#i want to not be mad but any time a memory of last semester crosses my mind my immediate reflex is oh kys! cause i was never mean enough

[munamania]

i mean. i did finally come to my senses and can really obviously see shes Really not all that. thank god. in another life i think we could’ve been like good um friends. unless all that energy really was just weird sexual tension. things i dont spend most of my time worrying about anymore thankfully <3

[whisperprime]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Interlude | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Interlude: 1989 | Part 14

Hob had been honest when he said that he’d lost the majority of his network. Anyone who wasn’t immortal had died off with his imprisonment lasting as long as it did and he had yet been unable to rebuild a new one.

But that did not mean he was without connections altogether.

It was one such connection that he was currently seeking out.

With the new semester officially having kicked off, he’s only going to get busier as the weeks go by. It is with this in mind that that he knows that if he wants to get this task done, he needs to do it soon.

Rounding the corner on what could be any street in London, Hob approaches a building that reads “Bernie’s Barbershop” in pealing, faded red and white letters. Contrary to the age of the sign, a modern, red light “OPEN” sign beckons anyone walking past to come in and get a haircut. 

Hob feels a sense of relief upon seeing it. His memory of his contact’s location in this time period had been iffy at best. He had a few other possible ideas, sure, but he’s glad he won’t have to go on a walk through of all of London to find his target.

A door bell rings over head as he enters, announcing his presence to anyone inside. Hob takes in the mixture of old and new, from the older, brick walls to the newer furniture. He’s just inspecting the display of products, when a slim, red headed woman slips out of the back.

“Welcome, do you have an appointment?”

Hob pulls away from the display. “No, sorry. I’m here to speak with the owner, if possible. He wouldn’t happen to be here, would he?”

He knows full well that the man in question will be here, but it is polite to ask.

The woman, who’s name tag proclaims her to be Sherry, blinks at him. She eyes him up and down for a moment, as if trying to figure out if he’s a disgruntled former customer. 

“May I ask who’s looking for him?”

“Tell him Robert Gadling is here to see him.” Hob continues to smile presently at her, to try and show he was here on good terms. “I’m really just an old friend.”

That seems to ease her concerns a bit, but not entirely. Turning on her heel, the moment causing her poofy dress to puff out with the moment, she disappears into the back.

Hob contends himself to another wait.

The owner, however, doesn’t make him wait long.

“Well, I’ll be! Robbie Gadling, as I live and breathe!” A tall, tan skinned man appears in the doorway leading to the back of the shop. He crosses the room in mere strides, throwing his arms around Hob when he reaches him. “It really is you!”

Hob laughs as he allows himself to be pulled into the hug. “It’s good to see you, too, Viktor.” He grips the man’s forearms as Viktor holds him out at arms length to look him over. “I was hoping you’d be in today.”

Viktor laughs, a jolly booming thing. “Ah, you know I practically live at work.” He releases Hob in order to sling an arm over him, directing him towards the back. “You’re going to have to catch me up on all your latest mad adventures.” Over his shoulder, before they pass through the door, he throws over his shoulder, “If anyone asks for me, Sherry, let them know I’m unavailable.”

Hob catches a glimpse at the blank look on Sherry’s face, hears the muttered, “Sure thing, boss,” before they’re through the door.

Viktor leads him down a hall to a door to the end of it. Once they’re inside, the man shuts the door behind them. The moment the door clicks, Hob feels the tingling feeling of he thinks might be some form of magic roll over the room.

Viktor directs him to a chair into which he takes a seat as he says, “You can speak freely while the door is closed.” He moves around a deceptively cheap looking desk to have a seat, himself. “We can hear those outside, but they will not hear us.”

Hob glances at the door. He’s never been certain if Viktor is any kind of practitioner of the mystical arts, but he knows the man’s wards are nothing to sniff at. He turns back around. “Seems a bit much, when you don’t know what I’m here for.”

Viktor snorts, pulling open one of the drawers of his desk. “We are good friends, Robbie,” he states, reaching into the open drawer. “But not so good you visit without a reason.” Out of the drawer, he pulls out a cheap bottle of malt scotch whiskey and two crystal shot glasses, all three of which he sets on the table.

Hob feels a pang of regret for the truth in those words. It’s easy to take people for granted when you know there’s still a good chance you’ll see them in a hundred years. 

He accepts one of the two glasses when Viktor hands them to him, bringing it up to take a sip as the other man points out, “But worry not, I’d still love to hear the latest strop you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Hob laughs. “Aw, that’s not fair. My life isn’t that interesting.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow at him, unconvinced. “This coming from the man who spent a month in a ghost town.” He leans forward, pointing at him with a finger from the hand still holding his glass. “And it wasn’t a ‘ghost town’ because it was abandoned.”

In his defense, he had been out of it between the deaths of his nuclear family and near getting drowned for being a witch. A kind hand had been seemed like a god send at the time when the old woman helped pull him from the river.

The fact that the old woman had been a ghost looking to take advantage of his in between state to try and trick him into becoming part of the town indefinitely so they could feed on his life force for all eternity?

Well. Maybe the man had a point.

Hob hums as he savors the whiskey. It’s cheap, but still a good brand. “Sadly, I can’t talk much about what happened without talking about why I’m here.”

Viktor sobers a bit. “You’ve been gone a while. It have anything to do with that?”

Hob takes another sip of his drink. Partially to stall. He nods and looks Viktor dead in the eye as he says, “Yeah, I’m looking for a crew. Discreet and not bothered by a little property damage.”

The taller man of the pair leans back in his chair. He studies him for a long, several minutes. “What kind of property damage?”

Hob smiles. Knows it’s not a nice one. “I want to destroy a house.” He finishes off the whiskey and places the drink back on the table.

Viktor whistles, a little something dark entering his own eyes. “And what did this house do to you?”

Hob studies the other man for a moment. Viktor was a warlock, an immortal one at that. He had no need for houses that curtailed one’s aging, as the man had stopped aging long before the Gadling name was a word on people’s lips. And even if he should show interest in it, he strictly stayed away from sites of deals struck with demons.

He taps the glass on the table, once, twice, and then lets it sit again. “The owner of the house has wronged me and is a threat to those I care about.” He leans forward to hold his cup out, which the warlock refills. “A demon has promised that as long as the roof stands, the owner will not age. I wish to inconvenience the owner by destroying the house.”

That darkness in Viktor’s eyes takes on a shade of disgust. “Hm. And what is the name of the owner?”

Hob raises his glass to his lips, utters, “Roderick Burgess.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of this one. Pompous idiot.” Viktor snorts. “The man everyone says caught the devil in his basement.”

The phrase brings a vicious twist to Hob’s gut. Funny how some things persist. He takes the sip, more to fortify himself this time. “He had a demon in his basement, alright. But the demon wasn’t the prisoner.”

Viktor stills, understanding like lightening across his features. Hob is touched by the anger and outrage he can see behind the shock. “I’m sorry to hear of your misfortune.”

“Thank you.” Hob waves it off, even as he accepts the condolence. It’s hardly water under the bridge, but he isn’t here to talk about it. “There’s one more thing: I want to be part of the crew.”

The warlock doesn’t seem surprised, but he does seem concerned. “You sure you want to go back in there. Any crew I put together will be able to do the job just fine.”

Hob hears where the concern really lies: Viktor doesn’t know what level of trauma he has nor how much it might effect the success of the crew. If Hob wants to endanger himself, that’s one thing, but the warlock won’t let him become a liability to anyone else, both for his own good and the good of the others.

It’s a fair concern, but unnecessary. Hob will not fall apart for the job itself.

Afterword? Well, that’s a different story.

Still, Hob seeks to ease some of the other man’s worries, “I’ll only be in and out.” He finishes his drink and then places it on the table. Waves off any more. “Burgess is a shame, but he has something of real danger. He can’t be allowed to keep it.”

Viktor keeps silent, waiting for Hob to elaborate.

And Hob thinks Viktor is indeed a good friend, but he’s also a very real and very powerful warlock who is only mostly a good man.

Everyone has their weaknesses and who knows what all is contained in the Magdalene Grimoire?

Hob keeps his silence.

After several long minutes, the taller man takes the cue that Hob will not budge on this. Chooses not to take offense and instead nods to acknowledge the fact that the shorter man doesn’t mean anything personal by it. “Well, you’re in luck, Robbie, because ol’ Magus is having party next weekend.” To show the source of the news, he pulls a out a pamphlet, which proclaims the day and time of the event. “Celebrating his 150th birthday, he says.”

Hob snorts. Good to see the man is just as arrogant as ever and still hasn’t learned a thing. It’s that kind of brazen that gets people riled up into mobs and coming to burn you at the stake.

Still, he’ll take the in. “I’ll be there.”

Viktor drags the pamphlet off the table. “Now that that’s settled, what do you say we do a little more light hearted catching up?”

Hob laughs again. They spend the rest of the afternoon catching up, Viktor telling wild tales about the events that led up to the building of his barbershop and Hob talking about his new Inn (”You should come by when it’s finished. The first drink is on me.”) and his new teaching position.

They only realize how late it’s getting when they hear a knock on the door. Sherry’s voice filters through as she says, “Place is all locked up, boss. I’m headed out.”

Viktor rises from his seat and crosses over to the door. He opens it up and leaves it to signify that he’s open to visitors again. Hob can feel the dropping of the wards the moment the door handle turned. “Thanks, Sherry. I’ll see you next Monday?”

She nods, eyeing Hob from behind her boss. He can tell she’s a little curious as to why he’s still here, but not enough to stay and find out. “See you next Monday,” she returns, before heading out.

Hob remembers the shop closes around six and takes it as his own cue. He stands and starts for the door. “Probably should be heading out myself. Still need to make certain everything is all set for the week.”

Viktor pats him on the back and Hob is thankful he doesn’t flinch. “It was good to see you, Robbie. Drop me a line when the New Inn is open and I’ll swing by.”

Hob waves at him as he heads out. Calls over his shoulder, “I’ll save a good one just for you.”

He hears a laugh and, “Always knew you were one of the good ones!”

Over the following week, Hob tries to distract himself with his classes, but finds himself too restless and uneasy to concentrate fully.  According to their surveillance, this party is mostly for his inner circle - Burgess and the people who have helped financed him over the years. There’s even talk of a main event that sets Hob’s inner warning bells ringing. He knows it is very unlikely that Burgess will ever catch his true target, but all it would take is the right circumstances and a little luck, and he might catch something that causes the same level of damage as he did the first time. Even if it wasn’t something of real power, anything he caught wouldn’t deserve it.

On top of wanting to bring that damn roof down, if only fuels his need to get that spell book out of Burgess’ hands once and for all.

When the time comes, Viktor's people have been shoe'ed in with a crew that are in charge of delivering the decorations. Flowers, the cake, and other necessities are to be brought in before the party is to kick off. Hob feels not unlike he’s going into a potential minefield. He likely shouldn’t be involved in this. Really should leave this to Viktor’s men, but he can’t chance the book disappearing in the chaos that will undoubtedly follow the destruction of the manor.

He puts some effort into confusing his appearance. Puts on a quality blond wig that doesn’t look half bad once he has it on with the uniform cap. Uses some makeup to lighten up the tan he’s only just recently gotten back. Some padding in his clothes changes his body shape. It would only need to hold up long enough to meet up with and switch places with someone of similar looks and build, who would step in once the spell book was retrieved and could finish the rest of the job.

When the day comes, Hob watches as a picturesque manor comes into view from the windows of the van the crew are driving in. If he had never set foot in this place again, it would have been too soon. He can only imagine what returning here might do to his subconscious that night when it was time to sleep.

Beside him, one of the women of the group, is leaning forward to get as good a look at the manor as she can without unbuckling herself. Hob thinks he heard someone call her ‘Millie’ at some point. “Seems a bit of a shame to tear it down. Place some interesting history.”

Across from her, an olive skinned man groaned in the way people do when they’ve heard something before. Under his breathe, he mutters, “And here we go...”

Millie gave him the finger. “You just don’t care about history.”

Beside her, another man laughs good naturedly. He’d introduced himself as Tom. He was also one of the only people who’d introduced himself. “Only when history gets me a big paycheck!”

The first man laughs with him and Millie turns back to the window with a disgruntled frown.

Hob, taking pity on her, asks, “What’s so interesting about it?”

Tom’s buddy snorted, but Millie ignores him. She looks like she would have pounced on Hob, had that been the polite thing to do. “Not much is known about it before the 1700s, but it used to be called Blackwood Manor. Rumor has it, King George III gave it to a Lady Johanna Constantine in exchange for Pandora’s Box.”

Hob is too stuck on Lady Constantine’s name to contemplate if Pandora’s Box is real or not. “Is that so?” He side-eyes the Manor, wondering if he’s destined to keep hearing about this woman every couple hundred years. Perhaps her footprints on this Earth were deeper than he’d thought.

Millie nods. “She’s the one that gave it the name, ‘Fawney Rig.’” She frowns. “Funny name that.”

Hob, still distracted by the first bit of information, off handedly states, “It’s a ring dropping trick.”

A few of the people in the van turn to look at him. The weight of their gaze is what pulls Hob back to himself. Causally, he explains, “I’m a history teacher.”

It has the effect he’s hoping it would. Most of the people, especially the two who had proclaimed a dislike for history, go back to attempting to ignore them. Millie, however, has leaned forward curiously. To her, he further explains, “Someone would drop a small trinket, often a ring. When someone else picked it up, the person who dropped it would pretend they’d seen it first. The person would offer to take their share of the finders fee and let the second person have the trinket. By the time the swindled realized they’d been swindled, the swindler was gone.”

Tom snorts, the sound tinged with a hint of respect.

Millie wrinkles her nose in distaste. “Quite the character, then, this Lady Constantine.”

If only she knew.

Seeing as they were about to pull up to the manor, Millie quickly wrapped up her story. “It passed through a few hands before it came into the Burgess family. Supposedly, the Roderick Burgess now is the same Roderick Burgess who bought back in the early 1900s.”

Tom’s buddy doesn’t look convinced, but doesn’t truly seem to care either way. “Probably some grandson taking advantage of their similar name.”

Hob decides not to comment, which is just as well, as the van in coming to a stop and everyone is getting their things together. All of the supplies are situated in the back and waiting to be collected. Each of them have been given a task, with Hob’s leaving him on the first floor, where he is most likely to encounter a study.

As they begin to unload, Hob pulls his cap down a touch further to make it easier to hide his eyes. He’s handed two large vases of flowers as a member of the staff he’s never seen comes up to direct him over to where he’s to set them. Hob subtly watches for anyone that might recognize him and finds himself relieved when the few members of the Order that are out and about in the house are too busy to pay attention to the bustle of the decorators.

The member of the staff leads him to an area further back in the house. Hob forces himself to walk past a seemingly ordinary door he has not seen in the Waking world, but would still recognize anywhere. One of the other doors they pass is ajar and within it, he can see his prize: Burgess’ study.

Burgess’ study, where Roderick Burgess himself is currently talking with another man.

Hob catches sight of Burgess beginning to turn in response to the sound of him and the staff member passing. Shifts the vase, as if getting a better hold on it, which incidentally puts the flowers between his own face and Burgess.

He worries for a moment that this could complicate things, but some deity of luck seems to have taken favor with him today, because he can hear the sound of the two men exiting the study - “They never get the decorations right unless you see to them yourself” - followed shortly by the sound of a door locking.

Hob places the first vase where directed. It’s during the placement of the second one that he ‘accidently’ fails to place it properly. They both manage to save the vase and the flowers are only slightly damaged, but most of the water from the vase is now on Hob and the staff member.

“I’m so terribly sorry,” Hob makes himself fret. “I don’t know what happened. It seemed steady enough.”

The staff member sighs, exasperated, but somehow not surprised. He has clearly dealt with much, much worse in his day. “I’ll get more water for the vase.” He waves a hand down the hall, back the way they came. “There’s a bathroom around the corner, if you want to towel off.”

Hob tilts his hat in thanks. He makes his way back down the hall, waits until the staff member is out of sight, and then steals off in the direction of the study.

He finds the area devoid of staff, decorators, or members of the household. Most everyone is busy with the setting up or are hiding out of the way. Hob glances around, before trying the knob.

It’s locked.

He’s not terribly surprised, having anticipated this could happen. He doesn’t have much need for the kind of skills one gains with banditry or thieving these days, but he’s never let himself forget them. The times was always a-changing and he never knows who he’d need to be in his next life.

It’s almost painfully easy to get the door open. He slips inside without a sound. The room is light with the sunset outside, which gives him enough light for his search. The study is old fashioned, with a stone fireplace, wooden desk and various cabinets and other such oddities he’d expect in a rich man’s home from the 1900s. Few things have been updated over the last century.

He doesn’t see much that screams hiding place for a priceless book, until his eyes lands on a wooden cabinet tucked in the back of the room. It’s a dark wood thing, sturdy, and with a decent lock on it. Without the key or a set of picks, someone would have to make a lot of noise to open the thing.

The lock opens as easily as the study’s for him. Inside, dimly light by the last rays of the sun through the window, he finds a hefty amount of cash, some jewels and other valuables. He ignores them all in favor of- yes. There it is.

Sitting on top is the Liber Fulvarum Paginarum that had given away the fact that he wasn’t, in fact, Death herself. From underneath it, he pulls a book, bound in dark leather decorated with gold tooling. It has no name, and he has only seen it once, but he recognizes it.

It’s also a bit heavier than he thought it would be, but not so much he can’t work with it. He’s thankful for the padding, which is only slightly damp from the water, as it makes a good place to hide the book on his person. It’s a bit awkward and won’t hold up to close inspection, but it will do for the short term.

Hob locks up the cabinet. He pauses at the door, listening for voices. When he hears none, he slips out, locking the door as he locked the cabinet. He forces himself to walk as casually as possible down the hall and towards the doors. He’s almost to the door, when he hears: “Excuse me, sir, can you help me with this streamer? Just need a tall person to help set the ends in place.”

Hob almost carries on as if he hasn’t heard, but there a light tap on his shoulder. Heart pounding, He turns enough to see a young woman too nicely dressed to be part of the staff. She must be a guest or one of the permanent members of the household, having come out to help decorate. She’s holding up a streamer in her hands. Beyond her, he can see more decorating one of the sitting rooms.

Hob weights his choices. If he stays, he risks getting caught. If he refuses, it might seem odd. Memorable even. He glances at the door, which is wide open and tauntingly close. Turns back to her and smiles good naturedly. “Maybe with one. I still have other things to bring in.”

Her smile brightens and she ushers him over to where she wants the thing. He’s putting up the other end, when she looks over his shoulder and calls out to someone in the entrance. “Mr. Burgess! Is this how you wanted it?”

Hob freezes, horror turning his blood to ice. His heart skips a beat and he can’t seem to draw any air. He holds absolutely still as the sound of footsteps come up behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck rise up when Burgess comes to a stop behind him.

“Hm.” A long considering pause. “Yes, that will do, Darla.”

‘Darla’ grins, pleased to have done something for the master of the house.

Hob can feel Burgess’ eyes on the back of his head. He doesn’t dare move as the man of the house offers a hand out to Darla, who takes it. Burgess beckons her away, saying, “Let’s leave the decorations to the workers. There’s no need for you to do anything.”

He can hear their footsteps retreating as Darla pouts. “But I wanted to help.”

Burgess hums at her again, placentally. At what might be the doorway, the steps pause. “I apologize for the interruption to your work.” The old man hardly sounds apologetic, and there’s a clear warning in it. “Please, return to your duties.”

Hob manages to rouse himself enough to nod, although he has no clue if it’s seen or not. He doesn’t dare to move until he’s certain that Burgess and Darla are gone. He has to fight to get his breathing under control and knows he absolutely must leave now. 

The sun has set outside, casting more than enough shadows to allow Hob to slip away unseen. The man he was to meet with to switch places with meets him once he’s past the line of sight of the tree line. Hob takes off and then hands him the damp shirt and padding he’d been wearing (sans the book), which the man puts on with only a little grimace. He doesn’t need a wig, as he’s already blond. Hob takes fresh shirt and slips it on. Nods to the man as he makes his way out and back into the party preparations.

Hob, himself, makes his way in the opposite direction, towards where a motorcycle has been stashed for him. He doesn’t allow himself to start to relax until he’s miles away from the Manor, and even then, he doesn’t fully relax until he’s locking the door of his flat.

Near gasping, Hob sinks to the floor. He doesn’t care that the mat his sitting on is dirty. He curls himself up, around the book that has caused so much pain and misery. He wants to throw it away from himself. To start a fire and throw it in. For the moment, he simply sits with it until his heart stops hammering and he no longer feels like his breathing through a narrow tube.

When he finally feels a little like himself again, he rises from the doorway. He places his wretched prize in a safe he’s bought to hold his valuables. It’s barely big enough to hold the book, if place in at an angle, and he’s happy to shut the door and have it out of his sight.

Book secured, he goes straight for the brandy. He drinks straight from the bottle, desperately needing something to calm his nerves. Does so until he can feel the edge coming off enough he can stand to go clean up and change. He’s gotten the make up cleaned off and is just putting on a new shirt when his phone pings at him.

There a single message from Viktor that reads: “Set up complete. Now we wait.”

Hob is equal parts too wired and too tired to settle. He still tries to go through his evening routine. He eats something light, not really feeling hungry, but knowing it’s not a good idea to drink on an empty stomach, immortal or not. Everything seems to go by in a blur, until he finds himself in bed. He’s got a book in his hand he doesn’t remember picking up and he hasn’t read a line from.

Leans his head back against the pillows propping him up and closes his eyes.

He thinks he won’t sleep until he hears this is over.

He falls asleep, despite his resistance, his exhaustion winning out as it inevitably always does.

Part 15

[jooniens]

Mid-August Update

Hey y'all!

Nice to see you again. Remember how in my last post I said I was working on a reading/writing vlog? Yeah well, my camera decided to fill up with memory and I can't afford a new one.

Anyways, I am starting my sophomore year of college this week and I plan for my reading to slow down quite a bit (P.S. I started a studygram, let me know if that is something you would be interested in seeing here).

Other than all of that, I figured I would give you all an update for this month and what I have been reading, and how I felt about the books I decided to shove my nose into this month. I have to admit I was hoping I would have been able to read more this month, it is so hard to believe that this month is already halfway over. So far, I have read 3 books and am currently reading the 4th book. This brings my Goodreads total of books read to 27 (as of writing this 2 books ahead of schedule).

Every Vow You Break by Peter Swanson

I picked this up randomly and I went in with absolutely no expectations. I have never heard of this author (despite them being fairly prolific in the thriller genre) and I have to say this was NOT a good first impression. This book had both awful writing and terrible storytelling. The plot was absolutely all over the place and all of the characters were absolutely awful. The main character was just...so flat. Not to mention this thriller was not thrilling, if anything I kept reading to see how I'd want to slap the characters next. I don't this book had any redeemable qualities. Initially, I gave this a 2 star review but after comparing to it another book I gave a 2 star I bumped it down to 1 star.

City of Ashes by Cassandra Clare *this review contains spoilers*

I tried to read this book late last year sometime and the incest REALLY got to me. I expressed this to my friend and she told me that later Jace and Clary end up not being siblings (which helps me) but the fact that they really had a moment where they both basically said "I don't care if we're siblings" made me want to vomit. Their "romance" is set up to seem like they are star-crossed lovers and it is disgusting. Apparently, Cassandra Clare is kind of infamous for her incest "kink" so I'm not surprised looking back.

Beyond that, I really enjoyed this book and plan on continuing the series. I'm so mad that Ms. Incest Clare put my baby Simon through all of that, he really deserves better. I thought the writing was okay and I was entertained enough to keep reading fairly consistently. I gave this a 3 star out of 5 on Goodreads.

Furyborn by Claire Legrand

The final book for this update (and something that was actually on my August TBR, not that we are surprised). Let me start by saying that I have read this before but I did not remember absolutely ANYTHING about it. I don't know if it was because I read it almost 2 years ago or if God said "Nah, this isn't the right time for you to really appreciate this book" and just wiped my memory. Whatever happened to wipe my memory, I'm glad it did because o m g did I LOVE this book. If you go through my updates on Goodreads it's just being confused that I didn't remember this absolute work of art. I loved the double perspective and while Rielle's story was much more interesting (at least to me), I still loved Eliana and all of the characters (Including Corien even though he's toxic). I have already started Kingsbane (the second book) and Am already taking notes. I gave this book 5 out of 5 stars on Goodreads.

Like I said, I'm a little disappointed that I haven't read more this month but 2 out of these 3 books were 300-400 page fantasy novels so I'm cutting myself slack, especially since I am 2 books ahead of my goal (for now).

Good luck with the rest of your month and to those who are going back to school, I hope you have a good semester and study hard. I do expect my reading to slow down but I plan on continuing to update here. Starting from now a lot of my focus is going to be on my studygram but I won't abandon you all I promise.

Much Love,

June <3

[helenazbmrskai]

This Summer

Guess who’s back with another yoongi fic featuring my favourite trope so here’s another brother’s best friend au, I wanted to try a different setting for this one since I like summer camp aus a lot (and there’s not enough of it on this site I tell you) and I never did something similar to this also I’m sorry that there will be mistakes in here because I wrote this in three days but I’ll proofread it once I have the energy.

🏕️Title: ‹This Summer›

🏕️Pairing: ‹brother’s best friend and camp counsellor! yoongi x new camp counsellor! reader ft. brother and camp counsellor! hoseok›

🏕️Genre: ‹brother’s best friend, summer camp, camp counsellor, romance, fluff, angst, smut, idiots to lovers›

🏕️Summary: ‹This summer you’re going to stop liking min yoongi for good. The plan is flawless until it’s not (but you’re not the only one with plans.)›

🏕️Warnings: ‹smut, making out, oral (both parties) receiving, penetrative sex, condom sex, dirty talk, yoongi is jealous of jungkook having your boobs against his chest, y/n avoids yoongi like it’s her life mission for like 5k straight, a lot of angst but there will be fluff too so don’t worry, awkward tension, sexual tension, clueless hobi, everyone is stupid in this, jungkook likes meddling with y/n’s life a little bit too much, poor tae facing yoongi’s wrath without any reason lol›

🏕️Word count: ‹12.3k›

🏕️Masterlist l read radio sweethearts if you want another brother's best friend yoongi l enjoy!

Your brother is a ticking time bomb, no one knows when he’s going to take something into his head, he’s that annoying sibling that’s always full of energy and twists everyone around his pinky finger on family dinners. You love him with your whole heart, considering you ripped that mean girl’s hair out in elementary school when she called your baby brother (who is older than you but shh) ugly and made him cry.

Hoseok and you are polar opposites he’s cheery and positive always have a big smile on his face, ready to help all the old ladies with heavy shopping bags cross the street while you’re on the quiet side and often misunderstood.

It’s easy to see on holiday dinners and get-togethers that your relatives favour him over you because you’re less talkative and friendly, he has better achievements in life whilst you struggle with school but those you’re close with know the real you and awkward conversations about your nonexistent boyfriend because you’re so deeply in love with your brother’s best friend is not the best ice breaker your distant grandmas try to pull on you. Even so, when Yoongi decides to tag along to those said dinners accompanied by his parents and little sister, might just hell break loose.

The second man who basically acts like he lives in your house is your best friend slash knight in shining armour and partner in crime; simply named Jeon Jungkook for good measure who is your next-door neighbour. You have tons of unforgettable memories with him as he was the one you went to prom with, annoyed all the teachers on field trips with your loud rap battles and cried on each other's shoulders as you graduated high school together.

Your friendship with him came as a surprise to all your family members as they originally thought your brother and him will become close but instead, he spent most of his time with you while yoongi and hoseok with their other friends hang out separately. On rare occasions, your group would mix and go to see a popular movie or play games at the arcade on someone’s birthday.

Summer usually is the time when things are a little slow. No assignments to do or classes to attend, your brother leaves in early July for this summer camp that’s half a day far away from your home with his friends and the last two summers even Jungkook applied to be a camp counsellor as he likes to be surrounded by kids and nature just like your brother does so literally, everyone left for some time leaving you alone in your hometown with nothing to do but it was better this way because away from Hoseok meant that Yoongi will be far away too.

Your brother tries to persuade you every year to go with them but you always have to decline, sometimes your no is firmer than other times because Hoseok is excellent at using his puppy eyes on you.

However, this summer you had other plans. There’s no bell to ring once the last class is dismissed for the semester, tired from your finals you’re going to dedicate at least a week to catch up on your sleep and fix your eating habits but you have a big smile on your face as you climb into Jungkook’s run-down Ford slamming the car door behind your body since they don’t function properly sometimes. This car is his prized possession, got it for his 18th birthday after he successfully passed his test (at the forth try) and bragged about his driving license to you for over two weeks although you only dared to sit next to him after two months. Jungkook named his car Adonis and forbid you of disrespecting his little baby if you want to ever get a lift so you let him be.

Back to your important inner turmoil, you decided you will no longer simp over Min Yoongi your brother’s best friend and this summer you’ll get over him as a grown-up woman. Being in your second year at the local University that all the boys attend it’s surprisingly easy to avoid your brother and his friends and how everyone’s schedule seems to be so packed all the time during the semester, you don’t see them as much as you used to in high school.

”This was your last final, right?” Jungkook turns the ignition key ready to leave this hellhole of a place, holding your headrest with one hand as he turns to see the back of the car so he can back out of the parking lot without any accidents. You grab the smoothie from the cup holder before humming in agreement and take a sip whilst taking in your best friend’s features you haven’t seen for the past week.

”As soon as I get home I’m going to sleep till the next century.” Your dramatic response earns a chuckle and a jab to your left boob as he didn’t take his eyes off the road while delivering his hit. Jungkook wears his signature white tee with a pair of dark blue jeans no traces are left of the stress both of you went under, he was luckier than you as his finals ended a week ago.

”School sucks, we couldn’t even have fun together and I’m leaving next week. I’m going to miss you, you know. You really won’t come with us?” He tried to make you rethink your decision just like your brother but not even his bambi eyes can waver your summer plans, this time you fully intend to have one more Min Yoongiless summer, this silly crush you have on your brother’s best friend can’t continue.

”There’s always one place left for you at the camp Y/N. Hoseok would love to see you there too and we could spend so much time together.” The idea of spending a few weeks with Jungkook sounds nice but a voice in your head reminds you that Yoongi will be there too. He could be yelling at children and wear his trademark grumpy expression but you would still find something attractive about him. The worst part is that he’s never like that with you.

Yoongi is not as talkative as Jungkook or Hoseok, making him be more like you, at first you thought that your crush developed because he seemed to understand you in a different way your brother couldn’t. He cares for his friends, always making sure to show them by doing thoughtful gestures.

Hoseok tells his friends all the time that you and him are a package deal it’s either both of you or none of you, sometimes people have a problem with that but these five boys he hangs out with for years now are the good exception. You like them even though you don’t like all of Hoseok’s friends.

”I’m sorry Koo but I can’t, we talked about this before.” It’s not like you hate children because you don’t you’re not the best with them but they are ok, the heatwave is what you despise in summer camps. You love being in an air-conditioned place without bug bites all-around your ankles and not even the campfire with yummy marshmallows could persuade you to like outdoor activities.

Summer camps are just not your thing.

”What do you mean you signed me up?” The black t-shirt slips through your fingertips, it has a band logo at the front you remember Hoseok liked back in high school, his suitcase is halfway filled with clothes when he decided to tell you he faked your signature to sign you up as the new summer camp counsellor.

You admit that you have a weird talent for making nice origamis that kids would probably love to learn and a good addition to the routine activities, he would have swayed you with compliments if it weren’t for the fact that he faked your signature and signed you up for something you definitely said no to but still decided to do it without your permission. You heard nice things about the camp itself since it got renovated two years ago and Hoseok’s friends are nice people, he said their co-workers are nice people and your best friend would be there too, don’t get the wrong impression there, you even heard that the camp leader Seokjin is nice and a fun person not strict at all unless it concerns the kid's safety because he will not allow that.

”Don’t be mad, please. Jungkook and I just thought that this could be a fun experience for you, things will get busy next year so it’s going to be the last summer together like this. Pretty please?”

You sighed defeatedly as you can’t possibly say no to that when he phrases it like that. Hoseok looks at you with his round big eyes full of hope. Your summer plan was flawless until…it’s not.

Jungkook came almost knocking down your front door when you called him to come over after you were finally done helping Hoseok finish packing for the trip, you scolded your best friend for not stopping your brother as soon as he learned his scheme about ruining your summer plans you felt furious but he picked up on his way over to your house your favourite coffee flavoured candies and it made you forgive him too easily as you were soon munching on the treat.

It’s a huge disadvantage on your part that he knows your preferences so well. Now you can understand why he always seems so frustrated with you when you make him his favourite dish to get him to forgive you, this is just too much power to have over someone and when he crushes you with his tight hug listing out the things the two of you can do at the camp all of your remaining anger vanishes.

You will think about Min Yoongi later.

That later, however, comes sooner than you anticipated. Sitting on the kitchen stool drinking your coffee while all Hoseok’s noisy friends get a fill of breakfast and a cup of coffee, you have the unfortunate fate of housing all the boys to dine before getting on the road and after a lost rock, paper, scissors thanks to your brother’s ridiculous bad luck you become the host.

The kitchen got filled with animated chit-chats as they place a toast or two on their plates over the noises you almost don’t hear Jungkook next to you asking for the jam but you pass him the jar silently. Yoongi and Jimin are the only ones missing from the group because Yoongi has to drive Jimin to his parent’s place to pick up his car that he got repaired recently so they were running a bit late.

Namjoon is a new addition to the group after Hoseok met him in Uni so you don’t know him that well but he’s nice as far as you’re concerned, you talked to him a few times and his interesting topics never fail to entertain you. Jin steals a toast from Namjoon’s plate so he doesn’t need to get up and fetch one for himself but Namjoon looks too tired to care as he munches on his remaining one toast that his friend can’t steal because it’s halfway in his mouth.

Seokjin’s parents run the bakery on the main road so everyone knows him, he got introduced to the friend group when you were still in high school and you and Jungkook were regulars at the shop. Jin always sneaked a pair of baguettes for the two of you exclusively after you were finished with school.

It’s nice to see all these familiar faces after the stressful semester you had, momentarily forgetting about your problems you feel thankful that Hoseok went out of his way to ruin your plans and sign you up for this train wreck of an adventure, it’s been a while since everyone was together like this.

The doorbell rang interrupting Jungkook and Seokjin’s argument about who’s going to get the last toast piece but Hoseok perked up at the sound yelling excitedly that Yoongi and Jimin are here. Your brother quickens his pace after rising from his seat to open the door for them and grins when they step through the threshold.

Greetings are exchanged between friends and the place becomes livelier as the last pieces decide to join the puzzle, Jimin sees you first and knocks into Jungkook’s shoulder while he tries to get to you to give you a warm hug.

It’s been a while since you last saw Yoongi face to face, you’re added to the boy's group chat so in some depth you knew how he’s doing. He has been over at your house a few times hanging out with Hoseok but you always stayed late inside the library on the days he visited using the weak excuse that you need to catch up on school work so you had no chance of crossing paths with him coincidently while you were searching for a glass of water in the kitchen it’s humiliating enough that he saw you exit your bathroom wearing only a towel when you were a teenager.

Your curves became more defined and your body matured a lot over the years and knowing that he saw you like that when you had no ass or boobs. It’s embarrassing. Hoseok liked you that way because it meant no man would thirst over you as he liked to call it. The memory of him telling the boys that you’re off-limits and made them swear at the ’bro code’ to stay away from you is crystal clear in your mind even if now you are in your twenties.

The memory only makes your situation difficult as Yoongi probably doesn’t feel the same way.

As soon as Jimin steps back and releases you from the hug he has Jungkook in a headlock the next second, wrestling with the younger playfully, Jungkook is probably the closest to Jimin after you.

”Hey, it’s nice to see you.”

Yoongi has a half-smile on his face as he approaches you hesitantly pulling you into a hug like Jimin did but his approach is more gentle and careful as he pats your back with featherlight touches. His scent envelops your senses tuning out everything else that’s not him, it feels like forever that you hugged him, normally the two of you greet each other but rarely hug like this.

”Yeah, you too.” You murmur the words into his shoulder but he must have heard you because the side of his lips turned slightly upwards after you separate.

There are two cars available for the eight of you and Seokjin yells that it’s a matter of a game of rock, paper, scissors and everyone agrees as this is the common way your group chose who is riding with who.

”Easy, the losers ride with Jimin and the winners with Yoongs.” Jungkook is the first one to initiate the rules and everyone agrees except Jimin who whines about why he takes the losers but no one pays attention as the bloody battle starts. The first contestants are Namjoon and Hoseok and your brother ends up loosing while yelling like a banshee and making up excuses that he wanted to show rock and not paper as Namjoon choose scissors as his weapon.

You come up next with Jungkook as your opponent and you let a wicked smile appear on your face because no one knows him better than you, you know his move before he even thinks it through and you show paper getting your well-deserved victory.

Just later you realise that winners ride with Yoongi that you reconsider your decision, you were so caught up in your rivalry that’s your friendship’s base foundation with Jungkook at this point that it slipped your mind entirely.

Taehyung and Jin are the last ones to compete and the battle ends with Taehyung winning the last space in Yoongi’s car leaving Seokjin to dramatically kneel like a wounded soldier making fake sobbing noises. Taehyung ends up changing seats with Jungkook last moment and finally, everything is set to get going.

Jungkook and Namjoon take over the backseat as they loaded their luggage at lightning speed so they can claim their spot first leaving you with the only option to have the passenger seat at the front.

Yoongi obviously got behind the steering wheel entrusted with the task of operating the car throughout this long drive to the summer camp sight. Taehyung, Jin and Hoseok got into Jimin’s car like it was decided by the game.

The camp is bigger than you expected and the renovations got the place a little modern touch to it while still maintaining a close feel to nature with all the wooden houses and trees around but your favourite part is the lake at the far end of the campsite.

You share a room with a girl counsellor that spends her second year here, still, relatively new like yourself so it’s easy to befriend her. The campers will arrive the next day early in the morning Areum informs you as you two walk to the dining area to have the first meeting before everything starts.

By the end of the day, everyone knows you’re Hoseok’s little sister and new people approach you every now and then to confirm the facts and know a little bit more about you since everyone seems to like your noisy brother here (not that it surprises you), it looks like the counsellors are excited to start a new summer here and the atmosphere easily pulls you in, you watch Jimin and Jungkook have a water fight just to catch in the corner of your eye the figure of your brother pushing an unsuspecting Seokjin into the lake when he stands too close to the edge.

The day goes by like a flash as you hang out with Areum, she shows you her favourite places that consists of the greenhouse and the other side of the lake where there are built benches and tables for outdoor picnics.

Jungkook pouts during dinner fake crying that you replaced him and you have to forcefully spoon feed him to stop him from embarrassing you in front of all these unfamiliar people that gathered to have some quiet dinner. So everything goes smoothly, you have such a great time that it scares you.

It’s getting pretty late when all counsellors gather around the campfire to roast marshmallows and catch up with each other’s lives, you’re still new so you use this time to get to know Areum a little bit more since you and her are going to be responsible for entertaining the kids inside the art room alongside with Taehyung who teaches the kids how to paint.

You tell her about your silly hobby that landed you this job and she gets really excited to see your origami creations, you show the same enthusiasm when she reveals her major is classical statuary.

Even though Yoongi was always nearby it got easy to ignore his existence when so many new things surrounded you. It didn’t mean he fully left your thoughts throughout the day but made you feel that sense of false security that you could get over him. That all those years of pinning for your brother’s best friend could just vanish if you told your heart to stop skipping beats when he calls your name. Boose soon gets introduced to the mix and by the time midnight rolls around everyone is pleasantly buzzed and when Jungkook enters the state that he hangs off of you like a koala nuzzling his cheek into the crook of your neck you decided to call it a night.

You wake up with your head thumping inside your skull slightly feeling hangover; your roommate is in a similar state as you two approach the dining room getting small slices of bread to make a light sandwich.

You’re mid-bite into your food when you see Yoongi enter, walking alongside with your brother he catches your gaze sooner than you were able to look away and after they get their fills on their trays your loud brother flops down next to you with the loudest greeting that he could possibly muster up alerting everyone in the ten-metre radius.

Yoongi and you groan at the same time telling him to shut up like it’s a scripted response and your eyes meet for the barest of seconds before you focus on your half-eaten sandwich.

It’s hard not to look at him. Despite his gruff exterior, he’s very good at dealing with children, your activity where kids can learn how to fold origami is always after his cookie baking lesson and he smells like rough cookie dough and chocolate ship when he leads the kids into the art room where you would have all the coloured papers ready at each desk and folded a sample beforehand so they can use it as a reference if the instructions don’t look clear enough in the printed page.

The idea for this lesson formed last night, you were up all night as you researched on the internet how to fold hearts. It kept you up till the sun rose as you were trying out every folding technique that would look pretty but easier to do for the kids, you even accidentally cut your finger with the scissor while you were working using only the faint light from the lamp on the bedside table.

Yoongi greets you like he usually would wearing a little smile at the corners as he lets the kids inside first holding the door open for them, he always leaves silently after he delivered the campers to the art room but this time the door slides closed behind his form as he got dragged into the room by a kid named Minsung holding onto Yoongi’s hand he stood awkwardly while everyone else had a decided seat to take.

”Can Yoongi join us today Y/N?” Minsung asks holding Yoongi’s hand as he leads him further into the art room and every kid looks expectantly at you waiting for you to agree and seeing their faces you nod with a smile pulling out the chair next to you beckoning the embarrassed man to sit beside you.

He didn’t think you would say yes if he’s being honest. After you finished high school and he and Hoseok went to University and got busy with life he started to see you less and less, at first he didn’t think much of it but after some time it looked like that you’re actively avoiding him.

He has no idea why (that’s what eats him from the inside out on sleepless nights) he doesn’t remember saying or doing something that would make you upset and even now when you keep bumping into each other you seem skittish around him and he doesn’t like that, hence he even talked to Hoseok about this and your own brother couldn’t give him an answer why you started avoiding him.

”Do you know how to fold origami?” You ask him slipping papers in front of him as soon as he seats himself beside you, your heart beats inside your chest violently when you get enveloped in his scent yet again reminding you of the hug you shared that you’re afraid he’s going to hear it.

”I barely know how to fold my clothes.” The nervous joke lightens the mood as the kids laugh loudly the poor attempt at making you be more comfortable with him earns a little snort that makes a blush creep up your face rapidly in embarrassment but Yoongi thinks you sound adorable. You think you sounded like a troll.

”It’s fine I’ll help you.” Your little smile is still there even though your eyes are no longer on Yoongi as you focus on the kids, you tell them first what they will make and then go into detail how they can fold it while using the instructions and clearing some of the confusing images for them to understand it better. Lastly, you encourage them to not be afraid to ask if they have questions and you’ll gladly help them. It falls silent after as everyone gets absorbed in their work and you start making extra origamis for the children as usual until someone needs help.

Yoongi looks intent on finding out using the illustrations how to proceed and even though your instructions were pretty clear and well detailed he couldn’t figure out how to do it, he wastes two papers before he even got to the third step.

You see him struggling and he clearly gets worked up over it considering the number of creases appearing on his forehead once you get back to your desk after helping a kid figure out the instructions you move your chair closer getting his attention with the movement, your knees touch in the process but neither of you makes any moves to instal more distance between your bodies.

”Can I show you?” You reach for the scrambled paper but stop midway to look up and ask for permission.

Yoongi nods his head sliding the mess closer to you, observing as you unfold the paper and restart making more accurate lines and you immediately see what’s wrong with his shape. His measurements are off, even when he folded the paper in half that seemed uneven because he tried to fold it in one go and the paper sometimes moves around if you’re not careful enough.

After you fixed it and slid the paper to be in front of him you tell him your advice in a soft-spoken way. Heart still hammering inside your chest due to the closeness you share. ”Don’t rush through the steps, take your time while you fold it.” Your fingers touch briefly when you pass him the paper and you resume your working so it would take away from the embarrassment of how loud your heart beats because of him.

He looks so good today wearing a black oversized t-shirt with small prints in the front and even when his hair is damp with sweat his smile is able to melt your resolves any time you gaze up at those dark eyes.

Kids can be very attentive and they easily see how Y/N looks so smitten with Yoongi if those stolen sideway glances are anything to go by, every time he shows up you became a nervous ball of a mess it’s not rocket science to know you have a huge crush on the boy, the only mystery that campers can’t figure out is why you tiptoe around each other when Yoongi doesn’t seem indifferent either.

They often catch him looking at you as they run around the campsite during leisure activities led by Hoseok.

Minsung and Soohyung share a knowing smile as they watch them fold origami and it’s not overlooked by either of them when you focus back to do your work and Yoongi takes glances in your direction mesmerized by you, the task seems easy when he watches you do it.

A knock is followed by the appearance of your camp leader Seokjin leaning onto the doorframe interrupting your little bubble, looking at the kids with a fond expression before he addresses Yoongi and they leave together to discuss something, the activity is almost over as you learn glancing at the clock and Jungkook soon appears where Jin was a little while ago to get the kids.

Jungkook and your brother are the ones responsible for the outdoor activities and at the end of the day not only the kids are tired but their counsellors too by constantly running around to ensure everyone's safety.

Yoongi wanted to talk to you and help you clean up, have a real conversation in private, but things never turn out as he wants them to there seems to be always an obstacle standing between you two so he follows Jin to discuss a camp-related issue while he wishes he could spend a little more time with you.

If only you would tell him what he did wrong so he can fix it, this awkward state you two got stuck in makes him sad for some reason.

There was a time when you were greeting him with a big smile on your face and ask him about his day, he vividly remembers your chubbier cheeks and crooked teeth when you were younger but he doesn’t mind your feminine growth over the years, Yoongi always thought you will grow up to be a beautiful woman.

He remembers your prom dress, it was in a navy blue colour that complimented your fuller curves he only started to notice in your last year in high school, Jungkook posed beside you like you were Mr and Mrs Smith as your parents took pictures of you two and he found himself smiling fondly at you.

It was Hoseok’s birthday when the air shifted from platonic to something else in the short span of ten seconds, both of you were a little tipsy and you were sitting at a corner table together because neither of you wanted to hit the dance floor, the bar was packed and guys tried to hit on you numerous times just to be chased away by your brother’s antics.

You didn’t seem to mind that he prevented every guy from making a move on you and as you were all alone in a small booth chest to chest to hear each other over the loud music while you tried to tell him a story about Jungkook choking on fries at Mcdonalds when the waitress suddenly slipped her number scribbled onto a napkin trying not to ugly laugh yourself. His nose accidentally bumped into yours as he suppressed a laugh and if the others didn’t choose that exact moment to take a breather and have more drinks he thinks he would have probably kissed you right then and there.

The other time he felt something different while he was around you was when you and his friends took a trip to Busan to see the sea and you wore that one piece bikini, the bottom and top half were connected by a line of fabric but let your sides and hips be visible under the little clothing you had on.

Guys turned their heads when you passed them and he couldn’t even blame them like Hoseok because he looked at you a few times as well trying to seem as subtle as he possibly can since Hoseok otherwise would have killed him knowing that his best friend was ogling at his little sister.

”Don’t you dare!” Your yelling draws the attention of the kids and counsellors equally that’s how loud you are as your best friend approaches your form sitting under the umbrella trying to cool yourself down since today’s temperate is insanely (and unreasonably) hot. ”When we get home I’ll draw all your action figures a moustache using permanent markers. I’m not joking stop right there!”

Your horrific expression is validated since Jungkook has this shit-eating grin on his face when he’s about to do something you’ll most definitely not like, knowing him from your early stage of childhood when he was just a lanky anime fanatic and you were flat like a wooden board with huge pimples you’re an expert at distinguishing his different expressions and actions.

”You’re cute to think that will stop me.” Jungkook chuckles grabbing you by the waist as he drapes you over his shoulder effortlessly walking with you to the edge of the lake despite your efforts to break free from his grip, your friend jumps into the water with you still firmly clinging onto his body. The kids around you laugh at your friendly banter as you rise from the water like a lake monster and you duck Jungkook’s head underwater to make him pay for your ruined clothes and makeup.

Coming to help you, Jimin manoeuvres his boat next to you and stretches his hand out followed by a big grin to drag you out of the lake but it appears to be more difficult as you two almost flip over but you manage to unceremonially flop down next to him dragging your fingers through your hair to get the hairs out of your face.

”You really want war, Jeon. Just you wait but don’t blame me if I shave your hair off while you’re sleeping.” Coughing between your threatening words Jimin starts patting your back, rubbing your spine to help you feel better.

Jimin oars closer to the dock and you land your feet on the ground again without any more incidents occurring while Jungkook swims all the way, making comments about your appearance making the campers giggle alongside with him as your face gets warmer, once both of you are secure on land Jungkook hugs you close despite your distaste, your clothes cling to your body uncomfortably and droplets from his hair land on your cheek as he moulds your bodies together.

”Let me go, I’m not talking to you.” You try to push him away but instead of letting you go he scoops you up from the ground and spins you around, begging for your forgiveness but you don’t give in so easily.

Yoongi observes the scenes before him with a sour expression, he doesn’t even realise how he glares at Jungkook holding you that close to him while both of you are dripping of lake water, your boobs are entirely pushed against his chest as your best friend giggles midst of you struggling to break free.

Next to him Hoseok sits relaxed in his chair sipping his cold drink, shaking his head in faux amusement happy to see you have a good time here, your brother is normally very protective of you when it comes to guys but with Jungkook he knows that you guys are just best friends it’s hard to see you two otherwise when he witnessed your first period crying onto Jungkook’s shoulder that you’re going to bleed out and your poor friend almost dragged you to the hospital because he thought you were being real but soon learned that you overdramatise things when it’s that time of the month.

He often finds you in a weird position while you watch tv with Jungkook’s head on your tummy because the pressure and warmth of his head make the pain more bearable cuddling under blankets because you get needy when you’re on your period, your brother knows all of this because when your best friend is unavailable he has to fill the space and lay his head on your stomach until the feeling goes away.

He had his doubts in the early stage of your budding friendship when you first started to hang out with each other because things can get weird easily between friends if they are not the same gender but Jungkook proved to Hoseok multiple times that he supports you and would walk through fire for you. Nothing happened between you two in romantic aspects, there was no shift, even though someone who doesn’t see you daily interacting with him would assume something is going on.

”I’m going to change.” You announce to no one in particular, the way your shirt clings to your curves as you’re surrounded by male counsellors you don’t know adds extra pressure and their eyes on you make you uncomfortably fidget in place, your make up is probably smudged on your face giving you a panda effect.

”Wear this your bra is showing.” Jungkook gives you his wet shirt but the black material conceals your body to look decent enough and you thank him he could easily sense your distress and he feels a little bad that he pulled that trick on you. He had to coax you into wearing that bikini at the beach last year buttering you up with compliments so the two of you could finally get going, he knows better than anyone that you’re shy and insecure about your body if someone you don’t know sees you, you don’t hate your body but it makes you feel anxious if some stranger looks at you like you’re his meal for the evening and he totally gets it.

He glares at every single one of them who looks at you inappropriately alongside your brother who shares the same sentiment as him. You deserve to be treated right, that’s why he was super angry once you told him about your first time, that guy just stuck it in without making you cum.

Hoseok doesn’t know, however, you only told Jungkook about your unpleasant experience when you were tipsy, you had to tell him at a house party while playing truth or dare, you had to share something he didn’t know and considering he’s your best friend not much was there to confess. You hoped that he was drunk enough to forget about it the next day but he surprised you with ice cream and you talked it out with him, he can be immature sometimes though when the situation needs him to be serious he’s there for you. He never once made fun of you for something you felt insecure or not confident about.

Areum takes in your dishevelled look as soon as you step through the entrance of your current accommodation, opting for a quick shower to wash the dirty lake water off your skin you tell her what happened vaguely before disappearing behind the bathroom door and she snickers silently seeing your grumpy face.

Jungkook marches to the seat next to Hoseok the playful glint is still there as he rakes his fingers through his hair shaking the droplets out of his locks like a dog and the way female colleagues eye him didn’t go unnoticed by either Yoongi or Hoseok for that matter. Your best friend is not as dense as you think he is because for a while now he connected the dots why you seem to avoid Yoongi at all cost.

It shocked him at first but now observing your interactions closely he calls himself a fool that he didn’t realise it sooner. Your best friend knows about the ’you can’t woo my baby sister’ rule because it’s applied to him as well, Hoseok cornered him one day after you left to bring up snacks for a movie night and told him awfully descriptive outcomes what will happen to him if he tries anything on you all the while he pushed him against your lavender walls, that day he learned that smiley Hoseok can be scary sometimes.

It’s been years and his overprotectiveness lessened because you dated guys here and there and Hoseok was always supportive of you and your soon-to-be boyfriends, but you didn’t go to second dates with any of them.

He found it strange at first but after he found out about your little crush on your brother’s best friend some things clicked and your behaviour wasn’t soo odd anymore, Jungkook didn’t read too much into it at first because he thought it’s going to be a fleeting flame but it’s been years that you harbour feelings for the older man.

Yoongi was a harder nut to crack because he’s better at masking his feelings than you but he can see how his eyes linger on you when he thinks no one’s looking, his slip-ups are subtle ones and it would go over his head if he wouldn’t be so tuned in searching for his reactions.

His gut feeling tells him Yoongi feels the same way you do (his face might not be as expressive but his eyes are sparkling every time he finds you in the crowd) although he can’t be one hundred percent sure, the benefit of the doubt that makes him keep question every move and look he throws your way his confusing actions indicates that even Yoongi doesn’t know how he truly feels about you so Jungkook didn’t bring up the subject because he’s not sure how to approach this without making this more complicated.

He doesn’t want to give you hope when he can’t guarantee his intuition is right so he choose to silently observe and let things unfold naturally but it gets harder with time to ignore how you two are dancing around each other like idiots. Well, at least before now you straight out refuse to be in the same room as him.

At this point, he’s convinced that neither of you is going to make a move to let the other know about your romantic feelings, he wanted to respect the fact that you didn’t want him to know about your feelings towards your brother’s best friend but enough is enough and he’s tired of seeing you avoid the matter for another year like this.

His plan so far doesn’t seem to work, he convinced Hoseok to sign you up for the camp against your will but things don’t go forward as you keep avoiding the problem so he needs to give both of you a little push from the sidelines to end this.

He doesn’t like the idea of you hurting if he’s being wrong about this but the rejection would be better than living in denial, not knowing if he reciprocates your feelings, he hates seeing you cry but he’ll be there to kick ass and support you. Jungkook makes up his mind and calls Hoseok’s name to grab his attention.

”What do you think about one of your friends dating Y/N?”

Hoseok’s brow raises in question and Yoongi’s body stiffens at the mention trying to seem unaffected but Jungkook detects the slight change in his demeanour. ”Why do you ask? You’re not in love with my sister, are you Jeon?” He can’t stop laughing as he hears Hoseok accusing him immediately, he gets comfortable in his seat before answering. Waiting a little before responding to get a dramatic effect, he spends too much time with you as he realises he picked up some of your theatrical approaches.

”God, no. She’s my best friend I know too much about her to think like that.” His laughing subdues into small chuckles, he saw you at your worst and best moments, seen you naked by accident. You’re beautiful and funny but he doesn’t see you as a woman. Yoongi’s eyebrow twitches at the mention of ’knowing too much’ but Jungkook’s next words are the final blow for him to grip the armrest.

”I heard Taehyung is gonna ask her out and I wanted to know what you think about it.” Hoseok schools his features quickly after that, he didn’t know Taehyung liked you like that but he has no right to control your life or tell you who you can consider as a potential love interest. You can like whoever you want, he tried to show you his support when you introduced some of your dates to him and he’s going to keep his promise even when it comes to his friends.

You were always close but after he began to tell you who you can or can’t see your relationship became distant until he realised his mistakes, you forgave him easily because you love your brother a lot and he loves you just as much so after a heartfelt conversation between the two of you he promised not to do that to you ever again.

You’re aware he did this to protect you because you’re his precious little sister and big brothers could get unreasonably overprotective so after you almost drifted apart and even though you two talked it out. The fact that because of a boy you argued with Hoseok you decided you’ll never act on your feelings for Yoongi for the sake of your relationship. Jungkook doesn’t know that’s the main reason you keep avoiding Yoongi but he couldn’t have known because you two never touched upon the subject.

”It’s her decision.” Hoseok shrugs finally and Jungkook nods with a smile eyeing Yoongi who seem to absorb the answer he didn’t think he would get.

You’re aware of your feelings so it’s time for Yoongi to reflect on his thoughts and figure out what he wants.

Jungkook thinks that his plan might just work if he keeps up the good work. You can thank him later.

Taehyung is an unsuspecting victim caught up in Jungkook’s spider web to get you guys together. He likes every kind of art-related stuff and Jungkook showed him some of the origamis you folded for him as he has a few of the smaller ones stuffed inside his wallet under your graduation photo and of course when Taehyung asked you to teach him you agreed with the biggest smile on your face.

You took it as a great opportunity to get to know him better because you’re the least close to him in the group, not because you don’t think he’s a nice guy but before this there were not many occasions to bond with him.

He has the talent for it you realise this soon and you two spend hours inside the art room together folding new pieces after you’re free, he even suggests as a beginner what’s easier to make so the kids can be encouraged rather than making them do hard ones and be disappointed by the end result.

He visits you often and brings you tea to chat about art at first but gradually you get to know more about each other’s personal lives all the while you make origamis together. You skip lunch sometimes when you get too caught up experimenting with new shapes and Jungkook notices the displeased expression on Yoongi’s face every time someone asks about you and Taehyung’s whereabouts just to hear you two are yet again holed up inside the art room laughing and chatting.

He got even grumpier than normal and lashes out without any reason, the others dismiss his behaviour as he probably had a bad day but his best friend knows something is up with him, it’s not like he lashes out on the children because he smiles at them like he used to but his quick mood changes are getting on everyone’s nerves lately. Hoseok knows that something bothers him but every time he asks about it he says it’s nothing.

Jungkook sits beside Hoseok as he goes on and on about he has no idea what’s gotten into Yoongi lately and he’s close to rolling his eyes at him, no wonder you two are siblings he thinks. Both of you are idiots.

Yoongi didn’t show up for breakfast and you’re nowhere to find as well, he knows you’re not with Taehyung because he sits at the table behind him with Jimin and Seokjin telling each other funny stories about the kids. He shows some of the origami pieces he folded and Jimin compliments him while Seokjin tries to stuck one inside his pocket so a friendly banter breaks out at their table.

”.. and he doesn’t even tell me what’s the problem. Hey, Jungkook are you listening to me at all?” Hoseok waves his hand in front of Jungkook’s face who munches on the garnish almost finished with eating while your brother’s plate is full of food because as soon as Jungkook joined him at the table, since he couldn’t find you in the crowd, started complaining about how difficult Yoongi is being as of late and it’s too early to deal with this bullshit.

”Yoongi is upset because Y/N hangs out with Taehyung too much. If you look at the signs you would have seen that he obviously likes your sister but because of that stupid rule you made neither of them is acting upon their feelings for each other.” The outburst momentarily shuts up Hoseok, his mouth hangs open like a fish out of water blinking rapidly and it’s noticeable how the wheels are turning inside his head as he processes the information.

”Yoongi likes my sister?!” The three surrounding tables turn after hearing Hoseok’s signature banshee yell and Jungkook audibly sighs at the shocked expression he’s sporting like he suddenly grew four heads and three legs. He just might because the food is weird sometimes.

You tell Areum you have to pick something up from the art room and you’ll join her a bit later to eat breakfast hiding your hands in your hoodie’s pocket as mornings tend to be on the colder side, she gives you a thumbs up as she walks towards the dining room and you wait until she gets out of sight to turn on your heel.

You visit the art room first but what you’re searching for is not there and you head back to your cabin to see if you brought it back by accident without you realising it.

You made that origami star Taehyung whined to you about. He wanted to make one but it just can’t seem to look like it should be as he showed you his attempts. It took you a few tries to succeed as well since folding the edges were quite tricky to figure out.

On your way to the dining room, you bump into someone and the star you made end up on the ground slipping out of your grip. Raising your head instantly to apologise to the person, you were not ready to face Min Yoongi out of all people, he picks up the origami and hands it back dusting it off before giving it to you.

”Thanks.”

”Uh, everything’s alright? You seem to be in a bad mood.” You’re hesitant to address the elephant in the room, you didn’t really witness his mood swings as others because you spent most of your time in the art room but seeing him now with dark circles under his eyes a grim expression on his handsome face, it speaks volumes of how true it is, and you would hate to get on his bad side because you ask a question everyone probably asked before you.

”I’m fine.” Yoongi tilts his head towards the sky and sighs, you wait for him to say something else but that’s all he does before he walks past you.

You grimace at the lack of response, sure, things were awkward nowadays but he never straight out ignored you like that, he didn’t even look at you while he answered and left just like that.

When you join Jungkook and your brother for breakfast they have a weird aura around them and you’re itching to interrupt their silent talk as they eye each other like you’re not sitting right next to both of them.

What is wrong with anyone today, huh?

”Okay we need to do something, things can’t continue like this.” Jungkook places his hands on each side of his hips as he captures everyone's attention when he climbs on top of one of the tables like he’s about to give a grand speech about something world-rocking kind of important matters.

”I agree. I can’t even say something to Yoongi that doesn’t end with him taking my head off.” Jimin and Taehyung agree immediately since they had to deal with his temper for the most part.

”And what do you suggest we do?” Hoseok puts his weight onto the broom as he speaks, after Jungkook told him that his best friend is in love with his sister everything made sense in a way.

Why he asked about you a lot like how’s school or how’ life going for you, made sure to get something for your birthday every year, he thought that he’s nice to you because you’re his little sister, after all, he told him to treat you right. He couldn’t be more wrong about it, however. They are supposed to be best friends and Hoseok didn’t even know he liked you like that.

”I think you should talk to her Hobi. She doesn’t act on her feelings because she thinks you wouldn’t like them together, maybe if you tell her it’s ok to date each other they will end our suffering. I don’t think I can manage this moody Yoongi for another day he looked like he’s about to murder me in my sleep.” Because of Jungkook’s scheme, Yoongi went extra hard on Taehyung and the poor soul didn’t have a clue why he’s suddenly replaced as Yoongi’s personal punching bag.

Hoseok makes sure to visit your cabin after they are done cleaning and it would be an understatement to say he feels a little nervous. It’s weird that he’s here to tell you to go after his best friend as it is.  

He already had a talk with Yoong in their cabin before he came here and his friend seemed terrified when Hoseok told him he knows that he’s in love with his sister.

All the colour drained from his face and he actually took pity on him that it feels him with so much dread that his best friend knows he likes a girl, even if it’s his sister he’s happy that he found someone he likes.

Hoseok tells him that nothing is going on between you and Taehyung so he should stop torturing him, Jungkook just tried to make him jealous by saying that, it felt nice for both of them to talk openly about everything.

Yoongi told him about the party when he almost kissed her or when they would stay up all night talking to each other about everything and nothing, he shares his genuine feelings and admits that for a while he didn’t know what he felt for her but he wants to be with her.

You had similar reactions like his friend, at first you tried to deny the fact but later when Hoseok reveals everything and speak about Jungkook’s plan, you gave up to lie and instead tell him you liked him for three years and you tried to move on but you couldn’t that’s why none of your previous relationships seemed to work out.

Your brother feels stupid for not seeing the signs, maybe Jungkook was right and he’s really an idiot.

It’s awkward knowing that he feels the same way about you you’re not gonna lie, it feels like a dream but at the same time, you’re afraid one day you’ll wake up and realise all of this was just a fragment of your imagination.

Hoseok’s support was a pleasant surprise and even though you want to strangle your best friend with your bare hands for meddling with your business and literally shouting out to the world you love Min Yoongi to the moon and back moments ago to have everyone witness your face flame up you decide against all expectations and you give him a bone-crushing hug because without him all of this wouldn’t have happened. All that matters is that he likes you back.

”How did you know?” You curiously ask and Jungkook feigns he’s thinking about the answer whilst pinching your cheek, that smirk he wears when he’s about to say something stupid makes you reconsider. You shouldn’t have asked.

”I mean I discovered it recently so you were quite good at hiding it because normally I always sniff out your secrets right off the bat but as soon as I focused on your reactions it was easy to tell.” He points at Yoongi standing a few feet away next to Hoseok and he suddenly burst out laughing.

”I saw you running into a fucking tree when you saw Yoongi wet because Hoseok threw him into the lake.” You clasp your hand over his runny mouth before he can embarrass you further, you were not ready to see Yoongi blush so cutely at the comment while Hoseok doubled over because he laughed so hard seeing your face after Jungkook said that.

You denied it in a high pitched squeal. ”That fucking tree wasn’t there that’s why!” Everyone seemed to find your excuse hilarious as they laughed continuously at your attempts of saving your last piece of dignity but even Yoongi chuckled couldn’t contain his biggest smile to take over his features as he thinks you look so cute when you’re embarrassed, and you like him back.

”Can we see a kiss at least if we had to put up with grumpy Yoongi for an entire week, I really started to fear for my life, you know?” Jimin chimed in, it was endearing to see Yoongi turn bashful in front of you.

”Now that it was brought up Jeon Jungkook I can’t believe you used me like that! I had no idea why you suggested that I try to learn making origamis from Y/N. Our friendship is over!” Taehyung points at your best friend accusingly and he only scratches the back of his neck.

”I did it for a good cause…wait Tae where are you going? Look I’m sorry…” Jungkook chases after the former boy trying to hug him from behind but Taehyung doesn’t reciprocate it and your friend starts whining at that telling him that he’s so sorry while Jimin and the others unoccupied at the moment resumes their staring at the both of you to move and kiss finally.

Even Namjoon and Seokjin who were silent until now joins in and chants alongside the others to ”kiss kiss kiss kissss”

You let out a shy chuckle taking the first steps in his direction and his eyes go wide in surprise when your shoe touch. Kissing his cheek instead you tiptoe to reach his height so you can easily circle your hands around his neck and pull him down to hug you, it reminds you of the hug you shared with him before the whole trip to the summer camp started but this time it felt different.

His embrace was warm and inviting as he held you by your waist his chest vibrated against you as he laughed when your friends demanded a real kiss.

Yoongi found himself sitting beside you inside the art room as you explained how the kids can make bunny-shaped origami out of the grey coloured papers in front of them and his hand immediately found yours under the table to intertwine your fingers together once you sat down next to him.

You try to suppress a smile as you watch over the kids ensuring that they don’t cut themselves with the scissors but your body betrays you as you subconsciously lean into his frame he smells like vanilla extract and chocolate. He showed the kids how to make muffins in today’s lesson, it turned out good because Yoongi measured the ingredients while the kids only mixed and did simple tasks such as portioning out the dough or decorating the top of the treats.

Someone had two or three muffins left on their table as they worked, focused on their folding technique occasionally they stole bites making you and Yoongi giggling under your noses when you would catch chipmunk cheeks.

Yoongi helped you clean up after the lesson throwing out leftover papers and sweeping the floor before you joined the others for lunch.

Things changed in the group’s dynamics after you started dating Yoongi but overall they were happy to see both of you happy.

Even though Jungkook likes to make jokes about how you two are basically joined at the hip for days and soon after starts to complain about how you spend less time with him now that you have a boyfriend, he’s clearly happy for you. It’s a new situation for everyone and Hoseok has a hard time picturing you with his best friend but seeing you so happy with him he supports your relationship wholeheartedly.

After you’re done with the activities for the day you and Yoongi retreat into his cabin as everyone else stays at the campfire. They see the two of you slip away hand in hand, howbeit no one dares to comment on it but you see Jungkook having an inner battle to stop himself from yelling out ’use protection’ luckily Taehyung stuffs his mouth with a handful of chio chips before that could happen.

Your boyfriend pulls you closer by tugging on your intertwined hands caging you between his arms and the door, kissing the corner of your mouth he moves downwards to kiss over your jawline and neck, smiles into the juncture of your neck when you chase after his lips as he pecks your cupid’s bow next, impatient to feel his lips against yours you pull at a fistful of his hair guiding his mouth to capture his lip between your teeth. Yoongi grunts into the kiss tasting your sweet mouth never cease his hunger for you, only leaves him wanting more and more.

”I can’t believe you’re mine.” He seals his words over your feverish skin with in between kisses, marking up your neck, nibbling and kissing every inch until your breath becomes laboured under his sweet attacks.

You weave your fingers into his hair whilst a soft mewl leaves your parted lips as his knee parts your legs to brush against your centre.

He presses his thighs further into your throbbing pussy swallowing the noises you make getting lost in your body heat. He wants to take his time with you licking every corner and dip until you shake and pant his name.

”Wait. What about my brother?” You jump a little when you feel his hand on your ribs travelling up until he cups your breast over the shirt you’re wearing. Kneading your flesh over the fabric your body relaxes into his touch it’s enough to leave you breathless seeing his expression so earnest to please you, pupils dilated as he looks at you under his hooded lids it’s hard to control his urges when you look good enough to eat.

”He stays over at Namjoon’s don’t worry about him.” Yoongi catches your earlobe with his mouth biting down on your shell playfully, the sensation makes you heave a gasp, the words barely registering in your brain.

”Off. I want this off.” Feeling especially bold today you sneak your hands under his shirt caressing his sides with your fingertips, pecking his collarbone that peaks through the collar of his clothing. A whine resonates within your throat when your boyfriend steps back to pull his shirt over his head revealing his stomach and shoulders for your hungry eyes to feast upon disliking the cold air that fills the space once his body is not there to keep you warm, you pull him close diving in to connect your lips in a heated kiss tongue licking into his mouth.

His hands wander under your clothes this time mapping out your smooth skin following the lines of your sides to find the opening on your bra, once he gets the clasp open he traces your spine with his index finger grabbing your ass with both hands as his wandering hands reach south. Your moan gets lost inside his busy mouth that explores your hot cavern at the same time his hands cup you over the fabric of your leggings. It doesn’t give your throbbing pussy justice when he decides to rub your clit and drag his fingers over the dampening material.

”Let’s move things to the bedroom shall we?” The innocent peck he places onto your cheek makes your heart flutter, excitement and love mix inside your veins sweetening your blood as your pulse quickens under his adoring gaze. You nod kissing him again before you let him guide you to his door, not separating from your sensually moving lips as he blindly closes it behind your entangled forms.

He removes your pants and shirt in one go, letting the garments form a pile on the floor promising your sweet release with each removed clothing until the only remaining barrier that keeps your naked glory from his piercing gaze is slipped down your shaved legs, he feels how soaked the material of your cotton underwear had become after so little foreplay and he finds himself insanely turned on by the discovery.

Yoongi eagerly encloses his mouth over your erect bud eliciting airy moans when he alternates between sucks and licks on your sensitive mound paying equal attention to both sides as he massages the neglected one with firm hands whilst he blows air to the saliva coated nipples and watch your expression morph into torturous pleasure but he’s not satisfied with your shy suppressed noises.

Your slick oozes out of your empty opening running down your thighs and stain the bedsheet your clit aches to be touched and your hole clenches around nothing as your lover keeps his head between your boobs kissing and licking your skin there until your nipples get too sensitive to his touch, red and swollen when he rolls it between his fingers. His leg parts your thighs keeping them wide open so you can’t get any stimulation until he decides to move lower.

Seeing how you shake under his body parted lips keep asking him to give you more, he doesn’t have the heart to deny you any longer as he starts to rub your thighs keeping your legs open for him to bury his face between your beautiful cunt swollen and needy for his touch he lets his tongue dip between your folds tasting you first before gently sucking on your clit.

He hears you call his name perfectly in tune with his tongue’s strokes as he intends to eat you up. Your essence covers his chin as he licks your hole clean lapping up everything your precious body can produce for him dipping inside the tip of his tongue your muscles tense up ready to get filled with something bigger and Yoongi’s cock twitches inside the confine of his underwear.

He doesn’t need to remove his undergarments to know his tip is red and slick with his precum desperate to fill your empty hole up but before that, he coats two of his fingers in your wetness and pushes them inside parting your walls gently to ease you into the feeling preparing you to take his cock.

Your hips buck into his hand as he curls his long fingers inside your velvety walls feeling your muscles constrict around his digits he moans with his head thrown back as he imagines his dick getting the same treatment later, your musky scent and visual laying beneath him taking what he gives you drives him crazy with need.

Perking up at the sound you open your eyes blinking to get the blurriness fade dreamy half-lidded eyes watch as his fingers fill you up and you almost close them again because of the pure ecstasy his expert hands give to your overwhelmed body.

You see the painful tent that formed inside his briefs before the numbing pleasure could consume you yet again and there’s a wet spot in the middle that lets you know he gets off on seeing you enjoy yourself. His hips unknowingly to him ruts against the sheets to get some kind of friction realising that he focused solely on your pleasure and put it aside to chase his, he’s so different from the partners you previously slept with and the sudden urge to please him overtakes your selfish side to just receive and receive.

You palm him over the wet spot following the outline of his hard dick to give him some well-deserved relief and he immediately grinds into your palm letting out breathy groans and low moans, you don’t mind at all when he gets lost in your touch instead and momentarily forgets about his goal to get you prepped nicely for his cock. The fingers he has inside you stills and your head clear out a little, you’re able to focus on his face learning what he likes as you study his reactions to your movements, you know his moans will probably become your favourite sounds.

You take advantage of his current state to switch positions, letting his fingers slip out of you as you get rid of his underwear grabbing his thighs to lower yourself while he sits down at the edge of the bed.

Taking his tip into your mouth to taste his precum you feel Yoongi’s nails digging into your scalp as you swallow around him trying to get him into your mouth as much as your poor jaw can handle. Holding the base of his cock to guide him back into your wet cavern you set a slow pace, stroking what you can’t fit.

”You look so good sucking my dick baby.” You learned that he tends to be on the quiet side even in the bedroom, his reactions however are good indicators of how you’re able to affect him with every swirl of your tongue. Letting him use the hand tangled in your hair to set the rhythm of your movements your vision blurs as tears swell in your eyes due to the quickened pace and force he starts to fuck your mouth but he pulls out before he could get too close to cumming.

”I need to have you know. Lie down on the bed with your legs spread wide for me.” You follow his instructions showing him your drenched swollen pussy as he climbs on the bed after you, admiring the way he ruined your cunt before he reaches for a condom retrieving the item from inside his drawer.

He touches himself in front of you watching you squirm under his gaze as you wait for him to roll the condom down his length, your body aches to finally be filled with something bigger.

”Yoongi. Fill me up.” You part your pussy lips for him revealing your hole clenching around nothing, beckoning him to fill you up Yoongi looks at the sinful image in front of him saving this memory of you for later when he’s alone with his hands but today he plans to have your cunt wrapped around his cock rather than his fingers.

Your drenched walls suck him in as he enters you, hips lowering in slow motion to bury his entire length inside, nice and steady, gripping his shoulders for support you moan into the sloppy kiss feeling so full.

You hear his guttural moan loud and clear just as his breath hits the shell of your ear and your walls squeeze around him, wet squelching sounds ring beside your mixed love language thriving off the sounds he grunts directly into your ear encouraging you to meet his movements in the middle.

It feels like you stand in front of the gates of heaven when Yoongi increases his pace thrusting in and out, not being able to stop as he feels his balls tighten with the need to cum he parts your legs even more as he watches his dick emerge from the pussy he owns now coated in your juices taking his hard length and moan out every time his tip curves to touch your sweet spot with each delivered stroke.

You cum first around his dick, he helps you ride out your pleasure only pulling out when you whine from oversensitivity and he rolls the condom off to finish as well, watching your spent pussy glistening with your cum he uses the sight in front of him to get off, he collects your slick to lubricate his shaft as he starts to jerk himself off faster.

Once your breathing evens out and you see the concentration on Yoongi’s face while he lucidly moves his hands up and down his throbbing cock with the desperate need to cum you touch his hips drawing soothing circles onto his sweaty skin taking him back into your mouth to help him reach his high.

He comes in your mouth with a soft cry throwing his head back as you keep sucking him licking his sensitive tip until he pulls your head off with a shaky hand stroking your cheeks with his thumb.

”So friends and family, let me introduce you to my boyfriend Yoongi. You might have already met him before.” You joke in front of your relatives of all ages and you see in the corner of your eyes how Hoseok rolls his eyes.

© helenazbmrskai lll Please do not copy, reblog and like instead!

[missdawnandherdusk]

The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe

Hufflepuff!Reader X Draco

The tricky thing is yesterday we were just children

But now we've stepped into a cruel world

Where everybody stands and keeps score

So here you are, two steps ahead and staying on guard

Every lesson forms a new scar

They never thought you'd make it this far

Chapter 1     Chapter 2    Chapter 3    

Chapter 4     Chapter 5     Chapter 6

Chapter 7    Chapter 8     Chapter 9

Summary: Planning for something in theory is easy... putting it into practice? That’s where the weak are separated from the strong. 

A/n: Hello my lovelies! So here is the second part to the last chapter!! If I had posted it all at once it would have been over 20k words so... yeah. I split them up. Also, this gets pretty dark and well, we all know how HBP ends... so I guess that’s a warning. And to add, this went in a completely different direction than I planned, but now it’s closer to my original idea so... Let me know what you guys think! Seriously, I thrive on your approval. (Also, I’d like to see if someone notices a MAJOR problem for these two kids... because I barely caught it myself) 

“Oh, my darling boy,” Narcissa crooned, nearing Draco’s bedside. She took his hand though he was in a spell induced coma and could not hear her.

“I’m so sorry Narcissa,” I teared up. “I...”

“Snape explained it all my dear,” She consoled, reaching out for me. “You have nothing to apologize for,”

I all but collapsed in her arms, breaking down into tears as she held me. Though Abby and Pansy—as well as many others including Ernie, Blaise, Greg, Vincent, and Hannah—had comforted me and offered me a solace, it was different having a mother there to hold me and tell me it was going to be alright.

“It was awful,” I sniveled. “I thought... I thought...” I began to hiccup with the lack of oxygen due to my tears.

Narcissa shushed me softly and rubbed my back in a soothing rhythm.

“You’re alright darling,” Her voice was gentle. “Everything’s going to be alright,”

She stayed for the remainder of the night and came back the next day. I was only allowed a day off from classes before I had to return though Draco had still not woken. Though I knew there would be rumors and whispers, and though I expected to have to retell the harrowing story again and again, everyone already seemed to know. And more surprisingly, each student I came across was sympathetic and kind to me and even towards Draco, wanting to know how he was faring. Yet the thing that took me back the most was the amount of Gryffindors who offered their sympathies to Draco, rather than siding with their own Golden Boy. Even McGonagall offered her sympathies.

And for the most part, I completely ignored Harry. The best I could. Which... well. I’d like to say that I did, but I can’t. To be fair, he did try to talk to me on my first day back, two days after his attempted murder.

“Y/n,” He rushed out in the Great Hall as I sat down with Pansy and Abby.

“You need to stay away from me,” I gritted out, glowering at him. “You’re a coward!” 

“Look, I didn’t know what the spell would do, okay?”

“No! That’s not okay!” I stood. “You almost killed him! And you would have! Why in Merlin’s name would you use a spell if you didn’t know what it did!?” Bristling, Abby had to place her hand on my arm before I drew my own wand. Her gentle hand allowed me a moment to take a deep breath and cam myself, ever so slightly. “Just get out of here Harry. Don’t... don’t talk to me,”

“Come on, mate, let’s go,” Ron pulled Harry’s arm back, sensing the rising tension in his best friend.

“You’re... you’re not really going to...” Abby asked softly as we sat back down. “About being the bad guy?” She was almost timid to ask.

I sighed and shook my head.

“No,” I admitted. “I just said it because I was mad and scared. I’m not gonna go off and join the Dark Lord,” a sad smile played at my lips. “I... I feel like I have no choice... This path was forced into me because of Precious Potter and I... I don’t want to be angry. I don’t want to be broken... but I don’t want to be walked on,”

“And you don’t have to be,” Pansy encouraged. “We all have your back,” Pansy nodded to the Hall. “We’re on your side,”

“I don’t want there to be sides!” I dismayed, scrubbing my face. “I don’t want to be divided because we still do have the same enemy and...” I let out a sharp breath in defeat. “When did it all become so complicated?”

Abby said nothing but wrapped an arm around me, soothingly rubbing my shoulder.

“It’ll all work out, you’ll see,” She encouraged, sharing a look with Pansy. “For all of us.”

After dinner, as I always did, I went and saw Draco. His steady grey eyes trailed me as I rounded his cot.

“Hey,” He offered softly as I slipped my hand into his. Despite his many blankets and long sleeves, his hands were still ice cold.

“Hey,” I echoed sadly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” There was little confidence in his voice. “How’s class without me?” I scoffed and stared at the intricate carvings on the pillars of the infirmary.

“It’s not the same... nothing is the same...” The depressing thought left my lips before I could stop it. “I do miss walking to class with you though,” A small smile played at my lips at my gaze returned to him.

Wordlessly I reached out and brushed a few stray hairs from his face, my fingers ghosting over the pale pink scar that ran along the side of his face. Maybe fortune was on our side because though his skin was marred with scars, the spell hadn’t left permanent damage to his senses. His skin was still chilled under my touch.

“You’re still cold,” I murmured. “Do you want tea? Another blanket? I’m sure there’s a warming potion around here somewhere,”

“I’m alright,” His lips tugged upward. “Pomfrey and Snape said that it might happen, because of the Dark Magic...”

Worrying my lip, I nodded and intertwined my fingers with his pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“What’s on your mind?” His question was soft.

“Nothing and everything,” I smiled. “Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing... but loved most of all, when she went to sleep, to hear the Angel of Music...”

“Haven’t read that one in a while,” Draco mused softly. “I think they’re having a show in London over the summer holiday...”

I wanted to snap at him. I wanted to say that it was stupid to think about the summer. It was foolish to think we’d survive the semester. That going to the opera shouldn’t be a plan we made on some false hope that we’d actually make it.

But I didn’t.

Instead I entertained the idea. Just for a while. Even if it would hurt later.

“You’d take me then?” I mused.

“Well, of course,” Draco smiled, enjoying that I was playing along. “Of course, Pansy and Abby would come with us,”

I laughed softly at the thought. The false memory of the four of us in some opera house amidst twinkling lights, dressed lavishly, laughing and having fun. I could see myself on Draco’s arm as he held his head high, smiling soft at my antics. I could almost hear Pansy scolding Abby for her poor etiquette. I could almost feel the thrum of the music in my soul and the magic of the performance before me as I was enraptured again by another story.

“I’d like that,” I whispered softly, tears stinging my eyes. 

“Then think of it done,”

A silence fell between us.

“Can I stay here tonight?” I asked softly.

“Would you expect me to say anything but yes?” He quirked an eyebrow.

Curled up in his arms, again I thought of everything and nothing, utterly exhausted—mentally, emotionally, physically. Draco still offered a sweet comfort that I had never found in anyone else. A comfort that quelled my anxieties and allowed me to sleep soundly.

“Told you she would be here,” I heard Pansy whisper harshly. “It’s not like it’s the first time they’ve done it,”

“Yes, yes, you’re so smart,” Abby said flatly. “They’re still precious, aren’t they? Even now,”

There wasn’t a response. I shifted through my sleep logged thoughts and blinked my eyes open. Draco was still fast asleep beside me, his mouth hanging slightly open as gentle breaths passed through his lips. Abby and Pansy were forgotten as I watched Draco bathed I the soft morning light.

“Hey Feathers, Dumbledore wants to see you,” Abby nudged my arm. “I don’t think it’s good either.”

Fear and dread struck my heart as I froze.

“Did he say why?” I squeaked out, carefully slipping out of the bed, not to rouse Draco. 

“No, just that it was a serious matter,” Abby frowned at me. “Are you okay?”

“Do you really want the answer to that?” I mumbled. “Please stay with him, tell him where I am when he wakes up. And if he tries to come and find me, make sure he doesn’t. He’s still healing,”

Timidly I made my way up to Dumbledore’s office, a list of a thousand things that could go wrong sprinting through my mind, willing them all true. Those thoughts however, changed and funneled when I saw that I wasn’t alone in his office with him. No, Harry, Snape, and McGonagall were all present along with the old headmaster.

“Miss Y/l/n, thank you for joining us,” Dumbledore smiled kindly. 

“Yeah... okay,” I closed the door behind me. “What’s this about?”

“What happened in Myrtle’s bathroom,” Snape informed with a monotone voice. “Though I have thoroughly explained that what Harry did to Mr. Malfoy was much worse and you acted in self- defense,”

“Uh... okay...” My eyebrows furrowed. “What exactly did I do?” 

“What did you do? You used an Unforgivable!” McGonagall dismayed. 

“You tortured me!” Harry exclaimed.

“You attempted to murdered Draco!” I shot back. “What was I supposed to do!?” 

“As I said, she acted in self-defense.” Snape cut the tension with his calmed voice.

“That wasn’t self-defense, that was malicious intent,” Harry growled. “You have to mean the curse for it to do any damage,”

“Oh yes, and I’m sure your use of Dark Magic is completely justified,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “And are you really going to play the victim when I have every right to loathe you?”

“Miss Y/l/n,” Dumbledore interjected. “We are not here to point fingers, but rather here the entire story. Both sides.”

“Why isn’t Sprout here?” I looked around. “She’s my Head of House... shouldn’t she be here?” 

“This isn’t a House matter,” Snape clarified. “This is a matter of the Order,”

“Of which you are a member,” McGonagall finished. “Now please, your side of the story,”

My mind processed this information then I began my tale.

“Draco was having a panic attack, so I led him to the nearest quiet place that I could find—” 

“Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom?” McGonagall clarified and I nodded.

“I was comforting Draco—walking him through grounding and Harry burst into the bathroom. Draco got defensive of me, drawing his wand, and Harry cast a hex at the two of us... I remember telling Draco to stop... there was water everywhere. And then Harry,” I glanced over to the golden boy who was sulking in his chair. “Cast whatever awful spell that was. I didn’t think. The Unforgivable was the first spell that came to mind...” I paused, drawing in a sharp breath. “Then there was so much blood. Merlin...” I wrung my hands together in a desperate attempt to wash my clean hands of blood that was no longer there. “I did cast the spell, and I’m not going to apologize for it. I’m sorry for hurting you, but not for defending Draco,”

“I see,” Dumbledore nodded. “Well, it seems that all’s well that ends well,” 

Harry and I both sputtered, glaring each other down.

“She should be going to Azkaban!” Harry exclaimed.

“Oh, you should really keep your comments to yourself Potter,” I snarled.

“If I remember correctly Mr. Potter, you also cast an Unforgivable at Bellatrix not last year,” Dumbledore raised an ancient eyebrow at a fuming Harry who instantly fizzled out.

“You cast an Unforgivable and you have the nerve to accuse me! Oh, stars above Harry where does it end with you!?”

“That doesn’t count! She was trying to kill me! She killed Sirius!”

I stared at him in quelled anger. “Funny,” My voice was calm and even. “I could have sworn I did it for the same reasons,” I watched the color drain from his face. “But I get it, I’m not the Chosen One, I don’t get free passes, do I?”

“Miss Y/n,” McGonagall warned.

“Am I free to go? I need to get back to Draco,” I looked to Snape.

He gave a seldom and I rushed out of the office, practically running back to the hospital wing. Abby caught me in her arms, stilling me outside the door.

“Hey, talk to me,” She demanded. “What happened?”

“Harry needs to mind his own damn business,” I growled. “He told that I used an Unforgivable against him after he tried to kill Draco. After he already used one last year! And he has the nerve—”

“Y/n?” Draco’s shaky voice was a lot closer than I thought it would be. It had to mean that he was up and walking.

“Dray?” My anger softened to concern and hope. “Draco what are you doing up?”

“You could have given us more of a warning about how much he would fight us after telling him that Dumbledore wanted to speak to you,” Pansy muttered, Draco’s arm slung around her shoulder.

“Sorry?” I offered, taking Draco’s weight, freeing Pansy. “You need to stay in bed,” I scolded him softly.

“How could you think that I would? How could you just leave?” His voice was trembling and uncertain.

“I know, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” I led him back to his cot, setting him down gently. “Forgive me?”

He nodded as I pulled the blanket back over him. Pansy and Abby aided me in getting him settled again.

“This is so stupid,” He groaned. “I should be there with you,”

“A few more days, my love,” I comforted softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Then you’ll be back beside me,”

__________________________________

Draco’s eyes met the plated silver. His reflection mocking him. His pale skin was decorated— was that the right word? Ruined, perhaps—with faded pinkish scars.

Of course, his mother had been livid. Visiting him in the hospital wing more days than not until he was medically cleared to go back to class, she was there, pacing, muttering, threatening, demanding.

Your sentiments matched his mother’s but ever since the fateful day that Harry had taken him inches from death, you had gone silent with a cold ruthless fury. A look that only faded from your eyes when they met his. Then adoration was evident. Love and dedication was evident. Kindness.

As he stared at his reflection, the phantom memory of pain danced along his skin.

“Hey there handsome,” Your gentle voice caught his attention. Catching the sight of you in the mirror he turned, leaning against the vanity.

“I don’t remember you ever calling me that before,” He mused, slightly teasing—part of him wondering if you were just saying it to make him feel better.

“I know you Draco,” You pressed off the doorjamb you were leaning against and took his hands. “Self-assured, confident, absolutely gorgeous,” A smirk hinted at your lips. “But I know you’re unsteady right now.” Gently your fingers traced the scars on his hands trailing up his arm making him shudder.

“And what of you?” He asked softly, bringing your hand to his lips pressing a kiss there softly, reveling in the warmth of your skin; something that he had lost, his skin retaining an icy chill with the dark magic that plagued it.

“What of me?” You countered softly. “I’m quite assured that I’m beautiful to those who matter to me... call it vanity,”

A chuckle escaped his lips, your words reminding him of Pansy. “No, that’s no mystery. You are stunning,” Your arms draped lazily around his shoulders as you waited for him to continue. “Are you okay? I know you, and you’ve been... I don’t know. Withdrawn? Distracted?”

He feared the anger that flashed in your eyes until you seemed to blink it away. With the fluttering of your eyelashes the ire turned to sorrow. Your shoulders rose and fell with the deep breath you took.

“I’m tired of being walked on. I’m tired of people underestimating me. Of thinking I’m harmless or weak.” You paused but then your eyes met his pleading, “I know who I am, I really do. I’m just tired of other people not seeing it.”

Draco smiled at you, reaching up and caressing your cheek delicately. “And?” He knew you had more on your mind.

“I’ve had enough of Harry thinking he can get away with anything.”

Draco nodded. Before his prejudices against Potter had been just that—prejudices. Now? Now they went so much deeper. The hurt and pain that Harry had caused to you and him was something that couldn’t be brushed off. Draco’s anger matched yours when thinking of Potter, but maybe the difference was he had never seen it from the outside looking in.

“He almost killed you Draco,” Your voice wavered. “If Snape hadn’t shown up, you would have...” Tears pricked your eyes and you quickly shut them. “I can’t... I can’t lose you... and I never want to feel helpless like that again,”

Draco cupped your face softly, your eyes meeting his as quiet streams of tears trailed down your cheeks.

“And you won’t have to, but my love,” He sighed softly and pressed a kiss to your forehead before drawing you into his arms, “I don’t want you to lose yourself... I know you’re angry, and I know you’re scared... I know you wish it would all just go away, because I do too,” He sighed deeply. “But we can’t lose focus on who we are,”

“When did you become the wise grounded one?” You pouted into his shoulder, earning a small chuckle from him.

“Some girl brought me back down to Earth,” He mused.

“Must have been some girl,” He could hear the smile in your voice.

“Oh, she’s quite wonderful, I think you’d love her. I know I do,”

“Sap,” You accused, smiling up at him.

“And yet you love me anyway,”

“I do,” You pressed up on your toes, your lips brushing against his softly.

The day that he returned to class, as expected, he got plenty of stares. Students gawking at him and whispering behind his back. Not that it was new for him. But maybe you were right—he was unsteady. You still held his hand in the halls though, and still looked at him as you would a piece of artwork. And whenever he became uncertain about his appearance your gently smile and soft kisses created phantom memories that kept him grounded.

“Ginny and Harry are together,” Hannah gave off hand one day at dinner.

Draco’s eyebrows raised in surprised. Your face soured a bit as your eyes drifted over to the Gryffindor table where sure enough Harry and Ginny were sitting together amidst their friends. He pressed a kiss to your temple, pulling you a bit closer. The pout didn’t leave your face, but your focus reverted back to your friends before you.

Draco hadn’t spoken to or gone near Harry since he had been back to class. The only real struggle was Potions, but Harry seemed content on ignoring him, and with Ernie as Draco’s partner, Draco’s thoughts weren’t consumed with Harry. Ernie was actually quite pleasant in class, Draco had to admit. Though he was a bit reckless and impulsive in a childlike manor, but he wasn’t impossible for Draco to work with. In fact, Draco almost preferred to work with Ernie because Ernie didn’t treat him any differently after his near-death experience. It was a vein of normalcy.

“This should work,” You lowered your wand, running your hand over the mended Vanishing Cabinet. “We should be done,”

His eyes met yours. There was hope in your warm eyes. Draco gave a seldom nod and grabbed an apple from his bag. It was the first test. Though weeks ago, the apple had made it to Borgin and Burkes, the live finches you had sent hadn’t survived. You mourned the small birds and buried them beneath your tree by the lake.

The apple was closed behind the wardrobes doors and after counting to thirty, your hand gripped tightly in his, Draco opened the door again and saw that the apple had a slice cut out of it. You let out a steady breath and went to the golden wire cage, with gentle grace setting down the small bird into the wardrobe. You closed your eyes, refusing to watch as he closed the door this time. Thirty seconds again, he opened the door, and the small finch was there, staring up at the two of you, an apple slice in his mouth.

You let out a scream of excitement and joy as you gathered the bird into your hands and kissing its small head before setting it back in the cage to enjoy its treat.

The next was a crow, easily transfigured from a goblet. Draco ser the bird into the cabinet and closed the door yet again. The ruffling of wings faded for twenty seconds until he heard frantic cawing and agitated movements. Throwing open the door, the crow flew out. With a quick flick of your wand the crow was a goblet once more, falling harmlessly into the piles of rubbish around the two of you.

“I have to go,” You breathed out, words that he had been dreading.

“Y/n,” He refuted. “We don’t know if it’ll work for larger animals, Pinnae might not make it.”

“It worked for the crow,” You pointed out. “Pinnae can make it,”

“It’s too dangerous,”

“Draco,” You gave him a flat look. “I need to go,” You took his hands into yours. “It’ll be okay, I’ll be back. If not, I’ll just fly back here from Diagon Alley.”

“You make it sound so simple,” He nuzzled his nose to yours.

“Because it is,” You smiled, pressing your lips to his fleetingly. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

“Please be careful,” Draco dismayed as your morphed into Pinnae, fluttering into the base of the wardrobe.

Then he closed the door, trapping you in darkness. Thirty seconds had never been so long.

There was a knock on the door then it slowly opened. Your smiling face was shining as you crawled out of the cabinet.

“It works,” You breathed out, amazed.

“By Merlin it works!” Draco exclaimed, spinning you in his arms.

You laughed and held onto him tightly. The two of you celebrated with laughter that turned to tears. When the entire world seemed against you two, at least one thing went right.

“I love you,” You sniffled through tears.

“Stars, I love you too,” He breathed in the scent of you deeply, burying his head in your shoulder. “We’re gonna make it,” He was almost hopeful.

“We’re gonna make it,” You affirmed.

“Who’s there?”

You and Draco froze, staring at each other in paralyzing fear. 

“Hello?” The voice called again.

You sagged and let out an aggravated groan. “It’s Trelawney,” Gritting your teeth you let go of him, sighing. “I’ll go see what she wants. You get to Snape and tell him we do this tonight.” There was fierce determination in your eyes.

Draco nodded and watched as you made your way toward the exit. He could hear your faint conversation with the professor. Giving you five minutes head start, Draco slipped from the Room of Hidden Things undetected.

“It’s done,” Draco panted out, catching his breath after nearly running to Snape’s office. “The raid has to be tonight,”

“I see,” Snape rose. “And you’re certain?”

You burst into the office just then, also out of breath. “Harry and Dumbledore are leaving to go find something called—”

“Silencio!” Snape casted the spell on you, proving you mute. Infuriated, Draco drew his wand, stepping between you and the professor. “Calm down, she’s in no harm,” Snape rolled his eyes and lifted the spell. “But be careful with what you speak. It is wise to hold your tongue.”

Fuming, you nodded still.

Draco lowered his wand and took your hand.

“Now, you both know the task ahead of you?” Snape questioned. Silent nods affirmed the question. “Very well. He will be pleased, Draco. Very pleased indeed.” Another silent moment passed. “You have twenty-three minutes.”

Draco took your hand and pulled you into the hallway and along the corridors.

“Go, find Abby. Warn your friends. Warn your house. No one needs to get hurt. We’re already doing enough damage,” His voice was soft and gentle as unshed tears lingered in his eyes.

“I love you,” Your voice broke as he cupped your face and pressed his lips to yours desperately.

The kiss was hasty and despairing. Though neither of you would admit it, you both knew that it was a kiss goodbye. The warmth of your breath against his was the last of your warmth that he expected. The urgency of your fingers in his hair was the last of your comfort that he sought. The taste of your mouth was the last of your sweetness that he accepted. The softness of your lips was the last of your peace that he pursued.

“Twenty-three minutes,” He breathed out before letting you go and heading down to the murky waters of the Slytherin Common Room.

The Mark on his arm burned and Draco knew that Snape had called the others of the raid. A plan set into motion long ago, now coming to fruition.

____________________________

“Y/n!” Abby called my name as you burst into the common room. “What’s going on?”

My friends were all gathered in the common room as Abby tossed to me something small and shiny. A galleon. My galleon. From D.A. I might have cursed.

“How does he even know?” I chucked the galleon into the fire, watching it ricochet a flurry of ashes. My eyes met Abby’s. “It’s tonight,”

She nodded, knowing what it meant, knowing what was expected of her. A plan made long ago, that was now set into motion.

“Okay, this is going to get very bad, very quickly.” My voice trembled as I looked at all of the horror-struck faces before me. “But please, I need you all to keep the younger years safe. I need you to stay out of the halls until Abby comes and gets you.”

“But what about you?” Ernie asked.

“Look, you’re going to hear things. Awful things about Draco and me. And I can’t deny them, nor should I ask for your forgiveness. But please,” Tears streamed down my face. “Believe that everything I’ve worked for... everything I’ve done has been for this family,” I looked around the room. “I don’t have much of one by blood, but you? All of you... you’ve always been my family. And Hogwarts is my home.”

Abby’s arms wrapped around me and I could no longer hold back my tears. Soon there was a massive comfort pile and I was in the center of it. My friends, my family all there, all holding me close.

“So, what do you need us to do?” Taylor asked. I wiped my eyes and stood tall.

“Someone get word to the Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors that they need to stay in their dorm. You all have about fifteen minutes to be completely locked down. Cast protection spells. Silencing spells. Comfort younger years. Distract them. Do not take an order from anyone unless it’s Abby. Make sure she is not under a spell before you listen to her.” I glanced over at her. “This is a grave matter and lives are on the line tonight. One of which is mine. I don’t know what will happen tonight, but I won’t be coming back. Not for some while.”

“But why?” I didn’t see where the question came from.

“It will all be revealed soon. I love you all. And I hope that you all can forgive me after tonight. No matter what you think of me, please, don’t forget: have courage and be kind.”

They all nodded. I rushed up to my room, changing quickly into dueling robes, pulling my silver cloak on.

“Are you okay?” Abby asked, tying her hair back.

“I’ll be fine,” I drew her in for a hug. “Please just get out alive,”

“You too kid,” Abby smiled weakly, taking my hand. “Sister for life,”

“Hufflepuffs for life,” I finished, looking back one last time before taking off through the window and into the night.

With a soft thud I landed on Draco’s floor. He was expecting me. We didn’t embrace another, but instead got to work.

“The Hufflepuffs?” He asked.

“Warned and locked down. Word was sent to Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. The Slytherins?” 

“Secured.” Draco affirmed. “Seven minutes,”

“Okay,” I nodded. “The Mark,”

Draco looked out his opened window and chanted something short and unfamiliar to my ears and I watched as a snake coiled from the end of his wand in a thick green smoke and into the sky merging with a skull. I took his hand, standing beside him.

“I still don’t want to kill him,” Draco confessed. “But I’ll do anything to keep you safe,”

“Draco don’t worry about me. Your mother and I have a plan if things go wrong.” It was an easy lie as I met his confused grey eyes. I smiled softly. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

“The Astronomy tower,” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Go,”

I leapt out of his window again and circled the school, patrolling, watching two figures on brooms land on the tower I was destined for. The quiet night was eerily quiet as I landed, perched on a sill, watching Harry and a frail looking Dumbledore. I almost slipped out of Pinnae because of the regret that fluttered in my chest, but it was easily pushed aside.

I watched as Harry hurried over to the door leading to the spiral staircase, his hand just meeting the door as I heard running footsteps from the door opposite to Harry. My eyes trained and waiting for Draco missed whatever had caused Harry to keep fleeing.

“Expelliarmus!” Draco shouted, and I sprang into action, catching the wand in my claws and settling back on the sill.

Standing against the ramparts, very white in the face, Dumbledore still showed no sign of panic or distress. He merely looked across at his disarmer and said, “Good evening, Draco,”

Draco stepped forward glancing over to me then to the empty room. He was making sure that we were alone. I wanted to warn him that Harry was close, but I couldn’t not yet. Draco seemed to figure this out on his own however, as his eyes fell upon the second broom.

“Who else is here?” He demanded.

“A question I might ask you.” Dumbledore eyed me before his attention reverted back to Draco. “Surely you’re not acting alone,”

“No,” Draco said. “I’ve got backup.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said as if Draco’s actions were praiseworthy. “And won’t you join us Miss Y/n?”

Draco glanced to me, panicked. That wasn’t a part of the plan. I wasn’t to be human at all. No one was supposed to know that I was there. Not the Order or the Death Eaters and certainly not Bellatrix.

“I know that it’s you my dear, you might as well join us,”

It was a wildcard neither Draco nor I were expecting. Draco gave a seldom nod, looking utterly defeated. Against my better judgement, I morphed back human, wand in my hand as I took my place at Draco’s side, adrenaline and anxiety threading through my chest.

“You always were such a talented witch,” Dumbledore praised. “I assume you had a hand in this plan, finding a way to get the other Death Eaters into my school?”

“Yes,” I answered, my voice shaking.

“You do complicate things don’t you my dear,” Dumbledore’s eyes fell upon me. “To think if Mr. Malfoy never had you, what would have become of him.”

“I don’t dwell on what might have been,” My eyes narrowed at the frail headmaster. “But rather what is to come,”

“Ah yes, your little job,” A twisted smile curled on his face. “Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy,” said Dumbledore softly.

Confusion flitted across my face. Did Dumbledore know what we were here to do? How long had he known? Why the bloody hell hadn’t he said anything? A tense silence fell between us and I could faintly hear the fighting of Death Eaters and The Order occur somewhere below. I winced at the mental images.

“Draco, you are not a killer.” Dumbledore smiled. The words sounded cruel coming from his mouth rather than mine. Condescending.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” Draco snarled, gripping his wand tightly.

“Oh yes, I do,” said Dumbledore mildly. “You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley—”

“That wasn’t us,” I interjected. “You really think I’d allow that?”

“Well you are here to kill me, are you not?”

Silently I seethed, gritting my teeth.

“It wasn’t us,” Draco replied coldly. “And we never figured out who it was,”

“Very curious,” Dumbledore mused. “But you were saying . . . yes, you have managed to introduce Death Eaters into my school, which, I admit, I thought impossible...How did you do it?”

Neither of us said anything. The echoes of the fight below were deafening. My blood ran cold, torn between who I needed to win. One to protect Draco and I. One to protect my family.

“Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone,” Dumbledore taunted. “What if your backup has been thwarted by my guard? As you have perhaps realized, there are members of the Order of the Phoenix here tonight too,”

“The Order is here?” Frowning I met ancient blue eyes. 

“You think I wouldn’t have back up at my own school?”

Betrayal washed through me. I had no idea that the Order was here. That they were the guard against the raid that was merely a plan b. I never wanted them to get hurt. Why wasn’t I told that they were here? Wasn’t I apart of the Order as well? Then it dawned on me.

“You... you manipulated me!” I shouted. “You never wanted me as a part of the Order! You just wanted to keep an eye one me! Never for one moment did you believe in me!”

Draco winced at the realization of my words, as he took my hand, grounding me. 

“Who was I to go against your father’s wishes?”

“My father is dead because he believed in you,” I spat.

“He died for you. Not me.”

I growled dangerously.

“But never mind all of that,” Dumbledore waved the thought as if it were something easily dismissed. “And after all, you don’t really need help... I have no wand at the moment... I cannot defend myself.”

I ran my fingers over Dumbledore’s wand in my hand. It was urging me on, daring me to cast an Unforgivable. Begging me to. If I didn’t get my fury under control, Draco might not have to kill Dumbledore. Because I would.

A silence fell again.

“I see,” said Dumbledore patronizingly. “You are afraid to act until they join you.”

“I’m not afraid!” Draco snarled, though he still made no move to hurt Dumbledore. “It’s you who should be scared!”

“But why? I don’t think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe... So, tell me, while we wait for your friends... how did you two smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I hissed. “We had the plan since this past summer. We could have easily done it by Christmas, but Draco and I deserved another year together at our home,” My words dripped venom as they met the crisp air.

“We had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one’s used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year.” Draco explained because anger claimed my voice, deeming me silent.

“Ah.” Dumbledore’s sigh was half a groan. He closed his eyes for a moment. “That was clever... There is a pair, I take it?”

“We don’t have to explain anything to you,” I whispered, my eyes closed as I tried to reign in my anger.

“I see,” Dumbledore smiled. “But I suppose that I was incorrect when I assumed that you were not sure you would succeed in mending the cabinet and acted rashly? It does leave me to wonder who did almost kill Ms. Bell and Mr. Weasley.”

Draco’s grip on my hand tightened. He didn’t like the loose end any more than I did. “If you suspected us, why didn’t you stop us then?” Draco demanded.

“I tried, Draco. Professor Snape has been keeping watch over you on my orders —” 

“He hasn’t been doing your orders, he promised my mother--”

“Of course, that is what he would tell you, Draco, but—”

“But nothing!” I interrupted. “I think Narcissa means a bit more to Snape than you do,” 

“We must agree to differ on that, my dear. It so happens that I trust Professor Snape —”

“That’s marvelous,” I deadpanned. “But trust isn’t the same as loyalty,”

“Isn’t it though?” The old professor seemed as if he were having a hard time standing on his own without the help of the railing. I almost offered my aid. “But as for being bout to kill me, Draco, you have had several long minutes now, we are quite alone, I am more defenseless than you can have dreamed of finding me, and still you have not acted...”

Draco glanced to me and a gave a soft smile. The fear and uncertainty in his eyes caused my anger to morph into a fierce protection.

“I see,” Dumbledore went on. “I wonder why Voldemort has let you live so long Miss Y/n. You really do hinder Draco from what is expected of him,”

“Shut your mouth!” Draco snapped. “She is the cleverest, most brilliant witch I’ve met! If anything, she pushes me past what I should be and into who I am!”

“And who are you Mr. Malfoy? Are you a killer?” Neither of us answered. “There is little time, one way or another,” said Dumbledore. “So, let us discuss your options, Draco.”

“My options!” Draco scoffed. “I’m standing here with a wand—I’m about to kill you—”

“My dear boy, let us have no more pretense about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means.”

Draco’s aspiration to kill Dumbledore might be fading, but my desire for it was growing with each moment that passed as I untangled a web of lies and manipulation in silence about the frail headmaster before me.

“I haven’t got any options!” Draco despaired. “I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill her! He’ll kill my mother!”

“I appreciate the difficulty of your position,” said Dumbledore. “Why else do you—”

“No,” The fury in my voice was cold and unforgiving. “Don’t. You. Dare. Don’t you dare make yourself the martyr. You have no idea the hell Draco and I have been through together. Your chosen one almost killed him for Merlin’s sake, and you have nerve to offer a false kindness? As if you were blameless? As if you understood?”

“No, you can’t,” Draco agreed to the weight of my words.

“Come over to the right side,” Dumbledore continued as if I had never spoken, “and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban...When the time comes, we can protect him too. Come over to the right side, you are not a killer...”

“Like you protected my father?” I whispered softly. “When will you see we are on the side of good. But we’re not on your side.”

Dumbledore did not speak. His mouth was open, still trembling, as if to find the right words to manipulate us back to his side. 

But suddenly footsteps were thundering up the stairs, Draco and I turned, in fear. We were both buffeted out of the way as four black robes burst through the door.

It seemed the Death Eaters had won the fight below.

A lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer gave a wheezy giggle. “Dumbledore cornered!” he said, and he turned to a stocky little woman who looked as though she could be his sister and who was grinning eagerly. “Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!”

“Good evening, Amycus,” said Dumbledore calmly, as though welcoming the man to a tea party. “And you’ve brought Alecto too... Charming...”

The woman gave an angry little titter. “Think your little jokes’ll help you on your deathbed then?” she jeered.

“Jokes? No, no, these are manners,” replied Dumbledore.

“Do it,” said the stranger standing furthest from me. He had a deep raspy voice and almost barked the words. All of my instincts told me to run from this man.

“Is that you, Fenrir?” asked Dumbledore.

“That’s right,” Fenrir barked, and I understood. Fenrir Greyback, the savage werewolf. “Pleased to see me, Dumbledore?”

“No, I cannot say that I am.”

Greyback grinned, showing pointed teeth. Blood trickled down his chin and he licked his lips slowly, obscenely. “But you know how much I like kids, Dumbledore.”

I choked back a sob, struggling to stand upright. Faces of my family flashed through my mind. Whose blood was on my hands and on his teeth? My world spun as I tried to get it back into order. Draco’s arm wrapped around me, trying to keep me upright.

“Ah, the little harlot,” A familiar voice cooed. “I should have known you’d be the one to stop Draco from his task.”

My eyes flashed up, meeting Bellatrix’s.

“She’s actually helped quite a bit,” Dumbledore interjected. “She has my wand, and she’s the one who made your arrival possible,”

“Shut up you old fool!” Bellatrix sneered. “Now come along little prince, we are short on time,” There was an urgency in her voice that made me hopeful that perhaps the Death Eaters hadn’t won but merely escaped.

“Draco, do it or stand aside so one of us—”

I didn’t take note into who was speaking because just then, from the door that Draco had arrived, came Snape, rushing forward and taking in the scene before him. His eyes met mine then went to Draco’s before settling onto Dumbledore’s.

“Severus...” The plead startled me. My eyes turned to Dumbledore who for the first time tonight was begging.

Snape said nothing but walked forward and pushed Draco and I roughly out of the way. Draco steadied me and we both moved to the back wall, watching the other Death Eaters—even Bellatrix fall back without a word.

Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.

“Severus... please...” Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore. 

“Avada Kedavra!” It wasn’t my voice or Draco’s. But rather Snape’s.

Time around me slowed. Or maybe I could register everything around me all at once.

Dumbledore staggered back, falling, falling, falling down. Bellatrix cackled victoriously. Draco was a solace beside me, clinging to me as if I was his only lifeline.

“Out of here, quickly,” Snape ordered, glaring Draco and I down, a snarled look on his face.

He seized Draco’s cloak and forced him first through the door, with me trailing not far behind Draco. I didn’t bother to look who was behind me. Darkness fell over me and I proved blind. All I could do was cling to Draco’s robe and pray that wherever this darkness led, that there was a light somewhere at the end.

The darkness lifted as the starry night sky stretched before me letting me know that I was on the grounds of Hogwarts, not far from Hagrid’s.

“Go! Off the grounds and disapparate!” Snape ordered. “Go home!”

Draco and I stumbled as we ran through the dark. I wished nothing more than to morph into Pinnae and fly away, but I knew it was impossible. Just as we were at the outskirts of the grounds, Draco had to pull me out of the way of a bright red flash.

“Stop righ’ ‘ere!” A gruff voice called.

“Hagrid!” I called in relief until I realized I was no longer wanted here.

“Y/n?” Hagrid seemed just as confused as I was. “Wah are you doin’ ou’ wiff a bunch o’ Death Eaters?”

“I’m so sorry Hagrid,” I yelled into the darkness as Draco and I kept moving towards our freedom. “Take care of Steve, please!”

The distraction was enough to let a few black robes step foot off campus and disapparate. I turned back, a mistake, and saw Harry sprinting towards us, malice and torture in his eyes.

“I was right about you all along!” He shouted. “Don’t you dare show your face here again!”

Before I could respond, mostly just wanting to scream in frustration, Snape intersected the two of us, allowing Draco to grab my arm and pull me off the grounds.

“Y/n!” He called. “You need to disapparate! Go back to the Manor!” His eyes were wild and wide.

I nodded and wand in hand, I landed softly into the foyer of the Manor.

Of home.

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chapter 11

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[minyoonmeme]

Normalcy of the Pretty Posse

Chapter 1 

Word Count: 2494

Pairing: reader x ?????

Genre: like 90% fluff, 10% stupid jokes and bad humor

Description: Stupid Jeongguk and his cute sweaters and pretty posse of hyungs. 

(Disclaimer: This will probably have some typos. I started writing this instead of doing some Statistics homework and spent so long on it that I have zero time to edit. Sorry~)

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There was no game plan. There never really had been, at least not for me. Making it past 16 was something I had never foreseen, never imagined I could do. And now, here I am, alone in a country in a university far from home with no idea how life is supposed to go. Okay, maybe I’m being pessimistic because I’m not completely alone. I have friends if you count the two idiots who don’t let me drown in takeout boxes on weekends. They’re wonderful, they really are, I promise. 

Yoonjin is the sweetest person I’ve ever met no matter how much I want to strangle her into putting herself first. She’s the one who calls me about anything and everything. Don’t tell her that I secretly love that she calls me first when something happens. Chaebin is my right hand gal. My broski. My homegirl. My uh… well she’s great honestly. She’s all bark and no bite with the strongest affiliation for cute things, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. These two are pretty much my whole life other than the impending doom of my failing future that I have chosen to personally personify. Makes it less scary if it's punchable, honestly. 

“Are you gonna actually do your work or are you gonna stare at your coffee all day?

Rolling my head to the side, I eye Chaebin with the blankest face I can muster. 

“I didn’t ask to be criticized when I asked you to come to the library with me.” 

“No, but you did ask me to make sure you finish your paper in time for practice tonight. Yoonjin will cry if you let her go by herself again.” I groan, throwing my head against the cushion of the booth’s chair. She’s right, I know she is. I’ve missed two weeks of dance workshops and Yoonjin, without missing a beat, after every workshop comes knocking on my door teary eyed and sputtering about how she was all alone and lost without me there. Food usually helps soften her up. 

“You think she’ll forgive me if I miss just one more week?” Chaebin twitches her eyebrow up as she side eyes me from her computer. I slump even further and push my laptop farther away in favor of laying my head down. “You’re right. She’ll probably accuse me of abandoning her and our friendship if I skip one more time.” 

“I’ve literally seen you pump out a 12 page research paper in 3 hours, just go dance or whatever tonight and stress yourself later.” 

“Anxiety and Red Bull are a toxic combo, but I’ll have you know that I got a 94 on that paper.” Smiling smugly, I turn my head to look at her. She’s not wearing her glasses today, so it’s hard to tell if she’s glaring at me or blind today. “If I bail, are you gonna be okay by yourself? I can swing by afterwards with Yoonjin, so you don’t have to walk home alone tonight.” 

Her glare softens as she shakes her head no before grabbing some eyedrops. Oh. So she is wearing her contacts. “No, I’ll be okay. I came packing.” Her right hand pats her bag before she smirks and continues searching through her syllabus. 

I eye her bag warily and half jokingly say, “Please, tell me you don’t have a gun.” 

Her face scrunches as she stares at me. “Are you stupid? Why would I have a gun? I meant I have my phone and a taser. Do I look like I know how to shoot a gun?” 

I shrug and start packing up my bag. My joints scream and pop from being stationary so long. “I am, do I look like I know how to shoot a gun? You never know Chae, I could be a highly skilled marksman just waiting to take someone out. I might not even be a real college student, just a really good undercover assassin.” 

Her nose twitches as she clicks open a few browsers. “You almost cried last night when you saw a stray cat ignore you. I highly doubt you’re killing anyone these days.” 

“Animals love me and that one hurt, don’t use my feelings against me. Don’t you remember when you cried because you thought I was ignoring you last year?” Her face dropped as she coughed into her shirt, trying to hide the red splotches. “I was literally sick for three days and you came to my apartment with food because you thought I hated you. What was it you said? Something about not being allowed to hate you if you fed me.” 

“We don’t talk about junior year, I was going through it.” Her voice was tight, but I could tell she was amused. “It’s almost 6 o’clock, you should text Yoonjin and tell her that you’re not abandoning her tonight.” She slides my bag towards me and lets me scoot past her out of the booth. 

“Yoonjin and I will be by later to walk you back to your apartment around 9:30. Sound good?” My legs wiggle as I try and get a feeling back into them from sitting so long. When I stand there longer than normal, her eyes flash up as she nods and waves her hand at me to leave. 

To: Yoonjin the Trash Bin

You wanna meet outside the commons tonight or walk over together?

From: Yoonjin the Trash Bin

WAHH 

YOU”RE COMMING? No more awkwardly standing in the back by myself!?!?!? :)))))))

[crying egg dog.pdf]

let’s meet in the the commons

To: Yoonjin the Trash Bin

7? By the double doors upstairs?

From: Yoonjin the Trash Bin

No, no, no my friend come ASAP. We have much to discuss.

To: Yoonjin the Trash Bin

Uh okay???? See you in like 10 minutes I guess??? 

From: Yoonjin the Trash Bin

See you! <3

_______________________________________________________________________

“You actually did come.” Yoonjin’s hand reaches out and pinches my arm before she settles back against the wall. “I thought for sure your text was all some weird daydream I had conjured up.”

“Chaebin convinced me that our friendship was on the line if I left you alone at another workshop for the third week in a row.” My bag landed on the ground as I slide down next to Yoonjin. Her hair, newly cut and dyed to a short choppy greyish purple bob, was still something I needed to get used to. Yoonjin had failed her midterm last week and as a result decided that her hair would rejuvenate her life and, thus, her will to study. I still don’t think she’s bought her textbooks for this semester yet, but that’s not my business. 

“As she should! It was your idea to start coming to these dance things, and you left me!” Despite her anger, she still turned her smoothie toward me as an offering. “I look like a loose limbed monkey in there. At least with you there, you explain the steps to me.” I choke on the smoothie a little bit, as she crosses her arms.

“Loose limbed monkey? Yoon, you look fine! These workshops are meant for people who don’t have dance experience. It was your idea to try dancing, I just found a place to do it” Her face contorts as she sips on her smoothie again, shaking it to mix it up and get some frustration out. 

“It wouldn’t be so bad if people like you or Jeong-fucking-guk didn’t kept coming. It’s not fair to suck and then have to watch you two just like magically do it.” Her head gets thrown back with a thud as she grunts. Immediately I laugh and rub the back of her head in oder to soothe the soon to be ache. 

“I can go if you want since you seem to not want me or Jeongguk here apparently.” Her eyes dart over to me in the most non threatening but threatening way possible for someone like her. “Okay, so I’ll stay. Make your mind up Yoonjin, I can’t keep playing these games with you.” I click my tongue against my teeth as she smacks my thigh closest to her. “You said something about Jeongguk coming right? Since when does he come out to these things? I thought he was a dance and choreography minor? Shouldn’t he be with the big dogs or something in like a real class dancing?” 

Yoonjin hums, offering me the rest of her smoothie. It’s a green looking health smoothie from a self proclaimed health bar down the street. It’s for sure my favorite, and definitely not her’s, so I take it and nudge her as a thanks. “That’s the thing, I didn’t even know he went to these things. Usually I just hang out with you and everyone else who hides in the back with me, but last week he came up to me and asked if you were still coming.” I raise my eyebrows in surprise and nod for her to continue. “I told him you’ve been busy and he kinda just nodded and shuffled away. He did tell me to tell you to take it easy though.” “Were you ever planning on telling me that a boy approached you about me?” 

“I'm telling you now and that’s all that matters. Besides, I thought you swore off men after the mishap freshman year with that one Tinder date.” 

Immediately my face heats up, and I grimace at the memory. “We don’t talk about that for a good reason, you brat.” If she’s mad I called her a brat, her smug smile doesn’t show it. I go to open my mouth and further yell at her for bringing up the traumatizing story when a pair of black heavy boots skids to a stop by my stretched out legs. 

Okay, so here's the thing about Jeon Jeongguk . He is terrifyingly good looking. So much so that looking at him hurts, like physically hurts. Jeon Jeongguk could punch me in the face and I would say thank you for the attention and bow before passing out. Okay, that’s perhaps way too far but he is attractive and built. God, is he built. And he’s not even an asshole about it! Most guys who exercise thrive on showing off their bodies and flaunting their muscles. Not Jeon Jeongguk , though., Nope! Jeongguk wears sweaters and button ups that make him resemble a Korean version of Mr. Rogers. All smiles and kind eyes with a heart of gold. Men like Jeongguk are the reason I have heart issues and top notch acting skills. 

“You’re back!” My eyes blink a few times at Jeongguk before I register that he's looking at and me actually speaking. When I don’t say anything Jeongguk fiddles with the sleeve of his shirt and looks at Yoonjin before letting out a cough. He speaks a little calmer now, more airy and rushed. “Yoonjin said you’ve been busy and I was worried you weren’t gonna come back ‘til next semester. Not that I worried about you or like not not worried about you, but uh…” He sputtered a little and lets out a small huff of air before ruffling his hair back. My lips pressed together as I swing from internally swooning over his cuteness to the attractiveness of him pushing his hair back. “It’s good so see you back. Hobi hyung, says it's good to have some experienced people in the class to encourage and help beginners.”

“Is that why you keep coming too?” 

Maybe he doesn’t expect my question or for me answer him at all, but he blinks a little too hard and shyly looks over my shoulder rather than my face. It’s cute and maybe it makes a smile break out on my face. Just maybe though. “Yes! Hobi-hyung asked me to help him since he can’t uh ya know help everyone at once.” He doesn’t sound too sure of himself, but I let it go seeing as this is our first comprehensible conversation. 

“That’s sweet of you to help your hyung for free. Does Hoseok-shi think I’m there to do the same? I feel a little bad missing the past two weeks if you’ve been doing it all by yourself.” I frown and pinch my eyebrows a little tighter, looking the direction of the doors. Should I apologize? Yoonjin beside me, I can tell, has grown more and more interested in our conversation as she undoubtedly is texting our group-chat with Chaebin about what's happening. She nudges me to focus when the conversation stalls a little. The nerve of her, I swear.

Jeongguk , getting redder and slightly more panicky, shakes his head no a little too roughly. His hair looks a little messed up, and I nearly squeal with the need to fix the adorable mess that he is right now. Outside, however, I just smile softly and encourage him to explain. “Hobi-hyung and I are okay, you’re just like an added bonus to class cause you know you obvious have some experience with your technic and seem to pick up the dances quickly.” It’s a little rushed, but I think I make out everything he’s saying.

“Are you trying to say I’m a good dancer Jeongguk ?” It’s meant to be lighthearted and playful, but Jeongguk physically widens his eyes and looks everywhere, but in my direction for a few seconds before he stops trying to voice anything out just nods. My hands clasp in my lap as a I suppress a smile and will the flush to disappear from my cheeks. “Thanks, you dance really well too. I can see why you’re studying dance.” 

Jeongguk whispers the faintest, “Thank you,” before shoving his thumb in the direction of the door indicating that he’s gonna help them set up for the workshop. I wave goodbye and watch as he does the same and dashes behind the door. Now that he’s gone, I can breathe a little easier. That was probably the weirdest experience I’ve had today, or this week for that matter. Pretty people don’t just go up to me and talk, let alone me of all people. And when I say pretty people, I mean pretty people like Jeongguk and his pretty posse of friends.  Jeongguk and his hyungs are just uncommonly so pretty and somehow together all the time. Even now Jeongguk is inside with Jung Hoseok, a graduate student who hosts the beginner dance workshops on Thursday. The fact that  Jeongguk even talked to me, or asked about me last is enough to twist my insides a little. Normal people talk to people all of the time, but  Jeongguk was not normal and his hyungs are not normal. I mean they are, but they project this ethereal aura that just intimidates everyone. So, why for the love of God was Jeon Jeongguk just talking to me?

“Are we gonna talk about what just happened or are you gonna keep staring at the door?”

“Shut up, I'm trying to process everything.”

[penaltbox]

mistakes we make - alex turcotte

Word Count: 2.2k

I looooved this request and I loved writing this one!! If you like it please let me know!

__

The two pink lines stare up at you, seeming to mock the fact that this was your life now. How on earth were you supposed to raise a baby while you were in college? Your parents would probably help however they could, but that wouldn’t even be the hardest part. 

You didn’t have to guess who the father was, even though you were barely official. You and Alex had been messing around for months now and a few weeks ago he said he wasn’t seeing or talking to anyone else and it had been that way for a while on his part. You on the other hand had been head over heels since the first time you kissed him. 

You let a hand rest on your stomach, the worry setting in so fast that you almost missed the excitement. You had always wanted to be a mom one day. Of course, you figured it wouldn’t be until way later when you were married and everything, but maybe this was somehow a good thing. Maybe there was some silver lining with all this. 

Or maybe that silver lining would be destroyed two days later. The news doesn’t even come from Alex, but instead from a tweet that some LA sports reporter sends out, tagging Alex in it. He signed with the Kings and he wasn’t coming back to Wisconsin the following year. 

The following year... when you’d have a baby and would be continuing your education at your dream school. The panic sets in even harder then and you wonder when you should even tell Alex. 

It wasn’t the right time or the right place, and you probably weren’t even the right people for each other. But now there was a tiny human relying on you and that made all your decisions that much more important. 

You finally swallow your pride, decide you’re keeping the baby regardless, and figure you have to go tell him as soon as possible. He deserved to know, even if he was probably busy with NHL stuff. Half of this was on him. 

You pick up your phone and send him a quick text, not trusting your voice, ‘can you stop over today?’

You watch the screen, hoping he’ll reply quickly. He was usually pretty good about these things and you knew he always had his phone in his hand. Except today for some reason he’s not texting you back, so you get up with a huff and start to clean your room to try and keep your mind busy. 

Alex busting through your door catches your attention and he throws his hands up, “did you not see my text? You can’t say something like that and then not respond! I thought you were dead or something.”

Your eyes go wide and you grab your phone, noticing a handful of texts and one missed call from the boy standing across the room. You give him a bashful smile and walk over to him. 

“I’m really sorry, Al,” you apologize, “I’m not dead though, if that’s any condolence.”

He laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning down to kiss you gently, “I’m really glad but you scared me.”

You try and smile at him then, knowing he’d be seriously scared in a minute. You both had news to deliver and neither was good. He’s the first to sigh, his demeanor softening as he kisses your forehead. 

“I have something I need to tell you... and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner,” he starts, cupping your cheek, “I’m signing with the Kings this week. They want me to move up for the rest of the season.”

You knew this was coming, but it still hurts your heart to hear it from him. There’s a helplessness that washes over you then and you swallow hard. You nod, knowing you had to spill your news next. Both your lives were about to change forever. 

“You okay?” He asks, hugging you tight against his chest, “I’m sorry, I really am. If I could take you with me I would, but I know you love it here.”

You bite your lip and realize you have to just tell him. You can’t waste any more time and you’d have to rip the bandaid off to get this over with. 

“Alex,” you say hesitantly, forcing yourself to look up at him, “I need to tell you something.”

He frowns a little, “oh? Go ahead.”

With one last deep breath you put it out into the world, “I’m pregnant.”

Alex’s arms immediately loosen and drop as he takes a step back from you. Your heart sinks and you try to swallow around the lump that’s growing quickly in your throat. He’s shaking his head as all the color drains from his face. 

“No, come on. You’re not... what? No way. Is this a joke? Are you mad because I’m leaving?” He says, trying to keep himself as calm as possible. 

“I’m being really serious right now,” you whisper, crossing your arms tight to try and feel like you were holding yourself together. 

Alex runs a hand through his hair, nervously biting his bottom lip. He mumbles out a couple swear words before he seems to burst, loudly saying, “stop, this isn’t funny!”

“I’m not trying to be funny! This isn’t some fucking joke to try and get you to stay! I know you’re gone after this week and it’s scaring the shit out of me,” you retaliate, not expecting him to lash out the way he was. 

“No, no,” he laughs a little, his mood shifting in an instant, “this is bullshit. Are you trapping me? Why are you telling me today?” 

You feel your blood boil at his accusation, “fuck you, Alex. I would never trap you. What is wrong with you? This isn’t a joke and before you even accuse me of anything else, you know it’s your kid. You know damn well it is.”

“I don’t believe this. There’s no way you happen to be pregnant the same day I sign my NHL contract,” he says, crossing his arms. 

You clench your jaw, trying to compose yourself a little, “Alex, listen to me. I have no reason to trap you when I already had you. But if you’re going to sit here and accuse me of something like this then you can get the fuck out and never talk to me again.”

“I don’t have time for a baby. I have to move to California and play hockey,” he says with a shrug, like it’s just that simple. Like this is just some joke you decided to pull on him today and he’s not in the mood for it. 

“Then go. I don’t need you.”

He stands there for a moment, seeming to think things over. Finally he sighs and heads for the door, leaving without another word. As soon as the door clicks shut you lose all composure, the tears coming so fast you can’t stand up any longer and you have to focus on breathing. 

You let yourself cry on your floor for what feels like hours. The last thing you had ever expected was for Alex to balk on the responsibility and walk out the way he did. When you finally wipe your face off you look down, rubbing a hand over your still flat stomach. 

“I’ve got you, okay? I’ll make sure you’re safe,” you whisper, though you know the baby can’t hear. But it’s a promise just as much to them as it is to yourself. 

And it’s a promise you keep. You knock your grades out of the park that semester and take a couple summer classes to get ahead. Your parents surprisingly don’t murder you, especially once they hear that Alex walked off with no mention of helping. Things go better than you expect them to and the little boy you have ends up being everything you never knew you needed. 

__

When Alex comes back to town after the following season, you have no idea. You cut ties, blocked him on everything, and moved on as much as you could. You still saw the boys in town sometimes and most of them had even met the baby. 

At five months old, he was really developing a personality. He smiled so much and was so good natured. His dark hair and the dimples that were almost always present on his little face made your heart ache almost every time you looked at him. He was nothing but a tiny copy of Alex. 

Alex rings Cole and Owen as soon as he comes back to Madison in May. The boys stayed over for a training session in early summer and they were more than happy to have Alex visit. Alex agrees to meet them at one of the restaurants on State Street to kick off their little reunion. 

It starts off normal and fine, but Owen cracks eventually. He’d seen the baby more times than anyone else and had a bit of a soft spot for the whole situation. He sighs and looks across the table at Alex, letting the question drop. 

“Have you reached out at all? Have you heard about the baby?” 

Alex’s eyes flick over to Owen quickly, his jaw clenching at the inquiry. Owen knew damn well that Alex hadn’t tried to contact you. Alex crosses his arms as a pissed off look comes over his face. 

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Lindy. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Alex scoffs, shaking his head. The truth was, he’d avoided even thinking about it all. He hadn’t reacted the way he wished he would have but he got the message that you really wanted nothing to do with him when he found he was blocked on everything. 

“So you’ve never even seen him then?” Cole asks, not thinking twice about the phrase. 

Alex’s ears perk up though, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table, “him? It was a boy?”

The two across from him nod and Alex finds himself thinking about it suddenly. How old was he? What was he like? Who did he look like? He starts to stomp the idea down, knowing he’d messed up too much to even consider reaching out now. 

Owen fiddles with his phone, pulling something up. He hands it over to Alex and it puts everything to a halt in his life. He looks down at the screen and sees the little boy in your arms as the video plays. You’re both smiling and he knows it was taken on campus recently. 

The baby has a Wisconsin shirt on and a dimpled smile with big brown eyes that Alex is all too familiar with. You look so happy as you lift the little boy up and bring him back down to kiss his cheek. Alex can tell you’re a great mom just from the short video and he watches it a few times over as he tries to commit it to memory. It’s the first time he’s ever seen his own kid. 

“Holy shit,” Alex whispers, setting the phone down and putting his head in his hands. He feels sick suddenly and too hot despite the nice breeze that’s flowing through town. 

“Turcs, are you okay? You look like you’re gonna pass out,” Cole speaks up, a worried look on his face. 

“That’s my-,” Alex mumbles, stopping to take a deep breath, “that’s my fucking kid. I bailed on them.”

The other two boys glance at each other, not having expected this reaction. The way Alex had always approached the situation was from a place of detest. He figured you were lying because of him signing his contract. He swore it was a set up to get you locked in to whatever he’d be earning. He’d never been more wrong in his life though. 

That little boy was the spitting image of him and no one could deny that. He knew at least a hundred pictures at his parents house that looked just like the little guy he’d been shown. He feels a lump in his throat as he picks the phone up again and goes through your Instagram, the one he’d been blocked from seeing. 

There’s so many pictures of the baby and he can’t pull his eyes off the page. He scrolls and scrolls until he gets back to before the baby was born. There’s still a picture up of you and him. He taps it and the memories from that night come flooding back. You’d all gone out and you two had been inseparable, just like you always were. He knows exactly what the caption used to be below the photo, but it’s different now. You’d changed it at some point over the last year and now it makes him want to cry. 

‘Always my favorite’

Alex looks at his friends, a sudden urge to fix things running through him. He had messed up so much and somehow you still left that up. You still let people know he had meant so much to you. He couldn’t let this go any longer. He had to make things right. 

“I need your help, you guys. I need to meet my baby.” 

[theymakemegayer]

Reputation: Chapter 2

author’s note: In a few hours we will have another QB update, and I have so many mixed emotions about the next chapter... Here’s something I hope can make you guys feel better.

PLEASE TAG POEPLE WHO WANTS TO READ POPPY X MC FICS. I know today’s update will mess up the tags for Poppy.

TW: for a little cursing, I tried to censored it tho

Chapter 1

********************************************************

After parting ways with Zoey, I enter my classroom for my first subject. My eyes scan the vacant seats. I had just put my laptop down when someone spoke behind me.

 "Well, isn't this very exciting. Bea Hughes." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, turning around I was met with Chloe frowning at me.

 "You've got to be kidding me. You again?"

 "You think I enjoy seeing your face early in the morning? You must be still asleep and dreaming newbie." She crossed her arms in front of her. 

 I laughed humorlessly, "Don't try to be funny."

 Her lips tugged into a smirk, "You know what would be funny right now?"

 I raised my eyebrow, a part of me starting to get nervous. This was definitely bad news. Plastering a smile, she casually dumped her coffee on my laptop. My eyes grew wide. She laughed at my reaction.

 I scowled at her, "What the hell is wrong with you?" 

 A voice interrupted us. "What is going on here?"

 I turned around and my eyes landed on Ina standing at the top aisle, a briefcase in hand. Holy Shi-?

 Chloe smiled at her, "Nothing Professor Kingsley. I'm just helping Bea clean up the coffee she spilled in her laptop. She is so clumsy."

 My mind blacked out for a moment, all I can think about was Chloe calling her Professor. Like falling down on the ground and being slapped by reality, realization hit me.

 "Y-you're my professor?" I managed to voice out.

 Ina cleared her throat then plastered her professional smile. "If you're in my Behavioral Science in practice course then yes." Then she proceed on the podium ready to start the class.

 I sat weakly trying not to look at Ina. I took a couple of breaths calming my racing mind and heart. 

 This should be some kind of joke right? I cast a look at her surprisingly she also looked at me at that moment. I avoided her gaze.  I groaned internally. God this is so awkward and messed up.

 After my grueling and awkward first period I rushed out of the classroom calling Zoey and wanting to meet her in our dorm. 

 I was already in our dorm building when someone called me out.

 "Bea! Wait up!" I turned around and saw this random guy power walking towards me.

 "That clapback against Poppy yesterday was all over my social media. It was epic!" He said once he was in front of me.

 "Oh... thanks?"

 "You don't know how much it means to me that someone is finally standing up towards Poppy. I'm totally on your side."

 "Thanks. I'm happy to stand up too towards people like that."

 He grinned, "I'm Benji by the way. Your residence advisor. If you ever need anything, I'll be here."

 "Thanks Benji, but I need to go already." I glance at my wrist watch.  "I need to meet up with a friend. It was nice meeting you Benji."

 "Sure! it was nice talking to you, Bea." He said waving goodbye to me.

 Once I arrived at our shared dorm memories of my dilemma and stress came back into me in full swing. I was pacing back and fort in our living room area when Zoey arrived.

 "Hey you okay?" She slouched on the couch facing me.

 "Zoey..." I pouted. 

 "What happened? It's sounded like some kind of emergency when you called."

 I sighed and plopped down beside her. "It is." I huffed before telling her what happened.

 "Okay you what now?" She exclaimed looking me dead in the eye.

 "Ina... Professor Kingsley she was the one I met at the speakeasy last night." I groaned hiding my face on my hands.

 "You guys kissed?"

 "We made out to be exact. Thank God you called me last night Zo. I don't know how messed up it will be if I happen to sleep with her." I groaned again. 

 "You sure you don't like her Bea? Almost everyone in Belvoire has a crush on her. And you happen to even made out with her. Heck you were so close with sleeping with her too."

 I groaned removing my hands on my face I looked at her in the eye, "Please don't remind me and Zo having a crush is different with practically making out with her."

 "Oh then let me add that apart from having a crush I'm sure some of the students thirst for her." 

 I sighed, "Well yes Ina is attractive, but knowing that she's my professor. I just can't Zoey. Seeing her a while ago became so awkward to me."

 Zoey wrapped me in her embrace. "Sorry I should have known you're really different from the people around here Bea." 

 "This scholarship I have is really important to me Zo. I can't afford to be this careless and lose this." My voice was muffled in her shoulders.

 She caressed my back soothingly, "I'm sure you won't lose this. Have you talked to Professor Kingsley yet?"

 Sighing I withdrew from our hug, "Not yet. I was so shock seeing her a while ago. I can't talk to her yet nor be left alone with her."

 Zoey frowned, "You seem really stressed about this Bea. Wanna go out again tonight?"

 I raised an eyebrow, "What's on your mind?"

 She grinned, "Let's crush the Alpha House's Welcome Week Bash tonight! It'll help with your ranking, you'll have a good time and maybe will bump into Poppy there and piss her off." 

 The moment she mentioned Poppy, I swear I was already sold to crush this party, but of course I won't admit that to anyone specially not to Zoey. She'll get mad if she knew.

 I beamed, "Okay you had me sold with pissing Poppy off. " A little lie won't hurt right?

 **********************

 We arrived at the party an hour ago. The only 'almost' mishaps we had was getting inside - which was an easy job if you had me and Zoey; with the right charm and words Michael let us in. The music was blasting loudly, the people occupied with different games and drinks, and the frat boys diving once in a while in the jello pool - the party was in full swing.

  "Bea! Bea! Bea! Bea! Bea!" People chanted as I won another game. I grinned at them when a clap suddenly cut through the cheers.

 "How lovely. Luis and his brothers already done with their charity work for this semester. Don't mistake it for kindness Farmsville."

 I turn around at the sound of that voice and came face to face with Poppy. She's with Chloe and I think that was Veronica who was busy with her phone.

 I rolled my eyes, "I was starting to think when you will show up and grace us with your presence, Poppy."

 She rolled her eyes, "I must say hanging out with the boys is definitely a step up from this another nobody." She gestured dismissively towards Zoey without taking her eyes off me. "You know I think we can be friends Farmsville. You clearly learned how to dress up too." Her eyes roamed at me. Oh God. Please this is torture. I tried to school my expression even though my mind was about to explode. Her eyes finally landed on my face a smirk ghosting on her lips. Bea focus.

 "And why would I want to be friends with a bully like you?" I crossed my arms staring at her hard.

 "Because I ran this school. You have two options here, I can make your stay here like a living hell or..." She grinned sweetly, "I can make it heaven. All you have to do is leave the dead weight here." She smirked at Zoey who was glaring at her.

 I frowned not liking how she addressed Zoey, "You know what Poppy? Zoey is better than you in every way." I step closer at her standing in my full height. "If you wanna be friends with me" I smirked, "Here is a little tip." I leaned closer and I swear did her breath hitched?  I whispered, my breath tickling on her ears making sure she was the only one who can hear it, "I just need you to be Poppy, not Poppy Min-Sinclair or any of these masks you wear, just you." I leaned back and plastered my sweet, sweet smile as I watch Poppy's dumbfounded reaction - and something I can't name flickered in her eyes.

 Not even a second passed when she scowled at me, "You wish Farsmville. We ran by my rules not yours."

 I sighed dramatically, "Well it's your lost then." I stepped back and smirked at her. 

 She was about to speak again when Ford interrupted us , "Hold that thought." He ran towards the pool and dived.

 Poppy shrieked darting away from the spraying jello. Carter - which I found out to be Poppy's boyfriend slung his arm around Poppy. "It's just a little jello babe. C'mon let's jump too! It'll be fun." 

 Wriggling free from Carter she glared at him, "Do I look like I am dressed for a swim on that colored sugar?"

 "But -"

 "Hang on!" Luis suddenly interrupted. "Sorry bro. I'm just thinking, Bea seems really cool I bet she'll love to join the fun and swim in the jello pool. What do you think?"

 "I mean, I'm always up for new experiences." I stated with a grin. 

 "See! Come on Bea!" Luis cheered.

 Grinning as an idea popped in my head I yelled, "Poppy hold your breath!" 

 Shocked she spoke, "Why would-"

 But before she can even finished her sentence I was running towards her and pushed her towards the pool. She shrieked, "BEA HUGHES!"

 "Can't let her have all the fun." As I leaped in the jello pool I can hear people cheering, a bubble of happiness surged through me.

 When I finally got up I saw Poppy completely mufunctioning, "There's like jello... in every crevice of my body."

 I inched closer to her, "Was jello pool that bad?" I laughed when she threw me a glare.

 "This is your fault Farmsville." 

 I raised my hands in mock surrender, "Hey I just wanted you to let lose a little." 

 "Stop talking to me." She growled. Oops is she really pissed off now?

 "Cannon ball!" Luis yelled only dressed in his underwear as he dove spluttering more jello towards Poppy and me. 

 Poppy shrieked again. I can hear Chloe desperately saying, "Somebody help her. She has a jello phobia." While Michael laughed, "Nice look Pops! The green really brings out your eyes."

 Poppy screamed finally reaching her limit. Carter finally helped her out of the pool bringing her some towel. 

 "I AM GOING TO KILL YOU ALL." She yelled one last time before sprinting inside, while Chloe and Veronica followed her.

 Feeling a little guilty I decided to get out from the pool to dry myself up. 

 "Bea!" Zoey called out for me. I sat at the edge of the pool and she swam closer to me. She smirked, "Love how you pissed off Poppy."

 I smiled at her trying to bury the feeling of heaviness inside of my chest. "And I love how pretty you look right now." 

 Zoey laughed, "Flutterer."

 At the corner of my eyes I saw Veronica and Chloe entering again. Okay, where's Poppy? It was probably not helping at all that Carter just dove passed us towards the jello pool. Oh damn it.

 "Hey Zoey. I just need a little bathroom break." I stood up carrying the towel with me. "I'll be back." I winked at her before power walking inside the house. 

 I almost gave up on finding where Poppy might be when I stumbled on the garage. She was standing - her back facing me and mumbling to herself. "I hate that Farmsville." She groaned.

 I suppressed my smile before speaking, "Don't you think hate is a strong word to use?" 

 She whipped her head around so fast and threw a glare at me once she saw me. "What are you doing here Farmsville?" She said through gritted teeth.

 "I can be anywhere I want you know. You don't own this." I gesture on the garage where we are.

 "Didn't you pissed me enough today? Do you really want a death sentence so bad?" She glared at me.

 I laughed and raised my hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I'll stop teasing. I just stumbled here, I swear." 

 She raised an eyebrow, "Then get lost. I don't want to talk nor see your face." 

 I crossed my arms, "What are you even doing here alone though?"

 "I'm waiting for my driver. I'm going home since I feel so grossed out thanks to you. Now will you leave me alone." 

 Instead of following what she said, I stepped closer towards her. 

 "Are you deaf? I said get lost." 

 I lifted my hand holding out the towel I had in me and ignored her as I wiped out some jello remains on her hair. She flinched the first time the towel touched her hair. 

 "Relax. I swear I was just cleaning a jello out of your hair." I mumbled. 

 She remained silent which was surprising, so I look at her and that was when I realized I was standing too close to her. My hand stopped wiping her hair in mid-air and my eyes grew wide at the realization. Poppy was looking at me intently. Her eyes wasn't glaring at me, but it was searching for something in me. I can feel the heat creeping on my cheeks because of the way she looked at me.

 "W-What?" I stuttered stupidly.

 "Why are you doing this Newbie?" She whispered like her question itself was not meant to be heard by anyone, but I heard it - I heard her. The tone of her voice was softer and clearer than her usual tone.

 I gulped, "I'm doing nothing. What do you mean?"

 "You..." She was still looking at me before sighing and averting her eyes from me. "Whatever. Forget I asked anything." 

 She took a step back and turned her back towards me. "Just answer this one thing." 

 "Yeah?" I spoke my voice quivered a little as I fidgeted with the towel in my hands.

 "Did you mean what you said earlier? That tip. You only need me to be Poppy and you will be my friend?"

 I grinned as warmth blossomed in my chest, "Yeah." 

 At that moment Poppy's car arrived.  A man opened the door for her. Before stepping inside Poppy halted like she wanted to say something. She shook her head a little before finally entering the car. What were you gonna say?  I tried to bury that curiosity as I watch her car leave. I finally let out the breath I wasn't aware I was holding back. 

 "Today had been weird." I mumbled as I started walking back inside.

[opheliacassiopea]

CHAPTER 6.

TW: Mature language, mentions of alcohol consumption.

Flopping down on your sofa the next morning, you find yourself grinning at the thought of last night as you look through the many pictures that had been taken to document the events of the evening. You insisted on using your Polaroid camera to capture most of the evening, the walls of your apartment were littered with small snapshots of your life; the team, your friends outside of work, nature, anything that made you feel at peace. Your apartment, much like your appearance was how you expressed yourself and it was your sanctuary. 

Looking through the photos, Hotch plays on your mind. He looked good last night, so much so that you had to fight with yourself to stop stealing glances at him. You knew it was wrong to think about him like that, but it was nearly impossible when the man looked that good. Especially his hands, the prominent veins and the polished silver Rolex that sat on his wrist making him look even more attractive. Pulling out a photo of the both of you laughing at Spence’s attempts to beat Derek at a game of snooker, you think back to the conversation at the table.

“You did good, you did good, Pais”. ‘Pais’. Not Selwyn, not Paisley, Pais. As you repeated it, it sounded strange at first, or at least it did until you imagined Hotch being the one saying it and then it felt right. Did he realise the significance of giving you a nickname? The very word is defined as ‘a substitute for the proper name of a familiar person and often used to express affection, it is a form of endearment and amusement’. Surely he must have done, he wasn’t the type of person to do that sort of thing, something that..intimate. Plus, he knew you weren’t one for your name being shortened by just anybody. Was he trying to say something, to tell you something? Of course he isn’t you tell yourself, he’s your superior for God’s sake. Pushing thoughts of your boss to one side, you carried on about your weekend. Despite your plans not being thrilling, you were looking forward to them nonetheless. You had dedicated the time to catch up on much needed sleep and general self care and you were incredibly glad of the opportunity. Always valuing time to yourself, you couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed that the weekend vanished at a frightening pace. 

Flipping through the information brochure, you don't bother looking up at JJ who speaks to you “Spence tells me you’ve picked lecturing for the last module of your doctorate?”. The team, well you JJ, Prentiss, Morgan and Reid were currently sitting at the round table on your lunch hour, which was a rare occurrence with your schedules, you were nearly always working a case, or too swamped with paperwork. Garcia was hidden away in her lair doing who knows what, Rossi out for some fancy lunch and Hotch locked away in his office.

“Yeah, figured it couldn’t be too difficult and the genius himself has offered to help me prepare in the library so it seems like a win win if you ask me” you reply to her as you finally stop reading and look up at the faces around the table “what? It’s not like he’s writing my thesis, I’m just being resourceful and making the most of what's available, y’know?” you defend yourself, shrugging your shoulders.

“Oh so you’ll accept Reid's help, but not mine? You wound me pretty girl” Morgan teases, throwing an empty bottle at you, which you catch effortlessly and throw it into the bin, but not before you roll your eyes at him, sending him a cheeky smile as you do. 

Disconnecting herself from JJ’s embrace, Emily stands and crosses to you, picking up the brochure you were reading and scans over the information, before discarding it and spinning the chair you were sitting in toward her, clearly she could sense your apprehension. “You’ll do great Paisley, you’ll hit every inch of this criteria, I doubt you even need Reid’s help and besides, it’s not like you need another qualification to prove yourself, you’ve earned your place here” she tells you and you find that you have to force yourself to hold her gaze so you give nothing away.

One of the reasons you had multiple degrees was because on some level, you did feel the need to prove yourself, to prove you were doing something with your intellect and to prove that you did have a place on this team. Never did you want to be looked at as the baby FBI agent, who simply followed the others on the team like a shadow. On the other hand however, you genuinely loved learning and felt it was only natural to continue your studies to the highest level 

and you were proud of yourself for doing so, you’d come a long way since your childhood, but you didn’t want to dwell on that for long.  A few weeks pass and you soon find yourself sat in one of your favourite places; the older, dustier and lesser well known section of the bureau library, scanning over various notepads and books whilst feverishly typing at your laptop planning your first lecture. Looking across the table at Spencer, who kept true to his word and accompanied you to the library for assistance, you voice your initial plan for your first lecture in a few weeks. 

“I’m thinking of starting with nineteenth-century literature with the themes of crime and detection as a general focus and then work my way into psycho-linguistics with instances in literature, before moving on to case specific examples”. Whilst you held a close bond with Derek, you were good friends with Spencer too. The two of you would often hold mini academic debates between yourselves on the way home from a case, or on the phone in the early hours of the morning. From an outsider’s perspective it may look like something more, but that wasn’t the case, you genuinely just had a lot in common and it was nice to be able to watch Harry Potter over and over with somebody who gave no complaints. 

“What texts are you thinking of using? I personally think that Arthur Conan Doyle’s, Sherlock Holmes stories would be a fine choice. It’s more of an obvious one as the element of crime is incredibly apparent and the style of writing is fascinating on it’s own, so it would break the students in nicely I think.” Spencer reveals and you nod in agreement, returning to your typing.

The weekly sessions in the library seem nothing more than distant memories as you find yourself standing at the front of the lecture hall listening to Professor Moore’s introductions. You begin to wish you’d chosen a different final module. Why were you so nervous? You chased serial killers down on a day to day basis, surely you could give a lecture to a bunch of hopeful students for an hour?

“Much to your enjoyment, I will not be lecturing you for these next three months” Professor Moore informs her students in a lighthearted tone. You knew firsthand she was a good teacher and hoped her students didn’t expect too much from you. “This fine young woman will be taking over as part of the last module for her doctorate in criminology and psychology, so please be kind to her and don’t even think about any kind of tomfoolery in my absence, I will be dropping in and keeping in direct contact with Paisley so don’t think it will go unnoticed.” she looks at you and winks as she tells them “plus, she’s one hell of an FBI agent so she won’t tolerate it anyway”.

“Right well, thanks for that Professor. Uh, I’m Paisley and as you know I’ll be taking over for these next three months, hopefully you’ll find it as quick and painless as possible” you tell them, hoping it will break some of the tension and it does, you find the students take to you well as you dive in to the job you’re there to do. “We’re going to start with looking at nineteenth-century literature through the themes of crime and detection. I know this isn’t the big stuff right away and I apologise for that, but I find it’s better to develop a general understanding of the topic first, before delving deeper.” you tell them as you begin to pace the lecture hall out of nervousness.

“This is the century which saw the creation of the Metropolitan Police Force in London, the birth of private and police detectives, and the rise of investigations into the psychology and social causes of crime. The genres of detective fiction and the dramatic monologue which both emerged during this period will be largely focused on, but we’ll also take a look into less frequently studied genres like journalism to give you a full flavour of the period’s insatiable taste for crime”. Switching to the next powerpoint slide, you take a breath and steady yourself, maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. 

“Fictional texts are studied in the context of contemporary debates about crime, policing, criminal responsibility and madness, including legal texts and those related to the emerging science of psychology. We will be studying the texts through genre theory and cultural and historical perspectives”. As you look out to the back of the lecture hall, you’re able to make out the familiar figure of Dr Spencer Reid. He’d taken one look at you that morning in the bullpen and knew how nervous you were; you’d paced back and forth to the break room countless times, drinking far more tea than usual and barely uttering a word to anybody as you fiddled with the two necklaces that always hung round your neck.

You bite back a smile and continue speaking to the students “indicative primary texts for the semester will consist of a selection of popular crime ballads and the dramatic monologues about murder and madness by Robert and Elizabeth Barrett Browning, along with a selection of Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories. It’s absolutely essential that you all keep up with the reading. And with that, I’ll leave it there for now. Don’t hesitate to contact me with any questions and I’ll see you all next time”. 

Watching the students disperse from the room, you breath out a long sigh of relief and throw yourself into a nearby chair and by the time you get back to the bullpen, Spencer is practically screaming at the top of his voice as he tells anybody that would listen about how well you’d done in the lecture, speaking in just the right tone to be authoritative, but relatable and approachable. In short, he was incredibly proud of you and pride radiated off every inch of him. 

Two months had now passed and much to your surprise, it had now become part of your daily routine that Hotch would sit on the chair beside your desk during your twenty minute break at eleven o’clock each morning. At the start of your break you’d always find a cup of tea, perfectly made on your desk and each day you’d find yourself smiling as you knew who it was from. If Hotch was in a particularly good mood, he’d surprise you with a vanilla milkshake and raspberry muffin like he had done that very first time. If the team hadn’t picked up on it at first, they definitely had now, but they chose not to say anything. 

Some days you’d talk in depth about all manner of things, whereas other days you would find yourselves both working away in a comforting silence. Today was one of his chattier days and he greeted you with a smile as he placed a mug of tea down for you, and a mug of coffee for himself. “You’ve never told me the story behind all these little cartoon frogs pinned to your noticeboard” he begins, tracing his fingers over them as he looks to you for an explanation.

“You never asked, I’m surprised you didn’t use those profiling skills of yours to figure it out” you reply in a joking manner as you set your mug down. “To answer your question though, Spence asked me what my favourite animal was when I first started and when I told him it was a frog, he started to draw me one for each month of the year to help me settle in. I’ve got one of them tattooed on my ankle, I’m surprised you’ve not noticed it” you finish telling him.

“Can I see it? The tattoo?” he asks and you notice the nervousness in his voice and it makes you smile, seeing him almost shy is so unnatural you’re not quite sure how to act. You comply, kicking off your doc martens and pulling your left trouser leg up to reveal the image of a frog wearing a hat, sat on the edge of a teacup. It’s not the most conventional tattoo in the world, but you love it nonetheless. “It’s very you, I’ll give you that” he tells you as he helps you back into your shoe. 

You share a small laugh and you begin to pick up a file, ready to get back to work as the break comes to an end and the team filter back into the room and head to their desks. It’s Prentiss who asks you first “how’re feeling about your final lecture next week, Miss almost Dr Selwyn?” as she maneuvers a huge stack of case files from one side of her desk to the other. 

“Pretty good I think, just want to find out who the assessor is and get it over and done with to be honest” you tell her as you begin looking for a case consult you’d lost in a stack of folders.

“Doesn’t Hotch normally assess some of the final modules? He used to guest lecture with Rossi and Gideon quite a lot” JJ asks as she collects a pile of completed files from the table. 

“Actually no, he stopped guest lecturing once Gideon..uh...left” Reid fills you in “he thought it took up too much of his time and it was more productive to focus on leading the unit”.

“Huh, well at least you know it won’t be Hotch” Emily tells you and you smile in response as you dial the internal number for a copy of the police report for the consult you were working on. The rest of the day passes easily as you work through your files, thankfully not being interrupted by a new case and the rest of the week sailed by smoothly.

This was it, the final week of your doctorate. You’d been allocated reduced duties to allow time for the final hand in of your thesis, along with the multitude of exams you had to complete and you now you just had your final assessed lecture to complete. Arriving slightly earlier than anticipated due to your nerves, you decide to busy yourself replying to emails at your desk in the relatively empty bullpen, mulling over the happenings over the past week in the process.

Hotch had been keeping his distance and you didn't have it in you to figure out why, you’d just presumed it was just work and left it at that. Realistically you had far too much to worry about; the past week had left you feeling the most stressed you’d felt in years. 

Shifting your gaze to Hotch’s office, you’re able to see him talking on the phone, eyebrows furrowed together and jaw clenched. Clearly he’s not in a good mood and you’re thankful you’ll be out of the office all day. Checking through your notes one last time before you make your way to the lecture hall to set up, Hotch’s voice alerts you to his presence, you’d been so caught up in going over your notes that you didn't notice him leave his office. “Don’t you have a lecture to teach, Selwyn?”.

Before you can even look at him, he’s turned his back and retreated to his office. Pushing through the glass doors, you furrow your brows in confusion; what was his problem? It was only on your arrival to the lecture hall that your nerves began to kick in, this was it, once you’d finished teaching this class, your doctorate would be complete. Beginning to set up the powerpoint slides and distributing the resources for the lecture you find yourself slipping into a state of calmness as you worked, you could do this and you could do it well. Treat it like a case briefing you told yourself. Ten minutes later students begin to file into their seats and you’re pleased to greet Professor Moore who’s acting as the assessment supervisor. Toward the end of the lecture, you noticed an extra body had slipped into one of the seats on the back row and you knew who it was instantly. Aaron Hotchner. You’ve got to be fucking joking. He’d spent the better part of a week avoiding you and when he did speak to you, it was mostly dismissive and now he had the gall to show up to your final assignment. Swallowing the urge to throw one of the bulky textbooks at him for his sheer nerve, you continue explaining your current point to the students. 

“We’ve already been over the idea that psycholinguistics is the study of how the psyche responds to words and languages and this is how it’s distinguished from sociolinguistics. One focuses on the social dimension of language, and it’s stylistic patterns, whereas the other focuses on the expressive functions of language”. 

You begin to bring the lecture to a close, but not before thanking the students for their patience and hard work throughout the semester and you’re quick to express your gratitude to the professor for all her help and support. And just like that it was over, you were done. Hastily, you start to pack away the resources from the lecture in order to avoid a conversation with Hotch, his dismissive attitude had annoyed you all week and you weren’t thrilled at the sight of him in your lecture after the way he’d spoken to you this morning. 

“Can I help you with something?” you ask him in a cold tone, your eyes focused on shoving your laptop in your bag as you wait for his response, but you don’t receive one. Scanning the room one last time for any of your belongings, you promptly turn on your heel and exit the room, ignoring his calls as you melt away into the sea of scurrying students.

Things between the two of you eventually returned to normal, you weren’t even sure what ‘it’ was at this point and you didn’t care to ask, you weren’t even sure that it was normal. Hotch didn’t do these kinds of things or so you thought, but you knew better than to question it. Recently the team had been pushed in all directions, working case after case with little to no breaks, so it came as no surprise to you that the month of your graduation arrived in no time at all, acting as the perfect distraction for you all.

Pulling the garment onto your body, you admired the satin fabric of the deep purple dress you’d chosen to wear that day, it’s strappy sleeves allowing the many tattoos that graced the upper

half of your left arm to be shown off, along with the low neckline displaying the delicate tattoos on your collarbones. Before slipping on your graduation cap and gown, you add the finishing touches to your makeup, deciding to go for more of a dramatic look, if there was a day to go all out, it was definitely today. Giving yourself the once over, you feel a bubble of nerves form in the pit of your stomach, today was the day you were graduating and whilst you were excited, you felt apprehensive. Now that you were about to graduate, the pressure to live up to your new title was immeasurable and you were keen not to disappoint.

“Miss Paisley Anora Selwyn”.

You stand as your name is called, focusing on not falling over in your heels as you walk across the stage to receive your doctorate. There were no words to sum up how you felt, the moment was indescribable and as you walked back to your seat, you could hear a chorus of cheers and shouts from the team who insisted on buying tickets to watch the ceremony and later celebrate at one of the slightly fancier bars in the area. Luckily you’d managed to talk Penelope down from doing anything over the top and she very reluctantly agreed, making you settle instead for a compromise that allowed her to buy you a extravagant gift instead. 

“Tonight we’re here to celebrate Dr Paisley Anora Selwyn, many many congratulations” Dave begins the toast and you inwardly cringe at the use of your middle name.

Midway through the pleasantries, you feel Hotch’s hand resting on your lower back and you resist the urge to turn and smile up at him, instead opting for shuffling closer, a slight blush creeping onto your cheeks as you do so.

“Dr Paisley Anora Selwyn” the team echo as they raise their glasses to you, all grinning from ear to ear.

As the night progresses, you lean back against the bar, taking stock of the day. It was hard to believe that only three months ago that you were sat up till the early hours of the morning studying, the end seeming to be miles away, and now you’d finally done it. That wasn’t the only thing on your mind though, much like usual, Hotch occupied your thoughts. All throughout the night there had been subtle touches, stolen glances, and silent conversations between the two of you, and you loved it. Appearing next to you at the bar, Hotch’s arm slips round your waist, pulling you closer into his side as he congratulates you.

“I’m proud of you, well done, Pais”. 

[jeranasblog]

Let me make it up to you

Summary: Peter shouldn’t have gone out so close to his heat. Thankfully, his Daddy came to take care of him. 

Rating: E

Notes:  This story is my second Starkercest Bingo 2020 contribution.  Kink for the second story: Just the Tip (Bingo board at the end of the post). Read the first OS here. They add up to one story but can be read separately, too. 

Warnings: Adoptive Father/Adoptive Son, don’t like it, don’t read it

Read it on Ao3

Peter knew he shouldn’t have left the house so close to his heat. He had already been out of his mind yesterday, his body buzzing with arousal until he had ended in his Daddy’s bed with his fingers thrusting in and out of his wet hole. The beginning of his heat wasn’t quite there, but it was only a matter of hours until he couldn’t control himself anymore and his biology would take over.

 Peter knew it, knew what could happen to unguarded Omegas because once their cycle hits, arousal would feel like despair and at the peak of his heat, he would climb every Alpha like a god damn tree. Parents tell their Omega children not to leave the house close to their heat. They tell horror stories of teens being bred by strangers, of Omegas being forced to take and like everything an Alpha wants them to. But Peter left the house anyway because he was stupid, because he would do anything to be the perfect Omega for his Dad.

 Everything started with a phone call from the assistant of his engineering professor. She had called him, frantically explaining that she had lost the term paper he had submitted last week. It hadn’t been his fault, the deadline had already passed, but they couldn’t grade his work unless he submitted it a second time. Even though the assistant apologized a million times, he still had to get up and leave the house because no one else could go for him. His Daddy was at work, preparing his leave to help Peter with his heat and his friends had caught the flue, lying sick in their beds. So, there was no other option but to leave the house.

 Of course, Peter could have explained the state he was already in and the assistant would probably have delayed the second deadline, but he was afraid of losing a semester over a stupid term paper. He wanted his grades to be the best, he wanted his Daddy to be proud of his Omega son, so he made a stupid decision and took the subway to college.

 Oh gee, it had been a mistake. People had already been staring at him and turning their heads when he got on the subway, and he hadn’t even arrived at the college campus yet when the first drop of slick dripped down his thighs. Several different Alphas were watching him with hunger, his sweet and ripe scent screaming at them to take him. Peter knew that Alphas were already staring at him on a normal day, and his heat was making everything ten times worse.

 When he finally arrived on campus, Peter was nothing but relieved. Being trapped with plenty of people in New York’s subway, standing close to strangers, was too much for him. He didn’t want their eyes on him, the only person that should see him like that was his Daddy.

 Determined to get it over with quickly, he almost ran to the office. The feelings were getting stronger, dizziness clouded his mind and he felt how his hole arched for his Daddy’s knot, how he produced slick to ease the way. He clasped the second print of his term paper firmly in one hand, counting the seconds until he finally arrived. Slowly, his vision started to fade, and he felt that his instincts were taking over, forcing him to present so that any Alpha could take and breed him.

 Peter struggled but he forced himself to raise his hands and knock on the door of his professor’s office.

 “Oh god, Peter!” The assistant looked at him in horror and Peter was more than grateful that she was a Beta. Being too close to either Omega or Alpha would have been too much.

 Peter didn’t even notice anymore that she took the copy of his term paper out of his hand, fighting to keep the last grasp on his control. He felt slick running down his thighs and a burning arch inside of his hole, begging his Alpha to soothe the emptiness. But he wasn’t at home. He was in the middle of the college campus and didn’t know how to get close to his Alpha.

 “Come with me.” The assistant said, grabbing his forearm and dragging him towards a white door on the end of the hallway. Peter’s brain had already shut down, the only current thoughts on his mind were Daddy and more. He didn’t realize anymore that she was guiding him towards a heat room, quickly checking that no Alphas were crossing their way.

 “Do you have an Alpha?” She asked and sat him down on a couch in the middle of the room.

 Peter frantically shook his head. He wanted to scream yes, he wanted to let the world know that he had his Daddy, but not everyone was open-minded and although Tony wasn’t his biological father, he had still adopted him. He hadn’t talked about being open with his Daddy yet, so Peter kept quiet, afraid his Daddy didn’t want everyone to know.

 “Is there anyone else who could pick you up?” The assistant asked while Peter did his best to stop his hands from wandering into his pants in front of the Beta. Slick was soaking his panties, slowly drenching his trousers and he knew it was only a matter of time until it would hit the couch. “Do you have an emergency contact?”

 Peter stared at her for a second, his brain processing the question while his mind was fighting against the arousal. Emergency contact?

 “Yes.” He whimpered, suddenly certain how he could solve the problem. “Can you call my Daddy? He can take me home.” The assistant smiled pitifully and took his phone after Peter had dialed the number.

 Peter didn’t hear anymore what she was telling his Dad. He didn’t even realize that she left the room, overwhelmed by the need for his Alpha. Every second was making it harder and harder until he finally snapped, pulling his pants down in the middle of a heat room in college.

 The first finger that sank into his wet heat was pure relief and Peter sobbed, almost breaking under the white-hot pleasure. He didn’t even move, just providing his hole something to clench around, giving it the illusion that it would be stuffed soon. He desperately wanted to move but he didn’t have the heart to do so. He would wait for his Daddy, would save himself for his Alpha like a good little Omega.

  It could have been minutes or hours until the door finally opened again, his lust-crazed brain wasn’t able to grab the concept of time anymore. Everything was hurting, everything was spinning and the only thoughts that stopped him from going crazy were the memories of his Daddy’s fingers in his arching hole. How they had filled him, how his Alpha’s knot would fill him even more.

 Eventually, his Daddy was standing in front of him. “Oh, Peter.” He was talking to him like he was a little child, disappointment and pity in his voice, and the thought of letting his Daddy down was enough to make him cry. He didn’t want his Alpha to be mad at him.

 “I’m so sorry, D-Daddy.” Peter hiccupped, crocodile tears running down his cheeks. “I didn’t want to disappoint you, but the assistant called and wanted the term paper and you weren’t there and…” He couldn’t talk anymore, his body shaking with heartbreaking sobs.

 “Shhh, don’t cry, baby boy.” His Daddy pulled him to his feet, wrapping his arms around his hips to prevent him from tripping. “I’m not mad, baby. I’m just disappointed that you didn’t call me. I would have called the college for you. Nobody forces Peter Stark to leave the house so close to his heat. You’re mine. Mine to look at and mine to take care of. Do you understand that?”

 Peter nodded and slowly, his sobs died down. It was a relief to know that his Alpha wasn’t upset with him. However, the bad feeling remained, the despair of letting his Daddy down too much for him to bear, so he almost wasn’t noticing his arousal anymore.

 “Can I make it up to you?” Peter begged with teary eyes. “Please, I wanna make it up to you. Just give me a chance. Just let me make you feel good.”

 Tony sighed. “Pete, we don’t have time for this. You’re close to your heat. I have to bring you home.”

 Peter’s disappointment was almost palpable. The dried tears came back, threatening to spill and he must have looked so wrecked that his Daddy gave in. “Fine, I might let you suck my cock, but I want you to come against my leg first. An orgasm should be enough to delay the beginning of your heat for a few hours.”

 Peter beamed. He could make it up to his Daddy, he could be a good boy, help his Alpha feel good. He must look stupid with the broad grin on his face, but he couldn’t stop it, couldn’t hide the anticipation of finally tasting his Daddy. He had dreamed of this for years.

 Tony sat down on the couch, spreading his legs and opening the zipper of his suit pants. Peter had enough room to crawl between them, preparing himself to take his Daddy’s cock.

 It was a vision. Thick, long and red, standing proud for Peter to worship. His Daddy was so much bigger than him, his cock at least twice as thick and long as Peter’s and salvia started to pool in his mouth. The Alpha’s cock was everything Peter had ever dreamed of, the first evidence of his knot already visible at the base. But the best thing was the scent. Peter could find no words for it, overwhelmed by the desire to take it into his mouth, to choke on it until his Alpha would gift him his seed and soothe the arch in his belly.

 Out of control, he rushed forward, trying to take his Daddy’s cock in one go, but a firm hand stopped him before he could even reach it. A desperate whine slipped past his lips and Peter felt betrayed by his Daddy who denied him his cock.

 “Baby.” Tony growled as Peter made attempts to swallow the Alpha’s cock. “We made a deal, didn’t we? I said first your orgasm and then my cock.”

 Peter cried out, slick pouring out of him from the words alone, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to come right now, he wanted his Daddy to feel good. He wanted to choke on the beautiful cock, wanted to take it so deep, he wouldn’t be able to breathe. Nevertheless, he stopped fighting, a command of his Alpha too important to ignore. He sat still, his face ruined with tears, and waited for his Daddy’s orders.

 “I want you to strip but keep your pretty panties on.” Tony commanded, his voice rough from arousal. “You’re already dripping all over the place. Can’t leave your hole uncovered or you’ll flood the room.”

 Humiliation spread through his veins. It made him even hotter, even wetter and the first dribble of slick dripped to the floor. Peter’s eyes widen, ashamed of his obvious arousal, and according to the Alpha’s face, he wasn’t the only one who noticed the mess.

 “Good, sweetheart. Your smell is killing me. Your sweet slick is dripping all over the floor. Come closer, rub your little hole over my shoes and I might feed you my cock. Come on, hurry. We don’t have all day.”

 Peter scrambled to obey, moving his hips until his panty-covered hole was pressed against his Daddy’s designer shoe. It was so filthy, so obscene, a sign of how easy Peter was for his Daddy, he almost came.

 “Just like that.” His Daddy encouraged him when he moved his hips tentatively for the first time. “Rub yourself all over me like the bitch in heat you’re soon going to be.”

 Peter felt the pressure of the leather against his cheeks, felt how the shoe was sliding between them until they were tightly pressed against his hole. One touch was enough to make them slick and he rubbed his ass against them, savoring the contact against his empty hole. It wasn’t enough.

 He wanted more, needed more, something inside him. It didn’t matter anymore if it was his Daddy’s cock in his mouth or his fingers in his hole, just anything to soothe the burning fire that spread through his body. Pleasure was sparking inside of him every time he moved, and his cock hardened, trapped in his panties, and pressed against his Daddy’s leg.

 “That’s it, my good little boy.” The Alpha encouraged him, burying his hands in Peter’s hair. The tight grip made him arch and he let his hands slide behind his back, spreading his cheeks to intensify the contact against his empty hole. “Look at you, holding yourself open for me. Do you wish it were my cock? Do you wish I would knock you up? Keep your sweet little cunt full with my knot?”

 Yes, yes, please. Peter didn’t notice that he was screaming. He didn’t care that his Daddy called his hole a sweet little cunt, he didn’t care that the heat room was soundproof but not locked, he didn’t even care about his disappointment anymore. The only thing he could focus on was riding his Daddy’s shoe, rubbing against his leg until he would come.

 It didn’t take long. A couple of filthy words whispered in his ear by his Daddy, a tight grip in his hair, and the increasing pressure against his leaking cunt once his Daddy lifted his shoe was enough to send Peter flying. He sobbed as he came, the orgasm was bright, hot and overwhelming, but still not enough. It could never be enough as long as he knew that he hadn’t made it up to his Daddy yet.

 “You look so beautiful when you cry, baby.” Tony growled in his ear as Peter fell apart, his insides clenching around nothing and the urge to split himself open on his Daddy’s cock overwhelming. Satisfaction was outweighed by denial, prolonging his orgasm in sweet agony. His body twitched against his Daddy’s shoe, riding out the last waves until he slumped down against his Daddy’s leg. He felt even worse than before, even more desperate, but at least the fog in his mind cleared a little.

 Peter needed a couple of deep breaths to calm down, to cope with the betrayal that was buzzing in his body. He knew he didn’t deserve his Daddy’s cock after going out so close to his heat, but he couldn’t suppress the all-consuming desire to taste his Alpha’s come.

 Once he trusted his voice to work again, Peter raised his head, looking straight into his Daddy’s face. “Can I suck you now, Daddy?” He begged like a little slut, the cutest pout on his face.

 Tony pondered, making a show of denying Peter his cock. “I don’t know. Have you been good, boy? I’m not sure if you’ve earned it.”

 The words physically hurt Peter and he winced, an utterly betrayed expression on his face. “You promised you’d think about it.” Peter cried softly. “You promised I might get it. Please, Daddy. Just the tip, please.”

 “Just the tip?” Tony teased him and took his own erection in his hand, slowly starting to stroke it.

 “Yes.” Peter answered eagerly, his eyes fixed on his Daddy’s hard cock. “Just something, Alpha. Just the tip, please.”

 Tony sighed playfully, enjoying the power he held over Peter. The Omega stared at the thick flesh, loved how it twitched proudly under Tony’s own grip. He watched some drops of precome spilling from the tip, wanted nothing more than to taste them, to follow their path with his tongue. He wanted to be responsible for the Alpha’s pleasure, his mind spinning and his biology forcing him to lean forward, to take the thick cock into his mouth. But he resisted because his Daddy didn’t give him permission.

 “Fine.” Tony decided dismissively. “Come closer, baby. You can have the tip. But only the tip. I’ll take it away if you get too greedy. Do you understand me?”

 “Yes, Daddy.” Peter smiled happily, crawling closer to his Daddy’s crotch.  

  When his lips touched the tip for the first time, Peter moaned, relief he had never felt before flooding his body. It felt right to kneel in front of his Daddy, to take the warm flesh into his mouth. He savored the moment, slowly spreading his lips until he could take the first few inches of his Daddy into his mouth.

 The Alpha growled, a deep satisfied sound and pride bloomed in Peter. He did this, he made his Daddy feel good, his lips around the Alpha’s tip were responsible for his noises. The knowledge was like a rush, new slick began to pour out of his body. He was ready to take everything his Alpha wanted him to give.

 “You’re doing so good.” Tony praised, making Peter dizzy with happiness. “Look at you, how eager you are for me. How badly do you want it, baby boy? What would you do for Daddy’s cock?”

 “Everything.” Peter answered sincerely, his lips slightly touching the heated flesh. He didn’t want to pull back, craving to touch as much as he was allowed to.

 His Daddy’s cock tasted like heaven. Small driblets of salty precome were running down the shaft and Peter did his best to catch every single one with his tongue. He sucked, his tongue dancing around the tip as if he was licking a lollipop. Although he wasn’t even touching himself, he already felt a million times better than before, knowing his Alpha was feeling good and that he could make up for his mistake.

 Peter hold himself back, sucking up all the deep noises his Daddy was making while he fought the urge to take the cock deeper, to choke himself on his Daddy. He wanted to be stuffed full, to struggle, to feel this Alpha so deep that he would be hoarse tomorrow, but this wasn’t about him. His Alpha had ordered him to restraint himself and he would rather die than disobey.

 “God, Peter. Look at you. Sucking my cock as if you were born for it, as if it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. You’re a slut for me, aren’t you? Begging me with those pretty brown eyes to take me deeper.”

 Peter couldn’t answer, his mouth stuffed, so he nodded in agreement, humming an affirmative noise. Vibrations tingles alongside the Alpha’s cock and his Daddy let out a deep moan. He gripped Peter’s hair, a constant reminder of who was in charge.

 “Open your mouth wider, sweet boy.” Tony ordered, his grip tightening further. “I want to stroke myself and I want you to catch everything when I come. Can you do this for me? Can you be my sweet little slut?”

 Peter beamed, eager to be good for his Alpha. He shifted until he was comfortable on his knees, curving his back to look like the perfect little Omega and opened his mouth just like his Daddy told him to. He even put his hands behind his back to show how submissive he could be.

 The view seemed to please Tony because he rumbled deep in his chest. “Sometimes I wondered if I’ve trained you.” The Alpha said while he gripped his own cock and began to stroke himself. The tip rested against Peter’s opened mouth. “You’re doing everything I want you to, even when I humiliate you, and that makes me so hard, makes me want to wreck you even more. That can’t be healthy, can it?”

 “I want it too, Daddy.” Peter whispered against the tip of his cock. “I want you to treat me like your good little Omega. I love it, I love you.”

 “Oh, sweetheart.” The Alpha’s voice was gentle. “I love you, too. You’re my son, you’re my slut, you’re my everything.”

 “Please, come in my mouth.” Peter begged, his gaze leaving the dripping cock to look into his Daddy’s eyes. “That’s all I want.”

 The Alpha smiled at him and patted his hair. “All right, boy.” He gave in. “Keep your mouth open. Don’t move!”

 Happiness bubbled in his chest and Peter nodded enthusiastically. He wanted to swallow everything his Alpha was willing to give him. Tony rested the tip of his cock on Peter’s tongue, the heated flesh burning in the Omega’s mouth. Although he wanted to suck, to choke on it, he was content with a few inches. He would get his Daddy’s come. That was everything that counted in the moment.

 Tony started to fuck his hand, the rhythm hard and unyielding while the back of his hand smacked against Peter’s face with every thrust. Peter loved it, loved the taste on his tongue, and the obscene noise when his Daddy’s hand slapped his face. He felt owned, controlled, and let go, his mind becoming clouded once again. But it wasn’t from his heat, it was the possessiveness of his Daddy that made him go cockstupid. His thoughts drifted and he imagined what it would feel like if his Daddy’s hand would smack his bottom, leaving red marks on his tender cheeks.

 It wasn’t long before Tony’s strokes became erratic and Peter knew his Daddy was getting close. He kept his mouth open, spit running down his chin and he savored the moment of pleasuring his Daddy. Even if it meant just keeping his mouth open.

 “Oh, god. Baby. You’re so good for me.” The Alpha grunted as he finally came, his cock spurting his seed all over the Omega. He pulled back, half his load landing in Peter’s mouth while the other half scattered all over his face.

 Peter was in heaven. He swallowed, already addicted to the salty fluid and he sighed with contentment. He wanted this every day, a fresh load of come filling his belly. He let out a high-pitched whine because he could only swallow half of it, but his Daddy soothed him, spreading the rest onto his face and rubbing it over the scent glands on his neck. Peter preened. His Daddy, his Alpha, was scent-marking him, was showing the world that Peter was his.

 “You did a wonderful job.” The Alpha reassured him, his voice hoarse after the orgasm. “So good for me, the best little slut.”

 Peter blushed deep red and tried to hide his face against his Daddy’s leg. He wasn’t good with compliments but still treasured the words. Contentment was filling him as he sat there at his Daddy’s feet. He never wanted to move, but they were still in a heat room in college.

 They sat there for a while, his Daddy’s hands caressing his head, fingers tugging his curls lightly. The sensation was grounding and Peter relaxed, preparing himself to leave soon. They still had to walk to his Daddy’s car.

 “Let’s get you out of here.” His Alpha promised after a few minutes and pulled him into his arms after he put their clothes back on. Peter wrapped his legs around the Alpha’s hips and one of his Daddy’s strong arms settled under his ass, carrying him as if he weighed nothing. Peter suspected his slick had already soaked his pants, but his Daddy didn’t complain, keeping him against his chest so that Peter could hide his face in his Alpha’s neck.

 He couldn't see if they met other people on the way out, he only suspected that they had passed another Alpha, because once his dad growled possessively. But Peter was happy, snuggling against Tony’s chest like a kitten and breathing in his Daddy’s scent. He smelled perfect, like satisfied Alpha. He didn’t even care if someone was watching him, loved getting carried by his Daddy while he was drenched in the scent of his Alpha’s seed.

 Peter was getting tired, his eyes fluttered and fell shut while Tony was carrying him out of the building. He knew his heat would hit him with full force as soon as he woke up, but for now, he was content in his Daddy’s arms. He drifted away before they even reached the car.

[srsly-messed-up-fruitloop]

Tug of War (Ch 2)

prev - next

Word Count: 1,756

A month has passed since Danny and Wes had served their detentions (unfortunately Mr. Lancer’s favouritism didn’t extend to Casper’s basketball players). However, like always in the past, the chowder incident didn’t deter Wes from trying to expose him. And like before, Danny just ignored the lunatic’s attempts. At least he hasn’t tried taking any more of his stuff from their shared locker since.

Read on AO3 or under the cut

Slamming his locker shut, Danny made his way to find Tucker. It was Tucker’s suggestion to go on patrol right after school since he had something planned later in the evening. However, no matter how many times Danny asked, he wouldn’t say what that something was. Too bad Sam was on vacation now. For sure she would’ve been able to squeeze the truth out of him.

When Danny approached his friend, he was kneeling, with his entire upper body swallowed up his locker.

“Uh, Tuck?”

Without budging from his position, Tucker responded, “Yo Danny, just give me a sec. I just need to finish with this wiring.”

Danny just stood there, observing in the various tools surrounding his friend before his eyes finally settled on an empty box for a George Foreman grill.

“Tuck...you didn’t...”

“Aha!” Tucker exclaimed enthusiastically. He backed out of the locker and admired his work. “Now let’s test this baby out.”

Danny watched wordlessly as he plugged something in a makeshift AC outlet inside the locker. A light beaconed from the top shelf, and there he spotted the grill.

Meanwhile, Tucker jumped up in glee. “Yeah baby! Can’t wait for lunch tomorrow!”

“But…” Danny paused as he noticed the stack of textbooks on the floor by his feet. “What about your textbooks?

Tucker motioned to the empty space at the bottom of the locker. “Thank god Sam took home her shoes, I’m just gonna dump ‘em all there.”

“And Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“She’s going to be furious.”

“Let her, I’m doing her a favour. I’m pretty sure you can grill vegetables too,” Tucker said as he began cleaning up. 

Danny stooped down to help him. “How did you even get the time to do this?”

He shrugged. “Just did it all in my spare.”

“Wait, you have a spare?”

“Yeah, last period. You didn’t know?”

Danny struggled to recall if Tucker ever told him this. His mind has been a whirl since school started. “I guess I forgot. Hold up, why don’t you go straight home then? You don’t have to wait for us.”

“Nah dude it’s okay, I actually get a lot more done studying at the library here than the entire evening at home,” Tucker assured as he placed the last tool in his backpack. He stood up and fished out his PDA from his pocket, checking off ‘Install grill’ from his to-do list.

“I see what you mean,” Danny understood, remembering how much of a distraction his parents were at home. Now that Jazz had left for Stanford, it seems that his parents have doubled their efforts to spend time with him. He gets it, they missed Jazz a lot. And in less than a year he’ll be gone off to college too (hopefully). Still, they were pretty distracting, especially when they had a new invention or discovery to show off. Thankfully he had a spare next semester.

“So Tuck, before we start, are you gonna tell me your ‘special plans’ later?” he inquired for the last time, trying to inject as much ‘Sam’ into his voice.

“Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p’.

Danny pouted. Before he could say anything else, he gasped when an icy fog escaped his mouth.

“Guess we’re starting patrol at the school today,” Tucker stated nonchalantly as he activated the ghost radar on his PDA. 

Looking both ways down the hall and confirming no one else was around, Danny transformed. 

Meanwhile, peering around the corner of the hallway in his basketball uniform, Wes seethed as he witnessed Fenton’s transformation for the seventeenth time! And like always, he didn’t have his camera with him. Why did basketball tryouts have to be today?

“Dammit!” he exclaimed, angrily stomping back to the gym.

How many times does he have to watch Fenton expose himself before the school finally takes a hint? Why are they so damn oblivious? Three years have passed and he still has yet to open anyone’s eyes to the truth! And Fenton has been masquerading as the town’s hero the entire time!

He doesn’t have much time left. Once he leaves for college, he’ll lose his chance. Sure, he could continue posting on his blog, but the seven visitors he gets every month either think it’s a joke or never heard of Danny Phantom. And who knows where Fenton’s heading after high school. He’d probably be stuck relying on his old evidence. Which isn’t even that effective, considering all the convincing it’s done so far. 

Time is running out. He refuses to let all these years go to waste. He’s dedicated his whole being to this. He cannot fail, he needs them to believe him. Otherwise, what has been his purpose all this time?

He can’t—they have to eventually believe him, right? He cannot go down that path again; the world needs him to prove this. 

He’s the only person who can. 

But what else he could do? He’s come to realize that Mr. Lancer gifted him the perfect opportunity to get close without faking being friends. Yet, except for the thermos that one day, Fenton hasn’t stored anything suspicious in their locker. Fenton must be keeping his weapons in his stupid sidekicks’ locker. That doesn’t help him at all!

There must some advantage to this sharing lockers thing. Some way...the memory of Fenton’s furious green eyes flashed through his mind. 

That’s right! Fenton’s temper brings out the ghost in him. And Wes has the perfect opportunity to get under his skin. Once the ghost loses control in front of everyone…

Then he’ll finally fulfill his purpose.

~

A yawn escaped from Danny as he trudged into school the next day. On autopilot, he grabbed his supplies from his bag and went to phase it into his locker. Except, when he leaned closer and his arm was halfway through the door, he stopped and sniffed. Something reeked.

Scrunching up his nose, he cautiously opened the door and cringed as the stench hit him full force. His eyes darted around the locker until they settled on the source of the offensive smell.

Wes’ basketball uniform. It was innocently lying crumpled at the bottom of the locker, but the stink it was emanating was criminal. He suddenly felt the urge to hurl. 

Didn’t Wes ever hear of deodorant? He didn’t know whether to feel disgusted or concerned. 

He was tempted to toss it into the trash bin in the hallway, but that would mean touching the smelly jersey and shorts.

Unable to stand it any longer, he kicked his locker shut and quickly retreated to his homeroom, backpack still on him. 

~

“Yo, Danny, you okay?” Tucker asked worriedly, noticing the sick look on his face when he sat down beside him.

Danny shook his head as he placed his books on the desk. “No. I…” he began, pausing when he saw his locker partner enter the classroom. “I need to talk to Wes,” he finished before abruptly standing up and striding towards him.

“What do you want, Fenton?” Wes coldly demanded. 

“You left your gym clothes in the locker.”

“Yeah, so? I’ll need them again for practice tomorrow.”

“Wes, they stink.”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed before crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “It’s not that bad. You should feel lucky you’re not sharing with any of the other jocks.”

“You’re hardly a jock.”

“At least I’m something. Something real. You—you parade around this false loser facade, but I know who you really are Phantom,” he declared, poking him right in the chest. “And one day I’ll expose your true colours to the whole world.”

Danny really wasn’t in the mood this morning. Batting away Wes’ accusing finger, he cut straight to the chase, “Look, please just don’t keep your bas—”

“No.”

The two boys met each other’s eyes in a glaring contest. Neither side wanted to back down. After a moment, Danny continued, “Why not?”

“I’m just as entitled to keep whatever I want in there as you are. You don’t hear me complaining about your ghost hunting equipment.”

He was truly starting to lose his patience now. “No. Instead, you take my lunch and get us detention for spraying it on everyone.”

“Any other day I could’ve exp—”

BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING

The two boys jolted as the bell rang.

“We’re not finished here,” Danny grunted before heading back to his seat. Why didn’t he just get rid of that horrible stench right then and there? One ectoblast would’ve surely turned those clothes to ashes.

~

“Sausage?” Tucker offered when Danny sat at their lunch table.

Danny eyed the smoke swirling from the meat. “Did you just make those?”

“Yup, here, try one,” he said while picking up one with a pair of tongs.

Before accepting it, Danny muttered, “Sam is going to be so mad.”

“I know. Anyways, what went down between you and Wes this morning?”

Danny swallowed a mouthful of sausage before he started, “He left his clothes from basketball practice in our locker.”

“And...?”

“Tuck, they stink.”

“My dude...” He pulled out a can of Foley and pushed it across the table. “You’re lucky that we’re friends. I’ll let you borrow it, free of charge.”

Danny scrunched up his nose from an overly musky smell coming from the so-called cologne. “Tuck, this will just make it worse.”

Smirking, he smoothly replied, “Precisely. How do you figure I got Sam to take her shoes home?”

“Oh,” he realized, matching Tucker’s smirk with his own.

~

“FENTON, WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY CLOTHES?” Wes shrieked when he stomped over to his desk the next morning.

Feigning innocence, Danny raised an eyebrow and responded, “What are you talking about?”

“My uniform, you—YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN’T TOUCH MY STUFF!”

“And I didn’t.”

“Liar.”

Technically, he wasn’t lying. He just sprayed a little Foley at a certain spot in their locker. Okay, maybe not a little.

“I didn’t touch anything. It’s not my fault you’re just realizing how much your clothes stink,” he shrugged indifferently.

“I’ll...I’ll get you back for this Fenton!” Wes promised before stomping back to his seat.

Danny turned to an amused-looking Tucker and they both began to snigger.

[teddynewell]

𝚝𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚢'𝚜  𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐  𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢  𝚊𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗  ; 𝚊   𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊   .

𝐓𝐖: murder mentions. 

𝐎𝐎𝐂.

Evie wants Macbeth, but Teddy wants Macduff.  I did mention Macbeth on my app so it was my to go option when the task was announced. But then I realized that realistically, Teddy wouldn’t go for Macbeth. For a number of reasons you’ll find in the self para. But I did made him get a lil “Macbethian” through his audition, it just sort of happened, hehe. Will Heidi be able to notice? 👀  As I said on my app, I still think if he were to get Macbeth it’d be hella ironic and honestly a lot of fun to play. The development he’d go through by preparing for the role, especially regarding his mental stability would just be delicious to play out. But Macduff?? The raw emotions? The pain from losing his family? The anger? The duel with Macbeth at the end? HOT. I feel like it also speaks to Teddy on a level he doesn’t understand *yet*.

Honestly, I feel like a lot of how Teddy will develop as a character moving forward would be defined by who his role is in the spring play, whether it’d be my choice (Macbeth) or his (Macduff). And either way, I’d be really excited to find out and play him out!

𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅-𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀.

“Be patient till the last. Romans, countrymen, and lovers!”

Audition mornings used to be exciting, sometimes excruciating, sometimes bright and promising. But for the first time since he arrived at Alderidge, Teddy doesn’t feel absolutely nothing as he makes his way towards the Fine Arts Building and into the theatre. Orson’s gone and Teddy should he be happy to still have a chance at the lead, shouldn’t he? Maybe. If it weren’t for the fact.. Well. We all know the fact already.

Truth of the matter is Teddy has had a hard time trying to choose a character to audition for and a monologue to prepare. Maybe he could’ve tried to go for one of the leads, it’s his last play at Alderidge so why not go out with a bang? In the public’s eye, Teddy is still one of Orson’s favorites. It would be the logical thing to do. But Teddy’s life is already a Macbethian tale of nightmares and visions. Why would he want to go through the exact same thing on stage? 

Besides, and most importantly, playing one of the leads might bring him unwanted attention from the weird Orson cult, or worse, the police. Teddy doesn’t need people looking at him. And Macduff, the rightful warrior who acted for the good of Scotland, that’s a big enough role that will look good on his resumé. And in the meantime, Teddy can go through the rest of the semester unnoticed. It’s an infallible plan.

Oh Teddy darling… you innocent, idiotic, little fool.

Teddy is calm when he walks into the stage for his audition. It’s the sort of calmness that fills someone when they have simply stopped caring about something, it’s indifference. Although to a stranger's eyes, it might read as an almost arrogant confidence.

“Good morning, my name is Teddy Newell-Smith, I’m auditioning for the role of Macduff and today I’ll be reading from Brutus’ monologue in Julius Caesar, Act III, Scene 2.”

Teddy is reading Brutus but he has his Romeo smile on when he greets Heidi and the rest of her committee. He feels at home under the warm lights of the stage, standing firmly before his audience. Heidi gives him his cue to start and Teddy stands firmly in place, legs slightly parted, back straight, shoulders broad. Suddenly, he is no longer himself. He is a young roman, hopeful for the future of his country. “Hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear…” His voice is firm, loud, as if he was speaking in front of thousands and not an almost empty theatre.

“Believe me for mine honour, and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe: censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses, that you may the better judge.” 

Teddy choosing to read Brutus was not a random decision. There’s a similarity between him and Macduff; brave warriors fighting for the good of their people, they went above and beyond for what they believed was right. But most importantly, there’s something about the young Roman who betrayed his mentor for the good of their nation that makes Teddy feel understood. You see, for the past few months, Teddy has been trying to make sense of his actions, to make sense of what happened that night and what it meant for him and for his classmates. Thinking of Orson as the tyrant Julius Caesar might just be exactly what he needs to clear himself out of any guilt, it might be just exactly what he needs to speak his lines with raw emotion, to deliver the speech almost perfectly.

“If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer,” he carries on, looking straight at his audience. For a moment, it almost feels like Orson’s eyes are on him, as if he was out there watching. It fills Teddy with bravery as he takes a step forward, looking down to the floor for a second before he looks back up. There’s a hint of vulnerability in his eyes and in his words when he speaks again: “Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.”

Teddy loved Orson, that’s for sure. And he can feel it in every single of his words. He admired him, he looked up to him. From the moment they met, and till the very last moment, Teddy wanted nothing more than to be worthy in Orson’s eyes, he craved his admiration, his respect. And for the past four years, Teddy did everything in order to get it. But instead, the very last words that Orson ever spoke to him were “you disgust me.” And now Teddy has to live with the memory of blood and a skull cracking against a rock for the rest of his life. It will follow him everywhere. It makes his own blood boil with anger, but this time, there’s no one he can fight. There’s nothing left to do but to let the anger consume him from inside, like the most fatal poison.

“Had you rather Caesar were living and die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all free men?”

For a moment, Teddy truly believes he has done Alderidge a favor. “Look at me, I saved us. I have saved future generations from becoming little chess pieces in his foul game of tyranny and egocentrism,” Teddy thinks as his voice raises with Brutus’ question to the Romans, his closed fist hitting his chest, once twice. He feels strong, indestructible, just like Brutus did back then, standing on the righteousness of his actions. 

But deep down, Brutus and Teddy know… it was treason, the way they murdered the one person they called a friend for one and a mentor for the other.

Then a pause. And Teddy’s voice is soft again, vulnerable. “As Caesar loved me, I weep for him;” he brings his eyes to the floor, his hands running through his hair in anguish. Because deep down, Teddy still hopes Orson felt at least a small flicker of admiration or respect for him, he saw something good in Teddy, didn’t he? The same way Julius Caesar did for Brutus. “As he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him”, the smallest hint of a smile is on his lips as he looks up at his audience again. Because just as Julius Caesar had a few good things going on about him, so did Orson. He remains still the smartest man Teddy has ever crossed paths with. He taught him the art of making his heart beat to the sound of Shakespeare’s words. “But, as he was ambitious, I slew him.” Teddy’s whole demeanour has shifted with his last words, there’s a threatening look in his eyes and just the smallest hint of a smile, it’s almost sinister, almost on the brink of madness. Because in the end, nothing was enough. Julius Caesar wanted the world. And so did Orson. Teddy could’ve bled dry on stage and it still would be mediocre at best.

A second too long has passed, Teddy looks down, brings his hands together in front of him. He takes one deep breath to regain his composure. Then he carries on, standing tall and confident once again, the righteous warrior speaks to his people with heroism. Brutus is valiant and fair, after all, he is the most honorable roman of them all. “I have done no more to Caesar than you shall do to Brutus,” he finally tells his people. An ominous promise lies in between his words. Another tragic omen for the young actor and the valiant warrior alike.

At last, he takes a step back, looking down to the floor to break character. When he finally looks up, Teddy is smiling one last of his Romeo smiles to Heidi and his audience. “Thank you.” He leaves the stage with the sensation of Orson’s ghost following closely behind, laughing maniacally as if Teddy’s destiny had been long decided anyways. Nothing new about that.

“With this I depart,—that, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death.”

[cryptidqueerr]

hey what’s up I’m writing fanfiction now I guess

y’all said “I used to be team jacob in 2006 but now I’m a giant lesbian” and I said “what about.....lesbian jacob black? and what about no imprinting? and also pepper in some more involved parents and more queer folks?” and you said “sure sounds good”

(x-posted to ao3 which is also where more chapters will be posted)

This story begins with an ending.

For six months, I followed the deepest drive of my human heart and loved Edward Cullen. For six months, he bent his nature to love me in return. But that which bends will inevitably break, and the stories warning young girls to stay away from the glittering eyes of vampires exist for a reason.

He abandoned me in the woods. He had thrown open the gates of heaven and then declared me too sinful to stand in its light. He told me that he loved me for my humanity and then told me that in my humanity, I was a liability.  He left me to crash onto the ground alone. I couldn't think without him. I couldn't breathe without him. He had so fully inhabited my soul that my body did not remember how it moved before him. For hours, I curled up, the dark outside pressing against my skin to meet the darkness inside. Sam Uley carried me out of the woods, my father carried me into the house, and I carried me through the unending agony that came after.

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

Weeks pass. My thin body, growing thinner by the day, feels as though it will crack under the weight of my sorrow. I don't sleep at all - then I do nothing but sleep. I barely eat. Offering smiles to soothe my father's worry feels like carving gashes into my face. I fumble for the right answers to give to the therapist my parents insist I see. She prescribes me a handful of pills that I flush down the drain.

I send texts that return undeliverable. I don't dare try his number - just the thought of the confirmation that his number is dead, that my last connection to him could be severed, drives me into an hours-long breakdown. Instead I text Alice: losing her friendship is an added pain, but a bearable one. Dozens a day, then less. Then more again. Then just one, every night.

I'm waiting. I'll always be waiting. I love him.

I think this must be what praying feels like.

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

I am ruins

covered in vines

my temple long lost to age.

the darkness here is deep

shadowed corners whispering ancient

sadness

but still

but still

the air here is holy.

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

"Julie Black's coming by later."

I lift my head from my bowl of cereal. Charlie stands at the sink, in front of the coffee pot from 1997. Frost covers the kitchen window, the late November chill pressing its face against the glass. "What?" I say, seconds before my brain processes the words.

"Julie Black. She's swinging by to pick up some of her dad's stuff that he left here a while ago," Charlie says, his hands methodically adding nine sugars to his coffee. He doesn't look up.

He doesn't look directly at me very often anymore. I catch him watching me when he thinks I don't notice, his worried eyes following me from the couch to the fridge to the kitchen table and back again. He likes that I stay downstairs, I think. I don't bother to tell him that my bedroom is filled with Edward, that sleeping on my bed is like sleeping on his grave. My promise to stop saying things like that was my ticket out of weekly therapy appointments and back into my sophomore year of classes at Peninsula College, the community college in Forks. When I'd moved in with Charlie last August, I'd hoped to be moved to Seattle for a four-year college by the fall. Now, I barely manage to pass the few classes I had remembered to sign up for.

I search the blankness in my head for a response. I come up with nothing, save a vague sense of a tall, smiling girl. What does this have to do with me?

"I thought..." Charlie hesitates, then tries again. "I thought maybe you girls could catch up. Billy says she gets pretty lonely down there on the rez, with her sisters gone. She'd wanted to start taking classes over at Peninsula this semester, but it didn't work out. I bet she'd appreciate a friend."

Ah. I nod, returning my attention to the mush of Frosted Flakes. "Okay."

I sense Charlie's stillness: he hadn't expected me to agree. He doesn't answer, just mutters a wordless affirmation. But he finally shuffles into the living room, carrying his coffee and a little less tension.

I bump a cluster of soggy cornflakes, watching as it sets on a spinning path through the off-white milk. I push through the gray fog that fills my skull to idly thumb through my memories, carefully avoiding the ones I don't want to see, like navigating a dark room without barking your shins on furniture. The memory from before (before what? before Ed...no, before, before just before) comes to mind: Julie Black, Billy Black's youngest daughter, had come with him to drop off the truck Charlie had gotten from his old friend for me, right after I'd moved to Forks. I hadn't even started classes when I met her. She had shown me the trick to the clutch. I remember her height - towering over my 5' 4", probably even with Charlie's 5' 10" - and her broad shoulders, built more for soccer than basketball. I remember a bright smile, crinkling her dark eyes, so much like Emmett-

My brain throws the emergency brake before the thought reaches my heart. My head clears out completely: I think of nothing but Frosted Flakes.

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

I join Charlie on the couch after breakfast. There's a game on TV. I stare at it for a full half-hour before I realize that it's football and not baseball, though that doesn't really help me understand it any better. Charlie alternatively groans in annoyance and punches the arm of his recliner in celebration. I give him another half hour of pretending to join in before I give up and grab the battered paperback I left on the coffee table the night before. It's one of the 80's-era high fantasy novels that I loved when I was thirteen, filled with knights and princesses and sexism. It's engaging enough, even though I've read it before.

My stomach has just started to rumble into hunger when there's a knock on the door. Charlie glances at me, then makes to get out of his chair.

"I'll get it," I offer. I try not to be offended by the look of surprise and excitement on Charlie's face. I'm depressed, not an invalid, I want to snap. But sniping at Charlie doesn't make me feel any better: I already tried.

When I open the door, my brain immediately scrambles to update my memories. The Julie I remember as tall-for-a-girl is now whoa-did-you-see-how-tall-that-girl-is, grinning down at me from at least six feet. Her long black hair hangs damp over her shoulders, trailing down her bare arms. There's ice pelting down with the fine rain, but she's only wearing a black tank top and jeans stuffed into muddy motorcycle boots, a dark red flannel shirt tied around her hips. Her eyes, dark as sweet coffee, are the same. They crinkle at the corners with her wide smile.

"Hey!" she says brightly. "Long time no see."

"Hi," I say.

"Hey there, Julie. Come on in, you must be freezing." Charlie appears at my shoulder, just in time for us to move out of the way for Julie and shut the door against the cold.

"It's not so bad." She stomps the mud from her feet onto the doormat, carefully shaking the rain from her hair. She's telling the truth: she doesn't even have goosebumps on her leanly muscled arms. I, on the other hand, have to cross my arms over my chest to block out the rush of chill, burrowing myself deeper into my sweater. "How've you been, Charlie?" she asks politely, sliding her hands into her pockets.

"Can't complain," he answers, but he's glancing at me. Julie, seemingly unaware of the simmering awkwardness, looks down at me again.

"Did you shrink, Swan? Weren't you at least five foot the last time I saw you?" she teases.

I feel Charlie tense slightly behind me, but for a moment my old instincts return and I roll my eyes. "I haven't changed. You're the one who looks like she's been putting Miracle-Gro on her Wheaties."

Julie grins again, running one hand through her damp hair. "I blend it into protein shakes, actually," she retorts.

Something that feels like a smile tugs at my mouth. I'm surprised by how little it hurts.

"Let me, uh, go grab that stuff for you." The words have barely left Charlie's mouth before he vanishes upstairs.

For a moment, I panic - I can't sustain small talk with my mom on the phone anymore, much less a girl I barely know. I shift from one foot to the other. The fog in my head won't clear. I can't think of anything to ask her.

If Julie notices my empty nervousness, she doesn't seem affected by it. She leans her shoulder against the doorframe, looking down at me with a crooked smile.

"So what do you pale-faces do for fun up here?" she says, a teasing roughness to her voice.

I lift one shoulder in a shrug. I hadn't done anything fun since -

My brain slammed the door shut before I could count the days.

"That's fair," she says, as though I answered. "There's not much to do around here, if you don't go in for some variety on going out in the woods to bring a bunch of dead animals back with you."

"I heard that!" Charlie yells from upstairs. Something bangs on the floor: I spare a small prayer that he doesn't break anything in his charade.

Julie's smile widens easily to a full grin. I've never seen anyone like her: when she smiles, her entire body lifts, like she's seconds from bursting into light. She runs one hand through her long hair. "Can't get mad if it's true," she calls back at him. "Not that the rez is much better. Oh, you don't want to hear the tribe's histories again? You don't want to go to the same stretch of beach and stare at the ocean? How about drinking a bunch of cheap beer in the woods? No? Guess you're out of luck."

My old instincts take over again and I snort out a laugh. "I thought the Forks kids invented standing around drinking Natty Light in silence."

"Nah. That's an old Quileute tradition." Julie rolls her shoulders, wincing slightly as she flexes her muscles. The rain is starting to evaporate off her skin already. The only moisture left clings to the hollow at the base of her neck, the dip in her collarbones, the curve of her elbow. I wonder briefly how she manages to dry off so quickly. My hands are still damp with melting flecks of ice.

"We really do steal everything." The words come out of my mouth automatically; I'm not really paying attention. The part of my brain that keeps me alive is nearly smoking at the effort of keeping the thought of cold hands and icy lips from crashing to the forefront of my mind.

"Which is why they send me up here to steal away the hearts of your women," Julie says with a wink. She isn't acknowledging the monumental effort it's taking me to stay functional. But the quick sweep of her eyes across my face, the practiced ease of her smile, are all a little too careful - she's noticed, but she isn't commenting. From anyone else it would seem like discomfort: from her, it's a kindness.

"From what I hear, you don't have any problems with that on the rez, either." Charlie reappears with a few fishing poles and a jacket that I'm sure is his. I was there when Mom bought it for him one Christmas.

Julie lifts one shoulder in an acquiescing shrug. "It's in the Black genes. We're a long, proud line of very attractive people."

"Just what every father wants to hear." Charlie grins and hands over the poles and jacket. "You, uh, heading back to the rez?"

"Yeah, I've got some work to do on the Rabbit. I'm not saying I heard Dad on the phone trying to talk Hawkins into finding me a new transmission, but I am saying Christmas is coming up and she is nowhere near close to transmission transplant ready." That broad, easy smile softens Julie's face again.

"Don't suppose you'd feel like trying to teach Bella here a thing or two about engines, would you? Every time she has to call me to change a tire I feel like I've failed as a dad." Charlie's casual almost-joke doesn't fool either of us, by the look on Julie's face. I feel Charlie's eyes dart over to me, but I stare out the window past Julie's arm. I feel myself sliding - out of the conversation, out of the kitchen, out of the entire morning. I don't make plans anymore. I don't go places anymore. What the hell is Charlie doing?

"Thinking about taking shop as an elective next semester?" Julie tosses the question back to me. I don't look at her, but I shake my head. Like before, she takes my silence as a response, letting it slip into the flow of conversation as easily as if I'd spoken. "I didn't really take you for a mechanic type."

"I don't really know what type I am," I say. I see Charlie's face fall slightly, and my stomach with it. He thought he was doing good. He thought I was getting better. He tried so hard. "But I could give mechanic-type a shot."  An uncharacteristically broad smile lifts Charlie's face before I even register the words that came out of my mouth.

What the fuck, Swan.

Julie laughs and stretches her arms over her head. It feels like she takes up the entire kitchen, though I can't decide if it's her physical size or just her energy, if she'd fill up a room the same way if she was the same size as Al-

"I can probably teach her how to at least change a tire," Julie interrupts the dangerous thought before my self-preservation can get to it, like she saw the pain coming.

"Great!" Charlie's almost beaming now. My face flushes slightly: I didn't think I had the capacity to be embarrassed anymore, but when your dad is practically wriggling like a puppy over the thought of you leaving the house, embarrassment manages to find its way back in. "You girls have fun. Just bring her home before midnight, huh?"

"I always do," Julie says and tosses her hair over her shoulder. I feel the flush on my face warm a little more. I don't bother trying to understand why.

[clairenchanted]

wild sage; ocean spray; the earth in the high, dry summer. 

a few things you remember, in no particular order. / previous. 

o1. the room is dark and quiet with every thing that made it alive petering into nothing in the growing night. the television screen has gone to the complacent blue of the movie menu, and it spills insubstantially over kate’s face. it makes her face soft where it’s pressed against her arm and where her arm is pressed against ray’s. the shadows cast by ray’s hair grow darker, but he bleeds into light in the glow the further down his face is illuminated. 

you cannot see victoria. she is sleeping on your shoulder. your back is against the legs of the bed, and you are on fire where she is draped against your side, you are on fire in every place that she touches you and you hold her unintentionally upright. you don’t understand what it means, to feel so blindingly alive in a room so dark and still. you don’t understand how you have not burned down the bedsheets at your back, the carpet under your thighs, the delicate and infinitely breakable form of her cheek her elbow her knee jammed up into yours. 

it’s too quiet and far too loud. you sit for hours trying tread the water of your desperation, aching to understand why you are so acutely aware of your body. you don’t fall asleep. 

o2. you look at your reflection in your sister’s mirror. you try to understand what you look like in her sweater, turning a little to catch the light in the slivery threads that slip through the seams almost unnoticed until you see them the right way. emma shifts on the bed. you hear the way sheets shift under her. you wait for her to say something; the tension in the silence wraps around your throat and begs for your voice. 

deep maroon. you wonder if it’s too dark for you. 

i don’t know, she finally says, with the precision of a scalpel. 

what don’t you know? you don’t ask. 

a little more silence. you think about how short golden hour lasts, and how much you’ll blend into the shadows of the basement as the party lasts so much longer. 

she sighs. i don’t think it fits you right. 

you don’t know what to say to that, or why you want to say anything. but the chord wraps tighter and you scramble to find the release: can you argue? do you want this? does it matter? what could you possibly need help with? 

you look at emma’s reflection over your shoulder in the cool glass. your lips part; you don’t say anything. you take off the sweater and give it back. 

o3. no one says anything on the ride back home from the police station. you stare out the window of the SUV and idly note the landmarks that pass by. you don’t remember the questions you answered, and you never asked about the paperwork that was filled out. you turn the memory of your father on the phone over in your mind for as long as you remember to -- something about forms, something about documents -- and then it’s gone. 

the pitcher sage is growing. it’s april, so this makes sense. you know something about pitcher sage, or maybe you remember something, but the thought ebbs out to sea. you can’t smell them from here anyway, and you’ve never been anything but neutral towards plants. 

when you get home, the foyer feels a little larger than you thought it was. maybe the ceilings are higher. something hot presses against your elbow; by the time you turn, emma is already a few paces ahead. you catch only the tail end of her look, the last pointed hook of it, before she is gone up the stairs. in the distance, echoing in this too big and meticulously kept foyer, the slamming of her bedroom door is the only sound. 

your mother is wearing all black. she stands a few feet away from you at the crossroads where the living room branches off from the stairs. you watch her, cataloguing the things about her that stand out: her perfected waves frizzing at the ends; her lipstick smudging just at the corner of her mouth; the front of her dress is wrinkled. you don’t know why these details whisper to you, and you don’t know why you should care. 

o4. when you and victoria are nine, you realize the true extent of your power. it’s a hot day -- it’s too hot in a way that it never really gets in california, all sticky with rare, heavy storm clouds gathering on the horizon. every time you shift in the sand, it burns your skin where it’s bare. it hurts. the back of your throat burns and it’s stupid -- it’s just a stupidly hot day -- but the moment your face turns red and your eyes sting, there’s a sticky, familiar hand on your shoulder. 

c’mon, she says. she takes your hand and helps you stand. i think i have enough for ices. 

she doesn’t, and you want to cry because victoria is so nice and it feels so unfair that you’re just fifty cents short. your throat aches; you want to yell, even though it’s useless and selfish and bratty. even though you know better. it’s hot and it’s not fair and you just want to eat ices with your best friend in the whole world so you can stay out here and not go back home. 

aw. the ice seller guy probably isn’t as old as your parents but he’s old to you. you wonder if he’ll get mad at you both, but something breaks in his expression and he hands v’s money back to her along with two little ices, lemon and cherry. don’t worry about it, girls. 

this is a magnificent superpower, but you both whisper to each other that you need to be careful with it. you laugh when v’s lips turn bright red as she eats, and then you can’t stop laughing just, just because. 

o5. the hallways are packed with the throng. you marvel at the fact that you haven’t been trampled yet; you dread it, you dread its certain coming. you press yourself against the back of lockers, hugging your books to your chest. room 205 must exist somewhere but it doesn’t exist here and you don’t know which way to go. 

more important things don’t exist here: the ocean spray, the smell of pitcher sage, the tang of lemon ices from the boardwalk. the burning heat of the august sun and victoria next to you. you knew this would happen once high school started -- you’re right and for a moment, anger lashes up your chest and into your throat. how dare the world be so large and loud and so lacking of anything that you can cling to and understand with each intimate breath. how dare the world do this to you, how dare it take you here without your permission and ask you to deal with it. 

you manage to make it to english just as the bell rings. you sit in the back row, and you spend half the lesson curling notebook paper around your pencil. 

o6. there has never been a bigger deal than the junior class trip. your grades have been immaculate -- straight a’s, a glowing report card, a need for nothing more at the fall’s parent teacher conference -- and you find yourself with a signed permission slip and a check for mr. chester. 

we have basically two full days, v says solemnly, the two of you leaning over her spiral edged notebook. so we have to plan strategically. if we start with skiing, we’re not going to have time for anything else. 

you picture mammoth mountain’s snow capped peaks, soaring high above the hot desert valley below. you picture leaving the heat-packed sand behind, forgetting the dry earth. you think of cute hats and gloves and scarves, and try to imagine what it feels to look at your own outfit on your own body with approval. with excitement. maybe you’ll manage it -- maybe you’ll leave the constant, gnawing anxiety behind in southern california behind for a weekend. 

okay, you say, imagining v’s face red with the cold -- the tip of her nose, the tops of her ears. you smile to yourself and look at the notebook. do we have any time to hang out in the lodge? 

absolutely not, she says primly, everything under control. this is a once in a lifetime thing until we get into some fabulous east coast college and we can go skiing all the time. 

in between classes. 

sure, sure. now look, if we do snow tubing and ice skating first, we have the whole second day to figure out the skiing and snowboarding trails. 

you picture spinning in concentric circles over and over, hands linked, gentle guitar-heavy music wrapped around the scene. you nod. 

sounds great. 

we also have to sit with felicity for like, most of the time. 

-- felicity? you wonder sharply. felicity? you ask gently. 

she’s been making eyes at jake for like, the entire semester. she chews the words, deliberate and hard edged. something’s up. keep your enemies close, gus. 

you are cold. you are very cold. you breathe through it and look at the schedule printed in v’s spiky, flowing script. oh. i didn’t realize that was still a thing. 

it’s not anything. not yet. but i’m not going to let something just -- just happen between them. you know how i feel about jake. 

do you? you should. you should know everything about v. you watch the notebook, and you tell yourself you’re not cold. right, sorry. 

no worries. v waves a hand like it’s not a big deal. like it’s not important. that’s okay. it’s okay. just help me, okay? 

this is part of your world now: the smell of books, the off white lighting, the hallways of your same old high school. but it suddenly feels very, very large again and you don’t know how to form the words. 

okay? she asks idly, not looking at you. 

you nod. 

o7. three days after you all come home -- from the funeral by way of the police station -- your mother opens the door to your room. it’s past midnight. you blink at the sudden light, waiting until her silhouette resolves into something familiar. 

she jumps a little when she sees you. you don’t understand why. 

my god, she says. why are you awake? 

you don’t know, so you don’t answer. 

you watch her as she stands there, eclipsed by the low light in the hallway. part of you wonders, briefly, why she’s here, but then in the next wave the curiosity is dragged back out and you are left alone in your bed. 

she finally moves. you don’t know how long it took her. she presses the door behind you until it is still open but only just. she crosses the room. she stands by the side of your bed. she sits, so close to the edge you think she might fall off. she reaches out and you blink when heat -- searing, brilliant, entirely strange -- covers the back of your hand. you feel her flinch, and you look down at her hand then back up at her face. 

-- august. there is something rough in her voice that you don’t remember -- catching, steely, ragged. rusty. she reaches forward, pressing a hand to your face. her eyes are wide, brows up. she looks as if she’s searching for something, but you don’t know what it could be so you say nothing. 

in one motion -- sharp but fluid -- she wraps her arms around your shoulders. you don’t move, but you don’t feel the need to pull away. august, she says, as if there is something to excavate in the depths of your name. august. please, can you -- please? 

you don’t know what she’s asking, so you cannot answer. 

in shattered pieces, she pulls back. she looks at you, one hand still on your shoulder. her expression pinches more, still at her eyes and lips. august, can you please say something? 

what? you try to ask, because this seems like the most logical question, but you try for the sound and it rasps in the back of your throat, stinging with seawater. you grow colder. you try again, and nothing comes out. 

your mother’s expression draws darker. she lets go of your shoulder. coldness rushes in to replace the burning warmth. i don’t know why you’re being like this. i don’t know why i try. 

you don’t know either. there’s nothing you can say as she gets up and leaves, closing the door behind her. 

[marril96]

The Distance Between Us

Chapter 22: All Roads Lead to Scotland

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: You and Rowena finally have a heart to heart.

A/N: Huge thanks to @hell-is-empty-the-devils-are-us for medical info on Scotland.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

The last day of school, which was usually easy going and lax, had, for lack of a better world, been a mess.

The fight — or rather what was left of it — was officially ended by intruding teachers. The crowd dispersed, students sent on their merry ways. The parties involved were dragged to the Principal's office, each by a separate teacher to ensure the fight wouldn't continue, and their parents were promptly called.

You hadn't seen Crowley for the rest of the day.

Olivette and her posse had started the rumor mill right away. Why wait for the new semester when they could start their work while their memory — well, Olivette's memory for she was the only one of them who was actually there for the fight. Or rather, for its conclusion — was still fresh?

They'd tried to convince the student body that Crowley had attacked Lucifer because he was jealous of his popularity, and had tried to spice it up by adding bits and pieces about his unhealthy, unbrotherly feelings for Rowena, who, the poor dear, was torn between her own loser brother and her popular boyfriend.

No one bought it.

Not a single person.

Not even the usual gossip whores who ate up all the shit they heard regardless of its validity.

Everyone had witnessed the fight and its sequel starring you, Crowley, Rowena, and Olivette, with guest appearances from Lucifer.

They knew Lucifer was abusing Rowena.

They knew Crowley had beaten the shit out of him as payback.

They knew Lucifer and Olivette were screwing around behind Rowena's back, and that you were the one who'd outed them to the entire school.

They all knew, and they are it up like candy, hungry for more, more, more.

You hoped the impending holidays would calm everything down, let the dust settle. Allow for the new semester to be a new beginning.

Being one of the main characters in gossip stories wasn't how you'd imagined your Senior year of high school. Or any part of your life.

You weren't made for that kind of life.

Crowley had texted you later that day. He hadn't said much other than that he was okay and wasn't in as much trouble as he thought he would be. And that Lucifer had gotten his ass handed to him by, of all people, Crowley and Rowena's mother.

Crazy protectiveness seemed to run in the MacLeod family.

From what Crowley had told you, Rowena was okay. She wasn't talking much, but she was okay. Locked up in her room. Away from Lucifer.

For good, you hoped, prayed to anyone — anything — that would listen.

She deserved better than him. Deserved love, kindness, gentleness. Everything someone the likes of Lucifer couldn't provide her for it wasn't in his nature.

He was an animal.

A predator.

He used, took advantage of, abused. Ruined and shattered. Destroyed everything he touched, everything he laid his eyes on, like a savage.

He didn't deserve a girl like Rowena.

Despite telling yourself that it was early, that she probably needed more time, you found yourself on the MacLeods' doorway two days after school had ended. You were freezing, the cold air biting at your skin, seeping into your bones. It was torture, but you didn't let it discourage you from seeing Rowena.

You needed to explain yourself. Needed to tell her why you'd betrayed her, why you'd stabbed her in the back. Needed her to understand the last thing you wanted was to hurt her, even though that was exactly what you'd ended up doing.

You were her friend.

You cared about her.

You loved her.

Her ignoring your messages wasn't going to change that.

At the very least you wanted her to hear your side of the story.

If, after you explained yourself, she still wanted to pretend you didn't exist — if she wanted to cut you out of her life — you would respect her wish. It would hurt like hell, but you would respect it.

But first you hoped with all you had, from the bottom of your racing heart, that she would be willing to hear you out.

Ten minutes.

That was all you needed.

Afterwards, she could do what she wished, no matter how much it hurt you.

Her life, her choice.

Rowena opened after the second knock. Clad in pants and a glittery shirt, she left her bruises (and there were plenty; over her neck, down her arms, more no doubt concealed by the clothing) uncovered. No use hiding them now that the truth was out in the open in all its ugly, unpleasant glory.

"What are you doing here?"

Her tone was curt, stern, straight to the point. Making it clear she wasn't happy to see you, the sentiment confirmed by the narrowing of her eyes.

You swallowed back the hurt, clearing your throat before uttering in your weakest, smallest voice, "I wanna talk."

You understood her anger, understood her disappointment at her friend telling her brother about something she'd shared with you in confidence, but it still stung as if she'd slapped you in the face.

A slap would have surely hurt less.

"Please," you added, noting her raised eyebrow.

Rowena looked you over. Observed you from head to toe like a microscope, taking in every detail, every little bit of you. Then she sighed and stepped aside.

"Thank you," you said, pulling on a smile. Small, tight, but warm enough.

If she noticed it, she didn't acknowledge it. Her face remained cold as the air outside.

Ouch.

You definitely would have preferred to be hit than deal this kind of treatment. At least then the pain would be real, tangible.

This way it just hurt.

Everywhere.

Nowhere.

You supposed you deserved that. Rowena could hold a mean grudge. You knew that when you'd decided to reveal her secret.

It was worth it.

You stood by that sentiment.

Still…

It fucking hurt!

You hung your coat and followed her up. Gavin was standing at the top of the stairs, grinning happily. A little bundle of joy, innocent to the darkness of this world.

"Hi, Y/N!" he greeted.

"Hi, Gavin," you said, flashing him a bright smile. "How you doing today?"

"Okay," he said in that pretend mature voice children put on in attempts to sound older. Silly, but adorable. "Rowena gave me sweeties and she said not to tell mummy!"

"My, what a great sister you have!"

"She's the best!"

She was.

She really, truly was.

Rowena smiled at the compliments. A bit of color splashed her cheeks; not much, but enough to flush them a warm, healthy pink. "Gavin, love, why don't you go back to your room and eat some more sweeties? Y/N and I need some grown-up time."

"Are you going to study?"

"Aye. You know how important that is."

Gavin nodded. Rowena led him to his room while you got settled on the bed in hers. She was so adorable with Gavin. So sweet. It was hard to believe it was the same girl who shouted atrocities at Crowley and joined in on bullying.

Would she still do that?

Would she and Crowley still argue like rabid dogs?

Would her friends invite her to take part in bullying — or would she be their target instead of consort this time?

"So," Rowena said, shaking you from your thoughts. She closed the door behind you and crossed her arms over her chest. "Talk."

You sucked in a breath for courage. "I'm sorry for telling Crowley."

She quirked up an eyebrow, skeptical. "Are you?" Her tone was sharp as a knife, cutting straight through your heart.

"I am."

Well, you thought, kinda.

She scoffed. "Right."

You clenched your jaw. "I am sorry."

You were.

You truly, genuinely — from the bottom of your aching heart — were.

But you also weren't.

Not completely.

Rowena, clever as she was, well acquainted with you after months of getting to know you in this very room, could sense it. Could smell it all over you like badly concealed perfume.

"I know you're mad — you have every right to be — but I never wanted to hurt you," you went on to explain, to elaborate as best as you could for the real reason — the one that made your heart ache with every beat, that tore at your soul like the sharpest knives — could never leave your mouth. She couldn't know that you loved her. That every second from the time you'd found out about what Lucifer had done had been agony, had been fear that burrowed itself deep underneath your skin and wouldn't leave until you knew she was safe. "You have to believe that."

Rowena's eyes met yours for a brief moment before drifting sideways. You made sure to put as much emotion as you could into them, to make it clear that, despite there being more to the story, your reasons were genuine.

"Why should I?"

The coldness in her voice sent a chill down your spine.

"Because I'm your friend."

"A friend wouldn't betray me to my brother."

The nonchalance, however fake — for it was fake, you could tell from a mile away — stung.

"I didn't betray you," you said.

Rowena snorted. Any other time it would have been cute, but now it was just cruel. Unnecessary.

You weren't the villain here.

You weren't the one who'd badmouthed her and had slept with her boyfriend, or the one who'd beaten the hell out of her.

All you'd done was look out for her.

As a friend.

As a…

As something you could only dream of, that could never come to be reality.

"Jesus, Rowena! I just wanted to help you, and you're acting like I killed your mother!"

The words rushed out of you before you could try to stop them, a wild, uneasy storm twisting and turning inside of you, begging to be let out, to roam free. To lash out at her for being so stubborn and refusing to see what was right in front of her.

"I never asked for your help!" Rowena retorted.

A fair point.

Still…

"What was I supposed to do? Stand aside with my arms crossed until her put you in a bodybag?"

She widened her eyes a tad, taken aback. "I can take care of myself."

"I can see that." You got to your feet. Stood to face her. "You know what? I'm not sorry. There. I said it. I'm not sorry I saved your ass because somebody had to!"

If she were affected by your admission, she hid it well. "You couldn't resist the chance to play the hero."

"It's not like that and you know it." You looked her in the eyes. Pierced her with your gaze, intense, pleading. "What if it was me? Wouldn't you wanna help me?"

A flicker of something — understanding? — flashed over her face. It was gone in a split second, features smoothed back to marble coldness. "That's different."

"How is it different?" you asked.

Turning her back to you, she replied, "It just is."

"How? Why?"

Seconds passed, bled into moments. Silence settled over the two of you for almost a minute, loud, deafening. Making it hard to breathe.

You could ask the question a million times — Rowena wouldn't answer. Stubborn as she was, she would never answer.

For the truth was, there was no difference. If roles were reversed, she would have reached out to your loved ones in attempts to save you. She wouldn't have left you to your own devices, especially if you were in danger that could easily turn mortal.

Why couldn't she accept help?

Why couldn't she admit she needed it, needed you, needed Crowley?

Why did she have to be so damn stubborn?

Unless it was about more than just pride. Unless she—

No

It couldn't be.

That wasn't Rowena.

Was it?

The girl you knew knew her worth. Had the world under her feet and let no one and nothing stop her from getting what she wanted.

But there was more to that girl, wasn't it? There was the kindness you'd gotten to know, a clear contrast to the meanness. The sweetness. The patience. And that was just the part of her that lived here in this room, all alone, far away from the world where she had to be cruel to survive.

Which part had she left in Scotland?

What were you missing in the puzzle that was Rowena Macleod?

"There's nothing wrong with accepting help, Rowena," you said. "It doesn't make you weak."

More silence.

Then, in a tight, strained voice, "I don't need your pity."

That was what she thought? That you pitied her?

"It's not pity," you said in a tone you hoped came across clear. "I was just being your friend."

"Right." Disbelief. Pure, unadulterated skepticism.

It hurt. You thought she knew you better than that. "I am your friend, Rowena. I'm sorry that I hurt you, I really am, but if I had to do it again, I would." You set your jaw. Clenched your fists to subdue the anger that flashed through you, hot as fire. "I'd rather you hate me than keep getting hurt."

Rowena whipped around to face you, her eyes like daggers stabbing into yours. "Och, save the drama for the stage!"

"You think I'm lying?" Your voice trembled, betrayed the hurt that ripped at you like a thousand knives. "I'm not! I—"

I love you.

The words froze in your throat. Stopped in their tracks as if someone — something — had grabbed your neck and squeezed, hard, bruising.

You couldn't tell her.

She couldn't know.

Not now.

Not ever.

Breathing in deeply, you asked, "Why is it so hard for you to accept that people care about you?"

"Because they don't!" Rowena snapped, eyes glistening with tears she tried her hardest to hold back. "Nobody cares! Caring is weakness. Love is weakness."

What?

"You don't believe that," you said, more to yourself than her. A plea, weak, lowly, that you'd heard wrong. That it was a misunderstanding.

She gave a chuckle, a bitter one. "Darling, if you got to know the real world, you would believe it, too."

"What does that mean?"

"It means…" She sucked in a breath, willed herself to calm. "It means people are arseholes. They say they care, but they're lying."

"I'm not lying."

You would never lie to her.

Not about something this important.

She narrowed her eyes. Looked deep into your hurt ones. "You're lying to yourself."

"Is that what you want?" you challenged. "Would it be easier for you if I was liar? Are you that stubborn?"

"Don't you patronize me, lass!"

"Hit a nerve, have I?" Features softening, you asked, "Who did this to you?"

That took her off guard. "What?"

"Who made you distrust people so much? Someone had to."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Who was it?" you insisted. "An old friend? Boyfriend? Who was it that made you so cold?"

"You don't know anything about me!" Rowena shouted, defensive.

You were on the right track, then.

"I know you're not a bitch. You pretend, but you're not," you told her. "I know you're a good friend. A good tutor. That you like shitty old movies."

That prompted her to chuckle. "My movies are works or art," she said, head raised high.

"If you say so." You let out a chuckle or your own, then continued, "You like weird glittery clothes and matching makeup. Somehow you make it look—" sexy "—awesome."

She smiled. "Well, I am quite awesome."

"You totally are." And I love you for it. Oh, how you wished she could know! "What happened to you?"

Rowena's smile withered. She glanced to her feet, avoiding your eyes.

"It's okay," you said softly. "You can tell me."

Tears spilled down her face, dripping onto her bare toes. Step by careful step, she lowered herself on the bed.

"You're right — there's lots of things I don't know about you," you said, sitting down next to her. She looked at you and you wanted to weep for there was so much sadness in her eyes, so much pain that it hurt — it physically hurt — to sit there, unable to do anything to make it go away. Unable to help her when she clearly needed it. "But I'd like to know. I'd like to know everything about you."

"Why?" she asked, suspicion — cautiousness — creeping into her tone.

"Because I'm your friend," you said for the umpteenth time, and were willing to say it as many times more. You were willing to shout it from the rooftops like a maniac — anything for her to get it in her thick head that what you felt for her was genuine. If she only knew how much. "I want to understand you."

Her cheeks flushed at your admission. Carefully, tentatively, she asked, "What if you don't like what you hear?"

"I liked you when I still thought you were a bitch," you reminded her, prompting a small chuckle. "I'm sure whatever it is I don't know won't change my opinion of you."

Nothing she could possibly say would change what you thought of her. It wouldn't change your feelings, wouldn't change the shift in the beats of your heart whenever you came near her. Wouldn't change the tingles that shot through you every time your hands touched, or the rush that came over you whenever she gave you that big, encouraging smile and accompanied it with a compliment.

Whatever had happened — whatever had been done to her — could, if anything, only make you love her more.

Rowena fell into silence for a moment. When she spoke up, her voice was cold, distant. As if someone else were telling the story and she was nothing but an observer, an overly invested listener. "It happened back in Scotland."

You gave a small nod. "Crowley told me you were bullied."

Well, that it was a possibility. He'd never outright confirmed it, but you could tell he'd had his suspicions.

She laughed bitterly. "He doesn't know the half of it."

You'd figured as much.

"I wasn't very popular," she started her story. "I wasn't popular at all. People either pretended I didn't exist or mocked me." A flicker of pain flashed across her face for a split second; an old, never healed wound reopening, sprinkled with salt, bleeding profusely. "They thought I was pretentious because I did ballet."

"That's ridiculous," you said.

Ballet — any kind of dance, really — was art. Beauty and grace and power all in one.

Children could be cruel little bastards.

"To them it made perfect sense," Rowena said sourly. "I used to love to dance. But, as I got older, I started resenting it because it put a target on my back."

That's wrong, you thought, heart clenching with sympathy. Very, very wrong.

They had no right to do that to her.

"It wasn't just the ballet," she elaborated, taking a short pause to breathe. "They thought my nose was funny."

You thought it was beautiful; crooked and a tad hooked, unique in the masses. Peculiar. One of a kind. A lovely, perfect little imperfection.

"My family was poor. We couldn't afford the best clothes. Sometimes my mum made clothes for me. They were good clothes — they weren't rags — but I still stood out."

"I think it's awesome that your mom made you stuff," you said.

"She's very skilled," she admitted with a tinge of pride. "Compared to other girls, I was quite plain. Boys weren't interested in me."

You wanted to tell her it wasn't true, that, if there was disinterest, it was their issue rather than hers, but allowed her to continue.

"They still touched me. My arse. My boobs. Everywhere. To 'give me a taste because I would never get the real thing.' The girls thought it was funny. They spread rumors. I became the school's slut before I even had my first kiss."

She wrapped her shaky arms around her chest protectively, the memories, fresh again, eating at her like acid. Devouring her alive one little bit at a time.

You wanted to hug her. God, you wanted to hug her. Wanted to wrap your arms around her, hold her tight, and never let go. Wanted to tell her it was okay, that what had happened was their shame, not hers.

She was just a girl born into misfortune, too shy, too clumsy to take on such a big world.

Those people took advantage of that.

If anyone should feel bad, it was them.

"By the time I was in eighth grade, I was sick of everything," Rowena said. "I couldn't take the it anymore. All I wanted was to be liked. I thought, if I could get them to like me, maybe things wouldn't be that bad."

Her jaw tightened. A lump bloomed in her throat; she swallowed it, gulped down hard.

"There were these three siblings. The Loughlins; Catriona, Boyd, and Gideon. Boyd and Gideon always groped me with Catriona's blessing. Everyone gave me a hard time, but those three were the worst. They were popular. Their family was mad rich. They could do whatever they wanted without consequences; no one dared cross them. One time we were alone in a classroom and…"

Her breath hitched. Tears spilled from her eyes like a downpour. A sob threatened to rip free; she swallowed it, willed it back.

"It's okay," you said, laying a hand on her shoulder. A soft, comforting gesture. "It's okay."

She relaxed under your touch. "They were bothering me again and I… offered myself to them." More tears. "I-I just wanted them to leave me alone. I thought if they slept with me, they'd see I'm not that bad." A sour chuckle. "They laughed. Boyd was considering it, but Catriona — she told him it would be cleaner with pigs."

Anger burned at you, red hot, dangerous. You wanted to find those three, grab their necks, and squeeze until they released their very last breath. Wanted to punch them, kick them, hurt them the way they'd hurt Rowena.

They had no right.

Everything they'd done to her, every rumor, every taunt, every unwanted touch — they had no right.

"They told the entire school. Now I wasn't just a slut — I was a prostitute. Everyone started offering me money. Some of the richer kids threw it at me. It was unbearable. And then… then I met Gilroy."

A smile blossomed on her mouth, a sad one, one of longing, of memories that, while painful, hid bits of good in them.

"He was rich. Popular. And he was interested in me. The first boy ever to find me attractive."

First boy with taste, most likely.

"He was Catriona's boyfriend, but that didn't matter to me," she admitted. "I was mad at her and I thought of it as revenge. He was so charming. He promised to leave her 'when the time was right,' and, like a fool, I believed him."

Uh oh.

You didn't like where this was going.

"We'd had three wonderful months together. I loved him with everything I had, and he said he loved me. Then, upon our fourth month, I noticed I was late."

"What?" you uttered, surprised.

"I bought a test. It was positive."

"You were pregnant?"

"Aye," Rowena said, hands instinctively sliding down to her stomach. "I was terrified. I was only fourteen; I was too young to be a mother. But, I thought, if Gilroy wanted the child, we could work it out somehow. I wasn't the first teenager to fall pregnant. It would be difficult, but it wasn't impossible. We loved each other. That was all we needed, right?"

The smile faded from her face, light dying from her eyes in place of glum darkness.

"He didn't want the child. He didn't want me, either, anymore. He thought I'd done it on purpose, to trick him into giving me money. I tried to reason with him, but he wouldn't listen. He said, if I told anyone, he would deny it and no one would believe me. And he was right. Who would believe the school whore that she was impregnated by a popular rich boy who already had a girlfriend?"

You squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "It's fine. It's in the past now."

Years may have passed, but she was still hurt. She was still suffering. What that boy had done would stay with her for the rest of her life.

"That same day I went to the clinic," she said. "Got it taken care of as soon as possible."

"Did you tell anyone?"

"No. Aside from him, and now you, no one knows I've ever been pregnant."

She'd had an abortion at fourteen.

Alone.

Without a friend to hold her hand.

Without family to support her.

Your heart ached for her.

No wonder she'd turned so mean.

Nobody wanted to be around her.

Those who did took advantage of her.

Love had made her week. It had fooled her, took everything from her. Turned her life inside out.

"I was terrified I'd need my mum to sign papers, but law is different there," Rowena said. "Nobody had to know unless I wanted them to."

"Thank you for trusting me with it."

She looked at you, eyes big and so, so green. Sad and beautiful all at once. "You're my friend."

"I am."

If only you could be more.

But, after what you'd heard, after what had happened with Lucifer, you knew she needed time.

It was too soon.

Maybe it always would be.

And you were okay with that.

You could love her from a distance and be her friend for just because the feelings were there didn't mean you had to act on them.

Rowena came first.

Her wellbeing came before your wishes.

"I won't tell anymore," you assured her. "I promise."

"I know." She gulped. "Now do you understand why I couldn't leave Lucifer?"

"You don't need him, Rowena," you told her.

"I do," she said. "Without him and Olivette, I'm nothing. Like I was back in Scotland."

"That's not true." She raised an eyebrow. You sighed. "You weren't popular — so what? They bullied you, and that's on them. You didn't do anything wrong."

"That doesn't matter"

"It does. They took advantage of you."

"And I took advantage of Lucifer and Olivette." She spat their names as if they were dirty, foul.

"Doesn't mean they get to treat you like shit. Those assholes in Scotland had no right, and neither do these two."

Rowena closed her eyes, then, upon opening them, breathed deeply in and out. "What else can I do?"

"Tell them to fuck off," you said, loud and clear. "You're not alone anymore. You have me, and Sam, and Crowley. We're not gonna let them hurt you."

She flinched at that. Her eyes sparkled, brightened up with a new light that lit up within them. A reflection of her soul, healing, hopeful.

"This isn't Scotland, Rowena," you added, allowing your mouth to curl up into a smile. "You have friends here."

"You really mean that," she said in disbelief. You nodded, and she gave a small, self-deprecating chuckle. "Fool."

"I'm willing to take the risk."

You trusted her that much.

She wasn't perfect, far from it, but she was loyal. A good friend. A good person behind the mask she'd put on to protect herself from the evils of the world.

There was potential in her. Opportunities that would do her good, change her life for the better.

All she had to do was take them.

Her face suddenly darkened. "They will turn the school against me."

"They can try," you said, confident. Lucifer and Olivette had influence, but not to that extent. "They're not that powerful."

"They'll make my life hell."

"Again, they can try." Your hand slid down her arm in a soft, gentle caress before taking hold of hers. You squeezed her fingers, wrapped yours tightly against them. Tightened them into a knot, unbreakable, comforting. A wordless promise that you were here, that you wouldn't let them or anyone else lay a finger on her ever again. "I won't let anything happen to you."

She startled, surprised. Looked at you as if you'd just admitted you were in love with her. "You won't?"

"Nope. Think of me as your security guard."

She glanced you over and, teasingly, said, "You, a security guard?"

"I'm tougher than I look," you said in mock defense.

She quirked up an eyebrow. You shrugged, nonchalant.

"What if I don't need your… services?" She purred the word, licked her lips as she uttered it.

Your insides turned to jelly, fire burning hot in your veins, lighting you up from the inside out. Boiling you alive.

That accent.

So thick.

So delicious.

Almost,dare you say it, enchanting.

Damn.

"What if," she continued in that same playful tone, "I can take care if myself?"

"Doesn't hurt to have backup, does it?" you told her.

"I suppose," she conceded.

"Good girl."

She flashed a smile; a big, bright one, straight from the heart.

It was the most beautiful sight in the world.

"Don't worry," you said. "It'll be okay. We'll be okay."

"If you say so."

You knew so.

The bullies back in Scotland had only gotten away with tormenting her because she was alone. She'd had no one to turn to. No one to wrap her in a hug and tell her how amazing she was. No one to have her back.

Here, she had friends. She had you.

And you wouldn't let anything happen to her.

Never again.

If Lucifer, Olivette, and their little entourage thought they could bully her, they were wrong.

They may have gotten away with treating her like shit for over three years, but that ended now.

She wasn't their property.

Wasn't their little plaything.

Wasn't their doll to use and abuse as they saw fit.

She was a person.

The girl you loved.

And you would do everything in your power to protect her.

"I'm proud of you," you said.

Rowena frowned, taken aback. "Whatever for?"

"For telling me everything. For not putting up with Lucifer and Olivette's shit anymore. That must've taken a lot of guts."

Her cheeks flushed bright, ripe red.

You grinned.

Then, without thinking it through, you threw your arms around her and wrapped her in a hug.

Rowena froze. You could feel her heart pounding against your chest as you held her, could feel it speeding up, running full speed. Her body was warm against yours, skin soft, tender.

Home.

She felt like home.

How could anyone hurt such a delicate creature?

How could they bruise her?

How could they think it was okay?

Holding her, you wanted nothing but to protect her. To keep her like this forever, safe in your embrace. Far away from school cliques and hierarchies. Just… yours.

Only yours.

God, you loved her!

"You're so fucking awesome!" you said, when all you wanted to say was, I fucking love you!

"Aye," Rowena said, a tad coquettish. Teasing. "That I am, dear."

Her arms slipped around you, returning the hug. Reciprocating the tightness, the protection.

You melted into it. Gave yourself away to the sensation, to the feel of her against you. To the warmth that radiated off her as if she were the sun, your system's brightest star.

Your lifeline.

Your everything.

"Thank you for trusting me."

She offered no reply.

You held each other in silence, for what must have felt like hours. Just sat there and held each other as if your lives depended on it.

Maybe they did.

Maybe nothing else mattered except the two of you.

A girl could certainly dream.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @victoriasagittariablack @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @gaysnakess @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @ruthieconnells @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @tasyahilker @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock

[im-happy-at-home]

like i’ve got nothing on you || r.t.

Roger Taylor x Reader, John Deacon x (OOC) Veronica Tetzlaff

Rating: T, soft angst and fluff

Words: 3200+

A/N: Hi everyone, this is my first fanfic ever and I hope you all enjoy it! This is also my entry to @yourealegendfred‘s 3k challenge and I really had fun writing this! While this is inspired by Queen by Shawn Mendes, it ended up completely different from the song since I got carried away. Anyways, hope you like it!

Special thanks to @39-volunteers-to-space @cosmicsskies @all-we-hear-is for giving me much needed feedback and support!

“I think you’re going a little too far, Y/N.”

You turned to look at your best friend, Ronnie. You were sitting at a small table at the corner of the crowded pub. It was a Friday night, Queen had finished an electrifying set, and you just slow danced with Roger Taylor on the dance floor. You could still feel his arms around your waist and smell the sweat and smoke coming off of him after his incredible as usual performance, so it took you a little too long to respond to your friend’s statement.

“I’m sorry, what?” you answered, snapping out of the memory of Roger huskily singing along to the song playing, his breath on your neck giving you goosebumps as you wrapped your arms around his–

Ronnie sighed. “You know what I said, Y/N. You’re leading him on.”

“She’s right,” Ronnie’s boyfriend John added as he took a sip of his drink. “I’ve never seen Roger act the way he does when he’s with you. I think he’s falling for you.”

He had his arm thrown around Ronnie’s shoulders as she leaned against his chest, stealing a sip from his beer every so often. He was the reason you two went out to every Queen gig, no matter how far away from Ronnie’s flat it was. He was the reason Ronnie always had fresh flowers on her desk. He was the reason why she would always make two cups of coffee or tea before leaving for school. He was the reason she never had to take care of herself when he was sick. He was the reason she got inspired to wake up at sunrise to paint again.

They were the reason you had to turn away from the man you love.

You sighed heavily. “John, Ronnie, we’ve talked about this. We’ve got a good, fun, platonic relationship I don’t want being ruined by you two,” you said with a glare. “And for the record, he does all the flirting you accuse me of initiating. I just play along.”

“Oh, so you didn’t wear that incredibly sheer top for his benefit, huh?” she scoffed. “Or run your hands through his hair as you were dancing just now?”

“Or the way you eyed him when he played his solo tonight?” John added. You glared at him as you felt your face heat up. “What? I’m observant. I see things.”

“This is why I love you,” Ronnie stated. John’s eyes melted, but before they could get up to any romantic fluff, you interrupted. “Fine. If you could both please save it until you get a room, I am willing to admit I have been flirting with him. There I said it.”

“Finally,” Ronnie said with a roll of her eyes. John started clapping.

“Shut up, Deaks,” you shot out. John stopped clapping.

“So now that you admit it, what are you going to do about it?” Ronnie asked. The couple looked at you expectantly.

You leaned back on your chair, taking a second to observe your surroundings. Across the room, a middle aged couple were leaning on each other while watching the young and the free dance, whispering sweet nothings to each other and trading soft smiles. You could already see John and Ronnie in that same spot in a few years or so. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t see yourself. Or Roger.

You took a deep breath and looked them straight in the eye. “Nothing.”

“WHAT!?” Other tables around you looked over in annoyance.

“Oh my god, you wankers, keep it down,” you whispered, leaning heavily on the table trying to hide your burning face in your hands.

“What do you mean NOTHING?” Ronnie demanded. “Y/N, this has been going on for two months! Leaving this much unresolved tension is not good for either of you! It’s driving me mad!”

Your head shot up. “Don’t you dare talk to me about unresolved tension!” you growled. “I had to listen to you pine and whine over John for a whole fucking semester before he even asked you out! You have no right!”

Ronnie quieted as John let out the tiniest of smirks. He tried to hide it, but it was there.

“I’m sorry,” Ronnie mumbled. “I just think you two make each other happy, that’s all. Ever since John and I got together,” she said as she caressed John’s hand, “I guess I just want my best friend to have the same thing I have.”

You leaned your head on your hand and sighed heavily. Why did Ronnie have to be so sweet?

John gave her a gentle kiss on her cheek. “For the record, I agree,” he said. “Although, I thought I was your best friend?”

“Not now, love,” she said patiently. You looked down at the table.

“Look, I appreciate your support, Ron. You too, John,” you said, nodding at them. “Roger does make me happy, but it won’t ever be in the way you think he does. Or how I want him to.”

“What do you mean?” Ronnie asked as John furrowed his brows.

“We’re not compatible,” you said, nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders. “We would never last as a couple.” It didn’t hurt as much as you thought when you said it out loud.

“What the hell makes you say that?” John said aggressively. Ronnie shushed him, placing her hand on his arm to calm down.

“We’re too alike. We drink too much, we party too much, we’re too stubborn,” you listed. “We hate the same music, we read the same books, we laugh at the same people…I don’t know! I don’t need to explain myself to you guys,” you said, high strung. You could feel moisture gathering at the corner of your eyes.

“Those seem like things you have in common instead of things to hold you back,” Ronnie said, crossing her arms.

“What-that’s-no they’re not! Those aren’t the real-there are so many other reasons!”

“Pray, do tell.”

“We’re both young and life is messy,” you said, frustrated. “We both know that our friendship could be threatened if something bad happened to our hypothetical relationship. Hell, we’re both extremely attracted to multiple people at the moment, so why commit?”

That shut the couple up for a bit.

“I…guess that makes sense,” Ronnie said thoughtfully.

“It makes a ton of sense,” you said, relieved. “Listen, Roger and I like each other a lot, but not in the way you two do,” you said, your voice trailing off. You’ve never said that out loud before, and it made all the more real now that it was out there.

Right when it seemed like Ronnie was satisfied with your answer, John apparently wasn’t. “Then why do you keep leading him on?”

You and Ronnie looked at him in surprise.

He continued. “Listen, Y/n, I love you. But Roger is one of my best friends, and I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

“Get hurt?” you scoffed. “He’s got a new girl on his arm every other night. He doesn’t need me. He’s the one breaking all those poor girls’ hearts,” you said defensively. “Besides, he needs someone to keep his ego in check.”

“No, that’s my job,” John said half-jokingly, but went back to the conversation at hand seriously. “But I know Roger, and if you think he isn’t capable of having his heart broken, then you’re sorely mistaken.”

You looked down. You hadn’t thought of that before.

“Even if he’s a damn pain sometimes, he’s got the biggest heart I know. And that heart is obviously beating hard and fast for you. So please tell me this,” John leaned forward. “Do you want him or not?”

“I-“Ronnie and John waited patiently. “I do…” you said quietly. John and Ronnie were beaming triumphantly.

“But I can’t.”

“WHAT?” The tables around you were getting annoyed. You didn’t care.

“I want him, but I can’t have him,” you said decidedly. “And I won’t.”

“WHY THE FUCK NOT?” The tables around you were considering murdering John, but he didn’t care either. “Why not, y/n? You love him! Why are you doing this to yourself? Roger obviously loves you! Why are you-“

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Don’t you think I want to?” you yelled. “Don’t you think I want to be the one he goes home to at night? Or the one he wakes up to in the morning? Don’t you think I want to be the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with? Don’t you think I want what you two have? Don’t you think I want that so badly?”

You breathed heavily, two tears streaming down your cheeks. John quieted. So did the tables around you, but you both still didn’t care.

Ronnie did though. “Deaky, please,” she said, pulling her boyfriend to settle back into his chair. John apologized before sinking in his seat. You couldn’t look at them as you dabbed your face with napkins. They shared a look before Ronnie reached out and took your hand. “I’m sorry we pushed you,” she said quietly, her voice full of emotion. “We can stop talking about this, we don’t want to meddle any more than we already did,” she said, glaring at John. His shoulders sadly drooped as he nodded.

“Ever since you first introduced me to him, Deaky,” you began anyway, “I felt this undeniable attraction to him. We both did. And the more time I spent with you lot, I just,” you said helplessly, “started falling in love with him.”

Ronnie took both your hands in hers. John leaned forward.

“I was so ready, so, so ready for one of us to make a move. Weeks and weeks of flirting and smiles and inside jokes.” You sighed. “Remember last month, at the gig downtown?” Ronnie and John nodded. “You were so pretty that night,” Ronnie fondly remembered.

You smiled, but continued. “That was the night I was going to tell him. After the show, I was going to get him to dance, and tell him right there on the dancefloor how I felt about him. But I then I found him with another girl.” You paused. “Maureen.”

John’s eyes widened. “Maureen? As in the one with the red hair?” You nodded. “They were together for a week, weren’t they?” You nodded again.

“I wasn’t too upset when I found him with her at the gig. Just disappointed. All the effort to look that good for was for nothing,” you added half smiling. You still had your sense of humor. “Besides, I went home with someone that night anyway.” Ronnie scrunched her nose. “But what bothered me was how quickly she was gone.”

John’s eyebrows shot up.

“But y/n,” Ronnie began. “You aren’t like Maureen. You two…you two fit. You surprise him, you make him laugh and smile and-“

“Maureen made him laugh too,” you interrupted. “So did Jessica, and Beth, and Leah. I know their names, I didn’t forget them like Roger did so quickly. And I’m not even the one who dated them.”

Your table was silent.

“My point is, I don’t want to be one of those girls he gets tired of once the chase is over. You both know he loves the rush of pursuing someone. I’m not going to feed to his addiction. I can’t.”

“I want him in my life, hell, I need him in my life. And I’m not going to throw all that I have away.” Ronnie’s heart reached out to you. You sounded so defeated. “I love him too much. But I know that I can’t have what I want with him. I can’t have what you two have with him,” you said as John glanced at Ronnie with wide eyes. Ronnie was tearing up.

“You two showed me that love isn’t supposed to be about sex and labels and all that shit. It’s supposed to be about fulfillment and support and happiness.” Ronnie had her hand over her mouth, a single tear dripping down her cheek. John was blinking hard. They are so cute, you thought fondly.

“Roger and I, we could be so good together. We could be something incredible. But he could also get tired of me once the chase is over. I could hate him when he stops making an effort for me. We could break each other’s hearts and I won’t be able to bear it. ”

You took a deep breath and sat up straighter. You weren’t going to cry anymore. You didn’t need to.

“With Roger, with you and the other boys,” you said, your eyes softening. “I have people who love and support me, I have a family. And even if I don’t have what you two have, yet,” you added with a smile, “I have you guys, and that’s all I need right now.”

Ronnie reached over to give you a hug, warm and tight. John cleared his throat as he patted your back, firm and comforting. You loved them so much.

You weren’t sure, but you could hear sniffles coming from the other tables, too.

“And even if that means not being able to shag that sexy piece of art every day,” you blurted out, “then it would have been worth it.”

Ronnie sighed and dried her eyes as John rolled his eyes and chuckled fondly. You were back to your old self. The other tables were rising up to leave.

John was still thoughtful, though.

“Is that why you still look at him the way you do?” John asked. “Because of what could have been?”

“I’ll always look at him like that. I’ll always love him,” you reflected. “But no way am I letting him know, because I see now that I’m way too good for him.” Your eyes sparkled mischievously. The couple chuckled.

“Who’s too good for what now?”

Your head whipped around as the bastard himself, Roger Taylor walked up. All tousled blonde hair and gorgeous blue eyes of him. All wide smiles and youthful laughs. He was holding two drinks in his hands, and very visible lipstick streaks were on the corner of his lips. John saw your eyes linger on it, and flinched. Ronnie’s heart sank for you. But you surprised them, and yourself, when you said, “You. I said we’re too good for you.” You were calm, collected, and undeniably at the peak of coolness. Ronnie and John were impressed.

Roger’s lips turned down, but the mirth was still in his eyes. He was used to you, and was looking forward to the banter you two shared regularly. “What did I do this time?” he asked defensively.

“You were supposed to bring me my drink ages ago,” you scolded him as you took one of the larger drinks in his hand. “And here you come crawling over after promising to sit with us tonight instead of taking those fangirls of yours outside for some action.” You shook your head as you took a sip of your drink. He blushed, scowling. “I have to admit, though,” looking at the lipstick on his lips, “that’s a pretty shade of burgundy.”

Roger swiped his fingers against his mouth, eyes widening when his fingers were stained with red. He grabbed a few napkins while everyone at the table laughed at him, harshly rubbing at the stains on his face.

“For your information, a fucking fangirl jumped me,” he said with a scowl. “You know, the one with the huge hair?” he said to John. John hummed in recognition. “Yes, the annoying one.”

Ronnie’s eyes were getting dangerously dark. “You’re…familiar with this groupie?” she asked him deathly quiet.

John not knowing what to do, you decided to jump in and save the day.

“Ronnie, relax, we all do.”

“What?” all three of your friends demanded.

“Tall? Big hair?” you confirmed. Roger nodded suspiciously.

“Hmm,” you nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I knew it. I believe that fucking fangirl goes by the name of Brian May.”

Roger hid a smile as he shook his head, John cracking up and giving you nod of thanks. “I’m kidding Ronnie, relax a little, John’s too scared too even look other women anyways.” Ronnie shook her head at your antics as John heartily agreed with you.

As the laughter died down, you caught Roger looking at you fondly, and you blushed, taking another sip of your drink. Damn those eyes of his. After tonight, it hurt when you realized how he only ever looked at you like that. “Good show tonight, Rog,” you said with a soft smile.

“Thanks,” he said gleefully. “Had to put on a show for all the lovely ladies out here tonight.”

Your heart warmed until you heard some high pitched giggling behind you. Three girls were standing at the bar staring at the table, eyelashes fluttering and fingers twirling their hair annoyingly at the two boys. John sighed and pulled Ronnie closer to his side. Ronnie leaned into him, but her eyes were on you. Roger was grinning. You looked away, unconsciously moving away from him, not noticing his arm about to go around your shoulders to pull you closer, too. Roger’s grin faded as John and Ronnie’s eyes caught everything. You sipped your drink.

“And the lovely men out here, too,” you added, nudging your head to the other side of the bar. Everyone whipped their heads to where you looking. A few guys in gorgeous outfits were lounging around Freddie and Mary, laughing and having a good time. Two of them caught Roger staring. One winked at him while the other smirked and cocked a flawless eyebrow. For the second time tonight, Roger was red and speechless.

The atmosphere at your table relaxed as it was spent making fun of Roger and the shenanigans he and the others would get to. The night was warm and peaceful, you and your friends sharing drinks and stories throughout the evening. It was perfect. But despite everything, you still had to hold yourself back at all the opportunities you could’ve traced patterns on Roger’s thigh or leaned your head against his shoulder. John was right. You couldn’t make him think that something was there when there wasn’t. When there shouldn’t. He didn’t deserve that, and neither did you.

If you missed the way Roger would smile softly at you or how he would get lost in thought as he listened to you talk, you only did because you were forcing yourself to look away from him. You replayed the memory of last slow dance you two shared, deciding that it was finally time for you would stop pining over Roger Taylor. This was it. You were going to move on, whether the two of you liked it or not.

————-———————-———

“I’m worried about them.”

John looked down at Ronnie as they walked back to her apartment where he would presumably be spending the night. The moon was bright as the only sounds around them were the crunching of gravel beneath their feet.

“You saw how he looked at her, right?” John asked her.

“And the way she would look away,” she added quietly.

“It’s painful to watch, especially after everything Y/N said.”

“Someone’s going to get hurt.”

John tightened his hold on her hand. “Both of them are.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence, wrapped up in thinking about the lives and loves of two of their best friends.