#whenever people are like ''my hair has been so dry ever since i dyed it no matter what i do'' im liek...bestie...try a protein mask

[spaciebabie]

if you must use a protein mask/rice water for your hair i recommend using it in combination with a deep conditioner ESPECIALLY if your hair is prone 2 dryness or damaged from heat or coloring

[rendevousz]

mum?

mother figure!nat x fem!teen!reader

avengers x reader

req by @teenwonder ; i absolutely love the entire teams adoration for reader skfksngnsf its so cute! could i please request one a little more nat based? maybe r treats and loves nat like a mom but nat hadn’t noticed that before, and the whole team is like listing examples of how and why 🥺🥺🥺

summary: the four times you needed nat and the one time she admits that she needed you too.

warnings: blood, a random attack out of nowhere because i'm not creative, inaccurate writing of medical situations because i have no idea how those things work, also let's just pretend bruce was around during iron man 2 when tony still had palladium in his arc reactor, also inaccurate descriptions of palladium effects bcs i just...don't know much about palladium pls forgive me thanks, and idk any hospitals in new york/manhattan or even the states LMAO so uh bear with this, and last but not least, my inability to write good endings

word count: 5426

notes: that's a long ass warning nevertheless pls do enjoy this fic <3

"i'm going now, bye!" you bid the team who were having breakfast together, walking out of the common area.

"bye, cupcake! don't get into trouble, don't do what i'd do and definitely don't do what i wouldn't do." tony advised and you rolled your eyes because tony says that to you every morning before you leave for school.

"wait, don't forget your lunch!" nat stands up from her seat and grabs your lunch that she had packed, from the kitchen island, bringing it over to you. "thanks, nat!" you grabbed it, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before leaving.

nat smiles at the action, turning around to walk back to her spot on the table, only to find the team staring back at her with knowing looks.

"what?"

"you know, you only need to sign a couple papers and the kid's all yours." tony states matter-of-factly. nat snaps her head towards the man, an incredulous look on her face. "what are you talking about?"

"we all see the longing looks on both your faces. she's dying for you to call her your daughter and you, her mother." clint explains and the others nodded in agreement.

"that's nonsense. she has wanda too," nat reasons, sitting back down. "i'm pretty sure she sees wanda as a sister considering how much she drags wanda with her whenever she's causing trouble around the tower." steve raises his brows at the redhead who was in denial.

"she sees you as her mother, nat. just accept it," wanda tells her, taking a sip from her glass. "really? name me one time she showed it." nat challenges them, not knowing that they've been watching your interactions with her for the longest time.

"you have no idea what you just got yourself into, romanoff," clint chuckles, cracking his neck and knuckles as if preparing for a fight.

"remember new mexico?" he smirks and nat only frowns, trying to remember.

i.

"no!" you screamed, dropping down to the ground. you didn't care that you scraped your knees doing that, the only thing that mattered was the overwhelming feeling of grief engulfing your whole being. tears streamed down your face as you looked at the debris on the ground, the remainder of what used to be standing in front of you; a building. blown up, now in ruins.

clint, bucky and steve watched you break down in front of them, their hearts breaking at the sight in front of them as well as the fact that their teammate had been caught up in the middle of the explosion.

"y/n/n? come on, tony's team called for back up. we gotta go," steve tried to get you to stand up, failing when you kept your ground. you screamed when he tried again and their hearts clenched at the heartbreaking sound.

"we can't just leave her! please, we have to find her," you cried, clinging onto steve's body as he ran his hand up and down your suit-cladded back to soothe you. "y/n/n, we can't. the whole place is in ruins now," he didn't want to say it but he had to. he had to in order to get you to leave. "she's gone."

"she can't be gone! she can't just leave us! we need her! i need her, stevie.." you cried into his chest and he had to control himself so he didn't cry right then and there too.

he looked up to see bucky looking at the two of you guiltily, tapping his wrist to indicate that they were running out of time. steve had no choice but to carry you in his arms, getting you to leave the site against your will. but you were too weak to fight back now. "what am i gonna do without her now, stevie?" you asked quietly.

"we're gonna be okay, y/n/n," he tells you, sitting you down on a chair and settling down next to you as clint flew the jet to your next location. the atmosphere was tense and you could tell everyone, too, was sad about this.

"what if we're not? what if we're not gonna be okay, stevie? i know i won't be." you wiped the tears streaming down your face despite the fact that your face still wasn't drying up any time soon.

"because nat wouldn't want to see us like this. she'll be angry if she sees that we're risking people's lives just because of her." he says truthfully.

"we're landing, guys." clint announces and the team prepared for another round of fighting. steve turns to you, wiping the tears on your face as he made you look up at him. "now let's save some people and make nat proud, yeah?"

you nod at him sadly, preparing your weapons. all of you got out the jet and the second battle of the day begun. boy, were these people unlucky because they were on the receiving end of your fury.

you were busy taking down a group of guards alone when you heard a familiar voice. "y/n, behind you!" and you turned just in time to take down a guard who was aiming at you.

you didn't even have time to register your shock of seeing the redhead because more guards came at you two. you guys fought alongside each other until all the men were taken down.

"nat?" you breathed out. "yes, bub?" she answers as you both carefully walked over the knocked out men. she was taken aback when you slammed into her, hugging her the tightest you ever did since you met her.

"please don't ever do that again." you mumbled into her chest. she was about to ask you what you meant when she heard you sniffling. figuring out it wasn't the appropriate moment to ask, she continued to just hug and comfort you in silence.

"wait, that was why she cried that day? because she thought i was in that building when it blew up?" nat asks after steve finished the story. "i never found out why because she never told me."

"yeah, you should've seen her when the building exploded. completely shattered my heart, dude." clint states, remembering the broken down state you were in that day.

"wait, did you guys not grief over my supposed death then?" nat glares at clint, bucky and steve. "in our defense, they were about to blow up about a hundred people, we didn't have much time to process the whole situation." clint tries to convince his best friend, only to receive a glare again from her.

"alright but just because she cried when she thought i was dead, doesn't mean she sees me as her mum. i'd cry too if any one of you guys died," she states, still in denial.

she did love you like how a mother would love her child. but she didn't want you to feel that she was forcing the title onto you. after all, you had so many other adults around you, who's to say that you saw someone else as a parent figure instead of her? she didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

"woman, are you serious?" sam exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air dramatically. "need i remind you that the girl sacrificed her life for you?"

ii.

"nat, watch out!" you stood right behind her where the man was about to attack her. you gave him a harsh kick to the head and that was all it took for the man to go unconscious.

the redhead turned around, not having enough time to comprehend what had happened before you dropped into her arms. you two were lucky the last of the men had already been taken out.

"bub? what's wrong?"

at this point, you were fully leaning against her. she was holding up your whole weight, hands wrapped around your middle to support you. that was when she felt it. the familiar thick substance on her fingers, leaking from the back of your suit.

her eyes widened, pulling one hand away from you to look at it. red. her breathing picked up as one of her hands felt around your back, finally feeling the handle of a knife sticking out from your back.

your eyes were already drooping by now and she lightly shook you awake, careful to not hurt you. she lowered you down and you were both sat on the floor now.

she presses a finger to her ear and you could hear her voice echo in your ear from your own comms. "can someone come please," she paused, exhaling shakily. "y/n's down."

if it had been any other person, she probably would be bringing them to the jet by now but it was you. she didn't know what came over her but when she saw that you were injured, it was like her whole body shut down. her knees felt weak and she couldn't bring herself to move.

"hey, hey, keep your eyes open. can you do that?" she asked gently and you nodded weakly. "bub, why did you do that?" she cried softly, moving your hair away from your face as you leaned sideways against her. the action caused your face to be smudged by your own blood from her hands but she didn't care as she caressed your cheek.

"he–he was gonna hurt you. i–i couldn't..." you paused a while, the pain getting too much for you to bear. "y/n, don't strain yourself. you need to stay awake," she tells you as tears streamed down her face.

"rather me than you," you whispered. nat's eyes widened at this. "don't say that, bub." she scolds gently.

you smiled weakly at her. "i've grown too dependent on you, nat. it's to the point that i," you coughed and nat worried that you were straining yourself but you continued. "that i'd rather die than live without you. you probably can go on with life without me but i can't without you. i need you, nat." your eyes closed and nat panics, shaking your body.

"y/n?! bub?! stay awake, please, they're coming!" nat cries out loud, holding onto your limp body.

"did we not agree to not mention that to me anymore?" nat glares at sam for bringing that up.

the night of that incident had been one of the worst nights for nat. she sat by your bed all night after you had been treated. she had been the first one you saw after you woke up. she had been the one you broke down in front of after you admitted the full reasoning behind your actions. she had been the one who opened her arms for you to make yourself at home in.

"i'm sorry but you must be blind if you can't see how really she sees you for the past years," bucky states. nat turns to him with a glare. "you don't know what you're talking about."

"oh really? who does she call whenever she has a really bad nightmare?" bucky questions rhetorically with his eyebrows raised.

iii.

"no, please, don't!" you begged, asleep and thrashing around in your bed. quiet whimpers turned into heavy breathing as you plead for your life in your nightmare. "please," you whispered, inhaling and exhaling harshly.

FRIDAY, noticing the amount of distress you were in, alerted the closest person to your room, that being bucky who was returning from a late night trip to the kitchen for some water.

he quickly went into your room, only to see you shivering and thrashing around in your bed. "doll?" he approaches slowly, finding you still asleep, though sweating a lot. nightmare, he realised.

"doll? wake up," he gently shakes you and you immediately jolt awake, breathing heavily as you register what was going on. "it's okay, it was just a nightmare," he soothes you, holding you close as one hand rubbed up and down your back while the other held your head to his chest.

none of that helped as you were still in the same state as you were when you woke up. "are you okay?" he asks, worried. "nat... i need nat.. please i need her," you whimpered, shaking in his hold. you were having trouble breathing.

"FRIDAY, get romanoff."

within minutes, nat arrived, looking panicked and disheveled like she had just woken up, which she just did. "what's wrong?" she asks bucky, approaching you two.

"she was having a nightmare and woke up and i think she's having a panic attack. she asked for you," he informs her and immediately moves away when she approaches, so that she could take his place.

"bub? it's me," you look up to meet natasha's pretty green eyes. "you're okay, bub. can you tell me five thing you can see?"

you looked away from her eyes, looking around your room. "i–i see my book on my nightstand, my lamp, my jacket on the chair, my laptop and the painting on the wall." you told her after some difficulties.

"good, that's good. four things you can feel?"

"i feel the socks on my feet, my fluffy blanket, the pillow i'm leaning on and your hands around me."

she smiles softly at you. "three things you can hear?"

"i hear your voice. a–and the faint noise from the ac and i can also hear bucky's breathing." you look up at the man and he smiles sheepishly at you, standing around awkwardly. you gave him a small smile back.

"two things you can smell?"

"i can smell my own shampoo..and my room's air freshener." you told her more calmly now, feeling the panic attack already going away.

"one thing you want to taste?"

"i wanna taste wanda's blueberry pancakes." you pout and the two adults couldn't help but chuckle. "you can have them in the morning. right now you need to sleep so you can have the energy to devour them tomorrow, okay?" you nod at the woman as she tucks you in.

not long after, you fell asleep. she then presses a kiss to your forehead before leaving with a less worried bucky now. and sure enough, the next morning, wanda made you blueberry pancakes.

"okay, so what? we all need someone to help us through panic attacks?" nat rolls her eyes. "did you miss the part where i came in and tried to help but she specifically asked for you? she needed you, nat."

"guys, i... i love her with my whole heart but she has all of us. i don't wanna make her feel like she's restricted to only one of us. you all love her too," nat reasons.

"yes but she doesn't have anyone to call her mum and frankly, i think you'd be perfect for it." wanda encourages the older woman.

"i—" before she could continue, her phone rang loudly and she thanked whoever it was that called her because now she didn't have to make up excuses about her doubt of becoming your official mother.

iv.

she looks down at the caller id, sighing when it was you, meaning the team had more against her now. of course she didn't mind you calling her, you could call her when she'd be asleep after a mission and she'd still pick up with a smile on her face. but it was the fact that the whole team could see how she softened when she realised it was you who called that bothered her. she really didn't want them to let her have hopes that you'd accept her as your mother.

"bub?" she said into the phone and half the team smirked at her while the other half gave her knowing smiles. "aren't you supposed to be on your way to school?"

"yeah but uh are you busy right now? i um, i need you."

nat immediately stands up, worry etched onto her face and the team frowned at this. "what happened? are you okay?"

"you know how i told happy i wanted to walk to school today? yeah, i just remembered why i don't walk to school anymore."

"what do you mean? what happened? are you hurt? did someone hurt you?" she bombards you with questions out of worry. at this point, the team had also stopped their chatter and teasing looks, equally worried for your well-being.

"yeah, i am. wait, maybe not. i mean, i was just being dramatic but uh, i tripped on who-knows-what and now i have a sprained ankle. i can't walk now so i'm standing in an alley right now so i'm not in the way of people. can you come get me?"

nat sighs in relief, thankful that it wasn't anything that she was thinking of. "you are unbelievable, y/n." she chuckles in disbelief at your clumsiness. "can you tell me where you are? i'll come get you now. i'll have the school know you're not coming today." you told her your location and she immediately leaves after telling the team what happened to you.

you were expecting nat to call again, to tell you she was around the corner but instead you heard a whoosh of air beside your head, followed by a crack sound. your head followed the sound, eyes widening when you saw that a dart had struck the wall beside your head. you looked ahead, trying to see where that came from.

if it hadn't been for your fast reflexes being an avenger for the past few years, you probably wouldn't have ducked in time when another dart came flying right for your head. "what the hell?" you grunted, staying low but still looking around for the source. you squinted when you looked up, the sun blazing but you managed to catch a glimpse of a man on a rooftop nearby. he had blonde hair and was dressed in all black, donning a same coloured mask that covered the bottom half of his face.

"you had one job! how could you miss her twice?!" the blonde hears his colleague hiss in his ear through the earpiece. "i'm sorry! i'm no hawkeye, how was i supposed to get her in one try?!" he scolds back.

"you didn't even get her in two!"

"shut up and just let me work! you're distracting me!"

"hurry because i see the redheaded one nearing the alley. boss'll kill us if he finds out we didn't get her in her vulnerable state."

"i'm trying, i'm trying!" the blonde closes one eye, his sight now locked on your crouched state. he saw you move once you saw him and he cursed under his breath, his weapon following your movements. "she's moving!"

"just take the shot and be done with it! you have to go now!"

and shoot he did. after he shot the dart gun, he immediately fled but it wasn't like you were going to be able to chase him down or anything. a scream left your lips as a dart pierced through your skin, right under your shoulder.

you dropped down to the ground, right in the middle of the alleyway. you cried when you felt the burn in your flesh. you had been stabbed multiple times before with much bigger objects so why did this feel different?

"y/n?! is that you?!" you heard nat's voice yell from a small distance away. "i'm here," you croaked out, feeling your body grow weaker at an alarming rate.

"oh my god, bub, why are you on the ground? it's dirty, c'mon let's get you up. which foot did you sprain?" she places both her hands under your arms, pulling you up on your feet before accidentally dropping you back when you let out a shriek, crying out in pain.

"oh my god, did i hit your ankle? are you okay?" nat assumed that your tear-stained face was because of your sprained ankle but then you wheezed, your eyes drooping the longer she stood there.

your right hand slowly reached across your left shoulder, the butt of the dart sticking out of your skin now in between your shaking fingers. nat's eyes followed your hand movement's, a gasp leaving her lips.

"y/n, what happened?!" she panicked but before she could even get an answer from you, you had already blacked out. her eyes widened, knowing it was the dart because why else would you pass out that quick from a simple penetration in the shoulder. you had dealt with much worse than that and she knew your tolerance level.

she took off your bag, careful to not move the dart. she then placed her hands under your knees and behind your back, easily picking your unconscious body up and rushing back to the tower.

when she arrived, she was met with many confused yet concerned looks from the tower staff, seeing the black widow, rushing in with the youngest avenger unconscious in her arms. they had seen you leave the tower for school about half an hour ago so they knew something must've happened on the way.

"get bruce in the hospital wing. tell him it's urgent." she tells the woman working the front desk, hurrying into the elevator and telling FRIDAY to get her to the floor she so desperately wanted to arrive at quicker. black lines appeared on the left side of your neck, slowly spreading to the right side and she assumed it was from that damned dart in your left shoulder.

"natasha! what's wrong? they said it was an emergency," the doctor spoke in a panicked voice when nat entered, immediately going quiet when he saw you in her arms, neck lined with seemingly black veins.

nat laid you down on the surgery table, frown growing when black lines steadily spread to your arms now. though she was too worried to think, she managed to at least tell bruce what was outwardly wrong with you.

"dart. left shoulder." she blurted, incapable of forming proper sentences now that she had seen more of you. the black lining your skin got her speechless and anxious. bruce got ready with medical gloves, removing the dart from your flesh before analysing the pattern of your skin. it looked familiar.

"FRIDAY, get tony down here. it's urgent."

"bruce, please, what's wrong with her?" she cried, tears now freely streaming down her face. she didn't cry much in front of anyone but when it came to you, you always managed to get her to do just that.

"hey, what's going on? FRIDAY said there was an emergency here, who's hurt?" nat heard tony's panicked voice but she didn't make an effort to reply. her gaze was fixed on only you.

tony's jaw dropped, frowning when he saw you on the bed, upper body covered in black lines. "what the hell happened?!"

tony stepped beside bruce, taking a closer look at your skin. his frown deepened. "wait, it looks like.."

"yeah, looks exactly like when you had palladium instead of vibranium in your arc reactor."

"does that mean—"

"palladium's been running through her veins for about twenty minutes now. FRIDAY, how high is her blood toxicity level?" bruce asks, sampling a drop of your blood from when he took out the dart.

"53% and it is still steadily increasing."

"tony, at the rate it's going, if she's not treated in the next fifteen minutes or so, she'll.." bruce pauses, not wanting to say it out loud.

"no, she just needs lithium dioxide. that's how fury and i cured your palladium poisoning, tony." nat finally speaks.

"SHIELD probably has them but they're all the way in dc. they're not gonna reach here in time," tony states solemnly, reaching over to move your hair out of your face, looking down at you sadly.

but he was immediately pulled aside, nat grabbing his collar and looking him straight in the eyes. "you have your stupid iron suits that can probably travel faster than the speed of sound if you try. you can go down there yourself and get the damn thing. i swear to god, tony, i'm literally going to destroy those stupid suits myself if you don't put them to good use." nat threatens, glaring at the billionaire.

tony's eyes widened, the genius having not thought about nat's idea yet. "yeah, yeah, you're right, i'll go now."

he left immediately and nat approached your bed hesitantly, not wanting to see the black lines making home on the skin on your upper body. "do you think tony'll make it back in time?" she sniffles and bruce's worried frown on his face softened. "of course he will. he won't let anything happen to y/n. we won't let anything happen to y/n." he assured her.

there was nothing they could do now but wait for tony to come back with the lithium dioxide. nat sat beside your bed, hands gingerly grasping one of your own. despite the black staining it, nat held it to her face and her tears rolled past the back of your hand.

bruce decided to give her some privacy, opting to inform the whole team of the situation instead of standing around idly.

nat pulled your hand away from her face, rubbing her thumb over the back of it, crying even more at the sight in front of her. "y/n, please. i've never told you this but i need you." she pauses, breathing in shakily. "i've always needed you and i'll always need you. you can't leave me, please. you said i could go on with life without you but you're so wrong, y/n. you're the reason i'm still here and you're the reason i still want to be here. if you're not here then it's as if i have no reason, no purpose. i need you, y/n. so much more than i'd like to admit. heck, probably much more than you need me. so please, don't leave me. i can't do this without you." nat sobs out, watching the patterns on your skin spreading and growing bolder.

at this point, the whole team had now gathered outside of the room, watching nat cry over you. they wanted so bad to get a closer look at their beloved baby avenger but they respected nat and instead, waited for her to finish talking to you. once she stood up and looked around, bruce knew she was done so he entered, followed by the team.

"status, FRIDAY?" bruce asks, sampling a bit of your blood again. "blood toxicity at 96% now."

the team looked your unconscious body in apprehension, some crying and some worried out of their minds.

"goddamnit! where the hell is stark?!" nat growled. her eyes were now puffy after having spent the last half an hour crying. the team had never seen her lose her cool like this but they figured why.

as if on cue, tony's iron man suit crashed through the windows of the room but he couldn't care less. his main priority was to get to you quickly. in his hand was a silver briefcase that he passed to bruce.

bruce opened the case before wasting no time in plunging the syringe containing lithium dioxide, your supposed cure, into you. immediately, the black patterns on your skin started disappearing. it was slow but noticeable. it started from the tips of your fingers, going up towards your neck.

everyone sighed in relief, and to tony's surprise, nat hugged him tightly. "thank you. you have no idea how much this means to me." she whispers. tony pats her back gently. "hey, i care about her too, okay? of course i'd do this for her. any one of us would."

nat smiles at him when she let him go, turning back to you and almost crying out in joy when your skin had finally turned back to normal. she let the medical assistants set your bed up and handle your sprained ankle before going back to sit by you. the team left her alone with you once again.

it was only about an hour later did you wake up, squinting when bright lights shone down on you. you moved around but you felt hands around your left and you heard a familiar voice.

"and remember when you dragged wanda to pull that prank on me with you and after you did, i grounded you like i was your mum or something?" you hear her chuckle, still not noticing that you've woken up.

"i didn't mind, though. frankly, i don't think i would ever mind if you continued acting like my mother or something," you spoke and she immediately tore her gaze from your hands, looking at you, now wide awake.

"bub!" she hugs you so tightly you didn't think you could breathe. you still returned the hug though, laughing. "i was worried you might still have some palladium in your bloodstream."

"wait, palladium?" you asked her in shock. "yeah, the dart that got you in that alley, it contained palladium. it's highly toxic so we used lithium dioxide to counter it. speaking of the dart, i'm going to find out who did this to you and they're never going to see the light of day for putting us through all of this." nat says, disturbingly calm.

"yeah...you do that," you tell her, slightly scared. "but palladium? in my blood? how cool is that? i had literal metal in my blood! i could've become like tony but like...palladium woman or something." you said excitedly.

"you do know we already have metal in our blood, right bub?" nat questions in amusement. "oh." you say dumbly. "and palladium don't belong in our body and you literally almost died because of it." your mouth opened but no words came out.

"speaking of, can you please not do that again? i really thought i was gonna lose you." she whispers, stroking your hair. "oh yeah, of course. i'll just announce to the whole world to not target the youngest avenger," you joke, smile dropping when nat gave you a stern look.

"nat, being part of the avengers at my age undoubtedly means i'll be a target for the bad people out there, but i don't care because while i get to kick ass, i know all of you have my back when it's my ass that's kicked. and i think that's the best part of being an avenger; the sense of security i get having you amazing people as my teammates." you tell her honestly and she smiles softly.

"oh come here you," she pulls you in for another hug but this time it's better because you could still breathe. you make yourself comfortable, snuggling into her.

"did you mean it?" she asked and you look up at her in confusion. "mean what?"

"when you said you wouldn't mind me acting like your mother."

"of course i do, you're like the mother i never had. i wouldn't even mind you being my actual mother." you say without a second thought, eyes widening when you realised what you had said. you swore under your breath, knowing you've just made it awkward between you two.

"i– really?" despite the teams efforts to make her see the truth, it was much more meaningful when she heard you say it yourself. "y–yeah.." you admit sheepishly.

"then you wouldn't mind if i actually adopted you?" she asks carefully, gauging your reaction. your jaw dropped, eyes going wide once again. "are you serious?!"

"yeah." she smiles at you fondly. "no! of course i won't mind!" you hug her tightly, tears forming in your eyes. you had gone all your life without parents so this was a huge thing for you. not only were you going to finally have a mother, but the most amazing woman you knew was going to be your mother.

"mum?" you tested the title, smiling when she acknowledged it. you were now crying in joy.

"hey, don't cry." she soothes you, running a hand up and down your back. "no, no, i'm just so happy. this is the best day of my life." you tell her. "me too, bub."

you stayed in her arms until you fell back asleep, nat tucking you in before going back to sit down on the chair. she looked down at you fondly.

sure, she was scared of the big step she was about to take with you but she had you with her and she knew that was enough. "i love you, y/n." she whispers, planting a kiss on the side of your head.

taglist <3

@amourtentiaa @rqmanoff @abitofeverythinggg @andreasworlsboring101 @cay-writes-fan-fiction514 @teenwonder @sevenmorningstars @fleurlovesbucky

[skzsauce01]

Clementia

Anniversary Request Special

Description: You’d always had a special place in your heart for Lee Minho even though he gives you countless reasons to hate him. How long will your patience last?

Warning: alcohol, sexual assault

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: fem!reader x Minho

“Y/N—”

“Go away, Minho.”

“Y/N, look at me.”

“I said no!”

“Well I said I’m sorry.”

You snap around to face him. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it, Lee Minho. You screwed up. You. Screwed. Up. I gave you one request, and you couldn’t even do that.”

“I had my reasons!” he protests.

“Yeah? Well let’s hear them.”

He emits a few noises but can't come up with anything. His face flushes red, but not as red as yours.

“There’s no excuse for breaking someone’s heart ever. Remember that.” You turn on your heels and begin walking away until he says something even more repulsive.

“Why do you care so much? She’s not even your real sister!” he calls after you.

You pause, unable to comprehend how such words could ever enter your ears. You then slowly walk back to him as he stiffens with every step you take.

“Not my real sister?” Your voice is soft, but it is effective.

“I mean—”

“You’re saying the girls at Epsilon Phi aren’t sisters?” Your voice begins to rise. “We’re more sisters than you and I were ever friends, Lee Minho! We love each other more than biological families do, but of course you wouldn’t know how that feels, would you? All you have in your chest is a cold, hard piece of coal!”

You turn away and break off into a run this time. Tears stream down your face from being insulted and betrayed by someone you held with high esteem.

You like Lee Minho. Of course, you’d never admit that. To the world, he is just some kid of your mom’s friend who annoyed you to no end, but through the arguments and time spent trying to prove each other wrong, your feelings grew bit by bit. When he had a relationship with your very own Little, you held in your feelings and wished them both the best. After all, you love both of them, and their happiness together was good enough for you.

That is, until Minho broke things off as nothing but a fling.

Minho has always been a huge flirt, but he’d promised to take her seriously this time. You made him swear it, and you emphasized how much your Little meant to you. Now, because you’re his family friend, your Little won’t even speak to you. Minho had ruined your and her relationship, and evidently yours and his too.

He didn’t used to be like this, all manipulative and amorous. You remember he used to follow you at the heel, caring about nothing more than sticking gum in your hair. It wasn’t until senior year of high school did he start hanging out with random girls and trying daredevilish things. You missed the old Minho, but you thought you’d accept him for all his changes since you did, after all, like him.

Until this moment, that is.

What he did was too much. What he said was too much. You know he is becoming toxic, and if he is going to continue down this path, even your love isn’t going to bring him back to your heart.

Minho watches your waning back then slams his fist against a nearby tree with a curse. You didn’t give him enough time to explain, not that he would have been able to in front of you.

You’d forgive him though, right? You have to. When he messed up before this, Minho could be sure you would. But now, he isn’t so certain. He has never seen you so angry and disappointed before, and he did that to you. Him. Minho lets out another string of curses and trudges back to his room.

He tries making it up to you the very next morning. He shows up to your 8 AM class with a cup of coffee and slides it onto your desk before sitting down himself.

You don’t even look at him. You just take the cup and slam it down in front of him, causing its contents to spill and burn your fingers. He quickly takes your hand in his and begins wiping it with his sleeve, but you recoil your arm and take out your own napkin.

The next place he tries is at your neighboring frat party. He knows you would be there, so he wears his tightest black jeans and a loose button-up. This trick has worked with other girls, so he hopes it would on you.

He takes the dance floor with his powerful dance moves and charisma. He can see you deliberately turned away from him and chatting with someone else, so he dances towards you. The cheering circle that has formed around him moves as well, engulfing you into the crowd.

You finally turn to make sure you don’t bump into anyone. Minho takes this chance to shoot you a wink which draws the crowd’s attention to you. They cheer and push you towards him despite your protests.

Minho takes your arm and leads you in the dance. You used to like dancing with him; your and his flow matches perfectly, and the two of you could revive a dying party just by dancing together. Today though, you just aren’t having it.

Minho puts a hand on your shoulder and scoops his hips low earning a cheer from the crowd. You can hear them calling your name, anticipating your response. You look down at Minho and immediately recognize his choice of clothing.

I wonder who’s going to have her heart broken tomorrow, you think with a dry laugh. Minho flinches, recognizing that sound. You take his falter as a chance to fling his arm off of you before walking away.

A chorus of oohs fills the room, and the crowd splits like the Red Sea for you.

You hear your name from his lips again. “Y/N!” It is more strained now than it was last night. Desperate. Defeated.

You gave him some thought after hearing the sincerity in his tone, but you are glad you did not turn around that night when you see him in class with some other girl on his lap. Whatever. He’s dead to you now, so why should you care what he’s doing?

Minho watches as you walk farther and farther from him. He pushes the girl off and continues to stare with narrowed eyes at you as you greet your new seat neighbors.

This isn’t how he predicted you would react. Truthfully, he kind of knew this attempt wouldn’t work. For one, it hadn’t worked once since he first tried it in high school. He thought hanging out with other girls would make him more attractive, more desirable by competition. At least, that’s what some then-college kids told him. Once he started, he just found himself unable to stop. It was a self-feeding cycle, really. Holding onto other girls and charming them numbs the void in his chest, but you ignore him whenever he acts like this which only further widens the gap. 

What is he to do though? This is the only life he knows, and so, it is the life he leads. Not all love stories can end happily.

And his sure doesn’t seem like it is going to. 

Sirens wail in the background. With the amount of girls he’s fooled around with, he kind of had it coming. Minho stares at his wrists, not daring to think, but one thought keeps recurring in his mind: you. He is going to disappoint you yet again. You already hate him, and now you are going to see him handcuffed too.

The cold wind makes him shiver when you, his emergency contact, open the door and step into the station. Your eyes immediately find him, and you make your way over.

“Y/—”

“Are you hurt?” you ask plainly.

Despite your icy tone, those three simple words fill him with a warmth he hasn’t known for a long time.

“I’m okay.” His hands reach forward, wanting to grab yours and keep you with him, but you’ve already walked away to announce your arrival to an officer.

“Miss L/Y Y/N?” a young official greets a little too enthusiastically. She looks familiar, you note.

“Yes, I am she.”

The officer looks pleased by your annoyed attitude towards the defendant. “Mister Lee is here tonight because of an accusation by Miss Choi of assault,” she informs you coyly.

You look at him. “Minho,” you said with a chilled voice. “Is it true?”

“No! Y/N, I wouldn’t—”

“It’s okay. I believe you.”

“Excuse me?” the officer sputters.

“I believe him,” you repeat. “He’s been going out with more people than I have fingers, but he never laid a finger on them.”

“But Y/N, that doesn’t mean he can’t start now,” the officer protests. “You’re his contact, but you hate him now. Surely, he’s changed”

“First of all, it’s Miss L/N to you, Officer” —you read her name tag and pieces begin to fall together from her eagerness to convict Minho to the inkling you felt the moment you saw her— “Yoo. And secondly, is it not against the law for you to be working on a case where your cousin’s the accuser?”

“How did you—!”

“Nothing escapes us Epsilon Phi sisters, even news from other sororities. Besides, Minho never plays with the same girl twice. As expected, this report is filed for an incident two months ago. You, Officer Yoo, knew I was his contact and waited for us to get into yet another fight before having your cousin put in the accusation, didn’t you?”

She scoffs in your face. “That’s a bold accusation from yourself towards law enforcement.”

“Where is the accuser right now? Shouldn’t she be here for interrogation as well?”

“Well she—” the officer looks increasingly flustered. “She needs rest after having to relive the memories of what happened. We’ll call her in tomorrow. Anyway, Mr. Lee Minho, I can hear your testimony now in room #3.”

Minho stands obediently.

“Wait. I request someone else interrogate him,” you object.

“We’re busy right now,” Officer Yoo huffs. “We can’t just let you choose who does the job.”

You cross your arms. “Sure. Interrogate him and have the entire case be nulled after I file a conflict of interest.”

Officer Yoo grits her teeth but returns to her station to call for another officer.

In the meantime, you turn to Minho. “Don’t answer anything you don’t want to, especially if they start leading you on with questions. It’s in your rights to remain silent, alright?”

Minho nods numbly at your words, still confused as to why you are so nice to him. Before he can figure it out though, an older man appears from the back and takes him to an interrogation room.

“Mr. Lee Minho?” 

“Yes.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Chief Jeon. I’m just going to ask you a few questions today; is that alright?”

“Yes.”

The chief nods and pulls out some papers. “Would you mind describing what happened with Miss Choi?”

“Well I was with—” he gestures towards the papers with his accuser’s name on it— “and we were hitting it off. She bought me a couple of drinks and at some point leaned in to kiss me. I realized something at that point, and I stopped her. She got angry, saying how she spent all that cash on alcohol for me, and threatened to accuse me of assault if I didn’t do what she said, but I knew I couldn’t do it.”

“Because of what you realized?” the chief repeats.

“... Yes.”

“And what was it you realized?”

“Do I have to say it?”

“According to the law, no, but if it can help you with your case, you might want to.”

Minho fidgets with his cuffs. “They can’t hear me from outside, right?”

“No. They most certainly cannot.”

And so, Minho tells him.

Minho turns around while the metal bars clang shut behind him. The chief thinks he has a pretty good chance, but due to the gravity of the accusation, they still decided to keep Minho in holding to give the accuser more time to make her case.

You stare at him from the other side, arms crossed. Minho takes the fact that you’re still here at two in the morning as a good sign for him.

“Thanks for being here,” he tries to start a conversation.

“I didn’t really have a choice.” So cold.

“I’ll change my emergency contact.”

“Please do.”

He winces. “Look… Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for insulting your sisterhood and for hurting your Little. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

He looks at you with those doe-like eyes of his. For once, you don’t feel anything while looking back at them.

“That’s not why I’m mad anymore. In fact, I’m not even mad,” you tell him. “My Little told me what really happened. She told me that she was actually the one who dumped you after you adamantly refused to kiss her. I asked some other girls you’ve seen and they all said the same thing. That’s why I was so confident with the officer earlier. I guess I owe you an apology for getting angry when you weren’t at fault.”

“Then”—he holds out a hand sheepishly— “truce?”

You look at it but keep your arms crossed. “Taking a step back from you has made me see things I wasn’t able to before, Minho, and that’s made me realize how much you’ve changed. You were my friend, my rival— someone who never failed to get on my nerves but also someone I couldn’t go without. But now” —you drop your arms and shake your head— “I can’t even recognize you anymore.”

You take a step back to leave. You’ve done this many times before, like when he stuck a plastic spider down your shirt or when he called you stupid in front of your crush in fifth grade, but something about this time feels different. Something about this time tells him you aren’t turning back around once you left.

A sudden despair grips Minho and he runs into the bars. “Wait!”

You pause, offering him one last second.

“Your Little,” he gasps, “did she tell you why I wouldn’t kiss her?”

You nod. “The others I asked did too. They said you were thinking about some other girl while you were with them.”

“Not ‘some other’ girl. One other girl.”

“I know.” You begin to walk again.

“Then why are you leaving?” He reaches a hand out, trying to grab any part of you. “Stay with me. Please, Y/N, stay.”

You don’t pause a second time. Out of desperation, he cries out, “Y/N, I love you!”

That makes you stop midstep. He holds his breath as you put one foot back then the other next to it to face him. You are so beautiful when you look at him. He melts under your gaze as you focus on him and only him. He’ll cherish you this time when you give him another chance. He’ll quit this playboy lifestyle. He won’t take advantage of your patience anymore. He’ll give you all that his heart has to offer. He’ll make sure you’re the only one in his eyes. He’ll love you. He loves you.

“Minho.” You relax your shoulders and straighten your back. You tilt your head just slightly forward and erase the edge off your tone. “I loved you.”

[notnctu]

switchin’ lanes - l.jn | ridin’ club

━ welcome to the ridin’ club smut series 

genre ➠ slow burn, smut, pwp???, fluff (if u squint) wordcount ➠ 8.3k details ➠  fem!reader, streetracer!jeno, badboy!jeno, college!au,  ━ where you and jeno are in a relationship, but not with each other. warnings ➠ explicit language, cheating, flirty banter, alcohol consumption, drugs, yall at a party, physical fighting (not with you), mentions of cuts/bruises, hickeys, drunk public dry humping, thigh riding, fingering, oral (f/receiving) synopsis ➠ If your boyfriend didn’t decide to join such a stupid unofficial club, then maybe you wouldn’t be in such a sticky situation where Lee Jeno is literally knuckles deep in your sticky situation as he drives you home. Or maybe if your boyfriend actually touched you, then you wouldn’t be seeking it from someone else, who can’t keep his hands off of you. taglist ➠ @rabbit-doyochi ; @darkneogotmyback ; @im-lame-irl ; @p-mini ; @niniluvsmarkhyuck ; @saniahmichael ; @jaehy9ngs ; @danyxthirstae01 ; @jaehyunoos ; @pikijaemin ; @suhweo​ ; @dearlyminhyung​

a/n ➠ hi yall its author doie❀!! i hope you enjoy the series pls leave me feedback lmaoo ill literally take anything. we also hit a milestone for followers and honestly its so crazy to know how quickly this tiny sideblog has grown! we’re so thankful that yall follow us, thank u for lovin us and we will try our best to put out more content!! also through the lens hit 1k notes how is that even possible like wow im speechless thank u for everyone who left such kind comments i treasure every form of feedback :) 

The heavy double doors of the classroom stare tauntingly at you. The evening setting in, painting the sky with strokes of orange and pink. You managed to remain complaint free the entire day, until your forgetful boyfriend canceled on you because of a club meeting. A meeting for an unofficial club on campus because it is illegal to street race. A club consists of delinquents that are obsessed with cars and steal your boyfriend away from you. 

This is the fifth time this week that your boyfriend stood you up or coincidentally forgot your dates. You can’t remember the last time he physically stood in front of you and not through a phone screen. However, it is not completely the stupid club’s fault that your boyfriend has neglected you. 

He truly is the worst boyfriend ever. He blames everything on his bad memory and does not prioritize you in his life. He loves one thing --- his car. You could be lying in a hospital bed, and he wouldn’t care to check up on you. 

So why did you stay with him? Because you’re scared of being alone? Possibly, but it is a can of worms that you did not want to open just yet. Sex is definitely not the reason you stay with him. He hasn’t touched you sexually since the first and now, last time you two slept together. 

You try your best, to only be waved off with a yawn. He doesn’t compliment you. He doesn’t look at you lovingly. He doesn’t even kiss you for longer than two seconds. You are a toppling tower, ready to crumble at any given moment.

The anger in your body fuels you as you pull the door open to reveal several men in leather jackets chatting away with each other. One by one, they all begin to lay their eyes on who abruptly interrupted their joyous conversations. Your eyes scan the room full of intimidating men, whose auras cause a shiver to run down your spine.

Your boyfriend is nowhere in sight, given that there are plenty enough guys who have the ability to cover him. You walk into the open space and the entire mood of the room shifts. 

Heavy cologne and a deafening silence fill the air. One particular male, who has been eyeing you the entire time, gets up and walks towards you. 

“Are you lost, baby?” Scoffs and chuckles sparsely cover the corners of the room. The unknown male has a jarring cut on his eyebrow, matching a small bruise on his upper cheekbone. 

“I’m looking for my boyfriend…” Your weak voice trails off from the sudden attractive male intimidation. The tall man peers around the room, crossing his arms.

“If you are this beautiful woman’s boyfriend, please fucking come out now. It’s very rude to keep your girl waiting for you!” Initially, his low throaty shout startles you. A heavy heat falls on your cheeks when you register his choice of adjectives.

The whole room falls silent once more, before your pitiful boyfriend steps out from between two bulkier men. “Hey babe, what are you doing here?” His eyes nervously bounce around the room, a shaky laughter erupting from his gut. 

“Sorry, Jeno. I didn’t mean to cause such a scene. I didn’t even see her come in.”

Like a trigger, you remember your intentions for storming in uninvited. Jeno gauges your flaming reaction to your boyfriend’s apologetic words. He nods, not out of acceptance of the apology, but out of disbelief.

He pulls your boyfriend by the collar of his white shirt and your eye widens at the condescending tone that causes your boyfriend to cower, “I’m not the one to apologize to.” With a careless toss, your boyfriend ends up shaking in front of you.

“Jeno is not the only one you should be scared of.” You whisper angrily to him as the rest of the room continues on with their previous chatter. 

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes, “listen, Jeno’s been arrested before. You don’t want to get on that man’s bad side.” 

Your eyes wander behind your boyfriend’s hunching shoulders, catching Jeno steal peeks at you too. There is no interest in the other rambling male that stands in front of him. He just wants to check you out a bit more. 

He is the hottest person you’ve ever gotten the attention of. You feel flustered, and a bit flattered at his lingering gaze. His brown hair is slicked back messily, giving you more to admire. Jeno is an absolute cliche from a bad boy fanfiction. He is unreal, and the odd chance that he can’t keep his eyes off of you, is also unreal. 

But with a light nudge from a blue haired fellow, Jeno’s eyes peel away from your’s. They exchange a few words, which then propels Jeno to hurriedly put on his slightly tattered leather jacket.

You lick your lips to the sight of his body lines as he stands up to follow his friend, but not without another look back at you. Noticing your stare still on him, he bids you a tiny wave goodbye with a smirk to die for. And like that, he’s gone. 

“Are you listening to me?” Your boyfriend’s voice finally reaches your reality. Your focus shifts to the obviously irritated expression on his face. 

“I guess, I’m not. Don’t fucking stand me up again or I will key your car.” You aren’t actually those kinds of girls, but your boyfriend didn’t take a threat seriously unless it involves his highly treasured car. 

And like Jeno, you also make your exit out of the steamy room. The chilly night brush against your unknowingly hot cheeks. Then, you take yourself to the only unhealthy coping mechanism you can think of: a place of free alcohol and no boyfriend.

It takes you a few months to completely stop caring about your dying relationship. You figure how easy it is for your boyfriend to do it, so you make the same decision.

He spends his nights with his friends he made from his club, and has totally become a self proclaimed car enthusiast. You lose yourself in copious amounts of cheap alcohol at your local parties and it’s almost like you stop sulking over a man who kisses his car goodnight.

While being alone did not bother you as much as you had been dreading, the sexual frustration is a completely different issue. You are absolutely drooling whenever your eyes find Jeno in the crowds of sweaty bodies.

If there is one good thing that came out of your boyfriend’s membership in that club, it had to be Lee Jeno and a few other notable people who attended the same parties as you.

He became a very close acquaintance, and you had learned some very important names associated with the Ridin’ Club. Na Jaemin, Lee Haechan, and Huang Renjun. But the three could not compare to the kindhearted Jeno that makes butterflies stir in your lower abdomen. 

Over the months, you also had learned rather quickly that your sexually clouded mind had tricked you previously into thinking that Jeno’s stares were full of lust for you. His girlfriend makes it clear that it isn’t the case.

Although you have caught the couple making out several times when trying to use the bathroom, your feverish, impure attraction toward Jeno never calmed down.

“You’re looking very tempting tonight, baby.” Jeno’s beaming eye smile greets you, even after completely undressing you with his gaze. His arms are wide open to embrace your warm body. 

The parties are always too hot to wear a fully clothed outfit. You often settle for a cute tank top and a short skirt to prevent your legs from collecting extra moisture. Jeno, without a fail, shows up in black jeans that clad his lower half, tucked with a simple white shirt. His tattoos and toned arms being on full display for you to admire. 

“Better make sure your actual baby doesn’t hear that.” The loud beats of the music make Jeno’s chuckle almost inaudible, but his expression remains cheerful, as per usual. “Did you get into another fight?” 

The fresh wound cut through his smooth complexion, which will eventually join the rest of his collection of fading scars. He mindlessly grazes over the new bandaging and dramatically winces. Clearly concerned, you grab his hand away from the injury. “Don’t touch it, stupid.”

His smile curves into a sly smirk, as he intertwines your fingers and kisses the back of your hand. “It doesn’t hurt at all.” His chest heaves into a fit of giggles, “just wanted to see you care for me.” 

Groaning, you shake his massive hand off of your’s. “Very funny. I should start charging you for my attention.” 

“Name your price, I got all the money in the world for you.” He winks, while lightly pinching your cheek. You are lying to yourself if you thought you could ever stay away from him. Jeno stirs up a part of you that craves the cheesy nicknames, flirty comments and the undivided attention. 

He motions you to follow him into the mess of people. Almost as if he’s a god, the crowd parts for you two to walk through without unnecessary extra bodies. The fear that settles in many individuals’ chest is understandable.

Like your first impression, Jeno is a complete walking fanfiction trope. He negotiates better with his fists, usually with good reason. The guns of the Ridin’ Club, though, his friends are very much to be feared as well. They will not hesitate to run someone over, if given the heated situation to do so. And most definitely, you can count them to be backing up their fighter, Jeno. 

You had not been mindful before of the chatter that regarded the secret Ridin’ Club. They are notorious for fast paced very illegal races in the middle of nowhere destinations and tempers that aren’t meant to be provoked. Besides their intimidating aura, it melts away after getting to know them.

Lee Haechan, the most annoying brat, but has the strongest, the most loyal bond to his boys. He’s also notably funny, often making you laugh with an exchange of banter.

Huang Renjun, the whiniest and initially quiet boy, but grows to be one of the loudest and will chew you out if anyone dares try engaging in verbal combat. 

Na Jaemin, the flirty playboy who always has a swarm of girls, but the gentlest man with a soft spot for cute things. 

And finally, Lee Jeno, the owner of your nights. He is the friendliest of them all, despite him being the toughest one. While his stare can kill, melting away his layers reveal the warmest heart. Not that Jeno is the only one to show initial interest in you, but he is the most considerate to the people he holds close to him.

He has taken care of you for many drunk nights and watched protectively over your intoxicated figure in the crowds. He makes you feel safe and seen, which are some of the many reasons you are entirely attracted to him.

“(Y/N)!” Jaemin’s scream pierce your ears the moment the blueberry catches your eye. He excitedly nudges the other two boys, who are busy pouring drinks into red cups.

“You’re going to make me spill it, idiot!” Renjun grumbles, but looks up to see your dazzling smile and tremendous excitement. His own smile grows, “so the life of the party finally decided to say hi.”

“Hi, my fanclub. I appreciate the long awaited greeting.” Your over the top, sarcasm causes all of them to chime loudly. Haechan hands you a cup and wraps his arm around your shoulders. 

Jeno joins you at your side and the five of you clink your drinks to the ceiling. A fit of yells over the music and a competition of who can finish first. As per usual, you set your cup down after draining the entirety. The others are still chugging the burning liquid down their throats. 

Haechan coughs after dropping his cup onto the counter. His face is twisted with the most disgusted contour, “I don’t know how you do it, (Y/N).”

“I already drank more than you guys, so it just tastes like water now.” You scream over the loud music. Jeno, Jaemin and Renjun toss their empty cups into the sink. 

At this rate, you are completely blindsided by the effects of the alcohol as your legs give out to gravity. Jeno catches you quickly, holding your elbows and your head is placed on his shoulder. Jaemin chuckles lovingly, before helping Jeno balance you against the island. Your head feels heavy on your shoulders, as the room spins in front of you. 

“You good?” Haechan pats your head gently, whispering close to you.

“I---” You try catching your breath after being winded. “--It’s hitting me now.”

Jeno wraps his arm around your lower waist to draw you close to him, “want to go sit down?” He mumbles into your hair. You nod, Jeno and Renjun supporting your limp body to walk over to the couch.

The dark living room is lit up only by colorful led lights, but it is not enough to make out much of anything. Everyone is in their own world, dancing and socializing within their own selves. The two men set you down on the cushion, but your impulse catches onto Jeno’s wrist before he leaves. Renjun is already lost in the crowd.

“Can I sit on your lap?” You pout cutely, all the shame in your body has been displaced with courage. Jeno’s eyes soften at your sudden request, and kisses the top of your forehead.

“The throne is all yours.” He says as he sits at your side and pulls you on top of his thick thighs. His arm is loosely dangling around your waist, resting on top of your thighs. 

The intimate position causes your mind to wander into dark thoughts. His strong, sturdy legs feel delicious against your clothed core. While you’ve been in this position once before, you could never forget how protected, yet very horny it makes you feel. 

“What’s on your mind, (y/n)?” Jeno’s deep voice brushes against your bare shoulder and you feel his chest press against your back. “You’ve been pretty silent tonight.”

You turn slightly to face him, “if I told you, I’m scared it would ruin things between us.”

“There’s nothing in the world that can hold me back from you.” He is always so quick to spill such alluring words. His soft lips graze lightly on your skin as his sparkling eyes look up at your expression.

All it takes is one more tiny kiss on your arm to get you grabbing his face, drawing him into a steamy, long awaited kiss. Surprisingly, he kisses you back, open mouth and tongue lapping with your’s. His hands reposition your legs to where you straddle him. Your faces dive deeper into each other’s as the kiss continues to intensify.

Jeno’s lips still have a hint of alcohol, but he mostly tastes like mint gum. And they are comparable to a cloud, the softest lips you have ever made out with. It is like kissing pure heaven, completely different from your boyfriend’s two second pecks. Jeno devours you in a needy way, like he’s been waiting to explore the wonders of your lips. 

However, you pull away when you feel the vibration of his phone against your inner thigh, almost like a wake up call. As if all the liquid courage disappeared, you blink back in shock at Jeno’s plump wet lips. The thought of his girlfriend crosses your mind, and maybe slight guilt for your own boyfriend fills your system.

You quickly start getting up from his hot body, “fuck, I’m so sorry..” But his hands pull you back onto him, your legs finding their way open above his thighs again. 

“Don’t be, I’ve always wondered what your lips would taste like.” A smirk, then a hearty chuckle relaxes your contracting nerves at the potential of a ruined friendship. 

“But, your girlfriend..” Your tiny voice trails off and Jeno picks up your chin. His fingers rubbing along your jawline.

His eyes do another lap around your features. He admires your averting shy eyes, your beautiful lips, and how they all come together to make a stunning you. 

There is no doubt in Jeno’s mind that he is very attracted to you. He knew it the moment you barged into the club meeting. You are his type of woman, a good mixture of confident and timidness. You like to have some fun, and aren't afraid to be bold. Not to mention, that you are incredibly hot and every time you flirt back just makes him melt inside.

“She won’t care. She hooks up with people all the time.” It puzzles you, all this time you had been holding yourself back from Jeno because he has a girlfriend. All to find out that the relationship isn’t as serious as you thought it to be.

“I know, it doesn’t make sense. But we aren’t two people to be tied down, but at the same time, we like each other enough to want to stay together.”

Your confused expression causes Jeno to laugh and ask, “what’s the dilemma with your boyfriend?”

Rolling your eyes at the mention of your boyfriend, you sigh, “it’s like we’re still together, but we aren’t at the same time. We’ve abandoned the relationship unknowingly.”

Jeno runs a warm hand up and down your thigh, while he listens intently to you. He nods, grabbing your waist to pull you over his groin. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“No, he’s a shitty person and an even shittier boyfriend. We literally haven’t fucked for the past year. I’m practically a virgin again.” His hand automatically gives your thigh a light squeeze.

Jeno’s eyes light up as you quickly cover your mouth out of embarrassment. A devilish smirk raises his cheekbone, and lust clouds his mind. Gauging his reaction, your cheeks turn hot.

“We’ll have to change that, don’t we? My baby must be all kinds of frustrated. Tell me, do you like when I touch you then?” Jeno drops in tempo, usually when he wants to be more intimidating with a deeper voice. 

You clear your throat intending to speak, but you can only nod your head in response. “C’mon, (Y/N). Use your words, like a big girl.” Even with the loud music and continuous chatter, you can hear Jeno‘s taunting whisper. 

His words tickle your collarbone as he runs his lips against your neck. Your heart is pumping rapidly at the turn of events, as if the possibility of having something beyond a kiss from Jeno is more than possible at this rate. 

Jeno enjoys your small whimpers as he marks your neck with purple love bites. Right in the center of the crowded room, Lee Jeno is just casually giving you hickeys.

“Yes, I love that you can’t keep your hands off of me.” 

Almost immediately, you can feel his lips curve into a smile on your skin. Pop! Jeno marvels the darkness against your skin in the mood lighting. A small part of him hopes you do end up seeing your boyfriend sometime soon, so he can see who you really belong to.

“How about we try touching like this?” Jeno pushes you down hard against his pelvis, the veins on his hands becoming evident from the grip and the tiny drawings permanently staining his fingers.

You gasp the moment you feel Jeno’s hip begin to move underneath you to the beat of the song. He rolls your hips rhythmically to match his speed. His clothed hard on can be felt through the only barrier you have on --- your panties.

The thin fabric is soon drenched in your juices after the continuous friction up and down his length. You throw your head back to every bump against your clit, the electrifying feeling enact more of your wetness to puddle. 

You can’t believe you were grinding against Jeno in the middle of a full party, as if his friends aren’t a few feet away. It is a good thing that your skirt pools around both of your waists to conceal the dirty deed underneath.

Jeno’s lip escapes under his top row of teeth as he rubs his clothed length against your barely covered pussy. He can feel his jeans dampening from your wetness and his eyes roll to the back of his head from how the feeling of wanting you consumes his body. He really becomes uncontrollable when it comes to you. 

This is the most sexual activity you have had with another person for over a year. Jeno just looks absolutely heavenly intoxicated with lust, and your mouth waters at how big his cock must be. You can feel his length the harder Jeno rolls against you, and it is definitely bigger than your boyfriend’s. 

You are trying so hard to stay quiet and unnoticeable, but the pleasure seeps out every crevice. Jeno is trained on you as your hand reaches up to cover your mouth, the muffled whimpers escaping your lips uncontrollably.

“I’m so close.” You admit, your body jolting every time his jean button grazes against your sensitive bud.

Jeno moves you over his thigh, forgetting his incredibly hard dick straining in his jeans. As long as you are satisfied, he can care less about his own pleasure. A low scream erupts from your throat when he flexes against you. 

His thigh is much more stable, with more control for consistency. You quickly notice the dark, wet spot on his jeans and you blush even harder. Your underwear clings onto you from the excessive moisture, but Jeno continues to help you finish.

The strands of hair cover your face, but Jeno needs to see your fucked out expression. He is taken aback when you start riding his thigh faster, grinding harder without the aid of his hands.

His mouth hangs slightly open in awe at your neediness, he truly did not know the extent of your sexual frustrations. Oh, but how he is incredibly turned on by you getting off on him. 

“I want you to cum for me, you deserve it.” Jeno brings you in for another passionate kiss. The mixture of his tongue sucking harshly on yours, and the friction on your clit are more than enough to reach your climax. 

Your legs clenched tightly around Jeno’s thigh. The small knot in your stomach that built, drops like the beat playing in the background. The feeling of white is familiar, but it is more intense than when you would touch yourself. You are finally receiving the pleasure from someone else’s touch, someone who wants you to unravel for him.

Jeno pulls away from your lips, kissing down your neck and collarbones as your chest heaves for air. His palm soothes your shaking legs as your climax subsides. You fall into his arms, and he laughs. The reality that you two just did that publicly registers in both of your minds.

Digging your shy face further into Jeno’s shoulder, he whispers lovingly, “let me drive you home.” 

“Are you still drunk?” The muffled question tickles Jeno’s neck.

“I think you beautifully cumming on my thigh sobered me up.” He jokes and you quickly cover his mouth. Your heart practically stops and you hope no one else heard him.

It is silly that you are now self conscious, as if the whole room didn’t just watch you and Jeno grind on the couch. But, the feeling of embarrassment and regret lingers in your stomach. You mentally thank the dark room for concealing both of your identities.

“I’m sorry for your jeans.” A pout begs for forgiveness as you stare at Jeno’s beaming smile. He takes your hand off of his mouth, not forgetting to give your fingertips a lingering kiss.

“I’m sorry for your boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” Jeno parts your hair from your neck, admiring the marks he left on you. A small sense of pride builds inside of him, accompanied by a tiny bundle of possessiveness.

“Let me say goodbye to the boys and I’ll take you home.” 

Nodding, Jeno carefully lifts you off of him and onto the cushion. He leans over to kiss your cheek. As he gets up, you see the darker shades on his jeans from your doing. However, Jeno is completely unbothered and continues to find his friends.

Now that you are alone, you feel a bit nervous that someone would come up to you and talk about what they saw. Checking your phone, your screen blinds you with absolutely no notifications from your boyfriend. Going on social media is worse, as you scroll to see that your boyfriend posted a photo.

It is a photo of his hot, red polished car. He obnoxiously posed squatting next to the front wheel, his lips puckered up and kissing the rims. With a caption that makes every regret in your body disappear, “with my one and only.” 

The phone is tossed somewhere else, wishing to delete the image from your memory. Your eyes wander around the room, when they spot a suspicious man sneakily dropping a small pill in an unattended drink. He, then, looks up and catches your stare. Caught red handed. 

But the male smugly smirks, “you’re going to pretend you didn’t see that, like how half of this room pretended to not see you grinding on Jeno.” 

“You’re complete scum, I can’t believe you just roofied someone’s drink.” You yell in utter disbelief at the unwavering man. His disgusting smirk changes into a menacing smile.

He approaches you, his height allowing him to tower above. You gulp, scared at how he can easily overpower you at any second.

“And what are you going to do about it? What? Jeno didn’t loosen you up enough?” His revolting hot breath beating down your nose, invading every corner of your personal space. 

Before you can find any insult to speak back, his figure goes flying sideways and out of your face. It’d be a lie to not admit your heart skipping a beat at the sight of Jeno’s clenched fists and locked jaw. His sharp gaze watches as the stranger gets up from the ground, inflammation already growing on his left cheek.

“Dude, what the fuck!” He shouts angrily, holding his cheekbone as he winces at the pain. Immediately, the conversations are replaced with gasps, and small whispers at the sight. People gather around the living room to see the commotion. Even you are unsure how to react to the sudden fight.

The other man lunges at Jeno with full force, but Jeno stops him by grabbing the man’s collar, “this,” Jeno punches his lip, busting it open, “is for dropping a roofie in someone’s drink.”

The stranger groans at the impact, but still gets up with a fist straight for Jeno’s gut. Watching Jeno take a blow is much more difficult than you had been expecting.

He crouches over from the punch, but quickly regains his composure to put the man in a headlock. A few more gasps erupt and wonder if you should stop him before he does something unnecessarily stupid. 

“This,” the man squirms to try to get out of Jeno’s iron grip, “is for disrespecting my babygirl.” And with a shift snap, the male falls limp and unconscious.

A surprised intake of air and Jeno peers up at your scared expression. He calmly walks over to you, ignoring the swarm of people that had gathered around the scene. He can only see one thing — you. Jeno’s wandering eyes try to read your expression, but all he sees is a terrified girl.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, are you okay, (Y/N)?” 

Blinking blankly for a few moments, you are mortified at the laying body, “what did you do to him?” 

Jeno looks back at the stranger casually, “I put him to sleep for a bit. He’ll wake up in about 20 minutes.”

A rush of reassurance washes over you knowing that he is alive and Jeno didn’t just kill someone in front of you. You exhale all the anxiousness and nerves, 

“thank you for stepping in.”

“I don’t fight without a good reason. You are more than a perfect reason to fight for.” He pinches your cheek cutely, and his tough exterior fades away yet again. 

His famous eye smile that warms your insides is back as if the scary, intimidating expression didn’t exist a few seconds ago. Jeno’s good sides only appear with you. Nevertheless, you are happy to know how special you are to see them. 

“Violence is never the answer.” He nods, only taking it for a grain of salt. “Are you okay? It looked like stringbean knocked some wind out of your gut.”

The teddy bear thrusts himself forward into a fit of laughter, his head resting on your lap. His melody lights every dark corner inside of you. “He did get a good punch in there, didn’t he?”

His rumbling laughter stops, and he peers up at you. “I can’t believe you were still worried about a complete asshole.” 

Scoffing, you break the shared gaze. “I’m a compassionate human being.” Jeno stands up, extending his hand for you to take.

“I know, you’re the best kind of person.” He genuinely means it with the way his tone remains quite stern, eye contact unwavering. He is revealing more of his intimate parts, and in return, you wish for him to see your’s. 

Silence drowns out all the commotion between you two. Jeno grows shy at the way the galaxies reflect in your stare. “I--” Never once, did you think you would witness Lee Jeno stammer over his words. “I-I, let’s-- I want to take you for a drive.” 

To Jeno, a drive to him is equivalent to your hand in marriage. Even his own girlfriend has never been on a drive with him. It is a big part of his personality, given that he is a crucial member of the Ridin’ Club. However, out of all of them, he is the last one to flaunt his hobby. It is special, almost sacred to his entire being. 

“Me?” It is the dumbest question to ask, but you really want to clarify his intentions. Before this night, you two were barely considered friends. You two never saw each other outside of the late night parties.

But now, Lee Jeno wants to take you on a drive. It makes you wonder if the desire of companionship is mutual, that he too pines to further your relationship.

“I’m not looking at anyone else,” Jeno still waiting for your hand and holding an intense eye contact. His heart lays exposed for you, just right on his sleeve. An innocence paints his usual intimidating aura, “let me show my special girl, what is special to me.” 

He must possess some magic because he knows every way to make you swoon. And like that, your palm meets his and he locks his fingers between yours. 

The moment you enter Jeno’s striking, eye catching car, you automatically relax into the leather seats. His pristine car matches his personality --- simple, but captivating. Your boyfriend’s car is the exact opposite, which is why you never enjoy sitting in it.

Jeno has pieces of himself that scatter his car, like an adorable small plushie that watches out the back window. A beaded lanyard dangles from his rear view mirror. It even matches his scent of a deep ocean breeze.

Unlike your boyfriend’s obnoxious details, Jeno did not have a light up stereo that flashed annoyingly to every beat drop in a song. Instead, a sweet lilac color illuminates at your feet, along with his. 

“You like what you see?” Jeno catches you astonish at the tiny aspects of the interior. 

“Of course, it’s yours. It’s exactly like how I would imagine it to be.” Jeno is proud, hearing you praise his car. Even he can admit, it is a bit weird to be so connected to an inanimate object.

Nevertheless, his car, racing, driving became a huge part of his life. And unlike his friends, he feels rather shy and slightly embarrassed for being such a geek. 

But hearing you actually appreciating the small details of his car when you probably hate every aspect of racing due to your boyfriend’s doing, it makes him feel very happy.

Maybe happy is an understatement, more like overjoy at how you freely can recognize the things that make him content. You respect him, and are mindful that as mundane as a car is, you know that it is something important to him.

Silence becomes the majority of the ride out of the quiet, suburban neighborhood. While Jeno’s eyes remain focused on the road ahead, you are concentrated on him.

He drives with one hand on the wheel as he rests his elbow on the middle console. His eyebrow creases here and there. It is the most normal, mundane activity anyone can do --- drive. That is all he is doing, yet the effect it suddenly has on you can not go unnoticed. 

Abruptly, with the rev of the engine and a press on the gas, the car practically flies on the empty freeway. It catches you off guard, causing you to hold onto the grab handle. Jeno peeks over at your shocked figure, and smiles to himself.

“Relax, (Y/N).” He calls your name, reaching over to rub your thigh as a way to calm your anxiousness. Automatically, your hand grips onto his for support and the other one drops from the handle. 

Exhaling, your eyes are trained ahead. The car is moving so fast that you can’t even make out anything around you. Everything becomes nothing, but colorful streaks against a dark background. The gravity against your chest feels crushing.

“How-- How fast are you going?” 

Jeno glances at the speedometer and intertwines your fingers into his own. “I don’t think I should tell you that, you might actually have a heart attack.” 

The window rolls down and you are hit with rumbling wind, “I know you’re scared right now, so stick your head out the window and take a deep breath.”

You look at him in pure fear, “what?! I can’t even move, let alone stick my head out the window!”

Jeno shakes his head, “trust me. Please, trust me.” He needs you to experience the same thrill he does. His own adrenaline is through the roof, out the entire atmosphere of the vehicle. The amount of joy he is experiencing became tenfold now that you are sitting beside him. 

You trust him and very meticulously, go against the wind. Your hair crazily dances along with the rush and your eyes water from being dried out. Adjusting to the pressure, you also stick your hand out the window. It whips backward, but you feel the wind slip between your fingers.

The rise in heartbeat and excitement pump through your veins. The beauty in the white streaks that create a runway, it is nothing but you and the open space. There is no other way to explore it, except at a high pace. You understand why Jeno loved it so much. 

Jeno bounces between the road and half of your figure out his window. Your eyes are closed initially, before you barely squint open. Tears fly by with strands of your hair, but you start to move your hand to physically feel the thrill pass between your fingers.

Then he sees it in the side mirror: the sweet curve in your lips he loves the most and the wideness of life in your eyes. It only makes him press the gas harder.

“That was incredible! You should take me riding with you more.” You marvel at him as he starts the route to your place. It is complete playfulness that hints in your tone because you are aware of how sacred these are to him. Nevertheless, a part of you still hopes he agrees to do so.

Jeno nods, “only because I like you,” He pauses, gauging your reaction with his side eye gaze, “a lot.”

Your heart sinks to an unsettling place in your stomach. Jeno could not possibly be serious, however, his tone no longer matches the playfulness of your own. It almost seems like he is telling the truth. But you didn’t want to believe that. 

Your eyes make a full circle before settling at the disappearing sidewalks, “stay in your lane, Jeno.” It is to keep the mood still light, you and Jeno aren’t ones to be serious. 

His hand has been on your thigh for the whole night, whether it be out of habit or comfort. His touch is always welcoming and warm, but suddenly, you feel the small squeeze on your flesh. Turning your attention on his face, you can see how a smirk has grown. 

“But yours seems much more fun.” Immediately, your stomach leaps with somersaults. Your throat gets dry and tight, not anticipating that response. 

“Beside, you can’t act like we both haven’t swerved. It was barely moments ago that you were cum---”

“---No need to further explain.” 

“And I’d proudly do it again.” His voice drops several decibels and his hand slowly snakes it’s way up your thigh. All the while, his eyes still on the road ahead.

You gulp as every heartbeat constricts your throat. Lifting the ends of your skirt higher to expose more, you secretly want Jeno to cause your legs to shake again. “D-Do what again?”

Jeno perks up to the sweetness of curiosity in your tone. He pulls up to a red stoplight, being able to finally look over to your innocent face and needy hands gripping the cute, thin fabric. He stares deeply into your eyes, “make my baby cum.” 

Similarly to the stoplight, you give Jeno the green light to pull your panties to the side. You spread your legs wide as his finger massages your pussy lips. He gets dangerously close to your erect clit, barely skimming over it. 

A needy, yet delicate moan escapes your lips and Jeno’s jaw tightens. He’s more upset that he’s missing the view of your legs spread, open mouth in ecstasy, half lid eyes all in the passenger seat of his car. He hopes for another red light, just so he can peek over at your delicious figure.

“Jeno, please touch me.” Your voice is airy and desperate. He hummed in response, completely withdrawing his hand from your core. However, you catch his wrist and bring it to rest on your inner thigh. “Please.” 

The distinct beg in your tone drives him crazy. As he dips his finger into your sudden wetness, a shiver runs up your spine. Right when he applies minimal pressure on your bundle of nerves, you jolt and close your thighs around his hand.

One touch already feels too good to be true, that finally someone, Lee fucking Jeno, is actually touching your nakedness. Peering down, Jeno’s arm is flexing in between your legs. His veins popping ever so slightly and his tattoos paint his smooth skin. 

“Open your legs, babe.” His low devilish chuckle rumbles in your lower abdomen. “Let me give you the lovin’ you’ve been deprived of.” 

You shudder at his cadence and slowly pry open your legs. Jeno stops at a red light and gets to see your reaction as he rubs you in a fast rhythmic pace. A soft cry yelps from your throat and you have to grip the handle to keep yourself from spazzing out any further. 

Almost like a trance, he doesn’t notice that the light turns green. He’s locked into the sight of your contorting body. Your hips have a mind of its own, yet again, as Jeno feels you rolling deeper into his touch.

“Poor baby, you’re so touch starved that you can’t control yourself.” 

“It feels better when you do it.” You whine, your lip being bruised from your biting. But your eyes notice the green illumination and you blink over at Jeno.

He is practically drooling at the sight of you, his eyes are trained at your needy hips and dripping wet core that soaks his fingers. You stop every urge to steal more kisses from him.

Jeno briefly recovers from the trance and steps on the gas. He takes this opportunity to ease a finger into the core, causing you to exclaim and squeeze around his digit. “Oh fuck, you’re so tight.” 

“More, Jeno.” The way his name rolls off of your tongue makes his heart flutter and his dick to raise in his jeans. Without much hesitation, he slowly slips in another finger and you moan at the stretch. Pumping and curling, he ensures that you are enjoying every action.

His fingers curl against your plushy flesh and your legs spread wider for him to go deeper. You’re a moaning mess when he curls up to your sweet spot, rubbing his fingertips quickly. The familiar queasy feeling builds in your lower regions, and Jeno becomes merciless with his fingers.

He guides them in and out of you, feeling your tightness release and invite him back in. The sloppy wet noises fill the car and drown out the engine. Your half lidded eyes bounce at Jeno’s unbothered figure and the entire scene seems absolutely unbelievable to you.

One hand on the wheel. The other knuckles deep in your pussy. Eyes focus on the road ahead. A comfortable man spread. His hair is messy from the long night.

It is all too unbelievable, that Jeno’s already giving you a second climax of the night when you could barely get one in a year before. And he loves touching you as much as he loves driving. 

However, the guilty raises as fast as the ball of tension in your gut. You two pull up in front of your apartment building, while Jeno’s tugging his fingers against your flesh aggressively. In a split second, you hold onto his wrist to stop him. 

He shifts into park when the car settles into a spot and peers over to you. A curious expression daunts onto him, rather concern that he might have been too much. “I’m starting to feel guilty.” 

Jeno nods, and retrieves his fingers out of your dripping core. The feeling of emptiness causes all the built up pressure to dissipate.

“I understand,” he begins, but pauses at the sight of your sticky juices glistening on his fingers. Your eyes widen as he licks them clean, a soft moan escaping from the back of his throat. 

The small action spikes your heart rate and you rub your legs together. With a pop! Jeno hums delightfully, “baby, you taste so good. I’m a little sad I won’t be tasting more, especially directly from the source.” His lustful eyes glance down at your thighs and back to your profile. 

“I’ll walk you up to your apartment.” He says way too casually, unbuckling his seat belt. A mixture of emotions are running through your head. There is guilt, but lust is too powerful to ignore, especially when it’s Lee Jeno. The damage is already done, right? It’s not like it wasn’t moments ago that you humped him in the middle of a party. 

“Wait,” your hands find themselves gripping onto his leather jacket tightly. Jeno gently reaches over to release your strong grip and replaces the leather with his hand. 

“Yes, babygirl?” Jeno’s round, friendly eyes meet yours. The lust clouded darkness is no longer there. His hand feels hot and somewhat rough. 

“I’m going to break up with my boyfriend, so promise me, you’re not going to dip out of my life afterwards… I don’t need you to be anything more than a friend. I just can’t lose you too.”

He turns around in his seat to face you comfortably. “I don’t think you’ve noticed, but I can’t stay away from you, let alone have the ability to leave you.” He reassures you with a soothing and calm tone. His thumb draws circles around your knuckles. “I’m always going to be your friend, whether or not I know how you taste.” 

“Do you still want to try it … you know, from the source?” You shyly ask, an innocence embodying your gaze and voice cadence.

Jeno raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips. “I’d love to, only if you let me.” 

Instantly, you shift to get on your lower back. Jeno watches as you excitedly position yourself open for him and actually finds your eagerness quite adorable. Your left leg bends behind the driver’s seat and your right rests on the dashboard. 

He hooks his arms underneath your thighs to pull you forward towards him and your whole body slides against the leather. With a slow lift, your skirt reveals your drenched panties. Rolling them off and tossing them to the back seat, he lays eyes on your still dripping pussy. Jeno takes a second to admire your flower, this being his first time he’s seen such a private part of you.

“You’re beautiful, you know that right?” He chuckles deeply, before his tongue licks a long strip up to your clit. You exclaim out of the tingling pleasure that seized your insides.

He flattens his tongue against your bundle of nerves, flicking and circling. His finger enters your pussy again, curling up to rub at the same pace he is licking. The pure sight of Jeno’s head in between your legs is enough for butterflies to explode. 

His sole motive is to make you feel good. There is nothing else in the world that he wants at this moment beside pleasure to overtake your body. Jeno eats you out like he hasn’t had a meal in months. His mouth wraps around your clit. The mixture of his flicks and sucks cause electric bolts to run down your legs. 

You get more wet as Jeno pumps his finger in and out of your hole. Your juices are practically dripping onto the interior of the car, but Jeno doesn’t care.

He fucking loves it. He loves the taste of you lingering on his tongue. Your breathless moans. Your waterfall dripping on uncontrollably. The view of you unwinding because of him. Nothing can be more perfect. 

Running your hands through his messy locks, you press him closer into you. A devilish smile draws on his face as he flicks his tongue side to side. “Oh, fuck! I’m.. so c--close.” 

Your back arches upward into Jeno’s mouth, feeling his muscle lick harder and faster on your throbbing clit. He adds a second finger, and the simultaneous stimulation practically throws you into another dimension. The pleasure overtakes your entire lower half, your legs trembling from pure ecstasy as you approach your orgasm.

“Don’t stop, I’m going to---” Then, Jeno pulls away and shoves his tongue into your warmth. A gasp hits the air as he also continues to rub circles on your sensitive nerves. His tongue fucked your pussy incredibly skillfully and deliciously. With this switch, your legs violently shake and try clamping together.

However, his strength holds you wide and open for display. A low grunt follows suit as his dark eyes zone in on your contoured facial expressions. Then, the white light blind you once again and the ball of tension unravels itself on Jeno’s tongue. Squirming and screaming, your hips buck forward on their own. 

It is close to being too catastrophic, this being the most intense orgasm you’ve had after a whole year. Nevertheless, the satisfaction is right on the tips of your toes and you greedily indulge in the euphoric moment. Jeno feels your walls squeeze around his muscle as he laps every last bit of you up.

He is absolutely addicted to your juices, making sure he catches every drop. Finally pulling away, he wipes the extra drip on the back of his hand. Jeno blinks at your raising chest and limp legs. Chuckling, his warm hand massages feeling back into your body.

“Do you want me to carry you back up?” His hoarse, raspy voice wakes you from your post orgasm daydream. You flutter your lashes at him fondly and happily nod at his offer. 

Getting out of the car, Jeno walks over to the passenger side and your arms rest nicely around his neck. His palms support your butt, but also smoothing your skirt over to cover your decency. A poke against your outer thigh makes you realize that Jeno is strained against his jeans.

“I can take care of you too.” You pout cutely at Jeno, but he shakes his head.

“It’s not about me tonight. It’s about you.” Leaving a soft kiss on your cheek, his eyes turn into moon crescents from his lovable smile. The kind, friendliness makes an appearance again.

Or so you think! In a sheer second, Jeno’s deep voice rumbles your stomach and his hooded eyes pierce your soul, “next time though, I’m fucking you real good, babe.” 

You hum in response. Saliva collects in your mouth, already looking forward to more of Jeno. But a chilly draft brushes up your exposed area as Jeno carries you up the flight of stairs.

“Wait, Jeno… I don’t have my underwear on.” The ‘Level 3’ sign is in view as Jeno turns to walk. 

He only laughs and shrugs nonchalantly, “it’s better that way anyways.” Without another word, he continues upward to your floor and you playfully punch his solid chest. In all honesty, that’s not going to be the only time you leave behind your panties in his beloved car. 

Your hatred for the notorious Ridin’ Club subside after such a wild night. If anything, you owe it all to your shitty ex-boyfriend for joining such a ridiculous club. Without him and the club’s existence, who knows if Lee Jeno would’ve still swerve into your lane. 

[mythicalgemwrites]

Selkie x F! Reader (Linn) Part 1

Sorry for not posting earlier guys! I've been very busy with online classes.

Warnings: mentions of drowning. Pics are not mine, all credits go to the owner!

M! Selkie X F! Reader

Living on an island your whole life has its perks. From the fresh scent of the salty ocean air to the calming sounds of the waves crashing lazily, it never failed to wake you up with a serenity that could be found nowhere else. You had lived alone with your Toller pup for the past couple years, in the house that your grandparents had left for you. You grew up with them, as your parents always had to move from town to town due to their profession. They were both marine biologists and had taken up a job at a top secret research facility when you were 12, so they decided to let you stay with your beloved grandparents. However, on a stormy day a couple years ago, when you were 19, both your grandparents got caught in a storm while they were out fishing, and they never came back. During the funeral, you had found out that in their will, they had stated that you should get the house, in the event of something tragically happening to them.

And that’s how you got the house three years ago. When it became too lonely, you decided to adopt a Toller puppy for company, and you had named him Sam, which was your grandpa’s nickname. He provided good company and unconditional love, which is important in every home. The house had its own dock leading to the beach, so every morning, after your walk, you’d put Sam’s retriever genes to good use and play fetch with him, fetching the ball from the ocean was one of his favorite past times. Whenever you brought him to the beach, you sometimes feared he was going to be the reason why someone almost drowned. To date, you were grateful nothing like that had ever happened, but you sometimes couldn’t brush off that fear. You were a writer, and sometimes, you couldn’t control how far your imagination went, and sometimes, the words you put on paper would be some of your worst fears, if they were to come alive.

As the days go by, and the weather gets chilly, you would often take Sam on a walk to the nearby cove, usually in the warmer months it would be filled with children playing by the beach and in the waters, but as the weather got cooler, it was mostly couples going on romantic walks, or some who preferred the solitude, just came to enjoy the sunset. On this particular day, there weren’t many people by the cove, just a couple strangers. It was around 6:15 when you threw the ball the last time, and waited for Sam to retrieve it. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, fully inhaling the chill autumn air, when you heard a whelp coming from the water. Opening your eyes, you saw Sam caught on a wave, and struggling to get back to you. In a panicked state, you took off into the water, not worrying about the growing current, but more worried about your faithful companion, struggling in grasps of strong waves, at least for a dog his size. As you grab him by his collar, attempting to pull him out, another wave comes crashing into the two of you, causing you to go under. Trying to call for help, and failing, as the water fills your lungs, you stop struggling, knowing it might make your situation worse, however, Sam starts barking, with his head barely above the water.

Suddenly, you could feel yourself being pulled out of the water, and being held against a broad chest by strong arms. Once you reached the water, you looked at your savior, beautiful greenish-blue grey eyes met yours, and you saw a cute familiar face looking back at you. It was Linn, the barista in the cute local café. You had to admit, you’ve always had a crush on him, but from afar. You didn’t know anything about him, except that people claimed that his family had lived on the island for years, centuries even.

He had shaggy brown hair, and small freckles were scattered along his face. With his help, you got up from the ground and called out to Sam. “Are you alright? I saw you getting pulled under and saw your dog barking. Do you want me to call someone?” he asked , in a boyishly deep smooth voice. Gaping like a goldfish out of the water, it took you a few seconds to process what was said. Coughing, you rasped out “ Yes… I’m fine, thank you! My dog , Sam, got caught in the waves, and I tried to get him out.” you started babbling like a lost child. “ Can I call someone to come get you?” He asked again, a hint of concern in his eyes. “ oh, no… no it’s okay, I live alone, well with Sam. There’s no one to call.” you said, trying not to act like a 15 year old who just couldn't help but be nervous around her crush. “I’ll be fine, really, I just need to walk home and dry out. Thanks again for helping!” you exclaimed. Calling Sam to you, the both of you started to walk home. “ Hey! Wait!” you heard Linn calling from behind, “ I’ll walk you home, if that’s okay. It’s getting dark anyway. I’ll see to it that you both get home safe,”. Before you could say anything, you felt him putting his jacket over you, helping with the chill. You didn’t realize you were freezing until he wrapped his jacket around you.

When the three of you reached your home, Sam was happy to be back in the warm embrace of his bed. Standing by the door “ Would you like to come in? Maybe a cup of coffee… or tea or anything else, if you prefer?” quickly giving him the option of whatever he preferred, to make sure you didn't seem ignorant. Sure, he worked as a barista in the local café, but that doesn't mean he loved coffee, right? “ Um, sure! Anything will do,” he said, as he followed you in. Looking around, you kicked yourself in your head, not keeping up to the schedule you set yourself for cleaning up around the cottage. Sure, it was decent, but paper everywhere? A heaping amount of mugs were strewn around your coffee table, as you sat there working on your next work.

Quickly picking them up and moving them to the sink, you filled up the kettle and turned it on to boil. “ There’s tea and coffee in the cabinet above the kettle, feel free to help yourself. I’ll go get dried up,” the words left you, as if you were telling them to an old friend, hoping to not make a fool of yourself anymore, you gave him a sheepish smile and made your way upstairs to your bedroom.

(Linn pov)

I made my way to the cabinet, looking through the various tea blends. Something which would help with the cold temperature would be nice. There in the right corner of the cabinet, was a box of peppermint tea. It would definitely help make her feel better, since she was soaked to the bone. I can’t help but feel a sense of concern for her. This beautiful strong woman that I always encounter in the café I worked in, and possibly have a crush on, I can’t believe I never spoke to her. I’ve always seen her writing in the corner of the café, in her spot, as my coworkers and I have labeled it. She always seems so sure of herself, and always seems ready for anything, but today, out in the water when I saw her struggling, something came over me. I had to save her, felt a sense of protectiveness for her, hence why I offered to walk her home. Taking two bigger than average mugs from the cabinet, I filled them up with the boiling water, after placing a tea bag in each and placing them on the coffee table before the couch. Her dog was in front of the heater, longing for some warmth and hoping to dry off. I heard soft footsteps coming down the stairs.

As I got to the bottom of the stairs, I saw Sam laying before the heater, trying to get warm. Making my way to the tiny laundry room, I picked up Sam’s towel. Making my way to him, from the corner of my eye I saw Linn, sitting on the couch, two steaming mugs of what seemed to be one of my teas in front of him.

“ I made some peppermint tea, it helps with colds, we don’t want you to catch one now do we?” grinned Linn.

Thanking him, and taking the mug he held one, I sat next to him on the couch. Keeping some distance between us, I asked him if he wanted to use the bathroom to clean up.

“ If you have any spare clothing that might fit, I’d like that! It’s okay if you don’t though!” he nervously exclaimed. “ I do have some spare clothing that belonged to my grandpa, they should fit. Gimme a sec! I’ll go grab ‘em, and a towel too!” I exclaimed, leaving the cozy embrace of the couch.

Making my way to my room, where I kept a spare drawer full of my grandparent’s clothes, I dug out a jumper and a pair of pajama pants which belonged to my grandpa.

When I went down, I saw Linn drying Sam with the towel that I had left by his dog bed, and Sam being the belly rub loving dog he is, happily accepted Linn drying him with the towel, belly rubs being a necessity. Letting out a chuckle at the scene before my eyes, I held out the spare clothes and a fresh towel to Linn.

“ There’s a bathroom two doors left from the stairs upstairs,” I exclaimed, reaching for the doggy towel he left by the couch and chucking it in the laundry room. “Thank you,” he exclaimed, leaving to go to the bathroom.

Once Sam was dry enough, I picked up my mug of tea, making myself comfortable on the couch. Looking out the living room window, rain droplets trickling down the class, I sip on my tea, waiting for my guest to arrive from the bathroom. A couple minutes passed, looking up when I heard soft footsteps heading towards me, I offered Linn a smile and patted down the space next to me on the couch. “ Here, you can leave once the storm stops,” I handed him the mug.

We both sat beside each other, talking about what we remember about my grandparents and how we never spoke to each other when we were younger. Sam sitting at our feet. The dying fire casted a warm allure on his face, illuminating the soft scattered freckles. Hours passed as we enjoyed each other's company over another mug of tea, laughing at all the brief mutual moments that were shared between us. He mentioned that he would always get excited to see me whenever I visited my grandparents by the docks. I didn’t want to admit it, but I always loved to catch a few glimpses of him, whenever he wasn't looking as well.

I laughed at his words, tired but somehow feeling rejuvenated. It had been a long time since I last laughed with someone. It felt good to let go.

His expression of awe paused me mid laughter. He was gazing into my eyes, as I his. For a brief moment, his gaze averted to my lips. Moving his gaze up to my eyes, as soft as a whisper “ May I kiss you?” he asked, a foreign emotion lingered behind his now soft eyes.

Giving him a gentle nod, I felt him place his hand at the nape of my neck. Inhaling a deep breath, his scent which reminded me of the sea with a hint of musky peppermint enveloped my senses.

Linn leaned in, gently bringing my face towards his. He closed his eyes, and for a brief few seconds I admired him until mine shut involuntarily as I felt his lips on mine. After a few seconds, he pulled away, still gazing into my eyes, “ I’ve been wanting to do that for quite a while now,” he said, with a sheepish grin, before kissing me again.

He deepened the kiss a little, giving my bottom lip a light lick before pulling away. “ I regretted not telling you how I felt about you earlier… I did ask permission from your grandpa before he passed. The last thing he said to me was, he’d be happy if you chose me,” he paused for a second, a hint of sadness and regret casting a shadow on his blue eyes. “ I… I need to tell you something. I might … might not be who you expect. And I understand if I’m not who you want,” he stammered. Grunting, “ The rain’s about to stop. I should probably get going,” he said as he started to get up.

Grabbing onto his hand, “ No...don’t! Please… It’s late, you should stay!” I stopped him. “And I’ve had a silly little crush on you too… I just never knew how to tell you” I whispered. He sat next to me, slowly, as if I were made of fine china. That, at any moment, I might crumble. “ You did?” he breathed, his breath close enough that I could feel it on my face.

“ I also know what you are. Grandpa made sure to educate me on myths, and he said some were not myths. I’ve seen you carry your pelt around sometimes,” I closed his hand between mine. “I know you’re a selkie, Linn. I don’t want you to hide that from me.” I breathed, gazing into his eyes. I could catch a glimpse of adoration in them. “Thank you… for not running away, even when you knew what I was,” he sighed. I gazed at his lips, before catching them with mine, a soft peck, to let him know I accepted him for who he is.

[scvrllet]

Eternity

“What crueler punishment is there than love?”

PAIRING: Regulus Black x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Falling in-love was always scary, but falling in-love knowing there is an inevitable end is terrifying

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

WARNING(S): Mentions of death + brief mentions of grief, Immortal!Reader

AUTHORS NOTE: This has been sitting in my drafts for months ( back when i was an active hp writer and was primarily in said fandom) and finally decided to post it

JOIN MY TAGLIST - MARAUDERS MASTERLIST

Immortality may seem like a blessing to those who desire it but forget the burden those cursed with it must carry.

How long have you been alive to watch the world around you evolve? Watch as one Dark Wizard rose and fell only for another to take their place? Watch as those you loved died, leaving you to grieve for all of eternity but yet some dare say that it’s a gift? The answer; far too long.

If anything, it’s more of a curse than a gift. A cruel way of punishing others but not just them but their family as well.

Old magic was dangerous and masters of those forces were not to be messed with. Your family had learnt that the hard way many years ago. An old witch, who one of your past ancestors had wrongly messed with, put a curse on your family. Any and every daughter born into the (Y/L/N) family would be cursed with immortality, paying their ancestors debt for all of eternity. Perhaps this is where the term ‘old soul’ had come from. You thought to yourself once. It humored you at the time but barely anymore. All you wanted was for your soul to be at rest but due to that witch’s magic, that would never happen.

When your parents welcomed you into the world you would be cursed to live in forever, a part of them had hoped that the curse would have somehow skipped a generation but when they noticed your lack of physical aging as you grew up, the only thing they could do was spend as much time with you as possible, your father especially. His time was running out but not yours. It never would.

You’ve lived through many decades and met several people, most of whom were starting to leave your mind, being replaced by the new people you were always meeting. Friends in your opinion, were easily replaceable. Whether it be betrayal or death that causes a rift in the friendship, there was always another willing to fill that spot. This being said, it didn’t mean you never loved them because you did. You spilled all your secrets and thoughts into them and held them as death took them away from you. Oh how their souls were fortunate enough to be able to rest.

You remember listening to your aunts and grandmother talking about their past lovers as a little girl. When one had finally passed, they’d give themselves some time to grieve before hopping into a new relationship, allowing the cycle to repeat itself. They would’ve expected for you to follow in their footsteps given the curse and all but were quite surprised when decades, maybe even centuries had passed, and you were still in-love with that boy from 1976.

You smiled as you recalled the day. It was the day you realized you were falling in-love for the first and possibly the only time in your life. For a moment, that moment specifically, you forgot about your curse and what would result from it.

It was the third of December. Snow fell onto the white ground as a cool breeze turned your faces red. You were both supposed to be in Herbology class at the time, not by the Black Lake throwing snowballs at each other but

With a bit of help from your magic, you had sent at least ten snowballs in his direction. You laughed as it hit him in the face and the moment of you letting your guard down allowed for him to throw one right back at you.

Your face was cold and wet as you wiped the snow off your face. Narrowing your eyes at him, you noticed a sparkle in his grey eyes before another snowball hit you in the face.

“Reg I swear to God I will murder you.” You threatened as you wiped the snow off your face. Anybody else would’ve been scared and immediately apologized but he knew you like the back of his hand.

“Is that so love?” He teased knowing that nickname was always able to crack your façade. Glaring daggers at him, you hoped he wouldn’t notice how your face got warmer but he saw the corners of your lip twitch upwards a bit and that was all he needed to continue teasing you.

Waving your wand, a pile of snowballs appeared beside you and before Regulus could even say anything, they were all sent flying in his direction one by one. He sighed in relief when the last of the snowballs had been fired at him before using his wand to dry himself off.

When he was finally dry, he looked up at you and smirked before grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the Black Lake. It was frozen but you were absolutely terrified of the ice cracking and falling into the cold water. Just thinking about it sent shivers down your spine as he walked closer to the frozen lake.

“Do you trust me?” He turned around to ask you, standing at the edge of the frozen lake. Had this been someone else, you would’ve broken free of their grasp and run back to your dorm but he was different. You couldn’t explain why, but you felt safe around him. It was an odd feeling.

Simply nodding, he smiled before carefully stepping onto the ice. He laughed as he felt your grip on his arm tightened as the two of you walked further on the ice.

“Regulus what are we doing?” You questioned as he continued to lead you away from the shore.

“Ice-skating, I think. I’ve overheard my brother talk about doing it with his friends and figured I’d give it a try.” He replied with a shrug.

You abruptly stopped in your steps and arched a brow at him as you asked: “You’re telling me that we’re currently ice-skating?”

Regulus cocked his head to the side slightly. “Are we doing it wrong?”

“Ice-skating Reg, it’s in the name. We need skates.” You replied and a look of realization dawned on him. He knew that it felt odd for muggles to do this sport with normal footwear but he just hadn’t realized what he was missing.

“I was wondering why we weren’t going as graceful.” He said under his breath, causing you to chuckle. “Well, right or wrong, I think we’ve had enough ice-skating for today. Come on you must be freezing.”

He grabbed your arm again and started walking back towards the shore. A mistake in this action though was that he didn’t give you enough time to react before he was pulling your arm. This resulted in you losing your balance and slipping on the ice but thankfully, his fast reflexes had you balanced on both feet as Regulus held you by the waist.

“Are you alright?” The playful teasing expression had now been replaced by a wide eyed look of concern as he moved his hands to rest on your shoulders as if to further steady you. He searched your eyes for any sign telling him that you weren���t okay. Thankfully, there were none and he sighed in relief and pulled you into his chest.

Far too intoxicated in his scent, you hadn’t realized that you were shivering until he pointed it out and began to cautiously head back inside. Lightly tugging on your jacket, the two of you got off the ice and back onto the solid ground. As you walked back you couldn’t help but question that feeling you felt whenever you were with him.

It was the feeling you felt when you were having a snowball fight with him. The feeling you felt when he laughed and his eyes would light up. It was the feeling you felt when you were around him and what you felt when he caught you on the ice and looked at you. The moment that happened just a few seconds ago replayed in your mind and you doubt that it’d ever stop. It made you feel warm and safe, mortal even.

You didn’t even realize you were back inside until you heard a voice call out from down the hallway in front of you.

“Mr Black and Ms (Y/L/N) aren’t you supposed to be in Herbology?” It was McGonagall. Shit.

Turning the opposite way, the two of you ran down the hall and turned the corner towards the Dungeons. Teacher or not, you both doubted she would enter the Slytherin’s Common Room.

“Blimey Black, if I wanted to warm up I would’ve rather set myself on fire.” You huffed as you tried to catch your breath. “And how are you not out of breath? I feel like I’m dying.” You had just run nearly halfway across the castle and Regulus wasn’t gasping for air like you who was hunched over the couch, quite dramatically as well you might add.

The boy in front of you rolled his eyes at your exaggeration before sitting down on one of the couches and patting the seat beside him, gesturing for you to sit down beside him. With a flick of his wand, a fire was lit in the fireplace allowing both light and warmth to fill the dark Common Room the Slytherin’s had. You always wondered why Salazar decided to place the Common Room in the Dungeons out of all places. A tower would’ve been much nicer, warmer even, but it seems as his blueprint for Common Rooms was different compared to the other founders.

As you sat down beside him, he pulled you closer towards him so that you were resting on his chest as his arms were wrapped protectively around you. “Better?” He asked and smiled and you hummed in response.

His fingers were tangled in your hair as he hummed a song. That combined with the sound of the fire crackling in front of you were enough to pull you to sleep. When you woke up the next morning you were still in the Slytherin Common Room but the fire was now out and there was a blanket on top of you. You were also laying on something that was most definitely not the couch since you could feel arms loosely wrapped around your stomach.

Sitting up you noticed that the sun was just starting to rise but that wasn’t what shocked you. It was the fact that you had fallen asleep on top of Regulus and that he stayed there until he too fell asleep. He could’ve just left you on the couch to go to sleep or ask one of your friends to take you to your dorm so why did he stay?

“(Y/N)?” You heard him mumble groggily. Whipping your head around you saw Regulus still very much asleep, or at least he looked like he was. His eyes were still closed and his black curly locks were a mess, something he wouldn’t have accepted if he was awake. He was always thought to look presentable at all times.

Shrugging off your previous thoughts you smiled down at him and intertwined your fingers with his. “I’m here Reg.”

He stirred a bit and his grip on your hand became firmer before light snores were heard from him.

“What are you doing to me?” You mumbled as you pushed a few strands of hair off his face. It was that same feeling. That warm feeling that just made you yearn to be with him, it was back. This time much stronger but back nonetheless.

It took you awhile but you did realize what he was doing to you: he was making you fall for him. You didn’t know if it was intentionally or not but what you did know was that it was working.

You were falling in love and it was absolutely terrifying.

Despite your curse and the known outcome, Regulus treasured every single second he was able to share with you. The relationship lasted two years, ending a few months after you both graduated from Hogwarts due to his discovery upon Voldemort. Aside from Kreacher, you were the only person who knew the truth about Regulus Black and what happened to him. Not even his brother or parents knew what had happened to him but that’s how it would stay. The world wouldn’t know about the boy who died trying to right his wrongs.

After his passing though, you couldn’t bring yourself to move on. It didn’t feel right and with all the pain that came with it you doubted you’d ever allow yourself to fall in-love again.

So as years went by and the world continued to move on, you were stuck on that boy from 1976.

[lumosandnoxwriting]

What Happens to Bad Boys - George Weasley

Title: What Happens to Bad Boys Pairing: George x Fem!Reader Warnings: NSFW!! Dry humping, praising, teasing, degradation. Slight Sub!George Summary: Y/N loves teasing George to force him into giving her what she wants. But when he refuses to give in Y/N has no choice but to show him what happens to boys who are bad. A/N: Summary is shit but again, what else is new! For the anon who wanted some dry humping with George!! I’ve been dying to get to this request so thank you to the person who requested it haha. This is basically pure filth there is legitimately 1% plot. Feedback is always welcome, and requests are open!! Tags: not tagging anyone as I'm not sure who is 18+!

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“You’re kidding, right?” George asks Y/N as she comes down the stairs from his flat into the shop. He lets his eyes rake over every inch of Y/N’s body and he can’t seem to look away. She’s wearing a burnt orange silk camisole top that’s tucked into the tightest and shortest pair of denim shorts George has ever seen. Her top exposes the tops of her breasts, and her long hair is tied up, leaving her shoulders and neck bare to the world.

“What?” Y/N asks in her most innocent voice. But the smirk on her face tells George that she knows exactly what she’s doing.

George hooks his fingers in the beltloops of Y/N’s shorts and pulls her into a hard kiss. “You know what. You look so fucking sexy in that outfit, Y/N,” he compliments as his lips trail kisses down her neck. “Which means it pains me to say this, but you have to go upstairs and change.”

“But Georgie,” Y/N whines, causing George to chuckle against her skin. “It’s so hot in here, I’m gonna sweat to death if I wear anything else.”

George sighs as he pulls away from Y/N’s neck and he rubs his thumb on her bottom lip to pull it from between her teeth. It’s puffier than usual when it snaps back into place, and it nearly kills George not to shove Y/N to her knees so he can feel it wrapped around his cock. It also kills him to admit that she’s right. It’s the middle of July, and Britain is in the middle of the worst heat wave it’s ever seen. Despite the air conditioning and the fans George has set up all over the place, the heat is still present, and it’ll only get worse when people start to enter the shop.

“I guess you’re right,” he drawls, giving in to her. “And you are doing me a huge favor by helping out while Fred’s out of town.” They’ve got a potential new investor located in Scotland, and with the shop getting busier each week and their plans to add a few new product lines over the coming months they’re in need of some extra money to do some expansions to their property.

Y/N squeals happily and pulls George down into a brief kiss. “You’re the best, Georgie.” Y/N leans up, so her lips are just barely brushing George’s ear lobe. “And I’ll be sure to show you how thankful I am for your generosity later,” she whispers.

Y/N’s voice is sultry, and it causes a shiver to run down George’s spine, his cock twitching in his trousers. “Can’t wait.” George kisses Y/N deeply for a few moments, swatting her ass as he pulls away. “Now go unlock the door so we can get this workday started.”

“Yes sir,” Y/N responds with a wink before heading off to the door to prevent George from spanking her again.

-

Turns out Y/N’s teasing from this morning was just a hint of what she had in store for him throughout the day. It started off as just a few glances here and there with Y/N using her best come fuck me look, which she knows drives George up the wall. When George started refusing to meet her gaze, Y/N stepped it up a notch. She took every opportunity to get close to George so that her fingers could lightly graze some part of his body. The tips of her fingers would slowly graze his back whenever she passed by him, her nails lightly grazing his arm as they reached for a product on the same shelf. Goosebumps would erupt on George’s skin with each touch, and Y/N reveled in every shiver she sent down his spine.

When George started to dodge her physical advances, Y/N decided to get creative. Every time she found herself in front of George she’d bend over to tie her shoe, or to grab a product from a shelf, the reason didn’t really matter to her. All that mattered is that George was getting the perfect view of her smooth thighs and round ass, his favorite places to touch her. Every time she bent over Y/N could feel George’s intense gaze, sending shivers through her core. Y/N also takes every opportunity she has to reach over George, allowing her to practically shove her cleavage into his face. The feeling of his hot breath fanning over her skin causes arousal to pool in her stomach and every time she walks away her eyes linger on him, watching as his hand adjusts his erection in his trousers. At one-point Y/N even pretends to give herself a papercut, and she watches George practically drool when she brings her finger to her lips and slowly sucks on it, as if she’s trying to soothe the wound.

“Are you trying to kill me?” George asks quietly as he comes to stand next to Y/N. He was barely able to focus on working with how turned on he’d become, so he forced Y/N to work the till, figuring it would give him a break from her torturous teasing. But of course, Y/N had somehow managed to make handling coins erotic, and George is just as hard in his trousers as he had been when he first sent her behind the counter.

Y/N looks up at George from under her eyelashes, and she has to bite her lip to keep from moaning when his eyes darken even more. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. I’m just doing my job.”

“Fucking hell, Y/N,” George groans, his voice deep. He’s so hard he feels like he might burst out of his trousers, and he makes sure no one is around before grabbing Y/N’s hand and slowly bringing it to his crotch. “See what you do to me?” He lets out a quiet gasp as Y/N starts to palm his erection and his knuckles start to turn weight from how hard he’s gripping the counter.

“George,” Y/N moans breathily. His free hand has started to massage one of her bum cheeks and her eyes are trained on the hand he has on the counter, mesmerized by the way the veins pop out. Y/N presses her thighs together to get some relief on her aching pussy as she imagines those fingers pumping in and out of her and her free hand grabs George’s collar so she can pull his face down to hers. “I need you Georgie, please,” she begs into his ear. “Take me into the office, no one will notice we’re gone.”

George tuts and takes a large step away from Y/N, smirking when she whines. “Sorry, love. Gonna have to wait a bit longer for me to ruin you.”

Y/N glares at George’s back as he walks away to help a customer, not only frustrated that he got her all worked up for nothing, but that she’d lost her control over him as well. She starts to ring up a customer, a plan for dealing with George already forming in her head.

-

“Well hello there,” George greets with a chuckle as Y/N straddles his lap. He abandons what he’d been working on so he can push away from the desk, giving Y/N room to sit on him. His hands land on her ass and he starts to knead them slowly. “All closed up?”

Y/N hums as she pushes back into George’s hands and pulls him into a slow kiss. She lets him take control for now and opens her mouth to let his tongue in when he asks for permission. Y/N starts to grind her hips down against George’s, moaning into his mouth when his hips buck up to meet hers. “You were a bad boy earlier, Georgie,” she teases, letting her lips start to kiss down his neck. Due to the warm weather George lost his suit coat and tie hours ago, and Y/N starts to unbutton his collared shirt.

“Was I?” George asks, his hands wandering from Y/N’s ass to her hips so he can guide her grinding movements. Normally by now after a day of Y/N teasing him like she has been George would already have her on her knees choking on his cock as he fucks her throat. But she clearly has something planned, and George is excited to see where it goes.

“Oh yes,” Y/N confirms, pulling away from George slightly to examine the mark on his collarbone. She pushes his shirt open to expose his torso and she starts to lightly drag her nails up and down his flesh as her hips start to grind against him harder. “I was teasing you all day. And when I finally was gonna let you fuck me you didn’t.”

George uses his grip on Y/N’s hips to still her movement so his hips can rut up against her at his own pace. He’s been hard in his trousers since the day began, and he’s desperate for his release. Y/N twists one of his nipples with one hand while the other scratches down his chest, causing George to groan loudly. “Fuck, baby. I’m so sorry. Let me fuck you now. Make it up to you,” he pants.

“Sorry, Georgie,” Y/N chides. “Only good boys get to bury their cocks in my pussy.” She twists both of George’s nipples as his hips thrust up against her, moaning at the guttural noise it rips from his throat. “Bad boys have to cum in their trousers.”

“Fucking hell, Y/N,” George moans. George can feel his cock pulsing in his trousers, and he’s embarrassed to admit that he can feel his orgasm building from dry humping Y/N alone. It makes him feel like a desperate teenager all over again, and Y/N’s manipulations on his chest only turn him on further.

Y/N leans down to suck a mark into George’s collarbone, one of her hands twisting and pinching his nipple while the other tangles in the hair at the base of his neck. “Making such pretty noises, Georgie,” Y/N teases, trailing kisses back up his neck towards his mouth. George’s jaw is slack, breathy moans and pants coming out at their own will. She pinches his nipple and tugs on his hair at the same time and the noise he makes goes right to her core.

“Please,” George begs, not really sure what he’s asking Y/N for. He tightens his grip on her hips, and he’s sure that there will be bruises there tomorrow.

“Come on, Georgie, use your words,” Y/N teases, pulling on George’s hair again. “Look at you. So desperate and needy just from humping me. You can’t even string a sentence together.” She bites her lip, watching as George’s eyes flutter shut when she tugs on his hair again. “Are you gonna come in your trousers for me, Georgie?”

George nods wildly, his hips stuttering when Y/N twists his nipple. “So fucking close,” he pants, pulling Y/N down against him harder for more friction. “Am I your good boy? Please, Y/N. Wanna be your good boy.”

Y/N can feel her wetness dripping into her panties and if George didn’t look and sound so hot as he writhes underneath her she’d be pulling his cock out and riding him until they both finish. “Look at me, George.” When George’s eyes open Y/N pinches his nipple and tugs his hair at the same time, a shiver running down her spine at the whine he lets out. “Being such a good boy for me, Georgie,” she praises. “You like being my good boy, don’t you?”

“God yes, Y/N. Love being a good boy for you.” George can feel his orgasm approaching, and his hips start to move against Y/N faster as he chases his release. “Y/N,” he moans, his hips stuttering as he starts to release inside of his boxers. George can feel his cock twitching, and he keeps slowly rolling his hips to help him through his climax.

“That’s it, Georgie. Make your boxers all messy for me. Such a good boy,” Y/N coos, stroking George’s hair. She presses soft kisses all over George’s face, whispering words of praise as she does.

When George’s breathing starts to return to normal he stills his hips, slightly uncomfortable from the sticky mess in his boxers, but still turned on at the same time. He slaps Y/N’s bare thigh hard, and his cock twitches at the moan she lets out. “All that teasing and yet I’m the one who gets punished? Unbelievable.”

Y/N giggles and pulls their mouths together, kissing George hard. “Dunno if I’d call that punishment, Georgie, at least you got to finish. I’m dripping for you, and my little pussy is begging to be filled.”

George smirks, and Y/N squeals as he picks her up and places her back down on top of his desk. “Let’s change that then.”

[wolf-and-bard]

The Geraskier (and Lambden) H2O: Just Add Water AU of my dreams (bc Mermay is almost over and I haven’t done a thing for it and putting Geraskier into my favourite teenage shows is too much fun; this got long and messy):

-Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert grew up on the coast of Australia on an estate that is very big and private with its own sectioned-off part of the beach; among all their surfer kid school friends they are definitely the outcasts; they keep to themselves a lot and everyone thinks it’s because of their overprotective father who keeps them from throwing the best parties and also doesn't want them to go out into the ocean or have swimming lessons

-Vesemir is overprotective, but not for the reason everyone thinks; whenever he and/or his boys come into contact with water, they turn into mer-boys, complete with shimmering golden tails; he hoped this genetic oddity would pass them by, but it didn’t and so he taught them to be very careful for fear of them getting hurt

-they all cope with this in different manners: Geralt and Eskel mostly use their ability to do good; they protect little turtles from falling prey to predators, they collect trash from the bottom of the ocean; they also wrestle in the water a lot; Lambert tries to forget this is a thing and stays as far away form any body of water as he can; he spends most of his time secluded in his room, listening to edgy grunge music; sometimes his brothers can lure him out for a round of waterball in their private pool

-Jaskier is one of the popular kids one grade below Geralt (together with Lambert). He always gets the lead role in theatre, he has dozens of friends and a cool band and his outfits are outrageously fashionable; he vlogs a lot, he vlogs so much that anyone who has half a mind to get invested in his life will know everything from his morning routine to the night cream he uses; his favourite cafeteria lunch, the name of his teddy bear and his least favourite cousin

-Jaskier is also determined to befriend Geralt and his bros; he grew up in the same street as them and ever since he discovered Instagram, he’s been dying to take some shots in that house; he’s been over once, when Vesemir made the mistake of inviting a few kids Lambert’s age to his birthday party which ended up in a cake-throwing disaster; little Jaskier thought it was a great idea to tow the garden hose in and clean everything which ruined Vesemir’s favourite rug and had Geralt turn into a mer-boy on the spot; needless to say, Jaskier attributes this memory to a fever dream

-So, Jaskier starts following Geralt and Eskel around (he knows he’ll have no luck with Lambert) and they brush him off every opportunity they get

-What Jaskier doesn’t realize is that Geralt is hardcore in love with him, like so much so that his poor teenage mind cannot stop producing hormones on overload; he spends a lot of time out in the depths to distract himself from this

-What Jaskier also doesn’t realize is that he is falling for Geralt; it’s only for the sake of the 'gram, he tells himself, and because his followers seem to love the chunky mysterious senior with his strangely white hair

-Jaskier’s followers figure it out, the whole school figures it out, Lambert and Eskel figure it out (Geralt lets the guy sit at their lunch table, of course they’re in love) and eventually, even Geralt figures it out. Only Jaskier doesn’t and Geralt has a big-ass secret to keep anyway

-and so, to get rid of his pent-up frustration, he dives deeper and deeper; Eskel starts to worry, Vesemir says it’s just a phase, Lambert plainly doesn’t care

-Speaking of: Aiden is the snarky rich kid / bully that spends way too much time obsessing over uncovering their secret (bc he thinks he’s smart and always thought something about Vesemir was weird and he doesn’t like how they make such a fuss over their privacy). when he invities the three to one of his pool parties, he tries everything to make them reveal what they have going on, but Geralt doesn’t even show and Eskel keeps disappearing to play with Aiden’s dog and so Aiden is stuck with Lambert whom he definitely has a crush on, but won’t ever admit it. they’re enemies, okay? there’s a lot of tension and they end up drunkenly making out behind garden shed, something they both regret in the morning; Lambert doesn’t leave his room for a week straight and feigns a flu so he doesn’t have to meet Aiden at school; Aiden and Jaskier are friends ofc

-one day at school Geralt and Jaskier hang out on the lunch break alone because Eskel’s on a zoo trip with his class and Lambert is avoiding Aiden so he spends all his time holed up beneath the seats of the football field writing angry poems; Jaskier’s forgotten to charge his camera battery so it’s just them, stealing fries off each other’s plates, actually talking for once and Geralt’s sweating because Jaskier sits so close their knees bump and he looks ridiculously cute in his pastel dungarees and there’s this spot of ketchup on his nose that Geralt’s just itching to reach out and wipe away

-Jaskier isn’t all that hungry and he watches Geralt devour a third slice of pizza when he remembers his stupid childhood fever dream; he tells Geralt all about it, the cake fight, the ensuing mess and how he distinctly remembers Geralt growing a fish-tail and flopping around on the living room floor while Vesemir was screaming at them all to get out. “Funny, isn’t it? What your brain can make up?”; Geralt turns chalk-white and splutters a fake laugh

-he isn’t at school the next day and neither are Eskel or Lambert

-nor the next

-they are all a bit afraid, cautious and they just need to spend a few days, just the four of them, throwing themselves into the waves and being free of the shackles of their secrets; they chase each other around, they play some water ball and Vesemir makes them hot cocoa and rubs them dry the way he used to when they were younger and still unable to handle their transformation well

-as he does this, Vesemir thinks about moving somewhere more secure where there are less people, but he can’t take the boys’ life away; Geralt is clearly happy with Jaskier, Lambert’s coming around to opening up to someone, even if that someone is a giant asshole, and Eskel’s too easily unsettled to move elsewhere

-by the third day the boys don’t appear at school - and answer none of his texts - Jaskier gets unsettled; his followers urge him to just go and visit Geralt (they also finally enlighten Jaskier about his own feelings) and Jaskier does. thankfully, his camera is still uncharged and he forgot his phone at home or he would have filmed what he saw as he climbed their garden fence very ungracefully (no one opened the door)

-Geralt went too far out, too deep and got caught in the undertow of some massive waves, then was pulled under and cut himself on some rocks; Jaskier just about catches Eskel and Lambert dragging their brother ashore, his tail flopping helplessly; there’s blood washing away in the waves; Geralt’s eyes are closed and Jaskier understands with rare clarity that somehow this is his fault

-he hurtles towards Geralt, kicking up mud, so afraid that Geralt is going to die and as he does so he calls for Geralt, ignores Lambert’s curses and Eskel’s glower. They gently lower Geralt to the sand where the other two are out of reach of the hungry waves and Lambert runs for Vesemir, Eskel crouches down by Geralt’s tail, inspecting his wounds; meanwhile Jaskier is completely unfazed by the mer-boy thing, he simply drags Geralt’s head onto his lap and strokes his hair, apologizing over and over

-once Geralt is transformed back into human form, his wounds are patched up and Vesemir has given him a thorough lecture, he and Jaskier cuddle on the back porch couch and Jaskier keeps altering between laughing and crying; it’s ridiculous, Geralt is a mer-boy, but also he looked so fragile being hauled out of the water and Jaskier just loves him so fucking much

-and Geralt loves him back. and that’s how a spot of angst orchestrates their happily ever after

-meanwhile Aiden finds out when he has Lambert over for some making out one day and thinks it’s a funny idea to deposit his not-boyfriend in the pool mid-kiss; Lambert just floats in the pool, arms crossed, tail beating, waiting for Aiden to call the cops on him, but Aiden is super turned on and jumps in the pool with him and there’s more making out

THE END

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars • 06

Pairings: Sirius Black x [F]Reader, Remus Lupin x [F]Reader Content: Language, possible errors, music snob!Remus,  Author’s notes: song used: Come Together by The Beatles

BTW: I always try to use little to no physical descriptions for the reader insert but I did add that the reader has some sort of hair. I didn't mention hair texture or length (Sorry if ur bald). My taller readers, I only mentioned that you were shorter than Remus (no height was given)

Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 6: ABBA vs. The Beatles 

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“Merlin’s beard! Binns is a sadist; torturing students must be his only pastime,” James yawned, taking his glasses off to rub his eyes.

Nothing could ever compare to the History of Magic. Today, lessons were dreadful and muddy. Professor Binns’ monotone voice filtered throughout the class, rambling on and on about various dates in history. Hardly anyone paid attention before he started calling on students. Annoyed, Binns would continue to reiterate his inquiry until the student(s) got the correct answer, no matter how long it took.

A sadist indeed.

Although Binns wasn’t the sole reason why the class was pathetic, but rather the lack of any practical work was simply a joke. The class only reminded Y/N of her short time in public school. Geometry? Utterly useless for any daily life interactions. To make matters worse, Binns surprised the class with a pop-quiz and two chapters of reading. Luckily, he had an ounce of mercy in his ghostly body and dismissed the class early for lunch.

James continued, “I would rather fight a dragon than — Woah! Your hair! “

She glanced to look at herself through the reflection in James’ glasses. Her hair, which originally was emerald green, was now turning into a golden yellow. The different colours clashed together boldly.

“You look like the banner for the Holyhead Harpies,” Peter said, striding up to James’ side.

“The Holyhead Harpies,” James said dreamily, “They’re probably one of my favourite teams.

Remus, who had been trailing behind Peter jumps in, “You only like them because they’re all women, you wanker.” He turns to Peter, his hand shooting up to the side of his head, massaging small circles into his temples, “Why’d you get him going?”

James became insufferable whenever someone or something mentioned Quidditch. Not only would he boast about his abilities as a Chaser, but he seemingly was a never-ending encyclopedia about Quidditch. It only worsened as November neared, the start of the new Quidditch season was approaching.

One time Y/N found herself stuck listening to him babble about Ireland winning the world cup for about thirty minutes. She didn’t have the heart to stop him, though. Nobody listened to his rants and he could hardly contain his excitement. How could she tell him she wasn’t interested?    

A monstrous smirk etched its way onto his face, “Caught me.”

“Be anymore of a predator would ya, Prongs?”

“Hey! That’s not the only reason why I like them. Did you forget their victory in 1953 against the Heidelberg Harriers? Their strategy was blood-fucking-brilliant. They’re legendary! My father was there to see it in person. Lucky bastard. He told me…”

His voice fades into the background as Y/N catches Remus’ eyes. A glint of mischief shined through them before he forced a fake pitiful smile. He mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ to her before looping his arm around Peter’s shoulder, discreetly leaving James’ side and out of the classroom.

That sly, slippery bastard.  

"— and did I mention that their seeker was one of the most sought out —”

“Wait, James.”

He abruptly pauses, waiting patiently for her to continue. She leads them out into the corridor and towards the great hall. “Sorry, didn’t mean to cut you off like that, but when is my hair going back to normal?”

Y/N instantly regretted mentioning her hair. There was no trace of a smile on James. His shoulders slumped a bit and his walking even staggered. “Godric, I know, I know and I’m sorry. I thought it would have returned back to normal by now. I’ve been creating reversal spells — even started asking Moony to help.”

“Moony?”

“Remus.”

“Another one of your nicknames?”

“It’s not a nickname! It’s a brotherhood — a pack!”

“Oh, sorry Prongs,” she drawled, a sarcastic smile on her face, “If I didn’t know you I would assume you were an asshole.”

“What? How?!”

“You go around calling yourself a marauder, the king of Quidditch and now Prongs. Seems pretty assholely.”

James’ mouth opens before closing again, repeating the process several times.

“Plus, you pull silly pranks every day.”

He chuckles, “Oi! You helped us with that itching idea!”

Her eyebrows raised in acknowledgement, “Touché.”

To this, James shakes his head, directing the conversation back to the Holyhead Harpies. Inwardly, Y/N wanted to whack him with a broomstick.

They were among the first students to reach the Great Hall, aside from students who had a free or were excused early by Professor Binns. None of the girls were there yet. Unfortunately, Marlene was held back by Binns, so Y/N was left to sit beside James who sat opposite to Remus, Peter and Sirius.

She had been trying her best to avoid Sirius whenever she could. It was clear he didn’t like her. He never laughed whenever she made a joke, he hardly noticed her, he never praised her, even if she tried to compliment him. He was just rude for no apparent reason. The rest of the marauders and girls knew this, although they preferred not to comment about the obvious, strained relationship (which they didn’t even know the reason for. Granted, Y/N wasn't quite sure herself. Was it the rejection, he just didn't like her or is just an ass?).

Although, ignoring and avoiding him proved to be extremely challenging. Y/N was glued to Lily’s hip ever since the Sorting Ceremony. It also didn’t help that if you were with one marauder, another one was sure to follow. She and James started to spend more time with each other, and by extension, she was obligated to be around at least one other marauder. With the addition of study sessions with Remus, it was inevitable.

Surprisingly, Sirius hadn’t made any snarky remarks, excluding dirty looks, he was being… nice — nicer to her. The action was a stark contrast from his previous behaviour and she speculated a few reasons why:

Most likely, James or Lily, she assumed the former, said something to him. Since his little spat with James at breakfast a few weeks ago, Sirius was tight-lipped ever since.

Maybe he was done being a prick, deciding to stop by himself after realizing he was a prick.

Went through something personal, it stopped, and his behaviour improved.

Minutes after the bell rang, students began to trickle in for lunch. The comfortable chatter rose as Y/N finished eating an apple. Everyone seemed pleased when James’ Quidditch lecture was interrupted as hundreds of owls streamed in, packages and letters dropping into the laps of students. She hadn’t expected anything considering her owl, Celeste, didn’t drop anything off since the first week of October. However, today she fluttered down between the bread and fruit bowls, dropping off several letters and a small parcel onto Y/N’s plate, pecking at the bread crumbs on the table. She tore the letter open, inside it said:

Dear Y/N,  

Are you still having a hard time with Charms? If so, perhaps I find some textbooks and send them over.  

Don’t slack off this year. Send me a letter whenever you have the chance. (Make sure to tell Celeste to be quieter next time. You know I can, and never will get used to the owls.)  

Mom  

Her mother finally wrote to her. A sense of joy flooded her body as she placed the letter back down on the oak table. A part of her wondered if Celeste was dropping off her letters to the wrong house, the one back in Toronto as her mother never wrote back. She opened the next letter, immediately recognizing the messy scrawl:

October 19, 1975  

Y/N! I thought you replaced me with one of your brits, but a false alarm, your letters just take a while to arrive. Must be tiring for Celeste to travel to and from Scotland then America and back. You know, whenever people see her fly in, they still recognize her.  

Are you doing anything for Halloween? We’re throwing another dance. Going to be alone this year now that I can’t force you to come. I guess I’ll just watch half the school dry hump each other while I smuggle in firewhiskey.

How’s it going over there? I heard from a few students, even read in the papers about the war. It’s getting pretty crazy over here. Teachers have been meeting and trying to prevent students and parents from losing their shit. My mom has been worried too, writing to me like a lunatic and I’m not even in the UK. The MACUSA have been keeping quiet but they were caught having meetings with counsellors from the Ministry of Magic. Even heard that Jenkins is stepping down. If it keeps getting out of hand here, I can’t imagine what it must be like at Hogwarts. I truly thought the war was dying down, I was wrong. Keep your wand close. Surely, you’ll get away with a hex or two.

Until next time

Matthew G.  

So engrossed in her new environment, her old life slipped to the back of her mind. There was a detachment from her reality compared to the one at home. A pang of guilt hit her, swallowing her up from the inside out until another pang hit, loneliness. If she easily forgot everyone, would anyone remember her? None of her old friends, apart from Matthew, had made a move to contact her since she left.

Often thinking about writing them first, she had to remind herself if they wanted to, they would. Especially with the knowledge that people still recognized Celeste.

Was she forgettable and if so, was it karma for forgetting too?

It put a mechanical vice grip on her heart, applying just enough pressure to be a constant reminder. With every beat, it tightened more and more.

Looking around the table, she saw her peers huddle in groups, familiar laughter ringing throughout. So noisy, so taunting. She may have been friends with Lily, Dorcas, James or even Marlene, but they had their own friends. Friendships that had years to develop before she came. She had only known them for less than two months.

Forgettable.

How hilarious, she thought.

“Hey,” a gentle voice cooed into her ear, “Are you okay?”

She hummed back absentmindedly.

James wore a concerned expression, his eyes knitted together, one raised higher than the other like it always does when he was worried. The look he shot her suggested he wasn’t convinced, although he didn’t press; instead opting to stir the conversation. “So, who wrote to you?”

“A friend and my mom —”

A snort so loud that it caused the rest of the marauders, random onlookers and even Lily (who had a look of pure disgust on her face) turned towards them. “What did you say?”

“I got a few letters?”

“No!” He bellowed, “Who sent you them?”

“My friend and my mom —”

Nearly choking on his sandwich, James clutched his stomach laughing. Laughing so hard he has to grip the table to prevent falling off the hall bench. "Haha! Mom?! MOM?” He mocked in a poor American accent, “What the fuck is mom? It’s MUM. Bollocks!”

“We say vitamin.”

“It’s VIT-A-MIN! Who says VIGHT-A-MIN?” Without a pause, James presses his entire body onto her shoulder, smushing her before grabbing the letter her mother sent her. His eyes scanned across the pages before hitting a certain word. “Back home? Maple trees? Where did you use to live exactly?”

“Canada.”

“Canada?! You don’t mean those snowy gits?” At this, Peter and Remus snort under their breaths. Even Lily had to force down a smile.

Staring deadpanned at him, in an unamused voice, “Really?”

“You are a bundle of surprises! I thought you lived… I’m not sure. I assumed somewhere like New Hork.”

“York,” Lily corrects.

“Tomato, tomato,” he jokes, playfully batting his eyes at Lily before biting into his sandwich, “You do live in London, right?”

“Right.”

James takes a moment, letting the conversation die down before he quickly glances at Y/N again. An undecipherable expression crosses his face before it’s promptly replaced with elation, “I take back anything negative I’ve said about Canada. They have an amazing Quidditch rooster. Have you gone to any of their games?”

A low grumble of sighs follows at the mention of Quidditch from James. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Remus shake his head and sighed dejectedly.

“Nah, I’m a New-Maj, remember? My mom — “

“Mum —”

“ — sorry, Mum — hardly understands the wizarding world, let alone what Quidditch is.”

His eyes were wide, whimsical, as a hand flew to his chest dramatically, “Rubbish! Bloody ridiculous! You’ve never seen a real Quidditch game? One day, I swear I’ll bring you to one! Or you can bring me to Canada one day and we can watch a home game!”

As James continued to rant, Y/N’s mind slowly drifted back to the bitterness in her chest. Trying to distract herself, she borrowed Lily’s quill and a few sheets of parchment, scribbling down letters in response.

Mom,  

I’m fine with Charms, you don’t need to send anything. And don’t worry, I’ve been studying for my OWLs.  

Love you, write soon.

The next letter was addressed to Matthew:

Matty Matt,

Of course, I didn’t replace you… yet. 

Another dance? You would think the students’ protest last year would have influenced the professors this time. I guess it’s time for you to get wasted. I didn’t tell you last time but I think I’m going to a party. A friend of mine is throwing it and I know he’s going to force me to come no matter what. He briefly mentioned costumes and drinks. Plus, there’s going to be some kind of prank that I may or may have not been a part of? Sounds cool right?  

Yeah, I’d say it’s been bad up here. I don’t know much about what's going on outside of school, though. The professors are hiding it well. I didn’t even hear about Jenkins stepping down. Keep me updated.  

Until next time  

She sealed the letters before sending Celeste off again, “Be quieter when you drop off the letters, yeah?”

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

It must be her lucky day.

The ringing of the bell went off, signalling the end of class. Professor Flitwick asked the students to stay behind so he could hand out quizzes the students completed on Monday in preparation for their upcoming test on Growth and Reductor charms the following Tuesday.

It was never a good sign when a professor flips your test over to prevent other students from seeing their mark. Flipping it over at a downwards angle, Flitwick handed Y/N her quiz.

Turning it over nervously, a tight coil formed in the pit of her stomach. A large P was plastered on the top right corner in bold red ink. She studied hard for this too. Angrily, she shoved her work into her bag and left the class. This was the third poor she'd gotten in a row. She should have told her mother she needed those Charm books.

“I swear I’m going mad! Her brother is a complete cow! He even — are you listening?”

She looks at the girl beside her, Marlene. Her glossed over, doe eyes must have served as an answer before the blonde shook her head.

“Sorry, distracted,” she mumbles, before forcing out a fake-happy tone, “Continue your story! I wanna hear!”

“Hey,” Marlene says in a softer voice, “If something’s bothering you, you can talk about it.”

“No, it’s okay,” she replies instinctively. She felt bad spacing out during Marlene’s story but her mind was running through and under hoops. The last thing any fifth year student needed was to fall behind in their classes, let alone feeling like nobody cared about them.

At that moment, she wished she was wrapped away in red and gold blankets to wallow in her self-pity party, away from prying eyes. She could feel the burning sensations of tears building up.

Dammit.

Y/N looked out the window to her left. The sky was melting with the warm hues of reds and yellows while the other half was being slowly engulfed into a cloak of twilight. Even from here, she could feel the cool air seeping in from the windows making her tug on the sleeves of her robes.

She continued, “I’m just tired — been a long day. I’m going to take a nap before dinner. See you.”

Judging by the look on Marlene and Lily’s face, guilt riddles her body. They both look sympathetic. The pity only made Y/N feel disgusting. In all honesty, Y/N will care later. Right now wasn’t the time and she desperately needed some shut-eye.

Before she left the room, she overheard them talking.

“What’s up with her?”

“Dunno.”

Great.

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

Sleep did little to ease her thoughts.

The same uneasiness she felt on the train ride to Hogwarts settled deep into her bones again. She thought she was past this. The worrying about friends, missing home, feeling alone, failing class, stressing about her future. The rational part of her brain knew it was just one silly quiz (and old shitty friends), but knowing herself, if she were to continue to have this mindset, she would only fail in the end.

Dinner ended and Y/N belligerently climbed up the stairs towards the library to attend today’s study session. The Charms quiz threw her into a loop and it was better not to dwell on it, opting to rather use her time for something useful.

Her marks improved significantly since she attended her first session two weeks ago. The last couple of assignments and quizzes she handed in that she worked on during the groups were some of her best work, ever. Additionally, her ability to retain information was improving at astonishing rates and she found herself participating in lessons more often. Unfortunately, she started to doubt her abilities again.

There weren’t as many students as usual. Perhaps it was because of the Quidditch meeting for all teams tonight, or because nobody wanted to spend their time in a library Friday night. She assumed it was the latter.

Although, the same student with black hair from Slytherin was there; tucked away in his usual corner. He was always there. Whether it was the study sessions, another OWL or NEWT student or he simply just enjoyed the library, Y/N could always rely on him sitting there in his little nook.

In the far back, surrounded by tall bookshelves sat Remus. Another student, a first or second year, judging by their height, seemed to be asking him a question, rapidly writing down something on a piece of parchment whilst they walked away. Remus leaned back in the brown chair, his right leg was folded over the other as he stretched.

She spent over twelve hours minimum with Remus directly since the first session, minus the time he was around James and the girls. Perhaps she only started to notice afterwards but she swore Remus wasn’t around this much before. Now, he was everywhere.

In the past couple of weeks she’d gotten to know him, she made a mental list in her head of him:

1. Remus loves sweaters. They weren’t flashy, seemingly preferring to wear ones with small designs, stripes or a solid colour. He wore green the most. He also wore cardigans. Two, in particular, he wore the most; one was white and the other was a muted brown. They were big and hung off his loose frame, the pockets were often stuffed with books, rumpled parchment and his wand.

2. He’s a coffee addict. He drank it in the morning, the afternoon, at the study session and sometimes with meals at dinner. He loved to dump pounds of sugar, so if he only drank black coffee, it usually meant he was in a bad mood. James even joked that he became Sirius whenever he drank black coffee, because haha! Get it? It’s BLACK coffee!

3. He frequented the library whenever he wasn’t with the rest of the marauders. He enjoyed poetry, wrote post-it notes after post-it notes to annotate his favourite parts. He even slept there from time to time, not without having to persuade Pince to not give him detention.

As if Remus magically sensed her, he took a large inhale before he stopped stretching, opening his eyes to look at her. A small smile was plastered on each other’s faces. He stuck up a few fingers to wave at her, motioning her to come over.

“Hi Y/N. I thought you didn’t come on Fridays?”

“I don’t but I have a test, Charms, Tuesday.”

“Oh, well I’m happy to help.”

“Thanks for the offer, Professor Lupin, but just being down here will help me focus.”

A scarlet blush settled on his face at the mention of his tutoring. “Well come sit with me then.”

Pushing the chair out of the way, she sat down beside him, pulling out her cassette player and earbuds along with her notes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Remus staring at the player curiously.

“Do you want to listen?”

“If you don't mind. I didn’t know you could use these here.” Picking it up, he turned the rectangular device.

“If record players work here, why not this?”

She hands him an earbud, alongside a small collection of other tapes she had on hand.

“Choose whatever you want to listen to.”

Without much thought, he pressed the play button. The upbeat tune of Waterloo by ABBA trickled into their ears. Y/N bobbed her head up and down before the song was suddenly stopped.

A sour grimace sat on Remus’ face before their eyes met, his nose upturned slightly.

“Why’d you stop it?”

“I hate ABBA.”

“What!?”

“I just don’t like their cheesy disco-pop-esk sound. They sound generic and random words are thrown in when they don’t add to the song.”

“Jeez— never met anyone who hated them that much.”

A ghost of a smile appeared before he flicked through her collection of tapes. He picked up Abbey Road by The Beatles. Opening the player up, he slid out Waterloo. With a click and the press of a button, Come Together played.

“So you hate ABBA but not The Beatles? Benny and Bjorn said they were influenced by them!”

“Keyword: Influenced; which is just another word for a shitty knock-off version.”  

4. Remus Lupin is apparently a music snob.

“Well, I think both are good.”

“Respectfully, I disagree with you.”

“Whatever you say, professor.”  

"I've been thinking a bit, why did you come to Hogwarts? Why not just stay at your old school?"

The sudden switch of topics threw her into a loop. “Wasn’t by choice. My mom’s a doctor and got a position here. It was too good to turn down. But it’s not bad. There’s less wizarding laws.”

He nods his head, "I'm assuming you have dual citizenship?"

"Mhm."

About a half an hour passed as she sighed for the umpteenth time before putting down her quill. Her chair scraped back noisily as Y/N’s hand balled up into a tight fist, feeling her fingernails bite into her palm. She’d been flicking through her notes, the words all blended.

At this rate, if History of Magic didn’t exist, Charms would surely be her least favourite class.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

She was at a loss, this was the third time Remus had offered to help and he was persistent. She felt horrible that she was taking up his time to help her on a stupid Charms test.

He continued, “If you think bothering me is an issue, it’s not. I run the sessions on Friday. It’s my job.”

“Fine, but there has to be something I can do in return.”

“Hmm,” Remus pondered for a second, “How about this, I tutor you in Charms and in return you give me your Potions notes? I'm dreadful at it.”

“Deal.”

“Great. Before we start, is there anything in particular that you have questions on?”

Silently tapping on the quiz she received today, Remus snatched it and quickly scanned over her answers and Professor Flitwick’s notes.

“I see what happened. You know, the curriculum taught at Ilvermorny is different. That’s probably why you can’t understand some of this shit.” He cleared his throat, “So as we know, the growth charm increases the size of your intended target…”

His voice, like a light switch, changed instantly. Instead of his softer deep, raspier voice, it became commanding and steady. He never stumbled over his words and articulated his points elegantly. She found herself enraptured by him, understanding why he was in charge of the study groups.

Eventually, Remus takes a pause, “Does that make sense?”

“Yes. You know, you’re really good at this. No matter how much I asked Flitwick or even Lily I could never get it.”

A large blush bloomed on the apples of his cheeks before he shyly rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes. “I’m not that good.”

“No time for modesty, Professor Lupin!”

“Okay, okay! So here, do you see what went wrong? There would be a reaction with those two spells if —”

A boy, small, most likely a second year, stood at the foot of the shared table holding a large red and gold book. His hair, dark ginger, similar to Lily’s, was cut short. He fiddled with his fingers as he continued to stare at the two.

“... Um, hi. You're Remus — right?”

“Yup. Did you need help with something?”

“Yes! I’m having trouble with the Transfiguration spell, beetle into button.”

A look of understanding passed through his face before Remus turns to look at her, “Duty calls. It’ll be quick.”

“Of course, take your time.”

It was not quick. Understandably, very few were successful at the ginger’s age to perform the spell, but thirty minutes passed and the second year still didn’t understand the basic concepts. No matter how many times Remus had reiterated his point differently, the boy couldn’t retain it.

“I just don’t get it.”

“You learned this last year, it's a quick revision. I’m not sure what part you’re talking about. Look, do not wiggle or twirl your wand left, direct it towards the right. You have to picture the spell in your head before saying the incantation.”

He guided the boy's hand steadily before performing the spell himself.

“I don’t understand!” The boy whined.

He sighed, “Then we keep trying —”

“It’s too hard. Why are they teaching this crap anyway?”

“Could you stop complaining?” He snapped, closing his eyes before he realized what he’d just done. “I’m sorry about that. I’m… just tired. I can’t help you anymore, though. You should ask someone else,” Remus said brusquely, his eyes unnerving as he stared at the child. As a result, he yelped out a ‘thank you,’ rushing off in the opposite direction.

The muscles in his jaw tensed under the soft glow of the table lamps. There was a pale red tint rimming his eyes and he looked visibly paler than normal. Irritated, he bounced his knee rapidly, up and down, before looking out the large window beside them. The sky was mostly cloudy. Only the peak of the silvery moon appeared. A sliver was missing before it was fully complete.

He closed his eyes, before breathing in. His posture once stiffened, completely relaxed before a flimsy smile reappeared on his face, returning his attention to Y/N.

“Let’s continue, shall we?”

“If you’re tired we can stop.”

“No, s’okay. I’m fine — really.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek, adding to her list:

5. Remus was always so hard to read.

[candycityy]

Ooh rivetra and 20 or 76 (or both if you want to ;)) for the Drabble prompts pleeeease 🧡🖤

Note: I did both because what can I say, I love a challenge, hehehe. I hope you like it!

References this earlier drabble.

(You can also read this on AO3!)

So here's the thing, right. For all his flaws—and he does have flaws, no matter what the fawning masses think—Levi isn't stupid.

Sure, he's not probably not cut out for the rarefied, upper-crust intelligentsia that Erwin Smith moves in. And sure, certain idiots of the variety of Hanji Zoë might swear on their dying breaths that he's all brawn and no brain, et cetera, but the truth is, he's got enough street smarts and common sense that most people conveniently overlook his awful social skills.

And that means that contrary to popular belief, Levi doesn't totally suck at social events. The Sina elite tend to misread his frosty bluntness and lack of etiquette as a refreshing, man-on-the-street brand of humour. Which, well, whatever works, he supposes.

Unfortunately, as a matter of consequence, that means that even with a hyperactive three-year old at home, Erwin had point-blank refused to let him off for this year's Midwinter Ball. He'd given him leave for the past few since Ava was still far too young to be left alone at home, but judging by the commander's expression, he's just about exhausted his excuses.

"You know the state of our finances, Levi," he'd said, cerulean eyes earnest and entreating. "We need every coin we can get. And, well, you're always quite popular at these balls, being humanity's strongest and all—not accounting for taste, of course—"

"Oi!"

The commander'd smirked, but his expression had faded back to solemnity quickly enough. "We need you there, Levi. I won't make it an order, but consider it...a personal request. Please?"

Levi'd grumbled under his breath. "Whatever. I'll go, I'll go, just stop looking at me like that," he'd barked.

Erwin had smiled. "I knew I could count on you, Levi."

Cut to the present. It's just past six o'clock, the winter sky only now beginning to darken into a somewhat forbidding shade of violet-grey. He's already dressed in his standard black suit, pacing back and forth the small living room, his eyes darting to the clock every few seconds.

Petra, who's in the midst of removing the curlers from her hair, shoots him an irritated look. "Would you calm down," she hisses, "you're driving me crazy. And Ava's going to pick up on it too, you know."

They both glance at their daughter, who's serenely colouring in a picture in crayon at the other end of the room. The three-year-old is Petra in miniature, from her wide eyes right down to her peaches-and-cream complexion. With just one exception: her hair is just a touch darker than her mother's: more cinnamon than honey.

Levi runs a hand through his hair. "Why aren't they here yet?" he says, for the third time that night.

"Because we told them to come at half past," Petra replies, with somewhat less patience than she'd ordinarily have. "Now get over here and help me do up my necklace, would you."

The metal is cold to the touch, but Petra just smiles softly as he clasps the necklace behind her neck with deft fingers. "Remember our first Midwinter Ball?" she reminisces. "That was pretty fun, wasn't it?"

"Fun for you, maybe," Levi says drily. "I was busy dragging Auruo off the dance floor after he puked and blacked out, remember?"

She giggles. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that part. But still, that was when we danced together for the first time." They fall into a comfortable, nostalgic silence, and finally, he sighs.

"I still don't like leaving her alone," he mutters.

"It's hardly the first time," Petra says gently.

"I know, but it's the first time we'll be so far from her. And for so long, too—a whole night." His eyes turn contemplative. "Maybe I could just ride back, after the ball—if the weather isn't bad—"

"Don't even think about it," she says sharply. "The roads aren't safe this time of year, especially not so late at night, there's too much ice. We'll be back in the morning, Levi. Don't worry so much."

He snorts. "Easier said than done. Why aren't they here yet?" he asks again. This time, Petra ignores him, instead turning back to the mirror and carefully applying lipstick with a practiced hand.

After the final step—dusting her cheeks with rose-tinted powder—she rises to her feet, doing a slow turn in her gown, a sleek, champagne-coloured affair with a fitted bodice and fluted sleeves, cut out of satin and embellished with tiny buttons down the front. Her delicately curled hair falls in soft waves to her collarbone, just brushing the front of her dress.

"What do you think?" she goes. Oblivious to his sullen silence, she juts out a hip and flutters her lashes at him coquettishly, an action which earns her an eye-roll.

"You're going to make everyone stare," he grumbles. She giggles.

"I have to keep your fangirls away, now don't I?" she teases, with a toss of her head. He's about to issue a retort when a knock comes at the door.

"Right on time, as usual," Petra declares. Levi just scowls.

He'd had been reluctant to get them back after the first disastrous incident, but Petra had insisted that they'd done a good job—"after all, Ava was perfectly fine, wasn't she?" As a result, Eren and Jean have become their go-to babysitters ever since. Levi's loath to admit it, but their daughter has warmed up to them. She's already toddling over to the door with a ready beam on her face, as the boys troop in through the door, faces flushed with the cold.

"Eren nii-chan! Jean nii-chan!" she chirps, plump arms outstretched. "Pick me up, pleaaaase?"

Eren breaks into a grin and obliges. His terror of Levi has subsided somewhat, although he still occasionally trips over his feet whenever he walks past, but he openly adores the toddler. Jean's a bit more reserved, but as Ava begins to babble cheerfully, his expression noticeably softens—even though he claims he's not a fan of babies, Levi suspects that he's secretly just as enamoured with Ava as his comrade is.

Of course, that only makes sense, considering that as far as Levi is concerned, Ava Ackerman is the cutest fucking baby on the planet.

Outside the door, there's the distant sound of approaching hooves pounding against cobblestone. Sensing a farewell, Petra sighs and leans over to give Ava one last hug, as Levi presses a gentle kiss to his daughter's cheek.

"We'll better be off," she says reluctantly. "Boys, thank you so much for taking care of Ava tonight. If anything goes wrong, you know what to do."

All four adults exchange grim, silent glances; they know what's coming next. Levi picks up his coat and shrugs it on. Petra wraps a scarf around her neck.

And with a sigh, they push the door open, and wait.

Three, two—

"Nooooo!"

Ava lets out a ear-splitting shriek, one that seems far too loud to come from such a small baby. Her eyes well up with anxious tears as she comes to the awful realisation that her parents are leaving without her, and she struggles desperately towards them, her face screwed-up and flushed with fury, as Eren doggedly tries to keep her from wriggling out of his arms. Beside him, Jean attempts in vain to ply her with sweets and toys, but she won't be soothed or distracted.

"No, no, no!" Ava wails. Her tiny fists pummel Eren's shoulder, who, to his credit, doesn't flinch, just hefts her up resignedly. "No go, no go! Stay!"

Petra sends him a warning look. And even as every atom of his body rebels against the thought of it...

Levi steps over the threshold, and into the wintry night air.

==

"Levi," Petra says patiently, "you're fidgeting."

She places a hand on his thigh, which, apparently, he'd been subconsciously jiggling all this while. Calming Ava down had taken about ten whole minutes, but Eren and Jean had finally managed to distract her with a game of hide-and-seek—her new favourite—and they'd quietly snuck onto the carriage before she could realise their trick.

They're barely more than a mile from home, but already being away from Ava feels like a piercing, physical pain in the front of his skull, a palpable anxiety that refuses to fade. Even Petra's presence, usually so comforting, doesn't soothe him in the slightest.

"Sorry," he mutters. "It's just—it's fucking terrifying, being a parent." His wife touches his cheek in silent commiseration, and they both sit in silence.

It's as perfect a night as it could ever be, in all honesty. The moon is full and bright, its silvery light beaming helpfully onto their path. The road is almost deserted this evening—Levi supposes most people would rather be safely tucked in the warmth of their homes, celebrating the holiday season with their own families instead of with dozens of expensively-attired strangers.

Fuck it all. Sensing his blood pressure rising, he takes a deep breath. The air is cool and dry and calming. Turning to stare out at the window, he listens to the rhythmic clickity-clack of the horses' hooves, their huffed pants of exertion, the metallic whine of the wheels—

Levi frowns. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Petra starts to ask, and then stills—this time, she'd heard it too. That high-pitched, bell-like sound, that sounds disturbingly like...

She swallows. "D-did you just make that noise?"

He stares at her drily. "I don't think my vocal chords could physically manage that."

"You don't think..." Her jaw drops, and she almost leaps towards the driver's seat in her urgency, startling the poor old man. "Excuse me! Stop the carriage, please!"

The horses have barely come to a halt when Levi disembarks from the carriage in one swift, fluid movement. He strides towards the back of the carriage, where, he knows, there's a small compartment built in, just large enough for their overnight bags and gear.

As well as—perhaps—a three-year-old toddler, if she were crouching quite close to the floor. Like, for instance, in a game of hide-and-seek.

His expression is grim as he tugs open the lid of the compartment. Behind him, Petra looks frozen, her face a mixture of trepidation and incredulity and just the tiniest hint of amusement.

The lid comes loose. "Daddy!" their irrepressible daughter exclaims, springing out of her crouching position. She giggles again, that familiar high-pitched, bell-like sound almost unnaturally loud in the silence of the night. "Mama! Ava came along!"

For a second, both parents are struck speechless as they stare at their cheerful stowaway in wordless horror.

Finally, Petra opens her mouth to speak.

"You don't say," she deadpans.

==

By the time they reach Sina, the ball has already started.

Of course, considering how they had to turn back around (much to the chagrin of the carriage-driver), tuck Ava very firmly into bed (it goes easier this time, considering how exhausted she is from the very dramatic game of hide-and-seek), reassure a terrified Eren and Jean that they're not mad (although Levi still isn't sure, to be honest), and allow them to resume sentry duty before leaving, he figures they actually made pretty good time.

Other than the very pointed, self-righteous look the doorman shoots them as they stumble into the hall, they manage to blend into the crowd with relative ease. They quickly touch base with the rest of the squad and collect two well-deserved flutes of wine before searching for Erwin, if only to reassure him that they did, in fact, come.

The commander is, of course, easy enough to spot, what with his stature and all. And although he initially looks mildly disapproving, his expression quickly turns wry once he hears the tale.

"That's quite a story," he says, nodding politely at a passing noblewoman, who blushes alluringly and bats her eyes. "Although, I suppose I should be glad you turned up at all, considering."

Petra giggles. "Touché. Although, maybe next year, we can bring her along. Wouldn't that be adorable?"

"Over my dead body," Levi says flatly. "But maybe next year, you'll let me stay home, Erwin."

The blonde man sighs and casts his eyes skyward. Around them, the party thrums cheerfully, soldiers mingling with nobles, careful words and casual touches exchanged over good dance and better drink. But although the atmosphere is thick with holiday cheer and inebriation, the commander seems wearily immune. "Maybe next year, I'll finally resign."

Levi snorts and lifts his wine-glass. "I'll toast to that."

Drabble challenge!

[dreamescapeswriting]

[21:48] ~ Changbin [M]

Word Count: 2.8K 

A/N: @taestannie​ is a genius! Pointed something out to me and it just had to become a waiter AU for binnie boy 🥺💜 

Genre: Smut, waiter/waitress AU, friends to lovers

Friday night shifts were the worst possible shifts to be placed on and everybody knew that which is why everyone except for you, Changbin and a couple of others were the only ones waiting tables that night. The restaurant was overcrowded by people as it always was on a Friday night and you were already wanting to pull your hair out of your scalp and you'd only been on shift for ten minutes.

"Drinking game tonight?" Changbin asked as he watched you walking over to him at the bar, you nodded in agreement showing him the back of your notepad, you'd already started taking notes on the number of times you'd been told to smile. You and Changbin had been working there for the last year and you'd come up with a drinking game to do every Friday you locked up at night - you were the managers which meant you were in charge of locking up each night.

"Just you and me tonight though, everyone's leaving early. Felix has a date," You rolled your eyes when didn't Felix have a date? Changbin watched as you bent down in front of him to pick up one of the serving trays from his bar. You were wearing the usual black tight-fitted low cut top that the sleazy restaurant owner ordered that every girl wore on shift along with the tight pencil skirt that drove Changbin wild for you. Everything you ever did drove Changbin wild for you, he could never fully concentrate when you were on a shift together. 

"You okay there Changbin?" You giggled coming back up from the ground and making eye contact with him, he nodded his head and began making drinks from his notepad when you joined him on the other side of the bar.

"Do you know what table 45 said to his wife just now?" You whispered nodding your head over to the window seat where a couple were sitting together, he shook his head and you started laughing softly at what you’d heard them talking about. 

"They're taking their pick of the guys tonight and you caught her eye." He groaned at the thought of it, it wasn’t how he wanted to spend his night tonight. Everyone knew that couple, they came in every Friday to flirt with the waiters and waitresses, giving them huge tips and making sure they never shared them with anyone else. Always touching and flirting with people whenever they got the chance, you were sure they were trying to make a threeway happen. 

"Can't say I blame them, hot stuff." You joked winking at him before walking away with your tray of porn star cocktails, Changbin watched as you swung your hips from side to side a little extra than usual. You and Changbin would flirt...a lot...There was no secret that there was the sexual tension between you both but nothing ever happened as much as both of you wanted it to.

"Cat got your  tongue?" Chan - one of the other waiters - questioned when he watched Changbin watching you, he stuttered over his words spilling beer onto the tray he was holding. 

"W-What?! No, her?! We're just friends," Chan snorted at the younger waiter in front of him and shook his head, 

"Sure thing, and I’m a rapper" He said sarcastically as he walked away from Changbin while he went onto cleaning up the drinks he'd split all over the place. 

Towards the end of the night, it was starting to get so busy you and the other waiters were climbing over one another to get through the place. The place always got like this towards the end of the night, people would come here before they went on a night on the town since the drinks were cheaper and you could find friends there easier than in the packed out clubs.

"Can I start you off with some drinks tonight?" You questioned looking down at a group of girls who all looked disappointed that they didn't have a male server with them but instead they had you to deal with.

"Excuse me Y/n," You looked over your shoulder as you heard Changbin say your name. God, you'd give anything to hear him moan it just once, after a couple of seconds you realised you couldn't move thanks to the place being so packed full. He placed his hands on either side of your hips and pressed himself against you as he got by the table. You could feel every inch of him and it sent a pool to your core just thinking about him,

"Y-yeah, drinks?" You stuttered out trying to distract yourself from the need of wanting Changbin to take you into the back and fuck you until your voice ran out.

Changbin stood at the bar mixing drinks and you looked at your pad, you had a bunch of cocktails you weren't skilled enough to make and you knew he was. You walked over with a giant smile on your face and leant forward on the bar. Changbin tried to keep his eyes on you but it was hard when you were practically hanging out of your top for all to see, it only sent more blood rushing to his cock. He was concentrating so hard on not staring at your breasts all he'd heard you say is, 

"Sex on the beach and make me scream?" His eyes snapped to yours in horror and you frowned at him, 

"You're the only one decent enough at making them don't make me beg Binnie." You whined out running your fingers up and down his bicep as you gave him your best puppy dog eyes you could conjure up. Flirting with him was the best way to get your own way right now and you knew that too well,

"Yeah, s-sure. What table?" He stuttered out finally realising that you meant the cocktails and you weren't asking him to fuck you on the beach and make you scream.

"Table 12, be careful Binnie. I think they bite." You whispered in his ear moving away to go on the five-minute break that you had. You just needed to be away from him for five minutes, any longer around him and you'd be dying for him to bend you over the bar.

"Here you go ladies," Changbin said as he unloaded the drinks onto their table, they all smiled at him and began flirting heavily but its something he was used to after working her. He watched as you came out from the back of the kitchens adjusting your top and he bit his lip watching you closely. 

"Can I get you anything else?" He asked going back to his job and trying to ignore the raging hard-on he was getting under his apron, he thanked the lord that he had one otherwise everyone would know what was going on in his mind right now. You had no idea what you did to him with the simplest of things, you could say a word to him and have him hard for you. One-touch, one whisper, anything and he would be yours for you to take.

"Thanks, Binnie, I owe you." You said as he came back to the bar you were standing behind, he went to walk behind you when you back up into him thanks to another waitress walking in front. 

"Shit sorry," You whispered as you felt him against your ass, he was hard and it turned you on even more than you already were for him. You ignored the feeling and cleared your throat, 

"Last hour! Let's go!" You yelled clapping your hands together trying to get everyone on the move and into their places for final drink orders.

The shutters were pulled down and locked, you and Changbin were alone in the whole restaurant trying to close up everything. You’d finished counting out the tips before everyone left for their own nights and now you were counting up the register while Changbin stood behind his bar.

"The perks of being bar manager and manger," You looked up from the books in front of you and over to him while he spoke, he pulled out a bottle of tequila for you both and two small shot glasses smirking darkly as he knew you always had to take more shots than he did. 

"We can drink our sorrows away," He was overdramatizing everything while you counted up and cashed the money into the safe. Once it was done you walked over to the bar he was standing behind and took out your notepad. 

"You're going to be hammered," He whistled looking at all of the notes you had by everything you had to take a shot for, 

"Five for being told to smile, 6 for asking for my number, 10 for the sly ''accidental'' ass grab, 9 for the number of times a man has told me that my skirt fits me perfectly." You slammed the notepad down and waited for him to show you his pad but he didn’t,

"Not showing," He put it into his top pocket and you scoffed, 

"Erm, yes you are those are the rules. Give it to me." He shook his head at you tapping his pocket with the book inside and you blinked at him, 

"Come and get it," You stared at him from across the bar, he knew you would and you knew you would climb across that bar and get it from his hands if you had to. 

"Fine," He threw it down in front of you not wanting to risk you hurting yourself if you climbed over the bar and you sighed reading from his page. You didn’t see why he was hiding it, it was nothing, 

"Five shots? Five shots?!" You sounded offended and you were, here you were with 30 shots. 

"You're taking some of mine, I can't handle 30 on my own." You told him as he started making up the shots in front of you.

Five minutes later you were 15 shots in and starting to get a little giddy from the alcohol, you’d never been one to handle your drinks and neither had Changbin so they’d gone straight to your heads. 

"I have an idea, I saw it on a movie once and it looked like fun." Changbin watched as you pulled him over to one of the tables and laid down on top of it. 

"W-What are you doing?!" Blood rushed to his cock again as he watched you start to unbutton your shirt and reveal your black bra to him, it made his mouth run dry as he thought about you laying there like that for him, 

"Relax Binnie," You placed a lime into your mouth, salt on your chest and poured some of the shot onto your stomach waiting for him to catch onto what you wanted him to do. 

"Body shots? Really?" You nodded and he smirked at you, both of you too tipsy to care anymore and far too pent up to even care that you were just two flirty friends. 

"You asked for it Princess," The nickname sent a pool to your panties and your legs clamped together trying to ignore the pressing feeling of wanting him inside of you. He sucked the tequila from your belly button and then slowly licked the salt from your chest, coming up to your mouth and smirking as you proudly held the lime there for him. He licked his bottom lip before taking the lime out of your mouth with his lips before throwing it somewhere across the room. He grabbed your face and began to make out with you heavily on the table, your hands went into his hair bringing his face closer to yours. Tugging on the strands of his hair and he let out a low grunt of your name, that was all it took. You needed him.

"Want you." You whispered to him and he swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat nodding and looking at you as you shifted to the edge of the table spreading your legs open for him, it wasn't the most hygienic of places for this to happen but neither of you cared right now. You needed one another and you weren't going to waste time calling a taxi to take you home. Your shaky hands undid his belt and dropped his pants to the floor and he began kissing you again, he laid your back flat against the table gently, 

"C-Changbin," You whispered looking into his eyes as he pulled away from the kiss, his breathing was laboured and he looked at you as he slowly slipped two fingers into your heat, he didn't even give you a second to get used to it as he began to finger you. Your back arched off the table and you moaned out his name clenching around his fingers. He groaned watching you with lust in his eyes as you clenched around his fingers he just kept imagining what you would feel like around him, crying out his name whenever he'd hit that sweet spot of yours. 

"Good?" He chuckled adding another finger into your heat, your hands gripped onto the edges of the table as your toes curled as you felt him hitting your g-spot, 

"R-Really good Binnie!" You whimpered feeling overwhelmed with him finally taking you, it was everything you'd wanted and everything he’d always wanted/

"I want you though Binnie, all of you," You whispered seductively, he slipped his fingers out of you and began pumping himself in his hand to slick himself in your arousal as he watched you rub your clit for him.

“Need you Binnie,” You moaned out making eye contact with him as he pumped himself faster at the thought of being inside of you, the amount of times he’d done this in his apartment. Thinking about you while jerking himself off was unimaginable. 

"S-Shit, you're so fucking beautiful." He grunted lining himself up at your entrance, he looked at you asking for approval and you nodded as he slowly sank into you. 

"A-ah fuck," He grunted as your nails dug into his biceps, he sank all the way into you and held himself still as he felt your pussy clenching around him needly sucking him into you. 

"You're so tight," His comment made you whimper and he chuckled seeing you like this, you'd done nothing but tease and flirt all evening but now you were beneath him begging for him to move. The sounds you were making drove him wild and he slowly began thrusting into you, pulling you further off the edge of the table to angle himself deeper.

He hooked one of your legs over your shoulder and held you in place on the table thrusting roughly into you.

"Shit! Changbin!" You cried out hands desperate to hold back onto him to steady yourself from falling off the table. He kissed you passionately as he continued to fuck into you with small yet powerful thrusts. 

You knew you weren't going to last long, you'd dreamt of this moment happening for months and here it was. 

"I'm close Changbin," You moaned out to him and it only made him more animalistic, his hips began snapping in and out of you at an unspeakable pace that had your head spinning. You cried out his name as he took his thumb and began rubbing your sensitive clit, he wanted to feel you cum around him. 

"S-Shit!" You screamed feeling your high hitting you and pushing through you intensely, your legs shook as you came around him and he continued fucking into you. 

"I-I'm cumming!" You whimpered hips bucking so hard that the table was starting to shake and wobble beneath you both. Changbin grunted thrusting into you one last time and burying himself deep inside as he came into you filling you up as he moaned out your name.

You stay there for a couple of minutes with him still inside of you trying to catch your breath and come down from the highs. 

"Whoa," You whispered once you were both cleaned up and the table was cleaned. 

"That's all you have to say?" He chuckled coming over to you, your ass was pressed against the table as he wrapped his arm around you. 

"What do you want me to say? 'Thank God It's Friday?'" You stared at him and he shook his head at you softly placing a kiss on both cheeks before leaving one on your lips.

"No, I want you to say that you'll come home with me tonight." You nodded at him, 

"Then I'll go home with you tonight." You whispered to him leaning forward and giving him another kiss, 

"But first I have to delete the camera footage from the main office." You told him as you pointed up at the CCTV cameras in the restaurant. 

A/n: This was written last night so if there’s any mistakes I’m sorry but I love this and I loved the idea when @taestannie​ came to me with it and I just had to do this

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies​ @snowy-meowl​ @jooniesdarlingdimples​ 

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Sweet Pea//the other one

Request: Where the reader is Josies sister, but best friends with Sweet Pea, Toni and Fangs and is secretly in love with Sweet Pea and well Josie does not know this and you can take it from here :)

hey! so this is angstyyyy, but it was fun to write! and just a warning, there is no happy ending, sorry! have a wonderful day/night! 

part 2!

Being a McCoy, you get used to knowing everybody’s business, whether by accident or on purpose (eavesdropping on your mom’s meetings), but something’s happened recently that neither you nor the rest of the serpents can figure out. 

Sweet Pea has changed, everyone has noticed it. Over the summer it was a relatively good change. Yeah, you didn’t really see him much because he was busy doing odd jobs at all times of the day, but when you did see him, he was the happiest he’d ever been. He actually smiled, and not just at you, Toni or Fangs, but to everyone...even Reggie. He was also chatty, and he’d never been chatty in the entire time you’d known him. 

It was like a whole new side to him and another side for you to fall for. 

His smile was as bright as the sun and made you feel just as warm, and you were so glad that other people were seeing it too. Because yes, the brooding bad boy act is very attractive on him...but a smile is just wonderful.  

But then as quickly as Summer was over, it just disappeared. School started again and he went back to being the same old Sweet Pea. He didn’t talk to anyone, didn’t smile. He just sat in the background, not really engaging in anyone’s conversations. 

If anything he seemed sad. He no longer smiled when Fangs told him a stupid joke, or laughed at Toni’s sometime’s questionable outfits she was only wearing to make Cheryl happy. He stopped hanging out at the the Wyrm on Friday nights and avoided going to the weekly bonfire’s at the Quarry. 

He was just existing. And to say you were worried was an understatement. For weeks you, Toni and Fangs had tried multiple times to try and get him to talk about what was happening. There was clearly something off and given Riverdale’s history, you were all worried he’d gotten himself into something he couldn’t get out of.

But whenever you asked he just seemed to shut down. He’d become cagey and short, dismissing whatever you’d said with a shrug and an annoyed ‘i’m fine’.

You asked around the other serpents, wondering if they’d seen anything odd happening but they were all as clueless as you were. And this time your problem couldn’t be solved by hanging outside of your mom’s meetings. 

Josie had told you multiple to just stay out of whatever was going on as he clearly didn’t want you to know. But she had never liked Sweet Pea anyway so she probably just didn’t care, and just wanted you to shut up about him. 

You’d been friends with the serpents for years. Even when everyone hated them you proudly called, Sweet Pea, Toni and Fangs your best friends. You sat with them at lunch, hung out with them after school, despite what your mom, sister and friends had to say. 

“Sweet Pea never showed up today. Did you see him?” Toni asks and you shake your head, despite her not being able to see. A cold breeze blows through your hair and you look around. 

Tent city looks far creepier at night that it does at day and you’re glad you can see Sweet Pea’s not so far away. 

“Nope.” You reply and rearrange the bags in your hand. “What about Fangs? He might have seen him.” 

“I already text him. He said he hasn’t seen him either.” She replies and you let out a disappointed huff. “Do you think he’s okay?” She asks after a few seconds of silence. 

“I dunno.” You say honestly. “There’s clearly something not right. But I’ve bought all of his favourite snacks, and I’ve brought my laptop so we can watch whatever he wants and hopefully that’ll cheer him up. Or maybe just get him to talk.” You smile down at the bags you’re holding, hope blooming in your chest. 

“Hopefully.” She mumbles and you hear her move around. “Did you get Fangs’ a snack too while you were shopping?” 

“What do you think?” 

“Hopefully yes? You know what he’s like.” She replies and the two of you laugh. 

“Yes, I got his favourite. And I got your favourite too.” 

“Aww. You really are the best friend a girl could have.” She teases. 

“I know.” You shrug. “It really is an honor to be my friend, I hope you know this.” 

“Of course I do.” She replies. “We all do. Wait, don’t you have an English project due tomorrow?” 

“Yeah? And?” 

“And have you started it yet?” She asks and you roll your eyes. 

“...no.” You mumble and she tuts down the phone. “Shut up...mom.” 

“Oh, if I was your mother you’d know about it. You wouldn’t be abandoning school projects for some boy.” She scolds, making you roll your eyes again. 

“Do you really think my mom knows where I am? She may have become indifferent towards the Southside but do you really think she’d approve of her daughter hanging out with a serpent instead of doing school work.” You ask and she hums in reply. 

“Fair enough.” She laughs. “Where does she think you are?” 

“She thinks I’m with Betty, having a study date.” 

“Clever.” She nods. “Y/n?” She asks, her voice becoming suddenly serious and anxiety rises in your chest. You hate that tone, no matter who’s using it. But Toni only ever uses it whenever she wants to talk about two things, your feelings or Sweet Pea. “Do you still like Sweet Pea?” She sounds almost like she’s forcing the words out and your mouth goes dry. 

Toni and Fangs weren’t ever meant to know just how hard you’d fallen for Sweet Pea. But apparently when you’re drunk you get sad and spill your guts about every feeling you’ve ever had for anyone. 

You told Fangs how you thought he was cute when you first met and how you thought Toni was very pretty when you first met her. By the next morning the could recite the names of all your crushes dating back to kindergarten and not even you knew their names, but apparently when you’re drunk you do. 

It ended in Toni and Fangs taking you back to hers and you telling them that you were in love with Sweet Pea before passing out on her bathroom floor. The next morning while you were hungover and dying, they made you have the most painful interaction you’d ever had with anybody ever. 

But through your liquified brain you told them the truth. 

Yes you did like Sweet Pea, you probably even loved him. 

Now there’s no probably about it. You know you love him. 

A part of you thinks you always have but you were just too afraid of what people would say. You’d never be allowed to date a serpent, especially because of who you were and what your family name meant to this town. You’d be the outcast, you already were because of the people you were friends with. 

Now though, the residents of Riverdale have been dragged to the 21st century and very slowly, they’re realizing that it doesn’t really matter what side of the town you’re from. 

Although you’re still not sure your mom would be very pleased if you came home and introduced Sweet Pea as your boyfriend...not that that would happen anytime soon anyway. 

“I er. Yeah.” You stutter.

“Okay.” She says awkwardly and both of you go quiet, not really sure what to say next. “I-” 

“Shhh.” You cut her off, the sound of twigs crunching makes you pause and look up. Your eyebrows furrow as you watch your sister walk towards Sweet Pea’s trailer. 

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Toni asks, panic rising in her voice with each word. 

“Yeah. I’ll er. I’ll call you back later.” You say, not taking your eyes away from Josie. You can hear Toni asking what’s wrong but you don’t answer, instead you hang up and can already hear the lecture you’re going to get from her the next time you see her. 

“Hey, Sweet Pea.” She smiles and disappears into the tent. You pick up your pace until you’re stood outside. You’re about to go in but something in you tells you to wait and see what happens. “Hope you don’t mind me dropping by like this?” 

“Always happy to see you, Josie.” Sweet Pea replies and you scrunch your face up in confusion. Since when has Sweet Pea and Josie ever hung out? They usually leave the room as soon as the other one turns up, even after the feud between the North and the Southside. 

You always assumed its just because they simply didn’t get along, that was fine. Not everyone is going to like each other, but something about this feels odd, you just can’t quite put your finger on it. “Especially if this is a...” He trails off, but there’s a playfulness in his tone that you thought was only reserved for you. You heart sinks and you look at the the brown leaves wet and rotting on the floor. 

“A booty call?” Josie replies and your eyes widen.

“Wouldn’t be the first one we’ve had since our Summer fling ended.” He laughs and the realisation sinks in. You’ve been so stupid. For years you’ve fawned over and followed Sweet Pea, constantly trying to cheer him up or make him laugh and get him to see the real you. 

And he has, he’s been looking at it all those years, he just didn’t like it. He preferred Josie instead. Smarter, prettier Josie who’s way more popular and talented and just better than you at everything, including liking Sweet Pea it seems. Tears prick at your eyes and you sniffle, wanting nothing more than to run away and hide, but you can’t. Your feet are stuck, despite the rest of your body screaming at you to run.

Run as far away from them as possible. Run until no one can find you. Just run.  

“Well, it’s not.” She says awkwardly. “Um...I don’t know if you’ve heard, but my mom is getting married, to Kevin’s dad. And I wanted to know if you would be my date to the wedding.”

“As your boyfriend?” He asks hopefully. 

“Does it have to be so official?” 

“Look, Josie...I like you. And I’d be all in with you in a second, but...but you sliding into my life whenever you don’t wanna be alone. I’m not built that way. Maybe that makes me needy, but I just, I gotta get off this merry-go-round with you.” He sighs and tears run down your cheeks. 

“Okay.” She agrees. “You are still invited to the wedding though...if you’d like to come.” 

“Yeah, I er. Y/n already invited me anyway.” He shrugs and anger fills your chest. You know you probably shouldn’t, but you just see red and the next thing you know you’re storming through the door, much to the surprise of them both. 

“Yeah I did.” You seethe.

“Y/n?” Josie asks, her eyes wide as she scrambles to think of an excuse. “I was jus-” 

“What are you doing here?” Sweet Pea jumps up from his bed and stands in front of you. 

“I came here to cheer you up, you ass.” You sob and throw the bags to the floor. “I brought all you’re favourite things and I thought we could hang out because you’ve been so sad recently and nobody knows why and we were all so worried about you. But now I do. It’s because of her. And you guys didn’t even tell me. Do you know how worried I’ve been about you?” 

“Sorry?” He asks and you shake your head at him, sending him a glare he’s only ever seen a handful of times and never directed at him.  

“All those jobs you said you were doing over the summer. It was just a cover wasn’t it?” You cry and he looks over at Josie before nodding slowly. 

“Unbelievable.” You laugh bitterly before turning your attention to Josie. She stands a little straighter when you look at her, trying her best to have the upper hand here, but she’s more worried that you’re going to go and tell your mom. 

“And you? Really Josie. You go for years hating his guts. You give me so much shit for even talking to him, and you’re screwing him?” 

“I er-I.” She stutters.

“I’m such an idiot.” You sigh. “You know a part of me thought you were happier because of me.” 

“Y/n.” Sweet Pea tries to reach you but you quickly move away from him. 

“Don’t.” You warn. 

“Wait, why are you so upset with us? We’ve been getting along, you’ve been wanting that to happen for ages.” Josie asks. 

“Because I am!” You shout. “Because you’re the worst sister in the world. You know when we were younger I could never have my own toys. If I had a doll, you had to have it. Even if mom got you one that was exactly the same. On my birthday you had to get your own present otherwise you would steal mine, and even then you’d still steal mine. And I thought, yeah that’s fine. That’s what sisters do and we were just kids then. But then we got older and we had to share friends and finally when I thought I would be able to be liked for being me. Everyone seemed to realize that you were the most interesting out of us. You had a band, and you’re so talented and pretty and just like-able and I’m none of those things.” 

“Y/n, that’s not true.” Josie starts, her voice remaining calm despite your loud cries. “It’s not true is it Sweet Pea?” She hisses and Sweet Pea jumps at the tone. 

“What, no of course not.” He says, also moving to stand in front of you. Each of them rest a hand on your shoulder but it does nothing to calm you down, if anything it makes you angrier. Years of resentment that’s been simmering under the surface has come to a boiling point. 

“Get off!” You shout and they quickly move away.

“And then I got my own friends, a group of people who liked me for who I was and who I could be myself with. I wasn’t just the other McCoy. You know, the mayor, the one in the band and the other one. But then nobody liked them and everyone told me I was horrible for wanting to be friends with them.” 

“Y/n. Please just breathe.” Sweet Pea tries again, resting a gentle hand on your upper arm and you suck in a breath. 

You’ve never seen him look so worried and you hate yourself for doing that to him, despite what’s just happened. Another set of tears roll down your cheeks and your shoulders slump. Sweet Pea wraps his arms around you, pulling you in for a proper hug and him and Josie share a confused expression. 

“Woah.” Fangs’ confused tone cuts through the awkward atmosphere and him and Toni glance at each other before looking and Sweet Pea and then Josie. “We thought you could do with some company. Plus Toni told me that Y/n bought me some Twizzlers and I couldn’t wait until tomorrow. ”

“Forget about the Twizzlers Fangs.” Toni rolls her eyes and he lets out a disappointed whine. “What’s she doing here?” Toni asks and Josie looks at the floor. 

“Leaving.” Josie nods at them. “I’ll see you around Sweet Pea.” 

“No you’re not.” You reply and move away from Sweet Pea to grab her wrist. “I know why Sweet Pea went from being so happy to being so depressed.” You fake a cheery tone. Sweet Pea and Josie sigh and look at the floor, while Toni and Fangs just look at you confused. 

“It’s because him and Josie were hooking up. But she’s dumped him and that’s what’s made him so sad.” 

“Wait really?” Fangs eyes widen. Toni grabs your hand and you send her a watery smile. 

“Okay.” You take a shaky breath. “I’ve had enough of chasing after things that clearly aren’t real. So, I’m the one leaving. I’ll see you at home Josie, and don’t worry, I won’t tell mom.” You watch as she lets out a relived sigh and gives you a thankful smile before quickly leaving. 

You turn to face Sweet Pea who’s already staring at you. His deep brown eyes scan over your body and it makes your face hot. He’s desperately trying to figure out what’s wrong and you have a feeling the tight feeling that’s settled in your chest, has a matching one sitting in his.  

“Goodbye Sweet Pea.” You say the three most painful words you can possibly think of. They taste like ash on your tongue but as soon as they’re out you feel the weight lift a little. 

Being in love is nothing like it is in movies. It’s not a secret language that only the two of you know, or spending the entire day with somebody and never wanting it to end. 

You thought it was, but it’s not. It’s far more painful than that, especially if the person you’re in love with looks at someone else the way you look at them. 

“Where are you going?” He laughs confused. 

“I really, really hope she changes her mind.” You smile through your tears and despite everything it’s a genuine wish. He’s still your best friend after all, and you want him to be happy even if it’s not with you. 

“What?” His voice breaks as he watches you leave. Toni follows after you and you force yourself to keep staring ahead. Focus on the run down sign up ahead that creaks in the wind and is one storm away from falling down.  

“Can someone tell me what I’ve done wrong.” Sweet Pea asks. 

“You went after the wrong sister, you idiot.” 

[lifeofkaze]

Fourth Time's the Charm

Bill Weasley x Fleur Delacour

Prompts: The number 4

1) (word) Initiative

2) (colour) orange

3) (dialogue) “Take a chance. What harm can it do?”

Word Count: ~ 2.300

A/N: AU where Fleur meets Bill’s family before they get engaged.

____________________________________________

Bill Weasley had never been a superstitious man.

He had never listened to his mother’s old wives’ tales, nor cared for his father’s various ways of bringing about good luck. He had always smirked leniently when Charlie had gone through his pre-match rituals back at school and had long ago stopped questioning Ron’s doubtable fear of bad omens.

But today, everything was different.

Today, Bill had found himself jumping when Ginny had broken her glass at breakfast; his heart had skipped a beat when George had knocked over the salt shaker during lunch and he had felt the tips of his fingers tingle as he had subconsciously looked for any sign of the stray black cat visiting the Burrow from time to time.

He knew he was acting ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it; ever since waking up this morning to sunlight filtering into his old room and the silky hair of his girlfriend tickling his face, he had been out of his mind with nerves.

It was the first time he had taken Fleur to the Burrow to meet his family. Given, it wasn’t love at first sight for neither party involved and the atmosphere was a little more tense than what he was used to, but he could tell everyone was trying to get along; that wasn’t the problem.

No, what was actually making him nervous was the little red box he was carrying in the pocket of his trousers. Every time he moved and felt its corners against his leg, his mouth went dry and he had to fight the urge to panic.

Ever since he had met Fleur, when he had walked into her office at the Gringotts Headquarters, he had been sure she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Not because of her looks or her inherited Veela charm – although he couldn’t deny the appeal. No, what had won him over mere minutes into their first conversation was her personality.

He had never met a person more fierce and gentle, funny and witty. She was nothing like the perfect porcelain doll people made her out to be, an image she detested to the core of her being. Bill had felt it deep down back then, she was the one to complete him.

Bill had bought the ring he intended to give to her for ages ago, on his last work trip to Egypt. It wasn’t particularly elegant or fancy, but he thought Fleur would like it. Whenever he told her of his adventures, she hung onto his every word, his stories about ancient Egypt being her favourites. So when he had seen the delicate golden ring with a stylised lapis lazuli scarab on a bazaar in Cairo, he hadn’t thought twice. Haggling for an engagement ring had felt like weird thing to do and he had wondered if that was a good start for his endeavour, but he hadn’t wanted to be impolite.

Looking back now, he maybe should have trusted his initial instinct. He had been back in England for months now and it was almost time to leave again; the ring was still sitting in his small red box waiting to be presented, however.

And it was not like he was lacking enthusiasm to propose, quite the contrary.

The first time he had tried to ask Fleur the question of all questions, they had been at her favourite French restaurant. He had ordered champagne and the candles on their table had made her hair look like molten silver. It had been perfect, just until the couple on the table next to them had decided to break up very publicly and with a lot of thrown napkins, bitter curses and spilled wine.

The second time, Bill had cooked a three course meal for Fleur, giving it his all. He had taken care to prepare her favourite dishes the way her mother had explained it to him. They had just started on dessert and Bill had nervously fingered the box in his pocket when his family’s owl had crashed against the window so badly they had to rush and get him treated.

Bill had tried not to get discouraged by all his failed attempts. In the spirit of third time's the charm, he had taken great care and called some favours to make sure everything went right this time. A friend of his, who was skilled at weather charms, had promised to write his question into the sky for him; all he needed to do was show up with Fleur at the right place and time.

But she had come home from work late that day, tired, with a headache and in no mood to go anywhere. Desperate and nervous, Bill had urged her to come with him until she had snapped and they had had one of the worst fights Bill could remember.

No, Bill Weasley wasn’t a superstitious man; but seeing how many things went wrong already, he couldn’t help but feel on edge.

He had seen a lot of places over the course of his career; seeing how his attempts to propose to Fleur had gone so far, he couldn’t shake the thought that this would be his fourth attempt. Where three times was the charm, the prospect of number four made him uneasy.

Bill remembered his first work trip to Asia; the headquarters he had been supposed to get back to had been an inconspicuously looking building along the main street bearing the house number 4. He had been surprised to see that it wasn’t even enchanted to not be seen by Muggles until his colleague had explained to him why. There was no need to hide their headquarters because people wouldn’t even look at it for fear of something bad happening. The people believed that the number 4 was an ultimate omen of bad luck, the native word for it sounding almost the same as the word for ‘death’.

And right now, on the verge of attempt number four, Bill was dying more than a thousand deaths with every second the moment was drawing nearer.

He had chosen his timing carefully; his mother had gone into the village to run some errands, his father was off for work. Charlie and Percy had long since moved out and everyone else was busy playing Quidditch in the fields behind the Burrow. For once, the ramshackled house he grew up in was empty, save for themselves.

They were sitting under the huge tree in the corner of the garden where Bill and his siblings had played with the tire swing attached to a lower branch when they were children; the old treehouse reminiscent of his childhood was still sitting in the higher parts of the treetop. A slight breeze was blowing, making the leaves around the treehouse rustle unusually loud.

He had prepared a picnic for them but even the strawberries Bill had picked from the garden himself tasted like ash in his mouth as he mentally braced himself. He set his food aside and breathed in deeply.

It was time to take the initiative, once and for all. He would make sure there wouldn’t be a fifth time.

Leaning forward, he took Fleurs hand in his, sending a prayer to Merlin himself that she wouldn’t notice how sweaty his hand had become.

She looked at him in surprise. “What’s the matter? You are looking so serious.”

Despite his nervousness, a proud smile tugged at the corners of Bill’s mouth; her French accent had almost vanished since she had moved to England but the ‘s’ were still rolling from her perfect lips like a soft song, sending a shiver down his spine.

“It’s nothing, I just wanted to tell you how glad I am that you are here with me,” he started but trailed off again. He had prepared what he wanted to say beforehand, but all the sweet words were forgotten. “You know, this is my family, my family home. You and them getting along is so important to me, I wouldn’t know what to do if you didn’t. It would be a disaster, it… “

Bill noticed he was rambling and stopped. Judging by Fleur’s sceptically raised eyebrows, he wasn’t exactly manoeuvring himself into a good position.

He took a deep breath, collected his thoughts and tried again. “What I wanted to say is, they are the most important thing to me in the world; my family. But ever since I met you, things have started to change. All my life, my family was the first thing on my mind; but not anymore.”

Bill had shifted from his seating position onto his knees, fumbling with the box inside his pocket. The wind seemed to have picked up, the leaves above them rustling louder than ever.

“The first thing on my mind is you, and it has been you ever since we met.” His heart was pounding in his ears as he took the small red box out. “That’s why I wanted to ask you – “

His words were cut short by something colourful whizzing through the air from up above him. He just had time to see two identical mops of ginger hair vanish between the branches of the tree again, before the water balloon the twins had thrown exploded right in between them.

Fleur shrieked and jumped out of the way as the bright orange liquid washed over them – Bill shuddered at the thought of what it might be.

Slowly, he raised his eyes from his own stained hands to Fleur; his eyes widened in horror as she started cursing violently. Even now, the rapid succession of angry French words spilling out of her mouth sounded beautiful to him, but her face was like thunder. The liquid had stained her silvery hair an orange colour almost the same as his own and Fleur’s tirade only intensified as she inspected the ends of it.

Bill’s heart sank at the sight and he felt a rush of burning anger at his little brothers for ruining his moment. Apparently, the fourth time was as unlucky as it was made out to be.

Discouraged, Bill hung his head. He wasn’t sure if Fleur had already seen the box before they had gotten pranked. Cursing Fred and George under his breath, he tried shielding it from her eyes with the back of his hand. But of course, she noticed the sudden change in his demeanour.

The crease between her brows softened as she reached for his hand. “I’m surprised you’re cursing them so much. This is new for me, but I thought you would be used to this.”

He shook his head. “Because they always have to ruin everything.”

Fleur’s nose wrinkled as she glanced down at her ruined hair and blouse again. “It’s a horrible prank. Just look at us, we’re looking ghastly. But I’m sure they didn’t mean bad.”

Bill sighed; he knew she was upset but was trying to make him feel better anyway. “They never do. But still, if I get my hands on them, I could kill them.”

Fleur shook her head, orange stained hair falling into her face. “No you couldn’t. You love your family just the way you love everything, with all of your heart.”

She smiled at him, the warmth in it making Bill’s heart flutter. “That’s what makes you so special.”

He blinked at her in surprise. “So you’re not mad?”

Fleur tossed her hair over her shoulder, a flicker of dismay crossing her face. “A bit; look at my hair, it’s looking just the same as yours now. But they’re your family. If I want to love you for the rest of my life, I will learn to love them, too.”

She intertwined her fingers with his and got up, pulling him along with her. “Because that is what I want to do; loving you for the rest of my life, as a part of your family. If you want that too, that is.”

Bill couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had always known Fleur to be brave, but he would never have figured her to be brave enough to take the initiative from him on herself.

He cleared his throat. “Are you really sure this is what you want? There is no me without this madness.” To drive his point home, he rubbed a smudge of orange from her cheek with his thumb. She chuckled at the sensation.

“This madness made the man that I love; how could I not want that?”

She took a step away from him and tilted her head to the side. “So, I think there’s something you wanted to ask me?”

Bill blinked incredulously. “You still want me to? Even though we’re all orange?”

Fleur’s laugh was like music to his ears. “Even though we’re all orange. Take a chance. What harm can it do?”

And just like that, looking at her smiling at him, his nervousness ceased. He felt completely calm, nothing but certainty left inside his heart.

He let go of Fleur’s hand and got down to one knee, both of them already smiling so widely it hurt his cheeks as he reproduced the now spattered red box again.

“Fleur Isabelle Delacour, do you want to give me the honour of becoming my wife, no matter how insane the ride will get?”

With a laugh bordering on a sob, Fleur sank to her knees next to him, showering his face in kisses, muttering “Yes!” over and over again.

Bill slipped the scarab ring onto her finger, the blue stone shining in the sunlight. He pulled his fiancée into a tight embrace, his face buried in her orange hair. Breathing in the lavender scent of her perfume, Bill felt a happiness wash over him greater than anything he could ever have imagined.

Maybe the old superstition was wrong after all.

Apparently, fourth time’s the charm.

[harringtonstudios]

best friend’s ex. (II)

plot: he’s your best friend’s ex and you should stay away, but it seems impossible.

A/N: i’m weak for this au what can i say.... hope everyone’s staying safe and enjoying the new songs!! pls give me feedback it fuels me on <3

masterlist!  part I.

Waking up to an warm arm wrapping tightly around your side isn’t normal. In far, it’s so far out of your daily routine, that for a second, you close your eyes again, will yourself to actually get up from the diluted dreamscape you seem to be in.

The same sight greets you the second time around, tuft of blonde hair resting on your chest on top of the white blanket that covers you both. There’s a head attached and it takes you a minute to place everything together before you feel yourself dry swallowing.

The Sahara Desert resides in your mouth, lines up on your tongue and you close your lips together at the uncomfortable feeling of a hangover crawling around you.

Colson Baker.

He’s still asleep, you can tell by the slow rise and fall of his body where it lies basically attached to yours. Why his head is tucked right under your chin, you can’t really explain, just like you can’t quite figure out why you’ve let this happen.

Attempting to shift a little, you hear a soft sound fall out from his lips, see his head move against the haven it rests on. Your chest feels heavy, not just cause of his added weight, but the intent behind it.

The sunlight in his room is filtering through the cracks between his dark curtains. You follow the trail of golden as it creeps over his wooden floor, tilts into the grooves of his floorboards, slides up the white walls.

It’s probably been a minute since you’ve been up, maybe two, but it feels like forever, stuck in this awful limbo.

Your phone starts ringing, tinny and harsh against the beacon of peace you’ve built up for yourself. It startles you enough that you automatically reach out to your side, only to meet empty space. This isn’t your bedroom, the table by your head isn’t there, and you have no idea where your phone is.

The ringtone does enough to wake Colson up. He grunts out something before shifting completely off of you, collapsing back into the mattress. His head is still lower than the various pillows on his bed, but he seems content, face relaxed against the sheets.

You take it in for a millisecond, trace your eyes over his parted pink lips, the faint hint of a scar prepped up between his eyebrows, the flutter of his lashes. 

Not yours, the warning sign shouts. Get away.

Your phone is still ringing when you slide off of his bed, wearing nothing, hastily wrapping the blanket around yourself. He shifts on the bed again, and you watch the way his hand reaches out, down to pull at something that isn’t even there. Your chest tightens again, but he’s just mumbling, sleep dazed and his eyes don’t open.

When you reach your phone, somehow it’s ended up across the room, hidden under your jeans from last night, you’ve had five missed calls.

Domi’s name flashes on your screen, followed by a battery warning and you hiss at the predicament you’ve put yourself in. You quickly text her, a simple: Safe. Will be home soon, with someone.

You don’t specify it past that, try to leave it as open-ended as you can. She’s going to dig, claw her way to the truth, but for now, there’s other things to worry about.

There’s a charger plugged next to his bed and you move over, still clutching his blanket as you bend down to attach your phone to it, satisfied as it slightly buzzes, muttering out “Fuck yeah.”

“Good morning to you too,” replies Colson, his voice deeper, twinged with hours of sleep and the lingering effects of vodka.

You straighten up, awkwardly smile at him, feeling very warm trapped between his feather downs. He smiles back, but lets his fingers rub at closing eyes.

“Where are my clothes?” he asks. It’s only then that you actually look at him fully in bed. He’s just as naked as you, bare and on display and you blush at his lack of modesty. It’s not unusual, even when Domi was dating him, you’d been mooned enough times to recognize his ass in a line up, but it feels intimate now.

“I have no idea,” you mumble, shifting your eyes away as he stretches his arms. He takes in the sight of you, the blanket loosely hanging over your body, the way your fingers clutch at it like a life preserver, saving you from something you can’t bare to name.

“Are you-?” he starts, but you cut him off nodding quickly. This doesn’t have to be a discussion, you don’t want this to be a discussion.

“Look I’ll just get my stuff and then be out of your way,” you rush out, eager to get back to a sense of normalcy. You’ve had one night stands before, you can handle this.

“No breakfast?” he mumbles and his eyes are lighting up, mischievous in the faint morning light.

“I’d rather starve,” you mutter, turning around to walk back to where your discarded skinny jeans lay.

“Oh c’mon, I know you better than that. We can get waffles or something?” he tries again and you hear him shuffling around as you awkwardly pull on jeans. It’s uncomfortable, you have no idea where your underwear is but at least you’re clothed, which is better than Colson.

“Domi likes waffles. I’m a pancake kinda girl,” you retort, antsy to prove something. He doesn’t know you, not as well as he claims to. Instead he’s mixing up the fragments of your best friend into you, swirling two different people together to create the one he wants.

“Right,” it’s dry, dying halfway in his throat. The silence in the room grows amidst the white noise of his air conditioner.

Picking up your shirt from the corner of his room, you pull it on, awkwardly adjusting it before balling up his blanket and walking over to drop it on his bed.

“Cover up your dick man,” you blurt out, hands running through the tangles in your hair, head jerking slightly at the pull.

“You weren’t saying that last night,” he smirks and you urge to wack him hard, maybe with one of his own weirdly soft pillows.

He reaches down into the drawers crammed under his bed, pulls out a pair of shorts and shuffles into them laughing at his own joke.

You do hit him then, pick up the nearest pillow, sheathed in that same silk pillowcase as the rest before throwing it his way.

He dodges it before flipping you off and the memory of it bites, nights spent throwing things at each other, the guys all egging you two on. Domi used to scoff whenever it started, yell about being childish and irritating, but you secretly knew she enjoyed it too, watched her boyfriend and best friend fight like old friends.

You snap out of it just as fast as you fell in, a pillow coming straight to hit you in the face.

“Colson!” you shout, hand going up to rub the impacted area as he smiles.

“Not sorry,” he simply shrugs and you scoff at him, push off the bed you’d sat on after the collision and go over to where he’s standing, reaching for your phone.

He blocks your hand, shifts over so that’s he standing right in your line of sight, eclipsing any further view. All you see is him, smirk permanently resting on his lips, array of colors bursting on his skin, faint whispers of something hidden in his eyes.

“My phone,” you try unceremoniously, knowing that he won’t let you past him.

“Do breakfast with me,” he demands, but its soft, a plea more than a request.

You sigh, it’s audible and you know he hears it by the slight sag of his shoulders but he’s relentless.

“It’s just like old times, won’t be weird,” he states and you find yourself laughing at his words.

“We both know that’s not true,” you say, eyes lifting up to meet his. There’s a hardness to his gaze and a part of you wants to break through it, dive in headfirst.

But this is not your territory, not your person, not your place. Domi’s etched into his soul, written somewhere, dipped into his past and no matter what you want, there is no feasible way you can be his present without ruining a friendship.

“It’s just pancakes,” he emphasizes, but he’s stepping aside all the same, letting you bend over and grab your phone.

When you turn back around, he has a shirt on, hair ruffled worse than it was when he woke up. It’s sticking up at ends and you fight the urge to walk over, laugh and pat it down.

He’s aimlessly searching for his own phone and you spot it on the windowsill, go over to pick it up and hand it off to him, murmuring, “Okay.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles out and you can’t tell whether it’s for offering his breakfast invitation or finding his phone.

You hesitate a second too long and he gives you a pointed look and then you’re moving into his space, crowding against his front.

His hands automatically fall onto your waist, pull you in but you can the confusion flickering across his face.

“Hey,” he softly says and something breaks in you.

It’s surprisingly easy to kiss him again, to drink in those lips, still warm from the early morning haze, softer than they were last night. There’s that now familiar ringing bell in the back of your head, but it disappears as Colson’s tongue slips into your mouth.

There’s obvious morning breath mingling with rank tastebuds and as much as you want to recoil, you don’t know if you’ll ever let this happen again so you soak it in, let the feeling overwhelm you.

Your fingers travel up to his messy hair, soothingly pulling at the strands in order to attempt tampering them down. He lets out a tiny groan as your nails slightly scratch at his scalp. You push further into him, fall enough that it seems like the only thing holding you up is him.

The door slams open just as you’re getting into it, leaning heavily against Colson’s body as he props himself on the wall.

The sound is enough to make you jump back, and there’s the confused look back on his face as you hastily wipe at your lips.

“You’re still here,” a voice stresses the syllables out, and you eye Rook standing there. He’s dressed, complete with that one snapback that seems to be permanently attached to his head, but the scowl on his face is all you can focus on.

“I was- um- just leaving,” you awkwardly stammer out, putting more distance between the person you seem to be magnetically attracted to.

“We’re getting breakfast. You wanna come along?” Colson spurts out without missing a beat, he’s striding towards the door and your face hardens.

There must have been some kind of miscommunication in the mess of his words, you must have read too far into it because here he was inviting his friend who clearly wasn’t too fond of you as if this was a casual thing.

“I’m good,” Rook says, tone easing when he’s speaking to his best friend. They walk out of view and you’re left alone in the room you’ve only been in twice.

There’s a bathroom right around the corner of his room and you head straight for it, pulling out the toothpaste from his cabinet and applying it to your finger, scrubbing your teeth. It’s primal, but at least you feel cleaner, a bit more aware in your head.

That kiss was stupid. This whole thing is a disaster, Domi’s still blowing up your phone and there’s a cherry pit growing in your stomach.

You step out and Colson’s standing across by the door, tying together his sneaker laces. Rook’s nowhere to be found and you thank the universe for that, far too early to be dealing with his seemingly intense grudge against you.

“I got the keys,” is all you get before the front door is opening and you’re following him down the hallway into the elevator.

Stems from last night come back to you in flashes. The chime of the elevator doors, the apartment numbers passing by in a daze, a clammy hand clutching yours, butterfly kisses on knuckles.

You snap out of it quick as you step into the elevator, expertly avoiding the corner where you’d given in to your heart and kissed Colson for the first time. It feels like a bad omen, shadowy dark and taunting as you both stand in silence, watching the floor numbers pass by.

“Do you have gum?” he asks, and it’s crisp in the August heat, cuts through the stuffiness in the traveling metal box.

You shuffle into your purse from last night, pull out a pack of gum you’d stuck in there and offer it to him going, “You didn’t brush?”

“You hogged the bathroom and I thought you’d wanna get out of there quick,” he explains nonchalantly, popping a stick of mint into his mouth. You tuck the gum back in, try not to watch the way he twirls the wrapper around in his hands.

“Thanks,” you mutter, hoping he gets the intent of what you actually mean. He nods as the doors ding open.

The lobby is surprisingly full, people sitting on the plush couches and there’s a slight, “Fuck,” mumbled out before Colson’s finding your hand and pulling you towards the garage.

“What-“ you get out before he shushes you, head down as you two move quickly.

He doesn’t explain, but you follow along, wondering why he’s running, hiding like he’s done something wrong. The garage door opens and both of you cross to where AJ’s van’s sitting, slew of motorcycles parked beside it.

“We should take the bikes,” he says, but it sounds like he’s already made up his mind and he’s picking apart the keys in his hand, dragging you over to the motorcycles.

“No what’s going on?” you rush out, pulling your hand from his as he clicks the lock on one of the machines.

“There’s a couple of paparazzi lingering. Probably cause of last night, Tony usually calls up and lets us know to avoid the front doors but I guess they just got here,” he rashly explains, setting over the seat.

He looks good, you can’t deny it, like an action movie star in his element, hand on the bars, shoe propped on the side. There’s a smile growing, jaw moving as he chews and you take a mental picture, a secret memento just for you.

“I’m not getting on your stupid bike,” you sum out, turning away from where he’s gearing it up, sound echoing around the empty garage.

“Either you leave with me, or they take pictures of you and then you’re splashed across front pages, no longer a secret,” he states, and he’s moving the bike slowly alongside as you stubbornly walk back to the garage entrance.

The last statement is made to hit you, remind you that he did do something wrong, both of you did and there’s going to be a price you’ll have to pay.

You give him a look as he smiles, knowing he’s gotten you yet again.

“You’re famous enough for the front pages?” you crack at him and he laughs, shoulders shaking.

“Get on the bike Y/N,” he’s shifting forward, creating space on the back and this can’t be safe but the options are so limited that this is the best you’re going to get.

You swing a leg over, stumbling a little at the shift in gravity before settling onto the seat. It’s weird and he’s turning his head to make sure you’re secure before starting up again.

“Keep your hands on me,” he instructs, but you’re tired of following his rules and fold them cautiously on the sliver of seat in front of you.

It’s a mistake and you realize it as soon as he exits the garage. There’s no one on the street around and he’s gunning the speed, wind pulling your hair back, blowing straight at you.

“Holy shit,” you gasp before grabbing onto his shoulders. His arm twitches slightly as you grip the muscle and you can feel every single movement he does.

It’s a red light when he mumbles to you, “Move your hands lower.”

“Why?” you ask, finally comfortable with the way you’re holding onto him after a few streets of green lights.

“Can’t focus properly on the turns,” he says and you’re a little confused but the lights switching to green and there’s a honk right behind, startling you just a little.

You slide your hands down his back, take pleasure in the way it grounds you as he leans forward, swerving between slower cars.

He moves his back, angles it in one direction and you sort of get the hint, settle your hands on his hips like they do in all the cheesy rom-com movies. But this isn’t a movie, this is real life and there’s rules that aren’t supposed to be broken, consequences to face. The air around you turns sour, hits your throat hard and you’re closing your eyes in an effort to not vomit all over Colson.

It takes a few more minutes and he’s pulling into a barely there parking spot of some hole in the wall diner. You’ve never been here, despite living a few blocks away and you wonder why he’s brought you so close to home when that’s exactly where you should be avoiding.

The engine cuts and then he’s scooting back, your hands immediately lifting from his hips where they’d found a unfamiliar solace for the short drive.

“Think we’ll run into her?” he attempts at a joke and you want to scream, want to remind him this isn’t funny, this is seriously fucked.

“I’m gonna go home if you keep this up,” you grunt out, hopping off of the bike, feet glad to be planted on the floor.

“It’s not that serious,” he murmurs, locking his bike before walking to the entrance. You stare at his retreating back, picture punching the shit out of him, blink it away before following.

“Table for two,” he effortlessly grins, blowing a bubble with the stale gum. The waiter gives him an unimpressed look, picks up the two menus and leads you to a corner booth.

You slide in first, and he slides in right beside you, his side just barely touching your arm. The waiter attempts to smile but it seems halfhearted and you can’t help but stifle a laugh at that.

“Get on the other side. This isn’t a date,” you say after the waiter leaves.

“I like it here. You’re warm,” Colson mumbles, reaching for a menu and your heart thuds in its cavity, begging to be let out.

“Look this can’t happen. You’re my best friend’s ex for gods sake, she’d kill me if she even knew I was talking to you,” you ramble out, finger playing with the frayed edge of the table, unable to look at him.

“What is this?” he says.

When you don’t respond, he huffs before going, “Wonder what’d she do to you if she found out we fucked.”

The waiter pauses right before your table, two waters in his hand. He turns around and you stare at his back, will him to come back to save you this hell you’ve found yourself in.

“Colson I’m serious. Shut the fuck up for two seconds and think about it,” you mutter, voice lower so that the waiter can hopefully head your way again. Your throat feels parched, dust settling against your vocal cords.

“I am being serious. I don’t get why she’d care. She broke up with me, it’s been six fucking months. I thought we both moved on,” he states matter-of-factly, reaching over your hands to grab a sugar packet.

He twists it around on the table, pink packet spinning into a blur as you watch it, wondering what to say next.

“It’s messed up. We shouldn’t even have talked to each other,” you breathe out.

“Well we did. Y/N, you’ve always been my friend first. I wasn’t going to ignore you because Domi wouldn’t like it,” he stops the spinning packet with his palm, flattens it into table.

Your waters appear on the table, two straws tossed next to full cups with a, “Ready to order?”

“Give us a few?” Colson says, voice tilting up at the end posing it as question, confidence dripping into his words. There isn’t an answer but the waiter turns away.

“The only reason I know you is cause of her,” you truthfully respond.

“Doesn’t mean our entire relationship has to be based off of what she wants. She’s not good for you,” he grabs a straw, tearing the wrapper before dropping it into a glass and passing it over to you.

Your head’s still stuck on the word relationship, knows that he doesn’t mean it romantically but the thought of it still lingers.

“You can’t say that,” you mumble in response to his last few words.

“Okay. I can’t. But I can tell you that you deserve a best friend who doesn’t go around cutting off your friends because she doesn’t want to see them anymore,” his statement seems like a final word, laying itself in the open air.

The waiter’s walking back and you quickly order the first thing you see, some blueberry pancake special and pray it isn’t bad. He orders an omelet, customizes it and you listen at the ease of his words, how he sounds like he owns the place while specifying his veggies.

Your menu gets handed back over and you sip at the ice water, try not to gulp it down.

“I’m sorry if that was out of line,” he attempts, but you don’t want to hear it anymore, don’t want to break the train of thought in your head repeating his last phrase.

“Can we just- you know be normal for now?” you ask, voice small compared to his.

“Sure yeah. You like blueberries?” he switches so quick it almost gives you whiplash, even though you asked for it.

His arm’s on the booth cushion behind you head, you can feel it as you go to lean back and it feels too close to a date for comfort.

“No it was just the first thing I saw,” you say without really meaning to.

He laughs at that and you smile too, easing into a neutral state.

“What if it’s gross? You know blueberries can freeze in just four minutes,” he spits out and you feel his leg bump against yours at the fun fact.

“Why do you know that?” you huff, eyes going to watch him speak.

“Read an article once,” he seems awfully pleased with himself and you roll your eyes muttering, “Glad to see you know how to read.”

He nudges you hard at that and you fall deeper into him somehow, find yourself tucked right into his side.

“You weren’t this mean to me last night,” he says pointedly, lifting his glass up.

“I wasn’t hungover last night,” you retort, or addled with guilt your mind adds silently.

“Oh shit, I forgot,” and then he’s ruffling through his pockets mumbling, “I thought I had some Advil in here.”

“No thanks, keep your pocket drugs. I’ll just sleep it off at home,” you say, although the idea of home and Domi just makes you queasy.

Two full plates are gently placed in front of you, steaming and fresh. You eye the purple blue dots on your pancakes suspiciously, hoping the taste isn’t as dark as the mosaic it creates visually.

Colson’s omelette looks incredible, cheese and vibrant red tomatoes popping off the plate and you want to taste it, see if its as good as he made it sound.

“I forgot you don’t get hungover,” you mumble, last few bits of the previous conversation slipping through before you lose yourself in the meal.

“Life of a rockstar,” he laughs out before grabbing his fork.

“Humble rockstar,” you laugh back as he clinks his silverware against yours.

The pancakes taste exactly and how they look and your tastebuds struggle in figuring out a flavor pattern. It’s bursts of sour, before buttery goodness and sugary maple. You demolish an entire pancake before realizing you’re out with a friend.

“You want some?” you mumble, chewing over a bite.

He watches you inquisitively from where he sits, fork dancing over his own plate. You will yourself not to blush under his gaze, almost choke on the piece tucked into your mouth.

He pulls off a piece, bites into it and you see his face twist up as he goes, “What is that?”

“Probably frozen blueberries,” you reply and his eyes light up at the recalling of his words as he swallows down the pancake.

“Terrible,” he mumbles, sipping on the dark coffee he’s ordered.

Colson’s a coffee freak, particular about the sugar levels, the amount of ice that goes into his drink, even the origin of the coffee beans. You’d learned this early on as he refused to participate in Starbuck runs, grunted in distaste when you would show up at his apartment, carrying a frappe, Domi sipping happily at her own.

The food finishes quick, you’ve taken bites of his omelette, trying not to praise the medley of flavors he’s somehow incorporated into an egg. He hasn’t cooked it of course, but you would never be able to combine options to come up with this type of breakfast.

He reluctantly finishes your last pancake, dousing it in syrup and making faces with every bite, mostly to make you laugh. His fingers are sticky and he lets them slide together before pulling them apart, string of maple connecting them, his eyebrows raising smirkingly towards you. You push him hard at the innuendo.

The bill comes around and goes back faster than you can react. He pays it quickly and quietly, not even letting you attempt at it. There’s a slight rush that overcomes you at that, you’ve always know he was generous, but this is different from late night McDonalds with the bros, slightly more personal.

He gets up to wash his hands after the mess he’s created and you shake your head at the pure stickiness of his hand as he walks away.

You pull your phone out, knowing you’ll regret it as soon as you catch sight of the time. You’ve been here with Colson for over an hour.

They flow of text messages from your roommate vary in subject, but near the end there’s no emojis, capital letters reflecting back at you and you know she’s mad, can feel it rolling off the screen. This is going to a bitch to hide.

“You should unblock my number while you have it out,” Colson suggests, voice startling you.

“Should I?” you wonder, more to hear it out loud to yourself than actually ask him.

He shrugs but his intentions are clear as he says, “Wouldn’t hurt now, would it?”

“What would you even text me?” you quiz this time, pointer finger tapping at the sides of your phone.

“Don’t know. Cool things. Fun facts,” he rattles off as if he’s creating a shoddy list in his head.

“Convincing,” you laugh before going to your settings. The blocked numbers stare up at you, at least five of them on that list unfairly.

You find his, the first one blocked all the way at the bottom and swipe.

Unblock? your phone asks, as if knowing you’re having trouble with this decision, second thoughts about something as trivial as a phone number.

Yes, you tap and then the list decreases automatically.

“Done,” you say, putting your phone back into your pocket.

“Good,” he hums before offering you his hand.

You take it, weirdly knowing this is the last time you will. He lets your intertwined fingers fall between the two of you, swings them just a little, hitting them against your legs as if he’s just as aware of the finality of it all too.

You take a breath, walk towards the exit. The doors open and you both step out, get down the steps and towards his bike.

You drop his hand first, look up at him, whisper, “I’m going to walk home.”

He doesn’t protest, you can’t tell if he wants to, but you secretly hope he does, in some twisted selfish way.

“Okay,” is all you get back from him and then he’s getting on his bike.

You don’t look back as his engine roars to life, or when you hear the telltale zoom of him speeding away. You feel sick, but remind yourself to keep walking, put as much distance between this mistake as you can.

Your heart aches at the word mistake, cracks the minute you can’t hear the motorcycle anymore, too far gone to even be white noise for your walk of shame home. This has to happen, you remind yourself, staring at the gum stains on the sidewalk. You’re going to be fine.

-

taglist:  @iamdorka @no-shxt-sherl @bakerkells @findingmyths @rosegoldrichie​ @mayaslifeinabox​ @itjustkindahappenedreally @hnbtx @backoftheroomandnotbelonging​ @sophroniaa​ @enchantedamusedslightlyconfused​ @calum-defense-squad

[anjuschiffer]

Blessed Flower [Brought Us Together]

You know what I haven’t written yet? GARMARI!

Also, sorry it took his long to write this QQ

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45. I can’t imagine this world without you

48. Why are you crying?

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Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak​ @damianette-is-life​ @toodaloo-kangaroo​ @elijahcrevan​ @vixen-uchiha​ @nathleigh 

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AO3

Today was the day.

After months of sweat, blood and tears, Garfield had finally done it. He found the answer to his desire...he had cured Tara’s illness, so why?

Why did he dread this walk through the forest today? Why did his feet feel heavier with each step he took, as he got closer to the cabin he used to look forward to?

Why did he hesitate to continue down the ever so familiar path? A path he has walked down plenty of times before, both during the rain and through snow. So why? Why was he doubting himself? Wasn’t this what he wanted?

Garfield stopped, looking up towards the forest canopy, tiny beams of sunlight making its way through the dense layer of leaves.

The twilight’s breeze rustled the spring leaves, calming Garfield’s uneasiness a bit.

Taking a deep breath, Garfield recomposed himself before continuing his journey down the dirt path most of the people in his village often avoided.

“It’s cursed.” They would say.

“Those who enter often never return.” They used to warn him.

“No one dares to enter La Feerie’s Garden, even if the Blessed Flower is in it. You rather remain alive than face Lutin for her flowers.”

But despite their warnings, Garfield still went into the forest in search of the magical flower, having found it around a year ago. But upon reaching the one spot in the forest where the magical flowers bloomed, Garfield met her.

“How dare you pick ma petite fille?” A voice growled, Garfield stiffening as his hand hovered over the white flower, listening as footsteps drew near. 

He didn’t dare turn around in fear of seeing what was to possibly kill him. “Who are you and why are you-”

“I need them to help cure my friend’s illness!” Garfield blurted out, keeping his head lowered as he pulled his hand back to himself. 

Well, Tara wasn’t exactly his friend...more like the neighbor he didn’t have the guts to tell her that he liked her...but even then, he couldn’t just do nothing as he saw her dying before his eyes. “She’s been suffering from pain in her muscles and her cuts are starting to heal slowly. I heard that this flower-”

“Ah, so you’ve heard about the Blessed Flower.” The voice said monotonously, Garfield noticing that the voice was now in front of him. Bare feet were now in his vision, Garfield noticing that they looked human.

Slowly looking up, he was met with soft bluebell eyes. “And do you know how to administer it, human? Or do you plan on killing your friend?”

Garfield froze under her gaze, carefully choosing his next words. Was she not a human then? She can’t be one if she addressed him as ‘human.’

“I don’t. But I would gladly do anything to learn how to use it if it means saving my friend.” Garfield remained silent as he awaited for the girl to say something back. “Just teach me and then when she’s cured, we don’t have to see each other again. I’ll even give you permission to erase my memories if you think that’s a fair trade.”

He didn’t expect her to sputter into laughter, folding into herself as Garfield felt his body tense despite being confused by her response. 

“You’re an odd one, I’ll tell you that. Odd, but honest.” The girl finally said after composing herself. 

She stretched out her hand, Garfield looking at it before accepting it. The two stood up together, the girl smiling at Garfield despite his clear confusion. “I am Marinette, guardian witch of Edel Forest. You, what is your name?”

“Garfield Logan.” He responded. “My name is Garfield Logan. So please, Guardian, teach me how to save my friend.”

“Then follow me.” She commanded, Garfield watching as a small cottage materialized before their eyes. Or rather, came out of hiding.

As Garfield followed her into her cottage, he was met with the aroma of freshly baked bread and a hiss. He followed the sound, finding out it came from above him. A black cat with its back arched and fur sponging up was the one who greeted him with a hiss. His green eyes bore through him, the cat watching Garfield’s every move. “Don’t mind Chaton. He’s been overprotective of me ever since...do you like pie? I just finished making one!”  

Garfield simply nodded, but couldn’t help but notice the trembling of her hands as she moved around her cottage, watching as she fumbled to look for extra eating utensils.

Just how long has it been since she had anyone over that she couldn’t find another plate? 

Apparently a long time, Marinette having to resort to using a tracking spell to help her find one, causing Garfield to watch in utter awe as a plate levitated from its place and made its way to Marinette.

Meanwhile, Chaton continued to monitor him, his green eyes never once leaving Garfield out of his sight.

--

Over the course of the year, Marinette taught Garfield how to harvest the Divine, showing him which Blessed Flowers were used depending on the illness or the injury.

She taught him how to plant, care and harvest the plant. She even told him the importance of talking to the plants and how they enjoyed the extra attention. After all, it helps to enhance their healing capabilities. 

Sometimes when they were out in the field, the two would find ladybugs flying about. Garfield would tease Marinette whenever various would sit on her, Marinette whining to him that it wasn’t funny.

She taught him how to measure and procure the different medications that could come from the magical plant, Garfield absorbing everything with wonder and amazement. Who knew that the magical plant could also help with toothaches!

“Yarrow. That is its actual name.” Marinette clarified at one point when Garfield was busy packaging some yarrow into his bag to take back to the village. 

They had finished grinding up some dried yarrow and packaging them for tea. They even had a few made into pastes. “To be honest I don’t know why people call it the Blessed Flower,” she said as she unraveled her braided midnight hair.

Garfield watched as she carefully took out the red ribbon that held up her long hair, wondering why she has never done so before. It was pretty, very pretty.

“Perhaps because it can help with so many trivial things that inflict us.” Garfield provided, slinging the bag across his body, opening the door to leave. He watched as Marinette looked at him with panic, her eyes having dilated a bit before going back to normal. “I’ll be back again tomorrow, at the same time.” 

He watched as Marinette relaxed, her shoulders lowering from their tense form. 

“Have a safe trip.” She said, waving as he closed the door behind him before stopping.

“You should have your hair down more often. It’s pretty.” Garfield said, closing the door behind him and headed to the village. With each step he took, he felt his cheeks burn even more.

Why did he even say that?

--

Marinette hummed as she placed down a pot of chamomile tea on the table, gasping with glee as she remembered it's been a few minutes since she checked on her apple pie.

She skipped to her oven and carefully took the pie out, smiling at how well it came out.

She placed the pie down, liking that for once in her life, her table was cle-

Now that she thought about it, when was the last time her kitchen table wasn’t filled with books for herbs? That she had actually used it to have food on it?

Because she never once had to use it for a guest before. She had always just baked with her magic, pots, pans and ingredients floating midair as she recited recipes from her childhood. 

When was the last time she was excited to even have someone over?

The door creaked out, Marinette smiling as she saw Garfield walk in.

“Gar! Welcome back!” She greeted, making sure to not rush up to him. 

“Hey Mari.” Garfield said with a weak smile. A hiss was heard nearby. “Hello to you too, Chaton.” Even though it’s been months since their first encounter, Chaton was still hostile towards Garfield. 

“Want to have some pie?” Marinette went back to the table, lifting it up to show him. “I just finished-”

“Tara’s cured.” Garfield blurted out, watching as the apple pie splattered down to the table. “Mari, I-”

“That’s wonderful news!” Marinette celebrated, clapping her hands together before letting out a gasp. “Oh no! The pie!”

She quickly began to try and put the crumbled pie back into the pan, but it kept spilling out.

“Mari-”

“Can you believe it Gar? We actually cured Tara!”

“Marinette. Are you okay?” Garfield managed to say, reaching to grab her hand, only for Marinette to pull it back to herself as she picked up the wasted apple pie.

“Of course I am! Your wish came true, so why wouldn’t I be-”

“So why are you crying then?” Garfield softly asked, watching as she silently cried. They glistened as they ran down her face and onto her hands. “Mari,” he softly said, not knowing what to say.

“It’s goodbye...isn’t it?” She asked, setting the pan down. “Now that you got what you wanted, there isn’t any other reason for you to keep coming here. You got me to help you cure your friend.” She let out a dry laugh. “There isn’t any other reason for you to stay here.” 

“Mari. I still plan on coming here.”

“Coming here? What for? You already cured Tara- oh...oh!” Marinette exclaimed, a giggle escaping her. Then a dry laugh erupted.

“Marinette?”

“You’re just like them.” Marinette whispered. “You come to me, use me and then plan to continue to use me.”

“Marinette, let me-”

“You plan to continue to come here on behalf of your village, aren’t you? Act like it’s for your village’s benefit but end up using me for your own gain, right? That’s your plan, isn’t it, Garfield?”

“What? No! I would-” Garfield denied, but his words fell on deaf ears. 

“To think I feel for this again!” Marinette yelled, Garfield watching as her red ribbon flew and began to ravel her hair into a bun. Black dots began to blossom onto the ribbon as a red aura began to emit around Marinette’s hands. 

“Marinette, please. Just listen-”

“That’s what they said. To listen to them. To help them carry out a plan that would only benefit themselves and few others, but not everyone...but not this time.” Chaton appeared out of nowhere, now perched on a wooden beam above Marinette. His fur was on edge and his eyes gleamed a nasty jade. “I won’t let you use me again. I won’t let you!” Marinette yelled, dashing for Garfield, who did nothing but remain frozen as she tackled him to the ground.

Garfield struggled to break free from her magic binding, but his wrists were bound to the floor in plant vines. 

“Marinette, please!”

“Silence!” Marinette bellowed. “I shouldn’t have let you in. I shouldn’t have trusted you. I should’ve just sent you off like I did to all those who came before you! 

But how naive I was. To think that the Council was wrong all this time, only to see that they were actually right.” Her eyes glew a dangerous red. “You humans never change.”

Garfield watched as Marinette placed her hands on his head, a soft glow emitting from them.

“If you think this is for the best...then go ahead. Erase my memories...just like we promised when we first met.” Garfield softly said, looking straight back at Marinette. “Do it if it gives you peace of mind.”

He watched as something flashed across her eyes, watching as she hesitated to continue.

Marinette pursed her lips, shutting her eyes close before getting off of Garfield. A shuddering breath left her.

“What am I doing?” Marinette warbled, watching her hands begin to tremble. The glow surrounding her hands began to dim down, extinguishing. She hid her face with her hands, feeling her tears begin to trail down her face. “Just what-” She shook her head. “I can’t do it, I shouldn’t be- just what the hell-”

“Marinette.” Garfield softly said, watching as the vines disappeared from around his wrists, allowing him to sit next to Marinette. “I’m alright...it’s alright.”

“Alright? How is this alright?” Marinette gestured to herself. “I almost erased your memories and was on the verge of killing you! How is that alright?” She yelled, a sob escaping her. “How can you just-”

Garfield pulled her into an embrace, startling Marinette.

“Because I know you, Marinette.” Garfield said, tightening his embrace. “And even if you did erase my memories, my heart would remember the year we spent together.”

He felt as Marinette trembled against him.  “It will never forget, I know it won’t. After all, you mean so much to me.” He listened as she began to sob. “So even if you har-”

“Don’t ever let me do that to you. I’ll die before I ever dare to harm you, Garfield.” She whispered, gently pushing away from him to look at him. “Because...because I can’t imagine this world without you...I can’t live without you!”  Marinette confessed, looking at Garfield with fresh tears pooling in her eyes.

“Ever since we met, I no longer felt alone. I was no longer alone once you stepped into my home. I was looking forward to seeing you everyday, to chatting, learning together and just being with each other. I enjoyed it...I love spending time with you being with you.”

Garfield let Marinette recompose herself, allowed her to wipe away her tears. He didn’t know when, but at one point, Chaton came to the both of them, sitting in her lap. “I don’t want you to go. To leave me alone…”

“If...if you head let me talk, perhaps none of this would’ve happened. But even so, this is all my fault.” Garfield admitted. “I shouldn't have let you jump to conclusions like that by not saying what I need to say first.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I should’ve told you the better news first before the good news.”

“The...better news?” Marinette asked.

“I want to live here. With you.” Garfield said with a smile, grabbing her hand. “I, too, realized that I like being with you.”

Marinette looked at him with wide eyes, a faint pink on her cheeks.

“Do-Do you really mean that?”

“I do.” Garfield said, resting his head against her shoulder. “I really do.”

Marinette let out a small gasp, causing Garfield to lift his head to look at her. She smiled back at him and cupped his face.

They both erupted into laughter, pressing their foreheads together. Fingers intertwined as they sat together in comfortable silence, the crackling of the fireplace keeping them company. 

They didn’t need anything more to be happy.

Just the two of them. 

Just each other.

That was enough for them.

[pparkerpoetry]

Face Reality (part 17)

Title: Touch my Wings (and watch as they melt from the sun)

Summary: Ranboo is healing. Tommy is not.

Phil finally comes face-to-face with his consequences.

Chapter One

Chapter Eighteen

Masterlist

_____________ It was a few weeks later when Technoblade walked into the living room and plopped down on a chair, a heavy book clutched in his hold. It was still fairly dusty, but by the look of the worm pages, it used to be much dustier.

Ranboo looked up from where he was reading. “Hey, Technoblade.” His shoulders didn’t tense up, his voice didn’t waver. He wasn’t completely comfortable, but his body didn’t scream at him to run. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress, and that was what was important.

“Just the hybrid I was looking for,” Technoblade greeted back. “I’ve found you some answers.”

There was a pause. “Answers to what?” Ranboo racked his memory, but couldn’t for the life of him remember ever asking Technoblade anything.

“Answers to why you had more than one thin day in a row?”

Ranboo’s eyebrows furrowed as he thought about that. “Techno,” he asked hesitantly, “how much sleep have you gotten in the past few weeks while you’ve been researching?”

An uneasy chuckle was the only answer that he got.

“Techno,” he said a little more forcefully, a little more harsh. “How much sleep.”

The piglin snorted. “Not a lot. But that doesn’t matter-”

“Yes it does!” Ranboo protested. “You can’t just let yourself waste away, Techno.”

“How else am I supposed to show that I care?” he responded defensively.

It was quiet for a beat. “You care?”

Techno looked at Ranboo and nodded. “Of course I do. I know that we don’t have a good past, but… you’ve made me more human, you and Phil. I cry more, I feel remorse for the lives I’ve taken or almost taken, I have emotions now. I’m not all the way good, but I’m getting there, and I’m sorry that it took you almost dying for me to realize that I wasn’t on the good side.”

Neither knew what to say. 

“Well.” Techno said. “About my research.”

“Yeah, yeah, your research.” Ranboo nodded, leaning forward. 

“This book was a whole lot of nonsense, but there were some good passages.” Techno explained. “Basically, thin days are more than just a thing hybrids go through. It’s kind of like a bonding moment that makes you stronger, if that makes sense, but it only happens when the hybrid part of you feels safe, so for instance, you guys all feel safe here. And, families tend to have thin days near each other because when other hybrids are there, your hybrid is reassured that it's safe.”

Ranboo nodded. “So, since I haven’t, uh. Since I haven’t really had a thin day on this server…”

“You never felt safe enough to. And, since you never have them, your enderman side is desperate to develop. So, when your non-enderman side wants to take the wheel, it can’t.”

“That makes sense, I guess.” Ranboo shrugged. “Oh, have you heard from Kristin recently?”

Techno winced. “Yeah. She hasn’t quite warmed back up to me yet, but I think she’s out flying with Purpled. There aren’t people dying because of wars right now, so she’s got free time.”

As if on cue, Death and Purpled walked in. Purpled was running around excitedly, and his wings flared out behind him.

“Ranboo!” He greeted, running a hand through his unruly hair.

“Purpled!” Ranboo returned. “Have fun?”

“Yeah! My wings are so cool, and they’re purple, so they match my brand-”

“Those are blue, though.” Techno interjected.

Ranboo squinted. “No, those are purple. I don’t know what you’re seeing, Techno.”

Tommy strolled in to see what the commotion was about. “What’re we arguing about? I’m right, and you are all wrong.”

“What color are my wings?” Purpled asked.

“I dunno, blue?”

They never came to a conclusion, or maybe they did. Tommy didn’t stick around to find out, though. He was hungry, so he rifled through the pantry to find something to snack on. 

“Hey, Tommy.”

He turned. “Oh, hey Fundy. How’s the castle repairs going?”

The fox smiled. “They’re going really well, actually. Eret has a bunch of rooms in it if you guys ever want to visit.”

“Pog!” Tommy said. “Are you going to stay there or here? I mean, it doesn’t really matter, but have you thought about it?”

Fundy hesitated. “I was thinking about staying with Eret, actually. Do you think Sam will be mad?”

“Of course not,” Tommy reassured. “Just don’t be a stranger. We’ll come visit you, too. I promise. Next week, maybe? Tomorrow?”

“Whenever.” Fundy said, clearly feeling better. “I’m going to go find Sam. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Tommy responded, turning back to his hunt for snacks as he listened to the fading footsteps.

Another pair approached him.

“Hey mate.” Phil said, getting a glass of water.

Tommy tensed. “Hey.”

Phil was about to leave, then sucked in a breath. “Tommy, your wings look awful. Whose been preening them?”

“Whoever is nearby. I think they do fine,” Tommy said defensively. 

“They could use some work,” Phil insisted. “Why don’t you let me preen them? Everyone’s out of the living room.”

Was that meant to reassure him? That no one was there to act as a buffer? As much as Tommy wanted to forgive Phil, he knew Ranboo would, too easily. He needed to be cautious because Ranboo forgave too quickly, and yeah, maybe he was also hiding from the hurt that he felt because of Phil by focusing on Ranboo’s, but…

Phil looked so hopeful.

He didn’t want to, he really didn’t, but the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. “I guess, yeah.”

It all felt so wrong, sitting down on the floor to let Phil touch his wings. They wanted to fold up and refuse to open, but Tommy forced them to stretch out. He grimaced as Phil announced he’d be starting, and hoped that it would feel nice. Preening always felt nice, right?

Phil put a hand on one of Tommy’s wings, and it took everything in him to not swat it away. It felt irritating, like a piece of sand between your toes or a snarl in your hair as you tried to brush it out. It was bearable, though, and if it made Phil happy, then it was worth it. 

It was bonding, right?

Then, it got worse. Phil’s fingertips left the feathers aching a little bit, almost stinging, and Tommy shifted a little. It was fine. He could deal with it. Phil was probably almost done, right?

Phil asked him if he was okay, and he grunted. The pain got worse. It hurt, it hurt so bad, and whereas preening usually felt nice and lulled him to sleep, this time it felt like when you stub your toe. Except it was his entire wing.

It only got worse. He wanted it to end, but he was scared that if he opened his mouth, he’d vomit. The nausea gathered in his stomach and crawled up his throat, forcing him to ignore the stabbing feeling that happened whenever Phil touched his wing. 

He just had to deal with a little more. Phil was done with the edges, it was time for the part that always felt the best when Sam or somebody else preened his wings. It would feel good, right?

It didn’t. He exhaled slowly, feeling the tears gather in his eyes. He wanted it to stop, but if he said anything, he knew he would start crying. It hurt so bad, so incredibly bad, and he just sat there. 

Phil was humming happily, and Tommy nearly yelled at him to stop. Everything was so much more… annoying, suddenly. The humming was too loud, his shirt was too itchy, his leg wasn’t positioned comfortably, his throat hitched with every breath. He hated it.

After a particularly bent feather was corrected, Tommy cried out a little bit. 

“...Tommy?” Phil asked. “Are you alright?”

“Please stop.” He managed to choke out, and the hands on his wings were lifted away almost immediately. He managed to stumble out of the room before the tears started to fall, but he didn’t miss the way that Phil’s disappointed, almost betrayed, gaze burned his back.

Tommy went down the hall and found Ranboo in the bedroom. “Ranboo,” He called out, and hesitated.

“What happened?” Ranboo asked. “Are you okay?”

Tommy shook his head, and the tears fell quicker now, accompanied by a few desperate chirps and hiccups. 

“Oh, Tommy,” Ranboo said, patting the bed. “Come here, Do you want to talk about it?”

He flopped onto the covers and buried his head in a pillow. “Phil tried to preen my wings. I let him, because he just looked so hopeful that we were going to finally be family again, but it just-” A small trill interrupted his rambling before he picked back up, “It felt so wrong, and then it started to hurt, and Ranboo it hurt so bad, and I thought I was going to barf, and-” He continued slower this time. “What if that’s just how preening feels? What if every time I need to take care of my wings, it hurts? What if I never can feel that safe again?”

“Do you want me to try?” Ranboo asked softly. “I’ll stop as soon as you tell me to, I promise.”

Tommy thought for a minute, but nodded. “Please?”

His body slumped with relief as soon as Ranboo started petting the feathers and before he knew it, he was purring. He mumbled out something, and Ranboo must’ve taken that to mean stop.

Tommy whined and pushed his wing back against Ranboo’s hand. “Don’t stop. It feels nice.”

“Okay, Tommy.” Ranboo chuckled, and started the preening again. 

“We should take a vacation to see Fundy,” Tommy hummed.

Ranboo nodded, and responded. “Yeah, I haven’t seen Niki in a while. When do you wanna go?” It was silent. “Tommy?”

Tommy was fast asleep, his face content and relaxed. Ranboo smiled, and stayed with him until he woke up.

Phil, however, had gone back to his house with Techno that they’d built not far from Sam’s base. He sat by the window, unmoving, until Techno came in for the night.

“Phil? Are you okay?”

He turned his head to look at Techno and shook his head. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I-” His throat was dry. “I offered to preen Tommy’s wings because they looked like they needed it, and I thought it would be a good bonding time. It went okay, but then he made a noise and asked if he was okay, and- and my touch hurt him, Techno. I’m not- Not only does he not consider me part of his flock, not even deep down, but my touch hurts him.” He rested his head in his hands. “When did I fail so bad?”

Techno didn’t say anything.

Phil ignored the tears that gathered in his eyes. “Maybe Kristin was right that I didn’t feel bad, yet. I didn’t realize, really, the impact of my actions, but now- Techno, how do I fix this?”

Techno looked back to meet Phil’s teary gaze. “You do the best that you can, Phil, and if Tommy still can’t forgive you, then you live with it.”

“I just live with it?”

Techno shrugged. “What else can we do?”