#but my thursday class is two hours. i need to use the bathroom at least once

[i-was-bored-so-this-happened]

In today's news, I could not go to class because I have my period and the building my class is in [film class in the dentistry building] does not allow non-dentistry students to use the bathrooms and, surprise surprise, I can't really carve out twenty to thirty minutes of class time to go to the library bathroom

[sunsents]

Empty - F.W (1/2)

Gah daym this was a JOURNEY to write. I swore to myself to never write angst because, well I suck at it. But here we are, I swear this has a good ending because my heart can't bear that. I could've written this much better, so I promise to bring my A GAME for chapter 2. Enjoy, also Lee in this is a hate crime. This is very story telling-esk so I hope it flows well.

I wouldn't have written this chapter without the help of my good friend @mochiixjimin she helped me edit and spice up this whole thing so thank you so much to her! She's an amazing writer, go check out her work and show her some big love right now or else!! her wattpad

Chapter 1 out of 2 (Backstory)

Summary —> Life has always been a cruel joke to you, yet you simply play along. Overshadowed by Eva Burke your whole life, watching from the sidelines while everyone flooded each other with love, it would always feel like a joke.

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST (with a fluffy ending in the second part) / One mature scene (18+) and then it's angst again <3 / Some slander / Offensive language

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

You were a bright child.

Beaming bright enough to keep a tight lipped smile during flu-shots, and enough to put on a happy façade when your dad threw away the drawing you had done of your family dog, rather than hang it up on the fridge.

Children have foolish dreams, and that was yours. Your friends in preschool boasted about their pictures being hung like trophies on fridges, with decorative magnets and even bigger pink bow ties.

The fridge in the Y/L/N manor was empty. Always empty, just how Ms. Y/L/N liked it. Empty marble floors with empty rug designs, and empty rooms with even emptier people living in it. They were both empty people. Hollow and void of any emotion, at least towards you.

You were different though. You were filled to the brim with ambition and hope and so many positive emotions that your parents never seemed to reflect on you. You were like those Disney princesses. The princesses always had hope, and when you have hope good things happen.

Right?

Your dad never meant to give you false hope. He just wished you’d keep your mouth shut as he worked until late hours. Using big words and having big aspirations, you shouldn’t have.

Mr and Mrs Y/L/N weren't bad people per say, just busy. They didn't know how to raise a child, this was obvious, because the purpose of even having a child was to fix their marriage. But a temporary fix wouldn't do it, it never did. There was always that hole on the roof, leaking rain of despair into their falsely built home that no bucket big enough could hold back. Because it always found a way to overflow.

They didn't know how to show their love, so they did it with money, clothes, toys and crayons that you would later use to draw pictures of your family, only to have them end up in the dumpster once again.

They spoiled you rotten, bought you gifts you never even dreamed of asking. You just shut up and enjoyed it, what else could you do? Whine and demand attention? Risk losing their favor? There was no favor to lose.

You got yourself a fat A plus on your third grade math test. Star stickers on your chest, you entered through the glass double doors of your house with a crooked smile - two front teeth missing of course - making your joy all the more endearing. Your backpack strapped tightly over your narrow shoulders, hanging low with all the crammed books you pushed before leaving school because you were just so excited to show your parents.

You received a big sloppy kiss from your Nanny, who practically was like a second mom to you, and dashed right into your fathers office to show him your new accomplishment.

"Good job, I'm proud of you."

You froze. You found a way to actually get their attention. The attention you so craved, the recognition you would die for. This was revolutionary. Basically a new era for you.

Nanny made you a star shaped cake that night, and sat with you while gently stroking your hair and listening to you blabber about how easy the math questions were. It felt warm, motherly love. Even if it was false, it would never compare to the love of your own mother, a love you would never get.

You spent all your night studying, your eyes burning under the harsh light of your lamp in the early mornings and your pencil, ebbing away over sheets and sheets of blank paper. Writing away your little hands off until they ached, just to snatch another A and get a good job.

This was good, it worked out very well. You became that student who looked forward to class, just to get a good grade and have the validation of your parents. The sight of your father’s lips quirk up even in the slightest, and how your mother’s eyes shone briefly in appreciation of your hard work, even if it was for a quick second, it was worth it.

Until the new neighbors moved in.

Mr. Burke was a round, cheerful man with an even rounder belly, and a big fat pipe that always hung on his lips. Mrs Burke looked and acted like those fairy godmothers you adored. You couldn’t believe such people existed. Mr Y/L/N invited them over for dinner, for courtesy. He was not happy about said courtesy.

He ended up liking the couple, they had a little daughter called Eva, who was small and adorable with round red cheeks and big doe eyes. Not only Mr and Mrs Burke, but the Y/L/N’s adored Eva as well. She was happy, always smiling, and her teeth weren't nearly as crooked as yours, not to mention she had pretty long hair like a princess.

You liked her a lot, took her to pick flowers, showed her the drawings you had prepared for the empty fridge; in case Mr Y/L/N ever had a change of heart and hung them up, you had been trying for three years and weren't giving up any sooner.

Eva was nice, kind enough to share her M&M's and very used to compliments unlike you. She seemed to get a lot from her parents and yours. The adults were so kind to her, always smothering her with love and kisses. You were happy for Eva, happy that Eva somehow managed to gain the favor of your parents before you did.

Little girls tended to be jealous, you weren’t. You were just glad to have a friend so cool, she didn't blush and stutter under praise and apparently her drawings were pretty enough to go on a fridge.

It was a Thursday afternoon when your mom smiled at you for the first time since your last exam grade. "Look, Eva drew us a picture, isn't it pretty?"

The crayola stash under your bed was no longer needed, they appeared clumsily dumped in the neighborhood trash the next day, most of them stomped under the pressure of your little sneakers. And the bundle of drawings you hid under your pillow, wishing on fairy godmother that one day they would be hung up too, were ripped; clearly a struggle given. You had paper cuts on your hands, and your Nanny thankfully applied ointment before Ms and Mr Y/L/N noticed, or rather, stopped to care.

Though you knew that even if you paraded herself with bloody fingers dripping to your elbows, they wouldn't care.

Nanny did, she was there. There when you were haunted with nightmares when the moon was particularly dark, cooing at you and letting you sleep next to her in that small bed of hers. There when you tripped and fell, small scratch resulting in a screaming tantrum. She was gentle, sweet, paid well.

You decided to go and pick flowers with Eva, and make a pretty flower crown for yourself, months after your drawing incident. Of course, you didn't have such silly dreams anymore. You didn’t wish to have your pictures hung, to have your mother wear the flower crowns you made and frankly you didn’t care for the sight of the sparkle in your parents eyes. Nanny’s was enough.

Eva agreed, dressed in a pink tutu Mrs Y/L/N gifted. You didn't comment, though deep down you gazed at the skirt in sparkling envy. Your mother never bothered to get you such pretty things. The two of you gathered saturated petals and nice ribbons while giggling amongst yourselves. Until, you accidentally caused Eva’s flowers to levitate.

Eva ran home, crying and calling you a witch. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N’s dirty looks made her feel shameful, and even dirtier when a letter addressed to her was dropped by a pretty owl you insisted on petting. It was from a school called Hogwarts, in the faraway land of London, and it seemed, not only you but Eva got the same letter the next day.

Though the Y/L/N’s and Burke’s were proud of Eva’s letter. They weren’t with yours.

— — — —

The ride to Hogwarts was interesting to say the least. You had so many questions unanswered, were you a fairy godmother too? Was that your destiny? Was that the reason you never got any attention, because you were destined to give instead of receive?

Eva was cheerful as always, making fast friends in newly bought uniforms and holding a pretty, long and thin wand, with designs flowing across the premise. Your wand was...functional. You were sad you couldn't choose, and that the wand chose the owner. It didn't make sense, what if you didn't want this wand? What if you wanted something charming like Eva’s? It should have been mutual.

It was while trying to find your way to the bathroom that you met the Weasley twins. Quite handsome, a year older and absolute fucktards. A word you learned from the two. Though you always found yourself laughing more at Fred’s jokes, you liked them both equally.

“Hey George! Look.” Fred had exclaimed, clinging onto his brothers shoulder and dragging him across. “Who's that girl?”

You introduced yourself, happy façade on, gentle words slipping out of your mouth like nectar. They had to like you, you told yourself. Just this once, more than Eva.

When sorted into Gryffindor, Eva, you and the twins became inseparable. Your group grew in second year, when Katie, Lee and Alicia Spinnet joined the bunch. You would make fun of the ghastly Potions Professor Snape, and imitate Dumbledore in the hallways to mess with the older students.

You loved your time at Hogwarts, and the adventures that came every year. Especially when Harry Potter joined.

“Hey Fred.”

Fred, who was fiddling with his bracelet you had bought him hummed in response, not bothering to look up.

You sighed, “Do you think the flowers can feel it when we pluck them?”

Fred turned at that, his bracelet was now tightly secure after his struggles. “I hope not.” he smiled, a faraway look on his face whenever he gazed at you. “You know, some people like pain.” he winked.

You merely looked at him confused, clearly way too young for...whatever that is.

He started laughing loudly, slapping his knee and causing you to scoff and slap him on the shoulder.

Third year was when it bloomed. The slight girly attention you gave Fred grew. Fred was...Fred. A handsome ginger, beater for their house's Quidditch team, always charming and charismatic that somehow oozed out of him whenever he did anything really. It was not unusual, every girl in school had a crush on him. That wasn't the case, Fred was one of your best friends, and you refused to entertain the idea of a possible...relationship.

Yet sometimes, you'd find yourself thinking about hugging and kissing Fred like you’d seen couples in your favorite movies did and you’d fall asleep with reddened cheeks and a boy with even redder hair in your mind.

But feelings couldn’t be controlled, nor easily hidden. Eva found out in your fourth year after hearing you mumble his name in your dreams. Fred Weasley was getting more handsome as years passed, and you found it hard to contain your feelings. You were crushing, hard.

Eva was...Eva about it. Happy, but nothing changed. She didn't tease like George did when he found out, nor did she act any differently towards Fred.

“Hey ____!” Fred had sat next to you, shaking the entire couch because he grew that tall during summer. “Got a new girl after me.” he looked at you, almost expectantly, as if you wouldn’t react the way you always reacted.

“That’s great Fred.” you smiled, gulping whatever lump that was forming in your throat and struggling to come out as vulgar words you wished to yell.

“Yeah,” Fred sighed, “It’s...great.”

Fred Weasley was a ladies man, and he wasn't afraid to show it. It was okay, because you were happy enough to be one of his closest, and that was enough. He often boasted about getting girls, and how successful his jokes were, and you always loved snapping back to him cockily, even more cockily than him. Playful banter was easy, comforting between them and when he turned away you would love to shyly entertain the idea of being one of those girl’s Fred talked about.

Fifth year, you had a sudden growth spurt. That was also the year where you discovered Cosmopolitan, Vogue and of course Witch Weekly. Hair no longer in a ponytail, legs shaved and smooth, short skirts with no nylons, you were a new person. After getting your period in third year, your spurt came late, but sudden. Way too sudden in the time of three months. It was hard to handle the changes occurring to your body. It was all too much that you had to become a lady and the fact that you didn’t have your mother to help was a pain you hid deep within.

It was as if whichever god above decided to squeeze your entire life into a summer and call it a day, because it was simply too busy. How ironic. No one saw your growth except old Nanny Gladys. Not Eva, nor her parents considering they went on a getaway and the Burke's, who had gone to Brazil.

But you were over that, you discovered the great telephone, and the great Hermione Granger, package deal with Ginny Weasley. You guys would talk on the phone for hours upon hours, Ginny obscuring your personality and Hermione altering your view on your parents. And Hermione was right, they were assholes. You didn't give a flying fuck about empty praises anymore.

You had become almost too tall for your older clothes, and your breasts were way too big to fit in the training bra you bought not even a month ago. Your hips, now wide and swaying as you walk became graceful, were decorated with long gem bracelets.

You cursed like a sailor that summer, ran around fields with family - your family being your dog, Jambo - bare feet. You stomped on flowers you used to pick as a little girl, stomping on those silly fairytale dreams you used to nurse, and never felt freer. For the first time ever you felt that maybe being empty could be more freeing than having false hope weighing you down.

Returning to Hogwarts was a big deal to students. Who changed, who glowed up after what happened last year - nothing, it was all childish drama.

Before your parents could even see your new self, your escapade to the Granger household was successful. The Y/L/N's didn't care, nor did they write. You knew it should’ve hurt, but frankly, you didn’t think having the pain in your chest was worth it. Hermione was awestruck, of course, after laying her sights on you for the first time since May and insisted on walking into the Entrance Hall, arm in arm with her and Ginny to show you off like some sort of revelation.

It was a revelation all right, at least to the boys, and some girls. It seemed no one saw you as a girl before. George oogled, and Lee was so shocked to find out that you were actually a girl with a pretty figure and an even prettier smile that he stopped clapping you on the back like he always did. Not a girl, you have become a woman. It was far too sudden, new uniforms and a whole new wardrobe had to be bought.

"____? You were a girl?" Fred joked, ruffling your hair like nothing changed between you. And that's when you realized, no slutty skirt, how much pushup your bra, or no matter how pretty your hair looked, Fred would always see you as ____, the girl with crooked front teeth and who once ate a worm in second year. Your teeth weren't crooked at all anymore - thanks to a few years of braces - and finally clear of uncomfortable metals but you felt as if Fred would always see the ghost of them on your pearly whites when you smiled.

He had this view of you that blinded him, caused him to treat you as he treated Ginny while he flirted and played footsie with other girls, including Eva.

That did not stop Eva from giving you false hope, and you took the bait, naive like always. Hope, that's what ruined it all. "You're beautiful now, of course you have a chance!" she said, rubbing your shoulder reassuringly, as if she had warmth to begin with.

It was all false, yet you still believed. You always had. Like a fool.

Ginny didn't like Eva, and maybe that's why you gravitated towards her. She was the first person who had ever met Eva that wasn't charmed by her kind smile and attractive words. Eva was...displeased. She grew up having the attention of everyone around, so when Ginny Weasley told her straight to her face that she wasn't shit, Eva seethed. The attention of Ginny changed nothing though, because Eva was the main character. Everyone - except Ginny, and secretly Hermione (though she would never say it) - loved her, they followed her around like puppies and praised her on her wonky wand work.

The upcoming Yule Ball brought great upswing to Hogwarts.

You were far too busy with her classes to take interest in the tournament - even though the dragon race was the gnarliest sight you had ever seen. Your goal was set, become a badass Auror and move out as soon as possible, so you didn't have to face your parents (except Holidays, yuck.)

But the Yule Ball was your chance. A chance with Fred Weasley.

You could ask to go as friends and maybe, just maybe a little hope and the night would end much more romantic than you had anticipated.

Plucking up courage was the hardest part, you practiced with your bathroom mirror so long that Ginny had to blast through the door and drag you out of her dormitory.

Fred Weasley agreed, why wouldn't he? You, his closest friend, asking to go as a group and drink all night while gossiping? It was a win win. At least that's what you told herself.

That was a lie, it wasn't a win win.

You gave it your all getting ready, dress silk, makeup and expensive shoes. You took a long shower, scrubbing and shaving yourself to a smooth gliding porcelain, only for it all to be washed down with reddened eyes and a boy with even redder hair.

Fred greeted you the same, danced the same, and you chatted the same; you were reminded again, for the second time, that you stood no chance.

Fred told you that he was going to get drinks, a quick trip to the booth and mumbled I'll be back in a second. He was not back in a second. Several minutes passed, and your worries caused your feet to follow after Fred's footsteps.

You ran, trying to find him in the empty corridors of Hogwarts, tears welling in your eyes because he wouldn't. He wasn't that cruel, life wasn't that cruel.

But it was, and in a distant empty classroom you saw Fred Weasley, on his knees and between Eva's legs, groaning and praising her like a starved man. Worshipping her like everyone else had, burying himself in her and completely forgetting the drink he’d bring back in just a second. He’d left you thirsty and alone in the Great Hall and left you to drink from a cup he hadn’t known to be forbidden. Yet Eva did.

Eva's perfect dainty hands tangled in his ginger hair, thighs clamping shut while her high pitched moans flooded your mind and echoed around your head. They were so loud that she couldn’t even hear the loud echoes of your footsteps and the woeful cries that left your lips as you ran. It wouldn’t be the first time she had ignored your pain for her own selfish reasons.

Your heart shattered, and suddenly you were six again, watching your parents praise Eva, hang her drawing on the fridge. A soft breeze tickling your bare toes, dangling from the small cushioned seat you sat on while you watched Eva braid Mrs Y/L/N’s hair. Emotionless, silent, not asking for anything, knowing that you won't receive in return. Eva's small hands carefully placed the flower crown on Mrs Y/L/N’s pool of hair, and she smiled, heart warming and hopeful. Suddenly you remembered the feel of your own hands tangling in between your locks as you stood on your tiptoes, trying to imitate your mothers braid on yourself in the mirror you couldn't reach. You pretended, only for a moment before it twisted into knots.

What a cruel joke, you thought as you watched Eva receive the world from Fred, from your parents, from your friends and from every damn person you had met.

You cried on a big set of stairs that night, your wails echoing as you asked whoever, whatever what you had done. What you had done to deserve such treatment from the people around you. It was rather cliche - and maybe a bit too dramatic. It was an uncomfortable seat of course, and your body, as well as your heart, ached. Pain, misery, false hope and enough hair spray to melt the ozone.

The princesses always cried on big sets of stairs, uncomfortable stone floors causing them to shiver while they hid away their beautifully animated faces in their perfect hands. This was different, there was no fairy godmother to fix your makeup and clone a gentlemanly Fred Weasley, a perfect prince. You knew, because you cried, and prayed and cried and prayed until your throat was sore. There was no fairy godmother, it was all a lie. There was no happy ending. There would be none.

No one came to find you that night either, and you had to drag yourself back to the Gryffindor common room, feet bare, mascara, blush - anything else you put on in hopes of being able to become like Eva even only for one night - practically nonexistent from the way your tears washed them away.

You didn't sleep that night, and your head was unusually clear, pounding, but clear. You laid awake, eyes blood-shot and stinging while your dress shuffled uncomfortably between your sheets. You were too tired to change, and your dress was far too pretty to be worn so short.

Ginny's words replayed over and over again. "They're not worth it." her voice was so clear, and true. Mr and Mrs Burke weren't worth it. Your parents weren't worth it. Fred Weasley wasn't worth it. Eva wasn't worth it. The midnight chirping of bugs invited themselves in from your open window, and blue moonlight streaks beaming down in lines from the tulle curtain flowed with breeze, it was calming.

You felt calm, for the first time in sixteen years. You felt calm.

Fred and Eva started dating that week. Everyone acted like they expected it, and you realized just how blind you had been. Eva Burke and Fred Weasley, golden couple of Hogwarts.

You watched them, emotionless, as they embraced with love and so much passion that you felt embarrassed. Embarrassed at how you’d blushed and squeal over Fred in front of Eva and George and anyone who had found out because now you knew. Now you knew that their amused smiles were probably pitying grimaces because they knew that you two were never meant to be. It was always Fred and Eva.

Fred was an amazing boyfriend, making sure Eva was taken care of, lovingly staring at her whenever and wherever, arm looped around her waist at all times; you realized they were truly not worth it.

"You disgust me."

You didn't mean the words to escape so carelessly, but when you said them, you realized you didn't want to take them back. The growing pit in your stomach felt weightless. "Excuse me?" said Fred, stopping his nibbling on Eva's neck, who was just as shocked. You scoffed, Eva already had enough purple bruises to parade around so why did Fred have the need to add more?

"You heard me right," George, Lee, Ron, Harry, Katie and whoever sitting in their circle stared at you, wide-eyed, Ginny and Hermione, however, were grinning devilishly. Kind ____, wouldn't hurt a fly, quiet at times and didn't know how to stand up for herself. It was shocking, but you were done pretending. You didn't want to be like that anymore, you wanted to say whatever came to mind and not worry about the consequences. "You guys disgust me, I know I should be supportive but you don't match, at all."

You turned to George. "And you, no you can't talk about Katie like that." George went pink. "You're disgusting for sleeping around carelessly and telling girls you'd write, stop giving people false hope. Grow up. You’re nearly an adult and you can’t even treat a girl right."

"And you Lee," Lee went quiet. "What gives you the right to make fun of me like that. I'll wear whatever the fuck I want, just because you don't have the courage to wear a headband. If you can talk about my breasts, I'll talk about your shrimp."

"Ron, you take advantage of Hermione then lead her on. Open your eyes, asshole."

"Harry, you're not the main character. You're not always going to be the center of attention, nor do you have the right to yell at your friends."

"Alicia, god you're so stupid. I'm sorry, you're great but such an airhead. No, you can't ride a Thestral if you can't see them, and stop eating quill ink they're bad for you."

You stood up, grinning proudly, heart loud in your chest you feared someone might hear. "Frankly, I don't wanna be friends anymore. I'm done with this façade, except you two, 'Gin, Hermione. The rest of you are just so fake." she gestured to them. "Boys," she nodded again. "Don't talk to me anymore, and Lee, give me back the money, think it's about time don't you think? I've been paying for you since third year."

And with that, you left. You left Three Broomsticks, grin wide and chest heaving. Hermione and Ginny ran behind, whooping and cheering you on as they laughed.

The news of your outburst spread fast like wildfire caught in wind. That week was bliss, you no longer had to watch Fred and Eva, nor did you have to act sweet to anyone. You didn't have to laugh along Lee's sexist jokes and look away to wince, it was pure bliss. You realized that the feeling of being free didn’t have to be momentary.

Pansy Parkinson was surprisingly a good friend, she didn't have the same fakeness to her, the one Eva had where her smile was too kind. She spoke her mind, though every Slytherin did, and you liked that. Ginny wasn't happy with your new found friends, but she couldn't separate you. You made your own decisions from now on. It was refreshing.

You told your new friends everything, eager to get it off your chest and breathe, and they listened. For the first time, someone listened. You didn't have to get good grades, nor did you have to act like a sweet angel.

You teared up the first time Pansy said; "It's not your fault,". You knew it wasn't your fault, but hearing someone else say it with such genuine eyes made you believe. Actually believe.

It started off with you watching from the sidelines as Draco and Blaise pranked, insulted and shamed whatever your old friend group did. It wasn't unusual for Draco to act this way, but he got especially irritated after hearing what you told them. Blaise, someone usually quiet, had stepped up and decided to somehow release the pent up anger he had for the Gryffindor students.

The year ended, and you had started to sneak in an insult or two towards Fred and Eva. It felt nice, like finally, step by step you were clearing your years of hidden jealousy. But, there was no one to tell you that this simply wasn't the right way.

That summer, you stayed at the Burrow. Ginny had invited you and you were quick to say yes; obviously a fact forgotten. Fred, George and whoever you had insulted last year stayed in the same house. You simply didn't want to go home, and if this meant seeing Fred Weasley then you had to endure it.

Molly Weasley was the sweetest person you could ever meet, and it was genuine. It felt genuine, you feared your teeth might rot if the woman got another word in. Molly greeted you as if you were her own daughter she hadn't seen in years. You felt valued, seen.

Until Eva was there, Fred invited her. You had to watch the only person you were able to love, introduce the only person he was able to love to his mother. It wasn't you. It would never be you.

And you realized, even after everything, Eva had once again found a way to be more loved than you.

The grin Molly broke out was nothing short of beautiful, and you couldn't help but smile as well. The smile wasn't directed towards you of course, and you sat on that small kitchen chair, celebrating a relationship that caused your ruin.

Eva didn't care that your friendship was over, nothing budged in her life. She still got the same attention, still received the same love from Fred. The same affection, the same attention and the same everything. Or so it seemed.

Though unlike Eva, Fred merely watched you with sad eyes.

You stayed clear of the couple and the rest. You hung out with Ginny and Hermione only, ignoring the dirty looks Ron and Harry gave you. The secret, whispered insults Eva threw your way. George didn't say anything, but he didn't object either. This was enough to show how he felt. At this point you really didn't care. Why would you, when they didn’t either?

You held your head high just like Ginny and Hermione told you to, and you spoke in a loud and clear tone whenever asked something. Eva didn't, she stuttered when you spoke to her directly. Her words scrambled against each other when she tried to voice her insults in louder statements than a whisper. For the first time, you felt relief. You felt intimidating, protected by the barriers you had built around yourself.

Longest day of summer hit, and it boiled. Tanning became a distant dream, you would bake in this weather, and you were thankful to the big AC box you had brought from home. You couldn't sleep that night, sweat beads falling down your forehead that was already covered in a thin sheen. You had decided to get a cold glass of water, not sure how you ended up face to face with Fred Weasley. His wand tip shone with blue light, and his freckles were much darker because of the sun. It seemed the sun decided to be cruel to Fred Weasley back and wash Fred over with it's deathly heat. He was sunburnt, this was an understatement. He was burnt.

You couldn't help but start laughing when you met, ignoring the proximity, ignoring the sleeping house, dead silent and a big leap from the lively Burrow, ignoring Fred's soft breaths he let out every other second. You couldn't live off on false hope anymore.

Suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore, and your face quickly fell. You took a big step back and inhaled, ready to ignore him like you had been doing for the past year. But Fred Weasley was a persistent man, and he gripped your arm and looked at you with determined, doe-like eyes. "Tell me what I did wrong." he said, adamant on fixing this, whatever this was. You both didn't know.

You stood silent.

"Please flower,"

"Don't call me that." you said, stern and gaze sharp. Fred didn't react, he kept on insisting.

"Please, tell me how to fix this. I can fix it," he pleaded, a plethora of empty promises fell out of his lips like nothing. He lied like it was nothing, he was oblivious to everything he and everyone around them had put you through. It was infuriating.

You didn't say anything. You knew he would not fix anything but maybe staying silent would give him the false hope that spinned mockingly in your head for the past eighteen years.

"I'm sorry, just please. I can fix this, I promise, don't be like that." empty tears fell down from his eyes. He looked empty, tired. They lacked the charm they usually shined with and you wondered if it was only you that caused such dullness. Eye bags prominent that you never noticed before. It all felt like a lie, a cruel joke.

Fred Weasley was simply a cruel joke. His presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, especially when you down it like how Hagrid nurses a Firewhiskey filled pint glass. You never know how it will hit you. But in the end, you'd always find yourself curled next to the toilet, crying your eyes out because your headache was simply too much.

He was sobbing now, hanging onto your waist like you would simply vanish and you let him. The grip he had on was like steel vice - almost concerning - but you didn't touch him, didn't say anything. You just let him be, like he did to you. Allowed him to hopelessly hang off you before you would eventually leave him alone, like he did to you. "Where did I go wrong? How could we end up like this? What went wrong?"

‘You’, but your voice couldn’t be found.

Questions were useless when the answer was already right in front of his eyes. You didn’t let a single tear fall, you wouldn't forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

You blinked, and that night was over. Summer continued on like nothing happened, like it didn't leave you heart broken and in such shame yet again. You continued on ignoring Fred as he looked at you with sorrowful eyes. Looked at you more, with more than he did his own girlfriend.

You blinked and the school year started again with another terror looming around the corner. There was simply no need to keep up anymore, because school was easy. You attended classes, got good grades, a few scar here and there from Umbridge's torture chamber, a woman who stood at a whopping five foot three yet still teriffied an entire school.

You blinked and you had already become a proud member of Draco's insult the Gryffindor's club. You didn't even feel bad, being horrible to the people you hated for years felt like a breath of fresh air. You didn't go as far as physically hurting any of your old friends, but coming up with damaging insults was such fun. A lot more fun than sitting around with a fake smile.

You blinked, and you were already moving out from your childhood house. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N were unusually happy, this was a given. They would have a new empty room and make another office, like they didn't have enough already. You feared they would start getting rid of bathrooms once too into their work, and they would have to do their business in bushes or buckets. Scratch that, you didn't fear that, it would be fucking hilarious.

You blinked, and when had time passed too quickly? Where did all those empty childhood years had gone? You were already graduating, on your way to become an Auror. You had lost contact with all your old friends now, regretfully Ginny and Hermione too.

The war had hit too quickly, luckily you survived, so did your friends. Unluckily, it left you with a nasty scar right across your left brow. It looked sick, but the hit wasn't worth it. It hurt like a bitch. You could see, it was a close call but vision wasn't an issue. The trauma though, god did Bellatrix's breath smell bad.

When it was all over, you had seen Fred hugging his family tightly. It seemed the Weasley's all survived, and you gave them each tight lipped smiles while holding a bunched up rag to your head to stop the blood gushing out. This wasn't the reunion you wanted to have with Ginny, but hey, you take what you can get after a revolutionary Wizarding war you barely made out alive.

Before a franticly running Fred could reach you though, you apparated to your flat in Diagon Alley, ignoring the thrumming of your heart, and how you practiced in front of a mirror to congratulate their successful joke shop that morning.

[jaybird-redhood]

propinquity

wc: 2.2k

pairing: jason todd // gn reader

The first thing you think when you see him for the first time is that he has the cutest smile.

That’s a lie, the first thing you think it that he is so incredibly in shape, and it looks great on him, but the smile thing sounds better in your head.

He's moving into the apartment across from yours a month after you moved into yours. Weird, because the two people in your building closest to your age are 2 and 63, respectively.

You suppose that some wicked twist of fate must’ve brought this upon you for missing your cousin’s birthday party last week, because the guy standing across from you is crazy hot. And looking right at you. And you are in the huge neon Wonder Woman t-shirt that your best friend got for your birthday last year.

Yeah. Karma.

“Nice shirt,” the guy offers, holding in a grin. “You’re really making it work.”

“I-”

“See you around, neighbor.”

And with a shut of a door and an awfully charismatic smirk he’s gone.

The next time you see him is a week later, and this time- luckily, you think- you’re dressed somewhat put together. You run into him while unlocking your door.

"What's got you in a twist?" he asks.

"Um," you start, "I just. Ugh I have so much to do. Like 3 hours of homework, a lecture tomorrow that I cannot skip, and I'm completely out of bread and eggs and can't even you to the store until, like, Thursday at best."

Once you start rambling you can't seem to stop. You slouch against your door. You're not entirely sure why you're telling a stranger all this, but he seems to be listening, so you suppose that’s a good sign

"I get the feeling," he offers, and you look up at him. "I'm majoring in English Lit and my classes are kind of kicking my ass."

You give him a small smile, "Glad to know someone in this building is struggling as much as I am."

"Jason," he says, and he reaches his hand out to you. "My name."

You shake it and tell him yours.

As you both turn back into your respective apartments you think that he maybe isn't as intimidating as you thought.

~

The next day goes by with a really boring lecture and another 3 hours of work you need to do.

The ride home from uni isn't that long, but it's long enough for you to contemplate all the ways that your life went wrong after moving to Gotham. And, maybe as payback for thinking mean things about the city, rain that you think should belong to a category 3 hurricane starts to whip around your car 10 minutes into your drive.

Your clothes are dripping water in literal puddles by the time you get back to your apartment.

Groaning, you start fishing for your keys in your purse while walking up the last flight of stairs.

When you get to your door you stop. Right in front of it there’s a grocery bag. Picking it up and looking inside you see a loaf of bread and a small carton of milk.

You pick it up smiling.

“Jason?” you ask, knocking on his door.

No response.

You shrug and turn around. Remember to thank him the next time you run into each other; you think.

~

That next time doesn’t happen to be that long and thank goodness for you.

“You know, we really need to stop meeting like this,” he says to you.

You’re sitting on the floor outside of your door looking rather pathetic, and he’s giving you the most awful smirk you’ve ever seen. (Not that it looks bad on him though. You seem to think that nothing could really look that bad on him)

“I swear I’m usually more put together than this,” you sigh to him. “You moving here jinxed me!”

“Yeah yeah. You’re locked out, aren’t you?”

You give him your best withering I’m going to kill you stare, but it must not be working because he just laughs even harder at you.

“This is completely not my fault it’s just I lost my second set of keys like right when I moved in and then today when I got home, I accidentally left them in my car, but my second set of car keys is in my apartment so now I can’t get them out, stop laughing at me!”

“God you’re a mess,” Jason says- finally finished laughing at you and maybe taking a bit of pity on how disheveled you look. “You couldn’t call anyone to get you in?”

You shake your head.

“My friend is the only other person with a set, but they’re out of town, and our landlord is being a dick and telling me it’s my fault in the first place, so I need to deal with it. I’ve been sitting out here for like an hour.”

“All I’m hearing is that it is your fault and now you’re just moping about it feeling bad about yourself.”

You tilt your head against the door so hard that it makes you wince a bit.

“Ok fine,” he says crossing his arms.

“What?”

“Wait right here.”

He goes into his apartment and comes back out with a skinny metal thing you don’t recognize.

You look at him in confusion and he just motions for you to scoot out of the way as he sticks it in your locks and starts to pick it.

You sigh in relief.

“Thank you thank you thank you. For everything. I swear I will get my life together, so you don’t feel like you have to keep cleaning up my messes.

“I don’t mind,” he says with a small smile, “Take your time.”

And with that he opens the door to your apartment and turns back to his.

“By the way, you should really get better locks. That was way too easy.”

You make a note in your head to get that done sometime. As you’re lying on your couch that night, you’re AirDropped a photo on your phone. Saving it up you see it’s a piece of paper with neat handwriting on it: a phone number and a smiley face, Jason’s name at the bottom.

You smile too and add the number to your contacts.

~

Over the next few weeks, you and Jason start talking more, both over text and through the various times when you run into each other outside your doors.

Each interaction is better than the next, and you soon start to realize that Jason isn’t just some hot guy with no brains. He’s sweet and charismatic, has a whole wall full of bookshelves, could probably quote any classical novel by heart, has incredibly good taste in music, and best (or worst) of all, would make incredible friend material.

It’s just that as you become closer friends, you start to realize that that might not be all you want.

It’s a stupidly cold Friday morning when he texts you, and you’re covered in blankets and wrapped in sweatshirts in your bed. Movie at my place tonight?

You text back your approval and a quick be there at 6 before getting ready for classes.

The day goes by slower than you hoped.

It might be the anticipation of seeing Jason again, or more likely the hours of lectures you have to sit through, but you’re elated when your final class for the day gets let out.

The hours in between are a blur.

A blur which leads to the two of you sitting on his couch watching Romeo and Juliet together, a blanket thrown over your bodies.

You have the obligatory bowl of popcorn resting on your legs, and every few minutes Jason reaches across your lap to take a handful.

The way you’re laying half on top on him is completely deliberate, as to take as much of his body heat as possible. Your landlord had turned off heating 3 weeks prior to ‘save money’ or some other bullshit.

Jason’s not complaining though.

Once your popcorn bowl is finished and your head is in his lap, he runs his fingers through your hair absentmindedly. It might be the nicest feeling you’ve ever felt.

Throughout the movie you exchange snide comments about the plot back and forth. You start trying to say funny things whenever you can just to hear how sweet his laugh sounds to your ears.

By the end of the movie, you’re only slightly in tears, or so you tell yourself.

“Are you crying right now?” Jason asks incredulously, wearing a teasing smile.

“It’s not my fault,” you half say half moan, “Leonardo DiCaprio just has that effect on me.”

He just laughs and pulls you upright until you’re sitting on his lap.

His eyes are a shade of blue green that you’ve never seen before, although you could swear their getting greener by the second.

You watch his gaze drop down to your lips before staring you right in the eyes again.

“Can I kiss you?”

“God yes,” you tell him, and kiss him right back.

~

The next week is somewhat uneventful, even though you and Jason had been meeting each other almost every night, rotating apartments based on whose house was warmer each particular night.

Tonight is your night, and you’ve been waiting the whole day to show him the film you had rented to watch together.

The walk up to your door is easier than usual, and you have a bounce in your step that’s making you feel even more elated than normal taking out your keys to unlock your apartment.

You open your door and your bag drops. The keys clatter when they hit the hardwood, and the silence that follows is deafening.

“You’re bleeding on my carpet,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth.

There Jason is, bleeding quite profusely, and using your kitchen counter to keep himself vertical. He’s wearing what looks to be a torn half of a domino mask and an extremely hot leather jacket.

(Not that this was the time for noticing his fashion choices, but you filed that thought away for later.)

What really catches your eye though is the huge red bat symbol on his chest, and the red helmet next to it sitting on your counter.

He shifts a little to the side before stumbling through saying, “Um, so, I know this isn’t ideal and I’m really sorry to put you in this situation, but I seriously do not feel like bleeding out tonight and-”

“Oh my god this is great,” you cut him off with. “I thought you were a hit-man!”

“Wait what.”

“Shit no that’s not what I meant- kind of, hang on we should probably stop you from dying before having this conversation.”

You walk over to him to get a better look at his wounds.

“God Jace, you look like death warmed over.”

He just stares at you.

“You have a bunch of stuff in your bathroom, right?”

At least this elicits a reaction. He grimaces in pain but gives you a nod of his head in conformation.

“Ok I’ll be right back, don’t move.”

He gives you a look that says seriously, where would I go.

3 minutes later you’re back with a needle and thread, and some sterilizing spray.

“This should be fine,” you tell him, “I took a first aid class last year with my friends and passed with flying colors according to the nurse.”

“Just try to keep them tight and neat. I trust you,” he says, and your heart pounds just a little harder.

You respond with a nervous laugh but take a deep breath and start working.

~

An hour and a half later you’re done.

The combination of pain meds, bandages, and a whole lot of stitches eventually led to you and Jason laying in your bed together, both completely exhausted.

He turns his head to face you.

“Could we maybe go back to the hit-man thing?”

“Oh uh. Well I saw a bunch of shirts covered in blood in your laundry in the bathroom, not to mention all the weirdly specific first-aid you had,” you tell him.

“And also the assorted guns and knives you have hidden all over. I guess I just assumed? But the whole Red Hood thing is so much better,” you reassure him.

“You found all my knives?”

You smile up at him.

“I love that that’s thing you chose to focus on.”

“And you’re really not mad that I didn’t tell you about the whole vigilante thing before?” he asks.

“Jay, I had already resigned myself to life forever with some shady hit-man that also happened to be incredibly good looking. Red Hood is ten times better than that. I’m not going to run away from you just because you’re incredibly intimidating and probably could kill me. I see that as an added bonus,” you say, with as much charm as you can muster without yawning.

“Just. Be careful, ok? I’d hate to make this a routine.”

He responds by pulling you closer to his body.

“I promise,” he whispers into your head. “You really to remember to get better locks by the way, breaking in was still way too easy.”

You let out a small laugh and finally you let yourself give into sleep.

[basicallywhiterice]

countdown (na jaemin)

pairing: na jaemin x reader

genre: fluff. friends to lovers, college!au

summary: The three times you should have made a move, the two times you tried to, and the one time you didn’t need to.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: cussing

a/n: alternatively titled “haechan being both the best and worst wingman to grace the face of the earth”

i. Three times you should have made a move.

“Hey! Jaemin! Over here,” Haechan shouts, waving at a boy clad in an oversized flannel across the dining hall. He turns, lighting up when he waves back, and all but runs over from the dish drop-off section.

“He’s my roommate,” Haechan introduces once Jaemin is in earshot. “Jaemin, this is y/n. Y/n, Jaemin,” Haechan introduces.

He’s cute, you notice immediately, his floppy hair swept to the side messily. Almost as quickly, you dispel the thought and do your best not to stare, extending a hand for him to shake on instinct. “Nice to meet you, Jaemin. So you’re the roommate who keeps losing his AirPods?”

In the second your hand hangs there, empty, you have enough time to go through all five stages of grief. You blundered in front of Haechan’s unfairly attractive roommate you’ll no doubt see again, about his AirPods? You prepare to draw your hand back and smooth it over your hair to relieve the awkwardness of rejected handshake.

Then Jaemin shakes your hand, eyes crinkling up as he beams. If you thought he was cute before, you’re a goner once his smile is directed at you. “Nice to meet you too, y/n. And yeah, that’s me. Were you the one who convinced him to get me the glow-in-the-dark Among Us case? That was honestly the best housewarming gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“Hey, that was all his idea. Besides convincing him to spend an extra dollar on the glow-in-the-dark, I played no part in it.”

“I’m sure. In any case, you have excellent taste. Thank you for picking it out.” He turns to converse with Haechan, but you don’t hear the rest of what he says over the sound of you putting your foot in your mouth.

As soon as he walks away, you collapse into a heap of regret on the table. “Why didn’t you tell me your new roommate was hot before we got the gag gift?” you groan. “God, how am I supposed to flirt with him after that?”

“You just met the guy, relax,” Haechan reassures, taking a bite out of his sandwich. “Stop overreacting,” he mumbles around a mouthful of his BLT.

You raise your head to glare at him for being your voice of reason, and he wiggles his eyebrows.

“You like him already, huh? Don’t worry, he actually thought the case was funny. You’re fine.”

You bury your face in your hands in lieu of responding.

Jaemin is in your Algorithms class, you come to learn, likes useless trinkets more than you do, and vehemently opposes your dislike of coffee.

“Just try it,” he coaxes when he orders his second americano in an hour. “Haechan likes it, and you trust him, right?”

“With my life,” you deadpan as you both glance across the library to observe his attempts to flirt with the junior making his Starbucks order. He drops his straw when he gestures with his right hand, and you both snicker when he bends down to pick it up. “Actually, I think I’ll pass.”

Jaemin shrugs, taking a short sip from his cup before wincing and fanning his tongue. “Maybe you’re right. Anyways, which block did you want me to read?”

You show him, making edits as he comments on your code, and thank him once the block is fixed.

“No problem,” he grins. “Let me know if anything else is confusing. I’m happy to help.”

Just as you open your mouth to start the ritual of asking for his number, Haechan interrupts. “I got their number,” he announces, setting his phone down firmly between you and Jaemin and holding out his hands for a high five.

You sigh and half-heartedly slap his right hand despite your annoyance. At least one of you can be lucky in love, even if it comes at the expense of the other person.

“What’s the most common fear you have?” you ask Jaemin, tracing the outline of a cloud against the pale blue sky with your finger.

“What do you mean?” he asks, turning to lie on his side. You drop your hand to rest on his beige blanket and meet his questioning glance.

“Like spiders, public speaking, dying single… what’re your fears that are common?”

He squints as a strong gust of wind blows his hair into his face. “I think you’re overexaggerating how common the intense fear of dying single is.”

“Why?” you ask, not entirely sure why you’re pressing him about this. “Are you not afraid of it?”

“Hm, I guess I’m a lot more scared of dying alone than dying single. What are your thoughts?”

A fleeting semblance of a pickup line involving the two of you and not being single surfaces in your brain, but it never reaches coherence. Instead, you respond, “Heights, probably.”

And rejection, you sadly add in your head. Definitely rejection.

ii. Two times you tried to make a move.

“Hey, did I spell this right?”

When you lean over to read Jaemin’s meticulously written flashcard, your knee bumps into his. He mumbles an apology but makes no move to shift his leg. You stay like that, reviewing your notes for your last midterm together, until Haechan opens the door to his dorm and you scoot to different places on the couch.

“Hey Jaemin!” Haechan calls when he’s halfway in the bathroom. “Don’t forget about the trash,” he reminds, closing the door.

“Oh shit, one sec!” Jaemin hollers back. You wince at the volume, and he sheepishly turns toward you. “Sorry. Gotta take out the trash once he’s done,” he gestures, hand sweeping outwards before he knocks a couch pillow over.

Before he can fix it, you blurt, “Take me out while you’re at it too,” without missing a beat.

He doesn’t have time to react before you start laughing it off awkwardly. You don’t want to—damn it, why can’t you just be direct—but the fear of rejection overrides your confidence.

“Funny, right? Because of how ‘take out’ has different meanings? I’m hilarious, I know.”

He stares at you for a second too long before letting out a delayed chuckle. Haechan spares you the awkwardness of hearing his reply when he exits the bathroom and sits down between both of you, though, and Jaemin leaves with the trash soon after.

“Nice save, Casanova,” Haechan grins as soon as Jaemin steps out, reclining back into the couch. His Cheshire-Cat-esque smirk only grows when you reach over to smack him with the knocked-over pillow. “Wanna get take out once he gets back?”

You throw the pillow in his face this time. “I’m never coming back here again.”

You find yourself waiting outside their dorm exactly twelve days later when your code won’t run after two hours of debugging and neither of them will answer your texts.

“Asshole,” you shoot at Haechan when he opens the door. “Please help me.”

“Tough luck. I’ve got a date tonight,” he says, smug.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve helped you pick a better outfit than that,” you critique, glancing at his plain button-up shirt.

“Chill, I haven’t layered anything yet. And Jaemin picked it out, so good luck convincing him to help you debug. And getting a date with him. Coward.”

“You say that like you didn’t interrupt us the first time I was trying to get his number,” you whisper.

“And you act like you would’ve met him without me.”

“Touché.”

“Who’s getting a date with me?” Jaemin calls from his desk, pushing up his glasses and frowning at his computer.

“Me,” you call back, and he glances up, eyes widening when he sees it’s you. Ignoring Haechan’s impressed “damn,” you walk over to the chair next to Jaemin. “I’ll help you debug if you help me?”

“You want me to—help you debug? No way,” he says, and for a moment, you regret your boldness. “How’d you know I was dying over coding too?” he continues, and your worries disappear.

“Just a hunch,” you shrug. Haechan leaves when the two of you are hunched over your laptops, elbows brushing gently enough to make it look like an accident.

iii. One time you didn’t need to make a move.

“Y/n?”

You look up, halting your check of Jaemin’s backpack to make sure he hasn’t forgotten his AirPods again. “Yeah?”

His ears are tinged with pink and he can’t quite meet your eyes, but he looks like he’s trying his best to do so anyways. “Would… you… like to go out with me on Thursday? Maybe for dinner if you have time?”

You blink, holding your breath for three seconds just in case you misheard or he’s joking. Neither seems to be the case. “On a date?”

“Yes.” He nods. “Yes, a date.” He fidgets with the hem of his shirt. You smile, and he stops.

Silently, you count down from three before answering to avoid blurting out your answer, but it comes out with the same level of enthusiasm nonetheless.

“I’d love to.”

[angeloroki]

something more — s. todoroki

you wanted to stop this relationship of friends with benefits, with shoto. before your feelings towards him destroyed you.

— character ; aged up!shoto todoroki x gn!reader

— request ; @tyunsworld angst college au where shoto and yn used to be friends with benefits but yn is trying to stol this fwb but shoto refuses (no smut pls just some indications)

— genre ; angst, au college

— warnings ; suggestive content, curses

— a/n ; i decided to change the ending a bit, i hope it's ok for you and that you like it anyway :)

you were sitting on your bed, in the room you shared with your roommate. she wasn't there, gone to her weekly dance class.

every thursday and tuesday, at 6pm until 8pm sharp. your friend was very punctual, and that suited you perfectly.

because usually, at that time, during those two short hours that you shoto would come and spend some time with you in that room.

it was never anything serious, just a good time that the two of you would give each other. kisses that were worthless, soft caresses yet devoid of feeling, sighs and i love you's that were deprived of love echoed and echoed between the walls of the university room.

it had started only 6 months ago, at a mutual friend's party. todoroki was the rich boy in business school. classy, elegant, handsome, and a smooth talker, he had absolutely every girl on campus at his feet.

so, you could say you were slightly surprised when you saw him accost you in the kitchen, where you were trying to relax a bit. you had hooked up, the discussion was not forced, one thing led to another - and especially under the effect of the euphoria felt at the very moment - you had ended up in bed together. you could remember that it was the best sex of your life. and yet you had had quite a few.

a bitter taste stuck in your mouth.

the day after that night, he had found your number and offered to continue. nothing serious of course, just something where you would both enjoy each other. no empty feelings. he had used a phrase,... friends with benefits, that's the term he had used.

stupidly, you didn't hesitate. because after all, you were young, and you needed to unwind with classes and all. and it's not like you could fall in love with a guy like that.

only you were so wrong.

you slowly came out of your thoughts to look at the time. 6:01 p.m. Your friend had gone out ten minutes ago, so Shoto should be back any minute.

a sigh escaped your lips at the scenario that was about to unfold.

and yet you were the only one to blame, or rather your stupid heart. or maybe your stupid ease of attachment to people who couldn't care less about you.

you lay down and stared at the ceiling.

you knew his weaknesses, what he liked to do on a sunday afternoon, the things that made him angry, just as you knew every inch of his body.

and how the fuck could you not fall in love with him?

a salty taste comes to your lips, tears. you bite your upper lip, silently. and yet you knew it wouldn't be mutual. and it never would be. because he was simply shoto todoroki.

« you spend a lot of time with that boy, what's his name again ? your roommate yells at you from the bathroom. is there something going on between you or something ? »

the heat came flooding in on your cheeks.

« no... no! it's just that we have mutual friends, that's all. »

« yeah sure ! but be careful though, he's known to break hearts this guy [..]. »

that talk you had three months ago echoed ironically in your head. breaking hearts. and yours, by the way.

you go over the plan in your head. before things get hot, you tell him. all at once, well almost all. you just tell him you want out of this relationship.

and so you say everything without pauses, at the risk of crying in front of him. the best thing is that you remain insensitive.

someone knocked on the door. 6:12 pm, he's here.

« y/n, it's me. » he said in his deep voice, which always made you shiver.

you got up and opened the door for him. a small smile lit up his usually stoic face. as you spent more time together, shoto had managed to get more and more comfortable with you, and that could only warm your heart.

« sorry for the delay, the traffic was heavy. »

he went to sit on your bed after taking off his shoes. a worried expression grew on his face when he saw that you said nothing.

« if you're tired, we can meet again next week. i know it's tiring with exams right now. » he said in a kind voice.

could he stop being an angel, just thirty seconds, you said to yourself silently. in just a few steps, you crossed the room and placed a long passionate kiss on his lips, and it was with great pleasure that you felt him respond with the same ardor. you had to feel it one more time before you put an end to this whole mess.

his lips tasted minty, and they were angelically sweet. addictive, that's what his kisses were like. you felt his tongue asking for permission to find yours. and for a few seconds, a feverish waltz settled between your two mouths.

you felt as if long hours had already passed. and you still wanted more to be added, or for time to stand still. but you wouldn't let him go.

and yet.

you shifted from him. he was a mess, his hair untidy from your hands that had to find a support, his face was a dark red.

a small laugh escaped his lips.

« what's this ? a goodbye kiss ? »

you looked away from him. and that's how he understood.

« what ? tell me something. »

« i want to stop this. I'm not interested in our evenings together anymore. »

you didn't need to see him to understand that he was sad now.

« did i do something wrong ? »

his hand came to yours, its warmth melting you.

« no, not at all. i just want to stop this. »

you knew him now, and you knew he'd try to figure out what the problem was. you just needed him to be angry with you, so your feelings for him, the first to be touched, could surely fade. at least you hoped so.

« it's gotten boring with you. you faced him, your gaze now cold. i've grown tired of you, so find someone else to satisfy you. »

his eyes reflected a melancholy that you had never seen in him before.

« y/n, i didn't stay 6 months with you just for sex... i like talking to you. »

your heart skipped a beat. of course, shoto, as a friend.

« that's not my case, todoroki. you were a good lay in bed, and you helped me forget the stress of college. but that's over now, get your shoes and get out. »

despite your command, he didn't make a move. his eyes analyzed you carefully, before his sigh echoed in the room.

« you found someone, didn't you ? you thought you could hear a little regret in his voice, but why ? sorry, i won't bother you anymore then. i'm happy for you. »

he got up and walked to the entrance, where his shoes were.

« i- no... »

how could he not see that you only had eyes for him ? that the other people who were just accosting you, were immediately raked ? a sincere anger went through your body now. you were angry at him now that he didn't notice your love for him.

« i love you. » you said in a quiet voice.

you saw him stop, his back was to you. fuck, that wasn't part of the plan.

« i don't want to see you anymore because i love you. because i know it will never be reciprocated. so please leave. »

he turned around just enough for you to meet his eyes, full of sorrow. a stranger might have thought it was you who had just broken his heart. or maybe you had really broken it ? you'll never know.

« no, y/n. i can try, we can try. it doesn't have to end like this. you're not like the others, i don't want to let you go. »

« i know you can't love me like i love you. don't make promises to me. »

« but i don't want to leave yo- »

the fact that he refused to leave you, to end the relationship, only gave you false hope.

« get the fuck out ! »

your sudden irritation startled him slightly. but he knew you were right.

« i-... i'm sorry y/n.- »

« stop apologizing, it's not your fault. »

« i wish it had ended differently. »

and silently he left your room, leaving you alone with your tears.

your old discussion with your roommate came back to you

« [...] he's known to break hearts this guy. but i have to admit that he's charming, anyway i care too much about my heart and my feelings to make love to him. » said your friend from the bathroom.

« i don't fall so easily, f/n. and stop it, you sound like my parents. you say laughing. »

i wish you would have told me i love you too, shoto todoroki.

[beauregardlionett]

i think i might understand the concept of home

AO3 Link

Yasha’s car had broken down on the side of the road in some tiny town she only meant to pass through. She hadn’t even read the welcome sign half-a-mile back, so gods knew where she was. Thankfully, there was a shoulder and a sidewalk, so she wasn’t stuck in the middle of traffic. She had the hood popped and stared helplessly down at the tangle of mechanics she did not understand.

Nothing was smoking, so she figured that must be a good thing.

“Need a hand?”

Yasha glanced up, catching sight of a woman standing just outside the coffee shop Yasha broke down in front of. She stood defined in the sunlight, composed of sharp lines and lean muscle, contained by planes of smooth, coffee-colored skin. She had on a simple grey sports bra under denim overalls littered with stains and distressed patches torn in random places on the legs. Her hair was in a low bun sat over what looked like an undercut all tucked messily beneath a backward cap.

Damn...she was hot.

The woman cocked an expectant eyebrow, reminding Yasha she had yet to answer.

“Oh, um...yes?”

Hot Lady smirked and stepped off the curb to stand at Yasha’s shoulder, leaning over the open hood and inspecting the mess. Yasha was busy inspecting the tanned slope of neck to bare shoulder, all of her quite a sight in the midday sunlight.

Gods, was that a tattoo on her back?

With abrupt yet easy precision, Hot Lady hauled herself up onto the lip of Yasha’s truck and shoved her hand between various pieces of metal. Startled, Yasha looked down at the engine, hoping she wouldn’t have to call emergency services for a hand lost in her car engine.

“The alternator might be shot,” Hot Lady said, squinting as she moved her hand around a little.

“What does that mean?” Yasha managed, only a little strangled.

“Means you need to get your car into a shop because you aren’t going to have much luck getting far without it.” Hot Lady removed her hand and gave a little hop back down to the pavement. She wiped her hand carelessly on her overalls and shrugged a little.

“It’s not a super challenging thing to fix, but it will take a minute. I can point you to a good garage if you need.”

“That would be very helpful. Thank you...um...”

“Beauregard,” the woman said, sticking out her hand with a grin. “Call me Beau.”

After hesitating a moment, Yasha grasped Beau’s hand and gave it a tentative shake, cheeks warm. Her face flushed even warmer when Beau raised her eyebrow again, clearly waiting for Yasha’s name.

“Yasha,” she blurted, horrid awkwardness muddying her chest. “I’m Yasha.”

“Nice to meet you, Yasha,” Beau said as she slowly took her hand back. Yasha already like the way her name sounded rolling off of Beau’s tongue - perhaps far too much for someone she just met.

“You might need to shack up somewhere for the night,” Beau said, pulling her phone from her pocket and texting someone. “Depending on how long the garage takes with your car. I haven’t seen you ‘round here before. You got a place to stay?”

“Oh...no,” Yasha managed. “I’m just passing through.”

“Well, I texted my buddy over at the garage to come get your car. He’ll be here soon. There’s only one hotel in this town, and to be honest, it sucks. My buddy Caleb moved most of his stuff out of his apartment, but he hasn’t turned the lease over yet. He got a big wig job two hours from here and they had him start early, despite the fact he still had a month on the lease. You can crash there if you want. I’m pretty sure he left his mattress.”

Yasha blinked, dazed and flabbergasted at the turn this conversation had taken.

“I...what?”

Beau looked up from her phone, fingers pausing in their rapid texting. She seemed to take in Yasha’s stunned expression and grimaced slightly.

“Sorry, that was a lot all at once.” Beau tucked her phone away and crossed her arms over her chest. Yasha recognized the defensive tactic attempting to look casual with ease. She performed that move often enough herself.

“This ‘helping’ thing isn’t my forte - more Jess’ thing. But uh...yeah. If you need a place to stay, you’ve got one. Promise there're no strings attached or anything like that.”

“But...you don’t know me.”

“True,” Beau shrugged. “But it’s not like there’s anything to steal from Caleb’s place. It’s basically an empty apartment he’s not getting anything out of. Might as well put the place to good use.”

“Okay,” Yasha said after a moment of strange quiet. What else was she supposed to say?

Beau blinked up at Yasha, then grinned, wide and delighted. “Cool.”

A few minutes later, a tow truck pulled up. Beau greeted the driver enthusiastically as Yasha watched on, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

--

“This is it,” Beau said, shoving open the door with her hip as she wrestled the key out of the lock.

Yasha followed Beau in, fingers curled tightly around the strap of her meager duffle bag. The apartment was near barren, as Beau had said. It had a small living area that faded seamlessly into a kitchenette. Down a short hallway appeared to be a bedroom and bathroom, both doors open. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. The only sign someone had recently been occupying the space was the old mattress just visible through the bedroom door and the sagging sofa in the living room.

“Sorry there’s no food in the kitchen, but there’s a store about a block from here if you’re up for a walk. I’d hang around but I have to get to a class.”

Yasha twisted to look at Beau, something bubbling up in her chest that felt a lot like gratitude and a little like something indescribable. She watched as Beau fiddled with her key ring, only realizing what was happening when Beau pulled a key off and tossed it to Yasha. She just barely managed to catch it and not make a fool of herself.

“That’s the key to the door for ya. And,” Beau pulled a crumpled, folded piece of paper from her pocket, holding it out to Yasha. “My number, in case you have questions or you need anything. I’m a night owl and an early riser, so chances are I’ll answer whenever.”

“Thank you,” Yasha warbled after a long moment, clutching the key so hard the grooves of its identity imprinted into her palm. The notches stung like she would never forget their shape. “I mean it. This is...a lot.”

Beau rubbed the back of her neck, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the worn floorboards. “It’s nothin’ really...”

“No,” Yasha insisted. “It’s a lot. Thank you.”

Beau’s gaze met Yasha’s intense stare, her bright blue eyes wide as they took in Yasha’s sincerity. A handful of seconds stretched into eternity before Beau ducked her head, rubbing at the back of her neck.

“Yeah...sure.”

Yasha was getting the impression she wasn’t the only one completely out of her depth in this situation.

“I’ll come around tomorrow with updates...bye.”

Yasha watched her duck out the door, disappearing down the hallway before she shut the door behind Beau and clicked the lock.

--

The garage had Yasha’s car fixed and ready to go after two days. Yasha was still in town three months later.

In all honesty, she’s not sure how it happened.

The night she planned to leave, Beau had swung by and insisted on seeing her off. They ended up at a diner, tucked into a booth, talking like they actually knew each other. Next thing Yasha realized, it was nearing midnight, and they were being asked to wrap up so the diner could close. The chef had called to them from the window, an older looking man with bright pink hair who gave Beau a knowing look and a wink.

Somehow, that unplanned extra night turned into months. Yasha had taken on the lease from the absent Caleb for his apartment. She found a job at the local florist, a job she quietly enjoyed. The gravity of her situation only set in after she bought sheets for the mattress.

She met Jess - real name Jester, or Genevieve, but Yasha couldn’t sure - a bubbly girl with deep blue hair and the sweetest attitude ever. Her fingertips were permanently paint stained, and she left hastily sketched dicks everywhere she went. Yasha also met the tow truck driver from the first day, a guy named Fjord. They were a weird mix of individuals, but somehow they got on just fine. They ate dinner together every Thursday night at the same bar owned by the guy who tended the bar - one of those small town things. His name was Mollymauk - Molly for short and sometimes they instead of he - with inordinately purple hair and makeup to match.

Yasha never really spent a lot of time in her apartment. She didn’t see the point, not when she had access to the florist shop, or the diner, or anywhere else with Jess, Fjord, Molly, or Beau. Especially not when Jess’ apartment she shared with Fjord was so much warmer, much more like a home.

It took three months before Beau stopped mid-sentence of a story and blinked at Yasha over their pancakes in the diner.

“This is probably a stupid question, but did you have somewhere to be?”

Yasha looked up, confused. “Right now? Uh...no? My shift at the shop doesn’t start for another three hours.”

“No, no, I meant like outside this town. You told me you were passing through, before.”

“Oh,” Yasha set down her fork and looked out the window. Her chest felt tight. That afternoon seemed like a lifetime ago - a whole other person ago. “Not really.”

“Do...uhm,” Yasha looked over at Beau to find her pushing her food around her plate awkwardly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

This was difficult for both of them. If Yasha had learned anything in her time here, it was that they both struggled to convey their emotions eloquently. But that Beau tried meant everything to Yasha. The least she could do was meet her halfway.

“I was running, and I didn’t know where or when I would stop. But I guess this place is where I’m meant to be.”

“Why were you running?” Beau stared at her, gaze intense in a way Yasha found endearing. She watched like nothing else in the world could distract her.

“I...I had a wife. And I lost her rather abruptly almost six months ago. I tried to stay for a while, to keep what we had built together, but I wasn’t strong enough. So I ran and hoped that I would find something worth staying for again before I fell off the world.”

Beau stared at Yasha openly over their half-eaten breakfast, eyes wide.

“You stayed here. Does that mean you found something here?”

Yasha looked at Beau, at her messy bun and her undercut that needed a fresh shave. She took in the puddle of syrup, slowly saturating Beau’s pancakes and the half gone pile of bacon. Beau’s cellphone sat face down on the table so her attention stayed on Yasha. She realized the baggy sweater Beau had on was one Yasha had misplaced almost a month ago. Yasha lost her breath at the butterflies that fluttered to life in her stomach.

“I think so,” Yasha breathed, tethered and unhinged all at once.

--

They didn’t talk about it, because of course they didn’t.

But two weeks after their pancake conversation, Beau invited Yasha out for a night on the town. There were only two bars with decent night life here, and Yasha had been to both of them exactly once during her time here. (The daytime trips to Molly’s bar didn’t count, of course. She had only been to their bar for the night life once.)

She met Beau in the middle, and they walked together the rest of the way.

Beau had gotten her undercut shaved tight again, but it was hidden with the way her hair spilled loose and long down her back. She had a cobalt lace crop top on - the one with the built-in bra. The way it showed off the definition of her muscles was doing things to Yasha. The black cigarette pants didn’t help either.

A few drinks and way too many EDM songs later - or maybe only a few? Yasha couldn’t tell them apart - Yasha remained upright from adrenaline alone. Somewhere between the drinks and the beat of the music, Beau pressed up against Yasha, wiry arms winding around Yasha’s neck as they danced. Yasha wasn’t much of a dancer in any regard, but she was just tipsy enough to not care.

Beau’s hips fit comfortably in the space between Yasha’s hands, and Yasha resolutely tried not to follow that train of thought. For no other reason than she didn’t want to ruin a good thing, and there was no way Beau felt the same.

Beau pushed onto her toes, shiny black boots creasing with the motion as her lace top rode up her enticing torso.

“I really want to kiss you,” Beau called over the heavy thrum of the base. Her voice nearly got lost in the din, but Yasha heard her. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t. The weight of her heart dropping into her stomach hit too heavy and real to ignore.

Fuck, she wanted to kiss Beau, too.

Yasha’s t-shirt stuck to random parts of her torso with sweat, a detail she was now hyper-aware of with how little space existed between her and Beau. The press of bodies around them was abruptly unnerving. So much so, Yasha wound an arm around Beau’s shoulders and steered them both free, ducking into the hallway that lead to the bathrooms as Yasha gasped for air.

Beau leaned her back against the wall for support, peering at Yasha with far too much clarity for someone who could barely stand upright.

“Are you okay, Yash?” Her voice was quieter now that they had moved out of the main bar, but the base still pounded like a heartbeat through the floorboards.

With more confidence than Yasha would ever possess in her life, she caged Beau in, a hand on either side of her head against the wall. As Beau stared up at her with unabashed awe, Yasha’s face warmed with flushed embarrassment.

“I want to kiss you so bad.”

“Then do it,” Beau said. It sounded like a dare, but she said it as if she were asking permission.

With a quick swoop into Beau’s space, Yasha pressed her lips to Beau’s with the barest amount of pressure. A feather-light, electric brush of a promise, a question, and an invitation. Yasha moved no closer.

Beau leaned in, and as far as kisses went, it was simple. Neither of them surged toward the other, or grappled for purchase to deepen the embrace. It was an easy press of lips, testing the waters despite the alluring tug of the tide.

Tipsy seconds later, Beau pulled back first with a soft gasp. Yasha’s eyes fluttered open, and she felt like a cheesy teenager when she realized they had closed without her knowledge.

“Do you want to do this?” Beau asked, voice soft and a little wrecked despite the chaste kiss.

Yasha, never one for many words, gave a quick nod and ducked back in. It wasn’t confidence, more like the beginning of a realization.

Beau held onto her, this time hands back around Yasha’s neck and fingers tangled deep in Yasha’s wild hair. Yasha took one hand from the wall to cup the back of Beau’s head, fingers sliding easily over the short hairs of Beau’s undercut.

It wasn’t a fireball kiss, but it tasted like the whiskey shots they had done half an hour ago. Beau’s lips were soft and a stark contrast to the way she kissed Yasha. It wasn’t falling stars and fire lit in her chest, nor was it a cosmic shift of puzzle pieces snapping into place. As before, it was a realization, a revelation of something that might have been there for a while.

Beau kissed Yasha back, and she thought about pancakes at the diner and memorizing the way Beau’s eyes scrunched when she laughed. Yasha rubbed her thumb over Beau’s jawline and Beau’s sharp grin burst to life behind her eyelids. A tug to Yasha’s hair reminded her of Beau offering to braid Yasha’s messy locks every time they all slept at Jess’ place. Beau licked into Yasha’s mouth and all at once, Yasha pictured her apartment. She saw the walls she had kept carefully bare, the sheets she had bought, but no other furniture. The echoing emptiness of a place abandoned for a better chance, and inhabited by the echo of who Yasha used to be.

And what did people say about echoes being louder in empty rooms?

Beau kissed Yasha, and Yasha realized she didn’t want to be an echo anymore.

Beau made her feel solid in a way that was undemanding. She merely held out her hand and asked for the pieces of Yasha that were real, the parts she was willing to share. She helped Yasha make them into a complete picture.

Yasha kissed Beau back with all the gentle strength she could muster through the weight of her epiphany and the whiskey.

This time, Yasha knew she found something worth staying for.

[blessednereid]

LFLLLL Prologue: Mutual Pining

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

WC: 3.5k

Taglist: @rogershoe

~

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        Lydia's House

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"Lydiaaaaaa!" You had barged into Lydia's house unannounced that afternoon. You had work that afternoon, but you called in sick, not physically, but emotionally. And only Lydia could help you. 

"LYDIA LORRAINE MARTIN!"

"Y/n, what's wrong?" Lydia's mom, Natalie, had come out of her office because of your shouts.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Martin, I didn't realize you were home. Your car wasn't in the driveway," you apologized.

"It's fine, dear. Lydia's upstairs taking a nap. You know how much of a heavy sleeper she is."

"Thank you, Mrs. Martin."

"Please, I've told you many times. Call me Natalie."

You nodded before heading upstairs, where Lydia's room was. 

You opened her door, and as you thought, she was lying on the bed, snoring and drooling. A sight you had gotten very used to since you first met her in third grade. 

"Lydia Lorraine Martin. We have a code-red!"

Immediately, Lydia jolted up from her bed and began flailing her arms in the air. She lost balance before falling off the side. 

"Oh, MY- Ugh." You went to help her sit back upright on the bed, sat next to her, and laid your head in her lap. 

"Y/n, what's wrong? Why did you wake me up?"

"We have a code red!!"

'Code reds' were what you and Lydia had when you caught real feelings for a guy. 

When you were younger and in middle school, Lydia had gotten a crush on the cutest guy in your math class. 

On Valentines Day, she wrote him a card and put it in his locker. The card said, "I think you're cute♡︎ What do you think about me?" Later that same day, she found out that almost all of the kids in your two's class had read the card. And on top of that, the guy was a huge jerk about it. 

Since then, you and Lydia vowed to never catch feelings for anyone until you were at least twenty-five. 

"Who is it, babe? What happened?" Lydia asked with a concerned tone. 

"It's Isaac."

"Your partner for the World History project?" 

"Yeah, him," you sighed. "We started getting closer, and he started talking to me, and we bonded over our moms' death, and there were carnival rides and vampires and freezy pops!"

"Woah, Woah, Woah! Slow down!"

"So basically, I did what you told me and took him to the county carnival, right? Then, he told me about his mom dying, and we talked about that, and then we went on rides and fought about their pace, and he was fine after like a two-hundred-foot drop. So then, we went on a rollercoaster, and after that, I was cold because I was wearing a light jacket."

"Okay, keep going…"

"So then he warmed me up by giving me a hug and then led me in the building, and we just hung out there until like five? Then when we were doing the slideshow, he started asking me about my room and shit, and when we were done, we watched that show I told you about, with the high school vampires."

"Oh, the babysitter one?"

"Yeah, that. So, he was actually interested. And then we just kept watching it together throughout the week since we finished the project. And then when we were presenting today, you know I have that stage fright. He just held my hand and calmed me down, and he listened to me after we were done, and he actually cared about it instead of dismissing it.

"Not that you dismiss it, Lydia." She nodded. 

"Anyways, after that, GB had to talk to us, and she ratted me out about writing his name down, and then he got slightly mad at me but not really, and then I explained. And he just told me he would see me tomorrow for our movie night…" you trailed off, debating whether you should tell her the last part.

"So that's when you realized?"

"After that, I turned away, and then he kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear, 'see you tomorrow or something like that!"

Lydia chuckled. "So you have a code red?"

"Lydia, I have a hang-out with him tomorrow. I'm not gonna be able to fucking think straight!" 

"Babe, just go and see how it goes. Maybe it's a 24-hours thing, you know? Just adrenaline. It affected you like this because you don't go out."

"Lyds, it's not like that. It's different."

"Y/n, that's what I tell myself before every hookup," she deadpanned.

"Okay, yeah. You're right. It's just a 24-hour thing."

"It's just adrenaline, babes. Nothing more, nothing less."

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  Movie Night

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'Nothing more, nothing less…"

Those were the words that kept repeating in your head as you twisted Isaac's hair around your fingers around Isaac's hair as his head rested in your lap.

"Y/n, are you okay?"

You blinked rapidly.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine!" 

"It's just, you're not watching the show?" 

"Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about something."

"Whatever you say, princess…" 

Princess. The pet name made your heart flutter, and you thought you would explode. 

"Give me a minute, please!" was all you said before picking up your phone and dashing out the room.

You headed to the bathroom and dialed Lydia's number right after texting her "Code Red Emergency."

"It's not a 24-hours thing, is it?" she said when she picked up.

"No…"

"Okay, here's what we're gonna do…"

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 Previous Day

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╭╼|══════════|╾╮

       Isaac

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

He watched you as you turned around. His nerves crawled through his spine, and he curled and unfurled his fingers before finding the confidence–, no, before finding the ability to move.

When his lips touched the side of your face, his heart was set aflame. 

'How did I just do that?' he thought. But entirely different words came out of his mouth. 

"See you," he said, and he internally pumped the air when he saw your lips curl upwards into a smile.

When he reached class, his actions had finally sunk into his mind. 

He went to his seat where his friend, Dillon Karis, sat beside him. Dillon was the only friend of Isaac, and they had known each other since middle school. 

"Dude!"

Dillon turned his head to his friend, whose urgent tone caught his attention.

"You know that girl I was telling you about?" Isaac said enthusiastically.

Dillon scoffed. "You mean the one who's been taking up all your Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday nights?

"Yeah, I remember her."

Isaac rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Dude, I think I may actually like her…"

"Holy—" Isaac cut him off.

"Shut up!"

Dillon took two breaths to calm down before speaking.

"Explain. Now!"

Isaac threw his head back.

"I don't know. It's just the way she makes me feel." He smiled. "It's like… the way my mom used to tell me about how she felt about my dad? It's weird."

"Bro, you barely know her. Are you sure?" 

"No, I'm not sure, but I think."

"Well, let me know. This is interesting. Shoulda brought some popcorn today, as I had planned," Dillon burst out laughing, and Isaac followed.

"Dude, I have to go to her house tomorrow."

"Why? I thought you already turned in the project." 

"We have our movie night," Isaac said before realizing what that might sound like to his friend. 

"Oh shit! So y'all already been going on dates?"

"No! No…" Isaac pointed his finger at his friend, signaling him to stop.

"Dude, so what are you gonna do?" 

"I don't know…"

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Movie Night

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Isaac was now highly flustered as he laid his head in your lap. You didn't bring up the kiss, so he assumed he either made you uncomfortable or you didn't like him enough to care. 

He looked at your face to see if there were any signals or indications, but he saw that you were completely zoned out. 

"Y/n, are you okay?"

You blinked before saying, "Oh yeah, I'm fine." 

Isaac raised his eyebrows before turning his attention back to the television. 

When you dashed out the room with little explanation, Isaac took his emotional matters into his own hands. He had decided to get rid of his feelings, sure that they were unrequited.

He headed out of your room and knocked on Stiles' door. 

"Come in!" he heard faintly, and he opened the door.

"Isaac, what's up?" Stiles had barely looked up from his work.

"I know we don't know each other that well, but I need some advice, and I figured that you probably know a lot about girls…"

"Not really, but I'm flattered you would think that. Please come in!"

Isaac stepped into the room and sat on Stiles' bed.

"Is this fine?" to which Stiles nodded.

"So, Isaac. Tell me what's going on," Stiles said before clasping his hands together. 

Isaac took multiple deep breaths. He was about to ask your brother how to get rid of his feelings for you. Who does that?

"I have a crush… on this girl. And I know that she doesn't like—" 

"You know, or you think?" 

"I think, but she's given no sign of liking me…"

"Okay, continue."

"She doesn't like me. And I was wondering if you knew if there was anything I could do to… get rid of the feelings I have…"

"Oh boy. Isaac, I wish I knew. I'm in that same position. However! I wouldn't tell you if I did know. Because you never know, right? Unless they've told you that they don't like you, you don't know for sure. And even then, it could happen in the future."

That was not the advice Isaac was hoping for, preferring to put himself out of his misery before he could get in it. 

"Alright, thanks, Stiles."

"No problem, bud!" 

Isaac walked back to your room, where you were laid down on your back. 

"Hey, where did you go?" 

"Nowhere, I just needed to… uh.. get some air." 

You squint your eyes, and even Isaac wasn't convinced by his lie, but he didn't say anything else before he laid beside you. 

"Lydia is having a party next Saturday. You should come."

"Oh, I don't think—"

"Please, Isaac? It'll be good for you to get out of your house like Mrs. GB said."

He couldn't resist the tug on his heart when you flashed your pouting eyes, and he had to give in.

"Fine, I'll see what I can do. That's not a promise." 

"Yay!" You exclaimed before pressing a kiss to his forehead. The action made Isaac's heart race, and all he wanted to do at that moment was kiss you. 

In fact, it was all he thought of for the next few minutes. 

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Isaac's Daydream

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"Love?" 

"Yes, babe?" you responded to him. 

"This is the spot. Stop going ahead of me." 

You mouthed an "Oh" before laying down on the blanket he set by the flowerbed. 

"So, whose house are we breaking into right now, Mr. Lahey?" you teased. You and Isaac were sitting in the backyard of a foreign house you had never seen, but you followed Isaac anyways.

"Yours."

You scoffed a 'what' as you had never seen the house in your life.

"Mines. Ours." He smirked.

Your face of pleasant surprise made his racing heart slow, as he thought you wouldn't like it. 

"This is our house?" 

"Well, it was my grandparent's house. They left it to me when they died. They said I can only get it when I turn 18, and now since we're together, It's our house."

You leaped onto his lap and kissed him feverishly. 

"This is the best surprise ever!"

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Reality

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"Isaac!" You yelled, and Isaac didn't know what you had said before. 

"Sorry! I just zoned out."

"It's not a problem."

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You

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"So, do you want to watch a scary movie?" 

You actually weren't planning on doing any of what Lydia had suggested you do, which was to just come outright and tell him you like him. 

Instead, you chose to suffer in silence, thinking there was no way possible that Isaac liked you back. And even if he had, you two would be better off as friends… Right?

At least that is what you chose to tell yourself.

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Isaac Leaves

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When the movie was over, Isaac went home, and you prepared for bed. 

That night you dreamt of things you wanted in your life that you couldn't have. 

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Your Dream

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"Hey, Isaac?"

You two were curled up together on a couch watching a movie, much like your reality. However, a few things were different.

"What are we having for dinner?"

"Babe, we're in a hotel, and the only restaurants have a pre-set menu. If you want food, you either get what they have, or we Postmates." 

"But neither sounds good. I want Pasta!" 

He sighed. "Then lets Postmates pasta, babe."

"But I want you to make it," you pouted. 

"Okay, how about this." You turned to face him to hear his proposition. 

"I get you dessert with the food they have here, and I make you pasta tomorrow?" 

You smiled and wrapped an arm around his neck.

You hummed before saying, "That sounds perfect," and he kissed you with a burning passion.

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

       Morning

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

"Y/N! WAKE UP!" Stiles woke you up from your dream. 

"WHERE'S THE FIRE?" You flailed around before falling off the bed. 

Stiles chuckled loudly. 

"MIECZYSŁAW STILINSKI!

"IT'S A FUCKING SUNDAY!" 

You groaned loudly before grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him, effectively knocking him down but not ceasing his laughter.

"Relax, Relax! Dad's taking us out for breakfast."

You rolled your eyes heavily. "Ugh, I hate you. GO! Let me change!"

"Wait! Wait! I have a question…"

"What?" 

"What's going on between you and Lahey?"

You looked down and away from him. "Nothing," you murmured. 

When you looked back at him, his eyes were narrowed, and his forehead was crinkled. 

"I don't believe you one bit."

Your face heated. 

"There's nothing going on, Stiles."

He scoffed. "We may be fraternal, but we're still twins, Y/n. Whatever, I don't like him anyway."

"Why not, Sti?"

He moved his face closer to yours, and you craned your head back for air. 

"Because I'm your brother, I'm never gonna like any guy you date. None of them are worthy of my sister."

"Well, you don't have to hate him because nothing is going on."

"Hmmm... Sure," he stated simply before walking out. 

You got ready, wearing an off-shoulder baby blue top that was slightly… starchy in texture, as well as a pink plaid miniskirt and black slip-on sneakers. 

When you got downstairs, your dad and Stiles sighed a heavy "finally," and you mocked offense. 

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Waffle House

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

You got in the car and began driving. You looked out the window enjoying all the sights while Stiles tried to coax your dad into talking about cases. 

Your dad turned and pulled into the parking lot of the Waffle House.

You sat at the counter and talked until someone came to get your drinks order. 

"So, Stiles, when are you going to bring a date home?" your dad asked with a squint. 

"Not anytime soon, He's still stuck on Lydia."

Stiles blushed. "Well, I mean, It's working. She knows who I am. "

"No, she doesn't. But… I do know this girl—" Stiles cut you off. 

"If it's not Lydia, then no, thank you. I'm stuck on her like white on rice."

Your dad interjected your argument. "Stiles, you sound like a stalker. Normally, we arrest people like you."

"Okay, Let's change the subject. Y/n, wanna tell dad about Isaac or should I?" 

You rolled your eyes. "Why should I? There's nothing going on?"

"Wait, who's Isaac?" your dad said while whirling his hand beside his head. 

"He was my partner for a project I had for World History."

Stiles laughed. "We presented on Friday. What have you guys been doing in your room?"

Your dad's eyes widened. "Why is he in your room?" 

"We just watch movies, Dad! We do nothing else!" 

"I highly doubt that. In fact, why don't I ask Isaac right now?" 

You blanched. "What do you mean?"

"He's coming up behind us," he said, looking past your head. 

You began choking when you saw him in your peripheral version. 

"Can I get you something t- Stiles!" Isaac popped up from behind you and began to ask for your drink orders. 

"Hey, Isaac," you said as you turned around. 

"Hey, Y/n!" His intonation was normal, his facial expression was off. 

╭╼|══════════|╾╮

Isaac

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

"What do you want to drink?" he asked, though his focus was on your dad's squinted gaze pointed directly at him. 

"Can I get a coffee?" Noah spoke up first. Isaac jotted down his order.

Stiles followed. 

"I'll get an Arnold Palmer!" he said while raising his hand. 

"Is that on the menu?" Isaac asked confusedly.

"No, but it's half of a lemonade, half of an iced tea in one glass."

"Okay… Arnold Palmer." 

"Y/n," the lovestruck boy said with a smile. "What about you?" 

The corners of your mouth turned up. "It's not on the menu, but is there an option for an iced coffee?" 

"Uh, I'm sure there is." He knew there wasn't, but he also knew you didn't like hot coffee much. 

"Are you sure? I don't want to--"

"It's fine, Y/n," he reassured.  

He walked away and headed to the kitchen to tell the cooks the drink order. 

"I need an iced coffee, a regular coffee, and A half-and-half lemonade-iced tea. Please," he added. 

Isaac glanced outside the kitchen window and gazed at you softly. He admired the way your eyes glimmered in the sun and how your hair bounced with every gesture you made. From this, he began to appreciate how amazing your hair looked and how the light refracted off of it. 

He smiled a lopsided grin as he watched the way your lips move. He imagined how they would feel on his. Soft. Smooth. He had the notion that you were probably experienced in that field, more so than he was. 

No. He couldn't imagine that. When he thought about the things he just thought, it sounded creepy and perverted. Besides, there was no way that you liked him back, so even thinking about it would just lead to further heartbreak. 

He grabbed your table's drinks and walked back, trying to ignore your smile because he couldn't stop the race that his heart ran whenever he saw it.

"Alright, here are your drinks."

"Isaac, can I talk to you outside?" asked Stiles.

"I'm actually working, so I can't do that. But, I can take your orders."

He jotted down each of your orders and went back to the kitchens.

╭╼|══════════|╾╮

            You

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

"Stiles, I swear to God, I'm gonna hurt you."

"Not my fault you're over here pining after Lahey but won't do anything about it."

"Up your ass and off your high horse, Stiles!" You did your best to be quiet with your statement, but your dad still heard. 

"Hey, hey!"

"Sorry, Dad," you and Stiles said simultaneously. 

You watched the cooks prepare the food in front of you, but you hoped to see Isaac somehow, even though he was in the back.

You thought about his messy hair and how it felt in-between your fingers... How his eyes dilated with each smile, and the tiny specks of green in those ocean blue eyes were always able to calm you down.

You noticed how his lips were never chapped and how his cheeks looked like apples when he smiled, and the one dimple that was prominent in those moments as well. 

You wondered if this was how Lydia felt for the boy that caused their entire concept of code reds or if you began to feel something much more for the boy with the shy demeanor and quiet voice. 

When Isaac came back, you thought about how you could try to confess your feelings. But, you knew that if Isaac was barely willing to talk to you for a long time, it would be a snowball's chance in hell that he liked you the same way. 

"Alright, here's your waffles and your hash-browns, Y/n. Your sandwich, Sheriff, and your All-Star breakfast, Stiles."

"Thank you, Isaac," you said with a smile.

He turned to leave before you called out. 

"Um, Isaac!" He spun around on his heel at your calling with a questioning look on his face. 

He walked back towards you, prepared to write something else down on his order pad. 

"Movie night, tomorrow?"

He smiled. "Yeah, sure." 

"Dorota, you cannot tell me you do not like him."

"Mieczysław, I do not." 

Your dad cut in. "Sweetheart, and if you do?"

"I don't. Can we just leave it at that?" 

~

[cosmic-affinities]

Intense and Passing Infatuation

Summary: Flirting with your crush who doesn't take it seriously? No harm in that right? Right?

 Well, Izuku does it anyway. Until the day he said he wouldn't anymore.

(A very self-indulgent bkdk fic that has a tiny bit of past krbk, totally not a thing in the fic. A plot device at most!)

Read it on AO3 Here.

Crush: (noun) an intense and usually passing infatuation.

That’s all it was.

Just a crush.

Izuku was sure of it.

Nevermind Uraraka who said her psychology professor had told them a crush can only last about four months, after that it’s considered being ‘in love’ he was sure love was much too strong of a word.

Nevermind the last year which Izuku spent flirting with his Kacchan, something no one else would dare call him, while also never getting the right response.

“Morning love!” Izuku planted a sweet kiss on Katsuki’s cheek, a normal sight for their friends given the fact that they had witnessed it every day for the last nine months.

“Hey Deku, sleep in again?” Katsuki barely reacted to the kiss now, Izuku loved and hated it. He felt it was progress, just not in quite the right way.

“You mean waking up at the same time I do every Tuesday? It stops being ‘sleeping in’ once I’ve done it for months. And what about you Kacchan? Did you wake up early again today?” Katsuki rolled his eyes at the shorter man’s sass, he should’ve known where that was going.

Their friends all sat around them and waited, they knew if they tried to interject before their morning exchange they would simply be ignored.

“Looking good Kacchan seems like that campus gym treats you well.”

“Not too shabby yourself, nerd.” Katsuki quickly supplied, letting his signature smirk fall into place.

Izuku’s heart fluttered and he smiled back. If only the blonde was serious.

Just a crush. That’s all it was.

Finally, their friends could join the conversation they had waited out the morning kiss and compliment, they would now be acknowledged.

They had aptly claimed a table for eight, a seat for each of them, and two empty ones to house their enormous bags that came with life on a college campus. Sero and Kaminari always sat together, being roommates had been great for both of them. Shinsou and Uraraka sat beside them, knowing they might very well be the only sane ones at the entire table. Lastly, Katsuki and Izuku sat next to each other, across the table from Kaminari and Sero.

Their conversation carried on as normal, eventually, Katsuki turned and noticed Izuku looking at him.

Katsuki simply jutted his chin out questioningly, knowing Izuku would understand his unsaid remark.

“Oh, nothing. Just waiting until you’ll see me as your love interest.” Katsuki really should know the drill by now.

Katsuki smirked once again making Izuku weak in the knees, boy was he glad he was sitting.

“Trust me Deku, you’ll know if you’re my love interest. For now, I’m alright.” Izuku knew the drill too, it was rejection every time. Even so, he couldn’t help but deflate ever so slightly.

“Can we not discuss love interests at the breakfast table? I am trying to eat here.”

“Oh you can tune us out Sero, you should be used to it by now.”

“Or, I have an even better idea! Since it’s been nearly a year you could just, ya know, give up.”

Sero’s statement earned him a few dramatic gasps.

“Blasphemy!”

“Mutiny!” Uraraka jumped in, unprompted.

“Treason!”

“Ugh, they even got you, Kami? I thought Midoriya and Uraraka were the only ones invested in this.” Kaminari shrugged in response, he enjoyed the fun they had.

“Hey, you can’t blame him for trying. You gotta give him that at least.” Shinsou finally spoke up, he could appreciate Izuku’s patience and persistence even if he didn’t know why he used his energy on Katsuki.

“Yes! Exactly thank you Shinsou! I am just going to have to keep trying!”

“I’m not gonna stop you. Who knows I might even fall for ya one day.” Katsuki smirked along with his remark.

“I’ll be waiting.” Izuku winked at him, enjoying the ease of their interaction, even if it was all one-sided.

That’s all it was. Just a silly crush.

“What will it take for you to actually quit?” Sero, it seemed, wasn’t quite finished.

“I’ll quit when Kacchan finds himself falling in love with someone, until then you will all witness my persistence.”

“Deku aren’t you late for your TA spot in critical data analytics?” Katsuki cut in suddenly.

“Ah shit thanks, love! I’ll see you later!”

“No need to thank me sweetheart I only remind you every fucking Tuesday and Thursday.”

Katsuki called Izuku a handful of playful nicknames, the most dangerous of the bunch being ‘sweetheart’. Izuku didn’t know when it started and could only hope for it not to stop.

Katsuki didn’t seem to mind the playful flirting, Izuku would even go as far as to say that he enjoyed it and participated, but he also doesn’t take it seriously. He knew that Katsuki was just playing along.

It was a dangerous game that he couldn’t bring himself to stop playing, after all:

It was just a crush.

“Oh, you’re so sweet but I’m sorry I’m going to have to say no. I’m really not looking for something right now,” Izuku spoke to the taller boy in front of him. Izuku knew he was really sweet and, he can admit when he meets an attractive person but the red and white-haired man had one issue, he wasn’t Katsuki.

The taller man nodded and turned to walk away, leaving Izuku more relieved than he thought he would be.

“He was cute.”

“AH! Kacchan! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” Izuku planted a swift peck on Katsuki’s cheek, they hadn’t seen each other all day.

“Whatever, you just get scared too fucking easily. Anyway who was the dude? You totally could’ve gone out with him.” Izuku sighed, he didn’t want to explain that he turned down the critical data analytics hottie, Todoroki, because he was already crushing on someone but what other reason was there.

“Oh, he’s a student in the class that I TA for, I’m sure there’s some kind of rule against that or something. Plus he’s been with, like, at least three people I know, he was probably just looking for a new piece.”

Katsuki shrugged in response, seemingly accepting Izuku’s reasoning. The pair walked towards their meeting spot where they were going to join the rest of their friends for pizza.

“So how’s that crush coming?” Katsuki smirked at Izuku, the only thing that kept his knees from swaying was the sheer disbelief at the question he was asked. He quickly pulled himself together to answer.

“Well, if you must know, he’s been trying to pimp me out. Just recently he tried to get me to go out with someone!”

Katsuki hummed in response, “It’s been around a year I’ve heard. Is that right?”

“I hate to say it but I can’t disagree, a year sounds about right. I’d like to say I’m making progress but he might not be so inclined to agree.”

“I’ve heard through the shitty grapevine gossip central that our school is that progress is different for everyone but he seems to be making some of his own, although I’ve heard he’s still not too sure himself.”

Izuku wanted to gawk at Katsuki’s nonchalance, he held it together though.

“Is that so? Huh, if that's true it might be time I tell him about you, love.”

“Oh sweetheart, I’m sure he’s aware, probably just fucking confused as to why you keep going.”

Izuku stopped their walk, he knew they had just been teasing but he wanted to make sure the part he was serious about came through. Katsuki noticed a few steps later and stopped and made his way back, facing Izuku.

“I’m going to keep trying until you are taken.”

“And when that happens?”

“Then it’s my time to stop.”

Katsuki didn’t respond, he simply looked at Izuku. The fierceness of his gaze made warmth blossom on the back of Izuku’s neck.

“You can’t look at me like that. I’m just gonna kiss that expression right off your face.” Izuku whispered, he was trying to lighten the atmosphere.

“Why don't you.” Katsuki’s expression changed into a smirk, almost as if he knew the effect it had on Izuku. Instinctually, Izuku’s eyes flickered down to Katsuki’s pink lips, almost tempting him to follow through.

“You are one cruel man, Kacchan.” Izuku snapped himself out of his trance and stepped back before turning and continuing their journey to their friends.

It was just a crush, even if everyone knew about it.

The group enjoyed their night together, they all needed it after the month they had been having with school. The end of the night came much too quickly for everyone.

After whatever moment they had on their way to the restaurant, Izuku was ready to lie down. He paid his portion of the bill and planned on sneaking out, knowing he would see everyone in the morning, he had no such luck.

“Where are you sneaking off to sweetheart? You didn’t even say bye to the rest of the shit heads.”

“As if I won’t see everyone in less than twelve hours back on campus! I was just going to get home and grade papers for Tuesday.”

“You could’ve at least come and said bye to me, you’ve barely said a damn thing to me tonight.”

“Well then, bye love I’ll see you tomorrow. Get back safe and don’t forget to water your plants, I know you hate when they start to wilt.”

“Now that’s better, I’ll see you tomorrow, you damn nerd.”

Izuku finally made it out, he let out a long sigh. He was in much too deep with this man.

Honestly, it wasn’t just a crush.

Kirishima Eijiro.

Apparently, that was the name of the guy in Izuku’s seat on Thursday. He had woken up later, as usual, and made his way to the table everyone had breakfast. As he approached though, he noticed his seat was not empty. He was going to go straight to Katsuki for his morning kiss but even from far away, he could see the look on his face.

He brought with him Izuku’s time to stop.

Izuku quickly veered into the nearest bathroom to collect himself, he had no clue what to do. Once he felt better he made his way back towards the table.

“Hey Shinsou, I’m going to move your bag over so I can sit.” Izuku kept his voice low, he didn’t need any extra attention, Uraraka had already shot him a sympathetic look.

Once he was seated his friends greeted him.

“Morning guys.”

“Oh hey! We haven’t met, I’m Kirishima!”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Midoriya.” Izuku felt his phone vibrate, Uraraka had sent him a text. “On and off ex-boyfriend of baku's”

Izuku’s eyes widened and he stilled, he needed to think of something quick there was no way he could stay there. He luckily caught a glimpse of the time.

“Oh shit, I have to go. I don’t want to be late for uh, um... Fuck, critical data analytics, that's what it is. I’ll see you guys later!” Izuku grabbed his stuff and quickly left, that was the first time all semester that he had remembered on his own.

Now, there was no way Katsuki could know that it was anything more than just a crush.

Izuku held strong for two days, for two days he went to the table and saw the clear entrancement written all over Katsuki’s face whenever Kirishima spoke, he never once kissed Katsuki’s cheek in Kirishima’s presence and they were never far behind each other. There was no more sweetheart and love, just the bare pleasantries Izuku could muster.

After his two days he couldn’t handle it, he began going straight to his classes, catching up with his friends in their rooms. It was the first time he and Uraraka had time alone when everything truly went to shit.

“Look, they were best friends in high school and started dating halfway through, they were on and off for months when they went to different schools until they were finally done for good, a little while before you met him. Now that Kirishima is here, I really don’t know what’s going to happen.” Izuku took a calming breath before he responded.

“I always said if he found someone I would stop. I stopped and he doesn’t even care so everything’s fine. Why don't we review for your math exam? I made flashcards for you.”

Uraraka was suspicious, but she went along with him. The pair spent the rest of the night studying and Izuku continued to avoid their table.

He had to figure out how to get it back to just a crush.

Turns out that staying in your dorm gets quite boring. With the amount of extra work Izuku had offered to take on he had better win “TA of the Year” if it was a thing. Nearly two weeks had gone by with Izuku’s new schedule, he never did like change. He finally had his first misstep.

“OI Deku!”

Shit.

Two weeks of carefully planned avoidance, out the window.

“Oh hey, I didn’t even see you two.” Of course, the first time he interacts with Katsuki after two weeks, Kirishima would be with him.

“Nice to see you again dude!” Of course, he just had to be super nice too.

“Yeah yeah. Listen Kirishima I gotta talk to Deku real quick, go ahead I’ll meet you guys later.”

Izuku’s eyes widened, he wasn’t ready to be with Katsuki alone!

Kirishima nodded and walked away, leaving Izuku and Katsuki standing in the middle of the hallway.

“Where the fuck have you been? I’ve barely seen you in the last two weeks.”

“Oh um, I’ve just been busy with teaching, Professor Aizawa has me leading classes now.” Izuku held back the urge to keep talking, if he started he probably wouldn’t stop until he said something that he didn’t mean to.

“Tch, that’s never stopped you before, hasn’t the guy been giving you a shit load of work all semester?”

“Well yeah, but he has me writing lesson plans and leading lectures now, even if he takes over most of the time. I’ve just been trying to keep up, doesn’t leave time for much else.” He can only make so much stuff up.

“But you always leave time fo- whatever. When is the guy gonna lay off?”

“Uh not sure, probably closer to finals so I’ll have time to study?” Izuku glanced at his watch and noticed he only had two minutes to make it to critical data analytics. “Ah shit, I’m running late I have to go.” Izuku quickly turned and continued making his way to his class, but he didn’t get too far before he heard the last thing Katsuki had to say.

“I’m supposed to be the one that says you’re running late.”

Izuku fought the urge to turn around, it would only give him hope he couldn’t afford.

Just a crush, just a crush, just a crush. It became a mantra.

Izuku was finally let out of his last class for the day, he really hated Thursdays, they were long and drawn out, and seeing Katsuki hadn’t helped like it normally would.

“Deku wait up!” Speak of the devil.

Izuku watched, frozen, as Katsuki made his way towards him. Completely and utterly alone.

“Kac- um Bak- what's up?” Izuku could barely stutter his way through a greeting, he seriously wasn’t prepared for this.

Katsuki met him with a strange look, before deciding to respond.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“No, I don’t think so? I have my bag…” Of course Izuku wasn’t, he had to keep himself from planting a swift kiss on Katsuki’s cheek every time he saw him, he had to.

“What the hell Deku?! You go MIA for two weeks, and when I finally see you again it’s like everything is different! What the fuck happened?”

“What do you mean? I told you I’ve just been busy.” He knew exactly what Katsuki was talking about, he just couldn’t bring himself to admit it.

“You know exactly what I mean! Two weeks ago you came and had breakfast with me every day. You called me love and Kacchan and every time you saw me you gave me a kiss! Now you will barely even fucking talk to me! So let me ask again, what the fuck happened?”

Izuku felt like he could barely breathe, what was he supposed to do? He wasn't ready for any of this.

He tried to calm himself with a deep breath, he couldn’t just stand there and act dumb no matter how much he wanted to.

“Look, I-”

“I don’t want to hear whatever excuse you’re trying to come up with. The truth Deku.”

“I always told you that, when the time came, I would stop all of that. Well, the time came and I wasn’t ready so I had to do what I had to do.”

“Now you just aren’t making sense. What the fuck do you mean stop? Who said you had to stop?”

“I did. I always said when you find yourself inevitably falling for someone else I would stop. Now you have Kirishima and I stopped.”

“Wha- What the fuck is that supposed to-”

“Kacchan! It doesn’t take a genius to see the way you look at him. It’s, it’s the same way I looked at you when I started to fall in love.”

Wait.

Shit.

That came out of his mouth.

That was never supposed to leave his brain.

Fuck.

Now there was no way he could get anyone to believe that it was only a crush.

Katsuki wasn’t faring much better. He seemed frozen, although Izuku couldn’t pinpoint why. Obviously hearing that someone is in love with you will do that but he couldn’t be sure if it was shock, disgust, or something entirely different in its own right.

He didn’t want to find out.

“Uh, I have to go, bye.”

“No! Deku wait!”

That’s all Izuku heard before he took off, he could handle a lot but flat-out rejection was not a part of that list.

Katsuki knew it was never ‘just a crush.’

Izuku simply shut himself away, he was luckily done for the week, having strategically chosen to have a long weekend while making his schedule. He emailed Aizawa the grades for the quiz he administered and decided that was enough. He didn’t want to try and explain himself to anyone or have anyone pity him.

Therefore, when he heard the knock on his dorm room door, he assumed his roommate simply forgot his key.

He was wrong.

He opened the door to see a more composed-looking Katsuki. He could only hope his eyes weren’t rimmed with red.

“What are you doing here?” Izuku’s voice was soft, he was just glad his arm didn’t instinctually slam the door, that would not have gone well.

“What am I doing here? You’re seriously going to ask what the fuck I’m doing here?” Izuku noted that Katsuki seemed more frantic than anything, maybe his composed demeanor was for show.

Izuku took in a breath and moved aside, gesturing for Katsuki to come in, this wasn’t something an unfortunate bystander needed to witness.

Once safely inside his room, the pair waited, they waited for someone to start talking, for some answers.

Katsuki finally snapped.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Right because everything else I have done was specifically to hide the fact.” Izuku hadn’t meant to sound so teasing but he had nothing else.

“You know what I mean!”

“Okay, I didn’t say anything because… well because I didn’t want anything to change! As much as the consistent rejection hurt at least it was lowball, we were still friends! We still hung out! I was still allowed to shamelessly flirt with you! I was actually planning on telling you but then everything with Kirishima, and well I just couldn’t bring myself to ruin tha-”

“What the fuck are you talking about? That's the second time you have thrown him into this, this is between us why are you bringing him up?”

“Come on, Uraraka told me you guys were a thing, and she told me that you guys broke it off because you went to different schools, now that's not an issue anymore! The way you look at him shows how much he means to you.”

“Deku, he was my best friend for years that I hadn’t seen for about two years. I was shocked to see him and I seriously forgot how good it was before we dated!” Katsuki steeled himself with a breath.

“Look Deku, since he’s been here Kirishima has been up my ass about what the fuck was going on with me. He hadn’t seen me for nearly two years and he knew something was up with me. That day we ran into you outside of your class, he told me something. He told me that he was going to ask me out and then didn’t. All because of the way I reacted when we ran into you. He said I was more myself for the minute he saw me with you than I had been for the previous two weeks. Now, what the fuck does that tell you Deku?”

Izuku stood in shock, he really didn’t know what to say. There was a short pause before Izuku began to speak again.

“I don’t kn-”

“Nope. I don’t want to hear any bull shit. It took me way too fucking long to realize all of this and that was after someone told me to my face that I need to figure out my shit with you. Right now I just need to know if… if I’m too late.”

Izuku’s knees came out from under him, he fell backward onto his bed, thankful that he didn’t crack open his skull.

He was having a hard time understanding. There was no way Katsuki meant what Izuku thought he meant. No, that would mean… well, too much for Izuku to think through.

“Deku…?”

“I’m sorry. I think I’m just having a hard time understanding what you’re telling me.”

Katsuki used all of his remaining restraint to not grab the man in front of him and shake him until everything fell into place.

“Deku, what I’m telling you is that I was fucking wrong. I thought that everything between us was purely friendly and it was just a fun thing we did. I’m telling you that every time I turn someone down the reason in my mind is you. I am telling you that, if you will still consider me after every single shitty thing that has happened, I want to be with you. I am telling you that what I feel for you isn’t just some stupid fucking crush. Even if it took shitty hair telling me that I look at you like you hung the stars for me to realize it.”

Izuku blinked a few tears from his eyes. There was no room for misunderstanding and both of them knew it. Izuku couldn’t even think of a proper response, he simply threw himself forward and wrapped himself tightly around Katsuki.

Katsuki let out a shaky breath and returned the hug, basking in the warmth he had been missing since Izuku had been away.

“You know what nerd? Now it’s my turn.” Katsuki swiftly leaned forward and placed a small kiss on Izuku’s cheek, mirroring the action Izuku had done plenty of times before.

As Katsuki pulled back Izuku faced him properly, letting his gaze slip down to Katsuki’s pink lips, silently asking for permission. Katsuki wasted no time, they had done enough of that already.

It was perfect, their lips fit together better than puzzle pieces. It was instant gratification, a satisfaction so great, they were keen to never stop. Alas, they did need to breathe.

Once they pulled apart Izuku looked Katsuki up and down, in a way that gave him the chills.

“It took over a year of shameless flirting, cute nicknames, and trying to fend off anyone who had eyes but damn are you so worth it.”

Katsuki flushed darkly, something he wasn’t accustomed to doing, and simply stared back.

“To answer your question, of course, I’d still consider you. As long as you’re my ‘love’ I’ll consider you.”

“I will be your ‘love’ as long as you are my ‘sweetheart’ how does that sound?”

“That sounds like the perfect thing for the two most stubborn people on this planet. Does that mean I get to finally say that you’re my boyfriend?”

“Well either you say it or I will, every shitty extra in this place is going to know where they stand, let me tell you it is nowhere near you.”

Izuku smiled, he could get used to this. In response he kissed his new boyfriend, letting out a pleased hum due to how familiar the feeling was starting to become already.

Izuku couldn’t believe he ever thought it was only a crush.

[mcfiddlestan]

WinterFrost Single Dads AU

Hey, ya'll. Told ya I was working on this thing. I've got about six chapters done, but I'm not ready to post it to AO3 just yet. One big reason for that is I don't have a title yet. So I thought I'd post a couple of chapters, let ya'll get a feel for it, then take any suggestions you might have.

Just a small note: I tend to name fics after song titles that inspired the story or somehow fit with the plot.

Anyhoo...here's the first chapter. I *might* post the second tomorrow. We'll see how the response to this goes.

xoxo, La

Pairing: Loki x Bucky Barnes (there are others past and future, but I'm not giving them away just yet)

Rating: M

Word count: 1,775

Summary: Loki is living a great life as a Manhattan lawyer and constantly partying with Tony Stark, his best friend. Loki's life before he came to New York more than a decade ago is a mystery for those close to him. But it's all about to come to light when he gets a call from someone in his past.

Bucky is just trying to catch a break. A few hookups with a fellow soldier led to a quickie marriage and baby -- and two years later, a quick divorce. His daughter is now eight years old and the light of his life. But he can't seem to get his shit together. Struggling to find a job and keep a hold on his sobriety, it's a one-night stand that gives him the kick in the ass he needs to be the man his daughter believes he is.

Warnings: Mature language and situations, some drug use, and talk about addiction.

Chapter 1

The sound of his front door opening and closing pulled Loki from a deep sleep. So deep, it took him a moment to remember where he was and how he knew that was his front door. His eyes opened slowly, once, twice, and then again, to nothing but the darkness of what he was sure was his bedroom. Then he felt the pounding, incessant, pulsing around his entire head. Damn migraines. Loki let out a low groan, thought fuck it, and buried his face deeper into his pillow. Moments later, the door to his bedroom pushed open.

“Rise and shine,” a deep voice sang.

Loki grumbled at the familiar voice, and slowly, he turned his body, rolling onto his back. “Why are you always so chipper in the morning? Oh, for Norn’s sake!” He threw a pillow over his face as the curtains pulled open and let the blinding daylight flood the room. “Close them! I’ve got a damned migraine!”

“Ooh. So sorry, Mr. Friggasson. There’s a cup of tea on the nightstand. Would you like me to get you some water and a couple of ibuprofen?”

Another groan sounded through the room as Loki forced himself to sit up. “Yes, please,” he answered as he rubbed at his face before reaching for the two pillows to prop them up behind him. In his sleepy haze, he remembered to pull the bedsheet over his lap to keep his modesty. Loki reached out for the teacup first, cupping it in his large hand as he took a gentle sip. “Mmm, perfect. Thank you, Fandral. And, for the thousandth time, please stop calling me Mr. Friggasson.” He sipped again, ignoring Fandral’s giggle as he rummaged through Loki’s closet. “What time is it?”

“A quarter to eleven.”

Loki sputtered into his tea. “Quarter to eleven? Why did you let me sleep so late? I have meetings today.” Loki hurriedly set his drink down and started to rise, gathering the sheet to wrap around him. Fandral was suddenly there, nudging Loki back into the bed, “Relax, Loki. You’re fine. Your early meeting was canceled, the board meeting at the Tower was pushed to Thursday, and Mr. Stark canceled your lunch meeting.”

“Cancelled? Why?” Loki settled back in the bed, rubbing at his neck. “He didn’t say. But he left the message for me before three am, and there was a lot of noise in the background. So, take a guess.”

Loki snorted softly. “That’s your boss, Fanny. Don’t judge.”

“You’re my boss. Mr. Stark only signs the checks,” Fandral said through a smile as he laid out a pair of pants and a shirt on a chair in the corner for Loki to wear for the day. “Once the morning meeting was canceled, I thought I’d let you rest a little longer since you didn’t have to rush into the office.”

“Thanks,” Loki muttered from behind his cup.

Fandral gave him a nod and turned to head around the corner towards the master bathroom.

“Any other messages?” Loki called as he set the teacup back on the nightstand. He sat back, his face contorting in pain, willing the migraine to ease up. He made a mental note to see an optometrist already.

“Yes, a few. Natasha called. She got a lead on the security break from a couple of months ago, I guess? She said she’d have a report for you on the improvements she’s already made with F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Fandral stepped out with a small white bottle in one hand, a glass of water in the other. He handed the water to Loki before popping open the bottle and dropping two white tablets in Loki’s open palm. “Also, someone’s been trying to get a hold of you all morning. He’s called four times already. No real message, just ‘need to speak to Loki urgently.’ Someone named Thor.”

Loki went still. He swallowed down the pills and water in his mouth, watching Fandral’s retreating back. A million different questions ran through Loki’s mind, but he couldn’t decide on just one to ask, nor would Fandral be able to answer any of them, judging by what he’d just said. Fandral returned from the bathroom, and Loki hoped he didn’t look as panicked as he felt. “Someone named Thor, you say?”

Fandral, staring at his phone, made a noise of agreement. “Sounded foreign, but I couldn’t place the accent.”

“Norwegian.” Loki shook his head dismissively when Fandral looked at him with a quizzical look. “Did he say how to get a hold of him?”

“Yes. At least, I have the number for you.” Fandral lowered his phone, eyed Loki, who’d gone much paler in the last thirty seconds. “Are you all right?”

Not in the slightest. “Yes. Uh, Fandral, I’m going to take a shower.” Loki rose from the bed, his migraine still there but hardly forgotten. He held the bed sheet tight at his waist and walked around Fandral. “Listen, if he calls again, tell him I will call him back as soon as I’m free. If he doesn’t, when you hear the water stop, give me twenty minutes, then put the call through.”

Fandral frowned at Loki as he followed him with his eyes. “Sure, boss. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“Fandral. I’m fine. Will you order some food? Get me a sandwich, please. Something toasted, turkey.” Distracted, Loki didn’t wait for Fandral to confirm. He walked into his bathroom and started the water in the shower, then moved to the sink. He stood before the mirror for a moment, thinking, fretting, irritated. Why would Thor be calling him after all this time? What could he possibly have to say to Loki? After more than ten years of no communication, Loki felt as if they were strangers.

The steam began to fill the room, fogging up the mirror, so Loki dropped the sheet and stepped under the spray. He let the hot water wash over him, easing the ache of his muscles. He took the showerhead in hand, adjusted the setting of the water, and held it over the back of his head to let the hot water pummel the skin of his neck and his scalp, hoping to make the migraine go away. Though with the newly added stress of a phone call with someone from his long-forgotten past, Loki wasn’t sure it would go away now.

Washing his body and hair quickly, after just fifteen minutes, Loki stepped out and went through the motions of grooming then getting dressed. When he stepped out into the living room, Fandral was just taking his food from its delivery packaging.

“Did he call?”

“No. Feel any better?”

Not at all. “Much. Fandral, could you give me some privacy?”

He froze with a wrapped sandwich half out of the bag. Only his eyes moved in Loki’s direction, “Um, sure? Do you want me to come back in, what, an hour?”

Loki shook his head. “No. In fact, why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” Fandral dropped the sandwich on the table and faced Loki fully, crossing his arms. “Don’t look at me like that. Nothing is wrong. I just don’t know how this conversation is going to go, and I’d rather not have an audience if you don’t mind.” He spotted a bag of chips and snatched it up, ripping it open to pop one into his mouth.

Fandral, still frowning, reached into the bag once again to split the napkins between the two of them. He repacked his meal, then lifted the bag from the table. “All right. Your phone is on the counter. I input the phone number since he called the office, not your cell phone. And – I’ll be available, just in case.”

“Thank you. Fandral.” Loki gave his back a quick pat as he paused beside him. “I mean it. Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well, I think we both know that’s a mutual feeling.” He reached for Loki’s arm, giving his wrist a quick squeeze. “Call me later? So I know you’re all right?”

Loki nodded and didn’t move until he heard the door close behind Fandral. It was true; he didn’t know how he would function without Fandral. They were classmates in law school, and both started at equally prestigious firms upon graduation. They were good friends but fiercely competitive, too. Loki credited that manic drive to one-up each other for getting him to the top five percent of their graduating class. But after a few years, while Loki had been on the up-and-up, Fandral was drowning, barely keeping his head above water as a tax lawyer. Loki watched one of the first friends he’d made in New York crumble under pressure and struggled to help him find a way to deal. Eventually, Fandral walked away from the six-figure salary, the company car, and all the perks that came with it. Loki was impressed that Fandral

dared to do it. After a few months of getting help and finding a better mental space, Fandral moved off of Loki’s couch into a modest apartment that was a fraction the size of the loft he was in before and looked for a less-hectic job. Loki had snagged a cushy position as Stark Industries’ in-house counsel, thanks to his friendship with its C.E.O., and was still getting settled. Managing New York’s richest son’s money, company, and public image was turning out to be a full-time job. And Loki needed help. He’d already recruited Natasha Romanov, a former N.Y.P.D. Officer, he brought her on for her computer and investigative skills. So he offered Fandral a position as his assistant. Fandral took it and promised to be the best right-hand man. Loki expected he’d be bored within a month just answering phone calls and setting up meetings. But Fandral’s duties, mostly taken on of his own volition, had grown exponentially in the past five years. He acted as assistant, maid, valet, and social buffer for the notoriously introverted Loki.

Loki would be a mess without him.

Because he was starving, Loki wolfed down half his sandwich and chips, grateful that the shower, the food, and the medication had helped relieve the worst of his migraine. Taking a deep breath, Loki picked up his phone from where Fandral left it for him. His thumb hovered over the screen, over the unknown phone number. And with his heart in his throat, Loki tapped it. He listened. He waited. And, finally, after three rings, the line picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Thor.”

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

Hello. I am, as you know, an American. I turned eighteen in 2014, voted in my first presidential election in 2016, and voted in my second presidential election last week via early voting in the state of Texas. 

I’m reflecting right now on the difference between those experiences. This is going to be a very self-indulgent essay. 

The 2016 election was in my third and final year of undergrad at Texas A&M University. At the time, I was living with a roommate who grew up in a town of 2,000, all of them members of her church. I loved her very much, but she was the most sheltered person I’ve ever met. 

I was only a few years ahead of her. My home growing up was deeply liberal about many of the things that counted, but deeply conservative on equally important things. For me, leaving for college was a radicalization speed-run.

I, a good Memphis girl, moved to Texas and encountered for the first time in my life white homogeny and everything that comes with it. I made most of my friends at A&M through a Christian orientation camp that I attended, then worked at. I went to school at a history department that was overwhelmingly male and war-obsessed. 

My second semester, I was randomly sorted into a writing seminar on the American Civil War and Reconstruction. There were eight other students in that class, all of them Texans. By day two I had gotten into a open fight with one of my classmates after he used the phrases “one of the humane parts of slavery” and “the secession declarations are moving and beautiful appeals, if you read them,” and “well I’m not going to criticize my own state.”

We got into at least one yelling match per week from that point forward. It was a formative experience for me-- not just him but the seven other students that took his side every time because they just couldn’t conceptualize anything outside of their own experiences, and frankly, I couldn’t either. 

It rocked my world to be surrounded by people who told me, among other things, that their high schools flew the Confederate battle flag or Lee was their all time role-model (because he actually didn’t want to secede! He didn’t believe in it, but Virginia did, so he put his own qualms aside and served his country, and that’s what we all have to do). I ran a survey once by knocking on every door in a dorm hall and asking the two people inside why the Civil War happened. 

I feel like you can guess the most common answer I got. Only two said slavery. Six didn’t know what the Civil War was. 

The last week of the semester, my class read a collection of recorded oral accounts of freed slaves during Reconstruction. My nemesis told me that he “didn’t realize black people actually had it bad.” At the same time, I was struggling with my sexuality, my relationship to my religion, my relationship with my parents, and a handful of newly-diagnosed but long-existing mental illnesses. I wasn’t having fun. 

Over the next three years, I tried my hardest to humanize the people that said disgusting things about minorities, poverty, and me personally. I barely won on that one, and I’m actually really proud that I did, even if it took me a few years. I can trace the biggest change in me directly to my nemesis from the history department, the kid that made me so mad that I started arguing back. I was too scared to do that before. 

By 2016, I was in full existential spin-out-- a very suddenly liberal kid fighting my whole family, all of my classmates, and most of my friends in an explosive political climate, the first I had ever participated in. 

I voted by Tennessee absentee ballot in 2016. On election night, I ordered takeout for me and my roommate, who I knew had voted red. Confident, like pretty much everybody, that Clinton would win, I was trying to show her that I didn’t hate her. She went to bed after dinner, also so certain that Clinton would win that she didn’t bother to stay up. 

I sat in front of my laptop sewing a birthday present for a friend (Kenza, actually), while the votes came in. I wasn’t super alarmed when the map turned red. I just figured the blue states hadn’t finished counting yet. 

The map didn’t get any bluer. By 1am, I knew what was about to happen. They called it an hour later, while I was sobbing on my floor. I threw up in the bathroom out of pure anxiety. I got two anonymous messages telling me the asker was going to commit suicide. Neither of them responded to my replies. I don’t actually know what happened to them. 

I remember riding the bus to class the next morning and distinctly seeing that most of the racial minorities there had swollen eyes from crying. The girl with the pride stickers all over her laptop didn’t show up that day, and I’m kind of glad she didn’t, considering the way some of our classmates in the back were loudly talking about “the gays.” Hope she’s okay.

My roommate came home completely unaware that Clinton lost. I was crying in my room when that happened. I remember showing her a demographic map of who voted which way. She got visibly upset when she figured out what races how. I think she really did feel guilty. 

That Thanksgiving, one of my cousins tweeted, “I can’t wait to go argue with my liberal cousin today. The wins. Keep. Coming,” an hour before he walked into my house. Inauguration day was January 20, 2017. I decided to go to law school a week later, the day the president signed the Muslim ban. That’s when I figured out for the first time just how much power the courts have. The last three years have only enforced that. 

I got angrier and angrier during law school, egged on by a few friends but more than anything just... finally conscious of exactly how the American system works and exactly who’s behind it. I still live in Texas, farther west now, and I’m working my first legal job. I’m going to be a licensed attorney next week. 

I went back and forth for months about how this election was going to shake out. I knew there wasn’t going to be an overwhelming red majority this time, but my big fear was an election close enough that the Supreme Court could take it. That fear doubled last month, at RBG’s death. 

I was hoping for a blue enough victory on election night that there wouldn’t be a week of uncertainty, but that was unlikely, and it didn’t happen. I obsessively refreshed my election map all of Wednesday and Thursday, aware that at least some states would flip after mail-in ballots came in, but unsure which would. 

Again, my great fear was a blue victory held down by only one state. Given (I would say “any” chance here, but I don’t mean “any” chance because genuinely jurisdiction or facts or legal merit don’t matter to the Supreme Court) an opportunity to make one (1) decision that hands over a red election, please know that a conservative supermajority would take it. I cannot emphasize enough how true that is and how important it is for all of us to grasp that. 

Watching Georgia flip was one of the best experiences of my life, and it’s a little hard for me to articulate why, but I’m going to give it a shot here. I’m southern. I’m from the South, and for this conversation it’s really important that I’m from Memphis, a black city and a center of black music and culture. 

When people think about the South, they think of the white South, and on some level, they should. It is absolutely essential to understand the white South in order to understand American history. Let me be 100% clear here. That is not a good thing. American majority history is not good. We are not a good country. 

It’s near-impossible to understand why that’s true without knowing exactly what happened in the white South and exactly what is still happening there now. With that, however, is another truth that most folks don’t get. 

The SouthTM is white and needs to die. The South as it actually exists is partially white yes, but it is also everyone else that lives here, particularly black folks. Southern culture is black, not white. Georgia flipped because the people that have always, always been there finally got to crack apart the conservative machine holding the South hostage. 

That’s amazing. It’s fucking mind-blowing. I watched it happen at 3:30 in the morning days after Election Day, and holy shit holy shit, Georgia flipped. Atlanta won. Holy fucking shit. 

I would be terrified right now if only Georgia flipped, because SCOTUS would have found a way to throw out a few thousand votes. Inevitable. Absolutely certain on that one. 

With a few states of buffer, I don’t think that’s going to happen. I really do think it’s over. 

I came home after work on Friday and immediately went to sleep because I hadn’t really done that since Tuesday. I woke up at noon today, checked the map, checked my messages, and saw what happened while I was gone. After that, I went back to bed until 5:30pm. I’m really just getting up now, after most of 24 hours asleep. 

I don’t know if I would say that I’m happy right now, but I am overwhelmingly relieved. I’m under no illusions that a Biden victory will solve everything, but I also do think this is a real thing to celebrate. I’ll take suggestions on how to celebrate right now, actually, since I’m finally awake. 

I’ll be angry forever, I think, but this is a good thing, and I’d like to enjoy it. If you’re happy right now, hey, tell me about it. I’ll be thrilled with you. I want to hear it. Congrats to all of us. Love y’all. 

[fckwritersblock]

Act 1: While We’re Young

Chapter 5

Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens x Black OC

(Unedited.)

Tuesday

January 10th 2005

Last night was the only night I'm allowing myself to cry over him and his 'return'. What good would it do me? No, I was gonna take Erik and whatever he had to throw at me by storm.

Waking up the next day, I feel refreshed. Like a brand new person with a more positive mindset. Today I had 3 classes and I'm determined to have a good Erik free day.

That whole Erik free thing went out the window as soon as I got to my first class.

Double O Computer Programming 1 was a junior class, however I'd taken it during the summer during my first year at UC Berkeley. DOCP 2 wouldn't be available until next semester but I needed to have a class since this was my first year on the actual campus. Thankfully Miss Hill really needed a T.A and the fact that I could help with an algorithm that tied into thermal nuclear astrophysics had her sold.

Right after I finished taking attendance, she barely got a word out before the door swung open revealing Erik as our late comer. I quickly glanced at the sheet in front of me, scanning for his name. I was so use to calling him N’dajaka when we were kids, I completely skipped over ‘Erik Stevens’. I huffed rolling my eyes, arms crossed over my chest. His timbs were the only thing heard shuffling across the room making hid way toward the front of the class. Wordlessly he handed Miss Hill before his eyes were on me. They scanned me from top to bottom, before locking with me a smug grin on his lips.

"Hey Lona," my jaw dropped.

Before I could get out a word, Miss Hill opened her mouth, looking up from the paper he handed her.

"Welcome Erik, sorry for the confusion."

"It's all good," he shrugged.

"Im Miss Hill, and I see you already know my aid. As I explained to the class prior to taking attendance, If I'm unavailable feel free to email or call her during the hours listed on the sheet." She is then took a sheet from me and handed him to me. "Other than that, find a seat."

He nodded pretending look over the sheet before averting his gaze back on me.

"I'm definitely gon do that."

Fuck my life right?

Well, Erik just so happened to be in the Calculus class I skipped two days ago. I thank God my record was squeaky clean and Mr. Kennedy accepted my poor excuse before I was quickly reminded the man upstairs has a sense of humor as the only available seat was next to Erik.

"The person next to you will be your partner for the remainder of the semester so let's take the next 15 minutes getting know one another hmm?." Mr. Kennedy instructed.

I couldn't suppress the groan that slipped as Erik casually leaned back in his chair, examining me.

"You heard the man, get to know me."

"I know all I need this know about you Erik."

"Oh so I'm Erik now? Like that?" He spoke cool, calm, and collected like our exchanged was normal.

I gripped my pencils tight, my knee bouncing up and down my body tense.

"Let me set things straight now. We don't need to talk to one another. If it doesn't have anything to do with any of the classes we take together, don't want to hear it. When you see me act like you don't know me. We clear?"

The expression on his face was unreadable before his lip twitched slight him responding.

"Crystal."

Wednesday

January 24th, 2005

It had been two weeks since Erik showed up here.

Ok that's a lie.

Apparently this man has been here. And to top it off, this mans name was in every bitch mouth like the second coming of Jesus Christ. From what I've observed though, he doesn't say much, or gives any of these broads much attention. He don't say much in general actually, he's really good at blending in. He got that laid back, mysterious, bad boy vibe going for him and these females out here hella into that.

But when he opens his mouth, that cocky bastard sure knows how to disrupt my entire soul at least while we're in class.

Outside of class though, he acts like I'm invisible.

It was like he never knew me. And honestly, I don't know how to feel about it. I know that's what I said I wanted but it bothers me just the same.

Today in particular though, he argued me down during our Calculus class. We had one problem to figure out before we could leave class today. You and your partner were supposed agree on the answer, and heaven forbid he just agree with me so we can get out of here. Math was always my subject when we were kids, nothing has changed. I was damn near about to say fuck it when he started laughing.

What in the entire fuck it so funny?" I was fuming.

"You," he shook his head. "You really hella mad."

"Um, YES!" I damn near shouted fed up. "You literally been tryna convince me it's 5 when it's-"

"Chill. I know the answer is 3 girl. C'mon, let's go." So smoothly he closed the book, grabbed his bag and headed to the front.

I was so upset, I had to let him do all the talking when it came to explain to the teacher I'll answer and how we got there. I know I open my mouth I wasn't going to say anything nice.

"Girl what crawled up your ass and died?" Donise questioned with a stank look as we sat at one of the benches outside of the library.

"Yeah What did Erik do now," I could hear teasing in Tatiana's tone so I flipped her off.

Only giving a brief explanation, I went on a mini rant about what happened in class 20 minutes ago. Donise's thought it was funny, while Tati just shook her head.

"I still can't believe it him," Tatianna glanced as a group of guys from across the quad headed our way, Erik included.

"Yes, and I wish it wasn't."

Tatianna was the first real friend I made in a while. I was actually tutoring her online for a while before she found out I was 4 years younger than her. Our friendship started off as a trade. I was her tutor and she both convinced and enrolled in a mentor program to help me with my social skills. I didn't speak to anyone much when Erik left, but I got into a lot of fights. According to the school counselor I was taking out my anger and abandonment issues on.I have meds to tame the anger, and while I haven't had to take them in a while Eric definitely bring that anger out of me.

"Girl that's just sexual tension. You got to fuck all that out." Ashley put in her unwanted two cents.

"Trust me when I tell you on God it isn't."

"Well if you out to holla, then trust and believe I will." She tossed her hair over her shoulder

I didn't really mess with Ashley like that, but she was Tati's frat sister which made them 'friends'. That little thot pocket will screw anything with legs, D, and a pulse and I'm not bout that life. Plus she messy as fuck and I don't trust her as far as I can throw her.

"I don't doubt it," I smirked as Donise said exactly what I was thinking.

Donise was coo' though, I meet her when I first got here 2 months ago. Believe It or not she was apart of the welcome comity for MIT and turned out her and Tatiana were already friends. Once she figured out  who I was, I was shot to the front line during registration and everything.

"Anyways, y'all going Ant and them party tomorrow?" Ashley questioned probably tryna bum a ride.

"What party?"

"The Que's," Donise answered. "The dudes with Erik are frat."

Now this was news to me. I met most of them before but I had no idea there were in a sorority. Examining them, I guess it all made sense. Most in the clique sported some sort of purple and yellow lanyard either around their neck or on their keychain that hung from their jean pocket as if  they wanted everybody to know who they were. Which I wouldn't doubt.

"Ladies! What we chattin about?" Moses questions every bit of his thick English accent tapering off every word.

"Our plans for mañana," Tati answered l

"Word. Y'all coming to the party tomorrow?" Jay spoke playing with a few strands of Donise's curls.

"Tomorrow? It's Thursday." I said confused. "Ain't there class the next day?"

"What's the matter, you can't hang?" I glared at Jay, knowing he was only chastising me because him and Erik were close, according to Tati.

I swear to God men gossip more than women do. Rolling my eyes I spared Erik a glance and he looked like he was waiting on me to respond.

"Oh, I can definitely hang."

I couldn't hang.

Around midnight I was  in the bathroom throwing up everything, damn near hug in the toilet as my surrounding looks so blurry and I can barely function. Im not sure when I'd finally finished, but I could feel someone picks me up and out the bathroom and soon everything goes blurry and then black.

Tag list: @kitesatforestp @xsweetdellzx @justgetitoverwith0 @letsshamelessqueen-m @cmkcolove @readingaddict1290

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 15

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 15

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

The book was incredibly interesting. It was written in some dialect of Mandarin. Many things were also covered in The Grimoire but several stories told there were previously completely unknown. It seemed like it was written after the other book and while the first was entirely encyclopedical, this one contained detailed stories from several time periods. What got Ladybug’s attention was that many of them were diary excerpts. 

One of the most important elements was a story about the seventeenth-century villain, Lord of Butterflies, who came to the colonial city of Gotham and tried to take control of the settlement. He was a master of deception and almost succeeded. Ladybug and Black Cat of that time never appeared. Another story told about their involvement in the Thirty Years’ War in continental Europe, where they were hunting the Snake and Bee Miraculous users that tried to manipulate the conflict. Luckily for Gotham, a witch hunter named Malleus opposed him and used jars with symbols engraved on the walls to keep the butterflies locked away so they could not wreak havoc again. The book told of the power struggle until finally, after the burning of Raphael Dent, a longtime friend of Malleus, the attacks stopped. Most people thought that the problem was over, but from the looks of it, the author of that book tried to imply that Lord of Butterflies just bid his time, waiting for the opportunity to strike again. 

Ladybug read the story twice, trying to figure out the fate of all the corrupted Butterflies or the jars, but she got nothing. Maybe if they figured out what symbols kept the akumas in, she could experiment with warding the butterflies away. It could be a breakthrough!

While she was browsing the book, Black Cat eyed the teens. “Shouldn’t you people scramble for classes?”

“Nope!” The little one, Maps, grinned. “The new school policy. In case of a supervillain attack on campus, the rest of the classes that day are canceled to avoid additional stress to students. It’s nice they care about our mental health.” 

“Yeah… Dude,” Colton looked at Black Cat, “any chance you can tell me what tech your staff uses?”

“Tt. It’s magic.” 

“No, seriously, I suppose it could be an organic metal of some sort, but it’s able to perfectly support your weight at the same time.” 

“Magic.” The vigilante-turned-hero growled.

“Come on! Don’t do it to me, man! Pom won’t let me live it down!”

“I told you magic was real!” The teen was glaring at him with a smirk on her face.

“Tt. Don’t play with magic or you’ll get burnt.” He scoffed. 

“Don’t be a grumpy cat!” Ladybug called from over the book. “Silverlock… Why does it sound so familiar…”

“Did you say Silverlock?” One of the teens peaked. “I’m Olive Silverlock.”

“Bellatrix Silverlock was the only akuma from that period mentioned here by name… I wonder why… Ugh! I can’t decipher that part. It’s too old and damaged.” The heroine groaned. “Cat! We should move back to the base.” She pulled a pair of glasses from her yo-yo and put them on. “Tikki! Kaalki! Merge!” 

As soon as the light of transformation died, a portal consumed both superheroes and the book, leaving the teens alone in the dark library.

-----------

Sabine paced around the manor in the foul mood she was in ever since she sent the kids on their way after initiation and returned home for some long-deserved rest. Half-way home, she received a phone-call from Chloé saying that Marinette was crying in the bathroom with her over another girl that threatened her. The only thing that stopped Sabine from turning around and possibly crashing the car through the front gates was her daughter begging her not to.

She admired that her little girl tried to resolve the problems herself and she didn’t want to come off as overbearing and intruding. It wouldn’t stop her from preparing for if it seemed too much for her sunshine. She made a mistake with Lila. This time, she would be ready. But first, she needed tools. 

“Tom! Where is my suit?!” She called out to her husband, who was happily baking in the kitchen. He finally managed to kick Alfred out and get control. Sabine laughed when the butler, passing her, revealed that he let him win. 

“I think Bruce wanted to put it in the vault, together with the bag!” The large man answered with a merry tone. 

“Thank you, honey! I think I’ll be going out for a while!” 

“Be safe!”

Finally having a direction, she stormed toward the vault. It was hidden under the stairs, where one had to first enter a secret passage, only to then open a door in the wall.

When she opened the doors and looked inside, her first instinct was to immediately go into a battle stance.

It looked like a tornado passed through the room, which was supposed to be neatly ordered. All the documents were scattered, two priceless artifacts got destroyed and every drawer was pulled out. Inside the wall opposite to the doors, someone made a giant hole. The concrete was shattered and the metal reinforcement cage was pulled apart. 

Warily, Sabine approached the hole. Once she got closer, she could take a better look at the reinforcement. What got her attention was the way it was bent. Someone grabbed it and ripped it apart. The hole itself also revealed a small rectangular area that was used to hide something. A secret buried so deeply it was frozen inside a wall of a hidden vault inside a hidden corridor in one of the best-guarded buildings in Gotham.

“Oh for crying out loud! I just wanted my suit…” She threw her hands up. 

---------

More or less at the same time, Tim had a lazy day at the cave. He didn’t need to return to Wayne Enterprises for at least another week. He tried to solve a cold case, using the updated list of secret powers Sabine provided him. He and Bruce were both worried about how much had escaped them. Neither considered Luxembourg Secret Service to be capable of ordering a hit on a hitman that was after their Duke. And hire Lady Shiva nonetheless. 

He just got himself a new cup of coffee when suddenly, a portal appeared in the middle of the cave and dropped two superheroes and a book on a podium. The Cat landed on his feet while Ladybug fell on her rear with a soft thud. Startled, Tim dropped his mug and the coffee spilled all around him.

“Could you not!?” He shouted, a bit embarrassed that they got a drop on him so easily. 

“Tt. Shut up replacement.” Cat growled. He and Marinette dropped their transformations and she proceeded to feed Tikki with some cookies while he reluctantly pulled a small, isolated box from his pocket and gave Plagg a bit of cheese. 

“We’ve got plenty of new material after the last akuma attack. I’ve sent you a picture of a woman using the Peacock Miraculous and we’ve got an essential book.” She walked over to the bat computer. “It appears that they used the distraction the akuma caused to infiltrate the place.”

“I’m not sure, Angel.” Damian was busy with the other screen, trying to attach the tablet to it. The deciphering system managed to unlock it already and while he waited for the system to scan for any traps, he browsed the photos. “From the look of it, she only got two or three pages before we ambushed her. She must’ve arrived shortly before us or couldn’t find it for a long time. I would hazard a guess that she didn’t know about it.”

“But… That would mean she was at school when… but how would she… No! The only other person that heard about the book was Erica.”

“Maybe not. She could’ve been there trying to get some information on us.”

“But how did she get there before us?”

“Tt. It’s not like the Detective Club was in any hurry.” He huffed. 

“Um… That’s all great and all, but what the bat are you talking about?” Tim asked, trying to get between the married couple. 

“We had an akuma attack at school. Damian earned detention for calling Hammerhead old while out of the suit. After we dealt with the akuma we learned about this book,” she pointed at the podium. “We went to check it and found the new Peacock trying to photograph as much as she could. We stole her tablet and kicked her backside.” Marinette beamed. 

Their discussion was interrupted when Sabine stormed inside the cave. “I need security feed from the Gala. Someone trashed the Wayne Vault and stole some box!” She shouted at Tim. “Oh! Hi Sweetie. Go change out of the uniform and we will get tea in a minute.” She smiled at her daughter. Except it was not as genuine as her usual smile. It felt much more forced. 

“Maman. I would love to, but maybe let’s deal with the break-in first?”

“We must wait for Bruce to get back anyway. He took Cass to the ballet class today. My turn will be on Thursday.” 

She pulled the video feed from the camera that overlooked the entrance to the corridor that led to the Vault. She put it on double speed and watched various guests hang around and talk. They usually had a glass of champagne. Suddenly, Marinette lunged and pressed the pause button.

“Him!” She pointed to a younger man with jet black hair and a white mask that covered the upper part of his face. His hair was neatly combed back with no small amount of hair gel, enough that it shined in the camera. 

“He doesn’t stand out really…” Tim scanned the image. 

“The bracelet!” She seethed. “I can’t believe that bastard still carries the bracelet.”

“Tt. I can cut it off next time I see him.” Damian offered before muttering “Together with the arm.” Luckily for him, Marinette had more pressing matters than stopping his murderous instincts.

“So Agreste somehow got inside during the Gala. It’s maybe an hour before the akuma attack.” They continued to watch as he chatted with people nearby. Finally, when they left, he slipped inside the secret passage. They switched to the camera inside, only for it to then be destroyed by a cane. The one inside the vault was a bit farther away, so before it was destroyed they got a good look at the boy. 

The male figure had a dark purple suit with the signature butterfly brooch pinned to the top of the shirt. His chest was protected by two black flaps that looked a bit like the moth wings. In his black gloves, he held a cane topped with a purple orb. The face was covered by a simple domino mask that did nothing to hide the mane of blonde hair on top of his head.

“At least we know that he inherited his father’s lack of taste. At least his mask isn’t…” Marinette stopped herself when Damian poked her side and pointed toward the glass cabinet inside which the first Red Robin uniform was. Its mask was pretty close to what Gabriel wore. “Oh… Nevermind.”

Tim was clearly unamused. 

“This is still important. We’ve got a first look at his transformation. We can set cameras to, in addition to akuma tracing, scan for him personally.”

“I don’t think it would do much good. The image wasn’t the best.”

“But how did he avoid the scanners?” 

“Alfred was busy, tracking a suspicious blonde with bi-colored eyes. She was supposed to have messed too close to the kitchen for his liking.” Tim explained.

“I remember her. She said something to me. ‘You’re far from victory yet’. I considered it suspicious, but in the whirlwind of the following events, the meeting slipped my mind.”

“You! The great Damian Wayne forgot a crucial detail!?” Tim laughed. “This is gold! I need to mark the date on my calendar!”

“Tt. And I need a set of matches.” The youngest Wayne growled. 

“So we’ve got another suspect on the list?” 

“It’s getting complicated. First the vault, then the book… Hawkmoth was narrow-minded in his goals. Create akumas, have them hunt Ladybug and Chat Noir, take the Miraculous.” Marinette collapsed on the nearby chair. “Adrien is… he’s more organized. He’s got a plan. He’s not after the Miraculous. Or rather not directly. There is something else he’s trying to find. I’m just not sure what…”

“The history of Gotham is filled with so many mysteries that we wouldn’t even have any idea where to begin.” Tim wasn’t helpful. At all.

“We know they stole something from Wayne Vault and used the akuma as a distraction to carry it away. Then, they attacked the school. What could be at Gotham Academy that they had a personal interest in?”

“The book?”

“I don’t think they knew about it. The attack on the Academy could’ve been to test our abilities.” 

Tikki and Plagg floated to the group. “Gotham is a dark place.” Ladybug Kwami started. “There are so many things in this city…”

“What about the Bat miraculous, cookie?” Plagg asked. “I mean where else would it be but Gotham?”

“Bat… Miraculous…” Time starred at the two mini-gods. “You’re joking, right?”

“No. Balla is the Kwami of clarity.” Tikki nodded. “The Bat Miraculous gives the wearer supernatural perception and near-precognition.”

“What?” Marinette asked, not sure what the word was supposed to mean.

“They can see the immediate future.” Her mother clarified for her. 

“Is it possible they are after the Bat…” she tried to imagine what jewelry would be associated with bats. Tikki came to help. 

“It’s the belt buckle.”

“Tt. Bat Buckle?” Damian raised an eyebrow. “Whoever made the Miraculous had a great sense of humor.” 

“Okay. But we still need to figure out their next step…”

“Sweetie? Maybe you focus on school and let me deal with this?” Sabine asked after a moment. 

“But… I’m the Guardian.”

“And you’re also a teenager.” Her mother countered. “I’m not trying to replace you or keep you on the sidelines. I am your mom though. Teenage years are supposed to be the best in your life. You should be dating, spending time with friends. Exploring the world. Nowhere on that list is fighting against a mad terrorist.” 

“But… but… I can’t just sit back while you fight!” 

“You can still fight. And help.” Sabine tried again. “I just don’t want you to devote all your time to this. You can leave the investigation to me, Bruce and Tim and enjoy the time with friends; Or design; Or take Damian on dates.” 

“Tt. It’s my duty to take her on dates.”

“Dream on, grumpy cat.” Marinette booped his nose and giggled at the face he made.

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

Masterlist // Next

[barnesbabee]

Welcome, to The Club || J.W

Summary: What secrets do the quiet ones keep? 

Pairing: Jeong Wooyoung x Reader

Words: Oh so many

Genre: Smut

⚠ degradation, name-calling, spanking, choking, praise kink ⚠

A/N: I was writing the pornstar!au version for wooyoung and this idea popped into mind and I was like oh??? Enjoy 💖

 No one knew about it... No one but the ones included. And you wouldn't know you were included until you received a pretty, pearl-coloured envelope with your name written in cursive on the back of it, in black. 

   It had somehow dropped out from the middle of your books once you got home and settled them down on your counter. It flew away and settled down on the floor. You cocked your head and furrowed your eyebrows, looking at it confusedly.

    'Y/N'

   It clearly was meant for you to read, or else your name wouldn't be on the back...

   You picked it up and examined it for a second, before reaching for a knife and ripping it open. There wasn't much inside, there was barely anything. Just a black card, written on with white text with an address and a time plastered on it. No other text or information... You looked inside the envelope to make sure you hadn't left anything there and alas, inside it there was a piece of black fabric. You picked it up and inspected it, rolling it between your fingers. It was made of lace entirely, and it had the shape of a mask. You looked at it for a second before tying it around your head. You inspected your image in the bathroom's mirror. Who sent you that invite? What was it for? A masquerade ball perhaps?  

  Since there was no date on it you'd just assumed it was on that day, which made you even more confused. Why was it on such short notice? Did they forget to invite you previously or?... 

  You gave it some thought. What did you have to lose anyway? You weren't proud of it but you weren't a very... safe person. If it seemed interesting you immediately jumped on it, not giving it further consideration or even thinking about the risks. 

 The mask especially interested you... Carnival was long gone and the way it was sensually designed made you curious about what kind of even it was. You jumped in the shower, excited to see where the address would take you.   The shower was as quick as possible, since you only about two hours and a half, and your destination was quite far.

  You slapped on a red lipstick and some contour, before curling your hair slightly. The voluptuous waves definitely gave your look the intense and intimate touch it lacked. 

  It took you no longer than ten minutes to find a dress you thought would suit the occasion: a tight, off shoulder, v-neck black dress with a tight pencil skirt. You didn't want to wear something too flashy, only God knew what was about to happen...

  You grabbed your black glitter stilettos and stuffed the mask and the invitation inside whatever small purse was lying around, ready to leave.

   When you stepped outside, the cold air hit your legs and exposed arms, and immediately the idea of walking there flushed down the drain. You waved your hand, signaling the taxi passing by that you needed a ride, and he pulled over.

   "Where to miss?" He asked when you settled in the backseat, eyeing your Thursday night dress choice questioningly.

   You fiddled with the items inside your small bag until you found the black note, and read the address aloud to the male driver. He nodded and started moving the car. 

   Your leg bounced as you approached the destination, with no clue in what to expect. 

   "Here it is."

   You looked outside of the window and looked at the building. It looked... abandoned. It looked like it would crumble down at any second and you were honestly confused.

   "Um... Thank you." You thanked and handed the driver the money shown on the small screen.

   As soon as you exited the car you felt fear and worry wash over you. What the fuck had you done!? What made you think this was a good idea!? 

  You looked at the building, and at the piece of paper in your hands. It was the right address... 

  You hurriedly grabbed the laced mask from your bag and wrapped it around your head. 

  The steps you took towards the gated door were wary and careful, almost as if something would jump out at you if you weren't careful. Your finger rang the doorbell, almost expecting it to not work, but a loud 'ding dong' echoed inside. A small rectangular hatch opened in the middle of the door. You rationalized a little and realized that they were probably asking for the invitation, to confirm you weren't an unwanted outsider.

   You slid the thick, black paper through the opening and it immediately closed shut.

   A second passed and you heard an unlocking sound coming from the inside, and before you knew it, you were being welcomed by a buff man and a tall woman, whose faces were totally covered by white masks.

  "Welcome, to The Club." The woman said.

  She took your purse and set it down along with the coats and purses of what you assumed belonged to the other guests.

   You walked in slowly, looking around at the scenario. It was a long hallway, with about five dark wood doors on each side, and a big black door by the end of it. 

   You squinted your eyes. The inside of the house looked luxurious, you wondered why it looked so beat up from the outside...

  There was some noise coming from behind the door, and you assumed that's where you were supposed to go. You stepped towards it, and as you turned the handle and opened it, your eyes immediately widened.

  Before your eyes was a luxurious salon. The floor was made of dark brown marble, the walls had an exquisite bordeaux wallpaper and the windows (that were at least 4 meters tall) were covered by brown and golden curtains. You were mesmerized by the gigantic chandelier hanging beside the enormous staircase.

   You were a little intimidated by the atmosphere, and you didn't quite know what to do. There were men and women, seemingly wealthy from the way they handled themselves, sitting in big chairs and sofas chatting away as expensive drinks were handed to them. It seemed as if each of them had a toy: another person taking care of them. Whether it was actually fucking, giving them head or just providing them attention, every person in the room was accompanied, and you felt very out of place...

   At least you did have something in common. Everyone had a mask covering their face, whether it was a full face, or just half, decorated or plain, complex or simple, everyone had a unique way to hide their features.

   All of the talking, moaning and dirty sounds stopped and all eyes turned to you.    Whispers echoed around the room and you became flushed with all of the attention, not knowing what to do. 

   "I understand my guest has arrived?"

   A voice spoke from the top of the stairs and all of the ruckus stopped once more. All of the people looked at the man standing tall above all, and he chuckled. 

  He looked at you, and an overwhelming sense of fear and discomfort spread through your body.

  All pairs of eyes followed the seemingly important man's movements, as he stepped towards you. You kept your incredulous face while he kept his smirk.    When he was just a couple centimeters away from you, he could see your blush, even with the dim lights.

  The man was wearing a mask just like yours, the first identical pair in the room you had seen. His blonde hair was neatly swept back and he wore an expensive-looking suit.

   He extended his hand and said in a very husky, familiar voice.

  "Shall we go somewhere more private? I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable during your first time."

  You swallowed thickly and reluctantly took his hand. You weren't thinking of anything when you followed the man, you only hoped to escape the lingering eyes of the strangers.

   He took you upstairs and into a big room, with nothing but a bed, a sofa, and a big wardrobe. The bed was huge, and had transparent curtains around it.

  The man's back faced you.

  "Who are you?" 

  You thought you should at least know, since you apparently were his guest. His fingers reached for his mask and he removed it, tossing it aside.

  "I guess there's no use keeping this, you'll recognize me eventually."

 He turned around, and you gasped at the sight. 

 He licked his lower lip and trapped it between his lip as you looked at him from head to toe.

  It was unbelievable.

 Jung Wooyung, the quiet kid that always sat on the front row, the class president that always volunteered to help teachers, the goofy, nerdy kid that always avoided girl's gazes... He stood proudly in front of you, looking like candy and practically eye-fucking you.

  "Wooyoung?..." You asked, still in hopes you were wrong.

  It was too unbelievable...

 He stepped towards you and placed his hand on your hip, pulling you closer to him.

  His finger hooked around the bow that held your mask and he undid it.

  "Since we're alone you don't need this, do we?"

  You shook your head lightly and allowed him to toss it somewhere.

  "Wooyoung what the fuck is going on?" You asked and exhaled deeply.

  He hummed and squeezed your sides.

  "Exactly what you see. I run a club for rich people to drink and have a good time. Their guests are unknown people assigned to them based on their preferences. Except for you of course, I had to get you here..." His hand moved to your ass, giving it a squeeze "You tease me so much with that body... You don't even know. I love every single curve you have, and I didn't want to get you in this mess, but I just couldn't help myself, I had to fuck you."

  Your eyes widened, and he chuckled at the reaction. You had no words for what he had just said...

  "But why?" You asked, confused as to why he'd do this.

  "Because the outside is just so boring... I needed a little something. And this" He gestured around the room "is my little something."

  There was a long silence. There was no possible response to that...

   "Of course I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Once you're in, you're in for good. You have the chance to walk out now and never come back." He smirked and leaned closer to your ear, so he could whisper to you "But you don't want that, do you? You love the thrill... That's why you accepted the invitation. That's why you put on this slutty dress and came here not even knowing who had sent you the mask."

   You shivered under his touch and you felt the urge to succumb to whatever he wished. 

   His hands settled on the bottom of your skirt and started lifting it, slowly. 

   "Now is your chance pretty baby, when I take this off, there's no going back.”

   You didn't give it much thought. You also wanted to feel the little something he talked about. 

   You pulled his hands away and his face fell for a second, thinking that you would actually back out.

You had other plans, however. Your fingers hooked around the hem of your dress and pulled it over your head, allowing the cloth to pool around your feet. You stepped closer to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, as your fingers played with the hairs on his nape.

   "I guess there's no going back now."

   Wooyoung smirked and his lips moved to your neck, kissing and licking it softly.

   "I knew I made the right choice." He whispered against your skin.

  You hissed and cocked your head to the side slightly, giving him all the access he wanted.

   Wooyoung's fingers played with the sides of your panties, playing with them around his fingers, and snapping the material against the skin of your hip.

   As he worked on leaving marks around your neck, your hands stripped him from his fancy jacket and started unbuttoning his grey silk dress shirt, exposing his chest and toned arms. 

   Your hand caressed his skin as it traveled down his body, ready to palm him through his clothes, however when your hands reached his belt, he grabbed your wrist and pulled away from your neck, to look you in the eye.

  "You're my gest doll, I should treat you accordingly."

  His hand swiftly reached for your back and unhooked your bra, removing it completely do he could look at your breasts bouncing free from the material.   He then picked you up, bridal style, and threw you on the large bed. 

 You could feel how comfortable and soft the sheets were the second your skin came into contact with the material.

  Your eyes darted to Wooyoung. He took off his belt and placed it on the nightstand, followed by his pants that he threw near his jacket.

   He climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists above your head, holding them down with one hand only. 

   His fingers found their way inside your underwear and began teasingly playing with your clit.

   The male looked down, seeing how you squirmed under his touch.

   "Hmm, just as I thought, you look even more beautiful like this..." 

   You moaned at the comment and rolled your hips, wanting to get more contact.

    "Tsk, so needy... You want more? Hm?" He asked, with a low chuckle.

    "Y-yes, please, I need more." 

    Wooyoung hissed and his face immediately shifted. He had a feral expression, his eyes were hungry and when he heard your pretty pleads he just wanted to ditch all the foreplay and devour you there and then.

   He slipped two fingers in you, earning a loud moan.

  "Such a slut, begging to be fucked... But you like it, don't you' You like being fucked like a slut."

  You nodded desperately, earning a chuckle.

  Wooyoung removed his fingers and brought them up to his face. You watched as he inserted them in his mouth, licking them clean and tasting every little bit of your juices.

  "You taste so good..." He complimented, as he moved to stand in between your legs "I can't wait to have more of you."

  He gently slipped off your underwear and dipped his head down for his lips to meet your clit. You gripped his hair and your mouth fell agape when he started sucking on your sensitive bud.

   His tongue flattened against your pussy, licking long stripes along it, and entering your hole occasionally, leaving no corner of your womanhood unexplored.

   "Oh my God- Wooyoung you're so good-"

   He pulled away from your cunt and slapped your thigh. His face was now level with yours and he gripped your jaw with one hand.

   "Never say my name inside these walls, I am unknown to them, understood doll?"

   You didn't dare speak, you just nodded to his words. His fingers fell from your jaw to your neck, applying some pressure around your throat as his lips attacked yours in a violent kiss.

   You could taste yourself in his tongue. He would bite your lip from time to time, making you whimper at the roughness.

   You placed your hand on his hardon and squeezed it, innocently looking him in the eye.

   "Please..." You begged once more.

   Wooyoung cursed under his breath and flipped you around. He slapped your ass, and you lifted it in the air for him. As he removed his underwear, you felt his cock slap against your ass.

   He gripped your ass cheeks harshly and slapped them. When he heard your little whimper at his spanks, he smiled dirtily. 

   "You like this, pretty baby?" He asked.

   "I do..." You muttered shyly. 

   Wooyoung's eyed darted to the belt resting on the bedside table, and he reached for it. He folded it in half, and swung it back, before hitting it against your skin. 

   You moaned loudly and the pleasurable pain you got from the sharp whips.    Your cunt was dripping, and you were clenching only from the abuse he was giving your ass.

    "I can't take it anymore, please, please fuck me!" You yelled between whimper and moans.

   Wooyoung happily obliged and stuffed your tight hole with his cock. He moaned at the tight feeling, and his grasp on your ass grew.

   "You feel so good around me, fuck..."

   He started moving, and as time went by the sound of your hips smashing against each other grew louder. One of Wooyoung's hands left your ass, and he placed it on your neck, squeezing it slightly as he pushed your face farther into the pillow.

   "Tell me how much you like my cock you little whore." The man growled.

   "I love it... I love your big cock filling me up so well." You told him.

   His cock twitched inside you at the dirty words, and his thrusts became more violent, yet sloppier.

   "Look at you, taking me so well... Taking my cock like a good girl."

   When he slapped your ass and tugged on your hair to whisper that in your ear, a wave of pleasure washed over you, and you clenched around his shaft as you came. You back arched, your toes curled and you couldn't silence the loud moan even if you wanted to. 

   Wooyoung couldn't take it anymore, and he buried his member deep inside you, releasing his warm cum inside you with a quiet moan. You hissed at the warm sensation hitting your walls.

   The second he removed himself from you, he walked from the bed and put on a black silk robe and his mask. 

   You cocked your head and looked at him confusedly, as he approached you with a robe just like his along with your mask. He handed them to you.

   "Come on, put these on, princess."

   You obliged and wrapped your body in the soft material, followed by the mask. Wooyoung helped you up and held your hand. Before leaving the room, he looked at you for a second and fixed your hair, smiling a little at your disheveled look.

   He opened the large door and you followed him, hand in hand.

   As you stood on top of the staircase, the curious stranger eyes were all on you once more.

   Wooyoung wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close.

  "I would like you all to meet The Club's new member. Welcome to The Club."

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Gonna Be Home Soon

Time’s passed and things don’t feel better. It’s like settling, accepting, the new normal. But sometimes exceptions can be made to the rules. 

My fingers slipped. Part 2 of Away for a Moment. 

Enjoy my masterlist

Support me on kofi

________________________________

When Calum’s phone rings at 8:05 am, he doesn’t waste a second to answer it. He’s been anticipating this call ever since the two of you talked last night and you mentioned errands you needed to run in the morning. And there you are, grinning into the camera, the morning sun bright behind you.

“Morning,” you chirp.

“Morning, love,” he returns, falling back into the mass of pillows on his bed. “Waiting for the bus?”

“Nah, the store’s not too far and I’m already half way there.”

He nods, a hum falling over his lips. Your breathing is a little heavy. He can hear the pants as you walk. There’s a bit of a hill on the way there, if his memory serves him correctly. “Sleep okay?”

You shrug, ducking under a tree to take a short cut up to the concrete steps that lead you into the tiny shopping center. “Slept alright. Woke up in the night sweating my ass off.”

“What about your fan?”

“It was on. I had just cocooned myself and got to hot that’s all. What about you? How’d you sleep?”

Calum starts to answer but like his body knows, a yawn interrupts him. “ ‘Cuse me. Slept okay. Still trying to wake up even though I’ve been up for a while.”

“I’m sorry, love. I can let you go. You need rest.”

“No, no, I’m okay.” He doesn’t it say it but you know just by looking at him that even if he were dead tired he’d answer your call. And you know it’s because of the two incidents you told him about while just out. Approached once by men who was too chatty for your comfort—asking too many questions about you personally. And then someone asked for directions which wouldn’t have been weird but they never got off at the stop that you gave them directions for. So when you got off at your stop in front of a gas station you marched right into it and lingered until you were sure the bus had passed.

You don’t regret telling Calum about these strange encounters. And Calum knew you could defend yourself but he didn’t want you to have too. He didn’t like that you had to be on alert and that you were always looking over your shoulder. He knew you would and did still do it in LA with him. He knew all the times you had gone out without before. But he had always been close by. And now he’s not. He’s miles away, across state lines and though he’s not too far it’s still far enough for him to worry more than he did before.

You walk into the Wal-Mart and grab a basket, cradling your phone in one hand. “Wow, it’s kinda quiet in here.”

Calum remembers previous how packed the place was when he helped you move and how you recounted going on a Saturday and immediately regretting it.

“Better hurry,” he teases, looking to Duke who’s now waiting at the edge of the bed. His ears are perked up. Calum picks him up and sets him on his chest.

Your screen when you glance back down is full of Duke’s face and his fur hiding away Calum. But that’s perfectly fine by you. “My boy! Is pops treating you well?” 

Duke barks in response to the question. His snout pressing into the screen almost as if that will bring you closer to him. You don’t even realize tears are welling until one falls and hits your screen. “Love you Duke.”

He barks again at the sound of your voice, leaping off Calum to unearth your sweatshirt he buried into the sheets.

“Oh Duke gets tears but I don’t? I see how it is.”

You quickly wipe at your cheeks. “Shut up. I didn’t realize how much I missed him until just then. I know I miss you.”

“Hey, no, I’m just teasing. Is too soon for a visit?” 

Calum knows it’s only just over a month. Maybe a full month and a half since the last time he visited. He’s not really sure. All he knows that the days are long. All the clothes you’ve left behind have lost all your scent. Big’s too big and most nights Calum falls asleep on the couch. You text him though well before he falls asleep to make it to the bedroom. You beg him really, knowing that it’s better to have a healthy sleeping schedule. Sometimes he makes it, even sends a selfie from underneath the covers, pouting of course. 

In the studio, things feel normal. He can focus on the tasks at hands. And he still can crack jokes. The guys know though. They can all tell that Calum lingers around his phone more so than usual. He takes every call, even the ones that he’d normally ignore because he can tell they’re probably spam. But he takes them know because he can’t be sure it’s not you. Sometimes, he wishes it was you, instead of some bullshit car insurance scam. 

The other guys can tell Calum’s a little down in the dumps because when they ask him if he wants to join for dinner, he declines. And it’s not like he couldn’t shoot you a text saying that he’ll have to push back the FaceTime until later, or just hold off until tomorrow. It’s not like you’d flip your shit. But instead, he holds to those FaceTime dates. He holds for the times even if he’s writing, he can glance to his phone and see you riding the bus or walking into your classes. 

It’s the new normal and though Calum misses the way it used to be. It’s his new normal that keeps him mostly sane. It’s this new normal that helps Calum orient his days. Monday you text early in the morning to head into your office and you message at every stop too. And then around 2 he can call, after you’re done with one stint of classes. On Tuesdays, you morning starts early but he can call during your morning commute. Wednesdays he knows that it’ll mostly be a text day, you have meetings all in the morning and then classes well into the afternoon. Thursday start to lighten up and you can FaceTime most the day of the day minus the tutoring hours you’re putting in. And Fridays, Fridays are Calum’s solace. He can wake early, knowing you’re up early too, and he can be there for just about everything. It’s your reading day too. So you two talk mostly in the morning while you run errands. 

Like today, as you pull out your grocery list, Calum watches you smile at the folks passing you by. “What’s on the list today, love?”

“Batteries. Restock on the veggies and figure out what’s for dinner for the next couple of days. I found these two recipes that I want to try. Just can’t decide on which one.”

“What are they?”

“One’s a chili recipe. Other one is a one pot spaghetti recipe.”

“I vote chili. You can freeze part of the portion for next week.”

You nod, with a hum. “Smart call. Knew I kept you around for a reason.”

Calum laughs, scooping Duke back up into his arms. “Not my devilishly handsome good looks.”

“You’re hot, don’t get my wrong. But it’s what? Two years in now? Good looks don’t make a relationship. But they do help.”

“I see, loving me for my brains. I can’t say I’m upset with that.” The aisle aren’t clear as you walk down. But you pause. Calum can’t really see where, thinks it might be the clothes or close to it. You hold up a cartoon sports bra, wiggling your eyebrows. Calum whistles. “Hot.”

You snort. “I’ll pair it with my school sweatpants.”

“Doubly hot,” Calum snickers.

 As you wonder about, you show small things to Calum, laughing together as you goof about in Wal-Mart. You show Calum a T-shirt that says ‘I can’t people today’ stating that you need that saying tattooed to your forehead. Even though you’ve gotten into a routine it’s still hard some days just to deal with any other human being. Calum’s always enjoyed watching you, even if it’s just you reading the ingredients lists on the back of box. And you do it out of habit now, taking the time to make sure nothing has changed in the ingredients list. Depending on what it is, sometimes there’s a recipe. 

“How many bags of mango slices do you go through in a week?” Calum asks, watching the package fall into your cart. 

You duck your head, speeding down the aisle even though you’re reaching back for another bag. “We do not talk about that.”

“You’re going to have a whole mango budget!”

“At least it’s better than you and your Oreos,” you sass back, waiting for the elderly couple to cross in front of you. “How many packs are you up to in a week?”

“Two,” he states through a mumbles. “But I’m cutting back!”

The giggles dissipate and you warn Calum that you’ll have to put him in your back pocket while you check out. It’s not a bad haul and you’re glad for it. You’re trying to keep the weekly grocery spending low, since the rent’s a little high at your place. With all your groceries bagged, you find your reusable bag and then head for the bus stop. Though it’ll take it a little far out of the way, it beats hauling your groceries up two hills and reduces it to one. 

The morning’s growing warmer and Calum can see the beads of sweat as you walk down to the stop. He knows he ought to get up too. He should think about getting grocery, and washing the bedsheets, and scrub the bathroom. He doesn’t want to. He wants to wrap his arms around you and bury his nose in your neck and inhale the smell of your shampoo and body wash. 

Once you’re safe into your apartment grocery sitting on the counter, you say your goodbyes. It’s in Calum’s eyes. The way the tears don’t fully form but they do glaze over his eyes and you know. It’s going to be a hard day. And if it weren’t for the 200 pages you had to read between your classes, you would’ve stayed longer on the call. You almost ask if he wants to stay on as you read. It almost crosses your lips. 

But Calum sighs. “Guess I gotta let you go, but we’ll talk throughout the day?”

You don’t know if he’s got a busy day or not. It’s Friday and while it’s your easy day, Calum might be buried in some work. So you nod. “Of course.”

The groceries are easy to put up. You settle down for the first half the reading, pen and highlighter at the ready. Calum drops the phone into the sheets and turns onto his stomach, face buried in the pillows. The day will be long if he stays like this. But he can afford himself a little misery, a little grace so that he can sigh about how much he misses you but eventually get his own ass into gear. 

Between the grocery, scrubbing the bathroom, three loads of laundry, Calum doesn’t even realize more than half the day is gone and there’s nothing much else to do. But that ache of saying goodbye to you finally comes back and he took today off from the studio. Which might’ve been a mistake. But it’s too late now, so Calum walks into his own office and picks up his acoustic guitar. 

He was only going to send it to you. But he didn’t want to inundate you with the same old sad sentiments. And sure, this one was a little different, him strumming as his voice is just above a whisper, to let himself finally release the yearning. But still, he didn’t want to bother you. The texts were less consistent than normal but he also understood when you had reading days you were focused on nothing else but the readings. 

Your phone buzzes an alert to let you know about an email. You check it, not sure if it was a student making an appointment for tutoring, but it’s just from the school’s bookstore. “Fucking, now I have anxiety about my email,” you chuckle to yourself. 

Then your fingers wonder, you exit the mail app and tap onto instagram. Right in the bubbles up top is Calum’s icon. You tap onto it and see, or hardly see the  lamps illuminating him. And it’s dark back at home much like it is where you are. His voice is soft as he croons, his cry out for a return. The semester is halfway done and you know even though you’re going to be soon buried in work for midterms, though mostly for the tutoring and teaching and less of midterms for you, you text Calum. 

Gonna be home soon. Just for the weekend. I’ll book a train ticket.

Almost immediately after sending the text, your phone buzzes with a phone call from Calum. “I can come to you,” he rushes out. 

“Well, it’s not home.”

“Home’s not a building, not a place,” Calum whispers. “And I know some people are going to say it’s not smart to find home in other people. But it’s too late for me. You make me feel at home.”

“Literally, I’m crying into my books,” you return, wiping your cheeks. 

“What time are you free on Thursdays? After 6 is good, right?”

You nod, “Yeah, after 6 I’m free.”

“I’ll see you then. We can try that Indian place you pass on the way to class. And I’ll be there to remind you to drink water when you’re grading.”

A soft exhalation of laughter escapes you. “I definitely need that. See you Thursday.”

[gwoongi]

wordless pt.3

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: hitman (john wick au), sugar daddy au, angst rating: mature words: 3.5k warnings: toxic relationships, non graphic sex a/n: im sleepy but hey im also rly glad bts made a statement about the blm movement :D

Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears them again.

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

(21) Sharing your umbrella with them in the rain.

“Yeah, I did, I submitted it on Thursday. What do you mean, did it get a good mark, it’s only Monday.” As you near the front windows of the building, you sigh and stare at the gloomy clouds presented behind the glass. Korea is cold and wet and dark today. “Fuck, rain. Anyway, I’ll call you later, Eunji, okay?”

Eunji agrees and hangs up the phone before you get the chance to, and you’re left in the cool shadow of the largest cloud in the sky. From nine until eleven, you have a morning class on Monday; today, due to request from at least five students confused by the essay title that was due on Friday evening, the class ran for an additional hour and a half, all of the subject material covered with a general extension for the following Fri. Typical, as you rushed it to hand it in before submission.

“Not going home, Y/N?”

You suck your top teeth with disappointment, “Not yet, Professor, I need to make a call.”

The slim professor arrives at your elbow, “Boyfriend?”

“Not really,” you confess. You glance at your phone and find Jeongguk’s number, “but he owes me a few favours here and there, it won’t hurt to bring an umbrella or something.”

“Good luck,” she laughs. She doesn’t offer her umbrella, despite it being tucked under her armpit, and her car is parked in sight close to the windows. At that, she leaves and you send Jeongguk a quick text message. If he’s working presently, the text will annoy him less than a call.

Raining! I’m stuck, can you send some to come and get me?

Jeongguk must be in office, because his reply is speedy. Forget your subway card again?

I never ask for anything, would it hurt you to send someone to get me?

He doesn’t reply for five minutes, and then, Uni, right?

It takes at least fifteen minutes before a vehicle pulls up across the small car-park; it’s a black car, shiny and wet and loud, and you bristle at its entry. Quickly, you hug your coat closer around your body and when you glance back up towards the window, you’re surprised to see Jeongguk himself briskly crossing the lot with an umbrella over his head.

“I’m here to pick up a Y/N L/N, you seen her?” he asks when he reaches the door, smiling as you haul it open and stare at him with happy surprise. “You did not dress for the weather.”

“The app said it would be cloudy,” you huff.

“Baby, it’s January, what did you expect,” Jeongguk sighs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and bringing you closer to his body. Like this, he walks alongside you towards the car and for a moment, he glances around the complex out the corner of his eye. This University isn’t the dog's bollocks, because as much as he’s willing to help fund you at University, he can’t pay for you to be smarter. You’re pretty happy where you are, not being at a big-name University but doing the exact same degree anyways. He’s happy that you’re happy, but if it were him, he’d probably redecorate the front.

(22) Listening to them while they vent.

When Jeongguk vents, he doesn’t just vent. He never sits you down in front of him and lets it all out, nor does he slink away to therapy, or whining over the phone, or sleepy pillow talk where everything feels safer when you’re seconds away from falling asleep.

Instead, Jeongguk fucks away his problems, and as he does it, you tend to get an earful.

“And,” he grunts, one slap, one thrust, “I fucked it up.” One more. “All of it.” Another groan, a deeper push, “Fuck!”

You like to let him get it all out, and on the plus side, you get what you need which is to relieve the pressure of wanting in your stomach. It’s better when he’s angry, better for both of you, and he’s full of apologies when he’s finished, as if he was yelling at you and not at himself.

“Last time I ever work with Taehyung,” he spits. “Fuck. Ugh.”

You’ll ask him about it later.

(23) Taking a picture together to print and hang later.

One night, you’re over at Jeongguk’s. It’s not unusual that you’re here, especially when you’re here so often that his house feels like your own. From the bathroom, the shower runs loudly and Jeongguk sings, mostly to himself, in the water, meanwhile you dance around his kitchen making tea and bringing it to the bedroom where he’ll come in later when he’s done.

His room is golden and warm, and the curtains are drawn but the thin netting softens the sunset outside. You circle around the end of Jeongguk’s bed and set his cup on the bedside table on his side, closest to the window, when you notice something new sitting in a frame by the lamp. Okay, you’ll bite.

You put down both mugs and in exchange pick up the frame. Something warm bubbles inside your stomach as you look down at the frame; the picture, you’ve never seen before, but it’s of you. You remember the photo being taken in Colmar, the time that Jeongguk came to see you to satisfy his own boredom and need. Never did you imagine it would be a photo he’d print, let alone put in a frame next to his bed. It’s a pretty photo, too, with the river behind you and the sun on your skin, your hair only slightly in your face.

Not a perfect photo, but a pretty one. Jeongguk must like it enough to have printed it.

The shower cuts off in the bathroom and you move quickly, protecting an image of innocence as you put the frame back where it once was, and pick up your mug and place it on your bedside table. You’ve placed Jeongguk’s mug so that he could take it both ways. Maybe he’ll think you didn’t see the frame, or maybe he’ll know you did. He must have put it there for a reason, you think, and then you stop thinking when Jeongguk opens the bathroom door and enters the bedroom.

(24) Tracing your names together in the sand.

Jeongguk had a call from Hawaii. It was brief, and you imagine not very pleasant, but he had to go nonetheless. Jeongguk sure as hell wasn’t going to go to Hawaii without you, no matter how dangerous that might be for him. He told you with two hours notice to pack up your shit and meet him at his place. The plane took off three hours later, and Hawaii here you come.

He never liked to be late, or behind schedule, and so the job that needed to be done was done in a record breaking speed. Like always, he’d have some time to kill before needing to flee to avoid the authorities, and when Jeongguk heads back home after the deed is done, he steps into an empty room and his skin runs cold.

“Y/N?” he calls, to no response. He sets down his things and moves around the suite, his eyes darting to every area.

There is a moment where Jeongguk fears for the worst and out of instinct grabs the gun tucked into his belt. He pulls it out in the bedroom but pauses when out of the corner of his eye, he sees a person standing on the beach just outside the window. Jeongguk pauses.

Outside, the sun is warm and burning orange, sinking down into the pretty waves. You could get used to Hawaii, maybe, if you failed at journalism at the end of your degree, or if Jeongguk hurt your feelings enough that you felt living in Korea itself would be too painful to endure.

“Y/N!”

You turn over your shoulder, noticing Jeongguk stepping down from the dunes. He’s still in his suit, a black fit that makes him look slender and tall and absolutely stunning. His hair is still wild and wet and there’s blood on the inside of his blazer, a red that contrasts the white of his shirt. You won’t mention it, because he probably knows already.

“Hey,” you call back.

“It’s- it’s not safe for you to be out here on your own,” he explains, finally by your side. “Fuck, I was worried you’d been kidnapped, or something.”

“Oh, sorry,” you reply. “The sunset was just too pretty.”

Jeongguk sighs with his hands on his hips. “Yeah, it is. Hawaii does sunsets better than Korea, that’s for sure.”

Jeongguk stands next to you and says nothing for a few seconds. The sunset is indeed gorgeous, like something ripped out of a painting from a gallery somewhere fancy and famous. You hum quietly, and jump slightly to the left to grab a large stick off the sand. Jeongguk has to stop himself from smiling as you pick it up, like a kid who pretends the stick is a sword.

“I used to write rude things in the sand for the people in planes who flew past, every single time we went on vacation when I was a kid,” you announce.

Jeongguk laughs, “You were some kid, huh?”

“Maybe you killed the wrong one,” you think, and Jeongguk frowns.

“Can you not bring that up all the time?” You look at him and he frowns deeper, “I know you’re happy about it and stuff, but like...not my proudest moment. Makes me feel sucky.”

“Oh,” you answer. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Just a joke.”

He shrugs, “I know. But still.”

You stab the sand with the stick. “I thought maybe it was like, fitting?”

Jeongguk lifts his head to the sky and closes his eyes. “Can’t we have a trip where we just pretend to be in love or something so I don’t feel so shit about the reason why we came here?”

That shuts you up for a moment, and you turn fully to face him as he continues to stare at the sky.

“Like Colmar, maybe,” you press, and he looks down.

“Yeah.”

It sits there for a bit, like you’re genuinely contemplating it, but then you straighten with a little huff and turn to him.

“Seems fair,” you agree.

Jeongguk almost exhales a sigh of relief and he smiles, genuinely, and follows you across the beach. The tide is a little out, the sand damp where the sea once was and like children, you embrace the fun that’s waiting to be had on the shores. Chasing the waves, running from them, staring at cute crabs that scurry across the sand and laughing at the cute kids that drop their ice creams in the water.

Jeongguk takes the stick gently from your hand and points it towards the white sand, pressing the tip against the grains. You smile against his arm as you bend to see what he draws; the stick drags across the sand and outlines a J, and the first initial of your name. Oh, you think, as he closes them inside a heart and stands back to admire his work.

It’s cute, childishly cute, and he looks proud. Jeongguk beams at you for approval and you smile back, happy.

“Photo,” you say and Jeongguk drops to a crouch near the design and poses with the stick. This photo is cute, probably cuter than the one from Colmar. Jeongguk even lets you keep it.

(25) Wearing clothes in their favourite colour.

Jeongguk’s favourite colour was white, and he loved the way a white shirt or a white coat or any white accessory would look on you. Sadistically he’d love you in the white clothes he ruins, seeing you wrap your body in a white shirt dressed with blood. White was his muse, a colour of purity and innocence. Although he always wore black for work, he had to have an admiration for the colour of white, standard paper or milk white.

Jeongguk knows that your favourite colour is green. He can tell by the amount of green plants around your apartment, and the green blankets and pillows and mugs and the unusual amount of green clothing items you have in your wardrobe. He even remembers the tie you bought him once, a Slytherin green that he actually really likes despite his Hogwarts house being Ravenclaw.

You’ve never actually seen him wear the tie, not until today when Jeongguk makes a quick stop by your apartment as he heads back to the office. He steps inside with a brown bag filled with bagels and he kisses your forehead by the front door and hands them to you. You see the tie and smile; Jeongguk sure as hell looks great in your favourite colour.

(26) Doing a chore for them that you know they aren’t fond of.

You’re lucky that you never really came across Elio, never once when you were at Jeongguk’s home. You had assumed that Elio was sleeping, or elsewhere on days you visited or nights you slept over. To your surprise and perhaps horror, you discovered that Elio had been there all along, just disinterested in coming out to see you from the few rooms that Jeongguk converted into his own personal habitat.

“You just had him here all this time?” you screech quietly, running back into the bedroom after seeing Elio on the couch. “What the fuck.”

“He’s harmless,” Jeongguk shrugs. “He’s not interested in a human diet right now.”

“Right now? That’s not comforting,” you reply. “I’m happy to go through all your shitty paperwork for you, it’s something I actually enjoy, but can you please go out and get them for me?”

Jeongguk cocks his head to the side, “why, can’t find them?”

“They’re in the living room, on the table,” you explain, peering back out, “but Elio’s on the couch.”

He laughs, rising, “He’s not gonna even touch you.”

“He might.”

“He won’t.”

“You don’t know that!”

“No, but he doesn’t hurt me, so he won’t hurt you.”

You gape. “What? He’s your pet, of course he won’t hurt you. He trusts you. He doesn’t even know me.”

Jeongguk sighs loudly and ruffles your hair as he crosses your path. “Whatever. You’re such a fuckin pussy,” then he kisses your neck and heads out into the living room. You quiver by the doorway as he moves without a flinch towards Elio.

The giant cat picks his head up off the couch and yawns in Jeongguk’s direction, his tail swooshing prettily over the side of the couch. His black fur blends into the blanket he lies on and as he blinks slowly, Jeongguk reaches to pet his head and behind his ears. Elio basks in the love, pressing his head further into Jeongguk’s palm, oddly dog-like. Jeongguk spends a few more moments with his beloved exotic and then finally, like he’s reluctant to, picks up the large and messy stack of papers and then walks back towards the bedroom with a smug expression. Elio’s head falls back to sleep.

“Touch me, check I’m still alive after my dangerous encounter,” Jeongguk says, bringing the papers into the room and dropping them on the bed.

“Shut up,” you huff.

(27) Leaving a plate of food in the microwave for when they have a late shift.

A call from Eunji at eight in the evening destroys all the plans you had set in place. Jeongguk had been called to meet with one of the founders of the South Korean Continental, and wouldn’t be back until around nine. You had prepped an entire meal, sitting ready on the side for when he got home.

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t absolutely important,” Eunji apologises, sounding flustered on the line, “I just. I didn’t know who else to call. I went back to the library, I think I got rid of him, but he was definitely following me from the restaurant. Fuck, Y/N, it was so scary.”

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m glad you called me,” you assure her, already putting your shoes on, “I can’t believe he showed up again. Didn’t he get put in jail?”

Eunji hums like she’s not convinced, “Out on bail, eighty kay.”

“Fuck. Do you, uh,” you start, thinking of if it’s okay to say, “want me to call someone else?” Jeongguk?

Eunji is one of the only people alive who knows about Jeongguk. She had been your best friend since you were seven, and was one of the only people who remained by your side after Jeongguk had your brother executed, and after you decided to become Jeongguk’s little play thing for a few weeks until he lost control and kept you around. Eunji’s no stranger to his antics, and if you warped the story a little, Jeongguk would have no issues with sorting the problem at hand.

“No, no, don’t,” Eunji begs. “He’ll take it too far. People will point fingers at me. Can you just come and get me?”

“Of course,” you tell her. “We’ll go back to mine, I can see Jeongguk whenever.”

Eunji exhales in relief, “I love you, you know that? You’re the best friend ever.”

You hang up a few minutes later and stare sadly at the meal. But it can’t be helped. Jeongguk’s bailed on you a thousand times for his colleagues. He wouldn’t mind, after a few hours of thinking about it. You sigh with repent and move the food towards the microwave.

Rescuing Eunji. Call me, I can come back tomorrow. Please eat.

Jeongguk finds the note when he gets home and scrunches it into a ball in the bin.

He eats alone, in silence, the other side of the table still prepped for another person.

(28) Sharing a drink with them from the same straw.

“Enjoy the movie!”

“Thanks.”

Jeongguk takes the two tickets from the vender and steers you towards the corridor that leads to the rooms. On this rare occasion, Jeongguk has decided to court you. Quite literally, Jeongguk had called you up and asked if you wanted to go on a date, or something, because he was bored and liked you most, and he knows there’s a movie you’ve been wanting to see.

“Are you sure you wanna watch it with me?” you ask him, even though he’s already got the tickets and is walking next to you.

“Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I?”

“I just didn’t think you were a cinema kind of person,” you confess.

Jeongguk hums, “To be honest, I’m not. But this movie looks good, and you wanna see it, and how often do we do things that you wanna do?”

It’s true.

The cinema room is dark and empty, since you’re both early to begin with. As always, it’s a little bit sticky and smelly, and Jeongguk pushes you towards the back row because it is inarguably the best place to sit in the cinema. You set down the large drink in between you both, two straws poking out in each of your directions.

“It’s great this movie is showing here,” you say quietly.

“Yeah, well the LGBT plus movement is really popular now, people are a lot more accepting of it,” Jeongguk states. “I mean, look at how well The Handmaiden did.”

You nod, “great movie.”

“It is,” he agrees. A few minutes later and the lights dim significantly, the movie is probably about to start. Jeongguk leans to the left a little and sips from the drink.

(29) Tucking their hair behind their ear to help them get it out of their face.

Uni’s tough, nobody said it wasn’t. Jeongguk doesn’t really understand this, since he never went to University. He brings a mug of tea from the kitchen to his bedroom where you’re sitting cross-legged staring at a laptop, setting it to the side and sitting just behind you but to your side, watching you closely.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what,” you mutter dimly.

“Overworking yourself,” Jeongguk replies, “I can see your brain fucking pulsing against your skull.”

You sigh loudly. “I can’t do this. Why did I enroll in University? I should have just put it all away after high school and become a trophy wife.”

Jeongguk’s brows furrow. “You can still be a trophy wife, you’ll just be a smart one.”

You look at him. “I’m not smart enough for this.”

For a while, Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, and he just sits listening to you. As you vent, and open up about how hard it is to do this damn degree, Jeongguk watches your face and your body and uses his fingers to gently tuck the hair that falls in front of your face behind your ear. The passion that pours out of you when you’re frustrated is an unspoken beauty that you’re not even aware of, and Jeongguk eats it up.

He does what he can to put you at ease, because things he says in encouragement are things you already know anyway. Like all humans, all you need is a little bit of love, and Jeongguk’s happy to give it if it means you’re happy with him.

(30) Helping scratch that itch on their back they can’t reach.

“Can’t reach. Baby, scratch my back for me?”

You cringe away from the TV, “what the fuck am I? Your maid?”

“Please?”

You sigh. “Where’s it itching?”

“Thanks, you’re the best.”

“You don’t pay me enough for this.”

“I don’t pay you at all.”

Sigh. “Exactly.”

[collecting-stories]

Okay so I totally meant to tel you what was going on Thursday, but then I was also trying to study and forgot. Anyway I had two exams last week one Monday and one Friday and I spent like 5 hours a day in the library last week between trying to get all my homework done and trying to study (gotta love being a STEM major) so to say that my brain was pretty much fried all week would be an understatement. So Wednesday night I come back to my dorm it's like 10 pm I really just want to get ready for bed and go to sleep, one of my suitemates comes in (my dorm is a suite so there's four of us and so on one side is me and my roommate then the bathroom connects our room to the other room where my roommate's adopted sibling and their best friend live, these girls have known each other since diapers and I literally met them move in day) so the sibling (we'll call them E) comes in and is like "hey my therapist wants me to get my cat registered as an emotional support animal and bring my cat here to live with us but I need everyone's approval so how do you feel about having a cat here" and I was like "It should be fine, but I'd like some time to think about it". Obviously I wasn't going to say no, one because I'm not a b*tch and two with it being 3 of them against one of me I couldn't say no if I wanted to. All I wanted was some time to think things through and go ahead and get some ground rules and boundaries established so the cat doesn't become a problem. So I get up the next morning I go to class immediately after my 11 am class lets out I have to go do community service at the public library, I get back from that I have literally 10 minutes to be at my next class and E comes back into my room and is like " So what did you decide about the cat bc my therapist wants to start that paperwork today and I go to see her at 3". I was kind of ticked about it, obviously it's not the fact that they need the cat, or that I don't like cats (I love cats but I am kind of allergic) it was just the way they gave me literally less than 24 hours to think about it, they knew I was extremely stressed/busy, and I felt kind of rushed/forced to do it. Which probably sounds really petty and dumb of me, and I will admit maybe if I hadn't been so stressed and tired it wouldn't have bothered me as much but Thursday was a day. I literally ended up eating dinner in the library again (it still feels weird we're allowed to eat in there) and then spilled buble all over myself later that night, and I was just sitting on the floor somewhere between laughing and sobbing and the rest of my study group was like 🤨. Anyway the test went okay I think, and I'm feeling a lot better now that I've been able to R&R a little ~ 🌵

Sorry it took me a while to respond to this! That’s a lot on your plate and I’m sorry that you felt like your roommate was kind of steamrolling you into a decision, that’s terrible! Honestly roommates can be great or they can be the worst and it’s difficult when they know each other and you’re coming in as the new person. I hope things with the cat work out alright and at least the cat won’t be in your room all the time, right? Just make sure they keep the litter in their room too lol, I wouldn’t want that out in the main area!

I hope the test went well too and that your week has improved!