#my internal clock is in shambles right now

[xivymoonartx]

I'm drawing ghirahim in a one of those dramatic robes (you know the one) and it made me think of a Black Widow au where Ghirahim keeps trying to kill Link unsuccessfully. The cops will be interrigating Ghirahim about his missing husband, and halfway through his dramatic monologue Link bursts into the room covered in blood and Ghirahim is just like

[leftoverenvy]

Contaminated - Part 5

Summary: Emily and JJ's marriage is in shambles, so Emily turns to an unlikely source of comfort: her student.  To add gasoline to the fire, Emily starts an affair.  A songfic inspired by Contaminated by BANKS.

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x OC; Prof! Emily x POC OC; Emily Prentiss x Jennifer "JJ" Jareau

Warnings: smut (18+); heavy angst; power dynamic; age gap (unspecified – but all over 18); power imbalance; professor - student; cheating; marital arguing

Word Count: 7k

Tumblr Masterlist | Wattpad

Taglist: @ssa-sapphic 🧸; @reidselle 🦭; @gaelic-symphony 🎻 ; @hotchs-bitch 🦆 ; @multiverse-mxdness 🧌 ; @madelineleong

Part 5

I didn't hear from Liv again that night.  I could see that she had read my text message asking her to come back, but she left me hanging all night.  And all the next day. I tried to push it from my mind.  She just needed a few days to reset.  We'd find our way back like we had before.

I thought I'd be able to signal to her in class that I wanted to apologize, that we could be more – it was just a little complicated right now.  But when Tuesday came, I scoured the lecture hall for her, and her usual seat was empty.  I tried not to let it get me too down.  I shouldn't care so much whether a student was in class.  But she wasn't just any student.  I needed to see with my own eyes that she was okay.  Her absence hurt more than the devastation on her face this weekend.

Wednesday, I immersed myself in grading and catching up on sociology journals.  I couldn't let myself think about Olivia and what she was feeling.  It was maddening that my consistent fling was now just as rocky as my marriage.  I chuckled darkly.  Hadn't I started an affair to get away from my crumbling marriage?

I sent Liv a text every morning.  I didn't want her to feel suffocated, but I also needed her to come back and let me explain myself.  It frustrated me that she wouldn't give me the chance.  Without Liv, my mind was too loud; without Liv, my bed was too cold.

On Thursday, I watched the doorway of the lecture hall like a hawk.  My intense gaze gave some students pause, but I couldn't bring myself to care what they thought of me.  I needed to see wildly curly hair and mocha skin – I needed to see brightly twinkling eyes and teasing lips.  When the ingress of students had slowed, I directed my eyes up to the clock hanging above the door.  The hands had struck the start of the hour; it was time to begin lecturing.

I sighed in disappointment and pulled my notes from my briefcase.  This week's lectures felt pointless without Liv staring at me from across the room with her distracting winks and smirks.  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.  I had a duty to the other seventy or so students to be a good lecturer; Liv wasn't my only student.

Without bothering to look up from my notes, I greeted the class and started my lecture.  I heard a few students shuffling around, hurriedly pulling computers and notebooks out to take notes.  At least I wasn't the only one feeling unprepared for this lecture.  I internally rolled my eyes at how dramatic I was being and looked up to face this hall of students waiting for me to dive into today's material.

I stopped breathing.  There she was.  She must have slipped in while I was taking notes out of my briefcase.  Silence filled the lecture hall interrupted only by creaking seats and throats clearing from the awkward tension emanating from the front of the room. 

Liv looked miserable.  Dark rings surrounded her eyes, and her hair was thrown haphazardly on top of her head.  My brows furrowed in confusion.  She had walked out.  Why did she look so sad?

Throughout the lecture I tried to catch her eye, to apologize with my eyes.  But each time we made eye contact, she dropped her gaze to take overly careful notes.  Liv went from eye fucking me from across the room one week to averting her eyes any time I remotely looked in her direction today.  I was frustrated to be thwarted at every attempt to even look at her.  She was hiding from me. 

I had hoped to ask her to stay after class, but she left class 2 minutes early.  I couldn't stop class to ask her to stay in front of seventy-three other people.  I was desperate, but not that desperate.   After all, her ignoring me was far nicer than I deserved.

Over the next week, nothing changed.  She couldn't stand to look at me, and I couldn't get her to respond to any of my many text messages.  Even though I desperately needed to lose myself in her, I backed off.  She clearly wanted space, so I'd give that to her.

_ _ _

The following week, I thought I'd lose my mind.  I had driven to that spot out in the country where I fucked her in my backseat.  I put my favorite sad record on and laid down in the backseat to remember what I had had just a few weeks ago.  I always compared her eyes to the night sky.  Liv was my star, always shining brightly.  Sparkling.  Just like everything I touched, she was tarnished and gone.

Though Liv hadn't skipped any more classes, I knew better than to expect to see her sweet smile or lustful eyes.  Each afternoon, I started class by passing my eyes sadly over her section to check if she was there.  While lecturing, I swept my eyes over her, tracking how she was holding up.  Though not as haggard as the first day, she didn't look like herself; she looked about as well as I felt.  I tried my best not to stare at only her during class, though I was tempted every day.  Even sad, she was achingly beautiful. 

Towards the end of lecture, out of the corner of my eye I saw slight movement.  I would quickly glance over to Liv – as I always did – and then move on to whoever had raised their hand.  My eyes widened in shock to see Liv's hand in the air.  She oozed timidity: her shoulders were hunched, her arm half fell as soon as my eyes fell on her.  Her lip was caught between her teeth, biting it out of nerves.  I considered not calling on her, because to hear her voice again would be to open that wound back up.  I had only just gotten used to the idea of not talking to her.  But I needed her like an addiction.  I dismissed the ludicrous idea of not calling on her as quickly as it had entered my head.

"Yes, Miss Martin?"

"Um."  She cleared her throat unnecessarily.  "I'm getting hung up on law enforcement's reliance on forensics, especially in anticipation of trial, and what you'd do as a profiler when the forensic evidence isn't matching up with the psychological profile."  I leaned against the podium and slid my glasses halfway down my nose to look at her properly.  She sounded so fucking sexy speaking to me about forensics and profiling.  I could eat her alive.

I found myself back at this familiar crossroads.  Our fate, once again, rested in my selfish hands.  I felt like a sniper lying in wait, ready for her to step into my crosshairs so I could pull the trigger. 

The remaining five minutes of class were sufficient to answer this question in a satisfactory way for a freshman-level course.  But that wouldn't get me close to her again.  Calculated, like a true hunter, I heard myself answer, "See me in office hours."  Her eyes widened with panic.  Now it was her decision to make.  See me alone, or don't.  "Class dismissed."

Students started packing up quickly, happy to be let out early.  Meanwhile, Olivia sat frozen in her seat, her mouth hung open just slightly.  I shoved my notes back into my briefcase, grabbed my water bottle, and winked at her as I made my way to the exit.

I sat in my office, nerves inexplicably making my palms sweat and my stomach turn.  Would she really come?  What if she felt cornered into coming just to get her question answered?  Had I sacrificed her education just to get closer to her?  I had worked myself up so bad I nearly packed up to go home when she poked her head around the corner.

"Professor?"  I exhaled in relief.

"Ahh, Liv.  Come in, please."  I wiped my hands on my pants and gestured for her to have a seat in the chair across from my desk.  We stared awkwardly at each other, neither knowing how to break the ice.  She sat rigid in her chair, her backpack still clasped tightly in her hands.

"That was a very astute question you asked during class," I noted, figuring a little praise couldn't hurt.  She smiled slightly and relaxed into the chair, opening her backpack to pull some papers out.

"Thank you," she said cautiously.  This version of Liv was a stark departure from the one that had last entered my office.  Just a two weeks ago she had let me eat her out in the very chair she was currently sitting in.  The memory made me smirk softly.

I sat back in my chair and looked at her with an eyebrow raised.  "That isn't a topic covered in the assigned readings."  She didn't offer an explanation, so I further prompted, "So what drove you to inquire about this topic?"

"Well," she said sheepishly, "I actually chose this for my final paper topic…"

"Ahh," I interrupted in understanding.

"I was wondering…"  I only looked at her, eyes raking over her chest covered in tight, stretched cotton.  She trailed her words as she caught sight of my low gaze, her breath catching in her throat softly.

"Yes?" I asked, amused by how easily I could fluster her.

"Since this isn't a topic covered by our textbook, I was wondering if you could take a look at it before the due date and give some feedback?  I don't want to miss something more nuanced about this topic simply because I'm a freshman."

"Why choose it at all then?" I wondered aloud.

A smile teased at the corner of her mouth, and happiness tickled me like a feather.  I didn't dare let myself believe we would get back to normal so easily, but that smile hinted at a brighter future than the one I believed I had before she walked into my office.  "Perhaps you've noticed that my tastes are more…advanced than my peers."  Was she flirting?

Involuntarily, my head tilted slightly as if my growing smile forced it to.  "I do believe I've noticed that, Miss Martin."  I paused, trying to right the ship.  It was strange to be separated from her like this.  My desk had never felt like a barrier before.  In fact, I had bent her over it countless times before.  But today, it felt like a mountain between us.  It was a necessary reminder that she needed me to be her professor, not her lover.  She had come here for a legitimate, school-related reason – I needed to rein it in.

I motioned for her to hand me the paper.  I put my glasses on and flipped through the headings of the paper to get a feel for the direction she went in.  It was ambitious for a freshman, and I was excited to read it.  "I'll take a look at it this weekend."  I quickly grabbed a pen to write myself a note so I didn't forget to edit this for her.  "Thank you for being proactive and not waiting until the last minute.  You'll get much better feedback this way."

She nodded slowly, not saying anything else.  I sat back and looked at her over my glasses, silently gauging whether her school business was finished.  She looked so beautiful today. The cotton, green, wrap shirt hugged her chest so deliciously.  Though it was usually her habit, I bit at my lip because I longed to sink my teeth into her.  But that was off limits, so I settled for staring at her like a lion circling a wounded antelope.

I was itching to ask about us, about where we stood.  And all the while, I couldn't stop yearning to taste her.  So I stuck the end of the pen in my mouth to chew softly on the cap, wishing I was nibbling on her.  This pen would have to do.  She shifted her weight, clearly uneasy under my intense stare.  Her chest rose and fell heavily; I could hear her steady exhales.  I gripped the arms of my desk chair tightly while I continued to stare at her over my glasses.  I was about to lose my mind.  I wanted her.

She inhaled shakily and said, "I appreciate you taking the time to do that.  I know it wasn't marked in the syllabus that you would."  I hadn't included it in the syllabus because students never exercised the opportunity anyway.  I was, once again, impressed by the type of student she was.  "Thank you, Emily."  I took the use of my first name as a green light, a signal that it was safe to proceed away from school and talk about us.

I took my glasses off and set them gently on top of her paper.  I moved around the desk to sit in the chair next to her.  The conversation I wanted to have was not professional, and it would be awkward for her.  But I needed to be closer to her.

"Liv," I started.  "I'm sorry."

"Em, I-"

"Wait," I interrupted, holding a hand up.  I stood up and quietly closed my office door.  No curious ears needed to hear this conversation.

"I owe you an apology.  You can tell me to fuck off right after, and I won't bring it up again, I won't bring us up again.  But I'm sorry.  I never meant to string you along like that."

"Okay…" she trailed off, "So where does that leave us?"

"Wherever you want it to leave us."

She looked at me skeptically.  "So if I said I wanted nothing to do with you?"

A pang of hurt twisted my stomach.  "I'd mark your paper, email it back to you, and never speak to you again."

She grimaced, obviously not thrilled with that idea either.  "I don't know if I can go back to how things were."

"What do you want?" I asked.

"You," she whispered, looking down.

I steeled myself to start lying.  "You've got me."

"Can you promise me something?" she asked tentatively.

"Anything," I promised.  I knew this was dangerous territory.  I knew what she was about to ask, and I knew the next things I was about to say would be more lies.  But I needed this.  This time apart had been hell, and I'd do anything to take it back.

"Be with me," she begged.  "Leave your wife and be with me."

I needed to tread these waters carefully.  One misstep could be disastrous.  Again.  "You're so special to me," I whispered, cupping her face.

"Then take me out," she bulldozed, pushing my hand off her face.  "I'm tired of being your little secret."  I could tell she was getting worked up.  I needed her to calm down because I couldn't stand for her to leave again.  I'd say whatever to get her to calm down, to believe that I was committed to her.  I'd bend the truth to shape a future with her.

I sighed.  This was messy.  Things with Olivia weren't supposed to be this messy; they were supposed to be fun, easy.  "Gimme some time, baby."  I grabbed her hand and stroked the skin over her knuckles.  "I promise things are over with my wife."  She exhaled in relief.  "But these things take time." 

She looked away, her eyes flooding with tears I knew she'd fight tooth and nail to hold back.  "Hey, look at me," I cooed softly.  Tears slipped down her perfect face, and I wiped them for her.  "I need some trust here.  I'm in this with you.  I'm not trying to hide you away like a dirty secret.  It's just more complicated than how we feel about each other.  But you mean more to me than some cheap affair." 

"Okay."

My stomach twisted, not at the fact that I lied, but at the ease with which I was able to do so.  Before, I had lied by omission or fibbed gently.  And now I had looked her straight in the eye and lied – lied about what this was, what it meant to me.  But I just needed this a little bit longer.  Why start caring now when our entire relationship was built on a foundation of lies?

"I missed you," she admitted.

"I missed you, too, Liv."

"No, Emily.  I missed you." 

"Yeah?"  I smirked and leaned in to kiss her.  Like our first, I hovered my mouth over hers, waiting to see if she would pull away.  And like our first, she closed the distance and kissed me.

I sighed into her kiss, thankful for her second, second chance.  I pushed her back onto her chair and straddled her lap.  Her hands quickly untucked my shirt to touch any part of my bare skin that she could.  I continued to kiss her, lapping at her mouth relentlessly.  I had missed this.

I trailed my lips down her jaw, moving to suck on her earlobe.  "Emily please," she begged, panting into my neck.

"Please what?" I smirked.

"Don't tease.  It's been too long."  I stood up, pulling her with me and pushed her onto my desk.  I climbed up to hover over her.  "Shirt off, please," she asked, her fingers already pulling at my shirt.  I whipped my blazer off and pulled my shirt over my head.  She sighed at the feeling of my skin on hers.

I unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down her hips halfway.  We'd have to make this quick; we had already taken off too many clothes for a fuck in a public place, but then she pulled her own shirt off, and I groaned.  She was delicious, and I would devour her.

I pushed my hand down her pants, the angle awkward from me not bothering to pull her jeans all the way off.  "Fuck me right now," she begged.  I pushed a finger between her lips, testing to see how wet she was. 

"Jesus," I hissed into her neck.  She was soaked.

As I pushed my fingers into her, she started moaning too loudly.  I didn't want us to get caught.  It had been a close call the first time we fucked in the office, and I didn't want a repeat.  "You know the rules, baby.  Be quiet."  Her mouth latched onto my collarbone.  As she got closer and closer, she sucked against my skin harder.  It started to get tender, but then I felt her nails dig into my skin, the sharp sting from the new lines down my back distracting me from the sting of my collarbone. 

I felt her stop breathing, her muscles coiling tightly.  She threw her head back – the soft thud against the wood making me wonder if it hurt – and gripped my shoulders roughly.  "God, Em," she whispered.  "That was incredible."  I pulled my fingers out of her, sucked her wetness off my fingers, and climbed off the desk.  I knew from the first time that it would be best not to linger in here with our clothes off. 

Once I had quickly dressed, I pulled her down to the edge of the desk and helped her settle back on her feet.  I pulled her jeans into place and buttoned them for her.  "Come over," I said, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.  I wasn't done with her.  "Stay the night with me tonight."

"I can't tonight," she pouted.  "I promised Kara we'd get dinner."

"Come over after," I tried again, nipping at her earlobe.  Into her ear I whispered, "I'll make it worth your while…"

She groaned, hips bucking into mine.  "Em, please.  I can't cancel again.  Tomorrow?"

"Definitely," I agreed.  I nipped a final time at her neck as payback for earlier; my collarbone was still a little sore.  I helped pull her top over her head, subtly pulling her tight shirt higher than it had been when she had first entered my office.

"Can I text you?"  Her nerves from earlier had returned.

"Of course, Liv.  Have fun tonight."  With a final kiss, she was walking out of my office, a sway in her hips that had been lacking the last week and a half.

_ _ _

I felt so much better after smoothing things over with Liv.  I came home a refreshed woman.  I hummed to myself as I got ready for bed, smoothing a restorative oil into my hair.  I idly wondered if I should stop dying it – the constant dying was badly damaging it.  In preparation for tomorrow, I smoothed my favorite lotion over my skin, knowing it would make my skin irresistibly soft.  As I stood up from putting lotion on my legs, I yelped in shock at seeing JJ's reflection in the mirror.

"Jesus!" I gasped, a hand flying to my pounding heart.  "JJ you scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry.  I thought you heard me coming."

"No," I snipped.  "I didn't.  What are you doing home?"

"I live here," she reminded me.  But she hadn't been home in about a month.  It hit me that I hadn't seen my wife in a month.  How had it taken me this long to realize?

"Right…" I mused.  Suddenly, I felt extremely vulnerable naked.  I reached for my robe to cover up, sensing a fight as one senses an approaching storm.  I saw the clouds darken in her eyes – I saw the moment when she registered the bruise on my collarbone.

Harshly, JJ asked, "You think you can cover that up?  You think I didn't already see it?"

"See what?"  But I knew what she meant.  I had felt the sting from the hot water of my shower on the scratches Liv etched into my back earlier this afternoon.  JJ had undoubtedly seen both.

"How long?" she demanded to know.  When I didn't respond, she crossed her arms.

"How long what?"  My mind was reeling.  I wasn't prepared for her to find out this way.  I hadn't prepared what I was going to say.

"How long?" she growled out.

I slumped against the counter.  This was the reckoning.  I had done this, and it was time to face the consequences.  "The first time?  Or when we really started the affair?"

"Does it matter?!" she asked incredulously.  I winced because no, no it didn't.

"Since December," I whispered, head down.

She chuckled humorlessly.  "God, Em! I" - she paused and shook her head in disbelief - "I can't believe you!"

I couldn't respond.  I couldn't believe it either.  I had known it was wrong from the start; I had no idea how I ended up here.  I put my head in my hand, my middle finger and thumb at the corners of my eyes trying to keep the tears at bay.  I had never been more frustrated with myself.

"Her or me."

I snapped my head up.  "What?" I hissed. 

She issued her ultimatum again: "Her or me, Emily.  This can't keep going on.  You made a promise to me."

I laughed in her face.  "A promise?" I repeated.  "What about your promise to me, JJ?  You don't think I've known about Will since December?"  She blanched, her eyes wide and darting back and forth between mine.

"I knew you were snooping through my phone!" she diverted.

"Are you kidding me?  You're mad about me finding out you were cheating because I saw your text messages?"

"So you just decided to throw away a year of marriage because I made a mistake?" 

Rage coiled inside of me.  "'A year of marriage?'" I asked in disbelief.  "JJ, we were together two years before that!  I'm not 'throwing away' anything."

"You cheated," she pointed out again.

"So did you!" I screamed back.  I was fed up with her double standard.  It didn't escape my notice either that every time she referred to Will, it was a "mistake," but I was cheating.  She had started this; I was incensed by the injustice.

"And that makes it okay?"

I deflated, moving into our bedroom to sit on the edge of the bed.  No.  Nothing excused this. "We aren't okay, Jayje," I whispered.

She sighed and sat next to me on the bed.  "I know."  I grabbed her hand, finally finding that anchor I had been looking for all those months ago.  It was reassuring to hear her acknowledge something was wrong.  It made me feel better to hear that it wasn't all in my head.

"I'm sorry."  I choked on emotion.  She didn't say anything.  "Can we fix this?  Are we too far gone?"

"I told you: her or me.  I need to know she isn't important to you.  You made a promise to me, a vow," she reminded again.  I looked down to our hands clasped together, the gold and silver of our wedding bands gleaming in the dim light.  That thin ring of metal could have been a two-ton sheet of steel for how it felt pressing against me.  It was a painful reminder I had broken our most sacred vow – it didn't matter that she broke it first.  I fucked up.

"I'll break it off, JJ.  Tomorrow.  I promise."

"Okay."

I waited a few seconds for her assurance that she would break things off with Will.  Nothing came.  "Jayje?"

"What?"

"…Are you going to break things off with Will?"

"Of course," she said through clenched teeth.  "I don't want to do it over the phone.  So I will next time I see him."

I nodded, getting lost in thought.  It all felt so daunting.  How did one go about fixing a marriage in shambles?  I couldn't remember how we had built something from nothing.  How could we build upon a foundation of rubble?  Wouldn't we always be cracked?  "We can do this, right JJ?"

"Right," she agreed.  But she sounded about as sure as I felt.

_ _ _

Of course I did not look forward to telling Liv this was over.  It was made even worse by the fact that just over 24 hours ago I had told her that she meant more to me than a fling.  There was no reason to lie to her like that, but I had.  This would be the last straw.  She'd never forgive me for this one.

I sat in my car, idling in the driveway, my hand resting on the gear shift.  I couldn't make myself put it into gear to go pick up Liv.  My phone buzzed on my lap, the message scrolling across the screen on my dash: "I'm outside. No rush"  I sighed and put the car in reverse and headed out.  I couldn't keep putting this off.  JJ had left for a case and would fly out to Will after the case to end things with him.  I had to do this for JJ, for us.  I owed it to JJ to try.  We had both promised to leave the affairs behind and move forward together.  That's what marriage meant.

When I pulled up in front of Liv's dorm, she slid in with a radiant smile and her usual, cheerful, "Hi!"  Her sweet innocence shattered my heart.  I had wanted to ruin her, but not like this.  I never wanted to shatter her completely.  "What's wrong?"  It felt like salt in the wound to know that she could read me so well.

"We have to end this."  Like ripping off a Band-Aid, it'd be better to be quick and direct.  She inhaled sharply but said nothing.  I didn't know how much I should tell her – how much she would want to know – so I just left it at that.  I would let her process as long as she needed.

"Why?" she whispered in horror. 

"This isn't appropriate."  It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't entirely truthful either.

"Don't."  The anger in her voice startled me.  She was always so gentle.  "Don't you lie to me Emily Prentiss.  Not after what you promised yesterday."

"I'm sorry," I told her honestly.  "I never meant for this to get so messy."  She scoffed.

Neither of us said anything for a few minutes; the smooth hum of the engine and her shaky exhales were the only sounds in the car.  "Why?  What happened to change everything in a day?"

"JJ came home," I admitted, "My wife," I corrected.  I realized I never told her JJ's name.  "And we're going to try to work through this."

"Does she know?  Does she know about me?"

"Yes."

"God!" she exclaimed in frustration, wiping harshly at the fresh tears on her face.  "What about me, Em?  Don't sit there and tell me you don't want this too."

"She's my wife, Liv."  Surely she could understand that that meant something, that I couldn't just throw that away lightly.  "I'm really sorry about yesterday.  I didn't mean to mislead you."

"Oh no!  How could I have possibly been misled by 'I promise things are over with my wife?'"  She paused for a millisecond and continued, "Oh, and let's not forget 'You're special to me; you mean more to me than some cheap affair.'"

Each of my own words thrown back at me felt like a slap in the face.  "I'll never be able to tell you how sorry I am."

"Then don't do this, Emily," she begged.  "We have something here.  You just have to let me in."

"I can't.  I have to do this, Liv.  I made her a promise."  I winced, waiting for her sharp words.

Softly, defeated, "You made me a promise too, Em."  Somehow her resigned, broken voice hurt me more than her anger.

I rested my elbow on the center console and put my head in my hand.  "I know, baby.  I'm so sorry."

"Is that all you're going to say?  It doesn't matter how sorry you are, Emily.  It hurts that you're choosing her over me."

"I have to try," I whispered.  For the first time, I looked into her eyes.  Those deep, chocolate eyes I loved so much.  "I'm sorry, Olivia.  I have to at least try to make things work with my wife."

"You swore it was over.  Just yesterday, you swore it was over."  The tears streamed down her face in earnest now.

"I thought it was," I said genuinely, but if I were her, I wouldn't believe me.  I had told her too many lies by this point.

"What changed?  Was it because I didn't come over last night?"

"No!" I rushed out.  I didn't want her thinking this was her fault.  She was such an angel, so innocent thinking this was on her.  "JJ came home last night, and we fought.  That's not new," I said as an afterthought, "But she found out about you, and we both agreed to try to move past this, to work on us."

"And your mind is made up?"  No.  I still wasn't convinced that JJ and I could move past this, but it wouldn't help Olivia move on to know that.

One final time, I lied. "Yes."

_ _ _

Seeing Olivia in class was awkward.  I didn't know where to look while I was lecturing.  I couldn't stare at her, no matter how badly I wanted to.  And lord did I want to.  She looked delicious wearing my favorite skirt.  It was the same skirt that had nearly ended my new career.

She strutted down the aisle after class, her endless legs on full display.  That skirt was indecent.  Because she was walking towards me, she was swaying her hips enticingly.  She knew exactly what she was doing.  If I had been a better woman, I wouldn't have let it get to me.

"Professor?  I have a question…"  She bit her lip and looked at me through heavy, flirty lashes.

"Unfortunately," I said packing up my bag, "I am in a rush.  Could you come up for office hours?"  The only rush I was in was to get her alone.

"Of course.  That's a great suggestion, Professor."  Her emphasis sent a shiver up my spine.  "I'll meet you up there," she said with a wink.  And then she turned on her heel and sauntered back up the aisle out of the classroom.  My palms itched to spank her.

I raced across campus and took the stairs up to my office two at a time.  I beat Liv to my office, but I kept my door closed.  I didn't want anyone thinking they were welcome.  I texted her to just come in when she got here.  Five minutes later, when I was about to text her again, she slipped in my office, closing the door behind her softly.

I didn't bother greeting her.  "You're in trouble."

"Why?!"  I stood up and crossed around the desk to grab her.  I pulled her close and captured her lips in a steamy kiss.  I sucked harshly at her lip while I kneaded her hip.

"This skirt," I said tugging on it lightly, "Is inappropriate for class."

She smirked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.  "Last time I checked, Professor, there was no dress code at Georgetown University."

"You were woefully misinformed, my dear."  I spun her around and pushed her front to my desk, bending her over.  "You see," I continued, backing away to get a better look at her.  "This skirt barely covers your ass."  I ran my fingers up her thighs, teasing her over her thong.

"I didn't know there was a sociology department uniform."

I flipped her skirt up, revealing her round ass to me.  I nearly moaned.  "I didn't know students got to talk back so brazenly to their professors."  I spanked her softly – I didn't need echoing slaps to draw anyone's attention to my office.  "My my, the code of conduct has really relaxed since I was a university student."

She pushed her hips back, looking for more.  "Perhaps the standards in New Haven are different than here in DC."  The corner of my mouth turned up into a half-smile realizing she had googled my resumé.

"Perhaps they are," I mused.  I pushed her thong to the side and traced a finger up her wet slit.  Leaning down, covering her body with my own, I whispered, "Don't you dare make a sound.  Do you understand?"

"I'll try," she whimpered.

I spanked her again, this time a little harder.  The loud slap made me wince.  I hoped these office walls were thick.  "You'd be wise to listen this time, Liv."  I pushed my fingers in her slowly.  I kissed along her ear and commanded, "Don't get us caught, baby."  And then I started moving my fingers.

She whimpered quietly, pressing her face down into my hard, wooden desk.  Her arms reached up to grip the edge of the desk, her fingers turning lighter from gripping so hard.  "Em!" she gasped softly.

After several minutes of driving into her, I felt her tensing.  "Come on baby," I coaxed, my other hand moving around to touch her clit.  "Cum for me."   She whimpered again, and I shushed her.

"It's no fair when you talk to me like that," she panted.  "How am I supposed to stay quiet when you do that?"

I smiled in pride, my ego loving that she was at my mercy.  "Try harder."  And then I curled my fingers how she liked and bit at her shoulder.

"Fuck!"

"Shh," I warned, "You don't want anyone to walk in here, now do you?"

"No," she moaned.  "Please, don't stop."

"Then be quiet for me.  You can cum if you're quiet, baby."

She clawed at the wooden desk, crumpling papers in her desperate hands.  "Em, god!  I'm so close!"  And then she went silent, her muscles clenching around my fingers rapidly.

I slowed my fingers to let her come down from her high.  She stood up, fixed her thong and skirt, and then sat on my desk in front of me.  I slid her legs open so I could step closer.  I tilted her chin up with my clean hand and then slid my fingers in her mouth.  If she could get my fingers all wet, she could clean them up.  She moaned around my fingers, her eyes closing as she sucked harder.

I wrenched my fingers out of her mouth and kissed her hard.  I poked my tongue in her mouth to get a taste of her; I would never get enough of her.

She pulled back.  "If this is what I get when I'm in trouble, maybe I should get in trouble more often."

I moved out of her embrace to sit in my office chair, smoothing out the papers she had creased.  She flopped back into the chair across from my desk, and asked, "Can we-"  A knock interrupted her question.

Both of our eyes widened.  I cleared my throat and pushed things back into place on my desk while Liv smoothed her hair down.  "Come in," I called.

"Emily I- Oh!"  Another department professor stopped.  "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were meeting with someone."

"Private conversation," I responded, hoping he'd leave quickly.

"I'll come back later," he said confused, looking back and forth between us.  But when he left, he didn't close the door behind him all the way.

"That was close," Liv whispered.  I nodded, incapable of saying anything else.  That had been incredibly stupid; we could have gotten caught so easily.  If he had knocked just two minutes before… "I better head out," Liv interrupted my spiral.

"I don't want to see that skirt again," I said icily.

"Ever?" she asked, a knowing gleam in her eye.

"At school," I amended, and she smirked.  "Come over later tonight," I told her.  I wasn't asking.

"Bossy," she teased, but smiled, nodded, and walked out of the office. 

That skirt had nearly gotten me fired.  She knew just how little self-control I had when she wore that skirt.  I knew exactly what she was doing.  Unfortunately, knowing what she was doing didn't seem to change anything.  The entire class period, I remembered what it had been like to bend her over my desk and fuck her raw.  For the entire class period, I reminded myself that she was off limits.  I had toyed with her enough.

_ _ _

Things were more awkward at home than they were in the classroom.  JJ was making an effort to be home more, which I appreciated.  But something was still off.  Kissing JJ felt wrong.  Her lips were too thin, her waist too bony.  Her hair was too straight, and her eyes too blue.  It was wrong to hold it against JJ for not being the woman I wanted.  After all, I should have wanted my wife.  But I didn't.

Every time we tried to kiss, it was clumsy.  Her lips no longer felt like home.  Hers weren't the hands I wanted grasping my biceps.  I hated how loudly she breathed while I was fucking her.  I resented how she didn't hold her breath when she was about to cum.  I tried desperately to push Liv from my mind, but the harder I tried not to think about her, the more frequently she'd pop up.  The only time JJ and I tried to reconnect, I nearly moaned "Olivia."

It wasn't working.  JJ and I fought just as much as we had before, only now I had no outlet to release that frustration.  We had all the same fights we had had months ago; nothing had changed.  There wasn't some magic resolution now that we had both committed to fixing this.  I was starting to think there was no fixing this.  She didn't seem as committed as I was to making sure we would still be together.  At this rate, I wasn't sure we would even make it six more months, but at least I could say I had tried everything to fix our marriage.

I spent two weeks confused why we were still so hostile towards each other; I spent two weeks missing Olivia's body.  It took two weeks to understand why JJ and I would never work this out. 

I had tried to rush out of the house that morning, recognizing I was going to be late to my first lecture.  Leaving lunch behind, I planned to return home later in the afternoon.  But when I did come back, I heard muffled noises from upstairs.  I had thought JJ would be at Quantico, so I went upstairs to check it out only to find a man pounding into my wife.

I stood in the doorway, a disbelieving laugh leaving my mouth inadvertently.  Will whipped around and JJ pulled the covers up to cover herself as if I hadn't also seen her naked body.

"Get. Out." I growled out to Will.

JJ started to protest, "You don't have to-"

"She'll call you later.  Now get the fuck out of my house."  He hurriedly pulled his jeans over his legs and rushed out of the room, his shirt still clutched in his hand.

"I can't believe you!" JJ said, ripping her own shirt over her head.

"ME?!"  I stood before her, my mouth dropped in incredulity.  "I guess those promises we made to each other didn't mean anything after all, did they?"  Without giving her a chance to respond, I walked out of the room and out of the house.

I hurriedly sent an email to my class rosters that afternoon classes were cancelled, and that I was sorry for the short notice.  I needed to see Liv, but I had burned that bridge.  I longed to go home, but JJ and I had burned us to the ground.  I had nothing to go home to.  I'd tried to have it all, and in the process, I'd lost everything.  I had lost JJ to a man whom I could never live up to.  I had lost Liv to my own selfish need to feel anything other than the pain JJ inflicted.  And I had lost myself along the way.

I couldn't fathom how I ended up here.  I no longer recognized who I had become.  But a recurring, familiar feeling crept over me.  I was utterly and completely alone.

_ _ _

Continue to next part

[mcyt-imagines]

TommyInnit Confession HCs

This is a combination of an imagine and some headcanons, this is a new way of writing for me so let me know if you enjoyed this format! 

- Tommy realising he loves the reader and how he’d confess to them - 

Tommy definitely would deny being interested in the reader in the beginning.

It would probably be a natural progression of feelings but tommy just wouldn’t realise it until WAY too late.

Like he just catches himself thinking about them when he’s just doing schoolwork and chores. And then he’s aware of just how much his mind wanders to them. Far too often in his humble opinion.

He lays hints about his crush when talking with Tubbo. He’s real defensive about it though. “You much of a ladies man Tubbo?” Trying to discretely get advice without actually asking for any. And Tubbo being Tubbo means he completely missed all the hints Tommy was dropping. (Not that Tommy’s hints were any good)

His stream for sure notices a change in his behavior, more scatterbrained showing visible signs of stress maybe a little more irritable too. Tubbo definitely notices the changes too and asks him about it. 

Tubbo would probably ask tommy on stream or in private something along the lines of. “What’s up Tommy, you’ve been kinda uh, distracted lately…”

Tommy for suuuuuure blushes and stutters out a response that even Tubbo doesn’t buy. (So instead he talks to Tubbo about it off stream, doesn’t mention his crushes name, but he keeps Tubbo in the loop. Tubbo finds the whole thing very funny because of how defensive Tommy gets in response, however he offers his support to Tommy, obviously. “Even though I have no experience with romance Tommy. I’ll do my best to be the best wingman ever!” With a salute to Tommy on his webcam. Tubbo quickly leaves the call saying he needs to do some ‘research’ (he puts the word in quotation marks with a wink)

Tommy would be a stubborn flustered MESS if stream ever figured out that he was crushing on someone.

And of course they find out because Tubbo slips up and mentions Tommy having a crush.

By that point he is absolutely CONSUMED by his thoughts about the reader as the more he tries to not think about them the more he wishes he was with them.

He also would 10000% be ignoring or avoiding his crush for as long as possible because he knows he wouldn’t be able to utter a single word to their face. His usual ‘big man’ façade would be in absolute shambles if he were around the reader during this time.

There would be a lot of internal and external swearing from Tommy when he finally realises and accepts that he likes you though.

However, this acceptance doesn’t make him any less stressed because now he needs to figure out whether he is even going to tell you!

But he knows he can’t keep living like this as he can’t keep avoiding his crush forever. And he knows the next time he sees you he knows his heart is going to literally burst out of his chest. And he won’t be able to stop himself. So, he devises a plan.

He gets a pep talk from Tubbo in which they help brainstorm his confession plan but he finds himself messaging Wilbur one late night after his stream. “Hey, can I get some advice?” Wilbur is shocked. “Tommyinnit asking ME for advice? Never thought I’d see the day.”

Wilbur teases him for a short while surely. But when Tommy finally puts his pride aside and tells Wilbur about his crush he sobers up quick and dishes out some solid advice and support for Tommy. “In exchange for my services I better be meeting this crush of yours Tommy.” “You got it big man.”

After speaking with Wilbur Tommy feels as if he can finally breathe for the first time in weeks since he first started to realise his feelings for the reader.

CONFESSION DAY!

Tommy sends the reader a text in the mid-morning asking if they wanted to hang out sometime later today. Also apologizing for how ‘busy’ he’s been the last few weeks using schoolwork or chores as his excuse.

He’s furiously texting Tubbo the WHOLE time he’s waiting for a reply from them. Tubbo pulls Tommy onto Minecraft to try and take his mind off the situation. Offline of course, Tommy would not be able to handle streaming right now.

Even Wilbur sends him a few messages to check in, jumping on discord to give his ear for Tommy to chew off. Which he most definitely does.

Eventually his phone dings and Tommy DIVES for it. “THEY SAID YES!” Both Wilbur and Tubbo groan from Tommy’s mic peaking with his screech.

Tommy waits for a few minutes before replying per Tubbo’s request. “I read it online! You don’t want to seem too into them.” He proclaims with false authority as Wilbur chuckles in the background of the call.

The rest of the afternoon blurs for Tommy as he stays on call with Wilbur and Tubbo as they do their best to distract his overactive mind.

However, as the clock ticks on he knows he needs to start getting ready or he’s going to be late.

Wilbur demands that he choose Tommy’s outfit. So for the next half hour Tommy proceeds to perform a free fashion show for the two, only for Phil to join for a short while to give his two cents before going back to his stream.

Eventually Wilbur settles on what he dubbed “-a classic Tommyinnit look-” one of his favourite red shirts paired with one of his nicer black jackets and the dark charcoal pants his mum had made him get a few months ago for a wedding. They are very uncomfortable.

Tommy heaves a sigh as he thanks Wilbur and Tubbo for sticking around with him today. They both send him away, “Good luck Tommy!” “Go get ‘em big man.”

Tommy had agreed to meet the reader at the park, he thought dinner would have been a bit much. Wilbur and Tubbo both agreed on that front. This park was right near the water, so it had a great view of the sunset. He was still pretty chuffed about that fact, his chat was sooo wrong, he could be romantic if he wanted to after all.

Of course, he was a little late. He repeatedly told his mum to speed. She refused of course. His mother of course had noticed exactly what this ‘hang out’ was and had quizzed him about his crush the night prior.

“Don’t leave the car mum.” Tommy was quick to warn her, he did not want her to be anywhere near them. She didn’t need any more dirt on him to embarrass him with. She could end his whole streaming career in an instant if she wanted. A truly terrifying thought.

Tommy was quick to move near the waterfront puffing slightly, nose a tinge pink with the oncoming chilly wind from the lake. “Hey Tommy.” Tommy would freeze instantly before quickly turning with a forced smile, a little too big for his face. “Hey!”

His crush would lead Tommy over to the nearby bench they had been sitting on before he arrived. And they would definitely sit closer to Tommy than he would have wanted.

Tommy would be so obvious. Stuttering over his words, a LOT of frantic hand movements whenever he’s speaking to them.

Mid-conversation his crush starts to laugh. “Tommy I think I’ve figure out why you have been ‘busy’ recently.” Tommy stills immediately, sweat dripping off of him in POOLS. “H-Huh!?” He makes a noise in the back of his throat that he has NEVER made before.

This seems to only make his crush laugh more, they turn fully to him and take one of his clammy hands. He quickly goes to yank it from their grip knowing how sweaty it is. But their grip is strong, and surprisingly calm in contrast to his shaking hands. He gulps simply staring at the spot where their hands are touching. “Tommy.” His gaze snaps up to their smiling face hiding slight worry. “Breathe.” And he finally does. His tense shoulders drop, and their hand leaves his. And suddenly he’s laughing harder than he ever has before realizing how ridiculous he’s being right now. And when he looks over, so is his crush.

The conversation from that point on flows naturally as the two finally begin to catch up after not seeing each other for a few weeks.

Tommy finally realises how comfortable they make him feel. He simply stares at them as they speak. Awed that it took him this damn long to figure out he liked them.

His crush stops talking, noticing him staring. He jumps out of his thoughts, “Hey Tommy, take a picture it’ll last longer.” And suddenly he’s sweating all over again as they laugh.

His crush is having the time of their life watching ‘big man’ Tommy squirm beside them. Trying his best to scrounge up the courage to say something, anything to them.

They open their mouth to speak when suddenly Tommy yells, “I LIKE YOU!”

Tommy isn’t even looking at them, he has his eyes squeezed shut and he thrusts his arm outwards holding something which promptly shoves into his crush’s chest. Effectively winding them.

They wheeze in response, “Me too. Don’t know why though goD!” They push out through gasps of air, pressing a hand to their chest. Pain beginning to subside as Tommy realises he literally just punched his crush.

His jaw drops and his silence continues as they take what was in his hands. A small book.

A scrapbook.

His crush’s face softens as they flip through the photos, memories flooding back to them of days long gone by.

Tommy stayed up all night yesterday just to finish the final details on the scrapbook, it isn’t the most aesthetically pleasing thing. (Even he knows that) But he put his heart and soul into it.

“Very sweet of you Tommy. But I didn’t bring anything for you…” They end up mumbling in response. Tommy only grins. “So you like it?” They scoff and finally pull Tommy in for a hug. He stills for a moment, then melts into their hold.

Tommy mumbles his apology for literally punching them into his crush’s hair. They giggle into his chest in response, letting him know that it’s fine, they’re okay. Tommy mumbles something incoherent into their hair and presses a cautionary kiss to the top of their head.

“AWWWWW!” A loud noise comes from behind their bench. Tommy and his crush dive apart only to see Tommy’s mum hidden behind a nearby tree.

“MUUUUUUUUUM!” Tommy screeches as his crush cackles out a laugh.

Tommy’s mum ends up driving his crush home as well, they sit in the back seat of the car holding hands.

“This didn’t go at all how I’d planned…” Tommy complains with a deep pout. “Oh really? Your plan didn’t involve punching me? Huh?” Their crush sniggers at him.

“Oh! His real plan-“ His mother starts and in order to cut her off Tommy just starts yelling at the top of his lungs “Nononono!!”. Causing his crush to burst into laughter as the two try to increase their volumes to drown out the other.

His crush shakes their head with a grin and wonders what the hell they’ve just gotten themselves into.

[fluffi]

MY DETENTION BUDDY :: JAY

pairing: jay x gn!reader genre: fluff, badboy!jay, highschool!au, friends-enemies-lovers!au word count: 2k event: for @lovesick-net​​ and (early) jay day 200421 <3 author’s note: simple little one-shot for jay’s birthday (i wont be uploading anything for his actual birthday). i had to speedrun this fic because i kept changing the plot and this hasnt been proofread twice (unlike my other fics) T-T i hope it’ll still work out. warnings: (reader makes one bad decision)

Ring...ring...ring...ring..ring…

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring

Ringringringringiringringringring.

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRRI-SLAM!

The alarm clock stopped its boisterous wailing

10 more minutes. I don’t have to style my hair today.

Thirty minutes passed.

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI- SLAM!

Ugh. I’ll just miss assembly.

RIRIRIIRRIRIRI-

This time, the ringing stopped before he could slam his hand over the alarm clock.

“Jongseong, do you not have school today?” Jay could only make out a bush of black that stood above him as he sat up, dazed and drowsy.

“Yeah, I do. I’m about to get ready. Why?”

“It’s 9 am! You should be at school! At this point, you don’t even have to go anymore.” His mother huffed in disappointment.

It was an exaggeration, but she had a point. School started at eight in the morning. It was already an hour later but he was still sitting in bed.

“I’ll get ready now. 10 minutes. Good to go.” He shooed his mom away, already running to the bathroom to wash up.

“I’m leaving now Jay. You know darn well that I have an important meeting today and I can’t miss it just for you to not get a tardy. Heck, you’re already late! You’re-”

“Mom! I can’t walk to school! It takes too long.” Jay whined as he brushed his teeth, his muffled voice interrupting his mother’s speech.

“Young man, stop interrupting me. I told you a week ago about today’s event and it’s not my fault that my oldest son can’t take care of himself. You’re going to have to take another mode of transport, you’re old enough to deal with this yourself!” With that, his mother stormed out of his room, her feet obnoxiously thumping on the floor.

“I’m also your only son...” Jay muttered. 

Of all days, why did she have to have her meeting today? Monthly evaluations aren’t that important. Dangit, I should’ve been taught how to drive. Jay returned to his rapid multitasking, grabbing his school uniform while washing his face. He didn’t even look twice,

After taking the quickest shower he had ever taken in his entire life and shoving all of his essential (what he determined as essential, at least) belongings into his bag, he opened to door and dashed outside only to be met with…

Rain.

Rain everywhere. Drenching the front yard’s perfectly tended flower garden and creating heaps of watery mud. It was pouring at 9.15 am. There was thunder and occasional flashes of light zooming through the clouds. The city was in shambles.

Not like, shamble, shambles. It was shambles in Jay’s opinion as he groaned and stomped his way through the rain.

Screw school. Screw this stupid rain, screw my alarm clock, screw this-

“Dude, why are you running in the rain? You’re soaked. Are you heading to school?” A pink-haired boy in a red Ferrari shouted from across the street.

Jay sighed in relief, immediately running across the road to said Ferrari. “Choi Yeonjun. You are a life-saver. Could I get a ride real quick? I’ll pay back for engine fees and for soaking the inside of your Ferrari with rainwater.”

“Hop right in, and don’t worry about returning. Let’s have some fun with this baby.” Yeonjun smirked and revved the engine, swerving past cars and buildings like it was a little RPG game.

At this rate, I’ll make it to school in no time.

“Dude, I’m so sorry. I guess you have to walk.”

Just as he thought things were taking a better turn, Yeonjun decides to show off his new driving skills and zooms through roads at a rapid speed, so fast that he crashed the car by a tree. It was a miracle that both of them didn’t get hurt but as far as Jay was concerned, he could worry about that some other time. This was just slowing him down on his long and tedious journey towards his form of hell.

On the bright side, the rain had stopped and the sunshine was back as if nothing had happened.

“I’ll get going to school.” Jay internally groaned and started sprinting in the direction of his school.

“Hey, at least I helped you get closer to school! Didn’t I?” Yeonjun shouted from behind and coyly smiled.

Such a boastful punk, Jay thought. “Whatever, bro!” He turned back and gave his older friend a quick wave before dashing off.

“Park Jongseong! You’re late...again.”

“I’m aware.” Jay didn’t spare his English teacher an eye and slung his backpack over the chair, about to take a seat.

“Stop giving me attitude, I’m your teacher.Why are you tardy for the fourth time this month?”

“Alarm clock.”

“Alarm clock what? Are you afraid to speak up? I don’t see you acting like this in the hallways.”

Jay looked down at his feet and sighed before side-eyeing his teacher. “Overslept, okay? Sir if you could just let me off the hook you would be able to proceed with your Shakespeare nonsense.”

The entire class snickered. It was no secret that Jay loathed Mr. Jung, the English teacher. Who didn’t? Mr. Jung treated every student in school like they were incapable toddlers and it was a wonder that anyone would dare to stand up to his stupid remarks. Jay’s carefree attitude towards his horrible teachers was one of the reasons why he earned so many fangirls.

Not like you were one, of course. You watched as he pulled his chair out and sat next to you out of the three other vacant seats at the back of the class.

Mr. Jung rolled his eyes and continued writing on the blackboard. “Also, Jongseong,” he added, “you’re wearing your school shirt the wrong way round. See you in detention for your tardiness.”

A few of the girls in a few seats in front of him whispered rapidly, although whispering didn’t stop Jay from finding out about their gossip.

“Lol! So much for being the bad boy of our grade. He looks like a wreck today.”

“I know right? I wonder what the other fangirls will think of this. Should we send the pictures to the fan club?”

The second girl giggled. “Yeah, duh. Name it jay-park-wreck-images.”

So much for my reputation. Jay could only roll his eyes as he pulled out his supplies, ignoring the camera clicks coming from the seats in front of him.

“Oh, yay. At least I’ll have a detention buddy now.”

Jay eyed you up and down like your statement was some sort of monstrosity. “Detention? You, detention? Pfft.” He laughed.

“Yeah, Jay. Me, detention. Why are you so happy about it? Glad to be stuck with another girl?”

“What, no-no. You just...don’t seem like the type to be in detention. How’d you get it?”

“This..may be kind of embarrassing, but...” You turned to the side and Jay gasped.

On the sleeve of your uniform was a...rabbit? It wasn’t too obvious as to what the marker doodle was but it was apparent that you had intentionally spent time to draw on it.

“Look, I was bored in assembly this morning and found a spare marker in my pocket! Don’t judge, we all know how bad assembly can be.” You blurted just as Jay was about to ask why you had done what you did.

“You could’ve just drawn on your hand or done something else with the marker.” Jay sighed and shook his head at your dumb decision.

“I was out of my mind, okay? Ugh, Assembly always drives me nuts. I got called out for for the horrendous ink bleed when Mr. Jung saw as I walked into the classroom. He said it ‘didn’t follow school guidelines’.”

“For once, I agree with Mr. Jung. It was a stupid choice, you know? If you didn’t draw on your uniform then you wouldn’t have to go to detention now.”

“Jay Park, the bad boy of school, is telling me to be a rule abider. Biggest twist of the century.” You rolled your eyes.

Jay frowned and turned back at you, losing that little spark in his eyes that he once kept. “I’m not a bad boy you know? I just don’t like the system in place here.”

“As if anyone is going to believe that. Go hang out with another girl of yours. I’m not here to be your toy.”

“People like you are the reason why everyone thinks I’m a bad person. I thought you were different, you know?”

You had been preoccupied with taking notes for class, but now you looked at him with squinted eyes. “Well, I am different. Different as In someone who doesn’t fall for your useless charms. Go suck up to your fangirls or something.”

Jay rolled his eyes and scooted away from you. He thought he had been lucky to meet you, but he guessed not.

You always do this, you idiot. You were so close to making a new friend.

You put your hands in your head and side-eyed Jay, who seemed to be struggling as Mr. Jung blurted out an entire unit’s summary.

The boy hadn’t brought any stationery and was definitely on the wrong page of the textbook. You figured that he was this disheveled from his absolute lack of planning but you still felt bad.

His hair was a mess, it was still damp from the rain before. If only you could help him style it…

Why do I want to touch his hair? That’s weird and gross.

You were so occupied with thinking about Jay that you realized that he was still struggling in class.

Maybe you could make things better.

“I’m sorry.”

Jay was struggling to find the page you guys were on for class when a pencil blocked his view.

“What do you want?” He said as he tried to look past your pencil swinging.

“It’s a pencil for you since I realized that your table is practically empty and you’re going to need something to take notes with for later. Also, it’s page 153, not 53.” You leaned over to help him flip the pages.

“Oh, that makes so much more sense. I was wondering why we were relearning unit 3 when finals aren’t even near yet.”

You raised your eyebrows, looking up at a relieved Jay. “So you do pay attention in class.”

“Of course I do! I’m a student. You should stop using that stereotype on me.” Jay frowned and a tinge of disappointment shadowed his face.

“Right, I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying to work on it, it’s rumors and assumptions that have built up over the past few years and I understand that it shouldn’t get in the way of our friendship.”

“Friendship? We have a friendship?” Jay chuckled and cocked an eyebrow up, teasing you.

Maybe it was that eyebrow slit or the weird tension that was building up between the both of you. You felt your face heat up. “I mean- yeah, friendship. Are we not friends?”

“I don’t know, hun. I thought we were something more.”

“Um...best...friends?”

It was perfect timing as the bell rang and you immediately started packing things into your bag, eyes glued to the clock instead of the amused boy next to you.

Jay laughed, running his hands through his blonde locks and watching as you started running out of class, your eyes occasionally looking back at him to see if he was still staring at you.

“See you in detention!” He called, drawing the attention of your classmates.

Jay Park needs to learn how to shut his mouth. Everyone was now staring at you and you were flustered, embarrassed, shocked, and confused. The weird mix of emotions were driving you nuts. All you could muster was a little nod and you dashed out of there as fast as you could.

“Today we’re going to learn about Murphy’s Law. It is where anything that can go wrong will go wrong.”

“But everything that can work, will work.” Jay raised his hand and added, sparing a glance at you jotting notes in the back of the classroom, oblivious to his reference towards you.

“You’re right Jay. Murphy’s Law works both ways. Reversing it is considered part of science…”

Today morning was a storm (figuratively and literally) and everything seemed to be going wrong for Jay. Murphy’s Law prevails. but there’s always a rainbow after the storm. You were his rainbow and his lucky charm.

2021 © fluffi

[kurinoot]

agape

-> agape (Ancient Greek ἀγάπη, agapē) is a Greco-Christian term referring to unconditional love, "the highest form of love, charity" and "the love of God for man and of man for God". 

pairing: akaashi x gn!reader

themes: fluff with some angst at the beginning, akaashi just taking care of you, bipolar!reader (that’s why please read this fic with discretion), post-timeskip

word count: 1,310 words

trigger warning/s: mentions of mental health-related issues! if you want to talk about it or just want someone to vent out, you can slide into my dms! also, warning for language!

notes: so hello! this is my contribution for the mental health collab, and I chose akaashi! I hope that you have read this top portion before reading the fic just to give you a heads up! anyways, this is to raise awareness on mental health in general (and on bipolar disorder) and to help others who don’t have mental health issues and of course, destigmatize them! a HUGE appreciation to @rosesandtoshi, @nerdynstoned, @vanille--kiss, @meiansmistress, and to my love @ssrated1volleyballplayer 💕 for proofreading this and fact-checking it for me! I really appreciate it considering the subject of this fic :)

chant: all of me - john legend (lindsey stirling violin remix)

“This sucks,” you softly whine in frustration as you fold your arms and lay down your head on the table. Your boyfriend can only look at you in worry as he tenderly caresses your hair, humming a soft lullaby that he knows can help you ease down from your episodes at times.

You huff in frustration at literally everything—the intense shifts in mood swings, medications, therapy sessions, the pitying or judging looks, and the stigma—as tears well up and threaten to spill from the growing swell on your eyes. You just want to live a normal life—a life without unpredictable mood swings, daily medications, and therapy appointments.

And a life where you don’t have to feel every inch of ogling eyes staring right at you.

A life just like everybody else.

And yet here you are.

You never fail to feel envious of almost everybody else. At least they don’t need to take medications every single fucking day just to keep their mood in check. They also don’t need to attend psychotherapy sessions because of something that would stay with them for life. And they don’t have to suffer the stares of other people just because they’re having a fucking meltdown.

“Shh,” he hushes softly. “It’s okay, I’m here if you need me, my love.” Keiji coos with tenderness.

The last week at work has left you in shambles, as an unpredictable depressive episode made its wave to disrupt your routine once again. You were grateful that your boss understood your situation and gave you a time off work, but it has still left you grating with so many thoughts drilling its way into your head. It didn’t help that you were still in a depressive episode today, and it definitely didn’t help that you want to cry at your boyfriend's comforting words and overwhelming support. You can only muffle your cries at the fact that you are so goddamn lucky to have a doting boyfriend like Keiji.

‘What the fuck did I ever do to deserve Keiji? I really don’t deserve him. Not like this,’ your mind slews, overwhelmed with all the negativity you’re feeling. Ever since finding out about the state of your psyche, he’s been nothing short of a very patient and compassionate boyfriend, and once again he proves to you how much he loves you even in your current state.

“It’s okay, my love. Cry your heart out if you have to, my love. I’m here.” You hear his calm voice as he wraps you in a cozy hug beside you, accompanied with a light but meaningful kiss on your temple as you bask together in the silence in solace. After a few minutes, Akaashi goes to check on you only for him to hear the wisps of your soft snores. Only then does he proceed to carry you with all his might and carefully place you on the bed, covering you with your favorite bamboo-scented white comforter that never fails to calm you down in your sleep.

As soon as he’s assured that you’re resting soundly, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, hastily unlocking it. He’s greeted with a photo of you on his screen and he lets out a smile, saying a ‘That’s my girl’ in his head as he opens his browser and types ‘bipolar disorder’ on the search bar.

“So that’s what it is...” Akaashi mumbles in understanding as he scrolls through various credible sources about your condition, wanting to keep himself educated to learn more about you and how to take good care of you. From what he can understand, you experience mood extremes - manic and depressive episodes which can tick off of you at random and unexpected times. It is something incurable, he reads, but taking prescriptions as well as psychotherapy can help reduce its effects.

‘So that’s why Y/N takes her prescriptions everyday...’ he realizes as he clearly recalls the day he found your prescription medications in one of the cupboards.

He searches more about it, adding more and more tabs on his browser when he glances at the clock, only to be greeted with the flashing LED that says 2:58 AM. With a huff, he closes his phone, settling it on the nightstand before he uncovers the sheets and plops down beside you, ensnaring you in a warm embrace as he dozes off into unconsciousness.

A couple of hours later, Akaashi wakes up to the sound of his alarm. He rubs both of his eyes, yawning before his hand goes to turn off the blaring sound to make sure that you don’t wake up. He gives you one last hug, then kisses your temple, cheek, and shoulder before unwrapping himself from the warmth of the sheets you share together.

‘I still have time.’ Akaashi huffs in mind, glancing at the clock that glared right at him at 6:32 AM. He rushes over to the bathroom to clean himself up before he goes to the kitchen to prepare something for you.

The mixed scent of the bamboo from the comforter and the scent of what seemed to be tamagoyaki—your favorite egg omelette rolls—wakes you up and you jolt awake to see the empty space next to you. You frown only to realize that Keiji must be preparing breakfast as your stomach grumbles from hunger. Not for long, Keiji graces your dazed vision as he carries a bed tray with a steaming plate of your favorite egg omelette roll, a bowl of miso soup, and a freshly brewed cup of tea on the side. The icing on the cake, much to your shock, is the bottle of prescription medication placed neatly near the cup of tea with an attached note that said “Don’t forget!”

“Good morning, Y/N. I hope you’re feeling good,” he greets you calmly with a gentle beam, leaving a peck on your forehead.

“Keiji~” you huff out with a slight pout as he places the bed tray on your lap. “You didn’t have to do this for me.”

Akaashi rubs your hands with his, looking into your eyes with love before he takes one of your hands and places a tender kiss on it. “You had a rough week and must be exhausted, so let me do this for you. I’m here for you, okay?”

Your eyes widen at his words and his gestures as your eyes unconsciously become wet with tears. ‘Why is Keiji so good to me? I don’t deserve this I can’t—’

Akaashi must have sensed it, because he wraps you in a comforting hug. Your heart feels like it is going to burst as you hug him in return, crying with full force. It doesn’t help that he is caressing your hair gently with one hand while he rubs your back with the other.

“Shhh. I’m here, my love. Tell me how you are feeling.”

He patiently waits for you as you swallow all the incoming tears and the growing lump in your throat before a smile graces your lips. “I-I just, I don’t know. I feel so loved right now.”

Akaashi smiles, giving himself a pat on the back internally as he hugs you a little bit tighter. You both bask in each other’s warmth and comfort.

“Now come on, let’s eat. The food will get cold. I’ll grab my own food so we can eat breakfast together. The next time you have a therapy appointment, if you’re comfortable, I would like to accompany you. That way, I can understand you better and do my best to accommodate your needs. Only if that is something you’re alright with though.”

The fact that he was so willing to try and see things from your perspective meant everything to you. All that you could do in that moment was cry a little bit harder as he holds you.

remember to keep yourself educated, sisters! destigmatizing mental health is more important than ever! and being sensitive and caring to those who deal with those problems is what those people need :)

back to the mental health collab masterlist (yet to be posted)

[whosscruffylooking]

Instinct Chapter 3-Act Natural (Spencer Reid x Female Reader)

Warnings: Brief confrontation between a male and female. Mentions of a break-in. 

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: I’m sorry it took me so long to get this out. In other news...I reached 100 followers! A small but deeply appreciated feat. I am celebrating this milestone over the weekend. Check out my pinned post on what I am doing to say thank you to everyone who has enjoyed my writing. 

"Act natural," the bony brainiac mutters to me.

"Given the current circumstances, I think that the most natural response here is to panic...thus I am acting natural," I retort.

"No, they are like predators. They will sense your fear. Act like this is any normal day for you."

"Well, to tell you quite honestly, my days as of recent have been filled with panic, so this is a typical day for me."

"Look, I'm the professional here. So, if you would listen to what I say and do as I tell you!"

"Is Dr. Reid raising his voice?"

"First thing you need to do is stop talking and let me think," he stresses as he rolls his sleeves up.

Enthralled by his sudden burst of authority, I express, "You intrigue me, Dr. Reid." 

-----*Three Hours Earlier*-----

The subtle ticking of the clock gradually crescendos into powerful drumming that reverberates throughout the room. The doorknob rattles and my eyes dart to the entrance as Agent Prentiss steps in, "We have some photos we'd like you to come to look at." Hesitantly, I step around the table and follow behind her into the main office. The men and women of the precinct watch as I wander over to the whiteboard that Dr. Reid is standing in front of.

Littering the board is photos of my brother. As I slowly move to get a closer look, my breathing hitches, my hands instinctually cover my mouth in shock and disbelief. "Y/N, can you confirm that this is your brother?" Spencer approaches me cautiously. I can't seem to bring myself to speak. I nod. "Is there anything you can tell me about these particular photos or dates," he asks, brushing his fingers over specific pictures and scribbles of numbers on the whiteboard.

A realization strikes me as I examine the images more closely, "No. But I do recognize the people in the background." "You do? Can you identify them?" Agent Prentiss advances towards me. I point towards one of the grim figures lurking in the background of my brother's photo, "That's the man who was in my apartment."

"You said you didn't know who your attacker was," Emily says, obviously not trusting my statement.

"I'd know those eyes anywhere."

"HOTCH!" Spencer shouts.

About an hour later, the team is on a call with their technical analyst. The local chief investigator is interrogating me. "Come on, Y/N, don't play stupid with me. You and Jeremy were inseparable. You cannot possibly believe that I would fall for this innocent little act of yours. You are harboring information on a notorious gang in this city!"

"Oh please, Castillo, you've been a cop for as long as I've been alive. The Nomad Boys have been around for just as long. Not once have you put this much effort into catching them. Is this because the big guns are here? You want to seem all tough and in control for them, but once they're gone, you and I both know you will go right back to hiding in your little office, ignoring the concerns of the people of this city," I oppose.

Castillo vehemently lunges forward, "You think that I am the only one putting up some farce, while you pretend to be the naive little sister here whose older brother can do no wrong. I don't buy it for one instant. You may have that little boy band member wannabe wrapped around your finger, but don't believe for one iota of a second that you can dive under my radar. This entire town knows that you are third-generation scum, and I can promise you that this kind of pattern will stop with my reign. Do I make myself clear? Or do I need to repeat myself for emphasis?"

"No need. I ignored you just fine the first time," I swipe at the detective.

He surveys my body language. I cross my arms, perhaps in the way of shielding myself from intimidation or in a manner of faining his lack of influence on me. Castillo opens his mouth to speak, and in a perfect streak of luck, Spencer comes over to save the day.

Nearing us, he speaks, "Y/N, we want to go to your apartment and see if we can't determine what the man in the picture was after. I'd like for you to come with us and give us some insight into whatever we find."

I agree to go and follow him and Agent Morgan to the car.

(Spencer's POV)

Quietness permeates the entire car ride to the apartment. Morgan continuously eyeballs me, and finally, my nerves get the best of me, "Would you stop that!?" Derek wryly grins and then glances into the rearview mirror to look at the Y/N in the back, "You know, kid, growing up, I ran with the wrong crowd by association too."  

She scans her eyes over the both of us, and her stare lands on me. Once again, her pleading eyes permeate my thoughts, clouding my reasoning. There is no place for her among the faction that we are investigating. If she is involved with them, it's against her better judgment...or even her will.

"By association?" Her nostrils flare, "My brother and I didn't--wouldn't run with the Nomad Gangs. Our father was ki-" Her voice tapers off as she pulls at the fraying cuffs of her jeans.

That can't be right. I've scoured her family's files, and the only information divulged about her father's death is that he was killed in a car accident in 2000.

"A member of the Nomad Boys killed your father, didn't he?" Morgan questions.

Looking back at her, I watch her slump against the seat and her eyes dull. The silence infiltrates the air once again. As the car arrives outside of her apartment, I internally thank the heavens for a break from the awkwardness. Motioning to my counterparts, we gather outside of the vehicle and trek into the residence building.

"I've lived here for five years now. I moved shortly after my brother died. My parents had an apartment in this building when they were newlyweds. The stories they shared with me about this place stuck with me, so when I was finally out on my own, this was the place I gravitated towards," the young woman says timidly, pulling the cuffs of her sleeves over her fists.

As we near the door to her apartment, she picks at her cuticles apprehensively. Her eyes concentrate keenly on Derek's movements as he inserts the key into the lock. The door creaks open, and we are met with a home left in shambles.

"Reid," Morgan turns around, "we did not leave this place looking like this."  

Stiffening up at the unsettling sight, I say, "They left the first time empty-handed. But, Y/N wasn't the only target. So, they came back to salvage what they could acquire. The question is, what was it?"

"And did they find it," Morgan adds.

Worried, I look back to see Y/N wide-eyed and trembling. I hurry to her side and brush my hands over her shoulders, "This is unsettling, I know. Take a moment if you need to, but we will require you to look over everything here and see if anything is missing or seems out of place. See if you can piece together what it is they were looking for."  

Raking her hands through her hair, she starts scouring every last inch of her apartment, picking up papers, knick-knacks, tearing apart whatever is left to ravage.

"We got a problem," Derek announces, peeking his head out of the front doorway, "Two unknowns headed right this way. Reid, can you identify them?"

I station myself next to him, cautiously leaning into the hallway, and I catch sight of them.

"She needs more time," I grab his arm. He nods, "I'll try and buy you some time."

Stumbling back into the home, I hurry over to the driven girl. "Two of the men seen following your brother are headed this way. I need you to keep looking just...faster. Once we run out of time, we need to get out of here without them recognizing you. Do you have some sort of hat or glasses you could wear out?"

She stiffens up as if frozen in place.

Nice going Spence, you've terrified her.

Attempting to remedy the situation, I do the one thing I can always fall back on, I rambling.

"Y-you knows, the fear response takes place in a section of the brain known as the amygdala, located in the temporal lobe or...in--in other words, the supercomputer part of your brain. It causes us to revert to the primitive senses of our minds. We often call this the fight or flight response. It manifests itself in a shortage of self-control and rash decision-making."

(Reader's POV)

I draw in a long breath, listening intently to his tsunami of words. At last, he stops to compose himself.

This man would kill on Broadway.

"So what you're saying is?" I probe.

"Act natural," the bony brainiac mutters to me.

"Given the current circumstances, I think that the most natural response here is to panic...thus I am acting natural," I retort.

"No, they are like predators. They will sense your fear. Act like this is any normal day for you."

"Well, to tell you quite honestly, my days as of recent have been filled with panic, so this is a typical day for me."

"Look, I'm the professional here. So, if you would listen to what I say and do as I tell you!"

"Is Dr. Reid raising his voice?"

"First thing you need to do is stop talking and let me think," he stresses as he rolls his sleeves up.

Enthralled by his sudden burst of authority, I express, "You intrigue me, Dr. Reid." He stills momentarily as if he's translating my statement from some foreign language.

Motioning to my closet, I suggest, "Take a look in there and see if you find anything that could work."

______________________________________

Tag list:

@chellybear98 @destiny-tsukino @wanniiieeee @sweetiecake180  @vampiracontessa @weexinling @spaghetti-dad187 @hothskies @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @mac99martin @mcntsee @ssagube @yougottalovefandoms @halloweenwithreid @pancake2603 @theoldestguard @chazubagi​ @frogrrylovebot @weasleytwinsimpp @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @kenzies-mr-j

[dreamii-yume]

hello! can I request a spicy dream of jamil and leona finding out that their s/o trying to escape with the help of a random student (not twst main characters) they are friends with?

Warning!!!

Even though Yume proof-read this Sinfic like crazy, I’m sure there’s still a lot of misspelling and wrong grammars that I overlooked! I usually use MS Word to check some wrong things in my Fics but since my Laptop died out haa~ (*´Д｀*) Yume gotta improvise now.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Since Jamil’s birthday just pass like SO long ago,  I hope you don’t mind that I chose to do only him in this request~! Sorry Darlings! But we gotta simp for him for another time!

I TRIED to finish this Sinfic before Jamil’s birthday but aahh…Online class held my ass back (´Д` ) Jamil, I’m sorry it’s late, I love(?) you but I only ask for one thing and that’s to not make Kalim cry anymore, ya hear me!? .°(ಗдಗ。)°. 

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Locked and confined by a dangerously in love Jamil, Darling has to really use her creativity to escape! Fortunately or unfortunately, there was finally someone willing to help her out! But I wonder if it’s really that simple~?

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Pulling you closer, you did your best to clasp your lips against his in hopes to bring him a satisfying experience. Your mind felt hazy and your mouth quavered as your tongues interacted with each other. The only thing that was on your mind right now was to just focus on this kiss, ignoring the dread and spark of uncomfortableness crawling up your skin.

“Mm...You’ve gotten better.” This man, Jamil finally let go, dragging his tongue across yours for an unnecessary moment. With a red, embarrassed face, you felt as if you’ve shrunk down as your lips trembled slightly. Jamil looked down at your kneeling figure on the bed with a smirk, the golden shackles tightly secured around your ankles suited you abnormally well. “I guess that’s just expected from you. Good job.”

Of course you did good, you knew damn well how much he was going to hurt you if you didn’t. 

As much as you preferred to say such response, you chose to stay quiet instead and looked down. His hand stroked your hair, petting you like some kind of an obidient dog he trained. Well, in your current situation, that metaphor doesn’t really feel that far off actually. You jokingly but morbidly thought that it’s just a matter of time before he decides to put a collar on you and calls you pet names rather than your own given name. You shivered at the thought, you wish it could just remain a dark joke but something tells you it’s a sign from the future. 

“...Do you know what day it is tomorrow?” You looked up at him with tired eyes, dark circles were already forming around. Still, you tilted your head, trying to jog your memory for what he could be talking about. It was tough, you don’t even know the exact date of what today is. “It’s kind of a special day for me, just so you know.”

You blinked as Jamil smiled at you, his hand slowly moving from your head to caress your cheek. You gulped nervously as he looked down at you, he was challenging you to guess what he was talking about. “...Huh...” You let out a single sound of confusion, blinking repeatedly. “Wha...?”

However, with that kind of response, Jamil’s smile turned upside down in disappointment. You flinched as the hand on your cheek tightened and began glaring at you, enough to cause a spark of panic to run down your spine. With your disoriented self, you internally searched all the remaining files located in your brain, which was not very much to begin with and yet, you can’t quite figure out what this special day seems to imply. Your heart beats faster as Jamil’s expression darken the more you stay quiet, you’ve spent enough time with this guy to know how much of a bad news that is.

“...B-Birthday...!” You blurted out in pure instinct. You weren’t sure of it, it was a guess that you only formulated based on the time that you knew before getting confined in this room. You knew it’s risky to leave something like this to luck, but right now, you have no other choice but to believe in yourself. “I-It’s...It’s your birthday, r-right…?”

Jamil stared at you for a while, his eyes staring deeply within your soul, something that made you break in cold sweat. You were prepared to whatever hell this guy will bring you once he confirmed your answer was wrong, but it still doesn’t change the fact that it still scares you. However, Jamil eventually gave you a smile and grabbed your chin to bring you closer to him. “Correct~” He whispered and never in your life had you felt this thankful for your luck. “…And do you know what will happen during that day?”

Just when you thought that your game of Verbal Russian Roulette was cleared, another question pops out from his mouth. This time, the answer could be anything, what will happen during his birthday? Obviously, Kalim will never pass off the opportunity to throw a feast that can feed an entire kingdom just to celebrate his best friend’s birthday. That was the obvious answer, but Jamil has a different look in his eyes that awakens the overwhelming doubt in you. You don’t know the answer, why was he making you guess in the first place, it’s his birthday, isn’t it?

With a nervous gulp, your face paled and looked down before shaking your head slightly. “…N-No, I don’t…” You admitted, voice suddenly felt weak, despite feeling really strong in your head. 

To your surprise, Jamil just chuckled and you felt his hand tuck a strand of hair behind your ears, slightly fixing your appearance. “That’s fine, it’s not like you would know it in the first place. I was just teasing you.” He said with a smirk and you couldn’t help but to glare at him slightly. He sounded like he was being playful by those words but you knew this guy was deriving off sick pleasure by seeing your panicked form. 

Jamil then grabbed you by the chin, pulling you close to him just enough to land a gentle kiss on your cheek. It still made you squirm in discomfort but gestures like these were still better than those times where he’s feeling aggressive. He then leaned into your ear, his voice has the natural ability to make you shiver from head to toe. “Tomorrow...is the one day that I would be considered as the number one priority.” He said, you could feel his hand stroking your thighs and it was making the little hairs stand on its end. “It’s a special day where everyone would be heeding all my needs.”

“...And that includes you.” You didn’t know what he was trying to get out of this. You so desperately wanted to bitterly state to him how the day didn’t need to be his birthday for you to obey him. He already had you following every of his beck and call, forcefully so. “That’s why, tomorrow...”

“I want to make you mine. Let’s become one, (Y/N).” Jamil finished, you couldn’t see him from your current angle but you could practically feel his lips twisting into a smirk. “A special event for a special day. Don’t you think that’s wonderful?”

You didn’t respond, even if your heart felt like it stopped beating for a while as you could feel yourself paling instantly. You kept your emotions calm, probably because you were at a loss of how to react, but a single strand of sweat drips down your forehead. It was enough to scream just how much distress and panic you were feeling inside your mind. 

You didn’t know if Jamil detected it or not, but regardless, he chuckled once again. He pulled away from you, his fingers brushing against your face for another uncomfortable second. “I have to do something now.” He said as he stood up from the bed, leaving you to stare back at him with a gulp. “You don’t have to think of anything else, I’ll take care of you so, stay in this room as always.”

“I’ll come back soon, my Little Diamond.”

With a final chilling smile, Jamil waved at you slightly before fully exiting the room, leaving you to think in your accordance. Your eyes lingered at the structure of the door for an unnecessary amount of time, your head in shambles. Then, a minute passed by, the ticking of the clock was becoming louder and louder until it was downright deafening. Your mouth that was left ajar in shock began quavering and without any particular reason of why, your hand clutched your chest, wrinkling your sleeping dress. You began to breath heavily, you tried to control the panic but your heart rate was sky-rocketing that it feels like you’re going to get suffocated, your mind slowly getting light-headed.

Jamil just dropped the weight of reality on your already fragile self that it was difficult to keep the tears from pouring out of your eyes. He said something so concerning and walked away like you’re just going to accept something like that. It almost feel like he’s just pulling a prank on you, to see you panic like this because he knew how terrified you would be once a situation like that had befallen on you. It would’ve been fine if it was a joke, you wouldn’t even get mad and even praise him for sounding so convincing, but the man you’re facing here is someone named Jamil Viper. This man who had forcefully hid you from the world for who knows how long now, the man who had made you do things that you weren’t willing to do, the man who didn’t hesitate to bruise and scar you if you go so much as to talk back against him.

You knew more than anyone else that this man was not one to pull such a joke like this.

You scooted back towards the headboard of the bed, your body was trembling so badly that the thick, fluffy blankets you desperately wrapped around you was doing nothing. The air conditioning in your room wasn’t even blowing that strong, the temperature has nothing to do with how much you were shaking. Yet, you buried yourself in the blanket, hoping to just shrunk down in a molecular level and disappear. You were scared, what else were you supposed to feel? The thought of being forever bounded with someone like Jamil is just…Frightening.

It’s not like you were a stranger to his touch either, his hands had already travelled around your body and reached places that your mother told you as a child to never let anyone touch. It started out with suffocating hugs and forceful kisses, you could still feel how tight he gripped your jaw at that time. His hands came next, you felt them caressing every little part of you, from your thighs to your stomach then, to your breasts. You remember how you couldn’t stop crying that night, unfamiliar of a man’s touch as Jamil’s whispers haunts your ears. The feeling of his hand kneading your breast and the other stimulating the wetness of the flower between your legs, it all filled you with shame up to this day.

Your virginity was the only thing that he never dares to steal just yet and for a moment, you thought that he may just be the romantic type to wait until marriage, but this night, you were stand corrected. It feels like you’re going to break down with just his little inappropriate touches that leads to momentary orgasms, how much more would it damage you when he finally stuck his seed inside you? The thought made your heart drop for a second and you quickly clasped your hands in front of your mouth. You could’ve swore bile had piled itself in your throat right there but thankfully, nothing came up.

You moved your legs slightly, closing them in anxiety but flinched at the sound of the chains clanging together. You pulled the blanket off your ankle, staring at the golden shackles decorated with dazzling rubies, it was beautiful but you wished Jamil placed that beauty in some other accessories out there. It was pleasing to look at but you hated these shackles, you can’t get used to the sound of it at all. It was like it was mocking you about how utterly hopeless your situation is, that you could never ever escape from such a life. In which, in a sense, makes you even more depressed on how true it sounds like.

Don’t get yourself wrong here, you really did tried your best to escape this hell of a room you’re in. There was a window giving you a fair share of sunlight but it was on the opposite side of the room and these shackles were stuck to the wall and could only go so far until the bathroom. There’s also the possibility that the room you’re in might be on the highest part of this place, you just can’t see Jamil making the mistake of putting you in a low place if he so badly wanted to keep you in here. You would want to try other various things to get off your binds but the moment Jamil sees a single trace of you trying to damage these chains is another opportunity for him to mess up a part of your body. You shivered and unconsciously scratched your throat, the lingering feeling of his hands were still on them. 

Aah, you don’t want this, you never wanted this, whatever did you do to your past life to deserve this? You didn’t want to sound like a whiny child but at this point, you were running out of options. As expected, you’re just no match for someone like Jamil, was this why he chose you in the first place? You played almost all tricks in the book and the remaining ones doesn’t seem so likely to work and the one thing that still makes you, yourself, is going to be taken away tomorrow. You’re so exhausted that you just want to sleep forever in this soft bed, but at the same time, you didn’t want to give up just yet, not when you already made it this far.

…But that still raises the question, what else can you do…? You have…no more valuable moves to play.

It’s checkmate.

You shivered at your own thoughts, no, that can’t be it. There has to be something else you can do! Something, something, something…! Once tomorrow comes, Jamil will finally take your virginity and that would absolutely seal your fate. That is the last step that bounds you forever with that guy and you…You don’t want that! You definitely need some kind of plan before that could happen, you need to be free or else, you’ll-

“Excuse me.”

In the midst of your breakdown, a knock on the door had you letting out a small yelp but at the same time, saved you from falling deep into your own desperation. You turned to the door in fear, only to quickly breathe the most relieved sigh you could possibly make as it opened for a different person and not the person you were dreading to see. It was just a Scarabia student who you happen to be familiar with, since he’s really the only person you’re able to see. The student who holds the job to bring you food when Jamil would be unable to. “The Vice Dorm Leader seems to be really busy right now so, I was instructed to bring you dinner.” He informed as he carefully placed a small table in the middle of your bed.

“Ah, thank you…” You said as you sniffled whilst he placed the plates of food in the table. He took one small glance at your appearance and you could already tell how guilty he looked like as he quickly looked away with his eyebrow slightly scrunched together. Your eyes softened, you always considered the Scarabia students as the nicest students in Night Raven College, probably influenced by their happy-go-lucky Dorm Leader. It’s just a shame how loyal they are with Jamil as well, considering how they know about your current situation but never really talked about it outside they’re dorms. You don’t blame them though, you knew they weren’t bad kids who doesn’t care about what will happen to you in this room, you knew that they were questioning Jamil inside their minds too.

This guy finished placing all your food on the tables, drinks and all, ready for you to eat without any problem. You give him a slight smile but you didn’t touch the food just yet. Bothered by his own conscience, the guy couldn’t help but open his mouth, seeing how utterly depressed you are. “Um…It’s not my place to say this but…” He started, taking a deep breath. “…Whatever our Vice Dorm Leader did this time, I’m sorry…Just please stay as strong as possible.”

You looked at him with your eyes slightly widen, his unexpected words somehow raised your heart up. He smiled at you slightly but quickly realized what he just said, covering his mouth. “Ah, that’s bad, I forgot I’m not allowed to interact with you for more than three minutes.” He said in panic before waving at you and turned his heel. “I’ll be going now…! Goodbye-“

“Why?” The guy stopped in his tracks and widened his eyes when he saw your teary eyes. “Why are all of you putting up with this?”

“Hey…Don’t you think this is wrong? Why are you all still following Jamil like this?” You looked up at him with an upset look. You felt bad confronting this one student whose only job is to bring you food like this, but you just found your mouth moving by itself. “It’s wrong, isn’t it? This isn’t fair for both you, me, and everyone else so…Why?”

“A-Ah...Please don’t cry...! Um...!” The guy scratched the back of his head, clearly hesitating whether he should just bolt out of the room or answer you right here and now. “…We know it’s wrong, but…It’s not like it’s that easy to go against our Vice Dorm Leader like you said…” 

“Even if we want to help you, we can’t…That puts us in the dangerous risk instead, considering what the Vice Dorm Leader can really do.” He explained, biting his bottom lip. “Our Dorm Leader is kind and really believes in our Vice Dorm Leader too so, we don’t want to cause him any more trouble than he’s already receiving.”

You pursed your lips together and wiped your frustrated tears. “Y-You’re right…I’m sorry for lashing out on you like that...” You apologized, no matter how desperate you are, you just don’t think you can live by the thought of endangering a bunch of innocent lives just to escape. You looked up at him as your vision clears up, your mind throwing away any irrational thoughts to leave space for critical thinking. That’s right, a bunch of innocent lives are in stake here but this guy...This guy can...

You slowly widened your eyes as a spark of hope came knocking at your door. There is still another way after all! “T-Then…! Would you listen to me!?” You suddenly yelled, startling the poor guy. “You alone is fine!”

The guy looked at you in bewilderment. “H-Huh…!? Are you saying that your gonna sacrifice me or something because that’s…!” He panicked but you quickly shook your head and hopped off the bed.

“No! Of course not! That’s not what I meant!” You said as you walked towards him and grabbed both of his hands, looking at him sternly. “I meant that the others don’t need to get involved, you alone can help me escape!”

“L-Like I said…”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to worry!” You leaned closer to him, your determined eyes were all fired up for the first time in a while. The poor kid didn’t know where to look as his face turns red and the hands you were gripping was beginning to sweat as well. “I’ll definitely come and protect you!”

“The more people I ask for help, the more risk of Jamil finding out, that’s why I only need your cooperation for this mission.” You said. “If we could pull this off and I successfully escape, I can come and look for help. 

“There’s no way I’d just leave you guys to face Jamil here just in case he goes berserk.” You said in a giggle, rendering the guy vulnerable to your touch. Finally, you looked up at him with a pleading but determined look. “That’s why...Would you please hear me out?”

The guy gulped down, nervous of the next words he was going to say. On one hand, he knew that he should just refuse, seeing how he doesn’t even know whether he’ll be able to pull whatever plan you have. But looking at the fire in your eyes, he really do feel sympathetic of your situation and understood your desire to be free. Even he doesn’t want you to live like this but he’s powerless on his own. 

“I-I get it...” He hesitantly said, unsure eyes couldn’t hide just how many doubts was lingering in them. “But if it goes down south, I’m pulling out, okay?”

You lighted up with a huge smile of appreciation. “That’s fine! I won’t let you be in harm’s way!” You swore as you let go of his hand. “Let’s be quick, Jamil might come back soon...!”

“So, listen carefully to what I have to say...”

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Continue the Spice~?

So...Remember how during Jamil’s birthday, in one of his Birthday crumbs, I mentioned that I got so hornii and accidentally spilt wine on my laptop...?

Uhh...THAT’S IT. THAT was the reason why my laptop broke down (´；ω；`) Yume being so stupidly hornii became her own downfall lol Be careful not to make the same mistakes I did, Darlings! Stay hornii but responsible hornii, ya feel!? (＞人＜;)

[pyrewriter]

Growing Guild

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I remember staying beneath the water for days at a time as we crossed the planet, our enemy didn't appear to have any interest in pursuing past land. Many suffered from churned stomachs due to the unsteady nature of the planet's waters. Only when we surfaced for circulating air to prevent stagnation and to survey the surrounding was their illness alleviated. With no way of knowing how other sects around the planet and across the system were affected, assuming they were hit at all I could only imagine. There was little point in dwelling on it however as even if I did know I could do nothing.

Instead I chose to focus on what Esyra had bestowed upon me, her helm and weapons were mine while the fate of the rest would be left to Ogethres. As a Vandal I was not allowed to wear a Captain's helm into combat but since it was Esyra's the final will, then ,should I live to obtain the rank of Captain, her helm would become mine. Her weapons on the other hand I could wield and they were far better than the standard weaponry that almost every Eliksni went into combat with. 

Esyra's shock rifle was exquisite, instead of the cobbled scrap it was solid wood stock that covered much of what would be exposed parts so one could rest their cheek for better use of the aperture site. The sidearm was standard save for it's odd internal wiring, upon inspecting it further I found that the pistol could discharge whatever energy was left in the cell in a single high powered burst. Her twin Captain's blades were thicker and heavier than a marauder's, making them more durable and able to handle more arc energy. I inspected, cleaned, and repaired each reverently before placing them on their respective racks on the wall of my living quarters.

After many weeks' travel we arrived on the other side of the planet ,nearer to the Great Machine but there was even more enemy activity in this area of the world. However such problems would have to wait as we had a more complicated issue at hand. Many different Eliksni from many different guilds, bands, and communes with leadership ranging from Captains to other Arkons were evacuated and spread across different Ketches. I received more than a few looks as I helped to sort every Dreg, Vandal, Captain, and Sprog. Sorting was the easy part however, now we needed to get them all to their proper leaders. 

Thanks to the abnormal density of our enemy there was a high risk of being detected so landing a large number of ships was out of the question. Instead Brykis and myself were sent as escort aboard a skiff for Ogethres' chosen envoy to propose a congregation to discuss the return of all. In short Ogethres and all the leaders who agree are to meet on the water between the ships that will serve as a neutral area to prevent having to go to each leader individually. 

A neutral ground provided no advantages to any leader as well as worked to prevent any kind of incidents from happening. House Dusk was system spanning and comprised of every house so factionalism was rampant and the lack of House identity within the new generations worsened the problem. Even if we survived the initial onslaught and exodus by throwing differences aside there was no telling how each leader would act in this calm period. To help ensure that every leader would come, three guards and a pilot of their choosing were welcome to accompany them. Some said they would think on the matter rather than agreeing almost immediately like most of the others. Leaders of smaller bands and communes were happy to be included let alone having their people returned.

It was a weeks time until the congregation but I did not sit idle in that time. I was assigned to prepare the Skiff our Arkon would be using as both transport to and a podium at the congregation. Since this was a relatively formal gathering of leaders only the most regal and pristine of Skiffs was to be used. Unfortunately no such Skiff was available so Ogethres chose one in a mild state of disrepair and then hand picked those who would work on it, I of course was part of this group. As a whole the craft was largely undamaged ,however, the hull was dented, discolored from ware and many parts were outright exposed.

Without the input of Ogethres himself we had no point of reference or point at which we were told stop so work continued until there was nothing left to work on. We worked around the clock on that Skiff to prepare it for the meeting, some worked themselves to the point of collapse but we continued until the day of the congregation. By the end the forward end had been almost entirely replaced. 

Just as I stepped back with the others to admire the fruits of our labor my communicator chimed on the bench next to my armor. It was a message from Pyrrhaks, I opened it. 

;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;

Sons Brykis, Ellrimksyt, prepare yourselves. 

We accompany Arkon Ogethres to congregation. 

;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;

I groaned, gathered what equipment I had brought with me to the hangar and headed for my quarters to finish preparing. When I opened the hatch Brykis was struggling with some of the straps of his armor, after helping him get settled he helped me in return. We grabbed our weapons, connected the ether tanks left, meeting with father on our way to the bridge. As all three of us entered the bridge we were greeted by Ogethres, "Prepared?" he clicked.

"Yes my Arkon, brought sons as asked, we ready to accompany" Pyrrhaks replied formally. 

Ogethres let out a low satisfied hum before ordering "Follow to hangar, then we go congregation, discuss next group movement". He stood from his seat at the helm and moved passed us with purpose in his stride, gesturing for us to follow as he passed. Entering the hangar we were met with House Dusk banners and Eliksni forming a path leading us to the Skiff. An unarmed pilot ,as per agreed upon, was already sitting in the cockpit to ferry us. Climbing onto the spine of the Skiff we clanged our feet to confirm our readiness and we were off. 

All but a handful of leaders did not appear at the congregation all of whom were leaders of smaller communes or bands. Talks were uneventful, consisting largely of how resources would be allocated to ensure all were returned to their people. I had zoned out for the grand majority of the discussions until something caught my ear. 

"Leaders of small communes, bands, many seek to swear under you, Arkon Ogethres" an Arkon of another guild stated with an informative chattering. 

A Captain of larger stature nodded his head "Indeed, word spreads, some good, other chiding, most of the three, your guard".

Ogethres paused for a moment to sigh before speaking, clearly and firmly "Those I favor, my concern only, regardless I accept those who swear under me, will gather during returns and-".

"Tell, who, what is your guard?" asked an ostentatious Baroness who was sent as a representative of a rather vain Arkon from one of the larger guilds. 

Beneath my helmet I cast my gave about to the handful of Captains and Arkons and felt their many eyes fall on our Skiff. Most had indifferent or curious gazes but the Baroness's peered straight at my Arkon. Tightening the grip on my shock spear I too looked to Ogethres to see how he would answer. I saw his body stiffen ever so slightly, whether it was out of anger for someone questioning his choice of company or fear of infighting about to erupt I couldn't tell. Thankfully that tension quickly disappeared as he spoke, his delivery was practiced, "My guard, raised from sprog like all, taught like all, he is one of guildi, that all you need know". 

The Baroness's seemed prepared for such a response, "Perhaps they show themself then".

“Irrelevant” another Arkon moaned, annoyed "All brought guard, what matter about his?".

Now the Baroness was annoyed "Quiet" she snapped with a chitter "Question not for you, it for Arkon who raised tainted-" 

"Enough idle chide!" Ogethres barked, "Your guild in shambles, mine grows, my guard among my greatest Barrons, his sons earned Forge Rights. Pyrrhaks, Wllrimksyt, Bykis, worthy of Kell Guard!".

"Ellrimksyt HUMAN!" the Baroness retorted.

I failed hold my tongue, "I AM ELIKSNI, if need to demonstrate, come see for self!" I growled furiously, stepping in front of uncle. Bringing myself to full height I drove my shock spear into the Skiff's hull before spreading my arms wide. I heard Ogethres start to say something but he stopped when two sets of footsteps came from behind me. My brother Brykis and father Pyrrhaks stood to either side of me, out of the corner of my eyes I saw them drive their weapons into the hull and spread their arms as well. None dared return the challenge.

By the day's end the congregation had ended peacefully with everyone being moved to the proper Ketches to be returned to their people. Of course Ogethres had reprimanded and  struck us for our actions following the congregation but I could tell he was ,as humans say, pulling his punches. In private he actually laughed and actually praised me for not taking the Baroness's insults and my father and brother for standing with me. Our guild had grown much thanks to the congregation, enough to fill the Ketch a pledging commune had brought with them which brought our guilds size to near double what it was.

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[chronicparagon]

(Compliment) from Kristoff, maybe they're already working together

@skullboysfinale

 Blinding white lights shine down on the silent corridor. “EMERGENCY” in bright red letters above the pair of doors at the end of the corridor stands out from the sterile white walls and floor with sparse signs bearing directions of the hospital's units breaking up the bland scenery.  Silence hangs heavy in the air while a young woman seeks refuge from the hall back into one of the break rooms.  

Hunched over at one of the chairs, she sits alone with a bottle of water in her shaking hand. It’s been only half an hour ago, but it’s as though it happened seconds ago and the aftermath of the rush of adrenaline leaves Harmony as an exhausted mess. Dark strands fell from her frizzing bun and sweat forms on her forehead no matter how many times she wipes it off. 

Long hours. Long, difficult hours where not one, but two lives hang by the thread. It almost didn’t seem real, and she never thought she wouldn’t succeed. It was one of the worst scenarios that could happen and all odds were against the patients. 

It was a fairly quiet evening until it began. 

“Community Care Hospital, this is Ambulance eighty-seven. We are en-route to your facility with a twenty-seven-year-old female who is thirty-seven weeks pregnant. She has sustained a gunshot wound to the abdomen...” 

Harmony races down the hall after she received the call from her RTLS and the pager alerting her of the emergency. 

“ She has been in and out of consciousness and has only answered a few questions...”

Heart pounding, her eyes set on her destination to prepare for the arrival. She has worked in this hospital for about three weeks now serving as the newest doctors. She usually worked in the clinic but went to the neighboring hospital as part of her rotation. This is her first night working and first emergency. 

“ Current vital signs are blood pressure fifty over thirty with heart rate at one hundred and twenty beats per minute. Current treatments are...”

Though the adrenaline pulses through her there is that fear locked away in her heart. That small thought that slowly grew with every second and every step.  An attempted burglarly turned bloody when one of the two men shot his gun at the woman before her boyfriend could jump in to save her. 

What if I mess this up? 

  “ETA five minutes.”

Just like that, the emergency department burst to life with a frenzy of staff preparing for the trauma patient. A domestic dispute turned bloody. The emergency department was preparing for the worst when paramedics raced against the clock.

The trauma team is ready to take over from the paramedics. The team led by Kristoff acted accordingly as though this is only standard procedure, but Harmony, the new doctor, is on pins and needles. That thought strengthened as she worries if one slip-up, one small mistake will cost the lives of the mother child. There are no seconds to spare when Harmony hears the sirens increasing in volume and flashing lights of red and blue intensified outside the emergency department. 

This is not a drill. It’s real. Ready or not, here they are. 

Oh God, oh god, oh...Oh, dear god!

Patient A was in a very grim state when she arrived. She struggled to breathe upon arrival. A man who is about the same age as Patient A was in shambles but nurses kept him at bay so the team can begin their work.

 Harmony recalls seeing the patient’s partner, a tall and muscular man, crumbling to his knees and falling to pieces as the nurses tried to comfort him. 

“It’s my fault! It’s all my fucking fault! I- I- I couldn’t sstop them! I can’t lose her! I c-can’t lose her and the baby! God! D-don’t take my family!” 

 Her heart went out to him but she couldn’t do much for him. Her job is with the patient and her baby but doubt rears its ugly head once more. Her heart rate flat lines when Kristoff got to Patient A and she turned pale. 

“Patient is unresponsive! Begin resuscitation at once!” 

Harmony knew she needed to grab the defibrillator, but her heart stops when she couldn’t move. Fear tightens its icy grip on her and Harmony’s blood went cold. She just needed to hurry and grab it! Why? Why was she so afraid? She didn’t hear Kristoff barking orders to grab it, only to give in and one of the nurses rushes to him with the defibrillator. 

Fuck me. Why did I just become a sitting duck like that? That could have killed both of them! Harmony’s eyes screw tight as the guilt falls on her shoulders. She remembered her hands shaking as she gave prepared the blood bag for transfusion.  There wasn’t much blood externally, but it’s apparent that most of the damage is inside. 

With a few shocks, the woman’s heart begins to beat again. It was slow before returning to its hurried pace. Examination found the fetus is still active. That is enough to move on to the next step: Emergency laparotomy and cesarean. 

Harmony was there when the procedure happened. She was on standby in case something went wrong.  She observed Kristoff and the team 

How can I just stand here and do nothing? The shame she bears was greater than she could have imagined. 

This isn’t like me! I should have known better. I’m a doctor, right? 

The baby was removed from the mother and placed with the pediatric surgeon. The baby wasn’t moving and his breathing was infrequent. 

I have spent years training for this. I know what to do. 

The baby’s lifeline was barely picking up as they began to prepare resuscitation. 

I know what to do....

Hands clenched at her sides to tight fists. The lifeline picked up before it flat lines.

“I got this!”  

Without hesitating, Harmony jumped in. She hears the surgeons instructions, following them to the letter. She did everything in her power to save the baby before her. 

Then, in a matter of seconds, a sound reaches their ears. A sharp gasp along with weak cries. The infant’s lifeline picked up and the neonatal surgery team rushed to keep him stable while repairing the injuries within him. 

Time ticked on with a father fearing for the worst in the waiting room. It moves forward while Kristoff completed the surgery with the mother’s internal wounds repaired. As for her baby, the bullet was found in his abdomen and the pediatric team made quick work in removing it and repairing the tiny body. 

Now, Patient A rests in Intensive Care while her son is under the watchful eyes of the nurses at the NICU.  Prognosis was positive, a strong contrast to the grim events that nearly ended in death. Although still afraid and guilty, Patient A’s partner is overcome with overwhelming relief and joy to hear that both mother and son are all right. 

 Long, long hours full of dread, doubt, but when it went from bad to worse, Harmony’s confidence returned and she saved a life. Tonight, the medical team beat death.     

That brings her to sitting on her own. She remembers how Kristoff became upset at her for not doing her tasks. She knew he was disappointed in her, to say the least. There’s no telling what he will say or do after that stunt. She never, ever admitted that she admires the other doctor. Sure, he’s always busy and most of the time, didn’t seem to notice her work. But it’s that work ethic that she admires. He would do anything he could to save a life. Always so calm and collected even in turmoil..

If only she was just like him and not panic like she just did. 

“You did great.” 

Harmony jumps in her seat and sits up with a small scream. She jerks her head to the door to find Kristoff by the door.  Did she hear him right? Did he just compliment her? Does he know what she did? Harmony is no person to brag. She’s just doing her job and wanted to give the little one a fighting chance. 

She’s gives him a tired smile in return. “You really think so?”  

[justimajin]

Catching a Case of the Doctor Blues ⌠Part 9⌡

⇢ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

⇢ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ (3.6k) Doctor/Surgeon AU, Enemies to Lovers AU

⇢ Summary: When asked about Dr. Kim, a string of beautifully aligned words are ready spew from your lips. You could possibly go on and on about how his wonderful stubbornness wasn’t similar to talking to a brick wall, or how his observation skills were especially great in preparing your blood vessels for a drastic rupture or even how one gracious stare of his nearly had you on the verge of ripping your essential documents in half. But it seems that, perhaps, there was a lot more to Dr. Kim then what meets the eye…

⇢ Warnings: graphical descriptions of surgery

⇢ Moodboard Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

⇢ Next Update: Tuesday, May 21

It’s a simple, quiet evening in the corners of the hospital; nurses are attending to patients, doctors are doing their regular check-ups and interns are keenly observing right by their side.

The comfortable atmosphere sits peacefully in the center of your office, your gaze dancing over a flood of papers as you take a swipe of your pen and swirl it around as an everlasting stamp. The man situated afar from you in the same room is also doing the same task, occasionally bending down to place to slurp on some cooked ramen he so conveniently decided to make.

“How did you even…?” You are unsure about how to phrase the question when your gaze falls on the cooked noodles, especially when he glances up at you with cheeks filled with ramen.

He brings up the bowl closer to you but you shake your head, “Yeah, no thanks.”

“We’ve been working for hours, I got hungry!” Jin replies after swallowing down the large volume of noodles. You roll your eyes, a light smile on your lips when he stretches his legs out.

“Can we take a break?” He whines, “I’m exhausted.”

With a loud sigh, you agree, “Sure. My legs are starting to give out too.”

Both of you get up with longer drawn out stretches, attempting to get some circulation flowing into your veins once again. Stepping outside, the hospital echoes with the faint silence when the dark sky is illuminated through the many windows.

“It’s a little spooky.” Jin comments, closing the door after you and you nod. Working late hours at the hospital wasn’t a very rare event, but the sudden hush for patient sleep was nerve-wracking to be in.

“We can walk around a bit and then come back.” You glance at your watch, calculating that it would take approximately one more hour to finish the paper work with two individuals working at the same time, then the two of you could be pleasantly on your way back home.

Walking around the hallways, the steps you take are silent, with only whispers being exchanged, “Is anyone still here?” Jin asks.

“Should be. Although, I think Jimin went home early today and Jungkook went with him.”

“Those two are awfully close.” Jin chuckles, raising a hand to subtly cover his mouth from the abrupt sound.

“They’re almost like brothers at this point.”

“Brothers? Shouldn’t it be father and son?” A soft laugh escapes you at that.

“I think you and Jungkook are more like father and son.”

Jin looks at you appalled, “Me? Raising that kid? As if!” You hurriedly shush him down when his voice increases in volume and he quickly pipes down.

“Oh come on, Jungkook probably looks up to you.”

“Why wouldn’t he? I’m a fantastic role model.”

Sarcasm drips into your voice. “With an inflated ego? Yep.”

“When you have a face like this, how can you not idealize it?” He dramatically gestures to himself and you try to contain your own laughter from the huge exhibition.

However, before you’re able to retort back with an equally ridiculous comment, heavy pounding against the floor infiltrates your ears.

“There you are!” Namjoon’s wide eyes land straight on you, “I need you to come with me.”

He looks frazzled, eyes scanning around and white coat barely staying on his shoulders. You silently nod as Namjoon begins abruptly walking with this only being your simple cue to follow. It dawns on you that leaving would probably leave Jin to do all the work on his own, but he sends you a reassuring gaze when Namjoon increases his strides, almost as if he was running to his destination.

“Namjoon, what is it?” You ask, jogging lightly to keep up with him.

“An emergency.” He states, “You’re probably acquainted with Jung Hoseok?” He swiftly glances at you and your eyes widen.

“I am.” Beginning to pick up on your own pace greatly to walk on pare with him, tension pools in the pit of your stomach from the sole mention of his name.

Namjoon eventually leads you into the side corridors of the operating room, which was currently a room used for creating and analyzing X-rays. There are fine prints of some hanging on the walls once you enter, but your breath hitches when your eyes run over the large volume of results.

“Diagnosis of pneumonia. Except it’s a lot worse than you would think.”

You nod, baffled when you see the obstruct clouds of white engulfed inside Hoseok’s lungs – an image that was typical for anyone that contracted a mild case of pneumonia. It doesn’t seem to show anything out of the plain ordinary and simply glancing over it makes you still agree it that it only appeared to be a case of pneumonia.

“He has pneumonia, I don’t see-“ Suddenly your eyes flicker over to the image situated on the right side of the X-ray. A CT Scan.

A scan that was always in depth with its findings.

You cautiously walk forward to the image and sharply narrow your orbs, before you finally catch on.

“Pneumothorax.” You whisper, eyes scanning thoroughly all over the abnormal shape the lung was contorted in and uneasiness flooding through every fiber of you when it was such a clear indication of critical suffocation.

Namjoon hums, “Precisely. A collapsed lung,” He pauses, walking to stand beside you, “that’s almost to the stage of shutting down. Potentially for good.”

You turn to him petrified and Namjoon already notices the troubled glint in your eyes, “We need to operate on him by tonight. Dr. Kim stayed back for work and has agreed to assist with the operation, so I need both of you to get prepared.”

You nod, turning to leave but you suddenly halt in your steps.

“Can I have five minutes?”

You rapidly pace through the empty hallway when the tension flashes inside your mind, only one thought being stuck to it. It leaves your nerves in complete shambles and the clock ticks down in slow, frightening intervals.

The office door sparks into your view and you lunged for the knob, attempting to twist but the door doesn’t budge. A frown sets on your lips, but when you inch closer to plant your ear on the door, the softest of sobs speaks immediately to you.

You remove your ear and opt out to gently knock on the door. Instantly a heavy thud resonates on the other side, followed by more rummaging that takes a couple of seconds.

The door flings open and you’re welcomed to a Min Yoongi with pink filled eyes lined with cracks of red.

“D-Did you want something?” He croaks out, sniffling as he speaks.

“Are you okay?” The only thought had run through your mind when Namjoon had explained the situation to you was him. Maybe he had assumed that it wasn’t apparent to anyone else, but you could easily make out the warm exchanges him and Hoseok had – from the way Hoseok spoke so fondly about him and the way Yoongi would subtly linger around his side longer than he was required.

But the news itself was petrifying, leaving you unsure how he was dealing with the knowledge that Hoseok’s life had been dangling right in front of him and that the results of tonight’s operation would ultimately determine his undecided fate.

He sniffles again, this time reaching to dab his eyes with his white sleeve when they unconsciously re-surface drops of water, “I-I don’t know, I knew something was wrong and I just hate that we only found out now.”

He takes a sharp breath, attempting but failing to compose himself, “And by tomorrow…”

“We’ll try Yoongi,” He looks up to meet your fixed gaze, “We’ll save him.”

Taking a long drawn out breath, he nods, “I’m trusting you on this.”

“I’ll try my best.” You whisper, before he starts to usher you away.

“You need to get going. They’ll start preparations soon.” You take a quick glance at the clock and you firmly nod before hurriedly rushing away.

High amounts of concern cloud your mind immensely and the words Yoongi had left with you causes you to slow down, gripping down onto every single syllable.

“Y/N.”

You stop midway, about to head towards the operation room to turning around in Yoongi’s direction. The same heart-wrenching grief remains in Yoongi’s eyes, however the final words he leaves you with makes you feel like his entire world was resting on your shoulders.

“Please make sure he can breathe again.”

You deeply exhale, heading out with now heavy blue covered scrubs adorned instead of the light white coat. Walking towards the sterilization room, Yoongi’s words repeat in your mind when you recall the amount of times you had passed by Hoseok; suffering and struggling.

It was horrible, to even imagine that someone as wonderful and cheerful as Hoseok was dealing with being slowly suffocated as he spent his days here, to the point where his lungs were prepared to give it all up.

But it’s even more horrible when you have to come down to the conclusion that the only sole people who can stop Hoseok’s suffering were you, Namjoon and-

“Dr. L/N?” He questions, standing behind you when his voice again pulls you out of your thoughts and you want to inwardly groan.

“What?” You respond. Having a mind already consumed with impending pressurizing thoughts doesn’t quite leave you with any free space to handle Dr. Kim at the moment.

“Is…” He trails off, but you raise an eyebrow at him when he pauses. Dr. Kim would always speak to you sternly and directly, having his thoughts collected before trying to talk to you. “Is Dr. Min alright?”

If you were confused before, you’re completely blown away now. You were expecting a lot of things – jabs at your association with Hoseok, questioning if you were sufficient enough for the surgery, nit picking at any instance to rile up a distasteful reaction out of you.

Dr. Kim actually questioning about Yoongi’s wellbeing was far from the list, actually not existing on it at all.

“U-Uh…” You’re at a loss of words, not knowing how to retort, “He’s not doing so well…”

You’re not too sure if you should elaborate more to him, but Dr. Kim’s silently nods, “I see…”

Walking forward, you begin to sterilize your hands in the midst of blinking your eyes a couple of times. The whole interaction throws you off, being so well used to Dr. Kim’s rather annoying pieces of conversation that an automatic repulsive answer was always prepared for you. You didn’t think much about it, Dr. Kim set your nerves on fire and lets the rage pool inside, but these crucial reactions weren’t occurring.

Oddly enough, the change of conversation briefly diminishes the worrisome thoughts brewing inside your mind for the soon conflicting operation. 

Walking into the operating room isn’t the same now; heavy steps are pounding against the tiled floor, fidgeting hands are kept on bay and your heart is accelerating at a tenfold speed. The same team of individuals surround you as before – nurses in blue ready to assist and the two necessary members situated in front of you.

The atmosphere is coated with the same twisted doubt just like the last surgery you had performed and it causes you to let out a shaky breath. For a brief moment, you try to dismiss all those past lingering thoughts, attempting to get your mind to narrow back in at the task at hand.

However, the white sheets are pulled upward and the moment your eyes land on Hoseok’s delicate features, that entire mentality is thrown out the window.

He’s incredibly pale, looking considerably worse than when you had last seen him. It irks you so much, churning your insides when you recall his sunny disposition and hopeful aura, now being reduced to a frail patient whose life rested in your hands.

With a deep sigh, Namjoon begins the procedure by carefully navigating around the space of Hoseok’s face so he can insert in a tube leading into the lungs. The process thankfully will be less difficult than the previous pancreatomy you had to go through and didn’t require the grueling steps of attempting to remove an entire cancerous organ.

The first step was simple – the lungs needed to be drained of the fluid that accumulated in them in order to relieve the persistent symptoms of pneumonia. Additionally, it gives you the perfect opportunity to repair the remainder issue of his collapsed lung, a part of the surgery that was going to be exceeding hard to maneuver around without draining the built-up liquid.

Once Namjoon finishes attaching the scope to his nose and mouth, a nurse enters the room with a blank monitor and Dr. Kim moves forward to assist her with setting up the machine. It instantly clicks on and displays a clear image of the chaos ensuring inside Hoseok lungs.

Namjoon cautiously moves the scope around, examining the precise location for the largest volume of the liquid. In the midst of this, you keep a sharp eye on the second monitor across from him which showcases Hoseok’s vital signs, fully being aware that it would disastrous for complications during the examination process.

The image drifts back and forth several times before a proper picture of the inside of lungs being displayed and revealing the location of drainage. Namjoon nods as confirmation before both you and Dr. Kim moves swiftly to insert the tubes that will remove the unwanted liquid into the small spot Namjoon had inserted the scope in.

The liquid initially pipes slowly, small bubbles forming inside the tube, but it soon picks up and an abundant amount flows through. Namjoon’s eyes remain glued to the screen, ensuring that the correct fluid was being picked up and that no further complications were occurring because of your actions.

You glance over at the vitals monitor, a sigh of relief escaping through when Hoseok is considerably remaining stable through the drainage.

Namjoon motions you to stop, assessing that the correct amount had been taken out in which the two of you move to remove the tubes while Namjoon keeps the scope inside. After the tubes had been taken out, Namjoon hums in content when the pipes on the monitor have substantially opened up and the hollow tube is not longer filled with a cloudy white mixture.

However, this was the simple part.

You had just performed the basic procedure doctors would do if a patient had a severe case of pneumonia and instantly needed a method of relief if antibiotics were proving to be ineffective. It wasn’t a terrifying operation per say because of how often it would need to be used.

The additional complication Hoseok had however, was the game changer.

His collapsed lung. Essentially a painful pressure of air lodged inside his chest cavity that was causing his lungs to shrink into an abnormal, curvaceous shape. It was the source of all his pain and a small, brief wrong move could cut off his air supply instantly, rendering him no oxygen.

The shiny prick of a needle is displayed through Namjoon’s outstretched hands and its sole appearance tugs your lips downward. Due to the very precise foundation of the surgery, it was utterly necessary to drill into your skull of how careful you had to be doing this.

Taking a gulp, you take the needle from him and look down at the boy currently lying on the stretcher in front of you. You take the syringe component and attach it onto the needle, requiring a pump to decrease the amount of air pressure built inside his lungs.

You cautiously insert the needle into his skin and let it penetrate through into his chest cavity. Slowly inching forward, you flinch when a large amount of air pushes against the needle and immediately flows into the syringe. It arises from the air being trapped inside his lungs for so long and you ensure that the amount isn’t too overwhelming to the point where you puncture into his airflow.

Draining the air comes smoothly and your eyes are fixated onto the spot that you had penetrated through to make sure that no tears are made in the flesh because of the needle.

But this is when his vitals start to respond to you.

You don’t move your gaze when the beep sounds through the room, the small siren alerting you of the treacherous field you were starting to trespass into.

“Blood pressure is decreasing.” Namjoon states, keeping an eye on the monitor as you perform your part.

You nod, blood pressure decreasing was not surprising because you were directly interfering with his air flow which was important for supplying the blood stream with oxyg-

“Heart rate is also decreasing.” Dr. Kim mutters in a tone lined with warning and it causes your thought process to stagger just like the lines on the monitor.

Heart rate…?

Your eyes quickly flicker around, examining his torso when the dark blue veins begin to peep out of his lightly tinted skin.

Low oxygen was interfering with the blood stream. Pressure had decreased, which was normal because of you interfering, but heart rate decreased and his veins were changing color.

He wasn’t getting enough oxygen. You were starting to cut off his air supply.

Panic floods through you when you focus begins to dwindle on the needle placed inside of him and how you were so close to removing all of the air from his lungs. You had to continue on to finish the operation, but he wasn’t being able to breathe at the momen-

A hand reaches out to slide against yours, slowly tugging the needle outwards and you receive an alarming look on your features from the gesture.

Dr. Kim holds the needle with you and his gaze is completely trained onto it, before his eyes briefly flicker onto your own.

“We have to continue with cutting off his air supply but reduce the amount being taken out. We can’t stop the procedure but we can lower the chances of suffocating him.” He gently states, his voice morphing in such a way where he sounded like he was trying to reassure.

You let it pass, nodding when you focus back onto Hoseok who needed all of your attention. Namjoon seems to be in agreement with Dr. Kim when he watches the monitor that continues to violently stray low with the impending decision.

The sirens keep blaring out and you can’t get a proper control on how you keep flinching when every single one rings, knowing that what you were doing was going to be unlikely to work. It becomes even worse when the tremor in your hands appears once again and despite your best efforts, your hands continue to tremble.

A soft amount of pressure is applied to your hands and you widen them, eyes darting around to wonder if the needle was still situated in the same position. It was; however, Dr. Kim’s blue latex hand covers yours completely and you come to the discovery that in the midst of trying to help you, he was actually holding your hand.

Abruptly, you flicker your eyes up at him and are taken aback when you realize his gaze was on you, observing any sort of reaction emitting out as you were internally battling with the situation.

You quickly lower your gaze, having a million questions racing in your mind but attempting to forget them in order to focus. It doesn’t help when you have to acknowledge that any times your hands give out, a slight tremble, a subtle shake, he applies more pressure onto them.

You try to ignore the comforting, warm vibe they emit.

Suddenly, the monitor beeps and both of you glance at it simultaneously.

The air pressure in Hoseok’s lungs had decreased substantially, returning to the normal level.

The huge amount of relief graciously flows in you when you let out a low exhale, returning the smile Namjoon gives when he comes over to assist you in removing the needle and patching up the spot that had been penetrated.

The rest of the operation involves ensuring that everything had been sterilized and that Hoseok’s vitals were still in the safe zone. Once those two tasks had been check-marked, Namjoon utters the words that have a large tired smile lining your lips when the whole entire operation room brims with the satisfaction.

“Surgery successful.”

You close your eyes when the room fills with cheers, many of the nurses patting you on the back when Namjoon shoots you a dimpled smile as well. When you reach out to thank all of them for the considerate amount of help they had done for you, a faint whisper resonates near your ear.

“Nicely done Dr. L/N.” The deep sound of the owner’s voice disappears when Dr. Kim walks in front of you to leave, sending you a small satisfied glance as he walks by.

Although complimented, you tilt your head at the display. A genuine praise, not paired with a smirk, not added with a small triumphing pose in front of you as a way to claim his victory.

Your eyes instantly land onto your hands, your mind flickering when even you don’t notice the slight pink tinting on your own cheeks from the memory.

[fuwafuwamedb]

Meeting the Clock Tower (Rin, Cu Caster)

Rin listened to the ticking of the clock nearby, watching the young woman settle before her and pour her tea softly.

“Thank you for coming, Tohsaka. It’s a pleasure to have one of your lineage back in the Clock Tower.”

“I’m merely here to meet and come to an agreement with you on the interns that we’ve been having come to Chaldea.” She poured her own cup of tea, putting two sugars into her drink and stirring gently. “I have come to understand that there’s been a lack of interns permitted to come to Chaldea lately.”

“It’s a two way street,” the woman told her.

“Oh?”

“Ever since the unfortunate accident of the aberration in Chaldea, a few golden haired servants have been vetting and sending back interns.”

Aberration?

If it had to do with a golden haired servant, then they were most likely speaking of Gilgamesh.

Which meant that they were speaking of Hakuno.

“Can you tell me about the incident? I would like it for my own personal report,” Rin told her.

“Of course.” The noble put the cup down, smiling softly. “An intern was helping her with a very unneeded sauna chamber and the aberration got herself trapped. It seems that the golden servant found her and assumed the worst.”

“It seems?”

“The intern was sent back with her mind in shambles and barely alive.”

“Ah.”

Which meant she had been found guilty.

“Since then,” the noble explained, “there has been a slow increase in the filtering of mages sent to Chaldea. Many come back speaking of vicious servants.”

Rin sipped at her tea for a bit, nodding at her words and thinking.

The room was spinning a little as she sat there.

“Tohsaka.”

Rin looked over at the door, noting Caster leaning in.

“I’m interrupting, but it’s been twenty minutes.”

It had?

No, it’d been a minute.

“Perhaps give us another moment or two,” the noble offered. “We are in the middle of an agreement being reached.”

Rin looked down at the document sitting on the table.

She didn’t remember this document being there.

“Would you like to sign now, Tohsaka?” The noble asked.

“No.”

She didn’t know what she was signing.

In fact, Rin stood up, walking or rather- wavering here and there- to Caster’s side.

“Are you alright?”

Rin pressed a hand to the caster, closing her eyes a moment before speaking.

“Thank you for clarifying why negotiations were unsuccessful with Kishinami and the Master of Chaldea.”

“Please visit tomorrow, Tohsaka,” the noble told her. “We should chat longer.”

She wouldn’t.

She could barely stand right now.

“My master is occupied tomorrow,” Caster told the woman, rescuing her from being seen as effected by the tea.

[lazywonderlnds-blog]

FIC: What’s My Age Again?

Pairing: Harry/Draco Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 12,249 Kinks/Tropes: Top!Harry, Bottom!Draco, Quidditch Player!Harry, Ministry Worker!Draco, Confident!Harry, Bisexual!Harry, Hung!Harry, Rimming, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Rough Sex, UST, Flirting Warnings: Minor recreational drug use Summary: Harry Potter has had enough of pleasing the public, and his reckless tendencies are finally getting out of hand. The Quidditch World Cup is only a week away; as Captain of the English National Team, Hermione has assured him that his immaturity won’t be tolerated by the Ministry. And then Malfoy shows up. (Inspired by the blink-182 song of the same name.) Links: AO3 Notes: WOW, I’ve been working on this forever and here it finally is! Likes and reblogs are, of course, greatly loved and appreciated. ❤️

                                                        *  *  *

                        “ No one should take themselves so seriously                               With many years ahead to fall in line                                  Why would you wish that on me?                                      I never wanna act my age

                                       What's my age again?  ”

                                                                 - blink-182

                                                          *  *  *

 Harry’s flat was in utter shambles; Hermione had come by in the middle of her work day to help him restore order.

Some time last night while he had been out having a pint with Ron and Dean Thomas, somebody had come into his London apartment and trashed the place. 

Not just somebody, though — it had been Emily, the cute little blonde-haired witch he’d been dating a year now, who had turned out to be not so much cute and little as she was needy and suffocating. This disaster was the proof, if he’d needed it.

With a wave of his wand, Harry repaired an electric lamp that had smashed into a million pieces across his hardwood floor, sending it flying back into place on an end table. The leather couch beside it had been slashed to ribbons, as well — the stuffing had been everywhere — but Hermione had already taken care of that one, and an hour later it looked good as new.

“I suppose this means we’re not dating anymore, does it?” said Harry, lifting an eyebrow as he surveyed the flat, trying to spot anything they’d missed. Hermione finished straightening the clock that sat on top of his mantel and then turned to look at him.

“That seems like a safe bet considering the 'WE'RE OVER' in red lipstick on your bathroom mirror,” she agreed sardonically, looking exasperated. “What happened? Just a fortnight ago Emily was telling me she thought you might be thinking of proposing. How do you get from that to this? I mean, my goodness, Harry.”

“Proposing?” he echoed, latching onto the word and ignoring the rest of Hermione’s question. “She said she thought I’d be proposing?”

“Well, yes.” Hermione took a seat on the newly-repaired sofa, brushing some hair out of her eyes and fixing Harry with a probing stare. “You’ve been together a year and a half now, she seemed to think that was the direction it was heading. I did, mind you, bring up the fact that you continue to refuse to move in with her, which hardly bodes well for a marriage, but you know Emily.”

“Selective hearing,” said Harry dourly. He felt his irritation mounting. “Well, bollocks to her, then. Crazy wench.”

“Harry!” 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, though he wasn’t. He was confused, yes. Monumentally pissed off, absolutely. But sorry? Not even a little bit. “Good to be rid of her, to tell you the truth. Couldn’t bloody stand it having her here every time I came home from practice. Didn’t even let me take a bath without bringing me a sodding tray of tea and biscuits. Like I can be arsed to eat biscuits when I’m trying to have a fucking soak.”

Hermione, to his surprise, had started chuckling.

“It’s not a bloody joke, Hermione! You try having a relaxing bath with soggy bits of food floating around the bubbles.”

“Why hadn’t you broken up with her, then?” 

Realizing he didn’t have much of an answer, Harry merely shrugged. 

“So, then, what was it?" she scoffed. "What could you possibly have done to provoke the bedlam we just spent an hour cleaning up?” 

“It wasn’t just one thing,” he said, rolling his eyes as he sat down beside Hermione. She lifted an eyebrow. “She’s been cross with me all week. Last Saturday night it started, because of that Ministry event. The fundraiser one, can’t remember what it was for.”

“The one you didn’t show up to,” Hermione said dryly.

“She went off on me like you wouldn’t bloody believe when I told her I wasn’t going,” he went on, ignoring Hermione’s tone entirely. “Should’ve heard the things she was saying. Told me that I haven’t got my priorities straight and I ought to start living up to my name.” 

A hand flew up to Hermione’s mouth, suppressing what was clearly laughter. Harry didn’t bother hiding his own grin. 

“It was really something, I’ll tell you that much. I guess what finally did it, though, was, er — well, I may have forgotten we’d had a date the other night and gone out with the team after practice. It wasn’t on purpose or anything, though!” he said quickly. “Not like I deliberately blew her off.” 

“Harry,” Hermione deadpanned, reminding him forcefully of their years at Hogwarts together. He might have blown off a Transfiguration essay for all the reproach that was soaked into her voice. “While I don’t condone this tantrum she’s thrown, I really do think you owe her an apology. That was incredibly insensitive.”

“I know —”

“And if you were so fed up with her, you should have just broken up with her —”

“I know, Hermione —”

“I mean, really, Harry, there’s just no point, you’re making yourself as miserable as you’re making her —” 

“I know, Hermione!” he barked, exasperated.

“Well, why didn’t you do it, then!” she retorted immediately, looking beady-eyed and disapproving. Any trace of humour had drained from her countenance. “You could have saved us the trouble of repairing your entire flat this afternoon!” 

“I dunno, do I?” he said irritably, standing up from the sofa and dragging a hand through his wildly messy hair. This was a lie, though — he did sort of know why, he just wasn’t keen on discussing his aversion to engaging in any sort of serious conversation. “I didn’t want to deal with it, I suppose. I’d bet you a hundred Galleons she’d have done the same thing if I’d broken up with her, anyway, she’s barking. At least this way it saves me a row.”

Hermione made a throaty noise of disbelief. “What, you think you’re just never going to talk to her again? Harry, you still have to properly end it!” 

“You’re joking, right?” Her face made it very clear she was not. Harry scoffed. “This is what she did to my house, Hermione. Imagine what she’ll do to me.”

“You know, Harry, you are being a bit immature about this —”

“Oh, not you too,” Harry snapped, mood plummeting the instant the word ‘immature’ had left her mouth. His temper was not easy to stoke these days, quite the opposite of the way he’d been before the war — although Harry supposed that might have had something to do with the fact that, in the last few years, he’d stopped taking anything all that seriously. “Like the Prophet isn’t bad enough.” 

“I’m just talking about your relationship, Harry,” Hermione said sharply. She stood up now too, and there was a stern look on her face like she’d moved past exasperation and on to genuine annoyance. “But, you know, if you want my honest opinion, I do think you’ve been acting incredibly immature these last couple years, and it’s only been getting worse.”

“Funny, I don’t remember asking your honest opinion,” he sniped, but Hermione, apparently, had had enough.

“I knew something like this was going to happen,” she snapped, gesturing around the flat which had only an hour ago looked like a nuclear test site. “It was bound to, eventually, the way you’ve been acting! Like a — a —” 

“Go ahead, say it,” Harry bit out. He knew the word she was dancing around — it had been used in conjunction with his name for months now in the media, ever since some sneaky, pathetic reporter had stalked him long enough to get a candid of him hitting a joint, and then sold it to the Daily Prophet for what Harry was sure had been a very large sum of gold. 

“Like a teenager!” she yelled, face pink with emotion. Harry scowled. “You miss nearly every Ministry event you’re invited to, and when you do go, you end up completely sloshed and saying something controversial; you get caught doing Muggle drugs and don’t even make a statement about it, not even an attempt at smoothing things over; and now you’re blowing off dates with your girlfriend and driving her to destroy your flat! Honestly, Harry! I’ve been maintaining for years now that you need to go about this post-war stuff in your own way, get it out of your system, whatever this is, but … but this is where I draw a line! Harry James Potter … I am disappointed in you!”

“Great!” Harry yelled, and his unchecked emotions caused the lightbulb in the electric lamp he’d repaired to explode. Hermione jumped. “Brilliant! Only would you mind being disappointed in me somewhere else? I was looking forward to lighting up a couple joints and premeditating my next really immature publicity stunt!”

Hermione swelled like an angry cat. “Oh, I can’t stand when you get like this! It’s completely useless arguing with you!” Snatching her purse up from a chair, she marched over to the fireplace. “I have to get back to work. Do not forget to be at the pitch at six tonight for the first dry run. The other team will be there to see the stadium and the Israeli Head of International Wizarding Relations will be there as well to meet Kingsley. And Malfoy, since Bosley won’t be there.” 

The name sent another burst of irritation flooding through Harry’s veins; in a fit of childishness that the Prophet would dearly have loved to know about, he grabbed a nearby candle and chucked it across the room, where its glass holder shattered against the opposite wall. Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Remind me again why he’s going to be there? Did Bosley and everyone else in the Department die, or something?”

“Bosley’s got a terrible case of dragon pox, so he’s appointed Malfoy to go in his stead. Do not start a fight with him, Harry, I have never been so serious in my life. So help me god, I will hex you within an inch of your life if you make us look bad in front of the Israelis. It’s unprecedented for the Cup to be held in the same country twice within such a short time span, and since the last one here was in —” 

“Ninety-four, yes, I’m well aware of that, Hermione, thanks.”

“Then you know you need to be on your best behaviour if you expect it to be hosted here again within this century!”

“I’m not gonna start anything with him! Merlin’s fucking tits. I thought you had to get back to work, I’ll see you tonight.” 

Hermione, lips pursed and eyes narrowed, took a handful of Floo Powder from a vase on the mantel and disappeared into the green flames. Harry looked around at the glass all over his floor and, with a deep, resentful sigh, went to clean it up.

                                                        *  *  *

  The Cup was especially exciting this year; not only was it being held in Britain, but the English National Team was playing. Hermione, who had quickly risen to become Senior Undersecretary to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in their years after Hogwarts, had been deeply involved in the process of getting ready for the 424th Quidditch World Cup.

Traditionally held every four years, the Cup had been postponed in ’98 due to the British Ministry’s need for recovery following the end of the war. Spain had been the winners of the last Cup in 1999, and with Britain in place now to nab the 2003 trophy, Harry had been feeling the pressure from all sides, particularly Fancourt — the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports — who never missed a chance to let Harry know he’d be counting on him in August.

And now it was August, the Cup was a week away, and the only thing spoiling what should have been the best week of Harry’s life was Draco sodding Malfoy.

After finishing a makeup year at Hogwarts and graduating with only one less N.E.W.T. than Hermione, Malfoy had, in spite of his déclassé name (and because of his excellent marks), managed an entry-level job at the Ministry in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Within four years, he’d risen far enough that he’d become a prominent figure in the Department, and had apparently been hand-chosen by the Department Head — Cadmus Bosley — to represent him tonight when his Israeli counterpart came in.

The stadium was in exactly the same place as it had been when Harry had gone to see the World Cup at fourteen. Only a week away, hundreds of witches and wizards from all over the world with cheap tickets had already begun to gather on the campground outside. Harry arrived at an Apparition point specifically for Ministry officials and the players themselves.

It was ten after six when he walked out onto the pitch, flooded with lights. He saw a good deal of people high up in the air, soaring around the stadium on their brooms, while those in more professional-looking robes were standing in a group in the centre of the field. The only immediately-recognizable one out of the group from a distance, white-blond hair shining like a beacon, was Malfoy.

“There you are!” Hermione said when she saw him, looking incredibly exasperated. Kingsley shot Harry a wink, and Harry smirked at him in return. He glanced once at Malfoy, who lifted an arrogant eyebrow, and then looked away again with every intention of pretending he didn’t exist. Fancourt grabbed Harry’s hand in his turn and shook it once, firmly, with a jovial little “Good to see you, Harry, good to see you!” With those greetings (or lack thereof) out of the way, Hermione directed Harry’s attention to the Israeli wizards. “Harry, this is Moshe Mizrachi, the Israeli Minister for Magic. Minister, this is Harry Potter, our Seeker and Captain.” There was the inevitable lift of eyes to take in his scar, and Harry only just managed not to scowl. “And this is Noam Peretz,” she went on, indicating a second wizard, “their Department Head for International Wizarding Relations. Mr. Peretz, Harry Potter.”

“Delighted, Mr. Potter, truly,” Mr. Peretz said warmly, shaking Harry’s hand and looking up at Harry’s forehead once again. When he tore his eyes away, they landed back on Hermione, then shifted to Malfoy. “I was hoping to go over security details, then …”

As the talk shifted back to business, Harry figured he’d be allowed to sidle off and join the rest of his team, a few of which had landed once they’d seen the Ministry officials wandering off. Harry spared one last glance at Malfoy, who was pointing something out in the stands to Mr. Peretz, before turning and spotting Killian Vance — one of their Beaters — landing a few feet away.

“All right there, Harry?” he said, grinning brightly. “Bradley and I were taking bets on whether you’d show up or not.”

“The hell kind of Captain do you think I am?” Harry scoffed, halfway between amusement and guilt. It was always fairly easy to ignore what the media had to say about him, but when his reputation began cropping up like this, among his friends and his colleagues — when he was forced to face the consequences of his rapidly-deflating sense of responsibility — Harry always felt a small pang of uncertainty.

But he didn’t like to think too much about that if he could help it.

“You’d’ve got away with it if you hadn’t,” Killian said, and judging by the conspiratorial wink, he thought he was paying Harry quite a compliment. Harry tried not to let his exasperation show.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry was engrossed in a deeply complicated conversation with Jeremy Fowler, England’s Keeper, revolving around tactics for the game next week. This made it even more irritating when Malfoy interrupted them. 

“Potter,” he drawled, cutting Fowler off mid-sentence, and Harry felt his hackles instantly rise. Fowler looked nonplussed, and after going back and forth a few times between the looks Harry and Malfoy were giving one another, he apparently decided scarpering was prudent. “We need to discuss —” 

“I was in the middle of a conversation, Malfoy,” Harry snapped. “You’ve got no fucking manners, do you?”

“Language,” Malfoy said breezily. Harry clenched his jaw and forced his fists to remain at his sides. Malfoy seemed to have noticed them, because a look of dark amusement crossed his arrogant face. “As I was saying, we need to discuss your behaviour over the following week.” 

“Excuse me?”

“Your behaviour, Potter. I’m referring, of course, to your penchant for acting like a moronic teenager every time you’re out in public these days.” Harry opened his mouth, ready to start yelling if he wasn’t allowed to throw a punch, but at the very last second managed to swallow back everything he wanted to say. Hermione was about twenty feet from them with the Israeli Minister, and she’d given him a sharp look after having spotted him with Malfoy. He could feel his nails digging into his palm and wondered if he’d broken the skin. Malfoy watched him through all of this with narrowed eyes, perhaps waiting for his outburst; a smirk touched his lips when he appeared to have decided it wasn’t coming. “Very good, Potter. You’ll want to continue exercising discretion until the Cup is over. I know the only thing that comes naturally to you is acting bull-headed and reckless, but if you embarrass the Ministry this week, there will be hell for you to pay. Is that clear?” 

“If that’s the case,” Harry retorted sharply, “you should stay as far away from me as possible, since you’re the only thing that’s making me feel like doing something reckless right now, Malfoy.”

“I’m flattered, truly,” Malfoy said with an ostentatious roll of his eyes. “Do I have your word, then, Potter? No drinking in public, no Muggle drugs, no —”

“What, I can’t smoke any weed this whole week?” he said, mock-surprise colouring his voice with sarcasm. Malfoy’s pouty lips thinned with irritation and Harry could see a muscle working in his jaw. “I dunno, Malfoy, I really can’t promise something like that. You know me, bull-headed and reckless is all I know. Besides, how else do you expect me to relax? It’s like me telling you not to take it up the arse anymore — would you really be able to give that up, Malfoy? Be honest.” 

The sight of Malfoy spluttering incoherently was so satisfying it nearly made up for the destroyed flat that morning.

“That’s what I thought,” Harry said solemnly, ridiculously proud of the way he was successfully holding back his laughter. Laughter, of all things — to think he had been only seconds away from getting drunk instead of coming to this thing seemed impossible now. “Before you ask me to give up something I love, think first about how you’d feel if someone asked you to give up something you love —”

“Shut the fuck up, Potter!” Malfoy shouted; then, seeming to come back to himself, took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Harry thrilled to know how quickly he’d gotten right underneath Malfoy’s skin.

“Language, Malfoy —”

“Potter, I swear to god, one more word,” Malfoy snapped. Harry’s teeth clicked shut and he grinned broadly over them. “Since you are utterly incapable of taking anything seriously —”

“That’s not fair, Malfoy,” Harry interrupted him. Malfoy looked ready to tackle Harry to the ground. “I would seriously love to eat your arse right now —”

“Oh my god,” Malfoy threw his hands up in capitulation, cheeks positively flaming. Harry simply couldn’t hold back a bark of laughter. “You’re completely fucking incorrigible. You know what? See if I care. In fact, I hope you make an arse out of yourself, Potter; then Hewitt can play instead of you.” 

“You’d rather see me put in my place than win the game?”

“Oh please, arrogance looks terrible on you, Scarhead.” Malfoy made a tch-ing sound of disgust in his throat. He looked completely flustered, the blush on his face having spread down his neck, and Harry was only mildly interested to note a stirring of arousal in his belly. Arrogant and intolerable as he might have been, the reality of Malfoy’s physical appeal was unavoidable, and he looked especially delicious right now, worked up on nothing more than Harry’s taunting. He supposed he really wouldn’t have minded eating Malfoy’s arse, in fact. “Anyway, seeing as this is utterly pointless — goodbye, Potter. I so look forward to seeing you watching from the sidelines next week.”

Harry didn’t bother saying anything else, and Malfoy didn’t bother waiting anyhow. His eyes found Malfoy’s arse as he sauntered away, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. Shagging that contemptuous sneer off his face was unrealistic, maybe, but thinking about it suited Harry just fine.

                                                        *  *  * 

  He’d only smoked marijuana three or four times since the incident six months ago when that incriminating photograph had appeared in the paper, and before having had his row with Malfoy, he’d had no intention at all of lighting up between now and the Cup. 

Of course, there was nothing so tempting as the forbidden fruit, and Harry had always been particularly susceptible when it came to things he wasn’t supposed to do. 

There were two things on his mind that night as he sat drinking a lager amongst a rather large group of his friends, in a pub just down the street from Ron and Hermione's flat: Malfoy, and the eighth of weed trapped inside an airtight jar in his bedroom closet. 

The latter briefly shifted to the back of his mind, however, when the former walked into the pub ahead of a nameless, dark-haired bloke who was holding the door for him.

Nobody else seemed to notice Malfoy’s presence; Malfoy saw him within moments, though, and Harry smirked as soon as their eyes met. 

For having chucked a glass candle-holder across his flat that morning, he was remarkably pleased to be seeing Malfoy now. And perhaps he was acting like a teenager, to be getting off on something as trivial and petty as a schoolyard rivalry; maybe it was immature to be thinking about how good it would feel to have his cock buried in Malfoy’s perfect arse when he should have been thinking about keeping his head down until the Cup was over; but for the first time, it occurred to Harry that maybe, if it meant enjoying himself this much, he rather deserved be childish while he was still young.

Didn't he?

He swigged back the rest of his beer and banged the empty glass down on the table. Dean hollered cheerfully.

“Harry, that was your third, wasn’t it?” Hermione said in a voice of forced casualness; beside her, Ron snorted into his own glass. She shot him a quick, disgusted look before leveling her watchful gaze back on Harry. “Just remember you’ve promised to cut yourself off after three —”

“Oi! The man just got dumped, Hermione, let him live a little tonight,” said Dean, to which Harry laughed and Hermione merely scowled. “What’s he gonna do, go streaking through London?” 

“Don’t make me out to be the bad guy, Dean!” Hermione snapped. Harry rolled his eyes, but nobody seemed to have noticed. “I’m looking out for him. Something which I hope you take into consideration,” she added suddenly, whipping around to look at Harry with blazing eyes. “Getting broken up with was a direct consequence of the way you’ve been acting and you know it.” 

“Yeah, well, you know what?” said Harry tightly, standing up from the table. “I’m only twenty-three fucking years old, Hermione. I spent eleven years in a cupboard under some stairs and the next seven working up to the task of killing an evil fucking maniac, so guess what? If I feel like acting like a teenager, then I’m gonna act like a bloody teenager, all right?” 

“Harry,” Ron said stiffly, standing up as well and dropping a protective arm across Hermione’s shoulders. “Slow down, mate.” 

Hermione, for her part, looked completely gobsmacked and even more horrified; a pinch of guilt settled in Harry’s stomach immediately and he let out a little sigh, thumb and forefinger lifting to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Look, I’m sorry, Hermione — I just … really need you to lay off me for a bit. It’s a bloody pain in the arse being hounded by reporters and having my life splashed across the news for everybody to judge at their own fucking leisure. It's worse than ever with the Cup around the corner.” He paused, saw Hermione’s lower lip wobbling precariously, and sighed. “I’m sorry, ‘Mione. Really. It’s not your fault I’m on edge.” 

“It’s all right, Harry,” she said softly. One of her small hands found his arm and squeezed. “I … well, we can talk tomorrow. Go on and get another drink.”

He flashed her a grateful smile and, not needing to be told twice, headed off towards the bar.

Malfoy’s back was to Harry, facing the bloke he’d come in with; he looked positively edible in a tight pair of trousers that clung to his arse perfectly, and his date seemed to be well aware of this, for there was a hungry look in his eyes. Harry was a little surprised by the surge of irrational possessiveness this created, but only a little. 

Three beers in and having only that afternoon been reminded of the sort of passion Malfoy could inspire in him, Harry thought it was actually rather unsurprising he should feel jealous of anybody else commanding the blond’s attention.

When he got to the bar, Harry ordered loudly enough that Malfoy would hear, and on cue he spun around. Harry laughed delightedly even as his groin tightened.

“Brilliant,” Malfoy sneered, sizing Harry up with narrowed eyes. “Front row seats to watch you make an embarrassment of yourself once again, Potter. I’ll just get a letter ready to send to Fancourt, shall I? He’ll be devastated — I know for a fact he was looking forward to wanking himself raw at the sight of you on your broomstick next week.”

“Are we talking about Fancourt or you, Malfoy?” Harry said pleasantly. Malfoy scoffed loudly, his eyes going impossibly wide. He had turned to fully face Harry now, having apparently forgotten the bloke standing behind him. “Because Fancourt has kids; meanwhile, you were blushing like a schoolgirl at the thought of me eating you out today, so …” 

“Potter!” Malfoy screeched. The blush had returned, and Harry barely managed to keep from punching the air in triumph. God but Malfoy looked good like that. His date was scowling deeply now, but Malfoy still did not turn back to him. “You’re an uncivilized fucking brute.” 

“You’re blushing again, Malfoy.”

Malfoy spluttered, and the flush deepened prettily.

“Erm — Draco?”

Malfoy turned a withering glare on his date, who shrank back in surprise. “I’m in the middle of a fucking conversation, Connor,” he said hotly. Harry didn’t bother hiding his laugh.

“Well excuse the fuck out of me!” Connor scoffed. “We’re supposed to be on a date, are we not?” 

“Meaning what?” said Malfoy, sneering. “I can’t talk to anyone but you? Merlin help me if that’s the case.”

Connor looked to be somewhere right in the middle of bewildered and angry. 

“I’ll just bloody leave then, shall I?! Since you’d so much rather flirt blatantly with Harry fucking Potter in front of me!”

“Flirt?!” Draco screeched. The barkeeper set Harry’s beer down in front of him — Harry took it with a little nod and a smile and leaned back against the bar to watch Malfoy ream into his date with an expression of polite interest and his free hand stuffed casually into his jeans’ pocket. “Don’t be an idiot, Connor. First of all, I came here with you tonight because you asked me out four separate times and finally wore me down like some useless, lumbering moron. Second, that was fighting, not flirting, halfwit, but it’s no wonder you can’t tell the difference. And third, even if I were flirting with Potter, I hardly think it’s within your jurisdiction to get upset about it, so you can shove your indignant little tirade right up your arse, Connor.”

Wide-eyed and dazed-looking, Connor seemed unable to form speech for a moment. Harry took this opportunity to chime in.

“If I were you, I’d hightail it out of here,” he suggested mildly. 

Malfoy glared at him. “You’re next, Potter.”

“And I’m beside myself with enthusiasm, Malfoy, believe me.” 

With another scoff and a resentful sweep of Malfoy’s body, Connor slammed his drink down on the bar and stalked away. 

“Was that completely necessary, Potter?” Malfoy said waspishly.

“Me?!” Harry laughed incredulously. “The hell did I do?!”

“You stood there like an arrogant toerag!” 

This gave Harry pause; he blinked rather owlishly at Malfoy, who spotted the look and scowled. 

“As vapid as ever, aren’t you, Potter?” he said. But Harry wasn’t really listening; a smile was coming over his face, for a memory had surfaced — or rather a memory of a memory. At one time, it had caused him greatest despair to know what his mum had once thought of his dad, but as he’d gotten older, and as he’d learned how little black-and-white there was to the world, he’d grown rather fond of knowing his parents had overcome a history of … not getting along.

His mother had once referred to his father as an arrogant toerag — Harry could recall it perfectly now, it had been one of Snape’s memories, he and Lily in their fifth year at Hogwarts.

I know James Potter’s an arrogant toerag, she’d said. You don’t have to tell me that.

He didn’t know why it should feel so delightful that Malfoy had unwittingly described him the exact same way Lily Evans had once described James Potter. It just did.

“Malfoy, d’you wanna have a cigarette with me?” he asked suddenly. Malfoy blinked several times in succession.

“What?” he said finally.

“A cigarette. Do you want to have one. With me.” 

“Wh —” he started, and then broke off, looking irritated and a little bit interested, although Malfoy probably didn’t intend for him to see that last bit. “A cigarette?” 

“Yes. With me. I don’t know how else to explain it, Malfoy.” 

“Don’t be a smartarse, Potter,” he snapped. Harry grinned. “Fine … since you’ve done away with my date for the night anyhow. Lead the way, then.”

Harry drained the rest of his beer and gestured towards the door with his head. He pulled a pack of Marlboros out of his back pocket and waved it at Hermione, who had spotted him and Malfoy from across the pub and looked puzzled. She looked like she very much wanted to follow him and ask what was going on, so he was relieved when she didn’t get out of her chair or alert anybody else at the table to what was going on.

He and Malfoy walked to the edge of the building, where a very thin alley divorced it from an overflowing diner. Pulling two cigarettes out, he placed both between his lips, used a Muggle lighter to spark the ends, and then handed one over. Malfoy took it with a strange, indecipherable expression on his face. 

“What’s that look?” Harry half-laughed, cigarette between his thumb and first finger as he took a long drag. 

“Nothing,” Malfoy insisted too quickly. His cheeks reddened, and Harry knew he’d realized how it had sounded. “You’re being irritatingly charming.” 

“Aw, you’re just saying that, Malfoy.”

Malfoy scowled. “It was an insult, Potter.”

“How was that an insult?” Harry laughed.

“Because I’m saying you’re not usually charming!”

“Malfoy, you don’t even know me, how can you say what I’m usually like?”

“I’ve known you since we were eleven, moron.�� 

“We’ve spoken three or four times in the last five years.” 

“Exactly — there’s not much to know about you, Potter. You’re all surface-level.”

“Is that why you’ve been blushing around me so prettily all day?” Harry smirked. 

To his credit, Malfoy rolled his eyes rather believably, but the instant color in his cheeks was a dead giveaway. He must have felt it there, because he scowled again.

“Think what you want,” he said, sucking on the end of his cigarette and letting a lazy trail of smoke out from between his full lips. Harry was visited by a sudden, powerful urge to lick inside Malfoy’s mouth and taste the acrid, bitter tobacco on his tongue. “I would never pay you a compliment, Potter — it would give me hives.”

“You know, you’re really rather cute when you’re annoyed with me.”

“I’m not cute, Potter,” Malfoy said tetchily. “And I’m always annoyed with you.” 

Harry leaned one shoulder against the brick wall of the building and flicked away the ash at the end of his cigarette. He said nothing, and watched in amusement as Malfoy began fidgeting under his scrutiny. How had he never noticed before how responsive Malfoy was, how beautifully he reacted to Harry’s relentless teasing? He wondered now how far beneath Malfoy’s shirt that flush had spread. 

“Why did you ask me to come out here with you, Potter?”

Harry considered the question a moment, and then he pushed off the wall and tossed his half-smoked cigarette into the street. Malfoy’s eyebrows drew together. Grinning, Harry plucked the cigarette from Malfoy’s hand as well, cupped his soft cheek with his free one, and without even a suggestion of reluctance leaned in and kissed him hard on the mouth. Malfoy froze, but within seconds he began responding to Harry’s coaxing, drawing his lips apart with a gasp and letting Harry slip his tongue inside. He felt a moan vibrate between them and threw down Malfoy’s cigarette so he could get a hand on his waist instead. 

It tasted bitter from the tobacco and whatever he’d been drinking, but underneath that was the distinctly sweet taste of Malfoy, and it was this that Harry couldn’t get enough of. Their tongues twisted and curled around each other, panting breaths passing frantically between them as they devoured one another. Harry bit down sharply on Malfoy’s pouting lower lip, earning a hiss and a shove in his chest, but Harry held him close and fused their mouths back together impatiently. Malfoy actually whimpered into the kiss, hands fisting in Harry’s worn-out English National League t-shirt.

“Come back to my flat,” Harry said against his jaw, kissing and nipping his way down to Malfoy’s neck now, itching to taste that flushed skin. Malfoy shivered and tightened his fingers; Harry felt sharp nails piercing him through the thin material of his shirt.

“Why?” Malfoy demanded croakily. Harry slipped his hands down from Malfoy’s waist to the swell of his arse and squeezed, pulling their hips together. He could feel Malfoy’s hard cock slide against his own and groaned into the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

“Why the fuck do you think, Malfoy?” he growled. “I can’t eat your arse out here in front of The Red Lion, can I?” 

“You’re very presumptuous, did you know that, Potter?” Malfoy said breathily.

“D’you really want me to back off?” he mumbled into Malfoy’s neck. “Because I will.” 

Malfoy didn’t answer right away; his head tipped back slightly to expose his long, pale throat as it was sucked and licked at, and Harry chuckled against his skin. 

“No,” he said finally, in a weak, helpless sort of voice. “I don’t.”

“Brilliant. Take my hand.” He pulled away and held his palm out, meeting Malfoy’s eyes challengingly with a smirk — after a moment of hesitation Malfoy took it and they spun on the spot, Harry leading him through the unbearably tight pressure of time and space to his flat.

                                                       *  *  *

  He Apparated them directly into his living room, and they weren’t there for more than a few seconds before Malfoy pounced on him.

He laughed delightedly, twining his arms around Malfoy’s slim waist and pulling their bodies flush, hips slotting and cocks rubbing together through their clothing. Malfoy moaned into his mouth, having apparently abandoned any reserve he’d still been holding onto back at the pub.

Harry licked hungrily between his lips, tasting the silky-smooth lining and marveling, somewhere in the back of his mind, at the fact that just this very morning he’d come home to find the living room in a state of utter disrepair — a present from his ex-girlfriend. And now here he was, in the very same room, backing Malfoy up towards a couch which had been slashed to ribbons before Hermione had mended it.

“This is completely moronic,” Malfoy breathed, even as Harry began hurriedly popping the fastenings on his shirt. When his fingers slipped for the third time, he growled low in his throat and simply tore the shirt open, buttons flying haphazardly and landing noisily all across the hardwood floor. “Potter, you fucking barbarian, are you kidding me!”

“First of all,” Harry said lightly, nipping at the corner of Malfoy’s jaw as he pulled the shirt off his bony shoulders, exposing an unearthly amount of gorgeous pale skin. Striped gruesomely across his front were the faded scars from a hex cast long ago in a Hogwarts bathroom. Harry determinedly ignored them for now. “I hardly think moronic is the word to use; second, I’m obviously not kidding, and if you promise to stop whingeing long enough for me to get my mouth on you, I’ll repair the bloody shirt for you later.”

“As if I’d trust you to handle silk —” Malfoy started, but he cut off with a beautiful little gasp when Harry cupped him through his trousers, squeezing lightly around the outline of his cock.

“Malfoy?” Harry said into his ear, stroking him slowly, nowhere near enough. Malfoy whimpered, hands lifting helplessly to Harry’s shoulders and digging his nails in. “Shut up.”

And finally, Malfoy did.

Harry kissed him soundly, sucking at his lips and biting teasingly at the lower one, a vivid shock of heat coiling his belly tighter when Malfoy started fingering at the hem of his tee and then lifted it over his head. Those delicate, slightly cold hands immediately started mapping out his hard torso, but Harry didn’t give him long to explore before he was pressing Malfoy back onto the couch and falling to his knees between his legs.

Malfoy arched up obediently to let Harry drag his trousers and pants down his long, slender legs, and at the sight of his stiff, leaking cock curved up against his tight stomach, dribbling pre-come onto the sparse trail of fine blond hair leading down from his navel, Harry felt a little bit of his sanity drain away.

“Shit, Malfoy, you look so fucking good.” He lifted Malfoy’s legs under the thighs, propping them securely over his shoulders and using his thumbs to spread his arse immodestly, the sight of his tight, pink little pucker making Harry’s cock throb painfully where it was still trapped in his denims. He leaned forward and breathed hotly across it, in reaction to which he felt a full-body shudder move through Malfoy’s willowy frame.

“Potter,” he moaned weakly, shifting his hips like he was trying to get Harry’s mouth on him faster. “This is … this is …”

“Long overdue?” Harry supplied cheekily; he used the pads of his thumbs to stretch Malfoy’s hole just barely, too tight to open him up much more than that. Malfoy made a high keening noise that brought a satisfied smirk to Harry’s face.

“I was going to say absurd.”

Harry snorted but didn’t reply — instead, he passed the flat of his tongue hard across Malfoy’s clenching hole, cock twitching at the sharp, musky taste of him. He groaned and tightened his grip on the fleshy globes of Malfoy’s perfect arse, holding him open and prising his hole as far open as he could. He used the tip of his tongue to trace around the rim and had to redouble his efforts when Malfoy bucked against his face.

He took his time, ignoring his fattening cock in favour of paying his full attention to working Malfoy’s dusky hole open with his mouth. He stabbed the pointed tip of his tongue shallowly inside, dipping slowly, methodically in and out, only stopping long enough to place a glob of spit onto his twitching pucker and then work it inside with his tongue. Malfoy let out a wrecked sob that went straight to Harry’s cock.

“Don’t touch yourself,” Harry snapped, having seen Malfoy’s hand snaking down to his prick, slim fingers an inch away when Harry spoke. “Keep your hands where I can see them, Malfoy, or I’ll stop.”

It appeared to cost Malfoy a great deal to comply, but the fact that he did made Harry feel dizzy with lust. His cheeks were filled with a pretty pink color and some of his golden blond hair had fallen in his face, giving him the appearance of some beautifully-debauched angel, one which Harry was frantic to continue tearing apart.

He pushed in farther this time, dropping his jaw open and pressing his tongue as deeply inside as it could go. He felt Malfoy clenching spasmodically around the wet muscle as he fucked him with it, his hands now gripping his thighs both to assist in holding himself open, and because Harry could see them there. Saliva dripped copiously out of the corners of his mouth and slicked Malfoy’s arse, making the slide easier and loosening him by degrees.

“Fuck … Potter, if you don’t stop I’m gonna — god, I’m gonna come …” The last word was elongated into a devastating moan. Harry’s fingers dug into the meat of his arse but he pulled himself back, swiping a thumb across the loosened hole and rudely dipping it inside, all the way to the knuckle, causing Malfoy to buck and cry out.

“Stop moving,” Harry said, mild yet brooking no argument. Malfoy let his head fall against the back of the couch, chest heaving, eyes shut, golden lashes brushing his effeminately high cheekbones. He looked like he was praying for patience. Watching him closely, Harry pulled his thumb out and replaced it with his middle finger, gliding it in easily through the wetness he’d put there. Malfoy keened but stayed still. “You’re doing so good,” Harry breathed, stuffing a second finger in beside the first and placing a wet kiss to the inside of Malfoy’s thigh.

He built up a rhythm with two fingers, occasionally leaning in to add more spit and ease the friction. Malfoy gasped and moaned beautifully each time Harry brushed deliberately across the sensitive little nub of his prostate, making sure to give it a firm rub on every third or fourth stroke, keeping Malfoy at the very edge of an orgasm.

“Potter!” he sobbed out when Harry squeezed in a third finger and only sped his pace up further. “I’m serious, if you don’t stop I’m gonna —”

“Good,” Harry bit out, slamming his fingers into Malfoy’s arse with brutal enthusiasm, reveling in the slick squelching noises they made. Malfoy’s prick was bobbing helplessly, untouched, smearing pre-come across his hard belly with nothing to rut against but air. “Come for me, then. Go on.”

Harry looped an arm around Malfoy’s thigh, using the leverage to hold him down, and stilled his fingers deep inside his arse, rubbing relentlessly against his prostate. Malfoy’s back tried to arch off the couch only to be held in place by Harry, a moan ripping savagely from his throat as his body convulsed through what looked like an immensely powerful orgasm, ropes of come shooting out of his twitching prick and landing on his chest and his chin. Harry pumped his fingers through it, slowing down as Malfoy’s body first loosened and then began trembling.

“S-stop, please, stop,” he gasped, trying to fumble away from Harry, but Harry continued to hold him down, moving his fingers leisurely through Malfoy’s still-clenching hole. He sobbed weakly, the muscles in his stomach fluttering visibly beneath the skin.

“Did you just say please?” Harry smirked. Malfoy scoffed feebly and Harry finally pulled his fingers out. He got to his feet and bent over him, brushing their lips together.

“Fuck off, Potter.”

Harry laughed against his mouth. “It’s terrible manners to cuss at somebody who’s just given you an orgasm.”

“Have I told you how much I hate you?”

“Not recently, no,” Harry said, kissing him again. Malfoy lifted his neck into it eagerly. “I gathered as much, though,” he added, smiling and pulling back. “Get up on your knees and turn around for me.”

Malfoy let out a tiny huffing breath that seemed as though it was meant to convey annoyance but really just sounded adorable. Harry grinned dopily to himself as Malfoy lowered his legs and shifted onto his knees, turning to face the back of the couch and tentatively resting his hands on it.

“You’re unreal,” Harry said reverently, leaning over him to sweep some of the hair away from the back of his neck and press a kiss to the warm skin there. Malfoy mewled and arched back into him, but Harry stopped him with a firm hand on his lower back.

His cock was painfully hard at this point, and it was with an audible groan of relief that Harry finally pulled it out of the confines of his jeans and divested himself of the rest of his clothing, wandlessly conjuring lube onto his pulsing shaft and stroking the length of it several times before stopping himself. Malfoy, he saw, was looking over his shoulder, eyes wide and rosy lips parted as he watched, the pink flush of his cheeks deepening to a hearty red that made him look much younger.

“Jesus, Potter,” he exhaled, a whiny quality to it that made Harry’s cock twitch in his hand. “What the fuck.”

In spite of himself, Harry laughed as he grabbed Malfoy’s arse again and spread his cheeks, pushing his cock between them slickly.

“You couldn’t just be the bloody Chosen One, could you?” Malfoy said weakly, hands gripping hard at the back of the couch when Harry gripped the base of his straining cock and lined it up with Malfoy’s loosened rim. “Couldn’t just be sodding Boy Who Lived. You had to have a massive prick too, didn’t you?”

Instead of responding to this, Harry tightened his hold on Malfoy’s hip with one hand, and with the other guided his thick length past the twitching muscle of his hole. Malfoy let out a wrecked moan as Harry sank into him, slow but steady, not stopping until every last inch was being relentlessly squeezed by Malfoy’s sinfully tight walls. His pale hands were gripping the back of the sofa so hard they lost what little colour had been there in the first place.

“Shit,” Malfoy hissed, even as he pushed his hips back, forcing Harry’s cock deeper. “Shit, shit, shit …”

“That good?” Harry laughed, bending forwards to press a series of wet kisses between Malfoy’s sharp shoulder blades. “Fuck, you feel fantastic. How are you so tight?”

“Because I’m not a slag, Potter.”

Harry pulled out slowly and then rammed back inside, wrenching a gut-twistingly erotic gasp out of the slim blond beneath him.

“Are you insinuating that I am a slag?” Harry asked casually. He’d stopped moving, buried to the hilt inside of Malfoy’s arse; he could feel Malfoy shivering, and without really knowing why he was doing it, he found himself stroking his fingers soothingly down Malfoy’s sides. Or perhaps worshipfully was a better word.

“Yes,” said Malfoy, though the biting sarcasm was lost amongst the trembling of his voice. “That is exactly what I’m insinuating. Now do me a fucking favour and start moving, you utterly incorrigible twat.”

Grinning broadly, Harry slid his fingers through the back of Malfoy’s hair and gripped hard, pulling his head back so his throat was bared vulnerably. It was a devastatingly appealing sight to behold. He could see Malfoy’s eyes widen, could even feel his breathing increase again, but didn’t let go.

“Do you think demanding things is going to work out for you right now?” Harry whispered, leaning over his body and letting the heat of his breath ghost across the side of Malfoy’s neck. “Because from where I’m standing, you have very little leverage at the moment, kitten.”

“Fuck you, Potter!” It came out as more of a whine than anything else. Malfoy must have been aware of this, because he let out a shuddering breath. “Fuck, just … fuck me already!”

“Can you say please again? I quite liked the sound of it before.”

“Who the fuck are you?!” Malfoy ground out. He tried to thrust his hips back again, but Harry held him steady with the hand not tangled up in his hair. “Just move your cock!”

“That didn’t sound like a ‘please’,” Harry said lightly, and for good measure rocked his hips, knowing by the way Malfoy shuddered that his cock had passed across his prostate. “Come on, kitten … it’s not hard. Just say it, and I’ll fuck you stupid.”

“Stop calling me that!” But again, Malfoy’s words came out as more of a whine than anything really forceful or commanding. Harry let go of his hair and instead moved his hand so his fingers were wrapped gently around Malfoy’s throat; not tightly enough to feel pressure, but firm enough so it would be impossible not to imagine what the pressure would have felt like. To his utter delight, Malfoy responded to this beautifully, arching his back and digging his fingers deeper into the couch.

“Say it,” Harry breathed into his ear. Malfoy whimpered. “I know you wanna come again. I’ll make it so good for you. Just say it.”

He tightened his fingers minimally and felt Malfoy’s Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed.

“Please,” he rasped.

“Please what?”

Malfoy made a sound halfway between a moan and a garbled wail. “Fuck me, you bastard! Please, please fuck me!”

Grinning in triumph and with a powerful surge of possessiveness making his spine tingle, Harry let go of Malfoy’s throat, gripped his hips hard, and started pounding into him with little abandon. Malfoy’s hands scrabbled frantically before gaining purchase and he looked to be holding on for dear life as Harry incessantly pulled out and slammed back in, ceaselessly burying his aching cock in Malfoy’s perfect arse with a reckless sort of urgency. The slick, wet squelching sounds of the lube and Harry’s own pre-come with each devastating thrust only heightened the whole experience.

Malfoy was making the most delicious gasping sounds each time Harry pounded into him, his cock hard again and beading pre-come at the tip. He seemed to have figured out that Harry wasn’t going to let him touch himself, because he wasn’t even trying. At the edge of his own orgasm, Harry waited until he felt Malfoy start shuddering and shaking beneath him to pull out all the way. This earned him a high, mewling sound of protest out of the blond.

“What the fuck!” Malfoy sobbed, pressing his forehead into the couch as his body shook. Harry could feel his heart slamming into his ribs and took several deep breaths, sweat dripping down his back.

“Turn over,” he said a bit breathlessly. Malfoy looked over his shoulder and Harry saw that his full, sensual lips were bitten raw.

“What the fuck are you talking about?! Why did you stop, I was … I was so fucking close!”

Huffing out an impatient breath, Harry manhandled Malfoy onto his back, lengthwise across the couch, and climbed on top of him, between his spread thighs. Their cocks slid together when Harry bent over him, crushing their mouths together into a searing kiss that Malfoy instantly deepened with his tongue.

“I can’t fucking stand you,” Malfoy breathed when he pulled away for air, and even as he said it his fingers were twisting around the black mess of hair at the back of Harry’s head, tugging lightly. Harry chuckled and nipped at his jaw, moving his hips, dragging their pricks together wetly.

“Ask me how much I care.” Harry licked a broad stripe up the side of Malfoy’s neck and shifted his hips, using one hand to line himself up again and start pushing inside that unbearably tight heat.

“There’s not much you do care about these days, is there, Potter?” Malfoy said faintly, voice breaking as he was stuffed full once again. His back arched up off the sofa, hands coming around to Harry’s back where his nails dug in sharply. Harry hissed at the pain.

“Sure there is,” he said tightly, bottoming out and rocking his hips, biting his lip to hide a grin when Malfoy gasped, knowing he’d found his prostate again. “They’re just not the things everybody expects me to care about.”

He started up a tedious rhythm, pressing in deep and then pulling out just as slow, savouring every sensation, every little nuance as Malfoy opened up for him and let some of his uptight façade fade away. His eyes kept fluttering shut despite an obvious effort not to let that happen, something which tugged strangely at Harry’s chest. His nails dug into Harry’s back each time his prostate was grazed.

“Fuck …” Malfoy whimpered after several minutes of this, moving his hips impatiently and bringing his hands around to Harry’s chest, digging his nails in there instead. “God, Potter, I’m close again … faster, please …” The bratty, demanding quality had almost entirely disappeared from his voice, leaving him sounding breathless and desperate and fuck, the sound of it went straight to Harry’s cock.

“I’ve got you,” he said gruffly, losing his own teasing tone as well, the orgasm he’d only temporarily pulled back the reigns on creeping up again with a vengeance. Malfoy’s slender cock was straining between them, smearing their bellies with slick, and Harry finally wrapped a hand around it, tearing a broken cry out of Malfoy’s swollen pink mouth. He dragged the foreskin down, exposing the sensitive, reddened head, and flicked his thumb across it. Malfoy’s hips bucked and his nails dug into Harry’s skin harder.

“Don’t stop,” Malfoy whimpered frantically, and this time, Harry had no plans to. He increased the speed of his thrusts and tugged relentlessly at Malfoy’s throbbing, weeping prick. “Don’t stop, oh my god, I’m coming, d-don’t stop!” Indeed, the words had barely left his mouth when Harry felt his walls clenching down around his cock, body tense and jerking as Harry worked him through his second orgasm, sharp nails drawing blood where they’d latched onto his biceps. It took only moments for Harry to tip over the edge as well, burying his face in Malfoy’s neck as his cock pulsed and throbbed and spilled out what seemed to be an endless amount of come into Malfoy’s clenching hole. It was leaking out around him as he slowed, rocking his hips each time he bottomed out, and finally stopping altogether even as his heart continued to throw itself feverishly against the walls of his ribcage.

He lifted his head when he’d gotten some semblance of a normal breathing rhythm back and looked down at an oddly open-faced Malfoy, whose grey eyes were, for the first time in memory, not cold and calculating but bright with wonder.

“That was … something,” he said, and Harry laughed before he’d even realized he was going to.

“Something,” he echoed, nodding his head and letting his eyes roam freely across this new Malfoy’s face. “Yeah. Definitely something.” He paused, and then leaned down slowly to kiss him again, glad when he met no resistance. It was messy and unhurried and utterly opposite to any other kiss they’d shared so far tonight. When he pulled away, he felt something essential shift between them, and he couldn’t find the necessary will power to stop himself asking, “D’you wanna smoke a joint with me?”

He expected scoffing at the very least, and so was extremely surprised when he received nothing worse than a lifted eyebrow.

“You’re not serious?” Malfoy drawled.

“Er — I think I am, actually, yeah. It’s great after sex, and I’d really like to see you high.”

“Muggle drugs, Potter?” Malfoy lilted. “Really? You’re supposed to be refraining from doing anything stupid until the Cup is over.”

“C’mon, Malfoy, just this once? It feels great, I promise. I won’t tell anyone.”

Malfoy scoffed. “I should hope you wouldn’t. I’ll hex your bollocks off if you tell anyone about this, either.”

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it. So is that a yes?”

Malfoy paused, looking up at him uncertainly, and finally said, “How long does it last?”

“Dunno, like … couple hours, I guess. Definitely no more than that.”

Another, longer pause. “Fine,” Malfoy said suddenly, and Harry nearly whooped with enthusiasm. He could plainly see Malfoy holding back a smirk even as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

After Vanishing their messes, Harry pulled nothing more than his pants back on and waited with a smirk on his face as Malfoy tried to put his shirt on as well, only to have Harry grab his hand and pull him away.

“I’m cold, Potter!” he said as he was dragged to Harry’s bedroom. Harry pulled a jumper out of his dresser and tossed it to him. “What is this?” Malfoy asked, and Harry looked over his shoulder to see him sneering at the Nirvana logo on the front.

“Muggle band,” he explained. He pulled a glass jar from the back of his closet and brought it over to the bed. “You can sit down, you know.”

Malfoy did so hesitantly, his eyes fixed on the jar Harry had just opened.

“What’s that called again?”

“Weed,” said Harry, pulling an already-rolled joint out and closing it back up to set on his bedside table. “It’s really not a big deal. Muggles have got some really nasty shit they do; this stuff is harmless.”

“So it’s legal, then?” Malfoy asked sceptically.

 “Well … no, but —”

“Didn’t think so,” he said airily, but Harry definitely thought he could see a smirk lurking beneath the arrogance. “You’ll never change, Potter. If there’s a rule, you’ll find it and break it.”

“Yes, well, all the fun things are against the rules, aren’t they?” He crossed the bed to where Malfoy was sitting and held the joint up for him to see. “Look, it’s like a cigarette, except it’s got weed in it instead of tobacco. Tastes better, too.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He narrowed his eyes at it suspiciously. “What does it feel like?”

Harry stuck it between his lips, grabbed a green Muggle lighter off the nightstand, and sparked the end to life with a few deep puffs. He held it in several seconds and then blew it out in a hazy cloud.

“It, er — feels sort of fuzzy, I guess?” he said thickly, holding it out for Malfoy to take. “Try not to take too big a hit, though. It’ll burn your throat first couple times.”

Malfoy took it daintily between his thumb and first finger and held it to his lips. Harry knew immediately that warning him had been the wrong thing to do, because Malfoy had clearly taken it as a challenge and sucked in a deep breath that immediately came back out as a hacking cough. Trying his best not to laugh too loudly, he Conjured water into an empty glass and handed it over.

“I told you that would happen,” he said, grabbing the joint and taking another hit for himself while Malfoy soothed his throat and came down from the fit.

“That’s fucking bollocks,” Malfoy rasped, and snatched the joint to try it again.

It took only fifteen minutes for Malfoy to wind up on his side, cheek pressed into a pillow, eyes bloodshot and half-lidded. They’d smoked through the whole joint and Harry felt as pleasantly buzzed as Malfoy looked.

“You have really soft pillows, Potter,” Malfoy sighed, nuzzling his nose into it briefly and then letting out a highly contented sigh. Harry smiled and scooted closer, tangling their legs together and even boldly dropping an arm across Malfoy’s waist. Malfoy didn’t seem to mind one bit. “It’s like … a cloud or something. Did you Charm them to feel like clouds?”

“No, you’re just really fucking high,” Harry laughed.

“Oh.” Malfoy wrinkled his nose, and then he did something Harry couldn’t have anticipated: he moved even closer, and kissed Harry right on the mouth. “I can’t believe we fucked.”

“I dunno,” Harry mused, brushing a piece of silky hair away from Draco’s face. “I can sort of believe it. I mean, we were eventually gonna either fuck or kill each other, don’t you think?”

“I think you’re too charming to be the real Harry Potter.”

Harry snorted. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“Take it however you want, Potter,” Malfoy saw around a yawn. He’d begun rubbing his foot against Harry’s leg. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he said. “I reserve the right not to answer, though.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but it was half-hearted. “When you said earlier that you don’t care about the things people expect you to care about … what did you mean by that?”

He hadn’t been expecting that, and for a moment it gave Harry pause. He dipped his fingers beneath the Nirvana jumper and trailed them lazily across the warm skin of Malfoy’s back.

“Just … the whole thing, I guess,” he said finally. “It’s like they expected me to keep being the fucking Chosen One even after the bloody thing I was chosen for is done. I mean, look, I’d fight Voldemort a hundred more times if that was what I had to do, but that doesn’t mean I wanna spend my life being everyone’s personal goddamn hero.  I just want a fucking break, y’know? They want me at all these stupid fucking Ministry functions just because it gets people interested when they know I’m there.”

“Typical,” Malfoy drawled.

“Yeah, it is bloody typical. Fancourt would probably pay me to settle down with some bird and start a family. Every interview I’m forced into, that’s the question: ‘When are you getting married?’ and ‘Will you be an Auror when you stop playing Quidditch?’ and ‘How many kids do you want?’ It’s never-fucking-ending. I’m only twenty-three, I mean, fuck. Give me a fucking minute to enjoy the first time I’ve ever been able to do whatever the hell I want, you know?”

He realized suddenly that he’d worked himself up and let out a long, slow breath. His head was still fuzzy, however, and it wasn’t difficult to bring himself back down. Especially not with a high, sleepy-looking Malfoy right there, curled into him.

“So was this some sort of rebellious act, then?” Malfoy asked. There was something unreadable in his eyes when he said it. “Bringing me back to your flat and fucking me?”

“No,” he said at once, studying Malfoy’s pretty face and delicate features while something utterly familiar but long since felt began growing in his chest and making it tight. “You are … wonderfully unexpected, Draco.” 

The use of Malfoy’s first name was a tangible presence between them, especially potent when their eyes met. Harry tried his hardest to ascertain what was going on in his head but found it impossible to read his expression.

“What do you care about, then?” Malfoy said; it could have been a deflection, but Harry fancied there was a note of genuine curiosity in his voice.

“I dunno … enjoying myself?” He shrugged one shoulder as best he could when he was lying on his side. “Just … living, y’know? Having fun. It’s why I decided to play Quidditch instead of becoming an Auror. I guess maybe one day I might do that, but I doubt it.”

“What’s ‘one day’?”

Harry heaved a sigh and removed his hand from Malfoy’s back, using the pad of his thumb to drag down that bitten lower lip he’d been so focused on all night. Malfoy nipped lightly at the tip, bringing a fond smile to Harry’s face.

“No idea,” he said. “I’m only twenty-three. I’ve got time to figure it out.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.” Malfoy yawned again, the fingers of one hand idly tracing a scar he’d found on Harry’s chest. “As long as you win us the Cup, you have my permission to make an arse of yourself however you see fit.”

“And that’s all I need, is it?” Harry said, smiling helplessly. “Your permission?”

“If we’re going to continue shagging, then yes.”

Harry’s chest seemed to expand and he knew that if he could look at himself, he’d see a hopeless tenderness in his eyes as he raked them over Malfoy’s face. “And are we? Going to continue doing this?”

For the first time tonight, Harry saw a hint of something uncertain, even anxious, appear on Malfoy’s face.

“Only if you want to,” he said quietly.

Without hesitation, Harry leaned in and kissed him; he felt Malfoy smile into it and a hurricane of butterflies erupted in his stomach.

“I definitely, definitely want to.”

Malfoy nodded, clearly trying to suppress his grin. “You know, Potter, those Muggle drugs are useless.”

“Why do you say that?” Harry laughed.

“Because all it’s done is make me tired.”

“And adorable,” Harry added, smoothing a thumb across one pink cheek. “Really adorable.”

“I’m always adorable, Potter. Don’t be stupid.”

With that, his grey eyes disappeared behind his lids, and Harry felt his heart must surely burst right out of his chest when Malfoy tucked his head under Harry’s chin, let out a deep, satisfied-sounding breath, and went to sleep.

                                                      *  *  *

  He managed to make it all the way to the day of the World Cup without any bad press, although Harry thought this probably had something to do with the amount of time he and Malfoy spent in his bedroom. The ease with which they fell into a comfortable routine of being around each other might have been eerie had it not felt so utterly, perfectly natural.

True to his word, he didn’t say anything even to Ron and Hermione. It didn’t bother him, mostly because his evenings spent shagging Malfoy breathless had brought him around to the conclusion that he liked him — quite a lot, in fact — and had every intention of making him his boyfriend before August was over. It was a refreshing feeling, being so into somebody, for he realized now that he hadn’t felt this way since he had dated Ginny. The fact that it should be Malfoy to make him feel this way again became less surprising the more he thought about it and the more time they spent in each other’s company.

On the day of the match, there wasn’t much time to see one another. Malfoy was up to his ears with work to do and Harry was busy talking his team through their repertoire of plays one last time. However, just ten minutes before the crowds were due to be let into the stadium, Malfoy pulled him away under the guise of needing to speak with him; they went up to the top box, empty for now, and Harry wasted no time at all shoving his tongue inside that sweet-tasting mouth.

He was absolutely, unequivocally convinced that it gave him his edge during the game, and when they won by a landslide (Harry catching the Snitch forty-five minutes in, when his team was down twenty points), he screamed himself hoarse sixty feet in the air with the weakly-fluttering Snitch clasped tight in his fist and his head full of Malfoy.

One of England’s Chasers, Nerissa Murray, hosted a celebration at the enormous flat she shared with her girlfriend, and it was here that Harry was finally able to get Malfoy alone. 

The flat was on the twenty-fifth floor of a building in the heart of London; it was nearing midnight when Harry, clutching his third beer, pulled Malfoy away from a bloke who was attempting to chat him up and out onto the balcony. 

The view was stunning, and yet all Harry found himself looking at was Malfoy.

“So,” Malfoy said airily, leaning back against the railing and looking far too pretty to be allowed, “Defeater of Dark Lords and now World-Famous Quidditch Star to boot. Not bad, Potter. Not bad at all. You might even say I’m impressed.” 

“Oh yeah?” Harry laughed, digging his pack of smokes out of his back pocket and handing one to Malfoy. As was his wont, he used his green Muggle lighter to spark the end of it before lighting his own. “That’s my lifelong goal realized, then.”

“You’re very funny.”

“That means a lot coming from you, Malfoy,” Harry teased, blowing out a long stream of smoke and then kissing his soft cheek. “I have something for you, by the way.” He pulled the Snitch from the game out of his jumper and pressed it into Malfoy’s free hand.

“What — the Snitch? Potter, this is … this is your World Cup Snitch, don’t be ridiculous. It’s a trophy in and of itself.”

“Yeah, well … I figure, you know, you’ve never got to touch one before, have you? Seeing as I always beat you to it in school.”

"Oh, ha bloody ha," Malfoy scoffed and elbowed Harry hard in the ribs. “Twat,” he added, but when he tried to hand it back, Harry closed his hand around it again.

“I’m taking the piss, Malfoy,” he chuckled. “Really, I want you to have it.”

“Why?”

“Because I fancy you, you great bloody git. Fuck, why do you have to be so difficult all the time?”

Malfoy’s jaw hung open and there was a suspicious look in his eyes that couldn’t entirely hide the burgeoning hopefulness Harry saw underneath. It made him feel warm all over and he had to use a massive amount of willpower to stop from kissing him again.

“Remember you said if I won the Cup for England I’d have your permission to make an arse of myself however I wanted?” he said, tapping some ash off his cigarette over the railing. Malfoy merely lifted an eyebrow.

“I … might recall having said something of that nature. However, I was indisposed thanks to your stupid Muggle drugs, so I can’t be held accountable for any claims I made.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry said pleasantly. “You said it, and I caught the Snitch that won us the game. Now I’m going to exercise my right to make an arse of myself.”

“And what is it, exactly, you plan on doing?” Malfoy drawled.

“I was thinking I’d ask you on a date, for starters.” He grinned widely when once again blatant shock registered on Malfoy’s face. “Maybe see if you wanted to do dinner tomorrow night after you’re done with work. Go from there, see what happens.”

“This is arse-backwards, Potter!” Malfoy hissed, voice low to avoid anyone inside hearing them (although it was doubtful over the blaring music). Fist still clutched around the Snitch, he whacked the back of his hand into Harry’s shoulder. “You can’t just fuck me for a week straight and then ask me on a date!”

“Well, why the hell not?” Harry retorted. “Never heard you complaining while my cock was up your arse. Besides, I wasn’t supposed to do anything reckless until after the Cup, remember?”

Malfoy opened his mouth like he was going to argue and then seemed to fall short of anything to say. Instead, he smacked Harry’s arm again, harder this time.

“You bloody wanker,” he said, and a moment later he’d crushed their mouths together so hard Harry dropped his cigarette in surprise. He laughed into the kiss and wound his arms around Malfoy’s waist, pulling him close and working his tongue between those ludicrously addictive lips.

“Is that a yes to the date tomorrow?” Harry said against his mouth a minute later, delighting in the little irritated huff Malfoy let out in response.

“You’re very persistent, aren’t you?”

“Only when I’m serious about something,” Harry hummed, and for good measure slid his hands down to Malfoy’s arse and squeezed. He leaned forwards again and brushed their lips together, loving the way he could feel Malfoy shiver in his arms. “C’mon … say yes. I’d really like to take you out, Malfoy.”

Malfoy must have dropped his own cigarette as well, because he lifted the hand that wasn’t closed around the Snitch and brushed some of Harry’s fringe away from his forehead, not scowling anymore but not smiling either. He looked contemplative now.

“When you say you fancy me …”

“I mean I really, really like you,” Harry said.

“You said yourself we don’t know each other, Potter. All you’ve done is shag me the last week, you can’t know you like me.”

“Well, that’s why I wanna take you on a date, isn’t it?” Harry pointed out, eyebrows raised. “To get to know you better?”

For a long minute, Malfoy said nothing. Then —

“All right.” He gave a little nod, and Harry broke into a megawatt grin.

“You mean it?”

“Yes, you insufferable, gorgeous prat. I mean it. And you’d better take me somewhere nice, or the deal’s off.”

“Brilliant,” Harry laughed, and nearly lifted Malfoy right off his feet when he kissed him again.

The hell of it was, maybe twenty-three wasn’t going to be so bad, after all.

[profoundnet]

PROFOUNDBOND MEMBER MASTERPOST - APRIL 2018

Header by @pantydean and is available on merch from her redbubble store. You can use all those fancy emojis on our Discord Server!

The Masterpost is open for all creations by ProfoundBond members which are posted in entirety during the month of April.

Member Contributions for April 2018!

Masterpost below the cut.

60r3d0m - @60r3d0m​ - 60r3d0m

The Wedding Night

Summary: When a monster starts targeting newlywed couples, Dean does the logical thing and offers his hand in marriage. Cas accepts.

And it's all going good. Maybe Dean's a little too dedicated to the ruse when he accidentally calls Cas 'sweetheart' in private a couple of times, and maybe he kind of takes it upon himself to be the Best Husband Ever, ushering him around with a hand to the small of his back while uttering a disproportionate amount of praise, but other than that, it's all under control.

But then the monster attacks and Cas doesn't remember anything anymore.

And then there's a snooping innkeeper who makes it impossible to tell Cas about their sham marriage.

And it probably doesn't help that it happens to be their wedding night and Cas is intent on seeing their consummation through.

NSFW

Tags: amnesia, fake/pretend relationship, bed sharing, marriage, dubious consent, first kiss, first time, shower sex, fluff, humour, happy ending

amirosebooks - @amirosebooks - amirosebooks

Forgetting Your Blues

Summary: Dean Jones doesn't know his real name. He woke up on a public park bench a few months back with an empty wallet and a driver's license listing the name Dean Jones with his picture. The name doesn't feel right on his tongue, but he doesn't remember what part is wrong.

The cop who found him in the park got Dean a job in a local diner. The diner feels comfortable to Dean. He understands the rhythm of the place, the ebb and flow of the people and food, even if he's clearly never carried a tray of hot plates in his life. He settles into his new life. He makes new friends. He takes beautiful women and men and people to his bed for comfort on long nights. He has nightmares about blood covering his hands.

Who is he?

Why has no one come looking for him?

What has he done?

Why did he fall apart when he saw a guy wearing a tan trenchcoat?

Tags: Graphic Depictions Of Violence; Castiel/Dean Winchester; minor dean winchester/others; Amnesia; Temporary Character Death; Canonical Character Death; post season 12 episode 23 Fix-It; Getting Together; Fluff and Angst; Fade to black sex; Diners castiel with scruff; dean works in a diner; Openly Bisexual Dean Winchester

Dean's Season 13 Grief

Summary: A look at Dean's grief over Cas with Metallica lyrics

Cryptomoon - @cryptomoon​

Dean x Pie

Summary: Dean dreaming of his beloved.

Tags: Dean Winchester, Pie, Digital Art

Noir!Cas

Summary: Noir!Cas drawn for the Profound Robin round 2 banner.

Tags: Noir, Castiel, Digital Art

envydean - @envydean - hollyblue2

The brightness of the sun will give me just enough

Summary: To bury my love, in the Moondust

- For crypto's birthday

I'm Your Huckleberry

Summary: DEANCAS CREATIONS CHALLENGE

↳ Prompt: 13x06 Tombstone

Tags: 13x06

Moonlit Sky

Summary: They'd been busy on their actual anniversary, so Dean decides to make it up to Castiel.

Tags: Surgeon!Cas, Police Officer!Dean, Established Relationship, Anniversary, cheesy celebrations, Serenading, Domestic Fluff, Fluff

Appreciation

Summary: Over in the corner is Castiel Novak. He’s not been at the school long but today he’s all alone; just last week, Dean was sure he saw him hanging out with Samandriel and Andy but today they’re nowhere to be seen. That is until he looks elsewhere and find them laughing at each other on a different table.

Dean frowns. The guy doesn’t have his bag on him or any food in front of him. It’s far too early in their lunch break for him to have finished already.

Tags: High School AU, Light Angst, Fluff, sharing food, hand holding, First Kiss, Poor!Castiel

Foxymoley - @foxymoley

Trueform!Castiel

Summary: Trueform!Castiel with added tentacles for Soba's benefit. ;-)

Tags: Trueform!Cas, angel, spn, tentacles

Icarusinflight - @candybarrnerd - icarusinflight

trying to keep you

Summary: He reaches out for Dean's wrists, using the grip to pull Dean's hands from his pockets, and up to inspect. As he expected there's still traces of blood on his hands. They’ve been washed, but it's still there, under his nails and in his cuticles.

“Cas—”

“Don't,” Cas interrupts him. He doesn't know what Dean is planning on saying, but knows nothing good can come of it. Cas drags his eyes back up to Dean's face, and this time Dean looks at him, eyes locking on each other. “Just let me take care of you.”

Dean is a man possessed with a goal, the goal to get the colt back, and he'll do whatever it takes to get it.

Cas's only goal is to make sure the man he knows is still there when the dust settles.

NSFW

Tags: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, mentions of interrogation/torture, Praise, Cleaning, cleaning body and soul, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

in sickness or health

Summary: “This means forever,” he tells Dean, “this means in sickness and in health and it means I’ll never leave you, never again.”

A series of snippets in a world where Dean's memory sometimes fails him.

Tags: Amnesia, Memory Loss, Traumatic Brain Injury, sadness abounds, happiness too, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Dean takes a lot of knocks to the head and i think about that a lot

jad - @jadstiel​ - jad

diamond star halo

Summary: They're doing that thing again, where Cas is staring at Dean with the intensity of a dog trying to remind his owner that it's past dinner time. Dean's staring right back like the first one to blink is buying the next round. Sam's aware there's a conversation going on that he isn't privy to and he's used to it, by this point, but it's still *rude.*

"So, as I was saying," Sam tries to interrupt the resounding silence, "if we can just figure out a — "

"Sure," Dean says, and Sam stutters to a halt, because sure *what?* "I mean, yeah. Yes. Dude, you don't even have to ask."

Cas looks like Dean just slapped him in the face, bloodshot eyes comically wide in a *how dare you* or maybe a *are you drunk sort* of way. Sam can empathize.

Tags: literally nothing bad happens, it's all fluff, s11-ish shenanigans, nbd possession, accidental Marriage Proposal, look these things just happen, Dean/Cas Tropefest 5k Mid-Winter Challenge

levi_cas_tho - @levicastho - levi_cas_tho

A Kiss For Good Luck

Summary: “So, you gonna give me a good luck kiss or what?”

It’s clearly one of Dean’s attempts to act like a dick, but once the thought enters Castiel’s mind, he can’t shake it. Castiel has, much to his dismay, developed somewhat of a crush on the other boy. To feel Dean’s lips pressed against his own, even just for a split second, would be… Besides, for all that Dean puts Castiel through, he deserves at least a little payback.

Tags: High school au, Mutual pining, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, tutoring

MsCaptainWincheser - @mscaptainwinchester - rons_pigwidgeon

Lies & Other Word Scrambles

Summary: Castiel must suffer through an office social event after his boss threatens his job if he doesn't attend. Thankfully, a flirtatious 'intern' is there to help.

NSFW

Tags: Escort!Dean, office party, blow jobs

Neonbat666 - @neonbat666 - Neonbat

Must have been a blue moon

Summary: When the world is in shambles, and all hope seems out of their reach, there is only one person Dean turns to. Castiel picks up the pieces every time, even when the shards fracture him in return.

Created for the Deancas Tropefest

NSFW

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester,Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester,Endverse, Angst Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, drug references, A bit of rough play, Hurt and comfort, Porn with plot and feels ,Human Castiel Alternate Universe - ,Croatoan/Endverse, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural)

Nera_Solani - @nera-solani - Nera_Solani

Treading unknown Waters

Summary: When a researcher on mythical creatures goes over board and strands on a desert island, she doesn't expect to get the opportunity to learn more about sirens than anyone ever has.

Turns out, they can be a lot more human than most people think...

Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, desert island, siren Castiel, sailor Dean, shipwrecked, pirates, POV outsider, inspired by the fanfiction “Ensnared”

profound-boning - @profound-boning - profound-boning

Ocean Sized Love

Summary: Cas glances at the clock and acknowledges that he simply doesn’t have time to read and fully appreciate Dean’s letter right now, so he tucks it carefully into his bag in order to bring it home safely. Then, he carefully sorts the rest of the letters and bundles them up for his students to open when they return.

His mind wanders, however, to open seas and a hot sun, to the large ship and fast planes he’s read about so many times. To a crowd of sailors all described lovingly, and to one particular officer who has summarily captured the affections of one elementary school teacher in the Boston suburbs.

Tags:  Castiel (Supernatural) Dean Winchester Balthazar (Supernatural) Gabriel (Supernatural) Minor Characters, Alternate Universe - No supernatural, Alternate Universe – Soulmates, Teacher Castiel, Military, Navy Dean Winchester, Soldier Dean Winchester, POV Castiel, Castiel Has Self-Esteem Issues, Pen Pals, Falling In Love, Meet-Cute, Aquariums, Past Balthazar/Castiel, childhood crush, Zero romantic Balthazar/Cas beyond one kiss

RavensCAT - @ravenscat-tumbler​ - RavensCAT

New Beginnings

Summary: Sam was freaking out. This could very well be the same banshee who took his brother’s hearing. He’s on the floor with his hands covering his ears as tight as he could press. He knows exactly what this monster was capable of.

Banshee’s usually only scream when they predict the deaths of a loved one but this one, this one was not like the others. This banshee seems to have gone rogue.

Tags: Deaf!Dean, Canon, banshee, rogue banshee, Dean & Eileen friendship, American Sign Language, coda 11x11, Fluffy Destiel, Destiel, Saileen, fluffy saileen, hearing loss at young age, Happy Story, minor sadness, Episode: s11e11 Into the Mystic, Post-Episode: s11e11 Into the Mystic, Happy Ending, Loving Castiel, Loving Dean Winchester, Loving Sam ,Winchester, Everyone is loving, Supportive Castiel, Supportive Sam Winchester, Sam & Castiel Friendship, Brotherly Love

saltnhalo - @saltnhalo​ - saltnhalo

Little Blue Dragon

Summary: Dean Winchester may have a reputation for being a skilled craftsman and blacksmith, but his life is just like anyone else’s. He’s over-worked and under-slept, and it’s all because of the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that tells him he’s… forgetting something. Still, he can’t let his weird dreams or errant thoughts get in the way of his work and his love for his craft. The strange feeling goes ignored.

That is, until he meets a man with jewel-blue eyes and an aura of intrigue. Castiel slots into his life in a way that Dean had never thought possible, and Dean grows accustomed to the mysterious man’s visits and brilliant smiles and tales of far-away places.

He’d never known he was missing a piece of himself until he met Castiel, and he thinks that Cas might feel the same way.

Until Castiel disappears from Dean’s life completely.

NSFW

Tags: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Magic, Blacksmith Dean Winchester, Mage Sam Winchester, Creature Castiel, Dragon Castiel, Pining, Soulmates, Minor Violence, Frottage, Dean/Cas Pinefest 2018

A Lesson In Obedience

Summary: Castiel steps in to help relieve Dean's work-related stress. Dean still brings some of his attitude to the table.

NSFW

Tags: TA Dean Winchester, Teacher Dean Winchester, Dom/sub, Sub Dean, Dom Castiel, Dean in Panties, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sex Toys, Butt Plugs, Spanking, bratty dean, Aftercare, Disobeying Orders, Stressed Dean Winchester, BDSM, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings

sternchencas - @sternchencas​ - sternchencas

A Study In Fake

Summary: Although Dean has a job, he's always looking for some extra money, so he's bummed out when he can't take part in a lucrative couples study at the local college. At least until Castiel Novak steps into his life out of nowhere and a throwaway joke turns into a serious relationship. Well, a fake one, but nobody needs to know that, right?

Tags: fake dating, mutual pining, bed sharing, fluff

supernatural9917 - @supernatural9917fic​ -  supernatural9917

Crash and Slow Burn

Summary: Dean Winchester crashes his car and is rescued by Castiel Novak. It's the beginning of a beautiful friendship...

NSFW

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Cassie Robinson/Dean Winchester, Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Meg Masters, Ruby/Sam Winchester, Sarah Blake/Sam Winchester, Daphne Allen/Castiel, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Friends to Lovers, Police Officer Dean, Social Worker Castiel, Drug Addict Sam Winchester, Good Crowley (Supernatural), Slow Burn, Police Officer Benny Lafitte, Police Officer Bobby Singer, car crash, Gabriel Being Gabriel, Bromance to Romance

Do You Need a Stepdad?

Summary: When Claire Novak tweets a picture of her dad cooking, she didn't expect to go viral, or for everyone to be quite so hot for her dad.

Based on a photo prompt.

Tags: Meet-Cute, Twitter, Instagram, based on a prompt, Dad Cas

surlybobbies - @surlybobbies - surleybobbies

Freeze Frame

Summary: Dean's got about two minutes before Cas comes back, which is more than mildly inconvenient because Dean's just found out Cas is in love with him.

Tags: friends to lovers, mutual pining, teacher castiel, minor sam/eileen, photographer castiel

Right Where We Left It

Summary: Flower emergencies didn’t hold off just because the love of your life was the only available florist in town.

(In the wake of Mary's death, Dean comes back to establish his flower shop. Cas avoids him - until he can't.)

Tags: Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Flower Shop AU , Florist Dean Winchester, Returning Home, Reunions, Background Claire Novak, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester

thatpeculiarone - @ilovetodreamx​ - thatpeculiarone

Curtain Call

Summary: Dean always had trouble describing things. However, if he were to describe his life, he would describe it as a performance.

Through the mechanical nature of his routine, to the smiles he forces everyday, his life is one big show.

And with any good show, there is always finale, a grandeur to finish it all.

Even the best performances, have to end at some point.

NSFW

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Mechanic!Dean, Steve!Cas, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, References to Addiction, Suicidal!Dean, Depression.

theaeronaut - @theaeronaut​ - Arronaut

 crooked halo

Summary: castiel lit up by his halo

Tags: castiel, cas, spn, angel

Dandelion Halo

Summary:Castiel's halo of dandelion seeds, starting to blow away

Tags: cas, castiel, spn, i wish for this

Dandelion Man

Summary: i don't even know. he has dandelions in his eyes, it's whatever

Tags: cas, castiel, spn, spn fanart

Dandelion man

Summary: Castiel's wings as drifting dandelion seeds

Tags: cas, castiel, spn, i wish for this

Tender

Summary: Dean and Cas laying in bed cuddling

Tags: cas, castiel, dean, dean winchester, spn, supernatural

Grasp

Summary: Cas and Dean hold each others faces looking very much like they're about to kiss

Tags: cas, castiel, dean, dean winchester, destiel, spn

Collaborations

The Sound of Silence

Author: Destimushi - @destimushi - Destimushi Author: envydean - @envydean - hollyblue2

Summary: It's been weeks since Dean's had pie, and Castiel hopes the diner they're going to tonight will have something to shut up his husband's constant complaining. Sadly, the odds are not in Castiel's favour.

Tags: deaf!Cas, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, distinct lack of pie, Adoption

Iron and Ice

Author: A Diamond - @alxdiamond - A_Diamond Artist: Correlia - @correlia-be​

Link to art

Summary: Dean was so focused on his work that he didn’t notice he had a visitor until he turned to drop the last one into the quenching bath. It was just a customer, and one of his regulars at that, which made his surprised yelp and his half-undressed state both all the more embarrassing.

Castiel looked even more flushed with the heat than Dean felt, the color heavy in his face. Maybe he’d been exerting himself, or perhaps he was more sensitive to hot weather than most people. Either way, it made for quite a contrast against the patch of dark blue scales that covered his right cheek.

Tags: Dean/Cas Tropefest 2018 Mid-Winter 5k, Alternate Universe - Historical Fantasy, Blacksmith Dean Winchester, Dragon Castiel, Daring Rescues, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss

Change of Plans

Author:  envydean - @envydean - hollyblue2 Artist: dragonpressgraphics - dragonpress - pherryt Link to art

Summary: Castiel is grumpy when they get to the motel, and Dean is determined to find out why.

Tags: Fluff, hints of angst, bed sharing, Getting Together, Road Trip

Hand to Mouth

Author: noxlee - @nox-lee - noxlee Artist: uncelestial - @uncelestieldestiel Link to art

Summary: Dean Winchester has been a reckless daredevil since Castiel first met him in the fourth grade. Over the years, Castiel has been reluctantly dragged into all manner of dangerous situations by his best friend. But the stunt they attempt on the night of their college graduation goes horribly wrong, and Dean and Cas find themselves with badly burned hands.

They recuperate at the Novak family cabin, where both find themselves frustrated over the inability to use their hands for the most basic of daily tasks— not least of which is the inability to clean the pipes, so to speak. Born of boredom and desperation, Dean proposes a new dare that doesn’t just cross the line of friendship, it obliterates it.

But what’s fun and games for Dean turns serious for Castiel, who has secretly pined for his best friend since they were kids. Burns will heal, but will a heart be broken forever? To make things right, Dean may have to face his biggest feat of daring yet.

NSFW

Tags: Alternate Universe, Minor Injuries, Injury Recovery, Friends With Benefits, Pining, Porn with Feelings

Team Free Skiing

Author: supernatural9917 - @supernatural9917fic -  supernatural9917 Artist: Potatofu - @theabsolutemagicpotato - potatofu

Summary: Jack is obsessed with the Winter Olympics, especially the downhill events. The world isn't currently ending, so Team Free Will 2.0 + Mary decide a ski trip sounds like just the thing!

Written for the SPN Holiday Reverse Mini Bang

Tags: Team Free Will 2.0, ski trip, Jealous Dean Winchester, Winter Olympics, Fluff, season 13 divergent, SPN Holiday Reverse Mini Bang

Whisper Its Name

Author: supernatural9917 - @supernatural9917fic -  supernatural9917 Artist: Delicious-irony - @delicirony - delicious-irony

Summary: English actor Castiel Novak is determined to make Balthazar Roché's masterpiece novel into a film. All-American beefcake Dean Winchester is determined to shake off typecasting and prove his acting chops. Can they get past their initial dislike of each other and do justice to the tragic romance at the heart of Whisper Its Name?

Written for the Dean/Cas Midwinter 5K Tropefest based on art by delicious-irony.

NSFW

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Actors, costume drama, English Castiel

[blueheartwholesoul]

Walls

By Marquis Ingram

She said

I'd love to hear about your heart.

I've heard that it was wrapped in cloth and tossed to the sands of time

Picked up by the sea and sunken to the locker of some dude named Jones,

Davey?!?

That you made clues to a heart neva seen  

Just to say x Marks the spot

To where you dislodged your heart

She said I hear

You take passion in the crimes and lies that reeled your feet upon this plank

Just to deep seas dive into the deaths favorite position

Your oxyen replaced with oxy

The melodies replaced with molly

I would say that I found ya soul

But I heard that it left ya body

So I rewound the clock so father time can show her what I been thru

Placed her in seats so when she swallowed what I was served her trake wouldn't displace too

I Proclaimed

My fear of now is not failure cause i'm past that.

Mixed wrong roads with right pills

Found that heart ache WASN'T a hotel but the whole world I lived in

SO I WAS ABOUT THAT

Route

66 was the only road i took

so i made u-turns that turned hearts left behind into roadkill

So I just kept it pushing

How does it feel when you see your heart ground into shambles?

It doesn't

Because i missed the preamble to this operation

That divided me by the people i dated

Each taking more than i could give without giving

Each eating of my souls leaving me dead but still living

I filled myself with

Their seasonless soup that had me hungering for soulju

Realizing too late that i never wanted them but my soul do

My attraction,spiritual

My agape hunger became ritual

So Enamored i became by a soul that needed cleaning

Instead of passing them to the lord for healing

I found myself clinging to their clinging

Locked in chain of needing

They poured their tears into my brita

Filtered the water n left their sorrows there to quench me

But how can you be quenched when your chest is left empty?

You can't

So in anger I block myself from them

till I couldn't feel me

And so I felt empty

Unable to be full or quenched I became filled with work

Building

Used sorrows as mortar and excuses as bricks to build a tower to the sky

And along the way my blueprint got warped and my mind it got devoured into more....

More helping,

More hurting,

More pain,

More healing,

More ignoring,

MORE feeling,

More blocking,

More empty,

More more,

Too much more for me to ever be the me...

Looking for what has me Grasping at air in my dreams

Longing for someone who holds me tight when I internalize my pain

Running towards someone wants for me to be me

Someone that's Begging

Mr Gorbachev tear down these walls

I woke up and found myself Kneeling at the precipice of life

Finally giving up all the things I tried to fill with

To hear him say

"I called for you for so long and you ran from who you were

Allowed hollowed bodies to steal what was your talents all along

But

Today  life will extend as I knock down these walls

Filled is you soul your heart your all"

That's my story

You can chew it if you like.

But there's bones from my closet that will fill mouths with every bite

But my stories just a snack

It takes 5 letter to make it

Full course is in the word

But to some it's like a curse

B I B L E

[thehonestmommy]

Let me introduce myself...

I’m Sarah. And I’m about to become a first time mom (FTM).

I wanted to tell you a bit about my experience leading up to now, and continue to share what its like to go through this major life change in the most honest way possible.  

We don’t all get to this point of being a first time mom through the same route. For some of us, its got some weird detours. It’s my hope that the telling of my story will help others feel just a bit more normal about their path. 

Today i’m writing this from week 19 of my pregnancy and i’m glowing (okay its 60% sweat) and proudly showing my bump to the world. I’ve never felt this well in my life, and i’m crazy happy. You might look at me now, and think i’m one of those women who’s been yearning for this her whole life. 

With how I feel now, It’s easy enough for me to say that I’ve always wanted to have kids, but I wouldn’t be telling the full truth.  So, let me be honest. 

A baby-crazy teenager

I spent most of my adolescent years fantasizing about having a great job as an artist, and being married and raising a family in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia (my home town). Of course, as I got older those things shifted and the details changed, but the idea of having a family never faded from my fantasy. Even as a young adult of just 16 year old, I wanted to begin having children. In fact, much to the surprise and fear of my friends and boyfriends of that time, I wanted very specifically to be a young mom.

You see, I am the baby of a 3-child family. My parents were not old when they had me, but life circumstances sometimes kept them from being particularly physically active with me. They both worked a lot and had their own financial and emotional challenges (which I appreciate more and more as I get older). My parents gave so much of their life to us, but still, there were times in my up-bringing where I wish my parents could have joined me in some of my experiences. I think back to being in Florida at Universal Studios when I was 14 years old. My original choice of park to visit on our vacation was Bush Gardens with all the exciting rollercoasters, but my parents suggested it would be a waste of our time and money since they weren’t planning on join me on any of the rides (and wouldn’t allow me to go alone).  They weren’t completely opposed to joining me all the time though. They both went on some of the tame rides with me at Universal so we still had a fun time at the park. It took some convincing, but my father joined me on one of the rollercoasters. I was thrilled and at the same time sad that it was the only coaster I got to ride in the park. It wasn’t till later in my life that I realized going on those roller coasters was hard on my dads body due to work injuries, and that my mother was not a thrill-seeker (like me). And I couldn’t help but wonder… if they had been younger, would things be different? 

And so, during my life as a young adult, I realized that I desperately wanted to have a baby as young as was acceptable, so I could be a parent who was active and able to keep up with an energetic child. Having a baby was always top of mind. I was an anomaly to my friends, but I was honest with myself. This is what I wanted. Of course, I was not in a relationship or life situation that was conducive to having children, so I focused on my schooling and getting myself into a career that could help me get to my family goals.

In college I started dating a guy (now my husband) who I thought from day one was an ultimate catch and serious family-making material. Just when I thought the fantasies about having a baby would click into overdrive, they started to fade. 

How it all changed

I was happily in love and enjoying every spare moment we had together. We spent a season away from home having some fun experiencing and learning about ourselves and each other, and we continued to be caught up in our lives, and slowly lost touch with the desire for creating a family. That feeling was being replaced with the intoxication of independence and the illusion of youth. 

… and then we took a big hit. After we had moved back to our home province, my boyfriend was was facing unemployment (a familiar story for many people in our area), and was offered a job about 20 hours away. It took the wind out of our sails. Life just got real.

This was a very challenging time for us both, It’s still hard to even conjure up the memories now. For two years, we did the ‘long distance relationship’ dance of lingering late night phone calls and feeling so in love, but utterly alone.  Being apart is difficult for any young couple. But for us, there was a strong divide. He knew he was unable to work in our home town (or even our home province) and being away was his only option to hold employment... and I was stubbornly in love with living a small and simple life on our island, and refused to leave that lifestyle behind. We were both holding each other back. , but there was a strong breaking point for us both. We couldn't continue to do this to one another... so he gave me an ultimatum; Either move away to be with him, or lose him for good. 

I decided that moving away from home was best for us both in terms of our career and adventure so I packed up my life and headed to the big city. And just like that, the wind was back in our sails, and we were living a dream life. We had an apartment in a high-rise down town, found new jobs in our careers, and made new friends. I worked as a designer for a music production company and spent many nights at music venues enjoying the night-life. We went to concerts together, travelled, partied, ate at new restaurants, got involved in the arts scene and gained a full on lust for life. We were young, living alone together away from family in a big city without a care in the world. We were high on life!

In looking back at that time, I can see now that  I was completely disengaged with the idea of having children. I was enjoying being an independent adult, in love and Working on my career. My life was blossoming, and it was thrilling! At the same time as I was enjoying my life, I was also faced very often with the horror of the world around me. Our politics, our environment, and the projection of our future. The news bombarded us daily with stories of war, suicide, disease, famine, violence, social oppression and hatred. All these things had me saying many times in an off the cuff manner that ‘I don’t want to bring a child into a world like this.’ And so, I identified as a woman who chose not to bare children. That was my right, and my choice.

During that time that I would now identify as my non-maternal time, there were people who came into my life, who before knowing me terribly well, noted that despite my views of the world around me, I was still a positive person. I’d been described as a sunny, glass-half-full person. These people were new to me (having moved to a new city) and their perspective of my personality was intriguing. Their comments prompted me to turn inward and see it in myself. It took some time to align my thoughts with my behaviours. For one, it didn’t align very well with how I thought the world was in shambles. And for another, these people didn’t know me as well as say, my best friends or my family. But still, their words and opinions had an impact on me. I did very often (and still do) tend to look on the brighter side of things, and was pretty damn good at finding a silver lining and keeping my head above water when my world was drowning.

Over time, that started to become a strong part of my identity and how I viewed myself. I AM the person who will always find happiness in every dark place. I am the type who can enjoy the little things in daily life. I am powerfully optimistic, and I bring that out in others. Armed with this knowledge, my self esteem began to grow.  The more I leaned into that positive identity shift, the closer I became to wanting to be a parent again. It grew very slowly and very subtly; I felt more confident in myself, and I started being more interested in the intricacies of parenthood and fantasized about how I would raise a compassionate, positive and happy child. I grew fond of picturing how my husband and I would tackle the challenges of raising a kid, and how our lives would go from exciting nights on the town, to exciting days experiencing the world through the eyes of a child.  I caught myself feeling proud of the parents in my life, and even the strangers as they integrated a child into their lifestyles with ease. And most notably, I caught myself longingly gazing at children, babies, and pregnant moms with a soft smile on my face.  

Tick tock goes the clock

It was coming back...that tick-tick-tick of my internal clock. And right in time with it, my husbands expressions of how he wishes to have a bigger life with more meaning, and his unmistakable joy when being around his nieces and nephews. It was like a warm glow of a sunrise finally dawning on us. We were ready to take the step together to become parents. To be a family. 

But (there’s always a but!) like the warn out story of so many before us, mother nature wouldn't let it happen that easy.  Despite being ready, our bodies were not. And like a striking blow to the heart, I was diagnosed with endometriosis; a reproductive condition (disease) that makes getting pregnant a challenge for many, and an impossibility for some.  

My diagnosis meant that, depending on the severity of my condition, I may struggle for a long time to have children, and realistically I may not be able to conceive at all.  Fortunately, many women successfully conceive and there are treatment options that could help increase my chances. 

I began a 3 year treatment to help set up a ‘hospitable’ environment for my body to carry a baby. During that time, I could not get pregnant. While that was a difficult reality to face and a long time to wait, it was the most logical step forward on our path to parenthood. 

3 years passed, and finally, we were cleared for trying to conceive. And yet, mother nature still had more to say. It took us 2 more years of trying, waiting, disappointment and tears before our doctor finally recognized that it wasn't working, and we weren’t getting any younger. At this point I was 32 years old (and my husband 34) and had been trying to have a baby for 5 years (including treatment time). It was time for intervention with a fertility specialist. 

We were both saddened by needing the intervention, but ultimately relieved that we were being escalated to the next step and hopefully much closer to success. After a short waiting period, we had our first appointment with our fertility specialist. It was a long appointment of many questions, explanations, and date planning. We were moving forward with appointments immediately, beginning with blood work for us both, and some mildly invasive tests for me. 

Of course, my tests were tightly scheduled during specific times in my menstrual cycle so that they could accurately look at egg production, the shape and position of my reproductive organs, and a variety of other factors. All my appointments were laid out; on day 4 of your cycle, procedure A. On day 10 of your cycle, procedure B Etc, etc. I was incredibly nervous about the outcomes of the procedures. What if it wasn't the Endometriosis that was the problem? What if it was something much worse, or what if all this time, I was completely infertile? I was spiralling down with worries of letting my husband down; the man who so badly wanted to have kids. I didn’t want to be the reason he would never have a son or daughter. I was straight up scared. 

The waiting game

During the anticipation of my first procedure, I was counting down days in fear, waiting impatiently for my cycle to begin. Waiting, worried and anxious. And waiting. And waiting. and more waiting? 

Wait...what day is it? I’m three days late. Now four. And my cute but very independent and non-cuddly dog is following me around like my shadow and cuddling with me constantly. This is weird... I cant be... can I? 

I bought a test. It was positive. 

OH MY GOD. How did this happen?! We got pregnant while waiting for my cycle to begin for fertility testing! Right when we were least expecting it, mother nature stepped up and said “Fine. If you’re really this serious, here ya go”

WE DID IT! 

And so here we are, joyously pregnant after 5 years of trying, and managing to pull off a natural conception with no surgical intervention when all the odds were stacked against us. I’m not the young mom that I’d hoped I would be, but I can say with complete confidence that I’m much more prepared and emotionally stable to bring a child into the world. It was a blessing in disguise that we were met with roadblocks and forced to wait. We are amazed that it happened to us this way, and love that we have such an interesting story so far. 

I for one, am super excited to see how this story continues to unfold! 

Stay tuned! 

[j-a-nuary]

Bad Decisions

3.2k | First | Two | Next |

From: Barbie Heyyy pretty thing, still working too much?

I rolled my eyes. Three “y”s? What a tool. What an incredibly good looking tool.

To: Barbie A bit, yeah.

I refocused on the screen in front of me. Someone had incorrectly closed a customer account, without having cleared it with higher management. It was a simple enough mistake to fix, but the fact that it was so simple made me question their ability. So, doing my due diligence, I was going over the rest of their work.

My phone chirped again.

From: Barbie When can you take a break?

I rubbed my hands over my face and glanced at the clock. Noting the time triggered my stomach to rumble. I hadn't realised how long I had been at my desk.

To: Barbie I'll probably get some dinner in a half hour or so.

Looking around, I saw some of my juniors nearly nodding off at their desks. I stood and stretched.

“Ah, is it that late already? Everyone really worked hard today.”

Taking their chance to get out, there was a scramble of chairs and coats as everyone shambled out of the office.

I made motions as if I were leaving as well, but circled back around to my office. I sat heavily in my chair, ready to pull a long night.

“Director?”

I looked up, just to be greeted by the intern.

“Yes… uh…”

“Chae Jeong Bi.”

“Chae Jeong Bi, right. What can I help you with?”

“Oh,” she looked a little surprised, “I just wanted to make sure…”

She wilted under my gaze. I softened slightly.

“What's up?”

“Well,” she scratched at her neck, “I just wanted to make sure you would be okay alone. You haven't eaten anything all day, and if you're staying late then you'd be walking out to your car in the middle of the night a… and I should just go, shouldn't I?”

I looked her over. She was twisting the strap of her purse and shuffling her feet. I glanced at the clock once more to confirm my suspicions.

“Do you want me to get a security guard to walk you down to your car?”

“Ah, well, I… aren't they all men?”

I didn't need to know why. Standing, I grabbed my bag and coat.

“I'll walk with you. I need to take a break anyway.”

I gave her the names of female coworkers that she could ask to walk with her. She seemed like she was going to cry by the time we reached her car.

“Yah. Don't do that.”

“Sorry,” she patted at her face quickly, “you're just being so nice about this. I'm not sure how to-”

“I'm doing the same thing I would do for anyone. I'm not being nice, I'm being human. Okay?”

She nodded.

“Alright. I'll make sure to introduce you to Sooyoung tomorrow. We’ll make sure you have someone comfortable to walk with you.”

My phone started ringing as I walked back towards the building. Bobby.

“Yes?”

“Where are you?”

“At work. Why?”

“Not according to the front desk guy.”

I could see through the front windows now. There was Bobby, one hand on the front desk, the other clasping his phone against his ear. There was a bag on the desk next to him.

“Oh man…” I groaned and hung up on him. As I got closer I watched him double check that I had actually hung up. My phone started ringing again as I stepped through the door.

“What? Why are you here? It's fine Yeong Chan,” I placated the security guard. Turning back to Bobby, I waited for an answer.

“Well?”

“I brought you food.”

I shook my head.

“This is my job Bobby.”

“You need to eat to work, and you've been doing too much overtime. Come on,” he gave me his bunny smile, “I haven't seen you in ages.”

I relented, but made sure to keep my scowl in place as he signed in and followed me upstairs.

He made some attempts at conversation as we rode the elevator up, but I wasn't into it. I wasn't actually angry, but it was easier to act like that than to let myself panic. He didn't need to know I was worrying.

Once we were in my office, I took up my place behind the desk. Bobby crooked his head and laid the take-away bag on the little coffee table in the middle of the room.

“Do you regret it? We don't have to let it be a problem.”

He might not look very intuitive, but he had surprised me before.

“Bobby...” I rested my head against my fingers, staring into my reflection on my desktop.

“Just let me talk, okay? I'm not in love with you, but we're friends. I love you as my friend. And what happened was…” he sighed, heavily dropping into one of the chairs next to the table.

“It was great, actually. I had fun. A lot of fun. I hope you had fun too. But I want to make sure we're on the same page here. You know?”

I chuckled. How cocky can one guy get?

“So…? What?” I leaned back in my chair, trying to look imperious. “You think I've been avoiding you because I caught feelings? Get over yourself Bobby.”

His smile was cemented in place as he started pulling paper plates and chicken out of the plastic bag.

“I couldn't exactly blame you if you did. I mean, look at me.”

I refrained from indulging his request. Instead, I focused on my computer screen again. The mouse wheel flicked the spreadsheet in front of me up and down uselessly.

“Come eat.”

Finally looking up at him, I saw that he had laid out two plates full of fried chicken and two plastic bottles of soju. I grimaced, but made my way to sit opposite him.

“I can't drink on the job.”

“This isn't work,” he gestured to the table, “this is dinner with a friend.”

I sighed, playing my role of the straight man. We both knew I would end up drinking. I just needed to go through the motions.

We ate in silence for a little while. The only sounds beside the hum of my computer fan was the scrunch of napkins and the small noises that accompany greasy food.

“I'm fine with repeating the performance, if you wanted, of course.

I stopped chewing and looked up at Bobby. Of course. He wanted to keep the line open. Men.

“I'll, ah, keep that in mind.”

We fell back into a slightly more awkward silence than before. Barely a minute into it, Bobby spoke up again.

“Hanbin said he saw you yesterday.”

I floated my eyes around the room and away from Bobby as I sipped from my bottle.

“Mm, yeah, he said he missed me.”

Bobby was inspecting the chicken leg in his hands.

“He was out all night too.”

I reached for the fries.

“Is that so?”

The dulcet scrape of Bobby's chair scooching back accompanied him tossing the food down as he stood up.

“Yah!”

I delicately picked up a napkin and tried to rid my hands of grease.

“Look at me!”

Dropping the napkin, I slowly raised my gaze to meet his. He was annoyed. He was annoying.

“What?”

He narrowed his eyes accusatorily.

“Did you fuck Hanbin?”

“What does it matter if I did or didn't?”

“Yah! Don't be so casual about it! How…” Bobby turned with a huff to face away from me.

Typical. He wanted to make sure that I didn't have any expectations, but he had his own expectations for me. Men always want a girl to be a sultry whore with them and a pious virgin with everyone else. Not that they offered any incentive.

“We’re best friends! He's my best friend! You fuck me, ignore me, and then you go and fuck Hanbin?! Why?!”

“I thought you came here to explain that you don't have any feelings for me? So what does it matter who I fuck? I never made any promises!”

We were both standing now. He was shredding a napkin between his hands. My own rested on my hips.

“So… what? Since we just had a one night fling you go and screw my best friend?! Why don't you understand how fucked up that is?”

“If anything was fucked up it was me letting you up that night!”

“So you do regret that night! I'm just a mistake to you?!”

“Yes! You were a mistake!”

I couldn't even hear my computer fan now. The only thing I could hear was blood pounding in my ears.

There was no telling how long Bobby and I stared at each other. He seemed to be panting from the argument. His stupid muscle tee showed the shine of sweat on his chest. His necklace was stuck on his clavicle.

He finally huffed. Shaking his head, he bent and started cleaning up the scraps on the table.

“Bobby…” I stepped forward.

“Don't,” he twitched away from my outreached hand.

“Bobby this is ridiculous. If anyone should be mad it should be Hanbin.”

He scoffed, fiddling with one of the half empty bottles.

“Why should Hanbin be mad? Because I got there first?”

Pause. Reverse. Bobby thought he had gotten to me first?

I'm not sure what expression I had on but it must have clued him in somehow.

“Oh my god…” he sunk onto a chair, raising his hands to clutch his head. “I'm dead. He's going to kill me.”

What a drama king.

“He's not going to kill you. Besides,” I slouched back into my previous seat, “we’ve been perfectly clear that he and I are not exclusive. Casual only.”

“No. No no no no no. Hanbin doesn't do casual. He can't. He thinks he can, and tries it out, but always ends up hurting himself.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Shit.

“Then what do you suggest I do?”

Bobby groaned, flailing his body a bit in annoyance.

“I don't know… you could date him…”

I let the idea hang in the air for a moment. It was ridiculous, of course.

“That… no. I can't date him. That would make it worse.”

“Then break up with him!”

“We aren't dating?”

Bobby ruffled his hands through his hair petulantly.

“I know that, but you have to end it. Now. He's already too attached if he's sleeping over your place when he misses you.”

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, Hanbin had missed me, okay. The only thing he had missed was when I wound my-

“You gotta either end it or upgrade it. If you keep it where it is it's going to end in flames.”

I clicked my tongue.

“Come on. Hanbin’s a big boy. I'm sure that if there was a problem that he would tell me himself.”

“And risk losing his… uh…” Bobby fidgeted slightly, “you know. He wouldn't want to give up his, well, access.”

“Access…”

Bobby was pointedly observing a small grease smear on my table.

“To y… only an idiot would give up being able to touch your body.”

“You seem fine with “giving up access”,” I joked, trying to… I wasn’t even sure what I was trying to do. Get the conversation away from Hanbin, probably. I stood as I said it, turning my back to Bobby as I retrieved the small spray bottle of cleaner from my desk. I couldn't let that grease mar the finish of the table.

“I don't want to,” I felt his words on my neck at the same moment I felt his arms at my sides.

My body tensed. Bobby was barely touching me, but I could feel the warmth growing between our bodies.

“And if it weren't one of my friends I wouldn't give a shit.”

I felt my voice drop slightly, giving me a richer tone.

“Hmm… really?”

It was obviously a bad idea, but I straightened up, moving to just brush against Bobby’s clothes.

He responded easily. His arms moved closer together, actually pressing against me now.

“You kidding me? I literally just said only an idiot would.”

It was like a game. Each movement got us just barely closer to each other. Both of us were clearly waiting for the other to make a real move.

I turned, leaning back against my desk. Tilting my head, I stared Bobby down.

“You're not exactly a genius you know.”

He leaned in closer, chest bumping mine.

“Fuck you.”

I ran a hand up his arm, leaning forward to whisper my next taunt directly into his ear.

“Isn't that sort of the problem?”

Definitely a bad idea. Or maybe just a messy idea. Or just an idea. I was single. Technically I could do whatever I wanted. No, not technically, literally. I hadn’t made any promises to anyone, and if I felt guilty I could talk myself out of it pretty easily.

Bobby on the other hand… didn't seem to care suddenly.

He crushed his body against mine, pressing me against the desk. His mouth was busy, seemingly trying to replace my own. His hands ran up and down my legs.

“Fuck you for not wearing skirts to work.”

“I'm the boss Bobby.”

His hands tugged at my shirt, untucking it from my waistband.

“I'm sure the staff wouldn't mind.”

I pulled his beanie off, allowing my fingers a grip on his hair.

“We can't do this here.”

Bobby just grinned, his eyes nearly disappearing in his cheeks.

I made Bobby wait around the corner of the hallway outside my apartment. For the first time, I regretted giving Hanbin a key to my place.

I swept through the small apartment to make sure it was empty. Before fetching Bobby, I stopped in front of the mirror in the entry to give myself a quick once over. I had already removed the smudged lipstick from the encounter in my office, but I was paranoid.

I heard voices in the hallway when I opened the door. Pausing, I listened to what they were saying. As I listened, my phone vibrated.

“We were just going to go for a drink. You should join us.”

I checked my phone.

From: Barbie Call

I took a breath and called his phone. I heard his voice.

“Oh, she must have found it… Yeoboseyo?”

The last word echoed in my ear. I didn't say anything.

“Where was it? Ready now?” Bobby's voice seemed very calm. “I ran into Hanbin in the hall. Come quickly.”

I decided to go along with whatever Bobby was playing at. Waiting a few more seconds I listened in on their small talk.

“So you two had made plans?” Hanbin’s voice was muffled slightly.

“Not really. I just called her and she said she had to stop at home before we could go anywhere.”

I marvelled at how relaxed Bobby sounded.

“And you came here to meet her?”

“Well I-”

“All set. Hey Hanbin,” I stepped around the corner to interrupt the interrogation, “what brings you here?”

“I just wanted to make sure you weren't still at work. Am I interrupting plans?”

“Not really, Bobby just wanted to catch up and talk about our dramas.”

Bobby shot me a frustrated look from behind Hanbin. I ignored him. Hadn't he just told Hanbin to join us for drinks anyway?

We ended up in a pizza shop. We also ended up being joined by Donghyuk and Junhoe.

Junhoe and I had never really been close, so he seemed to have missed the strange tension in the air. Donghyuk, on the other hand, had not only noticed it but actually asked about it. Kind of.

“Did something happen with your two admirers?”

Hanbin’s head peeked up from his drink, straw still stuck between his teeth. Bobby’s eyes doubled in size.

“Who would admire you?” Junhoe asked, teasingly sarcastic.

I lied. Obviously.

“Just these two guys at work. They're in the same department together, and one of them is technically in charge of the other. So it's awkward.”

“Why would it matter if one is in charge of the other?”

I glanced at Bobby as he spoke. I couldn’t tell if he was actually buying the story, or just playing along..

“Well,” I shrugged, “I don't want the manager to take his rejection out on the other.”

Hanbin, who had taken the seat next to me, leaned back and spread his arms along the back of the booth’s seats. He made a huffy sort of noise.

“Do you actually like either one?” Junhoe asked.

“Of course she doesn't,” Hanbin snapped, “you're talking to miss ‘relationships only cause problems’ right now.”

“Really?” For the first time Junhoe seemed to take more than a polite interest in the conversation. “So is that why you and Dongdong haven't gotten together yet?”

It was as if the the table had hit a 404 error. Everyone just stared at Junhoe until Donghyuk let his head hit the table.

Then it was a brief moment of chaos.

“Donghyuk? Out of everyone you think she'd end up with Donghyuk?!” Hanbin seemed indignant. Junhoe attempted to defend his assumption, but was drowned out by Hanbin launching into an explanation of every single way Donghyuk and I would be a poor match.

“Why would you even say that? Donghyuk, why would he say that? Do you like her?” Bobby was acting like he'd just heard that frogs were actually mammals.

For his part, Donghyuk was mostly sputtering out protests while I just laughed until I had stomach cramps.

Eventually the table settled. It took an explanation from Donghyuk and I about how the very idea of dating each other was repulsive on an atomic level.

“She's not even the same species as us, you know?”

“Exactly! It'd be like dating an alien,” I nodded.

“I don't know,” Bobby shrugged, “I've seen some hot aliens in movies.”

“You can date her then,” Donghyuk replied flippantly, “boldly go where no man has gone before.”

I snorted so hard at that, soda shot into my sinuses. Hanbin went full poker face while he handed me napkins, but Bobby looked like he was just barely stopping himself from saying something. Still coughing, I jumped in before his will broke.

“I wouldn't exactly say no man.”

Donghyuk’s reaction was immediate.

“Oh! Gross! I do not want to hear about… fucking… seriously Jun?”

Junhoe was animatedly miming an intense scene of fellatio using his water bottle.

I'm sure the waiter was glad when we left.

I looped my arms through Donghyuk’s and Bobby's elbows. I hadn't realised how much I had missed my little circle of boys.

“You seem happy,” Donghyuk commented as we made our way towards their dorms.

I shrugged, “I missed you guys.”

I heard Hanbin scoff and mutter behind us.

“Funny way of showing it.”

“I barely noticed you were gone,” Junhoe teased.

“Oh, are you still here?” I gave Junhoe a confused look. “I thought we had moved on to the friends only portion of the night.”

“Fuck you.”

I was in a good mood. I was with my boys. My boys were with me. I felt perfectly at ease.

Scratch that, I felt too at ease.

“Maybe after a few drinks,” I shrugged.