#Been playing this game for three days straight and tried searching for content

[meikyuubutterflyofficial]

I've been playing this game for three days straight for no apparent reason

[potter-imagines]

Left Waiting at The Three Broomsticks (Fred Weasley x Read)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: Hi! I was wondering if I could have a Fred Weasley imagine where he pisses off his gf somehow and so she gives him the silent treatment and only talks to literally everyone (including George) but him so he gets all jealous and pouty lol. Eventually he gets her to start talking to him again and then it’s all fluff etc. Hopefully this wasn’t a confusing request! Thank you!! :)

Warning: Tiny bit of sexual content towards the end, little bit of swearing, kinda angst at the beginning ?? and a lil towards the end ?? I think that's all, a lot of fluff scattered about

Word Count: 9.5k (I am so sorry I got carried away)

Two hours. Y/n had spent two hours waiting for him. Two stupid hours on a Saturday night that she could have spent elsewhere making something productive of her day but no. The last two hours Y/n had been seated in a small booth in the corner of The Three Broomsticks waiting patiently for her boyfriend, Fred Weasley.

The thing that infuriated her the most was that it was his idea in the first place! Originally, the couple had planned a stay-in date in her dorm room for the night before, Friday, but other plans came up. Fred got tangled up in a prank with George that had landed him in detention with Snape for the night. Yes, it annoyed her but what could she do? It wasn’t like Snape would excuse Fred because she tells him they have a date. If anything, Snape would hold him back longer.

When Fred and George were finally dismissed, it was nearly eleven at night and Fred was sprinting down through the dungeons to the common room. Their arrangement was for eight and he was praying to anyone listening above that she was still awake, but not furious at him.

Skipping up the transporting stairs, Fred basically shouted the secret password at the Fat Lady making her narrow her eyes at him. She swung open, not without muttering about how rude he was, and Fred jumped inside. Ten or so students were scattered around the common room, chatting amongst themselves. Hermione, Ron and Harry sat around the couch near the grand fireplace. They sent Fred a wave, which he frantically returned. The golden trio watched in curiosity as Fred darted up the stairs of the girl’s dormitory.

Hermione looked back to the group and asked,

“Wonder what that’s about- he seemed in a hurry.”

“Heard him and George got detention. They put stink-bombs in the Slytherin common room! Heard it stained some of the furniture maroon!” Ron chuckled at his brother’s antics then resumed his debate with Harry over their thoughts on the Quidditch World Cup happening every four years. Harry tried to explain the concept of the Olympics to Ron, but Ron was too focused on how amazing it would be for the World Cup to happen each year. Hermione went back to her studies, blocking out the mindless bickering of the boys.

Above the common room, Fred Weasley was scurrying to his girlfriend’s dorm room. He hoped Angelina and Alicia were out so he could be alone with her. Their time spent together had been oddly less than usual the last few weeks. Fred had no change of heart- actually, he found himself falling more in love with her every day, but their final year at Hogwarts was creeping up from the woods and he was working on a dream career behind the scenes with George that was eating up his time with her. He had shared this idea with her before- but it was just an idea then. Fred and George planned on putting their dreams to action once they finished up the next year. He wanted her to come- George did as well, but he didn’t want to mention it until it was a reality.

Reaching his destination Fred took a second to compose himself. A thin line of sweat was forming near his forehead. This was the first chance he had to take a breather since detention ended. Fixing his dark robes Fred knocked against the door, quiet enough not to startle her but loud enough to hear.

“Y/n… Y/n… love, are you awake? It’s Fred-“

Abruptly, the heavy wooden door cracked open and a weary looking girl poked her head out into the quietness.

“Darling, did I wake you up? I’m so sorry.” Fred stepped forward and wrapped the girl in a tight embrace. Y/n’s head fell against his chest out of instincts. His arms fastened around her waist as he invited himself in the room, slowly walking her back.

“Here, go back to bed, love. You look exhausted.” Fred led the sluggish girl to her familiar bed. Throwing back the covers, he readjusted her pillows so there would be room for him to fit as well. Fred then walked back to Y/n and took her hand softly. Kissing the back of her hand, Fred helped Y/n get into bed then slipped in beside her. His arms snaked around her body without thought. The naturalness of holding her in his arms made Fred feel confident in his dreams of starting a future with her. All the tension in his body collapsed when she leaned into his frame. Fred held her close and kissed the side of her cheek lovingly.

“I’m sorry about detention tonight but I promise I’ll take you out Saturday, alright? We can have a date at Hogsmeade and spend the night together, does that sound nice?”

The sleepy witch gave a tired mumble and nodded her head. She was cuddled under a stack of blankets, wearing Fred’s sweatshirt which made him smile. He’d usually crack a joke at this and tease her but, she was already asleep when he looked back to her. Fred couldn’t help but stare at her for a while. There was never a moment that went by where Fred didn’t think of Y/n as anything other than beautiful but in these moments, she looked ethereal.

Moonlight poured in from the open window and splashed across her s/c cheeks. Her hair was sprawled against the white pillowcase. Fred smiled at the sound of her light snores. Fred wouldn’t leave until he was sure she was deep asleep. It was their thing. She hated going to bed without him there.

“Okay, I love you, Y/n. Get some sleep, angel.” Fred whispered.

He pecked her forehead, then kissed her lips gently. Removing the covers, Fred tucked them back into Y/n so she could keep warm. He closed the open window then tip toed out of the room. Instead of rejoining his friends, Fred decided to head to his room. He felt too guilty for missing out on their plans to go have his own fun. Anyways he did have a Potions paper coming up and if he was going to spend the day with you Saturday, he surely wouldn’t be doing any homework.

So, the plan was confirmed the next morning, Friday. Y/n ran into Fred on her way to breakfast and they discussed where they’d meet and a time. They ate breakfast together, walked to class, then headed in different directions when six rolled around. Fred had a Quidditch match and she had a group project, so they didn’t cross paths for the rest of the night. Even though he refused to admit it, Fred absolutely hated when Y/n missed one of his games. His favorite thing to do was search for her in the stands during each game and it made him sad not to see her smiling face standing out in the crowd. Y/n entered the common room around midnight and went straight for her bed. Gryffindor had lost so there wasn’t a single housemate sitting in the common room. She could only imagine how upset Fred must be, she’d be hearing about it tomorrow. Y/n giggled to herself at the recollection of Fred’s angry rants about his teammates to you in private. She basically crawled to her bed, dreaming about the handsome, goofy, witty twin that had captured her heart.

Which would bring us to Saturday night. Fred and Y/n had made specific plans; they were to meet at The Three Broomsticks at seven then hangout for a while and spend the rest of their night sneaking around the castle with the help of The Marauder’s Map. Fred had practice at six so he was planning on meeting up with the girl at the pub. Y/n expected him to be running late- it wouldn’t be Fred if he didn’t show up a good twenty minutes late.

Only Fred never showed up at seven thirty, not at eight, and by the time nine neared, he was still nowhere in sight. The Three Broomsticks would stay open for a few more hours but the thought of sitting there alone for any longer, jumping at the sound of the door every time it opened, it made Y/n feel less than sane.

Throwing a handful of coins on the table, Y/n thanked her server then exited through the front doors. The walk back to the castle wasn’t long but being with Fred made it a lot more amusing. He’d pick her flowers, give her piggy back rides, play games, race, and hold her hand the whole walk back.

This time, Y/n walked alone hugging the material of her raincoat to her chest. A light drizzle had been pouring on and off for most of the day. Earlier, it was perfectly bearable- hardly noticeable. Although the weather had only worsened as the night grew darker. Hard rain drops crashed against Y/n coat, cascading down her covered arms and bouncing to the wet ground. Her black boots were soaked. She could feel the water rising to her socks, one of her biggest hatreds. Wet socks.

The hood of her jacket only helped so much before the pelting raindrops started to seep to her hair. Typically, Y/n loved the rain. If Fred was here, they’d be dancing right now. But he wasn’t, she had no clue where he was and that was exactly what Y/n was headed to find out.

By the time Y/n made it back to the castle and up to the Gryffindor common room, it was past ten.

Much as Y/n had expected, the common room was lively with energy and conversations. Katie, Alicia, and Angelina were all sitting in a circle with Fred, George, Lee Jordan, Seamus, and Dean. A dark bottle of Dragon Barrel brandy and Daisyroot Draught were being passed amongst them. Y/n watched as Fred leaned into his brother’s side, obviously tipsy and slurring his words while he practically shouted to their friends who were only sitting feet away.

His frame twitched with every small hiccup he let out. The whole group was smiling, they were happy. Y/n wondered to herself if Fred even noticed that she wasn’t there. She wondered if he liked it more when she wasn’t there, they were having fun and although the group was also her friends, no one was interested enough to invite her. Biting on the tender skin of her bottom lip, Y/n bundled her fist to her sides. The anger refused to simmer, only continued to boil. Her dripping clothes weren’t helpful to her sour mood.

It wasn’t the fault of her friends, no, but they were bound to get caught in the crossfires. Fred was the one who left her waiting for hours on end. Her chest was tight- livid yet sad all at once. It was an aggravating feel, unfamiliar. Y/n hated the suffocation entering her drying throat. More than anything she longed to handle situations like these in an aloof fashion. The last thing wanted was to wear her emotions on her sleeve, but she couldn’t help it. Her head screamed ‘just go to bed, ignore him’ but her heart wanted to scream at him and let him know just how bad he had hurt her. Her breathing quickened, each inhale received a choppy exhale.

For the first time, Y/n decided not to join her friends or to even say a word to Fred about how he stood her up. She was sick of it- completely exhausted and drained from his lack of care and presences in their relationship the last few weeks. If he wanted her as bad as he claimed, he’d find a way to show it. And leaving her sitting alone in a noisy pub while he partied and drank with their friends, showed her the exact opposite of his words.

Diverting her leer from the inebriated group and studied the rest of the room, hearing voices near the sitting area. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville were all staring at Y/n in mixed judgement. Harry, Ron and Neville looked concerned by the appearance of Y/n. Hermione on the other hand, she was absolutely flabbergasted, Y/n could see the pity written on her face. You had mentioned having a date night with Fred in Hogsmeade to the four the night before. Harry had invited Y/n to hangout with them and visit Hagrid, but she politely declined and informed them about the special night Fred had planned for them.

Harry and Hermione stood up at the same time ready to comfort the teary-eyed girl. They motioned her over but just as she started towards them, Angelina Johnson noticed her friend who had been absent for most of the night. Setting the bottle of brandy down, Angelina wobbled up to her feet and smiled giddily,

“Y/n! Come- come drink with us! I was wondering where you- why… why’re you all wet?”

As the words fell from her mouth, a crowd of eyes planted on Y/n. Her fists clenched, bone white knuckles visible, at her sides. Angelina scurried over to her friend and wrapped her in a tender hug. If the scenario had been different, she’d gladly join in the fun but there wasn’t an ounce in her body that desired a drink.

Y/n’s eyes found their way to the boy she had been longing for all night. Her lips quivered, the anger and sadness reaching it’s overpour. He looked so handsome, so happy, but it meant nothing to her.

Pulling back, Angelina squinted in confusion at Y/n. The lack of embrace given back had thrown her off. The group had been awaiting her arrival, no one was quite sure where she’d gone off to. Angelina scanned Y/n’s reddening face, noticing the emotions bubbling under the surface.

Moving away, the dark-skinned girl turned to her friends. No one else seemed to notice the offset of Y/n’s attitude.

“Angel, where have you been? I missed you!” Fred’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. Quickly standing up, he held his hand out to his girlfriend. Y/n shot a dangerous look to his outreach, then up to his face. Usually she’d find his toothy grin and childlike state loveable but for obvious reasons, it made her irate.

Stepping back, Y/n sternly scowled at Fred,

“Missed me? You’re the one who left me waiting all goddamn night, Fred Weasley.”

A part of Y/n felt guilty for forcing her friends to witness their unpleasant exchange. George was now to his feet standing behind Fred, just as lost as the group he had been sitting with. Despite the alcohol running in his veins, George could sense an argument budding by the second.

“Not like any of you really seemed to care where I was.” Y/n kicked herself for this cold statement.

Her friends weren’t at fault- not in the slightest. But everyone was at risk of becoming a victim to her fiery wrath. In actuality, it did hurt her a little that no one had gone searching for her. It had been hours! Tears welled in her eyes as she took in the reactions of the group. George took his arm off Alicia and nudged his twin.

“What- I don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout, love. I think you should have a drink and loosen up-“

Y/n couldn’t take it. She just couldn’t take it anymore. Scrunching her face, she used every bit of strength to force her salty tears to hide at bay. Although her emotions screamed to be heard and saw right through her façade. Sweeping her hand across her cheek, Y/n caught the stray tears that rolled down her rosy cheeks. Huffing all her emotions out at once, Y/n shook Fred away from her and hurried towards her room.

Fred stood appearing dumbfounded. He could only gawk in perplexity. Blame it on the alcohol, but Fred’s mind was drawing a blank when surveying her words. For most of the night, he was the one thinking she was leaving him waiting. No one else had a clue as to where she’d gone off to, so he assumed she was in the library or wanted some space.

“You’re an idiot, Fred.” Hermione’s sharp voice cut through the thick air. The happiness and drunken laughter was extinct. The girl’s shared an exchange, all confused as to what just happened. The glass bottles didn’t help clear their judgement. Dean and Seamus took small sips from the Daisyroot Draught. The tension was unbearable, it felt wrong for their friends to be a part of it.

George set a hand on Fred’s shoulder, pulling him back slightly. Leaning forward, George whispered to his twin,

“I reckon it’s best if we turn it in for the night.” Fred gave a tug of protest. His intoxicated fought against him though he knew he did something wrong and needed to find Y/n. In spite of his desire to chase after the girl, George couldn’t let him do that. It was obvious Fred had forgotten something and Y/n was more than upset. Sending his brother up to drunkenly apologize to his hurting girlfriend for a reason he can’t even recall, that was a recipe for disaster and would only cause a bigger mess.

“Fred, you’re going to bed. You’re too drunk to talk to Y/n right now, okay? We’re going up the boy’s stairs, not the girls, okay? You two can talk in the morning, maybe you’ll remember where you fucked up tonight by then.”

Suddenly, Fred stop moving and let out a low groan,

“Oh shit… merlin’s sake, I fucked up, George. Oh my god- Hogsmeade… shit! I told her we’d meet at Hogsmeade and I forgot-“Fred whipped around in his discombobulated state. Everything clicked at once. Fred had been so concentrated on Quidditch that once practice had wrapped up, his exhausted body dragged him back to the common room out of muscle memory. It was his typical routine; Quidditch practice, head back to his dorm, shower, change, eat, work on some possible products with George, then hangout with his friends. How could he be so neglectful?

George sent his brother a comforting look then grabbed him by the shoulders, helping aid him up the winding staircase. It came as a shock to him that Fred had forgotten about their date. All he spoke about was Y/n, it was a rare occurrence for the couple to

“So that’s where she’s been all night?” George pushed open the door to their room, looking to his twin sternly. Fred had most of his weight piled on George, trying his hardest to remain upright. Lee had decided to stay back, allowing the brothers a chance to talk.

George helped his frantic twin in the dark room, then gave him a light push towards his bed. Fred plopped down, burying his face in the fluffy pillow. Pulling off his jumper, George threw the large maroon comforter over Fred’s tall frame while he wailed,

“I’m a terrible boyfriend. I planned the bloody date too! I left her-“

“How ‘bout you get some rest? You can find her in the morning and apologize to her and… hope for the best. It’ll give you more time to think of a way to make it up to her. You’re just a rambling mess right now.” The alcohol was not wearing George down. He had been on an adrenaline high since his second shot. This was the first moment of the night where he had stepped back. His tiresome hands rubbed against his face as he made his way to his bed and collapsed on it.

Fred was still moaning on, the sound of his drunken voice making it harder for George to fight back the urge to sleep,

“She’s gonna dump my sorry ass-“

“Go to bed, Fred. It’ll be okay.”

George let out a sigh of exhaustion. The twins had been best friends with Y/n since they were just children, new to Hogwarts and unfamiliar with the power of magic. It pained him to see his brother hurt, but it also hurt to see Y/n upset. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Turning his head, George let out a breathy chuckle at the sight of his twin passed out cold. The worry that dripped from his voice was now gone as he eased into his dreamland.

George wanted to scold him, knock him upside the head for skipping out on Y/n again. He cared a lot about her, she was basically a sister, a triplet to him. If Fred was gonna win her back, it wasn’t going to be easy, George knew this. Y/n was stubborn, and the twins had witnessed this first hand for years, it was a trait they loved, when not directed towards either of them.

As George’s head hit the pillow, all he could do was pray to Godrick that the morning would bring good news.

Sunday morning arrived much faster than Y/n had hoped. A bright, loud, light interrupted her sleep as the gears in her head started to turn. Her mind was groggy, the events of last night were foggy. Warm sunlight broke through the glass stained windows. Y/n wiped her eyes and slowly sat up. Her mouth was dry, screaming for a drink of water.

For a minute, she felt calm- happy almost. The room was half empty; Angelina’s bed was bare and Alicia laid in a star-fish position, a snore sounding from her mouth. The image made Y/n laugh.

Standing up, Y/n’s hands flew above her head as she stretched. She cracked her back, a morning ritual for the girl. Just as she reached for the knob of her dresser, a wave of recollection nearly knocked her off her feet.

Fred had stood her up, of course, how could she forget? The irritated skin under her eyes and nose suddenly made sense. Leaning against the wooden cabinet, Y/n huffed. It was times like these she wished she could crawl into bed and stay there for eternity. Nothing would get better though if she didn’t at least try to fix it.

As quick as the thought came, it had evaporated once more. Why did she have to be the one to put forth the effort to fix things? There was no use in fixing their relationship if Fred wasn’t willing to try too. More than try, Y/n thought. It took a piece of her when she came back to the castle just to see him drinking with their friends, not thinking a thought of her. She needed to see that he cared. His words held no value to her anymore, not until he could prove he meant what he said.

Y/n went through her morning routine like a snail, wanting to drag out her time. Eventually, she was fully dressed and ready for the day. She liked to take advantage of the days her school robes weren’t required. The cooling weather led her to a fuzzy black sweater, and light washed jeans. Sliding her delicate wand into her back pocket, Y/n exited the room and took the stairs down to the common room.

Approaching the bottom of the steps, Y/n could hear familiar voices exchanging hush words. She stepped into the room and was surprised to see the lack of students. The only ones present were sat one the long leather couch on the left half of the massive room. All of their gazes fell on Y/n.

Fred, George, Ron, Angelina, Harry and Hermione were all relaxing- well all of them except Fred. He on the other hand was frantic- disheveled. His knee bounced in anticipation. The clock was sneaking

“Oh, uh, hey Y/n!” Ron Weasley moved his hand side to side, waving to Y/n. The temptation to admire the handsome boy at his side leaped into her heart. Using every ounce of strength, Y/n trained her eyes on Ron, not allowing a single peek at Fred.

“Hey, Y/n/n!” The voice of Angelina brought a perk to Y/n’s head.

“Hi.” She greeted the younger Weasley and her close friend back, then headed for the portrait. Before she could make it half the distance, the tall figure of her boyfriend appeared.

“Angel, how did you sleep?” Fred was by her side in an instant. He was desperately trying to read her expression, testing the waters to see her mood. He had hardly slept, he spent most of the night thinking about this exact moment, when he’d have the chance to apologize and make it up to the girl he loved. “Can we please talk? I’m really sorry for last night, honestly, I am so so sorry, darling.”

Y/n stared at him, or rather, through him. It was like she didn’t see the tall wizard in front of her.

“I’m gonna go study, I’ll meet you with you guys later.”

“Y/n, love-“ His warm hand took hold of her of her own, an action she’d typically love. The familiar grasp sent a burst of comfort in her stomach, but she ignored it.

Wiggling out of his grip, the girl shot him a look of displeasure then rushed off. Hermione chased after her, no one else brave enough to step in. Besides, Hermione was one of her closest friends. Watching the younger girl follow after her roommate, Angelina walked after them. Fred stomped like a toddler having a tantrum as the portrait swung open then closed. He knew he had to do something- anything to get her to talk to him again, and that was his plan.

For a Sunday evening, the school library was relatively empty. A majority of the students occupying the tables were studying away for their O.W.L.S. The exams weren’t for another two months but hardly anyone dared to procrastinate until the last week before opening their books. The stress of the exams was enormous, but the students still had other classes to keep in mind.

Y/n Y/n/l and George Weasley were sitting across from on another at a study table. Three hefty textbooks were open as the two discussed their Potions paper. Y/n had been stuck on hers and George had yet to start so they decided to head to the library together and get it done.

Fred was usually right by their side, his hand wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders, but she neglected an invite for him. About an hour after their exchange in the common room, Y/n had apologized to each friend she had snapped on the night prior. They were understanding, clearly seeing where her frustrations had come for. They also felt bad as she was right, no one had even checked to see where she’d gone, and George especially felt terrible for not searching for his friend.

At least three hours had passed since the two Gryffindors started their study session. Y/n was sneaking up on her last two pages while George still had three left. They collaborated every few minutes, then returned to tranquil silence, scribbling away.

Y/n was in the middle of sharing her idea for the last section of her paper when George’s eyes brighten and he interrupted her,

“Fred, how nice of you to join us.”

Turning in her chair, Y/n found her boyfriend standing behind her with a nervous smile. She hated how perfect he looked, even in the poor lighting of the library. He still managed to make her breath hitch in the back of her throat.

“Hi, Y/n. You look beautiful as always.” Fred announced himself softly. George scoffed teasingly, muttering a ‘hello’ to himself to make up for his brother ignoring him. Freds words were genuine though didn’t make much of a difference. Y/n was still hurt and a compliment wasn’t going to mend that. She needed to feel it, to see him truly show that he cared- that she meant something to him. That she was deserving of his time. Sweet comments didn’t not add up to that feeling.

George closed his textbook, then glanced up at his twin,

“Should I leave?”

Before Fred could answer, Y/n slammed her hand on top of George’s Potions book. Wide eyed and frightened, the boy gaped in shock. Even Fred was taken aback by her unexpecting movement. Leering at her friend Y/n replied,

“No. I want you to stay, we were in the middle of a conversation.”

Fred’s heart dropped at her words. It was heartbreaking to have the girl of his dreams now shunning him- brushing him off with ease. It was driving him mad. All he wanted was for her to acknowledge him, give him a little hope that he can earn his way back in her heart. He loved her, every bit of him loved her.

All he wanted was to make it up to her for his mistakes the night before. He couldn’t stop thinking about the look on her face when she saw him sitting with their friends. She was miles exceeded hurt- more devastated at his negligence than hurt alone.

Maybe it was the fear of meeting the reality that losing Y/n was a possibility, but Fred experienced a new sort of emotion when his girlfriend asked for his brother to stay. Yes, they’re friends, all three of them are. Fred had to remind himself of this like a record on repeat. He couldn’t fight the envy off though.

It made his heart twist as she stared at George. Never did he think he’d be jealous of his own twin, but Fred was livid. The seething stream of covetousness overtook his veins. Fred wanted to be the one you ran to for comfort, not his brother. His entire life he had shared everything with George, Y/n was far too meaningful to Fred for her to be shared.

Now it does take two for a turn of events like that to happen. Fred knew, clear as day, that George had no romantic feelings for Y/n and she had none for George. This was true, but for some reason, it didn’t help tame Fred’s envy.

He knew causing a jealous scene would do no good for anyone, so Fred realigned his train of thought and asked,

“Could I steal you from that conversation, please love? I really need to apologize to you.”

Fred allowed his hands to reveal themselves from their previous position hiding behind his back. When he moved them, a full bouquet of colorful flowers and small green plants of different shapes and sizes. The flowers were a display of fuchsia, pink, orange, red, and yellow. They were beautiful, so beautiful, Y/n thought to herself. She couldn’t help the gasp that slipped past her lips.

Fred had gotten her flowers their first-year dating but since the last month or so, she hadn’t received many of his heartwarming gifts. It wasn’t the monocle value of a present but the thought and attention to care that captured Y/n’s heart. Fred had always been the best at creating meaningful gifts on a tight budget. Whether it was flowers he stole from school grounds, or necklaces he made out of stones she found around the Great Lake. He’d make her perfume- proving rather excellent in the Potions department. He also asked Molly to teach him how to knit in order to make Y/n a sweater. This of course delighted Molly over the moon.

George bit on the skin of his knuckles to keep for laughing at his brother. He recognized the flowers, as did Y/n. Fred had picked them from the garden outside the castle- something that had earned him a detention before. George decided not to comment on his observation, Fred was sure to murder him in his sleep if he put his apology in any jeopardy.

Fred extended the bouquet to his flustered girlfriend. He felt a sense of accomplishment while watching her reaction. It was small to most, but for as stubborn as she was, it was big in his eyes. The girl reached forward, accepting the gift with a tiny smile rising to her lips, one she didn’t force down.

For the first time since the night before, Y/n fully saw Fred. She peered directly at him silently. George glanced between the two, stuck between a dual. Without speaking, Fred took some steps forward and pulled the chair next to Y/n out. He slipped into the seat, the couple still staring at each other. Y/n studied his demeanor, he didn’t push her anymore, but he wouldn’t leave her side. Not that she would tell him but, she was happy he joined in. She didn’t want him to leave, she had missed being around him. Tearing herself away, Y/n focused herself back on the other twin.

“As I was saying, George…”

Fred drowned out the words but accepted the fact that Y/n didn’t reject him from sitting down. She also didn’t set the flowers down for the rest of their study session. The remained clutched in her hands, resting in her lap the whole time.

Monday night came in the blink of an eye. Classes had resumed and the castle was bustling in stress. When the end of the year neared, the time spent sitting through lectures was an eternity, while the weekends flew by. Fred had always hated summer break, actually, that’s not entirely true. His dismissive of break budded around the same time his relationship with Y/n became official.

Their first two years, she would spend the holiday back home in London with her family. She loved her family but once she experienced her first holiday at the Burrow, she never wanted to miss another. Her family was a bit distant, not the warm and welcoming pure-bloods like the Weasley’s, but not as cold as the Malfoy’s. Y/n’s family had no issues with her spending breaks at the Burrow, as long as she had Molly and Arthur Weasley’s approval. Molly insisted each time that there was no need for her to even ask to stay. They accepted her with open arms, ecstatic to see Fred had found such a lovely girl.

The end of the school term was coming up and Fred needed to fix things with Y/n before that happened. She planned to spend the break at his family’s home and he feared she’d take her agreement back if things weren’t improved between them. Spending almost two days stuck in the anger of his love was two days too many. Fred was going to fix this and he planned the best idea he could think of, good thing he had their friends happily available to help.

Unbeknownst to Y/n, while she was resting up from her illness Harry, Ron, Lee and George were helping Fred create his masterplan. Hermione helped in her own way by remaining near Y/n’s dorm, sitting in as the lookout. It gave her an excuse to get her school work done so she didn’t protest.

Alicia and Angelina stayed in the room. Once Y/n started to feel better, thanks to Madam Pomfrey, the girl’s altered Hermione who passed the news along to Harry as the chain continued until it reached Fred. At the confirmation, his plan was set into action. Ron was sent to retrieve the girl after Alicia and Angelina convinced her to get some food from the dining hall.

She walked through the common room then down the moving staircase, when her redheaded friend popped up. Ron scared the girl, making her stumble back, her hand placed over her chest.

“Y/n! I’m so glad I ran into you! No one has seen you all day- Angelina said you were feeling ill this morning.” Ron rambled at a fast pace. Y/n, still surprised by his sudden arrival, took a deep inhale, nodding to the boy,

“Yeah, I saw Madam Pomfrey this morning when classes started. I just had a stomach bug and she said I’d have to wait it out but the medicine she gave me seems to be doing the trick.” Y/n gave Ron a kind smile. Ron was two years younger than her but they had always been great friends. Y/n would travel to the Burrow as a guest of the twins during the holiday breaks, so Ron and her had spent a lot of time hanging out together. It was sweet of him to ask how she was doing, but he didn’t seem that her health was the reason for their conversation.

“That’s good to hear. You wouldn’t happen to be heading anywhere, are you?”

“Just to get some food. I’m starving-“ Ron nodded eagerly, cutting his friend off in the process.

“That’s great! I mean, not great, just… well… uh, follow me please!” Scrambling like a mess, Ron clasped his hand over Y/n’s wrist and abruptly dragged her down the stone corridor. She couldn’t find the words to question him and allowed Ron to lead the way. Her curiosity was far too big to ignore his odd request.

Ron carried on for another five minutes then took a sharp turn, heading for the courtyard. Two figures ran off around the side of the castle in the darkness. Y/n swore she recognized the pair as George and Lee. What were they up to? Snapping her head to the younger boy, Y/n waited for him to fill her in on why he had dragged her halfway across the castle to the freezing courtyard.

“Okay! We’re here- I’m just gonna… head out. See ya, Y/n!” Ron rushed his farewell then ran off towards the direction George and Lee had escaped to. What in the world is going on? Left by herself without any explanation, Y/n threw her hand up in annoyance.

“What?”

Alone in the cold, Y/n wrapped the opening of her fuzzy cardigan against her body, attempting to keep warm. Although warmth entered her vein as a pair of arms snaked around her waist, snatching her backwards into a firm surface. She gasped, thrown off by her attacker and tried to turn in retaliation, but their grasp was far too firm. The familiarity of the hold made her body ease up. As much time as the spent together, she could recognize his touch anywhere. Fred.

His touch released a swarm of butterflies through the girl. She could feel the anger washing away as she leaned her body into his chest, having pined for his arms for two too many days than she was accustomed to.

The tall Gryffindor held her tightly. Moving forward, Fred pressed his lips against the shell of Y/n’s ear. The heat of his breath causing her to shudder as he whispered,

“I’m so happy you came, darling.”

Y/n smirked, looking up at him. The concurrent willfulness of her nature could only carry on for so long until her headstrong demeanor crumbled. A pang of chagrin still grumbled in her stomach but the sight in front of her certainly was a runner in her change of heart.

Soaking in her surroundings, Y/n realized they were just a few hundred feet outside Hargid’s hut. This explained the garden full of massive orange pumpkins. In the middle of the path was a small gazebo decorated in fairy lights and sunflowers. A small table set for two was tucked inside. Small teacup white candles line the path, creating a runway of sorts. Another candle, larger and purple, sat flickering in the breeze in the center of the neat table.

Y/n stood motionless absorbing the creation her boyfriend made- all for her. Speechlessness was not common for Y/n so Fred undoubtably began to second guess if his efforts were good enough. His fears were stomped in a matter of moments when Y/n harshly yanked at the material of his collar and placed a brisk, short kiss to his lips. Fred was startled, losing the opportunity to kiss her back but Y/n didn’t want him to. It gave her a sense of control- they still had issues they needed to work out, but she loved him nonetheless. Besides, avoiding and staying mad at Fred forever? Impossible. In two days, Y/n had to stop herself a million different times from approaching Fred and sharing a laugh with him, or kissing him, or holding his hand and giving him a hug. She didn’t want to fight off the urge anymore- and Fred couldn’t handle the distance spaced between them. Thus, being the motivation for his grand, heartfelt, date.

“I’ll assume that means you like it. I won’t take all the credit- it was my idea, but our friends are the main reason I was able to pull this off. I feel really bad and… I need to do something special for you- I don’t do that enough lately. I forget sometimes to remind you how important you are in my life and how much I love you.” Fred sheepishly smiled, nervously awaiting her reaction.

The small table was set, a new bundle of crimson red roses placed on her seat. To the side of her plate was a small box with a beautifully wrapped ribbon tied to the top. Fred had a special way of showing his love and adoration for his girlfriend, but even this was new to her. Never before had he gone so over the top to prove his feelings to her.

Y/n lifted her hand and intertwined it with Fred’s, smiling up at him,

“It’s gorgeous, Freddie.” The bashful smile made Fred’s heart melt on sight. He had prepared himself for the repetitive rejection she had been sending, so when she whispered those sweet words, his chest tightened, and his pace stopped.

Fred almost fainted in shock at the sound of her voice. He squeezed her light hand and drew it back, forcing her body into his own. Y/n couldn’t help the laugh that fell from her lips. She missed his playful ways. With the foreheads pressed against each other, Fred grinned,

“I’ve missed your voice, love.”

Although his words made her heart take flight, the reality of her hurt was still roaming. Y/n detached herself from his grasp and rested her hand on the black metal table. Her fingertips fumbled with the white cloth, it served as a distraction only for a short period of time. Fred sent her a sorrowful look. Her shift in moods was confusing to him, he only wanted to make things better.

Y/n sighed and ran her hand through her h/c locks. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply then asked,

“Why don’t you have time for me anymore, Fred?” The question of the night- or rather month. His date was beautiful, absolutely stunning. As riveting as it was, it couldn’t erase the hurt she had been experiencing.

Fred shook his head frantically, dismissing the accusation. He knew why she would think that way, he understood. It wasn’t true, though. Actions speak louder than words and Fred despised the fact that recently, his feelings for Y/n weren’t lining up with his actions. His words could only do so much. But he also knew soon, things would be different. Missing the Hogsmeade date was his fault, and he paid for it. Two days might seem minute to most, but when you spend essentially everyday attached to someone’s hip, two days of them purposely ignoring you and speaking to every soul expect you, it can feel like a lifetime. He realized a few things in this time.

Fred remembered how fun it was to act as if he was still trying to win her over. Gifts, no matter their cost, always brought a gleam to her face which never failed to make Fred grin. However, it was much more entertaining when she wasn’t upset with him and would throw the flirtatious comments right back at him. He was also reminded of how lucky he was to be with Y/n. While she ignored him, Fred found himself envious of every living being Y/n spoke to, as they were not him. When he started engulfing himself in his plans for the joke shop, his effort in his relationship had decreased and this was something he vowed to never let happen again.

“I’ll always have time for you, darling. And if I don’t, I’ll make some. I truly am sorry about this weekend- you don’t deserve that.”

“It just seems like you’re distracted, like you don’t care anymore.” Y/n batted her reddening eyes, finally throwing her worries to the air.

“No, no, Y/n, not at all. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way, love. I’m a terrible excuse of a boyfriend, I never meant to create this mess. I love you so much.” Fred’s head bowed down. It tore him up to know the way his actions made her feel, the only girl he loved.

“I love you too, Freddie. I really do but I can’t feel alone in this relationship. I let our date Friday slide, even though I was annoyed, but Saturday night? I feel like it broke me. Just knowing you forgot about me-“ Y/n fought back the burning sensation in her eyes as the tears began to brim.

The anxiety blooming inside her was clear to Fred. Suppose that was the downside to dating your best friend, they can always tell when somethings wrong. Before a tear could hit the floor, he whisked her to the iron garden chair, then kneels before her, his hands holding her face as if it was a priceless, dainty piece of china.

“I didn’t forget about you, darling, that’s impossible to do. I’ve been… well I’ve been working on something with George for when we leave school next year. It’s real important to me and I wanted to share it with you but I was scared that it might not happen but… if I have your support and you with us, I know it’ll happen.”

“What’re you rambling on about, Fred?”

“Remember how I told you that George and I wanted to open a joke shop? Well, it’s happening… I think. We’re really close, we just gotta make it through next year then we’re free! We’ll have our own joke shop and get to sell our own products and start our future.”

A silence overtook the atmosphere. Y/n’s lips were stuck open in a small ‘o’ shape, eyes glued to the floor. Was he really going to leave her all alone next year? Would they have to break up? Surely, he wouldn’t want to be in a long-distance relationship.

She was snapped from her own mind when her skin registered the touch of Fred’s lips as they traced her knuckles, kissing each finger as he did. His eyes then peered up to meet her own. She could tell he was serious by the feeling of his stare. Then he continued, making Y/n perk up,

“But none of that can happen without you… Y/n I want you to come with me. Move in with George and I, start a future with me. We want you to be a part of the shop. I want you there. You’re the only girl I want, for the rest of my life.”

Her once open mouth clamped shut in a swift motion. Ever since she met the twins, Y/n wanted a future with Fred. Everyone saw it as a childhood crush, but she always knew it was more. She never stopped loving him- never could. Even when his pranks took a step too far over the line. They always found their way back to each other and would work through it. Fights such as the most recent were rare- but Fred’s admission filled in a lot of empty spaces that had left Y/n sleepless for days. Finally, the crushing weight was lifted from her chest as she choked out a shaky breath.

Leaping forward from the chair, Y/n threw her body into her boyfriend’s body and clamped him in a koloa like hold. Fred chuckled in amusement, falling onto the near ground at her jump.

“Why do you have to be so lovable? I hate it. I should be angry with you, but I just love you too much. Besides, I think you did enough suffering.” She giggled as she pinched his round cheeks in her hands. Fred poked his tongue out at her and grabbed at her sides. Y/n swatted his hands away, giving him a stern glare saying, ‘don’t push it’.

Slowly, she leaned down and brushed her lips against Fred’s, smirking down at him. It was a change in roles. In their more adult situations, Fred was typically the one on top with Y/n pinned below him, but that’s a story for another time.

A small, almost whimper, sound came from Fred. He hated being teased- that was his job. Dragging out the moment, Y/n tugged on the skin of his bottom lip with her teeth, earning a groan of approval from Fred. She grazed over his mouth one last time before dipping her head down to meet his and interlocking their lips, still straddling his waist. Fred’s hips pushed towards her core out of instinct. Not ready to give in quite yet, Y/n lifted her body and shifted forward, entrapping Fred even more so in the heated kiss.

They parted for seconds to sneak a bit of air, then continued their needed make out. It had been a while since they proved their love to each other in this way. For the last month, it had been small kisses here and there when the couple had a chance to see each other. Y/n needed his touch- she needed him. Fred longed to have under him, pleasuring her. He desperately wanted to sink his head between her legs and really show her just how much he loved her.

The coldness of his fingertips hit Y/n’s skin as his fingers dug into the sides of her waist. As much as she longed to keep the exchange going, the last thing either of them needed was a detention.

Y/n plucked herself away, a small pout lining Fred’s lips. His hands remained tied up in her own, lying them on his stomach. The weight of his question seeped in like molasses. Opportunities like this presented themselves once in a lifetime, there was no way Y/n was going to let it slip by.

Rolling off his lap, Y/n plopped down on the ground to the side of Fred. Their heads turned simultaneously towards each other, Fred winking to Y/n.

This is what she wanted. To see him care for her, show his love. His attention. It was the one thing she had been striving for but now that the cat, or rather joke shop, was out of the bag, Fred didn’t feel the need to hide anything from her anymore and keep his work to himself. He was over the moon with excitement to have her join George and himself. It was everything he could hope for.

Coyly averting her peer, Y/n asked,

“Do you really mean it, Fred? You really want me to come with you and George?”

Kindly, Fred swiped his thumb under her chin and raised her head up so their eyes were level.

“I wouldn’t want you anywhere else in the world then with me.” The serenity in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. Y/n propped herself up to her elbows and brought Fred in a bone crushing hug. Heavy chuckles croaked from Fred as she smothered him lovingly. He managed to sneak in a tiny peck to her check and she hugged him. Placing her head on his shoulder, Y/n poked the side of Fred’s cheek, commenting,

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever, Fred, I love it!”

Throwing his arm around the elated girl, Fred just smirked.

“Duh, that’s kind the whole point of you moving in with me.” He replied in a matter-of-fact tone. The night was growing darker and the steady wind was escalating. In an hour, two if they were lucky, Filch would be surveying the grounds in search of students, mainly Fred and George, out past curfew. It was a sport to him, catching students breaking rules and getting to turn them in. It was part of his job, yes, but Y/n hated that he never took it easy on anything for the Gryffindors like he did the Slytherins. Fred looked at the scenery around them and remarked,

“Y’know, angel, as much as I’d love to spend the rest of the night laying with you in my arms, we can do that in my dorm room tonight… in an actual bed instead of dirt. I mean, we didn’t set up this whole thing for nothing! If I knew laying in the dirt would win you back, you should’ve told me!” His sarcastic words were received with a light slap.

“Smart ass.” Y/n rolled her eyes teasingly and started to sit up. Before she could get to her feet, a pair of hands planted themselves at her waist and lifted her. Fred had his moments, but he was always a gentleman to her. His teasing ways were comforting to Y/n, reminding her that they were good now, in comparison to the recent downfalls.

Fred helped Y/n to her seat, then jogged over to his own. He presented the girl with a cake he made for her. Hermione brought him to the kitchens and taught him how to make one. It took about three hours, he burnt the first, put too many eggs in the second, then forgot to add eggs to the third. Finally, on the fourth attempt, Fred created a passable cake. Hermione had no desire to spend any more time in the kitchen, so she quickly frosted it for him, not wanting him to ruin it this far in, then covered it and locked it in the fridge. Much to Y/n’s surprise, it was one of the best homemade cakes she’d ever had. Her teeth were practically chattering from the intense amount of sugar, but she had to keep in mind it was Fred who baked it.

After eating, Fred and Y/n took their sweet time strolling around the castle. Fred swung his hand back and forth, causing the same effect to Y/n’s. They laughed feverishly as Fred chased Y/n up the moving stairs as they raced to the common room. When they entered the room, they sprinted straight for Fred’s, still in a chase. Hermione, Ron, Harry, George, Angelina, and Lee all watched in amusement as the couple seemed to be reunited.

“Wonder if they’re back together. You guys think the date worked?”

Everyone shared glances at the obliviousness of Ron. There were times when social cues and context clues just didn’t exist to Ron. George scoffed at his little brother and shook his head. The rest of the group roared with laughter as Ron’s face scrunched in irritation.

“Not sure, Ron. Why don’t you go out to our room and ask them?” George smirked mischievously causing Ron to turn white as a ghost in realization. A faint ‘oh’, tumbled out of his lips and his eyes went wide.

Despite their assumption, up in the top room in the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory, Fred Weasley laid snoring in his large mattress, still in his school robes. Squished against his chest by his arms, Y/n was sound asleep, similarly dressed. The two didn’t care what they looked like or who came in, as long as they were together, that’s all that mattered.

[gojoho]

PATIENCE

• pairing; au!ryomen sukuna x reader

• premise; you were different than the rest, and with a simple touch the devil makes peace with his boredom for the taste of your skin.

• words; 2,798

• note & warning; every time i proofread what my demon chose to write at three in the morning i cry. why am i like this? honestly, i had so much trouble with sukuna it's amazing that i found a ground to make this on. anyway...unprotected sex ( wrap it up or pack it up ), dirty language, ownership, creampie-breeding kink? i never know which one it is, these mfs just never pullout. enjoy i suppose?

Sukuna was accustomed to the cults that proudly proclaimed him as their leader, or better yet, The Chosen. False disciples to his name, many of which tried to justify their treacherous lives in comparison to his glory. A pathetic bunch he wasted little time over, not one of them much of a rivalry towards that of a king. Though your blood was far too innocent, even for a ruthlessly being as himself, he would not take on such a burdened responsibility. Having been blamed for far less, he wouldn’t live this one down. Feasibly the only reason death escaped you.

Obsession, fascination, none of which seemed that far from one another with him, nor did it matter. At any capacity mortals were tedious, their petty materialistic need; gold this, that, and whatnot. Maybe he was just bored, but then he wouldn’t be giving you much credit, would he? He was quite patient for his tetchy personality, letting you grow accustomed to his territory, where you’d spend the rest of your days. A cub seeing the pride lands for the first time.

“Follow the rules, and you’ll do just fine little cub.” You never shied from his touch, letting him indulge your soft skin, squeezing, nipping, kissing every and anywhere he pleased. But your worth was still up for question thus far, what did you bring that the others couldn’t.

“Open.” You would sit between his legs, knees bent to his divinity abiding every command. Allowing his salty fingers against your tongue, their cleanliness unbeknownst to everyone except him, but it only made you suck on them more. “So eager for me to ruin you.”

That made two of you, but he wouldn’t, not just yet.

He kept you, his precious new pet, close. Allowing your scent to fill his bed, swarm his clothes, and plague him with a hunger driven by an appetite that was you. It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust you, he didn’t trust anyone, but he did trust your behavior. The way you managed to curl up against him at night, your soft snores fanning his back, no matter how much space there was in his bed. How you followed behind him everywhere he went, involuntarily making things less...irritating. Yet your consistency didn’t extend towards the others. Vicious and vengeful, they’d see to it that he’d fall by any means necessary. Even if it meant going through you or letting it be by your own hand.

“Cub,” he’d call you over, legs wide and waiting. You’d mount him facing forward, shamelessly letting your body unwind against his touch.

Fingers working the robes from your frame with ease, instant access to the skin beneath. All while his lips worked around your neck, touching up his handiwork of pink and purple blotches around it. The product of every session. Before he’d break you off, truly make you his, preparation was in order. It’s started with your chest, his hold over your bosom, the small mouthes in each hand working their peaks. Swirling sucking nibbling away at their tenderness until you’d grind against his bulge. Drenching him with your arousal. Clothes only got in his way, he’d have you roam around naked if he pleased but that was sight met only for his eyes, and his alone. Your robes, makeshift Sukuna hand-me-downs, was a barrier between the world and what was his.

After all, it was his touch that made you a mess. ”You're already so wet for me, little cub. Maybe I'll fuck you tonight. Maybe.”

He moved a hand to your heat, parted your folds with two slender fingers while the other hand still devoured your nipple. Sukuna was greedy, common knowledge to anyone who came across the curse, but with a hunger driven by your flesh, he was more insatiable than ever. It wouldn't be long until you were writhing in his lap, every bit of noise coming from your lips. Crying out as he worked your orgasm with his fingers plunged deep in your depths and the tongue on his palm lapping at your clit feverishly.

”Kuna,” you'd mewl, with arms stretched up to his face. The only person still alive to say it let alone give him a nickname.

The rules were simple;

Speak when spoken too

Eye contact

No kissing

A cruel rule that reminded you what the relationship was. He wasn't your lover or anything to you. You belonged to him and he'd use you however he saw fit. If that meant raw dogging you, believe he'd fuck you silly.

Simple, but still difficult nonetheless. He watched your face upturn in admiration, eyes flickering between his and his lips with each whimper. You wanted to kiss him, have his tongue so far down your throat until you choked. Sukuna knew all too well the look you gave him and smirked pressing his fingers deeper, taking your wanton ones to hold his cheek into his mouth. The closet you've gotten to a kiss, but soon your eyes would wander to mess that was your body, watching him unravel your seams, the first orgasm shuddered throughout you.

The first time he had his way, you'd barely made it past one orgasm from his fingers. Now it was six, with at most his fingers and three mouths. He wondered if you’d handle his cock if thrown into the mix. With that thought alone his mind wandered, you handled his hands well but the mystery behind your lips made him twitch just thinking about it. A pretty face with such a content expression, so grateful he granted you a full mouth. Could you handle all of him? If you could, he would've taken what was already his, turned you inside out, and left your body useless to any other being but him.

He deprived himself of a release, letting it build along his thighs and boil at the deepest parts of his body. You were going to take it all from him, feed his hunger while he quenched yours. Truly teaching you what it meant to belong to Ryomen Sukuna, The Great King of Curses.

Each session left you craving more, made your hips sink further against his moving in pure need. Sukuna let you wallow in your tension, desire unkempt and rowdy beneath his nose. You were conflicted between the logic prancing your mind and the hunger of your heat. Where the thought of him feeding you more than just a few fingers made it throb for a release, to be relieved from the fear that kept it empty and unfulfilled.

You'd missed the comfort his presence brought to the bed when pressing matters stole his attention, without it sleep was surreal. Eluding your conscience till he would come back late into the morning, exhaustion settling through the afternoon if he allowed you to. Until one afternoon where he’d prepare to set off again, another village another reign of terror, Sukuna almost missed the tiny grasp at his robes. The few steps he took towards to the exit fell short by his other end.

”Please,” you'd whisper out pleading for him to stay with a mere word.

For a minute, with his sudden stride and grip over your jaw, you think it's enough. That the way he searched your eyes with his bright red pair, you thought you’d convince him. ”If you expect me to abandon my duties for that cunt of yours, you’re going to have to try harder than that little cub.”

His lips ghosted yours, taunting that separate ache from the rest of your body. Practically testing you to see if you’d break one of his rules; screaming to go ahead, kiss him.

”Well then?” he cooed, lips nearly there but your silence only irritated him. Did he spoil you too much, indeed give you too much credit and mistaken you for something you weren't—

”Please Kuna, I need you.”

”Cute…” He smirked, thumb slipping between the two of you teasing your bottom lip. ”No.”

It was a lie if he said he wouldn't turn you around right there and give in to the temptation. Fill your womb with what felt like decades' worth of his cum. Staining his sheets and your insides. Sukuna already knew you needed him, it was because of that need, that the light in your eyes settled to a palpable glow. Later completely gone by the time of his return.

Sukuna never thought to imagine you upset, not with the way you clung to him. Never did he think it would upset him as much as it did. You slept far from his end of the bed, shielding your body from his touch with the linen. The nerve of you, but he knew it was only a matter of time until he’d have you in his lap again.

Wrong.

Too much time had passed since he denied you of your request, too much time since he’s touched you, too much time since you’ve touched him.

“Cub” he called, but for the first time, he was met with hesitance.

You sat on his lap, back to his chest as per usual, but without your usual excitement. Nothing he couldn’t fix, and like always he started with your chest, getting you to flood over his crotch. By then Sukuna would’ve gotten at least a whimper but you remain uncharacteristically quiet to his touch, jabbing at his ego. Come to find out you’d bitten your lip, holding off from letting him hear just how good he was making you feel.

“Brat,” he hissed with the teeth in his hand nibbling at nothing but your clit but even then the most he got was a huff. “Fine, if that’s how you want to play this game.”

It didn’t take much to lift you up from his chair, face planting you straight into the bed. You yelp at the sudden grip over your waist as it hauls your bottom half into to air. This was far from what he planned, but he’d be a fool to let you carry on with your childish ways.

There was no protest with the way he positioned himself to his knees behind you, shedding himself of his robes, setting his cock free into the late-night air. You would never shy away from looking at him naked, curious of every black line, where they connected and didn’t connect. Still, only catching brief glimpses of him, but now that it was there before you—just one taste, that was enough right? It would make any man happy to hide his cock in a pretty mouth like yours, burying it far beneath your throat, hell it made Sukuna weigh his options but he was beyond horny and irritated.  

He gifts himself a few strokes, over your cunt, introducing it to its owner. Coating himself in the mix of his salvia and your arousal before pushing the tip past the slick gates of his personal Eden. He sunk into your bowels just past the tip before meeting the resistance of your walls. There was no distinction as to whether you’d been too tight or that he was too big, just that it made him want more. A snug fit, one in which he yearned to destroy, leaving you walls irreversibly stretched.

Your arms flailed around, desperate to find anything to grip onto but Sukuna didn’t give you much of a chance before introducing the rest of his inches to your heat.

“Fuck,” you whined. A squeak of unbearable amazement that all of him was inside you. “Wait.”

He was going to bury himself down to the hilt, each time, fuck you till you were a simpleton. It was always his intention to do so, but your impatience got the best of him.

”Quiet, ” he growled spreading your ass to see himself encased by your insides. Surprisingly you swallowed him whole, but he was sure if you kept squirming away it’d be even more painful. ”This is what you wanted, wasn't it? My cock in this slutty hole of yours.”

”Kuna please.”

”Please Kuna, I need you—is that not what you said?”

”Yes…but fuck—”

”Well now you got me, so keep fucking still and take it.” He shooed your pleading palm from his view and adjusted himself. The movement drove him deeper and you mewled beneath him like a feral feline.

A draft followed behind his pelvis as he pulled out only about halfway, your pussy gripping him as he did. He didn’t trust you wouldn’t squirm again and anchored your hips to his grip. Snapping into you once more, stretching more than his previous thrust.

Sukuna took pride in the size of his cock, in the way it left room for only one, only him. You were going to split in two, or at least it felt like it; he was so big, out of place, but just big. Though that was merely the calm before the storm, with no confirmation let alone sign to warn you, he moved again. Starting off with a strong rhythm that rocked the entire bed. He didn’t do slow, his adjective was to punish, ruin, destroy exactly why you were to be prepared.

With a guttural groan, you felt his cock work, biting against the linens as it drilled in and out of your slickness, squelching all around it.

“Listen to that,” he cooed. “Telling me to wait when your pussy sounds like this. I’m going to fill you up so well. Is that what you want kitten?”

Kitten…

An upgrade from little cub you suppose. The harder he goes, the louder both ends of your body get. Wanted was putting it loosely, it was something, if not the only thing, you needed. Yet it’s still not enough, and so Sukuna stops, leaving you lost to the pleasure he provided. Still full with his cock you moan, pleading for him to continue, eyes barely open and lips pierced by your top teeth. “You know the rules. Speak.”

Bucking against him, desperate for any friction, you whined. “Kuna.”

“Whining gets you nowhere,” He said teasing you with slow strokes in time with your desperate hips. “Answer. The. Question.”

“Yes, ” You were begging for it, the high fading from the mind a little too quickly. ”I need it, all of it.”

Now that you stroked his pride, it was only fair he’d returned the favor. Fleeing from their post against your chest, Sukuna’s hands reach up to your throat. Pulling you up to your own knees, squeeze gently. Pumping into your dripping cunt faster, harder, deeper. Strumming at the chords of your orgasm with each lewd noise he pulled with his cock. Saliva dribbling from your chin.

“Look at you,” he grunted, his own pleasure catching up to him. “Drooling from both ends.”

“Sukuna.”

He leaned into your hands, giving permission for them to tug at his roots, while he nuzzled his nose over your cheek, taking in every crude scent. “Hmm, fucking perfect.”

A compliment if he’d ever given you one, his irritation fleeing from his body and the only thing he can think about is just how good it felt to finally be inside you. The ache of his cock finally being milked.  His hand traveled down your body, caressed every curve, every nipple until they settled on your hips.

”Get down, and open up for me.” he ordered quietly, letting his pace falter before getting an obedient ’hmm’

Anything for Sukuna, anything that brought on your orgasm. You arched forward and parted your knees wider, sighing from his hand over your ass again. Kneading and pulling each cheek apart. Picking up the pace again, he wanted to see his cock twitch inside you. See how your body would react. Sukuna wanted to see the mess he made of your hole.

You let a series of colorful curses fly, it was hard to say anything with the explosion inside you, the heat itching just beneath your skin as the adrenaline spiked and rocked you into oblivion.

“Sukuna,” you managed to say but he already knew, feeling the coiling contraction refusing to let him go. A deadly grip that sucked his orgasm through.

The visible veins around his cock, throbbing beneath the thin layer of skin. Slightly moving as the rest of his length spasmed violently against the confines of your flutters. ”Fuck, look at you go, milking me dry.”

His cum wasn't as fluid as it was thick, weeks of pent up lust oozing from your folds. But it meant nothing more but for Sukuna to click his tongue and thrust forward gently a few more times. Fucking it all back into you. Your body twitched ”Oi, shape up, I've only just begun. Besides, I want to try that pretty little mouth of yours.”

You were going to ruin him, as he was you.

[charlie-rulerofhell]

For they know exactly what they do

Today there was a pretty long article published in the German newspaper FAZ, written by Julia Schaaf. Since there were quite a few interesting topics raised in it and Måneskin talked about some new aspects (or in more detail), I translated the whole thing (it might also have helped me to procrastinate).

Full interview in English under the cut.

For they know exactly what they do

June 22, 2021

Four young rock musicians from Rome are today's hottest band. Måneskin are enchanting Europe. Why? We met them for an interview.

Every romance needs its founding myth, an anecdote from the beginning, something you can tell later in more difficult times for self-assurance.

In the case of the band Måneskin, who first had Italy and now half of Europe wrapped around their fingers, and who are now trying to conquer the rest of the world with their rock music, there is the story of the shoe box. Rome, around five years ago: Four teenagers who are meeting every day after school in their rehearsal room to make music together, and sometimes they play their songs on the Via del Corso in the city centre in front of a changing audience. One day they want to record their own stuff. They find a studio that they can actually afford and as they go there they bring a shoe box, with the name of the band written on it, 'moonshine' in Danish, the bassist's mother is Danish. In the box: around seven kilogram of coins. The things you get from playing music on the streets. Everyone searching through Instagram for photos from that time can find four hippies with children's faces, three boys in batik, the girl is wearing a straw hat.

As they have to pay [for the recording], frontman Damiano David, 22, says that there was this guy, Angelo, and his bandmate Victoria De Angelis, 21, is interrupting: “No, Andrea, not Angelo”, and all of them have to laugh because a rigid studio manager with the Italian name 'angel' would be even funnier for a founding myth. David continues his story: “The guy was completely dumbfounded. 'We can't do that.' We went: 'Sure we can, that's worth the same even if it's just 20 cent coins, it's still 300 euros.” Thomas Raggi, 20, the guitarist of the band, is gasping for air as he laughs, while drummer Ethan Torchio, 20, is smiling dreamily. David finishes: “And then we snuck off before he was able to count it.” [the German text says 'verdrücken' here which is just a colloquial way of saying 'we left', but it entails some sort of a dramatic exit, so yeah, let your thoughts get creative how they left exactly :D].

Four young musicians on the verge of global fame are sitting on a white interview sofa in Berlin, completely styled, babbling across each other like overeager teenagers.

Ever since the Roman band first won the music festival Sanremo and then also the Eurovision Song Contest, carried by the enthusiasm of European viewers, you could say Måneskin has become a phenomenon. “Rock 'n' Roll never dies!”, Damiano David yelled fueled by the adrenaline of winning, and the insinuation that circulated on social media of the singer snorting during the counting of votes in front of a live camera – including their strict denial followed by a negative drug test result – might have given an additional boost to their public interest, their exploding album, ticket and merch sales, and their outstanding success on Spotify.

“We think it's a shit prejudice against rock music that there always have to be drugs involved. We fully threw ourselves into our participation with the utmost professionalism. We give everything for the music. So of course we don't want people to think that we can only do that because we take drugs.” – Victoria De Angelis

Prior to Eurovision, Måneskin was more of an insider's tip outside of Italy. Handmade rock music, not creating something entirely new but paying homage to the good old times with classic guitar riffs and cracking drum beats, being a lot of fun but also quite fragile and vulnerable at times and, first and foremost, conveying a captivating energy. Finally, on the stage of Rotterdam, live after so many months of isolation and renunciation, this wave of energy spilled straight over into European living rooms. It seemed easy to (mistakenly) interpret the winning song “Zitti e buoni” (Shut up and behave) as a declaration of frustration of our youth in times of a pandemic. In fact, singer Damiano David is singing about the favourite topic of the band: the unrelenting need to, against all odds, be yourself, despite or perhaps because you are different. The message fits their provocative sex appeal, which the band uses to demonstrate their independence of gender norms at any given time. But the core essence of rock music has always been the promise of unlimited freedom.

Thus at the first moment, the meeting with Måneskin is kind of startling. It's Wednesday, we are in the top floor of the new Sony head quarters in Berlin. The four Italians have just started their two-week long promotion tour through Europe. In the afternoon there will be a live concert in a queer club [the SchwuZ, but that's not mentioned here] in Neukölln, which will be streamed via TikTok. Around one million viewers will watch the show, some of them even from Brazil, so people at Sony are pretty excited [for Måneskin to come here]. But at first, these stunningly gorgeous creatures [yes, that's the exact wording :D] are standing surrounded by an entourage of people – their management, PR team, a stylist, a photographer, people who can hold a smartphone or a cigarette if needed [this paragraph is worded a little weirdly, especially taking into account that basically their whole team / 'entourage' is just friends of them, but it seems like the journalist didn't know that or maybe they just wanted to describe their first impression]. They seem like fictional / artificial characters out of a Hollywood movie. Transparent frill blouses with blazers and flared leather trousers, even the platform boots, everything brand-new, the makeup makes their faces look like a glossy magazine cover even in person. The smokey eyes of De Angelis and Raggi make them look smug and bored. Later, on the pictures it will probably look cool.

So of course your first impression might be: This band is under contract to industry giant Sony ever since their success on an Italian casting show [X Factor] in Winter 2017. The music industry must have its hand in the game when a band is photographed half-naked by Oliviero Toscani and styled by Etro. Also, one does not simply rent a villa with a pool in Rome to produce new music there, isolated from the rest of the world. And who else went to London for two whole months, shortly before the winter lockdown, just for inspiration? After the TikTok concert in Berlin – De Angelis and David are now wearing fishnet shirts that sparkle with every move, their bare nipples covered with an X of black tape – the band is posing with a few influencers. In the world of social media you would call that 'producing content'. But what does that mean for a band who are preaching their hosanna of authenticity? How authentic is Måneskin? And is their pointedly casual approach to sexuality and gender cliches in today's pop-cultural spirit more than a marketing strategy?

We're in the interview, the recording device is running for not even five minutes, when Victoria De Angelis says: “Actually, we just try to be ourselves and do what we really want to do.” And really: The more you listen to those four how they speak about the early days of the band in their slurred Roman dialect, about the shoe box and their own experiences with being different, but most importantly about their shared obsession [with music], the more you realise that [De Angelis] is  very serious. Ethan Torchio, who got his first drum kit at the age of six or seven from his father because he was beating everything he could reach, says: “For me, music is like food. I cannot live without it.” The bassist next to him laughs at his pathos. Singer Damiano David applauds the otherwise more reserved friend for his truthfulness [it says 'klarer Punkt', meaning 'for the point he makes', but it makes it seem like Damiano is agreeing with Ethan here, although it doesn't indicate whether he agrees that yes, music is everything for Ethan or that he understands and feels the same].

De Angelis and guitarist Raggi already knew each other from middle school and they were the ones who tried to form a band at the age of only 13, a band that actually took music seriously.

De Angelis: “It's just difficult at that age to find other people who really put everything into music and who truly commit themselves and are willing to invest a lot of their time.”

Raggi: “We set strict rules and scheduled fixed times for the rehearsals, for every day.”

David: “Fever, stomach ache, there was no excuse. Even if you were feeling sick in the rehearsal room. At least you were in the rehearsal room.”

The way the four of them talk across each other, completing each other's sentences, taking turns in talking and sometimes joking about each other, seems intimate and playful. Singer David remembers how at first bassist [De Angelis] was merciless towards him when it came to her first metal band project, as she told him that he wasn't committed enough [to the music]: “Back then I was still playing Basketball. I was one of the people that Vic absolutely didn't want [in her band].” Drummer Torchio was later discovered through Facebook, even though there had already been a drummer, a close friend, but he was not good enough. It seems as if even back then music was everything for them. Even if it meant that only Raggi managed to graduate.

And why rock, why rock music of all things? Because it's great, the four of them say in unison. David adds: “Actually, it's a genre that allows you to do everything you want to do.”

When they played on the street, they were laughed at by their classmates. But not only there. De Angelis explains that she never wanted to be a typical girl: “I was always deterred by those stupid boxes that people put you in, and that are just restricting and constraining you, because something is only regarded as male or female. I always rejected that. Instead, I just wanted to do the things I enjoyed doing, I went skating and played football.” Torchio says: “Friends who are not friends anymore were already telling me at the age of ten that those“ – he grabs his long, silky black hair – “were wrong. Because I'm a boy and boys are meant to have short hair, long hair is only for girls. I was bullied a lot for that.”

“Compared to the past, people in our age became much more open-minded. It gets better.” – Thomas Raggi

Frontman David on the other hand, for whom eye shadow, jingling earrings and nail polish as well as his bare torso with the tattoos have become trademarks by now, says: “I was actually more of the average boy.” De Angelis convinced him to try out some eyeliner, which he describes as a spiritual awakening: “I liked myself much more [with makeup]. I saw myself more as myself. As if it had been a suppressed desire of mine.” On a trip to Copenhagen with the others, when he realised that it really didn't matter what people were thinking about him, he got his first fake fur [coat? the article doesn't specify that] in a second-hand shop and let his clothing style be guided by his own love to experiment: “I realised that my whole life I was just going at half speed.” When it comes to diversity all four of them are becoming almost missionary.

At the same time, their success is not only opening doors for them. Back home in Rome they are barely able to go out on the street due to all the paparazzi. “[You need a] hoodie and huge sunglasses”, David says, “the mask is quite helpful, too.” And still, none of them is complaining, and Torchio explains why: “Even if those experiences right now may have sides that are not so pleasant, we still know that for us a dream is coming true. We experience something that we always had in our minds, so we are willing to face every consequence that this entails.”

So is the band facing difficult times, is Måneskin going to change with all the success? Again, all of them answer at the same time.

David: “I'm not worried about that.”

Raggi: “No way!”

De Angelis: “On the contrary. Everything that happened to us happened because we are who we are, so we want to continue the exact same way and stay ourselves.”

Just a few hours later, they are at the stage in Neukölln, bouncing around like pinballs, hammering at their instruments, flirting with each other. “We are out of our minds, but different from the others”, David sings their winning hymn against conformism, and: “The people talk, unfortunately they talk.” Here on stage, the four paradise birds [a German word describing someone with a flamboyant personality] with their half-nude-glittering outfits are radiating an incredible energy with the utmost sincerity, and you begin to wish there was a live audience instead of the TikTok cameras, absorbing and spreading this energy. Måneskin. A cry for a life after the pandemic, a cry for freedom and a better world.

“We do what we wished for all our lives.” – Ethan Torchio

[watchmegetobsessed]

Locked up Christmas - Harry Styles

❄️ FANFICmas 2020 ❄️

Read more about FANFICmas here!

happy holidays everyone!! this is the first one of my two christmas fics, the second one coming tomorrow, giving you well enough content to keep you busy when you’re not stuffing your belly or enjoying your time with the fam haha. let me know what you think!

word count: 5k

masterlist

Fishing your keys out of your purse you curse a little as your eyes fall on the big double doors. This is not how you planned to spend your Christmas evening, but you are desperate to earn that promotion in January so now you have to make sacrifices, such as leaving your family home, come into the office and smooth out some things your boss emailed you about a few hours prior.

“Who the fuck is working on Christmas?” you mumble to yourself as you try to find the right keys on the chain. The woman is completely nuts, you’re not even sure how she was able to score a husband because the woman lives in the office.

“Think about the money, Y/N,” you tell yourself. It just gonna be a solid two hours in here, you’ll be out of the building by nine and make it back home to watch Home Alone with your nieces. They begged you to stay and your heart was breaking when you had to leave instead of playing board games with them, so now you are desperate to get it done as fast as possible.

Unlocking the double doors you walk through every damn morning, you walk inside and lock them back up behind you, not wanting any creeps to scare the shit out of you, entering the building while you are in here.

You are so busy cursing your boss out that you almost don’t even notice the lights on upstairs in one of the offices, but when you do, you stop in your track, knowing well whose office it is. Taking a few steps closer you see the tall guy walking around, searching through his shelves with his hands on his hips.

Harry Styles has been working two offices down from yours this past year and you’ve had the fattest crush on the dude ever since he smiled at you on his first day, introducing himself. From his magical green eyes, through his several tattoos he tries to hide under his shirts, to his luscious curls, the guy is a walking, talking perfectness, making you turn into a stuttering teenage girl every time he even looks in your way, let alone when he comes up to you to talk about anything.

Standing in the open area of the cubbies, you debate whether you should say hi or go straight to your office, and though your nerves would appreciate the second option, you know it would be rude to just ignore his presence when it is literally just the two of you. So shoving your keys into your bag you head towards his open door, hoping you won’t make a fool out of yourself.

Just as you are approaching the entrance of his office, his eyes fall on you and you can’t just not notice how adorable he looks as he raises his eyebrows at your arrival.

“Y/N? What are you doing here on Christmas?” he questions, a stack of paper in his hands as he stares at you, a slight smile playing on his pink lips you’ve daydreamed about way too many times at work. You notice how he is wearing a simple white t-shirt, a brown, knitted cardigan and jeans, something you have never seen him in, he is always wearing stylish suits and crispy looking shirts, making sure his appearance is spotless. But you kind of digging this loose, casual version of him.

“I could ask you the same,” you chuckle tilting your head to the side. “I uhh—Samantha emailed me about one of my cases, so I have a few things to go over.”

“But couldn’t it wait?”

“I’m really hoping to get the promotion in January, so it couldn’t.” Harry nods in understanding as he glances down at the papers in his hands. “What about you?”

“Oh, I came in this afternoon, but I kind of got stuck, so now I think I’ll just finish it anyway.”

“You’ve been here all afternoon? Didn’t you want to spend the day with your family?”

“Well, my family lives in the UK. My mum got a cruise from her boyfriend so she is on the Caribbean sea right now and my sister is working through the holidays as well, so we agreed to have Christmas a little later this year.”

“Oh, I see,” you softly say, feeling a little bad for the guy to be stuck here at Christmas even though you know he is gonna see his family, just a little later. “Alright. I’ll just—I’ll be in my office then,” you mumble motioning down the hallway and he nods with a soft smile.

“Sure, sure!”

You jump right into work, eager to finish as soon as possible, and for your biggest surprise, you find yourself breezing through the case faster than you expected. Maybe it’s the emptiness of the whole building, the complete silence or just the will to leave finally, but you manage to finish everything before half past eight, putting you half an hour earlier than you expected to be done. You quickly pack everything up and shut your computer down before grabbing your coat and bag to head out. Just as you step out of your office, Harry emerges from his, wearing his black coat and a backpack hanging from his shoulder. Your eyes meet and he chuckles softly, waiting for you to catch up with him so you can head down together.

“Finished everything?” he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, it wasn’t as bad as I thought. How about you?”

“I think I’m like two weeks ahead now, but at least I’ll have a breather after the holidays.” He politely lets you ahead as you step out of the office area, into the stairwell, the two of you walking down the stairs shoulder by shoulder. “Heading back to the family?”

“Yeah, promised my nieces to watch Home Alone with them.”

“Classic.”

“Uhuh, very fascinated when you’ve seen it a thousand times, but it’s their first time,” you chuckle shaking your head.

“I feel like everyone is complaining about seeing it so many times, but deep down, we all know we’ll keep watching it till the end of times,” Harry smirks and you nod in agreement.

You step to the exit and push your keys into the lock, trying to turn it, but it doesn’t want to move, just stays stuck in it. Wiggling it a little you start to feel nervous, thinking how Harry will see you as a complete idiot who can’t even open a damn door, but no matter what you try, the key stays stuck.

“I uhh—It’s not opening?” you anxiously say, glancing over at Harry. Furrowing his eyebrows he asks if he could try, so you step aside and let him make an attempt to unlock the door.

However, the key stubbornly stays the same, as if it was cemented into the lock. His grip tightens around the metal, his other hand holding onto the handle of the door, shaking it in hopes it’ll magically open up, but that’s not the case at all.

And then you hear the snap. Your eyes widen when you see that the top part of the key stays on the chain and Harry holds it up just as shocked as you are, the other part still in the lock, broken and totally ruined.

“Please say we didn’t just lock ourselves in and broke the key into the lock on Christmas,” you mumble, shutting your eyes, hoping that when you open them it’ll all just go away and Harry will be holding the door open for you. But then your eyelids flutter open and your gaze is met with Harry’s anxious eyes.

“I uhh—I wish I could say that we didn’t, but we did.”

Letting your head fall back for a moment you take a deep breath, contemplating what you did that made the universe turn against you, but you don’t remember killing babies to earn this, so you are left with your boiling rage.

After a moment of mess you realize it’s time to pull your shit together and figure out the fastest possible to get out of this building as fast as possible.

“Alright, we-we need to call someone,” you breathe out, pulling your phone out of your pocket, trying to figure out who you should be calling in this very specific situation.

“Should we call Samantha?” Harry asks, still holding your keys in his hands.

“It’s not that we need another key, she wouldn’t be able to get us out. We need a professional, right?”

“Yeah, good idea.” Harry is quick to pull his phone out as well, opening up Google to find a locksmith that could free the two of you.

A few minutes later the both of you are frantically calling numbers of businesses you found online, but most doesn’t even answer and though you know it’s reasonable, since it’s Christmas, but you’re mad that with each passing moment the feeling that you’ll be stuck in here all night grows. The two of you are pacing around in the hall as all calls go to voicemail or just simply stay ignored, making you desperate.

When you are about to give up to find just one locksmith in the area who could help you out, the ringing finally stops and a voice answers your call. The old man doesn’t seem delighted to be disturbed at such time, but as you describe the situation on your hand, he quickly realizes his help is much needed.

“Now, Miss, I have some bad news,” he tells you and you feel your stomach drop to the floor.

“And what would that be?”

“The soonest I can get there is around midnight. I’m out of town, but I could leave right now.”

Closing your eyes you inhale sharply. It’s not that bad, you tell yourself. At least he can come, that’s all that matters.

“Alright. It’s fine, we really need you, Sir. And again, I’m really sorry to bother you on Christmas.”

“I’ll pack up and leave now. Will contact you when I’m there,” the man tells you before you hang up and meet Harry’s anticipating eyes.

“He is coming, but he’ll get here around midnight,” you tell him and he immediately checks the time on his phone.

“So… we are stuck here for three more hours?” You nod, pressing your lips together. “Alright,” he sighs, hands on his hips. “Could be worse, right?”

“Yeah, definitely,” you nod, trying your best to see the best side of the situation. You might be missing Christmas with your family, but you are stuck with your work crush for three entire hours, so yes, it definitely could be worse.

Harry runs a hand through his hair, nodding to himself as if he is acknowledging the situation, and the turning to you, he smiles softly.

“There are some leftovers from the Christmas party on Wednesday. You hungry?”

Soon enough the two of you are seated in the kitchen, roaming through everything Harry found in the fridges, from saggy fries to fried chickens and veggies, you are sure you won’t starve to death until the locksmith arrives to rescue you.

At first, you both are just eating in silence, kind of still processing that this is how you have to spend the evening. Harry reaches over to get some more peas onto his plate and his cardigan rides up on his arm, your eyes falling to the several tattoos and before you could stop yourself, you speak up.

“How many tattoos do you have?”

His eyes flicker to you, then follow your gaze on his arm and he smiles softly. You can feel the heat crawling up your neck for a moment, his smile is so enchanting. He has to know the effect he has on females for sure.

“A lot. Don’t even remember the exact number if I’m being honest.”

“Really? Can I ask where else you have? I mean other than your arm.”

“Well, I have the most on this arm, then just one on the other. Some on my chest, my upper stomach, above my hips and a couple on my feet and leg,” he explains and your eyebrows raise at the amount. You figured he had quite a few, but it really sounds like a lot. You push down the urge to ask if you could see them, though your imagination is soaring right now, thinking about all the different inks splattered across his body.

“All planned or were some impulsive?”

“Most of them were random,” he chuckles shaking his head. “Do you have any?”

“I do,” you shyly smile, glancing down at the plate. “I have… well, I have one, but it consists of three parts.”

“Oh!” he breathes out and waits for you to elaborate.

“I have the sun, the moon and a few little stars on my back along my spine. It’s not big either, so you won in the tattoo game,” you chuckle.

“But I’m sure yours is way more sophisticated and planned out.”

“That I’m sure of,” you nod laughing and he joins you. “Would have never though you have so many under your suits,” you admit and his eyes jump up to you, a playful smirk tugging on his lips.

“Well, I didn’t think you had any under your pretty dresses, if I’m being honest.”

Now you are sure you are blushing hard, something in the way he said it making your hormones act up in a blink of an eye. Has he been thinking about what’s under your dress or did he just phrase it weirdly?

“What else is there you think is unlike me?” you find yourself asking and though Harry seems slightly surprised by the question, he leans back in his chair, looking at your intently, as if he is trying to read you like a book.

“I think that… the way you dress at work is far away from your real style,” he states, eyes glaring down at your current outfit that doesn’t give a lot away about your style. You were already in your pj’s when you decided to come into the office, so you just threw on a black t-shirt and a pair of boyfriend jeans. You can’t hide the smile that curls up your lips at his statement. “Am I right?”

“I guess you are.”

“So what are you like when you are not wearing your colorful blazers?”

You choose not to comment on how he noticed that you have a collection of blazers in basically all existing colors, so you always have something to put on with your dresses and pencil skirts at work.

“What do you think my style is like?” you challenge him tilting your head to the side. Pursing his lips he takes a few moments to think over his answer.

“I think it’s a lot of vintage jeans and shirts, oversized jumpers, tiny hoop earrings… maybe some turtlenecks, but the funky types, nothing serious. You seem like the type of person who likes to be cozy but also fashionable.”

“That was very specific,” you chuckle softly, but you are also impressed by how spot on his description was.

“Was I right?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “But add some loose maxi dresses. I love them too, especially with sneakers.”

“Fits the picture perfectly,” he smirks as you both continue your feast.

You have never been alone with Harry for this long and you feel like you cracked the code to stop feeling nervous around him. Yes, you are still quite anxious about doing or saying something stupid, but the more you talk, the easier you find it to be around him. He is great company, an amazing listener and an even better story teller. Once you start sharing tales about your childhood and teenage years, Harry opens up about what it was like growing up back in the UK and he tells you all about the little pranks he and his mates did through high school.

“You had such a baby face!” you beam when he shows you a picture of himself when he was just fifteen. He is definitely recognizable, but he was lacking that hint of manliness back then, a rounder face and smoother lines made him appear very youthful, while now he is definitely a charming, mature man.

“I know, worked hard to lose that,” he chuckles leaning onto his arms on the table. “Alright, now you have to show me one too,” he says locking his phone once you give it back to him. Chuckling you unlock your own phone, looking for a photo you could show him, though you don’t have many to choose from.

“This one was taken on my sixteenth birthday,” you comment sliding the phone over to him, a picture of you shown on the screen from your birthday where you are sitting on the couch, hugging the puppy your parents surprised you with as a gift. Back then you had longer hair and a bare face, free of any makeup since you didn’t start wearing any until you were eighteen. You had a few pimples and spots on your forehead, but overall it’s not a disastrous photo.

Harry takes his time examining the photo and you see his smile grow wider with each passing moment.

“What?” you question him.

“Nothing, it’s just that… If we knew each other back then I just know I would have crushed on you hard.”

Your lips part at his blunt answer, you were definitely not expecting him to say that and it’s making you feel some kind of way for sure.

The two of you pack up everything left from the food, cleaning up after yourselves and as Harry washes the plates you two used, you check the time, seeing that it’s only quarter to eleven, leaving plenty of time still until the locksmith arrives.

“It’s so damn quiet in here, I’m not used to hear… nothing,” you tell him as you follow him out of the kitchen. Harry turns to you with a sly smirk.

“Wanna have a private party? I know for a fact Jim has a Bluetooth speaker somewhere in his office.”

“I’m absolutely in,” you grin as the two of you head towards the corner office.

Harry was right, the Bluetooth speaker sits lonely on Jim’s desk and you don’t hesitate to borrow it for your entertainment in this absurd situation. He connects his phone and sets it down on a random desk outside where the cubbies are.

“Alright, what’s your song request?” he asks opening up Spotify.

“Guess what kind of music I listen to,” you challenge him arching an eyebrow and as his eyes meet yours, he smirks back confidently before he turns his attention back at the phone in his hand. You watch him scroll for a while before his finger stops on a song and after a moment of hesitation he taps on it at last.

“Don’t come at me if you don’t like it,” he warns as the song starts playing through the speaker and you immediately recognize it. I Feel It Coming by The Weeknd and Daft Punk flows through the empty office area and you can’t push down the smile that tugs on your lips. “Did I do good? You like it?” he asks with bright eyes.

“You did. I do like The Weeknd and it’s a fun song,” you nod and Harry throws a fist into the air in victory.

“Yes! Alright, you guess next,” he tells you handing you the phone and you need a moment to think about what he might like. A specific song pops into your mind and though you know you’re taking a risk with choosing it, but something is telling you he is the kind of guy who appreciates this kind of music. You patiently wait for your song to end before starting the one you chose for him.

You intently watch his reaction as Juice by Lizzo starts playing through the speaker and the moment you see the corners of his mouth curl up, you know you guessed right.

“It’s one of my guilty pleasures,” he admits, his head immediately bopping to the rhythm.

“No need to call it guilty pleasure. It’s a great song,” you tell him handing back his phone and with each passing moment his body gets into the rhythm more and more until he is full on dancing.

You let out a laugh, watching him sway and move around, enjoying the song and you can’t stop yourself from joining him. Jumping around, the two of you make the whole place your dance floor, moving around between the desks and cubbies, letting loose as the song fills the whole place.

“It ain’t my fault!” you hear Harry sing from across the room and you can’t hold back your laugh. Seeing how funny you find it, he makes his way towards you, swirling and moving his hops around. He is not a bad dancer, in fact, he is perfectly on beat with his movements, but he is definitely not a professional, though you find it quite adorable, while the way he doesn’t care to dance carefree is making him incredibly hot.

He dances around you, relentlessly singing the lyrics that he seems to know by heart. It’s quite the sight to see him like this, so unlike but still… very much like him. This version is even more attractive and you wish you could see him like this more often.

One song follows the other and the two of you absolutely let loose, putting on the show of your life, forgetting about everything else, it’s just the music, Harry and you. He shows you his favorite songs and you do the same, feeling a special connection through the process, because in a way, he is baring his true self to you through the music that’s closest to his heart and you are happy to be the person to see him like this.

“What’s a song that turns you into a rockstar?” Harry asks, panting a little from all the dancing you two have been doing in the past hour. You stop in motion thinking about what he just asked.

“A rockstar?”

“Yeah, you know, one that makes you sing and dance and perform like you are in the middle of your sold-out show at Wembley.”

You love his specific descriptions of feelings. Smiling to yourself you don’t have to think long about what song it is for you. After searching it you add to the queue and put the phone down to the nearest desk as you turn to Harry.

The starting beats of Plastic Hearts by Miley Cyrus start playing and you immediately feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins. You’re ready to completely change right in front of his eyes. Grabbing a chair you push him down to sit as you walk away from him, snatching an abandoned bottle of water from one of the desks, using it as your microphone before starting your performance. Hooking a finger into the elastic in your hair you pull it out and let your hair fall to your shoulders as you start singing along the song, sending him a seductive look over your shoulder.

“Hello, the sunny place for shady people, a crowded room where nobody goes…”

You know every line by heart and the fact that you’ve been listening to it on repeat the past few weeks just helps your case. You are able to put on quite the show for Harry.

Dancing around the desks, even hopping on one and lying down as you sing into your pretend microphone, you truly make yourself believe there are thousands of people watching your performance.

“I’ve been California dreaming, plastic hearts are bleeding!” you shout the chorus, completely letting loose, dancing towards Harry who is watching you in awe, lips parted, eyes bright as they follow your every move. “Keep me up all night! Keep me up all night!”

Right in front of Harry, you drop to your knees, whipping your head around, your hair flying with it before you straighten up and look straight into his eyes. Hunger fills his eyes, raw passion and you see how his knuckles are turning white as he is gripping the sides of the chair he is sitting in. You can’t push down the satisfied smirk that tugs on your lips.

He stays put as you live out your wildest rockstar dreams, turning the whole office into your stage. With a heaving chest and heavy pants, the song ends and nothing follows. Turning to face Harry you see that he turned the music off so no other song started after your performance. Now he is standing, eyes burning down on you and the tension is thicker than ever.

It’s about to happen, you feel it. He wants you just as much as you want him. Is he gonna act up about it? Will he finally break what’s been building up between the two of you?

All your questions get answered as soon as you see him leap towards you, your body starts moving at the same time and just when you are about to meet in the middle in the hottest kiss you’ve ever gotten, you jump back hearing your phone’s ringtone on a desk near you.

“Fucking—“ you hear him mumble under his breath as you rush over, seeing that the locksmith is calling.

“Hi!” you pant into the phone and immediately realize how ambiguous you must have sounded.

“Miss? I think I’m here. Can you come to the door in question?” you hear the man.

“Yeah! We’ll be down in a sec! It’s the front door.”

Ending the call you turn to see Harry standing behind you, his green eyes burning a hole into your head and you can tell he shares the same thoughts as you and though you’d love nothing more than to continue what was about to start, but you can’t make the locksmith wait.

“Come on, we are getting rescued,” you chuckle grabbing your stuff and Harry follows you downstairs.

The old man is standing with a bag of tools at the entrance, he sends you a small smile when he notices you.

“This one right here?” he asks through the glass and you nod. Harry stands beside you as the two of you watch him get down to work. Though the tension is still there, you can feel it radiating from the both of you, you still manage to hold yourself back.

It doesn’t take long for the man to get rid of the ruined lock and the door finally opens up, letting you and Harry out of your prison. He quickly fixes up a new one and gives you the keys. You already know Samantha won’t be happy about having to copy a new set of keys for everyone, but there was not much you could do.

You obviously pay a fortune for the guy for everything he did tonight, he surely was a hero. It’s way past midnight by the time you say goodbye to the man and watch him drive away, leaving you and Harry standing in the parking lot.

The sexual aspect of the tension between the two of you has definitely fallen back, but something is still there and you really don’t want to ignore what was about to happen before the locksmith called. Luckily, it seems like Harry thinks the exact same thing.

He runs two fingers over his lips, clearly trying to come up with something to say, and then he finally speaks up.

“Listen, about what happened in there—“

“Want to come over to mine?” you blurt out before you could stop yourself, clearly surprising him. Then you feel a wave of awkwardness about how blunt that was, so the urge to fix it a little takes over. “I-I mean you could come over to my place for the night if you want, and since you-you don’t have family here now, you could just come to my family tomorrow for lunch, it’s always so much fun, we play board games and stuff. B-But I get it if you don’t want to.”

Harry smiles widely at you, finding your word vomiting quite amusing and cute if he is being honest.

“You sure I wouldn’t disturb if I joined for lunch?”

“Of course not,” you smile warmly. You already know your nieces would be all over Harry if he came, wouldn’t even let him alone for a second for sure.

“Then… I would love to go. And… to your place as well,” he adds, a soft blush appearing on his cheeks.

“Okay, then follow me?” you chuckle nodding towards your and his car parking near to the other.

“Yeah,” he nods, smiling wide as you both head to your own cars. You have to bite into your bottom lip to stop the excited squeal when you unlock the doors. Right as you are about to open up the door on the driver’s side, someone grips your wrist and turns you back around. You gasp a little, but immediately melt into Harry’s arms when his lips press to yours, holding you tight in his embrace.

His lips taste like French salad dressing and mint after the feast you had earlier and the gum he chewed on afterwards. They fit so perfectly with yours, moving in sync as you let your hands wander over his upper arms and broad shoulders until they come to a halt at the base of his neck. He is such an amazing kisser and you just know that whatever happens between you and him after this, you’ll surely have a hard time looking at him at work and not think about how he tastes on your lips.

When he pulls away, he pecks your lips one more time before his arms fall from around you.

“Sorry,” he smiles nervously, even though he has no reason to be. “I just… had to do it before we leave.”

“Glad you did,” you smirk and kiss his soft lips one last time before sending him away to his own car. He shoots you one last charming smile before you both get into your cars and head straight to your place.

Thank you for reading, let me know what you thought about it! 

[the-dream-team]

What You Truly Are

I'd like to dedicate this fic to @thejilyship & my cousin, Alex <3

Years of doubt and confusion about her sexuality were thrown away the instant Lily met James Potter.

Mr. Slughorn had assigned James to partner with her in Chemistry because he was new to Hogwarts Prep and she was top of the class. He had kind, hazel eyes hidden behind wire-rimmed glasses and a curly mop of bangs that immediately grabbed her attention. He was smiley and funny and perfectly content with his own shortcomings when it came to Science, happy to let her take the lead on their lab, something most boys would never set aside their egos to do.

But James wasn’t like most boys. He complimented things like her handwriting or how kind she was to strangers instead of the clothes she wore or the color of her hair. Plus, he seemed unconcerned with appearances and popularity, instead focused almost completely on making the school’s soccer team.

He spoke about soccer constantly, and Lily loved the way he lit up when talking about the training he’d been doing for tryouts and the way he’d managed to complete a bicycle kick for the first time. She’d be lying if she had her doubts whether James would make the team, what with his slight build and short stature. The boys on Hogwarts Prep’s Varsity team were all about a head taller, sixty pounds heavier, and had actually defined muscles, which James lacked.

But that was what drew Lily to him. He was softer, blushed easily, giggled openly. There was a feminine energy to the boy that clicked all the gears into place. All this time, Lily had been straight, it just so happened that she preferred boys that were a bit more effeminate. Boys like James.

When he actually made the soccer team, she was the first person he told, wrapping her in a wonderfully intoxicating hug outside of her dorm room, his smooth, soft hands brushing her neck in a way that sparked an ember of hope that maybe he looked at her the same way she looked at him. They spent the rest of the evening celebrating in the cafeteria with slices of pizza and unlimited soft serve, discussing the team’s first match against Durmstrang High. Lily admitted that she’d always loved playing soccer as a kid and how she wished Hogwarts had a girl’s team. James looked at her with an entire forest fire behind his eyes and said with a surprising level of intensity that it was bullshit that the team wasn’t co-ed.

The next day he showed up to her room, a smile on his lips and a soccer ball under his arm. He took her to the fields and they ran drills and practiced shooting on each other until the sun began to set. She never thought she understood a ‘runner’s high’ until they raced the length of the field as blues and purples chased pinks and oranges in the sky, sprinting against each other until their lungs emptied out and their legs gave in. They tumbled onto the cool, evening grass, shoulder to shoulder, head to head, stealing glances and sharing laughter. She thought he might kiss her when they both turned their heads and parted lips, but instead, he sat up, mumbling something about it “not being fair to her.” Whatever that meant.

She tried to take a step back after that day, a silly effort to protect her heart. Maybe it just wasn’t the right time for her and James. Maybe they were better as friends. Plus, his big first game was in a matter of days and she wanted to support him in every way she could. Distracting him with her feelings wouldn’t be helpful…

And that decision seemed to be for the best when Hogwarts beat Durmstrang handily four to one, with James scoring three of their goals. The bleachers erupted into applause as the buzzer went off at the end of the game, but no one was louder than Lily as she cheered for James, who was lifted up by his teammates like a king on his throne.

Lily found herself running down to the field, searching for James in the crowds of fans, hoping to hug him the way they’d hugged before. When she finally spotted him, he’d been approached by the school’s broadcasting club and his face was blasted onto the jumbotron, his voice carrying over the speaker system.

“James Potter, you’re clearly the breakout star of the game today,” said a student reporter into a microphone. “Any thoughts you’d like to share with us today?”

Lily pushed through the swarms of fans, finally making it to the camera crew, and when James saw her smiling at him, his eyes flashed.

“Yeah, I’ve got some thoughts,” he said, his voice echoing around the field and bleachers. “I think Hogwarts should let girls onto the team because they can be just as good as the boys.” He was met by a chorus of confused chatter and a handful of boos. But Lily’s heart soared. “Sure, boo all you want, but I think you’d be surprised to know a girl was Hogwart’s highest scorer in today’s match!”

The jeering turned to a strange mix of laughter and dismissive shouts, causing James’ face to scrunch up. Lily’s heart pounded through her ears.

“It’s me!” James shouted, flustered frustration lining his (her?) face. “I’m the girl! My name isn’t James, it’s Jamie!”

Lily’s jaw hit the floor and her stomach swooped as James- no, Jamie- reached up to fiddle with her hair, grabbed a hidden bobby pin, and let a mess of wavy curls fall to her shoulders.

The crowd continued their shouting, mostly echoing a strange chant of “prove it, prove it!” until Jamie finally rolled her eyes, sent Lily a smirk and a shrug, and grabbed the hem of her jersey, pulling it up to her nose.

The crowd let out a collective gasp, and Lily quickly came to terms with her sexuality.

Once the cameras turned off, Jamie was immediately in front of her, eyes wide and waiting, lip caught between her teeth with a worry that Lily wanted to immediately wipe off.

“I’m sorry, Lily,” she started, “I didn’t mean to trick you or anything like that, but I didn’t expect to meet someone like you and-”

Lily rushed forward, feeling more secure in her thoughts and feelings than ever before, and grabbed Jamie’s face, pulling the girl down until their lips met in a collision of soft smiles, unwavering happiness, and plenty of giggling.

[kcatta-wodahs]

OM Demon Brothers react to MC in a Depressive Episode

sometimes even a human wants to sleep for 16 hours in a day no big deal

Lucifer

He can’t help but wonder what has happened. For some reason, your every smile has become fleeting. A flash of gratitude, and then your face returns to the blankness that seems to have become normal.

He saw you staring out the window at noon, and walked by again at three to see that you hadn’t moved an inch.

He notices that you look at the clock more often, and once 7 o’clock hits you immediately retreat to your bedroom. He notices that you don’t talk during breakfast or dinner anymore.

When he decides to learn what has happened, he fully expects to have to kill someone. He isn’t prepared to face off the response of “this just happens sometimes.”

He insists you explain. You’re so tired, but you do the best you can. The joy that is in every day just seems so impossible to reach now. It should get better in a week or two.

Lucifer wants to fight against this unseen enemy, but it seems that there’s nothing he can do. You promise to get your chores and homework done as usual, and he has no reasonable reason to request anything more.

So he makes sure you’re still taking care of yourself. If he catches you staring at the wall for hours on end, he gets you water. He draws a bath for you at the end of the day. He provides you with headphones and music to soothe your mind. His favorite tracks for the end of a long day.

He doesn’t pressure you to return to normal, but you can be damn sure he’s watching carefully to make sure to help pull you up when you need it.

Mammon

You spend all day in your room now. Your responses to him on your D.D.D. consist of one or two words.

Has he done something to spite you? Are you pushing him away? One day, after about five full of worrying and trying to come up with the most exciting plans possible to make you want to hang out with him, he demands answers.

He knocks on your door, puffed up with indignation, ready to let you know that you have no right to ignore your FIRST 

But all of the fight drains out of him when you open the door and he sees the exhaustion on your face. The blanket that came with you to open the door, and the puffy eyes,

“Why didn’t you just tell me you were sick, you dumbass?!” 

You didn’t want to bother him. It wasn’t that big of a deal, and he wouldn’t have any fun with you in this state anyway. And it’s not like you’re sick sick. 

He flicks your forehead with a finger and glares at you. He tells you he doesn’t care about having fun or being bothered. You’re supposed to tell him when you need something. Him before anyone else.

You tell him that you don’t know what you need. You can’t get yourself to talk to anyone.

He decides that’s fine and all, but he’s not leaving your side if you can’t respond to his texts, so you better get used to your new roommate until you get better. 

You’re worried about this arrangement, worried that he’s overextending himself or upset with you, but those worries get fainter and fainter the longer he hugs you. 

Leviathan

He’s seen you stare at the TV for an hour, the background music of the Devilbox 3 playing on a loop. He’s seen you flip between game icons for ten minutes. Then you click on one, and the second the title screen comes up you change your mind and exit the game. He’s seen you do the same for anime to watch, or even taking that long to decide which app to open on your D.D.D.

He hears the long sighs that you give. The ones you don’t even notice from being so numb.

Levi isn’t a stranger to depression. He starts to figure it out pretty quickly. 

He offers things that he wanted on his worst days. He holds you and cuddles you, and tells you that you’re perfect.

Whenever your depression convinces you to refute him, he fights it back with loving words and stubbornness. You are perfect, and your brain is just wrong.

When he gets through to you enough to admit that you just don’t have the energy to invest in any games, even the ones you love, he offers to play them for you.

You think it’s a little silly at first, but eventually find that mindlessly watching him try to navigate a new platformer is far more calming than trying to decide on something to do yourself.

You curl up against him while watching him play, and for the first time in several days, you feel a bit of contentment breathe through the numbness. 

Beelzebub

Beel gets worried when he doesn’t see you at breakfast. And then he doesn’t see you at dinner. And then breakfast the next day.

For a moment, he worries that you’re actually lost and injured somewhere, but his brothers assure him that you went to school yesterday for sure, and walked home with them too.

Still, he comes to visit you when you don’t come to lunch the next day - on a weekend. 

You force a smile for him when you open the door, and thank him for the meal he brought.

He sees that your room is littered with empty snack bags.

“Is that all you’ve been eating?” he asks, gesturing to them.

You quickly apologize and start cleaning them up, trying to sound fine.

“Why aren’t you coming to meals? Did someone curse you?” he asks, bristling protectively.

You’re just not hungry, you explain. Everything is okay.

But the state of your room, the nest of blankets on your bed, that tells a different story.

Beel doesn’t know how to explain what is so clear to him. Something is wrong, but he can’t find the words. 

“Can I stay with you, then?”

You are surprised by his words, but he comes over and hugs you before you can respond.

“I’ll bring you dinner. And breakfast. Okay?”

Your heart melts right into his embrace, along with you. You can’t explain what’s going on, but you know this helps.

Asmodeus

Baby. Oh, honey. Darling. It’ll be okay.

He showers you with love and compliments and snuggles.

He treats you to a spa day, and absolutely refuses to hear any protests about how much he’s doing for you.

He insists that it's for both of you, because he would NEVER pass up on a spa day!

Having clear skin helps have a clear mind, he says. 

And taking care of yourself is the best way to prove to the world that you are worth it.

To prove to yourself.

He wants you to know that you are worth it. Every second.

And he ensures that you treat yourself.

If you can’t bring yourself to get out of bed, he will straight up carry you into the bathtub.

The way that he cares for you is so gentle and genuine that you find yourself feeling just the slightest bit better as he massages shampoo into your hair. 

He will do anything to cheer you up.

Satan

He notices that you’re distracted. You keep looking at your book, sure, but he hasn’t seen you turn a single page.

You explain that you just can’t focus, but it’s okay. This happens sometimes, because you have depression.

He tries to correct your grammar, saying “You feel depressed. Unless you’re talking like Levi’s cheeseburger cats?”

That forces a laugh out of you, even if it’s short. Then you go searching through the shelves sorted as “unread” until you find a lovely thick DSM edition hiding in the psychology section.

You turn to the page with your symptoms, and point to it. Major Depressive Disorder.

“I have depression.”

He stiffens as he reads the symptoms, and looks at you with concern. “You.. feel this way?”

“Most of it. Sometimes,” you shrug.

“What can I do?”

You really don’t know, though. That’s the hardest thing about this.

He spends the whole day going through the list of symptoms and trying to come up with ways to support you through each one. 

The amount of care he takes--, making sure to explain that he’s currently working on improving your anhedonia, for example -- doesn’t make it go away, but it does make you feel safe. 

Belphegor

He just Gets It.

He's been there.

He will stay in bed with you as long as you want.

But he'll remind you to take care of yourself. He'll tell you to take a shower, or eat something.

He'll be pushy about it too, because he knows that it helps even when you really really really don't want to

If you start feeling self-conscious or like a burden to him, he will tell you to stop listening to your depression brain. 

He fights your every insecurity with stories, memories, and firm reminders. If any of this were true, would he be here with you, now?

He never pushes you to lie about how you're feeling, and is honestly probably one of the best people to have around during this time.

He reminds you that it will pass. It’s okay.

[clefairymuke]

regrets | chapter eleven

prev. chapter | next chapter

pairing: levi ackerman x reader

themes: enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut

tw: violence / explicit sexual content

word count: 1913

Ten feet. That's how far you had walked today without stopping to rest. Hange was practically jumping up and down, and Jean hugged you more tightly than he ever had before. For the first time in weeks, you started to feel a little less helpless. On the way back to the infirmary room, you held on to Jean's arm and limped back rather than being carried. It made you feel strong. Today was a happy day, which you had decided for yourself when you woke up, warm and cozy as you could possibly be under the thin white blanket that adorned the soft mattress. You felt refreshed; ready to work on your leg that morning, ready to see Jean, ready to make more progress. In the furthest part of your brain, you were also ready to see Levi that night. He was gone already when you woke up, like every other day, but that had never bothered you. The thought of good-morning small talk with Levi was awkward at best.

Now, you sat across from Jean with a hand of cards. You thumbed through them for what felt like the tenth time as Jean took his sweet time on his turn. He finally laid down a card, only for you to play one of the moves you'd thought out over the last five minutes as soon as he did. As the cycle started again, you found yourself looking out the window. The sun was almost ready to begin sinking, the blue of the sky becoming duller by the minute. You greedily awaited the purples and pinks that meant teatime. Throughout the day, the quietly nagging piece of your mind that wanted to see Levi grew bigger and bigger, until you finally had to admit to yourself that you were excited for it. You decided it was half because the tea was good, partially because he was good company, and a little bit because your hand still tingled when you thought of him.

Jean's turns got painstakingly longer as the game went on, so much so that you thought he was doing it deliberately. Your impatience grew as the sky turned orange, and Jean put the cards away. When he left, the sun touched the horizon.

The brevity of your alone time was unexpected yet welcome; the thoughts that possessed your brain while you sat in that room were hardly ever pleasant. You decided you were grateful that you didn't have your own bedroom -- the presence of company had become necessary in recent weeks. In that brief alone time, however, your mind did not hesitate to race. You recounted the events of the day before: Eren's anger, Levi's affection. For someone confined to a room, the past few weeks had surely been interesting.

You wondered about how it felt when he had touched you; you had many theories, but the leading one was that Levi put some sort of numbing solution on his hand to mess with you. Sure, it was out of character for him, but it was also out of character for you to do anything but dislike him. That was the theory you intended to stick beside.

Every time you heard the tiniest sound, your eyes shot to the door. Each time, you were met with disappointment. You looked around the room absentmindedly, eyes landing on the table that held only a glass of water. You leaned up as far as you could and grabbed it on two sides, sliding it between the chair and your bed. You felt accomplished when you laid back down, resting your hands on your stomach and focusing your eyes on the ceiling. You tried to push the thoughts of yesterday as far out of your mind as you could, but it was difficult. When the orange of the sky finally moved to pink, the door opened. There was Levi, as always, carrying along his tea set.

"Hey, Levi," you greeted him, a welcoming smile finding its way to the corners of your mouth. He nodded his head back to you as he sat down, his dark hair falling slightly forward as he leaned to pour his tea. For the first time, you studied the man sat in front of you. His lips were formed into a slight frown, more often than not. Though he was looking at his teacup, you knew his grey eyes looked focused, his thin eyebrows perpetually drawn down. You followed the slope of his nose with your eyes. His features were graceful yet sharp, all fitting cleanly together. The ends of his hair fell fell haphazardly along his cheekbones and ears, perhaps the one thing about him that wasn't perfectly neat.

"Why are you staring at me?" he asked when he looked up, sending blood rushing to your cheeks.

"I've been looking at this room for three weeks. There's nothing new about it. People look a little bit different every day," you answered him, your face hot. You pulled your eyes away from him in search of literally anything else to look at, finally focusing on your own folded hands.

"You're a pretty good liar, you know."

The two of you sat there chatting for at least an hour before you were interrupted by a knock at the door. Levi looked at you expectantly, and you told them to come in. It was a scout you didn't recognize, relatively tall, with shaggy brown hair that fell across his forehead. He only came in about a foot, then saluted. "Captain, the Commander needs to speak with you. He'd like you to come to his office as soon as possible," he said.

Levi nodded at him in dismissal, and the boy left as quickly as he had arrived. "I shouldn't be long. I'll be back soon," he told you as he stood. He followed the boy out the door and left you to the candlelit room all alone.

---

After two hours, you had long understood that Levi was a good liar, too.

It was now pitch black outside, the candle failing to provide much light. Sleep was fighting you tooth and nail as you shifted around the bed, attempting to find even one comfortable place. Your eyes were begging to shut, but your body wouldn't allow it. You continued like this for another half hour before your mind finally found rest, closer to passing out than comfortably drifting.

When Levi finally returned, the tea was cold. He was quiet as could be, careful not to wake you as he sat in the uncomfortable wooden chair; your position was less than peaceful, he noticed, your body more sprawled out than curled up and your hair in a tangled mess. Your eyebrows were drawn in tightly, your face displaying blatant discomfort. When he looked away, his eyes were pulled right back by a sound escaping your lips. It was soft, yet distressed. He wondered if he should wake you.

You started to toss and turn, your little gasps and groans growing more frequent and closer together. His brow furrowed, and he leaned forward. He tried to make out words, only deciphering the occasional "help" and "mom." Admittedly, it struck his curiosity. He sat and watched you for a moment more before rising from his seat and laying his hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently. "Hey, wake up," he said, trying to sound soft, but really only getting his typical tone across. He called your name, which tasted sweeter than it should have, twice before you finally roused awake.

You sat straight up, practically throwing his hand from your shoulder as you drew in shallow breaths. Your eyes darted around the room, vision a bit blurry, and you jumped when you saw Levi at your side. You were disoriented at best, not taking the time to speak. You noticed the tears brimming in your eyes after a moment, and immediately lifted your hands to wipe them.

"You were having a nightmare, I think. I'm sorry I took so long," Levi finally spoke up, not moving from your immediate bedside.

You cleared your throat, knowing sleep would still be present in your voice, before you replied. You looked over at him, his typical concerned expression more prominent than usual. "It's okay. It isn't your fault," you told him, laying your head in your hands. You felt vulnerable, and you didn't like it. Part of you wished Jean was here to snore loudly while you woke up in tears, not requiring you to interact with anyone.

"Are you okay?" he asked you. You noticed his hand twitch forward and then return to his side -- was he going to reach for you? You found yourself hoping he would.

"I'm . . ." you started, not really knowing how to finish your sentence. You tugged at a tangle in your hair. "Used to it, I guess. Not okay, not terrible. Just indifferent." You figured it summed up your emotions enough. Sleep had started to nag at your eyelids again, likely knowing it would be refreshing rather than restless now that you were no longer alone.

You laid your head back down and looked over at Levi, waiting for him to either reply or sit back down. He did neither; he stood there, studying your face as you had studied his only hours before. He didn't answer until his eyes finally met yours. "Do you need anything? At all?"

The look in his eyes was confusing, one you had never seen before. It was soft, almost endearing. Your voice answered him before your brain permitted it, and you regretted it as soon as it left your lips. "Would you lay with me?" You cursed your mouth and nearly vowed to never open it again. You felt yourself blushing, so much so that you wanted to turn over and bury your face in your pillow to never be seen again.

He wasn't embarrassed, though. His eyes widened a fraction for only a moment before he nodded, then sat on the edge of your bed and unlaced his boots. He pulled them off slowly and set them under the wooden frame, then stood and took off his jacket. He pulled his cravat from his neck swiftly and laid both over the back of the chair. He unbuttoned his shirt quickly, leaving only the gray shirt he wore beneath it. It joined the rest of his clothes on the chair. You moved away from the middle of the bed, allowing him plenty of room.

He didn't use it. He lifted the blanket and climbed in close to you, sliding his arm underneath your shoulders and gently guiding your head to his chest with his hand. Your heart had built up so much pressure you were sure it would explode out of your chest and leave the both of you a bloody mess. You adjusted yourself, shifting to face him and allowing your arm to drape over his stomach. You avoided looking up at him at all costs, but you could feel his eyes burning into the top of your head. This was the strangest, most foreign thing you had ever felt. The most off-center part was that you were entirely comfortable, your body more than relaxed despite your chest's unrelenting tightening.

"I --" you began, unsure of exactly what you were going to say. It didn't matter, because he was quick to interrupt you.

"Hush," he whispered. "Get some sleep."

[5uptic]

crewfu: fanfic spotlight!

We work together by Anonymous (5up & DK, unrated, gen | 248 words)

Summary: One likes plants and baking, the other loves to create and design video games. They stay up and create monstrosities together, it's their fun, it's their favourite game. Aka a 5up and Dk roommate au!

No matter how life tangles, I’m still here with you. by hungryandsleepy (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 279 words)

Summary: 5up has been working so hard on his new map, and of course, he needs someone to give him a motivation to go to sleep.

objectively pretty by vesque (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 462 words)

Summary: steve is drunk. he's pretty sure 5up is too. that doesn't mean being called pretty is any less momentuous.

you plus me by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 489 words)

Summary: 5up and Steve meet.

he said to me by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 656 words)

Summary: 5up and Steve share a moment.

by the snowmen by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 670 words)

Summary: Steve has a moment when it's all over.

today you got to know me (a little bit too slowly) by runninohhoney (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 675 words)

Summary: Steve lights up a cigarette. 5up doesn't smoke.

what would it take by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 787 words)

Summary: It's Steve's first mission. He hecks up. Or does he?

sorta cute by floweruru (5up/Steve, unrated, m/m | 822 words)

Summary: ‘I wouldn’t do that,’ he said. ‘That’s just disrespectful,’ he said. Yet there was 5up, crushed like a can in Steve’s embrace, feebly kicking at nothing as his feet leave the pavement.

i was gonna kill u, but ur kinda cute?? by Cthulhuer (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: Steve is a mess and 5up is worse.

I hear a Symphony by AwkwardAce (5up/Fundy, unrated, m/m | 1.1k words)

Summary: He exhaled until his lungs ached for air, fingers twitching as he opted to remove the sleek white gloves he wore in a feeble effort to soothe himself. It didn’t work. He wrung his trembling hands together as his eyes raked down the worn leather case taking in the doodles- some etched some drawn- across the faded surface. He snapped the buckles open and his breath hitched, catching in his already tight throat. For a moment the world span, his head throbbed and he wanted nothing more than to run and hide. 5up breathed out slowly, shakily.

staring by lytriis (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.1k words)

Summary: steve asks 5up out. 5up doesn’t know how to respond.

and it's four am, and yet, you're here by vesque (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: in which steve shows up at 5up's house, in the middle of the night, completely spontaneously

more than this by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: Steve catches 5up venting.

3:15 by vesque (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: Steve tries to guess Five's name. It's much more difficult than he anticipated.

things were different by fourpebbles (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.5k words)

Summary: His eyes circled around to his friends, Kimi and Janet engaging in pleasant comversation, sleepy and becoming increasingly more sober. He looked, finally, across him, and caught Dumbdog staring at him. What now bro, what did this guy want. small talk, turns into not small talk, then there's no talk

Once Upon A Dream by SmearedWords (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.5k words)

Summary: 5up looks ethereal, while Steve is struggling to breathe. "You're not real either." Or: Steve has a crush and a nightmare in three parts, 5up is tired, the crew life is hard and Polus sucks.

the ones you love will call you back by homeward_bound (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.8k words)

Summary: stevesuptic: dude, is it weird that i miss vegas   DumbDog: No? I do too.   stevesuptic: okay [steve misses vegas and apollo. they talk about it]

cough it out by cj__writes (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2k words)

Summary: Apollo thinks that Steve must be well and truly gone, at this point, because he giggles, like Apollo’s just told a particularly funny joke. He looks Apollo right in the eye and asks, “Do you trust me?” “Absolutely not.”

ivy by Secular_Czar (5up/Steve, teen rating, gen | 2.1k words)

Summary: It might be a sad day, in general, but Steve isn't about to let it get to him. His friends won't ever let him wallow either.

The Colosseum by WhenTheFogClears (general rating, gen | 2.1k words)

Summary: Five squinted, looking at the colosseum intensely. He thinks Apollo was latched onto the sphinx’s shoulder, fur matted with blood. Janet was slumped against a column, probably out, with Kimi whose bow was snapped in two, her leg twisted at an odd angle. DK was in the corner trying to cast various supporting hexes and charms with a broken arm, whilst Hafu was dragging a heavily bandaged Steve away. or 5up slaughters a cat

Oneshots :) by woofles1990 (5up/Fundy, 5up/Steve, teen rating, multi | 2.5k words, oneshot collection)

Summary: Just a bunch of MCYT/Among Us oneshots, mainly featuring 5up's crew because yes :)

the adventures of 5up and steve staying up late because they're under 30 by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.5k words)

Summary: “The night is young!” Steve yells at the ceiling, throwing his hands up in the air. “Take advantage of it! Commit crimes! Fuck hoes!” Five catches his hands in the air and laughs. “You wish you had hoes.”

unreasonably in love by cj__writes (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.6k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: "It was like pieces of a puzzle, everything coming together. And now, here they are, standing in their apartment, which looks more like a hollow shell than a home, filled solely with scattered boxes and the minuscule amount of furniture that they brought with them to Vegas." Or: what happens after Apollo and Steve move in together.

cant be love by fourpebbles (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 3.5 words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: He had chuckled to himself, he felt so stupid. Who in their fucking minds names a playlist 'sugr?', he thought, internally cringing. A story where a Steve meets an Apollo, and some things happen.

Somewhere in the darkness, us together for a while by tumtummeke (Apollo & Kimi & Steve, teen rating, gen | 3.6k words)

Summary: Apollo worries about Steve. Steve breaks his vape pen. Kimi plays power washer. Self-indulgent angst, with a generous helping of friendship and cuddles.

odyssey by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 23k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: "First you will come to the Sirens who enchant all who come near them. If any one unwarily draws in too close and hears the singing of the Sirens...they warble him to death with the sweetness of their song. Therefore pass these Sirens by and stop your men's ears with wax that none of them may hear." -Homer, The Odyssey

Also: SilverSprinklez10‘s yupwaves collection.

Summary: This is a Harry Potter AU based on the characters/personas of the youtubers/streamers.

FAQ:

Wait what is this: pretty straight to the point! i’ll regularly share crewfu-related fanfictions to this blog :)

How regularly is “regularly”?: great question! LOL. it depends on the flow of fanfics that get uploaded, which i do not have any control over, but i’m looking forward to do this twice a month. after all, it’s only me doing this and i often run on a tight schedule.

What’s the format like?:

[title of fic with link] by [author of the fic with link] ([main pairing(s), if there is one/multiple], [fic rating: eg, general rating], [relationship: eg, m/m] | [word count in k] ([added prompt to specify if it’s complete or not)])

Summary: [summary provided by the author. if it doesn’t have a summary, a “No summary” prompt will be put instead]

(What does WIP mean again?): Work In Progress :)

Why are you doing this?: from the beginning, my blog has hosted conversations about RPF (real people fiction) and crewfu pairings. this has evolved into people sending me updates about certain fics in the crewfu tags every now and then, but i wanna take the next step and just do these things myself. after all, i’m already lurking in the tags often to see the fics that get posted. as someone who is both a writer and a reader, i wanna appreciate fanfic writers and help out other people that want to read fanfic and consume more fandom content!

Will it be AO3 only?: well, ao3 has a very helpful tag system that makes finding fics incredibly easy, as well as allowing people with no accounts to like and comment on fics, so that’s the site i will personally look in for fanworks. but if there are any fics you’ve written or liked in any other platforms, such as wattpad, you can always contact me through my inbox (send an ask or a dm!), and i’ll make sure to include for the next fanfic spotlight :)

Does it mean you won’t reply to fic asks anymore?: yeah, i guess. since i’ll be doing the searching myself it seems counterproductive. but if i ever skip a fic or again, it’s in another platform, or you’ve posted/read the fic a while ago and you want to get more traction on it, hit me up and i’ll take it into consideration!

Will you read every single one of the fics on your list?: oh no. again, i run on a tight schedule, and also i have my own taste when it comes to fics. i won’t be reviewing fics or any of the sort, and my intention extends to simply sharing these fics to this page so people will have easier access to them :) that’s where ao3 tagging becomes SUPER useful!!!

So what’s the criteria for the way you’ll sort out the fics in your list?: word count, going from lowest to highest. in case of fics in other platforms, i guess i’ll put them at the top of the list. i’ll also be looking for fairly recent fics, so let me know if you want any old-ish fic to be included.

I see you talking mostly about 5up/Steve and Steve/Apollo. Can I still send/see other crewfu fics?: why yes absolutely! my goal is to push every fic which heavily features regular crewfu characters - 5uptic and supdog just happen to be very popular pairings. so, to give you a list: core 4 (5up, hafu, dk, steve), apollo, aipha, annie, janet, kimi, ellum, koji... you know the drill. it doesn’t have to be centered on a relationship, or about 5up in specific, etc. my only requirement is that any of the previously mentioned members are a central part of the fic or are HEAVILY featured in it (sorry, minecraft fics with 50+ tags who only mention 5up as an afterthought won’t make the cut :/).

Isn’t shipping Bad™?: well, it’s a little more nuanced than that. i will go out of my way to discourage and shame people who often violate CCs’ boundaries by acting like so and so has a crush on this person, or that this and that are Actually Into Each Other or secretly dating. any sort of tinhat bullshit is a big nono (think larries). but i run on the assumption that people who write rpf understand that what they’re doing is simply write a completely fictional story using real life personalities, and understand the boundaries necessary to do it - aka they’re not tinhats, they understand they can’t assume everything about CCs’ thoughts and personalities, they understand that what they’re writing is strictly fiction, they keep these works only in fandom circles, etc. (but again, it’s only one me doing this, so please be kind if i don’t happen to know that this person is Actually a tinhat or whatever).

show fic: NO. (seriously. i don’t feel comfortable putting my ao3 account out there. please respect my privacy on these trying times <3)

I REALLY don’t care about your rpf/fic talk: fair! i’ll be tagging every single one of these posts as “fanfic spotlight”, so just mute the tag using tumblr settings so you’ll never have to look at these! likewise, you can follow the tag if you want to keep up with it, or search it on my blog to look at the other entries you might have missed (but this is the first one! lol).

Hey, my fic is here and I don’t feel comfortable with it being shared over here: no problem! let me know as soon as you can and i’ll take it down <3

[sleptwithinthesun]

Oooh, anything for T/op G/un with someone having a cold.

going with w/olfman because he's my favorite ngl. i tried to tame the plot, no idea if it worked, but i still hope you enjoy 1.2K words! regardless of whether or not this is actually good, i'm going to try to write something else for t/op g/un this week as well, and that should be more... focused than this one is lol

Hollywood really shouldn't be as surprised as he is to learn that they have time off while at TOPGUN, but nevertheless, it manages to catch him off guard. He's not complaining, though; they've been flying two hops a day for the past five days straight, not to mention all the aviation lectures scattered between them. Out of the two of them, Wolfman's the one who needs to constantly be busy, not Hollywood, and the approaching weekend is much appreciated.

They even stay in that Friday night to take full advantage of it, remaining on-base instead of joining the majority of their classmates over at the O Bar. Hollywood's sure they'll hear about the night's events in the morning, so for now, he's perfectly content to settle into the couch of their shared housing while Wolf takes the floor, picking at a loose thread on the rug until Hollywood reaches down to slap his hand away. "Quit it," he murmurs, gentle, then jerks his head towards the console to their left. "Check if there're any board games in there, alright?"

Wolf nods, only standing after a few seconds pass where his face goes completely blank, like he's just forgotten what Hollywood said even though there's been nothing to distract him from it. It wouldn't be the first time this has happened, though, and Hollywood bites down on a smile as his RIO stands and crosses to the console. "Which game d'you want to play?" he asks, poking through the various boxes.

"They got Clue?"

He waits patiently for a response as Wolf searches, then calls, "Yep!"

Hollywood's already shifted to the edge of the couch by the time the other returns, the box for Clue in his right hand and two pencils clutched in the left. He tosses one towards Hollywood, who manages to miss it in a display of startlingly bad hand-eye coordination, rolling his eyes when the younger laughs at him.

"Come on, I wasn't expecting that," he protests, but he's grinning too. Wolf sets the box down on the table, letting Hollywood open it up while he takes his place on the floor again, one arm resting on the table as he spins his pencil between his fingers. Ice taught him how to do that on their second day, and since then, Wolf's been doing it almost obsessively. Hollywood doesn't think he even realizes he's fidgeting, though, not with the attention he's still able to give their lecturers and the ease with which he slips the pencil back into position in order to take notes.

Hollywood wordlessly passes Wolf the red piece, to which he wrinkles his nose and turns the board so that he no longer has to be Miss Scarlet. Instead, he gets Miss White, and Hollywood, being seated to his left, takes Professor Plum.

As he's slipping the three murder cards into the envelope, Wolf twists and coughs suddenly into his elbow, putting a hand down on the floor to stabilize himself as they slowly intensify.

Hollywood's brow furrows, and he glances over at him as the fit peaks. "Jeez, you alright?"

Wolf nods, coughing a few more times before turning back. He inhales deeply as he takes his cards and paper, placing the latter on his knee and beginning to check off what he has. "Yeah, just choked on my spit," he dismisses, his voice a bit strained when he speaks. "'M ready whenever you are."

Hollywood hasn't even looked at his cards yet, but okay. Sure. Whatever Wolf says. "Hold on, kid," he teases, smiling when Wolf sends him a halfhearted glare, already used to the term.

He fiddles with the rest of the pieces while Hollywood marks down his cards, then stares at his RIO for a moment. He's been more restless than he normally is today, and while Hollywood's sure some of that is just because they don't have any explicit work to do for two whole days, but there's something else to it that he can't quite place his finger on. He and Wolf have been flying together for two years, ever since Wolf first joined their squadron, but he still doesn't know everything about the younger aviator.

Still, he taps him on the arm and asks, "Alright, you ready to begin?"

Wolf nods, dropping the other pegs back into the box and turning his attention to the game. Truthfully, Hollywood knows he hates Clue because the gameplay is non-linear, but Wolf's also annoyingly good at it when he's not hung up on the intricacies of the layout. His first roll gets him a four, and he creeps slowly towards the ballroom.

"We should have tried to get Ice and Slider in on this," Hollywood comments as he shakes the die. "I'm pretty sure they stayed in, too."

"Yeah," Wolf murmurs, then turns and pulls his elbow up to his face. "h'shhiew! shiew!"

Hollywood looks up from his piece, now closer to the study than it was previously, and blesses Wolf before handing the die back. The younger sniffles, presses his knuckle to his nose, and ducks into his elbow again. "Sorry, h-hang on... h'eshh-schiew!"

"Bless you again," Hollywood says, brow furrowing in confusion but lips twisting in amusement. He doesn't comment on the higher pitch of the little fit, even though it's kind of cute.

"Thanks," Wolf murmurs, "sorry."

"Don't apologize."

"Sorry—"

Hollywood sends him a deadpan glare. "What did I just say?"

Wolf opens his mouth, probably to apologize again, then shuts it and shakes the die instead, rolling it and moving up two spaces before passing it over to Hollywood without another word.

After he rolls, Hollywood glances at his paper again and says, "Okay, uh, I'm going to suggest... Mr. Green in the study with the lead pipe."

Wolf sighs and shows him his card with the study on it, and Hollywood crosses off the space on his paper. "Why'd you choose Clue?" he whines, taking the die back and rolling it, moving his piece into the ballroom. "I'm suggesting Miss Scarlet in the ballroom with the candelabra."

"Candelabra?"

"The thing that holds the candle?"

"That's a candlestick, Wolf," Hollywood tells him, "and seriously, what's your issue with Miss Scarlet?"

"She sucks," Wolf states plainly, then looks at him expectantly.

Hollywood shuffles through his cards, then says, "I've got nothing."

"Are you fucking serious?"

He drops his pencil, repeating his suggestion as a mumbled accusation as he reaches for the envelope in the middle of the board, his head dropping against Hollywood's shoulder a second later. "Game finished. Please, can we go hang out with Ice and Slider now?"

"Why do you hate Clue so much?" Hollywood huffs, laughing as Wolf just groans into his shirt. "Fine, help me clean up and then we can go over to their place."

Wolf immediately starts sweeping the murder instruments into his hand, dumping them unceremoniously into the box as Hollywood's slightly more gentle with the pegs and die. "They're down the hall, in two-oh-two."

"I'm not even going to ask why you know that."

"Good."

Hollywood shakes his head to himself, placing the top back on the box and leaving it on the table. They'll put it back when they return.

"ekshiew! shhiew!"

"Bless you for, what, the third time now? You feeling okay?"

"Sounds right," Wolf says, rescuing his pencil from the floor and walking over to the dining table, where the folder with all of his notes and homework (Hollywood insists on calling them "assignments", but Wolf has no such qualms about essentially being back in school) is. "Maybe a little bit off, but 's probably just whatever the fuck this California pollen is or something. Are you good to go?"

"Mm-hm," Hollywood hums, nodding, and lets Wolf lead the way.

[hxseok-honee]

atlas heart || jung hoseok

>> because hoseok's too lost in his thoughts to see he's not alone <<

_____________________________

1973, October

“I could have sworn the tracks were around here somewhere… are those it?” Hoseok moves through the Forbidden Forest, the flashlight on his phone guiding his way in his blind search for his most recent obsession. He’s only 13, and he’s well aware that every other normal 13-year-old is fast asleep in their bed this late at night, but he’s never been normal. Crouching low to the forest floor, he holds out his phone to get a better look at the animal tracks stamped into the mud. When he sees that they look vaguely dog-like, he can’t help the cheer of success that escapes him. Only when it echoes through the air around him does he remember just how reckless he’s acting by being out here without having informed Dumbledore first.

The headmaster had granted him access to the Forbidden Forest on strict instructions to always ask permission before venturing into it. Usually, Hoseok would have visited the man, but tonight he’d just gotten so excited about potentially discovering the legendary sentient pack of wolves that he had simply… forgotten about the one rule he’s always supposed to follow. The wind picks up suddenly, and a shiver rips through him violently. He shakes his head, returning his attention to the tracks on the ground and the notes he’d jotted down in his journal beforehand.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll just stay a few more minutes, and then--” The sound of heavy breathing just behind him brings Hoseok’s monologue to a screeching halt, and when he turns to look over his shoulder, he very much wishes that he hadn’t.

Hovering between the trees not too far away is a creature he’d only seen in his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. The werewolf hasn’t seen him yet, and that’s the only reason Hoseok hasn’t started running for his life. It’s sniffing cautiously at the air around it, whining softly every few moments as if in pain. Without even daring to take a breath, Hoseok slips his phone into the pocket of his pajama pants, praying to whatever higher being that might be watching over him at that moment that it hasn’t noticed the flashlight and will continue to remain oblivious to his presence.

Rising to his feet painstakingly slowly, he starts to back away from the werewolf, refusing to even blink out of fear that he’ll miss the moment he’s caught. Pursing his lips together to keep himself from breathing too loudly, he immediately opens them to gasp when his foot comes down on a branch, the snap of it attracting the werewolf’s attention right to him.

In the seconds that follow, Hoseok isn’t sure when he started running or when he started crying, but he’s suddenly stumbling through the forest, his vision blurred with hot tears as he tries to escape. Leaves crunch behind him, alerting him to just how close he is to being ripped to shreds.

I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to-- there!

Slipping on a piles of leaves, Hoseok makes a beeline for the tree just beyond the clearing he’s currently racing through, having seen its low-hanging branches even through his tears. He screams when he feels something tear the back of his shirt, and he knows that he’s literally within death’s reach. Unwilling to look back, he starts to climb, swinging himself up through the branches until he gets to the stable trunk of the humongous tree. He can hear scratching just below him, and he knows the werewolf is trying to follow. He spares a glance down at the ground when he gets high enough, seeing that it’s failed to chase him up the tree. Hoseok climbs a few feet higher just for good measure and stares down at the creature that’s watching him with predatory eyes. It even goes so far as to howl at him, startling him beyond his current state of overwhelming fear.

Settling into his spot in the tree, Hoseok examines himself, feeling at his torso and limbs with trembling hands for any wounds. His pajama shirt is essentially useless now, but there are no scratches, which is really all he cares about. Watching the werewolf carefully as it circles the tree, he reaches for his phone to call for help, only to find his pockets empty. He'd dropped the damn thing.

“Damn it… looks like I’m stuck here for the night.” Glaring hatefully up at the full moon, he gauges how many hours it’ll be before the sun rises and decides that this might as well serve as firsthand research into werewolves.

For the next three hours, Hoseok watches the wolf dance around his hiding spot, trying with futility every now and then to make its way up the tree to him. Eventually, it howls wildly at the moon, the sound almost pained. Hoseok watches with horror as it turns on itself in frustration, tearing at its own skin with cries of pain and rage. He can only watch for a few minutes before he’s reaching out for anything in the tree that’ll get its attention. Latching onto a branch nearby that’s weak enough for him to break off, he launches it down at the werewolf, yelling out to it angrily.

“Hey! Hey, stop that! You’re gonna kill yourself doing that, you idiot!” The creature glares up at him in surprise, almost as if having forgotten his presence. It snarls at him once, and Hoseok immediately regrets that he’s just reminded it that there’s a meal not even 20 feet above its head. When it sees that it still can’t reach him, it turns back on itself, its skin already torn and bloody.

For the next hour or so, Hoseok plays this game with the werewolf -- throwing whatever he can get his hands on down at it so that it doesn’t hurt itself anymore, and then sitting in fearful silence as it attempts to snag him from the tree. By the time the sun’s started to peek out from behind the mountains, Hoseok is both proud of himself for not letting this werewolf die and in a real state of annoyance for keeping its dangerous attention on him for so much longer than necessary.

When the first beams of light hit his face, he feels an overwhelming sense of relief wash over him, but it doesn’t last long. Below him, there’s a quiet whimpering, and when he looks down, there’s a young girl curled up on the ground, very naked and very wounded. Swearing under his breath, Hoseok scrambles down the tree, stopping short when he turns and sees just how young she is. Despite this girl almost having torn him apart, he only feels sympathy.

It tears at his heart even as he’s removing what’s left of his pajamas, shivering in his boxer shorts as the chilly October air nips at his skin. Doing his best to avert his eyes wherever necessary, he pulls the shirt over her head, cradling her in his lap as he slips his pants onto her body, noting just how small she looks in them. There’s so much blood that, if not for her labored breaths, he wouldn’t even be able to tell if she was still alive.

Lifting her onto his back, he tries so painfully hard not to jostle her as he races through the forest, piggy-backing her across the grounds and into the castle in the faint early morning light.

1974, January

Hoseok hears the crunching of the leaves long before it comes anywhere near him. It’s just around lunchtime -- he’d learned his lesson about wandering the forest late at night. Turning just when the person gets close enough that he’s sure to be discovered, he isn’t prepared to meet the eyes of the same girl who’d tried to kill him all those months ago.

She’s peering out at him from behind a tree, her gaze filled with caution and, quite honestly, fear. Hoseok rises from his crouch, a noise of recognition leaving him and falling into the space between them awkwardly.

“It’s you… you’re okay.” Hoseok remembers staying with her after bursting into the Hospital Wing with her on his back, her blood staining his skin for much longer than he’d care to think about. Once he’d known for sure that Madam Pomfrey could help her, he hates to admit that he’d run straight for his room, sobbing as he’d tried to scrub her blood from his body in the shower before any of his roommates could wake up. Even now, he sometimes stares down at his arms under the burning hot water and thinks it might be pinker than it actually is.

He’d avoided almost everyone from that moment on -- in fact the only person he’d talk to was Dumbledore. He’d demanded to know what the hell was going on at Hogwarts, but even through his anger he hadn’t been able to erase the memory of her, the cries of pain that had left her as she’d tried to rip her heart from her own body. Only when he’d stopped barging into Dumbledore’s office, blind with terrified rage, had he started visiting the man simply because he could think of nothing -- could feel nothing -- but the need to protect her from herself.

“She’s just a kid.” He’d told the headmaster one day, wracked with a terrible sadness. “She didn’t know what she was doing -- she’s just a kid…”

“Mister Jung, why exactly is it that you keep coming to me when you’re conflicted? What is it that I can do to ease your pain?” He’d met Dumbledore’s concerned gaze then, his own eyes wide and watery with tears of frustration.

“I need to do something. I need you to help me help her. Please.”

“It’s you…” Hoseok finds that he’s repeating himself, calling out to her in the softest of whispers, terrified of scaring her off. She inches out from behind the tree, and Hoseok notes that, for a murderous werewolf, she’s shaking like a leaf in his presence. She’s holding a paper bag, refusing to meet his eyes as she creeps toward him. Hoseok only watches with careful eyes, taking her in in the light of the day.

When she’s close enough to reach out to him, she stretches the bag out in front of her, offering it to him. He takes it with care, opening it slowly and peeking in at its contents. There’s a bowl inside covered in tin foil, and when he removes it he sees there’s a serving of pasta, still warm from the Great Hall.

“I asked Jungkookie to keep an eye on you at meal times to see what you liked, but you never eat lunch… so it took a while for me to find out…” Her voice is soft, fearful. The sound of it has him fixating on her again, almost obsessed with this new layer of her that he hadn’t known until now. He has no idea who ‘Jungkookie’ is, but a part of him is relieved to know she has a friend. He opens his mouth to thank her for the meal, but she’s not done talking.

“It’s not much of an apology, but I needed an excuse to say it in person… I’m really sorry for what happened that night… I’ve been trying to gather the courage to face you, and I understand if you hate me for almost killing you…” They stand there in uncomfortable silence, Hoseok unable to respond to such an unexpected conversation. She takes his silence as her cue to leave him be, and, with the slightest tremble of her lips, she turns to leave. Hoseok blinks, stepping toward her slightly.

“Wait, don’t -- don’t go.” She looks up at him in surprise, the expression turning to guarded caution when he reaches into his pocket for something. Catching the change in her body language, he moves slowly, pulling a vial out and offering it to her. Its contents, a milky grey, emit a faint blue smoke which swirls gently in the space between the liquid and the vial’s topper. She takes it from him, examining it with confusion. He explains, stepping ever closer to her.

“I have more in my room… I packed it away so no one would find it. It’s supposed to taste really, really bad, but Dumbledore said… he said it would help.” She gazes up at him, her eyes glazing over with unshed tears as she realizes what he’s gifted her.

“Why are you… why are you helping me after what I did?” Hoseok smiles ever so slightly, crouching so he can sit on the cold ground and motioning for her to do the same. When she’s next to him, he removes the bowl from the bag she’d handed him and digs into the pasta. He swallows hard, offering her the fork as casually as possible when he’s done. He offers it once more when she looks at him in surprise, his smile widening as she finally picks at a noodle carefully before setting it between her teeth.

They sit there awkwardly, taking turns eating his lunch, while he figures out how to answer her. Eventually he just decides not to, asking his own question instead.

“What’s your name?” He knows it, of course -- Dumbledore had told him only after Hoseok had begged to know, but he wants to hear her say it. He wants to know if she’ll trust him with even that much. He’s barely able to contain his smile when it falls from her lips in a whisper.

“It’s Y/n… I’m Y/n.”

1976, May

Hoseok runs a hand down the side of his face, rubbing at his eye with a yawn as he stares down at the endless pile of study material on the table in front of him. With only a few weeks until his O.W.L exams, he can feel himself quickly falling apart from the stress. His only saving grace is the boy that sits in front of him, looking equally exhausted. Yoongi stifles a yawn of his own as he scratches down a few notes on the scroll of parchment before him, only pausing when he realizes he’s being watched. Glancing up through his lashes and finding that Hoseok’s staring quite openly at him, the pale boy flushes with embarrassment. Masking his smile at the reaction he’s gotten out of Yoongi, Hoseok raises a single eyebrow, gesturing at his cheek.

You’ve got ink on your face, he mouths, careful not to be too loud in such a silent, crowded library. Yoongi’s own eyebrows flick up, and he scrubs at his completely ink-free cheek with the sleeve of his sweater. Hoseok glances around at the rest of the table, filled with the group of their housemates that he always finds himself surrounded by, and notes that none of them have noticed this little conversation he and Yoongi are having.

Emboldened by this thinly-veiled privacy, Hoseok leans forward and reaches across the table, catching Yoongi’s attention. Swiping his thumb along the span of cheek where he’d claimed to have seen this nonexistent ink, he lets his hand linger on Yoongi’s skin. He leans back with an easy smile when he sees that Yoongi’s stopped breathing entirely, cursing himself internally for the sudden show of affection. He’s about to return to his work as if he hadn’t just very clearly hit on his own roommate, but a flash of blue passing by catches his eye.

Almost as if nothing else exists, Hoseok’s vision focuses in on a very familiar Ravenclaw, watching as she makes her way down one of aisles in search of something. A quick glance at the date on his phone tells him that the next full moon is less than a week away, and suddenly he’s rising to his feet, completely forgetting about the boy he’s just caused to short-circuit as he wanders in Y/n’s direction.

Keeping his pace easy, as if he’s looking for something himself, he alerts her to his presence with a simple brush of his elbow against her torso. She jumps lightly, glancing up at him before looking away, not wanting to be seen interacting with him. She reaches up for a book on a shelf above her head, but her fingers are barely able to skim the spine of it. Hoseok reaches up for it immediately and, once he’s lowered the tome into her hands, he’s checking his surroundings.

When he knows no one’s looking, he lifts his hand to her forehead, feeling for her temperature while she still faces inward toward the bookshelves. Grimacing at the warmth, he lowers his hand to her throat, pressing two fingers into her pulse point. It’s thunderous under his touch, about as fast as it usually gets right before the full moon.

Releasing her, he positions himself in the opposite direction as her, leaning against the shelves as he thumbs through a random book. After a moment, he lifts his gaze, meeting her eyes and breathing out deeply when he sees how bloodshot they are. She looks exhausted, her expression hazy and disoriented enough that Hoseok almost steps in to steady her, forgetting that they’re in public.

Guessing that he’s been here too long, Hoseok offers Y/n one last squeeze to her hand as he passes her on his way out of the aisle. It’s only when he takes his seat and takes out his phone to text Jungkook that he remembers how, not even five minutes ago, all he could think about was the boy in front of him. It seems silly to him now, stressing over a schoolboy crush when he’s got so much more to worry about.

1977, September

“H-hobi?” Hoseok looks up from where he’s examining animal tracks, his eyebrows raised with amusement when Y/n comes into view. She’d only just called him that nickname for the first time over text not 15 minutes ago -- he can’t help but find it endearing that she’s testing the waters in person.

“Hey, you.” She’s holding two paper bags, their lunches likely packed by house elves so she could avoid the Great Hall. Hoseok beckons her over, pointing at a fallen tree trunk not far away for her to sit on. She perches on it quietly, setting his lunch down next to her for whenever he gets hungry. He can tell by the cautious way she’s eating that she’s trying her best not to disturb him, and he can’t help but snicker under his breath. He glances up to meet her confused gaze before returning to the animal tracks, his smirk well-placed.

“You get invited to a nice lunch by a friendly housemate, but instead of awkwardly sitting with Park Jimin and his friends, you choose… to sit awkwardly with me in the forest.” He doesn’t need to look up again to see that she’s probably blushing, always embarrassed when he mentions how shy she still gets when she’s alone with him. It never happens when they’re texting or talking on the phone -- almost as if not physically being near him gives her courage, she shows him her true self in those moments. But when they’re alone like this, Hoseoks feels the effect that his presence has on her.

It’s been years since they’d first met, but Hoseok can tell Y/n still feels guilty and indebted to him for the night she’d almost killed him.

No matter how many times he’s tried to free her of that feeling, tried to reassure her that he’d forgiven her long ago, she inevitably becomes nervous every time they’re together. It almost makes Hoseok feel like they’d never get past it, and for that, he worries. He knows he’s not Jungkook -- boy, does he know it -- but no amount of teasing seems to ease the concern he feels when he sees how uncomfortable she is around him. Sometimes, the thought crosses his mind that maybe he shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place. At least then, she wouldn’t have to face her guilt every time she meets his eyes.

“See, Moony, we told you Hoseok would be out here! Good man, predictable as always.” The sound of four pairs of feet heading in their direction has Hoseok rising to his feet, ready to greet the newcomers. He smirks when Sirius and James crash into the clearing, followed closely by Remus and Peter.

“Boys -- welcome to my little corner of the forest.” The Marauders greet Hoseok easily, their attention only drawn away when they see Hoseok’s not alone.

“Y/n! What a nice surprise!” Sirius calls out to her with a boyish grin, to which she only offers a shy smile and a wave. Lupin peers around Hoseok, smiling kindly in Y/n’s direction.

“Alright, Y/n?” Hoseok can practically feel the embarrassment radiating off of Y/n behind him, her crush on the older boy painfully obvious.

“R-remus, hi…” Sirius and James share a knowing glance, offering the same look to Hoseok when they’re done. He only rolls his eyes playfully, causing them to break out in matching smirks at his reaction. Deciding that he should maybe save Y/n from all the attention, Hoseok addresses them.

“So, what can this lowly Slytherin do for such high-ranking Gryffindors?” Sirius claps Hoseok on the shoulder good-naturedly at the remark.

“If only all Slytherins were like you, Jung. You’re one of a kind.” Hoseok only nods at the compliment, glancing at Remus for the answer to his previous question. The boy smiles tiredly in response.

“We were hoping you’d be able to help me out this month… our supplies are running low, and we can’t make enough for my full dosage.” Hoseok hums, thinking about the potion kit sitting under his bed. After a moment, he nods.

“I think I’ve got enough to spare this month. I’ve noticed there’s a shortage of certain ingredients recently, so it would be hard for you guys to get restocked in time. Let me know what you need.” He says it with finality, knowing how hard it would be on Remus this month without the wolfsbane potion. Lupin smiles gratefully at him, pulling a list from his pocket and beckoning Hoseok in to peruse it with him.

In the midst of jotting down notes in his phone for later, Hoseok hears when Sirius and James shift their attention to the girl still sitting on the tree trunk quietly. They call out, Sirius motioning out over Hoseok’s shoulder at her.

“Y/n, why are you so far away? We’re not strangers, you know!” Hoseok can tell it’s a very obvious ploy to get her to stand closer to Remus, but he ignores their antics while he focuses on the list of potion ingredients. Y/n doesn’t respond, and Hoseok thinks maybe she’s politely declined their invitation to join them, but a gentle tug at the back of his shirt alerts him to her presence.

Pulling his gaze from the list just long enough to glance over his shoulder, he finds her there, peering out at the Gryffindors from behind his shoulder. Hoseok knows from experience and years of friendship with Y/n that she can certainly hold her own -- she’s a werewolf for fuck’s sake -- but in this moment she looks so… small. Hoseok definitely has the height, but the pull of her hand on his shirt and the way she seems to cling to him -- it makes him feel like a wall between her and the world. Even in front of her childhood crush and his friends, people that have proven time and time again to be her allies, she’s won't face them head-on.

Humming contemplatively, a slight smirk growing on his lips, James shoots Hoseok a nod of acknowledgement at the display.

“It seems Y/n has more than just Jungkook to protect her.” The grip on the back of his shirt tightens, as if to tell him that she doesn’t like the attention she’s being given. Years of hiding from everyone and anyone who could possibly look her way had made her anxious person, and Hoseok knows she’s not comfortable. The Gryffindor's comment bounces around in his mind as he realizes that, despite how nervous Hoseok makes her, James is right. Y/n has deliberately put herself behind him -- it’s not that he’s conveniently in the way, a wall without purpose. Hoseok knows that he probably could have seen this long ago, that he's been too stuck thinking of his presence as a burden to her to see this simple truth.

That she needs him.

[beewolfwrites]

An Iron Box - The Black Envelope

@cheshiya @tenseoyong @szallejhscorner @something-more-original-please @ofsunsetsandpoetries @nek0dzuken @allozaur @hiqhkey @serenzippity

Finally got an update for you all! It only took about a week :’) Hopefully this wasn’t too boring a chapter, but there’s Kuina content, so does that make up for it? 

I will also update the master post too, I promise!

Here’s the AO3 Link. 

Thanks for reading <3

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

The black envelope was nothing more than a pointless ritual created by Hatter to fuel his paranoia. But it was almost incredible seeing how many of the executives and militants still obeyed it. Niragi had suggested opening it right then and there, only Aguni refused and decided to leave it until the next day - an unusual choice for someone who should’ve been desperate to become number-one as quickly as possible. 

Perhaps there was more between him and Hatter than he let on. 

I’d invited the others to join me in my room to go over the plan, and as expected, Kuina was the first to arrive. From the moment she closed the door behind her and jumped onto my bed, it became apparent she still hadn’t let go of our conversation this morning. 

‘You,’ she said pointedly. ‘Did you really think I’d have nothing to say about what you told me earlier?’ 

I sank into a chair by the window. ‘What I told you isn’t any of your business.’ 

‘Uh-uh. That’s bull and you know it. She’s our friend…well, she’s my friend, god only knows what she is to you. If you’re going to hurt her it’s absolutely my business.’ 

Hurt her? That simply wasn’t possible. If anything, nothing would ever change beyond what it is now, and the one who gets hurt wouldn’t be her. The thought made me smile. 

‘I have no intention of it.’ 

Kuina drummed her fingers on her knee. ‘Why do I not believe you?’

‘I don’t care about romance,’ I replied. ‘And what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.’

At this, Kuina’s fingers stilled. ‘You mean, you’re not going to tell her?’ 

‘Of course not.’ 

‘You can’t do that, Chishiya,’ she said. ‘You just can’t.’ 

‘And why not?’

She slapped her hand on the bed. ‘Because that is hurting her.’ 

That’s ridiculous. Telling her would only push her further away. 

Before I could respond, the door cracked open. We had a guest. Arisu shyly stepped inside, Usagi and (name) shuffling in behind him. 

‘Just in time.’ I gestured towards the chairs and the couch. Arisu and Usagi took two of the chairs, while (name) seated herself on the end of couch closest to my seat. ‘Kuina, make sure the door’s shut properly.’ 

‘It’s shut.’  

Her voice was clipped, and the way she was pouting was simply childish. She could try and make a point all she wanted. What I had confessed to her would stay a secret, whether she liked it or not. I reached into the drawer of a side-table and pulled out the walkie talkies I had collected weeks ago. 

‘I’m sure you’ve already guessed this, but Hatter didn’t come back from his last game.’ The statement was meant for Kuina, Usagi and (name), as Arisu had already witnessed the body, however nobody seemed shocked by the news. ‘The militants are saying that he was shot in his game, but his body was actually discovered floating in the river by one of the supply runners.’ 

‘Wait,’ Usagi cut in. ‘How do you know about his body?’ 

I could’ve done without her skepticism, but she was the key to Arisu’s cooperation. ‘The supply runner told An in secret after our meeting, and I just happened to be nearby. Either way, Hatter was ambushed and shot, and Aguni is now the Beach’s new leader.’ 

The room fell silent, until Arisu whispered, ‘It’s just like you predicted.’ He ran his fingers along his mouth, rocking gently in his seat. ‘This plan of yours, you’re thinking of doing it tonight, right?’ 

‘Tomorrow,’ I corrected him. 

I passed the walkie talkies around one by one, savouring the warm brush of skin as I placed (name’s) in her palm. I could tell from the way she leaned in that she was struggling to keep up with the conversation, and though it was her own fault for not trying hard enough to study Japanese, I still found myself slowing down while talking. 

‘The playing cards,’ I explained, ‘they’re kept in a safe hidden somewhere in the royal suite. Nobody knows the passcode except the current number-one. But because there’s always chance that the number-one could die in a game, the code is also kept in a black envelope. The black envelope is only opened when there’s a new number-one.’ 

Even if we used Arisu to find the location of the safe, we wouldn’t know whether the code was correct or not until the moment itself. I had a few theories about what the code was, but it all depended on Aguni’s reaction during the ceremony. 

‘There’ll be a meeting tomorrow,’ I clarified, ‘and Aguni will open it in front of all the executives.’ 

‘It’s only read by the number-one, right?’ (name) asked.

‘That’s right. But as for the safe itself, Arisu will be the one to infiltrate the royal suite.’ 

Arisu sat forward, resting an elbow on his knees. ‘What about the passcode?’ 

Seeing how invested he was, I smiled. ‘I already have an idea about that. I’ll tell you when you’re in front of the safe.’ 

‘You really are cautious.’ His face twisted into a knowing grin - a little ironic, considering the circumstances. ‘Got it!’ 

And now for the others.

I glanced between the three of them, only (name) flinched and immediately lowered her head like an embarrassed teenager. The movement caught me by surprise, however I paid it no mind. 

‘You three will be on the lookout.’ 

Usagi rolled the walkie talkie in her palm and hissed, ‘It’s too dangerous. If we’re found out, we’ll be killed.’ 

I would’ve said something more, but there was no need. Arisu, the ever-loyal puppy, jumped straight in to defend the plan he knew almost nothing about. 

‘It’s fine Usagi,’ he said, echoing the same words I’d spoken during our rooftop conversation. ‘With Hatter dead, there’s no unity at the Beach. This is the only way.’ 

You only believe that because I told you it was the only way. You really are this gullible. 

Knowing I had Arisu convinced was enough for me. Usagi would never be completely swayed, but that’s just who she was. She was far too loyal to Arisu to abandon him and the plan now. And besides, the militants would deal with her later. 

I broke down everyone’s positions; me watching over the executives during Aguni’s speech, Arisu waiting at the end of the hall before heading inside the royal suite, Usagi standing guard outside, and the other two outside the elevator to the top floor. 

It was straightforward enough, and if any of them were suspicious they didn’t show it. At this point, everyone was so desperate to abandon the Beach, they would try anything. Arisu and Usagi eventually left, whispering between themselves. 

I waited for the Kuina and (name) to join them, except neither made a move. Kuina was combing through her braids and messing up my bed without a care in the world. The latter looked even more nervous than before, as though she had a question she was too embarrassed to ask. Some of the details had likely gotten lost in translation, and part of me enjoyed being able to control how much she understood. Another part hated how reliant she was. 

‘Why don’t I go in the royal suite instead?’ 

A cold tension washed over me, as if the empty void I was so familiar with had suddenly dropped open. That wasn’t what I had expected at all. Kuina’s hand slipped out of her braids, her mouth parting. 

‘No,’ I said firmly. 

‘How come?’ She shifted forward in protest, ‘I want to help.’ 

‘If you want to help, you’ll keep out of the way while Arisu finds the safe.’ 

‘Chishiya.’ Kuina’s stern look reminded me of our earlier exchange. Her language skills may have been less practised than mine, but she was vaguely following along, at least enough to criticise me. 

‘But what if I go in there with him?’ (name) suggested. ‘Two people searching are faster than one.’

Was this because I told her and Kuina to stay together? Silly girl. For someone usually so sharp, she was truly incapable of reading between the lines. 

‘If the executives start heading back,’ I pointed out, ‘you won’t be able to understand the others quickly enough.’ It was the best excuse I could come up with. If only she would take it and be quiet. 

Kuina slid off the bed and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s better this way, believe me. It’ll look more natural if you and I are together instead of just waiting around on our own. We can pretend we’re talking.’ 

(Name) pulled a face at how things had panned out. If she chose to go behind our backs and swap positions with Arisu there was little I could do to stop her, except perhaps cancelling the plan entirely. However that would raise more questions than it answered, and there wouldn’t be another chance like this. 

Leaving no room for debate, I tried to explain to her that Arisu would be better for the job, but with Kuina’s gentle insistence, she gave up pestering me about it and finally accepted her place in the plan.

‘Fine, fine.’ She raised her hands in mock surrender and stood up wearily. ‘You guys win. I just… I don’t know. I’m kind of tired. I’ll see you both tomorrow, okay?’ 

Hearing those words did little to relieve the unease I was feeling. Kuina’s smile was too fake, and once the door had closed and (name) was out of earshot, I reminded her, ‘You shouldn’t make it too obvious. If she knows about Arisu, she’ll get in the way.’ 

She slid into the chair where Arisu had been sitting, and rubbed her fingers against her temple. ‘This is a nightmare.’ 

A funny choice of words. 

‘We’re in a parallel world playing games to survive,’ I said. ‘This isn’t as easy as a nightmare.’ 

‘It’d be easier if you told her the truth.’ 

Kuina’s obsession was starting to get repetitive, and I was already bored of it. I got to my feet and pulled my hood over my head. The movement seemed to catch her attention, her head snapping up as I walked towards the door. 

‘Hey,’ she called, ‘where are you going?’ 

Fishing my headphones out of my pockets, I considered dropping by a certain room, but after remembering the way she recoiled when I looked at her, I decided better of it. ‘Somewhere where I can get some quiet. Tomorrow, you should go to her room before we start. There’s a chance she could offer to trade places with him.’ 

Kuina started to object, but I didn’t care enough to listen. Her voice silenced as the door closed behind me. In times like this, when my head was crowded and the hollowness was clawing at my mind, all I craved was the silence of the roof. 

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

As the story went, Hatter had died purely in his game, despite how his body had never been cleaned up, nor the way it had been dumped without a care in the river. And now, the numbers had been re-shuffled, making Aguni the new number-one. At least, that’s what they intended to tell the residents. However, Aguni wasn’t officially number-one until he opened the black envelope. 

One by one, the executives all filed into the meeting room, Niragi lazily stretched out in the seat across from me, and Last Boss leaning against the wall. The former number-two, Kuzuryu, was calm as usual, resting his laced fingers in front of him. He shared a look with Mira who only grinned in return, a little too interested in the ceremony. 

My focus, however, was on the man at the head of the table. 

From the corner of my eye, Aguni drew the envelope closer and pried open the bright red seal. Then he paused. 

Well, isn’t this interesting? 

There was a slight delay where his expression froze, taken aback by the paper before him. His brows drew together, then all at once, as if it had never happened, he folded up the sheet and slid it into the envelope once more. 

Aguni wasn’t a man caught off guard so easily. Whatever he’d seen on the paper was the opposite of what he’d expected. Either the code was more complex than just a set of numbers, or the page contained something different entirely. It was when Aguni took Hatter’s ring and stamped it across the hot wax seal that everything suddenly clicked. 

The wax hardened, leaving behind a mirrored embossing of the word “BOSS”. A mirrored embossing that resembled a set of numbers. 

Hatter really was a paranoid man. 

The passcode was 8022. 

[astarryon]

Tame Your Demons

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence, blood mention, implied assault, language, general criminal minds things

Summary: The deal you have with Spencer is simple. You call him to take care of the men looking to take advantage of innocents on the street, and he comes to ensure you don’t kill them before he gets the chance. Unfortunately for the both of you, though, things don’t always go according to plan.

A/N: This is my latest love letter to Spencer Reid and Criminal Minds! Part Two will be posted a little later this week, and will be for a slightly more mature audience, if y’all catch my drift. A big thank you to @reids-trauma​ for letting me run this fic by her, she’s literally half the reason it even saw the light of day. Enjoy!

Masterlist

––

You see him before he sees you.

It doesn’t hurt your feelings— it’s the norm, in any case, and it’s what typically happens each time you reach out to plan a rendezvous. Part of the agreement is that you get to set the location, and you’re always careful to pick places you’re comfortable enough to slip your way out of unnoticed in case he ever morals up and brings his team to corner you. To his credit, that hasn’t happened yet — though you’re not naive enough to give up on the idea that it ever will just yet — but never subscribing to uncertain chances was a lesson you’d learned a long time ago.

But you know you’re safe for tonight, at least. He wouldn’t be meandering around the bar for such a prolonged amount of time searching for you if there were rows of feds waiting to take you into custody as soon as you stepped foot out the door. It takes a full fifteen seconds before his wandering gaze finally touches on you, another three before the glint of recognition appears in his eyes, and by the time he’s straightening his spine and striding purposefully toward you, it’s been an entire minute. Damn. Someone was really starting to lose their touch.

“You’re late, Doc,” you simper, arching a brow as you knock back a hearty sip from your glass. “Didn’t your mommy ever tell you it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?”

“Couldn’t be helped,” Reid huffs, crossing his arms over one another as he tries — and fails — to sidle up to you in a casual manner. You note the way he avoids touching the bar at all costs, how he folds in on himself like an exceptionally uncomfortable piece of origami. And then, of course, there’s the suit, far too dressy for a place so casual as the lively little bar nestled in the far side of downtown Georgetown. Jesus, the only way he would look like even more of an off the clock fed would be if his badge were superglued to his palm. “Getting away from the others without raising suspicion on such short notice isn’t exactly the easiest thing to pull off.”

“Yeah, well,” you chuckle, taking another sip from your glass. You make eyes at him, pointedly and conspicuously allowing your gaze to rake his lanky, suit clad frame head to toe. He looks good in the outfit he’s picked, the dark black of his jacket drawing the eye to the maroon button down he wore beneath it, and you marvel at the way his chosen color palette sets off his skin in the dim light. If Reid notices your staring or cares, he makes no show of it. Your ogling doesn’t bother him, not like it used to — doesn’t even make him blush, to your admitted dismay, though you suppose that makes sense. Spencer Reid is nothing like the sweet, shy boy he used to be. He’s not so wide eyed and naive anymore, though you’d never expected that to last very long in the first place. Still — getting a rise out of him had always been your favorite part of your arrangement. If you don’t get to keep that going, these meetings are about to become significantly less fun. “That’s the deal, isn’t it? When I call, you come running.”

“That’s the deal,” he mutters, nonchalantly waving off the approaching bartender. “And I came running. So who is it?”

You jut your lip out into a pout, resting your elbows atop the bar before settling your chin against your palms, sparing only a moment’s thought for how low the neckline of your dress must be dipping with the switch in position before casting the worry out of your mind. Were any other man your company tonight, you might have felt more concern for your modesty, but Spencer Reid was far from being anything like most men, and, honestly, the day you caught him checking you out was the day you mentally marked another tally on your side of the metaphorical score board. “Why’s it always straight to business with you?”

“Because—“

“No ‘hello’,” you go on, skirt riding further up your thigh as you cross your legs over each other. Not even a spare glance. Damn. “No ‘how are you,’ no admission of your undying love for me. If you’re not careful, Spencer, you’re going to start hurting my feelings.”

“No offense,” Spencer retorts, sounding particularly unconcerned with whether his words actually offend you or not, “but your feelings aren’t exactly my top priority right now. Arresting whoever this man is before you take it upon yourself to brutalize him is.”

“Well he’d deserve it, if I did,” you tell him matter of factly, swirling the contents of your glass as you pretend to be more interested in that than the eye-catching man just beside you. “This one likes to take advantage of young girls in clubs who accept drinks from strangers because they don’t know any better and still think there are nice people left in the world. Sometimes he keeps track, like it’s a game, and tries to see how many he can assault in a night, and this most recent time three of them made it home all right, but the fourth one turned up in a dumpster. So, yeah, Spencer, you’ll have to forgive me for figuring that if he ends up in a back alley with a couple of bruises and a broken leg he probably got what was coming to him, but don’t insult me by implying that I don’t know how to keep a promise.”

“If broken legs and bruises were all you left men with it wouldn’t be such a problem,” comes Spencer’s dry remark. “Unfortunately for the both of us, you seem to have a particular affinity for leaving men in comas.”

An affinity with which Spencer was all too familiar, you knew — not because he’d fallen victim to your habit of enacting revenge for all those poor defenseless victims, but because he’d caught you in the act with someone else. Two years later and you still weren’t positive how he’d managed to track you down. Spencer had told you minimal things — that an acquaintance on the city’s police force had reached out for his advice on a mysterious case of incapacitated men turning up in dark alleys, rarely little more than a few minutes away from going brain dead. That he’d been surprised to realize you profiled as female, considering the amount of unadulterated rage your behavior presented. That he’d made the decision to do what he could to keep from turning you in provided you help him be able to do so with a clean conscience before he’d even found you standing over some man with a white-knuckled grip on a tire iron.

“Give me your word that you’ll contact me first,” he’d instructed, a shockingly small amount of hesitancy glinting in his irises. “Give me your word that from the moment you call me, I have twenty four hours to find you so I can take care of all those awful men the right way. If I don’t make it in that time frame, they’re fair game, but if I find out that you laid a finger on them before you called me, I’ll personally see to it that you do time for every single man you’ve hospitalized. Can you agree to that?”

And you had. Partly because you had no interest in spending any prolonged amount of time behind bars, and partly because the odd sense of emotional recognition he’d gazed upon you with had been so unlike anything you’d ever been met with from another human being that you were essentially startled into instant complacency.

“He’s in the bathroom,” you sigh, downing the rest of your drink and flagging the bartender down for another. More for show than anything else, though you know the theatrics aren’t strictly necessary. Your drink of choice while out with company is much more coke than it is rum, and after two years there isn’t any doubt in your mind that Spencer is aware of that. “Has been for a while now, as a matter of fact, because he’s pompous and arrogant and wants to make sure the bait is set right for the barely legal girl he’s meeting here tonight.”

“Don’t suppose you want to share with the class the barely legal method you used to figure that one out?” Spencer deadpans, plucking your new drink from the bar and draining a few healthy sips before you even have the chance to reach for it. That’s something he’s never done before, though you suppose his repulsion to germs wouldn’t factor in one way or the other since the drink was fresh. But Spencer never indulged in alcohol around you, and was always incredibly careful to keep his guard up during these meetings. Either he was playing a different angle tonight, or something in him had drastically shifted.

“Only if you want to share with the class why I’ve been tailing this guy for two and a half weeks while you dodged my phone calls,” you retort, never breaking eye contact as you grab the glass and tilt the rim to your mouth, in just the same place that Spencer’s had been. You think you see a vein in his neck pulse as you swallow, but you can’t be sure whether the lights are playing tricks on you, so you decide not to count it. “Not like you to leave an innocent man’s life in my hands.”

Spencer arches a brow, eyes narrowing as he searches your face for something you’re not sure about. “Not like you to wait to hear back from me before doing anything about it.” He pauses, then, and more to himself than to you mutters, “And I’ve never said they were innocent.”

“Guess you’re right,” you mutter, shrugging a shoulder and leaning back in your chair as you let your eyes scan around the restaurant. The man you’re looking for is still nowhere to be found, and with the way your nerves are beginning to fray beneath Spencer’s all too calm and collected scrutiny, it’s hard to get ahold of your imagination as it barrels toward the worst case. “He’s still not back.”

“He’s probably still in the bathroom,” Spencer offers, giving an unconcerned shrug of his own. “You said he was a primper.”

“It’s been almost twenty minutes,” you shoot back, fixing him with a harsh stare. Normally you’d bother to be a bit more vivacious when speaking to Spencer, even in spite of your own irritation, but the sinking feeling in your stomach is making it impossible to pay attention to niceties. “That’s never happened before. Something’s wrong.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” But even to you Spencer’s words sound hesitant, like he’s trying to convince rather than tell, and somehow his lack of confidence only serves to make your throat that much thicker. “He couldn’t have left already, you would’ve seen him.”

Yeah, you would have — provided you hadn’t allowed every ounce of your attention to be monopolized by Spencer. You’d been so preoccupied with trying to appeal to his attention, so hung up on matching him wit for wit and taunting and tempting him with bared flesh and sultry gazes that, truthfully, anything could have escaped your notice in the last couple of minutes. Anything. And if some poor girl ended up preyed upon, if she ended up beaten or assaulted or worse, it wouldn’t be as simple as blaming the monster taking advantage of her. You wouldn’t even be able to blame Spencer for distracting you. No— the only person you’d have to blame would be yourself.

“He’s gone,” you breathe, horror a jagged knife twisting in your stomach. Your hands shake so badly that Spencer has to uncurl your fingers from around your glass so he can set it gently down for you. “God, he’s— I let him get away. He’s gone.”

“Don’t work yourself up,” Spencer insists, and if you weren’t sure your panic was playing tricks on you, you’d have sworn you saw his hand reach out to comfort you, just as you saw apprehension tensing his expression. Of course the one thing it took to get a reaction out of him would be unbridled panic. “Listen to me, everything is fine.”

“Not for whatever girl he decided he liked enough to blow off his date for!” you hiss, and it’s a strain to keep your volume low enough not to attract the attention of any other patrons, but you manage. “We need to— Spencer, we have to stop him! He’s going to hurt somebody!”

“Okay,” Spencer tries to calm you, quickly moving to his feet. You can’t get a read on the way he’s looking at you, can’t tell if he’s taking you seriously or trying to decide if he should make a phone call to he nearest psychiatrist, but he seems to be picking up on the urgency of the situation, so you make the choice to let it go. “Let me go check the bathroom to see if he’s still here. If he’s not there, then we can start worrying.” He turns, taking three steps towards the bathroom before spinning on his heel and coming back to say, “Just— stay here, okay? Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

And as you watch his back as he makes the trek towards the restroom, you think about doing what he tells you to. Truly, you do. Spencer could walk into that bathroom and find the man you’d been planning to turn over to his custody and come back with him in handcuffs, unable to help leveling a handsome smirk at you by way of a silent I told you so. You could be panicking for nothing.

But… if there was even the slightest chance that someone innocent could be in the worst kind of danger, was it really worth leaving their fate up to a coin toss?

You’re on your feet as soon as Spencer’s out of sight, beelining for the exit and dodging between other patrons until your legs have carried you out the door and immediately to the dimly lit corner of the block, lined with the closed shops and darkened alleys the man you were after would need to get away with the unspeakable acts he planned to commit. Even as you book it to stop what you know in your gut to be happening, you can’t help but to hope that Spencer had been right. Things would certainly be easier to stomach, were that the case.

But, as you’d somehow known with sickening clarity, the closer you draw to the dark alley gaping between the buildings down the street, the more prominent sounds of a struggle become. You heard a man’s voice — deep and angry and enough to set your hands shaking and your mind blazing with fury — and then, beneath that, the muffled, whimpered cries of a young woman, the sounds of which were so pitiful that you didn’t need to have laid an eye on her to know that she was already sobbing. After that, all thoughts of Spencer effectively flew out the window. Suddenly all there was in your mind’s eye was you, some poor innocent girl having the worst night of her life, and what you were going to do to ensure that nothing bad befell her or any other girl ever again.

“Hey!” you screech, running head first into the alley. “Get the fuck off of her!”

There isn’t any time to survey your surroundings, to take stock of the fact that the man you’d known would be out here was in the process of brutalizing a young woman — one who looked to be barely more than a teen, to your unadulterated horror — nor was there time to really assess what you were barreling toward. All you knew was that your body moved of its own volition, and it was much too late to think things through once you’d collided so forcefully with the assailant that you’d knocked him bodily to the ground. It was too late to second guess yourself now, to wonder whether it wouldn’t be smarter to wait for Spencer, who could actually, legally take care of this guy. The only thing that mattered now was getting justice for everyone who had been too incapacitated to stand up for themselves.

“What the fuck?” the man hisses from beneath you, but you’re already whipping around to get a look at the frightened girl staring down at you. Her eyes are rimmed red, tears trailing down her cheeks, and to your morbid relief, you note that she appears to have no more than an expression of horror on her face.

You’d made it in time, then. By the grace of some higher power, you’d made it in time.

“There’s an FBI agent in the bar down the street,” you bark at her, struggling against the brute strength of the man you were trying — and failing — to keep pinned down. “His name is Spencer Reid. Find him.”

And that was all you had to say before she was running off down the alley and out of sight, the mercy of her safety striking such a psychological chord that you were just distracted enough for the man beneath you to throw a punch that successfully manages to clip you on the jaw, causing stars to swim in your vision as a result.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he hisses, quickly pushing himself to his feet and leering over you with a sneer. It made sense that he was under the impression that he had the upper hand— were you anyone else, he likely would have, and you’d have been little more to him than a replacement for the target you’d just saved.

But you weren’t anyone else. You weren’t helpless, or defenseless, and you certainly weren’t about to let this lowlife get away with all of the things he thought he was. No — you were someone hellbent on making a lasting difference in the world, and if that had to start with this guy getting his head bashed in, then so be it. You were down a tire iron, but your rage was weapon enough.

You wait until he grabs at your shoulder, waiting for just the right moment as he fully extends his elbow before punching as hard as you can against it in the opposite direction, not pausing to hear the sickening crunch of his bone snapping before rolling to the side, jumping to your feet, and subsequently kicking out his knee with a high heel clad foot. His howls of pain are equivalent to music in your ears, but you don’t pause to revel in the sound before you continue on with enacting your justified persecution. In this moment, you aren’t yourself. You’re not sure who you are, as a matter of fact, but you know it isn’t someone willing to let this lowlife get away with the mass amounts of pain and terror he’s inflicted on so many innocents.

“You like that, baby?” you snarl, letting your foot fly against his unprotected ribcage over and over again between sentences. “Does that feel good? Hmm?”

“You—“ The man cuts himself off with a hacked cough, spluttering and moaning as blood trickles down his chin. You’re not sure if that’s because you’ve kicked him in the face without noticing or because you’ve done enough damage to have already caused internal bleeding, but you’re not overly focused on figuring it out. “You psychotic— bitch,” he spits, and the hatred he gazes up at you with is so potent that you can’t help the wicked grin that curls across your mouth in response.

“That’s right,” you murmur, hovering your foot over the center of his chest for just a moment before digging your heel into his sternum. The harder you press, the louder he roars, and the louder he roars, the more you’re inclined to ensure that his screams continue. It’s a vicious cycle, but one you’re much too fond of to let go. “I’m a crazy, psychotic bitch because I’m a woman who stands up for herself and other women, and because I won’t let shitbags like you take advantage of us. Do you even know how old that girl was?”

His face contorts in pain, hands flying to your ankle in an attempt to pry your foot off his chest, but with one arm out of commission and pain proving to be too much of a distraction, he doesn’t manage to make any significant progress in alleviating your attacks. “Fuck you,” he hisses, but even to your ears, the vulgar words sound weak and reedy.

“I’m sure you’d like to,” you shoot back, digging your heel in that much further. You wait until you see tears welling in the corners of his eyes before letting any of the pressure up, and when you’re sure he’s hurting too badly to try and pull a fast one on you, you step off his chest and kneel to the ground, straddling his torso before your hands snake up to form a necklace at his throat. “You’re not used to girls fighting back, are you? You’re not used to anyone putting up a fight, and because of that you think you can just take whatever you want. Is that right?”

His eyes bulge out of their sockets as you begin to squeeze, hissed obscenities caught in his throat with nowhere to go, and the more he claws at the manacles your hands form, the tighter you let your grip become. It’s power, what you feel as you reconcile with the fact that you’re now quite literally holding this man’s life in your hands, and for a moment, you forget everything else. That you were only in this situation because you’d set out to save someone, that you’d sent that very same someone to go and fetch Spencer to come resolve all of this, that you weren’t an angel of death enacting revenge upon those who rightfully deserved what was coming to them. All those things washed away in the night, in just the same way as the beginning rainfall washed the man’s blood onto the ground in runny pink ribbons. It was only you and him, now. Nothing else mattered.

“You know, it’s men like you,” you snarl, squeezing so tightly against his throat that your knuckles go white and your fingers stiff, “that make people afraid to walk home alone at night. To send their kids off to college, to let their little ones grow up and experience the world. Because there are always— always monsters like you just waiting to take advantage of us. And no one’s ever made you pay for that, before, have they? That’s why you’re still so cocky, and confident enough to pull this shit out in the open because you know you’ll get away with it.”

Distantly, in the back of your mind, you think you hear someone calling your name. It’s hard to say for certain; with how focused you are on enacting revenge, on making sure this lowlife feels every single ounce of pain he’s ever managed to inflict on another unsuspecting human, your senses aren’t left with much more of an attention span. Even if they had been, you wouldn’t have bothered using it. Your fury, burning your nerves like hellfire, proves such a strong beacon of desire that you have no choice but to indulge. It feels good, the way his breath catches beneath where the heel of your palm digs into his throat, and you can tell by the way his eyes are beginning to cloud that if you keep it up, if you press just a little harder, squeeze just a little more—

Warm, strong arms snake around your middle, forming an inescapable cage of iron trying to pry you off the man beneath you, and the primal snarl that rips from your throat in response is a clear threat, but it does nothing to deter them. Hyperfixated as you are on finishing the job and ensuring that the man on the ground never lives to breathe another day, you don’t have the attention to spare, but your subconscious takes in the sharp scent of cloves filling your nostrils, the soft brush of curls against your shoulder, the domineering grip shackling your wrist maintaining a surprising air of gentleness. Your name is hurriedly whispered into your ear once, twice, three times, and by the fourth round you realize they’re not whispers at all — they’re shouts.

“Let go of him,” Spencer barks, bruising your ribs with how harshly he yanks you backwards. “Listen to me, listen to me. Let go of him.”

“Get off me!” you hiss in pain, stars dancing across your vision as you feel a slight bend in one of your bones, throwing an elbow back in retaliation. It lands square on his chest, and though the resulting grunt of pain he gives is certainly satisfying, it isn’t worth the grip you lose on the man’s neck. Once you’re down by one hand, it isn’t at all difficult for Spencer to wrench the second one back, and before you know it you’re a good ten feet down the alley, kicking and screaming wildly against Spencer’s grip as the monster you’d nearly strangled to death sputtered his way back to life.

“Calm down,” Spencer snaps, voice deep and low in your ear as he adjusts his grip around your torso so that you’re more fully pressed agains his body. “You need to breathe, do you hear me? Snap out of it. She’s okay. You got here in time and she’s okay. She’s safe, and you’re safe. Calm down. Calm down.”

You want to tell Spencer that he’s wrong. That you can’t be safe, that no one can be, so long as the man groaning on the ground across the alley is allowed to keep breathing. That this man can’t be allowed to live another day, waiting for the next opportunity to take advantage of an unsuspecting stranger who didn’t know any better. That it would be better to put him down now than to wait around for him to fuck up all over again, to ruin someone else’s life.

So you do.

Or, you try to. But all that manages to leave your mouth is little more than bent sobs and broken screams.

“It’s okay,” Spencer goes on, “it’s alright. Everything’s alright.” He uses the grip he’s got on your arm to spin you around, muffling your sobs as he brings your head against his chest and keeps it there with a gentle hand rested against the back of your head. Your body’s shaking so badly against his that, with your eyes still closed, you’re certain you’re still struggling to free yourself from his grip. It isn’t until you feel your fingers — numb with cold and shock and adrenaline — curl into his jacket that you realize you’re holding onto him for dear life. “Just breathe. Just breathe. You’re okay.”

“He was going to—“ You cut yourself off with a choked sob, shaking your head profusely. “He was going to—“

“I know,” Spencer murmurs, “I know. You don’t have to explain, just breathe.”

You hate this — that he’s caught you in such a vulnerable position, that he’s bearing witness to the rapid decline of your mental state. You hate that this is what it took to finally get him to wrap his arms around you, to offer words of reassurance and certainty rather than fixing you with unimpressed looks and exasperated eye rolls. Most of all, though, you hate that he’s now seen you at your worst, and that, going forward, he’ll never quite be able to dissociate you from the monster you truly are.

You don’t know how long he holds you there, murmuring insistent reassurances into your ear as he holds you gently to his chest. For how at odds it is with every other interaction you’d had with him — those ones where he’d roll his eyes, wave you off, regard you as little more than a vapid, spoiled brat who was all too used to getting her way — it’s nearly impossible to reconcile how you’d grown used to being treated with how you were being treated now. And though it’s certainly the last thing your mind should be focussing on, though you really don’t have the mental capacity required to work through this on top of everything else, you can’t help but come to the realization that you’re actually quite fond of the change.

A voice from across the alley cuts through the careful atmosphere of misguided comfort Spencer has crafted for you, and though he won’t let you turn around — actually goes so far as to squeeze his arms more tightly around your middle so that you can’t — the very sound of the man’s voice sends you dangerously close to the edge of the precipice all over again. “Are you… the fed that bitch was talking about?” His voice is hoarse, and half his words come out in broken hacks. It’s childish in the most juvenile of ways, but you can’t help the twinge of satisfaction that sparks to life in your blood. “Arrest her! She tried to kill me!”

“Actually,” Spencer mutters darkly in response, “from where I’m standing and from what that high school senior told me, she was only trying to stop you from committing assault. If anyone here is getting arrested tonight, it’s you.”

“Are you— are you fucking serious?” The blatant shock shooting his cracked voice up two octaves might have been funny, were the situation that led to it not so horribly severe. “She broke my fucking leg!”

“Thing is,” Spencer shoots back, never even missing a beat, “they do a lot worse to rapists in prison. I’d know— I’ve seen it.” The way his voice drops as the words tumble from his mouth catches your attention, but you don’t have the time to properly contemplate asking why before he’s going on. “You ask me, she went a little too easy on you. Remember that when you finally get what’s coming to you.”

And then Spencer’s calmly leading you away, maintaining a gentle yet firm grip on your waist to keep you from trying to look back. Even if you could, you don’t imagine you’d be much inclined to. You have no remorse for what you’d nearly done, and, truthfully, you’d left men in far worse states in the past. You know that; Spencer does, too. Yet, even in spite of that, even in spite of the fact that this was the second night he’d born witness to you attempting to kill a man, his touch on your body remains soft, and he curls over you like a protective blanket.

“We can’t just leave him,” you find the strength to whisper once you’ve put a healthy amount of distance between you and the alley’s opening. The street lights grow brighter the closer the two of you get to the bar, and you’d never admit it out loud, but it makes you feel that much safer. “He’ll get away. You need to… you need to go back.”

“I called the police as soon as I went to go check the bathroom,” Spencer tells you, leading you back into the safety of the bar. Suddenly surrounded by the sounds of raucous laughter and joyful whoops, it’s almost easy to forget what just occurred outside — almost. “They were on standby in case anything went wrong, but I had them hang back until I could get you out of there safely. They’re probably in the middle of cuffing him now.”

“And the girl?” you ask, so dazed that you don’t even protest or make any sort of snappy remark as Spencer gently helps you into a secluded corner booth. “She’s... you made sure she got home safe?”

“I called her a taxi and gave her my phone number,” Spencer answers, fixing you with as reassuring a stare as he can manage. “She’s going to give me a call in the morning about pressing charges. She was scared and a little banged up, but he didn’t... nothing happened. You stopped it before it could.”

You’re too weak to do anything with the knowledge but nod and sink down to the table, protectively covering your head with your arms as you squeeze your eyes shut and try to breathe. Dark thoughts, thoughts twisted in rage and a deeply intense need to protect, continue swirling through your mind, and if you’d thought catching your breath was impossible before, it’s effectively become something of an Olympic sport now, though the reasoning for why effectively evades your understanding. What you’d been through tonight, what you’d been ready to do to that man — if he could even be called a man — isn’t anything that’s never happened before. Hell, scum like that were the very reason you’d gotten caught up with Spencer in the first place.

But… something’s different now. You can tell by the way the oxygen rattles through your lungs, the way you can’t still your shaking fingers as they clatter against the tabletop. You don’t know what it is, where it’s come from, or how to stop it, but it’s there, and you can feel it.

Fingers softly brush up against one of your wrists, startling you so forcefully from your reverie that you can’t help the cry of shock that drops from your mouth as you yank your arm back with as much urgency as if you’d been burned. Seconds pass, then ten, then thirty, and even as your subconscious mind works double time to interpret the concerned light in Spencer’s eyes in response to his touch, you remain unable to fully come back to the present.

“You need to eat something,” he tells you, casting his eyes back down to the table. It’s a testament to how much time has passed that there are now two glasses of water covered in condensation that, up until this point, you’d not even been aware were present. “It’ll help with the shock.”

“I’m not going into shock,” you mutter, squeezing your hands together and resting them in front of you. Spencer catches sight, but if he has something to say about it he keeps it to himself. “And I’m not hungry. I just want to go home.”

“And I’ll take you there,” Spencer responds, metaphorically digging his feet in. “But you need to eat something first. And drink water.”

You roll your eyes, shakily moving to stand. “I’m not—“

“Sit down.” The hard glint in his eyes, sharp and metallic as a knife, makes it clear that he isn’t asking, and against your stubborn will, you immediately do as he commands. You want to think it’s simply because you’re too tired to fight back rather than too frightened or intimidated, but then, you can’t quite be sure. At least, not until Spencer leans across the table, insistently holding your gaze in something that you think might be a warning, and it’s only now that you realize he’s been holding back his frustration in favor of seeing to your needs, just as his composure begins to slip. “I told you to wait for me at the bar.”

“Yeah, you did,” you respond with a halfhearted roll of your eyes. “You should have known better.”

“No,” Spencer shoots back, “you should have listened to me. Instead you went and broke your word, all because you had something to prove to yourself.”

You can’t help but scoff in disbelief at Spencer’s implication, momentarily startled into genuine speechlessness. Those words hurt — so much so that you really weren’t inclined to admit that they did, lest Spencer think he have more power over you than you were actually willing to give him. So instead, you pushed back the hurt and leaned into the rage. It wasn’t healthy by any means, but at this point, you’d try just about anything to cut through the debilitating numbness medicating your senses at the moment.

“I didn’t break shit!” you hiss, repressing the urge to scream. “And if you really think I did what I did because I was thinking of myself, then you’re just as bad— no, scratch that, you’re… you’re even fucking worse than the rest of them!”

And you expect Spencer to launch some scathingly cruel insult back at you, one that cuts you deeper than you’d ever known words could be capable of, because Spencer’s a genius, after all, and he’s kept up with you enough over the years that he knows how to make an insult hurt if he wants it to. To your admitted surprise, though, he doesn’t open his mouth and hurl knives your way; he doesn’t even look at you like he wants to hurt you, in the way that you’re positive you’re looking at him. Instead, he only blinks down at you, carefully analyzing the expression on your face and the fury in your words before giving you any kind of response. It’s more than you deserve, really.

But Spencer’s soul has always struck you as kind.

“You could have gotten yourself hurt tonight,” he sighs, shaking his head in what you think could be disappointment. “You realize that, don’t you? That what you did was reckless and ridiculously stupid?”

You bark a harsh laugh in response to that, shaking your head as you go on squeezing your hands together. “In case you didn’t notice, I wasn’t the one in danger. Believe me, you didn’t have anything to worry about.”

“You said he’s escalated to killing girls after assaulting them,” Spencer presses, and it’s only as you minutely glance down at the table that you realize he’s curling his hands into fists of his own. “Did you ever stop to think that if he’d managed to overpower you, that could have happened to you too?

“Well it didn’t, did it?” you snap, searching for the power to quell your sudden annoyance. You know it’s misplaced; Spencer’s only doing his best to take care of you, without saying as much in so many words. You should be happier for it; after all, hadn’t you spent years attempting to get Spencer to consider you? To leave lasting impressions on his mind? To sneak your way into his late night, private, personal thoughts? Sure, on the surface it had all been more for show than anything else, but… even if he’d never known the truth, you certainly always did. “I’m fine. Okay? Fine. I’m not going into shock—“

“You’re certainly acting like you are.”

“— I’m not having a panic attack—“

“Again, you could have fooled me.”

“— and I’m not hungry! Okay? I’m not! I just want to go home!”

And it’s lucky that Spencer had the foresight to seat the both of you as far away from the general population of the bar as possible, lest any of the unsuspecting strangers hear the two of you squabbling over something so harrowing, but even if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have cared enough to bother lowering your voice. All of these people, laughing, chatting, obliviously participating in their good times, and all the while an innocent girl had nearly been violated just a few buildings away out on the street. It wouldn’t have been their fault — really, the only person that should have been held accountable was hopefully being dragged to the police station at this very moment — but the fact that life could so casually go on while a child had to suffer the worst night of their life in silence just didn’t sit particularly well in your throat.

You inhale a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut as you brace against the inky misery staining your senses. When you open them again, blinking through the stubborn tears trying to form in the brim of your eyes, you find Spencer carefully considering your face, and all you can do is hope he doesn’t notice the way your lip wobbles.

“I just want to go home,” you say again, hardly managing to get the words out in anything above a whisper. “Please, Spencer, just… I don’t… I can’t be here right now. Please just take me home.”

It’s hard to say what exactly takes the fight out of him. It could be the way you’ve said his name, softly, desperately, pleading in a manor which you’re certain he’s never heard from you before. But then, it could also be the tears welling in your eyes, far more conspicuous a sight than you’d have liked and one Spencer had only ever been confronted with once before. Whatever it is that’s done the trick, it prompts the softening of his gaze, along with the gentle downturn of the curve of his mouth. Just out of the corner of your eye, you think you see his fingers dancing hesitantly over the table top as they steadily migrate closer to yours, and though he doesn’t try to make contact with you this time, he manages to offer you an inexplicable amount of comfort as his fingers dance in a mirror image of the motions of yours.

“Okay,” Spencer concedes, frustration fading out of his expression to allow concern to take the lead. “If that’s what you need, then okay. But— just, put this on, at least.” Before you can interpret his meaning, he’s shrugging out of his jacket and pushing it across the table, and before you can protest, he’s pressing forward stubbornly. “It’s raining outside, you’re shaking, and that dress is gorgeous but it’s not going to stop you from catching hypothermia. Just wear it until we get to the car.”

He’s not leaving you a choice, judging by the glint in his eye that makes it clear he isn’t willing to hear any back talk on the subject. You consider doing so anyway — partly because you’re not sure you’re in the mood to take orders from Spencer, no matter how emotionally distressed you are, and partly because you’re afraid the weight of his jacket on your skin and the scent of his cologne in your nose would be just a bit too intimate for you to handle in this moment — but ultimately, you do as he asks, grabbing at the dark bundle of fabric and wrapping it around yourself like a blanket of protection.

It’s… warm. And it smells good, too. Embarrassing as it is, concentrating on further inhaling the scent of it — of him — is nearly enough to instantly cause your hands to cease their trembling.

“Let’s go,” Spencer murmurs, offering his hand as he stands from the table.

Wordlessly, you take it.

––

Part Two: Something of a Dangerous Game

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH30

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 30: Star Death Reality Show (XIII)

"This place between the back of the head and the neck is very dangerous, it's easy for you to cause a brain hernia and kill the person. I’m telling you, the correct way is to hold her carotid artery—the place on the side of the neck, and she’ll pass in a few seconds, safe and harmless," Dr. Lu, who had committed several occupational malpractices, prattled on.

Qi Leren tried to breathe: "She’s not dead, I controlled my strength."

Dr. Lu raised his head: "When did you learn this? How did you suddenly change your style and go straight to James Bond?"

Qi Leren looked helpless: "It was all forced out."

"Qianbei is very fierce, almost too much! So handsome!" Du Yue, the fanboy, wore the awestruck expression of a hopeless fan and looked at Qi Leren with stars in his eyes. "Can qianbei teach me? I also want to learn!"

"Well, let’s wait... let’s wait until the show is over," Qi Leren said. "Hurry up and find out if there’s anything important in this basement. Hurry up, Mark may come back soon."

The three men were busy again, especially Dr. Lu, who, like a hamster whose hidden melon seeds had been lost after the sawdust was changed, searched anxiously. He plunked his ass on the ground and looked into the gap under the bookcase, and pulled Du Yue to help when he was met with heavy objects that couldn’t be moved.

Qi Leren looked around the basement. It wasn’t like a private laboratory, but rather a utility room, with cabinets and bookcases everywhere and some metal barrels and strewn about tools in the corner. Qi Leren even saw homemade explosives… This former owner was good at playing around.

Since there were explosives, it wasn’t strange that there had been an explosion here, and the scope of the explosion wasn’t small, which had left the basement a mess, with huge blocks of stones around the collapsed passageway. Although it could be seen that someone had cleaned this passage that led to an unknown location, they still can't do anything about the heavy stones.

Had anyone entered this passage? Had He Yi entered the passage, or were He Yi and Mark both in it?

Considering that the audience voted to prove that Mark had knocked out Xue Jiahui, it seemed that Mark probably hadn’t entered it. With such a thought, the situation at that time was that Mark had tried to go against He Yi. He Yi discovered the passage in the attic, entered the basement, and discovered the explosives. He wanted to kill Mark with these, and accidentally discovered that there was a secret passage here, which he used to escape?

"Oh, come and look at this! Is this the legendary ID card?" With a loud shout, Dr. Lu held up a plastic card to show it to the others.

When Qi Leren took the card, he still couldn't understand the words on it, but the metal identification strip embedded in it made it distinct. The plastic casing was also tied with a rope, which seemed to be hung around his neck to prevent it from being lost.

"You can give it a try. Come on, let's go back to Jing Siyu’s house" Qi Leren was also excited.

The three people left Annie knocked out, quickly left the building, and headed for the temporarily unoccupied house of Jing Siyu.

In the basement of Jing Siyu's house, with a "di-" sound, the heavy metal door opened upwards, revealing the dark metal passage inside. The emergency lights along the bottom of the passage’s walls were on, and the miserable green light source made this corridor look like a ghostly hell.

Sure enough, there was electricity inside. But intelligent life on this planet had gone extinct, yet there was still a power supply in this underground place? It was incredible.

Qi Leren stuffed the ID card into his pocket: "Turn off the cameras."

He was worried that there would be some accidents that would make him have to use his skill cards. Although doing so would arouse the suspicion of the audience, it was better than direct exposure.

"I'll go in first and see. Wait here. I'll call you when I get to the other end," Qi Leren said cautiously.

"Be careful, if you’re injured, come back quickly. I’ll curse you to death if you don’t!" Dr. Lu said.

"Qianbei, you can do it! You’re the best!" Du Yue clenched his fists.

Qi Leren felt a little tired. Why were all his little friends so funny? Couldn’t he get better ones?

In the deep and otherworldly green light, Qi Leren took the first step. His footsteps were as light as a prowling cat, and he didn't make a sound. This disturbing color touched his nerves and made him feel that he was in constant danger.

One step, two steps... Qi Leren moved forward, and the uncertainty of stepping on a censor haunted Qi Leren at every moment, making him more alert. He believed in his intuition. He knew he could even accurately sense the threat of flying knives when he was blindfolded, as Chen Baiqi had already confirmed.

And this passage was not safe.

Just when he was thinking about it, his hunch came true!

[Rain-Day Laundry: At present, the remaining sensing times are 2/3.]

Dididididididi— The shrill alarm sounded! Even if the ID card had been used to open the door, Qi Leren, an illegal intruder, was still caught! The metal door behind him slammed shut, cutting off his escape route! Dr. Lu and Du Yue shouted at the door in alarm, and at the end of the metal corridor, dazzling laser beams were generated!

Qi Leren's pupils suddenly contracted. The knee-high red laser beam quickly rushed toward him from the end of the corridor! Qi Leren couldn’t think about it, he could only jump! The timing and height were just right, avoiding this laser beam perfectly. But this was not the end. More laser beams were coming from the end of the corridor!

Calm down, calm down, calm down... I can't fucking calm down! Qi Leren was extremely nervous. He made a save with the Save/Load Data, but he knew that S/L wasn’t a good solution for this situation! After he saved, he would be cut into pieces of meat by the laser beam. After his resurrection, he would still be standing in place, waiting for the next laser beam to cut him again!

Shit, it was a dead end! This C-rank task was poisonous!

Qi Leren, whose brain had gone blank, recalled watching the movie "Resident Evil" with his father when he was a child. The laser corridor that cut a group of special forces into meat had left a deep shadow on his childhood. He remembered that there was an escape hatch above the laser corridor in the movie.

Qi Leren suddenly looked up, and under the green lights, he saw a neat metal ceiling without any cracks.

All those movies are so deceptive... Qi Leren scolded mentally as the four laser beams scattered in front of him approached within five meters, and the alerts from his "Rain-Day Laundry" skill sounded one after another, directly entering the cooldown period. Qi Leren, who was under high tension, broke out again. He got up and ran towards the laser beam—Jump! Over the first laser beam! Roll forward on the spot! Second beam!

The height of the last two laser beams were very tricky, and there was no way to dodge! They were too low to lie flat, and it was too late to jump. Qi Leren, who had already rolled on the ground, couldn't avoid the oncoming pitfalls. Even at this critical juncture, he used the strength of his arms to prop up his body and did a backflip, with his waist folded into a perfect arc.

The two high and low red beams reflected their dazzling deadly light on the metal wall, and the scorching temperature seemed to cut his arm and lower back, leaving burn marks on his skin. But when Qi Leren landed, he discovered that the laser beams were gone, and he had escaped them!

In these five or six seconds, Qi Leren had made a 180 between life and death. If Chen Baiqi was here, she would be shocked. Qi Leren’s blank mind suddenly flashed such a sentence.

The exit was seven or eight meters ahead, and the door there was open. It seemed that the personnel who had set up this trap didn't think anyone could pass through it alive. But before Qi Leren could breathe a sigh of relief, the laser beam at the end of the corridor lit up again. At first, it was the first one, then the second one and the third one... They were woven over the same position, forming a laser net comparable to a fishing net! It was finer than the laser wall placed by the producers outside this village!

No wonder this laser corridor didn't need to have a closed door! Qi Leren couldn't help but admit defeat and decided to run away—Nonsense, his save point was behind him. If he didn't retreat, he would be barbecued by the laser net once in his present position, then resurrected at the save point behind him, and then be chopped up again!

This round was a disaster. He hoped the laser net would disappear after one use. S/L could only restore his body to the position and state where it was saved, but the material world around him wouldn’t be turned back to the state where it had been. Otherwise, it would be too fatalistic... But it was meaningless to complain about this at this time.

Qi Leren sighed, closed his eyes, and forced himself not to think about the pain of dying. The countdown for the save was eleven seconds, ten seconds, nine seconds...

The scorching temperature kissed him on the cheek, and before he could taste the pain carefully, he was resurrected at the save point, and the laser net that destroyed any living creatures in the corridor disappeared.

This time, Qi Leren started to rush forward without hesitation. Hurry up. He didn't know whether there would be a second group of laser nets at the end of the corridor. If there was one, he had to hurry before the laser nets formed, otherwise he would be trapped and would die here, and would die completely after the S/L skill’s three resurrections were consumed!

As he ran to the end of the corridor, less than two meters away from the exit, the first ray of the second laser net appeared, just at the height of his neck. The next moment, the second one, at the position of his knees, and then the next moment...

It was too late. Engaged in a 100-meter sprint, Qi Leren couldn't adjust his body posture and could only run into the laser beams—his head was separated.

The file was read for the second time.

This time, Qi Leren's reaction is faster than the last time. He must run faster than the last time, otherwise, when the beams at the end of the corridor appeared, he would definitely hit them head-on and make a clean break!

Faster, faster... Qi Leren's feet ran like they didn't touch the ground. Under this extreme test of life and death, he ran faster than he had in any training! Because this wasn’t training, it was a test of life and death.

Here we are, we'll be ready soon...

The red laser beams lit up amidst the continuous shrill alarm sound, and the running Qi Leren closed his eyes in despair. The moment before his death was short, but it was long. The laser cut his body, but his brain was still running. He tried his best to think about how to break this stand-off. Every ten seconds, a laser net would appear at the end of the laser corridor and move forward. This laser net didn’t appear only once, otherwise, he could easily use the S/L Data to escape.

Unless he could "break the shell", as Chen Baiqi had said, and break the limits of his body and enter another state, he was destined to draw the line on the end of his life here.

He could only see the glimmer of hope if he tried his best and gave it a go.

He didn't want to die here, no matter what. He still had too many words to say to Ning Zhou, to tell him of the love he had never dared to express and to let the words hidden in his heart overflow. Even if he died, he couldn't close his eyes peacefully.

He couldn’t let Ning Zhou be sad.

The file was read for the third time and final time.

Qi Leren cleared his brain and drove away all his distractions. His body forgot its exhaustion and weakness in the moment that he finished reading the file. His eyes looked directly at the gate leading to heaven ahead, and he rushed there like lightning.

He didn't think about whether it could be done or the consequences of failure. There was a firm belief that made his soul burn at this moment. Willpower poured energy beyond his limits into his limbs. He was as fast as a meteor. In this dark tunnel, the wind sprinted and rushed to the exit!

The first laser beam lit up, and in the next second, more laser lines would be woven into an impassable net at this position, and anyone who tried to cross this barrier would be cut into pieces. The second laser line lit up, but Qi Leren had already rushed to it, jumped up in this extreme sprint, and jumped between the two laser beams. The world was as silent as when he jumped from the boat and his head became submerged beneath the water.

In the moment when he fell heavily to the ground, the alarm came to an abrupt end. Qi Leren didn't realize that he had passed through the corridor. He pushed up from the ground, rolling and crawling, and looked behind him in a panic. The newly formed laser grid sensed that there was no intruder in the corridor and was automatically dissipated and he, who had already pulled off his seat belt, had escaped this nearly inescapable danger.

-----

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[qianoir]

After Midnight 3 - Stars

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: college dropout!Ten (WayV) x fem!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: non-idol au, angst with fluff on top

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 13+

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing (censored), lying, family problems, mentions death of reader's father, romance

♡ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.9K

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @staysstrays

Preview < 1 < 2 < 3

Your head was pounding from your ears drinking in the tantrum of a 3 year old boy, the cries diving straight into your ringing eardrums. A young couple showed up with their child who started offing himself about your café not having some made up hybrid cake he wanted for the last 10 minutes.

The boy started flailing around and knocked his mother's iced Americano out of her hand in the process, landing the freezing and pungent liquid all over you.

The LED clock above you flickered with a new hour, freeing you from the café’s dark roasted chains. You ripped the soaked apron over your head and stuffed it into the back room’s washing machine before taking hold of your belongings and rushing out of the building after saying a quick “good-bye” to your mother- who was not about to deal with the coddled boy and you leaving all at once, so she kicked the spoiled family out, them following your irritated trail on the way through the doors.

You were walking fast to have a little costume change before meeting up with Ten and his friends, 5 o’clock coming within the next 20 minutes.

Y/N

Heyyo I had a little accident at work so I'm going to stop by my place to clean up before heading over to yours.

Once you were in your own space, you peeled the rest of the coffee soaked clothing off of your body, sticking the wet collection into the washer to cold soak after dressing up nicely.

TEN

d.amn it y/n you are too old to be soiling yourself

???

Y/N

That’s not what I meant!

TEN

Whatever ;p

Stepping out into the bright evening air, you realized you don't even know where the hell to go. The napkin with the address was in the pocket of your apron washing back at the café.

You recognized the street that leads to Décalcomanie, the street that leads to Myeongdong, and one leading to a duck shop.

Admitting defeat, you texted Ten.

Y/N

hey so I left the napkin with your address in my apron.. which I don't have would you mind sending it to me?

TEN

such a handful~

You followed the GPS to his address. His apartment building was on the other side of your school you usually metro to, so it was a pretty tiring walk. Arriving fashionably late, you knocked on door number 117.

There was a lot of commotion and screaming, as you were previously informed. Finally, Ten opened the door and waved for you to come in.

Taking your shoes off at the entrance, you saw three guys tackling each other, two others playing video games, and one really fine looking man behind an island in the kitchen.

"Hello!!" One of the guys being tackled shouted and waved at you which got him punched in the back by the guy orchestrating the tackling. You hesitantly waved back "Hi Y/N!!" The boy in the kitchen said with a charming smile.

"Lovely place." You said to Ten with a giggle as he closed the door with an annoyed look on his face. "Y/N, these are my friends,"

He took you over to the couch where the two players were. "This is Sicheng and Xuxi," The two boys playing Mario Kart threw a glance your way and waved with a smile. "these fools are Hendery, Xiaojun, and Yangyang.."

Hendery strained to wave again under the two boys with a big smile on his face, as did the two others. Ten swayed you into the kitchen and introduced you to the last man. This guy was so handsome, like the Asian bachelor. "I'm Kun." The man greeted, kindly.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N. Our Ten always talks about you." Yangyang says walking towards you two. Ten sent him a glare. "Is that so?"

"At least I'm not blind from having my head up my ass all day, Yangyang shut up!" His voice cracked, making you and Yangyang erupt in laughter.

"Anyways, if you'll excuse us- I invited Y/N here for us to be alone." He took your wrist in his grasp and led you to a room.

Ten pet a space on the bed for you to sit down while he leaned over his desk, searching on his laptop. A slow beat filled the room. You recognized this song- the song your dad would play for your mom in the car on long road trips: Something by The Beatles.

Something in the way she moves

attracts me like no other lover

Something in her style that shows me

I don’t want to leave her now

you know I believe and how.

Your parents were so in love. When your father first heard this song, he had made it their special theme to portray their love. They had both become big fans of The Beatles and always had this song pop up at least once in every holiday or event playlist or could be caught quoting it occasionally when the timing was right. Your heart sank in your chest at the memory.

You hadn't realized that the song had ended or that Ten was at your side watching you intently. You looked up at him and he offered a small smile.

"My parents used to listen to this song all the time."

"Really? Are you guys close?"

Your mouth felt sour hearing the inevitable question. “My dad died from pneumonia when I was younger. My mom tries to be present for me, but I know she misses him.” Tears puddled at your waterline as you forced yourself not to cry. “Sometimes I think she only keeps trying because she thinks I’m studying premed when I really hide pointe shoes in my closet. I don’t have the heart to tell her what I’m really majoring in.. because I’m terrified of us losing each other completely and frankly, she would never forgive me of my dishonesty if she would stay.”

"It's not wrong.. following your passion" Ten announced after a whole note of silence, "I'm sorry for making you bring up such a past, but I’m happy I can at least sympathize with you..” He looked away from you to recall his memories clearly.

“My parents didn't agree with me wanting to study dance either. And they certainly did not agree with me leaving my hometown in Thailand and dropping out of college to come here for the best art opportunities. Mine and the rest of the guys outside; all of us are a little more distant from our family than usual just because we are passionate." Ten confessed.

"I'm sorry." You weakly rasped.

"I'm not." Ten smiled at you.

"My friends and I are doing what we love without anyone holding us back and one day it's going to all pay off.. I know it will.. If it wouldn't I would have never dropped out."

You could understand where he was coming from. He is really passionate and faithful to his dreams, it is a little inspiring.

"And you seem to be doing good on your own, too. You're studying dance, which I'm sure you're amazing at, and working at the café to help your mom, letting people make a mess of you that you always undoubtedly pick yourself up from." You laughed, the sad tears rolling down your cheeks and turning to bittersweet tears of joy.

"Thank you, Ten."

"Anytime, Y/N." He handed you a napkin for your eyes.

A cough was heard outside the closed door, along with faint whispers.

"Lucas, shut the HELL up!"

Ten got up and opened the door, making four boys come tumbling inside the room.

All rushing to get up, Lucas stayed laying on the floor, "Uh, hi guys." he offered a charming smile. "We were just coming to tell you that dinner is ready?" Yangyang shrugged obviously.

Ten snickered.

"Nice try, guys-"

"Dinner is ready!" Kun yelled from the kitchen.

"What did I tell you?" Yangyang stuck out his tongue, cockily. Ten rolled his eyes and looked over at you,

"Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Uhm-"

"She is staying, I already made her a plate!" Kun yelled once again from the kitchen. The other boys ran out of the doorway to the kitchen.

"I guess it's settled then..." Ten sighed and reached his hand out to you, which you took. You were led into the dining room where the other boys sat. Ten placed you in a chair next to his and Kun’s.

Kun had made zhajiangmian, a Chinese traditional celebration/comfort food aka Chinese spaghetti. It tasted so much better than the bread pastries and milk teas you had been living off of in the past year.

Everyone was very talkative during dinner, you even found out that Ten choreographs his own dances for himself and the others to perform and learned that Kun has a degree in music from a prestigious university in Beijing. The boys you had dinner with were really fun to be around and gave you lots of energy after the intricate start to the new semester.

You didn't realize how lonely your little apartment was until now, even when sharing it with your mother most nights. They made you feel so comfortable and content after lacking companionship since your high school days. Also the food was really good, thanks to Kun.

Everybody finished their food but still continued the little chat at the dinner table "And this one time, Ten ate butter thinking it was ice cream! Who does that!?" Yangyang finished off his story punching the table with laughter.

You glanced at the time on your phone. It was almost 10 o'clock and you had to get to sleep early for your new 8 AM class.

Ten turned to you when he felt short tugs at his hoodie. "Cinderella has to get home?"

The room got quiet with Ten’s words, but quickly exploded in a swarm of whines and begs for you to stay. You gave them an apologetic smile.

Ten stood up, pulling me with him, "I'll walk you home." He was already at the door, kicking on his shoes. Everyone bid you good-bye as you waved to all of them before you and Ten were out the door.

"It's this way." You motioned in the direction of your apartments. Ten nodded and followed your path. It was silent the whole way, but it was a nice silence. It was peaceful with just you two. Arriving soon, you  stopped in front of the entrance and turned around to look at Ten.

"Thank you for having me over, I really enjoyed it. Your friends are really nice."

"Of course. I’m really glad you came. I like spending time with you and I think my friends do as well."

Smiles were exchanged and hearts skipped, both of your breathing patterns were evident in each other’s dialogue. "Do you have any last lyrics before we end the night?"

Your building never shines like the others in its distance. The only light around you is the one that blooms in space and allows the stars to twinkle down to where you stand. Ten took your chin is his hand and created perfect eye contact:

"Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you. And all the things that you do.”

He tossed your chin up before walking off into the night.

To Be Continued…

Something by The Beatles

Yellow by Coldplay

𝘲𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘳

[mymelodyheart]

All I Want For Christmas Is You Chapter 4 ~Revelations and Snogs~

Previously in A Christmas Request ...

"Claire?"

"Hmmm?" Her voice was like a breathless whisper, and he wasn't sure if he imagined the yearning look in her eyes. It took all his self-control to keep from kissing her right there and then. Instead, he locked down all his muscles and willed himself to think of animals that start with the letter D. And all his damn brain could summon was the word dragonfly.

"May I ask ye a favour?"

"I don't kiss on the first date," she said too quickly, but her words contradicted her manner as she stared at his lips.

"That wasn't what I was gonnae ask ye."

"Oh!" Her eyes flew to his, and she blushed profusely. "Oh, well, that depends on the favour then."

He swallowed hard and leaned forward, taking her hands in his. "Will ye spend the rest of yer holiday with me?" He cleared his throat. "What I'm trying to ask of ye is, will ye stay here until the Three Kings ...until it's time for ye to go back to London?"

She blinked thrice. 

"Alright."

"Alright?" A lungful of air whooshed out of him.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

   Alrighty Beauchamp, what have you just done?

Grabbed life by the balls? Isn't that the mantra?

Nope!

What do you mean nope?

Those are not your words. Not our words.

Yes, they are. You know, live in the moment and la-di-dah!?

Nope, definitely not.

Whose are they then?

Annalise's.

Ah, well ...

Claire mentally shrugged. 

"Sassenach?"

She snapped out of her tunnel vision, then looked at the big hands still holding hers. She was still trying to wrap her head around the idea of agreeing to spend the rest of her holiday with a total stranger. Who are you and what have you done with the ol' Beauchamp? "I'm sorry. I was thinking of Annalise. This is our holiday together, you see. I just agreed to spend the rest of my holiday here without consulting her." She shook her head and laughed despite the conflicting thoughts floating around her head. "I'm quite sure she'll be fine with it. She's the one who's always pushing me to be more spontaneous."

He squeezed her hands. "I'm flattered to be the reason for your spontaneity."

Her face heated. "I've never done this before ...just so you know."

He tried to catch her eye, and when she returned his gaze, he gave her a lop-sided smile. "Neither have I."

Oh, he's so good. Claire blew out a breath and stilled her heart. "That's comforting to know," she said, trying not to look too flustered. Knowing so little about him, she knew she should be wary, but for some reason, she felt safe. Everything about him was brand-new and familiar at the same time. It's as if there had been a melody playing in her head for her entire life, and he'd finally given it words.

"And Analise is welcome to stay too," Jamie quickly reassured her. "Ye said ye're booked at the Airbnb until Boxing day, but I dinnae think there'll be any guarantee ye'll be able to extend yer stay there with it being high season and all. But we have a family cottage that we rent out for the long term, and it was recently vacated. With all the Christmas fuss and work during the past few weeks, we never got around to letting it. Ye and Annalise are welcome to stay there for the rest of yer holiday." And then he grinned. "I'm quite certain my brother would be thrilled with the idea of yer friend staying too."

Claire laughed. "You're probably right. They seemed to have hit it off."

"Ye could say the same for us, don't ye agree?" he asked in a low voice.

She stared at him. How could he looked so calm and collected when she hadn't figured out how to articulate what she was feeling? On top of it all, it seemed he'd perfected the art of persuasion with finesse, so much so, she'd immediately jumped at his invitation to stay in Broch Mordha without a second thought, surprising herself. When it came to the dating game, she would have equated over-confidence to smugness which as a rule turned her immensely off. But there's a sincerity to Jamie's flirting that she found all too endearing and very charming.

She searched his face. Ready or not, she was curious to explore the unfamiliar emotions this beautiful man was drawing out of her. In her history of dating, no man had ever moved her to make her take the leap of faith. Deep down, something always seemed to be missing, and she'd simply put it down to her inability to know what she wanted. To say her hope of finding herself in a romantic relationship had taken a hit would be an understatement.

When her last date had ended in a blaze of abject embarrassment after she was accused of being a cock-tease, she'd decided she was done with men, at least for the foreseeable future. She had a concrete five-year plan, and getting involved with someone when her heart wasn't a hundred per cent into it, wasn't one of them. Annalise continued to hassle her to dive back in into the dating pool head first, but she'd been content to wade in the shallow end. It may have been frustrating to never take the plunge, but at least, there was a nil chance of her drowning in a sea of mistake. But now?

"Baby steps," she whispered.

"Sorry ...I didn't quite catch that."

She pulled her hands from his hold and drank the rest of her already cold Dutch coffee. When she finally placed the mug down, she looked up and smiled at him. "That rental cottage you were talking about, can I at least give you some money for it?"

He shook his head. "No way. In case ye've forgotten, I invited ye to stay."

"But you've been paying for everything all evening. Hardly seems fair."

"Spending my hard-earned quid for the pleasure of a gorgeous lass' company? Every penny spent is worth it if ye ask me." 

When he talked like that, she knew her blush wasn't going to fade anytime soon. "Annalise will disapprove, and I'm pretty sure she will want to have her say in the matter."

"And so will Willie."

"Are you always this stubborn?" she countered.

"Only if I want something badly."

They have a stare-off for a few heartbeats before Jamie tore his gaze away and cleared his throat. 

He glanced down at his watch. "So, the last horse carriage ride around the village is in about twenty minutes. We should probably get going." 

"Horse carriage ride?"

"Aye. Part of the Christmas night tour." He got up from his seat and gallantly offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

It's so old-fashioned and chivalrous, she laughed out loud. "Well, I guess we shall." As soon as she linked her hand into the crook of his elbow, he sucked in a quick breath. "Are you alright?"

He looked down at her hand on his arm and smiled. "Aye. I'm just concerned I might have trouble adhering to yer nae-kiss-on-first-date rule."

They headed out of the cafe and into the frosty air, and she was acutely aware of the low voltage electricity buzzing around them. "Would it help if I put my retainers on? I have them in my bag. I usually put them on at night."

"No, not really. I just have to remind myself of the promise I made to Annalise before we left the pub earlier."

"What promise was that?"

"I promised her I'd behave otherwise ..."

"Otherwise?"

"I have to face the consequences."

She laughed. She knew Annalise's threat so well and by heart as the same lines had been often used to warn her dates in the past. "Well, let me see ...did she say if you misbehave she's going to show you the end of the world up close. And she's going to let you see the kingdom come with your own eyes by sending you straight to the southern hemisphere and letting the ashes of death rain all over you."

He grinned at her. "Something like that. How she's going to achieve that, I have nae idea."

"Never mind how. If you keep on focusing on Annalise's threat, that should be deterrent enough."

He gave her a sceptical shrug. "If ye say so." And then he looked down at her and winked. "But then again, ye're worth tempting fate for."

..........

Claire found herself being hoisted into a festively decorated horse-drawn carriage with twinkling garlands, gold & white berries. To her amusement, even the shire horses were wearing faux antlers. As she sat down, she felt their buggy dipped low as Jamie followed and settled next to her, putting the gift bags on the floor and pulling the woollen blanket over them. As their transport rumbled and creaked into motion, he put an arm behind her, resting it the edge of their seat's backrest, leaving her no alternative but to lean against the curve of his body. His closeness and the motion of their carriage added another layer of tension to her already overworked adrenal glands.

"Comfy?" he whispered, leaning into her, his warm breath on her ear.

"Uh-huh," she managed, licking her lips that had gone suddenly dry. It was a challenging feat to ignore Jamie's presence when his sheer size encroached her space, his thigh brushing against hers and the motion of the ride, sinking her deeper under his arm.

She forced herself to focus on the sounds of the hooves and bells, and admire the trees wrapped in lights, wreaths adorning almost every window, and Santas or nutcrackers standing guard outside front doors. For once, Jamie didn't speak, and she allowed herself to relax, revelling the clean, crisp air of the Highlands. Although Broch Mordha was nothing like London, quieter and had a slower pace of life, the atmosphere in the village was electric. It was almost magical, more natural and everything seemed to make more sense, instead of the rat race that occurred daily and nightly in the big city.

Every year, at around Christmas time, she came back to the Highlands in search of some peace, and every time she returned to London, she always felt like a brand new person, invigorated, well-rested and ready to tackle the New Year. But there was something different about her visit in Broch Mordha compared to the other places she'd been to in the Highlands, and she had a feeling deep in her guts, she'd have trouble leaving this place once her holiday was over. 

"Ye dinnae look tired at all, Sassenach. Ye're used to staying up late?"

She glanced up at Jamie and smiled. "I sleep very little. I don't know, maybe I have insomnia."

"Really? Perhaps it's just a consequence of living in the city. I mean it's loud there, and I presume ye live in a flat where ye can hear the comings and goings of yer neighbours."

She sighed. "Yes, there's that. The flat Annalise and I live in is not really the most tranquil setting. It doesn't help that I am an overthinker."

"What do ye think mostly about when ye cannae sleep?"

"Mostly about work," she shrugged, glancing at the lights overhead that were hung above the streets. "Don't get me wrong. I'm happy, and I'm grateful for the good life I have. It's just that sometimes I think about the day when I would stop searching for ..."

Jamie waited for her to finish her sentence, but she couldn't find the words. "For what?" he finally asked, his hand squeezing her shoulder, urging her on.

"More," she replied candidly, surprising herself with the unguarded utterance that came from her very soul, ragged with honesty and desire for something she didn't have a name for. Yet. Suddenly, the empty place inside her reared up, seeking company. "How about you? What do you think most of at night?" She paused, trying to tamp down the sudden curiosity that flared up, but it was out before she could stop herself. "A certain lass perchance?"

To her astonishment, she felt him tensed beside her, and after a few seconds, he let out a sigh. "I have nightmares," he confided.

Her head jerked up, and she twisted in her seat to look into his eyes. He was probably waiting for her to ask a torrent of questions, but she remained silent, allowing him to set the pace of their conversation. She nodded her head to continue.

"I used to be with the SAS. It's a special force unit for the British army. The unit I was in was responsible for a number of roles including covert reconnaissance, counter-terrorism, direct action, and hostage rescue. My best friend, Simon MacKimmie, was captured while spying behind the enemies' lines. He was a valuable informant for both sides, and my team were under direct orders to get him out of there alive and as swiftly as possible." She watched as his throat worked as if he saw the scene replaying in his mind. "We found him quickly enough and thought we were out of the woods. But the enemy fire broke out just as we were about to board the helicopter. Simon and I were hit, but my wound was superficial, whereas my friend's injury was fatal. I promised him everything would be alright and would make sure he stayed alive for his family. Before he slipped away, he made me promise to take care of his wife, Laoghaire, if he didn't make it. She was pregnant at the time. I didn't hesitate and made a vow to keep that promise."

"Oh, Jamie ..."

He pressed his lips into a determined line. "Months later, I was discharged from the army after I was diagnosed with PTSD. I resigned myself to a quiet life as the flashbacks from the horrors of the war and friend's death worsened. Laoghaire and I became close, as we talked a lot about Simon and I helped her with the things she needed. That was when I found my purpose in life again, and even though I wasn't in love with her, I loved her like I loved Simon so I asked her to marry me so that I could take care of their child. It was a sacrifice, aye, but it was a small price to pay, considering I get to live, and my mate will never get to see his unborn child. So we planned to marry after the child was born. So while we were waiting for the big day, I bought a house for us, and my brother helped me restore it."

"But Laoghaire didnae want to live here. She wanted us to move to Liverpool because she couldnae stand the quiet and the remoteness even though she was born and bred here. I told her we would talk about it after the baby was born. But I was worried that living in the city would make my PTSD worse. Meanwhile, rumours were going around that Laoghaire has been seeing another man when Simon was still alive and that she would often disappear to Liverpool weeks at a time. I ignored it as I didnae care for idle gossips and dismissed it as such. Ye see, she lived and worked in Liverpool before she married Simon; hence, I thought, that was where the rumours had stemmed from. She's a very ambitious lass and has this dream of making it big one day. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I later found out from a reliable source that not only had she cheated on Simon, but she cheated on me while were engaged. I began to wonder if the child she was carrying was even Simon's. While I was building her a house and funding her trips to Liverpool, she was seeing the same man she'd been meeting up with when Simon was still alive. When I confronted her, she admitted to it. So the wedding was cancelled, and she went to Liverpool to give birth to her child and to be with the other man ." 

He shook his head at the memory. "She reminded me of someone I used to pursue. She'd rather be with a man wearing a five grand suit than be with a labourer like me. I guess it's the lure of the city. Sometimes I feel like I failed Simon and his family. I made him all sorts of promises that I couldnae keep and the memory of the glimmer of hope he had in his eyes turning to death, keep recurring in my dreams."

Claire knew the last things Jamie needed were apologies and pities. He seemed like a proud man who didn't shy away from responsibilities and was unapologetically himself. "I guess we both have demons that keep us up at night," she finally said.

Jamie shrugged and waved his hand. "Dinnae fash. I didnae take ye out so ye could watch me wallow. I've done enough of that myself."

She took a deep breath. "I'm not going to pretend I wholly understand everything you've been through, but one thing I know is that you being part of the SAS means you were trained with the elite. You were drilled to save lives, and with that comes, precision and no room for error. So when something goes wrong, and someone dies during your watch, it becomes your fault."

He looked at her as furrows deepened on his brows.

She placed a hand over his. "You tried to absolve your guilt of not being able to save your mate's life by taking care of Laoghaire, who was so undeserving of your kindness and generosity. God or a higher power or the universe, or whatever you wish to call it, is trying to show you something important. You don't get to choose, Jamie. At the end of the day, you can only do your best, but you can't save everyone. No one can. Right now you're learning to live with that, and all you can do now is make sure you get to the other side. You can't take responsibility for everyone's action but yours."

Something lit up in Jamie's eyes. Emboldened by the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, she grinned at him. "No wonder you won at the caber toss and your team trashed the opponents at shinty today. You have so much pent up emotions dying to come out."

Jamie suddenly laughed out loud and pulled her against him. "I think I need to fire my therapist and hire ye, Sassenach. All this time, we'd circled around the realisation, always walking on eggshells. But ye ...ye just gave it to me straight. I think I'll need ye to stay longer past three kings."

She poked him on the ribs. "Be careful what you wish for!"

..........

A couple of hours and a glass of mulled cider each later, they walked in silence as Jamie guided her down the path that led to the bed and breakfast cottage. As it turned out, he lived three minutes walk away from where she and Annalise were staying.

After spending a whole night out with him, her body was still buzzing with so much energy. She'd never had such a powerful reaction to a man before. Nor enjoyed the company of one as much as she did tonight. She felt like she could uproot all the trees that stood on her path.

"I had a really grand time," he said.

"Me too. Thank you for a wonderful evening."

"And thank ye for the company."

As they neared bed and breakfast cottage, she realised they were exchanging lame small talk, but there's nothing lame about what's passing between them. Either way, she couldn't care less as she'd never laughed so hard in her life.

When they finally reached the small gate, she stopped and turned around to face him. "Well, here we are," she smiled, trying to conceal her reluctance to go.

He hooked the giftbags onto the wooden gate and nodded tensely, the tightness in his jaw quite evident. "Aye. Here we are at Mrs Fitz's place. I ken the ol' dear. She used to feed me and my brother jam piece and milk when we were bairns." He took a step forward and cleared his throat. "I ...um ...tonight was really special." 

"I think so too. Thank you again for everything."

He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. "I'm no' tired yet, so I'm just going to take a walk some more until I'm ready for bed," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

"Yes, you do that. Fresh air is good for you. And I ...ah ... I'll talk to Annalise about extending our stay here. Ah well ... that's if she's still awake." She rolled her eyes and let out a nervous laugh. "Or if she's home. So ... I'll see you around?"

"Aye, I'm just down the road if ye need anything."

"Yes. Got it. Down the road. A hop, skip and jump away."

He stared for a few heartbeats, then ran his hand behind his neck and gave her a crooked smile. "I meant it, Sassenach. If ye cannae sleep, ye can drop by anytime. I'm a light sleeper. Apart from personalised packaged-tours, I also specialise in making a mean toddy to help ye sleep. And a wicked mushroom omelette if its breakfast ye want. Oh, aye, I'm good at foot massage as well."

She stifled a giggle threatening to burst as a ball of warmth bloomed in her belly. "I have no doubt you're good at those things. I'll bear what you said in mind if I need anything or if I have trouble sleeping. And if I have a sudden urge for a foot massage, I'll pop by."

He shook his head. "Ye're not just saying that to spare my feelings are ye?"

"No. Of course not. I enjoy your company. So ..." Claire took a deep breath. "...this is it. Good night, Jamie. And thank you again for everything." Oh, dear God, I keep saying thank you! She stood on her tiptoes to give him a peck on his cheek just as he offered his hand. Their sudden awkward movement made her lose her balance, bumping her nose on his jaw. They both took a step back and laughed. This time she held out her hand, and he shook it.

They continued to stand there and shake hands, neither of them letting go, their smile slowly ebbing away as they stared at each other.

Jamie was the first to speak. "Right, this is the part where I watch ye walk away."

"Yes. I'll go now. It's getting late." She smiled as she took a tentative step away from him, but he didn't let go of her hand.

Her bottom hit the wooden post behind her as Jamie took another step forward. His height and breadth blocked out the street light, and in the shadows, his expression looked almost pained. She'd had men looked at her with desire before, but nothing like the way Jamie was doing right now. The way his jaw and muscles tensed and his breathing shallowed, she knew it was taking him a lot of effort to hold himself back. Her eyes travelled down to his throat and watched his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

"Sassenach." His voice cut through the haze, and her eyes flew to his as he leaned down and cupped her face. "Maybe ye could stay for just a wee while more."

Her heart began to thump wildly against her ribs as the air between them charged. "I really should get going," she whispered, the blood roaring through her ears almost deafening. She willed herself to move, but she remained fixed on the spot.

"Or perhaps ye can just stand here for a few minutes more and let me do this."

She stopped breathing and time stood still as he softly brushed his lips across hers. Then he pulled away for a brief second waiting for her to object, and when she didn't, he kissed her again.

Her brain seized, and her eyes automatically closed. She'd never felt lips so soft nor been kissed with such gentleness. She once read an Oscar Wilde quote, and it said, "A kiss may ruin a human life." It had puzzled her then because up until now, she'd always thought, although some kisses were sweet it was nothing more than two people putting their faces together and exchanging spit. But Jamie's kiss? She knew it had ruined her for any future kisses. This was the type of kiss she never even knew existed. It was the kind of kiss that inspired stars to climb into the sky and light up the world.

She waited with bated breaths for more, but nothing happened.

When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her. "I've wanted to kiss ye from the moment I laid my eyes on ye," he whispered and grazed her lips once more. "Ye've nae idea how beautiful ye are."

Oh, sweet Jesus! He'd barely touched her. It was merely a light brushing of their lips and the slightest sensation of his breath on her face. But it was enough to cause the static crackling between them to be ignited, and she was left wanting more.

Before she could reassemble her thoughts and make sense of her emotions, he stepped away from her and tunnelled his fingers through his hair. "May I please have yer phone, Sassenach?"

"Oh! Wot for?"

He smiled at her. "I'm giving ye my number." 

She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and handed her phone over. She watched him dial his own number on her screen, and after a few seconds later, his own phone rang. 

"There, now I have yers too." He pushed her phone into her back pocket and blew out a breath. "I'll see ye tomorrow?" 

"You want to see me again?" she teased, smiling.

"I dinnae even want to leave ye tonight."

She dropped her head down to hide the heat creeping up her face. "I'll see what's Annalise is up to and we'll take it from there. I'll either call you or send a message."

He placed a finger under her chin and tipped her face up. "Ye're not mad I kissed ye? I havenae forgotten yer rules about first dates."

Claire picked up the gift bags, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. And then she smiled. "I'm starting to believe the rules don't apply to you. Good night, Jamie." And with that, she turned around and walked towards the cottage without looking back, knowing full well Jamie was still stood there waiting for her until she'd safely made it to the house.

Once inside, she allowed herself to slide down to the floor and relived the memory of their first kiss. And she sat there for a very long time.

Dear Readers,

Here's a little story about this chapter. I got stuck at the beginning of writing this one. So what did I do? I started writing from the middle, then the conclusion and finished the opening in the end. It's common to get stuck in writing, so I thought I'd share this wee tip with you. So just in case, the latest update lost some of its fluidity, you now know the reason why. 😀

Anyway, thank you for reading and your feedback from the previous chapter. It's something I truly appreciate. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I look forward to reading your thoughts. Meanwhile, sending you all best wishes and hope you're taking care of yourselves and your health. x