#oh wow 12k

[songwritingauslly]

on the bright side, this is the funniest fucking thing ever

[nnight-dances]

LOVE & OTHER CLICHÉS

PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader (ft. kim mingyu)

GENRE: fluff, angst, suggestive content

TROPES: brother's best friend, slow burn question mark, skirting around communication because that's a good plot point, jealousy as requested, banter, teasing, arbitrary social norms about words like "cute" and "sweet" pls don't listen to a word i say ever, etc.

WORD COUNT: 12k (for some reason)

The first time you re-meet Jeon Wonwoo, your brother Joshua's best friend, you think a lot of things. He does, too. It's really interesting how neither of you say exactly what you think.

"Y/N! Is that really you?" 

If you hadn't been on the phone with Karina when you heard Wonwoo's voice, you think you might've genuinely passed away because his voice is something of nostalgic value to you, something distant and definitely not in the same living room as you. You look up and your eyes widen when you find the man gaping at you. "-Oh, hi–" you shoot up from your seat on the couch and then quickly remember your friend still on the line. You tell her, "Sorry, Rina, mind if I call you back later? Okay, thanks, love you. Night." 

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at you like you'd said something amusing and it's turn to take him in as you drop your phone onto the couch. "Wonwoo, god, you're alive?" you start with a small smile and continue, "Wow, um, you look… the same." What you mean to say is: How did you get even taller, you attractive bastard?

Wonwoo offers you one of his smug smiles at that and replies, "Thanks? I think. You look much more… grown up, you know." He really should've said: Holy shit, you're pretty. And then he opens his arms, "Bring it in, kid. Let's see if I can still get away with tackling you to the ground."

You scoff even as you step closer to him, ignoring the way his arms are a lot bigger than they once used to be when you tell him, "I think you're remembering it wrong, dude. I was the one tackling you."

 It's no use, though, because when he wraps his arms around you, you sigh contentedly because this right here? This is a hug. Wonwoo's so warm around you and you can only pretend that the way you feel his hard muscles tense around you doesn't send chills up your spine. Wonwoo's smiling wide, only barely controlling a comment about how good you smell and how you might've grown taller but somehow still manage to fit just the same in his arms.

All in all, it's a pretty sweet reunion. You haven't seen each other in over five years so the curiosity and surprise is barely uncalled for. You only wished you could've held onto the hug longer before Joshua entered the room with a disgusted grimace on his face.

"Gross. Can you guys not do that?" 

You're the first to pull away with a flustered sigh at Joshua's comment, rolling your eyes. Wonwoo tries to cover up the way he's slightly out of breath by countering, "Why? You can't handle us interacting like two normal humans? Want us to claw at each other's eyeballs like the good old times?"

–

"I don't get it, though," Wonwoo tells you, a slice of donkatsu hovering near his mouth, "Why didn't you just move in with Shua?"

"That's what I've been asking her! Haven't I been a good enough brother to you? What did I do wrong? Huh?" 

You'd already seen Joshua's reaction coming, sipping the beer from your glass to brace yourself. "And as I've politely reminded you many times, big brother, it's not personal. I just thinking that would be the equivalent of moving back in with my parents. Plus, I can afford to live alone now, remember? The promotion that came with the reallocation?"

Joshua flashes you the unconvinced glare he always does when you reason with him. But you train your eyes on Wonwoo instead, determined to get him on your side at least. "It would be waste to just live with him and not do the independent thing. Plus, I literally live across from you, man, so I might as well be moving in with you."

Wonwoo nods quietly as he washes his bite down with some beer, "Hmm. That's fair enough. I don't know why Shua's been whining about it then."

You break into a pleased laugh at that where your brothers gasps in offense. "Hey, Jeon Wonwoo, whose side are you supposed to be on here?"

Wonwoo shrugs, "I'm on the side of logic, my man, I'm sorry."

"God, don't let her fool you. She says all this reasonable stuff but–"

"Oh, so you agree that it's reasonable then?" you question him with a raised brow but he ignores you as he spews his nonsense. 

"-- But the real reason she wants to live alone is so she can get laid."

You hit Joshua real hard in the arm at that, "Ew, dude, don't be a pervert." 

Wonwoo looks postively entertained between the two of you as he provokes you, "What does he mean?"

"Fuck if I know. I don't know what gave this guy the idea that I like to sleep around, if anything, he's the player."

Joshua narrows his eyes at you, "Uh-huh, me, the guy who was in a long-term relationship of nearly five years?"

"Emphasis on was in a relationship. How many people have you slept with since then? I don't want to know. I'm just making a point."

Wonwoo chuckles, "She's right, man. You're not exactly on the higher ground here."

"Okay, okay, but I did overhear you telling your friend that, quote, living with my brother would be the greatest clockbock there is, end quote."

Your jaw falls open when you hear him recount your words to Karina only a few hours ago. "You're eavesdropping on my calls? Wow, see, this is why I don't want to live with you."

"You weren't exactly very quiet! And you were sitting in the living room, too!"

"Whatever," you roll your eyes and then catch the questioning look Wonwoo sends your brother and you take matters in your own hands. "Fine, I said that because I mean, yeah, it's not like the hottest thing to be living with your brother, okay? Like what if I meet a cute guy and lose him to the fact that Shua's the biggest prude to exist?"

"Man, you just made a player, and now I'm a prude? Choose a story, goddamn it!" 

You shrug with a grin, "People can be two things, bro."

– 

"So, you all moved in yet?" Wonwoo asks you and you try to ignore how silly he looks with the edges of his glasses fogged up against the heat of the coffee in his hands. Last week, he'd texted you asking if you'd like to get coffee and catch up. You'd replied with a goofy grin playing on your lips at 1 AM with a: sure :))) if u pay!

You hum as you stir your own latte, "I think so. But everytime I think it's all done, there's always something small I forgot. Like, this morning I realized I don't have wine glasses."

He chortles, "Ah, I know what you mean. Something small but inconvenient. Like a good night lamp."

"Ugh, I need one of those, too. I brought my old one with me but ended up leaving it in the study because I didn't have one there." You sigh as you slump in your seat, "God, I hate moving. I'll have age twenty years by the time I'm fully done."

Wonwoo watches you with a bemused smile. "I can help you with shopping, if you'd like."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's not like I moved in recently but I still remember some good places for this stuff. And it might be less tiresome if you have some company." 

Your replying smile is so genuine that it's got Wonwoo smiling and he thinks he's helping you out more for himself than Joshua. It's an unsettling thought for a moment but then your voice pipes back up with an anecdote from your work and he can't care for the thoughts. 

"...So, you have any luck finding cute guys to bring home?"

The question catches you off-guard and your grip on the wine glass you were inspecting loosens dangerously, but you hold onto it before it can break like your pretense of sanity. 

"God," you groan as you look at a chuckling Wonwoo who's standing next to you, arms crossed in that infuriatingly attractive way. "I was slightly drunk when I said that, so it would be nice if you forgot about it."

"Why? I mean, it's understandable you'd want to get into the dating pool here. It's one way to get to know a new city."

You turn all your attention to a different glass. "I guess. But I haven't had too much luck, no. Maybe waiting around to find love organically is my problem."

Wonwoo doesn't immediately respond to that, making you uneasy and sending heat to your ears. Whatever. You'd just have to scream into your pillow and cry yourself to sleep so you could forget this embarrassment. 

"Hmm, I don't know. It'll just take more time that way, I suppose. If you're willing to wait."

It's your turn to go mute except this time the silence is comfortable, only broken by a comment here and there about the glasses. 

"What about you?" you ask Wonwoo at checkout, watching the worker wrap up your chosen set of glasses in bubble wrap. "Are you… with someone?"

Wonwoo's lips twitch with a small smile at your question. "Not at the moment. I like the space of being single." You nod in understanding. 

"And I haven't really met anyone worth spending my time with," he says, eyes floating to you as he pushes his glasses up with a finger. 

You pause at his words, thanking the cashier for their help and making your way to the exit. "You make it sound like dating's a chore, Wonwoo."

He shrugs with a shoulder, "It can be. With the wrong person."

– 

"So… tell me all about your hot brother's hot best friend?" 

"Ew and ew, Karina, do you want me to block you for real this time?" 

"I'm just being honest but all right, do you want to talk about your years-old crush on your brother's best–"

"That's not any better. And I don't have crush on him. Also, it would really nice if we didn't say the word crush anymore. We're both adults with jobs."

"And adults with jobs aren't allowed to have a little fun?" Karina's voice is laced with laughter and you groan in frustration. Who has she been hanging out with to make her so much worse? Not you. 

"Anyway, since you asked so nicely, I'll tell you. My older brother is okay. And so is Wonwoo. There."

A few minutes of further pestering from Karina and you finally let slip that Wonwoo and you have been hanging out here and there, sometimes over coffee that led to shopping dates (Karina's words, not yours) and other times spent over at Joshua's, drinking or playing video games on his couch. It was pretty cozy and you couldn't really complain about this new life.

"Oh, so you don't miss me then, huh? Nice to know. But also it seems like you're hitting it off with Wonwoo and before you cut me off, you did like Wonwoo for like half your childhood, remember? Maybe this could become something. Who knows?"

Oh, you remember. It was you who spent long summer afternoons staring at Wonwoo as he came over to your home after class, spending all his time arguing with Joshua about a card game they'd been playing or about which villain was cooler in the new movie they'd watched. For a while, it had been a distant thing but over time, you'd warmed up to them and started talking more to Wonwoo, now a regular participant in their arguments. 

And as it turns out, it doesn't take a lot of arguments to fall for Jeon Wonwoo.

– 

One thing about you is that you're stubborn. You like to think it's a genetic thing because the only person who could rival your firmness was none other than your brother. And this meant that when Karina tried to convince you that you still had a soft spot for Wonwoo, you tried to tell her that's all it was: a soft spot. Like a platonic affinity for someone you'd spent a lot of time with growing up.

And you reasoned it out with yourself that night, thinking back to the time you'd spent with him recently. It was familiar in the best way possible. Where meeting new people at work was absolutely exhausting, coming back home to your brother and Wonwoo was like a hug to your soul.

Speaking of hugs, your mind rolled over to the one you'd shared with Wonwoo a few weeks ago, an event that you often found yourself thinking. As sane and rational as you thought yourself to be, the way you'd find yourself unable to control a giggle in the dark every time you remembered the way you all but melted into his arms, strong but fond in their embrace around your waist. 

And when you come to your senses, you realize it's ridiculous how stuck up on that hug you are. It's stupid your smile that breaks through anyway and the way your heart beats faster when you remember the plans you'd made with Wonwoo for tomorrow, a trip to a local bookstore because he had found your collection of books lacking the day he'd come over for a visit.

You roll over in bed then, groaning a little because you're starting to think the soft spot might be… growing. 

–

"You know I really didn't think I would spend this much on books today," you mumble as you tap your card at the register. It was almost funny how many conversations you and Wonwoo have had at check-out, almost inevitable because often the shopping experience itself meant a lot of focused silence as the two of you browsed around in tandem. 

It was a weirdly heartwarming way to spend time together. Or maybe that was just you and your weakness for quality time. 

"What do you mean? We literally mutually decided that you needed a better collection." Wonwoo leans against the counter with a cocked brow.

"Well, the mutual part is up for discussion. It's more like you shamed me for keeping a modest book collection. And I mean, I wasn't so sure if I'd find anything good here."

"Really?" he asks, picking up the heavy bag from the counter before you can reach for it, "Because I remember you agreeing pretty quickly and enthusiastically to my proposition to go book-shopping."

"That was only because you made it sound like fun." And it meant that I'd get to spend more time with you. "And it was fun. So that's one thing you're right about."

Wonwoo's smile turns smug as you exit the bookstore, each with a paper bag in hand. You'd settled for carrying Wonwoo's own purchase of two new books that he'd apparently been meaning to come out and buy. 

"Anyway, now what? You wanna go to my place and break into one of these bad boys?" You shake the bag in your hand with a gleeful grin. But Wonwoo's looking at the mall across from you with mouth slightly ajar in concentration. And then he smiles, pure excitement plastered across his face when looks back at you.

"I have a much better idea." That's all he says before his unoccupied hand finds yours and tugs you after him. Admittedly, you're a little dizzy at the sudden touch and let him pull you across the road with quick steps, struggling to keep up with him. At the back of your head, you store away how attractive it is that Wonwoo's holding a good dozen books in a hand and yours in the other, racing ahead like it was the most important thing in the world. And honestly? If it was with Wonwoo, you think you feel the urgency in your veins as if it were travelling across your intertwined palms.

It's a good day to be a romantic for you, as you later find out, standing in line with Wonwoo to purchase tickets to a newly released movie. The genre? Rom-com.

"Well, it's not so much a rom-com as the poster makes it seem. That's actually a deft marketing stunt. It's actually a pretty serious movie about love and I've heard it's not for the weak."

So many questions. You have so many questions. 

For one, "I didn't know you were into romantic movies," you comment, watching Wonwoo from the corner of your eye, too afraid to look him in the eye now that your hand was no longer in his.

"It's possible to avoid romance. Everything is about love these days, even if it isn't."

You also can't believe that you're about to watch a movie with Wonwoo. It's all strangely… different. You'd never been to the movies alone with him. It's a new territory for you. But you're not mad. If anything, the smile on your lips is playful. 

"And it's not just that you're too scared to admit that you like rom-coms?"

"I'm not. Into rom-coms, I mean. The humor is straight-up bad and the romance is tolerable at best. It's like if you're going to do a x to death, you might as well do it well."

"I can't believe this," you mutter more to yourself than him, "Jeon Wonwoo watching a rom-com? This must be a dream."

"You dream about me, hmm?" 

You narrowly avoid whiplash when you turn to look at Wonwoo, his teasing only another addition to the list of things you didn't think you'd hear your brother's best friend every say to you. But the more you know, huh?

The movie itself is insane. The plot is devastating enough on its own but the way Wonwoo's shoulder pressed into yours the whole time, despite there being more than enough space between the two seats, has you more vulnerable than usual. So find yourself tearing up halfway through the movie and sit through the credits with half-contained sobs. And where Wonwoo had laughed at your tears mid-way, when he noticed your sobs, his hand found your back, rubbing it comfortingly. 

"That was horrific," you mumble when you're less overcome with sadness and pout at Wonwoo. "I hate you for making me watch that. I will never find happiness. And worse, I will never find love."

Your words, punctuated with that small pout of yours, has Wonwoo a breath away from falling to his knees with his head in hands because fuck, you're adorable. And truth be told, he was tearing up at the end, too, but he wouldn't let you know that because the way you accuse him for your state is just incredibly precious to him. 

"It was terrific," he corrects you, "And I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd get so emotional."

You glare at Wonwoo at that, as if you hadn't just been dabbing at your eyes with his pocket tissues, "Okay, Mister Emotionless, don't think I didn't catch you wiping tears away in the closing scene."

Wonwoo shoots a guilty grin and pats your head, "You're cute." 

The statement leaves you speechless enough that Wonwoo gets away with it, starting to walk away with a gaping you in his wake. You're deeply confused and slightly jittery when you finally catch up to him with a small "I wasn't trying to be" of affront under your breath. 

– 

"That's bad, right, isn't it? It's so bad. It's horrible."

"Calm down, Y/N, he called you cute, just so we're clear? Not a bunch of bad words right? So why is it bad?" 

"Because!" you cry out, "Because cute is like the most platonic adjective. I thought we were having a moment, what with a movie date and all– but if he thinks I'm cute then I was wrong. So unbelievably wrong." 

"Okay, I know what you mean but that's not always how things work. I mean, you said he held your hand and stuff, right? That's more than platonic. And it's all about the tone. Cute can be a very romantic word if in the right context."

"The context," you tell Karina with a sigh, "is that he's my brother's best friend! He couldn't make it any clearer. Wow, and I was all up in my head over him, too."

"Can we just take a moment to acknowledge how I told you that you still had feelings for Wonwoo?"

"We will do no such thing. Because the feelings are gone now!" 

"Right. I believe you, Y/N," Karina deadpans over the phone, "You can call me when you're done being an idiot. Bye."

– 

It's Karina's sarcastic tone that your thoughts catch onto the next few days, the ones you spend half in agony because Wonwoo hasn't contacted you and after your personal dilemma, you think you'd let someone shoot you before you texted him first. 

So you try your best to distract yourself with work, showing up earlier than you'd built a reputation for, and staying a little later than most. It's a new routine for you, one that leaves you pretty tired in a way that your bones are not used to. 

Maybe that's why your legs don't seem to be working that morning when you bump into someone on your way to the coffee machine. You'd been rubbing your neck, trying to feel out the knot that you'd woken up with, and had effectively lost track of where you were going and collided with a solid figure, sending a few steps back.

You sigh as you regain your balance, ever so thankful that you didn't fall flat on your butt as you look up at the person in front you. He's tall enough that you should've seen him coming so you're first to apologize. "Shit, sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going. Sorry about that!"

"No, no, I should've been more careful. I'm lucky I wasn't carrying a coffee or that could've been really bad. I'm sorry." The man's voice is hoarse and he talks over himself, as if eager to get all his thoughts before he forgets what he's saying. 

You meet his eyes with a small smile, "I guess we're both at fault, huh?" 

He reciprocates your smile with crescent eyes. "Yup. Can I get you a coffee as reparation?" 

"I mean, it's not a big deal at all."

"I insist," the man levels his gaze at you and you wonder how he looks like he could throw you across the room without breaking a sweat, but still manages to be so soft. 

"I'm Mingyu, by the way," he tells you as he hands you a cup of warm coffee. "Thanks Mingyu. I'm Y/N."

"I've seen you around. You were a new hire, right?"

You take your time with a sip of your coffee before responding, "Yes, I was originally at another branch but my leader wanted me closer to headquarters before they opened up new branches in this city. I don't know, something exposure for me and experience for them."

"You must be good if they sent you here," Mingyu points out and you brush it off with a noncomittal shrug. You find yourself pleasantly enamoured by Mingyu for the next ten minutes or so and you wonder how you'd missed him at all in the first place. But when he tells you he better get going, you nod with a smile, "Of course. It was nice meeting you, Mingyu."

Mingyu becomes the perfect distraction, as one might predict he would. He has a unique charm, what with the contrast between his intimidating physique but surprisingly shy demeanour. He's the textbook golden retriever in people and though you're not a dog person, you find yourself grow fonder of him every time you run into him near the coffee machine or while leaving work in the elevator. 

"You have a work crush?"

You groan loudly, throwing a half-eaten cracker at Joshua. "Come on, what is it with all the people I know and having the most childish vocabulary?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I not erudite enough for you? You know it may not seem like it but I am four years older than you and I have that much more–"

"Yeah, yeah, something about experience and knowledge, I've heard it before. And by the way, it's technically three years and three months, not that I'm counting."

"You very clearly are," Joshua points out with a frustrated laugh, "Anyway, you gonna make a move on this guy?"

"No, because if you were actually listening to me, you'd have heard that I like him as a friend and that I need help buying a gift for his birthday."

"Right, right," your brother mumbles in thought, "And that's next week?"

You nod as you pick your phone up, scrolling through the chat with Mingyu to reach the text he'd sent you a day ago: by the way, i'm throwing for my birthday on the 6th. love it if you came ;)

Winky emoji and slightly short notice aside, you'd replied as enthusiastically as you could muster: your birthday??? when were you going to tell me!! and: ofc i'll be there but not before i make you suffer for hiding smth so imp from me :(((

Before you can squeeze any more vaguely helpful tips from Joshua, his bell rings and you sit up with a frown as he stands up to get it. "Ah, Wonwoo's here."

"Wonwoo?" is your shocked gasp to that information, body going stiff because you'd seen him only in passing since the day of the movie. You think you might pass out. Why does nobody think it's important to tell you anything these days? 

You hear their voices in the corridor as Joshua lets Wonwoo in and your mind races with your options. Hiding in the bathroom for the night would be feasible if your brother wasn't a monster who would drag you out within thirty minutes. Maybe you climb out a window? But you were on the eight floor and as much as you liked to joke about death, you'd prefer to escape alive. 

Your brother's voice breaks you out of your scheming, alerting you they're in the living room. "Oh yeah, Y/N, here's someone with not childish vocabulary if you want to replace me." 

You look over your shoulder with a scowl but immediately lose your spirit when you lock eyes with Wonwoo, a lopsided smile greeting you. He's wearing a cozy sweater that's a shade of blue so dark that it might as well be black and you want to start crying because his hands are concealed beneath the sleeves, fists turned sweater paws as he stands there, looking between you and your brother. 

"Why are you two fighting this time?" 

"Nothing." "She has a crush at work." 

Wonwoo lets out a sigh when you both answer simultaneously but seems intrigued by Joshua's statement, eyeing him. "What did you say?"

"She has a–" 

"I'm warning you, if you say the word crush one more time, I will do something so unimaginable to your face at night–"

"She likes a guy from work."

Wonwoo looks surprised as he looks back at you inquisitively and you frown. "Untrue. It's just a guy I made friends with recently. And I only mentioned him so I could get advice but clearly, nobody here supports me so I'm going to take this conversation elsewhere."

"I support you." Wonwoo's quick response has you freezing in your dramatic exit and you turn to look at him in doubt but when his expression is clear of any mischief, you sit back down. 

"Nice to know. But I'd love it if we talked about something else for now. Like dinner." 

The night takes on a more comfortable journey from thereon, with the three of you ordering take-out and fighting it out with a card game while it was on its way. You were actually proud of yourself for acting normal around Wonwoo, despite all your past internal conflict. And you would've gone to sleep somewhat peacefully if he hadn't approached you in the kitchen, while Joshua was taking out trash, having lost the game. 

You were placing the leftovers in the fridge when Wonwoo materialized behind you, the only warning of his presence the question he asks you, "You want any help?" 

You barely hold in a surprised squeak as you spin around to him. "Goddamn it, Wonwoo, make some noise next time you sneak up on me?"

"Then I wouldn't be sneaking up on you, would I?"

You roll your eyes, closing the fridge behind you as you declare, "Well, I'm done here. Thanks for washing the dishes, by the way."

"Sure, I know how much you Hongs hate touching water. I was surprised you installed a faucet in your kitchen at all."

You give Wonwoo a push in response, "That's a very funny way to conceal the fact that you lost at rock paper scissors." 

"I just think it was an unfair way to decide tasks. I'm really bad at that game."

"Right, and assuming one can be good or bad at a game of rock paper scissors, what else would you have preferred to play?"

Wonwoo's eyes twinkle with an idea and then, he puts up a hand and wiggles it around in your face. "Arm wrestling."

Your smile falls, "No. That's just–"

"See," he points at you, "That's how I feel about rock paper scissors." 

Despite how much you claim that the two games are not at all on the same par, you let Wonwoo drag you to the kitchen table, standing across from you and arm ready for the wrestling. Slowly, you lean closer to him, hand coming to rest against his.

"Don't be too cocky," you mumble when his hand squeezes yours, already triumphant before the game had begun. The result of the game itself is pretty obvious but when you start to wrestle and feel Wonwoo's forearm tense against you, it has you light-headed. Your eyes leave the match to look at him, only to find him watching you with a glint in his eye. He smiles when you make eye-contact with him, going strangely silent for all his gloating a minute ago. You raise a brow at him and the bastard has the audacity to send a wink your way before pressing your arm against the wood of the table.

"Whatever," you tell him before his already obnoxious grin can swell any more. He opens his mouth and you're already anticipating something insulting to meet your eyes. But instead, Wonwoo says, "Your hand's so small." You look up at him only for him to take your hand in his and carefully line it against his own palm. 

You feel your cheeks burn. It's all so cliché, especially if he's flirting with you. Arm-wrestling turns into a hand-measuring contest. So trite. And yet, you find yourself smiling.

"See?" your hand wriggles, imitiating Wonwoo from earlier, "This game was rigged. Maybe if you had a handicap or something."

"Okay, I think I better leave before you take a knife and cut my hand up or something…"

– 

wonwoo: hello you

you: hi?

wonwoo: heard there's live music at the pub today. wanna come with?

you: ok creep

wonwoo: excuse me??? just informed you of a one in lifetime opportunity. shua's treating

you: WAIT he is???????

you: the one time i can't come?

wonwoo: you can't?

you: yes… have to attend a coworker's birthday party tonight. sorry :(

wonwoo: u should be sorry

wonwoo: imagine how much damage we could've done to joshua's wallet

You throw yourself into your sheets with a disappointed sigh, stomach uneasy at the thought of missing a hang-out with your favorite duo. But then you roll over to your side and think it's better if you go out with people who you didn't grow up with, for once. It might be a new experience. Just to be clear, this was Karina's voice resounding in your head. She had her way of giving you advice without you calling her for it. 

Three hours later, you're tiring yourself out at Mingyu's birthday party. It's intense, the party, bustling with people but then again, you'd be a fool to think Mingyu wouldn't have a roster full of friends to invite to a party. You meet the man of the night an hour into the party and he throws his hands around when he recognizes you. 

"Y/N, I'm so glad you could make it!"

"Of course. Happy birthday, Mingyu!" 

He leans over the bar and yells something at the bartender who eyes Mingyu and upon recognizing him as the birthday boy, places two shots in front of you. 

"Have a shot with me?" Mingyu grins, a slight layer of sweat shining on his forehead. You chuckle in defeat, "Sure, why not?" 

A shot turns into two and you're working on swallowing the third one when your phone buzzes in the back-pocket of your denim shorts. You're about to take a look at the caller ID and decline almost immediately but when you realize it's Wonwoo calling you, you pause. You excuse yourself from Mingyu's side quickly, making your way to a slightly quieter cornern of the party and answer.

"Wonwoo?" 

"Oh," comes Wonwoo's voice, a little distant, and he seems shocked as if he hadn't expected you to pick up. "Hey, Y/N. How are you?"

"Um. I'm fine, Wonwoo, just at that party I told you about. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. You're not too drunk, are you?" he asks, ironically slurring the question. 

"I should be asking you that question. Wonwoo, where's Joshua? Do you need me to come pick you up?"

"No," his voice is laced with disbelief, "I'm fine. Just a little tipsy. Sorry, you should get back to the party."

"Yeah," you reply, feeling a little uneasy as the liquid in your stomach sloshes around with each movement you make.

"Stay safe, Y/N. Call me if you need anything? I'm gonna go find Shua now."

Before you can ask him what he means by finding Joshua, Wonwoo's hung up on you, almost as quickly as he called you. Okay, so that was weird. And cool, now you're nauseous. 

– 

When Wonwoo drunk-calls you, he thinks he's officially lost you. If you didn't find him weird before, you probably thought him a lot weird now. That's great, he thinks. But the regret of his decision doesn't outweigh the need to see you right now, something about the fact that you're at some guy's birthday party making him all worked up. It should be obvious why he's like this but Wonwoo can avoid a serious thought for days if it keeps him slightly more sane than usual. 

But then the Joshua's bell rings and he opens the door, finding you standing there just like he'd imagined a few minutes ago. You're in a slouchy shirt that unbuttoned all the way to your mid-torso to reveal a black bikini top. He clears his throat to contain the thought that threatens to escape him: fuck, you look hot. 

"Shit," you exclaim when you see Wonwoo, "This isn't my place. Ugh. I'm stupid."

Wonwoo steps closer to you, "Are you okay, Y/N? Did you just get back?"

You nod silently and then take a step back from him. "Sorry, I'm just gonna go to the right place. You can sleep… or whatever."

"Wait, no," he rushes to your side, taking your elbow in his hand, "I'll help you."

You roll your eyes, "It's okay, I'm not drunk, Wonwoo. And by the looks of it, neither are you." But you don't push off the hand on you and simply let him follow you to your door, "Is Shua already asleep?"

"Hmm, he passed out. I don't know why he claims to be heavyweight when he can barely handle alcohol. I had force him to leave the pub before he made himself sick."

You listen intently, unlocking the door with a hum, "He's an idiot." You throw the door open and Wonwoo lets himself in after you. He's clearly not too sober because when you bend down to take of your shoes and your ass juts out dangerously close to his crotch, he almost falls over in an attempt to jump away to give you space. But he remains close just in case you stumble, his own shaky state be damned.

But you're unnervingly stable as you stand back up, taking your hand off the wall when you're done taking your shoes off and brushing them against yourself with a suspicious look thrown at him– unnerving because Wonwoo just wants an excuse to get his hands on you somehow. You're effortlessly magnetic, moving across the hall to your kitchen to pour yourself some water, still unebelievably stable, and Wonwoo follows you in a trance-like manner.

"You want something to drink?"

Your question hangs in complete silence and it's only when you look over at Wonwoo that he comprehends that you're asking him. He clears his throat again, "Um, I don't want to bother you if you want to go to bed." 

You raise a shoulder nonchalantly, "'M not sleepy. And you're here so we might as well hang." You disappear from his sight as you crouch down behind the counter, sliding open a shelf, "I have some shiraz I've been meaning to break open, if you're up for it?" 

"Oh, that sounds great actually," he replies and you reappear with two wine glasses in your hand. You beam at him and he feels a thrill down his spine, recognizing the set you'd bought with him. "Great. Go sit in the living room and I'll be right there." 

"No, I'll help you get the stuff."

You pause your movements toward the liquor shelf, "Come on, I thought it was clear I'm not drunk by now."

"I know," Wonwoo walks closer to you, picking up the glasses you'd set down earlier, "Just want to be here with you." 

You turn back around and Wonwoo doesn't know it's to hide the flush that colors your face at his confession. You spend a minute too long picking out the shiraz to recover and you're glad Wonwoo also doesn't know that you could pick the bottle of red out without actually looking. 

"Geez, I've got sand in my feet now," you complain as you take your first sip of the wine from your glass when you catch sight of the particles lodged in your toes. 

"Sand?" questions Wonwoo as he leans over to get a look. 

"Yeah, it was a beach-themed party," you tell him. He nods, thinking that your outfit makes a lot more sense now. "Mingyu's a silly guy for someone who's turning twenty-five."

"Mingyu, huh?" Wonwoo tries out the name, watching out for how you react. You don't give away much, simply taking another sip but your chest burns for reasons other than alcohol. 

"Hmm, yeah." 

"So do you like him? Joshua seems pretty convinced about it."

You hide your face against the couch, "Fuck Joshua. He's an idiot." 

"So you've said."

"No, but really. Mingyu's a sweet guy and all, but he's… not my type."

Now this is something Wonwoo can work with, relief flooding his veins at your honest reply. "What is your type?"

You meet Wonwoo's gaze for the first time in this conversation and groan again. In your head, you can't help but be burdened by how unbelievably cliché your situation is. Your brother's best friend sitting next to you swirling a glass of red wine, asking you about the guy you liked when it was clearly him you liked. In fact, you think your entire relationship with Wonwoo's always been full of clichés: falling for his charm as a youth and growing into the feelings long after, hanging out with him as grown-ups, going on dates that are left unlabelled, measuring hands with him for fuck's sake– It was a little too on the nose, you think. 

But you don't tell Wonwoo any of this, maybe because you're too scared to or maybe you'd liked to see the plot thicken a little. "I don't have a type." 

Wonwoo is surprisingly quick to leave the topic alone after that and you're thankful, but half-irked because you'd hoped for more. But you can't complain when he has you wrapped up in a completely different conversation, distracting enough that you can barely remember how you finished the wine in your glass. 

"Want a refill?" he asks you when the empty glasses have been sitting on the coffee table for long enough. 

"Mhm, I think I'll have some apple juice instead."

"As you wish." 

He doesn't even bother asking you where you keep your juice and takes off with the glasses to the kitchen. You watch him keenly, letting your heart lead your mind for a little as you take in how cozy the night is when you're in Wonwoo's company.

It's with that uncontrollable giddy smile on your face that Wonwoo catches you. 

"Happy about something?" he asks, placing a cup with golden liquid in front of you and keeping his glass of wine next to it. 

"Yeah. About everything. I'm happy."

Wonwoo smiles, arm reaching to your side and squeezing your hand in a way that leaves you thinking that you might actually like physical touch more than you've been led to think. "I like the sound of that."

Your smile only turns goofier. "What about you? Are you happy?" 

He huffs out a breathy laugh, "I'm not too bad myself. Things have been looking up recently."

Fucking fuck, even everything you say to each other sounds like it's been said before, somewhere else in an idealistic movie about two people slowly falling in love with each other. But you can't get yourself to hate the idea so you simply shift closer to him. 

Wonwoo notices, obviously, and smiles a little because he notices the light dusting of red on your cheeks. Your hair's come undone from what was presumably a low bun at the back of your head and he has an itch to brush the strands away from your face– a thought that if you were privy to would only be an addition the list titled reasons why wonwoo and you are a straight-up cliché.

But you find out soon anyway, because Wonwoo acts on the itch, hand coming to cup your face before a few fingers find the crown of your head, gently tucking the stray hair behind your ear. 

You hum in satisfaction and Wonwoo's heart hammers, thinking that is probably the best reaction he could've hoped for. He takes a sip of the wine in his hand and moves to rest his face on his fist. 

Except you intercept him mid-way, closing the space between you with a noise of surprise that Wonwoo lets out when he feels your warm lips against his. The shock causes the wine in his mouth to bleed into yours, just like you'd hoped, and before Wonwoo can act on your advance, you've already pulled back.

Your smile is warm with shyness when you notice the starstruck expression on Wonwoo's face. "Sorry, I wanted to taste the wine." 

Wonwoo's silent as he processes this, moving slower thanks to the wine in his sytsem and now– the feeling of your kiss on his mind. When he does break from the silence, he moves to take another sip of wine and this time it's him crossing over to you, big palm steadying your jaw so he can spill into you, literally and not. You let out a little noise this time, not expecting him to reciprocate your shameless move but delighted anyway as you move against his mouth. 

There's a third kiss. And you pull away with a dreamy sigh because really, this was straight out of your dreams. Wonwoo rests his head on his hand like he'd intended to about three kisses earlier and watches as you avert your gaze, suddenly bashful. You fix your gaze on the coffee table, proud that you'd finally chosen to place it opposite the couch instead of near the bookshelf. 

"I haven't dated anyone for a while, you know," Wonwoo suddenly blurts out, your hair once again in your face when you turn to face him. "I was in a pretty… fucked-up relationship after high school and that made me give up on love altogether."

You listen attentively, eyes on his as he tells about the person he was with, voice dropping to a soft octave. When he finishes you find his hands with a smile, "Thank you for telling me that. And I'm sorry. You deserve so much better than that. You're a pretty solid guy."

"Really?" Wonwoo's mood turns light again at your comment and you try to maintain your composure, reminding yourself that his smile might be casual but your words still hold weight. 

"Yeah, you're a rare find, Wonwoo. Quiet but not boring, witty yet funny, tall but nice to hug." 

You bite your lip at that last part, clearly giving yourself away. But Wonwoo's eyes light up anyway, "Nice to hug, huh? That's a new compliment. Glad to know." 

You can feel him lean closer to you without looking because his voice is closer to your ears. Flustered, you reach for your abandoned apple juice and take a sip, but overestimate your own sobriety because you manage to spill a third of it on yourself. "Fuck," you curse under your breath and throw your head back against the couch in frustration over yourself. 

"Fuck," Wonwoo echoes you, shifting beside you, "You okay? Wait here, I'll get you a towel." He's already standing up by the time you have it in you to find your footing. You stop him with a slightly damp hand on his arm.

"It's okay, I'll just go throw this in the laundry. Needed to change anyway." 

Wonwoo nods as he makes way so you can pad lightly to your room, ears adorably red. He lets out a heavy breath when you close the door behind you though, placing a hand against chest because the sight of your half-exposed chest slightly wet with juice– well, it was doing more things to him that he'd like. Your low expletive followed by your limp body hadn't helped his wild imagination either, instantly wondering what it might be like to run his hands through– 

"All right, that's it. I need some fresh air." Fresh air so he could feel less like a pervert and more like… normal. And it helps to step out onto your balcony, the scenery of the moonlit night a pleasant surprise to his senses. He hums happily, almost forgetting about his preoccupied thoughts entirely.

And then he hears your voice resound in the living room faintly. He calls out your name, telling you to come out to the balcony, and a minute later, you step out, now clad in a cozy night set, matching blue shirt with shorts. "Hey," you mumble as you join him near the railing, body visibly relaxing in the night air. "Woah, it's nice here."

"It is, isn't it?" 

"Yeah, this is actually my first time coming out here since I moved in. I always figured this place would be full of spider webs and like bird shit." 

Wonwoo chuckles, "I mean we're probably standing on something that's not supposed to be here but it's for us to worry about tomorrow." 

– 

When you wake up the next morning, it takes you a good amount of groaning and screaming to figure out if last night was real. Taking shots with Mingyu at his birthday bash? Understandable. Receiving a call from a self-proclaimed tipsy Wonwoo? Confusing but not impossible. Inviting Wonwoo over for wine and ending up making out with him? Insane. 

What's worse, you couldn't really remember how the night had ended, a consequence of your inebriated self combining with sleep deprivation. But that was a pretty important thing to remember, wasn't it? It could be difference between a regretful farewell and a promising one. You don't know which one would ease the storm in your stomach faster. 

You roll over to unlock your phone and sit up when you see you have two unread texts. And then, you see they're both from Mingyu. 

mingyu: thanks for coming last night :D

mingyu: sorry i couldn't see u out. hope you made it home safe! 

You sigh in barely contained disappointment as you throw your phone back into the sheets, looking up at the ceiling. You suppose you ought to do something about the Mingyu situation soon but right now, you find the idea of suffocating in your bedsheets for the next two hours much more comforting. 

– 

See now, this right here is your problem. As much as you complained about hating being a cliché, you kind of wish your situation with Wonwoo was more of a cliché because right now doesn't exactly feel like something out of a film.

It feels like hard cold reality. And it's not the first time either.

1: things will happen between you and Wonwoo: he holds your hand, he kisses your lips.

2: he doesn't text you about it and you're too much of a coward to force him out of his shell.

3: things end up all in the air. And now, you're miserable.

But later that evening, you find out there's more to this list of not-so-cliché things that happen between you and Wonwoo.

4: you run into Wonwoo at your brother's place.

He's so casual, too, dressed in a plaid shirt and lounging on Joshua's couch, gaming his time away. You almost immediately regretting making an impromptu trip to your brother's place but it's too late to back out because Joshua's already set the dinner table for three. How you despise your extroverted, loving brother. 

"Did you make that deadline you were complaining about yesterday?" Joshua asks you over a spoonful of his soup. You nod, "Yeah, turns out it was easier when I stopped whining about it."

Wonwoo lets out a laugh, earning him a look from you which you quickly retract, going back to your quiet self when the two engage in conversation. You're glad to ignore but they find it less than easy to, given how unusual your disengagement is. Wonwoo does have an idea for your mood but he doesn't feel like discussing it with your brother just yet. 

So when Joshua asks him, "Do you know what's up with her?" when you excuse yourself to the bathroom, Wonwoo stiffens. Why was he asking Wonwoo? … Had he been obvious?

"Dunno. Maybe work's busy or something."

"You think I should go pester her with some ice-cream later tonight?" 

 "Best if you don't do that. She might disown you."

"That's like legally impossible, Wonwoo. Right?" 

When you take an unexpectedly long time in the bathroom, Joshua goes on. "Did something happen between you two?"

Again, Wonwoo tenses up. "...No. Why do you ask?"

"I mean, she seemed fine yesterday when she came over. So I don't think I'm the problem here. Not that I'm accusing you of anything. Just… I know y'all have been bonding recently."

Wonwoo averts his gaze, deeply uncomfortable with this chat. "Um, yeah, I guess."

"Listen, man, I don't mean to take on the older brother tone in this conversation or anything but…" Joshua sighs as he plays with a leftover piece of bread, "You know I'm okay if something does happen with you and her, right? I trust you. And well, she was an adult long before me so I hardly have a say there."

Wonwoo stares at his half-empty glass of water, frowning. "Okay, cool." His answer is curt because he's still caught off-guard by this conversation. He'd wanted to bring up the developments between you himself, in his own way, but this left him a little panicked. Like, he was being rushed to make a move. And his brain ended up shutting down in the process.

…but it really wasn't the best time for his malfunction, given that you'd managed to overhear a good half of that conversation, specifically on the Joshua asking Wonwoo about you and him being indifferent about it. What was he thinking? What were you thinking?

5: you storm out of dinner without an explanation. you pretend you don't hear wonwoo call after you when you do. his texts that night go unanswered. 

How's that for a cliché, huh?

– 

These days, you're trying find the joy in small things. Like waking up to your very first alarm for the morning. Or brewing an especially aromatic coffee at home. 

Like making it to the end of a phone-call with Karina without talking about Wonwoo. 

"Oh, wait, before I forget to ask, how did it go with Wonwoo?"

Almost. 

You take a deep breath to steady yourself, "Not too well. I mean, we kissed. But then, he didn't text me for like three days after. Then I run into him at Joshua's and he acts all… cold. And judging by that one conversation I overheard, he thinks everything that happened between us was a mistake." 

"Okay, okay, hold your horses, friend, I feel like a lot happened there. You kissed? Why is this the first I'm hearing of it?!" Karina sounds genuinely upset and you let out a groan.

"Well, I was trying to stop bringing up Wonwoo every time we catch up. It's annoying and I want to hear more about your life than complain about mine."

"We can both complain about our lives, Y/N. I have all the time in the world. At least till six. Anyway, that's besides the point! You kissed but he ghosted you afterward? And did he actually say he thought it was all a mistake?"

You bite your lip in rumination and then admit, "He didn't actually say that but it was implied. You would agree if you'd heard the same conversation as I!"

As it turns out, Karina doesn't seem to approve of the conclusion you've come to all on your own. But then you point out that it's been over a week and it's been radio silence. So you have every right to feel as hurt as you do. 

"I suppose you do. But still, it wouldn't hurt to approach him first." 

"I would rather die."

"Okay, well, maybe find out how he's doing from Joshua?"

"Will not."

"You're being difficult right now, Y/N. What do you want to do then?"

"I want to move on and not think about Wonwoo. Maybe I should go on a blind date or something."

"We're not in a movie right now, man, plus, I'm pretty sure you were the one who swore your life to finding love organically and whatnot."

"...Gah, I was hoping you'd forgotten about that. Fine, I'll do… something." 

Your words are nothing if not misleading because by something, you don't mean to communicate with Wonwoo like a sane person might. Instead you check up on Mingyu, who you've still been succesfully making small talk at work with, and ask him if he wanted to get dinner. The enthusiasm with which he responds is comforting, a relieving contrast from the tension in your relationship with you-know-who. 

mingyu: omg i woud love to

mingyu: but im unfortuntely busy tonight :((((

mingyu: would you be down for tomorrow? i can make some killer spaghetti if given the opportunity

you: make???? i was thinking of buying the food… but i won't turn that offer down

mingyu: i'm a man of many talents ;) 

You work out the details of the date (neither of you call it that, but it's understood to be one) over the night and you feel a little uneasy as the afternoon of the day comes to a close. Either way, you find a comfortable dress that is flattering against your skin and welcome Mingyu into your place, letting his excitement work its contagious magic. 

If you're following the plot line of this story closely, you'd figure out that the next cliché is this: Wonwoo behind the door across from your home, just now learning about this date of yours with Mingyu. 

He's broken his pledge to himself and asked Joshua about you, after having missed seeing you there for the past week. Joshua had hesitated to respond but is honest anyway, muttering, "I think she has a date over."

"A date?" is Wonwoo instantaneous question, barely-concealed dread underlying in its tone. 

"Yeah, remember that guy from work whose birthday she attended?" Joshua pretends to have forgotten his name but his best friend is quick to chime in, "Mingyu?"

But you'd told him he was just a friend. You'd called him sweet for fuck's sake, and that was the most platonic adjective you could use for a potential love interest. Well, he's been proven wrong by your date tonight.

He looks down at his clasped palms, the same ones that were intertwined with your skin, first the skin of your hands, then your cheek when he'd leaned into kiss you. And if he hadn't spent the last four days regretting every minute he didn't call you up, he sure did want to punch a hole in the fabric of time right about now. 

"You okay there, buddy?" 

Joshua's concern brings Wonwoo back to his body and he looks up, lips pursed and your brother thinks how ridiculous it is that both of you won't just talk it out. But he keeps that judgement to himself, choosing to sit back and watch his best friend pace it out. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Fine. Really fine. I'm okay." He clears his throat, the first tell. "I'm just… um, a little hot. It's hot in here, huh." 

Joshua tames his bemused smile. "Is it? I just turned up the air-con though?"

"Oh, well, it's just me then. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah, um, I love this video game."

"Wonwoo, we were in the middle of choosing a card game to play."

"Fuck. Okay, sorry, just give me a minute, I need to go call… my mother."

"No worries, my guy, give Mrs. Jeon my greetings!" 

Across the hall, you're busy watching over Mingyu as he makes his way around your kitchen. You say watching over because really, the man is so clumsy in his own feet, you wonder how he's lived this long. You have to make sure he doesn't cut a limb off every two seconds.

But then your phone buzzes urgently in your pocket and you pull it out, the light smile playing on your face falling when Wonwoo's name pops up on your screen. Now he texts you?

wonwoo: hey! you think we could talk?

You lock your screen almost as soon as you read the message because honestly, you don't have time to dwell over this man in your phone when there's a whole another person cooking you dinner in front of you. That's what ends up leaving a heartbroken Wonwoo, slumped on Joshua's couch as he barely zones into the movie that was playing on the screen. 

Joshua's had it with sitting around when Wonwoo stays unmoving throughout the ending credits– the man hates the credits for crying out loud!-- and instead decides to play cupid. It wasn't ideal, having to set up his sister with his best friend but well, any commoner could see how clearly you were meant to be with each other and he'd rather not have to listen to both sides' misery. 

It's okay timing, you've finished eating dinner with Mingyu, showering his food with compliments the whole time and flustering with your genuine shock at his abilities the whole night. He's helping you clean up with a cheeky grin on his face whenever he leans in a little too close to place a utensil back in its place and you let a smile overtake your face. But you can barely let yourself enjoy the date because if Wonwoo ill-timed text wasn't enough, you're done for when both him and Joshua show up at your door.

"What the fuck?" you ask your brother because you're positive you told him you had a date tonight and then you spot a spaced out Wonwoo next to him, and suddenly put two and two together. 

Wonwoo's eyes never leave your figure, taking in how beautiful the blue dress you were wearing was and how you'd put your hair up in a half-bun, a few strands framing your face prettily. He feels sick, first in a good way and then Mingyu pops up behind you, and now Wonwoo's sick in a bad way. The tall man looks so comfortable next to you, arm brushing against yours as he raises his eyebrows in confusion at the two intruders.

"Sorry, Gyu, these are…" you start to introduce them as they are and then, find a particularly provoking way to put it, "...my brothers."

Wonwoo might actually throw up right here and right now. Gyu? Brothers???

Joshua butts in quickly, "Well, technically, I'm Y/N's older brother, and this is Wonwoo, my friend."

"Ohhh," Mingyu nods in understanding, bowing when he realizes Joshua's your sibling, "Nice to meet you. I'm Mingyu and I work with Y/N."

Before you know it, Joshua works his charms on Mingyu and suddenly, date night for two turns into family night for four. You watch in dismay as your date spends a full hour talking to your brother about one thing and another, actually considering setting them up for a minute. And then, Mingyu glances at his watch and sighs, telling you he needs to take off. 

Joshua, devil incarnate, offers to walk Mingyu out and before you can protest, Mingyu accepts (????) and you watch helplessly as your brother leaves you alone with Wonwoo, narrowly missing the pointed look Joshua sends his best friend on his way out. 

The room now silent with them gone, you stand up with a wary sigh, patting down your dress. Wonwoo's watching and you know because the first words he says that evening are, "You look beautiful tonight."

You hate how the heat creeps up your neck immediately at his beck and call. But you keep from telling him off because even that would mean you caving in. 

But then he follows you to the kitchen, steps in tandem as you pretend to busy yourself with the dishes. The space between you is small though and you end up bumping into the man trying to reach for the fridge. He takes the chance and holds your wrist in his hand. "Hey," he breathes, "You won't even look at me?" 

"No, I've seen enough."

"I'm assuming that includes the text I sent you tonight. And the ones before that?"

God, you hate how good Wonwoo is at frustrating you. You snap, "Don't act like this is on me, Wonwoo. You're the one who pretends like nothing's happened between us." 

"Really? Because a lot's happened between us, Y/N. A lot of things that haven't happened with you and that Mingyu." 

You scoff, brushing his hand off your wrist. "That is so typical of you. Coming around because you're jealous? But you can't stand to tell my brother something happened between us? What is this, a game to you?"

Wonwoo freezes when he considers what you've said. "Did Shua say something to you?"

You cross your arms, "No. I overheard you telling him. I can't believe it though. I really thought we had something good going for us."

You break away from the arm that Wonwoo raises to keep you close and throw yourself onto your couch with an exasperated sniffle. This couch sure has seen a lot, you think wistfully, silently listening as Wonwoo's footsteps came closer. He's sitting next to you then, hesitant arm around you.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, I'm really sorry. What you heard was… me being an idiot. I wasn't ready to talk about it with Shua so soon. I meant everything happened so fast. I hadn't exactly planned on falling for my best friend's sister, you know? Or kissing her in her apartment either. But it happened and I'm so glad it did. I was just slow at processing it. I'm sorry."

You groan. "It's not completely your fault, I guess. I just wish you would've talked to me about it. I felt so alone the whole time." 

Suddenly Wonwoo's moving up from next to you and dropping onto his knees so that you're now meeting his eyes. He looks concerned, mouth ajar as he takes your hands in his. "Are you with Mingyu?"

You let out a sound of disbelief, "No! I'm– I just called him over because I was mad at you! I thought you thought it was a mistake so I…"

"I don't. And I never did. I'm just scared. But I shouldn't have made that your problem. I love hanging out with you though and I especially love kissing you. It would be great if you'd let me take you out on a date instead, please?" 

And in that moment with Wonwoo on his knees in front of you, looking at you like you'd just told him he would live forever, you don't think you could do anything but say yes. 

– 

"You think we're a cliché?!" 

You flinch at Wonwoo's shocked question after you'd revealed to him the mental list of clichés that you embodied in your relationship with him. He's nearly seething when he finds out you're not joking. 

"Y/N, you know that's the meanest thing you could ever say to me? Am I really that bad a boyfriend?"

"Woo, my love, will you calm down?" you take one of his hands in yours, "I don't think clichés are as bad as you think they are. They're cliché for a reason! It's because they're meant to be done over and over again. They're tried and true."

"Tried and trite, more like."

"Come on, Woo, you can't act like you don't see it! From the very beginning!" 

He takes a lick at his gelato and you smile when you see him softening a little. You stop walking and stand in his way, barely concerned about the strangers littering the small ice-cream shop when you press a kiss to his lips. "I love you," you mumble against his ice-cold mouth. He shoots you a look that informs you that he knows what you're doing but he shoots back, " I love you, too."

"And love itself is cliché, don't you think?"

Wonwoo closes his eyes as if in physical pain while you uncontrollably laugh. "I knew I shouldn't have fallen for that! You're trying to make me cry in public, aren't you?"

"Aww, it's okay to cry, Woo, baby. Emotions are only natural–"

"I'm calling Shua and asking him to pick you up. I'm leaving."

"Okay, I went too far. Don't make me commute with my brother, I beg you."

– 

"Love, you ready to go?" you hear Wonwoo ask from the living room. You'd banished him to the couch after he'd made it his life mission to get in your way while you tried to get ready for your date. Well, double date actually. Karina was visiting you on break with her boyfriend, Taeyong, and she'd asked if you'd be down to get dinner with them. You had never agreed to dinner plans faster. 

"I am," you call back, just as you smear on lipstick, checking your teeth for any missed food particles for good measure. "Can I come in now?" 

You can see Wonwoo's silhouette at the door, gingerly watching you from the back for confirmation. You melt with a soft smile, beckoning him in, "Yes. Your exile's over."

Wonwoo celebrates with an exaggerated fist pump and you laugh at his antics when he skips over excitedly. "I'm a free man," he murmurs as his hands naturally slide down your arms to find your fingers. He twirls you around, admiring the black dress you broke out for the ocassion. "You look gorgeous," he says with a kiss to your cheeks.

"Are you quoting Taylor Swift at me?" you ask him with a giggle.

"Who's that?" he questions with a poorly feigned frown of confusion. You roll your eyes but open your arms invitingly, "Will you hug me?" 

Hugging had gradually become your favorite part of your skinship with Wonwoo, even more so than kissing, because the way he would shoot you a loving smile before wrapping his arms around and swallowing you into a world of cozy and comfort… yeah, you don't think anything could compare easily. Sometimes, he would hum happily, the vibrations would only soothing you into the embrace further and often your boyfriend had to peel you off him so you could actually get on with your day. 

Today, he lets you cling on longer than usual (he likes to say he's rationing his hugs. You tell him he's just a big tease), probably because he's busy relishing in being overwhelmed by your scent and the little kisses you sprinkle across his exposed neck. When he pulls away, you don't complain like normal, instead revealing the stars in your eyes to him. "You're warm. I love this sweater of yours." 

It was the same navy sweater that had you sweating over Wonwoo back when you were still going back and forth with your feelings for each other. He chuckles in amusement and then steps away without warning, earning a whine from you. But then he tugs the sweater off and your expressions turns playful. 

"Woo," you start warningly, "you know we're meeting them at the restaurant by nine–"

You're stopped mid-sentence when Wonwoo straightens out his garment and commands out, "Raise your arms for me, baby?"

But this is not his bedroom voice, no, no. This is his sappy voice and you already know what he's doing when he pulls the sweater over your head and down your torso. "It looks cute," Wonwoo comments by the time you have the sleeves pulled down properly. 

"You know I hate that word, Woo," you complain but he doesn't let you, pecking your forehead. You sigh in defeat and admire the sweater in the mirror, the fabric sitting surprisingly well against the skirt of your dress. You shrug, "I suppose I can work with this new outfit."

"If not, I can always just take it off for you–"

"Okay, we're leaving before you say another word!" 

Wonwoo laughs as he lets you pull him out after you, out the living room and into the hallway. He stands next to you, hands in his pocket while he waits for you to lock the door and glances at Joshua's door, wondering what his best friend was up to. You don't give a chance to do something about it though because your hands back on his arm in no time – and he swears you touch his arm for reasons beyond appropriate but you'd rather die than admit to it– and walk into the night. 

You meet Karina at a place called Love in the Air and Wonwoo's had listen to you go on, super smug, about how beautifully cliché the name and ambience of the restaurant is. Each dish has a romantic origin, like the shall I compare thee to a summer's day cocktail that Karina and Taeyong share, down to the lipstick-shaped bottles of wine served to your table. And as much as Wonwoo pretends to hate the cliché of love, he still orders the matching Valentine's soup as you just so you can watch his order come out in surprise. 

And as much as Wonwoo pretends he doesn't love the cliché of love, when you lean into his arm at the end of the night, already dozing off when he runs his fingers through your scalp, he can't help but let his heart soar with affection for you. And he thinks he would, after all, be in a cliché if it means to end up in your arms night after night. 

--

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

hiii oh my god why is this fic actually long!!! i wrote in like a day too so i'm just confused... it was 3k a minute and then 29 pages the other?? that's just wonwoo magic or smth i guess... this was requested and i hope the anon who asked for this enjoys it!!! writing it made a lil sick because of how sappy it is but ... it is what it is.

and consider this me admitting that i wouldn't mind having joshua be my brother... and that's just the flavor of parasocial relationship i'm dealing with these days lol

as always: lots of love to all friends and foes !!

[sluttywonwoo]

congratulations on 12k, so well deserved!! I absolutely love love loveeee your account and the way you’re writing ! Wishing you all the best 🩷

can i request “you better watch your fucking mouth” with mingyu ??

you’re used to getting your way with your boyfriend. so when things don’t go how you want them to, you turn into a little bit of a brat.

in your defense, how can you be at fault when mingyu always so readily gives you what you want? almost always, that is.

you haven’t said a word to him the entire time he’s fucked you. you’re trying your best not to make any sounds either. it’s petty but you know mingyu loves to hear how good he makes you feel so therefore you can’t give him the satisfaction.

you’re caught off guard when he grabs you and flips you onto your back, accidentally squeaking out a “fuck!” as he slides back into you. curse your boyfriend and his big stupid cock.

“oh, so she does speak,” mingyu sneers.

“she does, on the rare occasion she actually feels something down there,” you shoot back, tilting your chin up at him in defiance.

wow, that was bold even for you. oh well.

“you better watch your fucking mouth,” he growls.

“or what?”

his hand is on your throat before you can finish calling his bluff, making your eyes roll to the back of your head as he starts to apply pressure.

he opens his mouth to say something else, probably to argue some more, but then laughs instead.

“oh baby,” he chuckles, causing you to squint up at him in confusion. you thought you had the upper hand but he sounds so…. condescending right now. “you might not want to tell me how i’m making you feel… but your body can’t lie.” he pauses again to smirk at you, flashing his canines. “you just got so wet when i started choking you. it’s cute.”

“shut. up.”

he leans down, so close your noses are nearly touching. “why? afraid me talking down to you will send you over the edge? i know it will, angel. i’m counting on it.”

12k celebration

[mackenzielovee]

parenthood part twenty three: forever & always, and then some

a/n: oh boy! 12k words to (hopefully) feed your parenthood craving. i am already dying to know what you all think of this, so please don't hesitate to hop into the comments or my ask box to talk! hope you enjoy! reblogs are appreciated :)

warnings: angst warning. swearing, verbal arguments, anxiety, panic attack, crying, kissing

ambivalence masterlist , parenthood masterlist

     The Island Club hasn’t changed one bit since you were employed here and running drinks around to Rafe and his friends before you knew he even had a crush on you. As you watch the waitresses make their rounds to the same customers, serving the same food to the same tables, you chuckle to yourself at the thought of ever having to deal with that again. 

Scott sits across from you, fidgeting in his seat slightly as he holds himself back from pulling a cigarette from his pocket. You skim over him, taking in his appearance. 

His hair is freshly cut and the rosiness is back in his cheeks after having disappeared for so long. He’s eating three meals a day again, and to you, it seems his only unhealthy habit is smoking. In time, you’re sure he will move past that. 

“How’re the kids?” he asks, looking up at you. 

“They’re good,” you reply, “They’re busy bees lately. Connor is starting on a soccer team, so Rafe’s been helping him practice.”

“That’s awesome,” Scott grins, and the sight makes you smile, “Kid always has had one hell of a kick. What about Josie girl?”

You chuckle, “She’s all about dance, recently. She wants me to sign her up for a class, and I’ve been trying to get this teacher to call me back about getting her in.”

“Wow. Good for her. She’s so driven, Y/N. They both are.”

“Yeah, they’re something,” you laugh. 

He gives you a smile, but it fades fast before he asks, “And, Rafe?” 

“He’s doing really well. He’s less stressed at work, and he’s spending a lot of time with the kids.”

Scott nods, “Is he still… y’know? Pissed at me?”

You sigh and look down at your lap, unwilling to respond right away. Rafe’s feelings toward Scott have been complicated ever since he showed up to the house and scared the shit out of you and the kids, even though you’ve worked through it and have encouraged Rafe to do the same. Your loyalty to your brother runs deeper than Rafe’s does — because, as he puts it, he will always choose the safety and security of his family. Especially his children. 

“He’s not pissed, Scott,” you say carefully. 

“Right, he’s just done with me,” he laughs dryly, “Look, it’s fine, Y/N. I get it.”

You nod, and when your waiter drops your plates in front of you, you’re relieved when Scott eats his meal and has several glasses of water. 

He tells you about the new job he just started and how he’s finally, officially, cut ties with Mae after she’s yanked him around for over a year. How he’s attending regular AA meetings and actually participating in them. He’s even made a few friends in the group, and they go out to eat together after their meetings to keep themselves busy. 

By the time he pays for your lunch and walks you out to your car, you can’t help but pull him into a tight embrace. He hugs you back and gives you a wide smile, silently telling you that he really is doing better. 

“So, listen, I was kinda hoping I could see them soon,” he says, clarifying, “The kids.”

You know you should run it by Rafe first, but the look in Scott’s eye and the pride swelling in your heart at his improvement has you answering faster than you should. 

“That would be great,” you nod. 

He smiles, “Perfect. How about Wednesday afternoon? I don’t have to be at work ‘til six. Do they have sports or anything?”

You hold up a finger and check the calendar on your phone, finding nothing for yourself or either of the kids on Wednesday after they get home from school. 

“Wednesday works,” you reply, “I’ll bring them to your apartment.”

“Awesome,” he beams, then pulls you in for another hug, “Thank you so much, Y/N. I can’t wait.”

“The kids will be very excited,” you tell him, squeezing him tight. 

He laughs lightly, sounding like himself and making you relax even more. He’s finally in a better place, and you couldn’t be happier about it. 

Scott opens your car door for you and then closes it once you’re inside. He stands there and watches as you back out, then offers you a wave before you drive away. You smile the whole way home, thankful beyond belief that your brother is doing right by himself and improving his life where he needs it. 

     When you get home, Rafe is in the kitchen. You smile at the sight of him at the stove, stirring peppers around a skillet and listening to music. You can hear the kids playing in the playroom, and when Rafe notices you come in, he steps away from the food and to you. 

“Hey, baby, how was lunch?” he asks, helping you remove your jacket. 

“It was good,” you say with a smile, “Club hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Nah, I figured as much.”

He hangs up your jacket and your purse for you, then steps back over and guides his arm around your waist. You smile and set your hands on his chest, feeling his warmth. 

“How are the kids?” you ask him. 

“Josie hid Connor’s firetruck underneath the couch, and Bo got it,” he fills you in, watching your eyes pop in horror, “He was very distraught.”

“Oh, no, poor baby,” you pout, “I’ll see if I can find another one for him tomorrow.”

Rafe grins, “You’re so good to them, they don’t even know it.”

You laugh and grab ahold of his chin lightly, pulling him down to give him a kiss. He accepts it, then offers you a small apology as he momentarily breaks away to pull the skillet off the heat and to the back burner. 

When he moves back to you, assuming the same position, you swallow your nervousness of breaching the topic, and instead, slip your hands under his shirt. 

“So, listen,” you start, “Scott got a job. He’s working nights right now, and he goes after his AA meetings. He seems really, really good.”

He nods patiently, but you can tell by his eyes that he’s not receptive whatsoever to where you’re going to take this conversation. 

“That’s good,” he replies, his voice even. 

“Yeah, it is,” you say hopefully, rising up on your tiptoes, “So, anyway, he was asking if he could see the kids on Wednesday before he has to work.”

Rafe raises a brow, “And what did you tell him?”

You swallow again and press your palms into his skin, hoping your touch will lighten him up.

“Well, I… I think it’s a good idea. It would be good for him, and the kids miss him.”

Rafe’s chest deflates against your hands, and only because you know him so well can you predict what he’s going to say next. 

“Look, sweetheart, I’m thrilled that Scott is doing better. I am. I just don’t think this is the best time for that. Josie’s still adjusting to school, and Connor’s getting settled in a new classroom and he’s on a sports team. I feel like they have enough change going on right now, you know?”

You nod slowly, but look to the floor. He covers your hands with his own and takes them, bringing both of your knuckles up to his lips to kiss. You meet his eyes then, and you both take a second to analyze the other person’s expression. 

“It’s not really a change, though,” you push, keeping your voice light, “It’s just Scott.”

“Y/N, Scott scared the shit out of both of them when he showed up drunk.”

“I know, but he apologized for that,” you reply. 

Rafe drops your hands, “That doesn’t make it okay. To be honest, I’m just not comfortable with it. I need more time to work through things with him. I’m sorry, but can we please table this for now?”

You move to speak up, but bite your tongue at the very last second when one specific thought hits you. If you told Rafe you weren’t comfortable with something, he’d never fight with you on it. He would never pressure you into anything, and the thought of doing that to him makes your stomach turn. 

“Yes, of course,” you answer, “Thank you for being straight with me. We can talk about it when you’re ready.”

Rafe shifts and sets one large palm on your hip bone, where he pulls your body closer to his. 

“I’m not saying no, sweetheart. I’m just saying that I’d like to give it a little more time and make sure Scott really sticks to this change before we bring the kids back into it. That’s all.”

You nod and offer him a smile, “I understand, Rafe. I think that’s perfectly reasonable.”

“Thank you,” he says sweetly, “Now, Connor and I are making a grocery store run. Need anything?”

You step closer, “Coffee. And laundry pods for the washer. But not the blue and white ones—”

“The green and yellow ones, I know,” he teases, “I also put a stick of deodorant on the list for you, considering you went to throw it in the garbage this morning and fuckin’ banked the shot.”

“Excuse me,” you scoff, even though your heart swells at the fact that he not only noticed that, but also remembered it and put it on the list, “We need more bananas, too. You know what Josie’s like when we run out of those for her lunch.”

He laughs, “Yeah. Okay. Bananas, coffee, and laundry pods. I’ve got the rest of the list, but text me if you remember anything okay?”

“Okay,” you smile, “Thanks, handsome.”

He nods and signals for a kiss, grinning when you stand up on your tiptoes to give to him. When you pull back, he yells for Connor, knowing Josie will come running, too. 

“Oh, hey, did that lady ever call you back about Josie’s dance class?” he asks. 

“No,” you groan, “I’m hoping she will in the next few days. Otherwise, I’ll look somewhere else. I just heard that place is so good, I really wanted her to try it out.”

He shrugs, “She’ll be great anywhere. Come on, Connor! Shoes and jacket, hurry!”

He kisses you again quickly before he pulls away to get his own shoes and jacket, finishing in record time so he could steal just a few more kisses before the Sunday chores officially start. 

     Monday comes before you know it, and it brings a wave of destruction. Your meetings all get delayed, your work project is put on suspension, and Rose is driving you crazy about an upcoming event that you’re not even technically assigned to. 

Even more than that, Josie had a day. She refused to let go of you when you dropped her off at preschool, and after you managed to escape, they called you twice and Rafe once to report that she would not stop crying and demanding one of you to come get her. Being the parent at home on Mondays, Rafe picked her up, and she sat with him in his home office for the remainder of the day. 

     Tuesday morning finds you easier. You’re seated at your desk and fire up your work email after dropping both kids off at school — Josie did better today — when you realize that you never told Scott that the plans for tomorrow are off. 

You draft up a text message slowly over the next few hours, trying to sound equal parts assertive and sympathetic. At one o’clock, right before you send the text, your drafting is interrupted by a phone call. The nurse at Connor’s school tells you that he’s been running a fever and complaining of a stuffy nose and sore throat since before lunch. You sigh and agree to be right there to get him, then hit send on the text to Scott without thinking twice about it. 

     You return home with both Connor and Josie behind you. Well, Josie walks behind you while Connor lays in your arms, mumbling softly about how he feels cold despite his fever being high. Josie helps you the best she can to get Connor settled in his room, where you lay him in bed and put a light blanket over him, then get him a cup of water and take his temperature once more. It’s still high, so you give him a kiss and tell him to sleep for a bit before you come back up to check on him. 

“Is Connor okay, Mommy? Can we make him some soup?” Josie asks as the two of you slip out of his bedroom. 

You smile and pick her up, giving her a hug since you didn’t get to when you picked her up from school. 

“We should make him some soup,” you agree, “And, I’m sure you’re ready for your after-school snack, too.”

She grins mischievously, “Maybe.”

You laugh and carry her downstairs to the kitchen, where your phone sits on the counter. The screen fills with unanswered texts, so you set Josie down and grab it, scrolling through the messages. 

The first one you open is Rafe’s chain. Two from him — both exactly what you expected them to be. 

Just got a notification you checked Connor out of school? Is everything okay? 

I’ve got a meeting in half an hour but I can come home after if you need me. 

You look over at Josie, watching as she uses the handle on the bottom oven as a balance beam for ballet. Your heart squeezes, and you make a mental note to reach out to other dance studios in the area tomorrow. 

Quickly, you text Rafe back while stepping over to the pantry to get Josie a snack. 

He’s sick, but okay. Slight fever and head cold. Nothing to worry about. Good luck on your meeting, handsome. I love you. 

He returns the sentiment quickly, while also reminding you to call him if things change. Then, as you pour animal crackers into a bowl, you switch over to Scott’s text chain. 

First, you reread the text you sent to him. 

Hey, so I discussed things with Rafe, and we have decided to hold off on allowing the kids to come over. For now. We think it’s best to give you some more adjustment time, and then we can revisit the idea. I’m sorry, Scott. But, I will try to do better by sending you more pics of them. Just hang in there. Love you. 

You know it’s not perfect, but it has to do. It gets your point across, it doesn’t blame Rafe, and it’s sugar coated just enough for him. 

His reply follows your message, and the length looks drastically different. 

Y/N, I’m adjusted. I just want to see them. Didn’t you tell Rafe I’m doing better? Why is he keeping them from me?

“Mommy!” Josie calls, standing at the kitchen window, “There’s a red bird on the fence!” 

You frown at Scott’s text but lock your phone, then carry Josie’s snack over to her. You look out the window to where she’s pointing and find the cardinal that’s holding her attention so well. 

“Wow, beautiful, huh?” you ask, and she nods before you say, “Okay, come on. Let’s sit at the table and have a snack.”

She obeys and sits in her usual seat at the table, smiling widely when you follow her. You sit with her while she eats and talk to her about her day at school, listening intently even as she tells you the same story for ten entire minutes. 

You perk up when you hear the front door close. You know Rafe wouldn’t be coming into the house with his meeting coming up, and a fresh wave of worry passes through your body. 

“Y/N?”

You relax when you hear Scott’s voice, but only for a second. He knows he’s not allowed to come to the house; you had talked Rafe out of taking Scott’s key from him after his latest episode. 

Josie, like you, recognises the voice, and practically tips her chair right over as she attempts to get up. 

“Uncle Scott!” 

Her scream is loud, and she takes off from the kitchen before you can stop her. You groan internally, scrambling to already try and figure out what you’re going to say to Rafe. Despite it all, you follow Josie out of the kitchen and to the foyer, where she is currently diving into Scott’s open arms. 

“Hey, lovebug,” he grins widely, “Wasn’t sure you’d be home from school yet. I’m so happy to see you!”

She locks herself around his neck and presses kiss after kiss to his cheek, laughing when he laughs. 

“I’ve missed you,” she tells him, “Where have you been?”

He smiles sadly, then returns her kisses with his own, “I’ve been getting myself together. For you and Connor. Are you proud of me?”

“Yes,” she giggles, “Want to have an after school snack with me?”

His smile at her question tells you just how much the question means to him, and when he looks over at you for approval, you just can’t say no. Not to Scott; not to your baby brother who has struggled so much for so long, and just needs a little bit of love to keep him going. You can’t fault him for that, and no part of you is able to even consider kicking him out. Even if it’s not what you and Rafe have discussed and agreed on, you hope that when you explain, he will understand. 

You nod your head, and he turns and kisses her cheek again, like he just can’t help himself. 

“I would love to,” he agrees. 

Scott carries her into the kitchen and you follow. He sets her down and lets her run over to her chair, but he hangs back just long enough to talk to you. 

“I’m sorry, I just came over to talk about your text. I didn’t think she’d be here—”

“It’s fine,” you reply, waving him off, “Connor’s home sick from school, so I picked her up because I can’t leave him to go get her later.”

He nods, “Do you need me to bring you anything for him? Soup? Gatorade?”

“No, I have it covered,” you reply, “Go. She’s waiting so patiently for you.”

He chuckles when he sees her sitting on her knees in the chair, waving him over with an animal cracker half shoved into her mouth. Without hesitation, he rushes over and takes a seat beside her, stealing one of her animal crackers and laughing when she protests. 

You puff out your cheeks and check the time, wondering if you can squeeze in a quick call to Rafe before his meeting. When you decide you can’t, you set your phone back down. You’re here, you’re supervising, and he won’t be mad, you tell yourself. Scott can’t do anything wrong with you here, too. 

Your phone’s sharp ring draws you out of your head. When you look to see who’s calling, you gasp and practically pounce on the phone — the dance school that you’ve been trying to get Josie into. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mrs. Cameron?”

“Yes,” you reply. 

“Hi there. My name is Chelsea, I’m calling to see if you are still interested in signing your daughter, Josephine, up for dance class?”

“Yes,” you say enthusiastically, waving to Scott and then holding up your finger as you step into the living room, “Yes, I am. She’s really excited to start.”

“Oh, wonderful. We actually have an opening today in our three o’clock class. It’s only one spot, but if you could bring her by today, I can almost guarantee it would be hers.”

You freeze, “Today?”

“Yes ma’am. Spots here tend to go fast, but I saw your last name, and we wanted to offer you and your daughter the spot, first.”

“Oh,” you say, brain running a mile a minute as you try to figure out how to make this all work out, “Um, yes, thank you, we’d love the spot. I just have a few things to work out, but I will do my best to get her there by three o’clock. Does she need to bring anything?”

“We’ll just do a trial run for today, so we have everything she will need here. If you all are interested in continuing after today, we can give you a list of everything she will need for future classes.”

You barely even hear her words, too busy trying to figure out how you’re supposed to be in two places at once. You want Josie to be in this dance school desperately, but with Connor being so sick, you don’t know how to make it happen. 

“Thank you, I’ll try to work it out and have her there at three,” you say, trying to sound more chipper than you are, “Thank you so much for calling.”

“Yes ma’am. See you soon!”

You disconnect the call and let out a long sigh, having wanted that phone call to come at a better time than just now. You wander back into the kitchen and find Scott and Josie still giggling at the kitchen table, and when they both look over at you, you offer a smile. 

“Who was that?” Scott asks. 

You give Josie a smile, “It was the dance studio I’ve been trying to get Josie into. They have an opening for this afternoon.”

“No way!” she exclaims, “Mommy, we have to go!”

Scott can see it on your face before you can even say a word. He watches as you subconsciously glance back over your shoulder, desperate to check on Connor and not sure what to do. Under normal circumstances, you’d call Rafe — at least to just talk it out. But with him in a meeting and unavailable, you don’t have that option. 

“I can take her,” Scott volunteers, “I know you won’t leave Connor, so let me take her to dance. Just there and back, I promise.”

“Yes!” Josie screams, “Yes, yes, yes, yes, Mommy, yes!”

You shake your head, “Scott—”

“Y/N, let me help you out,” he says, “Come on. I can do it.”

“Mommy,” Josie repeats, “I want Uncle Scott to take me to dance.”

“Scott,” you whisper, “You’re not even supposed to be here.”

“And you’re drowning,” he points out, “I swear. I can totally handle it. I’ll even video the whole thing for you. Please, come on, let me prove myself to you. To Rafe.”

At the mention of your husband, your eyes find your phone. You want to call him more than anything, but you can’t. Then, you think about the agreement amongst parents when they’re raising children together. There are so many split second decisions that a parent has to make, so they trust that their partner will make the right one. Rafe trusts that you will make the right decision for your shared children, and right now, you can only see one. 

“Okay,” you sigh. Josie’s squeals interrupt you and Scott grins, grabbing her from her chair as you add, “Just there and back. No ice cream, no playground. Just to the studio and back, alright?”

“Alright,” Scott repeats back, still smiling, “We’re gonna have so much fun, right, lovebug?”

“Right!” she squeals.

“Josie, go get your shoes, okay?” you say, watching her nod feverishly, like she just can’t wait for Scott to put her down so they can go to dance. 

“Okay!” she says quickly, rushing off. 

Scott laughs as he watches her go, and when he turns back to you, his expression falls. 

“I need you to take extensive notes,” you say sternly, watching his smile grow once more. 

“You got it,” he replies. 

You allow yourself to smile, too, and he pulls you into a hug. He squeezes his thankfulness into you, and only pulls away when Josie returns with her shoes. 

     You hurry upstairs to check on Connor after putting Josie in her car seat and into Scott’s truck. As you feel Connor’s forehead, he stirs and groans, but he still feels very warm. 

“Mama?” he whispers into the air. 

“Hey, baby,” you reply, “How do you feel?”

“Not good,” he whines, “I’m cold. And I need a tissue.”

You grab the box from his nightstand and offer him one, then help him sit up. He blows his nose and hands the tissue back to you, then lays back down. 

“Go back to sleep. I’ll bring you some more medicine in a little bit, okay?”��

He nods. His lower lip juts out in the pout he always gives you when he’s sick, so you lean down and kiss his forehead before you stand. You retuck his blanket around him, then use careful steps to escape the dark room. 

Downstairs, you hurry into the kitchen and start heating up from soup for Connor, then pour out the next dose of his medicine. You make him a nice tray of everything so he can eat in bed; complete with crackers, a water bottle, and his iPad so he can watch a show while he eats. Just as you’re putting the finishing touches on it, ready to take it upstairs and check on him again, your phone buzzes on the counter. And buzzes. And buzzes. 

Scott’s contact picture lights up your screen, and you furrow your brows as you check the time. They should just be getting to the dance studio, and you wonder if someone had questions for him that he couldn’t answer. 

“Hello?” you say innocently. 

“Y/N,” he sighs, almost in relief, but his voice also holds another emotion, too, “Listen, don’t freak out.”

You freeze, “What? Why?”

The worst possible scenarios go through your brain instantly, and you begin to listen for signs of Josie in the background. Her laugh, her whine at Scott to hurry up. 

“Just let me get it all out, first,” he demands, then groans in pain, “Fuck, okay, we got into an accident. Josie is fine. Not hurt at all. I think I broke my arm, so I’m in an ambulance. They’re taking both of us to the hospital, but she’s right here, she’s good, she’s with me.”

You suddenly can’t suck in a deep breath. All you can picture is Josie in the back of an ambulance, hurt. Josie in a car accident. Josie being scared because she doesn’t understand what’s happening. 

Tears blur your vision just at the thought of her being alone, and the inhale that you try to suck in is sharp and quick. 

“Let me speak to her,” you choke out. 

Scott sighs but complies with your request, and you listen to their muffled voices before you get clarity. 

“Mommy, Uncle Scott is hurt,” she tells you, and just the sound of her voice brings relief to your body, mind, and heart. 

“Josie, baby, are you okay?” you ask her, letting the tears run without a care in the world. 

“Yes, Mommy. They let me put the siren on.”

You laugh, then cry again, “Oh, that’s awesome. Listen, Mommy’s gonna come pick you up, okay? Can you just stay with Uncle Scott for a little bit?”

Josie immediately whines, “No, he’s hurt. I have to stay with him. I told Daddy I am staying.”

A fresh wave of anxiety runs through your body. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind yet, but apparently, it had to Josie. 

“You told Daddy?” you ask weakly, “When?”

“I called him,” she answers, “I was scared, and wanted Daddy.”

“Oh,” your eyes flutter shut, “Okay, honey. Just stay with Uncle Scott until I see you. I love you so much, Jo.”

“Love you, too, Mommy,” she says, sounding perfectly fine, perfectly normal, and all you want to do is get to her. 

She hands the phone back to Scott, and you hear him grunt again in pain before his voice comes through the speaker. 

“”Y/N, I’m sorry,” he says quietly, “It wasn’t my fault, I swear, I did everything right—”

“I’m on my way,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear any of the details right now, “Just… I love you. I’m glad you’re okay other than the arm.”

He takes a minute to answer, and you can see the exact expression on his face as he debates what’s best to do right now. 

“Thanks,” he eventually says, “I love you, too.”

“See you soon,” you mumble, then disconnect the call before either one of you can say anything else. 

The first thing you do is check your text messages. Rafe has sent nothing, said nothing. When it comes to Rafe, you know silence from him is worse than anything else. You take a deep breath and attempt to type out a text to him, but delete it before you can find the words to explain to him any part of it. 

With a long sigh, you hurry up the stairs and into Connor’s room, forgetting all about his soup and medicine. He sits up when you enter, and when he sees the expression on your face, his eyes widen. 

“What’s wrong, Mama?” he asks, coughing after he finishes his question. 

“We have to go, baby. Can you come with me, please?” 

He nods and stands from his bed, bringing his blanket along with him. You put socks on his feet and slide his shoes on, then carry him down the stairs, wrapped in his blanket. Your mind can’t stop running wild as you picture Josie in Scott’s truck, scared out of her mind. You don’t even notice the tears that fall until Connor reaches up and brushes them away with his finger. Giving him a kiss on the forehead, you strap him into his car seat and pull back to look at his face. 

“I’m so sorry, handsome,” you whisper, “I know you don’t feel well, but we have to go pick up Josie.”

“Okay, Mama,” he replies, even going so far as to offer you a small smile. 

You’re grateful for it, and you show him such. With a kiss on the cheek, you close the car door and climb into the driver’s side, all while trying not to burst into tears again. 

Your knuckles turn white as you squeeze the steering wheel, glancing up at Connor every five seconds in the rear view mirror. He’s still okay, still staring out the window, but you’re paranoid about every single car that even comes close to yours. 

The drive to the hospital finally comes to an end, and you’ve barely parked your car before you’re out of it again. Connor is once again placed on your hip, and you rush in from the parking lot. 

Once you’re inside, you hurry to the closest nurse you can find. She directs you to a desk, who directs you to another nurse, who, finally, tells you what room number to go to. Connor buries his head in your neck and starts to cough again, and the guilt piles on top of your chest. 

You finally spot the room number on the wall and rush to it, just needing to lay eyes on her. To assess her for injuries and make sure that she really is okay. When you enter, you relax instantly. Scott is laying in the bed with his arm in a sling, and Josie is seated in the middle of his chest, giggling as he pokes her stomach. They both look so happy despite their current state and what they’ve been through in the past hour. 

“Josie,” you sigh in relief, setting Connor down in the singular chair before hurrying to her and pulling her into your arms. 

“Mommy,” she cheers, “Look, Uncle Scott got a boo-boo.”

You cradle her head and rock her in your arms, then glance at Scott. He’s giving you a sad smile and a wave using his bad arm, but you shake your head at him. 

“Is it broken?” you ask him. 

“Yeah,” he replies with a shrug, “I’ll get a cool brace for it, though.”

You roll your eyes, “Scott—”

“Y/N,” he stops you, his expression suddenly serious, “The guy ran a red light. I didn’t even see him coming until— Look, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t my fault.”

“I know,” you nod, and you mean it. 

He’s your brother, and you believe him. Especially because he needs you to so desperately, given that he won’t stop trying to explain himself. 

“Good. Now, I have to use the bathroom, then I want to see what’s going on with Little Cam. You don’t look so hot, dude.”

Connor shrugs, “Been better.”

Scott chuckles and stands from the hospital bed, taking two steps over to Connor. 

“You like my sling?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Connor smiles, “Does it hurt?”

“No, I’m tough.”

Connor laughs and so does Josie, and for a brief moment, you feel emotionally stable. You feel at peace, knowing that everyone is okay. 

Then, the door pushes open, and reality slaps you right in the face. You turn too late, and Rafe’s eyes have already assessed the room. He’s frozen for a moment, long enough for you to set Josie down, because you know she’ll want to run to him. 

Instead of waiting on that, however, Rafe crosses the room in a few strides, and you figure out just a beat too late what’s going to happen. 

With a clenched jaw and a balled fist, Rafe states at Scott right as he starts to explain what happened. 

“Yo, Rafe—” he starts, but Rafe’s fist connects with his jaw and knocks him flat on the ground. 

“Oh, my God,” you yell, grabbing Josie and holding her against you while you reach for Connor’s hand. 

Your only focus is getting them both out of the room. You know Scott can fight his own battles, and there’s nothing you can do to talk to Rafe when he’s like this. Looking like he knows this, Scott remains on the ground, leaving Rafe with nothing. He’s dead silent as he turns and faces you and the kids, looking away from you within the same second your eyes meet. 

“Josephine,” Rafe says in relief, crossing over to you and pulling her from you without a word or a look, “Hey, princess. My girl. I was so worried about you. Are you okay?” 

She nods, “Yes, Daddy. I just got scared.”

“I know you did, baby. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to comfort you. Do you have any injuries?”

Josie doesn’t respond right away, and you take it as an opportunity. 

“She’s okay. I checked her when I got here.”

Rafe’s eyes flicker to you for only a moment. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him look at you with anything besides pure admiration and love. This time, his glance is cold, calculated, and practically unrecognizable. 

“Let me take you home,” he says to her, “I’m gonna take you home, and nobody will ever take you anywhere again.”

“Except for you?” she asks. 

“Except for me,” he replies with a nod, “Let’s take Bubby home, too, okay?”

Your heart sinks as Rafe looks down at Connor, who is gripping his blanket tightly. When Rafe offers him a hand, Connor slips out of your grasp and takes it. 

You frown, “I can take—”

“Y/N, I’m so damn pissed right now. You need to stay with your brother, since that’s clearly where you want to be.”

He doesn’t even look at you as he says it, which is what makes the tears come. He’s too busy fussing over Josie’s hair and Connor’s runny nose. Rafe grabs him a tissue, then tosses it when Connor’s done. 

You look over at Scott and find him still seated on the floor, blood running down his chin from his nose, and he’s just staring at the kids. You’re sure he thinks this could be his final time seeing them in a long time, and you feel sick over that. 

“Rafe,” you choke out, “Please, just listen—”

“No,” he snaps, “Not to you. I’m taking them home.”

Connor whimpers, but when Rafe takes his hand again, he doesn’t object as his dad starts to lead him out of the room. Nobody says a word, and before you can blink, the three of them are gone. 

“Fuck,” Scott groans from the floor, “Y/N, I’m so—”

“Don’t,” you shake your head, turning back to him and observing his state before stepping over and offering him a hand, “Let’s just get you cleaned up.”

     Scott gets released from the hospital a few hours later, and you drive him back to his apartment. Neither of you speak about anything other than the weather and your parents, because neither of you know what to say. You want to pretend like everything is fine. At least for now. 

You set him up on his couch with dinner, snacks, and a blanket, then let him know that you love him no matter what. In return, he offers you his room if you need a place to crash, and you almost burst into tears right then and there. 

      By the time you make it home, you know the kids will already be in bed. You debate taking the long way, but the fact that Connor is sick draws you back to the house so you can check on him. 

You pull your car into the garage and shut it off, then get out quickly before you can debate sitting inside for a while. You sigh and push open the door to the house, not knowing exactly what you’re walking into with Rafe.

The house is dark and silent. There’s no plate of dinner sitting on the counter for you like he usually leaves behind, and no light on in the living room to guide your path to bed. With a heavy heart, you head upstairs and peek your head into Connor’s bedroom. He’s sound asleep with a box of tissues and an empty medicine cup on his nightstand. 

Of course Rafe took care of everything. 

Quietly, you close his bedroom door and cross the hall over to Josie’s bedroom. When you peek in, you find her bed to be empty, but her stuffed animals are missing. Immediately, you know where she is. 

You hesitate at the door to your shared bedroom with Rafe for a brief moment, then push open the door and walk inside. Rafe’s bedside lamp is on, which allows you to see him lying on his side of the bed on his side, with Josie facing him. She’s tucked in his arms and sleeping soundly, but Rafe is wide awake and watching every single breath she draws. 

He never looks over at you. For a moment, you wonder if he even realizes you came into the room. When your lips part to speak, no sound comes out. You don’t know what to say or where to start.

“She could’ve been killed,” Rafe says evenly, like he’s stating a fact rather than getting emotional. His eyes don’t leave her for even a split second. 

“Rafe—” you start, but he sits up carefully. 

“Don’t wake her. I just got her to sleep.”

You silence yourself and stare at the two of them for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. After a moment, Rafe leans forward and brushes his lips over Josie’s forehead, then stands from the bed. He walks over to you, watching as you stand completely still in hopes that he’ll just take you into his arms and tell you that everything will be okay. Instead, he clenches his jaw and points to the door of the bedroom, silently telling you to walk through it. 

Rafe follows out of the room behind you and closes the door softly. You walk out to the couch and sit down, watching his movements extra carefully. He’s in sweatpants and a black tee shirt that you’ve always loved on him, but never told him so. 

You watch as he takes a deep breath, then places his hands on his hips. He doesn’t sit; he stands in front of you and keeps his eyes on anything but you. 

“Why was she with your brother?” 

His tone is harsh; like nothing you say in this moment could make sense to him. None of it will make any difference at all. 

“Um,” you shift, your voice shaky, “She— no, okay, the dance studio called and— wait—”

“Y/N,” Rafe stops you, exhaling loudly, “I just want you to explain why she was with your brother.”

You nod, “Okay. Sorry. So, I texted Scott and told him that we weren’t comfortable having the kids see him right now. He came over here to talk to me in person, thinking the kids weren’t home, and Josie saw him. So, naturally, she wouldn’t let him go, and he was just gonna have a snack with her and then leave. But, then, that dance studio called and said they had a spot for Josie this afternoon, and the spot was going to be given away if we couldn’t make it. I didn’t want to leave Connor, and Scott offered, and— Rafe, I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, hands still proudly glued to his hips. His eyes close under the explanation, and the way his jaw is set tells you that, although it might make sense to him, he still isn’t happy or satisfied with the explanation. 

“You should have called me,” he says quietly, “I would’ve helped you work it out. I would’ve come home.”

“You were in a meeting, I didn’t want to bother you—”

“Bother me, Y/N!” he exclaims, silencing you, “Bother me. Every time. If it means I don’t get the fucking call that one of my kids has been in a car accident with someone I didn’t even want them around in the first place. How could you let her go with Scott? After we discussed it and agreed that he was off limits, you just—”

“I didn’t see any other choice,” you speak up, “I didn’t want them to give the spot away.”

“Let them give the damn spot away, then!” he cries, shaking his head, “I told you, she’d be fine dancing anywhere, but you were so dead set on this one place, and that was fine with me until you shipped her off with your brother and he almost got our daughter killed—”

“Rafe, the accident wasn’t his fault,” you say, finally having the courage to stand, “He loves her. He would never put her at risk.”

He laughs then, and it’s deep, loud, sarcastic. Your eyes hit the floor and you swallow, wanting nothing more than his touch. Despite Rafe being the one causing the ache in your chest, you know he’s the only one who can fix it. He’s the only one who can ever fix it. 

“He did put her at risk, Y/N. Many times. Every time he showed up drunk, every time he stumbled down the stairs. It’s not a fucking coincidence that this happened when she was with him.”

You draw back, shaking your head, “That’s not fair. It could’ve happened to anyone. It could’ve been me—”

“Don’t,” he says immediately, stepping closer to you, “Don’t you dare go there. It wouldn’t have. It can’t.”

“Why not, Rafe?” you question, raising a brow, angry that he wants to blame everything on Scott when you don’t feel it’s his fault, “You’d blame Scott for everything if you could. If I had decided to take Josie to dance, it would’ve been me and the kids at that intersection—-”

“No!” he shouts, silencing you once again, “Stop it. It can’t happen again, Y/N. I almost lost you once, it cannot fucking happen again.”

Your lips glue shut as you realize what this is truly about for him. He runs a hand through his hair and sucks in a deep breath, letting the silence fall between the two of you. 

You know exactly how Rafe has internalized the accident you were in the night of Midsummers with Topper and Kelce. You know, because he’s told you. How he had nightmares for ages afterward, how he still will grip the steering wheel with two hands when he drives with you in the car at night. How he thinks about it every year at Midsummers, regardless of how much time has passed. 

Now, you can’t imagine what this will do to him. His Josie, his baby girl. Getting that call was not easy on him, you’re sure, and for a moment, you understand why he’s so angry with you for putting him in that situation. 

“Rafe,” you whisper, watching the way he looks up at you with vulnerability in his eyes, “I’m so, so sorry.”

He nods, like he really just needed to hear that. You take a step closer, but before you can reach for him, he steps back. 

“I need to sleep on it all. We can regroup in the morning.”

You swallow and nod, unsure of what to do with your hands. You settle for tucking them behind your back, squirming under his gaze. 

“I’ll sleep upstairs. In case Connor needs anything,” you say. 

“Alright,” he nods, looking at you like he’s considering something. 

“Alright,” you repeat. 

He sighs, like he’s annoyed with himself, then steps forward and cups your cheeks. He stares at you for a moment before placing a kiss on your forehead forcefully, then drops you from his grip completely. 

You step forward out of habit, wanting his touch back. Instead of reaching for him, you just stare, knowing that he can tell what you want but refuses to give it to you. 

“I love you, Rafe,” you whisper to him. 

Even as angry as he is, he doesn’t miss a beat, “I love you, too.”

He nods, then turns around and leaves you like that. In the middle of the living room with his kiss still lingering on your forehead, and his words sitting in front of you, etching themselves into your heart so you never forget them. 

     When you wake in the morning, your first thought is of Connor. You don’t allow yourself to think of anything else, because it weighed on you all night, until you just couldn’t take it anymore. You cried in the guest room bed. Buried your face in a pillow and sobbed as you relived the day, your choices, and what became of them. You cry for Josie, for Rafe, for Scott. You cry because all you’d wanted to do was make the right choice for all of them, and you wound up only making the wrong ones. 

So, when you wake up with swollen under eyes and a red nose, the only thing you allow yourself to think about is Connor. 

He’s asleep when you enter his room, and when you feel his forehead, he feels the same as he had last night. You make a mental note to bring up more medicine for him, then take his temperature. 

Slipping back out of his room, you head downstairs. Your stomach twists as you hear Rafe talking to Josie in the kitchen, and the thought of facing him without knowing exactly how he feels today makes you anxious. 

As you walk in, you find Josie sitting on the counter and Rafe at the stove, where he flips a pancake in the pan. Josie giggles at something he said, and Rafe laughs back. His eyes catch on you, and for a brief moment, he smiles. Then, he drops it and looks down. 

“Hi, Mommy!” Josie cheers, “Daddy’s staying home today! He said I could, too.”

“He did, huh?” you smile at her, walking around the island to embrace her. 

“Thought I could, considering we’re not consulting each other on decisions anymore,” Rafe mutters. 

For Josie’s sake, you ignore him, but you stare at him while you do it. In no way can you tell Rafe how to feel or act, but you’re shocked at how openly petty he’s being. 

“Rafe—”

He cuts you off when he spins around with a plate in his hand, then gives Josie a wide smile. 

“Alright, princess, your breakfast is ready. Go sit at the table for me.”

He carries Josie’s plate over as you help her down from the counter, then watch her take off to her seat. Once she’s settled, Rafe comes back into the kitchen, but he doesn’t spare you a single glance. 

“How’d you sleep?” you try, stepping closer. 

“I didn’t,” he replies as he pours more pancake batter into the pan, “She did. All night.”

You swallow, “Good. So, listen, I was hoping—”

“I’m taking her to my parents’ today. We’ll swim and visit with Topper and Ellie. I figure Connor needs quiet, anyway.”

“Oh, okay,” you nod weakly, “Do you think we could talk later, though?”

“I don’t know.”

You frown and look at the floor, then glance over at the coffee pot. What’s usually filled halfway for you is now empty, and you know the pancakes he’s making on the stove are for himself. It makes your heart ache, to think that he’s so angry with you that he no longer wants to take care of you. 

“Rafe, I just… I want to fix it,” you practically beg, “Please.”

He drops the spatula on the counter before he turns to you, keeping his voice low on account of Josie. 

“This isn’t just something you can fix, Y/N. You hurt me. You prioritize your brother over our kids and you always have. Every time he stumbles in drunk, you always tell him it’s okay. It’s not. This time, you let him take our daughter and they got into an accident. She could’ve gotten really hurt. I’m not okay with that, and I never will be. Until you can get your priorities straight, I’m not interested in what you have to say.”

You step back from him and swallow the lump in your throat. Instead of just rolling over, you want to explain your thought process — have an actual conversation instead of bickering over the stove.

“He’s sick, Rafe. He’s an alcoholic. Guilting him every time he comes to us like that isn’t going to help him,” you reply, trying to stay strong despite the tears stinging your eyes, “And, how dare you accuse me of not prioritizing our family.  This is my top priority— my only priority. I made a judgment call, and I was wrong, I admit it. If I could go back and change it, I would.”

He shrugs, looking back down at the pancake, “But, you can’t.”

His left hand rests on the counter where he leans, supporting his body. You want to reach out and grab it, pull him into you and keep him close as you tell him that you’re sorry over and over again. You give in before you can help yourself, and when you cover his hand with your own, he doesn’t pull away immediately.

“Rafe, please,” you beg, but you’re not sure for what exactly. His eyes. His love. His forgiveness. 

“Don’t,” he says, pulling hand from under yours, “You really hurt me this time.”

Before you can say anything else, he plates his pancakes, then turns to face Josie. 

She grins when she sees him holding up his own plate, and he puts on his parent mask as he nears her. 

“Can we eat together, baby?” he asks enthusiastically, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was absolutely, positively, fine. 

     After Josie and Rafe leave, you bring Connor downstairs. You cuddle with him when he asks for it, you make him soup, give him more medicine, and watch Paw Patrol until he falls asleep on your lap. 

You, however, don’t nap. You stare at your phone screen, at a drafted text to Rafe as your thumb hovers over the send button. 

I hope you know that I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or Josie. I never would. The three of you are my priority. We can talk more when you’re ready, but I just want you to know that I’m thinking about what you said and I want to work this out with you more than anything. Please come home. 

You debate taking off the plea for him to come home, but you decide to leave it and press send. When you see that it went through, you put your phone down and take a deep breath, then leave your eyes glued to the screen so you can see the second he responds. 

When your phone does light up again, you pounce on it. You frown when you see Maddie’s name at the top of the new text, asking you why Rafe canceled the dinner plans that you two had with Maddie and Kelce tonight — which you’d completely forgotten about. 

You reply quickly and tell her that Connor is sick, and debate asking her if she can talk on the phone so you can get advice. However, you decide against it and fire off your excuse just as Rafe’s response comes in. 

We will pick up dinner and be there soon. How’s Connor? 

You smile, because something about this feels like progress. Silently, you look down to the sleeping boy, running your hand through his hair because you just can’t help yourself. 

He’s good. Sleeping off the fever, I hope. Thank you for getting dinner!

He won’t respond to that and you know it, but you don’t care. At least he gave you one response. 

     Connor wakes just before Josie and Rafe get home, and with a perfect temperature, he says he wants to stay downstairs for dinner. You nod and give him a hug, and when you hear the garage door open, you wave him up and into the kitchen. 

“Mommy!” Josie shouts when she enters the house, “Look, Daddy got me a princess sticker!”

She holds it up to you proudly as you hug her tight, “Oh, I love it, Jo.”

She beams and moves over to show it to Connor as Rafe walks in. He holds a pizza in his left hand and Josie’s bag in his right. You don’t miss the name on the pizza box — your favorite place, meaning he had to drive fifteen extra minutes each way to get it instead of getting the easy, shitty pizza down the street. 

“You got Lighthouse,” you say, biting your lip to hide a smile as you acknowledge his drive to the pizza place.

“Yeah, I—” he stops himself and closes his eyes, then shakes his head before repeating, “Yeah.”

You take a daring step forward, “Thank you.”

He nods once, and when you see him swallow down his impulse to reach for you, to hug you and kiss you and ask about your day, he looks over to the kids. 

“Hey, Connor. How are you feeling, buddy?”

Rafe steps past you to get to him, and the pizza you’d just been swooning over suddenly doesn’t seem as appetizing. Regardless, you get plates out and divide up slices while Rafe works behind you to get everyone drinks. He pours juice out for the kids and tells them to sit at the table, then gets a beer for himself. He doesn’t ask you what you want because he already knows, and he sets the glass of white wine at your place setting.

Dinner is quiet, but you pretend it’s only because Josie is tired from swimming all day and Connor isn’t feeling well. Everything feels off because you and Rafe didn’t work today — you told Rose that Connor was sick — and Josie didn’t go to school. It feels like it should be a weekend, but it’s not. 

You want to ask Rafe if he plans on going back to work tomorrow. If he wants to sleep next to you tonight, because you want to sleep next to him. You want to ask him everything, anything, just to get him to look at you. 

After dinner, Rafe volunteers himself to do bath and bedtime, which leaves you downstairs to clean up the small mess from the meal. As you clean, you spot a tub of ice cream in the freezer and pull it out, smiling to yourself at your little idea. 

     When Rafe comes back downstairs, he doesn’t look for you. Instead, he makes his way into your shared bedroom, already peeling off his shirt in preparation for a shower when he freezes. You’re sitting on his side of the bed with two small bowls of ice cream and that pout on your lips that you know he loves. He visibly softens at the sight, and when you hold up the bowl, his jaw ticks. 

“You’re something else,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, as he crosses the room shirtless. 

You give him a small smile as he plants himself beside you and accepts the bowl. His knee touches yours, and you feel giddy inside when he doesn’t pull himself away. 

“I’m trying, Rafe,” you whisper as he takes a bite, staring down at the bowl instead of you, “I’m trying to figure out what to do. Because I miss you. And I know I made a mistake. But I don’t want to cut my brother off in the process of working this out. He’s doing better, and I’m afraid that would trigger him into a relapse, or something.”

“I get that,” he murmurs. 

“So, let’s talk about it. All three of us. Let’s set clear boundaries and we can even make a timeline—”

“Y/N,” Rafe practically laughs, “I already did that with you. I told you that I wasn’t ready. I set my boundary, and you crossed it.”

You swallow, “I know, but I think it will help if Scott is clued in, too. That way, wires don’t get crossed, and we can all—”

“We can all what?” he scoffs, standing up, “Live happily ever after? Scott can worm his way back into our kids’ lives? I cave on a lot of shit for you, Y/N, but this is not something you can ask me to do.”

“Rafe, I’m not asking you to change how you feel,” you reply, your voice small and pleading, as if silently begging him to sit back down with you, “Please, I’m not. I’m just trying to make everyone happy.”

He shakes his head and lets his eyes close, rolling them behind his lids, “That’s the problem with you. You’re always so focused on how everyone else feels. You’re so afraid to tell Scott ‘no’ because you’re afraid you’ll be responsible for a relapse if you do. You know what, Y/N? You’re allowed to be selfish. You’re allowed to stand up for yourself and our children. Scott is a grown ass man, and his choices are his own. You baby the fuck out of him, and it needs to stop.”

You digest Rafe’s words, letting them hang in the air between the two of you. On one hand, you want to fight back. You want to tell him that Scott is your family, and you’re just trying to help. On the other hand, you see how trying to help turned into Josie being in an accident. Then, you hear Rafe’s words in your head once more. 

I cave on a lot of shit for you. 

He does, and you know it. With a deep breath, you nod your head, willing to sacrifice for him the way he always does for you — without a second thought. 

“Okay,” you whisper, watching his eyes dart to you, “Alright. I’ll take space. I’ll work on it. Whatever is best for you and the kids, I will do that.”

Rafe stares at you like that’s the last thing he expected you to say. His hands meet his hips and he assesses you from head to toe before swallowing. 

“Maybe you should sleep on that decision,” he says carefully. 

You shake your head, ignoring the stinging in your eyes. He watches you carefully as you stand up and step over to him, then place a gentle hand on his chest. You can feel his heart racing, and you want to smile at the thought of still being able to do that to him after all this time. 

“I don’t need to. You’re right, I let people walk all over me because I don’t want to disappoint anyone. But, our marriage is my priority, and our children are my priority, and I need to do better. I’m sorry, Rafe, I’m so sorry.”

His eyes close when your lips ghost over his cheek. His fists ball at his sides as he fights the urge to pull you in, to forget it all and just let his body take over. You move down and kiss along his jawline, then back up to his mouth. You let your lips hover for a moment, giving him time to object, before you lean closer. 

“Y/N,” he whispers at the very last second, “You can’t just tell me what I want to hear because we’re in a fight. You need to figure this shit out for yourself.”

“Rafe,” you sigh, but he shakes his head. 

“I need some time, too. This really rattled me, and I need to figure out how I want to proceed.”

You furrow your brows, “How you want to proceed? Like, with us?”

You fear the answer more than anything, but you need to hear it. 

“With everything,” he replies, “I just… I need sleep. So do you.”

You nod but don’t say a word, standing there and thinking about the melting ice cream that sits on your bed. 

Rafe takes a deep breath and watches as you avoid his eyes, then sighs and steps forward. You think he might reach out to touch you, grab you, kiss you, anything. Instead, he picks up his pillow from his side of the bed and steps back, offering you half a smile. 

“I’ll be on the couch,” he mumbles, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you reply. 

He picks up the two ice cream bowls and carries them to the door, turning back and staring at the scene in front of him for a moment. You, still standing on his side of the bed, where you know you’ll sleep tonight. 

“Love you,” he whispers. 

“Love you, too.”

He nods and then closes the door behind him. Only then do you fall into his side of the bed and inhale his scent on the sheets, allowing your tears to fall right where you lay. You don’t grab a pillow, you don’t cover yourself with a blanket. You just cry until your body grows so tired that it forces you to sleep, with swollen eyes and a regretful heart. 

     You jolt awake to the sound of the doorknob to your bedroom rattling up and down a few times, which immediately has you sitting up in bed. Your first thought is that it’s Connor trying to get in because he’s sick, and your heart sinks at the thought of him having gotten worse. 

Which is why, when Rafe comes rushing into the room, your eyes grow wide. He’s shirtless and his hair is a mess, but more than that, he looks completely terrified. Your heart races as he starts over to you at a fast pace, lips parted like he’s trying to speak, but can’t. 

“Rafe, what is it?” you ask softly. 

His breaths are shallow and jagged, and when he tries to inhale, it seems like he can’t. You scoot closer to the edge of the bed, and when he rounds the mattress and gets to you, he sinks to his knees in front of you. 

“You’re okay,” he whispers in relief, beginning to check you from top to bottom with his eyes and hands, “Fuck, thank God.”

His palms grip your forearms and he flips them over to check for any sort of marking or injury, then moves down your body to your legs. He runs his hands over every square inch of your skin, and you let him. 

“Of course I’m okay,” you reply, grabbing one of his hands in yours, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

He lets out a long breath, then shakes his head, but his hands never leave you. He grips you tight, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go for even a moment. 

“Nothing, nothing,” he rushes, “Just a bad dream, I guess. Felt real.”

You tense, “Are you having nightmares again?”

He shrugs, but when you cup his cheek with your free hand, he nods. 

“Yeah,” he admits shyly, “I, um, I know we’re in a weird place right now, but—”

“Come to bed,” you demand, tugging him in. 

He nods, as if that’s exactly what he wanted you to say. You scoot over just enough for him to crawl onto the mattress, then bury yourself in him the moment he’s laying flat. His arms wrap around you and your head presses against his heart; this time racing for a different reason. 

Just as you settle and the room falls silent, you debate what to say. If you should ask any questions or just let him be. Rafe speaks, silencing your mind. 

“Y/N,” he whispers into the darkness, “I have to tell you something.”

“Tell me,” you encourage, squeezing him slightly. 

He takes a long moment to start, but when he does, you can tell by the shakiness in his voice that he’s emotional.

“I think part of the reason I got so upset with you was because I was very aware of the fact that it could’ve been the three of you at that intersection. Even though you let Scott take her against my wishes, you still made the right choice, somehow. Because, I swear, if I had gotten a call that all of you were at the hospital, I think I would’ve had a heart attack right then and there in my office.”

“Rafe,” you whine, cuddling closer. 

He shakes his head, “Let me finish, okay, baby?”

“Okay,” you whisper. 

“I’m terrified that something will happen one day. That I won’t be there to protect you, or stop it, or fix it, and this whole thing really brought that fear out of me. I know that I seem overprotective with the kids, especially with Scott, but I just can’t stand the thought of something happening to them. To you. You’re my entire world, Y/N. I just need you to understand that.”

“I do understand that,” you answer, heart hammering in your chest, “But, we also can’t live our lives in fear of what could happen. All we can do is take precautions and make informed decisions together. I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Rafe. I would never, ever do that on purpose. I love you too much to even consider it.”

He swallows roughly, “I know, sweetheart.”

You want to say more, to spill your guts and tell him every thought you’ve had for the past twenty four hours. Instead, you cuddle deeper into him and inhale his scent, then kiss his cheek. 

“You should sleep, handsome,” you whisper against his skin, “I’m right here, and I’m okay. We’ll work it out in the morning.”

He nods, then presses a kiss into your hair, “I’m in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you, too,” you reply, “That means you’re stuck with me.”

He chuckles lightly, “Good.”

You smile against him, then kiss his cheek once more before you resign to laying your head on his chest. Both of you are asleep in seconds, surrounded in the warmth and love of the other. 

     When you wake up in the morning, your hands are both tangled in Rafe’s. You feel his smooth palms in yours and you smile before you even open your eyes to find him. When you do, he’s laying across from you, already wide awake. When his eyes meet yours, his lips tip up in a smile. 

"What are you staring at?” you ask teasingly, shifting closer. 

“My wife,” he replies in that morning voice that always seems to get you, “My beautiful, infuriating wife.”

You laugh, even though it shouldn’t be funny. He smiles a real smile then, and you bask in it. Having not seen it in what feels like forever, you want to keep it there for the rest of your life. 

“Rafe,” you whisper. “I—”

“I know,” he stops you, tugging you closer, “I know you’re sorry. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“Really?” you ask hopefully. 

“Mhm,” he hums, “Can you just promise that you’ll call me the next time you don’t know what to do? No matter what?”

You nod, “I promise.”

“Thank you,” he says, then takes a breath before saying, “Now, about your brother.”

“I still want him in my life, Rafe. But, I’ll meet up with him and really discuss boundaries and everything. I’ll take the house key from him. I will do whatever makes you feel the most comfortable, but I won’t cut him out.”

He nods, “I’m not asking you to cut him out, baby. Not at all. You just need to be more firm with him. You know Scott, you give him an inch, he takes a mile.”

“I know,” you reply, dropping your shoulders at the evident quality your brother possesses, “I’ll work on being more assertive with my boundaries when it comes to him.”

“Good. You deserve to be appreciated and respected. You’re not a doormat for your brother and his issues.”

You know Rafe’s right, but you’re not ready to admit that that might just be what Scott has been doing to you. That he knows you’ll go easy on him, so he comes to you first. You haven’t wanted to see it, so you don’t. 

“So, we’re okay?” you ask, biting your lip. 

He stares at you for a moment, and you notice how his look of admiration has returned. You smile as he begins to nod, then squeeze his hand. 

“We’re okay,” he replies, “Sorry if I scared you last night.”

“You did. Do you think our fight brought it on?” 

He shrugs, “The fight. Josie being in the accident. I’m sure it will go away in the next few nights, as I calm down.”

You nod in understanding, then place a few gentle pecks onto his bare chest. 

“If there’s anything I can do, tell me,” you murmur, “You’re never alone.”

“Thank you, baby.”

As much as you want to stay and bask in his body heat, you know you should get up to check on Connor and take him more medicine. Rafe can feel you tense as you prepare to move, and his grip tightens. 

“Rafe—”

“He’s fine,” Rafe bluffs, “Don’t get up.”

“I have to.”

He laughs gruffly, then releases you. Reluctantly, you climb from the bed in your tank top and short shorts, eliciting a groan from Rafe where he lays. Without being able to contain himself, it seems, he reaches over and swats your backside as you escape from the bed, earning a jaw drop from you. 

“Sorry,” he grins mischievously. 

“Sure you are,” you mutter, “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I really am, sweetheart. I remind myself every day.”

You know he’s being his silly self, but the words bring butterflies to your stomach. You grin and turn back to look at him as you walk toward your bedroom door, taking a mental picture of him laying in bed with his shirt off and his hair messy. He’s practically begging you to come back to him, and for a moment, you strongly consider it. 

“Don’t move,” you command, “I’ll be back in ten.”

He chuckles, “Yes ma’am.”

You hurry from the room and up the stairs, already missing Rafe’s heat and the comfort of your bed with him in it. You’re already making plans for when you return to your bedroom, because although fighting with Rafe is one of the worst things in your entire world, making up is your absolute favorite.

*i no longer have a tag list! follow @mackupdates for updates! thank you for reading <3

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Tip-Off

Klay Thompson Instagram AU

****

You lifted your sunglasses on top of your head as you stepped out onto the front of Klay's boat. The sun was beating down on you, but it was uncharacteristically cool in the morning, making it the perfect day to take Nordic Knife out on the water for the last time before the first game of the season.

yourusername

Liked by klaythompson, yourbestiesusername, user and 13k others

yourusername last time out on the water before the season officially starts. everyone betta watch they backs 😤 also, I promise I'm a good girlfriend after that last video

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klaythompson

Liked by yourusername, goldenstatewarriors, user and 8k others

klaythompson her view, my view. Last nights this summer before the season starts. Love having you by my side baby

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dailymail

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dailymail Klay Thompson arrived at the Chase Center with his game face on for the first game of the season, but sources tell us his relationship with y/n is getting serious, and the only thing on his mind is another type of ring 💍 we've heard the four time NBA champion has been looking at engagement rings, but nothing could be confirmed

Y/N arrived at the arena to watch her beau play, her left hand noticeably bare 👀 at least for now

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yourusernamefan ENGAGED?!?! OMG!

user the only thing Klay should be focused on is a championship ring

user don't ya'll get tired of the gossip? let them be in love in peace🙄

yourusername

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yourusername First game of the season: only here for the hotdogs and the eye candy

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goldenstatewarriors looking for a job as a photographer? 📸

yourusername I'll have my people call your people 😉

klaythompson and the hotdogs lol

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yourusername

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yourusername nothing better than beating Klay at some chess on a lazy Sunday afternoon and then cooking him dinner to soften the blow

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klaythompson don't lie to Instagram, I let you win

yourusername all four times? klaythompson yes yourusername you're lucky you're cute, you're a terrible liar 😘 klaythompson you're lucky you're cute, you're a terrible cook 😘 yourusername wow, low blow babe 😩 klaythompson don't worry, I still love you

mychelthompson Rocco just wants you to throw the ball man

Taglist:

@luvvtrent

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@aga21

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@belleann23

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@itskhylle

[bridgetotheskyyy]

chapter three.

masterlist

Chapter summary: You and the Sand Siblings go on vacation and, in the process, you and Gaara grow closer . . .

Chapter warnings: violence near the end, mentions of gambling lol, sexual tension, angst

Word count: 12k

A/N: (I encourage everyone to read the notes of this chapter from my ao3 as they're quite extensive lol)

Read on ao3 here

The paper stack damn near reached the ceiling.

 You stared at it. “Wow.”

“Yep.” Kankuro approached the chair, slouched into it. “This is what it looks like when a war ends and you put off all the serious stuff.”

The paperwork pile was hardly the most eye-catching thing in the office; Kankuro had brought Crow, Kuroari, and another puppet, whose name you hadn’t learned, into the room. They slumped against potted plants, readied for polishing or tweaking the moment their daddy required a break from the workload.

Still, your eyes returned to the pile and wondered how many of the sheets referred to the Kazekage’s imminent marriage. How many mentioned you by name?

Your brow quirked. “What kind of serious stuff?”

“Boring stuff.” Kankuro yawned as he swiveled in the Kazekage’s chair. “Only thing that makes it bearable is knowing I won’t have to see any of this stuff for the next few days.” He shot his fists into the air. “The beach!”

“The beach!” You echoed. A thought occurred. “Have you ever been to one?”

“No.” Kankuro chuckled, kicking feet up on the desk, arms behind his back. “I’m like you; desert child through and through. Never even seen one. Can’t wait.”

“But you’re a shinobi!” You said. “I bet you’ve been all around.”

“I have,” Kankuro said. “But, I don’t know, it just never happened.” He looked out the window, where the day was uncharacteristically clear. A smile tugged on his lips for reasons eluding you. “When you’re a shinobi, you get to go to lots of exotic locales, but there’s not a lot of time for sightseeing.”

Your gaze climbed the bodies of the puppets with awe. “Such amazing powers you all have.” 

“Don’t be so quick to envy us,” Kankuro said. “It’s not a very glamorous life; you’re usually fighting for your life or trying to take somebody else’s.”

“At least you get to determine your life.” You barely heard yourself in your reverie. “Or, if you don’t like it, fight to get out of it.”

“Yeah?” The Kazekage’s chair creaked; Kankuro must have leaned forward in it. “And what are you fighting to get out of, (Y/n)?”

You sobered, turning your head to see Kankuro staring. “Hm? Oh — Sorry, I was just …” 

“(Y/n).” Kankuro was serious now. “Temari wasn’t too hard on you the other day, was she? Look, I know she can be scary — uh, most of the time — but, when you get to know her, she’s —” 

“What? No! I—” You swallowed, surprised by yourself. What was wrong with you? You couldn’t black out like that! “I don’t — know where my head went just now!”

For seconds more, he was quiet, only watching you inquisitively. You felt spotlighted.

The hand of the analog clock at the wall caught your eye. Nearly noon. 

“I better go get Gaara.” You headed to the door.

“You’re sure you’re all right?” Kankuro asked from behind.

“Yes, definitely,” You hastened, only to halt your hand at the knob. “Oh, by the way, how exactly are we getting to the beach?”

Another smile tugged at Kankuro’s lips as he pulled a cloth forth from the desk drawer, likely for polishing. “Oh, that’s a surprise.”

You continued self-flagellating as you traipsed through the halls of the Kazekage’s palace, attempting to find a way out of its maze. 

What was wrong with you? Like being a shinobi would give you more power over your life, access to your fate. Hideo was a shinobi. Did he control his fate?

Did anyone?

You were controlling your fate now — rebelling against your father, choosing Gaara and his siblings. You had grabbed the rope of fate.

You only hoped it didn’t slip from your grasp, burn your hand in the free fall.

You caught eyes with someone as they rounded the corner opposite you. Someone familiar … Rough lines creasing his aged face, Suna council garb —

“Elder Joseki,” You greeted.

Joseki’s eyes widened imperceptibly upon recognizing you. “Lady (Y/n),” he drawled. “I hope you’re enjoying your stay in the Sand.”

“Yes,” You replied coolly. “It’s been most pleasant. Thank you.”

Joseki studied you with a demeaning glare, the same one he had fixed you with at the party a century ago. You couldn’t tell if it was you he was displeased with or the world.

“And,” he began, “I’m guessing Lord Kazekage hasn’t told you anything of … importance?”

“He’s told me enough.”

“Has he?” 

You matched his cold stare with your own. “Your dislike of the Kazekage seems personal.”

Joseki advanced. “He’s more dangerous than you know, my lady. More dangerous than you can conceive. Do not buy into his act; the villagers are still deeply afraid of him, they only pretend to love him.” He clenched his fist. “Seas could not contain the amount of blood that boy has shed.”

You hardened yourself to his speech. “Personal, and most unpatriotic.”

“I only hope you will reconsider,” Joseki urged. “Return to your village before it is too late, and you are trapped here with more enemies than friends.”

“If you insist on riddles, I’m leaving.” You hurried past him.

“Going where?”

You stared crookedly at him. What right did he have to be so forward? So familiar? You had no reason to answer, but a desire to bite back at him corrupted you. “If you must know, the Kazekage and his siblings are taking me on a trip.”

Joseki’s eyes went wide, his skin paling. “You — You can’t be left alone with him!”

“You have stepped out of bounds, Elder.” Your voice was harsh. “We have nothing further to say to one another.”

“Lady (Y/n), wait —!”

But you were already on your way, blocking Joseki from your mind. 

You were so sick of paranoid old men.

He’s just like father … a pathetic old man, all of them.

You found Gaara asleep at his desk in the greenhouse, surrounded by the small cacti he fathered and loved so much. 

You tiptoed forward to see his face, plastered, along with his arms, against his desk. You had never seen him so vulnerable. Gaara’s eyelids, rimmed with coal-black, were closed, and his lips parted to exhale gentle breaths expanding his chest. 

So cute.

And intimate. 

Just days ago, you had sat in the same chair and told Gaara about your brother’s death. You squirmed with the memory. You refused to think of Father’s letter, the allegations that Gaara had been the one to …

Gaara stirred in his sleep. You hated to wake him — and considered against it. You leaned forward —

Something caught your eye. You turned your head. Behind a series of tall plants, something large loomed in the shadows. Something made of sand.

You tiptoed away from Gaara, synchronizing your steps with his gentle snores. Brushing banana leaves aside, you saw:

It was a sand-made statue of a woman. Short-haired and kind-eyed, along with the prettiest hands you had ever seen. It was only a second or two before you realized who she must be.  

Karura.

You made your way back to Gaara and leaned over his shoulder. With a loving begrudge, you began to rouse him.

“Gaara …!” You gently nudged his shoulder. “Gaara!”

His eyes cracked — flew open.

He shot up. You were face to face. Your lips almost touching —

“Eep!” You jumped away as his face turned red. “I’m sorry!”

“No …” Gaara looked around as though surprised by himself. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“Can’t tell you how much I didn’t want to wake you.”

He smiled. “I catch up on sleep now whenever I can; I guess I sleep deeper than I thought.”

“That’s a good thing,” You assured him. He works so hard as the Kazekage that Kankuro taking over gives him time to breathe.

Gaara’s eyes roved over you, an arm roped over the chair. “You look nice.”

You admired yourself; you had been more casual in your dress since Temari had taken you shopping. A white shirt, underneath which was some fishnet you had become smitten with and borrowed from Temari’s closet (she said if you wore it some might mistake you for being a shinobi, which only made you want to wear it more) and simple black pants were what you choose to go with today. 

“Thank you.” You hung your head bashfully — only to be reminded of the statue and redirected your gaze toward it.

Gaara followed your attention. He stiffened. “You saw it …”

You met his eye and shared the vulnerability swimming there. “I … hope you’re not mad; I wasn’t trying to snoop, I … It’s very pretty.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s of her, isn’t it?” You said. “Your mother.”

Karura. The modest woman with the pretty name. You had only seen small portraits of her here and there, tiny mementos her children clung to in their efforts to never forget her. 

“Yes,” Gaara said, rising from his chair to approach the statue. “I was inspired last night. I’m never really satisfied with the work I do.”

“Don’t say that.” You followed him, feet instinctively carrying you wherever he went. “She would have loved it.” 

Gaara’s eyes widened, clearly taken aback by your assessment. He faced you as the two of you stood side-by-side, admiring the sand stature. “Do you think so?”

You turned to give him a smile. “I know so,” You affirmed. 

Of course she loved him; who wouldn’t?

And you don’t know if you did it on purpose or not, but your index finger came to brush against Gaara’s. You were thrown by the fire the slightest touch erupted in your belly. You looked down to spot your finger’s treachery. Gaara seemed neither to care nor mind. 

Your heart cartwheeled when he took your hand in his hold, the skin of his palm warm and secure against your own.

You remembered how it felt to be cradled in his lap seconds before you had leaped away, his hands on your shoulders … Something purred inside you, compelling you to lean into the hand hold.

You cleared your throat and broke away without knowing why. “You don’t talk about your father much, I notice.”

A shadow came over Gaara’s face. “The relationship the Fourth Kazekage and I had was … difficult.”

“You’re speaking to the choir with that one.” You giggled. You wiggled the hand Gaara once held in hopes of eradicating the tingle there. “I won’t pry.”

“No,” he said. “It’s all right. I was his … experiment.”

Cold water ran over you. You paused. 

Experiment. It was the same word Joseki had used. How odd …

A bitter laugh from you. “I think we’re all experiments of our parents.”

Gaara relaxed, seeming to be grateful for the out you’d given him.

“Lord Kazekage,” a new voice entered the greenhouse, and the two of you turned to see a servant. “Lady Temari told me to fetch you. The party is ready.” 

“Ooh.” You turned to Gaara with a conspiratorial smile. “And it begins.”

Luggages were hauled into carriages while Sand and Oasis ninja gathered to accompany the four of you on your vacation. Staring at the carriages ready for departure by the gates of Sunagakure gave you a strange sense of deja vu. 

“I’m not looking forward to getting back into those things,” You said to Gaara. 

He didn’t answer you.

A strange puppet you hadn’t recognized from Kankuro’s collection lay hunched by the side of the carriage. Temari came through the gap between carts, wielding a metal bar you couldn’t identify. She was followed by Kankuro and Baki.

“I hope the two of you have considered what I said,” Baki said.

“Oh, believe us, we have,” Kankuro said, and he and his sisters tapered into giggles. 

Baki sighed before catching sight of you. His demeanor transformed; the fatherly air had returned. “Lady (Y/n)!” He said warmly.

You returned his smile. “Hello, Baki.”

Baki turned to the carriages. “We took the luxury of packing your things for you. I hope you don’t mind. None of your things were extraneously handled, and I made sure your privacy was secured.”

“Oh, I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble,” You said. “I don’t need much!”

One of the carriage doors was left ajar; you spotted the luggage you had come with. 

“None at all,” Baki said. He gave a warning look toward Temari and Kankuro, who only bowed their heads. “I hope you all enjoy yourselves.”

You sighed, the reality of another carriage ride looming ever nearer. Let’s just get this part over with.

You made to hop into the carriage —

Someone caught your hand. You looked to your side and Gaara was there.

“What’s wrong?” You let Gaara lead you away from the carriage by hand.

“Oh,” Kankuro pointed to the carriage, “that won’t be your ride.” He shut the carriage door and turned to the ninja. “Start moving! We’ll catch up!” 

The ninja scurried away while the carriage jerked to life. It rode down toward the village gates. 

You looked toward Gaara with a nervous laugh. “What’s going on?”

Gaara simply smiled and swept his hand —

And enveloped you in a small sandstorm as tides of sand whipped past you. The wind pulled at your hair and toward Gaara. A giant platform solidified at his feet. He nudged you gently toward him and the two of you bumped hips as the platform began to float.

Float. 

Your scream crescendoed as the platform carried the two of you into a cloudless sky. The vertigo had you gripping Gaara’s shoulder as the entire village sprawled beneath you. Its spidered streets and huge, domed buildings grew smaller as Gaara directed the two of you away from the village. 

“I thought this would be a fun way to travel,” Gaara said, before looking down at you clutching his arm to add, “but, if you don’t like it —“

“Are you kidding?” You screeched. “Go faster! Faster!” 

Temari and Kankuro were at a lower altitude, carrying themselves over the Suna gates by their own machinations; Temari’s metal blade was actually a fan she used to glide over the gate, while Kankuro’s puppet was somehow attached to his back, propelling him through the air with giant batlike wings. 

“As you wish,” Gaara murmured, and sped up.

You could do nothing but gawk. The desert spilled out past the gates like a giant ocean; rolling dunes towering like waves, seeking to outdo one another as their hills stretched out over undisturbed cerulean. You detected the ninja and carriage below, but barely, having been reduced to mere ants from the altitude.

“This is amazing …” You breathed out.

“Come.” Gaara lowered himself on the platform to sit criss-cross. “Sit.”

You clutched onto him hard as he aided you. You let your legs lay out on your side. You traded his arm for his neck — hesitated, until Gaara allowed your touch, and you wrapped arms around him.

“I would never let you fall.” Gaara bowed his head forward with an assuring stare. “You know that?”

You nodded. A calm smile graced his lips, perfect on his face. His hand rested gingerly on your waist, sending your heart into a back-flip. Wind ruffled his crimson hair, bits of sand carrying into the air. And in that moment you believed Gaara had never lied once in his life.

Your hold on him mercified. “I believe you,” you whispered.

I was right. Amazing powers. You looked back to see Temari, the wind rippling her ponytails, laughing in the air. She watched Kankuro do flips and dips in the sky, folding and reopening his puppet’s wings. Squeak. The cork of Gaara’s gourd loosened to free yet more sand, and in midair the strips of sand morphed to become butterflies. 

They were all gods to you.

One butterfly landed on your cheek, kissed your face, and you giggled. “How is this possible?” You asked.

Gaara’s ease lessened. “I was … born with special gifts. Because of a spirit.”

You glanced at him — only to do a double-take. Your eyes widened. 

Wait.

Were they really gods?

“The spirit is gone, but very little of my power has dwindled,” Gaara added.

You leaned into Gaara’s side, allowing this new information to sink in. You were curious, so curious, and for once your father’s intentions did nothing to pervert that curiosity; you were enthralled.

You tilted your head. “What kind of —“ 

But then you realized; you were close again, so close, even closer than when you were in his lap nights ago. Your arms fastened around his neck, his hand holding your waist. There was no startling need to get away this time, only a growing need to dispel the remaining inches. 

Gaara stared at you from the corner of his eye, smiling. No blush, no fluster. 

The sun shone in your eyes. You cupped a hand over your forehead to visor them.

“The sun looks amazing on you …” 

You were not prepared for the husk in Gaara’s voice. Heat colored your cheeks. You raised your head to him. Your heartbeat quickened in your throat as your eyes got lost in the turquoise of his. That sweet, serene green —

A gust of wind blew past Gaara’s face to ruin the moment. 

You gasped, spun your head. “Not funny!” You yelled.

Kankuro and Temari only laughed and flew ahead of the two of you.

It was a full three hours of flight before a town, nestled into a cliff, came into view.

It was hard, after the fanfare of the last three hours, to both literally and metaphorically come down to earth. The moment Gaara had you on the ground, and the four of you huddled at the town’s gates, you playfully socked Kankuro’s arm. 

“O — ow!” Kankuro chuckled, rubbing his arm. 

“Why didn’t you tell me he was gonna do that?” You play-hissed in his ear.

“It was my idea, actually,” Temari said smugly.

Your hand flew to your chest to feign shock. “Female solidarity is dead!”

“Let’s hurry to the hotel,” Gaara said. “While it’s still nice out.”

The four of you ushered into town, as incognito as possible to avoid causing a stir. You wove your way through the streets when wet hit your nose. Salt graced your tongue when your lips parted.

The sea.

Excitement added élan to your steps. You barely maintained the proper pleasantries as you entered the hotel lobby. The group revealed identities and startled the receptionist — along with the rest of the staff, one of them prompted to fetch the hotel owner. 

“Lord Kazekage!” He bowed furiously, sweating just as much. “And his lovely siblings! Oh, oh, this is such a surprise! What an honor!”

“Sir,” one of the staff whispered in his ear, “I’ve seen her. She’s Lord Boutoku’s daughter, she’s marrying the Kazekage next month —” 

“LORD BOUTOKU’S DAUGHTER —?!”

Kankuro slapped a hand over the owner’s mouth as people in the lobby looked away from their newspapers and fine breakfasts to mind the commotion. “Mind keeping it quiet! Someone might overhear!”

The owner fished a handkerchief from his pocket to dab himself. “Yes, of course …! My apologies, Lord Kankuro …!”

“Look,” Kankuro’s eyes flickered every which way as he leaned in conspiratorially, “we’re here on a little weekend vacation, all right? We’d appreciate it if you helped us lay low.”

“Oh, oh.” You were sure the owner would go into shock. “Of course, certainly, oh, whatever you need, we’d be more than happy to provide!”

“Thank you, sir.” Temari was all charm and smiles as she slid a mysterious gold card to the receptionist behind the desk. “If you could just set us up with rooms now.”

“Of course, of course!” the owner said. “Only the finest for the Kazekage and his family!”

And he hadn’t lied; the rooms were enormous. It occurred to you just how little Gaara had to actually do as the Kazekage; only a few minutes had passed and already he had been secured the most luxurious room due to his title. It was decided: You and Gaara would share while Temari and Kankuro would have their own separate quarters. Gaara’s, of course, was the largest. He grew concerned on your behalf and asked if you wanted a room of your own, but, as there were two beds in the suite, you didn’t mind. And anyway, Gaara was the most trustworthy man in the history of men. 

“And besides.” You held back giggles as Temari and Kankuro collapsed on plushy couch cushions. “Your room has the best accommodations anyway — we’ll all just end up congregating in here anyway.”

“If you’re sure about it.” Gaara let himself smile as he examined the room. “We really must thank the owner for his hospitality. They are nice rooms.”

“A big tip!” Kankuro said, sinking into the cushions with pleased sighs. “The biggest!”

“I’m so sick of buildings,” You said, nearly bouncing up and down. “I want the beach!” 

“We might as well,” Gaara said. “I would hate to make you wait any longer.”

You gulped, imagining that phrase in a different context. What’s wrong with you lately? Too much Icha Icha!

The four of you retrieved the beach appropriate clothing and items from your bags and left the hotel. It didn’t help that the hotel had such lovely views of the beach — the bluest water you had ever witnessed. So close.

It was a five-minute walk until the beach, its plush sands transitioned from orange-beige to white, came into sight.

“Whoa,” Kankuro said. 

The waves curled and laid on the shore. Your eyes widened.

You ripped your shoes off and ripped past people cluttering the beach. You were through with your inhibitions. You expected to hear someone call for you to come back, only to glance over your shoulder and see Temari and Kankuro following you into the water. You let out a delighted scream as you plunged headfirst into the toiling waves.

Only then did you remember you didn’t know how to swim.

“Okay,” Kankuro motioned what was called a backstroke, “just lean your arm out like this —“

“No!” You squealed. “I’ll drown!” 

“Don’t be silly!” Temari said. Temari, who had decided she was already tired of the water, opted instead for a beach chair, sunglasses, and a smoothie underneath a shading umbrella. “You’ve got three of the strongest shinobi in the world watching over you. No one would let you drown — especially Gaara.”

Gaara, against all odds, could swim himself. He shadowed you in the water, holding his arm out to you.

 You pouted. “I thought neither of you had ever been to the beach.”

“Well, we know how to swim,” Kankuro said. “We’re shinobi, remember? Trained for every occasion.”

“I can continue helping her,” Gaara said as Kankuro made to help you. Something unknown passed between them, and Kankuro backed off.

“I’m, uh, headed back to shore.” Kankuro performed his so-called backstroke. “Take care, you two!”

You waved him goodbye.

“You’re doing well,” Gaara said. “Do you like the beach?”

“I love it!” You cried. “I can’t wait to catch starfish and, oh!” — You let go of Gaara — “shells —!”

“(Y/n!) —!”

Without his arm, you went under. Your cries transmuted to bubbles as you flailed. A wave brushed you aside, jolting you into panic. You flailed harder. Hands grabbed you and pulled you to the surface. 

“Are you all right?” Gaara’s voice was muffled by the water in your ears.

You looked over your shoulder to see Gaara holding you. Wild crimson locks clung to his face. Shirtless.

“I—” You spit saltwater out before answering, blinked water from your eyes. “Yes.” 

Your skills improved as Gaara taught you the basics, and soon you could bob your head over the water without support. Pleased with this progress, you decided on a break. You two emerged on land to admire the view. 

“Finally,” Temari said. “Thought you two would be at sea forever.”

“It’s really nice, Temari.” You pat your hair dry. “Sure you don’t wanna join?”

“I realized I prefer the view.” Temari took another sip of her drink — only to suck at the bottom of her cup. “I’m gonna get another.”

“I’ll come with,” Kankuro said. “I’m starving.”

You and Gaara were left alone on the beach now. You looked back at the waves. They coiled, crested, and collapsed to bask on the white sand with rhythmic harmony, as though dancing to a tune you were too ignorant to hear. You sighed.

“It’s absolutely beautiful,” You said.

“Yes,” Gaara said. “It is …”

“But how can there be a sea next to a desert?” You said. “It just doesn’t seem possible …”

“It’s indeed possible, if the air on the desert side is dry enough.”

Amazing … You looked out into the horizon. The world was such a magical, beautiful place — and your delusional father had kept you from it.

“You know,” You let your towel slip into your lap, “back home, it’s said that our oasis was once a sea. A lot of us believe that.” You paused; did you believe that? You hadn’t thought much of it, only thought it was such a pretty myth. “Or a gift from a spirit, after our first village head, Goro, slayed a horrible beast.” 

“It sounds like an amazing place,” Gaara said. “I hope, one day, you will take me to see it in person.”

Your father shadowed the conversation, dimming the light of the tales running rapid in your head. 

“Kankuro has told me some things about it, though little has been written,” Gaara continued, looking straight ahead. The shade of the umbrella shrouded all but one leg as he propped an elbow on a knee. “About how it has magical properties. Is that true?”

You cast your gaze to your feet, which you burrowed into the sand. Your knees were hugged to your chest. “I don’t really know. The truth is, I’ve never seen it myself. Father forbade me, said I’m not ‘ready.’ Everyone I know, I know from him.” Like everything else. “He’s told me stories … I just know people who aren’t from our village can’t access it or drink its water. They need permission from the village head. But …”

You leaned forward to take his hand, enamored with the way your fingers intertwined with his. 

“Once we’re married, you’ll be considered family,” You said. “We’ll see it together.”

Gaara ran a thumb over one of your fingers, considering you with a faint smile. “Yes, I’d like that.”

You unearthed a new dream. You gave it life and love and cradled it close to your heart. You watered it, as Gaara did his beloved plants, to keep it strong, and so it flourished in your mind’s eye: You and Gaara, visiting the oasis together, lounging underneath palm trees and sparkling water. You made to clench your hand until you remembered Gaara was holding it. 

I can’t let Father destroy this dream. I  can’t.

Gaara looked over your shoulder. “Oh, Temari and Kankuro are coming back …”

Temari and Kankuro sulked back to your section on the beach.

“The stands have nothing good,” Kankuro sighed. “Let’s go in the hotel to eat.”

“That’s Kankuro language for ‘let’s gamble,’” Temari snickered.

“I would never kid about food!” Kankuro argued. “I’m seriously hungry.”

“So am I.” You stood and dusted off your skirt. “Let’s go”

“Very well.” Gaara reclaimed your hand to help him off the beach, gave it a squeeze. “It will be on me.”

You secured a round table in one of the hotel’s swanky restaurants. It turned out Temari was right, because the moment your order came, Kankuro snatched his tray and made his way to the seductive poker tables to lose only the gods knew how much money.

“So predictable.” Temari rolled her eyes, crossing her legs at the table. 

You played with your fries, twirling them in the ketchup — something that would’ve gotten you a firm lecture back home — while Gaara set down his glass. 

“I meant to ask you both,” Gaara began. “When you went out shopping, did anything interesting happen? Did you talk about anything?”

You and Temari froze. You focused on the smiley-faces you were making with your ketchup pile while Temari scrambled for words. 

Your sister told me in so many words that she would rip my throat off if I so much as laid a finger on you — which makes all this a hundred times harder …

“Uh, I — aha, well.” Temari continued to stammer, worrying a napkin in her hands. “We …”

“Just girl stuff, that was all it was!” You chirped. 

“Ye—Yeah!” Temari said. She waved him off. “Nothing that would interest you, or — or any man, really!”

“Any man …” Gaara parroted. “I see.”

“No offense!” You nudged him assuredly. 

He raised his head. “Does that mean you discussed the wedding?”

“Hm?” You blinked. You were caught off guard; in fact, there had been no discussion of the wedding since you’d arrived. The wedding that was meant to be a wedding.

The wedding that was only a sham to get you here. 

“I think I would like a more traditional wedding, like Naruto and Hinata had,” Gaara said, surprising you with his forwardness. “You would look beautiful in traditional attire.”

“Uh.” This was not something you thought he would ever have any interest in.

“It seems like something the council would approve of, considering how stubborn they are about the old ways of doing things.” Gaara stiffened. “Only if you wanted. I thought we could discuss it over this vacation.”

“Gaara!” Temari scooted smoothie number five away, scandalized by her brother’s forwardness. Clearly, she had never met this version of her brother before, either. “What brought this on?”

“Our friends from the Leaf have been ecstatic about the news,” Gaara said. “And, as it’s only two or so weeks away now …”

“I think we should wait until we’re all gathered to talk about this, don’t you?” Temari’s amicable, sweet-older-sister voice was so incongruous with the woman you had come to know. 

“I agree,” You hastened, thankful for the save. “That way we can all be in the know. I mean, Kankuro’s not even sitting here.”

“I think you may be right,” Gaara said bashfully. “Sorry about that. I guess I just got carried away for a minute there.”

“Not at all,” You said before biting into another fry. He’s so cute.

You had come to realize there was nothing quite like Gaara flattery; he was so earnest, so sincere. And he was excited about the wedding, about marrying you. The wings of your heart brushed your ribcage. But you didn’t want to have this discussion; it brought your lie(s) to the forefront of your mind. It was too raw, and you were not yet strong enough to weather it, to invite the others into your delusions. Only you could have these fantasies in the privacy of your mind where nothing could reach them.

But it was another facet to the dream you’d begun to nourish. 

A new thought slotted in with the rest: Gaara mentioned Naruto, seventh Hokage — his friend.

“You’ve said before that you know Naruto Uzumaki personally.” You leaned in with curiosity. “What’s he like?”

“An absolute goofball,” Temari said.

“A true friend,” Gaara amended. “And an incredibly strong and formidable opponent.”

Temari shrugged. “Yeah, that, too.”

Gaara began sharing amazing anecdotes about his adventures with his other shinobi friends, how he and Gaara had fought after the attack on Konoha (you paid special attention to your meal, averting your eyes from anyone else), how the Leaf ninja had changed his perspective on life, how addicted he was to ramen. Your head spun with it all, especially when they used what you suspected were special shinobi words from their lexicon.

“And he was trained by Jiraiya,” You said, awed. “The same Jiraiya who wrote the Icha Icha series?”

“That’s the one,” Temari twirled her fork with sarcasm, head in her palm. 

“This is all so incredible …” You said.

“Really?” Gaara said. “Is that so?”

“It’s a shame I can never meet him …” You said solemnly. “If things had turned out differently, he would be coming to the wedding as well — I could even get a signed copy!”

“The world is so cruel.” Temari feigned sadness.

Gaara wore an expression you had come to know when he was deep in thought. “I could get Naruto to arrange something, regardless.”

“Really?” You said as Temari choked on her drink.

“Gaara, no,” she said.

“No, no.” You echoed her sentiments, albeit for a different reason. “You’ve done enough for me.”

Blingblingbling. A series of metallic sounds blared as machines blazed their dispensers with coins. Gaara furrowed his brows. You could tell he was not fond of the hotel’s busy atmosphere, the endless commotion — not to mention the cigarette smoke.

“Let’s go to our rooms,” You said. “It’s getting late.”

Gaara perked. “Really? If you don’t mind …”

“Not at all.” You faced Temari. “Right, Temari?”

“I could get a break from the beach,” Temari said, waving the smoke away. “And the smoke.”

The three of you took the elevator back to the room floors and traipse the hallways, looking for your respective rooms. 

“Thanks for saving me back there, by the way,” Temari said, cupping a hand over her mouth conspiratorially. 

You chuckle. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I’m sorry for the way I acted in general,” Temari said. “I’ve been meaning to apologize, actually. I was hard on you. But … Gaara’s my little brother and all, I’m sure you understand.”

“Absolutely,” You said. “Something tells me my …” You fought a stutter in your throat. “… brother would have done the same for me.”

Hideo would always be the gnawing pang at your heart. You realized that as you approached the knob to admit you and Gaara into the room.

You turned the knob — 

Crying. Wails.

You gasped. “Who is that?”

The three of you looked to the corner of the hallway — the source of the sound — where Kankuro was rounding, tears streaking his makeup. 

“Kankuro?” You said. 

“What’s happened?” Gaara said with startling authority.

“I’ve …” He sank to his knees in the hallway. “I lost so much money!”

“Oh, no!” You cupped your mouth. 

“It’s those damn scheming geezers!” Kankuro cried, throwing his hand, tears wobbling down his face. “They cheated me, saw me coming from a mile away!”

“I told you not to get cocky if you were gonna gamble!” Temari said. “Now look at you!”

You and Gaara chuckled at the sight and each goodnight to them, but you were sure neither of them heard you over Kankuro’s crying and Temari’s yelling.

The next day, the blue of the sky was forced to contend with the weak wispy clouds breezing past, shielding and unveiling the sun at their leisure.

You admired them as you emerged from underneath the water. The sky enveloped your vision, and for a second you were sure you had been transported to heaven before Gaara broke you from your reverie:

“You’re advancing fast,” he praised, stationery in the water beside you.

You swerved, so you were across one another. “That’s because I have such a good teacher.”

Gaara smiled wordlessly as you initiated your novice backstroke. The irony of the Kazekage of Sunagakure teaching you how to swim was not at all lost on you. Chuuyou had worried about you being so far from his watchful eye, but you had insisted he keep more of a distance.

“My Lady,” he had said, his soft tone cut with an imploring edge, “I encourage you to reconsider.”

“I’m fine, Chuuyou.” You did your best to curb your annoyance, but it came out as a hiss, anyway. He’s just doing the job Father assigned him. “I would just like a little space. Please?”

And he had started giving it to you, no matter how unwillingly. You didn’t want Chuuyou so close; he was such a reminder of Father, of your real reason for being with Gaara and his siblings. You wanted all reminders gone. You wanted to fall into the dream.

Now, you couldn’t see Chuuyou anywhere on the beach. A pinch of anxiety previously holding your chest hostage released, relaxed into nothingness. 

You splashed Gaara with water, giggling. “Race you to the shore!”

And Gaara, once again, didn’t answer; his answer came in the sound of him trading water with precision and speed. He was strong, much stronger than he looked, although you were not ignorant of the faint trace of muscle his lean form possessed. 

He beat you, of course. He helped you from the water, the beach waves dispensing their white suds around your ankles. 

“Oh!” You looked over the faint red burn forming on Gaara’s skin. 

“Hm, I see.” He inspected his arms, which bore a few red spots. “I forgot.”

“You have to be more careful! Come here.” You took his hand, leading him back to the mismatched collection of beach towels you had secured on the beach. “I’ll put some on you.”

Kankuro and Temari were mysteriously missing. While you were sure Kankuro was engrossed in a life-or-death rematch with the old men who had swindled him the night before, you were not entirely sure what was keeping Temari.

You suspected, maybe, she was willingly leaving you alone with Gaara, who you hadn’t had a quiet moment with since only the gods know when. Unless, of course, you took the night before into consideration. For at least thirty minutes, you had pretended to sleep, pretended to not be aware of Gaara’s loving gaze on you in the dim tangerine light of the hotel room, only for him to fall asleep and you to turn the tables on him, staring at him semi-darkness with a racing heart you were hopeless to still. He had not even touched you; the only words he had exchanged after you had traded your beach clothes in for some pajamas had been a simple, hospitable goodnight, and still you couldn’t take your mind off of the intimacy of it all. Despite the two beds, despite everything. 

Now, you were squeezing sunscreen into your hand, ready to massage it into his skin?

Gaara resisted. “You don’t have to,” he insisted. 

You rubbed the cream together with your hands. “It’s all right, I don’t want you to get hurt — the sun is really intense.”

You ignored the way your heart skipped at the idea of massaging his bare skin. 

I’m helping him, that’s all …

Gaara acquiesced. He closed his eyes when your hands fell on him. The sunscreen cooled underneath your palms as they made a trail down his arm. 

“I’m usually more careful than this,” he said as you leaned in to address the arm across you. “It must have skipped my mind.”

You didn’t answer; your mouth went dry as you preoccupied yourself with how smooth and soft his skin felt under your fingers, like refined virgin marble. It was as though he had never been touched by another living soul in all his life. You felt blessed, honored. 

A low rumble escaped Gaara’s throat as you leaned farther, the plush of your breast sinking into his arm and you jerked away, conscious of it. 

You’re just helping …

“Does it feel … okay?” You asked.

“It does.”

Gaara leaned his head away so that you could massage into his neck, where your fingers brushed against the nape of his neck, felt the slightest indication of soft red hair beneath your fingernail. The slight of red hair under your fingers — you wanted to thread them in his forest of hair, before transferring to his chest. You could feel the ghosts of muscle you detected earlier, hard and … and steady. Gaara sat back to give you more access, but it only encouraged you to admire him more; the cliff of his jaw and, eyes trailing down even further, his lips …

Helping.

Your finger grazed one of his nipples, and Gaara flinched underneath the touch. He cracked an eye open at you, but you refused to meet it, pretending it didn’t happen by moving next to his back, lathering the span of it with sunscreen. 

“There.” Your mouth was so parched the word almost didn’t form. “You should be all … set.”

You noticed the thoughtful, intense look Gaara was giving you. Your throat constricted, feeling more exposed than he was under his attention. If this was an Icha Icha novel, you knew he would lean forward, cup the back of your head and …

“Thank you,” Gaara’s voice was light.

You only nodded. You curled sinful hands in your lap, the sensation of Gaara’s skin tingling yours. 

“… Excuse me?”

You were grateful for the distraction as your head turned to the source of the new little voice. 

A little boy had crept toward the two of you on the beach, but he was staring at Gaara.

“… Are you th — the … Kazekage?”

Gaara turned to you for help and you sighed.

“The jig is up, I suppose,” You muttered to him. 

“It’s true then?” the boy perked up in anticipation of Gaara’s answer.

Clearly emboldened, some of the boy’s other friends and playmates came to his side, waiting.

Gaara smiled and after a brief pause, “Yes. I am.”

Murmurs of amazement. 

“Cool!” the boy said. “Can you show us some stuff?”

The kids crowded Gaara with their strung-out “pleases” and adorable pleading.

You leaned to whisper to Gaara, “Do it!”

He smiled before turning his attention to the beach. Sand began to stir and move, and you were glad the beach itself was much less crowded, with only the children doodling there, because sand began to rise and churn. Gaara grew sand structures on the beach. You furrowed your brows, following his vision as the sand morphed and solidified into …

Gaara had raised a giant sandcastle, complete with terraces and a drawbridge which plopped onto the beach floor to admit everyone.

The children rushed to the castle to admire it. 

“Wow …” You gawked, entering into it. “It’s like a dollhouse!” 

“Temari and Kankuro used to ask me to make things with sand all the time,” Gaara said as the children took your entering for clear permission and began to flood the castle. 

Slides rolled down from spaces in the railings, little windows above the balustrades cut squares of sunlight for the perfect game of hopscotch. An atrium admitted invited more sunlight. 

You giggled as they ran and played. 

“This is amazing!” The little boy said, swinging on makeshift monkey bars. He plopped down and approached Gaara. “I wanna be just like you when I grow up, Lord Kazekage.”

Gaara looked stunned, before recovering with a gentle smile. “I hope everyone enjoys themselves …”

An hour or so passed while the two of you played with the children. Gaara constructed kaiju out of the stand and, having taken lessons from Kankuro, puppeteered them into fights as the children cheered on their favorites. Children took turns on the slides, falling into a giant whirlpool Gaara made. He encouraged you to go last, and your laughter turned to screams as you were propelled into the air and caught by Gaara’s forgiving sand.

“I want a castle just like this when we marry.” You admired the sandcastle from the outside as children tired themselves out around you. The sun had intensified, bringing with it a heat to parch your mouth dry.

You waited for Gaara’s interjection, but when he stayed quiet, you turned to him, only to see his attention was away from the beach, near a rise of obsidian rocks.

“I think there’s a cave over there,” Gaara said.

“I’ve never seen a cave before …” You said.

He turned to you. “Would you like to?”

You smiled. “What about the —?”

“I think they’re more than occupied.” Gaara gestured to the children still running and playing in and out of the sandcastle. “They won’t miss us.”

You smiled, nodded. “Let’s go.”

Rocks erected and curved like crescent moons to protect its own private island; a lagoon. 

The two of you swam to explore, the way led by the sounds of seagulls and rushing waves. Gaara chaperoned you, but you swam without aid until the two of you came to the rocky shore. 

You raised yourself from the waters by grabbing a rock for purchase, Gaara not far behind.

“I knew it,” You said triumphantly.

A small alcove indicated a cave not far off. 

“Let’s go in!” You said, any and all fear you might have had to explore such a place dulled by the fact Gaara was with you. “I’ve got to find some souvenirs for this trip.”

“All right, then,” Gaara obliged.

The cave’s ceiling cast shadows over the water. A hole in its rocky ceiling created a natural spotlight at its center. Color winked in your periphery, hinting at aquatic flowers accosted by the rolling waters, and you wondered if you could find petals lost in the water.

“This is amazing,” You said. “It’s like earth meeting water.” You twirled in the water to see Gaara admiring you thoughtfully. You became self-conscious. Nerves constricted your speech. “What’s wrong?”

 “Nothing,” Gaara muttered as he inched closer. “You are very brave; you try new things all the time.”

You stilled — only to remember your imperative to stay moving in the water. He called me brave. You weren’t so sure. You only had the nerve to explore because you were aided by the Kazekage. But still, you opened your mouth, only to close it again; never had anyone ever complimented you on anything other than your “beauty.” You struggled to receive it.

Am I brave? How would I know …?

“I would like to thank you, (Y/n),” Gaara went on, cradling your name in his deep, dulcet tone. “You’ve done nothing but smile since the moment you came to my village. It must have been difficult to come here, all things considered … So, thank you.”

You were silent. His warm words blanketed you. It had been hard. Frightening. Everything was foreign. Nothing felt like home. And there was the weight of your — you swallowed — mission. What was this ability Gaara had to make you feel so seen? Now exposed, not undressed, but … read. Appreciated. Lovingly studied. Annotated. 

You became struck with the intimacy of the cave; it was only you and Gaara. You were so far from shore. The scene was beginning to soften, its edges watercoloring until it seemed more dream than reality. The water had to rival the peaceful turquoise of Gaara’s eyes as you became lost in them. 

He caressed your cheek so gingerly you flinched at the hand you hadn’t seen rise.

“I would … like to try something. Is that all right?”

Your mouth refused to form words; you nodded your consent.

Gaara’s other hand came to rest against your hip, steadying you in water as he had done in air. He leaned toward you, into you. You blinked water from your lashes, frozen everywhere else. You were in a dream:

Gaara’s lips brushed against yours.

His kiss was gentle, virgin, but you felt the soft plant of his lips on your own, and your soul departed from your flesh despite its lack of violence. Your eyes fluttered close, your hands resting on his shoulders.

Centuries later, Gaara moved away. You opened your eyes to see him nestled among the stars clouding your vision.

“I’ve …” Gaara lowered his gaze. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

You struggled to recover. If you were speechless before, he had managed to eviscerate your vocabulary, your mental library set ablaze. Your heart was a hummingbird trapped in your chest. “Li — likewise …”

Gaara looked up, concerned. “Was it okay?”

You shook your head — until you realized you would have to couple it with words to assuage his concern. “No, no! It was — Gaara … it was amazing.”

Gaara smiled. “… I was worried. Thank you for letting me kiss you.”

You returned his smile. “Thank you for the souvenir.”

You were plopped back into reality, with the sea and the salt and the seagulls singing their songs overhead. An awkward silence punctured it all. You simply stared at him. And stared and stared and stared.

He grazed a hand over your wet forearm. “Would you like to do it again —?”

“Yes …” You said before he could finish, wrapping arms around him. 

“Gaara! (Y/n)!”

It was Kankuro’s voice, far away, yet loud enough to dispel the dream entirely.

“Is that …?” Gaara trailed.

“Gaara!”

You broke away from him. “We should head back — there might be trouble.”

Gaara didn’t object, following you out. You could detect the significant dots of Temari and Kankuro on the shore as you two returned. 

“What’s going on?” You said as you and Gaara emerged from the water. 

Kankuro’s thousand-yard stare was your only reply. “I’ve done it,” he said quietly. “I’ve finally done.”

“What, Kankuro?” Gaara asked. 

Kankuro thrust something in your faces. You fixed eyes on it. A medallion the color of the sun stared back. 

You gasped. “But that’s —!”

“One of the old geezers won it off a pirate years back!” Kankuro said triumphantly.

“He begged me to help him beat the guys at the table,” Temari exclaimed, arms crossed. “How much is it, anyway?”

“Temari,” Kankuro deadpanned, “it’s worth thousands.”

Temari’s gasp echoed yours, as though she were doused with cold water —

“I take back everything I ever said about you, Kankuro!” Temari said, fingers knitted and stars in her eyes. 

“That’s a once in a lifetime, I bet!” You said. “I’ve only seen one of those things once in my entire life.”

“Who would bet something this valuable in a game of cards?” Temari said. “Men are so reckless —“

“Congratulations, Kankuro!” Gaara said. “We knew you could do it.”

“Me, too,” Kankuro spun the coin with his thumb and caught it, satisfied with himself. 

“Me, too,” Temari patted him on the back. “Now you can help pay off the Sand’s debt!”

It was a second before Kankuro realized what Temari was saying — and then the crying and begging began.

“So, you two been up to much?” Temari said. She eyed the giant sandcastle of Gaara’s making and the kids who had turned it into their personal playground, all while ignoring Kankuro’s crying in the background. She raised her brows. “Ah, I see. Anything else?”

Neither you nor Gaara answered. A few seconds ticked by before Temari blanched.

“Nothing much,” Gaara said finally.

You kept eyes on your toes, hoping the red on your face could be excused for the beach heat.

Gaara watched you return to his hotel room, saltwater washed from your hair, sighing. Kankuro sat on one of the couches, grumbling and cradling his precious coin to his chest, while Temari lounged on another, drink in hand.

“Those kids must’ve had a field day,” Temari said. “It was sweet of you to do that, Gaara.”

“It was (Y/n)’s idea, actually,” Gaara corrected. Warmth spread over him as he remembered the parents coming to collect their children, their little hands raised in farewell as they called it a day. He had decided to leave the sandcastle where it was, however, so they might play another day.

“It was your expertise,” You said, patting your damp hair with the towel. “Just hopin’ those families will keep us being here a secret.”

Gaara watched you inquisitively.

“It’s the least they can do,” Kankuro said sullenly, kicking his feet on an ottoman, fuzzy slippers dangling from its edge. “We built them a freakin’ fast food playground for free.” His face softened. “They did look real cute out there, though. And playtime is important.”

“I’m sure they will!” You settled into a chair. “It must’ve taken a great deal of chakra control, as well!” 

Temari paused. “You know about chakra?”

“Of course I do,” You said, waving her off.

“No, you don’t.”

The room paused. Heads turned to Gaara. 

You tilted your head at him. “What do you mean?”

Gaara didn’t answer. He raised from his chair. He fished a shuriken from his pocket and threw it —

It pierced the flesh of your throat.

“Gaara —!” Temari and Kankuro yelled in unison.

You clutched your throat and Gaara waited for blood. There was no blood.

You poofed away.

“A clone!” Kankuro shot from his chair.

“We need to find her,” Gaara said. “Now.”

The violent colors of the sunset bled into the horizon; burnt oranges and crimsons drowned the sky. You hugged knees to your chest as the suds of waves kissed your feet. 

Your fingers were touched to the skin of your lips. 

He had kissed you. Gaara, the Kazekage, had kissed you, and he had wanted to do it again.

He wanted you. It was clear. You wanted him.

And yet you lied to him.

It was not like you had imagined. Nothing about this trip to Sunagakure was, but this … was especially off-kilter. You had imagined a filthy, detached nightly tryst. Your yukata torn from your body by feverish hands as the Kazekage ravaged you — not asking, only taking. And, after defiling you and drifting to sleep, you would unwind your treacherous necklace from your neck and drip poison into his snoring mouth …

It was what your father had intended and what you had expected.

Instead … The ghost of Gaara’s hand tingled your hip, and his gentle kiss had imprinted itself on your lipskin. So sweet, so …

You searched the horizon. Hideo, what do I do? What would you have me do?

Did it matter if you chose to remove yourself from your father’s plan? Gaara is exactly who you would’ve wanted for me, Hideo. You were still lying. Even if your father came and killed you for being a traitor, you would still be lying … No. It was more than that. That was skin deep. The shame went deeper to puncture veins and bone. You were the lie. A pretty wife for the Kazekage, come to make peace. Come to destroy it.

You stood, nausea wobbling your step, and wretched your necklace from your neck. 

Your necklace was a lie, too. 

A weapon.

Did it matter if, in your madness, you had decided to hang on to it to protect Gaara, or yourself, if the time came? You stumbled, eyes returning to the horizon.

You would throw it into the sea and let the water devour it. 

The pendant of it sat in your palm, cool against your skin. Your hand made a fist around it, ready to —

A force at your side. You collapsed to the ground. The necklace flew from your hands. Your side exploded with pain. Something wove to restrict your hands behind your back.

You cried out, groaning with pain and barely able to register it before harsh hands yanked on your constricted wrists. They hoisted you to your feet by something — someone.

You screamed — only for a hand to clasp to your mouth.

“You’re quite the prize. I’ll admit that at least,” said a voice in your ear, low and masculine. “And in more ways than one. I can only imagine what Lord Boutoku will trade for you.”

You struggled as you were dragged backwards, the beach shore growing smaller. 

No. Nonononono.

Someone had found out, someone had found you —

A blast from behind you and the hands holding you were gone. You stumbled to remain standing. You turned around to see your captor crash on the beach floor.

“Get away from her!”

You turned. Temari — fan unfolded at her side — and Kankuro were running toward you. Gaara mysteriously absent, but your eyes searched for him, nevertheless.

Temari took you in her arms before maneuvering you behind her. Your captor was on his feet now, knife-weapon in hand.

“Heh,” the guy smirked. “I can take you two.”

Kankuro’s matching smirk was deadlier. “What about three?”

Sand pooled, tentacled, and shot forward to grab your captor. It hoisted the man in the air as he screamed. It bound his arms and legs.

Your eyes widened as sand cocooned him. “What in the world —?”

Sssssssss…

You frowned, concentrating on the sound. A snake? No … Sand rustled. You turned to see something rising on the beach. It emerged slowly, taking on the image of a man — it was a man. 

Gaara.

Gaara’s image solidified to become flesh and bone, hair and skin and clothing.

“Gaara …” You were relieved — until you felt the rage radiating from him. 

Even from where the man lay trapped, towering in the air, you could see the color leave his face.

“The — the Kazekage …!”

“You knew Lord Boutoku’s daughter was here, but not the Kazekage?” Kankuro mocked. He clicked his tongue. “You’re even dumber than you look.”

“Explain yourself,” Gaara ordered.

“H — Hey.” The man trembled in the sand’s death grip. “I didn’t know — I’m sorry, okay? I — I take it back. I never would’ve hurt the girl, all right? I only wanted —“

“Your prize?” Gaara’s voice was low, his stare hardening. “And what if she hadn’t given you the information you wanted?”

A deceptive curl of sand wrapped around the man’s throat like a python. You turned back to Temari and Kankuro, who were watching with detached amusement.

“I — I only wanted money, okay! That’s all!” 

Temari feigned a coo. “Aww. You’ll be getting a bit more than that now, I’m afraid.” 

“You’re a disgrace …” Murder lived in Gaara’s eyes. 

Sand constricted, crushed, concealing your captor’s tremors as he screamed in terror. The amusement was gone from Temari and Kankuro, replaced with a growing concern.

“Gaara!” Kankuro said, inching closer. “C’mon. Don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“Gaara!” Temari hissed. “I thought you were only going to scare him, don’t tell me you —?”

“Gaara.” Your voice was small among the screaming and the perennial rustling of sand and your rapid heart in your ears. “Please, don’t. Please … it’s all right.”

Gaara’s hand flinched beside him, as though desperately resisting the urge to clench it. His glare did not leave the man he threatened to kill.

“Please …” You pleaded softly. 

Gaara tore himself away from the scene, stalking away.

The sand lost its shape and crashed like water downward. The man plummeted to the ground. You yelped as a sickening crack sounded through the beach, and then silence. It was only until you saw the man rise from his place, one leg making up for the mangled other, were you able to breathe again. He was alive.

But barely.

Sand and Oasis ninja flooded the hotel. You felt bad for the other clientele, who were looking around for answers and found few. 

Your captor had, apparently, heard about your staying at the hotel and, once getting a glimpse of you at the beach, had created a clone of you to fool everyone. Afterward, it was only a means of finding you alone to make a move. He had been carded away and, despite the horrible crack you’d heard, had only managed to break literally an arm and a leg. Nothing more. Until more information was known, the guests were either encouraged to leave or sequester themselves in their rooms. 

The rogue had managed, in the fray of the vacation, to fool even Chuuyou. Who, you had a feeling, would be glued to you even more than before from now on.

You were fine. Slightly shaken, and your side still screamed with pain if you grew too bold, but otherwise fine, your necklace having been returned to you by Temari to weigh you down like an anvil. You were more concerned for Gaara, who had not spoken a word to anyone since walking off the beach. He lingered in the corner of the lobby. He said nothing to no one. 

“I am so, so very sorry for this.” The hotel owner bowed profusely in the lobby, over and over, as the situation resolved. “The family of the Kazekage, please … Whatever we can do to rectify this horrific event — please accept my apologies, oh gods, oh oh oh —“

“It’s all right,” Kankuro said soberly, attention clearly elsewhere. You had never seen him so serious. He shook his head at Temari. “You were right. Damn, I’ve been reckless …”

“No, Kankuro.” Temari petted him on the shoulder. “It’s all right; it wasn’t just your responsibility —”

“No,” Kankuro swatted her away, “it’s not all right. I am the Kazekage’s guard. Imagine what could’ve happened?”

Temari was quiet, face soured by the multitude of ugly possibilities. A strange knowing pulsed the air, passing between the two of them and excluding you.

You recalled their faces. At first, Temari and Kankuro had been derisive, hardly bothered at all by Gaara’s rage. As though they had witnessed it a million times. It had startled you. Only later, when it seemed Gaara would kill him, did they move to stop him … 

But something gnawed at you, like a mosquito stabbing for blood, refusing to be ignored. The way Gaara’s sand had curled up around your captor. The cocoon. How ready it was to envelope him, seal him away.

A sand burial. 

… Wasn’t that what Father had called it in his letter? … 

… Where had he gotten that terminology?

Something gross and lingering layered over you like the remnants of a bad dream, like snake-skin. It crawled up your skin. For a split second, you imagined Hideo in the man’s place, and the need to retch sent you grappling at the back of a chair.

Hadn’t Joseki tried to warn you, tried to stop you? 

What if he had good reason?

Seas could not contain the blood that boy has shed.

No. It didn’t make sense — nothing made sense.

You had so many questions and no way to get them. Gaara had moved to protect you. A warm sense of comfort sat beside the gross feeling.

Gaara, kind, loving, his villagers loved him, his siblings loved him, he was kind to you, had kissed you — 

And yet, you couldn’t reconcile the murder you had seen in Gaara’s face, holding the man he was ready to kill (for you!!) in the air …

Dizzy, you steered yourself in a chair. 

It got Gaara’s attention. “Are you all right, (Y/n)?” 

You startled at the sound of his voice. “Ye — Yes, I’m fine …”

Gaara studied you. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No,” You lied, side sore and aching for Epsom salts.

“Are you sure?”

His voice was gentle. You looked up at him, noted the concern in his face, those lips you had kissed only hours ago. Looking into his eyes ignited a storm inside you. It shouldn’t have been possible to feel so much just by the mere sight of someone. 

Did you kill Hideo, Gaara?

“Yes.”

“We’re not staying,” Kankuro told the hotel owner. “We’re too vulnerable here. Too confined.”

“I understand,” the owner said. “If there’s anything I can do … Anything at all …”

The desert was quiet. The four of you were on your way back to Suna. The emergency tents from the carriages had been risen and now sat like tiny pyramids in the starry night.

You snuck away from yours, coming out from its flap into the chilly desert air, such a stark contrast to the heat during the day. Gaara’s tent sat adjacent to yours, a soft orange candlelight emanating from its slit. It was long into the night before Gaara’s shadow could no longer be seen flickering on the tent’s cloth walls. Somehow, he had found sleep.

You didn’t know what you were doing or why. Despite Gaara being the last person you should want to see, all you wanted was to be near him, as though the truth you couldn’t piece together would show on his face. 

Barefoot, you carried yourself toward Gaara’s tent. The breeze swept the hem of your robe. A flicker in your periphery startled you.

Chuuyou stood by your tent. He met your eye.

You froze.

He nodded to you and stared out into the desert, as though he had seen nothing.

A shared secret. Understanding.

He’s thinks I’m going to kill Gaara. A chill trickled your spine.

Something about Chuuyou’s reaction made the plan so … real. Others were waiting on you. They would act. What would happen after it was done? Would the Oasis ninja ambush the other tents, attempt to kill Temari and Kankuro? Would there be a full scale battle right in the middle of nowhere as your ninja stole you away and took you back to the village? The chill within rivaled the chill without.

You shook it off, attempted to chip away at the reality of it. We’re in the middle of the desert. It would be foolish to do it now — even if I was going to. Doesn’t he see that? You crept into Gaara’s tent. 

He slept on his slip of a bed on the floor, face peaceful in the candlelight. Quiet, save for the slight crunch of your bare feet on the sandy ground. 

How could he sleep after everything that had happened? A better question: what were you doing here? Did you want to talk to Gaara, hoping there would be some way you could bring up Hideo’s death without seeming suspicious, accusatory? But you had no plan, and he was asleep. And now here you were, standing over him in the night.

You remembered how Gaara had told you about his heavy sleeping. In another world, this would be the moment. You would simply slip the poison from the necklace into his mouth and be done with it. No more confusion. It would be done, your tight-roping act over and done with. 

You wouldn’t have to wonder anymore. A decision would have been made. You would just have to live with yourself. But could you live with yourself? 

The mental torture, and the desire to free yourself from it, sent your hand to your necklace. You trailed fingers to the back of it, to detach it.

You stood witness to his sleeping form. He slept the way he had when he was surrounded by his plants. How sweet his hobby was, how he had endeared himself to you. The statue of Karura. How gorgeous he was then, how gorgeous he was now … 

In your madness, Hideo’s voice morphed with your father’s: Do it. Avenge me. Avenge me.

You studied his face but found no answers there.

You leaned over him, as though the answers you sought after were an inch or so away —

“(Y/n)?”

You startled. Temari’s head had poked through the slit of the tent.

“What are you doing in here?”

You froze. In that moment, you knew exactly what it looked like: you, deviously bent over her baby brother, about to do only the gods knew what. Your mind spun for an excuse.

In that moment, you saw a slim change in Temari’s expression — Concern? Anger? Suspicion? 

Before it could change, Gaara roused. A groan rumbled in his throat. “What’s happened?” he asked groggily. 

He propped up. Your eyes flickered from him to Temari.

“I — I couldn’t sleep,” You said, not technically a lie. “I wanted to sleep with Gaara tonight.”

Gaara sat up in bed.

“What?” Temari was blushing.

“I’m … still so rattled by what happened …” You went on, using your actual nerves to amplify the effects of your lie-not-lie. I’m such a mess. “I’d feel safer if I …”

“That’s fine,” Gaara said.

“Gaara,” Temari said, scandalized. “Are — are you sure?”

“It makes sense that (Y/n) would be uncomfortable alone after what happened.” Gaara moved aside to make room for you on the futon. “We’ll be husband and wife soon enough as it is. It’s only natural we begin sleeping together.”

Gaara seemed to avoid your eye, the weight of the day’s events an uncomfortable one. As if on cue, you slipped into the futon to be beside him, making a mental side note of the warmth flooding you immediately after.

“Well —” Temari stammered. “A — All right. As long as …” She paused; considering what came after as was too horrifying to think about. “Good night!” 

You blushed; of course her mind would go to when she had found the two of you on the beach, the unspoken words to explain what you had been up to. She zipped the tent back up, leaving the two of you alone.

You laid down, exhaled a long breath. Gaara’s presence beside you was immense.

“I am … sorry,” he said. “For today. This is not how I wanted things to go.”

“It’s all right. I’m not as fragile as you think.” You balled a fist under the pillow. “I’m sure shinobi see far worse.”

“It’s no use comparing yourself to us; we are trained to face violence and be somewhat desensitized to it,” Gaara said. “I don’t expect you to be. Do you want to talk about it?”

This was the Gaara you had come to know, but what about the one from earlier? There were two Gaaras in your mind.

“No,” You assured softly. “I’m fine.”

“I understand …” You detected a bit of disappointment in Gaara’s voice. “Sleep now, then. We’ll be back in the village by the afternoon.”

You obeyed without meaning to. Exhaustion won out against your anxieties. The moment your eyes closed, you were asleep.

In the morning, you would wake up with your hand in Gaara’s, having reached for it in the night.

[watchmegetobsessed]

IN THE MIDDLE

A/N: this is my thank you for 12k followers!! it's not much, not long, but it's all i had time for, i hope you guys will enjoy it and thank you so much for all your support!!💜

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

PAIRING: Harry x Famous!Reader

SUMMARY: You have different beliefs about marriage, but you end up meeting in the middle.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

The audience laughs at another chaotic, funny answer Harry just gave to Jimmy’s question about an incident that happened during one of his shows recently. They have been talking about tour and music, mostly because that’s why Harry is a guest on the show, to promote his tour and latest album. But of course, the conversation will flow elsewhere as well.

“I’m gonna need to join you on tour sometime to witness these,” Jimmy chuckles. “Alright, I have something that I really want to ask you and I believe everyone else wants to know about it too.”

“Alright, ask it,” Harry nods with a serious look.

“It’s about one of your recent Instagram posts,” Jimmy says and holds up a printed version of the photo Harry posted a few weeks ago, one that practically broke the internet.

In the photo he is seen with you, his longtime girlfriend, the shot captured a moment when the two of you were dancing at a wedding, you were kissing just a moment before the picture, but Harry tickled your side so you both started laughing, your teeth touching and that’s exactly when the photographer caught you.

It’s the first ever time Harry has posted you on his social media, but it was a special occasion.

“You posted it not long ago, right?” Jimmy asks, taking a look at the photo too.

“Yes,” Harry nods again.

“This is you and Y/N Y/L/N, right? Who you are dating.”

Harry can’t even answer before the audience starts cheering and screaming at the statement, making him blush as he laughs.

“Yeah, that is right,” he confirms, earning another round of screaming.

He is known to keep his love life private and that’s something you share with him. Rumors only surfaced about the two of you a year after you started dating and there hasn’t been much information about your relationship ever since. Just a couple of grainy paparazzi pictures, some stolen glances at award shows and gossips every few months from random sources. That’s why Harry’s post was a total shock to the world, no one was expecting it.

“So the caption reads: Five years of the purest love,” Jimmy reads and Harry blushes some more, even though he wrote those words. “So you guys were celebrating your five year anniversary?”

“Well, not on the day the picture was taken, but yes. We recently had our anniversary,” Harry confirms, his eyes wandering to the picture, his heart skipping a beat even just thinking about you.

“Five years! Wow! Congratulations you guys!”

“Thank you,” Harry chuckles.

“Can I ask how the two of you met?”

“Through a mutual friend. I was in LA for a few weeks and got invited over for a dinner party and she was there too. I guess we just hit it off right then and there,” he thinks back at the first time he finally met you after crushing on your for probably an entire year, watching all your movies and shows.

“Was it a set up? Or you guys just found each other?”

“Don’t think it was planned, but who knows,” he shrugs smirking.

“I get it, I get it. So five years. That’s a long time, are you planning the next step maybe?” Jimmy implies, clearly wanting to know if he plans to propose to you.

“Uh, well, it’s a complicated situation,” Harry admits with a breathy laugh. “And if you want a straight forward answer, there probably won’t be a wedding.”

“Oh,” Jimmy’s eyes widen. “Is there a specific reason?”

Harry knew he would be asked about you and you discussed how much you both feel comfortable with sharing, so it’s no surprise to him. Posting the picture you knew people would want to know more and you agreed that after five years of keeping silent, you could give the world a little something.

“It’s simply because Y/N doesn’t want to get married. Not just with me, she generally doesn’t want to get married. It’s something we talked about very early in our relationship, because she didn’t want it to cause any problem later on.”

“So this is a decision she made, regardless of you or any other man?” Jimmy asks to clear things up.

“Exactly,” Harry nods. “And I’m gonna be honest, at first it was hard for me to accept. I like to think of myself as a traditional guy when it comes to family. I always saw myself getting married, having kids, you know, the usual things,” he explains and Jimmy nods. “So when she told me she doesn’t want to get married, my whole plan got messed up.”

“Did she tell you why she made this decision?”

“She is quite spiritual in a way where she doesn’t believe that feelings need to be officiated like this. With a paper, I mean. She explained to me that for her it’s more important to find the love she’d been looking for and keep it, but not with having a wedding and legalize her relationship. At first I didn’t understand it fully, but now I do and I realized that she is right. A wedding and a paper won’t do anything. We need to work on our relationship, put time and effort into it, take care of each other and ourselves, that’s what matters.”

“I genuinely agree with you,” Jimmy nods as the audience starts clapping in awe of his word. “So I guess you accepted her decision about marriage?”

“Yeah. If I get to be with her for the rest of my life, I don’t need a paper about it, I need her and her love.”

“I feel like your words are straight out of one of your love songs,” Jimmy chuckles.

“I guess,” Harry nods grinning.

“So no wedding, just love.”

“Yeah, we decided to meet in the middle.”

“Please welcome Y/N YL/N!” Jimmy announces before you walk out and wave around for the cheering audience before approaching the host. You share two kisses on the face and he helps you up on the few small steps before you take your seat in the armchair. “Y/N, it’s so good to see you again!”

“Thank you, nice to see you too, it’s been a while!” you smile at him, fixing your dress discreetly.

“You look amazing as always, I love this dress!” he enthuses.

“Thank you! A friend of mine is trying herself out at fashion, it’s her creation!” you smile proudly.

“Wow, amazing! And I’m sorry, but I can’t just ignore that massive rock on your finger!” Jimmy points it out and you smile down at your hand shyly. There is indeed a diamond ring sitting on your finger, shining brightly in the spotlight.

“Yeah…” you sigh dreamily as you hold up your hand so the audience can get a better glimpse of it, one of the cameras even zoom in on the jewelry.

“How did that happen?” Jimmy gapes. “I mean, a year ago Harry was right here, on the show and he told me how you never want to get married. What changed?”

“Well,” you chuckle, “a lot has changed,” you tell him. “As many of you guys know we welcomed our baby earlier this year.”

The audience screams at your words, though it hasn’t been a secret, not since the two of you were caught on a walk with your daughter in the stroller. That was two months after she was born, you laid low until then and you even managed to keep your pregnancy a secret up until the eighth month. What’s funny is that you were already pregnant when Harry came on the show a year ago, you found out just days after your fifth anniversary and his post was actually his way of expressing how happy he is with you, without letting the rest of the world know what was actually happening in your life.

“Ah yes! Your baby, congratulations!” Jimmy cheers in excitement.

“Thank you. That’s been quite the change.”

“So you changed your mind about marriage?”

“No,” you shake your head, confusing the host. “I still don’t want to get married. I still think that to love each other, we don’t have to throw a wedding and sign a paper, declaring our love. It’s in the acts, the way we live, it’s everywhere, but not in the legal documents.”

“Okay, but then why is there a ring?” Jimmy asks curiously.

“Well, I thought about how Harry gave up his dream of marrying someone for me. And when we had our daughter it just let me experience such a whole new version of love, that it inspired me to do something for him. I knew that he liked the traditional things, so we had a talk and I agreed to get engaged,” you explain. “We are never gonna get married, but he got to propose to me, I could say yes to him and I see the way his eyes bright up when he sees the ring on my finger, it means a lot to him, so I’m glad we could compromise.”

“That is so beautiful,” Jimmy sighs dreamily. “How did he ask you?”

“He asked me exactly where we first met,” you say smiling. “We were invited to dinner at our friend’s place again, I didn’t think anything of it, but apparently, it was all planned out. The view of the balcony is just amazing there and he had it decorated with fairy lights and candles, it was like in a movie.”

“He is a true romantic,” Jimmy smiles back at you. “I’m happy for you guys, congratulations, on the baby and the engagement too. I’m so glad you found each other.”

“Thank you. I’m glad too and I’m happy that we could meet in the middle as well.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[sitp-recs]

HP Rec Fest, Day 9

Rare pair galore, my moment has come!!! This is probably my favorite rec post so far. I mean, I’ve been reccing rare pairs for @hprecfest prompts already so I’ll take this opportunity to champion my favorite rare pair writers and focus on some niche ships that I would not even consider had I not stumbled across that particular fic. Idk how many people out there indulge het ships but if anyone’s looking for something steamy hot and well-written oh boy, do I have some treats for you. You’ll notice that most fics fall within the “problematique” category due to the age gap aspect (which let’s be honest, it’s the reason why I considered reading them in the first place 🌝). By the way, some of these are the only fics written for these ships, how cool is that?!

Day 9) A 5 rare pair fic (less than 2000 fics)

Opposite Ends by pauraque (Millicent/Aberforth, E, 1.5k)

She thought she'd feel different after they'd fucked. He's lived long enough to know that he wouldn't.

would never imagine these two together in a million years but omg so freaking hot 🥵 we have so little canon info on them but both povs are fascinating and full of personality

Gouge Away by tamlane (Millicent/Victoire, T, 1.7k)

The Weasley girl has developed a keen fascination with Millicent's woodworking shop. Millicent can't seem to get rid of her, no matter how hard she tries.

another surprising but quite charming pair, I love the set up and dynamics here - so much UST under 2k wow I need more wlw age gap!

Drip, Honey, Drip by tamlane (Lily Luna/Michael Corner, E, 3k)

Lily's boss catches her daydreaming on a Friday afternoon. He thinks there could be a business opportunity in it, and he wants to hear more. Sequel here.

this fic turned me on blew my mind! very original concept perfectly executed, the sexual tension is so dripping hot and intoxicating I thought I’d combust. the sequel is equally delicious, 10/10

testosterone (sounds like a spell) by pauraque (Justin/Hannah E, 7.7k) 🏳️‍⚧️

Justin never returned to Hogwarts after the Death Eaters came. He's found that the Muggle world offers other kinds of transfiguration — a body alchemy far more powerful than any magic spell. Sometimes he wonders if anyone even remembers that once, years ago, he was a novice wizard.

one of the best, most sensitive and moving trans stories I’ve read in the fandom. it’s such a privilege to follow Justin’s journey and I adore the way he clicks with Hannah. fabulous sex scene too

Burned Silk, Buckled Leather by @ruinsplume (Draco/Sirius, E, 12k)

When Sirius discovers a down-and-out Draco Malfoy lurking around the edges of a Muggle kink club, he thinks he knows just what Draco needs. He isn't expecting to run into some long-buried needs of his own.

my favorite Draco/Sirius out there, this fic has RP’s trademark: sinfully hot, tender devastating smut bringing together complex characters and many emotional layers beneath the surface. the kink exploration here is 👨‍🍳💋 mesmerizing!

[an-entity-i-think]

Okay so you know the drill,, there's a gala! Wow Bruce Wayne is so dreamy 😍 he's a whore 🥵 he's a dad 🥰 he's a- oh shit he's a hostage 😳

Everyone looks around frantic and scared but also... not really... cause ya know... this happens like every Wayne gala? Like they had to sign a slip saying that Wayne Inc isn't liable for any injuries during a possible takeover cause the Board was tired of people sneaking in just to sue after being shot by Ozzie's umbrella gun (it was just a graze 🙄) (Bruce pays for them all anyway)

But! This time Damian was in his arms when he was taken hostage! Extra collateral! How tragic! He's just a poor boy ;(

The corners have shadows of course and next thing you know- through a series of odd instances that are totally irrelevant to the story (oh his other children must be so scared! Must have hid under the tables since no one saw them,, how terribly sad) -a few of Gotham's vigilantes show up to save the day! (Is it 9 already?)

Alas! a goon (he's new, he's blue, he'll shoot himself in the shoe 🎶) gets startled and almost shoots poor defenseless Damian Wayne and oh Bruce becomes a real papa bear and slams his fist into the goons face-

"No." He practically growls- which uh Brucie can growl? A spattering of confusion goes around the room before a laughing Red Hood can be heard after checking on the goon-

"Damn! Good job papi!"

Everyone in the room pauses.

Did the Red Hood... just call Brucie Wayne Papi? The Red Hood, the anti-hero of unknown age who just recently obtained the praise of the city for taking down the recent baddie with the Gotham sirens when all the other bats seemed to be out of town?

A million ideas pass through the thoughts of the elite in attendance.

A million thoughts pass through Jason who just realized what he said after seeing that Goon Lagoon lost his front teeth.

He looks to Nightwing and in state of panic they speak to each other in a way that only panicking siblings who can't speak can share-

'You done fucked up,' Dick seems to say with a twitch of his eyebrow.

'Obviously, you stupid idiot, but how do I fix it,' Jason responds practically psychically with a tilt of his head.

Dick just looks at him in pity, and with a shake of his head, he stares into his little brother's soul with the plan

-of course nobody else hears this conversation,, everyone in the room just watches the two vigilantes stare at each other weirdly for a few seconds (theyre on complete opposite sides of the room? There is not a single shred of subtle about them having a mental conversation even if nobody knows what it's about) before a look a pure absolute disgust reveals itself across Red Hood's masked face (he threw his helmet for fun earlier in the battle not important) before settling into a neutral stiffness.

Solemnly devastated, like he's about to go off to war and his Beau will be left behind to be cared for by his evil brother who will no doubt try to take advantage of his estate,,

or like a teenager being told by an acquaintance that they found their old elementary school YouTube account with videos of them role-playing with their Littlest Pet Shop animals,,

or like when a mother writes a 12k story for her fandom during her toddlers nap time only for the child not only to wake up before expected but also somehow spill applejuice all over her laptop (the one she's had since she was a teen) shorting it and deleting the story because she didn't press save on top of being morbidly tired from lack of sleep-

He looks up and says with clarity in his voice even if it's also filled with the verbal equivalent of eating 4 lemons raw and slow- peel and all,

"That's what I call him in bed."

Everyone in The Know takes psychic damage.

The elite in the crowd do little more than nod before moving on.

Bruce just smiles big and fake and pretends like he doesn't want to die.

Red Hood looks at his gun with wistfullness, while Nightwing does an unnecessary amount of acrobatics along the chandeliers above them just to land next to him and pat him on the shoulder.

Later, an anonymous commenter spoke about hearing Damian Wayne whisper to himself, "I hate this fucking family," as Timothy Drake-Wayne (who appeared miraculously safe and sound) gave him a nod of agreement.

[beautifulchris]

of darkness and rainbows — teaser

READ HERE

pairing: demigod!lee felix x fem demigod!reader

summary: a demigod au in which you enter the camp after losing your mom, and you swear to yourself you'll avenge her or alternatiely felix saves your life and you would do everything for each other

genres: demigod!au, action, fantasy, adventure, greek mythology, romance, mild fluff, angst, slowburn

tw: monsters, death of a mother and brother, parental abandonment, blood, physical injuries, murder, use of weapons (swords, knives, bow and arrow), violence, nightmares, grief and loss depiction, battle scenes, monster slaying, mild language, fainting, magic, ghost

teaser tw: weapons (swords, bow and arrow, javelin), grief, magic, ghost, mention of guilt, mention of the death of a mother

rating: +16

estimated wc: around 12k (du jamais vu fr)

teaser wc: 0,8k (basically the second chapter)

notes: hello, this is moon. i'm starting this new blog with a piece i cherish and that haven't seen the light yet! also wow. this is my longest work ever, i really hope you'll enjoy it as much as i did writing it! it's coming soon <3

networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @whipped-kpop-creators

permanent tag list: @badwithten send an ask/dm/comment to be added!

Felix shouldn’t have laughed.

The whole scene was just so ridiculously funny, he had to.

You were training at the climbing wall like every other day, except today, someone had the good idea to change the mode from normal to full lava-and-earthquake while you were on it. Needless to say it took you by surprise. You fell to the bottom, earning smoking holes in your t-shirt and singed arms' hair.

Felix helped you get out of the lava floor, miserably trying to suppress his giggles. “Are you okay?”

“Who turned the climbing wall into a frenzy? I just wanna talk!”

Your eyes showed you were being serious, although a little smile appeared after looking at your best friend’s face.

Turns out it was a Hermes kid, obviously.

To get back at him, you created a hole under his feet. He screamed as he sank up to his ankles. He lost balance and fell on his butt. A few kids that fell off the climbing wall with you clapped their hands and laughed.

Oh yeah, my bad. I forgot to tell you you could do that, among other things.

Being at Camp Half-Blood year round was actually a great thing. Undeniably, between that and being with your mom, the choice was clear, but since she was gone… All you could do was train to be able to protect mortals like you should’ve protected your mom and avenge her as well.

I know what some may think. It wasn’t your fault (and it wasn’t. really.) but you couldn’t make peace with it just yet. Guilt still ate you up at night.

After understanding what it meant to be a kid of Hades, you tried to find and talk to your mom. A ghost appeared instead of her. It looked like a staff member, with greek armor and a formal look. He told you your mom was in Elysium, that ‘she wanted you to follow your own path’ and that ‘she didn’t want to see you until you were old and had a full life’. It felt so unfair. You tried to argue but the ghost didn’t stay to hear your complaints, leaving you in your grief.

You ended up entering the armory. Even if you were against violence, you came to terms with the fact that you couldn’t protect others by solely making holes on the ground. Felix showed you all the best pieces of celestial bronze weapons. He made you try on several, making you swing swords, throw knives, shoot arrows… It was unsure what would suit you best.

At last, your eyes caught sight of a dusty black metal in a corner, behind javelins. Dusting off the sword a bit, you felt like it belonged in your hand. It wasn’t too heavy, nor too light. It just felt right.

“It’s stygian iron,” Felix explained, “Hades’ own sword is made of it.”

Did you resent him? Probably… yeah. If he had been there, two years ago, he could’ve saved your mom. But you never saw him, ever. You often wondered if you were even worthy of his presence.

“Y/N?”

Your head shot up, “yeah?”

“You looked out of it. Are you okay? We can stop looking for weapons if you want.”

“No, I’m good. I’ll take this one.” It hasn’t left your side ever since.

Felix proposed to train together. It was fun, both of you ending up at the infirmary more often than not. Jisung was always there to treat your wounds while cracking jokes.

Dawon, the Hades’ cabin’s head counselor that scared you on your first night, was actually really cool. He showed you around the cabin, welcomed you like a true sibling. You enjoyed eating with your siblings at the dining pavilion, talking strategies and kicking ass during capture-the-flag and chariot races, chatting before bed and getting ready together in the mornings.

Other than that, you didn’t spend a lot of time with them. No, Felix was practically attached to your hip at this point. He has been a huge pillar to your recovery. If it wasn’t for him and his bright aura, you would’ve been morose and sad. He probably knew that too.

When you passed by the arts & crafts building, you often saw the pretty boy. The sun would often reflect on his face, making his skin glow. His stance was elegant, his features soft and flawless. He had sunlight in his shoulder-length black hair and his long fingers seemed to be working effortlessly against the canvas. In a way, watching him paint for a while was relaxing. Curiosity always got the best of you as you wanted to see his next art piece.

All you knew about him was that he was a child of Aphrodite and an amazing painter.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please let me know! <3

[mothmage]

20 Qs for fic writers

Tagged by @monstersinthecosmos , thank you!!!

1. How many works do you have on A03? 31 (and a few anon, i think 2 or 3. idk, when i post a fic on anon i forget about it forever)

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 446,135

3. What fandoms do you write for? currently/primarily vc, iwtv (amc), star wars, and merlin (bbc)!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? A Lovely Little Normal Life (which, honestly, kind of annoys me lol. i know it's just bc it's a huge fandom, but really? the stupid little 12k harry potter fic i wrote in two days is my most kudos? please...); Arthur Pendragon, Long May She Reign (forever pushing my lesbian genderswap agenda); The Face of God (les mis slightly canon divergent javert character study); The Odyssey of Recollection (amc iwtv s1 pov armand); Away From Stranger Tides (potc philip/syrena fic i started ages ago and never finished, lol)

5. Do you respond to comments? yes i love talking to people in comments!!!! i've made a lot of friends through comments!!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? omg. umm. merthur fans don't know this yet bc i havent finished posting but it's arthur pendragon long may she reign (BUT it's part of a series, so it's literally fine). idk, i dont tend to write long fics that end angsty. but my angstiest fic in general is probably Hollow-Boned Boy (armand contemplating his human life in the early CoD era) or Vision of the Damned (daniel's turning from armand's pov)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? i love a happy ending!! my series Odysseus in White Silk is probably the happiest ending, and in such an undeserved way hahaha it's so very AU because i was sad after s1 of the show and just wanted them all (and armandaniel) to live happily ever after

8. Do you get hate on fics? i dont think i ever have, but i tend to read comments in good faith too, so maybe someone out there is annoyed that i interpreted their vague dislike comment as a genuine comment or something, idk. in general though, i'll say no

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? yes but i dont post that often, idk if there's a particular kind, but generally it tends to be a little rougher than is probably appropriate without discussion in real-life situations, but also very...idk my friend described it as very tender, like theyre very clearly in love. which is so funny considering that that kind of tenderness irl gives me fucking hives lmfao

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? oh wow, not in a long time. i do have a wip sitting around rn that's a crossover between london spy and cloud atlas, which is really crazy until you remember that ben whishaw is in both london spy and the cloud atlas movie lol. and cloud atlas is already about weird reincarnations and parallel worlds and stuff, so it isnt too out-there.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? i dont think so!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? yes!! The Face of God was translated into Korean by ao3 user Crescent919 !! i've had a few comments on other fics asking to translate for personal use (always yes, of course), but no one else has asked to share a translation publicly

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? no!! i've been thinking about it lately though

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? all-time? probably merlin/arthur from merlin (bbc). it's the whole fate-destiny-choice thing, it just compels me like nothing else

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? hmmm, i would like to finish Roswell -- well, kinda (agent carter farm girl / alien crash landing au) because i still have all the original notes and outlines and stuff. i also made a shitty conlang when i was first writing it, which is crazy lol. but it would need some pretty serious revisions, and i would definitely rewrite the first few chapters that i posted years ago. i just kind of lost the agent carter bug, but i might return to that fic if i ever get in the mood for it again.

16. What are your writing strengths? ooh, i'm not really sure! i get a lot of comments mentioning characters' voices and/or personalities, so i would say maybe that!!! i also feel that i'm fairly good at mimicking an author's writing style when i want to (notably, i do not mimic anne rice when writing vc fic, lol)

17. What are your writing weaknesses? editing for sure. i have at least a hundred fics sitting on my hard drive fully or almost-fully written that i just need to edit. but i would simply rather die than do all of that. it's also why my whole merlin fic got put on pause while i went down the vc rabbithole, because i just can't bring myself to go edit the next chapters lol

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? hmm, i think it's usually unnecessary and comes off as a bit silly. that said, i did do it once (maybe excessively) in Daniel Molloy, Time Bandit (1984 daniel ends up in 1794 theatre des vampires, it's more of a character study than a time travel fic) BUT, let me defend myself -- i did it because daniel doesnt understand french, it's his pov, and he's incredibly confused and distraught for most of the fic. i felt like the dialogue being in french conveyed this sort of "daniel does not belong in this time/place" vibes. but, also, my french is...a little rough. so i'm sure it's an annoying fic for french readers lmao

19. First fandom you wrote for? warriors cats, a million years ago hahahah

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? ok, i have three different answers for this. the fic i think is the best, objectively, in terms of writing and content: The Story of Dani [...] (r63 devil's minion from armand's pov, starting with lestat's house). the fic i am the proudest of, mostly because it was my first "big" fic (it's funny now, bc it's only 41k) and i feel like i grew a lot as a writer while working on it, and i'm still happy with it: The Face of God (les mis pov javert, character study from childhood). the fic i have the most fun with and think about almost 24/7: Arthur Pendragon, Long May She Reign (r63 merthur, canon divergence, this is like a 4-part series that's currently over 300k lmao)

no-pressure tagging: @aunteat @leslutdepointedulac @butchybats @graygiantess and anyone else who wants to!!

[hdsudsfest]

HD Sudsfest: Week Four

We've sadly reached the final week of this year's Sudsfest. We're excited to share a full list of all the works published in the coming weeks, but for now, here are week four's treats. If you haven't yet indulged, what are you waiting for?

[FIC] Steamy Encounters by @drwhoisginnyholmes { E, 2.3k }

Draco wanted to try something new and Harry being shameless when it comes to Draco, heartily agreed. Cue sex in a hot tub. Pissing off Blaise was just an added bonus.

❤️ "Mmmmmmm how sexy and very 🔥🔥🔥" —lijahlover

❤️ "This was hot and sexy!!! I loved Harry taking Draco apart and how much Draco enjoyed the exhibitionism. Fantastic work!!!" —nv-md

[ART] his love, it comforts me by @veelawings { M, Digital Art }

After a long, hard day's work, Harry stumbles home and into the arms of his husband.

❤️ "This may sound unhinged but literally my brain started making goose honking noises about this, which is a bit strange because it’s the opposite of this vibe which is so soft and ethereal and sweet and not goose-like at all." —phdmama

❤️ "oh this is so soft and comforting! The overhead shot of Harry in the bath is particularly lovely 💖 thanks for sharing!!" —innerlilith

[FIC] The Strange Case of Draco Malfoy’s Underwear by @dracopetal { T, 12k }

Harry spies something strange in the showers after Draco Malfoy joins his professional Quidditch team, and it sends him spiralling down a familiar path of obsession.

And this time, Malfoy’s hot.

❤️ "Oh my gosh! I loved this! It was just so cute. Harry is so dumb. 😂 How dare he not know every single thing about Draco." —podsgirl

❤️ "aaaaaaa i love this so much" —pitzer

[FIC] the crack in the ceiling by @brightluminae { M, 1k }

Draco's showers are always quick, efficient. Harry listens to them from the other room.

❤️ "Argh. Come on Harry! Be brave! So heart-breaking 💙" —blueheart_v

❤️ "oh wow, this was heartbreaking 😭 ... But really, the way Harry stares at the crack in the ceiling, his dissociation, the strength of his pining—beautiful!" —innerlilith

[FIC] Of Double Trouble and Bubble Baths by @drakaina101 { E, 26k }

Having not seen Draco for ten long years, it seemed like a great idea to offer to cat-sit for him. Harry could never have known what it would lead to, or that one of the hairless demons would be determined to kill him.

❤️ "Oh oh oh oh….. this is fantastic! Hairless cats seem like a very Draco thing lol, and the way you changed years was lovely, it felt very natural and flowing" —big_biscuit

❤️ "I loved this!! Hairless cats are perfect for Draco, omg, and Harry's relationship with them was just *chef's kiss*... Just so lovely and fun with fantastic visuals and humor. ❤️" —oflights

[ART] Lover’s Falls by @slytherco { E, Digital Art }

During a covert romantic getaway, Harry and Draco find their own slice of paradise on the other side of the world.

❤️ "absolutely gorgeous!!!!! the poses look so fluid and natural, the rendering of their hair is especially beautiful, the complex background and bright colors are joyful, and the idea to have multiple scenes in one cohesive background is inspired! i adore this piece!!!" —okaysky

❤️ "Wow! This is absolutely gorgeous! The linework, the colors, the steam! I love the arch of Draco's back and Harry's expression. This is so sexy" —reliand

[FIC + ART] in his hands by @babooshkart & @softlystarstruck { E, Digital Art, 3k }

Harry gives Draco the gift of letting go.

❤️ "Oh this is so soft and gorgeous!! I love how tender they are, in both fic and art. The absolute trust Draco has in Harry, and Harry’s unwavering care. And that art, holy fuck boo!!" —basicallyahedgehog

❤️ "Omg I love it when you two work together and this was GORGEOUS! It was so tender and hot at the same time. The art took my breath away, and the story matched that soft take on bondage exploration. I loved all the pink: pink skin, pink rope marks, pink water." —lqtraintracks

[FIC] 100 Beats per Minute by @oknowkiss { E, 14k }

When Draco left the Magical World behind at nineteen, he didn't expect the cusp of thirty would find him comfortable and secure, with a stable life and a successful career as a sex columnist. Stable, that is, until he meets the subject of his newest column -- a stranger calling himself James, who has dragged them both to Ibiza on a sex quest of epic proportions -- and everything Draco ever knew turns upside down all over again.

❤️ "I have slaked my thirst, I have perished, I refuse to reread a single word of this comment to keep its integrity though I'm sure I sound deranged 😘" —skeptique

❤️ "i'm eating thanksgiving leftovers as i read this and i am very thankful for you. thank you for your consistently incredible takes on these stupid slutty idiots. also, for you consistently sending me into fits of screaming laughter with a single line..." —geesenoises

[FIC] Paragraph Twelve, Clause Four by InnerLilith { E, 15k }

Harry loves nothing more than a nice, leisurely wank in the bath. He thinks Draco can’t hear him. Draco can hear him.

❤️ "THIS WAS SO GOOD AHHHHH!!! The setup, the tension, the exquisite writing, HOT DAMN. Loved it!" —mx_maneater

❤️ "oh my GOD LILITH. i love this SO MUCH!!!!! i actually had to take several breaks just to stare at the ceiling and try not to scream. the alternating POV is absolutely genius. the way you unfolded the entire story through their perceptions of the same circumstances… brilliant!" —oknowkiss

weekly roundup art by fictional, do not repost

[itgirl44411]

GLOW UP DAY 2!

OH! WOW YOU CAME AGAIN ! SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU! I AM A LIL LATE WITH DAY 2 BUT IT'S OK...RIGHT?DID YOU MISS ME ? HOPE SO!

-TODAY WE ARE GOING TO TALK ABOUT HOW TO GET THE GRADES UP // WHY YOU CAN'T LOSE WEIGHT// MY WORKOUT // HOW TO BOOST METABOLISM //

°HOW TO GET YOUR GRADES UP-

-STUDY 20/30 MIN REST 5/10

WHEN WE STUDY WE GET TIRED AND BORED SO WHY NOT STUDY FOR A SMALL TIME AND THEN REST AND REPEAT?

-SLEEP WELL

WE HAVE TO REST OUR HEADS FOR TOMORROW'S SCHOOL 🏫 WE DON'T WANT TO FALL ASLEEP DURING CLASS AND MISS THE WHOLE THING RIGHT WELL YOU PROB WANT TO BUT THAT ISN'T THE POINT SLEEP AT LEAST 7 HOURS A NIGHT!

- EAT WELL

FOOD GIVES US ENERGY ! WE NEED ENERGY TO THINK, STUDY ,WALK EVERYTHING BUT RIGHT NOW WE ARE FOCUSING ON THE THINKING AND STUDYING ! DON'T SKIP MEALS (UNLESS YOU DON'T LIKE BREAKFAST)

-STUDY EVEN IN SPRING/WINTER BRAKE

THAT SOUNDS LAME IK BUT 20-30MIN NOT GONNA HURT RIGHT?

°WHY CAN'T YOU LOSE WEIGHT?

1. NOT EXERCISING AT ALL -

NO EXERCISES CAUSES GAINING WEIGHT. WE NEED TO MOVE THIS BODY A LITTLE BY

-WALKING

-RUNNING

-JUMPING ON ROPE

-DOING WORKOUTS(mine is 👇🏻 in the post)

2.NOT DRINKING ENOUGH WATER

-BY DRINKING WATER WE FLUSH DOWN OUR BODY

-WE HYDRATE THE BODY

3.SLEEPING TO MUCH

-SLEEPING CAN SLOW DOWN YOUR METABOLISM

(7-9HOURS ARE COMPLETELY ENOUGH)

°MY WORKOUT

YOU FOUNDED MY WORKOUT ✨ YUPPIE ✨

1- walking

I LOVE WALKING ! I WALK EVERY DAY AND DO AROUND 5K-12K STEPS !

2-RIDING MY BIKE

I ride my bike 1-3days a week for 15-30min

3. EXERCISES

-i do a lot of them

200-300 russian twist

80- plank hip dips

30-50 crunches

50- bicycle crunches

10-20 squats

And more , but these are the main ones i do a day .

°HOW TO BOOST YOUR METABOLISM?

1.SIMPLY BY DRINKING TEA!

-GREEN TEA

-GINGER TEA

-HERBAL TEA

-BLACK TEA

TEA, TEA, TEA A LOT OF TEA ☕

2.SLEEP , BUT NOT TO MUCH

-3-7h - not enough

-7-9h - perfect

-9-10+ - WAKE UP

Sleeping can slow down metabolism

3.EAT MORE FIBER

4. DRINK AT LEAST 2L of water a day

5.EAT MORE FRUITS AND VEGGIES AND MAKE JUNCK AND PASTRY FOODS SMALLER AMOUNTS

-JUNCK AND PASTRY FOODS takes more time to be digested from the stomach

THAT IS FOR TODAY SEE YOU SOON! ;)

[lizardrosen]

me, march 5: i was just going to write a quick summary for how the bridgertons each portray their characters and how certain scenes go, but i went into soooo much detail with the closet scene (518 words)

me, march 6: oh wow, eloise and anthony are getting really involved talking about a scene that doesn't even happen onstage (655 words)

me, march 8-12: ah, now the nunnery scene is getting long and involved (2154 words)

me, march 16: haha, act 2 scene 2 is so long i had to split it into two chapters, but that's fine because it's an absurdly long scene in the play itself too (2470 words)

me for like a month: lots of writing about things that aren't this AU, but i *will* have benedict have Feelings and Opinions about the granvilles and their relationship dynamic for a couple hundred words

me, april 17: well i'm focusing on laertes, so i might as well combine his act four scenes, oh god, why can't i stop doing a line reading on every bit of dialogue, what happened to summarizing?? (2132 so far)

all these later sections are pointing and laughing at the ~super long~ closet scene now. it's still well-done, and i don't think i'll make it longer to match, but it's very funny to me how much my expectations for this project have shifted.

the total word count is a little over 12k, and everything i've written so far for act five is about 360 words, i really need to hurry up and write the damn duel so i can post this and be done with it.

[themculibrary]

5+1 Times Stony Masterlist

5 Times Bucky Thought Tony Was Good For Steve +1 Time He Told Him (ao3) - Anonymous T, 6k

Summary: To say Bucky is unimpressed by Stark would be an understatement.

It isn’t that he dislikes him. It’s more that he’s a brand of indifferent that curdles with disdain on the rare occasion that Bucky catches him on the TV: Stark is glib and crass in a way his father never was, and he wears suits like he’d slipped out of the womb clad in Armani.

So it’s a surprise when Bucky moves into the Tower and finds that Steve actually gets along with the guy.

5 times people realize Steve and Tony are in love (+1 time it finally hits them on the head) (ao3) - beyondmyreach T, 5k

Summary: What it says on the tin.

The Avengers looked between Steve and Tony, and wondered despairingly how could they not know.

5 Times Steve Was Insecure, + 1 Time Tony Was (ao3) - kenzithewriter E, 3k

Summary: 5 times Steve was insecure, starting with joining the Avengers, and continuing over time as his relationship with Tony progresses, and then +1 of Tony being insecure with Steve.

5 Times Tony Had Steve's Back, and 1 Time Steve had Tony's (ao3) - itsallAvengers T, 25k

Summary: As it turns out, Steve gets himself into a lot more shit than you would think. And for some reason, it's always Tony who ends up saving his sorry ass.

Affection (ao3) - MaidenofIron157 steve/tony E, 17k

Summary: Five times Tony Stark's exhaustion gets the better of him, and the one time someone decides it's time he use an actual bed.

Bonuses: Hulk, Tony's 'Bots, and Loki, as well as a chapter explaining the aftermaths of each cuddling session

Five Times Tony Stark Misjudged Steve Rogers (and One Time He Didn’t) (ao3) - sweatervest M, 5k

Summary: There’s plenty of weird shit to deal with after fighting aliens, like “How Does One Dispose of Alien Remains Without Poisoning the Water” and “Wow Insurance Companies Are Really Not Equipped for This,” but Tony suspects that “Steve Rogers is Actually Very Funny” and “Steve Rogers is a Stealthy Bastard” probably shouldn’t be as close to the top of the list as they are.

Timeline runs from after Captain America: The First Avenger to just after Avengers: Age of Ultron.

Five Times Tony Stark Talked Himself Out Of Trouble (And One Time He Couldn’t Quite Manage It) (ao3) - rainproof T, 15k

Summary: “Trouble” might not be Tony Stark’s middle name, but on most days it felt a hell of a lot more appropriate than “Edward”.

Friends with benefits? (ao3) - Hotaru_Tomoe E, 12k

Summary: Five times Steve and Tony have casual sex and avoid having an adult conversation, and one time they don’t.

if I time it right, the thunder breaks (when I open my mouth) (ao3) - nanasekei N/R, 11k

Summary: “You know,” Tony mumbles, because Tony never stops talking. “When you say shit like - like that, it’s… It’s hard.” His voice is slurred now, his eyes closed, as if he’s not even sure he’s still saying anything aloud. “Because I know I should believe you, but I – I wanna believe it so bad, so fucking much, that it feels like I shouldn’t. Like, the second I believe it, the other shoe’s gonna drop, and you’re gonna find out you don’t mean it.”

-

Or: Five Times Steve told Tony he loved him, and one time he didn't need to.

I'm A Grown-Ass Man (ao3) - Not Applicable (not_applicable) M, 3k

Summary: or, 5 Times Steve Carried Tony and 1 Time Tony Didn't Mind. At all.

oh baby I can't even explain (ao3) - muchmoremajestic T, 10k

Summary: Prompt: Steve and Tony dance around each other, wanting to ask each other out on a first date, but things keep getting in the way from the random invasions on campus to each of them being nervous/getting in their own way.

Or: The five times Steve and Tony tried to ask each other out, and the one time they finally got it together.

shadows of the mess you made (ao3) - ithinkiwannamarvelyou G, 2k

Summary: Every time he closes his eyes, he's brought back to the night in Siberia, the way Tony threw his hands up over his head, right before Steve brought the shield down. Sam and Nat are nice enough to ignore the way he wakes up with a jolt, gasping at the memory of his shield slicing into Tony's armor.

(5 times steve wanted to call tony + the 1 time he was able to)

Territory Negotiations (ao3) - Desiderii E, 20k

Summary: The Kill for a Cuppa is the the number-one parahuman stomping ground in the city. For Tony, a feral, it's one of the only neutral territories he's willing to frequent (where frequent means both drink coffee and nap on the couch as well as proposition likely strangers for a quick fuck in the alley). When his attempt to publicly seduce a gorgeous golden tabby named Steve Rogers backfires, Tony is forced to decide how far past 'lust' and into 'the real Tony Stark' territory he's willing to go.

(A the Avengers are catpeople who work in a coffee shop AU that is, more or less, subtitled Five Times Steve Rogers Left Without Tony Stark, and the One Time He Didn't.)

The Five Stages of Losing You (ao3) - MarvelousMenagerie (HiddenOne) M, 8k

Summary: Tony didn’t think he was supposed to like the man his boyfriend was cheating on him with, but turns out that liking Bucky Barnes wasn’t the problem.

The 5 stages of grief as Tony loses one relationship, +1 as he gains another.

When I think about you (ao3) - sirona E, 11k

Summary: Five times someone saw Steve sass the hell out of Tony and one time Tony finally bought a clue. Also known as the story of Captain Sasspants more than handling his own with Tony Stark at his most devious.

[bastardbvby]

amaya give me aftg fanfic recs (if you have any) cause even tho i was obsessed with the books i never read any and i feel like i missed out on great stuff

oh my god absolutely. um. putting this under the cut because i've realized that this has gotten super long but....hope this helps adfhdh

lessons in cartography (121k) is a definite must – it's a continuation of the series from where the books left off and honestly. anything by this author is a work of art ive reread this so many times

this roommate bullshit (13.8k) grad school au where kevin sees andrew (short, angry) carrying knives in the library and is like wow u should meet my roommate neil (also short and angry and wielding knives) also highly recommend anything by this author theyre amazing <3

they used to shout my name (now they whisper it) (46.9k) witch/coven au where neil is on the run and winds up meeting the foxes and joining their coven,, descriptions of magic in this one are unreal i love it sm

an assassin's guide to romance (12k) slight medieval au where neil is an assassin sent to spy on kevin and andrew is kevin's bodyguard. also there's a dog. so cute recently reread :')

the first breath (180k) omg it's like a sandman universe au this is genuinely one of my fav things EVER. and yes i highly recommend this author adfhfh also super recommend armies (342k) by them

and we'll be running (62k) necessary band au that every fandom needs,, havent reread in a bit but i remember loving how well the songs were written into this

red rabbits (292k) and red rabbits: season 2 (282k) this series gensrs changed my life like. i have yet to encounter anything quite as unique as this format and style. each fic is set up as a podcast but. idk how to explain it like it's not your normal kind of podcast/social media fic please just check it out if u read anything on this list.

be neither fish nor fowl (26k) and across the turtle's back (53k) mermaid/pirate au. so well written and the sequel is definitely like . top 10 fics

i realize that a lot of these are like Super Long fics mostly because those are the ones i tend to read the most but if u want shorter stuff lmk :] hope this is helpful