#filters in my drawer (she used to go through my stuff all the time) that i was LITERALLY KEEPING FOR A FRIEND and she dragged me out on the

[strozzaprete]

not to be morbid on main but my life is so strange every day i'm fighting with my inner suicidal child trying to convince her to stay alive out of spite for our enemies

[kinetic-elaboration]

March 3: Bellarke, Adoration

Bellamy/Clarke, from the same verse as Make a Lot of Money and Feel Dead Inside

For the prompt "adoration" from my July Break Bingo 2023 bingo card

~1360 words, written in about 40 minutes

*

In the early pre-dawn hours, Clarke stalks through Bellamy's apartment, stealing her fingers across his possessions like a burglar. This is how she will come to learn him again. The small, square rooms are shadowed in soft grays, only the hints of sunbeams filtering through the curtains, dust motes in the widest and strongest of them. The fake-wood floors are smooth and cool beneath her bare feet. She examines the cracks in the spine of the paperback on his coffee table, something science fiction from a library book sale, the call number crossed out on the bottom; she smells the coffee mug left sitting next to it, completely empty, stained on the inside from repeated use. She looks for dust on the flat, shiny leaves of the only plant. She picks up the sweater lying over the back of the sofa, scrunches up the heavy, cabled fabric in her hands, presses it against her face and holds it there.

In the silence all around her, she can hear the tiniest disruptive sounds. The traffic on the street below. The sound of a door closing somewhere in the hall, the click of a lock. If she listens hard enough and holds her breath, she can hear her own heart beating at all of her pulse points. Last night, he kissed them one by one. Her wrists, her neck. He counted each of her ribs. She'd come back to him for this alone, because no one else has ever been so thorough and so patient with her. No one else has ever catalogued every detail of her like Bellamy has, like he's memorizing her, like he's obsessed with her.

She slips on quiet feet into the kitchen. The tile makes her shiver. She's in one of Bellamy's t-shirts and her own underwear from last night that she picked up off the floor, and goosebumps pinch and form down the bare skin of her arms like small pebbles. In the drawer, she counts the knives and the forks and the spoons. Extra plasticware from take-out arranged neatly to the side. Only two mugs and a plate and a fork in the sink, a few more dishes left out drying on the rack. He's become neat. Not that he was ever the worst—but she remembers sneaking into his room in eighth grade, finding piles of laundry on the dull brown carpet and a tower of CDs leaning so precariously, she'd thought she might breathe wrong and send them toppling. A notebook sitting on his desk that might have been math homework or a diary. She'd imagined it was the latter, and if she'd had another moment in the room, she would have opened it. By the time she graduated high school, he was letting her read all his stuff. Those were the days they'd had no secrets from each other.

She leans back against his refrigerator. She's already counted every item inside it. She's imagined him eating strawberries and leftover fried rice and putting creamer in his coffee and she's tried to taste those same tastes on her tongue—what if she could become him? Last night at dinner he'd been quiet and polite, steady like it was a first date and she was someone he wanted to impress. His hair was cut short so, if she didn't know him so well, she wouldn't know that it curled when it grew. He talked about going back to school, asked her questions about the things she'd already told him in their emails back and forth, said on three separate occasions how good it was to see her again. I missed you, I missed you, I missed you.

So polite and formal. The soap in his shower smells like pine, his hand soap like nothing at all. His toothbrush looks new, the bristles on it stiff and barely faded. In his medicine cabinet, ibuprofen and floss. He's responsible. Last night he asked her if she wanted to spend the night before he made any assumptions at all. In high school, he had her hand up her shirt the very first time they kissed.

She'd had a crush on him since the sixth grade. Since she was eleven years old, and he was thirteen. Octavia knew—Clarke told her or she'd guessed, doesn't matter anymore which—maybe it was so obvious that only Bellamy himself could never have figured it out. That was one of the periods where he hung out with them less. Octavia said he was dating a girl in his grade and that had seemed somehow inevitable and impossible both. Bellamy, with a life outside of their friendship; Bellamy falling for someone who wasn't her, when he was supposed to fall for her and be forever with her.

The summer after graduation, he'd driven them all the way out to the next town over, like they were running away, rented a hotel room and told her, You're going to find someone so much better than me. Sounded angry when he said it. He'd been angry often then. Not picking fights but letting her pick them, while he moped around feeling so sorry for himself, and always on a hair trigger—jumpy when she touched him. She asked him if he wanted his jacket back and he said not a fucking chance. He said you're going to be better than all of us and then that he didn't want to talk anymore and then he spent what must have been an hour with his head between her legs.

That's how she remembers it now. Jump cuts and haze and how terrified she had been.

Now he's so upstanding. She's a burnout. And she can't tell him for the same reason he didn't tell her about all of his ancillary jobs back then, cause he had some sort of idea that there existed anything in the world she'd judge him for. Maybe the secrets are where the anger was coming from. By her own logic, she should tell him everything. But he looks at her like she's a goddess.

She catalogues the books on his shelf, the neat stack of notebooks on the bottom one, the photographs in rectangular brown frames on his desk.

If she takes in enough details she'll know him again, she'll know him, she'll take in everything there is to know and she'll have him and he'll always be hers—she'll own him as in blackmail and as in possession and as in true love. What can she do to prove it? Where can she worship? What could she destroy so that he understands her true devotion?

The thoughts, in their circular patterns, drive her mad.

In the small, square bedroom, with its single window and its bed right in the center, and their clothes still scattered on the floor, she pauses for a moment, feeling the way her breath hitches in her throat. Bellamy is sleeping on his back, one of his arms flailed across the mattress, one of his legs bent at the knee. She wets her lips. She stalks closer on her bare feet.

She climbs up over the foot of the bed.

She climbs over him and hovers above his chest.

His freckles are just the same. The ridge of his eyebrows, the shape of his nose and mouth. The delicacy of his eyelids, closed in sleep. No one else has ever understood him like this, and no one else ever could, all the way down to the worst of him—not like her, because she was there. And even if someone could, or if he wanted to trade understanding for calm placidity, for ease—even then, no one else could ever adore him like this. She adores him. She is bound to worship and adoration. She loves all the parts of him he fears and abhors in himself—and she believes of him what he once said of her: you'll be the best of all of us. He already is.

He'd never believe her. Those are the best kept secrets: the ones that would never be believed.

She leans down and kisses the soft spaces beneath his eyes, and waits for him to stir.

[queenofbaws]

Hey Queenie! Happy, fluffy prompts for NYE you say?🧐 You know I'm gonna shamelessly use your generosity to push the Laura/Max agenda, right? I've gotta say, I like the look of prompt No.1 on that OTP NYE prompt list (about the resolutions) and Oneliner No. 9 (NYE proposal)... Pick whichever you like better (or find a way to combine them if you dare😈) - Most importantly: have fun with it! I hope you have a great time over the holidays and throroughly enjoy the last week of 2022!💕

“Am I going to sound like a total Grinch if I say I’m glad we’re not going the party route this year?” Laura asked as she stretched out on the couch, her fuzzy pjs rumpled and her hair still messy with sleep despite the afternoon sun filtering in through the apartment’s blinds. “It just takes so much pressure off, not having to drive to and from someone else’s place in the dark, not having to make small-talk with a million people…not having to put on pants,” she added with a laugh, the sound turning into a groan when Silas, their not-so-puppy-sized Labrador pup hopped up onto the couch to lie right on top of her.

“Doesn’t make you sound like a Grinch at all, hun,” Max said, the size of the apartment making it so he barely had to raise his voice for her to hear him from the bedroom. “Buuut mostly that’s just because the Grinch really only cared about Christmas. You could be a new Grinch, though! One that, uh…shoot, okay, hang on, how would you go about ruining an entire village’s New Year’s Eve?”

She scratched Silas’s big, floppy ears as she thought on it. “I could…replace all the confetti with glitter.” From the bedroom, she heard Max pull in a scandalized gasp, and that had her laughing all over again. “That’s more of a long game, though. It’d probably be really pretty in the moment, it’d just take them until the next ice age to clean up after. If I really wanted to ruin the night itself, I could…um…ooh, sneak into all their little Who-Houses and block New Year’s Rockin’ Eve on all their tvs.”

“Don’t even joke about that – I heard they got Ariana Grande this year.”

“Oh, can’t miss that,” Laura kidded, craning her head back to watch him as he joined her in the living room. “Whatcha got there?” she asked when she spotted the piece of loose-leaf Max was looking down at, his fingers absently folding and unfolding it along a middle crease.

He didn’t look up from it, but his mouth turned up in a smile all the same. “Right, like I’m going spill my New Year’s secrets to the Grunch.”

“I…okay, hang on. No.”

“It’s a no on the Grunch?”

“It’s a no on the Grunch. Can we try another vowel, maybe? Like…how do we feel about the Granch? Hold on, no, that one’s…also bad. The…Gronch?”

“The Grench is probably easier to rhyme stuff with. For the song. Wrench, bench, drench, silen…ch…?”

“Grench it is.” Laura gave Silas one last hearty ear-scratch then wriggled out from under him, standing and stretching as she joined Max. She set her chin on his shoulder, but before she could get even the sneakiest peek at what was on the paper, he folded it shut tight and angled it away from her.

“What did I just say? Go Grench up someone else’s stuff.” He leaned in to press a kiss to the bridge of her nose before laughing, unfolding the wrinkled paper again. “This is…incredibly embarrassing, but…I was going through my drawers just now and I think, uh…I think I found last year’s list of New Year’s resolutions. Or this one’s? The ones I thought I’d do this year, let’s put it this way.”

“Uh oh.”

“I mean, okay, it’s not…it’s not that bad,” he said, his defensiveness purely for show. “Look, I definitely did this one! So I can cross that off, no prob! Do you have a pen? Here, let me find a pen…”

Laura snatched the paper away from him as she felt him move, and by the time she’d straightened it out in her own hands and interpreted the worst of his scribbly chickenscratch, she could hear him rummaging around in the kitchenette’s junk drawer. “Well one thing’s for sure,” she snickered under her breath, “cursive wasn’t a priority this year.”

One, read the sheet, Learn Spanish. Two, Work out more. Three, Train Silas. Four, Less fast food, more homecooked meals. And then, perplexingly, Five, DO THE THING!!!

Laura flipped the sheet over a couple times, just to make sure there weren’t any other surprises written on the other side. She turned as Max came back, pen in hand, but when he went to grab the list from her, she held it out of reach as he had a moment ago. “I’m sorry, which one of these do you think you did?” she teased, leaning further and further back the more he reached out towards her. “Cuz I gotta be honest, Max, I…don’t think any of these happened.”

“And that’s why you’re the Grench.” He made another swipe for the list, and when Laura ducked out of the way, tongue stuck out, he turned to the dog lazing on the couch. “Okay, you’re gonna make me pull out the big guns, huh? That’s fine. Silas! Sic her!” Max pointed an accusatory finger towards her as he gave the command, and Silas did perk his ears up…for all of a second. Then he went back to lying down, his tail thumping against a throw pillow. “C’mon, boy, we talked about this…”

With the brattiest grin she could manage, Laura held the list back out to Max, giving her fingers a teasing flourish when he grabbed it up. “Well, I guess we know which one you didn’t do…”

“All right, all right, perhaps I overestimated some of the intensive guard dog training we’ve been doing all year.”

“Uh huh.”

“Every single day.”

“Okay.”

“We wait until you’re at work or asleep, and then all bets are off.” He laughed, crossing something off the list before shaking his head down at it again. “Hey, since I totally didn’t judge you for sounding like the Grunch earlier – ”

“Grench,” she corrected, probably a little too quickly, given how awful the name was to begin with.

“ – am I going to sound like a total sap if I tell you I’m actually kind of…I dunno, disappointed that I didn’t do this stuff? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know pretty much everyone drops their resolutions like a hot box of rocks after February or whatever, but…it’s still sort of a bummer.” He glanced her way again, and that time she wasn’t so sure his defensiveness was of the joking variety. “That’s probably dumb, huh?”

She blew a raspberry as she tied her hair back out of her face, peering back down at the list with him. “What? No way! There’s nothing dumb about it, babe – feel your feelings.” Her eyes slowly moved down the list once more, and as she tucked herself against his side, his arm instinctively wrapping around her to bring her closer, a plan began to hatch.

Something resembling a plan, anyway.

“You know what?” she asked, jabbing a finger at the list. “This is what we’re going to do today.”

“What?”

“Yeah…yeah! We don’t have a party to go to, we don’t have people expecting us to show up and be social, so…yeah! Let’s resolve some resolutions!”

Max brightened at that, giving her waist a squeeze. “And the Grench’s heart grew three sizes that day…I’ll save this New Year’s, the Whos in Whoville all heard her say…”

It was with a playful shove that she slid out of his grasp, rolling her eyes and flapping her hand like a sock puppet. “Put some shoes on, I think I know how we can kill a couple birds with one stone,” she said over her shoulder as she headed for the bedroom, trying to decide which of her jackets would best hide her pjs. “Oh, but hey,” Laura added, pulling open one of the dresser drawers to rummage for a pair of socks. “What’s ‘The Thing?’”

“Uh?”

“The…The Thing!” she said again, rolling her eyes at herself that time. “On the list! Number five said ‘Do The Thing.’”

“Yeah?”

“Sooo,” she drew the word out as she pulled her socks on. “What is it? The Thing? That’s what you crossed off just now, wasn’t it?”

“Oh. Yeah. I’ve got no idea.”

She walked back out of the bedroom to find Max lacing his snow boots, and all she could do was sigh. “You don’t know? It was on the list!”

“Well yeah, but I mean…I think you’ll agree, it wasn’t particularly, uh, descriptive.” He flashed her a sheepish grin when he caught the look on her face, the one that was only pretending to be exasperated. “Look, whatever it is, or was, I think it’s pretty safe to assume I probably did it. Right?”

The jingle of his leash had Silas bounding after them. Laura bent to clip it to his collar, shaking her head the whole time. “For sure. For sure.”

---

To his credit, Max hadn’t complained once during the outing to the pet store. Those bags of dog food weren’t exactly light, but he’d handled them like a champ, even when their detour down the squeaky toy aisle lasted longer than expected. The grocery store, however, turned out to be a different story.

“When my arms fall off, please promise me you’ll tell my mom I lost them doing something heroic,” he grunted, wincing as Laura put yet another two-liter of soda into the handbasket he was holding. “Or, I don’t know, super masculine at least. Like…oh, like arm wrestling a lumberjack.”

“Oh, hi Mrs. Brinly. Yeah, the arm thing. It’s…kind of hard to explain. So we were buying pancake mix, you know, like you do, and there was only one box left. Max went for it at the same time as this huge, rugged, beardy guy wearing flannel, and wouldn’t you know it, next thing I know, they’re arm wrestling on a crate of flour.”

“Geez, you’re good at that. Too good.”

“Why thank you!” To even him out, she placed a bottle of juice in the other handbasket, wrinkling her nose up in a mischievous grin as she got a good look at everything they’d picked up so far. “That’s probably enough for a New Year’s in, don’t you think? We got the drinks, we got snacks, we got…”

“An anvil…”

“An anvil,” she agreed. “Aaand…all the fixings for, say it with me, a good old-fashioned homecooked meal. Instead of fast food. Between that and all this heavy lifting, I think you’ve totally earned two more checkmarks on that resolution list.”

Max didn’t need to be told twice – the instant ‘That’s probably enough’ had come out of her mouth, he’d turned on his heel, making for the cash registers. There was a hot second there were he wobbled with the weight of the baskets, but he caught himself just as quickly, shooting her a look that made it very clear he was awfully proud of his own resilience. “Totally.”

“Totally!”

“This is more working out than I remember doing last year.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” she joked, snagging a big box of Christmas tree-shaped chocolates from the discount rack. She’d had every intention of carrying it herself – really! – but Max made a dramatic ‘ahem’ sound and attempted to lift one of the baskets, so she wedged it in there to appease him. “And let’s be real, most people are definitely ordering pizza or something tonight, so us having a nice sit-down dinner? That’s gotta count.”

“Gotta,” he agreed. “Now, I’ll be the first to tell you I don’t really see how we’re going to swing the rest of the list, but…”

“Now who’s being all Grenchy?” She watched him struggle to lift the baskets up to the checkout counter for all of five seconds before she took pity on him and his overtaxed arms, scootching close to begin pulling each item out one by one to put on the cashier’s conveyor belt. “Don’t sweat it,” she said with a peck to his cheek. “I’m resolved to resolve these resolutions.”

“How resolute of you.”

She laughed when he set the empty baskets down and dramatically began rubbing his biceps, his relief brought to an abrupt end as she teased, “Can’t wait to see you carry this stuff all the way back to the car.”

---

There was a certain sort of joy that came with hearing your very grown-up boyfriend following very closely along with Dora the Explorer. She wasn’t sure it was a sort of joy she had a name for, exactly, only that it more or less had the same effect of getting the giggles in an important class – if she didn’t pour all of her focus into something else, it was too easy to collapse into delighted laughter. Already her stomach hurt, and it’d only been one episode!

“Sounds like you’re making good progress in there!” she called into the kitchen, taking it upon herself to pick up the resolution list from the side table where it’d been left, crossing out numbers two and four.

“Gracias,” Max called back over the sound of a singing map and the sizzle of cooking chicken. “Which is Spanish for thank you.”

“You don’t say.” Laura stood back up and ambled to join him in the kitchen, walking up and wrapping her arms around him from behind. “Smells good,” she said, stealing a quick finger-scoop of mashed potatoes. “Have you figured out how to say ‘smells good’ in Spanish yet?”

“No,” Max pretended to sigh, flipping a piece of chicken and stepping back into her as he dodged a small spatter of oil. “Which, if you were wondering, is Spanish for ‘no.’”

“Amazing.”

“Right? I really feel like I’m expanding my horizons here.”

“You know, I was thinking about it just now, and didn’t you take, like…three years of Spanish back in high school? Why do I remember you taking Spanish in high school?”

“Uh, that would be because I took three years of Spanish back in high school. I just had…other priorities.”

“Wow. Artful way to say you didn’t pay attention.”

“Thank you! Er, gracias. It’s nowhere near as good as your lumberjack story, but it gets the job done. Can you pass me the pepper, maybe?”

She groaned into the back of his shirt as though letting go of him was a physical pain, resisting for as long as she could. “Si,” she laughed, dropping her arms from his middle and turning to look around until she spotted the pepper shaker on the countertop. “Which, just fyi – ”

“I know what ‘si’ means, Laura.”

“Are you sure?”

“Si. Which is Spanish for ‘duh.’”

“Oh, is it?”

“Mhm. It is.”

“Learn something new every day.” After she handed him the pepper, she turned back around again, looking down at Silas as he lay in the doorway, his head on his paws and his big, dark eyes melting her heart with that puppy-dog begging he was just so good at. “I sure hope you have ideas for how you’re gonna train this one to do anything before the year’s out in a few hours, because I’ve got nothing.”

Seeming to sense he was about to get attention – or, even better, some of that chicken – Silas lifted his head up, his tail giving a tentative wag. It wasn’t that he wasn’t a smart lil’ guy…if anything, he was maybe a little too smart, since he always seemed to know exactly how to get his way with the least effort possible. It’d been sheer dumb luck that’d gotten him to walk on a leash; everything else was pretty much a no-go, from the simplest tricks to basic obedience. The idea of teaching him to do…well, much of anything before the clock struck midnight wasn’t just far-fetched, it was almost ridiculous!

Max hardly seemed daunted, though. Maybe crossing everything else off his resolution list had inflated his confidence. “Oh, c’mon, it can’t be that hard,” he said, very, very pointedly ignoring the look she gave him in response to that. “Right, bud? You’re trainable, aren’t you?”

Silas’s tail thumped a little louder against the floor.

“See? He’s down.”

“He’s down with that chicken, that’s what he is.”

“And that’s all we need! Now, watch and learn…” He cut off a sliver of chicken and checked to see whether it was cooked. It must’ve been, because he blew on it a couple times to cool it off, then held it up where Silas could see it. “Okay, you ready for game time, boy?” Max asked, grinning Laura’s way when Silas got up onto his feet, not just his tail but his entire back end wagging back and forth at the promise of sweet, sweet chicken. “How about…sit! Sit! I, uh…no? Okay, uh…paw?” He held his other hand, the one not holding the chicken, out towards him, wiggling his fingers. “Shake?”

Laura couldn’t help but grin right back, folding her arms across her chest as she watched the spectacle. Not that ‘spectacle’ was the right word. ‘Spectacle’ sort of suggested something was happening – anything. That wasn’t really the case.

“Roll over?” Max tried, his voice taking on a plaintive tone. “Uh…speak? Speak! Um…” Again, he shot a look towards her, his grin significantly more sheepish now. Something must’ve occurred to him then, because she swore she could almost see the cartoonish lightbulb appear over his head. “Okay, boy, how about this? Just stand there. Don’t do anything else. Stay! Stay.”

They paused for a beat, the two of them, just watching to see what Silas would do.

And when he did absolutely nothing, Max tossed him the piece of chicken and beamed. “Good boy! There, see? Totally trainable.”

“I can’t believe I doubted you. You know, maybe this year one of your resolutions should be building us some shelves for all the dog show trophies he’s definitely going to win.”

“Maybe it should,” he laughed. “But hey, could you do me one more favor and get some plates down? It’s definitely that I need to flip this chicken again, by the way. Has nothing to do with my arms feeling like wet spaghetti noodles. Because they don’t. At all.”

She hummed in agreement, stopping to pet Silas’s head before reaching up to the cupboard where they kept the plates. “You should workout less next year, while we’re drafting new resolutions. Give yourself a break, you know? You really pushed yourself this year.”

“Tell me about it.”

---

It was crazy how quickly the day had flown by. Laura felt like it’d only been a minute ago that she’d been lazing on the couch with the sun on her face, but as they sat surfing channels while waiting for Ariana Grande’s much-anticipated New Year’s performance, the world outside their blinds was pitch black except for a few fat snowflakes drifting by every so often.

She stretched her arms out with a groan of exertion, then snuggled back against Max’s side, tucking her feet underneath the blanket they kept draped over the couch’s arm. “So, whaddya think?” she asked as they breezed past the millionth commercial for the millionth gym to be played in the past three minutes. “Who had a better change of heart – me or the Grinch?”

“Hmm,” Max hummed, the arm draped around her shoulders moving just enough that he could curl a piece of her hair around his finger. “The Grinch.”

“Um, excuse me?” Playfully, she pushed his hand away, angling herself to stare him down. “Explain yourself.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. I worked some crazy New Year’s miracles today! Or, some crazy New Year’s technicalities, anyway. Which are pretty much the same thing, honestly.”

“Okay, fair, fair.” Without her cuddling up beside him, Max laced his fingers behind his head and rested back against them. “But…to be totally fair…look at it this way. The Grinch? Brought Christmas to a whole town.”

“After stealing it from them,” she pointed out. “In the dead of night. And like, lying to a child. And eating all their Who-hash. Whatever that is.”

He acted as though he hadn’t heard her, his gaze taking on a distant cast, as though he were really thinking about the comparison. “You, on the other hand, I will admit, definitely saved my year by helping me cross off almost all my resolutions, but – ”

“Wait,” Laura said, sitting up a little bit straighter. “Waitwaitwait. Almost? What’s this almost?” When he didn’t immediately answer, she threw her arms out to her sides. “We crossed everything off your list, Max!”

His eyes snapped back to her, his expression one of abject doubt. “Uh. Okay, only, weee…didn’t.”

“We did! I…we did!” Only now he had her doubting herself, too. One by one, Laura raised her fingers, counting resolutions off on them. “You worked out more, sort of. And you taught Silas a trick, sort of. You learned Spanish…sort of. And we had a homecooked meal instead of fast food! Oh, and you did The Thing, I guess. Probably. Whatever that was.”

“Whatever that was,” he agreed. “But hun, that’s only five.”

She rolled her eyes to him, searching his face for any sign he was kidding around. As far as she could tell, he wasn’t, but…but that couldn’t be right! It’d been a minute since she’d looked at his list, sure, so it was possible that she was forgetting something, and yet…

Instead of arguing with him, she untangled herself from the blanket and walked over to the side table where they’d left the list. She picked it up and scanned it again, and while Max’s handwriting was just as terrible as it had been that morning, no matter how many times she read over it or flipped it to its other side, there were only the same five resolutions.

“Max,” she sighed, turning back towards him with the list in her hands. “Babe, there’s only fi – ” Only Max wasn’t on the couch anymore; he must’ve gotten up when she had, because he was standing right in front of her, that same sheepish smile on his face as he plucked the list from her hands and folded it over, sliding it into his own back pocket.

“Okay, actually, I sort of fibbed a little,” he said, and something about his tone, or how quickly he was talking, or something, gave her heart a tiny flutter. “There weren’t six. There were just five, like you said. Buuut…uh, I crossed one off sort of, um, let’s say prematurely? So I kind of…need your help with that one too. Since you’ve been helping me with the others all day.”

“Oookay,” she said slowly. “I…wait, is this about ‘Do The Thing?’ You liar! I knew something was off when you were all ‘Oh, I probably did it!’ There was no way you forgot what it was! I should’ve…” Her words ran dry, though, as Max took her hand in his and, with the other, brought out a small box from the pocket where he’d stashed his resolution list.

“It…is about ‘Do The Thing,’” Max admitted. “Except, like I said, I sort of…need your help on this one, so…” Squeezing her hand tighter, he used the index finger of his other hand to lever the box open, revealing the ring nestled inside. “Do you wanna…do the thing? With me? If it’s, y’know…not too cliché to propose on New Year’s Eve?”

She didn’t even need to think about it.

Laura grabbed Max’s face in both her hands, pulling him into an exuberant kiss he gladly returned. “Yes!” she laughed, grinning so hard her cheeks began to hurt. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Let’s do the thing – let’s do the thing!” And just like that, he slid the ring onto her finger, she pulled him into another kiss, and on the tv behind them a crowd cheered as the clock rolled over to midnight, the new year starting off precisely how it was meant to.

[thekristen999]

I’m journaling about my mom to help me work through things. Under a cut for those who would rather scroll on by.

My week has consisted of searching for documents for my mom’s medicaid emergency application. The lockbox containing all her important stuff is missing the things I need. Papers that were there months ago and are now scattered in various drawers. My mom kept great records, and hindsight being what is is, I should have taken them even when she insisted they remain with her. (I have no idea why she started messing with them)

I’ve also had to appeal her hospital stay becasue insurance will stop paying for it.  The medicaid doughnut-hole is a very real thing. She never needed home-care, so she has no medical expenses to reduce her income needed for medicaid, but she doesn't have medicaid, so no long-term care facility will admit her yet.

I hate seeing her in a hospital. She is in this awful limbo. She’s used to walking and going outside and riding her stationary bike. Being forced to remain in a hospital wing only adds to her confusion.

I try to see her once a week, but the distance is a challenge.  I just want her to be comfortable and safe. I want to be able to offer her reassurance in person.

I’ve been told by the social worker that this could last several months and I’m finding a way to come to terms to this new normal until things are finally stabilize.

I’m still coming to terms how fast her decline occurred, but I’ve been reassured I was doing all the right things. But if she did have mini-stokes, like the doctor suspects, there was no way of predicting how fast her dementia would accelerate.

tagging ‘my mom’ so you can filter for your own mental health.  I appreciate everyone’s messages. I’ve read them and they’ve given me comfort. I’m taking things one day at a time and I’m finding ways to keep my own mental health strong. Working a lot from home allows me to do things during the day so that I can keep my evenings free to have time for myself.

[1kook]

netflix & chill

summary If you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality. warnings grinding, 2 seconds of sub kook, oral (f), cum eating, vanilla but [ passionate ], unprotected sex, dirty talk tags use of the oldest trick in the book (“your hands are sooo big”), shy oblivious AND gentleman jk? pick a struggle, brief ment of app developer kook, evil and conniving oc wc 10.2k !! wow!!

will I ever write a serious jk fic? NO. this entire thing was based off this pic of jungkook which i’ve said before that i would print out in sepia filter and crumple and stuff in a drawer n then tell my kids 35 years from now was a long lost lover i met on a cruise to the bahamas and never saw again ty to mia more @daechwlta​ for being there during my brief crisis over this fic 🥺

When Namjoon had first not so subtly mentioned the idea of setting you up on a date, it was with a faux air of disinterest that you had masterfully pried the details out of him. Namjoon has a friend, he said, a friend who was kinda sorta attached to his hip. And while Namjoon loved the kid, he also thought this friend could use some social interaction outside of Namjoon.

Now you and Namjoon weren’t exactly the most conventional of friends for him to be proposing blind dates to you at whim. He was your senior at school, your mentor in your scholarship program, an educated man studying for his masters. So when he’d first uttered the words you were immediately on the fence. Sure, the two of you knew each other well and probably got along better than most mentor-mentee pairings among your year, but you doubt Namjoon knew enough of your tastes to offer you up for a blind date.

According to Namjoon, his friend was a kid in the same year as you, making him not so much as a kid as he was your classmate. You brushed it off at first, spewing some bullshit excuse that you’d rather focus on your studies, and how dating was a distraction to your education, as if you hadn’t spent the weekend prior binge watching some Spanish novella while you dutifully ignored your essay.

The second time Namjoon mentions it you agree on the spot. Life on campus could only be interesting for so long, so you might as well make the best of it and go on as many stupid dates as possible.

Namjoon is over the moon.

He tells you he’ll pass your phone number on over to that friend of his—“Jeon Jungkook”—and promises you you won’t regret this because his friend was amazing, really. And for Namjoon to sing his praises for just any underclassmen was unheard of. In fact, besides you, you don’t think Namjoon knows many other students younger than him, and if he did, you hardly doubt he would regard them so highly.

So he gives his friend your number, and so ends your weekly meeting with your mentor. You only realize on the walk back to your dorm that you forgot to ask him about some club at school, the whole goal of this week’s meeting, but by then you don’t really care, the whole conversation fading into the background.

In fact, you forget about the whole ordeal until Friday night rolls around and you’re once again, binge watching another novella on your laptop, when your phone suddenly vibrates.

You were by no means a loser at school, a friendless nobody, but you were also not the outgoing, school-spirited student on the front page of your school’s website, and thus had nearly every app that could produce a notification on your phone muted, every text thread silenced. The only notifications and messages you allowed were from your email and from your roommate, and considering the fact Doyeon was face down in a puddle of her own mid-semester tears right across from you, it was probably your email.

Much to your surprises, it isn’t that “Monday’s Class is CANCELLED” email you were hoping for, but instead some unknown number in a text notification. You roll your eyes, click it open thinking it’s a reminder from some store or from some guy claiming to be from your bank, only to pause at the words written inside the little grey bubble.

hey its jungkook!!! joon gave me your number to I guess ask you on a date soo are you free tmrw night??

The excessive punctuation reminds you a little bit of your kid sister back home and the dorky emails she’ll send you from time to time. It’s with that memory and a smile on your face, that you’re suddenly reminded of what exactly this message is saying. “Oh shit,” you mumble, moving to sit up and reread the text. Doyeon complaining loudly in the background has you reading it twice more before you understand it, and by then there’s a fluttery feeling in your chest.

You were by no means easily swayed by people, but this guy had received praise from Kim Namjoon of all people, so he definitely had some prestige to his name. He doesn’t seem overbearing from this one text he’d sent, but he also didn’t seem completely disinterested.  

You try to match his nonchalant energy, letting him know you were in fact free and down to meet him, just to let you know more details.

You won’t lie, there’s a giddy feeling bubbling within you at the prospect of getting all dolled up, hitting the town, pawning a free meal off some unsuspecting college soul, and maybe even hitting it off. It’s been a while since you’ve dated, sue you.

Jeon Jungkook’s response crushes those dreams as well as hurdles you straight into a nightmare.

cool!! was thinking i could cook for us at my place, drink a little wine, maybe Netflix and chill a little bit??

You are blown away by the absolute gall of this man, to butter you up by painting a pretty picture only to reduce you to a mere booty call. The fact he had felt confident enough to say all that within the same sentence blows your mind.

Did this Jeon Jungkook, who you had no idea of what he looked like, who had no idea of what you looked like, seriously just invite you over for some quote unquote Netflix and chill?

Who, in the ever living hell, was this guy who so sleazily invited women over to fuck with no qualms about who they were?

You’re offended that Namjoon would set you up like this, pawn you off to such a greasy friend. But then again, you guess not everyone knows their friends thoroughly, because this Jeon Jungkook flirtatiously inviting your over for some sex sounds nothing like the golden boy Kim Namjoon had raved about earlier this week. You click your phone off, tapping the device against your lips as you ponder how to best rip this jerk to shreds via text.

It’s amidst Doyeon cursing out her statistics teacher that an idea hits you.

Tomorrow was Saturday night, and as far as you knew, you really didn’t have anything else going on for you anyway. You’d take Jeon Jungkook’s offer, let him cook you a free meal and drink some of his wine. He mentioned having his own place, and vaguely you remember Namjoon saying he lived alone, hence his introverted tendencies, so you could slip in and out without doing that walk of shame through a boy’s dorm hall.

Not that there would be anything to feel shameful about. In fact, if you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality.

Ha! That would certainly teach the asshole not to use his poor, unsuspecting friends to reel in nice girls like you into one night stands.

You could practically feel the devil horns begging to poke out of your skull, the forked tail wiggling behind you, as you click your phone back on and text Jeon Jungkook a great!! what’s your address :)

——

Saturday morning and afternoon are as boring as they usually are. You do a little homework, and spend thirty minutes filling Doyeon in on your master plan, which she eats up and even gives you some pointers—“and then you can be like, ‘you sick freak, as if I’d let you near this 5-star, Michelin reviewed, Gordon Ramsey approved coochie’ and throw the whole plate at his head!”—before getting ready for your little date at Jeon Jungkook’s.

You try hard to look good, harder than you would have if he hadn’t offended you by reducing you to a booty call, and Doyeon helps. She does your eyebrows all nice and natural, dusts the thinnest shin of liquid highlighter across the high points of your face, the whole shebang until you’re looking like a sexy, glowing goddess. You shimmy into a pretty dress, nothing too fancy nor too casual, and even pull on those strappy sandals you’d bought on sale last winter before blowing a kiss to Doyeon and meeting your Uber downstairs.

You don’t quite remember what the reason behind Jeon Jungkook living in such a swanky neighborhood a few minutes from campus was, if it was from a job you vaguely recall Namjoon mentioning, or if it was just purely hereditary, but his place is nice. It’s a connected townhouse, something you’d expect a newly wed couple to live in and not some douchebag third year.

Worse comes to worse, you get banned from this rich neighborhood after humiliating one of its residents in his own home, not that you’d ever make it big enough to live here anyway.

You’d texted Namjoon sometime that morning to let him know you were meeting his friend, an ominous text with an even more ominous smiley face attached to it. But it seems Namjoon is easily blinded by underclassmen he trusts, if Jeon Jungkook’s assholish feats and your own suspicious behavior is anything to go by, because he texts you back a polite have fun! he’s a little shy, so it might take a while for the ball to start rolling hahahaha.

Shy my ass, you think closing the door of your Uber behind you. You double check the address that had been texted to you, walking up to the neat townhouse and knocking against the polished door.

It’s a little chilly, and you hope finding an Uber is easier later tonight when you make your grand escape. It’s between these thoughts that the door swings open, revealing the most handsome man you’ve ever met.

He’s attractive, disgustingly so, with dark hair and light brown tips to contrast, tickling his cheekbones. His dark eyes are round and imploring as they meet yours, gaze almost innocent and doe like as he takes you in. He’s got this soft, blue turtleneck on, and it looks like it should be a seasonal sweater reserved for the holidays but he pulls it off nicely on this premature spring night. His pretty pink lips move, and it takes you a second to realize he’s talking.

“___?” He says, and his voice is deep, yet soft in its own unique way. You nod, like a stupid bobble head, because your throat constricted the moment this beautiful angel opened the door. “It’s cold outside, come in!” He urges you, out stretching his palm to make sure you don’t trip over the slight step up the door as he brings you into his home.

“Hi,” he exhales when you’re finally inside, standing a little too close to you in his small entryway.

“Hi,” you finally choke out, a little dazed by how handsome he is, and the sudden realization that you’re supposed to throw your glass of wine at him tonight because he’s a douchebag dawns on you. You blink yourself out of your stupor, taking a step back and gesturing towards your sandal clad feet.

“Oh!” Jeon Jungkook exclaims at the sudden realization. “I forgot to set out a pair of slippers for you,” he sheepishly admits, before he excuses himself to go get some. There’s a tiny ottoman pushed against the wall, beneath a long mirror, that you take a seat on it, carefully unstrapping your sandals.

All the while, you’re deep in thought.

It makes sense that someone like Jeon Jungkook was so forward in inviting you over for sex during your first interaction. Realistically speaking, the guy had it all. He lived alone in a swanky townhouse in a wealthy neighborhood (you finally remember Namjoon saying he did some app developing for major companies—yeah, still in college but already making it big because he was that good), and looked like the blueprint for the perfect man, someone who’d impress your parents. On top of that, the man was was a 21st century Adonis. You hadn’t missed the flash of ink on his knuckles, or the way his jeans had hugged his legs.

He’s making his way back now, inspecting the slippers in his hands, and you don’t miss the way the jeans are pulled taut around his thighs in particular.

Yeah, he definitely knew his way around a woman’s body, there was no way he couldn’t have.

You slip your feet into the slippers he places before you, wiggling your toes around, before glancing back at Jungkook. He smiles warmly, a little beauty mark beneath his lip making itself known. He takes your hand, pulls you up onto your feet, and begins guiding you down the hall and to what you assume is the kitchen.

“I didn’t know what you liked, and I figured asking you three hours before you came over would be too awkward,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. He glances at you again, and upon seeing your inquisitive stare, quickly turns away with flushed cheeks.

Oh this man knew the game, and he knew it well.

Jeon Jungkook still thinks he can play that cute campus boy being set up by his senior card now, after he’d shown you his true colors last night via text. But he has a big storm coming. As much as you could admit he was good to look at, you would not be fooled by some pretty face and tasty food. No, you came here with one goal and one goal only, and that was to give Jeon Jungkook a piece of his own two-faced medicine before running off to tattle to Namjoon.

You reach the kitchen and the heavenly smell of Alfredo sauce swarms your nostrils. “I… I’m still new to cooking, so I hope you don’t mind some Alfredo pasta,” he admits, shy smile adorning his features as he avoids your gaze once again to toy with the dish towel by the sink.

You creep closer to the counter, where two meticulously presented ceramic plates sit beside a wine bottle, and the glands in your mouth suddenly go into overdrive in their rush to make you salivate, and you choke out an overly eager, “it looks amazing!” before you know it.

Okay, you came here with two goals.

——

Jungkook carries the two bowls in his big hands to the dining room beside the kitchen, and you follow behind with the bottle of wine and two glasses as you set the table together. The utensils are already there, but Jungkook runs back into the kitchen anyway to return with some fancy cloth napkins for the two of you.

Just as you're tugging a chair out to sit, Jungkook beats you to it. “Ah, let me,” he smiles, and your heart thunders nervously in your chest as you return the expression, brushing your hands beneath you before sitting down and letting him push you in. Jungkook takes his own seat in front of you, and before you can dig in he calls out to seemingly nobody, “Alexa, dim the dining room lights.”

The overhead lights dim, and with their overbearing glow gone, you can finally appreciate the battery powered candles snuggled neatly into a little bowl on the table between you two. You ooh appreciatively, and Jungkook looks proud of himself.

Then, he says, “Alexa, play…Date Night Playlist.”

You blink, and a soft piano tune begins filtering through a speaker he’s hidden somewhere in the room. Even with the fake candles being your main source of light, the flush on Jungkook’s cheeks is evident as he gestures towards you to eat.

You won’t lie. Jeon Jungkook was extremely endearing.

This much becomes evident the further you get into the meal. As small talk devolves into full fledged conversations and story telling, his shy demeanor slipping away but still sticking to the edges of his personality, you begin to have a more difficult time connecting this Jungkook to the one who had less than 24 hours ago asked you to come over and “Netflix and chill” with him.

But the more you speak, the more distant that image begins to feel. For one, Jungkook does put on a fairly reserved aura for you, telling you about his job but refusing to brag about it even when you egg him on. He has no qualms gassing up his friends, Namjoon in particular, who Jungkook claims is his role model for some unknown reason, given the fact they are neither in the same major nor in any of the same clubs. They’re friends, point blank period, but Namjoon is very obviously a star in Jungkook’s eyes.

Additionally, he’s quite embarrassed to admit why Namjoon had been so set on getting Jungkook to date, but eventually tells you it’s because Jungkook’s last girlfriend had been during your freshman year—two whole years ago! It makes you wonder what he’d been doing since then, if he’d used the time to fully invest in his work or if he’d been mingling around, unbeknownst to his friends, which would explain the flirtatious offer that landed you here.

Still, a part of you refuses to believe last night’s Jungkook and tonight’s Jungkook were one in the same, and if they were, what had made this shy man so unabashedly invite you over for some sex. Was this act all a ploy? Or maybe, was he purposefully trying to ward you away by coming off as a gentleman now that he’d seen your face and wasn’t interested in you anymore?

Apparently it’s neither of the two, and you don’t realize this until you finish your meal and make your way into his living room to finally get down to the long awaited Netflix and chilling. It’s only when you sit down on the couch, smack dab in the middle, because at this point, you’re not gonna throw your wine at Jeon Jungkook like you planned, he was too nice. And if this niceness was an act to get in your panties, you didn’t care at this point. He was hot, achingly so, and at least you’d get a good fuck out of it.

But as you said, apparently not. Because Jeon Jungkook sees you purposefully take up the entire middle of the couch, sultry eyes staring him down, and decides to sit flush against the armrest, somehow leaving a good foot between the two of you, despite the fact you’re sitting next to each other.

Your brain can’t work fast enough to comprehend the situation, before he’s asking you what you want to watch. “Um,” you say, pointedly staring at him and not the screen. “Tr-Transformers?”

The way Jungkook’s eyes light up is insane, already round eyes nearly popping out of their sockets as he eagerly rushes to select it from whatever streaming service he has, probably not even Netflix, all the while chattering on about how much he loves that series, and is so glad you do too.

The whole time, you’re struck by the oddness of his casual tone, the way he’s overly invested in the 20th Century Fox opening, and how he’s very carefully avoiding intruding in on your personal space.

The last point in particular has you wanting to pull your hair out, because you want Jeon Jungkook intruding in on your personal space. You want him pressed so tightly against you you can’t breathe, you can’t move, until you’re drowning in him as he finally lives up to his promise of some Netflix and chill, because you want him, and you want him so. very. bad.

“Oh, I forgot the popcorn!” Jungkook exclaims, and you jump at the sudden volume of his voice, because he’d been pretty silent as he avidly watched the first few minutes of the movie. “Sorry,” he chuckles, and his leg brushes against yours as he shuffles between you and the coffee table on his way out. You vaguely hear the popping of the popcorn in the kitchen, but you’re too distracted by your suddenly overwhelming thoughts.

Okay, one thing was for sure, and that was that Jeon Jungkook definitely had no fucking idea what the phrase Netflix and chill meant, because the way he’d zeroed in on the movie and the popcorn, and not you, was unheard of on such invitations. You deduce he probably heard it somewhere, and, now understanding the true nature of Jungkook’s sweet and shy personality, made no such perverted connection to the phrase.

Which meant he most definitely did not demean you to a mere booty call, like you’d deluded yourself into believing, someone he could hump and dump with no regrets, before calling Namjoon up to thank him. Which meant he’d had no ulterior motives in meeting you tonight, just planning to get to know you at the suggestion of his friend, and had—unbeknownst to him—successfully wooed you thus far.

Which was great! If you turned a blind eye to the evil, conniving plans you’d made without even meeting the guy, and the subsequent flood of self-inflicted disapproval when you realized Jeon Jungkook was a sweetheart who definitely did not deserve having a glass of wine thrown at his face after making you a home cooked meal and giving you the full Olive Garden experience, with his dimmed lights and candlelit dinner and piano music on the background.

Yeah. Perfectly fine.

The only problem now was that you had become so dangerously smitten with the man that you wanted to sleep with him. You wanted that Netflix and chill, needed it like it was the last slot in a daycare class and you were a soccer mom of five wanting to get at least one kid out of the house for the summer for the sake of her own sanity. You were desperate.

No, you scold yourself. This was fine, this was good, this was perfectly okay. If anything, this just further made you enamored with Jungkook, because it proved how gentlemanly he was by not trying to sleep with you on the first date.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to, the devil on your shoulder crooned.

The microwave in the kitchen stops, and you hear the sound of cabinets opening as Jungkook pours the popcorn into a bowl. On screen, the main character is meeting a bunch of giant cars-turned-robots, you don’t fucking know.

But the devil was right.

Jungkook hadn’t offered to sleep with you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. Furthermore, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be seduced into wanting to, your evil brain suggested, and the hope that had slithered it’s way into your chest from the very moment Jungkook had opened the door, took that fact and ran with it.

“What’d I miss?” Jungkook says when he returns, popcorn bowl in hand.

“Oh, um, he was with the car,” you offer, trying to stop the nefarious smirk from slipping onto your features. Jungkook laughs, cute and airy as he shuffles past you.

He’s too absorbed in the screen, not looking as he sits down, closer than last time until his thigh brushes yours and he jerks back in embarrassment. “Oh, sorry,” he flounders, goes to move away but you act fast.

You grab onto his upper arm with both of yours like an octopus, keeping him flush to you as you gaze up at him with wide eyes. “No, it’s okay,” you rush to assure him, loosening your hold as he tentatively relaxes beside you. You glance down at the popcorn bowl in his hand, swiping a piece to pop between your lips. “It’s easier for us this way,” you say, and you’re pulling that straight out of your ass, because you hate popcorn and have literally zero desire for it and wouldn’t have reached for it anyway if you weren’t trying to convince him this was all for popcorn sharing purposes.

Jungkook’s eyes briefly flicker down to where you’re munching on that popcorn, your lips, before he’s quickly averting his gaze. “Ah, y-yeah,” he agrees, and though he tries to relax back into the couch, you can still feel the tension of his muscles as he settles beside you.

With his eyes no longer trained on you, you snuggle closer into his side resting your cheek against the soft material covering his shoulder, finally letting that devious smirk slip onto your face. You keep yourself close to Jungkook, loving the way his warmth permeates the thick sweater he’s wearing, even if he’s still overly into the movie. You know he’s seen it before, because he keeps telling you random tidbits like, “they use this in the next movie!” Or “he ends up becoming really important in the sixth movie,” and you want to listen to this endearing nerd’s commentary, you really do, but once your brain is stuck on horny, it is stuck on horny.

He doesn’t even eat a lot of popcorn, setting it down not ten minutes later onto the coffee table. You release him as he moves forward, but quickly latch onto him again when he sits back down.

Much to your surprise, Jungkook is way more relaxed then, shrugging you off to rest his hand on the couch behind you, and you inwardly squeal at the prospect of getting to cuddle up to his body, and not just his arm. You cuddle in close to him, leaving your slippers on the ground as you tuck your legs up onto the couch cushions.

Jungkook is so warm and firm, and you know it’s your horny brain speaking, but you swear you feel a tight set of abs underneath the palm you rest on his stomach, and you give an experimental brush over the area. His heart picks up, you hear it by where your head is leaning against his chest, and you tilt your head up to give him a curious glance. His cheeks are red, and he doesn’t look at you even though you know he sees you, so you decide to kick things up a notch.

You sigh loudly, peeling yourself away from him to properly level him with a pout. “Jungkook, aren’t you hot in this?” You ask, pinching the wooly material between two fingers and pulling it from his skin. Jungkook finally looks away from the screen, nibbling his lower lip as he takes in your quizzical expression.

“Um, only a little… but it’s fine!” He rushes to say, and you recall from your conversations over dinner that Jungkook doesn’t much like people fussing over him, so you quickly change gears.

You press a hand against your cheek, the same one that had been resting against his shoulder earlier. “Oh, well… it’s really itchy,” you announce, and his eyes widen, one hand absentmindedly reaching to clutch the material at his chest. “It’s making me really itchy,” you emphasize, and part of you feels bad for taking advantage of his caring nature, but this is all for the greater good, you convince yourself. “Do you mind taking it off?”

“I, uh, yeah,” he agrees, reaching for the hem of his sweater before carefully peeling it off. When he pulls it over his head, you can’t help the triumphant grin that overtakes your face, though you quickly mask it when he finally frees himself from the material. “Better?” He says once he’s clad in only a plain black shirt.

“Mm, much,” you sigh, and nearly soak your panties then and there when a tattooed sleeve comes into view. “Woah!” You exclaim, snatching his wrists up to examine his skin. “What’s this?” You marvel, tracing every inch of delicious skin with your predatory gaze. Jungkook huffs out a laugh, and you glance up to watch as he rubs the back of his neck in that same embarrassed way he’d done multiple times throughout your night together.

“My tattoos,” he says, and then seems to realize the simplicity of his statement and rushes to add to it, “I hope you don’t mind?”

You hum, shifting onto your knees to face him as you continue tracing over a huge tiger lily by his forearm. “Why would I? It’s your body,” you say, and watch the nervous glance melt off his face as he regards you with something new. Something akin to wonder as he lets you trace over more of his ink, nodding along to your words.

“Yeah… yeah!” He agrees, and you grin at his sudden zeal. He chuckles, physically relaxing beneath your touch, and it’s probably the most relaxed he’s been all night as you continue rubbing your hands over every tattoo on his skin, and then purposefully focusing on the ones near his bicep. “Sorry, ‘m just used to people pushing off their own opinions about them onto me,” he explains, and for a moment, the horniness that had been fueling you all night fades away, and you let your hands trail down, past his wrist, until you’re sandwiching his hand between yours.

“Fuck what anyone else thinks,” you tell him, eyes hard as you imagine anyone imposing their stupid thoughts on Jungkook, who was too good for this world. “If you think they’re cool, then they're the coolest thing in the world.”

He smiles at you, and you’ve seen this smile about a million times tonight—when you first came in, when you talked about yourself at dinner, when you mentioned this stupid movie—but it has something swelling in your chest. Something too intimate for a first date, so you quickly move to repress it.

Glancing down at his hand in yours, littered with smaller tattoos across his knuckles, your brain whirls into action. Bringing it up between the two of you, you turn his hand over to line your palms up. “Wow, your hands are so big,” you sigh, slowly reverting back to dirty thoughts as you twist yours and Jungkook’s hands this way and that. He snorts, bends the tips of his fingers over yours just to hear you ooooh again.

“Yeah, they’re pretty big,” he agrees, completely ignoring the film playing on the screen, which is a huge win in your eyes considering how deeply he’d been watching it earlier.

Finally, you see an opening and pounce.

“Well, that means something else is pretty big too,” you murmur, chancing a glance up at his face. His face is the perfect definition of composed, and you can tell when exactly he processes your words because those little pink lips part in surprise, red slowly filling the apples of his cheeks. You let go of his palm, letting it slide between your fingers until it falls limp beside him.

Jungkook watches you with wide eyes, as you raise yourself up onto your knees. “Jungkook?” You mumble, giving him no warning before you’re throwing a leg across his lap, knees pressed into the couch on either side of his thighs.

“Y-Yes?” He stutters, brown hair falling away from his face as he stares up at you. You flash him a sweet smile, and you can tell it relaxes him because his fists unclench beside him.

“You’re a really nice boy,” you sigh, and when you’ve scooted your knees a little closer to his ridiculously thin waist, you finally let yourself sit. You find yourself right before his crotch, which he desperately tries to hide as he shifts around, but can’t with you on top of him. You let your hands flutter to rest at his shoulders, and he gulps. “You’re so sweet and cute,” you add, relish in the flush that climbs up to his ears. “But I’m a little sad you invited me over to Netflix and chill, but won’t do just that,” you pout, a finger tangling itself in a soft strand at the back of his head.

“Huh?” He stutters, eyes nearly bulging out when you wiggle around again. “I-I’m sorry?” He huffs, and when you move too close to his crotch, where his jeans are slowly growing more and more strained, he panics and reaches a hand out to steady your waist.

You feign confusion, flashing him another pout as you duck closer until your noses bump against each other. “You know what it means, don’t you, Jungkook?” You inquire, eyes falling dangerously lidded as you swallow up every inch of his appearances.

He stutters, hands moving up and down as if he doesn’t know where to put them anymore. But you know exactly where Jungkook can put those hands, and you waste no time catching his wrists in your hands to guide him towards your hips. “No?” He breathes, fingers flexing against you, and you smile sweetly at him.

“It means,” you purr, shifting forward until you’re flush against where you need him most. You can barely contain the whimper that climbs out of your throat when you finally feel the rough material of his jeans against your panties. “It means you wanna fuck, Jungkook,” you exhale, tossing your head back as your body basks in the slight reprieve, the way Jungkook squirms beneath you aiding greatly in providing that sensation you craved.

“It’s nothing more than an excuse,” you huff, placing a hand on the back of his neck to steady yourself. At your touch, Jungkook jolts, thighs jumping beneath you and you stifle another groan when the zipper of his jeans prods against your core. “For you to fuck my brains out while some s-stupid movie plays in the background.”

You’re not sure when, but sometime during that last explanation your hands had fully delved into the thick tresses of Jungkook’s hair. You give an experimental tug, and poor Jungkook, so lost in all that you’re telling him, lolls his head back for you easily until the long expanse of his neck is available, soft creamy skin yours for the taking.

You pounce, kissing the skin gently at first, before sprinkling in a handful of nibbles. He’s sensitive, devastatingly so, as he gasps at a particular suck. You suction your lips on the spot below his ear, carefully biting down on the skin as he unravels beneath you. “Will you do it, Jungkookie?” You murmur against the shell of his ear,

He nods eagerly, and his fingers hurt where he’s pressed them deep into your waist, like he’s trying to brand you as his with his mere strength alone. “Y-Yes,” he exhales, hips jerking when you swipe your tongue over the pretty mark you’d left on his perfect skin.

You smother your smirk against his neck, grinding down on him once again. “Yes what?” You tease, and let his strong hands roll you against him afterwards.

“Yes, I-I’ll…” he stumbles, eyes dazed as he watches you through hooded lids. You raise a brow at him, shifting in his lap. It’s enough to kickstart him back up, and he’s biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. “I’ll fuck you, I’ll fuck you just like you want,” he rambles. He surprises you when he begins rutting up against you, so animalistic and uncontrolled, nothing like the sweet Jungkook that had indulged you over dinner. “I’ll make you come, p-promise,” he rasps.

You smirk down at him, hoping he doesn’t see the metaphorical horns sticking out of your head the further he falls into your trap. Before he can say anything else, you surge forward, slotting your mouths together for the first time that night.

It’s no surprise that Jungkook kisses just like he speaks, carefully like he’s afraid one hard press of his lips will ward you off. His lips are smooth, a fact you’d hyper-fixated on all night as he spoke, but before you can ponder on that any further, something hot and wet is prodding at your lower lip.

The gasp you barely manage to contain ends up escaping anyway when Jungkook’s hand comes up to cup the side of your face, tilting your head to the side as his tongue slithers into your mouth. You become obsessed with the way he touches you, every bit the gentlemen he’d been all night, fingers just barely pressing into your cheek like he doesn’t want to mess up your makeup. His other hand, snuggly wrapped around your waist, pulls you tighter against him until your chests are pressed together.

And that tongue. That tongue of his that leaves no room for argument, quickly shutting down any attempts of yours to overtake him. He’s graceful about it too, one nudge enough to convince you he’s got this, he’ll take care of you. You whimper, a sound Jungkook swallows before he’s biting down on your lower lip.

When he pulls away, his lips are red and glossy, and you wonder if yours are too. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he sighs, gazing at you like he can’t believe you’re there in front of him.

Before you can say anything else, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck to brush kisses over your skin. “Let me eat you out,” he begs, but his voice is so silky and smooth that it doesn’t sound so much as a plea as much as it does a suggestion. He licks a stripe up your neck, and you jump in his hold.

It’s at this moment where the sudden realization hits you, the feeling of having the reins yanked out of your hands. You so vividly controlled every aspect of Jungkook just a few moments ago, when you’d had your own mouth on his neck, and carefully coaxed him into some sex.

But it seems Jeon Jungkook isn’t as soft or as pliable as you had dubbed him to be, and if the way he’s begun subtly rolling your hips into his crotch is any sign, he certainly wasn’t the submissive type either. Which leaves you wondering, exactly what type of person was Jungkook in bed?

Well, you had all night to figure that out.

“Hey,” he whines suddenly, ripping you out of your thoughts. You glance down at him, registering the bored set of his eyes and the unimpressed quirk of his lips. “Pay attention to me.”

You blink, lips twitching. You can barely muffle the giggle that tears itself from your throat, leaning your forehead on his shoulder as your body shakes at his suddenly childish words. Jungkook chuckles too, as if suddenly realizing how out of place his own statement was. “Sorry,” he smiles, cheeks pleasantly rosy and you can’t even stop yourself from kissing him silly.

Jungkook, bless his heart, let’s you rain down a good three kisses on him before he’s pushing you down on the couch beside him. There’s still a slight gleam in his eyes, but the rest of his face schools itself into a hungry expression as he drinks in your body laid out before him. “Let me eat you out?” He asks again, voice but a soft whisper.

You nod, heart beating loudly in your chest as he shuffles down until he can press a kiss to the tops of your thighs. He hasn’t even done anything that intense yet, but you already feel the muscles in your leg ready to spasm just from his proximity.

He’s mouthing at your skin, nudging your legs apart, and you, usually so confident in your sexuality, can’t find the courage to look at him as he so lovingly carries out his ministrations.

As if sensing your sudden bout of shyness (you! shy! Doyeon was gonna tease you about this for the rest of your life once you recapped this for her), he places a soft kiss just below where the hem of your dress begins, before pulling back and uttering, “this okay?”

You hum in response, face warm from just imagining how good he must look down there, peppering your skin with kisses. Your heart nearly rips itself out of your chest when a strong set of fingers wraps around your wrist suddenly, sliding over and around your hand until he’s tangled them with yours.

At this, you nearly break your neck trying to look at him, only to be met with an amused smile. Jungkook gives your hand a squeeze, and you barely get to appreciate the schoolgirl flood of emotions in your chest, when suddenly his free hand comes out of left field, cupping the back of your knee to push your legs further apart, before gliding across the expanse of your thigh to push your dress up.

If Jungkook holding your hand was enough to make your heart skip a beat, Jungkook pressing a chaste kiss to your panty-clad mound was enough to send you into cardiac arrest. Your leg twitches at the sudden touch, a gasp catching in your throat at the delicate path he kisses over your panties, until he’s flicking his tongue over your clit. “Oh,” you moan, and against your better judgment, your free hand is tangling itself in his silky strands.

Jungkook smirks, what sounds like a tiny chuckle muffled as he continues mouthing along your sex, until your panties are soaked both from your arousal and his saliva. Your little thong stares him in the face, and he groans at the sight, glancing up at you with those wide eyes of his like you’re his entire world. “Can I?”

Jungkook gives your clit one final kiss, before he lets go of your hand, and you can’t help the whine that leaves you upon the lost contact. Jungkook eats it up, pressing a kiss turned smile against your knee as he tugs your underwear down. It coils up as it goes, until he’s pulling a tightly twisted maroon thong off your ankles, and tossing it off somewhere behind him.

If his mouth felt good through your panties, it feels even better without. You mewl when he brushes his lips over your clit, plush lips working your sensitive bundle of nerves, sly tongue occasionally creeping out to toy with you further. “Jungkook,” you cry out, back arching. He licks and slurps likes he’s a starved man, and you're the first meal he’s ever had. You want to sob from how good it feels, his tongue flicking over your bud like he just can’t get enough.

He pulls away to catch your gaze, doesn’t let it go as he runs a lone finger over your slit, coating the digit in your own arousal, before carefully plunging it into your warm, wet heat. “Is this good?” He rasps out, watching your facial expressions carefully as he wiggles his finger deeper into your core, his other hand wrapped around your thigh to keep you still. You moan, feeling like a boneless heap of organs beneath this insanely handsome man who can’t keep his hands off your quivering pussy.

His fingers don’t let up, slowly pulling out before plunging back in. The room fills with disgustingly wet sounds, but that fact drifts to the back of your head the faster his fingers go. Your eyes roll into your head, your body twitching with each press of his fingers.

“Is it good, pretty?” He repeats, and since you’re not looking at him anymore, the sudden lick against your clit has your back arching and your thighs quivering with surprise. “Tell me it’s good, ___,” Jungkook croons, and you nod in a hurry.

“It’s good!” You cry, moaning loudly when he slips another finger into you, scissoring the two inside of you. “It’s so good, Jungkook—y-you’re so good,” you moan, and nearly cry actual tears when he curls his fingers inside of you, pressing down against the most sensitive spot within you.

Jungkook doesn’t let up, continues licking and slurping against your sensitive bud, even when your orgasm hits and you’re begging him to stop. He doesn’t let you go until he feels the warmth coat his fingers, feels the wetness begging to seep out of your plugged pussy. He lets you go then, only to move closer to your hole and replace his fingers with his mouth. There, he carefully catches and collects the cum that trickles out, mouth warm against your trembling body.

Your body quivers with each long drag of his tongue over your sensitive cunt, and you’re about to ask him to stop, when he finally pulls away and pushes himself over you, arms caging you in as he stares down at your withered form. “Kiss,” you manage to gasp out, and Jungkook raises an eyebrow in question. “Kiss me,” you repeat, and then, thoughtfully, “please.”

Jungkook complies, leans down to connect your mouths in a sweet kiss. You’re blinded by the delicacy of it all, that you in no way see coming the sudden substance that slides down your throat from his own. You choke at the sudden intrusion, belatedly realizing it’s your cum he’s pushing down your throat, the cum he didn’t swallow.

“That’s it, pretty,” Jungkook croons, licking up the residual come that hadn’t made it into your mouth. “See how you taste for me. Isn’t it sweet?” He murmurs, pushing his tongue into your mouth as if he regretted not saving any for himself. It’s the first time you’ve had your own pleasure in your mouth, so you’re not exactly sure how to feel. What you do feel is the overwhelming surge of arousal at seeing Jungkook rave about it and lap it up inside your own mouth.

He kisses you for a few moments, mouth moving languidly along yours. One hand reaches down to rub soothingly at your inner thigh, like he’s coaxing the feeling back into your body after lulling you into one of the most heavenly orgasms of your entire life. You whimper when he bites down on your lower lip, like you’re still too sensitive to reciprocate, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. He lets you go, licks over where he’d bitten like an apology.

After a few minutes of just this, of feeling like the most cherished girl in the entire world, Jungkook finally pulls away and levels you with a dashing smile. “All good?” He asks, hands still trailing up your waist until they’re framing the swell of your breasts, where he gently circles your nipple.

You nod, dazedly staring up at him and it’s at this exact moment that you realize there’s something stiff poking at your hip. You glance down, and Jungkook glances down with you, until you’re both staring at the hard on he’s hiding beneath his jeans. Jungkook chuckles, low and dark by your ear as he experimentally presses it against you.

Before you can stop yourself, your hand is untangling itself from around his shoulders and slithering down his front. You cup his erection, his shaky exhale giving you the courage to toy with his belt buckle until it’s undone and you're battling with the button on his jeans instead. You put up a good fight, but in the end the angle is too tight for you to properly undo it, and Jungkook brushes your hands away with a soft kiss to your lips.

He pushes himself off you, and you’re immediately craving the warm press of his body against yours the second he’s gone. “Get that dress off for me, pretty girl,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head, rendering you completely speechless as you gawk at his body. Jungkook glances down at you as he goes to undo his pants, a shapely brow raising in your direction and a soft quirk of his lips gesturing for you to do as you’re told.

You spur into action, wiggling the dress up and over your breasts until you’re pulling it over your head and letting it drop beside you on the floor. You’re just in time to see Jungkook push his jeans down his hips, a classic black Calvin Klein underwear band glaring back at you.

The chance to marvel at Jungkook’s thin waist framed by that tight underwear is gone as quickly as it came, and you’re greeted with an even more mouthwatering sight when he pushes the elastic band down, and that big cock you had alluded to springs out of its confines. You groan, subconsciously rolling your hips into the air as you take in the sight of his cock, mushroom tip swollen and flushed. There’s a thick vein that runs along the underside of it, one you only see when Jungkook grasps his dick in his hand and tugs upward like this isn’t his true form, and he can get bigger.

“Ready?” He asks, biting down on his lip as he continues to stroke himself. You nod, wiggling closer to him until the backs of your thighs rest on top of his, knees knocking against his waist. He grants you one more of those kind smiles, before he’s leaning down to press a hand beside your head, the other lining himself up with your soaked entrance.

Running his cock over your folds one last time, collecting as much of your cum as he can, he brushes a kiss against your cheekbone before he’s pushing in. You moan, throwing your hands around his neck as he pierces through the initial ring of muscle surrounding your warm heat. “Holy shit,” you choke, mouth dropped open as you pant like a dog against his shoulder. “J-Jungkook,” you cry, legs tightening around his waist the closer his body presses against yours.

Once he’s at the hilt, pelvis flush against you, you can’t help the series of whines and mewls that escape your lips from being so comfortably filled to the brim.

To your surprise, Jungkook is the first to speak. “Fuck,” he groans, breath hot against your ear. He sounds fucked out, once silky voice raspy with need as he grinds his hips against you tentatively. “This is what you wanted, isn't it?” He huffs, both hands coming down to wrap around your waist, your back arching under the wonderful hands that find themselves squeezing every inch of your back in an effort to pull you closer.

His mouth brushes against yours from this new position, and Jungkook puckers his lips, tongue coming out to lick at your bottom lip. You nearly cry when he finally pulls his hips away, relieves his cock from your tight heat before surging back in. “Wanted this from the moment you walked in, didn’t you, sweetheart?” Jungkook grunts, repeats the same motion until he’s picked up a steady pace of pushing and pulling, each roll of his hips sending a shock of ecstasy crawling up your spine.

You nod, eyes screwed shut as pleasure warms every inch of your body. It’s even worse to not see, because every sound and every touch is magnified tenfold, until you’re drowning in sensations. Jungkook’s choked groans, the slide of his hips, they all become too much too quickly and you’re choking back a sob.

“Fuck,” he groans, glancing down at your withered form like an animal as he picks up his pace. His hold on you tightens, never letting your body move away from him and he begins jack hammering in his thrusts, swallowing your cries with his lips. “Had me thinking you were a nice girl,” he huffs, and you wonder if he knows how tightly he’s holding you, how this grip will most likely leave you with fingerprint bruises tomorrow morning. But then again, you don’t care. All you care about is Jungkook’s voice and his body, guiding you toward completion. “But all you wanted was a quick fuck.”

You steel yourself to look at him again, and when your eyes finally open and focus, you’re wishing you hadn’t because Jungkook looks so hot over you. His pretty eyes, the ones that had led you into a false sense of comfort throughout the night and tricked you into believing he would be easy to bend to your every whim, are hard now. “Isn’t that right, doll?” He spits, and you whine when he punctuates this question with a particularly brutal thrust of his hips. His balls slap against your ass, and you squirm beneath him as you begin to feel the beginnings of an orgasm build in your core.

“I-I thought—“ you stammer, tone pitched from the way he jostles you with every thrust he gives. “Y-You wanted that,” you weekly defend, canting your hips down in a feeble attempt to progress this along.

He snorts, captures your lips in a rushed kiss where he wastes no time snaking his tongue inside your mouth. His saliva trickles into your mouth, and you whine as he purposefully lets it happen, pulls away just the slightest to pucker his lips and let a thick trail of spit fall straight into your open mouth. Satisfied with his little stunt, he rams his cock against you once more.

“If you wanted a quick fuck,” he says, nearly loses himself in your pussy, “you came to the wrong guy, sweetheart.”

You’re too caught up in the nice drag of his cock against your pussy, the tip of his cock stopping him from ever pulling out completely, that it takes you a second to process his words. “H-Huh?” You choke, teary eyes flickering across his face wildly as if the answer will be right in plain sight.

But all you’re met with is the soft pull of his lips as he flashes you a smirk, pearly white teeth tugging at the pink flesh, as he levels you with a glare of his own. Before you can question him further, he’s letting go of your waist to hike your knees into the crook of his elbows, his pouty lips growing further away as he leans back.

This shift has his cock nudging up, rubbing against the hood of your clit where a bundle of nerves he’d only briefly brushed before sits. You shriek in pleasure, writhing beneath him as the sudden sensation hits you full force. “Jungkook!” You sob, his hips slowing to a grind as he watches your face crumble beneath him.

“You like that?” He murmurs, rutting his hips against you shallowly. The change of pace, the rabid piston of his hips slowing to this, has your body melting into his touch. You barely manage a nod, eyes fluttering open and shut as his hips move sensually against you.

His cock brushes against that sensitive spot with each roll of his hips, and you’re a mewling, puddle of emotion by the third thrust. “Pretty girl,” he hums, letting go of one leg to place a hand above your mound, thumb circling your clit until you’re trembling beneath him. “Did you think I would fuck you and kick you out?” He husks, watching your body like he’s a lion and you’re his prey.

Your brain is far from comprehending anything at this point, reduced to a mere mass of nothingness as he continues moving against you, fingers rubbing your clit in all the right ways.

“Well, you were wrong about that, doll,” he huffs, and you’re blessed with the sight of his head lolling back as he loses himself in the tight grip of your pussy, skin glistening with sweat, trailing from behind his ear and over his neck, until you’re watching a pearl roll over his collarbones. “I don’t do that,” he informs you, and he pinches your clit between two fingers, hard enough that you almost miss his next words as you moan. “No, baby, I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he spits, and you whimper at his words. Finally, he lets go of your knees, right as you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm and you moan out in protest as he ducks down to cage you between his arms again.

“Please,” you beg, voice hoarse as his hips slowly return to their pace from before. He’s still not pulling out as much, keeping his thrusts shallow as he kisses a trail up your neck and over your jaw.

“Gonna fuck you so good, you don’t ever want to leave, pretty,” he says, kisses the corner of your mouth as his hips pick up pace. You wanna cry, feeling so warm and cherished in his arms, his voice telling you how good you’re doing as the coil in your stomach tightens and tightens until you’re begging him for more. “Do you want that?”

“Yes! Yes!” You sob, rolling your hips against his like a madman as you chase your high.

Jungkook hums, smile smushed against your lips as he watches you desperately writhing beneath him. “Yeah? You want that?” You nod, mewls swallowed by his kisses. “Then cum for me, pretty girl.”

You whimper, just as he bucks into you once more, and suddenly you’re falling apart. It starts in your lower back, the ecstasy climbing it’s way through your body until you’re quivering and sobbing in his embrace, muffling your sounds against his shoulder. The muscles in your entire body tighten painfully, until suddenly a wave of contentment washes over you, and you’re too weak to even hold onto him anymore, arms flopping back onto the couch cushions beneath you.

The whole time, Jungkook mutters encouragement against your jaw, keeps his thrusts short but quick, guiding you through your orgasm. When you’re done, he presses an open mouthed kiss beneath your ear, pulling away to look at your boneless frame beneath him.

A few pistons of his hips later, and Jungkook is coming inside of you, cum coating your walls as he hammers his way through his orgasm. He pulls out when he’s done, and you instantly feel your mixed arousal drip out between your thighs.

Woozy from the wine and the two orgasms, you fall asleep soon after.

——

“Good morning,” you murmur, standing at the doorway leading into the kitchen, an area you’d only been able to find after stumbling around the upstairs of the house in confusion.

Jungkook whirls around, wide eyes taking in your appearance. You clutch at the hem of the big t-shirt you’d pulled on, the only article of clothing you saw that was thrown over a chair in a bedroom you didn’t dare snoop around. “Morning,” he exhales, calculating gaze never leaving you as you tiptoe over to him by the counter.

He doesn’t say more, spluttering into action when you peek over his shoulder to see what he’s up to. “What’re you making?” You inquire, and his hands begin fidgeting with the knife.

“Oh, um,” he stutters, and perhaps he’s overly aware of your presence so close beside him, because he suddenly doesn’t remember how he’s supposed to cut an avocado. Cute, you think. “Just, um, toast with avocado spread…”

You hum. After a moment, it seems Jungkook is able to quell his nerves, and he carefully slices the avocado open, spreading its innards across the toast. He hands you the first piece, which you take after masking your own surprise, and soon after he’s turning away from the counter as the two of you eat in silence.

After a few thoughtful munches of bread, you speak. “Thanks for carrying me to bed,” you say, refusing to look at him.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, almost a little too fast and you barely bite down a grin as he rambles on. “Wasn’t gonna leave you on the couch, especially not when you were so tired after… ah, yeah.”

It’s the reserved way he carries himself that gives you the balls to look at him. His ears are flushed adorably red, like when you were at dinner last night talking about his job, and all you wanna do is pinch his cheeks. “Yeah,” you agree, and then add with an air of faux shyness, “you were really cool last night.”

It’s the little devil in you begging to jump out, curious to see how far you can push Jungkook before he shifts into that suave version of himself from last night, and you would feel bad had the corner of his lips not tilted up in amusement.

He chokes out a laugh, mutters a “yeah?” and you don’t stop yourself when you jump into his arms and kiss that avocado spread right off his lips.

——

On Tuesday afternoon, Kim Namjoon is in the midst of delivering another sermon-like speech on the importance of utilizing your student ID when visiting any of the Starbucks within a two mile radius of your school, when you spot a chestnut head of hair from the corner of your eye.

“Sorry, Joon! My ride's here!” You yelp, shoving your notebook into your bag as you stumble over yourself in your haste to leave.

Namjoon blinks. “Huh? I thought you lived on campus?”

You nod, that giddy feeling starting up in your chest as he comes closer to where you and Namjoon have taken up residence on a table in the commons for your weekly meeting, and by the time he reaches the table Namjoon is still in the midst of questioning you.

“Jungkook,” You say, all dreamily and dazed, and you know this because Doyeon caught you with this same exact look on your face after he dropped you off at the dorms Sunday afternoon.

Namjoon startles. “What the f—“

“Hi,” Jungkook beams, leans down to brush a kiss against your cheek, which only serves to make you even more ditzy and dumb in the face of this handsome man. “Oh, hey, hyung.”

“What’re you doi—“

“All set?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring whatever his beloved senior was saying in favor of taking your bag off your shoulders. You nod, have to swallow a giggle down when he takes your hand in his. “Bye, hyung.”

“Bye, Joon!” You barely remember to throw over your shoulder, too busy wrapping yourself around Jungkook’s arm to hear Namjoon blabber in shock. 

“Kids these days,” he huffs.

[ part 2 ; hulu & woohoo ]

[siriusmydeer]

you said ideas for james potter fluff? i have one!! what if your on your period and you like bleed on the bed or something like that and he helps you clean up and is like p”periods are normal when your upset?

his favourite person

james potter x fem!reader

summary: james comforts you on your period.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: period cramps, swearing, kissing, mentions of dying/funerals, pet names, insecurity, mentions of migraines, mentions of razors and injury, mentions of hostility

a/n: so i has to modify this in a way i could write it but i hope you like it !!

the searing burn of agony was beginning to broil in the pit of your belly whilst you had shifted your tensed legs to be clutched in front of your abdomen. the hues of orange spilt from the corners of your lilac curtains as a siren that the day had officially begun, meanwhile the school would be swarming with boisterous and inconsiderate students of their classmate's preferences.

you audibly groaned now breaking the peaceful morning silence, suddenly shoving your hand in your viewpoint before the blaring lights could potentially give you a migraine from the fluoresce light; as well as your stomach could barely endure the swirling affliction that only uplifted as you began to awaken from your blissful as well as pain spared snooze of dreams about treacle tarts and winning the house cup.

every time you gulped it felt like razors were being trapped in the cavern of your throat, anytime you shifted your body beneath your blankets it felt like you were walking a tightrope that had snapped and you had fallen into a pit of sharp rocks that were shaped in fury. you had felt every minuscule amount of pain in your muscles that only to continue as you laid atop of your mattress.

you sighed whilst fluttering your eyelids a few times before haphazardly opening the small drawer that was placed beside your bed, glimpsing beneath your fingers at the empty box of tampons that had been used up from yesterday and you foolishly forgot to refill. you groaned yet again, your motivation ceasing from your body to trudge over to the healer's wing for another box.

amid your mind rant over the first inconvenience of the day the door of your dormitory that mildly creaked due to the ageing hinges from decades ago. auburn hair suddenly cascading in your viewpoint and aquamarine irises staring at you once your hand had been removed from your eyes due to her manipulation.

“lily, are you alright?” you inquired with a tinge of sarcasm lingering in your voice, a small teasing crease in your brow as her face remained to hover over your own. she proceeded to press a small kiss to your temple and swiped some of your mangled tuffs away from your searing cheeks.

“how’re you feeling?” she inquired in a murmur, trying to leave the tranquillity scorning through the air due to the peaceful atmosphere that remained through the night to the early hours of the morning.

“like shit.”

“i assumed, not coming to classes?” she inquired again with a sigh, glancing over your nightstand that was piled with transfiguration homework, a burnt-out candle with wax spilt onto the wooden stand that she would have to scrape off later due to your melancholic mood mixed with your fatigue, and a tea that had been finished more than likely a few days ago that you hadn’t put away in the kitchens yet.

“no, ‘m dying. give me a nice eulogy, love.” you ridiculed with a smirk as your hand moved back to your eyes whilst the natural ivory daylight only began filtering through your dormitory and seeped through the curtains.

“i’ll bring you something after lunch.” she finished with a small kiss on your forehead and the doors creaking yet again as a signal she had left and you were alone yet again with another attempt to sleep away the antagonizing churn of torture coiling in your belly.

as she had trudged off to the gryffindor towers she had run into a familiar bespectacled boy that looked like he had walked into the wrong store after losing his parents as a young boy, his irises moving erratically as well while his hands were anxiously gliding through the familiar brunet tuffs he was almost illustrious for.

as he caught sight of the ginger he began to haul the strap of his nap sack over the burly muscles of his shoulder and strode over to her hastily. his eyes remained searching around the ivory corridors for your house colours in case you were mixed amongst the bunch of students.

“you alright, james?”

he covered his mouth to quickly cough into his fist before he spoke, “yeah, yeah, fine. have you seen y/n? she doesn’t normally miss class.” he articulated with a pronounced frown following a creased brow as he spoke moving his hand around animatedly.

lily’s face began to contort into a rather shocked expression at his surprised demeanour. she scratched the nape of her neck a few times before answering his oblivious question, “yeah, just, erm, lady problems. she’s in her dorm if you wanna see her. but she may be hostile.” she warned with a grin before sauntering off to transfiguration to give professor mcgonagall knowledge and reason of your absence.

“lady problems?” he murmured to himself in evident incertitude. if someone had turned the corner they would’ve blatantly assumed the quidditch captain had gone mad talking to himself rather than figuring out what the gryffindor girl had meant.

did she mean—?

without a second blip of thought, the bespectacled boy opted to skip his classes and rather find out what ‘lady problems’ lily had been rambling about. he trudged to where your common room had remained, and removed the charm on the stairs that had kept males away from entering female dormitories.

he knocked rather harshly without a thought of consideration, hearing a groan emit from the other side. his brow corrugated in a simian frown, only more evident in his features as he pushed open the door steadily. he heard the creaking in the hinges— almost like it was a small bell ringing every time someone had emerged from the other side.

his eyes swooped over the crevices of the room, the small pile of clothes that was spewed out on a chair with creasing forming in them, your school bag is thrown at the side of your bed with textbooks and ink pots spilling onto the floor as well as your bed comforter tremendously crumpled and piled over your silhouette as well as your head.

“darling?” he whispered. his footsteps light on the wood floor as he strode closer. he heard a little ‘mhm’ murmur out underneath the blankets whilst he moved near the four-poster bed.

“‘m guessing lily told you.”

“yeah, lily told me.”

“go away, i’m embarrassed enough as it is.” you began to articulate sternly. your head popping out from under the covers to narrow your eyes into a cerulean pool of blue. his face twisted into shambles of perplexity at your abnormal request of his absence when usually you enjoyed his company regularly.

“why? it’s like— normal.” he questioned with a confused scowl, he continued, a scrambling amount of letters forming in his mind as a way to comfort you as best as he knew. “because, you're a girl. and girls go through all that stuff.” he continued while placing himself on the side of your bed. your brows formed a subtle crease at his regard for your rather agitated and embarrassed state.

you deliberated for a few seconds, opting to pull down the covers of the opposite side of your bed allowing the boy to remove his shoes along with his slacks that hastily fell to the ground and climb next to you as you slowly shifted due to the tensing of your muscles.

“do you want me to grab you anything, m’love.” he murmured into your clothed shoulder, a tender kiss following in its wake. you closed your eyes, your view completely diminishing whilst relishing in the feeling of his mellow torso completely melding into your own like a personal heater that happened to be your cuddler of a boyfriend.

“yeah, but not right now.”

he nodded into your neck, his arms slowly capturing your midriff in a warming clutch. his left palm splaying against your lower abdomen, the balmy touch dissolving into the tense muscles of your belly— pushing you into moderate peace after the comparatively antagonizing morning you had endured.

it was silent for a few minutes, both of you completely cherishing the silence and peace among the both of you. his slight respires fanning over your neck while his hand stayed intact with your lower abdomen. “i don’t want you to be embarrassed when something like this happens. you’re my girl, i don’t want you to hide from me.”

“‘m sorry i just get so— upset and angry, i didn’t want you to think i was annoying or something.” you murmured back demeaningly with a faint sniff, the slight play of guilt on your sensorium building at your sensitive demeans of the week following your mood fluctuations, feeling as if you’ve ignored someone who cares for you. “no need to be sorry,” he began, kissing against the pulse point of your neck, “could never think my favourite person is annoying.”

“‘m not sirius.”

“no offense to sirius, but he’s not m’favourite person.”

“hmm, so s’me?” a smirk began to graze your lips at his dulcet demeanour, most likely because you had been a wretched mess of mood swings like a seesaw going back and forth since the crack of dawn. he nodded bashfully into the confined space of your shoulder. “‘m honoured, jamie.”

he chuckled once before faintly squeezing your upper midriff once more, attempting to completely avoid your lower belly in efforts to soothe you from the writhing pain he had never been accustomed to but he would siphon every single last bit if he could.

“you should be, ‘m the muscular, sexy, hot quidditch captain.” he mused with a grin quirking on his lips at the fact you were beginning to recuperate at his affections.

cocky beautiful bastard.

taglist: @kittykylax @ronbrokemyheart @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @msmb @five-cups-of-coffee @emmaev @serenitywilderness @artemis1orion @miss-starkov @siriusbarnesslut @inglourious-imagines @i-love-scott-mccall @emmaev @famdomhideout @hufflepogue @kirascottage @luvvninaz @miraclesoflove @black-like-my-soul @slytherclawbitch @90steaology

[djarinbarnes]

me olvidarás - eight

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Pairings: Javier Peña x female reader

Warnings for the chapter: jealously, angst, smoking, talk about STD’s, cursing, bad coping mechanisms, 18+ smut, grinding, brief oral, fingering, vaginal sex, Javi’s dirty talk, biting, choking, two idiots.

Word count: 5.1k

Summary: an undeniable warm summer vacation in Bogotá. simply trying to get away from your nosey, boring parents and live for once, you meet a man who impresses you beyond where your imagination could ever take you.

a/n: hi. i hope you like this chapter. it was.... kinda hard to write, so I hope you like it!! as always, thank you to @mcngata​ for aiding me with the whole spanish thing. I love u boo!

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“¿Y qué tenemos aquí?”

You don’t know how to react to the woman standing in front of you. She’s just a little shorter than you, her tan skin slightly glistening from the heat outside. The swells of her breasts are bared, and her stomach is visible where her top doesn’t meet her short skirt. 

You pull your cardigan tighter around your body as she shoots daggers into you with her eyes. You gulp, holding the door as closed as you can to shield yourself from her prying eyes.

“Um… Excuse me?” You manage to croak out, and she lets out a laugh before she’s raising an eyebrow at you. You did understand some from the telenovelas you watched at home, but it was sparse and limited. She’s chewing on a piece of gum, and you watch as her red lips part slightly with every chew.

“¿Cómo te llamas?” She nods at you, and you chew on your lip, finally getting a hang on what she’s saying as she slows down. You tell her your name, and she lets out a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. “¿Y dónde ha recogido Javi a alguien como tú?”

You don’t know how to answer her, or if you even want to answer her, so you don’t. You shrug your shoulders, and you just know she’s enjoying your obliviousness. To protect yourself a little more you close the door a little further, shielding more of you from her. “Can I take a message?” You offer, and you watch as she laughs, her laugh full of viciousness and venom.

“Puedes decirle a Javi… ¿Que cuando deje de jugar con mojigatas, sabra donde encontrar una mujer de verdad?” You know exactly what she’s saying, but you also know that it probably isn’t the best idea to say anything at that moment, so you play dumb. She can see the confusion on your face, and she laughs at your expression. You didn’t like this woman one bit. You still wondered what she could possibly want with Javi.

“You tell Javi,” her voice is also overly sensual in English, her thick Spanish accent lingering in the words, making your heart pick up the pace. “That Helena is looking for him. I need to talk to him. He has my number,” she grins, popping a small bubble with the gum in her mouth before she turns on her heel with a wink, leaving you dumbfounded in the entryway of Javi’s apartment.

You spend the next few hours wondering who this Helena woman was, and how she knew Javi. You knew it probably wasn’t any of your business, yet you couldn’t help yourself. She was beautiful, a pretty little thing and you were sure everything was sitting right on her. Just looking at her for those short minutes, and with the confidence she carried, you were sure they had slept together. And more than once.

You stuff a full, cold enchilada into your mouth, not caring about the way you’re eating since you’re alone. You’re savoring the juicy chicken, holding the back of your hand against your mouth as you chew. You don’t know what’s come over you as you swallow everything down.

You had no idea why you felt this way about an encounter you’d had with this woman. Maybe you were just feeling possessive over Javi, which you had no reason for. It wasn’t like you were dating. You sigh and rub your hands over your face, resisting the urge to sob and cry out.

Glancing up at the clock you realize it’s nearing dinner time, and even though Javi hadn’t asked you to make dinner and even though you’re somewhat mad at him, you make your way to the kitchen to pull out a few pots and pans to make something for when he returns from the office.

You had no idea how long it took to file a report, but you figured it could easily be a drawn-out affair. You decided to leave at 8 if he weren’t home by then, to save you the trouble of coming face to face with him, after your flurry of thoughts and the internal struggle you’d had for the past hours.

You cast a look to into one of the cabinets from where you’ve seen Javi pick out a pack of cigarettes, and you give into the temptation of smoking one. You feel like the whole situation with Helena has made your heart pick up the pace so erratically, you need something to calm yourself down with, even though nicotine probably wasn’t the best antidote. With shaky hands you pull out one of the cigarettes before placing it between your lips, shortly after coming up with a lighter, holding the flame to the tip of it.

You know the first inhale is the worst, so you settle on just a short puff, drawing the smoke into your mouth and inhaling just the slightest of the fumes. With an exhale you realize it isn’t the worst taste or feeling in the world, so you bring the cigarette back to your lips, drawing in a bigger intake of the smoke. You feel it this time, and you cough just a bit at the burn in your lungs.

The taste isn’t the same as when you’ve tasted it on Javi’s tongue. It’s much stronger and harsh in your own mouth, especially since the filter is doing nothing for the tobacco. You look through his fridge and drawers, coming up with enough ingredients to make some chicken with veggies. The cigarette between your lips is disappearing quicker than you would’ve liked, but you figure you just must live with it.

With a sigh you stub out the butt into the ashtray, before you start making dinner. The chicken in browning on the pan, and you’re chopping up some carrots when you hear the door being pushed open, and you sigh in relief when you hear the heavy puff of air leaving Javi as he steps into the threshold. Casting a look at the clock, you find the time to be 7:43pm. Saved by the bell…

“Hey,” you say over your shoulder as you hear him put away his keys and jacket before he’s kicking off his shoes by the door. Then you hear his belt buckle coming undone before he discards it against the floor as well. You feel his arms come around your middle and you feel him tense up – and you know he can smell the nicotine on you, even though he smokes himself.

You decide on not mentioning it if he doesn’t initiate the conversation. “Could get used to this.” he breathes into your neck before he leaves a kiss on your shoulder, letting go of you to set the table. “It isn’t every day I eat a home cooked meal.”

“Was it alright at the office?” you decide to try and make small talk, Helena still nagging at the back of your mind. You weren’t going to bombard him with questions at the first given moment, mainly because you were hungry, but you figured it might be a sensitive topic to him. And on top of that, you didn’t even know what the two of you were, and ultimately, it wasn’t your business.

“It was… like it usually was. Boring and the director was yelling my ear off for the documents being incorrectly filed…” He sighs as he recalls the way he pushed the files off the table to ravage you on his desk like a horny teenage boy. “I managed to sort it all and file the report, though.”

“Oh. That’s good.” You keep it at that, and Javi realizes you’re acting very differently from when he left that very morning. He figured you were acting differently the moment he entered the apartment, since you didn’t come to greet him at the door, like he’d hoped you would have. He’d imagined so many things while at work, and every thought had alighted something inside him.

The first thought had roamed his thoughts as he’d gotten into his car, the way you’d straddled him in the very seat he was now sitting in, and he felt the blood rush to his lower regions. Then he’d somehow heard the sounds you’d let out that very morning when he’d both fucked you and eaten you out right after.

God damn, he wanted to go back into his apartment and take you on every surface, but he knew the odds weren’t in his favor. It was both the world and the director of the DEA that was on and against his ass, even though he was still technically on leave. The problem with the director was, that when she asked you to jump you didn’t say yes or no, but how high.

He even had to excuse himself and act on his arousal a few hours into the paperwork, feeling like a teenage guy yet again as he jerked himself off in the stall to the thought of you. He didn’t know what’d come over him – he just felt the arousal clouding his mind at every moment he was awake, and especially when you were around him.

Yet now it felt off. He didn’t even know why you were acting so differently, since everything seemed to be so comfortable and enthralling when he left. Where he earlier felt like you looked at him like he was the only man in the world, it now felt like the two of you were in the last stage of a relationship, just before parting ways.

Like Javi hadn’t faced a situation like that before. Falling out of love was never easy no matter who it was with and how long it had been. He hadn’t even made his own mind up yet, about the whole situation with you. Everything was moving along so quickly; he had a hard time keeping up. Especially every time he reconsidered your age.

You heard him say your name and you turned off the stove, before turning your head to look at him for the first time since he entered the apartment. “What’s going on?” his voice is full of something you can’t place, and you really do contemplate on either lashing out or doing it in a calm way. You know that no matter what he says, you’re going to overthink it.

“Helena came by.” The moment the words and her name leave your mouth you see his Adams apple bop as he swallows past a sudden lump that has formed in his throat. “She was very intent on you finding a real woman, possibly her, when you were done screwing around with a prude like me.”

You watch as his brows furrow, and you feel your eyes fill with tears. You turn around immediately, not wanting to show him just  how much her words hurt you. You hear him breathe out your name along with a hermosa, and you let out a sob. You really didn’t want to admit how much of an impact her words had had on you.

“Helena?” her name falls from his lips reluctantly, like he can’t believe what you’re telling him. “Helena was here?” You can her the anger in his voice, and you nod while wiping your eyes. You hear him come closer to you, and you flinch when he reaches out to touch you. “Did she say anything else than that?”

“She just asked how I knew you.” You sniff, and you feel his arms come around you again, pulling you into his warm embrace. You know you should probably give in and wrap your arms around him, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. What if he was seeing his Helena woman as well? What if he was having sex with someone else, while he was having sex with you?

You suddenly feel dirty. It dawns on you that you and Javi haven’t used protection at all while you’ve been having sex, and you feel your head going through every emotion all at once. Fear of you contracting something from him. Anger of him leading you on. Disgust with the thought of him having sex with someone else.

Sadness from the mean words Helena has spoken to you. And sadness in the form of you trusting Javi, and him proving that you probably shouldn’t have. You have a hard time focusing on anything at the moment, and you know your body is protecting you from a possible anxiety attack. You know the signs by now, and with the rapid rise and fall of your chest and the blackening before your eyes, you know it’s close.

“I haven’t seen Helena in months, not since…” He trails off, and even though you should probably believe him, you have a hard time doing so. You don’t know what to think at this point. “Come on, I’ll explain it to you.” He takes a hold of your hand and leads you to the couch, where he pushes you down on the soft cushions of the leather couch. He sits down beside you, with a few inches separating you. You appreciate the gesture.

“She’s one of my informants at the embassy,” he starts, and you immediately imagine a hundred things in your mind at once. Informant? Informing him about what? “DEA stands for Drug Enforcement Administration. We’re working towards catching some of the more… hardheaded drug lords in this country.”

It doesn’t catch up to you before now. The bullet wound to his shoulder – your thought about him chasing bad guys… It all clicks right at that moment. The man in front of you chases dangerous criminals for a living. “If you want to know things about them…” He sighs deeply before revealing the next part to you. “I figured you have to hang around the same people they do.” He’s reluctant to add the last part, but when he does you don’t feel much better. “The same women they do.”

“So, she’s a whore?” you hate the word, but you also hate the woman who was at Javi’s door a few hours ago, so you have no problem calling her the profanity. You watch as he nods, his teeth tugging his bottom lip in between them. “Are you…” you have a hard time asking him, but you know you must, considering you haven’t exactly been safe with him. “Clean?”

Javi’s eyebrows furrow at your question, the whole change of subject unsettling him for a second before he catches up. “Yeah.” It’s nothing more than that, so you raise your eyebrows at him. “I usually… use protection with the… informants.” You almost wish he would just say the word, as it if would make you feel better. It kind of feels like he’s sparing himself from the reality of the occupation the women have, and it makes you even sadder.

“Good.” You leave it at that before you rise, walking back over to the stove to reheat the food you were making when he came home. You can’t stop thinking about the information he’s just shared with you, but you also just want to forget she was ever there and that you could just go back to the happy little bubble you and Javi were in that morning.

“You don’t wanna hear the rest of the story? Why she’s coming here, knocking on my door?” Javi speaks to your back, and it really does feel like he’s just talking to a wall. It’s like his words peel off of you, like water on a brick wall. You feel sort of… emotionless about the situation.

“Maybe later.” It’s all you can muster at the moment, not really wanting to sympathize with the whore. Somehow, you just know Javi is and always will be a womanizer. His look, his attitude, the whole way he carries himself. It’s a match made in heaven.

You finish the dinner with your back to Javi, sensing the heavy smell of nicotine lingering in the air from where Javi is still sitting on the couch, puffing at a cigarette. You move the pots and pans to the table before you walk over to where Javi is sitting, his hands rubbing at his forehead while the lit cigarette is resting in the ashtray in front of him.

You lift it to your lips and take the last drag, before stubbing it out right in front of him. “Dinner is ready.” You tell him, your exhale full of smoke before you turn on your heel, grabbing two beers from his fridge. You watch as he rises from the couch, his eyes on you as you open the two beers before sitting down opposite of where he’s still standing.

No words are spoken between the two of you as you eat, and for the first time, the silence between the two of you is deafening. The space between the two of you is filled with uncertainty and unspoken words as you both fill your mouths. Javi rises in the middle of dinner to retrieve two additional beers from the fridge, and you hear the clinking of the bottles as he removes the caps.

He stands beside you as he sets the newly opened beer beside your empty bottle before the hand previously containing the bottle rests against the expanse of your shoulder. You draw both your lips into your mouth and close your eyes as you feel the warmth of his palm seeps into your skin from on top of your clothes.

“Hermosa.” You feel as his hands move, and when you open your eyes, he’s placed himself on the seat beside you. “You need to know.” You turn your body slightly, urging him to try his luck. “Helena…” you the sound of her name spilling from his lips makes your heart pound faster in your chest.

The emotions encapsulated in his brown eyes are unlike anything you’ve ever seen on him before. You can see the internal struggle he’s fighting at the moment, and something tells you it’s not easy for him to… tell you what he’s about to tell you.

“A few weeks ago, Helena was… kidnapped. And what they did to her, the men…” It’s like the whole incident replays before his eyes as he tries to find the right words to phrase anything. “It wasn’t good. I found her there, naked, molested by those men.”

Javi bites the inside of his cheek as he, again, searches for words. “Since… then, she’s been seeking me out frequently. Whereas it was previously me that sought her out, it was like the tables had turned. She got… obsessed with me. I don’t know why.” Your eyes shoot down as you sense movement, and you watch as he reaches for your hand. Reluctantly, you let him.

“Listen, I don’t know what I’m going to do about it. She obviously doesn’t understand a no.” You bite your lip, still not wanting to look at him, just to keep him at an arm’s length. “Hermosa, I swear I…” With everything Javi has just told you, you still don’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, you want to slap him, even though it’s not his fault.

A few minutes pass in silence, where neither of you make the moves to neither move nor speak. You let your tongue clean the outside of your teeth, contemplating on whether to take another sip of your beer or actually talk to Javi. You let out a breath before looking back up at him. His eyes are trained on you, watching you like you were the most important thing in the world at that moment.

“Sounds like you’ve got some serious lady troubles, Javi.” The sound he lets out is something between a snort and a laugh. You can barely contain your own laughter as Javi practically doubles over on top of you in a fit of tears and laughter. All the anger you’d held in for the previous hours had disappeared and had simply been replaced with… or gone back to affection.

When he pulls back, his eyes are full of tears from the laughter he’d just let out. You lick your lips and smile when he finally stops laughing. “Please forgive… whatever that was. Forgive me.” You nod before he leans into your personal space, nudging your chin up with his nose before leaning in to place a kiss on your lips.

You pull him closer by the neck, nuzzling your fingers into the hairs at the nape of his neck as you slide your lips over his. It feels good to have your lips back on his. No matter how much you’d wanted to punch him in the face not more than an hour ago, that had all dispersed when he’d actually opened his mouth.

“You’re not…” he sighs. “Mad. Are you?” he breathes against your lips, and you suppress a small smile playing on your lips. You shake your head slightly, before you breathe a soft no against his lips. Without saying anything, his lips find yours again, more eagerly this time.

With a fall of his hands to your hips, he’s swiftly getting on his knees before you, pulling your loose-fitted pants down your legs swiftly, his arms quickly spreading your legs on either side of his hips before pulling you close to him and into his lap. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling slightly at the strands, drawing a moan from his lips and into your mouth.

You feel every thought you’ve been overthinking during the day go out the window when he grinds himself up into you, letting you feel his hardened cock. Every common sense within you is telling you to stop, telling you to leave while you still can, yet your body isn’t complying at all. That, and your own mind is fighting itself as his lips move down your throat.

You throw your head back to give him more access, whimpering as his mustache and lips grazes against your sensitive pulse point. You feel heat bloom in your core, spreading from your abdomen and throughout your body. Your toes are tingling by the time his lips reach your collarbones, your fingers trembling as you hold onto the back of his neck.

His hands move on their own accord as he pushes your cardigan off your shoulders before he’s detaching his lips from your skin, swiftly pulling off your shirt before reattaching them to the bared skin of the swell of your breast. His fingers are soft as they trail up the expanse of your spine before he snaps the clasp of your bra open before pulling it off your arms.

He grunts against your skin as he ruts his hips up into yours, one hand grasping the back of your neck gently while the other holds your hip tightly. He places a constellation of kisses against your bare breasts, twirling his tongue around the perked bud, drawing a moan from your lips.

“Come, turn around.” His voice is hoarse from arousal as he speaks before he rises on his knees slightly. You get off his lap and turn on your knees, and you lay your chest against the chair you were previously sitting on with a push of his hand to your shoulder.

You brace yourself against the seat of the chair, feeling as the fabric of your panties are slid down your hips. You hold in a breath as you feel his exhale on the globes of your ass, your exhale shaky as your feel his tongue gently slides in between the lips of your pussy.

You have no idea how something so carnal can feel so good, but you’re not going to be the one to complain. You whimper as his warm hands spread your cheeks apart to give him more access to your pussy before he delves further into your folds, burying his tongue within your heat.

“You taste so damn good.” You hear him speak between his tongue flicking at your clit and fucking you with it. You whimper as he pushes a finger into your slick heat, curling it downwards to the front of your cunt. With every thrust of his finger and every moan spilling from your lips, he grins against your skin as he moves his lips to the globe of your butt cheeks.

You feel his teeth sink into your skin before he kisses his way up the back of your ass, all the way up to between your shoulders. His fingers retract themselves from your heat and you feel him shift behind you, you hear his groan from behind you and you assume he’s cleaning his fingers with his mouth all while pushing his pants down.

There’s something about seeing you bent over a chair like this that ignites something inside him. Seeing you so bared and vulnerable and spread out – just for him. His cock twitches at the sight of your clenching pussy in front of his eyes.

“Please…” He grips your hips as you push back against him, urging him to get on with what you’re expecting him to do. You hear his low grunt in your ear as he pushes against your opening, causing you to let out a whimper. You grind your hips back again, whimpering as the head of his cock fills you just the slightest.

Not even a second passes until he’s burying himself to the hilt within you, causing you to let out a throaty whine. His hand comes around to grasp your throat, his fingers tightening just the slightest around the column of your neck.

“More, move please, Javi.” You whimper, his grip cutting off your air supply gently as he starts thrusting his hips into yours rapidly. His pace is unrelenting as he ruts his hips into yours, your whimpers and moans begging him for more.

“Te gusta eso, eh?” his voice is low in your ear mixed with his grunts and the feel of his teeth sink into your shoulder. You whimper at the many feelings coming over you all at once, mixed with the deep voice, full of arousal. “Sí… Sí, lo haces…”

“Javi…” you whimper, your hand coming up to grasp the back of his neck as the other clings to the leg of the chair. You felt as the hand on your hip slid to the front of your body, his fingers sliding through the wetness practically dripping from your core and onto the floor.

Javi coaxed at your nub while still withholding the pace he had set, swiftly pinching your clit to feel you clench around him. The hand on your throat made its way into your hair, fingers tightening in it, turning it into a makeshift ponytail before pulling your head back harshly.

Your back is pulled roughly against his front, his hips still driving in and out of you as his fingers continue their assault on your bundle of nerves. Your slick is just about dripping down the insides of your thighs and your chest is heaving violently at the inability to even put together a sentence.

“Estas tan caliente por mi, goteando por todo mi jodido piso…” his lips are right at your ear as he speaks, and he grunts as you clench around him. His thrusts become erratic as he pushes his fingers against you faster, quicker, almost demanding you to cum with his actions.

You want to cum desperately, you need to cum on his cock, just as much as he needs you to explode around him like you did that very morning. Just the thought of the events of the day brings something out in Javi – something that makes him even more keen on drawing you to the edge.

Maybe it’s anger, or maybe it’s just possessiveness overcoming him as he feels you soak his cock even more. You let out a scream, your walls clutching his cock ever so tightly everything blackens before his eyes. He sinks his teeth deep into your shoulder as he empties himself into your begging heat.

You go slack against him as the aftershocks of your orgasm rolls over you, yet the feel of his arms around you makes the violent trembling in your body seem like the most amazing thing in the world. His chest is warm and sweaty against your back, and his breaths come out as deep puffs against your skin.

You turn slightly and push your lips against his, feeling a drop of sweat from his forehead land against your cheek as he kisses you with relentlessness. “Didn’t…” you breathe, his arms wrapping tighter around your middle. “think of you…” he’s intent in his kisses by now, not wanting to be separated from you at that moment.

“As the possessive type.” You finally manage to breathe, and you feel how he tenses up against you. You let out a short laugh as he pulls out and away from you, huffing as he pulls his pants back up from around his knees. You raise your eyebrow at him as he grunts while standing, his hand resting just above his knee as he stretches his legs.

“I’m not possessive.” He huffs again, licking and biting his lips as he watches you shift on the floor. He can see the mixture of your cum pooling on his floor as you continue sitting on your knees, your legs spread slightly. You let out another laugh before standing, pulling him close by the neck boldly.

“Yeah you are. But you’re also afraid.” You turn and pick all of your discarded clothes off the floor before putting them on. You know he’s watching you, you can almost feel the holes his eyes are burning into your body as he gulps.

“Afraid of what?” he tries softly, and you barely hear it. You turn to him as you pull your cardigan on before crossing your arms over your chest. You watch as he mimics your stance – crossing his arms over his chest as he raises his eyebrow at you.

Ever since he shared the details of… whatever had happened with Helena, you’d known instantly. There was not much to say to it though, because with the knowledge you’d gained from reading your novels… That much you knew. You knew the signs, and they were clearly visible in the man standing right in front of you.

“You’re afraid of love.”

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[lumosinlove]

PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL:

We get our first glimpse of Finn, who is still in Saint Clair orphanage. Finn has worked out that Crucio is being given to the orphans because it allows them to see their families again and makes them want to stay at Saint Clair so they can keep receiving it—even if it means reliving memories every day that are not their own. Finn doesn’t want that at all, and he’s been in solitary for the last week because he refuses to eat, realizing that the drug is mixed in with the food.

Luke is struggling with his mother, who seems to be delighted that Luke’s father is gone. She has completely transformed into a woman Luke doesn’t recognize, offering him alcohol, and wanting to get rid of Luke’s father’s things. Luke escapes her words, retreating to his father’s study where he can take Crucio and re-arrange the events in his own mind, making it so his father never got taken away.

Remus and Sirius, at James’ house for a movie night, have an awkward exchange in the kitchen. Remus wants to ask Sirius if he wants to go sailing with him, quickly realizing the unexplainable but seemingly unavoidable crush he’s developed on Sirius, but they get interrupted by Saint.

Saint asks Remus to help him sneak into The Hogwarts History Museum, where Remus is working for the summer, but when Remus refuses, guesses he has to take matters into his own hands.

Saint finds Luke on the grasses with the others, watching a movie. Luke wants his father’s watch, which Saint stole, back, but Saint refuses. Luke can’t believe Saint has never seen many movies, but rudely puts it up to Saint’s “fucked childhood.” They argue, and it just makes Saint quietly angrier. Saint thinks more deeply about it than he lets on, though, reflecting on people’s need to control things—a need that Crucio plays on. Saint leaves, but not after stealing the keys to Luke’s car, deciding he can control things a different way—with ancient gold from an ancient pirate ship, perhaps.

Sirius follows Saint out of the house. He can tell that he’s more on edge than usual, that he has been ever since Logan arrived. Saint won’t tell him what he wants from the museum, though—a treasure map to the Voldemort. Sirius is hurt. He’s angry at himself for liking Remus. Both Sirius and Saint, it seems, have a hard time distinguishing pity and friendship.

Leo and Logan are waiting for Saint so that they can all go to the museum together. Leo asks about Finn and finds out that Logan and Finn are in love, that they’re everything to each other. It stings Leo’s slowly developing feelings for Logan.

Remus and Sirius go to the history museum to try and thwart Saint and find out he’s working with Logan and Leo, and that they’re all after The Voldemort. Saint confesses he’s trying to help Sirius, to Sirius’ surprise. Leo wants to finish his father’s work. Logan wants Finn—but no one seems willing to help him bust Finn out. When they find the drawer where the map should be kept in the museum’s archive room, however, it’s gone, having been taken out on loan by Luke’s father, Victor Deveaux. Victor and Luke loved the tale of the treasure, too. Perhaps it has something to do with Victor being sent to jail.

They go to Luke’s house where Saint climbs through Luke’s bedroom window. Saint studies a sleeping Luke, a strange, unexpected constant—a brooding, rude, beautiful one, that is. And oh, how Saint hates letting things surprise him. Saint wakes Luke, who has taken Crucio, and plans to use his father’s watch as leverage to get Luke to help them find the map.

~

*****cw: mentions of drugs, mentions of use of drugs, mentions of past deaths, mentions of past abuse, mentions of blood*****

~

part vii

Luke’s father was standing over Remus’ shoulder, flickering as the Felix wore off, and it was really fucking with Luke’s head.

“Some fellow treasure hunters,” his father said with one of his soft smiles. “Sounds fun.”

“Sober up,” Remus’ voice filtered in. “What makes you sober up?”

“I’m not drunk.”

Luke watched Remus just shake his head at him. His father’s flickering frame was looking closely at Saint, who was picking up everything in sight.

“We both know what you are,” Remus replied. “Now, come on. Coffee? Anything I can do without waking your mom up.”

“She’s not going to wake up,” Luke rubbed his eyes. “She takes these—sleeping things, I don’t know.”

“Well—“ Remus hesitated. Behind him, Luke’s father flickered out.

“I’m fine,” Luke said. “What’s going on?”

“We’re bargaining, remember?” Saint held up Luke’s father’s watch again. “Tell me about your father, Deveaux.”

Luke blinked. “What?”

“Well, Lupin’s already told us a little. You, him, and your treasure hunting days.”

Luke looked at Remus, who looked half-guilty and half-curious. “You mean—like when we were kids?”

Luke didn’t want to tell them about the time he had spent with his father in here, just the two of them, fantasizing about gold and pirates.

“We were at the museum just now,” Remus began slowly. “Your dad loaned out a map…it’s of the Cradle. Of a, what was it, a trading post?”

The tall, blond boy standing in a corner nodded.

Remus looked back to Luke. “Have you seen it? Here?”

“A map?” Luke scrubbed his hand over his face again. “What fucking time is it?”

“Oh, he’s swearing,” Saint said as he opened another drawer. “He’s back.”

“Fuck—” Luke clamped his mouth shut. He turned away from Saint and fully towards Remus. Sirius and another dark haired boy were standing near the blond one. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Treasure?”

Remus winced. “Like the Voldemort.”

“The—what? He was never serious about that stuff,” Luke replied. “It was just for fun.”

“And yet he takes it upon himself to acquire an ancient document,” Saint piped up from behind him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Luke said again over his shoulder.

“Um—“

Luke looked towards the blond boy, who had taken a hesitant step forward.

“I know what it looks like. My dad had a copy.”

“A true father’s affair,” Saint mumbled.

“What?” Luke asked for what felt like the one hundredth time.

“If we could just look around—” the blond began.

“You come here at ass o’clock in the morning to look around may dad’s study? For a treasure map that your dad has?”

“Used to have,” the blond’s eyes went colder. “His version was lost with him and his boat.”

Luke swallowed, eyes drifting away from the other boy’s blue ones. He looked back to Remus. They used to spend hours playing pirate when they were younger. Remus looked like he was remembering those hours, too.

Luke only had to blink for that golden-edged memory to mingle with the hours Remus had held Luke close in Luke’s bed, letting Luke soak his t-shirt through when they’d taken his dad away.

“Why do you think my dad has it?” Luke said now. “What do you mean loaned?”

“We went looking for it at the museum just now,” Remus explained. “Well—not not we. Saint stole your car—”

Luke looked back at Saint. “I’m aware.”

Saint flashed a smile.

“—and went with Logan,” Remus pointed to the somber looking brunette, “and Leo,” the cold-eyed blond, “to more or less, God, break into the museum archives. If they’re going to find the treasure—which, in my opinion, they’re not—they need—”

“A map,” Luke said, then scoffed out a laugh. “You guys are fucking crazy.”

Remus ran a hand through his hair. “Look, none of this was my idea, but your dad’s name was on the loan card. If it’s here, it's here, and then they’ll take the picture they need and we can all leave. I mean, shit, I have work at seven tomorrow morning, guys.”

Luke let out a long breath. He was tired, from being woken up and from the Felix, and he frankly wanted Saint to stop messing with his father’s things.

He nodded at Remus. “You can look around. And I will. The rest of you, don’t fucking—” he snatched one of his father’s fountain pens out of Saint’s hands. “touch anything.”

Saint just tiled his head defiantly. Luke couldn’t help but hold his gaze for a moment, remembering waking up to those syrupy eyes and feeling—he didn’t know what. Like he was standing on the edge of the Howler cliffs, above a storm-warmed, rough ocean. Saint’s hand had been in his hair, and it had been ever so gentle, unlike the rest of him. His words were tough, and, from what Luke could tell by his own jabs at Saint, so was his skin. He guessed a kid didn’t grow up the way Saint had without at least a little armor—Saint was practically drowning in his own.

As if Luke could talk. Luke looked away and gestured towards Remus. “Let’s get this over with.”

Luke opened drawers and cabinets. He looked through stacks of paper and under dressers. He checked the den, even, just in case, but there was nothing. Everything was orderly—and even more, the police had taken so much. Any paper they could get their hands on. His mom wouldn’t tell him what they were looking for, and neither would the lawyers that occasionally came to the house.

But there was no map.

Luke began to double check, if only at Remus’ insistence, but he was at a loss. There were only so many places—

“What’s your birthday, tweedle?” Saint said suddenly.

“What does that have to do—” Luke began as he turned, but his words died in his throat when he saw Saint.

Luke’s father had had the old map of Hogwarts framed and hanging in his study ever since Luke could remember. He knew its markings as well as he knew the island as it was today. Saint had it tilted to the side, revealing a sliver of sleek steel. A safe.

“I told you not to touch anything,” Luke said breathlessly. He hadn’t known about that safe. He’d stared at that map a thousand times and he hadn’t known. Did his mother know? The lawyers?

“I bet you one of Leo here’s best breakfast sandwiches that the map’s in here,” Saint replied, nodding to the frame. “Little bit of an X marks the spot, don’t you think? Now,” Saint reached for the painting and unhooked it smoothly, setting it on the ground to reveal the neat square metal sunken into the wall with a dial in the center. “Tell me your birthday.”

“Why do you think the combination is my birthday?”

Saint rolled his eyes. “Because you’re his son. Fathers do that. Don’t they?”

Saint asked the last part like he was trying to be sure, but wasn’t.

“January first,” Luke replied.

Saint hummed as he leaned in. “New year, new you, huh?”

Luke just swallowed dryly as he listened to the dial tick. It felt so loud in the room that was now holding its breath. It felt like it lasted forever, but, finally, the safe opened with a gentle click.

“Damn, Saint,” Sirius said softly.

“I know, I’m so good,” Saint said, and made to push the door open when Luke pushed forward and grabbed his hand. Saint’s fingers were warm in his own. Saint raised an eyebrow.

“Like you said,” Luke still felt breathless. “I’m his son. I’m doing this.”

Saint raised his free hand in surrender until Luke let go, and he backed away. Luke faced the safe. He felt the Felix in him all over again, though it was long gone. He felt his father, smelled his cigars. Luke reached for the door, too aware of the four pairs of eyes on him, and pulled it open.

It was relatively empty. There were papers that looked like they had once bound money, but lay ripped and lifeless now. There was a case of expensive cigars.

And there was an envelope with Luke’s name on it.

“There’s a letter,” Luke said faintly, picking it up. “For me.”

He looked up at Remus, and Remus nodded.

“Like the clues he would leave us?” Remus said quietly.

Luke went for the seal—only to have it snatch out of his hands.

He looked up, eyes wide, and found the unfamiliar brunette—Logan, Remus had said—staring back at him, at all of them, with wild green eyes.

“Logan,” Leo said, voice filled with surprise. “What the hell are you—”

But Logan just backed up towards the door. There was a familiar click, and the flame of a lighter appeared in his other hand.

“Hey—” Luke stepped forward, panicked, but Saint’s palm pushed against his chest.

“Don’t,” Saint said softly, for Luke’s ears only.

“That’s mine,” Luke snarled, shoving Saint away.

“Yeah, well I have something I want, too,” Logan snapped, and then looked at Saint. He held the flame closer to the envelope. “You want to know what this says? Then—”

“So do you, Logan,” Saint said. “You need that money. You know you do. The Carrows know it, too.”

“You owe me something first. I want Finn.”

“I don’t owe you,” Saint replied evenly. “I don’t owe anyone. That’s kind of my general idea in life, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Logan faltered, and the flame slipped close enough to the envelope to make smoke trail, but when Luke stepped forward, Logan took another step back. He looked small, framed by the grand desk and leather chairs. Small and scared.

“You left us in there,” he finally whispered, and Luke thought he heard Saint’s breathing stop and hold, like a punch to the gut.

“He was seven years old,” Sirius growled, and Luke didn’t know what they were talking about, was done waiting.

“Do you know the last time I talked to my dad?” Luke said, voice raising. He glanced upstairs, careful of his mother despite her pills, and dropped it to a deadly whisper again. “He’s not allowed calls. Not until the investigation’s over. This could—” Luke hesitated at putting his wildest, most desperate hope into words. “This could prove he’s—”

“Do you think I give a shit about the last time you talked to your daddy?” Logan snarled just as harshly. “When’s the last time I talked to mine? Oh. Right.”

“Please,” Luke heard the word rip out of his throat before he could help it, but Logan wasn’t even looking at him. Logan’s eyes were on Saint.

“Help me get Finn out. The windows are barred now. There are alarms, I’ve seen them.”

“I didn’t use a window,” Saint replied.

“Then show me how you did it.”

“You won’t be able to get in the way I got out.”

“Then do it for me.”

If Luke was begging, so was Logan.

“Fuck, I’ll help you,” Luke shouted. “Just don’t. Please. My father—”

“You don’t know shit about Saint Clair,” Logan snapped, then looked back at Saint. “We both know where he is. Why I haven’t seen him. Saint—”

“All right,” Saint said, voice calm. His brown eyes reminded Luke of stormy seas, ruddy with stirred up sand. “All right, Logan. Just don’t burn the letter.”

“Promise,” Logan said.

Saint laughed, cold and clear. “What has a promise ever meant to either of us? I said I would. Take it or leave it.”

There was a terrifying moment in which Luke worried that the letter would go up in flames anyway. That he would never know what his father had wanted him to have, wanted him to know. He didn’t know Logan, didn’t trust him.

The lighter clicked off and Logan held out the envelope. Luke took it and gave Logan a shove towards the door for good measure.

“Get out,” he said. “Get out of my house.”

“What does the letter say?” Logan replied firmly. “It could be about the map.”

Luke laughed, and it rang a close twin to Saint’s in his own ears. “You should have thought about that before you held it hostage for your orphan friend.”

Logan took a step forward, mouth opening to protest, but Luke was bigger than him, stronger and taller. He met him chest to chest.

“I said get out.”

“Logan,” Saint sighed. “Listen to him.”

Leo stepped forward then, a gentle hand on Logan’s fiery frame. Logan simmered for another moment, but let Leo lead him from the room, lighter still clutched in his fist. Remus followed them with a whispered, I’m sorry that Luke barely heard.

He faintly heard Saint say something to Sirius, who followed Remus.

Saint, the only one left in the room now, looked at Luke steadily. Luke expected some sort of joke, or a snarky remark about the desperation Luke had shown—something he tried to never let slip through. He didn’t care what it was. He just wanted to be alone, to have this room feel like his father’s again. Instead of a crime scene. Instead of a lead, or a pin-point on a map. Just his father’s familiar room.

Instead Saint tossed him something that shone—his keys.

“Let us know, if you want,” Saint said simply, and held the gold watch out. Luke took it with shaking fingers, watching him go.

Then, he looked down at the letter, at his name in his father’s familiar scrawl. He peeled back the seal with a lump forming in his throat.

~

Remus’ steps slowed to a stop when he saw who was waiting for him at the end of his dock in the five-AM light.

Sirius had his flip-flops beside him, his feet dangling over the edge into the water, the Wolfsbane rocking gently in the early morning waves to his left.

“Sirius?” Remus called, more so that the first thing Sirius felt wasn’t the shaking of his footsteps than anything else.

Sirius jerked around, startled either way, and scrambled to stand.

“Hi,” he said. “Or, morning.”

“Morning,” Remus laughed a little, glancing at the boat. “I…is this you taking me up on my offer?”

Sirius ran a hand through his thick black hair. “Ah, well, I’m here to say sorry about last night. Dragging you into it and all. That wasn’t fair of Saint, but he’s…I don’t know what he is right now. I usually do but…not this time, I guess.”

Remus nodded, trying to buy himself time to figure out what to say. He stepped onto his boat and took a rope in hand, just for something to do. To hold onto. Sirius had spoken the words plainly enough. There was nothing about Saint and himself being together, but Remus still sensed some sort of intimacy that wasn’t quite friendship, just as he had at the museum.

“It’s okay,” Remus said. “All’s well that ends well, right?”

Sirius’ smile was a small, relieved one. “I guess so. Still. He was on some sort of mission. He still hasn’t told me anything, so.”

Remus leaned back from stowing his phone and keys securely in a hatch. “He doesn’t seem like the type of person you can really get things out of.”

“That’s true,” Sirius laughed, and it was easier this time. “Anyway, I’ll let you…I just wanted to say.”

Remus wanted to ask again, if Sirius would come with him, but Sirius was already backing away and so Remus just nodded.

“Thanks.”

He turned after he said it, breathing in the ocean air and trying to still himself, to let the familiarity of his boat and sails wash over him. He would find someone. Maybe they weren’t Sirius Black. Maybe they just weren’t here. Maybe he’d fall in love on the water, or in a classroom, or—

“Can I?” Remus heard Sirius say, and turned to look. Sirius had stopped half way down the dock.

Remus raised an eyebrow.

“Take you up on your offer?”

Remus smiled, even if his hope at Sirius’ words paired with the thought of Saint made his heart a little tender.

“Of course you can,” Remus said.

Sirius jogged towards him with a grin of his own, but he paused before he stepped onto the Wolfsbane, looking down. Remus wondered for a moment if it was the gap over the water, but Sirius had said he sailed, too, he’d said—

Remus understood. He unmoored the nose. “Get that rope back there if you finally want to do something other than watch.”

Sirius jumped to unknot the rope with ease, and then stepped onto the waves beside Remus, using one of his feet to push them away from the dock. Remus let them drift a moment, feeling for the wind. It was quiet for now, but he could see rougher waves out past the point.

“Is it just yours?” Sirius asked as he watched Remus with the tiller.

“Yep, birthday present,” Remus patted the side. “My baby.”

Sirius smiled. “It’s a beautiful boat.”

The wind began to pick up as they got farther from the land, pushing towards the open water. Remus’ heart seemed to pick up with it and, glancing at Sirius, who looked contemplative and—well, beautiful—Remus didn’t think it was merely the sea’s doing.

Remus had never thought too much about Sirius Black. Sirius had been there one day, gone the next, and in the run-ins at James’ house once Sirius had started working there, he had been a suddenly handsome face. Grown into himself and strong from his outdoor work. In turn, Remus always became suddenly awkward around the boy who obviously didn’t like Gods. He and James poked fun at each other, he and Luke were downright hostile, and Remus didn’t know where he fit in.

He hoped the water and the Wolfsbane would do some talking for him, and maybe some listening, too.

They didn’t speak as they began to fly. The pontoons skimmed the waves and the wind would have snatched their voices away, but Remus swore he heard Sirius laugh.

Sirius knew how to sail, too. He breathed it all in, just as Remus did, and they worked together, balancing and pulling and leaning out to trace their fingers along the water’s surface. It felt as warm as a bath against the cool air.

Remus didn’t let them go too far out, he had to be back, but he would have. He would have sailed right to the horizon with Sirius without looking back.

As the wind died down, as they turned around, Remus felt something different. Like a wind change between the two of them. They grinned at each other, flushed with it, and as the wind cut down more, as they past the point, Sirius’ turned self-conscious but it didn’t disappear like before.

The boat settled into a glide towards the shore. Remus let his feet dangle in the water.

“So, the treasure,” Remus asked, because Sirius looked hesitant to talk, sitting there soundly on the other side of the boat. “Do you think it’s real?”

“Fuck if I know,” Sirius replied, and Remus laughed. “But if Saint thinks it’s worth it…I’ll try to go along with it.”

Remus nodded, taking that in. Saint. The mention of him slowed his heart back to a glide along with the boat. Remus cleared his throat and Sirius looked back at him from the horizon questioningly.

“What was that thing with—Logan? I mean, you don’t have to tell me but…”

Sirius took a long breath. “Logan has someone, Finn, inside Saint Clair. Finn helped him escape. And I don’t know if it’s guilt that’s making him help to get Finn out, or something more, but…Saint's the one who can help.”

“Because he escaped.”

Sirius nodded. “Right.”

“Is it complicated?” Remus asked. “Like, is he worried he won’t be able to do it twice?”

Sirius shook his head. “It’s not complicated.”

He was silent for a moment, and Remus didn't want to push him. He waited, seeing if Sirius would continue.

“Saint walked right out the front door,” Sirius finally finished, and looked at Remus. “I think he’s worried because it wasn’t a grand escape, even if he tells it that way. Even if he makes it seem like he climbed walls or something. He’s worried because…because it was a fluke. Sometimes there are doors you can’t walk back through.”

Sirius said the last sentence heavily, as if he had a door of his own. Remus guessed that maybe everyone did.

“So, what’s he going to do for Finn and Logan?”

Sirius just shook his head again. “I have no idea. But I’ll help him in any way that I can.” Half a smile raised Sirius’ mouth. “If he lets me.”

~

“No.”

“Tell me,” Sirius demanded. Saint just rolled his eyes and popped a sweet potato fry into his mouth.

“Tell us,” Dorcas cut in from her place beside Marlene.

“Right,” Sirius said. “Sorry.”

“Saint,” Marlene sighed. “If you’re not going to tell us, it’ll make us think you have no plan at all.”

“Who invited the God?” Saint said airily.

“My girlfriend,” Dorcas scuffed the back of his head.

“Not for long she’s not,” Saint replied, and at Dorcas and Marlene’s expressions, waved a hand. “Come on. She’s going to college, Dor, you’re not…don’t tell me you haven’t talked about it.”

“We—” Dorcas began, but flushed and closed her mouth. Sirius glanced at Marlene, whose eyes were firmly down towards her burger.

“Stop trying to change the subject,” Sirius sighed.

“I’m not, I’m just telling everyone what to expect.”

“Saint,” Sirius leaned forward. “How are you going to get Finn out of Saint Clair? You said last time—”

Saint cut in quickly, “I say a lot of things to you that are just for you, Black.”

“Well, I don’t know what to do with what you said,” Sirius replied. “Come on. Please. Is it because you don’t know? Is that why you won’t say anything?”

Saint stayed quiet, looking down at his food. “I know. We’ll just have to see if it works.”

“Saint,” Dorcas leaned forward and Saint turned his palm up for her hand. He knew they were trying to help. “Babe, we just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“You mean you want to make sure it’s not too insane.”

Sirius nodded. “That, too.”

“Can’t you just rest assured that I’m doing this for myself, too?” Saint said. “I’ll get Finn out, Logan will calm the fuck down, and maybe Luke will let us know about the treasure.”

“Who gives a fuck about this treasure?” Dorcas said harshly.

“It probably doesn’t even exist,” Sirius added.

“You want off this island, like you said? Then you give a fuck.”

Sirius began to shake his head. “It’s not—” he said, but Saint pushed on, voice raising.

“We’ll get Finn out, we’ll get Luke’s help, we’ll get the map, we’ll find my mom—”

Saint stopped talking, frozen by the words that had ripped out of him of their own accord.

Sirius, Dorcas, and Marlene’s eyes were wide. Pity. The word seemed to hang in the air.

“The treasure, I meant,” Saint managed. “We’ll find the treasure and…”

“Saint…” Dorcas said, and when he looked at her…Pity. “Do you know where she is?”

Saint was furious with himself for the slip. He was looking for Sirius. He wanted the treasure for Sirius, he didn’t need it for himself. He didn’t need anything, especially not people who left. Not his mom, not Sirius.

“I don’t need help with Saint Clair,” Saint said and pushed his chair back, leaving them staring at each other across the table.

~

Saint hadn’t let any of them come. He didn’t want anyone here to see him tremble and shake at doing the one thing he had always promised himself he would never do. The one thing he didn’t think he could do.

But, thinking about it, the trick wasn’t getting out. Anyone could walk out the door. The nuns needed it that way, for business. For the appearance of normalcy. The real trick was getting inside without being let in. The way to keep secrets, after all, wasn’t keeping everyone out. Walls begged to be breached. The secret was to filter the truth. Let people see half, a quarter, or different parts at different times. The trick was getting in to see the whole picture.

Maybe Saint was half of Saint Clair, keeping his cards close to his chest.

The offices. He needed to get the the offices, and then he needed to get to Finn. In and out—just not through the door this time.

“What’s the plan?” said a voice just behind him, and Saint closed his eyes.

Sirius.

“I told you not to come,” Saint said.

“And I told me yes,” Sirius parroted. They rolled their eyes at each other even as Sirius rested a gentle hand over Saint’s where it was clenched over his own knee. They crouched beside each other, staring at Saint Clair in the darkness. It was two in the morning, maybe a little past it now, and Saint wanted everyone to be asleep.

He looked towards the chimney. It was wide and old fashioned. It would be too hot for them to be using it tonight.

“Jesus Christ,” Sirius sighed, following his gaze.

“The windows are barred. The doors are alarmed. I’ve cleaned that thing, I know it’s big.”

“Yeah, everything looks big to a seven year old,” Sirius countered.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

“And getting out?” Sirius asked.

“Alarms don’t go off if you open the door from the inside. There’s a kitchen door around the back. We’ll use it. We just have to get in.”

Sirius nodded slowly, and then asked, “Your mom?”

Saint pressed his lips together. He needed to get to the office, and then to Finn, and then out.

He started forward towards the drain pipe, just like on Luke’s house, and didn’t look to see if Sirius was following him.

~

Marlene didn’t like seeing that contemplating look at Dorcas’ face. Dorcas was chewing on her lip, eyes staring at the movie playing on Marlene’s laptop, but she was somewhere else entirely. Marlene put her pencil down at wiggled her toes, which were in Dorcas’ lap. Dorcas blinked and looked at her.

“Don’t listen to Saint,” Marlene said. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

But even saying that ate at her. Marlene thought of the acceptance email, of California and Berkeley, buried in her inbox right now. Tell her, said everything inside, but Dorcas already had that look on her face. The worrying, I-want-everything-that’s-good-for-you-regardless-of-what-it-means-for-me-or-us look.

Marlene didn’t want to see that look. She’d seen it the first time her father had banned her from seeing a Salazar girl. They had been fifteen and Dorcas had offered to stop, and Marlene had kissed the idea right out of her mouth, right out of existence.

This was different. She couldn’t kiss college away. She didn’t want to. But she also wanted Dorcas, and California felt far, far away.

Dorcas chewed on her lip some more, then rubbed a soothing thumb over Marlene’s ankle. “We haven’t really talked about it, though.”

“I know,” Marlene said softly. She pushed herself up and set her sketchbook aside before reaching over to close the laptop, cutting the actor off in mid-sentence. “I guess I’m sort of…avoiding it.”

“We are, you mean,” Dorcas offered her a small smile. “I…I know we said we wanted to just have our summer, and I do want that. But I think I would feel better knowing what you think. About, you know…about when you do start hearing back.”

Marlene looked down as she whispered, “I got into Berkeley.”

A short sucked-out sound of silence filtered in between them for a moment. Marlene looked up.

“I should have said,” Marlene sighed. “I know I should have. I just…”

“Sweetheart,” Dorcas sighed, and then Marlene was pressed back onto the bed, Dorcas’ hard kisses bringing a hot blush to her cheeks. “That’s amazing.”

Marlene hummed against Dorcas’ mouth, a sad-happy sound, and wound her fingers into her hair as Dorcas kissed along her jaw. “It can be as amazing as it wants, but it’s really far away. And you like it here, and—”

“I like you,” Dorcas said, and pushed herself onto her forearms so she could look down at Marlene. “Marls, the question about us was never a debate about you following your dreams and going to college, just like you want. The question lies with me. I don’t know how to pull off following you yet, but I’m working on it.”

Marlene looked up at her and felt tears join the heat within, felt her voice wobble. “I’ll miss you. I want you to be safe, and I want you to be with me.”

Dorcas’ kiss was softer this time. “Me too.”

Marlene enjoyed it for a moment, relief bubbling in her chest, until Dorcas began laughing into her mouth.

“Maybe the boys will find that treasure and give me a piece of it.”

Marlene laughed, too. “God, if that’s our best option…”

They wound tighter together, snuggling down into Marlene’s quilt. Dorcas pressed her forehead against Marlene’s.

“Whatever I can do, I’ll do it,” Dorcas said. “I want you, wherever we are.”

Marlene just kissed her again.

~

Sirius was noisier on the climb than Saint would have liked, but they made it to the slanted roof without trouble, standing on its apex to stare down into the soot-dark.

“Is this really going to work?” Sirius whispered.

“It could.”

“Why not climb the fence? Maybe that door is open.”

“Too loud.”

“Why didn’t you let Logan come with us?”

Saint huffed out an annoyed breath. “Because if this goes wrong, what Finn did was for nothing. If this goes really wrong, at least there would still be one of us on the outside who knows what it looks like inside,” Saint stared out at the trees and bit of coast they could see by moonlight from here. “One of us who doesn’t return every night, that is.”

Saint went down the chimney first, one step at a time. The stones and rusted iron rungs provided easy enough footholds, they just had to hope no one was having a midnight cup of tea when they reached the bottom. He looked up once, blinking through the fine grit of ash that seemed to hang in the air, at Sirius’ face, the silver moonlight like a halo around his dark hair.

And Saint kept climbing down. He went slowly, listening hard. If someone was down there, they’d hear him, and then he’d hear them, and he could scramble back up the chimney and out of sight. Once he was down, however, who knew what they would do to keep him that way. He could practically taste the heavy sleep of Crucio, and his stomach rolled against the images it brought back. The many different families—fathers, siblings, and mothers. So many mothers that he didn’t even know which had been his own anymore.

He hated them for it. He hated them for thinking he wanted that.

Saint’s trembling foot slipped on the last hold and he tumbled out, only barely withholding a cry as the log holders scraped heavily across his side.

“Saint,” came Sirius’ harsh whisper from above him, and Saint waved a hand beneath the flue to show he was okay, then pushed himself up from the now ashy floor, gripping his side.

He knew this room too well. He knew it through the over-active eyes of a five year old. He knew it through the only slightly more alert gaze of his seven year old self.

It was smaller than he remembered. Shabbier than it had seemed then, with its hard couches and children’s books, its desk by the window that still held a letter opener that he had eyed a few times, wondering if he could fight his way out like heroes did in the books he read. Now, he willed all to stay quiet as he walked over and picked up the dull knife. He hated the sight of it.

Sirius came after him, more smartly, landing feet first.

“You could have fucking impaled yourself,” Sirius whispered.

“I didn’t, though,” Saint said, and looked at his ribs. The cuts stung, but the bleeding didn’t look too bad, just enough to dot uneven lines across his t-shirt.

Sirius lifted his shirt to see, and passed a careful thumb near the worst of them, his other a familiar weight on the side of Saint’s neck.

“Let’s go,” Saint whispered.

“Wait,” Sirius said, and turned Saint’s gaze gently to meet his own.

“We don’t have all the time in the world,” Saint began, but Sirius just shook his head, silencing him.

“Listen to me,” Sirius whispered. “All right? Just this once. Just listen to me.”

Saint closed his eyes briefly. “We don’t have time to talk.”

That only succeeded in bringing Sirius’ other hand to his cheek. “If something goes wrong, you just run.” Sirius reached down and took the knife, setting it back on the desk. “Don’t think about me. They can’t keep me.”

“They’ll give you to your parents,” Saint warned.

“I don’t care,” Sirius said. “They can’t keep me. They could try to keep you and I won’t let that happen.”

Saint looked up at Sirius. The only person he could ever remember caring. Saint didn’t like that a side effect of being cared about was caring back, didn’t like that risk…but he liked Sirius.

“You’re leaving anyway,” Saint said. “It doesn’t matter where I am.”

“I never said that and you’re wrong.”

“But you will say it.”

Saint turned away, keeping a hand laced with Sirius’ to pull him towards the dorms. He knew the words sounded accusing and regretful, but he only half meant them that way. Sirius deserved to go.

Sirius didn’t respond. It wasn’t the moment, and they needed to listen for other things.

The dorms came up on their left. Boys to one side of the hall, girls to the other. Saint paused, looking in.

You’ll sleep here with the rest of the boys, Sebastian. Be a good boy and make your bed every morning and you’ll get a treat with breakfast. Chocolate milk, how does that sound?

“Was this you?” Sirius whispered, and Saint shrugged.

“I slept all over this place,” Saint breathed to Sirius. “I’d sneak into the other dorms, the attic, the reading room. I was just…” Saint turned away, unable to stand the softly rising and falling chests of the boys within. “I was just trying to find a place where I felt like myself. Maybe it wasn’t the place, though.”

Maybe it was the dreams. Maybe the drug.

“Maybe it’s just me,” Saint said.

Grimmauld was the closest he had ever gotten, the most settled he’d ever felt. He loved the ocean, and his gold draped vanity, and Sirius always beside him. But there was still—something. A misplaced, tweaked something inside of him that was feeling around in the dark for a comfortable position. Saint didn’t even know what he was looking for, but he did know that it was too dark to find it right now. Sirius had been the first gleam of bright, a pin-prick of a star, a friend, a lover, and a safe place. But stars weren’t a moon or a sun. He needed light to see.

“Let’s go,” Saint said. “This way.”

They walked the halls carefully, listening after nearly every step. Saint knew that the nuns slept at the other end of the house, but that they woke to check in on the children. He couldn’t remember when, though. With the Crucio, his young age, and the late hour, the nights had felt the same and endless. He’d shuffled around like a small ghost, trying to escape the unfamiliar dream-faces. They’d only caught him a few times. A slap on the wrist. Solitary.

That’s why he nearly jumped when they heard the first footsteps. He was seven again, haunting this place and being haunted in return. Saint froze, eyes on the bend in the hallway.

“Here,” Sirius whispered, and together they ducked into a room—the offices, Saint realized—and behind the open wooden door. They huddled together, barely daring to breathe as the footsteps got closer.

“Sirius,” Saint breathed, and didn’t realize he was trembling again until Sirius’ arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Shh,” Sirius hushed him.

The footsteps passed right by them, towards the kitchen, Saint realized, and Sirius pressed Saint against him more tightly, no doubt feeling the dry pants that his breathing had turned into. They would be caught. They would be seen. Saint hid his face in Sirius’ neck.

Don’t be a waste of space, boy. Line up, after number six, come on.

He took up too much space here.

Try that again, Sebastian, and you know what happens.

Saint hated that name. He couldn’t remember who had given him that name. His mother? The nuns? What was a name if it was just a number, too? A way to keep track of him. A way to tell him what he was. Orphan boy. Five. Six. Seven. Abandoned. Good. Bad. Asleep. Awake.

Go to sleep now, there’s a good boy.

The hall was silent again and Saint felt Sirius’ embrace ease, felt his hand running soothingly along his spine.

“I’ve got you,” Sirius said the words so quietly they were barely words at all. “Let’s just go. Let’s get out of here.”

“Finn,” Saint rasped.

Saint looked up and saw the protest in Sirius’ eyes. It was wrong of Logan to make you come here.

“I told him to stay away,” Saint said softly. “I needed to come. I needed to come and get out again.”

Saint needed to get rid of some of this damned dark.

Saint pulled away from Sirius carefully and peaked around the door with a dry swallow before walking over to the cabinets. Records. They weren’t in alphabetical order, though. They were numbered.

Saint fingered his cross, looking towards 1-20.

7.

He traced a finger over a key hole dejectedly, and tried the handle anyway. Locked.

“Saint,” Sirius breathed. “Your mom?”

Saint shook his head, clutching his necklace. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I didn’t know you wanted…”

“I don’t,” Saint snapped. “Let’s get Finn.”

The door to solitary was one that Saint knew well. It was a normal door, and the room beyond was a normal room. It was the memories that made it unbearable to see. Almost every kid Saint had known knew what it meant to be in that room. Alone, the wallpaper flowers withered, the bed turned cold, and the ever-changing family members flickered through your mind without anything to counter it. No reality. There was a glass window with the shade pulled. Saint hesitated for a long moment before lifting it up.

“Finn,” he breathed.

Finn’s red hair was fiery against the white bed spread. He was asleep, and Saint swore he could see Finn’s eyelids flicker from here.

Saint wrapped his fingers carefully around the door. The trick was getting in to see the whole picture.

Everything in Saint Clair felt locked from within. Everything in Saint did, too. It had taken years of wandering around at night for Saint to discover that he could open more doors than he had thought. He was still trying doors eight years alter.

The hinges didn’t so much as squeak, and Saint felt like a ghost again.

“Don’t let this close on me,” Saint whispered to Sirius. His voice shook and just one of his feet just barely breaching the threshold.

Sirius held the frame fast and shook his head, leaning forward to press a steady kiss to Saint’s forehead.

Saint crossed the small room in two slow steps and knelt beside the bed, the motion making the punctures on his torso ache. He pressed a hand to Finn’s cheek and stroked a gentle thumb across the freckles on his skin until Finn stirred.

“Bash,” Finn murmured, eyes barely open.

“Hi, Finn,” Saint said softly and gathered Finn into a sloppy sitting position. “Let’s get you out of here, huh? See if you’re worth all of this fucking trouble.”

“Crucio,” was Finn’s only half-spoken reply. “They make it.”

And then Finn went limp again in Saint’s arms.

~

All Logan could taste was sour guilt, despite the heaven Leo had placed on a plate in front of him not too long ago.

For Saint. For Leo. For the letter and even Luke. For the map. The treasure. The Carrows.

Finn.

His heart ached with the thought of seeing him. Of holding him.

“Why weren’t we allowed to go with him?” Logan asked Leo for what he knew was the tenth time, but he couldn’t help it. “I asked him to help me, not go for me.”

“It’s easier to get one person in and out than two?” Leo said. He was puttering around the small kitchen, had been for the last hour, and the entire house smelled like sugar and cinnamon now, replacing the herbs, lemon, and chicken. He didn’t look at Logan when he said it.

He hadn’t looked at Logan much at all since the night at the museum.

Logan watched him taste a bit of what looked like frosting and wet his lips.

“Are you mad at me?” Logan whispered.

Leo’s restless hands paused. Logan watched his chest rise and fall once.

“I’m not mad,” Leo said finally. The heat of the oven had fluffed out his hair. “I mean, I’m not sure if we reached a dead-end or not…and you could have told me you were going to do that. I said I would help you, didn’t I?”

“I needed Ba—Saint,” Logan replied. “But I also…I should have told you. And I shouldn’t have made Saint go. I just want…he’s my family. Finn is my…”

“I understand why you did it,” Leo cut in softly. “I probably would have done worse if I thought that there was something that could save my dad.”

That just made Logan feel even smaller, sitting at the table. Leo glanced at him, gave him a tight smile, then went to the sink and began scrubbing dishes.

“Hey,” Logan said, then rose and strode over to Leo. “Hey, let me clean up.”

“I just need something to do,” Leo said shortly.

“Me, too.”

They stood, their shoulders pressed together. Logan washed. Leo dried. He slipped cinnamon rolls into the oven and then returned. They kept close to each other at the sink and it felt…so normal. Like a home. Leo felt like a home.

“I never really thanked you properly,” Logan said into the now more comfortable silence. “For letting me stay with you. And—I just want to say, and now with Finn…I understand if you want us to leave. I mean, three’s a crowd.”

“You’re welcome here,” Leo said quickly. Logan watched his throat bob. He was looking away again. “You should do what feels best for you, but you’re both welcome here. Just—”

Leo paused, and Logan found himself suddenly desperate to hear what he had to say. He knew he hadn’t been friendly all the time. He knew he’d been selfish. Leo had been nothing but kind. He was funny and warm, teaching Logan how to weld two pieces of metal, talking about the latest book he was reading while he whisked batter and handed Logan different new recipes he was trying out.

Finn would like Leo, Logan thought, and glanced towards the door. Maybe he was about to find out.

“Never mind,” Leo said, and flashed a smile.

Logan went to protest, but then his phone began buzzing madly on the table and he all but lunged for it.

~

Luke stared down at his father’s handwriting.

Luke, it began. And then there was a name.

Pascal Dumais.

There was no mention of himself. There was nothing. Luke had thought this would make him feel better, make it easier. Only, now, he was frustrated to the point of tears. He couldn’t seem to ease the lump that was lodged in his throat. He clutched the paper in his fingers hard enough to tear, willing something else to appear on it. He thought of Felix.

“Well?” said a voice from his window.

“Oh—” Luke flinched, surprised, then cursed at Saint, who was stretched out on his window sill. “Come on. Are you kidding me?”

Saint’s mouth twitched up in a smile, but it was strained. He was sitting awkwardly, tense rather than his usual languid posture.

“What’s wrong with you?” Luke asked hesitantly, trying to discreetly wipe at his face.

“What isn’t?”

Luke spotted the blood between Saint’s fingers and rose. “You’re hurt.”

“I fell down a chimney.”

“Is that a joke?”

“No.”

Luke blinked. “That’s how you got into Saint Clair? And you climbed to my window?”

Saint pulled himself all the way through the window with a soft groan and Luke walked forward, hands hovering near Saint’s shoulders, unsure if he should help.

“The orphan?” he asked instead, then at Saint’s sharp look, “Finn?”

“Sirius is bringing him to Grimmauld.”

“What’s Grimmauld?”

Saint sat down heavily in Luke’s desk chair, hand still pressed to his side. He had what looked like soot on his hands and face. “A place.” He picked up a book. Jane Eyre. “Didn’t take you for a romantic.”

“You’re bleeding all over my room.”

“Lucky you.”

Luke tucked the note into the pocket of his shorts. “Fuck—come here. Jesus.”

He walked into his bathroom and jammed the light switch up, looking back when Saint didn’t follow him. “Come here.”

Saint rose, still holding the book. “I am coming!” Saint quoted, head tilted in a way that made his neck look long. “Wait for me! Oh, I will come!”

“Very funny,” Luke sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a reader.”

“Why?” Saint said as he stepped out of the darkness of the bedroom and into the yellow-lighted bathroom. His brown eyes took on the soft yellow, too, and he leaned forward as he pushed himself up onto the counter carefully. “Because I don’t buy my books and,” Saint looked down at the book, flipping through it. “Write all over them like you do?”

“Because you didn’t go to school,” Luke said with a raised eyebrow as he ducked for the first aid kit beneath his sink. It was good to have one near during the lacrosse season—or it used to be.

Saint rolled his eyes. “You Gods and your single paths in life. You’re all stupid.”

“Then why are you here?” Luke asked as he unlatched the kit.

“Because this is the last place anyone would look for me,” Saint replied. “And you’re mean.”

“Mean? Are we in seventh grade?” Luke scoffed as he wet a towel in the sink. “I don’t know if it’s healthy to want to be around people who you think are mean to you."

“I just don’t want to talk about it,” Saint said. “And that’s all Sirius will want to do. And I don’t want to. And we don’t have this shit at Grimmauld.”

“Is that where you live?”

Saint just set the book down and reached behind himself to tug his shirt over his head. Luke tried not to stare at Saint’s smooth, light brown skin. He swallowed, busying himself with the bandages and the wet towel again.

“For all the breaking into places you do, maybe you should invest in some band-aids,” Luke said, and glanced down at the finely woven muscle on Saint’s ribs, at the red edges of the slashes. “If you flinch too much, you’re doing this yourself.”

Saint smiled. “Mean.”

“Fuck off,” Luke said, out of reflex, and then pressed his lips together. Saint laughed and then hissed as Luke pressed the towel to the cut.

They were close like this, Luke leaned in to dab the blood away, and then dot it with disinfectant, all while Saint’s muscles jumped beneath the palm he had steadied low on his belly. He could feel Saint watching him, and remembered waking up to those eyes. Saint’s hand in his hair.

“How did you do it?” Luke said into the small space between them. “Get in and out.”

“The chimney.”

So, he was serious.

“What did the letter say?” Saint asked.

Luke glanced up at him warily, but wiped a hand on his shorts before fishing the letter out of his pocket and handing it over. “Do you know who that is?”

Saint read it quietly, and then met Luke’s eyes. Luke was stuck there, pinned like a tack in a map, marking the place to be.

“Yes,” Saint said, and smiled brightly. “I know exactly who this is.”

[blue-fidelity]

~ “Smile in the face of Tragedy”

Chapter 2: New King

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x Henderson!reader, Steve Harrington x best friend! reader

Chapter Summary:

A wild night reveals secrets and broken hearts. At least Billy & (Y/N) have each other.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, drunk!Billy, sad!Steve (that is a warning 🥺)

“(Y/N)! It’s Halloween!”- Halloween? (Y/N) woke up to the sound of her brother yelling excitingly. If she wasn’t mistaken, she could hear the Ghostbusters theme playing loudly from Dustin’s room. She groaned, burying her head in her pillows while running her hands through her hair.

This is not how she planned to wake up this morning.

Before closing her eyes to regain a little more sleep, her alarm clock looked her right in the face. 7:15. Another groan came from her. Perk up (Y/N), it’s your favourite holiday! She pushed herself up, swinging her legs on the side of the bed. (Y/N) definitely knew the high school students weren’t going to be wearing costumes to school. So before Billy picked her up, she’d head home to get changed.

Billy- (Y/N) didn’t think she’d be able to forget yesterday. The way he held her, the way he kissed her forehead. His embrace was so comforting- she nearly melted into him. The smell of dry cigarette smoke and cheap cologne haven’t been able to leave her senses. It was like everything that came with him, it was intoxicating, and she couldn’t get enough of it.

As she stepped out of bed, she moved her hips slightly to the music coming from her brother’s stereo. When she made it to her drawers, she contemplated what she should wear today. Just because she wasn’t going to wear a costume, didn’t mean she couldn’t look spooky, right? She grabbed her “Chistine” t-shirt, it was one of her favorite horror movies. Pairing it with a black acid wash skirt, some fishnets, and her usual chuck taylors, she strutted confidently out her bedroom door.

She walked into the bathroom to find Dustin clad in his Stantz costume, brushing his teeth. He looked so cute! “Hey Doctor Stantz, ‘lookin pretty badass”, she grinned, patting him on the back. “Thanks (Y/N)! I can’t wait to see the guys in their costumes, Halloween’s gonna be so great!”, he cheered, spitting out his tooth paste. He quickly ran out of the room to fetch breakfast, leaving (Y/N) time for her hair & makeup.

Bright red lipstick and heavy black eyeliner, hair slightly curled.

-

When she stepped into the living room, she saw her mom enthusiastically taking polaroids of Dustin. She couldn’t help but smile, hoping her mom would save her some for her picture board. (Y/N) sat on the couch beside her cat Mews, scratching the back of his ears as he purred in contentment. She giggled at the various poses her brother made in front of the camera.

Her mom had finally stopped taking photos, noticing her on the couch. “(Y/N) darling! I didn’t see you come in, can I get a photo of my two children?”, she questioned, looking at her with pleading eyes. (Y/N) couldn’t say no! “Of course!”, she said, standing up from the couch.

She placed an arm around Dustin’s shoulders, teasingly taking him in a headlock, rubbing her nuckles on his hair. To this he laughed, playfully pointing his fake proton blaster at her. It was the perfect picture. Perfectly trapped in the moment of two great siblings, simply having a good time.

(Y/N) gathered her things, making sure to take one of her mom’s homemade muffins for breakfast. She had made them a couple days before, but they still were delicious. Even though (Y/N) desperately needed coffee, she decided against it. She was already running a bit late, and as much as she hated the stale stuff from the cafeteria, it’d have to do. Dustin had already slipped out the door to head off on his bike, he really must’ve been eager to see his friends.

Before making her way to her motorcycle, she slipped her jean jacket on and hugged her mom goodbye. Claudia looked at her intently, ruffling her curled hair. (Y/N) rolled her eyes playfully, “Alright mom, I gotta go! ‘I’m gonna stop here after school though, k?”, she opened the front door. “Okay have a good day sweetie! ‘I’ll see you before your party!”. (Y/N)’s mom knew about the party, whether she knew there was going to be alcohol involved, it was better off not knowing.

Sliding the keys into the ignition, she sped off to the school. She could never get enough of the mysterious backroads of Hawkins. It scared her, obviously. With all the things that happened the previous year, she couldn't help but wonder if things still lurked in the depths of the forest, hiding till they could strike. Waiting and waiting till they can catch someone else and drag them to that horrible place. Her body trembled at the thought of it. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the memories. Eyes turning back to the road, she removed one of her hands from the handles, trying to reach for the button of her stereo. It had turned onto some random radio station that was playing Halloween tunes.

“Happy Halloween ‘Morning Ghouls and Goblins of Hawkins! Here’s a spooky throwback from ‘1982 for y’all on this fine dreary morning, ‘Blood Bitch’, by Cocteau Twins!” - the radio host introduced, was he really supposed to swear on radio? Well, no one really had a filter these days.

The song added to the eerie atmosphere of the cold morning, making her uneasy. She pushed through her thoughts, trying to just focus on getting to school. It was Halloween! No need for being pent up on past trauma. The station had eventually turned to a happier song, putting her in a better mood. What better to put a smile on your face then the ‘Time Warp” from The Rocky Horror Picture Show? She bobbed her head happily to the familiar tune, singing along to the lyrics.

-

School today had been an absolute drag! Last period (math) was nearly done and (Y/N) was desperate to get out. She could see some of her mutuals were anxious as well, probably too excited to wait for the party tonight. She was excited as well, maybe a little bit of the fact that she’d be spending more time with Billy?

(Y/N) would hate for him to think she’d be using him as a rebound. Even though it seemed that way, she really should’ve forgotten about her feelings for Steve awhile ago. (Y/N) really loved Steve, but he’d always been so oblivious, but- that was just Steve. He would’ve never known of her feelings if she didn’t tell him. Which she never did, in fear of obvious rejection. Then here was Billy Hargrove, whether it be his flirtatious nature, she could see herself really falling for him. The one thing she knew she wouldn’t do was dive in too quickly. She wouldn’t make the same mistakes, for her and for Billy’s sake.

She was finally released from the rechedouness that was her math class-running straight out the door right as the bell rang, nearly having winded Mr. Henry. After taking a quick stop at her locker, she walked outside to find her motorcycle. (Y/N) was nearly there till a skateboard hit her feet, stopping her in her tracks.

“I’m so sorry! It slipped right out from under me-” a voice of a young girl called, her breath shaky. (Y/N) looked down at the girl shuffling to grab her skateboard, she had never seen her before. The mysterious teen with the red hair looked around her brother’s age, so why was she so unrecognizable? Wait- could it be?

Billy’s step sister.

“Hey, hey it’s all good!”, (Y/N) gave her a reassuring smile. “Hey- not to sound weird or anything-”, she chuckled nervously, “But, are you new here? ‘You see I got a younger brother ‘about your age, and you got an unfamiliar face”. The girl stared at her skeptically, but still replied. “Yeah, just moved here from ‘California, what are you ‘looking to set him up or something?” she questioned sarcastically. ‘Damn she was quite the firecracker. “Nah frankly I think you're a little out of his league”, (Y/N) winked. To this she got a laugh out of her. “Well, it was nice weirdly meeting you, ‘I’m Max!”, she introduced herself. “Well Max, ‘I’m (Y/N), if you're interested in someone helping you out with that kickflip, ‘I used to do some skateboarding myself”, she offered. Max beamed at her offer, “Really? That’d be so great!”, “Alrighty then, if you see me around, don’t be shy to ask!”.

Little did (Y/N) and Max know, Billy was watching them. Billy knew (Y/N) was genuinely kind, but not that kind. It wasn’t necessarily cool to be seen with a middle schooler. He figured he wouldn’t look too much into it, but something about seeing (Y/N) with her, didn’t sit well with him. Billy gave Max a dirty look as she skated up to the camaro. “You're late again”, Billy started. “I had to get catchup homework”, Max stated. “Jesus! I don’t care- who was that girl you were talking to?”, Billy asked, even though he already knew who she was. “Just some high schooler- she offered to help me learn some skateboarding tricks' '. So she skateboarded too, huh? “That’s rich. Just, get in the car, will yah?”.

-

(Y/N) entered the door with a ‘skip in her step. She really needed a reason to lose herself, forget about the world around her. Tonight was going to be perfect for that. Expecting to be greeted by her mom, she noticed no one was there. She knew Dustin was heading to Mike’s right after school, ‘but her mom was nowhere to be seen. She probably had to work later hours again. ‘This meant she had the place to herself! (Y/N) still had a few hours before Billy picked her up. So she figured she’d get into her costume, and then fix herself something to eat.

The Sarah Connor costume was simple. Gray tank top, black jeans, sunglasses, a chunky belt and combat boots. (Y/N) already had all of this in her regular wardrobe, so it’d be a pretty easy costume. Of course she didn’t have a rifle to complete it, even though she could’ve asked Nance. She wasn’t about to show up to a house party with a gun. It would have been pretty cool though.

She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, clad in costume. Now it was time to remove her makeup and untame her curled hair. “Mr. Crowley” by Ozzy Osbourne was currently spinning on her “Blizzard of Ozz” vinyl. She mouthed her lips to the lyrics as she straightened her hair, her (Y/H/C) locks falling in straight whisps on her head. Replacing her once extravagant makeup with a more nude look, she looked at herself pleased.

A total badass look, you might say.

It was only 4:30, and Billy was coming over at 6 o’clock. She had way too much time to kill. Making her way to the kitchen, she scoped the fridge. Enough ground beef for two burgers, and she knew they had leftover buns. Maybe Billy would be hungry when he got there, and if she was making dinner for two- she didn’t want to start too early. So she’d head back to it in about a half an hour. Meanwhile a coca-cola would hold her down, she was pretty firsty.

(Y/N) now laid in her bed, bored. ‘Blizzard of Ozz was still playing, it just switched onto “Steal Away (The Night)”, her ears perked up to the upbeat tune. She couldn’t help but dance around, hopping happily on her bed as she belted the lyrics along with Ozzy. Pointing at the poster of him that was plastered on her wall, she shouted the chorus. It’d be pretty funny if Billy were to walk in on her singing her heart out, what would he think of that? She rolled her eyes at the thought, he’d probably think she was crazy. The song ended, turning to the next one. (Y/N) took this as her cue to start on dinner.

Flipping the patties in the pan, she sighed at the smell. She did cook a pretty ‘mean burger. Dustin loved when she made them, he always said the added rosemary was the perfect touch. (Y/N) grew up with her mother teaching her how to cook. Claudia Henderson had worked in a number of restaurants, usually in the kitchen or as a waitress. She now helped run a popular Inn a little outside of town, and it was her favourite place she’s ever worked in. (Y/N) probably figured it was a busy night, considering she didn’t come home at her usual hour.

5:45 and the burgers were ready and plated, the aroma running through the room. Billy was ‘going to be here soon, and she was giddy with excitement. Before she knew it, the bell rang. Fuck he was early. “Coming!” she called, slowly making her way to the door. ‘There he stood; a cocky grin on his face with his arm propped up on the door ledge. She took time to take in his minimal outfit, tight jeans & a leather jacket, no shirt. His abbs were on full display- (Y/N)’s mouth watered just at the sight of him. “See something you like, sweetheart?” he smirked. “Maybe-”, (Y/N) stammered. “It’s aight, I see something I like to,'' he whispered the last part into her ear, letting himself in.

“She cooks too? ‘I guess looks can be deceiving”, he motioned to the burgers. (Y/N) blushed, “I figured we could eat before we fill ourselves with alcohol”. They delved into the burgers, she couldn’t help but laugh when Billy moaned at the taste. “Darlin- I haven’t had a burger like this in awhile, ‘the ones down at Benny’s don’t hold anything on these”, he praised. “That must be a high compliment, because ‘Benny’s are pretty good”, she smiled at him. (Y/N) put the dishes into the dishwasher, quickly running to her room to grab her polaroid camera. “Where are you ‘heading princess?”, she’d never get tired of his little pet names. “I’m just grabbing my camera- I want to get some good shots tonight!”.

(Y/N) came back with her camera bag, a big grin on her face. “You ready to head out?”, he questioned. “Yeah, just let me get my jacket”, she took her jacket from the hook. “Ready”. He guided her to the camaro, opening the passenger door. Billy never opened the passenger door for girls! ‘(Y/N) really did something to him, huh? “Such the gentlemen”, she smirked. “Anything for you dollface”. He slid into the drivers side, placing his keys into the ignition. “Music?” she questioned, “Sure thing, feel free to look through the cassettes in the glove box”. She searched through the assortment of tapes, varying from Metallica, Def Leppard, RATT, Mötley Crüe, Hanoi Rocks, AC/DC and more. She settled on Hanoi Rocks’s, “Two Steps From The Move” album. It had just come out that summer, and it was one of her favourites. Not to mention she had a HUGE crush on Michael Monroe.

“Hanoi Rocks huh? I like your style”, he nodded in approval, till turning his eyes back on the road. “Got any specific fave tracks?”, (Y/N) questioned. “Track 8”. She was surprised he chose this one, considering it was one of the more “cheesy” songs. ‘It did have a pretty ‘rockin guitar riff in it though, she’ll give him that. Billy contentedly thumped his hands on the steering wheel, speeding up a bit. Rolling both of their windows down, (Y/N) was surprised to see him singing along to the lyrics. It was a bad attempt at a Finnish accent, sure, but it was still really cute. (Y/N) joined him, jumping in at the chorus. They banged their heads to the tune, continuously singing the lines. (Y/N) really felt alive in that moment. ‘She couldn’t remember the last time she had this much fun, and they haven’t even gotten to the party yet.

-

They pulled up to Tina’s, teens were already rallying in. ‘It was going to be a wild night. Before Billy could open up his trunk to get the kegs, (Y/N) stopped him. She pulled out her camera, “Hargrove! Smile!”, she grinned, pointing the camera at him. ‘He rolled his eyes, posing for the picture. The photo was of Billy playfully doing the devil’s horns symbol, with his tongue stuck out. She giggled, “This is one for the board!”. “Well Hey Sarrah Conner- let me take a pic of you!”, he said, trying to grab the camera from her. She handed the camera to him, smiling that he remembered her costume name. Letting her sunglasses shade her eyes, ‘she smirked brightly at the camera, ‘Billy quickly snapping the shot. He handed the polaroid to her, she shaked it and placed it in her bag with the one she took.

Billy held one of the kegs while (Y/N) grabbed the other, walking into the crowded house. It was overwhelmingly loud. They could feel the heat coming off the numerous teenagers that littered the home, their bodies moving to the heavy beats of the stereo. Tina was in the kitchen, and had noticed the pair walk in. “Billy & (Y/N) are here with more kegs!”, she shouted, ‘causing the crowd to go wild. Someone had taken the one from her hands and motioned Billy to follow them into the backyard, leaving her alone. She grazed over the sea of teens, trying to spot anyone she knew. She noticed Steve and Nancy dancing freely in the living room, Nancy nursing a drink while Steve had a big smile on his face. She figured she’d grab some punch and then see what Billy was doing in the backyard, most likely a keg stand. He was the new ‘king after all, Tommy was probably expecting him to beat Steve’s record.

‘As luck would have it, she was right. She stood on the back porch with a cup of “pure fuel” in her hands, watching the teens crowd around him as he bent over the keg. They shouted various numbers, counting the seconds as he chugged down the beer. (Y/N) cheered with them, looking at him with bright eyes. His torso was glistening, beads of sweat running down his toned chest. Her cheeks flushed red just at the sight of him. The enthusiasm got louder as he finished the stand, spitting spews of beer out of his mouth. “That’s how you do it Hawkins! That’s how you do it!”, more cheers. Tommy passed him a cigarette and escorted him into the house, the gang shouting his name as Mötley Crüe’s, “Shout At The Devil” played on the speakers. Billy spotted her on the porch, grinning wildly at her. He shoved her into his side with his arm, hugging her tight. Tommy glared at the interaction. Never in her time with being friends with Steve has ‘Tommy liked her that much, and it seems things haven’t changed.

Typical Tommy.

(Y/N) was enjoying the feel of Billy's embrace a little too much. She knew he was already partially drunk, and she was feeling a nice buzz that she wasn’t planning on getting rid of anytime soon. Someone had to drive them home. ‘Tommy paraded them up to Nancy and Steve, (Y/N) wasn’t sure if it was to torchure her or show off Billy, probably both. ‘Billy and Steve stared each other down as if they were going to kill each other, it was really intense. Too intense for her liking. Still hooded under Billy’s arm, she shot Steve a sympathetic look. ‘As if to say ‘I’m sorry’ with her eyes. “We got ourselves a new keg king Harrington!”, Tommy declared. “Yeah eat it Harrington!”, another guy shouted. Somehow in ‘Billy and Steve’s stare down, Nancy had slipped away.

“You see Harrington- not only that, but I stole your girl away too”, Billy retorted. Oh shit- this wasn’t good. Steve glanced over at her, a nervous look in his eyes. “I don’t know what you're talking about man-”. How did Billy know about (Y/N)’s past feelings for Steve? “Well you see, this lovely lady under my arms thought the world of you, and frankly I- I just don’t see why! Point being, she has me now, you can go fetch that slut you settled for.” This interaction was making neither Steve nor (Y/N) happy, it left them feeling both angry and confused. Steve scoffed, chasing after Nancy. He was going to want to talk to (Y/N) about this later.

Steve really didn’t know what to make of what Billy had said to him. Mainly, it sounded like a warning; but he didn’t think Billy intended for it to be that. (Y/N) and him had been best friends forever, and even if he didn’t necessarily like Billy, there was no harm in her being friends with him, right? Though, something about what Billy said hinted that he meant more than just friends. Had (Y/N) liked him, loved him even? Was Steve really oblivious all these years- no, it couldn’t be. If he was being honest, he harboured a small crush on her in the beginning of middle school, but then Nancy came into his life. Nancy Wheeler hit him like a freight train right in the heart, and he then became a lovesick puppy. He couldn’t get enough of her. That’s when Steve began to realize, the jealous glances over the years, the slight distaste of Nancy that came off her.

But, why did it matter if (Y/N) loved him? He still had Nancy, or so he thought.

-

Tommy had left, leaving Billy and (Y/N) in the corner of the living room, an uncomfortable silence stirring between them. “Billy-how did you-“, she wondered in a whisper, but Billy cut her off. “You really don’t think Tommy would’ve told me? Besides, everybody knows”. She didn’t need to hear the last part. Besides, why did it matter if everyone knew- it didn’t matter to her anymore. “Does that bother you?”, she asked worriedly. Billy chuckled darkly.

“Darlin- you got nothing to worry about, I’m your new king now”.

Next thing she knew, they were on the dance floor. Billy had pulled her into the crowd of sweaty bodies, grinding on each other. Some people were making out, others chugging alcohol till they fell limp to the floor. She stared nervously at the rowdy teens, her body shaking. He noticed her agitation, placing a hand on her cheek, turning her to face him. He smelt of cheap beer and stale cigarette smoke, and a hint of cologne. She was caught with that intoxicating sensation again, making her hazy. His icy blue eyes peered into her (Y/E/C) ones, “Just feel the music princess- everything will be just fine”.

‘Their bodies moved comfortably against each other to ‘Billy Idol’s, “Flesh For Fantasy”. A perfect song choice in the moment. ‘(Y/N) was very much sober and very much aware of what was happening. Aware of Billy’s strong grip on her waist, aware of his hips moving against hers. Normally this would’ve been cutting close corners for her, but she was looking for an opportunity to lose herself. What better way than this? She ran her fingers through his thick blonde curls, her hips swaying a bit more. He sighed in contentment, making her shiver. His face was currently buried into her neck, placing soft kisses on her collarbone.

They continued their heavy sway for a while, Billy had started to form a hickey below her ear. She was definitely not going to be able to cover it up tomorrow, but she really didn’t care if people saw it- she wanted people to know that she wasn’t desperate. That she didn’t need Steve anymore. She wasn’t exactly sure what she meant to ‘Hargrove, but she knew that she wasn’t planning on leaving him anytime soon. (Y/N) felt him remove his lips from her neck, his hot breath waving over her. “Mhmm- left a pretty big mark sweetheart-“ he mumbled. She hummed in return, removing her hands from his hair.

The rest of the night consisted of more dancing, and Billy getting more intoxicated than he was before. Really drunk Billy- let’s just say it was quite the sight to see. He was a giggling mess, slurring his words and stumbling on his feet. “(Y/N)- has anyone ever told you-“ he hiccuped, “That you were gorgeous?”, another hiccup. She giggled at his comment, “Tons of people- but I bet no one sees me like you do huh?”, she supported him up against the kitchen counter. “Absolutely no one!” He cheered in a high pitch voice, damn he really was a mess. She tried to wrap his arm around her shoulders snatching his keys.”Hey- what are you doing?”, he gestured to the keys, “Getting you home-“, “Wait! Can we go to your house please?? I can’t wake up my dad letting him see me like this- he’ll kill me”, he pleaded. “Fine- just, try to be as quiet as possible, I got a sleeping family too”.

(Y/N) took him out of the house, nearly carrying him. She waved goodbye to a few mutual friends who were still conscious, muttering a soft “See y’all tomorrow, hope we aren’t all hungover”. This earned a few laughs from her classmates, bidding her and Billy a goodnight. Unlocking the passenger side to the camaro, she set Billy down lightly on the seat. “Being so ginger with me sweetheart- I’m not made of glass ‘you know”, he joked. “Whatever tough guy- let’s just get you to a bed, mhm?”. Placing her hands on the steering wheel, she realized she hasn’t driven a car since the summer, and a camaro is definitely nothing close to a station wagon. She took a deep breath- she could do this, no sweat. Besides, there was no way she could bring herself to ruin a car as beautiful as this one.

Billy must’ve passed out while they were driving, because when she pulled into her driveway, his eyes were sewn shut. She had to admit- he did look pretty adorable when he was sleeping. She tried to resist the urge to take a photo of him, but she couldn’t help herself. Pulling out her camera bag that was littered with pictures from tonight, she snapped a quick photo of him. The flash startled him, waking him up. “Sweetheart- were you taking photos of me in my sleep? That’s just creepy”, his voice was groggy. “How could I not when you were laying there looking like an angel?”, “Pfft- ‘darlin, I am a demon, Satan himself! ‘Ain’t no way I’m an angel!”, he scoffed.

“Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but Lucifer was once an angel”.

Fumbling with the keys to her front door while trying to help Billy regain his footing was hard. He was just about to lose consciousness again when she finally got the door open, it shouldn't have been as much of a challenge as it was- but Billy had a lot of weight to him. She didn’t notice the lights were still on till she saw her mom sitting in her reading chair, Mews on her lap and clad in a cat costume. Shit- what was she gonna say about this? “Oh! Mrs. Henderson- I see where (Y/N) gets all her good looks from!”, Billy squealed, “Ugh can it Billy! Mom I can explain-“ she shushed Billy, staring wide eyed at her mother. “Sweetie- you clearly had a wild night, just take this pound of muscle to your room, and we can talk about it while he crashes, okay?”- (Y/N) nodded quickly, dragging Billy to her room.

Billy flopped down on the bed, giggling wildly. “Honey! We’ve known each other for two days, don’t you think we ‘oughta know one another better before I sleep in your bed?”, (Y/N) rolled her eyes at the blubbering idiot. “This was your idea dumby! Just get under the covers and keep it shut, will you?”, she glared at him, closing the door and heading back to the living room.

“So no Steve, huh? He’s the one who usually spends the night”, her mom said softly. “Different reasons mom- I’m just trying to figure out who’s a bigger piece of work”, she huffed. “Well he’s quite the looker, ‘makes me wonder how you keep up with him”, Claudia smirked. “Mom! He’s new here- he just happened to notice me first”, (Y/N) blushed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Besides- what are you doing up so late?”, (Y/N) stared at the clock, “It’s nearly 1 o’clock”. “Busy night down at the Inn, just needed a little time to myself after Dusty went to bed”, she sighed, but (Y/N) knew she wasn’t finished. “Also wanted to see what mess you brung home, it’s always a new thing with you”, her mom laughed. “Billy’s- interesting, but I’m not sure, doesn’t seem like the most faithful type”, she sighed. “He may surprise you, and besides- if he hurts you he’ll have to suffer the wrath of your brother!”, Claudia giggled, smiling at her daughter. “Anyways- I’m gonna head to bed, early day at work tomorrow, you gonna go join the guy?”, she pointed down the hall. “Yeah yeah I’ll join the idiot in a second- just gonna get some water”, (Y/N) said tiredly.

Snuggling up on the couch, she sipped her water. The quietness was calming, the fact that everyone was at rest and she was the only one around southend her in a way. The fact that Billy was sleeping soundly in her bed, gave her a different feeling. Things with him- had gone by so quickly, and it was only just beginning. It was nice being with someone where the relationship had lasted longer than more than a few hours. Her past flames- had simply been one night stands, meaningless things to shy her away from Steve, but Billy was different. She actually liked him, and even though he came off as a jerk- he seemed really sweet on the inside. Though, she couldn’t help but wonder how Steve was feeling right now, the bomb had been dropped on him nearly two hours ago- it must be overwhelming to know your best friend was holding back feelings for so many years.

(Y/N) was just about to head to bed, till she heard a knock on the door. Who was here at this time of night? She opened the door slightly, and who she saw she didn’t expect. There Steve stood, his face red and puffy with tears in his eyes. His body was shaking, his shoulders were slumped over. He looked awful. “She- doesn’t love me- it’s bullshit! It was all bullshit!” He stuttered as his body continued to quiver. (Y/N)’s heart ached at his words, what had Nancy done this time? She didn’t know what to say, it’s not like she could’ve let him in. So, she just pulled him into a hug, “Steve-you can’t keep coming here like this- it’s not my job to fix you”, she tried to explain. “I know! I just don’t have anywhere else to go”, he cried. “I can’t tonight- it just isn’t the right time.” (Y/N) was attempting to tell him in the best way possible that Billy wasn’t there, but Steve caught on. “He’s here, isn’t he, Billy?”, Steve muttered angrily. “Out of all the guys in Hawkins- you chose him to get over me, that’s just flattering!” . Steve was making her feel sick, “Steve- I know you're hurting but you can’t take it out on me like that- it isn’t fair”, she pushed away from him. “I’ll talk about this with you tomorrow- when you're in the right state of mind, okay? Just please leave”, she pleaded. “Fine- I’ll see you tomorrow”, he breathed out harshly, walking back to his car.

She was on the edge of a breakdown, heart racing and choked up tears running down her face. This is not how she expected her evening to end- seeing Steve like that, broken and beaten again. (Y/N) thought she’d never live to see Steve crumble in her arms one more time- and with that she could’ve rested easy. At least she wouldn’t have to be alone tonight, she had someone waiting for her. Trying to stay quiet, she tiptoed down the hall. Opening the door, she walked in to see Billy sleeping soundly, the pink hue of her bedside lamp illuminating his features. She took notice of his leather jacket, jeans and boots scattered on the ground. That meant he was only in his boxers. Before joining him she slipped into an oversized AC/DC t-shirt and looked in the mirror, her hands grazing over the purple mark that had formed on her neck- the little bastard.

When (Y/N) laid in bed, even in his sleepy state Billy could notice the slight dip in the mattress. He groaned, “What took you so long…?”. (Y/N) chuckled softly at his tiredness. “Just an unexpected visitor, nothing to worry about”, she smiled reassuringly. “Well as long as you're okay, that’s all that matters”, he kissed her temple, pulling her into his chest. She snuggled into his side, sighing contentedly. She needed this. “Thank you”, she mumbled mindlessly. “For what sweetheart?”.

“For helping me start fresh”.

The couple held each other comfortably, sleep taking over them. (Y/N) rested her head on Billy’s torso, as he lazily made circles on the small of her back. Everything was blissful in that moment. Perfect. She’d deal with Steve tomorrow, for now, she had Billy Hargrove. Billy Hargrove with his strong hold and warm comforting body, Billy Hargrove who made her feel safe.

Author’s note:

Hope you all love the second chapter! Feedback is always appreciated & as always if you want to be added to the taglist comment down below ❤️!

Tag-list: @theblueslytherin @oopsiedoopsie23 @lulu-yuming @merc12-us @soullesstaco @unded-bride @holychocopie @nikkixostan @ellesimagines

[harringtonstudios]

best friend’s ex. (II)

plot: he’s your best friend’s ex and you should stay away, but it seems impossible.

A/N: i’m weak for this au what can i say.... hope everyone’s staying safe and enjoying the new songs!! pls give me feedback it fuels me on <3

masterlist!  part I.

Waking up to an warm arm wrapping tightly around your side isn’t normal. In far, it’s so far out of your daily routine, that for a second, you close your eyes again, will yourself to actually get up from the diluted dreamscape you seem to be in.

The same sight greets you the second time around, tuft of blonde hair resting on your chest on top of the white blanket that covers you both. There’s a head attached and it takes you a minute to place everything together before you feel yourself dry swallowing.

The Sahara Desert resides in your mouth, lines up on your tongue and you close your lips together at the uncomfortable feeling of a hangover crawling around you.

Colson Baker.

He’s still asleep, you can tell by the slow rise and fall of his body where it lies basically attached to yours. Why his head is tucked right under your chin, you can’t really explain, just like you can’t quite figure out why you’ve let this happen.

Attempting to shift a little, you hear a soft sound fall out from his lips, see his head move against the haven it rests on. Your chest feels heavy, not just cause of his added weight, but the intent behind it.

The sunlight in his room is filtering through the cracks between his dark curtains. You follow the trail of golden as it creeps over his wooden floor, tilts into the grooves of his floorboards, slides up the white walls.

It’s probably been a minute since you’ve been up, maybe two, but it feels like forever, stuck in this awful limbo.

Your phone starts ringing, tinny and harsh against the beacon of peace you’ve built up for yourself. It startles you enough that you automatically reach out to your side, only to meet empty space. This isn’t your bedroom, the table by your head isn’t there, and you have no idea where your phone is.

The ringtone does enough to wake Colson up. He grunts out something before shifting completely off of you, collapsing back into the mattress. His head is still lower than the various pillows on his bed, but he seems content, face relaxed against the sheets.

You take it in for a millisecond, trace your eyes over his parted pink lips, the faint hint of a scar prepped up between his eyebrows, the flutter of his lashes. 

Not yours, the warning sign shouts. Get away.

Your phone is still ringing when you slide off of his bed, wearing nothing, hastily wrapping the blanket around yourself. He shifts on the bed again, and you watch the way his hand reaches out, down to pull at something that isn’t even there. Your chest tightens again, but he’s just mumbling, sleep dazed and his eyes don’t open.

When you reach your phone, somehow it’s ended up across the room, hidden under your jeans from last night, you’ve had five missed calls.

Domi’s name flashes on your screen, followed by a battery warning and you hiss at the predicament you’ve put yourself in. You quickly text her, a simple: Safe. Will be home soon, with someone.

You don’t specify it past that, try to leave it as open-ended as you can. She’s going to dig, claw her way to the truth, but for now, there’s other things to worry about.

There’s a charger plugged next to his bed and you move over, still clutching his blanket as you bend down to attach your phone to it, satisfied as it slightly buzzes, muttering out “Fuck yeah.”

“Good morning to you too,” replies Colson, his voice deeper, twinged with hours of sleep and the lingering effects of vodka.

You straighten up, awkwardly smile at him, feeling very warm trapped between his feather downs. He smiles back, but lets his fingers rub at closing eyes.

“Where are my clothes?” he asks. It’s only then that you actually look at him fully in bed. He’s just as naked as you, bare and on display and you blush at his lack of modesty. It’s not unusual, even when Domi was dating him, you’d been mooned enough times to recognize his ass in a line up, but it feels intimate now.

“I have no idea,” you mumble, shifting your eyes away as he stretches his arms. He takes in the sight of you, the blanket loosely hanging over your body, the way your fingers clutch at it like a life preserver, saving you from something you can’t bare to name.

“Are you-?” he starts, but you cut him off nodding quickly. This doesn’t have to be a discussion, you don’t want this to be a discussion.

“Look I’ll just get my stuff and then be out of your way,” you rush out, eager to get back to a sense of normalcy. You’ve had one night stands before, you can handle this.

“No breakfast?” he mumbles and his eyes are lighting up, mischievous in the faint morning light.

“I’d rather starve,” you mutter, turning around to walk back to where your discarded skinny jeans lay.

“Oh c’mon, I know you better than that. We can get waffles or something?” he tries again and you hear him shuffling around as you awkwardly pull on jeans. It’s uncomfortable, you have no idea where your underwear is but at least you’re clothed, which is better than Colson.

“Domi likes waffles. I’m a pancake kinda girl,” you retort, antsy to prove something. He doesn’t know you, not as well as he claims to. Instead he’s mixing up the fragments of your best friend into you, swirling two different people together to create the one he wants.

“Right,” it’s dry, dying halfway in his throat. The silence in the room grows amidst the white noise of his air conditioner.

Picking up your shirt from the corner of his room, you pull it on, awkwardly adjusting it before balling up his blanket and walking over to drop it on his bed.

“Cover up your dick man,” you blurt out, hands running through the tangles in your hair, head jerking slightly at the pull.

“You weren’t saying that last night,” he smirks and you urge to wack him hard, maybe with one of his own weirdly soft pillows.

He reaches down into the drawers crammed under his bed, pulls out a pair of shorts and shuffles into them laughing at his own joke.

You do hit him then, pick up the nearest pillow, sheathed in that same silk pillowcase as the rest before throwing it his way.

He dodges it before flipping you off and the memory of it bites, nights spent throwing things at each other, the guys all egging you two on. Domi used to scoff whenever it started, yell about being childish and irritating, but you secretly knew she enjoyed it too, watched her boyfriend and best friend fight like old friends.

You snap out of it just as fast as you fell in, a pillow coming straight to hit you in the face.

“Colson!” you shout, hand going up to rub the impacted area as he smiles.

“Not sorry,” he simply shrugs and you scoff at him, push off the bed you’d sat on after the collision and go over to where he’s standing, reaching for your phone.

He blocks your hand, shifts over so that’s he standing right in your line of sight, eclipsing any further view. All you see is him, smirk permanently resting on his lips, array of colors bursting on his skin, faint whispers of something hidden in his eyes.

“My phone,” you try unceremoniously, knowing that he won’t let you past him.

“Do breakfast with me,” he demands, but its soft, a plea more than a request.

You sigh, it’s audible and you know he hears it by the slight sag of his shoulders but he’s relentless.

“It’s just like old times, won’t be weird,” he states and you find yourself laughing at his words.

“We both know that’s not true,” you say, eyes lifting up to meet his. There’s a hardness to his gaze and a part of you wants to break through it, dive in headfirst.

But this is not your territory, not your person, not your place. Domi’s etched into his soul, written somewhere, dipped into his past and no matter what you want, there is no feasible way you can be his present without ruining a friendship.

“It’s just pancakes,” he emphasizes, but he’s stepping aside all the same, letting you bend over and grab your phone.

When you turn back around, he has a shirt on, hair ruffled worse than it was when he woke up. It’s sticking up at ends and you fight the urge to walk over, laugh and pat it down.

He’s aimlessly searching for his own phone and you spot it on the windowsill, go over to pick it up and hand it off to him, murmuring, “Okay.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles out and you can’t tell whether it’s for offering his breakfast invitation or finding his phone.

You hesitate a second too long and he gives you a pointed look and then you’re moving into his space, crowding against his front.

His hands automatically fall onto your waist, pull you in but you can the confusion flickering across his face.

“Hey,” he softly says and something breaks in you.

It’s surprisingly easy to kiss him again, to drink in those lips, still warm from the early morning haze, softer than they were last night. There’s that now familiar ringing bell in the back of your head, but it disappears as Colson’s tongue slips into your mouth.

There’s obvious morning breath mingling with rank tastebuds and as much as you want to recoil, you don’t know if you’ll ever let this happen again so you soak it in, let the feeling overwhelm you.

Your fingers travel up to his messy hair, soothingly pulling at the strands in order to attempt tampering them down. He lets out a tiny groan as your nails slightly scratch at his scalp. You push further into him, fall enough that it seems like the only thing holding you up is him.

The door slams open just as you’re getting into it, leaning heavily against Colson’s body as he props himself on the wall.

The sound is enough to make you jump back, and there’s the confused look back on his face as you hastily wipe at your lips.

“You’re still here,” a voice stresses the syllables out, and you eye Rook standing there. He’s dressed, complete with that one snapback that seems to be permanently attached to his head, but the scowl on his face is all you can focus on.

“I was- um- just leaving,” you awkwardly stammer out, putting more distance between the person you seem to be magnetically attracted to.

“We’re getting breakfast. You wanna come along?” Colson spurts out without missing a beat, he’s striding towards the door and your face hardens.

There must have been some kind of miscommunication in the mess of his words, you must have read too far into it because here he was inviting his friend who clearly wasn’t too fond of you as if this was a casual thing.

“I’m good,” Rook says, tone easing when he’s speaking to his best friend. They walk out of view and you’re left alone in the room you’ve only been in twice.

There’s a bathroom right around the corner of his room and you head straight for it, pulling out the toothpaste from his cabinet and applying it to your finger, scrubbing your teeth. It’s primal, but at least you feel cleaner, a bit more aware in your head.

That kiss was stupid. This whole thing is a disaster, Domi’s still blowing up your phone and there’s a cherry pit growing in your stomach.

You step out and Colson’s standing across by the door, tying together his sneaker laces. Rook’s nowhere to be found and you thank the universe for that, far too early to be dealing with his seemingly intense grudge against you.

“I got the keys,” is all you get before the front door is opening and you’re following him down the hallway into the elevator.

Stems from last night come back to you in flashes. The chime of the elevator doors, the apartment numbers passing by in a daze, a clammy hand clutching yours, butterfly kisses on knuckles.

You snap out of it quick as you step into the elevator, expertly avoiding the corner where you’d given in to your heart and kissed Colson for the first time. It feels like a bad omen, shadowy dark and taunting as you both stand in silence, watching the floor numbers pass by.

“Do you have gum?” he asks, and it’s crisp in the August heat, cuts through the stuffiness in the traveling metal box.

You shuffle into your purse from last night, pull out a pack of gum you’d stuck in there and offer it to him going, “You didn’t brush?”

“You hogged the bathroom and I thought you’d wanna get out of there quick,” he explains nonchalantly, popping a stick of mint into his mouth. You tuck the gum back in, try not to watch the way he twirls the wrapper around in his hands.

“Thanks,” you mutter, hoping he gets the intent of what you actually mean. He nods as the doors ding open.

The lobby is surprisingly full, people sitting on the plush couches and there’s a slight, “Fuck,” mumbled out before Colson’s finding your hand and pulling you towards the garage.

“What-“ you get out before he shushes you, head down as you two move quickly.

He doesn’t explain, but you follow along, wondering why he’s running, hiding like he’s done something wrong. The garage door opens and both of you cross to where AJ’s van’s sitting, slew of motorcycles parked beside it.

“We should take the bikes,” he says, but it sounds like he’s already made up his mind and he’s picking apart the keys in his hand, dragging you over to the motorcycles.

“No what’s going on?” you rush out, pulling your hand from his as he clicks the lock on one of the machines.

“There’s a couple of paparazzi lingering. Probably cause of last night, Tony usually calls up and lets us know to avoid the front doors but I guess they just got here,” he rashly explains, setting over the seat.

He looks good, you can’t deny it, like an action movie star in his element, hand on the bars, shoe propped on the side. There’s a smile growing, jaw moving as he chews and you take a mental picture, a secret memento just for you.

“I’m not getting on your stupid bike,” you sum out, turning away from where he’s gearing it up, sound echoing around the empty garage.

“Either you leave with me, or they take pictures of you and then you’re splashed across front pages, no longer a secret,” he states, and he’s moving the bike slowly alongside as you stubbornly walk back to the garage entrance.

The last statement is made to hit you, remind you that he did do something wrong, both of you did and there’s going to be a price you’ll have to pay.

You give him a look as he smiles, knowing he’s gotten you yet again.

“You’re famous enough for the front pages?” you crack at him and he laughs, shoulders shaking.

“Get on the bike Y/N,” he’s shifting forward, creating space on the back and this can’t be safe but the options are so limited that this is the best you’re going to get.

You swing a leg over, stumbling a little at the shift in gravity before settling onto the seat. It’s weird and he’s turning his head to make sure you’re secure before starting up again.

“Keep your hands on me,” he instructs, but you’re tired of following his rules and fold them cautiously on the sliver of seat in front of you.

It’s a mistake and you realize it as soon as he exits the garage. There’s no one on the street around and he’s gunning the speed, wind pulling your hair back, blowing straight at you.

“Holy shit,” you gasp before grabbing onto his shoulders. His arm twitches slightly as you grip the muscle and you can feel every single movement he does.

It’s a red light when he mumbles to you, “Move your hands lower.”

“Why?” you ask, finally comfortable with the way you’re holding onto him after a few streets of green lights.

“Can’t focus properly on the turns,” he says and you’re a little confused but the lights switching to green and there’s a honk right behind, startling you just a little.

You slide your hands down his back, take pleasure in the way it grounds you as he leans forward, swerving between slower cars.

He moves his back, angles it in one direction and you sort of get the hint, settle your hands on his hips like they do in all the cheesy rom-com movies. But this isn’t a movie, this is real life and there’s rules that aren’t supposed to be broken, consequences to face. The air around you turns sour, hits your throat hard and you’re closing your eyes in an effort to not vomit all over Colson.

It takes a few more minutes and he’s pulling into a barely there parking spot of some hole in the wall diner. You’ve never been here, despite living a few blocks away and you wonder why he’s brought you so close to home when that’s exactly where you should be avoiding.

The engine cuts and then he’s scooting back, your hands immediately lifting from his hips where they’d found a unfamiliar solace for the short drive.

“Think we’ll run into her?” he attempts at a joke and you want to scream, want to remind him this isn’t funny, this is seriously fucked.

“I’m gonna go home if you keep this up,” you grunt out, hopping off of the bike, feet glad to be planted on the floor.

“It’s not that serious,” he murmurs, locking his bike before walking to the entrance. You stare at his retreating back, picture punching the shit out of him, blink it away before following.

“Table for two,” he effortlessly grins, blowing a bubble with the stale gum. The waiter gives him an unimpressed look, picks up the two menus and leads you to a corner booth.

You slide in first, and he slides in right beside you, his side just barely touching your arm. The waiter attempts to smile but it seems halfhearted and you can’t help but stifle a laugh at that.

“Get on the other side. This isn’t a date,” you say after the waiter leaves.

“I like it here. You’re warm,” Colson mumbles, reaching for a menu and your heart thuds in its cavity, begging to be let out.

“Look this can’t happen. You’re my best friend’s ex for gods sake, she’d kill me if she even knew I was talking to you,” you ramble out, finger playing with the frayed edge of the table, unable to look at him.

“What is this?” he says.

When you don’t respond, he huffs before going, “Wonder what’d she do to you if she found out we fucked.”

The waiter pauses right before your table, two waters in his hand. He turns around and you stare at his back, will him to come back to save you this hell you’ve found yourself in.

“Colson I’m serious. Shut the fuck up for two seconds and think about it,” you mutter, voice lower so that the waiter can hopefully head your way again. Your throat feels parched, dust settling against your vocal cords.

“I am being serious. I don’t get why she’d care. She broke up with me, it’s been six fucking months. I thought we both moved on,” he states matter-of-factly, reaching over your hands to grab a sugar packet.

He twists it around on the table, pink packet spinning into a blur as you watch it, wondering what to say next.

“It’s messed up. We shouldn’t even have talked to each other,” you breathe out.

“Well we did. Y/N, you’ve always been my friend first. I wasn’t going to ignore you because Domi wouldn’t like it,” he stops the spinning packet with his palm, flattens it into table.

Your waters appear on the table, two straws tossed next to full cups with a, “Ready to order?”

“Give us a few?” Colson says, voice tilting up at the end posing it as question, confidence dripping into his words. There isn’t an answer but the waiter turns away.

“The only reason I know you is cause of her,” you truthfully respond.

“Doesn’t mean our entire relationship has to be based off of what she wants. She’s not good for you,” he grabs a straw, tearing the wrapper before dropping it into a glass and passing it over to you.

Your head’s still stuck on the word relationship, knows that he doesn’t mean it romantically but the thought of it still lingers.

“You can’t say that,” you mumble in response to his last few words.

“Okay. I can’t. But I can tell you that you deserve a best friend who doesn’t go around cutting off your friends because she doesn’t want to see them anymore,” his statement seems like a final word, laying itself in the open air.

The waiter’s walking back and you quickly order the first thing you see, some blueberry pancake special and pray it isn’t bad. He orders an omelet, customizes it and you listen at the ease of his words, how he sounds like he owns the place while specifying his veggies.

Your menu gets handed back over and you sip at the ice water, try not to gulp it down.

“I’m sorry if that was out of line,” he attempts, but you don’t want to hear it anymore, don’t want to break the train of thought in your head repeating his last phrase.

“Can we just- you know be normal for now?” you ask, voice small compared to his.

“Sure yeah. You like blueberries?” he switches so quick it almost gives you whiplash, even though you asked for it.

His arm’s on the booth cushion behind you head, you can feel it as you go to lean back and it feels too close to a date for comfort.

“No it was just the first thing I saw,” you say without really meaning to.

He laughs at that and you smile too, easing into a neutral state.

“What if it’s gross? You know blueberries can freeze in just four minutes,” he spits out and you feel his leg bump against yours at the fun fact.

“Why do you know that?” you huff, eyes going to watch him speak.

“Read an article once,” he seems awfully pleased with himself and you roll your eyes muttering, “Glad to see you know how to read.”

He nudges you hard at that and you fall deeper into him somehow, find yourself tucked right into his side.

“You weren’t this mean to me last night,” he says pointedly, lifting his glass up.

“I wasn’t hungover last night,” you retort, or addled with guilt your mind adds silently.

“Oh shit, I forgot,” and then he’s ruffling through his pockets mumbling, “I thought I had some Advil in here.”

“No thanks, keep your pocket drugs. I’ll just sleep it off at home,” you say, although the idea of home and Domi just makes you queasy.

Two full plates are gently placed in front of you, steaming and fresh. You eye the purple blue dots on your pancakes suspiciously, hoping the taste isn’t as dark as the mosaic it creates visually.

Colson’s omelette looks incredible, cheese and vibrant red tomatoes popping off the plate and you want to taste it, see if its as good as he made it sound.

“I forgot you don’t get hungover,” you mumble, last few bits of the previous conversation slipping through before you lose yourself in the meal.

“Life of a rockstar,” he laughs out before grabbing his fork.

“Humble rockstar,” you laugh back as he clinks his silverware against yours.

The pancakes taste exactly and how they look and your tastebuds struggle in figuring out a flavor pattern. It’s bursts of sour, before buttery goodness and sugary maple. You demolish an entire pancake before realizing you’re out with a friend.

“You want some?” you mumble, chewing over a bite.

He watches you inquisitively from where he sits, fork dancing over his own plate. You will yourself not to blush under his gaze, almost choke on the piece tucked into your mouth.

He pulls off a piece, bites into it and you see his face twist up as he goes, “What is that?”

“Probably frozen blueberries,” you reply and his eyes light up at the recalling of his words as he swallows down the pancake.

“Terrible,” he mumbles, sipping on the dark coffee he’s ordered.

Colson’s a coffee freak, particular about the sugar levels, the amount of ice that goes into his drink, even the origin of the coffee beans. You’d learned this early on as he refused to participate in Starbuck runs, grunted in distaste when you would show up at his apartment, carrying a frappe, Domi sipping happily at her own.

The food finishes quick, you’ve taken bites of his omelette, trying not to praise the medley of flavors he’s somehow incorporated into an egg. He hasn’t cooked it of course, but you would never be able to combine options to come up with this type of breakfast.

He reluctantly finishes your last pancake, dousing it in syrup and making faces with every bite, mostly to make you laugh. His fingers are sticky and he lets them slide together before pulling them apart, string of maple connecting them, his eyebrows raising smirkingly towards you. You push him hard at the innuendo.

The bill comes around and goes back faster than you can react. He pays it quickly and quietly, not even letting you attempt at it. There’s a slight rush that overcomes you at that, you’ve always know he was generous, but this is different from late night McDonalds with the bros, slightly more personal.

He gets up to wash his hands after the mess he’s created and you shake your head at the pure stickiness of his hand as he walks away.

You pull your phone out, knowing you’ll regret it as soon as you catch sight of the time. You’ve been here with Colson for over an hour.

They flow of text messages from your roommate vary in subject, but near the end there’s no emojis, capital letters reflecting back at you and you know she’s mad, can feel it rolling off the screen. This is going to a bitch to hide.

“You should unblock my number while you have it out,” Colson suggests, voice startling you.

“Should I?” you wonder, more to hear it out loud to yourself than actually ask him.

He shrugs but his intentions are clear as he says, “Wouldn’t hurt now, would it?”

“What would you even text me?” you quiz this time, pointer finger tapping at the sides of your phone.

“Don’t know. Cool things. Fun facts,” he rattles off as if he’s creating a shoddy list in his head.

“Convincing,” you laugh before going to your settings. The blocked numbers stare up at you, at least five of them on that list unfairly.

You find his, the first one blocked all the way at the bottom and swipe.

Unblock? your phone asks, as if knowing you’re having trouble with this decision, second thoughts about something as trivial as a phone number.

Yes, you tap and then the list decreases automatically.

“Done,” you say, putting your phone back into your pocket.

“Good,” he hums before offering you his hand.

You take it, weirdly knowing this is the last time you will. He lets your intertwined fingers fall between the two of you, swings them just a little, hitting them against your legs as if he’s just as aware of the finality of it all too.

You take a breath, walk towards the exit. The doors open and you both step out, get down the steps and towards his bike.

You drop his hand first, look up at him, whisper, “I’m going to walk home.”

He doesn’t protest, you can’t tell if he wants to, but you secretly hope he does, in some twisted selfish way.

“Okay,” is all you get back from him and then he’s getting on his bike.

You don’t look back as his engine roars to life, or when you hear the telltale zoom of him speeding away. You feel sick, but remind yourself to keep walking, put as much distance between this mistake as you can.

Your heart aches at the word mistake, cracks the minute you can’t hear the motorcycle anymore, too far gone to even be white noise for your walk of shame home. This has to happen, you remind yourself, staring at the gum stains on the sidewalk. You’re going to be fine.

-

taglist:  @iamdorka @no-shxt-sherl @bakerkells @findingmyths @rosegoldrichie​ @mayaslifeinabox​ @itjustkindahappenedreally @hnbtx @backoftheroomandnotbelonging​ @sophroniaa​ @enchantedamusedslightlyconfused​ @calum-defense-squad

[cheri-translates]

Mystery Game Box - Gavin’s Storyline

Before continuing, please read @thescentoflavender’s post which introduces the Mystery Game Box first! 

As she’ll be translating the contents of the physical box, I’ll only be translating the plot and whichever items are relevant for understanding it.

[ PART 0 ]

Just like any other day, I make a list of today’s work while stepping into the office, full of vigour. 

Morning sunlight filters through the curtains and onto my office desk. I walk over to the desk, discovering that a document has been delivered.

MC: When was this sent? There shouldn't be any collaborative documents needing to be signed recently, right?

After circling through my memories, I still can’t figure out which program’s documents would be sent at this time. 

Sitting down, I pick up the package and give it a look over. Although the addressee is me, the sender’s portion is left blank.

MC: Could it be a threat...

I mutter to myself, recalling how Kiki mentioned that media companies receive threats. At the same time, I’m tickled by such a thought.

No matter what it is, it’s best to open it. It wouldn’t be good to miss something related to work.

There’s something stuffed in the thin document file. Opening it and peering inside, there’s nothing except for an envelope. 

There are no embellishments on the black envelope, and it doesn’t look like an envelope used for work.

After hesitating for a while, I open the envelope carefully.

A letter in the same colour sits in it quietly. Trembling slightly, I flip it open.

Messy information spreads open, filling my entire vision.

MC: The contents of the letter... what does it mean?

[Note] This puzzle is quite difficult to explain but I’ll try. Basically, the letter doesn’t make sense, but the hint is “You will definitely see it”. If you were to mark out all the times the individual words of the phrase appear, you’ll see the word “EVOL”

[ Player Input: EVOL ]

MC: EVOL...

The moment I read out this word, my brows furrow, and I subconsciously bite my lower lip.

Who sent this letter, and what is his objective? Why would it mention Evol?

Looking at the letter in my hand, I sieve through my memories, searching for clues.

[Note] If you fold the sides of the letter into the middle, you can see the word “Evolution”

[ Player Input: EVOLUTION ]

MC: EVOLUTION...

I meticulously study the image that appears after curling the letter in my hand, seeing it there’s more information.

All of a sudden, a “thud” is heard at the door. Frantic, my hands tremble, and I hurriedly turn towards the sound.

MC: What is it? Did something happen? 

Kiki: Boss, why are you still here! We’re not going to finish the demo trailer in time!

Kiki wears a panicked expression, and she’s hugging a stack of thick documents as she walks forward.

MC: Oh yes, the trailer!

The first thing I was originally supposed to handle upon reaching the office was the trailer. However, the mysterious document on the table led to a delay.

I hurriedly stuff the letter into the drawer, then walk to the editing room with Kiki, planning to return to settle the letter afterwards. 

The relatively small room is faintly encased with the smell of smoke. I frown, looking at the editor who appears to be collapsed in his seat.

Hearing the sound of the door opening, the editor turns his head, and his vacant gaze lights up, as though he’s seen his saviour.  

Editor: MC, you’re finally here. Where did you put those storyboard references you mentioned before? I just can’t get these storyboards right!

Kiki and I walk forward. When we see the messy room filled with stacks of materials, I can’t help but criticise him softly. 

MC: No wonder you can’t find it even half a day...

Editor: Don’t criticise me. Hurry and help me look for it!

With a sigh, I poke around the cupboards and drawers in the room...

MC: It’s this one, right?

I retrieve a stack of materials from the drawer and hand it to the editor. Looking at it, he nods, and immediately turns to the computer.

The clicking of the mouse and tapping of the keyboard can be heard. I sit on a chair at the side, ensuring that nothing’s wrong before leaving.

Originally prepared to return to my desk to properly study that strange letter, I didn’t expect Willow to tug me into the meeting room right after I stepped out of the editing room.

A discussion of the proposal for the new program, details regarding the program’s recording, arranging for the venue...

After a busy day in which I could only chow down a few bites for lunch, I finally manage to breathe near the end of my working hours.

MC: Phew...

Rubbing my slightly aching neck, I stare at the dim sky outside the window, releasing a soft sigh.

There shouldn’t be anything else after this, and I have to hurry back to study that letter properly.

Wanting to check the time, I take out my phone. However, I realise that my phone was in silent mode, and countless missed calls and messages fill the screen.

MC: After losing contact for an entire day, he must have been worried...

Looking at the missed calls in my phone, I decide to call him.

-

[ Mini-activity ]

MC: Huff...

After competing a new proposal, I plop onto the office desk in fatigue.

MC: Before getting off work, I shall scroll through Weibo... just for five minutes.

I swipe the phone screen, skimming through the day’s trending topics and public comments towards the program. 

Then, my fingers subconsciously tap on that person’s Weibo page...

Gavin’s Weibo name is “白起7″...

I tap into his main page, and happen to see a new update. 

Right after leaving a ‘like’ on his Weibo post, I receive a notification.

Tapping to my private messages, I realise that it’s a locked message. I need to input a password before I can read it.

Also, the answer seems to be related to the sticker in my hand and the Weibo post Gavin posted on 3 December...

[Note] The sticker features Pearly and is labelled “Bai04″!

Haven’t seen Pearly in a while. He eats a lot now.

[ Player Input: BAI04 ]

The message: 

Seen the Weibo post? Actually, I wanted to tell you that it’s not just Pearly. Returning from this mission, it’s been very long since I’ve seen you.

I really miss you.

- Gavin

-

[ PART 1 ] 

I give Gavin a call, sounding apologetic.

MC: Sorry, I've been very busy with work today, and my phone was on silent mode. That’s why I didn’t see your messages.

Gavin: It’s okay. I guessed that you were probably busy.

My eyes sweep over the time on the phone - it’s indeed time to get off work. 

MC: Mm, I’m preparing to leave work. But the reason why you’re asking...

While speaking, I peer outside the window. As expected, I see the image I predicted.

Gavin is currently standing downstairs, next to the trees. His black motorcycle is stationed at the side of the road, and the streetlights elongate the shadows of both him and the motorcycle.

MC: Are you here to pick me up from work?

Outside the window, Gavin seems to freeze. After a moment, he lifts his head.

I smile while waving at him. Gavin waves back, and a very soft chuckle can be heard from the other end of the line.

Gavin: I happened to pass by. I’ll send you home. 

I can’t help but laugh. 

MC: That’s what you always say. How could you happen to pass by every day?

Because of the distance between us, I can’t see Gavin’s expression clearly. But the light cough I hear from the line allows me to imagine how he looks like. 

Gavin: Actually, I brought a gift today, and wanted to give it to you.

MC: A gift?

Thinking of how Gavin has been waiting downstairs for a very long time, I speed up my pace of packing my belongings.

MC: I’ll be down very quickly!

Gavin first makes a sound of acknowledgement. Before he hangs up, he adds:

Gavin: Take your time. I’ll wait for you downstairs. 

MC: Got it!

With another wave at the window, I pack my bag and turn around, heading towards the door. 

-

[ PART 2 ]

Gavin stands underneath a tree, leaning against his motorcycle, his entire form looking very relaxed. 

Noticing me, Gavin straightens up, a faint smile surfacing on his face. 

MC: Sorry for making you wait...

Gavin: It’s nothing.

Gavin takes out a petite and exquisite ginkgo leaf bookmark from behind him, holding it out in front of me. 

Gavin: This is for you.

MC: It’s so beautiful... Thank you, Gavin. I like it very much. But why did you suddenly think of giving me a gift?

I keep the ginkgo leaf bookmark carefully. Gavin meets my gaze. After exchanging a short glance, he averts his line of sight.

Gavin: ...cough. I just thought you could use it. Are you hungry? We could grab dinner?

MC: I’m not very hungry yet.

I shake my head. Seeing Sparky behind Gavin, I suddenly have an idea.

MC: Before having dinner, we could first go for a ride on Sparky. Work has been pretty busy today, and I want a change of mood...

As though not expecting my suggestion at all, Gavin is slightly stunned. Then, the corners of his lips curve upwards. He pats the backseat of the motorcycle, taking out a helmet and handing it to me.

Gavin: Okay, get on.

I take the helmet from him. He helps me onto the backseat, and I wrap my arms around his waist.

Gavin: Is there anywhere you want to go?

MC: I want to go... to the place you usually like to visit.

Gavin chuckles. He suddenly grips the hands that I’ve wrapped around his waist, giving them a forward pull, making me hug him even more tightly.

Gavin: Hold tight.

My cheeks grow warm. Nodding, I press a flushed cheek against his back.

The violent beating of my heart reverberates along with the roar of the engine.

Even though it’s after work and the roads are somewhat congested, the good part about Gavin riding a motorcycle is that we can weave through small roads. The path we take is smooth and without obstacles. 

Without even realising it, we reach the entrance of Loveland High.

MC: It’s been such a long time since I’ve been in the vicinity of high school.

Gavin: Want to go for a walk nearby?

MC: Mm!

We leave Sparky at the side of the road. Right after removing my helmet, a girl walks towards us with an anxious expression.

Girl: Erm... have any of you seen a white school bag? There’s a frog keychain on it, and it’s about this big.

The girl is wearing a Loveland High uniform, and should be a student. She gestures with her hands, her tone bringing with it a tinge of sobbing, and her eyes are slightly red.

Gavin and I exchange a glance of tacit understanding. We stop in our footsteps, turning to the girl.

MC: Did you lose something?

Girl: Yes... my school bag. I went to look for my bicycle earlier, and left it at the side because it was too heavy. In... in the end, it went missing...

MC: If it’s nearby, we could first ask the security guards at the entrance of the school. If someone picked it up, they might have brought it there. If not...

It’s very possible that someone deliberately took it... With such a thought, I glance at Gavin.

Gavin frowns, likely sharing the same thoughts.

Gavin: Is there anything valuable in the bag?

Girl: Yes! My wallet, identity card, phone and keys...

It’d be troublesome if her identity card is in the bag. After giving it some thought, I offer a suggestion.

MC: Let’s ask the security guard first. If it isn’t there, we’ll head to the police station, which happens to be nearby.

The girl nods, suppressing her tears and following us to the security guard’s office.

However, the security guard didn’t see her bag. As such, we head towards the Loveland Police Department according to what I suggested earlier. 

Officer Landsman yawns as he walks out. When he sees Gavin, he looks slightly surprised. Before he can say anything, Gavin speaks.

He points at the girl who lost her items.

Gavin: She lost something. We’re here to check if anyone picked it up and brought it here. If not, file a report.

Officer Landsman freezes for a moment before responding, pulling the girl away to understand her situation.

I feel a little uneasy, but decide that it wouldn’t be good to follow them. So I can only remain in my spot and watch the girl’s back.

Probably seeing my worry, Gavin pats my head.

Gavin: I’ll take a look. Stay here and wait for me. Oh yes, there might be someone bringing an item over. If I’m not around, take it for me.

MC: Mm, got it. What is it?

Gavin: It’s a box, and it might require a secret sign. If that person asks you what it is, the ginkgo bookmark I gave you earlier has the answer. It’s okay if you can’t find it - just wait for me to return. I’ll be done very soon.

I nod. Gavin leaves, following the girl and Officer Landsman.

After sending him off with my eyes till he vanishes beyond a corner, I sit down at the waiting area.

Not long after, a youth wearing a white jacket walks over. His gaze travels around the surroundings, before it lands on me.

Youth: Do you know Officer Gavin?

MC: I do... May I know if something happened?

Sizing up the youth before me, I recall how Gavin mentioned that someone could be sending an item over. Perhaps this is the person.

MC: Are you here to send something?

The youth in the white jacket watches me silently, not saying anything.

MC: (That’s right, Gavin mentioned that there’s a secret sign, and it’s found on the ginkgo leaf bookmark...)

From my bag, I retrieve the ginkgo leaf bookmark Gavin gave me, and observe it carefully...

The secret sign on the ginkgo leaf bookmark is...

[Note] There’s an inscription on the ginkgo leaf bookmark which reads “B-7″

[ Player Input: B-7 ]

MC: B-7?

I try saying the secret sign. He seems to finally set his mind at ease, and takes out a small box, holding it in front of me.

Youth: His badge is inside. I’ll have to trouble you to give it to him.

MC: Ah... okay.

After the youth in white gives the item to me, he stands up and leaves.

MC: It’s definitely something very precious...

I take the box. Afraid of losing it, I place it into my own bag.

After a while, Gavin finally returns. Behind him are Officer Landman and the girl who lost her things.

I walk forward quickly, my tone a little frantic.

MC: How is it? 

Gavin: A report has been filed. Leave the rest to them.

I nod, looking at the worried girl and giving her soft encouragement.

MC: It’s okay, it’d definitely be found! 

The girl lowers her eyes and nods, thanking us.

Gavin and I aren't of any help even if we were to stay here, so we leave the precinct. 

-

[ PART 3 ]

Gavin: You should be hungry by now?

MC: Mm, I’m hungry. Where should we eat...

I place a hand on my cheek, quickly thinking about dinner options. Being in the vicinity of Loveland High, I can’t help but think of that place. 

Gavin and I share a glance. Even without speaking, we clearly know what the other is thinking.

MC and Gavin: Lynn’s Kitchen?

Our unanimous answer causes us to chuckle softly.

Lynn’s Kitchen is a noodle shop near Loveland High. During high school days, I’d come over to join the queue when lessons ended early.

Also, the shop only sells a limited quantity of dishes each day. Once they’re sold out, they’d close the shop.

MC: At this time, Lynn’s Kitchen’s probably already closed...

With slight regret, I look at the time displayed on my phone.

Gavin: We could try our luck. There’s been an increase in supply in the shop recently, so it might still be open.

MC: Really? That’s amazing. Let’s hurry over to take a look!

At our quickest speed, we reach the entrance of Lynn’s Kitchen. But from afar, we could already tell that the shop is closed.

Gavin looks at me, then pulls me closer to the entrance of the shop.

Gavin: If you want to eat it, I...

Understanding the meaning in Gavin’s words, I hurriedly shake my head, interrupting him.

MC: There’s no need to specially trouble Mr Noah. Since the shop increased its stock, I’m sure Mr Noah is already very tired. We came too late today. Next time, we’ll just come earlier.

Saying all of this in one breath, I realise that Gavin has been looking at me from the side this whole time. His gaze is tender and clear, and there’s a faint smile on his lips.

MC: W-what is it.... you keep looking at me...

Gavin: Nothing much. We’ll come here earlier next time.

MC: Mm. In that case, we’ll--

Just as I plan to turn around, I’m frozen to the spot when something suddenly catches my eye.

--it’s an envelope. A black coloured envelope.

It’s now lying on the ground quietly, as though waiting for me to pick it up.

Coming to my senses, I notice that the black envelope is very similar to the one I kept in the office during the day.

MC: ...what’s going on?

Gavin: MC, what’s wrong?

MC: This letter... it’s probably for me.

I pick up the envelope. Despite my hesitance, I follow my gut feeling and open it. There’s a folded letter inside.

The contents are a splitting image of the letter from earlier. There are a few fragmented words, but there's a symbol at the bottom left corner, as though it’s the name of the sender.

It’s a cursive “S”. It’s the logo of Black Swan.

As though I’m doused in ice, prickles of sweat ooze out on my back. But I force myself to calm down, wanting to find other clues from the letter.

Gavin: Let me see.

Along with Gavin’s line of sight, I see traces of a white circle...

[ Player Input: New World ]

MC: New World...

Recalling the words “EVOL” and “EVOLUTION” on the previous letter, the unease in my heart courses to the surface like a tide, burying me.

With a serious expression on his face, Gavin tugs on my hand, bringing me away from this place.

Gavin: What happened? 

I didn’t want to make him worry, but there’s no hiding from Gavin’s questioning gaze. Along the way, I give him a simple account of how I received the first letter in the daytime.

Even though I’ve already tried my best to shroud the danger within it, Gavin furrows his brows, just as I expected. 

MC: It shouldn’t be anything major. It’s just two letters. Also, they might even be my own typos...

I attempt to rationalise, but Gavin interrupts me.

Gavin: It isn’t that simple. I’ll investigate the letters. Afterwards, give me the first letter so I can have a look too. And let me know if anything happens. 

Gavin’s expression is very serious, and I can only nod in agreement. 

Sparky’s speed is as swift as the wind and quick as lightning like usual. I hug Gavin’s waist tightly, closing my eyes slowly, attempting to suppress my unease.

Before we part, Gavin calls out to me again, his eyes revealing faint worry. 

Gavin: MC, take care of your safety these days. 

MC: Got it. There’s no need to be so worried... I'll take care of myself.

Gavin doesn’t say anything else. I give him a wave, sending him off with my eyes, then turn around and head towards home. 

-

[ PART 4 ]

Perhaps due to how busy I was at work today, and how so many things happened, drowsiness continuously dulls my consciousness.

Furrowing my brows, I look at the letter which I’ve placed on my table, but still fail to discover more clues.

MC: Forget it, I should head to sleep...

After washing my face and rinsing my mouth, I burrow into my quilt.

Probably because I'm too tired, sleep consumes me the moment I touch the soft covers.

My consciousness gradually drifts, venturing further and further away from me...

...

[ Background: White ]

Milky white mist floats in the air, reminiscent of a soft spray from the ocean, pelting against my cheeks.

I’m standing in the middle of the mist, and there’s nothing in my surroundings. For some reason, one thought is exceedingly clear in my mind.

--this is a dream.

Coming to my senses, I take a step forward, and the mist parts. At the same time, a low masculine voice sounds.

??: Queen.

My body freezes in place. My mind finally catches up with what’s happening, and I recall the black envelopes, my back tensing up.

MC: Who are you?

However, that person doesn’t give me a straightforward answer. A soft chuckle drifts to my ears.

??: You don’t need to know who I am. You just need to know who you are, and the destiny you’re shouldering.

MC: What does that mean? You’re someone from Black Swan, aren’t you? You sent me those letters, and your purpose is to...

There are countless questions in my heart, but that voice cuts me off.

??: You just need to understand that you’re Queen, and that there are things you should do.

His voice is more severe, as though emphasising the point.

MC: What are you referring to?

Knowing fully well that I won’t be able to ask about other things, I latch onto his words.

That discomforting laugh resounds once more, and it’s growing closer.

In the depths of the mist, a black profile appears along with the voice, and his profile gradually becomes clearer...

-

[ PART 5 ]

Just as the black figure draws closer to me, a ray of harsh white light appears. 

I instinctively shield my eyes with my hand, and the ground beneath my feet suddenly trembles. 

I try to stabilise myself. After a few seconds, the ground becomes stable again, and the harsh light seems to vanish too.

Setting down my hand slowly, I open my eyes once more to scan my surroundings. 

[ Background: Loveland Police Department ]

Familiar uniforms, a neat waiting area, people walking to and fro...

MC: This is... the Loveland Police Department? What’s going on?

Wasn’t I having a dream earlier? There was even a strange voice and a black figure. Why am I suddenly in the police station?

My train of thought sinks into a temporary jumble. At this moment, a somewhat familiar figure appears in my line of sight.

MC: Officer Landsman?

Am I really in the Loveland Police Department? But why...

In the midst of my thoughts, Officer Landsman walks up to me. Next to him is a female officer who appears to be about the same age as I am. She has short hair, and seems very competent and experienced.

Officer Landsman: Here, this is the Officer Lowe you were looking for.

Officer Lowe: Hello. 

MC: H-hello...

I shake her hand in confusion. Before I can ask any questions, Officer Landsman speaks.

Officer Landsman: I’ll leave you two girls to investigate the case. I wonder what the TV station is thinking... take care of your safety.

MC: Investigate the case?

I find myself completely unable to keep up with the conversation, and can only foolishly repeat what Officer Landman said.

Officer Landsman: That’s right. It’s that case with the internet celebrity. Her name is... what’s her name again?

Offer Lowe sighs, chipping in on Officer Landsman’s behalf.

Officer Lowe: Hollow.

Hearing this name, I’m frozen entirely to the spot. Hasn’t Hollow’s case been resolved? Gavin and I investigated it together. 

Officer Landsman nods, failing to notice how odd I’m behaving. He chuckles and pats Officer Lowe on the shoulder.

Officer Landsman: Yes yes, it’s her. Do your best in the investigation, and take care of your safety.

Officer Lowe: Got it. Shall we go, Producer MC?

Returning to my senses, I feel a sheen of sweat on my palm, but can only grit my teeth and nod, following Officer Lowe as we leave the precinct. 

What’s going on? Is this a dream? Or reality...

MC: It should just be a dream...

Because I can distinctly remember that the Hollow issue was investigated by Gavin and I.

It was the first time we met since high school, and I definitely wouldn’t remember wrongly. 

But the situation right now...

My train of thought gets muddled once again. While my thoughts are in a frenzy, I follow behind Officer Lowe. Suddenly, I trip on something.

MC: Ah...

Lowering my head, I see a badge reflecting faint light as it lies by my feet.

MC: This is... Gavin’s badge?

I bend down to pick it up, and discover that it’s indeed the badge the youth in the white jacket asked me to hand to Gavin. I even collected it on his behalf.

MC: Ah, oh no, I forgot to return the badge to Gavin...

I can’t help but mutter to myself, and suddenly notice that there seems to be something special on the badge. It’s as though it’s giving me a hint. 

I look at the image in the middle of the badge. It seems a little different from my memory. If I could summarise the difference...

[Note] Basically, there are parts of Chinese characters inscribed on the badge, which form the words 迎接 (“ying jie”) - which means “welcome”

[ Player input: WELCOME ]

MC: “Welcome”?

What does that mean? Welcome what?

I find this utterly inexplicable, and I don’t understand the logic in this dream.

At this moment, Officer Lowe turns her head. She has already reached the entrance of the precinct. Waving at me, she rushes me softly.

Even though I don’t know why this dream is so odd, if it’s just a dream... taking things one step at time should be okay.

Perhaps by walking forward, I can figure out what’s going on.

With this thought in mind, I grip Gavin’s badge a little tighter in my hand, and head towards the exit. 

However, the moment I take a step, a shrill cry sounds from in front of me.

Officer Lowe: Be careful!

She runs towards me, her gaze focused on the spot above me. 

Lifting my head in confusion, my eyes widen in alarm.

The glass bulb above my head has suddenly shattered, and the pieces are quickly falling towards me--

[ Background: MCs Home ]

MC: !

I jolt awake in my bed. My breathing is rapid, and I’m drenched in sweat.

The room is extremely quiet, save for the sound of my panting.

Moonlight streams in from outside the window, and the bed is as soft as always, reminding me of the current time and where I am.

Even so, in this moment, I can’t tell if I’m experiencing reality or a dream.

After an inordinate amount of time, my heartbeat slowly settles. I sit on the bed quietly, doing my best to take deep breaths. 

I seem... to be a little more clear-headed.

Rubbing my temples, I subconsciously look at the bedside table. 

Moonlight illuminates it, and happens to fall on the black coloured envelope, making it look like it’s on the middle of a stage.

I have a feeling that the strange dream earlier... was definitely related to this letter.

MC: Is it an Evolver? One who can control dreams?

After all, this isn’t the first time Black Swan has done similar things. Moreover, the voice in the dream mentioned “Queen”.

Their purpose has always been obvious, because I’m who they call “Queen”.

They’ve been using various sorts of methods to get close to me, in order for me to fulfil their so-called “evolution goals”.

MC: But this dream... seems to have just been a dream.

It can’t cause any real impact. At least for now, that’s what it feels like.

Probably because I just jolted awake, I can’t really comprehend what happened.

Reaching for my phone to check the time, I note that it’s currently 4am. 

MC: Texts?

I’m slightly surprised as I look at the notification on my phone. These texts seem to have been sent before I went to sleep:

Gavin’s Text: I found a few clues regarding the incident with the letters. I’ll tell you about them tomorrow.

Gavin’s Text: Have a good rest, and take care of your safety.

-

Those short sentences seem to melt into a warm, flowing stream, coursing through my heart.

Whether it’s Black Swan, whether it’s reality or a dream, I’ll never have to face them alone. 

A small smile surfaces on my lips. But at the same time, I can’t help feeling slightly vexed. 

MC: I've made him worry again... I’ll head to the office earlier tomorrow to get the letter. I might even receive a new one.

Looking at the texts again, my mood finally relaxes a little, and I can even joke around with myself.

Whatever it is, it’d wait till tomorrow. 

-

[ PART 6 ]

The next day, I head to the office early. 

The letter I placed in the drawer is still lying inside quietly, and it doesn’t look any different.

I shake my head to steady myself, placing the letter into my bag.

MC: It’s better not to think too much into it by myself. I’ll talk to him about it later.

Willow, myself, and the others discuss the proposal for the new program, and completely fail to notice the passing of time.

By the time I look at the time, the phone in my hand happens to vibrate too.

MC: Gavin?

Looking at the name on the screen, I suddenly recall the dream from yesterday, and I tap the “accept” button with complicated emotions.

Gavin: MC, are you still busy?

MC: I just finished the busiest part of work.

Gavin: Did anything happen after yesterday?

Hearing the concerned tone in Gavin’s voice, I suddenly recall the dream, which was void of Gavin. A wordless heaviness weighs in my heart.

MC: Gavin, could I ask you something...

Gavin: Mm, what is it?

MC: What if knowing each other was just a dream?

Gavin: It’s not a dream. I’m always by your side.

MC: Gavin...

Hearing Gavin’s response, I can’t help but feel silly. How could I treat that dream as a reality?

Gavin: Actually, I’m below your office right now. 

MC: Huh?

Astonished, I grip my phone and walk to the window. As expected, I once again see that familiar figure. He’s standing underneath a tree, his head lifted as he looks in my direction.

Gavin: If you aren’t busy right now, get off work early. We didn’t manage to have Lynn’s Kitchen yesterday, did we? Since I happen to have time now, I’ll bring you there.

MC: Yet another “happen”...

The corners of my lips curl upwards, the heaviness accumulated in my heart earlier dissolving because of him.

MC: Okay, I’ll be down soon.

-

[ Background: Lynn’s Kitchen ]

The moment Gavin and I step into the shop, Mr Noah greets us enthusiastically.

Gavin: The usual. A bowl of noodles with clear broth, and a bowl of spicy noodles. 

Mr Noah: Sure. Have a seat.

After ordering, I recall that Gavin’s badge is still in my bag.

MC: Oh yes, this is for you. At the precinct yesterday, someone in a white jacket asked me to give this to you. I carelessly forgot to pass it to you yesterday, so it’s been in my bag for the whole day...

I lower my head in slight embarrassment. Gavin reaches out to take the box, shooting me a smile.

Gavin: Thank you for keeping it safe for me. 

It’s not far from the school’s dismissal time, and there are many students in uniforms patronising the shop. 

While Gavin and I are talking, a girl takes a filled post-it note and pastes it on the wall behind me.

Stopping what I'm doing, I turn my head to look at the many post-it notes on the wall.

MC: I kind of feel like I’m returning to my student days...

Looking at the wall of post-it notes, an unending wave of nostalgia seeps from my heart. 

MC: Come to think of it, I wrote a post-it note during my high school days. What about you?

Gavin: ...I wrote one.

MC: Really? In that case, I need to search for it properly!

Filled with vigour, I leave my seat, walking to the post-it wall and carefully sieve through the numerous, colourful post-it notes.

But there are far too many... After staring for a long time, I can’t find the familiar handwriting.

At this point, Gavin walks to my side.

Gavin: Found it yet?

MC: Not yet... Is it no longer on this wall? The post-it note I wrote in high school is already gone. 

Gavin’s serious gaze lands on the post-it wall. It’s as though he sees the years from the past through this wall.

After taking a careful look, Gavin gives a definite answer.

Gavin: It’s still there. Should I tell you where it is?

MC: H-hold on! I’ll find it myself. But... could you give me a little hint?

Gavin looks at me, a small smile on his lips. 

Gavin: Okay.

He picks up a pen and a post-it note. writing something on it. 

Taking the blue post-it note that Gavin has handed to me, I see that there’s a number “7″, and his signature. Are these hints?

There are quite a number of blue and white post-its. What does this have to with the number Gavin wrote?

[Note] Tapping on the white post-it notes will show you things that people have written. The one at the bottom belongs to Gavin:

[ Player input: Until I met you ]

MC: Found it!

I finally see a faded and old post-it note. On it, the handwriting is evidently youthful, but I’m certain that it’s Gavin’s handwriting.

MC: “Until I met you.”...

I read out the contents of the post-it note, my gaze secretly flitting to Gavin, who is standing beside me. 

He looks at that post-it note, and seems to display a nostalgic expression too.

At this moment, Mr Noah steps out the kitchen, carrying two bowls of noodles.

Gavin: The noodles are ready. Let’s eat.

Gavin guides me away from the post-it wall, and the fragrance of noodles ignites the hunger in my belly.

We return to our table. After tucking into a great meal, I set down my bowl and chopsticks in satisfaction.

MC: Gavin, thank you for specially bringing me here today. I also have to thank you for the bookmark you gave me. I’ve been re-reading Byron’s Poetry Collection, and it can be used.

Gavin: Good that it’s useful.

I retrieve the poetry collection that I’ve carried along with me, flipping to the page marked out by the ginkgo leaf bookmark, wanting to show him that I'm not simply exaggerating.

The ginkgo leaf bookmark reflects a brilliant and warm light from the setting sun, as though it can illuminate an incredibly, incredibly distant past.

My gaze falls on the poem, and I seem to notice something new.

When I place the bookmark on the ginkgo leaf picture on the page of Byron’s Poetry Collection and slowly pivot it...

[Note] The poem she’s looking at is titled “I Saw Thee Weep”. This part doesn’t work in English, but what happens is if you pivot the ginkgo leaf bookmark on the poem, four characters can be identified: 你是我的 (“ni shi wo de”), which translates to: “You are mine”

[ Player input: You are mine ]

MC: [blushes] (You are mine...)

I lift my head to cast a furtive glance at Gavin, who is still eating his noodles. Then, I quietly lower my head and repeat that phrase in my heart.

Is it a coincidence? Or...

The more I think about it, the more my cheeks heat up. I allow my thoughts to wander and ferment in my mind, but lack the courage to ask him about it.

Shutting the poetry collection, I take up my chopsticks again, shaking my head and trying to toss the earlier thoughts from my head.

Gavin: Your face is really red. Is it because of the noodles? I’ll get you a cup of cold water.

MC: [blushing] No, no.

I press down on Gavin’s hand, stopping him from getting up. I hurriedly change the subject.

MC: Do you still remember the first time we came to Lynn’s Kitchen together? Back then, we came to shoot the “Letters in Time” program... ah...letters...

As though capturing a key word, Gavin’s brows knit, his gaze worried.

Gavin: Speaking of letters, did you bring the first letter?

The black envelopes abruptly appear in my mind. My breathing slows, and I retrieve the two letters from my bag and hand them to Gavin.

MC: You mentioned finding some clues in your texts yesterday. What are they?

Gavin: According to the information obtained by the STF, the first letter should have been sent by Black Swan. But the sender of the second letter has already introduced himself. Looks like he has absolutely no intention of concealing his own identity.

I freeze for a moment. From what he’s saying, it seems to truly be the case.

The dream from last night surfaces in my mind. Did that black figure only dare to recklessly reveal his identity because he was in a dream?

Gavin: What are you thinking about?

After a moment of hesitation, I relate everything that happened in the dream yesterday to Gavin.

At first, there was a mysterious person who talked to me. Then, the person who investigated with me was someone else, and not Gavin.

Gavin’s expression turns increasingly serious. He silently returns the letters into the envelopes.

He casts a sharp gaze at the black coloured envelopes. After a relatively long time, he speaks.

Gavin: The first letter looks to be in line with the information gathered. An Evolver from Black Swan probably made you have that dream.

MC: But... it could also be a normal dream. After all, the Hollow incident took place in the past. Maybe it’s just a normal nightmare?

Gavin: Most of the coincidences in this world are man-made. Furthermore, people dream about uncertain things. That mysterious person appeared your dream and controlled it. Although we still don’t know his objective, you must definitely be careful.

Gavin pauses, the worry in his eyes already turning into an even sharper emotion.

Gavin: Whether it’s Hollow’s case or anything else, you must believe in your memories. You must believe that from the very beginning, the person by your side has always been me. And that I’ll always protect you.

His deep and soft promise descends on my ear, and the warmth that can make one be at ease fills my heart.

MC: Mm...

I make a soft sound of acknowledgement, taking up my chopsticks, attempting to use this action to conceal my rapid heartbeat.

After dinner at Lynn’s Kitchen, coupled with a lack of proper rest the previous night, I feel a little tired. Worried about my safety, Gavin sends me home.

When I’m about to bid him farewell at the door, I realise that Gavin’s eyes are on me.

MC: What is it?

Gavin: Maybe I should stay, and leave the investigative work to others.

I’m stunned for a while before realising what he means by “stay”. My cheeks grow warm. 

Seeing my reaction, the tips of his ears seem to turn red. However, his gaze remains on me, and he doesn’t look away.

MC: [blushing] Nothing should happen at home... T-there’s no need to be so worried about me.

Gavin peers into my house, and appears to give it serious consideration. After a while, he looks at me again.

Gavin: Got it, you must definitely be careful. I’ll continue investigating.

MC: You too. Be careful.

Gavin nods, not saying anything else. Turning to leave, he closes the door behind him.

As the sound of footsteps gradually fade, I take a small step forward, watching as Gavin disappears into a corner through the peephole. 

And I can vaguely sense that my cheeks are still red.

-

[ PART 7 ]

After returning home, I continue settling work matters. However, because I can’t set my mind at ease regarding those two letters, I start doing some investigation.

For this reason, I even specially take out Dad’s notebook, looking at the cursive “S” logo, hoping to find some clues from it. 

However, even when I feel as though I’m about to know the contents of the notebook at my fingertips, I still can’t find anything valuable.

Releasing a sigh, I'm just about to shut the notebook when the page I’m on attracts my attention.

MC: Eh... it seems...

What’s written here?

MC: “To keep in the same place”... It’s the Red Queen hypothesis... is there anything wrong with this statement? Also, this phrase is incomplete in the notebook.

Over the past few days, these terms have appeared far too many times. I lift my hand to rub my temples, then open the internet page on my phone.

Even after poring through conclusions pertaining to the Red Queen hypothesis, I can’t find other clues.

A notification altering me of a new e-mail breaks my train of thought. After responding to a work e-email, I notice that it’s already 11pm.

MC: ...time to rest.

With this thought in mind, fatigue overtakes me. I pack the mess on my desk, plopping onto the bed.

After turning off the lights in the room, only faint moonlight streams in. The surroundings are silent aside from my breathing and heartbeat.

For some inexplicable reason, despite being in an environment I couldn’t be more familiar with, and despite how incredibly soft the bed is, the unease in my heart grows increasingly thick, leaving me more and more awake in the night.

My eyes have already grown accustomed to the darkness. I subconsciously lift my eyes towards the bedside table, and see the two letters lying on it.

It’s as though a strange yet abnormal curse is oozing from the envelope, coiling around me.

Today... will there be another strange dream?

When this thought enters my mind, I instantly shake my head.

MC: Calm down, it’s just a dream. Nothing will happen...

Repeating this to myself, I think about how he had comforted me, and my heart gradually calms down.

Drowsiness once again returns to me. My eyelids grow a little heavy. I don't notice a tinge of oddness, and I slowly close my eyes.

The surroundings are pitch black, and there isn’t a single sound.

-

[ PART 8 ]

The entire world is filled with ginkgo leaves dancing in the air, making one feel as though he’s in a painting.

But the rustling ginkgo leaves do not fall to the ground, but vanish one they make contact with it, similar to melting snowflakes.

And that’s when I realise that this is a dream.

The genial wind whips the ginkgo leaves into a dance, but I’m the only one who is unable to feel the presence of wind. 

MC: Why...?

Puzzled, I take a few steps forward. The ginkgo leaves avoid me completely.

But in the next moment, one of the ginkgo leaves abruptly flies right in front of me.

I instinctively reach out to grab it.

All of a sudden, a strong wind blows, and tens of thousands of ginkgo leaves dance in the air like a curtain. The brilliant yellow colour separates me from the rest of the world.

After an unknown duration of time, the ginkgo leaves before me scatter, and I enter a different setting.

[ Background: Gavin’s House ]

This is a place I’m very familiar with.

A minimalist style, and the furnishings aren’t complicated.

MC: This is... Gavin’s house?

I blink, verifying that I’m not mistaken. Then, I see Gavin walking into my field of vision.

MC: Gavin?

I try calling his name softly, but he doesn’t seem to hear me at all, and continues busying himself with the work on hand.

MC: Looks like this isn’t reality either...

I can see Gavin, but he doesn’t see me. In this dream, I’m just an observer.

Gavin sits on the sofa. His amber eyes are filled with seriousness, and I can’t help but avert my gaze away from him.

He’s carefully approximating his strength, and it looks as though he’s making a guitar pick.

Gavin: Like this, it won’t hurt her hand when she plays the guitar.

MC: So he’s making it for me...

The stereo speaker continuously plays “Falling Slowly”, and time seems to have truly slowed down in this moment.

Watching Gavin’s sculpted and serious side profile, warmth flows over my heart.

After ensuring that there aren't any issues with the tip of the pick, Gavin stops what he’s doing, then picks up the document on the sofa.

Opening the yellow case folder, he retrieves the document inside it.

His gaze, which was tender and clear earlier, turns sharp once he sees the document.

He pinches the corner of the document tightly, as though firming his resolution regarding something.

MC: What is it? What’s that document? Why is Gavin displaying such an expression...

I can’t help but worry about Gavin, and I lean closer to see what exactly that document is about.

When he places the document down, and starts drawing the final design on the pick, I walk closer to that document and pick it up.

A few large words are written on it - NW Archive...

MC: NW...

Seeing this document, my heart stirs uneasily, and there seems to be some words hidden in it...

[ Player input: Conviction ]

MC: Conviction? The conviction that Gavin has been upholding... and the NW Project...

I grip the document to my chest tightly, the unease in my heart intensifying. When I return to my senses, I realise that Gavin is gone.

The entire house appears to have become shattered debris, disintegrating slowly. The bricks in the surroundings fall one by one.

MC: W-what’s happening...

Seeing that the floor beneath my feet is gradually disappearing, I step backwards, not wanting to sink into the darkness.

Another strong gust of wind blows past, encasing me tightly, and I instinctively close my eyes.

When I open them again, I find that I’m in another place.

[ Background: Rooftop ]

The bare rooftop is reminiscent of an endless ocean.

The wind on the TV tower is very strong, making it difficult to stand steadily.

The scent of rust in the air awakens distant memories. This is Loveland City’s TV tower.

Lifting my head to look at the tip of the TV tower, the indicator light isn’t flashing with the red light which signals danger.

MC: Looks like the switch to operate the electric waves has been turned off... So what comes next would be...

Before I can finish speaking, a strong sense of oddness overtakes my senses.

Even though I know that this should be a dream, why does it feel so real?

It’s exactly the same as how I felt before - even the lack of vigour and the strength to stand steadily.

Fatigued and without the strength to struggle, I let go and give in to this sense of powerlessness, once again sinking downwards.

[ Background: Black ]

My body has no support as it makes its rapid descent. The wind howls recklessly at my ear, as though announcing the end.

I close my eyes. In the midst of my trance, a familiar wind holds me up.

Sensations return to my limbs, and I can smell a thick scent of blood in my surroundings.

The rapid descent doesn’t stop, but the tears at the corners of my eyes are wiped away gently.

There’s a frantic voice at my ear, which is swallowed by the wind. He seems to be saying that he came late...

It’s him...

I know that Gavin’s here. He always selflessly rushes over to rescue me.

You’ve always been catching me... In every dangerous situation, in every moment hinging between life and death, it’s always been you...

A white tip flashes across the sky, closing in on me. At the end of the light is a long and slender hand.

I reach out towards him. In my half-clear vision, I see countless sheets of paper falling from the sky. Like a rain of paper, they pelt down.

In the wind, a sheet of paper falls in front of Gavin. I try my best to read the words on it. It’s Gavin’s file.

But what’s Gavin’s file doing here...

Without time to think about the logic of this dream, I see the badge on Gavin’s uniform giving off a different kind of light.

When the paper and the badge overlap, I see a word...

[ Player’s input: Compromise ]

MC: Compromise?

In the midst of the rapid descent, even more memories swarm out. 

The broken ginkgo bracelet, Gavin’s retreating back - these images flash across my mind one by one.

I want to tell him not to leave, but no sound arises from my throat.

Gavin: I’ll accompany you till the very end. 

I want so desperately to hug him tight. Before greeting the fall, tens of thousands of ginkgo leaves fly up from the ground, catching us, and then leave.

The bright yellow ginkgo leaves whizz past me. When the final ginkgo leaf scatters, I realise that I’m in a different place.

[ Background: Road ]

I know where this is. 

The road before me seems to stretch on without an end. One side has a cliff, and the other is a precipice next to the sea.

I can see Gavin’s face, and can even see the broken ginkgo bracelet in his hand.

It’s as though I’ve sunk into an ice block. Memories bury me like a tide, rendering me unable to speak.

Gavin: The bracelet is broken. Wait for me. I’ll fix it for you when I get back.

No... don’t go...

I want to speak, but no sound comes out. I can only look at Gavin’s face, trying to capture that faint smile on his lips as he pretends to be relaxed.

Gavin releases me gently, getting up and walking towards the group of people.

I know what will happen next. I know it crystal clearly. Just like all the secrets that have been concealed, he’s once again agreed to something he was unwilling to go for because of me.

A man dressed in military attire stands at the front of the formation. I struggle to hear their conversation, but only fragmented phrases enter my ears.

Man: Go back with me and accept the NW Project.

Gavin: ...you’ll keep her safe?

Don’t... compromise because of me...

I struggle to get up, but fall down heavily. Only a weak sob escapes my throat.

Why... do I have to go through that again...

I shut my eyes in despair, unable to bear seeing the back of that person who is disappearing into the crowd.

[ Background: Darkness ]

In the darkness, there’s a sound of a gunshot. Soon after, there’s the sound of beeping machinery.

What...?

[ Background: Research facility ]

As my vision becomes clearer, I see all sorts of machinery.

Countless people dressed in white one-piece uniforms are carrying out their final preparations.

In the middle of the large space, in the middle of countless data and catheters, is Gavin.

Man: Are you ready?

Gavin: Yes.

Is this the NW Project? Is this what Gavin experienced after we parted ways?

MC: [crying] Gavin, no!

Uncontrollable tears flow from my eyes. I want to put an end to everything, but here, I’m just an observer. Everyone and everything are unable to sense my existence.

Gavin: Wait for me.

Man: It’s almost done.

A man’s voice drifts from the side. I turn my head, and my breathing halts.

Gavin is quiet and has his eyes closed. A cold light slowly beams downwards from his chest region.

The fluctuating lines on the electrocardiogram grow slower. With a sudden tremor, it eventually turns into a flat line.

MC: [crying] Gavin... Gavin...

I stagger forwards, my hands pressed against the cold glass, tears streaming continuously. 

MC: [crying] Why... did this happen...

The beeping from the machinery can clearly be heard, and my vision turns increasingly hazy.

Mist fills my eyes. I bite my lower lip, hammering forcefully against the glass wall.

The sound causes me to tremble beyond my imagination. I squat on the floor, covering my cheeks as though I’m crumbling.

Always like this... making a promise not to get hurt, not to lie to me, but always...

MC: [crying] Getting hurt because of me...

Bitter tears slide to the sides of my mouth, but the bitterness in my heart is even more difficult to bear.

It’s as though aside from this pain, I can feel nothing else.

A dark mist curls into the surroundings, coiling around me, and seems to be invading my consciousness.

Uncontrolled negative emotions encase me, and even guide me to a conclusion that I’m unwilling to admit. 

Maybe... if I weren’t around... Gavin wouldn't have...

My mind is in a state of disarray, and I contemplate in despair.

MC: [crying] If he never met me, Gavin wouldn’t be in danger again and again. He’d be able to continue firmly in his convictions, and wouldn’t have to compromise because of me... 

MC: Because he met me...

The dark mist grips my consciousness. I can only mutter and repeat these words, lowering my head.

At this moment, a low chuckle drifts within the depths of the darkness.

-

[ PART 9 ]

From an endless space, that figure in black suddenly appears before me.

He stares into my eyes, his tone profound as he speaks softly, as though untangling the confusion in my heart.

??: You actually know it yourself. What you saw was completely real. it’s what exists in the deepest parts of his memories.

His voice makes me realise that the person before me is the mysterious man who appeared in my dream from before.

Affected by his Evol, my movements are slow as I lift my eyes to look at him. However, I can’t see face underneath the black robe.

MC: So... you deliberately let me see them? What are you plotting?

??: Letting you see the truth is a plot? Or rather, does it feel very painful to see the true you?

Lowering his head, his voice is wilful as they reach my ears. Along with his voice, the black mist in my surroundings grows increasingly thick - so thick that I can’t think on my own.

??: The reason why you think your peaceful life is an illusion is because there’s someone who has been shouldering the pain. But once you forget everything, it’d no longer be painful. It’d just be like how it was before. You’ll have absolutely no idea about what happened, and you can continue living in a carefree manner.

I can't help but crane my neck upwards, looking into that pair of eyes that are covered by the black robe.

??: As long as you’re willing, you won’t just forget about them. They wouldn’t even have happened. The world can be relived. As long as you forget everything, you can welcome a new life. The world and the future will also welcome a new turn, and the past and future will be rewritten.

His tone is abnormally certain. His low and quiet voice is reminiscent of a meandering, venomous snake wrapping itself around an apple, bringing with it a bewitching and strange power.

My consciousness seems to be influenced by this voice, and it starts slackening out of my control.  

Even though I try to flee from such control, the dark mist around me is thick, and my thoughts are compelled to melt away into it.

MC: Including... his destiny?

??: Yes.

When he says his, I finally catch the glint in his eyes. It’s as though I can own this new future.

??: This isn’t just for yourself. It’s also for that person, and for the entire world.

MC: I’m not that noble. I just...

I’m unable to speak. I turn my head, looking towards the place which flashed with countless images earlier, as though waiting for a certain answer.

That person in the black robe follows my line of sight. Aside from a speck of light in the darkness, there’s nothing else.

??: Is such a past worth reminiscing? Come with me to the new world.

The man reveals an expression showcasing his determination to win, and I finally let go of my thoughts, mumbling in agreement. 

MC: I...

At the same time, that faint light flashes for a moment. It seems to be calling me, and telling me not to enter that darkness.

I instinctively step towards the speckle of light. The images within the light become clearer. When I see that person’s figure, my heart beats like a drum.

[ Background: Shopping Mall ]

In the bustling shopping mall, I can instantly see Gavin’s straight figure.

He’s looking around the shop, displaying a rare, perplexed expression.

Is he... choosing a gift for me?

Minor: Bro Gavin, need me to give you a suggestion?

Gavin: No need.

Minor: Don’t be like that, Bro Gavin! I really have some exclusive information! Boss has been reading Byron’s Poetry Collection recently, and I specially bought you copy too. Take a look at it. Maybe it could start a conversation topic. How is it, Bro Gavin? Not bad, right?

The moment Gavin accepts the poetry book from Minor, the phone in his pocket suddenly vibrates. 

After a short dialogue, Gavin hangs up, his expression solemn.

Gavin: There’s a sudden mission. I’lll be leaving now.

Minor: So sudden yet again... What about the gift for Boss?

Gavin holds the poetry book, looking as though he’s flipping through it randomly. But he flips to a specified page with familiarity.

Gavin: I’ll give her a bookmark, and will make it myself.

Minor: I knew my information was definitely useful! Bro Gavin, don’t worry, I promise to keep my mouth shut, and won’t disclose anything to Boss! Bro Gavin, take care! Wishing you a smooth trip!

With a slight nod, Gavin takes brisk steps towards the exit, and even his back displays a resolute determination.

Because he’s operating a classified mission, Gavin removes his badge, and sandwiches it temporarily in the poetry book. 

His expression is firm, as though the glittering light from the badge and poetry book are filled with the thing he wishes to protect. 

Seeing Gavin’s determined profile, emotions course through my heart.

In a trance, I look at the badge and the page of poetry in his hand, and discover a phrase...

[ Player’s input: Quietly Protecting ]

MC: Quietly protecting...

When I see this phrase, Gavins voice seems to float to my ear.

“I will always protect you.”

This phrase is reminiscent of a switch, igniting memories from the deepest parts of my soul.

Before my eyes, many images appear. Gavin teaching me how to use a gun, fighting alongside him in the depths of the snow mountain, and the vow I made...

He always appears when I need him the most, giving me the most thorough protection. There’s never been an exception.

MC: I want to protect you too...

I’m struck with more and more memories. Like a warm ray of light, they seem to dispel the black mist and haze coiling in my mind. 

The faint light flickers once more, releasing a scintillating white light, pulling me away from these images.

MC: I can’t forget...

??: What did you say?

The black-robed man lowers his voice, the air morphing into a shapeless pressure, weighing me down.

I lift my head, staring at those depthless eyes, repeating myself.

MC: I said that I can’t forget.

Whether they are his sacrifices, his protection, or that fetter, I can’t forget them.

Because it’s never been solely about him. Trust, protection, and everything else - these are two-way streets, and our relationship can’t be discarded that easily.

Gavin has done so much for me. How could I alleviate my guilt by forgetting everything?

As though sensing my thoughts, a ray of light suddenly appears from the depths of the darkness. 

A gust of wind blows from that direction. A paper plane flies in the midst of rustling ginkgo leaves, guiding me.

And that familiar voice sounds at my ear softly. 

Gavin: MC.

My vision seems to turn hazy due to the mist, but I still smile, exerting my strength to lunge towards the light.

-

[ PART 10 ]

At the end of the light, a blurred figure slowly grows clearer.

Opening my eyes and seeing the figure, my limbs move faster than my brain, and I give him a tight embrace.

Gavin seems to be a little surprised. His back tenses for a moment, but he soon relaxes.

Familiar and warm palms gently land on my back.

Returning the embrace, the soft strands of his hair brush against my ear.

Gavin: Everything’s all right now. Don't be afraid.

I don’t say anything. Shaking my head, I do my best to suppress my tears.

Gavin lapses into silence, lifting his hand to pat me on the head. His voice becomes even gentler.

Gavin: I’ve handled those two letters. They were a medium for the Evolver to control dreams. 

MC: Mm...

I make a muffled sound of acknowledgement. Slightly reluctant, I let go of Gavin, staring at him deeply. 

He returns my gaze, his eyes sparkling. He lift a hand to rub the corner of my eye.

Gavin: Don’t be afraid, it’s all right now. I’ll protect you.

I freeze for a moment, then shake my head furiously, gripping his hand.

MC: M-me too...

Gavin: What? 

He looks at me with slight confusion. After hesitating for a while, I decide not to say anything, simply holding his hand even more tightly.

I’ll also do my best to protect you.

Just as what you’ve always been doing, I’ll strive to ensure you won’t get hurt, and do my best to become your shield.

With such a thought, I feel a burning sensation in my nose.

I can’t help but reach out once again, wrapping my arms around Gavin.

His hugs always leave one feeling incomparably at ease. The warm breaths at my ear make my eyes flutter shut instinctively.

There’s still a long time in the future. As long as Gavin is around...

We can definitely rely on each other, and walk to the end.

MC: But, Gavin, how did you realise that I was in a dream...

Gavin: I couldn’t contact you, so I came in and found you in an unconscious state. Sorry, similar things won’t happen again in the future.

MC: But... nobody opened the door for you. Did you come in through the window again?

Gavin: Mm, it was an urgent situation. 

Seeing Gavin’s expression, I can’t help but chuckle softly.

MC: Well... I wonder if you’ll “happen” to have time today. I want to stay with you for a little longer.

Gavin is slight stunned. A handsome smile surfaces on his lips, and his voice is even more tender than the breeze outside the window.

Gavin: I do. Whatever you want to do, I’ll accompany you.

-

Ever since that day, life returned to its usual tranquility. Most of the major things were related to work.

MC: I’m finally done!

Raising my hands and doing a stretch, I look at the densely packed document, pressing the “save” button in satisfaction and then writing an e-mail.

The time displayed on the bottom left states that it’s almost the end of the working day. Turning the laptop off, I begin packing my belongings.

Kiki walks in, gaze filled with envy.

Kiki: Boss, are you getting off work? 

MC: Mm. I’ve already sent the proposal to your e-mail. There’s still enough time to look through them tomorrow, so I’ll be leaving now.

The moment I finish speaking, the phone on my desk vibrates. 

Picking up the call, I look out the window at the same time.

A familiar voice drifts from the other end of the line, and there’s a person standing underneath the shade of trees, waiting for me.

MC: I’ll be there soon.

I grab my bag and head downstairs.

💙 Note: I won’t be doing translations of the plot for the other love interests!

💙 Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

[queen-scribbles]

The Answer

15. loosely holding onto each other’s hands, laying in one’s lap [Cam/Liam]

-----

The vid was done, credits scrolling up the screen, but neither of them felt like moving to turn it off. The couch was too comfy, they’d found the perfect position, and moving would jostle free their hands, loosely tangled together in Cam’s lap.

“This was nice,” she mumbled, head leaned back on Liam’s shoulder and eyes closed. She sounded more than halfway asleep and he couldn’t really blame her. The Initiative asked a lot of its Pathfinders, even now that things were settling down.

“Yeah, it was,” he agreed lazily, brushing his thumb along the edge of her hand. “Glad you got to take a break.”

“I may’ve threatened to quit if they didn’t give me at least one night this week to hang out with my boyfriend,” Cam deadpanned, eyes still closed.

Liam laughed. “Oh, great, so now Addison and Tann will be blaming me for you shirking.”

“If they do, I’ll kick their asses.” She snuggled closer, almost defiantly. “It’s not shirking to want a night off once in a while.”

“True.” He tilted his head to kiss her temple. “Thanks for spendin’ it with me.”

“Anytime, Kosta.” She really was falling asleep. And the weight of her head on his shoulder was making him drowsy, too. Not that he minded in the slightest.  “Nowhere else I wanna be, you’re good comp’ny.”

“Thanks, Ryder, so’re you.” He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back and they lapsed into silence. It lasted long enough Liam wondered if she’d fallen asleep on the couch and was resigned to doing the same rather than risk waking her.

“...This is nice,” Cam mumbled. Not asleep after all.

“You said that already,” Liam pointed out with a smile.

“It bears repeating,” she retorted, a note of indignation under the words and sounded a little more awake when she added, “Wish we could stay like this forever...”

“...What if we could?” The comfortable drowsiness had his filter letting thoughts become spoken.

Cam snorted. “Don’t think anyone would appreciate us stayin’ on this couch forever, Kosta.”

“Not that part,” Liam chuckled, waggling their joined hands. “The together bit.”

She rubbed her thumb over his. “You really think I have any plans for changes to that part?”

“No.” I might... “Cam?”

“Mm?” she grunted, still lazily tracing his thumb with hers.

He was too content, too happy (too in love) to measure the words before they tumbled out. “Marry me?”

Cam instantly stilled. Not even breathing.

And in that terrifying, too-honest moment of silence, Liam had just enough time to start kicking himself for jumping the gun and doing it wrong before she twisted around and sat up.

“What?!” she demanded, hands and knees braced against the weathered couch and face less than a foot from his. He could’ve counted her freckles. Or the small flecks of brown in her eyes. If he wasn’t distracted. 

Shit. Shit. He hadn’t been planning to do that now. He didn’t have the ring on him(hidden deep in his stuff), he hadn’t even properly finished writing the question(nothing was good enough for her). But he’d said it.

And he’d meant it.

And sure, this hadn’t been the plan, but the two of them rarely stuck with plans, anyway. So Liam tilted his head to meet Cam’s eye and asked again, more deliberately, “Marry me?”

Cam stared at him for a moment that seemed longer than it was with The Question hanging between them. Then she launched herself forward with a whooped “YES!!!” just before she crashed into him, arms around his neck as she kissed him repeatedly, an enthusiastically mumbled ‘yes!’ punctuating each one.

Liam laughed, giddy with relief, and wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her from falling off the couch as he kissed her back. Again and again and again.

She finished with one last emphatic kiss, her hands bracketing his face, and pulled back tip the tips of their noses just barely touched. “Yes.”

“Good,” Liam chuckled sheepishly, tipping his chin up to kiss the tip of her nose. “Knocks out any worry with this being sooner than planned.”

Cam grinned and sat back on her heels. “Oh, so there was a plan that didn’t involve springing it out of the blue and almost givin’ me a heart attack?” she asked playfully.

“I don’t think you wanna go there,” he shot back just as playfully, arching a brow at her. “Giving the love of my life a heart attack isn’t really a category where you have a leg to stand on, Camille.”

“Point,” she laughed, settling back in her previous position against his shoulder. “So, did you? Have a plan?”

“Yeah,” Liam said with a smile as he draped that arm around her and she linked their hands again, loosely tangled and resting on her stomach. “Dinner, a picnic but nice, somewhere with a good view. Meridian, or Aya. Or that arch on Eos.”

“Our arch?” There was a smile in her voice.

“You know it,” he confirmed with a small smile of his own. “At sunset, for the colors. And I was workin’ on the question, planning to ask it prettier, like you deserve. More words-”

“Get choked up halfway through askin’?” Cam asked mischievously, toying with his fingers in her lap.

Liam huffed another laugh. “Prob’ly, yeah. You know me.”

“And I love ya.” There was a pause, and when he looked down in the silence she was staring at her hand, the one not tangled with his. “...Is there a ring?”

“Mmhm. With my stuff. Third drawer, in the Nellis Prime OSD case. I’ll get it when we go to bed.”

“Aw, babe.” Cam gave a happy little wiggle as she snuggled even closer. “That sounds really beautiful, Liam.” She tilted her head up to shoot a glance at him.  “The answer woulda been the same there, too.”

“We can still do the dinner part, if you want,” Liam said. “To celebrate.”

“I like the sound of that.” She sighed contentedly. “For now, I think I wanna fall asleep on top of my fiancé” --a massive grin at him-- “s’long as he’s okay with that.”

Liam kissed the top of her head. “Beyond okay with it, but won’t we be more comfortable doing it in your bed than here?”

“You’re just full of good ideas tonight,” Cam teased.

“I was due eventually,” Liam joked, and her snort of laughter in response was one of the best sounds in this or any galaxy. They untangled themselves and stood, and she pulled him down into another kiss almost immediately.

“I love you, Liam Kosta,” she murmured against his lips, hands clasped behind his neck.

“I love you, too, Cam Ryder,” he replied, hands settled on her hips. 

Cam stole another kiss as he turned off the vidscreen then stepped back, slipping her hand in his to tug him after her. Liam grinned and followed, like he had since the day they met.

There was nowhere he’d rather be.

---

(look if it hadn’t gone down like this, it woulda been like that guy who photobombed his gf with the ring for six months or whatever before actually proposing bc that’s bigtime Liam Kosta energy right there)

[nightshade-minho]

-To Sub or Not To Sub 2-

Warnings: dom!Chan, dom!Felix, double penetration (anal+vaginal), anal play, use of butt plug, blowjob, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie (because when have I ever written something without one), 1 spanky spank, dirty talk, degradation, Daddy!kink, Sir!kink.

The sunlight filtering in through the window was so bright that it woke you up- or so you thought, before your sleepy brain finally registered the fingers rubbing along your damp pussy.

You opened your eyes to see Felix’s face right in front of you, watching as your mouth opened to let out a moan. However, the fingers inside you weren’t his- you pressed your back further against the man stroking you, eyes lidded.

“Chan...”

“Yes, babygirl?” You heard the voice behind you, shuddering as his fingers glided over your clit.

You wanted his fingers inside of you, but you knew asking would only get you punished.

Felix smiled at you. “Yesterday was fun, wasn’t it?”

Yesterday.

Everything had happened so fast. Your roles in this relationship had been dramatically rearranged, and now you had two doms to deal with. You had been so sure that Chan would punish Felix...you’d never expected this outcome.

Your pussy was still slightly sore from yesterday’s events, but you still wanted to be filled. You couldn’t help it- just one touch by Chan and you’d be putty in his fingers, eager to be his little cockslut. And it didn’t help that now Felix had leaned in to suck on your neck sloppily, just as Chan finally slipped his fingers inside you.

You let out a sigh as he thrusted his fingers in and out slowly.

“Do you know what we’re gonna do today?”

“Mm...what we do every day?”

A chuckle. “Well, yes. But this time it’s gonna be different, isn’t it?”

Felix pulled away at that, an evil smile on his face as he pressed a kiss to your lips.

Chan started sucking on the back of your neck, causing you to jolt in pleasure, his fingers pumping in and out of you.

“I didn’t get to have you last night, even though it was our anniversary. Felix here, however, had his fill. So today, he’s gonna help me wreck you.”

His fingers pulled out, going back to stroking your slit. You whined in despair, and Felix tsked.

“We really need to stuff this mouth shut, don’t we Chan?”

“Why, yes we do, Felix. In fact, I think you can take care of that.”

“Now, does my baby want her daddy’s mouth or fingers?”

“B-both...?”

Felix chuckled as he shifted, ridding himself of his underwear and sitting up in bed. “Greedy whore.”

You frowned at that. “I’m not a whore, Lix.”

A slap to your ass made you yelp, and you looked back at Chan, who had an angry expression on his face.

“First of all, you are indeed our whore. And second, you are to address Felix as Sir. Remember your place.”

You whined again. Chan lifted his hands off your hip and sat up, pulling you up along with him. He tapped your thigh, and you immediately got on all fours and crawled towards Felix. “You ready?”

You nodded. “Yes, Sir.” He smirked as he inserted his cock into your mouth, immediately setting a brutal pace.

As Felix fucked your throat, you felt Chan rummaging around in the bedside drawer. A minute later, you felt his lube-covered fingers on your anus. He rubbed your rim slowly, and you shuddered.

“Now, babygirl...do you want the sapphire butt plug or the silver one?”

Felix slowed down his actions, letting you off his cock so you could answer. “The...the gem one, Daddy.” You paused. “Please,” you added.

“Good choice. Baby’s ass always looks so pretty with this in.”

You were about to reply when Felix shoved his cock back into you, going deeper as he thrusted ruthlessly.

You felt the cold metal of the butt plug against your lubed anus, and moaned around Felix as Chan slowly pushed it in.

“There. Now your cute little hole’s all ready for me to slip in later.”

Chan moved off the bed, and you heard him ridding himself of his clothes. You were glad that you had fallen asleep naked, since you didn’t have the patience to pause for even a minute.

Felix moaned deeply. “I’m...gonna cum, y/n. And you’re gonna swallow every drop.”

You couldn’t reply even if you wanted to, as he pushed himself so far down your throat that you gagged as he came.

He pulled out halfway through, resulting in cum dripping out of your mouth and down your chin. Chan was back now, and he patted Felix on the shoulder proudly when he caught a glimpse of your cum-stained face.

You saw Felix smile shyly, before shaking his head as he looked back down at you, his eyes regaining its menacing look.

Hmm. That got you thinking. Felix seemed to still have a little subbiness left in him, judging from the way the slightest bit of praise from Chan made him excited.

What if...you tried to get the power back from Felix? If you successfully managed to completely dom him and throw him into subspace, Chan would redirect his pride to you, and you might even get rewarded!

With a newfound objective in mind, you licked your lips, gathering a bit of cum dripping off your chin and sticking your finger inside your mouth. You kept eye contact with Felix as you twirled your tongue around your fingertip slyly. He raised an eyebrow and ignored you, looking back at Chan who had gone behind you. Ugh. You had to step up your game.

“Lie down here, y/n, in the same position we woke up in.”

You obeyed Chan immediately, moving so the three of you were lying down. Chan lifted your thigh and made you put it over Felix so that he could get easier access to your ass. Felix gripped the underside of your thigh. You were quite happy with this position- it meant Chan wouldn’t be able to see what you were trying to do to Felix.

You felt Chan pull out the butt plug slightly before pushing it back in, repeating this motion a few times before completely pulling it out. He put it back on the table and turned back to you, pressing the head of his cock against your tight hole.

You scrunched your eyes shut as Chan pushed all the way in. “Fuck, you’re so tight...babygirl, your holes belong to us and us only, understood?”

You nodded desperately. Suddenly you felt fingers along your pussy. Felix grinned at you as his fingers slipped between your folds, rubbing you incessantly. Your breath caught in your throat, but you tried to focus on the task at hand.

Your hand reached down and you grabbed Felix’s half-hard cock, stroking it up and down quickly and roughly. You knew Chan’s intentions were for Felix to fuck your pussy at the same time as Chan did your asshole, which is why he had you in this position. If Felix were to cum embarrassingly early, he wouldn’t be able to get hard again and therefore would ruin Chan’s plans, effectively making you the favourite again...this thought alone made you speed up.

Unfortunately, Felix reached down to grab your hand and pull it away from his erection, all with that infuriating smirk stuck on his face.

“Chan, I’m afraid our tiny little slut’s getting a bit cocky. I think she’s forgetting her place again.”

“Well, Felix...why don’t you teach her a lesson?”

Felix grinned. “Gladly.”

In less than a second, Felix shoved his cock into your soaked cunt just as Chan delivered another powerful thrust, pushing you forward into Felix’s chest a bit...which made him go even deeper. You let out a choked moan as Felix’s fingers went to your clit, rubbing on it as Chan kept up his pace.

“What a stupid little girl. When will you learn? I’m your master now, bitch. Got that?”

You felt tears prick at your eyes as the two of them rammed into you incessantly. Chan’s hands came up to cup your boobs, as Felix drew figures on your clit faster. You couldn’t handle it. You came suddenly and without warning, fucked hard throughout your entire orgasm. Thankfully, the two of them came at the same time, not noticing you cum before them. You panted as you recovered from your high.

Felix pulled out before Chan, a finger leaning down to gather some cum from your pussy, pressing it between your lips. You sucked his finger obediently and he smiled. You felt Chan pull out a minute later, sighing. You felt warm, full and happy.

Chan kissed your neck. “Let’s go back to sleep for a while. I’m sure we’re all tired.”

You nodded, feeling the ache in your pussy. Chan wrapped his arms around you and started snoring almost immediately.

Felix giggled. “This is probably the first time I’ve seen him fall asleep before us.”

You yawned and grinned. “Ha, true.”

Felix smiled softly, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, Lix. And Chan, of course.”

“Darn right.” You heard Chan say, his arms tightening around you. You heard Felix laugh and accuse Chan of tricking him again as you felt sleep overtake your senses.

You felt truly happy, sandwiched between these two men who loved you with their whole heart.

[for-fucks-sake-h]

As You Held Onto Me - Five

a/n: Hiiiii! Welcome to the final chapter of ayhom! I’m SO excited to finally be sharing this with you. It’s been a long time coming. Huge, huge, HUGE, thank you for my loves for supporting me through this story @idk-who-she-is​ @andwhenshesays​ @oh-honey-styles​ I couldn’t have done it without you. And to anyone that celebrated today - Happy Mother’s Day 🌸you’re amazing and deserve the world! Alright babes, I hope you all enjoy this! xx   

CATCH UP ON PREVIOUS PARTS HERE

Rated: M, mature // Word Count: 4.9k 

Sometimes, love can feel like it’s everything. And sometimes, we hope it can be.

*** 

- Friday, September 27, 2030 -

You turned the shower’s water off, messily shaking your hand through your sopping hair as you slid the glass door open with your other hand and grabbed your hair wrap off the hook.  You were quick to flip your head upside down, twisting the cotton towel around your hair and securing it at the nape of your neck.  Your heart was fluttering the tiniest bit as you grabbed the plush bath towel to dry yourself off.  Lotion was hastily applied as you stood at your bathroom counter, and some oil was frivolously smoothed through your hair, your towels discarded in a ball next to your feet, deciding you could take care of them later.  

You were eager to join the party down the hall.  

With a pep in your step, you flicked your ensuite light off and made quick work of throwing on the first pair of shorts from your pj drawer, your sopping hair clinging to the material of an old, worn out Kiss shirt of Harry’s that you had conveniently confiscated years ago. And with some fuzzy socks quickly pulled on, you headed to the room at the end of the hallway, laughter becoming more prominent the closer you got.  

You already felt like your heart was in your throat as you paused at the door, slowly creeping it open as discreetly as you could.  The vision in front of you never got old.

Their laughter was infectious, practically identical in the way their noses creased and dimples etched into their cheeks. They sat on the bed, side by side as they both leaned back against the headboard, ankles crossed in the same way, most likely laughing at one of Harry’s horrible jokes.  They weren’t horrible to her though. No - to her, they held the moon in the sky.  

“Finally,” Harry chuckled when he noticed you.  

You shot him a look, one that he’d been on the receiving end of plenty of times throughout the years, and one that had a slight curl of your lips that you desperately tried to keep at bay as you walked over to them.  

“Hi, mommy!”  

You leaned down to kiss her head before sitting on the bed beside her, intertwining your arms as she rested her head on your shoulder.  

“Hi, love. Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah! How was yours? We missed you!”    

This was what you lived for - getting home after a long day to spend the evening with your two favorite people.  

“Good, happy to be home.”  You kissed her head once more, your eyes flicking up to meet Harry’s, a warm smile spread across his face.  “What have you two been up to?”  

“We got some stuff for tonight, didn’t we baby?” Harry nodded at your daughter, encouraging her to share.  

“We got face masks,” she beamed at you as you dropped your mouth open in excitement. “And daddy picked out a yellow nail polish.”  

“Did he now?” You smiled, warmth encasing your heart at how happy she looked.

“Yeah! We were just waiting for you,” she nodded, her eyes fluttering fondly as Harry kissed the back of her head.  

“Go grab them, love.” He nodded with a smirk pulling at his lips.

She was quick to crawl down to the bottom of the bed, practically skipping out of her room.

“Where’s she going?” You laughed.  

“They’re refrigerated face masks, love. All the rage.”  

“Ah, I see.”  You smiled, taking in his ruffled hair and soft hoodie, the thin layer of facial hair that scattered across his jaw and upper lip.  

He leaned down onto one elbow, inching himself closer to you. “We missed you.”

You breathed out through your nose as you ran the backs of your knuckles across his jaw, leaning down until you could rest your forehead on his. “Missed you too. I’m just glad she still wants to do this,” you admitted softly.

“Me too, baby.”  

He extended his neck enough to softly slant his mouth over yours.  He was warm and tasted like the honey you knew he put in the tea they had while you were still at work.  With one last kiss to the corner of your mouth, he pulled away, chucking two fingers under your chin.

He was gone way too soon, leaving you blinking at him as your daughter entered the room. Harry must have heard her coming and didn’t want to get caught.  He was the one that got yelled at for “always being all over mommy” after all.  The thought made you smile fondly as you watched your daughter set up the nail polish, some nail art stickers, the face masks and even a small bowl of M&M’s for you to snack on.  

“Can’t believe my baby’s gonna be ten years old tomorrow,” you shook your head in disbelief.  

She crossed her feet under her legs before smiling up at you, “Don’t cry, mommy.”  

“I’m not gonna cry,” you scoffed.  

They laughed in unison, the same boisterous laugh escaping their mouths at the same time. And you couldn’t help but laugh too as you blinked the tears from your eyes, enamored with the life you and Harry had created.  

Every year, you had spent the night before her birthday as just the three of you, even when she was too young to remember.  It was your tradition, one of many that your little family had created over the years.  As she got older, she started requesting new things; coloring night,  movie night, game night - and tonight, spa night.  It was special to you, and you knew it was special to her and Harry too.  

“What should we talk about?” Harry asked as he extended his left hand onto his daughter's knee as she opened the nail polish jar.  

“When you asked mommy to marry you,” she smiled brightly.  

Harry laughed, watching as she carefully painted the yellow polish on his first finger. “How many times can you hear that story!”

She giggled softly before her eyebrows crinkled in concentration, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, the same way Harry’s did.  “Hmm, okay when you first met? Or when you told grandmom and grandpop you wanted to live together!” She rattled off stories you’d told her numerous times, her eyes trained on neatly painting her dad's nails.  

“How about a new one?” You suggested.  

You looked over at Harry, a smile pulling at his lips as he chimed in, “Yeah, was thinking when you were born?”

***

- Tuesday, September 28, 2020 -

It was like you could see the bright overhead lights before you even opened your eyes.  You blinked slowly, adjusting to the harshness and groggily taking in your surroundings.  A warm bed, soft socks, a faint beeping sound - it all started filtering into your senses as you came to.  It was almost blissful, being unaware and waking up to a fresh day.  

Except reality started to quickly set in and your heart rate began piterpattering as your eyes focused in on the band that wrapped around your waist and the dopplers that were attached to the sides of your belly.  You suddenly felt way too warm.  The blanket laying across your legs felt suffocating, the hospital gown itchy against your skin.

But the machine to your right - the one with the beeping, tracking your daughters heart rate - that settled you.    

“Hey, welcome back,” Jess smiled as she checked the machines you were hooked up to.  “Gave us a nice scare.”  

“What happened?” you spoke roughly, your voice cracking around your dry throat.  

“You passed out. You were dehydrated, babe.”  

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“And your blood pressure is through the roof…”  

“Fuck,” you breathed out again. “Preeclampsia?”  

She hummed in response as she sat on the edge of your bed.  “You’re okay, Dr. Wood is here. She already has you on the magnesium and everything looks okay so far.”  

“How long do we have until she has to come out?”  

Preeclampsia; a pregnancy complication characterized by high blood pressure that, if not treated, can lead to organ damage.  And the only treatment is to not be pregnant. So you knew your baby was coming out sooner rather than later. Magnesium; a drug used to prevent seizures in women with preeclampsia, could only be administered for so long.    

“She’ll be in to talk to you soon, but they want to get you on Pitocin right away, see if it can jump start you into labor. They don’t want to mess around with it babe.”  

You sighed, already anticipating that answer. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Is she okay? Charts look alright?”  

“She’s doing great,” Jess smiled, squeezing your hand reassuringly.  

You released a deep breath, settling back into your pillow more. “Shit... did you call Harry?”  

“He’s on his way,” she nodded.  

You relaxed a bit more just knowing he would be with you soon.  And as if his ears were burning, your hospital room door burst open and your frazzled husband eagerly stormed into the room.  

“Christ baby! You okay?” He rushed as he practically power walked to the side of your bed, sitting down parallel to Jess. “Hey, Jess,” he shot her a quick glance and a smile before bringing his worried eyes back to your face.    

She laughed as she stood, squeezing your hand once more. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”  

“I’m okay,” you chuckled as Jess pulled your door closed, taking in Harry’s messy hair and creased brows.  “Was dehydrated. Passed out,” you chuckled. “And... I have preeclampsia.”

His warm hand cupped your cheek, fingers tucking behind your neck as his eyes flitted across your face. “Shit, babe. What does that mean?”  

“They’re gonna induce me.”

He nodded as he processed what you were saying. “When?”

“Now,” you smiled.  “It’s okay,” you breathed when his eyes widened.

His other hand went to your belly, fingers spreading across the roundest part. “Is she okay?”  

“Mhm. She’ll be a couple weeks early, but she’s okay. I’m considered full term.” 

“Shit, so she could come today?”  

You nodded. “That’s what we’re hoping for. It’s not ideal, but we’ll be okay.”  

He quickly leaned forward to awkwardly wrap himself around you in a hug, his face tucked into your neck.  You scratched his back with the hand that wasn’t attached to an IV, breathing in the scent of his hair.  He eased you in a way you couldn’t explain.  He didn’t even have to do anything, he just had to be.  

“Well fuck, we can be excited then? Right?” His voice was muffled as he spoke into your neck, his breath tickling you just so.  

You hummed and nodded against his cheek, suddenly feeling your throat tighten with emotion.  You’d waited so long for this to happen, and now it finally was, in the most overwhelming way possible. But you were excited to meet this tiny human that you already loved more than you ever thought was possible.      

His hand gripped the side of your neck again, his lips finding yours with practiced ease. His taste warmed you from the outside in, completely infiltrating your senses as his soft lips caressed yours.  You could feel him start to smile into the kiss, a small snicker escaping his throat as his fingers flexed into the back of your neck.  

When he pulled back, all you could focus on were his glassy green eyes, knowing your own eyes mirrored his.  

“It’s happening, baby.”  He spoke softly as you traced your thumb across his bottom lip.    

You couldn’t stop the smile from pulling at your lips, your eyes watering even more before you tugged him closer to rest your forehead against his.  

***

Twelve hours.  That’s how long you’d been induced before anything started to happen.  It was a slow process.  And even though you figured it would be, it still left the tiniest bit of anxiety to sit on your chest.  

Your body was not ready to give birth, having two weeks left until your due date, so it fought the Pitocin until it literally couldn’t anymore.  And you fought against the contractions the medicine brought on for as long as you could before raising the white flag and asking for the epidural, which you also knew could possibly slow down the process even more. 

Hours passed as you sat at one centimeter.  Every time your doctor came in to check, you held your breath in the hopes of progressing, just to be let down over and over.  You’d started to discuss the possibility of needing a c-section.  If your body didn’t want to let the baby out on it’s own, she was going to have to be taken by force.  

It was a little past 8pm and you were passing time with Law and Order repeats, the only saving grace available on the hospital television, when Dr. Wood knocked.  

“Okay, YN. It’s that time again,” she spoke softly as she sanitized her hands before pulling the latex gloves on.  

Harry muted the TV from where he sat next to you, a chair pulled over to the bed to sit right next to your head so he could play with your hair.  

Dr. Wood made quick work to check your cervix as you and Harry both waited with bated breath.  And then her eyes lit up.  

“Four centimeters.”  

“Oh thank god,” you breathed as you dramatically tilted your head back before laughing.  

“Yes, this is good. We’re finally getting somewhere.”  She removed her gloves as she walked towards the trash can to throw them away.  “So I’ll come back to check again in about an hour,” she walked back towards your bed, her hands casually tucked in her coat pockets. “I think we’re going to be moving a lot quicker now. Hopefully we’ll have this baby before midnight,” she smiled.  “Hope you like this date.”  

Harry scratched your head lovingly, giving you the most beautiful smile when you glanced at him.

“So relax, have some ice chips,” Dr. Wood joked, “and I’ll see you in a bit.”  

“Thank you!” You called excitedly as you grabbed your cup from the bed tray to tip some of the ice into your mouth.  “I’m so relieved,” you turned your face to Harry as you chomped on the ice noisily, letting your eyes fall closed as he scratched your head again.  

“Me too, baby.” He leaned in to place a soft kiss to your forehead.  “God, she’s gonna be here soon. Can you believe it?”  His voice was soft and full of wonder, it made your heart clench in your chest.  

“No,” you chuckled, “but I’m ready.”  

“Me too,” he kissed your head again before lowering his mouth to yours, his warm lips a soothing contrast to your cold mouth.

You were so ready.  

***

“You’re doing so good baby!”  Harry’s face was right next to yours, his hand gripped to your knee as you fought to keep your eyes on his.  

“Good,” Dr. Wood agreed. “Catch your breath, then you’re gonna push again, YN.”  

Your doctor, nurses and Harry had all been encouraging you like that for at least an hour. You couldn’t really be sure.  It felt like an eternity.  

“This baby’s almost here. A few more good pushes, YN. She’s right there. When you’re ready.”  

You could feel your eyes watering as you looked at Harry, watching him nod along with what Dr. Wood was saying.  “Doing so good. She’s almost here,” he spoke lowly, as if he only wanted you to hear him.

And for a second, it felt like it really was just the two of you.    

It was like your life together - the good and bad - flashed in your mind like a movie.  As if you were watching the ending credits, glimpses of your past selves and everything you had been through that brought you to this moment.      

You took a deep breath, a tear slipping down your cheek as you pushed with every ounce of strength you had. You pushed, and pushed, and pushed - and then it was like your eyes looked down on their own accord to watch your daughter enter the world.  And it was the most breathtaking moment of your life.  The nurses were congratulating you as Dr. Wood held her up for you to get a good look at her, and your husband was praising you with his hand gripped tight to your leg and his lips on your cheek.  

“You did it baby! She’s here,” he cried, kissing your clammy cheek over and over again. “Oh my god, she’s perfect. You’re perfect. I love you. I’m so proud of you.” His voice was rough with emotion but his lips were soft against your skin.  

You cried when she cried, and you watched with blurry vision as Harry cut the umbilical cord, feeling like your heart could burst from your chest.  

Finally feeling complete.

***

- Friday, September 27, 2030 -

“You did all that for me?”    

She looked so shocked by the end of the story that it genuinely made you laugh, Harry laughing right alongside you at her wide eyes and disbelieving tone.    

“Yes! And I would do it again in a heartbeat. You know why?”  You watched her shake her head no, her eyes still wide as saucers.  “Because I would do anything for you. Daddy too. You are the best thing that ever happened to us.”  

She smiled at that, blinking softly at you. She may have had Harry’s dimples, but that was your smile, through and through.  

“Alright, love. It’s late. Don’t want you to be tired for your birthday!” Harry spoke up after a moment before climbing out of bed.  You watched as she got herself tucked under her covers, smiling happily up to you.  He leaned down to kiss her head first, then the tip of her nose as she scrunched it up the same way Harry did.  And then you did the same before pulling the covers over her more.  

“Good night, Rae. Love you.”  

“Love you,” she whispered as you turned her light out and quietly left her room.

Harry’s hands were on your shoulders as you pulled her bedroom door closed, massaging a seemingly always present knot.  “Can you believe she’s gonna be ten tomorrow?”

“Nope,” you laughed as you turned towards him, wrapping your arm around his waist as he slung his around your shoulder to walk down your dimly lit hallway. “I know I say that every year. But every year it blows my mind.”

“Mine too.”  

He kissed your head as you made your way into your bedroom before separating at the foot of your bed.  You pulled the covers down in silence, tossing the decorative pillows onto the floor before climbing into the crisp sheets.  You watched Harry as he stripped down to his boxers before slipping in beside you, quick to pull you closer and turn you to face away from him, fitting his front perfectly against your back.  

“Do you think she’s asleep already?” he asked, his breath tickling down the back of your neck as he pulled you even closer, his hips casually flexing against you.  

“Oh my god, you’re the worst!” you laughed as you squirmed against him.  

“What?” he exclaimed, the smile evident in his tone. “Just missed you.”  

That had you humming, arching your back against him a silent plea. “Missed you too, H.” You spoke softly as you smiled into your pillow.  

“Is that a yes?” He flexed his hips again with his question. “Think she fell asleep extraordinarily fast? All that pre-birthday excitement knocked her out?”

“Mm, doubtful.” Your voice lowered when you continued. “So I guess you better be quiet.”    

“I can be quiet.”

His words and the deep timbre of his voice sent a chill down your spine in the same way his hand gripping your hip and his mouth finding your neck did. That was all it took for your body to warm, arching against him more to feel the way he was already puffing up in his boxers.  

He sucked soft kisses to your skin as he awkwardly tugged your shorts down as much as he could before you kicked them off the rest of the way.  He was quick to follow suit, pulling his boxers down his thighs so he could feel your soft skin against his own.  Your ass curved perfectly into his groin, his warm cock perfectly tucked against you, his leg hair tickling the backs of your legs, his chest flush to your back as he softly bit your shoulder through your tee shirt.  

His hands roamed your body - squeezing your thigh, your hip, your waist.  His breathing picked up against the skin of your neck as he rolled his hips against you.  You sighed happily at the way he practically massaged all your sore spots, his fingers digging into new spots every so often.  And when he pulled your hair up off your neck to suck at the spot where it met your shoulder, you couldn’t help but let out the smallest moan.  

You could feel him get harder the more he pressed himself against you, until he was straining against your ass cheek, hot velvet grazing your skin.  

“God... I want you,” he whispered. “I always want you.”  

His hand found it’s way up the front of your shirt, his warm palm cupping your breast as he pulled you even closer.  

“Harry,” you breathed as he pinched your nipple just enough for a warm zip of pleasure to caress your core.  He flicked his first finger across your pebbled nipple as he sucked another kiss to your neck.  

“Gonna open up for me?” He pressed his hard length into you more, your legs involuntarily opening for him. “Think I can slip in?”  

“You tell me.”  

He bit into your shoulder again in retaliation, his hand quickly smoothing down the length of your stomach until his middle finger could slip between your folds. 

“Fuck,” he spoke in a hushed whisper. “I’ll never get tired of it.” He slipped his finger lower, finding the pooling arousal waiting for him at your entrance. “Get so fuckin wet for me.”  

He wasted no time pulling your wetness back up to your clit to press slow circles against you.  It was amazing how quickly he could make you feel like you were on fire, even after so many years.  It was something so uniquely yours.  He knew your body like the back of his hand, and he used it to his advantage to turn you on as quickly as possible.    

“I want it, H.”  

“What, baby?”  He flexed his hips into you again, his length teasing between your legs.  

“You. Want you to fill me.”  

“Shit,” he breathed. And then he was pulling his hand from your clit to take hold of his cock to guide himself into you.  

He pushed in slow, a moan catching in your throat as you adjusted.  Your hands fisted your pillow as you took in the heavy pressure of him until he was fully seated inside you, his pelvis pressed tight to your ass.  He waited for you, getting the tiniest bit of smug pleasure out of your need to adjust to his size.  He withdrew and pushed back in just as slowly, rolling his hips at the same torturous pace until you whimpered into the pillow.  

“So good,” he moaned softly as he picked up a steady rhythm, one that had a soft clap of his thighs against yours every time he pushed in.  Your back was arched, the angle hitting perfectly.  He was big, and taking him that way only intensified it.  

His moans were soft, but still present.  And you were happy they were, even though he said he would be quiet, you didn’t really want him to. Every sound he made turned you on more, every hushed curse and choked moan, every breath and pant against your skin, it all made your arousal bubble under your skin like a dormant volcano just waiting to erupt.    

“Harry,” you moaned softly as his hand traveled up the length of your side, until it could smooth across your chest and up to your throat, his long fingers cupping the front.  He didn’t squeeze tightly at first, just enough to feel possessive in the best sort of way. His hips picked up pace a bit, rocking into yours steadily as you clenched around him.  And when his hand did tighten on your throat a bit more, your vision went spotty with pleasure as you coated his dick with your arousal.  

“Fuck… fuck,” he moaned as his hips flexed against your ass to push even deeper until you were gasping around a moan.  

You whined and whimpered as he fucked you before you were panting when he released the grip on your neck to slide his hand down your body once more, fingers immediately finding your clit.  

“Oh my god,” you moaned as he flicked his middle finger across your swollen bud.  You were burning up beneath your skin, red hot currents of arousal shooting from your belly throughout your body.  

“Come on,” he encouraged. His hips were relentless and completely unforgiving. Your orgasm was right there, dangling in front of you, just out of reach. “Be a good girl and come on me.”  

And that was all it took for it to wash over you, soaking his cock more as you moaned his name and clenched down on him over and over.  Your hips spasmed with it, his fingers flicking against your clit as best he could to ride the high out with you.  

Your orgasm pushed him over the edge too, as it usually did, the tight grip on his cock pulling the deepest moan you’d heard from him all night.  His hips stuttered into yours, his mouth pressed to your neck as he panted your name while he came.  

You both went completely lax at the same time, sinking into your mattress together in bliss.  

“I love you,” he breathed, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist.  

“Mm, I love you too.”  

You laid in silence for a few moments, catching your breath together as you settled, only to be pulled across the mattress, until he was standing and bringing you with him.  

“Sorry,” he looked down at your pouting face. “We’ll fall asleep if we don’t get cleaned up right now.”  

He kissed your lips softly as he walked you both to the ensuite, your legs feeling like jello as he carried most of your weight with your arms wrapped tightly around his neck.  And once you were back in bed, he pulled you into the same position you started in, with his warm skin seeping through the back of your shirt.  

Neither of you had to say anything as you settled together.  It was late, and you had a long day ahead of you for the birthday party.  But you were both happy and loved, and your life together was everything you could have hoped for and more.

And that was how you contentedly fell asleep, wrapped in Harry’s warm arms.  

***

- Wednesday, September 29, 2020 -

The soft sound of Harry’s voice slipped into your senses as you slowly started to wake from a much needed nap.  You knew exactly what you were going to see before even opening your eyes, a smile pulling on your lips just at the thought.

As you slowly turned your head in the direction of his voice, cracking one eye open to check, you were met with exactly what you thought.  

Harry tucked away in the chair in the corner of your hospital room next to the window, your daughter swaddled up in a security blanket that you’d picked out for her months prior, slowly rocking back and forth as he sang softly, barely above a whisper.    

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

You make me happy when skies are gray.

You'll never know dear, how much I love you.

Please don't take my sunshine away. 

You knew this scene, having caught the same exact visual a few times already.  You watched him sing it over and over, his index finger softly tracing over her cheek, his eyes never leaving her face.  It made your heart ache in a way that you knew you would never get tired off.  

You watched him quietly, only speaking once he was quiet for a while.  “Hi.”  

Wet eyes reached yours, a smile spreading on his face as a rogue tear slipped down his cheek.  He didn’t say anything - just silently lifted from the chair to come sit with you, tucking himself next to you on your bed.

“Mommy’s up, Rae.” He spoke softly as you rested your head on his shoulder, looking down at your beautiful baby.  A perfect mix of you and him.  

You smiled as you turned to place a kiss on his shoulder, the smell of your laundry detergent present on his freshly changed clothes.  You felt a kiss to your head, prompting you to lift your own to meet his soft gaze, his lashes still wet with happy tears.  

He kissed you slowly, pouring his love from his soul to yours.  It was quick and it was sweet, and you found yourself silently sitting next to your husband, watching your dream come true sleep, blissfully aware of the hold she had on both of you already.    

You smiled at her, all of the possibilities of your life to come at the forefront of your mind as you spoke softly.  

“Our little ray of sunshine.”

***  

Thank you so much for reading and coming on this journey! To anyone that has ever struggled with infertility or miscarriage - I’m sorry.  I love you. You are not alone.  

If you enjoyed this, please let me know your thoughts. I would love to hear from you! xx  

Masterlist 

[summerofpinecestcontest]

Birthday Wishes, Birthday Kisses

Second place

by @penningpines

{ I know they turned 21 last year, but getting drunk for the first time on 21st birthdays is like v special to me }

Grunkle Stan guided the blindfolded twins into the kitchen, a hand resting on each of their shoulders.

“Alright, kids, you can take them off now.”

“Hardly kids now,” they heard Wendy laugh. They removed their blindfolds to find her, Soos, and both their Grunkles standing before the kitchen table, which was lined with brightly colored bottles and cans.

Mabel tilted her head. “What is—”

“Alcohol!” Stan exclaimed, throwing his arms into the air. “Booze! Man’s great equalizer!”

Ford, standing at the other side of the table, chuckled warmly. “He may have already had a bit. Happy birthday, kids! You are officially of legal drinking age now, so enjoy yourselves! But go slow. And hydrate!”

Soos raised a bottle in the air and beckoned Dipper over to him. “You’re a man now. Come try this shit.”

The dark brown glass bottle in Soos’s hand didn’t look like it contained anything terribly appetizing, and the closer Dipper got to it, the worse it stunk of yeast. He reached out to take the bottle from Soos, who was now holding it in front of him, and with another small sniff and a grimace, he reluctantly took a sip. Immediately after, he began coughing and sputtered out a, “this is disgusting!”, shoving the bottle back into Soos’s hand.

“That’s the taste of manhood,” Stan said proudly, clinking his own beer bottle against Soos’s. “It’s an acquired taste, like coffee and cigarettes and lake water. You’ll get used to it.”

“What was that last one?”

Stan narrowed his eyes. “Cigarettes?”

“N-no, after that,” Dipper replied, grabbing a bottle of water off of the table and chugging it down to get the taste of stale bread and dead dreams off of his tongue.

“Don’t worry about it,” Stan said, waving a hand dismissively.

Mabel watched in slight horror as the interaction went on. “Do I have to drink that, too?”

“No, thank fuck,” Wendy cut in, handing a colorful, foamy, multicolored atrocity to her. “I took the liberty of making you something a little more… you. It’s gonna be a total sugar rush, and you won’t be able to taste the alcohol at all, so be very careful.”

Mabel’s eyes widened as an excited gasp left her. She eagerly took the glass from Wendy, placing her lips on the colorful twisty straw she had stuck into it, and took a big sip.

“Dipper!”

A disgusted look remained on Dipper’s face as he turned to face his twin. “What?”

“You have to try this!” Mabel pushed the glass into his hands, eyes sparkling in anticipation as she waited for her brother to taste it.

Dipper raised an eyebrow, observing the foamy pink mess, before taking a small sip.

“What do you think?!” She asked enthusiastically.

He grimaced yet again. “This is so… I can feel my teeth rotting…”

“Sorry,” Wendy laughed. “I may or may not have literally poured like an entire cup of sugar in there after all the sodas and juices.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Mabel boasted, snatching her drink back from Dipper and taking another swig.

“You’re used to running on sugar and boybands, Mabes,” he chuckled. “Of course it doesn’t bother you.”

“Try something straight with a mixer, then,” Ford suggested, tapping a finger against the lid of the vodka bottle closest to him. “Any soda or juice will mix with it.”

Dipper eyed the table, grabbing a peach Pitt Cola and an empty cup.

“You’ll wanna measure the hard stuff,” Soos advised, handing a shot glass to Dipper. “And use more mixer than alcohol, otherwise that’s all you’re gonna be able to taste.”

With an appreciative nod, Dipper filled the shot glass, poured it into the cup, and filled the rest with Pitt Cola. A single sip and he seemed satisfied with the mix. “Thanks, Soos.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” he smiled. He then deadpanned. “I am the keeper of alcoholic knowledge.”

Stan playfully slapped a hand against Soos’s back. “Sure are, big guy.”

“Oh, on that,” Wendy piped up. “Carbonation will filter the alcohol into your blood quicker, so be careful with your mixers.”

Soos cleared his throat as he stood from his spot and offered it to Dipper, Wendy mirroring the same action for Mabel. “Go on. Sit down. Drink. Talk about stuff.”

The twins took a seat, offering each other a smile across the table.

“Here’s to 21,” Mabel smiled, raising her glass to meet Dipper’s.

“21,” he repeated, tapping his glass against Mabel’s.

They each took another sip or two.

“Who do you wanna bet is more of a lightweight?” Ford asked, working away at his own bottle.

“Mabel,” Wendy responded instantly. “Definitely. No offense,” she laughed, turning her attention to the accused. “It’s just… in my experience, for some reason, alcohol tends to hit the bubbly ones first, and I’m pretty confident you’re a happy, giggly drunk.”

“What kind of drunk do you think I am?” Dipper inquired.

“Hmm…”

“Conspiracy theorist,” Stan offered easily. “I am fully expecting you to go on about lizard people once it kicks in.”

“Hey,” he laughed. “Not fair! Don’t conspiracy theorists sound crazy? I don’t think—”

“To be fair,” Soos interrupted, taking another swig of his drink. “Your book of crazy monster stuff sounds like some conspiracy type stuff a lot of the time.”

Dipper scoffed playfully in mock offense. “Gravity Falls is full of crazy shit. I am merely documenting and researching said shit.”

This time, Ford slapped a hand against Dipper’s back. “That’s my boy! Carrying on the family business, eh?”

Mabel giggled into her drink, lips pulling at her straw, perhaps a tad too fast. “You still need to find me a unicorn. Like a good unicorn. Not one that’s all full of themselves.”

“What if I find you a caticorn instead?” He offered.

“Even better!” Mabel laughed, raising her glass, which was now halfway empty.

Wendy raised hers to meet Mabel’s this time. “Slow down there, birthday girl,” she laughed, reaching for a bottle of water to offer her. “I told you this one was pretty strong, and you don’t want to make yourself sick.”

“Pshhh,” Mabel laughed. “From sugar? I don’t get sick! My body’s built up a tolerance! A-after that whole Smile Dip incident…”

“From alcohol,” she smiled, pouring one of the water bottles into Mabel’s drink until it reached the rim. “This will help, trust me.”

Soos followed suit, pouring water into what little Dipper had gotten through on his own drink.

“Take it from someone older and wiser, little dudes,” he said, grabbing his own bottle to chug. “Hydrate or diedrate.”

“Or,” Wendy laughed. “Less drastically, hydrate or get super sick and have an awful hangover in the morning.”

“Speaking of,” Soos said, turning his attention to Stan and Ford. “Do you guys remember the first time you got drunk?”

The older twins exchanged a glance, and Ford was the first to speak.

“Times were different. Laws were different, too. We were 16, and—”

“—and you got fucked off of three beers,” Stan interrupted, pointing and laughing at his twin. “And then you got sick, but I never did. Alpha Twin!”

Ford rolled his eyes playfully. “You are not the Alpha Twin just because—”

“Ha!” Now Mabel was pointing at Dipper. “You’re the Ford, I’m the Stan! Alpha Twin!”

“Yeah!” Stan cheered, thrusting his fist into the air. “I got Mabel!”

“Hey!” Dipper laughed. “What about me?”

“I got you,” Ford proclaimed proudly. “Together, we will discover all the mysteries of Gravity Falls!”

“Like whatever the hell is living at the bottom of Stan’s sock drawer,” Wendy loudly half-whispered to Soos, who stuck his hands up in defense, chuckling, “I don’t even wanna know!”

“Grunkle Stan and I will… hmm…” Mabel chewed at the tip of her straw. “Take over the world!”

“Quite a tall order to fill, little miss.” He moved in closer to ruffle her hair. “I don’t know if my back can keep up with that.”

“Oh, shit, wait!”

They all turned their attention to Wendy, who was taking hold of Mabel’s hand and helping her to her feet. “You guys need to stand up for a minute. If you sit the whole time, the first time you get up, you’ll fall over. Happened to me my first time! Robbie started freaking out for a minute, but I thought it was hilarious!”

“I’m sure it’s not so— whoa!” Mabel clutched onto Wendy’s arm, trying to stabilize herself. “Okay, maybe it’s a little bad right now.”

Soos did the same for Dipper, helping him up, though he was much more stable on his feet.

“One to ten,” Ford said, addressing the twins. “On a lev- uh, a scale, I mean. How drunk do you feel?”

“We don't…” Mabel started, to which Dipper finished, “…have anything to compare it to?”

“That was a dumb question for such a smart guy,” Stan cackled, shaking his head at his brother.

“Yeah,” he agreed, matching his twin’s joviality. “Pretty dumb!”

“What was your first time being drunk like?” Wendy asked Soos, reaching out to playfully pluck the bottle out of his hand.

“It was fun,” he snickered. “…until it wasn’t. I got, like, mega sick, dude. But before that, I was having a good ass time!”

“First time sickness buds!” She exclaimed, reaching out for a high five with the hand that wasn’t supporting Mabel.

“Is it, uh,” Dipper, who had just been released from Soos’s grasp, chuckled nervously. “Is it possible to, um, not get sick your first time? Or ever?”

“Hydrate or diedrate,” Soos repeated.

“Hydration,” Wendy giggled, thumping Soos’s bottle against his arm before handing it back to him. “And pacing yourself, and eating before, during, or both. After is kinda debated but it seems to help me, so I do it after, too. Fresh air can help.”

Mabel looked up at Stan. “Is that why you had us each so much before this?”

“As is tradition,” he winked.

“Okay,” Dipper nodded, reaching for another bottle of water with a slight quiver in his legs. Still steady so far.

“Especially you,” Wendy playfully punched Mabel in the arm, causing her to stumble. “You’ve been going at that thing way too fast.”

“The Alpha Twin,” Mabel giggled, “does not get sick. I simply transfer all my sickness to Dipper. When we were little, I had chicken pox. As soon as mine went away, Dipper got them. I haven’t gotten them since, and if that doesn’t prove my theory, I don’t know what will!”

“Mabel, I’m pretty sure chicken pox—”

“Shhh.” She pressed a finger against Dipper’s lips. “No.” Her finger dragged down his body, quickly swiping it over his chest and arms and grabbing at his hand, which she pulled down with her as she dropped to the floor. “We’re gonna sit here now!”

The room, if only slightly, steadied once Mabel had to focus less on keeping her knees from buckling or her legs from otherwise taking her down. As she looked across to Dipper, though, he seemed to be swaying a bit. Or maybe she was— she couldn’t tell.

Stan began telling a story above them, but from down on the ground, and with her lack of focus, his voice sounded small and distant.

“I’m… mmm… mm… tired.” She yawned and reached out for Dipper, who was already staring at her. “Are you tired?”

He shrugged his response. “You wanna go to bed?”

“Yes. No. Mm-may—yes.”

“Okay,” Dipper laughed. “Then let’s go to bed.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Mabel repeated, now loud enough for the rest to hear, holding onto Dipper’s arm with one hand and Wendy’s leg with the other. She maneuvered herself onto her feet, tugging Dipper up with her, and just about shoved her face into his chest as she stumbled forward and clutched onto him more completely. “We are going to have a meeting. It’s about our twin telepathy.” She turned slightly to face the rest of the room. “And only s-s-twins who are under the age of… seventy-b-billion are allowed,” she slurred. “Okay, bye!”

“That means bedtime,” Dipper laughed, supporting Mabel as he helped move her over to the staircase. “This… may present a problem.”

Mabel stared intensely at the staircase for a moment, studying it, before she looked up slightly at her brother and pressed her hands against his chest and pushed to distance herself from him. “I am the Alpha Twin. There is no obstacle too large.”

“You’re gonna hurt yourself, Mabes. Come on. One step at a time.” He took hold of her arm which, honestly, she hadn’t noticed, and began helping her up the stairs.

“I’m doing it!” She exclaimed excitedly. “I’m doing it! I’m—” she looked down and noticed Dipper’s grip on her arm. “Oh. Well, we’re almost up there anyway!”

“Mabel, we’re only three steps up the—”

“We’re almost u-up there anyway,” she repeated, lifting an unstable foot, setting it down, lifting it again, moving it to the side, and fumbling closer to Dipper.

Wendy came up behind them, placed a hand on each of their backs, and helped push them forward. With some slight coordination issues, more than a little bit of random ‘whoaaa!’s, and Mabel tripping over her own feet not once, not twice, but three times, they made it to the top of the staircase.

“Should be able to handle it now,” Dipper giggled to himself, pulling Mabel against his chest once again and guiding her (pulling her, more like) to their shared bedroom.

He got them to the door, which, of course, was shut. He fumbled with the doorknob for a moment before the door swung open, which startled Mabel, and got them inside. He led Mabel over to her bed, which she managed to get into without too much trouble.

“Perfect birthday,” she mused, “almost.”

“Almost?” Dipper questioned, kneeling beside Mabel’s bed to keep himself from falling down. He had managed to keep it together enough up the stairs, but now his legs were threatening to give out and deprive him of his favorite pastime of walking in a straight line.

“There’s oooone birthday wish I didn’t get.” She stared up at the ceiling, clutching onto one of her stuffed animals.

“And what’s that? Maybe I can help?”

“Mm…” she thought for a moment. “No. Never mind. Too embarrassing. G’night!”

Dipper laughed, shaking her shoulder. “Come on, Mabes.”

“Nope.”

“You can tell me! I’m your twin. Come on, use the telepathy!”

She closed her eyes, placed a hand on Dipper’s forehead (well, mostly, and after a few tries), took a deep breath, and whispered, “I… wanted… a birthday kiss.”

Dipper scoffed, amused. “Is that it?”

“What do you mean ‘is that it’?!” She sat up quickly, opening her eyes and turning to look at him, face flushed. “It’s embarrassing! Aren’t you embarrassed?!”

“Mm… nope. Come on, you’ve admitted to me before that you’ve thought about it.”

“Thinking about it and actually doing it are two very different things, Dipper!”

He raised his hands up defensively with a soft laugh. “Alright, alright, just thought I’d offer.”

Mabel groaned playfully. She fell back into her mattress with a soft thud. “Okay… fine… come here.”

“What?”

“Come here! I’m gonna close my eyes so it’s not so… weird… and you’re gonna kiss me like I’m a princess.”

She could feel the weight on her bed shift, signaling that Dipper had sat down next to her. His next question came softly, softer than she expected, and she had to strain her ears to hear it.

“Like you’re a princess?”

“M-mhm…” she felt a little shyer about it now. It felt more real than when she had proposed it. She kept her eyes shut, but she felt her body tighten and flinch as he moved closer to her.

“Actually…” she opened her eyes to find Dipper’s face about a foot away from hers, watching her with a loving gaze. A slight smile was pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Okay,” she breathed. She couldn’t help but smile, reflecting her twin’s. “You can… you can do it now.”

She let her eyes flutter shut again, and he followed her lead, closing the space between them slowly, anticipation building.

His lips hovered above hers for a moment, soft breath matching her own, tension in the room building to a climax when he slowly, softly pressed their lips together.

Though anticipated, it took both of them a split second to process what was happening. Quivering lips steadied as they pressed against their matching pair, and for a moment, they were stuck there, until Dipper pressed his harder against his twin’s before awkwardly pulling away.

He opened his eyes, almost hesitantly, and watched as Mabel did the same. She blushed deeply before breaking out into a fit of giggles, forcing her head to the side so her hair would fall into her face and offer even the slightest bit of concealment.

“Perfect birthday,” she mumbled into her pillow. “For real this time.”

Dipper moved in again to plant another kiss against her face, this one a soft, loving peck on the forehead. “I’m glad,” he grinned. “I agree.”

A comfortable silence filled the room, until he whispered, “goodnight, Mabel. Happy birthday.”

She felt the weight of her mattress shift again as he stood up, crossing the room to get into his own bed.

“Um, Dipp?”

“Yeah, Mabes?”

Mabel rolled over onto her other side to face him. “Can… um… can I get birthday cuddles, too? Like old times?”

He simply chuckled, turning and walking back to her bed, which she had begun moving stuffed animals and pillows off of to give him space to lie down.

“Thank you, bro bro.” She nuzzled her face into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head, breathing in her scent.

“Anything for the Alpha Twin,” he murmured, earning a giggle from his sister as she nuzzled closer to him.

“Best birthday ever,” Dipper repeated, mumbling into Mabel’s hair, arms tightening around her midsection in a protective squeeze.

Not bad, 21. Not bad at all.