#is she summer? is she fall? is she a secret third thing?

[rachelhankeart]

Had an absolute blast working on this dtiys from @raya158 over on instagram 💖🧡💛

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Five

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Physical injury (i.e., Rhys and Cassian recovering post-Koschei), fluff, mating ceremonyyyyyyyyy (y'all I'm so excited I got so emotional writing this one)

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It was strange how the absence of things could be so obvious. How silence could be more obnoxious than a crowded room. 

Three weeks had passed since Koschei’s death, and everyone was afraid to bring attention to the glaring absence of Cassian’s arm and Rhysand’s wings. 

At every meal, Nesta carefully cut up the Lord of Bloodshed’s food, and every night, Rhysand winnowed up to his bedroom. He no longer needed a wheelchair to move around, but walking up the stairs was a battle he won only half the time.

Azriel’s shadows were still missing. Gone to the wind. But their whispers grew in strength each day and Azriel would strain his ear to hear them. It gave you both hope that they’d return in time. 

“Daddy.” 

Rhysand froze halfway up the stairs, leaning against the wall with his legs crossed at the ankles. He subtly hid his hand behind his back, concealing the cane he relied on to walk around his own home. 

“Yes, Nyx.” 

The boy stood with his mother, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. Her wings were on full display, as were Nyx’s, in preparation for their daily flying lessons. For the first time, Rhysand would be unable to join them.

“We’re going flying. Do you… do you want to watch?” Nyx smiled shyly, one arm wrapped around his mother’s leg as he stared at the ground. “I can finally summon my wings during free fall. Just like we practiced.”

Rhysand strained to smile. “Go ahead with your mother. I’ll join you on the balcony soon.” 

“Ok,” the boy murmured and walked down the hall towards his parents’ bedroom. 

Feyre moved to be with her husband, her wings disappearing in a melting of light. She gently cupped his face in her hands. 

“It’s ok, my love,” Rhysand whispered, kissing her palms. Feyre smoothed back the swoop of hair that fell over his forehead. The strands were damp with sweat. “I don’t want you to keep Nyx waiting.” 

“Nyx is a patient boy. More patient than his father.” 

Rhys chuckled, blinking away tears. It was silly to hide these emotions from Feyre — she felt everything he did — but he wanted to at least try to be strong. To be her equal. Her High Lord. 

“Take your time, Rhys.” Her lips brushed against his and a piece of that ache in his chest fizzled out. It was incredible how his mate and wife could ease his burden with such a small touch. “I’ll be waiting with our son.” 

The moment Feyre disappeared into their bedroom and shut the door, Rhysand snapped his cane in half. Wood splinters flew out, embedding themselves in the wall and in the staircase, and he threw what remained down the stairs. 

Feyre, with all her love and patience, gave him the space to be angry. To grieve. But it helped her to know that Cassian, Azriel, and Emerie were already on their way. 

Rhysand made it to the third floor landing without his cane before the pain in his back became impossible to ignore. He sank to the floor. 

“Rhys—” The trio crowded around him. 

“Don’t say a fucking word, Cass.” They froze beside him, tucking their wings in tight. “I used to think the steps to the House of Wind were hard. Now I can’t even climb the stairs in my own fucking house.”

He hated this. He hated this with a burning passion. He was meant to be High Lord. He should have been at Feyre’s side, shaking out his wings and getting ready to taste the wind with his son. Instead here he was, sweat-soaked and shaking in front of his brothers and Emerie. 

After his mother and Selene’s death, he’d promised himself he would never lose his wings. They were a physical reminder of his Illyrian heritage. A heritage which so often went unseen beneath the veneer of a High Lord. Decades spent Under the Mountain had only cemented that promise in blood and salt. 

Amarantha may have stolen many things from him, but she’d never taken his wings. She’d never touched them. She’d never even seen them. 

Poison-laced calls of Amarantha’s whore and half-breed had always paled in comparison to the freedom of flying. A freedom he no longer had. 

“I’m not an Illyrian anymore,” Rhysand whispered grimly. The muscles in his back rolled, and even that small movement sent a thread of pain down his spine.  

Cassian and Azriel were stunned into silence. But not Emerie. Her gaze was too piercing, her tone too frank and unrelenting as she said, “My mother died without her wings.” 

Rhysand looked up at the female, slender and sharp as a blade. 

“At thirty-seven years old her father took a butcher’s knife and hacked them off before burying them in the snow just outside Windhaven.” She cocked her head to the side. “Tell me, was she not an Illyrian then?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” Rhysand said pathetically. 

“It’s exactly what you meant. But you’re wrong. Your wings don’t make you an Illyrian, Rhys. If they did, myself and over half the females in those camps would have been banished from Illyria a long time ago.” 

There was a silence that followed, tense and filled with guilt until Emerie spoke again. 

“Do you know what they say about you in the camps? And I’m not talking about the males who whisper half-breed behind your back.” 

Rhysand took his head. 

“The young females whisper about the day you’ll find them worthy enough to steal away to Velaris — to your precious city you’d never let come to harm. They talk about the shops they’d get to see with the frosted cakes in the windows and the enchanted houses where they wouldn’t have to slave away over a stove or wring towels until their hands bled. That one day, you’ll recognize that they’re dreamers too who’ve only had their worst nightmares come true. The older ones are wiser than that. They don’t talk about escaping to a city they don’t know and don’t love, surrounded by strangers who might call them lesser-fae. They build their lives in the cold, and when the males come to burn it down, they either endure and build it up again, or they fight back however they can.” 

Emerie regarded him carefully, eyes halting on his violet eyes and the sharpness of his ears. 

“Wings don’t make you an Illyrian,” she repeated, “It’s in your blood. It’s what you're born into and the hands that raise you. Never say “I’m not an Illyrian” again, do you understand me?”

Rhysand swallowed the burning lump in his throat. Touched the short tips of his ears and wiped the tears gathering in his violet eyes. 

“Azriel, could you—could you bring me my cane? Please?” 

His brother walked down the steps without hesitation and retrieved the broken halves. 

It was a thing of beauty and strength, carved from ironwood and stained so dark it may as well have been sliced from a night sky. Rhysand put the two pieces together and closed his eyes. 

It was easy, miniscule magic to put the cane back together and far more difficult a feat to stand upright once again. He might have toppled backwards if not for Emerie. She gave him her shoulder to lean against.

“Still an Illyrian,” he murmured. 

It was a promise to himself and to his family. To the three Illyrian warriors who had found him. 

“Still an Illyrian.” Emerie patted his arm. “I understand you’ll still feel some self-pity for a while. It’s natural, but… try not to do it in a room I’m in.” 

“I can do that.” Rhysand leaned against his cane, limping towards his bedroom where his mate and son were waiting. “Oh and Emerie.” She turned her head towards him. “Thank you.” 

“Do you want me to just cut it for you?” 

“No, I like the way Nesta does it.” 

“Since when did you get so picky?” 

“Since I lost my fucking arm, Mor.” 

You snorted into your glass of wine and Azriel smiled as the pair continued bickering. He kept one hand under the table, rubbing small circles into your thigh. It wasn’t until Nesta decided to grace the early morning with her presence that Cassian turned his attention away from Mor, drawing Nesta down for a kiss. 

A fresh bruise painted his cheekbone purple, pink, and blue. 

Nesta gripped Cassian’s chin, turning his face to the side for a better look. “Who did this?”

“Emerie,” he said cheerfully. His grin was brighter than the sun. 

Today was the first time he’d sparred with anyone since he lost his arm and Emerie hadn’t gone easy on him. On the contrary, she’d taken every advantage her two arms afforded her until Cassian felt more tender than a steak on a butcher’s board. He hadn’t been thrown on his back so many times since the mating frenzy. 

It was a dirty, cunning way of fighting and he’d never appreciated the Illyrian female more. 

Nesta smirked at her friend with a glint in her eye that looked suspiciously like gratitude. 

Emerie only shrugged. She hadn’t experienced the same kind of loss that Cassian and Rhysand had, but she’d learned a great deal after her wing clipping. Carrying limbs that no longer worked was not so different from losing them entirely. It was all about a shifting of control and weight — about finding a new center of gravity and using weakness to your advantage. 

“Did you go easy on him?” Nesta asked. 

Emerie snorted. “Obviously not.”

“She fractured three ribs, but they’re healed now.” 

“Very nice.” 

Nesta settled down at her rightful seat beside Cassian and wordlessly cut up his breakfast. 

“Thanks, Nes.” 

“It’s the least I could do.” 

Cassian chuckled and pulled her close until she was nearly in his lap. “Don’t give me so much power, darling.” 

She huffed. “What power?”

“The power to win any argument in the future.” He stuck what remained of his right arm into the air and gave it a shake. It was a gentle, teasing reminder of who had cut it off in the first place. 

Nesta narrowed her eyes until they were two clips of ice. “Don’t make me regret letting you live.” 

“That’s much better.” 

Some people needed a gentle touch after horrible events, but there was nothing gentle about Cassian. He’d been born with the wild in his blood. He knew how to adapt and survive, and if surviving meant he would lose his arm and get more time with his mate, it was a trade he was more than happy to make.

Azriel seemed to be in agreement. He never took his eyes off you. More interested in seeing your reaction than hearing which comment had brought it to life.

Feyre nudged Rhys, eyes wide and eyebrows raised as she looked back and forth from her mate to you and Azriel. 

Now? Rhys asked. 

Yes, now! They’ve been staring at each other for the last thirty minutes. It’s honestly unnerving... Do you think they’ve already accepted the bond?

There’s no way in hell. We would have known. 

Azriel’s terribly good at keeping secrets. 

The fact that they haven’t been missing the last few months is proof enough. 

All the more reason to bring this up now so we can finally put them out of their misery. 

Feyre shot to her feet at the head of the table and Rhysand scrambled to attention after  her. 

“It has come to our attention that we never did say congratulations to a special couple in this room.”

“Oh gods,” Azriel muttered. 

Your face turned warm as everyone’s eyes and grins fell upon you and your mate.

“You didn’t think we forgot about your mating bond, did you?” Gwyn teased. 

“We were kind of hoping you had,” you said. “Not that we aren’t happy or—” You glanced over at Azriel. 

The first night you’d woken up in the Dawn Court you’d tried to crawl into his bones — an odd mixture of desperation and longing urging you to have your way with one other. Now, you were embarrassed to think that the first thing you’d tried to do after nearly dying, was sleep with your mate. 

Azriel smiled, bending towards you like a flower seeking sunlight in silent encouragement. It was such a small, natural gesture, and one that everyone noticed. Which also meant they clocked the blush on your cheeks as you gripped Azriel’s hand under the table. 

You cleared your throat. “We weren’t sure it was a good time with everything going on. We thought it might be wise to wait before—” 

“No more waiting!” Cassian declared, slamming his fist against the table so hard the silverware bounced. “I swear to the fucking gods, if you’re not in the frenzy by the end of the week, Y/n, I’ll have you force feed Azriel myself.” 

“We agreed we’d be gentle in our approach,” Elain reminded him. 

“There was a plan in place for this?” Lucien sputtered. “And you were a part of it?” 

She scoffed and lightly slapped his arm. Elain was a gentle, lovely creature when she wanted to be, and nothing melted her heart more than a good love story. 

“I think we are in need of a celebration,” Vassa whispered. It was the first collection of words the firebird had spoken in months. 

She’d sat for every meal at Lucien’s side completely silent. But this time, she reached a hand across the table and slid it into yours, squeezing tightly. Flashes of memory passed behind her eyes — memories of Jurian.

They weren’t fae. A mating bond was never in the cards for them. Which was why she felt strongly that you should be greedy with the time you had together. For there was no telling when it would end.

You sucked in a breath. You’d spoken at length about this with Azriel, tossing ideas back and forth during the night when the bond made your blood sing for more contact with the Shadowsinger. More touches.  

But you’d agreed that it was inappropriate to have even a private mating ceremony when everyone was hurting. To abandon them and disappear into the frenzy. 

Perhaps you’d both been wrong. 

Given how quick everyone was to swarm you and Azriel, you were definitely wrong. 

Rhysand hobbled over with his cane, kissing your cheek with a loud, obnoxious smack before aggressively disheveling Azriel’s hair. 

“The cottage—” Azriel began.

“I’ll have it finished by tonight.” Rhysand promised. 

Cassian threw his one good arm around Azriel’s shoulder, tugging him out of his chair and towards the door on a mission. Poor Lucien was also coerced into joining whatever debauchery Cassian had planned for their afternoon. He sulked after the pair with Rhysand. 

Nesta, Feyre, and Mor crowded around you, already deliberating which of the many-frequented boutiques in Velaris they would need to visit for your mating ceremony attire. 

You were positively overwhelmed by the attention and the realization that this was all happening. 

By midnight, you would be mated to the love of your life. 

Azriel slipped out from under Cassian’s arm, racing back across the room and falling to his knees. “I need a moment with you.” He breathed, thinly-veiled hunger in his eyes. 

One nod was all it took before he was guiding you to the kitchen and slamming the door on everyone’s whistling. 

Azriel pressed you against the kitchen door, chest heaving so hard you could feel every beat of his heart against your chest. 

You’d both been holding back with each other ever since returning to the Night Court. Propriety and respect for his brothers had demanded you wait to express your love and wanting. You didn’t want to slap them in the face with joy. 

But now that you had everyone’s overwhelming approval, well… Azriel was finding it nearly impossible to wait even a moment longer. 

He pressed his lips to yours and didn’t let go of his soft grip on your waist until you were both gasping for breath. But then you kissed him back, swallowing his sighs and gentle groans like there was honey on his tongue. Sweet and addictive and—

Rhysand rudely knocked on the door, his sultry voice a purr. “In the kitchen, Azriel? Really? I would have expected more from a gentleman like you.” 

“Fuck off, Rhys.” 

The High Lord chuckled, but slipped away all the same. 

Azriel grinned against your lips, your hands clasped together between your bodies. “I just wanted one last kiss before tonight.” 

“Tonight.” You nodded frantically. 

Tonight. 

You were doing this. You were really doing this. 

Then you realized what he’d said. “I won’t see you before then?”

“I don’t think the others will let us.” 

Your laughs rang in the air, bouncing off the kitchen cabinets like wedding bells. 

On the other side of your door you could feel everyone’s anticipation. And you couldn't keep them waiting much longer. They might just break down the door. 

“I’ll see you tonight.” You whispered before stealing one last kiss. 

“Tonight.” Azriel agreed. His breath curled around your ear, lips brushing against the tip as he promised, “Until then.”

Feyre, Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, Elain, and Mor descended upon the Palace of Thread and Jewels, all too eager to heap your arms full of the most expensive lace money could buy. 

You were about to marry into the Night Court and had a High Lord father who needed to make up for centuries of fatherly absence. There was more than enough gold to throw around.

“What do you think of this?” Feyre asked, draping the pale blue silk over your shoulder.

The clothier’s shop was bustling in the late morning, but no one dared step foot into the private room your family was set up in. The enchanted curtain blocked out all noise — tthe pinnacle of privacy.

You stood alone on a low platform, swishing the skirts of your dress and imagining what the finished product might look like. 

Farron, the clothier, had been quick to stitch a muslin mock up of the design you’d chosen, knotted fingers shocking in their dexterity as needle and thread disappeared and reappeared in her hand like some trick of the eye. She hadn’t even taken your measurements. One spin with your arms outstretched and she’d set about cutting the exact length of material needed for your mating ceremony gown. 

It was no wonder that she was Rhysand’s preferred clothier.

It still felt like a dream. Some wonderful, impossible dream as you took in the sight of the fabric over your chest. 

It glistened like moonlight and flowed like river water.

“Feyre, it’s perfect,” You breathed, touching the silken threads beneath your fingertips. 

“An excellent choice,” Farron said with a smile. She stood dutifully off to the side, tortoise-rimmed glasses growing her eyes to bug-like proportions.

You were a lovely thing in her eyes. A fine match for the Shadowsinger, indeed. 

Now, no one had told her that that was the cause for celebration. But she’d been clothing the Night Court males for a long while and knew them like the back of her hand. And you? You were made for the Shadowsinger. That much was clear. 

It was from centuries of experience that she classified the soft parting of your mouth and wide eyes. It was the look mates and brides alike adopted when they’d found the perfect dress. The one that would make them feel as perfect and precious as a pearl.

Your brows furrowed in concern. “My mating ceremony is tonight. Will it be ready by then?”

“Pfffft.” The clothier slapped her chest indignantly. “It will be ready in three hours time. You can return once after you’ve finished your shopping and we’ll have a final ceremony look ready for you, my dear.” 

With a dress being sewn together at Farron’s, Mor hurried you along to what she believed was the most critical part of any mating ceremony dress — the lingerie. The ordeal left a permanent blush on your cheeks as you quickly moved on to the shoemaker and then the jeweler. 

“Which one did you decide on?” Mor asked once again. She trailed at your heels, resting her chin on your shoulder as you kept your wares clutched to your chest. 

“I’m not telling you.” 

“Why not?” She whined. Red fingernails grazed the tissue paper that peaked out from the edges of the lingerie box. 

“Because that is for Azriel to know, and only Azriel,” you said, snatching the box out of her grasp. 

Nesta laughed. “What does it matter which pair she’s picked? It’s not like it will survive the first night of the frenzy.” 

Your cheeks burned with color. 

Mor giggled at your shyness. “Don’t act coy now, Y//n. We all know what you four read in your free time.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t benefit, love.” Emerie teased, squeezing Mor’s hip. 

“I never suggested such a thing.” 

Gwyn gagged when they kissed and everyone broke apart into fits of laughter in the streets, leaning against shoulders and stumbling on the cobblestones as they caught their breath. 

You were pressed in on all sides by familiar bodies, a comforting mixture of perfumes, and the sounds of laughter.

It’s happening. It’s really happening. 

Your grin could have put the sun to shame as you bounced on your heels in front of the mirror. 

Pale blue silk dipped down to the center of your chest and fell off your shoulders like mist. Wide, airy sleeves hovered at your elbows, ending in curls of hand-woven lace. A pair of ribbon-tie shoes and ear-tip cuffs completed the ensemble. 

They were both blue for Azriel — for your mate — who currently stood awestruck by the door. 

You didn’t startle when you caught a sliver of his reflection in the mirror. In fact, you were rather pleased to see his slack jaw and glistening eyes. 

“What do you think?” You asked as Azriel slipped out from the darkness and into your old bedroom. 

You hardly stepped foot in here anymore. Azriel’s bedroom had solidly become yours. Your clothes were mixed in with his. Your perfume bottles and soaps lined his bathroom. Your scent was tied to his bed, or rather your bed. 

“I think… I think you’re a dream, Y/n.” He spoke with a sigh. 

He melted into the curve of your neck, hands ghosting over your shoulders with a feather-light touch. 

He shook his head, as if disappointed. 

“No,” he corrected himself, “You’re far better than a dream because you’re real, and I can’t believe you’re mine.” 

“I could say the same about you,” you whispered. 

You leaned back against his chest and breathed deeply, feeling your heart soothe itself to the rhythm of his breathing and the scent of mountain air and cedar trees. 

He was beautiful. Black velvet encased his broad shoulders, cutting out a silhouette of pitch black night and highlighting the glow of his hazel eyes — like two chips of amber aglow in a dark wood. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from staring and threading your fingers into his soft, black curls, eliciting a soft groan from his lips that had your blood stirring to life. 

“I thought we were supposed to meet downstairs.” 

Azriel smiled. “I selfishly wanted to be the first to see you.” 

“That’s not selfish at all,” You hummed. You began tracing the gold cuffs that spanned the length of his ears and the subtle embroidery at the wrists and front of his shirt. They were distinctly Day Court fashions, and he wore them well. “These are new.” 

“I may or may not have reached out to your father for advice when picking out my clothes.” 

“I like them. Day Court colors suit you. They bring out the gold flecks in your eyes.” 

Azriel smiled, kissing the curve of your ears and playing with the sapphire necklace clasped around your neck. The drag of metal and fingertips over your chest had you shivering.  

You gently tugged at his hair and he obeyed the unspoken command to lean down and capture your lips in a kiss. Soft sounds spilled from both of you as he walked you back towards the wall and gently pressed you against it, flatting his hands by the sides of your head. 

Azriel got lost in the taste of you. Your hands in his hair. The feeling of your hips flush against his. Every movement was subtle, but eager, in its wanting and Azriel knew that when he finally had you beneath him, he’d be ruined… If he wasn’t ruined already. 

There was another reason he’d wanted to see you first before relinquishing you to the formalities of a mating ceremony. 

He’d been on edge all day, unused to being the unbridled center of attention among his brothers. Cassian was brash and loud, Rhysand flirtatious and passionate. Even Lucien radiated an undeniable charisma that made him popular within crowds. 

But Azriel had always prized quiet and peace above all else. He wanted to feel that peace again. 

The bond rose within him like high tide, spilling color and light into his chest as you pressed your forehead against his and cradled the curve of his neck. 

He breathed deep and he breathed freely, feeling something in his soul mend itself with a roll of anticipation. A tendril of cold wrapped around his ear and whispered in a language only Azriel could understand.

Too long, master. It’s been too long.

Azriel’s eyes flew open. He’d nearly forgotten the shape of their words — the language that he’d been taught to speak after years spent in the dark. Months of soft spoken words he could barely make out became a chorus of congratulations as they sensed the connection that now bound you and Azriel together. 

They’d known about it since the beginning, but now that you were also aware, they were ecstatic.

Black shadows spilled out from his skin, eagerly wrapping you up in a shell of twisting darkness. They embraced you, kissing your cheeks with cool, feathery touches. 

Azriel swallowed your laughter, hands diving down and lifting up your dress so he could squeeze your thighs and wrap your legs around him. 

It was a kiss made of teeth and longing and relief. With his shadows having returned and a mating bond ready to be accepted, Azriel felt invincible. Like he was cradling the world in his arms. 

But it was ended all too soon by a shadow in his ear that warned, They’re almost at the door. 

Gods he missed having them around. 

You gasped, picking up on the sound of Lucien and Helion’s strong footsteps coming towards the door. They were supposed to walk you downstairs before handing you off to your mate, and although Azriel had made leaps and bounds in earning their blessing you didn’t think they’d take kindly to seeing the Shadowsinger flush between your legs just before your mating ceremony. 

“Shit.” You hissed, untangling yourself from Azriel as he fixed your dress and struggled to hide his laughter. 

You pushed him backwards, masking both your scents and shoving him inside the wardrobe. 

“My Y/n, what are you doing?” Azriel asked. He needed to bend just to fit inside the empty wardrobe. His eyes glittered with amusement, shadows pooling around his wings. 

“I-I was going to try and hide you before my father and brother come inside but” — a handful of shadows curled around your wrists and ankles, intent on becoming permanent fixtures for as long as you were separated from your mate —  “I see that’s not necessary anymore.” 

Azriel grinned and pulled you in for one last kiss. “I’ll see you downstairs,” he whispered just as Lucien’s polite knock came at the door.  

“I’ll see you downstairs.” 

His shadows swirled around him and he melted into the darkness. 

Mating ceremonies were fluid, adaptable affairs. They could be as extravagant and public or as humble and private as one desired. It made no difference. You were his, and he was yours. Now and forever. 

You would have accepted the bond with Azriel in your father’s palace or in a desert wasteland. Still, you had to agree that home was best. 

The largest room in the River House — the dining room — had been cleared out for the purpose of your mating ceremony. Candlelight flickered atop the fireplace mantle where you, Azriel, and the priestess stood, and within sconces dripping with wisteria and baby’s breath along the wall. The light of a thousand lanterns, gauzy and warm, lit up the gardens outside the House.

“All kneel,” the priestess said, holding out two crowns of lavender and lilies of the valley. 

Everyone kneeled in a loose half-circle. 

Her dusty blue robes brushed against the floor as she placed the crown atop Azriel’s head and then yours. At her instruction, you shifted on the floor, facing each other with smiles that couldn’t be contained.

Azriel’s eyes burned bright, as if all the gold in the world had been distilled and dropped into them. 

You took the candles the priestess held out, holding them in your left hand and clasping together your right. 

Azriel snuck a quick kiss to your palm before the priestess could wrap your wrists and hands together with ribbons of blue and gold. She drifted her fingers over the candles and lit them with a flourish. 

Before the Mother, the priestess, and your family, you exchanged your vows. 

Secret glances passed between you and the Shadowsinger. Brief smiles tugged at the corners of your lips. Squeezing hands soothed your soul and grounded you in the present as you spoke the words together:

I give to you the hands of a warrior, lover, friend, and mate, till the darkness comes and our endings wake. 

I give to you my name, to hold on your lips and to pass on your years in hope and longing, in joy and tears.

Blood of blood. Bone of bone. I shall be yours, and you shall be mine. 

Until we return to the earth and hear the Mother’s song. Until the end of our days—

“Until death and beyond,” Azriel whispered the final vows. 

“Until death and beyond,” you replied. 

“Who the hell spilled the champagne!” 

The floor was already sticky with it, grabbing onto Rhysand’s shoes as he stepped out of the puddle. A guilty Feyre chugged the last dregs in the bottle, magicking away the spill with a snap of her fingers and a sultry wink towards her mate. She shrieked with laughter when Rhys limped over to her, collapsing around her shoulders and blowing kisses against her neck. 

Nyx sat at Amren’s feet on the floor, struggling to hold his violet eyes open as she scratched his head with her silver-tipped nails. Amren was not one for parties and regarded the room with bored eyes. 

Mor sat in the seat of honor — Emerie’s lap — whispering gossip in the Illyrian’s ear as you and Azriel tried to make yourselves sparse in the corner. 

You were half-hidden behind Azriel’s wings as he leaned his head against your shoulder. Leave it to you two to hide at your own mating ceremony. 

Lucien and Elain drank wine by the kitchen. She left her hand comfortably on his upper arm and smiled when he tucked a strand of wavy brown hair behind her ear. They were a handsome couple — all pale colors and golden gazes, like sunshine spilling over a new day. 

Helion, entertaining as always, dazzled the group that had assembled around him composed of Gwyn, Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, and Nesta. Every so often his bright eyes would land on you and he’d wink before pointing threateningly in Azriel’s direction. 

Azriel’s shoulders shook with silent laughter and he dipped his lips to your ears and asked, “Do you think he’ll ever approve of me?”

“He already approves of you, he just doesn’t want you to know.” 

“He’s a smart male for keeping such a secret. My ego may grow too big for you to handle if he compliments me outright.” 

“Didn’t he once invite you to his bed?”

“That’s not very special coming from Helion.” 

You burst out laughing, attracting everyone’s attention as you buried your face in Azriel’s chest to stifle the noise. He laughed aloud as well. Head thrown back, chest and shoulders shaking. It was a full-bodied laugh that harmonized with yours as he wrapped his arms around you and rubbed your back. 

Azriel’s laughter had once been a rare sound, but you drew it out of him so easily, like a musician with their instrument. 

Feyre grinned and clapped her hands together. All at once the dining room rearranged itself. The candle flames grew brighter. A table laden with food and chairs popped into existence. 

For such a special occasion, you and Azriel sat at the head of the table, subtly leaning against one another with your legs tangled beneath the tablecloth as you ate.

There was a cake still waiting to be cut in the kitchen — a cake that you’d baked with Azriel’s name written all over it in invisible ink. 

Nyx twisted around in his chair, eyes utterly fixated on the seemingly endless rows of lanterns glowing in the garden. 

“Mom.” Nyx tugged on Feyre’s wrist as she cleaned his cheek. “When will I get to float the lanterns?” 

Feyre looked to you and Azriel. 

The lanterns were an old Day Court tradition. On the longest night of the year, Day Court citizens dared to step outside into the dark and light up the sky with their own sun-painted lanterns. It was a way to keep the darkness at bay for a little while longer. A time to add your own light to the night sky. 

“Now,” you smiled. “Let’s do it now.” 

You all spilled out into the gardens, cheering Nyx on as he raced ahead of everyone else with short, energetic strides. His wings flared out behind him, catching the name of the wind as it whispered against the velvety membrane. 

“Not yet!” Rhys reminded him. “You need to let your aunt and uncle go first.” 

You and Azriel picked up the largest lantern of them all, delicate rice paper crinkling as you held it up. The starburst-shaped lantern glowed faintly. A burning sun. A fallen star.

Everyone bent over in the flowers and grasses, hunting to find the second-best lantern for themselves. 

“This one’s for Velaria,” Nyx said, holding up a small, round orb. “This one’s for you, Daddy.” A pale lavender lantern was placed carefully in his father’s hand. “And this one’s for Mommy.” 

“Why thank you, honey.” Feyre bent low, kissing her son’s velvety black hair as she held Velaria in her arms. 

“Is everyone ready?” You called out. 

Cheers sounded from all around. Particularly energetic whoops came from Cassian and Mor, who tipped back their heads and howled like wolves, ready to throw their lanterns to the sky. 

Azriel tucked you beneath the curve of his wings and pressed a gentle kiss against your temple before you both let your magic seep into the lantern and sent it skywards. 

There was chatter from all sides. Soft gasps leaving open-mouth stares as a dozen lanterns started drifting upwards like miniature suns. 

“It’s all you, Nyx!” Azriel shouted. 

The boy leapt into action, finding the tallest patch of ground in the garden to make his directorial debut. He fixed the tilt of his bowtie and bent his knees. Slowly and dramatically he curled his fingers, raising his hands upwards like he meant to pull water out of the ground. 

He looked like an orchestra conductor leading his players in a great crescendo as the remaining one-thousand lanterns took off into the night sky. 

You gasped and flung your hands up to your lips. Three hundred and forty-three years you’d been alive, and this was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen. 

You turned to Azriel only to find that he was already staring at you — at the light of a thousand suns reflected in your eyes. 

You found yourself proven wrong, and not for the first time. The lanterns were only the second most beautiful sight… and you wanted to see more.

Azriel read the idea forming in your mind and nodded. 

Without hesitation, you took his hand, slinking through the now darkening garden as everyone else’s attention was directed towards the sky. 

Lanterns arced through the darkness, staining the sky warm orange as if a painter had swept her brush over the black canvas. 

Shadows nipped at your heels and covered your tracks, urging you onward as you slipped back into the House and then the kitchen. 

You didn’t even bother cutting the cake. After rummaging around in the kitchen drawers for a spoon, you carved out a spoonful of chocolate cake with strawberries and a healthy dollop of whipped cream frosting — Azriel’s favorite. 

The Shadowsinger froze, eyes darting back and forth between the cake and your flushed face. Your eyes glowed in the dim light, marked by a quiet, otherworldly beauty Azriel had never been able to resist. 

“Don’t tell me you’re second guessing this now?” You breathed, moving the spoon closer to his lips. 

“I just… I just want to make sure I remember everything about tonight,” he whispered. 

He adjusted the crown of lavender and lilies on your head, picking up a loose flower petal that had drifted onto your bare shoulders. His touch was soft. Gentle. Reverent as he trailed his fingers up your neck and brushed his thumb along your jaw. 

His lips closed around the spoon, dragging off every crumb and lick of frosting while never taking his eyes off of you. 

It was probably a delicious cake, but all Azriel would remember was the taste of your lips that followed as he drew you to his body. 

When the bond had first snapped for him, he thought the world had cracked in two. Like the sharp clap of lightning across the sky. 

What followed after the sugar and chocolate melted on his tongue was the thunder — a resounding tremor as the bond glowed hot as iron before cooling into something permanent and unbreakable. 

Azriel let out a breathless noise. Something between a sigh and a shudder. He clutched your back, nails dragging lightly along your exposed skin in a way that had you melting. 

“I want to go. Now.” You rasped. 

You wanted him desperately. More than words could describe. 

Azriel scooped you up into his arms, and together you vanished into the shadows before anyone even realized you were missing.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

Y'all, I just love Y/n and Azriel so much...

THEY FUCKING DESERVE A PROPER MATING CEREMONY LIKE DAMNIT THEY BOTH NEARLY DIED LIKE 3X AND YES I'M GOING TO WRITE A SEX SCENE NEXT CHAPTER, I DON'T CARE, THEY DESERVE THIS, Y'ALL DESERVE THIS FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME FOR THE LAST 6 MONTHS AND OVER 100K WORDS LIKE YOU ARE THE TRUE MVPs AND I APPRECIATE YOU IMMENSELY!!! (*but also, if you're not into reading smut scenes, I'll write the next chapter in such a way that you can just skip over it and not miss anything continuity-wise)

THANK YOU FOR READING!

We're almost at the end I've got like two chapters left, one of which is already mostly written, and maybe the epilogue will be it's own thing or part of the last chapter i don't know and just UGH it's almost over... ok i'm going to end this author's note here because I'm getting sad just thinking about this fic ending

^^ my reaction when I realize I've almost finished the longest/most intensive writing project in my life born out of love for the romantasy genre

^^ my reaction when I realize I've almost finished the longest/most intensive writing project in my life born out of love for the romantasy genre

[boldlyvoid]

Falling For You.

[REQUEST] spencer reid x BAU!reader but they're in a secret relationship, and basically she gets him to watch all these romcoms, so when he makes a reference to something like Notting Hill or You've Got Mail and then the whole secret is blown.

warnings: mentions of lila archer, spoilers for 90s/2000s rom-coms, co-workers to lovers, love confessions, implied smut, secret relationships.

word count: 2.4k

It was no secret that the newest team member had a thing for romantic comedies. From the little jokes she made with Penelope to the quote from Pretty Woman on her travel mug, she was a walking Rom-Com reference.

Hotch understood some of the references, JJ would talk her ear off about her favourites, and even Emily and Derek would jokingly re-enact that scene from When Harry Met Sally every time they had a team lunch. It was only Spencer who didn’t get the jokes, and after having to explain them all to him 1 too many times, she finally invited him over to watch some. 

The first one they watched together was Can’t Buy Me Love. Patrick Dempsey, a loveable nerd has been saving up all summer to buy the telescope of his dreams when the girl next door accidentally ruins her mom's favourite dress and needs to buy a replacement… he ends up buying it for her on the condition that she pretends to date him so his Senior Year can be his best year yet. Spencer likes the movie overall, he wishes someone in his high school took enough pity on him to make him popular. But his favourite scene is when they go to the abandoned airplane graveyard and watch the stars in his homemade telescope. 

“I can make one of those,” Spencer whispers to her. 

“Really?” 

He nods, “It would be pretty easy… maybe we could go star gazing someday too?” He asks, biting the bullet and making this movie date the first of many dates they’d go on. 

—

The next movie they watch is Never Been Kissed. Drew Barrymore is a nerdy reporter who goes undercover at a high school and gets to relive her teen years while falling in love for the first time. Spencer likes this one because he can relate, he never had his first kiss until well into his 20s… and she was an actress, too. When he explains that to Y/N she can’t believe it, but he has the magazine photos of them saying goodbye after the case to prove it. 

“Have you kissed many people since then?” She asks, wishing he’d move a little closer to her and steal one. 

He nods, “a few.” 

“anyone good?” 

He shakes his head, “no, I’m saving the best kiss for last.” 

She looks puzzled? “What?” 

“My best kiss will be from the girl I end up marrying,” he gives her a smile and moves his hand over to hold hers. 

“Oh,” she bites back a smile and looks down at their interlocked fingers. “Have you at least met her yet?” 

“I think so…” 

“Well, then shouldn’t you kiss her to find out if she’s the right one?” She teases, leaning into his space even more. 

“I suppose you’re right,” he teases, he cups her face with his free hand and rubs his thumb over her cheek, “are you sure you’re okay with this?” 

She nods and leans in all the way this time. Effectively pressing their lips together. And even for a first kiss, it sure does feel different. It feels like her last first kiss ever. 

—

Keeping it a secret at work is hard when all they want to do is stare at each other with googly-eyes, they’ve fallen head over heels for each other and not told a single soul. No one knows about their movie dates or their real dates either. No one knows they’ve spent a whole night kissing or that they really, really, don’t mind sharing the hotel room with the two queen beds. And they definitely don’t know that they only slept in the one. Together. The whole week they were away. 

After the case ends, they head back to her apartment for their mandated 48 hours off with the pan to watch as many movies as they can. 

The third movie they watch is You’ve Got Mail. 

“Rival bookstore owners hate each other in real life, yet on the internet manage to fall madly in love with one another. Based on an older movie called The Shop Around The Corner, it’s a beloved story brought to life once again by the one and only Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.” 

She explains every movie like this before they put it on. He’s honestly only watching them because he loves listening to her talk about them. 

“You see, they both have partners in real life but they email each other every day, as friends… but you know what it's like in movies like these,” she smirks. “Best friends who have a lot in common find it easy to fall in love.” 

“That they do,” he agrees. 

He raises his arm over the back of the couch and she sits back, leaning into his side just as his hand lands on her shoulder. They snuggle up close, she hits play and he watches with glee, not knowing this was going to become his favourite movie by the time it’s over. 

His favourite line is when two cars honk at each other and their drivers get out to argue, followed by Meg Ryan saying “Don’t you love New York in the fall?” Which is something Tom Hanks says to her in an email earlier that morning.

He loves the way the old man recalls a woman of his past and called her “enchanting” because what a wonderful thing to say about a woman.

He giggles when Tom Hanks tosses aside Pride and Prejudice cause he just doesn’t get it the way Meg's character does. But ultimately, he picks it back up because he wants to get to know her through her reading history. 

“I sympathize with Frank,” Spencer whispers as he brings out a typewriter when they have a perfectly good computer at her house. 

“I know,” she laughs. “I love the tablets at work, I can’t believe you still have Penny paint the files out for you.” 

You are a lone reed standing tall, waving boldly in the curet sands of commerce. Frank compliments Kathleen, or at least he tries to. 

Spencer giggles again. “I remember what it was like being a lone Reid,” he whispers before pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

She gets all flustered, so madly in love with him that she wants to scream it from the rooftops but it feels way too soon. They’re only 3 movies into their relationship. Maybe at 10, she’ll tell him. Till then, she looks over at him and steals a real kiss. 

Kathleen is so passionate about her books in the same way that Y/N loves her movies. Spencer sees so many similarities between them that it’s really no wonder that Tom Hanks’ character falls in love with her. Passionate, kind, beautiful women will always have a place in Spencer's heart. 

Their 4th movie is another Meg Ryan classic; When Harry Met Sally, and now Spencer understands why Derek pretends to have an orgasm when he eats a good salad… 

Their 5th movie is Notting Hill and Y/N can tell he doesn’t like it very much because unlike William Tucker, the actress who kissed Spencer never talked to him again after that. 

Their 6th movie, however, is Pretty Woman. And while they shared a bed all through the last case, they’ve never really slept together. So watching a movie all about sex and falling in love really didn’t help the frustration they were both feelings. By the time the movie ended, it was almost midnight and they should’ve been getting ready for bed. 

She gets up and heads to her room, expecting him to follow but he just stands in her doorway, watching with a bit of anxiety in his gut. 

“So…” Spencer asks. “What happens after he climbs up and rescues her?” 

She stills, her heart fills with love and she quickly makes his way to him. She cups his face in her hands, staring up at him. “She rescues him right back.” 

“Indeed you have,” he leans in and presses a quick kiss to her lips. “You know what all these movies have in common?” 

“What?” She has no idea where he’s going with this.

“They all fell in love pretty quickly, I mean just look at Vivian and Edward, it took them less than a week,” he explains. “So I don’t feel too crazy when I say… I love you, Y/N. I love you so very much.” 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she whispers between kisses. 

They kiss and kiss and he walks with her, leading her toward the bed where they fall in and make love for the first time. It's hot and close and emotional. It's slow and steady and perfect. It’s everything both of them have dreamed of when they finally met the one. 

— 

On their second day off they watch How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, 13 Going On 30, 50 First Dates, A Walk to Remember, 10 Things I Hate About You, and The Holiday. They would’ve gotten to more if they weren’t so wrapped up in one another. By the time they go back to work, they’ve gotten through half of her list of favourite movies. 

He’s not sure if it’s luck or coincidence or what… but their next case happens to be in New York. 

When they land, they get into their Bureau-issued SUVs and weave in and out of traffic on their way to the scene. They’re honked at multiple times and Spencer just smirks to himself. It’s not until they get out and they’re honked at once again, with some guy yelling at them to get out of his way, that Spencer turns to her and says. “Don’t you love New York in the fall?” 

She giggles and shoves him, “Shut up.” 

“It’s not the fall?” JJ remarks, not knowing why he’d say such a thing or why she’d react like that. 

“Hey, isn’t that…” Emily thinks it over for a second. “That’s a line from you’ve got mail!” 

“How would Spencer know that movie?” JJ laughs it off. 

Spencer turns to beat red with embarrassment. “I’ve seen it…” 

“You’ve seen you’ve got mail?” Derek even rides him for this slip-up. “And when do you have time to watch rom-coms?” 

“I’ve seen the original,” he lies. “It’s based on The Shop Around The Corner. My mom liked it before she got sick.” 

“Okay,” they drop it there. 

Thankfully. 

And by the time the case ends, 3 days have passed, the unsub has been booked into Jail at 9am and they’re free to go home. If they want to. Derek suggests they all go out for breakfast, and Hotch says he rather go home and sleep. JJ wants to go shopping and Emily’s right there with her. 

Spencer on the other hand, he opens his phone and sends Y/N a message. 

“There’s a place in Riverside Park at 91st street where the path curves and there’s a garden. I’ll be waiting there for you.” 

She digs her phone out of her pocket seconds later and smiles, a small sigh leaves her as her shoulders slump. She’s so in love with him it's unreal. 

“What about you, Y/N?” Emily asks her. “Do you want to come with us?” 

“No… no, I have a friend in town I want to meet up with.” 

“Looks like it’s just me and you for breakfast, pretty boy,” Derek teased, wrapping his arm around Spencer. 

He shakes his head, “Actually, I was thinking about going on a little sightseeing adventure, you know I only come to new york for work.” 

“Fine then,” Derek drops it and he, Emily and JJ watch as Spencer and Y/N head off, out of the precinct and in different directions. “I bet you ten bucks they’re meeting up.” 

“Hold on,” JJ says as she calls up Penelope. “Hey, yeah, can you tell me where Spencer and Y/N’s GPS pings in 20 minutes?” 

“I can… why?” Penny asks nervously. 

“No reason. Just a hunch.” 

When Penelope eventually calls her back all she has to say is Riverside Park at 91st Street and they know. 

—

Y/N gets there first, she’s never seen this place in person before. The flowers are even more vibrant than in the movie. There are bees dancing around every other flower, couples walking around hand in hand, people on dog walks and moms with their strollers. It’s just an average early morning in New York. 

And then she sees him. He comes rounding the corner, he’s carrying a bouquet of flowers wrapped in newspaper… at least she thinks they’re flowers. 

What they don’t notice is their friends on the other side of the garden, watching them get closer and closer until they’re chest to chest. He wraps his free hand around her waist, she cups his face in her own hands, and she stares up at him like he hung the stars just for her.  

“I wanted it to be you,” Spencer whispers what was originally Meg Ryan's line. “I wanted it to be you so badly.” 

“You sure did save the best for last,” she knows exactly what he means. 

Just as they lean in to kiss, as his lips meet hers, they hear it. Someone is playing “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” just for them. They smile into the kiss, shocked that their life is playing out like a perfectly written movie and then they see them.

It’s their own friends who played it. They’re clapping in the distance, “Woo!!” Emily cheers.

“We knew this would happen!” Derek throws in for good measure. 

They can’t help but laugh, Spencer pulls her in for another kiss, a longer, more hearty kiss. He loves her and he wants everyone to know. 

When she pulls back, she looks as though she could cry, so he extends the bouquet to her. It’s a bunch of yellow, newly sharpened number 2 pencils tied up with string. 

“Don’t you love New York in the fall?” 

“Not as much as I love you,” she says as she takes them, gladly. “Not even close.” 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @babybisexual @marsmunson86

[thelov3lybookworm]

Juice Stains

Summary: A day alone with the babe. What could go wrong?

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: because @secret-third-thing's this post inspired me to have eris washing socks lol you can all thank her for inspiring me 🤭

anyways, enjoyy!!

No one told Eris that giving a two year old child a glass of juice would result in him cursing his own existence.

His wife had gone to visit her friend in summer court, only just getting the chance to leave Amelia in his care since her birth. Eris had forced her to go himself, practically spewing a speech to get her nerves to calm.

Oh how he regretted that now as he rubbed the tiny fabric against itself in his hands, the water constantly running proving to be of no help against the stubborn stain of the orange juice spilled on the sock.

And the culprit of this crime? She was happily laughing away as she watched her father suffer for her actions.

Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Eris sighed, wondering how the hell Y/n handled situations like this. His back was screaming in pain, his fingers cramping after long moments of clutching at the tiny sock of his daughter.

The stain simply refused to come off, only adding to the list of things Eris was frustrated about as he leaned back, trying to straighten his back and get rid of at least some of the pain, his eyes wandering around the room.

It was a mess, and that was putting it lightly.

On the bed lay the heap of little clothes Eris had been looking through earlier to dress his little princess after her bath, wanting to pick the most comfortable and fashionable outfit suitable for someone so important.

On the couch and in front of it lay Amelia's toys, thrown around in the fit of rage she'd been before he handed her the juice.

Which, somehow, looked like the worst decision he'd made in his life.

The glass lay abandoned on the floor next to Amelia, who was chewing on her mitten like it was the tastiest fabric in the world, juice still pooled on the floor, slowly spreading.

Releasing a breath of frustration, Eris wrung the sock in his hand, then turned and stalked over to where Amelia sat, the mitten half hanging out of her mouth, her hand covered in saliva from when she had been trying to eat herself.

Cannibalism?

Eris knew it was ridiculous to think that, but how was he to shut his mind down when he was too tired to even blink?

"Come on, its nap time." He muttered lowly, leaning down to gather Amelia in his arms, who offered him a toothy grin for his suffering.

Despite her making him work so much, he could not stay mad. Hell, he could not even bring himself to be irritated or fault her for his tiredness. She was too adorable for that.

As he slowly set her down on her back on the fluffy mattress, uncaring that she was laying diagonally on the bed, he let himself smile at her.

"Are you happy after making daddy work so much?"

She squealed as he buried his face in her neck, giggling and trying to push him away when he tried to bite at her cheek.

"You deserve that punishment, you know that right?"

Her eyes twinkled back at him, and he sighed, settling down next to her, his body from the knee down hanging off.

"I'm resting a little before mommy returns. Remind me to clean up before then, will you?"

He patted her back, gently humming a tune to get her to sleep as she babbled out an answer he was too tired to even try and decipher. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep, even though she was the one who should have been sleeping.

No, she stayed awake, talking to herself and playing with the wet sock he still had in his hand and giggling at the wet splat the material made when she slapped it onto her father's face.

She did not, in fact, wake him up before mommy arrived.

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo

@sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175

@starsinyourseyes @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@cumuluscranium @byyalady @lilah-asteria @girlswithimagination @gardenofrunar @girlswithimagination

@sunnyspycat

Eris Vanserra Taglist: @fell-in-luvs @azrielsmate3 @tele86 @caraaaaugh

[strawberrysainz]

secret garden. charles leclerc

“ charles joining you on holiday was definitely not planned. you begin to have small revelations. is it the wine, or are you truly thinking about his lips on yours? ”

charles leclerc x reader

a warning— crude language, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, slightly mature. some shitty french, italian, spanish.

word count: 4.1k

Your book seems to begin to blur as the lethargy of a Sunday at five o’clock tends to do what it does best; make you sleepy.

That, and your previous glass of wine seemed to be catching up to you.

The universe sends a saviour in the shape of your friend Lila: she pokes your stomach so you that look up through your sunglasses. You shut the book. It’s something about a twenty-something girl in the 1960s, who joins a hippie cult, and the facts make your head spin (you really couldn’t be arsed to focus while the wine makes you drowsy). You pause the playlist on your phone to look expectantly up at her. She’s a little bit drunk too; her hair is mussed up from laying down on the lounger. The Italian sun was perfect today, white wine flowing while you both tanned the day away. Lila had invited you to her fiancé’s (he worked for Ferrari) house in Tuscany for a week in the summer. It was picturesque and romantic, but he had to work for much of it and she wanted to spend the time with a person who was there constantly. With a getaway promised years ago, she finally followed through, and your second day was just as lovely as the first.

“Up for padel?”

“You mean… le sport?” You answer, giggling slightly. “The wine is in my head now, ma chérie.” You tease affectionately and she begins to tidy up her things to go inside. “Yes, le sport,” she mocks, “‘Tonio invited us to play.” “With who as the fourth?” You ask curiously; Antonio had lamented all day yesterday that he was ‘third wheeling, alone’. Lila pauses to focus on the question, delightfully tipsy, and her hand tries to fold the towel as she thinks. “He invited Charles to come stay too, they will train and plot for the season’s second half together. Now we will third wheel on them.”

You nod then, smiling, and pack up, giggling to yourself about the looks you’ll get from those two when you turn up fabulously drunk. “Is it a hazard to play padel with athletes when the wine makes me slow?”

Lila cackles, bumping her sunglasses back up on her face, sliding on her sundress. “Tonio might flip out on us for being useless, he’s so competitive against Charles. Charles is too nice to say anything. I hope I am his partner.” She snorts, and you laugh too.

“I hope Charles brought proper drinks too. Last time we had a party at Lando’s, that tequila he brought…” you sigh at the memory. “I hope he’s also on summer mode. No offence chérie, but your boy cannot switch off unless he has a friend.” You poke fun at the fact that he will only drink one glass of wine with supper and refuse to get drunk as fuck with the two of you. Lila hits you with the pillow.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

You two Uber to the padel courts Antonio frequents in Italy, too scared to drive (rightfully so, you’re a bit shitfaced). You drink bottles and bottles of water, staring into each other’s eyes to try and sober up, but the dopey looks make you burst out laughing each time.

You end up napping for ten minutes, trying to sleep off the wine. Then you pat each other’s faces, blinking and blinking, but you end up giving up. Padel with two competitive men will be more fun not sober. When the driver drops you off, he tells you he is praying for whoever you speak to in the next minutes. You two end up in tears of laughter from God knows what. It ends with a hefty euro tip, some swear words and catching Lila from falling onto the street. Eventually you make it to the courts, picking up the two racquets the boys left for you on a bench, and you stare at Lila. “I hope we survive this.” You say seriously, and she salutes. You are in peals of laughter when you reach their court.

Charles stares at the two of you with amusement as you nearly trip over the entrance. “Avez-vous bu tous les deux?” He asks, and he receives just a wink from you, pointing at the small wine stain on Lila’s shirt.

He stifles a cackle as Lila goes to kiss Antonio sloppily, who kisses her reluctantly before gently scolding her in Italian. “Tonio, mon rêleuse, we apologise. We have only received your invitation when the wine was flowing. We also bring a level of entertainment.” You announce, brandishing the racquet. Your bluntness makes even Antonio smile. “Alright, alright. I was planning to put you two together, but maybe we’ll each pair with a drunkard, no?” He nods at Charles, who smiles.

“I’ll look after my girlfriend.” He adds, and Lila groans. “No! I wanted to play with Charles, he’s better at padel.” Antonio looks the most hurt you’ve ever seen a man be.

“Le spectacle de merde.” You whisper, at least you think it is a whisper, to Charles. “Ouais,” he giggles. You smack his arm affectionately. “Tu es tellement adorable,” you say, pursing your lips in a sweet way, and he hugs you with one arm, rubbing your back. “Laisse le vin continuer à parler, oui?”

The way in which you solidly keep hitting the ball on the wire makes him laugh.

Antonio cannot keep himself from raging at the two of you being useless, and tries to calm himself down; Lila falls on the court laughing at his aggressive muttering. You cry with laughter every time she misses the ball (which is more often than not) which leads Charles to request a glass of the wine you had been drinking. Padel has never been more fun, in your opinion: your grip gets looser and your shots stronger with every point. Charles carries your team, and you exchange a fist bump every time. Eventually you two win 11-10, and Lila jumps over the net clumsily to congratulate you both. Carlos settles for a reluctant high five. “Antonioooo…” you drag out his name, and the ridiculous grief of a tiny loss on his face makes you grin. “Can you make your tagliatelle?”

Lila clamours for it too, and he groans. “Whatever.” You two jump into each other’s arms; you end up getting another Uber back to shower and change so the boys can stop and grocery shop as well as buy you drinks, ‘not wine!’ under your instruction. When they get back, you’re slightly more sober, having showered and changed into a bikini (for a night swim) and a linen set over it.

Lila is asleep with her head on the kitchen counter while Charles pours you a rum and raspberry. You’re grateful for the different drink, the headache beginning to pound its way into your head. Antonio starts on the pasta, and you three talk about how their training was, how your poolside day went, the tourists in the city this week, paddock gossip and Charles’ new piano song, which he plays a recording of for you.

“That’s very good,” you compliment, and he blushes. Antonio is busy stirring the sauce while you have revelations. Charles clears his throat, locking the phone, and you set the table. “I’m making scones tonight,” you announce, and in the early stages of waking, Lila cheers with a yawn.

“With what?” Antonio challenges, and you wink. “I brought all the ingredients with. Jam and whipping cream. We can have some for breakfast tomorrow.” “Gotta train harder for that!” Lila jokes, flicking Charles’ arm, who giggles in that stupidly funny way.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

Stomachs full and content, you and Lila float in the light of the pool. Occasionally you swat a mosquito out of your face, and your second R&R slowly slips away. “Still making the scones?” She asks, and you yawn. “Merde.”

You both laugh.

“Ti piace Cha?”

You stare at her.

“Sei pazzo? He’s most likely got some European model waiting for him in Monaco.”

“Ho visto come ti guardava.”

Your head hurts.

“Ma chérie, Cha could not look at me twice. There is nothing.” Lila makes a disapproving sound, and you splash her.

“Ho sempre pensato che non avrebbe mai potuto-“

Charles and Antonio, holding beers, make their way from the house to the pool. You shut up. You notice that they’ve also been drinking quite heavily, like you two- Charles is much too giggly, and Antonio has that drunken seriousness to him. They sit on the edge of the pool. “Where are those scones?” Antonio asks, and you roll your eyes. “Maybe I’ll make them fresh in the morning.” You yawn, making Charles do the same.

“Cazzata!” He replies, and you laugh with Lila. “Promise. I want to go horse riding tomorrow morning, the farm across the way said I could when we went with the dogs.” Lila shakes her head. “¡No puedo enfrentarme a un caballo, especialmente contigo!”

You snort. Antonio downs the beer. Charles is staring at the moon. “You okay?” You raise your eyebrows. “Just remembering last time I went riding.”

There is an awkward silence.

You can’t gauge his tone, and you make eye contact with Lila, frowning. “Well, if anyone wants to come, I would love to have them.” You clear your throat, and Antonio shakes his head. “Gym tomorrow.” Charles groans, putting down the beer. “Putain!” “You’ll have scones when you finish then,” you smile, and make to get out. “I’m going to bed if I want to get up at seven.”

Everyone wishes you a good night, and you make your way up to your room, still uneasy about Charles at the pool.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

Your third day in Tuscany continues as you walk into the house; you are greeted by the dogs. The door was unlocked - a classic sign of Antonio leaving - so you knew the boys had left. You opened the large windows after taking off your boots, letting the fresh morning air in. You yawn as you put on a playlist, beginning to bake as the soft sounds of music accompany you to it.

About fifteen minutes later the scones are in the oven, and you set out some things to eat them with - as the plates clink, you hear Lila walking downstairs. “Hi,” she drags out the syllable - you smile at her ruffled brown hair - a dog is leaping up at her - and you wish her a good morning, making coffee for the both of you. She comes to sit on a bar stool, and you grimace at the remembrance of last night - where she slept for a moment or so - and she seems to recall the same. “How did you get up at seven?” She laughs. “My head was killing me.”

You laugh. “I have no clue.” “Wasn’t Charles weird last night? Or was I just drunk.” “No, he was so weird.” You are hungry to gossip (you had gone to bed before you could debrief.) “What the fuck was he on?”

Lila covers her mouth, laughing. Yet again, before you can gossip, the loud sound of the front door opening stops you. You groan and take the scones out of the oven. “Good morning!” Antonio says aloud, and you nod at the two walking in.

Lila kisses him on the cheek. “We have been hard at work.”

You grin. “How was neck day?” Charles rolls his eyes. “As incredible as you think it was.”

You laugh then, putting the hot scones on a plate. “Merde, did you do these from scratch? That’s so good.” “You burn eggs and toast, mate. Anything is so good in your eyes.” Antonio nudges Charles, who blushes furiously and smacks his arm.

You stare at Lila. She mouths some unfathomable sentence to you and you shrug as Antonio reaches for a scone. Your phone starts ringing, interrupting this strange situation, and you answer it. “Salut maman.” You answer.

“Ma chérie, comment est la Toscane? Les bons jours d'été avec toi me manquent, mon amour.”

You make a face that’s screwed up with childish embarrassment. “Tu me manques et la famille aussi, oui ? Je dois revenir en France pour visiter.”

“Papa t'envoie du champagne des cousins, et nous allons faire livrer des fleurs. Notre fille nous manque.”

“Pourquoi tant d'amour ?” You laugh.

“Sans raison.” She says innocently, and you stare at Lila, confused.

“Ton frère va se marier!”

“Quoi!” You shout, grasping your chest.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

The news of your brother’s engagement leaves you still slightly concerned as Charles hands you some sort of cocktail. You take a sip and grimace at the ratio of rum to whatever else is in there. Charles laughs. “Haven’t they been together for a while?”

You shake your head, detailing that you’d met his fiancé - albeit a nice man - only once before. Antonio laughs. Lila smacks his arm. “You haven’t proposed yet, you cannot laugh.” Antonio’s face is a picture as you gasp for breath with laughter.

The sun sets on a slow evening as you laze by the pool with these people; you adore being in their company, you realise. You are still shaking your head with shock. “I can’t believe my brother is the first sibling to be married,” you grimace, and Charles laughs. “Which Leclerc will marry first, you think?” You ask him. “I don’t know. I think Lorenzo, because Arthur’s young. Definitely not me.” He emphasises with a face, and you laugh.

Hours later, you tell stories of your and Lila’s university days while the boys laugh, details of hookups and too much alcohol paint pictures of pure comedy. “Anyone want a scone?” You announce, going to make one in the kitchen. “I’ll come with,” Charles says politely, leaving the couple to themselves.

You end up pouring another R&R while you spread jam and cream, not eager to experience your hangover tomorrow morning. “Je suis un putain d’alcoolique.” Charles dismisses the thought. “S'il vous plaît, vous n'êtes pas spécial.”

You laugh. “It’s nice that you’re here. I always wanted to get to know you better.” You say off topic, switching to English, the languages getting mixed up in your slowed down mind. Charles laughs and pats your arm. “A drink makes you very emotional,” he jokes, and you make a face. “Be quiet.” “Let’s take a picture!” You switch up, mind spinning, and Charles is laughing as he takes pictures of you making scones with slow limbs, dancing, smiling, spinning.

You take a 0,5 of him in return, laughing at the weird expression on his face. You take selfies, air kissing, pulling faces, until your phone tells you you’re out of storage, and the moment is over, lipstick on his face. You laugh. He’s quiet.

“I can wipe it off,” you say quietly, trying not to ruin the comfortable energy in the kitchen. He lets you do it tenderly with a baby wipe, big expressive eyes staring into yours, wide with the relaxation of alcohol flowing through him. He leans in and you lurch back, shocked at the prospect of you two.

He pretends like he didn’t do anything, the little shit, and your eyes narrow as you pinch his ear. He cries out in pain, and tries to get you back, but you’re running with the scones in one hand and the drink in the other, cackling into the dark night, the comfort of the warmth.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

The next morning is rough.

You’re woken up with a lurching stomach, violently hungover. You decide a swim under the Italian sun is going to help, and change, going to the pool. Antonio is there, swimming laps, and you hover awkwardly around the pool before getting in. He greets you softly, not wanting to disturb the birds chirping down at the vineyard and the peace of the morning. “There’s this song,” you say, dipping your head into the cool water, relishing this delightful feeling that comes with the activity of swimming like a child. “I used to listen to it every day of my last year of uni. It’s this song that makes me feel so great inside. And I realise that I feel that way when I’m with all of you. Thank you for inviting me.” Antonio looks touched, as much as a guy could at that revelation. “You’ve still got three days with me. That could change your mind.”

You laugh, diving underwater.

From the kitchen window, Lila and Charles are talking, unbeknownst to you. She grabs his arm aggressively as he moves to take the fresh cup of coffee. “Do you like her?” He jumps with fright. “Merde- she’s very nice?”

Lila raises her eyebrows.

He groans. “You aren’t going to ask me if I like like her as if I’m twelve.” “Charles!” She folds her arms, and he casts his gaze to you lazing in the pool.

“No.” He says stubbornly, and he might have convinced her but he hasn’t convinced himself. Lila lets out a huff as she turns back to the breakfast she’s making; he looks down at the floor.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

Charles offers you wine. You nearly smack the bottle out of his hand. “No.”

The early afternoon is the precursor to your declaration of sobriety for the day; you and Lila take the dogs for another walk, getting dragged by their leashes as they leap and bound. You end up at the gym with her afterwards, sweating out your fatigue, and you try not to stare at Charles as he and Antonio walk in. Another game of padel is offered afterwards, and you two accept, playing away yet another lovely day and beginning of the evening. You’re much better at padel when you’re sober.

Then Antonio and Charles want to go clubbing, and you agree wearily, going back with them to change into some little strappy top and skirt. You have never decided your stance on clubbing - you love a night out somewhere, but the thought of it annoys you now, the prospect of a night in after a long bath sounding much better.

You and Lila pretend you’re back in your uni days, dark eyeshadow and dramatic makeup, perfume stinking up the room. You laugh at the two of you as you slip on some high heels, red lipstick everywhere, mascara accidentally smudging as you absentmindedly wipe your face.

You fix it before you’re running down to the car when you hear Antonio shouting about your tardiness. It’s a 4x4, and you slide chaotically into the middle seat next to Charles, Lila hopping in afterwards, your knee touching Charles’, skirt riding up. You let out a breath as Antonio has a bit of a nostalgic moment - he met Lila on a night just like this, with you two, at a club in Madrid.

“I feel nineteen again,” you laugh, seven years ago finding you again, the smell of Charles’ cologne rooting you back in the present. The driver is chattering on about Ferrari as you get Charles to take pictures of you and Lila, posing, then judging the pictures, high-fiving him for his great photography skills. You post one to your story, all wide eyes and pouty lips, and your followers begin to reply things about all those years ago.

You’re at the club twenty minutes later, a Khalid song sending you out of the car. You grab Lila’s arm and hug her, intensely nostalgic. Charles demands more pictures of you - Antonio agrees - you two must look good. He takes more, and then you’re all taking photos in the street light, and you’re handing your phone to some random girl who takes photos of all of you. She mumbles something in Italian and Charles thanks her very much before you’re all bundled into the club.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

Charles comes to drape his arm over your shoulder an hour later, sweaty, and he’s got lip gloss on his lips. You point at your own lips pointedly and he exclaims something that’s lost in the noise. He lifts up his shirt to wipe his sticky lips and your gaze is caught on his abs as his hand brushes his chest. You look away hurriedly.

A dull ache propels you onto the dance floor, and some guy leans in to kiss you and you let him, annoyed and jealous. But his breath smells terrible, stale, and you’re pulling away, shuddering, and run to the bar for some water.

You’re still retching like a cat with a hairball ten minutes later when Charles finds you again, and he laughs with confusion. You roll your eyes. “I’m gonna go for a smoke,” you shout in his ear, and he follows you, a hand ghosting your back. You shiver and run out into the heat.

You pull out a box of cigarettes and a lighter out of your bag and you light one hurriedly, the taste of that guy still horrid in your mouth.

You offer the cig, lipstick-stained, and Charles hesitates before you shrug. “I didn’t know you smoked,” he said, and you shrugged. “Only when I’m out.”

He nods then; you lift up the cigarette to his lips. He takes a drag, eyes shining outside the fluorescent light of the club. You breathe, and you can see a teenager standing beside you instead of a man in his twenties, sneaking a smile and a smoke in secret.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

It’s 2:26. You scroll on your phone as Charles talks lowly on the phone beside you (Leila and Antonio found some friends and decided to stay). You stare out at the moon, the light highlighting your face as you look back at Charles briefly. He’s already looking, and smiles slowly, bashful to have been caught. You can’t hide a smile.

His hand is laying tentatively on the middle seat, and your hand is on your knee. You both stare.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

He’s pulling out a bottle of wine as you tumble into the house, the night welcoming you back to the villa. Your eyes are wide and his focussed on the glasses in his hand, walking carefully out onto the patio. You fall into a slightly uncomfortable metal chair and he pours a glass in the dark, squinting as you hear some crickets. You accept a glass with a quiet thanks and he sits down next to you clumsily, and the wine sloshes out onto his shirt and he curses quietly. You grin.

One of the dogs pad out onto the wood and the click of its nails makes your nose scrunch and it tries to jump on your lap; with a groan you attempt to shove it off and Charles gets up, laughing, pushing, and somehow he ends up staring into your eyes, bending down, and some force of nature propels you to capture his lips with yours. You let out a little sigh as he wraps a hand in your hair, and he’s pulling you up and the glass is forgotten and it’s twilight hours in the dark.

The trembling anticipation of a new lover ignites a new energy there outside. You wrap an arm around his neck and you both push forward against each other. It’s the kind of kiss where everything just works; your lips slot so perfectly, and his hair feels soft beneath your hazy movements.

The dog interrupts by licking your knee, and you move backward with a shudder. He’s moving in again, shoulders taut, and his arms are smooth as your hands grasp them, bodies moving sensually under the light of the crescent moon above.

Your watch beeps and you look down to see a notification from Lila. You ignore it. Charles is instead running fluid hands over your hips, liquid gold, and you’re melting, drowning in the heavy look in his eyes. It’s as if the puzzle piece has just slotted into place. A newfound frenzy causes you to pull him slowly into the house, bare feet meeting the dark wood below. You nearly crash into a glass window before you’re in the kitchen, and he’s bending your back slightly over a counter, finding your neck with his lips, nipping, sucking, and you’re parting your lips with delight, body moving with his.

His facial hair is scruffy, and the sensation causes you to arch a little and he slams you back down. You moan.

He grins.

A hand flits up your back, under the shirt, feeling the skin, and you shiver when he rubs a thumb over a piece of your spine, and he’s leaning back to study you, cheeks pink in the dark, and he goes back in for a kiss, smiling broadly.

[woso-fan13]

Sicktember 2023: 30 (uswnt)

Patient 0

It wasn’t your fault. Technically, you are the only person that the blame falls to, but you didn’t mean for everything to happen. You had felt fine when you had left for camp and when you arrived. You didn’t start feeling sick until dinner on the first full day, but you blamed the headache on the lack of water that you had consumed that day. 

Waking up the next morning, you knew that this wasn’t caused by a little dehydration. This was, without a doubt, a nasty bug. 

You were determined to keep this to yourself in all ways possible. You didn’t want your teammates to know that you were sick, but you also didn’t want to get them sick. The best way to accomplish both of these things is to hide from everyone as much as you can. 

You had some pretty good excuses over the next day, insisting that you needed to complete a lengthy assignment for school and spending a lot of time in your room. You also claimed that you wanted a little extra practice time, allowing you to get out of the locker room before everyone else arrived and stay on the field until you were sure everyone had changed. It was draining, but it was for the best. 

—-

On the third day, an unstopping knock sounded on the door. When you heard the voices on the other side- Emily and Kelley- you knew that they wouldn’t stop knocking until you opened the door. 

Unwrapping the blanket from your body and pausing briefly to try and make yourself look less ill, you make it to the door and open it. You stare at the women on the other side, an eyebrow cocked in question. 

“Hey, nugget,” Emily says, pushing past you and walking into your room, “we figured you could use some company tonight.”

You protested, assuring the women that you were busy while trying to hide the rasp in your voice. The two women ignore you and settle on your bed anyway.  

“Yeah, yeah,” Kelley rolls her eyes, “I’ve heard, you’re swamped. But you know what I think?”

You shake your head slightly, unsure as to where Kelley is going. 

“I think it’s all a lie. What do you think, Sonny, is Y/N lying to us?”

You try to protest but Emily interrupts you, “she obviously is. I mean, look at her.”

“I think you’re lying,” Kelley continues, “because it’s summer right now. So I know your fall classes haven’t started, and I know that you weren’t taking any summer classes. So you obviously aren’t working on something for school. All of this brings up the question of why you’re lying.”

You stay silent, your eyes suddenly finding it necessary to study the carpet on the hotel floor. 

Emily decides that she should also chime in, “at first, we thought you were just being a little shy. But, come on, when have your name and shy been used in the same sentence?”

Kelley continues the conversation, “Then we thought you might be working on a surprise or a prank or something, but you can’t keep a secret.”

“And then,” Emily pauses, “we figured it out.”

“You’re sick, kiddo,” Kelley says bluntly. 

“No, I’m not,” you insist much too quickly for someone telling the truth, “I’m totally fine, I’ve just been busy. But I’m completely, 100%, totally healthy.”

Kelley snags an arm around your waist, pulling you to sit between the two women on the bed, “it’s okay if you’re not.”

And the dams had burst, as you began crying. The two women hold you tighter, whispering calming words as you allow all of the emotions from the past few days to escape. 

“Shh, buddy, you’re okay,” Emily soothes, “we know you’re feeling a little sick, but you’ll feel better soon. I promise.”

“It’s not that,” you whimper through tears, “I- I just don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

Somewhat confused by your confession, the women share a look over your head. Kelley pulls you to completely rest against her, dropping a few kisses to your hair. 

“You don’t have to be alone, that’s why Emmy and I are here. We’re going to snuggle up and watch a movie before bed, you’ll be right between us.”

“But I can’t, cause then you’ll be sick.”

Oh. 

That’s what you had been afraid of. 

“Oh, bug,” Emily says sadly, “we don’t care if we get sick, that’s okay.”

“But you’ll get sick and then everyone will get sick and it will all be my fault,” you force the words out through tears. 

“You’re not going to be patient 0, Y/N/N, I promise. And even if you are, no one will be mad,” Kelley reassures you. 

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Remember when you got really sick at camp last year and ended up in the hospital?”

You nod, thinking about the endless wait in the ER as your sick lungs struggled to breathe properly. 

“Do you remember how you got sick?”

Again, you nod. 

“Do you blame me? I was the first one in the team to get sick and I was your roommate. Was it my fault you got sick and were in the hospital?”

You frantically shake your head no, “of course not, don’t be ridiculous. You didn’t mean to get me sick.”

The women fix you with identical looks, clearly telling you to take your own advice. And you do, slumping fully into their embrace with a sigh. 

[so-long-soldier-writes]

It's a Cruel Summer, With You

kai parker x reader | requested

summary: kai's never had anyone tell him they love him. he panics when he hears it for the first time.

tags: based on cruel summer by taylor swift, mild enemies to lovers, drinking / alcohol, secret relationship, summer love, love confessions, fear / panic, past trauma affecting relationships, emotional hurt, unrequited love (but not really), break-up, heartbreak, unhappy ending, one teensy edgar allen poe reference

word count: 5k

a/n: anon, i apologize once more for the amount of time this took! i hope you like it, and i hope i did taylor swift justice. 🩷 i also hope it makes sense bc sometimes i feel like my thoughts are just all over the place 😅

You were staring daggers into the back of his head, three days after a drastic turning point in their lives. And he, feeling your eyes upon him, turned to face you and smiled. That enraged you like nothing else; no man had ever had such an audacity with you, to raise the hell that he had and still offer a smile. You looked back down at your drink, still fuming, and still aware of him watching you, and texted your friends about it. One replied with an equal disgust, another sent a funny-to-her joke, and there was no response from the third. 

“Maybe he’s got a sweet spot for you,” she had said.

“Ha.”

A sweet spot that’d make him kill you last, maybe.

You rolled your eyes exhaustedly, but by the time you looked back down, someone had slunk into the booth across from you. You jumped, then rolled your eyes a second time at the realization of who it was.

“Hey cutie.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Kai shrugged, unbothered. He kept eye contact with you in a way that made it hard to look away; his blue eyes seemed to pierce right into your soul. They weren’t bright, like Damon’s, but instead had a touch of darkness in them. Like storm clouds rolling in on a bright, sunny day. They threaten rain, but you’re not sure if the downpour will come today or tomorrow.

Kinda like how he came into Mystic Falls. 

“What do you want?” You bit, after about thirty seconds of staring.

“Are you scared of me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you afraid of me?” He repeated, eerily softly. 

“Why would you think that?” Forced bravery is better than none, especially when faced with Kai Parker. 

“There’s a slight tremor in your voice. Only one finger touches the table, as if you’re unable to settle. You struggle to meet my eyes.”

“What are you, a psychologist?”

“I’m a sociopath.”

Shocker. 

“So?”

“I notice things.” He took a sip of your coffee. Reached out across the table, met your eyes, and sipped your drink. Again, the audacity. “I spent a lot of my childhood isolated. I had a lot of little brothers and sisters, and they were all taught to be afraid of me. I know how to read the signs.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“That’s what they’d say, too.”

“Well I’m not your siblings, and I’m not putting up an act. I don’t trust you, and I think you’re an ass, but I’m not afraid of you.” Your statement’s bold, but he had struck something fierce in you. A nerve, maybe on purpose, that wasn’t going to let him win this time. 

Kai smiled at that. His gaze dropped to the table, surveying your hands once more. His own pointer finger dragged along the wood. “I like you, Y/N. You’re plucky.”

The words took a moment to register - Kai saying he liked you. Kai didn’t like anyone. 

He got up to leave, causing you to turn towards him, prepared to jump out of the booth if you had to. “Well don’t.”

He cocked his head. “What?”

“I don’t want you to like me. I want nothing to do with you; you said it yourself, you’re a sociopath, and I don’t need that kind of bad energy in my life.”

That seemed to be funny to him, judging by the way he chuckled. “Okay, Y/N.” He put his hands up in surrender. “I won’t like you then.”

And with that, he was gone. 

Of course, he wasn’t gone - gone. Kai was never gone - gone from anything, even when people yelled at him to leave. He would disappear for a couple days, but he always came back. 

And somehow, after your interaction, you’d see him more frequently at the grill, too. He’d never talk to you, but you could feel his gaze. His stone cold blues would linger on you, almost like an animal stalking prey. 

It made you anxious, jittery. But somewhere, secretly, also a bit excited. 

He was dangerous in a way that drew you in. He had this aura about him that intrigued you as much as it scared you. You knew what he had done, and what he was capable of, and yet he still occupied the curious corners of your mind. 

And somehow, he seemed to know that. 

♫

How it happened from there is something you still question. Death glares became stolen glances, became blushing smiles, and by the next time he joined you at your booth, you didn’t try to fight him off. Kai ordered an uncharacteristically pink cocktail to match your own tropical choice. Neither said much as you both drank the rum mixtures down to the ice. You communicated in eye contact, mostly, as if daring the other to speak. Your stubborn personalities that should’ve clashed seemed to meld together instead. An intense staring contest was born. You found yourself entertained in the game, and quickly, enjoying it, too.

The booze soaked your brain as you continued to drink; your thoughts were fuzzy, and whenever you tried to catch them, they’d dissipate like cotton candy dropped in water. When Liv closed the restaurant around midnight, she unknowingly crashed the floodgates that weakly stood between you two. Ten feet out onto the street, you fell into him and he held you up. You laughed in his arms, partly due to your own drunken state, but partly that it’s Kai keeping you on your toes. He held you tight until you found your footing, just for you to crash your lips onto his unsuspecting own. The witch, taken aback but not opposed to it, let you taste him for a moment before kissing back. He pushed you up to the nearest wall, feeling and exploring, before hailing a ride back to your place. 

It had been forever for both of you. The uber driver with a ‘no touching’ rule sobered you up a little, but not enough to make you think twice about it. By the time he laid you down on your sheets, any doubt in your mind had fizzled out. He was a gentle lover, much to your surprise, likely because it was such an unfamiliar feeling to be so intimate with another. The little control you tried to take was met with a laugh, and you understood the signal. You didn’t mind being underneath him, though, nor did you mind him staying the night.

Guilt struck you when you first woke up in his arms, but not enough to barr yourselves from meeting again. The first few times you had to be drinking to convince yourself it was okay, but the more morning-afters you spent together, the less ashamed you started to feel. With time, nights started to feel less like hookups and more like something else. He became something you adored when you had, and craved when you did not. The feelings were mutual, though harder to pull out from the siphon, until you asked him directly, putting both your hearts out for the other to grab.

“What are we?” You asked, head leaning on the vending machine as he fetched himself a post-high gatorade. A bag of cookies were held in your own hand from the exchange you made one minute prior. 

“Having fun,” Kai replied.

“Kai…”

“Or so I think,” he followed his words, questioning the look on your face. 

“Are we anything more? Will we ever be?”

A loud voice down the hall that vaguely resembled his sister made a sharp remark to another person. His response sounded closer, as if they were heading in your direction. Kai grabbed your arm and muttered a simple cloaking spell until they both passed. Liv and Tyler both disappeared into her room, then Kai removed his hand. His touch lingered on your skin for a moment. You’ve grown to quite like the feeling. 

“I don’t know,” he confessed, “I’m not exactly the person for relationships, if you aren’t aware. I’m a sociopath that was locked in complete isolation for eighteen years.”

“I don’t care.” You grabbed his hand and laced your fingers together. “I like you. I don’t want this to stop. I want it to be more.”

“I’m not built for this.”

“But do you want it?”

His mouth went dry as he already knew the truth. He did. He wanted you so much, but fear held him back like a dog on a leash. He didn’t have much slack. “I want you,” he finally said. “I want this to work.”

“I’m not good at relationships, either. We’re figuring this out together.”

Kai seemed to accept that better, and two minutes later, he climbed back under the sheets with you, turning on a movie and sharing snacks until you fell asleep. 

♫

As your relationship progressed, it was tested, like all relationships ever are. You grew closer, more comfortable, as summer went on. Much of your time spent together was at night; you hadn’t told your friends, not ready for their questions nor their judgment, nor did you want the word out to his coven yet, afraid of whatever wrath his father could bring if he were to disapprove. You were still figuring things out, still learning about each other, and testing yourselves through time, and that was okay. Life isn’t something to be learned in a day, it’s something in which to be present to see where it takes you.

So, you let yourselves live, to do just that. On top of rooftops and beside small creeks, you snuck out to enjoy each other’s company. Mystic Falls has a lot of places to hide if you know where to look. 

A couple times, you’ve almost ran into others. More than anyone being Liv and Tyler, also avoiding her father. Once, you’ve ducked under bushes to hide from Bonnie. Kai kissed your neck while his hand was clamped over your mouth, daring you to give away your position, while playfully inhibiting your chance to do so.

Sometimes, you were drunk when you found yourselves venturing the town together. The bar in which neither Matt nor Liv worked became a hotspot for you. But instead of ending the night short, you opted to explore the late hours in each other’s company. The alcohol wore off quickly, but the drunkenness brought on by your unconfessed love never did. 

Kai, as it turns out, was easy to fall in love with. He was charming when you first met, but you were tickled to learn that underneath his manipulation tactics, he could be just as endearing authentically. He was a jokester and a flirt, whether across a room when you’d spot each other in public, or when you were hanging out together alone. You were never afraid to be alone with him. If your friends knew you were out with him, alone, at night, they would’ve freaked, but he always made you feel safe. And, once he felt comfortable being vulnerable with you, he revealed a side that could be sweet, too. 

Even after arguments, you were able to patch things up as if they hadn’t happened. Sometimes, he’d be bristling and volatile, but you knew that a lot of his anger came from a place of fear. You learned what to say that would calm him down; you told him what he needed to hear to feel safe again. You’d provide him with the comfort he’d always desired, and when he settled, he’d melt into your touch and softly request forgiveness.

You complimented each other perfectly. And while it took you a moment to name the emotion, the feeling had been there all along. It was love. 

♫

You were only slightly drunk the first time you realized the truth. Kai was painted in perfect, purple lighting, and his eyes seemed to sparkle when they met yours. You stumbled towards him and put your arms around his neck. He caught you, hands finding your waist. The music seemed to fade out as you swayed with him to the beat. It was as if a bubble captured you both, drowning out the rest of the world, making him your world, and in that moment, nothing else existed. You kissed him quickly, desperately, like an addict gone too long without a hit. He met you halfway, equally addicted. 

And then, because you were young, and stupid, and courageously in love, you blurted out the words swimming restlessly in your mind,

“I love you.”

You looked up at him, not expecting an answer just yet, but to offer an encouraging smile. Before your gaze even reached his, his body tensed. His hands felt like ice upon your nervously warmed skin, and his once-strong grip on your waist loosened. Kai wore an expression of confusion, different from the emotion that you tasted on his lips. You opened your mouth to retract the words, but nothing came out. The bubble that consumed you seemed to crack; the music previously blocked filled your eardrums once again. 

A fraction of a second later, you were guided to a hallway by your fingertips. The narrow path reduced some of the music, but most of the traffic. The man of your affection took to one wall, leaving you in the middle. You tried for his hand after he let it go, but dropped it at the discomfort he seemed to feel in having you hold it. 

You racked your brain for the right words, but nothing seemed perfect. You stared at the ground beneath your feet for a half second longer until he spoke, 

“You can’t do that.”

“What?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m sorry? I don’t. What did I do wrong?” He only shook his head, prompting you further. “Was it what I said or when I said it? Because I don’t think it’s wrong of me to confess what I feel for you when I know that it’s true.”

“It can’t be true. You can’t feel that for me.”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

“Provide me with a reason,” you interrupted, “or let me do as I please. I want to love you. I do, and I won’t apologize for it.” 

“Y/N-”

“We’ve had some tough times together, I know we have, but we’ve gotten through them. We - us, together - have worked through so much to get here. Of course I love you, there’s so much effort and, and, love, that connects us.” You paused, letting your thoughts catch up to your mouth. “You don’t have to say it back. You don’t even have to acknowledge it, if you’re not ready. I know it’s a big step.”

“You can’t go there, Y/N.”

“I know, okay, maybe it was too much, too soon. I’m sor-”

“No, you can’t ever go there. You can’t love me and you shouldn’t. I’m not designed for relationships, they’re not meant for me. Do you not remember the things I’ve done?”

“We’ve talked about this, Kai. You confided in me about your fears, but we handled them, I thought. Do you not remember what I said?”

“I do, but-”

“‘Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway’.”

“By Poe,” Kai finished.

“And it’s true. I don’t care about the things you’ve done. I want to love you, and I do.”

“But you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t excuse the things I’ve done just because you want to see me for someone who I am not. You shouldn’t be so desperate to see a difference in me that you convince yourself you love me.”

“What?! Kai, I’m not excusing nor am I desperate. I know you’re different from the you that wrought pain upon the town. That guy’s gone, buried, with this you in his place. And I quite like this you, and I’ve learned to love him, because his progress is worth loving. He is worth loving. You are.”

“The old Y/N would never say such things about her sworn enemy. You’d never dare hold his hand, nor kiss his lips, nor say such things, because you’d know better, and if you did, it’d be because of some horrible nightmare, or some instance where I spelled you to get what I needed, because Y/N, we’re living in a fantasy, and none of this is real.”

“I don’t understand! This is real! We’re here, together, and we were dancing, and we were happy, and now we’re in this hallway. Still together, but now questioning if the summer we’ve spent together has all been a hoax, or if that’s the booze talking.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“You have to be, to think what you’re saying is true.” You paused, heartbroken, and afraid to show it, but pretty sure the choke in your words already had. “So are you saying you’ve never meant it? All the times you’ve kissed me were just folly? Or the nights we stayed up until the sun rose again were only dreams I made up?”

“That’s not what I meant, Y/N. I know what we’ve done, and I know we’ve shared moments, but a fantasy is all this is for us. Something we want, but cannot have. We have to wake up some day.”

“I disagree, I think we can make it work.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. This was never supposed to be a long-term thing.”

“But we said it could be! We said it could make it work!”

“And that’s what makes it a fantasy! We both know that’s a lie.”

“Kai, I don’t understand. Ten minutes ago, we were fine. Yesterday, you gave me a kiss that swept me off my feet; that replaced all my organs with butterflies; that made me feel like full-bloomed roses on the nicest day of the year. You made me feel cherished, and happy, and beautiful, but now, I feel like I’m on the end of a well-thought out joke, and everyone’s finally allowed to laugh.”

“I’m not saying this to break your heart. I’m just trying to be realistic.” He reached out to wipe a tear from your cheek, but you smacked his thumb away. 

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling, but you still tried to talk through them. “I thought we were being realistic when we stayed up talking, all those nights, about how we knew each other’s flaws but were willing to work through them anyway. I would think, if we weren’t, we wouldn’t have spent a whole week together and considered getting an apartment to share, because we work just that well.”

“That only proves my point further. We haven’t been together long enough to make big decisions like that.”

“Then we’ll put it on pause and address it later.”

“Y/N-”

“Why are you doing this? Why does it seem like you’re giving up on us? Why are your words sounding like a preface to a break up?”

“Because they are,” he confessed, “because they have to be.”

“What do you mean, ‘they have to be?’”

“We can’t work. You can’t love me.”

“But I do, and I want to, and we do! We’ve managed to make it work, despite our-”

“But how long do you think we can keep this up? When will our differences outweigh our desires to stay together? When will we tell your friends about us? My family? We are too different for us to work, and I’m too damaged to be loved by you. We have to stop living in this fantasy.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this. Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“I’m not drunk, Y/N.”

“So what, have you been planning this? Have you been waiting for the perfect time? Funny, that the perfect time seems to be when I tell you I l-”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, “don’t say it again.”

“What?”

“The less you say it, the less you’ll believe it.”

“That’s bullshit. I believe it in the deepest corners of my heart. You’re etched into my bones. You’re the shimmer of light in the darkest parts of my mind. I love you, Kai Parker. I love you, and I don’t want to apologize for it, and I won’t believe that I’ve made this all up in my mind. It’s okay that you don’t love me, but don’t you dare try to say you feel nothing.”

“Y/N-”

“‘Tell me all the terrible things you’ve done, and let me love you anyway’.”

“You can’t. I won’t let you.”

“You don’t have a choice. I don’t. I can’t control my heart nor its desires. It wants you; you have it. Tell me you don’t crave it. I know you crave love, Kai. I know it in the way you kiss me, and in the way you hold me. I know it from the time you confessed, at two in the morning when you were too tired to hold back, and I know it from when you told me, clear as day, on that Wednesday afternoon. I love you, and I’m not afraid to love you. Why don’t you give in to what I know you want?!”

Because your love isn’t mine to take. 

Because I don’t deserve it.

Because you’re a gemstone, perfect and pure, and I’m the dirt from which it was pulled.

“Because I don’t feel the same for you,” he said instead, “I’m not capable of love. I’m a sociopath, and anything I’ve ever said was for my own fleeting pleasure. It’s over now. I’m done. I’m bored with us.”

“What? No. Something’s wrong. This is not the same Kai I spent the summer falling in love with. Are you Damon in disguise? Pulling some sick prank?”

“I’m not, Y/N. It’s me, being realistic, and telling you I don’t love you, and I never will. It’s time to go home, Y/N, and to your own bed, in your own sheets.”

The tears streaming down your face run your make-up, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. “But my sheets smell like you.”

“Then wash them.”

The harshness in his tone was unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. When you finally brought yourself to meet his eyes, there was no light inside them, no humanity. His jaw was tensely set, and for the first time in months, you saw the Kai that everyone feared when he had broken himself free of his eighteen-year punishment. Scared and sorrowful, you backed away from him. He didn’t follow. You backed further and further away until you were stumbling out of the bar. The wicked August heat kissed your neck like he used to -  passionately. You grabbed your hair, fumbling it up into a bun to get it off your skin, then searched for your phone to call a ride. 

As the white sedan approached your meeting spot, you trained your blurry vision on the door, but Kai never came out. He never shouted your name, hurried down the steps, nor caught you in an apologetic embrace, blaming his temporary ignorance on too much to drink. He never peered through a fingerprint-stained window, watching you from the glass, wondering if it's too late to take back what was said. It was just silent, as car engines roared and drunk couples chattered around you. 

When your ride finally came, you cried harder than you ever had in your life. Your driver glanced to the backseat, but didn't know a good time to interrupt, so he didn't. He offered a polite smile as you got out, thanked you for the five-star rating, and made sure you got in your apartment safely before pulling back onto the road. 

You barely made it through the door before crashing on the couch. Exhaustion settled in your bones halfway through the drive, and you couldn’t even think about climbing the stairs. The worst headache of your life pounded in your skull. Water was too far of a walk, so you let it throb. 

You tried your best not to think about Kai. His words rang in your head on repeat like an old antique bell - loud, heavy, constant. It almost felt like the whole night was a fluke. A nightmare. A spell, perhaps done by his father, or one of your disappointed friends. When you wake up, he’d be there, kissing your fingertips as the smell of coffee fills the air. You let this thought comfort you, and let it soften your heart. Although, deep down, you knew the truth. 

He wouldn’t be there. He didn’t want you. 

You’ve never known pain like this before.

♫

You can only ignore your friends for so long. Blaming a long to-do list can only give you so many excuses, and when Caroline messages you mid-afternoon on a Friday if you’d meet them at the Scull Bar, you realize you don’t have any more excuses left. So, cautiously, you pull yourself from your bed and drag your feet to your closet. You still haven’t washed your sheets, despite wanting to be rid of his once-comforting smell. It’s more stubbornness than anything, refusing to do the chore. If he thinks throwing a piece of fabric in the wash will rid you of him, he’s a damn fool.

You hadn’t been lying. He owns a part of your heart, and that can’t be simply washed away with some eco-friendly detergent.

Truthfully, you think, ignoring the heaviness in your bones as you enter the Scull Bar, the only way to remove him would be to carve out your heart entirely; to separate it from its lifeline and from all that’s familiar. But, you can’t, so you choose to let it bleed instead, and hope it doesn’t seep through your clothes. 

A vague sadness hangs above your heads, but none of your friends know the cause. You told them you were tired before joining them. You must not have gotten a good night’s sleep.

After all, it’s the first time in Mystic Falls where something tragic isn’t happening. Damon and Elena are planning out their lives, Stefan and Caroline are newly together, and Bonnie and Enzo, a quite unexpected pair, seem to be happy. Jo is five months pregnant, and Kai has left her alone. The girls wonder if that’s of his own volition, or if someone or something is distracting him, but you don’t offer any suggestions. When they then ask you about your own dating life, you only shrug. They tease playfully, having no idea about the wreckage your heart is still trying to piece back together. The cause seems hopeless. You don’t even have the energy to confide in them. 

The topic finally changes, but only because the one who dropped your glass heart enters. You turn when you catch a bit of his familiar cologne, but remind yourself he’s no longer yours and turn again just as fast. The girls let their gazes linger on him as if daring him to bother them, and for a moment, Kai wonders if you told them. But then, as they shrug and go back to their conversation, he knows you didn’t. Otherwise, they’d be hurling bitter words and sharp tools at him for breaking their best friend’s heart. 

And honestly, he wishes they were. 

It’s what he deserves, after all. 

♫

“I love you,” you had said, only a couple weeks ago. 

His heart stopped. His throat went dry. 

The words seemed to have been shouted at him, despite the booming bass around them. You weren’t yelling, though, you were simply telling the truth. 

A truth he wasn’t ready to hear. A confession he didn’t know how to process. 

How could you, a perfect person, love him, someone so tainted and dark? 

How could he ever love you the way you deserved? 

He did love you, of course. He knew it long before you ever confessed, but it was never something he felt okay to share. 

You always made him feel safe. Comfortable. Dare he say it, loved. 

But love was something he had never felt before, and to have something means that it can be lost. And to not lose it tragically, he must be the one to take it away. 

Hearing the words fall from your lips was both the best and the worst thing he could ever hear. He craves love, he knows he’s admitted it. He craves it more than anything else in the world. But wanting it and having it are two very different things, and now that he has it, he regrets asking for it. 

He had to hurt you then, before your soul could be completely shattered later. He had to stop it. Right then. Before he let you in too much and you got too attached.

So, he lied. 

He broke his own heart with every word, but it was nothing compared to the damage he knew it was doing to your own. He wanted nothing more than to sweep you into his arms, hold you tightly, and say it was all just a spell - an outside force trying to drive you apart - but he couldn’t. His fear of hurting you triumphed over his love for you. His mouth spoke before his mind could process the words he professed. He became unrecognizable to himself by the time he delivered his final blow. Your tears stained your perfect face and your posture was defeated, but he was no longer the one that could offer any solace. He was now the one that ruined you, and there was no coming back from what he had done. 

How terrifying it is, that three little words can make or break you. 

How terrifying it was, to wake up the next morning and realize the damage caused. To have to come to terms with the fact that he had broken the only good thing in his life. To imagine the love of his life sitting on the couch, stirring coffee, with a head full of questions neither will ever be able to answer. 

“I love you, Kai Parker. I love you, and I don’t want to apologize for it…”

“I love you,” ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?

[whoslaurapalmer]

twin peaks but it happens in 2010. laura palmer have iphone etc etc

this ask has been haunting me since i saw it last night oh my god okay okay so

i wanted to lead with laura being an influencer but no one was quite influencing in 2010 yet. but the point here being that i think she posts a lot online and cultivates her online image very carefully (very soft, carefree, excited teenager) and has a LOT of followers on everything and always gets a ton of likes. bc it's laura, she's so beautiful and special and popular, of course everyone is following her, of course everyone is liking all her posts to get a piece of her

she has a twitter (laurapalmer93) where she posts a lot of pictures with little captions like.......'morning donuts at the diner!!' with a picture of the donuts and a milkshake or a Coffee To Be An Adult, 'can you believe this guy? <3' with a picture of bobby making a face (or even.........dare i say it...........doing the dougie), a picture of donna and james with '<33333333' (modern emojis were just getting really big then but i myself was not a big emoji user in 2010 yet, so neither is laura), 'don't tell ;)' with a picture of her holding a cigarette (of course everyone still smokes in the high school bathrooms).

one time she gets away with posting the lyrics to if i die young by the band perry (IF I DIE YOUNG! BURY ME IN SATIN! LAY ME DOWN ON A BED OF ROSES!) (FUNNY WHEN YOU'RE DEAD HOW PEOPLE START LISTENING!) bc it's a popular song. it raises a few eyebrows but it's a song and it's laura. how seriously do you take teen angst, even among your friends? that's just what laura does. what's there to really worry about, huh? (the song was released in may 2010 but let's say the lead up to her death is in 2010)

on facebook she posts a lot of volunteer stuff. school dance photos, which she helps organize. buy some cookies to support the french club!! she's very involved with student council, and she organizes the group halloween costume. her facebook is filled with photos of her with other people, but not really any of just her. she doesn't post a lot of statuses, but they're usually about homework or tests or 'feels like summer!' towards the end of the school year. she's friends with her parents. she definitely takes ap classes.

she has a private vent twitter (lostinthewoods) with zero followers that she uses as a diary bc she thinks it'll be safer than having it physically written down. her childhood lisa frank diary with the tiny lock and glitter gel pens that she kept in her bed post went missing, after all. her vent twitter is filled with sooooooo many tweets bc this was still the 160 character limit days and she would just post and post and post especially late at night. (she definitely has string lights in her room.) she is a MASTER of using her phone with no one seeing -- she has the layout absolutely memorized. she was only caught texting in class once and of course the teacher let it go.

bob/leland finds her passwords and breaks into the vent twitter and leaves her horrifying tweets she sees later, instead of the back and forth they have in the diary and leland ripping the pages out.

i think she has a third twitter, for sex, but i'm not sure if that tracks for the time period? (snapchat wasn't a thing until fall 2011.) or like a forum sort of thing? i think it's still super easy for laura to sneak out, even in an increased security camera world. there's still a lot of stress on the, yknow, ~secret unexposed underbelly of the world especially in a time of more eyes on everything~ in the 2010s.

meanwhile, james posts music a lot on facebook, and also acoustic covers of songs. like. yknow. HEY SOUL SISTER. donna loves the original pusheen stickers. they record the picnic video on her flip video camera. mike loves icanhascheezburger, and he jailbreaks his phone. audrey gets really into audrey hepburn quote posting, Aesthetic France, black and white photos, berets, has a photography phase and carries and actual camera bc it's Vintage. she's an early tumblr user. no one else in school has a tumblr yet, so she feels very cool but also very lonely about it.

harry has very little understanding of social media, however cooper is very into all social media, he finds it delightful. he enjoys a good cat video. he looks through all of laura's photos, her tweets, facebook videos, and i think there's, honestly even more of a feeling of tragedy bc of how much more physical evidence there is available of laura's life, lingering fingerprints, last tweets, last posts, passwords to put in and information to see, cold blue computer light, the even worse voyeurism in people expecting so much of your life to be online, in watching it play out online, in the image laura created for herself online to be the person people expected

donna rereads laura's twitter in the dead of night, just over and over again. goes back through their texts. so much of grief has become so much more public with social media and using it as a teenager, and there's this back and forth in donna of not posting anything and then posting the most miserable statuses about losing her best friend.

i know i should get deeper into the investigation but i keep thinking instead of how laura definitely gets a 20/20 special. it's probably definitely called 'the secret life of the american teenager.' (bc there was that show on at the time with the same name) elizabeth vargas visits twin peaks, is appropriately grim, there's a lot of b roll of the town and the woods but without the grace of twin peaks' cinematography. they play up the creation of a narrative big, as they always do on 20/20. the revelation of her 'double life' is at the halfway mark and simultaneously not discussed enough and overestimated. 'laura palmer was your average, everyday teenager -- she liked horses. cats. she got good grades, was homecoming queen, had a boyfriend on the football team. she volunteered on weekends. she had her whole life ahead of her. or was there more to the story than anyone knew? was there a dark side to the all-american girl?' oh, it's agonizing. the trailers play up a lot of potential spooky woods stuff that isn't followed through on in the actual episode.

now 20/20 prides itself on getting the story right, so i feel like it's.........i feel like they have to say it's leland at the end (and they definitely never get into anything about bob). but i also think, for some reason, it could easily have a 'we never found the killer' ending. especially re: s3........the thing is, i feel like laura's death particularly is the kind of thing that shows up on 20/20, but the rest of the circumstances would've ended up on like the unsolved mysteries website (the last revival ended in 2010, before the netflix reboot in 2019) (especially with WELL OUR FBI AGENT WENT MISSING). and there's so much online to put together in a website about it, there's so much for people online to dig into who have never even been to twin peaks, to think they know a town and the people in it and the girl who died even if it's just literally THE MOST DISGUSTING VOYEURISM IN THE WHOLE WORLD i just think there's such a. horror in that. people have the most, just, enraging takes when they get involved in a Murder That Happened Somewhere Else. people thinking they alone can figure out a mystery they've never seen, they can of course see something no one else has. and it's different than the people in the town ignoring it -- i think a lot of the secrets in twin peaks stay the same, no matter the time period, so of course it's still, a terrible dying town killing the people in it, maybe even quieter than it is in the original, some new infrastructure but old buildings, not all of them occupied anymore, ANYWAY -- like of course yes people in the town ignore the same amount they did in the original, all small towns bury things. but just bc the town itself isn't paying attention doesn't mean that some rando online is going to know more, no matter how much they think they will. there's like an entitlement to details of a murder, an I Must Be The Hero, The Savior, bc i'm on a fucking reddit thread about it

now i have zero (0) idea of how medical science and forensics work, but i have to assume there have been some advancements in the field between 1989/1990 and 2010/2011. the town still rushes the funeral, but would albert have been able to find anything else sooner? what is it he would have found to point to leland sooner? oh........dna testing, maybe? would he be able to find out about leland right away? there's more of a sense of urgency, maybe less of a slowness between events, even more of a shattering horror. maybe leland goes missing in an attempt to cover things up. hmmmmmm.

final note -- cooper gets called mulder as a nickname bc the x files happened as a show in this universe.

[ferrstappen]

Taylor Swift l The Collection

this is the masterlist for a series of one shots, scenarios that have come up while listening to different Taylor Swifts albums, with different drivers from the grid <3

Back to December l Charles Leclerc

and I think about summer, all the beautiful times, I watched you laughing from the passenger side.

summary: she cursed herself every day for being scared of falling for him, because he wasn't afraid of loving her.

You Belong With Me l George Russell

if you could see that I'm the one who understands you, been here all along, so why can't you see? You belong with me.

summary: she had the worst luck because her best friend was a serial dater, but she knows him better than any of his girlfriends, and she needs him to know.

august l Lando Norris

wanting was enough, for me it was enough.

summary: every single one of her friends warned her that he was fresh out of a relationship. his friends whispered that he had been so in love just a couple of weeks ago and now he was holding hands with someone else. but she didn't care.

Enchanted l Lance Stroll

this night is sparkling, don't you let it go. I'm wonderstruck blushing all the way home

summary: forced small talk, tiny pieces of fancy finger food, and long flutes of champagne, but after they saw each other... small talk became a little bigger, laughter falling a bit more freely.

Ours l Max Verstappen

so don't you worry your pretty little mind, people throw rocks at things that shine.

summary: he was always in the eye of the hurricane; some days because of his talents, others because of his character, but it didn't matter when he got home and walked holding her hand.

Girl At Home l Daniel Ricciardo

don't look at me, you got a girl at home and everybody knows that.

summary: she knew he had someone back in Australia waiting for him. but she was so far away, and he needed to be comforted, now.

Begin Again l Pierre Gasly

he didn't like it when I wore high heels, but I do.

summary: she was used to the bare minimum, maybe even a little less than that. and then he came in, waiting for her to order first during their first date.

Long Live l Esteban Ocon

of all the years that we stood there on the sidelines, wishing for right now.

summary: Esteban Ocon (aka the biggest Spiderman fan, according to himself) tried to bribe his girlfriend, gave her the silent treatment, he called her out during race weekends, but Marvel was just too good keeping their secrets. (actress!reader)

False God l Carlos Sainz Jr.

but we might just get away with it.

summary: it was just the third race of the calendar when he walked inside her hotel room, telling her that they could try it... and HR would never know.

Speak Now l Max Verstappen

fond gestures are exchanged, and the organ starts to play a song that sounds like a death march.

summary: His mind was spinning. Get up, sit down! Speak up, shut up! You already lost her, you broke up with her! Nobody would've guessed everything that was going on inside Max's head as he watched her put on her white dress.

Sparks Fly l Charles Leclerc

give me something that will haunt me when you're not around

summary: she liked telling people that she was done with love, but shit... his green eyes made her want to jump into his arms and love him to the best of her ability.

Happiness l Charles Leclerc

there'll be happiness after you, but there was happiness because of you.

summary: they were going to be fine, relationships come to an end eventually... but he was focused on his job, and she was watching him through the screen.

illicit affairs l Carlos Sainz Jr.

and you know damn well, for you I'd ruin myself.

summary: it wasn't fair that he made her fall in love with him, not when he took her heart for granted and his heart started beating for some other girl.

[stressedbisexualtm]

[< - LOTS OF WORDS - >]

trafficblr, hear me out on this:

We've all seen the idea that the life series are seasons, right? I normally see it like this: third life - winter, last life - spring, double life - summer, limited life - fall/autumn. But I think of it more like this: third life - fall, last life - winter, double life - spring, limited life - summer. Listen:

I think it would be more interesting (and true to the series) if third life was fall. The main reason people say third life is winter is of course because of the "RED WINTER IS COMING!" line, but the truth is, red winter was on its way. Red winter was coming, but first comes fall. People are more tight-knit in third life, always staying true to their real, solid, established alliance, and we see this all the way until the end of the series. It reminds me of fall, but I can't explain how. I feel like the visuals of the season match up, with the lighter greens and browns that cover most of the server, the stone of the Crastle and Dogwarts, and the tans and yellows of the desert. People are getting nervous, scared, and towards the end, more bloodthirsty than before. As the final battle of dogwarts begins, you can see the first snows of a very, very painful winter. Grian, being the winner, shares some of these traits. He's quick to judge and slow to make allies, unsure of who might betray who next. He does keep his closest ally with him until the very end, where they decide theyre going to win together no matter what. Grian, at the end, is tired of the nervousness and painful loyalty that comes with autumn. He is ready for winter to begin.

And so we move on to last life. Here, at last, is our red winter. Death is rampant and vicious here, our first red name appearing in only episode 2. Everyone is cold this season- when you're red, you're out. There are no true alliances or friends, though people tend to fall into patterns when they need to. The reds are much more bloodthirsty this season, being unable to contain themselves around anyone else (though we see our one or two exceptions). So by the time the canary falls, this season's fate is sealed in a bloodbath. No one who has made it this far is arguing that winter this year is red. This season was much more muted visually, the world being covered in dark greens, browns, and greys, as well as the snow covering a decent portion of the map (again, playing into the winter theme). Scott started the series warm, and while he never did get that bitter edge winter has, he was certainly ready to grow outward again into spring.

Double life. A brand new season, full of hope and expectancy, though that fades as time goes on (like things that only bloom in spring). It's new, it's exciting, and for some, it's full of love (as spring is typically seen). Things get intense, but there's always this air of excited mystery. Everyone has played at least one game before, so they know what to expect. Or they think they do, because at every turn there is something new. Secret soulmates? Why not! Leaving your soulmate and choosing someone else? Wonderful! FISHING A WARDEN TO DEATH?! Well, anything for the content.... Pearl, to me, also fits her season. She starts out excited to meet her soulmate, albeit a bit nervous, but she's turned away almost immediately. And, well, who could blame her if she cried? (After all, 'april showers bring may flowers', or whatever it was) She picks herself back up (a plant budding after its flower falls off) and makes it alone. She makes it to summer. And if, in the end, she learned how to plant her seeds, who was going to stop her?

And, well, limited life. Alliances, while having establishing members, are flimsy and easily remade. Everyone is wild, and spontaneous, and most people aren't really gunning to win anymore. There are go-getters, and nobody likes losing (they'd like winning even less..), but no one is playing as seriously as they were before. Everyone has played at least 2 games by now, most have played 3, and this time around dying doesn't even cost you a whole life! It only costs you 30 minutes, which out of 24 hours? Basically nothing until you hit red. Alliances shift with the wind, and not everyone is quite playing by the rules. In the end, Martyn wins. Martyn is... a wild card. He could be like summer, if he wanted to. He could be like spring, or fall, or winter. He's a traveler, a shifter, a knight, anything he needs to be. And if that doesn't go with the fluidity and changeability of this season, then I don't know who else could have won.

[sluttyten]

You In My Arms

Chapter 2: In the Dark

full masterlist || haechan masterlist || YIMA chapter index

summary: You want to be the star of your own love story instead of watching your friends fall in love around you. Just one night opens your eyes to a method to put yourself in a starring role, even if it's not quite in the way you'd always imagined.

length: 11,005

tags: slowburn, friends to lovers, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation (public & in private), general perversion, smut

previous chapter || next chapter

Haechan was your first love. 

You met him at a formative time in your life, when you were getting your first true taste of freedom after moving away to attend the university of your dreams. 

At first Haechan was just the funny guy in your orientation group, but then you started seeing him around campus from time to time, noticed that he sat in the middle of the large forum classroom your Psych class was held in, and then you discovered that his friends were friends with some of yours. Your circles overlapped, you were actually both studying for the same degree, and you took full advantage of both of those facts to ingratiate yourself into his life. 

His name was Lee Donghyuck, but his friends called him Haechan. 

The first time he smiled at you with his full, bright smile and told you to call him Haechan, you felt like your heart liquefied in your chest, filling you with this molten feeling of happiness. 

But despite how hard and fast you fell for him, Haechan didn’t look at you as anything more than just one of his friends. You knew why. There was another girl in the group he had his eye on, though he never made a move on her either. You watched for years as all of you danced around each other. She dated several guys and slept around; Haechan slept around a good amount; and you did your very best to fall out of love with a guy you were fairly certain wasn’t interested. 

Your mutual group of friends wasn’t one that necessarily drew lines when it came to relationships. Pretty much everyone had kissed or slept with everyone else, either directly or indirectly. You’d had your share of flings with some of the guys. A whirlwind romance over the summer between your second and third years at university with Mark, then a good portion of your third year you and Xiaojun had been fuckbuddies. 

But through it all, your foolish heart was set on one man. Haechan. 

It wasn’t until your last year at school that you finally saw an opportunity, a little chance for Haechan to move on from your other friend. She started sneaking around with Shotaro, and though no one called them out on it, you thought they were being pretty obvious. Disappearing together at parties, suddenly hanging out together a lot more. 

But they kept it secret, so you never said a word, figuring they would tell all of you when they were ready. 

Your fourth year of study was nearing the halfway point, and this semester felt the most brutal yet. The finish line was nearly in sight, and that was equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. Your whole future lay on the other side of that line, and sure, you still had the rest of this semester and the next before graduation, but really that was only a few short months away. 

On a long holiday weekend, your friend group planned a camping trip. Someone in the group knew someone who knew someone (a dad’s cousin’s brother-in-law’s kid type of situation) that had a lakefront property that they usually rented out to tourists, set up for glamping and boating and all sorts of things that could keep all of you well preoccupied for a weekend. A deal was made with that distant acquaintance, and your group of friends was given free rein of the property for the weekend. 

You arrived late Friday night with the last of your friends. Of course, the ones that had gotten there earlier in the day had claimed the best rooms, and since you were among the last, you were stuck just wherever, which meant that you were meant to sleep in the room with Karina and Winter, which wasn’t the worst place you could think to sleep, but it wasn’t the best either. They were fine, usually friendly, but among all of your friends, you were probably the least close with them. 

So you slept in the room that night, feeling like you were invading the two girls’ space, and first thing on Saturday morning, you were up and ready for the day to start. 

It was a beautiful day. Since Xiaojun was studying culinary arts, he made a very nice breakfast for all of you, while YangYang – who spenting most weekends bartending – made mimosas. 

Starting out, everything was great. 

It was sunny and warm, the water was perfect. There was a nice little beach, a boat, a dock. Some people played in the water, a few people left to hike on trails in the woods around the lake, you played a round of beach volleyball. 

It was a fun day except that Xiaojun kept sticking rather close to your side. It would have been fine if his intentions were just friendly, but it was the way he kept trying to flirt with you that put a slight downer on the day. Every time you tried to put some distance between you and him, he would find you again. 

You liked him as a friend, but what you’d had with him the previous year was in the past. You weren’t interested in being anything more than friends with him right now. 

At one point, you’d gone out to the end of the dock, hoping that you’d finally get the chance to be alone. Karina was floating on a fancy blow-up pool float that she’d somehow tethered to the dock to keep from floating off into the lake, but she was minding her own business, and you didn’t think she would bother you. 

But then you hear footsteps behind you, and you’re ready to turn around and fuss at Xiaojun to just leave you alone, but then Haechan plops down beside you. He calls over to Karina, and you watch her flick a mildly irritated look at him, but true to character, Haechan doesn’t let that deter him. He slips into the water, and swims right over to her. 

You try to ignore both of them as you lie down on your back on the weathered boards. A light breeze keeps the heat off the sun from fully baking you, and your feet are in the lake water, helping a bit with combating the heat too. You can hear Haechan and Karina talking, hear them laughing, hear voices carrying over the water from the beach behind you. 

Eventually, Haechan lifts himself back up into the dock, spraying you with tiny droplets of water. You’re about to complain about that when Haechan speaks instead. 

“Hey, man!” Haechan calls out in greeting. You don’t even have to look to know who it is going to be. “That breakfast this morning was great.”

“Thanks,” Xiaojun says appreciatively as he approaches. “I have plans for dinner tonight too.”

“He’s using us as a test for his restaurant plans,” you say, tilting your head and squinting in the sunlight. The shadowy figures of Xiaojun and Haechan stand there above you. “You’re both blocking my light.”

Which is how you come to be sunbathing and cloudgazing with Xiaojun and Haechan. Xiaojun’s arm rests against yours, he keeps tapping his foot against your ankle every few minutes too, and you know exactly why he’s being like this. Maybe if he would just come out and ask if you would have sex with him, you would, but he’s just constantly trying to initiate contact and being clingy instead, and you’re not enjoying that. But Haechan’s presence, on the other hand, is something you are enjoying. 

He’s in a particularly good mood, chatty and laughing, pointing up at the clouds to tell you what shapes he sees. 

“I used to do this a lot when I was younger,” he tells you. “My family lives in Jeju, and sometimes my younger siblings and I would just lie on the beach when we got too tired of playing, and we would look up at the clouds.”

You turn your head, resting your cheek on the warm boards beneath you as you look over at Haechan. He’s just gazing up at the sky, one arm lifted to point at a specific cloud that you have no interest in gazing at right now. You’re looking at him beside you, sunlight personified with his golden skin and bright smile. He’s talking and Xiaojun is too, but you’re not listening to either of them. 

And then Haechan looks over at you, and you snap your head around to look up at the clouds again. 

The rest of the day passes. Dinner preparations begin. You disappear inside to shower the feel of sweat, sunscreen, sand, and lakewater off of you. As evening sinks in, the air cools off, so you dress warmer before you return outside to sit by the fire. Most people are gathered out here, though a few of your friends are still inside cleaning themselves up or finishing up preparing food, but you find Haechan sitting in a foldable camp chair with an open seat right beside him. 

You take it. 

He flinches, startled at your sudden appearance, but he relaxes as you start talking. You talk about school of all things – you’d not thought ahead to figure out anything else to talk about right now, only knowing that you wanted to talk with him. But you do end up offering him some study help, and your heart beats a little faster when you think about the chance to be alone with Haechan in a study room in the library or at his dorm maybe. You enjoy Haechan’s presence, so you’ll take any opportunity to be alone with him, even if it is just to study.

“I might take you up on that. But like you said, this is a nice break,” he sighs, and tips his head back, looking similar to how he’d looked earlier on the dock. “I feel like this weekend we can all just relax and let loose.”

You want to let loose, really. To be a little careless tonight and just let your walls fall down, maybe use the excuse of some alcohol to kiss Haechan, to entice him into bed, and if it’s weird in the morning then you can just blame it on the alcohol. Your mind plays with the idea of drunkenly kissing Haechan tonight, sliding into his lap here at the bonfire to kiss him in front of all of your friends. You can already imagine the hoots, whistles, and catcalls, the sounds of surprise because none of them would expect something like that of you. 

You want to let loose, to look as carefree and relaxed as Haechan does. 

Haechan looks over at you, and you realize you’re smiling. He smiles too, an almost involuntary curve of his lips to match your own. 

"When do you ever hold back from letting loose, Lee Donghyuck?" You ask, feeling a happy laugh bubble from your lips. He always seems so carefree, very go-with-the-flow and happy. The idea of Haechan needing to become more loose makes you laugh. 

You see a hint of surprise in his eyes before he’s laughing with you. And then you’re laughing even harder, both of you leaning in towards each other with the gravity of the emotions. 

To no one’s surprise, least of all your own, Xiaojun appears to take the seat on your other side, wondering what you’re both laughing about. He does his very best to steal your attention away from Haechan, and it actually works. 

You do like Xiaojun, he’s a good friend, which is why your friends with benefits relationship had worked out so well for so long last year; he knows the right things to say to you, so you are fully swept into a new conversation with him, and when you next look around, Haechan is gone. 

You try not to let your disappointment show, but you think it must anyway because Xiaojun seems to make it his purpose for the rest of the evening to cheer you up. The food does a good job of that, and then Xiaojun and Chenle’s company does well at keeping you entertained as night falls, a chill creeping in off the lake, and YangYang’s alcoholic creations – as well as a typical cooler of beer – make their rounds. 

You don’t really pay too much attention to the rest of your friends while Chenle is regaling you with a tale of a trip he took, and you’re definitely not paying attention to how much other people are drinking, until you start hearing raised voices, teasing laughter, and Haechan’s voice cutting above the rest. You turn to look. 

They’re teasing Shotaro again, that quickly becomes obvious. 

He’s sitting there in his seat beside your friend he’s secretly been hooking up with for weeks now, and he looks a little embarrassed, but he’s still in the stage of not minding it. But Haechan is the one leading the teasing, and as you watch, you can tell that he’s setting Shotaro’s girl off, she’s getting rather prickly. 

You can tell Haechan is a bit more drunk than most other people. There’s a flush to his cheeks and his neck, a hazy gleam to his eyes, a slight slur to his speech. He’s not wasted, but he’s more drunk than not. He’s just teasing, and as you listen to him, you realize that he’s throwing a few barbed points in there, like he knows something most of your friends don’t. 

Does he know about the secret relationship too?

She gets all defensive, throwing some shots back at Haechan, and that’s when you see the drunken haze clear in his eyes, replaced by an angry heat as she calls his skills in bed into question. The teasing has become an argument, and you watch as Haechan rises to his feet, ready to face off with the girl, and he likely would have if it weren’t for Shotaro and Renjun stepping in. 

Renjun propels Haechan back into the cabin while Shotaro leads his girlfriend off towards the dark lakeshore. 

“Wow,” Xiaojun whistles beside you. “What the hell was that about?”

Chenle laughs. “Taro and her have something going on, don’t they? And Haechan is jealous.”

You keep glancing towards the house, looking for any sign of Renjun and Haechan returning. It was both a little bit scary and also arousing to watch Haechan get so heated. He had been a little bit of a dick, trying to out the secret couple to everyone, and also for really getting in there with teasing Shotaro. 

You’d once talked about it with Shotaro, and he told you that he usually didn’t mind the teasing, because he knew it was lighthearted and it’s just the way that all of the friends teased each other. But you also knew that sometimes it got taken a bit too far, and it was clear that tonight the scales had tipped more in that direction. Haechan had almost pushed it too far tonight, and you knew he was drunk so his judgment was perhaps a bit impaired in that regard. 

Eventually the happy couple returns to the bonfire, receiving congratulations from your friends, and a while after that Haechan returns. 

You keep looking at him, unable to keep your eyes off of him for too long. The flush has faded from his cheeks, and he keeps drinking water for the rest of the night while he snacks on leftovers from dinner, on s’mores YangYang makes, on snacks that people had brought down from the cabin earlier. 

Slowly everyone turns in for the night until only a few of you remain, the number dwindling down to just you, Xiaojun, Jeno, Mark, Haechan, Shotaro, and Shotaro’s girlfriend. 

Haechan has been moodily staring into the fire for the past fifteen minutes. You’ve been watching him do that while ignoring the way that Xiaojun has his hand resting in the armrest of your chair, palm-up like he wants you to take notice, as if he’s hoping that you’ll take his hand and go into one of the fancy glamping tents that are set up sporadically between the cabin and the lakeshore. 

It’s gotten a lot colder as the night has drawn on. Even with your pants and sweatshirt, with a blanket draped over your lap and the blazing fire, you still feel chilled every time that a lick of wind blows in off the lake. It doesn’t help that your feet are bare, so you pull them up beneath your blanket as you shiver. 

Xiaojun notices of course, and he grabs the blanket someone had left on the chair on his other side, and he covers your lap with it. If you’re this cold that you need a second blanket, you think maybe it’s time that you go inside the warmer cabin for the night. Besides, it’s getting late.

Jeno, who you’re fairly certain has been in a competition with himself for how much he can drink tonight without getting blackout drunk, grins crookedly, and suggests, “Maybe before we head in, we all take a dip in the hot tub?”

“Nah, I think I’m done for the night,” Mark sighs and rises to his feet. “It’s too cold.”

“I’m sure it helps that you’ve got someone new to warm your bed though, I bet, Mark!” Jeno laughs as Mark gets up and starts to walk away. 

You laugh along with the rest, knowing that Jeno’s referring to how Mark and one of the girls had disappeared into the cabin for a while earlier tonight. Mark just flips you all his middle finger. 

To your surprise, it’s the new happy couple on the other side of the fire that agrees with Jeno. Haechan lifts his gaze from the fire, brushing it over the couple, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he looks at Jeno. Haechan shrugs and agrees, and from there of course you’re going to agree too. Xiaojun, to your complete surprise, decides that he’s just going to head to bed. 

Xiaojun trudges back to the house alone, wishing you all a good night. The five of you follow the path back up to the cabin’s deck, walking around the side of the deck to the hot tub. 

You feel only slightly embarrassed as you watch the others quickly strip their clothes off. Shirts, sweatshirts, pants until they’re left only in their underwear. Haechan at least still had his swim trunks on from earlier today when everyone had been in the lake, so he’s provided a bit more coverage than the rest of you. You feel his eyes dart over to you as you’re the last to let your shirt fall, the last to shimmy your sweatpants down to your ankles, slipping them off along with your socks. 

You’re too aware that the bra and panties you’re wearing are mismatched. Panties white (a horrible choice for wearing into a hot tub, but it’s not like when you’d dressed earlier this evening you’d expected the night to go like this) and your bra just a lacy bralette that hugs your tits and does very little to hide the way that your nipples peak in the cool night air. You quickly step into the hot tub and dunk yourself in up to your chin, hoping the bubbling surface will hide you. 

It doesn’t take long for you to relax. None of them care or notice. Shotaro and his sweetheart are too enamored with each other. Jeno is finally teetering on the edge of dozy drunkenness. Haechan keeps alternating between looking up at the night sky and trying not to look at the girl tucked against Shotaro’s side. He’s sitting beside you though, and his knee keeps nudging yours under the water. 

One of the jets sits between you and Haechan, and it keeps brushing your side and your thigh, tickling you in a way that thrills you more than anything else. A different wet heat builds between your legs, especially when Haechan leans over to laugh at something you’ve said and he rests a hand momentarily on your thigh. 

You try to ignore your desires. To push it all down and tell yourself that you’re being stupid right now. 

But then his arm drapes over your shoulders (and Jeno’s on his other side, but you pretend that doesn’t matter) and all thoughts vanish except for your brain making a static moan at the feeling of his body warm and hard against your side, his fingers resting against your upper arm. His laugh sounds right beside your ear. 

You don’t even remember what it is that all of you talk about. Maybe classes. Maybe finals coming up or plans for the winter break that follows. It’s not until you smile at the cuddly couple across from you, until Haechan tenses up and withdraws his arm from your shoulders that your mind snaps back into place. 

He stands up and you lift your gaze in awe of him. Water drips from his shoulders over his chest and down his stomach to his navel and his hips. The swim trunks hang low on his hips, weighed down by the water soaking them, drawing your gaze even lower. You bite your tongue as you notice the slight bulge in the front of his shorts, and again you feel a pulse of need and want in your core. 

Haechan doesn’t say a word, just climbs out, grabs his clothes and disappears around the corner of the cabin. 

Is that it? He’s done for the night? He’s had enough of the happy couple rubbing it in his face?

You immediately want to follow him, but you give it a few minutes before you bid the others goodnight, and you hurriedly pull yourself from the water, cursing as the bitter air bites in deep. Even once you’ve bundled your dry clothes against your chest and made a run for the back door of the cabin, you’re shivering and wishing one of you had at least thought to grab towels. 

Jeno’s only a few steps behind you. He looks happy as he comes through the door, a loose grin on his lips. He drops his armful of clothes into one of the chairs around the small kitchen table, mumbles a goodnight, and then he vanishes through the doorway that leads to the room several of the guys are sharing tonight. 

There’s a vent blowing warm air positioned right beside the kitchen table, and as a shiver wracks your body, you collapse into one of the chairs right there. You fold your arms on the table, drop your forehead onto your arms, and you try to purge your mind and body of the lust you’re feeling from the sight of Haechan emerging from the hot tub like a sea god. 

It doesn’t work. 

Your mind’s eye keeps honing in on that bulge you’d seen. You’ve heard tales before of Haechan. He’s a little bit of a manwhore at times, slept with plenty of girls you’ve been friends with, so you’ve got some awareness of what he’s like. You’ve got a mental image painted by a very descriptive sex-positive friend of yours majoring in the liberal arts. She has an emphasis in painting and poetry, both of which she has created for almost all of her partners including Haechan. 

So you have a somewhat specific idea of what his dick may look like, and a more general idea of what kind of skills he might possess, and neither of those things are what you need right now when you’re desperately horny and stuck in a house with all of your friends and zero privacy. 

But they are all sleeping, right? Karina and Winter had turned in rather early, so they’re probably deep into REM sleep, so if you just quietly come into the room, maybe you can try to quietly rub one out before sleep. Or you could try to sneak into the shower. It would be nice and warm in there, private too.

Before you can make a decision, you hear the squeak of a floorboard, and the soft sound of bare feet on the floor. You turn your head so you can see who it is. 

Haechan. 

His eyes land on you, a glimmer of surprise and then his face lights up.

“Are you just gonna sleep out here?” He teases. “You know the King bed upstairs is still open if it’s the idea of rooming with Karina and Winter that has you scared to sleep in there.” 

You have nothing against those two. They’re nice and friendly, but you’re not terribly close with them, and when you’d placed your bag on the bottom bunk the previous evening upon your arrival, they’d exchanged looks that made you feel like they’d rather share the room themselves without your presence. Last night had been fine, and it’s not the reason you’re lingering out here at all. 

Haechan looks at you, like really looks at you, and suddenly you remember that you’re still in just your bralette and panties, still clinging wetly and semi-transparently to you. All of you is exposed in that moment. A blush rises hotly to your cheeks as you rock up to your feet. You press your clothes close to your chest again.

“Why is no one sleeping up there?” You ask, glancing at the set of stairs that leads up to the only King bed in the cabin. 

“A few of us played for it last night. Winner got the single room.” He grins, and proudly tells you. “I won. But I’m not tired yet, so you’re definitely welcome to sleep up there if you want.”

Your heart stutters briefly in your chest. “And what about when you do get tired? Where are you gonna sleep then?” 

He shrugs. “That’s a problem for then. I’m gonna head back outside. Fire’s still going so someone should probably keep an eye on it.”

Haechan reaches for the doorknob of the door, and right as it turns in his hand, the words leap out of you: “When you get tired, Haechan….” He turns to look at you, and his eyes are gentle and deep, and you forget your words for a moment. “Uh, well… it’s a big bed. I'm happy to share.”

You’re definitely a little bit in love with the way he smiles then. This slow smile, surprised and leaning a little bit towards a smirk. His eyes sweep over you quickly, from your bare toes curling on the floor up to your face which feels hot right now.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Haechan says, and then he’s gone, stepping out into the night. 

Goosebumps rise on your skin, and you’re not entirely sure if it’s from the cool breeze that snuck inside or if it’s just a chill running down your spine at your own boldness in inviting Haechan to join you in bed. Maybe not necessarily in the way that you want him, but certainly in more of a way than you’ve had him before. 

Almost as soon as the back door clicks shut again, you’re off, hurrying up the stairs and taking the turn to the King bedroom. The other doors up here are closed, and when you step inside this room, immediately you’re assaulted with the smell of Haechan’s favored fragrance. You’ve asked him before what it is, but you never remember. All you know is that this room now smells like him. 

You close the door behind you, and you don’t even bother to turn on the lights. This room is situated on the corner of the house, and with windows on two of the walls, you’re provided just enough light to see by. The flickering of the firelight barely comes through the window to your left, and the window right ahead of you is filled with the glow of the lights strung through the pergola over the hot tub. 

The bed is still unmade from when Haechan left it this morning. His bag is on the desk, several of his clothes flung around. There’s a door slightly ajar that leads to an en-suite bathroom. You should probably shower again after being in the hot tub, but now that you’re this close to the bed you’re not feeling like doing anything more than just crawling into bed and passing out. 

Before you succumb to the lure of sleep, you take a moment to peek out the window facing the lakeshore and the bonfire. You can see the bonfire still going, see the chairs still circled around it as well as the two fancy glamping tents that no one has used yet, except Xiaojun when he took a nap earlier. 

But you don’t see Haechan. 

You scan the shadows, wondering if you’ve somehow overlooked him. 

And then you notice a shadow stretching across the deck beneath you. A long shadow originating from the corner of the house, just out of sight. It’s definitely a man-shaped shadow, the lights over the hot tub cast the shadow diagonally backwards across the deck until it fades in the light coming from the back door. You notice the shadow isn’t moving, and you’re curious as to why. 

You just barely manage to not stub your toe or trip over anything as you move across to the other window, the one looking down just around the corner of the house. 

A quiet gasp leaves your mouth as you look down at the hot tub below. 

Assuming that it’s Haechan’s stationary shadow at the corner of the house, you can understand why he might be frozen right there. 

Shotaro and his girlfriend are having sex in the hot tub. She’s riding him, his hands all over her body as she moves on top of him. You’re sure if the window was open even a little bit you might be able to hear them. 

Is Haechan down there just watching them? Like a pervert?

That’s gross….

… But you also kind of like it. 

Your mind gets absorbed into a fantasy, imagining him standing there touching himself while he watches his friend fuck the girl Haechan wishes he was fucking. Haechan the voyeur, the pervert, masturbating while watching two of his friends fuck. 

Thinking of that just sends you farther down the path, and you step away from the window, sliding into the bed without delay. 

The sheets definitely smell like Haechan. You slide into the spot where the sheets look most rumpled, rest your head on the pillow that looks slept upon. You bury your nose in the fabric and breathe in, wrapped entirely in that scent that reminds you so much of Haechan. 

Your mind still swirls with the fantasy of him down there touching himself, the images in your mind turn to just Haechan stroking his cock, maybe a scenario where he’d found you alone in the hot tub, touching yourself and he stands beside the tub, jerking off while you make yourself cum on your fingers.

You can’t help yourself when you slide your fingers down your body, dipping them inside your damp panties to touch yourself while you breathe in Haechan, while you let the scent intoxicate you and build your fantasy, although your mind can’t settle on just one. A fantasy where you’re tangled with him right here in these sheets, one where he comes up to go to bed and finds you with your fingers buried in your cunt and his name a chant on your lips, another where you joined him out at the fire to blow him while the crackling heat of the fire warms your back, and one where you’d dragged him into one of those unused tents out there and let him ride your ass until you can’t fucking move tomorrow. 

You cum on your fingers, making your panties just that much wetter as you drip around your fingers and rut your hips against the bed. Your moan of Haechan’s name is muffled against the pillow as you bite down on it and wish that it was his shoulder you were biting. 

Your body goes so relaxed, boneless after your orgasm. You don’t even pull your fingers away, leaving your hand inside your panties as you breathe and wait for your pounding heart to return to normal. The house is quiet around you, though you swear you hear a moan from outside the window. 

You don’t know what drives you to do it, what filthy part of you thinks it’s okay, but once you regain some mobility in your limbs, you slip your hand from your panties. Your fingers are still wet and slick, and you lift them to wipe them on the pillow case, mingling your scent right there with Haechan’s. You breathe it in, and your heart thrills at the combination, the perfect perfume. 

Just as you’re about to roll over, to slide onto the other side of the bed to leave Haechan’s already slept-in side for him again, the door of the room opens. 

You jump slightly. 

“Sorry, it’s just me.” Haechan apologizes. 

You sink back into the sheets on his side of the bed. He closes the door behind him, and you hear his shuffling footsteps cross the floor. You hear the soft whisper of his sweatshirt being pulled over his head,  a similar sound when a moment later he drops his swim trunks. He steps into the en-suite for a few moments, and when he emerges you can just see the shadowy shape of him moving over to his bag on the desk. He pulls out some sweatpants, slips them on and then crosses back to the other side of the bed. 

“You smell like lake water, bonfire smoke, and chlorine,” you mumble as he slides into the bed. Not that it’s a bad thing that he smells like that because even under it all, you can still catch that definite Haechan-scent. You still wish you could pull yourself closer and bury your nose against him, breathing it all in. 

“I’ll shower in the morning,” Haechan says, his words already half-muffled. “You’re on my side of the bed, by the way.”

He shuffles a little closer, and although this bed is big, you’re still very aware of him when his foot bumps against yours. 

“You’re the one that invited me. Guess you should’ve been more specific about where you wanted me.” You flip over onto your side to face him. His eyes gleam slightly in the dim light still coming in from the lights over the hot tub. 

“Next time I’ll make it clear where I want you,” Haechan says. 

You don’t know what exactly he means by that, but you’ll take it as a promise that there will be a next time for you to end up in his bed. 

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” 

Xiaojun asks it so casually that you almost don’t even hear the question. 

Since the camping trip just two weeks ago, you’ve given in to his desires, slipped back into your old ways. Reentering into your friends-with-benefits sort of situation with him. 

You’re currently in the process of extracting yourself from his bed, dressing yourself as you sit perched on the edge of the bed. You pause what you’re doing to look back over your shoulder at him. 

Xiaojun is reclined among the messy sheets, carefree with his sex hair and his bare chest dotted with hickeys and marks left behind by your fingernails. He’s watching you warily. 

“A date?” You ask. He nods. “Where’s this coming from?”

He shrugs. “I just thought maybe it might be nice to hang out just the two of us without it only meaning sex. Plus there’s that Halloween party tomorrow night. Most of our friends are gonna be there. There’s booze, movies, music. It should be fun.” Seeing the apprehensive look on your face, Xiaojun says, “It doesn’t have to be like a date-date. I just want to have someone there to have fun with, y’know? A date for the party.”

You like Xiaojun. He’s hot, handsome, fun. He’s nice too and he treats his dog like his firstborn child which is kinda endearing, but you’re not really into him like in a romantic sort of way. You’re too hung up on Haechan to allow yourself to truly develop feelings for anyone else. And truthfully, that night during the camping trip when you’d shared Haechan’s bed is part of the reason you’d so eagerly thrown yourself back into Xiaojun’s arms. 

You’d woken late the next morning on the trip still in bed with Haechan. Your nose was buried against that spot on the pillow that smelled like you and like him, and you’d maybe let yourself watch him sleep for a few more minutes until you decided that it was creepy to watch him. So you’d left, fleeing down to the kitchen.

Haechan hadn’t even acknowledged you sharing his bed. He’d only spoken a few words to you for the rest of that day, and then that night you hadn’t dared return to that bed, too worried that you would throw yourself at Haechan and be faced with outright rejection or maybe he would accept your horny advances but that’s all it would be. Just sex, like this with Xiaojun. And you might end up heartbroken. 

So you’d turned to Xiaojun. 

Maybe he’s exactly the distraction you need. 

“Do we have to wear costumes?” You weren’t planning to do anything like that this year, and with Halloween only a day away, your choices are probably pretty slim. 

“Please?” He wheedles, giving you a sweet smile. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

The following night, you’re walking arm-in-arm with Xiaojun across the long lawn in front of one of the nicer buildings on campus. The air is rather nippy, so you wish you’d dressed warmer considering this party is outdoors, but at least there are the large bonfires to put off a bit of heat. And Xiaojun is kind and considerate and keeps you close to his side with a jacket draped over your shoulders. 

The jacket kinda ruins your costume but you don’t really care. You came dressed in contrast to Xiaojun’s devilish costume, so you’re an angel tonight, wearing just a short white dress, white shoes, a hastily made halo, and enough sparkly highlighter on your face and collarbones that you seem to glow when any amount of light touches your skin. 

You wander around with Xiaojun for a while, just chatting and strolling around the bonfires, stopping to grab drinks, even briefly dancing together where there’s a DJ. Eventually you find a small cluster of your friends – Renjun, Jisung, YangYang – but you visit with them only briefly before moving on. 

You want some excitement tonight, and you know that Xiaojun had invited you on this not-date with a promise of seeing each other in a non-sexual way. But you want sex. That’s your favorite thing to do with Xiaojun.

So once you’ve led him away from your friends, you pull him around the side of the building that presides over this long lawn where the party is being held. Everyone is too focused on the party being held in front of the building to notice the couple sneaking around the side, so you pull Xiaojun against you as you lean back against the wall, dragging his mouth down against yours for a kiss.

He falls into that easily enough, succumbing to your kiss instantly. But you don’t want just a kiss. You want more.

Xiaojun moans softly when you curl your fingers around his wrist, when you pull his hand to your thigh. You lift the short skirt of your angelic white dress, and you guide his hand higher until his fingers find the soft warmth of your panties. 

“Been thinking about your fingers, Xiaojun.” You press the words against his lips between kisses, begging a little when you say, “Need to feel your fingers inside me. Now.”

“Now?” He repeats, pulling his mouth away. “Here?”

You hum, nodding your head, using your fingers against his to massage them against your clit. Xiaojun just watches you, a curious look on his face when he asks, “Won’t we get in trouble if anyone catches us?

“No, Xiaojun, it’s kinda hot, right?” You tug him forward by the lapels of his jacket. “Please?”

“But what if someone sees?” He looks around, peeking right around the corner to the steps up into the building not so far away at all. Currently there are a few people clustered around the base of the stairs, chatting over their drinks, their laughter loud enough to mask any sounds you might make. They’re so close by, and that thrills you.

You want to know what it feels like to have sex somewhere that you might be caught, somewhere that someone might be able to watch. 

Xiaojun still looks hesitant.

“Look,” you sigh, patting his shoulder lightly. “We don’t have to if you really don’t want to. I just thought it might be something fun and different.”

The way Xiaojun looks at you then tells you a lot without him even having to say any words aloud. He thought tonight might be fun and different too, different than you just wanting to fuck him.

But you’re feeling the urge to do something slightly dangerous tonight, and maybe it’s because ever since that night at the cabin about two weeks ago, all you’ve been thinking about has been the way that Haechan stood down there on the deck, peeking around the corner at Shotaro and his girlfriend. And you’ve wanted someone to watch you. Of course, a part of you kinda wishes it would be Haechan, but when you’ve actually thought about it over the recent days, you’ve realized you really like the idea of anyone watching you.

Maybe you’re an exhibitionist. It’s a new thing that has never occurred to you before, but lately it’s all you’ve been thinking about.

“I can’t.” Xiaojun shakes his head and takes a step back. “I have some… different things that I’m into, but I just can’t get into this. Public stuff is not a thing for me.”

That’s your cue to ask him what is a thing for him? What sorts of different kinks is Xiaojun into?

But you don’t ask because you realize in that moment that you don’t care. This is why you’d ended your friends with benefits relationship the first time around. The sex was generally good and fun, but there were some differences in what you wanted to try out even that first time around. You’d forgotten that.

“It’s fine, Xiaojun. You can leave.” Your words are maybe a little too cold and dismissive, but Xiaojun doesn’t react in any way other than simply walking away, leaving you there around the dark corner of the building. 

You sigh and press your shoulders back against the stone. It’s still slightly warm from the sunlight earlier, though the night air is still sharp against your exposed skin. You don’t care that you’re alone. Maybe you’ll just stand right here and get yourself off. Your clit is swollen, pussy throbbing with need, so all it takes is just that thought that you could get yourself off right here, and your hand is already drifting in that direction.

Your skirt is hiked up around your hips now, and your fingers visibly disappear down the front of your panties. You don’t care what you look like right now with your head tipped back against the wall, the motion of your arm and fingers making it very obvious what you’re doing if anyone were to look this way. You’re playing with your clit, dipping your fingers back to your slit to gather up your wetness, slicking your fingers between the folds and just teasing yourself.

The thin strap of your dress slips down over the curve of your right shoulder. You rock your hips forward against the slide of your fingers.

You’ve never done anything like this before. The closest you’ve gotten was masturbating at your apartment when your bed was in front of the window, but your window didn’t face any neighbors, just a solid, windowless wall of the building next door. Tonight you’re horny and feeling risky and adventurous. Thus, the semi-public masturbation.

Just around the corner, you can hear people talking and laughing. 

You lift your free hand to your chest, palming the curve of your breast, and with the other hand, you finally give your pussy what she really wants. If you can’t have Xiaojun’s fingers, you’ll certainly settle for your own.

There’s not a free hand left to cover your mouth to hide your gasps and small whimpers of pleasure. You bite your lip, but that only works so well as you finger yourself and imagine that it was someone else, or imagine that someone is hiding in those bushes a few feet away watching you, touching himself as he watches you edge yourself closer and closer to orgasm.

That thought makes your pussy pulse hungrily, your breath coming out sharply. You want to pull your dress down, bare your tits so you can touch them properly. You wish Xiaojun hadn’t left you because you would get him down on the ground right now so you could ride him, feel the night air on your skin under the not-so-distant glow of the nearest bonfire. So you do squat down right there beside the building, spreading your legs a bit so you can get a better angle with your fingers buried in your pussy. 

“Fuck,” you moan under your breath. Your ankles wobble, and you lose your balance, flopping down onto your ass, your shoulders come to rest against the wall, but you don’t stop what you’re doing. 

You don’t stop until you feel your orgasm mounting, you don’t stop until it is coursing through you, your head tipped back against the wall, heart pounding, pleasure curling your toes and flushing your skin with sweet heat to combat the night’s chill. 

You gasp then sigh, catching your breath as you slide your fingers out of your panties. You wipe your hand on the grass, drag your dress back down to cover you, and you take a moment to just come back to yourself. You can feel the heat settling under your skin, your panties sticking wet against your pussy lips. Exhilaration at having just done that makes it all the more enjoyable. 

You liked that a lot. 

Getting off in public. 

A branch cracks underfoot nearby, and you look up. 

A police officer is walking across the lawn from the closest bonfire, making for you. He freezes when you get to your feet, then he takes a few wary steps closer. 

When he’s close enough, you realize who the officer is. 

“Haechan?”

He pulls a cocky grin onto his face. “Yes, angel?”

You flutter your hands over your dress, making sure it’s all properly pulled back into place. 

Haechan cocks his head a little to the side. “What’re you doing way over here? By yourself?”

You shake your head. “Nothing. Just needed a moment to breathe.”

“Are you alright?” The look of amusement on his face fades, replaced with one of concern. 

“I’m fine. I promise.” Truly, you’re more than fine after an orgasm like that. “Xiaojun asked me to come with him tonight and I think he’s thinking of this more as a date than just us casually hanging out. I needed a little space from him.”

Haechan watches you, his gaze running over your face and your posture, and you feel like he’s picking you apart, but you’re not exactly sure what it is that he’s seeing. After a moment he just looks away, back over his shoulder to scan the lawn. When his gaze returns to you, he’s back to wearing his cocky expression, “Well, I’m looking for a naughty schoolgirl. Have you seen one come by here?” 

Not recently, but you saw one earlier tonight. You vaguely recognized her as a friend of Mark’s. She’d come around the group a few times, but she wasn’t a regular. 

“Why are you looking for her?” You ask. 

Haechan just grins. “Oh, you know how naughty schoolgirls are. I’m just doing my job as a truancy officer, looking for her to punish her.”

You roll your eyes and walk around him, making it only a few steps back towards the light of the front of the building when Haechan’s hand closes around your wrist. 

“What were you doing over there, little angel? Your ass is covered in dirt.” He laughs, and you halfway twist around to look down. Sure enough, the butt of your white dress has dirt on it, but you can’t really reach it very well. Haechan offers, “Do you want some help?”

The moment that his hand touches your ass, patting to remove the dirt which puffs away in small clouds, you feel your core reignite with hunger. Haechan’s hand comes down again, a light pat that you wish was a bit harder, though at the same time, you’re grateful it’s not any harder or else you would probably moan aloud. As it is, your face feels very warm when Haechan finally takes a step around you.

“There,” he says proudly, “All better. But your halo is a little crooked too.”

He reaches up, readjusting your halo. You take the moment to look at him, to stare at his handsome face, so light with amusement right now. And then he lays a hand on top of your head, right beneath the halo, and his gaze lowers to yours. 

“You make a good angel. Perfect and innocent as you are.” Haechan smiles, a real soft smile. 

“I’m not innocent,” you immediately shoot back. 

He shrugs a little. His fingers pet your hair a bit before he removes his hand. “Well you’re certainly no naughty devil. I’ve never heard any wild stories about you, which makes you an innocent angel in my eyes.”

You frown. 

Haechan just smiles, then says, “Well, I have a naughty schoolgirl to look for, if you’ll excuse me.” He walks away without another look back, and you decide that you’re done for the night. You’re done with this party. You’re probably done with Xiaojun, honestly. And you definitely don’t want to hang around and find out if Haechan is going to find his naughty schoolgirl.

You take the winter break to give yourself the opportunity to put some distance between you and Xiaojun, and some distance between you and your useless crush on Haechan. Most of your friends leave campus for the break, but you hang around to work and get a little bit of a head start on the new semester. It’s your final semester, so in a few months you and most of your friends will be graduating. 

You also take the winter break to explore that side of you that you’d started to see during October. The exhibitionist side. 

You start small at first. 

Going out with no panties, no bra just for the impropriety of it. 

You test the waters by touching yourself while you drive back to your apartment from the grocery one day. You build yourself up very, very slowly. Scared of getting caught, but also thrilled with the idea of someone seeing what you’re doing and maybe them getting turned on too. 

As soon as the semester resumes, you begin taking your exhibitionist thrills onto campus itself. No panties and a short skirt while you’re sitting in class or in the library, legs spread just enough that the students or even a professor could see. You rub one out in the restroom between classes a few times, and you’re almost certain that you were found out at least a couple times by others using the restroom when a moan or other such sound escapes you.

As your last semester begins to tick by, you finally begin taking more risks. Such as a picnic in the park with a guy you’d met online who seemed interested in hooking up and doing it in public. He’d fingered you while he fed you cut up fruits with the other hand, which was really more of an excuse to let you suck on his fingers to keep quiet. Just a one-off because, although you liked the experience, there was something lacking with the guy. 

So you’d tried again with another – a guy that actually did see up your skirt while you were studying late one night at the library, and as soon as you noticed him keep sneaking glances, you decided to tease him. One hand slid down to tease yourself, and when he caught you watching him watching you, you’d silently invited him to join you for a quick fuck in the nearest restroom. Again, the experience was fun, but there was something missing about him.

And then one night you’re over at the rented house of several of your friends. It’s midterms, so everyone’s trying to study together for various classes, or at least trying to drink away the stress. Jeno and Haechan are studying for their Econ exam in the kitchen, taking up the majority of the space although there’s still just enough room for YangYang and Renjun to make a mess in trying to be chefs and bartenders for the rest of you. 

You know that YangYang has already given up on studying for any of his midterms. Renjun already knows that he’s well-prepared. They’re just trying to make sure everyone else is having a good time. Mark, Shotaro, Jaemin, and a few of the girls are in the living room attempting to study with you, but you’re on the verge of giving up for the night. You have a bit of a buzz going on from the boozy drinks that YangYang keeps passing around, and you have a full belly from the snacks Renjun keeps making.

“Should we watch a movie instead or something?” Renjun suggests when Jaemin also complains about being bored with studying.

“Maybe we should all just go to bed.” Jaemin frowns a little as he says it, casting a look first towards his bedroom down the hallway, and then looking towards the kitchen where Haechan and Jeno have just loudly begun bickering over some Econ lesson. 

Shotaro’s girlfriend leans her head on his shoulder. “I agree. I’m tired, and I have a project due early in the morning tomorrow.”

“I told you not to take such an early morning class,” Shotaro teases, slipping his arm tight around her shoulders. He puts on a cutesy tone as he asks her, “Do you want to leave, baby? Should we go?” 

Gross, you think. And then you almost laugh.

You’re grossed out by their cutesy, romantic display of affection in public, and yet you’re the one with actual exhibitionist tendencies. 

Jaemin disappears to bed. Shotaro and his girlfriend leave. Everyone else in the room gives up on studying to instead settle in and watch a movie. You look towards the kitchen again as you settle in comfortably between Renjun and YangYang on the sofa, lights off, movie on. Jeno and Haechan aren’t paying any attention to the rest of you; they’re still in the other room diligently studying, and you can’t help watching Haechan.

He’s clearly frustrated. The glasses he's wearing keep sliding down his nose, his hair is ruffled from him running his fingers through it. He’s pushed the sleeves of his shirt up to the elbow. He’s wearing loose basketball shorts, and he has one foot resting on his chair with his knee bent up which has caused the leg of the shorts to bunch up, revealing so many inches of beautiful bare thigh. 

You’ve been trying so hard to get over this crush you have on him, but right now you’re epically failing. All you can imagine is sitting on the floor beneath that table, licking and biting at his thighs, pulling his dick out of the shorts to suck him off while he continues studying. Give him a reward for behaving so studiously. 

“Hey.”

A finger pokes your cheek.

You return to reality, and the fantasy of having Haechan’s cock in your mouth fades away. Renjun smiles at you. 

“You’re not even watching the movie right now. Is Haechan really that much more interesting?” His voice is just a whisper, but it’s still loud enough that you feel a minor surge of panic. You glance around making sure that none of your other friends have heard, that Haechan couldn’t have possibly heard even though he’s all the way over there in the kitchen. Renjun laughs again, leaning closer until his lips are right against your ear. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” 

“What secret?” You play dumb, and Renjun just rolls his eyes. “Really, Renjun. What secret? I was just staring because, well, if I’m being honest –” Which, for the record, you’re not being honest. “ — their talking is distracting me.” 

Renjun cocks an eyebrow and looks back over towards the kitchen where Jeno and Haechan are sitting in silence, poring over textbooks and notebooks and Jeno’s iPad screen. The only sound coming from them is the scratching of pens on paper. 

You sigh, momentarily letting your gaze wander to Haechan’s thighs as he now brings his other leg up. The shorts on that side also slide down so both of his bare golden thighs are on clear display. Maybe you let out another day-dreamy sigh.

Renjun looks back over at you, a quick up and down. He looks like he doesn’t entirely buy your story. He snorts, “Why don’t you just admit it?”

You know exactly what he’s referring to, but you refuse to admit to him that you have a crush or whatever on Haechan. Not happening. 

“I’d have to be blind to miss that horny gleam in your eye,” Renjun whispers. 

The call-out feels like a wallop to your chest. You actually flinch, struggling to find the words until you eventually mumble, “It’s just been a while, okay? I’m… lonely, Renjun.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” Renjun promises.

On your other side, YangYang loudly laughs at something that happens on the screen, and you realize there’s no way that he’s paying even the slightest attention to the conversation you and Renjun are having. There’s no way that he notices as you shift yourself a little bit closer to Renjun, and Renjun doesn’t even comment on the way that you reduced the inches of space between you to now just a few centimeters. He turns his attention back to the movie without another word about you staring at Haechan or you confessing to him that you’re lonely. 

You try to watch the movie too. You try to forget Haechan with his beautiful thighs sitting right over there in the kitchen, try to forget the way that in the brief fantasy you’d allowed yourself, you’d somehow made yourself very horny. You try so hard to suppress that horniness, and it works for a little while as you get sucked into the movie.

But then a sex scene comes on. 

The atmosphere in the room changes slightly. 

You shift a little – bunching your hands up in the blanket that covers your lap, you move your legs, shift your weight trying to get a little more comfortable.

Renjun’s hand lands on your thigh. “Settle down,” he murmurs out of the corner of his mouth. 

You look over at him. The way he’s not even looking at you, but still watching the scene playing out on the screen. Then your gaze slides down his arm to the place where his hand disappears beneath your blanket, to the lump beneath the blanket that is his hand on your thigh. Renjun seems to notice your gaze suddenly, and he begins to remove his hand.

His head snaps around towards you the moment that your hand covers his, keeping his palm flat against your thigh. You make eye contact, and his lips part slightly. His eyes dip down to your lap before sweeping around the room to make sure that no one is looking, and then his eyes settle on your face. 

You nod, squeeze his hand.

YangYang sits just half a foot away from you on your left side. Blissfully unaware as Renjun’s hand begins inching up your thigh, as his fingers trace along the center seam of the athletic shorts you’d worn over here tonight. On the small loveseat perpendicular to your sofa, Mark and one of the other girls sit entirely oblivious even when Renjun lets out a tiny gasp of surprise when his fingers dip inside your shorts and find that you’d foregone panties tonight. The other two girls are stretched out on their bellies on the floor, and they don’t have any clue that you spread your legs a little wider, casually draping one over Renjun’s leg to open yourself up for him to touch you in the presence of all of your gathered friends.

You can’t believe Renjun is doing this. Yeah, you’ve heard a couple stories about him, but nothing like this. Just a few tales about him, but none of the handful of stories had mentioned him having any interest in anything like this.

His eyes shine in the light coming from the screen when you reach a hand of reciprocation over into his lap. Unlike you, Renjun is wearing underwear, but that doesn’t get in your way too much. Soon you have him in your hand, and he’s circling his fingers at your clit. 

You both touch each other, taking it slow and building up that tension and heat. You want to keep it unnoticeable, but also you feel a zing of excitement when you think about YangYang beside you or your friends on the floor or the other sofa. Of course, it’s when you think about Haechan looking over from the kitchen that your body buzzes a little more extremely. You imagine him looking this way and seeing the way that you’re leaning your head on Renjun’s shoulder now, staring at the movie playing on the screen without really seeing it; him noticing Renjun’s hand disappearing beneath your blanket, noticing your leg draped over Renjun’s, noticing the way that you’re both moving your arms slightly, both a little flushed in the face, lips parted and eyes glazed.

It’s that thought of Haechan looking over, seeing everything and knowing what you’re doing, him getting hard and watching because he’s a pervert like that. That is what makes you cum around Renjun’s fingers. Your thighs snap shut around his hand, and it’s only by nearly biting through your lip and through sheer will that you keep from moaning.

Renjun keeps his fingers moving, stroking that soft spot inside you that makes your belly tingle even more. You can feel the way that your pussy is dripping around his fingers, and as soon as your thighs relax around his hand, Renjun slides his hand out of your pants, out from beneath the blanket.

His fingers shine with your wetness, and when he pulls his fingers apart, you can see your stickiness there. And then Renjun brings his fingers up to his lips. He makes direct eye contact with you as he licks his fingers, then as he stuffs them into his mouth to clean them up. You’ve halfway forgotten that you’re meant to be jerking him off as well, but his free hand drops down to cover yours on his cock, getting your hand moving again while he sucks the taste of you from his fingers.

And just like that, Renjun cums too. You can only just barely hear the sound of a slight groan escaping from around his fingers. His cum pulses sticky and warm over your hand, dripping down your fingers, slicking your palm as you smear it around his leaking tip. 

Your hand is still around his cock when you lift your head from Renjun’s shoulder to touch your lips to his ear so you can whisper, “Next time, I want to ride you. Okay? Right here, like this.”

Renjun visibly swallows, his throat bobbing. “I don’t know about that.”

He reaches down, pulling your hand away from his cock, out from beneath the blanket. He doesn’t look at you, and it’s not like you really have feelings for Renjun or that you’re super attracted to him, but his rejection still stings a bit. He quickly stuffs his cock back into his pants, stands up, and heads upstairs. 

Renjun doesn’t come back.

You wipe your hand clean on the back of the little throw pillow tucked on your end of the sofa. You lay down over Renjun’s abandoned spot, stretch your feet out into YangYang’s lap, which makes him frown over at you slightly. He doesn’t move your feet though, so you lay your head on the throw pillow that you just wiped Renjun’s cum on the back of, and you watch the movie.

The two girls on the floor say that they’ve got to leave when that movie ends. Mark puts on the sequel to the movie you’d just watched. Still Renjun doesn’t return. Still Haechan and Jeno study in the kitchen, conversing in low voices. Halfway through that movie, the girl sitting with Mark falls asleep, and when he carefully lifts her into his arms to carry her upstairs to his bedroom, you remember that they started officially dating recently. 

YangYang moves over to the empty loveseat now that it’s empty, giving you the entire sofa to stretch out on. You fall asleep before this movie even ends, replaying the fun with Renjun, but wishing too that someday you’ll be able to sit on the sofa surrounded by friends with someone’s cock buried inside you, all of your friends none the wiser. 

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a/n: she's a little bit of an experimenting exhibitionist lol, just as much a pervert as Haechan honestly, though I don't think she realizes it yet. As I said a while back when I was posting about my writing process with this series, this is definitely a slowburn that gets there eventually, like obviously if she's trying to start something with xiaojun and then with renjun it might take a minute for that burn to really get going between her and haechan, but hang in there for the ride! I hope you enjoy it!

[fool-inthe-rain]

All the Right Reasons

Sirius Black x Potter!Reader

wc: 1500~

Content: Fluff!!!! Angst if you squint. Use of she/her pronouns, use of Y/N. Let me know if I missed anything. 

Request: I’m a hoe for Sirius Black and was wondering if you could write a Sirius Black x Potter!reader secret relationship. Maybe some sneaking around and getting found out and James being mad or something but with a happy ending. 

Anon I'm so sorry this took much longer than I expected it to. Thank you so much for the request and I hope you enjoy reading!

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To say they were in love, well, that would be an understatement. The pair were totally and completely infatuated with each other. They did a remarkable job of hiding their intimacy, however. The only other person who knew about the relationship between Sirius Black and Y/n Potter was, of course, Remus Lupin. It’s not like they wanted him to know, but when he walked in on them making out on Sirius’s bed, it was pretty difficult from there on out to hide what was going on from him. 

Remus was, unsurprisingly, incredibly supportive of them. Sure, he was skeptical at first. Who wouldn’t be? Sirius Black, best friend of James Potter, and dating his twin sister? Remus made it a point to set boundaries, even though he knew, he didn’t want to hear about it or see anything too relationship-y from either of them. The less he knew the better. The last thing he wanted was to know every detail of their relationship, and have James find out he knew. Remus knew Sirius and y/n better than either would admit, that being said, even though they had been diligent so far, he knew how incredibly unstealthy the two were. James was bound to find out sooner rather than later. 

Summer was hard. What with Sirius living with the Potters and all. This was his third summer with them, and his last, as they were going into 7th year and would–hopefully–be graduating. Sirius spent his nights waiting for James to fall asleep so he could sneak into y/n’s room. He was exceedingly grateful that James was such a heavy sleeper. 

Sirius was already laying out a game plan in his mind for how he and y/n would get ample alone time during the three-month break. He figured it wouldn’t be much different than last summer, but he still wanted to be prepared for what he liked to call ‘unprecedented changes to the mission’ the mission being their relationship. To his credit, Hogwarts was much larger and much easier to sneak around in, so y/n let him have his silly code phrases as long as it meant they would still be able to get away from James when needed. 

They had gotten home late, as the ride from Kings Cross to the Potter’s home was excruciatingly long and boring. Euphemia and Fleamont let them know in the car that come morning, they would be heading out for a small family engagement on the coast. James and y/n were not expected to attend as it was extended family they really had no relationship with. As soon as Sirius heard the house would be free of adults for a few days the gears started turning in his head. When they had finally gotten home, decisions were silently made between Sirius and y/n to just sleep for the night, no sneaking around. They were too drowsy to be careful. 

Sirius and James parted ways from y/n and made their way to their shared bedroom only a few doors down from hers. 

“Thinking of going out tomorrow with a few old friends from the neighborhood. You game?” James asked Sirius, turning his head to look at his friend.

Sirius smirked from where he was standing, facing away from James. 

“Nah mate, you have fun. I think I’m just gonna hang out here, maybe see about that motorcycle I had been telling you about.” He was trying to hide the smile from his voice. This was almost too perfect. Effie and Fleamont would be out, James would be out, and then there were two. 

“Alright, well if you change your mind…” James’s sentence trailed off into a yawn. “Godric, I’m bloody tired.”

“Me too.” Was all Sirius could get out before he caught James’s yawn. 

James turned the light off and within seconds the pair was asleep. The next morning, as per usual, y/n was up early, in time to see her parents off. James woke up around mid-morning and when the clock hit 12:30, Sirius was still sound asleep. 

“I’m heading out for the day. I’ll be home around dinner.” James yelled as he left the shared bedroom, slinging a backpack over his shoulder.

“Mhm, whatever.” Sirius grumbled from under his sheets, sticking one limp hand out to wave away his best friend. 

James made his way out the door, offering a quick goodbye to his sister while tousling her hair. When she was sure he had left, she silently made her way upstairs, creaking open the door to Sirius’s bedroom. 

“I thought you left?” Sirius once again grumbled in annoyance, if there was one thing he hated more than his family, it was being woken up. 

“Oh? And where exactly was I supposed to be going?” y/n snickered teasingly.

Sirius turned around in the bed, enough so he was facing the door. A large smile was plastered on his face as he held the sheets up signaling for her to join him. Of course, she did, when Sirius Black wants you in his bed, you go. 

He draped an arm around her waist, running his hand up and down her back as they two just admired each other, and basked in the silence of the house. 

“This is nice.” She squeaked out, it didn’t matter that they had been together for almost a year she still got nervous around him.

“It’s exceptional. How lucky we are. First day home and we have it all to ourselves.” Sirius punctuated his sentence with a long kiss to her lips. 

The two were so wrapped up in quiet conversation, and each other's eyes that neither had heard the front door open. They certainly didn’t hear footsteps coming up the stairs, but they did hear the bedroom door opening and the loud gasp that followed. 

“What the hell are you two doing? Get off my sister!” James was wide-eyed as he stood in the doorway.

The two sprung out of bed, y/n’s chest was heaving from the adrenaline his yelling had caused. Sirius stood slightly behind her.

“I can explain!” Sirius quickly offered.

“Oh, I’d love to hear this! What you bed my sister and then leave her out to dry like every other girl?” James was fuming. “Give me one reason not to punch you right now.” 

“I love her.” Sirius shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

Y/n snapped her head back to look at him, her eyes wide in shock. They hadn’t said that before. Sure she thought about it, but to hear him say it made her heart swell.

“Okay, can I just say you two with the wide eyes, you look creepily alike so can you please stop with that look?” Sirius deadpanned as if he had just not made an earth-shattering confession. 

“You love her?”

“You love me?” 

The twins said in synch and Sirius just nodded. 

“Of course I do,” he was looking at y/n “I’ve loved you since the day I met you.” His eyes were full of honey and adoration. 

“I love you too-” Before she could get in another word James cut her off.

“Okay, wait, lemme get this straight. You guys are dating?”

The couple nodded.

“Merlin’s beard,” James ran his hands down his face a few times, trying to grasp the situation at hand, “How long?” 

“Almost a year.” y/n squeaked out, afraid that he would get angry again for keeping it from him for so long.

“Okay, okay.” James sat on his bed.

“And you,” He pointed at Sirius, “Love her?” He pointed at his twin sister. 

“Yeah mate, I really do,” Sirius said, nervously playing with the hem of his shirt.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” James asked, a twinge of hurt lacing his words.

“Mate, one of the first things you ever told Moony and I was that y/n was off limits. I thought you were gonna rip my head off!” 

“Well I mean yeah if you were gonna use her for a quick fuck then I would be pissed, but you love each other,” he stood up, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, “who am I to deny love!” he cried out with a dramatic flair, drawing them both into an equally as dramatic hug. 

“Why are you even home? I thought you were going out?” Y/n questioned when he let go of them.

“Yeah I forgot something, but now I can’t remember what it was.” 

James took in the sight before him one more time before picking his backpack back up.

“Oh, young love! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He left the room and the couple could hear his loud laughter as he exited through the front door once again. 

“Well, he took that better than I expected.” Sirius smiled. “Now shall we pick up where we left off?” He got back into the bed, lifting up the sheets the same as he did before. 

Getting in the bed she couldn’t hold back her happiness any longer.

“You love me! Sirius Black is capable of love!” She sniggered poking at his sides. 

“Oh come off it!” He responded with a smirk of his own.

[eunoia-writes]

The black dog • ChrisMD

Summary - Chris forgot to turn his location off after the breakup

Chris and y/n had broken up. The separation hit her like a freight train, leaving her devastated and adrift. Every corner of their shared apartment echoed with memories of him, each one a knife twisting deeper into her heart. She wandered the rooms aimlessly, picking up objects imbued with shared moments—his favorite mug, the book he'd been reading, the photo of them on the beach last summer.

Days turned into weeks, and the pain didn't lessen. Instead, it became a dull ache that gnawed at her insides. Y/n tried to distract herself with work, friends, and hobbies, but nothing could fill the void Chris had left behind. She hadn't spoken to him since the breakup; the silence between them was unbearable.

One evening, y/n was lying on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, and her heart sank. It was a Life360 notification. Chris was at The Black Dog, the bar where they had spent countless evenings together, laughing, sharing secrets, and falling in love. The notification felt like a cruel joke, a reminder of what she had lost.

She convinced herself that he must be on a date, and the thought made her feel sick to her stomach. The image of him with someone else, smiling and happy, was more than she could bear.

Unable to handle the weight of her emotions, she called her best friend George and arranged to meet him for drinks. George had always been her rock, the one person she could rely on when everything else fell apart. When she arrived at the bar, George was already there, waiting for her with a concerned look on his face.

"Y/n, are you okay?" he asked as she sat down next to him.

"No," she admitted, her voice trembling. "I just need to forget, even if it's just for a little while."

They started drinking, and y/n was relentless. Drink after drink, she tried to drown her sorrows, her mind replaying the happy moments she had lost. George tried to keep up with her, but it was clear he was worried. He watched as she spiraled deeper into her grief, powerless to stop her.

As the night wore on and the alcohol took hold, y/n resolve crumbled. She fumbled for her phone and, with shaking hands, dialed Chris's number while George was in the bathroom. He answered on the third ring, his voice a mixture of surprise and concern.

"I just don't understand how you don't miss me," she slurred, launching into a rambling monologue. "You said I needed a brave man, and then you played that part until I believed it. It kills me. How do you not miss me? Do you hate me? Was it all some esoteric joke? I feel like you were making fun of me.” She rambled

“Y/n” he said trying to stop her rambling clearly worried

“Now I want to sell my flat, set fire to all my clothes, because the smell of you won’t go."

Her words poured out, raw and unfiltered, and by the end of the call, she was in tears. She hung up, the phone slipping from her grasp as she buried her face in her hands.

George gently took the phone from her and led her out of the bar, hailing a cab to take her home. "Come on, y/n. Let's get you home," he said softly.

Several hours later, there was a frantic knocking at her door. Y/n, still groggy and disoriented from the alcohol, stumbled to open it. She blinked in surprise, her vision blurred by tears. Chris stood there, looking disheveled and desperate.

"Chris?" she mumbled, barely able to believe her eyes.

"I went to The Black Dog tonight," he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "I hoped you'd be there. I wanted to see you."

Y/n stared at him, her mind struggling to process his words. "Why?" she managed to ask.

"Ending things with you was the biggest regret of my life," Chris said, his voice breaking. "I miss you every single day. I miss your laugh, your smile, the way you made me feel alive. I went to that bar tonight because I couldn't stand not being with you anymore."

Y/n felt a surge of emotions, a mix of relief, anger, and lingering love. She threw her arms around him, holding on as if letting go would mean losing him forever.

They stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, their tears mingling as they clung to the hope of a second chance. The Black Dog had witnessed their beginning, their end, and now, perhaps, their new beginning.

As they sat on the couch, Chris explained, "I thought that breaking up was the right thing to do. I thought I was doing it for both of us, but all I did was make us miserable."

Y/n nodded, her tears subsiding. "I've been lost without you, Chris. Every day has been a struggle."

He took her hand, looking into her eyes with sincerity. "I want to fix this, y/n. I know it won't be easy, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes. You mean everything to me."

Y/n felt a flicker of hope ignite within her. "I want to try too, Chris. I still love you."

They spent the rest of the night talking, sharing their fears and hopes, slowly rebuilding the trust that had been shattered. As the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, they knew they had a long road ahead, but they were willing to walk it together. The Black Dog, once a symbol of their heartbreak, had become a beacon of their reconciliation.

In the weeks that followed, Chris and y/n worked hard to rebuild their relationship. They talked openly about their feelings, attended counseling sessions, and made a conscious effort to support each other. There were setbacks and moments of doubt, but their love proved resilient.

One evening, as they sat together on their balcony, watching the sunset, Chris turned to y/n and said, "I've been thinking about the future. I don't want to just be with you—I want to build a life with you."

Y/n smiled, her heart swelling with happiness. "Let’s start with a cat." She giggled

With renewed commitment and a deeper understanding of each other, Chris and Y/n moved forward, ready to face whatever challenges came their way. Their love, tested by time and adversity, had emerged stronger, a testament to the power of second chances.

[inklessletter]

The Pause

I am going to introduce you to this dynamic, that I would very much like you to consider: The Pause.

Karen taught Nancy about The Pause when she was ten because she suspected Nancy was going through a hard time at school. The Pause was half a little game, half a trust promise. The rules were simple: The Pause would start when they lifted both feet from the ground. When they did that, Karen explained, time stopped for them to take out of their chests whatever was bugging them, and as long as the game was going on, they could say anything (even swearing!) to feel better, and after The Pause finished (when their feet were on the ground again), whatever they said during that time will not ever be approached again. No judgment, no hard felings. Just release.

Nancy had The Pause present during all her life, because speaking her mind wasn't always easy. She would learn soon enough that speaking up wasn't the hard part; getting heard was.

Anyway, she found herself spreading The Pause. She used it with Mike once or twice. During those moments, Nancy recalled, it was when they got along better. Sad thing they never talked about it later.

Mike had taught The Pause to Lucas, who eventually, taught it to Max in an attempt to talk to her when she was at her worst.

Nancy used it with Steve after their first encounter with the demogorgon, and it was, by far, the one who was most affected by The Pause. She had been at Steve's a few times by then. She knew he didn't have anyone to talk to about his feelings, or what he had gone through, so she taught him The Pause.

That was when Steve fell in love with her.

Then she taught The Pause to Jonathan in Murray's place, and that's when they both learned about their true feelings.

Later on, he would use The Pause with Will, who, a few years later, taught it to El.

Steve taught The Pause to several people, though. The first time he used it, it was before the Snow Ball. He wasn't expecting Claudia mentioning his dad, and everything went downhill from that. They sat in the bed before doing his hair, and they talked about shitty dads, and unrequited crushes with the same girl.

That was the second time Steve fell in love using The Pause.

The next summer, in camp, right before confessing to Suzie, Dustin used The Pause, which gave him strength to do so. Suzie found it cute enough to actually give him his first kiss.

When they first started working in Family Video, Steve learned that maybe Nancy's legacy was the best thing he got from her. He sat on the counter a lazy day and told Robin about The Pause when he saw her weirded than normal, and she obliged and told about her identity issues. She also mentioned that the weirdest thing about that is the fact that she was starting to believe that Steve Harrington was his platonic soulmate, and she was afraid to tell him because he might break her heart if he didn't feel the same.

That was the third time.

Steve taught The Pause once more, to Eddie. They sat on his kitchen countertop, and there was a whole space between them, when Eddie told that he couldn't believe that he actually was ready to die, and he didn't know what to do with that now that he didn't. Eddie told him that he was scared that he'd gave up his place in the world, and now the world wouldn't give his spot back. Eddie told him that he was as afraid to leave as he was to stay in Hawkins, because he was starting to believe that he was falling in love with this hot jackass that was making him using a communication system that implied that they were not going to talk about it anymore in the future.

Steve broke The Pause to walk the space between them and kiss him, because those feelings were not meant to be approached just once in theit life. He needed them to be real, so he could say Steve that he loved him for the rest of his life.

That was the fourth, and the last time he fell in love using The Pause.

Funny thing is, The Pause was now a secret dynamic that everyone in the group knew, but Nancy wasn't aware by that, until The Pause came back to her.

And it came from Robin.

Robin taught Nancy The Pause when they run accidentally into each other a random night in a park, in late 1986. Robin knew something was wrong with her, so she took her to the swings and asked her to lift her feet from the ground. Then, Robin explained Nancy The Pause rules, who listened attentively, not fully believing what was happening. She considered to come clean and tell Robin that she knew about The Pause, that her mom taught her when she was a kid, but she left that unsaid. Instead, Nancy talked about how she felt that her relationship with Jonathan was going nowhere, and she was afraid that they were making each other miserable. She also told Robin about that she might have developed feelings towards another person. Towards a girl. Robin told her that she liked girls, too. Nancy told Robin that she was scared about that part of herself. Robin said that she got it, but it wasn't that scary once you surrounded yourself with the right people.

They held hands there.

That was the first time Nancy fell in love using The Pause.

[the-lonelybarricade]

Take My Hand, Wreck My Plans - Chapter 2

Summary: Fresh after her third, and final, breakup with Tamlin, Feyre decides a one night stand is exactly what she needs to get him out of her system. Except, her one night stand with a violet-eyed stranger ends up being far more than she bargained for.

-

Or; the one where Feysand gets knocked up from a one night stand.

Read on AO3 ・Masterlist・Previous Chapter

-

Feyre couldn’t look at her phone. Not without feeling nauseated.

There had been many—countless, Nesta would argue—idiotic, brainless things that Feyre had done in her life. There was the time she’d left her passport locked in a hostel safe and had driven three hours on the motorway before she’d realized. There was the time when she’d snuck one of the bottles of vodka her father used to keep stored in the freezer and decided she’d get away with it by replenishing what was consumed with water, only for their father to discover a frozen bottle the following evening. Or, worst of all, there was the summer she’d given herself bangs.

They were all inconsequential in retrospect, now knowing how each of those little mistakes panned out. But at the time, they had felt world-ending.

And maybe there was a solace to find in how trivial those moments felt in reflection. Like one day in the future, Feyre would look back on herself now and laugh softly, saying, Remember how scared I was? I thought the world was coming down around me, but it was only just a new path forging.

That was a nice idea, except this new path was not solid stone, steady underfoot. Nor was it gravel, rough and uneven, easy to slip and unforgiving beneath a fall. No, this new path was quicksand. There was no standing still; there was no scraping together her bearings. This path decided that she was moving one way or another—either sinking to the bottom, suffocating in her own indecision, or scrambling forward in an attempt to keep her head above the surface.

And maybe there wasn’t a way forward at all. Maybe there was only going down, like she was trapped in a sand dial, feeling the ground shift and fall away, every ticking second measured. It certainly felt like there was glass sealed behind her—she knew there was no going back. There was no undoing the purple eyes and velvet laugh and stupid black dress.

Would she one day laugh about this? Who was to say. She wasn’t laughing now. She was fighting the bile creeping up her throat as she sat on the cool tile of her bathroom floor, glaring at the porcelain bowl because it was better than glaring at her phone. Feyre couldn’t say for certain if it was morning sickness that had triggered her nausea or the text that had woken her up.

Feeling better?

Feyre was running out of excuses. A stomach bug only lasts for so long. It was becoming a matter of time before someone busted down her door and demanded she go to the emergency room.

Yes, she texted back.

The response was immediate. I have the day off. Breakfast at 10?

Sure.

It was an effort to heft herself from the floor. It was more of an effort not to grimace when she saw her reflection in the mirror. She fixed her eyes on the faucet, on her shaking hands cupping the water, scooping it into her face, and then into her mouth to rinse out the bile.

She didn’t look that different, not really. There was no pregnancy bump yet. If anything, she’d lost weight. Nausea could do that, but so could guilt. Six weeks ago, she’d had sex with a stranger, with Rhysand, and now there was a life growing in her stomach.

Google said a baby was roughly the size of a pea at six weeks. If that was true, then the weight of keeping this secret made it the heaviest gods-damned pea in existence.

“Have you told him?” Alis said in greeting as Feyre ambled into the kitchen.

Steam curled from the mug in her hands, carrying the scent of freshly roasted coffee. Feyre resisted the urge to cover her nose.

“No,” she said, evading her roommate in a wide arc.

Alis arched a brow. “Will you tell him?”

The bitter smell was so affronting that Feyre could think of little else. A gag built in her throat, which she did a poor job of hiding by darting for the fridge. It was the empty stomach. She needed to eat something, or she was going to puke again.

Feyre settled for an apple and took a long time chewing before she turned back to Alis. She swallowed. “Eventually.”

“The longer you wait—”

“I know,” Feyre interrupted.

Of course she knew. It was all she’d been thinking about. But how? How did she look him in the eyes and say, I’m pregnant? She couldn’t even do it in the mirror—and she’d tried. There were a thousand versions of the script she was constantly writing and rewriting in her head, all those words swirling until they had become a living creature of mist and shadow. One that loomed over her shoulder at all times of the day. She’d somehow convinced herself it would only become real if she acknowledged it.

Alis said little else. She was the only one who knew, by virtue of being on the other side of the door when Feyre had taken her pregnancy test. Though, Alis wasn’t dense, and it wouldn’t have taken her long to peg the morning nausea, the aversion to certain foods. They didn’t say much about it. Not yet. Alis had only offered her unilateral support and given Feyre time and space to dissect her maelstrom of emotions.

And three days ago, when Feyre decided she was going to keep the baby, Alis had said simply, “Then you need to tell him.”

A firm, unwavering reminder she’d repeated each day since. Feyre clenched her teeth to keep from snapping. She knew that, in her own way, Alis was being kind. Time would only exacerbate the issue. But objectivity did little quell Feyre’s kindling irritation. Words bubbled behind her clenched teeth, building into a pressure that made her want to scream: no-fucking-duh.

She didn’t scream. She politely took her apple and her keys and murmured that she would be back soon. Maybe she could have shut the front door with less force, but at least now she could blame her Archeron temper on her hormones.

Feyre rapped her knuckles over the steering wheel. She was parked outside the cafe, and through the large glass pane at the front, she could spot him sitting inside. His posture seemed relaxed enough, his handsome face angled down towards his phone. A second later, hers pinged from its mount on the dashboard.

I’m here. Are you close?

She met her own eyes in the rearview mirror. Blue, like an overcast sea, their mother had always said, reasoning it was why her eldest and youngest were such forces of nature. There was a swelling storm that Feyre could never escape, because it lived inside her. And now she could feel the tide in her chest retreating from the shore, pulling further and further back, and she knew it would crash if she went inside, that it would swallow them both whole.

Be a big girl, she told herself. Go in there and tell him the truth.

She took a deep inhale. Held it, hoping it could hold back the tide, too.

Then, it was only a matter of unlocking her door. Walking the few steps towards the front entrance. Listening to the pealing bell as she pulled open the door.

“Feyre?”

Blonde hair swam into view. The greeting was so unexpected, so startling, that Feyre released the breath she’d been holding.

Then it all crashed down.

Brows pinched together. “Feyre, are you okay?”

Mor had the sense to keep her voice at a whisper. From the way she glanced over her shoulder towards the man hunched over in the booth, it was clear she had put together who Feyre was here to see.

Tears sprung into Feyre’s vision—not because she was crying, but because she couldn’t breathe. The tide was surging around her, clogging her throat, and she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t—

Mor grabbed Feyre by the shoulders and pushed them out of the cafe.

The early Autumn was as indecisive as Feyre. Yesterday, she’d been sweating through her t-shirt. Today, the air stung her cheeks. Maybe the weather had seen a kindred spirit, a storm that could never quite find stillness, and decided to take pity. The cold calmed her, embraced her, reminded her where she was. Outside. With Mor. Where there was plenty of open space and fresh air. The blockage in her throat loosened. She took a gasping breath, then another.

“You’re okay,” Mor soothed.

“I’m okay,” Feryre repeated. To assure Mor or herself, she wasn’t certain.

Mor took in Feyre’s strained voice, her flushed cheeks, the nails digging into her palms and gestured towards one of the outdoor tables. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Maybe… maybe a trial run could be a good thing.

Her eyes drifted over Mor’s shoulder to where Tamlin sat waiting at a table inside. If she glanced at her phone, she probably had another text waiting from him. Growing impatient.

“He can wait,” Mor said, not unkindly.

“Yeah,” Feyre rasped. “Talking would be… nice.”

It was a little too cold for the iron chairs, which seared through Feyre’s leggings. But the cold calmed her, and she appreciated the privacy. The lack of sounds and smells.

Mor was ever-patient, waiting for Feyre to speak.

When it was clear that she wouldn’t, Mor said, “How have you been? That was some night out, huh?”

Right. That was the last time she’d seen or spoken to Mor. Feyre had been meaning to respond to her text—Heyy! Fun night? 😏

And the follow-up one a day later. My cousin is asking for your phone number. Is it okay if I share it?

They’d both seem innocent enough and at first, Feyre hadn’t answered because she’d felt a twinge of guilt for not staying long enough to meet Mor’s cousin. Then, because Tamlin had showed up at her door with a bouquet of apologies and she hadn’t known how to explain to her friend that she’d taken him back. Nor how to explain to Tamlin that she’d had a one night stand during their breakup.

Then she’d found out she was pregnant, and she hadn’t said much of anything to anyone.

“Yeah,” Feyre said, numbness growing where her legs pressed to the chair.

“And now you’re back with Tamlin,” Mor said slowly, waiting for Feyre to fill in the gaps.

The iron latticework of the outdoor table was much more interesting.

Mor sounded disappointed as she probed, “You said it was the last time you guys were breaking up.”

Feyre mustered all the cheer she could force into her voice. “It was the last time. We’re not going to break up again.”

She’d felt much more confident about that line when she’d said it three weeks ago to a disapproving Alis. Already, Feyre could feel that creature slither over her shoulder, hissing into her ear. If she turned, its pupils would be slitted into two digital lines that begged her acknowledgment.

“Right,” Mor said. “And yet, you came into this cafe looking like you were about to burst into tears because…?”

“Because I’m pregnant,” Feyre blurted.

And there it was. That creature turned real. She felt it reach through her chest and tug. Suddenly, all of that sea water she’d swallowed a moment ago came rising to the surface, and her body regurgitated the words that had been drowning her.

“It’s not Tamlin’s. It’s… remember the guy I met at the club? The one with the purple eyes? It was supposed to be this stupid, drunken one night stand, only first names—I don’t even have his number, Mor. I have some nameless, mysterious baby daddy, and I haven’t told Tamlin because I know he’s going to be…” she blinked back the sting in her eyes. “He’s going to be so furious with me.”

Mor was gaping. Whatever she’d expected… it clearly hadn’t been that.

Waiting for her friend’s reaction felt like treading water in a deep, bottomless ocean. But at least she wasn’t drowning anymore. At least the creature had receded back into the shadows, and her breathing was shallow but still filling her lungs.

Then Mor’s eyes flickered over Feyre’s shoulder. Her expression morphed into such panic that Feyre whirled, only to be met face to face with those shocking purple eyes so wide that she could only assume he’d heard the whole damn thing.

“Feyre,” Mor croaked from behind.

But Feyre couldn’t tear her eyes away from Rhys. In the time since their one night stand, Feyre convinced herself she’d exaggerated his appearance. Three shots of tequila could make anyone beautiful. But here she was, stone-cold sober, fighting her jaw not to drop at the sight of him.

The same short black hair she tugged beneath her fingers was now slightly wind-swept, some of it falling to his face in endearing curls that she concluded were purposefully arranged. He was wearing a navy sweater with a white collared shirt beneath—infuriatingly put together, where she was still sniffing back tears, dressed in her same paint-stained clothes from yesterday.

She’d prepared scripts for him, too, though she always imagined he was someone she would take years to track down. That she’d have time to prepare what to say to him, how to move forward knowing their lives were irrevocably entwined.

“Feyre,” Mor said again after awkwardly clearing her throat. “Meet my cousin, Rhysand.”

Cousin. The one who wanted her number.

“Oh,” Feyre whispered, so many horrible details clicking into place.

Rhysand mustered enough composure to manage a strained: “It’s great to see you again, Feyre.”

Feyre dropped her head into her hands. “Oh my god.”

A chair scraped against the pavement.

Mor said, “I’ll give you two a moment alone.”

She peaked between her fingers, just enough to watch Mor retreat towards the cafe. Likely playing guard dog to ensure Tamlin didn’t stumble upon them. She heard Rhys walk around the table, his footsteps light, as if he were approaching an animal he didn’t want to startle. Then, a pair of broad hands swam into vision as he gripped the back of Mor’s deserted chair, his brown knuckles paling.

He didn’t sit. She could feel his gaze like a leaden weight, so heavy that she couldn’t gather the strength to raise her head.

“When did you find out?” He asked eventually.

Feyre searched for any accusation in his voice, but it was gentle. She lifted her head, finding that some of his shock had thawed, though his expression was unreadable.

“A week ago,” she said.

“Have you…” He rubbed a hand through his hair. “Do you know what you want to do?”

This is where she braced herself. She knew her voice was creeping towards defensive as she said levelly, “I’m keeping the baby.”

Rhysand swallowed thickly. Nodded. “Okay.”

Okay. That knocked her a bit off guard. The lack of questions, of demand for her justification. She’d been preparing for a fight with Tamlin and felt stranded in the face of such simple, ready acceptance. It had to be a trap.

“It was my decision,” Feyre said, plowing ahead. “So I don’t expect anything from you. You don’t need to be… involved. I have no delusion that we’d ever be some perfect nuclear family. If you want to just walk away, this is your chance.”

“And,” Rhysand broached with such caution that Feyre’s spine straightened, “if I want to be involved… would that be okay with you?”

“We’d need to work something out,” she said, ignoring how her voice cracked. Mor’s family came from money. She could already imagine the legal proceedings, the paperwork, the negotiations over days of the week and alternating Christmases. At least Nesta was a lawyer. “I don’t want to get the courts involved. But if it goes that direction—“

“It won’t need to,” he said. “We can play it by ear, do whatever feels right. I just… I’d like to be involved. Starting now.”

The excruciating weight of that small little pea plummeted in her chest. “Starting now?”

Rhys nodded. “If you need someone to drive you to the appointments, or if you need me to pitch in for baby supplies. I’m… I want to help.”

“I’ll think about it.”

His face fell a little.

If she shut him out completely, a lawyer was guaranteed to come knocking at her door. Feyre added, “It’d be nice to get to know you before anything else.”

“Would you like to grab a coffee together?”

“As friends,” Feyre hedged. “I know we—” An image flashed in her mind of those fingers in her mouth, between her thighs. She tried not to flush. “—you know. But I have a boyfriend now. And I’m not looking for you to be my…”

She searched for a word but found none that quite articulated what, exactly, Rhys would be to her.

Baby daddy?

“I just want us to be friends,” she clarified.

His perfect lips, which had once expertly kissed and licked and teased her, edged into a smile. “Then would you like to grab a coffee together as friends?”

“Yes.” She smiled back and found that the pea in her stomach didn’t feel quite so heavy. “Not today, though. I’m, uh… meeting my boyfriend.”

“And I’m meeting my cousin.”

“Right.” Feyre reached stiffly into her pocket, retrieving her phone. “Why don’t you give me your number, and I’ll text you?”

The iron chair practically sighed in relief as Rhysand released it from his death grip. His motions were stiff, too, she noted, as he punched in his number and handed it back to her a tad too mechanically.

Their fingers brushed as she accepted it back, and she felt for the second time that day like she couldn’t breathe. Their eyes met, held. “You say the word, Feyre darling. Any time, any place, and I’m yours.”

She thought she might have said something back or just stared dumbly at his obscenely beautiful face. She couldn’t remember, and he didn’t say anything else before he nodded his goodbye and chased after Mor.

It took Feyre a long time to find the willpower to follow after him, back into that cafe, and breathlessly apologize to Tamlin for being late. And she pretended she couldn’t feel a pair of violet eyes watching her as she sat across from Tamlin, forcing a smile.

[ashesandhackles]

@hprecfest Day 2 - A Comfort fic

Regretfully Yours by @maria-de-salinas

Severus/ Petunia. Explicit.

The unexpectedly tender and intimate romance between Severus and Petunia - post the events of First War- tops this list. Maria has a way of writing care, intimacy with such loving attention to detail, it blows me away in all of her work. This also has a sequel!

Summary:

1981 was not Petunia's year. The day before New Year's Eve, determined to make a fresh start of it, she straps Harry and Dudley into the car and flees north--only to hit into the biggest snowstorm she's ever seen in her life. Grief-stricken and dazed by his pivot from Death Eater to teacher, Severus Snape spends his holiday far from everyone, wandering aimlessly through the snow. The last thing either of them wanted was their paths to collide, but when Petunia gets stuck in the snow, they'll get stuck with each other.

2. Not bright or noble, but almost sublime by @yletylyf

Severus/Sirius raising Harry. Explicit.

I remember talking to Lety when we connected in Snirius fandom: "Where are the fluffy fics? Where are the raising Harry fics?" Of course, Snirius fandom as a whole is interested in the tension and delicious angst of Sirius and Severus together, often veering to darker territories - so it was a relief when Lety started writing this! A very fun Snirius raising Harry story.

Summary:

On that fateful Halloween night in Godric's Hollow, Severus Snape and Sirius Black unite in a common cause: find the Secret-Keeper who betrayed their best friend. Or: A temporary truce turns into something much more.

3. The Dog and Deer Detective Agency by @artemisia-black

Sirius/OFC.

If you ever wanted to see Sirius Black in a noir-esque mystery, this is your fic. Not only is Artemisia good at building the luxuriant atmosphere for the foreboding story, this is a good exploration of Sirius in an alternate universe without threat of Voldemort. He is a freer version of the man you might see in canon, but still has that family baggage. There is also tons of baby Harry and Sirius cuteness (yes, that is my catnip- Harry and Sirius are my favourite dynamic in canon)

Summary:

Set in an AU where Voldemort is never born. James and Sirius are both the best of friends and brilliant wizards, and not wanting to be tied down to a 9-to-5, they founded a detective agency. A year in, they have had a steady business from scorned spouses until one day a woman arrives and draws them into a sinister plot in the Scottish Highlands.

sore subject by @incalculablepower

Lavendar Brown/Parvati Patil & Demelza Robbins/Parvati Patil

No one gets the romantic comedy #vibe of Half Blood Prince quite like Incalculable Power. This fic is special among her work because she captures an experience lot of queer women go through - an intense codependent friendship that is just waiting to edge into romance.

Summary:

The High Priestess, reversed. Trust your intuition. Your true self is waiting; she refuses to be contained for much longer.

Orchards by @whinlatter

Harry/Ginny.

Whinlatter dropped into the fandom with a 17k fic written about the summer Harry and Ginny fell in love, and it was utterly beautiful tribute to first loves, Harry, Ginny and also, the third character: the orchard. Even when the fic weaved in the grief Harry is still dealing with and references the war years, it is infused with hope for the future.

Summary:

The orchard is a wild, thousand-flower, crumpled-gate, fall-down-fence sort of place, where things grow that you’ve never asked for, that you’d never expect. The summer of ’96, the story of something flowery he thought he might have smelled at the Burrow.