#it's going to be even worse when my flatmate gets here and starts using the wifi too T^T

[sevensforasecret]

my internet is shite and now my life is *scroll until you hit the loading bar* *go away and do something else for 5 mins* *come back and scroll to the next loading bar* *only half of the images ever load*

[smilingformoney]

Champagne Problems

Chapter 8. Begin Again

Lionel/Reader

Summary: Change comes faster than you could anticipate; are you and Lionel ready to take the next step?

Word Count: 10.4k

All chapters here!

Read on Ao3 or WattPad or below the cut:

1991

September came around far too fast, and when it did, everything happened so quickly. You and Cole both packed up your essentials into two piles of boxes: one to go to Glasgow, and one to go to Lionel’s place.

Cole was the first to move out. Driving him and all his stuff all the way to Glasgow and back sounded like a nightmare, so you allowed Lionel to use his plane, though you told Cole in no uncertain terms that he was either to get the train or drive himself to London for visits. When he protested that that would take ages and it was so much quicker to fly, you reminded him that he made the choice to go to university 400 miles away, and if he really wanted to fly he could fly commercial.

You managed to resist crying when you said goodbye to him. He looked so happy to be there, and before you’d even left he was already chatting to his new flatmates. He wasn’t allowed to join an all-boys flat, and he was determined to leave Claire behind at school, so he wasn’t going to pretend and join an all-girls flat — so he was in a co-ed flat, three boys and three girls and him. “Three and a half of each,” he’d jokingly said, but as far as anyone would be concerned, it would be four boys and three girls.

After fussing over him one last time, you finally let him be, and you made your way back to the hire car to take you back to the plane, where Lionel was waiting for you. He was sitting on the sofa, a glass of brandy in one hand, watching something on the TV when you entered. He took one look at you, and you immediately started crying.

“Oh, chérie, come here,” Lionel said soothingly, and you practically threw yourself into his arms. He placed his glass down on the nearby table and wrapped you up in a warm embrace. “Shh, sweetheart, it’s alright. He’ll be alright.”

“What if — what if he’s not?” you sobbed. “What if people find out and they’re horrible to him? Or worse? What if he gets hurt and I’m not there?”

“He’s going to get hurt, love, that’s an inevitable fact of life. He needs to get hurt, it’s important for him to grow. You can’t wrap him up in bubble wrap forever, otherwise he’ll end up a spoiled arsehole like me.”

You sniffed. “You didn’t have it easy at uni either. I hear summer after first year particularly sucked.”

Lionel smiled wryly.

“That was self-inflicted. Look, if something terrible happens, the flight’s little more than an hour, we can fly straight up here and you can comfort him while I beat up whoever hurt him. Alright?”

You laughed and straightened up a little. Lionel handed you a handkerchief from his pocket, and you dabbed your eyes dry.

“You, in a physical fight? You’d never. What if you damaged your precious Armani suit?”

Lionel glanced down at his shirt, which now had a wet stain from your tears.

“I think it’s quite plain I care more for my family than I do my clothing. Besides, are you forgetting my great act of heroism in 1971, when I beat up that boy who attacked Sinclair?”

“Oh my god, you did!” you laughed as the memory came back to you. “How could I forget? That was the night I fell in love with you.”

Lionel smiled and looked at you curiously.

“Really? I thought it was Paris.”

“Well, you know, falling in love isn’t something that happens overnight, is it? Not like in the movies. I had a crush on you as soon as we met, of course, but that party was when I knew you were something special. I certainly started falling in love with you that night. I guess Paris was when I knew it for sure, that it was more than just a crush, more than just the excitement of being swept off my feet by a cute rich boy… when I knew I loved you, not just the idea of you.”

Lionel kissed you tenderly on the forehead, rubbing your back, and you smiled at the unusually soft affection.

“I knew it from that first date,” he murmured thoughtfully. “When I spoke and you listened, and when you spoke I hung on to every word. There was a moment in the park, I don’t remember what we were talking about - probably nonsense - but I looked at you and…”

Lionel sat back, thinking carefully. You watched him, curious, waiting to hear what he would say. You slipped your hand into his, and he smiled.

“It wasn’t a eureka moment. It wasn’t like a lightbulb appeared above my head. It was more of a… dawning realisation. A sort of simple serenity. ‘Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you and I didn’t even realise it.’”

Lionel squeezed your hand.

“He’ll be alright, [Y/n]. He’s half you and half me, but more importantly he’s 100% Cole, and here he’ll have the opportunity to discover what that means, who he really is. And if anyone does try to hurt him… he can just tell them who his father is, they’ll quickly back off.”

He smiled smugly, and you swatted him with a playful laugh.

“Don’t you go fighting his battles for him, Lionel! Let the cub grow his mane. There’s a reason he didn’t take your name, and it’s not because he doesn’t love you. If he wants to find out who Cole is, he doesn’t want his first trait to be ‘Lionel Shabandar’s son’.”

“I know, love. When he’s ready to tell the world, I’ll gladly stand by his side, but he can do so in his own time.”

Lionel reached over to the table to pick up his glass of brandy.

“It will be strange, though, if he’s still [L/n] after we get married.”

You stared at him. Lionel took a sip of his brandy as if he’d said something meaningless about the weather.

“…After we what?”

Lionel looked at you over the brim of his glass.

“After we get married. You’ll become Shabandar, so it’ll be strange if our son has a different last name, won’t it?”

“Sorry, I must be having memory problems. When did you propose?”

Lionel chuckled. He threw back the rest of his drink, put the glass aside, then wrapped both arms around your torso and lowered you down onto the sofa so he could climb on top of you and begin kissing and nibbling at your neck.

“Other than the time you said no, I haven’t. Not yet. But I will.”

“Oh, and you’re so sure I’ll say yes, are you? You were pretty sure of it last time, too.”

Lionel looked up at you with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re moving in with me tomorrow, [Y/n], so if you’re not in this for the long haul, you’d better tell me now.”

“I am, but… marriage? I mean, it’s only been a year…”

“Two years with a very long intermission,” Lionel reminded you. He kissed you on the nose, knowing it always made you smile, and it did. “[Y/n], I’ve been in love with you for twenty years. If I were ever going to stop loving you, I’d have done it by now. Anyway, as you rightly pointed out, I haven’t asked yet. This isn’t a proposal. Consider it…”

“A warning?”

Lionel laughed.

“Yes, a warning. I’m going to propose, and I’m going to marry you. Not yet… I’m in no rush. I know now I was a little premature when I asked last time. But you should know that I’m in this with every intent of making you Lady Shabandar. But first…”

His eyes flashed wickedly, and you knew that cheeky smile meant trouble was coming.

“…how about I make you cum around my fingers?”

There it was. Trouble.

And the trouble was just getting started, because the next day, you moved in with him. Lionel insisted you hire movers, so all you had to do was, in his words, “stand there and look pretty” while they moved everything. You didn’t have a whole lot of stuff to move in truth; most of it was furniture you hadn’t managed to sell, which the movers were going to take away and sell on for you. But standing there and looking pretty was difficult, because you were just watching while strangers emptied your house.

You followed them in your car to Lionel’s place, parked up in what was Cole’s space and was now yours, and showed them where to put everything. You would unpack it all yourself and decide where everything went later, so you just told them to put all your boxes in one of the spare rooms, and they left shortly after with the old furniture.

Lionel was at work, so you spent most of the day unpacking. Lionel’s wardrobe, while huge, was already full — he owned a lot of clothes for a man who took them off at every possible moment. You were sure you’d never even seen him wear half the clothes in his wardrobe, but he insisted it was all necessary, even though he seemed to own about two dozen identical white shirts. So instead, one of the spare bedrooms became ‘your’ bedroom - though you never intended to use the bed - and you unpacked all of your clothes into there.

Keeping busy helped keep your mind distracted. You didn’t want to think about Cole’s empty bedroom. Of course, you’d dropped him off in his new bedroom just yesterday, and he’d have a huge bedroom here now, but you’d watched him grow up in that bedroom. You’d moved in when Cole was five, after sharing a room at your dad’s place for the last few years, until finally the council decided you were enough of a Londoner to get your own place. You should have known that your child was a boy when one of the first things he did on getting his own bedroom was put up about twenty football-related posters.

As he got older, the football posters were taken down to make space for his own drawings, and that was when you started shopping for picture frames and noticed a gap in the market. Your dad gave you your P45 and a business loan, and you went from assistant café manager to small business owner at the age of 23.

It wasn’t long after that that you started seeing Lionel’s face more and more. An article about the “young tycoon making waves” here, a “now part of Shabandar Media Group” there. He became famous enough that you began seeing him in gossip magazines, some beautiful woman or another on his arm, and every time you saw some doe-eyed little starlet staring up at him like he was the most beautiful cash machine they’d ever seen, you were just reminded of the photograph Sinclair had shown you, some faceless bimbo with her head in his lap. You sometimes wished you’d kept that photo — you could have probably paid off your loan to your dad much faster than you did if you’d been able to sell it to the News of the World.

It was a good thing Cole looked more like you than he did Lionel. You weren’t sure you could handle seeing Lionel’s stupid face on a billboard proclaiming that Proud Radio was now broadcasting to the entire Sussex area, then go home and see the same face sitting across from you at the dinner table.

And now you were here, Cole was 400 miles away, and you’d be seeing Lionel’s stupid face sitting across from you at the dinner table every single night. Maybe Lionel had slipped something into your wine the day you went to his office demanding answers, because this was in no way how you’d expected the next year of your life to go. A part of your mind was still nagging at you, telling you you shouldn’t be depending on him. And when you told Lionel about this nagging voice in your head, he’d simply told you that you weren’t depending on him at all, in fact he was depending on you for his happiness, and if it made the voice feel better, it could believe that you were just using him for his money.

Of course, you both knew that wasn’t true, but it also wasn’t true that you were depending on him — as he frequently reminded you, he was supporting you. And true to his word, he was repaying you: after much debate, you asking for lower figures and he offering higher, you eventually settled on a number that represented eighteen years of unpaid child support. It was too high for your liking and too low for his, which you both agreed meant it was probably right.

You didn’t even want to see the money. You set up a savings account, Lionel paid the sum directly into it, and you left it at that. You told the man at the bank that you didn’t want regular statements showing your interest accruing, you didn’t want to hear from them at all unless someone tried to make a withdrawal, you just wanted the details of the account on a piece of paper that you could hide away in the safe in the wardrobe until you needed it. And if you never needed it, then it would just keep accruing interest, and Cole would have a tidy inheritance when you died.

Your shop had already closed a few weeks ago, the last remaining stock either sold at a discount or returned to the supplier. Maybe by now it was already something else, maybe selling books or clothes or records, or maybe it’d be a rival café, or maybe it’d be turned into an office.

On Monday, 400 miles apart, you and your son would both walk into your first ever university lectures. You’d managed to get a place at King’s College, and although the campus wasn’t quite close enough to Canary Wharf to visit Lionel and Sinclair for lunch as regularly as you used to, living with Lionel meant you were at least able to see him every day, and Sinclair would of course make his presence known as often as he could.

But before that — a party, to celebrate your moving in.

You insisted it had to be small. As large as Lionel’s apartment was, that didn’t mean it had to be filled to capacity. Sinclair was invited, of course, as well as some of Lionel’s colleagues you’d come to be friendly with when you visited him at the office or attended a work party as his plus one. You also invited some of the other shopkeepers from Cornelia Street who you’d made friends with over the years, including David of the delicious sandwiches fame, who Sinclair treated like a celebrity when he showed up.

The party was in full swing, people dotted around in little huddles of conversation with drinks in hand, when David finally managed to escape Sinclair’s ravings about how delicious his sandwiches were and how he should go into catering, and Sinclair bounded up to you as you reached for a beer from the cooler.

“Hey, [Y/n]! This is such a great party. There are so many interesting people here! It makes a nice change to have more than just the same circle of friends that Lionel and I have.”

“Yeah, it’s really weird for me, seeing mates from across the street talking to Lionel’s colleagues,” you said, glancing over to where the owner of the cobblers was somehow finding some common ground with the CFO of Shabandar Media.

“That’s what’s so fun about making friends over class barriers, you meet such a wider variety of people!”

While you opened your beer bottle, Sinclair reached into the cooler and pulled out a beer for himself. You reached over and opened it for him, knowing he always struggled with bottle openers, and he grinned.

“Thanks! I have great news, by the way!” Sinclair exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet as the two of you wandered away from the kitchen and towards the window. “I started therapy, and it’s going so well! Dr Johnson said she thinks I have something called ADHD so she’s referring me to another doctor so she can test me for it.”

“What’s ADHD?”

“It stands for Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder.”

You snorted. “Attention deficit and hyperactive are definitely words I’d use to describe you. Tell her I agree.”

Sinclair laughed. “You can tell her yourself, actually! She said she’d like to talk to people who know me, someone who knew me as a kid and someone who met me as an adult. So I’m gonna ask Lionel for the first one but would you be willing to talk to her about adult me?”

“Of course I would!” you said, and Sinclair beamed. “I’m flattered that you’d ask me.”

“Well, you’re the natural choice, of course, you’re my best friend other than Lionel, and I know you’ll be honest.”

“...I’m your best friend?”

Sinclair nodded, as if it were obvious. “Of course you are! You and Lionel are both my best friends. I can have two, right? One who’s related to me and one who isn’t. But you count as family anyway, even though you’re not married to Lionel yet.”

“Yet? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Clair, I just moved in today.” You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “Wait, he mentioned marriage yesterday as well. Is he planning something?”

“No! Honesty, he’s not. He’s told me he wants to marry you one day, though – but you already knew that, right? I mean, he has proposed before.”

“Yeah, and I said no! It’s not that I don’t wanna marry him one day, but… that’s a big commitment. And you know better than anyone that it’s a bad idea to rush into it. If it turns out to be a bad idea and we get divorced – I mean, look how messy yours is, and Lionel has a lot more money than you. And we have a kid. I want us both to be really, really sure before we make that commitment. How’s that going, by the way?”

Sinclair shrugged glumly. “Slowly. She’s still trying to drag her heels through court. I never once thought she was with me for my money, but that’s all she seems to care about now. She’s not trying to win me back, she’s trying to win my money. It’s tempting to pay her off so we can just finalise the divorce and be done with it, but I don’t want to reward her for what she did. But at what point does it become more expensive to pay for lawyers than to just give her what she wants?”

You took Sinclair’s hand in yours and squeezed it affectionately.

“I suppose you have to decide what’s more important to you — to save yourself the time, money and stress, and let her think she’s won… or pursue justice against her and pay the financial and emotional cost. And maybe, even then, she’ll still think she’s won because she knows she’s hurt you and cost you money.”

Sinclair cocked his head thoughtfully. “You know… I hadn’t thought about it like that. You’re very insightful, [Y/n], you know that? Lionel’s right. You have a clever way of looking at things.”

“He says I can see past the bullshit,” you said. You glanced over at Lionel, who was currently sitting on the sofa with a glass of brandy in his hand as he talked to Rachel, his PA. He caught your eye and smiled.

“Yes, exactly!” Sinclair agreed. “I think you’ll do well in finance. There’s a lot of bullshit. People trying to hide how much money they have, the true cost of things… most of my job involves poking around in my client’s lives, trying to really understand them, even if they don’t want me to. Maybe one day we could work together!”

“And maybe that day I’ll finally understand what it is you actually do.”

Sinclair laughed.

“I told you, I’m a stock analyst!”

“And I told you, I don’t know what that means!”

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to pay attention in class and find out. Are you excited to start?”

“Excited and nervous. I’m a bit out of practice with the whole school thing. Cole and I had a nosy around the campus in Glasgow and it’s all so modern now. Loads of computers. I’m probably gonna have to learn how to use one.”

“I’d volunteer, but I’m afraid I don’t know anything about them either. My junior keeps telling me I need to go digital, but it’s so confusing. He says I should use something on the computer called XL? I asked him if he meant I needed an extra-large computer but he just laughed.”

“Well, computers are the future, apparently, so you should get on it. I’m sure it’ll make stock analysing or whatever much easier. Or you could analyse the stocks of computers.”

“Oh, definitely! Computer companies are always a safe bet in any portfolio. In fact, you should probably invest in them too, I could put together a modest portfolio for you…”

As Sinclair rambled on at you about stocks, on the other side of the room, Lionel was trying his best not to answer Rachel’s questions about you.

“Oh, come on, sir, you have to tell me something! All those times I could have reported you to HR for what you get up to during working hours…”

“Rachel, HR answer to me,” Lionel said sharply. “If they have a problem with me kissing my girlfriend during working hours, I’ll simply amend the office rules to specify that I may kiss my girlfriend during working hours.”

“Oh? And are you going to add shagging in your office in there too?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lionel took a sip of brandy and Rachel snorted disbelievingly.

“Yeah, sure. So when you lock the door and lower the blinds, you’re just playing chess, are you?”

“It’s none of your business what we get up to in there. Your job is to ensure nobody thinks they have a meeting with me when I lock the door and lower the blinds.”

“You do know I can hear you, right?”

Lionel froze. “…What?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s muffled, but I can hear it. I’m not so chronically single I don’t know what shagging sounds like. And you’re not exactly quiet.”

Lionel really hoped his cheeks weren’t burning red right now. That wouldn’t be very becoming of a lion like him.

“Oh, Lord. I thought those walls were supposed to be soundproof!”

“Not soundproof enough, clearly. Don’t worry, nobody else can hear it. It gets inaudible about halfway to the lift.”

“Rachel, you should have said something. I’m an arsehole but not so much as to subject you to that!”

Rachel shrugged. “It shocked me at first but I got used to it. Helps me relax at night when it’s just me and my vibrator.”

Lionel raised his eyebrows, and Rachel slapped a hand across her mouth.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she whispered. “Can we forget I said that? I’ve probably had a drink too many…”

Lionel just laughed. “No, no, it’s out there now. Who’d have thought Rachel Price gets off to the sound of her boss fucking his girlfriend?”

“I don’t — not during! I just… remember it. Later. Oh, God, I should stop talking…”

Rachel buried her head in her hands and cringed, but Lionel was laughing.

“Who do you think about, me or [Y/n]?”

“I refuse to talk about this anymore.”

“[Y/n] always tries so hard to be quiet. She loves pretending to be shy, even though I know she’s just as hungry for it as I am. I’ll have to tell her next time that you’re listening and putting all her little moans into your wankbank…”

“I’m going to get another drink…”

Rachel stood up quickly, and halfway across the room, she almost bumped into you. You gave her a friendly greeting, and she just avoided eye contact and scurried off.

“Is Rachel okay? She looks like she’s seen a ghost,” you said as you joined Lionel on the sofa. He threw an arm around your shoulder and pulled you in close.

“I just discovered her dirty little secret,” Lionel murmured in a low voice so only you could hear. “You were right all along, she can hear us when we have the blinds down.”

You gasped. “No!”

“Mmm, and apparently, she likes to go home and remember what she heard as she fingers herself. It’s amazing what confessions you’ll get out of someone after a drink or two.”

“Oh, fucking hell. That’s so embarrassing! You know, I always thought she fancied you, but I kept telling myself I was just being paranoid.”

Lionel chucked and nipped at the top of your earlobe.

“Who says it’s me she fancies? Maybe she fancies you. You do make some delectable noises, after all. I’d certainly need a wank if I sat there and listened to your sweet moans as you cum.”

“Oh, yeah, I bet you’d love it if she fancied me,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “All your lesbian porn fantasies coming to life.”

Lionel shrugged. “Well, if it turns out she does want to lick your pussy, I don’t mind so long as I can watch. Have you ever thought about giving it a go? It is delightful, though of course you’ll never get to eat the most delicious cunt of all time, not unless your spine became very bendy.”

You swatted his chest.

“You absolute menace, Lionel. And here I was thinking I’d come over and we’d have a nice talk about our son starting university. Nope, your head’s in the gutter again. Maybe I’ll start calling you Pennywise.”

Lionel shuddered, and you laughed. You’d watched It a few weeks earlier, and that was when you discovered the proud lion had a fear of clowns.

“If you want my cock to instantly deflate, just remind me of that horrid thing,” he muttered before downing the rest of his brandy in the hope of erasing the image in his mind of the terrifying horror film you’d forced him to watch with you.

“You didn’t have to watch it, you know…”

“You said - and I quote - ‘If you watch this entire thing with me, I’ll let you fuck me in the arse.’ So yes, I had to watch it.”

“And… was it worth it?” you teased.

Lionel’s expression darkened into something mischievous. He smirked at you, his eyes alight with danger.

“Oh, it fucking was. In fact, if there’s anything else you’d like me to do in exchange for fucking your arse again, I’ll do it gladly.”

“Oh, that’s a dangerous offer, babe. There’s a lot I could ask you to do.”

“And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you… especially if it leads to fucking your arse.”

“Hmm, well, I’ll have to consider that… but for now, how about another beer?” you said, holding up your empty bottle.

“Of course.”

He kissed you on the cheek, took your empty bottle from you and stood up from the sofa. You gave his bum a pinch as he stood, and he shot a look at you.

“Watch it, you, or I’ll lift that skirt up and slap your arse for everyone to see.”

“That wasn’t me, it was Pennywise, he’s under the sofa.”

Lionel glanced down, and he almost looked nervous as he turned away to seek out some more alcohol from the fridge.

He was caught halfway when the lift door opened and Harry Deane entered, and he immediately made a beeline to greet Lionel. They exchanged a few words, Lionel managed to shake him off, and Harry looked searchingly in your direction. You gave him a little wave. Harry smiled when he recognised you and crossed the room to greet you, only to be accosted by the edge of the coffee table. He swore and rubbed at his shin as he hopped the few remaining steps to the sofa.

“Hello, [Y/n]. Sorry I’m late. Here, I brought you this.”

He handed you the bottle of wine as he took Lionel’s vacated seat.

“Oh, wow! Thanks, Harry.”

You glanced at the label. You didn’t know much about wine, despite having heard but admittedly not listened to both Lionel and Sinclair talk about the importance of vintages at length, but the label at least looked kind of fancy.

“So, back to school on Monday,” Harry said, slapping his knees jovially. “Looking forward to it?”

“Yeah, I am. I think. I just hope I’m doing the right thing. Not just school, but all of this —” You gestured around you. “I’ve never lived with someone before. A boyfriend, I mean. I’ve only ever lived with family.”

“Oh, really? Not — not even your son’s father?”

“No.”

“I see…”

Harry had been not so subtly trying to get answers out of you for months about who Cole’s father was, ever since you’d casually mentioned him in conversation, but you’d spent Cole’s entire life evading questions about his father; you were something of an expert in it now. Rival papers may have got wind that you existed and you were dating Lionel, but Cole’s existence had managed to evade them so far. They were all far more interested in the fact that you were the first and only ordinary person Lionel had ever dated.

“Will your son be moving in here too?” Harry asked conversationally.

“He’ll be in Glasgow most of the year, but when he comes to visit, he has a room here, yeah. Our last place was a council house, so you can imagine it was pretty small. He’ll even have a double bed here.”

“King-sized, actually,” Lionel corrected you as he approached with a fresh brandy in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. “Deane. Out of my seat.”

“Oh! Sorry, sir.”

Harry stood, but he also bowed his head, which made him look like he was fighting himself to stand up. Lionel confidently resumed his seat by your side and you kissed his cheek gratefully as he handed you your beer. Harry took the seat on your other side, wondering why Lionel didn’t just take this seat himself.

“Harry brought us some wine, Li,” you said, leaning forward slightly to pick up the bottle you’d placed on the coffee table. “Isn’t that nice?”

Lionel took the wine bottle from your hand and looked at it appraisingly.

“Hm. Acceptable, I suppose. We’ll keep this for guests we only sort of like. Deane, go and put this away, would you? The wine rack’s in the kitchen.”

“Oh, er, yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

Harry took the bottle from Lionel’s hands and stood up again to find the wine rack.

“Christ, you’d think I pay him for each time he says ‘sir’,” Lionel muttered. “Every other word, it’s ‘sir’ or ‘your Lordship’. It’s infuriating. Why can’t he just say what he has to say?”

“If he didn’t say it enough, you’d chastise him for that too,” you said, prodding Lionel’s thigh playfully. “I think you just like being mean to him.”

“I don’t like being mean, I just can’t stand fake niceties. That’s one of the many wonderful things about you, [Y/n],” Lionel said as he leant his elbow against the sofa cushion and began playing with your hair. “You’ll never give me false platitudes. I can always count on you to tell me if I’m full of shit.”

“You’re always full of shit.”

Lionel chuckled. He kissed your shoulder, and the hand that was playing with your hair began tracing the neckline of your top.

“See? Precisely what I’m talking about. Nobody else would speak to me like that.”

“That’s because everyone else is afraid of you,” you reminded him.

Lionel looked up at you from where his lips were now making their way towards your neck, his eyes glinting.

“That’s what happens when you have as much power as I do, chérie. Everyone either wants a piece of it, or they’re afraid of it. But you’re not afraid, are you, love?”

You snorted. “What should I be scared of? You have power, Lionel, but not over me.”

“Hmm, I don’t know about that… I have the power to make you cum so hard you see stars,” Lionel murmured in your ear. His fingers were creeping around your neck now, and he gave your throat the tiniest of squeezes. “Can anyone else do that?”

“I don’t need you for that, babe. Your game is good, I’ll give you that, but I don’t need you to make me cum, I can do that myself.”

Lionel stopped his sensual movements suddenly and looked at you sternly.

“Oh, really? You don’t need me to make you cum, do you? Well, then, I won’t bother in future. I’ll just use your hole for my pleasure and you can get yourself off.”

“Yeah, that’ll last,” you scoffed. “You love making me cum. You really saying you’re never gonna lick me out until my thighs clamp around your head and I squirt all over your face? Never gonna fuck me through my orgasm and keep fucking me until I cum again? Never gonna —”

“You’d better stop fucking talking,” Lionel growled, and his grip on your throat tightened threateningly. “One more filthy word out of you and I won’t be able to resist flipping you over and fucking you on this sofa for everyone to see. Give Rachel the full show this time. I bet Deane’d love it, do you think I don’t see the way he looks at you? Like a sad little runt, desperate for your attention. But you don’t want the runt, no matter how much shitty cheap wine he brings you. Do you?”

“No…” you whispered, trying to ignore the pool of arousal forming in your knickers.

“No… you want the lion. You want the Shabandar lion to fuck you hard and fast until you pass out, because no matter what you say, your fingers will never do what my cock does for you. I do have power over you, love, just as you have power over me. You’re the only person in this entire bloody world that has power over me. The only person who can drive me fucking insane. And Christ, I love it. I love the hold you have over me. I love you, darling, so much I’m prepared to share my throne with you. I’d give you fucking everything if you asked for it.”

He grabbed you by the chin and tilted your head back so you were looking up at him.

“But you never do. Never ask for anything… except when you’re begging to cum.” Lionel grinned wickedly. “So don’t even try to claim you don’t need me to make your cum, sweetheart, because it’s the only thing you ever ask me for, and I give it so fucking gladly.”

He kissed you fiercely, his lips wet and hungry and tasting like cigarettes and brandy. You still had a beer bottle in one hand, while the other grabbed Lionel’s thigh, as if grounding yourself. His grip tightened on your throat, just a little, just enough to make you grunt into his mouth.

“Sorry, Shabandar, are we intruding here?” laughed one of Lionel’s friends.

You gasped for breath as Lionel pulled away from you, his eyes dark and blown with lust, and you knew trouble was brewing.

“Not at all, mate,” Lionel replied. He poured the rest of the brandy down his throat and placed the glass down on the table. Then, despite your protests, he took your beer and put that on the table too.

The next thing you knew, you were in the air, Lionel having grabbed you by the hips and thrown you over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

“You lot carry on eating my food and drinking my booze. Don’t mind us.”

“Lionel!” you squealed in protest, but he just slapped your arse as he made his way past all your watching friends and carried you to the stairs.

“The lions are retiring to their den,” Lionel announced to the crowd. “Anyone who tries to disturb us will be fired. Even if you don’t work for me!”

“Lionel, put me down, you absolute menace!” you laughed. “There are about two dozen people in your living room, we can’t just disappear to go and shag!”

“Strange, because that’s exactly what we are doing,” Lionel said casually. “I think you’re forgetting that I’m Lionel Shabandar and I can do whatever the fuck I want. If I want to fuck my girlfriend while all our friends are downstairs, then I will. If they don’t want to listen, they know where the exit is.”

He pushed the door to his bedroom open with his knee and threw you unceremoniously down on the bed.

“Now, I’m going to remind you and everyone down there exactly who you belong to,” Lionel purred as he reached for his belt.

You placed your hands over his, stilling his movements.

“Li… as much as I love it when the lion comes out to play… I really don’t want to have sex while there are other people here. I feel bad enough knowing Rachel heard us in the office. Can we wait until the party’s over? I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

Lionel growled in frustration, but he let go of his belt and raised his hands.

“Alright. You know I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. But… how, exactly, do you intend to make it up to me tomorrow?”

“I’ll let you fuck me in the arse.”

Lionel groaned, and you could tell by the way he was fidgeting that he was fighting his arousal.

“Fucking hell. How can I turn that offer down, hm? Deal. No sex tonight until everyone else is gone. Speaking of which, maybe it’s time I kick them out…”

“Oh no you don’t!” you laughed, jumping up and grabbing his arm before he could go downstairs and tell everyone to fuck off. “We’re going to be good hosts, and we’re going to talk to the lovely people who came to congratulate me for getting the furthest any woman’s ever gone in taming the Shabandar lion. They’ll leave when they leave, and then we can fuck. If I don’t collapse with exhaustion.”

Lionel gave a mock sigh of exasperation as he put an arm around your waist to walk you back downstairs.

“[Y/n], you forget, Sinclair’s here. He’ll never leave of his own accord. The one and probably only good thing about Natalie was that her constant complaining meant he’d leave parties in good time.”

“You have my permission to kick Sinclair out if he’s the last one here.”

As he walked down the stairs, Lionel could feel his cock still erect in his boxers. He glanced down, and you chuckled at his predicament.

“Go talk to Harry, that’ll deflate your little problem.”

“Only if you come with me. The way he fawns over you amuses me.”

You rolled your eyes and slipped your arm through the crook of his elbow when you reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Fine, but in exchange, you’re making the coffee tomorrow morning.”

“Deal. Pleasure doing business with you, Miss [L/n].”

“And you, Lord Shabandar. Come on — into the jungle we go.”

Two Days Later

The strangest thing about starting university at 38 wasn’t the two decades of technological advancements since you’d last set foot in a classroom, nor was it the freer, less structured day universities allowed than schools. It was the fact that you were surrounded by children.

You knew you were going to be older than your coursemates. You knew they were all going to be the same age as Cole. But the reality of it didn’t really hit you until you walked into the lecture hall for your first class and felt like you were surrounded by children.

The course was mostly boys, all white, and the majority of them looked like… well, they looked like Lionel.

Not literally, of course. There were only a few blondes, and none of them had his combination of Roman nose, small eyes and perfectly shaped Cupid’s bow that made him so irresistibly handsome. It was less the way they looked, more the energy they exuded. They looked like they all thought they were the best person in the room because their parents owned something or other. They all looked rich.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this was what Cole would look like if he’d grown up as Lionel’s son. The entitlement, the snootiness, the my father will hear about this attitude to any perceived injustice. And the accents! Every time the lecturer asked someone a question, you heard voices responding that were posh enough to greet the Queen. You didn’t sound common at all - you were from Winchester, after all, a notoriously posh city - but compared to this lot, you might as well have been from Wolverhampton.

“They were probably just putting it on,” Lionel said to you later that evening as you told him all about it. “Believe me, most people who speak like that are either faking it or have spent so much time faking it that it became real. I don’t sound like that, and do you know why? Because I don’t go out of my way to make sure people know I have money. I let my wealth speak for itself. People who walk around with a metaphorical sign saying ‘I have loads of money’ usually don’t have loads of money. There, how does that feel?”

You pulled slightly against the rope Lionel had just finished tying around your wrists.

“Good. Can you pull me up a bit higher? I like it when there’s a bit of a pull on my shoulders.”

“Alright, but tell me if it’s too much.”

Lionel adjusted the other end of the rope, which was currently fastened to a pole that was running over the bed, holding your arms above your head. He shortened the length of the rope, and you felt a slight stretch on your shoulders.

“That’s good,” you said, and Lionel resecured the rope. He sat back on his ankles and smiled as he admired you, kneeling naked on the bed, your wrists tied above your head, completely under his control.

He placed his hands on your knees and gently spread them apart, and he growled when he saw how wet you were.

“Look at you. Completely at my mercy, just as you should be. I could just leave you here and there’d be nothing you could do about it, just kneel and wait for your lion to let you go.”

“I don’t think that’s what you bought this rack,” you teased. “I don’t think you’d tie me up and spread my legs just to walk away.”

“Mmm, you know me too well, love. I can never walk away from you when you’re naked, let alone naked and tied up.”

Lionel’s eyes were raking over you hungrily, as if he needed to memorise every part of your body. He hadn’t even touched you yet, and you could feel your cunt getting wetter.

“I wonder what those boys thought of you,” Lionel said thoughtfully. He placed a hand on each of your knees and began slowly, tauntingly, moving them up your thighs.

“Probably thought I was someone’s mum,” you replied with amusement, and Lionel chuckled.

“They probably wondered what such a gorgeous thing was doing on a finance course,” he said.

His hands reached your hips, and he continued his sensual exploration of your body by tracing your waist, and you twitched a little as his touch tickled, but you did your best to keep still.

“It would be unfair, after all, for one woman to be both smart and beautiful. But no, you have to be perfect, don’t you? Smart, beautiful, funny, fierce… with a tight cunt and gorgeous tits.”

His hands reached the tits in question and enveloped them in his palms, and he groaned, as if he didn’t grope your breasts every single day.

“I heard some of them talking before class,” you said, and you tried not to let out a squeak as Lionel pinched your nipples. “My father owns this, my uncle owns that, I went to this posh school, I have this many horses at our third country home…”

“Oh, I’m sure they all had their measuring tapes out,” Lionel chuckled. He was kneading your breasts now, and you could see from the way his hips were moving up and down slightly that his cock was getting impatient.

“I heard your name being dropped. Well, MY father’s old school chums with Lionel Shabandar. Like being two degrees away from you makes them richer somehow. They probably wouldn’t believe me if I went in tomorrow and told them that last night Lionel Shabandar’s cock was leaking before he even started fucking me.”

Lionel glanced down and saw that his erect cock was, indeed, starting to leak, as if he needed any more lubrication than what your soaking wet cunt was aching to provide.

“Looks like Lionel Junior wants something,” you teased.

Lionel’s eyes snapped up to yours, his pupils blown with lust.

“Then let’s give him what he wants,” he growled.

Lionel grabbed your thighs and lifted you up. You pulled on the rope above your head to allow yourself to raise your hips, and you let Lionel guide you as he positioned himself below you and lowered you onto his lap. You felt his cockhead breach your entrance, and you slid easily down the rest of his shaft, the wetness you were dripping for him allowing his cock, girthy as it was, to easily stretch your inner walls and penetrate you up to the hilt.

“Fuck, that feels amazing,” Lionel groaned. He wrapped his arms around your torso, holding you steady. “How does it feel, love? Are your arms alright?”

“I wanna touch you,” you whined, and Lionel chuckled.

“All in good time, love. For now, I’m going to fuck you while you’re tied up and helpless and unable to touch me no matter how much you beg. I’m going to cum inside you, and I’m going to watch my cum dripping out of your cunt all over these nice clean bedsheets. Then, I’m going to turn you around and do the exact same thing with your arse. If you’re a good girl and take your lion’s cum as you’re told, I’ll let you suffocate me with those thighs and I’ll eat you out until you tell me to stop. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Lionel grinned hungrily.

“Oh, chérie… you are going to be sore tomorrow.”

He was as good as his word. It took all your effort not to cum while he thrusted up into your cunt, and when he turned you around and fucked up into your arse to fill you up a second time, you were glad your hands were tied above your head, or else you might not have been able to resist rubbing your clit while Lionel took your arse. If you’d been doing that while he roared through his second orgasm, you may well have passed out.

Lionel was full of praise for how good you were being for him, and just as he promised, he laid down on his back and let you lower your hips over his face so he could eat you out. When you looked down and saw him hungrily devouring your cunt from below, you couldn’t hold back the orgasm that washed over you, and even when you finished, Lionel kept a firm grip on your thighs that told you he wasn’t finished with his dessert.

You managed one more orgasm before you had to call it quits. If you hadn’t, Lionel may well have happily carried on eating you out all night, but your arms and legs were aching, you were desperately thirsty, and you thought if you did cum again you would almost definitely pass out.

Lionel muttered words of praise in your ear as he untied your wrists, and you practically collapsed onto the bed, falling face-first into the pillows.

“You’re cute when you’re exhausted from shagging,” Lionel teased as he tossed the rope aside and laid down next to you. You turned your neck to look at him, and he smiled at you.

“Feeling okay?” he asked, gently stroking the side of your face.

You nodded and threw an arm over his torso to lazily embrace him. Lionel planted a kiss on your nose, then turned to reach for the bedside cabinet.

“Oh, fuck, my fags are in the other room,” he sighed.

“We can go back to our room,” you mumbled sleepily. “You might have to carry me, though.”

“You’re not the only one who’s exhausted, sweetheart. I’ll go get them…”

You shook your head stubbornly and managed to push yourself up onto your elbows.

“No, let’s go together. I don’t want to fall asleep here.”

It took you a minute, but you managed to get yourself to your feet, and Lionel placed a hand on the small of your back as you both sleepily made your way down the hallway back to your bedroom.

“We should put a lock on that room,” you said thoughtfully. “If we’re gonna have sex stuff in there, I don’t want Cole finding it.”

Lionel snorted. “That is not a conversation I want to have with him. ‘Oh, that? That’s just where I tie your mother up so I can use her body like a warm sex doll.’”

“Oh my god, don’t,” you laughed, swatting him playfully as you entered the bedroom. You made a beeline for the bed and practically threw yourself under the covers. “We already traumatised Sinclair, I don’t want to traumatise Cole too.”

“There were seven other bedrooms in that house, Sinclair could have moved at any time. Maybe he liked hearing your moans.”

“Oh, eiw, gross.”

Lionel laughed as he climbed into bed next to you and pulled his lighter and box of cigarettes from his bedside cabinet. You pushed yourself up to rest against the headboard next to him and grabbed a cigarette from him before he managed to close the box.

“Oh, I must have fucked you well,” Lionel teased. You put the cigarette between your lips and he lit it for you before lighting his own.

“I’m surprised my arms aren’t stuck like that,” you commented, and you rolled your neck to relieve some of the tension. “That’s gonna be something we only do occasionally.”

“Mmm, as much as I love having you restrained, I also enjoy it when you touch me. Can’t scratch your nails down my back if your hands are tied.”

You giggled, slightly delirious, and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“We should get a cat.”

Lionel looked down at you, bemused. “Where did that come from?”

“I always wanted a cat, but the council make you pay higher rent if you have pets. Cole wanted a dog, but we can’t have a dog in a flat, even one this big. Anyway, we don’t need a dog, we’ve got Sinclair. Same thing, but he won’t shit everywhere.”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t want a dog either. Far too much work. I could deal with a cat, they mostly ignore you until they want food. Any particular kind of cat?”

“Orange.”

“Why orange?” Lionel asked with a laugh.

“They’re weird little guys.”

You took a puff of your cigarette, and Lionel thought you looked just gorgeous like this, your hair a tousled mess, your eyes half-closed with exhaustion, a cigarette between your lips and the duvet only pulled over your waist, leaving your breasts on open display for him, with bite marks and bruises forming. If he had any artistic skill at all, he’d paint you just like this.

“Alright, let’s get an orange cat.”

You looked at him, eyes alight with excitement.

“Really?”

“Yes, but it has to be an indoor cat. And we’ll have to cat-proof the place. And you’re right, we definitely need to lock that room, it’ll think it’s a playground.”

“Can we have a baby?”

Lionel’s heart skipped a beat with alarm before he realised you meant a kitten.

“Christ, [Y/n], don’t scare me like that! …You are still talking about the cat, right?”

“Yes, of course.” You frowned, confused, then realisation dawned as Lionel took a drag from his cigarette to calm the heart attack you’d just given him. “Oh, you thought I meant a baby baby. No, Christ, I just started university, I can’t get pregnant again now.”

“You can’t get pregnant again at all, thank you very much. You are taking your pill?”

“Course I am. Don’t worry, Li, you won’t be cleaning up baby sick any time soon. Unless Sinclair knocks someone up, I suppose. Aww, then we can be Auntie [Y/n] and Uncle Lionel!”

Lionel shuddered. “Do we have to? Can’t we just wait until it can use the toilet properly?”

“You could dress it in a lion onesie.”

Lionel paused in the middle of stubbing out his cigarette. You grinned cheekily.

“You’re considering iiit!” you said in a sing-song voice. “C’mon, babe, admit it, you’d be a great uncle. All the fun of baby but when it starts crying and shitting itself you can just give it back.”

“Incorrect. There is no ‘fun of baby’.”

“Yes there is, they’re so fun when they’re in a good mood! Cole was such a cute baby, he had these little chubby cheeks, and he was bald for months. And they have tiny little hands and feet all balled up, and you get to dress them up in teeny tiny little socks — until they try to eat them, Cole was always shoving his socks in his mouth. He was always shoving everything into his mouth, food especially, and he never stopped in that regard, especially when he hit puberty, he could give Sinclair a run for his money.”

You reached over Lionel to stub your cigarette out in his ashtray. He put his hand on the back of your head and tried to guide you down between his legs.

“Talking about shoving things in your mouth…” he said.

“Stop it!” you laughed, and Lionel let you go. You sat up again and gave him a peck on the lips. He grabbed the back of your head again and pulled you in for a deeper kiss, until you both sank back down into the bed, heads resting on the pillows as he peppered you with kisses.

“Do you really hate babies that much?” you asked.

“I don’t hate them, I just see no redeeming qualities in them,” Lionel replied as he wrapped an arm around you and you snuggled in against his chest. “If Sinclair does knock someone up and needs a babysitter, that’s on you, not me. I’ll look after it once it’s old enough to shake my hand properly.”

“Cole’s the same, he hates babies.”

“Wise lad. Hopefully he won’t be knocking any girls up.”

You giggled.

“What?” Lionel asked with a frown.

“He can’t knock girls up, Li. He doesn’t have the equipment.”

“…Oh, right. Well, good, nothing to worry about, then.” Lionel paused, frowning. “Wait, can he get pregnant?”

“Of course he can. His womb didn’t magically stop working the moment he declared himself a boy, as much as he’d have liked it to.”

“But… hang on…”

You looked up at Lionel with amusement as the cogs whirred inside his brain. He always looked so cute when he was confused, especially when he frowned and he got a little crease between his eyebrows.

“Does he like boys or girls?” Lionel asked at last.

“He likes both, but he seems to like boys more.”

“So… he could get pregnant? If he had a boyfriend — but then I suppose the boyfriend could be like him… or he could have a girlfriend that was born a boy…” Lionel pinched his nose. “Christ, this is confusing. Why can’t everyone just be the way they are when they’re born?”

You frowned.

“No, I don’t mean he should have stayed a girl,” Lionel said quickly. “I mean, if he’s a boy, it would be a lot easier if he was just born a boy.”

“Well, that one’s on you, babe, the sperm brings the Y chromosome. Not my fault if your swimmer brought an X instead,” you said with a playful poke to his arm.

“Ah, but, the egg lets the sperm in!” Lionel said with a counter-poke. “I’m sure I had plenty of strong male swimmers trying to get in, but you let the wrong one in.”

“Oh, sorry, my bad. You’re right, that was definitely a thing I had control over, and yet still didn’t know I was pregnant until two months later.”

“When do you think we conceived him?” Lionel asked curiously. “I’ve been thinking about it, I can’t recall a time the condom seemed to break.”

You shrugged. “No idea. We were shagging a lot. Definitely after you came home for summer, last time before that was Easter, that was too early. Imagine it was the first day back? ‘Hey babe, I’m home for the summer, I brought you some fancy wine to ease my guilt about fucking around and a broken condom so you’ll always be reminded of me after you find out and dump me.’ Good thing it broke with me and not one of the other girls, I suppose.”

Lionel frowned at you.

“What? I’m trying to make light of it to show I’ve at least kind of forgiven you. Stop looking at me like that.”

“You’ve still not asked me about it. I promised to tell you if you asked but… you’ve not asked.”

You bit your lip.

“I’m not sure I wanna know. Except, maybe… what was going through your head?”

“Very little. I was always high when it happened. Sinclair would go to cricket, I’d invite someone over to do a line with me… I always told myself nothing was going to happen this time, but as soon as the coke hit, it took over. I know my decisions were my own, even if they were driven by addiction, but I don’t want you to think I was doing it with a clear mind. When I was sober, I hated myself for it. Hated myself when I was high too, but the addiction was stronger than me.”

“But you were fine when you came home. You were never — you were never high except on New Year’s, and you never seemed to be withdrawing.”

“You weren’t always there. I’d get high when you went home.”

“You kept it from me.”

“…Yes.”

You sighed and rolled onto your back. There was a long silence. The minutes stretched out, and Lionel desperately wanted you to say something, but he knew he had to let you think.

“The boys on my course… they’re the same age you were. The same age as Cole.”

Lionel nodded, waiting to see where you were going.

“And they are, they’re just boys. They’re kids who think they’re grown up. I didn’t really see it at the time, because I was just a kid too, but… you were a kid, Lionel. More than that, you were sheltered and privileged. You said it yourself before, you thought you could have it all. You’d never seen a consequence in your life. Add a cocaine addiction and an unnaturally high libido…” You laughed incredulously. “God, that was a fucking recipe for disaster, wasn’t it?”

“[Y/n]…” Lionel said cautiously, still unsure whether you were angry or not. “I know I’ve said it before… but I really am sorry.”

You turned back towards him, and he flinched when your hand moved suddenly towards his face, but instead of slapping him as he expected, you gently stroked his cheek with much more tenderness than he deserved.

“I know, Li. I know you are. And… I won’t say I’m not still upset about it, of course I’m upset. I’m not sure I’ll ever truly be at peace with what you did. But that doesn’t change what’s always been true.”

“…Which is?”

You smiled softly as you looked at him. Your eyes were wet, but you weren’t quite crying.

“I love you. I loved you then, and I love you now. You loved me then, and you love me now. You were at the mercy of an addiction to one of the worst drugs out there — and you’re responsible for every decision you made. But you’re also responsible for every good decision you’ve made. If there’s one thing you’ve proven over the last year, babe, it’s that you absolutely are the same Lionel I knew back then. You’re still a mess of contradictions. You’re an entitled, privileged arsehole who publicly donates to controversial charities because you know they’re doing good. You’re horrible to Harry but lovely to Rachel. You never wanted kids, but you love our son. You find Sinclair annoying but you’d do anything for him. You are completely, utterly devoted to me… and you cheated on me.”

Lionel looked at you curiously.

“That’s how you see me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s… bloody hell, [Y/n]. That’s the most honest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Everyone either worships the ground I walk on or they spit on it. I’m either a god or the devil, and I’m used to that. I’ve never had someone see me from all sides before.”

“Yes, you have.”

Lionel frowned, but you just smiled and poked his shoulder.

“You numpty. I’ve seen you for what you are for almost twenty years.”

“And that’s what I am? A mess of contradictions?”

“Mmm. Also known as a human being.”

“How dare you.”

You laughed.

“Look, as a mess of contradictions, you can be both a human being and a mighty lion. But there’s one thing you are that will never be contradicted.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

You leaned in and kissed him, then looked at him with an adoring smile.

“The love of my life.”

[sitp-recs]

Hi Liv,

Do you have any fics when an event acts as an “emotional catalyst” for either Harry or Draco? Like one them being hurt or in a near death situation that triggers some moment of clarity or confession of feelings? Thank you.

What a great ask, anon! Here are some fics that came to mind, not all of them involve danger or near death situations but I hope they work all the same :) enjoy!

the keys to your kingdom by thistle_verse (E, 7k)

It was nothing so elegant as fucking, the first time they came together. It was teeth just a little too sharp— against a collarbone, on the right-side curve of a jaw, drawing blood from the plushest part of a bottom lip. It was the doorframe digging into the curve his spine was making of its own volition: closer, harder, more.

Night Changes by Writcraft (E, 10k)

Draco and Harry have spent years dancing around one another, but Potter’s straight and married. Until one day he isn’t.

What Real Thing? By loveglowsinthedark (E, 12k)

They don’t cuddle, they don’t talk about their relationship (or lack thereof) and they certainly never fall asleep in each other’s arms.

White as Snow by bixgirl1 (E, 19k)

After a quick escape from danger, Harry and Draco find themselves trapped in a blizzard, a small cabin their only refuge from the storm. It's the perfect place to recover and regroup — and to have a long-overdue conversation or two.

Don't Stop It Before It Begins by mischieviolet (M, 19k)

“I don’t understand how this is of any concern to you, Malfoy,” Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest. Draco blinked at the use of his last name, something that Harry only used with him in jest these days. “I’m merely spending time with my Auror partner, who is from another country, and has no one here. I would do the same if it were you.”

The Partner, The Rival and The Very Big Case by oceaxe (E, 24k)

When Harry and Nott are paired up to go undercover as fake boyfriends, Draco is disappointed not to get the assignment. It's just professional jealousy that's making him feel so upset. Obviously. He's engaged to be married to Astoria, after all.

Time and Again by lauren3210 (E, 28k)

Draco has an important research assignment, and he needs Auror protection. Harry’s a little concerned, not only because he can’t even pronounce the places Draco’s dragging him off to, but because there’s the slightest chance he might do something stupid, like tell Draco all about that little crush he’s been harbouring for a while now...

(The Piece) I was Missing All Along by lauren3210 (E, 30k)

Draco and Harry have been flatmates and best friends for years, and Draco thinks life is just perfect that way. But when something comes along and threatens to take all that away, Draco has to decide what it is he really wants, and just how hard he's going to work to get it.

Potential Gravity by zeitgeistic (E, 32k)

Draco is not good at Cards Against Humanity, but Harry’s not good at being human, so it all works out. Except for the explosions. And Harry’s inability to live when Draco’s not around.

What Dreams May Come by firethesound (E, 36k)

If Harry had to get called into work on his day off, at least he was able to get Malfoy called in too.

Highly (in)Compatible by daisymondays (T, 36k)

Draco’s been shagging The Prat Who Lived on and off for a few months when his soul mark starts to change. Draco’s had to accept a lot of adjustments to his life, but accepting that Harry Potter could be his soulmate is one step too far. It can’t be true? Can it?

Merlin Works in Mysterious Ways by lordhellebore (M, 82k)

When Harry is forced to form a Blood Bond with Draco Malfoy under threat of death, he thinks his future will consist of a cold home and sexual frustration. But when a group of left-over Death Eaters decides to stir trouble, their lives change completely – and it takes them both some years to figure out whether it’s for better or for worse.

[pichiflu-draws]

(Give It) Another Shot!

Summary: After getting fired from my previous job, I get hired at 79's the clone bar on Coruscant.

Mentions of getting fired and cheating. Very OCs and dialog heavy. 1k words.

I'm sorry if this is complete nonsense, English is not my first language and this is the first time that I sat down and wrote an story, or at least I tried to. Also I wrote on my study breaks so I don't know if it makes it better or worse. When descriptions of myself are mentioned they are reference of my sona, which I hope to make a reference sheet for myself soon

"Okay, I think I finally got it!" I celebrated, pouring the bloody rancors into the glasses lined up on the counter. I watched as each of my test subjects took a glass and drank, well except Radio, who always had something to say.

"Where's the rancor bone?" the trooper asked referring to the sugar bone that usually was served with the drink. Which I didn't put on none of the glasses.

"Really, vod? That's what you—" a hiccup interrupted Choreo. "—That's what you're worried about?"

"We're here to help them improve and serve the drinks correctly!" Radio tried to defend himself.

Shailaja —the beautiful godsend that she was— stopped them before the two could begin arguing. I wondered briefly if that was the same tone she used with the preschoolers she taught when they started to get rambunctious. She probably sounded way more sober than how she did at the moment, though.

"You should use a bit less vodka, but other than that I think you got it," Whip said, nodding to his now empty glass and readjusting his wobbly girlfriend on his lap.

"You think so?"

I was hopeful of getting the hang of a couple recipes before Taungsday night, so Whip's reassurance meant a lot for my growing anxiety.

The thing was, to put it simply, that a few days ago I got fired because I slapped and yelled at a client. In my defense, that guy was being an absolute jerk, yelling to one of my previous coworkers —a highschooler working part-time. Maybe I should have handled less impulsively but I'm not the most rational being on Coruscant.

After that shitshow I had to find a new job. Luckily, Shailaja —my flatmate— and I had another month of our rent paid, so at least I didn't have to worry about that. Unfortunately, I was not having much success finding a new job and was starting to consider going back and beg to get hired back.

That was until Whip and his brothers told me that 79's was looking for new people and after a —ridiculously— short interview, my first shift started Taungsday night, so I had three days to fix my lack of bartender-skills.

Which lead to where we now were: with Gate Squad, a group of Coruscant Guard trooper we have befriended, and Shailaja sitting around our kitchen island and with me making drinks.

Thankfully for the Corries and Whip in particular, they had the night free of patrol duty so they could enjoy a free dinner and my subpar cocktails and would be able to stay the night in our apartment. Good thing Shailaja and I had a nice collection of pillows and blankets because, except Whip, they where going to sleep on our living room floor. On spare mattresses, of course.

"You don't need to worry so much, birdy" said Nexu, probably the most sober if you didn't take me into account.

"Yeah! You'll do great, sweetheart!!" exclaimed my Togruta friend, almost falling from her perch on Whip's lap.

"Okay, I'm cutting you off, Shailaja. You had way too much to drink," I said filling another glass with water and looking for something for her to eat.

"See! You even have the bartender attitude down!" cheered Radio.

"Besides," Disk, who has been quietly drinking, said ", our brothers in the front-lines are used to some nasty moonshine they brew themselves. I'm pretty sure that they'll happily chug whatever you serve them".

When I opened the door to 79's on Taungsday I was met with a human woman behind the bar. She looked over at me from the shelves of bottles and said:

"Ah, you must be the newbie"

She then introduced herself as Sira Borr, and was the main bartender of the bar. I hesitated when she asked me how much experience I had making drinks but at the end I decided to be honest. She nodded and patted me on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, kid" she told me even if we probably were close in age ", most of the time the troopers order a beer or a glass of spotchka, nothing too fancy. And you can always ask me if you need help, you're under my wing". She laughed. "Get it? Because you have wings?"

I chuckled at her attempt of humor. Maybe this won't be so bad?

Sira began showing me around the place as the rest of the workers began filling in. I wasn't able to remember all the names, as most of my attention was on the collection of liquors and tools behind the bar. For the most part they seemed nice.

According to Sira, it was going to be a quiet night —at least by 79's standards— since none of the most rambunctious battalions were on the front, which would give me the time to get used to how the things worked at the bar.

No sooner than the neon sign switched to 'open' clones started filling the bar.

Some went straight to the booths, looking like they had those distributed among them, while others went directly to the dance floor or the bar. Thankfully, Sira was right and the main thing I had to do was open beer bottles and partake in light conversation or clean glasses, which I was happy to do.

I was chatting with a silver haired trooper named Sinker when a human woman with tear stained make up sat suddenly at the bar.

"Give me the strongest thing you have" she ordered with a crack in her voice.

My ears raised and I felt my tail stiffen in surprise. "I- uh-" came out of my mouth, a very intelligent response I must say.

I looked over at Sinker, as if he could somehow help me.

"H- He cheated" said the woman before breaking into sobs on the counter-top. Sinker and I exchanged another look. He awkwardly gave two pats to the woman's shoulder, making her cry twice as hard.

What a way to start my first day.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blame @orangez3st because she was the one that gave me the little push I needed to try my hand at writing. And big shoutout to @scrappy-scrapper-scrapping-by cause I've been bothering him with beverage and bar culture questions.

[ohmarjorie]

I'm at the stage of pmdd where I feel awful and guilty because I've convinced myself my flatmates hate me I've been avoiding them and the kitchen like the plague except for sometimes when I pass them on the stairs so I'll say hi or when one of my flatmates visits my floor and I feel terrible they have gone out drinking 6 nights in a row and that got me pissed even tho it's none of my business and they did try to include me and ask if I'm going the first few days but then they stopped bc I literally have been staying in my room all day then I started leaving early and returning late to take away that stress and after went out with friends Friday i was so chill it was the two glasses of alcohol but I thought that maybe I could do this and could go down to the kitchen but it's so impossible and my mum calls me everyday what did you have for lunch and I've been saying so much rubbish like all that food I had bought hasn't been touched even tho I said I've been eating it because she told me earlier how when she left on Saturday she was so worried how would I fend for myself when I was literally pushed into the deep end but she said she felt so much better after I explained how I was doing because I just know it would be 100% worse if i told her the truth. Anyway as I was saying my bread went mouldy and the cheesecake I thought everyone finished went mouldy and I do think my flatmates are nice because this girl asked if forgot that I had some and tbh I want to make an effort but I'm just so damn tired on Saturday they did a pub crawl and I thought maybe that's the perfect time but no i messed that up because I just didn't text them and then today they had a movie night and again that'd be a good way to break the ice but no i messed that up again because I'm sill sitting in the library at 1:50 am. And I was going to go back to my room but there's people downstairs so what did I do I went back to the library and now they're all jsut wondering where I am all week because they haven't seen me in days I do know names but I can't match some of the faces because I struggle with that I don't like being teased like 3 days ago one kf them asked if I know their names this isn't primary school ITS ALL S FUCKING STUPID I haven't used to my voice often enough i was literally going to cry on Friday because that was the first time I had people around me that week and it was nice to hang out and I'm just sad because my best friend hasn't even talked with me that much and he lives opposite me so now I'm panicking that a friendship of 7 years has gone to waste even though it was perfectly fine before move in I've literally been talking to my other friends back home more than i have been talking to people here and I want to attend the daytime events even but then I end up changing my mind last second what if went to the other uni the friends I've made are so nice though I just wish I lived in their flat instead we ordered pizza and we played smash bros so it was fun they don't all live in the same building they're spread out I was worried i wouldn't have anyone to get a 2nd year house with but they probably will because they're in the same kind if situation as me and anyway I was going to throw out the food yesterday something is blocking me from going inside the kitchen I even was meant to do the laundry because I'm running out of clothes too wear on the daily but did I do that? No and at the start I did keep my room clean but now it's all messy again I have to psyche myself up to go to the bathroom even though it's right next to my door so yes it is getting bad again

[amunyan]

"So... was that a kiss under the mistletoe yesterday or not?" you ponder as you look at your faithful companion this Christmas season; your bucket list. "Or is the better question here whether it was really a kiss or just something else? Like an accident?"

Leaning back in your office chair, you try to pinch and hold your pen between your nose and upper lip, only managing to do so for just long enough before the tinkling of your laptop disturbs you.

Fearing it might be your boss, calling you, you immediately stop fiddling and grab your headset. But when you see the initials DU in the small TEAMs call window on your screen, you breathe a sigh of relief. "Praise the Lord, it's just her.

You click on the green phone icon to answer the call, and a slightly over-enthusiastic Dorothy greets you with "Good morning!"

"Good morning, or almost time for lunch. You're late! And where are you?" you greet her, "I missed you at the station this morning."

"Sorry - Nozel has a bad case of the flu." She explains. "That's why I'm working from home today."

"I missed you yesterday too," you add, a little offended. "I thought we were all going to the Christmas market. You didn't even cancel." Pouting, you look at the camera on your laptop, but you can also imagine that her flatmate, boyfriend, lover - whatever Nozel is to her - was already sick the other day. So you're not really angry with her. And she knows that.

"Sorry about that. But like I said, Nozel got sick on Saturday night. But it got worse yesterday. He got such a high fever that we even had to go to the hospital.

"Oh dear. That sounds terrible."

She just nods. "But after he got some medicine - and a few hours later - he was as good as new. He just needs to rest for the next few days and I will take care of him. At least for today. Our boss hasn't given me another day. I tried, after I came home with my patient from his family doctor, to have him checked again and get a sick note for his work. But Kira-Clover was not amused by my suggestion to work from home all week. Luckily, I am allowed to work from home today..."

She gave an exaggerated ironic smile before she sighed exhaustedly and asked you about your weekend. "Was it as shitty as mine or better?"

"Well, it started with me getting into a fight with a drunk man at the Christmas party and waking up in Mereoleona's bed on Saturday. And well... That was just the beginning..."

"What, you were with your crush?" Now your friend is awake again. "Tell me everything! And dare you to let something out".

So you tell her about the Christmas party, about your morning at Mereoleona's apartment, and when you finally get around to telling her about Sunday and your more or less spontaneous date at the Christmas market, your boss calls. For real this time.

"Shit... What does he want from me now? Dorothy - I'll call you back!"

Quickly you answer the call from your boss, who orders you to come to his office…

Back at your desk, you notice that it is already half past twelve. You let out a deep sigh and head for the office kitchen to get your lunch.

Returning to your office, you call Dorothy again to apologise for your sudden departure. But she just shrugs it off and wants to know what was wrong. So you tell her...

"Wait? He really gave you all this stupid work that his secretaries are supposed to do?" She shouts in anger, and somewhere in the background Nozel shouts that he wants to sleep...

"Yes - he even made me show up at his office."

"And his personal servants? He even has three of them?"

"One is ill, the other two have other work to do. Getting the company ready for Christmas..." you list.

"Is he serious?!"

"Yes, I thought so too. Not only is he late, but more importantly, for what? There are no clients who have come to see us in our office. Besides - we don't even have a Christmas party!"

"I see... we do have different priorities," Dorothy adds casually. "But can you handle the extra work? It is not little!"

You nod, but even you have to admit it is a lot of work. "I wonder why he asked me?" You are not seriously asking that. You have a pretty good idea why he did it. "But Marx will tell me exactly what to do after lunch. We have to have all this work done by the 20th of December and present it to your department.

"If you need any help, just let me know."

But you winked with your mouth full. "All right. Ah... hot..."

"Curry?"

"Curry," you reply, claiming to have been interrupted. "So, let me tell you about Sunday!"

Again Sunday, 8th of December (Your POV)

"It's snowing," Charmy said happily. "Finally!"

"Let's hope it doesn't melt again before Christmas," Finral added, and Vanessa and I nodded in agreement. "That would be another item on my list to cross off. A snowy Christmas."

We walked over to the small stalls behind the car park in front of the castle, where we showed our tickets and entered the festively decorated castle grounds.

"Wow," Vanessa marvelled. "It's really cosy in here. They really managed to make everything look extremely kitschy, but not over the top. Really vintage."

For me, the decor was a little too old-fashioned, but that was part of the charm of the castle. Like a little lost world. The pine trees that lined the paths between the wooden huts were decorated with simple fairy lights and straw stars. An old children's merry-go-round had been set up in the large square where our little group had entered the market, and if you followed the wrought-iron signs through the area, you would come across a second children's ride. It would be a locomotive, as a symbol on it indicated. There was also a craft market where you could not only buy things, but also watch them being made.

While Vanessa and I were still admiring the decorations, Charmy had pulled out a big list; the girl was prepared.

 "I have a list of all the food available here. And more importantly; where exactly."

"And she says I go too far with my list," I muttered in Finrals' direction, who let out a suppressed laugh. But Charmy was already on her way. Vanessa had just managed to convince her that we should at least take a walk around the market before getting some food. "Hey, (Y/N)! Come to the fun part! I thought you were going with your crush? Not that I don't like your friends - just get to the part where you meet her!" Your colleague interrupts.

"Yeah, yeah - I get it. I just wanted to tell you how nice it was there! And all the interesting stalls. From a mysterious medieval fortune teller selling precious stones, to an old blacksmith selling really pretty decorations, to another stall selling real beeswax candles and honey, traditional bakery stalls, to... "

"You know, I've been going every year for a while now..." Dorothy interrupts you again, "They haven't really changed the concept..."

You look silently into the camera for a moment, then just sigh. "Good - my lunch break is not long enough to tell you everything..."

Dorothy nods satisfied.

"I've been looking at my phone the whole time. Not only was I worried about you, but I didn't really set a time with Mereoleona for that day, or even a place to meet. We just agreed to text each other when we got there.

You notice Dorothy rolling her eyes and your clear voice.

"Anyway... after we had gone for a walk around the area, we split up to get some hot drinks and something to eat. While I was in charge of getting three non-alcoholic mulled wines and one alcoholic for Vanessa, I met Mereoleona's brother, Fuegoleon".

"(Y/N)? Are you here too?" his smile was as sweet as ever. "How are you after Friday night? I was worried..."

"Fuegoleon?! Hi there. Oh, don't worry - your sister took good care of me. And today I only drink children's punch."

"Better that way. But I see - you look as good as ever."

"And you're as sweet as ever - old charmer."

"And yet I know you like my sister more than me. But are you here alone?" He looked at the single mug of alcoholic drink I had already got for Vanessa. "If you like, you can join us. Mereoleona and Leo are saving one of the few standing tables for us," he said, pointing vaguely in that direction.

"So, and here are the three non-alcoholic mulled wines," the saleswoman said as she put the remaining cups on the counter and I paid her. At that moment I could see a little disappointment in Fuegoleon's eyes. "Oh, if that's the case, you can meet your friends."

"Oh, don't worry. If it is ok, my friends would join us too. I wanted to meet your sister anyway. And I owe her some mulled wine after she paid for my drinks on Friday."

With a wink I paid for the three drinks Fuegolen had ordered and joined them at the big table.

"Hello you two," I greeted the other Vermillions and Mereoleona replied: "You are fast. Not even five minutes ago I texted you that we'd be here if you wanted to meet."

We exchanged a few shy glances - or at least I was a bit shy - before I looked for Vanessa and the others, who then joined us. Even though it was snowing, it was quite warm in this big group. So... I soon took off my headband and put it on the table in front of me. It was a bit too big, though, and it kept slipping down over my eyes.

Only Charmy was still browsing the market. Somewhere in the distance, pop Christmas music was playing that didn't quite fit in with the rest of the atmosphere. Unfortunately, we could hear it quite clearly as there was an uneasy silence around the table - the two groups did not really know each other. It was only when Charmy arrived, who has no real reservations about meeting new people, that things really got lively. Everyone at the table tried the snacks and Charmy made a list of who liked what, turning it into one big taste test for our blog. We took lots of photos of ourselves and the food and it was a fun evening.

You still smile a little. Not that it was anything special, but it felt that way that night. Surrounded by the fairy lights and the cosy atmosphere, you felt so close to Mereoleona. Not just physically, you were standing right next to her. "But things got a bit weird when I met an old friend of mine - Yami. We have known each other since our school days. He also helped me move here because he has been living here in Clover City for a while. But I hadn't expected to meet him. It was when we were going home and I wanted to return the cups for the deposit..."

"(Y/N)?! Is that you? How are you? I didn't expect to see you here."

"Yami? Me neither. What are you doing here?"

"She brought me here." He gestured to the side, and as I looked past him I saw a blonde woman, very nicely dressed, standing very close to him, holding his arm. I knew then that he had a date.

"Hello, my name is Charlotte," she introduced herself politely.

"She seems nice, but also a bit... I don't know. Like a fish, a bit slippery. You can't really get close to her," you describe her to Dorothy. "Anyway, we chatted for a few minutes - and got some kind of murderous looks from his companion, and probably from Mereoleona too.

"Are you here with your friends or on a date?"

"More or less... also; both. Either way?" I had no idea. I gestured with my fingers in a similarly confused way.

"You have no idea, I see," he laughed.

"Well." I turned briefly to show my friends. "You know Charmy, Vanessa and Finral. I came here with them, and the other three are friends of mine too. I know them from the fighting club."

"I know them too. Leopold is in my gym class. So I know his older siblings well too. At least his brother. His sister is much too scary."

"Really?" I looked at him in surprise. I had no idea that Leo was in his class. But Yami continued, "And you dream of a date with the redheaded beauty, don't you?" He gestured towards Fuegoleon, but you shook your head. "More with his sister." I admitted in a whisper.  "But I don't know if she'd go out with me or not... no idea."

He laughed again and said something like I would never change my interests. "But I think she likes you too. That would explain why she just gave me such a mean look," Yami said with a shrug. "I wouldn't want to mess with her..."

"What?"

I was about to turn around to check his statement when I felt someone put their arms around me from behind. I recognised those arms and that warm feeling. Her spicy scent. But I had never felt them so close before.

"Mereo...?!"

"Don't get too close to her, Mister Sports Teacher," she looked at Yami, trying to act cool. But I could tell from her hug that she was not okay with it.

"Don't worry," Yami defended himself. "We're just old friends. And I have a girl of my own." He moved closer to Charlotte to make his point.

"Better for you. But she is my prey..."

"I don't know how she got my headband so quickly. Even if what happened next was part of her plan. But she pulled my headband back on, I looked up in surprise, the stupid thing slipped back over my eyes and she kissed me on the forehead. Maybe she was trying to hit the material of my headband, but she ended up kissing me. And once again she pulled me into a warm hug and looked at Yami with an annoyed look on her face. It was as if she wanted to tell my friend to stay away from me, but... yes. That was our Sunday..."

"Hey, that's kind of cute. Even if she is a bit terretorial, she really likes you. There's more to come. And... oh..." Dorothy stops and looks past you, then makes an apologetic face.

"Hm? What is it?"

"(Y/N)?!" That was Marx's voice. Shocked, you turn around.

The diminutive secretary of the currently ill boss was standing in your office. Luckily the door was closed behind him.

"It's nice that you have a sweetheart, but we really need to get started. Now."

"How much have you heard, Marx?"

"Enough. But now come on!"

You look at your watch and think you just missed your lunch break. But Marx is on time, so you say goodbye to Dorothy and are about to go through the files with your colleague when your mobile phone vibrates. A message from Vanessa that does not bode well:

Call me asap! The problem with the electrics is even worse than we thought and the technician who came to our house today gave us super bad news...

[floralandfailing]

I'm being retrospective

This is a long post ig, just some weird thoughts that I cycle through recently

I've been at University for 2 months now, maybe almost 3, since October pretty much. Beyond my surprise, I actually adjusted to such a big change really quickly, and easily. University is a much better place for me compared to how I was at secondary school, and especially how I was at sixth form (high school). But my anxiety still gets the best of me, I guess, no matter how much I thought I was improving.

I live with 5 other people, all my age, one of which I'm moving in with next year (September) so it's safe to say I get along with these people. I'd consider them my friends, more so than the people I talk to in my classes. I'm happy, glad, that I have them in my life. From what I hear from others, it's rare to get along with everyone you live with - and yeah I've got major issues with them sometimes, cleaning the kitchen etc, that makes me want to pull my hair out, but I like them. They're my friends. It's a running joke that November/December at uni is when everything starts falling apart and when people get irritated or fucked off about everything, and I'd say that's true. In the past week alone I've felt isolated again for the first time in a while. It's entirely by my own doing. I'm the one who's chosing to hole up in my room and to skip lectures when they're at 6pm at night. It gets harder knowing that I'm living with...strangers.

Living with people is hard. Living with teenagers is worse, we're all 18/19 and immature. Last night we all stayed up until 3am playing with lego and doing room tours with each other for the 100th time. We get along, but I keep feeling like we don't. I keep wanting to not talk to them, to get pissy when someone does something that bothers me. Half of them bring their boyfriends/girlfriends around most days of the week, and having so many people in the flat freaks me out. It's weird for me to be around people so much. I've known my best friend for almost 10 years, but I've never lived with her and I think our friendship is stronger because of it. Now I do live with someone else who I value and regard highly, I see her and speak to her every day but not because I seek it out, because she's on the other side of my bedroom wall. I keep thinking she hates me tbh. Out of all my flatmates, I think she's the one who could easily start to hate me.

I'm not suited to being around so many people. I have 2 very close friends, maybe 3ish more who I like being around outside of the first 2. I don't like big groups, and I'm moving in with 6 new people next year (most of which I haven't met). I'm just constantly in this state of overthinking everything I do, what I wear or what jokes I say, and there's no "down time'" for it. I had to do the same at school, but at the end of the day I got to go home and not think because I lived with my family - I don't have to put a performance on for them, they know I'm weird it doesn't scare me. 2/3 months into uni and I'm exhausted by living with people.

It used to be worse i guess. I used to think everyone hated me constantly, now it's more like a quarter of the time. But it hits me like a ton of bricks when it creeps up. There's the added pressure of "I can't let them hate me, I have to live with them" which stems from... identity issues??

I'm the only queer person. Not just in the flat, in the whole friend group I've curated here. No one I talk to in my classes is openly/out queer, I can't be myself in the same way I could back home. 2 of my flatmates know I'm trans, but the process of coming out feels entirely different with them. It doesn't feel like I've done it at all really. I can't make silly little trans jokes, I can't say "I'm gay" as a stupid automatic response anymore without getting questioned. University was meant to be this place where I could be more open, be more of myself, but I keep finding myself retreating even further inside myself. My flatmates don't really know much about me, despite how much we share with each other, and I'd suppose it's the same way around. It feels like so much of my teen years were over cast with the knowledge that I was depressed/ill all the time and my friends back home knew how to deal with that, but here these new friends don't know that. They don't know how I act when I need help, and I don't know how to tell them. They don't know how violent my anxiety can get, and I don't know how to explain it to them.

I am happier at University, the happiest I've been in a very long time. But every time I think I'm getting better, I end up crashing. I get worse.

[space-blue]

So, I think it may be time for me to explain the situation regarding the poll

It's a bit of a weird one, bear with me... I have a friend who is Polish. She was in New Zealand recently, dating a very sweet boy, and had a major cold shower moment when he served her some 'Lenin who??'

As you can imagine, Lenin is a bit of a critical figure for the world, but especially Poles. Now I'm French, so we're also deeply embroiled into the whole birth of communism, red scare, WWII and all that jazz. I definitely learned about him at school, and then later on again, in my own time.

We were discussing this, and how the then-boyfriend excused himself by saying the NZ school system isn't great and simply never taught him. Of course we were discussing whether there wasn't also a lack of curiosity, as any half decent video on the events of WWII or communism will at least touch base with Lenin, but hey, maybe he's just not that famous outside Europe.

Still, I was doubting this argument and thinking this may be this guy's case more than a kiwi thing. And well, I live in a hostel, so at any given time I have about 50 flatmates/fellow staff from all around the world, not counting the guests who come and go. As we were having this conversation there was a kiwi staff with me in the room, so I took the time to ask!

It went like this:

- Hey, Cody! Do you know who Lenin is? - Lenin? - Yeah, Lenin. - You don't mean John Lennon? - No I mean Vladimir Lenin. - Nah, I don't know. - Okay, erm, Marx? - Nope. - Karl Marx?? Marxism? Das Kapital? - What is that? - (with considerable distress) You know about communism, right?

And yeah, he did, but I was shook. Our sample of kiwis not knowing about Lenin (and worse) was a stark 2/2, so we needed to broaden things.

I roamed the hostel, asking people if they knew about Lenin. And the results were NOT GREAT, but we saw a pattern emerge in which countries didn't know him: Kiwis and Aussies were doing the worst, by far. Meanwhile, Europeans who I truly assumed had 3 neurons rattling in their hollow craniums—this targeted mostly at a pack of young, loud, and billiard obsessed Spanish boys—all immediately were like 'Lenin, yeah, of course I know him.'

THEN I was watching The Last Of Us with another friend who is aware of the debacle, and he broached the topic of... fucking the infected.... and whether rule 34 had covered that, and also, because this is a very ace conversation, whether I thought you could get a yeast infection from that.

He then clarified his question by mansplaining yeast infections to me, a vagina haver.

So I snapped back that yes, thank you, I'm aware yeast is fungal, and we started arguing on whether or not people even know what YEAST is (tbf in French the words for bread yeast, yeast infection, and yeast in the wild are all different)

My friend suggested we poll the hostel crowd, and I retorted we were a dire sample of uneducated weirdos and would totally skew the results, using the 'who is Lenin' event as an example.

So we decided to make a poll for each question. You can see the yeast one here. My friend expected at least 50% of respondent to the yeast poll to think yeast is a bacteria (shockingly close)

Meanwhile I thought, and I quote, "I'd disrespect someone not knowing that cuz yeast be universal, so is bread"

And I was hit back by:

So yes, we decided to ran BOTH polls, to see how bad things were, and how we can rate our local group of weirdos at the hostel against the wider (and arguably biased and left leaning) strangers of tumblr.

I didn't expect this to blow up at all! But I'm deeply reassured you all know your history.

Shame on the kiwi education system!

So something happened and I need to know... Please indulge me!

If you could reblog for sample it'd be appreciated.

[emaster875]

Poison Ivy.

"Ugh, I'm so itchy! I should never have gone on that stupid case with you!" He told Sherlock, trying not to scratch his arms and legs which were covered with the red rash that came with poison ivy.

"I didn't force you to come!" Sherlock said as he not so subtly itched his own poison ivy reaction from the opposite end of the sofa.

"Sherlock, don't scratch it, it will only make it worse!"

"But it's so itchy!" Sherlock all but whined.

"I'm the doctor here, you have to do what I say! You got us into this mess. I'm going to make sure we don't get any infections."

"Oh come on, you can't tell me you don't want to itch all over right now. Imagine how good it will feel, imagine the relief of just a little scratch." 

He could imagine it. How good it would feel just to itch and be done with it…

No! He can't though because as a doctor he knew how bad a poison ivy infection could be and he wasn't going to let him or his obnoxious flatmate get one.

"No, Sherlock!"

"Are you sure?" Sherlock asked and leaned over and scratched his shoulder.

He had a particularly bad case of poison ivy there (which Sherlock had of course deduced) and finally, the itch being itched felt amazing. Of course, it made him want to scratch himself even more now which wasn't helping.

"I bet that felt amazing, John," Sherlock said, smirking knowing exactly what he had done.

"Oh, yeah?" He challenged and gave a quick scratch to Sherlock's leg where he knew he also had a bad case of poison ivy.

"God, that feels amazing," He moaned.

"It's supposed to be payback."

"Well if all I have to do to get you to do that again then fine!" Sherlock said and started to scratch him all over (careful of course to not break skin because that's how infection starts).

"Oh, God!" He groaned and began to scratch Sherlock's back.

"Mmm, oh John, oh!" Sherlock called out after he had scratched an especially itchy spot.

"You like that, don't you?"

"Yes, I do, I so do! Don't stop, please don't ever stop!" He called out.

…

After he and Sherlock had had their one-time-only scratching session Mrs. Hudson had come over an hour later with the calamine lotion she had promised to bring over when she had the chance.

"Congratulations boys, I always knew you two would end up together!" She said, smiling kindly.

"I'm sorry what?" He asked, confused.

"Well if you wanted it to be a secret then you should probably have tried to at least keep it down. The whole building probably knows." She said and gave them a wink.

"What do y-" Sherlock started to say but then went bright red.

"Oh my gosh, Mrs. Hudson, no, that's not what we were doing we can explain you see-"

She just held up a hand "It's fine, dearies. We get all sorts of types around here." She said, "I'll leave you two to it," and then she left the flat leaving a pair of thoroughly embarrassed men behind.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ik some one has probably done something like this but idc. It's 2 am, and I have poison Ivy on my face, arms, and legs. I couldn't care if I tried.

[theroomofreq]

can you give me muggle jily recs pleaaseeee <3 :D

HOW MANY HIGH-QUALITY MUGGLE JILY FICS ARE THERE?? TOO MANY TO COUNT. *cracks knuckles* BUT I am here for the challenge. Jily AUs are my JAM.

Again, shoutout to our amazing @jilyarchive friends who tag every wonderful muggle jily au they come across. here is the link that will take you to their tags page. You'll find links to specific tropes and AUs :')

I've searched through my own AO3 bookmarks and history tabs, and I present to you 28 jily muggle fics that I LOVE. I am THRILLED thinking about all the good things in store for those that read these wonderful stories. This list took me ages to make because I went through and reread most of these brilliant fics. Happy reading !! xx

properly improper by @lizardcookie

“Marry me,” Mr. Potter repeats, closing the distance between them by striding back up towards the sofa, only to stop and crouch to one knee right there at her feet, looking up at her. Burning. “Pick me,” he elaborates. “Pick me, choose me, love me instead.”

- this fic is the reason why I comment the way that I do (spoiler it's because it's amazing)

The Wedding Ring by @mppmaraudergirl

What is undeniably worse than attending your sister's wedding looking as desolate and forgotten as a wilted houseplant? Drunkenly ringing your ex-boyfriend and asking him to be your date.

- SOBS UNCONTROLLABLY AT THE PERFECTION

Oh my god, they were ROOMMATES by @magic-girl-in-a-muggle-world

Silly one-shot, Muggle AU with Fem!Jily as pining roommates and Marlene as their matchmaker.

- the fic that brought me back to jily and inspired my deep obsession of fem!jily

Swipe Right, Swing Left by @downn-in-flames

The unspoken rule of using dating apps in D.C. is that you always start with where you work.

James Potter, it seems, never picked up on that one.

- giddy just thinking about this gem

'Tis the Damn Season by @petalstofish

It doesn't feel like Christmas for Lily Evans, not after losing her parents to COVID before the Holiday season. She anticipates spending Christmas all alone until a boy from her past shows up and offers her a mutually benefiting deal that has her calling him 'babe' just for the weekend. 'Tis the damn season, after all.

- cries in respect for lyrical writing

Watch Me Unwind by @maraudersftw

Lily Evans hates her job, hates the bigoted customers she has to serve as a bartender at the richest club in the city. But the one person who makes bearing all of it worth it has someone else in his arms tonight. (Rated: M)

- obsessed with the way the plot jumps around the time line in this

oil be there for you by @abby10fanfic

Texting/Social Media AU: Lily and James haven't spoken for 2 years. But that's all about to change thanks to Peter and his involvement in an essential oil pyramid scheme. Featuring boss babes, toxin-free lifestyles, binding contracts, and a very oily journey.

- YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE HOW FAB THIS IS

a matchmaking mission by @downn-in-flames

James Potter has a mission: get Sirius Black and Remus Lupin to finally admit that they both fancy the pants off each other by Valentine's Day.

His partner in crime? Lily Evans, Remus' flatmate, who he also happens to be slightly in love with

- DOUBLE the amount of pining idiots in love :")

about time by @jilyss

'sure, yeah, I can accompany you to that black tie event for your work tonight. wait. why are we on a red carpet?'

- this is my emotional comfort fic, your honor

whiskey business by @elanev91

Sirius Black has a (bad?) habit of picking up hobbies that take over his and James' flat -- this most recent one? Homemade vodka that James now has to try and peddle to everyone in the building.

- hysterical! must read!

Fashion Disaster by @maraudersftw

James Potter is roped into an awful dare by his best-mate, which involves him wearing atrocious pieces of clothing for all days until Christmas as dictated by Sirius. If this wasn't terrible enough, he now has to contend with his maddening crush on the beautiful saleswoman at the clothing store.

- classic hijinks that I live for

it wasn't a pity invite by @elanev91

Part of the December "Winter Tropes" Jily challenge. Prompt: my family invites you to join our holiday meal as an obvious setup and omG i’m so sorry

- awkward Christmas date that owns my heart

spice and honey by @clare-with-no-i

tagging along with her food reporter sister to profile James Potter, London's hottest young chef, is not how Lily Evans pictured her Monday going - especially if he's anything like Petunia’s described.

needless to say, she's in for a whirlwind at Chez Maraudeur.

- I'm one re-read away from printing this out and putting it on my bookshelf.

Waffle Wars by @elanev91

There's only one waffle maker in the dining hall and it literally always breaks. So, naturally, the only reasonable course of action is to meticulously map out when it's working and, ultimately, do a heist.

- the witty narration in this fic can not be matched

You Can Hear It In The Silence by @alrightginger

Lily is non-verbal and deaf in a world where the things your soulmate says about you end up written on your skin. She has known about her soulmate since she was seven, but knows they don't have a clue she exists and possibly never will.

- exquisite, cue me sobbing forever

out the window by @displayheartcode

A new family moves to Ottery St Catchpole.

- everything I could ever want in a fic, forever in my mind rent free

The Christmas Guest by @thegodmachine

An Evans Family Christmas: Petunia is bringing her fiancé and Lily is bringing her…Friend…

- petunia pov that gives me WINGS

Football, Calculus, and Cappuccinos by @moonawrites

At eighteen years old, James Potter has a lot going on. He's a rising star navigating the politics of professional football, the pitfalls of sudden fame, the fallout from choosing his dream over his father's company... and a serious crush on the red headed new barista at his favourite coffee shop.

- I'm still working my way through this fic, but trust me when I say its a GEM

if u like pina coladas by @zephyrcove

Lily is desperate for a date to Petunia's wedding, James has been pining, and their friends meddle ;)

- explain to me how characters can be so perfect via texting fics?

Shelf Awareness by @ghostofbambifanfiction

It's too far out of her way and she's wasting so much money, but Lily can't help but return to the bookstore every weekend, where her passion for good literature has, perhaps, been unexpectedly reignited by the messy-haired, pun-making, rather handsome bloke who works there.

- you absolutely must know that I binge read this and then immediately REREAD it

How to win a witch in 10 days by @adenei

“She’s going to find some unsuspecting wizard, get him to fall for her, and then do all the things that turn men away to get him to break things off! Won’t it be the best way to see what witches do that drives men crazy?” But what happens when the man in question is a blast from Lily Evans's past? A Jily Magical AU based on the romantic comedy "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days."

- fic based off of a rom com? YES PLZ :’)

The Fight Before Christmas by @ghostofbambifanfiction

The heartwarming Christmas tale of Lily Evans and James Potter - two plucky kids who hated one other, until the day they really, really didn't.

- complete sucker for this one

All This Time by @thejilyship

James and Lily grew up next door to one another. Their bedroom windows giving them glimpses into the others life, and also offering prime opportunities to argue with each other over every little thing. They never figured out how to be friends when they were kids, but now that they've graduated from college and are home for the summer, they have a second chance to get things right.

- one of my favvvv tropes

Let Me Love You by @thejilyship

With only a month until she's set to take the throne of Gryffindor, Lily is informed that she'll have to get married or choose to give up her throne. She never thought she'd have to even entertain the idea of an arranged marriage. Enter, James Potter.

- cries in princess diares AU

The Fabulous Baker Brothers by @frustratedpoetwrites

Lily walks a different route home from work and stumbles upon a cute little Bakery with an even cuter baker in the window.

- yes yes yes to embarrassed pining.

Marigold Mornings by @mppmaraudergirl

This is a fun game she thinks, as she removes her hand from his side and reaches up to run it down his chest.  He catches her hand in his own, takes a step forward so that her nose nearly brushes against his shirt. She can feel the heat radiating off of him—or maybe it’s from her. He licks his lips and her eyes are drawn to the motion.  She knows it is a bad idea, absolutely knows it.

- incredible storytelling featuring dynamic characters :') a favvv

Welcome to Pettyville by@women-inthe-sequel @alrightginger

When Lily Evans accidentally sends a text to the wrong number, she isn’t expecting to find the right person behind it. She can’t stop talking to Prongs. The only thing is, Prongs can’t stop talking about the girl in his class. What could go wrong, other than the number?

- LOVE SQUARE ANYONE

The Kiss a Stranger Project by @alrightginger

“What’s your name, then?” she asks, realizing they haven’t even properly introduced themselves yet. She nervously crosses her arms.

You shouldn’t kiss a guy without knowing his name first.

Right?

- THIS ONE WILL LIVE IN MY MIND FOREVER

[lollypopsx]

Flatmate!Harry: I'll Make It Up To You - Part 2

Please like if it’s not too shabby, reblog for anyone who may enjoy this and follow if you want to see more! Any suggestions are happily taken for future writing! I love you all! be safe and be kind x

Warnings: Hints of depression and anxiety

Part 1 - Part 3

—————————

Days had passed since the audition, and while you were sat on your laptop every hour searching for new jobs, new projects, more auditions and pure hope of some miracle, you couldn't help but starting to feel like you were failing slightly.

You liked to write happy songs and create stories using your music, but you were finding it harder to find the inspiration. Usually you and Harry would sit and talk ideas for hours, but since he made you miss your audition, you were distant from him, it was only the last day or two that you had been getting slowly back to normal.

Every day since the incident when Harry came home after working at the studio, he would open the curtains to make sure you had fresh air and daylight after cooping yourself up on the sofa all day, in the dimly lit living room. Not only that, he would check the cupboards, fridge and the sink to check that you were eating enough. He had seen you stressed and upset before. He had been there through some difficult moments in your life, and had always been your rock throughout the years, especially when your mental health was struggling during these times. But this time was worse. He couldn't help being concerned for someone he loved and cared for.

"Hey pumpkin..." He whispers softly, settling himself down beside you after completing his daily routine "Have you done much today?" he gently combs his fingers through your hair before dropping his arm round your shoulders.

You just sigh softly, looking ahead blankly at the quiet TV, simply shaking your head. If only he could see what was going on in that pretty mind of yours then maybe he could make everything better.

"I see you used the piano and the guitar today though..." he states, although it came out more like a question.

Minutes of silence filled the room until out of the blue, some words left your lips. "...Adam came to get the ring today" you whisper, feeling the tears brim your eyes once again, for what felt like the millionth time today.

"Oh darling" He frowns, pulling you into his chest tightly, just like he did the night you found out your (now ex-) boyfriend, Adam, was cheating on you. Unfortunately, you happened to find out minutes before he proposed to you, in front of all of your friends, including Harry. You didn't know what to do, so you took the ring, said you'd think about it and you left him standing alone. This all happened months ago, and you really thought that you was totally over it.

"Everything that's happened this week...I-I just...I feel like such a failure Haz. It just feels like I...I-I'm falling...falling apart and nothings going right! Why isn’t anything going right! I can’t even write one stupid song that makes sense" you let out hard sobs as your hands fisted his clean white t-shirt.

"No...no, no, no don't say that...please don't ever say that." He frowns, pulling away from you, but still staying close. His warm hands press against your cheeks as he lifts your face gently "hey, hey look at me" he whispers, begging you to look at him.

Your sad wide eyes flickered up into his, gentle tears falling down your face. "I know...I know it's hard at the moment. But everything happens for a reason. And everything will get better...I know it will. Do you trust me?" He whispers, his eyes gazing deep into yours, almost like if he looked hard enough, he could read your mind.

You give a hesitant nod as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before wiping the tears dampening your cheeks. Being affectionate together wasn't anything unusual for the two of you, you really were the best of friends.

"I'll go make some dinner okay? Pasta sound good?" You just nod your head gently at him as he leaves your side. You let out a deep sigh and head over to the living room window, watching the sunrise beginning to set over the busy London town. "So...how's the studio going?" You ask him curiously, your gaze still at the window.

"I erm..." He clutters around in the kitchen. His job was a topic he had been avoiding for the last few days. He didn't want to rub it in that he was busy writing an album for millions of fans, who would be screaming his lyrics back to him all over the world in years to come. "It's...good. I mean, its tiring but I...yeah. It's good" He nods.

"H, you don't have to avoid it. I forgive you for what happened. I know you would never have done it out of spite...and you deserve your life style, you work hard!" You say as you head into the kitchen, re-filling the water in the vase on the table, your vibrant roses and lilies still looking as beautiful as the first day Harry bought them for you.

"You work hard too!" He frowns softly "Harry I don't think moping around on the sofa, drowning in my sorrows, is the definition of working hard" You let out a gentle chuckle.

"So...how's it really going?" You hop up onto the stool beside the kitchen counter.

"Well, we have 4 songs so far...and they are...different to the last album. I mean they reckon three of them will be on the pop charts...maybe even a number one slot there" He sighs softly.

"Oh wow, that does sound different to before...and you...don't want that?" You ask curiously, judging by the lack of excitement. "Well...it's not that. I just...it's hard to write another album when the last one did well, and you have to make sure it's better than the last one." He sighs softly as he cooks. "They want me to write some slower, more emotional songs. I just can't...well the words don't fit right. I'm just not feeling emotional about anything, so I don't know where to get the emotion from"

"Well you can't put a price on emotion Haz, you can't just go and buy it in Gucci. You have to really feel it. Even if you aren't thinking about something specific or direct to you. I used to find that sometimes when I was trying to write, I'd create these characters in my head, and I'd give them all these different stories and personalities. And I...I used that to really help me write music. It's not easy." You explain while getting two of the plates from the cupboard and pouring two drinks for the table.

"You used to? You mean you don't use that method anymore?" He asks curiously, while giving the pasta one final stir.

"I...I think I've decided that I'm not going to write music anymore" You shrug softly, your eyes unable to life to his. "I need a proper job. And things aren't going well with auditions lately and I make a total fool out of myself every time I go into a meeting. It's time I looked for a proper job. Besides, the price of bills in this house keeps going up and up."

"What?! Y/N you're so good at writing songs and music! You can't throw it all away now! That is your proper job. And I love hearing what you write, it inspires my own stuff!" He frowns, his brow furrowing, trying to understand you. "Think of all the songs no one will get to hear"

"No one hears them anyway...It's different now. The entertainment industry is changing more and more by the day. Maybe the stuff I write just isn't as trendy anymore." It was difficult for you to admit, but you knew you had to accept it.

"There's a fine line between us Styles, because the difference is, you're already there. You have the whole world in your hands Haz, you can go anywhere and do anything. You could sing a song to a fish and the whole world would be adored by you still! If I did something like that...I'd be laughed out of every interview, audition and meeting for the rest of my life. But we’ll be alright" You smile and shrug, your mood had certainly been hit and miss the last few days, but you knew you had to carry on with your life.

—————————

“Hey Y/N come here!” Harry calls from the living room. You were currently in your room, scrolling through your Instagram, while in a pasta coma after dinner. You rush over to the living room “What’s up?” You ask, seeing him sat at the gleaming white piano, which as always was sat under the window.

“What do you think?” He starts to play a few notes on the piano, looking between the scruffy paper notes cluttering the top of the piano and his hands. 

“Can’t put a price on emotion...it’s something that you just can’t buy...you...you’ve got my devotion...but....but” He sighs softly, playing around with the notes and the wording on his notes. 

You smile softly as you recognise his acknowledgment of your earlier conversation “...but man, I can hate you sometimes” you sing gently, testing to see how it could fit.

“Hey that’s mean! Why would you say that!” He fakes a pout up at you “I thought we- hey actually...you’re right! That really fits!” He chuckles, pulling you onto the stool beside him. “Can you try a G chord, B chord and....lets try a C...” You nod and smile as your fingers gloss over the keys effortlessly, while Harry fits the verse together and tries to find the right tempo.

“Wait...it doesn’t sound right. Maybe lets try a D instead of C?” You suggest as you re-try, playing those three chords over and over again.

“You...are...a genius!” He grins and wraps his arms around your waist. ”Keep going!” He smirks, pushing more lyrics in front of you. Sometimes having a fresh pair of eyes really helped...or perhaps he just wanted to prove that you had talent.

You peer down at the pages upon pages of words flooding your view. “...I don’t want to fight with you....and I...and I don’t like to sleep in the dark...we’ll get the drinks in...I...I can’t stop thinking of her...” 

Harrys fingers join yours at the piano “We’ll be a fine line....We’ll be a fine line...”He smiles softly as he taps on a few random keys. 

You pull your fingers away gently “It...your song sounds...really good H. It’s beautiful actually.”

 “You mean our song...” He whispers.

“Harry no, it’s your song, all the pieces, I just put your jigsaw together” You smile. “I know how it is writing songs and the first draft is never the same as the final version. You might decide to change it all completely” You whisper.

“Not with your lyrical genius ability and words of wisdom...your name will be all over this track” You felt a shock of electricity ripple through your veins as you felt his eyes burning into yours. His lips pressed gently against your forehead, lingering against your skin longer than usual. That sort of affection was normal from your best friend...so why did it just feel like something completely different? And what did he mean about my name being all over the track?

—————————

Tag List: @harryhoney-bee - @sunandherflores - @sad-capuccino

[interlunium-opus]

"I hate him spending time with you more than I hate running so you know, priorities." [ Jay. ]

[ Jay | fluff ]

Author’s Note: Here's a fluff in response to the following request "Can you maybe do a fluff/crack for Jay where maybe he felt a little jealous when you praised someone for their skill and he immediately goes competitive mode and openly tries to show how he's far better indirectly to the guy?" Hope it's close to what you have in mind and hope you like it :3

“Do you have anything to explain to me?”

You jumped, startled, as Jay appeared beside you while you were busy shoving your textbooks into your locker, “Jay! What did I say about sneaking up on people?”

“And what did I say about not keeping secrets between us?” Jay snapped back, arms crossed, brows raised, “Is this how much our friendship is worth?”

“My goodness, what is it this time?” You sighed as he fished his phone out of his pocket, turning it to show you a candid picture of you and Sunghoon from last night.

“I mean seriously, of all people to date, you have to go for this pretentious prick?” Jay scoffed before gesticulating wildly, “Look, I know I said that you need to stop being aromantic and start planting some sort romantic interest somewhere — but Sunghoon is just ain't it. In fact ! I’d rather you date the spawn of the devil, Jungwon, instead.”

You snorted a laugh before shaking your head dismissively, “Dude, we were just running last night okay? Does that even look like a date to you?”

“Okay,” he repeated sarcastically, “but you love running alone! So why are you suddenly running with someone — and not just anyone but this prick???”

“I really don’t get why you two hate each other so much,” you raised an eyebrow at Jay, “Look we just happened to bump into each other last night and since we were heading the same way, he asked if I don’t mind him tagging along for the remainder of the way — no big deal.”

“Ughh, that’s the oldest trick in book,” Jay scrunched his face, “And you said yes?”

“I mean — we’re not exactly strangers, we have been in the same tutorial class together for more than a year now," you mumbled as you zip your bag up, "He's a good running partner too. His pace was so stable and steady that it made me stuck to mine as well — I mean, duh, he's an athlete after all."

"Hey, I can run well too," Jay grumbled defensively, "You know if you needed a running partner, you could've called me right?"

“Maybe if you were as fit as I am, she would have,” Sunghoon suddenly appeared beside Jay, peering over his shoulder to look at the picture on his phone, “That’s a good picture of me and y/n — no wonder you got jealous.”

“Speak of the devil,” Jay rolled his eyes, “Aren't you a bit too greedy over what I have? first, you took up my spot for the dance competition and now you're trying to make a move on my girl."

"Jay, that was 2 years ago — get over it. You've taken my spot afterwards for the Summer competition anyway so we're actually even," Sunghoon retorted, "Also, she's not your girlfriend anyway so your territorial behaviour is pretty misplaced."

"Guys, cut it out," you shut your locker close with extra force in an effort to shut the squabbles, "Also, why am I suddenly dragged into your petty fights."

"Right sorry about that, he's just always trying to pick a fight with me," Sunghoon shook his head dismissively before turning to you and beamed, "Just stopping by to ask if you're running again tonight 'cause I would love to join again. It’s off season for ice-skating so I thought it's the perfect time to get back to running again."

“Oh? Yeah I am going tonight as well, just a tad bit late in the evening though. I want to finish up some work at the library first,” you smiled back at Sunghoon, ignoring Jay’s burning stare, “You know you can start ahead if you want — don’t want you waiting too long in case I'll take too much time at the library.”

“I’ll go when you go, don’t worry,” he reassured as he backed away, joining Heeseung who was waiting for him, “I’ll text you alright? Looking forward to tonight!”

You nodded and waved at him before turning to Jay, “What?”

“That’s it,” Jay clasped his hands together, “I’ll run with you tonight — and the next.”

“Jay, don’t be ridiculous, you hate running,” you emphasized, “which is why I never asked you to run with me.”

“Hey — I can love running if it’s for you,” he winked, wrapping an arm over your shoulders, dragging you past the crowded hallway towards your next class, “Or let me paraphrase: I hate him spending time with you more than I hate running so you know, priorities.”

“your priorities are all skewed then," you clicked your tongue, "Well, as long as you don't hurt yourself."

_________________________________________________________________________

The next morning however Jay did not show up in Modern Political Thought seminar that you guys have every Thursday morning. Though the guy is such a sleepyhead, he never misses a class even when he pulled up an all-nighter the night before. So this sudden absence, paired with the fact that he managed to run a whole 5km without stopping last night, was sowing seeds of suspicions and guilt within you. To make things worse, he did not even respond to any of your messages for the last 5 hours.

That was why you ended up being in front of Jay's apartment instead of having your lunch that noon. "Hi!" you immediately say as the door of Jay's apartment opened. It was Jake, his flatmate, with his lids only half-opened and hair all disheveled, "y/n?"

"Sorry for waking you up Jake," you smiled apologetically, "Is Jay home? He missed a Politics seminar this morning and he didn’t respond to my text at all — just wanna make sure he’s alright.”

“mmhmm, pretty sure he’s in," he answered drowsily before yawning, "but probably, still hibernating.”

“Oh okay, do you mind if I come in?”

Jake nodded, backing up as he held the door open, “Of course, come in — it’s messy though.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassured, making your way towards the room at the end of the hallway. As you knocked on his door, Jake suddenly shouted from the kitchen, “don’t bother knocking y/n — that guy sleeps like a log. Just go in.”

“Uhh…” you bit your lip, slightly hesitating but relented when your subsequent knocks yielded no answer.

“Jay? I’m entering okay?” you say as you let yourself in, carefully navigating around the dark room, stumbling a few times against some random furnitures.

"Jake, get out okay-" you hear him grumble from underneath the covers, tossing the other way, "just let me... sleep mo..re."

As you neared his bed, you reached over to his bedside table and turned on the lamp. Suddenly, Jay rose from the covers, his hand gripping your wrist, grunting "Jake what did I just say-"

Trailing off, he looked at you with brows furrowed in a mix of annoyance and confusion, before his expressions gradually soften "y/n?"

"dude, you almost gave me a heart attack," you muttered, sighing exasperatedly.

"Sorry, I thought it was Jake trying to disturb me again," he softened his grip and rubbed your wrist as if he had just hurt it, "Did I hurt you?"

"My heart, almost but my hand is fine," you pulled your hand away, "How about you?"

"What about me?"

"You missed class this morning," you crossed your arms.

"It's just one class, no big deal. I just overslept-"

"Is that all?" you raised an eyebrow before pointing at the crumpled muscle relief patch packs and pain relief creams strewn messily across his bedside table, "Did someone overexert himself last night?"

"Fine, I didn't come to class partly because my legs are sore," he shrugged, "but hey, I ran as much as Sunghoon did! Aren't you proud of me?"

"Not if it's at the cost of your legs!" you replied exasperatedly, "Come on, where is the rational Jay that I know? he wouldn't have let his competitiveness and ego cloud his judgements like this."

"It's just normal post-workout sore, I've had it a couple of times before," he reassured, "Also, I may hate running. But I'm actually good at HIIT and strength training so I'm not all that unfit as you think I am. Or he thinks."

"All that just so you can prove him wrong?"

"No of course not, I couldn't care less about him," he huffed, "I just wanted you to know that I can pace well with you too."

"Jay, that does not make it any better-"

"Probably also to convince you that I make a better running partner than Sunghoon," he sniggered.

"Well, guess what, you can't run if your legs are hurt," you quipped.

"Oh shit, that's true," he muttered under his breath, "Well post-workout sore usually last between 3-7 days so I'll be good as new after that. Running partners?" he stretched his hand out as if asking for a handshake.

You sighed, grabbing his outstretched hand, shaking it as if you guys are signing on a pact, "Only if you promise not to overexert yourself next time."

"Promise," his smile widened, "Have you had lunch? I'll cook something up for you."

"Your legs are hurt though."

"They're sore not hurt," Jay emphasized, scooting to the edge of his bed, "Also even if they are hurt, I cook with my hands not legs so..."

You chuckled, "Well sir, if you insists."

"Of course, wouldn't let my girl go out of this house famished," he wrapped an arm over your shoulder, grinning gleefully.

[jenojaemssss]

dazed and confused

pairing: jeong jaehyun x gn!reader

genre/categories: angst, college!au, frat boy!jaehyun, a bit of fluff

word count: 3.6k (this was literally supposed to be a drabble wtf)

warnings: mentions of sex, allusions of sex yk the vibes, oh and a lot of cursing 'cause i lack the ability to keep language below 14+

synopsis: jaehyun isn’t scared of heights. he isn’t afraid of roller coasters that dropped at those terrifying heights. but he is, in fact, so utterly terrified of falling.

a/n: y’all this was supposed to be a drabble…but i wrote too much and now it’s a fic and idk how i feel abt it LOL anyways, it has not been (and will probably never be) proofread so please excuse any grammatical and spacing errors! i will now go cry with my 3 assignments due in like an hour.

~~~~~~~~

faded. drunk. confused. mentally unstable. all these words, along with maybe 30 more could be used to describe your current state as you sludge your way into a familiar bedroom at the nu chi theta house after puking up probably a lifetime’s worth of alcohol.

the god awful ringing in your ears and the throbbing of your head makes the room spin, but you’re awake enough to recognize that the room was currently occupied. before you can mumble out a string of curse words and a sorry, you particularly notice exactly who was inside the room.

you’re caught off guard by a, now pissed looking, jaehyun along with someone who you don’t immediately recognize. you realize then who’s room you just entered and mentally smack yourself, reminding yourself to rid of the habit.

the other person is hiding underneath a blanket as jaehyun does his best to cover their figure, protecting their privacy to shoot daggers at whoever was interrupting his ordeal.

it takes you a couple seconds to fully register what was happening in front of you and you scoff.

so that’s how it is.

jaehyun, on the other hand, has his eyes widened. so wide that you think there are more whites visible than the typical brown orbs. he’s gaping now, mouth open and trying to think of excuses as to why he was in bed with someone else after dumping you only 2 days ago.

in his defense, there’s no need for an excuse. the two of you were already over, and he could fuck whoever he wanted to fuck. you could be doing the same.

but you aren’t.

instead, all of yesterday and the day before, you hunkered in your bedroom, cuddled in a blanket with tissues sprawled all over your bed and the floor. you went to your classes, hoodie pulled up way over your head to shield your puffy face and baggy eyes, came home, drowned yourself in ice cream, and cried.

yet he’s here, hooking up with people after leaving you heartbroken. you should’ve listened to jungwoo when he warned you about his flatmate; about his tendencies to sleep around and leave his relationships in the dirt.

when you and jaehyun first began flirtatious interactions with one another, it wasn’t in your intention to start anything serious with the dimple-faced boy. yet one encounter followed another and you never realized how hard you were falling until you were up at 3 am smiling at messages he’d sent you the previous day.

when he asked you to be his girlfriend after about 2 months of successful dates, you were ecstatic. your mind raced back to jungwoo, correcting him telepathically. he was so wrong about jaehyun. he was the sweetest person you’d ever been with, and was so patient with you.

It even made jungwoo take back his words after you announced the relationship to your best friend.

he said jaehyun had changed since he’s been with you.

that change lasted about 4 months afterwards.

4 months of pure bliss; cute dates like picnics at 11 pm after going on drives, watching the sunset from the roof of a nearby apartment building, jumping fences into the expanses of lakes after hours.

4 months of being pressed into a mattress with jaehyun gazing down so lovingly at your writhing body. him pressing into you as your mewls surround the small bedroom. him holding you as both of you come down from your high.

4 months of falling in love with jaehyun.

all to waste after he texted you during class, saying that he needed to talk to you. at least he had the decency to not dump you over text.

jaehyun said something along the lines of “it’s not you, it’s me,” and mentioned that he “doesn’t like being tied down.” you remember nodding, emotions not surfacing until he stands up and leaves you at the coffee shop just around the corner of your dorm building.

your coffee shop. the one you two went to whenever you wanted to find the other. it was like your secret hideout, because no one from your campus knew of this place, even though it was so close to home.

you thought things were going so well, the two of you even making plans to meet each other’s parents over the coming break. but with only a few words from one side, and wordless nods coming another, everything faded to dust.

so as you stare at the man who shattered your heart with someone else underneath him, you plaster a polite smile before flipping him off and exiting the room. his shouts follow you, and you inwardly scream at him to shut up. he has no right to sound so broken at the moment.

you pass by jungwoo on your way out and he immediately notices your tense figure, trailing his eyes towards the direction you were coming from. his jaw clenches when he realizes, wanting to barge into the room and beat the living shit out of his flatmate, but instead follows you out the house.

the blaring music coming from the beaten house becomes muffled by the time you step foot outside the door, tears threatening, but not yet falling from your bloodshot eyes.

jaehyun isn’t slow to catch up with you, but is stopped by a raging jungwoo before exiting the house. jungwoo warns jaehyun to leave you alone, but jaehyun is persistent, pushing past his friend to grasp your shoulder before you could storm away from his reach.

his previous rendezvous has been completely forgotten, and all jaehyun could focus on was you. he notices how you reeked of alcohol, a hint of marijuana radiating from you as well. what he notices the most, though, was that you had a hint of his favorite perfume lingering on your skin.

before you have the chance to turn around, jaehyun is ripped from you, a loud smack following almost immediately after. jaehyun stands, one hand holding onto his pounding cheek while the other grip’s jungwoo’s shirt.

your best friend has both his hands tightly fisting jaehyun’s shirt, staring bullets into the boy’s face.

“you have no right to barge out here and chase us down after you let y/n go,” jungwoo growls. he sees red, heart hurting for his best friend. he cares about you so much. the two of you always fitting into one mold, completing each other, and every time either one of you had their hearts broken, the other would be there to fix and mend everything.

yet, he’d never seen someone hurt you as much as jaehyun did. however much you hurt, it hurt him equivalently. he knew this one was different, because the pain you felt was so much more intense than any you’d experienced before.

what pushed jungwoo even further off the ledge for him to act like this though, was that if he were to be in the same position as you, you would be doing the same thing. you’d also be doing your best to keep him from hurting himself over and over by someone who only meant trouble.

“woo, that’s enough,” you mutter out before coming to push the two boys away from each other.

“y/n, let me explain,” jaehyun grabs your arm as he says this, eyes searching yours for some form of reaction. your previously watery eyes are dry now, and the emotion that was threatening to overcome you minutes prior have all disappeared. you shrug off his hand.

“there’s nothing left for you to explain.”

it killed you, but you had to muster the strength to spit those words at the man you were falling in love with. you knew that it would have been worse if you were to hear him out.

“y/n please just-”

“that’s enough,” you whip your head in his direction, warning him with your eyes.

“but y/n-”

“i said enough!” you’re yelling now, slightly pushing the boy back. he stumbles over himself, and jungwoo takes this opportunity to grab your shoulders and tuck you safely behind his back. you had tears running from your eyes, frustrated at the tugging of your heartstrings because you’re supposed to hate him. you were supposed to be elated that you were in this situation, him begging for your time.

yet it hurt seeing him so broken in front of you, begging for another chance. it hurt so damn much, and you’re so angry at yourself for being such a pushover.

jaehyun straightens himself, looking in your direction but not quite at you because you're hiding your face behind your best friend’s denim jacket covered back.

“y/n, i just want to apologize.”

“there’s nothing to apologize for.”

“there-”

“no, jaehyun, there isn’t,” you use this as a stepping stone to emerge from behind jungwoo, who’s calmed down a bit since connecting his fist with jaehyun’s sharp features.

“don’t talk. let me finish,” you raise a hand before he could get another word out of his mouth. he shrinks a bit, but his eyes focus on your figure slowly approaching him, letting you know he’s listening.

“there’s no need for you to apologize for whatever you were doing because we aren’t together anymore and you can sleep with whoever you want. i don’t care, it’s none of my business. you don’t have to apologize for me walking in on you, because again, none of my business anymore.” you take in a deep breath before you continue.

“if you were going to apologize for breaking up with me, there’s no need. what’s done is done,” you whisper. you feel a huge lump form in your throat. you do your best to swallow it, along with your pride, and smile up at him.

you can’t really read him, but you can tell he’s in thought. you continue.

“if you were to apologize,” you began, sniffing up the snot that’s beginning to trickle down your nose. you probably look like a mess, but you could care less. you needed to get all of this off your chest. you wouldn’t have any other opportunities, so might as well do it now.

fuck the fake smile. fuck faking it til you make it. this is so much better.

“you should be apologizing for making me believe you were sincere with me,” you continue. jaehyun’s eyes go wide, and you notice the slight, subconscious, shake of his head. you proceed.

“i shouldn’t have believed it when you said i was different. fool me once, shame on me. but you continued to make me believe that i was different.” jaehyun opens his mouth, but you give him a look that shuts him up completely. he needs to fix that habit of always wanting to interrupt.

your ramble continues. “you should be apologizing for lying to me when you said you wanted to meet my parents. we set up the date and everything, and they were actually looking forward to meeting you, but now i have to tell them you aren’t coming,” you speak as calmly as you can. anything related to your parents always makes you ten times more emotional in every situation, and this was taking somewhat of a toll on you.

“you should be apologizing for making me feel special all the damn time. you made me believe i was the only one for you and that you were the only one for me. you made me feel so fucking foolish after you left, you know that? i thought we were doing so well, and you just left me in the dust after being so fucking vague. what do you mean ‘it’s not me, it’s you?’ it makes absolutely no fucking sense,” you’re almost hysterical now as you let everything fall down your face. you’re still eye to eye with jaehyun, and he looks taken aback by your declarations that he’s rendered speechless.

your next few words are what makes jaehyun’s world come crashing down.

“you should be apologizing for making me believe you were falling in love with me too,” you whimper. you’re full on sobbing now, and jungwoo assists you from falling to your knees.

it takes jaehyun a couple moments to register what was happening, a couple moments to fully comprehend what you were saying; what you meant.

you were so broken because you were beginning to love him. and he let you go.

“i’m..i’m-”

“leave, jae. do it when i’m asking nicely,” jungwoo’s low voice echos from your spot on the ground. your shoulder shake with every sob you’re letting escape you.

“jungwoo, let me fucking talk, okay? stop interrupting me every damn time while i’m trying to figure things out with y/n. this was our relationship, not yours!” he’s yelling now, and jungwoo shrinks. he knows he’s stepping over the line, but some things reach a limit, and jaehyun is reaching his.

“yes, i know y/n told you things, but did you know that i used to wait after classes when the weather turned bad just to make sure y/n wouldn’t be walking home in the rain? always forgot an umbrella when it counts,” he chuckles the last line, eyes teary.

“did y/n tell you that every single time my phone rang, i was internally wishing that the name popping up on the screen would be ‘lovely’ and no one else’s? i always wait for your calls, you know,” he directs it to you this time. “they always made my day.”

you raise your head when you realize he was walking to you. when you see his tortured expression while reminiscing his feelings for you, you suddenly had the urge to run up to him and wipe away the tears falling from his handsome face. you hated that that was your first thought, though.

“did y/n tell you i was falling too?”

you tense at his words, and jungwoo scoffs.

“if you were falling, why did you break things off?” the words leave your mouth before you had the chance to stop them. your mind was running a mile a minute because in what world did it make sense for jaehyun to dump you when he claims to be falling in love with you.

“i was scared,” he finally mutters after a couple seconds of painful silence.

“what is there to be scared of, jaehyun?” you’re standing now, jungwoo completely baffled at the interaction taking place in front of his eyes. he realizes then, that maybe jaehyun was telling the truth.

jaehyun was scared of falling.

jungwoo recalls all the times jaehyun has been in an actual relationship, but can only remember one other time that he actually introduced someone to the boys as his. all the others were just casual flings, where they'd be slipping out the door before anyone could acknowledge their existence.

when he broke things off with that past relationship, his actions were similar to the ones he’s portrayed the past few days. silence in his room instead of the typical blaring music from his sound system. a shocking decrease in teasing his housemates. jungwoo even noticed that he didn’t see the dimples on jaehyun’s face as frequently.

the one other person ended the same way, jaehyun breaking it off about 4 months into the relationship, saying he didn’t like being tied down.

he didn't like being tied down? he doesn’t like...shit, what a fucking dumbass. he’s scared of being in love, jungwoo realized.

“that’s what you meant,” jungwoo states his epiphany out loud and he stands up. he brushes off any dirt from his pants and begins to walk towards the house, knowing that whatever happens on the front lawn would heal more than harm.

you look at your best friend in confusion, but he plasters a grin on his face and looks in your direction before turning to jaehyun. “you need to stop being such a wuss.” and he’s back inside the house.

“it seems like everyone’s mission is to cut me off today, and it’s getting a little aggravating,” he tries to joke and you just stare at him in silence. he takes it as an, “i don’t care, just talk,” and begins his tangent.

“i broke things off with you because i was scared,” he begins. you follow his words with a nod, emphasizing that you’re listening to the man standing across you.

“i’ve never been in love before, and i didn’t realize how-how utterly terrifying it felt. i was close one time, but i broke things off before anything else could develop because i didn’t think i was ready for it. i felt like i was incapable of love for a while because of my stupid frat boy image, you know?” you nod in response to his rhetorical question and he begins moving towards the small bench sat on the lawn. you follow suit and sit yourself down a good distance away from him.

he talks again, this time sounding more regretful than anything. “i sometimes tell myself how idiotic i am because i let them go before. if i just had the balls to accept the fact that maybe i was falling in love, i wouldn’t have to see them roam around campus a couple months after with someone else.”

you remember briefly jaehyun’s previous relationship. it was the talk amongst your campus because the jeong jaehyun was in an actually relationship with someone. and people were making bets on how long they thought it’d last. same as they’ve been doing for your relationship with him.

“it all kind of got to me without much of a warning because like, shit, falling in love with someone meant checking your phone every 3 minutes cause you’re scared you missed their call, or calling them if they took too long to assure you they’re home safe, that kind of thing,” he smiles. “no one teaches you that.”

you chuckle dryly because he hit the nail on the coffin. no one tells you the details about being in love, only mentioning the feelings and not the irrational things you’d do for them.

jaehyun continues after he assures himself that you’re listening to his words and internally heave a relieved sigh. he was scared you were going to have things come in one ear and out the other.

“at the same time, if i kept them in my life, i wouldn’t have met you. we wouldn’t have developed a relationship, and i wouldn’t have began to fall in you,” he scoots a bit closer to you, and you let him.

“and you wouldn’t have broken my heart like this,” you retaliate and he physically winces.

“ouch. you’re not wrong though,” he smiles, dimples reappearing on his face.

“get to the point, jaehyun. it’s cold as fuck and i don’t have a jacket,” you complain when he’s silent for a little too long. you’re holding your arms now, hit by the frosty air. when he’s silent for another moment, you look up from your feet, ready to complain again. but instead, you’re met with a hoodie being pulled over your head and you’re stunned.

“when i said i was cold, i didn’t mean for you to give me your hoodie.”

“well, too bad,” he smiles widely. the hoodie smells like him, and you take in his scent. the sweater was a bit larger on you, so you begin to roll the sleeves up, pulling your arms out of the sweater paws.

“as i was saying, i realized i was falling in love with you and i was just- i don’t know, i was scared. i think i’ve said the word scared like 10 times today, but what other word is there?” he chuckles. you do the same.

“so i did what any other sane person would do and dipped. i ran away from my feelings because in my brain, it was the best thing to do. and i hurt you in the process because i was being a selfish asshole, and i’m sorry,” he finishes, you assume. as you’re thinking about how to respond, he catches you off guard with something you never thought would leave jaehyun’s mouth.

“oh, and i love you. i’m sure of it,” he declares.

and you’re crying again. as intoxicated as you were just 30 minutes ago, you swear that in that moment, you weren’t drunk on the drinks or faded from the j’s, but you were intoxicated by jaehyun.

the way he’s looking at you, the way he’s smiling at you.

he stretches out a hand in your direction, asking for your permission to take your own and grab his hand in response. his hand engulfs yours like a hug, and he intertwines his fingers with your cold ones.

“so does this mean you love me back?” he questions.

you nod, because you can’t think of anything else to say. you’re so utterly in love with him that you’re rendered speechless, you fool.

“and does this mean we can start over?” he asks, hoping for another nod.

instead, you speak. “why were you fucking someone else when i got here if you’re in love with me?”

jaehyun is now the one rendered speechless and gulps before answering. “have you ever heard of heartbreak sex?”

“isn’t that supposed to be with the one who broke your heart?”

“yeah, but if we had sex, i would only fall in love with you more.”

“and you don’t want that?”

“i do now,” he smiles.

you roll your eyes and say nothing.

“i’m sorry i hurt you.”

“you better be.”

“i promise i won’t do it again.”

“next time you do, i’m chopping off your dick in your sleep so you won’t be able to go have heartbreak sex with someone else.”

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

champagne problems (part 1)

here's my first part of my modern no magic "champagne problems" singer-songwriter quarantine thomastair AU! happy birthday to @foxglove-airmid even though I don't think it's your birthday where you live anymore (and I still haven't posted zia's birthday fic, it'll happen I swear)!

no content warnings for this part (besides maybe quarantine), but future parts will include discussions of mental illness, substance abuse, and a suicide attempt

obviously, the song alastair "wrote" in the fic is not mine, it's by taylor swift! and a few of the lyrics have been changed!

Masterlist | AO3

Thomas breathed out a sigh of relief as he lugged his suitcase up onto the fifth floor landing.

“‘Ere we are,” Piers announced as he unlocked the door.

Thomas was utterly exhausted, such was the result of taking a redeye flight across the Atlantic during a global pandemic, but any idea of rest that he’d had was interrupted when he heard the sound of piano flood the apartment.

“Ah, sorry about that,” Piers nodded, “One of my flatmates, the walls are paper thin. He can’t record at the studio right now, but he’s trying to finish his EP, so it’s been a bit noisier around here. He’ll take a break soon, hopefully.”

Thomas shook his head. “It’s no problem. Thank you, again, for allowing me to stay here. I’ll be looking for my own place as soon as the quarantine is up.”

“Of course. You’ve got the couch as long as you need it. Couldn’t just hang you out to dry, could I? Although, you did pick a god awful time to move to the city, if I do say so myself.”

Thomas sat down on the couch and tried to make himself comfortable. It was more comfortable than the flight or the airport, at least. “I know… I considered postponing the move, but the visa was so difficult to get, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity. They say this will all blow over in a couple of weeks, but borders are closing and I heard talk of them suspending all pending visa applications. I didn't know how long it would be if I waited, if the job was even still here for me at all.” Although at first entrance, the music had seemed to be a nuisance, it now comforted him. It wasn’t bad at all, in fact, it quite reminded him of the days Alastair’s playing had filled their flat…

“Where did you say you were working again? At a record company?”

“Yeah. I’m just doing pretty basic stuff for now, but if I ever do want to record my own music, I’ve got to start somewhere.”

“Hm,” Piers said, gesturing to the room the music was coming from. “Perhaps you’ll get on with him well, then. Would you like some tea?”

Thomas nodded and Piers went to start the teapot. Piers continued, “Though I suppose he's more of the tortured artist type. Very reserved, quite prickly. I didn't even meet him until a couple weeks after I moved in here because he was off in some psychiatric hospital.” Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was never one for gossip. “My other roommate’s nice, though, I think you’ll like him. He-”

“How did you end up in New York, again? I don’t think I ever asked.”

Piers dove into the subject change quite readily, explaining his uni - or college - years in New York City and his decision to stay afterwards. Thomas had tuned most of it out, truthfully. It wasn’t that he was trying to be rude, but he was rather exhausted, and Piers was wearing thin on his patience.

As the kettle started to whine, Thomas heard the musician begin to sing, and he froze. It sounded so much like Alastair. But it couldn't be, could it? With over 8 million people living in the city, he would not end up in Alastair's apartment by accident. His Alastair was certainly reserved and prickly, but it wasn't possible. It must be like all those times he thought he saw him on a street he'd never walked or heard his laugh in a café he'd never been to. Just his mind, tricking him. Even if he knew that voice so well, despite not hearing it in so long.

“It’s quite good, isn’t it? His first single just dropped.” Piers asked, bringing over his cup of tea. He hadn’t realized it, but he’d been staring intently at the door.

Thomas took the cup. “Hm? Yeah, I guess. Thanks.”

“You should look it up. It’s called “champagne problems” by Simurgh. That’s spelled- Well, it should come up.”

The name Simurgh sounded familiar, but Thomas couldn’t put his finger on where he knew it from. At Piers’ insistence, he pulled out his phone and brought up the song. As he skimmed through the first few lines, a cold feeling settled in his stomach.

“You booked the night train for a reason So you could sit there in this hurt Bustling crowds or silent sleepers You're not sure which is worse”

“Simurgh,” Thomas realized.

“Yeah, I think it’s Arabic or something.”

It took Thomas a moment to process that Piers was responding to him. “It’s Persian.” He was certain that Alastair would have some very stern words to say if he heard Piers confusing the two, actually. Thomas had admittedly let his Farsi skills deteriorate quite a bit since the breakup, but he was fairly certain the name came from the Shahnameh. There was no doubt in Thomas’ mind now: he was staying in Alastair’s apartment, and Alastair’s first single was about one of the most painful days in Thomas’ life. “I, er, I used to study it.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right!” Piers launched into a tangent that Thomas tuned out as he read through the rest of the page.

“Because I dropped your hand while dancing Left you out there standing Crestfallen on the landing Champagne problems”

“Thomas? Are you alright?”

He realized then that his hand was trembling so badly that his tea nearly spilled. He used his other hand to steady it. “Oh, uh, yes, I’m just tired.”

“Perhaps you should rest. I can ask Alastair to quiet down for a while-”

“No!” he exclaimed rather too forcefully. “No, that’s not necessary. I’d just rather not talk, if that’s alright.”

Piers nodded.

Thomas kept reading.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket My picture in your wallet Your heart was glass, I dropped it Champagne problems”

Of all the songs, why did he release the one about him? Why was it about a memory still so painful in Thomas’ heart, all of these years later? He remembered it so well, standing there, alone, shattered into a million pieces.

“You told your family for a reason You couldn't keep it in Your sister splashed out on the bottle Now no one's celebrating”

He was fairly certain that Barbara had been more excited than even he was, confident that Alastair would accept, and so very proud of her baby brother, all grown up. She’d been furious when it fell apart, but it was her who stood with him during the aftermath, who boarded him onto a train to Edinburgh to visit Eugenia when he couldn’t stand to be in the same city as him any longer, who went through his phone, blocking all of Alastair’s accounts so that he could obsess over him no longer, who comforted him as he wept and held him as he picked the pieces of himself back up again.

And all the more sour was the memory in light of her death.

“Dom Pérignon, you brought it No crowd of friends applauded Your hometown skeptics called it Champagne problems”

He looked up at Piers, who had fortunately become enthralled with something on his phone and was no longer paying Thomas any mind. He lifted the teacup gingerly to his lips, but he felt far too sick to take a drink.

“You had a speech, you're speechless Love slipped beyond your reaches And I couldn't give a reason Champagne problems”

A reason, that’s all Thomas had wanted. Just any explanation. He understood if they were moving too fast, or perhaps he’d misread something, but he just didn’t understand it.

Why? Why can’t you tell me why? I deserve an explanation, Alastair. Please, anything.

I… I’m sorry, Thomas.

Stop it! Stop apologizing! We can just go home and pretend this never happened, please, forget about all of it, it was a stupid idea-

Thomas, stop. I shouldn’t’ve… This was a mistake. I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner.

That was the moment Thomas felt his heart stop beating.

“Your Midas touch on the Chevy door November flush and your flannel cure "This dorm was once a madhouse" I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me" How evergreen, our group of friends Don't think we'll say that word again And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls That we once walked through”

Despite the nearly two decades Thomas had spent in London before Alastair, it was never the same without him. He saw him everywhere he went, despite knowing he was thousands of miles away. After graduating uni that May, he accepted a spot at a graduate program in Spain and didn’t look back.

“One for the money, two for the show I never was ready so I watch you go Sometimes you just don't know the answer 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you "You’re the only one I want by my side, What a shame you’re fucked in the head," you said”

Those were the words that haunted Thomas’ nightmares, even now.

It’s you! It’s only you for me! It was always going to be you! But I can see now that I was never going to be enough for you, you and your secrets and walls and your lies. It’s a shame… it’s a shame you’re so fucked in the head, Alastair. You’ll never truly love anyone, will you? You’re not physically capable of it.

Alastair hadn’t responded. Thomas had wanted a rise out of him, any reaction at all, despite knowing how lethal and volatile Alastair could become when provoked. But there was nothing. Not a flicker of anything in his steeled expression. He’d simply looked down, apologized again for any pain that he’d caused, and left.

That was the last time they’d spoken.

Thomas and his sister left for Edinburgh that night, and when he’d returned to London, Alastair was gone.

“Well, you'll find the real thing instead Who'll patch up your tapestry that I shred And hold your hand while dancing Never leave you standing Crestfallen on the landing With champagne problems”

Thomas couldn’t imagine giving his heart to anyone again, not now and certainly not then. He’d dated in Madrid, but it had always stayed casual. He’d made sure of it. He could see now that he and Alastair had gotten together quickly, moved in together quickly, done all of it very quickly. After all, he’d fallen hard and fast. He gave all of himself to Alastair, and he’d nearly lost all of himself in the process.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket New picture in your wallet You won't remember all my Champagne problems

“You won't remember all my Champagne problems”

Now, he wondered what the rest of the story was. He’d convinced himself that Alastair had never loved him, that he was heartless and cruel, though he’d known that wasn’t true. Could Alastair have written this song if he’d never truly loved him? Perhaps he was a sociopath.

Thomas felt like he should run. Like he should pick up his bag and dart out of the apartment before Alastair could notice him, find some hotel somewhere with undoubtedly extraordinary high rates and just pretend like this never happened. He could get back on a plane and go back home to his parents and delete his phone browser history and pretend like this was all just a bad dream. But he could not move.

He didn’t know how many minutes had passed before Alastair’s door opened. He looked up with a start.

“Thomas,” Alastair breathed. He stood wide eyed, flushed.

“Do you two already know each other then?” Piers asked.

There was a moment of silence before Thomas cleared his throat. “We used to,” he said, looking down.

“I, er, I forgot that your friend was coming today,” Alastair told Piers. “It’s quite a long journey from London, you should have told me, I would have been quieter.”

Thomas considered correcting him for a moment, but decided not to. “Don’t worry about it. I heard you had your first big release. Congratulations.”

Alastair gave an awkward nod. “Thank you. Right, well, I’ll just…” He rushed over to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’ll try to be a bit quieter.”

“Don’t- It’s fine, really. In fact, I’m sure there’s some hotel in the area I can stay at for now, actually-”

“Well, don’t leave on my account,” Alastair interrupted. “We agreed to let you stay here, and the city’s a bloody mess right now. I’ll stay out of your hair, Thomas.”

Thomas only nodded as Alastair disappeared back behind his bedroom door.

Thanks for reading! Taglist (ask to be +/-): @stxr-thxif @chaos-and-starlight @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @jem-nasium @fortheloveofthecarstairs @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @shadowrunner2000 @thewarthatsavedmylife @fair-childd @itsjusta-j-really

[parvulous-writings]

Murders // Alex Law x Reader

Request:     Hi! I have a request: I just recently watched a shallow grave and I’m obsessed with ewan mcgregor as Alex Law. Could you write something where he tells you about the murders because he feels like he can trust you, he also may or may not be in love with you. We love angst. Thanks!

Requested by: ​Anon

Summary: the request

Warnings: mentions of death, homicide, cadavers. Slightly ooc Alex? 

Words: 1.6K

Notes:  Mmmm Alex Law. That is all. My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too! 

Not my gif

Things with Alex had been, well they’d been strange over the past couple of weeks or so. You didn’t know what it was, but he kept trailing after you wherever you went in the flat; not in his usual way, which was often to pester or tease you, but for another reason. You had no idea what that reason was, but you could tell it was bothering him. Sometimes he would glance up, only briefly, but you would catch it out of the corner of your eye. You tried to bring it up to him on several occasions, but he would always brush it off, saying that he was fine, and then “What the hell are you talking about? I told you I’m fine. Really. Just leave it.” But no matter how annoyed he sounded with you, he wouldn’t stomp off like he often used to.  It always seemed to get worse whenever David was in the room with you. Alex would tense up, and his eyes would be trained solely on his glasses-clad roommate. David would occasionally stare back, but very few words were ever said between the two of them. 

Tonight, though, was different. You were sat with Alex on the lime green sofa, more laying than anything, his arm draped over your shoulder, eyes on the TV as one of Alex’s favourite schlocky shows played on the screen. He was mumbling quietly along with the host, laughing softly when the audience did. Things seemed almost normal, it was nice. You couldn’t see or feel his tenseness anymore, which allowed you to relax ever so slightly beside him, you head falling back on to his arm as you watched whatever it was Alex had put on, you still didn’t know what it was. But it was making him happy- he even dropped a few of his sassy and sometimes crude comments throughout the show’s runtime. As the show started to draw to a close, Alex shuffled a little bit. The tenseness returned, and the silence between you became almost unbearably awkward. He cleared his throat, and you moved to sit up for a moment. You glanced over at the clock- it was half past ten, fairly late. You’d need to head off soon if you wanted to be home before eleven, or lower the risk of getting jumped in the street.  “Do you want to stay over?” He asked you, and you give him a rather surprised look. It wasn’t the first time that Alex had invited you to stay over at the flat, but it was more his tone that caught you off-guard. Usually his voice was dripping with a flirty undertone, suggesting a much more intimate activity than just sleeping in the flat. This time, though, it seemed more genuine- staying over seemed to be the primary thing on his mind.  “Sure,” You nonchalantly agree, shrugging slightly before you settled back down in his arm. You both fall silent again, awkwardly watching as the TV droned on and on, though it was unclear if either of you two were really paying attention to the show being broadcasted. 

Alex cleared his throat again, catching your attention. “Can I ask you a question?” His voice is quiet, “Hypothetically?”  You weren’t unaccustomed to Alex’s ‘hypothetical’ questions. They were often a point of contention or the root of teasing, but it was all in good fun. “Alright then. Hit me with it.” You say to him- he swallows his nerves and starts to speak again.  “If a someone you knew told you that they had been involved in burying a man out in the woods, and was involved in killing a couple more... What would you do?” Silence falls between the pair of you again as you start to think. Like most of his questions, it was an odd one, borderline insane to be precise. You just put it as his over-active imagination making him think of wild scenarios.  “I don’t know.” You chuckle, shrugging lightly. You’re not sure whether to answer honestly, or playfully. “What kind of answer do you want, Alex?”  “A proper one. Like... A serious one.” Oh, well that was different.  “Okay...” You trail off, thinking it over for a second. “Well, I’d probably leave, and tell the police.” You shrug, thinking nothing of it. This wasn’t the answer Alex wanted though.  “What if it was me?” He asked you, and you gave him an odd look in reply.  “I’d still do that, Alex... Just because you’re my friend doesn’t put you above the law.” This seemed to unnerve and annoy him even more though. “Don’t look at me like that!” You tell him, “You’re the one who wanted a serious answer, and you got one!” 

Alex paused, though only very briefly. “Yeah, I guess...” He grumbled, but he still didn’t seem very happy. You gave him an odd look.  “What the hell has gotten into you?” You asked him, “You’ve been acting weird for weeks!”  “I’ve got a lot on my mind.” He’s started to shut down, to put a wall between the two of you, as he pulled his arm away from you. “Nevermind, forget I said anything.” He muttered, rather spitefully, as he rested his cheek on the knuckles of his balled fist. This had not gone the way he had hoped. If you didn’t react the way he thought you would at the hypothetical- how would you react to the truth? He may have been slightly delusional, but that didn’t occur or matter to him.  “Well, you want to talk about it?” You offered, trying to be a little bit soften than you had been a few moments prior.  “No.” Came his short, pointed reply. He started to move to try and get up from the sofa, but you held out an arm to stop it. “Oh, what now?” He whined. “We finished the conversation, just let me go, will you?”  “No- clearly there’s something actually bothering you; you can tell me. I’m your friend, that’s what friends do, isn’t it?” You ask him, and he rolled his eyes, huffing back down into his seat. He knew that you were right- but that didn’t stop his nerves from rising. He knew that what he had done was downright wrong- he may not have known or acknowledged it at the time, but now the guilt followed him everywhere. Every corner, it lurked in the shadow, he saw the flickers out of the corner of his eye. 

“The question wasn’t hypothetical.” He spoke suddenly, looking into his lap as he wrung his hands. You stayed completely silent, words escaped you. Your mind went blank, and you just stared at him. “I wanted to see what you would do.” “You... You, what?” You were still trying to wrap your head around what he was trying to say to you. He finally looks at you, and his eyes are just... Sad. They hold an almost melancholic look, his hurt surfacing for once.  “I wanted to see what you would do... I wanted to tell you.” Alex started to speak again. “Because... Because I think you’re the closest person I have now, and- and I wanted to tell you, because I don’t want to lie anymore, I don’t want anything between us...”  “Alex, what did you do?” All of a sudden, you’re hyper-aware of every little movement he makes. Every shallow breath, every blink, every twitch, your brain registered it. Your heart started to race, a sick feeling started to settle in your stomach. As it sunk in that Alex was admitting to having a hand in a murder- whether it was the killing blow or not- you wanted to run, but you were rooted to your seat, paralyzed besides your mouth, which seemed to speak of it’s own accord. “What did you do?” You repeated, sounding much harsher. 

“I didn’t kill the second two!” The auburn haired scotsman exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “I didn’t even kill Hugo, that was his own bloody fault!” You vaguely recognised the name Hugo; Alex had mentioned him some months ago, and never brought him up to you again, so you thought nothing of it. “We buried them out in the woods...” He continued, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Why are you telling me this, Alex?”  “I already told you. You’re all I’ve got, now. Juliet’s shut herself off from everyone, and David... Well that’s best left unsaid.” He murmured, glancing through the doorway to the chipped blue paint of his flatmate’s door. Neither David or Juliet were here with you now, you supposed that that was both a blessing and a curse.  “I should call the police.” You mutter, almost fearfully. Alex seems rather hurt at the fear in your voice, and he slowly nods.  “They already know about the bodies... But I’m not going to stop you if you want to tell them it was us.” He’s completely given in to you now, his fate is in your hands. Do you really want to turn him in?

No. That was the answer from the most selfish depths of your mind. It’s the answer you decided to stick with, as immoral as it may have been. You look him dead in the eye as you speak. “What do I do?” It takes him a moment to register that you are in fact not going to contact the police about his and his friend’s misdeeds, and he’s instantly sat beside you again.  “Stick with me, please. I won’t let either of them get you, I just... I need you around.” Alex said to you, slowly, as if it were difficult to admit this even after admitting his crimes to you. To him, it was. You nodded slowly in response, and Alex silently acknowledged that you may still change your mind on it yet.  “Alright.” You whisper. “I’ll stick around.” 

[bukojuiice]

rose-colored boy

ೃ pairing: (eren jaeger x fem! reader)

ೃ  tags: college/modern au, fluff, humor, love at first sight cliché, mikasa is your cute little sister, armin, sasha, jean, and connie are your besties, and eren is a himbo who works hard and has terrible friends.

ೃ warnings: strong language and mild suggestive content

ೃ part 1/??? of my (eren x reader) college au!

ೃ word count: 3000 words

ೃ  my nav  →  my mha writing masterlist 

ೃ This is my very first snk x reader fic! so i hope you bear with some errors! qwq 

i’ve been following the anime ever since it was released in 2013, and this is the first time i’m  going to be writing for it.  this month’s manga chapter really took me out so why not channel my sadness thru writing an fluff! eren fic? 🤧 i hope you enjoy either way!

ೃ  please do reblog if you enjoyed!! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!)

ೃ  in which (Y/N) (L/N), 20, still in school, and regretfully-unregretfully-her little girl scout sister's assistant, meets eren jaeger in an embarrassing too innocent door-to-door cookie sale whilst a humiliating party was going on.

cookies, suspicious maybe-maybe-not pot brownies, meddling little sisters and friends, “oh my god they were roommates” vine on replay 24/7, homework, tears, and fairy lights bring them together.

“I’m going to enter now.”

“Ahhh yes, please!”

“Shut up, please.” Eren muttered to himself as he tossed and turned around in his bed, but still couldn’t get to sleep. “When will they ever stop doing this?” Why did Eren’s next-door roommate and his girlfriend have to do this five times a day? They had a lot of stamina for 21-year-olds who didn’t have anything better to do.

Eren’s thoughts eventually brought him to his parents.

His parents- did they even exist?

For pretty much 14 years of Eren’s life, they had been out of town or out of the country. His older brother, Zeke, blonde, bespectacled, tall, and sometimes too far up his own ass older brother who Eren is able to confide in from time to time, recently got a girlfriend whom he’s hopelessly in love with (they’re even thinking about getting married which isn’t really a problem since the girl is genuinely nice to his older brother so Eren is good with her.), so… things in the family had been a bit rough and busy to say the least.

Communication with his parents wasn’t always the best.

Eren would study late at night back when he was seven, because no one bothered to help him with homework. Along with the fact that he wasn’t the brightest kid in class, and he knew that very well, but he had ambition and he was determined to make it big in the world. He focused more on sports, particularly Soccer in middle school and high school, and tried to balance that with his studies.  After being granted a Sports Scholarship from Shigashina University, Eren decided to rent and share a flat, living with his batchmates who he met at a mixer party (before Uni started as this whole meet and get to know each other kind of thing) and whom he was so quick to call his ‘friends’, just so that he could get out of the hellhole that was his own house.

But things turned out much worse than expected.

Eren thought that the ‘College Life’ was to focus more on pursuing your future career and make a name for yourself but… it was the other way around.

He thought that after Freshmen year, everyone would take things seriously. Sure, have some drinks, get wasted after finals, or have house parties from time to time. But he was unfortunately, dragged into the wrong crowd. After attending around 5 parties in the first few months of being generalized as one of the infamous and pompous freshman archetypes present in every university, he called it a year and spent the rest of his nights doing homework, projects, playing video games, staying at the school soccer field until 10PM while his roommates were probably smoking crack and not caring about the number of units they needed to take for each of their goddamn subjects.

 He was ~living the life~ and now that he regrets most of the decisions he made in freshman year, the only option that he has left was to wait until his third year and move to a different apartment.  

 Now, here he was, Sophomore year, nearing the end of the semester, and very much eager to get the hell out of here and also study for his upcoming finals on Constitutional Law II, as his professor, Mr. Erwin Smith, was going to throw hands if one of his students score below average on the exam.

 “EREN MICK JAEGER! BROOOO!” Eren winces when he hears the shrieky and annoying voice of his flatmate Thomas Wagner, calling out to him. “Wanna go and party with us?” Eren smiles halfheartedly, shaking his head, “Ah, no thanks. I have a game tomorrow and finals coming up on Thursday.” Thomas smirked and wrapped his arm around Eren, “Oh fuck that, live the college life ya spoon.”

“No, really I have to study.”

Thomas frowned and groaned, “Oh god, you’re such a killjoy. Fine, if that’s what you want. Don’t blame us if we tell you to buy some beer down the block.”

Eren cracked an obviously fake laugh and pushed Thomas away from him, “You’re an ass. That only happened once and that was when we first met. Don’t you even dare try to ask me to buy you shit again.”

“Woah. Woah. Woaaaaaah. That was a joke Eren. Loosen up will you?” Thomas raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the brunette’s sudden aggressiveness. He hums Moves like Jaeger by Maroon 5 as a way to spite Eren whilst passing by him down the staircase.

The brunette shook his head, tying his hair into a bun carelessly and sprinting into his room without uttering another word.

Eren just wanted to study. He really did.

Instead, his roommates, all of them, mind you, were all partying in the lounge and the music was too loud and Eren was too annoyed.

They did manage to bring him out and make him stay in the kitchen where he mindlessly glared at anyone who came in. He sighed and tapped his pen restlessly amongst the insane amount of books on the table.

There was a knock.

His roommate, Floch, came in the kitchen with his girlfriend who Eren couldn’t even name with all the women he has brought into the apartment. She was hanging onto his arm and giggling. Floch’s eyes were red and his speech very slow and lazy. "Eren!" he said with a sly grin.

Eren raised an eyebrow, shooting him an irritated look. "What now Floch? Are you here to tell me to take a shot again?" The ginger-haired’s girlfriend giggled once again and kissed Floch’s cheek. Floch laughed and swatted her away, though he missed by a long shot. "Someone's at the door," a thumb pointing to the den. "wouldchumind ge'in it?" another giggle. The girl nodded sloshily. "Yesss! Erenieee get 'em door, please. Be a dearrrrr."

Eren frowned and stared at them menacingly, earning no reaction from the two as they were mad drunk. "You were just in the den," Floch’s eyes widened. "My lovey wovey-we was in the den?" His girlfriend’s mouth went into an O. "Di'nt notice tha'!"

Eren sighed and stood up. He miraculously got through the throng of bodies and to the front door. "Yes?" he called out exasperated, not knowing who was outside.

"Do you want cookies?"

Eren turned and looked to see a little raven-haired girl, a girl scout no less, a blonde-haired boy pulling on a trolley who looked significantly shorter than him, wearing rimmed glasses, and an overall appearance whom his “friends” would immediately label as a nerd they had to be a few feet away from if they saw him and lastly, a girl who looked very tired and very done with life.

Beautiful (h/c)-colored hair, her eyes looked like the starry night sky, twinkling as he catches her gaze and a smile that looked forced, but warm all the same.  

A girl who was just absolutely fucking gorgeous.

Eren was captivated. His heart was beating like crazy and he could feel his ears turn red. He would make a fool of himself if he looked red as a tomato right now.

"Um," The girl peeked inside and grimaced, squeezing the hand that was her little sister's shoulder and catching Eren’s gaze. "Mikasa, I don't think these kinds of guys would want cookies."

“Unless they're pot cookies,” Eren almost said. Mikasa pouted and widened her eyes at Eren.

The older girl crouched down and frantically covered her little sister’s eyes. "Nopenopenope, Mi, don't pull that on him."

"But (Y/N)!"

(Y/N).

Her name was (Y/N).

Eren smiled sincerely (for the first time today) and leaned back inside to the drawer by the door to grab the extra cash he and his roommates put there for emergency pizza and stuff. "You know what? You're absolutely brilliant at selling cookies. I'll take one."

Mikasa smiled back at him cheekily and tugged her older sister’s hand. "See, (Y/N)?! He wants some! Go get 'em!”

The raven-haired girl then turned to the blonde teen, practically jumping up and down. “Armin look! We sold another one!"

“We did!” The boy who was apparently named Armin, clapped his hands together, then gave the little girl a high five. “You’re a natural at this Mikasa!”

(Y/N) looked at Eren, then Mikasa, and sighed. She grabbed a bag from the trolley Armin was dragging around and pulled out a box of cookies. Eren grabbed them slowly from her, their hands almost touching as he gave (Y/N) a small smile. The (h/c) girl blushed lightly, though not visible enough for the brunette to notice.

"Hope to see you again!" Eren called out when the siblings said their thank you's and bid farewell.

And, this time, even for the slightest moment, Eren’s serotonin levels were going straight through the roof. His heart was still beating loudly, almost in sync with the trash music his roommates were blaring on the speakers. and for a moment, even just for a moment. 

He felt genuine happiness that he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

 The three of you continue to walk animatedly, now that the coast was clear and the guy from earlier wasn’t within earshot, your blonde friend just had to break the silence.

 Armin smiles, pushing his glasses up to the crook of his nose. “(Y/N), you did see how he looked at you right?” The blonde chuckles softly, catching his best friend off guard.

 You blinked. “Him?” You try to stop yourself from smiling, blushing profusely. “Geez Armin, I don’t even know his name yet.”

 “I’ll bet you 100 bucks that he goes to our Uni.”

 “Even if he does, it’s not like we’ll talk to him or anything. Judging from the place he lives in and the people he was hanging out with, we’re in two completely different worlds.” You shook your head in denial, holding Mikasa’s hand, your interlocked arms swinging playfully. Armin gives you a knowing look in response.

 Mikasa continued to wave back at the boy whom they had just sold cookies too. (Y/N) looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Wasn’t he nice (Y/N)?” Mikasa asks her older sister. (Y/N) returned her sister a small smile, “He was.”

 "I hope we see him again!"

"I'm sure we will."

 The day of Eren’s dreaded finals finally arrive.

He has prepared tirelessly for this. Hours upon hours of hard work. But, before he finally gets his well-deserved sleep, he has a few more hours to cram and absorb more knowledge for his exams.

So, what better way to do so than head straight to the library as soon as it opens at 6 AM?

This time, no one was going to bother him. No annoying roommates and no distractions.

Eren heads over to a table near the coffee and snack machines. He puts down his bag on a seat next to him, and begins to study once again. Looking through the course materials and the lessons that he still didn’t quite understand. Eren was so absorbed with studying and relying on his gut feeling that no other student in this university would think of going to the library at 6 AM on the day of finals… then he’s wrong. Very wrong. 

 “Sasha, should you even be eating mashed potato this early in the morning?” Armin asks the brunette worriedly, a huge tone of concern in his voice.

“Armin! Don’t chu worry! I ate heavy breakfast! Bacon, Eggs, and Toast! Did you not see me in the kitchen!?” She reassures her blonde friend, continuing to scoop up the mashed potato on a reusable cup.

“Liar.” Connie hissed, narrowing his eyes. “I was awake since 4 AM. Not once did I see you sneak into the kitchen until (Y/N) woke you up.”

“Atatata. Can we… stop with the negative vibes for a second?” Jean tries to become the mediator by holding his hands up against his two friends who were about to start an argument. “It’s finals week. We have to keep a clear mind, body and soul-“

“Jean, you know that’s BS.” You yawn widely, still practically half-asleep.

“Oh, come on! Can’t you just let me be positive just this once!? If we fail this exam I’m going to blame you!“

The five of you continue to talk mindlessly on the way to the library. Connie pushes the glass door open, very much excited to have this huge library all to yourselves.

Until…

There was someone already there.

Your eyes immediately come into contact with Eren’s. His radiant jade eyes staring into yours, mouth practically agape, his hands holding on to wooden chopsticks as the hot air of instant ramen breezes through his face.

“Oh?” Connie blinks. “Guess we aren’t the first ones here then.” He whistles.

“(Y/N)!” Armin nudges you in the arm in an attempt to tease you. “Guess your wish came true huh? We did see him again! By himself too!”

“W-what am I supposed to do exactly?” You turn to Armin, speaking in a hushed whisper.  

“Say thank you to him! Offer him to go on a boba date or something!”

“You got the Sasha seal of approval (Y/N)! He’s hot!” Sasha motions you a thumbs up and you can’t help but feel yourself already wanting to die of embarrassment.

The four of them slightly push you towards his table. With your friends cornering you like this, there was no way of escaping this.

All you had to do was talk to him and properly thank him for buying cookies from your little sister.

That was it.

No need for any extra ad-libs or poor and bad attempts of flirtation.

Just thank him (Y/N).

You can do this.

You breathe a hefty sigh then approach his table with confidence. The brunette continues to look up at you whilst turning the page of his reviewer that he wasn’t even looking at.

“Hi again! I just wanted to thank you properly for helping my sister and I, out the other day. Mikasa really appreciated the gesture you did for her, and she couldn’t stop talking about you to our parents since we saw you. You see, none of the other girl scouts want to be paired up with my sister because they think she’s an emotionless and monotonous freak. They’re really mean to her but she really wants to continue being a girl scout so my friend and I accompany her whenever she has to sell cookies!”

“It’s N-no problem!” Eren quickly replies, running a hand through his hair. “Why would they say such horrible things to your sister like that? Judging from the way she acted in front of me, she was quite the opposite. In a positive way of course! Those kids are just assholes who are intimidated because another girl their age is seemingly better than them.”

You giggle in response. “Thank you. I’ll tell Mikasa that you said that!” 

There was short silence for a few seconds until you realized that you forgot to say something. 

“Ah! I’m (Y/N) (L/N) by the way!”

“Eren.” He smiles, reaching his hand out to you for you to shake. You grip his strong and calloused hand firmly, and Eren could feel his ears turning red again while you were about to blush as red as a tomato.

You hear your friends snickering in the background and you took this as a sign to go back to your table. “I guess, I’ll see you around campus?” You ask, tilting your head. For, you actually really wanted to see him again after this.

“Yea! I’ll be seeing you!” He grins widely, watching you leave where he was seated. His smile then envelops into a frown as soon as you went away then he goes back to studying.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” Connie whispers loudly, calling you over by waving his hand. Why was this dunce being so painfully obvious? “Ask him if he’s looking for an apartment or if he wants to live with us!”

“Already!?” You ask in disbelief, a bit shocked by what Connie had just said. He scoots to the left, as you take a seat between him and Sasha. “Guys, you’ve known him for like… 3 minutes. Only Armin and I actually interacted with him before this.”

“He has to pass the vibe check first.” Jean shrugs, sipping on an iced expresso. “But, yeah, he does seem alright from a few feet away.”

“Come on (Y/N)! Ask him!” Sasha nods approvingly. “It’s weird that he’s studying alone like this while we’re in another table trying to remain unaware that he looks lonely as hell.”

“UMmMM… maybe he wants to study alone because that’s the only way he can focus? That’s a thing that normal people do, Sasha.” You remark sarcastically, trying to think up of more reasons to not approach him again.

Armin clears his throat, “Look, (Y/N), it won’t hurt to try right? Besides, don’t you feel a tiny bit sorry for him? He does seem lonely and you do have a crush on him so… more ways to interact with him right?”

Your shoulders slump and you breathe a defeated sigh. “Okay okay fine.” You make your way to Eren’s table again but before you do, you turn to your friends. “By the way, I don’t really have a crush on him just yet. I just find him cute okay?”

“Yeah yeah.” They say in unison as you continue to walk back to the brunette’s table.

“Hi again Eren!” You wave and try your best not to fumble or look painfully obvious that you were infatuated by him. He looks up and you try your best not to smile like a weirdo.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Would you like to come over to our table and study with us?”

To be continued.