#when you invest in a relationship with someone and then dropped like a bag of flour when they’re friends are move to the area

[rafes-juno]

My Brother's Best Friends; Slim Pickins

Pairing: Brother's Best Friend! Rafe x Brat! Female Oc

Summary: What happens when Rafe returns from college and turns Isla's life upside down? Will Isla be able to handle her brother's best friends? Are Rafe and Isla overcoming their rivalry this summer, or are their feelings brewing ready to explode? Secrets will come out testing Isla and her brother's relationship.

Contains: Enemies to Lovers, Brother's Best Friend, Harsh Language, Sexual Content, Drinking, Harassment, Mentions Of Blood. (18+ ,minors do not interact!)

WC: 3.905

Previous Chapter: 1

“So… you never kissed?” Rosie asks as she sips her drink, her eyes drifting between me and our best friend, Sunny.

I shake my head, just as disappointed as them. “No. Rafe came in and ruined it all, too. He talked about how I needed to stay away from Alex and said he was just looking out for me. " My eyes roll as I sip on my straw, watching the girls share a knowing glance.

Rosie and Sunny have been my best friends since elementary school. I don’t think there’s been a full day in my life where I haven’t seen at least one of them. We’re inseparable.

“Maybe we need to ask the cards?” Rosie suggests as Sunny digs through her bag to find her tarot deck.

When she drops the deck onto the table, I slump back. “Guys, I don’t want to do it if the cards are going to tell me something I don’t want to know.”

Truthfully, I think I’ve started to develop a crush on Alex. He’s been here a day, and I already can’t stop thinking about him like I’m a teenager again. Rafe’s words keep swirling around in my head, though. I don’t want to step on anybody’s toes and ruin any friendships– but at the same time, Theo and Alex don’t seem that close.

“Maybe they’ll confirm that he wants you–”

I laugh, reaching for my drink. “I don’t need the cards to confirm that.”

Sunny starts to shuffle the deck, and I sit up straight, watching how quickly her hands move. Cards fly out of the deck and land on the table; some even land on the ground, but Rosie quickly picks them up and hands them back to the witch. Sunny hums and turns over the cards, her eyes full of mischief.

I notice the time on my phone and sigh, “I only have five minutes before Rafe is coming to pick me up–”

“Oh, Rafe, again?” Rosie teases, her eyebrows raised.

“Yes, Rafe again,” I mumble. “We’re shopping to pick up some stuff for Theo’s birthday party tonight. Only me and him seem to give a shit. I don’t see you two offering–”

Sunny cuts me off, “Okay, so you have the fool card first. New beginnings– a new chapter in your life.”

I smirk, “Does the new chapter begin with an ‘A’ and end in ‘lex’?”

Sunny ignores my words and stares back down at the cards. “Death card. Is Alex a Scorpio?”

I shrug, “No. I don’t think so. I don’t know. I don’t think I know any Scorpio’s either.”

Sunny hums as she taps her long nails against the card. “Okay, so, a transformation of some kind. It could be during Scorpio season… or maybe he is a Scorpio.”

I open my mouth to reply, but she cuts me off and moves on to the next card. “The lovers. Self-explanatory.”

When we were fourteen, we entered a new store on the island. They sold all kinds of things, one of them being tarot cards. Sunny bought them and taught herself how to read them. Ever since we’ve relied on the cards for advice and guidance. Only recently has she started reading astrology, too. I rely on her to tell me when to invest in something new is a bad time. I swear, it feels like there's always something in retrograde or whatever.

“These are good cards,” Rosie comments. “Sounds like things could happen between you and Alex.”

Sunny pulls back her bottom lip, her head tilted. “Well– yeah. Maybe. I have a feeling it isn’t Alex, though.”

I laugh, lifting my drink to my mouth. “Well, who else could it be?”

Sunny shrugs. “I don’t know. We’ll see, I guess.”

She taps her finger against the next card. “Two of cups. Partnerships, relationships. Someone is coming in. I don’t know who, though. We need to find out Alex’s star sign.”

“I’ll ask at the party,” I say, sliding my chair out from the table and grabbing my phone. My screen lights up, and I see Rafe's missed texts telling me to hurry up and that I’m late. When I glance over my shoulder, I can see his car in the parking lot and his pissed-off face glaring through the open window.

We all watch as he opens his car door and climbs out. He rounds the car and crosses his arms, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Wow, has he been working out?” Rosie asks, her straw hanging loose in her mouth as she leans back in her seat.

I shrug, taking my time to grab all of my stuff as I keep my eyes on his. “I think so.”

It’s evident that he has been because of his black shirt. The material is clinging to his arms, chest, and toned stomach, and with the sweat dotted across his forehead, it looks as though he’s just got back from the gym.

“Hurry up, Isla! I don’t have all fucking day!” he yells over at me as I sling my bag over my shoulder.

“Calm down, Rafe. It’s not that serious.” I roll my eyes and turn to the girls, “I’ve never seen someone so eager to pick up a birthday cake.”

“I can hear you,” he says, opening the passenger side door as I wave goodbye to the girls and hop down the steps to the parking lot. I walk over to him with a cheesy grin.

I climb into his car, watching him slam my door shut with a low grunt. He walks around to the driver's side and clambers in, slamming his door as loud as he did mine. He merely glances in my direction as I pull the seatbelt over my body and click it into place.

He pulls out of the parking lot quickly, making me fall forward before falling back into my seat harshly. “Shit, Rafe. What’s the rush?”

“I have shit to do. Not that you’d give a fuck anyway, you don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

I scoff, my eyes widening as I stare over at him. “What’s your problem?”

“It’s too hot, and I don’t want to go to the store and–”

“Maybe you wouldn’t feel so hot if you weren’t wearing all black. It’s like a million degrees outside.”

“Don’t be a smartass, Isla.”

“Don’t be a dick, Rafe,” I bite back with a smile on my lips. “Let’s just go to the store, and then you can drop me off at home.”

“Home?” he asks. “I thought you were helping me put up all the party stuff on the druthers?”

I sigh, throwing my arms down to my sides in defeat. “Fine! If you want to hang out with me that bad, all you have to do is ask, Rafe.”

He doesn’t say a word; he keeps his eyes on the road, and his jaw clenches. I settle into my seat with a satisfied smile, knowing I won this time.

He never used to be so mean and hostile toward me. I’ll never understand what changed.

He used to be kind. He would talk to me with respect.

I don’t think he’ll ever tell me what changed. I don’t think I want to know, either. If he hates me, then so be it. I’m not here to have a friendship with him, and I certainly don’t want any validation from him.

If he’s happy for us to act like this, fine.

I couldn't care less.

“Oh my god, Rafe! Look!” I exclaimed, pulling a string of fairy lights with plastic strawberries from the self. “Strawberry lights!”

He snatches the box from me and stares at the picture on the front. “I don’t get it.”

I snatch them back and throw them into the shopping cart, “They’re just cute.”

“They’re a waste of money. That’s what they are.”

I grab another three and throw them into the cart with a thud. “Fine, I’ll buy them with my money.”

He pushes the cart slowly up the aisle with his veiny forearms resting on the handlebars. His shoulders are slumped, and I can tell he’s bored out of his mind, so I plan to spend as much time here as possible.

“Do you think we need party hats?” I ask, picking up a plastic box full of them. “I think we do.” he looks at me from the side, his eyes rolling.

“No, we don’t. There are just a couple of us on the boat. All we need is cake, balloons, and two banners,” he says, taking the box from my hands and throwing it back onto the shelf.

I cross my arms in defiance before reaching for the same box and throwing it into the cart. “You aren’t the only one using your daddy’s money today, Rafe. He paid me a hundred dollars just for tutoring your sister for an hour yesterday. We’re getting the hats.”

I spot a pack of party whistles and pick them up with a grin, “Oh, and these. We definitely need these.”

He sighs, standing up straight as he rolls his broad shoulders back. “Whatever. I don’t care anymore.”

I throw the whistles in and eye the fully stocked shelves for something that would really piss him off. I thought the whistles would send him over the edge, but apparently not. Although, I can’t imagine him using the whistle at the party.

His attitude is starting to piss me off. I understand he doesn’t want to be here; he only told me that four times on the way here. I knew I should’ve asked Alex to tag along. At least then, I’d have someone fun to talk to.

I watch him pull his phone out from his black shorts, and his fingers scroll on the screen for a few seconds before he clears his throat. “Okay, so we need–”

“Can we get these feather boas?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Rafe!” I sing, pulling the hot pink boa from the rack. “It’s fluffy.” I step toward him and drape it around his neck.

He tries to pull it off, but I hold my hand, keeping the material in place. “Wow, pink is your color. It brings out your eyes.”

“Oh, yeah?” he steps closer to me, pulling a yellow-colored boa from the rack. He drapes it around my neck and flicks up the side so it’s danging over my eyes, obscuring my vision. “This compliments your outfit.” For the first time today, there’s a hint of playfulness in his eyes as he reaches onto the shelf and hands me a pair of oversized sunflower glasses. “These will complete the ensemble.”

I hum, pushing the glasses onto my face. “Wow, is that a smile I can see, Rafe? Are you finally having fun?”

He scoffs, throwing his feather boa into the cart as his faint smile fades. “No.”

“Liar,” I sing, using the end of my feather boa to tickle his sun-kissed face. “You’re having so much fun with me.” He swats my hand and the feather away with a low growl.

I notice the pink pinata on the top shelf, shaped like a unicorn, and my eyes light up like a kid at a candy store. “Okay, we have to get that.” I tap Rafe’s shoulder and motion to the thing I need most. “Pick me up, I wanna grab it,”

“Pick you up?” his eyebrows are furrowed, and his forehead creased.

I nod, “You won’t be able to reach the one at the very back that’s probably in the best condition. Pick me up so I can grab it.”

He sighs, moving the cart out of the way as I stand before him. He hesitates briefly before grasping the curve of my waist with his big hands, causing my already-cropped t-shirt to rise. I feel the warmth of his touch bleed through my skin as he lifts me effortlessly.

He really has been working out.

“I can’t see,” I complain. “I need to get up higher!”

He groans in annoyance and hoists me onto his broad shoulder, holding me up there as I peer over the shelf to the pinata at the back, the most perfect unicorn calling my name. I feel one of his hands settle onto my thigh while the other grips my waist tighter, being sure I don’t fall as I reach across to grab my newest prized possession– which will be smashed to pieces by the end of the night.

“Got it,” I tell him as he pulls me back. I look at him with a smile as he carefully lowers me back to the ground, his hands still on my waist. “You're so helpful,” I coo, reaching up to place a kiss on his cheek.

Just as I pull my lips back with a smile plastered on my face, an elderly lady passes by us, her head tilted as she smiles at us. “Oh, aren’t you two just so sweet.”

The look on Rafe’s face says it all as he steps away from me, his head shaking. Before he can say anything, I slip my arm through his and smile at the lady. “Oh, thank you so much,” I look up at Rafe and drape the end of my feathered boa around his neck, pulling him closer to me.

“We’re just buying party supplies for our… son.”

The lady’s eyes widen, “Son? You two look awfully young–”

I grip my fingers around his upper arm, feeling his muscles tense under the fabric of his shirt as I rest my head on his chest. “I know, but age doesn’t matter when you’re in love. Isn’t that right, Rafey?” I look up at him, flashing a knowing look as he glimpses down at me.

He eventually lifts his gaze back to the lady and forces a smile. “That’s right.”

The lady presses her hand to her heart and pouts. “How sweet. You remind me of my husband and I when we were kids.” she takes a moment, releasing a deep sigh before facing us again, her smile gentle. “I hope your son–”

“Tiger,” I tell her the name of our imaginary son with a sheepish grin. “Well, his name is Prince Tiger, but we usually just call him Tiger.”

Rafe nods, pulling me closer to his side as he lifts his arm and wraps it around me, pulling me into him. I try to ignore the fact that I can feel his strong arms tightening around me and the fact that his cologne is intoxicating.

“Oh, that’s a… lovely name,” the lady says, clearly uncomfortable now.

Rafe’s lips curve into a half-smile. “Thanks. It’s just a shame that I recently found out I'm not his biological father,” he looks at me with a challenge in his eyes. “Turns out my girlfriend likes to fuck other guys behind my back.”

The lady is pale now, her eyebrows raised and her mouth open. I’m mirroring her expression as I turn to face her once more. I clear my throat as I rush to find something to say to make Rafe seem like the bad guy.

I know it's over when my mind goes blank, and the lady scurries off down the aisle with her cart full of supplies, her feet moving faster than the cart.

I untangle myself from Rafe’s arm and shake my head. “You’re evil! You scared that woman away!”

He shrugs, grabbing the cart again, “I think you scared her away when you told her our imaginary son was named Prince Tiger.”

“Would you have rathered him be named after his daddy?”

Rafe turns the corner and the wheels of the cart screech against the hard ground. “I’m not his Dad, remember.”

“I hope you’re happy with yourself, Rafe.”

He smiles at me, the first genuine smile I’ve seen in months. “I’m happy, thank you.”

I follow him around the store for the rest of the shopping trip before we go to the register to pay. Even when I try to pull out my phone to pay for the items, Rafe beats me to it and puts it all on his card. I scoff, “I thought all this was a waste of money.”

He ignores me and hands me the heaviest bag with a smile. “This is all the stuff you picked up. I hope it isn’t too heavy for you,” he flashes the cashier a smile before picking up the cake and a few lighter bags. “Come on, we gotta start decorating.”

I sigh, feeling the bag's weight pull me down as I follow behind him, my fingers aching and my arms falling weak. It’s too hot outside to be carrying a bag as heavy as this.

“It’s heavy,” I complain as we walk through the parking lot toward his car.

“Not my problem,” he replies, walking faster.

I groan, my head falling back as I pick up my pace to catch up with him. When I reach him and the car, my arms feel like jello. I drop the bag to the ground and let out a heavy sigh as I watch Rafe load the bags into the car.

I reach down, searching the top of the bag for the water bottle Rafe so generously bought me. As I bend over, I hear a car honk behind me, startling me to stand straight again. I turn around, watching a guy I don’t recognize wolf-whistle at me. There’s a cigarette hanging from his lips. He laughs, “Give me a twirl, sweetheart.” There’s a sleazy smile on his lips when he says, “Want me to give you a ride?”

I ignore him, turning my back to him and his truck as Rafe lifts his head from the trunk of the car, his eyes darting between me and the truck.

“Fucking bitch,” the guy calls from the truck, throwing the remainder of his cigarette in my direction.

I turn to face the truck again, ready to tell him what I think, but as I do, I see Rafe storming with his fists at his sides. I watch wide eyes as Rafe grabs the guy from inside the car by his collar, pulling him from his seat. “What did you call her?”

I release a breath, my stomach churning from anticipation. “Jesus, Rafe–”

“Say it to me. Say it to my fucking face,” Rafe urges the guy, who’s now a sickly pale color. His mouth moves, but no words come out when Rafe aggressively throws him back into his seat. “Call me a bitch, do it.”

“I didn’t realize she was your girl, man. I’m sorry–”

Rafe takes a step back from the guy's truck, and I think it’s all over when he walks back to me. “Rafe–” he cuts me off by reaching into his vehicle and grabbing one of his golf clubs. My eyes are bulging at this point, and there isn’t a thing I can do to stop him because before I can fathom what’s happening, he’s knocking the guy’s brake lights out with the club.

“What the fuck!” the guy yells as Rafe rounds the front of the car, knocking off the side mirrors. There’s glass everywhere, and I notice how shards hit Rafe’s bare legs, grazing his skin.

People are watching with wide eyes, and the elderly lady from early is on the verge of a heart attack as she watches Rafe wreck the guy’s car.

Rafe walks around to the guy’s open window and points the club at him with his head tilted. “If you fucking look at her again, I’ll do a lot worse, alright.”

The guy nods profusely as Rafe pulls the club out and gives the car door one harsh hit, denting the metal with the club. Rafe walks away, his hands white around the club as he approaches me. “Get in the car.”

I do as I’m told and climb into my seat, my hands shaking as he throws the club into the trunk and climbs in after me, barely giving me a chance to put my seatbelt on as he vaults out of the parking lot.

“Are you okay?” he asks me, his crazed eyes darting between me and the road ahead of us as he picks up the speed.

“I’m fine,” my voice is shaky as I buckle into my seat and lean back, resting my head on the headrest. “Are you okay?” I ask him, noticing the blood dripping from his knee. “You’re bleeding.”

He nods, but his fingers are pale white, and he grips the steering wheel. “I’m fine. We just need to get to the druthers and set up. That’s all. It’s fine. Everything is fine.”

“Are we going to get arrested?” I ask, gulping harshly. “My dad will kill me–”

Rafe faces me, his hands shaking as sweat builds on his forehead. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“But–”

“Nothing will happen. It’s fine. I’ll figure this out. That guy–” he points to the store that’s probably miles behind us now, “All of that was his fault. He shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

I exhale a shaky breath, nodding in agreement. “I agree, but that was extreme, Rafe.”

He laughs manically, his head falling back against his seat. “It could have been worse.”

“Could it?!” I exclaim. “You nearly blinded him with the glass shards!”

Rafe glances over to me, a smile on his face as he laughs harder. “Okay, well, at least our son– Tiger, wasn’t in the car. The therapy would be crazy expensive.”

“Are you serious right now?” I hide my laugh by facing the half-opened window, feeling the cool airflow through the car.

I feel the sudden warmth of his hand meet my exposed thigh, and it’s like a bolt of electricity runs through me. I turn to face him, and the feeling runs straight to my heart, suffocating me as it takes all the air from my lungs. His eyes are on mine when I feel his fingers tighten on my skin, “It’ll be okay.”

There’s a quiet moment between us where nothing needs to be said. His palm is still on my leg, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was warming up to me again. Of course, when I think about it, his phone rings, and Theo’s name pops up on the car screen. It’s a searing reminder of what we’re actually doing here and why we’re working together. We’re not here to be friends. We’re here to set up for my brother’s birthday. His best friend’s birthday.

Rafe pulls away from me quickly and hits the answer button as Theo’s booming voice sounds through the car’s speakers. “Hey, man. Where are you?”

“Uh, I’m just– out.”

“Out? Where? Are you with Sofia?”

Ah.

Rafe shakes his head as if Theo can see him before replying, “Uh, no,” he clears his throat and shifts in his seat as I sink into mine, wishing for this car journey to be over so I can go home and get ready for the night. To see Alex.

Rafe changes the subject, “Are you still coming tonight? On the boat?”

“Yeah. Can I invite some people?” I know my brother well enough to know ‘some people’ actually means a dozen.

Rafe nods, “Sure. Just not too many, alright?”

I can hear the smirk in Theo’s voice when he answers, “Alright.”

🪽 Chapter Two of Brother's Best Friends as promised! Like, Comment & Reblogs are highly appreciated !!

🪽 Author: Matilda , Theme: Evelyn

🪽 Credits for dividers ( here & here )

[after-the-end-times]

Stupid Sexy Tree Trimming

Prompt: Tree 🎄 Rating: T 🎄 Words: 999 Tags: Established Relationship, Suggestive Language, Pre-Thanksgiving Christmas Tree, The Party shenanigans, The Inherent Intimacy of Tree Trimming @steddieholidaydrabbles Ao3

“Ok, who’s gonna be my fluffer?”

Eddie pauses with the front door still open, dried leaves blowing in on the fall wind, and blinks at what he just heard his boyfriend say from the other room. He has to imagine it’s not what it sounded like, so he just shuts the door and drops his bag and jacket by the coat closet.

“I’ll get your balls!”

Now that brings him up short, because Jonathon has who’s what?! What’s he even doing here? Didn’t Steve say they were gonna have a nice, quiet evening in?

“Ugh no. You’re not fluffing right. Here watch this. You grab here and pull up, down, over. And then repeat that. Up, down, over. Up, down, over. See? Much better.”

Well, now this is getting ridiculous, because what is Jonathon and Nancy doing here? And doing something that involves fluffing, grabbing, pulling...and balls?

Eddie finally makes it down the hall and turns the corner to see...a mess. That’s what they’re all doing here: making a giant mess that’s taking up every surface of the room.

And at the heart of the mess is Steve.

Well, Steve and half a tree?

Eddie gives an impressed whistle at the display, startling several of the kids who are sitting on the floor with piles of old newspaper and ornaments around them,

Steve looks up at him and his face lights up.

Oh yeah, Eddie will never get tired of that. Definitely one of his Top 5 Favorite Steve Faces™

“Eddie! You’re back early!”

Not one of his top 5 favorite phrases though. That one always means someone’s up to something.

“Yeeeeah, sooo. What’s going on here? And why is that tree naked?” He says pointing at the limbless tree trunk Steve’s standing next to.

“Oh! Ha, yeah. It’s our Christmas tree!” he gestures toward the tree and then to the kids bickering on the floor, “The kids came over and then one thing led to another and I was dragging the box down from the attic and they were pulling down the boxes of ornaments and decorations and I know we were going to wait until December to decorate for Christmas but-”

“Hey hey,” Eddie gently steps through and around the kids and piles of stuff on the floor, pushing aside a huge cardboard box, “It’s fine! I was just surprised. And confused. When we talked about putting up a tree, I thought you’d want to go get a real tree. You know, chop it down and drag it home, all that.”

He made it through to the other side, Steve taking his hands so he could step over a pile of tree limbs without falling on his face.

“Nope, no real trees in this house.” He starts taking the limbs from the pile at their feet and matching the colors on the stems to the little holes on the trunk. Eddie grabs up a handful of branches to hand them one by one to Steve.

He continues, “My parents used to get a huge real tree before I was born and even when I was little, but after a few years they realized it was the tree giving me terrible sinus infections every winter. So they got this tree and I’ve had healthy Christmases ever since!” he huffs out a chuckle, “They also realized it was a lot cleaner without the pine needles falling everywhere and no one had to climb under the tree to water it. So a win win for everyone!”

“Huh, didn’t know you had tree allergies.” He says as Robin hands him a pile of fresh properly fluffed branches. He hands a few to Steve and starts adding his own to the little slots.

Humming to himself, he blithely continues, “We’ll have to invest in one of these for our place then. Only happy, breathable Christmases for us!”

Steve sucks in a breath, “Our place?”

Silence rings out from behind him. Eddie turns to see the older teens gathering up the kids, Robin trying to stay behind and getting bodily shoved out by Nancy and Jonathon.

“What?” Eddie turns back to see Steve gazing at him, eyes shining.

“You wanna move in together? Have Christmases together? Even though we’ve only been dating a month?”

“Well, yeah. Don’t you?”

And there it is again, quickly becoming his #1 Favorite Steve Face™, that light beaming from his wide smile and scrunched up eyes, all right before he picks Eddie up and spins him in a tight circle.

“Yesyesyes, of course!”

They come to a stop and Steve presses a hard kiss against his mouth, Eddie softens it holding his jaw gently. He slowly pulls away to rest his forehead against Steve’s. They can’t stop grinning and softly laughing.

“Can we come back now!”

“Are you getting engaged!”

“I still have your balls!”

“Ew! Stop saying that!”

Laughing, Steve pulls back to yell back, “Yes! Come back in! No! We’re not engaged!” he catches Eddie’s eyes and whispers, “Someday?”

Eddie presses his own hard kiss against Steve’s lips, backing up far enough to whisper, “Someday. Also. Why does Jonathon keep talking about your balls?”

Steve throws his head back, cackling.

“Christmas baubles,” He gets out through a laugh. “Mike hates it, so Jonathon thinks it’s hilarious.”

“Oh, I need to get in on that.” He pecks a kiss on Steve’s lips before turning around, throwing an arm out in proclamation. “I get to hold Steve’s balls next! Hand them over Jon, you’ve had them long enough. They’re officially mine now, almost engaged and everything!”

Mike glares from his spot on the floor. “Stop. You’re not funny.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Steve?”

“So funny, baby,” Steve wraps an arm around him, speaking low in his ear. “But, maybe we finish this tree now and then you can handle some other baubles later?”

Turning in his arms. he leers, “Oh Stevie, I can’t wait to trim your tree tonight. But this time? I get to be the fluffer.”

[minkieater]

one dream, one city, two boys, endless possibilities ✮

ONE ➺ the city masterlist | next as a junior at NYU, you just landed your dream internship. you didn't think a shot at your career would come with secrets, mistakes, and drama... at what age do you really start to grow up?

it's that time - my series is here!! my babies!! my friends!! hope everyone enjoys, all of our friends from luck, carousel, and three fates are here!

w. alcohol consumption, relationship issues, a bunch of fucked up college kids doing fucked up college kid shit MDNI 18+ wc. ~12k

♩— the city, the 1975  “yeah, you wanna find love then you know where the city is.”

after five long hours of drowning in some sort of painful claustrophobia you finally peeled your headphones off your ears, immediately taking a hand up to your ear to soothe your cartilage piercings that still haven’t healed after years of having them. 

past eleven, it was far later than when you should’ve left. you told yourself you’d only spend an hour in the studio tonight, but that thought was long gone after the first hour of being in the leather chair, especially after the first frustrating ten listens of your most recent project. with a tch you rip your hard drive out of the system and pack up, with all intentions of heading out to catch the train back to your apartment across manhattan.

11:21 pm wooyo: come out of your cave and come to prince wooyo: its friday

you yawn, rubbing your eyes vigorously — you need to invest in a pair of blue light glasses. pulling your bag over your shoulder, you respond with a quick ‘be there in 20’.

as you turn to pull the door open, someone else opens it from the other side, “oh shit, my bad.”

a small sound of shock left your lips, feet nearly leaving the ground in panic. your eyes cross the possible perpetrator, the man is massive and his voice is deep. you froze for a moment, arm still held out in front of you to open the door, stuck somewhere between fight or flight. you snap it back to join your other hand in holding the strap that hugged your shoulder. 

“i didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckles, ring-clad fingers jutting out in apology, “i didn’t think anyone else would be here this late.” you almost shudder at the deep rasp to his voice, eyes shifting to his oversized hoodie, baseball cap tucked under the hood, paired with baggy jeans that overflowed his seemingly new sneakers. 

“i was just leaving anyway,” you try to sound nonchalant but your voice gives you away, sounding quiet, small and embarrassed. your whole face feels hot as you maneuver around him and out the door, basically running down the dimly lit hallway. 

as you stepped out of the double doors of your school’s recording studios, you gave yourself a moment, head dropping backward. staring into the starless sky, you take a deep, controlled breath. you let the air fill your lungs, let it slow your heart rate, panic gradually leaving you with every exhale. when you needed an escape, a moment to yourself, something to ground you when your mind felt too much to handle, you could always count on staring up at new york city’s perpetually void sky. 

you shouldn’t find comfort in decades of pollution masking the stars, something you missed so much from home, maybe the thing you missed most. but that could be the comfort in it, something so different, still feeling so new after living in the city for two years. change is what you craved, what you needed, it’s why you chose to go to NYU in the first place. coming from a small town in the midwest, you knew early that your dream of being a music producer couldn’t happen there. you’ve known that since you were fifteen, when you made the plan to move to the city of dreams in the first place. 

but yet in times like these, when you need a moment of staring up at the sky, you miss the stars staring back down at you. 

you shake your head and get to walking — the walk would be more like 25 rather than 20, but knowing wooyoung, he wouldn’t see your text for another 15 anyhow. you pulled your bag a bit tighter on your shoulders and kept the headphones off for your walk, giving your ears a much needed break. 

“there she is!” wooyoung’s voice is booming, louder than the heavy music the bar is playing, and yunho waves over to you from beside him. he hands you a beer as you sit with the two, hoping to take the edge off the last five hours, but all you can think of is the project you left unfinished. 

“…you’re working on your senior thesis already?” wooyoung’s eyebrows are raised, gaping at yunho, “the semester’s barely started!” 

“do you know how long it’ll take me to research?” yunho responds, bringing his bottle up to his lips, “i’m studying how the internet has changed the music industry, i need to start now.”

“you both are so dedicated,” wooyoung’s words spill out in a whine as his hands cover his face, “i still don’t even know if i really want to major in film.” 

“you have plenty of time to figure your shit out, woo,” you smile, patting his shoulder. you swear wooyoung has been the same carefree, partying college boy since he walked into his dorm on the first day. like yunho, he’s been dragging you out of your books and your projects to live a little since you met freshman year.

“what had you trapped all night?” yunho turns his attention to you. the bar stool is uncomfortable under you, making you shift your legs up to the higher bar, “another project?” 

you huff out a sigh, “for my EMP class.” 

“ah, EMP,” yunho nods and flips his phone face up, checking his notifications, “oh shit, joong and mingi are stopping by.”

you raise an eyebrow and wooyoung smiles, “damn, i haven’t seen them since that one night at jeongin’s!” 

“who are these people again?” you question, fingers mindlessly peeling at the label on your beer bottle, watching the tattoos littering your fingers stretch under the movement. 

“they’ve only been on the roof a few times i think, they know chan,” wooyoung nods like you should know this already. you typically did know almost everyone who came to your boyfriend’s infamous rooftop parties, but it makes sense for one or two people to slip past you every now and then. they usually end up being friends of your boyfriend’s three roommates, chan, felix, and seungmin.

“they’re both in the same major as you. i would’ve thought that you’ve had classes together, but they’re older than you, i guess,” yunho shrugs.

“you’re older than me,” you counter with a look to prove it, bringing your beer to your lips.

the three of you met in your freshman year, taking the same film scoring sound design class, where somehow your degrees overlapped. where you went to study music technology, wooyoung, a junior like you, studied film production, and yunho, a senior, studied music history. 

minutes later wooyoung is waving over two guys you’ve never seen before, a tall one and another shorter one. your eyes squint in focus before they nearly burst out of your head in shock. realization hits you and your body burns in embarrassment, your heart becoming alarmingly loud in your chest. 

they stop at the bar and you quickly explain your situation with the tall one to your friends. wooyoung’s head leans back as a fit of laughter consumes him and yunho’s signature smile that only appears at someone else’s expense comes into view.

“that’s right,” yunho nods in remembrance, “you both are always cooped up in that damn studio, you sure you’ve never met him before?” 

you quickly shake your head as you notice them approaching, pushing your discomfort to the back of your head, trying to seem like you haven’t noticed their arrival.

“god, this place never changes,” the smaller one is shaking his head as the two of them stand around the table, setting his drink down on the stained wood.

“that’s it’s charm,” yunho responds as he raises his hand, “how you been joong?” 

they all take turns dapping each other up as you sit quietly, observing, until the two pairs of eyes turn to you. the taller one introduces himself as mingi, the smaller one hongjoong. 

“hey, didn’t i just see you?” mingi’s eyebrows furrow as if his eyes were tricking him, “you go to NYU right?” his finger points to you, one of his eyebrows lifting in question. wooyoung and yunho immediately turn to you, amusement written all over their faces.

you could feel the heat from the tips of your ears as you nod, “ki, i’m a junior, music tech major.” 

“no way! we’re tech majors too,” he smiles, pulling his beer to his lips and turning back to yunho, “yun, how’s the thesis been?” 

the rest of the night was spent with you mainly being quiet, observing and listening to them converse. you’d only asked a few questions, added input when you felt necessary, and laughed when the situation called for it. your discomfort from earlier eased to some degree by the end of the night, but you felt like the majority of your time at prince was spent on auto-pilot.

mingi and hongjoong shared little about themselves, but you picked up on a few things throughout the night. they’re both seniors at NYU, studying music technology like you. they’ve also been interning for the same record label since the end of their junior year, both hoping to land a permanent position at the label before the end of their senior year. 

yunho and mingi have been friends since they were young, both attending the same high school and moving to new york city just after they graduated. hongjoong is born and raised in new york, you could tell as much from his accent, but met mingi his freshman year in one of their classes and they’ve been close since. 

where mingi was more quiet and reserved, hongjoong was talkative, easily dominating the conversation. he was loud about it, too. with eyeliner, a shaggy mullet and multiple ear piercings, hongjoong seemed anything but sweet off first glance. but the second he smiled paired with the sweet, melodious laugh that left his lips, you knew his appearance had nothing to do with his personality. something you should know by now in the creative department of NYU.

by the end of the night your social battery was below zero. your goodbyes to your new and old friends were quick, exhausted from your hours spent in the studio and the beers did nothing but tire you more. by the time you were back in your apartment, another 20 minute walk from prince, you’d hoped and prayed your roommate was sound asleep. you couldn’t bear another word out of your mouth.

in the shower you were playing the night back in your head like a movie, and you swore the weight of uneasiness didn’t fully leave you until you were settled in bed. trying to distract yourself by turning on the tv, your mind drifts once more, but instead of your project it was your new acquaintances, your seniors, two people you could learn so much from… it didn’t take long for your brain to empty itself and sleep to consume you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“are you coming this friday?” your boyfriend asks, and you can hear the impatience in his voice, no doubt he’s feeling neglected after your busy week. 

“i don’t think so, i still have so much to do on this fucking song. it’s missing something still and i can’t figure it out,” you huff, running a hand through your hair. 

“that’s okay, i understand, what about tonight? you gonna be there late?” 

“i think so, i’m sorry, i’m so stressed i think i’m just gonna go home and crash.” 

“please, baby? every night this week you’ve been there and you’re always too tired to come over after,” he’s whining over the phone now, and your eye literally twitches as he speaks.

“jeongin, i need to get this done, i don’t know what else to tell you,” you snap as your fingers come up to the bridge of your nose, placing your elbow on the desk, “you have a key to my place, use it.” 

“is riley home? i don’t want to just show up unannounced, what if san’s there?”

you sigh, “we’ve been together for two years innie, and she’s known you longer than i have. i’m sure she’ll be happy to see you even if san is there. i’m almost done, i’ll be home soon, okay?” you lean back in the chair, eyes closing, bringing your free hand to rub at your mascara-less eyes. 

“okay! i’ll pick us up something to eat, what do you want?” your eyebrows furrow in frustration and you open your eyes to look down at the monitor again. all you can see is unfinished work, and your stress level goes through the roof. 

you take the phone off your ear and let a breath of frustration out before answering, “whatever you want. i’ll see you soon, love you,” you waited for him to say it back before you hung up the phone. you set it face down on the desk, bringing your headphones back over your ears, planning to finish up some last tweaks before you went back home for the night. 

the first day of your freshman year you walked into your cramped dorm room and were met with the human embodiment of new york. she was the perfect introduction to the city, the smallest yet loudest bundle of sunshine you’d ever encountered, a born and raised city girl. riley was a few inches over five feet, kind pale eyes and long dark waves framing her pretty face. lucky for you, she came with a built in friend group. 

jeongin, felix, chan, and seungmin, four guys who had moved to the city right after they graduated high school. the four of them had met riley randomly at a rock concert over the summer,  enamored by the fact that she’s a local and also majoring in theatre at NYU in the fall. they were quick to friendship, riley and the four boys, until you were introduced. 

from the first conversation you had with the four, your friendship fell right into place. it felt like you had known them your whole life. all four of them were funny, kind, accepting, and the best of all, gorgeous. the first time you saw jeongin you could attest that love at first sight is a real phenomenon. it didn’t take long after you guys had met for you to start dating, he was something out of your dreams. kind, respectful, funny, doting, he checked off every box on your 18 year old list. 

for being together nearly two years, at this point he is a true extension of you. you lived at his place half the time, you were always out in the city together, in the middle of washington square park on picnic dates, your relationship was movie-esque. everyone who knew you, knew jeongin, and vice versa. 

you didn’t hear anyone come in, and you sure as hell didn’t expect anyone to interrupt your focus as you felt a small tap on your shoulder. ripping your headphones off isn’t an understatement as you shriek, terror and surprise rushing through you like electricity. 

he can’t help but engulf himself in a fit of laughter while your eyebrows disappear into your hairline, your mouth agape as you clutch your thrashing heart over your hoodie. 

“mingi! jesus christ, are you gonna scare the shit out of me every time you’re here?” you bark out, breath heavy and unstable, irritation clear in your voice.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i knocked but you didn’t hear. didn’t know how else to interrupt,” he counters, still smiling, waving his hands in apology.

“did you not see the red light for in use outside the door?” you ignore the amused smile across his face, still clutching your heart as if it’d burst out of your chest if you didn’t. 

“i did, i took a peek to see if you’d be in here again,” he shrugs, “it’s late and you’re in the same room as the other day, i was curious.”

your expression softens, and you ignore the sweat that was quick to form in your palms. “oh,” you mutter, so quiet it was almost inaudible, “well here i am.” 

a small smile sits on his face as he moves closer, peering over your shoulder to look at the monitor, “what’s this?”

“a project for my EMP class, did you take it?” you shift your focus to your monitor again, joining him in overlooking your project.

he nods and turns to pull up another chair from beside the desk, “last year, what professor?” 

you curse your cheeks as they heat up on their own, “lee.” 

he makes a disappointed face, his lips thinning into a line, “that’s unfortunate.” he nods his chin to the monitor, “let me hear what you’ve got.” 

“it’s not even close to being finished,” you argue, the familiar heat at the tips of your ears joining your cheeks in competition of which can expose your embarrassment first. 

he shakes his head, “don’t care.” not even entertaining your argument, he reaches for the headphones that are placed around your neck. 

you clutch onto them quickly and he halts his movement, looking up at you, startled at your reflex. “damn, give me a second,” you say with a quick laugh, pulling the headphones from around your neck and handing them to him.

you press play and his head nods to the beat as he listens, his eyebrows furrowed again, this time in focus. you take a moment to really take in his appearance — full lips, short, black and blonde ruffled up hair, a perfectly straight nose… you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. 

he takes the headphones off as the song finishes, snapping you back to reality. “it still needs some tweaks but it’s good, you’re probably at a B minus right now.”

your jaw drops, “tweaks? a B minus?”

he laughs, “i thought you said it wasn’t even close to being done yet? here, let me help,” he places a headphone up to his ear opposite of the side you’re sitting on, pressing buttons on the keyboard. “i like the synths, very atmospheric, but you’re missing depth,” he sucks a breath in through his teeth, “a deeper bass line, it needs to be more intense.” 

he plays with your song for some time, listening and nodding his head to the beat. you stare at him in his element with damn near stars in your eyes— your eyebrows are raised, mouth hung slightly open, you’re nothing short of in awe at this essentially random man, your senior who interns at a record label, helping you with your project. 

he makes a finishing nod as he hands your headphones back to you, ushering you to listen. his small tweaks changed your song entirely, no shot you weren’t getting an A now.

“lee is big on emotion, layering and harmonies and all that,” he says as you pull the headphone off your ear. 

you start, “mingi, i-“

he leans back, arms folded behind his head with a cocky smile, “i know, i know, you can’t thank me enough, i’m really good at what i do, thank you very much,” he’s joking when he cuts you off, but it’s so true it’s nauseating. he did in 20 minutes what would’ve taken you 2 days, the raw talent exuding off of him only makes you more curious.

you can appreciate the love he has for his craft, the craft you share. he seems to love it enough that he can pick apart your creation and put it back together better than you did in the first place. it makes you want to pick his brain, find out why he’s here, why he loves music, what he grew up listening to. 

“i was actually going to say undo everything you just did because it sounds like dog shit,” you deadpan, wiping the cocky smile right off his face, making the corners of your mouth lift up in amusement.

“that hurt my feelings,” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest instead.

you giggle, “can’t let you get too cocky.”

he chuckles, patting his thighs before he stands, “you still have to work on your use of effects, create more of a sense of urgency in the bridge. i’d say now you’re at an A minus though, couple more tweaks and you’re golden.” 

you nod, sitting up a bit straighter, “thank you, that was actually a huge help. i’ve been at this for almost a week now.” 

he heads toward the door and your brain is scrambling trying to figure out a way to get him to stay, or at least come back again soon. 

“you coming to chan’s this friday?” he beats you to it as he opens the door, peeking at you over his shoulder. 

you snap your head up at that, “uh, yeah, i’ll be there.”

the corners of his mouth turn up in a wide smile, “sweet, ill see you there then.” 

“thanks again!” heat rises to your cheeks as soon as the door shuts —  your palm slaps your forehead. at least jeongin will be happy that you’re coming friday. 

shit, jeongin! you already forgot about dinner. you quickly stood and yanked your hard drive out, quickly packing up your backpack to run to the subway station. you felt lighter right now than you had in a week, a newfound optimism taking over. 

you felt closer to finishing your project instead of being in the middle of it, you’re on more of a friendly basis with someone whom you share your craft, plus he’s more talented and experienced than you in it … it’s unknown territory for you since you didn’t have many friends in your major. 

your leg bounced the entire train ride home with a silly smile on your face, high off the adrenaline rush from the breakthrough. the train was surprisingly not packed, only a couple of people sharing the same car as you. it’s not usual for any subway car to be somewhat unoccupied, let alone peaceful in new york city. 

the adrenaline died down a fair amount in your walk from the station to your apartment, replaced with the comfort of your boyfriend and best friend waiting for you upstairs. 

the scent of oregano and fresh bread met you in the staircase, meaning pizza was waiting for you in the kitchen. as you made your way inside your apartment you found riley, san and jeongin standing around the counter in the midst of conversation. you set your backpack down on the table to signal your arrival and the three turn their attention to you. 

“you’re finally home! what’s got you cheesing so hard?” riley asks, handing you a plate as you turn the corner to grab a piece of pizza. 

jeongin kisses your cheek twice as you open the box, “feeling better about the song?” 

“yeah, i had a major breakthrough, actually,” that same silly smile is still plastered across your face as you pull a piece out onto your plate. 

riley’s eyes thin, shooting you a questioning look as she takes a bite of her slice. she’s always been able to see through you, read between the lines, hear what you weren’t saying, see the mask you wore when you were hiding your feelings like it was physically there.

“then the pizza is celebratory, i just so happened to get your favorite kind from your favorite place,” jeongin smiles, bumping his hip with yours as you take a huge bite of the thankfully still hot pizza. pepperoni has always been your favorite, but the first time you had any pizza in new york your life changed for the better. everything in new york is better than it is at home.

you thank him the best you can with your mouth full, then give him a close lipped smile, hiding the food in your mouth. 

“we were just talking about the roof on friday,” riley starts, leaning against san’s sturdy build that impressed you every time you saw it, “you feel like going?” 

you pause for a moment remembering your promise to mingi, “i actually can now that i’m pretty much done with the song.”

“yes!” jeongin’s fists shoot for the sky, wide smile on his face, “it’s supposed to be a big one, chan got the whole soccer club to come.”

“just the club? not the violets?” san perked up, eyebrows raised in question.

“the violets are probably all busy, soccer season and football season already started,” riley waves her hand, “the clubs aren’t that serious.” 

“i think they’d be offended if they heard you say their season isn’t serious, baby,” san’s gaze turned downward to riley, a sparkle in his eyes that was too bright for two people just sleeping with each other. you made a mental note to unpack that, just as you had to discuss the night you had. 

“maybe if they didn’t get hammered on a random rooftop mid-season i'd be more likely to consider them serious,” riley’s hands lifted to her shoulders, eyebrows lifted in an oh well expression. 

“touché,” san responded through a yawn, voice sounding breathy and relaxed. riley immediately yawned after him, a somnolent sound paired with stretching her arms. 

riley and san shared a mirrored look, seeming to read each other’s minds without verbally saying a thing. 

“we’re gonna head to bed, goodnight,” riley announces and turns for the hallway without a second glance, san bids you a small wave goodnight behind her. 

you and jeongin both call goodnight after them and he turns to you, moving a stray hair off of your face, “i’ve missed you.” 

“missed you too,” you sigh, “‘m sorry i snapped at you earlier,” you set your plate down and lean into his front, laying your head on his shoulder with your eyes closed. exhaustion hits you as soon as your eyelids shut, you could fall asleep on his shoulder if you needed to. his hands immediately find purchase on your hips, giving them a squeeze.

“don’t apologize baby, you’ve been so stressed and working so hard,” he kissed the side of your head, pulling up a hand to scratch at your scalp, “gonna be the best producer in all of new york.” you groan in appreciation. you should’ve had him here days ago. that’s always been his thing — the magic touch. 

where riley could see through you, practically hear your thoughts and feelings exactly for what they were, jeongin could feel them. with a hand in your hair or kiss to the cheek, he could feel what you were feeling. it was your favorite thing about him, his ability to know what you needed and help you through it without you having to ask. 

“you tired?” he asks, and you lift your head to look at him, then shook your head quickly. he smiles at your sleepy eyes, and like always, he knew what you wanted. he brought his hands to your hips again to twist your back against the counter, kissing you softly at first. he slipped his tongue into your mouth, exploring until you brought your hands to his hair and tugged, silently begging for more. he swiftly slid the pizza box across the counter and picked you up by the backs of your thighs, placing you on the countertop without breaking the kiss. 

“mm, maybe i am tired, we should head to bed,” you say between kisses, arms placed around his neck. 

he groans into his words, “yeah, lots of sleeping, we should do that,” you’re both smiling into the kiss, and you squeal as his hands scoop under your ass, picking you up to bring you to your room. sleep could come later, right now you just wanted him.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

friday comes faster than you thought it would. your classes breezed by, your song finally finished and turned in, and you were impatiently waiting for tonight. normally you aren’t as excited for the rooftop parties your boyfriend and his roommates threw, they were a dime a dozen, but the anticipation for tonight has been at the front of your mind all week. 

“you dressed up? i thought we were dressing cozy like we always do!” riley stands at your doorway, hands at her sides with her eyebrows furrowed. she had on ripped jeans, an oversized hoodie, and a pair of white sneakers. her hair was tied up in a bun, glasses sitting on her nose. 

you looked down at your bodysuit, jeans and sandals, and then looked back up to her, “this is somewhat cozy!”

“i’m putting on a different shirt and doing my hair,” she states and leaves your room in a hurry, and you look in the mirror at your side. you did your hair and makeup, something you only do once in a while for jeongin’s parties. you’d usually be in a different version of riley’s exact outfit. 

“i guess i did dress up,” you mumble to yourself and shrug, your small smile returning on your lips. you were in a good mood, actually having enough energy to put effort into getting ready, so your appearance reflected that. 

you made your way to the kitchen to pour a couple shots for you and your roommate, getting the pregame started. music blasted throughout your apartment, thanks to the surround sound stereo system you installed with the help of riley and jeongin. 

more so you got frustrated trying to install them yourself and made jeongin do most of it while riley watched anxiously.

you took the first shot back quick, needing to start easing your nerves before heading out for the night. jeongin’s parties were famously never small, with the help of his three roommates they were friends with half of NYU’s campus. from the arts department to the finance bros, they knew everyone, and everyone knew them. even the wealthiest students that attended NYU knew at least one out of the four. living in a huge apartment in soho, thanks to seungmin’s father paying half their rent each month, they had the luxury of their own private rooftop.

some of your best memories of the past two years have been on that rooftop… huge parties, small get-togethers, nights between you and jeongin only. you would prefer that to a random frat party any day. even in the winter time, with tents and heaters, you’d still be on that rooftop until all hours of the night. but as you’ve grown older, classes have become harder, your workload more intense, nights on that rooftop have become less of a common occurrence. you think that’s why your stomach is bubbling up with tension, you don’t have the comfort of knowing you were there just the other day. it’s been long enough to where you feel like just someone showing up rather than the host’s girlfriend of two years walking around the rooftop like she owns it.

“okay, i’m ready now — oh no, you poured shots?” riley pouts, setting her hands down on the counter.  now she wore a black bodysuit, her dark hair in soft curls around her face. you know by now that her resolve is weak despite her complaints, so you slide the two shot glasses toward her. 

“to riley getting laid tonight!” you yell as you lift up your shot glass, and she lets out a quick laugh before clicking her glass with yours and shooting it back. 

“why tonight? i’ve been fucking san for months,” she says, her face scrunching up in disgust from the taste of the vodka. 

“by chan, ri,” you announce in a tone that this information was obvious, smiling like a maniac at your roommate. this makes her eyes roll, heat rising to her cheeks. “come on, it’s been years of mutual pining between the two of you, i don’t understand why it’s not happening when it’s clearly meant to!” 

“please,” she waves a hand and picks up her phone, “he literally has a girlfriend, ki. we keep having the same conversation, it’ll happen when it’s meant to.” 

you tap your second shot glass on the table to alert her to take her second shot as well. she grabs onto the top of the glass and pauses for a second, “maybe i really should stop sleeping with san.” 

“to riley discontinuing her meaningless sex relationship and pursuing true love!” you raise your shot glass again and she clinks hers with yours, an emotion you can’t read in her eyes before she takes it back. 

“meaningless sex is crazy,” she lets out a breath of air after the shot, “you know it’s more than that, we just talked about this.” 

you grab your phone off the charger and slip it into your purse, “i also know you’re in love with chan, we just talked about that, too. no more meaningless sex, but instead sex with love behind it.”

she’s smiling as she lifts up her phone again, “and what about you, huh? you’re about to see your new boyfriend at your actual boyfriend’s party.” 

your eyes snap up, jaw immediately dropping with a gasp. you filled her in on what happened in the studio the other night, she hasn't let you rest for a minute because of it. “don’t even joke like that, it’s not like that and you know it.” 

“just like it’s not just meaningless sex with san and i,” she sings, “i’m kidding, but i can’t help but connect the dots and i do feel like maybe you’re a little excited to see him again,” she puts her fingers up in a pinch, squinting an eye. 

you respond with your lips pursed, your eyes lowered to slits. 

“in a completely platonic and innocent way!” her hands go up in defense instead. 

“am i excited for the chance to talk to someone older than me with more experience in my major, who’s really talented and can hopefully give me tips to get me further in my career? yes, of course i am,” you run a hand through your hair with a huff of air, “it just so happens that he’s a man.” 

“who’s six feet tall and probably sexy.”

“riley!”

“i’m sorry! let’s go, uber’s here.”

the rooftop is just how you left it. a mass of bodies standing, talking, drinking, maybe even dancing to the song playing through the speakers. fairy lights still hang over the roof, intertwined in a way that looks intentional, but you still aren’t sure if it is. the bar is in the same place, they got a dj, nothing has changed at all and it helps to put you at ease. along with the vodka you drank before you left. 

“no way! riley and kiki!?” you hear him before you see him, a slightly taller sunshine maneuvering his way towards you and your smaller sunshine. 

“lixie!” riley exclaims, throwing her arms around his neck in a hug as he approaches you, “i’ve missed you! how’s the foot?”

“honestly better now, just waiting on clearance from the doctor before i can start performing again,” he smiles as he sticks his leg out, lifting his pant leg and twisting his ankle around to show you it’s mobility. the smile on his face is infectious, it immediately makes you smile, too. 

“there she is,” you feel hands around your waist and a pair of plump lips pressed to your cheek, “you look so fucking beautiful and i haven’t even seen your face yet.” 

you turn around and press your lips to jeongin’s, smiling into it, “i felt like dressing up.” 

“and i feel like taking it off of you,” he whispers into your ear, making a hand go over your mouth as you choke out a giggle. his messy curls lay wispy across his forehead, the familiar copper flips peeking out from the nape of his neck. he was in a big t-shirt, baggy jeans and sneakers, your favorite look on him after just plain sweats. 

“at least get me a drink first,” you licked your lips, tasting the cheap beer from when you kissed him. it was usually like this between you two, flirting like you had just started dating yesterday, the off days where you were stressed and short tempered were few and far between. 

“you’re coming with me, i want you to meet some people,” he grabs your hand and starts for the crowd of people. you give riley and felix a wave behind you, jeongin not giving you any time for small talk as he starts pulling you towards the bar.

you passed faces you recognized, giving small waves and ‘hey!’s as you followed behind him. you’ll get to socializing with everyone you know later. 

at the back end of the rooftop was a stand up bar, one seungmin’s dad gifted to them without a doubt. everyone had the option to bring their own alcohol, which a lot of people did, but seungmin loved the classy feeling of having an almost full bar at his parties. it was mainly his name that was passed around for the legendary parties, so he had to live up to expectations. 

“hey jinnie,” you smile as you approach the bar, completely ignoring the line that was formed in front of it. still hand in hand with jeongin, no one batted an eye. it’s one thing to have a bar at a college party, but to have a bartender comfortable serving alcohol without showing ID? impossible to find. hyunjin, on the other hand, has never minded for a moment — he actually offered. with compensation, of course. 

“hey keeks! haven’t seen you in a hot minute, how’ve you been?” his smile is wide when he notices you, still shaking the drink he was currently making. 

“busy as hell, what about you? how’s the portfolio?” you unlace your hand with jeongin’s and lean on the side of the bar, trying not to let his actions sway your easily distracted mind. 

“i’ve been really good! super busy too, still working on it,” he hands the finished drink to the girl standing at the bar, and she hands him a 20 while batting her eyelashes. he winks back and then turns to you, “you want a beer or a cocktail?” 

“cocktail please, something tequila. i’m in the mood to chat,” you smile and it makes him laugh, already pulling the casamigos from the rack. 

“whatever you say, princess,” this has always been the relationship between you and hyunjin since before you and jeongin had started dating. the shameless flirting, the easy conversation, the nicknames, you’ve thanked god jeongin isn’t the jealous type plenty of times. your drink is handed to you in moments, jeongin passing his friend a bill you couldn’t see. you thanked hyunjin for the drink and jeongin for tipping him, and your boyfriend pulled you by the wrist once more.

“where are we going?” you ask, keeping your drink level as you make your way through the crowd. you try to manage a sip, your face scrunching up from the sour taste. tequila and sour mix was an odd one of your favorites, but the first sip is always the worst before it gets better. 

“i just met a couple of chan’s friends, i was talking with them right before you got here, they’re cool. they’re in the same major as you,” he yells over the loud music now that you’re back in the crowd, and you nod despite him not being able to see you.

you make your way over to the smoking corner, one of the cozier areas that you friend group seemed to naturally go towards every time you were here. the music was still loud but it seemed somewhat quieter in the corner, maybe because it was next to the edge of the rooftop and there was nothing but the city around and beneath, you could hear traffic and the business of new york, making it seem less deafening. there were couches, cushioned chairs, tiki torches, it made the space the most inviting spot on the rooftop.

“hey keeks!” chan stood up to hug you, wrapping his huge arms around your back, “feels like i haven’t seen you in ages, you haven’t been by the loft. what’s up?” 

“i know, i’ve been busy as shit,” you chuckle as he lets go, sitting back down, “how about you?”

“the same, really. but hey, nothing new is nothing bad, right?” his hands go up, his eyebrows raised in amusement. you glance down to the couch, han was sitting with one leg over minho’s, fully relaxed into the cushions. you gave them a smile in greeting, they were close friends of the four roommates, close friends of yours. you give chan a nod and the rest a wave before jeongin grabs your hand again. 

“ki, this is who i wanted you to meet!” you turned away from chan, and before your boyfriend were two people you had definitely met before, “mingi and hongjoong.”

“oh shit, hey guys,” your cheeks immediately heat up as you give them a small wave, mouth twisting to a tight lipped smile. 

“i thought your name sounded familiar!” hongjoong’s finger points, his eyebrows perked up in surprise. his mullet was messy, his piercings shining under the moonlight. he had on an oversized distressed sweater, a long pair of denim shorts, paired with some old boots. does he just permanently look like a rockstar?

“sick, you know each other already?” jeongin asks, a bright smile on his face. 

“yeah, we met last week at prince when i was out with wooyo and yunho,” you nod, playing with the straw in your drink. 

“how’d the song come out, ki? you add in what i told you to?” mingi asks, and you gave him a one over. he wore a tight black tee paired with white and black jeans, a black baseball cap and plenty of jewelry. 

you nod, “got an A plus, thank you very much!” you sip your drink, pretending you didn’t feel the sweat forming in your palms, telling yourself it’s just the condensation from your glass. 

jeongin looks at you with an eyebrow raised, clearly missing a key point from the conversation, “the night i had the breakthrough, mingi listened to my song and told me what i needed to fix. he’s why i finished it so quickly.” 

“ah,” is all he said with a slow nod, and you couldn’t fight the uncomfortable feeling creeping up your spine. 

“even if i didn’t, you still would’ve gotten a good grade, you didn’t need my help,” he shakes his hand at you, “i’ve actually been talking to joong about it, next time you’re in the studio you have to let us come by and listen to it.” 

“seriously? i mean- yeah, but why?” your eyebrows furrow and you shift your weight to one leg. 

“it’s been stuck in my head, i was thinking it’d be even better with vocals over it,” he shrugs, taking a swig of his beer. 

“i catch him humming to it all the time. during class, at work, at the bar,” hongjoong laughs before he sniffs, running the back of his hand over his nostrils, “i feel like i need to hear it so i can get it out of my head.” 

you laugh along with him, “you can definitely come by, i’ll probably be in there tomorrow working on my own stuff. same studio,” you tip your chin up at mingi and he nods back in understanding. 

jeongin’s hand makes its way to your waist, “i’m gonna go find felix and ri, i’ll be back.” you nod and give him a quick kiss, and he goes right back into the crowd. 

“i didn’t know you and jeongin were together,” mingi starts, his eyes that were following jeongin disappear into the crowd come back to meet yours.

“almost two years now,” you say with a smile, then take another sip of your drink. the words feel sour coming out of your mouth, like you didn’t want to tell him that. 

“two yea- aren’t you a junior?” hongjoong interrupted, pointing your way again, looking nothing short of flabbergasted.

“we met our freshman year, been together since,” you confirmed with an uncomfortable chuckle, taking another sip of your drink. you hated that you selfishly wanted to change the subject. 

“cute,” mingi mutters before his beer touches his lips again, eyes boring holes into yours. 

“ki!” you hear over your shoulder, making you whip around to yunho approaching you from behind, his girlfriend close behind him. you’d never been more grateful for anything in your life. 

“hey guys,” you smile and hug them both quickly, giving yunho a moment to greet everyone in the corner before he takes the spot next to you. 

“what’d i miss? i just saw felix and riley back there,” his hands are in his pockets, a soft close-mouthed smile sitting on his face.

“nothing at all, we were waiting for you to get the party started,” you scrunch your nose at your own joke and yunho replies with a belly laugh, shaking his head.

“yun, can we get drinks?” ivy asked, tugging on yunho’s sleeve. blonde and blue eyed, small girl, she was always dressed so pretty. always in a dress or a skirt, you don’t know if you’ve ever seen her in a pair of pants, not even when you all went out for a night of bowling in brooklyn.

they’d been together for longer than yourself and jeongin, the four of you often went out on double dates when you first became friends with yunho. their relationships mirrored your own, a match made in heaven, two people born to be with each other.

“you guys are empty too?,” mingi asks, asking the three of you but keeping his gaze focused on your empty glass, gaining your attention. “let’s go get another.” 

he starts for the crowd with you following close behind until it starts to get dense, people naturally clinging closer to one another the closer they got to the dj. changbin always insists he runs the music at these parties, there’s nothing he loves more than riling up a crowd with the remixes he and han make. he also couldn’t complain about the girls that hang around the booth. mingi turns his head around and notices you lagging behind, offering a hand so you don't get lost in the crowd. 

you took it, and the first thing you noticed was how small your hand is in comparison to his. it fit so nicely in his palm, fingers wrapped around the top of his hand. you blame the tequila for the heat that spread into your chest. 

as you neared the line for the bar you chose to not use your friendship with hyunjin to get you up to the front, opting to take your time at the back of the line instead. you noticed yunho and ivy didn’t make it to the line behind you and you couldn’t help but be happy about it.

“so,” he starts and a pause follows, making you both giggle, “i assume you’re at all of these parties, right?” 

his question makes you tilt your head, “i’m 95% sure that question was a slightly different version of ‘you come here often?’”

he turns around in embarrassment, a hand covering his mouth, pretending he didn’t know who you were. he turns back around, a silly smile sitting on those pretty lips of his and you swear there’s a pink hue to his cheeks, “it might’ve been.” 

“then to that, i’ll say i used to come a lot more, but with school getting so crazy i haven’t been as much,” you shrug and he nods, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. 

you make small talk as the line moves closer and you swear there’s tension between the two of you. it could be the buzz you’re nursing because the small talk flows, but it feels like there’s something that both of you want to say and neither of you are saying it. 

“you’re cheating on me with someone else now too?” hyunjin pouts as you finally approach the bar.

“i’m sorry baby, i didn’t mean to break it to you like this,” you reach for his hand over the bar and he pulls it away, looking at you with disappointment. 

“is it because he’s taller than me? i swear 2 or 3 inches isn’t that much,” he says with a fake sadness, already pulling the casamigos from the rack. 

“jinnie baby, 2 or 3 inches is a lot where it counts,” you put your hand over your heart, “i hope you can forgive me.” 

“i’ll think about it, princess,” he puts your drink on the bar, looking up to mingi who is confused yet amused, “miller right?” 

mingi nods and hyunjin cracks a can, mingi slipping him a bill during the transaction. they both do that guy nod at each other in thanks and hyunjin looks at you with fake sadness again, making you giggle. 

“what the hell?” is all mingi says as you walk back towards the crowd, both walking a lot slower. 

“that’s hyunjin, one of my friends. we always play like that,” you shrug, “what, you thought he was serious?” 

“at first, well for a second there yeah,” he admits, making you laugh, “i don’t know what to expect with you. here i thought i met a really pretty girl who shares the same interests as me, has the same humor as me, then i find out she’s been in a two year long relationship. i guess i don’t really know that much about you.” 

you stop in your tracks and look up to him in surprise, eyes wide and lips parted. you blink a couple times, scrambling to find something to say.

“you think i’m pretty?” you ask, a serious look on your face before your lips twitch upward. he nudges your shoulder with a shut up making you giggle. 

“what do you want to know?” you ask, and you’re both standing still, nursing your drinks. 

“i want to know a lot of things, but unfortunately i think our time is up,” his eyes look past you and you turn around, jeongin approaching.

“hey guys,” he kisses your cheek and tilts his head up to nod at mingi, “i caught riley and chan flirting!” 

you gasp, “no shot, san is here.” 

he nods again, success written all over his face, “i think san was in our corner while they were talking.” 

you dapped up your boyfriend, “i consider that a step forward, i’ll stay here if she takes him home tonight.” 

“you’re staying here anyway,” he looks at you like you should know that already then leans closer to your ear, “i didn’t forget about what i said earlier.” 

you shush him, your cheeks burning, from what he said or the fact that he said it with the other man standing behind you, you weren’t sure.  

“i’m gonna head back over to where we were,” mingi says from behind you, and you turn around to give him a smile and a nod. jeongin gives him a cheesy thumbs up and you can’t help but want to pull his hand back down to his side, second-hand embarrassment forcing heat to rise to your cheeks again. you’d usually find that funny, maybe even a bit endearing.

“we should go too,” you murmur, this time you grabbed his wrist to follow mingi through the crowd. 

when you get back, all the seats are taken except for the spots san and minho left open, they had gone to get more drinks just as you got there. mingi and hongjoong still choose to stand, deep in conversation with yunho. you and jeongin sit apart, opposite sides of the area, and you try your hardest to listen to the conversation everyone was already in the midst of. you kept replaying the past half hour in your head while everyone around you was engulfed in discussion, burning the conversation with mingi into your memory so your buzzed brain didn’t forget it. as curious as you were about him he seemed to be the same towards you, which only made you more restless about getting to know him better. you caught yourself staring at him a few times throughout the night until he inevitably caught you, shooting a sly smirk your way. 

your eyes shoot to jeongin who was already looking at you, he’d noticed you’ve been lost in your thoughts for awhile now. he stood abruptly, straightening out his shirt.

“i’m tired,” he says nonchalantly, still looking to you. you couldn’t read him, did he catch that? the looks? is he actually tired? everyone looks up at him, surprised at his sudden revelation, “i’m gonna head to bed.”

“it’s only midnight, innie,” chan looks up from his lock screen, no doubt checking the time, “why so early?”

he shrugs, “i’m tired.” 

he waves goodnight to everyone and you sit stuck in your chair, unsure of where his head is at. do you follow him? do you stay here with everyone and enjoy the rest of the party? you hadn’t even said hi to the soccer club yet. 

as he starts to walk away, he doesn’t look back at you nor does he kiss you goodnight, and you have your answer. you stood up, swinging your purse over your shoulder and chug the rest of your drink. you needed the rest of the watered down tequila to ease your nerves, especially with not knowing where his head is. he may not be the jealous type, but he’s not stupid, either. 

“you’re going in, too?” riley asks, eyebrows furrowed with a pout on her lips.

“following my boyfriend into an empty house? absolutely,” you say jokingly, trying to play it off as something you two had planned. 

but as she always does, she lifts a brow, sensing your uneasiness despite your words. her eyes quickly darted to mingi and back to you so fast it was almost unnoticeable, and your lips tightened. she nods. 

“we on for wednesday?” yunho asks as you turn away, giving you a quick hug goodbye. 

“depends on my assignments for the week,” you say, scratching the back of your neck. 

“wooyoung will be pissed if you don’t,” he sings teasingly and you roll your eyes, turning your attention to mingi and hongjoong.

“good to see you guys again,” you smile, waving to them both. 

“we’ll see you tomorrow?” hongjoong asks, eyebrows raised. 

“i think so,” you nod, purposefully not confirming, then turn on your heel to walk through the crowd once more. 

you greet about twenty more people along the way, getting stuck in a few conversations before you finally stand before the door to the staircase. you take in a deep breath, not knowing what’s waiting for you on the other side. 

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

you nodded your head along to the beat, fingers tapping against the desk, mimicking every sound in the current project you had displayed across the monitor. you paused it, tweaking a harmony’s pitch, then pressed play again. 

you sighed as you sat back, taking off your headphones in the middle of the song, and stared up at the ceiling of the studio. you hadn’t seen him since friday, and he’s been occupying half of your mind since. it’s so wrong, you shouldn’t wish he’d walk through the door behind you, but you do. 

you couldn’t stop thinking about his necklaces, his rings, the hat he wore and the short waves peeking out of it, his nose, his lips… the list can go on and on. it’s so fucking wrong. your boyfriend was at his apartment, waiting for you to be done so you could join him. you spent the remainder of the weekend with him, half because you wanted to and half because you needed to. you needed mingi out of your head, and the only way to do that was to fill it with jeongin. 

you stare back at the screen, and your eyes squint. you can’t help but wonder what he’d think of the song, what input he’d have to improve it. you rubbed your eyes and groaned.

a knock at the door has your eyes wide and a gasp leaving your throat, your neck snapping behind you to catch who’s entering your studio space. the man of the hour waltzes inside so casually, as if he didn’t owe you rent for living in your mind the past 96 hours. 

“look who it is,” your smile is wide, bright eyes looking up at him as he makes his way in. 

“at least i didn’t scare you this time,” he’s already smiling too, excitement leaking out of both of you, “i finally caught you, you didn’t show on saturday.”

you take your headphones off, placing them on the desk, “my bad, i didn’t feel good all weekend. this is the first time i’ve been here in a few days,” a lie.

“all better now i hope?” he stands with the back of his legs against the desk, staring down at you, so aloof you can't read him. 

“for the most part,” you lean back in your chair, playing with your own rings, “i was hoping i’d see you, actually. i’m working on something else that i want your opinion on.” 

“hoping you’d see me? that doesn’t sound good,” that smirk you couldn’t stop thinking about finds its way to his face again, “don’t get yourself in trouble now.” 

you roll your eyes, “did your ears stop working or are you so narcissistic that that’s all you heard?” 

he chuckles to himself, pulling the chair that he sat in last time back over to the desk, “go for it.” 

you unplug your headphones this time, letting the song play out loud. you both nod your head, and you couldn’t help feeling vulnerable as your own personal project plays through the small studio. he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and you couldn’t read his expression. it seemed like focus, but you couldn’t pinpoint any pleasure or dislike. 

he pauses the song, looking dead at you, and you feel two feet tall in the leather chair, “have you applied anywhere for an internship?” 

you blink twice, not expecting the sudden question, “i was planning to look into it later this year.” 

“you need to start looking, you’re good at this shit,” he takes a breath, pressing play to finish the song. your whole body is hot, there’s no way you could pay attention to the rest of the song now. despite the discomfort from the sudden compliment, a surge of confidence rushes through you, twisting the vulnerability into a feeling of pride. 

you realized you haven't even heard anything he’s produced yet, and wonder why his opinion means so much to you. is it just because he’s older? more experienced? because he’s already working with a record label?

“i really fucking like this, ki. we need to get joong in here,” his voice rips you out of your thoughts, realizing he’s already looking at you, “do you mind if i text him to stop by?” 

you quickly shook your head, “not at all, no, tell him to come by,” you tuck your hair behind your ears, “thank you, but there’s nothing you want to add? no constructive criticism?” 

“well it’s not like this is for a class, right?” he asks and you quickly shake your head again, “the art you create is a reflection of you, it represents who you are. your talent, your passion, your personality. i can’t give criticism on something so personal.” 

you both blink at each other before he cracks a small smile, “that was corny, wasn’t it?” 

“no! it wasn’t corny at all, i just wasn’t expecting something so… poetic?” you untuck your hair, nervously fidgeting now, “i guess there’s a lot i don’t know about you either.” 

“well what do you want to know?” he asks, mimicking your words from the last time you two spoke. 

“everything,” you took a breath, “i want to know everything.” 

the next few hours were spent with the two of you talking about every thought that popped into both of your brains. each story you told reminded him of a similar one he had, which reminded you of a similar story you had, and the cycle went on and on.

he told you about his childhood, moving to another country with yunho in tow and nothing else to his name. yunho’s version you’ve already heard, but hearing the second telling of the story left a different impact. mingi talked about yunho with stars in his eyes, he spoke of him so highly, yunho is someone he held close to his heart. 

he talked about coming to new york, his dream of becoming a successful music producer, the dream you both shared. you reveled in your shared dream for a bit, how you wanted to succeed, what genres you preferred, tips and tricks of the trade. he showed you a couple songs on his phone, and you were right to hold your opinion of him so high, his style is unlike anything you’ve ever heard. 

he grew up listening to a plethora of genres, his favorite being rock, he went to as many concerts as he could for as many different genres as he could, and spent plenty of nights by himself writing music. he’s a rapper as well as a producer, most of his music has his vocals and rap lines over it, all written by himself. his knowledge and experience shows through his music, his art, it’s motivating more than anything. it gives you a clearer goal, an objective for your own future. 

“what the fuck is fix on?”

“my tag, like an ad-lib.” 

“like karate kid? wax on, wax off.” 

that made him laugh, and laugh loud, “it’s for like, determination, i guess. like to be fixed on a goal or a target.” 

“i like it, mister miyagi.”

mingi and hongjoong got close when they met their freshman year, and became inseparable. they share the same values, have the same dream, and are both extremely talented individuals. when put together, they’re truly special. he showed you one or two tracks hongjoong had a hand in and it blew you away. their style was so unique, a mixture of genres that bled into one sound, but it worked. it worked so fucking well. you knew in your heart they were going to run the industry one day, and you’d be their number one competitor.

you got into your childhood, you shared the feeling of moving somewhere new with nothing to your name. his was a lot greater, you’d just hopped a couple states over. but the two of you could relate to one another, on a deeper level than either of you thought you would. there are too many things that the two of you shared… it scared you and excited you. 

somewhere in those hours you moved from the leather chairs to the couch, you sat facing him with your knees bent up right beside his torso. your shoes had come off, his hoodie that smelled so deliciously like him had swallowed you over your jumpsuit. his arm stretched across the couch behind you, touching your shoulder every now and then, reminding you of that uncomfortable feeling which kept itself seated at the pit of your stomach. 

“we have more in common than i initially thought, i think,” you leaned your head to the side, facing him still, the top of your head hitting the back of the couch. 

“i had a feeling we would get along. you’re too bright eyed to be a local, too talented to be boring,” he answered, his arm stretched behind your head bent up to pat your head. 

“did hongjoong ever answer you?” you asked, realizing he never showed up. you played with the sleeves of his hoodie mindlessly, looking up at him.

“can i be honest?” a rhetorical question, his eyes looking down at your sleeves, “i never texted him.” 

both of you giggled like little kids, his chest rising and lowering with each laugh. this comfort, this ease you both clearly feel, you didn’t want it to stop. it was so easy to talk to him, your conversation had a constant flow from the time he walked into the room. 

you let out a tsk, “you’re gatekeeping me, song mingi, and that’s no fun.” 

“if anyone‘s gatekeeping you, it’s jeongin,” his snap is quick, like he was waiting to bring up jeongin. your jaw drops before a laugh erupts from your throat. 

you sit up and smack his shoulder playfully, “you’re fucked up!” 

he shrugs, “it’s true.” he isn’t laughing, there’s no smile on his face. he’s dead serious. you should get up, you should leave, you should at least tell him not to say things like that. but you don’t.

your laughter dies and you’re both staring at each other, a stillness overtaking the room. it’s deafening, the close proximity in which you’re sitting now feels incriminating. your sock covered foot touching his thigh feels like it’s on fire. 

“mingi,” your voice is so low it’s almost a whisper, that pit feeling in your stomach you pushed down only growing.

“tell me there’s nothing between us, that there isn’t this thing that would’ve started last week if you didn’t have him,” his face is blank, you couldn’t read him. every feature is perfectly in place as he looks at you, no dishonesty in his eyes — just veracity. 

“why?” is all you ask, voice small. you didn’t dare move an inch, you didn’t break contact, fear breaking out across your skin. fear for what, you couldn’t place. 

“i want to kiss you, i know i shouldn’t, but i’m starting to not give a fuck anymore. i need you to tell me no,” his voice is also low, raspy but still laced with confidence. he sits forward a bit, head turning to face you more. your eyes drift from his own to his lips, those lips you’d been seeing in your dreams. bottom lip red from how often he pulls it between his teeth, both wet from how many times he’s licked them to soothe them over. they were inviting, you wondered what they tasted like, what they’d feel like pressed against your own. 

“ki, if you don’t answer i’m going to assume it’s a yes. say no,” he repeats, whispering the last part, and you look back up to his eyes. every ounce of your body that was feeling fear a moment ago is replaced with need, a demand so great that it’s pulsing through you, a desperation you haven’t felt in a long time. there was no other thought in your brain other than what he felt like. you needed to know, fuck the consequences. 

with a speed you’ve only experienced with one other person, his lips are pressed to yours. you couldn’t think, you couldn’t process, you couldn’t think of anything other than him and how much you wanted him.

his lips tasted so entirely like him, wet and messy and sweet. his hands confidently wrapped around your head like they were made for this purpose, his lips fitting so perfectly between your own you can’t imagine anyone else’s being there again. it was fascinating, one kiss changing everything you knew about yourself. 

you had one boyfriend back at home. you started dating when you were seventeen, a junior in high school, he was your first everything. you were so wrapped around his finger you thought you’d be married by twenty. you could see it: the two of you living in new york city together, in a big penthouse, a fat diamond on your finger. he was lanky, a tall boy with pretty white teeth and shaggy brown hair, he was everything you thought you wanted in a partner. he was funny, quiet but he knew when to use his voice, he was insistent on what was best for you and your future. 

then the time came for you to graduate, and around that time you were a fucking mess. as much as you needed to leave home to go to a big city with big opportunities, of course, leaving everyone you’ve ever known destroyed you. the day you graduated high school you broke it off with him. you told him it was because you were leaving and there was no way a long distance relationship would work, but you knew if you truly loved him you would've made it work. you knew when you came to the city of dreams you’d meet someone who swept you off your feet. 

as mingi scooped you off your spot on the couch and onto his lap, you knew you were right. you’ve always been loyal to jeongin, you’d barely ever looked in anyone else’s direction. you were fully convinced jeongin was the one you’d be in that penthouse with, and he’d be the one to get on one knee and put that diamond around your finger. 

jeongin has never once treated you this way, and god does it feel good. you’d never once felt this level of greed, this level of desperation. like you’re the last sip of water in a desert and mingi hasn’t had a drop in days. your thighs wrapped around mingi’s hips and his hands found your waist, tongues in a battle to see who wanted the other more. you were both out of breath, the kiss never once breaking, and your brain was on a carousel. all you could think was how good this feels, how good he feels and that you wanted more on repeat. until the one person’s face who should not be in your head right now popped in to remind you what the fuck you were doing. 

you broke away, wide eyed, with a hushed fuck.

a muttered fuck fuck fuck left your lips as you got off his lap, quickly backing up two steps away from him.

“i’m sorry,” he blurts out, pulling his shirt over what you were just happily grinding yourself against, “ki, i’m so sorry.”

“shut up,” you snap, with your hands out in front of you, eyes shut, “let me think.”

this is okay, you can get away with this. no one needs to know what just happened. it was once, you needed to get it out of your system. you’ll never do it again. it’s okay. no one can know, though. not a single person in the world can find out what just happened, you and mingi both need to take it to the grave. as long as no one finds out, you’ll be safe. you and jeongin will be happy. it’ll work out. this is okay. it’s okay.

“you tell no one,” you say shakily, your voice low, “not yunho, not hongjoong, not any of your other friends. no one.”

he hurriedly nods, “i won’t tell a soul, please don’t freak out. i’m sorry ki.”

you gathered your backpack, throwing your headphones and all the other shit you had sprawled across the desk into it. you threw it over your shoulders, heading for the door.

“ki?” he calls from the couch, and you pause, turning your head to look at him.

“my hoodie.”

[leaawrites]

Your Girlfriend

Eli Hewson x fem!reader

Summary: when Eli meets up with an old friend, he's far more interested in the girlfriend

Warnings: toxic relationship (not Eli), misogyni, swearing, indications of wanting someone to break up with their partner, angst, fluff

Wordcount: 2.1k

Masterlist, Inhaler Masterlist

Eli had always been observant.

His eyes flicking over every person's head. Watching the way someone lifted up their cup or how they were holding their pen. Watching someone's eyes move to every side when talking or focusing straight ahead.

Noticing the people sitting on table across the room that would stay unnoticed by most people on a sunny Wednesday morning while waiting for an old school friend of his. Searching for no face in particular but finding hers instead.

Eyes focused on the pages of her book, coffee in front of her. Sitting all alone and he would've walked over, said hello and tried getting her to agree on a second cup he'd pay for. Bu then the door opened and a face whose details were still familiar to his mind came walking in. Eyes darting across the room. Finding his first.

Lifting his hand, Eli tried waving him over. But instead of straight walking over to the window seat, his friend walked to the right. Knitting his eyebrows Eli watched where he went to. Trying to see if he recognized anyone else. He didn't. There was no one else around he would remember.

The cafe was almost empty, still the air felt heavy as Eli watched where he was walking. Over to her. Hand on the back of her chair, getting her attention by a knock on the wooden table. Looking up, a bright smile etched itself on her face. Standing up to kiss him. A ring smirking at him from where her hand rested on his friend's cheek. The diamond reflecting in the sunlight he was sitting under.

They walked over together, her taking her coffee and trying to balance it with her book in the other hand and not spill a drop that was still in it. Walking over to him.

Eli stood as quick as he took back control of his mind. Making his hand move towards the two of them. Hugging him, shaking her hand, saying hello. "Nice to meet you," when they were introduced.

"That's my partner," Tom, his friend, had introduced her as. Her name following swiftly after, like he had to prove that he knew it. She was smiling at him. Cup set down. Book stuffed into her bag like she wasn't fully invested in the story two minutes ago.

My partner. Not girlfriend. Not fiancee. Wife. Just partner.

Still the diamond clung to her ring finger, mischievously mocking him. Left hand over the right one. Engaged, clearly.

"How have you been?" Tom asked, hand resting on her thigh for a second before patting the flesh and taking it back onto the table. Fingers clutched together.

"Good," Eli answered, eyes focused on his friend's hands. Why would he touch his own skin if he could touch hers? "The band's doing great. We just finished the North America Tour. Europe's next." Why was he leaned so forward. No arm draped around the back of her chair, smoothing out the tension in her shoulders. "How about you?"

"Yeah, good," Tom answered. "Work's great. It is really busy though lately. I barely have time to do stuff I like." He's gonna say, 'spend time with my fiancee', right? Eli thought of the words so clearly he barely comprehended what he answered instead. "It's so hard staying away from golf for so long. I miss flying out over the weekend."

Eli's eyes flew over to her, watching her sucked lip between her teeth, fingers anxiously tapping against her bicep. Eyes never focused on one thing for too long to take notice of it's details.

"Must be heartbreaking," he answered, leaning back, sarcasm dripping down his tongue. "Anything else?"

"It is, let me tell you that," Tom answered. "We've only gotten our membership to one of the most private clubs in France and all of a sudden I need to do something at every hour."

"You two?" Eli pointed between the couple who seemed to sit a mile apart from each other around the small table.

"Oh no, she doesn't play. Way too focused on those little articles of hers." Tom waved it off like nothing else.

Her head falling down in shame, not surprise. Past conversations that went the same flashing back into her mind. Laughter falling from the other side most times, an 'why does she need to work with a man like you?' coming from others. Never a genuine interest in talking to her. She was just there to sit still, look pretty and help him seem like a good person. One worth staying for.

"What do you write about?" Eli asked instead, the table standing in silence. His whole body was now turned towards her as her head perked up again. Trying to make sure she was spoken to before answering.

"Just this and that," she vaguely said.

"Nothing on great importance," Tom answered. "Nothing you'd find in a good paper at least. Neither informative or intelligent. Mostly just shoes, make up. The usual stuff only women are interested. She's gonna stop with it though, once we get married, have kids. It's gonna be too much for her."

And then the conversation wore on. Tom's voice filling the whole cafe as the other two bodies sat in silence for most of the time. Her with her head down. Eli with a thousand ideas of how they could escape this. Breaking the window with his chair and the two of them running out together, her spilling her coffee over Tom's trousers to excuse herself to the bathroom but instead the two of them would run away. A robber would walk in - Ryan could probably pull it off. A car could crash into the shop.

The ideas got more absurd the longer he sat and listened. His eyes always focused on the way her arms were crossed over her chest, chest falling up and down with every deep breath she took. Her face falling into her face but she didn't push it away. It only hid her more from Tom.

Until his daydreaming found an end by a phone ringing. Tom's phone. Finally making him shut up about the deal he'd made with one of their old teachers.

"Hello," he answered, straightening his tie as soon as the voice on the other end spoke. "Shit." Another beat of silence, muffles treating out from the speaker. "Yeah, I'll be there."

And then he stood up, phone stuffed in his jacket pocket, money thrown on the table. An rushed, "Sorry, guys. Work's calling me." A hasted kiss on her cheek as he stood up and a rushed wave as he walked out the door until the ding over it finally announced his departure.

Now they were sat alone, two throats that were dry from the silence they had left in the conversation. Eyes darting around the room as they both waited for the other to say something. Dismiss themselves or asking the other to leave as both their cups were still half full.

"How the fuck do you get on with him?" Eli finally said, head thrown back into his neck as he let out a groan.

A laugh bubbling out of her as she watched his dramatic play.

"I mean, I never liked him the best back in school but, man, has he fallen off." Shaking his head, he finally looked at her. A kind of relief of Tom's absence clearly visible in her eyes. The tension in her shoulders finally released.

"There are actually a lot of people who enjoy his company," she said back and he couldn't get it into his head. Why was she still defending him after the conversation he'd just witnessed?

"I'm in the minority then," he shrugged, sitting up straighter. "At least I got good company there." At the confused look that passed over her face, he leaned on the table, closer to her now. "You didn't seem to keen on listening to him talk too."

Keeping his attention on her, he couldn't miss the guilty look washing over her face.

"It's only because I've listened to that conversation about a hundred times before already," she defended him still.

"So you've listened to him belittle your work about a hundred times too?"

"It doesn't come up that often," she said, swirling the cold substance in her cup.

"You wanna have another one?" Eli asked as he already stood up and walked over to the counter. Walking back with two coffees in hand. Putting one of them in front of her. Sitting down on the chair Tom once occupied. Moving closer to her, knees almost touching. One arm propped up on the table, his head laying in his hand as he looked at her. "So what do you write about?"

"I think he summed it up pretty perfectly already?" she said, shoulders slumping down, a slight pink coloring her cheeks as he sat so close she could smell his cologne and the faint rain from the morning still etched on his hoodie.

"I don't think he did." Eli shook his head. Tilting his head a bit more. "What do you write about? Who do you write for? Why are you gonna stop doing it?"

"You're very interested in other people's life, huh?" she chuckled, taking a sip of her new, warm coffee.

"I'm always interested in pretty and intelligent girls," he said back, shrugging like it was nothing.

Leaning back in his chair, legs stretching out in front of him. Trapping her own leg between them. One of his legs moving between her own, their knees touching. His thigh pressed against hers. Leaving her space to answer but not to breath properly.

Straightening her spine, she composed herself, but didn't move her leg away. Relaxing the muscles in her body once she found her voice again, still slightly wavering as she answered. "I mostly write about fashion, trend predictions and costume analyses from movies or celebrities. All that stuff. Sometimes also on music, album or single reviews as well as interviews. Kind of everything that interests me. Working for magazines like Vogue or Dork kind of takes up a lot of time, I won't be able to manage all my time once Tom wants to have kids."

"Kids you don't want?" he guessed, making her eyes narrow at him. "At least not now, right? Or am I wrong?"

"I could wait a few more years," she confessed, falling back into herself. "But he wants them and his mother has been asking non stop lately."

"But it's still your body," he reminded her. "It should still be your decision."

"It is my decision," she said, voice growing louder. Her mind growing more frustrated. Words tumbling over each other.

"If you say so," he said, taking his own cup and falling back into silence with her.

Thinking the topic had died on both their tongues until she let out, "I mean, what would you do in my situation? I can't just say no every time someone asks about it."

"The same way you couldn't say no to the ring on your finger?" He knew he was pushing her over an edge now. They both knew it, though neither was totally sure what would be on the bottom if she fell. Still he didn't stop. "Or was the obnoxious big diamond your decision too?"

"OK, thanks for the coffee, but I don't think talking to you any longer is an idea I find entertaining," she said, packing up her stuff and getting ready to leave. The coffee now empty.

Squeezing his eyes shut and running his hand over his face, he knew he fucked up. "Wait!" he called out after her, standing up too. Pocketing Tom's left over money that wasn't needed since you pay directly after ordering. "I'm sorry, alright?"

Following her in a quick pace, Eli caught up to her fast step and avoidant eyes in only a few seconds. Catching her head turning away from him in the corner of his eye. Taking her shoulders in his hands and making her stop walking. Slightly tumbling into his chest at the force with which she was stopped.

"I didn't mean to put you down like that, alright?" he started apologizing, turning her head towards him so she would look at him. "It's just - Why are you with a guy like him?"

"If he doesn't talk about himself, what does he talk about? From what I've witnessed I don't think it's you. Or anything you're interested in," Eli continued talking, keeping her in place and unable to run away. "Look, I'm not saying you should dump him and break through with some guy you just met. I just think you could do better."

"Oh yeah, like who? Some guy who will be sweet and kind and caring until I show the slightest bit of personality that isn't being a silent body to look at? I think I'll pass. Thanks though." Trying to walk away once more, he caught her wrist with a slight grip. Tucking her closer.

"We have an additional show here tomorrow," Eli offered, his grip slightly losing itself from her skin. Still his touch burned inside her chest. "Come by if you want to, alright? Maybe with an answer to my question?"

[scoobydoodean]

I think that people may be interpreting 'Dean has valid reasons to be angry with Castiel' as 'Castiel should allow Dean to use him as a verbal and emotional punching bag'. Which is a completely new sentence that has nothing to do with the initial premise, but I do think that may account for some of the disconnect. I think Cas was well within his rights to leave in the face of Dean treating him coldly, but I also emphatically agree with your point that Dean's forgiveness was *expected* and that Castiel was taking that as a given, and was upset that it wasn't immediately granted.

Berens dropping the thread about Cas lone wolfing (that you very clearly laid out in one of your other asks) also seems to have influenced the perception of Dean being angry over a single incident. I personally feel as though the fandom occasionally forgets the events of s13 and how devastated Dean was, and how his reaction to the events of s14 are influenced by that. People love to talk about Dean's widow arc or whatever, but never about what led up to it in the first place. Cas engaging in a pattern of behavior that historically never ends well and leaving Dean to pick up the pieces doesn't make him a bad person and doesn't make his relationship with Dean irreparable, but it does mean that Dean is allowed to be angry, even if that anger seems stronger than is warranted. Dean's supposed anger issues have never been a roadblock in the destiel relationship - but Cas eschewing teamwork in favor of going it alone has ALWAYS been a problem for them and the trap just reinforces that.

sorry for this rant! thank you for your dean girl service 🫡

Totally agree with everything you said. I also think some people really really like this episode, and it's very difficult for them not to take it personally when someone else doesn't, and not to make a considerable number of assumptions about the other person's views. Some people really want this episode to be objectively good, instead of recognizing that whether an episode is good or not is ultimately subjective. That subjective opinion might be built upon objective facts that two people don't agree on, and questioning the validity of one another's perceptions of what did and didn't happen leading up to the episode is fine. But I have zero interest in re-litigating whether deangirls are allowed to dislike The Trap, nor do I have any stake in trying to keep people from liking it, or in gatekeeping the show or characters over how anyone feels about this episode. And I think too many people (including people who don't like the episode) feel at least a little invested in making whether people like or dislike this episode some sort of weird dividing line it simply isn't and never will be. It genuinely just isn't that serious.

[thelittlestladylikesthis]

The Pink Rose, part 5

Part Five- July 7th, 74 ADD

Pairing: Haymitch Abernathy x reader 

Word count: 2,119

Warnings: heterosexual relationship, light smut, fluff, reference to violence, arguing

It had been three days since [Y/n] and Haymitch had accompanied their tributes to the Capitol. Three days since Haymitch’s bad first impression had potentially revealed what the tributes were capable of. [Y/n] sat staring at her plate of eggs, toast, and bacon. She had a notebook and pen for notes as she listened to Haymitch explain the importance of the training days and knowing what their skills are. 

As in most things, Katniss was conservative about her skills. Peeta emphasized how good of a shot she was with a bow and arrow. Katniss responds by mentioning Peeta could throw hundred pound bags of flour and that he knows how to wrestle. 

“What use is that? How many times have you seen someone wrestle someone to death?” Peeta said with a grimace.

Katniss shot back with an angry tone, “There’s always hand-to-hand combat. All you need is to come up with a knife, and you’ll at least stand a chance. If I get jumped, I’m dead!” 

“But you won’t! You’ll be living up in some tree eating raw squirrels and picking off people with arrows. You know what my mother said to me when she came to say good-bye, as if to cheer me up, she says maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner. Then I realized, she didn’t mean me, she meant you!” Peeta shouted.

“Oh, she meant you,” Katniss dismissed.

“She said, ‘She’s a survivor, that one.’She is,” Peeta said quietly.

The room stood still. [Y/n] felt her heart drop and an instant dislike of Mrs. Mellark. Who in Panem tells their own child they’re going to die after being selected in a reaping. The farewell opportunity is a time to wish for their safety and build them up. That bitch tore him down- she berated her son for someone else’s daughter.

After Peeta and Katniss calm down, Haymitch hesitantly restarts the conversation and insists that they spend their training days learning a new skill and under no circumstances showing the other tributes what they’re capable of- to save that for the Gamemakers.

“One last thing. In public, I want you by each other’s side every minute,” says Haymitch. The two teens start to object before Haymitch makes everyone jump by slamming his hand on the table, “Every minute! It’s not open for discussion! You agreed to do as I said! You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other. Now get out. Meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training.”

The two of them left the room and the sound of Katniss’ bedroom slamming echoed through their quarters.

“You’re not doing yourself any favors in her eyes,” [Y/n] said.

“I’m not here to be her friend, I don’t even want to be a mentor. But since she threw a knife and you’re more invested in what you see, I’m willing to play along,” Haymitch explained., “What are you doing?”

[Y/n] looked at him out the side of her eye and saw he was referring to her notes, “I’m writing what I know. I’m trying to see what I can confidently say or twist for the sponsors. But I need to be careful,”

“Careful? I think you mean ruthless,”

“No. Careful. The deepest pockets always want something in return. I also need to remember who I have dirt on,”

“You sound like Finnick Odair,”

“Not necessarily a bad thing in this scenario. He’s good at getting sponsors and since we’re good friends, it might be entertaining to see who we can snag this year,” [Y/n] smirked.

Haymitch chuckled in unison. The idea of pulling a fast one on some of the other tributes was an entertaining thought. He didn’t realize how fast time had gone until Peeta and Katniss emerged from their rooms, ready to go find Effie.

Once they were truly alone, Haymitch rose from his chair to stand behind [Y/n]’s chair, “You should really loosen up Sweetheart,” Haymitch whispers as he starts to rub [Y/n]’s neck and shoulders. As excitable as having beloved tributes is, it is almost more stressful than having tributes who fly under the radar. [Y/n] gave a quiet moan of pleasure as Haymitch somehow gave an excellent shoulder massage. His strong, rough fingers ran up and down the stiff muscles in her shoulders, attempting to break up the solid tension that had built there. Suddenly, Haymitch’s hands slowly made their way over her shoulders and over the front of her dress. In the same instant, his lips rest just under her jawbone. He began to kiss her neck with enthusiasm; lightly sucking the skin and running the tip of his tongue over the same spot. [Y/n] felt a shiver run through her body. The heat where he kissed her neck resonated through her torso and went down between her legs. The burn increased as his hands cupped her breasts and found their way under the fabric.

Haymitch whispered against her skin, “It’s been a while since we tried this,”

[Y/n] responded with soft chuckle, “It’s been less than three days,”

“Less than three days too long,” he whispered as hands massaged her breasts.

[Y/n] reached around and ran her fingers into his curls. Her back began to arch as Haymitch circled her nipples with his thumb. His lips left her skin and he trailed his nose up until she felt his warm breath on her ear, “I wanna take you on this table,” he growled. [Y/n] melted at the sound of his lowered voice.

“This better not become a regular occurrence!” a familiar voice trilled prompting [Y/n] and Haymitch to immediately separate. Effie quickly walked across the room muttering quietly, “You’d think they own the place!”

[Y/n] stood up and placed one hand on Haymitch’s chest, “She’s right, we really should be more careful,” 

“We still have an hour to be careful,” Haymitch said as he scooped her up.

“Haymitch!” [Y/n] squealed as he quickly headed towards his bedroom.

“At least be quiet!” Effie yelled from the other room.

*     *     *

After six days in the Capitol, six days of [Y/n] schmoozing sponsors, mediating conversations between Haymitch, Katniss, and Peeta, and having a few short interviews with Caesar Flickerman, came private session day. The day where Katniss and Peeta show what they can do. The sessions started after lunch, but Katniss and Peeta would go last since they were from District 12. [Y/n] remembered how infuriating that was. If you were from 12, it was likely that the Gamemakers had indulged themselves on food and drink by the time it was your turn. They were either drunk, tired, or passed out after watching over 20 other demonstrations. 

Effie and Haymitch were engaged in a conversation about the sponsors they’d already gained when Cinna and Portia got off the elevator. It was almost dinner time and they’d want to be hearing about how the sessions went. After about 20 minutes, Peeta got off the elevator and walked to his room to change clothes. Roughly 15 minutes later, Katniss burst out of the elevator and nearly sprinted to her room. Effie, Haymitch, and Portia call after her from the sitting room, but she doesn’t stop. Peeta was in the hall when she passed him, “Hey, was she crying?” he asked with concern. [Y/n] and Effie tried to get Katniss to open the door, but she just yelled for them to go away.

Effie tried again at dinner time and this time returned with Katniss. Katniss avoided eye contact with everyone, including Cinna and  [Y/n]. After a few minutes of small talk, the Avoxes bring dinner to the table and Haymitch starts:

“Okay, enough small talk, just how bad were you today?” [Y/n] rolled her eyes and gave him a look of utter disbelief. 

Before Katniss could respond, Peeta said, ““I don’t know that it mattered. By the time I showed up, no one even bothered to look at me. They were singing some kind of drinking song, I think. So, I threw around some heavy objects until they told me I could go.”

“Figures,” scoffed [Y/n].

Cinna shook his head in disappointment, “If they’re going to send them all into the same arena, they could at least afford the same attention instead of acting like that,”

“And you, sweetheart?” asked Haymitch.

Katniss’ eyes remained on her empty plate, “I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers,” the room silenced immediately.

“You what?” Effie yelled angrily, face draped in uncharacteristic horror. 

“I shot an arrow at them. Not exactly at them. In their direction. It’s like Peeta said, I was shooting and they were ignoring me and I just ... I just lost my head, so I shot an apple out of their stupid roast pig’s mouth!” Katniss said with a matter of fact tone of defiance.

“Are you crazy?” Effie almost yelled and saw Haymitch looking at her with a smirk, “I don’t think we’re going to find this funny if-”

“If what?” Haymitch interjected, “If they decide to punish someone?” he gestured to Katniss and Peeta with one hand and himself and [Y/n] with the other, “I think they already have, loosen your corset, have a drink,”

Cinna turned back to Katniss and carefully asked, “And what did they say?”

“Nothing. Or I don’t know. I walked out after that,” she responded

“Without being dismissed?” [Y/n] probed

“I dismissed myself,”

“Are you crazy?!” Effie trilled.

Haymitch ripped off a hunk of meat from his pork chop and leaned over to take a bite before stopping and chuckling,”What were their faces like?”

[Y/n] could see the twitch of a smile on the edges of Katniss’ mouth, “Shocked. Terrified. Uh, ridiculous, some of them. One man tripped backward into a bowl of punch.”

Everyone but Effie burst into a fit laughter. Haymitch even looked as if he were going to cry. [Y/n] had not had a laugh that good in a long while.

Effie looked as if she were trying to avoid smiling, “Well, it serves them right. It’s their job to pay attention to you. And just because you come from District Twelve is no excuse to ignore you, that’s what I think,”

“I’ll get a very bad score,” the smile slowly fell from Katniss’ face.

“Scores only matter if they’re very good, no one pays much attention to the bad or mediocre ones,” Portia chipped in.

“For all they know, you could be hiding your talents to get a low score on purpose. People use that strategy all the time,” [Y/n] said with a reassuring smile.

[Y/n] turned her attempt at motherly reassurance to Peeta as he followed her with, “I hope that’s how people interpret the four I’ll probably get… if that,”

After dinner, the group settles in the sitting room to watch the scores be announced on television. A photo of the tribute appears on the screen and after they’ve been introduced, their score appears below them. The Career Tributes all score between 8 and 10. Most others score around 5. [Y/n] reminds Peeta and Katniss that this is normal. Then remembers most District 12 tributes generally score 4-6 and hopes that Katniss and Peeta don’t remember that.

Twenty-two tributes go across the screen when they finally see Peeta. The group celebrates while Peeta comes to terms with his score of 8. Katniss remained stoic in her seat, radiating anxiety before her number flashes underneath her picture:

“Eleven!” Effie squeals.

Cinna and Portia cheer and congratulate her. [Y/n] and Haymitch excitedly give each other a hug and then join the congratulations.

Katniss is still in disbelief, “There must be a mistake. How ... how could that happen?”

“I guess they liked your guts,” Haymitch said. 

“They’ve got a show to put on. They need some players with heat.” [Y/n] added.

“Katniss, the girl who was on fire,” says Cinna, “Oh, wait until you see your interview

dress.” 

“More flames?” Katniss asked 

“Of a sort,” he chuckled mischievously.

The group wrapped up the congratulations, discussed their schedules for tomorrow, and headed off to their rooms. 

Back in his room and uncharacteristically brushing his teeth before bed, Haymitch felt a pair of arms wrap around him. He looked down and recognized the carefully manicured hands of [Y/n]. 

“Hey there, sweetheart,”

[Y/n] nuzzled her forehead between his shoulder blades, “Do you think they can do it?”

“Well I know you don’t mean ‘can they both win’. So, do what?”

“Work together. Can one of them overcome this?”

“I guess we’ll see. There’s something there in both of them,”

Masterlist

[tomhardystories]

Part 19

I need to give a small warning: mature content (a little bit of recklessness near a coatroom ;-))

"What the hell happened here?" Tom asked, dropping his bag by the door.

"I tried to cook" she said flatly, gesturing to the smoking mess. "Clearly, it didn't go well."

Tom smirked, wrapping an arm around her. "You tried? I'm impressed."

"Don't be" she muttered. "This was supposed to be lasagna. Now it's just sadness."

He laughed, grabbing an apron. "Step aside, chef. Let me show you how it's done."

An hour later, they were sitting at the table, eating slightly burnt, but still edible lasagna, teasing each other the whole time. Jules raised her glass.

"You're my hero" she said, smirking.

"And you are dangerous" he replied.

Then there were the nights spent fighting over the remote - Jules wanting her true crime documentaries, Tom insisting on football.

"I've had a long day" Jules said, clutching the remote like a lifeline. "I deserve something intellectually stimulating."

"You mean the show about blood splatter patterns? Super relaxing" Tom countered, trying to wrestle the remote out of her hands.

"And you screaming at men chasing a ball is relaxing?" she shot back.

The struggle continued until Jules pulled the ultimate move - hiding the remote in her oversized hoodie pocket.

Tom stared at her, unimpressed. "Really? That’s your move?"

"Yup" she said smugly.

Without warning, Tom lunged, tickling her sides until she shrieked, the remote falling to the floor. He grabbed it triumphantly.

"Football it is" he declared, grinning.

At a friend’s wedding, Jules and Tom were seated with her friends, and a group of people they barely knew.  

Everything was going smoothly until  the topic of their first meeting came up.

"She was rude" Tom said, cutting into his cake. 

"I wasn’t rude"  Jules protested, sipping her mimosa. 

"You rolled your eyes at me. AT ME! And you’re doing it now! Look at her!"

The table erupted into laughter as Jules crossed her arms, fuming. 

"Best decision of my life, though" Tom said, grinning. 

Jules raised an eyebrow. "You mean me?'

"No" he said, pointing at his plate. "Coming to this wedding. This cake tastes like heaven!"

The rest of the evening passed quite peacefully until someone else decided to ask about the secret to their happy relationship.

"Communication" Jules said. "And compromise."

Tom snorted. "You? Compromise? That's rich."

The table laughed nervously as Jules raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm sorry. I compromise all the time."

"Sure you do" Tom said, smirking. "Like when you insisted on repainting the living room because the exact same color suddenly looked wrong."

"It was not the same color" Jules said sharply. "It was two shades darker."

"Totally worth three weekends of work" Tom said dryly.

"Oh, because your football marathons are such a productive use of time!" Jules fired back.

The table was now fully invested, exchanging wide-eyed glances as the two continued.

"Alright alright kids" Miranda interrupted, holding up her glass. "Let’s toast to the happy couple and not murder each other at someone else’s wedding."

Before clinking glasses, Jules and Tom exchanged a look. 

And so, another holiday season arrived. Their second Christmas together. This time in London, with Tom's parents and little Louis.

Even the holidays were an event. Tom's family hosted an annual Christmas tree decorating party, which turned into a battlefield.

"This side looks bare" Jules said, stepping back to survey the tree.

"It's fine" Tom insisted, hanging a bauble.

Jules moved it an inch to the left. "Now it's balanced."

Tom stared at her, exasperated. "What’s the difference?"

"It’s about balance" she said, moving another ornament.

"You’re just rearranging everything I already hung up"

"Jesus Christ, because you did it wrong!"

Tom's mom chuckled as Tom crossed his arms. "Mum! She's ruining Christmas again."

Jules whirled around. "Again? Last year, you broke the star!"

"Charlotte’s dog broke the star" Tom corrected.

"Because you threw a tennis ball at him."

His mom stepped in, laughing. "Save the bickering for Boxing Day."

Some nights were soft - like the chilly evening they strolled through Central Park. Tom carried two cups of hot chocolate, and Jules, ever so subtly, kept switching to his right side.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Tom asked.

"I prefer walking on the right" Jules said matter-of-factly.

Tom stopped walking. "Is this an unspoken rule of the universe?"

"It is for me" she said, smirking.

Tom took a dramatic sip of his drink. "Fine. I’ll walk on your left for the rest of my life. It’ll be my burden to bear."

Later that night, Jules found him practicing his "left side walk" in front of the mirror.

"This is where she wants me" he muttered, pretending to wipe away a tear. She howled with laughter, throwing a pillow at him.

Tom rarely asked Jules for help with his work, but one evening, he handed her a script for an upcoming movie and asked her opinion. 

"Just tell me if it’s shit" he said, tossing it onto the couch where she was curled up with her book. 

"Wow…" she said, picking up the script. "Such a ringing endorsement for your career." Despite the teasing, Jules spent the next three hours reading it cover to cover. When she was done, she handed it back with pages of sticky notes. 

"What’s all this?" Tom asked, flipping through the notes. 

"Suggestions" she replied, shrugging. "Your character’s dialogue was clunky, and the big speech at the end? Way too cheesy. You’d hate saying those lines."

Tom stared at her, blinking. "You tore apart the whole thing."

"I made it better" she corrected. 

He read through her notes later and realized she had made it better.

"Oh, and I expect a cut of your paycheck for this."

One evening, Jules and Tom sat on their balcony, both tucked under the same oversized blanket. A single cigarette glowed faintly between them, its ember flickering like a heartbeat in the dark.

Jules took a long drag, letting the smoke linger for a moment before she passed the cigarette to Tom. He held it between his fingers, looking out over the skyline.

"We’re disgusting" Jules muttered with a smirk.

Tom glanced at her. "Speak for yourself. I’m elegance personified." He took a slow pull and exhaled.

"Sure. That’s exactly what the doctor would say when we both roll into the ER someday" she teased, nudging his knee with her foot.

Tom handed the cigarette back. "We’ll be old and gross by then anyway. Might as well enjoy it now."

Jules smiled, blowing a thin stream of smoke into the air. "What would the headlines say? ‘Tom Hardy seen sharing a dirty habit with his equally deranged woman.’"

"Equally deranged, huh? That’s generous."

"Don’t flatter yourself, Hardy."

They fell into a comfortable silence for a while, passing the cigarette back and forth like a secret. It was the smallest of things - just shared nicotine and soft laughter - but moments like these felt sacred, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Eventually, Jules leaned her head on Tom’s shoulder. "We should quit someday."

Tom smirked, kissing her temple. "Someday. Not tonight."

It was one of those events - glamorous, crowded, and a little too stuffy for Jules’ liking. A fundraiser for one of Tom’s colleagues in the industry. The room buzzed with polite chatter, champagne flutes clinking, and the faint hum of a jazz band playing in the corner. Jules, draped in a black velvet dress that clung to all the right places, was already feeling restless.

Tom noticed, of course. He always noticed.

"You look like you’re about to combust" he whispered in her ear, leaning down as he passed her a glass of champagne.

"It’s the air" Jules muttered. "And the fact that I don’t know half these people and have to keep pretending I care."

Tom grinned, stepping closer. "You care about me being here, though?"

She tilted her head, smirking. "Barely."

It was a joke, but something flickered between them - a tension that had been simmering all evening. Jules knew the look in Tom’s eyes. He was being polite, schmoozing like the professional actor he was, but she could see the edge of distraction. It mirrored her own.

By the time they found themselves alone near the coatroom - Jules excusing herself to "get some air" and Tom following under the guise of making sure she was okay - neither of them was pretending anymore.

"Tell me this is a terrible idea" Jules whispered, her back hitting the wall as Tom’s body hovered close.

"It’s a terrible idea" Tom murmured, his voice low and husky. His hands were already on her waist, fingers brushing over the velvet fabric as if he couldn’t decide whether to pull her closer or keep it slow.

Jules let out a shaky laugh. 

He kissed her - hard, purposeful, like he had been holding himself back all night. Jules melted into him instantly, her fingers tangling in his hair as she tugged him closer. There was no one around. Coats hung on racks nearby, shielding them just enough to let them be reckless.

"Someone’s going to come in here" Jules breathed between kisses, though she made no move to stop him.

Tom’s lips trailed down to her neck as he was unfastening his belt. "Then they’ll get a show."

Jules laughed again, but the sound turned into a soft gasp as his hands found the slit in her dress. At first, he didn’t rush. It was as if he didn’t care at all that someone might catch them any moment. His hand wandered to the place where Jules desired it the most. The risk of getting caught only made it more thrilling - the low light, the muffled sounds of the party beyond the door, the heat building between them.

Tom’s mouth was on hers again in seconds, and whatever restraint either of them had been clinging to snapped. Clothes shifted, buttons came undone, and Jules felt herself losing control of everything but him. It was messy and desperate - pure need. They moved quickly, staring deeply into each other's eyes. Occasionally, Tom covered her mouth with his hand when the moans became too loud and too suspicious.

When it was over, Jules let her head fall back against the wall, her cheeks flushed and her breathing ragged. Tom grinned, standing close as he adjusted his shirt and brushed his knuckles along her jaw.

"Well, that’s one way to get through an event" Jules quipped, still catching her breath.

Tom chuckled, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "You’re dangerous, you know that?"

"Speak for yourself" she shot back, smoothing her dress and trying to regain her composure.

They snuck back into the party a few minutes later, acting as if nothing had happened. But the glint in Tom’s eye and the small smirk Jules couldn’t quite suppress gave them away to anyone paying close attention.

"Didn’t get enough air?" someone asked Jules as she returned to the main room.

"Oh, I got plenty" she replied with a sly smile, catching Tom’s gaze from across the room. 

[dominimoonbeam]

What's Happening?

Gavin/Freelancer sickfic I wrote for @glassbearclock my beloved!

Early early relationship, Freelancer has a cold but is worried that if they cancel on a date with Gavin he won't come back.

tags: sickfic, relationship uncertainties, gavin is a caregiver, light angst

What's Happening?

Freelancer felt like shit. They’d been sucking on throat lozenges like their life depended on it all morning. And it sort of did. At least their sex life did.

Gavin was a daemon, so it wasn’t like they could get him sick, they just had to not be disgusting when he came over tonight.

Fuck, they were so tired, but they dragged themself to the pharmacy and tried to find the strongest cold medicine that wouldn’t completely knock them out. They read the label on another bottle and had to bite off a laugh when it said not to operate heavy machinery. Did Gavin’s dick count? Were they the one operating it? No.

When they noticed someone sneaking a glance at them, they realized they’d laughed aloud. Oh shit, were they acting weird? They felt like a furnace in their hoodie, even though everyone else was wearing big jackets and it was snowing out.

The walk home felt twice as long as ever before. They were so worn out. They had to resist the panicked urge to pop the bottle in that shopping bag and take a few drinks. They needed to get their shit together. They needed to perk up. They had an incubus coming over!

Oh god, what if they couldn’t get it together? What if he realized they were sick? If they weren’t any good tonight, then would he come back again?

They liked Gavin. A lot. And not just for the sex. The sex was amazing, of course. It was the stuff of fantasies that Freelancer had only read and daydreamed about before. Their own brief sexual encounters with other people had been okay, but nothing like this. And Gavin made them feel like they were the deviant, like they were just as prolific and skilled as he was. It felt amazing and empowering and fun. They weren’t ready to give that up, but more than that, so much more than that, they were worried about losing Gavin.

They wanted to believe they were more than just a good meal to him, more than just benefits. They wanted to believe they were friends. But the level of worry they had over not being able to perform tonight was making them realize they really weren’t sure.

And if he didn’t come back, how would they find him? How would they ask how he was doing or if he wanted to hang out?

They were lightheaded by the time they got to their building and leaned heavily against the wall in the elevator. The ding seemed impossibly loud.

Okay. They just had to get to their apartment, chug some of that cold medicine, take a shower, and act like they weren’t ready to sleep for twelve hours.

The elevator dinged and the door rattled open. Freelancer walked down the hall, surprised by how it stretched and wobbled. That can’t be good. They managed to get their keys out and in the door, pushing it open and stumbling in.

“You’re late,” Gavin called from the living room, sounding seductive and guarded like always. “I was starting to think you were standing me up, Deviant. I was about to—Deviant?”

Their knees hit the floor just inside their apartment and they dropped their backpack and the shopping bag, somehow fumbling both in an attempt to hang on to them and to themself while their vision turned too bright and the ground kept sliding under them.

“Deviant?” He was closer. Was that panic in his voice? Shit.

They tried to say they were okay and to apologize, maybe even laugh at how clumsy they were, but everything went dark.

-

Gavin had only gotten there a few minutes before them. He’d actually been late, largely because he was struggling over how eager he was to see them. It wasn’t normal. He shouldn’t be that invested in one of his charges. They came and went. They were there for a good time, a good time he delivered, but he’d always been careful not to get too attached.

So, he’d been intentionally late.

And it hadn’t even mattered because his deviant wasn’t home yet anyway. So he sat on the couch and wondered where they were, if he should leave, if they were over him and onto other things…

And then the door had opened and he’d stayed on the couch, trying not to act overly eager.

And then his deviant had stumbled.

Gavin was there in a flash, standing over them and trying to understand what had happened. Their aura was…strange, and they were breathing fast. They mumbled out a tangle of what he assumed was supposed to be words before their body keeled forward in a dead faint.

Gavin caught them, one hand cupping their head before it could hit the floor. Panic stampeded through him. “Deviant?” he spoke gently, picking them up in his arms and carrying them to the couch. With a thought, he’d closed the front door.

He put them on the couch and their eyes were already fluttering open. “What’s happening?” he almost pleaded, touching their face and neck. They were so hot. This couldn’t be normal for humans. He used magic to search for injuries, for anything he could heal, but there was nothing.

They looked teary, pressing their lips and swallowing hard. They flinched, like that hurt. “Shit… I’m sorry, Gav…” They sat up. He stayed on the coffee table, hands roaming their upper body, afraid they’d tip over again. They coughed and tried to hide it against their arm.

“You’re sick?”

“I’m okay.”

“We should take you to a hospital.”

They smiled a little. “For a cold? No. Seriously, I’m fine.”

“You fainted!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for it!”

They caught one of his hands. They were so warm, but they looked up at him so calmly through those glassy eyes and past those flushed cheeks. “It’s okay, really. I just overdid it, I guess. I probably shouldn’t have gone out.”

“Why did you?”

They deflated, looking down. “I was getting cold medicine. I thought if I could get something to shake the symptoms… you wouldn’t notice.”

He blinked. “I mean, I’m glad you want me that bad, but I’m not sure my dick is actually worth dying for.”

They snorted a laugh and then coughed again, curling an arm over their face. “I mean, I wouldn’t say it’s not... But I just… I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Gavin felt like the world had dropped out from under him. He stared at them. “What?” Disappoint him?

“I know you hang out with me for…” Their aura flinched and twisted, filling with self-doubt and delicate fear. “I didn’t want you to leave or… not come back,” they confessed quietly, shoulders sagging.

Gavin tried to absorb all of that. They had gone out when they were sick to try to get this cold medicine in hopes that he would somehow not notice they were sick so he’d fuck them, not because they wanted to get laid, but because… because they thought that was his only reason for hanging out with them? And why wouldn’t they think that, when he’d definitely always put it that way for himself and for them. But they wanted him to hang out with them… Enough to go through all this effort. Enough to put out when they were definitely not into it. There was a lot about this he hated but the crystal clear center was what almost had him choking up.

Fortunately, his deviant was definitely too sick to notice at the moment.

“I like you,” Gavin said, a little terrified to say it and sort of hoping that fever would keep them from remembering.

They looked up at him, their aura smoothing out with hope. It was beautiful. And it had cost him nothing but the truth. “So… You’ll come back sometime?”

He sighed, pushing some of their hair out of their face. “Oh, deviant… I’m not leaving you like this.”

They blinked and then straightened where they sat. “Y-You want to… I was worried the whole sick thing would be a turn off…”

He laughed darkly. “It’s not, but we’re not going to fuck. You fainted from walking down the hall. What I do with you might kill you right now.”

His deviant chewed their lip, leaning closer. Their weak aura even flared with interest. He smiled. They were incredible. “I don’t think it would… We could try.” They started coughing again, this time rooting around in the pocket of their hoodie, dumping little wrappers before coming out with what looked like a candy. They shoved it in their mouth and sucked.

Gavin ignored the way his dick jumped in his pants. No. Nope. He was not going to take that bait. He snagged one of the wrappers and spread it out, reading it. Medicine.

“We should put you to bed, right? The right way, I mean,” he smirked, floundering a little. What did people do with sick people? “We should get you in your pajamas and into bed and then… water?”

“Yeah, I’ll go to bed… You don’t have to stay, Gavin. I know this isn’t fun—”

“Who says it’s not fun? I’ve never taken care of a human before. Maybe I’ll be good at it…” He smiled. “I’m good at most things I do.”

His deviant smiled. “I believe you.”

He shivered pleasantly and scooped them up. The deviant gasped, throwing arms around his neck in surprise when he picked them up. Somewhere between the living room and their bedroom he vanished their clothes, enjoyed their surprised gasp against his neck and the naked skin in his arms for a split-second, before putting their favorite pajamas on them just as quickly. He settled them on the bed and pulled the covers up over them. He’d never actually pulled the covers up before…

For a second, he stared at them and they stared at him. They were so cute.

What else?

Fluids? That was an illness thing, right? He used magic to make a big glass of water and then considered their sore throat and added a cup of tea.

Deviant smiled, their aura practically shining with happiness despite.

Was it so easy to make all humans happy? Or just his human? He changed into his own comfy sweatpants and crawled in bed with them. “What else do you need?” He pulled their body against his, again surprised by the heat radiating off of them.

“No, that’s great. Thank you. You don’t have to stay.” Their eyelids were heavy.

He stroked their hair the way he knew they liked, of course, usually he did it as a part of aftercare, but care was care, right? “Do you want me to go?”

“No,” they whispered, half-asleep already but the answer coming fast and easy.

“Then I’ll stay.”

They smiled to themself and curled into his chest. He kissed their head. When they were asleep, he magicked their phone from their bag to his hand. He googled colds and what to do. When they woke up, he’d make soup and make sure they drank some of those liquids. It looked like he’d need a thermometer and maybe medicine to reduce a fever if they kept this up. He was going to be a fucking expert when they woke up, but, until then, he stroked their hair and their back and relished the steady pulse of their aura.

[seiya-starsniper]

For the flower prompts: Hyacinth - loser has to ask out...

I will leave pairing(s) to your discretion, whoever most strikes your fancy ❤️

TJ, thank you for the prompt! I went with Dreamling, with a nice little monsterfucker twist to ring in the first day of @monsterfucktoberbingo!

Square: Were-creature.

Flower Prompt Game!

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

“You ready for tonight?” Johanna asks, dropping her densely packed duffel bag onto the table before plopping in the chair next to Hob. She’s tense. Hob can tell without even looking at her. But there’s also a thrum of excitement coming off her in waves.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Hob replies, not looking up from his stake sharpening. “How many stakes have you got in there?” he asks.

“A dozen wooden, and three steel,” Johanna answers, patting the duffel with pride.. “All consecrated, and plenty of holy water.”

“Good girl,” Hob praises her. He means it too. Johanna’s one of the best damn hunters he’s ever worked with, and he knows she’s going to give the vampires they’re hunting tonight absolute hell. It’s one of the biggest nests they’ve ever come across. Nearly six dozen vampires all quartered in a large abandoned grain barn that spans nearly a quarter of an acre. They’ve been hunting all the nearby towns, picking off the elderly first, but soon moving onto the adults and children. Their mission tonight is to raid the nest for hostages and kill any of the guard vampires, then torch the whole thing at dawn when the rest come back to sleep. Their reign of terror should hopefully end tonight.

“How many are you aiming to gank yourself?” Johanna asks casually, but Hob can hear the competition in her tone. 

“You looking to put some money on that?” Hob replies cheekily. “I thought you’d have learned with the banshees that you can’t ever beat my record, Constantine.”

“Those were unfair odds and you know it!” Johanna whines. She’s right, of course. Banshees tended to flock more to men, and so Hob had taken out far more than Johanna had. But a bet was a bet and Johanna had had to clean Hob’s shotguns for a month after.

“I’m just saying,” Hob says, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m happy to let you clean out the Impala when I trounce your numbers tonight.”

Johanna grimaces. It was no secret that Hob lived out of his car and that he was a bit disgusting about it. She’d once opened the back door to sit in the back and had been greeted a rat he hadn’t even known was there. To this day he doesn’t know where it came from. 

“How about this instead?”Johanna replies. “If I get the most vamps in this nest, you have to ask Peggy out.”

Hob sighs. He should’ve seen this coming. “Johanna—”

“I’m serious Hob,” Johanna interrupts him. “I know you two get along and I see the way the two of you look at each other. You’d be good for one another.”

“Peggy’s young,” Hob argues. “She deserves someone who will get her out of this life.”

“You and I both know she’s never getting out of this life,” Johanna replies solemnly. “And she’s 25 for Christ’s sake. Not even a decade younger than you, stop looking at her like a child.”

Johanna was right. She was usually right, not that Hob would ever tell her unless under extreme duress. Peggy may have been a child when she first became a hunter but she was a full grown woman now. And well…she was quite beautiful and smart as fuck. Hob could maybe love her. It’d been almost fifteen years since Eleanor was taken by vampires herself, and the void she’d left behind had gotten easier and easier to bear with each person he saved. 

Hob sighs. What could it hurt? If things didn’t work out, he knows he and Peggy could still be friends. 

“Fine, but if I get more vamps than you, you’ve gotta ask out Rachel instead,” Hob says back. 

Johanna blushes a furious shade of red and Hob smiles. Now that was a relationship he was invested in seeing bloom.

“You got yourself a deal Hobsie,” she replies, and the two of them shake on it. 

—------------

Hob is at five vampire deaths when he starts chasing three fledgling vampires into the woods. They’re fast, but uncoordinated, and Hob thinks he can probably pick them off one by one if he times his shots right with the crossbow he borrowed from Johanna.

He realizes too late that the vampires have isolated him from the other hunters, and that he’s been led to a clearing to be ambushed. There had also been a fourth he hadn’t accounted for, and he curses at himself for falling for such an obvious trap so easily. He manages to take out one of the fledglings, but the remaining three overpower him. Just as they’re getting ready to tear into his flesh, Hob gets unexpected support in the form of a fucking were-panther.

Hob watches in awe as the beast knocks aside one of his assailants, freeing Hob from their hold and allowing him to stake one of the remaining vampires holding his arms. He then watches in awe as the panther tears into the throat of the fledgling it knocked aside, before the beast grabs the thing by the hair and yanks the head clean off. 

The final vampire is easily picked off between the two of them. Hob is surprised by how fluidly they work together, despite this being the first time he’s ever met the creature. When he is certain there are no others approaching, he turns to the panther, who is looking at him with curiosity and brilliant golden eyes. 

“Not that I’m not grateful for the assist, but what the fuck is a were-panther doing here?” Hob asks.

The air seems to vibrate for a few moments and Hob recognizes the tell-tale signs of a shift and moments later he’s face to face with a pale naked man with a shock of messy, jet black hair, and the most brilliant blue eyes he’s ever seen.

Fuck, but he was gorgeous and Hob’s type in every single way. Despite his shifter disposition, the man’s human form was void of any hair, and though he was thin and almost lanky, Hob could see the ripple of muscle in his legs and arms. Hob knew he was staring, but for some reason he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man. It was only when his hands landed on the man’s cock that he jerked his gaze upwards, and instead of disgust, he found the were-panther actually looked pleased at Hob’s obvious leering. 

“My name is Dream,” the were-panther introduces himself with a smirk.

“You certainly are,” Hob replies then slaps a hand over his mouth. “I mean—” 

God’s wounds, why had he said that? He was smoother than that! Had the vampire hunt really scrambled his brain that much? 

Before he can come up with an apology for his poor brain to mouth filter however, Hob hears a low, rumbling noise, and he belatedly realizes that Dream is purring.

“You are pleased with me,” Dream says, stepping closer into Hob’s personal space. “That is…good.” 

Hob suddenly smells his grandmother’s homemade bread and his favorite beer. He realizes quickly the delicious scent is coming from Dream, and before his brain can tell him otherwise, he pulls the pale man in a desperate, teeth clacking kiss.

Dream moans into his mouth and pushes Hob down into the grass in the clearing, grinding his hips down on Hob’s rapidly hardening cock. He growls and tugs angrily at Hob’s jeans, and Hob quickly works at shucking them off before the were-panther could tear them clean off. Now that would be embarrassing to explain to the rest of the hunters. 

It isn’t long before Hob’s completely naked underneath Dream and it feels absolutely amazing and right the way their bodies fit against one another. Dream’s cock is a pleasant weight against Hob’s own as he strokes them together, pleasure building higher and higher with each needy whine and moan shared between them. 

“That’s right, love,” Hob pants, increasing the speed of his strokes when he realizes he’s close. “I’m so close, I wanna come with you, come on—”

Dream wails as his orgasm hits him, and then there’s a sharp pain in Hob’s shoulder when his own orgasm follows shortly after. His brain blearily registers that Dream’s bitten down on him, and though there’s some part of him that knows he should be alarmed by that, his body is too blissed out from the earth shattering orgasm his just experienced to care.

“Mine,” Dream mumbles, licking at the new mark on Hob’s shoulder and snuggling into his chest. “My mate.” 

Ah, fuck, Hob thinks as he drifts off to sleep, wrapping his arms protectively around Dream. Johanna was absolutely going to skin him over this.

[effectivelyprocrastinating]

The Lies We Live - Chapter 5

Word Count: 2143

The Lies we Live Masterlist

A/N: Hey everyone, this story is much more of a slow burn then I thought it would be. I promise Nick and Joesphine's frist date is the next chapter and then thier reationship picks up. As always hope you enjoy!

Warning: This chapter was only proof read by me, sorry for all the typos.

Several days later, there was a knock on her door. She walked toward it cautiously, gun in hand. Even though, logically, she knew the Royals wouldn’t knock. She smiled when she saw Sean through the window. “Sean, is everything okay?”

He gave her a half smile, “Hey, little sis, everything is okay. I just wanted to see you.” He held up a bag. “I brought gifts. 

“Ooo, Chinese. Come in.” She smiled, pulling him into a quick hug. When he pulled away from her, she grabbed the bag and sat it on the counter. “Long day?” She asked.

He nodded as he took off his jacket and sat down. He stretched out his long legs and loosened his tie. “So, how have you been?” 

She grabbed plates and started to unbox the food. Her phone buzzed, but she didn’t pick it up. “I’m good. Work has been busy, but I don’t mind. How are you? Have you been busy?” 

“We are always busy.” He rolled up the slevels, allowing himself to relax. “There seems to be a lot of wesen-related crime lately.”

She stopped, glancing at her phone before she spoke, “Do you think it has anything to do with Nick finding out he is a Grimm?”

“Maybe, speaking of Nick, I heard a rumor that he asked you on a date?”

She looked down at the boxes, refusing to look him in the eyes. He couldn’t help but smile. “He did. How did you hear about that?” 

“He works in my precinct; there's not much I don't know. Did you say yes?”

“I did. Why?”

“Be careful, little sister. He is a Grimm. You know what will happen if he finds out what you are.” 

Her eyes sparkled pink as the plates of food settled perfectly on the table. “You told me that he is a good man and a good cop. Besides, we are just having a bit of fun. He has made it clear he doesn’t want a relationship.” The serious look in her eyes made him stop halfway to the table. That’s when he noticed the cup of soy sauce over his head. “Do not scare him off. He’s your detective, but this is my life, understand?”

“I know it’s your life. I’m not trying to control you, but I wouldn’t be a very good brother if I didn’t say anything. ” That’s when the container of sauce settled perfectly on the table. 

“I know you worry about me. You have taken care of me for so long you don’t know how to do anything else.” She smiled softly at him, the years of memories between them. “Nick is a Grimm, but he won’t hurt me. Plus, he knows how to protect himself. Do you realize how rare it is for me even to consider dating someone without fearing the royals coming after me through him? That I will get him killed. That they would use him to control me." She thought about her conversion with Eric. Fear shot up her spine. Having a Grimm on her side if he came for her again wouldn’t be a bad thing.  

He sighed, his shoulders dropping. “You don’t think I do the same calculation? She knew it was hard for him not to be close to anyone, as much as he acted as though it didn’t affect him. “Have you told him we are related?”

“No, but he knows we have some kind of relationship. Do you want me to tell him? 

“Well, our conversation in my office suddenly makes more sense.”

“What do you mean?” 

“He deserves his secrets, just like you do. Go on this date and have fun; just be careful. I have invested too much time in him just to throw it all away if he hurts you.” He paused as they sat at the table, “And I would. I would do anything for you.” 

She touched his arm, over the scar that he was so careful to keep hidden, “I know you would. I’m always careful, Big Brother. I remember what happened last time I wasn’t.” She put a hand to her stomach, a large burn scar cutting across her stomach and reaching to the end of her hip. They knew it was there, even though her shirt covered it. 

He held up his forearm, a scar matching hers on his arm. She swallowed hard. The night flashed in her mind. That fire had taken more than their home that night; it had taken their innocence. “I can’t lose you, Josephine.” That night, she finally understood how far the Royals were willing to go to come after her. The next day was the first time she had ever met her father. 

She smiled sadly at him and said, “You won’t, I promise, but I am not the same girl who ran to your room during a thunderstorm. 

“But I’m the same boy who would let you stay. I am the same brother who swore to Mother that I would always keep you safe.” He leaned back in his chair, tension clear in his shoulders. 

“Please just trust me.” She sounded tired, older. “I will keep myself safe.” 

His shoulders relaxed. “I do trust you.” 

She winked at him, “He’s just a bit of fun. I thought you would be more worried about me messing with your working relationship with him.” He knew she was teasing him, but it still got under his skin, as only her recklness could. “Since you want him on your side. 

“I’m not worried about that, considering he doesn’t know we are related.” He looked at her with the same teasing look.

When Nick woke up with a new message on his phone, his heart jumped, thinking of Josephine. It wasn’t her, it was the Captain. Come in early tomorrow; I want to talk to you, he groaned and rolled back over. He glanced at his clock, 5 a.m. He sighed, pushing himself up from the bed. Well, he might as well start his day.

The Captain wanted to talk about Joesphine. Nick reached the precinct at 7, and the Captain was already there, sipping coffee. Nick walked straight into his office. “You wanted to see me?” he asked as he pushed open the door. 

“Yes, Nick, thank you for coming in so early.”

“Is everything okay?”

The Captain nodded, but Nick saw a shift in his calm composure. “I wanted to talk to you about Joesphine. It is my understanding that the two of you have a date.

Nick sat in the chair across from his captain. “We do.” Nick’s stomach flipped at the mention of her name, the nerves suddenly hitting him full force. “We are. It’s just a date.” He tried to sound casual, but the Captain’s steady gaze made him self-conscious, his words suddenly feeling inadequate.

The Captain sat quietly for several seconds as if he was trying to decide how to continue. “She is important to me.” Nick nodded but didn’t say anything. “Don’t hurt her. She matters to me.” Something shifted in the room. He felt the the theart in everything that he wasn’t saying. 

Once and for all Nick had to know. Nick nodded. “Are you two dating?” 

The Captain chuckled, “No, nothing like that. But she is very important to me. I hate to see her get hurt.” 

Something shifted in the room. He felt the the thert in everything that he wasn’t saying. “She won’t. Is this your way of scaring me off.” 

The Captain leaned back in his chair as if a weight settled on his shoulders. “She and I have been through a lot together. I watched pertly of people come and go in her life. I’ve seen her take every broken pice of her and become something stronger.  I just want to make sure you don’t cause her any pain. I will never bring this up again. She would kill me if she knew we were having this conversation.” 

Nick couldn’t help the chuckle escaped his lips, “Yeah, she is a little scary.” 

The captain looked up, and an understanding passed between them, and he smiled. “Yes, she is.”

“Is that all, sir?” Nick asked as people started to file into the precinct.

“That’s all, Nick.” Nick walked towards his desk but pulled out his phone. He looked at the picture of Joesphine that she had sent him early in the week. It was a close of her face; she was sitting on her couch, smiling at him. He couldn’t help the smile that ghosted his face. He glanced back at the Captain’s office and his phone. He typed out a message and hit send on the message as he sat down. He knew he wanted to see where this would go. 

Josephine’s phone buzzed, breaking the silence in the office early Wednesday morning. “Looking forward to tonight. See you soon.” She smiles at the text. 

Dave noticed and commented, “Who’s that? And what did they say to make you smile like that?” 

“No one. I’m not smiling.”  She made her face go natural. 

“You most definitely are. Who is it? It’s not that tall stiff that’s been taking you to lunch, right? He doesn’t seem like your type.” 

“For your information, I have a date tonight with someone new.” 

He whistled, “Ms. I will never find Mr. Right has a date.” 

She rolled her eyes and turned back to her computer. “It’s a date, not a marriage proposal. 

“Not yet.” He winked at her.

Her phone buzzed again. “Do I get a peek at what you're wearing tonight?”

“No, you are going to be surprised. You didn’t give me any ideas, " she responded, putting her phone down and returning to work. 

“Whoever that is, please let me meet him, please. I want to know who is making you blush like a schoolgirl.” When she was purposefully ignoring him, Dave looked at her, then back to her phone, before returning to his work. 

By Wednesday afternoon, Nick couldn't sit still, fidgeting with the stack of papers on his desk. Hank raised an eyebrow, glancing up from his own work for the fifth time that hour. “What’s going on with you?” he probed, his curiosity evident.

“What do you mean?” Nick replied, trying to play it cool, though his eyes darted around the room.

“You’ve been staring at the same page for ten minutes,” Hank pointed out, tilting his head slightly. 

Nick turned the page with a flourish in a burst of nervous energy. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he insisted, but the uneven pitch of his voice betrayed him. 

Hank studied Nick’s face, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “You look like you’ve got your head in the clouds. Seriously, what’s going on?”

A hint of embarrassment crept across Nick’s features. “I may have a date tonight,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m a little nervous. I haven’t been on a first date in years, and I’m not sure I remember how to do this.”

A warm smile broke across Hank’s face. “Just be yourself. Who is it? The Captain’s friend?”

“Yes,” Nick replied, his heart racing at the thought, excitement and nerves racing through his veins. 

Hank glanced towards the Captain, who was engrossed in paperwork at his desk. “Does the Captain know?” he inquired, an eyebrow raised in playful suspicion.

“Yeah he knows, I don’t think  he is very happy about it. ” Nick replied, his mind racing with anxious thoughts about the evening ahead.

“Have you figured out what their relationship is yet? Hank asked as Nick’s phone buzzed again. Nick immediately picked up his phone.

“Do you want me cute or comfortable?” 

He responded without thinking, "I thought you were cute in the hospital, so if you can’t find an outfit that accomplishes both, you should feel comfortable." 

He regretted it momentarily, thinking he shouldn’t have mentioned the hospital, but then she responded, “You thought I was cute. Is that why you gave me your first name?”

“Yes,” 

“Bold of you, considering you thought your Captain was my boyfriend.”

“I hoped I was wrong. I would love to continue this conversation, but unfortunately, I do have some work to do. Talk tonight?” 

“Talk tonight.” She sent it with a winking emoji. 

Nick sat his phone down and looked up at Hank, “I’m sorry, you said something.” 

“You like her, like really like her.” Hank looked a little shocked. 

“We’ve spent most of the week talking, and I’m looking forward to tonight.” He tried to mask the emotions evident on his face. 

“So, what is the relationship between her and the Captain?” Hank leaned forward in his chair slightly. 

 Nick shrugged. “I'm not sure; she won't tell me explicitly.  I think they are just old friends.” 

Hank returned to his desk and said, “Good luck, partner. You're going to need it.” 

[dwindlinghaze]

hiii lovely congrats on 500 you deserve it and so much more!! i wanna request 🩰 dancing princesses for marauders bc i want to know who someone else would ship me with for once hahah

so my gender preference is male, i love reading (especially murder mysteries, historical fiction and romcoms), i love the mcu and i've watched pretty much all of marvel movies, most of them even twice, three or more times. i'm slightly socially awkward, but i have a close knit group of friends who i'm extremely extroverted around. i'm a math and economics girl, and i love history. i'm super delusional. i'm hindu. i absolutely love travelling, my favourite places i've been to being rome, london and dubai. i'm 5'4, closer to 5'5, i have kind of golden skin and a slightly chubby face. my love languages are terms of endearment, words of affection and physical touch.

thank you!! if you can do this, that would be great! if not, that's okay too don't put too much on your plate lovely<3

helloo 🫧🤍 thank you sm for participating in my 500 celebration

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

🩰 : i ship you with james potter

╰┈➤ i think james is into murder mysteries. once he played a game of solving a murder case with the marauders and asked you for help, knowing that you must be so much better than them in the field.

╰┈➤ he'd also ask you a million question after you've finished a novel of a murder case.

"wait wait- hold on, so the brother of the man was the one getting arrested because the other guy who is supposedly the man's friend framed him? for money?" he asked bewildered, pointing his fingers in every direction accusingly in the air. "well- not exactly," you laughed and shook your head. it was a task to tell him stories because he tend to pull conclusions way too fast. it's funny though.

╰┈➤ james didn't know anything about the mcu at first before you mentioned how big of a fan you are to him. you like to tell james about the background of each avengers but it was all too confusing for him, though he's invested after watching the avengers with you. you were showing him every marvel movie in its chronological order.

he never shuts up about the modern technologies in the film. "look at that! that's so cool if you ask me. the avengers tower is absolutely ahead of time, i mean- who would ever thought about making that!" he rambled. "i know right? i want to know what's your favourite character," you questioned him. "maybe pietro maximoff?" he shrugged. (jk i don't know which one he'd like but pietro it is because yes;))

╰┈➤ when he first saw you in the light of day? he's absolutely infatuated by how beautiful you were; your skin glows golden under the sunlight. he's all over you, words falling off of his lips about how beautiful you are with his arms firmly circled around your waist.

"have i mentioned how stunning you look?" he said in awe as he watched you doing basically nothing. "thank you," you thanked him with a smile and a small kiss. his arm dropped down to your level in order for him to place his warm hand over the small of your back, rubbing them gently.

╰┈➤ travelling with him during holiday breaks to all the places you want to visit !!

"pack your bags honey 'cause we're going to rome!" he announced on a normal thursday afternoon. you were just finishing up your last bit of work and was taken aback by his surprise. "since uh- when? i mean when?" your eyes widened in disbelief yet a glint of anticipation can't be unseen. "i know you're free next week so next week," he grinned. "i've already bought tickets and booked a hotel."

╰┈➤ once you're sure the relationship is serious and committed, you will introduce him to your close friends! james loves the positive energy together with how full of joy you were around your group of friends. it makes him extremely happy being surrounded with the people you love and love you.

╰┈➤ just imagine celebrating hindu festivals with him !! he would be in awe of every single thing.

╰┈➤ james' love language is definitely words of affirmation. he loves expressing his feelings by words. sometimes they're extremely cheesy and mortifying but at the end of the day, you both know that he means well and that it's all true.

[shadowwolflady]

Hawks Headcanons

Relationships

Alright, be prepared for broken hearts. Also, happy birthday to the baby boy!

Hawks in a Relationship

Hawks would like a relationship but is too busy to invest in one.

He would feel like he would be neglecting the other with his work and the commission. Even if that person were to work alongside him. So, eventually, he might settle down once he figures stuff out.

Hawks would rather keep his relationship under wraps.

Yes, it would be cute to go out on dates and PDA. But there would be a considerable target on the other’s back. Plus, he would constantly worry about them over others. For instance, if the person had a small quirk that couldn’t help them out of a paper bag with a flashlight and map, he would have to be on them or his sidekicks be on them constantly, monitoring them. Because they would be easy pickings for villains and the commission.

He wants someone whom he doesn’t have to worry about constantly.

Someone who is independent. A safety quirk would be a nice bonus or something that can get them out of trouble in a pinch like a teleportation quirk or barrier quirk.

Targets on the SO’s back. Need I say more?

The commission.

The commission wants to keep Hawks' public image of a bachelor and their star child. Having a significant other would dampen that image and make him less appealing. It also would make the SO a target when on missions. This would cause security to be stretched thin. Basically, more work. So, NO relationships.

If Hawks does have a relationship. The commission would know. They always know.

Keeping his relationship a secret is a hassle, but it is better than having people hounding him and his SO, including paparazzi.

Honestly, the fewer people poking their noses into his life the better. So, the fewer people that know about it the better.

The relationship would be known by a small close-knit group of people he can trust. Probably only counting on one hand how many know about them to keep secrets safe.

In a relationship

When in a relationship, he is a little clingy.

He loves doting on you.

Checking in, somewhat annoyingly. He will drop off food, and make sure you’re okay. You basically help get him motivated to live.

He looks forward to seeing you and checking in on you. It’s his new favorite job.

He loves listening to you. He would listen to you talk for hours.

Anything you find interesting he will research and look into it in order to understand it better.

He loves just being in your company.

You don’t need to talk. Sitting on the couch or having a cup of coffee is a perfect pastime. Even watching a movie or reading a book with each other is perfect.

He loves laying on the couch with his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. It lulls him to sleep. Hawks gets cuddly and clingy; he just flops on top of you on the couch and buries his head into your chest. He loves falling asleep on your chest, using your chest as a pillow. Your heartbeat also helps to relax him and allows him to fall asleep.

He has a special nickname for you outside of the usual bird ones.

This one is special for you because of either your quirk or what he fondly refers to you as and ONLY YOURS!

For those afraid of heights... Hawks won’t fly you anywhere unless you specifically ask. Especially for dates. He would rather walk through a park with you, hand and hand, watch the sunset, stare at the stars, or go to a bookstore.

For gifts, though he has a lot of money, he would rather get you meaningful small things like a scarf, mug, or sweater, something you would use in everyday life that would remind you of him. He may splurge and get you the next book in a series though. He is not above going for fancy things but prefers modest and useful.

Hawks would rather do quiet simple dates, like a coffee shop, a book store, hand and hand through the park, watching the stars, sunset, and sunrise, or going on patrols together. Sitting on the couch with takeout or pizza and watching a series or movie. All of these are perfect for him.

This vs fancy high-end dinners or parties. He doesn’t like to be in the limelight for long. He will tolerate it, but the chance he gets to escape he will make it. He would rather be on the down low.

What Hawks looks for in a partner

Loyalty is the biggest one, he needs to know his partner is faithful to him once they establish a relationship and that they aren’t going to cheat on him. This is different than before. Usually, he was open and did brief one-night stands, mostly with women. But once in a relationship, he is extremely loyal.

Respect is another. Respecting each other is huge. Both need to understand that each other is their own being and has their own agenda and life. They need to respect each other’s space and belongings and feelings.

Trust. Trusting each other. Mainly trusting each other with things and coming home. To trust with emotions and hearts. To trust them to not go blabbing to others about vulnerable situations. Trusting each other to do the right thing. To have each other’s backs.

Independence. He doesn’t want someone who is constantly relying on him to be home every night at 5 pm for dinner. He wants someone who is flexible and 100% confident in themselves to know it is his job that is keeping him away and not other things.

Flexibility. They need to be all right with him not coming home on time or waking them up in the middle of the night. Or not coming home at all.

Attitude. Not a bratty attitude, but enough to be able to say NO to him. There are too many YES people in his life. And too many people throw themselves at him and he doesn’t necessarily like that. He wants someone with an opinion.

A challenge. He loves puzzles. He wants to figure his partner out and explore with them. So being a bit of a mystery is fun for him.

Understanding. They need to understand and know his background if he ever divulges it. They need to understand that the commission raised him to be hypervigilant and to constantly question motives.

Patience. Patience is huge. Sometimes he can’t say things as much as he wishes he could. Sometimes he comes home ragged from missions and just needs to decompress. He needs to just sit and exist. Sitting by his side is more than enough.

He wants someone with a bit of a brain on them. They don’t need to be Einstein, but have some common sense and smarts.

Mental fortitude helps as well. They need to be able to handle the stress and psychological impact of his job. They also need to know that he shuts down sometimes and needs to recharge. He can get irritable during these times. He needs them to know he doesn’t mean to snap at them when it happens, it’s his frustration and tiredness acting out.

For women, on your period? He will get you your things! He remembers reading about menstrual cycles, but never really paid any attention to them until meeting you. He now knows what you like and don’t like during this time. He knows tips and tricks to help relieve cramps. Accidentally stain something? No problem! He will help you change sheets or clothes.

Yes, he is a good boyfriend. Besides him bringing home fast food almost every other night and forgetting things. He's a good egg. I think I'll keep him.

Also, may shamelessly plug my fanfic in here of my OC....

[soulscrying]

xiao - character study #1:

trauma reposted from old blog

I. THE SIGHT OF BLOOD IS A COMFORT.

It leaks onto the ground from — he isn’t sure where, exactly, other than it’s from him, from his broken body, his battered body. Everything aches. Everything bleeds. He is skin and bones and blood.

His eyes squint at the pool of blood he’s been stewing in. The color is dark, almost black. But he knows it’s blood — recognizes it even when he can’t recall his name.

He remembers that Teyvat is vastly unexplored still. That much is apparent as he marvels at the untrimmed grass, the silence that hangs limp in the air. Consider a landscape painting — unblemished, untainted by humanity. It’s as if he had been rendered into one as an afterthought, or perhaps as a mistake.

He remembers that there currently exists three major nations — one of contracts, one of freedom, one of eternity. The boundaries are roughly definable. They’re further classified by element — geo, anemo, and electro respectively. Relations amongst them all are civil. Somewhat.

He remembers that density and altitude have an inverse relationship. The atmosphere thins — falters — the higher up you are, barely held together by gravity and its whims. He remembers the sensation of soaring, then of falling, even when he has yet to take flight. He remembers the connection, the way he felt bound to them, but he can’t remember his name, can’t remember where he’s from, can’t remember what he’s done to deserve lying on the ground he suddenly hated, bleeding.

II. SIX HUNDRED YEARS LATER, AND HIS HANDS ARE STILL BLOOD STAINED.

At first, he washes them almost obsessively. But whenever he looks down, he sees the blood under his nails, sees drops crusted on his fingers. No matter how hard he scrubs, the blood stays, the blood stays.

He invests in a pair of gloves — handmakes them, actually. They’re dark and sensible, and they do not reek of blood. And while he’s a creature of habit, he is also a fast learner … he’s careful never to go about his day without them on. In combat, in between snacks, in the midst of his meditation regimen, he tugs at the cuffs so that they cover his lower arms.

III. THERE ALWAYS SEEMED TO BE A WOMAN LOITERING AT THE ENTRANCE OF WANGSHU INN.

Hair in an updo, bold eye makeup. A mile-long black dress, a nice one, an expensive one. He tells himself, she’s probably the companion of someone who lives here. He tells himself, this has nothing to do with me. He tells himself, stop looking.

But the woman in the black dress is familiar in all the ways he knows she shouldn’t be. The woman in the black dress is familiar in all the ways he can’t put a name to, not yet.

He prays they never meet, or at least not in her lifetime.

IV. “I HAVE REASON TO BELIEVE THAT THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME — WITH MY BRAIN.”

Zhongli stares at him. His eyes are large, dark. There are no bags under them, not like a human’s. Xiao's memories are hazy but he attests to bags weighing most of their eyes down like ink.

Wanmin Restaurant hums with quiet conversation. He clutches the roll of bread in his hand a little too tightly. It crumples into bits on his plate.

“I can … I can only remember some things,” he continues. “And even those things leave much to be desired.” He stares down at his ungloved hands — at the red skin around his nails, the blood he swears is still there. “May I ask you to heal me?” His gaze then shoots up, half hopeful.

“It is beyond my power to fix memories, especially in this body.” Zhongli retrieves his cup of osmanthus tea, the steam curling in the air. He dips his head to take a sip, eyes never leaving his. “Of course, I can check if there are any lingering injuries from…what happened to you. I can also pay the pharmacy a visit to see if there is any remedy there worth trying.” He pauses, perhaps for a beat too long. “But unfortunately, I don’t think it will amount to much. It’s most likely trauma.”

“Trauma affects the brain. If you heal my brain, you fix the trauma … right?”

Whatever hope had gleaned his eyes disappeared when Zhongli hesitated a second time. This time he doesn’t look up from his hands, not wishing to check if there is any change to the archon’s expression. Pity from him would be worse than any lasting brain damage.

V. THE WOMAN IN THE BLACK DRESS WAVES HIM OVER TODAY.

He has to wonder how she’s able to see him from his rooftop perch, let alone acknowledge him. Bile rises in his throat as he descends onto the balcony below him. He balls both of his hands, fingers clenching a fistful of his gloves.

As he’s drawing away from the balcony, he sees her again … only closer this time.

Now, the woman is within earshot. Within reach.

His stomach drops. His throat dries.

Yet his fingers burn with an urgency. While he is unmoving, they are scheming and simmering — bent on shedding that damned fabric he’d clung onto like a lifeline.

The smile on her face does little to coax the twitch in his fingers. He blinks his eyes closed for one second, two seconds … his nails dig into the palms of his hands. At six seconds, he can feel a growing sharpness graze his skin.

With bated breath, he forces his eyes back open.

He looks up.

The woman in the black dress is gone.

He looks back down.

There, in the palm of his hand — a rip spanning the fabric of his glove.

There, pooling at the rip and marring the exposed skin — a ripe red, a free flowing red,

An unnerving, uncomfortable sight.

[sabineelectricheart]

Secret Relationship Blown

Summary: Chad does not want for people to know he is dating someone, but when a guy makes a move on Barbara, he has other concerns.

Rating: T - Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 1100

Notes: I think Chad would admire intelligent people. Not stuffy academics or nerds, but that kind of understated cleverness that is shown in polite conversation, that sort of understanding of the world.

It is finally springtime in Sugardale.

The end of the school year swung in with the looming promise of well-deserved vacations and great change to come, as it always did. Some would graduate and leave, some would become the new leaders of the clubs and fraternities, and there would come another batch of pledges. It is hard to escape the whole sentimentality of the season.

According to most of the student body, and a few sections of the faculty, this is the perfect time to throw a party, and the Investments Club is not one to stay behind with such matters. They set up a rave in their large club house, inviting every member and their roommates and girlfriends, and eventually what seemed the entire population of the town showed up. Word spread like wildfire when it came to a blow out of theirs, as it is guaranteed to be the hottest place to be in any given night.

Chad scanned the room for you, not worried about being obvious, as there is little point to hide anything. Bryce was with Trish, and they were wrapped around their usual drama, having April hanging around, senselessly trying to referee the petty dispute, his football teammates and fellow Investment Club associates are scattered around, too busy with either hoping to bag a new conquest or get some old one to put out, and everyone else was too drunk with the better quality of alcohol they were offering for the occasion.

Then his eyes found her, Barbara Hylton, his date for the night, and he realised that they could not leave anymore. She still is the most beautiful, intelligent and awe-inspiring person he had ever seen, even if he keeps it to himself to save face. His jaw still dropped at the sight of her after the best part of seven months, and he does not think it will stop any time soon.

It took every single ounce of energy from every bone in his large body to not walk up to her and shower her with the millions of compliments springing to his mind, some not as wholesome and civil as others. Alas, he could not, and that is mostly on him.

He had suggested that they kept their little dalliance, as she puts it, between them, as not to make a big deal of it, because, as ashamed as he may be for admitting it, he does not want people to know that he is dating anyone, least of all someone like her.

Though, much to his own chagrin, she promptly agreed to his suggestion. She is a scholarship student, after all, and she is in the club which he manages, a club which is very exclusive, catered to legacy members, and with a selective membership process she has not found herself subjected through. It could be assumed that he had something to do with it, and that may lead to circumstances which threaten the continuity of her student support.

Chad was readying himself to keep control and greet Barbara regularly, like a proper vice-president would to one of its female members. He is often reminded of his etiquette whenever he interacts with her, as he gets nervous and acts ceremoniously to avoid suspicion or back-talking.

It was when his eye caught some student that he does not recognize approaching her for a conversation. He decided to wait until they were done talking to go and greet her for the first time that evening.

The drink he was holding almost spilled in his grip when Chad realised that the little bastard was not just talking to his girlfriend, he was touching her, too. Not a friendly shoulder nudge, not a drunken knock, not a brotherly poke. No, the guy was attempting to slip an arm around her shoulder, trying to make her laugh and lean into him.

He cracks his knuckles. Someone is going to be sporting a black eye tomorrow morning.

The burly man focuses his attention on Barbara, to see whether she is welcoming the guy’s advances or rejecting him, to see how much force he is putting in his first punch. He notes, with satisfaction, that she is not responding to the pathetic advance. Instead, she stood stiffly, gripping her drink as tight as he was gripping his.

She gave the drunk guy a restrained smile, eyes searching the room. She swept her gaze across the crowd, desperately trying to locate Chad as she shifted away from her interlocutor. The lipstick, carefully selected and applied to match her outfit, was starting to stretch with the polite expression she forced.

She did not want to upset the man too much. Firstly, because one can never know what men will do in these situations, but also because he has not treated her with any disrespect. There was nothing wrong with him, aside from the ebriety, but she simply is not interested in anyone else.

"Look, I’m sorry, but I, erm, I'm seeing someone at the moment." The woman said, trying to extricate herself out of the situation.

Barbara craned her neck to the right and locked stares with Chad, silently pleading for him to come over.

The drunk man chuckled. "And he left you all alone at this party? That’s very shitty of him. Don't you want to dance with someone?"

She laughed awkwardly, relieved to see her date appear in front of them.

"I didn't leave her alone. Off you go." Chad threatens, baring his teeth.

The guy spluttered, surprised at the sudden appearance of the tall and strong football captain. "Chad! I-I didn’t…! Sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn't…"

Chad smirked, looping his own arm around Barbara as the other man promptly removed his. He does not reply to the stammering, leading her away instead as she leaned into his side.

"Thanks, C. You saved me out there. Where we going now?" She asks, as they go out the door.

"Just out for a breather." He responded, both curt and airily.

As it turned out, the so-called breather was at his bedroom in the frat house and it did not involve breathing so much as fast paced making out.

The hot and savage kissing left her lips tingling and parted with the gloss smeared on the side. With a giggle, she realised there was a shiny pink tinge to her boyfriend’s ones as well.

Chad smiled down at the woman, whom he locks underneath him with his strong arms. "Do you think that we blew our cover?"

Barbara laughed breathlessly. "Yeah, we probably did."

“Good.” He responded hoarsely.

*_*_*_*_*

College Craze Masterlist

[rxmanhxl2]

"You're not falling apart you're dealing with an extremely stressful situation, on top of the fifty other stressful situations you have, as well as a death of someone you cared about." Jolie let out a deep sigh as she reorganised her thoughts, she should have known he'd have the audacity to ask her something so major only to start backtracking after he got the response he was looking for in the first place.

She mulled over her reply knowing he needed to hear something real from her. Something he could understand even if he didn't like it. "I hate dating." Jolie said firmly because it was true and it didn't exactly play an insignificant part of her decision making. "I always feel like I'm just wasting time, I'm never invested enough. You're high maintenance to deal with but it's the kind I can handle easily enough and I know I'm high maintenance too but you've never been upset about that. At least from what I can tell." If he couldn't handle her honesty then that wasn't her fault.

"I answer the phone whenever you call Nik, you're already essentially the third person in whatever relationship I'm in, and I've never been particularly interested in polyamory." There was probably one too many times that she'd climbed out of bed in the middle of the night leaving whatever boyfriend alone and cold to go to his side. She'd never been in love before, not really not in the way people tended to dream about. Sure there were moments of middle school naïveté, or high school passion. But they didn't matter really. They weren't anything that would make her look back on and swoon or smile. Jolie couldn't help but wonder if she was the problem sometimes. It could just be having grown up in the gang her heart was always more in that, she got her emotional fulfilment through her friends and sexual fulfilment through whoever she was seeing at the moment. There was probably such a thing as being too practical or maybe she was just too loyal for her own good.

"So we give them a story. We had a passionate one night stand and I was so good in bed you had no choice but to beg me to marry you." Jolie joked heading over to her purse that she'd dropped onto one of the chairs when she'd first come in. "Or we tell them the truth or nothing at all because it isn't really their business why exactly it's happening. Let them decide why and ignore it." She said with a shrug her attention still focused on her bag.

"You're not asking me for a lot." Jolie corrected finally grabbing some painkillers. Moving over to his side she took one of his hands and placed the pills there. "You're asking me for my entire life Nik. I do actually take that seriously." Because that's what this was, there was no coming back from this sort of agreement. Divorce or a separation, both would undermine what they were trying to do in the first place. Leaning against the desk next to him she crossed her arms, Jo wasn't quite sure if he'd be a fan of her next demand. But this was a negotiation.

"But you're right, I do want something real. That's one of my three conditions. If I do this then I want a real marriage, a real partnership all of it. I won't just be your business partner that you share a bed with. I know you love me and I love you too. Maybe not the way people who are marrying usually are, but if I'm giving you my whole life then I need to know if you can you give me yours. If you don't want to deal with the mess of me falling for someone then don't give me a reason to, I don't think it's particularly unreasonable that we could manage a real relationship."

Nicholas Sterling was tired. The sort of tired that couldn’t be explained by sleeplessness or late hours, but a bone-deep weariness that had a way of creeping up on him from time to time, whenever he felt as if he were a bowstring drawn too tight, ready to snap. Now he leaned against the massive redwood desk he’d kept in the office out of respect for the old man, massaging his temples in an attempt to drive away the mounting headache.

“This is just the kind of rational, eloquent speech every man wishes to hear upon proposing marriage,” he said dryly, a ghost of humor threading through the rasp of exhaustion in his voice. Then again, his proposal hadn’t exactly been the kind women dreamed of either. Less an expression of devotion, more a business arrangement. Which, in truth, it was. Nik had long abandoned the romantic ideals, left them behind along with his youth and Selena, bloodied and slack in his arms, as she always was in his memory these days. To marry would be to drag another innocent soul into this, and the thought nauseated him.

But Jolie wasn’t innocent or helpless.

His hand fell away from his temple as he turned, catching her reflection in the mirror. “As much as I’m flattered by the decisiveness — are you sure?” He’d already gone over every angle, turned the idea inside out, and still couldn’t figure out what Jolie stood to gain. She didn’t need the position. She would remain his most trusted adviser regardless. She wasn’t damaged in the ways he was—wasn’t rigid and distant and incapable of anything beyond an occasional, meaningless fling. She still had a chance at a normal life. “You’re sure you don’t want something… real? Organic — whatever.” He gestured vaguely, irritation flashing across his features as he failed to find the right word. “I’m asking for a lot. You could at least think about it. Say, in a year you come across someone you actually want to be with — dealing with that would be a mess.”

At the mention of James, Nik let out a low groan and tipped his head back, closing his eyes against the fresh wave of pain clawing at his skull. The headache was suddenly tiptoeing dangerously into full-blown migraine territory. “Jolie, I do so much as breathe in his direction and his ego somehow finds a way to be bruised by it. It’s not a very sturdy construction, despite its size.” It had gotten worse since they broke up, and Nik was fairly certain James had, at least partially, decided to blame him for it. The late nights. The endless phone calls. Jolie’s unwavering loyalty to Nik. There was nothing between them—nothing in the way James seemed to believe—but there was no doubt their plans would ruffle some feathers. “I’d say it’d look suspicious, considering anyone with a working brainstem can see we’re not together. And we’d be going from nothing to engaged essentially overnight.”

He’d woken up with a low, simmering pain in his bad knee, but this late in the day that low simmer had turned incessant, and he felt the joint buckle slightly under his weight as he pushed himself off the desk to step around it. A hiss of frustration slipped through his teeth.“Shit. I’m fucking falling apart.” Jaw clenched, he let his body collapse into the chair. With his head tipped back against the backrest, he cast Jolie a slantwise look. “You’ve always been more concerned with how things will affect me than him — we can’t entirely fault him if he loses his shit.” A slow, sinuous smile tugged at his lips as he arched a brow. “Maybe that’s a good thing. If he overreacts, he’ll be shooting himself in the foot. Think about it. Nothing says good, stable leader quite like having a jealous hissy fit.”

[thespunkyknight]

welp