#(i miss my old teacher. she had to step down from teaching last summer for health reasons which i totally respect

[supercantaloupe]

aw my old oboe teacher is busy running auditions the whole day of my recital and can't come :( well i'll simply have to record it now and send her the audio/video

[leiawritesstories]

and the water creeps to my chest

oh no i got really into Mumford & Sons during finals and accidentally wrote some slight angst for @throneofglassmicrofics 😂🫡

basic premise: canon AU where fae/mythical creatures don't exist but magic and arobynn do ;)

Prompt: "Deep End" // song: "Thistle & Weeds"

word count: 574

warnings: slight angst

enjoy!!

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

The fire wouldn't come.

Aelin knew it could, and she knew that it had, and it wasn't. It wasn't coming. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how many breathing or grounding exercises or how many mental doors she unlocked, her fire would not come.

Perhaps it sensed the danger lurking in the red-haired man across the training yard and refused to bend to the cold cunning in his eyes.

Aelin had been sixteen years old when Arobynn Hamel became the weapons master, and he'd been trying to train her in magic ever since, even though he had no magic and knew nothing about the finicky, delicate art of magical training. He'd seemed content to put the Crown Princess of Terrasen through grueling physical training instead for the last four years.

Until he got too greedy.

Until the whispers started.

Until the Crown Princess unexpectedly became Queen and the whispers broke into shouts.

"It's simply...not budging," Aelin called across the training yard, weariness weighing down her voice.

Arobynn's lip curled in badly veiled disgust. "Disappointing, Aelin. Simply disappointing." Ordinarily, the insult would be enough to push her into a tidal wave of wildfire, but all it did was drop heavily upon her weighted shoulders. "Disappointing." He left, boots clicking against the stone steps.

Aelin let her sword tumble to the ground with a dull clang and made it a few jerky strides before she crumpled to the ground, her back flush against the sun-warmed stone of the far wall. Dark, shadowy clouds obscured the sunlight, and the summer air thickened to bursting, becoming heavy with the coppery scent of a storm.

She didn't have the strength to move.

Fat, lazy raindrops dripped slowly from the sky, plopping against the worn gray stones and sand of the training yard and the sweat-soaked material of Aelin's tunic and pants. She cupped her hands, catching the drops, overpowering grief crashing into her as she remembered her mother teaching her to catch the rain.

You may not have all of the water gift, my Fireheart, but anyone can hold the rain.

The queen tipped her head up to the sky as the rain thickened, its rapid patter splashing onto her face, mingled with the tears that slid down her face like the summer shower. I miss you, Mum. So much.

Eyes closed, the storm soaking through her clothes, Aelin felt the darkness close in on her, battering the wavering shreds of her faith. First the crown, now the wildfire--everything was being ripped from her fragile grasp. Even though it was late summer, even though the rain could barely touch the sand and stones before it soaked into nothing, she felt like the water was creeping up her chest, inexorably pulling her into its dark depths.

She was so...alone.

Unbidden, unprompted, heat rose up through Aelin's cupped hands, tiny sparks dancing around her fingertips. She cracked open her heavy eyes, released half a shuddering breath, and watched as the sparks kindled into tongues of flame, tiny dancing flickers of light and color amid the pouring rain. We are always with you, Fireheart, whispered a pair of voices in the depths of her heart.

The wildfire brightened, dancing higher, stronger, mirroring the hope that the queen grasped ahold of as she tugged herself to her feet, flames wreathing her hands and her brow, and picked up her sword.

She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.

And she would not be afraid.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@aelinschild

@renxzs

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

look i didn’t want to be a sour kid

god, it's brutal out here: and percy jackson knows what that means. scars on his body like pulled threads. calluses on his palms from pens that turn into swords, coins that turn into weapons, hands that curl into fists. walking home after an annoying day at school and having to fight the troll on the bridge. you must give me something in order to pass my territory. he gives it death. it gives him another shirt to wash blood stains out of. gods with too much arrogance giving him quests with too little return policy. body that doesn't want to cooperate after he blows up a mountain. body that wants to move too fast when he needs to follow a plan. heart that gets broken and rebuilt with different materials every day. god it’s brutal out here: and percy jackson knows it’s brutal in here too.

traitor: and percy jackson has never felt a word more like a branding in his entire life. he thinks back to the summer he turned thirteen and he sees scorpion tails flashing behind his eyelids. and he sees blonde hair and sometimes he can't differentiate between her and him and them and him. and he sees a scar and he wonders if the cut was deep enough to lose goodness. and he thinks maybe he wouldn’t have minded so much if someone had just told him what was going on. and that makes him a traitor too. and he sees it now, how easily he would succumb to the scorpion tail. how he would welcome the bliss of losing his goodness. who’s to say it’s true goodness anyway? and he remembers the red curls and the summer of beach walks and glass houses and the look of betrayal when plastic hairbrush meets yankees cap. is he a traitor then? to his own feelings? surely not. must be. neither of them liked it. he liked them. traitor, but to who? and remembers the day he left a girl on an island and promised to help her and couldn’t in the end. he remembers eyes of fire at his incompetence. and he is a betrayer. but only to others. traitor: and percy jackson thinks he’s never really betrayed anyone but himself.

got my driver’s license: and percy jackson is growing up so fast his limbs can't keep up. one leg is slightly longer than the other and it makes him clumsy. his left hand is bigger than his right and he uses it to punch. he flies a pegasus for the first time and he understands why mortals are always so angry. they will never know this unbridled freedom. and he gets kissed by a girl and he thinks his skin understands the heat of the sun. and his hair becomes curls instead of waves and he has to clip it> push it> tie it back because it keeps getting in his eyes. and his mom asks him if he wants “blue cake this year?” and he has to tell her he’ll never be too old for it because she’s scared he’s going to grow out of her love. he is not. and paul teaches him how to read a book without feeling like his eyes are drowning and he can’t believe he’s learning to read in high school. and he is moving through the days like water, finding a way around everything. got my driver’s license: and percy jackson knows it’s only a matter of time before he gets a death sentence too.

it’s always one step forward and three steps back: and percy jackson is waking up with no sense of who he is. he is carrying a goddess on his back and he doesn’t even know who his mother is. he is stepping across a river and erasing the curse of indestructible. he is again a demigod with too much vulnerability and not enough care. and he is being flung to an island where time doesn’t move and he doesn’t want to either. and he is healing like he never has before. and he is leaving and not even the girl who loves him can keep him there because he loves another girl and she doesn’t know she loves him back. and he is taking the sky from a friend and he is giving the sky to a goddess and he is leaving a hunter to see the stars and he is watching a new hunter evade the fate they are cursed with. and he was relieved from this burden for one brief second in time. burden of what? burden of sky? burden of prophecy? burden of death? and they are all handed back to him, presented with no other option. they are not the weights in the balancing scale. they are the scale and he is the weights. one step forward and three steps back: and percy jackson wonders if he can go far back enough to erase his own existence. 

i know you get déjà vu: and percy jackson is hurtled to summers spent in a camp, next to a girl, next to a satyr, next to a friend. and he is living his life in montauk with his mom and he is watching red hair fly in the wind, paint smudges on their  skin. and he is remembering how everything is different every year but he can still see the fire wall from his cabin and the smell of wild strawberries is the only thing his scent receptors know how to identify. and he knows solstice could bring death or happiness and he’s starting to think one doesn’t exist and one exists too much. and he sees people who love him and show it in ways he knows. blue candy has never been a complicated feeling. and doesn’t see people who love him in ways he doesn’t know. seaweed brain, let me come with you into the labyrinth, become praetor with me. and he thinks his childhood disappeared the day his mother was kidnapped and is it possible to have déjà vu if you’ve never lived enough to experience something once. and he thinks maybe the god of the sun gets déjà vu every time he pulls the star across the sky because it’s all about warmth isn’t it? your body’s way of saying we’ve been here before and we survived. i know you get déjà vu: and percy jackson is sure he has lived a thousand lives in this one alone.

good for you: and percy jackson is craving a life that doesn’t involve this madness. he is jealous of the kid in his science class that accidentally knocks over the bunsen burner and only gets a disapproving look from the teacher. his nose bleed starts a war. he is jealous of the neireids that simply become the water and wait for the world to stop burning itself to the ground. you look happy and healthy and he looks like he’s missing five years of his life and no way of moving forward. he is tired and he wants to sleep but the last time he did that it was six months later and he couldn’t remember anything. and he wants to sink to the bottom of the ocean but he is still exhaling mud because he drowned in sludge once. and he is too young to be this exhausted but. good for you: and percy jackson wants to become the villain.

all i ever wanted was to be enough for you: and percy jackson is struggling with the expectations people who don't know him want him to have. he is twelve and the teacher hands back a test face down and he knows he’s going to shove it into the pit of his bag before he can be scathed by a red pen. he is thirteen and his mother has finally given herself the hero ending she deserves but he is still this little kid who doesn’t know how to handle the world and if she doesn’t need him to protect her what is his purpose? he is a teenager watching people have silent conversations about his fate and getting no replies when he asks too. as if it is ridiculous to involve himself in these discussions. he can't be the one, it’s not possible. and wait she is here, from her tree grave. no, she is gone, to her hunter fate. wait they are here from their timeless casino. no she is gone and he is young. far too young. and he can’t do this and he can’t do that and he isn’t there yet, not powerful, too reckless, too loyal. the monsters realise his potential and use it to hurt him. the people don't realise his potential and wish he would use it. all i ever wanted was to be enough for you: and percy jackson is too far gone to be of use.

i hope you're happy, but don't be happier: and percy jackson cannot fall in love unless it’s with her. and he has seen the beauty of people and he wants to keep them all close and he doesn’t know how to do it because she keeps him in her grasp. deathly afraid of spiders she says but she has built a web so big he can't move without getting caught. and he goes to a scorned girl on a secluded beach and he likes the way her eyes sparkle in the sun, how she plants the same way his mother does and he leaves her there because she doesn’t have a storm in her gaze. and he loses his memory and remembers only her and he knows it’s inescapable. and maybe he kind of loves it. nobody has ever really given him a choice anyway. at least this one he can love. i hope you're happy, but don't be happier: and percy jackson has never known happier anyway.

jealousy, jealousy: and percy jackson is surrounded by the best. he is in a camp dedicated to people like him and he is still at the bottom. and he is on a quest that makes him the main perpetrator but he is still being puppeted along. and he cant help but wonder if he will turn out like the boy with the scarred face. and he cant help but wonder if he’ll turn out like the girl who grabbed a figurine. and he can't help but wonder if he’ll become a monster or a hero and what’s the difference really. everyone is fighting for a cause. it’s just the matter of whose side you're on. and he wants to know what will happen if he just lets go. he wants to be like the people who follow their cause. instead he is doing biddings. he is following orders. he is making things right. jealousy, jealousy: and percy jackson wants to know if he can be jealous of his own dreams.

i hope i was your favorite crime: and percy jackson is a little kid with a long record. he is on the news plastered as a criminal endangering others, blowing up a bus. it is not the last destruction he causes. he learns to get clever about it. and he is on the news sobbing about his generous stepdad. generous about the bruises he administers, and the words he spits. generous about his appliances. and he is on the news for jumping off a bridge too high to survive. and he doesn’t really know if he will survive but when is he ever really sure he’s going to survive anyway? at least this was a choice. and he is always a criminal unable to plead his innocence. i hope i was your favorite crime: and percy jackson wonders if anyone cares about the injustices against him. 

you're okay: and percy jackson is staring at his reflection in the rippling water and he knows it’s time to forgive himself. he was just a child. with far too much responsibility and far too much guilt. he had seen death before he’d had his first kiss. he had felt pain before he felt comfort. he had never known safety. and now he is old enough to go wherever he wants and do whatever he wants and he has to forgive himself first. because he was just a kid with a hundred targets on his back and only a fierce need to survive protecting him. you’re okay: and percy jackson knows he will be. 

[pftones3482]

Sometimes Stupid

Commission for @randomfandomfan from one of their many prompts they gave me. Took forever bc of work and life and also???? Now I have a cat??? So that's fun. But this was fun to write. Read it here on AO3

Set post TLO and pre HOO (and a little bit post HOO). Under a cut for length.

~~

Contrary to popular belief, Leo Valdez was not stupid.

He was an idiot, at times – for instance, maybe running away from his seventh (fifteenth? He’d really lost track at this point) foster home wasn’t the best decision he could have made, especially given that it was the middle of summer and oh, also, hurricane season. And okay, maybe he should’ve taken more with him than a single change of clothes, a box of Ritz crackers, a pocketknife, and a water bottle that had definitely seen better days, but he was in a rush, okay?

But he wasn’t stupid.

When he ran away from his foster homes, Leo tended to stay away from people where he could. And if he had to be around them, he cleaned up, smiled brightly, “Yes ma’am”ed and “Yes’sir”ed to an obnoxious point, and lied his pants off. People were less likely to call the police on a Hispanic kid if they thought he was just a darling little angel waiting for mom at the grocery store, and the last thing he needed was the cops in his business.

Not that it hadn’t happened, of course. He’d dealt with cops of all kinds – nice cops, bad cops, black cops, white cops (WAY too many of those, in his opinion), the occasional cop who would speak Spanish with him, cops who were just there to write a report and move on with their days – cops.

He tried to stay away from them.

Which meant sticking to beaches and forests, lakes and campgrounds, middle of nowhere places with no people for miles. Leo was good at disappearing. Hiding.

But there were always times when he needed an adult. When he needed to hitchhike, or when he needed food to the point of near passing out. Once for serious medical attention. There was a system to what adults you could trust.

Never cops. You could never trust the cops, no matter what naïve white parents thought. Leo had been in cuffs enough to know that was false.

You also couldn’t usually trust priests. They meant well, sure, but they always ended up calling the authorities in the end. That, or they tried to convert Leo to Catholicism, and while one of those encounters had ended with a swiped bottle of watered-down red wine and a night that made him vow to never drink again, he wasn’t trying to contact the church.

(THAT night, Leo would say he had been stupid. He could admit that)

Homeless people were usually okay. While a lot of them were very suspicious of everyone, almost every homeless person he’d ever met would point him in the direction of food, water, free showers, free clothes, or a library (his saving grace during the heat of the summer and the cold of the winter). The times when he came across gay homeless people were when he felt safest – they especially never pressed him about his background. Ironic, really, that he felt safer with strangers on the street than his foster homes.

Moms were sometimes okay. Especially if they were Hispanic, or black, or just anything but white. They, at least, wouldn’t call the cops on him. But they were also hit or miss – sometimes they helped in way of a meal, or a new bottle of water. One mom even took him to the store and got him new socks and underwear (he had cried that night). But other moms rushed him away from their precious babies. Some moms called him ungrateful for the “space he had.”

Dads were a never. Leo never went to men if he could help it, even if they had children with them. He didn’t trust them as far as he could throw them, and that wasn’t very far.

But it was hurricane season. And he was on the coast. And it was downpouring, and he was starving, and the only people he had seen for miles were a white couple, a man and a woman, standing on the porch of a somewhat rundown shack that Leo would’ve probably thought was abandoned if he hadn’t seen them there.

The man was tall, peppered hair that was shifting more to salt, with a rough beard and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. The woman at his side was short, probably Leo’s height, with dark curly hair and vibrantly blue eyes. It was streaked with gray, but she was, admittedly, a very pretty woman. Something about her smile put Leo at ease.

He clutched his backpack tighter in his fist and stumbled over the sand towards the shack, ankles rolling uncomfortably on the wet ground. He was sure he looked atrocious, sure that the moment they spotted him, they’d shriek and cuss him out and lock the door.

But then he coughed, hard, his shoulders shaking, and the woman whipped her head around. He watched her eyes widen, watched her tug at the man’s sleeve, and then she was bolting – barefoot, Leo noticed – down the steps and over to him.

He flinched when she wrapped an arm over his shoulders, jolting out of her grip more from habit than anything else. She froze, holding both hands up and relaxing her stance. “Hey, honey. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Somewhere deep down, Leo’s brain was scoffing at the patronizing words. But on the surface, he focused on the words, and then sharpened his eyes onto the man as he approached, phone in hand. “I-I c-can’t-”

The woman looked back, down at the phone, and her shoulders stiffened. “Paul, put the phone away, please.”

Her voice held an intonation that Leo couldn’t decipher, but the man – Paul – instantly shut the phone off and pocketed it. The moment it was gone, Leo let his shoulders loosen, and he looked at the woman anxiously. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I-I just…”

“Hey.”

Her arm was more cautious this time, sliding around Leo’s shoulders with a pace that would let him move if he wanted. He didn’t, just let it happen, and then the woman was easing him over the sticky sand and up the steps of the shack, Paul close behind them. He stopped at the door, pushing back hard against the woman’s guiding grip. “I don’t want to ruin your house,” he managed.

The woman’s laugh was…well, to be perfectly honest, it made Leo feel warm. Like she could never hurt him.

Those are usually the most dangerous people, his mind tried to reason with him.

“Sweetheart, it’s just a rental cabin. Besides, I’ve had far worse than a little sand and water on my floors before.”

Before he could wonder at that sentence, she opened the door and nudged him inside. The second that Paul closed the door, the sound of the wind died down and the chill in the air evaporated. Leo realized he was shivering.

The woman’s hands were warm on his cheeks. “My name is Sally, hon. You are-?”

He usually gave a fake name, but – “Leo, ma’am.”

“Don’t you ma’am me,” she scoffed, her voice easy as she helped Leo to the couch. “I’m not that old, am I Paul?”

Paul put his hands up. “I abstain from answering.”

Sally scoffed and pressed a cool hand on Leo’s forehead. “Can I take your backpack, sweetheart?”

Something like panic flared in Leo’s chest, and Sally must have seen it, because she pulled her hand back and held it up. “I’m not moving it far, I just want Paul to dry everything out for you, okay?”

Fingers shaking, Leo shrugged off his bag – the one he’d been carrying for nearly three states – and passed it over to her. She took it like it was a priceless artifact, and handed it to Paul with more tenderness than Leo had ever seen given to an inanimate object. “I think my son might have left some clothes here while he was with us last week,” she said, voice soft. “He’s a little older than you, so some things might be big, but is it okay if we give you some of his clothes while we dry out yours?”

Leo swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Um. Yeah.”

She stood up and left with Paul, giving Leo a moment to be alone and take in the cabin around him.

It was old, but obviously well taken care of, with weathered planks of wood gracing the walls and the floor. He was in the living room, full of mismatched couches and chairs and a bookshelf stacked full of books and games. He didn’t see a TV in sight, but he wasn’t expecting to find one. He stood shakily, suddenly very aware of how wet he was getting the couch, and wrapped his arms around himself as he explored the rest of the main room.

The kitchen was small and cramped, but he could smell something full of tomatoes and spices in the oven that made his tastebuds water. He didn’t dare look for fear of getting caught, so he stepped away and into the tiny dining area. There was sand on the floor, spread thin and fine, and it was such a small thing, but it made Leo relax even more – Sally meant it when she said she didn’t care about him ruining her floors.

But she and Paul had been gone for a while, and Leo wasn’t stupid, okay? It didn’t matter how well intentioned someone was, they always thought they knew better, and if they were gone too long, it meant they were trying to decide for him. So he crept towards the hallway they’d vanished to, praying that he didn’t step on a squeaky board. Old homes always had them in the most inconvenient places.

“-not answering?” he picked up Paul’s voice saying.

“No,” Sally said, a sigh in her voice. “He did say he and Annabeth were on a date, but I didn’t expect them to be in Paris of all places. How did they even-?”

“Can you get ahold of Chiron?”

Not the police, then, Leo reasoned, unless they knew an officer by that name. He leaned a little closer.

“No – I try not to call the camp unless I need to. Phone lines and all that, you know?”

Paul huffed. “I know. And Rachel is at art camp, right?”

“Yup,” Sally said, and Leo heard a sound like a blowing raspberry. “He clearly isn’t aware of anything, Paul. He’s terrified.”

“Probably a runaway,” Paul hummed, and Leo flinched at the damning statement. “Met a couple kids like that teaching.”

He looked like a teacher. You couldn’t trust most teachers either, Leo had learned. They were just like priests. Tried their best, but they always inevitably called someone.

“What did you do? Who did you call?” Sally asked, and Leo stiffened. Here it comes, his brain taunted.

“No one,” Paul said.

Leo blinked, taking a slight step back. What?

“Kids don’t run away for no reason, Sal. Especially not kids like him. Perce taught me that. I mean, maybe in my early days of teaching, I might have called the authorities, but ever since this summer I…how could I risk that? Even before then, I mean…the stories I’ve heard from some of these kids I’ve talked to. We don’t know anything about him. If he ran away, all this way, in this weather? It was bad, love.”

Leo’s throat ached.

He’d never, the whole time he’d been in foster care, ever heard an adult admit that they were wrong to call the authorities on him. Never heard an adult take his perspective into account, especially without even knowing him. Never had an adult admit that his life could be anything other than ideal.

He took another step back and oh shit, there it was, the cursed piece of wood in every old house to ever exist. He cussed under his breath and ducked his head as Sally stepped into the hallway. He refused to look up at her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You were just gone for a while a-and I thought you might be calling someone.”

No verbal response. Instead, a soft bundle of fabric was pressed into Leo’s hands. He startled, gripping onto the clothing, and looked up at Sally and Paul with wide eyes. Paul shook his head. “We’re not calling anyone, son. Not if you don’t want us to. But we do ask that you get cleaned up, before you catch pneumonia.”

Sally tilted her head towards the door across the hall. “Let me know when you’re done, I’ll toss your clothes in the dryer. Paul was just finishing up dinner when you came along. Do you like lasagna?”

Leo’s mouth watered at the thought of eating any kind of food that wasn’t stale crackers and canned tuna. “Yes ma’am.”

“What’d I say about that ma’am nonsense?” Sally scolded.

Leo ducked his head, trying to press down the tears. “Yes, miss,” he chuckled.

Sally laughed as Paul headed for the kitchen. “It’s a start, love.”

~~

Sally’s son’s clothes were soft, well loved. They smelled like sea water and lavender detergent, and though the t-shirt was a gaudy orange with letters so faded that Leo couldn’t read them, he sank into the fabric with a sigh. Sally had also passed him a pair of sweatpants, and Leo hoped that her son wouldn’t be mad if he ever found out that some random foster kid had borrowed them.

If he was anything like Sally, though, Leo had the feeling he’d like him.

His hair was still wet, but this time from a shower, and Leo couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten to stand under an actual stream of hot water without people literally timing him to make sure he didn’t take too long. He stood in front of the mirror, sighing a little at how skinny he’d gotten. He’d always been small – being skinny only made him more of a punching bag for the bigger foster kids. His hair, untamed from weeks of running, hung in his eyes, and he wondered briefly if Sally might have a hair tie he could borrow.

He left the bathroom and crept into the dining room, where Sally was setting the table and Paul was pulling one of the most beautiful lasagnas he’d ever seen out of the oven.

“-texted me, said they’d be back tomorrow morning. He offered to come back sooner,” Sally was saying as Leo stood in the doorway, “but I know he and ‘beth haven’t really gotten to go on any non-monstrous dates recently.”

She blinked when she saw him standing there, and her smile softened into something warm and inviting. “Come on, hon. Paul was just getting dinner out.”

Maybe it was the malnourishment, or Paul’s cooking skills, or Leo’s exhaustion, or a combination of the three, but Leo had never tasted such good Italian food in his life. He downed one, two, three pieces and a full salad before he finally slowed down. To his relief, neither Paul nor Sally gave him any grief about how many pieces he took. Honestly, he thought he watched Paul actively make his slices bigger than theirs.

They’d clearly been talking about their son when he came in the room. This guy was in Paris, on a date with his girlfriend, and he was coming back tomorrow. Leo wondered just how rich this family was – the dad was a teacher, but Sally hadn’t said what she did, and Leo was a little afraid to ask.

When Paul brought out a pie for dessert, Leo almost cried. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had any dessert fancier than a stolen Ding Dong from a corner store. Paul definitely gave him a larger slice than them, and as he ate it, Sally poked at her own pie.

“Leo, we’re not going to pry,” she started, gentle. “Your story is yours, and I know how tricky it can be to share yourself and your past with new people.”

The sad smile Paul shot her didn’t go unnoticed by Leo, and he internally bristled at the thought that this wonderful mom in front of him could understand anything about how he felt, because that meant that she’d gone through shit she didn’t deserve. He said nothing, though, just nodded.

Sally eyed her pie thoughtfully, stabbing a blackberry that had escaped the crust. “But I feel like…well, I feel as though my son especially can relate to how you’re feeling, or at least some of it. If you’d be willing to wait for him to come home, maybe we can figure some things out together.”

Leo felt lost. He’d been lost a lot before, but this was the first time it was mental and not physical. “What?”

Sally looked up, seeming to realize that she’d baffled him. “I mean…”

She looked at Paul, and Leo looked between the two of them, tightening his grip on his fork. They were having a silent conversation. Leo hated when adults did that. “You mean you want to wait until I’m asleep so you can call the cops o-or foster services or-or just wait until your son gets back so he can tell me to get out.”

He shoved his chair back from the table, tears prickling at his eyes. Every time. Every time. He always got his hopes up, always thought he’d found the perfect people, people who got it, and every fucking time, he-

Hands settled on his shoulders, and he ripped away, scowling at Sally. Her eyes were sad, and Leo felt an unwelcome stab of guilt in his chest. “That is not what we were suggesting, ever, honey. I would never call foster services, first of all. They’re atrocious, especially for kids of color.”

Leo jolted back. He’d never had a white woman actively acknowledge his race so bluntly before – it was usually partnered with some demeaning comment about “his kind” of people. He eyed Sally warily.

She lowered her hands, keeping them on her hips where he could see them. “Second, I’d never call the police either. You’re not a problem, and my son has had enough unfortunate encounters with them for me to…distrust them severely, to say the least.”

Her son had-?

“I just…we know a place. Where you would genuinely be safe, hon. No foster homes, no cops, with people who get it.”

She was lying. She had to be lying, no matter what Leo’s heart said. But she wasn’t going to let this go, and he knew it. So he sighed, fidgeted with his fingers. He wished he had something to build. “Okay. I’ll wait for your son to get home.”

Sally relaxed, and Leo gave her a thin smile.

He helped her and Paul clean up the kitchen, put away the leftover lasagna. Sat with them and did a puzzle, played a game of Clue with them. Fixed their radio for them, much to their surprise, and then watched with a small smile on his face as Paul and Sally danced around the living room together. They tried to get him to join, but he’d never been much of a dancer, so he declined.

They bid him goodnight around 11, and he shut the door of their son’s room, let the hours tick on.

At three am, he got up, changed back into his own clothes, left the borrowed ones folded neatly on the foot of the bed. He took a flashlight from the bedside table and slid it into his backpack, stepped out of the bedroom and avoided the squeaky floorboard.

The tool kit from fixing the radio was still on the coffee table, and he picked it up with only the slightest feelings of guilt. Went through the cabinets and pulled out sleeves of crackers, a box of granola, eyed the leftover lasagna with a sad gaze. He found a roll of toilet paper under the sink, a bottle of hand sanitizer in a junk drawer.

He paused by the game of Clue, left out on the table from their match, and let his fingers trace over it sadly. His gut screamed at him to leave. His heart screamed at him to stay. He wasn’t stupid.

Leo had always trusted his gut.

He pocketed the candlestick piece and turned for the door, flinching the second his eyes landed on Sally.

Her hair was done up in a braid, her pajamas wrinkled, and the moon shining through the window reflected the sadness in her eyes. Leo opened his mouth, but couldn’t find it in him to speak – the lump was back.

She stepped forward and he shut his eyes, expecting a lecture. Instead, her hand cupped his cheek. Her other hand pressed into his, and he gasped as he felt the telltale touch of money in his fingers. He looked down at the wad of cash – he couldn’t see how much it was, but he knew that he didn’t deserve it. He looked up at her, panicking. “I can’t-”

“Stay, I know,” she whispered, and that wasn’t what he’d been planning to say, and he knew that she knew that. “I understand, Leo. I understand, sweetie.”

The sob slipped out before he could stop it, and Sally’s eyes softened. She bent at the hip, pressing a soft kiss to his curls. “When you end up meeting my son,” she murmured, “come visit, okay?”

Leo had no idea what that meant, but he nodded, if only to appease her. “I’m sorry,” he croaked.

She squeezed his shoulder. “Nothing to be sorry for, honey. Be safe.”

Sally watched him go, watched him shut the door behind him, and he looked down at the money in his hands with a choked feeling in his chest. It was more than he’d held in his entire life. He couldn’t take it, but he knew she’d be upset if he didn’t. And if there was one thing Leo refused to do, it was make Sally more upset than he already had.

So he pocketed it and, with an aching heart, stepped off the porch of the cabin. The storm from earlier had died down, and, fingers tight on his backpack straps, he started making his way up the beach.

~~

Percy was bouncing up and down at the entrance to Camp Half Blood, fingers curled around Annabeth’s hand. “Do I look okay?” he asked for probably the thousandth time that morning.

Piper rolled her eyes. “Percy, it’s your mom. She doesn’t care what you look like.”

Percy shot her a mock glare. “I haven’t seen her in over a year, McClean, sue me.”

“You look fine, Perce,” Annabeth laughed, kissing his cheek. “She’s gonna mostly care that you’re alive.”

“Okay but this tattoo-”

“Sorry, you vanished on me for over a year, crossed the globe, and you got a TATTOO?” came a very scolding, very obviously Mom Voice, and Leo snickered, turning to see who was about to absolutely whoop Percy’s ass.

And he stumbled on his own feet, lips parting as Sally (Sally Jackson, his unhelpful brain mocked) appeared at the top of the hill. Her hair was a little grayer than it had been when Leo met her, her hips a little wider, but her smile was the same, her laugh as Percy launched himself at her the same peal of delight Leo remembered on his toughest nights, and when she caught his eye over Percy’s shoulder, her smile only widened.

Okay, so sometimes Leo Valdez was kind of stupid.

[retroellie]

what about mom!ellie x mom!reader on their child's first day of school in jackson? i can picture ellie getting excited (protect her at all costs) and ofc the reader too :) a lot of fluff but also maybe u can add a little bit of smut bcs they finally have their alone time ;) but yeah something like that!!

Summary: Mom!Ellie’s kid first day of school so y’all get some alone time ;)

A/N: Thank you for the request<3 Sorry it’s rushed but this took me a bit, i hope you enjoyed it. I tried to make it cute :)

Warnings: NSFW (towards the end), use of vibrator, fingering

Word count: 5.1K

This has been the day you have been dreading for years, The day your little baby goes to school. You knew eventually you would have to let her fly on her own but it’s too soon, it seems like yesterday she only needed you for cuddles and your boobs. Now she can tie her own shoes and she doesn’t need your help pouring her milk in her glass.

You were proud of the way she grew up, you and Ellie both were so proud of her. She knew her manners, she was confident, and she was positive about the world even through everything. You were glad she had that mindset, nothing could ever dull her shine.

She was a splitting image of you with Y/H/C and Y/E/C, she even had hints of Ellie in her even if Ellie wasn’t her blood related mom. You and Ellie never denied her when she asked for toy cars and toy swords to play with. You never wanted her to hide her true self from others so whatever she wanted to be you accepted her.

“Okay you can look now mommy!” You heard a small squeak come out from behind you.

You didn’t hesitate in turning around to reveal the small girl and Ellie proudly looking down at her. You chuckled at the sight in front of you, seeing your baby matching your lover.

She was wearing a dark red flannel and a cute pair of grey jeans. Her hair was thrown up in a small messy bun (Ellie can’t do hair) and her neck was decorated with a small necklace locket.

“Oh my gosh....” you chuckled, looking down at the smiling girl.

“I wanted to dress like mama today.” She said, doing small poses.

You looked up at Ellie and she was smiling with you, Ellie was so excited for her to start school. Ellie kept you up half the night telling you about what kind of person she knew the kid was gonna be.

“I love it.” You said, reaching down and scooping the child up.

The small girl giggled as you spun and danced around the room. You danced to imaginary music, peppering her face wow her kisses . You didn’t stop until you ran out of breath and her lungs hurt from laughing so much.

Ellie came up to you both, planting a kiss on top of both of your heads; watching you two with such admiration for the two of you. You reached up to peck her lips slightly, reaching a hand out to wrap around her waist to pull her closer.

You and Ellie were still so in love with each other even with a little human getting in the way of your many nights spent wrapped up with each other. You made time for each other, sneaking around at night to try not to wake the baby, quiet showers at 3am, and banging it out on the counter before the baby woke up.

It was a rare love you two had, the love you felt for each other never fell out. You both were still like teenagers in love for the first time. You pulled away from the kiss that only lasted a few seconds but felt like a lifetime. You stared at her for a minute, watching her eyes twinkle in amazement; giving her a small smile.

“Mama I forgot about my backpack!” The girl said, wriggling down from your arms. “I don’t wanna be late for school!”

She ran into her room, her feet pattering away in the distance. You looked at Ellie once more, she shrugged her arms and chuckled. You chuckled turning over to walk over to the couch to put your shoes on, but before you could turn around you felt a slap on your ass. You turned around to see Ellie with a shit eating grin on her lips. You gave her a face that Ellie told you was you “why the fuck did you do that” face.

“What?! It was just asking for a nice slap.” She bit her lip. You shook your head at her and gave her a smirk.

“You're gonna regret that.” You said calmly, making your way over to the couch.

She smiled over at you, walking down the hall into the kitchen to gather the girls lunch. You pulled your shoes on and got up to pull your jacket over yourself. You could hear your little girls footsteps make their way back into the living room.

“Can we see grandpa Joel??? I want him to wear my outfit.” She spoke, already to go to school.

She looked so grown up, were you gonna cry when you came home today? yes, most definitely. You just couldn’t believe how big she’s gotten, nxt thing you know she’s gonna be a teenager. You hoped she wasn’t going to be like Ellie when she was a teenager back in Boston, Ellie was always causing some trouble.

“Of course!” You said handing her jacket to her. “ I think he would kill me if i didn’t let him see his grandbaby before her first day of school.”

That made her jump up and down with excitement, dancing around the room with such excitement. She kept chanting about what Joel was gonna say about her outfit, you were so glad she was going to school so she could run some of this energy out.

“Okay come on or your gonna be late.” You chuckled, opening the door and her immediately booking it over to Joel's house.

You guys still lived in the garage but it was bigger now. You guys added on more rooms when you found out you had a baby on the way. There were now 2 bedrooms, making room for a bigger kitchen and living room. You guys spent an entire summer adding onto the house and obviously the town helped out.

You loved Ellie's little garage and you didn’t want to move away from your dad, so it was decided. Ellie didn’t mind, she’s lived in some shitty places before coming to jackson. As long as you and your baby were happy, Ellie was happy.

“Well there’s my favorite girl!!” Joel greeted, setting down his guitar and standing up to scoop up the little girl running towards him.

You watched from the door, watching as your dad talked to the little one. You felt like you were looking at you and your dad instead of your daughter and joel. You remember a time when you killed your first clicker and your dad scooped you up, then checked around your body to see if you were bit but you werent. He hugged you so tightly, that was the first time you ever saw your dad cry; he was so scared.

That’s something you never want your kid to go through, you never want them to have to kill something or even someone. You had gotten numb to the feeling of it, it didn’t phase you anymore. You never wanted that to be the normal for your baby.

“I can’t believe she’s going to school.” A voice said from behind you.

Ellie came into your vision, leaning against the door next to you. She was holding the little girls backpack, evident she had forgotten it from all the excitement. You nodded, agreeing with Ellie's statement.

“yeah, next thing you know she’ll be taking care of us when we’re all old and wrinkly.” You joked, starting to walk over to the two.

“So in the next five years?” Ellie joked back.

You chuckled, walking up the stairs to gather your kid so you wouldn’t be late. Joel didn’t even notice you until the top stair creaked, he was too invested in the rambling of the little girl. When Joel and your kid came together, they were in their own little world. They were such a dynamic duo but you would always be Joel's favorite person no matter what; even if he doesn’t admit it.

“Hey kiddo.” He said, giving you a great big smile.

“Hey dad.” You smiled back. “She wanted to show you her outfit.”

“Well ain’t that right?” He looked down at the girl. The girl agreed, giving him a spin to show off her outfit.

“Yeah, she was excited.” You replied. “Hey, we should get going. we don’t want to be late.” You knew if you didn’t cut this short, these two could talk for hours.

“I reckon we don’t want that.” He stated.

You allowed them to say their goodbyes, the girl told Joel how much she was going to miss him when she went off to school. It made your heart melt, you wish your mom were here to see her too. The kid and your mom would’ve gotten along just fine.

The girl ran past you, hopping down the stairs to get her backpack from ellie. Ellie helped her put it on, knowing she had trouble with that. It was nice to see at least she needed y’all for something.

“It’s hard the first day.” Your dad spoke, causing you to turn around. “It was hard to see you and... well sarah go to the first day of school.”

His eyes started getting glossy, you and Ellie weren’t the only ones having a hard time with this change. You moved over to him and wrapped your arms around him. He wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you tightly.

“I know dad.” You said, face buried in his chest. “It’s hard but she’s gonna do great.”

The hug wasn’t long he pulled away after a couple seconds, he could’ve gone longer if he didn’t know you had to go. He blinked away his tears, not wanting to cry in front of you.

“I gotta go dad but i love you.” You said, stepping down the steps.

“I love you too kiddo.” He replied, watching as you made your way over to the kid and ellie. “Come over for dinner tonight! i wanna hear all about your day.” Joel called over to the three of you.

“We will! bye grandpa joel.” The girl shouted back.

-

-

On the way there the girl had to say hello to everyone, smiling over to the working men and women, petting their dogs when she got a chance. When y’all finally got there, her little heart dropped. She knew this was coming but now that it’s here she got really scared, all the kids made her nervous. You noticed and gave her hand a nice squeeze, something you dad did when you got scared.

To say the young girl was attached to her mother was an understatement. The teacher came up to you guys, talking you through what would happen throughout the day, the lesson plan, recess and the teaching of the ways on how to protect themselves against the world. Ellie took all the information in, you held your child while she gripped onto you dear life.

You’ve never seen a school like this before. You’ve seen the military school Ellie went too and when you first came to Jackson you went to the small high school they have. The high school basically taught you how to read and write, do math equations, all that good stuff. Most of the schools you’ve seen were gloomy and broken down, this one was filled with rainbows and kittens.

You were glad she was able to go here, most children today weren’t. You were pulled out of your thoughts when the teacher bent down to talk to the small girl, you could feel her grabbing tighter onto you.

“Hey Y/C/N, my name is miss Rosie. I’m really looking forward to teaching you.” She spoke with sugar in her voice

The child didn’t budge but instead dug her face into your stomach. The teacher looked up to you and Ellie, giving you both a small chuckle. You patted her back to see if maybe you could pry her off but she kept her grip on you.

“Hey kiddo...” Ellie said, bending down to her size. “How about mama take you in there, would you like that?”

The girl shifted around to look at Ellie, tears in her eyes. She nodded and let go of you, leaving behind a wet spot on your shirt. Ellie grabbed her hand and looked up at you, you gave her a small smile.

“How about you take her in, I’m afraid if I go in there I might never wanna come out.” You joke.

“Okay.” Ellie said, reaching over to peck your lips. “Say bye to mommy, bub.”

The girl once again grabbed on to you, pulling you into a tight hug. You hugged back, wrapping your arms around her small little head.

“Be good okay? We’ll go over to grandpa's house when you get back.” You said as you let go of her.

She gave her a sad little smile before grabbing onto Ellie’s hand. Ellie led her into the classroom, disappearing within its walls. You let out a small sigh, that was harder than you expected.

You realized what your dad said was right. It’s really fucking hard. It’s only a matter of time before she has boyfriends or girlfriends and she starts wanting to explore the world. She knew what was happening behind those huge walls that separated Jackson from the real world, but seeing it and being in it was something you dread her witness.

“The first day is always hard.” You heard a voice say from behind you.

You looked to where the voice was and saw Dina making her way up to you. She looked half asleep, evident that she had woken up not too long ago. She stopped right next to you and gave a small smile.

“The amount of times I’ve heard that today and yet it’s still not getting easier.” You chuckled, you didn’t mean to make it sound bitchy but it somehow did.

Dina chuckled with you, looking down at her feet. A gush of kids ran into the classroom, laughing and yelling. You were ready for your kid to come running out of there, loud noises made her nervous. You hoped she would do okay without you.

“I remember JJ’s first day here, it was so scary.” Dina spoke. “But it all turned out okay, plus it’s the only time you’ll have some alone time with Ellie.”

She raised her eyebrows and gave you a quick wink, making you laugh. You never would’ve thought you and Dina would be making sex jokes in a school that your children attend. It felt like yesterday that you were an awkward teen and Dina was the only friend you had in school.

“You know, I’m surprised you and Jesse don’t have more kids.” You laughed

“That makes two of us.” She joked back. “Now I’m gonna go home and pass out.”

She pulled you into a hug, giving you a nice squeeze before pulling away. Dina doesn’t look like a mom, she still looks like a teenager. You wonder if you look like a mom to people you just met, does your eyebags give it away or is it your hips.

“Thanks Dina.” You said, watching as she nodded and began to walk off.

Maybe this wasn’t the worst thing, having some alone time with Ellie; when you weren’t being parents. That didn’t sound so bad.

-

-

-

When you got home the first thing you did was clean up the mess that Ellie and your kid had made. Getting real pretty did have it’s disadvantages. You folded so many clothes your finger had started to hurt, it seemed every piece of the little girl's clothing was on the floor.

You were in your own little world, thinking about what your kid was doing right now or if she was scared or if she missed you... You tried to reassure yourself that she was doing just fine. You were pulled out of your world when two hands gripped your waist.

You didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was, the kisses to the back of your neck have you more of a clue. The soft feather like kisses pepper on your neck made your eyes flutter closed. Were you that touch starved?

“I was thinking about what we could do today since the baby’s away.” She mumbled in between kisses “I thought we could take a nice bath together hmm?”

That’s something you guys never really got to do, ever since the baby came you had to say bye to long hot baths especially ones together. The times you got alone time, just the house with each other were spent catching up on sleep.

Ellie’s hand wrapped around your body, dropping down to your waist and moving up your thigh. Her kisses lingered on your neck, your eyes fluttered closed.

“Sounds nice...” you sighed out

She watched your reaction to her touch, you were putty in her arms already. Ellie still loved hearing your pretty little moans, even if she didn’t get to hear them as much. She missed the nights when she left you screaming and shaking before the baby but now the quickies you had and the trying to get each other off as fast as you could while also trying to bathe in each other's affection; they were just so much better.

Ellie’s hands roamed your body a bit more, slightly swaying to imaginary music. The silliness of the house was rare and you guys were going to take advantage of that, Ellie was gonna make it her life goal to fill the entire house up with your moans. Her hands ran patterns down your thighs, inching closer and closer to your heart.

“As much as i’d really like to fuck you....” You mumbled, pushing her slightly away with your hip. “I don’t want it to be in my daughters room.”

Ellie chuckled, pulling away from you while stepping back. You went back to folding things, finishing what you started. Ellie watched you bend down, picking up more clothes and folding them. She wanted you now, wanted to feel close to you without a child in between you two. She bit her lip before grabbing your hand.

“Well, let's take it to the bathroom. I’ll get the bath water ready while strip for me.” She joked, pulling you by the hand into a kiss.

You smirked into the kiss, dropping the shirt in your hand on the ground. You nodded slowly telling her to take you to the bathroom. She noticed and walked to the bathroom, pulling you by the hand along with her. She busted the door open before bending down to get the water going.

You didn’t hesitate in pulling your clothes off, wanting nothing more than to get railed surrounded by nice warm water. You had already unbuttoned your pants and pulled completely off before working on getting your shirt over your head. You felt like at any moment your kid could come bursting in or come calling for you, motherhood really took a toll on you, huh.

You felt too hands on your waist once more, cold, rough hands grabbing roughly at your hips. You felt lips on your chest, taking their time when they reached your beast. You successfully pulled your shirt off, seeing Ellie suck and bite at your chest.

As much as you wanted to  admire the view you wanted her so you grabbed at her face and smashed your face into hers. She laughed at your neediness, pulling you closer to her. You were messy and sloppy with the kiss, putting your tongue in her mouth. You craved the heat from her body and affection she gave you. Only she could make you like this and she loved it.

Your hands made their way down the hem of her shirt, yanking it; hinting that you wanted it off. She pulled away momentarily to pull it over her head, you watched in anticipation. Her sports bra came into view, high lighting her toned body. The look of it just made you more wet, the wetness seeped through your underwear.

When the shirt hit the ground she was on you again, lips moved messly together in sync. Your chests were touching, heaving against each other. Her hand snaked around to your ass, squeezing the flesh roughly. Ellie was more of a boobie kinda gal but she sure did love what having a kid did to your ass.

You moaned into the kiss, hands going from her shoulders to her hips to the top of her jean button. You shake hand unbuttoned her jeans, sliding a hand into them. Your warm hand rubbing her through her underwear, she let out a surprised yelp. That egged your on, wanting to go further but she pulled away from you.

“You can’t wait till we get in the bath huh?” She spoked, She reached down to your heart, feelling how wet you were. “Needy little thing aren’t you?”

“I want you...” You spoke, voice suddenly raspy.

She bit her lip, pulling away from you completely. She turned over to the bathtub, crouching down to feel the water. She let out a small smirk, seeing how it was perfect. She got up from the tub and made her way over to you once more.

“I’ll be right back, go ahead and get in....” she said, pecking your lips before leaving the bathroom

You let a scoff out, watching the tub fill up but you did what you were told. You pulled your bra off along with your underwear, letting them both fall to the ground. You slowly got it, feeling the warmness consume you. You laid back, it had been so long since you took a bath.

The water splashing, the warmth and the sound of quietness could make you fall asleep right now if you could but the dull throb you felt in your heart irritated you. You wondered what Ellie went to get, maybe it was a toy? You knew she wanted to use that new vibe she found a couple weeks ago, maybe it was her walkman. She has to fuck you with music, ellie always kept you on the edge.

“Is mommy finally relaxed.” Ellie spoke, causing you to perk up.

She stood in the doorway, only in her bra and half buttoned jeans. She had something behind her back but you knew better than to ask. You gave her a small smile before sitting up.

“I’d be much more relaxed if momma came over and fucked me.” You said wiggling your butt slightly.

“My pleasure.” She said, pulling off the rest of her clothes.

You watched her every move, the anitpaction eating at you. You watched her boobs bounce out when her bra came off and you watched as she slid her jeans plus underwear down to her ankles. She threw her clothes by the door before jumping in with you, turning the water off on her way in.  

She didn’t hesitate in smashing your faces back together, her tongue finding its way into your mouth. You pulled her closer to you, pulling her down with you. The only thing between your naked bodies was the water, soaking your skin.

Ellie slowly laid you back, your warm skin hitting the cold bathtub. She hovered over you, lips still connected to yours. Her tongue explored your mouth like it was the first time, she was going to take her time with you. Her hands roamed your body, touching every inch of it. She loved how beautiful you were, how ever part of your body was so fucking perfect. It didn’t matter how many rolls you had or if your thighs touched or not or if you had a double chin when you laid down.

It didn’t matter to her, you were the one that carried her child all the while you still did your assignments with no trouble. She found your innocence and but also your corruption so hot. Her kisses had trailed down to your chest, spending time on creating purple bruises on your skin.

“Ellie...” You let out a breathless moan, squirming already. “Please...”

She thought she had teased you enough and because you had worked hard with the baby but also in the garden she thought she would give you what you wanted. She sat up once more, watching as you whimpered at the sudden loss. She reached over to grab her jeans, almost falling out of the tub; obviously you laughed at her clumsiness.

She grabbed her jeans, pulling a small black vibe out of them. It was one that you guys used to use but stopped once you had the baby, it was small but powerful and had you cumming in seconds. You stopped using it because it literally put you on your ass for days, plus you love the intimacy of using your hands now.

“Haven’t used this for a bit huh?” She said, sitting back in front of you

Your legs were already shaking, you could already feel the vibrations coursing through your body; That sensation will never leave you. Ellie saw how your eyes filled with lust, knowing how ready you were. She bent down to kiss you once more, your moans already becoming louder.

Her hand ran up your thigh again, not hesitating on putting her hand right where you wanted it to be. She ran her finger up your heat, causing you to gasp in her mouth. She watched as you reacted to her touch, your breath hitching and your legs self-consciously wrapping around her waist.

She stuck two fingers in, allowing her thumb to rub circles on your clit. She started slow with her actions, waiting for the perfect moment to put the vibe on your aching cunt. Your mouth locked open, causing her to trail her kisses down your chest again.

Her mouth stopped at your boobs, sucking and licking at them while her fingers worked your cunt open. You squirmed violently, the water was most likely spilling over at this point. Everything was going so fast but so slow all at the same time, she could already feel your walls clench around her fingers.

You rutted your hips up to meet her fingers, her fingers hitting your g-spot head on every single thrust. The pleasure coming from both your boobs and cunt, the steam arising from water, the sudden touch with you being touch starved could easily send you off the edge. You couldn’t believe at one time you could do this for hours and not break.

Ellie now knew this was the perfect time to turn the vibe on, so she pulled you up closer to her; sitting her down on her lap so you were straddling her. Her fingers were still sitting inside you, feeling around the spongy inside. Ellie could cum by just looking at your dripping body, the way the water dripped off your body so perfectly made her weak.

Your lip was between your teeth and our eyes were fluttering closed, your orgasm on hold since her fingers stopped pumping. Ellie turned the vibe on, the light hum filling the bathroom. Your eyes opened, watching as her hand wrapped around the small vibe. Her tattoo dancing along with the vibe, to say you were dripping was an understatement.

“You might wanna hold on to me princess.” She spoke, ripping your eyes away from the vibe.

You nodded, grabbing on to her shoulders. She gave you a small grin before pumping her fingers in and out of you once again, preparing your body for the powerful vibrations. She took her and pushed it down on her thighs, honestly afraid if you weren't fully seated you might fall over. She reached down with the vibe and placed it directly on your clit.

You almost immediately hunched over, the familiar feeling making your head fuzzy. Ellies lips attached to your neck, sucking love bits onto it. Your nails dug into her shoulders, leaving moon shaped marks on her arms. Your moans filled the bathroom, echoing throughout the house. You wondered if people outside could hear you, suddenly you were brought back to being an 18 year old with no kids; only doing assingments and coming home to be railed by ellie.

You grind your hips against her hand and the vibe, it was too much but you craved it. The knot in your stomach was building up and you knew in the next couple minutes you would be having a world shattering orgasm. You pulled at Ellie's hair, pulling her back to your lips; wanting all of her while you came undone.

Your hips rutted faster and harder, moaning loudly as you did so. The knot got tighter and tighter until you couldn’t hold it back anymore. Your grip on her hair tightened, your senses blurred as the knot snapped. You threw your head back as your orgasm ripped through you, screaming as the waves ran through your body

Ellie fucked you through your orgasm, whispering sweet nothings as you shook violently. You could swear you felt the earth below you shake and the sky boom with thunder. As you came down from you high, you collapsed on Ellie's shoulder.

She took the vibe off of you causing you to wince, you were so overstimulated. You could feel Ellie set the vibe down and wrap her arms around your waist, holding you in a hug-like position. You were barely conscious, the amount of pleasure really took it out of you.

Ellie rubbed circles on your heated, flushed skin. You could fall asleep right here if you wanted too, the warmth and the skin to skin contact lulled you to sleep. Ellie gave you a minute before she lifted you up to get you dried off, the bath was a good idea cause now she doesn’t have to clean you off.

“I was gonna make you some lunch but my legs won’t stop shaking.” You joked as Ellie dried your body off.

“You are my lunch.” She chuckled, picking up your clothes and putting them in the basket. “We could go a few more rounds before the kid gets back.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

You could feel your heart throb again, even after a orgasm that almost made you go unconscious ellie could still make you beg for more. You stood up as best as you could, wrapping the towel around you. You wobbled over to her and brought her into another kiss, literally holding on to her for dear life.

“Give me a minute before you fuck me again, i’m getting old.” You said in between a kiss.

“You’re like 25..” She chuckled.

-

-

-

(My first ellie gif <3) 

[dreamersdreamloud]

High School Lovers

AN: Planning to make a storyline out of this on AO3

Warnings: Mature

Omega Lena Luthor x Alpha Reader

————————————

First Day of School

Danvers Household

The Danvers, the famous kind family with three dashing Alphas. Eliza and Jeremiah are proud of producing three strong women alphas. The oldest (Y/N) Danvers, the most popular jock in their highschool. You're proud to be the captain and quarterback of the Midvale’s football team. The omegas from all grades adore your looks and muscles but they didn’t stand a chance since you were dating the cheerleading captain, Cat Grant.

Cat dumped you during summer break and your inner alpha felt heartbroken. She left you for Maxwell Lord, the snobby rich alpha with little or none manners. You learned to let go during the summer and focused on getting that athlete scholarship during your last year of highschool and just move on with your life. Recently you became more reckless with your alpha actions, getting into fights, not listening to your parents. You were a mess that your sisters had to watch over you, to avoid getting yourself into further trouble.

The second oldest, Alex Danvers is also popular, known for her smarts for science but also the captain of the basketball team. Alex has always looked up to you as a role model. She basically became a tough looking alpha just like her older sister. But under those tough looks, she’s soft as a teddy bear, as her girlfriend, Sam Arias, declares it.

The youngest alpha in the family is Kara Danvers. The well known ball of sunshine and kindness. People often underestimate the blonde. Her alpha side is not something to be messed with. Bigger alphas would bully the youngest Danvers but they would run for the hills if Alex and you teach them a lesson on what happens when you mess with their youngest sister. Kara loves her sisters so much but she also loves her omega girlfriend, Lucy Lane , for always supporting her.

You're happy that your sisters have girlfriends and glad that they picked the best omegas from your shared high school. You don’t have to worry about the omegas being a distraction to your sisters’ studies. Whenever they’re in heat, they know best to stay away from their alphas and sit out. Eliza is thankful to not worry about being a grandma so soon.

“(Y/N)! Wake up! Mom has been calling you for breakfast!” Alex pounds on the door of your bedroom. You groan and growl at the door.

“I’ll be there!” You yelled back. You’re glad that you have your own room. Unfortunately, Alex and Kara have to share a bedroom. Sometimes you would hear them arguing next door on the stupidest things.

“Agh. First day of senior year here we go.” You said to yourself as you push your blankets away.

***

“Sam! Can you drive a little slower?!” Lena yells at her driver. She doesn’t know why she agreed to ride with her best friend to school if her life is endangered.

“Lena. It’s our first day of being juniors. I don’t want to be late!”

“We’re an hour early! You literally just want to see your girlfriend and ride her dick in the locker rooms.” Lena huffs.

The omega is happy that her best friend is dating a popular yet caring alpha but it can be annoying to watch them tongue each other’s throats in public. Lena wishes she had an alpha to look forward to but ever since she dumped Jack, she hasn’t been able to find another great alpha.

The reason the raven haired dump the alpha is that he would often ask her to have sex. Lena felt uncomfortable and she was only 15 years old at the time and he was a senior. He was the legal age of having sexual intercourse. Lena didn’t like being pressure into having sex so she broke things off and was content when he left for college. Lena wants to pick someone special to take her virginity and hopes to find that someone soon.

Sam ease off on the gas so that her passenger doesn’t contract a heart attack. A muscle car pulls up next to Sam’s car. The car is too familiar to the omegas. They've been seeing that classic black Ford Mustang fastback all summer.

The Danvers sisters are inside that car. The oldest Danvers revs the car again, annoying the two omegas inside their own car. Sam got a bit distracted as she saw the second oldest Danvers giving her certain looks that any omega would like to see. Lena saw that Kara was shaking her head, not wanting to be part of her sisters’ reckless act.

The alpha speeds up and cuts Sam off. Sam honks at the mustang, “Jackass.”

Lena laughs, “maybe if you weren’t so distracted looking at your alpha, (Y/N) wouldn’t have cut you off.”

Sam didn’t park too far from the alphas, they both got off at the same time. Lucy from afar, ran into Kara’s arms and gave her a longing kiss for everyone to witness. Sam didn’t want to embarrass herself like that and waited for Alex to walk over to them.

“Good morning, babe.” Alex lifts up Sam off her feet and Lena gags.

Not wanting to witness their affection, her eyes fall to the older Danvers stepping out of the car last. You wore sunglasses and simple black jeans with white fitted t-shirt. You saw your sisters run to their girlfriends and you just roll your eyes at them. You didn’t bother to wait for them and just make your way inside the school campus grounds to go hang with your jock friends.

“I see that you’re checking out the oldest Danvers.” Sam teases Lena.

“Wait what? Are you seriously checking out my sister, Luthor?”

Lena can’t help to admit that you’re the most handsome looking alpha she has ever seen in this highschool and that she developed a small crush over you since her freshman year. Besides dumping Jack for pressuring sex onto her, she also did it for you. She had this little hope that would be her loving alpha but when she found out that you got together with Cat, she was broken into tears.

“You know she’s single right? Cat dumped her during the summer.” Sam informs Lena.

The raven haired already knew that from Kara. She mentally keeps tabs on the older Danvers and Kara just feeds her information not knowing that she’s helping her. During the summer break, Lena would often visit the Danvers household to hang out with Kara and Alex but you were never there when she visited. You often found yourself helping your father or out with friends during the early morning.

“I heard it first from Kara.” Lena replies to Sam.

“I’m giving you permission to go after my knot head sister.” Alex surprisingly tells her.

“Your sister doesn’t know I exist. Plus why would she want to date a small nerdy omega?”

It’s true that Lena is a nerd but she’s the most popular nerd in the whole school. She takes advanced classes, joins after programs and clubs to help boost her chances into getting into MIT. Lena is sure that you only saw her a few times ever since you met through your sisters and swears that you don’t remember her.

The school bell rings and everyone heads to their first class of the day.

During Lena’s history class, she doesn’t bother to give her full attention since she already knows everything and already did advance research of U.S history during the summer break. At the moment, Lena was thinking how it can be possible to date the oldest Danvers but it can be nearly impossible. Omegas are not known to court alphas. She wonders if she can grab the alpha jock’s attention but since she’s a Junior, she knows that she won’t have any classes with her. Lena nearly gives up on the silly idea. Maybe she’ll just need to move on.

***

It’s nearly the end of the day and Lena is looking forward to her last class, Microbiology. A class where only seniors can take but Lena’s mother, Lillian, helped talk the school board into letting Lena take the class since she already took all the other science classes and passed with A’s.

The raven haired was one of the few to arrive early and picked a seating of her choice. She picks a seat in the back to not draw much attention to herself for the semester. Lena keeps herself but checking her phone while the seniors pour themselves inside the room.

She felt a little lonely for not having friends in this class but she was content that she has classes with Sam and Alex. She also has elective classes with Kara and Winn. A few seniors recognized Lena on the way in and had a short conversation with the only junior in the class. Andrea Rojas, a cheerleader that Lena is friends with, sits before her.

The microbiology teacher who’s also the coach of the football team, starts to take attendance. It goes by alphabetical order and everyone just quieta down to hear their names be called.

“(Y/N) Danvers?!” Mr. J’onn J'onzz says out loud.

Lena’s head perks up and scans the room to find the older Danvers but apparently she’s nowhere to be found.

“Danvers?” Mr. J’onzz calls out again. He scans the room carefully and looks for anyone connected to the missing student.

“Gand! Where’s (Y/N)?”

Mike also known as Mon-El, a football player, answers, “I- um. I actually don’t know Coach.”

“Since she’s not here she better be at practice or else the whole team will be doing suicides for warm-up.” The coach threatens.

Mr. J’onzz is upset that his star player has ditched class but he resumes to take attendance and start the lecture. Lena wonders where the alpha jock went, she hides her phone under her desk and texts another senior she knows. She doesn’t want to text either of the Danvers sisters.

Lena: Mags, do you know where (Y/N) is at?

Maggie: Big D? Nope. She should be in class. Why?

Lena rolls her eyes at the older Danvers’ nickname. She can’t believe people call her that but she blushes on the reason why she earned that name. There’s been rumors going around that (Y/N)’s dick is huge and was exposed during one of the wild highschool parties.

Maggie was the one who started the nickname and decided to nickname all the Danvers sisters as well. She called Alex “Mid D” and Kara “Little D or Little Danvers.” Little did everyone know, all the Danvers have huge cocks and their girlfriends can certify that information.

Lena: She’s supposed to be in my microbio class.

Maggie: Hmm. I’ll look into it

The raven haired locks her phone and pays attention to the lecture again. It was long until Lena’s phone vibrated a text message.

Maggie: So . . Big D is getting a BJ from one of the cheerleaders.

Of course. Lena thought to herself.

“Okay class! This semester I’m going to pair you up with a partner. The project will be about collecting samples from different environments and studying what type of bacteria is out there. The due date is TBA but I suggest you start it early and not last minute. The project is worth 300 points of your grade.” Mr. J’onzz announces.

The teacher proceeds to read of the pairs of students for the project in his clipboard. The students were getting noisy as the pairs were being announced. A few were disappointed in who they got while others were filled with joy.

“Lena Luthor! You’re partners with (Y/N) Danvers!”

Lena looked up quickly when she heard her partner’s name. She sees that half of the class looked at her when they found out that their most cherished alpha is partners with a junior omega who’s known for her genius side. The raven haired caught a few omegas looking at her with disgust but she managed to ignore.

“Fuck.” Lena mumbled to herself. She can’t believe she’s paired off with her long time crush. It can’t be that bad right? She’s close with the younger sisters, doesn’t mean she can’t be friendly and close with the oldest Danvers sister as well. Or can she?

[theweasleysredhair]

One For The Road [S.B.]

Character: Sirius Black

Word Count: 2029

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Post-Azkaban Sirius is a jealous guy... especially when it comes to his girl and Snivellous.

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: I hope the requester enjoys! (requests still open, feel free to send some my way!) also yes I only named this fic ‘one for the road’ bc of the arctic monkeys song

+ + + + +

“Do you have to go back to Hogwarts this year?” Sirius groaned as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his head on your shoulder as you tried to wash the remaining pots.

“I reckon so, being a teacher and all,” you laughed, placing a pan on the drying rack. He nuzzled his face into your neck, his long hair tickling as he placed a soft kiss there.

“I’m going to miss you.”

You’d been waiting for this. Sirius hadn’t really made any comments about you having to leave, even though he and you were aware that you’d be away most of the school year, just like Harry would be. You had begun to worry about him being alone in Grimmauld Place again, especially after being around people constantly over the summer holidays.

You dried your hands on the tea towel and spun around in his arms to face him, “I’m going to miss you too. But you know you can write, and I’ll write too, and Christmas will be here before you know it. It’s only four months away.”

Sirius pushed his lips against yours for a moment, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer to him. You responded immediately, kissing back and wrapping your arms around his neck. “That’s four months too long, love,” he mumbled against your lips as he pulled away a couple inches.

“It’ll fly by, I promise. Remus said he’d stay with you in the meantime so you’re not here alone. I hate thinking about you here, especially with that bloody painting... I just want to take you with me.”

“I’ll happily jump into one of your suitcases love, just say the word and I’ll do it.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you grinned as you turned back to washing. You were just placing the last pot on the drying rack as people started arriving at the house. You placed the tea towel on the counter and slowly pulled away from Sirius’ arms - much to his dismay - to greet Remus, who was followed closely by Tonks.

“Wotcher, Y/n!” Tonks greeted as she pulled a chair out at the dining table. “Hi Tonks!”

“How are you doing, Y/n? Ready for work?” Remus asked, taking his own seat at the dining table. “I’m not doing bad, I’m half packed for the next term, still got a few bits I need to sort out but I’ll get there. You’d think I’d be a dab hand at this by now but I still end up forgetting something every year,” you said with an airy laugh and a shrug, leaning against the counter.

The sound of Walburga Black screaming in the hallway made all of you look over, Sirius sighing dramatically as he left the room to go shut her up - although not before giving your bum a cheeky squeeze, causing you to swat at him with the damp tea towel and making him chuckle.

He returned a few minutes later with Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad Eye, Arthur Weasley and Bill Weasley, who were followed closely by Severus Snape - an old school mate and colleague of yours - and finally Dumbledore.

You greeted them all with a smile, taking a couple of steps over towards Snape, who you chatted with for a small while about the year to come at Hogwarts. At some point, Sirius had sidled up to you and threw an arm around your waist not-at-all subtly, making you roll your eyes playfully at him. You turned to Arthur instead.

“No Molly today?” You asked him. He shook his head, “No no, not today, she’s with the rest of the kids, getting ready for Hogwarts. Thought it best she keep an eye on them all.” You nodded understandingly.

The rest of the meeting went off without much drama, besides the glares you saw Sirius shooting over at Snape, but that was to be expected by now, what with the whole hatred thing they had going on. You didn’t really understand it, even back when you were all at Hogwarts yourselves. And whilst you didn’t agree with the way he treated Lily the last time they spoke, you’d never personally had a bad experience with the man, and actually got on well at Hogwarts - or as best you could, anyway.

When everyone had finally left a couple of hours later, you decided to continue packing for Hogwarts, knowing it would be worse to try and rush the morning of your travels.

As you placed some of your final items into your last trunk, you turned to Sirius, who was stood in the doorway of his - or rather, your shared - bedroom, leaning against the frame with his arms folded across his chest.

“You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet, what’s up love?” You asked, raising an eyebrow worriedly. “Nothing,” he replied, not quite meeting your eyes.

You smiled to yourself and walked the short distance over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and making him automatically rest his on your hips. “Is this about Severus? Because you know I’ve told you to ignore the things he says,” you said brushing your nose against his. “Snivellous,” Sirius spat his name out, “Can say what he wants about me. What I don’t like is when he’s so close to you.”

“Ohh, you’re jealous!” “I’m not jealous.” “You’re so jealous! Oh Godric, I never even realised. Oh love, you know I adore and love you and no one else, you don’t have to worry about him. He’s just someone I have to work with. No one could hold a candle to you,” you said, closing the small gap between you and pressing your lips to Sirius’. He kissed back easily, spinning you round so you were pinned between him and his bedroom wall. “You promise?” He mumbled against your lips. “I solemnly swear it,” you teased with a laugh, finally making him crack a smile, “I’ll be back before you know it, don’t you worry.”

***

It had been nearly two weeks since you’d arrived back at Hogwarts. The students were starting to settle back in, as were the staff, and honestly you loved being there, loved your job. Sure, it was disheartening sometimes when you couldn’t see Sirius but the smiles on your students faces made up for some of it.

You’d just owled a reply to the first of Sirius’ letters for the school year, wanting to update him on your first couple of weeks back. You were also worried about him, knowing he hated being stuck in Grimmauld Place, especially when he was alone. You’d also happened to mention Snape’s idea of starting a duelling club, and how excited you were to be a part of it, loving the idea of teaching the students more magic. What could be better?

A couple of days later, you were sat in your classroom, a pile of students’ essays sat in front of you as you marked them. This was the part of teaching you didn’t like as much, but it was nice to know that nearly every student you taught had handed something in, and most were to a high standard. Not a huge surprise, considering many of your students adored your lessons, but the response was still nice to see.

You were lost in your work, when suddenly there was a knock at the door that made you look up, “Oh Professor L/n?”

Although you couldn’t help the smile that was fighting to show on your face, you exclaimed, “What are you doing here?! You could be seen - are you mad?”

The dark haired man stepped inside and closed the door behind him, “Of course I’m mad, I spent 12 years locked away. But anyway, I just came to visit my lovely girlfriend at her amazing job.”

You moved around your desk to give him a hug, “You must be careful, I can’t have anyone seeing you - did Dumbledore agree to this?”

Feeling Sirius chuckle under your embrace, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly.

“Of course not. I never asked permission. I just missed you.”

“I missed you too! It’s only been two weeks as well,” you said with a grin as you pulled away slightly to look up at him, however still staying in his arms.

“A very long two weeks. I don’t think I’m going to make it until Christmas without seeing you, I just felt I had to come and see you, I missed your pretty face.”

You looked at his ‘innocent’ face and squinted your eyes, before scoffing with amusement, “Bullshit... you were jealous weren’t you? Of Severus? Because I mentioned him in that letter?” “Of that greaseball? No way,” he shook his head but you could tell he was blatantly lying.

“You do realise I love you and only you right?”

“I know, I know. You always say and show it and I’m so lucky to have you. I just... I’m so scared you’ll realise you deserve better,” he sighed, looking down as he gently squeezed your hips, “I mean... you deserve someone who can take you out on dates and show you off to the world! I can’t do that, I’m just an old fugitive.”

“I don’t care about all that, I don’t want someone else, I want you. I deserve you and you deserve me. I love you, Sirius, and I wouldn’t change you for the world. You’re a fugitive because the ministry were incompetent - as always - with handling the entire case, but regardless, I don’t care. No one, not Severus, not anyone could take me away from you. I waited for you because I knew you’d escape and I knew you’d come back to me because we love each other. I always have, from way back when you were a bloody heartthrob and girls chased you. You used to tell me that none of them mattered because they weren’t me. Now it’s my turn to tell you that no other guy matters because they’re not you. I love you so bloody much.”

You pushed your lips to his, kissing him passionately and with as much love as you could pour into it. He kissed back, lifting you up onto your desk and nudging the papers out of the way as he stood between your legs, one hand squeezing your thigh as the other cupped your cheek. He tilted your head to deepen the kiss, licking across your bottom lip as you parted them to allow him access into your mouth. “I love you,” he mumbled between kisses. “I love you too.”

You didn’t know how long you were there, all you knew was that you were thankful no one had tried to walk in on you both - although you weren’t sure you would have noticed if they had. You ran a hand through his hair and pecked his lips again, “As much as I want to keep you here, you probably need to go before you get caught!”

“What if I don’t care?”

“I do care, I want you to spend Christmas with me, so please make sure you get home safe,” you said.

“Fine, fine, I’ll see you again at Christmas, counting down the days!” He stepped backwards, before quickly kissing your swollen lips again and then reluctantly beginning left the room.

“See you then, my love,” you called after him, receiving a loving smile in return. You just about caught a glimpse of him turning into his dog form before you took a deep breath, going to sit back down at your desk to continue marking the papers.

You’d just written down an “O” on one of them when a head popped round the door of your classroom. You looked up, expecting a fellow teacher or perhaps a student, instead being met with the cheeky grin of your Sirius Black.

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he beat you to it, his grin turning easily into a smirk as he said, “I don’t suppose I could have one more kiss for the road?”

And well... when he looked like that, who were you to deny him?

[sunflowerryvol6]

Movement - H.S

Warnings - Angst

WC - 2.4k

Hey! So I promise I don't intend to write such angsty things, but it just came to me! Hope you like it. Feedback is always welcome, and my ask box is open for requests. This might have a part two, but I'm not sure yet, let me know if you would like it. Please like and reblog. I have some more non-angsty ideas, but I'm stuck, so I'll try to work on them and put them out.

Masterlist

Today Mohini sat by the windowsill in her parent's home, silently counting fruits on the mango tree in her neighbours' yard. Teentaal played in the back. Shed, she was doing her warm-ups when she got distracted. The dark green raw mangoes were a clear sign that summer has begun in full swing. She and Harry had come down to India arguably during the worst time of the year. But this was the only time her guru(teacher) could give her the time she needed during the year. Mohini has been up since 5 am in doing stretches for a very strenuous riyaaz by herself before stepping away for class with her teacher.

Harry wasn't awake yet, he usually wakes up by around 7, and she's well into her hour-long tatkar footwork by then. She comes out to the terrace balcony to open up and use the more vacant space for chakkars (pirouettes). She sets her mat down and starts with sun salutations and some prayer. Silently working on arm movements where teentaal plays dimly in the background. She thinks back to how she and Baba would do riyaaz together. She had become a dancer because of him, of course. He was the one that pushed her to pursue her dream to become a dancer. If not for Baba, she'd have never met Harry. The same Harry who was now asleep in the room upstairs, who she doesn't want to wake up so early, which is why she pushes tatkar to the last of her riyaaz. She makes a mental note to tell him all about the time she and Jaya stole mangoes from their neighbours' yard and how she wants to show him how to do it, to recreate that memory in a way. With that thought, she goes back to working on her pirouettes.

He's not really used to the muggy heat in Mumbai, but it's not too unpleasant. They try to avoid stepping out when it's hot anyway. Today he's pleasantly lulled out of sleep by the sound of her ghungroos. This his favourite way to wake up, he thinks. That lights up an idea in his mind. He knows she'll be working on her footwork for a bit. It gave him enough time to scour through his stuff and find his latest purchase, the Exakta RTL 1000. He knew it was the right moment to take it out for a spin. A Photowalk was due, but with their conflicting schedules, they hadn't ventured into town yet. Staying close by in the suburbs, so Mohini could help out with her dance teachers classes. They did have plans to explore the city, maybe go away for the weekend, but hadn't been in a rush. They were here all throughout the Indian summer and some of the monsoon. He slowly walked down the stairs, camera in hand, ventured out into the balcony where he knew the music was coming from. He could hear her feet patter away to the rhythm of the music. Looking at her right now, he's taken back to the first time he'd seen her at the dance studio a few years ago. He'd been there rehearsing for treat people with kindness music video, and she was in the studio room right next to his, blasting Fineline. It had really caught him by surprise, so he wanted to see who was playing the music. He was met with Mohini at her finest, in a red flowy cotton tunic and loose linen pants, she had these gold bells tied to her ankles that he now knows are called ghungroos. She was performing to his song, easy to say he was in awe. The way she moved effortlessly to the music, was really a treat to watch. He stood by the door and watched her perform to the whole 6 minute song, tearing up by end at intensity and fervour her performance exuded. He knew then that he was done for. After watching her for so long, he felt obligated to tell her how much he loved it. He approached her, only for her to get really startled and then upset that he was eavesdropping. He apologised of course, but he was expecting her to recognise him, considering the song, you know? Turns out, her friend had hooked her up to a gig at an art gallery in London to do an experimental piece; and she also suggested the song. Mohini really had no clue about him. What were the odds that she would run into this international pop star in a beat-up studio in Hampstead? But that's precisely what happened. He asked her if he could attend this said performance since it was his song and all. She reluctantly agreed and told him where it was. He went there the next week, in a poor disguise, to catch the least attention possible. But he needn't have done that, because nobody cared who he was, at Akademi Dance, they were there for her. They watched in awe, tearing up just like he did that same week. He didn't need a better sign. It was love at first sight, really, at least for him. He called Jeff after that performance and had his management contact her. It wasn't that hard. She was very known with the south Asian classical dance community but tough to book. So he went back to that studio in hopes of finding her there. Today he's not ashamed to admit, that he went there consistently for 2 weeks before she showed up, surprised to see him there. He told her what he had in mind.

Today that's known as one of the most viewed classical meets western ballad performance. They had to contact the gallery to erase any trace of that performance. Mohini rechoreographed it to the music, with Harry and his inputs, though they were very few, if at all. With his audience, she had dance companies contacting from all over the world. But all Moh wanted was to stay in London and teach. The one thing he hopes, she remembers fondly, is her falling in love with him during that project. Rest is history. He went on tour for the album. She continued teaching, performing a fair bit. The two met up at different venues, depending on where the other person was.

The morning sun hitting her just right, sweat glistening her face and chest. She had a thin gold chain with an H pendant around her neck which swayed as she moved. Her hair was slightly damp, likely from the heat and her practice. Mohini's side was facing him. She was wearing a light pink tunic with loose white linen pants. He was waiting for her to turn so he could quickly capture the elation on her face that he knows is there when she's practising. "Moh! Why don't yeh give me dazzle?"

She turns when she hears Harry, quickly covering her face with her palms. "H! I'm so sweaty right now! Stop it!" she's laughing now. Having stopped dancing, he chases her around the balcony getting as many photos of her as he could. He stops when he's cornered her at the edge. Her back hit the rim of the balcony, she leaning outwards. He puts the camera on the table where her speakers are placed and locks her within his hold. Both hands on either side of her waist, she's breathing heavily now, adrenaline coursing through her. He slowly moves one finger to swipe the sweat that gathered on her exposed chest. Her breath hitches at that, taking in the look in his eyes, but she knows she can't back away now, so she takes charge, grabbing him by his face, inching closer to kiss him. Just when he thinks she's going to kiss him, she leans forward and gently nibbles on his ear, which has his knees weak. She whispers, "Think we should smoke that blunt, Jaya got us last week", and ducks under his arm, laughing as she runs back into the house. "I'll get yeh back fo' that, Moh! Just wait yeh little minx," shaking his head smiling.

That evening, Moh and Harry brought out the works. She only smoked when she felt the tension to release some of that pent up energy. Harry will use any excuse to spend some time with this girl, knowing he wouldn't get any time with her this summer. They were here for her work, after all. So he pulled out all the stops for the night, went out and got her favourite snacks, whipped up some quick salad for dinner, knowing they would be gorging on munchies. He set up a blanket on the balcony floor, brought out all the food while she showered upstairs. He had been working on some writing and recording today. They brought a bunch of their recording equipment along, so Harry could set up in her dad's study. Ever since her parents passed, her home in Bombay laid vacant for her to use whenever she pleased. Coming home to an empty house had been hard for her last year, but Harry had been there by her side through everything. Cleaning out all the supplies, arranging things, throwing out old items and keeping things that would remind her of her parents. He made it home for her that year. So when she was asked by her teacher to spend the summer here, she readily agreed because Harry would be with her, and going back home wouldn't feel so morose. The first week had just been setting up the house to their liking. They were just about getting comfortable around the house. Somehow Harry knew the terrace balcony was special for her, so that's where he'd set up their make-shift date night. She walked in, wet hair from her shower dripping all over. She was wearing one of his loose t-shirts and he was lounging in a pair of white shorts. He looked up at her, smiling softly. "How was class today? Is Madhuri doing any better?"

"Yeah, I think so, she is, but she was resting, we did some footwork with the kids, movement exercises and whatnot, and with me, we just went over some of the stuff I'd been working on back home", she smiles.

He sits down, leaning against the railing, and pats the spot next to him, silently motioning her to join him. She does so, reaching her place and leaning in to kiss him on his nose before picking up the joint. She lights it and takes a long drag from it. "I miss baba", she exhales.

He takes the joint from her, "Know yeh do, pet. D'ya want to talk about it?"

"No. I just hadn't said that out loud in so long. Felt like it was eating away at me, y'know?"

"Yeah, know what yeh mean, s'okay though, we can just sit here and take that in for a bit."

"Madhuri Ji, asked me if I'd considered coming back," she said

"Yeah? Well, yeh are here now, and we'll be here all summer." He added

"No, I think she meant moving back here, but I didn't give her an answer yet"

"Are yeh really considering that? Thought we were looking to put the down payment for that house in Chelsea when we went back?" He asked, slightly confused

"Yeah, I mean, we are, but I didn't want to not consider it. I'd be able to help her out with classes more often, work on new projects with artists that I don't get to back home, and just" she pauses ", I just wanted some time to think about it, y'know."

"Okay, well, yeh know I've got to go back after the summer, pet, if you'd like to stay for longer, that's okay, we can figure something out." He sighed. He knew Vrindavan was vital to her. She had too many memories attached to it. She thought she had time with those here, but with her parents passing away in an accident last year, it really took that opportunity away from her. So now she felt cheated of her good memories of her home. He knew she'd want to keep this place, but they'd always talked about settling in London and coming down here for her performances and to meet Madhuri. Something changed her heart, and she seemed unsure of their plan to settle in London.

He kissed her softly and put an arm around her, bringing her close to him, "We'll sort it out, darling. Baba and Ma are going to be with yeh no matter what."

That conversation ended with them lazily passing the joint, munching on the snack laid out. Both of them passed out contently in each other's arms out in the open terrace that night.

Come monsoon that year, Moh decided she wouldn't go back to London, so she sat on her bed, watching the love of her life pack away all his stuff to leave for his home the following day. The yellow light of their room fell on him, which only made him look more beautiful. She realised how much she would miss watching him play her his new songs sitting in the same spot he sat now. Rain poured mercilessly, almost as if Bombay was weeping at the state of their relationship. She didn't want this to end, but she also couldn't leave the only semblance of her father behind. She wanted Harry to stay, desperately hoping he would make it work, but she also knew that wasn't rational. He couldn't fly back and forth so often, it would be detrimental to his health. So she turned her face away to wipe the tears that lined her waterline.

"I wish you'd at least consider coming back with me. If yeh still don' like it there, you can come right back, Moh" his voice shaky, she knew if she listened to him any longer, she wouldn't be able to hold her sobs back. So she looked at him with this vacant look, tears brimming in her eyes. "I'm not ready for that yet, Harry. I don't think I will be. It's not fair to you."

"Okay then, if you change your mind, know I'll be waiting for yeh, pet" he wipes away a lone tear and goes back to packing.

The following day she waves Harry goodbye and rushes to the balcony terrace to watch him go gently twisting the H hanging from her neck. The mangoes are long gone, so is the light from those summer mornings.

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

veracity - v. dunn

As promised, here’s one of our many resident himbos, Vince Dunn, in “I didn’t realize wer were dating.” As I’m sure a lot of other writers have experienced lately, reblogs have definitely been down, so I would love it if you’d give a reblog if you like it. I also read the tags! Alternately, feel free to keysmash in my inbox or let me know what your favorite parts were. 

word count: 4.9k+

warnings: light sexual content (brief)

Aly Kalinski had never bothered leaving her home town. Why would she? She loved St. Louis. She was born there, went to public schools in the city, and barely moved ten miles away from home for her art degree at SLU. For all its faults, she loved her city. Aly met Vince her sophomore year of college, an accidental run-in at her favorite sandwich shop that had turned into a friendship that had turned into a relationship. So it was a no-brainer decision for Aly to stay once she graduated, getting a position teaching middle and high school art at a school in the suburbs and a loft in downtown. She didn’t want to leave her parents, or her city. Or Vince. 

They had just gotten together, and it really hadn’t come as a surprise to anyone but them. Her older sister rolled her eyes when Aly told her, saying that “it was only a matter of time. You two practically act like an old married couple already.” Her parents were shocked even less. Vince’s teammates had actually been some of the biggest perpetrators in the first place, not-so-subtly leaving them in rooms together at parties and encouraging Aly to admit the feelings she wasn’t even sure she had until a few months ago. But it had happened organically, so naturally that Aly really couldn’t even put a pin on the point where their friendship had turned into romance. All she knew was that she was falling hard for Vince Dunn, and for once in her life, she wasn’t trying to stop herself. 

September

Clashing teeth and her hands running through his hair and his fingernails digging into the backs of her thighs was all Aly felt as Vince held her up against the door. “Vin, bedroom,” Aly gasped, pulling away for air. 

“Mhm,” he said absentmindedly, his lips trailing kisses down the column of her neck as her legs wrapped around his waist. He walked backwards into his room, dropping her down on the bed. She fumbled with the buttons on her shirt as he frantically pulled his belt off. God, it had been too long since they had touched each other. Vince had only recently returned to St. Louis for training camp and the start of pre-season, but he had been so exhausted from drills and scrimmages that all he could manage on nights they got together was curl into Aly’s side with some take out and turn on reruns of Kitchen Nightmares. She had visited him in Toronto for two weeks in July and August — it didn’t always work out so perfectly, but she was thankful that teaching meant most of her summers were free — and they had obviously had sex while they were there, but she had been missing it more than she wanted to admit. Missing him. 

So when they went out to a downtown bar with the rest of the team to celebrate the end of training camp, and Aly didn’t have work the next day, they were both more than happy to indulge in a little liquid courage. Which meant a couple of  drinks and a few more flirty touches later and the pair made their excuses to the rest of the group, Vince pulling up his Uber app before they were even out the door. And they weren’t exactly subtle about it  — Sammy had definitely shouted “USE PROTECTION” while Vince threw him a middle finger  — but they they needed each other too much to really give a fuck. 

Vince trailed his fingers up her now-bare sides, the clasp of her bra falling open with a well-practiced flick. Aly palmed him over his jeans, trying half-heartedly to reverse their positions. Vince groaned. “Not tonight, baby. I need you.” Well, it’s not like she was going to argue with that. Her leggings came off in record time. His jeans followed. Aly dropped her head into the crook of his neck as he slid into her. God, they could do this a million times and she’d never get used to how good he felt. “You’re fuckin’ incredible, Aly, you know that?” Vince gasped out. 

She pressed a kiss onto his shoulder. “You might've mentioned it once or twice, but feel free to keep going, Dunn,” she said. 

He quickened his pace. “I will.” Ten minutes and two orgasms later, she was wrapped in Vince’s arms, trying to savor every last moment before she had to get up and use the bathroom. “I meant what I said, you know?” Vince said, one hand carding through her hair. “You really are incredible, Aly. And when we’re together…” He paused, searching for the right words. 

“There’s only a few things in my life that have always come easy. Hockey, never being able to say no to ice cream, and you. I never feel like I have to be anyone other than exactly who I am when I’m with you, and I don’t know if you know just how meaningful that is for me. I need it, and I need you.” Aly smiled, turning over and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. This was the closest he’d gotten so saying he loved her, and she’d take it. 

January

Aly sipped her champagne, her eyes surveying the downtown St. Louis ballroom where she found herself on a Saturday evening. Her free hand fingered with the sequin-adorned cloth of her dress, brushing up against the thigh-high slit. It wasn’t something she would have ever bought for herself, but she loved it. It caught the light like nothing she’d ever seen and Vince’s jaw had nearly fallen off the second he saw her when he picked her up for the gala. He had bought it for her, too, insisting that if he had invited her the least he could do was spare her the expense of going out and buying one on her own.

Her job paid well for a teacher, especially one in their first few years, but she wasn’t about to complain when Vince gave her his card and sent her into the shopping district to find a dress for the night. He had told her to get something stunning, and she had delivered in spectacular fashion. It was the Blues’ big fundraising gala for the year, an annual charity event to benefit the children’s hospital. Essentially, the night was an opportunity to party on the team’s dime while wining and dining Midwestern elite in a bid to get them to open up their checkbooks. It was something that Alexandra Kalinski was proving surprisingly adept at; even though she didn’t have nearly the rapport with some of the businessmen and philanthropists as most of the players and their partners did, she was able to turn on the same “teacher” charm she used on back-to-school nights, lay the accent on a little thicker than she usually would, and tug at the heartstrings of multi-millionaires with a story of a seventh grader in one of her intro painting classes who had been treated for leukemia in the hospital’s oncology ward. They couldn’t write the checks fast enough. 

But Aly found herself at the bar a few hours in, next to Sammy as Vince smooth-talked someone she vaguely recognized as an exec for the Cardinals. Transitioning from friendship to being a couple, at least in regards to their social lives, had been much easier than she had thought. It had all just been so natural that people probably wouldn’t have even noticed if it hadn’t been for the looks she gave him, or her now-permanent spot on the “good chair” in the family box — that everyone else claimed was too lumpy but Aly swore up and down was the most comfortable place in the whole room  — or the time Colton had walked in on them hooking up in a supply closet at the Enterprise Center during a wine tasting with season ticketholders. But she had loved everything in their relationship so far, loved how welcoming all of the other WAGs were and how happy everyone had been for them when they finally got together. “God, it was about time,” Sammy had said. 

She could see that the person Vince was talking to had started making his way over to the reception table, where all the donations were being collected, and caught his eye just as he was being swept into yet another conversation. Vince liked people, there was no doubt about it, and he loved being able to help out a cause as incredible as the children’s hospital, but after almost four hours of schmoozing and small talk it was beginning to take a toll on even him. Aly gave him a tiny nod, a signal that anyone else probably would have missed, but one that Vince understood instantly. She was coming to get him. Alexandra was by his side in thirty seconds flat, her hand resting between his shoulder blades while she smiled apologetically to the man across from them. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got a headache and have had a bit too much to be driving myself home. Would you mind taking me?” 

Vince nodded, trying to keep his enthusiasm dampened. “Of course, babe. No problem.” He gave the businessman his best PR smile. “Sorry to have to leave so abruptly, but duty calls. Thank you so much for coming out tonight and supporting such a great cause, it really means a lot to me and the whole team.” With a perfunctory handshake, they began heading towards the exit, his hand gripping hers as they wove through the crowd. “Thanks for that, Aly,” he said as he opened up the passenger door for her. “I really was running on empty there.”

She smiled softly back at him. “Always.”

May 

Vince’s arm was draped casually over the back of Aly’s chair, his fingertips dancing over her shoulder. She was beaming up at the couple under the flower-covered wedding chuppah at the end of the aisle, leaning into Vince’s side. Her cousin Olivia was getting married, her and her soon-to-be wife Yara had been together for years and had finally decided to take the next step. When she got the invitation four months earlier, she hadn’t hesitated to invite Vince as her plus one. They had been dating for a little under a year by that point, but seeing as how most of her family was local — some of her mom’s family was in Wisconsin, but nobody really aside from that — he had already met everyone important. 

The ceremony went by in the blink of an eye, Yara and Olivia broke the glasses, and everyone began milling over towards the barn for the reception. Olivia and Yara had already met Vince some six months before, and had immediately taken to each other. The brides came over to their table after thanking everyone for coming, and dinner was served. She had never seen anyone eat as many dinner rolls in one sitting as Vince did.

---

“Alexandra!” Aly heard an excited voice from the other corner of the room over the cacophony of the music, and barely turned her head quickly enough to see who had called her name before she was pulled into a warm hug. 

Aly laughed when she saw who it was. “Nice to see you, Aunt Ruth. Aunt Ruth, this is Vince. Vince, this is my Aunt Ruth,” Aly said, gesturing to the woman across from them. 

Vince held out his hand, but Ruth waved it off. “We’re huggers here, Vince. She brought you to the wedding. You’re practically family.” She raised her eyebrows at the couple. “When’s it going to be your turn, hm?” 

Aly groaned. “Aunt Ruuuth.” 

Ruth shrugged. “I’m just saying. Your bubbe’s not getting any younger, and I’m sure she’d love to see some of her grandchildren with kids of their own.” 

“How about we, uh, get off of that subject,” Aly said, her cheeks burning. “That’s up to this one, after all,” she said, patting Vince on the arm. Vince ducked his head, understanding the grip of Aly’s hand on his arm as I love this woman but I swear to God if you don’t get me out of here I think I might combust.

He smiled apologetically to the older woman, feigning a glance at his watch. “The ceremony was amazing, Ruth, but I think I’ll have to be taking Aly home now. We’ve got early breakfast plans tomorrow and I’m sure you know how this one gets when she doesn’t get a full night of sleep.” Aly squeezed his hand in appreciation. 

“Of course,” Ruth said, smiling at the pair. She winked as they turned towards the door. “But think about it.” 

Aly ran her hand through her hair as soon as they turned the corner into the dirt parking lot. “Thanks for that, Vin. We don’t have breakfast plans, though?” 

Vince shrugged, an impish smile on his face. “Guess we do now.”

October

“I bought that tea you like,” Vince said from his spot on the couch. “I didn’t want you to be over here while you’re looking after Henry and run out.” Henry was Vince’s rottweiler, a rambunctious eleven month old that he had adopted at the middle of last season. 

Aly smiled as she opened the cupboard, seeing her prized brand of Irish Breakfast next to his favorite type of coffee. “Thanks for that, Vin.” 

He shrugged as the corner of his mouth twitched. “Don’t mention it.” 

The Blues were about to leave for their first real road trip of the year, and it was an unspoken agreement by this time in their relationship that Aly would stay over at his apartment while he was away. Early on in the relationship, she’d just stop by a few times a week to water his plants, and then he got a few fish, and then Henry came along. It didn’t take much convincing from Vince for Aly to agree to look after them; Henry loved her almost as much as he did Vince, and getting to see him before and after school helped to curb some of the loneliness she felt in Vince’s absence. 

She turned down the hallway, taking her bag into his bedroom. He had a guest room that would have been just as convenient to stay in, but she had grown used to the feel of his sheets and liked having the ensuite bathroom. Plus, she had already not-so-subtly taken over one of the drawers in his dresser. Her bag had the jeans, button downs, and blouses she’d need for work — her school mostly adhered to a smart casual dress code, plus she was an art teacher — but there were plenty of sleep shirts, underwear, and leggings in the dresser. If push came to shove, she also wasn’t above stealing Vince’s old sweatshirts. He always said she looked better in them anyways. 

Even when Vince was back in town, she slept over enough for it to make sense for her to have a space of her own; it just wasn’t practical for her to have to drive fifteen minutes to her apartment and back again just to grab a shirt if she wanted to spend the night after a movie date ran long. They hadn’t broached the conversation of moving in together yet, though. It was something that had crossed Aly’s mind, and if she knew Vince as well as she thought she did, he had thought about it too. But she wasn’t in a hurry to break her lease and he hadn’t said anything about it, so she had decided to let sleeping dogs lie. 

She tucked her bag into the corner of his closet, padding into the bathroom and closing the door. She cursed herself as she pulled down her shorts, realizing that her period had started and, conveniently, her purse was out in the living room. Biting her lip, Aly decided to rummage around in the vanity, praying to God that she’d left something from the last time. It wasn’t like she thought Vince would be weird about it if she asked him to bring her something from her purse; he never had been before, even when she had bled through a pair of his sweats one night staying over. “Not a big deal,” he had said, shrugging and tossing them in the washing machine. “I needed to do laundry anyway.” But she’d rather not ask if she didn’t have to. She crossed her fingers as she pulled out the last drawer, her head turning to the side in confusion as she saw an unopened box of tampons. Her eyes softened in realization. He had bought them without her ever having to ask. 

January 

It was bye week for the Blues, which meant everyone who hadn’t been picked for the All Star Team suddenly had an extra week in the middle of the season and nothing to do to fill it. Or, rather, had a week in the middle of the season and had to find something to do to fill it. In Vince and Aly’s case, that something turned out to be a trip to the Bahamas with some of his teammates and their wives. It had been a no-brainer for him to invite Aly; everyone else was bringing their partners and Vince knew she had a few vacation days saved up from work. They had been planning it for months, Aly having requested the time off as soon as she was able, and had blissfully traded in the chilly winters of Missouri for a balmy week on the shores of Nassau.

Vince had wanted to go to Iceland originally, half to do with the hiking and half to do with the ponies he saw in a National Geographic article as a kid, but one Google search from Sammy led them to the unfortunate realization that being so far north, there were only about six hours of daylight each day and the temperature topped out in the mid 30s. Vince looked a little deflated when he read the forecast. “Don’t worry,” Aly had said, squeezing his arm in reassurance. “We can go in June, after school lets out and before you head home for the summer. I’ve heard amazing things about their hot springs.” Sammy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Aly hit his shoulder. 

But the Bahamas were proving to be one of the most beautiful places she had ever been. “Better than home?” he asked as they lay stretched out on the sand while they watched the sun dip below the horizon. 

She scrunched her nose at him. “Unfair comparison. St. Louis is hovering around freezing and perpetually covered in a layer of slush this time of year. And, to be fair, it’s an endearing layer of slush and I love it. But right now I think I’d rather be where it’s 75º and sunny and I can lay outside looking hot as hell in a bikini without worrying about freezing my tits off.” 

Vince choked on his rum punch. “Worried about that, are you?” 

Aly shrugged. “I’d rather deal with a sunburn. Which, speaking of,” she glanced over at Vince, “you’re looking a little red. Don’t worry, though. I’ve got as much aloe vera as I could pack in a single quart bag. Would have tried to sneak in a whole bottle, but didn’t want the feds after me.” 

Vince laughed, a whole body laugh that all but consumed him for a few moments, before pulling Aly in to rest against his chest. “I’m really happy you came, Aly. You know that, right?” 

“Why wouldn’t I? All-expenses paid trip to the Carribean with you and our friends, getting to hang out on the beach all day and drink cocktails without having to worry about driving home after?” 

Vince gasped in mock offense, the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her waist coming to clench at his heart. “You’re killing me here, Aly! You mean to tell me this whole time you’ve only been using me for my money? I expected more from you.” 

“Not just your money, Vin,” she giggled, settling into his touch. “I tried to pay for my share of the expenses, you wouldn’t have it. But seriously, I do really love it here. It’s gorgeous, and so peaceful, and there’s really not anything I think we could do to make it better. I love you, Vince Dunn.” 

“I love you too, Aly Kalinski.” 

April 

“One sec, I’ve got to go grab something,” Vince said, smiling at Aly as he pushed his chair back from the table. It was the day after he had come home from a two week road trip, and he had invited her over for dinner, told her to dress nice, and made what actually turned out to be a very respectable dinner of ravioli and roasted vegetables. 

She nodded as her heart started to pound faster and faster, coming to a peak when she thought her chest was going to burst as Vince returned from the bedroom, turning a blue velvet box over in his hands. “I know it might seem unexpected, but I saw this the other day while I was downtown with Sammy and I don’t know, just somehow knew you were meant to have it. Knew it was meant to be yours. Something I hope you’ll see as a sign of how much I love and care about you and how even though we might not always physically be together, you’re the person I trust most in this life.” 

He slid the box across the table to Aly, who opened it with shaking hands. Inside was a silver necklace with a pendant of an olive tree on it. It was absolutely gorgeous — and Vince was right, very her — but it was not what she had been expecting.

Aly snorted, burying her face into her hands. “Oh my God, I’m going to have to call my mom.” 

Vince was confused. “Why?” 

Aly rolled her eyes. “I told her I was coming over here for dinner and you told me to dress nice. She thought you were going to propose.” 

“Propose?” Vince asked, dumbfounded. “Why would I propose?” 

She tried to wave him off, but Vince could see the shimmer of hurt behind her eyes. “I mean, we’ve been together for almost two years. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility.”

“Together?” He looked over at her. “For two years?” 

“Yeah?” she said slowly, thinking he had forgotten their anniversary. “Come June, two years.” 

Vince swallowed hard as it began to dawn on him, looking down at his hands. “Together...She thinks we’ve been together for,” he looked up at the ceiling, “twenty-one months.” 

“You keep repeating that word, babe. Together. What’s confusing about it?” Aly said, giving him a weird look.  

God, how was he supposed to tell her? “I didn’t know we were together. Are together? Let alone that your mom was expecting a proposal.” 

Aly’s blood ran cold. “Let me get this straight,” she said, pausing. “You didn’t know we’re together? What did you think we’ve been doing for almost two years?” 

“Being really good friends?” 

She shook her head. “Why did you tell me to dress up when I came over, then? Why did you make dinner?”

He fixed his eyes on a chip in the coffee table. “I knew you’d been having a rough week and I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“What about the vacation?” She questioned.

He shrugged helplessly. “Everyone else was going in couples, and you’re my best friend down here regardless.” 

“Me coming to all the games? Sitting up in the box?” 

“You’ve become friends with all the WAGs, and I love having you there to support me,” he tried. 

“The sex?” Aly asked incredulously. 

Vince winced. Okay, that  one was a little harder to explain away. “I just always thought that we were both single, both hot, both too busy to get into relationships. Each other’s best options.” 

God, Aly felt like a fucking fool. She felt like she’d been played, because in a weird, sort of twisted way, she had. “You said you thought it was because we’re both too busy to be in relationships now. But Vince, I know you have no think energy out your ears, but I need you to concentrate for a minute. Think about most couples you know. They get together a few times a week if they don’t live together. We do that.” He nodded. 

“They have a drawer or a part of a closet at each other’s places, they look after each other’s plants and dogs when they’re out of town. We do that. They become friends with each other’s friends, they visit each other’s families, they take weekend trips together and fly to the Bahamas with friends when they have a week off. We did that.” She looked up at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “They dance around in the kitchen together and make love and go to the zoo at least once a month because I love seeing the otters. They comfort each other when they’re at their worst, encourage each other at their best. You said you didn’t have time for a relationship, but you didn’t realize that that’s what we’ve been doing, Vince.” 

Now it was Vince’s turn to be struck speechless. Aly wasn’t meeting his eyes. And honestly, he couldn’t blame her. He turned to look at her, but she had stood up abruptly from the couch, pacing nervously as she slowly made her way to the door. “I, uh, I think I should go,” she said, looking down at her hands. 

Vince stood up, taking a half step towards her before deciding that it was best to give her space. “No, Aly, you don’t have to go. We can talk. I think —”

“No, I think. I think you don’t feel the same way, and I’ve been misreading things for two years. And that’s fine, I can’t force you to fabricate feelings that aren’t there, so um. I’ll go,” Aly said, shaking her head stiffly. She opened the door and shut it, and Vince was suddenly stuck in the loudest silence he’d ever heard. It was like he couldn’t move for a minute, as if all of his muscles were paralyzed, and then he came back to reality. Aly had only been gone for maybe a minute at most, but it felt like an hour. 

Vince bolted out of the door, not even bothering to lock it, running straight past the elevator. Stairs would be quicker. He caught her just as she was exiting the front door, one of her hands coming up to wipe a stray tear off her cheek. “Aly!” Vince called. She hesitated for a moment but kept walking. Vince ran across the lobby, not even caring about his complete lack of shoes. “Aly! Wait up, please.” 

She turned around, eyes watering, and sighed, walking over towards one of the chairs with a defeated look on her face. She didn’t even sit down, just perched on the arm like she wasn’t quite comfortable with actually settling in, like she needed to be able to up and leave at any given moment. “Please, Vince. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. I’m not mad at you for not feeling the same way, it wouldn’t be fair of me and people can’t control their feelings, but I feel like a fucking idiot right now. Like I spent so long misreading all sorts of signs and signals and words —”

“What if you didn’t?” Vince asked breathlessly. 

Aly looked startled. “What do you mean?”

“What if you didn’t misread anything, Aly? What if you didn’t have to be mad at me for not feeling the same way, because I do?”

Aly sunk into the chair, her eyes meeting his for the first time since she had left his apartment. “Then why...Why did you not say anything? How did you not know we were in a relationship?”

Vince ran a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. “Because I thought that’s all you were going to give me. And if that was it, that was enough for me,” he smiled sadly. “I thought everything, the sex and the wedding and the Bahamas, was just me being a good friend and you needing a stress relief and someone who’d always be in your corner. I never knew this was supposed to be a relationship. I didn’t think you wanted anything serious. And I had resigned myself to that, come to terms with only getting stolen kisses on late nights and early-morning coffee runs before you had to head to school. If I only got you halfway, I was okay with it, because I love you and that was better than nothing.” 

“You what?” Aly’s breath caught in her throat. 

“I love you,” Vince said. It was the easiest thing he had ever admitted. Because it was true. 

He had told her he loved her before, but as Aly searched his face, she could tell that he meant it in a different way. In the way she always wanted him to. “You love me?” she asked, voice cracking. 

Vince nodded. “I do. I’m in love with you. And you don’t know how good that feels to admit.”

Aly gave an airy laugh, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear before Vince had a chance to get it for her. “I think I might.”

“I’ve just got one question, though,” Vince asked. 

“Which is?” 

He cracked a smile. “You’re not going to make us change our anniversary date, are you? It would be pretty weird to explain to everyone and I really don’t want Aunt Ruth to find out and show up at my door to chase me around with a chainsaw.”

Aly giggled, leaning over and placing an exhilarated kiss against his lips. “No.”

[mayraki]

“the right path” - jj maybank

popeheywrd’s gif!

summary: two strangers start to expierence the déjà vu effects often. the only thing that they aren’t noticing is that it only happens when the other one is around.

MASTERLIST

check out my current jj maybank x oc series! -> “don’t mess with the troublemakers”

Some people don’t like to believe in destiny. They think that each one of us has to work hard for what we want and that’s how it’s going to come into your life. Not because the universe has a plan for you, hard work and passion is what garantes you a proper and happy life. She didn’t think that was a half wrong, you do need to work hard, but is nice to have a little bit of fun in life and think that there’s something else out there than just living. There has to be something out there, something that explains the things that happens to you or what you go through.

But, wondering didn’t stop her from living every day like it was the last one and embracing every little thing that happened to her without stopping and asking herself why. She was always having fun on the beaches of Outer Banks with her best friends, or just walking around going nowhere. Summer was there to be enjoyed, so she was going to enjoy every little second.

“C’mon! It’s the first party of the summer! We can’t miss it!” She said to her best friend, while the two of them were walking to the beach on the morning of that Saturday.

“You go, tomorrow I have to wake up early. Mom wants me help on the store since summer started.” Her friend said before shrugging her shoulders and letting out a big sigh.

“You’ll get back to your place early, I promise you!”

“I want to go. But you have to convince my mom, you know if I ask her she won’t let me.” She said once the two of them walked into the beach and her feet touched the warm sand.

“You got it!” She turned around to face her and walk backwards. “You know your mom loves me.” A smile appeared on her face but when she stared to look around and every single detail her eyes were seeing were familiar, she quickly stopped.

“Are you alright?”

“I don’t know.” She said while looking around. “I’m having a déjà vu.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, oh my god, why isn’t it stopping?” She started to walk backwards again to try to stop.

“Wait! Be carful Y/n!” Her friend yelled but it was too late, her back had already hit a wet body. She quickly turned around while the déjà vu was still going, but as soon as her eyes locked eyes with a pair of blue ones, the feeling went immediately away.

The blonde guy she was staring at had the same surprise expression she had. Since his body was wet she figured he had been in the water, he was holding a surfing board while still making eye contact with her.

“JJ!” She heard a guy say behind him.

“I’m sorry... for bumping into you.” He said still surprised.

“It’s my fault, I was walking backwards.” She said shaking your head.

“Me too.” A little smile appeared on his face while the guy that called him before, appeared next to him.

“You ready to go bro?” He asked.

“Yeah man, let’s go.” He said without breaking eye contact with her. “Sorry, again.”

“Me too. Have a nice day!” She said when he and his friend started to walk away.

“What was that?” Her friend asked when she walked closer to her.

“I have... no idea. But it was fucking weird.”

“Tell me about it, from where I was standing, for the way you two looked at each other it looked like two friends who reunited after 40 years of being separated.”

She turned her head to her friend confused. “You need to stop watching romantic movies.”

“Why are we here again?” JJ asked once he and Pope entered the store.

“Kie gave me a list of things to buy for the party tonight.” He said while checking the little paper he had on his hand.

“What is there to buy? We already have everything, beer, some blunts, that’s it.” JJ shrugged his shoulders but Pope didn’t answered, he was already walking more deep into the store. JJ followed him but he was not paying attention to the shelves next to him, he was looking down while his fingers were playing with his lighter.

“Do you think this is it?” Pope asked him while showing some bag of chips. He looked up and just nodded uninterested.

“Hey! Y/n! Wait up!” JJ and Pope heard coming from the other side of the store.

“Shit, it’s happening again.” JJ said after his eyes started to recognise every single detail that they were seeing. Like it was happening for the second time.

“What?” Pope asked confused.

“I’m having a déjà vu.” He said looking around trying to brush it away.

“Is it over?” Pope asked but JJ shook his head. He started to walk away getting worried because it was not ending. Usually, when it happened to him it lasted seconds, and it was not like he got them often, but for some reason this couple of days he was getting them more and more, and they were longer.

“JJ, where are you going?” Pope asked once JJ was getting closer to the end of the aisle.

“I don’t know-”

“Y/n, is it happening again?” JJ heard close to him.

“Yeah, what the fuck-”

JJ suddenly stopped when he saw the girl from that morning. She was was facing him backwards but it wasn’t difficult for him to recognise her. The feeling of weirdness around him was slowly going away but when she turned around and they both locked eyes with each other, it completely went away.

“Hi again.” She said with a smile.

“Hi.” That’s all JJ could say. The déjà vu went away but the weird feeling was still there, the feeling of something else going on.

“This is weird.” She said softly without breaking the eye contact with him. She was still wondering what was happening to her. It wasn’t common and the fact that the both the times it happened, the blonde guy was there.

“Weird in a good way or a bad way?” JJ asked.

“Still trying to figure out.” She nodded looking around for her best friend. “Uhm, I lost my friend. See ya.” She gave him a little wave before walking away and leaving JJ there, with questions on his mind.

“I mean! You have to be honest with yourself! It happened to you two times today and the blonde guy was there. Coincidence? I don’t think so.” Her friend said while she was looking for something to wear to the party on her tiny closet.

“That’s some movie shit. I probably have low iron or something like that. I’m going to google it.” She said when her back hit the bed.

“I already did.” Her friend said and a little smile escaped her mouth.

“You’re always a step ahead.”

Her best friend joined her on the bed. “It said a lot of things. But what caught my eyes is that maybe, it means that you’re going on the right path in life.”

“What does that mean?” She asked confused before sitting down.

“Think about it! “The right path”? C’mon, it has to be with the blonde guy!”

“Huh? I’m not following you.”

“Y/n! It means that that guy is your right path!”

She furrowed her eyebrows confused and then shook her head. “You seriously need to stop watching romantic movies.”

“The universe wants you two to meet. That’s why you get déjà vus and they stop when you see him. It’s obvious!” She lifted her arms into the air.

“You’re crazy!” She got up from the bed. “Let’s just say that the universe wants me to meet this guy, why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s your soulmate.” She said quickly.

“That’s it.” She said after shaking her head. “You’re binging all the Marvel movies with me. No more romantic ones!”

She loved the loud music. How her body moved to the rhythm, and the slight air blowing around her body. Parties on the beach was her favorite thing to do on the summer, surrounded by friends and having the best time. Nothing was ever wrong.

She noticed her cup being empty so she waved to her best friend letting her now that she was going to get it refilled.

As soon as she turned around, she locked eyes with an old friend.

“Kie!” She yelled.

Kiara Carrera. Her family owned The Wreck, one of the most famous restaurants for tourists, they both met when she worked for her father on the restaurant as a waitress, but soon having to let it go since it was too much for her and her other job. But on the little time she was there, they both became good friends and loved every single moment they spent together as co-workers.

“How have you been?” She asked once they broke the tight hug.

“I’ve been doing great! Well, at least since summer started.”

“Things aren’t going so well at the Kook academy?” Kie shook her head. “Don’t worry, I’m here to save your horrible days.” She let her arm go around her shoulders before leading her to the dance floor where her best friends was.

The three of them were dancing like there was no tomorrow. They looked like three drunk girls since they started to dance weirdly, but the truth was, they were having the time of their lives and not worrying about anyone around them. But when their feet couldn’t anymore, Kie let her arms go around the other girls’ shoulders and walk them to the side of the beach.

“C’mon, I want you two to meet my friends.”

“Please tell me you didn’t meet that at the kook academy.” She said with a disgust expression.

Kie let out a tiny laugh. “Only on my worst nightmare. No, they’re cool.”

While the girls were walking to the where the boys where, JJ and John B were teaching Pope how to roll the perfect blunt.

“No dude!” JJ yelled. “You have to lick it just a little bit! Not lick it until you no longer have saliva in your mouth!”

“Alright! Alright!”

“Now gently roll it with your thumb.” John B said. “I said gently!”

“Not so fast!”

“You want to break it?!”

“Seriously guys, you would be great teachers.” Pope said sarcastically.

“Hey guys!” The three guys heard Kie yelled behind them.

JJ blinked but when he opened his eyes he had the same weird feeling of déjà vu. “Fuck, not again.”

Some guys were yelling because they just won a game of beer pong so she turned around to see where the noise was coming from, but quickly stopped when the same feeling appeared.

“Are you having it again?” Her friend asked. She nodded. “Alright! Come here!” She grabbed her arm and quickly pulled her friend to JJ, who was weirdly looking around like she was.

“Is everything ok?” Kie asked when she saw how the two girls quickly walked to her friends.

The moment JJ and her locked eyes with each other when her friend positioned her in front on him, the déjà vu went away like a spelling breaking.

“Is it gone?” Her friend asked.

She slowly nodded. A little smile appeared on her face while he was confused on why every déjà vu always disappeared when the girl showed up.

“Shit.” She softly said.

“This is Y/n. And you are?” Her friend asked for her.

“JJ.” He said with a smile while shaking her hand.

“Nice to finally meet you.”

“Weirdly, it doesn’t feel like this is the first time I met you.” JJ said and she let out a tiny laugh.

“Oh, this is perfect.” Her friend said softly with a smile on her face while the rest of the pogues were staring at the situation confused.

Maybe her friend was right. Maybe the universe was trying to tell them something. It wanted them to meet. They couldn’t deny it, the fact that they both had the same weird feeling when the other was around couldn’t be coincidental. Maybe, everytime they were around, everytime they touched each other or the looked at each other, it was, in fact, their right path.

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[astormyjet]

Winter of 2018 - Summer of 2021 TIME FILES WHEN YOU’RE IN YOUR 20s!!!!

OH BOY. It’s been three years (or more) since I updated this. “Time is a weird soup!” to quote a fave. I guess I quit tumblr around the time there was a purge of content and creators and a smack down on a lot of the fandom communities. Tumblr has always been something of a crapshow though so I’ve been more productive with my time than I was in some ways, but I’ve also found other ways to waste my time. *cough twitter/netflix/youtube/MTGArena cough*.

General Life Achievements since 2018 -JLPT N3 GET in 2019! -Blackbelt GET in 2018! -TESOL 120 Hour and BE 50 Hour Cert from online provider GET in 2021 -STUDENT LOAN BANISHED (Thank you grandparents) -Survived Apartment flooding in early 2020. -Mystery anxiety related illness and chronic pain in my left leg from early 2020 - Present. -A mythical 6th and 7th year on the JET Programme. -Started posting on Instagram a lot more about my wanderings around Matsuyama/Uwajima. Mainly old buildings and stray cats. @astormyknight -Surviving so far in Japan with old rona-chan.

2018 was rough. I was given an additional school in the first semester (March to July) as we had someone find a better job. I enjoyed it, but it was a bit of a rough go especially when I was transferred that August after three fantastic years at Tsubaki JHS and ES and only a semester there. I legit went through the five stages of grief - which I think is another reason I stopped blogging. I was given my current base school along with four other schools. Going from 2(3) to 5 schools was a bit of an adjustment. I still feel a bit spread out.

That said, I keep running into teachers and students who were at the Tsubaki’s. The teachers shuffle around every April, so it's always a lottery with which new faces are going to be old friends (or enemies…). A couple of kids moved and transferred into my current schools from Tsubaki too. So I have one kid I can say I've been teaching for 6 out of the 7 years I've been here!

One of the kids who was in JHS 3rd grade when I first got here (in 2015!) hangs out around one of my favorite cafes, so I got chatting with him recently. He's in his second year of nursing school - his class nearly broke me in the first year, it was really a trial by fire with those kids. I was 22 then, and he’s 20 now, so it was interesting chatting to him about that first year of teaching. His younger sister was one of my favorite students too, she was in the group of kids that graduated in the March of 2018, the year group that went through Tsubaki JHS with me - they’re newly minted University students now!

This Thursday morning when I was cycling in to work, a kid who was 2nd year JHS when I left  (so 2nd or 3rd year JHS now) pulled up with their Mum in a van and got their mamachari out of the back to bike to school. The franticness of it all was hilarious. Their Mum legit sat on the horn until I pulled over. I was so happy to run into this kid, even at social distance and both of us late to work/school - because we both remembered each other and as they were going around the corners they were yelling each time they turned and humming the old elementary school directions chant and pelting me with questions about what I’ve been up to.

I've had so many students and schools now, that everything is kind of running into a blur. I remember flashes of kids faces and voices, random memories of in class or out of class shenanigans out of the blue. Also, I now, more than ever, have issues remembering kids' names, but I still know their faces (even with their masks), whose homeroom class they were in, who their friends were and which club they were in. I get random flashbacks to past conversations with them when I see them on the street or we run into each other. I feel bad because the first thing former students ask is ‘Do you remember my name?’ and I always have to be like, ‘Honestly, no, but I remember you did this on x day, x month in x classroom’.

Socially in 2018 -2019 - a few of our friends went home and things shook up a little. Our DnD group changed a bit - one of our players stepped into the role forever DM (THANK YOU RALPH). From memory the newbies were great - some of them just went home at the start of last month and it’s weird not seeing them around (JESS DO YOUR BEST!). I think we only have one or two people left from that rotation. There’s no 6th year ALTs, and only two 5th years.

Aug 2018 - Aug 2019 was the year of Hiura - my mountain school. Dang man, they were so cool. The students of the JHS and the ES combined barely hit 30, so each class was between 3-10 students depending on the grade. It was easier to get to know the kids, their abilities and their goals than it has been for me at other schools. I miss it so bad, being in nature once a week did my country-kid heart so good! The bugs! The frogs! The river! The mountain! The monkeys! The lizards! The dilapidated houses and hidden shrines!!!! The random crabs in the English room...I forgot that there was such a thing as freshwater crabs, and being right next to a river, the invasion wasn’t as out of place as I first thought...  

The area is so picturesque and calming. Every week up there was a small adventure (after getting over my motion sickness from the bus ride up). The kids were constantly pranking either myself or the main English teacher. There was always some new weird bug or lizard in a tank to be educated about. There were chickens on the way to the JHS that used to escape from their cardboard box prisons to run riot on the gardens. There were old people to freak out with my youth and foreignness! The kids also got to do a lot of extra classes, sumiyakai (making charcoal the traditional way), planting and maintaining rice paddies, setting up vegetable gardens, raising fireflies, conserving a special breed of fire lily (only found in this particular mountain valley) and another rare flower, wilderness training ect.

I wish I could have stayed there a lot longer but SOMEONE (read...the BoE) decided that schools had to be shuffled again(thank goodness the dude who has it now was able to keep it from the 2021 shuffle, he's the best fit for the school). I had so many good memories from there, I wish I had been more consistent in writing it down. I do have a bunch of photos and videos from there though, so that's nice. The only thing I don’t miss is the bus trip up and down - not only was it motion sickness, there was a healthy dose of fear each ride as the driver brought us perilously close to the edge of the mountain drop…

2019 - 2020 was interesting. With the school I got given instead of the Hirua’s I was roped into more demonstration lessons which was a lot of pressure because I was also involved quite heavily with the JHS observation and training lessons too. They were somewhat rewarding, the third graders are now super smart 5th graders, but the teachers  who need to embrace the new curriculum and ways of teaching really haven’t taken on anything from the lessons....

Outside of work as well, I was given the chance, thanks to an ALT buddy of mine, to join in with the local festival. It's been one of the biggest highlights of my time here, and I am gutted it’s been cancelled for the last two years, but I understand the reason…. I was able to travel to Okinawa too during that summer for an international Karate seminar with the Dojo I train with. I met the head of the style I currently practice and a bunch of people from around the world. I also got to see Shuri castle before it burned down. So that was a stroke of luck. One of the places I want to go when/if we get out of this pandemic is Okinawa. I want to see more of those Islands so bad. Just before the whole pandemic thing too - I managed to see the Rugby World Cup, a Canada vs NZ match, I even ran into Tana Umanga in Oita city!!!

2019 - 2020 was supposed to be my last year on JET, so I was frantically Job hunting. I went to the Career Fair in Osaka in early Feb/Late January 2020. I applied and got interviewed for a position in Sendai in early Jan 2020. In the end though - the Rona hit. We started hearing whispers of it around the end of 2019, then the cruise boats happened, and then Japan refused to cancel the Olympics...every holiday season there is a new wave of infections, my nurse friends in Tokyo are struggling....my teacher friends in more populous areas of Japan are struggling…

JET couldn't get new ALTs for 2020-2021, I took the extra year when it was eventually offered, as the one job I had managed to get a serious offer for was hesitating because with the rona setting in, things were uncertain. There was a lot of time spent adjusting to the new rules surrounding what we could do in class with the kids as well as textbook change. Schools shut on and off during the spring months. 

I also got a reminder of my mortality mid May with an unrelated illness which is still smacking me around a bit - stress/age, it does things to the human body it has no right to. It's only been in the last three months I’ve been able to exercise like I used to, I’ve put on a bunch of weight I can't shrug off (one part medication, another part diet) My relationship with food needs to change, and I really need a kitchen that allows me for more than one pan meals. I also need to figure out what to do with a left leg that is in constant pain from the knee down and a heart that misses beats when stressed out (mentally and physically…). 

My apartment also got flooded by the guy upstairs at one point, I spent most of late February/early March living in a hotel while my walls and floor got redone - I think this was one of the things that really stressed me out and kicked my anxiety right up a notch, it was right when things were getting REALLY bad with rona-chan in Hokkaido and schools were shutting down here as it was filtering into the prefecture and so Japan closed schools for the first time…

Classes in covid times have been weird. We’ve been wearing facemasks full time since the early stages of the pandemic (March 2020) - so I admit that I get a bit pissed off seeing both Americans and New Zealanders back home bitching about just having to start wearing them full time in public. I have asthma and have been suffering with the things on during the 30*C plus with high 90s humidity summers. Teachers were offered vaccines late July 2021, just days before the Olympics were open - and I finished my two shots in the middle of August. But the overall distribution and take up of the jab has been slow.  As mentioned above, we can't play a lot of the games we used to play with kids in classes anymore, and a lot of the activities outlined in the textbook curriculum need to be adjusted too, so we’ve had to be creative. We use hand sanitizer a lot more too. One of the things I miss the most though, is eating lunch with the kids.

Socially from summer 2020 - now 2021 we played a lot of DnD and board games, both online and in person when we could. There were no new ALTs again for the 2021-2022 JET year, and those of us who were in 6th year were offered a 7th. Four out of six of us took it. As a whole we’re down from a peak of 38 ALTs for Junior High and Elementary school to 22 for now. We hopefully will get a new person at the end of September, and 4 more in November. Which will bring us to 27. This has led to ANOTHER round of school shuffles.

Summer vacation has been weird the last two years. With rona-chan, we haven’t really been able to travel. All the summer festivals (all the Autumn and Winter ones too!) have been cancelled, so the changing of seasons just feels, wrong. I dunno. There is so much we all miss from pre-rona-chan, and so much that doesn’t happen that makes this just feel like one long long unending year of sadness, coldness, raininess, unbearable heat and repeat. I’m tired. Time is going so fast, but so.dang.slow.

I lost my favorite school (AGAIN GDI!!!) and gained the school I taught a semester at in 2019....I had my first day there on Wednesday. Schools actually started back on September 1st so there was some drama as the BoE didn’t communicate fast enough about our school changes. We legit got told on the 27th of August (on a Friday) our schools were changing effective September 1st, but somehow some of our schools found out on the Monday 30th August. In July we were told we would be changing schools at the end of September, so.a lot of ALTs and schools were left short changed, not having opportunities to say goodbye to co-workers or students/having their planning for the semester more or less thrown out the window too. I love my job. I really dislike the way the BoE treats us, the Japanese assistant language teachers and our schools.

The new school I have is used to having an ALT there twice a week, who plans all the lessons and executes them. I’m at three elementary schools. I'm only at each once a week, I want to plan, but being that I miss an entire lesson in between visits, it's going to be difficult to do so. Not impossible, but being that I'm already doing it for two other schools, who are at two different places in the textbook ah…….. From what I have talked to my new supervisor about though, it sounds like the teachers have taken on more of the lesson planning and I'll be able to contribute ideas when I'm there. I just want to and wish I could do more without being confused all the time. (This is all usually done in my second language too, not in English so extra levels of confusion and miscommunication abound).

 I feel like this at my JHS too a lot of the time. I want to contribute more, but even with constant communication with my main in school supervisor (who is a badass and pretty much on the same page about everything with me) I still feel about as useful as tits on a bull. Especially now that classes have been cancelled and or shortened, there's less time to do stuff. Any game or activity I plan is usually cut in favor of making up time in the textbook. When I'm in class, I'm back to being a tape recorder, the fun police and general nuisance.　

Also in the last week...my two of my schools were  shut due to students testing positive for the rona. This is the second time my schools have had a scare in the last 8 months. And by shut, I mean the students were all at home, but the teachers  all had to come into the office. Because why not I guess….. I mean,  the cases increasing is really not unexpected with the amount of people who were travelling over obon and the increase of cases due to the Olympics/Japan being slow on vaccinating/delta being the dominant strain/Japan's leaders doing relatively little except asking shops and restaurants to limit people coming in at one time and closing before 8pm. I know my schools weren't the only one shut either - but still High Schools were having their sports days this week. I kept on seeing groups of kids hanging in the park after, so that was a little bit nerve wracking.

It's just frustrating - we’ve been on half days to “minimize the risk of infection” for kids and teachers, as if only being at school from 8am through to 1pm is going to reduce the risk.  My schools have only just started testing out Microsoft teams and Zoom lesson equipment. Thankfully our school’s run in this time was contained real quick, the family was super good about informing us when they got their results back, and the fact they needed to be tested. The homeroom teacher and the students from the same class were the only ones tested, and they all came back clear, which was nice. But the information came back so SLOW. 

I’m a little irritated because I found out on Wednesday night what was going on, and even if I am vaccinated, I am super worried that I will end up being the covid monkey due to being at different schools three days out of five. I think other than being worried that I will catch it myself and get real sick, my biggest fear is that I will be protected from bad symptoms from the vaccine, but still be able to pass it onto some of my more vulnerable friends and students. The whole thing is a mess.  

Other than Covid and BoE drama, life is good. I’ve had a couple of other big changes - both fantastic and not so great, but yeah.  I have my health (and health insurance!) for now. I have a job, for now. I have a sense of existential dread for the next 12 months, but we’ll see where we end up. Life post JET is going to be way less cushy and I am TERRIFIED. I mean, I have a BA in Eng/Ling and no idea what to do with it…..because I am NOT suited for academia.

TLDR: Love my job. Don’t like the system. What is life? Future scary. 

[1littleshippergirl1]

The First Day

With his worn out backpack over his shoulders, the straps digging into Harry’s skin with how much things he’d stuffed inside, he made his way into the building. There was a large Welcome Back banner over the front entrance. The colorful walls were something he’d greatly missed. The summer holidays weren’t nearly as fun for him, not when he was forced in his cupboard when he wasn’t working on his chores. Harry disliked his outdoor chores the most because not only would the heat be unbearable at times, but the faint noise of kids his age shrieking happily whilst they played would reach his ears, reminding him of how he couldn’t have fun like that.

But it didn’t matter now.

Now they were back in school and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had to let him out. He was in Year Four and felt very grown up. He’d even grown an inch or two since last year so that meant he didn't need to use the foot stool to use the water fountain anymore. He was thoroughly glad because his height was one of the many reasons Dudley and his friends made fun of him. But it wasn’t his fault he was so much shorter. Maybe his parents had been short, too.

Harry was lost within his own thoughts. He didn’t see a foot coming out of nowhere. Consequently, he tripped and let out a squeak of alarm. He face planted right on the marble tile. Behind him, there was some laughter. Harry’s face scrunched up in pain, slowly sitting back up. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the culprit: Piers. Piers was one of Dudley’s friends who often came around and was extra mean to Harry for no reason.

“Better watch your step, Potter,” Piers jeered.

Dudley came into Harry's vision next. “Good one,” he laughed like it was supposed to be clever.

Harry pulled his knee up close, grimacing. It was skinned already, bleeding a little, too. He glared up at them with as much intensity as an eight year old could muster. “That wasn’t very nice.”

Dudley and Piers made faces, imitating his words in exaggerated voices.

“That isn’t very nice! Oooh!”

“Stop it!” Harry didn’t like being mocked.

“Stop it!” They repeated in sync. “Stop it!”

Piers snuck a mischievous glance over at Dudley, snatching Harry’s glasses right off his face.

Harry jumped to his feet. “Give those back!”

“Give those back!” Piers mocked him.

“I mean it! They’re mine !” Harry’s heart quickened. He hoped Piers would give them back before the bell would ring. He couldn’t go through the rest of the day without them.

“Now, now, where are you manners?” Piers teased. “Didn’t anybody teach you some?’

“Nah,” Dudley chimed in, “he’s an orphan. He didn’t have anybody to teach him.”

They laughed.

Harry did not.

Piers turned to Dudley, grinning wickedly. “What should I do with ‘em?”

“Break them!” Dudley burst out gleefully.

“No!” Harry erupted.

“Mum and Dad won’t get him another,” Dudley told Piers.

“Please, Piers, don’t do it!”

“What’s in it for me?” Piers twirled the glasses in his hand.

“I don’t know,” Harry looked desperate. He’d be willing to do just about anything so he could see properly again. “What do you want?”

“Gimme your lunch,” Piers ordered.

Harry’s body slumped. “My lunch? But what am I gonna eat?”

Piers shrugged, holding his hands behind his back and trying to pull off a sad look on his face. “I guess you don’t want your glasses after all.... ”

He started to walk away. “No, wait!” Harry said quickly. He clumsily rummaged through his backpack through his blurry vision, coming across the plain brown sack he had his lunch in. “Here.”

Piers’ eyes widened greedily. He tossed the glasses to the side, eagerly digging through to see what goodies were inside. He threw out whatever he wasn’t interested in eating, which ended up being a plain turkey sandwich and a tiny bottle of water. “What’s the big idea?” He demanded. “Where’s all the good stuff?”

“He can’t have any,” Dudley jeered. “Freaks don't get sweets.”

Harry finally found his glasses. He got up and while he kept his eyes to the floor, he said bravely, “I’m not a freak.”

“Yeah you are!” Dudley insisted. “Mum and Dad says so!”

“You mean say so,” Harry quietly corrected.

Dudley didn’t like that all much. He shoved Harry to the ground, much to the amusement of the gathering crowd. They laughed at him when he went crashing to the floor on his back. It sent pain up his spine. “Freak!” His cousin shouted.

It got the other kids to chant as well. “Freak! Freak! Freaky boy!”

Harry hurryingly grabbed his backpack and his lunch items that Piers threw to the floor, pushing past the crowd as he went to his classroom. The laughter became distant after a while, but it still hurt nonetheless.

///

Harry went inside the colorful classroom. There were posters all over the walls, some were for measurements, others were for maps and reminders for how to make a sentence with the right punctuation or if one needed to know how to not make a run-on sentence. He stood near the door, glancing around. The desks were close to each other and oh! They had lids that lifted up where you could put your things inside!

“Hello there,” A pretty lady with soft looking light brown hair and a sweet smile came over to him. She had on a bright yellow dress and her hair was curly and bouncy on her shoulders. “I’m Miss Kelli. What’s your name?”

“Harry Potter,” Harry said shyly.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Harry,” Miss Kelli smiled. ‘Why don’t you take a seat? We’ll get started shortly. You can sit anywhere you like.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded and surveyed the room. Most of the seats were empty except for one desk that was next to the large window that faced the playground. A boy was sitting there all alone. His clothes were worn, like somebody had already had them before he did. His hair was dark brown, almost black like Harry’s own hair and he seemed to be frowning. Maybe he was upset because no one was sitting with him?

He went right over to him with a beaming smile on his face. The boy looked up. He didn’t say anything, he only stared. “Hi I’m Harry!” Harry extended his hand but the boy did not shake it. “What’s your name?”

The boy still didn’t speak.

“Did you hear me?” Harry tilted his head. Maybe he needed to be louder. “I said my name is Harry. What’s-”

“I heard you,” the boy said, annoyed.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “Why didn’t you say anything, then?”

“I didn’t want to,” The boy said coolly.

“You don’t have to be mean,” Harry frowned. “I was only asking.”

“Well don’t ,” The boy glared at him as if he caused all the problems in the world. Kinda like how Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon did.

“What’s going on here?” Miss Kelli came by, looking down at them, namely the boy, sternly. “Are you two getting along?”

Harry didn’t want the boy to get in trouble on the first day, even if he was a grouch. “We’re fine, Miss Kelli, honest.”

“You didn’t sound fine,” she wasn’t convinced. “Tom, you sounded upset. What’s wrong?”

So that’s what the boy’s name was.

Tom crossed his arms, another scowling coming out. “I’m fine,” he ground out.

“Tom, we don’t talk to people like that,” Miss Kelli said patiently. She pointed to a poster to the left of them, it was all about how to express yourself in a positive and helpful manner. “Do you see that over there? When you’re feeling angry, you need to take a deep breath and try to focus on something else. You don’t take it out on other people, okay?”

Tom huffed out a puff of air. “Fine.”

Miss Kelli said a few more things before she went back to her own desk. Harry stood there feeling awkward, like he was intruding on something. He waited until the teacher was gone to say anything else. “M’sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

Tom spared him a two second look. Then he went back to looking down at the wooden desk.

“Can I sit down?” Harry asked, tentatively inching his way closer. Tom didn’t respond. But he also didn’t move or explicitly say no, so he took that as encouragement to sit down. “Are you new?” He decided to ask while taking out the materials he needed for the day. “I haven’t seen you around before.”

“No,” Tom said shortly.

“Really?” Harry was surprised. “Oh.”

A moment later, he had another question. “Were you in Miss Isobel’s class?”

The younger years were separated into two, sometimes three different classrooms depending on how big the year was. Harry’s year had lots of students so there were three classrooms for fourth years. They all had different schedules so that was likely why he didn’t notice Tom until now. It was strange, though; usually someone stayed with that same group until they were finished with primary school. They weren’t moved to another group unless they'd done something really bad. Tom didn’t look bad. He seemed harmless.

“Or Mr. Kenny’s?”

“So what if I was?” Tom grumbled.

“Why are you in this class then?”

“None of your business,” Tom told him.

“But why?”

“Because I said so.”

Harry got quiet after that. That’s what Uncle Vernon said during the rare times when he broke the Dursleys rule of asking a question.

///

“We should be friends,” Harry declared during art class. Miss Kelli took them to another room filled with artwork on the walls, easels in the corners and smocks hanging up to wear over their clothes. The easels were placed in rows and they were to sit at one next to their desk partner. They were allowed to paint whatever they wanted.

Tom was using a tiny brush dipped in green paint. He’d made a giant snake and was currently working on the scales. He paused, looking just like Aunt Petunia, as if he’d swallowed something unpleasant. “What?”

“We should be friends,” Harry smiled.

“No,” Tom said bluntly.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to.”

“But why ?”

Tom gripped the brush much harder than before.

////

Tom was sitting alone at lunch. Just like in Miss Kelli’s room, he saw at the table that was furthest from everyone. Even though he declined Harry’s suggestion that they be friends, he was still going to try. Maybe Tom was having a bad day. No one talked to him at all. It was like Harry's situation, only this wasn’t because Dudley had scared the other kids. People just seem to naturally avoid Tom.

Poor Tom

Harry felt bad for him. He must have definitely been lonely. That only proved to him that Tom needed a friend. He couldn’t be by himself forever! So he made his way over there. He tried to be quick about it; Dudley was coming into peripheral vision.

“Hey freak !”

Harry sat on the bench, doing his best to ignore his cousin. “Hi,” he said.

Tom stared.

“I told you I didn’t want to be your friend.”

“Okay,” Harry said instead of arguing with him. “But I have nowhere to sit. Can I sit here.”

Tom muttered something he didn’t quite catch.

“Where’s your lunch?” Harry peered at him, his eyes brimming with curiosity.

Tom glowered at him.

It dawned on Harry in that minute. “Do you not have any lunch?”

Tom crossed his arms, his gaze wandering elsewhere. The faintest hint of red appeared in his cheeks.

“Do you want some of mine?” Harry offered. “I haven’t got much, only a sandwich and water. But you can have half of it.”

Tom looked like he didn’t believe him. Not until Harry unevenly tore the sandwich in half. He gave the bigger piece to Tom, who had a flash of surprise on his face. He hadn’t expected to be given anything. Harry glanced around, wondering how he could give Tom some water. He spotted a stack of plastic cups on a wheeling cart not too far from them. “You should get one of those,” he said. “I’ll give you some water.”

“Why?” Tom narrowed his eyes.

Harry blinked innocently. “Aren’t you thirsty?”

A few seconds passed by.

Tom got up to fetch the cup. He dropped the cup in front of Harry, watching determinedly as if to ensure that he was actually going to oit. And he did; he poured half of it into the cup and slid it back to Tom.

He didn't immediately dig in like Harry thought he would. In fact, he was just looking at it. Like it was some strange object.

“Do you not like it?” Harry asked. “I don’t have anything else but I can see if I can bring something different tomorrow.”

He watched as Tom’s eyes lifted from the sandwich to meet his own.

“Why did you give me this?”

“You looked hungry,” Harry said.

“You don’t even know me.”

“That’s alright,” Harry said. “I don’t mind. I’ll share with you tomorrow too if you want.”

Tom seemed like he was pondering his words and then very slowly he took a bite of the sandwich.

////

He didn’t know if he should go up to Tom this time. He was under a tall tree with his knees pulled up to his chest, glancing over at the fence. Harry wanted to; he wanted another chance at talking to him. But the other boy was giving off a feeling that made him reconsider; it was just like when Uncle Vernon had a bad day at work. He would go to his chair after coming back. Aunt Petunia knew better than to disturb and she’d tell Dudley to go find something else to do than watch the telly, which usually upset him until he was promised a new toy or a day full of fun with whatever he wanted to do.

Harry stood in the middle of the playground, watching him. He didn’t see Dudley coming up behind him until it was too late. He was yet again shoved, falling to the ground with one swift swipe. Harry turned on his side, looking up at his cousin with dread filling in his stomach.

“Leave me alone, Dudley,” Harry’s knees were aching.

“Why should I?” Dudley sneered.

“You’re being mean!”

“Aww,” Dudley mocked. “Is the freak gonna cry like a whittle baby?”

“I’m not a baby!” Harry jumped to his feet.

“Yeah you are!”

“No I’m not!”

“Yeah you are!” Dudley said loudly. “You’re a baby! Baby, baby !”

“Stop it!” Harry said hotly.

“Stop it,” Dudley imitated him.

Harry glared as fiercely as he could. He really wanted to wipe that look off his cousin’s face but he didn’t want to be grounded to his cupboard. Instead, he stormed off towards the tree Tom was under. He’d seen the whole thing, evidently. His expression was impassive as Harry plopped down.

“Do you know him?” Tom nodded toward Dudley’s direction.

“He’s my cousin,” Harry scowled for the first time that day. “He hates me.”

Tom only hummed. “He’s stupid,” he said at last. “He still can’t even remember his times tables.”

That brought a smile out of Harry. It was true; Dudley still struggled with previous years’ material. It was one of the reasons why Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia got mad at Harry whenever he did better than Dudley.

Tom’s eyes landed on Harry once again. It made him feel like the other boy was staring deep into his soul or something. “Does he hurt you?”

“Huh?” Harry blinked. “Er, sometimes.”

“Sometimes how ?” Tom said impatiently.

Harry squirmed. He wasn’t supposed to talk about that. “Er, well-”

“Don’t bother lying to me,” Tom said sharply. “I can tell when people are.”

“I wasn’t,” Harry insisted. He fiddled with his hands under the scrutiny of Tom’s gaze. “Er, well, he hits me sometimes...and he has this game he plays with his friends, Harry Hunting.”

Tom arched an eyebrow.

A flush came over Harry’s face. The stare made his fidgeting worse. “They like to chase after me. Once Dudley’s friend Piers....he held my arms and Dudley punched me.” He grimaced, just remembering how painful his stomach was to the touch for weeks after.

Tom’s cold gaze lingered on Dudley, who was a ways away, standing in front of a smaller boy, holding up his fist threateningly. “He’s a coward,” he spat. “Only bloody cowards hit people.”

Harry pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment paper from his pocket and a couple of crayons. He was continuing to work on the picture he’d started this morning during their free time in Miss Kelli’s classroom. He still listened to what Tom was saying.

“-wonder how he’d like it, getting hit back,” Tom said in a scarily calm voice.

Harry’s head snapped in horror. Was Tom going to try and hit Dudley back? He didn’t want him getting hurt. He couldn’t, he just couldn’t! He’d be outnumbered.

“You’re...you’re not going to do anything, are you?”

Tom only smirked.

////

They were released at the end of the day. The younger years had to wait to be picked up by their parents but fourth years could walk home if they wanted to. Harry hurriedly grabbed his things, rushing down the hallway--but not running--so he could catch Tom in time before he left. The entrance doors flew open; he stood at the top of the cobblestone stairs, looking out for him. The sun was shining, a warm shadow coming over his face. He brightened up when he saw Tom at the end of the walkway, about to turn right.

He rushed down there. “Tom! Tom!”

Tom made a face when he saw him but it didn't hurt Harry’s feelings. He came to an abrupt stop in front of him, breathless and panting to re-catch his breath.

“What?” Tom said grumpily. “What do you want now ?”

Harry grinned toothily, but also a bit shyly. “I made you something!”

Tom blinked.

He held it up; it was a stick figure drawing of the both of them. Harry was drawn in red and he colored Tom in bright green. With a hopeful gleam in his eyes, he presented the drawing to him. He rocked on his heels. “Do you like it?”

Tom kept his eyes on the drawing, staring at it in wonder. “You drew this for me?” He demanded.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. He pointed to the corner of the paper where Tom’s name was scribbled in. “See? It has your name on it. Well, do you like it?”

“It is...acceptable,” Tom decided on. In a whisper, he added, “Thank you, Harry.”

Harry beamed. “You’re welcome!”

There was a tiny smile on Tom’s face.

Both boys were quiet. The only noise came from the chirping birds, the cars that passed by and the chatter of the other children. That is, until the doors came open again and Dudley ran out. Harry’s hands flew up to his mouth, his shoulders beginning to shake with laughter.

Dudley had a bucket over his head and apparently, he was having difficulty getting it off. “Mummy!” he wailed, running around helplessly. (Harry wondered how he didn’t fall on the stairs). “Mummy, help!” Dudley’s friends tried to run after him, yelling for him to stop so they could help. He did not do that, however. He kept running until he hit a tree and fell right on his back.

Harry laughed.

“Oh, I wonder if he’s alright,” Tom said in a voice that suggested he felt oppositely. “Wouldn’t it be a shame if he was hurt?”

[turnthepage11]

tw: medical discussion, mention of prescription drug use

Personal Post: Appreciate any words of encouragement but honestly just trying to throw my thoughts out to the universe.

I’m struggling so hard right now folks. For context: I am 25. I have a lot of medical issues, rheumatoid arthritis, IBS, ADHD, PCOS. And those are just my long term diseases. When I turned 18 I started having hip pain on my left side accompanied by numbness. I had assumed it was my newly diagnosed arthritis and dismissed it for a few years. Almost three years ago, I finally brought it up to my doctor and long story short, we learned I had a hip impingement which is when there is extra bone on the ball of my hip, making it hurt to walk.

I had surgery last summer for it and while they were in my body, they learned I had a pretty bad labrum tear (on a scale of 1-4, I had a 3) and they fixed it when they removed the extra bone because even though it was decently bad, it never showed up on any of my scans.

Now my surgery didn’t really fix any of my hip problems. My base level of pain was lower, but with any activity it gets pretty high, pretty quickly. (That was context, let’s get to the past 36 hours).

On Friday afternoon, I went to go sit down in my desk chair at school (you know, nothing wild) and as I sit, I felt and heard a loud POP in the front side of my left hip. I yelled so loud, one of the kids who had passed my room a few seconds prior ran back to check on me (one of my sophomores, aka my og crew from year 1).

I stood up immediately and it felt like a muscle had just cramped so I tried walking it off. Sitting hurt the most, followed by standing, then walking so I walked for thirty minutes with a pretty severe limp, hoping that it would slowly go away the more I used it.

It got a little better, not much and then I had to sit for two hours to tutor two students who were on quarantine. Then I had my hour drive home where I turned on my heated seats since usually the heat helps my hip.

Well. It made my lower back hurt INSANELY bad (when it hadn’t hurt previously. Or at least less than my hip had so I hadn’t noticed it). When I got home from my hour commute, I could barely walk and carry my backpack into the house, let alone get up the three steps into my parents’ house.

I took leftover Percocet from my surgery last summer to help with the pain Friday night and it took my 8 pain level down to a 5 and I finally managed to fall asleep.

This morning I woke up and my limp wasn’t as bad, but my hip still hurt and so did my lower back and I was at a 7 on the pain scale. Despite that, I went to breakfast with my family and took another Percocet just so I could see how I would feel around 3 when it wore off since my RA is usually pretty bad in the morning too but calms down by 12 or so and I didn’t want to be worn down from my RA pain and my injury. Even with the Percocet, I was still at 4/5 all morning.

I ended up falling asleep around 11:45 because I don’t sleep too much during the week combined with the med and woke up at 3 at a 7 on the pain scale. I asked my best friend who is a BSN if I needed to go to the ER taking all the above in consideration and the fact that the Percocet didn’t do too terribly much for my pain and she told me I needed to go asap ESPECIALLY because it was my surgery hip.

So I went to my rinky dink rural medicine hospital. They put me in a room for two hours and forgot about me until the doctor finally saw me on his list, came and saw me and said “I don’t know why the hell they put you in this room when I need you in a bed to test your range of motion.” (I was in an old closet with a phlebotomy chair.)

He did range of motion in my hip. Not the worse I’ve ever had but not great either. Said he felt how swollen I was in my hip and thought I might have retorn my labrum or even had one of the strings repairing my labrum last year break. The only thing he could do was a CT, not an MRI, to see if my hip or one of my vertabrae had came out of place. Luckily they hadn’t (though at this point I almost wish they had. It might have been an easier fix.)

He recommended I take three days off of work, go on crutches, and take it easy. I’m a middle/high school English teacher who is semestered by double periods. Missing three days of work is like missing six class days. I barely wanted crutches, I’ve walked like this for a day, how are crutches gonna help? But then I got a steroid shot and it made the pain a solid 8. The doctor kept checking on me and saw me crying so he gave me a shot of morphine and I told him I changed my mind, I wanted the crutches.

I’m hopeful that in the morning I’ll feel at least marginally better. I don’t think I will, but I’m gonna hope for it at least. He gave me steroids, Percocet for the week (which I’ll only be able to take at night because obviously I can’t teach kids while having Percocet in me), and anti nausea meds just in case. But I have to call my doctor who did the surgery for a follow up… which wouldn’t be bad except he’s four hours away. And he’s probably going to request the special MRI I got to confirm I needed surgery. Which I can only get done down where he practices. So that’s two sick days gone right there.

God forbid I actually need surgery to fix a tear FROM SITTING DOWN IN A FUCKING CHAIR. I’ll use all my sick time right there. (I only have 20 days and 3 personal. I take sick days for appointments often because of my specialist appointments and my work bestie is getting married on a Sunday in May so I’m taking a personal day for the following day.) I told my work bestie that the doctor wanted me to take three days off and she said to do it, I had the time and when I pointed out the potential for surgery, she cringed and agreed with what I said about sticking it out for the next three days.

And to top it all off, my parents are acting like I’m over exaggerating. I asked my mom to take my car and drop me off because my legs had started to go weak (which was the entire reason I went to the ER and not the pain. Because I assumed something had happened to my back for my legs to go weak.) She refused, so I drove myself. Was going to drive myself home until the doctor gave me a morphine shot. When I got in the car complaining about my hip, starting to cry about the recommendations, my dad just told me “that’s life kid, deal with it.”

I don’t feel comfortable unloading this on my coworker friends because I know this is a lot. But I’m just so… disappointed. I have lost thirty pounds this year, a major goal of my doctors but never really pushed. Got better at taking my medicine (thank you ADHD diagnosis and medication). But like, I am 25 and might have to have hip surgery… again. And my doctor had said if he had to go in again there was a high chance I would have to get a hip replacement because any additional repairs might be hard with how much damage I had done to my labrum already.

I’m tired, my body is exhausted, I’m already dreading the outcome and time off I’m going to be taking over the next month because of this. I’m annoyed by my parents’ reaction to the whole thing. I’m dreading work this week because I know everyone is going to say something about me being in crutches.

This just sucks folks. I was having such an okay school year until this decided to say “nah, sucks to be you.”

[smoochkooks]

—make it right 1 (m.)

⟶ pairing: jung hoseok/reader

⟶ genre: smut (coming in second part!), angst, fluff

⟶ word count: 19k+ (this part)

⟶ tags/warnings for part one: hip hop dancer!hoseok/drummer!hoseok, ballerina!reader, enemies to friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slowburn, mutual pinning, sexual tension, course language, drinking, hoseok’s hot bandmates, oc rolling her eyes at hoseok every five seconds, some banter and sarcasm, etc.

⟶ summary: he was a punk, she did ballet, avril lavigne sings, but truth to be told, there’s so much more than meets the eye about jung hoseok besides his drums, killer dancing skills and unexplained hatred for tattoos and piercings. because, under the layers of leather jackets and washed out joy division shirts, he’s still just a boy who tries to find his place in this big world.

or, alternatively: ballerina meets certain hip hop dancer slash musician who’s on a mission to win her heart with coffee dates and drumming lessons.

⟶ read second (and final) part here

The first time you met Jung Hoseok, it was raining.

September had just begun, welcoming the citizens of Seoul with copious amounts of not-so-summer-like weather. And at this point, after three days of non-stopping rainfalls, you were convienced that mother nature was trying to drown the whole city.

It was Saturday afternoon, last remains of August were still in the air, hidden underneath greish clouds covering the whole sky. That didn’t seem to be any problem for the tourists though, emerging from every single corner with smartphones glued to their hands.  

You were running late for your ballet dance teaching class with an umbrella in one hand and your gym bag in another, maneuvering between puddles in white trainers, praying to whatever gods that existed not to soak them through and cursing yourself for constant bad outfit choices when it came to weather. Scorching hot afternoon with friends? Let's wear something black, your brain would suggest. Rainstorm? White converse highs is a great idea!

Your mother would choke you with bare hands probably if she saw you right now.

On your way to the studio, you bumped into some old lady carrying bags of groceries. You threw quick apologies, ignoring the screams of “watch out!’’ along with deathly glares that other people were sending in your direction you, until you finally reached your destination. Exactly five minutes before the time.

Just Dance dance school, located approximately twenty-five minutes long underground ride from your flat (which as a broke college student you highly appreciated), appeared in front of your eyes.

It was a modern building, situated in a part of the city that smelled like soy sauce and burnt meat, but during four months you had been working there you got used to it. There was a nail salon on the first floor and tailor on the second, but the whole third floor belonged to the school.

You started working there on Fridays and Saturdays a while ago, after completely coincidentally stumbling upon an offer found online. The school was looking for someone who could teach kids ballet on weekends. A young, energetic person with experience and, obviously, great patience and sympathy for children.

The only thing you were lacking of was background in teaching. But the manager, Choi Jisoo, did not mind that at all. A row of gold medals and trophies sitting on your shelves was enough to convince her you’re worth giving a chance on a probationary period. After few weeks of proving your skills as the best ballet teacher miss Choi would ever think of, you had got in.

And that was how you dumped your part time job at the petrol station to teach kids at Just Dance twice a week. Friday evenings and Saturday afternoons for a decent amount of money for a college student struggling with real life shit called university fees and rent, that even scholarship couldn’t entirely underwrite.

Now, climbing up the stairs with the speed of light, you knew you couldn’t bring yourself to lose this job because of your silly daytime nap that made you run late for classes.

You bursted into the locker rooms quickly, practically undressing in a hurry. After short examination in front of the mirror and fixing your usual mess of a bun, you spared a quick glance one last time at the clock. Four minutes of delay.

“Fuck!” you muttered to yourself, jogging to the practice room.

The halls, usually quite, now were filled with child-like chatter and bubbling. You frowned. That's strange, you thought to yourself. Your astonishment grew even bigger when you reached your destination, spotting a group of kids, your kids, in front of the practice room, bickering with each other.

“Hey!’’ you shouted, silencing them effectively. “Why aren't you already warming up and stretching inside?” 

One of the kids, a little girl named Jiyho, stepped forward. “The room is occupied by some other group, miss. They were here when we came.” she said.

You raised your eyebrows. Did you perhaps messed up schedules and forgot there were some changes? No, that couldn’t be it. “What do you mean ‘occupied’?” you asked. “That's impossible, we've been having this classes every week here, in this room, for three months. I would know if there were any changes.”  

Kids looked at you helplessly, shrugging their shoulders.  

You sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, of course it's not your fault. I had a really crappy day and now this,’’ you drawled, pointing your hand at the door to the practice room. “Wait here. I’m gonna try to explain this quickly.’’ you added, smiling reassuringly at them.

When you opened the door, loud music filled your ears; some newest Drake's track you couldn’t remember the name of was playing from the speakers. Inside there was a group of kids, slightly older than the ones you were teaching, practing some hip-hop choreography.  

Their teacher's back was facing you so you couldn’t distinguish if it was someone you knew from the school's crew. His dark hair with blonde highlights weren't familiar to you though. He was swaying to the rhythm of the music, counting the moves.  

You cleared your throat loudly and there was no response. Of course no one could have heard you, not over the loud bass blasting through the speakers. You spotted the cause of your problem, a mobile phone charging in the corner of the room, so you went there and turned off the music entirely just before Drake could sing the chorus.

You cleared your throat again and this time everyone, including the dance teacher, heard you without a doubt.

Kids stopped dancing immediately and turned around, wide-eyed with heaving chests. Their teacher looked in your direction too, and now you were sure he had to be a new employee.

He was not much older than you, probably around your age. There was a thin layer of sweat on his forehead he wiped out with the back of his hand, his white t-shirt with the name of some punk rock band you didn't recognize was slightly sticking to his toned chest. He was good looking, you couldn’t deny that, and there was something devilish in the way he eyed your figure up and down with a smirk plastered on his lips.

You almost blushed under his gaze.

“Is there any problem, miss primaballerina?’’ he asked first, not even hiding his mocking tone.  

You straightened up, ignoring his choice of words. “A problem?” you scoffed. “You and your group took the room where I have my classes every Friday and Saturday, so yeah, there is a problem.”

“The room was empty when I came here, so I just took it, it's not a big deal.” he answered, shrugging his shoulders.  

“It is a big deal. Are you blind? This room is made directly for ballet dances. See this thing beside the wall?” You pointed behind him. “It's called barre. We used that for stretching in ballet. Of course you don't know that, how an ignorant hip-hop choreographer wanna be like you would know.” you snorted, chuckling to yourself.  

In the corner of your eye you saw your kids peeking through the door, clearly interested in this unusual situation.

He narrowed his eyes. “I know what this is used for, princess,” he countered. You rolled your eyes at the pet name he used for you. First primaballerina and now this? Touché. “But I still don't see the point of your outburst.”

You were slowly losing your patience. The amusement in the eyes of his dancing group started to get on your nerves. It was a battle for the life and death and you weren’t used to backing away and losing. You had kids to take care of, rent to pay and new season of RuPaul's Drag Race to watch.

So you picked up a new strategy.

“Are you perhaps new here?” you asked, startling him.

“I am, why are you asking?”

“Because if you weren't new, you would know that there is only one practice room with barres in our school. This one, which also happens to be the room where I have my ballet classes every week.” you said triumphantly with a glint of not-so subtle satisfaction in your voice. “So, can you kindly take your kids and go somewhere else?”

That's it, you praised yourself in your thoughts. You got him, he doesn’t have anything up his sleeve.

The guy, however, seemed very much unaffected by your words. If anything, he was even more pleased, making your stony facade broke in seconds as you were losing your former confidence.

“No.’’ he said simply.

You gaped at him. “What?”  

“I said no, princess. I need ten more minutes to finish this practice and I’m done.’’ he replied, reaching for the water bottle standing beside the wall. “Ten minutes, and you will have your bars or barrels all to yourself.”

You ignored an urge to correct him, taking a few tentative steps until you were right in front of him. He outstanded your height for a few solid centimeters, making you feel even smaller than you already were.

In addition, you hated him even more for looking this good even up close.

“Ten more minutes?! I should have started my lesson fifteen minutes ago! My kids are waiting!” You outstretched your arms in the direction where your group was watching the situation cautiously. They looked like tennis match spectators, turning their heads left and right as the argument progressed.

“So are mine,” he snapped back in calm tone, his lips twitching in an amused smile. Your nostrils flared.

“Miss? We could use another room today. We don't mind.” one of the girls from your group, Jihyo as you assumed, proposed shyly.

“But I do mind! I’m not gonna leave it like that!’’ you said firmly, still looking straight into your new rival's eyes.

“Geez, loosen up your primaballerina skirt a little maybe.”

“It’s called tutu, you ignorant assh–!”

“What on Earth is going on here?” the manager, Choi Jisoo asked, entering the room. She was a middle-aged woman, once a contemporary dancer, now leading the school on behalf of her husband. Her red high heels were clicking loudly on the polished parquet surface as she was coming up in your direction. “I heard shouting, so I came to check. Can someone explain me why aren't you having your classes now?”

You immediately rushed to the manager, taking her hands in yours. “Miss Choi, I will explain everything. This man right here,” You pointed at the cause of your anger with distaste written all over your face and he simply rolled his eyes. “took my practice room and I have no place to have my classes.”

Miss Choi turned to look at the choreographer as well. “Is that true, Hoseok?’’ she asked.

The guy, Hoseok, nodded. “This room was empty, so I just took it. I didn’t know someone was supposed to teach here later.”

You scoffed. “There's a graphic hanging on the wall when you enter the building, you should've just–”

“Silence!” miss Choi said loudly and you stopped speaking, face flushed from the embarrassment of being scolded like that by your boss. “Jung Hoseok is indeed new here, so I will let that situation pass. And you, Y/N, will take another room for today’s practice.”

“But–”

“There's no buts. I’m sure Hoseok will know from now on in which room he should have his dance lessons. Go back to your groups, you are dismissed.” she added and left the room, leaving you to stare at her disappearing figure with wide eyes.

You clenched your fists by your sides, breathing deeply to calm your nerves. “Kids, go to the room 23.” you uttered, eyes focused on Hoseok.  

He smirked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “See you around, princess.” he half-whispered and winked.

Beginnings are always tough, and that was why after your first encounter with Jung Hoseok, you were certain you absolutely, undeniably hated his guts.

The second time you bumped into Jung Hoseok, it was Friday evening two weeks since ‘the accident' and you were walking out of locker rooms after your practice.  

When you opened the door and heard strangled cry of “Ah, fuck!” you rushed to blurt out quick apologies to your victim. “Oh my God, I’m so–” you started but immadietly shut your mouth when you saw the person who you just hit.  

Jung Hoseok, in his full glory of another The Clash t-shirt (you googled their music your first encounter with him and the only nice think you could say about them was that Jonathan played their song in Stranger Things first season) and yes, grey sweatpants (did he even own other clothes?) was standing before you, grinning in the most annoying way you could ever think of.

You wished you could wipe his smug expression off his face with sand paper.

“Fancy seeing you here too, princess,” he trailed off, leaning against the door and making you roll your eyes like every time you saw him on the halls of Just Dance. Even though you were avoiding him like a plague, he seemed to appear wherever you were. A true pain in the ass.

Maybe you were too stubborn, maybe it was your shitty coping mechanism, but decent conversation with someone like Jung Hoseok wasn’t your favourite part of the day, not after the way you were humiliated in front of your boss and underaged students.  

Last week you walked past Hoseok's group and some of them giggled. You could swear they were already making jokes and memes about you behind your back.

And, the worst of it all, an absolute peak of your devastation, was the fact that even your own kids, those who were looking up to you, started to be more reserved around you. Jihyo baked some muffins because she had birthday the other day and didn’t treat you. Jihyo, the girl who once had told you she wanted to be like you in the future.

But none of this anymore.

You turned on your heels and started to walk away but Hoseok followed your footsteps. “Hey, it's rude not to apologize. My right hand hurts now, you know? I need you to kiss it better, princess.” he called, again in the same mocking tone he had used before.

And that was the moment you decided that if choking people to death had been legal, Jung Hoseok would have been already lying dead on the floor.

You ignored his words the best you could, acting like he was invisible. Avoiding the problem wasn’t the best idea you could ever think of, your mum would say but she wasn’t there, so you concluded it was better to act like Hoseok and the situation with practice rooms two weeks ago had never happened.

Hoseok, on the other hand, had very much different outlook on this. “Are you still mad about this thing with practice rooms?’’ he asked, looking at your right profile. You clamped your mouth shut, staring forward. He chuckled. “Christ, I didn't know you're that picky. Are all primaballerinas like this? Right, you are giving me silent treatment, I forgot. But can you please stop and listen what I have to say for a moment?”

After hearing his last words you actually stopped in your tracks, causing Hoseok to do the same.  

You sighed heavily. Maybe he was right after all. You were a bitch sometimes, you couldn’t handle the defeats well and above all, you had probably the worst coping mechanism ever.

That was not the end of the world, somebody would say. Don't worry, be happy, Bob Marley would sing if he hadn’t died. Sparing one minute for Jung Hoseok wouldn’t make the ground to open in half underneath you.

“Go on, I’m listening,” you said, choosing casual tone of absolute unbotherness.

Hoseok took a deep breath, before he started speaking. “Listen, I’m sorry about what happened two weeks ago. It wasn’t intentional, I swear. As you know, I’m new here and you can argue or not but people sometimes deserve second chances,” he remarked, observing your reaction. You should stop rolling your eyes at everything that came off his mouth. “So, I thought we can go for, uhm, a coffee maybe? Tomorrow, after our classes.”

You raised your eyebrows, gawking at him.

“It's all on me. As an apology.” Hoseok added sheepishly.

A coffee? With Jung Hoseok? A hip-hop dancer who didn’t know what barre was? You opened your mouth to snap “am I joke to you?” but you stopped eventually.

To be fair, you had nothing to lose. He wanted to apologize after all, he was the first one to approach you and maybe that was how adults should act.

You looked at him once again, more intensely this time, trying to find any sort of fake politeness in his expression. But in his eyes there was nothing but genuineness. Maybe Jung Hoseok really just wanted to treat you in lieu of apology.

Finally, after a minute that seemed to last forever, you softened. “Fine.”

Hoseok's eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. Stop staring at me like that or I will change my mind.” you grumbled and he grinned at you boyishly, in the way he probably made people fall for him. Because with that kind of aura he emitted, it was hard not to. Thank God you could easily resist his charms.

“That's settled then. Wait for me after your practice in front of the locker rooms.” he said, while walking away backwards. “See you tomorrow, princess!”  

When he disappeared behind the corner, you muttered to yourself, “See you too, asshole.”, adjusting the straps of your gym bag.  

It was a good while after that day when you realised that some people really did deserve second chances.  

And Jung Hoseok was one of those kind.

Your third meeting with Jung Hoseok was a date. Actually, it wasn’t a date at all. You called it ‘coffee for the peace’. United we stand, divided we fall, they said.

Or to paraphrase Fergie: little coffee never killed nobody.

You found yourself standing in front of the mirror in the locker rooms, eyeing yourself with contorted look. Your hair was a mess, which you blamed the weather for. Even though mother nature stopped bombarding the city with rainfalls, the humidity was still there, lurking around the corners and waiting for the right moment to attack. You didn’t even know why you cared so much about your appearance. It was just a coffee, nothing more, nothing less, for God's sake.

With a sigh, you bent over to tie your shoes, and then you heard a voice coming from behind you. The same low, teasing tone that could only belong to–

“Didn't know you've been hiding this under your ballerina skirt all time,” Hoseok mused. “What a waste.”

You twirled around with a speed of light, facing him with slightly pinkish cheeks. It wasn't everyday that someone non-explicitly talked about your ass, especially someone like him. It wasn’t even on full display because you had your leggings on and you knew he was joking but still, your face felt hotter.

“What are doing here? You aren't supposed to be here, it's ladies locker room!” you hissed.  

Hoseok shrugged his shoulders. “You’ve been here forever, so I decided to check if you didn't slip on your point shoes and died.”

You raised your left eyebrow. “Very funny. Now give me a minute and we can go wherever you want.”

“Watch your words, princess, beacuse I might take your offer seriously.”

He couldn't see you but you rolled your eyes hearing him say this regardless. You took your bag from the porch and turned around to face him with a bored expression written all over your features.  

“Don't act like you're doing this as a punishment. You won’t regret, I promise,” After climbing off the stairs, Hoseok opened the door and you embarked on a street. “This place isn't far away from here, just a ten minutes walk.” he explained, choosing a direction you didn’t know.

To distract yourself a little, you started to observe the neighborhood. It was less crowded here, the usual smell from cheap restaurants was less palpable now. You were walking down the street you weren’t familiar with, you hadn’t had a chance to explore it like that yet.  

It was dead quiet between you despite the hustle of the city. You weren’t used to this kind of silence and even though you certainly weren’t a master of small-talks, at least you had to try loosen up the heavy atmosphere a little.

“So,” you trailed off, “You seem to know this part of the city pretty well.”  

Hoseok hummed, taking another turn that seemed to be some kind of a cutoff. “My old dance school I used to go is here, in this area,” he said. “I moved to the boarding school in Seoul from Gwangju when I was sixteen beacuse I wanted to pursue dancing. My parents weren’t very fond of it, but I told them that high school I chose had a very promising programme for kids who wanted to be business majors in the future as they wanted me to be.”

“And did you do something with that? Business, I mean,” you asked.  

He scrunched his nose. “Nah, not really.” He looked like he didn't want to elaborate on that more, so you didn’t press him further. “Enough storytime for now. We're here.”

There you stood in front of a simple coffee shop like many others. Blue Side, signboard said in swirly fonts and English spelling. There was nothing distinctive about it, just an ordinary place you could find in neighborhoods like this in every single city, but you knew places like this one sometimes had living souls inside, telling their own stories.  

Blue Side indoors looked exactly like the name was saying: azure walls, paired with modern white chairs and tables, grayish cloths adoring them. Classy, tasteful decor, someone would say, but one thing seemed completely out of place: big, framed pictures of sunflowers, your favourite plants, hanging on the walls like on a blue sky.  

There was something bizarre about it, they didn’t match the rest of the decoration at all but at the same time they seemed to fit perfectly. They were bringing strange kind of calmness and halcyon aura to the place, marked with cold tones but broken through the yellow warmth.

Hoseok lead you to the table by the window. There wasn’t a lot of people beside you here, so a young looking waitress with dyed pink hair approached you pretty quickly, handing menus. She grinned broadly at Hoseok, too courteous for your liking, and for a moment you wondered just how many coffees the waitress served him before. Probably a good amount, judging by the way he returned the smile.

You looked through the positions briefly, before deciding on a simple espresso. Hoseok didn’t even open his. Regular customer, you thought to yourself, flesh and bones.

Awkward silence fell between you again and this time Hoseok was the one to break it.

“It's weird seeing you without your ballerina outfit,” he said, startling you. “And your hair isn’t in a bun today,” He pointed at the top of his head, tracing invisible circles in the air.

“Is that a bad thing?’’

Hoseok’s smile was smug when he spoke. “Not at all. You look good like this. Not so dramatic.”

You huffed. “I'm not dramatic.”

“Says the person who almost kicked me and my kids out of the practice room, and called me hip-hop choreographer wanna be.”

You opened your mouth to snap a witty response at him but the pink-haired waitress came to collect the orders. Maybe you were losing your mind but you could swear her lips weren't tainted in fuschia before.

“Just an espresso for me,” you said, sending the waitress a forced smile.

“Caramel frappuccino with–” Hoseok started, but the waitress interrupted him.

“With extra cream, got it.” she finished his sentence, clearly proud of herself.

You bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress an urge to chuckle. Hoseok sent a polite smile to the girl and averted his gaze to you. The points of his ears were slightly flushed in red.

“So yeah,” he uttered, scartching the back of his neck. “Where were we?”

For a moment you thought about teasing him a little more, but eventually you resigned. He looked enough flustered right now and you’re not that devil as you had thought.

“We were talking about me looking dramatic with a bun and tutu on,” you prompted instead.

“You know that's not what I meant.”

You ignored him. “Anyway, you too don't look today like a hip-hop choreographer wanna be.”

That was true, he didn’t remind you of the sweaty Hoseok in grey sweatpants you were seeing every Friday and Saturday on the halls of Just Dance after blasting Spotify Global Top 50 for a whole hour.

This Hoseok who was sitting in front of you was wearing ripped jeans and leather jacket paired with ankle boots you wouldn’t mind buying for yourself in a smaller size. Daredevil, that was a good word to describe him. Dangerous, daring, and maybe d–yeah, dumbass, your brain suggested.  

Yet, one thing was still the same about him.

“What's with you and those t-shirts?’’ you blurted out before you could stop yourself.  

Hoseok snorted at that. ‘’I like the band, so I wear t-shirts with their name on. It's as simple as that, princess. But I don't expect you to understand since you probably don't know who Joy Division is.”

You placed your palm on your chest, more offended by his words that you would like to admit. ‘’Of course I know who Joy Division is. I'm ballerina, not stupid,” you scoffed. ‘’Love will tear us apart is their song, isn’t it? I’ve been through this edgy phase on Tumblr in 2015. I know what I’m taking about.”

Hoseok looked at you with raised eyebrows and there was something in his eyes you couldn’t put your finger on. Was it amusement? Curiosity?  

You didn’t have a lot of time to think about it though, because the waitress was back with your orders. Again starstrucked by Hoseok. Again smiling sweetly like kpop female idols on music shows.  

While she finally put your coffees on the table (she spent definitely too much time doing it) and walked away, you spoke once more.

“I don’t get it,” you said and Hoseok muttered “what?”, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’ve never seen someone doing a choreography to Drake's song and be dressed like cliché rock band member the next day.”

Hoseok placed his cup down and looked at you with a smirk. “I have many faces you don't know about yet, princess.” he warned. Dangerous, daring, dumb–

“And when am I going to find out?” you countered.  

“If you keep going for a coffee with me after our practices, I might reveal more of myself to you. As long as you are going to do the same in return.”

At that, you raised your eyebrows. Hoseok's eyes were challenging, asking you to pick up the dare and get to know him more and more, slice him layer after layer. Your subconscious was telling you there was so much more than meets the eye about Jung Hoseok than his annoying retorts and edgy t-shirts. And you were there to witness all of it.

“Fine,” you finally agreed, eyes narrowed. “We can hang out after classes. Sometimes.”

Hoseok grinned. “Great. Now, let's start getting to know each other!”

You're eyes widened comically. “Woah, slow down, boy. You know my name, know that I teach ballet and that I like espresso. What else should I tell you on our first dat–meeting?” you corrected yourself quickly. Date was a sacred word. Definitely not reserved for a man like Jung Hoseok.

“Oh, please. I also know it's better not to get on your nerves,” he pointed out. Smartass. “Tell me about how all of this happened. How did you become a ballerina.” he suggested.

You took a big sip of your coffee.  “That's a quite long story,” you said languidly.

“I don't mind. We have time.”  

You stared at him for a moment. He looked slightly out of picture, sitting in a quiet coffee shop, drinking a cup of the sweetest drink you could ever think of, while wearing clothes that made him look like he belonged to shady bars, where he could be surrounded by sleazy people sipping on their scotch whiskeys. There should have been a cigarette caught between his lips and fumes of smoke swirling around his features, but there was solace and the smell of caramel. Jung Hoseok, with a picture of sunflowers behind his back looked like no one you had ever met before.

And this kind of enigma that was this boy inflamed a strange curiosity in you.

So you picked up a dare.  

“Well,” you began, “It all started when I was in kindergarten. You know how it is, when you are five years old and your parents want to divert their unfulfilled ambitions into you. You could say I was this type of kid, kinda. My mum was a ballerina when she was young, so was her mother, but when she got pregnant with me in very early stage of her relationship with dad, she had to stop her career and took care of me. Dad was constantly working, travelling here and there to gain as much money as he could for us,” you explained.

“Mum always told me that my grandparents weren’t quite fond of their relationship. Especially my mum's. You know, dad used to be some kind of a bad boy back then,” you chuckled, remembering the pictures mum showed you. Leather jackets, motorbikes and self made cigarettes. “Grandma constantly blamed him for ruining mum's dreams, for debauching her and then, I happened,” you paused to gulp a sip of your coffee and continued. “So yeah, my grandma never forgave dad. However, after years she had grown to tolerate him to the point she didn’t throttle him during Christmas.”

You smiled, thinking how your dad and grandma avoided any unnecessary conversations between them. It was all civil, good mornings and goodbyes spoke in casual tone, but the tension was so thick that any sudden impulse, like dad talking about old times after a few glasses of wine, could break everything they had built through years.

“It was actually my dad who took me to the ballet classes first. My mum never wanted me to follow her footsteps but dad somehow tried to, I don't know, redeem himself? He felt responsible for a long time and when I think about this now, he just wanted to make his daughter a next little ballerina so my grandma could be pleased.”

Suddenly Hoseok interrupted you. “But don't you think it's unfair your parents did that to you because your mum couldn’t, you know, continue her career anymore?” he asked and you were pleasantly surprised to see him intrigued by your little story.

You hummed, contemplating this for a second before you answered. “You’re right, maybe it is slightly unfair but I actually grown to love ballet while the years passed. And seeing my mum happily watching my performances is enough for me.” you said. Ballet was your whole life, it always had been, there was no point of denying it.

“What about your grandma then?”  

“She died a few years ago. But I think she was proud of me. She never told me that verbally though. She was pretty bad at expressing feelings, but I know she was proud. I saw it in her eyes after my first big étude.”

It was in middle school, back when you were living in your hometown. Your group was performing Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker and you got one of the leading roles. You never forgot the look in your grandma's eyes when she approached you after the performance.  

“And what now?” Hoseok asked and you looked up at him. “What are your plans for the next, few years?”

“Now, I still have a couple of years to double major from ballet dances and psychology. And what would come after, we will see. I have a big performance in January that will determine something really important for me. And as for the future-future, teaching kids ballet seems really nice.” You smiled lightly.

You didn’t like to talk about your big performance aloud, since you weren't quite sure of what future was going to bring. It determined if you would get into four-months-long international scholarship in Russia or not. Only one person could win this. And you were strong-willed to at least try. You dreamt about it your entire life. To finally dance on the stage of Bolszoy Theatre, maybe go on a whole tour around the world with their crew. But that was for now a matter of your own luck and abilities.

“Wow,” Hoseok mused. “You have this all planned out, princess.”

You rolled your eyes. “That's just a goal, not actual plans,” you grumbled sheepishly. “What about you? Are you really a hip-hop choreographer wanna be?’’ You giggled but stopped abruptly when you saw his expression seemed to have changed. Gone was cocky, grinning boy he was just minutes ago. Now in Hoseok's eyes was some kind of sadness and melancholy that wasn’t there before. It didn’t suit him. He was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.  

“No plans. I’m just living the moment.” he said matter-of-factly, like he was trying to play it the most casually he could. It was strange behavior.  

Maybe Hoseok was right. He did have a lot more hidden underneath the layers he put on everyday. He just didn’t want to show it. Not yet.

The atmosphere condensed between you. It was thick and heavy with strange tension. You tried to loosen up it a little. It was probably your personality trait your friend would directly connect with your zodiac sign. “So,” you chimed in, “for how long this waitress has been giving you heart eyes?”

Asking that was completely unplanned but you had to think about something quickly, offhand. Hoseok’s features brightened a little and you didn’t know if it was because the question was about the girl or because you were the one asking him it.  

Ironically, you hoped for the latter.

“Chaeyoung, you mean?”  

Oh, he knew her name. Interesting.  

You tightened your grip around the cup unconsciously. “Is there any other waitress here who has a crush on you?”

Hoseok smirked after hearing your snarky remark but chose not to answer that. “Actually I’ve never had more explicit conversation with her, unless it was about the coffee. Maybe I should try, what do you think? She seems nice.” His eyes wandered for a moment to the place where the waitress stood, talking to a customer.

You smiled but there was no true politeness in this. Why though, that was something to think about on another occasion. “Yeah, you should. Totally.” you gritted through clenched teeth.

“Yeah, totally.” Hoseok agreed, nodding.  

For a minute it was mute but then he glanced at your empty cups and a small smirk appeared on his face. “So, where are you taking me next?” he asked out of the blue.

You blinked. “What?”

“I treated you this week, your turn is next.”

‘’I’m not gonna buy you food, the fuck. You treated me as an apology! I don't-” You stopped your outburst when you saw him snickering at you. “Why the hell are you laughing?’’ you snapped. There was probably a blush on your cheeks and you cupped them briefly with your hands to cover it.  

“Because I was kidding. You don't have to buy me anything, I can pay for myself. Relax, princess.” Hoseok grinned. He didn’t seem to be as uneasy as before, so you scoffed at him. “But honestly, where are we going next weekend?” he asked, entirely serious.

“What makes you think I want to go anywhere with you?” you challenged.

He just sent you his signature, cocky grin. “Am I that bad company?” he teased.

“Decent. You’re decent company, Hoseok.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Don't be. That's just me trying to be civil.” you warned, pointing your index finger at him.

“Great, I’ll text you about it soon then, princess,” Hoseok announced simply, ignoring your surprised expression. He reached for the menu still lying on the table and opened it. “They serve good lemon tarts here, want some?” he proposed, going through the other positions briefly.

You furrowed your eyebrows, still processing what he had said earlier. “You don't have my phone number.”  

“I do, actually,” Hoseok mumbled and his lips twitched.

Your eyes narrowed into slits. “How did you get my number?”

“Soyeon. I asked her and she gave me.” Hoseok answered simply, shrugging his shoulders.  

A shocked gasp left your lips. “Soyeon, the receptionist? You swooned her over to get my number? She's married!” you exclaimed, staring at him in disbelief.  

Now it was Hoseok's turn to roll his eyes. “Not my fault she couldn't resist my smile and sweet words.”

You sighed heavily. He was really testing your patience.  

“Well, what about those lemon tarts?”  

You tossed your head back, groaning in frustration that was probably heard by every single person passing by the coffee shop on this September afternoon.  

However, you missed the way Hoseok's lips stretched out in a warm, sincere smile.  

You did end up having those lemon tarts that day.  

You couldn’t explain why or how, but in some way coffee meetings after dance lessons on Saturdays were no more just them. They turned into late dinners on Fridays and random text messages when you were bored during your lectures, which most times were eventually escalalting to Hoseok sending you tiktoks and memes you had saw million times before yet you laughed at them anyway.  

It was a start of promising friendship, someone could say. Unexpected, with not so smooth beginning but blossoming into something much more than simple hanging out in your free time. But none of you seemed to notice it, not yet.

Before you could even blink, summer was officially over and fall started to make her way into the weather. Warm cups of coffee started to feel more and more reasonable with each passing day and one time you found yourself holding one while visiting Hoseok at his work.

It was Wednesday, you didn’t have any classes at uni that day and he texted you if you could come to the address he had sent. And you did, ignoring the cold wind and forgetting about the warmth between your sheets you had to leave. Which had been surprising even for you; a sacrifice for someone like Jung Hoseok, but again, you weren’t categorizing it like that yet.

That’s how you found out about Hoseok's other job. He worked at the Suga's Record Shop, where, as he had described it: you could buy legendary pieces of music while listening to another million dollar hits. He’d said he took the position at Just Dance because the actual interest in buying vinyls unfortunately wasn't increasing, so the guy who owned the shop, Min Yoongi was his name, had decided to reduce Hoseok's salary.

The shop looked like pulled out straight from 80s movies, with tons of records of probably every single artist you could think of. There wasn’t anyone beside you inside, so Hoseok walked you around, picking up different albums,  classics, as he had said and showing them to you. He kept talking about them with true admiration written on his features, babbling about how Joey Ramone and his band invented punk rock and you found yourself watching him with amusement glittering in your eyes.

Days, weeks passed and it was already October approaching, turning green parks into wide range of colors that could only be described as autumnal.  

You kept discovering more and more similarities between you and Hoseok than you would like to admit. One of them being your laicsm when it came to manga and anime. The solidarity was made one Friday after practices, when you both agreed on not understanding the hype after seeing some poster hanging out randomly on the street.

Music taste however, was another cup of tea. It was something Hoseok took his pride in, that was why he kept sending you various tracks encouraging you to listen to some good stuff until one day, with raised eyebrows, he learnt how wrong his previous assumptions about you had been.

“Oh my God, my song!’’ you exclaimed, when The Neighbourhood’s Softcore started playing while you were sitting at the Blue Side. It looked like the pink-haired waitress was absent, so were the latest k-pop tracks she constantly played in the coffee shop.

“You know them?’’ Hoseok asked, looking at you with bewilderment in his eyes.

You snorted at him. “Told you I had that edgy vibe in 2015 when everyone listened to Sweather Weather. The t-shirts are long gone but my love for Jesse Rutherford stays untouched.”

You started mouthing the lyrics but Hoseok interrupted you. “I thought you would be into some k-pop type of shit.”  

He received a roll of your eyes in return. “Hey, don't disrespect k-pop like that! There are nice songs out there, people just choose the worse ones usually and complain how trashy they are.” you said, pointing your index finger accusingly at him.  

Hoseok lifted his arms in defending pose. “Fine, fine, don’t cancel me. What about classical music then. Since you are dancing ballet and all,” he drawled.

“Do you want to know a secret?’’ You leaned over the table and whispered, earning a nod from Hoseok. “Most ballerinas know nothing about classical music unless they are pieces we use for our routines. Ask them about their favourite and the answers would probably be Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. I'm most ballerinas.”

There was a moment of silence before you both erupted into laughter.

For people looking at you from the distance, laughing together until tears formed in your eyes, teasing and throwing playful snorts, you might have looked like you had known each other for years.

Something was ending, leaves were falling off the trees and sun hid behind the greish clouds but in the warm embrace of a small coffee shop two people found themselves in a hold of affection they couldn’t escape, no matter how hard they tried.

Because love sometimes comes into people’s lifes unannounced, tearing apart their souls and making them vulnerable for others’ healing touch.

It was late evening on Friday, when you were sitting at your favourite ramen place, bonding over food like it was the most natural thing to do, talk between next chews, bites and occasional slurps of Hoseok's mouth.  

Miss Lee's ramen was cheap, not fatty and what was the most important – not popular among other residents of your neighborhood, so not many people decided to show up that evening as well. That became the reason why you had suggested meeting there with Hoseok after your lessons.

You were in the middle of playing 100 questions game, a new found way of getting to know each other better. It was completely Hoseok's idea because he seemed to be the most eager man to learn more about you that you had ever met in your entire history of dating which, sadly, wasn't impressive.  

Last time someone asked you so many questions, you were doing personality tests on Buzzfeed.

Now it was your turn to ask something and after discovering that Hoseok poured milk before the cereal, liked green the most from all colors and was scared of needles (that's probably why he didn’t have any piercings, you thought to yourself) you decided you were really bad at this game.

But then, you recalled the interview you had recently watched with some k-pop group and after swallowing a generous amount of pasta, you aimed the target.

“What's your most prized possession?’’  

Hoseok, however, answered without a second thought. “My drums.”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked at him in confusion. “Drums? Like the instrument?”

“No, like the cannisters.” he snorted sarcastically.  

“So you can play?” you continued, ignoring his witty retort.

“Yes, I do. I started learning when I was a kid. My dad owned a music shop. He was renovating old instruments from time to time and that's how I was gifted drums on my 10th birthday. The same ones I have till this day.”

You hummed. “So you’re hip-hop dancer slash drummer? And what, you play in a rock band too?” you laughed but stopped right away when you saw his serious expression. You gasped. “Oh my God. You do play in a band! And you didn’t tell me sooner?!” you exclaimed loudly. Young couple sitting few seats from you sent you deathly glares. You mouthed “Sorry!” and directed your attention to Hoseok again.

He simply shrugged his shoulders. “There wasn’t an opportunity before,” You shook your head in disbelief at that. “Told you I’ve got a lot more to reveal.” He smirked and fuck, you hoped the blush that covered your cheeks right now was from the spice noodles you had eaten.

So Jung Hoseok and his love for leather jackets and old bands wasn't unreasonable. You hated yourself for wanting to see him play, sweat covering his forehead and lips bitten in concentration. What a sight it could be. Truly mesmerizing.  

You had to stop your brain from wandering through such dangerous territories.

“So,” you started after clearing your thoughts, “Are there any other hot musicians in your band?” you asked, regretting your choice of words as soon as they left your lips. You wanted to slap yourself mentally.

“Did you just call me hot?”  

“In your dreams. Now tell me about your rock band,” you blurted out quickly and let out a shaky breath afterwards. That was very much close to a catastrophe.

Yet you didn’t miss the way Hoseok's lips lifted up in amusement, trying to hide the laughter blossoming in his throat. “We are actually a punk rock band. There’s four of us. Namjoon, electric guitarist and the leader who sticks us all together since 2016. Jimin, in charge of vocals and bass guitar, and the youngest member, Jungkook, vocalist and bass guitar player as well.”  

“How did you all meet then?’’  

You weren’t even hiding your curiosity at this point. You justified yourself by thinking it was your only chance to be as close to the real (punk) rock band member you would ever be.

“You probably won’t believe me, but we all met at the university. I was studying business for a year before I dropped out of it and that's how I met Namjoon, who’s been my roommate ever since,” Hoseok said. “I met Jungkook and Jimin through Namjoon. He introduced them to me saying they all took part in some underground concerts for amateurs and after that they started hanging out together. You might say it was a coincidence we all met like that but I don't believe it. I think we were meant to come across each other eventually, you know, to save punk rock together.” He laughed to himself after finishing his little story.

You smiled at him genuinely and there was no mockness in this, it was true sympathy and probably something else, not so easy to describe.  

You imagined four boys, with head full of dreams and hearts filled with raw passion, doing something the world didn’t believe in, but they had enough faith in themselves to prove everyone wrong.  

“So how’s the band called?” you asked.

“Punk’s Not Dead.” Hoseok responded, cheeks bright red with mortification.  

“Punk’s Not Dead,” you mused to yourself. “Sounds nice. Clever, I would say.”

“It's actually a name of the movie. It was Namjoon who made it up. He's the smartest from our group. After all he isn’t studying law without a reason.”

Your eyebrows lifted in interest. “A future lawyer playing in a punk rock band? I thought nothing is gonna surprise me after hearing you, hip-hop choreographer wanna be, are also a drummer. What about the others? Doctors? Stripteasers?”

Hoseok chukled lightly. “No, none of that. Jungkook and Jimin both work together as mechanics,” he answered, reaching for his now empty ramen bowl. You gaped as his calloused fingers adored with rings curled around the item, moving it to the side. Hoseok had pretty hands, you noticed. Hands of musician.

Sudden idea popped up in your head. “So when am I gonna hear you playing live?” you asked, smirking at him.

“Soon actually.”

“Soon?”

“Yeah, soon. We are having a gig next Saturday at Namjoon's brother bar. You should come.” Hoseok suggested.  

What kind of hollywood movie plot it was, you didn’t know, but you found yourself enjoying the main female protagonist's role probably too much.

“Next Saturday,” you mumbled to yourself, counting days in your head. Right, it was the day your best friend was coming back from Los Angeles and you had to pick her up from the airport.

You bit your lip. Ah, fuck it.  

“Fine. I’ll come,” you said. ‘’But can I bring my friend as a company?” you added and Hoseok smiled broadly.

“The more people, the better.”

It was a while after the concert when you learnt it wasn’t entirely a good idea but right now, with Jung Hoseok and his cocky grin he was flashing you, nothing else mattered.

Incheon International Airport was a place utterly unfamiliar to you.  

Last time you had visted it, was when you had been in ripe age of ten, welcoming back your aunt Jia from her ‘life journey’ to Tibet.  

Aunt Jia was an extraordinary lady, she had proved it announcing the whole family her departure to Tibet for a six months long ‘detox’, nearly giving your mother heart attack when she had talked about bonding through the nature and finding her inner peace in a temple among Tibetan monks.

But it was years ago, now aunt Jia was older and her interest in buddhism was way more sustainable, limited to buying different Buddha figurines in art decor shops.  

So today, you were at the Incheon International Airport for the second time in your life, again welcoming, this time your best friend Hana from her almost two years long stay in United States.

You met three years ago, both freshly graduated from your high schools and starting a new, adult life in Seoul as roommates. You had become close friends pretty easily, sticking together through ups and downs of dealing with real life shit, as you used to call it.

Ballerina and soon to be actress, both too dramatic for this world but getting along just fine through a whole year, until one day Hana had announced over a bowl of cereal she had received an opportunity to go on an international scholarship in USA she had always dreamt about. A lifetime chance, one in a million, as she'd said. Learning acting from American professionalists, walking down the never ending sunshine streets of California. Something only outstanding people can experience.

That was how Hana had ended up in Los Angeles, the City of Stars and the world's factory of make-believe. Thousands of kilometers away from home. Today, she was going to step on her country's ground for the first time in two years since she had been gone and you were more than thrilled to see her again in person.

She hadn’t exactly told you why she was back, neither she had explained for how long or, what was the most important and disturbing: why this was happening all of a sudden. And something was telling you it was all too suspicious, a perfectly wrapped half-lie.  

Hana said someone from her old friends from acting school had told her that the National Theater was preparing to do Victor Hugo's Les Misérables and suggested she should try her luck with castings, since she had played the main role while being abroad. It sounded convincing though, how wouldn’t, she was a good actress after all.  

That was Hana’s version of events. How really was, you didn't know, not yet. But you were sure something about this whole situation was too strange to be true. And you were determined to find out exactly what.

It was late morning in Seoul, foggy and with definitely too much humidity in the air. You were standing in the arrivals hall holding a self-made sign, produced out of boredom and your true love for DIY Pinterest ideas. Besides your friend’s name, you had painted palm trees on it and added glitter that was still stuck to some parts of your bedroom floor. You probably looked ridiculous holding it in your hands but you didn’t care, shifting from left foot to right. Waiting.

When you were about to check the time, you saw people coming up in your direction with suitcases in their hands. And then, among a crowd of nameless passengers, you saw a familiar blonde pony-tail and black polka-dot suitcase that could only belong to one person.

You could feel the roll of your best friend's eyes before you actually saw it, Hana shaking her head and chuckling to herself because of the absurd sign you were holding.  

When Hana was approximately ten meters from you, you cleared your throat and half-yelled in flat english, “There she is! My California girl!”  

People around looked in your direction with both distaste and amusement but Hana only sighed, until breath was knocked out of her lungs from the sheer force of your hug.  

“Oh my God, I missed you so much!” you mumbled into the material of her grey coat.  

“We talked and face timed each other practically everyday,” Hana grumbled but deep down, even if she didn’t say it, she missed you too.

“That's not the same!” you protested. “Lemme look at you properly,” You pulled away from the hug, putting your hands on Hana's shoulders and eyeing her carefully. She looked skinnier than three years ago when you had met but that was a question for another occasion. Her skin, gingerly touched by Californian sun, made her look like she had just come back from holidays abroad. “You're definitely too tanned for October,” you pointed out, earning a chuckle from her.  

“Come on,” Hana said, tiredness clearly apparent in her voice. “Let's get away from here.”

Back in the Uber that was driving you to your place, the atmosphere seemed to shift. Unspoken questions were lying at the tip of your tongue and you wanted to let them out instantly but you knew better. No rush, one information at the time. So you started from the simplest one, or you just thought it was.  

“Did you tell your parents you're back?” you asked and Hana visibly grimaced after hearing it. Of course she didn’t, there was no point of lying.

“Not yet.”

“When are you going to tell them then?”  

There was a pause on the other side of the seat and followed by a heavy sigh, Hana responded. “They still think I’m in California because my scholarship physically ends in two months. I will visit them home as soon as I’ll settle down in Seoul again.”

Settle down? You furrowed your eyebrows. She was going to stay for good here?  

“So what are your next plans?’’ you wondered aloud.

“Go to that try-out in the theatre next week, see if my stay in America was actually worth something,” Hana chuckled dryly, almost bitterly. “I was also thinking about finding some part time job so I could afford a place on my own once I get back to acting regularly in theatre. I don’t want to overuse your kindness.”

“You're not using–” you started to protest but Hana cut you off.

“I am practically throwing myself at you because I don't have a place to live. But don't worry, that's not for a long time.” She smiled lightly and you reciprocated the gesture. Hana then turned her head to the window, looking out of it for a while as you passed the streets. She murmured something about the weather that you didn’t hear well because your thoughts were somewhere else.

You tried to digest all the revelations your friend had just told you. It looked like Hana wasn’t planning on coming back to Los Angeles any time soon or she wasn't going to do it at all, but that wasn’t the most puzzling issue about the whole situation. It was strange because she’d never said anything about staying abroad for longer, not even once, until she met him. That happened to be some kind of an anchor for her, a reason why she had started questioning openly her further life choices. Had something happened that she changed her mind completely?  

You caught in the corner of your eye the sight of Hana absentmindedly playing with the ring on her finger and you decided it was now or never, you had to ask her or you will never be able to muster up the courage.

“What about Taehyung?” It seemed out of the blue, vocalized so suddenly but deep down it wasn’t. And Hana knew that. Her fingers ever so slightly tightened around the ring and then pulled away. “Does he know you’re staying?”  

She didn't visibly flinched, didn’t scrunch her eyebrows or purse her lips, didn’t protest. Maybe it was because she had been taught how not to show any emotions, maybe it was because she didn’t want to show any emotions at all. Her face was blank when she spoke, eyes distant and thoughts probably far away from the small space of the car.

“Taehyung recently got a role in some new Netflix series. One of the main roles actually, so it's going to take him some time to finish recording.” she said, not answering the question and she was well aware of it. It was right there on the tip of her tongue but she hesitated. Maybe the realization was too much to handle for her.

“So he seems to enjoy his stay in America,” you trailed off, watching as Hana smiled lightly but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Yeah," she nodded. “He is.”

And that was enough of an answer for you.

You had been watching Hana falling for Taehyung for solid two years since she had left grey streets of Seoul to drown in Californian paradise. They met in acting school and got the scholarship together. The most divine, the most talented students the school had. Somehow over the thousands of kilometers of homesickness they started dating. And you were happy, you couldn’t be more glad seeing your beat friend chasing her dreams with a person who cared about her by her side. But the news about engagement few months ago had come as a shock to you, although you had not said anything. Hana's smile when she had showed you the ring had been enough to convince you of her happiness.

Right now, sitting by her side and listening to her talking about it so emotionless, so blankly, you were sure that in every single Hollywood fantasy there was a crack.  

“So, here we are.”

After opening the doors to your apartment there was a slight pause, before you spoke again. “I know it's nothing special but for that price and in location so close to my uni I couldn’t find anything better. It's small but–”

“Can you please stop rumbling for a second?” Hana interrupted you abruptly. She was literally standing in the door with the suitcase still in her hand because you didn't let her in any further. “I told you it's okay. You allowed me to stay here even though there's barely enough space here for one person.”

“But still, the bathroom is like the smallest I have ever seen... Oh, and there's a soy sauce stain on the wall in kitchen because I still haven’t figure out how to remove it and–”  

The door banged loudly and you jumped from the sudden noise. 

“What the fuck! You know how easily I get scared!” you exclaimed, placing a hand on your chest, calming your rapidly beating heart.

Hana shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve had enough of your stupid complaining. Now, show me where will I sleep beacuse I feel like passing out any second now.” She placed her suitcase on the floor, taking off her coat and kicking off her boots.  

When you were living together as roommates, Hana was the one who organized the chores and yelled at you after making a mess and not cleaning up. She had been doing it as a matter of habit even during her absence.

“Sleep, yeah,” you muttered to yourself, shrugging off your coat as well. “Technically there’s no second bed here but you’re going to sleep here,” you explained, pointing out at the small sofa that was standing in a place you called ‘living room' just because it was connected directly to the kitchen. Beside the sofa, it consisted of the lamp and a tiny glass table where usually was a mess of your belongings but right now it was all cleaned and polished.  

Hana slumped down on the sofa, closing her eyes. “God, I missed that. There was some yelling kid on the plane and their parents couldn’t shut them up,” She sighed tiredly. “Now I can nap for the rest of the day. And night.”  

You bit your lip, looking at her slumped body. Today was Saturday, the day of Hoseok's band concert you had been invited to and you still didn't prepare your outfit or, what was the most important, for the whole week you hadn’t messaged Hana about the fact that she was, in fact, invited too. You felt guilty asking your freshly out of twelve hours long flight friend to come with you but you had no choice.  

“Hana,” you started and it already sounded pleading, not casual. She cracked one eye open. She knew when you had some buisness to her and it seemed like that now. “I know you’re tired, jet lagged and all but what would you say to a power six hours nap and going to a punk rock concert tonight with me?” you blurted out quickly.

Hana opened her eyes completely and now was looking at you dumbfounded expression on her face. “What?” she stammered out.

You moved to sit next to her on a sofa and took a deep breath. “So here's the thing. You know I work at the dance school now right?” you began and Hana nodded slowly. “I met a guy there. He teaches kids hip-hop. His name is Hoseok and he actually isn't only a dancer, he's also a drummer. And it might sound stupid but he plays in a band too,” you explained, avoiding her burning gaze you could feel on your skin. However, if you looked in her direction, you would see the soft smile adoring Hana's features. “We kinda started hanging out about a month ago and recently he invited me to his band's concert. And I really want to go but I thought you could accompany me cause I don't wanna be there alone all the time so, yeah.” you trailed off sheepishly.

There was a bit of silence and you were waiting for Hana to scold you but instead you received reaction you weren’t expecting at all.

“You’re dating some guy and you didn’t tell me?!” Hana bursted out. She had a mixture of disbelief and probably a little bit of betrayal written across her face.

You held your arms up in defending pose. “We aren’t dating!” you protested, scandalized someone could ever put words dating and Hoseok's name next to yours. “It's just some casual hanging out after work, just friends. Friends.” you repeated.

Hana rolled her eyes at that. She knew you better than you would like to admit but she decided not to tease you about it any further. “So, is he hot? He must be, he's a drummer after all and they are hot in theory,” She wiggled her eyebrows, nudging you with her elbow while you groaned in frustration.

“If that will make you happy, yes, he is good looking,” you sighed. There was a tiny bit of blush covering your cheeks. “But as I said, we’re just friends!” you emphasized the word again, looking at Hana intensely like you were trying to embed it in her brain so she wouldn't think something else.

“Will you go with me then? Please? I need emotional support.” you pouted. “Besides you owe me for letting you stay here.” you added and it might have been a little unfair move to maake but you didn’t care about that.

Hana sighed heavily, like she was really contemplating the decision even though she had made it a while ago, just to keep you in suspense for a little longer. She fought and urge to ask about said emotional support while Hoseok was only a friend and instead she nodded her head.  

“Fine, I’ll go,” she said, lifting her index finger before you could crash her body in a hug. “But I need to take this nap first.”

You grinned at her. “Thank you, thank you,” you kept mumbling, cuddling her body tightly against her protests.

“Now lemme wash and sleep.” Hana grumbled in annoyed tone but you knew she wasn’t mad at you at all. Deep down, even after layers of well trained, measured actions she had a good heart.  

“Punk’s not dead? What kind of name for a band is this?”  

You were standing before the door to the bar, side by side, watching as different people, mainly young, were passing you and coming inside. Hana eyed the pink poster that said ‘Free entrance!’ with her arms crossed over chest.

“That's the name for the punk rock band.” you said with a glint of annoyance in your voice, not even sure why somehow affected by your friend's words. You liked the name, it wasn’t obvious and sounded catchy. For you at least.  

Hana snorted. “I hope they are worth my jet lagged self that I’m sacrificing here for you.” she sighed, averting her gaze from the poster hanging on the window and pushing the door inside.

The bar, Dionysus, was Namjoon's brother’s property, as Hoseok had explained to you. They played their mini concerts here since they had met, actually gaining money from this because the owner was letting them take some part of the earnings from alcohol buying. Also, there was always a small box on the bar counter where people could throw their money inside if they wanted to support the group directly.  

Inside, there was a respectable amount of people already standing before the stage where everything seemed to be set up, except for the actual band members that weren't present, apparently hiding at the ‘backstage’ until their main entrance. You spotted drums standing at the back of the stage and you suddenly felt not so sure of yourself.

“There's a whole stage here? Geez, they didn't come to play,” Hana wheezed to herself, taking in the surroundings. “Do you want to drink something first?” she whispered into your ear.

You glanced at your phone to check time before answering. “I don’t know. I kind of want to be by the stage when they start playing.”  

Hana nudged your side. “Relax, I will push my way through those girls in leather skirts for you. Come on, let's warm up a little.”  

You looked in the direction of the stage once again but eventually gave up, letting her drag you to the bar. Maybe the drink wasn’t a bad idea. You didn't quite know if you could survive the evening completely sober.

The tall, handsome looking bartender smiled at you cheekily when you sat with Hana by the bar.  

“What can I get for the lovely ladies?” he asked, eyeing you both misheviously.

“What do you recommend?” Hana leaned her head on the hand, smiling at the man as well.

“I could make you my absolute speciality: Aphrodite’s nectar.” the bartender suggested.

“Go on, surprise us.” Hana said, earning a confident smirk from the man before he turned around to make your drinks. She rolled her eyes, pulling a few bills from her purse and throwing them to the self made money box with ‘Thank you for the support – Punk's not dead’ caption.  

“I could pay for myself, you know,” you muttered under your breath but loud enough for Hana to hear.

“Shh, don't say anything and let me support your friend with a generous tip before the actual show. Hope they’re worth it.” Upon her words, the bartender handed you your drinks with “Here you go.” followed by the cocky grin.  

Hana frowned when she saw pinkish liqueur poured to the vodka-size glass. “Seriously? This is his speciality? Pink coloured vodka? Isn’t that supposed to be called sex on the beach?” she scoffed and drank the substance in one go, flinching after she swallowed. “I've had better.” she commented dryly.

You followed her actions, drinking up the alcohol as well. You coughed a few times before you asked, “Can we go now?” It sounded like a childlike pleading but you didn’t care.  

Hana nodded after exhaling loudly and you both made your way to the stage, like she had said earlier – pushing through the crowd of other people. There were shouts of swears and insults thrown at you from every side but Hana didn’t give a fuck, practically dragging you by your hand while you were muttering quick apologies to every single girl in leather skirt.

When you reached very front of the stage, Hana grinned at you. “See? Told you we’ll be in first row. God, I haven’t been to punk concert for a very long time.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “You've been to a punk concert before?” you asked, confused with her words. Hana seemed to be taken aback by this question, like she just realised she had said something she hadn't indent to.

“Yeah. In high school. Like I said, long time ago.”  

“Why didn’t you–” you started but immadietly stopped, when the lights went out followed by the oooh! from gathered people. “Oh my God it's happening,” you half-whispered, clutching Hana's hand.

“Youjust referred to The Office without watching it.”

“Shut up!” you muttered, ignoring Hana's giggle.  

Next thing you knew, sharp lights shimmered and few, firsts accords of electric guitar resonated through the bar. You absentmindedly squeezed Hana's hand tighter. Then, more lights flashed, along with the thumbing sound of drums and the whole stage illuminated with bright, silver colors.  

You didn't even realise you were holding your breath the entire time. You eventually got back to your senses when one of the boys started singing an unknown to you song, probably self-written by them. His hair was pink and you recognized him as Jimin, remembering the photo Hoseok had sent you where he had captioned everyone. Jimin was leaning towards the micstand lazily, like he was purposely doing it this way. His guitar was dropped on his back nonchalantly.

Next was Jungkook, the youngest in the group. His mop of black hair was nodding along to the rhythm of the music, his eyes and attention solemnly focused on his guitar. He didn’t wear any jacket and his muscles on ink-covered arms flexed with his every move.

On the other side of the stage stood Namjoon, the one who Hoseok lived with and referred as the leader of the group. He also had some tattoos on his forearms but not as many as Jungkook. He smiled lightly at the crowd when someone shouted his name, showing the tiniest of dimples on his cheeks.

And there it was the last member. Hoseok.  

Your breath hitched in your throat. You had seen him dancing a few times before in Just Dance, ever so passionate but this was different kind of passion. He was fierce, completely devoted to what he was playing, hitting the notes like his life depended on it. He didn’t had any tattoos adoring his skin and his ears weren’t pierced like his friends' but he had an exeptional energy in him, power that he emphasized with every move, every tap of his drumsticks. For you, he was the most divine of them all, the brightest spot on the stage. A born performer, flesh and bones.

The song was catchy, something quite similar to the ones Hoseok had sent you after many ‘pretty pleases' from you. Jimin and Jungkook's voices were blending together just fine and you found yourself bopping to the rhythm of the music until you felt Hana's hand on your shoulder. You turned around in her direction with a smile that quickly disappeared when you saw her expression. She looked like she had just seen a ghost. Even in the dimmed lighting you could distingiush she was paler than before.  

She leaned towards your ear and half-yelled, trying to outshot the crowd, “I need to get some fresh. I don't feel well.”

You looked at her with worriedly. “I'll go with you,” you declared but Hana stopped you.  

“No, stay here,” she protested firmly. “Enjoy the show. I'll wait for you outside until it's over.”

“You sure?” you asked, earning a nodd from her along with a light smile that didn’t look much convincing but before you could say anything else, Hana was making her way through sweaty, bouncing bodies again. You watched anxiously as her blonde hair disappeared between the mass of nameless people and then, the song was over. You released a long breath and glanced at the stage.

Namjoon took the mic and tapped on it a few times. “Ehm, hi. We're Punk's not dead, as you know probably,” he chuckled lightly, making you smile, despite the uneasy feeling in your chest about Hana. “I'm Namjoon and I’m the leader of the group. I thought it could be nice if I introduce everyone before we start so... here we go. On the left, there's Jimin,” He pointed at the pink-haired man and audience, mainly female attendants, cheered loudly. Jimin smirked lopsidedly.  

Namjoon continued, “Next there's Jungkook,” The youngest lifted his head and smiled boyishly in bunny-like manner, scrunching his nose in process. He looked familiar, you thought to yourself. Strange.  

“And, our amazing drummer: Hoseok!” Namjoon presented and you screamed upon hearing Hoseok's name before you could realise what on Earth you were doing. Hoseok stood up from his seat and grinned broadly, waving to the crowd. Then, miraculously, his eyes landed on you and if that was even possible, his smile visible widened. You thanked whatever gods that existed he couldn’t see the way your cheeks flushed.

“Thank you for coming here today. I hope you'll have a great time,” Namjoon said. “And now, we are going to play our new song called Cigarettes after sex*, written and self-composed by Jimin. Enjoy.” he finished, nodding to his friends.  

The song was beautiful, it carried the lash of melancholy and sadness behind every single word that Jimin sang and he visibly felt it too, making it seem even more real by the sheer emotions of heartache written on his beautiful features.

They played a few more songs after that one, some of them were covers of the bands you were familiar with thanks to Hoseok and his signature t-shirts. Before you could blink an eye, it was over and Namjoon was thanking everyone one more time for coming and then they disappeared behind the black curtains after receiving a loud applause for their performance.

You stayed like that for a while, still basking in aftermath of everything that had just happened, humming to yourself some melody from one of the songs you had heard tonight. You turned your back to the stage, watching other people leaving the bar. Lost in your own world, you definitely didn’t hear footsteps behind you.

“Did you enjoy your time, princess?”  

You jumped in your place, twirling to the direction of the voice you knew so damn well. Hoseok was smirking at you while crouching down on the stage. His friends were also there, behind him, packing their stuff.  

When you calmed down your breathing enough, you shouted, “What the fuck, Hoseok?! I told you to not do things like that to me!”

He only chuckled in response, smiling cockily at the furious flush on your cheeks. “I asked you a question,” he reminded.

What was it? Ah, right, he asked about the concert. You pursued lips, crossing your arms over chest. You wanted to say it was showstopping, spectacular and all those adjectives Lady Gaga had used in that famous meme video of hers but you didn’t.  

“It was decent.”  

A smirk appeared on Hoseok's face. “Decent, huh? Wouldn't say so, after seeing you cheering so loudly in first row,” he teased. ‘’I'm flattered. I’ve never had such devoted fan of myself.”

He thought that pink blush which colored your cheeks was cute. Fuck, you were cute, trying to cover your embarrassment with an unamused expression.  

“I cheered for your friends, you know? Not you.” you mocked but it was pointless, he was already standing up from his position, knowing what was the truth.

“Come on, let's go to the backstage,” He made quotation mark on the word backstage while saying it. You grimaced. “There’s nice after party setting up there,” he tried again, this time pouting slightly and you eventually gave up. You had promised you would come, after all. Hoseok grinned when you followed his footsteps, walking to the supply base at the back of the bar.

“Jungkookie!" Hoseok shouted before he twisted the knob, whirling around for a quick moment. Jungkook lifted his head up in Hoseok's direction. “Don't forget to close the door when you finish packing!”  

The youngest member nodded, going back to his previous work.

Beside you and Hoseok's bandmates, inside the ‘backstage’ was the same handsome bartender from earlier, Namjoon's brother as you assumed, and a woman with dark, shoulder-length hair that stood next to Namjoon, leaning into his body. He had his arms wrapped around her, talking to his brother about something. She introduced herself as Minhee, Namjoon's girlfriend, extending her hand to you in friendly gesture when you approached them with Hoseok.

“Oh, we met before, by the bar. I’m Seokjin, the owner of this lovely place.” Namjoon's brother, Seokiin, said, shaking your hand.

“Hyung, you can't give it a miss, can you,” Namjoon grumbled behind his back but Seokjin ignored him. That wasn’t probably the first time he flexed about owning a bar, you thought to yourself.

“How did you like the concert, darling?” Seokjin asked you suddenly.

You rushed to reply. “Oh, it was really nice! I’ve never been to anything like that before but I enjoyed it very much.” you responded. Hoseok muttered something about you being a liar under his breath but you acted like you didn’t hear him. “I really liked the second song, the slow one.” you added, averting your gaze to Jimin who was sitting with his head bowed down in front of the vodka bottle.

Seokjin patted him on the shoulder. “Yah, did you hear that Jimin-ah? You’ve got a fan of your sad songs here!” he said, breaking into laughter but Namjoon stopped him by sending his brother a warning look. Jimin though barely even acknowledged his or your words, lifting his head up for a brief moment and eyeing your figure without any emotion on his face. Then he got back to the glass of alcohol again, pouring the substance into his mouth in one go.

“He broke up with his girlfriend like six months ago or something and still hasn’t quite move on,” Hoseok whispered into your ear. You let out an “Oh,”, sending one last apologetic smile to Jimin, even though he wasn’t looking at you at all.

Hoseok motioned you to sit by the table with others and you positioned yourself between Namjoon's girlfriend and Hoseok. The only absent person seemed to be Jungkook who was probably still fumbling with packing their stuff.

The conversation was oscillating around the concert. Hoseok mentioned that the audience had been much bigger than the last time and Namjoon kept babbling about some technical issue with his guitar that you couldn’t understand.

“Don't worry. I've been with him for three years and I still know shit about what he's talking about too," Minhee  said to you, probably after seeing your clueless expression. You both bursted out into laughter.  

You were supposed to ask her how had she and Namjoon had met but Seokjin interrupted you, walking in with a bottle of champagne.

“Where the hell is this kid Jungkook?” he grumbled. Hoseok quickly explained he was packing their stuff on stage when he last had seen him. Seokjin hummed and placed the bottle on the table. “And what about your blonde friend, darling?” he directed next question to you.

You froze in place.

Holy shit. You completely forgot about Hana.

You didn’t respond to Seokjin, so he assumed you hadn’t heard him and went back to opening the champagne bottle.

You pulled out your phone from the pursue and cried out in mortification after seeing the messages.  

[22:11pm] Hana: I was at mcdonalds across the street lol im heading to the bar now

[22:11pm] Hana: come up for me please  

[22:15pm] Hana: ???

10 minutes ago.

“Fuck!” you muttered under your breath, frantically typing a response.  

“Is everything ok?” Hoseok asked, his voice laced with concern.

You shook your head. “I forgot to come up for my friend after the concert. She wasn’t feeling well so she left and stayed outside.” you hastily explained, already standing up from your seat, clutching your phone in hand. Hoseok followed after you.

You pushed the door open, although the sight you saw behind them wasn’t anything you could ever expected. The surprised words escaped Hoseok's and your mouth simultaneously.

“Hana?”

“Jungkook?”

They stood facing each other, looking like they were interrupted by you mid conversation, probably in too close proximity for people supposed to be strangers. Hana's astonished face leaned out from behind Jungkook's tall body in the direction of the voices. Slowly, like she didn’t expect to be caught this way. And that was weird, beacuse she looked like she didn’t want to be seen in Jungkook's presence by the others, like their close proximity was something that shouldn't have been acknowledged.  

Jungkook turned around as well, however ever so recultanty. And then, when you saw his face clearly now, jet-black hair and inked arms, it all crashed you like a wave. That was why he seemed to look so familiar. You knew him, maybe not personally, but you knew who he was. The boy from Hana's photograph she had pinned to her cork board when you had been living together. A beach with crystal blue sea behid their backs, the same boy yet with less tattoos than now, carrying your friend on his back, both grinning to the camera like it had been the happiest moment of their lives. Until one day Hana was gone and so was the photograph.  

You felt like you were interrupting something too intimate for you to step in with your shoes like that. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but Hoseok helped you out instead. And you thanked him for that mentally because you weren’t sure of your mouth anymore.

“Looks like your friend is safe and sound.”

Hana snapped out of her previous shocked haze upon hearing his words and automatically composured herself. She took a few meassured steps away from Jungkook. Gone was the slight shock on her face, she was back to her calmed persona. “Yeah, I'm all good. I was about to text you I’m going home.” she said, her words directed to you. She then exchanged quick glances with Jungkook, glances that could look the simplest from other people’s perspective but not for you.  

Hoseok though, fortunately, didn’t seem to feel something was apparently off here. It was for the better he thought like that. “So you won't stay to celebrate with us?” he asked Hana.  

Jungkook’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. He was still standing there, unsure of what to do

Hana shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m still tired and jet-lagged from my flight so I will just wish you great time and go.”

“You sure? I can go with you too, if you want,” you suggested after containing yourself enough to finally vocalize some thoughts. But Hana only smiled at you. Forcefully, which didn’t miss your attention.  

“It's okay. I want you to have fun. I already called a cab for myself anyway” she reassured.

Hoseok protested. “Someone could drive you home. I’m sure Jungkook wouldn't mind–”

“It's fine, really.” Hana said firmly and you knew by the clench of her fists she was slowly losing her patience. At the same time, Jungkook's eyes flickered ever so slightly after hearing his hyung's words and then went back to his previous unreadable stare.  

Seeing Hoseok opened his mouth to protest, you took his wrist, hoping he would take the hint and not add anything more.  

“I must really go now. Take care of Y/N and have fun.” Hana smiled politely, looking at Hoseok and he reciprocated the gesture. She didn’t really acknowledge Jungkook at all, even though he had somehow his gaze fixated on her the whole time. But Hana did that all pursposelly, so Hoseok couldn’t suspect anything. She wasn’t stupid after all. Well crafted actress knew how to act.

She came up to you, hugging you briefly. “We'll talk tomorrow.” she whispered into your ear because she knew that you couldn’t be fooled so easily, that you felt something was not right from the very beginning since she had announced her comeback from the States.

Hana waved one last time to you, exiting the bar. You could swear Jungkook's eyes lingered on her figure a little too long to be considered unbothered, until he turned around and went back to the stage. You prayed Hoseok wasn’t going to ask him what had he been talking about with Hana or why did he even decide to approach her like that.

“Come on. Let's go back. Jungkookie will close the door.” Hoseok said instead.  

You listened, letting him take your wrist and walk to the supply base for the second time tonight. You wondered for a moment if Jungkook was going to chase after Hana, but you shook your mind from those thoughts. It wasn’t your life to make decisions and judge them.

A little while after you sat on your seat again, Jungkook came back as well and you somehow felt the rush of relief swimming through your whole body. He slumped down next to Jimin on the couch and said something to him you couldn't make out exactly, but pink-haired man laughed bitterly at that, filling his best friend's glass to the brim.

Next two hours you spent there passed like a blurr. You kept talking with Namjoon's girlfriend practically the whole time. You found out Minhee was studying medicine and she had met Namjoon through some discussion club she had joined in her freshman year. It had been attraction from the first disagreement, as she described it cheekily.

When Namjoon called for Minhee to talk about something on the side, you averted your attention to Hoseok who was sitting in front of his empty glass and scrolling through the phone, clearly  discontent with you intentionally avoiding his attempts to tease you about something you had said, or avoiding him in general.

“Aren't you drinking anything?” you asked him with raised eyebrows.

Hoseok snorted. “Someone has to drive you home, princess.”

“Bullshit. I can take the cab.”

“Well then, I don’t feel like drinking anyway.”

You eyed him carefully and then it hit you. “Oh my God,” you blurted out, trying to stifle the giggles blubbering in your throat. “You are not drinking because you are a lightweight!” you accused, not even hiding your amusement now.  

“That's not true,” Hoseok grumbled but his red ears gave him away. He was a bad liar.  

You pushed his chest with your index finger. “Admit it!”  

Hoseok looked at the ceiling and sighed heavily. “Fine, I am. And what about it?” 

You giggled. It was probably some champagne mixed with wine you had drank with Minhee speaking through you but you didn’t falter when you said, “Nothing at all. That's cute.”

Hoseok frowned. “Cute?”  

“Yeah, cute. You're cute when you're flustered.”

Hoseok parted his lips in both disbelief and annoyance because relatively speaking, you took it out from his mouth. It was his remark, for God's sake, he was the one supposed to say things like that to you. He hadn't drunk even a drop except one, symbolic glass of champagne yet he wanted to argue with you about it like five years old child. Because if anything, you were prettier and yes, cuter than him, and he had a sudden urge to spell it out for you.  

Yet he faltered for a moment after hearing abrupt glass crashing from the other corner of the room. You looked in that direction too, seeing half-conscious Jimin slumped down on the couch, Jungkook sitting next to him and saying things to him you didn’t hear. You could make out only “hyung” and “please, calm down” falling from younger's mouth.  

Jimin seemed like he had no idea about what was going on around him. When he opened his eyes for a moment they were bloodshot and glassy, probably from too much alcohol he had drank before, or maybe even from something else entirely. Then he murmured something to Jungkook and black-haired boy sighed, standing up from his position and approaching Namjoon and Minhee furiously talking about something in the far corner of the room.  

“Here we go again,” Hoseok breathed next to you and you scrunched your eyebrows, focusing your attention on the scene in front of you.

“Hyung, please–”

“No, Jungkook. We can't do that again.”  

“Please, I swear it's the last time. He won't let me take him home unless it's with her,” Jungkook pleaded. “It'll worsen anytime soon. I don't want to see him like this."

Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you think I don't know that Jungkook?! Last time was supposed to be last. And now it's happening again. We can’t continue it like this,” he said, looking in Jimin's direction where Seokjin was trying now to convince him to let go of the half empty vodka bottle Jimin was clutching tightly to his chest.  

“Hyung...”

“Stop arguing. I already texted her like 20 minutes ago when I heard he started talking about her again. She's on her way,” Minhee interrupted. “But this has to end. He–they can’t live like that.” she said and Jungkook breathed out heavily with relief, thanking her over and over.

Hoseok hummed next to you, making you jump slightly on your seat from the sudden sound so close in your proximity. “What's happening?” you asked him and he let out a long sigh.

“I don't think you want to see that. I should take you home.”

But before you could answer, someone banged loudly on the back door. Seokjin moved from his seat and opened them, letting inside a girl around your age, dressed in all black. Her hair was dyed in red and she didn’t have any make up on, assuming by the ungodly hour she might have been woken up or she hadn't gone to bed at all.  

“Who’s that?” you whispered to Hoseok’s ear.

“That's Nari,” he answered simply, like her name was carrying all the needed information without giving into other details. “Jimin's ex girlfriend and probably the only source of light in his life.”

Nari moved automatically, like it definitely wasn’t the first time she was in similar situation. She crunched down on the floor in front of Jimin's slumped body and touched his thigh lightly, murmuring his name. Jimin's eyes snapped open at that and he blinked a few times, focusing on the sight before him, like he couldn't actually believe she was there, with him, like his head was messing with him and betraying the bloodshot eyes.

“Nari,” he muttered and it sounded unsure, pained. “You're here. You came.”

“Yes, I’m here.” she replied with a soft smile, standing up to sit next to him on the couch.  

Jimin's hands reached for her, cupping her face in his shaky palms, thumbs stroking rosy cheeks, checking if she was really here, flesh and blood. “You dyed your hair,” he said softly with croaked voice, putting a strand behind her ear. “You look beautiful.”  

It all felt too intimate for you, like you were stepping into a scene you weren’t suppose to be in. You quickly averted your gaze somewhere else. In the corner of your eye you spotted Jungkook looking at what was happening in front of him with blank expression. He had seen it probably many times before, after all. Suddenly, strangled sobs echoed through the room and everyone involuntarily snapped their heads into direction of it.  

Nari was hugging Jimin's shaking body, rocking him back and forth as he cried out words into the material of her jacket.  

“Please, don't leave me.”  

“I won't. I’m here. It's okay,” she kept murmuring to his ear until his breath slowed down enough so she could say, “Let's go home.”

She motioned for Jungkook and he obliged, helping her lift Jimin's limp body from the couch like he weighted nothing. They left without a word, just like that, and heavy silence fell in the room. No one was in right mood to continue celebrating, not after everything that they had just witnessed.

Namjoon was the first one to break the silence. “We will be going. It's been a long day.” he said, placing his hand on Minhee's waist.  

“Indeed.” Seokjin agreed. “I’m gonna go upstairs to my place too. I’ll clean up in the morning.”

Hoseok also stood up from his seat, putting his palm on your shoulder. “Come on. It's time for us too.”  

You nodded, rushing to bid everyone goodbyes.

Outside, in the middle of the night, where all the demons had left humans bodies making them vulnerable for the bracketing world, you took Hoseok's hand in yours. It was warm, despite the coldness of the air.  

“What would you say if we took a walk by the river? I need to clear my mind.”

The puffs of air around your face when you spoke were telling you it was a bad idea, but Hoseok smiled in response.

“I’ll lead the way.”  

Long walks by the river were meant for warm summer nights when sun set lately and rose in the very morning before you could blink an eye open. They were meant for the steamy nights, when people didn’t have to worry about the coldness, when they could wander under the starry sky with bare shoulders and heavy eyelids.

October absolutely wasn’t reasonable time for the walks in the middle of the night but this time he weather was kind, merciful. There was no sight of the frost and even though it wasn’t the most pleasant aura, even though hands had to be tucked deep in pockets of the jackets, everything could be bearable.  

Maybe somehow, when you reached that point in your life, circumstances stopped being the most crucial, as long as you were with the right person.

Boulevards by the Han River were common spot for the citizens and tourists but not in this time of the year, not when fall was threatening everyone as a trailer of the winter. Colorful lights illuminating themselves on the surface of the water were always the same, no matter which part of the year it was; always mesmerizing, always spectacular even for the people seeing them every single day.  

This night however, they seemed to shine not as bright as the stars.

“I feel bad for Jimin and this girl,” you said, breathing out the puffs of air in the process. It had been silent between you and Hoseok since you had left the disaster of a party until this very moment, when you finally gathered up enough courage and inhaled cold air to clear your mind and vocalize your thoughts. “Do you know why did they break up?” you asked Hoseok.  

“I don't know the details, just overall,” he answered, keeping his gaze ahead of him. “The only person who knows the truth is probably Jungkook but he had never told us anything.”  

You hummed, digging your fists into the pocket of your jacket deeper.  

Hoseok continued after a while. “I didn’t lie when I said she was the only source of light for Jimin. Beside her and music, he has nothing to cling onto in his life. There's no Jimin without music. Always has been.”

The images from the previous hours shimmered behind your eyelids. Jimin onstage, feeling himself, singing like he wanted to burn his throat dry, playing the guitar like he wished his fingers grated on the strings. A fierce passion in his eyes, as if he wasn't doing it out of the habit; losing himself in the drumming rhythm because that was his only ability. Then you saw the energy slowly draining away from his body, you saw a broken man, vulnerable to the world he had never had any intention to care about, now caring about him.

You wondered about the others. Was music their one true love and burden?

“What about your friends then? Is music really that important for them too?”  

Hoseok thought about an answer for a little while until he decided to respond. “Jungkook grew up with Jimin in the same hometown. Childhood friends, always sticking together through ups and downs, younger doing exactly the same after the older. Jimin always took care of Jungkook and now Jungkook is watching by Jimin.”  

You let your mind wander for a moment to Hana. How did she meet Jungkook? There was no doubt they knew each other before she had become your roommate. Did she know Jimin too, if they were raised in the same town? Another couple of questions you were yet to ask but this could wait for now.  

“The band and music it's their whole life. They aren't like Namjoon, level-headed with actual plans after he finishes his law studies. Music is just a hobby he's going to put off once he's out of uni.” Hoseok added and there was some sadness about the way he did it, like they were another words at the tip of his tongue he wouldn't dare to say aloud because when unspoken, they hurt less.

“And you?”  

Hoseok raised his eyebrows. “Me?”  

“Yeah, you. Who am I talking to?” you sassed lightly. “How do you see yourself in three years from now?” you asked and Hoseok chuckled the same way he did when you questioned him about it a month ago in Blue Side. Bitterly.

You motioned for him to sit on one of the benches standing by the boulevards.

“Do you have everything planned for the next three years?” Hoseok countered instead of actually answering you. He waited for you to roll your eyes but you did the exact opposite.

“Well, my mum always tells me that it's good to set up your goals. Even though sometimes you might disappoint yourself when they turn out all wrong.”  

Hoseok chuckled. “There's a ballerina speaking through you, princess. And motivational speaker, too.”  

“Maybe, but that's not my point,” you fired back, twirling around on the bench so you could sit cross-legged in front of him. “So, Jung Hoseok, hip-hop choreographer wanna be and passionate drummer, will you tell me what are your plans for the future?” you asked again. When you saw him hesitate, you added, ‘”Come on, pretend it's like our 100 questions game. I asked you a question and you shall answer.”

Hoseok sighed heavily. “I think I told you once that I just live the moment,”  

“But everyone has some dreams,” you complained. Go on, tell me something boy, are you happy in this modern world,” you sing-songed, breaking into loud laughter in the process that made him chuckle shortly.

Hoseok stared for a few seconds blankly into the calm surface of the river before him, watching as colorful lights changed from blue to green. Sadness blending into hope. He took a deep breath before he spoke.  

“Remember when I told you I had moved to Seoul to attend dance school there?” You nodded. “And how I told my parents I was going to study business really hard so they could allow me to learn dancing?” Another nod. “Well, my parents were never quite fond of my passions. First it was drums but they knew from the beginning I treated it more like a hobby than a future career, so they let me do it. Then dancing came. I found something I really wanted to pursue in my life and they, how to put this, never quite accepted my choice.” he said, looking at his hands folded on his lap.  

You had never seen him more uneasy, the smiling Hoseok who teased you and and spoke about music with glint in his eyes was long gone and you didn't like this version of him at all.  

“You know, I’ve got an older sister. She was-is the apple of my parents eyes. The better child, the best daughter they could ever imagine. She studied abroad, speaks English and Japanese, has a well paid job that makes her afford a nice apartment in Seoul on her own. They wanted me to be like her too, but I guess I never came up to their expectations.” The words he never willed to tell, slipped from his mouth just like that, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.

There was a sadness coming from his voice and you found yourself wishing you could swipe it off his face because it didn’t suit him, because gone was Hoseok that made you laugh and played his drums like his life depended on it. Hoseok who conveyed his fierce passion for dancing to the kids he was teaching. All the layers he was putting on every day were slowly slipping off him.

And in that moment you thought how unfair this world was. Your parents gave you wings to fly, to make your dreams come true but his parents were trying to cut them off his whole life.

“I went to the university so I could finally please them, so they would say: ‘Hoseok-ah, we’re so proud of you!’ but I eventually realised it's not for me. That I can't live like this. I met Namjoon, then the rest of the boys. We made a team and I've never felt more free,” Hoseok confessed and for the first time this night, he looked you in the eyes honestly, deeply. “So if you asked me, what's my dream, I would say I just want to be happy. I’ve never wanted to be the best. I just wish I was doing what I love the most, dancing and music.”

You opened your mouth to say something but he raised his hand, stopping you. “If you want to pity me, don’t. I don’t need this.” he said, but it was your turn to shake your head.  

“No, I want to say something,” you firmly protested. You lifted your index finger up, pointing at the blackboard sky. There was determination in your voice, a need to convince this boy he was worth much more than he thought. “See those stars? There are literally millions of them on the sky, looking exactly the same from our perspective yet we all admire them. And I’ll tell you more. Every single one is different, special on its own terms,” you said, all the time beating the air with your hands. You ignored the way Hoseok stared at you with raised eyebrows and continued, “Now think about the sun. Yes, it is the biggest star, giant thing and the centre of our solar system but it’ll burn your eyes if you look at it for too long. Those significant stars won't do it and we all wish our dreams to come true while looking at them falling, not at the sun.”

A small smile appeared on Hoseok's face and you reciprocated that, sighing softly. “What I’m trying to say is that you don't have to be the greatest to be admired and respected. You are your own star.” you trailed off, almost whispering the last words like you were afraid of vocalizing them.

You were staring into each other eyes for a whole minute, before you got insecure and looked away with flushed cheeks. “I'm sorry. That was my probably still a little drunk self speaking, don’t mind me. Hana would say it is also my zodiac sign's personality trait.” You put your hands on your cheeks, finding them warm from embarrassment despite the coldness of the night.

If you glanced in Hoseok's direction, you would see him grinning broadly. Who was this girl, he had no idea. He just felt she was going to be someone special for him. His own green flashlight illuminating on the clear surface of the water.  

“No, it's okay. I really appreciate that. Thank you.” he said, making you hesitantly turned to face him with raised eyebrows.  

“You're welcome. I guess.”

“So,” Hoseok drawled, pointing his chin at you and then on the sky. “How do stars align tonight for Aquariuses?” he asked out of the blue. You thanked it was the middle of the night, so he couldn’t witness the way you furiously blushed.  

“Why don't you look for yourself?” you whispered, staring up at the dark, starry sky.

But why would he look at the stars, if for him all of them hid in your eyes?  

At some point, next weeks turned into a blurr while gloomy November was approaching, blending everything into grey reality. Life seemed to move on its own and it could be thought that things went back to normal again but deep down, behind set up facades, there was so much more left unspoken than revealed, lying bare and exposed on the table.  

You balanced your life between classes at the university, ballet rehearsals after hours and doing your part time job on weekends. With the midterm exams getting closer and closer, you somehow still managed to find time to hang out with Hoseok.  

It was weird for you, to spend so much of your free time drinking coffees at Blue Side, eating ramen after practices on Fridays or just listening to him babbling about some other hilarious story involving him and his friends as you walked together to the underground station, with your hand in his under the umbrella, referencing to Rihanna's song probably too many times than necessary.  

And normally, looking at you from afar and up close, seeing the intimacy you shared in your stares and muffled laughters, someone could swear you were already dating, that this hanging out carried so much more meaning than you would like to admit. But for some reason, neither Hoseok nor you wanted to speak about this aloud, to give your relationship a label much more bigger than simple friendship.  

People around you noticed, obviously, it was hard not to. Some of them teased, others decided not to bring up the subject for the sake of not starting a storm in a teacup.  

And life went on like that, day by day, as fall was cleaning the world from the last remains of summer, behind blurry windows a new spring was blossoming for two people.  

In the middle of November Hana moved out from your appartment after composing her life enough to afford a place on her own. She got a role in a theater, doing rehearsals every weekend and keeping her mind busy with work during weekdays, because she indeed had a lot to handle since she had come back. And certain raven-haired boy being present again in her life wasn't helping in this situation at all. If anything, his position in the equation made everything much more twisted and complicated.  

While your friend was burried deep in her scripts and old blurrs of memories, you were equally engulfed with paper work for your exams. You would have been probably still staring at the same pages for the whole night, if you hadn’t received a message from no one other than Jung Hoseok himself.

[18:56pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: get your ass up from the couch and go out with me today

[18:56pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: theres some punk rock concert today organized on the campus of YOUR uni  

[18:58pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: namjoon gave me his tickets since he cant go with his gf

[18:59pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: actually im surprised you didn’t tell me anything about this concert. shame on you princess  

There was a string of emojis after the last text and you rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your heart fluttered in your chest when you read go out with me, but you eventually composed yourself. Because after all this time, you thought it meant nothing. Simple hanging out, nothing more, nothing less.

[18:59pm] me: fyi i need to study  

[18:59pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: come on one free night wont make a big difference  

When you weren’t responding for a while, leaving him on read, he typed:

[19:03pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: pretty pleaseee

But he didn’t know you were already in the bathroom, notes long forgotten on the couch.

“They were sooo bad!”

“Hey, don’t be mean. At least they tried!”

“Oh please, I’m not punk rock expert but I know this Paradise City cover sucked.”

You were walking out of the small campus venue for the concerts, laughing until your lungs burned and cheeks hurt from smiling. The concert didn’t last long, just a few covers and one self composed song, more was actually happening right when you decided to go, leaving the ongoing party behind your backs.

“But they organized free beer. I think I might forgive them,” you added, slurring your words a little and occasionally bumping into Hoseok in the process of trying to stay steady on your feet.

Drinking wasn’t probably the smartest idea you could think of after considering two facts. One: Hoseok hadn't drunk even a sip beacuse he was driving. Two: you had an awful habit of becoming too honest under the influence. And combining those two things was like sitting on a bomb and waiting for it to explode any minute.  

You sat in Hoseok’s car with heavy exhale of relief. “Remind me to never drink that much again when I have to study the next day.” you mumbled, closing your eyes and leaning your head on the window.  

“Noted.” Hoseok sat down as well, smirking to himself. He reached for the keys but your next words stopped him.

“Can we like, stay here for a while? In your car I mean.” you asked with hesitation in your voice and Hoseok's eyebrows rose high.

“Why?”  

“Because it feels nice here. And maybe I don't wanna go back just yet.” The words slipped out from your mouth so casually that you didn’t even noticed the change in the atmosphere. To hell with consequences and aftermaths, to hell with becoming vulnerable when alcohol was swimming in your veins.

Hoseok smiled, even though you couldn’t see him. “Fine. But puke in here and I swear to God–”

“Geez, I hadn’t drink that much,” you snapped, opening your eyes. “Turn on some music, mister drummer. Hit me with that punk rock hits.”

Maybe you had drunk that much after all.  

Hoseok chuckled to himself, opening his Spotify and connecting it to the car's radio. “What do you have in mind?”  

“Do I look like an expert?” you retorted for the second time this night and Hoseok rolled his eyes. “Just put it on shuffle and I’ll tell you what I like.”  

He did as he was told and soon the heavy beats of something that said Stairway to Heaven lighted up on the screen in front of you. You scrunched your eyebrows. “Stairway to Heaven, Highway to Hell, what’s next? Freeway to Purgatory?”  

There was a moment of silence before you erupted into laughter. “Fuck, that was funny. Admit it.” you said, wiping the tears that had gathered in the corners of your eyes.  

“I'm pretty sure someone had come up with this joke before.”

“God, you’re no fun. Only intellectuals can understand this type of humor and unfortunately, you aren’t one.”  

Hoseok ignored your words, changing the song and this one you recognized more than well. “Leave it!” you blurted, causing him to smirk.  

“Ah, right. I forgot you’re that original,” he said in mocking tone.

Your lips turned into a scoff. “Hey, don’t disrespect Arctic Monkeys’ AM album this way. That's a masterpiece of modern discography, better than your ‘classics’ sang by old dudes. Alex Turner is hot at least.” You pointed your index finger at him accusingly. When he was about to disagree, you added,  “Besides, you have this on your playlist, so don't try to bullshit me right now. You like it as well.”

Hoseok sighed in defeat. “Okay. I wanna be yours it's a nice song. I admit it.”

“Yeah. It is,” you breathed, closing your eyes for a second, basking in the moment. “I always wanted someone to fuck me to Arctic Monkeys.”

Before you could stop yourself, the words escaped your mouth and your heartbeat immediately quickened in panic. Fuck, had you really said that out loud? The look of pure surprise mixed with amusement on Hoseok's face were telling you that you indeed revealed that you wanted to get dicked down while Arctic Monkeys played in the background. And of all people you knew, you had to do it in his presence.  

Screw your drank thoughts and fantasies, screw stupid string of fate that always played games with you, even now.

You tried to compose yourself a little, acting completely nonchalant about what had just happened. You wore a disguise of unbotherness as best you could (which was pointless, your flushed cheeks and uneasy way you squirmed on your seat said it all for you).

You wished Hoseok didn’t react, that he somehow had misheard your drunken rumbling but it was all foolish hopes.

“Careful what you wish for, princess, because you might just get it.” he whispered and you could swear his voice was lower now, it carried husskiness that weren’t there before. It wasn’t a warning.

 It was a threat.

You gulped, your face heating up instantly even more, if that was possible. Suddenly it was hard to breathe in a limited space of his car and you wanted to get out, to run away from him as fast as you could muster and hide, not standing face to face with him ever again.

But at the same time you couldn’t shake off the thought how good and right would it feel if you pressed your lips against his now, run your tongue through the seam of his mouth just to hear him groan in response, just to feel his teeth nipping the skin on your neck while his fingers were digging marks on your hips. 

You wanted him, oh, God how much you did, but you had to stop yourself before you made a big mistake.

The atmosphere was thick and heavy with unresolved tension, ready to snap in a minute if only someone made a wrong move. His words rang in your head and you wished you had never left your house that night in first place. Was he for real? Or had he said that only to make fun of you after?  

You were too scared to look in his eyes but if you did, you would see in them the raw desire swimming in his dark orbs. And if you did, you would know just how sure of his words he actually was.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you regained your composure as best as you could and muttered, “I don't feel well. Can you drive me home now?” Your tone wasn’t probably much convincing, if anything it sounded weak and strangled, so you added to lighten up the mood, “You don't want me to puke in here, do you?” and forced out a chuckle.  

Hoseok only nodded in response, reaching for the keys and turning on the engine. If he was disappointed, he hid it pretty well. After a few minutes of ride back to your home, there was mute between you, except for the music still playing from the radio. His words not even for a second left your head and you replayed them again and again just to make you more and more confused with each time you tried to understand the hidden motive behind them.

Hoseok was hard to read, you realised that since he had became strangely silent after you asked him about his plans for the future on your first coffee meeting at Blue Side. Now you knew why. He’d said he had a lot to reveal about himself yet, after all.

When you bid him short goodbye and finally reached the doors of your apartment, you crunched down on the ground after closing them and shut your eyes tightly. Somehow, tears started to ran down your face and you found yourself clutching your phone and dialing the only number you could think about in this moment.  

“Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?” Hana's voice was hoarse, she had been woken up from her slumber without a doubt. “You know I go to sleep earlier than you,” There was a sniffle on the other line and she changed her tone immediately. “What's wrong, bub? Why are you crying?”  

“I’m not crying,” you tried to protest shakily but there was no point in denying when you sounded like that.  

“What happened?” You heard Hana asking softly.

Another wave of tears jolted your body, smearing mascara all down your cheeks and when you calmed down enough to speak clearly, you mumbled, “I told Hoseok that I always wanted someone to fuck me to Arctic Monkeys.”

“Okay…? And how did he react?”

Another sob. “He said I should be careful what I wish for.”

There was a bit of silence before Hana sighed on the other side of the line. “That's not the end of the world. You’ve done worse things in your life.”

“But that's different this time.” you cried out hysterically.  

Hana smiled to herself even though you couldn’t see her now. She knew why it was different. She was aware for a while now, but she needed you to say this out loud.  

A loud cry echoed through the quiet apartment before you finally said what had been lying on the tip of your tongue for a while now.

“It's different because I think I really like him.”

And fresh fall of tears streamed down your cheeks.  

---

a/n: aaaah! it’s finally here! i was supposed to post this by the end of february but my laptop got broken and i got a new one yesterday so im sorry for the delay:( i hope you like it! 

ps. second part is coming in two or weeks! love you, julia. xx

[pettyprocrastination]

Rip Out Our Seams and Stitch Us Together

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Valerie Lord x Black!Fem!Reader

Chapter Five

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Profanity, mirror sex, choking, kind of face-fucking? a touch of voyeurism, oral-male receiving, penetrative sex, Mean Maxwell fuckin’ lmao, office sex, angry sex, how in God’s name did we get here I am horrible at writing smut so i just want to say i’m SORRY. 

Chapter Summary: You take the measurements for the richest family in D.C, Valerie is surprised by her how quickly her son has taken a shining to you and Maxwell has a late night at the office. 

Tag List: @captainsamwlsn @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @readsalot73 @cinewhore @this-cat-is-dea @holographic-carmen @honestlystop @favoriteff-allcelebs @teaofpeach

Chapters: 1/2/3/4/

“The Lords are coming by tomorrow.” Cassandra looked up from the book open at the register.

“But Mrs.Lord was just in yesterday.” She told you.

“Not just her this time.” You finished off the seam on the ground in front of you as you spoke. “All of them are coming in, her husband and son, the whole gang of rich folk will be here.”

Ever since Valerie stepped into your shop late at night four weeks ago, she made herself a common visitor. Oftentimes she’d waltz in, plop herself down onto a chair and begin to complain about Maxwell’s secretary with the horrid voice or one of her friends who was less of a friend and more of a pain in the ass. 

You didn’t know how becoming the friend of a heiress meant her throwing herself into your lap everyday to gossip about other rich people but hey, you weren’t complaining. She was pretty good company when the dust settled. 

Three days ago she had called your store, and told you she, Maxwell, and Alastair would be coming in to get measurements taken so you could get the mock-up of their outfits done with their approval to move on to the finished version. 

Before she could say anything else you had asked about her son. 

“What does he like?”

“What?”

“What’s he like?” You asked, as you spoke your hand picked up the needle once more and began to hem the dress in your lap. “You know, DuckTales, Transformers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I’ve got some stuff I always bring out when kids come into the shop but I don’t know how rich kids work. Do I just hand him money and call him sir?”

“Ha ha.” She droned. “You know if life as a seamstress doesn’t work out, you should pursue a career in comedy, you’d flourish.”

“Aw Val, I couldn’t!” You cooed. “You’d miss me too much.”

You heard her scoff on the other line. From across the store Cass looked at you like you’d sprouted a second head. 

“Nonetheless.” She said slowly. “Alastair isn’t into traditional children’s activities. He enjoys chess with his tutors, reading, and playing the cello.”

You fought the urge to ask if these were things he liked to do or things his parents wanted him to do. 

Maybe rich kids were just built differently.

“I’m just calling to tell you certain adjustments must be made for my son.” She explained, in a tone so formal you hadn’t heard it since you first met her. 

“Uh sure.” You sat up, concerned. “What do you need?”

 “Certain textures make him extremely uncomfortable for clothing, so be aware that the lining will have to be a soft, smoother material.”

You sat back, observing the swatches already laid out in the backroom. You could grab a few more of softer materials for him to feel and see which one he liked the most. You already assumed as such, since he’s a kid and you remembered how much you hated wearing your church dress because of how itchy it was. “ Anything else need to be done?”

“He can get overstimulated if places are too loud or crowded at times, but since your store hardly has any customers in it.” You could hear the smirk on her face over the phone and groaned. “I doubt that will be a problem.”

“It’s my pleasure to be of your assistance.” You snipped. A moment of silence passed between the pair of you. “But uh, seriously. Don’t worry about it. I’ve made clothes for kids and people with touch aversions before. No sweat.”

“Thank you.” She breathed out. “Really Stitches, I appreciate it.”

At her praise your lips curled into a soft smile. “It’s no problem Val. One question though.”

“Yes?”

 “Who the hell names their kid Alastair?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that Stitches, I’ll see you tomorrow.” A dial tone met your ears and you called out to Cassandra. 

“Do we have a chess board in the back?”

---

Valerie walked into her son’s room, clearing her throat so both him and his tutor looked up at her. 

“Alastair honey, can I talk to you for a moment?” The boy, only eight, nodded and closed his workbook before standing. The tutor however, shot a hand out to grab her son’s shoulder. 

“Mrs. Lord.” The tutor, a man graying at the temples who wore ties so bland she’d rather wear a nose, shot her a condescending smile. “I thought we agreed on not interrupting Alastair’s lessons. It’s bad for his focus.”

“Mr. Lanston.” She shot back in the same sickly sweet tone as she tapped a manicured nail against the wall. “Who’s house is this?”

The man swallowed. “Mr.Lor-”

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head side to side as if scolding a dog. “For a tutor you seem to be quite fond of giving out the wrong answers. So I will ask you again, whose house is this?”

The tutor shrunk back. “Yours.”

“Correct. And who is it that you work for?”

“You, Mrs.Lord.” He said meekly. 

“Correct again! Now since this is my house and it is my son you are teaching, I will speak to him if I please. And if you try and insult my son’s intellect by saying a simple chat with his mother will throw him off course, I will throw you out onto the street. Do you understand me?”

The man’s mouth opened and shut like a fish out of water. 

“I asked you a question Mr.Lanston.” Her hand tapped against the Cartier watch on her wrist expectantly. “I expect an answer back.”

“Of course Mrs.Lord.” He stammered out, before turning to her son who just barely came to his hip. “I’m so sorry Mr.Lord.”

“That’s okay.” He answered simply, before taking his mother's hand in his and walking out of the room. 

Alastair Lord was eight years old, had his mother’s bright blue eyes and his father’s dark brown hair (Maxwell visited a hairstylist regularly but would never admit it). He had already skipped a grade but his parents insisted on keeping track of his studies, even during the summer. Maxwell did it in an attempt to feel less guilty about being stuck at work all day instead of  being with his son, Valerie did it so nobody would ever get the chance to use her son’s intellect as a weapon against his own standing. 

The Lords didn’t agree on much. But one thing they did agree on was that they loved their son more than anything in the world. 

“Do you still want to go to the gala with us in September?” She asked him. Her son’s eyes flicked out to the large glass window that proudly displayed their immaculate lawn, a bird flew along the clear pane before flying up and out of sight. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I’ll go.” He said simply. He squeezed his mother’s hand in his with a small smile. “I like going to those fancy parties, you always wear pretty dresses.” He frowned, looking down at the floor for a moment. “I don’t like it when those old ladies try to touch my hair and kiss my cheek though.”

Alastair hated physical affection from those he didn’t know. The last business party of Maxwell’s he went to, a man’s wife tried to give him what she thought was a friendly kiss on the cheek because he was “such a darling little boy!”. Alastair ripped himself away from her in a panic, to which she then got offended and insisted to speak with his mother about his “awful manners.”

When Maxwell came to find his son clinging to his mother’s leg with tears in his eyes, he promptly had the couple thrown out and cut off business ties with the woman’s husband on account of her awful manners. 

From then on Alastair’s parents made sure he knew that if he was uncomfortable with a situation, he was to tell them and they would put an end to it immediately. 

“Your father and I are going to go see a seamstress to get measurements done for the gala. Would you come with us so we can get a suit made for you as well?”

Alastair looked up at his mother, blue eyes shining and ultimately passive at her question. 

“Sure.”

------

It was late at night when he came into his son’s room. Alastair was already in bed, nuzzled under his sheets and head resting against his pillow. Maxwell gently rapped his knuckles against the door before entering, his son’s eyes blinked open. It was always a shock how much they looked like Valerie's. 

“How’s the tutoring going?” Maxwell already knew the answer, Alastair excelled in every subject, but he simply wanted to hear his son speak to him. 

“Good.” His son replied. “Mr.Lanston said if I keep studying hard I might be able to skip another grade.”

Maxwell sat on the edge of his bed. “Would you like to skip another grade?”

Alastair was already a grade ahead, his teachers would message his parents about how well behaved and smart he was. But Alastair hardly ever spoke about his own experiences at school, about his friends or anything other than his classes.

“I don’t know.” the boy shifted for a moment, furrowing his brows in frustration and it was moments like this that he truly did look like his mother. “Mr.Lanston says it’s good for me to stay ahead of other but-” He looked off into the window of his room, a small sliver of moonlight peeking through the blue curtains. “Fifth grade sounds kind of fun, I heard the history teacher is really interesting and takes us on fun field trips.”

Part of Maxwell, the part still drilled into his head by his mother, nagged that he was sending the boy to that school to learn not go on ridiculous field trips. The other part of him, the part that shone when Alastair called him dad, felt guilt when he saw how apprehensive his son was in telling him how he felt.

Maxwell smiled, reached out to ruffle his son’s hair that was damn near a carbon copy of his own (before he got it dyed of course). “Then you’ll stay right where you are champ.”

“Thanks dad.”

The older lord frowned, before sternly pointing a finger at his son. “That’s Mr.Dad to you, young man.”

His son promptly groaned and threw his blanket over his face. “That joke still isn’t funny!” Even at his disgust, Maxwell could hear his son’s muffled giggles through the blanket and smiled.

“Humor is subjective, son.” Maxwell stood up from the bed, knees popping loudly as he did. Jesus, he was getting old. “Goodnight Alastair.”

Maxwell was already out of his son’s room and halfway down the hall when a tiny voice peeped out. 

“Goodnight dad.”

-----

“So what exactly does his son like?” Cassandra stood at the register, head laying in the palm of her hand as she leaned against the counter. The back room had been set full with different fabrics for them to see and either confirm or reject. Which in the classic Lord fashion meant they will either toss it at you with a stiff “this will do” or tell you it’s the ugliest thing in the world. 

You sighed. “Apparently he likes to read, play chess and the cello.” You looked toward the old checkers board set out and shrugged. “That was the closest thing I had so lets hope he isn’t as stuck up as his father or dramatic as his mother.”

“Speaaaaking of which.” Cassandra looked up with an excited grin. “You and Mrs.Lord are like, best friends now right?”

You thought about all the times she paraded into your store before throwing herself into the nearest chair (or your lap) before complaining about her day like a soap opera star. 

“Well I wouldn’t say best friends, but we’ve certainly gotten closer.”

“What’s she like? Has she taken you shopping? Have you seen her house? Is she as mean as everybody says she is?”

You pulled back for a moment, thinking. “She’s nice for a rich lady, no we haven’t gone shopping and I don’t think we ever will, I haven’t seen her house which once again I don’t think will ever happen, and honestly she insults me a lot but I think it’s her way of showing affection at this point.”

Cassandra giggled. “Like a cat?”

You thought about a cat- a fickle creature that will hiss and scratch in one second, and then demand all of your attention right after. 

“You know what? That’s actually a pretty spot on comparison.”

The jingle of a bell met your ears before a stern voice sounded out. 

“My god do you people not know what a broom is?”

You turned around, watching Maxwell enter your store with a crinkled nose. 

“I know what a broom is well enough rich boy, why don’t I go get one so I can shove it up your-”

Cassandra cleared her throat loudly before motioning to the tiny child at Maxwell’s side. 

“Oh, uh-” You realized the boy must've just seen you threaten his father. “Hey little dude. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you.” The boy responded. Alastair’s voice was just as tiny as he was. He had his mother’s eyes and father’s nose, but his hair was so dark it made you wonder which one of his parents bleached their hair. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, mam.”

Prim posture, perfect manners, not a single hair out of place. He struck you less as a kid and more as a robot but you bit your tongue before smiling back. 

“No need for fancy titles with me, little lord. You can call me Stitches.”

Alastair wrinkled his nose, a gesture that made him look so much like his father you wanted to laugh. “That’s a weird name.”

Valerie tutted at her son, blue eyes cast down in disappointment. “Alastair! Don’t be rude.”

“He isn’t wrong.” Maxwell waved off his wife’s scolding of their son. “Besides, I believe we came here to get actual work done on whatever horrid outfits you're making for the gala?”

“Of course.” You turned on your heel, leading them to the backroom where multiple mirrors lined the wall. “I’d hate to take up too much of your time. You’re a busy man after all, I’m sure you’d rather be off making your secretary cry or something equally as important.”

Maxwell rolled his eyes and shucked off his jacket, ignoring the twinge of annoyance he felt at even the mention of his secretary, someone you didn’t even know grated him so horribly. 

“Well we can’t all run rotten, hole-in-the-wall shops like this that just beg to be robbed.” He turned a sly eye to you with his nose tilted up. “Some of us have standards after all.”

You smiled. “I suppose you're right about that one Mr.Lord, I doubt my skills will live up to your expectations.” You wrapped the measuring tape around his bicep, using it to tug him so close his powerful facade melted into one of shock. 

“And yet-” Your voice curled in his ear like a tempting call, your eyes so focused on taking note of the measurement of his arm Maxwell hoped you didn’t hear his breath catch. 

“-here you are.”

Valerie looked up from the fabric swatches in her hand to notice the way Maxwell stared at you while you were blissfully unaware. It was hungry, surprised and oh so desperate. The same way she looked at you. 

All while you busied yourself with his measurements, unaware of the inner workings between the billionaire and his wife. 

Valerie was pulled from her head when her son handed her a swatch of fabric, a royal blue in color and soft knit against her skin. 

“This one is nice.”

She smiled at her son. Out of the corner of her eye she saw you wrap the tape measure around her husband’s chest. She reached down to playfully tug on the collar of his shirt, also a deep royal blue. 

“You’ll look lovely in it sweetheart.”

The conversation between you and his father was not nearly as loving.

“Do you have to play such obnoxious music?”

You didn’t bother to look up at Maxwell when he snipped back, you simply focused on the tape in your hands and the measurement of his chest which only made him even angrier. 

Obnoxious, what a perfect word to describe you. 

The shirts, the tattoos, everything about you was just so...loud. 

His eyes flicked forward when he felt your fingers ghost over his chest. Mirrors lined each wall, most likely so your customers could see what the clothes looked like on them from each angle. But as you leaned down to measure his inseam, his thoughts went other places. 

Places they definitely shouldn’t have with his wife and son in the same room. 

“Do you have to wear such disgusting cologne?”

Maybe it was your attitude, such defiance nobody openly showed him in fear of losing their job, or the fact that you were so different than the tucked in, prim-and-proper future trophy wives he fucked, or maybe it was simply the fact that your ass looked phenomenal in those jeans, but Maxwell couldn’t help but imagine fucking you in front of those mirrors. 

He wondered if you’d be loud, head thrown back and calling out his name as he fucked into you without mercy, without care. Maybe you’d be shy, you were so stubborn after all. Perhaps you’d bite your lip, trying to keep your noises stifled so you didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how good he made you feel. Maxwell wouldn’t allow that of course, he’d never admit it but he liked having his ego stroked almost as much as his cock. He wouldn’t hesitate to grab your jaw, forcing you to look forward at yourself in the mirrors. 

‘We’re the only ones here.’ His breath fanning out over your neck would make you shudder as you stared at your reflection just as he did. Seeing the way your tits bounced with each thrust and the ways your legs trembled and shook like those of a newborn. His pride swelled at the notion that if his arm wasn’t wrapped tight around your waist and gripping you close, you would’ve fallen to the floor by now. 

‘Let me hear you.’ He grunted into your neck as your whimpers got louder until you were all but shouting his name. ‘Good girl.’

“It’s revolting really.”

The sinful painting in his mind was torn to shreds when your haughty voice cut through it like a hot blade. 

He blinked owlishly, you stood in front of him, tape measure no longer against him but thrown over your shoulder while you crossed your arms. 

“What?”

“Your cologne.” You explained with a smirk. “It’s like trying to take measurements in a chemical factory. A little goes a long way Maxwell.” You gave him a sarcastic pat on the shoulder, one he was too distracted to push off because the way his name rolled off your lips. 

You had never said his name before. 

As quick as the interaction was, you turned to Valerie and Alastair, both sitting at the table behind you. You smiled and held a welcoming hand out. 

“You ready little man?” 

Alastair looked at his mother, who nodded her head and he slid off his chair to hop onto the pedestal his father previously stood on top of. His father took a seat next to his wife who said nothing. 

They both watched their son raise his arms as you held up the tape measure to him with a smile, you were saying something to him, most likely about school or his summer break. Valerie appreciated when you asked her about his interests to make a connection, but knew that was less than likely. Alastair wasn’t one to make connections, something she wondered if he got from his father by instinct or something that was drilled into him by his grandmother. 

Before she had been banned from coming to their house. 

“I’ll be working late tonight.” Maxwell told his wife. He knew she didn’t really care, their marriage was ten years of working late nights. Telling her at this point was just a courtesy. 

“Will your secretary be working as well?”

Maxwell noted the sly dig toward Delilah, but didn’t care enough about the woman to defend her. 

“If she wasn’t I wouldn't have hired her.”

Valerie ignored her husband in favor of the scene in front of her. She watched as you held the tape to her son’s leg, nodding your head as he spoke at length while you took his measurements. To say his mother was surprised would be an understatement, he hardly talked to his parents. Let alone people he’s only just met. 

Maybe something about you just brought out that side of the Lords.

“Alrighty, you're all good Alastair.” The youngest Lord hopped off the little step and you looked toward his mother with a jut of your chin. “You're up, Val.”

Maxwell looked toward his wife with a raised brow, mouthing her nickname in confusion. She was too busy taking your hand as you stepped onto the pedestal to notice. 

“So-” You wrapped the tape measure around her waist, mindful not to let your hands linger. “-how the hell did you two make such a sweet kid like Alastair?”

Valerie smiled at your reflection and ignored the way her heart jumped when you pulled the measuring tape just beneath the swell of her chest. “I’m not sure if that was an insult on my parenting or my personality.”

“Oh definitely an insult on your personality, without a doubt.” You responded seriously, but the tilt of your lips lent it to a gentle tease. “You must be doing something right because that kid is better behaved than you and your husband.” You looked up for a moment and she held her breath. 

“Or should I be giving this praise to some poor underpaid nanny you torture?”

Valerie scoffed. “Oh please, Miriam is hardly underpaid and she doesn’t do a damn thing right. I don’t know why we keep her around these days.”

You snorted. “Miriam?” The tape measure pressed to the side of her hip as you measured down her leg. “God, you people really tic every box off the one percent checklist, don’t you?”

Valerie hummed, painted lips curls into a smile. “We try our best dear.”

You stood up straight, hands moving behind her to wrap the tape around her chest with an awkward cough. Even as you willed all your focus on the numbers of her measurement you couldn't help but feel your face grow hot. 

“How unlady-like.” She murmured, you didn’t look up to meet her gaze but the smug tone in her voice gave it away. “At least buy me dinner, Stitches.”

You chuckled and spared a glance up. 

What a fucking mistake that was. 

Blue eyes stared you down like you have been presented on a silver platter and the richest woman in D.C. wanted nothing more than to devour you right where you stood.

“Something tells me I wouldn’t be able to afford it.”

“I’m sure I can make an exception.”

You realized Valerie was alot like the sun, you couldn’t look at her for too long without needing to look away. 

You stepped back to write her measurements down and put your hands together. 

“I think you folks are good to go.”

You just hoped you wouldn’t end up burned. 

Maxwell stood up and scoffed. “About damn time, some of us have real work to do instead of twiddling our thumbs and sewing little dresses.” As he walked by, his eyes flicked over yours in a poisonous glare and his shoulder knocked against yours with his son following behind him like a little carbon copy.

You looked toward his wife, who looked just as surprised by the worsening of her husband’s mood. 

“You’re one lucky woman Mrs.Lord.”

“Believe me I know.” She leaned forward to whisper with a wink. “But I know a few things that’ll brighten him up no problem.”

You scrunched up your face and pushed out every image that surged into your mind at her implication. “Okay gross, didn’t need to know that but thank you.”

“Always my pleasure Stitches.”

The door shut behind Valerie as she walked out to their car, throwing one last wink over her shoulder before sliding into the backseat next to her son while her husband slammed the passenger seat door behind them. 

“Well-” Cassandra looked over at you with a surprised expression. She must've noticed the fact that Maxwell had seemed to be pissier than usual, you did as well but assumed it was because of some deal that went sour at work or some type of rich people shit you couldn’t even fathom. “-his son seemed nice.”

“Yeah.” Their car turned a corner and disappeared from your line of sight. “They aren’t exactly the fucking Brady Bunch though.”

------

“Daniels-” Maxwell adjusted his collar in the rear-view mirror as he spoke. “-swing by the office. I need to go over some papers for a meeting I have tomorrow. Then take Valerie and Alastair home.”

“Of course sir.”

The driver turned left. 

“Mom?”

Valerie looked to the boy at her side. “Yes sweetheart?”

“Can I come with you the next time you see the seamstress?” Valerie looked toward the passengers seat, where her husband sat just as shocked as her. 

“You want to go see Stitches?” Maxwell asked. “Again?”

His son nodded, too young to realize how surprised his parents were by his answer. 

“She’s funny and nice and she doesn’t talk down to me like other people do.” Alastair looked up at his mother, nervous at her lack of response. “Is that okay?”

That seemed to snap Valerie into action. She smiled and took her son’s hand in her with a loving pat. “Of course sweetheart, Stitches would love to have you around.”

The car came to a halt in front of the Chimtech Consortium building, which stood tall, even against the grit and grime of the busy city streets

Maxwell stepped out of the car before ducking his head into the window. “I’ll be home late tonight champ, alright?”

Alastair held no disappointment nor resentment to his father for the time he spent at work but it didn’t make Maxwell feel like any less of a shit father. 

“Okay dad.”

Valerie leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, leaving a red lipstick stain in her wake. “I’ll see you tonight darling.”

Maxwell smiled. “Don’t stay up too late waiting for me dear.” He took a step back, watching the car drive out of the sight of his building before he frowned and wiped the lipstick off his cheek, which in turn left a red mark on his jacket sleeve. 

“Damn that woman.”

The moment he entered the lobby, people seemed to pause before greeting him, none of which he gave a response to. It wasn’t until the elevator door shut that he took a deep breath. 

Breathe Maxwell, you’ll run yourself ragged this way. 

A tiny titter behind him made him realize he wasn’t alone in the elevator. Out of the corner of his eye he could see brown leather shoes that he’d wouldn’t be caught dead in. 

“What’s your name son?”

The boy gaped for a moment before he found his voice. “Michael, sir.”

The door opened with a soft Ding! And Maxwell stepped out before turning to face the young man. 

Wiry frame, tall, yet hunched over out of pure insecurity and refusing to meet Maxwell’s eye. 

He was definitely an intern. 

“Well then Mikey-” Maxwell noticed the way his head snapped up as he spoke. “Get me a coffee and bring it to my office, just the way I like it.”

The intern squeaked out a quick “of course sir!” before the doors shut on him. 

Maxwell wondered how long it would take for ‘Mikey’ to realize he never told him how he liked his coffee or where his office actually was. 

He turned sharply around a corner, taking note in the sea of cubicles he passed, every employee pausing to whisper and watch him march past without speaking. The sound of marketing calls dissipated as he grew farther away from the flurry of lower rank workers. Huddled cubicles were replaced with sleek halls and grand windows showcasing the city view. When his eyes landed on the dark brown door at the end of the hall he nearly wept. 

Sweet sanctuary. 

 His hand had just curled around the silver door knob, the final obstacle between him and sweet sweet isolation when a shrill voice broke out. 

“Oh!” Delilah squeaked, jumping up from her chair with surprise. “Mr.Lord, you're here!”

She definitely should’ve noticed that he had gotten here earlier, given that she was his fucking secretary. 

“That I am Delilah.” Maxwell answered gruffly, eyes flicking over to the stack of papers on her desk that she would no doubt forget to file. “I do run this company after all.”  Before she could respond with some ass-kissing compliment, he walked into his office and shut the door behind him. 

Maxwell rolled his shoulders back, undoing the blue tie around his neck as he sank into his office chair with a groan. He spent more time in that chair than his own bed at this point. 

Truth be told there wasn’t much that needed to be done at work today that couldn’t be done tomorrow.  He had no meetings for another three days and he’d worked himself ragged the past few days to play catch up, now he was more than ahead of the game. He simply needed to be alone, to clear his head a bit.

But try as he may, he couldn’t calm the rambling stream of his consciousness no matter how hard he fought. When he opened his eyes again and spared a glance at the clock on his desk, he realized thirty minutes had passed since he first sat down. 

Maxwell groaned, threading his fingers in his hair and pulling in frustration. 

Why can’t you get the fuck out of his head?

That bratty attitude combined with your god awful sense of style should've made you repugnant, somebody he couldn’t stand the sight of and didn’t see as anything worth the metaphorical shit under his eight hundred dollar shoes. Yet here he sat, hunched over in his office plagued with your voice saying his name like a challenge over and over in his head like some sick chant. 

Maxwell ran a hand through his hair, setting each strand into place before he pressed the button on his desk and spoke with authority. 

“Delilah, could you meet me in my office?”

Only a few seconds later, she came scurrying into his office with poorly hidden excitement. 

“Yes sir?” That was one thing he hated about her. 

The fucking voice. 

It wasn’t her voice on it’s own, but it was the way she made her voice sound. She made sure to always talk softly, forcing herself up to a higher octave to sound sweet and submissive like a flute when she really sounded like somebody stepping on the tail of a cat. 

But her boss wasn’t interested in her voice to begin with. 

He pushed his chair out from under his desk by a fraction and unbuckled his belt. 

“Knees.”

She was quick to find her way between his legs with a sultry smile. 

“Did you miss me?”

Maxwell scoffed. “Hardly. Now do something useful with that mouth before I start looking at new hires to take your place.”

The smile disappeared and she looked down, uttering out a small “Yes Mr.Lord” before she took his cock into his mouth. Maxwell let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in, head falling back with a relaxed hum. His eyes shut as his mind, always his enemy, began to paint a picture he had been longing for all day. 

You sat on your knees between his legs, moaning while you ran your tongue along the underside of his cock. 

You seemed like the type to tease, he didn’t doubt that. But he enjoyed teasing just fine, as long as he was the one doing it. Maybe in the form of a toy nestled between your legs while he held a remote, turning it on and off with no pattern just to see you whine and buck your hips like a bitch in heat. 

His hand knotted itself in your hair and pushed you further down on his cock with a grunt. 

“That’s it.” You whined as your head bobbed up and down, tongue hot against his veins while the coil in his stomach wound tighter and tighter every time you moved. “You take it so well, just like that.”

A nervous knock sounded against his door. Maxwell’s eyes snapped open before they narrowed into angry slits. 

Christ, he just couldn’t catch a break today.

Delilah let out a muffled squeak and pushed herself off of Maxwell’s cock before his hand pressed down on the back of her head and bucked his hips against her open mouth.

“You make a noise or move an inch off of my dick-” His voice was even and ultimately unbothered as he spoke to her. “-and you're fucking fired.”

Delilah made a whimpered garble against him, he assumed it meant ‘Yes sir.’

“Come in.”

The door creaked open and in walked the same intern from the elevator, just this time with a Styrofoam cup in his trembling hand. 

Son of a bitch, the kid actually did it. 

“Well color me surprised Mikey, you came through.” 

The boy set the coffee on his desk, completely unaware of the woman crouched under the desk, deepthroating the seemingly unbothered man sitting before him. 

Maxwell took the coffee into his hand, taking a tentative sip before his face scrunched up. Just as he did, Delilah gagged loudly against him, causing Michael’s eyes to go wide as he looked around for the source of the sound. 

God he hated black coffee. 

“A touch too bitter for my taste, but gold star for effort kid.”  Maxwell's hand snaked under the table to push Delilah's head down another inch or two. Her nose was now nestled against the hem of his dress shirt, and he could feel her struggling to maintain the position by the way her throat flexed around his cock.

Good. Maybe that would shut her up.

“Next time try a dash of nutmeg.”

“Nutmeg?”

“Yes, nutmeg. It’s a nice wake-up in the morning. But for now that will be all.” Maxwell motioned to the door, to which the boy nodded and bowed his head like some servant. 

“Of course, have a good day sir.”

“You too kid. Make sure to shut the door behind you.”

The intern all but sprinted out, Maxwell felt his pride swell knowing even after he complimented the intern, he was still scared shitless of him. The moment his door clicked shut, he gripped his slobbering secretary’s hair by the root and wrenched her off his dick, leaving her to sputter and cough with tears in her eyes. 

“I suggest you make yourself useful, Miss Harris.” Maxwell slid his jacket off his shoulders and onto the chair behind him. He pulled a condom out of his pocket with a frown that never seemed to leave when she was in his presence.

 “That poor intern already knows where my office is and how I like my coffee, you might be out of a job soon enough.”

Delilah wiped the spit from her mouth and grinned. She stood on shaky legs in those horrendous kitten heels before pulling up her skirt and bending over his desk. 

“You could never fire me sir.” She groaned, gripping the desk like a lifeline when Maxwell entered her and began to thrust without giving her time to adjust to his size. “You’d miss me too much.”

Maxwell, still buried inside her, scoffed. “And what exactly would I miss Delilah? The cold coffee? The missed memos? Or you coming in late and thinking I don’t notice?” With each question he thrust in and out, in and out, a harsh unforgiving tempo that his secretary should be used to by now.

She arched her back with a squeaking moan. “No, you’d miss this pussy. Nobody fucks you like I do Sir.” The final string keeping Maxwell together, the one that everybody seemed to tug and pluck all day finally snapped when Delilah her next words. 

“Not even your bitch of a wife.”

Maxwell’s hips halted their assault against Delilah’s freckled skin, his eyes narrowed as he stared down at the back of her head, the pregnant pause filled the air that made Delilah realize right as the words passed her lips she had fucked up. 

She gasped when his hand wrapped tight around her throat and pulled her up off the desk and against his chest. 

“Talk about my wife again, go ahead.” Maxwell growled out, Delilah opened her mouth but no sound came out as his fingers squeezed tighter and tighter around her throat until her face went from pale white to bright red, the cold metal of his wedding band cut into the soft skin of her neck, the pain hopefully proving to be an effective teacher . “I fucking dare you, you even mention Valerie one more fucking time and you’ll wish you never pulled your lazy ass through that door to apply for this goddamn job. You understand me?”

When he loosened his grip she nodded rapidly, taking in a shuddering breath. She looked over her shoulder at him, legs trembling and a pout on her swollen lips. 

“I’m sorry.” She croaked out, voice hoarse from his dick and only made worse by his temper. His hand slid up her back before pushing her down on the desk where her body slammed down on the hard wood.

“I don’t care.”

Maxwell slid out of her before ramming back into her dripping cunt with zero grace, continuing to do so as his hands gripped her hips hard enough that he would surely leave behind bruises come the next day. 

He thought about the way the same bruises would look on your hips.

 Your neck.

 Fuck, your chest. 

Hearing you moan his name like a plea, a chant to God but Maxwell was one being worshiped. All the bite you showed him at work would melt away when he slid inside you with a groan. His fingers digging into the plush give of your ass while pounding into your sweet pussy that gripped him like a fucking vice. 

“You love it.” He spoke through gritted teeth, hair unkempt and falling in front of his eyes. “You fucking love it don’t you?”

You nodded numbly, gripping onto the table and just barely managing a weak moan. Maxwell’s hand came down on your ass in a stinging slap that made you shout.  He didn’t care who outside his office heard you, Christ himself could be standing outside and that wouldn’t be enough to pull him from you.

“You speak when-” Maxwell groaned, doubling over your body and rutting into you like an animal. “You speak when you're fucking spoken to.”

Your back arched as his voice growled out against your neck. “I love it.” You fingers dragged against his mahogany desk that shook with each thrust. “I love it so fucking much.”

“I fucking know you do.” His hips stuttered against yours, hot waves of pleasure threatening to crash over him with every thrust, every bounce of your curls and every sweet coo of your voice. “You were made for just my cock, just for me. Weren’t you?”

“Just for you.” You panted. Your knees knocked together as he pushed you into the desk more with each selfish thrust of his cock. “All yours max, only yours.”

Maxwell’s hand slammed down on the table next to Delilah’s head as he came with a low groan. Delilah, feeling her own high slowly retreating, whined. 

“Max please.” She begged. “I’m so close please just-” she squeaked at the feeling of her boss pulling out of her in record time as he cleaned himself up. 

“How many times to I have to fucking tell you, address me as Mr.Lord or Sir-” his eyes cut down at her trembling form. “-or don’t bother speaking at all.”

Delilah pushed herself off his desk with a weak nod. 

“Yes Mr.Lord.”

“Send a reminder to that archaeologist for this Friday.” Maxwell had already fastened his belt and taken seat at his desk once more, plucking the now disarrayed papers off the cool surface and shuffling them into a neat pile in his hands. He read them while he walked over to the bookshelf raised on the wall 

“She seems like a ditz and I want to make sure this meeting doesn’t fall through.”

Delilah frowned, tilting her head to the side. A gesture some men may find charming if they were ten years younger and didn't run a fucking company that this idiot woman worked for. 

“Archaeologist?”

“The mousy one that works at the museum.” He reminded her. “If you don’t remember at this point, that’s your own fault for only paying attention to the things I say when you’re on my dick.” Without looking up from the papers in his hand, Maxwell waved a hand in the direction of his office door. 

“That will be all.”

Delilah bowed her head, whether to hide the bright blush on her face or angry tears, he didn’t know. And quite frankly? 

He didn’t care. 

He was already focused on the papers he skimmed, deals and mergers that could break other companies while making him a richer man. 

At least that’s what he told himself while your voice was playing in his head like a broken record. 

Angry, brown eyes left the paper to stare at an unopened bottle of whiskey on the shelf that stared back at him. 

A wedding gift. 

The irony of it all wasn’t lost on him as he forwent a glass and drank straight from the bottle in hopes of drowning all thoughts of you. 

The bottle was halfway empty when he gave up.

[writing-red]

Like Father Like Daughter

Father! Remus x Daughter! Reader

Also Reader x Oliver Wood, but lightly, a couple kisses xx

Authors note: I SUCK at time, years, and counting, I do not know what the deal is in 1975 in the HP universe so please please excuse that, merci lovely reader. Also! This was requested over a year ago although, as we know that’s about how long it takes me to write shit.

Request: Remus having a 7th year prefect daughter and not knowing until he teaches her?

Summary: Set during POA

Warnings: ANGST and daddy issues! Death! Bc I like trauma

Word Count: 1.9k

After an incredibly eventful train ride to school, and ensuring that Harry and his friends were okay, Remus hurried up to the headmaster's office. As it was his first year teaching there, and considering all that was going on with Sirius Black Dumbledore scheduled a meeting with the new professor.

“I don’t anticipate it will be an easy year, but no year here is ever easy or simple. Especially since Harry arrived on campus,” Dumbledore said.

“It was nice to see him again, he’s gotten so old, and he looks so much like James,” Remus said, melancholy lacing his voice.

“The boy could use some good positive reinforcement from somebody who knew his parents so personally. Please, do not share information regarding Sirius, I would rather not bring him down. Instead, I would prefer he focuses on his studies. Especially since we have such a talented Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year,” Dumbledore said.

“Of course, now is that all for now?” Remus asked as he gathered his things, wanting to spend some time on the grounds before the student's arrival.

“Yes, I’m sure you’ll enjoy this year. I believe you’ll be pleasantly surprised by what Hogwarts has to offer.”

“I’m sorry?” He asked, pausing to look at the headmaster, confused by his statement on the school.

“Oh nothing,” Dumbledore said with one of his signature winks.

Remus smiled, unsure how else to respond. “Well, I’ll see you at the feast later tonight.”

“Certainly,” Dumbledore said, seemingly having forgotten about his odd statement, already focusing on something on his desk.

Meanwhile, Y/n went along with her boyfriend, Oliver Wood to the feast.

“I wonder what kind of crazy shit will happen this year,” you said, thinking aloud.

“Maybe we’ll get a somewhat normal year for once,” he proposed, hopefully. “And a good bloody season.”

“At Hogwarts?” You retorted. “Impossible. And of course you’ll have a good season, you’re the best damn quidditch player I’ve ever seen.”

Despite a bit of red flushing his cheeks, Wood brushed off the comment. “I wonder who this years Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is.”

“I haven’t heard anything,” she said with a shrug.

“Well we’ll see,” he said and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Enjoy your feast with Weasley.”

You smiled back at him, “Oh I will, it’s a promise.” you said before splitting, as you went to go meet with Percy Weasley, and Dumbledore before the feast's official start.

The feast went as normal for Y/n, she was mostly preoccupied with seeing friends she hadn’t seen since the last school year ended, and her head girl duties. Being a Gryffindor she felt that the year would present some challenges, considering the difficulties her house had caused in the past two years. Y/n had nothing against Harry Potter, in fact she was quite fond of him, having tutored him in a couple of subjects. Although, she understood the trouble he and his friends were fond of.

Remus on the other hand was unnerved at the announcement of the Head Girls last name, La Rosa. Her being Head Girl meant she was a seventh year, meaning she must have been born in 1976. The math happened in his head faster than Remus would like to admit. Remus absolutely knew a La Rosa in 1975 who managed a disappearing act after a couple of months together, and a small scare of sorts. Although, he brushed off the arithmetic, and Dumbledore’s dubious wink with a large swig of wine, which earned him a judgemental scoff from Snape.

Eventually, of course, the feast ended and the tired first years returned to their rooms while friends and couples reunited, and Filch stalked the halls with Mrs. Norris close behind.

Both Remus and Y/n’s day started off with breakfast in the Great Hall as each had a first period in their schedule. Y/n’s day kicked off with charms, and ended with Defense Against the Dark Arts. She ate breakfast with Oliver and a couple of their friends, yet left early enough so that the two could walk to class together without him being late. They had a couple of classes together but knew that as the year went on their other half would respectively get quite busy.

Y/n was having a fantastic first day, excited for lunch she made her way from the Towers to the Hall, which was abuzz with talk of “Professor Lupin.”

“He let us do actual magic in class!” you heard one third year exclaim with a great deal of excitement.

“I’m just glad he didn’t prattle on about his book deal for the entire period,” some Ravenclaw said to their friend which made Y/n laugh.

“How was Snape?” Wood asked as you sat down next to him, he had sent a couple of letters over summer bragging about how he wouldn’t be taking Potions, and she was.

“The same, angry that he isn’t teaching DADA, now I’m more intrigued by this Professor Lupin,” you responded.

“Merlin, Y/n, it’s the only bloody thing I’ve heard all day!”

“I heard someone earlier say, ‘I’m glad he didn’t brag about his book deal through the whole class.’” You responded with a giggle.

“I can’t believe they ever hired that man,” Wood said with a snort.

With that the two of you started lunch, your friends Ethel and Roberto joining you only a little while into the block.

You had a couple of classes and a free period from the time spanning between lunch and when you finally got to step into Professor Lupin’s class. The buzz about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. had turned into a roar in just a few hours.

Despite being early you were not the first student in the class. It being a seventh-year course there were only eight of you taking the class, and there were already five of your peers sitting at desks. One of which being your boyfriend who had saved you a seat near the front of the class.

“You are late La Rosa,” he rudely teased as you set your things down and sat next to him.

“You know I can go find another seat, right?” As if on cue the last of your classmates filed in and filled the last couple of seats.

“Can you?” He asked with a goofy smile plastered over his face.

“Well Weasley owes me a favor and I’m sure you’d love to sit next to him for the whole three hour period.” “Oh that’s just cruel sweetheart.” Before you could retort your new professor walked into the room, immeadiatley silencing the class. Oftentimes the last class of the day meant students were groggy, and had shorter attention spans than usual, but this class was on high alert.

“Good afternoon, let’s go ahead and introduce ourselves however you deem fit. My name is Remus Lupin, and I am clearly your Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor this year, any questions?”

In response you along with a couple of your peers shook your head ‘no’.

“Fantastic, let’s go ahead and start with our Head Boy, if you could introduce yourself sir?”

Percy excitedly introduced himself to the class, not failing to make the new professor aware of his many, many achievements, after him a slytherin you had a strong level of distaste for, and on it went until you were left as the last student to introduce herself.

“My name is Y/f/n Y/m/n La Rosa, I want to write spell books once I leave Hogwarts, my favorite Quidditch team is Puddlemere, and my favorite food is milk chocolate although I’ve been told chocolate isn’t a food I disagree.” “I have to take your side Miss. La Rosa, chocolate is in fact a food, and deserves its own damn food group,” Lupin shot you a smile, then looked around at the small class. “I feel like you should all be writing down that your professors favorite food is chocolate for when you have to impress me at the end of the year.” 

Remus was genuinely confused by Y/n’s presence. He had decent intuition and something about the seventh year was throwing him off, and it wasn’t bad which honestly only confused him more. He decided it would be better to get ahead of it in order to not let his thoughts ruin his teaching.

“Well that’s it, class is over. Miss La Rosa if you wouldn’t mind staying after class for just a moment?” “Of course professor,” you said.

“Ooh in trouble already?” Oliver said and gave you a peck to which you rolled your eyes. “I’ll see you in the common room later love.” “Don’t forget our meeting tonight Y/n,” Percy said as he sauntered out the room which earned a second eye roll from you. 

Even though it didn’t take long, it felt like an eternity for the room to clear. All of a sudden your throat was in your heart, or, something. Whatever it was something was happening.

“I know this is going to come off as odd but I have an important question,” Lupin said, his eyes kind, no sense of a reprimand coming.

“Sure Professor, what is it?”

“What’s your mothers name?”

You figured he noticed your last name, and had maybe worked with your mum.

“Marie Dulcinea La Rosa,” you said. “Why?”

Remus’ mind started racing at a million miles an hour. “Did she attend Ilvermorny?” “Yes, is everything alright?” “I’m sorry dear, just two more questions.”

You responded with a single nod.

“Did your mother ever tell you who your father is, and are you a werewolf?”

A look of shock crossed your face and you clutched your bag. “I’m not supposed to answer that question professor.” “Y/n, I am, I also dated a Marie La Rosa in 1975, that same Marie attended Ilvermorny.”

“Are you trying to insinuate-”

“Yes.”

You walked out of the classroom as fast as your feet could carry you. You weren’t quite sure where you were going but you were crying and you wanted to be as far away from Remus Lupin as possible and your mind was far to occupied to think up a destination. Somehow that destination ended up being Dumbledore’s office, which by some means was open to you.

“You must have known, you know everything.” Not the best choice of words but it seemed to get the point across.

“That Professor Lupin is your father? Yes dear I did happen to know that.”

“And how long have you known that?” “Since the year you were born, Y/n, your mother and father both fought in the war and your mother came to me when she was pregnant with you. She didn’t want your father to know because she wanted him to stay and fight when she couldn’t. She wanted to raise you away from the war but she couldn’t ask him to abandon the cause.” “Does he know that she’s dead?” “No I am afraid that he doesn’t.” “Marie is dead?” 

You turned to see Remus Lupin standing in the entrance of the office. He was distressed and had clealry followed you to the headmasters office.

You gave a curt nod to answer his question.

“Y/n, I am so sorry, I didn’t know, I shouldn’t have ever let your mother think that I would value anything over her and you.”

“You have to know how hard it is growing up a werewolf with absoluetly no help. With no one to help you through your first transition, with no one to tell you that everything’s going to be okay. Then on top of that growing up thinking that you were nothing to your father, and losing your mum at 14?”

Remus reached into his pocket and pulled out a mostly intact chocolate bar and held it out, towards his daughter.

“Let me fix it? Please.” It was a plea, and a kind request, an apology, all tied up in a chocolate bar.