#why the fuck is anyone paying more than the principal a month

[weirdlet]

HOA fees are out of fucking control.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

More Than You Could Ever Know - Part 1

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: On god they're about to be so cute. This was going to be one chapter but they can't stop fucking and I can't stop writing. Enjoy!

Title from All I Want For Christmas is You by Mariah Carey

Word Count: 8.5k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: A No Love Lost Christmas Special! Takes place about five months after the end of No Love Lost, sort of an epilogue to the main story.

The Boys start Secret Santa, Ben pretends to do his job. Usual Warnings, plus smut. Much fluff and smut.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth rotting fluff, smut (fingering, oral f receiving, p in v sex), established relationship, Christmas Special

Part 2

Read on A03!

Doing this in Butcher’s apartment was a terrible idea, because the asshole only cleans when it’s his weekend with Ryan, and you’re right on the wrong end of that. Doing it immediately after work was a worse one, because you’re in heels and a too tight bra that you’re not allow to rip off, throw in Ben’s face, giggling when he all but tackles you into bed.

Doing it without Ben here to smile and pout and snark at might be the worst idea you’ve ever had.

And you’ve had a lot of remarkably fucking terrible ideas.

You’re not really paying attention to your friends around you, because you’re staring at your phone. Turning it around between your hands, waiting for Ben’s text to let you know Ryan’s home from school. That he’s not being bullied, and he’s doing his homework, and his powers didn’t cause what the principal had referred to as structural damage to the school’s foundation, and what Ben had correctly said was just a fucking accident. It’s not Ryan’s fault you pussies put the baseball field right next to the goddamn building.

There haven’t been any incidents since then—Ben had taken Ryan to a large, empty field and helped him figure out how to not turn a ball into a genuine weapon—but it’s still a delicate situation. It took a lot to get Ryan into a public school. A lot of promises of Ryan won’t hurt anyone, you fucking pussies, he’s not a damn baby, and bargains of Ben and I will donate, and go to all the fundraisers, but you’re not allowed to explicitly advertise that Ryan’s here, and many, many thinly veiled threats of if you don’t treat our son like a proper fucking human, I’ll let my wife yell at you. And she’ll rip you to fucking pieces.

You wouldn’t have ripped anyone to pieces. Literal pieces. Emotional pieces had been on the table, as had reputational pieces. It was one of the very few advantages of being so highly and strangely regarded as the woman who killed Homelander and the founder of the Soldier Boy Relief Foundation. People respected you and your opinion, which was an interesting choice on their part, but served you well. Ryan had gotten into the school, and he seemed to be liking it, so you hadn’t even been that mad at Ben for threatening the superintendent.

But you also don’t really get mad at Ben. Not ever. You whack his arms and wrinkle your nose and elbow his gut, but he always feels that you don’t mean it, and you never fight him when he tugs you into his arms and kisses you breathless and dizzy. When he mutters promises about fucking you stupid later, and calls you a brat, and chuckles when you grind onto his thigh in the middle of the office, and you miss him so much-

It’s barely been six fucking hours, Sunshine.

You scowl into the air, even as your whole body sings from the feeling of Ben, strong and deep and flaring in your chest. Shut up, you’re supposed to be picking up Ryan-

Already got him. We’re home.

You were supposed to text me, Benjamin-

Why, I’m telling you right fucking now-

Because Singer’s still on our ass. You sigh, tapping your fingers on the back of your phone. And the Ben’o’phone isn’t admissible in a court of law to prove we’re well-suited parents.

Singer can shove it up his fucking dick-

Ben, please- You cut yourself off as your phone buzzes, the screen lighting up with a message.

Benjamin; Stupid fucking handsome asshole husband

Ryans hoem

R u fuckingg happy sunshine

You smile, typing back Yes. Thank you, grumpy.

Shut the fuck up, Ben grumbles in your head, and all his adoration flares in your chest as you smile into the air like an idiot.

I love you, you massive fucking man-child.

I love you too, brat. Why the fuck aren’t you home yet.

You can almost picture his half-pouting scowl, feel the warmth of his body around you and smell pine drifting through the air. Meeting with everyone.

Everyone.

Yep.

Why the fuck is everyone meeting without me-

Because you’re picking up Ryan.

We could’ve made fucking Butcher do that-

Butcher doesn’t have a super awesome wife who’s going to tell him everything when she gets home, my love.

There’s a pause, and then Ben mutters between the low words of your friends talking around you, Be fucking fast.

MM says your name, looking between you and the bowl on the center of the table. “You put Ben in there?”

I always am. You nod to MM as Ben moves back to a quiet, warm hum in your chest, and tuck your phone into your pocket. “Yeah. I’ll give him his name when I get home.”

“And we’re sure Ben knows how Secret Santa works?” Hughie scratches the back of his neck with a sheepish expression, and you sigh.

“No. But I can explain it to him.”

“Old cunt ever even celebrated Christmas?” Butcher mutters, his feet kicked up on the table. “He don’t seem like the spirit of givin’ type.”

You flip Butcher off, your words short and firm. “He’s not a million Butcher, he’s celebrated Christmas before.”

Ben seems to love Christmas. Or at least grumpily acknowledge it with a soft, easy glow over his ribs and a relaxed face, which is the closest thing he gets to loving something that’s not you or Ryan. He’d told you, at the beginning of the month, that it was the only time his father didn’t drink as much. The only time his mother got to love him and not be caught between he and his father’s fights. The only time he got something as a child that he wasn’t expected to feel sorry or wasteful for receiving. 

You wish there was some sort of supe that could communicate with ghosts or raise the dead. You’d mimic their powers, bring Ben’s father back, and then kill him again.

“Alright, Love.” Butcher raises his hands up in mock surrender. “Just makin’ sure.”

“Suck my fucking dick-“

“Can we, um,” Annie gives you an apologetic look as she cuts you off. “Can we draw? Now? Everyone has work tomorrow, and I would like to go home and eat my weight in sushi.”

Hughie nods, grinning down at Annie. “And watch Love Island.”

“Love Island?” MM raises his brows, and Annie blushes.

“It’s fun-“

“Names, cunts.” Butcher leans forward, pulling his paper, and looks around at the rest of the group. “Before time get’s all our sorry fuckin arses. Except yours. Love,” Butcher winks at you. “You’re stuck ‘ere till the sun goes out.”

“Eat me, Butcher.”

“Oi, I’m not above tellin the Gov you said that-“

“Ben would kick your sorry ass if you said that, Butcher.” MM’s voice is flat as he interrupts, leaning over the table to draw his paper. “You might be a supe now, but that motherfucker would beat up a mountain if it insulted her honor.”

You snort as Butcher’s sour expression, and give MM a grateful nod. Everyone here knows you don’t really have honor—at least not in a way that matters—but they also know that Ben doesn’t really care about that. His notion of your honor is subjective. You’re, apparently, above killing and straining labor, so he does that for you, but he also threatens congressmen and rude parents of Ryan’s classmates with his wife. You don’t lie to him, but he’s flat out encouraged you to commit perjury. He’d threatened a journalist who said you spread your legs for any powerful supe, but then shoved your knees apart to bury himself inside you and fuck you until you were a slurring, whiny mess under him.

It seems to mostly be about what you think of the insult. If that mountain called you a slut and you laughed, Ben would just glower, standing tall and ridged at your side. If it said the same thing and you stopped talking—cold spreading through your body and a ringing in your ears—Ben would make the mountain regret being born.

You miss him so fucking much.

Once everyone has a name and you’re sure no one’s pulled their own name, you leave Butcher’s apartment with grins and half-goodbyes. You, Annie, MM, and Hughie will all see each other tomorrow, and Frenchie, Kimiko, and Butcher will do the same.

It’s a short drive home from Butcher’s apartment, but that’s by design. For Ryan. Butcher lives in the city, and you and Ben are in the outskirt suburbs. You’d say Ben’s benefitting more from this arrangement—Butcher lives right above their office, while you have to drive to downtown for yours—but you’re the one who fought for this. The one who convinced Ben that Philadelphia would be a good place to live, because there was enough to not get bored, not enough that you’d never have peace, and it was halfway between New York and Washington. Most of the supe cleanup contracts that Ben, Butcher, Frenchie, and Kimiko got contracted for ended up being in New York—you’ve called Ben a murder maid several times, and he always rolls his eyes, kisses the top of your head, and mutters we don’t fucking murder people, we just get them in line when they’re being damn idiots—while a lot of your work is in DC, dealing with the more technical side of the post-Vought mess.

Ben hadn’t wanted you to call it the Soldier Boy Relief Foundation. He’d scowled at you as you’d told him and MM the idea, and their glares had been almost identical.

“There’s no fucking way you’re calling it that.” Ben had snapped, and MM had shot him a look of surprise.

“I mean, not that I don’t agree,” MM had said, scanning over Ben with a frown. “But why the hell do you think that.”

“Because Soldier Boy’s fucking dead. You,” he’d bumped his shoulder with yours, rough affection spreading over his ribs, even as he continued to glower. “Fucking killed him, Sunshine. Don’t use that name.”

You’d wrinkled your nose at him. “First of all, that’s very romantic, Pretty Boy. I’ve always wanted to metaphorically murder my husband.”

Brat-

“But,” you’d continued, kicking Ben’s shin as he’d started to smirk. “I have reasons to name it that.”

MM had scoffed. “There is not a chance you’ve got reasons to justify using that name-“

“It will draw attention.” You’d raised your fingers as you listed the reasons, using a bored, plain tone. “The whole point of this is to get as many victims of Vought and Homelander as much help as possible. Labelling it with Soldier Boy’s name will put it on people’s radar-“

“So would calling it the Starlight or Anomaly relief Foundation-“

You’d shaken your head, giving MM a flat look. “Annie’s supe name is already tainted in the public eye. Mine is controversial. If people hear the Anomaly Relief Foundation, they’ll form an automatic opinion based on the trials and news stories they’ve read. Soldier Boy will get people to actually look at what we’re doing. Older victims will be more likely to come out of the woodwork, supes that admired Ben growing up will be more willing to see what we’re offering them, and congress is full of old white assholes who will love it.”

MM had frowned, but nodded for you to continue, and you’d raised a second finger.

“Vought’s copyright on Soldier Boy expired last year, but Starlight and the Anomaly won’t be available for public use for another forty. Even if Vought goes down, they could drag us with them on petty litigations and technicalities, and we don’t need that right now. Finally,” you’d raised a third finger. “I think it’s poetic, and funny, and rubbing how we won in Homelander stupid dead face.”

You’d won that argument. And the argument about where to live. And the argument about letting Butcher have alternate weekends with Ryan.

That last one had been the easiest to win. For the name debate you’d had to convince Ben and MM, and for the city debate you’d had to convince the whole team of stubborn assholes you called your friends, but for the last one you’d only had to convince Ben. And you always convince Ben. He puts up a grumbled argument, and you tear down his points with teasing, loving words, and he gives in with a grunt. But you always see his small grin, and feel all his love and care and affection bursting from that piece of him near your heart, and he devours your face and neck and cunt until your knees get weak and you almost fall over.

You might love him more than life.

He’s waiting for you when you get home. You barely open the door before he’s on you, sweeping you into a long, deep kiss and groaning down your throat.

Hi, Benjamin. You mumble between your heads, and his chuckle rolls through your whole body.

“Hi, Sunshine.” He grins at you as he pulls away, hauling you up his chest as you gape at him a little stupidly. It’s not fair how he somehow keeps getting more handsome, how a domestic, peaceful life looks so good on him it might drive you insane. How his shirt under your hands is clean and soft and easy to tug on, to pull him back onto your mouth. How, when you finally get your shoes off, they’re on a mat right next to his, and that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. How his beard is so well-trimmed because there’s nothing to rush for, and the whole house smells like pine because of Ben’s constant presence, and when he carries you up the stairs he doesn’t bother to look where he’s going because he already has the path memorized.

“Wait,” you push up on Ben’s chest, dropping your chin on his shoulder. “Ryan-“

“Hi!” Ryan calls your name from downstairs. “I’m doing homework!”

Don’t know how the fuck he’s my blood. Ben mutters in your head, never breaking his pace. He’s all damn smart and good at homework. “You know the drill, Kid?”

“Dinner in forty, only bother you if it’s an emergency!”

Smug pride inflates in Ben’s chest, and when you lean back he’s already grinning at you with darkened, blown out eyes, his half-hard cock already poking at your thigh.

You wrinkle your nose at him. We are not fucking with Ryan in the house.

We fuck with Ryan in the house all the damn time-

When he’s asleep, or watching TV, or has his headphones on. Not when he can hear it.

Then we’ll have him put headphones on-

You are not asking Ryan to use his headphones so we can have sex. You give Ben’s borderline pout a sweet smile, and lean forward to kiss over his beard. But when he goes to bed, I’ll let you do the thing.

Ben’s hunger grows white-hot and ravenous in your body, and when you meet his eyes, they’re darkened and peeling you apart. You have to squirt.

I can’t control that-

Whatever. Ben kicks open the door to your room, shooting you a wink. You have to let me make you fucking squirt, beautiful. No holding back.

You snort. When have you ever held back during sex.

I managed not to fuck you for six goddamn months. His voice is almost a growl in your head, and it’s not help your resolve to not have sex in the slightest. That’s some goddamn restraint, brat. He drops his mouth to that one spot on your throat, sucking and biting until your fingers curl in his hair. You’re fucking hot.

Thanks. Your voice is breathless, even between your heads, and you give a weak pull of Ben’s hair that only spurs him on. Wait, Ben, I need to talk to you-

That makes his pull away in an instant, his attention vigilant as he scans over your face, your skin suddenly wrapped in his concrete resolve. What the fuck is-

Nothing’s wrong. You take his face between your hands, giving him a soft smile. It’s about the meeting with everyone.

The one that you didn’t fucking invite me to.

The one, you swat at his arm, sticking your tongue out. That I’m trying to tell you about now, you big baby.

Fine. Ben grumbles in your head, watching you expectantly. What.

Have you ever done Secret Santa before?

Once. Vought party in the 80s.

You raise your brows at him. Really? How did that go?

I don’t fucking remember-

Well, it was forty years ago. You hold his face between your hands with a mock pout. Is your memory going, Benjamin? Do Ryan and I have to put you in a home-

Shut the fuck up, brat. Ben moves you flat on your back, kissing a very distracting line along your jaw as your finger curl in his hair.

Ben- You tug him back up—because if he keeps that up, you’ll never get around to telling him anything except more—and the asshole rises up with his hunger covering your bones and muscles, his body big and warm and strong over yours-

“Yes, darling?” Ben drawls, smirking down at you, and you scowl.

“You’re such a fucking cunt-“

“You love it,” he shrugs, still hovering over your body. “Tell me what the fuck the meeting was about to so I,” he pushes his knee between your thighs. “Can focus on this.”

Not with Ryan in the house-

You’ll just have to be quiet. He presses his knee up, bumping right over your clit, and grins at your small whine. Tell me about the meeting.

We’re, fuck- You grind pathetically against him, and Ben drops his weight to down to trap you against the mattress stilling the movements. You dick-

I’ll give you my dick. He kisses you once, long and slow, guiding your arms fully around his neck. Just use your fucking words, beautiful.

It’s a miracle you remember how words work, let alone say any of them, because Ben dives back down to your neck—keeping you pinned down as he works you into a gasping, writhing mess under him—and everything becomes very simply Ben in your mind and body.

“I, um,” he nips at your throat, and you have to swallow a moan. “Kimiko wanted to do something, for the Holidays, and Hughie suggested Secret Santa, so we’re, fuck, Ben, we’re doing that-“

Ben rises back up to frown at you, and you whine at the loss. “Doing what.”

“Secret Santa,” you whisper, taking the moment of his distraction to wrap your legs around his torso. “I put your name in, and, um,” you let go of him for a second, fumbling around in your pocket for Ben’s paper, folded neatly while yours was crumpled. “I grabbed yours.”

Ben wraps an arm around you as he sits up, pulling you to fall over his chest and curl in his lap. “That,” he nods to the paper, still in your hand. “Is who I have to get the gift for.”

You nod with a hum, passing it into his hand. “I didn’t look,” you say, watching him un-wrinkle it. “So don’t-“

“Butcher?” Ben looks up at you with a scowl, a hot, stinging itch spreading over his skin and sitting in his fingers. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with Butcher.”

You sigh. “Tell me. Don’t tell me, Ben.”

“I had to fucking tell you,” he snaps your name, glaring at the paper. “I can’t get a gift for fucking Butcher, all he does is fucking work and pussy around, fucking asshole probably doesn’t even want anything like a normal damn human-“

“There has to be something.” You mumble, tapping your fingers on Ben’s arm. “We’ll figure it out, Ben. I’ll help you. But you can’t tell anyone I did, and you have to pretend you don’t think this is stupid-“

“I don’t think it’s stupid-”

You give him a flat look. “Benjamin-“

“I think Butcher’s a fucking ball strainer.” Ben shrugs, fisting his paper into a ball and tossing it onto the floor. “But I’ve got you, Sunshine, so I’m good.”

You flush, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Ball strainer’s a new one. I like it.”

“Good,” Ben mutters, relaxing under your hands, the glow returning in his chest. “Who the fuck did you get.”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why the fuck not, I told you mine-“

“Which you weren’t supposed to do.” You give him a flat look, and he rolls his eyes. “It’s Secret Santa. You’ll find out with everyone else.

“What’s the fucking point of being married,” Ben grumbles, pulling you a little further up his chest. “If my wife won’t tell me all her secrets.”

“You already know all my secrets, Benjamin.”

“Not fucking all of them-“

“This isn’t a secret.” You smile at him, and the glow spreads up his spine. “It’s a surprise.”

“Whatever.” He grumbles. “Sounds like a fucking secret.”

You kiss his cheek with a soft hum. “Grumpy-“

Your words die in a yelp as Ben flips you over, crashing his mouth into yours with a fervor, his hands squeezing and kneading at your waist.

“Brat,” he growls, and you have to bite your tongue to hold down a loud plea of his name. “I’m going to fuck you stupid, Sunshine, make you fucking drool and beg.” He bites on your lower lip, his knee pushing back to your core, and you whimper. “But you need to keep quiet.”

You will not be able to keep quiet. You’re grinding desperately against him, your mouth slack and open, and your whole body warm and sensitive and buzzing with Ben. Leaving wet, open kisses down your neck, replacing his knee with a broad hand cupping your pussy, groaning onto your skin as he twitches against your thigh.

“Ben-“

“Do you need some fucking help?” He drawls, crawling back up over you with a smirk. “Can’t keep that smart, pretty mouth closed?”

“Fuck,” you gasp as he pushes your panties to the side, running one finger between your folds. “God, Ben, fuck you-“

“I will.” He winks at you, his whole body still filled with adoration and hunger as his tone becomes stern. “Just ask real fucking nice, and I’ll fuck you all you damn want, Sunshine.”

“Ben, please-“

“Think you can keep it the fuck down?”

You nod frantically as Ben’s thumb moves to your clit, rubbing around it but never on it. A metallic tang sits in your mouth as you chew through your cheek, and Ben must see the tint of red or feel the sting of pain, because he pulls back suddenly, and you can’t stop your moan of protest.

“Not going to let you fucking hurt yourself.” He mutters, raising your legs up as he pulls off your underwear. You can talk here, he balls up the cloth, rising back up over your body. But that’s it. Got it?

You glance at the underwear in his hand, and swallow as you realize what he means, your mouth falling open without a single other thought.

Fucking words-

Got it. You smile up at him, curling a hand in his shirt to tug him down into a deep, easy kiss, pulling his tongue between your teeth. Fuck me.

He rises back up, scanning over your features with an attentive, rough care that pulls you apart and makes your whole body molten. There’s a sharp, sore ache over his skin and in his muscles, his free hand trailing slowly over your thighs, and God, if he doesn’t fuck you right now you might die.

Please, Ben. You grind up into the air, letting all of your love and thirst for him leak out of your body and into his. Please.

You can see the moment it hits him. His eyes flash, his nostrils flare, and if there was anything holding him back from just fucking you it’s gone. He presses his thumb on your lower lip in a silent request for you to open, and when you do he looks almost feral. He groans as he stuffs your panties into your mouth, tracing broad fingers over your cheekbones and squeezing your waist as he draws back.

Going to go slow, he mutters in your head, angling your hips up into the air so your ass is resting on his thighs, your dripping pussy is fully at his mercy. Take my fucking time.

Ben-

He slaps your pussy once, and your moan is muffled as your eyes roll back in your head.

So fucking wet, he says your name in the silence, smirking at you as he repeats the movement and your hips buck into the air. And fucking needy, already whining and I’ve barely damn touched you-

Please, you widen your eyes at him, your fingers curling in the sheets when he drags his thumb up, over your slit, and presses hard on your clit. Fuck, Ben-

What do you want, darling. He presses his thumb down, angling it so he can tease your already fluttering cunt with two forefingers. You want my fingers? He shoves them deep into you, crooking them as they hit that deep, soft spot that makes everything in your body sing.

Fuck-

Or, he kisses a sloppy path down your chest—pausing only to flick his tongue over your nipple and smirk at your high, muffled noise of need—and moves one hand back to your hips, adjusting you further upwards as he buries his face between your legs. My mouth?

His beard brushes and tickles your thighs as he tongue-fucks you, his nose bumping your clit, and God, it’s everything. Ben’s everything. Just the sight of him—in all his stupid, handsome glory, all of it just for you—makes you dizzy. And he’s touching you like you’re holy and grinning against your cunt as you make high, muffled sounds, and you’re so close already and he’s so good-

Ben. You don’t have to the strength to push up on your elbows and fully look at him, and he’s holding you still with big, warms hands that pull and rub at your skin, so all you can do is moan into the mock-gag and arch your back when he licks a rough stripe up your cunt. Fuck, Ben, I need you, please-

He hums against you, flattening his tongue on your clit as one hand snakes back under your ass, playing and teasing around your cunt, never pushing in. You like this, darling? Like getting my mouth and fingers the needy fucking miracle you are, like it when I fucking worship your perfect pussy-

Yes, please-

He shoves two fingers back into you, pumping and scissoring as he flicks his tongue over that bundle of nerves. Tell me how good it feels, Sunshine, talk to me-

So good, you whine, and he chuckles in a way that rolls right into the tight coil near your gut. Fuck, Ben, fuck me, please-

That what you want? He rises back up with one last suck of your clit, leaving you whining and empty and fuck, he’s so handsome and all yours and looking at you like you’re some sort of god-

Benjamin-

His cock slaps on your clit—you don’t even know when he took off his pants, because everything is just a haze of warm and pine and Ben and good—and you fucking squeal.

You want my fucking cock, beautiful? Want me to make you squirt all over my fucking dick, fuck you like you deserve, fuck you until that smart, pretty mouth is fucking drooling and screaming my name-

Please, you hook your legs around his waist, trying to guide him inside you. Want you-

Beg.

I did, you asshole- The gag barely muffles your moan as Ben teases the head of his cock inside you, and you almost fly off the bed. Fuck, please-

More.

Please, Ben, please fuck me, please-

Good girl. He pushes himself inside you without further warning, primal satisfaction glowing over his ribs and abdomen as ghosting, iridescent fire covers your skin. So fucking beautiful, he growls your name between your heads, dragging himself out and slamming back in with a bruising force. Fucking perfect. So tight and wet for me, Sunshine, always so fucking good-

Ben groans as you squeeze around him, but he doesn’t pick up the pace. He just moves your hips a little higher, towering over you as he slowly thrusts in and out of your aching pussy.

Fuck, you’re a goddamn marvel, beautiful, feel like fucking heaven, could die here-

Ben, you whimper around your underwear, somehow finding the strength to reach up to him. Please, faster-

It’s all he needs. Ben’s praise becomes slurred as he fucks into you at an inhuman pace, his skin slapping sinfully against yours and his cock bumping your cervix with every thrust.

Christ, fuck- He falls over you, kissing over your collarbone before sucking on your neck, his movements becoming jerking and uncontrolled. You’re- fuck- Such a good girl, taking my cock so fucking good, fucking made for me, best fucking pussy I’ve ever seen, fucking love you-

You’re so close. Everything in you is alight and desperate for release, and you’re only a split second from begging for it when Ben groans against you, rising up to watch you with a devout, starved focus you can feel pounding in your heart.

You’re perfect. His voice in your head is deep and so fucking hungry, and you whimper. Cum, Sunshine.

Release rips through your body, and Ben rips your underwear out of your mouth, slamming his lips over yours and kissing you into the mattress. You scream down his throat as he fucks you through your orgasm, and when something warm and wet flows out of your pussy, Ben’s cock starts to jerk and spill into you. It’s so warm and blissful and made of Ben’s ardor and pleasure, and it sends you over the edge once more.

Neither of you try to move for a minute, Ben’s brow dropping to yours as you sit in his safe, certain warmth.

“We’ve got dinner.” He mutters, kissing the space between your eyes as he pulls out of you. “Go shower, beautiful.”

“You need to shower as well-“

“I’ll shower after.” Ben shrugs, rubbing on your thigh as he sits on the edge of the mattress. “You’re a bigger mess than me, darling.”

“Then I,” you mumble, and he rolls his eyes, jagged affection flaring in his body. “And I’m only a mess because you’re a tease, Pretty Boy.”

Ben snorts, leaning down to give you one last, soft kiss. “You love it,” he mutters onto your lips. “See you downstairs.”

You don’t move for a while after the door closes behind him, and you don’t know how long passes when Ben sparks in your chest, his words low in your head.

Move, Sunshine. Dinner’s almost ready.

Shut up. You smile at the ceiling, because he’d known you would still just be lying, fucked out, in bed. I hate you.

No you don’t. You fucking love me. 

I’m allowed to feel two things, cunt.

But you don’t, brat. Say it.

You roll your eyes, pushing up on the bed. I love you, you dick.

I love you too. You feel him glow in your body, and you shuffle to find where Ben had tossed your pants. See you in ten.

You nod mindlessly into the air, and pull your own paper out, smiling easily at the name. See you soon, my love.

—————

Ben worked in a fucking office. He did a goddamn commute every weekday, got dropped off at a fucking office, received a paper bag and a kiss on the cheek from his wife, then worked from nine to fucking five.

In a fucking office.

At a fucking desk.

Ben had a fucking desk. With a computer and stupid chair that spun in a circle and a mug that his son had gotten him. It said World’s Greatest Grandpa, and his wife had almost fallen over laughing when Ben showed it to her.

You think that’s fucking funny, Sunshine-

I know it’s funny, Benjamin. She’s kissed him, alive and beautiful in his arms, leaning into his body like she’d never want to be anywhere else. And they were out of Dad mugs, so it was either that or you being the World’s Best Mom.

Ben had rolled his eyes, then kept that mug where he could see it all the time. At his desk.

In his fucking office.

His office with a horrible fucking paint job, and lights that barely worked, and a printer that he had no damn idea how to use. It was why he made Kimiko print out photos of Her and Ryan, and he spent most of the day just fucking staring at them and bothering Her through the brain connection while she worked.

Because Ben was—as She’d call it—being a dramatic fucking man child. He only actually went in once or twice a week, for briefs on new missions and paperwork on old ones. The worst part of the whole fucking thing was that he still couldn’t figure out the fucking computer, and every few weeks he had to sleep at a hotel in New York for a case. In reality he got paid damn well, woke up next to the most beautiful woman in fucking history every morning, and picked his son up from school every afternoon. He got to do work he didn’t hate, and work with people who he—against his fucking will—liked enough not to kill.

Butcher was calling it a Private Military Company. She called it Supe Cleanup. And murder maid, but most supe cleanup.

She was fucking right. In all the jobs Butcher had found for them, exactly two had been non-supe related. And whatever She said was the goddamn truth anyway, because no matter what Butcher claimed, they worked for Her. She got Neuman to give them all their damn cases, was the one who funded a lot of their fucking bullshit, and She dealt with most of the aftermath. Butcher wouldn’t say it because he was a pathetic fucking pussy, and She wouldn’t say it because she was too kind for her own damn good, but everyone else knew.

She was the fucking boss. She called the shots, and looked damn hot doing it. She was the one who killed Homelander—all Butcher had done was shoot a fucking gun, any asscuck with eyes and hands could’ve done that—and the one who built this shit up in a matter of months. She had the ideas for the supe reform programs, and employed all the lawyers who represented the countless victims of Vought and Homelander. Christ, She even got Butcher the damn license to be a private contractor, and convinced that Defense Secretary pussy to hire them the post-Vought efforts. She was the one with a real damn job.

Ben, Butcher, Frenchie, and Kimiko sat around until someone told them there was work to do, and then they damn did it and went home.

She testified before congress. She dealt with all the fucking press idiots, and offered the supes second chances the pussies didn’t deserve, and made sure everyone got their reparations. Ben wasn’t really sure what the fuck the actual mission statement of Her whole thing was—She’d explained it, tits pressed together as she crossed her arms, and he hadn’t remembered all her big, fancy fucking words—but he knew she was doing something good. She ran a real company, not a group of four fucking assholes.

“It’s not a company, Benjamin.” She’d told him, straddling his torso and pouting down at him as his hands kneaded her skin. “It’s a non-profit.”

“What’s the damn difference,” he’d grumbled, and she’d sighed, tapping her fingers on his chest.

“Well, if it’s a company I don’t get any government funding. And as a non-profit we get exempt from certain taxes, and it lends us a certain credibility, which is important because a lot of people aren’t going to trust us. Which I understand, this is a mess, but we also can’t give the media or public anything that might lend to confirmation bias-“

Ben had pulled Her down as she started to spiral into a fucking overdrive, and kissed her until she relaxed in his arms.

Don’t fucking hurt yourself, Sunshine. He’d muttered. You had me with ‘well’.

That was- She’d let out a small gasp as Ben nipped on her upper lip, her voice breathy in their heads. I hadn’t even started talking-

I know. He’d smirked against Her, rolling them over so he could look down at Her beautiful face, how it was open and easy and all his to keep joyful. You have me all the damn time, darling.

Good. She’d smiled up at him, Ben might have drowned in how fucking perfect she was. Because you have me as well.

He didn’t have Her now. Ben had Her everywhere in the world, except in his arms. She was in the flicking, golden light of the office, and the off-key, horrible fucking humming Butcher was doing across the room, and wallpaper of his phone. Both She and Ryan were in pieces all over Ben’s desk as well. Not just in the pictures, but the little paper guide She’d made him to the internet. It told him how shit like URLs and emails and incognito mode worked, and it was in Her handwriting because She loved him enough to help him with this. Ryan had contributed, and drawn a little fucking smile on the corner of one of the pages, and Ben kept it open to that section all the damn time.

Ryan was mostly in that stupid damn mug that Ben kept on his desk every moment, even when he wasn’t using it.

She was mostly in the ring on Ben’s finger. Matching Her’s, the only thing he ever owned that he gave a shit about. He’d had houses and trophies and diamonds and stupid fucking crystal plates that barely damn worked, but they’d all been replaceable. This ring wasn’t. It was made of all the stupid scrap Frenchie had found in the pawn shop, and fireproof because his beautiful, perfect wife was a fucking menace.

And She wasn’t fucking replaceable. The ring proved that Ben had Her—alive in his body and consuming his every damn thought—and he’d never fucking lose Her. He simply fucking refused to, because he’d never, ever be able to find someone he knew how to love half as much. Christ, he’d never had a goddamn chance, because loving Her might be the only thing Ben had ever been a natural at. He’d learned how to do it without effort, like it was something he was born for, and he’d never want to do anything else again. He was the only pussy in the world who was worthy of it, as well.

Ben was worthy of Her, because he fucking understood that She was priceless and holy. That loving Her was a task, but fuck it was worth it. Every nightmare and hollow, glassy stare when she retreated back into pain—the feeling like torture in Ben’s body, making him feel fucking sick until she smiled again—was well worth it to love Her. Worth how he might not be the only one who got to see all Her damn perfection on the surface—beauty and kindness and smart words that came with a smarter fucking brain—but it was Ben alone who got to see everything. The whole picture of this insane, infuriating, perfect woman.

And fuck, She was a masterpiece. And She was all fucking Ben’s. All his to tend to and hold, all his to throw around and fight besides, all his to grin at and care for and really fucking love. All Ben’s to give the whole damn world, and then reduce it all to a moan of his name when he fucked Her. When he buried his head in Her pretty pussy that tasted like a heady, slightly bitter, powerful fucking drug and rubbed Her clit until she squirted all over his fucking face. All Ben’s to trace with worshipping, firm hands, all Ben’s to get fucking high on.

Because sometimes he’d have his hand braced near Her head as he fucked her, and she’d be a needy fucking mess under him, and he’d trace fingers over Her lips and cheekbones before brushing the hair from Her face.

And his ring would catch the light through their blind shades.

And Ben would lose his fucking mind.

He’d hit a pace that was inhuman, and kiss Her everywhere he could fucking reach. Breathing would feel pointless, because he had his wife under him, screaming his name and being the only thing in the whole world that mattered. All of Ben’s existence would narrow to his mouth on her own, or kissing at Her breasts, or sucking on her clit. His hands would be for squeezing and pulling Her skin, or tracing and teasing over her perfect body, or thrusting fingers in and out of Her pussy. Shoving them deep enough his ring would come out covered in her arousal, crooking them until she was pleading and whining under him, and tasting Her when he pulled them out, leaving Her ruined and whimpering on the edge.

And he’d split Her open on his cock, make Her say his name like a prayer, and fuck Her until she squirted all over his cock and he could pump her full of his cum-

Stop distracting me, Benjamin.

I didn’t fucking do anything. He drawled Her name between their heads, smirking into the air. You’re the one who’s distracting me, brat.

Shut up, you’re probably at your desk watching baseball. And you know what you fucking did.

Ben rolled his eyes, turning off his monitor, and with it the MBA game. I don’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about, Sunshine, you spoke first-

Because you started getting horny and loud in my brain, and I’m at work. I can’t start masturbating while I talk to MM and Hughie, they’ll never look me in the eyes again.

Tell them to fucking leave.

I’m not kicking them out of our meeting so we can have mind sex.

You’ve kicked them out so we can have real sex-

Ben could almost see the wrinkle of Her nose. That’s not the same, you looked like you were going to kill them if they didn’t leave-

I hadn’t seen you in a fucking week-

Three days, don’t be dramatic-

And, Ben ignored Her, pushing on. Those pussies chose to leave, it’s not like I fucking threatened them-

They could see your boner, my love. Her voice was bored and amused in his head, and Ben wanted to fucking eat the sound and turn it into a moan. And you almost broke down my door demanding we go on a date, and I quote, ‘right fucking now’-

We should go on a date-

Ben-

Tonight, darling, keep your damn head on. You can stash Ryan at Butcher’s, the asshole looks fucking lonely anyway-

Don’t call it stashing, Ben-

Fine, drop him there after you pick him up-

I was actually, um, I was going to- She paused, and Ben could almost hear her nervous swallow. I wanted to ask, and you can say no, but I-

Words, darling-

Could you pick up Ryan today? I have to go do something.

Ben frowned into the air. Something.

Her voice hummed in his head. Yeah.

Are you going to fucking tell me-

No. It’s a surprise.

It’s a fucking secret-

Ben. Her voice was soft and gentle in his head, and that alone made his frown drop to what She called a pout.

What.

If it was a secret, I would’ve told you I’m working late, or going out with Annie and Kimiko, or something else stupid. But it’s not a secret, I just can’t tell you right now.

She was right. She was always fucking right, and Ben had an idea what this was, but he still missed Her. Wanted to touch her and walk with her and make Her bury her face in his arm when he teased her. You’re going to fucking tell me.

I promise that, by the end of the month, I will have told you. And we can do that date on Christmas eve. Whatever you want.

You don’t have to damn bribe me-

I know. She sighed in the silence, and something in Ben ached as Her own guilt clouded over his eyes. But I want to go on a date with you. And I really want to tell you what I’m doing-

You’re getting a gift. Ben said between their heads, and there was a brief silence before She responded.

Shut up.

Ben drawled Her name, grinning at the air. You’re going to get your gift for the stupid fucking Santa thing-

No, I need to go to the mall for that. Actually, She paused, and Ben felt a smile tug at his lips as he pictured Her pretty face starting into the air, her fingers tapping her desk or leg. Could you take Ryan to the mall? Help him get his gifts? And maybe new pants, I think he grew again-

You have to go with us to get the tree.

If Her nose hadn’t been wrinkling before, it sure as fuck was now. I thought I didn’t have to bribe you, Pretty Boy-

It’s not a fucking bribe, Sunshine, it’s a deal. You go do your secret shit-

My surprise shit-

And I’ll get Ryan and do the fucking shopping. But we’re doing that date, and you’re coming with us for the tree.

Okay. Deal. Ben?

He grunted Her name between their heads, and something warm spread over his whole body at the sound of Her sweet, sharp, infinitely adoring voice.

I love you. She whispered. Thank you-

Don’t. Ben muttered. I love you too. But if you’re not home by midnight I’m finding you and carrying you back.

Her giggle was soft in the silence of the office, and Ben didn’t bother to fight the wide grin on his face. Promise?

Brat.

Cunt.

She faded back into a quiet, perfect presence over Ben’s skull, and now he actually had to damn work. But then he’d get to pick Ryan up—Ben didn’t fucking know how shopping worked without Her there, and he didn’t think Ryan would either, but they’d figure it out—and kiss Her dumb when she got back from whatever the hell she was doing.

She’d tell him. Ben didn’t have a single fucking doubt She’d tell him, because they didn’t keep secrets from each other. Ben could feel Her all the fucking time, and knew exactly where she was across the city, and he didn’t have a single damn desire to keep anything from Her at all. He didn’t see the point in it. That’s what fucking marriage was for, Ben giving his everything to Her, while She gave every part of her right back.

It’s why he was so fucking ready for the holidays. Ben hadn’t had a real Christmas since he was fucking six or seven. They’d either been spent at boarding schools or in military camps through his youth, or at drug-fueled parties through his career. Or just fucking alone. When everyone had people to go to that they cared about more, and Ben didn’t have a single fucking person who saw him as their person.

He’d told Her that, and something soft and pained had flashed over her beautiful face as she held his face between his hands. He’d expected an age joke—So in a hundred fucking years, Pretty Boy?—but all he’d gotten was a gentle, slow kiss and loving words.

You’re my person, Benjamin. She’d mumbled against his lips. And as long as you’re stuck with that, we can do whatever you want for Christmas.

I’m not fucking stuck with it, he’d grumbled, hauling Her up his chest. I love you, Sunshine, you’re not getting rid of me until I fucking die.

She’d hummed, smiling at him. So in like a year, old man?

Ben had rolled his eyes—there She was—and kissed Her until she was squirming above him, then fucked up into her as she screamed his name.

And he didn’t really fucking want much else. There were to many damn traditions for this shit. Activities he didn’t understand, and mistletoe he didn’t fucking care about—he didn’t need a damn plant to tell him when to kiss his wife—and cards that were fucking pointless because they had six friends who they saw every damn day.

He wanted to do some of it though. Ben wanted to eat all the food, and watch whatever movie She told him to—he didn’t understand how a movie about the Grinch could be the best Christmas movie ever fucking made, Benjamin, but he’d watch most anything if She sat with him —and he really wanted to do the tree. To get a big one that made the whole house smell good, and he could cover it in stupid lights.

It should be rainbow lights. She’d fucking love rainbow lights, so Ben should get rainbow lights.

Ben should get them a lot of fucking things. He should get Ryan whatever the hell the kid needed to be a kid, and Ben hadn’t been a kid since the fucking 20s, so he’d have to ask Her and see what that shit looked like now. Probably sports gear, and a real phone that wasn’t a damn brick, and a trip to some museums because Ryan was like Her, and they both liked smart shit, and museums were full of smart shit.

She should get a trip to a museum as well, just Her and Ben. She should get twenty more houses, and a massive library that was just for Her to be a genius in, and as many breaks and vacations as Ben could drag her on. Back to their villa in Rome every summer, and up to Boston to visit Her sister, and every other beautiful place in the world.

She should get the fucking world. Ben should be able to drag the sun down from the sky for Her to hold, and break of a piece of the moon for Her to touch.

But this—a normal, easy holiday where Ben could buy find Her something as perfect as she was for a gift—was going to be damn good place to start.

End Note: It was bold of any of them to think Ben would be able to keep any sort of secret from Her.

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Taglist

@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles @brtodd @ej13928

@deansbbyx

[aajjks]

mommy issues!JK

you’re so oblivious to the damage you dealt to jungkook’s feelings. it’s hard to put the blame on you for what happened last night when it wasn’t even your fault but didn’t you hear that their marriage was arranged? he didn’t choose nara but judging from the bright smile on your face, you don’t seem to care as much. you must not care at all seeing as chaeyoung is right by your side and unbeknownst to you, she mouths ‘she’s mine, tattletale’ before bidding you a goodbye.

seol is so focused on hugging you that pay no mind the glares chaeyoung sends at his father but it’s not like he’s paying attention. especially when your focus is finally on him after buttering up his son for a minute or two. “good morning, mr. jeon. before i forget, here is our field trip packet. we’re going to the aquarium next month but i need you to fill this out so seol can go and before you ask, yes parents are allowed to come to the aquarium, if you can” you hand jungkook the small packet with all the information you typed up. you love aquariums and you’ve been telling the principal about this trip for months now.

it’s nice, all of this is nice. talking to you always makes his day but the conversation is cut short when a child comes running up to you. you give the smaller child a tight hug before saying “sorry mr. jeon, i uh..you know? just email it to me. have a nice day!” and immediately, you talk to the parent of the smaller child about the field trip you told jungkook.

jungkook makes sure to bid seol one last goodbye before leaving the classroom and leaving the school building to be alone with his depressing thoughts. he wants you so bad but you’re not making it easy for him and his patience is getting thinner and thinner by the day. he just wants you to love him and only you, is that too much to ask?

“is that mister manager?” eunwoo jokes but jungkook isn’t in the mood for the jokes which worries his friend a little. “what’s wrong? is seol sick? was y/n absent today? did the dinner not go well last night?” eunwoo knows bombing jungkook with questions won’t make him feel any better but he knows jungkook better than anyone and he’s pretty emotional sometimes.

jungkook leads eunwoo to his office so the two could talk and that’s when he tells his friend about what happened with you last night.

“you TOLD her about nara? dude, no! all you had to do was ask her out, she could’ve found out about nara once you made it past the ‘talking’ stage”

“you gotta think what she’s thinking. y/n’s already weirded out because she teaches your kid, telling her that made it worse, man. did she act weird about it? like, she’s still talking to you, right?”

~🫧

Jungkook buries his head in his hands, when his friend starts to lecture him about the do’s and the don’ts the first date. But why is he blaming him when it’s so fucking hard to read you?

You don’t make it easy for him at all.

“I just wanted to give her a heads up because I didn’t want her to blame me if anything happened with Nara. And she probably doesn’t even like me anymore, so what is the point of her declining to go on the dinner?” He whines, he’s a brat, and he’s really moody when he doesn’t get what he wants.

Eunwoo listens to him. Jungkooks just so frustrated.

He’s really hard to work for anything in his life, and especially not when it came to love. But you’re so different and you intimidate him.

But now he’s going to intimidate you.

“ What is weird about her dating me even if she is my son’s teacher?!” he almost screams and he’s actually thankful that there is no vase next to him because he’s going to throw it.

Why can’t you just give him a hint?

“she doesn’t want me and I feel like a fucking loser.” Maybe he shouldn’t have told you about his ex, but he’s always been honest with you but whenever he’s honest with you, it backfires.

And that bitch. “There is a bitch and she likes yn- yn is also into girls- I don’t know- I stand no chance!” Maybe you do like girls more than boys because you don’t even spare him a glance.

He wants you. Why can’t you see it then? If you can then, why don’t you acknowledge it? “how can I make her go to the dinner with me? I cannot just kidnap her and force her to do it even though I could do that, but she won’t love me then.” The only reason he’s not snapping right now is because he really wants to earn your love and he does it by force you’re never going to love him.

You’re an independent and strong woman, and he loves that about you, but, you also know how to frustrate him to no end.

Should he just kill Chaeyoung? He just might.

“Should I seduce her? I’m not even sure about my skills anymore.”

He’s having a full dilemma right now and he feels fucking pathetic, God, he should just tie you up and hide you away in his home.

Forcefully make you marry him, and then everything will be right. “Please I can’t lose her!” he is begging to his friend and his eyes are a little red.

What has happened to him? What have you done to him? “She did say that there is an upcoming aquarium trip and the parents are allowed to come so you’re gonna be there and… maybe I could also go and try to win her heart, but it seems very hard” he sighs, watching his friend. “You gotta help me out before I become a murderer.”

[bizkitsnuggets]

01, TUNAS ARE DUMB.

masterlist.

The girl sat on her designated seat, letting her bag hang onto the hanger beside her table. Awaiting for class to finally begin. She took out her notebook and pencil case from her bag, sketching out what seems to be like a type of fish you'd see commonly in Japan.

This fish was a bluefin tuna.

It has a streamlined body with a metallic-blue like color on the upper side and a silver-white color on the lower side.

The girl wasn't too fond of this fish, it wasn't all that special to her.

There's more fishes in the sea.

She'd thought to herself every time she saw this fish in popular seafood restaurants around her area. But somehow, it was alluring. Making her interested when in her mind she couldn't give a fuck less about it.

It didn't have pretty colors, it looked boring, and it's not even a rare fish. There's cooler ones out there.

Yet, why…

“Everybody quiet down!" The teacher barged into the room, making his way to the middle of class. “Good morning everybody! Glad to see you all again." He gave the class a big grin.

The students didn't respond as they didn't have the energy to. It was seven in the morning and they had just finished their summer break, could you really expect them to be energetic this early?

The teacher visibly sweated at this but chose to ignore it. “Alright then! Let's start with role calls shall we? Amajiki-san?”

He called out names after names when he finally got to her. “[L/N]-san?”

"Here”.

The girl looked around the class, finally taking in the fact that all her classmates are here. In a few months, they'll all be graduating. Most of them probably won't pass though.

Especially that Kujo Jotaro.

He's a delinquent that skips almost every class. If you'd see even his shadow in the classroom, you'd be called lucky.

What the hell? He actually attended class huh? I guess cause it's the first day.

He looks like he was held back for two years, his voice sounds raspy because of all those cigarettes he smoked while skipping class. [Y/N] was bewildered by the fact that he even passed his second year.

But even with an attitude like that, he's still admired by the many girls in the school. [Y/N] had no idea why. It could be because those girls just fantasize about falling in love with a ‘bad boy’. But Kujo Jotaro? Really? Anyone could see that he's bad news.

────────────────────────────────

To everyone's relief, it was finally time for the first lunch break. Most of the people headed out to the 7/11 that was near the school, and some others stayed back to eat their packed lunch.

[Y/N] was one of the people who couldn't care less about bringing her own lunch. It was a nuisance, especially in the morning where she has to get ready for school and on top of that do all the housework at the same time. She's gotten used to it by now though, but still, packing her own lunch wasn't all that important to her.

She got out of the classroom and made her way to the store. Taking a shortcut so she wouldn't have to wait in line to pay. But as she was nearing it, she saw a trail of smoke from the alley way she was about to go in.

Oh, who would've guessed.

Let's play a quick trivia. Who was out there smoking his ass off at lunch?

A. The Principal

B. A talking turtle

C. A motorcycle that needed a break

I'll give you three seconds to guess.

.

.

.

Three seconds is up. The answer is…

None of them, you moron. It was obviously Kujo Jotaro.

[Y/N] stood straight as she proceeded her walk into the alley way. Normal people would've shat their pants going in, but not [Y/N]. Jotaro wouldn't hurt a girl in broad daylight. And as long as she doesn't provoke him in any way, she's safe.

The girl walked in, not gaining a reaction from said boy. She made eye contact with him, observing his stance. Even if she was almost ninety nine percent positive that this man wouldn't hurt her, she still needed to be careful.

Their stare at each other felt longer than it needed to be. His deep spring green eyes stared back at her [E/C] ones.

After that intense stare off, the girl succeeded in escaping his piercing gaze. Not long after, she arrived at her destination.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

[slowing-down-in-style]

"I don't understand why you're anxious about a game."

Chris and I started doing crossword puzzles together today. He's done them as long as I've known him and I've recently started doing them as a way to pass the time because of his enthusiasm for them. And yes of course, I'm starting to really enjoy them too but I'm not great at things like this. At least, I keep telling myself I'm not. I need to stop that, I know. I think it's something you can get better at with practice. I just never had anyone who did them who could show me how fun they are. I always saw them as puzzles for intellectuals, which I have never considered myself being. So I feel like a beginner. Which isn't bad but... I've got some anxiety with this that I need to tackle. So, lets break it down.

These crossword puzzles are timed and it gave me flash backs to 3rd grade math where we would be learning our times tables. The teacher would have a stop watch and we had to answer as many problems as we could within a certain amount of time. We were graded on how many we could complete that were also right.

God I wish I could explain how much anxiety that shit gave me. What an awful way to teach kids to do math. Just memorize it! And quickly! Don't understand it, just memorize it!

A little more background for you here. I suck at math. I always have. I moved schools a lot and that really didn't help things because all the schools were at different levels on what they were teaching and when. Teachers weren't great at making sure that the new kids to the district, let alone to the school year, were all caught up with the rest of the class and my mom never bothered to fuck with a tutor. Math was the hardest one to catch back up on every time I moved.

Want to know what made it even worse? There was a kid in my 3rd grade class who, instead of tutoring the students around him who also sucked at math, would just say the answers under his breath just loud enough for us to hear him. "1. twelve. 2. four. 3. forty. 4. twenty" and so on. Resisting the temptation to just ignore him was impossible. I'd find myself writing down a few of his given answers, they were always right of course- he was a wiz at math, and for the other ones I didn't know or didn't try on (because after all we are under a timer here! chop chop!) I would just guess. There were always a few here and there that I knew... basically anything under 5x5 and I was good. And I could do the finger trick when multiplying by nine but like... that only works up to 9x9 and that's not efficient when you're on a timer!

So, I'd flounder. Cheat just enough to make it look like I sorta knew what was going on but then the rest of the time I'd sit in class not understanding on top not feeling like I had a safe avenue to speak up. No one else in the class was having a problem. No one else didn't understand and asked the teacher to explain. I didn't want to slow the rest of the class down. I didn't want to be the kid everyone rolled their eyes at and would get frustrated at. "We have to keep doing this because Kaitlin doesn't understand."

I got bullied enough for my name and my glasses. I didn't need bullied for being dumb on top of it. So, I kept my head down. The teacher I had didn't help either. Mrs. Eiper. This teacher had it out for me, it's a story for another day but I had had her as a teacher at another school before. She had made me cry on more than one occasion and my mom even pulled me from the school district because of this teacher after several months of fighting with the board and Principal about her. I somehow ended up having her AGAIN as a teacher in a different district, this time around as a Math teacher. (Because of course it would be math) She would make fun of us if we didn't catch on. She would make examples out of us. We would get put in "the box" if we failed or didn't understand or pay attention. Yes, an actual box she would shut us away in, in the corner of the classroom. This bitch was a few steps shy of being my own personal Trunchbull from Matilda.

Anyways, lets get back on track. Anxiety about crossword puzzles with Chris. Let me add here- I LOVE the idea of doing crossword puzzles with him and this is something I want to tackle and get the fuck over. But it's a combination of the clock, the fact that I know he's way better at these and he's watching me for how I solve them that is giving me the anxiety. He's watching, but in a good way, not a judgmental one like my teacher would have. I have to remind myself of that. He'd never treat me the way she did. Not ever.

i dont want to mess you up...

"there aren't any wrong answers. this isn't life or death"

i didn't want to mess you up and slow you down and i know you're really good at these

"i don't really care about the time. you have nothing to be anxious about. I like watching your brain work"

"I like watching you try not to think so linearly."

While I know this comes from a place of love, him wanting to understand my brain and encourage me to grow in an area I want to grow in... I've got some work to do on working through the feels associated with it.

[suzyblue0292]

@r7skt sorry it took so long to reply. Had to do the teaching before I could type about the teaching.

Two quick misconceptions about teaching:

1. We are not 12month employees. We are contracted employees for the months school is in session. Some if not most schools with hold part of each month’s paycheck so we can survive in the summer. A few schools expect you to do this yourself. Which is hard because if there’s an emergency then that money is very tempting.

Despite that most teachers work on their curriculum, classrooms, and professional development (all of which we often pay for out of our own pockets) during those non-contract months.

Many of us also work other jobs during that time - and the school year.

2. We don’t just work the hours school is in session. We have stated contract hours we are to be on campus- generally around 30 minutes before and after first and last bells. Most teachers are there hours before after or both at least a few days a week. And that’s just teachers - coaches, principals, counselors live at the school. Coaches have to run practices, there has to be a principal at every school event, counselors and principals are drowning in paperwork. And that just covers the work we do at school- most of us work at home as well. The reason any teacher protest/walkout begins with a contract hours only step is because schools don’t function when those are the only hours we work.

The kids are the worst part of teaching. The kids are the only reason I teach. There’s nothing better than seeing a kid “get it.” Or building relationships with them. They are sweet and helpful and funny. Loving them is so fucking easy.

There is nothing more exhausting than being insulted to your face by people you care about more than anything just for doing your job/the right/adult thing.

When I worked in tech one of my supervisors said that 10 percent of your clients cause 90 percent of your problems. Same thing in teaching. Most kids know when they’ve screwed up and will own it. But oh my god the ones that don’t. Whatever they did or didn’t do is your fault not theirs. And 9 times out of 10 their parents will come for you and maybe your job as well. And the thing is you love the kids anyway. Which is why it hurts so much.

Just Google Ed laws if you’re not already familiar with the BS going on in various states right now. Ryan Walters in particular will bring you a wealth of insanity.

Trying to create an ELA curriculum is beyond headache creating in our current political climate. Granted I teach in a rural school (although I have taught at large ones) in a Bible Belt state.

Do not believe anything you see on the inspirational teaching movies. It doesn’t work like that.

Teaching is a lot more than standing in front of a room talking or even marking papers. You plan the lessons for each week (I prep 20 a week - each 50 minutes long because I teach English I, II, III, IV). Once you know what you’re teaching you have to get together the materials for all the lessons printed/posted, etc. then you teach it, then you grade it, then you analyze the data from the grades work to see if the kids learned it or if you need to reteach it. Generally while fielding emails and verbal complaints about why you’re not grading faster, because someone has always turned something in late that they want graded immediately. You’re also dealing with discipline issues, tech issues, issues from whatever club you sponsor, setting up testing dates, taking webinars. I am also my school’s coordinator for our states career portfolio program that all kids have to complete before graduation. And if you teach English every branch of the military will come to your class to give recruitment speeches multiple times junior and senior year. In fact anyone the school allows to speak with the kids that isn’t an assembly will happen in English because it the only required 4 year course so they get to everyone. Same with paperwork- need to get it everyone- English dept.

How much time do you have in your day to complete all these non teaching tasks? 50 minutes. And your 20 minute lunch. I’m fortunate enough to work at a school where they allow you to work at your desk if the kids are working, but some schools require teachers to be on their feet walking the room if there are kids present.

If you have questions hit me up!!

I’ll continue if I can think of anything else, but I’ve got lesson plans to finish for Monday😭🤣😭🤣

I know a lot of people hc Jason as an English teacher. I like it, I do. But let me be real with you 9 days out of 10 this is the conversation he comes home to:

“How was work?”

“I fucking miss being a crime lord. That’s how.”

[4dtk]

pas de deux — gojo satoru

pas de deux [pa•de•de] (french, literally “step of two”), a dance duet. 

summary: striving to become a principal dancer, you’re unaware of the curious blue eyes from across the studio, only knowing of his reputation from rumours. when you have to shadow your seniors to learn a principal role and meet the infamous gojo satoru, what happens then?

word count: 11k lmfao

genre: a bit of angst, mostly fluff

a/n: gojo brainrot done. sorry this took so long lol i’m not used to writing long fics but i’m glad i did bc this is acts also as a place for me to dump my passion of ballet aha :”)

playlist here! most of them are classical pieces and a bit of ballet class music, i hope you don’t mind uwu. personally, i’d recommend watching (before or after the fic doesn’t matter hahah) the crazy talented marianela nuñez and vadim muntagirov in the pas de deux that i reference a lot in this fic. they’re my absolute favourite! (´･ᴗ･ ` )

tags: @fiona782​

it was unconventional to see a ballerino don white hair during rehearsals, let alone in a company; the familiar head of white whizzes through the studio like an angel of the night, with graceful moves and powerful jumps to match those of a faerie's seamless manoeuvers through her flowers.

that was only expected out of a principal anyway.

gojo satoru, a principal dancer of the six eyes theatre. they were part of the three prominent companies that carried the ballet world and industry. behind all the glimmer and glitz lay hours of endless rehearsals and worn-out pointe shoes, as well as smiles behind kitri's fans or even the emotional miming from giselle.

he was untouchable, a leading face that carried the ballets he starred in with immense skill and an aura admired by everyone. anyone lucky to score a pas de deux with him would be torn between a world of conflict. those soft eyes that looked down at you with love were solely meant to portray siegfried's ardour for odette and nothing else.

you sigh, eyeing the confident man giving his all in the company class, no doubt hyping himself up for tonight's last show. you couldn't fall behind, either, knowing your performance was monitored way more now that you were considered amongst the directors to be promoted to principal.

"next group, pay attention, loves!" the teacher for the morning caught your attention, letting the chattering group in front head out first before the next group of dancers took their turn. 

dancing was all you could remember, taking up most of your life even when you were a kid. through competitions and gruelling schedules, you managed to land in the six eyes theatre. sure, it wasn't as popular as the zen'in company or the kamo national ballet but, it still held up a wicked reputation, partially thanks to gojo satoru. 

your feet naturally hail your command, placing it behind the other in a curtsey to thank the instructor for the morning class as you stretch your feet in some simple pointe repertoire. 

"nervous about your posting, (y/n)?" nobara asks, rolling the arch of her feet back and forth with a tennis ball.

you shrugged, "in a way, yeah. i'm getting observed on mainly every move that i make."

the smile your best friend gives you calms you down, at least. megumi chipped in, "hey, you'll become one of the best principals around, i know it."

"yeah! and we'll go to your shows, no matter wha... oh, right, we're first soloists," itadori trails off. 

you laugh, settling down to wipe the sweat from your brow. however, there's an uncharacteristic silence when you start to remove your pointe shoes.

"what if i do become principal? i'll miss you guys like hell." you mutter, rubbing off the skin peeling from your toes. removing the tape and toepads, you sigh again even after nobara lands a hand on your arm.

"stop sighing, you idiot, the company's small. sure, you'll have extended rehearsals, and i will now have to deal with yuji's noisy ass, but i doubt we're going to be separated like oil and water." 

you roll your eyes, chuckling a little through glossy eyes, "true. it's just that we've always been together, through the competitions where we met and going up the ranks. hell, i wouldn't even imagine all of us becoming first soloists when we entered six eyes."

megumi raises an eyebrow, "are you underestimating us?" 

putting your fingers together, you offer a sheepish smile, "just a little."

"and now you're going to become a principal, (y/n). we all know you put yourself to crazy standards that you always reach, maybe even higher than that. you're going to kill it as a principal, i'm sure."

thankful to nobara for the little speech, you pat her arm gently, easing into a stretch to prevent any tensing up later in an afternoon class. 

"(y/n), they're coming over, look sharp," itadori notifies you, turning to the barre to do his own stretching as your friends busy themselves with their phones.

you take another curtsey at your instructor, along with the director of six eyes, masamichi yaga.

why... was he here now?

"(y/n), love, we'll need to talk to you about something. would you mind coming to the office later on? just before the company's afternoon class at 2 would be good."

you were at a loss for words.

was i already raised to principal? no... they wouldn't promote someone who's only danced her first soloist role a couple of times. were they going to remove me for consideration? maybe they found a better dancer to monitor?

"it's nothing terrible, (y/n), i promise." with a smile, masamichi walks away, not before patting your shoulder for reassurance.

the next few hours go by in a flash: eating lunch, lazing around in the studio, filming some tiktoks and then getting ready for another class took up most of your time that you didn't get to ponder over the office visit.

so you were definitely surprised to see gojo satoru himself, a shit-eating grin on his face once he hears you enter. he lays back on both arms to welcome the first soloist, you. 

you curtseyed again to ms ieiri and masamichi. before you got to gojo, however, he held a hand up before standing up himself to bow. you let out a small smile as the familiar step led you to curtsey on the other foot.

it left a weird feeling in your bones to greet a principal dancer, but you two weren't all that close, anyway. plus, curtseying was basic courtesy in the company, where actions spoke louder than a "good morning" or a "thank you".

"nice to see you, (y/n). miss nitta, as you know," masamichi gestured to your teacher and then to the white-haired man, whose beauty never fails to amaze you, as cliche as it sounds, "and gojo satoru." 

"nice to finally talk to you, miss (y/n)," he nods his head, wearing an attractive smile that had you sucking in a breath. you could only manage a smile at the moment, brought back to reality when masamichi's firm voice resonates in the office.

"you've done a tremendous job these past few months, love. we've been watching your roles this season, hopping from one position to the other with no problem at all. i'm sure you were informed that you were being considered to be principal..." you leaned forward in anticipation, "...although you'd have to let your skill shine through more before we promote you to principal any time soon."

bummer, but it's nothing you can't handle.

"we do have something to ask of you, however. your potential is clearly set in the right place, and your talent and determination are not lost. we want you to shadow and learn the repertoire of shoko ieiri and gojo satoru while they rehearse for the next season's premiere."

nevermind, it might actually be something you can't handle.

"me?"

masamichi only lets out a knowing smile. "are you up for the challenge, (y/n)? you'll get to learn and watch how principals rehearse, act and mime out the story in the hands of ballet masters and mistresses like kiyotaka ijichi and mei mei and even tengen hoshi." 

your fingers dug into your thigh at the well-known names, always seeing them in the corridors but never knew how they taught or conducted rehearsals. this was your chance.

"of course, director masamichi. i'd be honoured to observe and shadow the company's principal dancers, let alone miss shoko ieiri and mr gojo satoru here. their chemistry onstage is honestly unmatched!"

okay, shut up, (y/n). you're laying your fangirling thoughts on the actual director of six eyes theatre. a simple yes would've sufficed.

"great! you start tomorrow. skip the afternoon class and come straight to the studio on the ground floor. we'll be expecting you."

you couldn't help the grin that appears on your face this time, passing a bow to everyone in the room before curtseying and almost exclaiming a "thank you!"

once you're out of the professional eye, you have a little celebratory dance outside the office, immediately fishing out your phone to text the trio. 

"a...ah! gojo senpai!" you take a step back in instinct, the tall principal looming over you with nothing but an intimidating air around him.

however, nothing screams intimidating on his face, as he shoots you a polite smile and a hand to get introductions out of the way.

all you can think about is his large hand enveloping yours while he tells you his name. you're stuck in a trance, locked on his eyes cut off by the black of his sunglasses. 

how would those hands feel on my hips when he's lifting me? or maybe we'd engage in a kiss in romeo and juliet...? are we doing r&j for the next season's shows?

fuck.

"uh- yes, nice to meet you too, senpai! i-"

"call me gojo, (y/n)."

you're at a loss for words, the man knowing he's left you speechless with the way he's smirking off into the other direction. you manage to get the prodigy out of your head, willing yourself to get to the company class as soon as possible. since your distraction was gone and the air cleared of any tension, you were able to hear the voices in the office.

"are you sure about this, nitta? we can't have any more dancers off their game just because they were enamoured with satoru to the point of confessing their love to him. every time we get first soloists and principals to pair with him, something always comes up."

"i'm sure, director. (y/n)'s mettle and focus on her roles are strong, and her skills are off the charts. if anything happens, we'll just pair her with another principal, like kento or something." masamichi sounded unconvinced, grunting as their footsteps increased in volume.

company class! company class!

you slipped into the studio just in time to avoid nitta and masamichi, carrying your things as you looked for the trio.

"(y/n)!" yuji catches your attention, although a little too loudly for your liking. you were left to greet the other dancers on the way to their corner, dumping your bag with much more exasperation than you expected.

"what's wrong?" megumi asks, doing some plies at the bar to warm up his feet and muscles.

"i think i should text y'all instead. let's wait for after the show tonight."

you get three nods from the trio in reply, dropping into some simple stretches as the next instructor takes over. at least gojo wasn't here...

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

the applause was deafening as you take your bow, thanking the audiences from the balcony and stalls as you gestured to your pas de deux partner, megumi. putting your hand in front of your heart was a big thing to do, giving thanks to one of your best friends and partners for a fun pair such as bluebird and princess florine. 

as you walked back to join the other dancers, the principal roles were taking their bows with no doubt roars and cheers from the audience from yet another electrifying performance from the golden pair as princess aurora and prince florimund: gojo and ieiri. 

as ieiri led the conductor on stage, he was the last to thank the audience, bringing the heart of the ballet to life with the score of tchaikovsky's sleeping beauty. 

with one last bow, the curtain closes, leaving you to let loose from the rigid position you were used to. 

"we're done!" you laugh, hugging megumi as nobara and itadori squeeze their way through the many dancers on stage. the two convey their compliments, prompting you to nudge the two on their puss-in-boots and white cat roles. the two then freeze up, staring at something that was approaching from behind.

"miss (y/n)-" gojo bows, interrupted by ieiri as she crashes into you with a hug.

"oh man, (y/n) you were great out there!" you grin, embracing her as tight as she did. 

"thank you, senpai," you were practically beaming, thankful she still remembered you after being promoted to principal years ago. it was hard to communicate and talk when she had so much going on, a natural dancer who rose up the ranks fast with her hard work. 

ieiri formed herself up into a refined dancer that you wouldn't think she was the young girl at your studio trying on pointe shoes for the first time years ago when you were a kid.

that was if you didn't know her personally, of course. 

"here, first position, just like that!" the curious girl interacted with the kids outside a smaller studio, teaching them the various positions that at least a grade two or three class would use.

she picked up pointe work fast, obviously guided by the mentors at the school with nights of rehearsal and decision making whether she wanted to pursue this professionally.

"oh shush, you, you don't have to call me senpai, see you tomorrow (y/n)!"

ieiri bids you goodbye, no doubt to talk to the choreographers and director. gojo follow suit shortly after your exchange, not before taking your hand to plant a kiss on it.

you retract almost immediately after his lips descend on your skin, the area hot from the lighting, your sweat and your feelings.

nobara tsked, "what's his deal?" you let out a shaky sigh and shrug, hooking an arm around megumi's as you went around to mingle with the dancers.

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

[nobara is typing...]

you're to shadow gojo-senpai and shoko-senpai?! no way???!?!1/!?!?

[itadori is typing...]

no way, that's so cool! 

what was he like? was he in the office that day?

[(y/n) is typing...]

yeah, he was. not gonna lie, a bit cocky... kinda overheard that partners throw themselves at him sometimes too, which makes it a bit troublesome, lol.

and yes, kugisaki i'll need to observe them starting tomorrow. i cant come for the company class :(

[megumi is typing...]

Then what about Shoko-senpai?

you shake your head even though no one could see you, the forgotten tv series playing in the background while you text your friends instead.

[(y/n) is typing...]

she's too good for him, i think. they're long time friends too, but i'm not sure if any feelings blossomed since then tho

[nobara is typing...]

you don't like him, do you? i know you dont like guys that are full of themselves, altho that man rlly is that attractive .......

[itadori is typing...]

LMAOO whos the smitten one now

nobara sends a vibe check sticker, the one with both hands outstretched with a threatening stare into the screen. 

[nobara is typing...]

i'll kill you tomorrow, yuji itadori.

[itadori is typing...]

you'd have to reach my height first, loser

[nobara is typing...]

you- UFGGHKHH

i'll kick your shins, thats what!!!!!! 

you roll your eyes as the two of them get into another friendly banter, leaving the group chat to blow up in messages as you switch off the neglected tv. 

there's a silence that feels almost too foreign, contrasting to the fact that you enjoyed silences daily. it felt criminal, almost, to be in such a quiet space with no one to fill in the gaps.

you look to your black and white poster for some clarity, the young boy standing at 16 with a softness in his eyes and a lengthened extension that conveyed his love of ballet to you.

you never knew who was the boy, getting a poster shoved into your hands in a hurry when you and your mom bought tickets to the local ballet competition. you never questioned the poster, nor had you caught the boy in the midst of his variation either, settling for a theory that his performance had already passed the day before.

"how do you think it's going to go down tomorrow?" you mumble to no one in particular, tossing and turning in your sheets that didn't quell your worries no matter how much you thrashed.

the dreamless slumber welcomes you into its arms almost immediately, although the morning after was the opposite.

"shit, shit, shit," was your mantra, jumping from place to place in your small apartment to get the things you needed for class. you manage to catch the bus in time, heading straight to the studio with no cup of tea in your hand as usual. 

"(y/n)!" nobara grins, seeing you stumble through the door just as everyone finishes their individual warmups. the instructor greets everyone, eager to get into the class as soon as possible.

the thought of the rehearsal shook you up more than you thought it would, leaving you to let out nervous breaths that got worse by the time that class ended. 

ieiri didn't miss the way you'd wipe your hands on your tights in worry, going over the steps more than you usually would. you had a killer memory, but it seemed that today that that ability had melted away at the sight of gojo.

"wish me luck, guys," you muttered, hurriedly packing up your things before heading off yourself. the trio only could give you a small smile, knowing you had wanted time to yourself to calm your nerves.

you had always done this for the many shows you starred in: the music and positions mimicking a recording. it was as clear as day when it replayed in your head, the different orchestral parts and the dynamic changes you apply to your steps to give the best performance, for performing your best was all that mattered. the trio understood instantly, always sending you off on your memory replay with an encouraging smile.

well, almost, for you didn't even know what the rehearsal entailed or what piece they would be dancing to.

"hi," your voice appeared meek in the big studio, the only three people there slowly getting warmed up to each other. your feet carried you into a curtsey.

"ah, mei mei-sensei! miss shoko and mr gojo," you acknowledged their presence, placing your things down right where you stood.

"let's begin then, shall we? for this is a gala event, the pas de deux couple will only be performing the entree and the adagio parts. there might be the possibility you two would have to rehearse your individual variations and the coda. still, the organisers haven't gotten back to us on the duration we'll be on stage for. with the switching in and out of the different repertoire, this year should align with don quixote. before we start, i wish that everyone is honest with each other; that way, we can learn from different views."

don quixote?! you hold in your excitement at the revelation, thinking back to the fiery portrayals of kitri and lively spanish music to pair with it. your excitement was on cloud nine while by fifteen minutes, your feet and body were seemingly screaming at you to take a break.

to say it was tiring was an understatement, at the very least. you were to only shadow ieiri's parts, and the absence of a male partner proved challenging when you were the first soloist mirroring a principal and her partner.

"(y/n) should try too, of course! come, come," mei mei beckons you over from where you went over the steps, fingers fidgeting with the waistband of the sheer skirt you'd just bought a few days ago.

"i trust that you are familiar with the wedding PDD, (y/n)?" mei mei asks.

you nod eagerly, not missing the way ieiri beams at your enthusiasm. 

"good. we'll just try this part on your own. remember to keep yourself lifted and trust your partner," mei mei eyes you while gojo was already getting comfortable with a hand on your back, "would you like to try it without the music first?"

you nod cautiously. you take note of the way it burns like fire, the contact of his skin on yours. oh god, you wished you had wiped the sweat from it, although the other didn't seem to mind it due to the many partners he's worked with before.

with a quick glance, you snuck a look at the tall dancer, never much prepared for the striking blue of his eyes. however, this time, the cheeky gojo appeared to be kept under wraps, bringing forth a more solemn and nervous exterior. he did seem different and quiet, even catching the attention of mei mei-sensei and ieiri herself. they opted not to say anything.

nevertheless, the two of you narrate the lifts and steps, mixing in the counts with the french vocabulary that stuck with you throughout the years. you were surprised at how much leeway gojo had provided you, allowing you to move freely while bringing you back effortlessly for the couple work.

a smile formed on your face at the flow of your steps as the music plays seamlessly in your mind with how much you've watched different renditions of the wedding pas de deux.

"with the music now, my dears."

ieiri shoots you a thumbs-up, noticeably more tired than you, as she massages the bottom of her feet with calculated force.

the piano starts as the pas de deux passes by smoothly with minimal mishaps, save for some off balances here and there. as always, your hand tingles when it comes in contact with the principal's, willing the quick heartbeats away by thinking of his cocky smirk the other day. with the easy beginning completed, the lifts were now appearing more often.

"hold your body up during the fish dive (y/n), hold your back and position!" gojo stumbles a bit at your mistake, but for the second time around, you manage to get it, coming up from the tricky step into a beautiful arabesque. 

a hasty nod, and you're off, pulling away from gojo a tad bit quicker than how you wanted to initiate it. he's taken by surprise at your change of personality, wondering where the flustered soloist had gone to previously. with the same corrections directed at you, mei mei gives you a "good job" before bringing ieiri back in.

"we'll cap you two's pas de deux at that point before the turns. ieiri, you ready to get back into it?" she hesitantly nods, albeit more relaxed than the earlier exchange.

the music starts again, and this time, you manage to gape at the couple's artistry, weaving over and under to fit the delicate notes of minkus' score. with the many turns and tour en l'airs, it now came to the difficult part of the pas de deux: where the woman will wind their hand around the man's single finger, engaging in two turns connected only by that single contact point.

they complete it easily, leaving ieiri to then balance en pointe with one leg suspended in the air. the two repeat it again with no problem, except for the fatigue seeping through their faces at a few moments in time.

as the music reaches its climax, so does the movements with increasing pirouettes and lifts. their chests heave with exhaustion, but their smiles showed that they were satisfied with the run.

it was hard to believe that gojo and ieiri only started to rehearsed this a few weeks ago, especially since these were leading roles with a reasonably complex pas de deux to pair with. nothing seemed to faze them as they received the feedback from mei mei, nor did they have trouble correcting the lift that had gone wrong earlier or the balance that ieiri fell out of.

so this was what it meant to be a principal.

"(y/n)! any feedback that you'd like to give to the two?"

"h..huh, me? i'm not sure if it'd be helpful to-"

"nonsense, hit us, (y/n). rehearsals are always a place for feedback," ieiri grins, taking your hand to bring you closer to the three of them.

"well, i think... i'll comment on the repeated melody where you'll go from the turns into the attitude balance is where it's a bit difficult. since gojo-senpai is tall, he might've put his hand a little too high. i mean, of course, lifting up is ideal, but ieiri-senpai might have some trouble balancing because of that."

they wordlessly try it out without the music, noting how gojo places his hand at a lower height for ieiri. it might've felt foreign, but it looked a tad bit better to you, with a better centre of gravity and stability. 

"yeah! like that!" a smile dons your face, "does it feel better, senpai?"

"tons," gojo simply states, almost too eagerly as blue eyes uncharacteristically boring into yours. opposed to the quick glances he always gave you along the corridor or within classes, this one was a strange, longing one. ieiri's voice snaps you out of the spell, almost not wanting to leave his stare.

"way better, thank you (y/n)," she pats your arm before turning to the sound of mei mei's voice.

"alright, beautiful legs and extensions, but we still have a lot to work on, as well as getting (y/n) accustomed to more pas de deux and principal work. would you like to stay on (y/n)?"

you admired your own determination, but sometimes it was better to take a break. having just attempted the coda, you could already feel blisters forming due to your prolonged use of pointe shoes. with a breath, you let gojo complete his pirouettes, restraining the sigh coming from your lips at the perfect revolutions and momentum he had going.

a little more, and you were close to catching a breath, finishing off a quadruple pirouette and tour en l'air with gojo's help. with a slight stumble, you let out a startled laugh before taking your last step with a knee to the floor. with palm outstretched, the piano does a trill before ending off on a chord.

out of the corner of your eye, you spot gojo smiling down at you, a beam that doesn't come often with how much confidence he carries around the company. 

ieiri applauds first, followed by mei mei's impressed smile.

"you execute your fouettes well, (y/n)," you bow your head in thanks, brought up unconsciously with gojo's hand as it stays linked in yours. 

"thank you, mei mei-sensei. i'm just glad to have tried it out; the don Q coda is one of my favourites," you gush, "the costumes, the music is just everything."

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

"to dance with your partner is one thing, but the connection is another. translate the story of the elation of kitri - her father finally gives his blessing for their wedding, and she's excited to the moon. basilio is marrying the girl of his dreams. know what and who you're dancing for." mei mei speaks over the music easily, giving pointers they go over the steps like always.

"i know it's just an empty stage. there's no set, no scene to show the joy all around the cast, but you still are dancing as kitri and basilio," mei mei says after, "let's try again with (y/n)."

rehearsals carried on like this, day after day. some days longer than the other, and on others, you were paired with another first soloist. however, he wasn't tasked with shadowing the couple every day, so the pas de deux was left to you to master. 

as you wipe your sweat, ieiri waves her towel in front of you, "wanna have lunch with us?"

"i don't want to intrude-" 

"it's gojo's treat," ieiri whispers, "plus he doesn't treat people often."

"is he okay with me coming alo-" she pulls on you, leaving you no choice but to pack your things hurriedly.

"(y/n)'s coming, yea?" ieiri mumbles quickly, hooking her arm around yours in a hassle as you try to keep your things from falling out of your bag.

"i'd like that." gojo says to no one, finally catching up to you two after switching off the studio lights.

"whaaaat, you're leaving so fast?" you pout, eyeing ieiri's neat tray of finished food as gojo lets her pass through in the booth.

"i'm sorry you have to stay here with this dumbass (y/n), but i have a date with the orthopaedic today," ieiri groans.

"like an actual date?" gojo jokes.

"no," she rolls her eyes, "my muscles are acting up a little lately. plus, my arch hurts more often than it usually does. it's best to just check it out, i guess. but yeah, an actual date would be nice, too."

you shrug, "eh, hard to come by when you're a busy ballet dancer in a company. bye, senpai!" you and gojo wave to her as she leaves the diner, now coming to terms with the fact that you were alone with the charming dancer, as much as you hated to admit it.

with his perfect hair and long eyelashes and the enchanting smirk he always seems to wear. not to mention the sheer strength in his leaps in contrast to the delicate grip on your waist-

"thinking about me, love? of course you are."

"what? no!" you stiffen, the blush on your cheeks immediately giving away your thoughts.

"for the record, i've thought of you, too," gojo drops a bomb, leaning over the table to plant a gentle kiss upon your cheek before leaving the booth in a hurry. 

you were thankful that he was gone, at least and thankful for the empty diner, leaving you to melt in a puddle of confusion and warmth. 

just like the first rehearsal, your cheeks feel hot, as does your body. the place where his lips touched seemed to burn a hole through, your gaping mouth failing to close even after a minute of staring into nothing.

fishing out your phone was the first thing your mind sought out from the endless thoughts in your head.

nobara, nobara, nobara... gotta find her contact..!

[nobara is typing...]

he WHAT???!??@

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

"ieiri-senpai, what's a pas de deux to you?" you mumble after rehearsals one day, picking at the tape stuck in between your toes.

"it would have to be what mei mei said, definitely. she still says the same exact thing till today: dance and connection are two different things. and it can't go to the point where two different stories are being told by the male and female dancer. you'll need to go into pas de deux work with a mindset that you come in a pair. every correction and every emotion needs to be felt by both parties for it to reach the audiences."  

"what about you?" the question catches you by surprise, resorting to humming as you think of the answer.

"it's something along the lines of your answer and mei mei-sensei's definition. you'd have to be on the same wavelength as your partner. every extension that appears or a gentle port de bras is meant to show the character's personality. you'd also have to think of the context of the ballet, i guess," you stop yourself, looking at gojo as he finishes a tour en l'air en passe. three revolutions and you realise that a. you're staring and b. you were talking way too much.

"sorry! i'm rambling again," you splutter, going back to your original task of taking out the tape from your toes.

ieiri giggles, "no, no! ramble all you want. i love listening to my juniors talk about how much they love ballet."

"sleeping beauty, just like the show a week ago, is set in the royal court, so it's hard to show aurora's personality. she's a little playful and young, although it's hard to slip that in when the wedding pas de deux for that is so grand. and then you'll compare it to the black swan in swan lake, where it's also in a royal court, but odile's the one deceiving siegfried, so there's an opportunity to include some side-eyeing in it. i personally love zenaida's version," you trailed off, "i mean, of course, there's also-"

"then what about odette?" gojo shouts across the studio, with his hands on his hips. the white of his hair matched the pureness of odette's tutu, something you always wished to wear and dance and master when you got accepted into six eyes theatre.

"don't mind him-"

your words take precedence without effort, "with the white swan, odette has to show the struggle of her spell with the frantic miming that she has to do. 'i'm the queen of the swans, rothbart the bastard turned me into a swan' and so on and so forth. because she's a swan, she has to imitate the gentle way that swans move, along with the technical challenges of the pas de deux. she's very soft and fragile, and the violin makes it all the better in showing the shyness and fear in odette."

two pairs of eyes stare at you curiously as the male's smirk leaves you to break into a nervous laugh as you fidget with your fingers. 

"sorry, i'm talking a lot. too much. do carry on with your jumps," a small apologetic smile appears on your face, failing to note gojo's hesitation to move from his spot and his interest in the way you can talk endlessly about the art.

gojo's smirk merges into a smile even when he accomplishes the many pirouettes demanded of him. he'd want to hear it from your lips next time when you're wrapped up in each other.

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

"don't you think he's a little bit too confident for his own good?" nobara whispers to you. with rehearsals off for a few days, you were able to see your best friends again, munching up the calories lost from the afternoon class. 

"yeah... for all we know, he might be stumbling around in rehearsals and picking up girls," megumi muttered.

you rolled your eyes, "he's... not like that, guys. he is confident in class and seems a bit cocky, but that's because he really does live up to his name."

"we might not know much, either. (y/n) has been in rehearsals with the guy. he's probably more focused when there are lesser people in the room," yuji chats through his food, gaining disgusted looks from the three of you when lettuce and chicken litter the table.

"well... don't go falling for the guy, yeah? i've beaten up too many exes in the past," megumi tsked, devouring the salad bowl in front of him.

"yeah, but i didn't ask you to, plus you'd do it anyway. didn't even have to ask," you grin, leaning back in your chair triumphantly.

"if i beat up gojo-senpai, i'll probably get jailed."

you and yuji stifle a laugh at his comment, but nobara doesn't seem impressed with the joke, instead focused more on you and your reactions. 

you weren't actually developing feelings... right?

the memory and kiss linger in your mind like a stubborn stain, not forgetting the intense stare nobara had given you before you said goodbye to the three. a vibration from your phone snaps you out of the daze, opening your chat group to answer your friends. 

[nobara is typing...]

how was rehearsal today?!???! we jsut finished class

also it's been so long since we saw u :(

[(y/n) is typing...]

so good as always is that even a question luv xx

theyre both so talented as individuals as they r in a pdd... it was rlly insightful too!

gojo-senpai kept staring at me today for some reason tho. he felt different today, a little more reserved and whatnot

[megumi is typing...]

Maybe he felt intimidated by your skill lol

"i'll take my leave first, (y/n)! i've got an errand to run. mei mei's accompanying me," ieiri grins, bringing you into a sweat-filled hug. she's used to soaked leotards, even if the grimace on your end doesn't go unnoticed by the principal.

she lets out a chuckle, "you'll get used to mixed sweat and whatnot, (y/n). see ya!"

curtseying comes easy, bidding goodbye to the principal and the ballet mistress.

you were ready to go back to the conversation on your phone, although a call of your name distracted you from the conversation.

"yes...? gojo?" you mumbled, the last name feeling foreign on your lips without the honorific at the back. you put your phone away as the studio immediately diminishes in size, seemingly putting the two of you in a tight space with nowhere to go. it certainly felt like it, with the wordless prompt of his hand.

"try the pas de deux with me," gojo proposes, pulling up a piano rendition of the score on spotify. it wasn't hard to spot the mischievous sparkle in his eye, along with the attractive grin plastered on his face.

the studio appeared calmer now that ieiri and mei mei had left, yet the conflict in your mind was loud and unwelcomed. it felt like a battle between the angel and the devil, and you were sure the devil was nobara herself, screeching at you to remind you of the shit-ton amount of conceitedness he had.

"are we allowed to? don't other people need to use the studio?" you mumble, standing up with the help of gojo nevertheless.

you're playing right into his hand, yet you took it anyway.

he waves a hand, "it's fine; you do know the pas de deux, don't you? we didn't go over it together much, but i'm sure the past rehearsals served you well."

the beginning was refined, having done it earlier with mei mei's help. it was mostly the only thing the two of you went over when mei mei was around, leaving the more complicated parts to ieiri. the fish dive comes naturally this time, imagining the glowing lights and the striking wedding tutu that kitri sports in the third act. 

there are howls of laughter at the many mishaps after that. knowing you hadn't rehearsed any of it with your partner, nor with the music before, it was only fair that accidents were to happen.

"no, no, if you let me go, i will kill you- ah! gojo!" you threaten, but it's lost in your mouth as he spins you way too many times, letting a loud shriek escape your mouth.

from a failed pirouette to a fish dive where he almost dropped you (he didn't), the laughter spilling from yours and his lips weren't common in a company class with everyone trying to dance their best.

"hey, hey, lay off the hair!" gojo quips, catching your off-balanced pirouette with a secure hand on the waist. you went along with the music, anyway, giving your exaggerated interpretation of kitri just as the music builds up. that earns a laugh from him, skillfully guiding you through even with the light banter in the room

"here it comes," he mutters to you, feeling the support of gojo's hands on yours as he pushes you off the complete the double attitude turn before hearing a loud ‘thwap!’.

"fuck, sorry! oh my god," you apologise, retracting your leg almost immediately after the collision.

"ah, shit," gojo exclaims, rubbing the side of his thigh as he brings you down gently. there's a frown on his face as you take a peek at the place you hit, the only thoughts running through your head being the articles or scandals you might be caught in.

(y/n) attempting to harm six eyes theatre's golden principal dancer? (y/n)'s downfall full of jealousy? (y/n) and the infamous gojo caught in a fight?

a giggle gets you out of the trenches, hands revealed like a finished magician's act. 

"i was kidding; that didn't hurt one bit," gojo jokes, hands naturally reaching forward to place them on your hips, "loosen up a bit, (y/n)."

"i am loose!" your mouth falls into a straight line, "shit that sounded bad, didn't it?" bursting into laughter, your head falls onto his shoulder as your hand reaches up to grasp at his forearm before recovering from the unexpected joke.

as the pas de deux fades off into nothing, only your breaths could be heard in the large studio, blending with the cold air of the air-conditioning and the hot breaths coming from your mouths. strings play softly from the phone, but all you can hear is the echo of the familiar melody as if it was being played in an auditorium. 

gojo gives you a gentle smile that you reciprocate, stuck in that annoying hypnotisation of his blue eyes and the same soft look he gives you whenever you aren't looking. 

you were looking now, though, and you'd like it even better if time stood still for you to savour this moment.

"would you like to go on a date with me (y/n)?"

there it was, the million-dollar question. it wasn't like you imagined this every night before you slept or whether he'd perform a flashy proposal to ask you out.

but even then, you thought back to the smirks he directed at every other dancer, you thought back to the conversation in masamichi's office, you thought back to nobara's advice.

"surely you're not thinking of getting wooed by gojo satoru, are you? it's dangerous, (y/n), i'm sure you know that."

"fuck, i know! but then he kisses my cheek that one time and everything feels right again. he jokes with me in rehearsals and nudges me when mei mei-sensei compliments me. he treats me to lunch and looks at me with so much passion i almost want to believe it. these past weeks of rehearsals have taught me well in dance, but i'm sure it's making my love life miserable with how much he looks at me and then goes back to flirting with the other dancers."

"i'm sorry, i can't, gojo."

you make haste with the way you're scurrying out of the studio, breaking into a jog to make sure he doesn't catch after you.

you should've said yes, right? with how much he's been building up the courage these past few weeks, careful not to let ieiri spot his sneaky glances. even the kiss on your cheek left his heart pumping long after he's left the diner. 

all that to leave him in the dust.

gojo lays in bed that day, eyes fully open as he struggles to get some rest, unaware of the similar turmoil you were going through. the dancer managed to sleep after innumerable amounts of overthinking, departing from consciousness with thoughts of you, just like he always has.

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

there weren't any tears involved on your end, save for some of the glossy looks you've given your black and white poster as you played with your pillowcase in anxiety. 

you dreaded the next rehearsal, knowing you had to face gojo sooner or later, especially with how you reacted to his question.

"mei mei-sensei, gojo," his name was muttered instead, embarrassed with the way you rushed out of the studio the previous day. mei mei looks between the two of you, clapping her hands together to get your attention.

"ieiri pulled a nerve around her arch, which was why we've been going to the orthopaedic more often. it's a minor injury, and she's resting right now, so we'll have to work with the two of you first. we'll stop at where we always do but feel free to continue if you feel comfortable."

great. it had to be on a day where i couldn't possibly face gojo.

he says nothing at that, both you and the pianist unsure of whether you were to continue.

gojo was still in his a game, hitting every leap and lifting you without much struggle. you, not so much, as the words you said to him replayed in your head like a broken record.

you fell off your balances, you couldn't portray kitri well, you felt the weight of your body get heavier with each repeated thought of the day before. hell, even your practice tutu felt heavy. 

he sighs again for the umpteenth time as the music stops, the two of you receiving the same criticism from the previous run. mei mei tries her best to be polite, although you can tell she's losing her patience as well.

"(y/n)? what's gotten into you? i understand every dancer has their bad days, but today appears terrible with the silent treatment you two are giving each other."

you swallow at the question, taking a shaky breath before opening your mouth. you look to gojo for help, but his eyes evade yours by looking at the floor with arms crossed. his head whips toward you with your following words.

"he asked me... on a date. i rejected him, rushed out the studio," you mutter, tracing the fabric of the tutu hanging on your hips.

"you asked her out on a date?" mei mei states in disbelief, looking at the ballerino with a face full of perplexity. 

"yeah, i did, and i would do it again," the last whisper is lost to you, unable to hear because of the distance between you and him.

"wh- why? what's wrong with that?" you ask mei mei-sensei, yet again being pulled in by the sky blue of his eyes before looking to the ballet mistress.

"mei mei-"

"gojo never asks anyone out. ever. i'm sure you're the first one."

you can see gojo deflate at that at the corner of your eye, shoulders sagging forward in defeat while mei mei takes the chance to leave for you to sort things out. 

"what...?" was the only thing you could muster, eyes following your instructor as she exits the space.

"you two are dismissed for now. talk to him about it and resolve your problem," she waves a hand at you, the tension growing by the second as she's entirely out of the studio.

"gojo?" you ask cautiously, stepping up to him to pull him from the position he was in.

"you believe the rumours, the articles, don't you?" he says, completely unrelated to the situation at hand. the look he gives you was something you couldn't figure out, snatching his arm out of your grip as he puts some distance between the two of you. 

"you think i'm some cocky bitch who's just strutting around the company, free to do my own thing?" the other says it in a quiet tone, but it didn't make it less menacing than if he were to shout it. 

"do you think i enjoy the way the female dancers throw themselves at me when i'm trying to focus on my mistakes and corrections? you think i enjoy the annoying ass articles written about me?"

with each question, gojo doesn't fail to intimidate you, taking a step each time until you're cornered against the barre. those questions are left unanswered as gojo's eyes bore into yours, losing its usual spark when he glances at you during the pas de deux or when he's laughing at a joke you made over lunch.

"do you think i enjoy being talked about every. single. time?! when i'm passing in the corridors, in masamichi's office, in the company classes, among the little trio you have going on. when i asked you out, it was because i genuinely felt that i could connect to you: with no wrong assumptions or bad impressions," gojo runs a hand through his sweaty hair, the frustrated emotions he felt seeping through into his speech.

"...everything felt so fake to me while getting to know you were the only real thing i could cherish when i get to hold you during the pas de deux, or when my lips landed on your cheek. it was the only real thing that brought on your blush that i imagine your lips on mine way too much."

you chose to ignore the way your heart flutters at the confession, staring up at him with apparent conflict on your face.

"then why can't you just ignore them? i'd expect someone like you to not give a shit about what people think," you whisper.

"you got to know the wrong gojo, then. just like right now, i can't face what others have to murmur around about me."

"right now...?" you caught onto his words fast, your eyes immediately spotting the curious faces of both your friends and a few other dancers fighting for a spot to watch you two through the studio door's glass.

"c'mon, pack up, let's not talk here," gojo states. within seconds, the two of you were out the door with your hand clasped in his. you were quick on your feet to leave the premises, naturally following gojo's lead to an unknown building. 

letting go of his hand, you explore the space, taking note of every tiny little thing that made the apartment his own.

"sorry for the mess. i live alone and hardly clean the apartment." the nervousness from the studio stayed, the other opting to remain at the doorway in worry. the silence in the apartment grows, your eyes now trained to the floor as gojo suddenly speaks up.

"i couldn't ignore them, (y/n). their expectations disguised as gossip and rumours allowed me to perform properly. i was afraid of disappointment, of getting ridiculed if i were to make mistakes on stage. any slip-up was seen by the company's sponsors, critics, everyone. their eyes were always on me, and i could never let myself get eaten up by the articles." 

"the industry is filled with competition and talent. anyone can replace anyone at any given time; you'd have to have a mind of steel to not get affected by every little thing!"

his eyes meet the back of your head, the fatigue leaking through the lines of his eyes and face. as you turn around, you meet his exhausted ones, and, step by step, you approach the man.

"i can't say i have that mind of steel that i mentioned. i hardly come close to it, (y/n). i'm happy with the company, i'm content with my place, and i'm terribly in love with ballet, but... i'm so tired, really."

your expression of unsaid pity was all you could offer, bringing gojo into a hug as he wrapped his arms around you. the way he relaxed told you of the safe space you provided, while his tight, squeezing arms showed he hasn't embraced in a long time.

a minute or two passes, relishing in the now comfortable silence as the other collects himself. 

"i'm laying everything on you, fuck, i'm sorry."

you shake your head into his chest, "don't apologise, you idiot. i should be the one saying sorry for rushing off like that," pulling away, you were heartbroken to see the shine of his tears waiting to cascade down his cheeks.

"i'm sorry i ran off. i was afraid, for a different reason. my rational side always protects my heart, knowing i've had bad experiences with friends and connections. if i couldn't sustain a friendship, who was i to jump into a relationship?" you hand trails to his nape to mindlessly play with the hair there as a form of habit with your own hair.

"it was brave of you, putting yourself out so vulnerably when i only looked at the surface of what you were. i'm sure it felt like those weeks of getting to know each other meant something to you, and i threw it away in fear that you'd leave me after a few months."

"so please don't apologise, i'm sorry i ever made you feel like shit because i didn't know about the weight on your shoulders."

a smile graces your face, the hand on his nape going back to his cheek.

"and stop crying; it doesn't make your eyes look good," you whisper, wiping the tears before they fall as gojo lets out a chuckle.

"you think my eyes look good?" 

you roll your eyes, "god, who wouldn't? it's like looking at the sky and the ocean all at the same time. and when you stare at me? i always have trouble looking away from you because of how striking they are."

"are they now?" distracted from the emotional vomit earlier, he grins at your description of him. you're lucky to have your hands on his cheeks just so you can feel the effect you have on him every time you offer a compliment.

"are you done complimenting me?"

"i've only commented on your eyes, though. would you like me to continue?"

"i think you should kiss me first."

you're taken aback by gojo's boldness, a surprised expression appearing at the question. the way he looks at you beats the gazes through the mirror as he warms up and the look of interest over his bowl of miso soup. it beats the glances at you during the company classes and the short, fleeting glimpses as you move together during the pas de deux. it beats every single one that your head descends back into his chest, shy at the look of adoration he was giving you.

"can i really?" you whisper in his shirt, refusing to look up even when he pulls away from your embarrassment.

as his arms unwind themselves from your middle, he crouches down to reach your eye and bring you back from a world of uneasy firsts.

"is it your first?"

this was when gojo satoru was at his rawest, with his hands cupped around your cheeks in the slowly darkening apartment as he prepares himself to kiss you.

"it is."

gojo says nothing after that, the moment of silence feeling like forever before his lips meet yours. the sunset coming in from his windows hits at the right time, because then you'd be able to point at it and describe the colours you feel when his mouth moves against yours. you'd be able to sense your heart pumping and blood flowing more clearly than when you've just finished a demanding combination of steps when he encircles his arms around you to bring you closer.

without choreographed steps, nothing feels more fitting than a kiss full of passion that isn't in a pas de deux. ironically, it was the ones you enjoyed more, more than the kisses in romeo & juliet or in manon.

oxygen becomes scarce, then, prompting you to break away from gojo just as your heart fills up with joy, way more than you can fathom.

you crash your lips into his again, now catching him off-guard. he melts into it with no problem, a laugh spilling from his lips at your eagerness.

"i like you a lot, tons, (y/n). i don't say this often, but i like you."

"it's too early to say it's love, right? because i think i like you too, a lot, tons."

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

you agreed to keep it under wraps for now, with you planning to leave half n' hour later to avoid suspicion. the dancer sacrificed his Z's so you could catch them instead, although you continued to lay awake in his bed watching the white-haired man get ready. 

"are you sure the floor wasn't uncomfortable? you could've just used your own bed, y'know."

he only shakes his head, "'s okay. my back was acting up, anyway. it was basically free therapy."

you laugh at that, now sitting up fully to admire gojo's physique. with how affectionate and sweet he is behind closed doors, you swore that he was a different man. he shoots you a finger gun and a wink, knowing the way he's got you wrapped around his finger.

"see you later," gojo whispers, landing a peck on you before taking off on his own. it wasn't long before you had to get up, taking in the room and its decorative spaces. he has ballet posters and photos of his friends; he even had a diffuser.

a yawn takes over you as your hands land on the shirt on you.

fuck, you didn't have anything clean to wear. gojo had provided you with a shirt and pants from his wardrobe yesterday, rejecting his briefs with a laugh. with no bra, you decided to just use a spare leotard you keep in your bag, settling for the clothes gojo had lent you the day before.

the theatre felt different when you entered, heading straight for the studio to avoid any more prying eyes from the younger dancers. 

"hey," you say, rubbing at your eyes to the trio warming up their feet.

nobara gasps, grasping at your hand immediately to pull you down onto the floor.

"are you good?" she mumbles, staring at your face for any signs of hurt or crying.

"do i need to beat him up?" megumi challenges, flexing his bicep as a joke, "i've been working out more."

"i'll go tell him off for you, (y/n)!" yuji grins, preparing to quite literally stand up to head over to the other corner of the room.

"no! i mean, yes, i'm good. please don't beat him up, and... sit down, yuji." you sigh. 

"nothing... happened, guys. i know what it looked like in the studio yesterday but there wasn't any catfights or physical fights," you pause, looking at megumi, your hands instinctively going to the pouch where you kept your shoes, "we figured out our problem and solved it, that's all."

"so why are you wearing his shirt, then?" nobara shoots without hesitation, causing you to halt your movements for a bit. beside you, you can hear yuji choking on his water. 

"i... we.. uhm," you trail off, trying to find the right words to fill in the gaps of your explanation. your eyes flit around the room before landing on gojo's, finding that his were already fixed on you.

"uh... yeah... we cleared up our differences and talked a bit," you mutter, lips breaking into a smile before you break eye contact with him. the trio stay dumbfounded at your word vomit, witnessing the exchange with the principal dancer with puzzlement. 

"oh my god, did you guys fuck?" nobara whispers.

"what? no!" you laugh, whacking her shoulder as you stood up to loosen up your feet, preparing for the class conducted by masamichi himself today.

"i'll explain everything when i get back home, okay?" you say to the three of them, stuck in a side hug with nobara as her arm stay loosely wrapped around your waist.

they can only offer you their  nods, bidding you goodbye with a slight wave.

as you enter the same rehearsal studio, there's only a single lone dancer in it, stretching over in a middle split as he scrolls on his phone mindlessly.

"hey," you call out to gojo, setting your bag of things down while you run up to him. he stands up instantly, pulling you into an embrace that shocks you with the sheer force of it.

"did you already miss me? that's fast."

he mumbles into your hair, "mhmm... shut up, please."

you laugh at that, recovering from the hug despite the other's protests.

"c'mon, i need to warm up, plus we're supposed to keep this a secret, right?"

gojo whines but lets you go anyway, but not before he plants a kiss on your hand as he lets you do your own thing. the next set of footsteps catch you in surprise, eyes widening at her presence when you run up to her in excitement.

"ieiri-senpai! are you feeling better?" you ask, peeking around at her feet, where she limped on earlier.

"yes, i am, (y/n)," she pats your head and realises your choice of clothing. you noticed her smirk, but before you could counter her question, she beats you to it, "and... i've seen that the dumbass finally made a move."

there's no denying the blush that makes its way onto your cheeks, seemingly oblivious to the stares from everyone when in reality, they were curious to know of what happened the day before.

"yeah, i guess he did," you sigh dreamily, giving off your feelings as ieiri could only smile at your situation.

mei mei enters the room with authority, making you perk up at her words as she walks to the centre of the barre with purpose.

"i trust that you've solved everything, yes? because you two have been quite the talk around the studio," mei mei states, braiding her hair into a side braid as ieiri takes a seat.

"i took her hand to get away from the crowd, sensei. if anything, i should be blamed for engaging in contact that might've given off the assumption that we were dating," gojo steps up.

"but you are dating, aren't you?" mei mei grins, putting on her shoes.

"i..." you tried to speak, but gojo interrupts you before then.

"only if she'll have me, then yes, we are."

you fight back a smile, stepping forward to catch his hand in yours. he's shaking, not at all the confident gojo satoru that you've become so accustomed to.

"yes," your single affirmation holds so much weight, looking up at him with as much joy as he did with you in the morning.

"okay, good! i've gone through enough of gojo staring at you from across the room. let's continue," mei mei casually says, "i'm sure (y/n) has heard the news, yes?"

she's quick to pull you out of your thoughts of gojo looking at you during rehearsals with the question of the news that left you texting the trio at 1am.

[nitta-sensei is typing...]

(y/n)? do you have a minute to spare?

[(y/n) is typing...]

yes sensei?

what seems to be the...

you're cut off by the abrupt phone call as gojo brushes his teeth, speaking to you, though incoherently, through the foam and lather in his mouth.

"yes, nitta-sensei? what is it?"

"i'm sorry for conveying this news over the phone, and i was too excited to wait until the next day. you might or might not like it, but... you're to replace ieiri in the gala event for now." by now, gojo had stopped brushing due to your lack in reply.

he peeks his head out of the bathroom as nitta continues, "she has to heed her orthopaedic's advice and take a break for now, but since you've been shadowing the two for a good amount of time, masamichi thinks its best you take up the role of the female part."

your jaw stays dropped even after nitta says her goodbyes, the phone lit up due to your shock. 

"(y/n)? what happened?"

"i'm going to be dancing with you, gojo," you say quietly, "i'm dancing the pas de deux with you!" 

you bow your head in acknowledgement, "yes, i have." 

ieiri sees the hesitation since now the original dancer was seated in front of you. she shoots you a double thumbs-up as motivation while mei mei briefs you on the gala like she did with the couple at the start.

it's short, and within the next moment, you're already flying through the sky with gojo's help. the steps start to become more apparent and distinct to you, letting the pianist lead the way as the lifts and pair work merge together like a seamless thread.

mei mei is firm in her teaching, knowing your weaknesses and strengths by heart with the past rehearsals that she's done. stopping the two of you before letting ieiri take over was routine, but for now, ieiri contributes with her wisdom from the chair instead. 

the rehearsal progresses slowly, opting instead to complete it bit by bit as the weeks turn into days and the days turn into hours. you had to take extra care of your feet, icing them and making sure your blisters don't distract you as rehearsals extend longer to ensure your best performance.

when you had your own commitments, your best friends had theirs, fulfilling principal or first soloist roles just for the gala. there was hardly any time for you to see the trio, but you made up with late facetime calls and online dinners with them.

even with the distance in the company class, gojo never fails to make it up to you with kisses under the moonlight as you watch video after video on don quixote, although taking a specific liking to the pairing of nuñez and muntagirov. 

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

"you ready?" gojo lets out a nervous breath, already hearing the chatter of the gala attendees behind the curtains. beside you, other dancers are warming up for their own parts. some were doing a solo while others were doing a pas de deux like you were, but nonetheless, everyone gathered here was to share the love for ballet.

"hell no, i'm shaking," you laugh, playing with the elastic that was to go over your middle finger. a beautiful, white tutu was tailored just for you with minor tweaks from ieiri's tutu while they were in the midst of completing it. to honour and perform the role of kitri gave you immense joy and excitement, even though you were jittery at the responsibility passed on to you.

"how are you doing?" nobara asks, making you jump at the sudden voice. she lets out a giggle, "sorry."

 "i'm... very nervous. is that even a question?" you ask her, holding onto her exposed shoulder a little too tightly. she dons a breathtaking, flowy costume with puffy sleeves and intricate detail. at the same time, yuji was suited up as nobara's partner in a pair of yellow tights, completing the couple look in the comedy-filled la fille mal gardée.

"oi, hot pants, come here! my partner's here finally after taming his hair," nobara jokes, pulling yuji over. they lean into each other's sides naturally, posing with peace signs and big smiles that they were asked to convey to the audience.

"good luck out there," megumi catches your attention, awkward as can be, as he pulls you in for a hug. his pas de deux partner is smiling at you beside him, taking your hand in hers.

"your rehearsals with gojo-senpai are incredible, (y/n)-senpai! all the best for your performance later," she bows, clearly relieved at saying the things she wanted to say.

"all the best for your le corsaire, too," you grin, waving them off excitedly before joining your basilio at the hip.

"you'll do great out there, trust me," gojo places a peck on your temple, holding you close by the waist as you warm up together. there's shared laughter between the two of you, exchanging jokes to calm your nerves and keep your mind moving. with the rush hour backstage, it was imminent that the show was starting soon, the many dancers continuing their warmup without trouble.

only you seemed to be on edge, performing as the first couple of the night for a role you've always loved and adored while watching from the balcony of auditoriums.

"i will. we will." you nod, hands twined with the other's as the curtains make their way up.

"breathe. we'll nail this like we always do," gojo kisses your linked hands, staring down at you with those same eyes you fell in love with. a smile replaced what you couldn't say out loud, bumping your head into his chest as an affectionate gesture, "let's go."

among the cheers and blinding lights, you could only focus on gojo's hand on the small of your back as he led you out. with practised steps, nothing could faze you except, maybe, his dazzling smile and the gentle eyes he has on you for the whole pas de deux.

living the life of an innkeeper's daughter was what you had to portray. while your 'father' was hesitant at first, he's finally given you the blessing to marry your lover, basilio. the glimmering tutu and effortless partnership was only half the job done, and for the radiant smile you had on at the moment, you hoped at least ieiri and mei mei would be proud of the story you were telling together with gojo.

the feeling from rehearsals is amplified on stage, with the orchestra's power and the costumes, providing you with a feeling like no other. and as gojo approaches with a flawless tour en l'air, you realise that with how much work you put in behind the scenes, the result always pays off. 

as gojo has his hands on your waist, twirling you around like nothing in a quadruple pirouette, you realise that every step was made possible with the help of ieiri and mei mei and your best friends and lastly, gojo satoru.

the golden, treasured prodigy which you somehow managed to develop feelings for. the talented principal who whines when you won't refuse to give him affection and the once-cocky individual who softens just at the sight of you.

and as the music reaches the end, you want nothing more than to stay in this pas de deux with gojo satoru, in a dance of two.

you end off on an incredible note, chest heaving from the demanding technicalities of the pas de deux. nevertheless, your brain shuts out the thunderous applause, with some imparting you with their standing ovations and others who decided to scream 'bravo!' at the stage.

gojo offers a grin, bringing you close with a hand as you thank the audience with endless curtseys. bowing to your partner was next, thanking him for the interminable rehearsals and that hectic day of emotion from the studio right up to his home.

you almost practically run backstage with the adrenaline flowing through your body, the next act already on stage for the gala. 

"oh my god, oh my god!" you whisper-shout in pure glee, hugging gojo close the moment you were out of view of the audience.

"you did it."

"we did it," you reassure, pulling from the embrace to smile up at him. you could feel the dancers' eyes around you, not knowing whether they should look to you or to look away.

his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, "'s okay, let them look. i don't mind it when i'm with you."

"just to confirm, we... shouldn't kiss, right?" you mumble, but you inch closer to his lips anyway.

"no... i don't think we should," gojo grins, indulging you in the very kiss you've waited for, knowing that right now, it wasn't the stage lights, nor was it the general heat after completing a difficult pas de deux.

it's as if the world gave you rose-tinted glasses, because that was all you could recognise now as gojo pulls you from backstage with your hand tightly locked onto his. he wasn't the six eyes theatre's prized principal, he was just gojo as you run past the many costumes being hung with the click-clacking of your pointe shoes.

you could compare it, almost, to running across a field with a billowing dress behind you, but alas, you were satisfied with being his kitri. for when she and basilio have a life of marriage ahead of them, you and gojo satoru have nothing but longing glances and shared laughter over your stumbling slip-ups in the studio as you tackle one act after the next.

the pas de deux was a connection and a story, and the both of you were just starting out yours. 

[ickymichi]

𝐨𝐡 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫!

𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

<3 summary: you didn’t know you were failing that badly for him to make you stay back. but you weren’t complaining when he brought you to his office and locked the door.

<3 word count: 3.5k

<3 warnings: nsfw, swearing, soft levi and fluff at then end cause we love soft levi in this house.

<3 nsfw warnings: age gap(reader is of age), degradation, spanking, hair pulling, male oral reciving.

<3 note: this was requested by @jahanaraaaa and i just had to write it straight away cause it sent me into my monthly levi brianrot. tysm for the request & wait my dear i loved it so so much.<//3 but if you enjoyed please like n’ reblog, it’s greatly appreciated!

all contents belongs to fckyaeger 2021. please do not repost/modify on this or any other platform.

The noise of his expensive dress shoes clicking as he moved across and black the laminate floor and his deep monotone voice was slowly putting you and others to sleep. But you had to fight it because you didn’t fancy getting an earful from your professor Mr. Ackerman. Well maybe you would, it’s no lie he’s extremely attractive and you’ve always had an attraction to men older than you. His bare ring finger gave you evidence that he probably wasn’t seeing anyone so it didn’t make you feel guilty about your not so little crush on the man.

“that’s it for today then, and don’t forget the assignment this time. Looking at you yeager.” His deep voice shook you from your daydream and the class was already over. ‘perfect this was the last one! Get me to be-’ “(y/n) stay back, I need a word”. Huh? Did he notice you falling in and out of sleep? we’re you failing his class? Well probably he always gave such difficult class test every week. But was it bad enough for him to make you stay behind?

Packing up your things you made your way down the small steps to where he leant against his wood desk. “you wanted to talk to me sir?”. You spoke with you arms folded, quite frankly annoyed he ruined your plans to sleep for the rest of the day- but also intrigued in what he wanted. you lifted your gaze from checking the time on your phone to his face when you didn’t get an answer. The action was a mistake because you were met with his steel silver eyes looking back at you and the sleeves of his dress shirt straining against his biceps and across his chest made him look irresistible. Shit he definitely saw you staring earlier, shit shit sh- “come with me.” He suddenly spoke up and pushed himself off his desk to walk in-front of you and towards the door at the side of the room. Quickly you followed his long strides, Not knowing where you were going but in the moment you didn’t really care.

Finally he stopped in-front of a door and unlocked it before stepping aside to let you in. walking to one of the two seats sitting before the large wooden desk you sat one one of them and waiting for him to take his place behind the desk. Hearing the click of the lock made you jump slightly and turn around to see him making his way to you with one hand in his pocket. “don’t look so excited, just having a little chat is all.” Fuck is it that noticeable? Well with the way you’re rubbing your thighs together, how your skirt riding up slightly and you don’t move to fix it, it definitely is. “so then, any idea why I went to the trouble of taking my free time to bring you here?”. Why is he acting like you asked for this? “I dunno Mr. Ackerman, maybe is it that you just love chatting to me?.” You could physically see his eyebrow twitch, moving to place his elbow on the arm of the chair and rest his face against his palm he sighed quiet loudly. “maybe I should’ve payed more attention to that attitude of yours”. You bring a hand to your chest and put on your best fake ‘what? Me?’ face. “me? Have an attitude? you’ve got the wrong student i’m afraid, i’ve always been the teachers pet i’ll have you know”.

You swore he was trying to stare right through you with how intense his gaze was. Sighing again he used his foot to slightly sway is leather chair. “listen (y/n) only reason i’m on your ass with the grades is cause Principal Smith is one mine about them.” Scoffing slightly you look off to the side for a moment before looking back at him. “why does he of all people care about my grades out of everyone in this place.” Not wating a second after you finished your sentence he butted in: “cause you used to be a top student only a month ago, now all of a sudden they’re coming out your ass. Care to let me know why?” “Dunno, a girl has priorities and frankly my grades aren’t one of them.” You huffed and crossed your arms back over your chest and pushing up your tits slightly. It was quick, but you seen his eyes flick down to your chest and back up.

“listen (y/n) i wanna go home just as much as you do and i’m not in the mood, so how ‘bout you just try harder when the next test comes around and i’ll try my best to give you the highest I can ‘kay?”. He truly did all seem concerned and all the times you’d fall asleep in his class, cheat on his tests or just not turn in assignments started coming to you along with the guilt of it all. But that doesn’t mean you’re gonna stop your little cat and mouse game. “i’m gonna need a bit more convincing than that sir, it’s easier said than done y’know.” Raising an eyebrow at your comment his adam’s apple bobs in his throat and he fixes his suddenly tight collar. “what do you mean convincing?, what do you have in mind?.” He questions, moving the chair to face it in your direction. Spreading his legs, leaning back and bringing one hand to run it through his black hair.

“oh professor! That sounds so, so scandalous! Didn’t think you were the type.” You seen slight snarl on his face before he turned to look at the bookshelf to his left. “tch, shut it brat, you hinted at it. And don’t think i don’t see the way you stare all class long.” He smirks at the end of his sentence, watching your eyes widened before you send him back your own quirk up of your lips. “oooh? You finally noticed huh? Gahhh it took you long enough.” Waving a hand around and turning your face to the side. “Get over here now.” “Hmm? What was tha-” “I said, get the fuck over now.”

The way his voice went down on octave and his stern gaze had you getting up and walking over to him like an obedient dog to its owner. Now standing between his spread legs your hands went to run across his shoulders and chest without you even thinking. They got lower and lower until they tugged at his belt. He took your two wrists into one and pulled you into his frame. “get down.” The short, but demanding command brought a quiet whimper from your mouth and had him chuckling in your face. Lowering down to sit on your knees , resting your hands on his strong thighs. You looked up to see him looking straight back, he always looked intimidating-but from this angle, it felt like he was burning holes through you. “hurry it up ‘teacher’s pet’” his deep voice, with a mocking sultry tone at the end, went straight to in between your legs, making you turn to hide your face. He bucked his knee up slightly to get your attention and silently tell you to actually hurry.

Rubbing up and down his thighs a few times, feeling the muscles twitch under your touch. The sight of his strained bulge in his slacks had you reaching for his belt, pulling it out through the loops and down onto the ground by your sore knees. His zipper and button came undone with ease along with you pulling down his trousers to his mid thigh, just enough to pull his cock from its tight confinement. He hissed slightly at the brisk air and your soft hand wrapped around him so suddenly. Humming at his reaction you didn’t waste another second and let a drop of spit fall onto the tip, waiting for it to meet your fist before setting his cock with the salvia. You saw his grip on the arm of the chair get tighter, so putting him out of his misery, you took him into your mouth and pushed your head down as far as you could before your gag reflex stopped you. “jesus (y/n), fuck do it again.” His scary n’ intimidating resolve crumbling right in front of you just made you want to see the other side of your professor even more. doing as he told you, you pulled back for a short second before bringing his cock back in and down your throat, holding it for as long as you could. The groan he let out sounded like an angel was above you, making your eyes roll back, throat tightening around him. Anyone would notice how hard he’s holding back from nestling his hands in your hair and fucking up into your mouth, and you did.Wanting to feel him grip your hair, you took his hands from the arms of the chair and placed them on the back of your head. He didn’t wait for you to get used to the feeling of them in your hair before he planted his feet down and used your throat as his own personal fleshlight. “that’s it bitch, suck my fucking cock, choke on it, there you go.” he took one hand from the back of your head and pinched your nose, cutting of your breathing and stilling his cock in the back of your throat, not listening to the hits you were giving his thighs.

All that could be heard in the spacious room was the wet gagging of your throat and his strangled grunts. Waiting and waiting for him to warn you he was about to cum- but it never came, all that did was your head roughly getting ripped from his cock. Once you could breathe probably you started coughing from the lack of air going into your lungs. “a-are you. You okay?” he asked with a bit of concern in his voice that made your chest swell. Giving him a small nod he hummed and lifted you to straddle him. “go ahead and strip for me” growing more impatient for the need for him inside you, you got straight to ridding your body of it’s clothes. Just being left in your panties, Levi looked down to see the soft pink lace with a small bow on the front grinding over his aching hard on. “please sir, can you fuck me now.” That name, that name is what did it for him. He brought his larger hands to the flesh of your ass and ripped the panties from the back and threw them to the floor.

The man didn’t even give you time to react before he lifted you slightly and pushed himself inside your tight heat. You weren’t going to lie- he was definitely bigger than you thought, especially for a man of his height. His bruising grip on your waist and the feel of sinking down on his cock had you whimpering and reaching for his broad shoulders. “s-sir more need more.” His strong chest shook with the deep chuckle he responded with. “a bit greedy don’t we think?” “don’t care, want you sir plea-ah!” he cut off your begging with a harsh slap to your ass and thrusted his hips up to meet yours. It all came at once and you feel into his chest panting. “c’mon brat, do the rest yourself since you want it so badly.” His demanding and teasing tone returned as he leaned back to watch you.

Lifting your knees up as much as you could till just the tip remained in you, and then you slammed back down onto his thighs. The action ripped moans from both of you in sync and had you repeating the cycle for another while. Levi thinks to himself for a short second, ‘what is he doing, why is he doing this?’ but you loud moan shook him from the thoughts and threw them out the window. The mix of the leather rubbing against your knees and the sweat on your skin started to make it harder for you to bounce desperately on his cock.

As if he could sense what your thinking, he reached around and under to rest his hands on the underside of your ass and stood up, holding you in his strong arms. He made it look effortless, how he could hold you up and walk to the wall behind his desk. “S-sir fuck wait”. He didn’t want to wait, he wanted to feel more of you, feel you cum around him and feel you squirm when he fills you up. “you didn’t wanna wait earlier did you? Didn’t wait a second when you had the- fuuck- chance did you? Just a fucking whore for me that’s all you are. A hole for me to use” His words were laced with venom, spat right into your ear by his mouth along with the stinging slap to your ass. Desperate to feel more of him, you dig your fingers into his shoulders, the skin hidden my his baby blue dress shirt as he lifted you up and back down with the brute strength of his arms.

Levi couldn’t hold it back much longer he needed to see you a shaking dumb little mess for him. He hoisted you so he could turn around and place you on the edge of the desk. You wanted to finally get a good look at the man that was giving you the pleasure you waited so long for, leant back on your forearms you could finally see Levi Ackerman in all his glory. The light from the two windows behind him shone in rays through the blinds and bouched off the exposed skin of his chest where he unbuttoned his shirt, the light flush to his cheeks and the jet black hair sticking to his forehead. It all made him look angelic before you, and you just couldn’t peel your eyes off him. He noticed the slight trance you were in and gave a particularly hard thrust that kissed at your cervix. It straight away snapped you out of the gaze and threw your head back with a loud moan. “fuck sir please don’t sto- hah! Wanna cum on y’ cock please please” moans spilled from you in tangent with his hips meeting your own. “such dirty fuckin’ words for a teachers pet hm? Should teach you some manners next time. But go ahead you wanna, hnngh, cum that badly do it for me darlin’”. There was too much for your fucked out brain to dissolve in the one sentence. Next time? Did he want to do this again? Did he mean to call you that name?. you didn’t care- you didn’t in the moment, all that matters was making him get you to the edge then watch him crumble himself. “yes sir m’gonna cum for you h-hard fuck fuck ahh m’ cummin oh my go- Levi!”

You didn’t mean to call him that, you really didn’t, it just slipped out in the midst of your orgasm ripping through you in waves. But he definitely didn’t miss it, his rhythm faltered for a short second but he seen you were still riding your high so he brushed it aside to keep you seeing stars, and trying to get there himself. “shit (y/n) that’s it, fuck you look- feel so good think i’m close” he grunted, watching you fall apart under him. He needed to feel deeper inside you. Grabbing your ankles from his waist, he brought them to his shoulders and kept up his erratic pace.

You had only come down and he still hadn’t let up. It was starting to tether on the edge of pain and pleasure and you didn’t know how long you could keep going. “No, no Le-sir please I cant can’t anymore fuck!” the moan he let slip out had him turning to hide his face in your calf. “shhh just- jesus christ, a bit longer ‘kay m’ nearly there baby you gonna take it all when I fill you up like the cumdump you are.” He struggled to get the sentence out, biting back more moans. You whimpered at the way the pet name fell from his lips like velvet.

“Sir I think i’m go-”, “‘s not my name princess” you peeked your head from his previous place behind your arm to see his stern stare had returned. “L-Levi..” you said quietly in case you were wrong. “fuck, there we go, now say it again”. His voice had gone deeper and the crease of his eyebrow told you that he was about to follow in your footsteps and reach his high. “Levi I think im, think i’m gonna cum again, please don’t stop it’s so good!” he hoped you were right there behind him cause he was himself. “fuck fuck (y/n) cum with me now, fucking cum you greedy little slut.” Flipping you over, he brought a hand to your hair and pulled you up to level with his face, making your back arch in a painful way. “I mean it bitch, be a good girl n’ cum nice n’ hard for your professor while he fills you with his cum.” He pushed your head back down onto the desk with force and brought his free hand to clap on your ass one, two and three times before gripping the tender flesh in his hand, using it as leverage to pound into your clenching cunt. Too much, it was all too much and for the second time you came, gushing around his cock. But this time it came gushing out of you and splashed onto his exposed stomach.”holy shit that’s it you fuckin slut!”. He brought three of his fingers down to dance across your clit and help you ride it out as his hips jerked against yours, his balls tightening and emptying the white spurts to paint your walls.

When you both were well spent he slowly pulled out of you, watching as his cum dripped out of your twitching pussy. He softly laughed when he used two fingers to push it back in you, seeing you wince as he did. Your whole body was sore and, frankly you don’t think you could move any part of it. Voicing your distress to him, it was like he snapped out of the mean, demanding character and flipped a switch to a caring side you’ve never seen. “here ill help” he brought his arm to under your knees and behind your back to lift and sit you on his chair behind him. “I have some tissue and wipes here for you if you need them, do you.. do you want me to help you get cleaned up?” not having the energy to answer him, you just nodded your head and let him crouch down and wipe away the mixed fluids from your body as gently as he could.

“listen (y/n), do-” “i’m not gonna tell anyone don’t worry, besides why would i? wouldn’t benefit me if did anyway.why? you ashamed we did this?” he looked up at you with wide eyes and took your hand in his. “no, no of course not. I just, just don’t want it getting around. could lose my job y’ know.” He whispered the last part quietly. “yeah I know, but i’m not ashamed or anything either, just so you know.” For the first time, in what you think is probably forever, he smiles softly and looks down at you playing with his fingers. “that’s good to know, and when i said next time, it wasn’t just in the moment, just so you know.” You both laughed at him mocking your words. “your not as scary as you seem Mr. Ackerman” looking and laughing up once again he hid his wide smile behind his hand. “is that so? Well thank you Ms. (L/n).”

you were going to laugh back a retort but just watching his soft, plump lips dance as he spoke and still in a smirk had you moving before you could think and slotted your lips onto his. Shocked, he didn’t react at you falling onto the floor beside him, but after a second he registered what was going on and moved one hand to the back of your head, the other to your bare waist and moved his lips against yours. Pulling away for a breath of air, he looked into the irises of your eyes and spoke up: “you don’t have to say yes of course, but if you’d like, i’d love to bring you to dinner sometime. not just as a professor and student shit, just as two people wanting to get to know each other”. Now it was your turn to freeze up and not know how to react. Going through the current scenario in your head, weighing between the options, you wondered what to say to the awaiting man before you. ���I u-um.. i’d love to si- Levi” the way his name slipped from your tongue like honey made him flush and sheepishly look away for a short while. “well then I guess I could find some free time for you.” “yes, i’ll have to find time in my oh so busy schedule aswell Sir”. Both of you fell into a comfortable fit of laughter again in each other’s embrace.

The scene looked rather comical really. You-bare naked- and your-half bare- college professor laughing on the floor of his office, while talking about planning dates. Who would’ve thought failing grades would get you here?.

-End <3 part two? 😳

[atlafan]

Burning Love - Part Three

a/n: the third and final part of this little series is here! I hope you enjoy! Feedback and reblogs are helpful! Support me here if you’re able! (not proofread)

Warnings: cocky!Harry flirting, a tiny bit of angst, fluff, and smut!

Words: 8K

Pairing: Harry x OC (kindergarten teacher Danielle Robinson)

Masterpost

Having a firefighter as a boyfriend was anything but boring. Sometimes Harry was called away in the middle of the night for backup, sometimes he had to straight up sleep at the fire house if someone was on vacation, and sometimes he was cooking up a storm so the guys coming back from a fire had plenty to eat. Danielle would sometimes help cook as well. The guys really liked her turkey chili.

Danielle’s classroom knew who her boyfriend was too, and they loved it when Harry would come by for a visit. He’d bring them little coloring books, or sometimes he’d get Doodle to come for an even better surprise visit.

When they were together three months, Harry made sure no one was in the fire house so she could come to his office, and he gave her a little strip tease. She had practically been begging him to play the part of the sexy fire fighter and he was finally doing it for her. The only condition was that he got to bend her over his desk and fuck her. She even let him hit it raw, it was the greatest mutual gift in the world. Also hearing her moan out, “You’re hitting it so good, don’t stop, Harry!” over and over was pretty nice too.

Yup, things had been going pretty well for the new couple. Even though they were still in the puppy-love phase, it wasn’t all sex all the time. Harry would sometimes come over and help her late into the night as she was crafting activities for her class the next day, or he’d go to the art supply store with her because Danielle never made a list and she would often forget at least one thing she needed for class. Harry always remembered what she’d forget. Danielle was also a big help with the fire department’s fundraising efforts. She made the best hash browns anyone had ever had at the monthly pancake breakfasts. The deputy fire chief even got them a matching set of aprons. Things were going so well that she even started to let him call her Dani.

One Sunday afternoon they were walking through the grocery store together. Harry liked pushing the cart for Danielle as she mumbled to herself about what she needed for the week. She liked that he joined her because he could pick out the snacks he wanted to leave at her place, and vice versa. They were walking down the coffee aisle, Harry liked Hazelnut and Danielle liked French Vanilla.

“Dani?”

Danielle looks over in the direction of the deep voice that said her name. Her eyes widen when she realizes it’s her ex, Oliver.

“O-Oliver?”

“Oh my god, it’s so good to see you!” He exclaims, throwing his arms around her. She doesn’t reciprocate. “It’s been what, three years?”

“Something like that.” She swallows, and hooks her arm around Harry’s waist. “This is my boyfriend, Harry.”

“Hi.” Oliver shakes Harry’s hand. “You shop here a lot?”

“Yeah…this is the grocery store closest to my apartment, why?”

“This is my first time as this specific store. My fiancé lives in the area, and we’re choosing to buy a house here so her son won’t have to switch elementary schools.”

“Her…her son?” Danielle wanted to smack him.

“Yeah, guess he’s like my son now too.”

“Olly? Did you find the decaf tea?” A woman long blond hair, and a slightly swollen belly comes rolling her cart down the aisle with a little boy sitting in it. “Oh…Danielle…hi.”

“Hi, Rory.”

“Miss Robinson!” The boy exclaims.

“Hello, Joey.” She tries to say with a smile. Danielle wasn’t sure how she could have been so stupid. Joey took the bus to and from school, and she had only ever spoken with his father. She also didn’t make a second glance at his mother’s name on his contact list since it was under Lorelei.

“Joey raves about you all the time.” Rory says, trying to cut some of the tension.

“Mumma, it’s Chief Harry!”

“Aw, nice of you to remember me, buddy.” Harry says. “Um, we’ve got frozen stuff in the cart, so we should probably get going, right, darling?” He says, looking at Danielle, and she feels thankful for him finding a way out of all this.

“He’s right, we should really get going.”

“Guess we’ll be seeing more of each other, huh, Dani?” Oliver says with a soft smile.

“So it would seem.” She looks at Joey. “See you tomorrow morning in class, Joey.”

Harry pushes the cart as they walk away. She was beyond mortified. They get in line and pay for their things. She had driven there, but she has Harry drive back to her place. She was quiet until they got inside her apartment to put the food away.

“He, uh, seemed a little delusional there, no?” Harry says.

“He’s always lived with his head in the sand.” She scoffs. “Rose colored glasses, you know?”

“Did you not know that-“

“No, I didn’t realize that Rory, the person he cheated on me with, had a son. I knew that she was a married woman. They got divorced because of Oliver.” She shakes her head. “Joey’s father is such a sweet man, I can’t believe I never put the pieces together.”

“How exactly did they meet?”

“The first school I worked at was a K-5 a few towns over. Rory was the principal’s secretary, she still is, I think. I brought Oliver with me to a holiday party, and they got to talking. She’s a couple of years older than he and I are. I don’t exactly know how things progressed from there, but apparently she’s pregnant with his kid, they’re engaged, and they’ve bought a house! Isn’t that just kick you in the crotch, spit on your neck fantastic?”

“Remind me to never watch Friends reruns with you again.” He chuckles.  “I can’t believe he had the nerve to hug you like that?”

“He hugged me like that because he’s still in love with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Until I blocked him on literally every platform that I could, he would send me these messages about how he fucked up and that he’d do anything to win me back. He’s in a loveless relationship. He’s made his bed and now he has to lay in it.”

“Does Rory know it’s a loveless relationship?”

“I doubt it. If I had to guess they probably got engaged after they found out she was pregnant. It was probably her way of trapping him.” Danielle rolls her eyes. “You know what they say, once a cheater, always a cheater.”

“Well,” he comes around her to hold her from behind, kissing her cheek, “you don’t have to worry about that or pay it any more thoughts, alright?”

“Yeah.” She smiles and turns to kiss him. “I just hope I don’t start running into them all the time now.”

“We could always go to the market near my place, or we could do the online order thing.” He shrugs. “Whatever you wanna do. I just don’t want that idiot making my baby upset.” He pouts at her and she pouts back.

“I love that I get to be your baby.” She sighs as she nuzzles into his chest.

“Me too…I…I love you, Dani.” He kisses her forehead before she looks up at him.

“You do?”

“Mhm.” He smiles. “Guess there’s no perfect time to really say it, but that’s how I feel.”

“Oh, Harry, I love you too.” She kisses him, and blinks some tears away. “Like, a lot.”

“Let’s get these groceries put away, hm? Then I’ll fuck you on the counter. Would you like that, sweetheart?”

“I would, very much so.” She chuckles.

//

It was the last day of school, so Danielle had both of her groups in the morning. There was a small ceremony for the kindergarteners to commemorate them being able to move on to the first grade. They each got a personalized certificate with some type of achievement they earned in Miss Robinson’s class. She spent two weeks working on them. Once it was over, Danielle had to clean up her classroom for the summer.

“Happy last day of school, babe.” Harry says as he walks in, holding a small bouquet of flowers.

“I think you should ask for a separate office here with how often you come to visit.” She jokes as she takes the flowers. “Not that I’m upset, but what are these for?” She smiles.

“You made it through another year with a group of five-year-olds, thought you should have something nice for it.”

“Well, that’s very thoughtful, thank you.” She kisses his cheek. “I’m just finishing up here and then we can grab lunch.”

Harry nods as he waits for her, helping her take a few boxes out to her car. He thought she looked gorgeous today in her light blue sundress. They enjoy their lunch together before Harry has to go back to work.

“Wanna come to my place tonight?” She asks before they part ways.

“Sure.” He pecks her lips. “Want me to bring dinner?”

“No, I can cook. I’ve got stuff to make a taco salad.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later.” They kiss again and off they go.

Things had gotten quite domestic with one another, and Harry was really starting to like it. He also really liked that she was about to be off for the entire summer. Sure, Harry had bonfires, lawn mowers, grills, and other things of that nature to worry about, but his group of volunteer fire fighters would be coming on once again, so it freed up a little more time for himself. He’d be able to take a vacation with Danielle if she wanted. Or he could just take a ton of long weekends so he could spend some time with her. He wasn’t exactly sure what she did over the summer, but he figures they’ll talk about it soon.

When Harry gets to her apartment later that night, he realizes soon means tonight. Danielle was running around her apartment in a tank top and shorts boxing things up and packing.

“Hey, uh, what are you doing?” He says, startling her.

“Oh! I didn’t even hear you come in!” She gasps and clutches at her chest. “Sorry, I’m just trying to get my shit together. I always save this stuff for the last minute.”

“Are you moving?” He asks, almost frantic.

“What? No.” She chuckles. “But I do need a lot of my things with me for when I go up to Seabrook.”

“Seabrook?”

“To my parents’ summer house. I told you they had one, they’re snowbirds, remember?”

“Yeah, you mentioned that…” He swallows. “Are you going for a long weekend?”

“No, I’m going for the majority of the summer. I was actually sort of hoping you’d be able to water some of my plants, but if you can’t I can ask the neighbor again.” She goes over to him and gives him a kiss. “Come on, I set dinner up in the kitchen for us.”

They both go into the kitchen and sit down with their taco salads.

“You’re sort of blindsiding me a bit, babe. I mean, you’ve known you were going to New Hampshire all this time and didn’t think to tell me?”

“I figured I’d come back on weekends.” She shrugs. “You’re going to be working all day, so I figured you wouldn’t really mind if I wasn’t around as much.” She takes a bite of her food. “I also thought maybe you could come up and visit…you know, meet my family.”

“It’s gonna be torturing not being able to come over and see you after work.” He pouts. “But of course I’d love to meet your family.”

“I know…that’s sort of why I was keeping it to myself. I’ll miss you just the same, I hope you know that. This is just really precious family time that I wait all year for.”

“I get it.” He sighs. “What weekend would you want me to come meet them?”

“I’ll have to ask my parents what weekend would work best for them. The first couple of weeks are spent catching up with their friends, and whatnot. The house is in a fifty-five and over community.”

“And you won’t mind driving back on weekends?”

“Not at all.” She shakes her head. “All of the traffic will be going the other way, and the beaches are always so crowded on the weekends. It’ll be perfect.” She smiles at him and leans in a bit. “Plus, I’ll be coming back to you with sun kissed skin. I’ll have lots of tan lines to show you.” She winks and it makes him chuckle.

“Alright, alright. I get to use more time off in the summer, so I’ll be able to take lots of long weekends. We have more of a crew because a lot of our volunteers are teachers, so they have more time to help out.”

“That’s good! I’m so happy the school year is over with. Did you see I put the flowers you got me in a vase?” She points over to the vase in her kitchen window.

“I did.” He nods, a smile growing on his lips. “M’glad you liked them.”

“I loved them.” She kisses his cheek. “You’re so sweet to me, Harry.”

“You’ve turned me into a total mush ball.” He sighs. “But I suppose that’s not a bad thing.”

“You were a mush ball the second you walked into my classroom for the first time.” She smirks.

“And you were a flustered little thing.” He smirks as her face falls. “Ah, she can dish it out, but she can’t take it.” He kisses her temple and takes their now empty plates to the sink. “When are you heading up?”

“A couple of days.” She sighs. “I hate packing so much, it’s the worst.” She groans. “I just keep telling myself I’ll be relaxing on a screened in porch soaking in the ocean breeze with a book in my hand before I know it.” She flops down onto her sofa and Harry sits next to her, rubbing her back. “At least I’ll see my niece and nephew soon too. I love getting to spend so much time with them.”

“Tell me about them, I wanna know as much about your family as I can before I meet them.”

“Really?” She sits up to look at them.

“Mhm.” He puts a pillow on his lap. “Come lay one me. I’ll play with your hair while you talk.”

“If I didn’t love you before.” She giggles, and rests her head in his lap. He starts scratching at her scalp and she sighs. “Okay, so, my dad…”

They both fell asleep on the couch that night talking. Harry told Danielle a lot about his family as well. In the wee hours of the morning, Harry carried her to the bed, and they both snuggled up while they got a few more hours of sleep.

//

“Danielle, it’s the middle of the night! Where are you going?!” Her brother Clark asks her in a panic. “Shit, are you crying?”

“I…I just got a call.” She sniffles as she throws her hoody on. “I have to get home.”

“Why, what’s happening.”

“H-Harry’s deputy chief called me…there was a really big fire a few hours ago, and a wall collapsed on him, and now he’s in the hospital.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I have to get home to him, Clark, I need to be there when he wakes up.”

“You’re in no condition to drive, especially not for two hours. I’ll go with you. Let me just go to Isabelle.”

“You don’t have to do that, I’m fine.” She wipes her eyes. “I’ll let you know when I get there. I’ll be back in a few days, I’m sure of it.”

She rushes out of the house and gets into the car. She had the radio practically silent, and she was sucking down an iced coffee. Caffeine put her anxiety into hyper drive, but she needed to stay awake somehow. Harry wasn’t even supposed to be at that fire. He got called in as backup, but he wasn’t supposed to go inside. He went in looking for the family’s new puppy.

Once she gets to the hospital, probably looking like a mad woman in her pajama pants and oversized hoody, she checks in and asks where Harry’s being kept.

“Please, I’m his girlfriend, I need to-“

“Dani!” The deputy chief, Ralph, comes rushing towards her. “He just woke up, come with me.” He yanks her by the wrist before the nurse at the desk can say anything.

“Is he okay?”

“He will be.” Ralph nods. “Here we are, go ahead in. Take your time with him.” Ralph smiles, and Danielle returns it.

“Harry?” She says just above a whisper.

“Hey, baby.” He gives her a soft smile. “What are you doing here?”

“I hopped in my car a second after Ralph called me. I was so worried.” She sits on the edge of his hospital bed.

“I’m okay, sweetheart, just a few scrapes and bruises.”

“Harry…your arm’s in a sling.”

“Just a sprained wrist, it’ll heal up real soon.”

“How can you be so calm about this?” She asks as she curls up next to him. He throws his arm around her and sighs.

“Because if I let every little accident scare me, I wouldn’t be able to do my job properly. This is what I signed up for, babe.”

“Did you at least find the puppy?”

“I did, shielded the poor thing from the wall that collapsed on me. M’gonna have to go on light duty for a while.”

“Which means what exactly?”

“Lots of administrative work…that I can do remotely. So, I was thinking…maybe I could come up to Seabrook with you for a little longer than a weekend.”

“I’d love that! We can drive back up together. Everyone’s excited to meet you.”

“I’m excited to meet them too.”

//

After Harry rested up for a few days at home, with Danielle doting on him even though he told her she didn’t need to, the two drive up north together.

“Auntie Dani’s back!” Sarah exclaims as she bursts out of the porch.

“Sarah!” Isabelle yells after her. “We don’t run out of the house, no matter how excited we are to see Auntie.” She picks her daughter up. “Sorry, Dani.” Isabelle chuckles.

“No worries.” Danielle laughs. “This is my boyfriend, Harry. Harry, this is my sister-in-law Isabelle.”

“Hi.” Harry says, and Isabelle gasps when she sees his arm in a sling. “Just a sprained wrist, m’fine.” “It’s nice to meet you. This must be Sarah, yeah?”

“Hello.” The little girl smiles.

“Come on, everyone’s inside getting ready to head down to the beach.” Isabelle says.

Harry and Danielle follow inside. She takes him into the kitchen where her parents, Robert and Donna were finishing up their coffee.

“Dani!” Donna smiles. “How was the ride back up?”

“Fine, not a lot of traffic once we were out of the city.” She smiles. “This is Harry.”

“The hero that saved the puppy!” Robert says.

“I’m no hero, just did my job. It’s nice to meet you both. Thank you for inviting me to your home.” He shakes both of their hands.

“Are you kidding? We were over the moon when Dani said she’d be bringing a boyfriend with her.” Donna says. “Honey, why don’t you help Harry get settled and then meet us down at the beach?”

“Okay.” Danielle nods.

The two bring their things inside while everyone else makes their way to the beach. Danielle helps Harry put his clothes away in the dresser.

“So…are we alone right now?” Harry asks casually after putting his things away in the bathroom.

“Um, yeah. Everyone went down to set up at the beach, why?”

“Well…” He sits down on the bed and tugs her to sit on his lap, straddling her. “I haven’t been able to do much the last few days, and I’d like to make up for it.”

“Harry.” Her face flushes. “I can’t just fuck you here.”

“In the privacy of a bedroom? Here I was thinking this would be the perfect place.” He rolls his eyes.

“I just…” She bites her bottom lip. Before she can say anything when she opens her mouth again, he’s kissing her. “Fuck, okay, but we have to be quick. And no leaving marks, I don’t need to feel like a teenager at the age of twenty-seven.”

“How about no marks in any visible places?”

“Harry, I’m gonna be wearing a two piece, a lot is going to be visible.”

“Your ass?”

She whimpers softly and kisses him again. They both fall back on the bed, careful not to hurt his wrist. Danielle ended up riding his dick since he couldn’t really prop himself up with hands at the moment, but neither of them minded. It was a much-needed release for the both of them. Once they’re both cleaned up, they change into their bathing suits and go down to the beach to join her family.

“Auntie Dani, do you wanna dig a moat with me?” Ryan asks her the second she sets her things down.

“Sure! Just let me get some sunscreen on, okay?”

“You’re already looking a little red.” Clark remarks, and she glares at him. “Nice to meet you, Harry.”

“Same to you.” Harry says as he sits down in his beach chair.

Danielle peels her coverup off, and lathers up in sunscreen before grabbing a sand toy to help Ryan dig a moat. Isabelle was down by the water with Sarah.

“Harry, do you like seafood?” Donna asks him.

“I do.” He nods.

“Wonderful, I thought it would be nice to go out to eat since you’re here with us now. Celebrate having a full house and whatnot.”

“Oh, well…that sounds nice, thanks.” Harry smiles at her.

“I hope you won’t be too miserable working from inside the house…there’s no central air or anything.” Robert says.

“Oh, it’s not a problem. Heat doesn’t exactly bother me.” He smirks, and Danielle flicks some sand at him. “Oi, what was that for?!”

“No fire fighter jokes or puns.” She points a finger at him warningly. “We’re on vacation.”

“Come on, that was a good one, admit it.”

“I will do no such thing.” She looks at her parents who were chuckling at the exchange. “Don’t encourage him, it’ll only make it worse.”

“Anyways,” he side eyes her and then looks back at her parents, “I’ll probably just set up on the porch when I need to hop onto email. My deputy chief is taking on a bit more for me for the next couple of weeks.”

Harry never really saw himself being a dad someday, but as the day went on, and he watched Danielle interact with Sarah and Ryan, he suddenly understood why women would get baby fever seeing a man hold a baby. He may have only been with Danielle for five months, but fuck…he wanted to be the father of her kids. Yes, he got to spend an entire week with her and her classroom, but it’s not like he got to witness her loving on any of the kids. The way she cradled four-year-old Sarah to her chest as she napped, or splashed around in the water with Ryan, well, if he had ovaries they’d be bursting.

Seeing her help them at dinner was just as cute too. Sarah insisted that her booster chair be places next to Danielle, and Danielle ended up helping cut up Sarah’s chicken fingers. Then Harry got to witness Danielle tucking Sarah and Ryan in for the night to give Clark and Isabelle a break.

The two decide to turn in a bit early since it had been a long day. Danielle was sitting up in bed reading her romance novel. Harry was reading the same one. They had formed a little book club with another once they found out they liked the same genre of fiction.

“Dani?” He says to her.

“Hm?” She says without looking at him.

“Do you think you wanna have kids of your own one day? Or are your kindergartners enough kids for you?”

She immediately closes her book and looks at him. She was a little shocked.

“I…I always thought if I met the right person then I’d want to have kids. Like, turning that love into something physical, you know? What’s got you asking me about kids all of a sudden?”

“In all honesty…watching you with Ryan and Sarah today sort of sparked my interest. You’re so good with them in so many different ways. I…I mean I never really thought twice about having kids, but if you and I decide this is a long term thing…I’d love to be the person you have kids with.”

“Thought you didn’t like playing the what if game.” She leans in and pecks his lips.

“I don’t.”

“Okay, so, it’s not an if with us, Harry, it’s a when.”

He smiles and kisses her tenderly.

“You’re the love of my life, you know that?” He says against her lips before kissing her again.

//

The school year was just about to start again. Classes would begin just after Labor Day. How were Harry and Danielle spending their long weekend? Well, she was currently bouncing up and down on his dick reverse-cowgirl on her couch while he sucked a nasty bruise into her neck, rubbing her clit with one hand, and kneading one of her breasts with the other. She felt like she was drooling from how good everything felt. The two of them had both tanned nicely over the summer, and now they Danielle was fully back in her apartment, Harry was taking full advantage.

“Fuck, fuck!” She pants. Harry was thrusting up into her, pounding against her g-spot.

It was how she liked it, she didn’t care if she was sore later, and he was happy to give it to her like this. She turns her head slightly and she licks into his mouth to suck on his tongue. He replaces his tongue in her mouth with two of his fingers, which she was happy to suck on while his fingers continued to work her clit. They had been together for a while now, and sometimes when you were a little older, time didn’t make much of a difference when you were trying to check off certain boxes with the person you loved most. So, Harry just blurts out what he’s thinking.

“I think we should move in together.” He grunts, and she gasps around his fingers.

“Wh-what?” She says, whining because she’s so very close. This wasn’t the type of talk she enjoyed during sex. “Harry, please, I’m almost there, can we talk about this after?” She tugs at his hair, making him groan.

He grips her hips, helping her rock faster on him, and she goes to rub her own clit. He was fucking so hard and deep that she thought her spine was going to crack in half, but she didn’t fucking care. She wanted it. He hits it just right again, and her eyes roll into the back of her head as her back arches, her body molding into his as she rides it out. His come shoots up inside her a moment after, and he presses his lips to her temple. She tries to move off him, but he wraps his arms around her tummy to keep here there.

“Can we talk now?” He breathes, his breath hot on the shell of her ear and she whimpers. “I really think we should live together.”

“And whose place do you want to live at, hm? We’re both pack rats, Har. We both need home offices, we both-“

“Just answer the question: do you want to live together?”

“Yes.” She looks over her shoulder at him. “I do.”

“Okay, then.” He smiles and gently lifts her off of him. “Right when we started dating, I got pre-approved for a home loan.” He wraps her up in the blanket she has on the couch and carries her into the bedroom so they can both lay down before cleaning themselves up. “I put the house hunting on hold, obviously…I’d need to get pre-approved again since the three-month window they gave me lapsed, but…I can afford a pretty decent house.” He smiles fondly at Danielle. She had that after sex glow to her, and it always made him melt.

“You…you can afford a house?”

“I can.” He nods. “Been saving up for a while. I was sort of hoping…well…we could look at houses together. I could buy it, and then we could split the mortgage payments, or I could just pay the mortgage and you could take care of the utilities and other bills. Whatever makes more sense.” He shrugs. She blinks a few times and then licks her lips.

“I just…wow, I can’t believe you wanna do something so huge with me. Buying a house with someone is a pretty big deal.”

“I feel like it makes more sense to buy the house first, and then save back up for a wedding later, but that’s just me.” He gives her a smug look and her eyes widen. “I think that’s why the divorce rate is too high, not enough people live together before they get married.” A grin starts to form on her lips. “Don’t look at me like that, we’ve talked about long-term stuff before.”

“We’ve talked about hypothetical babies, not buying a house. Do you already have a realtor?”

“No, and we don’t really need one. We can just look up the houses we wanna see and contact the realtor that’s selling the home. A friend of mine did that and they said it was a way better experience.”

“I can’t believe this.” She shakes her and then giggles, throwing her arms around his neck. “You wanna be us a house! I wish I could help with the down payment, but my student loans have prevented me from putting a lot into my savings…”

“It’s no problem. You’re able to afford this place on your own, so I figured you’d be able to help with bills and stuff.”

“I definitely will be able to.” She kisses his cheek. “Let’s go take a shower and then we can start looking on realtor.”

“Eager.” He smirks as she tugs him up from the bed.

“Now’s the time to buy! All of the snowbirds who are looking to make the big plunge to warm weather full time will be looking to get rid of their houses, and with the school year starting we don’t really have to worry about competing with families. It’s perfect, Harry!”

It was, it really was.

//

By the beginning of October, the two were moved into a stunning home with four bedrooms, and four baths. They got just about everything on their wish list, and anything they didn’t, Harry said he could make happen. Danielle was able to pass out candy for Halloween to the kids in the neighborhood, which delighted her to no end because a few of her new and previous students stopped by. And when it came time for Thanksgiving, even though they weren’t full unpacked, Danielle was able to host a fabulous dinner for her family.

It wasn’t always perfect, they disagreed on paint colors, furniture, curtains, and rugs. They usually found some way to compromise, though. Sometimes Danielle had trouble checking her attitude at the door. There was one evening she got home a little later than usual, so Harry got dinner started. A nice gesture on his part, which she thanked him for. However, when it came time to clean up, she wouldn’t stop huffing while she loaded the dishwasher.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” He finally asks. “Why are you reorganizing everything?”

“Because you never put anything in here right.” She snaps. “Bowls and cups go on the top rack. Look at this! You put one of the little plates up here, how the fuck is that supposed to get cleaned properly?” She says as she moves the small plate to the bottom rack. “You also don’t load the silverware correctly. Did you want me to stab myself?! I’m usually the one that has to unload it.” She huffs again after throwing a pod in and turning the dishwasher on. She crosses her arms and looks at him. “I’m your girlfriend, not your mother.”

“I never said you were.” He crosses his arms as well, astonished at her tone.

“Yeah? So, did you think that your dirty socks and underwear just magically picked themselves up and put themselves into your hamper? Did you think that the bed magically gets made? Did you think that the broom and dustpan do a little fucking dance and that’s how the shmutz on the floor gets cleaned up?!”

“You’re making it seem like I don’t do anything to help out around here. I’m the one that rakes the leaves and mows the lawn, I’m the one that has to stop what I’m doing to come kill a bug every time you yelp, I’m the one that takes care of all the trash in the house-“

“Only when I say something about it overflowing. I have to tell you to do everything!”

“Look, I’m sorry I don’t load the dishwasher in the way that you’d prefer, but the dishes get clean, so-“

“No, they don’t. I either have to run it again, or I wash the stuff by hand. We’re gonna have kids someday, Harry, I don’t want them picking up on your bad habits.”

“My bad habits?!” Okay, now he was getting angry. “I have to ask you to clean your hair out of the shower drain. In fact, your hair is fucking everywhere! You never wipe off the mirror after you pop a pimple, which you know you shouldn’t be doing anyway.” He rolls his eyes. Her face falls into a deep frown. “Not so much fun when someone’s pointing out your flaws, is it?”

“Fuck off.” She turns on her heel and makes her way out of the kitchen.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be. You’re going to start an argument with me, but you’re not going to finish it?” He says as he follows her out to the staircase.

“You asked me what was wrong, and I told you.” She states.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to be such a bitch about it.” Her eyes widen with anger at that, and her nails press into her palms. She starts stomping her way upstairs. “Dani.” He sighs. “Shit, I didn’t mean to say that.” He follows her up the stairs.

“But you did.” She goes into the bedroom and almost shuts the door in his face, but he catches it, making his way in. “You men are all the same, you know that? Any time a woman calls you out on some crap, she’s a bitch.”

“You got upset over something as insignificant as loading a dishwasher. You know we’re lucky to even have one? There are people who don’t have the luxury.”

“Yeah, I know! And I’d probably be the one to always be washing the dishes.”

“If it bothered you that much, then why didn’t you say something to me before?”

“Because I didn’t want to come off as naggy! I don’t want to be one of those women that’s always telling their partner what to do and how to do it, but holy fuck, who actually raised you?! I mean, some of the things you do, I just don’t understand.” She shakes her head.

“We were obviously raised differently.” He sighs. “You know if you just told me-“

“But I don’t want to have to tell you! I don’t want to have to ask because I shouldn’t have to.”

“I’m not a mind reader, Dani!”

“I’m not asking you to be! But when the sink is full of dishes, do you think you could take care of it without me having to mention it? Do you think that when the trash is full you could just bag it up and take it and put a new bag in? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve accidentally thrown something out without a bag being in the barrel. It drives me bananas!”

“Okay, I’ll…I’ll try to be better about those things. I don’t want you to feel like you’re having to pick up after me.” He runs a hand through his hair.

“And…I’ll try to not just explode on you when something’s been bothering me.” She sits on the bed and lays back. “Ugh, I just had a long day. Kids are starting to get colds, and the meeting I had after school just wouldn’t end, I’m supposed to get my period in a couple of days so I feel bloated and gross.” Harry sits down next to her and rubs her thigh. He looks down at her with a soft smile. “Listen to me.” She sighs. “Here I am complaining about stupid things when you literally put your life at risk every time you go to work.”

“Don’t compare us, babe. You’re allowed to feel annoyed and stressed.”

“How do you always stay so calm?” She tugs him down to lay with her.

“I don’t know. It’s hard to stay upset when I have such a cute girlfriend.” He kisses her cheek and she giggles.

“I’m sorry I got so mad.”

“It’s okay, baby.” He kisses her cheek again. “We’re bound to have an argument once in a while. The most important thing is that we always make up afterwards.”  He starts kissing on her neck and she bites her bottom lip.

“Harry, I just told you that I feel bloated and gross, and-“

“So, let me make you feel not gross.” He says as he moves on top of her. “Let me love on you, darling, it’ll help you destress.” He moves her up the bed until he’s situated between her legs. He undoes her pants and drags them down her legs. “Are you wearing boxer-briefs?” He questions.

“Y-yeah? I started buying them a little while ago. They’re more comfortable, and they breathe better. Plus, no panty lines.”

“How did I not notice this?” He blinks.

“Because I usually change when I get home into something a little sexier.” She chuckles.

“Actually…” He tugs on the band and lets it snap back against her skin. “You look pretty sexy in these.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He tugs them off of her and kisses on her tummy. He parts he legs and licks around her folds. She sighs and lets her body rest into the mattress.

“I really feel like I don’t deserve this since I was so nasty to you.” She says as she cards her finger through his hair.

“You can make it up to me by letting me fuck your mouth afterwards. Seems like you could use a break from running it, hm?” He sucks on her clit, making her groan, and she nods.

“Yeah, seems fair to me.” She gasps as he licks into her warm center, and uses his thumb on her clit. “Would you make me come a few times, though, at least?”

Her gives her a devilish smirk, which she takes as a yes while he continues to work his tongue in and out of her. He gave her four orgasms before crawling up her body and stuffing his throbbing down her throat. Feeling her nails dig into his hips as he thrusted in and out of her was everything he needed. They didn’t do stuff like this often. He didn’t want to be one of those couples where certain types of sex or positions were used as punishments. But he knew Danielle genuinely enjoyed feeling a little bit of pain, not that they’d ever talked about it. He didn’t want to embarrass her by bringing up one of her very obvious kinks. Whenever he did fuck her throat, though, she always moaned around him, and she’d end up drenched between her legs all over again, so he knew she enjoyed it. He also made sure to love on her right afterwards, praising her, telling her how good she did for him, and he’d get a glass of water for her to sip on while he cleaned her up. They had good, healthy relationship in many aspects. He loved her, he really fucking loved her, and he never wanted to be without her.

“Dani, fuck, I love you, I love you so much, shit!” He cries out as he comes down her throat. He pulls away from her carefully and she smiles up at him after swallowing. He wipes a few stray tears away from her cheek.

“I love you too.” She says, voice hoarse, but still there.

“Do you feel like taking a bath tonight? I could rub your shoulders for you.”

“I’d like that, yeah, thanks.”

//

A couple of months later, and it was fire safety week once again. They made it through their first holiday season together, and his thirty-third birthday. Now they had been together an entire year, owned a home together, and were looking into potentially getting a dog. Harry had told her all about the senior dogs at the shelter, and Danielle sort of liked the idea of not having to train a puppy, even if they were undeniably cute.

All of the kids in both of Danielle’s groups knew that Chief Styles was Miss Robinson’s very special friend because she had a picture of the two of them on her desk, and one of him as her desktop wallpaper. It was no surprise that some of the kids teased them a bit, and asked some personal questions, but other than that the week was going well as it usually did. When Friday rolled around, it was time for the kids to put on their performance for the fire department. It was an assembly all of the grades came to, along with the other teachers. Once the four songs, and a skit, are over, Harry goes up to give his thanks just as he did last year.

“Thank you all so much for another fantastic week. Fire safety is extremely important to learn at a young age. I know we had a lot of fun together, but remember, when you’re missing Chief Styles, don’t call 911 to talk to him. Have your parent or guardian come down to the fire house, and we can say hello there, alright?” That was usually where the assembly would end, but today things were going to go a little differently. “If I could have all of the kids back up on stage for a moment? Parents, I promise this won’t take more than a couple of minutes.”

Danielle was visibly confused because she hadn’t planned anything else with the students, and Harry hadn’t mentioned adding anything special today. So, she sat in her seat in the front row and watched. She leaned over next to one of her colleagues.

“Do you know what’s going on?” She asks.

“Just watch, Dani.” Her colleague says, and Danielle sits up straight in her seat again.

All of the kids were holding a piece of paper in their hands. It was facing blank towards the audience. Some of them were giggling as Harry and the other fire fighters placed them in certain spots. Ralph gives Harry a thumbs up, and he starts speaking into the microphone again.

“Not a lot of people know this, or maybe they do, I don’t really know, but last year was my first year getting to host fire safety week with the lovely Miss Robinson, and over this last year she’s managed to steal my heart, giving me the great privilege of calling her my girlfriend.” The kids behind him snicker and giggle. “You said you’d all be cool, come on.” He looks over at Danielle, who still really had no idea what the fuck was going on. “Miss Robinson, could you come here for a moment?”

She nods, and gets up slowly, walking over to him. He takes one of his hands in hers.

“What are you doing?” She whispers.

“You’ll see.” He winks. “Miss Robinson has taught her kids how to spell lots of interesting words already this year. She teaches them how to sound things out, and all that good stuff. I had a chance to teach them something this week and they’ve been dying to show you.” He tugs her to the side so the whole audience will be able to see. “Alright, kids, flip your papers over to show Miss Robinson.”

She gasps when she sees it, cupping a hand over her mouth as her eyes start to well up. All of the papers spelled out: M I S S – R O B I N S O N – W I L L – Y O U – M A R R Y – M E ? She looks at Harry, who was now down on one knee, holding up a gorgeous ring in a little black, velvet box.

“It says, Miss Robinson, will you marry me?” He says to her with a beaming smile.

“I can see that.” She says, wiping some tears from her cheeks.

“Will you?”

“Yes! Oh my god, yes.” Everyone in the room cheers as Harry slips the ring on her finger. He stands up, and kisses her, not to vulgarly because there were kids around, but enough to show how happy he was that she said yes. “When did you have the time to plan all of this with them?”

“Got their parents’ emails from one of the other teachers.” He smirks. “Are you surprised?”

“I’m shocked!” She turns to her students. “You all kept such a big secret from me!” They crowd around her to hug her as she opens her arms for them.

A ton of the teachers, parents, and fire fighters all come up to the congratulate the pair. Once all of the fuss is over, and the cafeteria is cleared, Harry and Danielle go back to her classroom so she can pack up her things for the day.

“Do you like the ring?” He asks nervously.

“Are you kidding, I love it! It’s so beautiful, baby.” She pecks his lips. “I can’t wait to call my parents, I’m buzzing! Think of how cute Sarah’s going to be as a flower girl. Oh, and they’ll start calling you Uncle Harry, how sweet!”

“Gonna have to let Ryan be a groomsman, or I think he’ll try to kill me.” Harry chuckles. “He’s quite protective over his Auntie Dani.”

“And don’t you forget it.” She presses her finger to his chest. He leans in and kisses her tenderly. Normally, Danielle didn’t like getting so lovey dovey in her classroom, but she figured she had a good excuse in case anyone walked in. “I still can’t believe you planned all of that and pulled it off. Those kids usually can’t keep a secret.”

“I promised them all a ride in one of the fire trucks if they kept their mouths shut.”

“Damn, that was really smart.” She chuckles.

“I’d say so.” He smirks. “Do you feel like going out to eat tonight to celebrate? Ralph and his husband were hoping to treat us.”

“Sure.” She nods. “I’ll just need to cancel my yoga classes really quick.”

“You can still teach your classes if you want. I can just tell him we won’t be ready until later.”

“No, see, I wanna go home, and stay there for a bit.” She tugs on the suspenders that were keeping his fire pants up. “I’d like to celebrate with you privately first, Chief Styles.” She takes his hat off and puts it on her own head before catching his bottom lip between her teeth and sucking on it. He groans into the kiss, and she lets his lip snap back. He had inadvertently put her into one of her ‘Chief Styles/Miss Robinson’ moods, which he wasn’t upset about in the least. “How’s that sound?”

“Well, Miss Robinson, I’d say it sounds like you’re trying to seduce me.” He smirks, and she rolls her eyes. It was her least favorite joke.

“I can’t wait to be Danielle Robinson Styles so that you can’t make that stupid fucking joke anymore. I’m not a forty-year-old woman seducing a recent college grad!” His face softens immensely. “What?”

“Nothing.” He puts his hands on her hips and gives her a squeeze. “I just…I didn’t think you’d want to change your name, is all.”

“Harry, I’d be proud to be called Mrs. Styles. Think of how cute it’ll be after we get married and I have a new class, and then when you come in for fire safety week, I’ll be able to say my husband, Chief Styles.” She pouts at him.

“Alright, it’s time we get you home before my stiffy pops through my pants.”

She giggles as she grabs her bag, and they both rush out of her classroom, and out to the car. They held hands the while way home, not wanting to be apart from one another’s touch for even a second.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Not a Duo

Summary: Aizawa informs Midoriya and Bakugou that the paperwork Bakugou submitted for their hero duo partnership is wrong. Midoriya's reaction surprises him. More so when more is revealed.

Shoutout to @legallyspawned and @nyx3927 for some of the suggestions.

On AO3

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  When Shouta got the papers, he had simply accepted them without much thought. Much like many others in UA, he had figured that Bakugou and Midoriya would eventually form a hero duo. Bakugou had taken the news that he was weaker in winter hard when they had figured it out, more so the news that he probably would have to be part of a duo given the volatile nature of his Quirk. Exploding hands weren’t great for rescues or apprehension.

  Everyone also knew that Bakugou had a thing for the green-haired girl. He certainly warded off any boys who might go near her but seemed to want to focus on his own school before asking her out. Shouta had figured eventually he would hear about them finally getting together, even as Nemuri argued that Midoriya wasn’t interested in Bakugou at all.

  When Shouta looked through the papers later though, he noticed that Bakugou had written independent on the papers as their agency, plus a few other minor things. It somewhat struck him as odd, that he would get it wrong, but as Midoriya had only haded in her signed copy of an acceptance to an agency across the country a day before Bakugou handed these forms in, perhaps they hadn’t had time to talk.

  The papers did need to be fixed, and so the next day during homeroom he brought it up.

  “By the way, Bakugou, Midoriya. You need to fix your hero duo papers- you put independent instead of the Kingsman Agency.”

 “...What the fuck?!” Midoriya asked and suddenly Shouta was staring down an angry teenage girl.

  Well… someone was dead.

 -0-

  Izumi stared at her teacher in shock and horror, before looking to Kacchan who looked annoyed and looked back at her.

  “What the fuck?” she repeated just ask he asked her,

  “You fucking signed a contract shitty Deku?!”

  “Yeah!” she said staring at him. “The Kingsman Agency is one of the top agencies in the country, plus it’s far away from you which was my plan.”

  “...What?” Kacchan asked.

  “I know that no agency other than some local ones wanted to sign you on. So I decided to get to the other side of the country so I could avoid you.” Izumi told him bluntly, glaring at him.

  “...What the fuck, is it because I haven’t asked you out yet?”

  Izumi jerked back, feeling very confused as she stared at him. Kacchan scoffed at her.

  “Of course it was. Look, Deku, my plan was to give you the papers so we could form a hero duo team and be independent together, and then ask you out.” He rolled his eyes. “Kingsman contract can’t be hard to break right? So-”

 “What the fuck!?” Izumi burst into loud laughter, slightly hunched over her desk, her laughter continuing as Hitoshi snickered along with Ochako.

  “I… doesn’t he know?” Tenya asked Yuuga who shrugged in answer from what she saw.

  “Oh god, my sides.” Izumi snickered. “What the fuck Kacchan?”

  The look on his face had her howling in laughter again, clutching her desk and wheezing.

  “What’s so funny?” he demanded angrily.

  “...She’s dating me.” Hanata voiced, the other girl lifting a hand and waving it. Izumi cackled again, laying her head on the desk.

  “Oh fuck this is good.”

  “WHAT?!” Kacchan shouted. “When the fuck did you start dating?”

  “Like second year?” Izumi snickered. “We just… haven’t said anything cause mom is homophobic as fuck.”

  “What?” Kacchan asked, glaring. “Auntie Inko?”

  “Yeah, god she hates anyone gay. I was like very in the closet for a long ass time Kacchan. I got lucky when I discovered that UA takes over part of the guardianship duties and I got confirmation she couldn’t like force me into an arranged marriage I was really worried about that.” Izumi felt a stab of pain in her chest.

  She loved her mom, she really did but she was very set in her ways and very firm. She had an idea of what life should be like for Izumi and would get upset when she even thought of altering it. Izumi was also aware that her mom would love for her to marry Kacchan which made her want to puke at the idea.

  Even if she wasn’t very gay, she would rather die.

  “Or well, hate is strong. Dislike yeah. Toshinori…” Izumi looked down, feeling very tired.

  All Might’s death had been a shock to everyone. He just didn’t wake up one day. His injuries finally caught up to him in the end.

  “Toshinori left me all his money so I can finish UA without worrying mom would stop paying for the schooling.” Izumi finally said. “I finally told her last month I was dating Hanata, reminded her she can’t sign any contracts for me not only because UA is in charge of that but also I am 18 now and left. I haven’t spoken to her since. I tried, she didn’t answer.” Izumi felt that pain hard.

  She wished her mom would talk to her.

  “How didn’t you know Bakubro?” Kirishima asked in confusion. “Sero like told us all when they got together.”

  “I told my friends,” Hanata corrected him shrugging. She reached out to grab Izumi’s hand and Izumi copied her, squeezing her hand. “Bakugou isn’t my friend. I’m friendly with him but like… gave up on ever considering him a friend when he kept calling me awful nicknames and treating me like shit.”

  “Yeah,” Kaminari admitted. “I kinda… I kinda just hang out with him cause you do Kirishima. I don’t like him all that much.”

  “Same,” Ashido said, rolling her eyes at the yelling that sparked in Kacchan until Aizawa flared his Quirk.

  “To simplify, Midoriya. You do NOT want to be a hero duo and Kacchan submitted false paperwork.” He asked.

  “Correct,” Izumi said. Kacchan shot her a look and she frowned. “Why are you so obsessed with the idea anyway? I mean… now I know apparently you want to date me which eww I am way too gay for that.” snickers came from everyone at that. “But like… why? I had no clue you even liked me. I sure as hell don’t like you at all.”

  “You call him Kacchan?” Sato asked in confusion. Izumi shrugged.

  “Because when we were kids he hated it? It’s a habit now. I just said it to piss him off like he used Deku to actually mean useless.”

  Her words had the class shifting slightly, looking to each other confused.

  “Hey, Kacchan,” Hitoshi spoke up then.

  “Don’t call me-” Kacchan stopped and Hitoshi asked before Aizawa could erase his Quirk,

  “Why do you want to be a hero duo with Izumi so much?”

  “None of the agencies who want to hire me plan on letting me do much. I wanted to use the money All Might left Deku and do heroing my way without having to listen to an agency. I also know the nerd won’t rise that far without me, she’s to useless-” Kacchan’s reply was cut off by a punch in the face from Izumi.

  “Are you fucking KIDDING ME?!” she screamed at him. “You… I knew you were low. I’ve known it since you told me to go fucking kill myself but this?!”

  “He what?” Hanata asked, raising from her seat herself. Izumi ignored her, glaring.

  “Fuck, well it’s fucking true! I’m going to be number one-” Kacchan started but she laughed in his face, hard.

  “Momo! We looked at the projection made by several different companies, right?” Izumi asked. Momo nodded, her face disgusted as she looked at Kacchan.

  “We did. All of them project that Midoriya Izumi, the hero Dekiru, would be in the top hundred within the next five years. Dynamight would only be in the two hundred at best.” Momo announced.

  “What?!” Kacchan cried but something about his tone had Izumi baring her teeth.

  “Liar. You knew this, you just don’t want to fucking admit you’re not as great as you claim, so you pretend it’s to help me.” She snapped. “Why am I not surprised, you always prefer burying your head in the sand than actually stepping up and admitting you did wrong. You did it when we were kids and you do it now.” She laughed bitterly. “I’m glad I’m getting the fuck away from you.”

  “You’ll have to deal with me sometimes,” he threatened. “We’re to good a team to-”

  “Are you trying to threaten me with requesting team-ups with me?” Izumi asked. He sneered at her. “Oh buddy, you do not want to go there.” she pulled out her phone and pulled up an audio file and pressed play.

      “Take a swan dive off a roof and pray for a Quirk in your next life.”  

      “Oi, Deku.”  

      “Kacchan, give me back my homework.” The sound of an explosion echoed. “Kacchan!”  

      “Ha! Serves you right fucking nerd. You didn’t deserve that mark on our last test.”  

  Izumi stared down Kacchan who went paler and paler as the audio went on. She finally stopped it after another verbal threat, well aware of the classroom.

  “I planned for years to release that after high school graduation. To watch you get what you wanted and then have it ripped away from you.” Izumi snorted, shaking her head. “I decided against it for a simple reason. I’ve met too many villains like you to think you would stay on a civilian path.”

  “I’m no villain!” he shouted.

  “You’re sure acting like one.” she shot back.

  “Agreed,” Aizawa spoke then, his voice cold. Izumi glanced around the room. Hanata looked pissed, about to do something to Kacchan by how her hands were clenched. Kirishima looked heartbroken. The rest of the class stared in disgust but truly not much shock.

  The shine of Bakugou had worn off years ago. He was nothing to them now.

  “Bakugou, we will be going to the principal’s office right now with the evidence Midoriya has offered. Not only are you in trouble for fraud given you attempted to sign hero duo papers without her permission, but due to the bullying you have heaped upon her…” he jerked his head to the door and Kacchan opened his mouth but closed it at the looks he got. He looked around, lost but no one looked at him.

  Kirishima even looked away, sobbing. Ashido and Kaminari had moved to comfort him while Hanata was too busy glaring at him.

  Kacchan walked out of the room, leaving Izumi to be tackled by her girlfriend and hugged tightly, while the entire class all burst into noise.

  Izumi hugged Hanata back, burrowing her face into her shoulder and let out a sob.

  God, why did this happen?

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

WE ARE A TEAM

Angel Reyes x Reader

Author comments: This work was one of my first requests, and I wrote only two chapters, but I always thought that it needed an ending. So, here it is, two months later. This work wasn't re-edited, so I'm sorry if you find grammar mistakes! I hope you all enjoy. Gif credits: @angels-reyes​.

@ifoundmyhappythought asked: Angel falling for a girl who’s pregnant (father didn’t want anything to do with a baby) and her being hesitant to get involved with him because she couldn’t believe anyone would want to her with all the “baggage” she comes with. Would want her with all the baggage she comes with** but angel doesn’t care he’s so enamored with her and is excited to be a dad 😭🥰

Word Count: 2.7k

Chapter one: here.

Chapter two: here.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @angelxshiba @sesamepancakes​  ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

It's almost break time, when the Principal knocks the door, coming into the classroom. He looks confused, walking towards the teacher to whisper something on her ear. Then, he leaves without any more words.

“Laura”.

The girl with black long hair raises her eyes from the textbook.

“You have a visit. Please, go to the Secretary”.

Surprised, the sixteen years old quickly gets up to run out of the class, jittery thinking that something bad happened. She moves her legs faster than never, crossing the long hallways, dodging other students. She can barely breathe when she reaches it, coming in without calling. There's no Mayan inside, but a middle-aged man sitting on a couch. He stares at the girl, visibly nervous, holding something that looks like a photography.

“Who are you?”

“Hi…” He just says, getting up and taking some steps close to Laura. “I am a… a… friend of your… mother”.

“Is she okay? Something hap—”.

“No, no, no. Keep calm, she's okay”. He raises a hand with the intention to reassure her, before hesitating offering the picture. 

“What's that?” She asks grabbing it to have a look.

Laura can see you being hugged by the man in front of her, but she doesn't understand what is going on. So she just stays quiet, waiting for an explanation.

“I am… I am your father, Laura”.

For a moment, she's about to laugh thinking that it's a joke of a hidden camera, until she realizes that it's not. That he's telling her the truth, by the gesture on his face. Hardly swallowing, she takes a step backward.

“I acted like a coward… I went to see you when you were born, but… those barbarians… those ‘Mayans’ didn't let me see you. And I'm sorry if it took me so long, to come back. I have no excuses. But I'm here and… I want to meet you”.

The world is falling down into pieces. There's a knot inside her chest that doesn't let her breathe as she should doing it. Laura steps out of the Secretary, leaving her stuff there. Leaving the high school. She's running without no destination and her eyes filled with tears. In one second, her life has collapsed. With only one sentence. With only four words. Knowing that everything was a lie hurts more than knowing that her true father abandoned her. Then, who is Angel Reyes?

— Three hours missing —

You stop dead the engine of your car, jumping out of it to cross the front yard of the clubhouse. The crew is reunited inside the Templo and you don't give a fuck about what they're talking about. Your husband looks at you confused, seeing the tears running down your cheeks like an uncontrollably storm. The guys quickly get up from their chair, worried, making questions that you can't answer till your husband holds you.

“Mi amor, what happens? Why are you crying?”

“Laura… La—Laura”.

“What happened, (Y/N)? Please, talk!”

“She has disappeared”.

“What the fuck…?” Ezekiel asks coming closer.

“I went to pick her up from school. And the Principal to—told me that… a man went to… to see her”.

You can't help but break into a loud cry, shaking under Angel's arms. He can't talk. He knows what it means. Everybody in that room know what it means. And they don't need a single word to know what they have to do, leaving the Templo sooner as their legs can run to their bikes.

“Ple—Please, Angel… Find our daughter… Please… I beg you”.

“I will, mi amor. I will… You stay here, okay? Maybe sh—she will come to the club”. He cups your face in his hands, kissing your lips for a second. “Look at me, mi amor, look at me… We will find her. Everything is gonna be okay”.

— Four and a half hours missing —

In less than one hour, the whole Cali is looking for Laura. Mayans, Sons of Anarchy, Hell's Wolves, Galindo Cartel… Even some contacts inside the DEA. There's no place in the coast, nor in the border, nor in Mexico that don't have someone looking for your daughter. But while you're calling all her contacts, and her phone off every two minutes, she's missing.

When Nestor calls Angel to tell him that Miguel has Matt under his possession, the oldest Reyes acts faster than never. He rides, followed by the crew, close to the border with Santa Madre; throwing his bike to the ground without caring about the scratches, running into the house. Miguel stops him with both hands on his chest, or he knows what would happen.

“Hey, hey, brother! Listen!”

“Where is that motherfucker?! I'm gonna fuckin' kill him!”

“Listen to me, Angel! He doesn't know where's Laura. He went to see her and gave her a picture with (Y/N)”.

“Let me go, Miguel! I'm gonna fucking cut him into fucking pieces!”

“ANGEL, FOCUS! Focus on finding Laura. Then, we all will take care of him”. Miguel says, claiming for his attention. “He's going to pay. But now, keep looking for YOUR daughter, okay?”

“Angel, let's go”. EZ places both hands on his shoulders, pulling him away. “Listen to Miguel”.

“Brother, Laura needs us”. Bishop says then, appearing behind him and palming his chest. “C'mon. Let's find the kid”.

“Matthew is not going anywhere, brother. Don't worry about it”.

— Eight hours missing —

Laura isn't stupid. She knows exactly where to go to feel safe of your lies, of everything that it's killing her right now. The sun is going down, plunging the city into the darkness of night. Even if it's not the best place to stay, she knows that no one is going to look for her at the old Coco's house. Grabbing the key under a broken rung, she goes downstairs to open the door. She remember good times in that flat and, even if the place is completely empty, there is a mattress to sleep on. 

She's starting to connect some dots of her past. Angel doesn't have any pictures with you of the first months being pregnant, nor even before of that. She doesn't have the last name of the Reyes. And you have always avoided to talk about how you met your husband. When she wants to realize, she's crying again, feeling unhappy, miserable and lonely. She wishes being with pops, because at least he knows what to say in every damn situation. But she doesn't want anyone to know where she is. So staying there, until see what she can or want to do, is the only option. 

— Twenty hours missing —

When Laura opens her eyes, it takes her some seconds to remember what happened yesterday and where she is. Coughing with dry throat, she sits up on the mattress resting her back against the wall. Grabbing the phone turned off from the floor, she checks that she has some bucks under the case, enough to have some breakfast. After cleaning her face and tie somewhat better her hair, she leaves the flat. Laura doesn't want to think about you, nor about Angel, nor about anything, covering her head with the hoodie sweatshirt walking with her chin down and avoiding main avenues. Today, she has a destination.

— Twenty two hours missing —

Your eyes are empty of tears, you're just in a constant shock. No drinking, no eating, no sleeping. About to finally collapse. Creeper took you to Felipe's house last night, because Angel thought you shouldn't be alone at the clubhouse, with the little hope that Laura went to her abuelo's house.

“Mija, come here”.

The old man sits by your side, holding you between his arms to give you a warm hug.

“We should have told her…” You whisper.

“It's never too late, (Y/N). She will understand that you did it to protect her, and because you love her”.

For first time in hours, you raise your gaze from your feet to his eyes, covered by a pair of glasses.

“We are her family, ella lo entenderá”. (She will understand it).

— One day and four hours missing —

Laura could win a national Hide and Seek. She learned from the crew, over the years. And that's despairing your husband. Angel didn't sleep a single second, riding around Santo Padre and the border once and again to the places he has visited with Laura since she was born. But nothing. It's as if the earth has swallowed her up.

“Baby, please… Call me. Mi dulcecito, I am… I am so sorry”. Angel is crying like never before, resting his body against his motorbike. “I promise I'll te—tell you the truth… Shit, I miss you, mami… Please, I be—I beg you. Call me”.

He has left thousands of voice messages. But he has received no reply.

— One day and seven hours missing —

Laura is reading for third time the documents between her fingers. She has been thinking about it the whole time, trying to understand why you hid it from her. She has been thinking about Angel, about the good moments, about all the love he gave her unconditionally. The travels, the nights at home watching movies, the days learning about mechanic and self-defense. He accept you and took care of you when Matt left you being pregnant. He loved Laura as if he was his true father. No asks, no complains, nothing. 

When she turns on her phone, it collapses for a minute. There are a lot of notifications. Calls, messages, videocalls, even emails. She swallows hardly, typing Angel's number by heart. For a second, she doubts. She could call tío EZ or her abuelo, to ask them first about the decision she has made. But it's been to long. And even if you are her mother, no one loves her more than your husband. Not even you. 

“Laura? LAURA? MI DULCECITO, WHERE ARE YOU? ARE YOU OKAY? ARE YOU HURT?”

“I'm… I'm okay. I'm sorry… Angel”.

His heart stop dead for some seconds, hearing her daughter calling him by his name. The oldest Reyes is surrounded by your family, while you're standing close to him, trying to hear her voice.

“I wanna see you”.

“Of course, mi amor. Tell me where you are… please”.

“I'll send you my location. Come alone”.

— Twenty minutes later —

As soon as Angel spots Laura, your husband parks his bike close to the sidewalk and, taking off the helmet throwing it to the ground, he runs to your daughter sitting on a bench. She gets up at the exact moment that the man's body collides with her. Crying like a child, finally hugging her tightly between his arms.

“Are you okay? Where have you been? Someone has hurt you?” The questions roll out of his mouth, cupping her cheeks in his big hands taking a look of his daughter.

“I'm okay… I'm okay”. She says once and again.

Angel covers her face with kisses, lifting her up and urging her to wrap his waist with her legs, like when she was a little girl. His little girl. Sitting on the bench, your husband rest his forehead on one of her shoulders, unable to stop crying. He was the whole time thinking about the worst things ever, but she's safe now. 

“I want the truth”. Laura finally asks, after some minutes hearing him sobbing.

“Tell me, mi amor. I will not hide anything from you again”.

She knows he's being sincere.

“How you met my mother?”

“I… I went with your tíos to Santa Madre. We were off to the club, and Coco wanted to go to the fair… And… she was there, hanging with her friends and she had a craving. You wanna know of what…?”

Laura simply nods.

“Green cotton candy”.

Your daughter smiles fleetingly. Her favorite. She could be eating it all the time.

“Your mother was wearing a black dress. Estaba preciosa, lo juro por Dios”. (She was beautiful, I swear to God).

“And pregnant”.

“Yeah. Five months. But that was the best day of my life 'cause I met the two loves of my existence”.

“You didn' care?”

“How I could, Laura? I lose my ass for her at first sight. As I did for you the day I took you in my arms… with this… pointed nose and your rosy cheeks”. Clarifying his throat, Angel cleans his tears with the back of both hands. “I know we hid it from you, I know we should have told you… but I was so… fucking terrified… So fucking terrified that I was having nightmares about it”.

“Why you… didn't give me your last name?”

“In the registry didn' let us do'et, mi amor. Not without your permission”.

There's a short silence installed between your husband and your daughter, where she takes the advantage to grab the cardboard folder.

“What… What is that?” Angel asks confused, twisting his neck some inches.

“Tell me… Tell me one last thing”. She said before giving him the papers. “Did you ever consider runni—”.

“Never in my fucking life, Laura. I don' give a shit about the man that got your mother pregnant, I don' give a shit about anything that he told you. And I never gave a shit about what people could think about how crazy I had to be to ask your mother out. I fuckin' love her. I fuckin' love you with all my heart and I will never love anyone like I love you, mi dulcecito. I would kill whoever it was for you, without no doubts. Just… Just tell me, and I'll do it”.

Those words looks enough for your daughter, finally giving him the folder.

“Open it”. 

“What i—”.

Angel can't finish the question when he reads the main title. He can't help but breaking into a loud cry again. Laura places his arms around his neck, hugging him, trying to comfort your husband.

“Take me home, please”.

— Thirty minutes later —

The front yard of the clubhouse isn't empty as your daughter thought. You are there, accompanied by EZ, Felipe, the whole crew and Miguel. Everybody waiting for her. And when you hear your husband's motorbike your heart jumps, crying again running through the yard towards the entrance. You can see them, and even if your husband has a serious gesture, you're happy to have your daughter back.

As soon as Laura gets up from the bike, you hold her into your arms, kissing your face and hugging her close.

“Mamá, I'm sorry… I'm so sorry”. She apologizes, looking at you with reddened eyes.

“I am the one who have to say sorry, mi vida. I should have told you”.

“I just… Let me tell something to the fam', and then we will talk”.

You just nod, looking at Angel for a second. He doesn't look sad, or unhappy anymore. Laura leads you in front of the guys, who are waiting for her to speak.

“Thank you”. She just says, keeping silence for a while. “For taking care de mi mamá, when she was pregnant. It wasn't your responsibility. We weren't your responsability, and you all welcomed her. And me. I'm sorry if I worried you. I know you all love me, as much as I do. As I will do it forever. But it's not easy when you find out your life was half lie. I just… needed to think about it”.

Angel appears from behind you two, giving you a cardboard folder. Taking it confused, you watch him surrounding your daughter from her back, leaving a kiss on her head.

“I want you to sign tha'”.

“What is this?”

“Laura Reyes' adoption papers”. Your husband says proud, resting his chin on Laura's head.

“We need your signature, mamá”.

[ateezmakemeweep]

on one condition.

seonghwa x reader; a walk to remember au

word count: 19k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of death and terminal illness)

park seonghwa had always been a troubled boy. 

and not in the cheesy, cliche 'bad boy' way, like he's parading around town with a motorcycle and worn leather jacket. 

in the 'he has absolutely no regard for himself or others' type of way. he doesn't care if he hurts himself in an attempt to prove he's the best nor does he care if he hurts anybody with his words or fists.

this all started fairly early in his life, showing questionable behaviors at the ripe age of eleven.

it started with skipping classes, asking to go to the bathroom and then meeting his friend's outside on the field; there had never been a child sent to the principal's office as many times as him that year.

by middle school, it had quickly escalated. 

vandalizing obscene objects and words onto the bathroom stall or spray painting on the back of the school. he was intelligent though, both naturally book and street smart, so he knew to wear black attire and a mask; he was only almost caught once.

his last few years of high school now consist of women and fighting.

because if he wasn't pounding into the newest girl of the week, telling her that that was fun but she knows where the door is, he was smacking some kid's head off the pavement for no other reason than that he could. 

that he had such uncontrollable rage in his body, probably from being stuck with and accustomed to the delinquent ways of his friends, that it was the only thing to make him feel better.

because he couldn't deny it, he didn't like who he was.

you had always been a good girl. 

and quite literally in the cheesy, cliche way: sweaters and a nonexistent dating life and your nose always in a book if you weren't at the church your dad preached at every sunday.

you didn't mind your simple, solitary life. 

you had gotten used to being alone and you didn't ever care when people made fun of you for it. because you liked your sweaters and reading and even spending your days after school tutoring younger kids.

it was a place you went every monday through friday, accustomed to the children and other helpers, mainly teachers, that were in the stuffy school library. 

you were surprised to see none other than park seonghwa walk through the doors one afternoon, looking around at the layout of bookshelves and tables like it's the first time he's ever seeing it.

you tried not to watch him float around the room, a blank expression on his face as he settled for standing in front of the main desk waiting for instruction. he was leaned against the wood with his arms folded and jaw set, a very obvious distaste and annoyance present on the boy.

you continued to work with the younger 7th grader who couldn't quite grasp the concept of solving for x, ignoring the way the head teacher pranced over and spoke hushly to the boy.

"and what exactly are you doing here, mr. park?"

seonghwa felt dread fill him immediately, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the teacher who kicked him out of class everyday back in tenth grade.

"tutoring," is all he says, surprised and ready to punch the older man in the mouth when he lets out a scoff.

because apparently after your third strike for starting a brawl in the cafeteria, the only options were suspension or helping out the very understaffed, depressing after-school programs along with an extra research project.

"how long?" the boy asked the principal who sat across from him, a large man with kind eyes despite the destruction the student in front of him has brought into the school since the day he started.

"the rest of the year, mr. park."

seonghwa's eyebrow raised as he truly considered suspension. 

because at least that would only be two weeks of sleeping in and dicking around, not eight months of excruciating 'volunteer' work with bratty preteens and mundane class work. 

that's why he got up and went towards the doorway, throwing a mock wink at the man.

"i think i'll take the suspension, sir."

but the chipper man laughed like he was told the funniest joke he's ever heard, rising from his throne and walking over to pat seonghwa's shoulder. 

"you'll start on monday in the library."

and now he sees he severely underestimated just how tragic today was gonna be, sitting across from a boy who's just as pissed off as him about being here.

"what do you need help with?" seonghwa finally asks after five minutes of silence, leaning back in his chair as he observes the scrawny boy.  

"i don't know, i don't even need this stupid help," the younger boy snaps, the words already getting under seonghwa's skin. "they forced me to be here."

"well, that makes two of us," he mumbles, his eyes moving to the test paper sticking out of the boy's backpack marker with red x's. "but it seems like you do need help, kid. a 42 is shitty."

your eyes widen hearing those words fall from his mouth, clearing your throat and throwing him a chastising look when he meets your gaze; he only rolls them and moves his stare into the kid's beady, brown eyes.

"now don't waste my time and i won't waste yours. open your book," seonghwa demands, the coldness in his tone visibly throwing off the boy.

you feel your heart grow heavy at the student's dejected, frustrated face, your chest burning with the need to yell at and scold seonghwa.

because that's the last way to approach a child already struggling and getting in trouble by his teachers and parents. 

he needs to be shown the problem in different ways until he finds out which one works for him and that's through someone's patience, kindness and genuine desire to help them - which is exactly what you tell seonghwa when 4:30 rolls around.

"thanks for the advice, y/n, but i think i'll be getting this shit over with my own way," he says, glaring at you before he attempts to leave.

you're quick to squeak out "wait," walking around until you're standing in front of him.

"look, i know you probably don't wanna be here," you tell him softly, gently, like the way you talk to kids who also don't wanna be doing work they don't understand. "but you can't take it out on them. you need to at least be nice and try to help him not only pass but also understand it. that's the whole-"

"I could give a shit if the kid passes or not," he snaps at you, pinched glare roaming over your face. "we're all not perfect little angels like you, y/n."

he's known you since elementary school, has watched you parade around with ugly sweaters and books and entertain the kids people avoid because they either spit on you when they talk or go on for hours about nonsense.

some people might find that commendable, that you give everyone a chance and seem to be completely pure and good, but he finds it incredibly irritating - he always had, watching you grow up through the years and feeling some sense of pity for you. 

because no one could genuinely be that kind and unbothered by the fact that they have no friends. that they smile in the faces of their bullies and give even the weirdest of kids the time of day.

"that's not why i'm saying it, seonghwa," you tell him softly. "i just want you to take this seriously. these kids need help."

"they need help when you're the one tutoring kids for fun," seonghwa scoffs, feeling himself grow more agitated and bitter as he talks down to you. "i don't know if you realize how sad that is."

but then in a strange twist of fate, it feels like you're the one talking down to him. because you can only find it in you to shake your head at him and meet his tense gaze.

"more sad than you needing to be forced to help anyone but yourself?"

whether he wants to admit it or not, your comment rings in his head for the rest of the day. he knows he's selfish and a bit of a dick but hearing it put so bluntly to his face causes his chest to churn uncomfortably.

"what does that bitch know anyway?" hongjoong coughs out after passing him a joint. "she's been a tight ass since birth."

"and it's only gotten worse with age," san says before he lets out a thoughtful hum. "but you know... she'd probably be hot if she wasn't such a prude."

the two boys in front throw him a disgusted look, seonghwa blowing smoke directly in the boy's face. 

"you're that desperate for a fuck, huh?"

san swats at the smoke around his face, rolling his eyes at his friends glassy, red eyes. 

"no! i'm just saying."

seonghwa can only picture you in his mind, sporting your ugly green sweater and worn sneakers, bare face looking at him with wide, innocent eyes and softly spoken words.

"don't see it," the boy grumbles out, hongjoong snorting next to him as he reaches out to grab the joint back.

"you know he could be on to something though," the driver says, placing the paper between his lips. "it's always the quiet ones who are freaks."

"ha, like you'd know pussy boy," san says, earning a loud smack on his mouth. 

seonghwa can only smirk at his two friends, knowing damn well you're the type of girl who's probably gonna die a virgin.

"so what do you know about acute triangles?" seonghwa asks the boy, clenching his fists under the table because how fucking hard is it to remember this?

he'd been working with him for almost two weeks now and he's been slowly making progress. 

some would say that the improvement in itself was a good sign but seonghwa was convinced if the boy had someone more cut out for this, he would've learned it by now.

he wouldn't be staring down at the blank paper with a questioning gaze on his face or religiously spend the first thirty minutes in a tense silence.

"there are....three angles," the boy says, uncertainty laced in his tone; seonghwa can only nod his head because wow, yeah, good job.

"okay. and what about them?"

the boy swallows nervously, eyes boring in to his like he's gonna help him out - he only stares back blankly, raising his eyebrow challengingly. 

and once the student sees that, remembers seonghwa's harshly spoken words reminding him to pay attention in class so they can both stop this bullshit, he blurts out "i don't know!"

seonghwa lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head. the boy lets out a loud, frustrated groan, throwing his pencil across the room and springing up from his chair.

"fuck this! this is so stupid!"

you watch as seonghwa just stares at the boy with a raised eyebrow, his arms crossed over his chest and you just know he's trying not to roll his eyes or scream back. 

before the man can say anything 'comforting' back, the younger student stomps off and rips open the library door.

several other kids softly murmur to each other before they get back to work, your eyes moving to seonghwa who hasn't uncrossed his arms. you quietly tell the student you're working with to try the next problem by themselves, walking over to seonghwa and taking the previously occupied seat.

"he's just frustrated," you tell him softly, hoping to ease the obvious tension on seonghwa's face and body. 

you had trouble when you first started too, remember feeling dejected and upset that the kids would get mad, and thinking that you couldn't help them.

his eyes flicker to meet yours but he's quick to look away, seeing the soft compassion and care in them; it always makes him uncomfortable when someone doesn't look at him in disgust or annoyance.

"what do you want from me?"

he misses your face fall ever so slightly, a quiet sigh leaving your mouth as you shrug your shoulders. 

"i just wanna help you, seonghwa," you tell him softly, knowing it's important for both of them to get something out of this. "it might help teaching him in a different way. maybe something he can relate to more."

"and how do you recommend i do that, princess?" he snarls at you, shoving his seat back and stomping towards the exit. 

you notice the head teacher's about to say something when you catch his gaze and shake your head slowly; to your surprise, he lets the boy go with a simple roll of his eyes.

you continue working with your student until 4:30 rolls around, your eyes occasionally moving to the empty table and library door. neither seonghwa nor his student ever came back and it causes a sinking feeling in your stomach.

you wait around for five extra minutes, cleaning the tables and putting your books away before figuring both of the unmotivated boys just ditched. as you're walking out the door to your car, you hear the familiar sound of a basketball bouncing off the gym floor.

so, albeit nosily, you peek your head in and feel your lips quirk up when you see seonghwa's tall frame next to the boy. the two of them are standing a few feet away from the hoop, a rare hint of a smile on the man's face as the both of them move around the floor.

"so this would be a....?" you hear seonghwa ask, the boy immediately responding with "acute angle! and it's less than 90 degrees," who then proceeds to take the ball from him and shoot; in a tragic turn of events, he misses.

seonghwa lets out a playful scoff as he catches the ball with ease.

"used all your brain power for that you can't even get it in, huh?" he teases, throwing the ball with one hand and watching with a cocky smirk as it shoots through.

"you're a showoff," the boy mumbles and you bite your lip so you don't let out a giggle, watching as seonghwa dribbles the ball away from the boy who chases after him. 

you leave the gym as chuckles ring through the air, feeling your heart tug at the fact in all the years you've known seonghwa, you think that’s the first time you've heard him laugh.

you're surprised to see his good mood carries over into the next day. 

sure, he's not being overly happy or nice but he's genuinely helping the student with his work, a focused expression and strong voice as he explains the problems slowly. 

you try to contain your smile, thinking maybe your hope in him isn't misplaced until you decide to tell him he's doing a good job.

"what?"

"you're working well with him," you say softly, turning to wave at the boy when you hear him say goodbye to you both. "he really seems to be getting better."

"yeah," is all he says, tone clipped and short. 

you look over to see his jaw is tight, body defensive and on alert so it's probably in your best interest to not mention you seeing them in the gym yesterday.

"it's hard at first for everyone,” you continue encouragingly. “but then i think once you break that barrier, it's gonna get-"

"why are you talking to me, y/n?"

his short, harsh tone causes your face to fall and for a split second, he feels bad. 

he knows you're just doing what you always do, showing people unwavering decency and kindness, but those are things he, both, can't relate to and finds makes him uncomfortable. 

he doesn’t want you to think just because he helped one kid out that means he's a reformed pupil.

"i just wanted to-"

"well don't," he says, picking up his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. "it's bad enough i have to do this. i don't need you talking down to me also."

"i'm not talking down to you/ it's called encouragement, seonghwa."

"then don't encourage me. just ignore me the way i intend to ignore you." 

you're left alone in the library watching the door slam behind him.

and true to his word, he doesn't look your way or entertain conversation with you for the rest of the week. anytime your eyes meet, he'd quickly advert them and makes sure to be out the door the second the clock strikes 4:30.

and today, as you rush to your car in the pouring rain, you mull over in your head what you could have possibly done to the boy to make him so wary of you. 

time and time again, you've just tried to help him. give him advice and make the whole process easier for him but he just lashes out.

then again, you haven't done anything to the general population at school and they still make fun of you. and it's for the stupidest of things: your 'grandma sweaters' apparently the bane of their existence or the fact that you're studious and care about your schoolwork.

you don't allow their words to get to you, though, because you were taught to always be kind and respect others. that if people are mean to you, it's because they're unhappy about something within themselves.

even so, a part of you has always been intrigued by park seonghwa, whether it be because of his obvious good looks or some feeling deep within you that knows he's not as bad as he portrays himself to be. 

through the rain as you think, you see the drenched boy, hood up and head down, as he walks on the sidewalk.

you don’t even think twice about pulling up next to him, roll down your window and ignore the way he side-eyes you.

"do you want a ride?" you ask him quietly, surprised he's even heard you over the roar of the rain; but he's quick to shake his head silently and continue on his way. 

you let out a sigh before following behind him, asking him one more time because he really is drenched and it's starting to get dark and cold.

"you're gonna get sick," you say to him, causing the boy to stop in his tracks and stare you down.

"and what does that matter to you?"

you only raise your eyebrow at him, reaching over to open the door and smiling softly as an invitation. he rolls his eyes as he huffs, looking down at his drenched sneakers and feeling it seep into his socks.

some part deep within him feels ashamed to accept your kindness after the way he's treated you but he gets in and slams the door anyway. a real stand up guy he is.

"happy?" he grumbles. 

you only smirk as you hum softly, eyes peering down to the seatbelt buckle before going back to the road. you feel his gaze on you as you drive, a loud huff leaving him after you stop at the third stop sign.

"what?" you ask, looking both ways before taking your foot off the break.

"how the hell do you get anywhere," he grunts out in annoyance, feeling around in his pocket for a cigarette and agitated when he finds he doesn't have a pack on him.

"it appears i drive like a grandmother, too," you mumble, a snort leaving his nose as he shakes his head.

a few moments of silence pass before you stop at a red light. 

"i don't get you," he suddenly says, causing you to look over at him.

"what do you mean?"

"you really just... don't care about what other people think of you?"

you can't help but smile at the puzzled expression on his face, shrugging your shoulders as you look at him. 

"no."

his eyebrow raises, something about your soft, small smile causing him to squirm in his seat. 

"why not?"

"because why do they matter?" you ask quietly. "while i can, i'm gonna live the way i want."

a quiet hum leaves the boy's mouth, at the time not realizing how strange that sentence was coming from a teenage girl.

he just couldn't understand how a young person would want to live such a sad, quiet life between the covers of books and walls of church. how someone could go on smiling and being happy when they had no friends to make memories with.

"seems like a sad way to live," is all he finds himself saying, a smirk playing at your lips as your brain quips back with a sassy comment - but because you're you, your mouth doesn't open to respond. 

you simply shrug your shoulders again, looking back at the light just as it turns green.

the rest of the ride is silent as you make your way to seonghwa's, asking him a few times for directions until your car is sitting in front of his house.

"thanks, y/n."

"you're welcome, seonghwa."

he turns to you to see your gaze already on him, his eyes narrowing at you ever so slightly. you send him a small, innocent, almost unsure smile and he feels himself grow less guarded.

"i'll see you monday?" you ask, slightly uncomfortable by the silence as you two just look at each other with uncertainty. 

the boy next to you shakes himself out of his daze, stuttering out "y-yeah.”

he slams your door shut, not hearing your car pull away until he opens the door to his house.

after your tutoring session, you stayed behind at 4:30 to make a study guide for your student and expected to be the only one there - which is why you were surprised to hear footsteps coming your way and even more surprised when you met the familiar dark eyes of-

"seonghwa," you say as you put your pen down on the table. "what're you still doing here?"

"i could ask you the same thing," he says, peeking at the paper before taking the seat across from you.

that's when you knew he was about to ask for something, like a pardon from this 'stupid volunteer work' (as if you have the authority to do that) or to cover for him one day this week so he can go do whatever normal destruction he does on the weekdays.

because in all the years you've known park seonghwa, he has never initiated a conversation with you.

"i'm making a study guide for my student," you tell him. "she's still having a bit of trouble so i'm hoping this will help her."

he nods his head at you, resting his elbows on the table as he watches you write with concentration for a few silent minutes. 

"but i know you don't care about that," you say to him quietly before meeting his intense gaze. "so why are you here?"

he lets out a sigh, running his hand through his hair that seems to be out of nervousness - but in what kind of sick, confused world is a man like him nervous to talk to a girl like you?

"i need your help with something."

your eyebrow raises as you look at him, dropping your pen on the table and the noise echoes through the quiet, empty library.

"is... park seonghwa asking for my help?"

he rolls his eyes before blankly staring at you, the dead look in his eye causing you to giggle softly. 

"what do you need help with?"

your giggle and soft tone relax him ever so slightly, popping his neck to the side and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at his dramatics. 

"i'm- uh, i'm supposed to write a play for my class."

"okay..." you say as you nod your head. "and you need help...writing it? editing it? coming up with ideas?"

his mind starts to swarm with slight panic and uncertainty, completely out of his element and comfort zone. he doesn't know the first thing about writing fucking plays, you couldn't pay him enough money to even sit through one.

"uh...all of it," he says with a wince. "but i know you're like... a theater geek."

you can't help the snort that leaves you, shaking your head as you look at the boy in front of you. 

"a theater geek?"

"not like that," he says, tone desperate and unsure and you can hear how uncomfortable he is asking for help. "i just mean like you're probably...good at that stuff."

"ahh, because i'm a big fat nerd, right?"

his eyes close at the horrific turn this has taken; he can't even ask you for help without insulting you. 

"i didn't mean it like that, y/n."

you watch him for a few moments, hands in his hair as his leg starts to bounce and you decide to finally put him out of his misery. 

“i'm just kidding. i'll help you."

his head snaps up immediately, face once ridden by anxiety and panic full of surprise and relief. "really?!"

"really," you say with a smile. "but i'm only gonna assist you. you have to do most of it, okay?"

"yeah, right, of course," he grunts out, already bored and over this conversation.

"and you have to take it seriously. on the days we do it, you're gonna have to be focused, seonghwa."

"i wouldn't have put myself through this and asked you if i wasn't gonna take it seriously," he grumbles, watching you furrow your eyebrows at him and quickly realizing he's falling into his dick-ish ways before mumbling out an apology. 

"i mean, of course, yeah."

"thank yo-," he says before you cut him off.

"and on one more condition, seonghwa."

he raises his eyebrow at you, nodding his head as he looks at you awaitingly.  he knows it's probably gonna be something stupid like to try his very best or make it from the heart; but the last thing he expects to hear is:

"you have to promise you won't fall in love with me."

everything in him stills as he looks at you, trying to figure out if you're joking with him until he sees how seriously you're looking at him. he almost feels bad at the blatant laugh that bubbles out of him, his hand coming up to (fakely) wipe his mouth.

"uh...yeah, okay, that shouldn't be a problem," he says, humor and amusement heavy in his tone. it doesn't make you feel bad because you just nod your head and shrug your shoulders.

"okay!"

"okay," he says a few seconds later, a small grateful smile on his face. "thank you, y/n."

"you're welcome."

you can't help but smile back because it really seems as if he's trying to better himself now. 

apply himself more and show people that he's more than just some 'cool' guy who gets in trouble. he asked for help and that's the first step in anything required to get better and grow as person.

but sometimes people will ask for help, receive help, and it still won't be enough. 

because just the next day, you see him in the cafeteria with his group of friends. and perhaps it was ballsy of you in the first place to see him and hold his eye contact and greet him with a smile that only led him to divert his gaze.

that should've made it obvious that going over to him was not gonna be a good idea.

but you thought you were seeing a change in him, you were so excited to see him work with the students and take an initiative to do his project, so you walk over and say hi to him.

"hi, seonghwa," you say sweetly, waving at his friends who just look at you with a bewildered expression. "do you wanna start working on your play after tutoring today?"

the second him and his friends let out sarcastic laughs, you know he's about to disappoint you.

"i think you're lost, princess," he says, tone full of venom and spite. "we'd never do anything together."

"unless, of course, you're willing to show him what's under that sweater," his friend next to him says, his eyes roaming over your body and making you back up uncomfortably.

"hongjoong," the tallest one says warningly, like he's probably the only good one within this group.

"oh fuck off yunho, she needs a little fun."

your eyes never leave seonghwa's, the tight, hard look melting slightly since his bickering friends are now distracted. the change in them doesn't make you feel any better, instead nodding your head at him and quietly saying "okay, never mind then. sorry."

the fact that you apologize makes him feel like a piece of shit for the rest of the day, even caused him to lash out at hongjoong for saying that pervy comment to you and then get kicked out of his last class.

which is how he catches you right before tutoring starts at 3:15, grabbing you by the elbow and ushering you into the tiny computer lab against your softly-spoken protests. 

he closes the door behind him and turns to see you staring at him blankly.

"just hear me out, y/n."

"i don't think there's anything to hear out," you tell him softly. "you made it obvious you don't need my help anymore."

you're about to go around him when he grabs your arm again, your body stiffening immediately causing him to let go. 

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't...i shouldn't have done that."

it's like the fact that he knows it was wrong is making it worse. he knew it would hurt you and make him look bad but he did it anyway to prove a point to his friends.

"but you did," you say quietly. "and i know you don't care, seonghwa, but i really thought you were trying to be better."

he lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance; he really knows how to fuck things up.

"i was. i am. that's why i need your help. please y/n."

a group of kids come barreling through, the girl you're working with catching your eye as she takes a seat at the normal table. you meet seonghwa's gaze that's staring down at you, eyes regretful and tense.

you know it's only because now he's not getting something out of you, not because he genuinely cares about you being upset and disappointed.

"the drama teacher is really nice," you tell him softly, sending him a small smile as you tighten your bag around your shoulder. "you could probably sit in with her and get some pointers."

"but i wanted you to-"

he can't even finish his sentence when you move passed him and out the door, his body whirling around to see you wave at the curious younger girl. 

he watches you meet his gaze once more before they flicker back down to the table, your heart sinking every so slightly because you were stupid to think he was capable of changing.

seonghwa was shocked by how much it annoyed him that you were ignoring him. 

that anytime he tried to get your attention, you would just smile dismissively and busy yourself. that you no longer lingered at the end of the day or gave him words of praise and encouragement that used to piss him off so badly.

it, oddly enough, made the next few weeks drag on even longer, his afternoons now an even more dull and dreary experience.

that's why on friday, purely out of selfishness, he ended his session with the boy five minutes early and waited outside the library like some sort of creep; if this was the only way to talk to you, it appeared he was gonna do it.

you open the door to leave, fishing through your backpack for the keys buried at the bottom, and look up just in time so you don't smack right into seonghwa's large frame.

"hi."

you narrow your eyes at him, his body and face lacking its usual confidence and smugness.

"hi."

the two of you just look at one another, your eyes confused and awaiting while his hold a twinge of insecurity and nervousness.

you had been making it a point to steer clear of him these past weeks, dodging him in the hallways and cafeteria when you noticed him and completely avoiding his presence during tutoring.

"are you gonna make me beg?"

your eyebrows shoot up at his lowly spoken words, head turning to the side in confusion. 

"what?"

"i miss your stupid encouragement, okay," he blurts out suddenly. "and i miss talking to you. i want...i want you to help me with my play."

you let out a shaky exhale, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to gauge his mood. he could just be saying all of this to get what he wants and make his life easier.

"what's wrong with the drama teacher?" you ask him. "she's nice. i'll even ask her if you can-”

"she's not you."

you swallow the lump in your throat at his words, panicking slightly at how your heart and stomach just reacted; you should not be so effected by him after the way he's treated you.

"that's kind of the point," you tell him, voice strong despite the way you're shaking inside. "it seems as if that's what you wanted the other week."

he lets out an annoyed huff, taking a few steps closer to you and looking straight at you. 

"that was wrong and i'm sorry, y/n, i am," he says to you, watching your gaze soften as he all but begs you. "but i'm trying here. and i need your help."

you truly take the time to assess him, look him up and down to gauge if he really is trying -  you suppose you won't really be able to tell until you start working with him though. 

and you can't ignore the fact that, no matter how he's treated you or anyone else, he's here and genuine and asking for help again.

a sigh leaves your mouth as you shake your head at him, cursing the fact that's he's not only handsome but persuasive (or at least sly enough to pick the right victims that can't say no to helping people).

the silence that stretches between you two makes him ready to jump out of his skin, not knowing at all what to make of your flickering eyes and blank expression.

he nearly topples over when you mutter out “fine. but all the same conditions still apply, seonghwa. even if you're...embarrassed to be seen with me, we still have to do the work and-"

"i'm not embarrassed," he's quick to clarify, your eyebrow shooting up at his blatant lie. "i'm not," he repeats.

you shake your head at him before taking out your car keys and swirling them around your finger. 

"well, whatever, it doesn't even matter," you tell him quietly. "just get ready to start working next week, okay?"

the boy nods, thanking you one more time and feeling a twinge in his chest when you smile back and send him a little wave. 

he didn't expect to feel so much lighter after the conversation, no longer having a pit in his stomach or hearing that small voice in the back of his head scream at him.

but because he's not completely reformed, he distracts himself with one of the many girls interested in him or with his friends as they smoke and drive around their boring little town.

the boring little town that has an eerie little cemetery just a few blocks from his house.

most days when he walks home, he goes the opposite way because there's something very unsettling to him about death and dying and mourning. he hadn't dealt with any loss in his life properly, going off the rails when his dad left and then again with alcohol and drugs when his grandpa died.

he was actually buried right in that cemetery and for whatever reason that sunday night, something was telling him to pass by and visit.

he turns the corner and catches the sight of your hair, stopping in his tracks to watch as you open the old, iron gate and walk right in the dark cemetery alone.

"what are you doing," he mumbles curiously to himself, his interest fully peaked as he speeds up his footsteps to follow after you.

he watches you weave in and out of the headstones, backpack in one hand and blanket in the other as you stand in front of a tombstone and bow your head to pray.

if anything makes him more uncomfortable than death, it's religion. 

maybe because he's not sure himself what or who he believes in, fascinated by people who can fully put all of their faith in something that has no proof. 

regardless, he waits until you raise your head and lay out your blanket, placing a few books down next to you as you sit criss-cross style in front of the tombstone.

"so this is how you live on the edge huh? sneaking around a cemetery at night."

you jump at the teasing, deep voice, snapping your head to the side and smiling slightly at the sight of seonghwa. 

he's dressed in his usual all black, a sliver chain hanging from his neck and a beanie over his dark hair - devastatingly handsome, per usual.

"no sneaking," you tell him. "but that's you, apparently. i didn't even hear you come in."

he shrugs his shoulders as he sticks his hands in his pockets, eyes curiously taking in his surroundings. you watch him look around the cemetery with slight discomfort, his eyes focused on the back corner where a large oak tree stands.

"so were you actually following me?" you ask him, causing him to rip his gaze and look down at you. "or are you here to see someone?"

a few beats of silence pass before he answers.

"would it be weird to admit i followed you?"

a smile covers your face, teeth in your bottom lip as you try to contain a laugh. 

"not much weirder than me spending my sunday night in a cemetery, i suppose."

a short, deep chuckle leaves his mouth as he rocks on his feet, looking down at his boots so you don't see his own smile forming. 

"guess that's true,” he mutters lowly but you’re able to somehow catch it. he looks up when he hears your hand tapping on the blanket-covered ground. 

"you can sit, if you want."

for whatever reason, he accepts the invitation immediately. he keeps a good distance between the both of you, his butt just hanging off the edge as he can't help but stare at the headstone in front of him.

he wouldn't dare ask about it because how can he just so casually ask which dead relative of yours you're sitting in front of?

"my mom," you say quietly, because it's hard not to know what he's thinking. "she died giving birth to me."

his eyes widen at your confession, a low curse leaving his mouth. 

"shit."

you nod your head, placing your chin on your hand as you look at the death date. 

"yeah. it's always a little weird to see my birthday as the day she died."

seonghwa watches your face as you look at the tombstone, surprised not to see sadness or sorrow but the same look of compassion and pureness that always seems to be on your face. 

and now with the glow of the moon on you, he's realizing that you are kind of pretty. in a unique, natural way but pretty nonetheless.

if he thought he was surprised to be thinking these thoughts at a moment like this, he's even more surprised when he finds himself asking, "why do you come here then?"

the question holds no malice or judgement, just a genuine curiosity that you perhaps understand. while it's fairly common for people to visit their loved ones graves, it’s also something that some get uncomfortable with or don't understand.

"to talk to her, i guess. i think she'd wanna know what's going on in my life."

he mulls over your response in his head, nodding in understatement even though he doesn't really get it.

"what do you talk to her about?" and for the life of him, he can't understand why he's so interested in this. in you, all of the sudden.

you turn to look at him, slightly surprised that he's taking the lead in the conversation and showing an interest. you don’t want him to misconstrue your gaze on him so you quickly look back at the grave as you shrug your shoulders.

"anything really. i tell her about school or my dad's sermons or what i did during the weekend. sometimes i'll just read."

he nods his head again, looking over at the grave and wondering how much this piece of stone has heard about your life.

do you tell it how people treat you at school? how much you volunteer your time to help others and make them better? maybe even how you've been trying to help him but might see him as a lost cause.

he hears the sound of a paper rustling and turns his head to see you, pen in hand, scribbling down something on your book; even though it's nosy and intrusive, he peaks over out of curiosity.

"bucket list?" he asks aloud. 

a smirk pulls at your lips as you nod your head silently, scribbling down a #4 on the page.  "do you have one?" you ask him quietly, meeting his eyes that are boring into the side of your face.

"can't say i do," he hum, "although i definitely have a lot of stuff i wanna do."

"like what?" you ask, trying not to show just how interested you are in finally getting to know something about this elusive boy. it falls flat when you see him lower his head and shrug his shoulders, immediately closing himself back up.

"i don't know," he mumbles, suddenly feeling embarrassed and on the spot.

you let out a small giggle, turning the page and ripping out a piece of paper before handing it to him. he looks down in surprise before taking it from your hands, your fingertips brushing and he can't help but notice how cold your skin is.

"writing it down might help."

you place the pen in between you both, letting the book lie on your lap as you lean back on your hands; his eyes can't help but fall down to peak at the page.

"fall in love, get married, see the ocean," you hear his deep voice read before he sees ".....get a tattoo?!" he asks, voice raising slightly as he looks at you in surprise.

"is that so hard to believe?" you ask, a mock expression of hurt on your face. he chuckles trying to picture you with a sleeve of tattoos, your pastel pink sweater rolled up your arms and showcasing an array of colors.

"kind of, yeah," he laughs out, smiling when your own giggles rings through the cold night air.

"why do you even have one though?" he asks a few moments later, trying to distract himself from the way your giggle just made his heart swell. 

"don't only people who are like..." he cringes as he remembers you are both sitting surrounding by corpses. "don't you only make these when you're gonna die? get news that you have like a year left to live or something?"

and just like in the car that day, he doesn't think about how sadly cryptic your answer is. how odd the dreary words sound coming from the mouth of a high school girl whose only cares should be about prom or college acceptance letters.

"i could only have a year left to live," you tell him softly. "i could even only have a month left. you never really know, do you?"

he can only nod his head, furrowing his eyebrows because while your words ring true. 

"that's pretty fucking morbid, y/n."

a small chuckle leaves your mouth at his profanity, shrugging your shoulders as you turn around to look at him. 

"i guess but it's true though," you say, moving your hands side to side like you're showcasing a house and not a cemetery full of rotting bodies. "after all, look around."

a loud, surprised laugh leaves seonghwa's mouth as he looks at you, shaking his head half in amusement and half in astonishment - he’s never met anyone like you in his life.

"good point," he says, biting down on his lips desperate to quirk up into a large grin.

it's an odd place and time to spend the rest of the night sharing shy smiles and glances but it happens nonetheless.

by the end of the night, you're both convinced of something: you only further confirming your suspicions that this boy is so much more than the person he portrays himself to be and seonghwa thinking that maybe grandma sweaters and bucket lists aren't that bad after all.

the more you talked and spent time with seonghwa, the more you saw how great he was. 

you figured that night at the cemetery was a fluke, that if you ever dared mentioning it or tried to make it happen again he’d laugh in your face or feign confusion. 

so the surprise that ran through you when, at lunch, he plopped down in the seat across from you was truly overwhelming. you had looked side to side in confusion, thinking that maybe his friends all went out or that your budding friendship was all one big practical joke.

but his friends looked just as confused, eyebrows pinched together as they whispered and hit one another.

“your friend’s look confused,” you say quietly. “you should probably go back.” 

but without missing a beat, he just shrugs and takes out a tattered black notebook.

“fuck them.”

your eyes widen at his vulgarity, watching him with a curious, slightly cautious gaze before it softens as he meets your eyes. he holds out his book for you, a shy smile appearing on his face.

“i...wrote some of the beginning last night. do you wanna read it?”

the smile that lights up your face has that familiar twinge in his heart appearing, excitedly nodding as your fingertips brush when you take it. 

“the prologue,” you correct him gently as you read his opening lines. 

“the what?” he asks. 

a little giggle leaves your mouth as you continue to read, missing the way his eyes soften as he looks at you with admiration - but his friends don’t miss it. 

don’t miss the way he chooses to sit with you everyday for the next few weeks, the way your hands brush as you make edits on your paper and the way his eyes never leave you as you read over his corrections. 

“i’m gonna ask you straight up,” mingi asks when he’s over seonghwa’s one night. “what’s going on with you and church girl?”

the boy can only look up from his notebook, shaking out his aching hand as he raises his eyebrow at the boy. 

“what?” 

the taller boy can only roll his eyes, going over to the open window as he lights a cigarette. 

“you like her.”

“mingi...” seonghwa says warningly, not wanting to get into this right now; they’d been giving him shit every chance they got, poking fun at his newfound desire to succeed in school.

“i’m not giving you shit, i just wanna know,” the boy says, “because it seems pretty obvious.”

seonghwa rests his feet on his desk as he looks over at the boy, letting out a sigh when he sees how genuine and indifferent he looks. 

“i might,” he says because it’s a fact he’s been mulling over since that night at the cemetery. 

ever since then, he’s been overwhelmingly eager to see you and please you. 

he keeps wanting to show you time and time again that he’s capable of doing this work and tutoring the kids. keeps wanting to see that happy smile that lights up your face or your soft voice squealing about how good his play is coming along.

“you might,” mingi laughs out, blowing smoke out the window as he shakes his head. “you absolutely do.” 

“i’m gonna push you out that fucking window,” seonghwa grunts, a smirk crossing the boy’s face as he shakes his head.

“that’s not very holy of you,” his friend says, sarcasm and teasing in his tone. “what ever would y/n say if she found out you-” 

mingi’s words are quickly cut off by high-pitched yells as he watches a cup of pencils and pens go hurling towards him. 

and whether it be a twist of fate or just pleasant circumstances, tutoring sessions on one friday afternoon are cancelled for construction in the library. 

the both of you look at one another and somehow know it’s mutually decided that you’re gonna work elsewhere, even though it’s friday and there’s a party going on at his friend san’s house.

“we only have to work for an hour,” you tell him as you guys step outside the school. “i know there’s a party tonight.”

“do you wanna come with me?” he blurts out before he can even stop himself, shocking the both of you. 

the boy would laugh at the terrified, wide-eyed expression on your face if he wasn’t so thrown off by how quickly and impulsively he asked that. 

“i...uh...don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say quietly, eyes trained on the floor shyly. you nearly fall right down when you feel his hand on your jaw, lifting your face so your glossy, nervous eyes meet his.

“nobody would mess with you if i was there,” he says lowly, the protective, confident words causing you to swallow nervously. you only shake your head slightly, the feeling of his hand on your face so foreign and bare-minimum but sending your heart into overdrive. 

“it’s not that, i’m just... i wouldn’t do well there.”

i wouldn’t be allowed.

his eyes search yours for any hint of a lie, that maybe you actually wanna go but fear that stupid girls or guys would make fun of you for whatever idiotic reason they can think of tonight. 

your small smile assures him even further.

“i probably wouldn’t do well there tonight, either then,” he says, your eyebrows furrowing as you look at his eyes shining with certainty. you’re about to ask him to clarify when he removes his hold on your face, taking your smaller hand in his cautiously.

“what are you-”

“you drive here today?” he asks and you can only find it in you to shake your head. 

“we’ll walk to my house then?” 

you stare blankly at him before looking down at your intertwined hands, feeling a blush creep on your face as you’re successfully rendered speechless. 

you hadn’t really know what to expect or feel holding someone’s hand but it definitely wasn’t this feeling of closeness and warmth and excitement. 

when you look up and he sees the pinkness on your cheeks, he can’t help but smile. 

seonghwa looks down at you questioningly, raising his eyebrow and looking at you until you stutter out “ye-yeah that’s..good.” he intertwines your fingers and pulls you along the sidewalk, holding your hand and occasionally looking down at you the entire way to his house. 

he ends up missing the party that night in exchange for writing, editing and playfully rehearsing his lines with you. his chuckle fills the room when you dramatically read his lines, giggles leaving your mouth when he cringes at the fact he wrote some of this dialogue. 

he drove you home after the sun had set, your hands intertwined as they rest on the console. shy gazes and quiet giggles fill the car, your softly spoken “goodnight seonghwa,” ringing through his head for the rest of the night. 

and then much to his dismay, after three months of preparation and work with you, his play was due. 

you had worked together in the library one last time, your encouragement and assurance that he would absolutely get an a filling the boy with an unfamiliar feeling of pride and excitement. 

he had worked hard, you both had worked hard, and he’d never been so excited to hand in an assignment in his life; it all had paid off because he was able to showcase a big, 100% to you in red ink.

“seonghwa!” you squeal, clapping your hands in the empty library and throwing your arms around him without a second thought. “i told you you were gonna do amazing!”

he can’t even think about your words with your arms around him, the feeling of your body against him the final confirmation for him that he 100% absolutely likes you (as mingi so juvenilely put).

you feel his body stiffen and realize what you’ve done, quickly drawing your arms back and flushing as you quietly apologize. 

but just as the words leave, his arms are around you and your head rests on his chest. once you’ve recovered from the shock, you allow your own arms to slowly go back around him, the two of standing in the empty library wrapped in each other’s arms. 

it’s a strangely intimate hug for just a good grade on a paper, your arms tight and hearts pounding as you feeling a buzzing in the air changing everything you’ve worked to build over these past months. 

“do one more thing for me, y/n?” you hear him lowly ask in your ear. 

you meet his gaze nervously, biting your lip as you stare at him with a wide-eyed gaze. “what?” you squeak, your voice barely coming out. 

“let me take you on a date.”

convincing your father to allow you on a date was one thing but convincing your father to allow you on a date with park seonghwa was damn near impossible. 

“dad,” you whine for the twentieth time that day.

“y/n, i’m telling you, i’m not comfortable with this.”

“you’re not even giving him a chance, dad,” you tell him softly at the table, your eyes trained on the clock that reads 6:50. “he’s gonna be here in ten minutes.”

whether your dad approved or not, you were going on this date. 

you had gone your whole life without dating or boys or even having a crush and now you were overwhelming ready to try it out. despite your nervousness and despite the fact you have absolutely no experience, you’re excited.

seonghwa has brought out something in you that was suppressed for so long, that you only read about in books or watched in other couples - now with your shy smiles and intertwined hands under the table at lunch, you’re convinced that he’s your first love. 

“y/n, i’m uncomfortable with this for more than one reason,” he says, sadness and apprehension in his tone; it makes your heart sink a little bit. 

why does he have to bring this up now? why can’t he just let you have one night to be a normal teenager?

“why, dad?” you ask, voice far too even and calm even though you already know where this is headed. he can tell too, because he grabs your hand from across the table and squeezes it apologetically. 

“i’m not trying to upset you,” he says, “i just don’t know if you should start something when...”

“i’m fine though. i feel fine.” 

his face turns into one of shock and confusion, not once hearing you snap at him; that’s when he notices that you look...different. 

a short-sleeved dress over your figure with a hint of blush and mascara on your face. your eyes flickering to the clock and door before back to him and he feels his heart pull in his chest. 

“i know you do,” he says, pulling his hand back and running it through his thinning hair. “you didn’t tell him, did you?”

“of course not,” you quickly get out. “there’s no need to tell him.”

“no need to-” the words die in his throat so he doesn’t start a fight or upset you just minutes before your first date. 

he knows that if you actually accepted to go out with a boy, you have to like him and there has to be some sort of...connection between the two of you. 

“what if this gets more serious?”

a knock at the door causes you both to jump, your neck snapping over to see seonghwa’s handsome face through the window. 

“then we’ll deal with that when it comes,” you tell him, voice serious and hushed. “just... please be nice, okay? he’s important.”

and with that, your dad watches you open the door and greet seonghwa with a smile, ushering him in as you giggle when he says something lowly. you drag him over by the hand, seonghwa and your dad standing only a few inches away from one another a sight you’d truly thought you’d never see.

“hi sir,” seonghwa says, his voice deep but friendly as he outreaches his had. “it’s nice to meet you, i’m-”

“park seonghwa,” the older man finishes, taking the boy’s hand roughly and shaking it before dropping his hold. “i see your mother church every sunday but i can’t say the same for you.”

“dad,” you whisper, face flushing in embarrassment. 

“it’s okay, y/n,” seonghwa says quietly before he looks your dad in the face. “i...probably should go more but-”

“no need to explain yourself to me, i was just saying,” he tells him, watching the way seonghwa’s face falls slightly and you narrow your eyes at him. “where are you guys going tonight?”

“just dinner, like i told you,” you say, voice tight and arm grazing seonghwa in an attempt to bring him comfort; even if he doesn’t need comfort, you need his skin on yours to ground you. 

your dad meets his gaze, causing seonghwa to quickly confirm the plans.

“yeah, just dinner,” he says, comforted by your arm touching his. “i borrowed my mom’s car.”

a quiet hum leaves your dad’s mouth and seonghwa feels the nervous pit in his stomach growing, like he’s judging him for being a possible satanist who still borrows his mommy’s car.  

even if he was thinking that, he smiles warmly at the both of you before reminding him to have you home by ten. 

“will do, sir,” he says, already telling himself to have you home by 9:55 so if anything, he’s at least punctual. you all but drag seonghwa out of the house, waving to your dad and thanking the boy quietly when he opens the car door for you. 

he starts the car and there’s a few moments of silence before he lets out a frustrated sigh. 

“he hates me.”

you let out a soft giggle as you shake your head, tapping his arm playfully. 

“he doesn’t, he’s just...protective.” 

seonghwa only looks at you, completely unconvinced if the blank stare he’s giving you is any indication. 

“okay, maybe a little,” you agree softly, the boy rolling his eyes away from you despite the smile on his face. 

you watch him drive and admire his sharp features, wondering how and why on earth this boy asked you on a date in the first place. he turns to look at you when the light turns red, his eyebrow quirked up when he sees you’re staring at him. 

“what?”

“nothing,” you say, shaking your head before you shyly say. “i just can’t believe you asked me on a date.”

he bites his lip to hide his smile, taking his hand off the wheel and taking your hand in his. 

“you look pretty,” he says suddenly, causing you to sharply inhale and nearly choke on air. 

you never imagined someone other than a family member or elderly woman at church calling you pretty, completely thrown off and unsure how to respond. the pinkness creeping up on your cheeks is a dead give away that it’s effecting you, his eyes roaming over your face as his smile finally breaks through.

“really pretty.”

and so you don’t completely go mute and dumb, you tease “it’s just because i’m not in a grandma sweater.” 

he only rolls his eyes and taps you on the nose. “i’ve come to really like those grandma sweaters.”

a quiet giggle leaves your mouth and he can only smirk as he looks back at the road. 

the light turns green and your heart flutters ever so slightly when instead of disconnecting your hands, he brings it to his lips to press a soft, sweet kiss.

your hands don’t disconnect when he pulls up to the restaurant nor when you walk in and wait to be seated. 

you look around at the other couples in the area and that’s when it hits you that you’re one of them. that right now, you’re on your first date and have absolutely no idea what you’re doing. 

“what’re you looking at?” he quietly hums in your ear, watching you look around at the other young couples embraced in a handhold or back hug. 

“nothing,” you say quietly before looking up at him. “i just... i’ve never been on a date before.”

his lips press against your head and you hear him laugh against it, your eyebrows furrowing as you smack his stomach lightly. 

“stop laughing,” you whine.

“but you’re cute,” he hums lowly. 

he hears you let out a sigh and disconnects his lips from your head, taking your cheeks in his hands and ignoring the way your eyes widen at the contact.

“just take a breath for me, okay?” he says lowly, staring down at your wide-eyed gaze and feeling such an overwhelming desire to kiss you. “it’ll be fine. there’s nothing to worry about.”

“but i don’t kn-”

“seonghwa, table for two,” a female voice interrupts. his eyes widen teasingly as a quiet gasp leaves his mouth. “let’s go, baby.”

and, of course, he was right. 

it was fine. 

the second you sat down and looked over the menus, you fell into a natural and teasing conversation that carried on for the rest of the date. everything was always light-hearted and fun, never delving into serious topics or issues. 

he paid the bill after eyeing you the second you pulled out your wallet, a blush crossing your face as you quietly mumble out your gratitude. he took your hand in his, you shyly looking down and watching your fingers intertwine as he leads you through the parking lot.

“where are we going now?” 

you look up at him and see him watching you with a small smirk, probably from the permanent blush on your face, and relishing in the fact that he’s the one that put it there. 

"you’ll see.”

the two of you walk hand-in-hand across the street, tiny squeals leaving your mouth as seonghwa abandons the crosswalk signs and runs straight across. low chuckles leave his mouth as he tightens his hold on your hand, dragging you in front of him and shaking his head.

“you think i’m gonna let you get hit by a car?”

“i just don’t know why you couldn’t wait,” you say, amusement in your voice. “do you have to always prove you’re just such cool rule-breaker?” 

his eyes widen at your uncharacteristic snark, a smirk playing at his lips that only makes your small, smug smile grow wider. 

“rule-breaker, huh?” he hums. “is that what you really think of me? i got a 100 on my play, you know.”

a laugh bubbles out of your mouth as you roll your eyes playfully, your heart soaring because you just know how proud he actually is of that. something about it is so cute, that he now knows he’s capable of succeeding and doing well.

“oh right, i’m sorry,” you tease, looking up at him to admire his smiling face in the setting sun. you don’t know if it’s just because you hadn’t known him well or only saw him in bad situations but you never noticed just how sweet his smile is. 

you see the exact moment something in his eyes change, your gaze following his before you let out at tiny gasp.

to all the places this boy could’ve taken you, like some sort of underground ring or a crazy house party, you’re both standing in front of-

“a playground?” you squeal, trying to contain the childlike excitement building in you. 

“yeah, is that stupid?” he asks, an unsure smile on his face as he looks down to gauge your reaction. he watches your eyes traveling from the swings and slides, feet wiggling beneath you and feels his heart soften even more. 

your neck then snaps up to look at him, a shy smile on your face as you quickly shake your head. 

“not at all,” you say, tightening your hold on his hand. “i just wouldn’t expect that from you.”

“and why’s that?” he asks, dipping his head ever so slightly as his words fan over your ear. “it’s against the rules to go into a playground at sunset.”

your eyes widen when you look up at, a tiny scoff leaving your mouth. but before you can get the words out to chastise him, he pulls you towards the fence that is short and easy enough for you both to climb over.

“are you sure you’re okay?” seonghwa asks, bent down with his hands on your knees, watching you breathe heavily as you sit on the swing.

the two of you had run around the playground like children, racing down the slide and then chasing after each other when one of you lost. 

you squealed as he caught you around the waist, his hands digging into your hips and nearly making your heart explode. he was always quick to loosen his hold and take his hands off of you afterward, demanding a rematch as you watch him run up the steps. 

“yeah, i’m fine,” you say, leaning your head against the cold chain and flooding with relief. “just out of shape.”

a scoff leaves seonghwa’s mouth as he watches you carefully; you don’t look out of shape. 

“i’m fine, seonghwa,” you whine, feeling his gaze still on you. he only narrows his eyes, rubbing your exposed skin before standing up and plopping down on the swing next to you. 

the two of you swing in a comfortable silence for a few moments, admiring the dark sky and singing cicadas. head still on the chain, you turn yourself to look over at him and he must feel your gaze because he does the same, eyes roaming over you because he doesn’t like how lethargic you’ve become.

“thank you for asking me on this date,” your soft voice says suddenly. “i...i had a lot of fun.” 

he watches your cheeks warm with a smile, holding his hand out for you to grab again. 

you take it immediately, his eyebrows furrowing at how small and bony it feels in your hand - have you always been this small?

he pushes down the thoughts because he doesn’t wanna ruin this moment, be distracted from the soft smile on your lips and the pink on your cheeks.

“yeah?” he hums. “i felt some pressure, being that it was your first and all.”

a quiet giggle leaves your mouth as you shake your head. 

“well it was perfect so good job,” you say, “another 100.”

he snorts at your nerdy comment, turning his face away to hide his smile and look at the rest of the playground. 

he hadn’t come to this playground in years, remembering it so vividly from his childhood. how it seemed so big and scary, like some sort of deathtrap that he could only handle because he had someone next to him.

“i used to come here a lot, you know.”

“oh yeah?” you ask, voice happy and light as you picture a young, exuberant seonghwa. 

“mhm,” he hums, a lump suddenly in his throat as if it’s begging him not to say his next few words. some part of him wants to tell you, break down some unfamiliar, vulnerable side of him in an effort to show he really is trying for you. 

and what better way to do that than woefully spilling about his absent father? 

but then when he finally says, “i used to come here with my dad,” he wishes he hadn’t. it’s embarrassing and kind of humiliating to talk about these types of things with a person you’re starting to-

“that’s sweet,” you tell him softly, smiling over at him warmly. “he sounds like a good dad.”

“he left us a few years after.”

your body stills and veins run cold when those words leave his mouth, your heart tugging in your chest at the sad, short way he says it. 

“oh.”

an awkward chuckle leaves his mouth as your surprised response, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously in fear that he just ruined the vibe between you both. before he can try to backtrack, however the hell one could backtrack something like that, he feels your hand squeeze his. 

“i’m sorry.”

he looks over at your soft, sympathetic gaze and smiles sadly, feeling the overwhelmingly need to cup your cheek and brush over your soft skin.

“not your fault,” he says. 

you move further into his touch, swallowing at the way his eyes roam over your face.

“well, it’s not yours either,” you squeak out, unsure of what exactly to say to comfort him but wanting to so bad. 

because sometime within these months, you’ve discovered what a kind, sensitive person he actually is. how all of his troublesome behaviors and bullshit was just covering up for the fact he was sad and frustrated and maybe a little lonely.

he lets out a scoff, that overwhelming urge to kiss you coming back with a vengeance.

“where were you years ago,” he laughs out, thinking back to his middle school self creeping through the schoolyard and etching his rage onto the brick of the school. 

because for some reason, the boy had convinced himself it was all his fault.

that his dad had gotten tired of his bad grades and snarky backtalk and the fact that he never listened to him. it took him up until a few years ago, when the sadness turned to anger, that he knew his dad left purely due to the fact that he was just an asshole.

you smile sadly watching him stare blankly, knowing his mind is probably going to all sorts of sad places. to a time in his life where he blamed himself and didn't know how to properly cope. 

if you had known, you would've done what you did now. offer him your support and friendship and let him know someone will be there for him.

"i'm here now though," you remind him quietly, moving the swing back and forth, in sync with the way your thumb starts gently brushing over his hand. 

it's like he needed that touch to bring him back to reality, his blank eyes turning to look at you and wonder if you're even real.

the way he's looking at you causes you to nervously fidget, the intense softness of his gaze making your stomach and heart go into frenzy. so much so that you shyly look away, focusing on the way your hand always looks so small in his.

you feel him bring his swing closer to yours, holding himself right beside you and lifting your chin gently. his gaze immediately falls to your lips and you let out a shaky, nervous exhale, your eyes darting across his face because you've definitely read about this before.

the buzzing energy before a kiss, the way someone's eyes lower and tongues dart out to lick at their lips.

"i wanna kiss you," you hear him mumble, his eyes moving to yours and his heart dropping when he sees your wide-eyed gaze. he also sees a hint of curiosity though, a hint of the same desire and need in yours.

you swallow again, your own eyes falling to his lips before back up to him. 

"i... might be bad at it,” you whisper, voice caught in your throat.

if your statement didn't make his heart hurt in the best way possible, your eyes proved to be the bigger weakness. proved to make a smile spread across his face, a short chuckle leaving his mouth as he shakes his head at you.

"that's not possible," he hums, his gaze boring right into you, like he's waiting for any sort of permission. 

after you let out another shaky exhale and close your eyes, you feel his lips press lightly against yours.

and while it's a careful, slow kiss, it doesn't take away from the fact that it's perfect. 

that it makes your insides warm and flutter and brings an immediate blush to your face. that after a few moments, he pulls away and rests his forehead on yours and makes you feel like that was the nicest thing to ever happen to you.

you take a few calming breaths before opening your eyes, dropping them shyly when you see him looking right at you.

"see," he mumbles, placing a kiss on your cheek, and then the other, before a finishing one on the tip of your nose. "not possible."

a flustered, girlish giggle leaves your mouth that he can't help but also laugh at, rising from his spot on the swing before standing in front of you with his hand outreached.

"what?"

his lips turned into a frown before he kneels down in front of you again, placing his hands on your bony knees. 

"as much as i don't wanna leave you right now, i gotta get you home."

true to his word, he gets you home five minutes before ten, silently hoping your dad notices and logs in it the back of his mind where his lack of church attendance is also stored.

because even though he sleeps in on sundays and kissed his daughter two more times, he's really hoping he'll be okay when he comes to pick you for date number two next week.

date number two turned into date number six and then over the next few months, you both had started to lose count.

if you weren't together at your house, doing homework and midterm projects in the living room, you were at the cemetery or playground. 

leaned back against his chest on a blanket, his arms wrapped around your waist as he hums quietly against your head. his hands grazing the small of your back as he pushes you on the swing and watches you tip your head back in the air.

tonight's date, however, was a surprise. 

he had told you on monday to clear your schedule for saturday, silencing you with a peck of the lips any time you pressed him further. your constant questioning served to be of no use because even in the car on your way to the surprise, he wouldn't budge.

if anything, he made it worse by then whipping out a blindfold and securing it around your face at a red light.

"do you trust me?" he had asked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. you only let out a sigh, lips turning into a pout because "of course i do." 

that right there sealed your fate for being completely blind for the next twenty minutes.

you feel the the car suddenly stop, the scent of salt hitting your nose through the open window and making your eyebrows furrow together; you had never smelt anything like this before.

"i'm gonna get out and open your door, okay?" he tells you, the sound of his door shutting quickly followed by yours opening. 

you reach out your hand for him to grab, a foreign softness under your sneakers when you step out. he guides you for a few minutes with your blindfold still on, letting out huffs and grumbles every now and then that were silenced by his laughter.

and then when you hear what sounds like crashing water and the loud chirp of a seagulls, you hear his voice from behind you tell you take it off. 

a gasp leaves your mouth that lights up his entire face.

"number three, see the-"

"ocean!" you squeal, turning around to throw your arms around him gratefully. his laugh is muffled against your head, lips pressing a kiss on top on your hair.

"thank you, seonghwa," you say, tightening your arms around him as you press your chin into chest, looking up at him with a bright, excited smile. he can only find it in himself to smile back, take your face in his hands and place another full kiss on your lips.

luckily, your kissing has gotten a lot better with practice. 

pressing up on the tips of your toes to deepen it, your mouths gliding and parting as a breeze from the ocean hits both of you. when you pull apart, his eyebrow raises mischievously, both at your new found boldness and the prospect of exploring the ocean, so he takes your hand in his.

"you're welcome, baby. now let's go."

he pulls you toward the water as your giggles ring through the salty air, squealing when you feel the freezing water on your bare feet and jumping in seonghwa's arms when a big wave splashes up and hits your leg.

he completely uses that to his advantage, tightening his hold on you and running further out into the ocean. he doesn't care that his pants get soaked and his feet go numb, because your loud laugh and squeals of his name have come to be his favorite sound.

you eventually jump down and deal with the consequences that are freezing bones and a wet dress, running away and splashing through the ocean before he catches you by the waist and twirls you around.

but then he notices that concerning, lethargic wave hit you when you grab onto his arm, something he’s been noticing more and more of these past few weeks together. 

he quickly ushers you out of the ocean, guiding you onto the towel that he laid out as he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

"what happened?" he asked, voice full of concern. "are you okay?"

you insist the you're fine. that the waves of the ocean were rough and that you're not used to it. 

you push him down when he asks again if you're okay, allowing your head to rest on his chest and watching the waves crash onto the shore as the sun sets below the horizon.

"i can't believe you took me to the see the ocean," you mumble against his chest, still in disbelief that this is the same seonghwa you've known your whole life. 

the same seonghwa who constantly wore a pissed off expression, punched anyone who looked at him funny and yelled at you during tutoring.

"i like to see you happy," he says, his words genuine, without a single hesitation which makes you burrow your head and smile into his wet shirt. "which is why i have another plan for us."

you perk up at this words, lifting your body and sitting cross-legged beside him. "another surprise?" you squeak excitedly, reminding him of a child on christmas day.

"yup, another surprise for my girl," he says teasingly, sitting up to peck your cheek. "and if you say yes, you'll be my tattooed girl."

he has to keep his poker face on but it proves to be a challenge with the way your face drops, eyes wide and skin paling as you stare at him blankly. "wh-what?"

"yeah, i figured we'd just cover number four too," he says sweetly, faking it just a little bit to sell his point. "so i looked up tattoo shops around here and-"

"what?!" you squeal out again, feeling panic start to creep in your veins. "seonghwa! i-i can't actually-"

"but why not, baby?" he asks, the smirk tugging at his lips uncontrollable. "it's on the bucket list."

"okay, yeah, but you don't have to do everything on it."

his eyes narrow at you, tapping you on the nose that you naturally scrunch. 

"i think you do when there's only four things on it." 

your eyes remain wide and panic-stricken, staring at him mouth agape like he's grown five heads.

"seonghwa," you manage to get out, "you have to be- you're joking, right? you have to be joking. i can't go home to my dad with a freakin'-"

your words halt when you watch him throw his head back in laughter, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he pulls you into him. 

"of course i'm joking, baby. do you really think i'd bring you home with a freakin' tattoo?"

heat rushes to your cheeks as you push him over, slapping his chest playfully and yelling at him for being so mean and scaring you. he's quick to push you onto your back, holding himself above you and peppering kisses over your face and cheeks as an apology.

"that's why i got these," he says after he pulls back, fishing in the back pocket of his jeans and pulling out five white cards. your eyebrows pull together in confusion, lifting yourself up and gasping when you see an array of temporary tattoos.

"these are perfect!" you squeal, taking them in your hand and examining each of them as if they're not gonna fall off by the time you get home; after careful consideration, you pick out a purple butterfly.

"i want this one. you pick now," you tell him with a smile, laughing when he goes with the identical butterfly in pink. the both of you run to the ocean, securing your tattoos in matching spots with cold salt water.

"this is so nice, imagine i really got one," you say, twisting your wrist as you hold your arm out in front of you. you look over to see him watching you softly, feeling a blush creep up on your face.

"what?" you say, shy embarrassment suddenly in your tone.

"nothing," he says causing you to shrug and look back at your tattoo.

his brain screams at him that he has to tell you, that this night can't end without him telling you and that it’s most definitely not nothing.

ten minutes later, with your head resting against his chest watching the steady ocean waves gain, he quietly says your name. 

you hum questioningly against his chest, feeling your eyes grow heavy at the tranquility of... everything. of his presence and the ocean and the way your life just seems so-

"i love you."

and just like that, all the tranquility is gone.

you rip your head away from his chest, eyes darting to his to see such raw vulnerability and love shining in his eyes. you can't control the way your own widen, the way your heart and stomach twist and turn into knots and make you feel even more nauseous than usual.

because he can't love you. he can't. 

something could happen at anytime and take you away from him and then what's gonna happen? you can't be responsible for hurting him and making him feel sad, even if you're-

"now would be a good time to say something," he says lowly, feeling his heart sink at the evident panic on your face.

but then he starts to panic when he sees your eyes fill with tears, backing away from him slightly as you shake your head at him.

“y/n?” he asks, holding his hands out as he walks closer to you, proving he’s not a threat to you.

"and on one more condition, seonghwa."

he raises his eyebrow at you, nodding his head as he looks at you awaitingly. because he knows it's probably gonna be something stupid like to try his very best or make it from the heart. but the last thing he expects to hear is:

"you have to promise you won't fall in love with me."

"uh...yeah, okay, that shouldn't be a problem."

"i.. i told you not to fall in love with me."

his heart sinks at the flashback, watching tears stream down your face and not being able to help the way he reaches out and takes you in his arms. he thinks you're probably just scared and vulnerable, not used to the feeling of loving someone and giving another person your entire self.

but neither is he.

and that's why, with his lips against your head, he tells you not to be scared.

 that he'll wait until you're ready to say it back and that you'll learn to do this together. 

he thinks it must calm you down a little because your arms wrap around his waist and you burrow your face in his damp shirt, muffling your cries and sobs against his shirt.

but your cries and sobs only continue later the night, putting on a strong front for the car ride home. 

seonghwa kept his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and occasionally bringing them up to his mouth to kiss; every time he did it, you looked over and smiled at him and tried to show through your eyes how much you loved him back.

but then the second you got home and your dad saw your face, he knew.

"did he tell you?" he asked gently, his heart breaking at the sight of your red cheeks and teary eyes. 

he watched park seonghwa fall in love with his daughter before his very eyes, the more evident it came the more awful he felt in his gut about it.

you can't even talk without sounding broken so you only nod your head, nearly collapsing onto the couch and hiding your face in your hands.

"you knew this was gonna happen," your dad says, not wanting to say i told you so but knowing from the start how reckless and tragic this was gonna be. "you have to tell him. be fair to him, y/n."

but nothing's fair. 

nothing about any of this is fair and you should've known life was getting too good. that you should've been expecting what tragic events were about to come.

“let’s take our bets now,” san says from his table at lunch. “is he gonna sit with her today?”

“when was the last time he sat with us?” yeosang grumbles, looking around the boy’s faces that hold a mix of anger and hurt. “he’s definitely not.”

they hadn’t seen much of seonghwa at all, really. 

missing him by the time they all gathered in front of the school after the final bell or going to his house on the weekends just for his mom to inform them he’s already out. 

and while most of them didn’t care, the older boy with hard eyes and a ticking jaw has been taking the ‘betrayal’ the worst.

“who knew he’d become such a little bitch,” hongjoong snarls. “and for her, nonetheless.”

mingi and yunho share a look, the two of them kind of caught in the middle; they’re best friends with hongjoong, have been by his side since elementary school and don’t intend on breaking that alliance. 

but they’re also close with seonghwa and see how different he is now. 

how much happier he seems because you’re in his life. they had even met you briefly after school and while you were a bit shy, there was something genuine and warm about your smile that they instantly liked. 

“she’s good for him, i think,” yunho dares to say, hongjoong’s narrowed eyes snapping to him. 

“how could she be?” the boy snarls, embarrassed that anyone he associated with could be connected to the snobby, holier than tho type like you. “i bet she doesn’t even put out.”

“i bet it’s not about that,” mingi says quietly, stiffening ever so slightly when he notices both of you come through the door. 

and like seonghwa always does, he sends them a nod of his head before sitting down across from you. your bumping arms and loving smiles make it obvious to everyone what’s going on between you two. 

hongjoong can only watch for so long seonghwa be a ‘lovesick bitch’ towards you. rolling his eyes when he watches him fawn over you, getting your food and drinks and not allowing you to lift a finger. 

(he doesn’t know it’s because seonghwa’s getting more and more concerned about how fatigued you’re growing throughout the day, something in his gut telling him it’s way more than you forgetting to drink water or not getting enough sleep as your excuses say). 

when he watches his friend tuck your hand behind your ear lovingly, a move they both would’ve laughed at before seonghwa lost his balls, he decides it’s time to get his friend back.

“what’re you doing?” he hears his friends ask from behind him but he only waves them off, stomping towards the table and rolling his eyes when you meet his gaze first. 

“seonghwa,” hongjoong says, annoyance already in his tone. the boy looks up and he stiffens, immediately recognizing the look in his friend’s eye.

“hey,” he says, voice tight and cautious. 

do not fuck with her.

“are you done with this shit or what?” 

the anger bite in the boy’s words has your head dropping immediately, eyes focusing on your lap as you try to properly prepare yourself for the worst case scenario.

that’s exactly what happens the second seonghwa asks “what are you talking about?” because it’s like hongjoong goes off the rail, scoffing as he looks at his friend. 

“you’re kidding, right? you haven’t sat with us in months. we haven’t even hung out.”

“i’ve been busy...” seonghwa says but it sounds more like a question, completely thrown off by his friends odd behavior - what is even getting so mad about?

“with what? your girlfriend?” the last word twinged with disgust.

seonghwa’s eyes travel to you and the second he sees how uncomfortable you are, he stands up and towers over hongjoong.

“we can talk about this later.”

“no, i think we should talk about it now,” hongjoong says condescendingly, everything about his tone and stance making seonghwa’s fists clench. because he can tell it’s making you more and more uneasy. 

“what the fuck is your problem?” seonghwa asks lowly, pushing his friend back. 

“my fucking problem is you dropped all of us the second this bitch came along.”

the first time you brokenly get out “stop,” is when seonghwa’s immediate reaction is to grab hongjoong by the collar of his shirt, the low mumble of student’s voices when they see the first inkling of a fight. 

“don’t call her that.”

a sadistic smirk crosses hongjoong’s face as he stares into seonghwa’s dark, blazing eyes, seeing just how quickly he’s about to lose his control. the boy’s eyes then flicker to you, looking at them fearfully.

“let me tell you, y/n. your pussy must be something, i-”

seonghwa lands a punch on the boy’s face before hongjoong’s back is slammed against the wall, a hand around his throat as his eyes blaze down at him. 

"you better shut the fuck up.”

“why?” hongjoong laughs out despite the crushing weight on his windpipe. “you mean we’re not gonna share? i think we’re all very curi-

you hear yourself begging seonghwa to stop when he drops hongjoong to the ground, giving him a few forceful kicks in the stomach before the rest of the boys jump up. 

they grab the back of seonghwa’s shirt as you join them, trying to block out the way hongjoong and him are screaming and cursing back and forth despite the pounding in your head.

whether it be from the chaos of fighting or you’re already weakened, fatigued state, your vision blurs and your brain feels foggy before you whisper out seonghwa’s name. 

you feel an unfamiliar pair of strong arms around you before passing out and your world turns black. 

yunho carries you out to his car, mingi attempting to calm down seonghwa who hasn’t stopped calling your name frantically, cursing hongjoong and saying how this is all his fault. 

the two boys are quick to ground him, tell him that that’s not what’s important right now and instead deciding where to bring you. 

seonghwa rakes his fingers through your hair, your head lolled in his lap and he feels sick looking at how pale and sunken your face looks. 

“baby, what happened to you,” he mumbles out, his long finger coming out to trail over your cheek.

the second yunho pulls up to your house, seonghwa picks you up bridal style and rushes to your front door. your dad catches the sight through the window and nearly collapses in fear. 

“what the hell happened?” the older man asks frantically, terrified and haunted by how you look lifeless in the boy’s arms. 

“she passed out at school,” seonghwa grunts out, mingi and yunho awkwardly standing in the doorway watching him barrel through your house and rest you on the couch. 

he kneels down and runs his fingers through your hair again, the lump in his throat making it nearly impossible to speak. 

“i-i don’t know happened. she said she was feeling tired but-”

“you have to go.”

his head snaps up at your dad’s words, the man watching him with hard eyes and a pale face. seonghwa can only squint his eyes at him, shaking his head as you takes your hand in his.

“with all due respect, sir, there’s no way i’m-”

“you are,” he says, his voice hard and firm and such a contrast to the peaceful way he speaks in church. “you shouldn’t even be with her.”

the statement takes seonghwa back, his eyebrow raising as he squeezes your hand before standing up. 

“what?” the boy asks, making his way over to your dad. “why?”

“seonghwa, maybe we should just-”

“no,” seonghwa growls, his head snapping to the doorway before back at the older man. “why shouldn’t i be with her?”

the pain and worry in seonghwa’s eyes is overwhelmingly obvious, the love and care he has for you completely genuine and real, but right now that’s not your dad’s concern. 

if you were a normal, healthy teenager, he knows the boy in front of him would be perfect. 

but you’re not normal or heathy and adding another person into this mix of hurt and worry and pain is something he just can’t do, even with the fact in mind that you love him and he loves you. 

he knows it’s not his call to make and he’s being incredibly selfish but he does what he thinks is best at the time.

“because she’s too good for you. she deserves more and it’s selfish of you to think otherwise.”

the room, the house, the entire world seems dead silent after those words leave his mouth, seonghwa not only taken back and pained by the fact he said it but because it rings slightly true. 

he’s known since this started that you were too good for him and he didn’t deserve you. he’s been trying to prove himself worthy by treating you well, listening to all your dad’s rules and just being patient and loving you.

“i...even though that’s true-” seonghwa begins to say but the older man takes a step closer to him, his face full of anger and frustration as he tells him once more to leave. 

that’s when mingi comes in and grabs seonghwa by the arm, the boy fighting against his friend’s hold as his eyes move back to your unconscious body.

“mingi, fucking stop,” he screams, fighting against his friend’s hold and feeling himself grow more and more anxious the further he gets from your house. 

the hold on him doesn’t loosen until he’s put into the car, the two boys jumping in front and turning to see him bouncing his knee nervously. 

“how am i not supposed to be there,” seonghwa says as he looks at your house. “she’s gonna wake up and i’m not gonna be-”

“she’ll be fine,” yunho says gently, mingi nodding in agreement before adding on that your dad is there and everything will be fine. that you just need to rest and that you can talk tomorrow.

when seonghwa visits your house, both, saturday and sunday morning, your dad turns him away. 

tells him you’re too sick and can’t be around people right now. even when he pleas for just five minutes, just to talk to you and see with his own eyes that you’re okay, he still says no. 

it’s not until the man slams the door in seonghwa’s face that he lets his hard exterior down, his body deflating and eyes stinging because he hates that he has to do this. hates watching you sit on the couch not meeting his gaze.

“y/n, i’m doing this for-”

“don’t say it,” you snap. “i’m going to school tomorrow and i’m telling him.”

your dad lets out a sigh, sitting down next to you on the couch and running his hands over his face. “the doctor said...”

“one day isn’t gonna kill me,” you say, “i’m already dying.” 

your dad’s face falld before he quietly mumbles out his approval and goes into the kitchen, both of you crying separately, pretending like the both of you aren’t doing so, and wondering why this had to happen.

the tears just follow into monday, holding them back all day when seonghwa catches you before first period and takes you in his arms. 

“you scared me so much,” he mumbled against your head, his tight hold on you nearly crushing you but you don’t care; you both need this and you’ll only need it more later. 

later being when the library cleared out after tutoring. 

seonghwa noticed you purposely lingering by wiping down the tables and slowly putting your things away. he didn’t say anything, instead choosing to lean against the wall and admire you moving slowly around the room.

the room where you guys got to know each other. 

where you went from strangers to friends and watched each other grow. 

where he remembers being so defensive and wary of you because he couldn’t believe someone like you actually existed. 

you feel his eyes on you and smile at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“what?” 

but he only shakes his head, holding his arms out in front of him and causing you to roll your eyes; who would’ve guessed that the man with every full intention of ignoring you would grow to be the clingiest boyfriend known to man?

not that you’re complaining. 

you’re quick to make your way over and wrap your arms around him, your head resting against his chest and his hold on you tight and warm.

“are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, not being able to shake the feeling that something’s wrong with you. 

your stomach plummets when you realize the conversation is about to happen, that nothing is stopping it and now you’re here finally about to tell him.

“i’m okay,” you say, standing on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his cheek. his smile quickly falls, however, when you add on. “but there is something i need to tell you.”

his eyebrows furrow at the seriousness in your tone, taking one look in your already glossy eyes and seeing something is seriously wrong. as nervousness floods through him, he takes you by the hand and leads you over so you both can sit down.

“what?” 

his panic starts to increase more and more as the silence between you stretches, your tongue licking at your dry, chapped lips and your pale skin nearly translucent. 

every time you try to get the words out, he sees you close your mouth and eyes well with tears.

“you’re freaking me out, baby,” he says, squeezing your hand before taking the other. “please, just tell me.”

“i’m...i’m sick,” you eventually get out, swallowing the lump in your throat because you know that’s not good enough. you know that when his eyes narrow and he says he knows, that your dad told him yesterday, you just have to say it.

your first set of tears and sobs finally come, your face falling into your hands as you shake your head over and over. he thinks that scares him more than anything, watching how fast you break down and sob out apologies, barely able to acknowledge his arms around you.

“y/n, what? what is happening? please tell me.” 

you pull back and wipe the wetness off your face, lip trembling and voice shaky when you’re finally able to gather the strength. 

“i have leukemia.”

the words don’t sink in at first, his heart reacting but brain convincing him that, no, that’s not what you could’ve said. there’s no way you could have cancer. 

“no,” he says, shaking his head as a humorless laugh leaves his mouth. “you’re- you’re perfect, you can’t-”

“i was diagnosed two years and i’ve stopped responding to treatments.”

you watch through tears and a breaking heart as his head falls into his hands now, breathing in and out like he’s trying to prevent himself from having a complete panic attack. 

there’s no way you could have cancer. there’s no way you could have cancer and be dying when you’re a perfect high school student. there’s no way you would’ve kept something like this from him.

“and you... you’re just deciding to tell me this?” he asks, his head snapping up so you can finally see the tears in his eyes. “why the fu...why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“i didn’t want you to feel weird or be different around me,” you whisper out quietly, “i was just gonna try to go on with my life and be normal and then just... die quietly or-”

he shoots up from his seat, the clattering of the chair falling back causing you to jump. you watch him pace around the room like he’s unhinged, his hands pulling at his hair as he shakes his head.

“die quietly,” he snarls out, his jaw ticking and tight and he wants so badly to punch something. “die quietly. what the fuck does that even mean?” 

you can only cry quietly watching him pace and digest the news, your head hanging low as the salty tears seep onto your lips. he’s walks over to you and kneels down, his hands on your knees as he looks up at you with teary eyes. 

“please tell me this a joke,” he says, his voice wavering and wet and broken. “please tell me you’re not...”

you can’t tell him that, so you don’t say a word. 

and it’s like that’s all the confirmation he needs to know his girlfriend, the first person he’s learned to love and the first person to ever see something in him, is dying.

he completely falls apart in your lap after that, cries wracking his body as your hands run through his hair. it’s the first time in two years you’ve ever felt scared to die. 

your condition worsens over the next few days, landing you in the hospital and seonghwa in a depression. he doesn’t leave his couch or eat for three days, his mom softly cooing and begging to tell her what happened. 

but it’s like he’s lifeless, his eyes void of anything but sadness, and it’s a sight that his mom can’t stand to look at any longer. 

she had noticed the change in her son immediately, used to his usual teen angst but quickly realizing this was so much more than that. 

she called out of work and sat down next to him, not saying a word but just stroking his hair the way she did when he was a child. 

she didn’t press him about anything, didn’t ask if something had happened with the lovely girl he had brought home weeks ago or if he wanted to talk about anything.

after an hour of just sitting with him in silence, he finally had the strength to say it aloud.

“my girlfriend... she has leukemia and she’s dying, mom,” he said, so straight-forward and matter of facty, like he’s not able to grasp that he’s talking about you. 

the woman feels her heart break for a moment, her eyes swarming with tears as she wraps him in a hug. 

“i don’t know what i’m gonna do,” he says once he’s able to speak again. “i... what am i gonna do without her? i love her.”

“i know you do,” she says gently, her heart truly aching for the both of you right now. “but she’s still here, seonghwa.”

the boy can only look at his mom watching him with her soft gaze, knowing his own face is a red, tear-stained mess. 

“what?” is all he manages to cough out.

“you should be with her right now, while you still can,” she says, not wanting to upset her son further but knowing he needs to hear this. “enjoy the time you have and make what she has left worth it. you both need that, don’t you?”

that was just the kick he needed to get off his couch and charge over to the hospital. barreling into your room and feeling tears come to his eyes again at the sight of you in a hospital bed. 

“seonghwa,” you weakly say, your lips quirking up when you see the boy standing in the doorway. your heart lifts when he smiles back at you, cautiously making his way over to you and whispering out an apology. 

“it’s okay,” you mumble out, leaning into his touch when he places his hand on your cheek.

“it’s not baby. i was an asshole.”

the last thing he expects to hear you do is giggle, sunken eyes shining as you look at his confused expression. 

“what could you possible be laughing about right now?”

“just that it takes me dying for you to admit that you’re an asshole.” 

and perhaps it’s too soon for you to be making jokes like that because his face falls as he backs away from you.

“that was a joke,” you say quietly, pouting in hopes that it’ll get him to lighten up. his lips only form into a thin line, teary gaze shooting around the bare hospital room before back at you.

“it’s not funny.”

you hold your arms out to him, uttering a tiny “come here.” he falls into them immediately, his head burying in your neck and you feel tiny, tears hit your skin ever so often.

“i’m sorry,” you tell him, feeling your own sorrow hit you. 

you’re not only sorry for your comment but sorry that you waited so long to tell him. sorry that you’re now putting him through this and that he’s gonna have to watch you grow weaker and weaker.

“please don’t,” he mumbles against your head. “you have nothing to be sorry for.” 

he knows by the look you give him that you think it’s a complete and utter lie but you really don’t have anything to be sorry for. he understands why you didn’t tell him and why you wanted to remain going on like a normal person.

because if you did tell him, he would’ve never dragged you all around the state on date nights and weekend getaways. he would’ve been far too concerned and nervous, fawning over you and choosing instead to do the same old thing you always did.

so you guys just agree to disagree, his lips crashing down on yours and you smiling against them before a very flustered nurse comes in and apologies for interrupting. 

given how much seonghwa never leaves your side, how from the second he gets out of school until he leaves (at his bribed time of 11:00 pm), you end up apologizing to every member of the staff. 

on the days you have the energy, you’ll walk hand-in-hand through the garden and slow dance with the elderly couple you’ve met; you guys had seen them dancing and they noticed your looks, smiling softly before all but forcing you to join them.

on the days that you have more often than not, when you feel tired and drained, he sits at your bedside or even crawls in next to you. 

your dad had walked in one night to see you both asleep on the tiny bed, seonghwa’s arms around you protectively with your head on his chest, and forgets that he never properly apologized to the boy.

“this is why i did it,” the man says to him the next day. 

they had left to get you soup you’d been craving, pushing seonghwa by his back and sending him a thumbs up despite the terrified expression on his face. 

“what?” 

the man looks at seonghwa as his eyes gloss over. 

“i didn’t wanna involve someone else in this heartbreak. i was... i was trying to spare you.” 

and while the boy can empathize with his reasoning, even feels slightly grateful for it, he finds himself shaking his head. 

“i love her.”

“i know,” the man says, putting his arm around seonghwa’s shoulder and squeezing it gently. how could he not when he sees the way you both look at each other? “she loves you too.”

“i know,” seonghwa says, smiling happily before taking a deep breath. “and that’s why i wanted to ask you something.”

and so it was a random wednesday night, summer break now in session and successfully keeping seonghwa at the hospital all day and night, when you completed your bucket list. 

when you whined at him to kiss you and his eyes lit up, like he was waiting for you to say something of the sort. 

“on one condition,” he says teasingly, his eyebrows shooting up playfully as your lips are just a few inches apart, so close to giving you what you so desperately want. 

“what?” you whine, your lips turning into a pout.

“marry me.”

the wedding was held at the church your dad preached out, a small group of your friends and family gathered for the celebration. it had been the happiest day of your lives, not a hint of a sadness or heartbreak despite the circumstances.

you ate and danced and sang like you were any other young bride, dragging seonghwa out on the dance floor who’s hold on you never loosened. 

he stepped on your feet and you got the cake in his nose but it didn’t even matter. you were able to get married and fall in love with park seonghwa and he was responsible for some of the best days of your life. 

seven months later, seonghwa finds himself walking through that same cemetery he (admittedly) followed you into. 

it was the place where he first realized there was something about you he was gonna fall in love with. where he saw just how much you were gonna effect and change his life. 

he had not only finally learned how to love but how to grieve. 

learned that he didn’t have to be destructive or hide behind his fake persona. that he had people in his life who cared about him and would be there to listen to him.

it’s how he’s coping day by day, knowing that the pain in his heart will never go away but that he’ll learn to live with it. that memories and reminders aren’t supposed to make you sad but serve as a way to carry on someone’s life.

with the blanket he has under his arm, he lays it out and places it in front of the grave. he drops down the flowers he’s brought every month since that devastating day and just begins to talk. 

“why do you come here then?” 

the question holds no malice or judgement, just a genuine curiosity that you perhaps understand. because while it's fairly common for people to visit their loved ones graves, its also something that some get uncomfortable by or don't understand.

"to talk to her, i guess. i think she'd wanna know what's going on in my life."

he mulls over your response in his head, nodding in understatement even though he doesn't really get it.

"what do you talk to her about?" and for the life of him, he can't understand why he's so interested in this. in you, all of the sudden.

you turn to look at him, slightly surprised that he's taking the lead in the conversation and showing an interest. but before he can misconstrue your gaze on him, you shrug your shoulders.

"anything really. i tell her about school or my dad's sermons or what i did during the weekend. sometimes i'll read."

he talks about his upcoming semester of school and how excited he is about it.

“i wish you’d be able to see me,” he says quietly, the lump forming in his throat making it difficult to breathe. 

he stands up to run his hand along the cold stone, his long fingers trailing over it before he moves back and looks over the engraving; a few moments later, he feels arms around his waist and smiles softly at the feeling. 

“you okay?” the soft voice asks him quietly. 

“yeah,” he says lowly, feeling the presence behind him move. “just telling her about school.” 

a quiet, soft hum rings through the air. 

“she’d be proud of you, you know.”

his eyes look over the grave once more before turning around, his eyes and smile softening. “i know.” he stands there silently, looking down at the headstone before picking up his blankets and saying his final goodbyes.

“see you soon, mom.” 

he turns around and meets your teary gaze, taking you in his arms and placing a kiss on the top of your head. 

“no crying, pretty girl.”

the doctors had called your remission nothing short of a miracle, transporting you to a different hospital where new treatments were being held. 

you all had been convinced that it was gonna be a waste, almost denying the treatment all together and letting the spot go to someone who’s family hadn’t come to terms with their loved ones death.

but then seonghwa’s mom came in and softly encouraged you to take it, her hand holding tightly onto yours like she knew you guys were gonna need each other come the time.

“you say that every time,” you sniffle, pouting as he wipes at the tears on your face. 

“because you cry every time.”

your soft giggle rings through the cemetery, your hands intertwined as you walk out of the squeaky gate that always reminds you of the night you shared your bucket list. 

(the bucket list that now has way more than four things on it). 

[inkedstarlight]

Elriel: Halloween Edition

Summary: Azriel and his son go trick-or-treating and stop by Elain's house. They have an adorable encounter. Later that night, Elain goes to Feyre's house for the Halloween party she's throwing and meets her boyfriend, Rhys. Rhysand's brothers also come to the party and Elain runs into Azriel yet again. Let the romance ensue. Basically just a shit ton of fluff. Note: Read it here on AO3!

There was nothing Elain Archeron loved more than giving candy out to little kids on Halloween. Which is why she was currently sitting on her living room couch in her costume, the bowl of candy in her lap as she patiently waited for the first trick-or-treater to come.

It was the first Halloween that she’ll have spent in her new house. She’d recently moved from her studio apartment to a small, two-bedroom house just outside the city. After being promoted from teacher to principal at the elementary school she’d worked at for more than five years, Elain figured a little change was in order.

Unfortunately, the new neighborhood was a bit further from her sisters than her apartment had been. They both lived in the city, Feyre taught painting lessons at the local art store while Nesta worked as a software developer at a start-up tech company. Feyre had also recently moved; her boyfriend of only seven months, Rhysand, asked her to move in with him. Elain hadn't yet met him but from what Feyre had told her, he seemed like he treated her sister really well. But Elain would be the judge of that.

Well, more like Nesta would be the judge of that. Elain was certain that her older sister was going to interrogate the poor man until she's squeezed out his darkest secrets. Nesta had a... unique way with people. Unconventional, but it'd been effective thus far.

Tonight was particularly exciting because the couple was hosting a small Halloween bash at their place. Elain had been bugging Feyre for weeks to properly introduce Rhysand to her and Nesta. Their schedules very rarely matched up.

The doorbell rang, pulling Elain from her thoughts and back to the present. She glanced at the clock. It was four-thirty in the evening. The sun still shone bright in the sky.

She grinned to herself. Let the trick or treating commence.

Jumping up from where she sat, Elain excitedly made her way to the front of the house. She swung the door open. What she saw on her porch melted her damn heart.

A little boy, no older than six, was dressed as a firefighter. He had a tiny hard hat on his head, his chocolate hair curling out from underneath. A dalmatian stuffed animal was tucked under his arm, his other hand clutching a jack-o-lantern bucket for candy. His eyelashes were impossibly long as he looked up at her with wide eyes and a goofy smile. It was contagious.

Elain also noticed that he was alone, no adult in sight.

“Trick or treat!” the boy greeted her.

“Happy Halloween!” Elain replied with a giggle. She put her bowl of candy on the ground to kneel in front of him. She looked around. “Is someone with you?”

“Yeah,” the kid sighed like he just got out of a stressful work meeting. Elain inwardly smiled. “My daddy. But he kept talking and talking about why he thought Mounds was his favorite candy, even though it’s obviously the worst.”

The boy stopped to look at her as if waiting for her to agree. Elain nodded her head vigorously. Naturally.

“He was just talking so much,” the little boy continued. He gestured for Elain to come closer before whisper-shouting, “You know, I really think he needs a girl in his life –”

“TOBIAS!” a strong, male voice called out.

“Uh-oh,” the boy, Tobias, muttered under his breath. He looked up at Elain with pleading eyes. “Don’t let me get in trouble.”

Elain suppressed her laugh and nodded at him. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Tobias held out his pinky finger. "Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise," Elain swore. Gods, this kid was a gem.

Elain watched as a man approached her yard. His face was twisted with frustration, presumably because his son ran away, but he was… beautiful. Elain sucked in a breath as she ran her eyes up and down his body. He was wearing a loose white shirt, slightly sheer, that had a very deep V. The sleeves were cut off messily and he wore a fake sword on his hip. He was a pirate. A sexy pirate. But it was definitely a costume that wasn't advertised as 'sexy.' No, it was the man wearing it that made it sexy. And to make it even better, he looked as if he’d thrown it on last minute when his son reminded him it was Halloween.

The man stopped in front of Tobias. He crossed his arms, paying no mind to Elain.

“You’re in big trouble."

“But –”

“We’ve talked about this, Tobias. You can’t just run away from someone when you get bored.”

Now Elain really had to hold in her laugh. She covered it with a cough.

That's when Tobias’s father realized they had an audience. He directed his authoritative stare to Elain, and his hazel eyes immediately softened. She did her best to not fidget as his eyes ran over her. He must have seen the humor on her face because his lips twitched upward.

 Fucking adorable.

“Sorry about my son,” he said sincerely, shooting a glare at an oblivious Tobias from the corner of his eye. “I’m Azriel. And you are?”

“Elain," she told him with a shy smile.

“Elain,” he echoed, testing it out on his tongue. Shivers ran down Elain’s arms. His voice was like velvet. She could listen to him repeat her name over and over again for hours.

Stop being so creepy.

“You, uh –” Azriel stumbled over his words awkwardly as he tried to find the words. “I love your costume.”

Elain blushed appreciatively. But before she could thank him, Tobias groaned.

“C’mon, Daddy, that was so lame. Get her phone number or something.”

Elain clapped a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking as she nearly lost it. It was Azriel’s turn to blush this time.

“Tobs, now’s not the time –”

“But she’s so pretty and nice! I already love her,” he pouted up at his father.

Azriel mumbled incoherent words as he tried to usher his son off the porch. “We should really go,” Azriel said, trying to avoid eye contact with her. He was so awkward. She loved it. “I’m so sorry again.”

“Wait!" Elain blurted out, trying to delay his departure. Azriel looked at her and she gave him a sheepish smile. "You forgot to grab some candy."

Tobias didn't need to be told twice. Elain held out the bowl for him to choose. He fished around for a while before picking three Skittles packages. Elain gave him a wink before turning to Azriel.

“Everyone should get candy on Halloween,” she grinned at him.

He looked at her curiously before smiling gratefully and taking a piece of candy without even looking to see the options.

“Thank you, Elain," he said, his tone sincere and soft. She nearly melted right there.

"Happy Halloween," she murmured as she watched Azriel back away, Tobias looking at his father as if he had two heads. Azriel seemed to be in a daze, giving Elain a small wave as he continued to walk backwards. He stumbled over his own feet, earning a laugh from Elain. Then, he finally turned around and walked out of sight.

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

“It’s so wonderful to meet you!” Elain exclaimed, ignoring the hand that Rhysand held out and going straight in for a hug.

“Don’t suffocate him,” Feyre joked as she watched them embrace.

Elain had arrived to their place a couple minutes early, eager to meet her sister’s boyfriend. Elain backed away to let Nesta introduced herself. Elain leaned over to Feyre.

“You didn’t tell me how cute he is,” Elain whispered with a giggle.

Feyre laughed. “Did I mention he has two brothers?”

Elain’s jaw dropped. “No, you seemed to have conveniently left that part out.”

“Well, they’ll be here soon,” Feyre said with a twinkle in her eye. “And they’re both single.”

Nesta turned to them as they laughed secretively. Rhysand followed her gaze. “What are you two giggling about?”

Before Feyre had a chance to answer, the doorbell rang. She excused herself, Rhysand right on her tail.

Elain looked over at her older sister to see her glaring down at her. “Let me guess: you guys were talking about Rhysand’s brothers.”

“How’d you know?”

Nesta let out an exasperated sigh. “She’s already tried to set me up with one of them.”

“I’m guessing it didn’t go well?”

Nesta scoffed. “Horribly. She failed to mention that he was a grade A –”

“Fancy seeing you here, sweetheart,” a low voice interrupted Nesta’s rant.

A man approached them, hands in pockets as he strutted confidently. His long brown hair was tied up in a messy bun and a five o’clock shadow on his sharp jaw. Elain watched as her sister dragged her hands down her face and groaned at the mere sight of him. That only made him chuckle deeply.

“Miss me?”

Nesta ignored his comment and reluctantly gestured to him. “Elain, this is Cassian. Cassian, this is my other sister Elain.”

Cassian shot her a goofy grin and reached out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Elain. I’ve never seen anyone rock fairy wings like you are.”

Elain couldn’t help but blush. “Thank you.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Ugh, stop charming everyone!”

“I’m irresistible, sweetheart,” Cassian batted his eyelashes.

“I need a drink,” Nesta muttered to herself before walking away and in the direction of the kitchen.

Cassian winked at Elain before following her sister. “I could use a drink too!"

Elain listened to them bicker as they walked away, a smile touching her lips.

Over the next couple hours, more and more people arrived at Rhysand and Feyre’s place. It soon got crowded, Elain unable to hear over the booming music and incessant chatter.

She was sitting on an loveseat in the corner watching Cassian trying to convince Nesta to dance with him when she heard a familiar voice.

"Sorry I'm so late, the babysitter cancelled last minute and I had to find a replacement."

Elain's head snapped to the foyer where Feyre and Rhys stood with another man. Elain got a glimpse of his face as he took off his jacket, and her suspicions were confirmed.

It was Azriel.

Elain's heart was beating out of her chest as she watched Feyre lead Azriel into the living room where she sat.

Then he spotted her.

He stopped dead in his tracks, Feyre continuing to walk and talk, not noticing that she no longer had his attention. No, his eyes were on Elain and Elain alone.

Elain gave him a little wave. Azriel's lips turned into a full out smile as he caught up to Feyre, who had been leading him to Elain anyway. Presumably to introduce him to her and Nesta.

"Azriel, this is -"

"Elain," he finished. His eyes were still on her, disbelief on his face.

Feyre looked between them confusedly. "Do you guys know each other?"

"Uh..." Elain started, unsure of what to say. "Sort of?"

"I went out with Tobias and we incidentally stopped by her house," Azriel explained.

"Well," Feyre said with a mischievous grin. "I guess I'll leave you guys to it." She shot Elain a look that said, You should make a move.

And just like that, they were alone.

Azriel took a seat beside Elain, leaving only a couple inches between them as he turned his body toward her. He smelled amazing.

"So, you're Feyre's sister, huh?" Azriel gazed at her earnestly and bumped his shoulder against hers. "I guess that means we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

Elain bit her lip to stop herself from grinning like an idiot. "No complaints here."

A comfortable silence fell between them as they watched others dancing and drinking. The current song faded out and "Creep" by Radiohead began to play.

"Would you, um... would you like to dance?" Azriel asked her tentatively.

Oh my gods, yes! What kind of question is that?

"I would love to," Elain exclaimed.

Azriel stood and held out his hand. The moment Elain took his hand with her own, she was a goner.

He led them to the makeshift dance floor before bringing her hand to his shoulder and grabbing her waist gently with his hand. Fire shot through Elain when his thumb circled idly on her palm. Then, he pulled her in close.

"This okay?" Azriel murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. She shivered and nodded.

"Did I mention," he continued, spinning them in a slow circle, "that you are absolutely gorgeous?"

Elain hid her face against his shoulder to smile widely before craning her neck to look at with him, a twinkle in her eye. "I think you were too busy tripping over your own feet to mention that."

Azriel tipped back his head and laughed loudly. She loved the sound. "You wound me, Elain," he told her, but Elain could see the faint blush in his cheeks. He leaned in to whisper, "You're right though. You make me nervous."

The music swelled, and Azriel guided both of Elain's hands to cup the back of his neck. He encircled his arms around her waist until their bodies were flush against each other, their foreheads touching.

"I like Tobias. He's a great kid."

Azriel's entire body seemed to relax as he gave her an easy smile. "He's a handful, and I love him."

"I can tell," Elain told him. "You're a good dad."

"Thank you." Azriel huffed out a laugh. "You're something else, Elain Archeron."

Elain leaned her head back and she searched his hazel eyes. "Is that a good thing?"

Something unreadable flashed in his eyes. "Yes."

And then he was capturing her lips in his to give Elain the sweetest kiss she'd ever had.

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

tag list (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @sjmships​ @sleeping-and-books​ @sirgwaines​ @books-for-sure​ @blowing-mikey​ @b00kworm​ @wineywitch202​ @liquifyme​ @maastrash​ @thewayshedreamed​

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

TUA MEAN GIRLS AU

(please understand that by AU, I mean they share an incredibly small amount of things in common with the original source material which I barely remember BUT the “story” takes place in the setting of the film) (not to be misleading or anything :p)

(BEWARE: abuse, bribery, immoral deals, bullying, homophobia, outing, transphobia, violence, abortion, teen pregnancy, etc.)

(If you can handle watching Umbrella Academy, this will be fine for you.)

(Regina) Five is the king of this school, and he has no plans to give up that position. He needs it to protect his people, as few and far between as they are, and himself, if he’s honest - he’s a trans and ace-aro kid in platonic love with the health class mannequin who he calls Dolores. Ruling with fear is basically all he can do. While he’s mean, you’ll soon realize that everything he says is more of a blunt observation that will improve your life if you just heed his advice. He doesn’t respect almost anybody - not the jocks, theatre geeks, nerds, cheerleaders, band kids - no one. However, if he does respect you, you have his trust and protection. And as a thirteen-year-old genius who only takes advice from always-slightly-drunk art teacher Agnes, his protection is pretty damn valuable: the last person who tried to hurt one of his people will never walk again. Leonard Peabody - he assaulted Vanya, and he paid. Five beat him to the point of hospitalization without getting a single speck of blood or bruise on himself, and Leonard’s the one who walked away in handcuffs. Do not fuck with any of Five’s people, or you have to fuck with Five. And you do not want to fuck with Five.

(Gretchen) Vanya is quiet and subdued, to the point where people question how she’s a part of the school’s most popular trio. If you talk to her for long enough though, it becomes clear: she knows any and everybody’s secrets. She writes for the school paper, and is known to write the stories her subjects don’t want anyone else to find out about. Like Diego, who she outed as bisexual last year to throw people off the trail of her own secret relationship with Sissy, earning her an ex-girlfriend and an ex-friend. She’s been trying to win Diego’s forgiveness ever since, but he won’t talk to her, returning every single one of her letters and gifts. (He’s blocked her number and all of her socials, which she only created to talk to him anyway.) She doesn’t know why Five keeps her around - Klaus loves to gossip, but Five never seems to want any of her secrets. She’s pleasantly surprised to find out that he apparently actually enjoys her company. (What?)

(Karen) Klaus is a fucking mess. He plays the dumb blonde (well, brunette) despite being a genius in his own right, even if he’s not at Five’s level. (To be fair, he’s pretty sure no one is.) He’s a drag queen on the weekends, a hangover from his time in the mafia gang, which he joined with his boyfriend Dave for six months after running away from home. Dave died in a gunfight, and Klaus has been fucked up (well, more than usual) ever since. Anorexia, PTSD, anxiety, depression, self-harm, suicidal ideation, the works. But as lonely as he is, addicted to a fuckton of hard drugs and liquors to cope, he’s still an alluring, aloof, and bubbly popular girl, wearing pink skirts and glittery heels and leather corset crop tops to school every day. No matter how much his father Reginald beats him for it, he keeps being himself, because he’s brave and because even if Reginald hates him, someone far more important loves him… Diego. Diego, who Klaus has kissed under a million stars and in the lollipop shop down the road and on top of a cafeteria table. Diego, who Klaus has chased through the rain and into the street without rest or hesitation. Diego, whose words and promises and scribbles are immortalized on Klaus’ skin for all to see. Diego, who Klaus will love no matter how much bigotry they encounter or dickwads they’re beat up by or miles they put between them. Diego, Klaus’ ex-boyfriend.

(Cady) Allison is the new girl, and she has plans for the advantage being underestimated has brought her. She challenges Five on her first day there, earning his respect, and joins his group at the urgings of Klaus and Vanya, who like her company. A fashion queen, she acts as though she’s unfazed by any and everything, but nobody knows her true heartbreak - she still writes letters to a girl back home. Allison was expelled from her Christian private school for falling in love with a girl named Natalie, who she kissed in janitors’ closets and who she beat up racist and homophobic blondes for. She has no tolerance for bullies, and yet becomes one under Five’s guidance - until she upends his reign as queen bee and signs her death warrant. (Though she later finds out he was more angry at her for stealing Klaus and Vanya’s affection than his popularity.) Now her only hope for happiness in her final days is Ray, the Shakespeare-quoting nerd in her English class… or Luther, the quiet dork in the Star Trek t-shirts in her math class. Fuck, she misses Natalie.

(Aaron) Luther is the posterboard for toxic masculinity. He’s on the football team but hates it, preferring his math tutoring and fantasy books to tackling drills. His bisexuality is his deepest secret - he once slept with Diego when they were drunk at a party after a football game, and he can’t get it out of his head. He keeps thinking about what might happen if somebody found out - would he be shunned like Diego? Trapped like Vanya? Plastic like Klaus? He doesn’t know. All he can do is continue to be kind and hope Allison loves him enough to love every part of him, beyond his good lucks and British accent and fucking Ray. So Luther stands up to Five, and pays the price. He compliments Klaus on his skirts, and pays the price. (Diego seems to simultaneously love and hate him for it, it’s confusing.) He holds the door open for Ben, and pays the price. He’s big enough to be scary, kind enough to be overlooked - but after that incident with Vanya, everyone looks at him like he’s a monster to be locked up. And soon enough, “star student” Luther, “teacher’s pet” Luther, “completely under the principal’s thumb and completely friendless and completely terrified of the world around him” Luther might just break under all that pressure.

(Janis) Diego is the school’s resident outcast and rebel punk - he wears skirts and fishnets and whatever the fuck he wants because if Klaus taught him anything when they were dating it was that gender is a construct and he looks hot in leather. They broke up when Diego was outed and Klaus chose to stay quiet when people started shunning Diego for it, but despite it all, Diego still loves him. He misses when they used to paint their nails together, because he has to paint his own now. They used to stare up at the stars together and fall asleep in the grass, curled up in each other, on the nights that Klaus would run away in terror from his dad and Diego would breathe with him and let him press his hand against his heart until Klaus’ panic died down. His heart still flutters when he sees Klaus smile around a lollipop… but he won’t take him back. He won’t. He just can’t forgive him. So instead, he talks to his mom about everything. He plays soccer with his sister Eudora. He paints shit while smoking weed with his best friend Lila. He thinks of Luther being scared of him and laughs. You know, he was almost in Allison’s position freshman year - Five loved him, and so did Klaus and Vanya, but then Vanya outed him to the whole school for no reason like a day before he and Klaus were going to come out together. And now they’re all estranged, and Diego has the strangest feeling that he’s lost his family, even though his mom is the only real family he’s ever known. But maybe he’s wrong. Because Klaus keeps sending him “anonymous” letters, leaving them on the porch and spilling secrets Diego never even would’ve imagined him having. But forgiveness is still a question - that is, until one day Diego gets a letter in a different handwriting: Five’s, telling him to man the fuck up and love Klaus before he kills himself trying to tear the stars down for Diego’s own personal pleasure, and suddenly, Diego is crying on his porch in the rain, missing a slender, sassy skeleton in his arms and a pink, bruised but unbroken heart in his chest.

(Damien) Ben is everyone’s favorite, and the kindest person in the world. He used to be Klaus’ best friend, but that ended when Ben got into an accident (there was a bus involved, that’s all you need to know) that landed him in a wheelchair and Klaus couldn’t deal with the mental pain it caused him. They still stare at each other longingly from across the cafeteria, but never say a word to each other, not even in class. But beyond Klaus, Ben has never had any friends, though he has a million aquaintances: he’s the only student in the school that everyone loves and respects. Five holds the door for him, though Ben can tell without having to ask that Five would rather nobody know that. He hangs out with Diego because he knows Diego’s lonely, even if he never wants to admit it. He advises Allison not to let anyone control her, telling her he knows Natalie from summer camp and that the deaf girl still loves her and reads every single one of her letters. He gives Vanya his lunch when she skips to cry in the gym after Diego yells at her, even though a part of him might think she deserves it sometimes. He plays sports with Luther after school and offers him an ear and some jokes about his problems, and a few touchdowns when he’s feeling good. He acts as Ray’s student consultant, because he knows how hard Ray works to treat him like an equal. He tutors Eudora in basically everything, but cuts study sessions short to play video games when he can tell she’s too stressed to think. He’s ace and pan and proud about it; he runs the school’s GSA; he defends Diego and uses the right pronouns for Lila when they’re alone without Lila ever having to him he’s trans. He bugs Reginald’s office in one of their many meetings and records enough conversations to get him fired when he tries to expel Five. And finally, karma rewards him - Klaus shows up at his house with a box of brownies he baked himself, all covered in smiley faces, and shoves them into Ben’s hands, shaking his head when Ben assumes they’re for Diego. I miss you, Klaus tells him, and Ben tugs him down into a kiss, pulling away with a stammered apology. I’m sorry, he blushes, and Klaus beams, leaping into his lap and hugging him closer than ever, the two of them queerplatonic partners from then on, forever linked by their fingers in the hallway. Happy. Finally.

Lila is the shy artsy kid who carries around one of those leather brown satchels that looks threatening but is really just code for “I think I’m too cool for a backpack so I stuff all my incorrect homework and favorite comic books into this sack of knockoff pig skin instead”. He’s covered in paint most of the time, and wears Alice in Wonderland combat boots and Sharpie-doodle-covered jeans and big black hoodies and soft grey beanies; he’s trans and hacked off his own hair until an undercut with choppy slash bangs and there’s pink streaks in them, of course, to match the bubblegum he’s always chewing. His nails are bitten and black, and his skin is decorated with tattoos that are almost exclusively Bo Burnham quotes, with the exception of Diego’s name right over his heart. (Diego has Lila’s name over his too - and Klaus’ and Eudora’s, though he’d never tell them that.) He gives his skirts to Klaus and gets along well enough with Five, them both being trans and all, and everyone else knows him as that kid who’ll spread rumors and steal things for bribes. It’s not like he can get in more trouble than he’s already in - he lives with his bigoted and abusive bitch of a mom. But Diego is his best friend - the one he shoots and stabs things with, the one whose ex-boyfriend he talks to because Diego will never admit to himself that he misses Klaus like he would his own lungs if they were torn from his chest, the one whose sister he’s in love with. Wait. Fuck. Oops.

Eudora is Diego’s sister, and the captain of the soccer team. She wears her red jersey with the white numbers to school every day, and is covered in tattoos of magical creatures, because she believes in all of them. She wishes she was a werewolf, and has dressed up as one every year for Halloween since she was ten. (And she’s let anyone dressed a werewolf give her a hickey just in case that turned her. It’s good to have all your bases covered.) She has a broken down pick-up truck named Travis-Trevor-Thomas-literally-any-other-T-name that she loves beyond belief, and drives Diego to and from school in it, though he grumbles about it every day. She eats lunch with him even though he insists he’s fine eating alone and wants her to go away, because she knows he’s lying, and she hangs around the GSA with him sometimes too. She’s lab partners with her brother’s “secret” ex-boyfriend, and is concerned by how quiet he is - she’s seen enough documetaries to know that quiet never means anything good. But unfortunately, she has her own academic drama to deal with - Hazel and Cha-Cha hate her for helping Klaus, and she hates them right back, leading to failing grades in both English and history no matter how brilliant her work is. Mostly, though, Eudora tries to get to know Lila - the pretty, angry, sarcastic emo boy she shares half her classes with, and flirts with every day despite how he ignores her. (ONLY because Lila still smiles and laughs every time she flirts with him, and Eudora knows from Diego that Lila thinks Eudora only flirts with him because it’s some sort of game of “if you get the guy who’s hard to get you win the hundred dollar bet” deal. Otherwise she would’ve backed off immediately because not doing so would be harassment.) Eventually, though, Eudora runs off-field in the middle of a soccer game and over to the stands to ask Lila to prom. Finally, she gets a yes - and, most importantly, a real smile, curled against her own mouth like a Cupid’s bow of promise.

Sissy is Vanya’s ex-girlfriend, and Fuckwad Carl’s current girlfriend. She hooked up with him after breaking up with Vanya, too drunk to even speak, and now her belly’s ballooning and her parents are gonna kick her out unless she marries him like a good Christian woman. And she really didn’t expect herself to tell them to fuck off for this one, but apparently lesbianism makes you do crazy things - so here she is, standing on Ray’s porch in the pouring rain and hoping for the best. She’s depressed and shows that by reading the Bronte sisters; Klaus opens the door for her and brings her notes with doodles all over them which makes her cry; she misses Vanya but hates her for what she did to Diego. And yet Vanya’s there when she goes to the abortion clinic, smiling and joking and holding her hand like always. One day she’ll have a baby and she and Vanya will raise it right, but fuck - that baby sure as hell won’t be Carl’s. (Because fuck that guy.)

Ray is a humanitarian, so, naturally, he’s also the student council president. Five has never mistreated him, because everyone loves and respects Ray, even his critics. He nurtures Allison’s intelligence and encourages Vanya’s musical habits. He tutors Klaus in basically every subject but never talks down to him because he knows the kid’s a genius, just a bit spacey from all the drugs (and the ADHD, let’s be honest). He helps bring Luther out of his shell and takes Lila out shopping for boy clothes, all of which he pays for himself. He’s not scared or offended by Diego’s sarcasm or intensity, instead greeting him every day in class with a new dad joke. He treats Ben to intelligent conversation like an equal and doesn’t let Five be so harsh he’ll regret it later, though he still lets him say what he means and be himself. Everybody knows he’ll be the real President one day - even if for now he wears pajamas to school every day because, in his words, “Clothes are just too much fuckin’ work, man.” (There’s a possibility he may have still been high from hanging out with Klaus that day.)

The Handler is the evil physics teacher. (I don’t know why I said evil clearly all science teachers are evil.) (Yes this is coming from a place of aggression but hey at least I recognize that.) (Plus he deserves it. So fuck you.) (*sticks tongue out*) (Don’t you see how mature I am?) (I’m sorry I’m sorry back to your regularly scheduled programming -) She’s Lila’s mom, and continually and constantly misgenders him (and Five!) in class, not even because she hates trans people, just because she hates him (and Five!). Five always challenges her dictatorial rule, refusing to participate in solidarity with Klaus when she forces Klaus to sit out for wearing skirts. She keeps trying to flunk Ray too, the little bitch, but he just keeps doing so well that she can’t even come up with a falsely plausible reason to fail him! She’s been bribing Hazel and Cha-Cha to flunk certain students for years, unaware that Lila has been stealing from the Handler’s own purse to double those prices for those students to ace their classes. Everybody hates her, and for good reason. I hope she gets fired. (Shut up and let me project onto fictional characters, assholes.)

Reginald is the evil principal and Klaus’ abusive dad. He sends Klaus to school every day in a boys’ “uniform”, which Klaus has to change out of in the bathroom every day with borrowed clothes from Allison. (Anything he owns lives at her house; they have an agreement.) Once Klaus forgot to wash off his nail polish before Reginald came home and he broke all of Klaus’ fingers one by one. (Agnes wants to beat him into dust with a rolling pin.) Klaus stays at Diego’s house a lot, though Klaus refuses to come after they break up even though Diego makes it clear that his door will always be open. Five, therefore, is super protective of Klaus - every time he comes over, he’s super respectful when Klaus is in the room and then verbally rips Reginald to shreds as soon as he’s gone. He once stayed over for an impromptu sleepover when he noticed that Klaus was terrified-ly coming up with more and more ridiculous excuses for Five to stay and not leave him alone with Reginald, and as soon as Klaus was asleep, tiptoed around the house to set up bugs and cameras he got from Ben. He gives all of the evidence to Eudora to deliver to the police, who arrest Reginald and leave him to rot in a cement cell for the rest of his sorry fucking life while Klaus goes on to live Happily Ever After because fuck you and your stupid as shit traditionalism and inhumane experiments you lying scheming fuckwad of a psychopathic monster toad.

Hazel is the exhausted English teacher. His secret? He hates every book he teaches. Also he’s been taking bribes from the Handler and Lila because teachers don’t get paid enough in our society. Also his wife Agnes of twenty years divorced him a year ago for the whole bribery situation and he’s been sleeping in his car and using the school’s facilities to appear fine. Yeah, Hazel’s a mess. ANYWAY - Five is the only one who seems to know what’s going on, and Hazel would like to keep it that way. He knows Klaus is a genius with words but doesn’t know how to tell him that, and he knows Diego’s favorite book is Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen and has agreed to take that secret to his grave. (What, it’s a good book!) His class is the only place Diego and Klaus dare to interact, and he’s noticed - they often pair up for assignments and take to the floor or beanbags in the corner, often cuddling up and giggling over whatever book or assignment they’ve been sent off to read or do. Hazel also has another hopeless couple he teaches, Lila and Eudora - eventually Hazel starts leaving Lila’s sappy poems about Eudora on Eudora’s desk when she comes in for her own class (separate from Lila’s) because there is no other way those two idiots are getting together, let’s be honest. There’s just too much communication. Mostly Hazel misses his own wife, Agnes - but he’s been out of luck since he cashed it in with the science department, hot cocoa whore that he is.

Cha-Cha is the history teacher, and she has all the sass and dry sarcasm required for that job. She will beat a bitch up for telling her she can’t teach critical race theory, and plays Drunk History and Overly Sarcastic Productions in her class basically every day. She doesn’t believe in tests because if she did she’d have to grade them, and she likes animated kids’ movies and TV shows, especially Paw Patrol and Sofia the First. (Yes, obviously she’s single. She’s also ace-aro, so who the fuck cares.) She takes the Handler and Lila’s bribes because she runs an underground wrestling ring and would like to continue feeding her pitbulls gourmet food. The only kid she’s truly on edge with is Five, who often challenges her in debates - she can’t decide if she’s impressed or enraged about it. Whatever. School’s out, bitches.

Agnes is the art teacher who knows everything about everybody. All of her art is of donuts. (Of course.) She’s a damn good cook, especially of pizza - and donuts. (Naturally.) She always has munchkins available for her students - and donuts! (She always saves the chocolate glazed and jelly ones for Five and Klaus.) She likes to rap explicit beats in her car and play her music so loud it shakes the ground and you can hear it from miles away. (Obnoxious.) So she doesn’t restrict her kids’ projects because that’s not what art is about. (And because it would make her a hypocrite, obviously.) Sure, she divorced Hazel, but hey - she’s living her best life, and eventually he’ll come to his senses and come crawling back to her at three a.m. to badly lipsync a Justin Bieber song about missing her, and she’ll leap out the window into his giant hairy arms and kiss him on his ginormous teddy bear face. Because Agnes, at heart, is a hippy. (And that’s love, bitch.)

Grace is Diego and Eudora’s (and everybody’s!) mom. She goes out for drinks with Agnes on the weekends and to clubs with Pogo every Friday (the librarian/unofficial therapist who acts as her mouthpiece when Diego does something stupid and won’t listen to her advice, the moron). She’s kind to everyone, but takes no one’s bullshit: you hurt her kids, you die. Important Notice: Everybody Is Her Kid. So be kind to everyone, dickwads. Well - except Reginald. And the Handler. Both of whom she bitchslaps for mistreating her precious babies. She then takes in Klaus because Diego loves him, and Ben because Klaus loves him, and Lila because both Diego ad Eudora love him. The only reason she didn’t take in Sissy was because Ray already had her taken care of. She’s a literal angel sent from heaven and we should all be worshipping her like the goddess she is I’m sorry I don’t know when this became Grace Appreciation Day™ but hey I’m here for it and I have no regrets.

[lady-divine-writes]

Teaser for “A Demon on his Knees”

So, I’ve decided to unleash the floodgates of all the BDSM fantasies I have yet to write for these two and focus on a vast array of scenes and situations. This is the first thousand words of one of them (not to be confused with A Dalton Boy on his Knees for anyone reading that. I hope to have this done and up soon ;)  )

***

Tell me about your dirtiest sexual fantasy.

Crowley reads the text message and laughs out loud.

Two months.

Aziraphale has only consented to using his new cell phone for two months. To top it off, it’s probably the hundredth phone Crowley has gotten him. But seeing as they’re on lockdown and his landline has been less than reliable (through no fault of Crowley’s, he assures him), Aziraphale finally relented when the latest iPhone popped up on his desk out of thin air, activated and ready for use.

Two months is how long it took Aziraphale to discover sexting.

Either that, or now that the Nope-ageddon is over and they have time to explore the 6,000-year-old friendship Aziraphale claimed they don’t have, Crowley has become a worse influence on him than ever.

Are you serious? Crowley texts. Why would you, a principality, want to know that?

Aren’t you the one always telling me to broaden my horizons? Get a little more daring? Besides, it’s just sex, Crowley. It’s not that big a deal.

Crowley’s eyes pop open wide at that, genuinely trying to remember when that conversation could have come up. Since he can’t, he can only conclude that yes, he is becoming a bad influence, without even realizing it.

How do you know I even have a dirty fantasy? Sex is a human indulgence. I may tempt them to it, but it’s not something I bother myself with.

Crowley presses send and waits - as in, he stands completely still in one spot and stares at the screen until he gets a response back. And when it does come through, he selects it so quickly, he nearly cracks his screen in the process.

Because I know you, my dear. You are an extremely curious demon. Even if you haven’t indulged in said fantasy, you probably have one.

Crowley grimaces at his phone. Smart ass angel. Fine. Maybe I do have one. Why do you want to know what it is?

Crowley waits again, a little longer this time. Gripping his phone in his hand, he feels a long, troubled sigh fill his body - Aziraphale’s sigh from miles away.

Because I’m a curious angel. And it’s been far too long since you and I have seen one another in the flesh.

In that instant, Crowley softens.

Alright, alright. Just … give me a second.

Take all the time you need, my dear. A warmth shoots up his arm - the warmth of Aziraphale’s smile, the one that comes with that fetching little wiggle he does when he gets his way.

Crowley crosses through rooms from his living room to his office and sits down on his throne. The bed would probably be more apropos for this conversation, but not conducive to coherent thought.

Not when his knees are already buckling and his face flushed.

I do have one fantasy, Crowley texts. But you have to swear that if I tell you, you promise not to judge me.

Why on Earth would I judge you?

Because that’s what angels do. And whether or not you want to admit it, I know you, too.

A substantial pause, and then - You have my word. Now, please. Go ahead.

Fine. Crowley clears his throat, even though he’s not actually speaking. I’m in a room somewhere …

Somewhere? Nowhere in specific?

No. Nowhere in specific. Crowley swallows hard. He makes a few mistakes typing the next few words, and it annoys him to realize his hands are shaking. Eyes closed, hands tied behind my back, and I’m waiting with the door cracked open. Someone walks in – I don’t know who (which is a huge and blatant lie because he does know. He’s known for thousands of years. There’s only one he trusts to do this … only one he wants to do this …) and frankly, I don’t care. I don’t have a relationship with him. I’m not paying him to be there, not tempting him either. But I am expecting him … or someone. Basically, I’m offering myself up for grabs to anyone walking by.

Crowley pauses a second, mouth dry, heart racing in his chest. It’s his biggest fantasy, but it would also be punishment. Punishment for things that he’s done in Hell’s name.

Punishment for not having the courage to go after the things he wants.

How horrible would it be to have some random human wreck him instead of the one he wants so much, he’s ready to claw his skin clean off his body?

And then?

Crowley grins, for a brief moment thrilled that he’s lured Aziraphale in to his secret erotic dream.

He fucks me, entirely unconcerned with who I am or what I want. I’m just there for his use, his pleasure.

And that doesn’t frighten you? Surrendering control? Being at his mercy?

Seeing those words makes Crowley’s heart beat faster. That’s exactly what he wants.

He wants to surrender control …

… but only to Aziraphale.

But how does he let that nugget of information slip without being too obvious?

Yes and no. I’d like to believe that whoever he is, he’s not interested in ending my existence, not showing up with a bucket of holy water to dunk on me. He’s just there to use me. He fucks me, he comes, he leaves, and that’s pretty much where the fantasy ends.

Crowley’s cock has gotten hard while he’s been texting. He squashes his erection with the palm of his hand, staring at the end of his last message, waiting for a reply.

And you’d give that kind of power to a human?

Crowley’s thumbs hover while he tries to find an answer to that question, one that won’t reveal his hand. I’m not saying that necessarily …

That seems rather reckless of you, my dear.

Crowley’s heart sinks as he types back - Yeah. Well, that’s part of the point.

And it’s not a temptation? Not to reap souls for Satan? Just something you want?

If I manage to kill two birds with one stone, I imagine that’s good for me in the end. But no. It’s just something I want. For me.

And you’ve never done this before?

No Crowley texts, holding his breath, wondering what Aziraphale is getting at. Not once.

The message he gets back speeds his heart into oblivion.

Do you feel like making that fantasy a reality?

Crowley raises an eyebrow. What do you mean?

I mean it’s been two months, Crowley. And I miss you terribly.

You would do that? Crowley asks, almost incredulous. You would come to my flat right now, after months of protesting that it would be setting a bad example, to engage in what you admit is reckless behaviour?

Crowley hits send before he has a chance to consider the tone of his message. It sounds cruel when he reads it back, unfair to berate Aziraphale when the realization of this fantasy is all he’s ever wanted. He expects Aziraphale’s next message will be him backpedaling with a Silly me. You’re right. I apologize. I’ll talk to you later. But the message Aziraphale sends is a single word that makes Crowley’s heart clench in his chest.

Please?

There are several auto-responses waiting in a row underneath Aziraphale’s plea, and without having to think (which he hasn’t been doing much of anyway) Crowley hits one.

It doesn’t even require him to hit send, ergo no second thoughts.

Yes.

[houseof-harry]

pleaseee do a back story on why Y/N has trust issues. I’m so CURIOUSSSS🥺

Trigger warning: emotional manipulation, daddy issues basically lmao (and a complacent mom but I don’t want to spoil any more), mental health issues

Most children grow up thinking their parents are perfect. That they can do no wrong, they’re always right, and you can always trust them to be there for you, to take care of you. Y/N was no different. She had a mother who loved her, packed her lunch every single day for school, who took her to all her activities, who cooked her dinner and brought her shopping. She had a father who loved her, made sure she always had somewhere to sleep, a place to do homework, a cheerleader to push her to do her best.

When Y/N was 15, she became a lifeguard for the summer. Easy money, always in the sun, and lots of cute boys swimming around under her watchful eye. It was the ideal job for anyone who was her age, and her parents even offered to drive her so that she could work at the fancy country club to add a few bucks to the low hourly wage she’d be making.

And it was going pretty well. She liked her coworkers, got to know the regulars quickly, and even got a few babysitting gigs out of it.

What she wasn’t sharing with the world was her anxiety. Her crippling, maddening anxiety. The anxiety that almost made her fail her sophomore year of high school, the anxiety that made her nauseous whenever she was awake, the anxiety that had completely taken over her body and locked her soul far far away in the depths of her brain.

She didn’t know how she got to this point. But one day it became harder to breathe, and that heavy weight in her chest never went away. That didn’t stop her from trying to live her life, though, because she wanted to do anything she could to try and make it better.

After a particularly long day at the pool, she was exhausted, sunburnt, and dehydrated. She just wanted to go home, shower, eat dinner and go to sleep.

When she got into her fathers car, he didn’t even give her a second glance. She sat in silence with him for the entire drive home, him not responding to anything she tried to say to him. It was an eerie feeling, and one she would soon become used to whenever she was around her dad.

When they got home, he got out of the car without a word, walking into the house with a huff and a puff, Y/N trailing behind in confusion. Her mom gave her a look of pity, which not only made her more confused, but made the pit in her stomach even more prevalent. What could have possibly happened in the 8 hours she'd been gone?

She soon found out when she walked into her room to find it completely destroyed. Her bed off the frame, pictures shattered, dresser drawers thrown around the floor, the contents strewn everywhere.

She stood in shock, the warm tears quickly falling down her face as she began to panic. Everything had been ransacked, destroyed, completely ruined. She went to close her door to keep out whoever had done this, her one safe space tainted. 

But she couldn’t. The door had been taken off the hinges, no where to be found. When she looked down the hallway to see her fuming father, arms crossed and waiting for her to say something.

“Did you do this?” She whimpered out, like a lost and scared puppy.

“You think you can fuck around with school? Blame it on some mental illness? The principal called to make sure you would be better for this coming year. Don’t go blaming your lazy ass decisions on mental health. You take care of yourself and your responsibilities, and when you don’t I’ll be here to remind you.” His tone was level, almost robotic as he lectured her.

“Where’s my door?”

“Gone. You don’t deserve it, not until you can get your shit together.”

And before she can respond, he was turning and walking away.

Her mom came into view, the same sympathetic eyes she had when Y/N had walked through the kitchen glazing over as she sees her fragile daughter in the door frame, scared and alone.

“Why didn’t you stop him?” Y/N asked, the anger in her voice unintentional but she has no energy to control it. She grabbed the door frame to hold herself up, waiting for some type of explanation.

“You know how your father gets,” is all her mother could think up.

Y/N does the only thing she can think of in the moment, storming past her mother and to the bathroom, closing and locking the door before sobbing uncontrollably. That’s the day she realized neither of her parents were perfect

It took Y/N two years after that to finally get to therapy. Only after years of working with her therapist did she realize how imperfect both of her parents really were.

Like all the times Y/N had been sick as a child, when her father had blamed her for making a mess while she had a stomach bug, complaining that she should know better than to miss the toilet. She was 5 the first time she remembers him doing that.

Or the time she had a stomach ulcer at age 8, and instead of taking her to a doctor, her father told her to just eat more and that she was faking the pain for three months. Only when she was uncontrollably crying did her mother finally speak up.

Or the time she was scared to compete in the state championships for swimming, and her father told her she was being stupid and that he wouldn’t talk to her until the race was over before walking away and to the stands, sitting so far back she couldn’t see him while she waited for her turn.

Or the time she got a 99% on a math exam in 8th grade, and her dad asked why she didn’t get a 100% before throwing the exam away.

Two years of therapy opened those memories back up, and many more, of times she needed love and care from her dad, and all she got was cold, emotionless responses. She had never felt safe around him. She only realized it wasn’t normal to constantly worry your dad will stop loving you if you forget to do your dishes, or leave your cleats out instead of putting them in your closet, or miss a day of school when you have strep throat, when her therapist told her that wasn’t normal. She said that, “a parents love should never be conditional, and should never be used as a punishment.” That’s when Y/N realized she only heard of her father’s love for her when he threatened to take it away.

And her mother was scared, too. Reasonably so, because her father was a scary man. Hell, whenever Y/N did something that made him angry nowadays, he threatens to cut all ties with her, the silent treatment still a favorite of his. The last time he threatened that was when she asked for help paying for a medical bill. He’d called her greedy, telling her she needed to be financially independent at all times, because you never know what could happen.

She always wondered if her dad truly loves her, or if he felt forced to have kids like half of his generation. And she still wonders why her mother never loved her enough to stand up for her.

And why she didn’t trust anyone, especially new people in her life? If her parents couldn’t love her enough to hug her when she felt sick, to sing her to sleep when she had nightmares, to tell her she would be okay when she got nervous before any big event, why would anyone else be able to?