#i was supposed to start studying twenty-four minutes ago

[jamespottersdaisy]

It's nice to have a friend.

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

"No one loves a monster like me."

"I do."

warnings- cursing, the prank (with major changes), angst (?), my writing

13k

author's note:- i wrote this listening to taylor and lana. english is not my first language, so beware <3

"What time do you call this?"

You bit down your lips at Remus's flat tone. He looked up from his book with an expression you couldn't figure to be irritated or nonchalant.

"I'm so sorry, Remus. I got carried away with astrology," you said as you attempted to sit beside him. He quickly put his books on your seat with a loud thud. Fortunately for him, the library was empty.

"Then go and play with your stars."

"What?" you asked, a bit confused. "Aren't we supposed to study together?"

"We were. But you're late," he said, shaking his head.

"I'm only twenty minutes late," you furrowed your brows at his uncharacteristic rudeness.

He was staring at you as you glared back.

"You damaged your brain while studying Transfiguration without me, didn't you?"

You arched a brow uncomfortably, getting ready to talk again, but Remus's face softened and changed into amusement. The next thing you heard was his light laughter.

"Hilarious, prick."

"I'm a funny bloke," he chuckled as he lifted the books to grant you a seat, which you took.

"You're not really, James and Sirius are way funnier."

"Weren't you the one throwing a tantrum over their prank yesterday? You certainly weren't laughing."

"They died my hair to green! And don't act like you had no part in it."

"I only told them green is your favourite colour. Was I wrong?"

You blankly ogled his smirk.

"Green suits you."

"You know what suits you, Remus? Purple. Should I do something about it?"

To your irritation, his smirk widened. You turned your hand into a fist. "Which eye is your favourite?"

"I only have two."

"That's not an answer."

"Is there supposed to be an answer? The two are the same."

"Well then," you threw your fist at his eye, Remus raising his arm to protect himself.

"Did Sirius bribe you to hit me?"

"No, but he did offer me some galleons in exchange for your chocolate this morning."

"That was you?!"

This time it's your turn to smirk.

"Time is of the essence, Remus, we have to study." you opened a book before you, waving off Remus as he grumbled something under his breath.

You started to study together, helping each other occasionally.

It was a habit now; you two would study together every week for at least four evenings.

Remus was frustrated today; you could tell from his bouncing leg and twitching lips. But you didn't point it out; you knew he felt uncomfortable when someone coddled him. It was one of the perks of being best friends for five years.

From the first year of Hogwarts to the sixth year, you learned almost everything about Remus by heart. How he scratched the hairs on the back of his neck when deep in thought, or how he never looked up from his book while reading, even if his friends were trying to converse with him.

In return, he knew exactly what to tell you when you were overwhelmed by the studies or how to make you laugh when you were feeling like crying.

You two had always been there for each other, listening, understanding, and supporting one another through everything. You had stayed in the hospital wing all night for Remus when he broke his arm in the third year, and he had been there for you when you were burning with a fever two years ago.

There were too many incidents like these which you and Remus shared that proved the special bond between you. James, Sirius and Peter were also your friends, but with Remus, it was different; unique.

He had made you feel appreciated and loved, never let you down or never let anyone look down on you. Sometimes James and Sirius would mock you two for this affection, but that would always earn them a smack on the head from Remus.

You knew everything about him, and he knew everything about you.

Well, almost everything.

He didn't know that your affection for him was something more; It had been for quite some time now.

At first, you thought it was an innocent crush because of teenage hormones or something, and it would fade away with time.

But it didn't. You grew out of 'I fancy Remus Lupin' to 'I love Remus Lupin'. Of course, you never confided in anyone about your burning infatuation, keeping it secret, burying it deep inside your heart.

The same secret that was fighting to break free from your heart's walls every time Remus smiled at you.

The same secret that was clawing from its grave to get up and fly, bleeding your heart every time Remus embraced you and called you a friend.

The same secret that prickled your eyes with tears every time you remembered that you weren't the only one keeping secrets.

He was keeping something from you, too.

You had always felt it in his eyes, glancing away when you would ask about a scar on his arm or a cut on his thumb.

The first time you fought on it was when you saw the huge scar on his face in the second year. You had worried so much that you pushed Remus's patience, and he had yelled at you. For twelve years old, it was a big hit in their friendship. You hadn't talked to each other for two weeks. In the end, Remus approached you to apologize and explained how the Marauders' prank had backfired, resulting in his scar. You had cried that day because of how much you had missed your friend. Remus hugged you tight, but you could swear you heard a sniff or two from him as well.

Remus would always say the scars on his body were because of a prank, and you would pretend to believe it.

Until this year.

You may be a Gryffindor, but you weren't stupid. You had noticed how he would disappear every full moon and "get sick." You didn't push him before because you thought maybe he needed time, but his distrust was turning the understanding in you into resentment.

It hadn't been to hard make speculations about the situation, but you wanted him to confide in you.

"Are you asleep with your eyes open?" Remus startled you, pulling your focus back to the present.

"Are you calling me a dolphin?"

"You two have a lot in common," he patted your head with his quill.

"Freakingly cute?"

"Freakingly evil."

You elbowed him but regretted it the moment he grimaced with pain.

"What's wrong?" you asked, albeit you immediately guessed another injury under his brown jumper.

He forced a smile. "You just proved my point."

"I didn't even hit you that hard!"

"You tell yourself that," Remus stood up, nodding simultaneously. "That's enough for today."

"Already? You sure you okay?" you worried a bit, standing up. "It's only been forty minutes."

"For you, lazy lady. I've been here for an hour, remember?"

"Go on, rub it in, or I won't hear the end of it until tomorrow."

You two were walking to the exit now with relaxed paces.

"Yeah, about that. I won't be able to study with you tomorrow."

You inhale a deep breath and huff it out.

Here goes nothing.

"Again?"

"Yes," his voice is rusty now.

"Why?"

"Marauders thing."

Same excuse as the last month.

You didn't say anything, giving him one more chance again.

"That's bollocks, Remus."

Remus simply curved a side of his lips to a tiny smile, almost unnoticeable to anyone. Well, anyone but you.

However, you were too irritated to mellow at his smile.

Only for one day, you didn't see him, and he had a new scar, and what a coincidence that the same day was a full moon.

"You really shouldn't curse."

"What truly happened to your arm?"

"Sirius accidentally cut it," he said for the third time that day.

"Stop lying."

Maybe you were wrong to push him like this, but you didn't care at that moment.

"I'm not lying, Y/N," he said before grabbing both his and your books and pressing them between his left arm and torso. "Let's go, we have class in ten."

When you didn't budge, his smile grew, and he stretched his free hand towards you.

"Come on, move your arse. We'll be late."

"You shouldn't curse," you said firmly, trying to look as angry as you could. You were on your limit and had no intention of backing off this time. "And I'm not coming with you."

"Why is that?" he pulled his outstretched hand back to the pocket of his trousers, wearing a soft expression, which his mocking tone contrasted with.

"You know why."

"I'm afraid I don't know why you are not coming to class."

"I will go to class, just not with you," you scowled at his nonchalance.

He pressed his lips into a thin line.

"And why is that?"

"Because I've decided that I'm not talking to you."

"That's not fair."

"Yes, it is," you snapped, standing before him. You waited a few minutes for something, eyes narrowed. When Remus chuckled at your annoyed expression, you walked past him, hitting him with your shoulder.

Striding to the common room's exit, you ignored Remus's call. Only after leaving his sight, you fathomed that you had left your book with him but shrugged it off. You two always sat next to each other, and Remus was too nice of a friend not to bring it back.

"Hey, angry lady." his playfully soft tone danced in your ear, making your heart flutter in your ribcage.

"Go away."

"We're headed to the same class."

"Go away from me, then."

"I'm carrying your book."

"No one asked you to," you still hadn't spared him a glance but could feel the soft smile on his lips.

"No one needed to. I'm a gentleman."

"My arse."

"What about it?"

Your head snapped in his direction. Remus was smirking at you, acting like you weren't almost about to fight ten minutes ago.

You walked into the classroom from the door Remus held open for you straight to your seat.

"Give me my book back."

"You forgot the magic word, lady," he sat next to you. "You know, the one starting with 'P'."

"Petrificius Totalus?"

"That would also work, but I had something nicer in mind. Try again?"

"Periculum."

"What would you need the flames for?"

"To burn you."

"You're so violent this morning. Hadn't had your morning coffee?"

"Just give the bloody book back."

"Now that I think about it, you've been violent for the last three days."

You groaned when the professor started the lesson.

"Don't be bitter, Y/N," he pleaded, watching you snatch your book back. He hated when you were angry at him. "I already told you the truth."

"That's rubbish, and you know that," you whispered so the professor wouldn't hear you. "We're not twelve anymore."

"You were a lot nicer when you were twelve, though."

"And a lot stupider."

"Aye. You'll hear no argument from me."

You knew he was merely attempting to lighten the mood, but he didn't realise it only made you more furious.

"Why are you keeping a secret from me?" you finally blurted out the question gnawing on your insides.

Remus's smile ebbed. He exhaled sharply before turning away from you.

"I am not keeping anything from you."

"Then you must think I am gullible because that's the only explanation for you repeating the same 'prank injuries' lie over and over again."

"That's not a lie."

"Is there a problem?"

You clenched your jaw when you heard the professor's rough voice.

"No, Professor," Remus shook his head, ending the chatter.

You didn't talk for the rest of the lesson. However, to your frustration, you couldn't help but sneak glances in his direction only to find him doing the same.

The moment the class was dismissed, you immediately got up and left the room. The last half an hour in the boring potion class made you question some things. You were at odds with yourself.

And now, in the middle of the hallway, with your books to your chest, your mind was hosting a party for questions.

Was it really about you? Maybe no.

Did Remus deserve some secrecy? Maybe yes.

Did your infatuation with your best friend get in the way of your judgement? Breaking your heart not because he had a secret he didn't want to share but because he didn't love you back? No, of course not (It did).

But you deserved his trust. At least, that was how you were feeling based on the years of friendship.

Were you wrong? Probably.

"Y/N!"

You took a deep breath and blew it out as you turned to face Remus, who quickened his pace to catch up to you. He's smiling. Again.

"What?"

"You still pissed at me?"

"Yes? No? I don't know, Remus," you shrugged and carried on walking to the Great Hall. "I don't understand why you won't share it with me. Don't you trust me?"

"I do," he drawled, and you waited for him to continue. He hesitated at first but gave up after your determination not to make a sound.

"Listen, it's not something about you. I just don't like sharing it."

"Does James know? Sirius? Peter?" you arched a brow, desperately hoping for him to say no. You watched him he open his mouth and close it without a reply.

Well, that was it.

He didn't want to tell you, and you were supposed to be okay with it.

You nodded, hurt at something you didn't want to voice.

Remus stopped you from your arm, turning you so that you would face him. His hands made their way to your sulked shoulders and caressed them back to your hands to hold them tight, sending shivers through your body.

"When the time is right, I will tell you," he said. You looked up into his brown eyes, forcing yourself not to peek at his lips. You had always loved his eyes, and his lips.

"I promise. Just trust me."

You lowered your head, closing your eyes to the pleading in his words.

"I just don't understand why you don't trust me."

Remus stepped forward, letting your head lay on his chest.

"I told you, dove. This is not about you. Truly."

You knew it too.

You knew the reason you were so angry was not Remus but your love for him.

You knew you were not resenting Remus but your own inability to suppress your feelings.

So you nodded, hugging him back.

"What do you smell?" you asked Remus, trying not to sound too eager or excited. You were hoping he couldn't hear your racing heart and couldn't see your trembling hands.

Remus inclined his head to the potion, taking in the smell the Amortentia was radiating.

One, two, tree...

He frowned, looking lost. He clenched his jaw, blinking fast. Something must be wrong.

Six, seven, eight...

He cleared his throat, locking his eyes with yours.

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen...

Remus straightened his back, curling the side of his lips upwards awkwardly.

"What do you smell?"

You gulp, lips parting and then closing and then parting again. You weren't sure it was the right thing to tell him what you smelled from the love potion.

Parchment, coffee, melting chocolate.

Everything that reminded you of him.

"I asked you first."

You sounded taut, internally having a fight between your heart and your brain over the control of your body, mind, and soul.

You didn't know what you wanted to hear from him exactly, but what you did know was that you were praying for it to be something, anything that would remind him of you.

"It's- it's nice," he simply said.

"Mine, too."

"What is it?" he asked, his voice so low that if you weren't so close to him, you wouldn't hear him from all the chatters in the classroom.

You longed to tell him.

Tell him and get it over with. Put down the weighing affection in your shoulders, your lungs and your heart, even if it meant having it broken.

You looked up at him, biting your lower lip so hard it almost bled.

Remus waited and waited and waited for you.

"It's uhm, it's parchment... and uh,-"

"Mr Lupin, are you two done with your potions?

You quickly put a distance between you and Remus. Professor Slughorn stood by the pot, smelling the potion.

"Ah, you are. Well done, you two."

You refused to turn back to Remus, your eyes examining every student in the classroom as Remus cleaned the desk.

James Potter was grinning at Lily Evans, who, in turn, had an unreadable expression on her face. You hoped Lily had smelled James; it would make your friend foolishly happy.

It was a bit chaotic in the room; happy, angry, sad and confused faces were scattered around. A student had even managed to blow up his potion somehow.

You saw Sirius and wondered what he had smelled, but soon your thoughts took a turn when you noticed Sirius was not alone. He was muttering something to Severus Snape with a devilish grin on his face.

"You guys have another prank coming?" you asked Remus, your eyes not leaving Sirius.

You didn't see Remus flinch and almost drop the knife.

"No? Why?"

"Oh, nothing. Then Sirius must be messing with Snape for his own amusement."

Remus hummed softly.

"I love James and Sirius, but was this really necessary?"

It was cold, and you were freezing, not because you had clothed lightly but because it was seven in the morning and in the middle of winter. Remus, seated next to you, was in no better condition. All because your friends insisted you watch them fly around on a broom.

"Well, he had said we were a great support."

"Do I look like any kind of support at this moment?" your teeth were starting to chatter. You closed your eyes at Remus's chuckle, hoping, wishing and praying that you would never forget its sweet melody.

"You look anything but."

You laughed at his words, totally oblivious, his gaze lingering on your smile.

"When is even this game?"

"In two weeks, that's the only thing Pads and Prongs talk about. Where's your head at?"

"I usually tune them out. They're disturbingly loud."

James screamed loudly at Sirius; you threw an 'I told you so' glance at Remus, who rolled his eyes in return. You liked when he did that.

"Try living in the same dorm room with them."

"Must not be fun since you're carrying the scars of the battle in your body."

"And in my soul," he nodded swiftly several of times. You adored the way his brown locks messed into each other, still looking fluffy. "Are you cold?"

"No, I'm sweating," you snarked, peeking at Remus. Maybe you were wrong because he definitely appeared more decent than you were. He beamed at you, sneaking in closer, his leg brushing yours.

Without further ado, he pulled his arm over your shoulder, tugging you to his chest. Your breath hitched as his scent filled your mind.

You hated how your heart reacted every time you were this close to him; a hand away to hold his hand, a breath away to kiss his lips-

"Better now?"

You pushed the image deep into your mind, heat blossoming in your chest, colouring your cheeks.

"Cheers."

The next you-don't-know-how-many minutes later, the practice was over, and the players were now descending to the ground. Remus hadn't let go of you yet, not that you wanted him to.

You watched as James and Sirius joked around, Peter joining them later on.

"Hey, lovebirds! Come down!" James yelled, his hands around his mouth.

You raised your head to see Remus frowning at them before smiling at you, which you returned shortly as you stepped out of his warm embrace.

"Who's hungry?" James asked as you two also joined them and answered before anyone else could. "I am. Let's eat."

"Evans still won't tell me what she smelled in Amortentia."

"Drop it, mate. If she wanted to tell, she would've," Sirius slapped James's back before stepping into the Great Hall before everyone.

"If you push her, she might get irritated, you know," you reasoned with James, albeit you knew it was in vain.

"With me? Impossible, I'm lovely."

"Not to her, apparently."

"Not everyone has a Moony around to cuddle, Y/N."

Peter snorted and dodged the hit from Remus's hand.

"What? James, that's not even relevant!" you hid the crimson of your checks with feigned annoyance, refusing to glance at Remus.

"It doesn't have to be relevant," he shrugged, grinning ear to ear. You shook your head, grabbed a toast and didn't see Remus arch a brow at James.

"Where's Sirius?" Peter asked, making all of you turn around.

"He was there a minute ago, was he not?" you questioned, aimed mainly at James. If there was only one person you could ask about Sirius, and he would have an answer, he was James.

Obviously, not this time because James simply shrugged.

You were jealous. You had never been jealous over Remus until now.

You knew Lily Evans was his good friend, you liked her too, and you knew Remus would never even think about her in that way.

But still, you couldn't help but feel like you were on the edge of a cliff, waiting for someone to push you every time Lily would put her hand on Remus's hand, grazing the tiny cut lightly with her thumb. Your heart was a target to all sorts of knives when you heard Remus chuckle at Lily's words.

You couldn't help but wonder if she knew Remus's secret.

"Jealousy is not a good look on you, Y/N," Sirius cut your thoughts short.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you dismissed him with a shake of your head, pulling your gaze from Remus to the potion top. "Did you add the Powdered Root of Asphodel?"

Remus had always told you that you were the girl closest to him, and it would always stay like this. But you couldn't get rid of the doubts in your mind you were so certain that were emerging because of your feelings.

"Yes, stir twice clockwise," Sirius started working on Sopophorous bean juice. "I'm talking about Moony."

"What about him?" you bit down your lip and hoped your voice didn't shake when Remus's nickname startled your train of thought. How you loved that nickname...

"Others may be oblivious but don't be ridiculous, I see how you stare at him."

You didn't know how to reply to that claim, so you kept silent but turned your eyes to the long-haired boy. He smiled at you as if an encouragement, which almost crumbled your defences. You were on the verge of giving out.

Would it be bad if there was at last a person to share your feelings with?

"So, is it a monthly 'I fancy him' situation or..?"

"Something more," you finished for him, earning a croon. Here, you had said it with no guarantee that he would keep your secret but with the hope that he would help you carry the burden.

"Am I that transparent?"

"Only when you're jealous, love."

You nodded, smiling a little.

Sirius watched the way you were picking the skin around your nails.

"Hey, stop worrying. I'll tell no one."

Relief had hugged you at that moment, thankful that Sirius took your feelings lightly and didn't make a big deal out of it. Also, happy that you weren't alone anymore in this secret; you had someone capable of understanding.

"Sirius?"

"Mhm?"

"Do you think he'll ever...love me back?"

He sighed, drying his hands. You felt his hands on yours, returning the gesture.

"You know Moony, he doesn't talk about feelings," you laughed bitterly, placing your head on his shoulder. "But he is a plonker if he never returns your feelings, and I'll make sure he gets a new scar if he ever hurts them."

"Thank you, Pads," you melt into his hug as you feel his arms around your waist.

"You smell of strawberries," he took a strand of your hair into his hand, sniffing it. "What shampoo are you using?"

"Stop smelling me like a dog!" you pushed him away, giggling when he gasped in fake hurt. "Focus, we still have to finish that potion."

Sirius carried on with his Sopophorous bean, and you looked around for a sloth brain.

"Did you forget the sloth brain?"

"I thought you were going to get it," Sirius shrugged, looking up. "Moony and Evans have one more. Go and grab from them."

You glanced at the pair, noticing that Remus was already staring at you. He didn't budge when you smiled at him and changed his focus back to Lily.

Red hair, green eyes, dainty freckles and graceful stature. Why did she have to be this beautiful?

You sauntered to their seat, passing near a bunch of students that were requiring the Professor's attention. Remus refused to look up to you when Lily offered you a kind smile.

"Hey, Remus, do you mind sharing an ingredient with me and Sirius?"

"You don't have it?" his tone was not kind, and his eyes were cold.

"I thought he was supposed to take it, but it turns out he thought I would take it," you mumbled real quick, still not fathoming the reason behind his coldness. "So here we are."

"You guys were pretty out of it. How do you even manage to get the job done?"

"We are doing fine," you frown. What was wrong with him?

"Yeah, I saw."

"Are you going to let us borrow the ingredient, or should I ask James and Pete?"

His gaze finally changed into something you couldn't quite name. He turned to Lily, who was trying her best not to pry.

"We won't need the spare," she consented in an instant. Remus dashed to the other side of the desk, clutching the jar and dashing back to you.

"Thank you," you mumbled as you clasped it in your hand. He merely nodded one time before carrying on with whatever he was doing.

You could swear you heard Lily whisper to him, 'What the bloody hell is wrong with you?' before parting, but you ignored it.

You couldn't find Sirius when you were back, so you finished the last steps of the potion on your own. He didn't pop up when the Professor checked the work or when he dismissed the class.

"Why are you pissed at me?"

"Moony is pissed at you?" James hopped in as you made your seat next to Remus, who was busy with his meal.

"Yes–"

"I'm not."

You stared at him in disbelief and bemusement.

"You certainly are. Now tell me why."

When Remus looked at you, a smile inched his lips up though his eyes were still grumpy.

"Where's Sirius?" he asked.

"I-I don't know," your head sought him out, giving out in confusion. "How is he any relevant?"

You ignored James muttering, 'You really do like that word, huh?' as your eyes desperately tried to understand why Remus was being weird. But instead of an appropriate reason, all you got was a shrug.

You shook your head in dissatisfaction and stretched your arm for the pumpkin juice. Seeing your attempts, Remus's hand had already grabbed it and now was pouring the juice for you.

"Thank you," you whispered before clearing your throat. "So, we'll study together in the library again, right? Now that you're not 'angry'?"

Remus shook his head when you drew quotation marks with your fingers in the air.

"Today, yes. Not tomorrow, though."

You quelled the rising anger and heartbreak in your heart. In a trice, you twisted in your seat, facing James.

"What are your plans for tomorrow?"

He was taken aback by your sudden query. By the state of his full mouth and the bread crumbs around his lips, you figured out that he wasn't paying the slightest attention to you and Remus.

"Quidditch practice before breakfast?"

"In the evening, I mean."

"We're supposed to–"

"I wasn't talking to you, Remus."

Remus pursed his lips, cursing himself for not talking to James that morning. James's face crinkled in bafflement.

"I am supposed to finish my star chart with Sirius."

You nodded and glowered back at your best friend. James made a face at Remus behind your back as if asking what was going on.

"You don't take Astrology, Remus."

"I'll study with Lily tomorrow," he said, and you froze.

You were supposed to study together. You and Remus. Together. Like the way it had always been.

He wasn't supposed to study with the prettiest girl in the house. The graceful girl with a delicate smile and silky fire-kissed hair.

You didn't know when or how the familiar burn in your chest surged up, but you recognised what it was. You welcomed the acute sharpness of its thorns and the way it cut through your heart.

"Oi! Why didn't you tell me that? I could've finished the chart earlier and joined you!"

You tuned out James's protest. You wished you could tune out Remus mumbling to him, 'We decided in the potions.' too. But if there was one thing you could never turn a deaf ear to, it was Remus's voice; soft yet stern, melancholic yet hopeful. You wanted to tattoo the tune into your brain the way it was engraved into your heart.

You heard Remus call your name. You hated the way you loved your name from his lips. He had always chanted your name so gently, like an incantation, caressing your soul's most hidden-away parts.

"Yes?"

"I couldn't say no to Lily," he said apologetically.

"Yes, of course," you rose from your seat, offering Remus a smile you hoped covered the hurt behind your eyes. "I understand."

"Where you going?" he attempted to grab you by your wrist, but you were agile. You snatched your wrist away unobtrusively.

"I'm going to look for Sirius."

"Hiya, love," Sirius greeted you at the curtail step of the Grand Staircase. You had looked for him in the castle, but you stumbled on him when you finally gave up and decided to head to the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Where were you? I couldn't find you close to the end of the potions," you asked him, feeling a bit better now that you're out of Remus's company.

He shrugged, denying you the answer.

"You, too, Pads?" you stopped your steps, making Sirius do the same. He looked confused.

"I, too, what?"

"Somehow, I never get an answer to any of my questions these days, and it's bloody frustrating," you blurted out the grudge that had made home in you within a breath.

"Someone's getting ready to throw a strop," his mocking tone brought you to your senses. You pouted, sighing away the anger and resentment building up in your core.

"Don't sulk, love," he said as he dropped a hand on your shoulder, which impeded your movement on the stairs. "If it is any consolation, I have a problem with Snape."

"What problem?"

"You remember our last prank on him, right?" he smiled sheepishly. He continued when you nodded. "Right, so he may or may not have been trying to get back at me for it."

"So you two have been fighting like two little third-years for the last week?"

"Uh-huh," you rolled your eyes when he showed you his ridiculously white teeth. "I'm setting the ground for something big, but can't tell you, so don't ask."

"Fine."

"Your turn."

"It's silly," you cringed at the thought. Everything always made sense in your head until it was time to actually voice them.

"Good. Then we'll have a laugh. Come on, now," Sirius squeezed your arm as reassurance.

"Remus is a liar. Sometimes..." you purposely left out the once-in-a-month fact, "He stands me up, saying it's a Marauders thing-"

You held your hand up to interrupt Sirius, who was about to back up his friend.

"Don't. It is a lie. I know something is going on, and I have speculations, I'm not stupid, Sirius–"

"Never said you were."

"And it's okay, you know? We talked about it, and he told me he needed time, and I didn't argue. But now he tells me he isn't gonna study with me because he promised Lily, and I know it's an excuse because he couldn't use the 'Marauders thing' lie this time–"

"Don't forget to breathe."

"It's just...she's pretty and smart and–"

"In love with Prongs."

"You don't know that."

"No, but she will be, and you don't even need to worry about Evans. She's just a good friend of Moony."

You exhale heavily, begging for your endeavours to suppress the ache in your throat to work.

Yes, she was a good friend of Remus. But you're supposed to be his best friend.

Howbeit, more importantly, what was muddling you was the thought that Lily knew Remus's secret.

"I know, Pads. I just can't help it."

Sirius said the password to your common room and gave you the way first.

"You should talk to him, you know," he said as you threw yourself onto a sofa.

"And tell him that I'm ridiculously jealous because of his friendship with Evans, yeah?"

You smiled at Sirius's laugh. "I pity you, love."

You pitied yourself, too.

You grimaced when you felt the metallic taste of blood. Pulling your teeth from your lips, you pushed them together so the blood on them would dry.

You've been pacing around your dorm room, contemplating whether to get down to the library.

Part of you yearned for Remus's presence, while the other part wanted to avoid him forever, not ready to face and voice your thoughts to him. You knew he never left any quarrel unsolved, never letting you stay upset.

Ultimately, your love for him overwhelmed your resentment, and before you knew it, you grabbed your book and ambled down the stairs.

Your knuckles were white from clutching the book hard when you entered the empty library. The only thing you could think about was if Remus was going to be there.

And he was.

He raised his head from his book the moment you crossed his sight, brown eyes full of different emotions that you couldn't sort.

You chose to ignore how his leg was bouncing and how his hair was way messier than usual.

He softly smiled at you when you sat next to him. You smiled back.

You hoped maybe he would act like everything was alright and you wouldn't have to think about your feelings.

But you inhaled sharply when he didn't.

"We're fighting a lot these days," he said, looking at your fingers rather than your eyes. "I hate it when we fight."

"We didn't fight."

"It may not be a fight, but," he took your hands into his, "I know you're hurt."

When you kept silent, he took this as his cue to go on.

"I'm sorry, dove. I should've known it would hurt your feelings to stand up our evening studies."

"You know well that it is not the matter," you said, pulling your hands back. "Stop acting like you don't."

"I'm going to need you to be more specific."

Dozens of questions raced through your mind, but you only managed to ask the one tearing you apart with jealousy. You pushed to voice that screamed at you, saying 'you're being too blunt' back in its place.

"Does Lily know your secret?"

Remus sighed. He parted his lips and then pushed them back together. You fathomed that he was getting irritated from the twitch of his hand.

"I thought we agreed that you wouldn't bring this up again–"

"Does she?"

"She does."

"You told her."

"She figured it out herself," he arched his brow at you eloquently. You despised the meaning behind that expression. It mocked you, claiming that you were not as bright as another.

"Of course, she did," You turned your side to him and opened the cover of your book. Little did he know you had figured everything, too. Except, you waited for his confiding.

"Alright, that's it," Remus shut the cover back to regain your attention. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What?"

"Y/N, you've been picking fights for the last bloody month. And I try, I really, really try to be patient but I don't understand what your problem is."

Your face wrinkled in confusion. 

"Remus, what are you talking about? We were fine until this morning."

Remus held back for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Maybe. But we're having the exact bloody conversation every once a month, and it's getting on my nerves."

This was the last straw for you. Getting on his nerves? 

You had been patient with him since the day you became friends.

You had been understanding towards him every time he pushed you away when he was upset and pulled you back for support.

You had been gentle with him every time he snapped at you before full moons and every time he broke your heart after full moons.

And you had been loving him for the last five years, first as your friend, then as a boy, despite his flaws, blemishes and imperfections.

And now he couldn't even handle your resentment?

Anger climbed its way to your chest, burning down every wall you've ever built to keep your heart's secrets hidden away.

Words were scattered across your mind, ready for you to use them as your weapon against the pain havocing in your soul.

You couldn't keep anything in anymore.

"You know what's getting on my nerves, Remus? You being a liar–"

"I am a liar?"

"Yes. Yes, you fucking are. You have been lying to me for the last five years, and I've been bloody patient.

You think you're being patient? Well, try being best friends with yourself. Someone who lies to you, keeps secrets from you, but tells you you're his best friend, and then fucking repeats everything again."

"I asked you to give me time!"

"And I did! I've been understanding towards you and acted dumb every time you gave me nonsense excuses like you did today."

Remus shook his head. 

"You're being selfish."

"I am being selfish?" your eyes widened in disbelief. He truly had the gall to call you selfish after five years of his lies, excuses, and your espousing only for his sake.

"It's not always about you, you know. I just wanted to spend some time with Lily tomorrow, it's not an excuse."

You sniggered, awed by the way he could lie so easily.

"How come even Evans knows you better than me?!"

Remus clenched his jaw and rose up to his feet. You knew he was trying his best to keep himself collected, not to take out the anger on you, but you had had enough. You looked up to the veins popping up on his neck from your seat when he raised his voice.

"She figured everything out herself! It's not my fault that you can't do that!"

"So, now I have to try to solve you out by myself? That's not how friendships work, Remus! You're supposed to trust me-"

"No! I don't have to do anything! I've had fucking enough. I don't owe anyone anything, including you. Remus this, Remus that. Everyone has something they want from Remus. Everyone rubs their so-called favours and sacrifices into my face, always demanding something in return-"

"I've never even once harped on anything I did for you! I only wanted you to open up to me-"

"And the only thing I asked from you was patience! Fucking patience!" he dashed at you, grabbing you by the sides. "But here you are, bringing up the same bloody thing every month like a broken record! So yes, you are the most selfish girl I've ever met!"

His words cut through your heart like a sword, the same sword you had placed in his hand.

You looked at his dilated pupils and how they almost swallowed the gentleness of the brown you always loved.

You blinked the tears away that were threatening to invade your vision and swallowed the lump in your throat down.

Patience, he had said. Time, he had said. You were selfish, he had said.

An unfamiliar surge of acrimony washed you down, anger flaming in your chest. Its white flames swallowed your love for the boy whole, echoing his words from nothingness.

You pushed him away as hard as you could. He tottered a few steps back, eyes softening at your raged visage. In a blink, you were up from your seat and closed the distance between you two.

"You want patience? I have been patient when you let everyone in but me. I've been patient when you pushed me away in the second year after learning about your father. When you snapped at me for worrying about you. When you yelled at me because I wanted to touch the scar on your face." 

Remus parted his lips, but you held your hand to stop him from talking. With every sentence, your tone was soaring, the tears were prickling your eyes, and you had let go.

"Don't interrupt me! I'm not done. I gave you time when you got 'sick' every month and didn't let me see you or when you cried in my lap but refused to talk to me later. I gave you time when you didn't speak to me for days because you were angry and when you lied to me every month because you didn't trust me enough!

You want time and patience?!

I have given you my time and patience for the last five years and have been loving you for the past three, Remus! So don't you ever dare to call me selfish!"

You snapped your mouth shut, letting the wave of fury and relief wash over you. Remus's eyes changed into something new, something you had never learned about him.

 Only then did a stronger feeling hit you: dread.

You had confessed your love for him. 

His eyes were heavy with emotion, the crease between the brows still reminding you of his anger, while the benign brown lit up the hope inside your soul.

"You what?" a whisper left his mouth, so low that you wouldn't be able to hear it if it wasn't dead silence in the library.

You didn't repeat yourself. You didn't even reply to him. You simply turned away and dashed out of the library.

xxxxx

When you woke up the next morning, all you could think about was that it was a full moon today.

You didn't think it would be a good idea to see Remus today, but you were worried about him. You wished to know how he was, where he was, and how he would endure this night. Would he have new scars the following day? Or a headache? Did he love you back?

So many questions and not enough answers.

James and Sirius were in the Quidditch practice, probably Remus and Peter as an audience. You had decided not to join them this time, trying to drown the chaos in your mind with homework instead. Or maybe you were too embarrassed to acknowledge Remus. 

Anyhow, one can only tolerate writing an essay to one point.

You slapped your book shut, groaning to yourself when you relived your last memory with Remus. Yesterday was the reason why you hated being angry; you would either cry or lose control of your mouth. And since you had bone both of them in one evening, you were planning on rotting in your room. However, your short span of attention was not helping. With every sentence you managed to put together, Remus's brown eyes would pop up in your mind. 

You glanced at the weather; grey clouds and chilly wind. Who would even want to be outside in this weather?

James (and maybe you).

You shook your head and decided that maybe rotting yourself until everyone would forget about your existence was not a good plan, as it was getting boring. Checking the time, you smiled because the Quidditch practice should be finished by now. Thus, you got up and left your dorm room. If only you could make it out of the common room without being seen by Remus. 

Sauntering down the stairs, you slowed your steps. Before revealing yourself, you checked the common room and saw James and Peter laughing. No Remus or Sirius. You wondered if Remus told them about your love confession. You hoped not.

Stopping into the room, you made your way to them, putting on a genuine smile. You tried to suppress the anxiety rising in your throat and reminded yourself that these boys were your friends.

"Look who's here," James narrowed his eyes at you. "The traitor."

"I missed only one practice, James."

"He and Sirius are way more dramatic today. James almost asked Evans to marry him this morning."

"Seems like a normal morning, Pete," you said, even though you couldn't help but chuckle. "Where's Sirius, though?"

"He went to see his brother. Said he'll be back in ten minutes or something."

You hummed at James, pushing your lips together.

"And Remus?"

"With Evans, I wager."

The familiar burn in your chest resurfaced. 

"I'll go find Sirius. See you guys later."

"You have a death wish, I see?"

You jumped at Sirius's voice. As opposed to what you said to James and Peter, you didn't go looking for Sirius. Instead, you were strolling around the castle yard. You liked how the frigid air sent shivers down your spine, it was refreshing. And you, without a doubt, needed refreshment.

"How'd you know?"

"You're walking around in nothing but your sweater?"

You smiled and shrugged, waiting for him to catch up to you. When he did, he removed his black leather and placed it on your shoulders. You caught the burn on his hand.

"What happened to your hand?"

Sirius glanced at his hand shortly and yanked it back into the pocket of his trousers.

"Ah. Nothing. Snape and I had a little duel just now."

"Sirius, this is getting out of hand. You need to stop."

"Yeah, don't worry. It's going to end tonight."

Your heart dropped. 

"What do you mean?"

He burst into laughter, worrying you more. 

"I'm going to scare the hell out of that prick, he'll never dare touch me again."

You attempted a smile, though you weren't sure it came out smooth.

"What do you mean?"

Sirius turned to you, patting your arm with his fist. "Don't worry about it. Tell me what made you take a walk in such weather."

Now you were both worried and uncomfortable. Embarrassment was burning your ears up, making you wish that the ground would split in two and swallow you whole. However, you decided to bury the worries and awkwardness. You deserved someone listening to you, after all, so you shared everything with him.

After a few gasps and woahs, you quietened while Sirius was contemplating what to say and how to say it.

"You haven't seen him since?"

You shook your head no.

"Well, he was grumpy this morning, but I don't think it's related to you."

Yet, you were certain that it was related to you. 

He was grumpy because he was angry at you. He was grumpy because he didn't return your feelings, and you made him uncomfortable by confessing them. He was grumpy because you just shattered your friendship. Or maybe he was grumpy because it was a full moon.

"I think he hates me now."

Sirius snorted at your declaration. "You're one hell of an overthinker, aren't you?"

When you didn't reply, he pushed you with his side softly, "Hey, come on, it's Moony we're talking about. He can never hate you."

"You can't possibly know that."

"Yes, I can. Remember in the third grade how he literally hated all of us for burning his paper?"

"I mean, he wasn't exactly wrong. We did destroy two weeks' work."

"Exactly. He rained hell upon us for a month. Well, most of us. He didn't touch you, and whenever we would ask him why, he would hit us before saying, 'It would hurt her feelings'."

You smiled at the thought of thirteen years old Remus coddling you.

"I didn't know that."

"You don't know why James changed his wand last year in the middle of the semester, either."

"I thought he broke it."

"Nah, Moony broke it."

Your eyebrows shot up in bewilderment, amusing Sirius. He nodded before resuming to talk.

 "James had a brilliant idea to cast a spell on you that would twist your tongue every time you talked. Remus wanted to waver him from it, but he was stubborn, that bastard. So before he could cast the spell, Remus broke his wand in our dorm and made it look like an accident to James."

Your smile grew wider, your eyes tearing up from intense emotions. Remus always knew about your anxiety, and he had always cared enough to help you through it. Whenever you would fidget with your fingers because you were about to give a big speech, he would put his hand on yours to calm them down. Whenever you would sweat because the professor was criticising you in front of the whole class, he would touch his knee to yours to let you know he was there. Whenever someone would make fun of you, he would be the first one to stand up for you.

"I didn't know he had it in him."

"Oh, he has a lot more in him when you are the matter," Sirius side-hugged you, letting you lean in. "You can ask him if you want."

You frowned, about to ask him what he meant but stopped in your tracks when your eyes sorted Remus from the other side of the yard. He was with Lily. Before you could ask Sirius to return to the castle, he yelled from the top of his lungs to make himself heard.

"Oi! Moony!"

"What are you doing?!" you whisper-shouted at Sirius, who was dragging you to Remus's side. 

"You can't avoid him forever."

As you got closer and closer to his side, your heart picked up the pace. You didn't feel ready to talk to him today. You were sure you wouldn't be ready tomorrow either.

Lily waved at you two when you made it to their side. You noticed the bags under Remus's eyes and his bouncing leg. You refused to lock your gaze, focusing on Lily's glorious smile. Still, you could feel his burning gaze piercing your heart.

You had tuned out their talking, alerting your mind only to Remus's presence. You didn't hear Lily's giggle or Sirius's mocking tone; you didn't even care what they were talking about.

You only cared that Remus was bouncing his leg, snapping his fingers and rubbing his temple.

You longed to put your hand on his leg to calm it down, hold his hand so that he would stop hurting them, and kiss his temple so maybe it would tender the ache.

Your heart was burning up in your chest, clenching in agony. The agony of being so close and yet so far away from him.

Every tune around you was muffled, slave to even a whisper from Remus, but he wasn't making a single sound.

You had lost count of how many heartbeats were beating in your chest, wasting time by beating away from Remus's heart.

Suddenly, they stopped.

"I have to go," said Remus.

His hoarse tone shattered everything into nothing.

He got up from Lily's side and walked back into the castle. You didn't follow him.

You missed his voice.

The weather was dark and still cold. You clung to Sirius's jacket more tightly. He hadn't asked for it back and said he would take it from you tomorrow.

You should return to the common room; it was neither safe nor clever to wander around at night. And you did. You turned around and started striding to the castle, only to flinch when you saw a figure exiting it.

It was hard for you to distinguish the person, so you followed him. You waited for the light of the full moon to reveal the silhouette's identity to you. You bit down your lip when you saw Severus Snape sauntering towards the Whomping Willow.

He must've lost his mind.

Your heart fastened with Severus's every step, dread of what was about to come sending tremors down your body. Your fingers itched in anticipation.

You hid behind a bush and watched him with terror. It was dark at night. It was a full moon. You were near the Whomping Willow.

Why did you even follow Snape?

When he finally crossed the safe proximity, the tree started moving. Your hand covered your mouth, your eyes unable to blink.

You waited for the tree to frantically shake and sway its branches. You waited for it to injure Severus or maybe even kill him.

But it didn't.

The moment it started to move an inch, it stopped. You thought maybe Snape had cast a spell; you could only see his back.

He slowly approached the tree, disappearing into a hole under it.

You rose to your feet and took a few steps towards the tree. You felt uncomfortably vulnerable at that moment, standing out in the open where you could get attacked by every side and wouldn't even be able to prevent it.

What if the tree starts moving when you're near?

Where did Snape go?

Should you even be here?

If there was only one question you knew the answer to, it was the last one.

You wanted to return to the castle and forget about all this in the morning. You truly did. However, you figured that there was no turning back when you heard a howl and a scream coming from the hole.

You jumped back with fear, oblivious to the yelp that left you.

Your first instinct was to run. Run away as fast as you could, without looking back, but something deep in your conscience didn't let you flee.

What if Snape was alone out there, and he needed help?

What if he was injured?

You cursed under your breath and took one more step towards the tree.

Your heart was pounding in your ear, competing with the sound of the howl down on the ground. You convinced yourself that it was the fear that made the howling sound closer than before.

One, two, three.

You exhaled sharply and started running to the hole.

You prayed that the tree wouldn't move.

Your legs made a stop before you could fathom what was happening.

More than one figure emerged from the ground, but your eyes only saw the big, ugly beast. Moonlight was glistening through its thick grey fur, displaying a horrendous sight. The tawny glow in its eyes was impossible to miss, as well as its tall and scrawny bone structure. The snarls from the beast were threatening to change into something more dangerous. 

Snape was screaming. You could swear you heard James, your name or maybe your own scream too.

However, your eyes never left the beast.

You had seen it in the pictures. You knew what it was.

A werewolf.

Remus.

And it was planning to attack Severus.

Your Remus.

You took out your wand, not even once looking away from the beast. Your mind was chasing every charm you've ever chanted, looking for the best one for the situation. 

The beast pounced on Snape with a growl.

Snape slumped into the ground. 

The beast towered over him, ready to attack. 

You aimed your wand at it, screaming the first thing that came to mind. 

"Petrificus Totalus!"

You had diverted the beast's attention, presenting an opportunity for James to save Snape.

"No, Y/N!" 

When James's cry tore your mind from the shock, you understood that you had made a mistake. 

Spells don't work on werewolves.

A gasp left your mouth when the werewolf directed its attention from Severus to you. You didn't see Snape fleeing or James carefully walking to you. All you could see was the icy light in its eyes glaring at you, sending sheer panic down your spine.

You hesitated to make any more sound, no matter how much you wanted to yell James's name for help. 

You didn't know how to fight werewolves, no one had ever taught you that. You didn't want to die, either.

The growl from the beast intensified, sending you enough signals that the inevitable was close. With your every step back, it was taking a step forward. 

No, no, no, no, no, no.

"Y/N RUN!

And you did. 

You ran until your lungs gave out, your legs crippled, and your heart burst.

You ran until your eyes watered from the chilly air, your nose hurt from the sharp breaths, and your ears echoed the beast's growls.

A branch cut just above your cheek, but you didn't stop.

 You ran until you lost control of your mind, giving it up to your body, performing purely under adrenalin.

But the beast ran with you, too. It followed you into the forest, howling and growling, letting you know death was close. Letting you know that the screams drowning in the night were in vain. Letting you know that the tears staining your face were in vain.

Your breaths mingled with your screams, your hair getting into your mouth. Sweat and tears melded into each other, burning up the cut on your face.

Before you could understand what had happened, your body hit the cold ground with a thud. Your eyes clenched shut, taking in pain vibrating through you. You felt the soil staining your face and body. Your weeping turned into a shriek when you felt yourself yanked into the dirt on your stomach.

Your eyes widened with fear when you finally fathomed the claw grabbing your ankle. It dragged you back, hoping to get the claws on your throat, too. Your fingers dug into the earth. You fought to free yourself from the beast. The jagged stones on the ground gashed your forearm. The dirt stung the gash. Your blood glistened under the moonlight. The beast howled. It turned you on your back.

Remus, Remus, Remus.

One last cry left you. The beast raised its claws, towering over you.

Remus.

You closed your eyes. The tears didn't stop.

Moony.

A high-pitched whine soared in the sky. You were sure it didn't come from you. Something hit your hip. You opened your eyes. 

A stag. 

A stag stroke the beast with its horns in the underbelly, tossing it away from you. The stag jumped over you, attacking the werewolf again. Animalistic voices ascended in the middle of the Forbidden Forest.

You crawled behind a large rock and took deep breaths. You knew you had to run. This was your opportunity to flee for your life, but you had exhausted your body. You needed time to recover.

The growls and whines never stopped. They got louder and quieter. Closer and farther. You didn't know.

You raised your head. The Moon was gleaming, casting light your way as if telling you to get going. You couldn't. Not now.

You lowered your head at your hands. They were filthy with dirt, the soil blackening the insides of your nails.Y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶f̶i̶n̶g̶e̶r̶s̶ ̶d̶u̶g̶ ̶i̶n̶t̶o̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶e̶a̶r̶t̶h̶. You moved your left arm, checking the backside of your forearm. T̶h̶e̶ ̶j̶a̶g̶g̶e̶d̶ ̶s̶t̶o̶n̶e̶s̶ ̶o̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶g̶r̶o̶u̶n̶d̶ ̶g̶a̶s̶h̶e̶d̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶e̶a̶r̶m̶. You winced at the scar and the fresh blood around it. Y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶b̶l̶o̶o̶d̶ ̶g̶l̶i̶s̶t̶e̶n̶e̶d̶ ̶u̶n̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶m̶o̶o̶n̶l̶i̶g̶h̶t̶.̶

Without warning, a sob left put your mouth, startling you. You pressed your uninjured hand on your lips, listening around. The voices had stopped. Neither the stag nor the beast was there. You were safe.

Your hands didn't leave your mouth, so terrified that if they did, you would make a noise and lure in the beast again. You knew your body was reacting to the shock and exhaustion, but you despised the tears flooding from your eyes. You needed to get it together and leave the Dark Forest. Albeit the beast was gone, the forest was still dangerous. 

You stood up with a groan, not lowering your wand for protection. Your clothes were spoiled, and you were hurting. You looked around to find a familiar way back to the castle.

"Y/N!"

You aimed your wand at the voice, your heart retaking the pace. The voice was familiar, but you were not in the right mind to identify it.

"It's me, hey. Lower your wand," James's gentle voice weakened your muscles, your hand shaking and breath hitching. Relief surged you from head to toe.

You didn't remember when you dropped your wand into the ground and threw yourself into James's warm embrace. You only remembered how he soothed you as you sobbed with exhaustion.

"You alright?" he put a hand on your shoulder and the other on your wrist to check you out after you pulled away from the hug. You nodded, feeling his gaze on your injured arm.

"Where were you?" You didn't recognise your own tone, rasp and brittle.

"Here. With you."

Something hit you in the gut. A realisation twinkled in your mind, finally comprehending the depth of 'Prongs'.

"You were the stag."

He smiled at you. "I knew you were a bright witch."

James Potter being an animagi wasn't the first priority for you tonight. 

"What happened to..." you couldn't let out the rest of the sentence. The beast. R̶e̶m̶u̶s̶

"I led it back to the Whomping Willow."

The next moments passed with silence, you two walking together to the castle and James subtly keeping his hand behind your back to make sure you were fine. You relived everything from the beginning, this time making sense of the incidents. You had so many questions and even more feelings gushing in you.

"I don't understand, James."

"Hmh?"

"Why was Snape there? Where were Sirius and Peter?"

You heard James clear his throat. His tone changed from gentle to furious in a moment.

"Sirius told Snape how to get into the Whomping Willow. That bastard thought it would be a good prank. He told me later because he had started to second-guess himself," he retorded, "Peter was also there, you just didn't see him. I sent him to make sure Severus gets into the castle safely."

No. 

You shook your head, not believing your ears. This couldn't be what Sirius meant by handling the Snape problem. You didn't want to believe it. Not because you were thinking too highly of Sirius but because you imagined how devastated Remus would be the next morning. You knew how much he trusted his friends.

"Remus..." you muttered under your breath, earning a hum from James that signalled him thinking the same thing. 

"Sirius will be in big trouble. I'm sure Snape had already run to Dumbledore."

You turned to James with widened eyes, he talked before you could panic. 

"Don't worry. He didn't see me as the stag or see Peter at all. That's why I was belated. I'm sorry I couldn't make it there sooner."

"Thank you for even making it there," you whispered, closing your eyes when the castle entered your sight. You avoided thinking about the possibility that James might not make it in time. What would happen then was something tragedic you never wanted to admit. "Will you see Remus tomorrow morning?"

James looked at you with such intense emotion that you thought he was pitying you.

"I will but–"

"I want to be there with you."

"No, Y/N, listen," he scratched his chin. You stared at him in question.

"I will have to explain everything to Remus tomorrow. And by that," he said, "I mean everything."

"James, I want to–"

"No. I don't want you to be there when I tell him how he almost killed you. I'm sure he wouldn't want you to be there either."

"But it's not his fault–"

"That's not what he's going to think in the morning. I'll talk to him alone. Don't insist."

This was the most serious you had ever seen James Potter. Thus, you knew he wasn't going to back down. So, you didn't insist.

By the time you were in the common room, your body had calmed down, now only exhibiting exhaustion symptoms. James hugged you one more time before sending you to your dorm room.

"Shower with warm water and go to bed. I'll be in the common room if you can't sleep."

You wanted to ask him why he didn't go to sleep, but you couldn't even part your lips. So you simply offered him a weak smile and headed straight to the bathroom. The girls in your room were already asleep, meaning you had to be extra careful not to wake them up.

You scoffed at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Frantic hair, shrunk pupils, a cut on your cheek and dirt on your face. As if all these weren't enough, the gash on your arm was throbbing with pain, blood staining your sweater and maybe even Sirius's jacket too.

You stepped into the shower and let the warm water clean you thoroughly. You clenched your teeth to suppress the groan you wanted to let out of pain from your cuts. The black dirt left you as the water stroke down your body, helping you get this night out of your skin.

Your eyes were glued to the dirt getting washed away, harking back to how the beast hauled you onto the ground. Your skin still remembered the burn from the rough friction.

You couldn't close your eyes, you couldn't even blink. Every time you did, a pair of two glistening yellow eyes would stare at you, threatening to hunt you down if you kept your eyes closed a second more. If you thought about the beast a little bit more, you were sure you would have a panic attack.

So you let your mind wander around something else.

Brown locks, chocolate eyes and pink lips. 

Your lips curved when you recalled his soft voice, the way he called you dove. You warmed up, and not because of the water but because of the memory of how Remus gently stroked your hair. How he wiped away your tears. How he braided your hair perfectly after begging Peter to teach him. How he had always given you something hand-made on your birthdays because he couldn't buy anything.

You missed him. You missed the gentle smile he was always offering you. You missed your tender bickering and his teasing innuendoes.

You had missed your best friend, and no matter what would happen tomorrow, you were going to talk to him.

You couldn't sleep well that night. You even had a nightmare about what happened.

James was late in the dream; you died in the end.

So you stayed up all night, only being able to dive into sleep when the air was lightening up, turning into sapphire blue. At the same time of the day, Remus was turning back to his human self. You would chuckle at the irony if you weren't sleep deprived.

When you woke up, your heart was hammering in your chest. Your roommate was beside you, a glass of water in her hand. You felt sweat drops in your neck and temple; you must be having another nightmare, then.

She offered you the glass, which you gladly accepted. 

"Thank you," you said rather hoarsely. 

"It's almost five in the afternoon, hun."

You sat up in your bed, brushing your hair back with your hands. You had a terrible headache.

"It is?"

"Aye. You sure you're alright?"

"Yes, Lizzie, thank you," you smiled at her before leaving the bad. You were both grateful and uneasy that you had missed the most part of the day. This meant that Remus had already learned about the prank.

You eyed yourself in the bathroom mirror. You looked way better than yesterday night, undoubtedly. Your face had gained its colour back, and your frenzied eyes were glistening with something other than horror. The only flaws were the small cut on your face and the new eyebags.

You got ready and went down to the common room. Because it was Sunday today, the common room was crowded with students. 

Your eyes searched any of the Marauders but failed. They weren't here, and you were hungry. You made your way to the Great Hall, accompanied by nice growls from your stomach. Fortunately for you, it was dinner time.

You were too focused on the food before to find yourself a seat, so you didn't notice anyone approaching you. You flinched when a kind hand touched your arm.

"Y/N?"

"Oh, hiya Lily."

The red-haired girl smiled at you with emerald eyes. She pointed to a corner around the table with her finger. "Potter asked me to call you."

Your eyes found James, who looked as tired as you but still managed to put on a simpering smile. "Cheers," you said to Lily.

You sat next to him, stuffing your plate. Your stomach growled harder at sight.

"How are you feeling?" James asked, watching you nibble on a toast.

"Have been worse. You?"

"Have been worse."

You knew what you had to ask him, but you also knew you needed your appetite at the moment, or you would starve yourself. So you simply hummed and hastened to finish your meal.

You tried not to think about the two empty seats as you sipped your drink. James and Peter were having small talk, trying to lighten the mood. You didn't listen to that either.

You swallowed your last piece as slowly as possible, delaying the inevitable. James looked at you briefly, and you understood what it meant. He raised from his seat, having you follow him.

When you two found an abandoned corner, you turned to him, tuning out the racing of your heart.

"You didn't sleep, did you?" he pointed under your eyes with a nod of his head. You shook your head. 

"Did you talk to him?"

Unfamiliar gloom darkened James's features. "I did. Told him everything."

He glanced at you before averting his eyes away again. "He just listened. Thanked me in the end and said he wanted to be left alone."

Your heart clenched in pain. You didn't want him to be left alone. "Where is he?"

"Dunno. Didn't look for him."

"Where's Sirius?"

James stayed silent for a few seconds. "Dunno, either. We had a fight, but my guess is somewhere in the forest in his animagi form."

You didn't dwell on it any further. You loved Sirius, but you loved Remus more than anyone. Albeit you weren't furious at him, you still didn't plan on seeing him any sooner. 

"I need to talk to Remus, James."

"I truly don't know where he is."

You had to find him. You had to find him and tell him that it wasn't his fault. 

You nodded at James, mumbling a quick bye before wandering around the castle, trying to figure out where he could be.

He wouldn't go to the library. It would be an easy guess for anyone trying to find him.

James said Sirius would be outside of the castle. You were sure Remus wouldn't risk encountering him.

That left you two or three places that you knew Remus would run whenever he wanted to avoid people. So you got going.

You didn't find him at Room of Requirement or Hospital Tower. You cursed the school for being this large in area. It took you almost an hour to get from one side of the castle to another. Fortunately, you were sure Remus was on the Astronomy Tower.

As you got closer and closer to the tower, anticipation chased your heartbeats high, your hands fidgeting with their fingers. You took a moment to regulate your breathing, which had no effect on your pacing heart.

Without wasting one more moment, you entered the tower.

There he was, sitting on the ground, his head low between his hands. Around him was cold and dark, gleaming with the light from the Moon and stars. Your heart ached at the sight of him. You stepped forward, letting the sound of your footsteps alert him. He didn't acknowledge you, but you were sure he had heard you. Heartbreak burned through you, maiming you because of the distance between you two.

Your steps stopped next to him. He still hadn't looked up to you but hadn't asked you to go away either. So you sat next to him, raising your head to gaze at the stars while his head was low between his hands.

"The stars are beautiful, Remus."

He didn't budge. He didn't even move. You peeked at his chocolate-brown hair, suppressing the urge to mess with them.

"Your hair looks nice today."

Silence. You didn't know if he was ignoring you or simply ignoring everyone, and it wasn't something about you.

"Doesn't your neck hurt?"

"No."

You gulped when his voice echoed in the air. 

"It must hurt if you've been keeping it like that for a long time."

"It doesn't."

"Liar."

Silence again. You yearned for his voice once more.

"You can put your head on my shoulder, Remus."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Go away, dove."

His voice was fragile and pleading. It broke your heart, shattered it into million little pieces. A lump made its way to your throat. 

"Why?" you asked, a voice as broken as your heart. "I don't want to go away."

"But I want you to," he loosened his fingers from his hair, dropping them to his lap.

You turned to him. "Don't push me away, Remus."

You reached for his hand, but he gently pulled them away. "Remus, please."

He shook his head, still not looking at you. 

"I need to know why you don't want me here."

He left your side, ambling to the parapet of the tower and leaning to it. You stared at his back in disbelief.

"Remus-"

"Go away, Y/N."

"You won't even look at my face when you kick me out."

Finally, he snapped his head and locked eyes with you. His eyes looked tired, blazing into yours. He had a new scar under his lower lip, from James's horns, probably.

"Go away."

You stood up, frowning in annoyance. "No, I'm not going anywhere," you took stern steps in his direction and closed the disturbing distance. "We need to talk, Remus."

You adored his amber eyes despite your annoyance. You loved to dive into its depth and get lost, sorting out every colour one by one.

He stayed where he was, but you detected his eyes lowering from your eyes. He stared at the cut above your cheek, clenching his jaw.

You unconsciously turned away and hid it from Remus. Memories flooded in a blink and raised the panic inside you. You could still feel the wind hitting your face and the sting from the branch that cut your skin as you fled for your life from the beast.

"It's nothing," you uttered.

Remus scoffed at your face. You saw his eyes change into something harsh and his brows furrow.

"Yeah, sure. The cut in your arm is also nothing."

You didn't ask how he knew that. After all, James did tell you that he would let Remus know everything.

"It'll heal."

"And why is it there in the first place?"

Remus took a step forward when you didn't answer.

What were you supposed to say? Because his wolf form chased you down, and you got injured trying to flee?

"I'll tell you why," he said, voice raised. "Because I hunted you down, tossed you to the ground, and yanked you around. I only did it so I could kill you."

"No–"

"Is that what you wanted to talk about? How I'm a bloodthirsty monster whose first instinct is to kill?"

"You weren't yourself."

"What would happen if James wasn't there?"

You pushed your lips together and closed your eyes. This was the last thing you wanted to talk about.

"No, open your eyes," he raised your head by your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye. "Tell me what would've happened if James wasn't there."

You blinked away the tears that were threatening to invade your vision. Remus made you relive the same nightmare you had that night over and over again.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I need you to understand! I need you to understand that I'm not someone you can fucking love!"

You startled in your place, both by his anger and claim. Something had burst into flames inside you now that he had finally acknowledged your feelings.

You opened your mouth to quarrel, to tell him he's wrong, and that you loved him more than anyone or anything in the world. But he didn't let you interrupt him.

"You think I haven't thought about what you said in the last two days? You haven't left my mind for even a bloody second!" his tone was raised but broken.

"You were the one pushing me away!"

"Because I wanted to keep you away from all this shit! I wanted you to see me as something other than a cursed boy. Why do you think I never shared that secret with you?!"

"That secret is part of your story, Remus. If you thought that I wouldn't love you with it, you must've been out of your mind."

You didn't think he understood the depth of your love for him, and you needed him to understand. It didn't even matter if your feelings were not returned.

He shook his head no.

"No one, Y/N, no one loves a monster like me."

"I do," you pleaded.

Words weren't enough to convince him or express your love for him, but you were trying.

He took your arm in his hand and pulled the left sleeve of your sweater up, revealing the gash. You tried to pull your arm back, but he overpowered you, tightening the hold on your arm. You grimaced when his fingers pushed on the scar.

"This is what happens when you love someone like me."

You used your whole strength and tugged your arm back. You marvelled at your tone when you spoke.

"Stop it! You weren't yourself, Remus!"

"How does that even change anything?!" he screamed, his voice breaking and his eyes tearing up. "Don't you understand? I am a danger to you!

"Remus–"

"You think this is easy for me?! I have fucking lost my mind these last two days because you were the only one in it! My brain wouldn't think of any name other than yours! My heart wouldn't beat for any name other than yours! And when I am finally ready to tell you that I love you, too, James comes and tells me that I almost fucking killed you!"

His eyes were blood red, and the veins in his neck had popped up. Tears left his red eyes and paved the way down from his jawline to his neck.

Remus was crying.

It was a sight you had never got used in the last five years.

Your mind refused to work, denying to comprehend the words that left his mouth. It was all too much, and all in one moment.

"You love me, too?'

You didn't recognise your own voice, probably because all you could hear was Remus's confession. You expected your heart to race this time also, but instead, it was dead silent. Or maybe you were just too focused on Remus's eyes.

His tears never stopped, and he never tried to stop them.

He was breaking down at last.

You walked up to him and closed whatever distance was left. You looked up into his eyes as he lowered them to you.

"But you didn't kill me," you whispered, bringing your hand to his cheek. He closed his eyes, raining more tears on your hand. You gently wiped them away.

"I'm here, Remus. I'm here, and I'm telling you that I love you. I don't love you despite your curse, I love you with it."

Remus scrunched up his face, letting out a sob before sinking his head down your shoulder. You felt his tears on your neck.

At that moment, you knew no words would ever soothe the storm in his heart.

So you held him as he bawled like a child.

His crying sent daggers to your heart, ripping it open.

You begged for his pain to become yours so that he would never hurt the way he was hurting now.

You didn't know how many minutes past. All you knew was Remus's sobs and whimpers hurt you like nothing else ever did.

You didn't let go when the heavy sobs turned into heavy sighs or when the tear-fall in your neck turned into warm breaths.

You caressed his hair and kissed his neck when he calmed down. When he talked, it was gritty and low.

"I'm a monster, dove. A monster that will tear you to pieces if you get near."

"I love you," you whispered. You felt him let a short, breathy scoff to the crook of your neck.

"I attacked Snape last night like a beast."

"I love you."

"I almost killed you."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

You shut your eyes, breaking your face into a tiny smile. Four words, one sentence, and his lips close to your neck was all you needed for revival.

Remus inched away from your neck, lingering his lips next to your wound. The red in his eyes hadn't worn off, but the brown of his eyes was blazing with affection.

You drew a sharp breath when he kissed above your cheek.

He caressed the nick lengthwise with tender pecks. His hand grazed your other cheek while the other one made its way to your waist.

You held your breath when he lowered his lips, hovering them above your lips. His hot breath tingled your face, you fought the urge to close your eyes.

He whispered your name, and that's when you gave in. You closed your eyes and unknowingly parted your lips.

One second lasted one year. 

Something flamed up down in your chest when you felt Remus's soft lips on yours. He kissed your lips gentle and soft, but short. Pulling back, he stared into your eyes, chestnut brown darkening with every second.

"I love you," he whispered.

Within a blink, his lips crashed into your lips again, this time more intense, more passionate, taking away the air in your lungs. You melted to his touch, letting his lips savour yours while his hand on your waist tugged you closer. Your breaths mingled together, leaving your heart fluttering in your ribcage.

If time had stopped and trapped you at this moment, you wouldn't complain.

You craved his scent on your soul, his touch on your body and his lips on your lips. But most importantly, you were more than glad to be buried in his love.

He pulled away and smiled at the way you filled your lung with air. You felt his thumb caress your face.

"There's no getting rid of me, now, dove." 

His smile was tired, his eyes still carrying the heartbreak of yesterday. You knew he was still a broken boy inside, but you loved him anyway.

Thank you for reading. Let me know what you think!

if you enjoyed my writing and this fic, please, buy me a cofee <33

[genshinluvr]

A Guide on How to Study

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You have been studying for three final exams that are looming over you. You stayed up countless nights to study, but you're not retaining any information in your notes and study guides. Luckily for you, your twenty-five boyfriends have the perfect guide on how to study for your final exams.

Note: This is a mini-fic for my university students who have finals coming up! I have finals coming up in three days, and your girl hasn't studied the fifty-plus terms for Greek and Latin 💀 I'm hoping this is a motivation for all of you to do well on your exams and this as a way for me to force myself to study because I really do need to study 🥲Since it's finals week for me, I will be posting mini-fics for Genshin and HSR for this week. I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.4k

You sit at the table in the library, staring at your study guides sprawled before you. You have four final exams to study for, and here you are, staring at the papers and not retaining the information you need to remember before the impending day. You have stayed up countless nights trying to get yourself to process the given information by your professors at the Akademiya, yet you’re not able to retain any information.

“I’m fucked,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands.

“Still studying for your upcoming final exams?” a familiar voice asks.

You peek over your shoulders to see Venti peering down at you with the other men standing at his side. You sigh, resting your head on the table, and nod. Unfortunately, you are still studying for the final exams. 

The same exams the professors have been encouraging your class to study since the beginning of the quarter. Did you do that? Kind of, but as time went by, you lost the motivation of having to study constantly. It started off just fine, but you gave up halfway into the quarter and put it off. You’re starting to question why you chose to enroll to be a student at the Akademiya. That’s one of your biggest regrets since being thrown into your boyfriends’ world.

Poke.

You’re brought out of your thoughts when someone pokes you in the cheek. You blink and look at the person from your peripheral vision to see Itto standing close to you. You groan and lean in your seat, sighing once again while stretching back.

Itto clears his throat. “Onikabuto booboo bear, you look exhausted. Have you been taking breaks in between your studies like how we told you to?” Itto asks as he pulls out a chair from under the table and sits beside you.

You stare at Itto, shrugging your shoulders. “Kind of, but I decided to cut my breaks short because whenever I take breaks, they’re longer than it’s supposed to be,” you reply.

Al Haitham raises his eyebrows at you. “What do you mean? Are you implying that instead of taking fifteen-minute breaks in between your studies, you would extend it?” 

You smile at Al Haitham, rubbing the back of your neck before slowly turning to your study guides in front of you. Now is a time to study and act like you weren’t procrastinating not long ago. You grab your papers and flip to the ones you haven’t gotten to yet, and begin skimming through them. Maybe that’s why you’re not retaining information. You’re skimming through them and not actually trying to take time to process the definitions and equations. 

Tighnari sighs, rubbing his temples. “Oh, [Y/N]. You’re setting yourself up for failure if all you’re doing is skimming through your notes. Did you know that berries are good for your memories? I recommend snacking on them as you study,” says Tighnari, reaching for your notes.

You bury your face into your hands and close your eyes. You know they all mean well, but you feel like a child being scolded for not doing well on a test that hasn’t even happened yet. You lean on the table, pressing your forehead on the cold wooden desk, closing your eyes. Dear Archons, you’re tempted to go to give up and accept your fate at this point. You can study in the morning, right? A ceramic plate is placed beside your head, grabbing your attention. You look at the plate to see sliced fruits. 

Zhongli pats your head. “Make sure not to starve yourself as you’re studying. Even if you say you’re not hungry, it’s good to have a snack or two while you study,” Zhongli says, smiling at you.

The only beacon of light during the hard times that is your studies is the men bringing sliced fruit to you while you study. It’s a small gesture, but it means a lot to you. They’re always checking up on you to make sure you’re doing well. While they care about your future in the Akademiya, they care more about your mental and emotional well-being. Heizou and Aether sit across from you.

“If you’re not able to study anymore, maybe it’s a sign to call it a day and continue tomorrow!” Aether suggests, reaching across the table and squeezing your hand.

Heizou nods. “You have time to study for your final exams! If you continue to push yourself, you’ll burn out and lose the motivation to study,” Heizou interjects.

You give Heizou and Aether a strained smile. You grab a sliced fruit and begin nibbling on it. How are they going to react when you tell them how many days you have left in your studies before the impending day? 

Cyno leans over to look at your face, narrowing his eyes while you stare at him with wide eyes. Cyno sighs and leans on the table, shaking his head with disapproval. Did Cyno see through you? This man can read you like a book. He has you figured out, like how he has TCG figured out.

“Sweetheart, when is your exam?” Cyno asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

You clear your throat. “It’s on Friday! The exam is being hosted in the lecture hall at 9 PM and—”

Kaveh looks at you with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, NINE? At night?!” Kaveh interrupts, propping his hands on his hips.

You nod. “Yeah, it’s at night. The exam is almost two hours,” you reply. “I think….”

You pull your calendar out from your backpack and flip to the month. Your brain is all over the place, and you’re in desperate need of sleep. As previously stated, you stayed up countless nights to study, and you can’t remember when was the last time you had a proper sleep. Thoma looks over your shoulders, scanning the calendar you keep in your backpack with you at all times. 

“Oh! Okay, so you made a mistake there. The exam you were talking about, that’s at 9 PM, is your last exam for finals week. You have other exams before that. The first exam starts at 6 PM,” says Thoma, pointing at the scribbled words on the calendar. 

You stare at the calendar and close it, laying it on the table before lightly banging your head on the table. Oh, you’re definitely screwed. After a few minutes, you stop banging your head on the table and sigh loudly.

“Snookums, we can help you study if you’d like! We can go through the notes together a few times, and after that, we can start quizzing you on the materials in your notes and study guides!” Childe suggests, pulling your seat out from under the table and turning you around to face him and the others.

You hum and chew on the inside of your cheek, contemplating if it’s a good idea to have the men help you with your studies. Some of them are going to get bored and distracted, and you don’t blame them since that’s been you for the last few days now. Aside from that, it’ll be good to have someone help you with your studies because someone will be quizzing you on your knowledge of the subject instead of it being you skimming through it and not retaining any information. 

“Alright, I’ll take up on your offer.”

Diluc had you move to another area of the library in the estate. According to your other boyfriends, a change in scenery is good since you’ve been sitting at the same table for hours and would go to the same spot every time you study for any of the exams you have.

“We’re going to set up a routine on how the study session is going to go. All of us will go over the study guide and notes with you, alright?” Diluc says, patting the spot beside him.

You sit next to him and pull your notes out from your backpack. It was a lot to study, and despite the men volunteering to help you, they can see why you get overwhelmed easily with your studies. The study session hasn’t even started yet, and some of them want to call it a day already.

“How are you going to retain all of these things before the exam?” Xiao mutters, holding up stacks of notes and study guides in the air.

You laugh bitterly and shake your head. “I don’t! I just pray to whichever Archon is listening to me and hope for the best that some of these things stick to my brain before the exam starts,” you reply.

Scaramouche plops down beside you and takes some of the notes from your hands. “And does that work?”

You shrug your shoulders. “Sometimes, but it really depends on what I’m studying and how the information is placed in the exam,” you answer. You look at Zhongli and give him a sheepish smile. “Looks like I’ll be praying to Morax before the exam, hoping he’ll bless me and let me pass all of my exams.” You bat your eyelashes at the former Geo Archon.

Zhongli chuckles and shakes his head, handing you a sliced fruit to eat. You grab the plate from Zhongli’s hands before passing out fruits to the others around you. Dainsleif was in charge of keeping up with the time. The only time you can take a break from your studies is if Dainsleif tells you it’s time to take a break.

“You will be going through your notes and study guide for one class. You have an hour to go over it, and once one hour is up, you will have a fifteen-minute break from your studies before one of them starts quizzing you on what you went over,” says Dainsleif.

You raise your hand before speaking, “Wait, so… is the fifteen-minute break a break from studying and I get to relax for a little bit, or is it a fifteen-minute break from going over my notes and I have to refresh my memory before being quizzed?”

“The fifteen-minute break can be anything for you. If you want to take that fifteen-minute break to go through what you have studied, then you can do that. But we recommend you take that time to relax because cramming your studies won’t help,” replies Ayato.

You sigh and flop back on the chair, staring at the ceiling while contemplating your choices in life. This is what you get for wanting to be a strong and independent person who needs no man to help them with being successful. Here you are, having your lovely boyfriends assist you with your studies. As much as you want to show them you can do it on your own, you can’t do it because you have tried it for the last few days, and look at where you are right now. 

Not retaining any information while getting a headache for stressing yourself out. It’s also nice to have company while you study because it gives you some motivation and you won’t feel lonely! Even though you know some people tend to be distracting with their touchiness, they understand how important these exams are for you and your future at the Akademiya. 

“Okay, let’s get started with the studying! We’ll continue this routine up until the day of your exams. When it’s the day of your exams, we will help you with your studies at the House of Daena before you go to the lecture hall,” says Gorou.

You can always trust Gorou to help you come up with a strategy for your studies. The men will give Gorou some suggestions, and Gorou puts them together to make a strategy that is usually successful. The only plan that Gorou came up with that ended up failing was trying to surprise you for your birthday. You were able to figure things out because they took you to many places you’ve never been to, making you suspicious of them.

Baizhu stops before you and tilts your head up, examining you closely while Changsheng slithers close to your face, eyeing you with her dark pink eyes. You blink at Changsheng and Baizhu, watching the white snake retreat back onto Baizhu’s shoulders.

“It seems like [Y/N] hasn’t been taking their melatonin. They’ve been skipping out on their sleep,” says Changsheng.

Baizhu sighs and rubs his temples. “Just as I feared. [Y/N], I know you’re going to take the fifteen-minute break to review the materials you’ve studied. I think it’s best for you to take that time and nap instead,” says Baizhu, stroking your cheek.

You stare at Baizhu and look over at the others, pressing your lips into a thin line. You see, you would love to take a nap during your fifteen-minute break from your studies, but you don’t think it’ll be a good idea. You can do anything other than take a nap.

You place your hand over Baizhu’s hands, giving them a squeeze. “What if I wake up from my nap and do not want to study? Then what?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at Baizhu.

Kazuha sits on the ground and grabs your study guides and notes. “Oh, you won’t have to worry about that,” Kazuha smiles, flipping through your notes. 

“We’ll make sure you don’t over-nap or continue to take a nap after waking up,” replies Albedo, ruffling your hair.

Kaeya smirks, raising his hand up. “But if you do struggle with it, I know a way to wake you right up,” he winks at you. 

You point an accusing finger at Kaeya. “If you’re going to shove your cold hands up my shirt, I will never forgive you for it,” you state.

Kaeya chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. Capitano, Pierro, and Pantalone gesture for you to start looking over your notes and study guides after Dainsleif brings out a timer that Dottore lets him borrow for the time being. The perfect guide to studying is having a study group (even if the person or study group isn’t in the same Darshan as you), taking breaks after an hour of studying, quizzing each other based on what you have studied, having a snack while studying, and pray to Morax that you’ll pass your exams.

If you pass your final exams, you’ll be rewarding Zhongli and the rest of the men with something for helping you study for your final exams. You’re not sure what it is, but you’re hoping it’s not going to involve Mora. 

Note: I was going to post this after the HSR fic, but I was so exhausted that I could barely get myself to type the mini-fic and post it. So, yes, this is a late post. Since this is my finals week, I'm hoping to post the second route of the Burning Desire series after my finals week. Tighnari is next because he did lead the poll and is still leading. I'm going to try to make a new fanfic request form since I'm not a huge fan of the current request form. Any requests sent in with the old/current format are void. Anyway, to my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @xyji, @chirikoheina, @yoru-trash, @kaoyamamegami, @deartoru, @luminarymoonlight, @toobytub, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @exhaustedcommunist, @jadedist, @mompt2, @chalksdreams, @thelost-in-time, @ventisweetheart, @hispasian-otaku, @juuuuuj101010, @samarill, @testsubject0012, @irisxiel, @kazuhaprnt, @lunarapple, @emilymikado, @mabie, @vinnie-w, @n8mareee, @heyimkay, @eliciana, @blesstosuisen, @goldeneclipsedragon, @jjvr4yxc, @sovermike-21-blog, @vox34, @skyyyyackerman, @undecidingfate, @nightlysunn, @faeryminnyx, @simpcreator, @lucifarts-boxers, @thelovebuggs, @urlocalheizousimp, @sunlightstarr (Accounts that I was unable to tag have been removed. Those who don't want to be tagged in certain stories are not tagged in this particular post. Remember to check your settings if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

Read more of my works on my Masterlist | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[sourw0lfs]

dance with the devil - part seven

This has been done for days but I told myself I'd write ahead a bit before I posted it. Then my brain went on vacation about it, so uh here?

Words: 692 | Rating: E (mostly parts 1 & 2, but also future parts) | CW: no warnings this time! except Eddie's continued bad time

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || part eleven || part twelve

Most of the details surrounding his actual death are fuzzy to Eddie, and he supposes that makes sense in the grand scheme of things. Something about blocking out trauma or whatever. He isn’t really sure how any of that actually works. Instead he just focuses on making it all into a cohesive story for the girl that’s still staring at him judgingly. And yeah, he’s earned that look if he’s being honest with himself. He did show up uninvited.

“Well,” he says with a dramatic sweep of his arm. “It all starts in this very city, about twenty-three years ago.”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, I want the long story but not your life story,” the girl interrupts him. “Start with how you ended up in the same room as Steve.”

The interruption should be rude, but Eddie just shrugs. Less work for him and his already fuzzy memories. It’s like as soon as he died, everything got jumbled up and thrown away if he didn’t need it. It’s a pain honestly. “Right, so,” he starts again with a pointed look at the girl. “I don’t know if he mentioned that I’ve been assigned as his guardian angel, but I have been. Because I died recently.”

Something twinges painfully in Eddie’s chest as he says the words, but he presses on anyway. It’s not like he knows why he’s sad about being dead. “I don’t know why I got assigned your friend or who made the decision or whatever,” he continues. “I just know that I’ve got a job to keep him safe, and I have to do it or it’s adios to somewhere much less fun for me.”

Hopefully that’s enough to appease both the girl and Steve, because Eddie doesn’t really have much else on the topic. They’re both looking at him like he’s grown a second head, and that does absolutely nothing for Eddie’s worries.

“So you’re not actually an angel then,” the girl says after studying him for a few minutes. “Because if you were, failing Steve wouldn’t be it for you, would it?”

It’s then that Eddie decides he doesn’t like her. Not because she’s wrong. She isn’t wrong. But because there’s something deeply uncomfortable about a stranger calling him out so quickly and easily.

He sighs heavily, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “No, it wouldn’t be. Or I imagine it wouldn’t be. I don’t actually know. I just know I woke up from dying and a really scary, really tiny lady told me I had to keep ‘Steve Harrington’ out of harms way until I stack up enough good points to get real wings. And that failing would be bad.”

The girl is frowning at him, studying him like a bug under a microscope again, and Eddie squirms. Then her expression softens, and it makes Eddie feel bad for disliking her just a little. “Thank you for protecting him,” she says quietly. “Usually that’s my job, but I don’t have angel magic or whatever.”

Eddie isn’t sure why she just believes his words for what they are, but he’s not going to question it. Not if it makes his life (non-life?) easier. "I mean, I barely do, but you're welcome all the same. I'm Eddie." He thrusts a hand in the girl's direction.

"Robin," she returns with a smile as she takes his hand and gives it a firm shake.

It's a lot better, a lot calmer, than his introduction with Steve. Considering Eddie still wouldn't even know his name if he hadn't been sent in with it. Despite the original hesitation, Eddie thinks he might like this Robin girl a lot more. Maybe that'll make this whole thing just a little bit easier to swallow. Because Steve certainly isn't doing Eddie any favors, even after Eddie got him out of what would have been a full-on murder charge. Ungrateful, but Eddie has a job to do, thankless or not.

"Glad you two are getting on, really," Steve says as he looks between the two of them with a grumpy frown. "But what exactly does this all mean for me? It's my life being invaded."

Tags below the cut! Let me know if you want added <3

@chaosgremlinmunson @soaringornithopter @hbyrde36 @shares-a-vest @dreamwatch @quevadilla @tboyeddie @penny00dreadful @momotonescreaming @stevesbipanic @dawners @steddiejudas @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @estrellami-1 @vthx @lolawonsstuff @gleek4twd @littlebluejane @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lawrencebshaggoth @sadisticaltarts @queenie-ofthe-void @r0binscript @anaibis @hairdressersdoitwithstyle @goodolefashionedloverboi @spookednsaucy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @flustratedcas

[velidewrites]

The Daily Struggles Of An Art Student

Desperate to finish her male anatomy assignment before the deadline, Feyre Archeron finds a secluded corner in a cafe. Or so she thinks.

Pairing: Feysand

Tags: Modern AU, Artist!Feyre, Look folks I'm just going to say it: Feyre spends half of this fic looking up reddit [redacted] for a male anatomy assignment

Notes: Happy birthday the wonderful @the-lonelybarricade! I wrote you this definitely not unhinged one-shot as a little gift. Thank you for being such a great friend, and truly the most supportive person in this fandom. I cherish you!!

Read on AO3

Feyre was running out of time.

Deadlines, she decided, were really not her thing. What was that saying? “You can’t rush art?” Well, her professor at the New York Academy of Art would be inclined to disagree. Then again, Feyre wasn’t sure the blank page shining a soft, white light from her iPad could really count as “art.”

She sighed in frustration, shifting in her seat. As if the new angle could help, somehow. With exactly four hours and twenty minutes until she was to submit her assignment, the prospect of failing was quickly starting to look more and more like a reality. Feyre had always been bad at painting from memory, particularly when it came to capturing people. Her own cat, she could probably paint in minutes and be satisfied with the outcome. Or the view from her apartment. Or the honey-brown colour of her sister’s eyes, especially when she just saw Elain at dinner the other day.

Male anatomy, on the other hand…

Feyre needed a reference. Desperately.

It wasn’t unusual for an art student to spend hours on Pinterest, searching for the perfect pose, one that would be just right. Feyre had done it herself too many times to count. It was simply that…well, Pinterest could not provide a reference for everything. And Feyre would rather not use her own memory to capture a man’s physique in full.

She had just broken up with Tamlin, after all, and had very little interest in ever recalling their time together again. Lucky for her, he had moved to Boston last week to pursue his Master’s, never to bother her again. Hopefully.

Unfortunately, with Pinterest proving entirely hopeless, and Tamlin decidedly out of the picture, Feyre was left entirely out of options.

The worst thing about all this was that Feyre had only herself to blame.

There had been one option she simply pretended not to acknowledge, though she would have finished yesterday morning had it not been for her own stubbornness—or, as Nesta had called it, had she not been such a prude. Feyre certainly did not think of herself as one—it was just that…well.

Every morning, from 8 till 10:30 sharp, her class offered anatomy studies with a handful of volunteers from the student body posing for their life drawing. Ninety-nine percent of the time, they were completely nude, which was not something Feyre would have cared about in the slightest had their newest model not been Feyre’s best friend. And her sister’s new boyfriend.

Ever since she had told Lucien Vanserra the school was considering paying the volunteers for their efforts, his gaze lit up and, not even a day later, there he was, his name displayed proudly on the sign-up sheet. Feyre knew him long enough now to know the extra money in his pocket was just an excuse. Someone has to capture this body one way or another, Feyre, Lucien had told her a few days ago, a twinkle in his russet eye. She supposed he did make an interesting art subject, with the scar and all—but not nearly interesting enough to strut through the East Building proudly, letting both students and teachers alike gush on about his “cruel beauty.”

Elain, to her horror, seemed to support Lucien’s latest modelling endeavours wholeheartedly.

“He promised to bring a few of the sketches home,” her sister had told her excitedly at dinner. The best reaction Feyre could offer was a horrified, blinking stare.

It wasn’t that Lucien was lacking in the looks department—on the contrary, actually—but she’d always seen him as a brother, ever since the day he’d almost run her over on his motorcycle, her very first day as a college freshman. And so, for the past few days, Feyre would make sure to avoid the East Building like the plague.

Today, she ended up in a nearby campus cafe, a cozy spot for a senior art student seeking privacy, yet still crowded enough to make Feyre look over her shoulder every few minutes. She’d opted for a secluded corner near the restrooms, with no windows next to her table, just in case a nosy passerby caught a glimpse of what exactly Feyre was drawing. Or, rather, attempting to draw.

She glanced at her phone, an unpleasant sense of dread curling in her stomach once again as she realised twenty more minutes had passed. Had she really wasted all that precious time thinking about Lucien?

Feyre needed to come up with a solution, and fast. There was no way she was failing this class, not in her final year. She was planning to move to Paris next year and continue her education there—where better than the art capital of the world? She would not let a poor painting of a penis, of all things, ruin all of her plans and dreams for the future.

Relying on Pinterest for now, Feyre began sketching the unnamed man. His upper body posed no serious issues, and she found herself done with the clean lineart and three hours thirty minutes left to spare. The thighs, too, seemed to feature all the muscles in correct places, though upon further inspection, she had perhaps drawn them slightly too large for a regular, male specimen. Whatever. With Lucien as the current model, she doubted any of her classmates would submit perfectly proportionate sketches.

Good, Feyre decided. This was good. The only thing left for her to do now was to find a good reference for the final pièce de résistance. She could do this—there was no one around, after all, and she’d make sure her browser history would be wiped clean later. Ressina, her classmate from the Academy, liked to borrow Feyre’s iPad sometimes to try her skills at digital art—and Feyre wasn’t sure their friendship was well-established enough that she could explain without making a fool of herself.

With a deep, deep sigh, Feyre got over herself and fired up Reddit.

Well.

This was going to make things a whole lot easier.

It was honestly beyond her that this entire archive was out there, for free and simply waiting for her to download. Without wasting any more time, Feyre got to scrolling.

She hadn’t expected to be flooded with so many options, but soon enough, she found just the perfect reference—the angle matched exactly the pose she had already outlined, and from the ruler he’d so proudly displayed beside it, the man didn’t seem like he would mind. And so, with the image neatly placed in the corner of her canvas, Feyre began to add the sketch. Everything seemed to be coming together—and, her focus lost entirely to the penis before her, she was actually starting to believe she might just submit this thing in time.

“Friend of yours?”

“Shit!” Feyre jumped, pressing her iPad close to her chest as she whirled back.

The voice behind her—of course—turned out to be a man. The most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

“Well?” he asked, eyes twinkling. Were they actually violet, or was the soft light pouring through the window just that spectacular?

Feyre felt her cheeks heating. “You know, it’s rude to invade other people’s privacy,” she told him, anger slowly replacing the embarrassment coiling in her chest.  Who was this man, this stranger, to question her?

He only seemed more amused, though he lifted a defensive hand. ��Hey, I was just leaving the restroom,” he said, pointing back to the staircase behind. “It’s not my fault you’re right out here for all to see. Who’s invading whose privacy now, hmm?” Before Feyre opened her mouth to retort, the man added, “Oh, no need to apologise. Mind if I sit?”

And with that, he simply plopped down on the chair beside her.

The audacity. 

Feyre’s eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t going to apologise,” she said, setting her now locked iPad on the table.

He ran a hand through his hair, raven waves soaking up the sunlight, and smiled again. “I was hoping you would say that.”

“Anyway, this isn’t my friend,” Feyre said, hoping there was enough mockery in her tone to wipe that stupid grin off his handsome face. “It’s a project. For art school.”

“Ah, yes” he mused, drumming his long, slender fingers on the polished wood. “I could tell from how precise your strokes were.” Something about the way he said strokes made the heat in her face nearly boil over. Get it together, idiot! He leaned back in his seat, as if he could somehow tell exactly what Feyre was thinking. Then, he proclaimed, “You’re an artist.”

Alright, Feyre decided. Not entirely a prick, then. “I’m not sure I’d call myself that,” she admitted honestly. Not yet, at least.

“I would,” he said, the corner of his mouth curling slightly as he added, “I’d like to call you many things, actually. Let’s start with your name.”

There it was. Feyre couldn’t help but flirt in return. Prick or not, she liked his boldness—and his good looks certainly were no disadvantage. “You first,” she demanded.

He flashed her a wide, brilliant smile. “My favourite subject.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “That doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

“Rhysand,” he said. “But you, darling, can call me Rhys.”

Rhysand. The name was so unusual she almost didn’t register what he’d called her. Darling. It was then that she’d finally taken her eyes off his face long enough to take in the rest of him—the deep, English accent, lilting as though he wasn’t speaking to her but singing the smoothest melody.

Yeah—she really needed to get it together.

“What brings you to New York City, Rhysand?” she asked him, not giving him the satisfaction of using his clearly personal nickname yet. His eyes sparkled again, accepting the challenge.

He shrugged. “Research. The sights. Pretty girls drawing male genitalia at 1pm on a Tuesday.” Rhysand winked. “Greatest city in the world, huh?”

Feyre’s cheeks flushed again. “Research?” she questioned, desperate not to go back to that topic with a man she’d only just met.

Rhys chuckled. “Yes. I’m an astronomer—or about to be, at least.”

“Interesting.”

“It is,” he agreed, and she could’ve sworn actual stars flickered in his gaze with the words. “You’d be surprised just how much the night sky has to offer.”

“I paint it sometimes,” Feyre told him, unsure why she’d just admitted something that personal to a stranger. “Whenever I feel…down, I suppose.”

To her surprise, Rhys nodded. “I do the same.”

Her brows flicked up. “Paint?”

“I’m afraid I’m not that talented. No, I look up—watch the stars.”

Feyre smiled. “That actually sounds wonderful.”

Rhys angled his head. “You know, I haven’t had the chance to explore the New York sky yet. I could use some company.”

Something told her she was up for one hell of a first date. “Alright, Rhys,” Feyre said, his face lighting up triumphantly at the name. She chuckled, grabbing her iPad as she rose from her chair. “Meet me here at seven thirty tonight.”

“Wait!” he called after her. “You still haven’t told me your name.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she teased. “I’m not sure I’m ready to part with darling.”

The stars in his eyes twinkled. “Oh, I think we’ll work something out.”

[abbatoirablaze]

Being Meme, George Russell

Word Count:  828

“I don’t know…I don’t think this is the type of thing he would enjoy…”

“You just don’t know George’s sense of humor!” you teased your best friend as you continued to hang up the pictures, “he’ll appreciate this.  He-“

“Babes, you’re replacing all of the pictures of you and your boyfriend from the memes he created this racing season,” Kika laughed, “if I did this to Pierre he’d be so mad…”

“Yes, well your Frenchman is nothing like my Englishman,” you grinned, “George is-“

“Like an eighty year old trapped in a twenty something year olds body!”

You frowned as you looked back to your best friend, “he is not…”

“He so is,” she teased, handing you another photo.  She picked up one of the ones you pulled from the frames just minutes ago and studied it, “you guys have been together a while, haven’t you?”

You nodded, “yeah…four years this Valentine’s Day…you know…he asked me to be his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day.  Had the cutest thing planned out.  He had-“

“Alright mate, where am I setting up the ballo-you’re not George.”

Your brow furrowed as you looked at your other best friend, “Lewis…what are you doing here?  And why do you have big, foil balloons?”

“You’re not George,” he repeated, his face looking like that of a little kid who’s hand was caught in the cookie jar, “George said you weren’t going to be home.”

“We told each other that we were going out…I left to go pick up Kika to decorate the house for our Valentine’s Day date,” you admitted, “what are you doing here, Lewis?”

You heard the front door to yours and your boyfriend’s home, and you were quick to pull Lewis into your bedroom and close the door behind him.

“Lewis?” 

Your eyes widened when you heard your boyfriend’s voice.

“What is he doing here?” you whispered.

“You weren’t supposed to be home!” Lewis accused back in his own whisper. He let go of the balloons and they floated up towards your vaulted ceiling.

“Why not?”

“Lewis, mate?” George repeated, “where are you?  Your car’s outside!  I need you to move so I can put mine in the garage so if she stops home early she doesn’t know I’m here!”

When Lewis didn’t respond a second later, his phone started to ring.  Your eyes went wide and Kika grabbed onto your arm. 

“We have to hide, babes!” Kika begged, pulling you towards your closet.

“Don’t you dare tell George we’re home!” you warned, “get him to leave!”

He rushed to silence his phone, and Kika pulled you into the closet, closing the door just as your bedroom door opened and George strolled in.

“Lewis, what are you doing in my-oh my god, what did you do?”

You had to stifle your giggle as your boyfriend clearly noticed the pictures that had been replaced.  Lewis’ eyes went wide before they quickly looked to the closet, and back to George, “I-“

“This is hilarious!” George smiled, chuckling as he strolled over to the mantle and picked up one of the pictures, “did you do this?  Man, she’ll crack up when she notices this.  Good touch, Lew.”

“Oh…uh yeah…”

“Why are you being weird, mate?” George asked, “I should be the one acting out of sorts.  Tonight is set to be a huge night!”

Lewis’ eyes trailed once more to the door, “we-we don’t have to talk about it, George!”

“Really?” George asked, his brows raising as he looked to his teammate, “you’re one of her best friends.  You were trying to pry the details out of me for months before I caved.”

“Don’t want to spoil the momen-“

“I hope she says yes,” George spilled, cutting Lewis off.  He raced to his bedside table and pulled out a box.   Both you and Kika gasped as he opened it.  She was clinging to your arm as she looked at you, “I’ve spent months talking to this jeweler and designing this thing.  I thin-“

“Yes…well, that’s all well and good!” Lewis said quickly, standing in front of George and blocking your view from your boyfriend, “come on now, and lets-“

“GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL!”

Kika couldn’t hold you back as you burst through the door, eyes watering.  George’s face was comical as he turned around, ring box still in hand.  His brows lifted and his jaw dropped. 

“Babe…” The ring box dropped from his hand, still open, and laid on the bed, “Wh-whatareyoudoinghome?”

“W-were you going to propose to me tonight?” you asked, a tear falling down your cheek. 

George swallowed, nodding ever so slightly, “I-I wanted to surprise you…what are you doing here?  You’re supposed to be at the spa with Ki-”

“Hi George!” Kika smiled, phone in hand.

“Oh George!” you cooed, nearly jumping into his arms as more tears made their way down your cheeks, “Yes…yes!  I’ll marry you!”

“You do realize that he hasn’t officially asked you, right?” Lewis teased.

“Oh knacker off, Lewis!”

[lavendarlily]

ectoberhaunt day 11: calm @ectoberhaunt

the one where i write a ghost nip fic

words: 2744

read it on ao3

cw: underage drug use yes and no?

tucker and sam just want danny to take a night off.

this is so cringe sorry

Being strung out was becoming Danny’s default these days. 

For whatever reason, ghost activity had jumped up significantly in the last week. Even if he wanted to investigate it further, he couldn’t, because there were just that many ghosts to deal with. 

Saturday evening rolled around, and to Danny’s absolute shock, he’d been able to lay in bed undisturbed now for twenty minutes. He even considered risking it and finally taking a shower. It’d probably been a good three to four days since his last, and chasing after loose spirits tended to get one pretty sweaty.

Danny raised an arm and sniffed. Oof. Yeah, he needed to shower. 

He walked across the hall to the bathroom and started the water. While he typically didn’t mind cold showers due to his body temperature, a hot one sounded like a blessing on his aching body. 

Danny peeled off his clothes, and held back a groan. Jeez, he really needed a break. At this point he wasn’t sure if his healing was slowing down as a result of his tiredness, or the beatings were so constant that he never had enough time to heal before the next one. 

Once he was clean (was it actually possible to have that much dirt under your fingernails?), Danny dared to put on an old hoodie and sweatpants that had been all but forgotten the last few weeks. Peak comfort. He wandered back to his bedroom, and lost all sense of peace from his shower when he found two people in his room that he was not expecting. 

“Jesus! What are you guys doing here?” he yelped.

Sam and Tucker stared back at him with shocked expressions.

“What? Why are you looking at me like I’m the intruder?”

“Dude…look at yourself,” Tucker said in a low voice.

Danny looked down at the rest of his body. Where his hoodie and sweatpants were only a moment ago had been replaced by his hazmat suit, and his feet were now hovering a few inches above the ground.

He’d transformed to Phantom without even meaning to. Danny exhaled and closed his eyes slowly, then dropped his ghostly form. 

“Shit guys, I’m so sorry. Everything going on lately has me a little jumpy.”

Tucker and Sam exchanged a look.

“That’s what we wanted to talk to you about. We’re worried that you aren’t taking care of yourself,” Sam began.

“And we’re not letting you get worse,” Tucker finished. He turned to fish something out of his backpack behind him, and held out a small vial to Danny, who looked at it questioningly.

Sam noticed his hesitance and explained, “It’s something we got from Frostbite. We reached out to him because we’ve been so concerned. He told us this would help you cool off, and you deserve a night of rest.”

Let it be known that Danny always appreciated his friends looking out for him. He knew he probably would’ve died-died the first week of having his ghost powers if they weren’t there. But this was something they didn’t understand.

“I can’t just leave the city unprotected,” he argued. 

“We know that - which is why Jazz and your parents are patrolling tonight,” Tucker assured. 

“Guys I really don’t think-”

“About yourself? Your well-being? Yeah, we noticed.”

The glare Sam received from Tucker prompted her to backtrack.

“We care a lot about you, Danny. But even heroes need a break.” She grabbed the small vial from Tucker and placed it in Danny’s hand. “It’s just one night.” 

Danny looked at the small vial of…whatever it was…and back at his friends. Deep down, he knew they were right - between his parents and Jazz things would most likely be okay for the night. And if what he was holding was really supposed to help him chill…then maybe he could stop worrying about it altogether and just enjoy a night off. 

He raised the vial to eye level and studied the contents. Inside was what seemed to be a glowling, finely ground substance, definitely ghostly in nature. 

He squinted at it. “Do you guys even know what this is?”

They both shrugged. “Frostbite said it was a natural medicine. Other than that, he didn’t offer much,” Tucker explained.

“Do I…just eat it?” Danny asked.

Sam bit her lip. “What if you smoked it?” she cautiously suggested. Out of the three of them, Sam was the most adventurous in…exploring self-medication. Danny shied away from it, among other mind-altering substances, in fear of losing control of his ghost half, dreading it could result in a numerous amount of bad endings. While Tucker wasn’t opposed to it, he knew he was better off dead if his parents found out. 

“I don’t know…,” Danny trailed off, as Sam already had repossessed the vial and began grabbing various items from her backpack. In a matter of seconds, Sam triumphantly held up a rolled piece of paper containing the contents of the vial. She held out a lighter in her other hand, and Danny hesitantly grabbed the paraphernalia.

When he didn’t make a move, Sam rolled her eyes and grabbed the cone from him, and placed it between his lips. Snatching the lighter, she struck a flame and held it to the end of what Danny decided to just call a joint. 

“Now just take a gentle breath,” she coaxed. 

Danny sucked in a shallow breath and immediately coughed at the discomfort in his throat, hunching over with his hands on his knees. Sam held the smoking paper away from him, and patted his back, giggling.

“You okay champ?” she laughed.

Danny glared up at her. “I knew this wasn’t a good idea.”

“Come on dude, you barely gave it a chance,” Tucker argued from the bed.

“I really don’t know how I feel about my friends peer pressuring me to do drugs,” he grumbled, righting himself. He nonetheless grabbed the joint back from Sam and stuck the paper between his lips. 

“Danny, shut up and smoke the ghost weed.”

“It’s literally prescribed. Don’t be a pussy,” Tucker jeered. 

If looks could kill, the one Danny sent to Tucker would’ve had him six feet under immediately. He turned to Sam and gave her nod, allowing her to once again strike the lighter. This time he felt better prepared for the sensation, sucking a small amount of smoke in and allowing it to sit in his lungs, before exhaling it out. 

Sam gave him a devilish grin. “I’m so glad to have finally corrupted you.”

“This is different.”

She raised her eyebrows, but didn’t say anything further on the matter, instead chastising him for letting the joint go out as she relit it again . 

HIs two friends refused to do anything else until Danny had smoked a sufficient amount of what they decided to refer to as “ghost weed”, then decided to go downstairs and set up for a movie. Tucker went into the kitchen to make some popcorn while Sam stayed with Danny in the living room to pick out a movie. 

“How about a nature documentary? This one just came out and it’s supposed to be amazing.” She scrolled through the different episodes and landed on one about African wildlife.

Danny was indifferent - he figured he’d probably end up asleep by the time the intro rolled; a nap on the couch was calling his name. 

The trio settled in, and Sam pressed play.

Maybe ten minutes into the documentary, Danny felt a little buzz in his head and a numbness in his body. 

Twenty minutes in, he felt a little delirious, but nothing more than that.

Thirty minutes in, he was laughing silently, but so hard that his body was shaking and tears were streaming down his face. Sam must’ve caught him from the corner of her eye, because she turned and asked, “Oh my god, are you okay Danny? What’s wrong?”

“Is he crying?” was Tucker’s response to his friend’s behavior.

Danny finally let out an audible laugh and pointed at the screen, which was currently showing two male giraffes fighting for dominance.

“They’re just- fucking look at them- fucking noodles just whacking- I can’t,” he stuttered between laughs, almost breathless. 

Sam and Tucker exchanged a look as their friend completely unraveled before them.

Danny continued to lose it throughout the entire giraffe segment. The film then shifted and brought them to Madagascar, introducing the lemurs and their agility in the trees. Danny then began pointing at the TV with finger guns, providing “pew pew” noises as he pretended to shoot at the animals while they jumped from tree to tree on the screen. An ecto-ray came through from one of his “pews” and blasted a hole straight through the television. Danny’s eyes went wide before he fully lost it.

“DID YOU GUYS SEE THAT?” he cried as he rolled on the floor laughing. “I shot- I shot a hole through the TV oh my god guys this is the most ridiculous shit ever I can’t-”

He continued to laugh uncontrollably, holding his stomach as he laid on the floor.

“Oh, he’s high as fuck,” observed Tucker. 

“Best to just let him get it out of his system,” Sam said. “As long as he’s not freaking out, I’m not concerned.”

“What do we do now? TV’s obviously busted.”

“I’M HUNGRY,” whined the voice from the floor. 

“...Guess I’m ordering pizza then,” Sam replied, reaching for her phone and dialing up the local pizza place. 

Danny climbed back up on the sofa, laying across the two. “What happened to the movie?” he pouted. 

“Dude, you literally blasted a hole through the TV,” Tucker deadpanned. 

“Nooooo it came like that,” Danny argued. “I wanna see more animals.”

“Sorry bud.” 

Sam finished her call and returned to the two boys. “Pizza’s ordered - now what?” (this question was more directed at Tucker for obvious reasons).

Danny had slumped back down towards the floor - his upper half still on the sofa while his lower body hung off. “I’m hungryyyyy,” he whined again.

“Pizza should only take like twenty minutes,” Sam said. 

“But I want it nowwww.”

Sam huffed, then stood, looking down at him. “Fine, let’s go to the kitchen and get you a snack.” She reached out her hand for him to take, and led him into the other room, Tucker in tow.

She sat him down at the table, and pulled her phone back out. Pulling up Tik Tok, she shoved the phone into Danny’s hands in hopes of keeping him distracted for the time being. The mish-mash of ten second music clips took over the kitchen while Sam explored the cabinets. In the fridge she found a bowl of grapes that she lazily slid in front of Danny, who was now completely enraptured in the social media before him. 

“He’s like a toddler,” Tucker said. “And we’re literally babysitting him.”

“This is kinda what we wanted though? At least he’s got his mind off things. Just wish we didn’t have to literally drug him to get him to take a break,” Sam said, sitting and resting her chin on her fists. She added, “I don’t mind babysitting one night if it means he gets a night of rest.”

The doorbell rang, interrupting their conversation.

“Must be the pizza,” she said, then stood up and went to answer the door. When she returned with the food, she expected to see the boys how she left them, but was greeted with a much stranger sight.

She hadn’t even been gone that long.

Danny’s seat was now empty. Instead, he had moved on to singing and dancing around the kitchen. The song Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! was now playing through the speakers of her phone. She glanced at Tucker, who was not so secretly recording their friend making the kitchen his stage. 

Laughing, Sam set down the pizzas, and was immediately grabbed by Danny, who started twirling her around. He paused only to lift Tucker from his seat to join his dance party, which very quickly devolved into his two friends watching him with a mix of amusement and relief. 

It’d been so long since they’d seen this side of him. 

The song ended, earning a frown from Danny. He went to snatch the phone and replay it, but Sam intercepted. 

“Hey, you wanted food, remember?” She reminded him, as she went to collect three plates and began serving out the pizza. 

“Pizza? For me?” Danny looked like a kid on Christmas morning as he stared at the hot piece of greasy, cheesy goodness in front of him. He dug in, moans of pleasure escaping as he inhaled his slice.

Tucker scrunched his nose. “Dude. It’s just pizza. You’re eating it, not having sex with it.”

“Mmph it’s so good,” he replied through a mouthful. “I’m so horny for pizza.”

“Danny! ”

Once he was satiated, Danny slumped back into his seat, eyes closed and a small smile on his face. “I wanna go flying,” he said dreamily. “Flying sounds nice.” 

“Not sure that’s such a good idea,” Tucker cautioned. Danny opened his eyes and looked at his friend annoyed. 

“I want to fly,” he repeated stubbornly. Before Sam or Tucker could say anything more, he shifted and disappeared through the ceiling. The two scrambled from their seats and bolted towards the roof of the residence, hoping to catch their friend before he flew off to who knows where in his altered state of mind. 

Once on the roof, they desperately looked in every direction for Danny to no avail. A sudden chill went up their spines, their only warning before a “BOO!” startled them from behind. 

“Danny, what the hell!” Sam yelled, the ghost before them hysterically laughing. 

“Get it guys? Because I’m a ghost? I totally got you!” he cried. His laughter slowed a little, a wave of realization washing over his face. He looked down at his hands and whispered. “I’m a ghost.” He returned his gaze to his friends. 

“Why am I a ghost?” he asked softly.

Sam groaned internally and threw her head back - this was heading towards a freak out, if she knew any better. Tucker reached out towards him, sensing the same thing. 

Danny backed away from the touch, his expression moving from confusion to sorrow. 

His head was swirling and his thoughts hitting him like bullets he couldn't defend against. It was all coming at him so fast, circling his mind again and again. He was a ghost, he wasn’t human, he was a freak, who could love a freak? 

“I’m a freak,” he whispered to no one in particular. While he was distracted by his own thoughts, Sam and Tucker leapt at their friend, trapping him in the middle of a hug. This time he didn’t fight their affection, and let them bring him towards the ground. 

“You’re not a freak,” Tucker said from his side of Danny. “You’re a hero.”

“You put everyone else first, even if they don’t deserve it,” Sam added. “You bring so much good to the world.”

“And we love you, no matter if you’re human, ghost, or something in between,” Tucker finished.

The body between them let out a shaky breath, and suddenly the cold mass became warm again as he shifted back to his human half.

“Sorry guys, whatever is in my system definitely has me all wonky,” Danny croaked, causing his friends to chuckle. 

“You don’t say?” Tucker laughed. 

“How are you feeling now?” Sam asked. 

Danny sighed, then, “I feel like that short existential crisis sobered me up a bit, but I’m not as erratic anymore.” He grinned sheepishly. “Maybe we just go back and finish the documentary?”

Tucker scoffed. “Danny, you broke the TV, remember?” 

Danny’s eyes went wide. “Oh shit, I did do that. How am I gonna explain that to my parents?”

“Ghost attack,” his friends said in unison. 

“I mean, that’s not technically a lie.” Danny shifted back to his ghostly alter-ego and stood. “Why don’t we go to my room and watch something on my laptop then?” His friends smiled up at him and took his hands, sinking back down into the home. The three of them somehow managed to squeeze onto his small bed with the computer at the foot playing the rest of the movie. At some point, their chatter and laughter trailed off into soft snores as Danny was accompanied in his first peaceful night of sleep in weeks. 

[outroshooky]

Questions Tag!

Tagged by @tendershepherd (Danke Shep!)

Tagging: @a-heart-full-of-javert, @vankoya, @joonbird (If y’all’ve already been tagged or want to skip this, go for it)

1. Nicknames: Written, Seagull, Scuttle, Yun Mango Dango, Moon Yong (thanks @lolnxcole)

2. Gender: Female

3. Zodiac: Aries

4. Height: 5′5″

5. Age: 16

6. Time: 2:55pm (EST)

7. Favorite Bands/Solo Artists: Oh boy, there are a lot of these. Favorite bands would have to be Panic! At The Disco, Fall Out Boy, BTS, CHRVCHES, Imagine Dragons, Caravan Palace, Monstercat (technically a record company, but oh well), and twenty one pilots. Favorite solo artists would have to be blackbear, Agust D, Troye Sivan, Tristam, Muzzy, Dion Timmer, Conro, Grant, WRLD, San Holo, Karma Fields, Rameses B, KSHMR, TheFatRat, Alan Walker, Galantis, Avicii, Zedd, Loote... virtually anything electronic.

8. Song Stuck in my head: Where Did You Come From by BTS.

9. Last movie I saw: Pretty In Pink about a month ago... It wasn't a voluntary decision.

10. Last thing I googled: "BTS love and support memes" for love and support.

11. Other blogs: Nada.

12. Why I chose my username: I'm a very indecisive writer, and I erase and rewrite constantly before working out a final product. I originally selected the blog name "writtenthenerased", but mistyped it as "writtenthanerased" in a text to a friend. I didn't catch the typo until he asked me to clarify between two meanings, one of which was "Do you mean it as in 'I'd rather be written than erased'?" I thought it personally fit me rather well, and I selected writtenthanerased as my blog name.

13. Following: Twenty-eight blogs over a wide variety of topics: yourdaily, interior design, self-help, writing tips, best friends' blogs, art tips, and Bangtan writers.

14. Average amount of sleep: Either five hours, nine, or none at all. I'm a high school student, so I really don't have the concept of a sleep schedule.

15. Lucky Number: 7!

16. What am I wearing: An oversized high school band sweatshirt, a gray Monstercat Uncaged t-shirt and pajama pants.

17. Dream job: Airline pilot, professional procrastinator.

18. Dream trip: Since I've already gone on my dream Europe trip, I'm currently in the works with a friend about a Southeast Asia trip to Japan and South Korea. Owl cafés? Owl cafés.

19. Favorite Food: My grandmother's pasta, which is utterly heavenly, or strawberry bubble tea.

20. Play an instrument: Clarinet, handbells, piano.

21. Favorite song (right now): I can't pick just one, sadly: Airplane Part 2 and Fake Love by BTS, Your Side Of The Bed by Loote, Wanderlust by blackbear, Questions by Tristam, an Airplane Part 2/Havana mashup, and a Monster/Save Me mashup on YouTube.

22. Play(ed) any sport: I played softball for two years before being hit in the head and realizing that catching things wasn't my calling. I have, though, played tennis for nine or ten years and counting.

23. Hair color: Dirty blonde.

24. Eye color: Namely green, although it changes to a more bluish or brownish shade depending on the light.

25. Languages you speak/are learning: I speak English and some various German profanities. I'm currently in year two of four of my high school Latin education. Yeet cum fiducia! (Side note, I'm not responsible for whatever links come up when you input that phrase into Google)

26. Random fact: So this is going to sound really freaking weird, but I'm actually a student pilot! I've been flying since I was thirteen (yes, here in the United States, it is legal to fly a single-engine plane before you can drive a car. Lovely lawmaking, isn't it?) and have nearly enough hours to apply for my private pilot’s license (a minimum of forty). As I just turned sixteen two months ago, over the summer I will be going to a flight camp for three weeks, upon which I will take my first solo flight! I'm looking to pursue this in college and obtain a Bachelor's in Aeronautical Science; from there I'll hop into the airlines and hopefully start working my way up from there. I've always been passionate about aviation, and I'm an air show junkie who's been to shows and air tattoos in numerous states and countries. It's a weird hobby for a sixteen year old to have, but hey, I like a little diversity in my life.

27. Describe yourself: I’m an INFJ on the Meyers-Briggs scale, and a 1w2 on the Enneagram. 

To be honest, I’ve spent more time thinking about this question than was probably necessary, but I struggle to accurately sum myself up in a brief paragraph, perhaps because I’m not quite sure who I am yet. Bear with me, this might be a little long.

People tell me I’m intelligent, self-reliant, mature, and wise; apparently I’d make a good therapist, and I’d have to agree. I’ll listen to you even if you’re my worst enemy, because everyone deserves to be heard, no matter what our relationship status is. I’m a natural mediator, and it takes a lot to get me truly angry, but once I am, it’s not a pretty sight. I’m painfully selfless, maybe too selfless at times, and I’ve learned that I give people too many chances. I trust a little too quickly, but I’m also terrified of telling people my inner thoughts (what a weird conundrum, huh?). I’m hung up on the “what if”s, they’ll haunt me until the end of time. I’m anxious; I love to be alone, but I’m scared to be lonely. I hope for the best and assume the worst, and the end product is usually somewhere in the middle. 

I’m usually fairly quiet because if it’s a weekday, chances are I haven’t slept well. I rarely take the initiative in conversations, but god, get me on a topic I love? I’ll talk your ear off for hours about Overwatch and European History and the F-18. My friends say I’m sarcastically savage, but also have a heart of gold, and will do anything for the people I love. I love without abandon; I like to assume the best in people and find the good in every bad situation, seek out the little things that bring joy to a darker day. I create endlessly, through writing and drawing and architecture and dreaming. My mind is always thinking, always conceiving, and rarely does it ever stop, but I’m painfully perfectionist; I criticize constantly, from the ragged edges of my chewed-short fingernails to the sentence I just typed on a blank Google doc. I run from the past and look to the future, and it seems so far away, but I blink and I’m suddenly looking at junior year of high school and the world of college and student loans and sweet, sweet independence. It’s right here, I’m right on the verge, and just about when I think I can see who I actually am, the kaleidoscope turns a little to the right, and there’s a different design in the eyepiece.

It’s been turning a lot lately, it seems. I’ve lost a lot of people, been burned at the edges, discovered what it’s like to have everything fall out from underneath you. But you know what? I’m still here, and that kaleidoscope is still rotating, because each time another block has been pulled out, I see yet another side of myself I never knew existed, and even in just a few months, I’ve learned countless lessons about people and feelings and even my own self. Thus, I’ll keep looking through the eyepiece and watching the pieces turn, beautiful and bright in their design.

Because I can’t do much else other than hope and dream, push forward to the future, to the days when things will work themselves out, to the moment when I can work myself out.

And that day, I think, I’ll finally see the whole mosaic.

[dashofmonsters]

The Long Road- Pt. 9

Male Naga x F!Reader

You were expecting a lot worse when Enyn said that your father was fighting Isa, but this is just sad.

Mr. Gohar and an orc are holding your blabbering father back while he's crying and yelling obscene things at Isa who is being held back by Helena because Silas' mother is throwing what looks like a basket of herbs at him.

"Honestly it was much worse a few minutes ago, Isa had smashed a glass against his head and slapped him with her tail. I think she only shirked back a bit because dear Helena got in the middle," Luctux comments as he sips from a mug.

You look at your father and see a small trickle of blood running down the side of his face. Silas squeezes your hand as if to help ease the rising tension building up. It doesn't really help.

"Anything else?" Silas asks the tiefling who only shakes his head. "Right then. My dear, how would you like to handle this?"

For a moment you think about the most peaceful option into breaking this up but you know deep down that won't work. So you start rolling your sleeves back and you hand your staff off to Silas before trudging up to your father.

He's still blabbering on as you walk up to him but the second your fist connects with his cheek he and the entire room silences immediately. His eyes are wide and redden from crying and drinking, his mouth hangs open in shock and his body goes limp.

"No more excuses, no more secrets. Your brother is about to start a fucking war and you're over here acting like an ass because everything is crashing down on you. You don't get to act like this after everything you've kept from the family! You don't get to play the victim because you fucked up! Whatever happened all those years ago, you need to get over it because things are about to get a lot worse!" you yell at him.

His expression goes blank and he begins to fall but Mr. Gohar catches him and sits him on one of the benches.

You turn and notice that Isa and Helena have stilled. Silas' mother holds a bundle of herbs to her chest and gives you a nod, acknowledging that she's net.

"Mr. Gohar, can you see to it that he sobers up please," you smile up at the elderly drider before turning to your brother. "We're going to have a lot of upset people here tomorrow, you know what to do. I'll tell you more about it later... today."

Silas slithers further into the hall and you watch as his mother eyes the armor he's wearing.

"We need to talk, now," is all he says to her, his voice dangerously calm.

Isa straightens herself and sighs, "Yes, I suppose we do."

Peter escorts Helena over to your side as Silas and his mother move to go towards the sitting room you'd been using to study in. Once the door shuts you hear your brother make a clicking noise.

"So how many angry people are we talking about? Ten? Twenty?" Peter gives you an awkward grin.

You shrug, "I'll get a rough number tonight whenever Silas' uncles swing by."

"Anyon and Enyn?" one of the men who had been holding your father back asks.

You and Peter look over and see a group of men huddled together with tight lipped smiles.

"Yeah, we're still here," one of them, the tall elf with a long blond braid waves.

"Oh uh sorry, I just-"

"Don't mind Lir, he just don't like being ignored is all. I'm Gustav by the way, and that's Culann-" the tall broad orc points to a rather thin and lanky dryad who raises a spindly hand. "That's Thurl-" he gestures over to a four armed giant of a man with greyish skin and orc-like features. "And of course that there is Lir, aka sir bitches a lot."

Lir shoots Gustav the finger, "Very rich coming from the one who earned the oh so endearing nickname Cu-"

The entire group quickly jumps him.

"You mad? That's Zale's daughter! If he catches wind of any of us speaking like that in front of her...," Gustav warns Lir.

You roll your eyes, "Yeah no, I worked in a tavern in Melmar. I can damn well guarantee that whatever he was going to say, I've heard worse."

Lir sticks out his arms in defense before crossing them. Gustav just rolls his eyes and shakes his head, "Moving on, I take it there's a lot of things that need to be discussed. Where's uh... where's your mother? Surely she would-"

"Dead, she died giving birth to me," you reply.

Everyone stills and they look as if they'd been punched in the gut.

"No... he would have told us... we would have...," Culann drops to the nearest bench and cradles his head in his hands. The others sway and murmur amongst themselves until Gohar descends the stairs.

"He didn't want to say anything because... it's complicated. More complicated then just being dead," Gohar looks to you with a pained expression. "Your father is one of the rooms, tied up. Don't expect him to be coherent till tomorrow."

"You knew? You knew Silver was dead and you didn't say anything?!" Lir snaps at Gohar and you back up a little.

You start to realize that you're not the only one being effected by these secrets but so many others. Just how far and how long have things been unsaid?

"She's not... It's complicated and then there's the matter of Valen-"

"And where's he? Dead too? What else have you and Zale been hiding?" this time Thurl speaks up, both sets of arms crossed.

The men start barking at Gohar, questioning him and his loyalties to the rest of the crew. You feel Peter tug you back a tad and you look back to see concern and confusion clouding his face.

"Valen's not dead though, right? He went missing... that's what Silas told me... But mom... dad said she-" Peter clutches his head in pain suddenly, wincing as if someone just hit him as hard as they could.

You and Helena help hold him up as he groans in pain, the angry group of men quieting as they watch your brother writhe.

"Mom didn't... she-" Peter let's out a sharp cry and Gohar rushes to his side.

"Stop thinking about it lad, you're going to do more harm to yourself the more you try to figure it out," he tries to pry Peter's hands from his face but it only causes him to jerk back.

"No! No she's not... she was right there! She was-"

Suddenly Peter is crumpling but never hits the ground. Luctux catches him and holds him up.

"What did you do!?" you look to the tiefling who sighs heavily.

"I spared your poor brother a terrible pain. If what Mr. Gohar was insinuating I'm taking it that there's some sort of curse or spell causing some issues?" Luctux looks to the drider as he drags your brother over to the bench Culann is sitting on.

"Something like that. Isa knows more about the situation that this thing has put a lot of people under. But that can wait, right now we have bigger problems. Notus is back and out for blood," Gohar looks to the group and their eyes widen.

"Too many people are getting involved in this," Luctux adds. "Cults and thieves are being added to the ranks causing internal conflict. If things get too out of hand Notus will have the entirety of Malredra in the palm of his hand before a war can even begin."

You remember Charlie telling you about the cults and the one Selia was in. Did the stragglers join with your uncle? How many survived that fight?

"We still have some slim chance for hope right? Kat said that Singred had someone send his message to the king so all we have to do is see what sort of response we get?" you ask.

Luctux shakes his head, "Even if the king responds there's no telling how much good it'll do. Notus is after the royal family, that much we know for certain. The overall end game is much worse."

Silence fills the hall as everyone grasps what to say next. Gustav groans as he folds his arms close to his chest, his nose scrunching. Culann raises his head and rests his spindly hands on his knees.

"I had feared this day would come," Lir clicks and strides forward. "I knew, we all knew that this might happen." The elf pauses before you and puts a hand on your shoulder. "Most of us are old and tired and have seen war before. We know- Knew Notus before the fall of Aella. He loves his family or at least he did. Zale's bargain for peace was like a knife to the back for him so I can't say for certain how safe you and your siblings would be if he knows you exist."

Your gut wrenches and the sour taste of bile crawls up your throat. Part of you had already figured this out, that's why you were glad to see Peter and Helena here but hearing it just makes the whole thing seem more real.

"So what I'm hearing is that it doesn't matter if I'm my father's daughter or not, if I fight I'm still his enemy?" you look Lir dead on and the elf looks stunned.

"She's got a point, regardless of her relation if she fights she fights as one of us," Gohar nods his head.

It's your turn to be stunned as you look passed the elf, "Wait what do you mean?"

Mr. Gohar shrugs, "I can't speak for everyone else but if Notus' is stirring shit like this then it means I can take care of some unfinished business."

The others look at each other and nod and grimace. You look back up to Lir who nods to you as well, "Welcome to the crew of The Dread Maunder."

~~~~~~

You and the few crew members that had made their lives here in Gilli talk, really really talk. They give you more insight to your parents than you ever hoped to get. Mr. Gohar seems to want to steer some topics away but the others are too mad at him to listen and you're honestly thankful for it.

Everything they say hits hard but you take it all in. Lir eventually breaks the conversation for a very late lunch that you, Helena, and Culann make with whatever food survived Isa's wrath from the start of her fight with your father.

Silas and Isa eventually make their way out of the study, both red eyed and tear stained cheeks. Silas makes a beeline towards you as you and Helena take a few trays of food to the dining hall.

"We're about to eat... Peter is uh currently passed out and my dad is upstairs tied up. We can talk later if you'd like," you give him a reassuring smile.

"Ok..." he nods and follows you closely to the dining room that the group had settled into earlier.

Gustav is running his hands through his hair and shaking his head when the three of you enter. His eyes go to Silas for a moment then back to you, "Culann still in the kitchen?"

You nod, "He kept taking over so we just ended up standing there. Helena almost started a fist fight with him."

"Now that's a fight I'd pay to see," Lir snickers and Thurl chuckles.

Helena gives them both the finger after she sets down the trays.

"You must be Valen's boy," Gustav goes over to Silas and clasps his hand on his shoulder. "Good to meet ya lad, now come and sit down. You look like you could use a drink."

The cold sorrow on Silas' face sobers into something calmer and he gives the orc a tight lipped smile, "Thank you, but not right now... That and I'm not much of a fan of alcohol."

Gustav shrugs but ushers Silas over to the table all the same. You take a seat next to him after you set the trays down. You urge him to eat something even if it's just a few bites but he just stares at the food. You sigh to yourself and roll your eyes before tapping his shoulder. He leans down and you whisper, "Don't make me coddle you like a hatchling."

He leans into you and starts laughing, the group of men eyeing the situation with raised brows or knowing grins. Luctux whispers something to Lir who then stands up, "AH! I knew it! I called it! Pay up!"

Both you and Silas look at the elf with confusion.

Culann walks in with a large tray of meats and fish that is unusually ignored by the grumbling men. "What in the nine hells did I miss?"

"Lir won the bet," Gustav points to you and Silas.

The dryad looks at the both of you and grins, "Oh is that so?"

"Wait what bet?" Silas asks.

"The bet that if Silver had a daughter and Valen had a son that they'd get together," Lir crosses his arms in triumph.

"That's a uh... oddly specific bet," you raise a brow.

The group of men shake their heads.

"Valen and Silver were very close, if it weren't for Isa most of us thought those two would have wound up together. That and Silver was very much in love with Zale, to everyone's confusion. Because of that closeness we bet the odds on sons and daughters. Lir of course won. I'd thought Silver would have a son that would get with Valen's daughter, but the damn snake never had anymore kids," Thurl admits.

Silas inhales sharply and clears his throat, "Actually he did have a second clutch."

The room goes quiet and all eyes are on him.

"They're uh...it's-" he pauses and when he looks up you both notice Mr. Gohar standing up.

"They're stuck in the same loop aren't they?" the drider asks.

Everyone's face pales and the tension in the room makes it hard to breathe. Silas nods.

"Don't tell me that idiot went to those ruins? What the hells for?" Lir stands, his chair slamming down to the floor.

"Erinna was dying and the only cure was near the old temple. My mother had mentioned-"

"So Isa sends her husband off to his death?" Lir yells, his voice echoing in the room. "Mabdreger's Temple is an unholy death trap, everyone knows that! I don't care if it's home to a rare herb or godly ass cure, it's a cursed place!"

Mabdreger's Temple, you've only heard of that place a handful of times and no one had anything good to say about it. An ancient place where time doesn't play by the rules, where people have wondered in and never returned or where people walk out of and go mad the second the enter the real world. If Silas' father went there for a cure-

"Then Peter?," Helena whispers and looks to Gohar.

"What about Peter and his mother, how do they tie into this?" She asks.

"Peter and Zale are afflicted with the madness caused by the temple since they were in close proximity whenever Silver vanished. Silver herself is somewhere in the temple, where though, that's anyone's guess. The clutch is also somewhere at the temple as well," Gohar replies, his pale yellow eyes closing as he sinks down. His shoulders sag as if a great weight has been taken off his shoulders and you suppose after holding onto these secrets for years, it has.

"Well fuck," Thurl clicks. "And here I thought this day couldn't get anymore messed up."

Silas looks down at the table with wide eyes, "Oh it can and it will. My uncle still hasn't come by to hash things out with my mom."

Gustav who had been drinking ale spits it out and slams his hand on the table, "Anyon hashing things out with Isa?! The gods take me now! Culann, hide all the cutlery and heavy pans!"

The group starts up again, some still barking at Gohar while others talk about the upcoming fight of the in-laws. Helena tiptoes over to the quiet and observant Luctux who's nibbling on his pipe. He pulls up a seat for her before his eyes go over to you and Silas. He smiles and gestures towards the door as if he knows you're looking for a moment to escape.

You tug on Silas' hand as you stand up and he silently follows you out. It wasn't like you needed a breather from all the information that had been dumped on you or a second to put everything together, but you did need a moment not to think about it. So once you and Silas are further down the hall you tug him down and kiss him.

His moan of surprise against your lips is quickly drowned out by the sound of your heart beat in your ears. You feel him pick you up and deepen the kiss, the breathing between either of you becoming shorter with each kiss. And then you feel a tear.

"Silas?" you cup his face and he winces.

"It's nothing," he nuzzles against you, holding you tighter. "I'm just feeling a lot right now, but this, this helps. You help."

You hug him back, "You help me too. More than you'll ever know."

The both of you just stand there in each other's arms for a good bit before you start peeling away. Your hands linger in his and he brings them up to his lips and he kisses the tips over and over again till you're giggling.

"It's odd that all this stuff is finally getting aired out isn't it," he scrunches his nose.

"Better now then later," you shrug.

"What are we going to do now?" Silas asks.

"I'm going to train with Kat, get my abilities under control so that when it's time I can fight. I don't want to be a liability or left behind or a damsel in distress, that's not who I am," you look up to Silas who and he nods.

"I should probably do the same. I'm not that good at fighting, I'm subpar at best if I'm being honest. Luctux and Selia really carried the party when it came down to actual fights. I also need to expand my use of teleportation since it's pretty useless as is," he grimaces and crosses his arms.

"We both have a lot to work on I guess. It'll be a good distraction, at least for me," you chuckle and lean against the wall.

"Distraction?" Silas inches towards you but you look away and stare blankly out the window.

"Yeah because I really don't want to think about the fact that my mother might not actually be dead or that my uncle wants to kill my family or that my dad and brother are afflicted by some temple magic causing them to become insane and then there's my own personal garbage on top of all of that! I- I'd rather be doing something that can just shut it off for a while," Your eyes sting a bit but you don't dare let a tear slip down as you look back up at Silas. "I wanted the truth and this is what I get! One giant fucking mess... all I wanted to do was travel, get out of Melmar for a while, see the world... Not get involved in a war!"

Your voice echoes down the hall and you feel Silas close in on you, his head dipping down and resting atop your own, "There's nothing I can say right now that'll make any of this better, but maybe once everything is over..." he pauses and inhales sharply. "Once everything is over we can start over and really travel. Go out and see the world with nothing hanging over our heads. Just you, me and George."

A breathy laugh escapes your lips as you look up, "We'll be dragging that poor salamander around the world?"

"He'll love it, he'll get to eat sticks from every continent," Silas chuckles then dips down and kisses your forehead. "Let's just get through all this and then it'll just be us."

Your stomach flips and you feel your heart flutter and your cheeks heat up. His words helped sooth the heaviness you've been feeling with the past being aired out but it does something else to you. You reach up and pull his face down just enough as you stand on your tip toes to kiss him. You feel him smiling against your lips and you feel in that moment that everything will turn out alright.

"Just us, and George," you smile.

"Just us," Silas agrees and tries to kiss you again but a heavy knock to the front door has him bending back with a groan, you laugh.

"That's probably Anyon," you give him a nervous smile.

Silas eyes widen and he scrunches his nose, "Might as well get this over with."

Anyon thankfully had brought Enyn with him, both bundled up for the cold and being shadowed by your aunt Kat and Elli.

Elli and Kat glide past Silas' uncles and over to your side obviously trying to whisk you away. Silas smiles and tells you that he'll find you later. He takes his uncles to wherever his mother had slithered off to.

"Walk and talk kid," Kat grabs your arm and pulls you along and through the front door. Elli follows and keeps close to your other side.

"I've pulled back several of my informants in Brakkor and have planted a few on the coasts. My sister told me to keep them off of Notus' ships so I sent word out to cease the mission and head to the capitol instead. I'll have eyes on the king in a matter of days, just like you asked. It's going to be tricky to get any closer than scullery maids and stable hands but we have some time I'd like to think," Elli looks forward as she laces her arm around yours and plasters a fake smile on her face.

Your aunt Kat does the same and you feel as if something is wrong, very very wrong. You wish you had grabbed your staff before you left.

"Your sister was in Melmar when we got Peter, Helena and Zale. Apparently her and her husband have been keeping tabs on Notus' ships and provided us with valuable information about the fleet. She said she'll keep watching from a distance and will update us somehow if things change," Kat pulls in closer and makes a strange face that makes Elli laugh. Your aunt leans in even closer and whispers something to you that makes you pulls away from her.

"Act like we're teasing you... we're being watched...followed...They're close."

"It's not funny!" you feign being hurt.

"No but it's cute. So when's the wedding?" Elli grabs you and pinches your cheek.

Kat laughs but the uneasy feeling grows and grows till you feel it prickling the hairs on the back of your neck.

Whatever or whoever got closer, a lot closer.

"Come... come on guys, we're not in a relationship relationship… We're just feeling it out," you blabber, trying your best to act like you don't feel the cold sticky air all around you. You notice Elli and Kat writhe a little but they play it off as if they're about to tease you again.

Something lands on your shoulder with a shlop. You don't see it but you feel it, feel the bony slimy six...no seven fingered hand curl around your neck and chest. You still, your mouth hanging open as something sharp presses into the flesh of your neck and before it gets any deep you ignite.

Your entire body is fire and flames and the thing that had touched you screams. It's invisibility drops as it hits the cold and icy grounds squirming and clawing at the air. It's body looks like it was made of mud and sticks and tar. It's screaming voice reminds you of glass shattering.

"Golem," Kat grits her teeth, covering her ears.

Elli steps back a bit in horror, nearly tripping over her feet.

Rage fills you and the fire wraps itself tighter and tighter till you feel like you have to shed it off. The golem's claws reach for you and as you dodge it you stomp its leg and the flames explode off your body. The golem shrieks and writhes as it dries and cracks under the heat.

Kat and Elli jump back enough that they barely miss the fire lapping at their clothes. You hear your aunt shout out to you but you can't tell what she's saying over the roaring fire in your ears. You stomp down on the golem again and it shatters into chunks of dirt and charred branches and sticks. You watch as the glow in its eyes dim and die.

You look up and around to see Kat shielding Elli. You turn towards the front of the house and see Gustav wide eyed as he holds his arms out, stopping the others from going forward. Then you look at yourself reflected in the window, your body completely on fire, your hands have grown long hard black claws and the whites of your eyes are a dark red.

The world starts to spin and your body becomes heavy. You fall to your knees and the snow covered ground sizzles and steams.

Control, I need to control this... Whatever this is I need to be in control...

You do your best to calm your breathing but every time you look at your hands, your claws, you feel a disconnect.

Control yourself!

You hear people yelling and shouting and running about but you don't register any of it. You close your eyes disregarding the burning sensation as you try to reign in whatever you're feeling.

Control this, go back to normal... back to normal...

The prickling of ice and snow slowly seeps into your skin. You topple over into the snow, a lighter sizzle fizzles in your ears. You want to cry but your eyes are so dry and you're suddenly so tired. You hear several footsteps and slithering approaching you. There's talking, lots of it, but it all fades as your consciousness does as well.

~~~~~~~

You wake up to a pounding headache and an aching body. Your mouth feels dry and there's a warm wet cloth over your eyes. You try and reach up to move it but your hand is swatted away.

"Leave it be," Silas grinds out. "There's herbs in the water that'll help with the strain and dryness. Come on I'll help you sit up, you're probably thirsty."

Silas sits you up and you feel his tail holding you up. He brings a cup up to your lips but they feel glued together. You try to open them but your mouth is so dry. After a few tries he carefully rubs your lips with a balm and helps you slowly peel open your mouth.

"Mother said you'll be bedridden for the rest of tonight and all day tomorrow. Your aunt and grandmother said it's best for you to start training as soon as you're well. Your powers are apparently growing at a rapid rate and need immediate control," Silas explains as he lowers you back into bed.

You let out a heavy sigh then groan. You remember very little of what happened aside from igniting and passing out, there seems to be something missing in between but you're still too tired to even talk much.

"On another note, your fire show stopped my mother and uncle Anyon from clawing each other's eyes out so you kind of stopped that. Oh and Charlie's back from wherever he slid off to these last few days. Apparently he-"

You tug on Silas' hand that had been lying atop your own. You feel him shift a bit on the bed, his hair now tickling your cheek.

"How late is it?" you ask, your voice is scratchy from your raw throat.

"It's a little past midnight," he replies before sitting you up again and bringing another cup of water to your lips.

You drink and ask for another and another till your throat feels somewhat normal. He starts to lay you down again and as he does you reach up for him and wrap your arms around his neck, "Come to bed already. I can't imagine you resting while I've been like this."

Silas laughs, he actually laughs and giggles as you feel him move you into his arms, "I'm the son of a healer my dear and you've been my stubborn yet lovely patient for the past several hours."

"And thanks to you and your worrying I'm on the mend. Now sleep," you kiss his cheek and you feel him relax a bit.

It takes no time at all for the both of you to fall into a heavy sleep. That being said, it takes forever for Silas to slink out of bed the next morning. You feel a bit better having rested and the herbal eye wash restored your eyes to normal. Isa gave you the clear to sit up in bed but that's as much as you're allowed to do under her watch.

Silas, his old party members, and your father's old crew are called away to hold a meeting on information that Charlie had brought back. He promises to fill you in when he gets back but not being able to go makes you a bit uneasy.

Your aunt Kat however takes full advantage of your circumstance to start you on some control exercises but not without some interesting conversation.

"I've never been one to pry into the relationship of relatives but I think I'm going to make an exception for you," she starts, her signature feline-like grin starting to appear.

You inhale sharply as you try and focus on the one emotion you opted to focus on, as part of the exercise...contentment. Thinking back now you feel as if you should have chosen embarrassment since that's all you feel most of the time when Kat talks.

"So it's not a a relationship relationship yet? Just feeling things out?" she teases.

Suddenly you feel yourself reeling, your control easily slipping as a memory slides back into place.

"The golem... The golem! What happened-"

"Oh it's good and gone, you made sure of that," Kat replies then recaps the entire incident without so much as batting an eye. "You looked horrified when you started calming down. We had to cover you snow to get you to cool down so we could carry you inside. Oh and don't worry, your old man was still passed out so he's none the wiser about it."

"Why did I do it? I didn't want to, it just happened and then... I wasn't myself, I had claws and.. and my eyes. What happened to me?" you look down at your hands, your very much real and normal hands. The disconnection to your body coming back once more.

"Your element was reacting. More specifically, the spirit of your element was reacting. For fire it's usually things like dragons and phoenixes, but you got the most volatile of them all, an ifrit spirit. Your semi-transformation was a huge insight even if it scared the hells out of everyone at first. Now that we know you don't have an average spirit we'll be able to work with that for your training," Kat explains, cringing a little towards the end.

You give your aunt a blank stare, your eyes wide and you're fairly certain your mouth is just hanging open before you shout, "IFRIT?!?" as you point to yourself.

<Previous Pt.8 Pt.10>

[jungkxook]

—out of the blue. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader 

⟶ genre: youtuber/gamer!jungkook + fluff / smut 

⟶ words: 5,204

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: catching your boyfriend bleaching and dyeing his hair for a livestream is definitely not what you expected — but it certainly has its perks.

⟶ warnings: established relationship, some attempt at humour, .2 seconds of sort of sub jungkook (you just like seeing him on his knees), you call jungkook a good boy, shower sex, hair pulling, oral sex, face riding, standing sex, breast play, cum eating, doggy style, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ note: because blue haired jungkook has me feeling all sorts of things. also dedicating this to the lovely ryen @kithtaehyung​ because blue haired jungkook is getting her too and i hope this helps!! and thank you to the wonderful @gamerkooks​ and @stanrandomthings​ for always giving me inspiration for gamer jungkook <3

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jungkook has less than a second to react when he hears you bursting through the door of his bedroom, a guilty expression plastered on his face as if you’ve caught him in the midst of a much worse act than what he’s already currently doing ━ but the flustered scowl deepening your countenance is enough for him to certainly feel that way, because how else is he supposed to casually explain why he’s currently sitting shirtless in front of a camera?

Admittedly, the sight is odd enough, and there’s a split moment where your incredulous look is enough to make him feel as if he’s wronged you, and your six month long relationship with him, entirely before he remembers that he didn’t actually do anything wrong like cheat on you, but is actually just trying to dye his hair.

He’s sat in his gaming chair, camera and lights set up around him, and the monitor of his desktop all recording his face to the hundreds of thousands of viewers currently watching his livestream. He had told you well in advance about his aim to do a twenty-four hour live broadcast for his subscribers to both raise money for a donation and to countdown to his next subscriber milestone with the help of his friends ━ and had even asked you to help him plan the event, discussing it animatedly with you for the past month on various occasions ━ but mainly just because Jungkook is crazy enough to sit through a twenty-four hour stream and call it fun.

You had known most of how the entirety of the day would go. Starting from noon the previous day to now, almost an hour before the stream ends, thus far he’s done various gameplays from Minecraft to Overwatch to Among Us simultaneously with his friends who had offered to marathon with him the twenty-four hour event; had a period of time in which Jimin and Taehyung were over and cramped in his room to answer questions and talk to viewers but mostly just to create absolute chaos. You had been there for most of it, though you’re still trying to figure out if it’s a blessing or a curse that you were suckered into paying rent for your three bedroom apartment by Taehyung more than a year ago, and subsequently falling madly in love with Jungkook and forcing you to aid in his antics. You’ve been in a handful of his videos before, appearing in Twitch and YouTube streams, and in the background of vlogs in his channel and the channels belonging to the other boys; and, on that day for Jungkook’s twenty-four hour event, you had joined him at the start before being dragged away for work and then tried to pull an all-nighter with him until you crashed on the couch in the living room, and checking in on him occasionally to give him food and water and to just generally make sure your boyfriend isn’t dead.

Now, with the remaining final hour dwindling down, you had been in your room trying to finish last minute essay writing for school, with your phone propped up on your desk and Jungkook’s livestream playing as background noise to your studying. One minute, he had been playing a round of Among Us, and the next, when you had glanced up, he had the bottle in hand and the detrimental blue dye coating his hair in slick globs. It wouldn’t have been so shocking, had you not seen Jungkook an hour ago when he had his natural dark hair still, and now he had somehow managed to sneak in bleaching his hair in the time you had left him. Maybe it was your fault for not catching it sooner, if only because you had sheepishly taken a small nap amidst your studying only to wake up to a nightmare.

Which is where that leaves you currently, dishevelled demeanour standing at the threshold of his door after chasing over to his room, watching as Taehyung helps Jungkook sufficiently ruin his beautiful hair which you love so much.

“Uh… Dyeing my hair?” Jungkook finally answers, dumbfounded. He’s fortunate he had pulled off his shirt to avoid getting hair dye on it, an old towel now draped around his shoulders to catch any excess mess. He adds brightly, “We asked for suggestions on how to end the stream and someone said I should dye my hair, so Tae got the stuff.”

“You bleached your own hair?” You retort, exasperated. “When the hell did all this happen? I’ve been next door to you the whole time! What if your hair falls out? You should’ve gotten a professional to do it, not Tae━”

Taehyung looks inexplicably offended by your slandering remarks on his (lack of) hair styling skills, retorting with, “Yo, what the━?”

Jungkook blinks, as if just being made aware of what he’s actually doing.

“My hair’s gonna fall out?” he gaps. “Guys, what the hell? Why’d no one tell me?”

He looks from you to Taehyung then over at the comments on his livestream which are currently flooding with the sole topic of you. His eyes snag the first few that appear to him in the frenzied influx of words:

uh oh jungkook’s sleeping on the floor tonight

oh shit run bro

f in the chat for jk’s hair

get him y/n!!!!

“Dude, she’s just being dramatic,” Taehyung waves you off. He ducks out of the way when you reach out to Jungkook’s bed for a pillow and chuck it at the older boy’s head.

“And when he’s bald, then what━”

“No!” A helpless Jungkook exclaims suddenly. He gestures wildly to the stream, “Don’t give them ideas. The edits are gonna start pouring in.”

“Jeon, look, it’s too late to go back now,” Taehyung says. “You’ve got half your head covered in dye and three minutes to go with the stream. How bad can it be?”

A groveling sigh eclipses your lips as you push yourself forward. “Then at least let me help before you ruin it completely.”

Jungkook’s fortunate, to say the least, though he’s left wondering if you’re truly upset with him.

He finishes the countdown to the end of his twenty-four hour stream with you and Taehyung putting the last remaining globs of dye on his hair, a heartfelt goodbye to his viewers who marathoned the stream with him, and a promise to update them on the status of his hair when he washes the dye out.

And, just as soon as he’s shut his camera off, the mundane world returns to him.

It’s no longer millions of anonymous and faceless viewers watching him from the other side of their screens in the tiny bubble that is his room, but just you and Taehyung and the older boy’s frisky little Pomeranian dog and the threat of a wallowing regret as Jungkook thinks to himself, what the hell did he truly just do to his hair?

At some point, Taehyung retreats to his girlfriend’s house taking Yeontan with him, leaving you alone with Jungkook and he basks in the sudden cozy quiet after twenty-four hours of madness as the adrenaline rush begins to fade and mellow out. Back aching, joints cracking and popping as he stretches and moves, and eyes burning in the similar way they do from having stared at a screen for too long, but tenfold, he craves nothing more than to find your sweet and comforting touch to end such a long day.

He finds you in the living room already scrolling through your phone and your Twitter feed to read and marvel at all the comments and memes made by his viewers during his stream and his heart threatens to burst through his chest because you’ve always been so supportive of him and his fans, and they’ve always adored you and your endless interactions with them. So, surely, you can’t be mad at him for bleaching and dyeing his hair. Right?

As his arms come to wrap around you from behind, face nuzzling in the crook of your neck, he hears you bemoan, “You look like a Smurf came on your head.”

Wrong.

Well, not entirely, he guesses. You do lean into his chest, practically melting against him. A sluggish grin tugs at his lips and, instead, he chooses to ask, “Shower with me?”

“Aren’t you tired, Koo?”

“Baby,” he deadpans, and your heart flutters just a little bit, “by this point, I’m running solely on Red Bull and coffee that I’m positive I could fight the gods with my bare hands and win. In fact, I’ve had so much caffeine that I’m fairly certain I’ve ascended to the astral plane. Besides, I need to wash this dye out, and I could use some help. Sleep can wait.”

“Help,” You snort. “You’re such a liar. I already know what you want.”

“To spend time with my beautiful girlfriend? You’re right.”

“I’m not sucking your dick.”

He pulls his head back to look at you. Though he tries to look offended, there’s the tiniest of smirks on his face. “Wasn’t gonna ask you!”

You turn to properly face him in his arms and shoot him a dubious glance. He leans down to press a chilling kiss to your jaw, then nudges his nose against you in the same spot so that you’ll move your head. You do so, despite your prior scolding, and let him kiss the underside of your jaw down to your neck.

“Okay, fine,” You huff finally.

You relent, miraculously, but Jungkook had already guessed you would the moment he had found you in the living room and he couldn’t be happier.

He cherishes the moments alone with you, has come to know them well as he falls into a comfortable routine with you away from prying eyes over the last few months. Because sometimes, as he comes to learn, it’s hard to establish a relationship when his job requires him to be in the spotlight often. What is authentic and what is simply fabricated for views is difficult to discern, and yet you’re patient with him. Not everything to him is money and views and numbers, or what his next big plan is, or how you could potentially help him in some way (despite knowing that any video featuring you seems to skyrocket his views and land his videos on the trending page of YouTube more often than not because he knows everyone loves you more than him). You know when he’s his online persona and when he’s simply just Jungkook, and while there’s hardly any difference between the two, his online personality surely has to maintain a level of privacy and happiness that may not always be true.

At least with you, he can just be himself. He can finally be at ease.

Showering together is just one of the many acts of normalcy he cherishes with you. So, he turns on the shower and lets the bathroom get all warm and balmy as you undress. He’s the first one inside, hissing in delight as he lets the water run over his sore muscles, washing out the dye in his hair firstly so as not to get it on you and fortunately not making too much of a mess of blue dye in the tub. You’ve joined him in an instant when he’s nearly done, squeezing into the space in front of him as you shut the glass door behind you, the pane already beginning to fog and slick with droplets of condensation. He pulls you into him once more, nestling his chin on your shoulder as his hands come to wrap around you. They slide across your front, all wet and soapy, briefly gliding across your breasts, palms brushing against your nipples before traveling down to your navel.

“Congrats, baby,” You coo gently. “Twenty-four hours.”

He murmurs into your hair, “Missed you loads though.”

You turn to look at him finally, and it’s hard not to stare. Your eyes land firstly on his abdomen and the toned muscles there, trailing up to his arm and the pretty tattoos that decorate every inch of his skin, to his soft pink lips and his big eyes. Then, there’s the matter of his hair. The water has done most of the work in washing out the dye from his hair, now falling across his forehead and into his eyes and cheekbones, and it’s only then that you fully register the dye has worked as you struggle to find any remnants of his once-ebony-then-blonde locks. The blue hair is an obvious stark contrast to his natural hair and, you think, it is pretty, accentuating his radiant skin and making his eyes pop.

“I didn’t think you were actually serious all those times you said you wanted to change your hair.” Your lips are pursed as you survey him now, your fingers twirling a strand of his tresses around and around as you inspect it.

He smiles, catching your hand and pressing a quick peck to your knuckles. “Neither did I,” he admits sheepishly. “It sort of just happened.”

You pout. “I’m gonna miss your natural hair.”

“Do you really hate it blue?”

“I don’t hate it. Was more scared you’d ruin your pretty hair and make it all fall out.”

At this, Jungkook flashes you a cheeky smile. He holds his head a little higher. “So you still think my hair is pretty?”

“I think you’re a dork,” You clarify. “And, aside from the fact you almost gave me a heart attack, I’d say the blue is so pretty. Beyond pretty. Kinda hot, if I’m being honest.”

Because you’re not really mad, but it’s fun just to tease Jungkook and see his reactions. At the very least, he can sense this, as it’s apparent with the way his smile stretches even wider on his face.

“Hot, huh?”

“Mhm. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

He feigns a look of mock hurt. “Oh no. You must be really mad. Want me to make it up to you?”

“How are you gonna do that?”

“Well, what do you want from me?”

You take a moment to think it over, but the answer is already obvious enough. It’s one that even he knows, and one that has won you over the moment Jungkook was freed from his stream. You hum aloud, “You, on your knees, head between my legs, like a good boy. Think I can get a better viewpoint of your hair from down there anyway before I judge it.”

“Like a good boy?” A dark smirk tugs at his face. “So now who’s the needy one?”

He lowers his head so that he’s leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses down your neck to your collarbones. As you let yourself get carried away for a moment, you wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him backwards until you’re pressed up against the glass door. He ducks even lower, kissing just above your left breast and then catching your nipple between his teeth. You swallow thickly, rubbing your thighs together, reminding yourself to respond to him.

“It’s not my fault when you were busy for the past day,” You pout. “And the blue hair really is sexy.”

“Aha!” he straightens up in front of you suddenly, a crooked smug smile on his face. “So I’m not just hot. I’m sexy.”

“You’re literally always sexy. And beautiful too. It’s almost unfair.”

“That’s even better.”

You tug your fingers at his damp locks. When you speak, your voice is a mix between urgency and a whine. “Jungkook. I could’ve already gotten off with my hand at this point.”

“Ouch, feisty!” He pokes his fingers at your sides. Then, nipping a little more firmly on the soft skin of your breast, murmurs huskily, “Alright, alright. But only if you call me a good boy again.”

Part of him is taunting you, but there’s a small sliver of intrigue that makes the thought in his head and the pretty words on your tongue excite him to no end.

Still, you choose to entertain him, maybe a little drowsily and entirely consumed by him, “I will if you let me ride your face.”

A rumble of a chuckle resonates from him. You find him on his knees in the next moment, wedging himself between your thighs. He nudges one of your legs and you follow the wordless command, hitching one thigh over his shoulder as you settle back against the glass door of the shower. He kisses at your hips as he dips his head lower and lower to where you want him, before swiping his tongue at your cunt, tasting all of you at once.

“Mmm, Koo━” A soft whimper sounds from you, making his head swim.

He wastes no time in lapping at your folds, tongue delving into you deeper and deeper as he cranes his neck. The wetness that pools between your legs and on the tip of his tongue is a sticky mess that he basks in just a little longer.

“Fuck,” he groans into your pussy, “you taste so fucking good. Missed this so much.”

His hands are big as they come to hold you close, cradling your ass, your thighs, your hips, anything to pull you into him while simultaneously pushing your thighs further apart.

You manage to find your voice and quip weakly, “Missed me or having your head between my legs?”

“You, definitely,” he murmurs. He busies himself by reaching out with his thumb to press circles against your clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, hips rutting into his face. “All of you.”

“Jungkook━ Fuck━”

He burrows further into you, humming in response. His nose brushes against your clit, the muscle of his tongue a pleasant wet that makes you warm all over. You give another experimental swivel of your hips, grinding against his tongue just right. He pinches at your hips as if to probe you onward, and then you do it again, and again, desperately rocking your hips back and forth against him. Your fingers reach out to grab a fistful of his hair, clutching it so tightly he hisses. But you’re right. The blue locks look dazzling between your legs, being pulled by your hands as you push him further into you.

His eyes meet yours from below your waist, hooded and idle, enjoying the view as you squirm and writhe above him, shamelessly riding his face. Grinding against his chin, nose, and tongue, the slick wetness you leave behind glistens on his skin.

“Ah, Koo━” You cry out. “Fuck, I’m gonna━!”

Your orgasm hits you violently, sending you keeling. Your hips continue with reckless abandon, and Jungkook presses his finger against your clit a little harder, a little faster. The abrupt gushing warmth between your thighs sends your mind spinning, as the steam from the shower and your panting breaths begin to fog the bathroom. When your hips begin to slow, Jungkook laps at the rest of your leaking core before pulling away with a grin brandishing his shimmering face. He lets you pull him up eagerly, clumsy hands fumbling to hold either side of his face as you tug at him.

“God, you’re so hot, babe,” he sighs wistfully, smothering your lips with his for an all too chaste kiss, before leaning in once more to nibble at your lower lip.

“Wanna feel you, Koo,” You prompt urgently. “Want you in me.”

Jungkook hastens to comply, his hands falling to your waist. “Go on, then. Turn around for me.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You spin so that you’re facing the glass sliding door, your back to him. You watch him over your shoulder, momentarily admiring his well built stature, the tattoos that ink his body, and the water that shimmers on his skin. He has to push his wet hair up and away when it falls across his forehead and then he reaches down to grasp at his length, grip tight around his shaft so that he can pump himself sluggishly a few short times. It’s almost painful to watch him jerk himself off in front of you, the tip a burning red and glistening. He catches you staring and decides to catch you off guard when he grabs a hold of your hips with one hand. He yanks you towards him, your ass pressed firmly against his hips, making you jump from the startle, and grins when you look back at him.

Then, ever so slowly, he runs the length of his cock along your folds. Before you can brace yourself for the overwhelming rush of pleasure, he’s sliding his cock past your folds, burrowing into you deep. He curses behind you, his other hand flying out to steady himself by digging into your hip.

“Fffuck. Shit.” He dips his head so that his cheek is resting against your shoulder and sputters for air. “Jesus, fuck━ Been dying to feel you all day.”

He fits so snugly in you, so perfectly, just like always and you take him so well, coaxed by your own arousal. He ruts his hips forward into yours and you nearly fall forward before catching yourself by pressing your palms to the glass. Then, he’s grinding against you, small and precise thrusts that roll into your hips.

“Mmm, Jungkook,” you choke out. “You feel so━ So good.”

“Ah, shit,” he hisses. “Wanna wreck you so bad.”

He angles his chest a little more, pummels his dick into you in such a way that he’s hitting a different spot in you. His eyes stay fixated on the soft, round flesh of your ass and the way his cock slips so easily into you, brows screwed in concentration, jaw clenched. The slight bounce of your ass each time he rolls his hips firmly against you, the way you ricochet forward each time in tandem with his moves. You bow your head, pressing your temple against the glass door now tinted with condensation, only marked up by the imprints of your fingers grasping at anything. It’s almost sweltering hot in the shower now but you both pay no mind to it. He fucks into you with such languid, steady strides, cock beginning to throb and twitch in anticipation. You feel so wet, such a pitiless mess between your thighs already that it makes him growl.

“H-Harder,” You mewl. “Oh, Koo━”

He almost slips behind you in his eagerness to obey, awakening something animalistic in him, a yearning to just release all the tension in his core. This time, he adapts a measured pace, forceful thrusts that have you crying out in delight each time. One hand reaches up to grip at your shoulder to steady himself while his other slithers around your front to grasp at your breasts, all wet and supple, pinching at your nipples.

“So good,” he moans, pressing sloppy kisses just below your ear. His breath is hot as he pants behind you, sending tingles down your spine. “Fuck━”

His voice is cut off by a whine, hips bucking forward in an unsolicited manner as he feels his high drawing near. You lean your head onto his shoulder, stretching your arm out so that you can tug desperately at his hair. It’s a silent, simple command, but it’s one that he immediately understands even without you speaking.

“Wanna feel you━” You whimper. “Wanna see you.”

Jungkook nearly slips as he fumbles to pull out of you, hissing at the loss of warmth and friction. As soon as you’ve turned to face him, he wastes no time in closing the distance between you. He pushes his leaking cock past your folds once more and continues at the same pace as if he had never even stopped to begin with.

“Fuck,” he whines. “Not gonna last━”

You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him even closer to you, as he presses you against the glass. He hitches one of your thighs around his waist, spreading your legs just wide enough to hit a certain spot that has both of you crying out. You’re clinging so tightly to him, fingers digging harshly into his skin in an attempt to alleviate the building pressure you feel. He knows you’ve almost reached your end when you resort to a gasping, moaning mess, writhing beneath his broad stature.

“Close, baby?” he hums.

You open your mouth to respond but can only muster a whimper. His pace treads over to heedlessly frantic, the sound of skin against skin and the lewd wetness filling the shower. Despite his hips pounding into yours so harshly, his fingers flutter so delicately under your chin, grasping it and moving your head just enough so that you’re facing him.

“Lemme see you,” he grunts. “Wanna watch you when you cum all over my cock. Always so pretty.”

“I━ I’m━ Fuck, Koo━”

But you can’t finish your thought.

You keep your gaze fixated on Jungkook’s, however exhausted and weary it may be. Your lashes flutter, brows knit together, and you suck your lower lip between your teeth, biting so hard Jungkook’s certain you’ll bruise it. Another few hard thrusts and then you’re reaching your high, overcome by such an intense burning that you can’t help but look away out of instinct. You cry his name, face contorting in pure pleasure, and chest arching to meet his. You’re clenching so tightly around him has him sputtering for air, nearly collapsing entirely against you. You’re near dripping around his cock which only means he almost slips from you with each draw of his hips that he makes. It’s why he sloppily rocks his hips into yours, desperate to reach his own high as well.

When you return to your senses, blinking away your blurry vision, you can make out Jungkook cooing into your ear, “That’s it, baby. Doing so well.”

You meet his gaze once more, only this time you’re perhaps even more tired. Hooded eyes watch him, silently probing him to his climax. He comes tumbling towards it, a few more short thrusts of his hips and, finally, he’s there. He slams his hips up into yours one final time, crying out, and then he’s releasing into you in an overwhelming abrupt gush. Only he can’t quite enjoy it because, out of genuine accident and driven by impatience to just get off, the last jerk of his hips hits you a little too hard.

It’s what causes you to slip backward and he, so lost in his own reverie, hardly has a proper grip on you or where he’s standing. When you lose your footing beneath you, slipping on the wet porcelain of the tub, and comes crashing down, he’s brought along with you. “Oh, fuck━!”

The both of you yelp from the surprise, your hands flailing out to brace yourself for the fall.

Fortunately, you land on him when you reach the bottom of the tub, courtesy of him grabbing onto you last second so that he can soften the blow upon impact.

Unfortunately, the breath is knocked out of him from the startle and from the sudden added weight of you on top of him with no warning.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groans.

“In hindsight,” You wince as you shift your weight above him, “maybe having sex in the shower again wasn’t the greatest idea. Remember last time when we knocked the shower curtain down and I had to get stitches on my elbow? It’s why we got the glass door installed, and then we had to lie to Tae about it.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” He tilts his head back, rubbing a hand over his face. Then, he flashes you an all too charming smirk. “Was kinda worth it though.”

You giggle, sounding so sweet and angelic, even despite the way his cum still leaks from you. Somewhere in the fall, his dick had slipped from you and now lays softening on his stomach which, really, is probably the worst part of the accident to him. He already misses the warmth of you wrapped around him, your mingling cum a dirty mess around him. You prop yourself up on his chest with your palms, but before you can even think to respond, you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

A small mass of fur in the shape of little Yeontan has just poked his head through the crack in the door, oblivious to you and Jungkook’s compromising position. And then, shortly following behind him, is his equally oblivious owner who must have forgotten something in the apartment to bring him back so suddenly.

“Tannie, get back here━ We gotta go━ Oh, Jesus, what the fuck?” Taehyung appears at the door for a millisecond before noticing the situation he’s just stumbled upon. Thankfully, he acts fast, and clamps a hand over his tainted eyes, clumsily scooping up Yeontan in his other hand. “Can you guys please stop fucking all over this damn apartment? My son’s eyes are too pure for this!”

And then he’s retreating, but not before bumping blindly into the doorframe, grumbling along the way. It’s silent for a moment as you and Jungkook gawk at one another; then you hear Taehyung leave the apartment once more, and the both of you dissolve into a fit of unabashed laughter.

“Are you okay?” You ask once you’ve calmed down enough as he reaches out to shut the shower off. You plant a kiss in your boyfriend’s hair. “You hit your head coming down.”

Jungkook’s heart swells at your gentle touches and smiles. “I’m fine,” he promises brightly. “You?”

“Well, you did just thoroughly fuck me, so━” You shrug innocently. “I’m kinda still too giddy to even care.”

“I’m gonna make it up to you,” he says. “For almost giving you a heart attack with my hair and for almost putting you in the emergency room again just now.”

The mention of his hair draws your attention to it once more. It’s not as wet as before, damp azure waves falling into his eyes that you brush away gingerly.

“Yeah,” You snort, “but I’ve decided I like your hair. Like, really like it.”

“Yeah?” he grins wide. “What was the deciding factor?”

You pause, as if to think for a moment. Exhaustion riddles your body and you know sleeping curled up next to Jungkook is nearing your future, but for now you let yourself entertain the last remnants of whatever lewd thoughts are still on yours and his minds before they fizzle away completely. You can’t help yourself anyway. The blue really is nice.

“Definitely the view of you eating me out,” You say. “And can’t forget how pretty it looks when I’m pulling at your hair.”

“Say no more,” he beams. “Then I’ll make it up to you by making you cum on my tongue again and again and again.”

The last thing he hears before he grabs at your cheek to softly pull you down to him for one last kiss, slow and ardent, is a bubbly giggle from you that delights him to no end.

“That’s a good boy.”

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[writing-blog-iguess]

Harley Quinn

Summery: The batfamily hears three stories about batmom and Harley. How they met, how they started dating, and how they ended.

Warning: fluff, angst.

A/N: This bish is 4847 words. I did not mean to write that much.

Man, the amount of love I got from Stories...I'm so happy people enjoyed it. So, I hope you enjoy this one just as much.

Feedback is welcome! And feel free to let me know who or what kind of story of Batmom you want to see next.

-------

There were only two weeks left of summer, and she wanted to move onto campus as soon as possible. But her friend, Selina, had made it a little difficult for her. On the first day the campus was allowing their students to come, Selina had come over and stopped her from packing. And they spent the day together shopping, seeing a movie and eating. Selina ended up crashing at her place after they had binged a show.

When she started packing the next day, Selina did the same. But after a promise of hanging out when she was settled in her dorms, Selina conceded and helped with the packing. And after some whining and pizza, Selina came with her to campus to help as well.

Struggling to keep the heavy box in her hands, she made her way towards her dorm. “You can help me, you know,” she grunted, shifting the box as it was slipping out of her arms.

“I am,” Selina said, holding up a couple of garbage bags full of clothes. “My hands are just full to help you carry your box.”

“You’re funny,” she deadpanned. Selina flashed her a smile, to which she returned one of her own.

“And that’s why you love me.”

“No, no I don’t think that’s it,” she mused, looking at each dorm number. “I think I love your cat more. And that’s why we’re friends.”

Selina gasped mockingly, and bumped her shoulder. “I knew it!” She laughed just as she found her dorm room.

Fishing out her key from her pocket, she handed it to Selina and waited until Selina opened the door. The minute she walked through the door, she was eloped in a hug. It caught her by surprise that she dropped the box she was holding.

“Hiya! I’m your new roommate!”

“And they were roommates,” Dick gasped out, interrupting the story.

“Oh my god, they were roommates,” Tim finished, and three out of the four boys burst out laughing.

“You two are hilarious,” she said, slumping into her chair. They had just finished dinner when the boys started bombarding her with questions about her and Harley. And after teasing them a little about which story. She started with how she met her ex-fiancé.

“Are you two done?” Bruce asked, and the laughter slowly downed a little. Until they caught each other’s eyes, and it started again.

Damian rolled his eyes, and turned to his mother. “I didn’t know you and Selina were in a relationship,” he said, and that had caused Dick, Jason and Tim to stop and look at her.

“No, no we weren’t dating,” she answered, shaking her head. “I didn’t know my sexuatilty until I started dating Harley.”

“And how long did that take?” Jason asked, rolling his cup on the table.

She blew out a puff of air and sighed. “When we were twenty-one. Even then I needed help.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard this one,” Bruce said with a smile. She flushed in embarrassment and looked away before recalling the story.

——

“Pumpkin,” her roommate sang from the other side of the room. She hummed, blinking at her homework trying to keep awake. She was currently laying on her stomach with her chin sitting on her hand. “Maybe you should take a break. You’ve been at it for hours.”

“Pft, I’m fine,” she answered, though the words were starting to blur together. “Hey!” she said, as Harley yanked the book from her. “I need that.”

“And you need a break,” she pressed, closing the book with a snap. “Come on Pumpkin, let’s get something to eat.”

She pouted trying to grab her textbook. Harley giggled and held it out of her reach. “Harley,” she whined, “the test I'm studying for is supposed to cost half of my grade.”

“You should know that taking care of your body is more important than school, doctor,” Harley teased. She stuck her tongue out, causing Harley to poke it. “Come on, we’ll go to your favourite café.”

She lit up and quickly got out of bed, almost tripping on her feet doing so. Harley laughed and tossed the book onto the bed. “You gotta be more careful, pumpkin.” She made a face, and grabbed her stuff before the two of them left their apartment.

She looped her arm through Harley’s as they walked. Talking about everything and nothing that came to mind. On occasion, she would check her phone, hoping for any messages from Bruce. But there were none.

She hasn’t spoken to Bruce since the last time they hung out, and she wondered if it was something that she did. Though the thought was ridiculous. They’ve only met up a handful of times since he’d been back. And even then, she couldn’t think of a reason why he was avoiding her.

The only thing she could think of was their first conversation they had together. But that was back when he first arrived in Gotham.

Bruce had found the apartment she was sharing with Harley, and decided to pay her a visit before the tabloids caught wind of him being back.

It had caught her by surprise when Harley called, saying there was a billionaire holding pizza. Confused on what she meant, she rounded the corner to find Bruce Wayne standing in her hallway.

After giving him a hug, and a little catch up, the three of you spent the night hanging out. And it felt like nothing had changed between the two of you.

It wasn’t until Harley had gone to bed, that Bruce told you everything that happened since leaving Gotham when he was fourteen. He told you how his training had gone, and all the people he’s met.

It was one thing reading about them through Bruce’s letters. But it was a different experience hearing them from Bruce. When he had finished, he told her it was time to start fixing Gotham his way.

With a sigh, she had hoped that he had changed his mind. Instead of talking him out of it, she suggested waiting a little bit before doing so. Make Bruce Wayne into a public figure, or more then he already is. And then have his second persona make an appearance. Only so people didn’t connect that the two were related.

That had been two months ago. And sure, she’s been busy with school and midterms were just around the corner, and Bruce was busy running a company and….well, being a playboy from what she’s read in magazines. She didn’t read the articles, it hurt a little reading them.

And he was also busy with being Batman. She laughed at the name the media had dubbed him, it almost made her call him up just to tease him about it. But she refrained from doing so. She was unsure where she fit in his new life, and at this point she was too afraid of the answer to ask.

When they arrived at the café, she found a table for them while Harley ordered.

Harley looked over the rim of the coffee cup in her hand when her friend sighed again. “You’re in love with Bruce!” Harley accused.

She dropped her bagel on her plate and stared at Harley in shock. “I am not!”

“You totally are! You keep checking your phone like your love sick, waiting for someone to call you.”

“I am not in love with Bruce,” she stuttered out, “why would I be? He left to go to school abroad, and shows up eight years later! And so what if I thought about him during those years, and was worried about him. That’s what friends do, they worry about them. It’s not like I noticed how much he’s changed or dream about holding his hand or...or kissing him or…or...” she trailed off as she thought back to all the times her heart hammered in her chest when he smiled at her.

Or all the times Bruce made her blush. She thought back to how she smiled when she saw Bruce’s letter in the mail, or how happy she felt as she read them. Or how relieved she felt when she saw Bruce in her apartment or how hurt she was when she saw him with different girls every night.

Then she thought about all that when she was with Harley. Could she be in love with Harley too? But she quickly dismissed it, thinking it wasn’t possible.

She slumped into her chair as Harley set her mug down, and smirked at her in satisfaction. “Holy hell, I’m in love with Bruce Wayne.”

“There it is,” Harley said, giggling as she received a glare. “You’ve known Bruce since you guys were little, how is it only now that you're realizing this?”

“I don’t…” she trailed off, hands picking up her cup. She twirled it around the table as she tried to come up with the right words, “I’m not...when I can’t pick up the cues when it comes to stuff like that.”

“So someone has to tell you that they love you. Like your parents loving you,” Harley mused, she shrugged.

“I know they do and I can see that they love me. But for whatever reason, when it comes to romantic feelings, I have a blind eye,” she explained, letting the cup go in favour of pulling apart her muffin. She huffed out a laugh. “It’s funny. Back in high school there was this guy who asked me out on a date. But he didn’t use those words, he used ‘wanna hang out?’

“I said yes. It wasn’t until he kissed me that it was starting to click. Even then I didn’t fully understand. Selina told me what it was that I knew. I was so embarrassed I couldn‘t face him. I feel like there’s something wrong with me.”

Harley leaned over and took her hands, she stilled her hands and her eyes flitted up to Harley. And her heart stuttered as Harley looked at her. “Nothing’s wrong with you pumpkin. People process things differently, you just happen to need someone to tell you.”

Relief washed over her and she smiled. “Thanks, Hars.” Harley hummed and leaned back, letting go of her hand. She missed the warmth of Haley’s hands, but didn’t think anything of it, especially when she noticed a twinkle in Harley's eyes.

“So, are you going to tell Brucie?” Harley teased, she made a face and shook her head.

“No, I will not,” she said.

“But he might love you back!” Harley exclaimed, “pumpkin, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He looks at you like you hung the moon every night.”

“Even if that’s true, I don’t think it’ll work. At least not right now,” she mumbled, and quickly added when Haley gave her a confused look, “he’s not interested in anything serious right now.”

Harley nodded in understanding, and she looked away when she saw pity in Harley's eyes.

That weekend, she found herself in the school library with Harley and Jonathan doing homework. Harley had just left for drinks, leaving the two of them alone.

Jonathan looked up from his homework and studied his friend. She hunched over her books and tapped her pencil on her head as she was going over a question.

“Are you and Harley dating?” Jonathan blurted out. She froze and lifted her head to look at him in surprise.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at her reaction, and stifled a laugh. “I think you heard me.”

“Oh I heard. But what made you come to that conclusion?” she clarified, squinting her eyes at him.

“The way you two act around each other,” he explained, “you're all in love and shit. It’s a wonder you haven’t kissed yet.”

“I don’t….but I can’t….” she trailed off. The words weren’t coming and she wasn’t quite sure if she did or not. “Friends can act like that platonically!”

“That’s true. But with you two, it’s hard to tell. You both have heart eyes every time you either talk about each other, or just being in the same room.”

She stayed quiet, she didn’t have anything to say.

“You know, when Harley told me you process feelings differently than most people, I thought she was joking,” he mused, this time chuckling.

“It’s great to know you talk about me,” she deadpanned, setting down her pencil.

“But I’m serious, do you like her or not?” he asked, and she let her head drop on her textbook and groaned.

“I don’t know. The other day, Harley helped me discover I’m in love with my childhood best friend. And now you're making me question my feelings for Harley.”

Jonathan held up his hands in surrender, though she wasn’t paying attention. “Wasn’t my intent, I just figured you needed to know.”

“Thanks,” she said dryly, and lifted her hand and flipped him off. He laughed and gently patted her head.

“I’ll ask a question or two, maybe it’ll help.”

She nodded but kept her head on the table. Jonathan's smile grew wider, enjoying this a little bit too much.

“When you see her, what do you do?”

She took a moment to ponder the question. “My heart starts to beat faster and I can’t help but think how pretty she is. And I get all flustered when she gets really close or she gives me a compliment. And when she’s happy and smiling and laughing, and my butterflies explode in my stomach when that happens because I did that. And sometimes, when she’s pouting or just sad, I just want to pull her into a kiss.”

Jonathan raised an eye at her statement, and had no doubt that she was blushing. “What about Bruce?”

“The same thing! He winks my way and the next thing I know I’m a blushing mess. And when he gives me a certain look, it’s like I gave him everything and I melt and just want to kiss his stupid face! And I hate him for that, but not really and….hhhhh!”

“Damn,” Jonathan huffed out, staring at her. “You have it bad for both of them.”

“But I can’t love two people at once!” she exclaimed, getting shushed by other students. She paid them no mind, head racing on what she should do.

“Who says?” Jonathan asked, and she paused to think about it. “There's no rule saying you have to like one person at the time,” he continued when she didn’t answer. “Now the question is who are you going to pick? Bruce or Harley?”

“What if they both don’t love me?” she whispered, lifting her head up slightly. “What if it’s all in my head and they laugh if I tell them?”

“I don’t know about Bruce, but Harley won’t,” he answered, going back to his homework, “trust me.”

She spent the next week pondering over her conversations with Harley and Jonathan. And there were a few things she’s discovered.

She’s bisexual.

She’s really bad at feelings and seeing them for what they are. Though this wasn’t anything new, still she hated that she needed help when it comes to emotions.

If she did choose Bruce over Harley, it wouldn’t have worked out. Not only because of him being Batman, but because she didn’t see it as a long term relationship. And she didn’t want that.

And if she chose Harley over Bruce, she didn’t want to make Harley feel like she was second pick. She didn’t want that either.

By the weekend, she still doesn’t know what to do.

Sighing, she fell on her bed. She stared at the ceilings and groaned, pressing her palms to her eyes. “Why is this hard?”

“I don’t know pumpkin, maybe I can help?” Harley suggested, startling her. She sat up quickly and turned to see Harley leaning against the doorframe.

“Help me with what?” she asked, nervously laughing. Harley smiled and walked further in the room.

“Whatever you’re having trouble with,” Harley answered.

She sighed and fell onto the bed again, she took a pillow and hugged it to her chest. “I don’t think this is something you can help with,” she mumbled, closing her eyes.

She felt the bed dip, and felt Harley shift around until she stopped. “I could listen to you rant about it?”

She hummed, but shook her head. “It’s something I need to figure out.”

Silence fell around them as she thought. Harley brought her hand over her face and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. She tensed at the sudden touch, but soon relaxed into it.

“Does it have something to do with what you and Jonathan were talking about last week?” Harley asked after a moment.

Her eyes flew open and she stared at Harley, panicking a little. If Harley knew, there’s nothing she could say that wouldn’t be a lie.

“But I…did he tell you?” she asked, Harley nodded. She groaned and stuffed her face into the mattress. “Damnit.”

Harley giggled and slowly moved her face so they could look at each other. “If it helps any, I love you too.”

She flushed, and looked anywhere but Harley. “But I don’t want to make you feel like a second choice. I don’t want you to resent me because you know I love Bruce too.”

“Hey I won’t,” Harley reassured. Biting her lip, she shook her head. Harley sighed, and moved to press her forehead against hers. “Can I tell you a secret? I loved you before I knew you loved Bruce, and I still love you knowing that. I just hope you can give me a chance.”

She studied Harley for a moment before closing the distance and kissed her.

——

“Ew! Mom! Gross! We don’t need to hear about that!” Dick interrupted. She looked up to see her boys looking at her in disgust. Jason and Tim gagged mockingly as Dick shuddered.

“What? It was just a kiss,” she answered, amused.

“Yeah but you kissed Harley. And that means you’ve done more than kissing,” Jason said.

“You knew this when your father told you I was engaged to her.”

“It’s one thing thinking about it, it’s a whole different thing to hear it from you, Mom,” Tim said, leaning back into his chair.

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Shrugging, she picked up her glass and took a sip.

“So Harley figured out you loved me before you did? And this after meeting me once,” Bruce asked, amused. She felt her cheeks burn and looked away.

“Wasn’t my proudest moment, but yes she did,” she said with a shrug.

“And she was okay with it?”

She nodded, smiling a little at the memory. “Yeah. She didn’t seem to mind too much about it. But I didn’t spend too much time being hung up on Bruce. I was too busy with Har-”

“Ma!” Jason exclaimed, stopping her from finishing the sentence.

“I wasn’t even going to say anything bad!” she defended.

“You went to school with Crane?” Damian asked. She turned her attention to the youngest and nodded.

“We had a few classes together, and Harley just sort of adopted him into the friend group,” she mused.

“What I can’t get over, is the fact that Crane had to tell you about your feelings for Harley,” Dick put out.

“Like I said, I have a hard time deciphering emotions. Especially when it comes to romantic feelings. But once I know, then I’m okay.”

“How long were you together before getting engaged?” Damian asked, though it was still hard to believe his mother had someone before Bruce.

“And who popped the question?”

She looked at the clock and back to the boys. “Doesn't the patrol start soon?” she asked. The boys looked at Bruce with their best puppy eyes. Well, Dick, Jason and Tim did, Damian seemed indifferent but Bruce could tell he wanted to hear the story as well.

“If it’s okay with your mother, we can listen to one more story,” he said, and she raised an eyebrow at her husband. “What?”

“And I thought I couldn’t say no,” she said with a mumble.

“Shut up,” he said, but smiled slightly.

“So Ma, what’s the story?”

Her hand went up to her necklace and started playing with it as she thought back. “We’ve been together for almost eight years before I asked her.”

——

She fell on the couch once she got home from the hospital. It had been a taxing day, and all she wanted to do was curl up with Harley and sleep until the morning. But they had dinner plans they needed to get to, and if everything turned out as planned, she and Harley would be engaged.

Over the years of dating, conversation of marriage would come up. Whether it be just then asking about it, or their friends. They both wanted it, but they silently agreed that they wouldn’t take it seriously until they both finished school.

Harley had already finished her last year of residency, and she was one you last year. Granted, she still had a month left, but she figured it would still count.

“Pumpkin, I’m home,” Harley called as she walked in.

“Living room,” she answered back. A moment later, Harley walked in the room and plopped beside her. Harley laid her head on her lap and sighed as she ran her fingers through her hair. “Tiring day?”

Harley nodded and closed her eyes. “I know we had plans to go out, but can we stay in? Arkham really took me out.”

She scrunched her nose, her hands stopped moving. “I thought you didn’t start there until next week?”

“I did, but something happened with the inmates,” Harley answered.

“And they needed a psychiatrist?”

“Apparently some of the inmates needed help and they couldn’t wait until next week,” Harley said, and sighed happily when she resumed playing with Harley’s hair. “So can we stay in?”

“Yeah, we can. We can order take out and watch a movie or something,” she mused, trying to think of a new plan. “What do you want?”

“Chinese.”

She smiled and reached over, grabbing her phone and ordering food. Once finished, she set the phone before turning back to Harley. She stared at her loving, watching as Harley was slowly falling asleep.

“You’re staring,” Harley mumbled with a smile.

“I can’t help, you’re just too gorgeous to look at anything else,” she teased. Harley blushed and snuggled into her legs.

“Shut up.”

Thinking it’s the perfect time, she went for it. “Marry me?” Harley’s eyes flew open, and she quickly sat down and looked at her.

“What?”

“Marry me,” she repeated, smiling at the bewildered look Harley was giving her. “I know we talked about it a few times. And since I have a month left of residency, I figured why not. So, marry me?”

Harley looked at her for a minute before smiling widely, and threw her arms around her, laughing. “Of course I will, pumpkin!” Harley said, kissing her all over her face.

And just like that they were engaged.

As the months went by, they planned a wedding. They had decided who was going to be in the wedding party, where the venue would be, and who was going to cater for them. They just needed to book everything, but they weren’t going to do so until they picked out the wedding day.

And for a while everything was perfect. Up until Harley started seeing Joker as a patient. She didn’t see it, not a first. She took it as Harley having bad days or long tiring days at Arkham. And with doctor patient confidentiality, Harley couldn’t talk about their problems.

But Harley could tell her how the day went. If it was bad, she’d drop it and offer to make Harley's favourite foods.

Then Harley started to become distant. She would come home later than normal, and would snap for no reason. She had tried to get Harley to talk to her, but she wouldn’t. She kept saying she was fine and it had been a long day. It was worrying.

All at once, it stopped. Harley stopped talking to her, and stopped coming home.

She was out of her mind, worrying for Harley. She hoped her fiancée would come home. It was to the point that she went out and looked for Harley.

But Bruce had stopped her before she could leave the apartment.

She had found him waiting in her living room after a long shift at the hospital. It had startled her seeing Bruce dressed as Batman standing there, he cowl down.

She was about to greet him, but the sad, pitied expression Bruce had stopped her. “No, don’t…don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step forward, she stepped back. “But something happened to Harley.”

She shook her head frantically, covering her mouth with her hands. “Nononono, she can’t have…please,” she begged, as Bruce wrapped her into a hug when he was close enough.

“I’m sorry, but Joker got into her head,” he started, tightening his grip as she choked back a sob. “Convinced her that they were meant for each other. Made her fall in the chemicals he fell into. She’s alive, but she isn’t Harley anymore. Not the one you knew anyways.”

She broke down crying before Bruce finished his sentence. She clung to him like a lifeline as the words sunk in.

She expected to hear that Harley died, that someone had killed her. Not this. But this? This was so much worse.

——

A heavy silence fell once she finished. She was clutching the ring that was threaded on a chain. It helped keep the tears at bay. She didn’t want to cry, not now, not after so many years.

“The next day, Bruce told me the full story,” she whispered, and grimaced as the fight flashed before her. “We fought. Okay, I yelled and he just took him. I said some things I shouldn’t have and I avoided him for a while.”

“I remember that,” Dick said, leaning onto the table. “Bruce looked heartbroken during that time. And every time I tried to ask what happened, he shut me down. Even at gala’s when you were there, he looked like he wanted to go and talk to you.”

Bruce looked at him in surprise. Dick was only eight when that happened, he didn’t think he was paying attention.

On the other hand, she felt guilt crawling in her stomach, and slouched into her chair. She hid her face in her hands when Dick continued.

“That falling out thing happened for a few years, didn’t it?” he asked. She opted to stay quiet, letting Bruce answer the question.

“Three or four years, yeah.”

Tim was about to ask what had happened, but Jason nudged him and shook his head. Tim gave him a look, and Jason gestured to their mom, practically saying I don’t think she wants to talk about it.

“Sorry for bringing up the past Ummi,” Damian said softly. “We didn’t know.”

Rubbing her face to get rid of stray tears, she dropped her hands onto the table. “That’s okay sweetie. I wouldn’t have told you anything if it still hurts.”

“So, how’d you fix your friendship with Bruce?” Jason asked. She shook her head and stood.

“Bruce can tell you,” she said, stretching, “I have the night shift tonight. And I need to get ready.”

With that she left her boys staring at Bruce, waiting.

“It’s time for patrol,” he gruffed out and followed his wife. The boys groaned, saying that wasn’t fair.

“Are you okay?” he asked when he reached their bedroom. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her quickly change and grabbed her stuff before pausing. She clutched her keys and sighed.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” she sighed, dropping her shoulders. “After ten years, it still hurts. Not as much as it did, but still.”

Bruce nodded, and pushed off the frame and wrapped his arms around her. Holding her close. “I’m sorry again for everything.”

“You know I don’t blame you anymore, you don’t need to apologize for it.”

“Feels like I have too. You don’t deserve to have gone through that.”

“No one does but life sucks that way,” she said, giving him a smile. “I have to go.”

Bruce frowned, tightening his hold a little. “I wish you didn’t.”

“I’m a doctor Bruce, but I’ll be careful,” she said, reaching up to kiss him. “You be careful too tonight.” He nodded and dropped his arms and watched as she left the room.

“I love you,” he called. She popped her head back in and smiled.

“I love you too.”

Running out of the manor and to her car, she didn’t notice a figure standing in the distance. Harley signed as she watched, glad that her ex-lover found happiness again. And promised she’d do whatever it took to keep it that way.

[supernovafics]

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐒

pairing: ransom drysdale x fem!reader

summary: in which a series of unfortunate events led you to living with your best friend, ransom drysdale. and now it has been seven months and aside from minor miscommunications, everything was going pretty great with the unexpected living arrangement. however, a certain phone call has the power to change all of that.  

warnings: explicit language, mentions of smut, some angst, soft!ransom (but he’s an asshole at some points), drunkenness, parent issues 

word count: 3.9k words

author’s note: first time writing something ransom related and also first time posting something in what feels like forever lmao i just started my third year of college so things have been a lil chaotic lately. but i hope you all enjoy this!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When you heard the front door slam shut, followed by the sound of elated giggles, you knew you should’ve gone to the library to study for your Criminal Law exam. Mainly because you knew exactly what sounds would come next.

You had lived with Ransom Drysdale long enough, and had known him even longer, to know where things were about to lead with the latest conquest he had just brought to the apartment. And to say that you really didn’t want to hear what would be coming next would be an understatement; you hated that the walls in the apartment were so damn thin.

Therefore, once you heard Ransom’s room door shut, you did not hesitate to close your notebook and textbook, packing both things away and proceeding to leave the apartment. You made sure to slam the door on your way out so that he knew how annoyed you were.

You were on the phone with your friend before you even made it to the stairwell.

“Hi, is the invitation to study together still open?” You asked when Liana answered the call. From the moment you started law school, only about four months ago, you and Liana became friends almost immediately. In a field that was way too male-dominated, it was refreshing to see another girl in your classes.

“Yes, please come over to my place,” She did not hesitate to answer. “I am currently struggling and also freaking the fuck out.”

You laughed a bit. “Glad to know we’re on the same exact page. This test might be the death of me.”

“I can wholeheartedly agree with that statement. So, I’ll see you soon?”

“Yup, I’ll be there in a bit,” You responded before hanging up the phone.

As you got into your car, you heard a notification ping on your phone. When you looked at it, you saw that it was a text from Ransom that said, “Sorry.” You couldn’t help but wonder when he had time to send that in between what he was doing with the girl he brought home. Instead of asking that, you sent him back a text that simply said, “Fuck you.”

• • •

The drive to Liana’s apartment did not take longer than twenty minutes, and soon you both had your textbooks and notebooks sprawled out on her kitchen table.

“Okay, I know we’re supposed to be studying, but I love drama too much. What did Ransom do?”

You looked up from your textbook and sighed as the last thirty minutes replayed in your mind. “He brought a girl over to the apartment, but he didn’t give a heads up this time. I was this close to hearing things that would have traumatized me.”

In the eight years you’d known Hugh Ransom Drysdale, you’ve only had the displeasure of hearing him having sex once. It was Senior prom, and he was fucking a cheerleader in the girl’s bathroom, and the timing of you needing to use the restroom was upsettingly perfect. At first, when you walked in, you had absolutely no idea who was in the stall, but when you heard the girl he was with scream his name excessively loud, you rushed out of the bathroom, scarring visual images already playing in your mind.

Since then, you’d been lucky enough never to have to hear him again, and you didn’t want that to change anytime soon, especially on a night where you needed to study for a test that you just knew was going to kill you.

“Yikes,” Liana said in response to your previous words. “Honestly, with his track record with women, I’m surprised this hasn’t happened more often than not.”

“That’s the exact reason why I came up with this system when he let me move in with him. He’s supposed to text or call me before he’s at the apartment, and I leave as quickly as possible. But, apparently, the dumbass forgot tonight.”

“God, I still can’t believe you moved in with him.”

“He’s a dick and a sarcastic asshole most of the time, but he’s also my best friend, and I love him,” You stated honestly and with a small shrug. “And when all of that shit went down with my parents, and I had nowhere else to go, he was the first person to help me out.”

Your parents were much more of the traditional type and cared more about you finding a husband rather than actually getting a career. Part of them even hated the fact that you were going to college instead of pursuing one of the sons of their many, many rich friends and becoming married by twenty-one. And seven months ago, when you told them that you were going to Law School– to a college that you had received a full scholarship from– once you got your undergraduate degree, they decided to disown you, and did so with almost no hesitation. It hurt like hell at first, but part of you felt like it had been inevitable. They wanted one thing for you, and you wanted something vastly different.

That same night, you showed up at Ransom’s apartment, expecting to only stay there for the night, but he offered to let you stay in his spare bedroom as long as you needed to and was adamant about you accepting his offer. And of course, you said yes; Ransom may be rude and condescending to pretty much everyone, but he was almost always nice to you.

“Anyway, enough about me and the loveable douchebag I live with,” You said and then looked down at your textbook again. “Can we study for this test?”

Liana reluctantly nodded her head. “Sadly, yes.”

• • •

A silent prayer passed your lips as you opened the front door to the apartment two hours later, hoping that it was only Ransom in it now. When you heard nothing except the quiet tick of the clock on the wall, you emitted a sigh of relief, knowing that you were in the clear.

You placed the books in your hands on the kitchen island and began rummaging through the cabinets to find the cereal.

Yes, it was almost two in the morning, but having cereal this late was your guilty pleasure. You didn’t understand how or why, but it always tasted better in the middle of the night.

All that was left was a box of Trix that you were positive Ransom had bought because you weren’t the biggest fan of that cereal, but you settled for it anyway because you craved cereal, and at that moment, it didn’t matter what kind. You ate your cereal standing at the island as your mind ran through a few of the concepts you and Liana had just studied, upsettingly failing to correctly recall most of them.

You were racking your brain trying to remember the definition of the “principle of legality” when you heard the sound of footsteps coming from Ransom’s room, steps that sounded like more than one person. Before you could go anywhere else, you saw him, dressed in a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, and the woman he was with, unsurprisingly dressed in what you guessed was the clothes she had shown up in but were now disheveled and slightly wrinkled.

The woman noticed you in the kitchen. “Uh, who is this?”

You understood her confusion. Ransom always failed to mention you; his best friend who had been living with him for the past seven months due to extenuating circumstances. You never felt offended that he didn’t inform them about you, though, because you knew that there was really no point. The women he was with were always a one-and-done situation, and you rarely ever met them.

But, in the few instances that you did meet some of the women that would come and go throughout the apartment, they had been nice, so you never hesitated to be friendly back with them. However, due to the night you had endured and the way that Ransom’s latest hookup was looking at you with an expression that could only be deemed as disgust, you weren’t in the mood to be nice.

So, you smiled at the woman in front of you and then narrowed your eyes at her. “I’m his wife.”

She gaped at you for a brief moment before turning to Ransom and slapping him across the face before storming out of the apartment. You had to put your hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter.

When the door slammed shut, you went over to lock it and then looked at Ransom. “You’re welcome. Now you’ll never have to see her again.”

“I do not think I should thank you because she fucking slapped me. Very hard, might I add,” Ransom responded as he rubbed his cheek. “Also, what if I wanted to see her again?”

“Then I'd say I think you’re having a stroke, and we should probably take you to the hospital,” You said with a sarcastic smile gracing your features. “And I didn’t expect the slap, but I’m glad she did it because now I don’t have to. You promised that you would at least give me a courtesy text before you brought a girl over. You know how thin these fucking walls are.”

“I know, I know, but everything with her happened so fast, and I forgot to text you,” Ransom responded as he walked over to where you were still standing at the island. He grabbed your cereal and spoon and took a bite of the colorful Trix.

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to accept the terrible excuse, and pulled your bowl away from him, grabbing your spoon back. “You do not deserve my cereal.”

His eyebrows quirked up amusingly, and you could see the playful glint sparking in his blue eyes. “Cereal that I paid for?”

“You’re the worst,” You said and then flipped him off before grabbing your bowl and walking to your room, closing the door behind you.

“Love you too,” Ransom’s voice penetrated through the door, and you could practically hear the smirk in his tone.

You were sitting cross-legged on your bed when the door opened, and you were too busy enjoying your cereal to tell Ransom to get out.  

“Did you get to study for your test?” He asked as he walked over to your bed and laid down next to you.

“Yes. But, will I still be failing said test? Also, yes,” You answered and then looked at Ransom. He was laying on his back with his head on one of your pillows and eyes closed, but you knew he wasn’t sleeping just yet. “Please tell me that you’ve taken a shower since fucking whoever that girl was.”

His eyes were still closed. “Then I’d be lying to you.”

You outwardly cringed. “Remind me to wash my sheets tomorrow.”

“Got it,” He mumbled and turned on his side, and you knew that he was definitely asleep now.

You finished the rest of your cereal and then went to the kitchen to put the bowl in the sink. When you came back, you saw that Ransom was now under the covers. You let out a breath of a sigh before joining him.

“Move over, weirdo,” You said as you attempted to get comfortable under the comforter.

“I hate you,” He mumbled but still shifted over a bit so that you had more room.

You let out a small laugh and smiled into the darkness. “Love you too.”

You wondered if there was ever a time where he had been in a girl’s bed as platonically as this; your gut instinct told you no. Ransom was not the type to simply sleep in a girl’s bed; there would always, always be something more happening.

But somehow, that was never the case with you.

And honestly, you were glad for it. Your friendship with him meant more to you than what a one night stand would have been, and at this point, you couldn’t even imagine what something more would be like.

You would never know this, but from the moment he met you, there was something about you that made him not just want one night with you. The sarcastic remark you gave him when you both were fourteen and first met at this banquet dinner that his parents put together and your parents were invited to let him know that you would be harder to hook up with, but he always liked a challenge.

However, your wittiness and sense of humor that he had the pleasure of seeing throughout that night when you both snuck a bottle of champagne and talked about anything and everything– before your parents caught you and dragged you home– told him that there was more to you that he wanted to see.

Yes, he wanted to have sex with you, but he wanted you in his life more. He didn’t just want one night.

And so far in your eight-year friendship, he has had thousands of them, and the question of whether or not he still wanted to have sex with you was up for debate.

• • •

You walked out of your Criminal Law class surprisingly feeling okay about the test. It did not go amazingly, like you expected, but you didn’t think that you failed it.

Before you could further ponder the past hour of your life, your phone began ringing in the back pocket of the jeans you were wearing. You expected the call to be from Ransom, but when you saw your dad’s contact name come up, you almost dropped the device in your hand.

To say that you were hesitant to answer the call would be an understatement. The last time you talked to him or your mom was seven months ago when they disowned you because you refused to live the life they wanted for you.

You didn’t know whether or not you should answer the call, mainly because you had no idea why he was calling, and that uncertainty made you feel worried. Your finger hovered over the answer button, silently debating what to do.

Until the decision was made for you.

Your phone stopped ringing, and a notification immediately popped up saying that you missed the call.

Another call didn’t come through after that, and you had no idea if you should feel relief or not. However, instead of thinking more about that thought, you decided to just finally head to your car and drive back to the apartment since you didn’t have any other classes for the rest of the day.  

You desperately wanted to know why your dad had called, but you also feared that whatever he would say would only make you want to go right back to how things were before everything changed. And you knew that he was the one that could make you even think about dismissing what you truly wanted and listen to what he and your mom wanted. Your relationship with him had always been stronger than the one you had with your mother.

Part of you couldn’t help but think that maybe things changed, and he was finally understanding of what you wanted from your life, and he managed to get your mom to understand too. For all twenty-two years of your life, all you wanted was for them to truly understand you and accept the fact that you would never allow yourself to simply be someone’s wife; you knew that you were deserving of so much more than just that.

They could never understand, though. You felt that your dad had gotten close at times, but you also knew that he was so far.

You didn’t know why he called you right then, and you knew that you never would because you wouldn’t call him back. You refused to do so. He and your mom were the ones that cast you away so easily, and that hurt a lot more than you wanted to admit. It didn’t feel right to talk to them just yet; you were still hurting from it all. Another fact that you didn’t want to admit.

When you made it to your car, a wave of impulsiveness washed over you, and you pulled out your phone, proceeding to call the only person that could make your spiraling mind feel better.

“Let’s get drunk tonight.”

“Hello to you too,” Ransom responded. You could already hear the smile in his tone. “I’m guessing the test did not go well.”

You bypassed his statement, mainly because the test you took was the farthest thing from your mind at the moment. “I don’t wanna go out because fuck human interaction right now, and you’d probably just ditch me for the first cute girl you see, so let’s get drunk at the apartment. Maybe watch some hilariously bad movies as we do so.”

“Okay, bring some stuff home. I don’t think we have anything good here.”

You smiled at that, already feeling better now that you had your night laid out in front of you. “Okay.”

• • •

“I have no fucking clue what’s going on right now.”

“Jesus Christ, keep up, Drysdale,” You sighed dramatically as you took the bottle from Ransom’s hands and took a swig of the dark liquor. The taste didn’t burn as it went down your throat like it did earlier. “The alien cheerleader is actually the mom of the head cheerleader from the rival team. Now we’re gonna find out who the dad is.”

Ransom simply looked at you. “I love how you think that any of that made sense.”

“Do I need to start it from the beginning?” You asked, shifting yourself on the couch the two of you were sitting on to reach for the remote.

“Oh, God, please don’t.”

You laughed much harder at Ransom’s minor joke than intended to, and that is what let both you and him know that you were definitely drunk.

“Okay, I think that’s enough of this for tonight,” Ransom said as he took the bottle from your hands.

You didn’t protest because you knew he was right; although, you were enjoying the light and floaty feeling coursing throughout your body. However, you knew that the morning repercussions of the night would make you hate yourself for drinking too much.

“You never told me why you wanted to have this drunk night. Can I have an explanation now?” Ransom asked, turning his head to look at you.

You were quiet at first. If you were completely honest, you wanted to forget about everything that happened a few hours earlier. But, you also felt the strong need to tell Ransom everything. He was probably the only person that you actually wanted to talk to about all of the horrible shit going on in your life.

“My fucking dad called me,” Saying those words out loud made you laugh uncontrollably because of how suddenly ridiculous that sounded to you. He was the same father that was on the same side as your mom when it came to dissociating themselves with you, and now he was calling, for reasons unbeknownst to you, seven months after everything happened. Now you were really glad that you didn’t answer him. He didn’t deserve an answer.

Ransom looked at you with an expression that could only be deemed as shock. “Wow, shit. What did he say?”

“I didn’t answer the call,” You responded as you mindlessly played with the fabric of the blanket that was draped over you both. “But now I’m glad I didn’t. Fuck him.”

“I second that fuck him,” Ransom agreed. He leaned the bottle toward you, allowing you to take it back because he knew you needed it right then. You didn’t hesitate to drink from it. “He didn’t leave a voicemail or anything?”

When you processed Ransom’s words, which took a moment to do due to your slightly inebriated state, your eyes widened.

“Holy shit,” You said as you grabbed your phone off of the coffee table and went straight to your voicemails.

And there it was, a forty-six-second long message from your dad.

You looked at Ransom. His eyes were still on your phone. “You have to listen to it.”

Now he was looking at you. “Why just me?” He asked.

“Because… Because,” You shook your head. “I just really can’t do that right now. I can’t bring myself to listen to him. So, please do it and just tell me what he said.”

Ransom didn’t question you further and instead nodded his head. He took your phone and watched as you turned your head the other way as he began listening to it.

“Hi, Y/N, I know that I probably should’ve expected to get your voicemail, but I do wish that I could actually be talking to you right now. I’m so sorry that it’s taken me this long to reach out to you, and there’s no excuse for that. But, I hope that things can become right between us all. All I want is for you to be happy in your life, and if that means law school, then I want to fully support you through that. Even your mom will too. Anyway, I really want us to talk soon, so please call back when you get the chance. I love you.”

The voicemail ended there, and Ransom tried his hardest to hide the surprise he was feeling.

“Well, what did he say?” You looked at him with wide and curious eyes.

He couldn’t tell you the truth. From the second the voicemail ended, he knew that he couldn’t. Because if he told you what your dad had said in that voicemail, he would lose you. If you knew the truth, you would move back with your parents, or they would pay for some new apartment for you. Either way, you wouldn’t live with him anymore, and thinking about that truly fucked him up.

Yes, the two of you had been friends for eight years, but these past seven months your friendship had been stronger than ever before, and Ransom didn’t want that to change. He really didn’t want to lose you.

It was completely selfish, and he knew that too, but selfishness was practically one of his defining character traits. However, at this moment, it felt harder to be how he usually was because when he was with you, he would never act like how he did with others.

But, right then, he forced himself to do it anyway.

“He was just saying the usual thing. How he and your mom want you to move back home only if you give up law school. Also, apparently, there’s this doctor guy they want you to date too,” Ransom told you, but he avoided eye contact with you the entire time. Until he decided to say his last statement. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You sighed and felt the involuntary rush of tears fill your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. As angry and hurt as you were, you knew that deep down you were actually hoping that maybe just maybe things had changed. You hated that a small part of you still hoped for some sort of heartfelt reconciliation and fairytale ending.

“Of course he did. Of fucking course that’s all he called about,” You finally said and took another sip from the glass bottle, this one much longer than the others.

Seeing you look so visibly upset made Ransom want to tell you the actual truth, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. As much as he wanted to do that, the want to keep you as his roommate, as his best friend, was so much stronger.

So, instead of saying anything more, he deleted the voicemail and set your phone down.

He placed his arm around, and you immediately accepted the touch, moving closer toward him. “I’m sorry.”

In your mind, he felt sorry for you because of the fact that your parents were still assholes, and you didn’t question him because you now agreed with that fact more than ever. But, you wouldn’t know that he was apologizing for something entirely different, something that he knew you would never forgive him for.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know your thoughts<3

[rowanaelinn]

Mr. and Mrs. Whitethorn’s Six Yulemas - Year Two

Warning: Language, alcohol, anxiety | Word count: 10k

This chapter was supposed to come out on Saturday but because of Christmas I wasn't sure to be able to publish then, so you'll have it earlier!! I hope you'll enjoy this new part

Aelin was hit by the cold air of Terrasen when she set foot out of the plane. She took a deep breath, enjoying the faint smell of pine and snow before walking down the plane stairs, a smile on her lips. Dorian was right behind her, they took the same plane to get back home, at least they didn’t almost die of boredom during the four hours of flight.

They had played games and as usual, Aelin had won. She didn’t play fair, she admitted that but who cared how you played the game as long as you won it? Dorian hadn’t noticed her cheating, it was the part she had the most fun with. She didn’t care about the actual game, she cared about how she could play the people she was playing with.

Feeling the snow under her boots was a feeling Aelin had particularly missed. Adarlan was fun, Adarlan was beautiful, but Adarlan was warm. There hadn’t been a single day of snowfall there yet, while Terrasen was already living under the snow. She was going to enjoy her two weeks here.

As they waited for their suitcases, Aelin and Dorian shared a pair of headphones, both of them listening to their favorite artist: Taylor Swift. She wanted to scream the lyrics out loud, but she still had enough decency not to do it. At least, not sober.

These months of college had been… wild. When it was daylight, Aelin would be in class, learning all about human anatomy. But when it was night… Aelin had a roommate who liked to party as much as Aelin did, and when she introduced Nehemia to Dorian and that Dorian introduced his roommate to the two girls, Sam, the four of them all became friends. Not nearly as close as she was to Rowan, she could never be so close to anyone else, but she loved them dearly.

It was fair to say, there wasn’t a single club or pub Aelin and her friends hadn’t visited in Rifthold. She didn’t know how she was doing it, studying and going out. Most people in her major were incapable of doing both, they were spending all their time studying and resting when they could. Aelin traded sleep in exchange for parties. But she wasn’t failing, her grades were quite good, actually, so this lifestyle worked for her.

“Is your mom here yet?” Dorian asked, bending to grab his baggage on the carousel.

Aelin shrugged, checking her phone and sending another text to her mother. She had already told her she landed twenty minutes ago but her mother hadn’t read it yet. We’ll be there in 5. Where are you?

“She’s probably too busy playing Candy Crush to answer me.”

Dorian scoffed and grabbed Aelin’s suitcase before she could do it, always and ever the gentleman. She rolled her eyes when he made a reverence, “For my Queen.” They started walking toward the waiting room, her mom should be there.

“Well, thanks,” She played along. “Lackey.”

Dorian pretended to be offended, “You’re an awful friend.”

“I love you, too,” she laughed as she looked around for her mother. Well, she wasn’t here.

Her vision went black and warm strong hands recovered her eyes, her back pressing against someone’s front. Aelin’s breath caught as the panic in her rose, she used all her strength to kick her assaulter in the foot, giving him shoulder blows so that he freed her from his clutch. It was a technique Sam had taught her, she had had to use it once or twice in clubs. Successfully, she pushed him away from her, turning around to see who the hell thought it appropriate to assault someone in a freaking airport.

Dorian’s face was of pure genuine surprise, and she understood why when she saw who had obscured her vision. “Rowan?” She asked, out of breath because of the panic. Her heart calmed down a little, the adrenaline still in her veins.

Rowan’s eyes were wide, his arms still in the air as if he hadn’t totally understood what just happened, “What the fuck, Ace?”

“No, you, what the fuck? You scared the shit out of me.”

“I was trying to surprise you!”

“I thought you were assaulting me!”

Rowan’s eyes went wider if it was possible, “You thought what?”

But Aelin didn’t answer, she released a long breath as she looked at the man in front of her. His hair was longer than it had been five months ago, he had told her he wanted to see what it would look like if he let it reach his shoulder. Aelin agreed with this, she was convinced Rowan could look good with everything but especially long hair.

She let out what seemed to be a sob before she rushed to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him as close to her as possible. Rowan did the same, his arms slipping around her waist as he breathed her in. In this warm and protecting embrace, Aelin felt like breathing for the first time in months.

“I’m sorry,” he said, she only held him tighter. She didn’t know he would be there, she had thought she’d only see him tomorrow. She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry, she had tried too much the day she had left him at the airport, waiting for him to leave and leaving his life overseas.

But right now, as she held him and felt whole once again, it was hard to keep her tears in. “I thought your plane was tomorrow,” she said, letting go of him enough to look at him but not enough to break all the physical contact.

“I lied, I planned with The Mothers a way to surprise you.”

She hit him playfully on the shoulder, “You sneaky bastard.” It was too late to worry about her tears, they were flowing down her cheeks. Rowan didn’t comment on them, he knew they were happy tears. He wasn’t one to express his happiness with anything else than a smile, but she could see how happy he was in his eyes.

“I’m trying to reach your level.”

She laughed, bringing him close for another hug. She could have stayed this way for hours if it wasn’t for someone coughing loudly beside them. “Not to intrude, but I’m still here.”

Aelin let go of Rowan, turning to Dorian and putting an arm around his shoulder to keep him beside her; it was easy to do this since Dorian was Aelin’s height. “How could I forget about you?”

“Hey, man,” Rowan said, shaking Dorian’s hand. Aelin would never understand why men insisted on shaking hands to greet each other. Aelin hugged everyone, she couldn’t just shake hands. That was a stupid concept.

“Wendlyn’s treating you right,” Dorian said, noting Rowan’s tanner than usual skin. His usually subtle accent was stronger, too. She didn’t know he could get his accent back so fast but she guessed living with people who spoke as he used to when he was a child quickened the process.

“She didn’t put you through too much?” He asked, tilting his head toward Aelin. Her mouth opened, a sign of her offense.

“I’m right there!”

Dorian chuckled, “I don’t think I got a minute of rest.”

“You dirty little liar, you’re the one begging us to go out sometimes.”

Dorian snorted, “Sure, I want to go out. It’s Sammy’s job to keep you in check.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Sammy?” Rowan asked.

“I told you about him, he’s Dorian’s roommate.”

“And Aelin’s bodyguard and personal pillow.”

Rowan looked at her, an eyebrow raised. Aelin rolled her eyes before explaining, “I fell asleep one time on him, and Nehemia and Dorian have kept teasing us about it.”

“Once?” Dorian asked, “And I’m the liar?”

Aelin sighed, “Okay, maybe twice.”

“More like every time we go out, and it means a lot.”

“Will you stop?” Aelin asked, mildly annoyed at being called out like this, even more annoyed because she could feel her cheek heat, and from Dorian’s laugh, he knew that. She looked at Rowan and his smile wasn’t on his face anymore, he was looking at her with furrowed brows, almost as if he was trying to decipher some sort of enigma. “Are you okay, Ro?”

It seemed to snap him out of his daze, “Yeah, let’s go home.” He took her suitcase and started walking away, some edge in his voice. Aelin didn’t wonder too much about it, he must just be tired. The gods knew how grumpy he could be if he didn’t get all his hours of sleep.

❆—❆—❆—❆

“So,” Aelin started, sitting in the little dinner Rowan brought her to after they drove Dorian back to his house. Aelin had thought Rowan would bring her back home, but no, he surprised her once again by telling her they were eating at their favorite place. “How’s Doranelle?”

Rowan groaned, throwing his head back while Aelin chuckled softly, “Why are you acting as if we didn’t call each other every day?”

Aelin snorted, “Yeah, I speak and you listen. You don’t tell me that much.”

“Because there’s nothing to say,” he shrugged.

She rolled her eyes, looking at the menu, “You really need to start communicating.”

“I do communicate. I do it with you, almost every day.”

Aelin shook her head, “No, we send each other memes.”

Rowan made dramatic gestures with his arms, “Yes! That’s communication.”

They both laughed at this, and Aelin rolled her eyes. This communication problem wasn’t new, Rowan had always been shit at it, but Aelin didn’t complain too much, she was probably the person Rowan talked to the most.

It felt so good to be back here. Sure, Aelin loved Rifthold, it was so vibrant and alive, this city never slept, but she also missed how simple Orynth was. It wasn’t a small city by any means, but there was nothing fancy here. Everything felt familiar, everything felt simple. It was something Aelin had taken comfort in when she grew up.

And as Aelin started telling Rowan all about her trip, how she cheated and Dorian didn’t even notice, as Rowan and she laughed, she couldn’t help but feel a warm sensation that told her she was home. In their few months separated, nothing had changed, they were still Aelin and Rowan. Rowan and Aelin. Best friends until the end. It was at this moment that she realized her fears had been stupid, how could college change them?

❆—❆—❆—❆

It was late when Rowan and Aelin left the dinner, Rowan was only supposed to drive her home, declining when she asked him if he wanted to have a sleepover, claiming to be tired. But when they saw Lily’s car parked in Aelin’s driveway, he rolled his eyes at Aelin’s smile and got out of the car with her, not letting her take her suitcase. She didn’t complain, it was heavy as hell. At least he was using all these new muscles.

Aelin felt complete when she opened the door and was hit with the smell of gingerbread and wood burning, the strong temperature contrast between the heated house and the frigid cold outside. The atmosphere was so cozy, the sound of the fireplace overlaid by sounds from the living room.

Rowan let her suitcase in the hall, walking behind her to join their parents. The four of them were sitting on the couch, The Mothers were knee bent, half of their bodies hidden by one of Aelin’s plaid. They were holding a mug of hot chocolate, they were so hot that Aelin could see the smoke coming out of the mug. Benjamin and Rhoe were sitting at the other side of the sofa, their arms resting on the back of it as they spoke vividly about something.

Their conversation was interrupted when Aelin cleared her throat, attracting attention to her. “Oh my god!” Evalin’s tone was full of delight, her smile was warmer than the fire burning in the fireplace. She placed her cup on the small table in front of her and stood, walking, no, running toward her daughter. The next second, Aelin was into the secure embrace of her mother, she hugged her as close as possible. Aelin had missed her mother so much, she was Aelin’s best friend in a way. Sure, Rowan was there, but he was Rowan, she called him her best friend because there was nothing stronger to call him. But Evalin and Rhoe… Aelin loved them dearly, she could always laugh with them and talk to them about anything. So, in their own way, they were also Aelin's best friends.

Talking about Aelin’s father, he joined the family hug, Evalin being generous enough to let go of half of Aelin to give some space to her husband. “I missed you so much,” Evalin said, looking at Aelin from head to toe. “You got taller, didn’t you?”

Rhoe chuckled warmly, “She wishes.”

Aelin hit the both of them on the shoulder, ignoring Rowan and his family’s laugh, “I’ve been back for two minutes, wait until tomorrow at least before being horrible parents.”

They scoffed, “How was the surprise, honey?” Lily asked.

“She almost killed me,” Rowan said, sitting on the couch beside his dad. “That’s how it went.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, following her mother to sit beside her. She put the plaid on Aelin’s leg, keeping her warm. “You’re so dramatic.”

“My foot’s been hurting ever since I picked you up.”

Aelin snorted, “I feel like I’m repeating myself, but I thought you were assaulting me.”

Lily and Evalin choked on their drinks, “What?”

“That idiot came behind me and covered my eyes! How was I supposed to react?”

“Trying to guess who it was. That’s how you were supposed to react.” Rowan said, she just rolled her eyes.

“But that’s how a normal person would react,” Rhoe started.

“And when has Aelin ever been normal? It’s on you, boy.” Benjamin finished.

“I hate you all,” Aelin sighed, ignoring everyone’s laugh and how it made her smile. She shook her head and looked at Rowan, he was already looking at her. She put her feet on the couch, having taken her shoes off before entering the house, and put her head on her knees. Even me? He asked.

Especially you.

She could see the quiet amusement on his features. Feeling’s mutual, princess.

Liar.

You, too.

“Mom?” Aelin asked, her devilish smile on her lips. She saw Rowan tense at it, gods he knew her so well.

“Yes, honey?”

“Can Rowan stay here tonight?” She made her best puppy dog eyes, the cutest smile on her face. She heard Rowan growl but ignored it, keeping her eyes on her mother.

The Mothers looked at each other and Evalin sighed while Lily had a victorious smile on her lips. Aelin frowned and looked at Rowan, he seemed as confused as she was. “You’re so annoying,” Evalin said, She reached into her pocket and pulled out a tenner, and placed it in Lily's hand. Had they made... a bet? “And you, young lady, have always been expensive.”

“What?”

Lily snickered, pocketing her new money, “I bet you wouldn’t want to part ways tonight, your mother thought you’d be too tired to have a sleepover the day right when you come back.”

“Well, Evalin’s not wrong, I’m tired.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, “You’re such a grandpa.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Aelin. That’s so unusual for someone to be tired when they’re jetlagged.”

“I’m jet-lagged, too!” She scoffed, he really was tired and gods damned her, she loved playing with him.

“One freaking hour, Aelin. One hour.” He snapped, Aelin ignored the bite in his tone. “Doranelle’s time zone is ten hours later than Terrasen’s.”

Aelin covered her heart with her hands, “Poor little baby.”

He didn’t answer, he only threw a pillow at her face. The pillow hit her right in the face, hurting much more than it was supposed to. She hated his muscles. The bastard had a proud smile all over his face. “Don’t fight now, I’m too tired to separate you,” Rhoe said.

“So?” Aelin went back to her mom.

“Sure, but the door stays open.”

“Wait,” Rowan sat straighter, as confused as Aelin. Why would they have to keep the door open all night? Rowan was supposed to sleep in the guest room right beside hers, her mother wasn’t supposed to know he sneaked in whenever he could. “What?”

“They really think we’re stupid, don’t they?” Lily asked.

Evalin smirked, “It’s the teenage years, they think they’re smarter than us.”

“You know,” Aelin blurted. Gods, they were in trouble. Were they? They were eighteen, now, it was fine for two adult friends to sleep in the same bed, right?

Rhoe snorted, “Of course we do, Rowan’s steps are louder than an elephant’s.”

Aelin burst out laughing because it was true, the man couldn’t stay quiet even if he tried. “Oh, come on,” he complained, tilting his head back on the back of the couch.

“You two are supposed to be adults now. So, I guess it’s fine. Just, please, keep the door open for your dad’s sanity.”

Rowan snorted, “It’s not like anything could happen, it’s Aelin and me.”

Aelin’s laugh sounded faker than the ones before, “Yeah, nothing could ever happen.”

Aelin didn’t like the suspicious way The Mothers were looking at her. She didn’t like it at all.

❆—❆—❆—❆

“No.”

Aelin groaned, taking a sip of her coffee, “Yes.”

“I said no.”

Aelin shrugged, eating a toast, “And I said yes.”

“I am not going ice skating,” Rowan muttered, grumpier than usual. It was kind of Aelin’s fault, to be honest. She hadn’t let him sleep a lot, forcing him to watch Yulemas movies with her. She just had been so excited to have her friend back, she didn’t want to fall asleep and lose time.

“Come on, it’s going to be fun.”

He looked at her, eyebrows raised, showing her how much he doubted her. “I’m going to break my arm or something.”

“That’s what I said. Fun,” she grinned like a fiend, and this time he couldn’t hold back his own grin. Aelin pouted, needing to convince him. It had been years since the last time they went ice skating, and when Elide had texted her this morning, asking if she and Rowan wanted to join her and Lorcan to the skating rink, Aelin had been ecstatic.

He looked at her severely, “Don’t look at me like that.”

She kept going, asking in her sweetest voice, “Why? Because you’ll crave?”

“Aelin,” he warned her. She had so much fun. When Aelin didn’t stop, only bending over the table so she’d be closer to him, he groaned and Aelin knew she won. “If I break anything, you spend the day at the hospital with me, you demon.”

Aelin threw her arms in the air in sign of victory, gods, she loved being able to get everything she wanted. It was almost too easy. “You’re the best,” she said, he rolled his eyes but she could see the hint of a smile on his lips.

They were late, and it was Aelin’s fault. It wasn’t the deviation to pick up some clothes for Rowan that had them late, it had been Aelin insisting on putting on makeup and straightening her hair. Rowan had been complaining the whole time, but Aelin wanted to look good.

“Ace!” Elide jumped in Aelin’s arms. Gods, she had missed her friend. She was still so small but still so strong at the same time. Aelin hugged her close, she saw Rowan and Lorcan shake hands, Lorcan was probably Rowan’s closest male friend.

“Sorry for being late,” Aelin apologized as she nodded to Lorcan. Both of them weren’t best friends, or even close friends. Aelin dealt with Lorcan because Elide had a massive crush on him and because Rowan liked him and she was sure Lorcan dealt with her because the man was head over heels for Elide and because she was Rowan’s best friend. Their relationship stopped there, and both of them were okay with it.

“I assumed you would be,” Elide answered, sticking closer to Lorcan, pretending to be cold. Oh, she was good.

Rowan chuckled, and Aelin squinted at him, warning him to not say a word against her. He raised his hands in defense but Aelin kept looking at him suspiciously. “Shall we?”

Aelin knew the afternoon would be messy when they spent twenty minutes looking for skates in Lorcan and Rowan’s size. Of course, these two were taller than men usually were in Terrasen, so there weren’t a lot of skates in their shoe size. Aelin had laughed when Rowan had tried on skates two sizes too small and had tried to walk with them. His face had been hilarious.

The real fun had started the moment Rowan put one foot on the ice, almost falling on his ass. Aelin had always been good at this, her parents had made her ice skate for years when she was younger, but Rowan had never shared her love for the ice. She held her hand to him, a hand he took to try to stay stable on his feet.

As they slid on the ice all around the ring, always close to the railing so Rowan had one hand in hers and one hand close to it, her best friend must have muttered twenty declinations of “I hate you”. Aelin found it hilarious.

Lorcan and Elide weren’t much better, Elide, the snake, was pretending to be as bad as Rowan so Lorcan could teach her. But Aelin knew for a fact Elide knew how to skate, multiple times the women had spent hours on the ice together. “He’s so blind,” Rowan laughed, looking back at Elide who was clinging to Lorcan’s side.

“Look straight, you nosy grandma,” Aelin warned him when he started losing his balance.

Rowan growled, getting angry to Aelin’s amusement, “It’s because of the skates. They’re bad.”

“Sure, Ro,” Aelin snorted. “It’s absolutely not your awful balance.”

He looked offended, “I work out every day for my balance, you should hear coach Malakai when we train.”

“The balance of a football player and an ice skater is totally different, smart-ass. You’re a brute without any delicateness, while we are brutes who know how to be fine ladies.”

Rowan rolled his eyes, focusing on finishing his second tour. He then insisted on doing one by himself, no railing or Aelin, she knew it would be hilarious so Aelin let him do as he wished. She sat on the railing, looking at Rowan and the quiet focus on his features when Elide sat beside her, Lorcan skating past them to join Rowan. “You think you’re subtle?”

Elide chuckled, “Apparently I am, since the man still hasn’t taken the hint.”

She couldn’t say she was wrong, Aelin really didn’t know what he was waiting for when it was painfully obvious for everyone around them that Elide and Lorcan had been flirting for years, now. “What about you?” Elide asked.

“Hm?” Aelin arched her brow.

Elide took a deep breath, looking back at the two men who were skating very slowly, “You and Rowan seem awfully close.”

Aelin shrugged, “We’ve always been.”

Elide made a humming noise, “So, there’s nothing between you two?”

Aelin choked on nothing, attracting the attention of everyone around them, “Don’t say that!”

“That’s just a question, Ae. Relax.”

It took a few seconds for Aelin to calm down, “It’s just… Not like that. Never with Rowan. Never.”

“Okay,” Elide smiled, but Aelin didn’t like her tone. This woman was a snake, she was small, but she was five feet two of wickedness. “And, you like anyone? There must be lots of men at your feet in college.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, but a deep voice answered for her first, “Sammy is.”

Rowan had skated his way back to Aelin, he was out of breath, as if he didn’t run miles every day. He was so dramatic. “Sammy? Who’s Sammy?” Lorcan asked, standing beside Rowan in front of Elide.

Aelin rolled her eyes, “It’s Sam,” she looked at Rowan, she didn’t know why he had the need to bring this up. “And he’s just a friend.”

A snort, “A friend she sleeps with.”

What the hell was Rowan’s problem? She hadn’t teased him for being friends with Remelle in high school, even when the leech had been on the limit of sexually harassing him. “Sex friends? Sexy,” Elide wiggled her brow, Aelin elbowed her in the ribs.

“Not sleep like that! He just taught me how to protect myself and he just happens to be very comfortable to fall asleep on. Better him than strangers, believe me, I tried and they’re not worth it.”

Rowan tensed beside her, and she couldn’t wonder about it because she realized she had said too much when Lorcan asked a question. “Protect yourself? Why?”

Aelin shrugged, “Just some men not knowing the definition of ‘no’.”

“What? You didn’t tell me,” Rowan blurred, entering fussing mode. It was the exact reason why she hadn’t told him about this and about the self-defense class she was taking.

“It wasn’t important.”

Rowan tilted his head to the side, his eyes serious, “Out of all the shits you say when we call each other for half an hour every day, this is not on the important side?”

Aelin ignored him, turning to Elide, “Anyway, how’s the preparation for the ball going?”

Elide snorted, “We really need to stop calling it a ‘ball’ when it’s not that fancy.”

Aelin chuckled, getting back on the ice. “What can I say? We were dramatic children.”

“You were a dramatic child, we just all followed along,” Rowan teased her, giving her a playful shoulder push.

“Anyway, it’s going great,” Elide explained, getting back on the ice too and stretching. “I thought that instead of our usual clothes, we could put on costumes? And do a game of who has the best one.”

Aelin jumped on herself on the ice, absolutely loving the idea, “Yes!”

“Calm down, woman,” Lorcan rolled his eyes at her enthusiasm. Aelin ignored him, she already had so many ideas.

“Oh my god, we should do a costume together,” she told Rowan.

His eyes were wide, and his teeth were gritted when he turned to Elide and told her, “Remember that I hate you.”

Aelin only chuckled, hugging his side, thinking of where they could buy their costumes. Rowan put his arm around her shoulders, letting her steal his warmth.

❆—❆—❆—❆

“Ben!” Aelin smiled as she walked down the stairs, seeing Benjamin putting three coats on the coat rack. Aelin had heard everyone arrive ten minutes ago but in usual Aelin fashion, she had started getting ready late. She had been in the process of curling her hair when she heard the bell. She wasn’t that late, though, which she was quite proud of.

Rowan hadn’t stayed with her this late afternoon, he went directly to the mall for some last-minute shopping she wasn’t allowed to come to after he drove her home this afternoon. She knew he had been shopping for her, otherwise, he would have needed her help to find gifts for everyone else. The fact that whatever he was buying was for her was the only reason why he had let him go.

“Aelin,” Benjamin said, turning to her, holding his arms open for her to hug him. “You look pretty.”

“Don’t I always?” She gave him a sly smile that made him laugh. “You look tired,” she said, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

He shrugged, not one to complain, “Just work, you know.” Aelin nodded, walking toward the living room. Everyone was there, chatting and helping her mother to prepare everything for the dinner. Aelin stayed in the doorway, watching them. The Mothers were laughing at something, while The Fathers were teasing Rowan about something she couldn’t quite hear.

Rowan’s smile brightened as he turned his head and saw her, she was sure her own smile mirrored his. He walked to her, his eyes never leaving her. She took a deep breath, her cheeks warning as he looked at her dress. She was wearing a simple black dress, thin straps on her shoulder. Rowan’s eyes found her chest, hugged by the material of her clothes.

She knew the neckline was low enough to be indecent, and the way her push-up undergarments highlighted her breasts… She felt successful when a flush appeared on her cheeks and his eyes found the wall apparently more interesting than her. “Hey,” Aelin breathed, still breathless from the way he just looked at her. She didn’t know what it was with them looking at the other hungrily, but Aelin couldn’t help but feel out of breath when it happened.

“You’re late.”

Aelin scoffed, crossing her arms and by the way, attracting Rowan’s gaze just there, she had so much fun seeing him shake his head, “I’m not an hour late so I’ll consider that I’m on time.”

Rowan rolled his eyes but smiled a little. Aelin had been so busy teasing him that she hadn’t paid attention to his outfit. Rowan was wearing all black today, it was as if they had matched outfits without even trying to. His shirt hugged him close, she even thought some buttons would pop open the second Rowan crossed his arms. She hadn’t seen him out of a hoodie yet, and it was her time to blush when she realized how hard he must train in college. He wasn’t that fit five months ago.

He caught her looking, and it was her turn to pretend to watch the wall while the bastard smirked. Gods, she hated him for being like this. He was her best friend, her best friend wasn’t supposed to be hot. She wasn’t supposed to find him hot.

“You look good, Fireheart,” Evalin interrupted, “I was right to buy you this dress, it was made for you.”

“Everything was made for me, mom,” Aelin grinned while her mother rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know how you can still pass the door with an ego as big as yours,” Evalin sighed, but it was just teasing. She clapped her hands, “Get in front of the tree! I want a picture of you two!”

“Are you sure?” Rowan, who didn’t make it a secret that he hated taking pictures, made a face.

Evalin ignored him, calling for Aelin’s father because he was the one with the photo camera. Both Aelin and Rowan stood in front of the tree, this year it was green with some white on the branches to imitate snow, all the decoration was red and gold, Aelin’s favorite colors.

“Do you want me to hold your phone? Since you don’t have any pockets?” Rowan asked, a brow raised.

“Oh! Yeah, please,” she held her phone to him, her lock screen appearing the moment he took it in his hands. Aelin could see a small smile form on his lips when he saw the picture of them both, last Yulemas, with whipped cream on their nose. Aelin hadn’t changed it once since last year, every time she felt homesick she looked at this picture and it smoothed her feelings a bit.

He pocketed her phone and slid an arm around her waist, his hand gripping her and tucking her closer to him. Rhoe was waiting for them to be ready, so Aelin turned and hugged Rowan’s waist, her head resting on his shoulder as she didn’t have to pretend to smile for the picture, his hand squeezing her waist did all the job.

❆—❆—❆—❆

“Is it finally presents time?” Aelin asked from her spot on the couch. The meal her mother had prepared had been delicious, but gods, she didn’t know if she could actually stand without falling to the floor and rolling. Aelin thought it would have been okay to eat twice as much as a person normally does, but apparently it wasn’t and her stomach was making her regret it all now.

Rowan had passed beside her, gently slapping her stomach and she had almost thrown up right there. She had cursed him out for almost an hour after this, the man had only laughed, unphased by Aelin’s threats to cut his favorite parts.

“Sorry honey,” Her mother said, “Santa called. He said you’ve been a bad girl in college, so no present for you this year.”

The noise of offense that came out of Aelin made everyone laugh, “Are you confusing Dorian with Santa?” Her mother laughed, not hiding that she and Dorian had had conversations about her. She hated them. “Because for my defense, I’m actually the calmest out of my friends. I once opened Dorian’s door to find him naked with another guy and his freaking girlfriend!” Aelin was still traumatized from seeing too much of Dorian that day, not that he had been her first, absolutely not. Well, okay. She had already seen him naked, multiple times, she still didn't enjoy seeing his bare ass while going down on a guy he had met at a party. Aelin could only blame herself, Sam had warned her not to go in there, she just had thought he was being dramatic.

Aelin’s father looked like he was going to get sick at this, which only made everyone laugh harder. It was a recurrent story in their family how Rhoe had kicked Dorian out of his house after finding him in Aelin’s bed, on top of her with a hand on her breast. Rhoe Galathynius had never been the same, and Aelin and Evalin had so much fun making fun of him because of it.

“I don’t want to hear another word out of your mouth, open a present,” Rhoe ordered, to Aelin’s delight. Her first present was from her parents, it was a beautiful Feyre Archeron bag. She hugged them close, so happy with her gift. Gods knew these bags were expensive and as a student, she couldn’t afford them, not if she kept insisting her parents didn’t pay anything and let her be an independent woman.

Her cheeks were hurting from smiling too much as everyone opened their gifts, pleased to see everyone happy with their gifts. One of the last gifts under the tree was a very small box and had Aelin’s name on it. She knew who it was from, she’d recognize the handwriting everywhere. Rowan had his own way to write the As and Is, a particularity she had tried to copy multiple times when they were kids but she had never succeeded.

She threw a small look at Rowan before tearing the paper apart, not one for delicateness, before opening the small box. She covered her mouth when she saw the content, her eyes quickly filling with tears. It was a rather simple necklace, with a thin gold chain and a square emerald pendant. Aelin had never been one for extravagant jewels, and Rowan seemed to have noticed it in everything she wore. “Oh, Mala… I love it.” She threw herself in his arms, kissing his cheeks and her own were full of tears.

“Don’t cry,” his voice was softer than it usually was, which just made her cry even more.

“Fuck you,” she cried, taking the necklace out of its box, treating it like she was holding the most precious thing in the world. She might have been. “I got you a bottle of beer, how can I compete with this?”

Rowan barked a laugh, falling deeper into the couch as he laughed. “Did you just spoil what you bought me?”

She hadn’t realized, and when she did, she got mad. “It’s your fault!”

“My fault?” He pointed a finger at his chest, “How come it’s my fault?”

“You’re a good friend, that’s why it’s your fault.”

Rowan laughed and took the necklace out of her hands, “Let me.”

She turned around, sat on the edge of his lap. Aelin shivered when his warm fingers brushed the sensitive skin of her neck and she wished this moment could have lasted forever, but too soon, his hands patted her shoulder, telling her he’s done. Aelin looked down at the pendant hanging low on her neck, she held it close to her. The Mothers insisted that Aelin showed them, and as Aelin and the two women admired the jewel, she could still feel his burning gaze on her.

When Rowan opened his bottle of beer, which had cost her an arm because it was one that was only produced in Rifthold, and had feigned an immense surprise, there were only two gifts left under the tree, even still wrapped, everybody knew what was inside.

Rowan and Aelin grabbed the package with their names on it and sat back on the couch, the house was a mess, of the gift paper and glitter that Aelin had put in all her gifts to piss off the world all over the floor. “I swear, Ro, if you got me an ugly one again, watch your back.”

A snort, “Last year I got a sweater that made lights and started to sing jingle bells as soon as someone brushed the nose of the reindeer embroidered on it, so you have no right to complain about what I offer you.”

Aelin laughed at it and how much fun she had made him go crazy. Rowan had had much less fun, and that’s what had made Aelin laugh so much last year. Gods, she really was a genius.

Rowan rolled his eyes at her laugh and started opening his gift, Aelin did the same. Aelin frowned at what she found in it, had she put her own name on what she was supposed to give Rowan? She had been tired last night, but not that tired. She looked up at Rowan to find him looking at her weirdly, holding a red sweater in his hands.

That’s when Aelin burst out laughing, realization hitting her. She held her sweater to Rowan, who started laughing too, shaking his head. Aelin hadn’t put the wrong name, no, Rowan and Aelin had just given each other the exact same thing.

It was a red sweater, with little snowflakes on it and the logo of their favorite show: F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

Aelin couldn't stop laughing, quickly joined by their families. It had never happened before, sure sometimes they had given each other similar sweaters, but never exactly the same. Rowan was laughing, too. Aelin was sure to be red, she drank an entire glass of water, trying to calm down. Both Aelin and Rowan put on their sweater over their dress clothes, The Mothers insisting for them to take another picture, Rowan was way less eager than Aelin.

After the picture, Aelin had had cramps in her cheeks. They were going to sit back when Aelin’s phone started ringing in Rowan’s pocket, he took it out and looked who it was but he lost his smile, his face becoming weird.

He turned the phone around, an eyebrow raised. Sam’s name was written on her screen, and the phone displayed a picture of the two. Aelin had been drunk, in a way more provocative dress than the one she had on right now, really, it had been barely a dress. She was laughing hard, laying on Sam’s lap. His hand had been on her collarbone and Sam was laughing, too, his head bent down at something Aelin had said.

Aelin smiled, taking her phone from Rowan’s hands before standing up and walking away, answering Sam’s facetime.

❆—❆—❆—❆

“Hey,” Aelin breathed, breathless after running up the stairs. She jumped on her bed, wanting to be comfortable.

“How are you?”

In time, Aelin yawned, “I’m exhausted.” She said, earning a chuckle from Sam.

“Come on, it’s barely midnight. You’ve stayed up way later than this.”

Aelin laughed softly, “I think staying home for a few days is kicking my ass.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Then just go out.”

Aelin stretched, yawning one more time. “Dorian is taken hostage by his mother and clubs aren’t really my other friends’ type.”

“Yeah, I get that. I’m all alone here, so my only company is my mother.”

She chuckled, “I’m sure she’s sweet.”

“Funny, that’s what she said about you,” Sam gave her a sly smile and Aelin rolled her eyes, ignoring his gaze. She was glad her room was slightly in the dark, hiding her blush.

Someone cleared their throat, attracting Aelin’s attention to her doorway. “Hey,” Aelin smiled, tilting her head to Rowan to tell him to join her in the bed. When he did, Aelin turned around, showing the phone to her best friend. He was laying on his back, her head on his shoulder so Sam could see both of them. “Sam, this is Rowan. Rowan, this is Sam.”

“Hi,” Rowan grunted, he wasn’t really an extrovert so Aelin didn’t wonder about this.

“So you’re the infamous Rowan, I’ve heard much about you, man.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, she didn’t talk that much about Rowan. Sam was just way more dramatic than her, and it said something. “That’s me, I guess.” His tone didn’t leave any place for a conversation.

“Nice sweater,” Sam said when Aelin turned back the camera to only herself, leaving Rowan to his brooding. “Though, I admit I thought you were more like the type of woman to dress fancy for Yulemas.”

Aelin laughed, “You’re right, I am. I just like to put on my presents.” She hid half of her face in her new sweater, she absolutely loved it.

“Will I be allowed to know what you wore?”

Aelin made a humming noise, pretending to think, “I don’t know, have you been nice?”

“Incredibly so.”

Aelin giggled and winked at him, “I’ll send you some pics.”

Beside her, Rowan made a noise of disgust. It took her a few seconds to get what Rowan must have understood, she opened her mouth wide, hitting him on the shoulder, “Not this kind of pics, you perv!”

Sam was laughing, “Well, not that I’d say no.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, “Of course you wouldn’t, have you seen me? Men beg for me.”

“And don’t count me an exception.”

Aelin laughed but was cut when Rowan rolled on his side, one of his hands landing on her stomach. His hand was low enough not to brush her breast but high enough to make her heart go wild, feeling his warmth through the two layers of clothes she had on. She wondered what it would feel like to have his hand in contact with her skin, what it would feel like higher.

She felt a wave of heat in her veins, she needed to think about anything else than sinful thoughts about her best friend. She looked at Sam who was still smiling but his brows were slightly furrowed, his eyes fixed on Rowan’s hand. Well, apparently it was high enough for it to be seen in the camera. “What are you doing?” She asked Rowan.

He shrugged, his eyes closed and head tucked close to her shoulder. “Tired,” he muttered, making Aelin chuckle softly.

“Well,” she started, “I’m gonna go, or you wanted to tell me something?” She asked Sam.

He shook his head, smiling fondly, “No, just wanted to wish you a Happy Yulemas.”

“Happy Yulemas, Sam.”

“Bye, Aelin,” he smiled and hung up, letting Aelin put her phone on her nightstand before turning around, back against Rowan’s front. Rowan re-adjusted, his hand slipping around her waist and encircling it, tucking her closer to him.

They stayed in silence for a while, Aelin almost falling asleep if it wasn’t for Rowan’s hand sending jolts of electricity through her body every time it moved. “He likes you,” Rowan said, his breath tickling her neck.

“Hm?”

“Sam,” Rowan clarified, not moving from where he lay, ”He likes you.”

Aelin scoffed, “Nah, he’s just being playful.”

“You don’t call a girl just to wish her a happy Yulemas unless you like her.”

Aelin thought about it for a second, “Well, it’s one-sided, then.”

It was Rowan’s turn to scoff, “Sure.”

It was clear he didn’t believe her, “It’s true, yeah we’re flirting but it’s just how I’m friendly with people.”

“You don’t joke about sending me nudes,” Rowan said. She didn’t like talking about this with him, she didn’t like how hot it made her feel.

Aelin shrugged, “Yeah, but it’s because you’re you.”

His hand stopped stroking her stomach for a second before starting again, “Yeah, true.”

His voice had some edge, and she wanted to ask why, wanted to ask what she said that troubled him. It was easier not to joke about these things with him, not after all these longing looks. She didn’t want to jeopardize their friendship.

But she didn’t dare, so Aelin fell asleep in Rowan’s arms, to the sound of his breathing and she couldn’t help but think she loved being home.

❆—❆—❆—❆

“This is humiliating,” Rowan grunted, looking around, trying to see if anyone on the street was looking at him.

Aelin rolled her eyes, knocking to the door another time, “It’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

Aelin wanted to reply but she was cut off by Lorcan who had just opened the door, the bastard had just burst out laughing. Rowan crossed his arms, as if it would help him hide.

“Oh, man,” Lorcan kept laughing. If Aelin could kill him she would, she hated the man. “How much is she paying you for this?”

“Not enough,” Rowan answered. Aelin rolled her eyes, stepping past Lorcan. Rowan, as usual, was even more dramatic than her. She only showed him what costume she wanted to do and even if he seemed hesitant, he had accepted after one pretty smile or two.

When she entered the room, Lysandra and Elide were drinking and their smiles grew when they saw Aelin. “How the hell did you do that with your hair?” Aedion asked, only managing to make Aelin roll her eyes.

Rowan stepped behind her, and Aelin could see it on Aedion’s face, he wanted to laugh. His cheeks became red and he was biting his lips. “Don’t. You. Dare. Laugh.”

It was too late, Aedion laughed and so did Fenrys, Connall, and Vaughan who entered the room at that moment. At least, Elide and Lysandra had the decency to turn their heads to hide their giggle. Aelin didn’t, she laughed, softer than the guys but she still laughed. He did look ridiculous, but Aelin did, too. Both Rowan and Aelin had shared a bottle of wine while getting ready, needing some courage before going out in the street in their current outfit.

Aedion tried to stop laughing, “She dressed you as the Grinch?”

Rowan rolled his eyes and looked at Aelin, “Thank you for that.”

Aelin didn’t understand, they were a cool Grinch and Cindy Lou! It was a classic, and even while being modest, Aelin had to admit she had nailed their costumes. Aelin wanted to keep teasing him, but from the way he stood she knew he was really uncomfortable. His breathing was ragged and she could see his hands sweating, she couldn’t let him stay this way.

She was hit by a wave of guilt and the next second she grabbed Rowan’s hand, dragging him to the bathroom, telling their friends that they will be there in a few minutes.

Rowan ended up sitting on a stool, Aelin bending over him as she used as many make-up removers as was needed to get the green off his face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, throwing away cotton.

Rowan shook his head, “Don’t be. I just… I just panicked.”

Aelin frowned, “Why? I’m not trying to diminish what you feel, I’m just trying to understand. Nobody wanted to be mean.”

His jaw clenched as his muscles froze, Aelin kept cleaning his face and neck, giving him as much time as he needed. Aelin yelped as she felt hands on her thighs, she was brought closer to Rowan until she straddled him. Rowan’s body was so close to hers. Her breathing was ragged, too, now and she was sure her cheeks were red crimson. “Is this okay?” Rowan demanded, vulnerability in his eyes as he put his hands on her hips.

Aelin nodded, and she chuckled as she tried to forget about the tension his touch brought to her body, “Why do we always finish this way in bathrooms?”

Rowan chuckled, trailing his hands up her body until they finished in her hair and he started undoing her braids. She’d yell at him under any other circumstances, she had spent a very long time on her hair, but she let him do so. Her hands found his neck, her thumb gently caressing his jaw, “Is this okay?”

It was his turn to nod. His skin was hot under her touch, his cheeks slightly flushed. He really was beautiful, even with the few strains of green on his skin. “I panicked, I… I do that a lot, lately. I mean, I always did but it's gotten worse recently.”

He looked up at her, and his eyes were full of fear. She smiled, encouraging him to speak, “There is something I didn’t tell you. I was scared, not of you or your reaction but I was kind of scared of admitting it, you know?”

“You can tell me everything,” She told him softly, stroking the hair at the base of his neck. He must be confiding in her thanks to the alcohol, needing a bit of the liquid courage.

He was still playing with her hair, she would let him do it forever if it helped him, “I’ve seen a therapist on campus, my coach made me see her because I had a pretty bad panic attack after a game. It wasn’t the first time but this one… This one had been hard. Anyway, I’ve been diagnosed with anxiety.”

He rushed to finish speaking, looking away. “Oh, Rowan,” Aelin breathed.

“I just panicked when everyone looked at me. I can do it with your teasing because I know you, but if it’s with someone else…”

His eyes were on the floor, “Hey, look at me.” He did, his hands going back to her hips. “It’s okay, I’m here and I’ll always be. I know I can be a lot sometimes, but please don’t ever hesitate to tell me no.”

“It’s not you, Ae, it’s me, I’m just always trying to think of everyone and make everyone happy.”

Aelin took his head between her hands, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “Think of you, first.”

“Not when you’re around,” he breathed. Aelin’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes automatically drifting to his lips.

Her blood pounded in her ears as she admired the curve of his rosy lips, her entire body burned as his right hand slowly rose to her neck, his warm skin inflaming hers. She heard his breathing quicken, too. At the same time, they looked up into each other’s eyes.

He was the same Rowan she had always known, but Aelin saw him differently. She saw him through desire and want and it changed everything. She looked down at his lips when his lips started getting closer and closer to hers.

Her hand reached for his hair, pulling it slightly as her eyes fluttered close. It seemed to decide him, because the next second, time stopped and Rowan's lips were on hers.

His lips were soft on hers, the kiss tentative. When his fingers slipped into her hair she let out a low moan. At this, the kiss completely changed tone, his lips parting to let in her tongue. She pulled his hair a little more, the hand that had been resting on her hips sliding to her ass. She gripped him closer, she moved her hips, trying to close all the distance between their bodies.

Her stomach twisted in a knot as his tongue slid in her mouth, she didn’t care anymore. She didn’t care that it was her best friend she was kissing, that she shouldn’t be doing this at all, that she had drunk all afternoon at home, and that even if he drank less than her, he still did.

She rolled her hips, her toes curling in her shoes as he let out a throaty noise, setting all her nerves on fire. She needed more, she needed him. The smell of him, the taste of him, made it impossible to think. She could die happy at this moment, happy that she had the chance to do this.

She wanted more, she wanted him to slip his hand under her shirt and start touching the breasts she had caught him staring at so many times, she wanted his fingers there, she wanted his mouth. Everyone always called Aelin a wildfire, but she had never burned as she did in Rowan Whitethorn’s arms.

When his phone started ringing Aelin started being aware of what was around them. She was at Elide’s house, in her bathroom, on Rowan’s lap. Shit, she was kissing Rowan. Rowan cut the kiss, going for his phone. For a second, she believed he would turn it off and start kissing her again as she would beg him to do. She was like a junkie, ready to do anything for her next fix.

But Rowan didn’t do this, no, the hand on her ass left this place, doing for his phone, too. Her body felt cold without his touch. Aelin was breathless, but the desire left her veins the moment she saw his frown.

Aelin looked down, her mother was calling him. It was her turn to frown, she took the phone in her back pocket and realized she had been in Do Not Disturb mode and had missed three phone calls from her mother. “Shit,” she breathed, “Answer.”

Rowan did, but Aelin felt too close to him, after what they just did she couldn’t stay this close. “Hey, Evalin. Is everything okay?”

Aelin stood, she splashed her face with cold water, cold enough to burn. She needed a clearer mind. What had she done? Rowan had just confided in her and then the next thing she knew, they were kissing.

“What.” Rowan’s voice was cold, cold as ice. Aelin turned around and her heart started pounding for a whole other reason than desire. His entire body was frozen, his jaw clenching. “No, no. I’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

She heard her mother speak but she couldn’t hear exactly what. Rowan looked up at her and she hated the way he looked at her. Long gone was the desire and fondness that was in his eyes before the kiss. His gaze was hard, so hard that she had to look away. “Yeah, she’s with me. We’ll leave now.”

He didn’t say bye or anything else before hanging up and standing, leaving the bathroom without a look back at Aelin. She stood there, stunned, for a few seconds and then walked after Rowan. Rowan was already downstairs when she reacted to him, and he was speaking with Aedion. “Can you drive us to the hospital?”

To what? Oh no, oh no, no. Somebody was hurt. And from Rowan’s reaction, she knew it wasn’t Aelin’s father and since her mother called them, it wasn’t her either. Lily and Ben. It was one of them.

Aedion didn’t ask any questions and nodded, walking outside under everyone’s worried looks. Rowan didn’t look once at her, he didn’t even sit next to her on the drive to the hospital, choosing the passenger seat.

❆—❆—❆—❆

When they arrived at the hospital, Aelin understood quickly who wasn’t okay. Lily was crying in Evalin’s arms, Rhoe standing beside them as he paced through the entire waiting room. Lily looked up when Rowan, Aelin and Aedion entered the room.

“How is he?” Rowan breathed, Lily didn’t answer, she only stood and hugged her son.

Aelin didn’t want to watch her aunt crying, so she walked to her dad. “Dad, what’s happening?”

Rhoe let out a long breath, “Rowan didn’t tell you?”

Aelin shook her head, folding her arms to try to get warm. This room was so cold and she only wore a thin dress. “He didn’t speak a lot once he got mom on the phone.”

Rhoe let out a long breath, passing a hand over his face. This situation seemed to drain him, he was probably trying to keep it straight for Evalin and Lily. “Ben started throwing up a lot of blood, and then he passed out. He’s with the doctors now, we’re still waiting for his results.”

Aelin's bottom lip began to tremble and before she could cry, Rhoe pulled her by the shoulder and brought her to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him close. "It's gonna be okay, Fireheart." He whispered and kissed the top of her head.

When Aelin turned her head, Rowan was still holding his mother close while Aedion tried to speak to Evalin. At least no one was alone.

Aelin hated this, Yulemas’s time was supposed to be happy, it was supposed to be full of laughter and love. They weren’t supposed to spend the night at the hospital, but they still did.

“Do you want anything?” Aelin asked her mother, she had been looking after Lily for hours now and to be honest, Evalin looked exhausted. Aelin had been waiting for three hours and she needed to stretch her legs.

Evalin nodded after looking at Lily’s sleeping body, “A coffee. Dark, please, Fireheart.”

Aelin smiled and walked to the coffee shop, she didn’t know where Rowan was, he had told them he went for a walk an hour ago. Aelin had texted him but he didn’t answer, Aedion had told her to give him space. She didn’t know how to do this, whenever Rowan or Aelin had wanted to be alone before, they had done it together.

When she heard someone getting angry, kicking on a distributor, she knew where he was. “Ro?”

He turned, anger clear in his eyes, “This fucking machine stole my money.”

“You won’t get anything by kicking it.”

He shrugged, “It doesn’t hurt to try.”

Aelin sighed, walking closer to him. He avoided her gaze, looking straight at the distributor. “Talk to me, Rowan.”

No answer, his jaw clenched. She reached out, touching his arm but before she could grab his hand he yanked away from her. “Don’t do that,” he told her, voice harder than she had ever heard. Her hand let go of him, too stunned. “Don’t touch me like that.”

He looked at her then, and she would have rather him ignore her than look at her this way. She couldn’t bear the look of contempt he threw at her. “Don’t shut me out.”

He laughed but there was no humor in it, “Why can’t you take a fucking hint?”

Aelin backed down, “You’re clearly not okay. Please, stop this.”

“Just because I kissed you doesn’t mean I want you by my side to hold my hand as a girlfriend would. I was drunk, and I had a hot girl in front of me. It didn’t mean anything, in case you were wondering.”

Rowan had never been mean to her this way, he never had been mean on purpose as he was now. It was the worst, she knew he was doing it on purpose, that he was pushing her away, but it still hurt.

“Good, because I hated every second of it.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

They looked at each other and she hoped he couldn’t read the lie in her eyes, she wanted to play it indifferently. Rowan was wrong, the kiss had meant something. It was the first thing that damaged their friendship. Aelin looked away, “Go back in the waiting room, I’ll get you your favorite snack. They might come back with news.”

Rowan seemed to hesitate, but then he nodded. “Thanks, Ace. You’re great.”

He walked away but Aelin had something on her heart, she might regret it later, Hellas, she was sure to regret it later, but she still said it. “Hey, Ro?”

He turned around, a brow arched. “You’re my best friend, I…” She stopped there, unable to say what she wanted to say, but she knew he knew.

Aelin was sure she would pass out from how fast her heart was beating, “See you in a minute.”

And this time he really walked away, leaving Aelin standing in the middle of the hall like the idiot she was.

Oh gods, what had she done?

————

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[snelbz]

Tempting the Fates {Chapter 1}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

A/N: Fun fact about this one, y’all. I wrote the first chapter over 3 years ago and it was for a completely different story. This one has evolved on it's own and Tara and I are so excited to finally share it with you.

Word Count: 3493

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist 

Zeus

– King of the gods and ruler of Mount Olympus; god of the sky, lightning, thunder and law.

The waves lapped against the sand as Aelin sighed. Strong hands rubbed the muscles in her back and worked out the kinks in her neck as the warm sun heated her body. The smell of the salt water filled her senses and she settled into the cushioned chaise. Another set of hands set a fruity looking drink with a little pink umbrella on the table next to her head. She smiled at it.

“Can we get you anything else, miss?”

Aelin opened her mouth to tell them exactly what they could do to her.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Aelin’s eyes snapped open and she glared at her phone, chiming at her to get up.

She groaned, reaching for the offending device and silenced it, pulling her pillow over her head. She began to doze back off when her bedroom door flew open, smacking into the dresser on the wall behind it. She sat bolt upright and found her roommate leaning against the doorframe, a bowl of cereal in her hands and a gleam of mischief in her emerald eyes.

“Rise and shine, princess,” Lysandra drawled. Aelin just continued to scowl at her roommate. The bright warmth of the sun in her dream faded away as she looked out the window. Ice coated it and she could see a fresh layer of snow coated everything. “Aedion is about to be up, too. If you’d like any chance of taking a warm shower before class today, I’d suggest-.”

She was up and in the hallway before Lysandra could even finish her sentence.

Thirty minutes later, she sat on the kitchen counter, hair wrapped up in a towel, eating an apple and going over her schedule for the thousandth time. Her four classes were split into two days each, mercifully giving her Friday off.

Her cousin, long golden hair tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, came into the kitchen, pulling the jug of milk out of the fridge. He leaned on the counter across from her and drank straight from the plastic bottle, glaring daggers at her.

“Can I help you with something,” she asked him sweetly.

“You used the last of the hot water,” Aedion sulked, taking another swig.

She looked over, blowing him a quick kiss. “Maybe you should have gotten up earlier.”

He rolled his eyes, identical to her own, and came over to look at her computer screen. “What classes do you have this semester?”

She scrolled down the list, reading them off. “Pathophysiology, Caring for the Childbearing Family, Health and Gerontology, a few labs, and Mythology.��

Aedion’s eyebrows pulled together as she read the last one. “That doesn’t seem like it will be very helpful to a nurse.”

She shrugged, closing the laptop and sliding off the counter. “I needed one last elective. I’ve always been interested in Greek and Roman mythology and it’s a freshman level class. I figured why not study something for fun for once?”

He couldn’t fault her logic and began pulling ingredients out of the fridge to cook breakfast as Aelin headed back towards her bedroom. “Whatever you’re cooking, make two,” she called over her shoulder. She didn’t even need to look back to know the obscene gesture being flicked in her direction.

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

Aelin was regretting studying something fun for once as she looked at the map of her classes.

All of her classes, save for one, were in the nursing building. Of course, that one other class was all the way across campus, in one of the general education buildings. At least walking there would take her right past her favorite coffee shop on campus and with an eight am every Tuesday and Thursday morning, she knew she’d take full advantage of that.

Thankfully today was a Monday, so she’d be spending the entirety of her day in the nursing building. But first, she had to have coffee. The first day of the semester required coffee.

Aelin parked in one of the student lots close to the nursing building. Throwing her leather bag over her shoulder, she slammed her car door. It was absolutely freezing and she suppressed a growl as she saw soft white flakes drifting toward the ground.

What a great way to start off the semester, she thought.

She made her way across campus, hands deep in her pockets and face buried in her scarf. As she crossed the quad, she pulled her phone out to check the time. She still had about twenty minutes to get coffee and get to class. Snow crunched under her boots as she picked up the pace, wanting to be sure she made it on time. Aelin was big on first impressions.

As she approached the door of the café, she reached for the handle, but the door swung open suddenly, slamming into her and knocking her off her feet.

The young girl, eyes wide, apologized profusely but said that she had to get to class and ran off. Aelin was mumbling something about where the freshman could go, when she heard a deep chuckle and a tan, tattooed hand appeared in front of her face. She glanced up and the air was pulled from her lungs.

The owner of the hand was a handsome man in his mid-twenties, with hair the color of the snow swirling around his head and green eyes. Not emerald like Lysandra’s, but deep and rich like a pine tree. A tattoo, similar to the one on his hand, snaked up his neck and onto his face. She’d be willing to bet it ran down the whole length of his arm. She’d love to find out for herself. He smiled at her, a wicked, beautiful smile. She could only stare at the gorgeous stranger as she gripped her hand in his. He lifted her to her feet.

“You okay?” He asked. Aelin nodded, pulling her hand out of his. He opened the door and motioned for her to go ahead of him. She stepped into the delicious warmth and immediately got her wits back.

“I’m Aelin,” she said, giving him a man eater’s smile.

“Rowan,” he said, a slight incline of his head in acknowledgment.

“Thank you, Rowan,” she said, letting his name slip out of her lips like a purr, as she’d heard Lysandra do it to her cousin many times. She knew it drove Aedion crazy and for some reason, that’s exactly what she wanted to do to this man. She walked to the line. He got in line behind her and she pulled out her phone, figuring that would be that. A bit of shameless flirting with a stranger was never a bad thing. She ordered her coffee and was surprised when the barista handed her the paper cup, a phone number written on the side. She quirked an eyebrow at the girl, who gave Aelin a knowing glance and looked over her shoulder. Aelin turned around, meeting a pine green gaze, and smiled at him. She headed back out into the frost and snow, pulling her phone out to snap a picture of the cup to send to Lysandra, knowing her best friend would love this.

Finding the classroom in the nursing building where she’d spent the bulk of the past two years was a breeze and she made it into the classroom with seven minutes to spare. She enjoyed her time with Professor Hafiza in the fall and anticipated she’d like her this semester again, too. Nonetheless, she settled in about three-quarters of the way up and looked at the coffee cup again.

Feeling bold, she entered the number into her phone and sent a quick text.

Any chance you want to sweep me off of my feet again and grab drinks later? I’m free anytime after 5:00. – Aelin.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

My last class lets out at 6:00 and I have to go to the gym afterward. How does 8:00 sound?

She typed a quick reply and placed her phone back on her desk.

Sounds like a date. The Beer Cellar, on Church Street.

She smirked to herself and glanced down at her watch. 9:58. Not even 10:00 am and the semester was off to a great start.

She unlocked her phone, shooting a quick text to Lysandra, letting her know about her new plans for the evening when she heard the door open and students started to hush.

It wasn’t the most exciting class, Aelin had to admit, but she supposed the information was necessary. Hopefully it wasn’t an indication of how the rest of her semester would go. She needed a little excitement in her schedule, that was for sure.

Aelin liked to be kept on her toes.

After two classes and a crappy salad for lunch from the school cafeteria, Aelin was hurrying across campus and down the street, toward her apartment. Lysandra was nowhere to be found, which meant she was either snuggled up with Aedion somewhere or still in class. Aelin’s bet was on the former.

After organizing her deskspace, Aelin went to her closet, and attempted to pick out what she should wear for the night. It was her first date of the semester, which either meant that it could be a complete win or a complete fail.

She ultimately decided that the sluttier the better.

Laying the gold dress out on her bed, she let herself into the Lysandra’s room, borrowing a pair of strappy black heels she knew her roommate would absolutely approve of and was back out the door, ready to suffer through her first lab of the semester. Three hours was going to drag by, but thankfully, it was only once a week.

And drag by it did, but Aelin wasn’t sure if it was thanks to the monotonous recap of her previous semester’s information or thinking about seeing Rowan again. She usually wasn’t so forward, even though Rowan had clearly been the one to start it all, giving her his number. But still, she typically would have at least waited a day or two before texting him.

But there was just something about him that she couldn’t get out of her head.

She grabbed her gym bag out of the car, thankful she had a bit of time to get a work out in before she went out. Thanks to tonight, Aelin was a pent up ball of energy and needed to get it out someway. After a solid forty-five minutes on the treadmill and nearly thirty on the free weights, Aelin was heading for the locker room when she noticed a silver head of hair across the gym.

She watched him as he pulled himself up on the bar, his chin going over the piece of metal each time. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, sweat poured down his chest as his arms swelled. Aelin had been right.

That tattoo went across his chest, and all the way down his arm. He did the pull-ups so effortlessly, and Aelin’s mind began to wander to unholy places.

It wasn’t until his feet hit the mat beneath him that she was brought back to reality and hurried into the locker room. If he was here, that meant their date was approaching, and she had to get ready. She checked her phone. It was nearly seven.

Aelin hurried back home and showered. She had once vowed, during her freshman year, that she would avoid the gym showers at all costs and only used them under emergency circumstances. Luckily, her and Lysandra’s apartment was only five minutes from the gym.

After a shower and a full-body shaving session, Aelin was brushing out her long, golden hair and blow drying it until it was flowing freely down her back. She kept her makeup decently simple - at least, that’s how she made it look, and straightened the slight waves out of her hair before putting on her little, golden dress.

Once she had slipped on Lysandra’s heels, she was looking at herself in the mirror and even she had to admit that she was looking hot.

After grabbing her clutch, she hurried down the hallway and into the living room, where she found Lysandra and Aedion snuggled together on the couch, watching a movie.

“Going out with a stranger?” Lysandra asked, brow raised. “I'm so proud of you.”

“Yeah, just keep it in your pants,” Aedion mumbled.

“I thought I’d bring him back here,” she said, winking at Lysandra. “You don’t want to have breakfast together tomorrow?”

“Absolutely not,” Aedion mumbled and Lysandra chuckled, leaning into his embrace.

“Have fun, call me if you need me,” Lysandra called as Aelin blew them a kiss and headed for the door.

Her Uber was waiting when she walked out front and before she knew it, she was walking down the stairs into her favorite bar. Glancing around, she didn’t see Rowan sitting at the bar or any of the booths around the room.

So she bought herself a drink and claimed one of the pool tables, setting her coat and clutch on a bar stool nearby. Over halfway through the game, she felt eyes on her and glanced up to find Rowan standing at the other end of the table. Giving him a smirk, she knocked the cue ball into the yellow-striped 9 ball. It sank into the pocket.

“Playing with yourself?” Rowan asked, and Aelin caught a slight accent that she had missed earlier.

Aelin’s grin widened. “Well, if I’m left hanging, a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do.”

Rowan breathed a laugh. “Fair enough. And if I asked to join?”

“You sure you don’t just want to watch?” she asked, leaning on the table, making sure her cleavage was perfectly visible.

Rowan’s tongue shot out and subtly licked his bottom lip. “Tempting.”

Aelin pushed herself back and grabbed the rack, starting to collect the balls. “Buy me a drink and then we’ll talk.”

Rowan bit his lip to hide his spreading grin. “Fair enough. I’ll be back.”

Aelin watched as he left, watched as he went to the bar and bought her another drink, alongside one for himself. He came back with two glasses. One was the color of the sunrise, the other a caramelly brown.

“Sex on the Beach?” Aelin asked, brow raised.

He shrugged and handed her the glass. “Sounded promising.”

“So… Rowan,” she said, letting his name drag out as she said it. He was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and the black Henley he wore made his hair seem even brighter in the dim light of the bar.

“Aelin,” he purred right back, pulling a pool stick from the wall behind her, nearly boxing her in. She realized then how much larger than her he was.

She loved it.

“I hope your coffee helped you get through the rest of your day,” she said, resetting the game and racking the balls. She glanced at him over her shoulder as she reached into the middle of the table, and he was watching her, staring at her ass.

Slutty was definitely the right option tonight.

“It certainly did, especially considering how boring it was,” he replied, reaching around her for the chalk that rested on the edge of the table. “But when I got your text, it gave me something to look forward to. Even if it made the day last twice as long.”

“Happy I could help.” She picked her drink up and stirred it, before taking a long sip through the straw.

“Would you like to break, or should I?” He asked, nodding to the pool table.

“Let’s see what you can do.”

He grunted as he stepped forward, lined up his stick, and knocked the cue ball into the others. They broke apart, but none of them fell into the pockets. Rowan stood there for a moment, his lips pursed. Meanwhile, Aelin tossed her head back and burst into laughter.

“Alright, alright,” Rowan said, straightening up and turning to face her. “So pool isn’t my thing.”

Aelin stepped up next to him and aimed her stick, leaning over the table, her ass nearly rubbed up against Rowan’s front. “Hopefully you’re better at other things.”

Rowan’s hand brushed along Aelin’s hip, just as she got ready to shoot, causing her shot to go haywire. She spun around, eyes narrowed. “That’s foul play.”

“No one said we were playing fair,” he countered.

“What about playing for drinks?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

He lifted his own eyebrows and he said, “I’ve got an eight am…”

Shrugging, she said, “So do I.” Then she leaned in close, thankful for the three-inch heels she’d pilfered from Lysandra’s closet and breathed into his ear, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re up in time.”

“So sure of how this night is going to go,” he said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear him, and she felt his hand skimming over the curve of her ass. “Fine. We’ll play for drinks.”

It turned out Rowan hadn’t been lying about pool not being his thing. They played three games back to back, and he lost them all, but every time he returned with a drink for Aelin, he had one for himself as well. By the time she dragged him towards the small dance floor in the center of the bar, they were both stumbling and his lips found her neck before his hands even gripped her hips.

His lips were soft, gentle, nothing like she had expected. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe he was just getting tired, perhaps he was usually rough.

But, when his hands found Aelin’s hips and he brought her back into him, she felt that roughness. It seemed Rowan was the best of both worlds. Gentle when prompted, rough beneath the surface.

Aelin turned to him and slung her arms around his neck, bringing his lips to hers. Their mouths crashed into one another, and their bodies slowed until it felt like they were the only two on the dancefloor.

Rowan pulled away, just a little bit, and breathed, his eyes wild, “Aelin-.”

“Take me to your place,” she said, her mouth finding his, once again.

Before she knew what was happening, they were in the backseat of an Uber, unable to keep their hands off of one another. Thanks to it being a college town, the driver didn’t say a word, just dropped them in front of an upscale building, just off the east side of campus.

She noticed how nice it was on the short elevator ride up, but was much more preoccupied by the way his hips pressed into hers. He dragged her along the hall, his lips never leaving hers, until her back was pressed against a cool door and he was fumbling to get it unlocked. It swung wide and she gripped his collar, pulling him inside.

Throwing her clutch and coat by the door, Aelin let her hands dive into his cropped silver hair and he responded by cupping her ass and lifting her up. Her legs were around his waist and he carried her through the apartment and into his bedroom. Neither of them had any delusions about how and where this would end and Aelin felt like she was going to combust as he dropped her on the bed and gazed down at her.

His eyes were full of lust, full of hunger, a wild animal with his eye on his prey. He wasted no time stripping Aelin down and admiring her body with his hands, his tongue, his lips. Rowan may not have been good at pool, but he was right when he said he was far better at other things.

He worshipped her, and Aelin knew it wasn’t the alcohol when she was sent into utter bliss.

When he rolled off of her, breath still uneven, Aelin watched as he dealt with the condom and fell back into the bed beside her.

She cleared her throat. “I can go…if you want me to.”

Rowan turned to look at her, and she could tell he was still just as drunk as she was. “What? No, of course not. You said you’ve got an eight am, too, right?” She nodded and he tugged on her hand, pulling her closer to him. They were both still gloriously naked and she could feel the heat radiating off of his body. “Then we can both make sure the other is up so we aren’t late. Or too hungover.”

Aelin snorted softly, resting her head on his chest. “I think that particular ship has sailed.”

“You’re probably right,” he mumbled and she could tell he was already starting to doze. She was on the brink of sleep herself.

Aelin decided then, as her eyes closed, that she didn’t care if she was hungover in the morning, or if she was late to her eight am. A night being praised by Rowan had been perfectly worth it.

[wearywinchester]

Something Old and Something New — Part One

Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When life takes a turn and you take an unexpected break from college in Stanford with your best friend Sam, you return home to your job at your family’s co-owned garage. You return home to work alongside the guy you thought you hated—Dean Winchester.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: mild angst, mentions of death, mild swearing, fluff

A/N: Part one to my mechanic!Dean series!

Kansas.

It’s always been home to you no matter what, even if your time was split between here on summer break and the apartment you shared with Sam while the two of you went to school together. It was somewhere that never changed despite your ever changing life, and that was something you felt you needed amidst everything swirling through your mind as of the last six months. A place that was always there to welcome you back home with open arms no matter how few and far between your stays back there were. It was home and it was familiar.

You sighed as you looked out of the car window, gaze focused on just about everything you could see ever since you landed at the airport just barely half an hour earlier. You had to admit you were happy to be home for more than just a short period of time, you missed it here. But you wished it were under better circumstances.

Sam was still back at Stanford surely with his nose stuck in a book far too thick for you to think about without giving yourself a headache, and while the thought made you smile, you couldn’t help the nagging feeling knowing you should be there too. You were nearing the tail end of your time in law school, having had one year left before you’re expected to graduate and get your degree, though you were feeling a little less excited than you think you should be. You were home instead of over there after all.

“For itchin’ to be back home, you sure don’t look like it,” Benny chuckled from the driver’s seat, glancing at you as your lips pursed and your brow quirks up. He nudges you with his elbow to accompany his words, his amusement only increasing at your grumpy expression.

Benny.

He was your parents best friend for as long as you can remember, the closest thing you’ve got to family since your parents passed away a few years back. He was an uncle to you just as much as Bobby Singer was to Sam and Dean, and you knew you wouldn’t trade him for the world. Even when he’s giving you a hard time like in that very moment.

“I wasn’t exactly planning on taking this kind of a break either, Benny,” you huff, shifting in your seat. You turned your head at the quiet sound of his laugh, your gaze narrowing. “‘S not funny.”

“You’re right, it’s not. But that pout you got goin’ on is.”

When he looks at you once more it takes all but a few seconds for you to turn your head and look away, eyes rolling as you bite the inside of your cheek to stifle your smile. You shake your head, knowing it’s no use to even try.

But it’s true, you weren’t expecting to take this kind of a break this far into college because you weren’t expecting to fall out of love with your choice in a career. You made it this far—you were twenty-four and on the brink of becoming a lawyer along with your best friend Sam. But somewhere between here and there you found yourself mulling over the possibility that maybe you didn’t quite like this kind of job as much as you initially thought. You chalked it up to burnout at first, a reasonable assumption, but after returning back from summer break last year feeling less than refreshed and ready to start the new year of studies, you weren’t feeling that same spark.

You were beginning to feel like that profession wasn’t quite the right fit for you, and that was when you decided to come home.

“You’ll figure it out, you know. You always do, Y/n/n,” he says after a little while.

The smile his words pull from you is more bittersweet than anything, because you felt so far from figuring it out that it was near laughable. If you weren’t going to be a lawyer, and you were entertaining the thought more and more every minute, you didn’t have a single clue as to what you’d do with your life. Going into the family business wasn’t exactly an ideal option—you knew your way around a car but you don’t think you could spend day in and day out being a receptionist forever either. You enjoyed what you did at the garage when you work, but you wanted to do more.

You knew that, you just didn’t know what.

“Sam doesn’t even know why I’m taking a break, that’s how ‘figured out’ I have this whole thing. He thinks it’s just ‘cause I miss home,” you say with a sigh, slumping back in your seat.

“You don’t miss home?” He asks, humor in his tone as he raises a brow in faux offense.

You flash him a half annoyed glance, lips pursed only momentarily. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Your frown has him smiling all the more as you sulk, your mood only fueling his good one because that’s just how Benny Lafitte is. Not that he likes seeing you in misery, he just sees that everything will work out in time, even if you don’t.

“C’mon, Y/n, lighten up a little, kid!” He says, as upbeat as he can be as he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. You roll your eyes and smile a little more. “There’s that smile.”

You shake your head as a laugh falls from your lips, huffing out another sigh as you look at him. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Is there any other way to be?”

You let out an amused huff then, feeling just a little bit lighter than you had when your plane first landed, though the tension in the very pit of your stomach still remained tightly coiled in its ever present knot.

There was a lot for you to think about in the time that you had here, your mind always wandering back to how you’d tell Sam. He loved it there and it was clear to see that, it was clear to see he fit the job and was leaps and bounds more enthusiastic about it than you. You thought about the extra studying you’d have to do if you decide to go back, and the studying you should probably keep doing if you want to be consistent and retain what you’ve learned. But the mere thought itself was something that made your head spin, something that made you even more content with the idea to leave that behind and stay here.

Surely Sam would understand it.

It wasn’t more than five minutes before Benny pulled his truck into the parking lot of the garage, the one you’ve been to a million times over by now. It was just the same as you left it last—a little rough around the edges but it was like a home away from home and you’d never think otherwise.

“Dean’s real excited to see you,” he jests, nudging your arm. His laughter is immediate at the sight of your expression, a scoff leaving your lips.

“I’ll bet he is,” you mumble, unbuckling your seatbelt.

“I thought you two grew out of that phase by now.”

“Who said it’s a phase, Benny?” You smile.

Dean Winchester.

The one who stepped on the backs of your shoes as a kid, the one who took the last slice of pie and still will without a beat of hesitation. The one you stole flannels from as teens, especially the ones he wore most often just to hear him shout and complain when they’d gone missing. It was a habit that led you to find the stash of candy bars he’d kept hidden in his closet, snagging them not so discreetly only for him to turn around and get you right back.

The two of you strived to get on each other’s nerves and it showed to just about anyone who had the pleasure of spending so much as five minutes with the two of you in the same room. You bickered even on the best of days, always a constant string of eye rolls and curses mumbled under the others breath in complaint. He was just as stubborn as you, and maybe, just maybe have you met your match.

You hopped out of the truck and closed the door, smoothing your hands over your jeans. You squinted as you looked upward, laughing softly. “You still haven’t fixed the sign?”

The ‘s’ that was supposed to be upright at the end of ‘repairs’ had been dangling crookedly since the last time you were here, looking comical and out of place with the rest of the sign but you can’t say you were surprised that it looked the very same.

“What do you mean still? It hasn’t even been that long,” he defended, scratching his head as he bit back his grin.

“Benny, I was here eight months ago and it looks exactly the same,” you say, brow raised as you squint at him with an amused smile.

When he does nothing but shrug his shoulders and hope you take his smile as a peace offering, you simply shake your head and laugh, pulling open the front door and walking inside.

The familiarity hit you once you walked in, the slightly crammed and cluttered place smelling a little bit like gasoline and a lot like the lunch everyone had on the collective lunch break. The radio in the corner was playing classic rock, the station never having changed from it unless you wanted to get on Dean’s nerves a little bit and switch it to some pop music he swore he absolutely dreaded. You knew better than to believe that when you caught him singing some lyrics under his breath as he worked on Baby after hours.

You leaned over the counter, the desk you called your very own and your pictures were still there, little knick knacks still in there place but everything was just a little bit grease smudged from one of the guys taking up reception.

“Look who’s back in town.”

You stilled, gaze shifting upwards in an eye roll as a huff exhales through your nose. You knew that voice anywhere, it was impossible not to. It was the voice of the very one who strived to get on your nerves with nearly every word he spoke because that’s just how he is.

Dean.

You spun on your heel and met his gaze, the irritated expression you’d held for the older Winchester faltering for just a moment at the very sight of him standing before you before it quickly returned with just a little less annoyance than it once had. The smirk he wore was enough to do just that, a bit of grease smeared across his cheek with some matching stains on his shirt.

“Deanie,” you greet, his expression fading in favor of a more hardened one at the nickname you knew he hated.

It didn’t last very long, the very corners up his mouth quirking upwards in a way that was all too telling that he was undoubtedly up to something. You knew him by now yet you were still too caught up with something about him to realize it before it was too late.

“Y’miss me, sweetheart?” He asks, tugging you in close for a hug. He gave you a squeeze just to hear you whine an fuss over the fact that he’d been sweaty from the heat of working all afternoon, that and the grease that most definitely was getting all over you.

“Dean,” you grumble, shoving at his shoulders halfheartedly, “get off!”

He let go with a chuckle, his head tipping back in a louder bout of laughter at the sight of the grease having smeared on your cheek and the frown on your lips. Fighting your smile was harder than you cared to admit in that moment, and you hated the way that maybe you missed the feel of his arms wrapped around you once he let go of his embrace. You shook your head partly in a bit of annoyance and partly to shake those thoughts away, arms having been crossed over your chest when he looked at you.

“You got a little somethin’ on your face.” He licks the pad of his thumb and reaches forward teasingly to wipe it off, your hand pushing his away.

“What’s the matter, law school too boring for you now?” He jests lightheartedly, slinging the rag in his hand up to rest on his shoulder.

You roll your eyes in response as you look away briefly. That’s when he saw a flicker of something different cross your expression for a mere moment, something he knows is more than just a little bit of annoyance. He knows you a bit better than you realize. It’s different but you quickly mask it with a smirk of your own and he thinks nothing more of it.

“Don’t you have a car to fix?”

“Don’t you have a textbook to read?”

You scrunch up your nose and he scrunches his, and you’re seconds from snagging the rag off his shoulder before the phone rings. You round the desk as he leans his elbows on the counter. He’s got a smirk on his lips as you shoo him away, more adamant the more the phone rings as he reaches over and snags a piece of candy from the jar you always kept. Your glare is one that he basks in as he pops the candy in his mouth.

“Winchester and Lafitte Automotive Repairs, this is Y/n speaking,” you say as you answer the phone, missing the way he smiles to himself and shakes his head as he walks away.

—

You sighed as the old clock on the wall behind your desk strikes seven o’clock, the last customer of the day having just picked up their car to take home. The stuffy heat had cooled off some now the the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky now that evening rolled around, the fan set up in the corner helping just a little bit. Everything was cast in a golden orange hue as the sunlight streamed in, carrying with it the shadows of the pine trees standing tall on the other side of the road.

Your work day was cut a few hours shorter than it usually was since your arrival earlier that afternoon, but you were still just as tired, body fatigued from traveling. You were more than grateful that most of your stuff was already in your apartment here, the only things you’d brought having been your clothes and things you’d miss if you left it back at your place you shared with Sam.

“This place never runs quite as good without you, you know,” Benny says, nudging your shoulder as he passes behind you to snag his keys from the hook.

You smiled at his words, nodding softly as the sentiment brightened your mood a little bit more. “You ready to go?”

You stood from your chair and pushed it in as you stretched, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. The look on Benny’s face when he’d turned around to face you was one that had you curious, cautious at that. It was apologetic and amused all in one, something that was far too indicative that what he was about to say was something you didn’t want to hear.

“Don’t be mad, but—”

You tilt your head and your expression falls neutral as your lips purse. “Why do I feel like I’m going to be mad?”

He started to pass you and round the corner, almost as if to dodge a bullet, said bullet being just about anything you could throw before he spoke up.

“I can’t take you back home, so…” he takes note of your souring mood and he holds a finger up as you walk out from behind the counter with crossed arms. “So, Dean’s gonna drive you home. I already put your bags in his car earlier.”

“You what?”

The two words were doubly shocked and equally displeased as you and the green eyed Winchester spoke them at the same time. When you turned you saw him wiping his hands on a rag before tossing it to the side, his brows furrowed.

“Do me a favor and try not to kill each other,” Benny smiled, one that was far too innocent for his own good because you knew for a fact he’d done it on purpose.

But he said nothing more as he tossed Dean his keys, kissing the top of your head before he slipped out the front door. You turned to look at Dean who’d looked at you, a mirrored look of pursed lips and furrowed brows shared between you two as silence engulfed the place for just a few moments.

“I call radio,” you say, his brow raising when you head towards the door.

“Like hell you do,” he calls after you.

You were lucky it was only a ten minute drive to get there, the tension thick as you got in the car. He turned the radio up with a sly smile and a laugh at your glare, dodging your swat to his shoulder.

“Do you listen to anything other than the same five songs, Dean?” You huff, elbow on the door as you rest your head on your hand.

“Not a chance, sweetheart,” he says, tapping the steering wheel as he pulls out of the gravel parking lot, engine revving as he sped down the road.

You look over at him to see the content smile sitting pretty on his lips, his arm resting on the edge of the open window as his hand settled at the very top of the door, the other rested loosely on the wheel. That very same Zepplin song was playing on the radio that you were convinced he listens to daily, in fact, you knew he did because that’s how Dean is.

“What?” He asks, amused curiosity in his tone.

“Nothing,” you say as you look away, biting the inside of your cheek.

“The hot shot lawyer’s got nothin’ to say, I’m shocked,” he says, faux surprise coating his tone.

“Will you cool it with the lawyer talk?” You huff, staving off the anger in your words with a soft shove to his shoulder.

To be fair, he didn’t know just why it was that you were back here earlier than you should be, he was just yanking your chain like he always did. But it became abundantly clear to him that there was more to it than just a little annoyance. That, paired with the look on your face earlier made it all the more clear for him to see that.

He looked over at you with furrowed brows, the dimples by the corners of his mouth appearing as he looked at you briefly before turning his attention back to the road. He may have cracked jokes and got on your nerves just as much as you did the same to him, but he knew you more than you realized, knew when something was more than just a joke to you. You’ve got this frown that you don’t even know you have, and you bite your lip. He even notices that you tap your foot too—he noticed the little things but he won’t admit it.

His jaw clenched as he turned the radio down a little, speeding up a bit more down the open road.

You’re quick to get out when you arrive at your apartment. It was a nice little place, a house rather, one split right down the middle. You’ve got the right side and Mrs. Allen’s got the left, a sweet older lady that’s lived there far longer than you. She makes a point to tell you you’re her favorite neighbor, and she makes a point to say something about you and Dean every time she sees him that makes your eyes roll.

You knew for a fact she’d say something in the morning.

You snagged one of your bags from the trunk and he grabbed the other, slinging it over his shoulder.

“You don’t have to carry my stuff, you know. I can do it myself,” you say, but you make no effort to grab it from him.

“I know you can.”

You sigh as you fish your keys from your pocket as you continue on up the walkway and up the steps of your porch, sticking them in the door. You drop your stuff down just inside the door with a sigh, grabbing the bag from his outstretched hand before you step inside and turn the front light on.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, shifting on his feet as the words sit on the tip of his tongue. The very words he’s been thinking about since you’d gotten upset in the car even if you wouldn’t dare to admit it.

“Good night, Dean,” you say, offering a half smile as you go to close the door.

His palm presses to the door almost before you move to close it, and he steps forward a step or two. Your brows furrow as you lean against the doorframe, watching as his mouth opens and closes a few times, and he’s lost for words for a few moments. You don’t push and you don’t pry as you stand there curiously, arms having been crossed over your chest.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” he starts, hesitant and a bit quieter as he scratches the back of his neck and clears his throat. “In the car, I mean.”

You stand there, and it takes a beating silence before he meets your gaze. The sincerity in his voice isn’t something you hear all too often in your direction, having always been jokes and witty sarcasm painted over his words but this, this was a little different.

“S’okay,” you say, pushing yourself off the doorframe.

He smiles then, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he nods. “I’ll uh, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

You nod at his words, the corner of your mouth tugging upwards. “Good night, Winchester.”

You let out the breath you’d been holding when you closed the door, back pressing to it as you tip your head back. The day you had left you more than tired, thoughts running wild with no end in sight. But the day wasn’t half bad, not really. The two of you had gotten on each other’s nerves every moment you get to do so, but maybe you missed him a little bit more than you thought. Maybe through the layers of wit and remarks there was a little part of you that missed the green eyed Winchester but you’d never admit it.

Unbeknownst to you, maybe he did too.

The rumble of his engine was clear as he pulled away and drove down the street, a huff leaving your lips as you rub your face as you lock the door behind you for the night.

—

Series taglist: @myloversgone @dean-is-sams-apple-pie

General taglist: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @campingmonkey

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Love is in the Lines

Nesta Archeron x Cassian - Tattoo Convention Oneshot

Nesta loses Cassian at a tattoo convention.

Written for Nessian month. @illyrianet

Prompt 1: Tattoo Artist

Prompt 2: We came to the…together, and now you’re lost.

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language

2319 words

*******

“Cassian, I swear to the mother, when I find you…” Nesta grumbled to herself for the fourth, no it was the fifth, time in the last twenty minutes.

She pushed through the herds of people crowding the aisle, trying her best to scour every booth for her missing boyfriend.

One moment, he had been standing behind her waiting as she scrutinized a certain design, the next, she turned back around, and he had disappeared.

Deciding she wasn’t going to find him in this row, she turned the corner and began walking down the next aisle starting her search over again.

If she was lucky, she would spot his massive frame sticking out above the clusters of people, but so far luck wasn’t on her side because she’d been walking around the convention hall for almost half an hour now searching for him. Nesta passed each booth looking at the artists and the customers, but they were all strangers.

Getting to the end, she took one last scan over the heavily tattooed convention-goers—most having several visible piercings in their ears, noses, and sporadic other places on the face that she thought would be excruciating to pierce—and wondered what the hell she was doing.

Sighing heavily, Nesta turned and started walking down the next aisle.

Two years ago, if someone had told Nesta she would be wandering around a tattoo convention, she would’ve laughed in their face at the absurdity of it.

A year ago, she’d have rolled her eyes and said that even her ink-covered boyfriend who made her realized she didn’t hate all tattoos, wouldn’t have been able to convince her to spend a day surrounded by the buzzing machines and colorfully covered patrons.

Last week, she considered it.

Being with Cassian had made her learn a lot about herself; one of those things being the fact that she found all of his ink incredibly attractive.

There was something about the way the ink stood out on his tanned skin that made it look like it was supposed to be there. She couldn’t even imagine her boyfriend without his tattoos. The one time she tried, she made a mental image of his arms without the swirling geometric designs and his back without the large bat-like wings, not to mention all the other little designs he had strewn across his body suddenly gone—and she was surprised to find herself dismayed at the lack on ink.

One night, when Nesta was idly tracing some of the lines across his chest, she confessed to Cassian that she wanted to get a small tattoo of her own.

At first, he had been shocked. As much as she loved his designs, he knew she still looked at most people’s tattoos with distaste. In her words, “most of the tattoos I see look like someone stumbled into a shop at four in the morning, drunk out of their mind, and picked out the first thing they saw. And the artist just went with it.”

But Nesta listened whenever he talked about his own designs; about how they all meant something to him. How every design held a memory. Every time he looked at them—whether he was intentionally studying them or when he caught a glimpse of one out of the corner of his eye—he would think about why he got it. Each tattoo made him remember a story, or a person, or some sort of inspiration.

They were reminders, self-expressions, and memories.

Even the one he got when he and his brothers were wasted and thought getting matching tattoos—done by each other, of course—was an amazing idea. He always pointed out that particular tattoo whenever Nesta explained her disdain for the “impulsive permanent decisions” saying that even though the design isn’t great, every time he looks at it he laughs and thinks of the great time he has when he’s with his brothers.

So when Nesta told him she wanted to get a tattoo, Cassian was more than surprised. But as soon as his shock wore off, he got the broadest smile on his face and immediately started asking her questions. What did she want? How long had she wanted one? Color or Black and White? Where on her body? Question after question, and Nesta was glad that Cassian had been thrilled.

Smirking, she remembered what he had told her when she asked him if he thought she would look good with a tattoo.

“Good?” She’d never seen him look more ravenous, already picturing what she would look like with ink covering her body. He cupped her face and looked into her eyes. “Nes, sweetheart, you are already so gorgeous, but, fuck,” he groaned, “you would look so fucking stunning that I don’t know how I’d ever be able to keep my hands off you.”

Then he made sure to show her just how much he liked the idea of tattoos covering her body, using his tongue to trace potential designs across every inch of her skin.

The next day, Cassian showed Nesta the poster for the tattoo convention happening soon which brought dozens of artists together to showcase their work and allow for people to get tattoos done, and admire the different aesthetics and designs.

When Nesta agreed to go with him, she made it very clear she was just looking for inspiration. It was practical, she reasoned, to go to see all kinds of designs in one place so she could get a sense of what exactly she wanted.

She figured he would be attached to her side, wanting to show her everything and point out his favorites.

The last thing she expected was to lose Cassian in the crowd.

Nesta finished eyeing another row of booths, still no sign of her missing, infuriating, boyfriend.

“C’mon Nesta, he said” she muttered as she walked. “It’ll be fun, he said. You’ll get inspired and I’ll be right there with you, he said.”

Nesta just about turned the corner when a booming laugh caught her attention. Zeroing in on the sound she caught sight of Cassian—well, his hair really. The long, dark, wavy strands were pulled up into a bun on top of his head, making his strong jawline covered in artfully groomed stubble stand out.

Nesta sometimes found it hard to stay mad at Cassian because no matter what she was upset about, he always found a way to make her smile. Even unintentionally. Like right now, part of her wanted to strangle him for vanishing on her and making her scour the convention hall for him, but hearing the sound of his laugh softened her and she allowed herself to smile at him before quickly schooling her features and making her way over to where he was sitting.

Sitting.

He was sitting in a reclining chair while the booth’s tattoo artist leaned over him to draw a new piece of artwork on his skin.

Nesta was going to kill him. Seething, she marched towards him.

He brought her here, he disappeared, and then he went off to get a new tattoo—without her.

Cassian’s eyes lit up as he spotted her. “Nes! Check it out, look who’s here.”

For the first time, Nesta looked at who exactly was inking her boyfriend.

“Az?” She blinked, momentarily losing her frustration. “I didn’t know you would be here.”

Azriel dipped his needle into the ink again and let out a low chuckle. Once he deemed enough ink was added, he gave Nesta a rueful smile. “I assumed this one,” he nodded at Cass who was still grinning at her “would show up today, but I thought I could get a couple of hours of actual clients before he took over my booth. I didn’t expect to see you here, though” Azriel concentrated on tracing another line but raised an eyebrow in her general direction.

“Yeah, well, this one,” she imitated Azriel’s tone and nodded at Cassian, “wanted to show me what one of these conventions was like, but apparently he decided it was better to run off and get another tattoo.”

Setting her bag down, Nesta sunk into the chair beside Cassian and crossed her arms.

“I’ve been wandering around for more than thirty minutes looking for you, asshole”

Az snorted, but didn’t comment, just kept drawing something that Nesta couldn’t quite see.

“Aw babe, don’t be mad,” Cassian leaned over as best he could and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before she could turn away. Not that she didn’t want a kiss from him, but she was still upset at his antics. “You were so absorbed looking at that lady’s designs I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

Nesta’s anger melted a little at that. They had been walking around for a while when Nesta spotted a particular design she liked. She dragged Cassian over to a booth hosted by a woman whose arms were covered in colorful images and had her hair pulled back in a bright bandanna. She had a handful of binders on the table filled with designs and photos of healed artwork.

It was the minimalistic stack of books that had caught Nesta’s eye from across the aisle. She followed the single line as it swirled around creating the image. She must have been more lost in thought than she realized if Cassian deemed it best not to interrupt her.

“And,” He gave her a wide grin, “I hoped I could find Az and convince him to tattoo me for free.”

Rolling her eyes at Cass’ satisfied look and Az’s long-suffering one, she watched as people passed by the booth. Some looked through the design books, others paused to watch for a moment as Az worked. Turning back to face Cassian, she saw he was already looking at her.

“Fine. I’m still annoyed, though.” She leaned in closer, “What are you getting?”

Now Cassian’s face turned a little nervous. He still looked excited and happy and keen in the way he always looked when he watched her, but now he started to look a little worried, too.

“Before you freak out or get angry, let me explain.”

Nesta’s mind immediately went to worst-case scenarios. What could he be getting that he thought she would be angry? What would Azriel agree to ink that she should be upset about? Was it—

“Great way to start.” Azriel muttered from Cassian’s other side.

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes and turned back to Nesta just as she stood up and walked around to peer over Azriel’s shoulder.

Az was putting the finishing touches on but she could see exactly what the image was.

It was delicate ‘N’ on the inner edge of his wrist.

Nesta didn’t say anything—couldn’t say anything—she just stared at the design now permanently etched into her boyfriend’s skin.

Cassian cleared his throat and Azriel backed away to put his needles down and give them a moment of privacy. As much privacy as they could have in the small booth.

“It’s an N,” Obviously. “For you.” Obviously.

Nesta couldn’t drag her gaze away from the letter. All her anger and frustration faded away. She forgot how irritated she was with him, how upset she had been when she turned around and he was gone. She forgot the instant jolt of panic she felt when she thought she had lost him.

Nesta took in each line and curve of the tattoo and felt such an overwhelming feeling of love for this crazy, impulsive, wonderful man.

“You…” She finally looked up to see him watching her face carefully.

“What do you think?” He waited for her to say something, but after a moment of silence, he started rambling. “Is it too much? Do you like it? You don’t like it. It’s too much. If you don’t like it I can change it. I mean, I can see if Az can change it. I could get it covered up—”

“No!”

Nesta grabbed his worried face in her hands and kissed him fiercely. She tried to pour everything she was feeling into that kiss, and make him know that she did like it, she loved it. She loved him.

“No, don’t cover it up.” She pressed her forehead to his before pulling back and intertwining their fingers, using her grip to lift his arm to get a better view.

“So, you do like it?” A slow smile appeared on his face.

Nodding softly, she told him, “I do.” Nesta swallowed, another rush of emotion hitting her. “You really wanted to get something for me inked onto you? These things last forever you know.” She tried to make a joke, but she was still feeling overwhelmed.

She almost couldn’t believe that he wanted a piece of her, something to remind him of her constantly and forever. It was insane; totally impulsive and unbelievable, but the sweetest most loving gesture anyone had ever done for her.

Cassian used his fingers to tilt her chin up so he could look her in the eye. “Of course I wanted to. Every time I’ll see it, I’ll think of you.”

She kissed him again.

Breaking apart, Nesta slowly moved her finger around the letter, careful not to brush it and hurt him.

“Why here?”

He forced her to meet his stare as he said, “I wanted it over my pulse point because my heart beats for you.”

He kissed her this time and put everything he had into it. She brought one hand around behind his head, the other rested on his chest, and kissed him back with just as much passion.

“That’s so corny” she murmured against his lips

They broke apart, each breathing a bit heavily.

Cassian gave her a cheeky grin and winked.

“You love it. And didn’t you know, sweetheart,” he gave her one more peck on the lips, “we’re gonna last forever, too.”

*****

I know I’ve posted a lot of oneshots recently, but don’t worry, I’m absolutely still working on my longer fics. I’m just taking advantage of the inspiration as it hits me

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @bisexual-genderfluid-loki @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @surielandiareendgame @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part IX

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 14.3k

Warnings: timeskip, mutual pining, author doesn’t know shit about science subject matter, explicit sexual content, ass play, snowballing, tooth rotting fluff A/N: This is it, y’all. This last part was so much fun to write, I can’t even put it into words. The feedback on this has been incredible, so a big thank you for that, and before anyone asks, I have a handful of spinoff oneshots planned for this series. Enjoy~

- NINE YEARS -

“Hey, don’t forget about the meeting at three.”

 Mike glances up from his computer to find Henning leaning through his office doorway. It’s the first time Mike has looked away from the screen in at least an hour, and he blinks at his colleague several times in an attempt to get rid of the gritty feeling in his eyes.

 “Yeah, thanks,” he nods, rubbing a hand down his face. “Definitely would’ve forgotten about that one.”

 Henning leaves with one rap of his knuckles against the doorframe, and Mike checks his phone to see how much time he has before he has to make his way to the conference room. It’s twenty after two, so he spends a little while longer reading over the journal that had been sent to him, only tearing himself away when his alarm goes off at 2:55. 

 He waves at a few people as he passes, shows the reserved smile he’d mastered upon entering the corporate world, then walks into the large meeting space and sets his little notepad on the mahogany table as he sits down in a plush rolling chair. 

 This meeting has been planned for a few weeks now, a team of researchers contracted by the government to study Lake Sina and everything wrong with it. Its water quality is at an all time low, and it's up to Mike and his team to figure out a way to change that so it can be purified enough to distribute to the public. There are a few large cities close to the lake, all of lower income and all struggling with their water systems. If Sina can get clean enough, it would solve a huge crisis that most people don't even know is taking place. 

 Tomas, Henning, Lynne, and Nanaba are already in the room, and after a few minutes, another group of four walks in, all unfamiliar except…

 Mike’s eyebrows knit together as he stares. He can only see a profile from where he’s sitting, but it’s one he recognizes. The time he spent admiring it, mentally sketching every feature—of course he’d recognize it. Recognize you.

 There is a pounding in his chest that Mike hasn’t felt in years, and his palms are suddenly damp. The collar of his shirt is too tight around his throat, and he reaches up to undo the top two buttons so that he can fucking breathe, but Jesus Christ, he can’t believe it. It feels like a lifetime has passed since he last saw you. 

 He wonders if you’ll have the same reaction when you finally notice him, if you’ll gawk at him or grin or run away. He wouldn’t blame you if you tucked tail. That last conversation—if it could even be called that—is not one of Mike’s fondest memories, and he can’t imagine the toll it took on you, what you must have felt going into your final year of undergrad. 

 “Is there a remote for the projector?” You call out to the table, and your voice sounds exactly the fucking same. It makes Mike want to slam his head into the wood, but before he can, you zero in on him. 

 He watches as your eyes grow, jaw setting, shoulders rising with a deep breath, and oh, you’re panicking. You’re panicking just like he is.

 “Um,” you cough and shake your head, then lean over to speak to one of your people before basically jogging from the room.

 No one seems to think anything of it. Mike has to white-knuckle the arms of his chair to keep himself from getting up and following. There's no reason he should follow, though. The two of you haven’t spoken in almost a decade. He has nothing to share with you, no reason to talk to you on a non-professional level. You don’t know each other anymore, and that’s fine. It’ll be fine. 

 A mousy looking man starts passing out little binders to everyone at the table, then introduces himself as Moblit and the other two in the room as Hange and Abel. 

 "And, the other girl you saw is—"

 "I'm back, I'm here," you announce as you step into the room, closing the door behind you and introducing yourself with a wave. "Did we get the projector working?" 

 "Yes," Abel answers, passing you the remote that Nanaba had procured a few minutes ago. 

 Hange plugs a cable into a laptop and the white screen is lit up with the image of the well known lake, once beautiful, deep blue but now a murky brown. 

 Mike has been preparing for this project for a few months now, going to an off-site lab to look over the samples being sent in or dropped off. He knew there was a research team studying the lake, but… what are the odds that you would be part of that team? 

 He supposes your jobs could overlap just like your classes used to, but you had told him you wanted to go into natural hazards ("You're a natural hazard," he had replied with a snort). Of course, that had been a long time ago, but how had that dream morphed into hydrology? 

 Before the presentation starts, Mike's boss, Keith Shadis slips through the door and takes his seat at the end of the table. You're quick to grab one of the binders and walk it over to him, flashing a smile and never letting your gaze flit to Mike. 

 Hange does most of the talking, going over all of your findings while all of you "braved the wilderness". Moblit and Abel insert a few things here and there, and then Hange clicks to a slide with a graph on it and hands the remote to you. 

 "If you turn to page seventeen in the binders, you can probably get a better look, but this shows how much the level of pollution in Lake Sina has risen in the last year alone. We took samples over…"

 You keep talking, but Mike loses his focus, watching your hands move as you speak, the way you're rocking back on your heels, and how you look anywhere but at him. 

 Even though there's a tiny tremble in your voice, you sound passionate, and why wouldn't you be? Mike is passionate too. About the same god damn thing. 

 With a PhD in environmental science, his specialty is pollutants. It's something he's been interested in since grad school because the earth is beautiful but in an awful state, and Mike wants to fucking change that. He's written journals and articles, worked with leading experts, and it's what he's decided to dedicate himself to, so why is it that this life that he's built for himself is suddenly intermingling with yours? How—

 A hand comes to rest on Mike's and he startles at the touch, jerking his head upward to see Lynne with raised eyebrows. 

 "Mike, I get why you're lost in the pollution sauce, but if you click that pen one more time, I will throw you out of this high-rise."

 He stares at her for a second before chuckling and tossing his pen onto his blank notebook. He hadn't even realized he'd been doing it. It's a little embarrassing, actually. How many people noticed? Did you? 

 The presentation ends with Hange telling everyone that they're happy to be teaming up with the Corporation to work toward a solution and a plan to clean Lake Sina and possibly implement it into larger bodies of water.

 The planning stage of the project will more than likely last for a few months, meaning you'll all be regulars in the office which Mike isn't especially thrilled about, even if you will be sequestered in a little annex and spending a lot of your time in the lab. Mike will still have to see you and work with your team, god, probably have to talk to you. 

 The floor opens up for any questions, but Shadis is the only one who speaks, wanting clarification on some statistic that Mike is going to have to read over later. Once the boss is happy, he stands, then walks behind Mike's chair to slap him on the back and say the last thing Mike wants to hear.

 "This is Dr. Mike Zacharias. All of you should get familiar with him since he'll be heading this project."

 Mike sits up a little straighter and forces a tight-lipped smile that all of his colleagues know is fake. 

 "Happy to be working with you." 

 It isn't a lie. He's been excited about this project for a long time now. He just wasn't expecting such a massive wrench to get thrown right into the middle of it. 

 The four of you start packing up your materials. When Henning tries to hand you his binder, you tell him, "No, those are for you to keep. Just to get a real grasp on what we found out there."

 Mike knows he's staring, swiveling back and forth in his chair, twirling the pen he's picked up again, and he wonders if it would just be easier to rip the bandaid off. Exchange hellos, go over the bare minimum—how long he's been with the company, how long you've been researching. Just enough to appear casual, like you didn't break Mike's fucking heart in college. 

 And, then he thinks about just avoiding you altogether. There's always the chance your issues could come up in conversation, and it's so far in the past now, there's nothing either of you can say to make the other feel better. This can't be about closure. It's just a job. That's all. 

 "Wow, everyone really… cleared outta here."

 Mike's vision unfogs, and he glances around to find that yes, you're the only two left in the conference room. Fantastic. 

 You're wrapping a cord around your elbow then shoving it in a laptop bag, and he can tell you're moving as fast as you can, ready to get the fuck out of there. 

 "Uh, yeah," Mike agrees, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing his notebook to curl in his hands. "Everyone's just ready to get back to work, I guess."

 "Yeah. You can only hold someone's attention with a PowerPoint for so long."

 Mike's mouth is too dry, and it feels like he needs to cough, but he doesn't want to startle you, so he just quietly clears his throat in an entirely ineffective way and tells you, "Good PowerPoint, though."

 You snicker, not loud enough to hear your real laugh, and Mike doesn't know if he's grateful for that or not. 

 "Thanks. Mobs made it."

 Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you finally look up at Mike—really look at him for the first time—and he sees your expression go soft, mouth twitching like you’re caught between smiling and frowning, and Mike is taken back to the first night he met you when he wanted you to shotgun that disgusting beer. 

 You blink at him, open and close your mouth, and Mike is waiting with baited breath for you to say something else, but all you do is hold your hand out for him to take the projector remote from you. 

 "Here."

 He grabs it with two fingers, careful not to brush your hand. Fuck, he wishes his heart would stop beating so hard, it's incredibly uncomfortable. 

 "I feel like I should say something," you murmur, "But I have no idea what, so I'm just gonna tell you I look forward to working with you, Dr. Zacharias."

 He grins. Widely. He doesn't mean to, but he does. It's been so damn long since anyone has said his last name like that. 

 "Do you, though?" He asks. 

 "Do I what?"

 "Look forward to working here."

 "Oh, uh…" You bite your lip, start rocking on your feet again, then shrug. "I guess? I mean… Big project."

 "Very big."

 "It's important to me. I can't say that I was expecting—"

 "Me?" Mike offers with a tilt of his head. 

 He's standing too close. It feels like he is, anyway, so he moves back to lean against the conference table. 

 "Yeah, pretty much," you laugh. "It's been a while."

 Mike wonders if you remember that night as well as he does. No matter how much he's tried to forget it, that image of you with fat years rolling down your face just will not leave him. Do you remember how it felt? Can you remember everything he said to you? 

 Before Mike can respond, you wave a hand. "Anyway, I need to go help set up our little area, so…"

 "Yeah, for sure. I'll be around."

 After powering through the last hour of his day, Mike bolts from the building. He needs to get home. He needs to get a drink in his hand. He needs to unwind and not think of you. 

 He needs to fucking call Erwin. 

 "Hey, bro, what's up?" 

 "Dude," is all Mike says at first. 

 "What?" 

 "You will never fucking guess who's on the team we’re working with on the Sina water project."

 Erwin hums in a sing-song sort of way, then chuckles. "Funny, I got a similar call about an hour ago."

 "You guys still talk?" Mike asks a little too loudly. 

 "Yeah, man. Not every day or anything, but—"

 Mike rolls his eyes. "You're unbelievable." He isn't mad, and Erwin knows this. He's just a little surprised. His friend hasn’t as much as uttered your name in the last ten years. 

 "Yeah, whatever. How'd it go from your perspective?" 

 "It—Wait, what did she say?" 

 "Oh, no no no," Erwin laughs. Mike here's a distant, "Hold that, please!" and figures he's making his way to the elevator to leave work as well. "I am not getting caught up in your bullshit again."

 Pouting, Mike finally turns on his car and pulls out of the parking lot. "Fine. It went… Well? I think? I mean, super awkward, but that isn't surprising."

 "No name-calling or confessions of undying love?" 

 "No, I'm not twenty-two anymore."

 "Could have fooled me," Erwin snorts. 

 "Fuck off. It was a good presentation, but she was nervous, and I couldn't tell if it was from having to speak in front of people or if it was 'cause I was there, and then we talked afterward—nothing important or anything, just, like, an acknowledgement. You know, you're here, I'm here, we have to find a way to co-exist, except neither of us actually said that," Mike has to take a deep breath. He's rambling, he knows, and Erwin is just listening, probably storing it all away to make fun of him about it later. "It was okay. It could've been worse."

 "Could have been better too."

 "What? How—"

 "Could have bent her over the desk and—"

 "Dude!"

 Erwin breaks into that deep laugh Mike is so used to, tells him, "I'm just saying! I know she's still cute. We have each other on Facebook."

 He's right. Too right. You are absolutely still cute, all dressed up in business casual attire, so different from the leggings and hoodies you used to wear. Your face has matured slightly—naturally—and your hair is different but still suits you. Mike has no idea how he's supposed to work with you for the next few months. 

 "I can't deal with you," Mike grumbles. "Why did I even call you?" 

 "Probably because I'm the only one who has an inkling about what you're going through right now," Erwin replies. "Aside from her anyway."

 "Yeah, yeah."

 They chat for a little while longer until Erwin gets to the bar he's apparently meeting some coworkers at, and Mike spends the rest of his drive listening to music too loud as he tries and fails to clear his mind of you. 

 *

 You're pacing. You have been for the last hour. The food you made for yourself went cold some time ago, but you're too busy whining into your phone to notice. 

 "Just—like—what the fuck am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to work with him like this? He's overseeing the whole fucking project! I can't just avoid him!" 

 "Okay, first thing's first," Hitch stops you. "I need you to take a deep breath for me."

 "Hitch—"

 "Breathe!"

 You inhale through your nose then blow out through your mouth, but that's obviously not good enough for Hitch because she demands, "And, again."

 "What are you, my therapist?" 

 "I mean, I usually act like one, so… anyway, while you're calming the fuck down, I'm gonna call for backup. Hold please."

 Dropping yourself onto the hotel couch, you try to relax even though you know it'll be impossible because—

 "You're working with Mike?" Rhi's shrill voice meets your ear, and you have to pull the phone away. 

 "Rhi, you're supposed to help me calm her down, not add to her panic," Hitch reminds her. 

 "Yeah, no, that's not gonna happen," Rhi tells her, and you laugh to yourself. 

 "Agreed."

 "Okay, so tell me what happened. Oh my god, did you cry? Did he cry? What'd Erwin say when you told him? You told him, right?" 

 You've gotten used to Rhi's rapid fire inquiries a long time ago, so you have no problem answering, "We walked in for the big Sina presentation today, and he was just there, and I was freaking out, so Hange had to do most of the work but still made me go over my findings 'cause I understand them better than they do, but anyway. I don't think he was paying attention at fucking all which is cool 'cause I wouldn't have been either, and then we talked for a second afterward, but there were no tears. There was almost vomit 'cause I felt like I needed to throw up, but I kept it together. I think."

 "Okay, and Erwin? What'd he say?" 

 You snicker to yourself. "He made fun of me for a little while and then he told me to talk to Mike once I calmed down just to catch up and then to—this is verbatim, by the way—to possibly have dirty sex in Mike's office."

 Both of your friends howl, Hitch being the first to gather herself enough to giggle, "He fucking would say that, oh my god, I hate him."

 "Same," Rhi drawls. "Okay, but is there the possibility of dirty office sex?"

 "Wha—That's what you're taking away from all that?" You splutter. 

 "Uh, yeah."

 "I'm kinda curious too," Hitch pipes up. 

 You wave your free hand around in confusion and tell them, "I—we—no! We don't even know each other anymore. We said, like, four words to each other today, and it was fucking weird, so no. Pervs."

 "Do you want to, though? Has he aged well?" Hitch asks in a low, sultry voice. 

 You click your tongue and pause, not wanting the first thought that pops into your head to be what comes out of your mouth because yes, holy shit, yes, Mike looks so fucking good. It was one of many reasons you were so tongue-tied in front of him. 

 He's still impossibly tall and broad, but in slacks and a button up. The beard he’s always had is short and rugged and a tad darker than the hair on top of his head that he's let grow out long enough to tie in a bun, and it fits him too well. You thought you were gonna start drooling on his fancy shoes. 

 "He's alright," you play. They see right through you, falling into another long fit of laughter until you admit, "Okay, okay, he's still stupid hot, alright?" 

 "God bless. I'm so happy to hear that. I'm so happy for you."

 "Why would you—"

 "Just promise you'll invite us to the wedding."

 "I think you guys are getting a little ahead of yourselves."

 "Oh my god, we have to call Marie."

 "And, Maddie."

 You shake your head as the other two start going back and forth, talking about you like you're not even there, bringing up college memories, old parties you'd all gone to. 

 "Hey, remember when you hated me?" Rhi questions, and both of you snort. 

 "And, you hated me right back. Stole your man or whatever."

 Hitch mutters a quiet, "Ew, fuck that guy."

 And, Rhi picks up, "Yeah, fuck that all-American, record-breaking pitcher."

 The three of you talk well into the evening, eventually switching to Zoom so that you can all see each other and add Maddie and Marie into the call. You and Hitch break open bottles of wine, but Rhi and Maddie don't drink, "Solidarity with this pregnant bitch," Maddie says, and Marie lifts her glass of water to cheers via internet. 

 Sophomore and junior year of college, you never would have expected to get close to anyone other than Hitch, but through a few shared classes and petty curiosity, all of you ended up seeking solace in one another and came out on the other side as best friends. Hitch was even Maid of Honor in Marie and Nile's wedding. Against all odds, everything turned out pretty wholesome. 

 "I genuinely hope it works out," Hitch says now, words long, lazy, and starting to slur together "Like, even if it's just you and Mike making up and being, like, cool with each other again."

 "Hitch, you're drunk, please go to bed."

 "I am drunk. But, I still mean what I said. I miss when you guys were just best friends."

 "Why?" You question with a head shake. 

 Hitch sighs, "'Cause you were so happy."

 "No, I—"

 "I mean, you were still all… weird and guarded, but that dude made you laugh and smile so much."

 "I daresay I even saw you giddy on a couple of occasions," Marie hums. 

 "Whatever. I just want it to be… not awkward."

 "Then, talk."

 "Mm, pass."

 *

 A light knock on the wall of the impressively large cubicle gets your whole team's attention, all of you glancing up to find Mike standing in the little entryway, hands in his pockets.

 "Hey, just checkin' in. Have you all gotten settled?" 

 "Yes!" Hange is up on their feet. "Great accommodations, and that lab you guys use?" They moan, and you can tell Mike is trying not to laugh because his mouth is twisting to one side like it always does when he tries to appear unaffected by something. However, you know well that it is very hard to remain unaffected by Hange Zoe. 

 "Yeah, we haven't had a lab that shiny in a long time," Moblit chuckles. 

 "Don't you work in government buildings?" Mike frowns. 

 "You ever seen the inside of a post office?" You question, immediately regretting it when those light green eyes land on you. 

 "Uh, yeah?" 

 Smirking through the butterflies, you tell him, "Those are government buildings too."

 "Don't mind her. She's just being a smartass," Abel says.

 Mike is really fighting that smile now. Even pinched to one side, you can see the way his lips are trying to curve upward, and you have to bite yours and look at the floor before you start acting like a god damn school girl. 

 It's nearing the end of the first week at your new location. It hasn't been terrible, and some of the strangeness is beginning to wear off, but it's still jarring to see Mike walk around or hear his voice carrying through his office door. 

 Neither of you have gone out of your way to talk to one another. Anything project related, Hange handles for the most part, and if anything is delegated to you, you try to pass it off to Abel because you're just not ready to be alone in a room with Mike. Your brain and your heart can't take it yet. 

 You can't deny that you're curious, though. You wonder what his life is like now, what his job is like outside of what you've seen (which, admittedly, is not much), what he does in his free time now, who he spends his time with. You couldn't help but notice (you made a point of looking) that there isn't any type of ring on his finger which is pretty fucking surprising since, well, Mike has always been a catch. How has someone not come around and swiped him off the market? Or, does he just not wear a wedding band at work? Or, does he just have a girlfriend and is waiting to take the next step? So many questions you have no business asking.

 Mike hums, rubs at something probably nonexistent on the carpet with the toe of his shoe, and mumbles a little, "Nothin’ I haven't dealt with before," that makes everyone look at him curiously. "With co-workers, you know. Lotta sass in the office."

 You stifle a laugh and stand up. There are a lot of sassy things you could say, but you figure none of them are actually appropriate, especially since Mike is technically your boss now—why is that so hot?—so you just slip out of the cubicle, doing your best to not brush up against Mike. He apparently doesn't care, though, because while he moves to the side, he does the thing that all men do, placing a hand on the small of your back as if to guide you past him, and it makes you burn. 

 "'scuse me," you squeak, relieved to be able to run to the restroom where you can sit in a stall and scream to Hitch through texts. 

 You are dying—mostly because you don't know what you want. Do you want to be friends? Do you want to seduce him? Do you want another nine years away from him? You have no idea. 

 You were sad for a long time after that holiday break. You trudged through your spring courses, took more classes in the Summer, then started all over. Hitch had to physically drag you out of your tiny apartment a few times but never to any parties, thank god. Just to lunch or the library, and eventually, Rhi, Marie, and Maddie came into the picture. Further into the picture, anyway. 

 While they got you laughing again, though, that ache didn't ever fade. Mike's words replayed in your head in a constant loop, day and night for months. I can’t do this anymore. Start fresh. Shouldn’t be hard for you. You were mad at yourself for a long time, for ruining everything and hurting him. If you could have gone back to the start of it all and done things differently, you would have, but you just had to sit with all your mistakes instead. 

 Then, your anger shifted toward him. Because you weren't the only one who messed up. You may have been the first one to, but he did some shitty things too. He's the one who didn't care even after finding out it was Zeke who blocked his number. He's the one who refused to believe that you and Erwin weren't actually a couple. He's the one who brought Rhi to the ranch house with the specific intention of hurting your feelings (and to wet his dick). 

 And, he's the one who didn't want to work things out. 

 You understand his frustration. You broke his heart, after all. But then, he turned around and broke yours too. 

 It was nine years ago, and you've moved on. You've dated people since then. You've fallen in and out of love. Mike wasn't even on your radar until Monday, but now… Now, there's no forgetting him. Old wounds get jabbed every time he peeks around the corner, any time you hear him laugh or see him smile, and when he actually looks at you, fuck, it's like someone is ripping stitches out of your skin.

 It is not a productive work environment. 

 Your team hasn't noticed much other than Moblit asking what has you so tense these days, but no one has made any connections, and you'd like to keep it that way. Hange would have a fucking field day if they found out. 

 There are many meetings to toss around ideas, plans and blueprints that get scrapped. You stumble through presentations, trying not to look directly at anyone as your cheeks heat up and your hands shake. 

 "You've never been nervous about stuff like this," Abel tells you in the conference room one day as everyone else files out. "What's up with you?" 

 "Nothing," you shake your head. "Don't worry about it."

 "Nothing my ass," he grumbles, walking out without you. 

 "You really should try to relax," Mike tells you from where he's still sitting at the table. "No idea why you're so nervous."

 Everyone else is gone which means you're free to squint at him, scathing retort on the tip of your tongue, but when you see that he's smirking at you, the words dry up. 

 "Don't play dumb, Zacharias."

 "I'm not playing anything," he tells you. "But, I do need to know how long we're gonna keep up this I don't know you-you don't know me thing."

 "You literally just said—..." Taking a deep breath, you look over your shoulder to, one, form a coherent sentence in your brain, and two, make sure no one is close enough to hear it when you say, "What would you prefer we do? Not like we can just pick up where we left off. Unless, you know, you wanna go back to being incredibly fucking pissed at me for months on end."

 "Man, you really are tense about this," Mike chuckles, and you're torn between slapping him and jumping his bones, so you do neither. Fuck, why'd he have to wear the purple tie today? It looks so good with his complexion and complements his eyes. A few strands of hair have come loose from the bun at the back of his head, and he shakes them out of his face like he used to shake his shaggy bangs, and all you can do is stare and squirm and tell him, "I have to go."

 "Go where?" He asks, standing from his chair. It feels like he towers over you even from across the table. 

 You hold your hands out and gesticulate a little frantically, "I don't know—work? Maybe?"

 He's extremely amused, even laughs as you make your way out the door, then calls, "Whenever you're ready to talk, just let me know! You know where my office is."

 "I don't wanna talk!"

 You really don't. But, you also really do. 

 *

 Mike starts having fun with his new department (you specifically) around the third week. 

 He's never seen you like this before, having to mentally prepare yourself before you walk into any room, like you have to be ready for him. You nibble on your lip and rock on your heels. Your hands shake in meetings when you have to point to pictures or graphs. 

 It’s just so unlike you. He got so used to the surly, uncaring girl in college, never happy to see Mike until you gave him a fair chance (and decided you enjoyed his cock). He expects everything to come out of your mouth to be sarcastic or suggestive, and when it's not, it takes him off guard.  

 Mike is nervous around you too. He can easily admit that. But, his neverending panic really just manifests in the form of nausea and heart palpitations which he thinks is better than trembling and stuttering, but it's still mildly distracting. 

 Every once in a while, he catches a glimpse of that old side of you, though, a mumbled smartass remark or an unimpressed expression, and he has to make a conscious effort to not grin like an idiot because he's still trying to decipher his actual feelings. 

 Is he supposed to act like nothing ever happened, or should he hold a grudge? What seems more natural? What feels more natural? 

 Mike knows the answer to that last question, but he hasn't fully accepted it. 

 "It's kinda cute, actually. Like, I walk into the room and she gets this little doe-eyed expression. Looks like she's about to run away."

 "You're kind of a sadist, you know that?" Erwin says. 

 "I mean, is it so wrong to get a little satisfaction outta this?" 

 "I think so, yeah. You're driving her crazy, dude."

 Mike smacks his lips and rolls his eyes. "Man, how would you know—"

 "'Cause she told me!" Erwin basically shouts like it's obvious. "The words came out of her mouth. Mike is driving me crazy. Just like that."

 Pouting, Mike takes another sip of his beer and lets his eyes travel to the bottom of the TV screen to check the score of the game he isn't watching. 

 "Well, it's not like I can really do anything about it. She'll only be here for a few months."

 "Do you happen to know how long it takes for a stomach ulcer to form?" Erwin asks. 

 Mike frowns. "Uh, no?" 

 "Well, neither do I, but I'm pretty sure it's not very long."

 Both of them laugh. Mike mutters something about Erwin being fucking stupid, and then Erwin sighs and speaks, "I am begging you, dude. Please just get a fucking drink with her or something."

 "We don't mix well with alcohol," Mike snarks. 

 "What's the worst that could happen—you end up in bed again?"

 "Well—"

 "Honestly, both of you could probably benefit from a good fuck, but what do I know? I'm just the guy both of you call for this shit."

 "Alright, I get it. I'll… see if she's up for something," Mike mumbles. 

 "I mean, I wouldn't open with sex, maybe start off with lunch or…"

 "I'm hanging up now."

 Mike doesn't actually know how to ask you, though. You're so fucking skittish around him, and you're obviously worried about people finding out you have a history, so he's gonna have to be strategic about it, maybe plant the seed a few days before or—

 "Hey, listen…" You appear in Mike's office doorway, long cardigan falling to your knees and swishing behind you even after you've stopped moving. "I know it's almost five, but I'm, like, right in the middle of mapping out a new plan, and I don't wanna lose steam, so is it cool if I stay late?" 

 "Yeah, I don't care," Mike answers, tacking on, "S'long as you're okay with being here late with me."

 "Oh, th-that's—" you splutter for a little while, and Mike raises his eyebrows. "That's n-not necessary. You don't have to, like, supervise me or anything."

 "I'm not supervising you," Mike snorts. "I'm trying to finish my piece for a journal."

 "Ah, right, that's… yes." You shoot off a half-hearted finger gun, and Mike wants to hop his desk to get to you. There you are. There are your dumb fucking mannerisms, please, just act like yourself, for the love of god. 

 "Okay, well if you need me, uh, I will probably be on the floor in the annex, so…"

 "We do have chairs, ya' know," Mike smirks. 

 "Yeah, but it's easier to just spread everything out so I can see it."

 "Want a corkboard? You can make it look like you're doing a murder investigation."

 "Hmm, might make it look more official," you muse, making a face of contemplation. 

 Before you can actually say yes, Mike pipes up again. "I don't actually have a corkboard. It was a joke."

 "Yeah, I know," you snicker. "Wouldn't be big enough anyway."

 Too many responses flood Mike's brain at once, causing him to bite his tongue because every last one of them is gross, but you must be able to read it on his face because you point and tell him, "Stop."

 "I didn't say anything!" He laughs. 

 "You don't have to. I know."

 Mike rolls his eyes, "Okay," and looks back to his computer, hoping the screen is high enough to hide his grin as you turn and walk away. 

 The next hour is spent editing the same paragraph over and over with no real motivation because everyone has vacated the floor except for you and Mike, and this could be a good time to talk to you, but he also doesn't want to disrupt your work. Just because he can't focus doesn't mean you can't. You'd only get upset if he distracted you from your work anyway—it's happened before—redirecting your attention from a textbook or study guide to… other things. 

 He goes down a rabbit hole, reminiscing on those occasions, then tweaking them just a little to fit into the current setting, and it's the absolute last thing Mike should be thinking about, but it's Friday, and you're slightly more casual in your flowy cardigan and tight jeans, and all he wants is to get one teeny tiny look at your ass in them because he knows your it’s perfect. He's seen it in leggings and cheeky little boy shorts and lacy thongs, and there is absolutely no way he can go out to talk to you now. 

 Also, he really needs to write at least one paragraph before leaving tonight. It's all about water and waste and pollutants which is the shit Mike knows like the back of his hand. He'd just rather have said hands on something else. 

 "Yeah, this isn't gonna happen," he mutters to himself, taking his hair down to scratch at his scalp. He's better off just going home. 

 Mike packs a few things up before stepping out of his office, closing and locking the door behind him. Half the lights are off, but the portion over the annex is shining brightly. Mike stares in that direction as he debates telling you he's leaving or bolting without saying anything. 

 It's the thought of you walking out to your car alone that makes his mind up, and Mike saunters to the annex and finds you on hands knees surrounded by several sketches, crumpled notes, and the set of blueprints that Mike is pretty sure got thrown in the recycling on Tuesday. 

 "Where'd you even find those?" 

 You don't look up when you answer, "Recycling comes every Monday."

 "So, you went… dumpster diving?" 

 Lifting your head, you squint up at Mike, tracking him as he squats on the other side of your organized chaos. 

 "Is it dumpster diving if it's all paper?" 

 Mike shrugs. "Dunno. How's it comin'?"

 "I'm comi—It!" You correct a little too loudly. "It's coming! It's coming along just fine."

 "Yeah?" Mike chuckles. "Cute Freudian slip there."

 "It was not—" You grit your teeth, fingers curling on the papers they're resting on, then question, "Did you need something?"

 "Just came by to say I was leaving," Mike tells you. Something catches his eye, though, some of your notes scribbled just big enough for him to read a few of the words from where he is, and he grabs the sheet to look it over more carefully. 

 Irrigation plans, specialized pumps, introducing new life into the lake, specifically filter fish…

 "I was just vomiting ideas out on paper, it's nothing important."

 Mike hums and reads further. Some of it is familiar because Mike has considered some of these himself, but while your engineering thoughts are a little vague, the ideas that lean more toward the biological side of things are pretty interesting, even if they're just sloppy bullet points and arrows. 

 "You wanna vomit on a person instead?" He asks, chuckling at the look you give him. 

 "Ew."

 "Just spitball. Throw it at me."

 "Oh, I'm gonna throw somethin' at you all right."

 Mike slips his bag from his shoulder and sets it down before sitting on the ground, picking up the papers closest to him. 

 "Tell me about the xylem tissue method," he prompts. 

 You don't speak right away, just chew on your lip while staring at the sketches on the ground, but then you nod and sit back on your heels. 

 "So, we know that white pine trees are a natural means of filtering, but there aren't any around here. I know it's more of a long-term plan, but we can't just go with a temporary fix, so I was thinking—"

 Mike listens. To everything. Everything you can think of. He watches too. You rub your hands over your jeans and flick hair from your eyes. You change positions, sitting on one foot while resting your chin on your knee as you think out loud, then move to sit cross-legged only to get up to pace the length of the cubicle, barefoot since your heels were kicked off long ago. 

 He asks questions or makes suggestions here and there, and soon it isn't just you who's brainstorming.

 It's easy. It's what Mike knows, and it's obviously what you know too, and a couple of hours pass before either of you realize it. 

 "Shit, it's almost ten," you state, looking at your phone. "Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you here so late."

 "It's fine. Wouldn't have stayed if I didn't want to."

 Mike stretches as he stands, twisting to crack his back and rolling his neck. You gather up all the papers, straightening them into a neat pile then putting them in a drawer at the bottom of your desk. 

 You walk out together, still chatting in the elevator and out to the parking lot, and Mike feels good. He feels like… He feels like he did in college. 

 "Please tell me that is not your car," you say, eyeing the boxy, white Mercedes that is, in fact, Mike's. 

 "What of it?" 

 "These fucking Jeeps are so ugly, I cannot believe—"

 "Uh, it's not a Jeep. It's a g-wagon, thank you."

 You roll your eyes. "I liked your Wrangler better."

 "I bet you fuckin' did," he mumbles, too lost in the memory of you riding him in said Wrangler to think about how you might take the comment. 

 "It was easier on the eyes," you explain. 

 "It was a frat boy car."

 "You were a frat boy!" 

 "And, now I'm a professional."

 "Are you, though?" You tease, expression skeptical save for your tiny smirk. 

 "Most of the time."

 The only other vehicle in the lot is a Land Rover, considerably larger than the little hatchback you used to drive but very fitting for someone in your line of work. Mike thinks about mentioning that it's basically the same as his Mercedes, just not as expensive and with rounder edges, but he knows you'll just get indignant and defensive. 

 He walks you over to your car, and you don't question it, just open the passenger side and throw your bag inside. 

 This is your chance, Mike realizes. Just ask. Ask her to go somewhere else and talk about something other than work.

 "Hey, uh, do you wanna grab a drink or something?" He tries, heartbeat picking up once again. His eyes are a little too wide as you regard him carefully, studying him like one of your samples.

 Then, you shake your head. 

 "No, Mike. I don't wanna grab a drink." His stomach opens up, the heat that comes with embarrassment creeping up his neck. 

 "Oh, sorry, I just—"

 "But, there's a breakfast place close to the extended stay they put us up in. I've been wanting to check it out."

 And, like that, his hope is restored. Hope for what, Mike doesn't know, but it's certainly there, blooming in his chest like unkempt wildflowers. 

 "Yeah?" 

 You nod. "Yeah. I'm still not really a morning person, but d'you wanna meet there at, like, ten or so?" 

 "Tomorrow?" 

 "I mean, if that works for you."

 "Yeah!" Mike clears his throat, lowers his voice so that he sounds a little less excited. "I'm usually up and moving by eight."

 "God, why do you hate yourself?" You cringe. 

 "I've always been an early riser."

 "Not from what I remember."

 Mike leans against your rover, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, maybe not when I was kept up into the early morning hours, but usually I was up before everyone else."

 You post up across from him, one hand on your hip, and Mike realizes this is gonna go on for some time. 

 "Kept up? Like you didn't wanna be?"

 He's fine with that. He'll stand out here talking with you until the sun comes up if you'll let him. And, maybe after that too. 

 *

 Breakfast is good. Breakfast is safe. Breakfast is the start of the day and free of alcohol. There is nothing suggestive about breakfast. 

 Except breakfast has become a habit. For the last three Saturdays you’ve sat at the little cafe next to your hotel talking with Mike for at least an hour. You’re kind of getting to know him again, but most of the conversation consists of stupid jokes or blatant deflections. 

 His parents are still doing well, both in their sixties now, but Scout, unfortunately passed away a few years ago. Hearing it makes your eyes burn, and watching Mike’s face fall actually makes you wipe at your own rapidly forming tears. 

 He still keeps in touch with several of his frat brothers—Erwin (obviously), Nile, Gelgar, and some of the younger kids, Jean, Marco, and Connie.

 “Yeah, I’m actually pretty close to Marie now,” you tell him. “And, Maddie, and Rhi.”

 “Rhi?” He looks incredibly surprised.

 “Yeah,” you laugh. “Bonded over the woes of college boys.”

 “Didn’t see that coming.”

 “Neither did I, honestly.”

 Working with him is easier now. The ice has been broken. The boundaries have been set even if they are unspoken. You still do your best not to touch him at all, never stand too close or brush against him in any way, but you’ve loosened up a lot, and your team seems to appreciate it. Unfortunately, they also start to notice the way you light up a little too much whenever you’re around Mike, and naturally, Hange just had to comment on it a few days ago. 

 “You have a crush on the bossman or somethin’?”

 “What? No. We just work well together, I guess.”

 You do not tell Mike about this exchange, in fear of him prying. Well, do you have a crush on the bossman? You’re not ready for that, probably never will be. 

 There are a few breakthroughs in the Sina project. The research team gets extra funding to run more trials, and you start to stay late more often, sometimes in the tower with everyone else and sometimes in the lab. Things are progressing nicely. 

 Eventually, breakfast turns to lunch, lunch turns to dinner, and then you find yourself in Mike’s apartment, sitting at his kitchen table while he cooks.

 “So, we talk every once in a while now, but it’s usually really awkward. Like, I still don’t ever know what to say to him.”

 “Do you find it weird that he reached out in the first place?”

 “Kind of? When I was younger, I always hoped he would, but now that he has, I almost wish he hadn’t. Does that make sense?”

 Mike shrugs as he pours noodles into a strainer over the sink. “I mean, he’s your dad, so yeah, it makes sense. What he did was super shitty, but I figure it’s hard to forget the good times and just abandon all hope.”

 “Yeah. On the bright side, he sends my brother money for commissary, like, every week, so that’s nice.”

 It took a little while, but you’ve let yourself open up to Mike much easier this time around. Whether it’s because you already know you can trust him or because you’ve gotten the closure you needed for so long, you’re not sure. You just know it’s been easy. 

 Unfortunately, with vulnerability comes feelings, and you are having a lot of those. Too many. You’re glad that it’s not debilitating dread and nervousness now, but the overwhelming affection isn’t any less distracting.

 Watching Mike move around his kitchen, though—clad in a t-shirt, faded jeans, and the dish towel thrown over his shoulder, you are painfully reminded of why you got so attached all those years ago. 

 It isn’t fair. You really didn’t want to fall back into this hole. You knew it was a possibility as soon as you saw him at that first meeting, but you were trying to put it off until you had to leave. 

 Because that’s the plan. You come in. You complete the project, get them started on a long-term plan for the lake, then head back to your home facility and wait for another job to be assigned. You can’t just stay here, even if the idea gets a little more tempting every day. 

 You’re just friends, though, just spending time together because it’s familiar. It’s nice being back on the same page, just letting the past stay there.

 “So, it’s been about two months,” Mike starts, and something about his tone makes your stomach drop. “I feel like that’s an appropriate amount of time to wait before finally addressing the elephant in the room.”

 So much for letting the past stay there. 

 Groaning, you rub your hands down your face. “Do we really have to?” Of course he would want to talk about it now that you’re comfortable.

 “I really think we do.”

 “Mike, that was so long ago. I was a dumb fucking kid. What do you need to know other than that?”

 He braces himself on his counter, face serious. “Nothin’ really. I just want you to know that I was a dumb kid too.”

 “Yeah, and we’ve grown since then and gotten over it, right?”

 He lets out a long sigh. “I had gotten over it, but working with you every day has kinda... brought some things back to the surface.”

 Staring at him, you swallow and try to stay calm. You know where he’s coming from, and it’s a little comforting to know that he’s been experiencing at least some of the emotions that you have been, but you don’t know whether or not it’s a good thing. 

 “I get it. I’ve been struggling too, but there’s nothing we can really do about it.”

 You’ve thought about just taking the plunge and sleeping with him again. It would be nice—really fucking nice—but it would only make things worse. 

 “I guess. It’s been cool to hang out again, but…” Mike chews on his lip for a moment before finishing, “We’ve never been good at just hanging out.” 

 The reminder makes your skin prickle with heat, and you shift in your chair, reeling in your thoughts before they run wild. 

 “Yeah. If it would be easier to just not hang out, I’d understand.”

 He turns back to the stove to stir something and turn on the vent then twists back around. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

 “Then, what are you saying?”

 Mike makes a little disgruntled noise, hanging his head like he’s getting frustrated. “I’m saying some days are hard. I tried to keep some distance, but that lasted for about a week, and now you’re here, and even though you’ve changed some, you’re still you, and I’m still me, and… Some days are just hard.”

 Some minutes are hard, you think to yourself. You can be going about your day like someone who isn’t completely fucking smitten, and then you see Mike, and he nods or grins and suddenly all you want is to be alone with him and trace over his lips with yours, feel his hands on you, run your fingers through his long hair. 

 “If I could take those feelings away from you, I would,” you tell him, and it’s apparently the wrong thing to say because he frowns.

 “Do you not feel the same way then?”

 Your reply is almost instantaneous. “Christ, Mike, of course I feel the same! I was in love with you! I didn’t know how to show it back then, but that’s what it was, so yeah, I feel it too, but there’s no point in—in analyzing it or turning it into something—”

 “You were in love?”

 “Dude. Yes. It took me a while to realize it—like, way too long—but yeah. Definitely love. Junior and senior year wouldn’t have sucked so much if it was just lust or infatuation or something.”

 “Sorry.”

 “Don’t be,” you wave him off. “I fucked up. You had every right to be pissed.”

 “I could’ve handled it better,” he mutters.

 You shake your head. “Dumb kids, remember?”

 Mike looks genuinely upset, and you don’t know what to say anymore, so you get up from the kitchen table and walk over to him. You have to physically urge him to turn and face you, but once he does, you wrap your arms around his torso and sigh. He immediately locks his wrists behind your back, resting his chin on your head, and it feels familiar and right and a little bit like home. You can smell the fabric softener that clings to his shirt and the fresh scent of his deodorant, different from what he used to wear, but that doesn’t make it bad.

 “Can we wait for a while longer before we decide to act like dumb kids again?” You ask.

 Mike chuckles above you. “You say that like you’re positive we will.”

 You’re just being realistic, and you tell him as much. The chances of you leaving the city without having sex at least once are slim to none. You figure the two of you will break and indulge in one of those ‘just for old time’s sake’ fucks, but if Mike keeps talking to you like this, admitting feelings and what not, you’re gonna lose it much faster than you’d originally planned. 

 “Yeah.” You feel him nod. “Yeah, we can wait.”

 When he kisses the top of your head, you almost give up then and there. 

 *

 This fucking sucks. Everything sucks. Mike was never one of those people who looked back on college as his glory days, never really had the desire to go back to it, but now he feels like he’s reliving them because he’s back to being twenty-one and obsessed with a girl—being obsessed with you. 

 It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t know that you felt it too, but you admitted it, so now the only thing that’s stopping the two of you from exploring that avenue is, what, fear? Again?

 He gets it. He does. You don’t want to fall into something serious only to leave, but it’s possible to navigate relationships like that. Long distance-works. There’s technology for that like phones and video chats and sex toys. Then, there’s always the option of just relocating. It would be drastic, but Mike isn’t against the idea. Arrangements would have to be made, but he could swing it. It’s a little crazy so early on, but...

 He’s not gonna push it, not in a blatant way, but he’s gonna try his damndest to make it harder for you to go. He grows bold enough to start touching you more. A hand on the small of your back as you leave a room together, an arm around your shoulders when you watch TV over dinner, tucking hair behind your ear (“God, that used to be Erwin’s, like, go-to move.”). It’s fucked up because he knows your colleagues are asking about it, that he’s subjecting you to their interrogations, but he can’t help himself. He can’t stop.

 It definitely has an effect on you. You get flustered every time, can’t look at Mike for a while, and he hopes it’s because you’re thinking about other ways he could touch you—has touched you—f you’d just give him the chance.

 He thinks he has the patience to keep it up, wind you up more and more every day until you spin out of control and into his bed. You’re still spending time with him outside of work, still sharing pieces of yourself, and you’re not stopping him from putting his hands on you. so it’s only a matter of time.

 It comes to a head in his apartment after dinner. It’s so simple, something Mike didn’t even do on purpose, but as you’re washing your hands, he comes up behind you and reaches past you for a paper towel. He puts a hand on your hip without thinking, and his chest presses against your back, and then you’re exhaling in one quick huff and squirming to turn around.

 “Okay.”

 “Okay, what?” Mike asks, confused as he takes a step back. 

 “Okay, I’m ready to act like a dumb kid.”

 You don’t even dry your hands, just curl your fingers into his shirt and gaze up at him with dilated pupils, and Mike is elated.

 “Oh, thank god, fuck, thank god.”

 He leans down, and you stand on your tiptoes, and when you meet in the middle and he feels your lips on his for the first time in almost a decade, he groans. 

 You pull him closer, tilt your head further back to give him better access, and Mike cradles it in his hands. He tries not to breathe too heavily, pant like a fucking dog, but he’s been waiting for this since he saw you again. Maybe before that. He thinks on some level he’s been waiting for this since he left you alone in the ranch house, a little voice nagging at him to go back, to fix things, and he just never did. 

 “This is stupid, this is so stupid,” you murmur against him. “Only gonna make things harder.”

 “Just stop thinking about it,” Mike replies, nipping at your bottom lip. He doesn’t want you to think about it because he doesn’t want to think about it otherwise he’ll blurt out everything he’s been stewing on for the last couple weeks, the possibility of a real relationship, of you staying or him going, and that's too much. 

 You both shed clothes on your way to the bedroom, a trail of shirts and pants until you’re naked and laid out for him, and Mike swears he just might cry because you’re so beautiful, just as he remembered with a little more meat on your hips and thighs, a new scar on your calf that he asks about before brushing his lips over it. That leg is already resting on his shoulder, and once he gets situated on his stomach, he throws the other one over himself.

 His mouth starts to water as he gazes at your pussy, so fucking pretty, hole fluttering when he spreads you open. You can’t answer his question about the injury as he lowers his face, pressing the flat of his tongue to the sensitive skin then dipping it inside of you. 

 “Oh, fuck.”

 You taste and smell and feel perfect, and the only thought in his mind is to devour you. He won’t stop until you’re crying, drool leaking from your mouth and your cunt. And, he knows exactly how to get you to that point. 

 Mike flicks over your clit until it grows firm against his tongue then sucks it into his mouth. The noise you make goes straight to his cock, and he starts to rut into the mattress to get some kind of friction. He can already feel precum dripping from his tip, knows you won’t be the only one getting messy tonight, but he doesn’t care. He’s never cared. 

 Mike only pulls away when your thighs start to tremble around his head, and it’s only to mark them with bruises. It reminds him of the last time, when you’d let him fuck you in a fit of desperation. It had been his undoing. He thought of that night for years, and now that he’s able to do it all again, he can’t help but confess, “Fuck, I’ve missed your pussy,” just before he spits on it. 

 Your chest is rising with every little whimper you release as your nails dig into your palms. He’s never been happier to have long arms, able to reach up and massage your tits, stretching his fingers out to span across your chest, thumb on one nipple, pinky on the other, and as he teases both of them, he moans at the fresh slick that coats his tongue. 

 “A finger,” you pant, “Give me a finger, fuck, at least one, please please please—”

 You’ve always been so cute when you babble. Mike can never say no when you talk to him like that, but after assessing and deeming you fit, he slides two fingers into you at once, still sucking your clit.

 You swear loudly, almost in surprise, but that doesn’t stop you from moving your hips, fucking yourself on every digit as your jaw drops open. 

 Mike wants to see your face—has to see it, so he licks up your body, stopping to tongue over your nipples as he goes. He never falters in his thrusting, still knows the exact angle he has to crook his fingers to hit your g-spot. Your back arches, and you plant your feet flat on the mattress to give yourself more leverage, more control. Mike smirks down at you, enjoying your euphoric expression as he grinds his palm against the bundle of nerves that is the key to making you fall apart. 

 “Oh my god—oh, god—fuck, Miche.”

 His breath catches in his throat. God, he hasn’t heard that in too long. He never told you, not that he ever had to, but hearing you call him that drove him crazy, made him fall further in love and lust at the same time, and hearing it now has the same effect.

 “Please,” you whine, then repeat it, spreading your legs to coax him deeper. “Fuck, I need you so bad, s-so bad.”

He’s in the perfect position to rub his cock over your stomach, smearing pre everywhere it touches. From the beginning, Mike has loved leaving traces of himself on you, always felt like he could almost smell it on your skin, like a sigil to ward off others.

 He places a soft kiss at the corner of one closed eye, then on the other, and when you open them to look at him, he sees that they’re filled with tears. 

 It makes him pause, but you keep riding his fingers and beg, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop, m’fine, just—”

 “Why're you crying then?" he grins, leaning down to lick your bottom lip. "Feel good?" 

 You nod, raising to your elbows to force your mouth against his, sliding your tongue inside then whining when Mike pulls away, but it's only to gather the spit in his mouth. When he kisses you again, he makes sure you take it all, pushing saliva past his teeth and onto your palette, and when you swallow, Mike makes a noise of satisfaction. 

 "That's my fuckin' girl."

 That wide, fuck-drunk smile he loves so much spreads across your face as you accept the praise you never would have when you were younger.

 Mike noses just under your ear then asks, "You ready for my cock?" 

 "Always,” you breathe. “Always ready for it."

 "Yeah?" You nod, face scrunching up, and Mike thinks there's a chance that you're—"Gonna come for me first?" 

 Your muscles are starting to tense, hips stuttering, and he can actually feel your pussy spasming around his fingers. 

 "Come on, baby, you can do it. Just—'

 Your eyes roll back as your body pulses. Mike's hand is coated with slick that he can't wait to lick off, and he fucks you with his fingers until you go limp. 

 He cleans his hand then slithers back between your legs to catch everything that's leaking from you. You release a pitiful moan when he traces a circle around your entrance then squeal when he rubs his beard over it. 

 "Jesus fuck!"

 "Sensitive?" He teases before crawling back up to kiss you. 

 Holding himself up with one arm, Mike takes hold of his cock, painfully hard at this point, and parts your wet folds with his tip. He slides it up and down, teasing both you and himself and gasping every time it just barely dips inside of you. 

 "Miche, please."

 "You sound good when you beg," he tells you. You've been doing an awful lot of that tonight. 

 "Good enough to fuck me?" 

 "Mm, maybe," he plays, but he's cut off when you lift yourself just enough to take his cockhead inside of you, squeezing it so that he swears. 

 It completely dismantles any self-control Mike thought he had, and he gives you everything he has in a single thrust that makes you scream his name. 

 "You asked for it," he tells you, starting to pull out. 

 You grip his biceps, shaking your head. "J-just stay still for a—oh god, oh god…"

 Mike doesn't move, lets you adjust while he enjoys the way your cunt clenches around his cock. You're panting, eyebrows knit together, and apologize, "Sorry, give me… a minute. Been a while since I've taken anything this s-size."

 It's juvenile, but Mike's chest still puffs a little when you tell him that, and that feeling only grows when you give him the go ahead to move and he pulls out to see that his cock is already covered in white cream.

 Breathing out a quiet, "Fuck," he slowly pushes back in, mesmerized by the way it creates a thick ring at the base. "So pretty," he mutters, rubbing a thumb over the skin that's stretched around him. "Such a pretty pussy."

 He lets a string of spit drip from his mouth and onto your clit then strokes the swollen bud in circles, the pad of his fingers brushing over the tiny hole that makes you twitch every time. 

 Mike falls into a very slow, deep rhythm, torturing you as he drags his cock over every inch of your satin walls. Tiny gasps are pushed from your throat with every thrust, growing louder when Mike sits back on his heels and pulls your hips up to meet his. It leaves you helpless, only able to claw at the blankets, but your efforts are half-hearted, the press of Mike's cockhead against your g-spot obviously making it hard to do just about anything. 

 "I—I—I—..."

 "You what, baby?" He coos while admiring how big his hands look where they wrap around your waist, holding you mostly still as he drives his cock in and out of you. 

 Your cunt is pulsing again, so tight around him as it drips with slick and cream. The sounds it's making, an obscene balance of suction and squelching, has Mike shaking over you because it's so lewd but so familiar, and god, he has missed this. 

 And, you're right. It's stupid because he's just putting himself in the same place he was in ten years ago, but now he's a grown fucking adult, able to handle himself better, communicate better, fuck you better. 

 Tears leak from the corners of your eyes when he picks up his pace, and he groans when he presses in just a little too far, cockhead nudging against the wall deep inside of you. Your eyelids flutter, toes curling where your feet dangle and shake on either side of Mike. 

 His hips start to snap against yours, his balls swinging every time, and Mike remembers how nice it felt when they'd slap against your clit, the way you'd sing for him, and well…

 "Turn over," he breathes, pulling out and helping as you get to your hands and knees. 

 He takes the time to appreciate the view, letting the weight of his cock settle on your back just to get a visual of how much you take of it, what it might look like deep in your ass and what it would be like to see your stomach bulge from it. 

 Another day.

 Not wasting any more time, Mike sheathes himself inside you once again, spreading your cheeks and spitting on your puckering hole so that he can press against it with a thumb. 

 Your pussy opens up for him, like your body is begging him for more, so Mike fucks you harder, faster, slipping the tip of his finger into your asshole so that you tense up and say his name drunkenly. 

 His heavy balls hit your clit over and over, making you squirm and swear, head hanging back in an invitation, so Mike uses his free hand to grab you by the hair, pulling and glancing at what he can see of your face to make sure he isn't hurting you too much. 

 That grin is back, crooked and shiny with drool you keep having to suck back from your teeth. Mike hasn't felt this good having sex in god knows how long (he knows exactly how long it's been), and he thinks out loud, "Always take my cock so well. Always been able to…"

 "Feels so good, Miche," you cry, "You feel so fucking good, oh my god."

 He takes you like this until you can't hold yourself up anymore, elbows buckling underneath you, and all he does then is fall onto his back and pull you with him, letting you ride him like this and dragging his nails down your spine. It curves under his touch, arching and bowing as you lean forward to plant your hands between his legs and bounce on him. 

 Mike has a perfect view from this angle, huffing at the way your puffy lips open for him, clinging to his cock and dripping gossamer strands. Pressure slowly starts to build in both his gut and his balls, a hot sensation that grows, making him feel full and swollen and fuck, he can't wait to fill you up, can't wait to see you sloppy with his cum again. 

 But, not yet. Not yet. 

 Pushing you until you move off of him, Mike grabs his pillows and shoves you down on them, kissing you again before burying his face between your legs. Your hands are immediately in his hair, and he smiles when you tug at it a little harshly, using the strands as a means to guide Mike right where you want him. Even though he's taking this little break to let himself calm down, he can't help but press his hips to the mattress. He's hot and throbbing and dripping pre, ready but not ready to unload everything inside of you. He doesn't want it to end too soon, wants to savor every second because you're here crying and pleading for him, pushing yourself against his face only to pull back when he sucks on your clit. 

 He's able to fit three fingers inside of you now, keeps licking and fucking you until you whisper a slew of curses and start to warn him, "You're gonna make me—" breaking into a high-pitched moan as you squirt into his mouth and all over his hand. 

 "Fuck yes, again, come on, baby, do that again."

 Mike coaxes another out of you, groaning at the feeling of you dripping down his face and chuckling at the way you shiver and sit up. Your eyes are barely open, head swaying back and forth, but you plant a hand on his chest with the confidence of someone who doesn't look like they're about to pass out, shoving him back until he lays down. 

Straddling him, you sink down on his cock and bite your lip as you rock back and forth for a few seconds. Mike can feel fluid dripping over his pelvis, murmurs, "So messy," while pulling you down for a lazy kiss. 

 He lets you ride him, lets you think you're in control for a while until your legs start to get tired, rhythm becoming slower, and then Mike takes over. He lifts and drops you to his content, hips meeting yours as he fucks up into you. Your own hands cup your tits, pinching your nipples and putting on a show as you bounce up and down. 

 "You're so good," you breathe. "So fucking good to me, god, Miche, right there."

 He's on the brink, so close to his climax, but he holds back, giving it to you just the way you want it until it starts to hurt, and then he grunts, "'m gonna come, baby, I have to. Fuck, please, please, let me—"

 "Yes, yes, wanna feel you…"

 Mike's head sinks further into the pillow as his hips move without any thought on his part. He spills inside of you, hot ropes of cum filling your cunt so that it starts to leak out around him, then shooting even more inside of you. 

 "Jesus fucking—"

 Your muscles clench, squeezing and milking him until Mike starts groaning and twitching from overstimulation. 

 He could die right here and now and be totally fine with it. He really could. But before he can let that happen... 

 Mike urges you back, letting you get situated on your pillows again as he gazes at your stretched pussy and everything dripping out of it. 

 As soon as you stop moving, Mike is working his tongue inside of you. He can taste both himself and you, feel it coat his tongue as he drinks in as much as he can before sliding up to your face and taking your chin so you'll open your mouth. 

 The first drop makes you open wider, sticking your tongue out so that Mike can fill your mouth with his cum and spit, and the fact that you let him is so incredibly arousing, he just might fuck you until he's coming dry. 

 The little pattern is repeated a few times, Mike licking your pussy then spitting everything into your mouth, but he leaves some for lubrication, shoving the last of his cum back inside you when he starts fucking you on his fingers. He keeps you pliant, sucking on your clit so that he can slowly ease his pinky into your ass, and it isn't long before you're letting out breathy little sounds and tensing underneath him. 

 He takes care of you through your orgasm, looking at your face from where he lays. You're so pretty when you come, mouth open, eyebrows high, the picture of ecstasy, and Mike wants to remember it forever. He wants to keep you like this forever. 

 You shudder when he pulls his fingers from you, whine when he slowly laves over your sensitive pussy with his tongue, but after several long licks, Mike crawls back up to lay next to you. 

 "God damn," you laugh. "I had almost forgotten how good you are."

 Mike smirks, kissing your temple and nipping the shell of your ear. "Almost?"

 You nod, a spent smile making your lips curl. "I don't think I could ever fully forget even if I wanted to."

 Humming, he traces fingers over your stomach, now sticky from the mess of precum he had basically slathered you with. 

 "Yeah, we were pretty good for each other when we weren't being stupid," he muses. 

 He should probably step away for a few minutes, hop in the shower and wait for the flood of chemicals in his brain to fall away. 

 "We were, weren't we?" 

 "Mhm."

 Mike dips to press his face into your neck. He just can't stop touching you, can't stop breathing you in. He needs to memorize everything about this—how soft you are underneath him, how you smell like sex and sweat and your perfume, how quiet your voice is when you speak to him. 

 He feels your body rise and fall with a heavy sigh, and he's about to ask if you want to rinse off, but you open your mouth first, thoughtful when you tell him, "I loved you so much, Miche."

 "I know," he replies. Even if he couldn't see it then, he can now. You may not have told him to his face, but if Mike had been just a little smarter back then, he would have realized you were telling him in different ways. "I loved you too."

 He feels you pet his hair, probably a tangled wreck from being pulled. "I, uh…" You swallow hard, and Mike rests his chin on the hand on your chest, your heart beating against his palm a little too fast. 

 "You wanna shower before you say whatever you're about to?" 

 He knows what you're about to tell him. He just wants to make sure you don't regret it when you come back to yourself. "Yeah, probably."

 Both of you leave the bed on unsteady legs, Mike leading you to the shower and setting it to your favored temperature. He stands under the spray with you, taking the brunt of the water while kissing you. You move slowly, tangling your tongue with his, mapping out his body with exploratory hands. 

Mike is the one to break away after several minutes, insisting on soaping you up and dragging his loofah over your skin. He even sinks to his knees, gentle as he cleans your thighs and between them, careful not to get suds anywhere they're not supposed to be. When he’s finished, Mike presses a kiss to your pelvic bone before standing again, grinning when you pull him back to your face. 

 He doesn't have the same, short refractory period he used to otherwise he'd fuck you against the tiled wall, but he's content to stay like this, sucking on your lip and pressing against you. 

 Even after you've been given the chance to get your thoughts in order, you still blink up at Mike, water droplets dotting and falling from your eyelashes as you tell him, "I love you. I still love you. I don't think I can stop."

 He holds your head in his hands, brushes his nose against yours as his chest swells with more emotion than he thinks he can actually handle, and his own confession is easy: "I love you, too." Another soft peck to your lips before he adds, "I think you already knew that, though."

 "Wasn't positive."

 Mike knows there are logistics to consider, but the two of you can work on that later. For now he just wants to finish rinsing off and crawl into bed with you. 

 He should probably change the sheets, though, and find you pajamas, so Mike does exactly that as you traipse back out to the kitchen for some water, wearing absolutely nothing and making him bite his lip. 

 He puts new bedding on the mattress, then digs through his dresser for a t-shirt and boxers. Something catches his eye, printed material that almost makes him laugh out loud. He doesn't know why he still has the shorts, especially since he ruined the shirt a long, long time ago, but he's so glad he does. 

 Pink and covered in palm trees, he can't even fit into them any more, but it's fine. He thinks he knows how he can repurpose them. 

 But first, he needs to call his mom. 

 *

 It's an easy fix, really. Before the Sina project even comes close to wrapping up, Mike finds a place for you in his department, something you hadn't thought possible, but apparently he's kind of a big deal in the field. 

 When he makes you the job offer in the conference room, he's able to keep it professional for a whole three minutes before you agree to the terms, and then he's out of his chair and picking you up to swing around. Just like that, the whole fucking office knows about the two of you. 

 "Ha! You owe me fifty bucks, Moblit!" Hange shouts for everyone to hear, and you shake your head as the quiet man asks if he can Venmo them. 

 "I fucking knew it! I knew there was something going on! God, that's so satisfying. I'm not even mad that you're leaving us."

 "It's been going on for a long time now," you snort. 

 Hange leans against the wall and wriggles their eyebrows, "Yeah, what, like, the whole three months we’ve been here?" 

 "Try ten years," Mike mutters, and the eyes behind Hange's glasses nearly roll out of their head. 

 You and Mike have to sign a few things, contracts and couples disclosures and what not, but you don't mind. 

 The first thing you do is ask for a few days off in order to move, and Mike naturally does the same to help. You live just over three hours away, but are able to recruit some help in the form of your old friends. 

 You let out a shrill scream when you see Erwin step out of his car outside of your apartment complex, all but throw yourself into his arms so that he laughs and squeezes you tight against him. It's been a couple years since you've actually seen him, the distance between you just a little too far, but it's so nice to stare at his stupid face again. 

 Nile is also there with a very pregnant Marie on his arm, and Hitch and Rhi arrive as all the guys are carrying down the first load of packed boxes. 

 "Damn, it has been a long time since we've all been together," you say, looking around at everyone and grinning after you tape up another set of cardboard flaps. 

 "Yeah, kinda weird how we all just get along now," Hitch giggles. 

 "It's almost like we're adults or something," Rhi adds. 

 You pass her the box, but she just groans and passes it to Erwin. 

 Everyone takes turns making trips to Mike's apartment, and the moving effort takes three days in total. You really need to find a way to repay all of them, maybe suggest a nice dinner. 

 "God, why do you own so much shit, babe?" Mike asks after loading the last shelves of a bookcase into his car (that you still hate). 

 "Because everything has sentimental value. Don't judge me."

 "Oh, I'm judging. When'd you get so soft?"

 You roll your eyes and reach past him to close the trunk door. 

 The others are all standing in the parking lot with you, antsy and excited for the two of you, or so you assume. 

 "I really can't thank you guys enough. You've made this so much easier," you tell them. 

 Erwin grins widely and pulls you into a hug, and to your surprise, Hitch slides around you to hold you from behind. It makes you laugh and call them dumb, but when they step back, you're hit with the realization that they weren't just being goofy; they were strategizing, keeping you shielded from Mike who is now kneeling on the asphalt and chewing on his bottom lip. 

 Your eyes grow wide, and you step back only to run straight into Erwin's chest. He puts two, grounding hands on your shoulders, and you can almost feel his smile as Mike reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. 

 A small pink box. 

 A small pink box with pieces of fucking palm trees wrapping around it. 

 "Did you get that fucking upholstered?" You shout, and Mike lets out a giddy laugh, his eyes so narrow from grinning that you can barely see the green. "I don't even wanna open it. I cannot believe—"

 "Good thing you don't have to open it then," he chuckles. “I do.”

 "You are fucking impossible, you know that?" 

 "Yeah," he agrees before prying the ridiculous box apart and revealing a ring that makes you tear up. 

 It isn't huge, but it's far from plain, sparkling stones wrapping around it with a larger, round cut in the middle. It's extremely pretty and very you, and oh, you wanna put it on, you wanna put it on right now. 

 "Don't look too impressed. Mom helped me pick it out, and it’s all ethically sourced, of course," Mike says, and you wipe your eyes while giggling. 

 "Oh my god, she's crying!" Rhi yells. 

 "Shut up, it's because of that atrocious box."

 Mike looks behind you at Erwin. "I knew she'd love it."

 "Yeah, good call, bro."

 "I hate both of you."

 "Still gonna marry me, though, right?" Mike is still grinning, but you can see the barest hint of worry in his eyes, and you can't blame him because this is big. This is commitment. Marriage. He wants you to marry him. 

 And, some will say it’s too quick, that you’ve only been actually dating for a couple of months, but it makes sense because if you’re being honest, you never really fell out of love with Mike. He’s always been nestled deep in your heart.

 "Against my better judgement," you smirk. 

 He stands up quick enough to make himself dizzy, has to brace a hand on his car as he kisses you. 

 "Finally!" Erwin shouts, clapping his hands and being joined by the others. 

 Mike slides the ring from the terrible box, pushes it onto your finger with shaky hands, and when you admire it in the sun, you look at him and nod. "Very nice, Zacharias. Even in the parking lot setting."

 "I just wanted everyone to be here! If we went somewhere fancy, you would've figured it out."

 That's true. Going to some nice restaurant or quaint little park would have definitely tipped you off. 

 "Also, you know once we're married, you will also be Zacharias."

 "Yeah," you nod thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess I will be. Hey," you look at him with raised eyebrows. "Wanna shotgun beers at the wedding?" 

 Mike laughs loudly. "That is how it all started, isn't it?" 

 "Yeah, this stupid frat boy in a Hawaiian shirt came up to me and demanded I shotgun a room temp beer."

 "Sounds like an asshole," Mike chuckles. 

 You shrug as he pulls you into his chest and sigh into his shirt, "He turned out alright, I guess."