#it was never supposed to reach between 11k and 12k words but like that happened so enjoy it i guess? ;)

[stylinsonlibrary]

JEALOUS HARRY FIC REC

Always make sure to read all tags/warnings/author’s notes before reading!

Now That It’s Over (8k)

“What are the odds we would both be at Mariano’s on a Thursday night?”

Louis’ shoulders tensed. What the hell was he doing here?

“Harry? Hi? The odds are pretty crazy, yeah.”

Harry smiled down at Louis the way he used to, but there was also a glint in his eye that Louis absolutely did not like. Harry was also dressed in his favorite black and white striped women’s jeans and a printed shirt only he would ever be able to pull off. It was quite rude of him to come and interrupt Louis, particularly while looking so good. Louis hadn’t seen him since he’d finished moving his shit out of what was once their shared flat, so this being the first time seeing him wasn’t exactly providence in Louis’ mind.

Or the one where Harry and Louis broke up two months ago, and Harry just might be sabotaging Louis’ dates.

Forever, Uninterrupted (8k)

Harry finds a mysterious picture in Louis’ bag one night and drives himself crazy over it. It’s definitely not what he thinks.

can’t go without you anymore (10k)

Harry Styles was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. This was award season. He wasn’t even nominated for anything, still everyone wanted a piece of him. But Harry was lonely. And a stressed and lonely Harry did no one good. What if one night his friends and his manager just ran into the most fitting boy for their friend? And what if maybe they set him up as Harry Styles personal assistant. It already sounds like the beginning of a disaster.

or Personal Assistant Louis Tomlinson is going to be the end of actor Harry Styles. This was a given.

We Can Be Greater (10k)

Louis, Harry, Zayn, Niall, and Liam, were simply five run away teens, desperately seeking a safe haven from their foster home. When they discovered an abandoned building, they entered it, their lives ceased to remain the same because they entered upon a different realm. A new universe, one in which they were superheroes.

The moment they reached this new world, they were desperately needed to defeat a villain; sounds cool right? Except they had no clue of their powers, this new world, the villain, or how to get back home. This is the story of how five outcasts turned from hooligans into heroes.

See Clearly Now (11k)

“My eyes are up here.”

What? Was— was Louis flirting with him?

Harry looked up — much too slowly, probably — and saw Louis watching him, his mouth quirked up on one side, a grin threatening to steal the pretty curve of his mouth.

“What?” Harry squeaked.

Louis put his hands on his hips, almost challenging Harry to look again, “I said...my eyes are up here.”

Harry felt something electric pass between them. He felt the need to take a step forward, call Louis’ bluff, see if he was more bark than bite.

Biting sounded really fun right about now.

OR a five-times fic where two guys, one college dorm room and a faulty door lead to a few embarrassing situations and finding out more about themselves and each other than they ever bargained for.

No One Else Will Do (13k)

Harry visibly takes a deep breath. “I’ll do it. I’ll…help you through your heat.” He looks more determined now as he stands up straighter and his eyes look at Louis more intensely.

“Yeah?” Louis doesn’t mean to sound so surprised but he’s sort of in a state of shock. He’s never been with an alpha before, and the fact that his first time is going to be with Harry— his best friend— well, he couldn’t really ask for anyone better if he’s honest.

It takes Louis’ early heat for Harry and Louis to figure things out.

End of the World Tonight (12k)

“You remember when you told me that you wanted to live with me for the rest of your life?” Louis asks. His voice trembles a bit, exposing exactly how much he hates what he’s about to do. How much he wishes that he wasn’t about to do it.

“I remember,” Harry says. His expression is a little lost, like he thinks that they’re about to have a fight and he’s not sure what they’re supposed to be fighting about. Louis closes his eyes because he has to, has to take a second to regain his courage. He can’t keep doing this. He can’t keep suffering, can’t keep killing himself trying to hide this. He’s ready. He’s been ready for a long time.

one more for the stars (16k)

It's different, and Louis knows that, because Harry's got so much riding on this - a career and a future and his whole life. There's talk of him going first overall in the draft, of entering the NFL after only two years in college, of going to New York or Seattle or Green Bay, and Louis wants to be there for him, wants to support him and help him make decisions, but he also kind of wants to pin him to the bed and cry and scream, What about me what about me what about me?

(au. Harry's the star quarterback and Louis is about to graduate. It's a heartbreak waiting to happen.)

ain't going backwards, won't ask for space. (17k)

They've been best friends for eight years, but have never acted on the sexual tension that's existed between them. And when they do, it's completely impossible to stop the feelings that arise from denying themselves of what was always meant to be.

or the one where two idiots fall in love after years of being just best friends.

kiwi (24k)

With a stuttered mixture of a laugh and a groan, Harry lets his head droop, pushes his forehead against Louis’ chest and leans into him, fingers curled around the railing.

"You’re driving me crazy,” he breathes.

Louis lets out a puff of laughter, and when Harry lifts his eyes, the look in Louis’ gaze is one he knows too well, so distinctively coy and mischievous and gently charming, his lips quirked up with a smirk. Harry’s heart falls into the palms of his playful hands. “You’re into it.”

AU. Harry plays on Saturday nights at The Motley. Louis bartends on Saturday nights at The Motley.

It’s a thing.

Counting The Steps Between Us (24k)

AU. So, yeah. That year abroad helped Harry establish that he is in love with his best friend. Now, if Louis would stop treating him like a little brother, that would be awesome. (Additional ingredients: a collapsing tree house, a lot of pining, the other three boys as Louis' new best mates from university, and a camping trip. Serve hot.)

everything comes back to you (29k)

Louis lets out a shuddering breath. “I love you,” he says.

“Fuck you,” Harry replies.

“You know that I’ve always loved you,” Louis continues, not stopping to acknowledge what Harry’s said.

Harry shakes his head. “I know, but sometimes I wonder if that ever went past us just growing up together. We were never apart Louis, never for so many years, and the minute we were you just left me. So sometimes, when I let myself think about it, I think maybe that’s why we don’t work. You were just so used to loving me because you didn’t know anything else.”

Louis and Harry, best friends since before either of them can remember, broke up four years ago. Louis has achieved his dreams of becoming the next big thing while Harry has stayed back, dedicating himself to his studies. Both are content to forget what they had together, until a tragedy brings them right back into each other's lives.

Show me wealth, I’ll show your heart (30k)

Harry knows the value of money. He knows how to negotiate numbers, knows its worth in engines, and knows the amount he needs to secure for his business. What he didn’t know was that, if spent wisely, money is the one thing he really doesn’t need.

Or AU where Harry has more money than he can handle, Louis can’t handle not having any, and they both find out the greatest wealth isn’t countable.

the beginning of everything (30k)

“How do you take it?” Harry asked, pouring tea into a cup.

“Just a dash of milk, please,” Louis cast a look over the small table, filled to capacity. “They’re very fond of you.”

Harry ducked his head, grinning. “They’re trying to impress you.”

Louis smiled, shaking his head. “Why would they want to do that?” he asked as he took the cup Harry passed to him, their fingers brushing for an instant.

“Empathy,” Harry said under his breath.

A Belle Époque AU set (mostly) in Paris in which Harry is a struggling artist, in more ways than one, and Louis is a successful theatre critic and a failed writer, more or less.

You’re the Light (31k)

Before beginning a new graduate school in the fall, Louis Tomlinson decides to spend the summer working in Chicago as an editor’s assistant for the Chicago Tribune newspaper and staying with his old college roommate. What he finds on his first day of work is a tall, gorgeous editor named Harry who has the most beautiful green eyes he’s ever seen—and who also happens to be his new boss.

Follow Your Heart (32k)

“What do you mean exactly?” Harry asks. Louis’ heart is threatening to beat out of his chest. His stomach is sinking, and he’s holding his breath waiting for the words he knows are coming.

“We think it would be best to market you guys as a couple,” Simon tells them. The tone in his voice makes Louis think there’s no wiggle room to even try to argue about it.

Louis’ heart stops and his breath hitches. This cannot be happening. This has to be some sort of dream. Actually this has to be some sort of prank, really. He absentmindedly looks around the room for any evidence of hidden cameras or microphones to no avail.

“You’re kidding,” Louis says flatly. Louis is pretty sure a lot of the music industry these days likes to hide the fact that an artist isn’t straight, afraid that it might affect record sales and now he’s sitting in the middle of an executive label meeting being told he had to be in a relationship with his best friend–who’s a boy he’s been secretly in love with for most of his adolescence–in order to sell records? What kind of alternate universe level bullshit is he living in?

(your heartbeat) rang true inside my bones (32k)

Harry goes as Louis’ date for a weekend wedding. He ends up taking the role a bit too seriously.

“Hey,” Harry hears himself say just as Louis climbs back into the car. He ducks down, holding onto the roof to look at Louis who cocks his brow at him and says, “What?”

“I meant it,” Harry starts. “Like, I’d do it. I’d be your date for the wedding. If it’d make you feel less awful about being there and if you want me to, I’ll do it. I promise I’ll be good.”

you burn with the brightest flame (42k)

Harry frowns, thinking that he shouldn’t have to be glad about what gender he is, just like omegas shouldn’t have to be scared and nervous that anyone they meet might want to hurt them. He wonders why none of this occurred to him before, how he possibly could’ve just sailed through life before this without realizing how fortunate he was being born a beta. That seems a bit too serious of a conversation for Simon Cowell’s waiting room, though, so Harry puts an arm around Louis’s shoulders and teases, “You say that like you’re old or something. Two years isn’t that big of a difference!”

“Tell me that when you’re eighteen and looking back on this conversation,” Louis says.

“Well that’s - that’s different, isn’t it? We could be anywhere in two years, we could be famous.”

Louis’s eyes light up, his smile widening. “You think so?”

…or, the X-Factor Era A/B/O fic.

Cupid’s Chokehold (35k)

But - naively, stupidly, blindly - Harry holds out hope for a love that’s written across the stars. He can’t give up the feeling that there’s someone out there, waiting for him.

He’s just going to have to wait for them, too.

Or: Louis is a Cupid who tries to match up Niall and Harry. It doesn’t work out as planned.

Wonderwall (43k)

Taking the sheet cluttered with times available for the next few weeks, Louis notices a pattern in the list. The name of the person Perrie had just mentioned: Harry Styles. It’s written at least seven times, and three of which are during timeframes Louis wants.

“Who the fuck is Harry Styles?”

“You’re about to find out,” she answers, pointing over Louis’ shoulder.

Or a Love/Hate College AU where Louis Tomlinson is the lead singer of The Rogue - the most popular band on campus - and Harry Styles is the talented Freshman unknowingly challenging all that.

Let Me Touch You Where Your Heart Aches (46k)

Alcohol was all he could taste. Alcohol and Harry, and he didn’t mind one bit. Harry kissed him back with just as much fervent heat. He pushed Louis against the taxi door and pulled his head back, breathing hot and heavy against his lips. “Let’s go, yes?”

Or a Friends with Benefits AU, in which Louis falls in love and Harry is jealous. There is some Karaoke singing somewhere in there, because how do you write a romantic comedy without a Karaoke scene?

Some Things Take Root (50k)

AU. Louis’ ex doesn’t get jealous of anyone besides Harry. Harry helps Louis use that to his advantage.

Love's On The Line, Is That Your Final Answer? (53k)

Harry can’t believe it when Louis, the boy he’s always had a tempestuous rivalry with, asks him to be his boyfriend. Well, pose as his boyfriend, that is—for a new television game show in which young couples are quizzed on how well they know each other for a jackpot of thirty grand.

Reluctantly, Harry agrees—because he's got student loans to pay off, hasn't he? What's the harm? And he can totally deal with keeping his secret thing for Louis under wraps too. This is all just to win some money. It's fine. No big deal. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, everything. Obviously.

Amazing Sin (56k)

Gears started turning in Louis’ head. Purely mischievous gears that had Louis formulating a revenge plan against Taylor. He’d had enough of sitting around and taking it. If she was going to call him a whore, then fine, he’ll act like one for real. “I’m going to say something, and as my friends you are obligated to love me anyway.”

“This can’t be good,” Niall said, Zayn just groaned.

“So I know we have this strict ‘no lashing back at Taylor’ rule with me, but what if I can get press revenge a different way?” Louis asked. He wasn’t expecting an answer, because they knew by now to just go with it. “What if I stole her boyfriend?”

Or, the story of Louis ‘Steal Your Man’ Tomlinson.

Strawberries & Cigarettes (71k)

Harry looks up and immediately freezes. Next to Ms. Archie stands the boy from just the other day. The boy with the leather jacket and chipped black nails, that might or might not be sketched in the very book Harry has just placed on the table in front of him. The leather jacket is missing today, probably because they aren’t allowed as part of their required uniform attire, but Harry can still see the fading black nail polish on his nails, and eyeliner around his eyes. Harry’s mouth goes a little dry. This boy is so intriguing to him.

“Ye-yes, Ms. Archie?” Harry tries to play it cool, but he’s almost positive that his cheeks are burning red, and he’s relieved neither of them can tell how fast his heart is beating in his chest.

The boy seems to also recognize Harry, because his lips curve into a knowing smirk.

“Harry is at the top of his class. He’s your best bet at getting familiar with things around here.” She explains.

Louis nods, his smirk still very prominent on his face. “Thank you Ms. Archie. I’ll be sure to take advantage of young Harold here.”

Two stories, eleven years, and the two boys that never stopped loving each other.

Pinkies Never Lie (83k)

“I just think if we’re both into it and neither of us is looking for something serious, why not?” Harry asks, eyes soft and voice sweet. He pauses and gives Louis a moment or two to answer.

There are countless reasons why Louis shouldn’t agree to this, but in the end, none of them really matter. This will end with Louis in pieces, but he’s been in love with Harry for four years. There was only ever one answer.

“Yeah,” Louis answers finally, hoping his voice sounds normal. “Why not?”

AU in which Louis hates his job and loves Harry, Harry just wants a distraction, everyone else wants them to get their shit together, and Louis learns the hard way that new beginnings are only possible when something ends.

You Drive Me Crazy (but it feels alright) (102k)

Bridget Jones’ Diary AU.

“Harry is not short for Harold,” he corrects, his voice as thick as molasses. He lowers his eyes to Louis’ sequined lapels, rubbing one between two fingers. “Is this small or extra small? It looks lovely.”

Louis breaks away from his grip with a petulant huff and pushes him back with two fingers.

“You’re mocking me. Again.”

Harry smiles and it’s a real honest swoop of his lips this time. Louis’ stomach swoops with them.

A Taste of Desire (104k)

“As forward as I have been with you this evening, I am also aware this dinner party isn’t the place to conduct business.” Mr. Tomlinson chuckles quietly to himself, shooting a subtle glance across the table towards their hostess. “And besides, I am sure our hostess would be horribly disappointed to learn that we went away this evening with a business agreement and not a mating one.”

Harry, who had been sipping his wine, coughs harshly at this. He splutters, unaccustomed to such blatant statements about mating.

Mr. Tomlinson continues to laugh quietly, clearly pleased at Harry’s reaction.

“Mrs. Humphreys promised that there was an alpha attending the dinner tonight that I would certainly get on well with,” Mr. Tomlinson continues, voice teasing. “She assured me that we would have much in common since we both work with mills.” Mr. Tomlinson glances at Harry, eyes flashing with mirth. “Little did she know that would be where our mutual interests began and ended.”

Or, a Victorian ABO where Harry is the owner of the most successful cotton mill in Manchester, and Louis is an opinionated social activist about to disrupt Harry’s world.

falling into you (143k)

In the grand scheme of adolescence and boyhood, Harry was still working himself out, so far with little luck. But four things he could say for certain: 1) he'd been at the top of his class all through primary and secondary school, 2) he was the shittiest alpha to ever walk the earth, 3) Liam Payne never let him forget it, and 4) he’d been in love with this boy, Louis Tomlinson, ever since he was fifteen years old.

He kissed my lips, I taste your mouth (290k)

When Louis moves into the flat next to Harry’s, neither of them thinks it will change their lives. Louis is stuck in a relationship with his controlling and overly possessive boyfriend who he loves too much to break up with. Harry is content, seeking refuge from the snobby world he grew up in and forging a new path for himself. He does happen to have a habit of wanting to fix people though and when he meets Louis, the gorgeous man with a prat of a boyfriend, he finds himself trying to do just that. While Harry tries to avoid getting tangled in a messy situation, Louis tries to deny that there’s a niggling voice in the back of his head that prefers Harry to his own boyfriend. While both determinedly refuse to let change come, they fail to notice that exact force wrapping around them and pulling them tighter together until there just might be no escape from the feelings brewing within.

[dcbicki]

S O M E W H E R E   I N   T H E   W I N T E R   W O O D S | Chapter Eight

Red Riding Hood AU: Lost on her way to her grandmother’s cabin in the winter woods after running away from home, beautiful young Sansa thinks she’s run into trouble when she crosses a white wolf in the forest. Instead of harming her, the animal guides her to his master, a handsome warrior named Jon who lives in solitude and clothes himself in black.

After much persuasion, he begrudgingly agrees to take her to her granny’s, so long as she never bother him again and promises to keep the local townspeople from hunting after his wolf. But snows fall heavily on the mountains as days go by and evil lurks behind frozen trees, making this no easy feat.

Below | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

AO3 or FFnet

“Do we have much further to walk?”

It feels as though they’ve been travelling for days, when in reality it has probably only been some hours.

There’s no way of keeping track of time, and so Sansa has forged her own functioning clock. Her mind. The sun is setting, fading into the horizon, setting below the tallest of mountains.

They’re elevated, high above the rest of the Woods or the entire village. If she tried hard enough, she could probably spot her locale.

“No.” He voices with a gruff, eyes dark from what she can see. She has been at his side for some time now, having gotten fed up with following his lead.

Yes, he knows the way. Yes, he knows these woods better than she ever could or ever will. But she is the one with a destination to reach and a goal to achieve. She is the one who forced them on this path in the first place; it only make sense that she keep pace with her guide.

The sun is barely visible over the sky’s coral evening light, and Sansa wonders if they will once again be venturing on and forward as night falls.

“How far then?”

“A couple hundred feet, I reckon.”

She feels a shiver run up her spine at the news. Granny is close, as is her fate. Granny will be here, and he will leave me here, and he will leave to never be seen again.

There’s a rising feeling in her gut, clogging up her throat and weighing down her shoulders. It’s hard to carry, tough to swallow. She does not know him, not truly, but she does not wish to leave him.

“Will you stay for supper?”

“Aye, I will. If your Gran would be so kind.” Sansa can tell he tries to smile, tries to force an offering of optimism and glee.

It’s for her benefit, she knows. But his attempt at a grin fails, and her heart is nevertheless softened by his willingness to try.

“Granny would surely invite you in. She does love a handsome man. She’s always told me tales of her younger days.” Sansa blushes, ducks her head, “Besides, you brought me here. She can’t refuse your stay.”

“I won’t be staying, Sansa. Know that.” Jon reminds her pointedly, with a crooked eyebrow shadowing over a blank expression. “I’ll be on my way home as soon as I can.”

“Even still? You haven’t changed your mind? Haven’t had a change of heart?”

“Aye.”

“Yes? You have?”

“No. Aye, I haven’t.” He corrects, repeats himself conclusively.

She understands, and declares with a sigh, “That’s a pity.”

She shrugs, folds her arms over her chest and keeps her eyes focused on the ground they trudge along on, carefully stepping over thick snow-coated roots emerging from the dirt.

He doesn’t talk after that, at least not to continue their conversation. It seems settled, as though the thick dust between them has finally fallen and his plans are concretely laid out in cement.

“We’re here.”

Those are words she has been half-wishing for, half-dreading to hear for days now. It almost seems too easy.

Granny is here, and so are we, and this is where you leave me.

“Is that your Granny’s house?”

Raising her head, hands clasped around the thick material of the hood of her cloak, Sansa looks up and over at the rustic cabin out in the open area of the woods. There are trees surrounding it, leaves and and branches fallen at the entrance, snow sheltering the exterior of the house.

The rooftop is pure white, all thick and glimmering snowflakes forming a flat mass of snow Sansa craves running her gloved hands through. It would be so refreshing, to hear the crunch of fresh snow crumbling between her fingers.

She pays little attention to Jon or his wolf as she begins to near the cabin, boots breaking in the fresh layer of snow covering the brick path that leads her forward.

There are no candles lit inside, she can tell. Granny always lit candles to keep warm, always had hot flames flickering and a crackling fire burning to keep the heat inside when the winter was blisteringly harsh outside.

She makes it up the path, narrowly avoiding a couple patches of frosted-over cobbles to keep her balance, and knocks on the door. She taps three times, with a gloved fist twitching uneasily.

She cannot decide if she is excited to have reached her destination, to have accomplished what she set out to do, or rather perplexed at the realisation that her journey has reached its conclusion.

“Grandmother?”

Lyarra Stark adores her grandchildren, invites them in with open arms any chance she gets. It isn’t often they get to see her. She lives far away, isolated from her family, and refuses to trade out her treasured house for the Starks’ cramped living situation.

She had once suggested that the girls come live with her, to help her around the house because she was getting old and needed a little assistance from time to time.

Sansa had been eager to agree to the proposal, to get away from home and spend time with her grandmother, and she’d eventually managed to bribe the usually unfazed Arya into joining her.

They’d decided it would be a good idea for them, a chance to bond and learn and grow as women. But Catelyn had disagreed, claimed they needed to stay at home and help their brothers grow up instead. She’d argued that there were more opportunities to mature as young women in the village, surrounding by people and men and a community to learn from.

She hadn’t been wrong, Sansa knows. But her mother’s insistence on her becoming a clever, charming young woman had eventually included forcing an unwilled engagement upon her.

She sometimes wishes she had ran away sooner, sought out her Granny’s council many moons ago.

Her daydreaming eyes flicker open from their momentary daze when some minutes have passed and there has still been no answer at the door. And so, she knocks again, and waits patiently for her Granny’s face to appear behind the creaking old wooden door.

“Sansa.”

Jon is by her side, she senses, feels the ever-present heat from his body radiate onto her own when he breathes beside her. He’s warm, and reassuring, comforting without even knowing it.

“Something isn’t right.”

There’s a hand on her shoulder then, and Jon is pulling her away from the door. He isn’t rough, doesn’t force her backwards; only moves her to the side before taking her place.

He hammers loud against the door with the side of his clenched fist, much unlike the way Sansa had done, his knuckles aching beneath their leather cushion.

The pounding is heavy, the weight of his fist hammering down against the worn wood echoing out past them and through the aches of trees they crossed, and it’s sure to wake even the deepest of sleepers from the numbest of slumbers.

His fist thumps again and again, and one last time when he’s greeted with nothing but silence, the lone cawing of hungry crows answering their persistent thudding.

Sansa has to wrap her hand over his own then, fingers curling dangerously right around his wrist to stop him from splintering the wood and beating down the door.

“Jon.” She voices, and when he grudgingly spins around to face her, his eyes catch sight of her numbing lips and rosy cheeks. “Stop.”

Irresolute, he lowers his fist until she lets go of him, uncurls her pale fingers from the patch of flesh that escapes past the sleeve of his clothes. He doesn’t make much of the gooseflesh running up his arm, coating his arm in shivers; instead choosing to unsheathe his sword and draw it between them, the blade forced between the humid door’s edge and the frame that encases it.

“Move back.”

His shoulders shift once Sansa takes a couple steps backwards down onto the frosty stones, and he steps forward into position, carefully jamming the sharp tip of his long blade in the crevice and wiggling, forcing a shift between the door and its lock.

Sansa doesn’t have a moment to second guess his plan before its working, splinters of battered wood flying down onto Jon’s snowy boots.

The door is open, and her sigh of relief is pitched as she scurries past him, almost running forward until she is inside.

It’s a strange feeling, to be inside Granny’s house with a man who isn’t Father. She’s been coming here since she was but an infant, all weak bones and milk teeth.

But time has passed, and she’s older now, and she thinks that perhaps this overwhelmingly new sensation she’s feeling is only the realisation that she is grown, of her own will and mind.

“Are you sure she’s here?”

Granny never leaves, never ventures out. Granny would die here when the time came, Sansa thinks, and gulps at the thought.

“She’s here.”

The redhead is sure of her answer, though her grandmother’s exact whereabouts escape her completely. She would have woken up at the banging, would have screamed at the beating down of her door.

Jon is kicking the door shut behind him when she finally turns to face him, all doe-eyed and flushed. The warmth of the fire roaring in the living space had heated her body within seconds, and her once cold cheeks are now blazing hot.

He shakes his bag off, sheaths his sword back into place before sliding his belongings down onto a rickety old table by the doorway.

The ceiling in the house is low, lower than Sansa ever remembers it being when she was younger. But then, she was younger, and shorter, and a child. She is no child now.

Copying his action, Sansa sets her basket down on the table, making room for the wicker carrier by carefully shifting his guarded sword to stand by the door on its bladed edge.

Jon is stood by the fire, rubbing bare hands above the embers. His cloak seems to hang heavy on his shoulders, all snow-coated and fitting to his name. His skin glows the colour of snow-dusted rusty steel above the fire, all crystal white and fiery amber. You are Snow, and snow is you.

She thinks she must be ivory herself, all flushed and warm and cold eyed.

“That’s a rather alarming smell.”

She knows what he means, refers to.

There is an overwhelming stench of perished meat lingering in the air, and Sansa cannot remember any such unbearable smell during her childhood.

Perhaps Granny has cooked some dear and forgotten to toss out the scraps. Or mayhap she’d been unsuccessful in finding new food and had settled for a meal of sheer repulsion and desperation.

Sansa heart aches at the thought; Granny eating old rotten meat alone because she cannot hunt fresh food or measly fauna.

“Yes,” she agrees. It’s hard to bear now that it’s been properly pointed out, and the young woman covers her mouth with her palm, pinching her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “It’s coming from the back room.” She points towards the right corner of where they stand.

She remembers Granny’s bedroom being behind the loosely hanging curtain on the left side of the room, and the cramped kitchen residing behind the right.

The living space is sided by those two curtains and the main door, and a third curtain on the wall beside the fireplace. But the third curtain she remembers is now gone, and instead the small doorway is bare to walk through.

Making for the room, she begins to pull on her skirts, gathering the bottom of her robe by her thighs as she heads to relieve herself. It’s been too long, and her body is desperate.

The pot is dirtied, hasn’t been cleaned for a good moon or so, dusted with leaves flown in from the small window by the metal bathtub. She wipes them off hurriedly, wipes the seat with the bottom of her frosted dress, letting the murky snow wipe clean the true dirt. It’ll suffice, and she’ll settle.

When she comes back out of the room, her eyes are immediately drawn to the kitchen’s blind being swept open, Jon in the doorway. He’s quiet, unmoving, one hand wrapped around the knife tucked in his belt.

She makes her up to him, stepping a foot short and placing her hand over his, alerting him of her presence, stopping him from pulling the knife from its guard.

She doesn’t know what he intends to use it for, but she’s quite certain that bloodshed or wood chipping will help no one.

“Found the source of that reeking smell.”

Peering over his shoulder, Sansa claps one hand against the thick material of his cloak to steady herself as she looks ahead. She doesn’t let go of his other hand, doesn’t even think to.

There is a white rabbit on the floor of Granny’s kitchen, split in half from legs to throat. It’s a ghastly sight, made worse by the lack of insides. It’s been ripped apart and used for bits, served as a meal for something, some animal. Granny is kind when killing, when preparing her suppers.

But the rabbit is lay open on the the muddy floor, and there is a large chunk of meat lay at its side. It can’t possibly belong to the small creature, and Sansa bites the insides of her cheeks when she spots the hound rounding the corner before them.

It’s hidden behind the old counter on the far end of the still cramped kitchen, and she isn’t sure it has seen them yet. It would have attacked, surely; would have leapt for Jon before she even had a chance to reach him, if it had.

“How did it get in here?”

She only speaks in a hushed whisper, but Jon is spinning around before she can ask or say anything else, forcing his hand over her mouth to gag her, keep her quiet.

She loses all grip on him then, hands flailing about as he walks her backward. Almost stumbling over her skirts, her bunches them up at her sides, easing her walk.

He’s beside her, walking backwards with one hand clasped firmly over her mouth to control her and the other pulling back the second curtain.

Sansa keeps her eyes clamped shut until he’s stopped, brought them into position inside what she gathers is Granny’s uneven wardrobe.

Father had built it for her some years back, Sansa remembers, admiring the crooked roof and the unsteady floor. She’d never quite understood why, seen as Granny Lyarra possessed fewer clothes than any of her family members. Maybe she’d wanted it for storage, for her bits and pieces.

It’s a cramped space, and the thin door creaks as Jon shuts it behind them. Her body is forced against the wall of its back, shoulders digging into the thick wooden slats.

He stands in front of her, one hand still over her mouth and the other on the panel keeping the door closed, arm crossed over his body, elbow digging into her ribcage.

Eyes open, she can faintly make out the sight of him. But she feels him more than she sees him.

Sansa feels her nose begin to run due to the change in temperature then, so she sniffles and holds her breath steadily, watching his face in the dark for alarm bells.

His palm tightens over her face, and she’s almost positive he is looking at her, watching himself.

It’s a little rough, his hold on her, and when she wiggles her eyebrows in protest, he loosens his grip. His hands smell like melted ice and old leather, she notes; it’s weirdly complimentary to his natural oaky scent.

Shifting his other hand from the wardrobe’s cracked opening, Jon lifts a finger to his lips, indicating that she needs to remain quiet.

There’s a hound, and a hound means trouble, and trouble means her worst nightmare.

She nods, lips pursed against his calloused flesh until he pulls his hand away and lets her breathe in fresh air.

It isn’t fresh though; far from it.

It’s unclean, and the haunting smell of rotten meat and flesh dancing below her nostrils cruelly. She half-wishes he would gag her again, with a cloth this time to suffocate the scent and stop the contaminated air from reaching her lungs.

“Sword.” She whispers, practically mouths. Unable to stop herself from reminding him of his abandoned weapon, she raises a brow and taps a hand to his belt where it should hang.

His hand clasps over her own though, and he only nods, fist curling tight over her joints so his palm covers her whitened knuckles.

He knows what she means, what she’s getting at. But his sword is on the opposite side of the cabin and she isn’t sure how he could retrieve it without catching that hound’s attention or setting its owner’s hidden plan into action.

If one of the hounds if here, if it has made it here alone, than Ramsay must be nearby, or at least very close. Or, perhaps, it came with him and he too is hidden somewhere in her grandmother’s shelter of a home.

This seems unlikely, Sansa thinks to herself. He’s too proud and loud and stupidly grand to hide in a closet as a vicious surprise for her. How could he even know where her Granny lived?

Jon knew the woods. Sansa knew her Granny. But Ramsay and his men and his hounds had no way of knowing where she would be heading unless he had either acquired a map and a man to guide his party, or assembled of trained hunters who could hunt prey by overtaking it.

How could they have arrived faster than Jon and her? She doesn’t know. But she thinks that maybe their day spent in his friend’s cabin had given the enemy the advantage.

She hasn’t paid much mind to her Granny’s whereabouts for a handful of moments now, instead too cooped up in a small wardrobe and worried about whether or not the man she refuses to follow will hunt her and harm her.

But her grandmother hadn’t been in the kitchen, nor by or in the bathtub, nor in the living area she so cherished. The rocking chair that no longer rocked because of its one broken leg was her favourite. She had been nowhere to be found, though, and the thought disturbs Sansa.

What if in fact what had happened was the exact opposite of what she was imagining? What if Ramsay had taken her, and only left this one hound behind as a warning? What if her dear Granny was the price to pay for her freedom?

Finally letting go of Jon’s belt, she shrugs her hand out of his grasp and raises it up to wipe the bridge of her nose. It’s drippy and she sniffles softly behind her palm, concealing the noise the best she can.

How long he plans to make them stay in here, she has no idea. But from the way he looks to be peeking through the crack in the door - well, she assumes, at least - it wouldn’t be too long. He’s determined, resolute; leave her somewhere safe and return home to his solitude and despair.

It’s an awfully sad plan he’s mapped out for himself.

“Stay.” It’s a command, and she will obey because he’s her protection now.

Then Jon moves, elbow digging further into her stomach until he slides it higher to rest beneath the crook of her armpit. He leans against the back of the closet with his elbow, and Sansa turns in default, pushed aside by his body. The left side of her body pressing against the door, she now shares his view of the outside.

The crack in the door traces the entire length of the wardrobe’s height and Sansa stills as she catches sight of something. Her right hand comes to rest against the wood, head tilting forward to get a closer look as she tries to budge Jon out of the way.

But it’s a tight apace, and he has to grab her hips to halt her movements. Fingers digging into her hips, he breathes into her neck, awkwardly stood behind her as she moved ahead of him, “Stop.”

She brushes off his demand and squints, peering out through the one long stream of light in their space. In the darkness, she can make out his curled hair falling into the crook of her neck from the corner of her eye, but she doesn’t mind. Instead, she tries to keep her gaze forward and on target.

It’s strange, the sight before her.

Granny’s bed is in direct opposition of the wardrobe, all singular and standing on iron legs. She usually has it made up, pristine and neat and better than even Sansa could manage.

Only the bed covers are pulled all the way up instead of folded and there seems to be some large form tucked away beneath them.

Had Granny been sleeping this whole time?

Taking a closer look, Sansa feels her lips part as she catches a glimpse of a pair of feet hanging over the bed’s edge. One is bare, the one adorned with a woman’s low suede boot. The laces are undone, as though hurriedly finished. She thinks she recognises them, having tried them on numerous times when she was still young and curious.

There’s a thin, almost transparent stream of red liquid trickling down the naked foot, and the droplets spill on the floor. It’s a pool of blood.

And then Sansa gathers her thoughts, and realisation hits.

The loudest of cries escape past her lips then, as her world seems to crumble and her knees weaken. She almost buckles over in half, stumbling through the closet doors onto the dirty floor of the house until Jon has wrapped both arms her body and pulled her upright.

Her body appears weak, energy lost, and strength replaced with weakness.

His hold is tight, and she somehow manages to find comfort in the grip his hands have on her waist. Her lungs ache, struggle to gasp fresh breaths of the soiled air. The smell is rotting, the ever-present stench of death hanging above them. It makes sense now she thinks with fluttering lashes.

This is the price she is to pay for a little independence.

All this time, all these days walking and waiting and wandering, and Granny was never going to greet her at the end. Granny was never going to be welcoming her with open arms because Granny was dead and so were Sansa’s hopes.

“Stop.”

Jon only repeats himself, repeats earlier words, and runs one hand up and down her side, pulling her into him from behind so she feels his chest flush against her coated back. It’s soothing, in a way, but painful in another.

He holds her so tight she thinks she may have trouble breathing, almost makes her want to hold her breath and wait for death to come and collect her at his feet.

But it’s comforting; the way he holds her so tight she thinks she may have trouble breathing. And he repeats that one word on a loop, and she realises he is trying to calm her down.

“Stop.”

Don’t panic, don’t cry. Please don’t scream, don’t shriek. You have to stop acting. Stop. Fight. Stop. Please.

Letting her shoulders fall against him entirely, Sansa allows her legs to give way, though she keeps her head held high.

She had been fighting this while time, to survive, to reach her grandmother’s house and gain just a little bit of freedom. But it was all in vain.

Her nose is runny again, and her hair itchy at her frustration at the situation, but she has no energy to lift a hand and scratch either itch.

Moulding herself into Jon’s body, she lets her eyes close with a bite of her tongue to stop herself from crying.

She has been fighting this whole time, to survive; she isn’t going to stop now.

Nodding to reassure him that she is calm, Sansa reaches for the hand on her left side, bringing it up to her mouth until he covers her lips with his palm. She squeezes his fingers, adds pressure to the gag, pushing the ball of her hand against his knuckles until he gets the message.

Hold me there. Don’t let me breathe. I’ll scream.

She will subdue herself to some pain, to some controlling if she has to, if this will keep her from feeling. It’s an awful feeling she doesn’t want to experience; the one eating at her insides.

Granny is dead and I do not know why, and I am completely and utterly messed up.

She is messed up, changed as a person, far gone from the girl she was several days ago.

“Sword.” She grits her teeth against his hand, mumbles the word out again and again until he hears her properly.

It’s dark though, and she cannot see his face, so he pinches her side with his other hand to acknowledge her comment.

He knows what she needs, what he needs to do. But he also needs a plan to move forward and a way of going about things before he can act.

Sansa squeezes her eyes shut again, holding her breath until she can no longer and her heart thumps against her will. She is still alive.

Jon’s hold over her mouth slips when he moves, dancing forward until she is back against the wardrobe’s flat wall. His fingers sliding below her chin but refusing to lose contact with her skin, his thumb rests on her chin, gentle and distant.

It’s ticklish almost, the way his skin is softly tracing over hers, and Sansa is certain he hasn’t even acknowledged the shift. It’s unintentional, and it deliciously burns her skin so much that when his thumb traces over her bottom lip, she absentmindedly opens her mouth and clamps her teeth down around his knuckle.

She can feel the bone beneath her teeth, the thirsty veins beneath his skin close to bursting when she darts her tongue against them while softly crunching at his muscles. It hurts him, surely, but he doesn’t flinch, she notices.

He doesn’t move, not fully; only twirls his hand around so he’s cupping the side of her face and the pad of thumb lies flat against her tongue. It’s melted snow and damp oak and Snow. And she likes it.

Lashes flickering, Sansa opens her eyes to find herself staring directly at him. He’s closer to the door now, almost on his way out. But she wants to keep him here, in here, with her, for always.

She’s in pain, and grieving, and she isn’t sure if he still plans on leaving her.

It would break her if he did, if he left her here and never came back. It would crush her heart and rip her in half. He may as well leave her here and bleeding to be eaten and shredded by that hound if he truly means to desert her.

Her plans have suddenly changed now, she notes. As much pain as their plan caused her, she knew how it would end.

She was to stay here with Granny and go home whenever she liked. And he was to leave and go home as soon as he wanted. Only his home was not her home and this saddened her.

She knows it’s foolish, still. She knows this, and yet a part of her still hoped things would end differently.

But perhaps that foolish part of her had been savvier than she’d expected, because now things are different and the plan needs altering.

She’d give him anything if it got him to stay with her, for her. She’d trade her desires for a lifetime of solitude if only it meant she could spend those lonely days at his lonely side.

They could be lonely together; two souls desperate for more but unwilling to act, two hearts loosely tied together with a broken tether.

But he needs to do something now, and work out an escape, and get his sword to get them to safety.

If he can just run, and fight for a moment, then maybe they would have a chance. But hounds are a hungry breed, desperate for food and eager for snacks.

She doesn’t plan on being bait, though, and she isn’t expecting Jon to, either.

Keeping her lips wrapped around his thumb, she ignores the oddity of the situation to instead point a finger down the crack of light in the door.

It’s an awful suggestion, but he will agree once he understands and she will hate herself for thinking of it. It’s dangerous, and she isn’t sure it will work.

Without another thought, Sansa pushes open the door to the wardrobe, almost falling face-first on the ground as it swings open. Jon wraps a hand around her elbow to pull her up before he’s off and heading for the doorway.

She can hear him enticing the dog, encouraging the beast to follow him. He shouts, whistles, and the odds that he could be caught in the outside world by Ramsay or one of his men are high.

They will take their chances, though, Sansa knows. They have to. They have no other alternative.

Pulling the knot of her cape tighter, Sansa holds her breath as she sweeps the furs off of her grandmother’s lying body.

She tries to avoid looking at her wounds. But the wounds are huge gashes, and she has been torn apart around the waist. Her stomach empty, she’s an easy weight for Sansa to drag from the bed. The acknowledgment of such disgusts the redhead.

She had never imagined herself in such a situation. How could she?

No person should ever have to drag their savagely killed grand-parent around like this.

Shooting a glance outside the room, she notices Jon’s sword disappeared from the door, the sheath thrown on the floor, slowly being coated in falling snowflakes from the wind outside.

It blows fast and loud, and she isn’t sure if the noises she can hear are howling or gusts of wind. Perhaps Ghost had returned to them, alive and hungry and ready to fight; they’d lost him for the briefest of moments upon arrival at the house. He hadn’t come in, only gone around the cabin to scour its land.

When the old woman in dropped onto the floor with the slightest of thuds, Sansa keeps her eyes focused on the ceiling as she pulls the largest blanket she can find from the bed and lies it out on the floor.

It’s wide enough, she reckons. Upon second glance, she recognises it as her Granny’s favourite, and the fate of such a circumstance is chilling to her.

Once the blanket is laid flat, she pulls on the booted leg of the woman’s body.

She has to pretend this is somebody else, that this isn’t her dear sweet grandmother she is dragging from a bed and covering with a blanket. What would Father or Mother say? Gods.

Her body is stiff, all bluing and bruised where her blood has stopped flowing. It must have been hours, days. Swallowing a long deep breath, Sansa breathes through her mouth and blocks her nasal respiration until she has her grandmother all spread out on the blanket.

She cannot afford to think about Jon or what is happening outside. If he dies, she is alone and most likely going to die herself. If he survives, she is left with two options. He leaves her with no goodbye, or comes back to her.

“Sansa.”

He’s in the doorway then, her Jon with speckles of fresh red blood on his face and his sword dropping to the floor at his side. There’s a thick coating of blood on the blade, half-coated with clumps of matted fur imbedded in the blood.

“Gods.”

She runs to him then, hands sweeping at his face to rid him of the blood. But it spreads across his face and Sansa’s gloves stick from the moisture.

He doesn’t seem to mind though, the blood on his face, as he looks behind her and admires her handiwork.

It’s awful, she knows; what she’s done, what she’s had to do.

“There’s a lake.”

She doesn’t question what happened outside, only nods once, twice, and once more when Ghost appears in the doorway behind his master. Thank the Gods.

Sansa picks up his dropped sword and leans it against the freshly empty bed, blade scraping the floor.

Leaning down, she waits until Jon is at her level and side before grabbing her corner of the blanket and beginning to roll it over, making sure they are in sync.

Her grandmother deserves better. Well, deserved better.

When the blanket is rolled up, the elderly woman’s crippled limbs stored safely inside, Sansa stands with shaking hands. She watches as Jon picks her up, over his shoulder, unwilling to let the dangling feet divert his attention.

He makes for the door before she can make peace with their situation, and she follows quickly behind, grabbing his dirtied sword on her way. They may need it.

Ghost follows them as they go, trailing behind to keep watch after Sansa. He nudges his nose against the sword every now and again, smelling the blood with flakes of falling snow dancing on his fur.

It’s a powerful image, Sansa finds. Snow white fur and stark red blood. She thinks the contrast is similar to that of her and Jon. Fiery copper and its black shadow.

She is the fire and he is the embers.

They seem to walk for only a moment before they’re reaching a vast opening, where small rosebushes shrink in size until they cease to exist and snowy mud leads the way to the edge of a lake.

She follows Jon down the dock, where there are two boats tied to the wooden post at its end. She doesn’t know who they belong to, nor does she care to find out.

“Steady.”

He’s plopping the rolled up blanket down into one of the boats then, and Sansa has to convince herself that it’s an animal they’re depositing. It’s a dead animal and they need to get rid of it so others don’t go after it. The smell of rotten flesh would attract many, surely.

He’s holding out his hand to her then, waiting for her to take it and join him on the small boat.

It seems like only minutes ago that she was discovering her grandmother’s dead body beneath crumpled sheets. But time flies, and they have to act fast.

Taking his hand, Sansa grips his shoulder to gather her balance before settling down on the boat’s bench, sliding his sword down at her feet. It’s a thin slate of wood, and her legs curl beneath her as Jon unwinds the rope from the dock.

He knows what he’s doing, Sansa tells herself. They won’t be lost, they won’t drown.

Ghost lies down patiently, giant head on giant paws, on the dock’s edge as they depart, determined and on a path of no-return.

Once they’re out in the middle of the lake, Jon lays down the paddle she hadn’t known he’d been holding and brushing back and forth against the water’s current.

“Are you sure?”

Unwilling to ponder over her decision for another moment, Sansa nods her head and stands with unsteady legs.

She waits for Jon to grab the end of the blanket and heave it up onto the side of the boat before placing her palms flat against what she can only assume are her grandmother’s once comforting arms.

With a lick of her lips, the young woman nods once more, glancing at Jon to confirm her wish. He copies her, places both hands flat against the blanket and pushes.

They push in unison until the rolled up mass falls from the edge of the boat, sending them rocking back and forth unevenly. Sansa grips at the side of the boat to balance herself while Jon retrieves his paddle and settles the water around them.

When they’re steady, she allows herself to sit back down, facing the side of the small boat this time, eyes downcast.

“There was no choice.”

She knows it’s supposed to be comforting, reassuring, but in reality Jon’s words do little to soothe the ache in her heart.

“I know.” She agrees, licks her lips and watches as he places one hand on his knee and one on her own.

It comforts her more than any words could, she discovers.

They’re rowing back, slow and sure and ice cold beneath the beginning of a snowstorm. If it gets any thicker, any worse, they will have nowhere to go, to travel.

They will either die or part ways. Sansa isn’t sure which is worse.

When they reach the dock, Jon only helps her get off o the boat with hands wrapped around her elbows. It’s then that she notices he had abandoned his cloak back in the cabin and his skin is freezing.

His nose is red, the contours of his eyes pink from the flushing weather.

She tugs on his wrist then, firmly wielding his sword in her other hand as they head off, Ghost once again at their feet.

“Sansa.”

Ignoring his call, she continues on in a hurry until her Granny’s house is in sight. She’s almost dragging him behind her, he with the tired bones and bloody face, he with the aching joints and freezing flesh.

She forces him past the threshold of the house once they arrive at the door, and his dry sword gets tossed aside on the floor by the fire.

She makes quick work of filling up the bathtub with steaming water she pours from the handle on the wall. Granny had a strangely heated well, she remembers.

Coming back over to him, Sansa shrugs off her cape and pulls on her braid to loosen her hair until it hangs free.

“Take your clothes off.”

She is the stronger one now. She is the one with the flaming skin and the dangerous eyes. He is little more but bruised muscles and ice cold skin.

When he refuses to act, or has no energy to do so from the change in climate and bodily temperature, Sansa stalks forward and grabs ahold of his jerkin.

He is cold and near sick.

She pulls on his clothes, on the strings and fastenings until his chest is bare and his lips are quivering.

He’s tried to ignore it, she finds. He has been ill for days and refused to mention it. His chest is covered in splotches of blue and yellow, old and new bruises staining his skin. He has a stab mark by his heart, and she silently ponders over the miracle of such a wound.

There are two fresh gashes down by his abdomen, in the shape of claw marks and blood is oozing from them, though it dries before it can spill onto the floor.

His stomach muscles clench when she touches him, warm fingertips tapping against chilly flesh. She pushes, prods at him until he grabs her wrist and stops her.

“Would you have ever told me you weren’t well?”

Jon only keeps his head ducked, but he lifts a brow in jest and attempts a smile.

“You said you’d take me home.”

“I’ll get you there.”

She stabs at his abdomen again, and his fist curls, burns around her wrist.

“You never would have told me.”

He shrugs, refuses to meet her eyes this time.

“You never would have told me,” she repeats. “You would have just gone home and died.”

She twists her hand in his grasp and bites her bottom lip at the stinging sensation when he refuses to let go.

“You would have gone home to your little cabin and died, and nobody would have even known you existed in the first place.” She twists her wrist again, “That’s what you wanted it, isn’t it?”

“Aye, that’s what I wanted.”

“Is that still what you want?”

“I want you to go home. I want to take you there, and leave you there.”

“Why?” She stabs at him again, with her free hand, and he doesn’t grab her this time. “Why are you so determined to rid yourself of me?”

“Because I don’t need you.”

Sansa nods, chews at the inside of her bottom lip, “That’s true. You don’t need me.” She confirms, finally twists her wrist out of his grasp and pushes his arm away. Wrapping her fingers around the strings of his breeches, Sansa tugs at the loose knot and roughly pulls on the laces until they hang free, “But you do want me.”

He doesn’t refuse her, doesn’t fight when she slips her hands down his backside and pushes his breeches and garments down his legs until he’s stood completely bare before her, stepping out of his socks and boots when she tells him to.

“You can’t deny that, at least.”

Sansa smiles, stands back and casually lets her eyes travel down his body. Her cheeks flush at the sight of his live member and she swallows a breath.

“Get in the water.”

Nodding her head over at the bathtub in the other room, she waits for him to depart before she heads over to the dying fire and adds logs onto the flames, relighting the source of heat.

When she catches sight of him again, he’s halfway into the tub, hands gripping the sides, muscled back curved as he lowers himself into the boiling water.

He groans when the heat meets his wounds, easing the blood from its new infection. “For fuck’s sake.” Jon mutters through gritted teeth and Sansa grins.

She stands in the doorway for a moment, allowing him a minute or so to settle down and get used to the sweltering heat.

When he sinks lower in the full tub, turning off the tap to stop the water flow, Sansa watches as he groans, eyes closing in some kind of pleasurable agony.

Scrunching up an old rag she finds on the table by the window, Sansa approaches the edge of the bath. She kneels down at first, taking her time to roll up her sleeves, before picking the cloth back up and dropping it down into the water.

Waiting for it to soak through, she stares down at Jon’s face, the way his lips gradually turn from a greying lavender to a pastel pink colour.

Clutching the cloth between her fingers, she rests her free hand on his back and pushes him up into a sitting position. Jon flinches at the sensation, having not realised her proximity, nor her intentions.

Sansa only nods to assure him that she won’t press too hard on his wounds, and when his body relaxes, she swipes the soaked towel down his front, circling the claw marks low on his abdomen.

His teeth shatter and grind together, she notices, and her touch softens just the slightest when she smoothes over the bloody scratches.

He’s bruised and worn and sore, but she knows this pain he feels is nothing new. He has lived, and suffered, and known anguish and loss. He knows what she’s feeling, she thinks; perhaps even more than he would ever let on.

Sansa pauses when he brings his arms to rest along the sides of the tub, fingers encircling the rim and dragging himself to sit up straight.

He groans at the ache again, and bites his tongue when she drags the cloth over his bruised chest, trying to avoid pushing too hard against his sternum.

Trailing the towel over his collarbone, she sweeps it up his neck, his throat engulfed by the cloth caught between her thumb and forefinger. She could strangle him if she wanted to. He would let her.

“You were right.”

His words catch her off-guard, and she stills when his hand on her side of the tub comes to toy with a long strand of hair at her front. He pulls it out from the gathering of her robe and twirls it around his finger.

“What was I right about?”

Everything, he wants to tell her.

You were right about my strange longing for death and all that that entails. You were right about me wanting you, and about me denying it. You were right to have feelings for me and wish for my own affections in return. You were right. You were right, and I’m no wolf. I’m but a man with a broken heart and a crippling fear of it being repaired.

“About this.” He tries a smile, again, and they’re turning in circles. They’ll never talk, not truly.

He nods down at the bathtub, where water swirls around him as he lifts his legs to bring his knees up to his chin.

His finger around her hair twirls and curls and pulls, and she leans closer despite his gentleness. He cups her cheek for a moment, but then his hand moves lower and curves down the side of her neck.

Her breath holds, her hand still firmly clutching at the towel against his chest, her other resting in her lap.

Sansa shifts onto her knees when he draws her closer, eyeing her lips and rosy cheeks. Her head ducks when his touch lingers over her chest, as though he’s in deep contemplation over something.

“It’s warm.” He tells her, and it takes her a moment to realise he is talking about the water’s temperature. “Won’t you join me?” His hand over her chest finally tugs at the ties of her dress then, roughly pulling on the loose strings until it hangs open at her breasts and Sansa gasps, dropping the cloth in her shock.

She doesn’t budge an inch when his bruised hand sweeps past the material of her robe and her shift and cups her breast firmly.

Her eyes only close and her breath catches anew when he does the same with the other side and yanks the top of her dress down to her upper arms, freeing the skin of her shoulders.

It’s uncomfortable and constricting - the heavy robes around her arms - so Sansa stands and pulls at the stomach of her dress until it pools at her waist. Her shift hangs loose and she pulls it out from beneath her robe, tossing it down onto the damp floor beside the bathtub.

“Like this?”

“Not quite.”

He shakes his head, finds some energy from somewhere and shifts onto his knees.

Perhaps it’s the adrenaline, or the desire, or the sheer lust. “Like this.” He tugs at the waist of her dress harshly, ignoring the lacings and watching as it tears beneath his hands, and falls at her feet.

“You ruined my dress.”

“You won’t be needing it anymore.”

“No?” She lifts a brow, tosses her red hair behind her ears and licks at her lips once his hands grasp her hips again.

Sansa removes his hands from her body briefly to prop her leg up on the rusty tub. She tugs at the laces, tries to ignore the way his hands glide up her calf and thigh. When her shoe is untied, she removes the boot and sock and follows suit with the other leg.

He drags her closer then, right beside the tub, his face almost buried between her clothed legs. He mumbles a ‘No’, allows gooseflesh to erupt all over her skin and pebble her nipples before he pulls on her small-clothes slowly, once her boot and sock are gone and she is spread open before him.

His calloused hands are smooth down her backside as he draws the material down, bending her leg back into a straight position. He drops the clothes when they reach her knees and grips her legs, thumbs on the inside of her thighs.

“Join me.”

“Ask me nicely.”

“Join me, won’t you?”

“Try again.”

He tightens his hold on her thighs, and Sansa smiles. “Get in the fucking water.”

She complies at that, willingly letting him smack one hand against her backside as she lowers herself down into the bathtub. She curves her hands over the edges, letting his own cover them, and falls back against his body with a slight moan.

“Warm?”

“Not enough.” The water is boiling, scolding hot even, and she is teasing him. “Perhaps friction will warm me up.”

“Friction?” He holds back a chuckle, she hears, and the noise is enchanting yet practically foreign to her. “Just what do you want me to do exactly?”

“Rub me.”

Jon shifts, chest smoothing against her back, “How so?”

She grabs his hands at that, placing his right over her right breast and his left down between her legs. She spreads them wide, as wide as the tub can allow, and leans her head back against his shoulder, face turned into his neck, lips nipping at his flesh.

There is still blood there, she observes with hazy eyes before allowing them to close when his fingers shift below the water, spreading her apart and parting her nervous flesh.

“Is this what you want?” His voice is husky against her ear, all northern gruff and dark. “You want me to rub you there?”

Sansa nods, the wet ends of her hair weighing her down. She feels herself sinking when he rubs circles against her centre, middle fingers desperately seeking out her crevices and thumb tracing her nub in repeated motions.

He brings it back and forth over her peach, and she’s reminded of her lips curled around that same finger earlier, sucking and licking at the skin.

Her eyes shut at the memory, lashes fluttering over her cheeks, and she cries out when he pinches her nipple between his fingers while stimulating the space between her legs.

“Gods.”

“Good?”

“Yes. The Gods are good.” She affirms with an excited nod, arching her back beneath the water’s brink. She scrapes against him, all tired limbs and aching muscles. “The Gods are very good.”

“Am I good?”

When he receives no immediate reply, Jon pinches her again, once on her nipple, once on her peach. It stings and she gasps. When he repeats the question, Sansa refuses to answer once again. Curiosity has eaten her alive.

No, you aren’t good. You helped me toss my dead grandmother into a freezing lake. No, you aren’t good. You won’t fuck me like I ask.

But if you’re bad, then I am, too. And if you’re twisted, then I am, too, and I wholeheartedly hope we never unwind.

“Am I bad then?” He voices, “Am I the big bad wolf?”

She nods, unwilling to submit to his questioning. He’s toying with her, she knows it. He won’t give her what she truly wants. He never will, so why should she encourage him to leave her wet and wanting?

“Am I the big bad wolf?”

He grits his teeth this time, and his voice is rougher. He sounds bad, as though he could tower over her scared frame and scare the wits right out of her. But he won’t, and she knows this. He won’t hurt her, not really.

She can only pay little mind to his words, anyhow, because his fingers are working furiously against her lips and she can feel herself clench and unclench to build up her own frustration. It’ll never end, this desire she feels, this need to be touched and held and played with by him.

It’s only when he has slipped two fingers inside her, and the ball of his hand is rubbing against her nub that she lets slip a cry. She tingles, and her legs want to straighten out as her climax builds, but the tub is cramped as she has to lift her backside to find release instead, toes curling as he traces his thumb is circles over her clit.

“Gods.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Jon points out, and her eyes flicker open to catch a look at him.

His hair is wet, disheveled and curly and black as a burnt down forest. Perhaps he is the big bad wolf, after all.

“You’re a wolf, and you’re big.” She smirks, closing her eyes again, wrapping one arm around his neck from behind her head.

Sansa pulls him to her, draws his face to rest in the crook of her neck. It’s close, closer than they’ve ever been, closer than she ever thought she could get him.

“How big?”

“Big enough that I’m not entirely sure I could handle what I’ve been begging for.”

“Have you been begging?” He stiffens a laugh and groans when she rubs her backside against his lap, parting her cheeks over his groin. “I don’t remember you getting down on your knees.”

“You would if you’d let me.” She reasons, sways her hips forwards and backwards, gripping at his neck with one arm, her other hand clasped tightly around the curve of the tub’s edge.

“You never asked.”

“Would you, then?” She bats her lashes, flickers her eyes open and stare at him. Her lips are dry. He hasn’t kissed her, hasn’t touched her lips with his own in hours, maybe hours. “Would you like me to get down on my knees and beg you to fuck me with that big cock, wolf?”

His face is tucked safely against her neck, his mouth pressing constant kisses against her throat as he continues to toy with her nipples, “Would I be bad if I refused?”

“Yes.” She confirms, “Because I’m desperately in need of being fucked.”

“And if I agree?”

“Then I’ll get down on my knees and take your cock in my mouth and let you do what you want to me.”

“I think perhaps you’re worse than I am.”

“Are you saying I’m the big bad wolf, now? I thought I was nothing but a meagre little lamb.”

“You’re a wolf, aye.” He grins; she feels the curl of his lips against her sensitive flesh. And he plucks at her clit again.

“And I’m big and bad then?” Sansa teases, releasing herself from his grasp and pulling herself up until she stands in the tub.

Her feet remain on either side of his thighs and she smoothes both hands down her sides, watching as his eyes shift from her dripping breasts to her damp and wet cunny.

“Don’t bad girls deserve to be punished?”

“That depends on how bad you’ve been?”

Sansa escapes from the bath then, hands gripping the rim to steady herself. She knows he will follow suit, so she makes her way out of the room, down toward where the fire blazes on.

“What if I ran away from home?”

“Why did you run away?” He’s behind her; she heard the splash of the water and she can feel his breath dancing along her neck.

“My parents wanted me to marry someone I didn’t want to marry. I ran away in the middle of the night, didn’t tell anyone I was leaving.”

“I’m sure your parents are worried.”

Sansa bats her lashes, feels the slightest of shivers run up her spine as she settles herself down before the fireplace, toying with the bottle in her hands she’d plucked from her basket on her way over. “Oh, and a witch gave me wine, or ale, or something terribly indecent for young ladies to drink.”

She pulls the still unopened flask up at her side, unscrews the cap before taking the smallest of swigs. It’s disgustingly strong, and it burns her throat.

She has to cough out a protest at the flavour, and Jon pries the bottle from her hands, eagerly and easily chugging down a sip or two before placing it aside.

“That’s rather bad of you.”

“That isn’t all.” She mockingly informs him a shake of her head, damp strands of hair clinging to her shoulders, “I met a man, on my travels. He’s handsome, and smart, and brave. But I fear he can be quite dangerous.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. He said he wanted to eat me. Or taste me. Or lick me. I’m not too sure which it was, if I’m honest.” She quips with a shrug, leaning back on her elbows against the furs spread out before the roaring fire. “I let him, though. I let him do all of those things. I quite enjoyed it.”

“Did your mother never tell you not to talk to strangers?”

“She told me, yes. But when they’re so rudely charming I can’t not let them lick my pussy dry, can I?”

“Is that what he did then? This man you met on your travels…”

He has followed her lead, had lowered himself down onto the furs she sinks into and he hovers above her with purpose. She has never felt so frightened yet excited.

Sansa nods, leans back when he leans forward, arms stretching over her until his palms lie flat against the sides of her head. “Yes. Well, I say he licked me dry.” She frowns, smoothes a hand down her stomach until she reaches between her legs. “I’m always so wet. Would you like to see?”

Raising a brow, she waits for Jon to shift his gaze down to her lap before she spreads her legs and pulls her folds aside to afford him the dampest of treats.

“Do you see? I just keep imagining his mouth being force-fed my pussy and his tongue just won’t stop fucking me. I think he liked it, you know? The taste of me on his lips? He could probably savour me for hours. It’s no wonder I keep wanting to shove his head between my legs and let him spread me in half with that tongue of his.”

“Gods.”

“Yes. The Gods are good.” Her cheeks are flushed. “But I’m rather bad, wouldn’t you say?” Her chest pants when he lingers nearer, if at all possible. She’s nervous, little more than a frightened young woman with a man between her legs and no knowledge as of what to do.

“Has he fucked you yet?”

“No. He won’t. He refuses me.” To hear the words is damaging, and she feels her heart crush at the truth. “I’m half convinced he doesn’t even want me.”

There are tears behind her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall, to let slip out and reveal her true self, her inner a d utmost identity.

I’m a girl who knows little of the world, but I happen to think I love you and I want nothing more than for you to love me in return.

She will settle for less, though. She will let him have her if only it means she can have him.

“How could a lonely man not want a beautiful girl like you?”

“Because I’m a little bit foolish and a little bit messed up. Because I pretend I’m somebody else just so one man will want me. Even if the person they want isn’t who I truly am.”

“Then who are you really?”

“A lonely beautiful girl who wants a lonely handsome man to love her because she is in love with him and her heart will surely break if he doesn’t want her in return.”

She can feel his hand at her side, on her hip, thumb rubbing circles into her bone. It’s calm and soothing and her eyes close. Her breathing doesn’t steady, though; it can’t, not now.

The one thing she has asked for will be refused one last time and she will crumble, be rendered a fraction of who she was.

“You can’t expect someone to return your feelings just because you love them. You’re sure to be disappointed.”

He is going to refuse her, and smirk it away. He is going to deny her his heart and she won’t even blame him.

The fault is all her own. She dove head first into a dangerous situation; this is the price she will pay.

At this realisation, Sansa goes to sit herself up to avoid any unwanted tears spilling past her closed eyes. She doesn’t want to cry in front of him, doesn’t want to see his face and his pity for her.

She doesn’t want pity, sympathy. She doesn’t want a pat on the back or an apology with a smile.

But she is naked and bare, and as vulnerable as her name day here beneath him. She is innocent, and his for the taking if he only chooses to be brutish.

When she sits up, he grips her waist and stops her, forcing her to lie back down on the furs. The thought alone of what he can, might do makes her anxious enough, but then his hands are on her thighs and she is holding her breath.

Perhaps she misjudged him. Perhaps she gave him too much credit, thought him to be kinder than he truly was.

“Let me go.”

“No.”

“Jon.” She can feel the tears pool at the corners of her eyes again, and this time she will let them drop. This is her last hope, her last resort at escaping with her heart intact. “Jon, please.”

She’s pleading, and crying, and he only lets her sit up before he’s pulling her into his chest.

Hand wrapped around the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair, this is exactly what she hadn’t wanted.

“Jon, let me go.”

His face is mushed up in her hair, voice melodiously husky at her ear. “How am I supposed to let you go when I’m in love with you?”

His fingers in her hair tilt her head back then, and she stares up at his face, all teary-eyed and flushed cheeks.

“You aren’t still playing the game, are you?” She whispers in a mumble, throat clogged and lips dry.

He can only shake his head, eyes lighter than she has ever seen them and lips curling into a sincere smile. “That would be terribly cruel of me, wouldn’t it?”

There is no snark, no teasing. He is honest and real and she is willing to let herself cry.

“Okay.”

“Aye.” He nods, confirms her realisation of their situation, their admissions. “Would you like me to make love to you now?”

Sansa feels her chest weight her down and she lies herself back down on the furs, moving her arms to rest beside her head, letting him intertwine his left hand with her right.

“You aren’t going to fuck me?”

She isn’t certain she knows the difference.

“No.” He frowns, glances down at her curious face. “One day, maybe. If you really want me to.”

“How is this any different?”

Jon grins, all teeth and crooked smile. He leans down then, pressing his lips against her own, feeling her mouth curve into a smile against his lips.

She moans out when he slips his hand from her waist to her left thigh and softly grasps her flesh, pulling her leg to the side.

She willingly spreads her legs, tilting her head backwards to catch a glimpse of the snow falling down outside through the window.

His grip on her hand tightens, and her nails dig into his knuckles when Jon centres himself at her entrance, “Do you want me to stop?” It’s a dangerous question, and Sansa doesn’t think she could ever deny him. She is lonely and lovely and curiously enamoured with him. She loves him, wants him, has his full adoration and love in return.

“No.” She shakes her head to confirm her statement, and her free hand clasps at his upper arm when he pushes into her, breaching her barrier with the sharpest of sensations.

The ache is haunting at first, but the pain dulls after a moment or two, and she steadily finds her pace with him. He waits, though. He waits for her to calm and settle and steady her breathing.

She is on the edge, on the brink of something quasi foreign to her, and he will take his time with her.

“Are you close?”

Before she can answer him, there is a terribly glorious shiver running up her spine, and she feel every fraction on an inch he moves within her. It's alarming, really, how alive she is in the moment, how awake he has made her within minutes.

Sansa winces when he hits a certain spot, and her nails mark his skin at the sensation. It isn't painful though, and she encourage him by wrapping her legs around his waist, heels pressing into the top of his backside. Unclasping their joined hands, she moves her own to his back, and scratches at the flesh of his lower back, press-pulling him forward with the palm of her hand, “Harder. Please.”

He won't deny her that, she knows, and Jon complies by thrusting himself deeper within her, bruising her hips in his grip. His fingers bend to mould against her curves and he kisses her again, harder this time. He will agree to each and every request she could possibly make. “Hard enough?”

She nods, unsure if her body could withstand anything more. He's buried deep inside her, and she can feel herself building a bridge to reach her end; her nerves on fire and her limbs numbing out.

She grips his backside when her cunny muscles tighten around him, hips curling and snapping to meet his own, her wetness clamped around his length, forcing him to spend his seed inside of her.

It's an odd feeling, the way warm liquid sticks between her legs when he withdraws and he wipes them clean with a nearby garment.

It's caring, she finds, and a smile graces her face when he pulls on her abandoned cape from over the back of a chair and draws it over them. It covers her more than it does him, and their legs roam free beneath the red cover. He is warm though, finally, and Sansa lets her eyes drift shut at the calm silence around them.

He buries his body behind her, arm flung over her waist and pulling her into his front. It's reassuring and she finds comfort in the swell of his body.

“Was that mating?” She turns her neck to face him, feeling his beard dance along her sensitive neck as he kisses her skin, lower and lower until he reaches her shoulder.

Jon only chuckles, grinning into the curve of her neck, mouth pressing behind her ear, sending an eruption of gooseflesh down her body, “That's something else, entirely, wolf.”

[ukulelewrites]

Scintilla

A/N: This monster of a fic is finally finished and i’m actually crying tears of joy rn bc this was such a long fic to write. plus it’s about my favorite underrated trainee from pd101, kim donghan @smols-n-tols bc they know how much pain i’ve been over this fic lmao

Pairing: PD101′s Kim Donghan x Reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff/Humor/Friends to Lovers!AU

Word Count: Roughly 11k (almost made it to 12k r i p)

Scintilla, noun: a barely visible trace

Your friendship with Donghan was based off of a mere competition of who could be the bigger shit. On Saturdays, it would usually be Donghan as he wastes the day sleeping in his bed while you pound on his door screaming at him to accompany you to the mall. On Tuesdays, it’d be you as you poke him incessantly in the back with your pencil, begging him to let you copy off of his worksheet. On Fridays, it’d be a constant competition between the two of you as you guys argued over the last carton of banana milk in your fridge, over the movie you’d be watching on obligatory “best friends movie day,” and over who had a higher chance of dating whichever actor or actress popped up on the screen. “Okay, listen, there is no way, in any sense of mind, will Keira Knightley choose to date you over dating me,” Donghan complained with a mouthful of popcorn one Friday night as the two of you sprawled yourself on the couch watching Begin Again for the sixth time upon your request. 

“I don’t know, Donghan, at least I have the decency to talk when my mouth isn’t full,” you shot back. 

He pouted at your words before quickly shooting back, “Okay. but my visuals are, like, ten times better than yours, so Keira would definitely choose me over you.” 

You stared at his face for a solid minute before replying, “I can’t argue about your visuals, but my personality is twenty times better than yours, so I think we all know who’d win at the end of the day,” and with a sense of finality, you returned your focus back onto the screen.

The two of you have finally reached the third movie of the night when Donghan’s phone buzzed. As his beloved, nosy best friend, you lunged forward to his side of the couch; he let out a puff of air the moment you landed on him. “Y/N, get off of me,” he huffed as his thumbs typed away furiously on his phone. 

You rested your arms on his chest and propped your head up, “Not until you tell me who you’re texting, Donghan.” He rolled onto his side, causing you to fall onto the floor. 

“I’m texting Kenta-hyung, Y/N, don’t worry about it,” he grumbled as he tried moving his phone away from your prying hands. However, you knew his weakness, so your fingers quickly found their way onto his stomach to tickle him. Donghan’s eyes widened in realization, but it was too late, you were definitely going to get the phone now. He squirmed under your attacks, pulling his phone closer to his chest, and turning his body away from you. However, he was no match to you once you climbed up on him, forcing him to stay in place. “Y/N, s-stop it!” he cried pathetically. 

You only shot him a sadistic smile as you continued the assault, “Only if you give me the phone, Donghannie. Maybe then I’ll stop.” Letting out a cry of defeat, Donghan thrusted his phone towards you, practically begging you to stop. You snatched the phone from him and patted his head, “Good boy!” you said as he glared up at you. You typed in his passcode, your birthday, and found yourself looking at a conversation between him and Umji, the girl who sat at the lab table behind yours and Donghan’s. Your fingers found themselves busy as you scrolled through the slightly suggestive texts communicated between the two of them; however, one text caught your eye, “You’re going on a date with Umji next Saturday?” 

Donghan only looked up at you boredly, “Yeah? And?” 

You hit him on the chest, ignoring the groan that left his lips, “You can’t!” 

He was irritated by now, “And why not? Also, as you’re answering this question, please, for the love of God, get off of me. My leg’s been asleep for the past three minutes.” 

You rolled your eyes at him as you climbed off of him, “Next Saturday is my birthday, dumbass. If you haven’t forgotten, it’s the passcode to your phone.” 

He sat up at your words, “Well, I’ll hang out with you at night! The date’s only supposed to be in the afternoon since we’re just going to the aquarium. C’mon, Y/N,” he grabbed the hem of your shirt, “you understand right? I might actually get with the girl I’ve been crushing on since the beginning of the school year.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, “How come you didn’t tell me about this crush? After all, I am your best friend; my mother has the pictures of us bathing together when we were 2 to prove it.” 

He chuckled at the scowl you were now wearing and placed his hands on your face, trying to force you into smiling, “Because my beloved best friend and bath companion from our fetus days, it’s a guy thing. Plus, don’t be too upset about the birthday thing, I’m pretty sure you’d forget mine too if all that was on your mind was a cute guy.” 

You scoffed at his words and removed his hands from your face, “Your birthday is July 3rd. I would know; it’s my passcode. And yeah, I’m sorry, crushes are strictly a ‘guy thing,’ something you definitely cannot share with your best friend from birth.”

You stomped into the kitchen, grumbling curses under your breath. “Y/N,” you heard him whine as he followed you, “I didn’t want to tell you because I thought you’d try to meddle again.” You halted your rummaging in the fridge to turn to him with a confused look on your face. Donghan only let out a sigh before speaking, “Remember sophomore year? You had ‘Operation Get Walnut-Head with Irene unnie’ which ended up having me vomit up cheap beer in her parents’ bathroom as she ended up flirting with you the whole night? Or how about ‘Operation Get Walnut-Head with Kyulkyung’ which ended up with me getting a concussion as she flirted with you on the ice rink before you two ended up dating for a good six months before she had to go back to China? Or what about-” You chucked a water bottle at his head before he could finish listing off all the other failed attempts of your wingmanning.

“Okay, okay, I’m a shitty wingman, but you could’ve just told me that, and I would’ve just let you be while being informed of your massive crush on Umji,” you leaned over the kitchen counter to pout at him before he smacked you on the face.

“I have been telling you that since 3rd grade when you thought the best way to help me confess to Dahyun was to hide a frog in her lunchbox,” Donghan deadpanned. 

You rubbed your face, “Ah yes, ‘Operation Get Walnut-Head with Dahyun Via Froggie McFrogsen’ is a classic.” 

He only rolled his eyes at you before he retreated back to the couch, “Y/N,” he called, “are your parents okay with me sleeping in the guest room?” You shouted back an affirmation before plopping yourself down on the couch next to him, ready for the next movie of the night.

It was Monday morning, and there was way too little caffeine in your bloodstream to function. “Y/N!” you turned around to see your friend, Jisoo, running up to you, “did you know Donghan and Umji are dating?” 

You shot her a questioning look, “Uh, they’re not dating; they’re going on a date. There’s a definite difference between the two. Plus of course I know they’re going on a date, I’m Donghan’s best friend since birth!” 

Jisoo grabbed your hand as it was reaching for your Biology textbook, “Y/N, they’re dating. As in, they’ve been together for almost six months now, and this Saturday is their anniversary; I pretty much had to sit through Umji’s speech on how beautiful Donghan’s facial structure is all day yesterday as we worked on that stupid literature project.” 

You slammed your locker with much more force than intended as you turned to Jisoo, “Well, yes, Donghan’s facial structure is quite exquisite. However, Donghan told me himself that they’re going on their first date Saturday to the aquarium, and that he’ll be at my birthday party at night. He also told me, his best friend, that he’s been crushing on Umji since forever, and this is his chance of getting with her, so, no, they’re not dating.” 

You started walking down the hallway at a fast pace as Jisoo trailed behind you, “Maybe he didn’t tell you they were dating? After all, we knows what happens to the girls Donghan dates,” you whirled around to face her, the accusatory tone of her statement rubbing you the wrong way. “Y/N, I love you, and you know that, but, you have a way of getting in the way of Donghan’s love life,” she quickly added more as your eyes narrowed at her, “It’s not purposefully, of course! You just end up scaring them off, that’s all.” 

You could only look at her confused, “Like how?” 

She halted her steps as she gave you a look, “Like how? Y/N, please, everyone can practically tell you’re in love with the guy. How would a girl feels if her boyfriend’s best friend who’s madly in love with him spends almost every waking moment with him? Intimidated, that’s how she would feel because she’s not the only girl that her boyfriend loves; she also has to deal with the other girl with a longer established history with him that’s trying to steal him away.” 

You let out a laugh after she finished talking, “Me? In love with Donghan? Wow, I didn’t know you had it in you to spout complete bullshit off the bat like that; I knew I was rubbing off on you!” you wiped away the tears from the corners of your eyes, “Anyways, I have to get to bio; see ya, Jisoo!”

“Donghan, let me tell you this wild story,” you said the moment you placed your books down onto the lab station. He looked up from his worksheet, expecting you to continue. “So Jisoo just told me that you’ve been dating Umji for like, six months now, and you never told me because I always end up ruining your relationships? Which makes no sense because I never even interact with your girlfriends? Anyways, she also has this weird theory that I’m madly in love with you and hellbent on ruining all of your relationships, so yeah, wild story numero uno of the day!” Donghan only looked up at you, apprehension riddling his expression. 

He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand before speaking, “Well, Y/N, it’s not like she’s 100% wrong.” 

You sat there in your seat for a minute trying to let the words sink in before jumping up out of your seat and sending him an accusatory finger, “I’m not in love with you!” 

He only facepalmed, “Not that part, idiot. The part where I’ve been dating Umji for six months now is true, but I only didn’t tell you because I knew you’d freak out, and Umji didn’t want anyone to know.” 

You rested a hand on his shoulder before taking it back, remembering Umji sitting behind you two, “You could’ve just told me. I wouldn’t have force you to be my lab partner if I knew.” 

Donghan only looked at you, doubting your words, “Okay, if you mean that, I’ll go sit with Umji right now.” 

You tried not to let your smile falter, “Okay, that’s fine. I’ve always been able to work by myself in bio.” 

He began moving his stuff to the table behind yours, “Also, I don’t think I can make it to your birthday party Saturday either. Umji wants to go to her family’s lake house for our six months anniversary and all that.” 

You tried not to apply too much pressure on your pencil, “Yeah, six months is a big deal, you can just make it up to me afterwards.” 

He hesitated before grabbing Sir Droopy, the origami crane the two of you made out of boredom one day in class, and also moving it to the table behind you, “Also if it’s okay with you, Umji wants us to dial down on the Friday movie nights. She’s not comfortable with the idea of me sleeping over at your house.” 

Your pencil snapped just as you got to the notes on RNA replication, “Yeah, it’s fine, I’m just peachy.”

“Why does Umji hate me so much?” you asked as you stabbed violently at your spaghetti, imagining Umji’s perfectly beautiful face in its place. 

“It’s because she, along with almost everyone else in the student body, believes you’re in love with Donghan. So by establishing boundaries, which in my opinion are perfectly fine since you spend way too much time with him anyways, she’s ensuring you won’t try to steal him away from her. Plus, everyone in the school wanted the two of you to end up together, so once word got around Umji and Donghan were going to her family’s lake house to ‘enjoy’ each other’s company, people were not happy,” Jisoo said, not even looking up once from her book. You could only grumble in agreement; it’s impossible to deny that you did spend a lot of time with Donghan since you share almost all the same classes, lived two houses down from each other, and always had a schedule of things to do on the weekend. 

“But did she have to take away movie night?” you sighed, now idly sipping away at your banana milk. 

At this point Rena joined your table, “So I hear Umji has finally come to her senses and established boundaries between Donghan and Y/N?” You glared at her. “What? It’d be good for you two to not be so dependent on each other. Plus, now that Donghan is off the market, all the boys are gonna come flocking to you!” 

You only shot her a pointed look before setting your milk down, “I understand where she’s coming from, I really do. But the fact that she, along with the entire student body, is assuming, I repeat, assuming, I have this giant crush on Donghan, is their own fault considering I don’t. Also, I’m not vindictive enough to do something like, I don’t know, steal someone else’s boyfriend away from them? The fact she thinks so poorly of me already makes me angry; everyone in this school knows I’m all for girls supporting girls. So in conclusion, this has nothing to do with my ‘so-called crush on Donghan’ and more so with Umji’s crippling lack of confidence and her obvious distrust in me. After all, she’s hated me since “Operation Go-Go Worm” in freshman year.” Rena and Jisoo snorted at the memory of the time you snuck worms into the food of the student council protesting their destruction of a section of the school’s forest for another tennis court. “But contrary to popular belief, I’m not going to hate her because that’s what everyone is expecting. I’ll take this in stride and agree to her boundaries, even if she did steal my best friend away from me for my birthday and Friday movie nights. After all, it’s also what Donghan wants, and who am I to deny my best friend’s wishes?”

It was hell trying to distance yourself from Donghan, but hell, you applauded the effort you put into “Operation Distance From Walnut-Head.” Throughout the week, you didn’t even talk to Donghan in class; you had let her surround him in her talks about tennis and volunteering at animal shelters as you took detailed notes on bee reproduction. On Friday, you dealt with watching movies by yourself and observing through Donghan’s Snapchat story his date with her at the cafe, even telling him you thought the two of them looked cute. And when Saturday came, you didn’t even text him or call him, leaving your phone on silent in your room as you, Rena, and Jisoo set up the bar for your birthday. 

“So, he’s not coming at all?” Rena asked as she dragged the cooler of ice into the kitchen. 

You were pouring chips, notably Donghan’s favorite, into a bowl, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s on his way to the lake house at this point? I don’t know; I haven’t really checked what he’s been up to for the past day.” 

Jisoo looked at you concerned, “Not even a ‘Happy Birthday, Best Friend’ text?” 

You had moved on to pouring the pretzels into a bowl, “I didn’t see anything at midnight, but that’s probably because he went to bed early, so he wouldn’t be tired today. I’m pretty sure he sent one.” Your two friends stared at you worriedly before resuming their work. You slipped away upstairs to check your phone and saw you had one message from Donghan. You unlocked your phone to see a lonesome “hbd” from him. “It’s okay, he’s probably busy. I’m not going to freak out, because if I do, I’ll just make things worse, and we don’t want that, right, Y/N?” You threw your phone back onto your bed, and ran back downstairs once you heard the doorbell ring.

“Kenta oppa! Sanggyun oppa! Hyunbin oppa! You guys came!” you said before running to envelop each of them in a hug. 

Hyunbin ruffled your hair, “You’re turning 18, a certified legal adult now. It seemed like just yesterday you were chasing butterflies and hiding frogs in innocent children’s lunchboxes.” You laughed at his nostalgic tone. 

“Where’s Donghan? I thought he’d be here for your big adulthood initiation,” Kenta said as he walked with you into the kitchen. 

“Huh, oh he’s out celebrating his six months anniversary with his girlfriend. I gave him my blessing to skip.” 

Sanggyun raised an eyebrow at you, “Is he not coming later? It’s not like him to skip his best friend’s birthday.” 

You threw on the biggest smile you could before turning to them, “Donghan is currently having sex with his girlfriend at her family’s lake house and since he’s madly in love with her, and I’m trying to prove to everyone that I’m not madly in love with him, which I’m not, I have decided to let him enjoy his little sexcapade because at the end of the day, who cares about their best friend when they have a perfect girlfriend. Anyone want a drink?” No one said anything, watching you warily. You poured yourself a cup of whatever and went to go get the door. 

“Noona, happy birthday!” Seonho yelled as you opened the door. Guanlin, Jinyoung, Xiyeon, and Kyla trailed in behind him; all of them giving you a hug and wishing you a happy birthday. You directed them towards the drinks and scolded them lightly about not drinking too much before waving them off and welcoming the rest of your guests.

You had retreated to your room for a minute to look at your phone again. However, in the past two hours, you had not received another message from Donghan. “He’s just busy…having sex…for two hours. I’m going to be a super chill best friend and try not to freak out about it. After all it’s only been a week of not seeing him, I’ll live, and I’ll see him at school Monday, and he still owes me a present for my birthday…” Your thoughts trailed off as you laid there on your bed with your arm over your eyes. However, the sudden opening of your door caused you to sit up straight; you saw Kenta standing there in your doorway, and you motioned for him to come in and close the door behind him. 

He sat on the floor in front of you, “Bummed about Donghan not being here?” 

You scoffed at his statement, putting on a mask of nonchalance, “Donghan? Not at all, he’s allowed to hang out with his girlfriend whenever he wants; it’s not like I have any say in his relationships.”

 Kenta just laughed, “Y/N, trust me, it’s okay for you to feel the way you do, okay?” 

You looked at him, “What do you mean?”

He rested his arms on his knees before placing his head onto his palm, “Well, you’ve been a major part of Donghan’s life since forever, so suddenly being forced out of it, whether that be on your part or his, is jarring. And honestly, if you’re his best friend, he’d understand if you weren’t happy with what’s going on right now.” 

You hummed, going over what he just said, “I’d agree with that, but I’m the one who’s been distancing themselves, so I don’t really have a right to be upset with him if the whole cutting out part was because of me, ya know?”

Kenta frowned at your response, “Well, why did you try distancing yourself from him anyways? It’s definitely not because you thought it’d be a fun thing to do.” 

You laid back down onto the bed, “I did it because I didn’t want another one of his relationships to end because of me. Especially not this one since he seems to like her so much. I’d rather Donghan be happy than for me to see him everyday.” 

Kenta had moved to your chair by now, “But he dated her for six months without anyone knowing, and you guys being perfectly normal. Why is it now she chooses to make their relationship public along with enforcing boundaries between you and Donghan. And why is Donghan okay with it?” You laid there in silence for a bit, trying to piece back the last six months, finding an answer to his questions. 

“Well,” you started, “Donghan really likes her, and he’s always said I’m the clingy one in the friendship, so I guess he’s more okay with not seeing me than me not seeing him. And, the reason why she made it public now is because,” you tried to think of that weekend, the weekend before it went public. Suddenly you sat up on your bed, “The Friday before they went public he slept at my house when my parents weren’t there. Oh my god, she probably thought we slept together or something. You ran your fingers through your hair, “Kenta oppa, can you try asking Donghan if he mentioned any of that to Umji?” 

He nodded from your chair, “Yeah, only if you return back to the party; we’re bringing the cake out in ten minutes.”

Sunday afternoon you got a one-worded text from Kenta, “yes.” You clambered up Donghan’s stairs later that day. When you reached his bedroom door, you started pounding on it until it opened, revealing your shirtless best friend. “Tell her we didn’t sleep together,” you said as you stepped into his room.

“Excuse you, what?” he asked, trying to find a clean shirt to wear. 

“Umji, tell her we didn’t sleep together because that has to be the reason why she hates me and wants us to restrict our friendship time. She thought we slept together that Friday night you slept over when my parents weren’t home!” You looked at him, trying to gauge his reaction; however, there was nothing. 

Donghan exhaled, “Y/N, please just go home. I have a date today.” 

You looked at him in confusion, “What, why?” 

Donghan had already opened the door for you, “Because not everything is about you! Umji doesn’t hate you, unlike whatever vindictive version of her that twisted brain of you made up. And for your information, the reason why she decided to go public is because she finally wanted to take things seriously, something I’ve been wanting since the fifth date. So no, not everything has to revolve around you or include you, Y/N. See you in school tomorrow.” 

Before he could finally get you out the door you blurted out, “What about my birthday? You still owe me!” 

He only looked at you before his gaze softened, chuckling to himself, “I’ll bring it to school tomorrow, brat. Don’t worry, I’m not that bad of a best friend.”

You sat in the corner booth of the pizza parlor with Rena and Jisoo, devouring your fifth slice. “‘Not everything revolves around you, Y/N.’ ‘hbd.’ ‘I’m not that bad of a best friend.’ For fuck’s sakes, Donghan, you are! I can’t believe he changed so quickly after one week! This was the guy who’d go skydiving with me, okay? Now he won’t even let me stand in his room for more than five minutes? Honestly, what the fuck? I just, can’t deal with whatever puberty shit he’s going through right now.” 

Rena looked at you sympathetically, “Well, maybe the birthday present tomorrow will make up for it? After all, he always gets you something you really want!” Jisoo nodded along to Rena’s statement. 

“Well if I’m basing it off of ‘hbd’ I highly doubt it. Plus he’s been so busy with Umji, I wouldn’t be surprised if he gave me something average this year. But it’s okay because I’m a good best friend that doesn’t complain.” You went for another piece. 

“I don’t know, Y/N, the guy’s still your best friend, I’m pretty sure he’ll get you something cool.”

“I was busy all last week, so Umji helped me pick something out for you yesterday. There, I made it up to you okay, Y/N? Happy belated birthday,” Donghan said to you in Biology, dropping a bag on your table. 

You smiled at him warmly, “Thanks, Donghan, all is forgiven.” His shoulders relaxed, and he went to sit next to Umji. You ended up pulling out an assortment of gift cards, all to your favorite places; you tried not to let the disappointment show on your face as you turned around to the couple. “Thanks Umji for picking these out!” you said. 

She shot you a dazzling smile and said sweetly, “Don’t worry, Y/N, Donghan told me you were running low on cash, so I hope that’s enough to last you a month.” You turned back to face the front of the class, focusing on the reproductive cycle of viruses.

Friday, this time, no movie night; Donghan texted you back after fifty billion years to inform you he had another date with Umji, a recurring theme between you two for the past week. This time, you went over to Donghan’s house and hung out with his mom.

“Y/N can you chop up the onions for me?” You instantly grabbed a cutting board and knife, smiling at the memories of cooking with his mom to destress. “How are your parents?” she asked as she washed the vegetables. 

“They’re fine, just another business trip in Japan for a couple of weeks. They’ll be home by tomorrow” She nodded at your answer before humming a tune for the two of you to work to. 

Soon enough she asked you, “Why aren’t you with Donghan? Shouldn’t the two of you be watching movies right now at your house?” 

You paused your chopping, willing yourself not to cry, “Ah, he’s on a date with his girlfriend, so I thought since I haven’t visited for awhile I should come over and help you cook dinner.” Then you heard the door open and close; Donghan’s brother came home from work. “Oppa, I haven’t seen you in so long!” you placed down the knife as you ran up to give him a hug. 

He ruffled your hair, “So how’s my sister-in-law been?” 

You scowled at his question, “Don’t make those kind of jokes. Donghan has a serious girlfriend now.” 

He let out a small laugh, “That Umji girl? He still hasn’t brought her around to meet the family. Plus, I bet she doesn’t cook as well as you do. That’s an instant -1000 points.” 

Donghan’s mom laughed at the comment, “Go shower, dinner will be ready soon.” And, even though you think you imagined it, Donghan’s mom winked at you.

Donghan’s dad came home shortly before dinner began, giving you a hug as you set the table. “Thank you for the meal!” You said before digging in. Donghan’s mom kept piling more food onto your plate as his brother entertained you with stories from work. 

Halfway through dinner, Donghan came home. “Uh, Y/N, what are you doing here?” he asked, eyeing you suspiciously. 

His mom spoke up before you could, “I’ve invited her over for dinner.” This conversation felt foreign; you never had to defend why you were at his house before. 

“Uh, I finished eating. I’ll wash my dishes and head home,” you said quietly, getting up from your seat.

His brother piped up this time, “Nonsense, you can hang around. I still have another story to tell you.” 

You politely smiled, “No, it’s fine. I still have some laundry to do.” 

Then his dad spoke, “Well, it’s dark out. Donghan, walk Y/N home.” 

You were scurrying into the kitchen at this point, “I only live two houses down it’s really oka-” You heard Donghan agree, and a small sense of relief filled your stomach; at least you knew he still cared a little bit. After you’ve washed your bowl and said goodbye to everyone, you embarked home with Donghan.

“I’m sorry,” you said as the two of you stood on your porch. He looked taken aback. “I shouldn’t have just went to your house without your permission,” however, you knew you had more to say, “ even if that would’ve been okay before. I’m also sorry for giving away the gift cards you gave me for my birthday because they were such shitty gifts. And I’m the most sorry for myself for actually wanting to still be your best friend because you so obviously don’t. I hope you enjoy your relationship with Umji, but I hope you know; I wish to have no part in it.” All of this was said with a smile as you turned to enter your house. 

However, Donghan grabbed your arm and turned you back around, “Y/N, you’re not jealous of me and Umji, right?” 

Your eyes turned steely, and you cooling shook his hand off, “No, I’m just done with your bullshit, so good night Donghan. See you in school Monday.”

Donghan sat in the corner booth of the pizza parlor with Kenta and Sanggyun, devouring his fifth slice. “‘And I’m the most sorry for myself for actually wanting to still be your best friend because you so obviously don’t. I hope you enjoy your relationship with Umji, but I hope you know; I wish to have no part in it.’ Can you believe her? What kind of entitled brat says that?” Kenta was scrolling through his phone, and Sanggyun was distracted by the waitress that came by their table every so often. “Are you guys even listening to me?” he asked, glaring at his two friends. 

Kenta looked up from his phone, “Yeah we are, but we’re choosing not to acknowledge it.” Sanggyun nodded along with him. 

Donghan crossed his arms over his chest, “And why not?” 

Sanggyun sighed, “Dude, we love you, but you’re honestly being an asshole right now.” 

Donghan scoffed, “How?” 

Kenta raised an eyebrow, “Well, let’s go all the way back to when you skipped Y/N’s 18th birthday and sent her a ‘hbd’ text instead of the usual extra text you always send her at midnight, and not,” Kenta looked down at his phone, “2:34pm. And then you proceed to give her gift cards for her birthday, that you skipped, which is equally as fucked up,” Sanggyun nodded to that, “And then you pretty much kick her out of your room without letting her finish talking to you, while accusing her of being self-centered. What else did he do?” 

Kenta turned to Sanggyun and the latter took up the challenge of finishing the list, “You also pretty much stopped talking to her at school and even stopped hanging out with her. Also, you,” Sanggyun took Kenta’s phone to look at the screen, “made her feel unwelcome in your home. And that’s where it ends.” 

Donghan could only look at his friend in mild amusement, “You guys made a list?”

Kenta frowned, “No, Y/N texting me all day today about how much she hates you now, and it just so happened she covered every single wrong you committed.”

Donghan defended himself, “Well, she knows I have a serious girlfriend, so she maybe needs to stop being so clingy and dependent on me. She has other friends, ya know! And she was okay with me skipping on her birthday and the hangout days. Plus, there’s nothing wrong with gift cards! They’re a reasonable gift.”

“You got me a one-of-a-kind teddy bear for my 15th birthday, a signed copy of my favorite book for my 16th, and concert tickets to my favorite band for my 17th; I’m sorry if I didn’t enjoy your reasonable gift.” Donghan whipped his head around to see you there, tears brimming in your eyes. You took another step towards him, “And wow, I didn’t know how much of a pain in the ass it was for you to hang out with me. I’m so sorry for filling your past 18 years with nothing but my annoying presence, and yeah, you’re right, I do have other friends, but you’re my best friend, okay? And I thought that actually meant something, but no, once again I was wrong. So yeah, it’s good to know you feel that way.” You grabbed your pizza box and stormed out of the parlor. 

Donghan turned back to face his friends, “Did you guys just set me up?” The two of them shook their heads. 

Kenta spoke up, “Nope, Y/N probably just really wanted pizza.” Donghan slammed his head back into the seat. He royally screwed up.

“Y/N!” Donghan called as he continued banging on your front door, panting from exertion after running here from the parlor “Y/N!” Suddenly your door swung open to reveal your mom, still in her business attire. “Oh, uh, hi Mrs. L/N, is Y/N home?” 

She looked at him confused, “Y/N? I haven’t seen her since I’ve gotten back from the airport. She’s probably at Rena’s or Jisoo’s house.” 

Donghan straightened up at the word airport, “Did you just get back from somewhere, Mrs. L/N?” 

Your mom looked at him curiously, “Y/N didn’t tell you? My husband and I have been in Japan for the past month, and based off of the trash, Y/N been living off of takeout,” she laughed at that comment, “However, I’m grateful that your mom let her eat something other than pizza and Chinese last night.” 

Donghan scratched at the back of his neck, “Oh, n-no problem.” 

Your mom beamed, “Thank her for me! Tell her we’ll be over for dinner soon.” He nodded, and she shut the door as he was walking down the front steps.

You found Donghan sitting at your table in Biology and Umji glaring at you as you walked in. You hesitantly sat down next to him, but quickly buried your focus into note taking. “Psst, Y/N,” Donghan whispered as he poked your arm with a pencil, “psst.” 

You turned to glared at him, “What do you want?” you hissed. He slipped you a piece of paper. You opened it to see “I’m sorry” written on it in his usual chicken scratch. You scrawled something on it and slip it back to him. “Go away,” you wrote, trying to be as blunt as you can. He wrote back, “I will if you forgive me.” You tilted your head before putting down, “Never.” Then the bell rang, allowing you a quick escape.

You briskly walked to your locker, put in the combination, and as you opened it, a balloon flew out. You grasped the card that hung from the end of the balloon and read it to yourself, “Sorry for being an asshat, let me explain everything to you over dinner at the pizza place you like at 7. If you don’t show up, I’m climbing through your window tonight. Don’t try to lock it, I still remember the trick to get it open. Your Best Friend, Donghan.” 

Suddenly Rena and Jisoo popped up behind you, “Is that from Donghan?” they asked as Rena plucked the note from your hand, reading it over before passing it to Jisoo. 

Before they could say anything else, Seonho approached you, “Y/N, Donghan told me to give these to you,” he handed you a bouquet of forget-me-nots. 

“Uh, thanks, Seonho,” you said, practically hearing your friends squeal in excitement behind you. You turned around to face them after Seonho walked away, “What are you two so happy about?” 

Rena grinned ear to ear, “Because a friendship is repairing itself!” Jisoo just went to go swing her arm around your shoulder, “Because you can stop moping in your house everyday now and revert back to the happy Y/N we all know and love.”

It was 6:58, and you anxiously waited in the back corner booth of the pizza parlor, tugging at the end of your hoodie. “Maybe he just wants to tell me to get out of his life entirely. Oh my god, what if he’s gonna tell me him and Umji are getting married and having adorable little children, and I won’t get to be a part of their lives. Oh, what if-” your thoughts got cut off by the sudden presence of a shadow over you. You looked up to see Donghan.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly before sitting across from you. You waved to him before focusing your gaze onto the napkin dispenser. “Well, I guess I should start off with an apology, so I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, pleading you with his eyes to look at him. You focused your gaze onto your straw next as you swirled it around your cup of lemonade. He folded his hand together and placed them on the table, “Okay, Y/N, I’ve been an asshole for the past two weeks, and it’s not excusable how rude I’ve been. It’s just, Umji’s so amazingly perfect, and I really didn’t want to ruin it with her. And she’s always been a bit skeptical of our relationship, so I had to show her we were just friends.” 

You flickered your eyes to look at him once before speaking, “And that excuses your asshole-ness, how?” 

You noticed the sigh of relief he exhaled when he realized you at least looked at him once, “It doesn’t, and honestly, I went to the extremes to ensure we kept things as just friends. Honestly, it was hard for me too not hanging out with you everyday; I can only handle so much talk about tennis before my eyes cross,” his eyes crinkled when he noticed you trying to suppress a giggle, “I missed us debating which of us had a higher chance of dating an actor, even though the answer is always me. I missed you being a little shit and making me watch those weird musical movies every single movie night. I missed us fighting over who could eat the most slices of pizza even though you always win every single time. I just missed hanging out with you. I missed my best friend.” 

You looked at him now, keeping your gaze on him this time, “Then why did you ignore me? Why did you go so far out of your way to avoid me? Like, I know I tried giving you some space like you wanted the first week, but you pretty much alienated me last week.” 

Donghan let out a sigh and ruffled his hair before speaking, “It sounds stupid, but like, I knew if I saw you, I would’ve dropped plans with Umji.” You tilted your head, confused at his statement. “Honestly, the day you barged into my room demanding I tell Umji we didn’t sleep together, I was ready to cancel all my plans with her the moment you whined at me. But I couldn’t do that because I’ve cancelled so many dates before just so I could have movie night with you, just so we can catch that new animated film you wanted to go see, just so I can go shopping with you and tell you how cute you look in oversized clothes. So I willed myself not to talk to you or text you because I know the moment you call my name, or smile at me, or even cry, I’d come running.” 

Your eyes teared up at his words, and in a small voice, you asked, “Really?” 

He let out a relieved chuckle, “The day you ran out of the parlor crying because of me, I went to your house right afterwards to talk, but you weren’t home then.” You tugged at the sleeves of your hoodie this time, covering your hands with the sleeves. Donghan cracked a smile, “Isn’t that my hoodie?” 

You looked down and realized that the hoodie was quite big on you, “Um, yeah, I should probably give it back soon.” 

He shook his head, “Don’t worry about it, when did I ever restrict you from borrowing my clothes before?” 

You pondered over his question, “Well, never really, but won’t Umji be-” 

He cut you off, “I talked to Umji, and I pretty much told her you’re gonna be my best friend no matter what, so if she really did like me, she’ll understand that we’re just best friends.” You smiled at his comment, and he beamed back at you. The waitress came back with your pizza, you came here so often they knew your order by heart, and as you grabbed a slice, Donghan spoke up, “Also, in the final act of ‘Operation Make Y/N Forgive Walnut-Head,’ you are cordially invited to a birthday party for yourself this Friday night at Hyunbin’s house to make up for the shitty gift cards I gave you when I was trying to prove to Umji we were just friends.” 

You giggled at his statement, “Okay, Walnut-Head, you’re forgiven. Especially since Hyunbin’s house has a full bar.”

Friday came quickly, and you stood in front of your closet, trying to pick something to wear as Jisoo and Rena lounged on your bed, scrolling through their phones. Rena looked up to see you pouting at her, so she got off of your bed and assisted you in searching for an outfit. “What about this black skirt with this top?” she asked, modelling the outfit for you. 

“The black skirt’s too short,” you replied, proceeding to dig through your drawers now for something. 

Then Jisoo spoke up from the bed, “Wear the white dress with the denim jacket over it paired with your red Converse.”

The three of you wove through the crowded room as the bass reverberated through your bones. Soon Rena and Jisoo abandoned you to find the alcohol, and you found yourself looking for Donghan. “Have you seen Donghan?” you yelled over the music to Sanggyun who was currently in the middle of flirting. He pointed over to the basement door before waving you off. You let him flirt in peace and went down the stairs to the basement.

It was significantly quieter in the basement than it was upstairs. You found Donghan sipping on his drink as Umji sat on his lap. She saw you first and waved you over; her eyes sparkling as she wished you a late happy birthday. You mumbled a thanks before finding a seat on the floor between Seonho and Kenta; the latter handing you a water bottle. You nodded your head in thanks as you looked up to watch Umji whisper into Donghan’s ear. You took a sip of your water and rested your head against Kenta’s shoulder. The moment you laid your head down; Donghan sat up straight, “Let’s play a game, everyone!” 

As he said those words, Jisoo and Rena came down the stairs, “What about truth or dare? Every time you skip, you drink!,” Rena said as she stumbled down the steps before plopping herself onto the carpet. 

Jisoo sat down next to her; a wicked glint flickered across her eyes, “How about the birthday girl go first?” Donghan shot a glare at Jisoo, but she brushed it off. 

Rena leaned forward, “Truth or dare, Y/N?” 

You tapped your finger against your chin, pretending to be deep in thought, “Dare.” The circle oohed at your choice. 

“I dare you to kiss Seonho,” Jisoo said; her lips forming a smirk as she snuck a peek towards Donghan’s direction.

“My child? You’re daring me to kiss my child?” you asked, feigning horror as you turned to face Seonho, cupping his cheek, and pulling his face forward so you could meet his lips with yours. Everyone cheered the moment your lips made impact, and you flashed the crowd a smile after you pulled your lips away. Donghan chugged the rest of his cup and chucked it away, grabbing a beer from someone’s outstretched hand in the process. He then chugged all of that too and accepted another one. 

“Donghan,” he looked up from his bottle to see Jisoo smiling at him, “truth or dare?” 

He only looked at her blankly, “Truth.”

The glint returned to her eyes, “Do you love Y/N?” 

He smiled at her question, “Of course, she’s my best friend.” You shot him a heart from your seat, and he felt his smile grow. The room groaned at his answer, obviously expecting more. 

This time, Kenta called his name, “Donghan, truth or dare?” 

Donghan looked at his friend in confusion; Kenta barely initiated in these kind of games. “Dare,” Donghan said, looking Kenta in the eye. 

“I dare you to switch seats with me,” Kenta calmly spoke, already standing up. Donghan was perplexed at the simple dare, but complied, leaving Umji’s side to sit next to you. This time the room was silent, watching the small game of Truth or Dare unfold. 

You spoke up this time, “Umji, truth or dare?” 

She looked shocked when you called her name, “Truth, I guess?” 

Your grip tightened around your bottle, “Where do you buy your highlighter because it’s blinding right now.” The tension in the room dissipated at your question, and Donghan couldn’t help but laugh.

The game continued on, and Donghan found himself drinking more and more, trying to evade dares that would get him naked or arrested. At one point he found himself resting his head against your shoulder as the room spun around him. You nudged him off at first, but he resisted; your shoulders were a nice place to rest. “Donghan, get off of me! Umji’s glaring at you right now,” you hissed. He only nudged his head against your shoulder, and he found his hand wandering until they found your hand, interlocking your fingers together. You looked down in shock; he hasn’t held your hand since his relationship went public. You tried shaking him off, but he wouldn’t budge. You looked up to see Umji gone from her seat. Jisoo pointed towards the stairs. “Okay, Donghan, if you get off of me for just one minute, I’ll pay for our pizza days for the next month.” His head perked up at that, and he sleepily got off of you. You rushed up the stairs and bumped through the mass of people to the restroom, the place all sad party-goers go to cry.

You knocked on the door, “Umji? Umji? It’s me, Y/N.” The door flew open to reveal a mascara-streaked Umji.

“What do you want?” she shot at you. You entered the restroom, closing the door behind you. 

“Whatever happened back there was just because we’re friends, okay? Donghan’s a clingy drunk, and I just happened to be the one sitting next to him.” 

She looked at you, unconvinced, “Really now? Because he’s never done that with me.” 

You hopped up onto the counter, “I know what you’re implying, but Donghan usually doesn’t get drunk. Trust me, last time he was this bad, he wouldn’t leave Kenta alone for the entire night.” 

She sat down on the toilet, “Honestly Y/N, are you oblivious or something?” You looked down at her and tilted your head. She rested her head on her palms, “Like, I don’t know how you haven’t noticed it, but I think Donghan’s in love with you.” 

You awkwardly laughed at that statement, “Umji, he’s your boyfriend. Why would he be in love with me?” You rubbed at the back of your neck, trying to avoid her gaze. 

“When we went to the lake house, he noticed I had a copy of Begin Again, and he wouldn’t stop talking about how that’s one of your favorite movies. He even proceeded to list all of your favorite songs from the movie along with all the scenes you cried at because I quote ‘she’s like a little kitten when she cries, kinda pathetic, but it’s cute.’ When we went out to buy your birthday present, and I suggested gift cards; he proceeded to list off every single one of your favorite stores, plus what you buy from each of them. When he took me to that pizza parlor, the waitress immediately placed a pizza at our table because that’s yours and his regular order. And the one time he asked me to text you a quick happy birthday message to you for him, he told me that his phone password was your birthday.” You focused your gaze on the shower curtains behind her.

“He probably never got around to changing it,” you offered weakly. 

She let out a laugh, “I’ve been dating him for six months, and he’s never gotten around to changing his phone password? Yeah right. Don’t take the fall for this or anything, but I can’t take it anymore. I’m breaking up with him.” 

Your eyes widened at her words, and you jumped off the counter, blocking the door with your body, “You can’t! Donghan loves you!” 

She rolled her eyes before pushing you to the side, “I don’t know how much longer the two of you are gonna delude yourselves for, but trust me, Y/N, whatever Donghan feels for me, it’s not love.” She left the restroom, and your eyes trailed after her as she left the party.

Donghan slept peacefully in your passenger seat as you parked your car in your driveway. You poked his face, “Donghan, Donghan, Walnut-Head,” he woke up at that one, “get out of my car so I can let you sleep in an actual bed and not a faux leather seat.” He groaned but complied, unbuckling himself and stumbling out of the car. You helped him walk up the steps to your porch. 

“Your hair smells nice, Y/N,” Donghan said sleepily as you guided him to the guest bedroom. You held back a smile at his drunken compliment, and dropped him onto the bed. 

“Okay, I’ll be back with some water and an aspirin, don’t die while I’m gone.” He sat up and lazily saluted you before flopping back onto the bed. You returned with the medicine and placed it on the bedside table, “Okay, good night Donghan, I’m going to sleep now.” You tried shuffling out of the room, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you on top of him. You couldn’t hide the shock written across your face as you looked down at his face, illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight. You laid there on top of him frozen as you felt his arm wrap around your waist and his other hand making its way slowly up your back. You shivered slightly as he made contact with your neck. 

His hand found purchase in your hair, stroking it, and murmuring, “You have soft hair, Y/N.” You smiled softly at him and instinctively started stroking his hair too. He leaned into your touch and spoke again, “You have soft, nice smelling hair and a really pretty smile, Y/N. You’re like an angel.” You blushed at his words, trying to find something else to look at instead of his face. But Donghan had other plans; his hand stayed nestled in your hair, and he started to lean up. Before your mind could decipher what was happening, his lips were on yours. Your first instinct was to push yourself away; however, a small voice in the back of your head kept you rooted there, on top of Donghan, kissing him. You don’t know how much time the two of you spent there kissing, it could’ve been ten seconds or ten minutes, but eventually Donghan pulled his head back to lay back down onto the bed. A slow smile crept its way across his face as his eyes closed, and he drifted to sleep.

“Wait, can you repeat what you just said again? It’s too early in the morning for you to be talking that fast,” Jisoo yawned over the phone. 

You inhaled sharply before repeating, “Well, Donghan kissed me last night while he was intoxicated, but I didn’t really pull away because his lips were really, really soft, and honestly, the kiss was just really nice? And yeah, so he kissed me last night, and I don’t know what to do now because he’s going to wake up in,” you looked at your clock, “approximately 7 minutes. Jisoo, help me please.” 

You could practically hear her facepalm over the phone, “Okay, Y/N, calm down. Maybe just ask him if he remembers anything from last night? The guy was drunk.” 

You ran your hand through your hair, “But what if he says yes?” 

Jisoo sighed softly over the phone, “Then you talk it out with him. The two of you have been best friends forever, and honestly, if the guy kissed you, then it means something right? You guys are gonna have to talk about what happens now. If you guys are gonna start dating or maybe just stay friends, ya know.” 

Uncertainty filled your voice when you replied, “Dating? Me and Donghan?” 

Jisoo chuckled, “C’mon, Y/N, just think about it. Anyways, I have work in an hour, so I gotta go.” You softly said goodbye and hung up the phone. The room filled with silence as you stood there, thinking of the possibility of dating Donghan. There’s no way you could possibly date him! He’s a slob, always shows up late to plans due to his indecisiveness over what to wear or how to style his hair, and he never listened to you unless you whined and pouted your way into his view. However, you couldn’t shake of the warm feeling that bubbled in the pit of your stomach when you imagined going on dates with Donghan, holding his hand, maybe even giving him kisses when he starts pouting… You shook your head, trying to move all thoughts of Donghan back into the little friend compartment. For heaven’s sakes, you’ve bathed in the same bathtub as him as little babies; you defended him from the mean fifth graders on the bus when the two of you were little toddling kindergarteners; heck, you listened to him gush about his first kiss for two hours on the phone in the seventh grade. You’ve been with the guy since day 1, so why is it now there are fluttering feelings stirring in the depths of your mind?

“Morning, Y/N,” Donghan greeted you sleepily, still sporting his bedhead. 

You couldn’t help but softly smile at the sight from the kitchen counter; you cleared your throat before speaking, “I, uh, made some of my mom’s hangover tea if you want some.” He shot you a lazy smile, causing a burst of warmth to hit your face, before heading to the kettle and pouring himself a mug. He situated himself next to you, leaning onto the counter, sipping his tea next to you, enjoying the silence of the morning. Before you could stop yourself, you lifted your hand to his head, trying to fix his hair. Donghan leaned himself into your touch, and for the next few seconds, it was just you fixing his hair, and him looking at you with a soft smile. When you pulled your hand away, the both you turned to face forward, blush erupting on both of your cheeks. Your fingers tapped against your mug, “Um, Donghan, do you remember anything that happened last night?” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his eyebrows wrinkle in concentration, “I remember drinking a lot, playing truth or dare, and you helping me into your house. Nothing happened after that? No Hyunbin’s 17th birthday part 2?” You smiled at the memory of a drunken Donghan rummaging through your drawer and emerging with a bra on his head. 

“Ah, no, just wanted to gauge how drunk you were,” you said, focusing on your tea. 

“Oh, okay, that’s good. I’m gonna call Umji and tell her I’m not dead,” he said, ruffling your hair as he walked out of the kitchen. You were relieved that he didn’t remember the kiss that transpired between you two, but why did you feel a sudden weight settle on your shoulders?

Donghan came back into the room, running his fingers through his hair frustrated. You cocked an eyebrow at him from over your mug. “Umji just broke up with me.” 

You spat out your drink, looking up at him in alarm, “What! Why?” 

He just shrugged, “I don’t know. She just scoffed and said that if I really didn’t figure out why after last night, I must be dumber than she expected.” 

You shifted uneasily, and your feet suddenly looked very interesting, “I’m sorry, Donghan. I should’ve just taken you straight to your house.” 

He looked at you confused, “Okay, Y/N, you ruin a lot of my relationships, but this is definitely not one of those times,” you shot him a hurt look, “I kid, I kid. I’ll just stop by her house today to talk to her. You okay without me?” 

You tried to shoot him your brightest smile, “Yeah, fix your relationship! Don’t worry about me.” 

He watched you for a second before laughing, “Don’t be so eager to get rid of me. I’ll text you when I’m done, and then we can hang out.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” you sighed as you slammed your head against the table in the back corner of the pizza parlor. Jisoo sipped on her lemonade, and Rena was already on her second slice. 

Jisoo looked up at you, “Well, let’s ask the first question. Do you have feelings for Donghan, even a smidge?” You were about to open your mouth and protest, but you nodded your head before any words could tumble out. 

Rena finished her slice and leaned forwards, “Well, just tell him how you feel.” 

You shot her a pointed look, “He’s at Umji’s house right now talking to her, and you want me to tell him how I feel? High chance once she realizes he has no feelings for me, they’ll go back to being a couple.” You crossed your arms and leaned back into the booth. 

“But, the kiss had to come from somewhere right? Like, alcohol makes us brave, maybe he was drunk enough to realize his feelings for you, and then, poof, he kissed you,” Jisoo tried reasoning. 

Rena hummed in agreement, “After all, the guy looks at you like your his moon and stars. Kenta even told me he looked ragged as hell during your two week separation.” 

You groaned, “If he liked me, he wouldn’t be at Umji’s house right now. And can you guys stop making out this epic love story between the two of us? I pretty much just figured I might be in love with my best friend.” 

Jisoo blankly looked at you, “Well, maybe Donghan’s like you and blurred the lines between friendship and love a little bit too much to tell the difference. Trust me, he would not save every single one of his Friday night, even skipping dates if needed, to hang out with you if he didn’t love you.” 

You tried retorting, “Well, maybe he loves me like a friend?” 

Rena scoffed, “Friends don’t tell their friends they have nice hair and a nice smile and call them an angel before kissing them.”

Donghan didn’t text you for the rest of the weekend, but for once, you were okay without his presence, fearing that you might blurt out your true feelings if he did come around. When Monday came rolling in, you hid yourself in the restrooms all morning before the bell rang, just in case you might run into him and Umji making out in the hallway. However, the bell rung too soon, and you trudged your way to bio. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Donghan greeted, already seated at your table. You stood there at the door like a deer in headlights before someone pushed you in. 

“Uh, hey,” you placed your notebook and pencils on the table, keeping your gaze away from him to the best of your ability. 

“You free tomorrow?” he asked, twirling his pen. 

Your voice caught in your throat for a moment, “Uh, I have some studying to do for psych, so I can’t.” 

His smile dropped, “Oh, I figured my best friend could comfort me after being dumped,” all of this was said with a pout, something you tried very hard to ignore. 

“So, you and Umji aren’t a thing anymore?” you asked slowly, copying down the words on the board intently. He pointed towards the opposite side of the room where Umji now sat. You let out a small “oh” before getting back to work, “Maybe some other time Donghan, I’m kind of busy tomorrow.” He stared at you for a split second longer before nodding and focusing back onto his work.

“Hyung, it’s been 4 days, 10 hours, and 27 minutes since Y/N talked to me, and she hasn’t called or texted me since,” Donghan groaned; he was currently splayed out starfish style on the carpet in Hyunbin’s basement. 

Sanggyun didn’t look up from his phone when he spoke, “And nothing from Umji?” 

Donghan rolled onto his stomach, “Well, she dumped me because I supposedly am in love with Y/N, and whoever thinks that is obviously crazy. You guys know I don’t deal with crazy, not after that summer fling with that BDSM enthusiast.” 

Hyunbin was playing some video game, but he still chimed in, “So all your feelings for Umji just disappeared? Like overnight?” 

Donghan pondered the question, “It’s not like it magically dissipated into thin air. It’s just, it doesn’t hurt as much being dumped by her as-” he stopped talking there, unsure at the direction his statement was going. 

Kenta looked down at him from the couch, “As? As what?” 

Donghan played the words in his mind again, “Well, as not being with Y/N. Like, I think I felt ten times worst during the separation period between me and Y/N than I do now separated from Umji? It makes sense right? Y/N’s my best friend, and Umji’s just another one of my, now ex, girlfriends.” The three boys exchanged a look at the youngest’s statement. 

“Is it possible, just a little bit possible, that you might like, maybe even love, Y/N more than a friend?” Kenta asked. 

Donghan scoffed, “Y/N? As a girlfriend? Guys, this is the girl that organizes my desk every time she comes over, which misplaces all of my stuff. She’s always complaining about me being late when she obviously knows that my handsomeness isn’t accomplished by half-hearted styling. And she’s the one that I love to annoy by pretending I’m not listening just so she can start whining and pouting, and it’s honestly the cutest thing, and I-” Donghan sat up straight, “Shit, I think I might have feelings for Y/N.” Sanggyun slipped Kenta a $20. 

Hyunbin paused his video game, “Well, what are you gonna do about it?” Donghan sat there on the floor of Hyunbin’s basement, for the first time, lost on the matter of you. He could easily tell people what your favorite movie to watch on Friday nights are (anything Studio Ghibli or Begin Again); he could easily tell people what age you lost your first tooth (5, it was because you ran into a doorknob); hell, he could tell people what your biggest dream in life is (“just get out of this small town and do something amazing with my life. Adopt an elephant or two, just something.”), but in the matters of if you felt the same way for him he did for you, that was a different story. 

“Honestly Donghan, just tell her. Y/N’s a big enough girl to handle the truth, and I hope she’s mature enough to not let this get in the way of your friendship,” Kenta said. 

Sanggyun piped in, “Plus, it’s obvious she really likes you, even if she hasn’t noticed it yet.” 

Hyunbin unpaused his video game, “Dude, just go to her.”

His hands were shaking as he knocked on your door. “Breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out,” he repeated to himself. Then the door opened to reveal you, still in your pajamas, which he noted was an old hoodie of his and leggings. 

“Uh, hey, Donghan. Can I help you?” you asked, scratching the back of your neck, averting your gaze onto the potted plant by his feet. 

He took a deep breath in, “Can we talk?” 

Suddenly, fear flooded your eyes, you knew this was the moment he remembered the kiss and decides to drop you as a friend forever. “Uh, um, well, I think I have to walk my plant, so, uh, bye!” 

You tried shutting the door, but Donghan stopped it with his foot, “Y/N, just let me in.” You sighed before opening the door wide, letting your best friend in. He found his way to the couch and sat down in his spot. 

“Look about the kiss, I know you were drunk, and honestly, I should’ve pulled away, but I couldn’t. And you can’t stop being my friend because you started it and-” you stopped rambling the moment you saw Donghan’s confused face, “shit.” He stood up and walked to you hesitantly; once he reached you he placed his hands on both of your arms, 

“So, we kissed?” he asked. 

You meekly looked to the ground, shielding your reddening cheeks with your hair, “Y-yeah, last Friday night when you were really drunk.” 

Donghan let out a relieved sigh, “So you weren’t avoiding me because you hated me? You avoided me because we kissed?” 

You nodded, “I might hate you because we kissed.” 

He tensed at your words, “And why is that?” he asked, fearful of your answer. The look on your face was not what he had expected when you looked up. His best friend’s eyes were glossy with tears, her cheeks dusted pink, and her full lips trembling. 

“Because the kiss made me realized I loved you, loved you more than a friend,” you shook his hands off of you, and you backed away from him, “And I don’t even know how long I’ve been liking you in that way, but I have, Donghan, for a while now, and I just now realized it. But I know to you, I’m just going to be your friend, and I think in my subconscious, I’ve always accepted that, so I never even thought of playing with the idea of loving you in that way, of being yours. And I hate it, because I was fine then, but you and your really soft and skilled lips had to come and ruin everything!”

 Donghan stood there in shock before breaking out into a smirk, “Soft and skilled lips, huh?” 

You ran your hands through your hair, “It’s not time to be a little shit right now, I pretty much told you how I felt!” You grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, pouting when he caught it. 

Donghan advanced towards you, “And how do you know I don’t feel the same?” you looked like a cornered bunny the moment he got right in front of you. You peered up at him, tensing when he placed his hands on your arms again, “You know what I realized during the past four days? I realized that it hurts a lot more being separated from you than it does being dumped by Umji, and for a while, I couldn’t figure out why. Eventually everything clicked into place for me because yes, you’re a little shit. Okay? But you’re my little shit, and honestly, you drive me crazy. Every time you sing along to those Disney movies you like so much, I automatically smile because you’re just so damn happy over a kids’ movie. And every time you pout, I always have to fight the urge to suddenly just kiss it away. And every time you’re sad or angry or just upset with me, I’d kick myself a hundred times over, just for you to forgive me. I realized that yeah, you’re my best friend, but what I’m feeling right now? What I’ve been feeling for a while now? It’s something more than that, Y/N. I think I love you more than a friend.”

 The two of you stood there in the middle of your living room, tension building like water droplets accumulating on a penny. Suddenly, the last drop came down, and the tension burst. You slipped your arms up around his neck, and his hands found purchase on your waist. And like something out of a movie scene, the two of you kissed. It could’ve been ten seconds or ten years for all you cared. However, it all came to an end when Donghan mumbled against your lips, “Today’s Friday right?” you hummed in reply, “What movie do you want to watch?” 

You pulled away and pushed him onto the couch, climbing on top of him, “I’d rather not watch a movie today, Donghan. Are you okay with that?”

[frayedpatches]

Raven Cycle Fic Recs!

The Pynch section yo

- Wonderterror Weekend by nimmieamee - E - 49k

Adam Parrish gets Saturday off and spends the day falling in love with Ronan Lynch.

He also spends it fighting monsters, visiting Europe, and traumatizing people. But falling in love with Ronan Lynch is the part he chooses.

- With Quiet Words I'll Lead You In by @jesper-fahey - T - 20k

In that moment, Ronan looks like some kind of ferocious monument to a new found god; young, but infinite in power and a furious kind of sharp-edged beauty. Adam’s lungs feel a little short of air, but it’s probably just due the cold.

“I was freezing my fucking balls off out there.” Ronan complains and, just like like that, the illusion is shattered. He is a boy once more.

Cabeswater is trying to get Adam to realise something, but he's struggling to understand what. When he and Ronan break down in the middle of nowhere, Adam finally finds himself with enough time on his hands to figure out some things about himself and his feelings.

- Keeps Me From Unravelling by @jesper-fahey - N/A - 11k

Whatever response Ronan gives, it’ll be the truth, not just spilled platitudes; it makes Adam desperately want to win his approval. Ronan, this enigma of a boy with the ability to create anything from nothing, who has dreamed some of the most amazing, ridiculous creations. Adam chews on his bottom lip briefly, before forcing himself to stop. To be casual.

Ronan stops, stares at the gift sitting on his lap and then barks out the loudest laugh in delight. “Fuck, Parrish that is hideous!” His eyes are alight with a wild kind of joy.

(Or the one where a prompt generator gave me "Adam Parrish knits Ronan Lynch a hideous sweater" and I ran with it.)

- Heart of Stone, Heart of Flesh by @charmingpplincardigans - T - 28k

The elk appeared out of the shadow of the forest canopy as if materializing in mid-air. He was as tall as the moa, but also had massive antlers that reached up and tangled with the branches on the trees. His coat was a dusty chestnut color with a white starburst over his chest and smattering of white across his cheeks and nose. The elk leaned over the fence and bent his massive head, as if showing Adam deference. To Adam’s right, Destroyer knelt down on her front knees and dipped her nose into the grass.

To Adam’s left, Ronan bent his head too, like he was about to say grace. When he spoke his voice was soft and low. “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you. I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.”

(Or, the one where Adam is a veterinarian and Ronan has dreamt up a whole menagerie of extinct/magical creatures.)

- Amor gignit amorem by @amethystinawrites - G - 3k

Considering everything that had happened and just how desperately Adam wanted to get away, he hadn't expected to find anything like peace in Henrietta.

Trust Ronan to prove him wrong.

- Roses on Parade by Jamesina - M - 8k

Adam accidentally ends up in Ronan's dream and Ronan is very Ronan about it and Adam is very Adam about it. Gansey is also briefly very Gansey about things.

Alternate summary: Adam has feelings and hyperventilates about it for 9,000 words.

- Heavenly Wine and Roses by Jamesina - M - 4k

Gansey has everything under control.

- Roses in Between My Thighs by Jamesina - E - 6k

Four things that could have ruined them but didn't.

- the hang of being alive again by @ronibravo - M - 12k

Falling for Ronan had felt like going to speak at the same time as someone else after a long silence, two people bumbling over their words to say, no, sorry, go ahead about three times before one of them says what they were going to say.

- mapping territories by @cheselle T - 3k

“I’m not going to offer you a briefcase of money and demand you stay away from him,” Declan said. “This isn’t a fucking telenovela.”

“I can’t believe,” Adam said, “you just said the word telenovela out loud.”

-- or, Declan has a talk with Ronan's boyfriend.

- adam parrish is in love (or, you can take the boy out of the south) by heyfightme - M - 4k

“Alright Parrish, I yield. What is it, then? You miss the Daisy Dukes and shitkicker boots on those cowgirls back home?” “I’m from Virginia, not Texas. Not a lot of cow-anybodies.” “I refuse to believe you don’t know anyone who lives on a farm.” Parrish rolls his eyes hard enough to shake the earth. “Stewart, of course I know somebody who lives on a farm. Just no cow-people. There’s a difference.”

---

Adam is in college. He has a roommate. Adam's Virginian accent has gotten him curious. Also, Ronan comes to visit.

-Somnium Meum Vestrum by shoulderbone - T - 8k

Ronan smells like smoke and spice, like the memory of a home he's never had; like a feeling he dares not name.

- Without Having To Say by @charmingpplincardigans - T - 24k

“Yeah? Which was the big guy downstairs? Because my good Catholic upbringing didn’t make the distinction.”

Out of nervous habit, Ronan brings his wrist up to his mouth and chews on the leather bands there. He’s been wearing them and chewing on them since he was sixteen. It’s a wonder there’s anything left to them at all. He feels the same way about his good Catholic upbringing.

“I think,” Adam says, quiet now. “That he wasn’t very nice, but that he wasn’t ever given a reason to be. I think it was self-defense.” It’s an explanation that sounds both close to home and far away. He looks up and out the window. His gaze gets caught there, distracted for the first time since they started.

Ronan looks as well, but it’s dark out now and all he can see is the shadow box reflection of the room against the black behind. Set against the rest of it, Adam’s hunched over reflection looks small and dark. Ronan is little more than a few swaths of stark negative space cut against the white glow. Neither of them has a halo.

(Or, that one where Adam is an art major and Ronan agrees to model for a sculpture of Satan.)

- maybe i dreamt you by @memordes - T - 17k

Adam seldom dreamt of other people. His dreams were nebulous, winding, leaving him with abstract impressions. But there was Ronan, solid as flesh—and from there, the dream left Adam with the echo of a feeling.

It was one hell of a feeling, though.

The not really/necessarily pynch fics

- Things That Go Bump In The Night by mochroimanam - T - 9k

Subtitle: The real ghosts are the friends we made along the way! The gang goes to a Halloween haunted house attraction, only to find that things are a bit more....realistic...than expected.

Ronan reminded himself, viciously, that he interacted with a real ghost every day of his life. But Noah’s moments of otherworldly strangeness had nothing on this specter’s air of sheer sinister deadness.

Adam took a step forward next to him, and Ronan’s hand shot out, fingers gripping Adam’s sleeve. Being cornered like this made Ronan feel the same way he’d felt trying to get out of the dank cellar – claustrophobic and scared and angry. “Parrish,” he hissed, trying to pull Adam back. The girl was a good 20 feet away, but it still felt too close, and being any closer seemed like a decidedly bad idea.

- Out for Re-henge by @charmingpplincardigans - G - 7k

Blue has a favor to ask of Ronan while Gansey and Adam are away. She ends up receiving much more than she expected. (Or, that one where Ronan teaches Blue to drive stick and they have adventures.) Post-BLLB.

- we built this city by @fahye - T - 13k

"As you keep pointing out, I've died twice," said Gansey. He was so bright that Henry almost wanted to look away from him, and so compelling that he couldn't. "I don't care what I'm supposed to be doing."