#i’ve also never seen her correct grammar? like not as in she needs to do that when we’re critiquing in class

[anders-hawke]

finally back to thinking about my essay class today. i don’t think i have ever gotten less helpful feedback.

[weasleyswizardpleases]

And the Living is Easy (Fred x reader)

Summary: You spend the first night of summer vacation getting into trouble with the Weasleys + Harry and Hermione. Fred x reader. Fluffy mischief mostly, but sex is discussed and implied. 

Warnings/Notes: Light sexual content but not all out smut, alcohol, heights, language. I wrote this to be a stand alone, but I enjoyed it so much that it might become part of a loose series of slice of life-y reader x twins fics set at the burrow over the summer! ps i did not edit this at all after writing it at 2am so. uh

Summer at the Weasley’s is my favorite time of year. After my mother passed, you were tossed around from boarding school to boarding school, relative to relative, never really having a say in where you went, or with whom. But ever since becoming fast friends with Fred and George while repairing brooms for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, you’ve pretty much been considered an honorary Weasley.

You stow your suitcases in the overhead and squeeze into a seat next to Fred and George. Across from you, Ron, Lee, and Harry are packed in. 

“Do you reckon you’ll ever make it out to the burrow, Lee?” asks George pointedly. 

“Yeah, you don’t know what you’re missing out on. Mrs. Weasley’s hotcakes are out of this world.” Harry says.

“And there’s loads of space to play quidditch.” you say.

“And loads of secret spots not even Mum knows about where we can basically do whatever we like.” adds Fred.

“You know my mum will hardly let me out of her sight for a day. Merlin’s sake, she’s practically ass to elbow on me all summer.” Lee says, faking a pout. “Quit ribbing at me, would you? Or I’ll spend the summer in my room coming up with derogatory names to call you on the Quidditch pitch.”

Murmurs of “Come on, we’re only joking.” and “Fine, fine.” fill the packed compartment. You lift your rat Pansy up to the window to show him the scenery.

“Bet you’ve never seen the fine English countryside like this, eh Pansy?” you baby-talk at him, scratching his little noggin.

“You know that thing is never gonna talk back at you, right Y/N?” says Fred, rolling his eyes. 

“You never know. Look what happened to Scabbers.” you say, wiggling you eyebrows. “This rat could also secretly be a creepy little pervert who watches me undress at night.”

“I suppose it isn’t unprecedented in the rat community,” agrees George. Ron scowls in disdain.

“That’s my pet we’re talking about!” he says, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

“Yeah, fine pet he was.” says Harry, grinning.

“I will say, Ron-” Fred begins, clearing his throat. “You’ll never find another like him.” He claps his little brother on the back and stands up, peering down the hallway. “Oi, it’s the trolley, look alive Georgie.” George rises and straightens his coat. The boys have been planning for ages to charm the trolley witch into selling their skiving snackboxes. They run off down the car towards her. You tuck Pansy back into his cage and watch the scenery go by yourself. Before you know it, you’re being shaken awake by Fred and George. 

“C’mon, Dad is waiting!” says George. 

“Got you some chocolate frogs, but that means you owe us one.” says Fred, shoving a wriggling paper bag into your hands. Delighted, you expertly open the bag, catch a frog, and slurp it up before it manages to escape. 

“Tank -ou” you mumble, your mouth still full. Lugging your trunks over to meet Mr. Weasley, you smile with excitement. Every summer with the Weasleys is a blast, but you know this one will start off with a bang because last week Fred absconded with a jug of top shelf mead from Filch’s office. You’d all agreed that you needed it more, since you want to have fun and have no money, while Filch obviously dislikes fun and ostensibly has some amount of money squirreled away from all his groundskeeping or lurking or whatever his job is. 

After greeting Molly, you and the twins bound up to their room- and, when you’re here, your room- pushing and shoving your way up the narrow stairwell. You toss your things down and throw yourself onto a bed, spreading your arms as if making a snow angel. 

“Oh, boys, it is good to be home!” you say, laughing. Fred and George always joke that their mother likes you, Harry, and Hermione better than any of her own actual children, and you love teasing them about it. 

“Speak for yourself, she’s already got that sending-us-to-de-gnome-the-

garden-while-hungover gleam in her eyes,” retorts George good-naturedly.

“And get your shoes off my bed! Mum will have all three of us beating out the rugs if she sees that.” says Fred. You close your eyes and pretend to be asleep, baiting the boys into attempting to push you off the bed. You wind up making such a ruckus roughhousing that Hermione comes in looking concerned, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You all three pause from your compromised position to look at her, you releasing a vise grip on Fred, George dropping your left leg, which he had been twisting violently.

“When did you get here?” you ask, running to hug her. 

“Just apparated over, my parents would never forgive me if I didn’t at least drop by for dinner before practically moving here for the summer!” she replies, turning to greet the twins. 

“Are you going to be participating in our little soiree tonight, ‘Mione?” asks George, raising an eyebrow. 

“What are you three planning?” she asks sternly, stifling an excited smile.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” you say. 

“But don’t wear white shoes.” warns Fred. Hermione gives you all a funny look before running off to finish her greetings. 

“Where are we going tonight, Freddie?” you ask, looking up at your tall friend. He gives you a cheeky glance.

“Oh, out by the bog. There’s a huge hill between there and the house, so we can make a fire and nobody will see.”

“And there’s a huge stand of trees and a pond between that spot and the neighbors’,” says George. 

“You two have got it all figured out. And you’ve got the firewhiskey! What a night, what a night it shall be.” you say, your voice singsonging as you dance exaggeratedly. 

“Too bad nobody invited any girls.” says Ron from the doorway. He’s been standing in the hallway looking in the mirror for some time now, fussing with his hair.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Ginny shouts from her open door down the hall.

“YOU don’t count!” Ron replies.

“We know you’ve got someone else in mind, little brother.” George says, flicking Ron in the ear. 

“It’s pretty obvious,” Fred agrees.

“You get all flustered when she corrects your grammar,” you say.

“And you let her braid your hair.” says Fred.

“And you-” begins George, but Ron interrupts, his face beet red.

“Shhhh! Buzz off you two, or I’ll start blabbing on about who you’re interested in as well.”

The twins exchange a somewhat threatened glance, but say nothing.

“That’s right, I’m not as dull as you lot like to think, thank you very much. I notice things. So let me alone or I’ll sing like a canary!” Ron finishes, turning back to the mirror for a final glance at his hair before trotting downstairs. 

“You two have crushes?” you demand, turning to stare down the twins. Fred shrugs with his usual attitude but you notice a light blush spreading across each of their cheeks. You swat him across the chest. “Why didn’t you tell me? Who is it? You motherfuckers.” You grab George by the collar. “George, tell me who it is! A crush, my god.” You throw your hands up in the air. They’re being super weird, so you decide to drop the subject. “When you snog every girl and half the boys in the school, between the two of you, you practically hold us all down to tell us the details but now you’ve got a crush and suddenly you’re like a couple of mimes.” You look each of them in the eyes, and both avoid your stare. “Fine! Don’t tell me.” You throw your hands up in mock anger and lead the charge downstairs to begin setting the table for dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~After dinner, you pass the evening playing cards and chatting until Mr. and Mrs. Weasley retire for the night. Then, you’re left with all your friends and Percy, who it has been agreed simply cannot know you’re sneaking out to drink in the woods, because he is a killjoy. Using a previously discussed maneuver, Hermione attempts to trick him into believing that she and Ginny are going to bed, hoping that he will get nervous about being bullied if left alone with you and the twins, and elect to follow them to bed soon after. However, Percy is in an unusually jovial mood, and so Ron and Harry are forced to retreat as well. As a last line of defense, you pretend to fall asleep on George’s shoulder, nuzzling into his sweater. When Percy gets up to go to the bathroom, you dash outside into the moonlit yard, covering your mouth so your giggles don’t give you away. You run to crouch behind the garden shed, doubled over with laughter. 

“I thought he would never stop yapping.”

“God, how are you two related to that bore?”

“We can’t help it.” Fred says, bending to gather rocks from the ground. 

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Watch!” he raises his hand to throw a pebble at Ginny’s window, but you grab his wrist.

“Have you lost the plot? Percy will hear! And probably your mum too, with your aim. I’ve got a better idea,” you say, peeking around the garden shed while gesturing for the boys to stay put. You pop out of the shed with a dusty, rickety broom. 

“Does this thing still work?” you ask.

“Well enough,” says Fred, getting a running start and jumping on the broom. Wobbling a bit, he sails up to Ginny’s window and confers with the girls, then moves on to Ron’s window, where he perches on the sill, one foot dangling out the window.

Beside you, you’re aware of George’s presence beside you in the cool, sticky night.

“Bloody brilliant,” he murmurs, elbowing you gently. “How’d you even know that thing was in there?”

“Lucky guess. I mean, with a family full of Quidditch players, there’s bound to be a broom lying about someplace.” 

Fred jumps down onto the broom and turns a few experimental loop de loops overhead before nearly falling and coming to a shaky landing near your feet. 

“That one belongs on the rubbish heap, honestly,” he says, laughing as he tosses the old thing aside.

“Oh, sure, blame it on the broom,” you tease.

He’s soon followed by Ginny and Hermione on Ginny’s broom. They glide down and come to a halt next to you, stepping down gracefully.

“How are Harry and Ron going to get out? They’d have to go right by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s room, unless Harry has his broom up there with him, but I think I saw it in the foyer.” says Hermione, looking at Fred worriedly.

“Well, err, I told them to climb down,” says Fred earnestly.

“What?!” says Hermione. “They’ll be loud as bison, besides probably breaking their necks.”

“It’s not my fault they’re too dumb to pass their apparation O.W.L.S! They’ll be fine.”

As he finishes his sentence, Ron’s window slides open and Harry’s head pops out. He lowers what appears to be a rope made of sheets and blankets tied together. Hermione’s brow furrows as she watches, helpless, while Ron artlessly slips one leg out the window, before even checking to see that the “rope” is nowhere near long enough to reach the ground. Ginny giggles, biting her lip when she sees Hermione’s distress.

“Do something!” Hermione hisses, nudging her. Ginny groans and soars over to boost Ron onto the back of her broom, going back to do the same for Harry.

“Shite! The firewhiskey,” you whisper, smacking your forehead. Everyone lets out a collective groan, but before you can send someone back up to hunt down the alcohol, Ginny opens her backpack, revealing the gleaming jug. Everyone cheers, but then quickly realizes that loudly cheering may have blown your cover. Fred and George scurry off into the brush and you all follow them down a lightly trod path through the countryside, eventually reaching the open bank of a large, murky pond. This is a spot you’ve never been to before, probably because it’s a fair stretch away from the house, and apparently from any civilization at all. 

Hermione quickly conjures a large fire, creating a pocket of warmth in the chilly night air. You lean against a large rock and shiver when the cool stone brushes the back of your neck. Ginny pulls out the firewhiskey and hands it to Fred, who pops the cork, shouting with glee before knocking back a sip and passing it to George, who passes it to you. The familiar sickly sweet liquid burns your throat and warms your stomach, and you feel your (already barely existent) inhibitions begin melting away.

Before long, Ron suggests that you all play a game, and you run through your options: truth or dare, spin the bottle, a wizarding game you’ve never heard of, and hide and go seek. Hermione refutes hide and go seek on the basis of safety, and Fred refutes spin the bottle on the basis of the fact that four out of six of you are siblings. Not everyone brought their wands, so you can’t play the magic game, and you’re left with truth or dare as the apparent winner, which you were rooting for anyway, because you want to see what you can get the twins to do. It almost makes you wish Percy was here so you could put him in a compromising position, but knowing him, he’d find a way to make walking on hot coals boring. 

“I’ll start, I’ll start!” you volunteer, looking around the circle. “My first victim will beeeee…” you look at Hermione, who cringes nervously, then spin around to point at Harry. “Harry Potter. What will it be, Mr. Potter, truth or dare?” you ask.

Harry shrugs. “Hmm.. I’ll do.. Dare, why not?” he replies. 

“Alright Harry, I dare you tooooo.... Oh, easy. I dare you to smack Ron every time he says something you think is stupid tonight. And be honest, or we’ll smack you,” you say. The twins nod in agreement. 

“That’s not fair! That’s barely a real dare!” protests Ron. You raise an eyebrow at Harry, who turns and gives his friend a good wallop. 

“Alright Harry, your turn.” 

You play for nearly an hour, all the while passing the bottle lazily between you, until everyone’s good and tipsy on the strong liquor. Several good dares are exchanged: Fred is dared to give you a lap dance, which he does with gusto and an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. You dare Ginny to race you across the pond and back, and you both strip down to your skivvies and plunge into the chilly water. Ginny wins, of course, but you just wanted an excuse for a swim. Fred lends you his cloak, patting it onto your shoulders to dry them before you pull your pants back on. George dares Ron to walk back to the house and get food, which he reluctantly agrees to after everyone bullies him into it. By the time he gets back with a basket of pastries and jam, you’ve transitioned to mainly truths, because the well of dares has run dry. 

When it’s Hermione’s turn to ask Fred, she blushingly asks if he’s lost his virginity. 

“What, do you all think I’ve snogged every girl we know without scaring? Have a little faith, please.”

“Clever, but that’s not an answer!” slurs Hermione, pointing at him and grinning. “Have you actually had sex before, or do you just talk a big game?” 

“Well, have you?” you ask, laughing as he tries to bluster out an answer.

“”Course I have. Ask anybody. Everybody must think George and I are the male sluts of the century, the way you people talk.” 

“Still not an answer!” you say, looking at him mischievously. 

“How’s this for an answer, then?” he retorts, pulling you to his waist and kissing you on the lips melodramatically, throwing you up against the rock, practically fucking but for the clothes. What’s probably thirty seconds of kissing at most feels like an hour. Everyone goes “Oooooh!” and when he finally lets you go you’re flabbergasted, but you recover your senses.

“Point taken, then. Alright Freddie, your turn,” you say, straightening your clothes and trying not to look like you enjoyed that. 

“I dare Hermione to let us play hide and seek, for fuck’s sake,” he says, lazily.

“Ugh! I might be drunk but I’m not letting anyone stumble around alone in the pitch black plastered out of your mind. Ask me a real question!” 

“What if we weren’t alone?” Harry asks, looking around. “I mean, we could go in pairs or little groups. Like team hide and seek, basically.”

“I call Fred and George!” you cry, throwing your arms around their sweaty necks. 

“Fine, but please be careful. And everyone should be on a team with at least one person with a wand,” says Hermione, who teams up with Ron. That leaves Harry and Ginny on the last team.

George produces his wand and casts an illumination spell.

“Not it!” You shout, immediately echoed by Ginny. 

“Alright, we’ll count to 50” says Hermione, but Harry and George protest until they finally agree to 3 minutes.

Fred tears off into the woods and you and George follow, bushes thwacking you in the face, vines snagging at your ankles. You break through the brush into a field, panting, and stop for a break. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, looking around. “And where are we?” 

“No idea!” Fred says gleefully. 

“What about over there?” George nods towards a patch of grass and trees down in a glenn. You lope down hill through high grass and crash to a halt in the stand of trees, crouching low. Fred huddles next to you and George clambers clumsily into one of the trees, flattening himself into one of its crooks.

You can feel your stomach churning after your run, but you manage to successfully push down the acrid taste rising in your throat. Above you, you hear George belch, and just manage to slip out of the way as he spits a pitiful glob of vomit to the ground.

“Oi, we’re down here, you lout,” hisses Fred, ducking.

“Look at the state of you,” you drawl, bumping into Fred as you readjust around George’s vomit. He groans from his spot up in the tree and lies back down sleepily. To your surprise, you feel the urge to pull Fred closer rather than pushing him away. The earthy smell of the forest floor calms your stomach, and you find your mind wandering to his lips, his hands on your waist and neck. Buzzing with drunken impulsivity, you wrap your arms around his slender waist and pull him to sit beside you. He looks surprised, but readily slouches against the tree trunk next to you. You can feel his chest rising and falling with each breath. The air is still and cool in that settled way characteristic of the night.

Overhead, you think you can hear George beginning to snore. 

“Freddie-” you begin, but before you can say a word, his lips are on yours, his hands tangled in your hair. You push him down and roll over so that you’re straddling him, gripping his jaw in one hand as you kiss him, hard, then gently. His lips are softer and more relaxed than they were when he kissed you earlier, and his body less certain. There’s no false bravado in him now, and you bite his lip gently, your tongues barely batting together. You reach down to unzip his pants but he pulls back.

“Y/N- I- Look, I may have lied earlier,” he says, his face flush with desire and embarrassment. You look at him quizzically, your drunken mind not connecting all the dots. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I haven’t… done this before. I’ve only ever kissed. Although I’ve done quite a lot of that.” he says quietly. You blink.

“Oh. Oh! You total freak. Why go to all that trouble to convince everyone you have?”

“Have you considered that maybe I just wanted to kiss you?”

This shuts you up. He pulls you back down to kiss you again, this time on the cheek, on the forehead, the neck. 

“Don’t do anything you don’t want to do,” you say carefully, brushing a bead of sweat from his forehead. 

“No… no, I’m ready. I want this now,” he says, tugging at your shirt. You pull it off over your head and toss it into the grass, the game of hide and seek forgotten. Let the shirt be a warning flag to any nosy passerby. Fred kisses across your chest. 

“Freddie, we’re drunk,” you remind him, your breathing growing heavier as his tongue flicks across your nipple.

“I want you,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck in between kisses. “I want you, I want you, I want you,” he says. You kiss him in reply, and move again to unzip his pants. You feel his hard member ready to burst out of his jeans, and it sends a thrill through you.

You had considered that you might one day wind up with Fred or George, and honestly, you had figured it would be on some less-than-sober whim like this, but you never really pictured it. You certainly never imagined Fred like this, innocent and tame, hoping for someone else to take the lead.

“Will you show me how?”

“Yes,” you breathe your reply into his mouth.

“Will you go slow?” he asks sweetly, his coy submissiveness sending tremors through your body. 

“Yes. Come closer.”

In the morning, you groggily open your eyes at the sound of birds chirping. You sit up, your head throbbing, and look around. Above you and a few feet to your right, George is sleeping soundly on his belly in the flat convergence of an oak tree’s branches. To your left, shirtless and smeared with dirt, is Fred curled on top of his cloak, also fast asleep. 

“Guess they gave up on finding us,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair to smooth it into place. You remember what happened last night well enough, although some parts are cloudier than others, and you don’t remember deciding to fall asleep at all. You suppose it just happened at some point. Your heart beats faster, wondering if you and Fred will be an item after this, or if he’ll want to keep it quiet, or if you just won’t talk about it. You’re not sure what you want, yet. It’s still purple pre-dawn in the countryside, the sun not quite peeking over the horizon yet.

You know you enjoyed yourself, and you adore Fred- as a friend, certainly. As something more? Maybe. You brush away your anxieties and trust that you’ll settle things when you’re less groggy. Suddenly, it dawns on you that you’ve got to get back to the house before Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wake up and notice your absence. You stand up as though the ground caught fire, kicking at Fred and shouting at George to get down.

You fetch your shirt from a nearby bush, and pluck a twig from Fred’s hair as he looks up, dazed.

“God, my head,” he says, squinting up at you. “What the hell time is it?”

“Never mind that, you’ll have worse than a headache if we don’t get back to the house by like, yesterday.”

“Merlin!” George exclaims, perking up and basically falling from his perch to the ground. Recovering he stands up, taking his surroundings in. “Hold on, what the hell happened to you, Fred? Where’s your shirt?”

“No time for all that, go!” you say, shoving George in the direction you suppose the house is in. You muster as fast a pace as you can and follow him, Fred scrambling to gather his cloak and tee shirt before catching up with you. With George’s back to both of you, you exchange a goofy grin and a wave of relief runs through you. He obviously doesn’t consider last night a mistake, either. You slip your hand into his and make your way into the breaking dawn.

[xlostinobsessionsx]

Everything has changed | Charlie Gillespie

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x female Reader

Word Count: 2,854

Warnings: None, just tooth-rotting fluff

Hello, lovely fantoms! 👻💞

I’ve written my first Charlie Gillespie imagine ever. It’s been a while since I’ve last written anything. Furthermore I’ve never written anything in English because it’s not my native language.

A really really big thank you goes to @bass-ic-deaky 💕

Thank you for going out of your way to not only correct my syntax and grammar but also to even writing an entire part of it and making it way more emotional! (A/N: She refined the airport scene and now it makes me cry!) 💗

I hope you enjoy it!

(It’s based on the song Everything has changed by Taylor Swift ft. Ed Sheeran)

Masterlist

The first season of Julie and the Phantoms had been a huge success. It wasn’t long after for the second season to be announced. Kenny Ortega wanted to support even more young talent this time and had decided to give young songwriters a chance to write a song for the show. When (Y/N) had learned about this, she quickly had sent drafts of some of her songs to the executives in charge. (Y/N) couldn't believe it when she was invited a few weeks later to go to Vancouver to become part of the show. (Y/N) was not only allowed to attend the vocal coaching and the recordings of the songs, but also to be present during the shooting of the scenes for which she had written the song. The song was used for one of the performances of the band Julie and the Phantoms so (Y/N) hung around a lot with Madison and the boys. They all got on very well and (Y/N) liked each of them a lot. However she had to admit to herself that she had a crush on the canadian. Just a little one. Alright, maybe a big one, but she would never admit it.

(Y/N) always brought her guitar to set, so that she could play a bit in between takes. She was sitting apart from the actors, who were eating lunch, not feeling that hungry today. Not playing too loud to prevent her from disturbing anyone, (Y/N) lightly strummed her guitar strings before softly, she began to sing. 

All I knew this morning when I woke

Is I know something now, know something now I didn't before

This was how (Y/N) had felt the first morning on set. She had been so nervous that she had been trembling slightly. What if the cast didn’t like her song? Even if she had been afraid, she knew that this was a unique chance. It had been a step out of her comfort zone and she had been aware that a lot of new things would be coming her way. 

And all I've seen since 18 hours ago

Is green eyes and freckles

And your smile in the back of my mind making me feel like

The first time her eyes had met the ones of the young actor (Y/N) couldn’t stop thinking about him. From day one Charlie had been incredulously nice to her, trying to make her feel comfortable on set. He had made sure to let her know how much he liked the song she had written for the show. At the end of the first day she had gone home with a big smile on her face, thought of Charlie clouding her mind. 

I just want to know you better, know you better, know you better now

(Y/N) had wanted to know more about him. And with every new bit of information she got from him about himself, her interest only grew and her heart beat faster and faster. 

Suddenly, someone sat down next to her. She looked up, slightly startled. Charlie chuckled “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. That sounded really good.” He complimented her with a wide smile. (Y/N) felt her cheeks turning crimson. “Is it yours? That song I mean.” He asked curiously. 

(Y/N) nodded, hoping that Charlie hadn’t heard much of the lyrics. “Yeah, but it’s not finished yet. I can't seem to get any further from there.” She sighed. 

“I could help you!” The young actor offered joyfully, as he quickly took the last bite of his pizza before wiping his hands as he turned to her. 

“Uhm, you don’t have to.” (Y/N) nervously answered, feeling her face heat up further. She knew her feelings were unreciprocated and working with him on a song would only make things worse. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Charlie smiled brightly at her. 

She paused, taking in his bright smile and the sincerity within his eyes. “Okay, fine.” (Y/N) gave in. 

“Play the beginning again.” Charlie requested. (Y/N) took a deep breath, hoping the actor also won’t notice that it was about him. She started to play the song from the beginning and slowed to a stop at the same spot she did before. Charlie looked thoughtfully at her. “Hmmm, okay. So if I got this right, it’s a love song, right?” He asked her. (Y/N) nodded shyly. “Well, if you tell a story about two people meeting for the first time, why not go on from there? May I?” He pointed at the guitar. (Y/N) gave it to him relieved he didn’t catch up on her feelings for him yet. Slowly the actor started to play a few chords until he settled for a melody fitting the one she had played before.

Cause all I know is we said hello

His eyes met hers, a big smile forming on his lips.

And your eyes look like coming home

All I know is a simple name

He slowly came to a stop, unable to think of the next line. (Y/N) hoped he would just never stop singing to her. “What do you think of that?” Charlie interrupted her thoughts. 

(Y/N) cleared her throat, shaking out her thoughts. “It sounds really good.” She complimented with a smile. “Could you maybe start again and this time end with G?” She asked him. Charlie nodded and started to play and sing the same part again he had just made up.

'Cause all I know is we said hello

And your eyes look like coming home

All I know is a simple name

Everything has changed

(Y/N) sang when Charlie played the G-chord. He looked up at her surprised. “Wow, this is amazing! The line is so fitting! Everything has changed, (Y/N) you’re a genius!” He exclaimed with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. 

(Y/N) giggled, happy that Charlie liked it. “Thanks, Charlie.” She smiled brightly at him. With a nod Charlie started to play again. 

All I know was you held the door

(Y/N) suggested, still remembering when Charlie had held the big doors that led inside the massive building with all the sets inside open for her. Charlie nodded encouraging her to continue but the words that almost left her lips next were too much. Instead Charlie continued, eyes never leaving hers. 

And you'll be mine and I'll be yours

All I know since yesterday

Is everything has changed

He finished the chorus. Shocked, (Y/N) looked at him with big eyes. It was like Charlie had read her thoughts. But he couldn’t have. He was just trying to write a love song. He couldn’t feel the same about her! They just stared into each other’s eyes. A soft smile was forming on Charlie’s lips, so contagious that when it made any panic she felt go away, she had to smile herself. They were really having a moment, but all moments must come to an end. “We need you two on set again.” Kenny informed them from across the room. Charlie nodded at Kenny and rose from his spot next to her. The actor held out his hand for her. “You good to go?” He asked her. (Y/N) nodded and took his hand following him into the halls where they were filming the next scene.

Soon, it was (Y/N)’s last day on set. The scene in which her song was sung had been recorded. She said her goodbyes to everyone, one by one. “We have something for you!” Madison smiled at her. “So that you won’t forget us.” She gave (Y/N) a small box. Carefully, (Y/N) opened it. Inside was a necklace with a small pendant, which looked like a dahlia. 

Tears were forming in (Y/N)’s eyes as she looked up at the cast, all grinning widely at her. “Thank you all so much for everything!” She hugged each of them goodbye. Charlie had insisted on taking her to the airport. They slowly walked through the halls, taking their time, wanting to spend every moment they had left with each other. Slowly, (Y/N) turned to face him when they arrived at security, as far as Charlie could go with her. A small sad smile was visible on his lips. “I’m gonna miss you.” (Y/N) admitted shyly. 

Immediately she was pulled into a tight hug. “I’m gonna miss you more.” Charlie mumbled quietly into the crook of her neck. Slowly they pulled back from the hug, Charlie’s hands were still firmly situated around her waist, sending an electric jolt through her body. They looked deeply into each other’s eyes, each sparkling with a certain emotion neither could place. (Y/N) felt her heart pounding wildly as she saw his eyes flick downward. Did she just witness his gaze wander to her lips? No, that must’ve been her imagination. There was no way he liked her like that, but even still there was no denying the chemistry between them, the magnetism that pulled them toward one another. He was all she could see. (Y/N) could’ve stayed there forever with Charlie. Even as people hustled about the pair, all shouting, all rushing to catch their planes, it felt as though they were the only two people in the world. It was just them in their moment of pure bliss. All that mattered in this moment was Charlie, and him alone. She felt her heart speed up as she subconsciously found herself, just as Charlie had, leaning in closer to the actor. They were well and truly going to share a moment. But all moments must come to an end. “Flight AA73 will be boarding at gate 77 in forty-five minutes.” A voice came over the loudspeaker announcing details of her flight, effectively breaking their bubble of bliss.

“Your flight is going to depart soon, too.” He sighed, offering her a crooked smile. She nodded, a pang of sadness radiating through her chest. Slowly and reluctantly, he let her go, hands lingering on her for as long as physically possible, so she could go through security. As she neared the metal detectors (Y/N) turned around one last time to see the brunette still standing there. Her (e/c) gaze caught his. He offered her one last grin, sadness barely evident on his face as he waved. She returned the smile, returning a small wave before she disappeared from his sight. During her flight, (Y/N) tried to keep her mind busy, trying with great effort to not think about Charlie. Reading a book, watching a movie, listening to music, none of it helped. Her thoughts always returned to the brunette actor and that sweetly goofy grin of his. Every time she closed her eyes he was there, preventing her from falling asleep. 

Once (Y/N) got home, she put her suitcases in a corner before flopping down on her bed. Tiredly, she looked at her phone, which showed that she had received several messages. “Hope your flight was good and that you arrived home safely. Can’t wait to see you again!” Madi had sent her. Owen and Jeremy also had sent her messages, but one particular  message caught her eyes. 

Come back and tell me why

I'm feeling like I've missed you all this time

Her heart was pounding so quickly, it felt as though it would jump out of her chest at any moment. Did Charlie maybe feel the same way? It was hopeless even if he did, she would probably never see him again. Only if she visited him or the other way around. Such a meeting would come about in a few weeks. Until then, (Y/N) could only dream of at that moment. 

Once they finished the filming of season two, Charlie was back in Los Angeles. He immediately called her. “Hey, how have you been?” He asked her excitedly. 

“Good so far. Missing the time on set though.” She replied, glad to hear his voice again. 

“We missed you, too!” He told her, a smile tugging on his lips. “I missed you.” He added quickly after. “I actually missed you so much that I might’ve bought a ticket for you to come visit me in LA, you know, because you said you’ve never been.”

“You did what?” She asked in disbelief. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna send it to you. And...now it should be in your e-mail.” She could hear his smile through the phone. (Y/N) opened up her mailbox and sure enough, there was a message from Charlie. 

“You’re crazy!” She exclaimed. 

The boy on the other end of the line laughed. “See you in three days!” 

Los Angeles was great but spending time with Charlie was even better. (Y/N) had planned to stay at least a week so they had enough time together. Charlie first had shown her around his neighbourhood, taking her around all his old haunts. They had been to the beach together and had eaten at all of his favourite restaurants and cafes. But what she adored most about her trip was doing ordinary, usually mundane tasks together like cooking or watching a movie in the evening or even just jamming out a bit. Sometimes (Y/N) thought that this was how it would be to be in a relationship with him. “I’m going to run to the grocery store real quick.” He informed her one evening. (Y/N) was sitting on his couch scrolling through Netflix, trying to find a movie they could watch later. She nodded. “Do you need anything?” He asked her. (Y/N) shook her head. “Okay, I’m gonna hurry. Don’t do something stupid while I’m gone!” 

(Y/N) giggled softly. “Shouldn’t I saying that to you? You’re the chaotic one.” 

Charlie laughed. “Yeah yeah, I know. Be back soon.” He said while closing the door. (Y/N) huffed, not able to find a film they could watch. She decided to wait for Charlie to come back so that they could choose one together. She reached for her guitar she specifically brought to play together with Charlie. Softly she began to sing.

'Cause all I know is we said hello

And your eyes look like coming home

All I know is a simple name

Everything has changed

All I know was you held the door

And you'll be mine and I'll be yours

All I know since yesterday

Is everything has changed

Come back and tell me why

I’m feeling like I’ve missed you all this time

And meet me there tonight

Let me know that it’s not all in my mind 

When Charlie had sent her the message she couldn’t get it out of her head for days so she decided to include it in the song. (Y/N) was so engrossed that she hadn't heard the front door open. Charlie was already back and standing behind her. “Did you finish the song? I thought we wanted to finish it together! And was that the message I sent you when you went back home?” He rambled with a furrowed brow. 

(Y/N) turned to look at him with wide eyes, her cheeks taking a faint shade of red. “Charlie I - “ She began. 

The actor took a seat next to her. “Why did you put it in the song? I mean it fits the entire love story thing because it sounds like a confession but…” He trailed off as he realised what he had said, his eyes grew wide. He had the feeling that he might have just admitted how he felt towards her. His cheeks turned crimson. 

“Wait….are you - “ (Y/N) cleared her throat, which suddenly felt quite dry. “Are you saying you like me?” She asked, the hope inside of her started to grow. Maybe he did feel the same way after all. 

“No! Charlie quickly exclaimed. Suddenly (Y/N)’s eyes grew sad. “I mean...maybe…” The actor quickly back peddled. “What if I am?” He nervously rubbed his neck. 

“Well, uhm…” (Y/N) nervously fumbled with her hair “If you are then I would too…maybe… even though I don’t really have to because the entire song is one, I guess.” She shyly shrugged. 

Charlie`s eyes grew wide “Wait...are you saying the song is about me? About us?” A big smile formed on his lips. (Y/N) nodded slowly making Charlie sighed, absolutely relieved. “May I?” He pointed to the guitar. She nodded handing it to him. He took it from her and placed it on the ground. (Y/N) looked confused at him. “It would have been in the way.” Charlie explained quietly as he gently grabbed her face, pulled her close to meet him in a soft, tender kiss. 

Slowly they detached from one another, each smiling brighter than the other. (Y/N) chuckled “I can’t believe you feel the same!”. 

“Well, I thought I let you know that it’s not all in your mind.” He quoted her. 

(Y/N) laughed. “What do you think?” Charlie picked up her guitar and gave it to her. 

He reached behind him where his guitar lay and placed it in his hands. “Should we play the song again? Together?” (Y/N) nodded joyfully. She took a deep breath, still trying to register what just had happened. Charlie smiled softly at her “You good to go?”

[teamspidey4]

Wonderwall (Peter Parker x Stark!Reader) Chapter 1

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Warnings: Cuss words?

Word count: 1107

I apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes since English isn’t my first language. 

*Peters pov*

I'm putting my books in my locker and I hear Ned behind me. "Join me, and together... we'll build my new Lego Death Star." He says while he's imitating Emperor Palpatine. "What?" I ask him, confused. I glance around and hear a cheerleader say: "So lame." "No way! That's awesome. How many pieces?" I ask him. "Three thousand eight hundred and three," Ned answers proudly. "That's insane." "I know. You want to build it tonight?" He asks happily. "No, I can't tonight. I've got the Stark-" I tell him. "Mm-hmm. Stark internship." He interrupts me. "Yeah, exactly," I say while picking up my textbooks. I close my locker and start walking down the hallway with Ned. "Always got that internship." "Yeah, well, hopefully, soon it'll lead to a real job with them." "That would be so sweet." "Right?" "He'd be all, "Good job on those spreadsheets, Peter. Here's a gold coin." Ned says while he's trying to imitate Mr Stark. I give him a confused look. "I don't know how jobs work," Ned says. "That's exactly how they work." "Oh." he chuckles. "I'll knock out the basic bones of the Death Star at my place. And, and then I'll come by afterwards..." He told me but I couldn't focus anymore. y/n was walking by with her friends, smiling and laughing. She brushes her hair back. I couldn't stop staring. My eyes meet hers, she smiles at me. "...because for the most part, the difficult thing is the base of it. The top half we can knock out in two hours, tops." Ned says. I wasn't even listening anymore. "That'd be great," I say, still mesmerised by y/n.

*physics class.*

"Okay, so how do we calculate linear acceleration between points A and B?" Ms Warren asks the class. She points at Flash, who is confidently holding up his hand. "Flash." "It's the product of the sine of the angle and gravity divided by the mass." He answers proudly. "Nope." Another hand goes up, but Ms Warren calls out a student who is having difficulty focusing on the class. "Peter. Are you still with us?" The teacher asks me. I was watching a video of Spider-Man on YouTube.  "Uh... Uh... Yeah, yeah." I say even though I have no idea what she's asking. I close the laptop, revealing a diagram of a simple gravity pendulum. Now I know it. "Uh... Mass cancels out, so it's just gravity times sine." I say, she nods. "Right. See, Flash, being the fastest isn't always the best if you are wrong." Ms Warren says. The class bursts out in laughter. Flash has turned in his seat and is glaring at me. Flash whispers to me: "You're dead." I turn to glance at a clock. 11:38 a.m. When I turn back to focus on the lesson, my eyes land on y/n. She looks at me and mouths "Nice save, Parker" then winks and focuses back on the class. God, she's just perfect. Well, my concentration flew right out the window.

*Lunch*

Ned and I are sitting next to each other. y/n is standing on a ladder and she's trying to hang up a banner for homecoming. Because she's short, she struggles to hang the banner up the wall without falling. Oh my god she’s so adorable. "Did y/n get a new top? I ask Ned. "No. We've seen that before, but never with that skirt." He answers. "We should probably stop staring before it gets creepy, though," I tell him. "Too late." Michelle suddenly says. Ned and I turn our heads to see her sitting at the end of our table. "You guys are losers." She says. "But then why do you sit with us?" Ned asks her. "Because I don't have any friends." She answers him. I look back at y/n. She's laughing. I wish I'm the one to make her laugh and smile. "You should tell her," Ned says suddenly. "What? Why?" I ask him. "You love her man, she probably likes you too" "I'm not gonna do that. She would never love me. She's y/n Stark. I'm just Peter Parker. She's fucking perfect. Also Mr Stark would kill me if he found out, I mean remember what happened when he found out about Mason and her. He was her first boyfriend and he forced them to break up" I tell him. “Mason was a jerk, you knew what he did… So he was right for ending it.”

*y/ns pov*

I'm talking and laughing with my friends. I see Peter looking at me a few tables away. I smile at him and give him a small wave, his face turns red. He looks away. Flash comes and sits next to me. He puts his arm around my shoulder. "What are you doing," I ask him. "Nothing," He says back, he glares at Peter and lets me go.

*decathlon team*

"Let's move to the next question. What is the heaviest naturally-occurring element?" Liz asks our team. "Hydrogen is the lightest. That's not the question. Okay. Yeah." Charles says embarrassed. "Uranium." Abe answers. Cindy Moon, who was frantically searching the books, glares at Abe. "That is correct. Thank you, Abraham." Liz says. "Yes," Abe says while pumping his fist in the air, I chuckled. "Please open your books to page ten." She says. I hear Peter talking to Mr Harrington. "Peter, it's nationals. Is there no way you could take one weekend off?" He asks Peter. "I can't go to Washington because if Mr Stark needs me, then I have to make sure that I'm here." He says. "You've never even been in the same room as Tony Stark." Flash interrupts the conversation. "He actually has," I say. "Wait, what's happening?" Cindy asks. "Peter's not going to Washington," Sally answers Cindy's question. "No. No, no, no, no, no. No. No." "Why not?" Abe asks him. "Really? Right before nationals?" Liz asks."He already quit marching band and robotics lab." Michelle tells the whole group. Her comment made all of us turn our heads with a suspicious look on our faces. "I'm not obsessed with him. Just very observant." She quickly adds. "Come on Peter, we need you. There’s no way we can do it without you," I say to him. “I'm sorry, I can't" "Flash, you're in for Peter," Liz says. "Ooh, I don't know. I gotta check my calendar first. I got a hot date with Black Widow coming up." Flash says, clearly trying to annoy Peter. Abe rings the bell. "That is false." He says. "What did I tell you about using the bell for comedic purposes?" Mr Harrington tells him.

Note:

I wrote this chapter over a year ago (almost 2 years) so I’m sorry if it’s bad. I still hope you enjoyed it.

The first chapter wasn’t that interesting but I promise it will get better, I just want it to follow the mcu storyline.

Let me know what you think of it!

Stay safe everyone <33

Taglist:

@runawayolives    @letssee2468    @my-love-of-books   @hommyy-tommy​ @marvel-ousnesss

Let me know if you want to be tagged!!

[sailtoafarawayland]

The Daughter You Have (Not That Girl)

Summary: “Take me home,” she whispered against him, and when she pushed onto her toes and hungrily met his lips with her own, pressing every bit of the things she wasn't ready to say yet into him, he knew that she wasn't just talking about a place.

Rated: T 

(This is an edit of my very first story published over on FF way back in 2015, but new to AO3. I've corrected some grammar and fixed a few errors, but have kept it true to what my intentions were at the time. It follows "There's No Place Like Home", but continues as if neither the urn nor Marian returned to Storybrooke)

- AO3 - 

Chapter 1/1

It was a little thing, nothing more than a gentle touch on his wrist, that opened Emma's eyes fully to something she had a feeling her subconscious had been protecting her from up until that point. David and Mary Margaret were disappointed with her. The signs had been there from the beginning – they were so obvious now that she was looking back – but it had been the family dinner at Granny's that had made their feelings perfectly clear.

Things had changed for Emma after she and Hook traveled through Zelena's time portal – a lot had changed, and when they'd finally gotten back, she knew what it was to return home. This was the town where her family was, where her heart was. The entire adventure had also opened her to other possibilities, things she had been eager and uninhibited in exploring since their return.

So when her mother called to let her know they were all meeting at Granny's for dinner, it hadn't occurred to her to do anything other than show up with the person she'd been spending her evening with. After all, they'd intended to eat at some point, so even though the family dinner would shorten other activities they'd had planned, Emma knew they'd make up for the distraction later.

The scene when she and Hook entered the diner was something that tugged at her heart. Every year when she was a child, she'd wished for the same thing on her birthday – to not be alone, to have a family. To have one now and really know that they weren't going to give her up, it was something she'd never thought she could have. So it was understandable, as caught up in the emotion of it all as she was, that she didn't notice the slight fall to Mary Margaret's face when they stepped inside, or the almost imperceptible tightening of David's mouth.

Placing a light kiss on Henry's forehead as he smiled up at her, she took the empty chair alongside him, the familiar heat of Killian beside her as he pulled out the chair at her right side, the comforting weight of his hook resting easily on her leg beneath the table.

She'd smiled at him, his own bright grin contagious beneath his flushed cheeks.  

The two tables pushed together were crowded, Regina, Robin, and Roland being a natural extension of the weird, extended family they'd all fallen into, but everything felt perfect to Emma in that moment.

She was happy.

That's why it was so jarring when it happened.

They'd gone through the tedious chore of ordering food, Roland unable to decide between chicken fingers and pizza, and the conversation was light and easy. Laughing at a quiet comment Henry had made, she'd turned to share it will Killian, knowing he would enjoy the quick-witted remark. Henry had been enjoying spending quite a bit of time with the both of them lately, and clearly the pirate's verbosity had worn off on him. She'd leaned into him, the action intimate and familiar, her arm crossing his body to gently squeeze his hand as she whispered in his ear.

It was a small gesture of affection, an easy expression of her happiness, and if she hadn't happened to look across the table at the exact moment she did, she wouldn't have seen it, but she had, and she did.

Mary Margaret's quickly stifled sigh, the slight flare of David's nostrils.

In that moment, Emma didn't need to ask them if they disapproved of her relationship with Killian, to test their words and weigh them as truth or lie – she read it on their faces as easily as if they had sent her a text.

“I don't feel great,” Emma cut in, interrupting the flow of conversation as she stood abruptly, the legs of her chair stuttering against the floor. “Sorry, kid, but I've got to go. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Henry shrugged, already turning his attention to the dessert menu he'd been eyeing up. “Feel better, Mom.”

She squeezed his shoulder once, a tight smile on her face, and turned toward the door, needing to get out of the diner that was suddenly too small to hold the frustration and anger coursing beneath her skin.

Killian rose with a bit more grace than she'd been able to muster, his words charming and polite despite the concern she could read beneath them.

Emma didn't go far, simply taking the few steps she needed to get away from the glare of the diner's lights before waiting for Killian to join her, immediate relief folding over her as she was enveloped by the scent of leather and salt – the mark of the sea far too ingrained in everything he wore to ever fade. The heat from her breath clung to his jacket as she pressed herself into his embrace, needing the closeness.

“Talk to me, Swan. Are you unwell?”

She didn't want to talk.

She didn't want to do anything other than run away from the fact that her parents were far from happy about her happiness. She just wanted to wrap herself in his body, finding peace in the friction between them that always brought her to completion so perfectly. She wanted to feel the slide of his fingers, rough and calloused, over her skin, the hard chill of his hook at her back.

She was happy, and they didn't want that for her.

If she didn't soothe the wound that realization left on her heart, she wasn't sure what she would storm back in there and say in front of everyone.

“Take me home,” she whispered against him, and when she pushed onto her toes and hungrily met his lips with her own, pressing every bit of the things she wasn't ready to say yet into him, he knew that she wasn't just talking about a place.

* ~ * ~ *

As Emma lie in his arms that night, listening to the slow creaks and moaning pipes that ran behind the walls of Granny's, her thoughts traveled back through the days and weeks since their return from the Enchanted Forest. She tried to remember how her parent's had been from that first moment until now.

There had been relief etched on their faces as Emma recounted their adventure, and gratefulness when they thanked Killian for not letting her go alone and keeping her safe. They had been friendly even, for once acting as if he belonged in Storybrooke, as if he had a place there and was more than an unwanted outsider looking through the window – but apparently their good will had an expiration, and that was as soon as they realized that they weren't the only reason she'd stayed instead of running back to New York.

All that time as her relationship with Killian progressed, she hadn't noticed their disappointment in the fact that it was growing and deepening rather than fading, a one time thing – because that was what she had seen on their faces in the diner, and it had shattered her.

She burrowed closer to Killian as he held her, his face serene and relaxed in sleep. She was thankful for that, knowing that some nights his old demons haunted him more deeply than others. It warmed her heart to know that those nights were becoming farther and fewer between. She didn't want to leave him when the sun came up, would miss the strength of his arms around her, the confidence that came so easily when he was at her side, but she knew she had to talk to her parents.

She knew what she had seen, but she had to hear it from them.

* ~ * ~ *

David's face moved quickly between his easy, morning smile to surprise as the door opened, then more slowly to the grim look of resolve. For a second, Emma couldn't figure out why she'd surprised him, and then she realized it was because she'd knocked. The realization left a small ache in her chest, the significance not lost on either of them. Though she'd been spending most nights at Granny's, up until last night, this had still felt like home.

“Who is it, David?”

She heard Mary Margaret's voice chime from the other side of the loft, the soft tapping of her shoes drawing closer.

“It's Emma,” he muttered, opening the door fully and waving her inside, his movements stilted.

Mary Margaret was smiling when she finally popped into view, but Emma could see the anxiety flickering in her eyes as she stepped through the door and closed it behind her, facing the both of them with more than a hint of discomfort in her stance.

“Henry didn't stop in, did he?”

He'd been staying most nights with Regina and Robin, enjoying spending time with Roland, but sometimes he would still swing by the loft in the mornings to meet her before they went to Granny's together for hot cocoa.

“He did, but we mentioned you weren't here and he said he'd wait for you at Granny's,” her mother said. “Did you want to head over – ”

“No,” Emma rushed, cutting her off and interrupting the motion Mary Margaret was making toward the door, her hand falling back to her side. “I need to talk with the both of you, about last night.”

“Emma, if this is about Hook – ”

“It's not...well, not directly. It's about me.”

Emma watched them uncomfortably, suddenly unsure of how to begin now that she was actually standing in front of them, David with his questioning eyes, and Mary Margaret with her hands twisted together in front of her waist. She was supposed to be able to do this. She'd broken a curse, fought a dragon, stood up to Cora, and fought to bring down Zelena. She was the Savior, she was supposed to be able to do everything, including confront her parents.

A longing to have her pirate standing beside her hit, his hand resting gently on her shoulder for support, but even though she knew she needed to do this alone, the brief flash of him in her mind was enough to spur her on.

He was worth fighting for.

“I saw the way you looked at us last night,” she began, the hurt obvious in her voice, no matter how steady she tried to make it. “When I touched his hand, I looked across at you, and you guys couldn't stand to see it.”

“Emma, you have to understand, we appreciate everything Hook did to help you get back home to us. We see that he's changed, please don't think we're blind to that,” Mary Margaret sighed, her eyebrows knit with concern.

“But you still don't think he's worthy of your respect, your trust...that he's worthy of me?”

“We do respect him, Emma, we really do,” David interjected, scratching the top of his head as he met Mary Margaret's eye, “but you have to understand, we never wanted someone like him for you.”

“Someone like him?” Her voice crept up in volume, ringing with disbelief.

“You deserve better.”

“Better than someone who has come to my rescue time and time again? Better than someone who gave up his actual home for a chance – no, less than a chance even – that he might be able to save me, to save all of you? Someone better than that?”

“You're forgetting all of the other things he's done, Emma – his past. We wanted something different for you, someone like your father, Not a – ”

“Not a pirate,” David snapped, unable to keep the vitriol from his tone.

“How dare you!” There was a venomous edge to her voice now, low and quiet. “How dare you think you have any right to an opinion on this. Are you kidding me? You dropped into a magic tree – and I get it, I understand that you had to, and that it broke your hearts, but now you need to understand something...”

She paused, taking a breath as she tried to loosen the tight fists she'd balled her hands into “All of those hopes and dreams you guys had for me, the things you envisioned shaping me into the woman you wanted me to be, they didn't go through the wardrobe. It was just me, all by myself. Whatever plans you've made for my future, they're for a person who doesn't exist. They're for the daughter you wanted, not the one you've got.”

“But the daughter you've got,” she continued, “she's pretty damn happy as she is. I didn't grow up in some fairy tale. I grew up in the real world. I was abandoned, betrayed, disappointed and left behind my entire life. I've got more bruises, and scars, and flaws than most people, but because of Killian, I've learned to accept them and move on, because all of them together put me right where I am today. You might not like the rough, gritty parts of him, his past, the hook, but I do. I love every part of him, and I will not sit here and let you treat this like I'm settling, because he is everything I need, and everything I want.”

She found herself nearly breathless after her rant, fists shaking at her sides as she stared at her parents wide-eyed in front of her. She had hoped the weight on her chest would lighten once she put everything she felt out into the open, but instead she was faced with a lingering tightness that wouldn't budge, suddenly aware that they may have considered all of those things and still disapproved.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret sighed, locking eyes with David before reaching forward and taking her daughter's clenched fists in her hands. “You may have grown up here, but you were born in the Enchanted Forest, a princess and the product of true love. If you're destined to have a True Love of your own, then surely it's not someone – ”

Emma didn't give her a chance to finish her sentence, tearing her hands free and throwing the door open, the heavy wood bouncing off the wall as she stormed out without a backward glance. The resounding thump of the door falling back into place and closing behind her somehow trickled through the roar of anger thumping in her ears and she paused, pressing her forehead and hands against the cool wall down the hallway.

“You alright there, love?”

The rage she'd been feeling slipped away from her at the sound of his voice, her legs suddenly shaking and less steady than they should have been for someone who was stone cold sober. Thankfully, he was at her side the minute she turned from the wall that had been lending her a little support, his arms catching her as they sunk to the floor together, his leather jacket splayed across the rug as he knelt, arms circling around her as she tucked her head into his chest and closed her eyes.

Her heart ached in a way she hadn't expected to feel again, in the same way it had when the cop told her to turn around and she'd realized someone she'd counted on had let her down.

It ached until he whispered against her hair, soothing noises and assurances that everything would be well, the timbre of his voice bringing her peace.

“What are you doing here?” Emma whispered, wondering how he'd known to look for her at her parent's loft, and suddenly very glad they hadn't decided to follow her into the hallway. She had no idea how she'd react seeing them again so soon after what Mary Margaret had just been about to say. She needed time, and they probably did as well.

“I will admit I was adrift when I woke without you this morning, Swan,” he confided, placing another soft kiss to her hair, “but I thought perhaps you'd been craving some of that chocolate concoction you like, so I went to Granny's, wondering if that's where you'd run off to.”

“It's called hot chocolate. Did you see Henry there?”

“Aye, the lad was showing me something in a book about the stars that Belle had given him. He thought perhaps you'd gone to see if he was at the loft.”

Emma sat up quickly, leaning out of Killian's lap so she could search the stairwell below, her chest tightening painfully at the thought of Henry overhearing what had gone on with her parents.

“He's not here, Swan. I had a feeling there was something that needed addressing between you and your parents after last night.”

“How did you know?”

“I'm a pirate, love. We've a keen sense for danger – a word that would fairly describe your temperament a moment ago.”

“Where is he?”

“Ah, I sent him over to our room to retrieve the sextant I'd told him about the other day. I thought it would be useful for him to see how it works for the paper he's writing.”

“That's good,” she murmured, settling back into his lap. “I wouldn't him have wanted him to hear me that upset with his grandparents.”

“Aye, angry is what you were a moment ago, but how do you feel now, Swan?”

“Blood spectacular,” she laughed, snuffing her nose that she hadn't realized was now stuffy, her eyes burning slightly at the tears she wouldn't shed.

She felt the absence of Killian's arm around her as he reached up and scratched behind his ear, a nervous habit she thought was pretty cute.

“Well, in that case, what do you say to a change of scenery, a leisurely stroll, perhaps?”

“Your legs are numb, aren't they?”

“Aye.”

* ~ * ~ *

Days had passed since Emma confronted her parents, and still she hadn't asked him the question he'd been dreading. He had expected it right away, and she'd surprised him by not seeming the concerned in the least that may have overheard her conversation. His Swan, still managing to surprise him even after how much they'd learned of one another. Perhaps now that they'd grown closer than he had ever hoped was possible, she had no words left to hide from him.

They spent those days enjoying the company of one another and the continued absence of any threats to the town. Walks with Henry to the dock were frequent. The lad had developed a true curiosity about everything to do with the sea, and though he no longer had the Jolly with which to entertain the boy, he never regretted it – though Emma often gripped his hand more tightly whenever they passed by the spot where she had once anchored so long ago.

She'd asked him only once if he regretted it, and he'd been able to look her in the eye and speak honestly.

Never, not for a second, Emma.

Hours spent twisted among his sheets were also frequent, his fingers never tiring of their play across her body, but his Swan was quite perceptive, and he knew she felt the subtle change in his demeanor that had plagued him ever since that morning at her parent's loft.

When it had lingered for more than a week – his breath hitching in his throat as he watched her fall asleep, thinking she was too far gone to notice, she finally asked him.

“Killian, will you please tell me?”

A part of him wanted to sweep her into his arms, fingers threading through her hair as he grinned, disarming her with some witty banter about how the only thing bothering him was her state of dress, mainly that the shirt she'd donned was too much, but the smile wouldn't come to his lips, and he had no desire in his heart to lie to her.

“Your mother, Emma...what she said. Surely it's the truth.”

She stiffened against him and pulled away, the immediate distance she's placed between them striking his chest with both fear and pain, though it was the reflection of both in her eyes that injured him most. His words had hurt her, but neither could he lie. She would know, and it would pain her just the same.

“What do you mean?”

“She told you no untruths, love. You were born a princess in the Enchanted Forest, the daughter of heroes and a Savior in your own right – someone destined to have a true happy ending.”

“What I was supposed to be doesn't mean anything, you and I both know that, Killian.”

“But what if she's right?” he nearly whispered, dread thick on his tongue as his sea-blue eyes bored into her own. “What if it means everything? What if there is true love waiting for you, a man destined for you – a man who never killed because he could, nor lived solely for vengeance until it blackened his heart?”

“I believe that, Killian – ”

Her words were a frigid wave of his deepest fears washing over him, the doubts he was voicing suddenly far more substantial than when they'd haunted his dreams.

“ – a part of it, that is,” she continued, sliding closer in his bed and running her fingers through his inky, dark locks. “I believe I have a true love. The only difference, you idiot, is that I know I've already found him, so don't do this to me. Don't doubt me now when you never have before. After all the chasing, just because I finally stopped running doesn't mean it's your turn.”

The tips of her fingers stroked through his hair, returning softly along his jaw and cupping his face. He reached out for her then, twirling a strand of her golden hair around his finger, his heart leaping as he took in every curve and peak of her face as she smiled. He wanted to have her faith, to believe as she did that he could be her everything – because was certainly everything to him.

Slipping easily onto his lap, the sheets pooling around their waists, she rested her forehead against his, moving to wind her fingers in his own, her other hand firmly grasping his stump, loving every part of him. His heart ached with how much he loved her in return.

“What do you say, Killian. Can you take that leap of faith with me, that no matter what, from here on out it will always be us?”

And because she asked and he trusted her implicitly, believed her in the very core of his being, he could. His lips crashed against hers, rocking them both back onto the bed as they shared each breath, passion and love and a feeling of rightness brightening each move they made. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing to vanish any breath of space between them. Possessiveness and need slowly rolled into the slow rise of tenderness and longing, their bodies moving and melding seamlessly as they poured their commitment into each shuddering breath. When they finally broke apart, their heated bodies resting atop the sheets, he knew in his heart how true her words had been, because he could never leave this miraculous woman who'd brightened his life, who'd chosen to be his. He loved her too greatly, too deeply, and every day till his very last he would choose her.

“It will always be you,” he whispered against her neck, clinging to her as if she was the only thing keeping him afloat in an endless sea, and perhaps she was. “Always, Emma.”

Tagging: @justanother-unluckysoul @kmom0f4 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @alifeofdreams @superchocovian @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells 

[skylawrites]

A/N: Hi! I wrote this a month or two ago, based on the song "Achilles Come Down" by Gang of Youths. And it turned into this! It's Hurt/comfort. With some angst. Also I would like to mention that if any of my stories have a spelling or grammar error that I missed feel free to correct me! So I hope you enjoy!

Trigger Warning: Suicide attempt. Suicidal Thoughts. Yelling/fighting.

Davey was tired. He was tired of having to deal with this stress. The stress of everything going downhill. His family's health wasn't the best at the moment, and in a result he was being ignored. His basic needs being pushed aside because someone was worse off. He didn't want to resent his family but he didn't know how not to. How he was expected to be this perfect boy, when he too was human and made mistakes. His dad had gotten badly sick and now Davey had to work twice as hard as before to pay for the medical bills and so his family had a place to live.

    He had basically been put in charge of caring for Les because his mom was constantly at work. Which in its self was hard. How do you raise a child at age 17? He didn't even have his own life together.

     Davey was done.

     The cold wind whipped through his hair. The lights sitting the sidewalk seemed small from the edge of the building. The people looked like ants, each having a role in society's anthill. And what was Davey here for? He wanted to have a life. Be able to talk to his friends again. If he had any left, after distancing himself from them for so long.They probably hated him, didn't want anything to do with him.

    His feet were pressed against the edge. Looking below at the concrete, which he would soon hit. When he took this next step he would be gone. In a flash. No more running, no more hiding. Just gone. He wished he could say goodbye to Les one last time. But he couldn't back down now. Hopefully Les will understand. And someday grow to be a responsible, successful adult.

    Taking a deep breath and absorbing the last of the feel of New York. His home. Then he stepped off with one foot.

🗞🗞🗞

Jack and Crutchie stood in the streets. Walking to their rooftop in which they lived to settle down for the night. Jack sighed in frustration . Davey had been avoiding Jack for 2 weeks now. Why? He had tried to exchange conversation but every time Davey didn't seem to hear. He wasn't coming with the others to Jacobi's like usual. Nor had he seemed to talk to anyone else. Jack hadn't seen Davey smile in a long time. And to say the least he just missed Davey. Was it something Jack did or said? Maybe if he-

"What's that?" Crutchie asked snapping Jack out of his thoughts and back to reality. Crutchie was pointing towards the top of the building. It was hard to make out but jack saw a person. Standing dangerously close to the edge. Jack immediately understood what was going on and gasped.

"Crutchie keep heading home I'll be right there." He said urgency prominent in his voice. As he was running away he called behind him "if trouble arises go to the theatre!"

And with that Jack was off. Climbing the fire escape stair by stair, the rattling sound of metal resonating through the silent night air. When he made it to the top he shook with shock. 

    Davey started to fall. But something Jerked him back.  Something caught his body, hurling it back, Landing on top of someone with a thud. He hissed in pain.

     "What the hell dave,"

Davey would recognize the voice of Jack Kelly anywhere. But opposed to the confident, sarcastic, flirtatious tone he usually had his voice sounded weak, scared, hurt.

      Davey didn't respond. A hot tear glided down his face.

Jack placed a hand on Davey's shoulder. Looking him in the eyes.

"Why?" He whispered out.

    Davey didn't respond.

"WHY!?" Jack yelled.

     Davey couldn't look Jack in the eyes. His forced the words out of his mouth

     "Jackie I am so sorry..."

then he broke. Falling to his knees on the pavement. Sobs racking his frame.

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."

     Jack took his arms and wrapped them the other boy.

Chiding him. He stroked a hand through Davey's hair.

Tears spilled out of Jack's eyes as well.

    Davey cried until he had nothing left in him. He sat sniffling and gasping for air. He pushed away from Jack. Standing up.

     Jack stood as well. Both boys eyes were red from the crying.

     Davey turned to walk away.

"I should get going it's getting late,"

"You say that as if nothing ever happened."

Davey chuckled. Wiping his wet eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

"I guess I've got a few minutes to spare."

     Rain began to spill out of the dark clouds above. Smashing against the pavement.

     Jack looked at Davey then at the streets. He grabbed Davey by the arm. And led him down the stairs and off the roof of the building.

    As the ran became harder Jack's pace quickened. He hoped Cruthie had made it back to the rooftop alright. Just as he went to turn into an alleyway Jack ran into someone. He looked up, his eyes meeting none other than Oscar Delancy.

     "Oh my? If it isn't our favorite little newsboy." He snarled.

   Jack took a step back. Regaining his stance. Oscar raised a first. Morris's eyes caught Davey's and had a mutual moment of understanding. Morris grabbed his brothers fist before he could do any harm.

    "Let's get going. It's getting late." He said gesturing towards their apartment.

    Oscar looked pissed but didn't really have to energy to argue with Morris.

      He looked Jack in the eyes one more time and said, "don't think you're getting some special treatment Jack." Before flipping him off and leaving.

    Davey mouthed "thank you," to Morris and he nodded back.

     The rain began to come down harder. Thunder boomed. Davey and Jack exchanged a look.

      "My house is about a mile down." Davey said. "We can split paths now? Or you could come home with me?"

      Jack examined the sky. The wind was picking up speed.

      "I know a better place."

He pulled Davey about a block down until they were outside the theatre. Jack swung open the back door and Davey followed him inside.

      They stood gasping for air, clothed drenched.

       "Is that you Jack?" A voice called. As Medda appeared in front of the boys.

     "Yeah," Jack greeted her,

      She examined the boys and exclaimed "oh my, it is really coming down out there. Here take these."

      She threw 2 towels to jack and he took one a wrapped it around his shoulders and the other around Davey's. Medda looked over at Davey's tear-stained face.

     "Would you like some water dear?" She asked.

     Davey nodded. Medda turned to walk away, Jack stopped her.

      "May I get one too?"

     "Yes Jack," she called behind her.

      When she had left Davey went over to the nearest wall. He leaned and sunk to the ground in a sitting position. Plopping his face into his hands.

    Jack sat down next to him. And wrapped an arm around him in comfort.

     Davey sank into the embrace and sighed.

     "Jack, I am so sorry,"

     "Hey," Jack wiped the tears off Davey's face. "We went over this, I ain't mad."

     "I- I know but-"

     "There's no buts. I'm just happy your alive Dave."

     Davey let out a small laugh. And whispered "me too."

     Davey fiddled with his hair. Which stuck to the sides of his face. Dripping with rainwater.

     Jack noticed and took one of the towels by his side and ruffled it through Davey's hair. Davey burst out laughing. And playfully slapped Jack with the towel beside him. Jack lowered his hands placing the towel on the ground. Davey's hair was now just damp and had started to become frizzy.

     Miss Medda returned with the water a few moments later handing them over.

    They both thanked her.

     "If you boys need anything else, don't hesitate to ask alright?"

     "Alright." Jack confirmed.

     When she left again Davey leaned his head on Jack shoulder. Jacks face flushed a bright red. He rubbed soothing circles on Daveys back. Both boys sat for what seemed like hours. Before drifting off to sleep.

      Medda had come back into the room a little while later to find the boys soundly sleeping on each other's shoulders. She smiled to herself. Those boys really were made for each other.

1,396 words

A/N: If you ever feeling Suicidal please reach out. It's important for you to take care of your mental heath. And I know that times may be hard. And it may seem like it will never get better, but it will. So stay around. And find the thing that makes you want to stay.

      I hope you enjoyed that! And I should have another oneshot soon after I edit it! I hope all of you lovely humans have a wonderful day!! （＾∇＾）

- Sky ☁️

[illfoandillfie]

Easy As A-B-C

Pairing: Professor!Gwilym Lee x Reader

Summery:  Professor Lee is getting sick of marking papers, you offer an alternative. One where he doesn't need to think at all.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected sex, bimbofication (without hypnosis), oral sex (m and f receiving), hand job, light dom/sub dynamic, dom!reader, sub!Gwil, overstimulation, maybe a little bit of hair pulling

Words: 4,537

A/N: This was massively massively inspired by my love @dracoladon​ and her Drarry fic Lucid (seriously, go read it because she’s a much better writer than me and also sex dumb Draco is hhhhhhh). Reading it made me want to write more himbo fics but without all the hypnosis stuff thats in my Future Management series. Then I got talking to @peachydeacon​ about himbo!Rog which led to talking about himbo!Gwil and this fic is the result of our discussion lmao. It was also partly inspired by a post on a porn blog that popped up on my dash but I can’t link to that because tumblrs dumb. 

Also, it is a professor gwil fic but set after reader has graduated so it’s all above board lmao

Blurb Advent: Day 24

Taglist:  @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama​ @deakyclicks​ @jennyggggrrr​ @drowseoftaylor​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @queenmylovely​ @ilovequeenmorethanyou​ @johndeaconshands​ @borhapbois​ @stardust-galaxies​ @cherries-n-rocknroll​ @rogersslave​ @scorpiogemini 

Gwilym looked unreasonably hot while he was grading papers, his brow knitted, wearing a look of serious concentration made all the more noticeable by the reading glasses sliding down his nose. His loose tie and the undone top buttons of his business shirt lent him a casually dishevelled air, and that wasn’t even mentioning the way he absentmindedly twisted his pen between his fingers as he read and reread sentences he was struggling to understand, occasionally pausing to underline something or write a note in the margins. It all painted a very sexy image, the kind of serious sexy only a professor could achieve, though this sexiness was nowhere near new. You’d found his manner oddly arousing even when he’d been your professor. Of course, that had been a few years ago and well before you’d had your chance encounter in the local second hand bookstore that led you to ask him out. He’d stuttered out something about never having even thought of you as more than his student and “really I feel almost as if I’ll get in trouble for the conversation as soon as I get back to campus.” But the awkwardness soon changed when you confessed to having had a minor crush on him back in the day and having since hoped to run into him. He seemed more open to the idea of dinner with you after that and, if you were being honest, more cocky too, but cocky in a decidedly dignified and charming way. Anyway, one thing led to another and now here you were somewhere close to a year and half later and you were struggling not to stare at Gwil as he graded papers and looked professor-ally disarrayed and hot.

You knew it was something to do with the Romantic era poets that the students had to write about because he’d read a question out to you earlier to get your opinion of if it was confusingly worded. “No, I don’t think so,” “Then why in god’s name do none of my students get it?” he looked about ready to hit his head against the desk until he passed out but he returned to the topmost paper with a sigh and ruffled hair from where he’d run his hand through it. That’s when you’d started trying not to stare. A tall order when all you could think about was dragging Gwil to the bedroom and ravishing him enough to make him forget all about John Keats and poetry and the English language itself. Not that that was exactly hard. No, Gwilym had a tendency to get a little dazed and confused when you really gave it to him. Sex drunk you’d decided to call it. A transformation that you quite delighted in witnessing and causing. Gwil was sharp as a tack usually, always ready with some obscure fact or quote from literature. It was part of what made him such a good teacher, his memory for all things bookish, as well as his approachable (if a little stern) demeanour and his determination to get the best from his students. But it wasn’t hard to shut down his brain, cloud his memory and entirely befuddle him. One time you’d snuck into the bathroom at the restaurant you’d gone to for dinner and poor Gwilym had become so spaced out he’d spilt half a glass of wine in his lap and then walked into the glass door as you left, even with you leading him by the hand. You supposed that what they said about great power and responsibility was true. All the same, it was a fun power to wield and you knew that, with the right sort of attention, you could have Gwilym babbling incomprehensible gibberish with no memory of what a poem even was, which was surely something he’d appreciate right about now.

You blinked yourself from your reverie as, finally, Gwil set his glasses aside and rose from his seat, groaning as he stretched out the stiffness in his back. He rolled his neck back and forth, your eyes following, before letting his shoulders drop and moving to sit next to you on the couch. “I can’t do it anymore, I can’t read another word about Byron or I’ll loose it.” He sighed, draping an arm around your shoulders and leaning into your neck. “Byron? I remember that assignment. Everyone hated you for it,” His breath was warm against your skin as he spoke, sending a tingle down your spine, “Well if this year’s lot is anything to go by, the feeling was probably mutual,” “Mmm, I remember one girl saying she was going to shove her copy of Don Juan up your arse if she didn’t pass,” He lifted his head again and laughed, “And yet my rectum remains Byron fee and no other injuries befell me, so either I taught you enough to get by or you were all a bunch of cowards,” “Bit of both probably. And why would this year’s be any different, huh?” “I don’t know, you haven’t read any of their attempts at cohesive analysis. Some of them are just throwing out terms like allusion and anapestic and personification all willy-nilly, clearly without properly understanding them. ” “I think you’re being too harsh on them. They’re first years after all and it’s not always easy to understand all that poncy poetical bullshit. Plus, you know it all already so of course everyone else seems stupid to you,” “Maybe,” he conceded, though it seemed to take some effort. “Honestly, someone should put you in their position, see how well you go with it,” “Yeah? And who would do something like that?” Gwilym laughed as you shifted to straddle his lap, accepting the kiss you offered, “You?” “Maybe I will. Spell personification for me,” “You know it’s not high school English, right. We don’t do pop quizzes on spelling and grammar.” “I know you don’t, but this is my subject and I’m testing spelling. Besides,” you let your hand drop between you, brushing lightly over the front of his pants, “I promise it’ll be fun.” Gwil gave a half-hearted eye roll, “P-E-R-S-O-N-I-F-I-C-A-T-I-O-N, personification. D’you want me to use it in a sentence too?” You knew he’d get it right. Gwil always had been good at spelling off the top of his head which you supposed was a side effect of all his reading and the years devoted to the written word. But it was still a little annoying. Mostly because he was being a bit of a tool about the whole thing, but it didn’t help that you’d grown quite wet thinking about how you’d like to have him, like to turn him into the fucked out airhead you’d seen before. You shook your head and tutted at him as if he got it wrong. “No, that’s definitely it. I’ve just read it about a hundred times, I know I’m right. P-E-R-S-O-N-I-F-I-C-A-T-I-O-N,” he spelt it faster that time, trying to prove that you were wrong. “Try allusion for me,” “A-L-L-U-S-I-O-N,” Right again. You sighed as if you were disappointed. Gwilym raised his eyebrows but said nothing. “What about caesura?” “C-E-A-S-U-R-A,” The mistake was an easy one to make, two letters flipped around the wrong way, and you could tell he knew it was wrong as soon as he’d said it. He was surprised when you leant forward to kiss him again, cupping his jaw with one hand as you dropped the other and slowly pulled down the zip on his work pants. “But I fucked up,” he said softly, eyes still closed as you pulled away a few centimetres. You just smiled as you thought of a new word, “Anapestic,” It was another word Gwil had mentioned as seeing in his student’s essays so you knew it would be fresh in his mind and he proved as much when he spelt it, “A-N-A-P-E-S-T-I-C,” He was right of course, so you tutted and pulled your hand away from his crotch, grabbing his chin with your other and forcing him to look at you, “You can do better than that.” His features shifted at the sudden loss of contact, the look of concentration returned once more. If anything, your much closer proximity to the expression made him seem all the more hot but you resisted the urge to give in and drag him to the bedroom, curious if he’d catch onto your little game now and, equally so, to see if he’d play along, “Try Onomatopoeia.” A longer word gave him more chances to get things wrong but would his pride and his brain allow that? Apparently so. “O-N-O-M-” Gwil paused and thought for a second, his eyes narrowed as his looked at you, “O-N-O-M-A-T-O-P-I-A,” the last three letters were said with such deliberate diction that you knew he’d figured it out. “Good boy,” you said, letting your hands slip inside his undone pants to massage his dick. His hips jolted at the contact and he let his hands fall to your arse, squeezing. “What about, dactyl?” His reply was instant, unthinking, and totally correct, “D-A-C-T-Y-L,” You clicked your tongue condescendingly as you once again removed your hands from him. “Fuck,” “Well that’s what happens when you get things wrong, honey, and such an easy one too,” “I didn’t get it wro- fine, give me another,” You smiled, unable to hide how delighted you were that he was interested in following your rules, even if it was just his competitive streak rearing its head to show that he could out smart you, “Assonance,” Gwilym spelt the word slowly and carefully, making sure to only say one ‘s’ and to leave off the ‘e’. And you made sure to reward him for it, shuffling backwards on his lap so you could shimmy his pants down his thighs and wrap your hand around his cock. He raised an eyebrow at you but otherwise made no comment as he leant back in his seat to enjoy the attention. “Romanticism,” Once again Gwilym was careful with his spelling, intentionally replacing the ‘c’ with a double ‘s’ but that was the kind of behaviour you wanted to encourage so you kept stroking him off, twisting your wrist, dragging your thumb over his flushed tip. It must have felt good with the way he was sighing, shifting his shoulders as if to move his whole body closer to yours. “So clever baby, what about,” you paused, dredging up memories of poetry analysis and the words you used to have burned into your brain but which you’d not had much use for recently, “Enjambment” “Ummm, E-N,” Gwil hummed as you leant over him and let a trail of spit drip onto his cock, using your hand to spread it over his length, “Enjamb-ment, uh, E-N-J-A- no E, no A, M-E-N-T,” You leant into his ear and spoke softly, “That’s right, being so good for me, so clever. What should I do next though? Ride you? Or maybe suck you off? Or just keep doing this?” “Uh,” Gwilym shook his head a little as if to clear it, “mouth? Please?” “Of course, baby. If you can spell dissonance for me.” You were quietly confident that he’d get the spelling wrong, already noticing the first sign of his impending brainlessness, extra filler words where he’d normally not need them. It was funny though, usually he wouldn’t reach that stage until he was much closer to nutting. “D-I-S” he rushed through the first three letters and then stopped, biting his lip, “T-um, A-N-E-N-C-E.” You were sure the errors in that word were less intentional than the previous few and, as promised, slipped off his lap and settled yourself between his legs, pulling his pants off so he could spread them wider for you. You held eye contact as you let your tongue trail along the underside of his cock, tracing along a vein, though you couldn’t help but smile as he groaned above you. “Can you spell Decasyllable for me?” you asked before closing your lips around the head of his cock. “What? Oh, um, D-E-C-K- fuck,” he broke off as you swirled your tongue around his tip. “Fuck’s not a letter, baby,” you sank down on him again, bobbing a little lower. “I know, um, Deck-syllable, D-E-C-K-A-S-Y-B-L-E, I think. Is that right?” In answer you hummed and took him a little deeper, pushing his shirt up towards his chest. Gwilym took the hint and pulled it off before he grabbed your hair, leaning his head against the back of the couch. For a moment you just focused on sucking him off, listening to his shallow breathing and whiny groans. But you weren’t finished with your game yet.

“Epigraph?” you asked before bobbing down on him again, pushing yourself to take him deeper still. Gwilym remained silent as you gagged and pulled back from him again to breath freely. “Well?” “What did you say?” “Epigraph. Can you spell that?” He nodded as you resumed your bobbing, his hand grabbing at your hair, “E-P-P-E-G-R-A-F-F.” You hummed around him and his hips bucked up, pushing him further down your throat for a second. “No, don’t stop,” he whined under his breath as once again you let him fall from between your lips. “Sorry baby,” you wrapped your hand around his base and switched back to jerking him off, “you’re so hard though and I know you want to earn your orgasm like a good boy,” Gwilym nodded. “Okay, so spell meter,” “M- oh, I don’t know,” “You do know, baby, you just gotta try. Meter,” He scrunched his face up in thought, “M-E-E-T-R,” “See, I said you knew it, and you did it so well!” Gwilym gave you a dopey smile, looking proud at your praise, “I did?” His mouth dropped open with the movement of your hand. “Of course baby! You got it completely right because you’re so clever. What about sonnet, do you think you can do that one for me?” He nodded enthusiastically, “S-N-E-T,” “Very good! Okay, three more and I’ll let you cum,” “Okay!” “Okay, what about,” you thought for a moment, watching your hand pumping over his shaft as you trailed your fingernails lightly over his thigh, “Spell rhyme,” “Ummm,” Gwilym bit his lip in thought, soft grunting noises rising in his throat in time with your strokes. “It’s a bit of a tricky one,” “Yeah.” “And it’s hard to concentrate isn’t it?” “Mmhmm, so hard to con-ten-tate,” he thought for a little longer as you slowed your hand, “rrr- R-I-M,” “So clever baby! Okay canto,” “Oh! Ummm,” Gwilym pouted and whined as you unexpectedly drew the tip of your tongue around his head, “I don’ know,” “No?” He shook his head, eyebrows furrowed. “Okay what about, poem?” Gwilym seemed to have reached the last dregs of his knowledge, grunting in frustration as he shook his head again.” “You sure you don’t know?” He bucked his hips up into your hand as he shook his head again. “Alright, I’ll give you an easy one then. Spell your name for me, spell Gwilym,” Gwil’s eyes lit up at the suggestion but his face quickly slipped into a frown again, the expression getting more pronounced with every passing second he didn’t say anything. He sought out your face, his eyes brimming with frustrated tears, “I don’t…” his fists balled up as he looked to you for help. “You don’t remember?” He shook his head once more, a tear shaking loose and rolling down his cheek, “you said it was easy.” “It’s okay if you don’t know,” “Really?” he sniffled. “Of course it’s okay. You’re not supposed to know things.” “I’m not?” “Awww, of course not baby. That’s why I’m here, to know things, and you’re just here to make me happy.” Gwilym sighed and leaned back against the couch, smiling again. “Do you want to give it a try for me?” “Umm,” he whined as you slowed your strokes “It would make me very happy,” “Okay, umm…G? L? ummmm, M?” “You’re so clever, baby!” Gwilym giggled proudly and grinned at you as you adjusted your grip on his cock. “You’re my good, smart boy, aren’t you baby?” “Mmhmm,” he bucked his hips towards you as you took him into your mouth again. “Feels go-od,” he mumbled, almost panting with how close he was. You dragged the hand that rested on his thigh up to cup his balls as you sucked on his tip until he moaned and came, spilling his seed over your tongue.

You kept working your hand along his length, even after you’d pulled your mouth from him. “Was that a good orgasm baby? Did it make you feel good?” He nodded, pouting a little as you kept wanking him, “good oggsam,” It took all your effort not to laugh at that, biting on the inside of your cheek to keep from letting so much as a chuckle slip. Very few things delighted you as much as when Gwil forgot how to talk properly. “You know,” you said as you finally let his cock free, “sometimes when people have orgasms they feel euphoric. Do you feel euphoric?” “Mmhmm, you-porik.” “Clever boy. Do you want to help me feel euphoric?” “How?” “With your mouth,” “Oh! Okay!” You braced yourself against his knees as you stood, leaning forward to give Gwil a small kiss on the lips. He closed his eyes and smiled up at you contentedly as you shimmied out of your own clothes, dropping them all to the floor. “You going to let me lie down?” you asked, tapping Gwil on the shoulder. He looked around confusedly for a moment before his eyes settled on you, growing wider as he realised how naked you were. Without warning he surged forward, his hands grabbing your arse as he nuzzled his face in the valley between your breasts. If it were up to Gwil he would have stayed there all day but you had need for him elsewhere so you yanked his head back by his hair, earning a small noise of displeasure. “Don’t complain, baby. You want to make me feel euphoric, right?” “Mmhmm,” he hummed earnestly. “And how do you think you could do that?” “I don’t know,” “Maybe, cunnilingus?” “cun-un-un-un-gus,” “Exactly,” you directed his gaze down to your pussy, failing to hide your amused grin. But he was too far gone to notice, happily slipping to his knees in front of you. Telling him to wait for a second, you climbed onto the couch and spread your legs, beckoning him between them once you were comfortable.

He hadn’t been able to say the word but that didn’t mean he wasn’t skilled at the act. A string of soft hums and throaty sounds rose to your lips as he licked your cunt, the scratchy sensation of his beard only amplifying the soft, wet, warmth of his tongue.   “Can you, oh, can you spell poem for me baby?” Gwilym hummed and then started naming letters, his mouth still pressed against your cunt as if he didn’t realise he couldn’t talk and suck at the same time. You didn’t bother to stop him when he said too many letters or correct him when all of them were wrong. You just let his breath wash over you, his tongue flicking against your clit with each new letter, eliciting longer moans and sighs from you. “Fuck Gwil,” you panted, “keep going,” “Keep going,” he repeated, his voice muffled as he dragged his tongue all the way down your slit and then back up again, making you whine. You jolted when he reached your clit again and pressed against his head, keeping him close to you, your other hand trailing up your chest to tweak your nipples and knead your breasts. Occasionally you’d give him an instruction – “faster please,” or “do that again,” or “fuck Gwil, right there,” – and he’d repeat the words back to you, softened and often a little slurred together or mispronounced, before doing as he was asked, drawing you closer to release. He was pleased whenever another groan or mewl slipped from your lips, responding to them with sounds of his own as if he were savouring a particularly delicious meal. It seemed he’d taken what you’d said about making you happy to heart, though some of his whines might have had more to do with his cock, hard again and straining to be touched as his attention remained focused on you. “I’m c-lose ba-by,” you grunted as Gwilym pressed his mouth to your lower lips, as if to give you a soft chaste kiss, only to begin shaking his head side to side, rubbing his face against your cunt. “loase,” he muttered to himself, trailing his tongue back up to your clit, making you grind your hips up into him. It was impossible to keep your mouth shut in the face of such a feeling, wantonly moaning as you felt your orgasm bubbling to the surface. Gwilym hummed against you in response to a particularly loud moan which managed to be your undoing, your knees trying to clamp shut around his head as he continued to suck at your clit.

When you calmed enough to let go of his hair and loosen your thighs from around his ears, Gwilym looked up at you. His face was shiny and wet but he seemed to have regained some of his usual awareness. His eyes weren’t quite as vacant and his smile less dopey than it had been. “Feel good?” he asked, sounding almost normal except for a slight lightness in his tone. “Very good baby,” you leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips, tasting yourself as he opened his mouth and accepted your tongue. Slowly you dropped your hand between you, finding his cock again, not quite done with your brainless toy. He grunted against your lips and bucked into your hand as you stopped his return to sense. “Isn’t this fun?” you said softly as you pulled back, holding Gwil by the chin to stop him from trying to follow. “Yeah, fun,” a smile slowly tugging at his lips, “what is?” “Not needing to think, baby,” “Oh! Yes,” he laughed. “You’re too pretty to have a brain anyway, aren’t you? Much better off letting it leak out of your head,” “Mmhmm, much,” “And do you know what good, dumb boys get?” “No?” “They get fucked. Would you like that?” “Yes yes yes,” “Alright, lie back for me,” you chuckled, giving his cock a final stroke. Gwilym settled on the carpet on his back, grinning as you straddled his lap. Silently he held out his hand, all but two of his fingers folded against his palm. “No, I don’t need your fingers sweetie,” you said, giving the tips of his two fingers a light kiss, “as dextrous as they are and as much as I enjoy them, I think I’m okay skipping straight to your cock,” He nodded, letting you place his hand down on the floor again. You watched his face as you slowly sank down onto him, once again the picture of cunt drunk bliss with glazed eyes and his lip between his teeth. He smiled as you leaned down to kiss him, rolling your hips against his slowly. As you tongues entwined again, Gwilym framed your waist with his hands, slowly dragging them up your sides and onto your chest. He cupped each of your breasts in one of his palms, squeezing softly as you rocked forward and back. “Better than Byron isn’t this?” you asked, pushing yourself up a bit, but not so far you couldn’t kiss him again. “Wha’s Byron?” You laughed, “Y’know I think this might be the dumbest I’ve seen you. Can’t believe all it took was a rigged spelling test. He obviously didn’t understand, staring blankly back at you.

What he did understand was that you were moving further away from him and he whined as you pushed yourself to sit higher again, bracing your hands on his chest as you used your knees to raise and lower yourself. It still wasn’t enough though so you shifted again before too long, placing a hand behind you to grab Gwil’s leg. You leant back on it changing the angle of Gwilym’s cock, and felt his hands drop from your chest, no longer able to reach as easily. They came to rest on your leg, his fingertips digging into your skin as you rode him, keening as you felt the start of your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. “Fuck Gwil, fill me so well, feels so good,” “My dex-ik-tus cock?” You couldn’t help but laugh, taken by surprise at his misunderstanding and mispronunciation of dextrous, but you nodded in agreement too, repeating your sentiments about how good it felt. “Wanna make me feel even better?” “How?” You sat forward again and reached for his hand, pulling it to your clit. Gwilym took the hint, messily rubbing as you bounced on his cock, but his whines and moans only grew as you rode him. “You’re close?” “Mmhmm,” You were on the verge of asking if he could hold it when he came with a groan, pulsing inside you. But you didn’t stop. “I’m close too, baby, so I’m gonna keep fucking you, okay?” He nodded, eyes fixed on you. “Good boy.” You panted, grabbing his wrist to hold his hand at your clit and adjusting your rhythm. Each time you sank back down onto him you did it harder, slamming his cock into you as deep as you could manage, groaning with each one. Your orgasm was frustratingly close but Gwilym was becoming steadily more sensitive as his subsided, wincing more with each of your thrusts. The winces turned to whimpers which turned to whines as you whispered that you were so close. “Almost baby, almost,” “Please. Hur’s,” “Nearly, just. One. More,” you threw your head back with a moan as you finally found your release, Gwil whining when you pulsed around him, a fresh tear running from the corner of his eye onto the carpet as he squirmed under you.

“Sorry, baby,” you said softly as you carefully dismounted him. He hummed as you kissed him again, leaving an extra kiss against the tip of his nose. “Did so well, such a good boy for me,” “Yeah?” “Mmhmm, so good,” He gave you a slightly watery smile and let you pull him into a cuddle, sighing contentedly when you brushed your fingers through his hair. You stayed like that for a while, knowing that later you’d regret lying on the floor for so long but unable to find the energy to move or the willpower to tell Gwilym you had to let him go. He gradually lost the fucked out expression, becoming more aware of his surroundings and more capable of clear speech. “How are you feeling?” you asked when you realised he’d blinked away the last of his sex drunk vacancy. “Better than before. Little tired but much more relaxed and very satisfied. And, before you ask, yes that’s satisfied and yes I can spell it if you want,” “I believe you.”

[nneogram]

think about it — part one. get laid!

pairing: jaehyun x reader (f)

genre: enemies to lovers!au, college!au, fluff

word count: 8.4k

warnings: language, mentions of sex but not really (oc keeps being told to get laid “emotionally” idk), jungwoo gets scolded about the importance of consent, jungwoo’s in a frat but not really but yes really, quick reminiscent phone call w/ bestie jungkook, oc has unhealthy studying habits but dw it gradually gets better from here

a/n: i’ll say it for all of us - FINALLY, an update on here. this is result of my own college shenanigans, stories from my friends, and far too many fantasies whilst in quarantine. jeni needs to lay off the k-dramas, sheesh. i’d also like to note that this is unedited! there may be a few grammar/spelling mistakes.

▸ playlist (to be linked later)

Your roommate claims that you need to, in the simplest terms, “Get laid.” You are vehemently against this proposal, despite her insistence and clarification.

“Emotionally. You need to get laid emotionally, Y/N,” Megan whines. That’s all she can do from where she is sitting, tucked safely away beneath the blankets on her bed. It’s cocoon-like, she’s explained to you before, “like being in the womb.” Safe. Secure. Warm. You think that if that was her cocoon, then Megan would emerge a butterfly. If you were in her place? You would emerge a moth.

“I don’t think any getting laid needs to be done, regardless of if it’s emotional or not.” You take another flashcard from your prepared deck. Strong Acids. HCl, HBr, HI… HClO4? A hiss leaves your lips when you flip the card over to see the answer. You were missing two more acids. You reluctantly place the card into the pile to review again, which sat next to a much smaller pile of correct cards. The goal for the morning was to move all the cards in the “wrong” pile to the “right” pile, but considering the size difference of the two stacks, that goal would not be achieved.

Megan’s sigh pulls you from your focus. “Dude. Do you see yourself right now? I don’t think I’ve seen you doing anything other than studying for the past two weeks. I’m going to ace this chem midterm and I’m not even in chem. I’m not even a STEM major.”

You frown. “Sorry. Was I being too loud? I can go-”

“No, don’t worry about me. This is about you. I’m concerned for you - you’ve been cooped up more these two weeks than you were in the entirety of fall quarter. Have you taken a break recently?”

“I slept for eight hours straight, I think that’s a good enough break?”

“No, like a real break. Away from studies and school and just doing something… I dunno, fun?”

You shake your head. The past few weeks had been nothing but relentless studying. In an effort to maintain your pristine GPA, you shoved aside what little downtime you allotted yourself in fall quarter to focus on school. It was the least you could do, considering that you were on track to apply to medical school at the end of your undergraduate career. You were only in your first year, so all of the other requirements for med school - clinic, shadowing, research, the works - were inapplicable for the time being. There wasn’t much to get you ahead other than your 4.0.

Megan knows this, but she also knows that you have little to no social life outside of the bare minimum. It’s an unspoken truth that the two of you being assigned as roommates was a blessing in disguise: your studious tendencies help motivate Megan to stay on task while Megan’s more laidback nature reminds you to take a breather sometimes. 

This was one of those times.

“I’m telling you,” Megan crawls over to the edge of her bed to get closer, “You should relax a bit. Just a teeny, tiny bit. Have some fun, live out your first year of college! Make some art, go to the gym, I dunno, step out of your comfort zone. Get laid!”

“You say that last one as if talking from experience,” you tease. 

What was the charge on sulfide again? Fuck, it was two minus. Another card goes into the “wrong” pile.

Megan scoffs. “Please. I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and that was in middle school. The most we did was hold hands. Besides, we don’t need men… I just want one.” She mumbles this last part as an afterthought before returning her focus to you. “I think getting a boyfriend would be a great distraction for you.”

You gawk at your roommate, eyes flitting from her to your toppling stack of incorrectly answered cards and back to her. “Do you see this? I don’t need any distractions right now.”

“No, no, I - fuck. I got that all wrong, didn’t I.” Megan facepalms. “What I mean is maybe you should befriend some people, or find some kind of emotional outlet. As much as I pride myself on being your source of positivity, I’m not around all the time to tell you to take a break and relax. You tend to be hard on yourself, y’know?”

Your gaze once again travels to your flashcards, their amount of use prominent in the worn-down corners and smudged ink. “I guess…”

There’s a smile of satisfaction on Megan’s face. “Think about it,” she concludes, then crawls back to her cocoon of blankets to take a nap.

--

The gloom of the rainy weather hits most forcefully in January. With the merriment of the holiday season behind you, it seems there is nothing ahead but cold, and rain, and emptiness. Only so many mugs of hot chocolate could keep your heart warm, and it wasn’t even the good type of hot chocolate - it was the powdery stuff that you mixed in with your lukewarm water because the water kettle you brought with you to the dorm was buggy and never fully heated up a pot of water. 

Yeah, you could buy yourself a cup of cocoa from the coffee shop on campus, but as the college kid stereotype proved, you were broke. So you settle for your half-assed attempt at a comfort drink, taking extra effort to stir the dregs that tend to settle at the bottom of your styrofoam cup.

“So you need to get laid?” Jungkook’s voice crackles over the phone.

You sigh. For getting into one of the most prestigious universities in the country, Jungkook lacked the ability to draw proper conclusions from given information. He clearly hadn’t paid attention to your five minute spiel on your deteriorating motivation for life and your roommate’s unusual suggestion. “No,” you begin slowly, because if you didn’t control yourself you were going to get annoyed quickly, “I do not need to get laid.”

It’s dusk, around that time of the evening where the world slows down as the sky is painted a myriad of pinks, purples, and oranges. Even in January the sunsets in your college town never failed to astonish you. However, it’s also the time of the day when loneliness hits you most, and for a fraction of a moment you get homesick and usually end up calling someone from home. In this case, you end up contacting a close friend - though you’re beginning to question Jungkook’s title as a close friend, considering he completely missed the point of your rant.

“Well it sure sounds like it,” Jungkook refutes. There’s a loud crunching noise on the other end of the call, and you have to bring the phone away from your ear as the crackling continues. You know for a fact that Jungkook has bitten into a chip, most likely the barbecue ones he always had on hand. The audacity to snack on junk food in the middle of a conversation about your existential crisis - you sometimes wonder how you and Jungkook became friends in high school. 

Then again, you were on the other end slurping the remnants of your hot cocoa. Maybe there was something going for the two of you.

“Think about it.” You’re reminded of that afternoon when Megan said the exact same thing. “You’re unmotivated. Why? Because you’re lonely. How do we fix that? You need to get laid-”

“-Emotionally. Emotionally laid-”

“-Yeah yeah, same difference. They go hand in hand,” Jungkook brushes off. “The point still stands. When was the last time you were in a relationship?”

You hesitate to answer. “I’ve never been in a relationship,” you mumble.

“I couldn’t hear you. What?”

“I said I’ve never been in a relationship,” you repeat with a sigh.

There’s a beat of silence. “You’re kidding.”

You shake your head, momentarily forgetting this is a phone call and not an in-person conversation where Jungkook can see you. Students begin to flood the sidewalks outside of the dorms, likely the last wave of students returning for their later classes. A girl - Megan, you realize after squinting - waves at you from across the street. You wave back, gesturing to her that you’re on a call. She nods and goes on her way to the dorm. 

You return your focus to the call. “No, not kidding.”

“I’m taking that lapse of silence as you actually having to think about it.” You roll your eyes, another gesture that Jungkook cannot see. “How? You’re telling me all four years of high school you never got with someone? Not even a fling? Not even that weird ‘talking’ phase kids do these days? What have you been doing all this time?”

Your mind immediately goes back to your high school graduation. “Valedictorian, weighted GPA of 4.8, Y/N Y/L/N, attending…” You remember the smile on your face as the principal handed you your diploma. You remember the smiles on your parents’ faces, the pride and joy in their eyes. That was when you knew it had all been worth it - no one but you, your parents, and your own pure ambition fueling your fire for the four years of high school.

Maybe the closest you got to any sort of romantic relationship was… with Jungkook.

You liked Jungkook before your brain could fully process it, denying it as platonic affection for the better half of three years as he took you under his wing your freshman year. It was comforting to have someone older than you help you navigate high school, but as much as you tried you could not view Jungkook as an older brother as he so claimed to be.

Of course, nothing was ever to happen. Jeon Jungkook was a boy entirely out of your league - star student, star athlete, poster child for all things good and right in the world - but most importantly, he was your closest friend. It was this label that helped set a boundary for your affections, and your crush became more of a pastime to delve into when you wanted a break from your studies. A fantasy that would never come true.

It wasn’t until he moved away for college your senior year that your crush subsided, hitting you like some sort of epiphany when he returned for his winter break. You had been beyond elated to reunite with your friend, but when you looked in his eyes it dawned on you that the weight of his words and actions no longer affected you as much as they did in the past.

That was your only stint with romance, and you were fine with it staying that way. Yeah, it was a fruitless endeavor, but look what you got out of it: a great friend! And only at the price of three years of unnecessary emotional turmoil and relentless unrequited pining. What a bargain.

“I’ve been busy with school, mainly.” It’s an insufficient summation of your high school experience, but it got the point across. Technically, it wasn’t a lie.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of you and all - and I respect your decision to be single! Human rights and all that - but maybe it’s time for you to get into a relationship.”

You snap your fingers loudly enough to startle a group of guys walking past. You hope the grimace on your face is enough of an apology. “Oh my God, thanks Jungkook! Now that you mention it, let me just hit up one of the many young eligible bachelors pining over me, because there are so many right now.”

The feigned enthusiasm in your voice does not entertain Jungkook as much as you would have liked it to. “I’m sure there are, Y/N. There were plenty in high school.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” The playful smile you sport falls from your lips as he proceeds to dive into a list of names. 

“The one guy with the yellow hair… Yugyeom thought you were cute… Oh, Taehyung liked you too-”

“-Taehyung?” You gawk. “The Kim Taehyung. The guy two years older than you, editor of the yearbook and captain of the lacrosse team? The Kim Taehyung who was Prom King. Him?” It’s difficult to process a senior that you had regarded so highly had taken  interest in you in your lowly freshman year.

“Yeah, I know, right? I told him he was out of your league-”

“-Hey!”

“-But I said that out of jealousy. Heck, even I liked you at some point, Y/N. You’re quite a catch, just super oblivious.”

The reminder of your phone call with Jungkook consists of your disbelieving laughs and Jungkook’s reassurances that yes, that many people liked you in high school.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of people interested in you. You just have to see it for yourself first.” Oddly prophetic for someone who claims he could survive solely off of energy drinks and barbecue chips, but considering he was studying at an Ivy League, he had to have some credibility. You end the phone call possibly more confused than you had been before the conversation. Swirling the contents of your cup absentmindedly, you realize you’ve drunk all of your hot cocoa. All that is left at the bottom of your cup are the clumps of cocoa powder that hadn’t been properly stirred. The dregs. Of course.

You relay your findings to Megan the next day over a lunch of poorly cooked rice and under seasoned chicken. “Food crafted by the gods to remind us of our inferiority,” as Megan liked to call it.

She claps her hands like a seal. “So I was right!” She cheers over a mouthful of food. “You need to get laid!”

You’re a bit too late to cover her mouth, her ambiguous words now out in the open for others nearby to hear and assume the wrong thing. Glancing around, you’re relieved to find that no one seemed to notice, save for one boy at a nearby table surrounded by some of his friends. He gives you a look but you refrain from making eye contact.

“I feel like you and I heard different stories just now.” You keep your voice down. “Meg, I just found out my high school crush - debatably, my first love - liked me at some point when I liked him. Do you know how big that is?”

“Do you know how big that isn’t?” Megan shoots back. “Because nothing came out of it. You never acted on your feelings. And something tells me that even if this John Cook-”

“-His name is Jungkook, but okay-”

“-Even if he had acted on his feelings, you would never believe it.” Ouch. She really went for your lack of self-esteem right there, and that shit hurted. Regardless, she’s right, and you both know it.

“You know when we say this, we’re not trying to force you into anything you don’t want to do,” Megan clarifies. “I’m not saying you should get dicked down by the first guy who gives you attention, but wouldn’t it be nice to let someone - someone who genuinely cares for you - to let them into that dark and twisty mind of yours? God knows what’s going on up there.” She gestures to your forehead with her spoon.

Brushing aside Megan’s crude wording near the beginning, you’re at a loss for words. Unsure of how to respond, you mumble, “But there’s no one like that in my life. Other than you, that is.”

“Because you never let anyone close enough to truly know you. Just…” she pops another spoonful of rice into her mouth, “Just think about it.”

-- 

D-1 until your midterm. Nomenclature and ionic charges are now extremely familiar to you, having taken the spot from Megan as Number One Friend. And yet, you still haven’t successfully completed your flashcards.

Strong Acids. You suck in a deep breath, swerving in between groups of people as you make your way to the cafe. Walking quickly with your head down as the sure fire way of getting to any destination as quickly as possible. Okay Y/N, you got this… HCl, HBr, HI, HClO4… HNO3? You flip the card over and hiss. You were missing one more response. You truly hated it here.

The cafe is bustling with students on their laptops and scribbling away in notebooks, all likely studying for their respective exams. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans pervades the entirety of the interior, drawing you further inward until you’re standing at the cashier. 

“One tall vanilla latte, please.” You hand the girl behind the counter your money and stand aside to let the next person in line order. Once your order is called, you grab your drink - Ah, nothing like a fresh cup of capitalism to revitalize your motivation to study - and search for a place to sit. As if by the grace of God, someone leaves their seat at the barstools just as you turn around. Beautiful.

“Excuse me,” you tap the shoulder of one of the people next to the open seat. “Is this seat taken?” He shakes his head no, and you take that as your signal to sit.

You find yourself sandwiched between two young men, each immersed in their own studies. The one to your right, the one you had talked to briefly, appears to want no further interruptions, both earbuds in his ears. The one to your left never turned around to begin with, head down as he types away at his laptop. All you can make out are his broad shoulders in a brown leather jacket and a mop of strawberry blond hair. An interesting choice of hair color, but you weren’t one to judge. He’s nodding his head to some tune, and it’s only then you realize he has one earbud in. You wonder what kind of music a cute man like himself would listen to -

Get a hold of yourself, Y/N, you chastise yourself for showing sudden interest in a complete stranger. The day before your midterm at that - there was no space in your head for an unknown young man who was probably good looking, too - No! Focus. Flashcards. You fumble in your jacket pocket for your index cards.

Chemistry nomenclature, round fifty-six.

As you’re reviewing, you overhear the conversation proceeding next you with the cute guy and a girl. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” The familiar words make you think of mere moments before when you were asking the same thing.

“It isn’t, but… you can’t sit there.”

Huh? 

“I’m sorry?” The girl seems to mirror your confusion.

“You can’t sit here. I’m sorry.”

“But someone else can?”

Your flashcards go ignored as you choose to eavesdrop on the full conversation. The man stalls, looking at the girl up and down. “... Yeah, maybe.”

Trying your best to not draw attention to yourself, you turn your head in slow, languid movements to look around. Was anyone else seeing this? Hearing this? Were you the next unsuspecting victim on an episode of What Would You Do? You were half expecting a game show host to step out and introduce himself at any moment. Y/N, you’ve just been Punk’d! 

Unfortunately (or fortunately, you couldn’t decide which scenario was better), no game show host steps out from behind a curtain, and it sinks in that this guy wasn’t joking. He was intent on not letting this girl sit next to him.

“Look,” the girl runs a hand through her hair, a habit of frustration, maybe. “I really need a place to sit and work on things, and this seat is open. That, and it’s a public space. So if you’ll excuse me-”

The young man easily lifts his backpack from his chair with one hand and places it in the open seat. “There. It’s taken now. Sorry.”

The girl’s eyes widen, and you can only imagine what your face looks like right now. You’re in just as much shock as she is. 

You scoff, and this time you don’t care if he hears. And he does: the stranger finally turns around in his seat to reveal an extremely attractive face. Chiseled jawline, deep brooding eyes, dimples even when he was scowling. You freeze and your breath hitches in your throat. It’s a shame he had to go and open his mouth.

“Excuse me,” you cut in sweetly, making a point to only make eye contact with the girl. “You can sit here. I’m about to leave.”

The girl’s eyes go wide at the addition of a third party. “Oh, no, you don’t have to! Thank you so much though.”

You shove your flashcards into your backpack and stand up from the seat. “No no, I insist, it’s fine. Besides, I didn’t want to sit there anymore.” Only then do you shoot a glare at the young man. “I couldn’t focus.”

Judging by the way the girl eyes the strawberry blond next to you, you think she doesn’t want to sit there anymore, either. Nevertheless, a seat was a seat. She thanks you profusely and you head out the doors and down the path to return to the dorms. 

Naturally your mind drifts back to the stranger. Who was he to have so much pride as to deny a seat to someone he didn’t know? A seat that wasn’t his, either? The thought that people like him exist irks you.

He was so good-looking, too, your subconscious proceeds to remind you. 

But alas, a jerk was a jerk, and at the end of the day you had far more important things to worry about than an indecent stranger whom you doubt you would see again. More important things such as -

Your phone rings with an alarm notifying you of your next scheduled event: Final Review B4 Exam! You sigh. Looks like it was back to the books (and flashcards) for you for the rest of the night.

It doesn’t hit you until you crash land into your desk chair: in your anger-fueled exit from the cafe, you had completely forgotten your barely touched vanilla latte sitting at the barstool counter. At this point you’re ready to tear your hair out at the roots. You’re five dollars and one fresh cup of caffeinated capitalism short for the night’s study session. You really hated it here.

If Megan were here, she would whip you into shape real fast, shouting at you that you’re a “Bad Bitch!” or some other expletive motivation that would comfort you. Except Megan isn’t here, attending some kind of club meeting, leaving you alone in the dorm. Another sigh escapes your lips and you tilt your head back to stare at the ceiling. 

Maybe, just maybe, you needed to follow through on this whole “getting emotionally laid” thing.

--

The midterm you had so diligently studied for was a success. Inorganic Chemistry A5 didn’t know what was coming when you rolled up with your beloved flashcards - all successfully completed, mind you - ready to fight. Needless to say you were able to enter the weekend with no qualms. You now had much needed time to recuperate and as Megan had said before, to “take a break” (among other things you were not going to address anytime soon). 

Some students recovered from the trauma of frequent exams via partying, deciding it was better to be under the influence in order to get over their academic standing. Some would meet up with their friends, maybe gossip about the latest episode of the hottest reality TV show. In your case, you decide to binge watch as many k-dramas as humanly possible. While you preferably do so in the comfort of your bed, tonight Megan has taken authoritative control over the dorm room. Meaning, she had a psychology midterm the following Monday and needed to be able to focus on nothing but the role of the amygdala without the OST of whatever drama you were watching in the background. You know for a fact if you were in the room minding your own business Megan would ultimately get distracted and join you in your k-drama marathon. Thus you are thrown to the streets with nothing but the clothes on your back and your belongings stuffed into your backpack.

You take extra care to avoid the puddles forming on the sidewalks, the result of on and off rain throughout the day. There are noticeably less people outside, and you have a feeling that any building you choose to house yourself in will be quite the opposite, likely packed with students. 

After milling about campus for a few minutes, you finally settle down in the Student Community Center - a fancy name for yet another building on campus where students could lounge about and study slash socialize. As predicted, there are significantly more people crowded in the lobby area of the two-story building. Your boots squeak against the tiled floor as you make your way down an inconspicuous hallway. Tile turns to carpeting when you step into an almost empty study room. Only a handful of people are present in the room, scattered across the tables and couches. No one ever bothered to check the rooms at the very ends of the hallways - only those more dedicated to being unbothered ever made it that far - and you were grateful for this as you settled down at one of the open couches.

Hotel Del Luna is the show of choice for the evening, and you cuddle up to the armrest of the couch as you press Play. You had watched this one before, having been forced to do so with Jungkook at its release. Curse him and his admiration for IU - some of the ghost scenes kept you up at night the weeks after watching. You much preferred the more lighthearted slice-of-life k-dramas, but following your phone call with Jungkook you were drawn to the darker show. Call it nostalgia, call it an attempt to relive the happy memories of the past, call it denial of reality, whatever.

You’re two hours into your binge watch when you notice an unfamiliar presence at your side. A boy, and a breathtaking one at that. When he had joined you, you’re not sure, but you catch him glancing at your laptop screen every so often. He doesn’t stick out too much, black hair hidden beneath a black baseball cap and similarly monotone attire with a black hoodie that was definitely way too big for him. Yet no amount of nondescript clothing could cover up his impeccable bone structure. This man had a jawline and a nose bridge that were to die for, and although you haven’t made eye contact with the stranger you’re already feeling self-conscious. There’s no way in hell you’re initiating any sort of interaction with him.

But there’s no need to worry, because the stranger does it for you.

You’re on episode three when there’s a gasp from beside you. “Lee Jun-Ki!” You crane your neck to see the stranger leaning over to watch your laptop screen. The work in front of him - whatever that mess of hieroglyphs and symbols was - is completely forgotten as he scoots closer. 

It’s not until you lean a bit away from him that he realizes his actions. “Oh, sorry. I kinda needed a break from studying or else I was gonna lose it.” His ears turn a bright pink as he explains himself. “Is it okay if I watch with you?”

“Uh…” Now that your full attention is on him, you give the stranger a proper glance-over. He was indeed studying, some sort of language of shapes and numbers that was foreign to you sprawled across his notebook in a variety of colors. Other than the all black attire (which was reasonable for college - wasn’t everyone attending their own funeral during exams season?), he didn’t look too shady… “Sure.”

“Sweet.” He extends a hand to you, pulling back the ginormous sleeve that threatens to hang over his fingers. “My name’s Jungwoo.”

You tentatively take his hand. “Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N. Are you a first year?”

You nod your head, and Jungwoo smiles. “Cool. Me too.” He moves back to his side of the couch, but quickly scoots back to sit directly beside you after he has shoved all of his work into his backpack. He settles beside you on the couch, slouching down similarly to you. “Alright, let’s do this.”

You crack a smile at the boy’s unabashed boldness. He immerses himself in the episode alongside you, clear adoration in his eyes whenever IU makes an appearance on screen. “You like IU, I take it?”

Jungwoo shakes his head. “Not half as much as one of my friends. He idolizes her. I just... look at her very respectfully.”

“Me too, actually,” you confess. “My friend forced me to watch with him. I usually watch happier things. My favorite is Weightlifting Fairy.”

Jungwoo’s eyes go wide. “I love Weightlifting Fairy!” His theatrical gasp attracts the attention of the few students nearby. This newfound information seems to make something click in Jungwoo’s head, because he wiggles all the more closer to you. “You’re quickly becoming my best friend, Y/N.”

“I’m a friend?” 

“Duh. This was established when you didn’t run away from me in fear when I was quite literally looking over your shoulder. And that’s happened before with other people. Twice.” He seems to feel the need to add in the last few details, much to your amusement. “Now shush. Lemme admire IU in peace.”

--

That interaction with Jungwoo is only the first of many, many more. While you’re the type to keep to yourself and not approach others, Jungwoo was the opposite. You’re only a bit surprised when he yells out your name from across the street a few days later, sprinting towards you with unbridled excitement on his face. The last time someone was that happy to see you was when your dog greeted you after returning home for the holidays.

“Good morning, Y/N! Where you headed? I have Material Sciences in an hour. I got time, so I’ll walk with you wherever you’re going!”

Much like your first encounter, you agree with some hesitance. Jungwoo seemed to not have a bad bone in his body, no ill intentions whatsoever. It was refreshing to be in the presence of someone who wasn’t already jaded by the world. 

As promised, Jungwoo walks with you to your destination, the coffeeshop, even waiting with you in the insufferably long line. You find out that Jungwoo is the same age as you, a Mechanical Engineering major, and is a part of some sort of club that allowed him to connect with upperclassmen of different majors but with similar interests.

“It’s called Nu Kappa Tau, everyone there’s really nice! I’ll bring you with me to the next social event.”

“Nu Kappa Tau?” You test out the syllables on your tongue. “Greek? Are you in... a fraternity?”

Your tone of voice insinuates something bad, and the way Jungwoo reacts quickly tells you he has a similar stance on the Greek life in college. That similar stance being that frat boys were vermin. “No, no no no no. It’s Greek, yes, but we are definitely not a fraternity. It’s more like… a social, cultural, and academic club?”

“Jungwoo. That’s exactly what a fraternity would say to make it seem like it’s not a fraternity.”

“Okay, but in this case we’re actually not a fraternity, I promise.” He tugs on your shirt sleeve and looks at you with pleading eyes. “You should come with me to the next event. It’ll be fun, and I’ll prove to you it’s not a fraternity. Please?”

You remain silent, eyes turning to the coffeshop’s menu. Even when your gaze is somewhere else you can sense the way Jungwoo is staring you down with those puppy dog eyes of his. This was what, the second time you were talking to him, and already he wanted to go to a social event with you? “I don’t know. You’re nice and all, but I’m not the type to warm up to people easily. I’ll have to hang out with you more first. No offense.”

Most people cower at your denials, retreat to more comfortable territory where there’s no fear of rejection. Jungwoo, however, beams at you. “None taken, Miss Y/N. You know why?” He pauses for dramatic effect, quirking an eyebrow in mischief. “Because that wasn’t a no.”

A few people in line crane their necks to peer at the two of you as a resonant smack rings out in the coffeeshop. 

“Ow - Y/N - Ow!” Jungwoo rubs at his upper arm. You know you didn’t hit him hard enough to elicit this sort of dramatic reaction, but it’s what he deserves. 

“You can’t use that logic, Jungwoo,” you scold, bag poised in the air ready for another attack. “The only means of consent is a yes. Say it with me. The only means of consent is a-”

“-Yes, yes, okay! I got it, I’m sorry. I sincerely apologize.”

--

Fast forward two weeks later, and you know Jungwoo a bit too well for your liking. Following your rejection of his offer, Jungwoo goes ahead and makes it a point to see you for at least an hour a day, weekends included, in order for you to “warm up to him.” Some days, it’s lunch shared in the cafeteria between classes. Other days it’s hours upon hours of studying together in the back of the library, you and Jungwoo taking shifts napping while the other crams for their classes. 

He forces - “heavily insists” - you to share your location with him on your phones, so it’s of no surprise to you when he starts showing up outside of your lecture halls after class. It’s when he’s walking you back from your last class of the day that you find that he lives a floor above you in the same building. Of course.

Dare you say it, it’s easy having Jungwoo in your life. He walks with you everywhere, always initiates conversation, and eats as many meals as possible with you - or as many as Megan allows. 

“Hey Y/N,” your roommate greets you with a warm smile which quickly turns into a steely glare when he acknowledges the young man standing by your side. “Ahem. Jungwoo.” 

If Jungwoo was a legitimate candidate for your mission of “getting laid,” Megan would be ecstatic. However, you explain to her that Jungwoo is nothing more than a friend, and suddenly Megan thinks he’s out to take her spot as Y/N’s Best Friend (insert trademark emoji here). 

“Megan, always a pleasure,” Jungwoo croons. If he’s perturbed by your roommate’s aloof greeting, he doesn’t show it, a smile growing on his face. Jungwoo turns to you. “See you at nine?”

You nod. “See you at nine. Bye.”

“Bye.” Jungwoo waves then walks down the hallway to the stairs. You wait until he’s out of sight to turn back to Megan, who has one eyebrow raised.

“What’s going on at nine?” She questions.

A defeated grin makes its way onto your lips. As much as you had been dreading what was to come, you couldn’t deny the excitement building up within you at the thought of something… new, for once in your life. “I’m going to my first party.”

--

Jungwoo, as promised, picks you up from your dorm room later that evening. He texts you an ominous message of i’m outside ur dorm lol for you to find him in the driver’s seat of a car far too expensive for any broke college student to own.

Hesitantly, you hop into the passenger seat and gingerly close the door. You’re not sure who he borrowed this from - or maybe it was a rental? - but you wanted to make sure you took no part in any damage fees he’d pay later. “I thought first years couldn’t have cars on campus.”

“I know. I’m a rule breaker, Y/N. I can’t be stopped… And maybe I borrowed it from a friend.”

Jungwoo insists on manning the aux, which you oblige to as you don’t trust your music taste to be liked by others. Something about the artist name Sergio Rachmaninov didn’t always hit well with the young folk these days. The queue starts up as he pulls out of the parking lot, a bass-boosted R&B song filling the expanse of the lush interior. 

“I’m going to warn you, this music queue is all over the place.” All over the place is correct, because after the R&B song finishes a ballad comes on, followed promptly by the song “Good Time” by Owl City. It’s a good song, a tolerable one, but after the second run, and third run, and even a fourth run you can’t help but wonder if the queue is glitching.

“Jungwoo.” He grunts in response. “Did you mean to put this song on loop?”

He shrugs. “What can I say? It helps me focus.”

You’re really questioning the sanity of the man behind the wheel.

Four and a half plays of “Good Time” (or fifteen minutes) later, you and Jungwoo arrive at your destination.

You audibly gulp. “Jungwoo. You are so in a frat.”

“No I’m not!” The man whines. “I swear!”

You and Jungwoo must not be looking at the same house, because the one you’re looking at is nothing less than a mansion: two stories, covering a wide expanse of vivid green lawn, with pillars on either side of the double-door front entry. Windows line the top and bottom floors, and hedges line the cobblestone walkway in the front. It looks like something out of a Southern period drama with the Victorian, colonial style architecture.

“You sure?” You can’t break your gaze away from the three enormous Greek letters placed above the entryway. “‘Cause no normal house emblazons the symbols of their group name across the front like that.”

As soon as you step foot in the door, you regret your decision to come. “Kim, I think I left something in the car-” 

You’re rudely interrupted by Jungwoo swinging an arm over your shoulder a bit too harshly. 

“Relax,” he reassures you. “My friends don’t bite. Only I do that.” You’re given no time to question that statement before he leads you further into the house.

If there’s one thing you can count on with Jungwoo, it’s his ability to socialize. It seems he knows everyone in the house, proven to you by the way he either nods his head or does a handshake with every individual present. He leads you to the kitchen where two guys are conversing, one looking like an overgrown man child and the other looking like… well, an actual child.

“Hey, look who finally decided to show up,” the much taller boy croons. “And he brought a friend.”

“Johnny, this is Y/N. Y/N, Johnny. He’s in his fourth year.” You shake hands with Johnny, who grins at you. He seems nice, other than the fact that he continues to stare at you through the duration of the handshake. Perplexed, you refuse to break his gaze.

Johnny is the first to look away, turning immediately to Jungwoo. “Oh, I like her. No one has yet to win my staring contest this year, other than you, Y/N. Congratulations.”

You force a laugh. “Thanks?”

Jungwoo steers you to the second boy, this one noticeably shorter - or was he still tall? Anyone standing next to Johnny seemed to be dwarfed in his presence - with dyed blond hair. He has a cap over his head and circle glasses, and you can’t help but think he looks awfully young to be at a frat-but-not-really house party.

“And this is Mark. He’s a fellow first year, but he’s our baby.” Jungwoo coos the last word, making Mark huff. Lowering his voice to a stage whisper, Jungwoo explains, “He was born in 1999, so we have a good year on him.”

You click your tongue. Ah, that explains why he looks so young. You deem Mark to be far more approachable than Johnny and shake the young boy’s hand eagerly.

“Where’s Peaches?” Jungwoo asks Johnny. The older boy shrugs. 

“I dunno. Not my problem.”

“Oh, I don’t think Jaehyun’s coming,” Mark cuts in. “Texted me saying something came up. Something about a paper due. Wait. Didn’t you take his car?” He points to Jungwoo, who shrugs with a look of Whoops, sorry on his face.

Johnny groans. “Oh, shoot. That’s right. We have a paper due tomorrow morning.” As quickly as the realization hits him, the worry is gone. “Eh. It’ll be fine.”

The three boys converse a bit longer, exchanging pleasantries and whatnot, before you and Jungwoo make your departure. The most that comes out of your mouth are feeble courtesy laughs and the occasional sarcastic quip to keep Jungwoo’s chaotic energy at bay. You wait until Jungwoo’s led you away to voice your thoughts. “What kind of name is Peaches?” You repeat.

“Right. One of the upperclassmen got the nickname because he smelled like them his first day of recruitment. Apparently he lives near a peach tree orchard or something. Therefore, he’s Peach Boy.”

You make a mental note of the phrase recruitment your friend uses. One day, you’ll compile a long enough list of evidence proving Nu Kappa Tau was a frat, and the word recruitment was one of them. “So what’s your nickname then?”

“Me? I’m not technically initiated yet,” - did this man use the word initiated? Yet another piece of evidence for the fraternity agenda - “but if I had to choose…” Jungwoo pauses and drums his fingers against his chin. “I’m Cheese Boy.”

You pause, letting his name sink in. The laughter bubbles up within you, threatening to spill out in a snort. It instead comes out as a strong exhale through your nose.

“Whatever, Cheese Boy,” you tease. “How much longer until I can go home?”

--

The next time you see the boys of Nu Kappa Tau is when Jungwoo drags you to yet another one of their events but a few days later. “This one’s right up your alley,” he insists. He also bribes you with the promise of buying your lunch, and the kabob food truck was on campus today, meaning you were eating well this afternoon. Making an appearance at his frat was but a small price to pay for your beloved meal of choice.

Jungwoo’s right - this event is up your alley, because you recognize the route he takes across campus. “The library?”

He nods. “NKT Study Hall.”

As you enter the building Jungwoo pulls you down an unfamiliar corridor then up a flight of stairs. An unspoken farewell is bid to your usual study spot by the second floor window as you continue up, up, up, until finally stopping at the fifth floor where no more stairs remain. You didn’t realize the library went up that high, and you probably frequented the building more than all of the boys combined - not that you knew any of the Kappa Tau boys yet.

Though they do look extremely threatening now that you’re standing in front of them.

Jungwoo brings you to stand in front of him. “Men and Mark Lee-” (“Hey!” Mark complains,) “-I introduce to you my partner in crime, Y/N.”

You give a feeble smile to the young men surrounding the table. You recognize a few of them from the party, Johnny and Mark being the only ones you can put a name to. The two wave to you and you feel a little more welcomed. Aside from the duo, everyone else is unfamiliar, giving you emotionless head nods and scowls.

“Y/N, you know Johnny and Mark, over there’s Lucas, and that’s Sicheng.” You nod at the two of them, who seem nice enough. The latter actually gives you a soft smile, so you consider that a win in your book. “And over at that table is Doyoung, Ten… You know what? I’ll just introduce you to everyone later. Have a seat.”

You trust your friend to guide you to the safest open seat, directly across from another empty chair at one end of the long table. Immediately you pull out your biology notebook and pens, hunkering down and getting to work without further notice. If you couldn’t feel welcomed by the boys at the table, you could at least get some decent studying done. You felt far more familiar with the speciation concepts in front of you than the actual human beings next to you. You allow your head to burrow itself closer to your notebook, dwelling in this small comfort in an environment of unfamiliarities.

The moment of peace doesn’t last long.

“Peaches!” Johnny’s bellowing voice makes you jump in your seat, your beloved biology notes neglected.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” Huh. You’ve heard that voice before. You can’t place where you know it from, but it causes a sneer to form on your face. Glancing up from your notes you can’t help the strangled gasp that leaves your lips.

It’s him. You’d recognize that faded pink hair and smugly complacent upturn of lips anywhere. That, and he’s holding a coffee cup that violently catapults you back to the incident from a few weeks ago in the coffee shop. You left your perfectly good vanilla latte behind because he made you mad, that jerk.

“Oh, Jaehyun.” Jungwoo leads the man to the open seat across from you. Pointing to you, he says, “This is Peaches - I mean, Jaehyun. Jaehyun, this is-”

“-Y/N, right?” Jaehyun interrupts with a grin. You lower your eyes at the dimple that forms when he smiles. “I believe we’ve met before.”

Jungwoo looks from your displeased state to Jaehyun’s smug smirk. “Uh, okay. Cool. Well then. I’m gonna go ahead and grab lunch, I’ll be right back.” You watch as Jungwoo beckons Johnny and Mark to join him, the only three familiar faces present at the table now leaving.

Jaehyun leans back in his chair, arms moving to rest behind his head. “Looks like it’s just the two of us.”

You weigh your options. You could recognize that the two of you have indeed met before, and try to get past your differences. Or, you could refuse to acknowledge Jaehyun’s presence a mere few feet across from you at the table and try your best to study until Jungwoo returned with your food, at which point you would then flee the scene as fast as your non-athlete self could. Only one of these outcomes enticed you, and it wasn’t the one that involved talking. 

“So, Y/N,” Jaehyun leans forward. The width of the table is enough to keep him at a safe distance from you, yet he’s still close enough to invade your personal space somehow. It’s suffocating, how whatever musky cologne he’s wearing wafts over to you - he smells nothing like peaches. “How’s your day been?”

“Fine.” You keep your eyes glued to your biology notes. Allopatric Speciation occurs when two populations of the same species become isolated from one another due to-

“Aw, just fine? That’s it?” His voice is low. With Jungwoo, Johnny, and Mark out getting food, you’ve been isolated at one end of the table with Jaehyun. Lucas and Sicheng are present as well, but both seem to be deeply immersed in their own studies. It’s just the two of you.

“Yep.” Allopatric Speciation occurs when two populations of the same species-

“C’mon, I’m sure someone like you has had at least one interesting thing happen today.”

Allopatric Speciation occurs when - Someone like you? What was that supposed to mean? You sigh, but refuse to look up from your notes. Allopatric Speciation-

“Are you a first year? I took that class last year. If you ever want notes or something-” Jaehyun jumps a little when you slam the notebook shut. Good. Serves him right.

“I don’t like you, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the end of his lips. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.”

He leans in by resting his forearms on the table, leveling his gaze with yours. “I don’t think you do.”

“You know what I think? I think you’re distracting me.”

Jungwoo comes back at the most opportune time, wielding a kabob skewer in each hand - one untouched and the other halfway eaten. “One chicken kabob for Y/N.”

Deeming the conversation with Jaehyun at its end, you stand up from your seat and grab your backpack from the table. Jaehyun fixes you with an intense gaze but remains silent. Whether he was sizing you up or not you didn’t care.

The tension is palpable at the table, and Jungwoo clears his throat. “Did I interrupt something?” 

“No,” you respond quickly. Grabbing your food from Jungwoo, you give him an apologetic smile. “Something came up. I gotta go. Sorry, Kim. See you tomorrow?”

You despise this man. You don’t even know Jaehyun - he is nothing but a familiar stranger - but you despise him. Him and his ethereal appearance. Why were the terrible ones always the ones blessed with above average looks? Why’d he have to open his mouth?

“Wait.” You do not, in fact, wait, but instead continue marching forward. It’s not until the figure stands right in front of you do you stop. It’s Jaehyun. Holding your biology notebook in the air. “Don’t want to leave anything behind. Like last time, right?”

The last few words out of his mouth have your blood boiling and your fists clenching at your sides. That explained the foreign lightness of the bag on your shoulder.

“Oh, right, the vanilla latte.” You fake a cordial laugh. “You mean the time I was so desperate to get away from your insufferable presence that I left behind a perfectly good coffee? The time when you treated that girl as if she wasn’t a human being? That time you couldn’t be a decent enough human being that you were that disrespectful to someone you didn’t even know?” 

Jaehyun stands before you with an astonished smile and a hand frozen in the air. You pluck the notebook out of his grasp and stride away before he has a chance to respond.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N,” Jaehyun calls.

“I’ll see you around my ass,” you mutter under your breath. You’re willing to go out of your way to avoid interactions with Jaehyun, no matter what it takes.

a/n 2: hope you enjoyed part one of this series! it’s been a while since i last posted a fic on here so i apologize for my rusty writing skills. part 2 is projected to be posted in one week from now, but that’s tentative. we’ll see where life takes me and if i have the capacity to post in a week from now. in the meantime: stay safe! 💕

[omoi-no-hoka]

Hello! I'm sorry if this has been asked before, but how do you become proficient at handling conversations in Japanese/handling grammar very well? I read your post on the JLPT, and it addressed issues I have been tip toe-ing around--indeed, passive actions such as listening or reading are easier than the active ones. How did you go about that? Did you write a bunch of sentences daily? Did you have a conversation partner? What would you rec. to someone who lives outside Japan? Thank you!

This is an excellent question, and one that I get asked a lot irl by Japanese people in particular. Let’s talk about gaining fluency and the ways we can go about it!

How to Gain Fluency in Japanese (and Other Languages)

Speaking Fluency versus Accuracy

Language proficiency is divided into two separate categories:

Fluency: Although there are no widely agreed-upon definitions or measures of language fluency, someone is typically said to be fluent if their use of the language appears fluid, or natural, coherent, and easy as opposed to slow, halting use. In other words, fluency is often described as the ability to produce language on demand and be understood.

Accuracy: Correctness of language use, especially grammatical correctness and word choice.

By the above definitions, a “fluent” speaker may make grammatical mistakes, but they can speak without having to stop and think too much about conjugations, word choice, etc.

An “accurate” speaker can speak with nearly zero grammatical/word choice mistakes. However, the speed of their utterances isn’t generally taken into account, so it could take an “accurate” person twice as long to articulate the same idea as a “fluent” person. 

Ideally, you need to strike a good balance between these two qualities when speaking. I have a boss, God bless him, who is 100% fluency and 0% accuracy and…man is it hard to understand what he’s saying sometimes, but he can generally get his point across just barely. I have another coworker who is 100% accuracy and takes about 3 minutes to form a sentence because he wants it to be perfect. 

How to Increase Speaking/Writing Accuracy

First, let’s talk about the easiest thing to improve, which is accuracy. It’s also (in my opinion) the least fun thing to improve, because it means grammar books and vocabulary memorization. 

You can only use a language accurately if you know what is correct and what is incorrect, and you can only learn that by studying grammar and vocabulary (or if you’re a native speaker and picked it up innately, you lucky bastard).

So here’s some things you can do to increase your accuracy:

For example, if you’re having a hard time using the passive, you need to review that part of your textbook and find some exercises to drill it into your head. 

Say the correct thing aloud. Lots. Sometimes I just walk around my apartment and narrate everything I see/do like a crazy person, but that’s good practice. 

Write example sentences using the grammar you’re struggling with and say them aloud too. 

There’s a bunch of cool apps that connect you with native speakers that can help correct you too! I used to use HelloTalk, I think. 

If you’re a creative soul, when I was studying for the JLPT, I took 1 grammar point and 5 vocabulary words from my JLPT study books and used them to write a 2-page short story about the adventures of ネギ, a stray black cat that smelled like green onions because she napped in an onion field. Then I had a Japanese friend check it over for me and mark mistakes. I hand-wrote them to improve my abysmal handwriting at the same time. It was really fun! I sometimes think about doing it again just for funsies.

When someone corrects you, don’t feel like your entire life is over and you’re a failure and you’ll never get it right haha. I’ve seen people fall into that hopeless mindset, and that’s just nonsense. It’s a good opportunity for learning and nothing more! Say the correct thing you’ve just been taught out loud, then write it down if you can. And, if possible, find a chance to use it in conversation asap.

How to Increase Speaking/Writing Fluency

Now this is the hard one. Especially for those learners who do not have native speakers nearby. 

I’m going to be dead honest with you. I started formally studying Japanese at uni, and I had a Japanese roommate/best friend since year one. I had a 4.0 GPA in my Japanese classes (and only my Japanese classes lol) because I was and still am a MEGA NERD about it. 

...But it wasn’t until I studied abroad in Japan my 4th year of uni that I gained fluency. 

There are a lot of things that can hold us back from fluency. An interesting thing I’ve noted is that Foreign Language is perhaps the only subject in which a student’s personality can directly affect their progress. To gain fluency, you have to go forth and speak, but if you are naturally a shy person, that is going to hinder you. If you are the kind of person who takes mistakes/failures poorly, you will be less likely to take risks and try to say harder sentences. In contrast, you can get full marks in math regardless of the above personality traits. 

I’m not saying that you have to be an outgoing explosion of a human being in order to gain fluency. But what I am saying is that you have to be willing to seek out conversations, and you have to be willing to take chances. Get out of your comfort zone. Use that new word you picked up the other day. Try to explain something that is difficult for you. 

My problem was that, while I lived with a native speaker who would have happily taught me anything I asked, her English proficiency was much higher than my Japanese proficiency. And when I struggled to say something in Japanese, I’d fall back onto English. And when she told me something I didn’t understand in Japanese, she’d repeat it in English instead of Japanese, because that was easier for us both. The same thing happened when I was in Japanese class as well. I always had the assurance that I could fall back on English.

But when I elected to study abroad in Japan for 3 months, I knew that this was my big chance. So on the host family form in the “other requests” area, I wrote that I specifically wanted a host family that could not speak English. I was setting fire to my crutches, and I was scared but excited to see them burn. 

By the end of my three months in Japan, I had gone from “Chotto matte kudasai” and needing a minute to form my reply, to “Okay, yeah I see that movie too and I liked the action scenes, but I didn’t care for the story little.” (I’ve underlined mistakes that I would have made in Japanese, to show you that I sacrificed some accuracy to obtain higher fluency.)

So, in short, the easiest and quickest way to increase your spoken fluency is to throw away all the crutches you can and use the language as much as possible. Every single day. Even if you’re just having an imaginary conversation with yourself! And like I said, there are a bunch of cool apps that connect you with Japanese people who want to learn English and you can do language exchanges with them. I had a lot of fun with those in the past. 

As for increasing writing fluency...well. That’s a tough question with Japanese, because I can type Japanese at like 100 wpm, but my Japanese handwriting fluency is at a 10/100. I can read and type at the level of a native Japanese high school student, but I can only write the kanji that 7 year old can write. That’s no exaggeration.

The big reason for that dichotomy is that my work is paper-free. 100% of my work is done on screen, so about the only time I have to write out something is when I’m filling out a form, which includes my name (katakana), address, and maybe occupation. 

If you want to increase your Japanese handwriting speed, just keep on writing. Write those little short stories about ネギ like I did, or find some writing prompts (I just started a side-blog with writing prompts yesterday btw) or keep a little diary. Make opportunities to write. 

How to Have Nice Handwriting in Japanese

Okay, full disclaimer: I am the absolute LAST person qualified to talk about this, because I have awful handwriting in Japanese. 

Unless you have prior experience with a different language that uses kanji, or you lack the keen eye of an artist, you will likely struggle to develop neat handwriting. 

Personally, I really like using this app called Japanese Kanji Sensei. It’s on Android (not sure about iOS), and if you pay just a few bucks you can make your own kanji sets and stuff. Anyways, it will show you how to write the characters prettily. It gives you a good frame of reference for what nice, pencil/pen-written characters (versus calligraphy characters). It has hiragana and katakana on it too!

I get a stylus and write out the characters on this app for the muscle memory, so my hands remember the sensation of writing a certain character. (The muscle memory is different if you only use your fingertip.) This muscle memory and repetition is how Japanese people learn how to internalize kanji as well. I really enjoy and recommend this app. I’m sure that there are others out there like it too.

Summary

TL;DR: Review your textbooks, take risks, use every resource available or make your own, and just have fun with it! 💗

[drwcn]

@cloudyfromoobsession​

Hi! :) 

On the topic of talking in third person when referring to yourself, it is actually quite prevalent in cdrama, especially the historical ones, but it never shows up in translation because well... it sounds really weird in English and often there is no direct translation. So most translators just do away with it. 

In modern spoken Chinese, third person speech is no longer used (in fact it would be very weird if you did), so below is only pertaining to historical or fantasy dramas.

If I could insert my personal opinion on the matter: there’s no need to use third person speech in English. Chinese third person speech is incredibly nuanced depending on context and person, and it is incredibly easy to misuse it in English. Writers end up not conveying their intentions and actually making things really awkward. As someone who is fully bilingual, I personally find that third person speech, when used in excess, makes the writing stilted. Another example is Lan Wangji’s “concise speech” which I see very often. It does not work in English. It makes him sound like he doesn’t know how to speak properly and is grammatically incorrect. Chinese is a language that is designed to be able to be shortened in certain ways and still follow all its grammatical rules. English’s syntax does not work the same way at all.  Speech is a major contributor to a fictional character’s personality. Sometimes those subtleties cannot be transposed directly from Chinese to English. To still capture the character when writing in English, each writer has different ways of doing this, but personally I like to keep Lan Wangji’s speech - for the most part - simple and concise. No complex or compound sentences but all his sentences should still obey the grammatical rules of English. 

Okay, onto third person speech, since I find it interesting and it’s like a cool language quirk. 

NOTE: below is about referring to oneself in the third person. Referring to someone else in the third person is a whole thing on its own. 

The “talking in third” person you’re probably referring to stems from the episode when LWJ got drunk with One Braincell Trio, and the next morning he went to his uncle and said 忘机知错 or 忘机有错. I can’t remember specifically which one he said, but essentially it means “Wangji knows his faults” or  “Wangji is at fault”. Using one’s own name to speak in third person is actually less common than some of the other examples I will explain below. There are many ways to speak in third person depending on the situation, your position and the person you are talking to.

Before I do that, I’d that to point out that the pronoun “I” 我 is seen as rude or not following etiquette if you use it inappropriately with people who you shouldn’t be using “I” with. For example, a girl entering the palace to serve as a maid will be trained to stop using “I” when she is speaking with nobility, royalty and anyone of higher rank than he. She will in fact be verbally corrected by her supervisor (and may even be punished)  if she used “I” inappropriately. A palace maid’s “noun” that she will use in place of “I” is nubi 奴婢. Instead of saying 我不知到 “I don’t know”, she will say  奴婢不知 “nubi does not know.” 

Notice the grammar issue that we’re presented with. Because there are no verb conjugation changes in Chinese, substituting “I” with another noun doesn’t change what happens to the verb in Chinese, but in English, you have to make conjugation changes. This makes dialogues sound even more weird in English. 

“I” can be used amongst friends, close siblings, family (with exceptions) individuals or colleagues of relatively equal ranking or (sometimes) strangers on the street. Children, especially civilian children, almost always use “I”. As a general rule, civilians mostly use “I” with each other, it’s only when they speak to someone of rank that they switch their pronoun to a "non-I” noun. Also! Chinese doesn’t differentiate between the subject ‘I’ and the object ‘me’. They are both 我 “wo”, so both “I” and “me” are affected in the same way when switching to a ‘non-I’ noun. 

So now I will list some of the “nouns” that are used in place of “I” in c-dramas. They will be listed in categories based on people’s station in life. 

It’s important to note that Chinese can and is spoken passively, especially in old speech and in dramas. You won’t get the same flack for not using “active tone” the way you do in English. In fact, using “I” or “you” in old Chinese speech actually makes it sound informal. However, this again is one of those language quirks that doesn’t translate and can’t really be transposed. When writing in English, when in doubt, always follow English’s grammatical rules and syntax practices.  

I have no degree in Chinese history or even East Asian studies. These are just some of the commonly used terms I’ve seen over many, many years of drama watching. Sometimes, drama gets it wrong, and these misconceptions will get passed to the audience, but it’s not like we’re submitting manuscripts for academic publication, so does it really matter if it’s slightly inaccurate? 

Citizens, when talking to Officials, Royalty or the Emperor: 

1) cao min 草民 - “grass” “citizen”  2) min nv 民女 - “citizen” “woman”  3) min fu 民妇 - “citizen” “married woman” 

An average jo farmer when speaking with any government official or nobility or royalty including the Emperor will use cao’min to refer to themselves. Cao’min is gender neutral, so both men and women, old or young can use it. For example: “M’lord, I didn’t kill anyone!” -> “大人，草民没有杀人!”

“min’nv” on the other hand is used exclusively by women, usually younger women, while “min’fu” is used exclusively by older married women. The context of their usage is the same as cao’min. Both married and unmarried women can use cao’min as well. (nv is a weird word isn’t it? It’s because there is literally no alphabet to make the 女 sound. The closest we can get is nu, but that’s actually another word, so pinyin uses nv to as substitution.)

Notice, all three of these nouns are actually more... “formal”, as in these are the nouns people will know to use when they are being brought before a local judiciary court, or being called to testify before the Emperor himself. In a street setting, nouns #4 and #5 are usually used. 

Sidenote: da’ren  大人 is an honorific that can be used for any government official that holds some kind of public office or police status. A citizen can use “da’ren” with officials as high as the prime minister all the way down to their local mayor or even just the guards patrolling town. A lower official refers to his superior as {Last-name-da’ren}, and a higher official ALSO refers to their subordinates (who are not close friends of his) as {Last-name da’ren}. More nuances apply but generally these are the rules. 

Worker/Trades person/Citizen, when talking to someone of higher class and wealth: 

4) xiao de 小的 - “of little”  5) xiao ren 小人 - “little” “person”

Example: Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji walks into an inn, the busboy greets them and says: Chinese:  “二位公子，[小的]是这里的小二，二位打尖还是住店？”  English: “Young masters, [xiao’de] is the busboy/waiter of this place. Would you like to take your meal here or check in for the night?” or basically “Hi! I am your waiter and I’ll be helping you today. Are we eating or checking in?” 

Adults of Scholar/Gentries Status/Martial Artists in Pugilist Society/Cultivators: 

6) zai xia 在下 - “is here” “lower”  7) wan bei 晚辈 - “later” “generation” 8) di zi 弟子 - disciple 9) lao sheng 老身 - “old” “body” 

zai xia - The thing with old Chinese speech is that it inherently is overly politely. In many many cases, you always put yourself in the lower status when speaking to a stranger of unknown status because you don’t want offend the person you don’t know. Zaixia can be used by men, women, usually not too old. If you’re a senior man or woman you usually default to 9).  Example: two cultivators who’ve never met fought off a ghoul together. After the fact, they introduce themselves. One of them says: “在下云梦江氏魏无羡， 多谢仙友相助。”  Meaning translation: “I am Wei Wuxian of the Yunmeng Jiang Clan. Thank you so much for your help.” Literal translation： “[zai’xia] Yunmeng Jiang Clan Wei Wuxian. Much thanks cultivator friend for help.”  This entire sentence contains neither ”I” nor “you”. But that’s just not... feasible to talk like that in English. 

wan bei is used in CQL. Ex: A disciple of Yunmeng Jiang may refer to themselves as wan bei when speaking to a senior of another sect. When a disciple is speaking to a senior of their own sect, they will use “di zi” (disciple). 

Family:

10). xiao xu 小婿 - “little” “son in law”  11). hai er 孩儿 - “child”  12). sun nv 孙女， sun er 孙儿 - “granddaughter” , “grandson” *there are more, but I’m use putting these up for examples*

In most families, there’s no need to refer to yourself in the third person. You’re family, just use “I”. But! In certain high society families, the rules are stricter and etiquette is everything. For example, places like Cloud Recesses with a stick up its collective butt would probably follow these rules. If Lan Wangji’s parents were still alive, he’d refer to himself as “hai er” to his parents. He would also refer to himself as “xiao xu” to Cangse and Wei Changze if they were alive. In Story of Minglan, Minglan refer to herself as “sun nv” when she’s speaking with her grandmother. 

Government Officials

13). bei zhi 卑职  14). xia guan 下官 both of these mean the same thing “subordinate”.  People use it when speaking to their superiors. Foot soldiers in the military will use 13, not 14. 

15). wei chen 微臣  {wei chen} is used SOLELY with the royal family. If you are a government official of ANY rank, when speaking to the emperor, empress, dowager empress, you must use wei chen in formal settings. To a prince or princess or a royal concubine, government official can use 14 xia guan. Using “I” in front of royalty is very disrespectful. Exceptions do apply, but this is the overarching rule. 

臣 - the word “chen” means subject. The term 君臣 refers to the special relationship of respect that exists between 君 the emperor, and 臣 the people who work on his behalf and whom he rules. 

Royalty 16). zhen 朕 - no translation This is a special pronoun used ONLY by the Emperor and he uses zhen a lot. Like, there is no need for him to be humble or whatever and avoid using pronouns. It is his “I” and he can use it as freely as he likes. 

17). ben gong 本宫 - “self” “palace”  An Empress or a concubine of higher status (ie. a Noble Consort) use this to refer to themselves when they are talking to anyone of lower rank: citizens, servants, a government official, or a lower concubine. This places them in a position of power. Everyone who they’re using ben gong with should be lower than them in ranking. Remember when I said using “I” is rude, well in this case, a noble consort will not use “I” with a servant because she is more noble them, and they not “noble enough” for her to use “I” with. If it’s her close servants, her confidants, she can and often do use “I”, as a sign of familiarity.  

18). pin qie 嫔妾, chen qie 臣妾  Lower concubines use “pin qie” and higher concubines use “chen qie” when speaking to the Emperor, Empress or Dowager Empress. The Empress uses “chen qie” when speaking to the Emperor or Dowager Empress. When chen qie or pin qie is used, the speaker is in a lower position than the person they’re speaking to. 

19). er chen 儿臣 Princes and Princesses will use “er chen” with their fathers (the Emperor). In front of their mothers (Empress or concubine) and grandmothers, they usually use “I” or 11 “hai er”. If it’s a formal situation, they will switch to “er chen”. An Emperor will also refer to himself as “er chen” when speaking to his mother the Empress Dowager. 

20). ben wang 本王 - “self” “lord/duke” An Emperor’s sons, brothers or male cousins are often qinwangs or junwangs (princes, lords, dukes). They will use “ben wang” to refer to themselves in formal settings to any one who is lower than them. In informal settings, they will use “I”. In formal setting when they’re talking to the Emperor, sons of the Emperors will use 19 “er chen”, brothers of Emperors may use “chen di” 臣弟, and cousins or more distant relatives will be simply “chen” or 15 “wei chen”. 

21). ai jia 哀家 - “sad” “family”  Empress Dowagers: literally the most respected and highest ranking person in any Chinese dynasty. She might not have any real power, but by rank she kneels to absolutely no one. No exceptions. Not even to her son who is the Emperor. He kneels to her. An Empress Dowager will use “ai jia” when she wants to be more formal, but to her family with whom she is close, she can and do use “I”. 

Lastly, Jiang Cheng gets a special mention: 

When Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen bring Wei Wuxian to Jinlintai at around ep 41, Jiang Cheng, being a total shit disturber says, “不知是那位名士大能，可否为江某引荐一番？”

Translation: “Who is this famous and talented cultivator? Could you introduce him to me?” 

But lemme break that sentence down for you. 

可否 = can or not 为 = for  江某 = Jiang “mou”  引荐一番 = make introduction. 

He does not make use of “him” “you” or “me”. In English, when speaking in the imperative mood, aka, “put the dishes in the dish washer”, it is implied that ‘you’ are the person putting the dishes in the dish washer. Similarly, the ‘him’ and ‘you’ are implied in Jiang Cheng’s sentence, and the only “pronoun” he uses when referring to himself is “jiang mou”. If Jiang Cheng had used “you” or “him” in his sentence, it would’ve been ruder. As is, his sentence was still (albeit falsely) courteous. 

The ‘third person’ speech in this context is the use of 江某 “jiang mou”. It is a fairly neutral third person noun. Unlike the above 21 examples, ‘mou’ doesn’t place a person in a position higher or lower than the person they’re talking to. They’re just saying “hey I am a person with the last name Jiang”. It is gender neutral and can be used by both men and women. It’s not limited to cultivators. Scholars can use it, nobility can use it, government officials can use it. (Your average farmer... probably doesn’t use it, because it’s just... not used.) 

So that’s it. 

There are definitely MORE nouns that are used in third person. These are some of the commonly seen ones. I hope it helps. 

Again, this word vomit I just wrote is for general interest. It is absolutely not necessary to use it when writing fics in English. When in doubt, stick to using pronouns the way we would normally. 

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Sneaking Around | Chapter Six

Aelin clicked on Rowan’s contact. want to get out of here? She made sure to keep her phone angled away from Manon, who was smirking next to her.

A moment later, he responded. I thought you’d never ask.

you’re not still pissy about me judo flipping you?

I’ve come to terms with the fact I’ll just have to get you back for it. Aelin blushed at the implications.

“What, is your sweet boyfriend sexting you?” Aelin had almost forgotten Manon was there.

“Shut up.” we’ll see about that

I’ll leave now. You come in a few minutes.

alright

You sure you remember where I live?

yeah, i think so

Aelin heard Rowan’s voice distantly saying he was off. Not wanting Manon to put it together, she started speaking. “So, you don’t mind if I ditch you?”

“And have you spend the night lusting after some dude? No thanks.”

“You’re one to talk. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve gone to gay bars as your wingwoman.”

“That was only a few times and I am grateful, but I still get to tease you. It’s my job. Shouldn’t you be leaving now?”

“So anxious to lose my delightful presence?” Manon rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m off now.”

They walked into the living room to find Rowan already gone and Vaughan on his way out. Good, that would be a little less suspicious if several people were leaving. Aedion and Lysandra had rejoined the group. Manon said, “Aelin’s headed out to her secret boyfriend’s place, so looks like I’m stuck with you losers.” Yes, Manon was very genteel.

Everyone tried to get her to spill, but Aelin just said, “See you Monday.” Then she flipped them off as she walked out the door.

The drive was short, but Aelin was jittery, desperate to get her hands on Rowan. And she had unintentionally memorized his address.

She walked up the stairs to the second floor quickly. Aelin lacked the patience for an elevator ride right now.

Upon reaching the landing, she caught sight of Rowan leaning against the wall next to his open door. “You certainly got here quickly. So eager to-”

Aelin cut him off with a hungry kiss. His lips began to move against hers and he grabbed her, pulling her into his apartment. Rowan kicked the door closed, then pinned her to it. He used one hand to lock the door and the other to unzip her jeans. She grinded against his hand, bucking her hips forward.

Rowan pulled down her jeans, waited for Aelin to step out of them, then picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. Aelin shrieked as he carried her to his bedroom.

“That’s what you get for judo flipping me.” The damned bastard was chuckling.

He tossed her on the bed, then swiftly unclothed himself. Rowan looked up to find Aelin had done the same, and was now lying seductively on his bed. She let her legs spread.

Rowan, panting now, climbed on top of her. She moaned as his hips pressed against hers. Neither one of them could get enough of the other. Both of their hands were roving accross the other’s body. Aelin’s tongue parted his lips.

Her hand drifted down to caress him, and Rowan groaned. He let Aelin push him off of her then move down to take him in her mouth. Rowan moaned Aelin’s name. Yes, she could get used to this.

-

Light was streaming through the curtained window. Aelin awoke to find Rowan’s arm around her. She was pressed into his side, fitting like a glove.

Aelin gently slid out of his grasp, then put on his shirt from the night before. It was so large, she nearly drowned in it.

Then she walked out to the kitchen. If he was going to carry her around like a sack of meat, she would feel no qualms about raiding his fridge.

Rowan walked out ten minutes later in another pair of sweatpants to find Aelin dressed in his t-shirt, devouring a bowl of cereal. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” he said sarcastically.

“Thank you, I will,” replied Aelin. “Though I’m rather disappointed to find all this health junk. You need to buy some Fruit Loops.”

Rowan smirked. “Planning on eating breakfast here often?”

Aelin blushed. “Just in case.”

Rowan poured himself a bowl of the “health junk.” “Well, I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

Aelin blinked, then smiled.

“Did you ladies really sign up for mixed martial arts?” he asked.

Aelin laughed. “Yes. Lys and I had been taking it for a while, and we convinced the others to join. And I still can’t believe you bet against me!”

“How was I supposed to know you’re a fucking ninja?”

Aelin laughed again, louder this time. “I like that almost as much as fire-breathing bitch-queen.”

“That was meant to be an insult when I came up with it.”

“That makes it even better.”

Aelin hadn’t felt so happy in a long while. They finished breakfast, then Aelin said she should leave.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Aelin asked.

“You should stay. It’s still the weekend.”

Aelin’s heart raced. “And if I were to stay, what would we be doing?”

Rowan’s sultry smile was answer enough.

-

Aelin pulled up at her apartment just past six o’clock. She had totally lost track of time, though she didn’t regret it. Rowan had spent the better part of the afternoon coaxing noises from her she didn’t even know she could make.

Upon entering, Aelin found Ansel at the table eating Chinese takeout. “I wasn’t sure you were coming back,” she said with a raised brow. “I got extra in case you did.” Ansel gestured to the other container of Chinese.

Aelin replied, “Thanks. I need to change first.” She was still wearing last night’s outfit. Again. This was becoming a habit.

When Aelin came back out in a t-shirt and yoga pants and sat at the table, Ansel just looked at her. Stared, like she was seeing deep into her soul.

“Okay, you’re going to have to stop that. It’s freaky,” Aelin stated.

Ansel sighed. “I’m working on my tell-me-all-of-your-secrets stare. Ugh, just fess up, will you?”

Aelin tried not to laugh. “No. Stop prying.”

“I know I blab a lot, but if I swear not to tell a soul, will you at least answer, like, some minor questions? I have nothing else to do with my life.”

Ansel looked so pathetic that Aelin hesitated. “If you won’t tell anyone, you may ask some things. I might not answer, though.”

Ansel immediately brightened. “Great. Okay, I’m assuming his name is a no. Mm, do you like like him?”

Aelin could only imagine if Ansel went and told the others, including Rowan, that she liked the dude. That would be humiliating. Ansel wouldn’t break her word, though. “Yes,” she answered firmly, surprising herself. She realized she did like Rowan a lot, though.

Ansel smiled. “Interesting. I can only assume he works at the office because of your secrecy, not to mention hooking up with him at an office party. Do I know him?”

Most everyone from the office went to the bar; this wasn’t a revealing question. “Probably.” Okay, definitely, but whatever.

“Is he good in bed?”

“Gods, Manon asked the same question. You perverts. Yes, he is very good in bed.” Aelin was tiring of the interrogation and also started to get nervous she might reveal something. “I’m done with the probing now. Want to watch Grease?” The two of them lived for old movies. They had seen Grease about a dozen times already. She knew the offer would be enough to get Ansel off her back.

“Sure. I’m not done with you, though.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. Then they spent the evening watching movies and gossiping about their friends. Luckily, Ansel seemed to have dropped the subject of the secret boyfriend for the night.

Yes, it could be troublesome to deal with her friends’ inclination to snoop, but she and Rowan would tell them if it got serious. Was it heading in that direction? At first Aelin had thought the attraction was purely sexual, but then they talked and laughed he made her heart flutter and Aelin wasn’t so sure anymore. The only question was whether Rowan felt the same about her.

Out of pure desperation, Aelin pulled out her phone. help im bored.

If Rowan was the type to use emojis, he surely would have sent an eye roll. He wasn’t though, and he annoyingly wouldn’t stop using correct grammar and punctuation. Prick. Only a minute after Aelin texted him, Rowan replied, What’s Ansel doing? Is she still at Fenrys’?

she’s currently laying on my lap sound asleep. not before finishing the fried rice though

Poor thing. Aelin could feel the sarcasm oozing out of that text. What do you want me to do about it?

be entertaining. tell a joke or something. im lonely

You’re a very needy person.

i am not

You certainly were today. Aelin blushed at that.

tell me rowan whitethorn is not sending me dirty texts! i should block you or something

Needy and overdramatic. No surprise there.

you need to work on your flattery skills

Fine, then, Your Majesty. You are the most genteel, sensitive, kind, and respectful person I have ever met. Please accept my sincerest apologies. Aelin snorted at this.

*sigh* you could at least try to say something accurate like awesome or fascinating or something. we all know im not nice

How true.

stop bullying me. ask me on a date

Is that an order?

yes

Would you like to go on a date with me?

hmm... i’ll have to think about it

Why do I even bother?

because im irresistible

I’m going to sleep now. Work tomorrow. You should too.

night

Goodnight.

Rowan was right; she should get some sleep. Even if she wanted to text him all night.

“Ansel, up.” Aelin poked her on the forehead. “I can’t get up with you snoring on my lap.”

Ansel was nearly impossible to rouse. Aelin settled the matter by shoving her off onto the floor, which earned her a severe scolding.

In bed, Aelin couldn’t stop thinking about Rowan. It got to the point where she couldn’t help but shove her hand under the waistband of her yoga pants, getting off with the help of the thought of his capable fingers.

Great. Now Aelin was just praying she wasn’t going to start blushing and batting her eyelashes at him. She wondered if he was thinking about her as he touched himself. Probably not. He was probably asleep, untroubled by thoughts of her.

Rowan Whitethorn was distracting Aelin from... well... everything. Maybe if she tried thinking about when they hated each other. Or when she judo flipped him. Yes, think of beating him up.

How was Aelin going to handle work tomorrow, being able to see him but not touch him? Rowan Whitethorn. Damn him.

[whatshername-please]

Out of the Water - Chapter VI

Synopsis: You were very proud to be a mermaid, thank you very much. You didn't want to be where the people were. Actually, you'd rather avoid it. Defending the merfolk was the biggest goal in your life... well, it was until you meet a certain pirate... it seems that your family really had a thing for humans, after all. Not that you'd ever admit it...

Word Account: 4875

Part 6 of ?

Pairing: Harry x reader (he is not in this chapter, sorry)

 Warnings: Some cuss words and underage drinking. 

A/N: English isn't my first language, so I'll probably mess up some tenses, grammar and stuff. Go easy on me, please. Feedback is always appreciated

Masterlist here

                                                      ---------

"I'm never, ever setting foot on shore again, grandpa will have to find another diplomat because I quit!" you announced very eloquently to the only merman in the room: your brother who, on the other hand, was trying to make you help him with his summer homework.

"Yeah sure, it's not like you say this every time you come back from Auradon or anything" he didn't even bother looking up from his essay "Who won the battle of the Irish Sea?"

"But this time is true, they made it personal" you grumbled, swimming back and forth impatiently.

"They always do..." he said absently, knowing very well it was pointless to try to reason with you when you were having an outburst "Was it the Kappas?"

Ok, no matter how pissed you were, you could not have your own brother messing up the Water Kingdom's History like this, so you sat by his side and took the paper from his hand.

"Let me see this" you corrected him, perusing through the essay he wrote "Not the Kappas. The selkies won after the kelpies joined their side."

"I know you're sad..." Nereus said after a while, eyes filled with concern.

You sighed and put the essay down.

"I'm not..." you began, but he interrupted you before you could come up with some excuse.

People believing that you were angry and cranky was one thing, but Neptune forbid anyone to know you've got a heart.

"Yes, you are! It's been almost a week since you went to Auradon and I've never seen you so off. Yesterday Aethra said she couldn't wait until she was old enough to go to the surface and you didn't even roll your eyes. Last year, when Ogen spoke the same thing, you made a complete speech of why life under the sea is much better than anything humans have to offer, you had slides and everything."

He squeezed your hand gently and offered you a supportive smile.

"Even Aqua noticed how quiet you are… Please don't tell her I'm telling you this, but she said she prefers you ranting to this silence."

"I doubt" you let out a breathy chuckle.

The presence of your brother was comforting so you allowed yourself to let your guard down and lay on his lap while he stroked your hair. Both of you stayed a while like this, each one absorbed in your own thoughts. Yes, it had been almost a week since everything had happened and you still had nightmares about that; the look on Harry's face when he said Ben was just going to throw them all back inside the Isle would hunt you forever.

Truth be told, you swam next to the barrier a couple of times, but the only things you saw were seaweed, rocks, some weird looking fish and a dead goblin. It wasn't like you could ask someone to tell Uma you'd be expecting her and, even If you could see her, what would you do? People inside the barrier could not hear anything from the outside, and again, even if they could, what would you tell her? How sorry you were? That it wasn't fair? Uma didn't need anyone saying what she has known all her life.

You were torturing yourself, feeling your stomach turn on itself with guilty when your grandfather glided into the room. Both of you and your brother stood up, showing respect to the king of the seas.

"May I talk to you for a moment, my dear" he pointed to you and your brother took his belongings and left the room, he whispered a "good luck" as he passed by you and swam off.

"Yes, grandpa?" your chest filled up with hope that your grandfather had spoken to Ben and made him change his mind about the Isle.

However, it was only wishful thinking because the reality was way crueler than whatever you could have imagined.

"About tomorrow…" he started.

Oh no! Ben and Mal's engagement party was tomorrow, but you had already decided you weren't going, no matter how hard your grandfather or anyone tried to convince you to.

You couldn't stand the idea of having to smile to them while all you wanted to do was to scream and cry. How could you pretend that everything was okay when nothing was? The hypocrisy made you sick.

"I won't go" you told him, you even tried to use your 'heiress of the throne' tone, but of course the current king of Atlantica wouldn't fall for that.

"You're the diplomat between the human kingdom and the water kingdom" he reminded you, his expression turning as serious as his voice.

"Was" you corrected him "I quit".

That little voice inside your head was telling to stop defying your grandfather. He could be very understanding of some things (like you still didn't believe he knew about Uma all the time and didn't lose it), but he also had plans for you that required you to be Atlantica's representative, because, accordingly to your grandfather and mother, no one would defend the water kingdom's interests better than you.

Actually, that was their way of saying "We don't want to deal with this and since one day you'll have to rule, it's better that you know what to do. Also, we don't want the fish eaters thinking that we hate them".

But, being honest, your grandfather liked humans now as much as he did in the past; the only difference was that he learned how to tolerate them.

Anyway, the truth was: Auradon wasn't as great as people wanted to believe. In theory, having all kingdoms unified was a superb idea, but in practice most of places were losing their own cultural identity, adapting their traditions and habits to fit in Auradon's new rules. If your grandfather had followed all King Beat's proposals 20 years ago, Atlantica would have become a tourist attraction for humans.

It wasn't like King Triton didn't want to be more engaged in Auradon society, but he was afraid to lose the independence of the merpeople. Thus, he hoped that when you assumed the throne, you'd have a better foreign policy than he had without giving up Atlantica's culture and pride.

He looked at you and his piercing glare went right through your soul...

King Triton, intimidating? No, not at all.

"This is not just the King and Queen's engagement party, but also your friend's"

"But grandpa..." you cried out.

"I won't hear it" he raised his hand to show that his decision was final and he wouldn't hear anything else.

You tilted your head back and groaned, if you couldn't talk yourself out of this, you could very well show your dissatisfaction.

"Glad we came to an agreement" he gave a pleased smile like he always did when his wishes were fulfilled and, as he swam past you, he patted your hair "And you might end up having fun"

You rolled your eyes and lay on the floor, defeated. You don't know how long you stayed there, contemplating your misfortune, when suddenly you felt something walking on your tail; you craned your neck and saw Sebastian staring back at you.

"Traitor" you murmured.

"Being in the human world is never my choice. Your grandfather asked me to" he explained, sliding down to your side and you turned over to have a better view of him.

"No one likes to be there, so why do I have to go?"

"For the same reason I had: your grandfather is the king. But I didn't come to discuss the fairness of life" his words caught your attention and you raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

Sebastian seemed a little anxious: he looked side to side and beckoned to you to get closer and, when you did, he said in a muffled and rushed voice:

"You know Derek? That lobster? Yesterday, he was near the northern part of the barrier and saw a girl with teal hair there... even better, he said it was the second time he spotted her there by sunset"

Before you could refrain yourself, you picked the crab up, holding him on the palm of your hand. There was no use in denying that you knew Uma because Sebastian had followed you in Auradon and was aware that you and the sea witch's daughter were friends.

"What?" you practically yelled and your whole body shivered with joy for knowing that Uma had been looking for you "Are you sure?"

"Yes" he confirmed "I thought it could lift your spirit up "

"Sebastian it did! I'm going there now" you stood up in a heartbeat, but before you could make your way to the Isle, Sebastian called you.

"If you go there now, King Triton will think you're avoiding the engagement party" he remarked reasonably.

Damn it, he had a point

"Why don't you go tomorrow after greeting King Ben and his future queen?" He suggested, eyeing you innocently, but you saw right true his intentions.

The only reason he told you about Uma was to give you a boost of encouragement to go to Auradon again, this way you would be excited for the party and wouldn't complain too much about being there.

He was a clever crustaceous.

Well, it worked, at least now you could pretend you were having fun, whereas what you were really looking forward to was seeing Uma again.

"Deal" you hold out your hand and you he shake it to seal the deal.

Even if the party was dreadful, the perspective of meeting Uma again was pretty motivating. You should have asked if Derek saw someone else with her, it was weird but you wouldn't mind seeing Harry again.

_____________

"Ugh, I can't believe I'm going back there"

Talking to Sebastian got you very excited; however, now that you really had to go, you were having second thoughts about it.

You didn't have to attend to any human gathering to go to the barrier; you could very well wait in Atlantic until sunset.

"Why can't grandpa send someone who actually wants to be there? Aqua wouldn't mind, or April or Adryan..." you whined - any of your cousins would gladly go to Mal and Ben's engagement, but of course you were the one your grandfather insisted on.

Nereus, who tried to fix your hair in a new style, hummed blankly to show he was listening.

"I'm feeling sick... Grandpa can't make me go if I'm sick" you turned your face to him and he casted an annoyed look at you before going back to applying pearls in your hair.

"You already used that one not to go to the Royal Cotillion" he reminded you, turning your head forward impatiently when you tried to look at him again.

"But I was sick" you protested, earning an amused glare from him "I was sick of human's bullshit".

He burst out laughing.

"I don't think our grandfather will consider it a good reason to skip this ball" he said after regaining his composure.

"Well, at least I'll be closer to the Isle" you mumbled to yourself, but Nereus heard you.

"Why? What will you do?" he stopped what he was doing and sat on the dressing table, staring at you "Please, don't tell you plan on bringing the barrier down by yourself".

"I don't have the power to do it… You know I've tried" you joked and thankfully, Nereus played along.

"You don't need power, use your head... I mean... it is very hard. I'm pretty sure if you swim fast enough you can make a whole in the barrier"

You punched him playfully and got up.

"Hey, I didn't finish your hair" he called out.

"But I have to go, otherwise I won't arrive in time" you explained, grabbing your comb and placing it between the shells and pearls your brother had adorned your hair with.

Of course, the truth was you weren't leaving because you didn't want to be late, but because your brother was smart enough to figure out that you were up to no good.

"Wish me luck" you hugged him.

"Good luck!" he kissed your cheek and with that, you left.

Your mother told you to be kind and not to forget the manners she taught you, your grandfather said how proud of you he was and even asked if you didn't want to take his royal carriage, to which you denied politely.

You rather swam by yourself and if you were going to the Isle after the party, a carriage pulled by dolphins would be hard to go unnoticed.

You bid goodbye and took the path towards Auradon. The City wasn't close to Atlantica, but years of comings and goings made you an expert and you were able to arrive there in a very short time. Also, fins were so much faster than legs, which made the travel easier.

In other circumstances you'd have stopped to talk to many friends that lived nearby, but a little mantra was echoing in your mind "The faster you get there, the faster you leave. The faster you get there, the faster you leave" - you didn't mean to stay more than the necessary; after all. Your grandfather told you to go to Auradon, but he didn't say how long you had to staythere.

Besides, Sebastian said Uma was seen at the barrier by sunset, but what if she decided to go earlier?  You were going to be there one hour in advance for precaution.

Although magic was highly discouraged, there was no other way for the merpeople to become human without it. That's why a magical necklace was given to any mermaid or merman who wanted to venture themselves ashore.

Those necklaces weren't given away easily, though. In order to acquire one, you had to fill a formulary explaining why you needed it and it had to be accepted by King Ben and King Triton themselves. It was very bureaucratic and the only reason this process had to be done was because King Beast declared all magic should be banished so you could not hand around magical objects freely.

However, since you were a royal diplomatic, they made an exception.

Call it privilege.

One good thing about those necklaces was that King Triton made sure that once you went through the transformation, clothes would magically appear to. It was a huge improvement since your aunt Ariel had gotten her own legs from her deal with Ursula; imagine how would it be if you had to walk around naked until you find something to wear.

At least the merfolk didn't have to worry about that anymore. So, once you got on the beach and turned into human you had on a beautiful dress that matched the shells your brother chose to decorate your hair.

It wasn't as pretty as your tail and fins, though.

You headed to Auradon Prep because the party would be held near the school (why they were so obsessed by this place was beyond your comprehension). When you finally arrived, everyone was already there, talking and having fun.

Thankfully, your cousins that lived in Auradon weren't hard to find and rushed towards them - you couldn't help but notice that, as you got closer, they exchanged money between themselves.

"What's going on?" you asked, intrigued by what you just saw.

"Nothing" Arabella answered "What a lovely dress you're wearing. How is gramps doing?".

She changed the topic way too fast, which made your curiosity grow, but you decided to ignore it for the time being.

"He is fine. He misses you a lot and says you should visit us more often. I can't understand Bella, why do you prefer being here among sweaty humans?"

"Do you ever change the subject?" she complained, rolling her eyes "This is a party and I refuse to deal with your bullshit today"

"Maybe tomorrow, then!" you fired back and she voiced her discontentment with an exasperated shriek.

"Why are you like this?" she said before flouncing off, bouncing her hair as she did so.

"What did I do?" you asked Ella, who had been quiet up to that moment, and she chuckled.

"I miss this" she said, pointing to you and the crowd.

"You're the only one"

"It wouldn't hurt if you came to visit us once in a while, you know" she looked up, her hopeful smile made her eyes crinkle and you mirrored her expression, smiling too.

Ella was Ariel's younger daughter and, even though you didn't see her as much as you would like, she was probably your favorite cousin; she was kind and outgoing, which was a good counterpoint to your not so affable nature.

Before you could reply, one of the merfolk who attended Auradon Prep joined you both, he gave you a little bow and handed your cousin some money. You waited for him to leave before question her about it.

"Ella, what's happening?" your tone made clear you wouldn't take a "nothing" for an answer.

The girl sighed, knowing it was a lost battle.

"Maybe there is a bet going on…" she told you, voice trailing off.

You raised an eyebrow, face turning stoic and you feigned boredom.

"Does it involve me?"

"Well, some people didn't believe you'd show up today after the whole Audrey fiasco" she glanced at you out of the corner of her eye and, when you didn't say anything, Ella went on "We made a bet: everyone believed you wouldn't appear, you know. I was the only one who knew you'd be here and now I'm making a lot of money."

She showed you the amount she had already won and it was kind of impressive. It seemed that half of Auradon was sure you hated the human world.

They were right.

Okay, not hate. It was a great dislike.

"I can't believe you thought I'd come" you said without hiding the indignation in your voice and a little offended that your own cousin didn't know you better.

"C'mon. I knew you wouldn't want to, but I was certain grandpops wouldn't give you much of a choice, so even against your will - and I know you must had protested a lot - you'd be here today"

Your cousin was kind, yet cunning, and that was why she was your favorite.

"I'm impressed" you clapped, nodding your head slowly as you did so.

"I know. I'm amazing" she teased and then, her expression became concerned "How are you, by the way? I've heard they will close the barrier forever"

You whined, for one moment you had forgotten about how you failed the Isle and Uma. First you were angry at Mal and Ben, but now? Now you wanted blood... not literally, but you were kind of mad.

"I've been better... you just remind me I had to wish Ben and Mal my best regards in the name of Atlantica."

"Okay, see you later" she cheered and added on for precaution "Try to be polite, please"

When she asked you that, the memory of Sebastian, your mother and grandfather pleading you to be civil in this party echoed in your mind.

What did they think of you? That you were a mannerless monster?

You were very well educated, thank you very much, but didn't waste your good manners on people who didn't deserve it.

"Can't make any promises" you laughed off, disappearing into the crowed to find the King and Mal.

You didn't have to look for them for long as a mass of people was surrounding the fiancés to be while they thanked everybody for coming to their party. They seemed so merry and pleased whilst their subjects wished them all the happiness of the world. People in Auradon were just so fucking good and gracious, weren't they?

Hypocrites.

You had a plan, though.

1- Smile.

2- Greet.

3- Leave.

It was simple, short, and impossible to mess up.

Smile, greet, leave, smile, greet, leave. You kept repeating it like a mantra as you approached them.

For one moment their cheerful expressions froze and their eyes widened to the size a saucer, but they recomposed themselves quickly enough. Either they were surprised to see you there or they were afraid you were going to snap.

But you wouldn't snap.

You had a plan.

"Your Majesties" you smiled, bobbing a curtsy to them.

1 - Smile. Check.

They saluted you, asking how things were back in Atlantica and the conversation was brief and polite, like it should be.

"In the name of Atlantica I wish you both prosperity and wisdom to rule, and that your life is filled with great joys"

You said that in a very diplomatic tone that could have fooled anyone.

2 - Greet. Check

They thanked you and you made your exit.

3 - Leave. Che...

"And…" you turned back with a spin.

Screw the plan; you didn't sell your voice to a sea witch, so you may as well use it.

"Speaking for me, I really want you both to be happy. I mean, someone has to, right? Considering that you doomed thousands of people to a life of suffering just so you could have your perfect happily ever after without any inconveniences"

Then, you left.

One day you'd be all diplomatic and shit, but that day wasn't today.

And, to be fair, you've tried to be reasonable for years and all you got was "Oh sorry, we can't let anyone off the island. It's not that simple, this would require lots of planning and social reintegration, but we will take this matter into consideration in the future...". That's why you started speaking your mind: even if didn't change anything, at least it wouldn't leave a bitter taste in your mouth for not saying your real opinion.

Yeah, your grandfather really should reconsider who he sent to land for affairs of state.

Whatever, just a few more hours and you'd be making your way to the barrier to see Uma.

You were trying to find your cousin again when Audrey intercepted you, looking rather tense.

"Hey" she greeted you but without meeting your eyes.

Audrey seemed to have taken a strange interested in her hands, which she wringed unsteadily, you noticed.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for.. you know... cursing you and your family..." she said, voice shaking a little.

Oh! So Audrey was a nervous wreck to talk to you, how amusing. It boosted your ego but you weren't that mean.

"Relax, Audrey. It's all forgiven" you put her mind at ease.

She let out a breath and her face brightened up.

"But" you offered her a smile that slowly fade into a severe frown "If you do it again I'll make you wish for something as sweet as sleeping for 100 years".

It was clearly a joke but Audrey didn't get it as she excused and made herself scarce in seconds.

"You know... if you want people to understand when you are joking, you shouldn't keep a straight face"

You jerked your head to face Jay, who handed you a glass with a purple liquid in it.

"I wasn't that intense" you took a sip of the drink, it was way too sweet for your salted water taste, and you were pretty sure that it was alcoholic too.

Well, maybe alcohol was the key to survive this party.

"C'mon! You were like this" he mimic you, making quite a murderous expression. Then, resuming his neutral expression, he added "You are like the sea'.

That was new… but you weren't sure about what he meant by that.

"I'm salty and I scare people?" scrunching your face up in confusion.

It took some good minutes for Jay pull himself together.

"I was going to say imposing and beautiful, but that too" he said, wiping the tears from his eyes.

You couldn't help but crack a smile and, since you didn't think of a good answer (which was very unusual), you took another sip of whatever beverage that was.

Fortunately, Jay didn't notice how embarrassed you were by his compliment and changed the topic soon after.

"So, how ar..."

"Stop right there" you warned him, holding your finger up.

"What?" the VK's brows burrowed in confusion but deep inside he was afraid that he had said something wrong.

"I know this face." you explained "Every time people ask how I am, they do this pitiful face and I can't have that... not from you…".

It was painful how most people assumed that you were miserable because of last week events. Okay, you were sad and pissed but gosh, you hated that condescending attitude.

"Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were okay" he didn't seem offended by your words, but the atmosphere between you two grew colder and awkward.

Great, of all people you could have snapped at today, you did it to Jay.

Now, you were sad, pissed and stupid.

"Sorry... I didn't mean to be rude" you apologized "If you really want to know, I'm a mess. The only reason I didn't cry this whole week was because I live under water, but if you tell this to anyone, I'll deny it".

"It's going to be our secret then" Jay stroked your arm  to show support "You really care about the Isle, don't you?"

You shrugged, not knowing what to say to him. Yes, you cared about the Isle and the people there; it was hard to explain the reason, though.

Maybe another time…

"By the way, I wanted to ask you this..." he cooed and if you hadn't been so busy with that drink, you'd have seen the mischievous gleam in his eyes "Did Uma and you already know each other, by any chance?"

You choked.

Hard.

Jay went to your aid quickly and helped you to recover, slapping your back lightly.

A mermaid choking on a liquid, what a joke.

"No..." your voice cracked and it wasn't because you're still faint "Why would you think that?"

"Well…" he began, but was cut off soon after.

Thank goodness,  Mal and Ben announced they would start their pronouncement and Jay joined his former friends. All people gathered under the balcony where the Royal Family stood proudly, and everybody was eager to hear the news their King and Queen would say.

It was difficult to hear one's thoughts over the cheering and acclamation. However, since you didn't share their happiness, you stayed away from the commotion, enjoying your sweet drink.

Ben started his speech, of course he was very pleased to have Mal as his queen and everyone was happy.

Everyone, except the people on the Isle, of course.

You scoffed so loudly that if people hadn't been hearing Ben's speech, they would have heard you. Subsequently, the king proposed a toast to Mal and you wondered if it would be rude to ignore it.

Everything would be so much easier if your grandfather had made your brother the diplomat of Atlantica, considering he was a people pleaser like you would never be.

Well, it wouldn't hurt to raise your glass, so you did it... very discretely.

For everyone's surprise, Mal announced she couldn't be Queen of Auradon, causing a wave of gasps and murmurs from the puzzled crowd.

Really? Were they really surprised? Like, Mal was a drama queen, she just needed an emotional solo or Evie knocking some sense into her head for her to change her mind.

Unless it involved the Isle of course, then she didn't care to condemn them forever, you thought bitterly.

Yep, you were salty enough to cause hypertension in every single soul in Auradon.

However, you did not expect, not even in your wildest dreams, what followed next. Actually, even after years, you'd still remember that day and think "what the hell just happened". If people were shocked when Mal said she couldn't be queen, they nearly had a stroke when she brought down the barrier. It wasn't like she let just the villain kids off, she destroyed the barrier, and everyone was free.

As a personal note, you observed how fast Ben changed his discourse from "We can't get the merfolk off the Isle without consequences, we need preparation, meetings, plans..." to "Ok, my bae wants to bring down the barrier and I won't argue with her. So yeah, let's do it".

Not that you were complaining but, had you known that it only took a love potion for Ben do what you wanted, you'd have done it.

Wow! What a wild thought to have...

Maybe you were getting a little drunk...

But the barrier came down so, whatever...

You looked at King Beast's face and he was about to pass out any moment, but other than that, everyone seemed very excited to meet the villains.

It wasn't like a minute ago they didn't give a damn about the people there or their fate.

Well, maybe that was Auradon's magic: one moment you hated each other, in the next you were all singing and dancing on a bridge.

You finished your drink in one go, because that was going to be a party to remember.

[isitgintimeyet]

Just a Friend

So I finally started to write another story...

I will try and post weekly, but can’t promise on account of real life and my inability to actually focus on translating what’s in my head onto paper (or screen!)

Getting the courage to post never gets any easier, but here goes. I hope you enjoy this frothy bit of fun. I will also post on AO3.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for being an excellent beta.

Chapter 1: From Airport to Aggravation

Bank holiday crowds, on the whole, are hell.

And this one is rapidly turning into an even deeper level of purgatory. The hottest May for years in Scotland and I’m stuck at Glasgow airport with a dozen women, collectively known as ‘Geillis’s Hen Party Posse’, each displaying varying degrees of inebriation, hangover or general sleep deprivation, and all aiming for the luggage carousel showing the flight from Barcelona. Which apparently is where several hundred other disembarked passengers are also heading.

Eventually, I manage to get a view of the bags and cases slowly making their way around the belt. They’re pretty picked over by this time, apart from the couple of boxes covered in gaffer tape that always seem to be first off a plane—any plane—and last to be collected. They’re always there, on every flight. Why is that?

I pause from my musings to wave frantically at Geillis, who now has a trolley and is clearing a path straight towards me.

“I got us a trolley.” she informs me, stating the obvious. “I thought it’d be easier. Have ye seen ours yet, Claire? I canna see the others. They must have already gone through.”

“No,” I answer, keeping my eyes firmly on the little hatch, willing our bags to appear. All I want is to go home, put my sleep mask on and try and get some sleep. Three days in Barcelona celebrating Geillis’s forthcoming nuptials have worn me out, and, I glance at my watch, I am due in theatre in approximately seventeen hours time.

"It's there, it's there," Geillis points excitedly at the neon pink and green leopard print bag making its way towards us.

She makes a grab for it as I continue to look for my bag. Predictably, it’s one of the last ones on the carousel. I recognise it immediately from the piece of red gift ribbon tied to the handle of the plain black Samsonite. I load it onto the trolley and Geillis and I head through customs to join the rest of the posse.

We say our goodbyes loudly, with much hugging and kisses. A stranger viewing this scene might imagine we won’t be seeing each other again for weeks or even months. In truth, I’ll be seeing most of them in the next week or so at the hospital as our schedules coincide.

“Shall we two get a taxi, then?” Geillis asks me.

I start to answer as my mobile pings — a text from Frank...very nice, very caring, very predictable.

Darling, it’s been a long three days without you. I am ready to collect you from the airport if you would like. If not, might I see you later this evening? xxx

And that is very clearly Frank. Correct grammar and punctuation, even on his texts. I shake my head as if to drive away my inner bitch and pretend I haven’t read it. I will respond, of course, just later when I’m back at home.

So, I smile at Geillis and agree. “Of course, we can go halves.”

***********

As I walk into my flat, the peace and quiet and sheer bloody calm wraps itself around me like a swaddling cloth. It’s blissfully cool too, with all the shutters closed.

It’s not that I didn’t have a good time in Barcelona. It was actually great. But being in the company of others twenty four hours a day is wearing, much as I love them. And we all had to do everything together. No sneaking off for a solitary walk, or escaping to bed for a little siesta.

I deposit my suitcase by the bedroom door, slip off my converse, pour myself a glass of orange juice, settle down on the sofa and figure out how best to tell Frank not tonight without offending him.

Frank, Sorry but tonight isn’t —

I delete and try again.

Thanks for the offer to pick me up. I was already in the taxi when I got it. Can we give tonight a miss? Theatre in the morning and I’m knackered totally exhausted. You know what Geillis is like. Speak tomorrow, I promise. C

Frank knows what Geillis is like. Frank thinks Geillis is a bad influence on me, with her larger than life personality and wild ideas. I think Frank doesn’t really know me at all if he believes I can be influenced like that. I hang out with Geillis and my friends because they’re fun and we laugh… a lot.

Without realising, I feel my shoulder muscles relax as soon as I’ve sent the message. These are not good signs for my relationship with Frank. He’s investing far more into ‘us’ than I am willing to do. But as long as I’m honest with him…

There are advantages to being with Frank, of course. He’s punctual, very organised and a proficient and considerate lover. He always makes sure I come, even if I sometimes...er… exaggerate my reactions to hurry things along. So much for honesty, then.

I finish my orange juice and plan my evening. Four things to do - unpack, grab some food, shower and sleep. Not even going to wash my hair. That would really be too much effort, struggling with my untameable mane, and it’s going to be stuck under a surgical cap for most of tomorrow anyway.

It takes a bit of effort to actually move from the sofa. I could quite happily fall asleep there. But then I’d wake up in the middle of the night—starving hungry and still smelling of sweaty airports. Reluctantly, I haul myself into a vertical position and head for my bedroom picking up my suitcase en route.

Opening the suitcase, I am not greeted with the expected haphazard mass of sun dresses, t shirts and shorts—all with the evocative aroma of Hawaiian Tropic—but a layer of white dress shirts, immaculately folded and the faint scent of a musky cologne.

Shit, shit, shit!! Some else has walked off with my black samsonite with the red ribbon on the handle. My evening plans are rapidly going awry. I delve into my handbag praying that I kept my boarding pass with the sticky bar code luggage receipt. The relief when I find it lurking in the bottom of my bag is immense. Quickly I google the airline lost baggage number and dial.

After a few bars of some god awful plinky plinky hold music, I hear a recorded message. “Your call is important to us, please hold. Your call is important to us, please hold.”

Good to know, then back to the plinky plinky before another message. “The office you are trying to reach is now closed. Please try again during office hours nine am to five thirty. Thank you.”

“If my call is so important to you, why is no one there at six o’clock?” I yell down the phone, but the plinky plinky ignores me and continues its irritating melody.

I sigh. I don’t want to have to wait until tomorrow morning to sort this out. Besides, by nine am tomorrow morning, I will be somewhat unavailable - reshaping the hip bone of a seven year old boy. So, I have no alternative. I will have to have a bit of a dig around this stranger’s suitcase, looking for any clue or contact details.

As I start to have a feel around, it occurs to me that some stranger might, at this very moment, be doing exactly the same thing — having a poke around my suitcase in the hope of finding my details. No doubt judging me based on my choice of holiday attire.  And, I suddenly realise, his judgement may well be coloured by the discovery of some items of a more adult nature.

I say ‘he’, based on the XL white shirts, the pair of battered jeans and faded Scotland rugby shirt, but I could be wrong. I don’t have to dig any further into the case as I spy, in a mesh pocket, a neat rectangle of card with a name — James Fraser — a mobile number and an email address.

Relief sweeps over me. Perhaps we can get this all sorted tonight. Unless this James Fraser lives miles away and was just passing through Glasgow on his way to, say, the Outer Hebrides. That could be a whole other level of problem.

I quickly reach for my phone. Another message from Frank awaits.

Are you sure, darling? I’m looking forward to seeing you. Would tomorrow evening work for you?

I ignore it for the moment. Let me sort my luggage issue out first.

I dial the number on the card and begin to pace around my bedroom as it rings and rings. I am just about to give up when, thankfully, it’s answered.

“Hello?” A female voice asks warily.

I clear my throat and put on my most pleasant phone voice. “Is there a James Fraser there please?”

“Ye’ve the wrong number.”

“Oh, sorry, I must have mis—“ I begin, but find myself apologising to dead air.

I try again, carefully comparing each digit to those written, very neatly, on the card.

“Hello?” The same female voice answers, more than a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“I’m sorry, but this is the number I have for James Fra—“

“And I already told ye, ye’ve the wrong number. Dinna bother again.”

In the days before mobiles, I’m sure this would have been accompanied by a deafening crash as the receiver hit the cradle. Pressing a soft key doesn’t have the same dramatic effect. But I get the message anyway.

So, new plan needed. All I can do is email this James Fraser and hope he actually has written down the correct email address. If not, I’ll have to sort it out with the airline tomorrow afternoon.

My stomach rumbles and I suddenly realise that I’ve not eaten since breakfast, unless you count the slices of fruit in my jug of sangria. I wander into the kitchen and peruse the contents of my cupboards and fridge. I’m not the most gifted cook, but I’m not too bad and can usually rustle up something edible and fairly tasty. The bread feels a bit on the dry side but will be fine toasted, and I know I have eggs.

I put a knob of butter in a pan and text Frank while I’m waiting for it to sizzle.

Think tomoz will be ok. Talk 2morrow. C

I don’t normally use text speak at all,  but something about Frank’s perfectly formed text messages always makes me want to rebel. I can imagine him wincing right now.  He’s a professor at the university and is forever complaining about the standard of literacy amongst his undergraduates. If he thinks he has problems, he should try dealing with junior doctors.

With my scrambled egg on toast all eaten, I focus my attention on the email to James Fraser. I write it quickly, brief and to the point: I have your suitcase and therefore presume you have mine, can we meet to swap them over and here’s my phone number.

The longing for a shower and then bed is now overwhelming. I strip off and bundle all my clothes into the laundry basket, tie my hair up with a scrunchie and step into my shower. This is undoubtedly one of my favourite places on earth and possibly the reason that I bought this flat. Large enough for two, I suppose. Although none have yet been invited to partake in this heavenly experience. Maybe I’m saving that for someone extra special. It has a huge overhead rainfall shower head and a handheld shower head too.

My indulgences are all in here — a selection of expensive shower gels, scrubs and lotions and an assortment of huge fluffy bath towels. I choose a lavender scented gel and scrub all traces of the day from my skin.

Wrapping myself  in one of my pristine white towels, I slather shea butter lotion on my slightly sun-burnt skin, noticing the uneven red patches where the sun cream hadn’t quite reached but at least it’s not sore.

A quick check of my emails shows there’s no word from James Fraser as yet, so I decide to just settle down to sleep and leave luggage worries until the morning. Fortunately, I had changed the sheets before my weekend away, so I simply unwrap my towel, leaving it in a heap on the floor and slide into bed. The feeling of the cool, crisp bedding against my skin is wonderful. I assume a sort of diagonal starfish position, not having to worry about any other occupants. It crosses my mind whether to reach for the tiny vibrator in my bedside drawer, but I’m too comfortable and drowsy for that, so instead I check my alarm and settle down for sleep.

[ipuckwithhockey]

Always In Your Corner- Part 4

a/n: Originally this chapter was going to be a little longer, but I’m not satisfied with the second half so I decided to go ahead and post. Sorry about the long wait! Please ignore my grammar mistakes. I hope y’all enjoy! Let me know what you think!

Summary: You were happily engaged to your perfect boyfriend when everything came tumbling down on you. The person you turned to just so happened to be your long time friend, Boone Jenner. The ever loyal Boone is there to help you get back on your feet. Little did you know, Boone had been pining after you for all these years, he’s just not sure if you’ll ever feel the same way about him.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing, drinking

-------

Almost a year later…

The season wasn’t quite under way yet, but everyone was back in Columbus for camp and preseason. The summer without Boone was a long one, but it was good for you to be independent after relying on him for so long. You still talked everyday and he came back to Ohio a couple of times to visit. Since he got back you’ve been spending more and more time together. Boone would be lying if he said that one of his trips back to Columbus was just for a voluntary charity event. He would have used any excuse to be back in the city with you.

You had grown a lot since you walked out on Craig. Living on your own was a hard transition but you got the hang of it. You were starting to find the head strong and excited girl you used to know. You also felt like you had finally started becoming your own person, independent from a man. For the first time you did what you wanted, when you wanted, and you loved that part. There were always days that were harder than others, but you had come along way, and you were proud of yourself.

The first time you ran into Craig was definitely one of the hard days.

It was nearly six months after you had walked out, and shortly after Columbus had been knocked out of the playoffs. You were walking out of a coffee shop one morning when you saw Craig, hand in hand with Chelsea. They looked happy and if you hadn’t known them you would have thought they made a cute couple, but you did know them. You knew that she was the girl who your fiancé had slept with. You also knew, that the blame couldn’t just be put on her. Craig made the choice just as consciously as she had.

You thought that if you looked down and didn’t say anything they may not even notice you, but just as you passed them you heard Craig’s voice, “Y/N? Is that you?”

“Oh hey! I didn’t even see you guys!” You probably seemed too eager, but they were both being overtly nice too.

“Wow, I didn’t even recognize you at first.” Craig was probably referencing the hard work you had been putting in at the gym over the last few months, in an attempt to help yourself get back on track.

“Your hair is a lot longer, I don’t think I’ve ever seen it styled like that.” Chelsea was now referencing your grown out hair that you recently added some highlights to. You knew she was trying hard to make polite conversation. You hadn’t been dying to do go full on break up bangs, but you figured some fresh color couldn’t hurt.

“It looks really good,” Craig was looking at you, and you knew he was looking at you in a way a taken man shouldn’t be looking at a single girl. You knew that look, proving that you still knew parts of him like the back of your hand. But the thing was, he was never a huge fan of your hair when it was long. Once he even said that he thought you should keep you hair short like some celebrity he had seen on tv. You always thought it was kind of sweet that he cared about little things like how your hair was, but now you saw how controlling he was.

You wanted to be the bigger person, you wanted to just let it go, but you couldn’t, “That’s funny, you never liked my hair when it was long,” You let out a laugh as a weak attempt at keeping it light. You could tell Chelsea was uncomfortable and Craig was searching for the right thing to say. “Well, it was good seeing you guys, but I’ve really got to run!” You gave a fake smile and made your way back down the street to where you had parked your car.  

Finally, you got to the car and you slammed your door shut behind you. In the silence of your car, your strong facade was stripped away, and you felt tears pierce the corners of your eyes. Feelings of sadness, embarrassment, and anger filled you to the brim. For months you had been working on recovering from your downfall, and in this moment you couldn’t help but feel like it was all for nothing.

It’s like Boone knows when you need him, and you felt your phone vibrate in the pocket of your jacket. When you looked down and saw that it was him you automatically answered it, “Hey B, what’s up? Miss me already?” You tried to hide your uneven breathing caused by your sobs from a few seconds ago, but it did little to deter from the fact that you had been crying.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen? I’ll get on the next flight to Columb-“

“Boone, I’m fine. Really. I just ran into Craig and Chelsea, and I know it’s stupid, but it just sucked seeing them together and now I’m just crying in my car, and I’m pretty sure I freaked out some little kid when he walked by because I look scary when I ugly cry.” You stumbled your way through the rest of the story and Boone did his best to understand you through your crying and hiccups. When you first went to stay with Boone, you had been reluctant to share things with him, not wanting to overshare or burden him with too much. Now, you were more comfortable talking with him, even if he did have to pry a little at first. 

“I’m not sure if I got all of that, but fuck him. He’s a loser and so is that Chelsea bitch. I wouldn’t care what you did with your hair. Your hair is great, don’t get me wrong, but it isn’t the only reason you’re beautiful. You’re a good person, and you’re probably the smartest person I know. You’re funny, even though I hate to admit it.n Plus, you’ve got killer friends, like me. I meant it when I said I would come back. If you need me, I’m there. You know that.”

You of course hadn’t asked him to come back, but take note that his protective manner towards you has definitely grown over the last few months. After reassuring him that you were going to be fine, you decided that you weren’t going to wallow in this. It was in the past, and you knew then more than ever, that you had made the correct decision in leaving Craig.  

Tonight, Alexander’s girlfriend Felicia, was throwing a party for his birthday. As always you were invited, and Janelle had insisted that you come. This was their last big hurrah before the season started, and most the mom’s in the group had made sure to get babysitters for the special occasion.

The “small party” you were invited to didn’t seem that small when you arrived. The house party was full of people you didn’t recognize and it wasn’t until you made it to the kitchen that you found some familiar faces.

“HEYY! Y/N! YOU CAME!!” Pierre and some of the other guys cheered and pulled you into hugs as you entered the kitchen.

“I don’t think Janelle really gave me a choice.” You’re laughing but everyone standing around knows that it’s true. She can be very persuasive.

Pierre starts making you a drink when you feel an arm come around your side. You don’t even have to look beside you to know that it’s Boone. You take in his scent and the safety of his arms settle you in this crazy party setting.

“Hey, there you are.” He greets you.

“Hey,” The way Boone looks down at you makes your heart rate rise. Lately, you’ve been feeling differently around Boone, and it’s taking everything in you to suppress those feelings, especially with Boone’s arm hanging around your body. You wonder if he’s noticed that your hugs have been a little longer and that you keep to his side more often.  You try to tell yourself that it’s because you have become closer friends, and not because you might have feelings for him. 

“So, who’s going to claim me for their beer pong team?” You ask the room, and all the guys jump at the offer. You were known as a pretty big competitor on the Jacket’s beer pong circuit. Usually Josh would rope you into being his partner, but tonight Boone seemed eager to draft you for his team.

An hour later, you and Boone have basically defeated all of your worthy opponents, and you part ways to get a new drink. Josh and Seth wave down Boone to come join their conversation.

“So what’s going on man?” Seth asks.

“What do you mean? I just kicked your ass in beer pong!” Boone chirps back at Seth knowing that’s not what he’s talking about. The guys, and even some of the girls have asked him about the status of your relationship. The thing is, nothing has actually changed.

When Boone got back to Columbus a couple weeks ago you started to hang out almost everyday. Whenever either of you had time free, you were together. The ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ hugs seemed to linger longer, as did the accidental touches, and cuddling on the couch.

“Dude, what’s going on with you and Y/N? You guys both look at each other with heart eyes. It’s disgusting, but it would be better if you just made a fucking move. At least just fuck already! I think everybody in here can feel the awkward sexual tension!” Josh is chiming in now, and the alcohol he has consumed is making him a little more liberal with his words.

“Fuck off man. We’ve barely even seen each other in the past four months. I’m not sure if she’s ready to date at all, let alone wants to date me.” Boone chooses to ignore the “fucking” suggestion.

“Booner, I say this with the utmost respect, but you’re a fucking idiot.” Seth just pats him on the back and leaves the two other guys to talk.

While Boone goes to hang with the boys, some of the WAGs pull you into their conversations. Eventually Felicia pops the same question, “So, what’s going on with you and Boone?” Everyone is quick to turn to you with big eyes, waiting for a big reveal that isn’t going to come. “Nothing, we’re just friends.” You shrug and hope that they will leave it alone. You had been feeling differently about Boone lately, but you couldn’t let yourself think about it that way. He was your friend, and he helped you get back on your feet when the world’s biggest asshole cheated on you. You probably just thought you liked him because he was so nice to you. He would do anything for you because he’s your friend, not because he has feelings for you.

“Ok, you can keep living in denial, but all of us will be over here waiting for you guys to get your shit together and just confess your love to one another!” Janelle has been on you about this since they got back to Columbus, saying that you needed to get back out there, and that Boone was perfect for you. She insisted that he had feelings for you too, but you knew she was just determined to get you back into the dating scene.

Boone watches you from across the party and wonders what you are talking about. He thinks about how well you fit into his life here in Columbus. Natalie Atkinson must have said something funny, causing you to laugh. He loved watching you throw your head back when you laughed. For a long time after Craig he wasn’t sure when the next time he would see that would be.

He didn’t want to seem too clingy, especially with the guys already on his back about the two of you, so he tried to keep a safe distance for most of the night. He made sure to keep an eye on you for two reasons: one being he wanted to make sure you were safe and the second being the fact that he quite literally couldn’t help himself from watching you.

Throughout most of the night you talk with the other girls, but somehow Pierre and Tex pulled you into doing shots. It was nice to let your hair down a bit, but your alcohol tolerance wasn’t anywhere close to that of the hockey players you were trying to keep up with. It’s not until almost 2am that Boone finds his way back to your side. Somehow Boone had been pulled into a deep debate over whether or not a hotdog was a sandwich, and had missed you getting pulled into doing shots. When he glanced around the room to find you he didn’t see you, so he went to see if you were in the kitchen. That’s where he found you, multiple shots in, with Pierre and Tex.

“Hey, where have you been?” Your words are definitely slurring, and you can’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around his neck. He looks so good tonight and your inhibitions have been clouded with alcohol.

“I’ve been here the whole time, but it looks like these guys have gotten you into some trouble.” Pierre and Tex are trying to play coy and leave the two of you in the kitchen before they get scolded anymore. You’re just trying to focus on Boone and not on the fact that his hands are balancing you on your hips.

“Well I missed you,” not able to control your tongue, some honest thoughts escape your mouth. 

“I missed you too, but we should probably get you home.” He laughs. 

Boone, ever the responsible adult, stopped drinking a while ago and was planning on driving home. The two of you say your goodbyes as you continue to hang onto his sturdy arm.

“Do you need help getting in the car?”

“No. I can do it!” The false sense of confidence that was induced from alcohol gave way when you tried to lift your leg to the car step. You about fell on your ass. Boone was of course there to catch you, and help you into the car. He makes sure you’re all buckled in before he hops in the driver’s seat, and pulls out of the drive.

“Hey Boone?” You move your head to face him and you admire the way his beard is perfectly trimmed to emphasize the outline of his strong jaw.  He’s just so goddamn handsome under the lights that line the streets of downtown Columbus.

“Yes?”

“Can we go back to your place? Cus, it’s just that, your bed is so much comfier than mine, like it’s just so warm and cozy. And it smells so good.”

He can’t help but laugh at how cute and small you sound, “Sure, but you know you have the same mattress at your house, right?” He glances over to see you staring up at him.

“Yeah, I know. But it’s not the same….”

“…Hey B, you’re pretty handsome, you know that? Like you’re kind of a total man rocket.” He can’t help but laugh, but your confession lingers in his mind. Maybe you did feel something for him… 

You can’t really stop yourself now, words are falling out of your mouth without warning. “You’re like way hotter than Craig ever was. AAND you’re so nice. Like what’s with guys being selfish assholes all the time? But you’re not like that. You’re one of the good ones. Some girl is gonna be really really lucky one day.”

Once your rant is over neither of you say much else until you pull into Boone’s apartment. You’ve dozed off, and Boone is careful not to wake you as he picks you up out of the passenger seat. When he makes it into the apartment he brings you to his room and sets you gently on the bed. He works to take your shoes off and moves around quietly, getting ready for bed.

“Hey B?”

Your whisper startles Boone at first, but he moves over to check on you, sitting on the edge of the bed, “Yeah? What’s up?”

“You’re not gonna leave are you?” The look in your glazed over eyes could have broken his heart. He wasn’t ever going to leave you.

“Not if you don’t want me too.” You give him a soft smile back as he moves to turn the light off. When he gets into bed, you roll over to snuggle into his side, and his natural reaction is to wrap his arms around you. The way your bodies fold into each other feels so right, and even though you’re halfway passed out, you can’t help but feel a sense of serenity wash over you.  

Just as you’re about to fall back to sleep you ask again, “Hey B?”

“mhmm?”

“I love you.”

[snowdice]

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 23)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Janus, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy, Roman & Remus & Janus

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Janus, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Meanwhile, everyone else is trying to find a missing 15 year old, all with different pieces of the puzzle about where he is. It really is too bad that no one is answering their phones.

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned, explosions, car crashes (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 My Master Post

“Would anyone care to explain themselves?” Logan asked the room filled with the most frustrating human being he’d ever met. He must have infused his voice with the desired amount of ire, because everyone in the room seemed to wince simultaneously except…

“No thanks!” Remus chirped. Logan shot him a tired look and stepped forward. “Wait! Dad! No!” In a move he’d been using since Remus was a rambunctious child, Logan swiftly put him in a headlock.

“We’re going downstairs,” he told the others. His son was a bit wiggly when Logan started to pull him towards the elevator in the other room, but he didn’t actually put up a fight. In fact, the wiggling usually meant he was pleased with the attention.

He let Remus go when they got to their destination. The elevator was small enough that they ended up taking it in two groups. Logan ended up in an elevator with Lena, his sons, and his brother.

There were a couple of moments of awkward elevator music. “I am very displeased with everyone in this elevator,” Logan informed them all.

No one responded but Patton who patted him on the shoulder. Logan turned on him. “You are at the pinnacle of my ire.”

There were a few seconds of drawn out silence, and then Patton removed his hand. “Wow,” he said after a moment. “You could hear a pen-acle drop.”

“Kids, you no longer have an uncle,” Logan said coolly.

“That’s right,” Patton said with a smile despite the glare Logan was sending him. “You only have a puncle now.”

Roman snorted out a laugh but looked quickly away when Logan glared at him.

The elevator came to a stop and they climbed out of it. “You all go to the conference room while I wait for the rest. Except you,” he pointed at Lena and her bloody nose. “Fred can debrief me. You go get that checked out.” She shot him a thumbs up (because apparently the lack of disrespect for his authority had rubbed off on her) and wandered off towards medical.

“Um,” Roman said tentatively.

“Yes?” Logan asked, already even more tired.

“Also, Janus may or may not have a broken rib. At least he said he might have.”

“Why on Earth is he walking around, then?” Roman just shrugged in response to Logan’s question.

“And send someone down to look at his Janus apparently,” he called after Lena right before she turned the corner. “Anything else pressing?” he asked the three still with him. “No? Then I’ll see you all in the conference room in a few minutes.”

“Conference room 16 or 17?” Remus asked.

“Remus, everyone here is aware that room 17 is a broom closet,” Logan said. “No one is falling for that again.”

Remus sent him finger guns. “Conference room 17 it is,” he said turning to strut off down the hall. Roman shot Logan an awkward half smile before following after his brother, and Logan’s own brother jerked forward to smack his lips against Logan’s forehead before waltzing off after them.

Why was his family like this?

He turned to wait for the elevator to go back up to the factory and down again. He crossed his arms as it arrived. “You’re injured?” Logan asked as the doors opened.

Most of the occupants looked confused, but Janus looked slightly annoyed. “Remus,” he muttered.

“Roman actually,” Logan corrected. “I’m having someone sent down to look at you.”

“I’m f-”

“Don’t even try to argue right now; your second on my list today.”

“Remus is first?” Janus asked.

“Of course, Remus is first.”

“Where am I on the shit list?” Remy asked with interest.

“Somehow, only 5th.”

“Score!”

“But you’re inexorably moving up.”

“But I’m not in the top three.”

“No, my children and brother fill up the spots above you.”

“You said I was second,” Janus said with a frown.

“Yes,” Logan said. “Also, you’re grounded.” Then, he turned to walk towards the conference room.

“Wait, Logan, what does that mean?!” Janus asked his back.

“It means, Logan owes me a buttload of child support,” said Remy.

“I am not your kid. You are not my dad.”

“Sure, son.”

When Logan made it to the correct room, his family was already hard at work making his life a series of aggravations. Patton and Roman were already bent over some sort of project that involved markers, but Remus was missing. Before even stepping into the room, he turned to the opposite side of the hallway and opened the door to the supply closet.

“Get in the correct room before I make you get into the correct room,” Logan said.

“Come on dad, you know it’s not nice to force someone out of the closet.” On most days, Logan would not have found that at all funny, but today for some reason, it elicited a snort of surprised laughter. Remus smiled up at him from his seat on the floor like he always did when he’d done (or thought he’d done) something clever.

“Don’t,” Logan warned, wagging a finger at him, and trying to smooth the smile off his face. It was difficult since his chest was light with the relief of everyone he cared for being relatively unharmed. “Don’t. That doesn’t mean your forgiven. I am very, very unhappy with you.”

Remus just kept grinning.

“I’m relieved that you are safe and happy to have you back with me,” Logan said, “but I am also very angry.”

“Eh, that’s fair.”

“Now get out of the closet.”

Remus found it fit to obey him for the moment, and stood, following him to the conference room where the others had gathered. Patton had somehow found a stack of name tags somewhere and had managed to convince Roman to help him draw little pictures on them along with the names. Patton stuck one with a broom drawn on it onto Remus when he came in. He noticed Virgil’s had a knife drawn on it and Remy’s a cup of coffee. Logan’s own was, aggravatingly, a mobile phone.

Remy and Fredrick were currently forcing Janus into a chair while Roman avoided the glare the injured man was sending at him, and Emile was talking quietly to Virgil.

“Okay,” Logan said. “Let’s start with the ones who haven’t started to explain yet. Roman?”

“My phone got broken probably somewhere between Janus tackling me and hitting me in the face.”

“Oh, is that why Dad texted me about where you were a thousand times?” Remus asked

“Yes,” Logan said, “and you said you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t say that actually.”

“Remus.”

“I was in the middle of something! …And then I forgot.”

“And then it ended up in the bottom of a lake,” Roman said.

“And then it ended up in the bottom of a lake!” Remus agreed. “Along with Roman’s car and us for a minute.”

“You drove your car into a lake?” Logan asked Roman. He felt like his eyes was going to start twitching. “Is that why you are all wet?!”

“Yes, he did!” Remus said.

“Hey! No!” Roman said. “I managed to stop the car before it went into the lake. It’s not my fault the guys behind us aren’t as good drivers as me and slammed into us!”

“Roman destroyed another car!” Remus crooned, and there was the eye twitch. “What’s that? Three? And you say Janus is cursed!”

“I take so responsibility for the Taurus or for this one!”

“Two’s a coincidence; three’s a pattern!” Remus sang joyfully.

Logan shook his head at them and chose to look over at Janus instead. “And you?” he asked. “You looked at your mission details and never responded.”

“You were trying to send me on a wild goose chase when my brother was missing!” He tried to stand up and Remy pushed him back down again.

“I was trying to get you in a controlled environment before telling you of the issues for fear you would overreact and do something careless if you found out on your own.”

“I already knew,” Janus growled, “and that is not your call to make.”

Logan considered that. “Perhaps it wasn’t,” he agreed, “but you still should have attempted to communicate with me, at the very least so I would have known you were okay. For all I knew, Nelson had caught you in a lie and your cover had been blown.”

“It is blown,” Janus muttered. “I smashed her phone, blew up her car, and disobeyed her. She sent men to kill me.”

That information was honestly a relief in a way. Janus had been in danger constantly while being a double agent and Logan had grown more than fond of the man in the last few years. Not having to play nice with Barbara all the time would do him some good.

“We’ll have to reassign you,” Logan said. “As well as Remus, and you’ll both need new permanent residences.”

“We already decided we’re getting an apartment together,” Remus said.

“You decided,” Janus said weakly, clearly not actually interested in protesting, but needing to keep up appearances.

“And we’re going to get a kitty.”

“Ah,” Logan said. “Well, in that case, I would highly suggest you verify it is in fact a ‘kitty’ before you allow it on the premises. I have made that mistake before.”

“You love Raphael,” Remus claimed.

“Possum,” Roman explained at Janus’s questioning look.

“In fact,” Logan said. “It may be advisable that Remington consider moving as well. Nelson very much knows where you live and will likely be unhappy with your continued existence. At least, you should consider taking up residence somewhere else temporarily. For tonight, I’ll get everyone set up in some of the rooms in the base, but that will come later. For now, we need to get everything sorted out. I have a good overall idea about what happened at this point, is there any other important information I need to deal with immediately?”

Most everyone shook their heads and Logan was about to move on to getting more detailed reports when Remus raised his hand.

“Yes?” Logan asked.

“There are two of Barbara Nelson’s men tied up in the trunk of Lena’s car,” he offered.

“What?” Logan asked.

“They were the guys shooting at us that caused Roman to drive into the pond.”

“I did not drive into the pond.” Roman said.

“You were shot at?!”

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 24

[fantasticstoryteller]

New Dynasty Chapter 55

Peter watched as Wade paced the room. The older man was nervous and slightly twitchy as he moved. Slowly, Peter was coming to realize that the twitches were the man reacting to the voices in his head, the “boxes” as he called them.

“Please calm down,” Peter urged as Wade paced.

“I can’t—I mean, I shouldn't—shut up! I’m getting there!”

Peter felt a little hurt that the boxes got a full, complete sentence to themselves while all he got was broken grammar. He strode over and quickly grabbed Wade’s shoulders. “It’s okay!” he assured the man—still clearly not all there.

Wade gasped for a moment and then pressed his hands to his face. “I got a job.”

Peter waited. Clearly there was more coming.

Wade began to shift, like he wanted to pace—but he didn’t break away from Peter, who kept his grip light enough that Wade could break away. “It’s in New York.” He rushed on, quickly. “But it’s not a killing job and I know I said I wouldn’t kill in the city but it’s a good job for a friend and there’s no killing involved.” He paused. “I asked.”

Peter nodded. Sure, he knew Wade said he wouldn't kill in the city—and that was good. He also knew that Wade was a mercenary which meant he had to take jobs. He felt certain Deadpool was trying to funnel that money into Peter’s house without the boy knowing. He didn’t see why Wade was so worried about it.

“Do you need help?” he asked as he released Wade’s shoulders.

Wade stared at him for a full minute before suddenly dropping into a crouch with both hands on the back of his head. “Fuuuck,” he breathed. “You don’t—you just don’t know, Baby Boy.” Suddenly, in a lightning change of mood, he jumped back up and grinned. “It’ll be fun!”

Peter grinned back. “Of course,” he said. “You’re always coming along with me, so I’ll come along with you.”

“Woohoo!” Wade danced around Peter towards the door, and then shuffled back to avoid hitting Aunt May as she came in with groceries. “Oh, let me help you with that!” he said.

“You are a dear,” the old woman replied as she handed the bags she was carrying to him. “I have more in the car.”

Peter grinned. “Let me help too,” he said as he went out to the car.

After all the groceries were in and put up Aunt May invited Wade for dinner, and—for the first time since he’d woken up recovering in the house—he declined. “Sorry Aunt May,” he said cheerfully. “Spidey’s going on a job with me and I have to make sure it’s safe.” He twitched slightly. “Of course I know what recon is!” he said suddenly. “I just don’t normally bother!” He bowed, saluted, and then pulled his hood up before dancing out the door.

“Well, you certainly made him happy,” Aunt May commented. She looked at Peter and raised an eyebrow. “A job?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Wade said there’s no killing,” he said, “and I believe him.”

“Hmm.”

^^^

{Smooth, idiot. That was real smooth.}

[‘Make it safe?’ Just how are we supposed to do that? Just last week the Lizard knocked him off a building!]

“We do the best we can,” Wade said soothingly. It was something Peter had told him on one of their lunch dates.

{Date!}

[Dude, he’s way, way too young.]

“Not like that,” muttered Wade as he walked down the street.

[And why are we working for that bitch, anyway? She tried to kill us!]

“Everyone tries to kill us,” Wade argued.

[She THREW us into a VOLCANO!]

Wade winced as the words echoed against the inside of his skull. “But it wasn’t personal,” he protested.

[The hell it wasn’t!]

{Anyone else curious as to why she came to us? Considering she told us to go to Hell last time we met?}

“We have more skills than she does!”

[The only skill we have that she doesn’t is the skill not to die. Are you sure this is going to be safe for Peter?]

{Aw, relax. She’s also lazy.}

Wade reached his apartment and hauled out his maps of the city. Now, from what she’d said the object he was supposed to be collecting was in this high-security facility. All he had to do was—

There was a rap on the door. Then it turned into a vicious pounding. “Dammit Deadpool!” snarled his roommate. “Open the damn door!”

Curious as to why she needed him to open the door, he did so. His roommate, a pale young woman with hair in multiple colors, was holding one of her shoulders as blood seeped between her fingers. “You look bad,” he commented as she limped into the apartment.

“Don’t start,” she growled as she limped towards the medicine cabinet in the kitchen.

Wade saw odd purple and blue lights dancing in the spilled blood.

[That’s new.]

{Never seen that before. We sure she’s human?}

“Pretty sure she’s not,” murmured Wade as he closed the door.

“What was that?” demanded the angry voice.

“Your blood’s all sparkly!” Wade said cheerfully.

“Yeah? It’ll wear off.” Her voice lowered and she muttered to herself. “Fucking unicorns.”

{Hey look! The room’s brighter!}

Wade nodded as he looked at the literally glowing golden strands of hair next to the young woman’s head. They were the only parts not dyed. “Your hair’s glowing again,” he pointed.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” muttered the woman as she grabbed a beer with one hand, smashed the neck of the bottle against the counter, and chugged it. She pressed the cool glass to her head. “I miss home.”

“Because of your hair?”

“That too.”

Standing there it occurred to Wade that his roommate was almost as indestructible as he was. “So Carol,” he said.

“Cora,” she corrected firmly. “As in, ‘Coraline.’ As in the other person on this god-forsaken lease.” She angrily tossed her beer bottle towards the trashcan and it hit the wall where it shattered. Most of the glass went into the garbage can. Neither of them really cared to clean up the mess.

[We ever ask where she came from? Because, I think it might be important later.]

{We said we wouldn't ask if she didn’t, so we didn’t.}

“Coraline,” Wade agreed. “I’m going on a job soon.”

“Good for you.” The phone in her pocket rang, she dug it out, and answered with a single word. “No.” She put the phone on the counter. “And?” she asked.

“And Spiderman wants to tag along. There’s no killing involved,” he added.

Coraline sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Deadpool,” she said wearily, “you accepted a job.”

“Yes.”

“In New York City.”

“Yes…”

“What’s the job?”

Wade beamed behind his mask. “Object retrieval!”

Coraline closed her eyes. “Object retrieval,” she repeated.

“Yup!”

“Deadpool, did you seriously ask the spider if he could tag along on one of your jobs—the mostly law-abiding do-anything-to-help-along-the-boys-in-blue spider, I’d like to add—when it involves stealing?” She looked at him. “I’m not an expert, but that sounds like a good way to alienate him.”

[She’s right.]

{Oh, my God! What were we thinking!}

“Gotta go!” Wade said realizing there was a crap ton of research he had to do.

“Yeah yeah, good luck,” muttered Coraline as she head towards the bathroom, limps already fading.

^^^

Peter crouched in the corner overlooking the building in front of them as Wade, in full Deadpool regalia, checked an odd little compass on his wrist. “What’s that?” he asked.

“My moral compass. Just making sure I don’t lead you down the wrong path, buddy,” said the mercenary as he put the thing away.

Some of the things the man said made absolutely no sense. “All right,” he said. “So, now that your moral compass is straightened out, what’s the mission.”

“Right. So, my client, my friend, works for these people who had this—thing stolen from them by these people. Now, they called me, instead of the police, because none of them are supposed to have it.”

Peter felt his lips twitch behind his mask. He wasn’t sure if they were twitching in distaste at stealing or amusement at the way Wade was putting the situation. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. A group of people, who were not supposed to have this object—whatever it is—had it stolen by this other group of people, and the first group has hired you to steal it back for them.”

Wade nodded. “That’s it. Contract complete when said object is in her, the contract holder’s hands.”

Peter nodded. He was slightly surprised at the formal phrasing, but Wade was a mercenary. Presumably that meant he had a lot of experience with contracts. “What’s the object?” he asked.

“Some kind of book. She said I can’t miss it.”

“All right.” Peter waited. “How are we getting in?” he asked.

Wade’s head whipped towards him. “What?”

Peter held back a sigh. “Your mission,” he reminded the other man. “Your plans.”

“That is both the single best and most terrifying thing I have ever heard from you,” Wade said softly.

“So, what’s the plan?” asked Peter, both anxious to get started and to keep Wade from thinking too much.

“Plan? Right, plan. Spidey, you’re backup. I want you to stay out of sight as much as possible. These people are sneaky, and I may need super-secret backup to get back out of there.”

Peter nodded. “All right,” he agreed. The two of them went into the building.

Everything seemed normal enough at first. There seemed to be an appropriate number of guards for what was a secret priceless artifact. The security was not quite the best, but appropriate. Pretty much all Peter had to do, as Spiderman, was follow along the ceiling keeping an eye out for surprise attacks. There were a few, and he webbed those would-be attackers to the walls and floors before Deadpool even registered that there was a threat, but nothing major. And Deadpool was very careful not to actually kill any of his attackers, a fact that Peter appreciated.

Before the mission Peter and Aunt May had sat down to have a talk and Peter understood that Deadpool was a mercenary known for killing. Knew it very well, in fact. He had accepted that there might be reasons fro Deadpool would kill on this job—because he was working and it simply might not occur to him to use non-lethal force. He was prepared for that.

When they made it to an inner room, Spiderman still hanging back in the shadows providing silent support, the game changed. On a wooden table was a single, huge book. It was blue. It looked like it was glowing.

Leaning against the table was a woman. She was tall, for a woman (slightly shorter than Wade), was wearing a white dress that looked like a bunch of feathers had been sewed together, and had long, cascading blond hair. “Hello Deadpool,” the woman said in a calm voice. She was holding what looked like a bunch of Popsicle sticks tied into the vague form of a human in one hand. In the other she held what looked like a bloodstained piece of cloth. Just behind her, on the table, was a tall, wide glass of water and a second doll.

Peter’s senses went haywire. This woman, whoever she was, was bad news. Deadpool merely waved cheerfully. “Hi,” he said. “I’ve come to get that book on the table behind you, and once I get it I’ll be on my way since I don’t want to kill anyone in Spiderman’s city.”

The woman chuckled softly and Peter felt the little hairs on the back of his neck raise at the sound. “Oh, yes,” she said as she wrapped the bloodstained piece of cloth around the doll she was holding. “I’ve heard about your little—team up with the human spider.” She moved to where the doll was being dangled over the water. “I’m surprised he isn’t here now.”

Another chill ran over Peter, warning him that something was about to happen. He tensed, not knowing what to expect as he looked around the room desperately for any sign of the danger his senses said was coming. He trusted his senses explicitly.

The woman simply released the doll to where it fell in the water. Wade gasped and choked as Peter stared, not certain what was going on until water began pouring from Wade’s mouth. The man was drowning. The woman dropped the doll into the water and now Wade was drowning.

Peter dropped to grab the doll, to haul it out of the water only to be easily backhanded out of the way by the woman, her nails ripping bits of his suit. “There you are,” the woman said in satisfaction. She smiled at Peter as she pulled a thread from his suit and tied it around the other doll. The merc choked one water as the woman snapped the leg on the doll.

And Peter felt his own leg snap in response before he collapsed to the floor. He gasped as waves of pain rolled over him—but he had fought his way through worse. He’d once swung through the city to catch Norman as Green Goblin with two cracked ribs. That had been bad. This was—still bad, but not quite at those levels yet. He swallowed hard as the woman walked towards him.

“Do you give up, little spider?” asked the woman in a voice that sounded kind, but his senses warned him were anything but.

“Never.” Peter shot webbing at her, and she easily dodged with a laugh.

“You are losing your touch, little spider,” the woman said.

Peter felt his lips widen in a grin. “Am I?” he asked as he yanked on the webbing. The glass fell to the floor. It didn’t break, but the water spilled out.

“Poor little spider,” said the woman sadly as she snapped the other leg. “Just doesn’t know when to quit.” She gasped as suddenly a sword protruded through her stomach.

“Want to bet?” snarled Wade as she fell off the sword, clutching the wound in her abdomen.

A dim part of Peter’s brain that was still functioning noted that it wasn’t a kill move. Even drowning, Wade had held back. As Wade picked him up, Peter webbed the woman to the floor. He also snagged the book with another piece of webbing; no reason to leave it behind. The book sagged as Peter reeled it in. “How heavy is this thing?” he demanded.

Wade glanced at the book. “If I recognize this,” he said absently, “about sixty pounds.”

“Sixty pounds?” demanded Peter, his vision graying slightly as Wade moved him. “What exactly is it?”

“I don’t think anyone is really sure. It sort of showed up a few years ago and has been bouncing around private collections ever since.” Wade carefully carried both Peter and the book out of the building. “Shit!” he swore when they were outside. “This was supposed to be a safe mission!”

Peter couldn't help but chuckle. “I don’t think there is a such a thing,” he said. “How many buildings have you been knocked off of?”

“Yeah,” said Wade as he walked. “But that’s me. I heal. I know he does too, but not as fast!”

Peter frowned. He healed both too fast and too slow. Too fast to risk going to a regular doctor and too slow to keep up with Wade.

“Not to worry,” Wade said as he tried to keep his steps even to prevent from jolting the injured spider in his arms, “we’ll just drop off the book-it thing and then I’ll take you back to Aunt May.”

They were a ways down the alley when suddenly the building they’d escaped exploded. Peter stared at the wreckage in horror. “All those people.”

“Not your fault,” Wade said quickly. He sagged. “Mine.”

“Your fault?” Peter frowned as he mentally reviewed the mission. Had the merc planted a bomb or something without Peter noticing? No, he hadn’t. Wouldn’t. “No,” Peter said firmly. “Not your fault, either.” He turned back to the wreckage. “It must have been some kind of self destruct,” he mused.

“Must have,” echoed Wade dully. “Come on,” he said turning and sprinting down the alley. Peter clung to consciousness with all he had. Every step hurt his legs more.

It didn’t take too long for them to reach Wade’s goal. Wade propped Peter (careful about jolting the injured legs) in a shadowed area of the park before taking the book to the swing set. Peter clenched his jaw against unnecessary sounds and worked to set the legs himself. He’d learned that his bones healed faster if they were set as soon as possible.

A woman, dark hair and sensual curves, approached the swing set. “Deadpool,” she purred.

Peter frowned. Used to hearing meaning behind words he read the dark irritation in her voice. Not usually the voice used to greet a friend. He looked up warily as the woman approached. Actually—she slunk more than she approached.

“Ana. You lied to me.” Wade’s voice was hard, cold, and almost unrecognizable.

“About what?” asked the woman, Ana, Peter supposed she was called.

“About the mission,” he said. “Medium security, no powers, that’s what you told me.”

The woman shrugged. “So they hired extra help after I looked into it. Not like you can die,” she added carelessly.

Rage flickered in Peter at the tone. He grit his teeth as he started to understand Wade’s casual attitude towards injury and dying. It took all his will to stay seated where he was and not draw attention to himself.

Wade merely sighed and tossed the book to the woman—who caught it easily. “That’s my friend,” the woman purred.

Peter had heard enough. He got up, barely registering the sharp pains in both legs, and strode over before webbing the book to her hand and the rest of her to the swings. “That,” he said grimly to the woman, “is no way to be. You can’t base ‘friendship’ on favors. That’s not how it works,” he told her before pulling his phone out.

“Spidey, what are you doing?” asked Wade.

“Look, you said the contract was complete when she was holding the book. She’s holding the book. Contract complete,” Peter grumbled as he dialed. “It’s me,” he told the operator. “Came across what looked like a shady deal at the park.” He rattled off the park’s address. “The buyer is webbed. The seller?” He turned to look at Wade and firmly added, “The seller got away.” He looked back at the woman as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. “They’ll be here in twenty minutes,” he told her. He took off quickly.

Wade loped off after him. “Hey, what?” he asked the hero.

Peter stopped for a moment and then looked at the merc. “All right, listen,” he told the man. “If something happened and you did kill someone in the city—we’d still be friends. Granted, we’d be friends with distance because I wouldn't be able to let you stay in the city—but we’d still be friends. It’s not dependent on you doing anything for me.”

The Deadpool mask stared at him for a moment, eerily still. Then he pointed down. “Do you realize you’re walking on broken legs?” he asked.

“What?” Peter looked down and stared as he gently stomped his feet against the ground. “Oh—huh.”

The two continued on their way. “You need to figure out how to do that on purpose,” Wade told him as he locked fingers behind his head.

“I wouldn't even know where to start,” Peter said wearily.

Later, the two men would find out that their mysterious adversary was known as The Witch. They found that out—the same time they found out that there was no female body found in the explosion.