#or rather it’s about the exact piece of sidewalk where you can see the big ben at the angle shown on the cover of legacy

[cavennmalore]

it is infinitely funny to me that the place where lady gisela hid her teleporter or whatever in london is like. a real place that i’ve been to??? and can visit whenever i want??? places in fantasy books are not supposed to exist and definitely not exist twenty minutes from me

[wheelsup]

the taming of the shrew | one

he is more a shrew than she

penelope reveals her plan to get you and spencer together. unfortunately, her plan has a few hitches. 

A/N: again, big thanks to @homoose for being my helpful beta reader, and to YOU for reading it now. 

category: fluff, spencer reid x fem!reader, series

wc: 4.1k

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Penelope came back to your place the following night, bearing a new bottle of wine and a collection of materials she mentioned were integral to executing the plan.

Very quickly into Penelope’s explanation of this Genius Plan –– her words, not yours –– you remembered what it was she did for work. Officially, she was some sort of technical computer-y person for the Federal Bureau. As you knew her, she’s a danger to society and anyone with a traceable digital presence.

She managed to construct a comprehensive list of every place in D.C. and Virginia that her friend liked going to, along with the approximate times in which you were most likely to find him there. Approximate meaning, exactly which days he visits and the roughly time of day, down to a mere one hour margin of error.

You scanned the list over, shocked at its detail. Where he cut his hair, got his coffee, bought his books. His favorite restaurants, the chess clubs he’s a member of, his local hospital.

His local hospital?!

“I’m not going to need to know that, am I?” you paused.

“Probably not, but it comes in handy with this job,” she shrugged with a nonchalance that was rather alarming.

There had to be a dozen more places on the sheet –– ranked, in order of his (assumed) preference for them. Penelope calculated it based on the frequency of his visits, their average duration per session, and how often he’d mentioned about the place.

“What?” she tossed her palms up, taking offense when you asked her if she had evil plans to take over the tristate area. “Hang out with him long enough, you tell me if you pick up a knack for researching or not.”

Researching. Mining private data through questionable methods. It’s a small difference to Penelope.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side, Penelope,” you muttered under your breath, flipping the sheet back and forth. “You could ruin my whole life with ten minutes on a computer.”

“I wanted to be thorough,” she defended, shrugging. “And I’d only need five.”

You laughed through your nose, giving the paper one last scan. “You left out one important thing, though.”

“No, I put his home address on there,” her brows wrinkled together as she pointed it out on the sheet with one hot pink polished finger.

“His name,” you berated. “Jesus, you think I’m going to show up at his home?!”

“Again! I’m thorough,” she cried at your accusatory tone. “His name’s Spencer. You’ll like him when you meet him.” 

_

You didn’t doubt that Penelope’s friend was a likeable guy, but you weren’t exactly dying to go out of your way to meet him. You told her that you’d get around to it when you had a chance and left it at that.

And two weeks later, you found yourself in need of a caffeine fix that your tea kettle wasn’t strong enough to satisfy. You started on a new piece late the previous night, and midnight rolled into four in the morning, which pushed you into the arms of seven o’clock. Reinforcements were needed.

Throwing on a large sweater to cover up your messy clothes and grabbing the closest pair of shoes you could find, you originally planned on heading to your usual spot just around your street corner. Just as you were leaving, the list, still sitting untouched in the exact spot that Penelope left it in, caught your eye.

It’d been a while since you told Penelope you’d help her out. Enough time had passed that you now felt like there was an invisible deadline over your head.

Maybe it won’t hurt to try something new?

Besides, meeting someone at a coffee shop seemed like an easy, foolproof way to go about this. From all the movies and romance novels, you knew that cafes are the pinnacle of meet-cute situations. Or, in your case, a meet-forced.

Regardless, it should’ve been simple enough, and it would’ve gotten the favor off your shoulder.

You scanned the sheet for the cafe Spencer would be at on a Thursday at 8 a.m., and got there with barely five minutes to spare before he was expected to show.

It was just your luck that he had to pick a cafe practically as far from your home as he could get, and the transfer train had to have a delay that made you walk the last three-quarters of a mile there. Call it crazy, but you didn’t expect to actually have to put in work for this. You expected it better be worth the hassle.

You took a seat in the back of the cafe to catch your breath as you waited for him to show up. Sitting in the booth, with your head down so you coudn’t be seen, the plan started to feel stupid all over again. You were running around the city, spying on this stranger, and for what?

The silver bell hung over the door frame interrupted before your thoughts could travel down that path of questioning. It rang each time a new patron enters, and within the next twenty minutes it rang only eight or nine times. None of them appeared to be Spencer.

You were prepared to call this one a failure and leave, when you realized your colossal mistake. You only had his name, and no idea what he looks like. So unless he happened to wear a name tag around you could’ve already missed him. You realized then that there were more than a few flaws in this plan.

Keeping an eye on the door, you dialed Penelope’s contact as a swarm of new patrons flooded in.

“How am I supposed to know what he looks like?” you whispered into the phone, failing to cover it with a hand cupped over the speaker. Penelope was confused for only a second by the apparent lack of context.

“Oh! He’s tall, has mousy brown hair but he cut it recently. It’s like… missing on the sides, but it’s all there in the front!” she explained.

What the hell does she mean missing?

“Pen, brunette? That’s like all the guys in here…” You took a look around the full cafe; various men typing on computers, taking calls. All of them looked the same, from their brown hair to their khakis and puffer coats. “You’re going to have to give me a little more than brown hair.”

Penelope struggled to explain and with each new feature she gave you, your mental picture of him got more clouded. “He’s skinny! Dresses like a vintage teddy bear!”

“Does he have kind of like… a hot English teacher vibe?” you quirked your head, spying a man approaching from the sidewalk and drinking him in with your eyes. Tall, brunette, clad in corduroy head to toe with a plaid sweater vest underneath. Vintage Teddy Bear F/W 1978 collection.

“Yes! He teaches sometimes! And you think he’s hot?”

Your mouth gaped even though she couldn’t see you. “No, I - I didn’t say that. I said he had the vibes of a hot teacher.”

“And how different is that from saying he’s––”

“Pen, I gotta go. Your guy’s walking in.” You put the phone away before she could pick apart what you said.

The bell on the front door rang as he came in and you stared intently at his face. If this was like the movies, he’d turn his head right then, at the perfect time, and make eye contact. He’d fall madly in love from the first look, and your work would be done. You sat at the edge of your seat, burning holes into his skull, waiting for that moment.

But alas, he never looked up from the linoleum flooring as he walked up to the counter. With a groan, you slid out of your booth and quickly hopped into the line before anyone else could claim the spot behind him.

New plan: eavesdrop, order the same coffee as him, and pretend to go for the cup at the same time. Laugh about the coincidence, how if you share the same coffee order you must certainly have a lot in common, and have him fall in love with you.

But you overheard him rattle off his order and were absolutely horrified. Black coffee, extra sugar. Like, extra, extra sugar.

You were going to need a second change of plans.

You eyed him up and down, searching for something you could approach him about. He was donning black converse under a fitted pair of dark brown corduroy trousers, with a blazer to match, and a deep green plaid vest underneath. On paper, this outfit shouldn’t work. In practice, it… really did.

A little too well, given how good he looks in it. More fashionable than a federal agent ought to be as required by dress codes, right?

“Can I help you?” you heard, and it poked the bubble of your thoughts. Your head shot up to meet his for the first time, eyes wide as heat crawled up your face.

“Uh. No ––” Shit. You didn’t even realize how long you were staring at his legs. Long, long legs. And shit, why did you say no? That was your opening to talk to him.

The man –– Spencer –– nodded his head slowly, uncomfortably, and turned away with a forced grin. He grabbed the coffee cup placed on the counter and you thought now was the time to say something. But by the time you thought of it, he’d already picked up his cup and made his way to the door.

The stupid silver bell mocked you as he left.

__

The first attempt left you slightly jilted, but a few days later you found yourself in need of a few grocery items. You just happened to be in his neighborhood that day, and though it was very much out of the way of your own, you didn’t plan on it being a problem. He’d never see where you lived anyways, and he’d never need to know how unlikely this chance encounter really was.

You had Penelope text you the address of his regular grocery store, and upon arrival, felt immediate concern. It was not a grocery store. It was a convenience mart slash liquor store at the corner of the street, below a building of worn apartments.

As you walked through the aisles, the only things you found were a large assortment of wines that took up half the small store space, an aisle of candy packets and chips, a section for household supplies, and one measly aisle for canned and boxed foods.

Cereal, instant noodles, soup cans, pancake mix… nothing very fresh.

Spencer seemed like a pretty scrawny guy. You now believed it might’ve been from the fact that his food choices were so off-putting that he simply didn’t eat. It wasn’t your place to be concerned, but you decided that if you ever ended up taking him out, a farmer’s market might be good for him.

You loitered around for perhaps longer than necessary. The inquisitive shop attendant asked if you need help –– as in, why are you still here, get out of my store –– and you told her you were just really conflicted on which detergent brand you needed. Finally, the man you were after arrived at the scene.

“Hi, Dolores,” he greete with a small wave. The attendant, Dolores, greets back with a positivity that she sorely lacked when talking to you. Dolores has favorites, apparently.

An unexpected panic settled in your stomach and you quickly turned back to your selection of fabric softeners. You weren’t hiding, you just didn’t want him to catch you staring again. You picked up your two props, pretending to read the labels on the back and compare the chemical formulas on each of them, when you saw him out of the corner of your eyes.

He went into the aisle in front of yours, and over the short shelves you saw the back of his head sweeping over the modest food section. He turned around to inspect the other side of the aisle, and you ducked your head even lower. It was in vain. He spotted you anyway.

You fixed your eyes even harder onto the bottles, afraid to look anywhere else. He shuffled out of his aisle and turned the corner into yours. You started sweating a little.

“Uhm. Excuse me,” he said.

“Yeah?” You looked up from your bottles, putting on your best caught-off-guard face. Like you were a girl in a movie, reading a book on the beach (not detergent labels in a liquor store) and your romantic interest just noticed how beautiful you looked doing it, deciding he had to introduce himself.

“Can you… can you move…” he asked, gesturing to the section of cleaners that you’re blocking.

Never mind.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry.” You burned up, moving out of his way. He reached for what he needed and you peeked down to inspect the contents of his basket. Organic whole wheat bread, cream of mushroom soup, and somehow, he’d managed to find the only two apples this place must carry. At least there was light at the end of the dark, dark tunnel.

He tossed a bottle of Snuggle fabric softener and you raised your brows. Given that he was “grocery shopping’’ in a three-piece suit –– a good one, too, black trousers, vest and blazer with an eggplant purple shirt and lavender tie –– you would’ve expected him to simply send his clothes out for dry cleaning.

“Snuggle, huh?” you said. He gave you a confused look. “Oh, uh. I was looking at these. Couldn’t pick between the two.” You raised your two bottles of softener; Snuggle and Tide.

You needed him to know you weren’t just saying Snuggle to insinuate that you would like to do that to him. You remembered Penelope telling you he had a degree in chemistry or some sort of science field, and asked, “Is… is that one like, more organic? I was trying to read the formulas but I don’t… I don’t recognize the chemicals,” you trailed off. You could see yourself losing his interest the more you spoke. He barely looked at you as he grabbed whatever else he needed.

“I don’t know… I just like it,” he bristled. You looked down at the bottle and flipped it over to the front. It had a drawing of a teddy bear on it. How fitting.

You go to comment on it but yet again he’d made an escape, already at the checkout counter and unloading his basket by the time you looked up again. You rolled your eyes, wondering if it’s even worth it to follow him into line and see if he sparks up a conversation this time.

You could tell that he wouldn’t. So you gave him the space to buy his items and leave.

You didn’t really need the detergent, but Dolores gave you a pointed look before you could even think about putting it back on the shelf. You ended up buying the detergent, a loaf of bread, and two packets of sweets out of guilt.

As you took the train home, digging into your packet of sour peach rings, you began to doubt if you can carry out Penelope’s request.

_

After two failed attempts, you were prepared to tell Penelope that this just wasn’t going to work out. You didn’t expect it to be this difficult to talk to Spencer nor did you see yourself getting closer to him anytime soon. It would be best if she just found someone else to do it.

You caught her in the hallway, leaving her apartment just as you came home from the store. It seemed like as good of a time as any to let her know how unsuccessful your escapades were going. With your tail between your legs, you approached her with the intention of breaking the plan off.

But the second she saw you, it was like she could read through you. She clocked what you were about to say and before you could, she gave you a warm hug. It was the first one you’d ever received from her, actually. And she thanked you for trying.

It didn’t make you feel guilty, per se, but it definitely made you feel weird about telling her the news. So you bit back on telling her what you were really going to say. She didn’t need to know the details of your failure, or the fact that you were seconds away from giving up on her friend.

Maybe you didn’t need to give up right away.

After all, you did only talk to the guy twice. Don’t they always say the third time’s the charm?

You left the conversation at just that –– letting her know that you’re happy to do this for her, even if you aren’t really –– and slinked back into your apartment. The list, buried under the magazines and paint tubes and half-full cups of cold coffee on your table, called for you.

If by any stroke of luck you happened to share one interest with this guy, you promised yourself to give it one more try.

According to the list, that overlapping interest was the wonderful world of Gatsby Books –– a small, locally owned bookstore residing in the heart of D.C. ’s arts district. That neighborhood was smack in the middle of your’s and Spencer’s, and it was where the gallery you showcase at was.

You’d been meaning to get down there for a while now, anyways. It really was the cutest bookstore in the world; inside it lived a white, bushy-furred cat named Gatsby, and he was always there. After all, it was his bookstore.

It wasn’t such a burden to make your visit fit Spencer’s schedule, really. And it would make Penelope happy if you did. So on Saturday afternoon, you took a lovely walk through the sunny arts district of D.C., a smile on your face and a tote in hand for all the books you were planning on hauling back.

The smell of paper and coffee greeted your nose at the door, and you practically fell into a trance, letting it lead you through the aisles of the store without much thought of where you wandered. Not that it mattered, you could’ve roamed the shelves aimlessly all day long.

In the mystery and thrillers section, you found Gatsby. He jumped down from his perch on a step stool and weaved between your legs, greeting one of his long-time regulars. He was such a good shop owner.

“Hi, Mr. Gatsby.” You smiled and bent down to give him a little head scratch when he started running off in the other direction, taunting you into following him.

He rounded the corner and came to a stop at a pair of boot-clad feet; your eyes moved up to find your favorite employee (after Gatsby, of course) restocking the shelves.

“Miles!” you whispered, but he still jumped out of his skin. He turned around, hand still over his chest, and sighed when he realized it was just you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” you laughed.

“Hey, long time, no see. Back for some more recommendations?” You ‘ooh’ed at his offer.

“I was just gonna say, the ones you gave me last time were so good. I finished them in, like, a week.”

“Really?” He smiled, brows happily up his forehead. You nodded in assent. “Okay, well I’ll give you more this time, see if the list’ll last you a little longer than that.”

You grinned eagerly, following him to the shop counter where he pulled out a stack of bright green post-its and a pen.

“I’ve actually been waiting for you to come in, I already had these in mind for you,” he mumbled, scrawling across the paper quickly. He handed the note over, and it took a moment to decipher the chicken scratches.

“Okay, first you gave me Al-Shayk and Bradbury. Now you’re giving me Chaucer, Dickens, and Doyle,” you recited the note, giving him a teasing look. “Are we just going through the alphabet, Miles?” you joked.

“Honest mistake. But I’d be happy to give you all the other twenty-two letters of the alphabet if needed.”

“I might hold you to that.” You nodded, folding the post-it in your palm to prevent the sticky backing from gunking up. It’d make quite the good bookmark for later. “Thanks for these!”

“No problem, just a part of the job.”

Nonetheless, you thanked him again before disappearing back into the aisles. You found Miles’ books as well as a few of your own and nearly lost yourself in the rows of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, until you made a turn. Standing in the middle of the next aisle was Spencer.

A week ago, he was the whole point of coming to the store. That day, you completely forgot about it, and it stopped you in your tracks to see him there. He was just standing in the middle of the walkway, staring blankly at the shelf in front of him.

“Excuse me,” you grinned, “Could you move?”

You thought it was a cute reference back to the laundry detergent fiasco, a chance for you to turn the tables, but he had no reaction to it whatsoever. His face was straight as he merely pivoted his shoulder out of your way as you reached for the book you needed; The Narrative of John Smith.

His eyes narrowed at you and his nostrils flared, and you wondered if it was called for because you grabbed the last copy they had in stock.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want this?” you asked, waving the book in his face. He was just standing there for so long, you didn’t think he actually wanted anything since he never picked it up.

“No,” he said coldly.

Contrary to Penelope’s review, he didn’t actually seem that warm of a person. But you smiled tightly at him, letting a forced laugh fill the stale air.

“I… I swear I’m not stalking you,” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. Technically it was a bit of a lie, but he didn’t need to know. It’s just something people say when they have the happy coincidence of running into a stranger so often.

“What did you say to me?” he bit. His tone was sharper than you felt like this conversation deserves.

“I mean, I’ve just been seeing you around a lot… it was, like, a joke? Like, ‘ahh watch out, I’m stalking you!’ you know?” With each second he stared you down, you felt your throat dry out, getting more flustered as you felt the need to over explain yourself.

“Maybe you should work on your comedy routine,” he barked, his voice just faintly cracking. He shoulder-checked you as he rushed out of the store in long strides and a brisk pace.

What in the absolute fuck.

You couldn’t stay in the shop for another minute. You dropped your stack of books at the counter with Miles, giving him a rushed apology for leaving them behind as you stormed out of the shop and headed in the opposite direction of where Spencer ran off to.

The air outside was now frosty as the sun disappeared behind the horizon; the wind nipped at your hot cheeks as you charged home. There weren’t enough words to quantify the anger you felt. Your mind ran rampant with how much you now hated this man.

Not only did he bite your head off for no good reason, but he publicly embarrassed you at your favorite place and had gone so far as to bruise your shoulder to make a point. And you know what? If he really wanted you out of his way, you were more than happy to leave him the hell alone for the rest of your life.

You reached into your jacket pocket for your phone and dialed Penelope.

“Hey! How are––” she cheered.

“It’s off.”

“What?”

“It’s off. I’m not dating your fucking friend.”

“What happened? I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding––” she started in a panic. She pleaded that you overlook whatever went wrong and promised that she’d have a talk with Spencer about it. She’d try to encourage him into the direction that you need.

None of that registered in your brain, hot blood filling your ears instead of her words.

“He’s a fucking ass,” you spat. “The more I see of him, the less I like him, and… I’m pretty sure we’d rather kill each other than date at this point. So yeah, I’m done.”

☆

☆

☆

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[sacredsorceress]

My Hero || Peter Parker

pairing: civilian!peter x avenger!reader

summary: when your boyfriend, peter, gets invited to the stark gala for his internship, you have to try to make it through the night without him finding out that you’re secretly an avenger

a/n: peter is in college here! finally another oneshot for our boy petey- reblogs and replies are super appreciated!

word count: 3.9k

warnings: reader has spidey’s enhanced senses, there’s a gun, fluff

masterlist || request || taglist

Pushing open the door of the building you had just had class in, your eyes immediately met those of your boyfriend sitting on the bench waiting for you outside. As soon as you saw him a smile reached across his face and he pushed himself out of his seat, making his way over to you.

“Hey, Pete-”

“- So I don’t know how I got one of these-” Peter started rambling, walking beside you. “They handed it to me and in my head I was like ‘this has to be a mistake’ you know? ‘Cause there’s no way I would get invited-”

“Woah, Peter, slow down!” You laughed, turning to your boyfriend. “What are you talking about?”

Realizing that he hadn’t even told you what he was going on about, Peter stopped and began shoving his hands through his pockets. When you stopped your pace in front of him, you watched as Peter pulled an envelope out of his pocket.

“What’s that for?” You asked.

A smile spread across his face once again as he pulled the invitation out of the envelope.

You swore you felt your heart drop to your stomach when you saw Stark Industry’s logo printed on the piece of paper.

“It’s for this party thing-”

“-Gala.” You corrected him.

“Yeah!” He said. “Gala! It’s for this gala that Mr. Stark is hosting and you know- at first I didn’t think I could be invited, but it has my name and everything.”

You began to tap your feet as he explained this all to you, feeling your anxiousness grow.

“So, are you going to go?” You asked, praying that he wouldn’t say the answer that you were sure he was going to give.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked.

You knew it was a rhetorical question. At least in Peter’s mind there wasn’t a logical reason as to why a 19 year-old intern for Stark Industries shouldn’t go to a Gala- it could open so many doors for him and it was a rare honor- but you knew things that Peter didn’t. To be more exact, he didn't know the things you were keeping a secret from him.

You had known about the Gala before Peter had even mentioned it because you had been invited yourself, not as a Stark intern, but as an Avenger. You had only found out you had abilities a few months ago when you had been bitten by a radioactive spider. Later you had been discovered by the group, but managed to have your identity remain a secret. 

It’s not that you didn’t trust Peter enough to tell him- you were going to tell him- just not yet. You needed more time.

This Gala invitation felt like Tony Stark was purposefully trying to ruin your life, despite the fact that you had never informed him- or any of the Avengers for that matter- that you and Peter Parker, his intern, were dating.

“Of course I’m gonna go!” He said. “Mr. Stark invited me. This is big for me, Y/n. And... guess what?”

“What?” You asked, not particularly enjoying where this conversation was headed.

“I have a plus one.” Peter said.

Of course he did.

“Oh that’s awesome, Pete!” You smiled, beginning to walk in the opposite direction once again. “I’m sure May would love to go!”

Jogging to catch up with you, Peter grabbed hold of your arm, pulling you back.

“May?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. “Why would I ask May? I want you to go with me.”

Looking at your boyfriend, you felt so guilty for lying to him. He was the sweetest person you had ever met and as he smiled at you, hopeful to have you on his arm at tonight’s event, you couldn’t find it in you to say no to him.

“I’d love to go, Peter.” You said. “Pick me up at seven?”

“Yeah- wait.” Peter said quirking his eyebrows again. “How did you know it was tonight?”

Shit.

“Oh!” You chuckled. “I... I don’t know why I figured that. So... seven?”

Slowly nodding his head, your boyfriend nervously chuckled. “Yeah, seven.”

“Okay!” You exclaimed, leaning in to peck Peter’s cheek before pulling away. “I have to go meet my professor. See you later!”

And with that you took off in the other direction, your mind filled with worries about tonight’s event, planning ways in your head to keep your double life a secret from your boyfriend. As you did, Peter watched you walk away, still glued to his spot sensing that something just wasn’t right.

-

Clipping on your earrings, you heard the sound of Peter’s knuckles meeting your door, lightly knocking. Pulling the door open, your eyes met Peter’s and you smiled.

“What do you think?” You asked, gesturing at the dress you were wearing.

You watched as Peter’s jaw practically dropped and he reached out his hand for yours.

“W-woah.” He said in awe, a smiling reaching across his face as he pulled your hand, twirling you around. “You- you look so beautiful, Y/n.”

Despite the anxiety that you were feeling about the night ahead of you, you couldn't help but smile at his compliment. No matter how often he called you beautiful, you still became a smiling mess every time.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Mr. Parker.”

He didn't. Standing in front of you, you couldn’t help but notice how much your boyfriend had gone out for the Gala tonight- adorning a a black tuxedo, his hair slicked in a way that you were sure was his Aunt’s doing.

“Since when do you have a tux lying around?” You asked, tugging on the labels of his jacket.

“I rented it a few hours ago. May picked it out.” He told you, resting his hands on your waist. “D-does it look okay? I thought it might look better than the old suit at-”

Pulling on the lapels once more to bring his lips to yours, you kissed him, quickly shutting him up as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. Smiling and  pulling away you straightened out his jacket.

“You look amazing, baby.” You whispered. “Now let’s get going shall we, Mr. Parker?”

“We shall.”

-

Stepping out of the cab and onto the sidewalk outside of the museum where the Gala was being held, the thoughts that you had been pushing aside for the last nine hours suddenly came to the surface as your heart began to race in your chest.

How were you going to keep everything a secret? You hadn’t even told the other members of your group that you would be attending with your boyfriend... your boyfriend who didn’t know that you had super-human abilities or that you were one of them.

As Peter laced his fingers with yours, squeezing tightly before guiding you towards the building, you gave him a soft smile while all you could do in your head was attempt to haphazardly form a plan.

Stepping inside the foyer of the museum, it was clear that no expense was spared for the night. The room was filled with people you didn’t recognize, waiters with flutes on trays weaving through the crowd. The sound of the orchestra playing mixed with the sounds of the hundreds of conversations around you.

It was times like these that you weren’t so glad to have your abilities, the light of the chandelier glowing brighter in your eyes as your enhanced hearing tuned in on ten conversations around you.

Unlacing your fingers from your boyfriend’s, you pulled him closer.

“I’m going to go find the bathroom, okay?” You told him. “I’ll be back.”

“Already?” He asked. “Do you want me to wait outside or-”

“No!” You exclaimed a bit too excitedly before lowering your voice. “I’ll find you.”

Before he could say anything else, you pushed through the crowd of people, leaving the foyer of the museum to find an empty hallway. When you finally pushed through your last person, reaching an empty exhibit within the museum, you slumped against the all.

Why did you think this was a good idea? Although Peter would have initially been upset with you declining his invitation and Tony Stark would no doubt find it suspicious that you cancelled so last minute on his end, at least you would be spared from the nervousness you were feeling now as your hands became clammy and the air felt as though it grew thicker by the second.

“Y/n?” You heard a familiar voice ask.

Pulling yourself away from the wall and glancing over your shoulder, you looked up to see Natasha Romanoff standing in the doorway of the exhibit.

“Sorry,” You said, playing with one of the bracelets adorning your wrist. “I can leave if I shouldn’t-”

“It’s okay, kid.” She said, smiling. “I didn’t see you come in.”

“Yeah,” You said, chuckling. “That’s because I came with my boyfriend.”

Tilting her head, she smiled.

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone. So your boyfriend came with you?”

Although you knew what she meant, you shook her head.

“Nope,” You told her, popping the p. “I came with my boyfriend. He... he’s an intern for Stark. He thinks I’m here as his plus one.”

“... But you’re an Avenger?” She said.

“He uh.. he doesn’t know that.”

You felt guilty finally saying it out loud, confessing to your mentor that you had been lying to your boyfriend about not only having super-human abilities, but about being a part of the Avengers, risking your life to save others almost weekly.

Rather than lecturing you, she made her way over to you, leaning against the wall beside you.

“I can understand that.” Natasha said before sighing. “But... I also understand what it’s like to live a double life, Y/n. You can’t keep living like this. It’ll make you sick and at some point you’ll lose yourself in the two.”

“But how can I tell him?” You asked, turning to face her. “I’ve been lying to him for so long and he’s just so sweet, Nat. He’d be so worried about me if he knew.”

“You said he’s nice, right?” She asked, smiling as you nodded. “Then tell him. He’ll understand and if he doesn’t... at least you’ll feel better because right now you look like shit.”

Scoffing at her insult you elbowed her. “Thanks, Nat.”

Patting your back and shoving herself off of the wall, she laughed. “What am I if not honest?”

Before you could throw her another snarky comment, however, you watched as she strolled out of the exhibit, heading back into the Gala.

Letting her advice sit with you, you knew that she was right. You had never been as stressed as you were hiding your identity from your boyfriend. You were actually less anxious fighting bad guys than when he would go to grab a pencil from your drawer where you kept your web shooters when the two of you were studying.

You had to tell him- if not for your sake at least his own.

You were afraid to tell him, but Nat was right.

He deserved to know. He was your boyfriend and one of the most kind, honest and understanding men you had ever met- he deserved to know what his girlfriend was up to every night and even the danger he was putting himself in by choosing to be yours.

You decided then that you were going to tell him... except not tonight. Tonight was his night- the night where he finally felt like an appreciated member of Tony Stark’s staff- and he didn’t deserve your limelight ruining it.

Straightening the dress you were wearing, you made your way out of the exhibit and back into the expansive foyer of the museum. Tuning in your hearing, you looked for your boyfriend, but when you heard his voice muffled with Tony Stark’s... it was too late to turn around.

“Y/n!” You heard Peter call. “I’m over here!”

Taking a deep breath, you waved back to your boyfriend, forcing a wide smile onto your face. Striding over to Peter, your eyes met Tony’s whose quickly went wide as he pieced together the situation in front of him.

Before he could open his mouth, however, you extended your hand to him.

“Mr. Stark!” You exclaimed. “It’s so nice to meet you. Peter’s told me so much about you- I’m a huge fan- really.”

Slowly taking your hand and shaking it tightly, he quirked his eyebrows, staring at you for a moment before turning back to Peter.

“Parker,” Tony said, pulling his hand away. “if I knew you had a girlfriend like her, I would have promoted you sooner.”

You felt Peter’s hand wrap around your back to rest on your waist as he smiled brightly.

“W-well thank you, Mr-”

“You know,” Tony said, cutting him off. “I just can’t get over it. She looks exactly like this girl I know. What did you say your name was again?”

You should have figured that Tony was going to give you a hard time.

“Y/n.” You told him, through gritted teeth.

“Y/n...” He said your name again, before chuckling. “God I almost feel like I’m talking to her-”

Before he even had the chance to finish his sentence, however, you heard the overwhelming sound of the glass window that spanned the length of the room shattering behind Tony. Turning your attention to the area, you watched as a large robot-like creature climbed its way into the foyer, kicking it’s legs through the remaining wall. Behind you the crowd of people began to erupt into screams as they rushed out of the doors of the museum. 

“Holy shit!” You shouted, stunned by the android.

At your side you felt Peter’s hand grip yours and when you turned around to face him, you watched as he attempted to pull you in the other direction towards the door, tugging on your hand.

“Y/n, we have to get out of here!” He exclaimed.

You had hoped you had more time.

You had hoped you would be able to break it to him nicely.

But as you turned back around to see Tony Stark’s Iron Man suit forming around him and the robot stepping inside the building, you knew you were out of time.

Pulling your hand out of Peter’s, you watched as a look of betrayal washed over his face.

“I can’t Peter!” You shouted, reaching your hands behind your dress.

“What? What do you mean you can-”

“Are you in or are you out, Y/n?” You heard Tony ask.

Glancing between him and your boyfriend, the sound of the robot destroying tables echoing throughout the room, you nodded at Tony.

“I’m in.”

“What do you mean you’re in-”

Ignoring Peter, you undid the laces on the back of your dress, the fabric falling to your feet.

You were thanking yourself for choosing to wear your shorts underneath your dress right about now.

“Good.” Tony said. “Your suit’s coming in three.., two...”

Stretching your arms out, you felt as the high tech machinery of Tony Stark’s  “spidey suit” for you met your skin. The material stretched across your body, covering your skin until it finally reached around your face, forming your mask.

Turning to look at your boyfriend, you saw his eyes go wide, his mouth practically dropping to the floor.

“What... Y/n-” He stumbled over his words.

Picking your dress up off the floor, you shoved it into your boyfriend’s arms.

“Peter, you need to get out of here!” You shouted over the sound of destruction in the background.

“I- I-” He continued, still glued to his spot. “You’re Spider-Woman?”

“Hey!” You heard Tony shout. “Save the Soap Opera for after we stop this thing!”

Glancing back at Tony and then to Peter, you gently shoved Peter in the direction towards the door.

“We’ll talk about this later!” You shouted, jogging backwards. “Just get out of here!”

Without turning around again to look at Peter’s face, you shot a web towards the android, flinging yourself towards it. When your web met the android’s chest you landed a swift kick to its head before shooting another web, spinning yourself around the android’s body.

“Shit!” You shouted. “This thing’s strong! Can someone help me out?”

As soon as you asked, you watched as a familiar shield came straight for the android’s head, dodging out of the way at the last second, it collided with its face, stopping the animatronic from moving its arms long enough for you to swing yourself around them, webbing them down at its sides.

“Thank you!”

As Tony continued to blast at its face, trying to get a reading on what this creature was, you shot a web towards its waist, swinging yourself around its body once again.

“Taking out the legs, Y/n?” You heard Cap’s voice ask through the earpiece of your suit.

Huffing and Puffing, you replied. “That’s the plan!”

Pulling the webs that you had spun around the android’s knees tighter, you groaned, feeling the strain on your muscles. Just as you were about to lose your grip, the webs slipping from your fingers, both Steve’s shield and the rays from Tony’s palms hit the back of the android’s knees, knocking it onto the floor. Jumping off of the being at the last second, you landed on your knees.

Pushing yourself onto your feet, you heard the clicking sound of a door within the android’s torso opening. When you looked up, your eyes were met with a man who had a gun raised in his hand... pointed at you.

“Hey!” You called shakily, raising your hands. “We can talk this out.”

“Talk this out?” The man said. “I spent two years working on this-”

Before he could say another word, however, the loud clang of a platter meeting the back of the man's head rang throughout the room. When he fell to the ground, your eye’s met Peter’s who stood behind him, the silver tray in his hand.

“Peter?” You asked, tapping the side of your neck so your mask would retract from your face.

Dropping the tray to the floor, he doubled over, hands on his knees.

“That was...” He said huffing. “... so... cool!”

Rushing over to Peter’s side, stepping over the unconscious man’s body, you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend’s back, listening as he wheezed. Knowing his aunt well enough to know that she wouldn’t let Peter leave the house without his inhaler, you slipped your hands into his pant pocket, pulling out the device and placing it in his hands.

As he inhaled a quick two puffs, his breathing slowly evening out as his airways opened up, you and him looked up to find the attention of the rest of the team on the both of you.

“Well,” Nat said breaking the silence, staring at the unconscious man on the floor in front of you. “I guess love really does conquer all.”

Hearing a chuckle settle over the group surrounding you, the next person to speak was Steve, stepping in front of Peter and reaching his hand out for him to shake.

Glancing between Cap’s hand and face, Peter straightened up, clearing his throat.

“Oh, wow.” Peter said in awe, shaking his hand dramatically. “M- Mr. Captain America, sir, I’m a huge fan.”

Smiling, Steve laid his hand on his shoulder.

“I can say the same about you, kid.” He said. “You gotta stand up for your girl- no matter how strong and capable she may be... I would know.”

Without saying another word, leaving Peter starstruck in his spot beside you, Steve walked away towards Natasha. Tony was the last to come up to the two of you.

“Well, Parker,” He said, tapping his wrist so that his suit retracted from around his body. “I gotta say- I’m impressed. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“T- thank you, Mr. Stark.” Peter said nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“I guess we can consider making you a paid intern now.” Tony said. “You saved an Avenger and now you get paid minimum wage- sound fair?”

Nodding his head smiling, Peter took Tony’s hand in his, shaking it. “Yes! Thank you, sir. You won’t regret it!”

“I know I won’t.” He said, pulling his hand back and stepping away from him. “And Peter?”

“Yes?”

“Be nice to her.” Tony said finally shooting you a wink before heading towards the rest of the group standing over the unconscious man.

Glancing down at your hands, fiddling with your fingers, you looked up at Peter.

“I’m so sorry for not telling you, Pete.” You said, taking a deep breath. “I was just so scared. At first I didn’t even know what was going on with me and then the Avengers found me and my life just got so crazy, but you always treated me like I was just me... I didn’t want that to change and I.... I didn’t want you to leave me once you found out.”

Taking your fidgeting hands in his, he squeezed tightly.

“You thought I would leave you?” Peter asked.

You nodded.

“Y/n, I- I would never leave you.” Peter said seriously. “Yeah, it’s super cool that my girlfriend’s Sider-Woman and you look... like... really hot... in that suit-”

“Peter.”

“But I love you.” He told you finally. “Not Spider-Woman- you.”

You weren’t able to help the smile that reached across your face as you listened to your boyfriend. You should have known that Peter would never hate you- especially not for something as cool as having super human abilities- and you almost wanted to laugh at yourself for worrying so much over it. In the end all that mattered was that Peter now knew and he chose to be with you anyway.

Taking your hands out of his, you cupped his face in your hands and pressed a light kiss to his lips before pulling away.

“Thanks for being my hero tonight, Peter.” You whispered.

Smiling, gazing at his face you couldn’t help but notice the blush that began to rise to his cheeks as he nervously scratched the back of his neck.

“Oh that? That was nothing.” He chuckled.

“Hey! Love birds!” Tony shouted from across the room. “The press has gotta be here any minute- better head out unless you want your face on the front page.”

“You’ve got it, Mr. Stark!” Peter called back, waving his hand.

Waving goodbye to the members of your group one last time, you laced your fingers with Peter’s guiding him towards the door.

“Got my dress?” You asked.

Pulling your dress out from behind a nearby vase, he continued his pace handing you the bundled up gown.

“Couldn’t forget that!”

Smiling you slipped behind a wall near the entrance, pulling your gown on. Without asking you felt Peter come up behind you, lacing up the back of your dress as you tapped your wrist, your suit retracting with your touch beneath the dress.

“I don’t know about you,” Peter said, tying the laces. “But I’m-”

“Starving?” You asked, laughing.

Stepping back from tying up your gown, he laughed. “Yeah, want to go grab some post battle dinner?”

Taking his hand in yours, you couldn’t help the smile on your face. “How can I say no to that?”

[kunikuzxshi]

S/O catching Setsuno, Chronostasis, Overhaul, Shigaraki, Denki, and/or Dabi cheating on them with their friend

Gotcha darling <3

My heart broke with shiggy’s with me being the simp I am, so I had to modify his a little bit.

I can’t think with overhaul right now, so you’re only getting 5 of them until I can clear my head. They also seem to get shorter as you go down the list, so sorry!

Angst | GN! reader | SFW

Shigaraki, Setsuno, Denki, Chrono (Hari), and Dabi getting caught cheating

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Dabi

He was gone for days at a time, and he never told you where he was going. His phone was always faced down when he set it down, and he changed his password. You just thought it was private information for the league. Slowly, he started to get cocky, leaving his notifications open for you to see. On the screen flashed your friend’s name and phone number.

Waiting until night, you silently followed him out the door, waiting an extra few minutes to make sure he wasn’t coming back. 

Standing only a few feet away, was your boyfriend who you loved so dearly, holding your friend like she’d disappear if he let go.

“Do you think they’ll find out?” she asked, her eyes locking with his.

“Don’t worry, I made sure they wouldn’t know. Besides, even if they did, I’d rather have you. I’m only with them for ranks.” he said. Your heart shattered like glass. Was that really why?

“I’m right here, assholes.” you said, making sure they could hear you loud and clear. Their heads instantly snapped back in your direction. “I thought I could trust both of you... I guess I thought wrong” you said quietly, trying to hold back your tears.

“Baby wait-” Dabi tried to speak, but unfortunately for him, all he got from it was a hard punch to his stomach. 

You ran away, immediately getting rid of any evidence that either of them had been in your life. The only thing you could do now was watch, leaving you to question what else in your life was fake...

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Shigaraki 

Eyes focused only on his figure as he held someone else in his arms. He promised to change the world for you, he promised you he’d do anything to make you happy. Was that all a lie?

“Shig- please tell me its a prank...” you said quietly.

He knew what he was doing, he knew it’d break your heart if you found out. He tried his best to hide it, but his “new lover” had found your number in his phone and messaged you to meet them somewhere. He didn’t care about them, he just needed the information they had. 

They spoke up. “Sorry sweetheart, guess your luck ran out! Oh well, you could always try again with someone else. Better luck next time!” they mocked, holding his hand tighter as he lowered his head in defeat. 

Your tears spilled from your eyes, soaking into the fabric of your clothes and the concrete below you. “I thought... I thought you loved me...” you said in defeat, your voice cracking as you lowered your head, refusing to met their glare. 

He let go of them and approached you, holding you like his life depended on it. “I didn’t mean it, let me explain... please! I’ll do anything! I did it for us, Y/N, I swear! Please... don’t leave me, I don’t want to be alone again.” he whispered in your ear as the person behind him glared daggers at you. His tears soaked into your shirt as his grip only tightened. 

He picked you up and carried you back to your shared apartment, setting you down on the counter as he kissed your cheek, trying to fix his mistake. He shouldn’t have taken the offer, not if it meant there’d be a chance you’d leave him. His tears mixed with your own as you stayed silent, an occasional sob falling from your lips as he tried to show you that he didn’t mean it.

“It was for you, I’ll explain later if you wish. Just please don’t go, I can’t handle that...” he said softly, “I promise I’ll fix it, I promise I’ll be a better boyfriend, I swear on my life I’ll make it alright, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t leave. I need you, Y/N. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, just don’t go... please. We’ll go wherever you want, you can keep me locked up in a room for all I care, I just want you, no one else! I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” 

He went back to kissing you, stopping to wipe yours tears and his as he pulled you against him. For the rest of the night, you stood there with him, trying to process what had happened, and what he promised you. 

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

Denki

You knew Denki was a flirt, you knew what you had gotten yourself into when you agreed to go on a date with him. You never thought he’d take it this far though.

He promised you that he never meant anything he said to them, he promised you that you were the only one for him, and that everyone else was just entertaining, nothing else.

Yet here he was, kissing your childhood friend, the two people you would trust with your life, had torn you apart atom by atom. 

“Why... What’d I do wrong! If you weren’t happy, you could’ve just been honest...” you said, tears already forming in your eyes as only your “friend” turned to look at you. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t think we were serious.” he said, his tone casual and energetic, like he didn’t even care. 

You ran down the block, only your friend went after you.

“Y/N! I’m so sorry! He told me he was single, I didn’t know anything, I promise! If I had known, I would’ve declined his offer...” she said, tears going down her face as well. She seemed more apologetic than Denki ever was. 

“I-... I can’t just forgive you, y’know? I’m sorry, you can have him, I don’t care anymore. Just don’t talk to me again, I just need time to think...” 

All she did in response was nod her head.

You slid down the wall of a bookstore, watching people across the street, specifically couples, trying to imagine that was you and Denki instead of two unfamiliar faces.

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Chronostasis 

Hari Kurono, a respected thug, in a relationship with Y/N L/N. You knew it was too good to be true. He was pretty, he had some power, and he was a respected yakuza member, second only to Overhaul. 

You were taking care of Eri for the day, you were going to take her to an amusement park, but you came back to grab your bag. In your shared room, was Hari with another woman. His mask was off, and the girl was swooning over him. She even kissed him, and he didn’t do anything, You stood there in silence, slowly backing out, but a floorboard creaked. 

“Y/N?! It’s not what it looks like!” He frantically shouted, pushing the girl off of him and running to you. 

“Really? Then tell me, why are there lipstick marks on you? I don’t even use makeup, jerk!” You yelled back, trying not to curse since Eri was in the next room over. 

You ran out before a big scene could form. You’d deal with it later, but you didn’t want to cry in front of Eri. You picked her up and ran out, not even bothering to look back as he called out for you. 

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Setsuno

He left his mask on your bed. You thought it was a mistake, since Overhaul always made him wear his mask. After about an hour of searching for him, you decided to track his phone. Overhaul would kill him if he found out he didn’t take his mask. 

As you approached the spot he was supposed to be at, it led you straight to a restaurant, one that he would always take you to for date nights. You saw the familiar green shirt and yellow hair, but there was someone else. He noticed you right away as you dropped his mask, taking the knife that was in it. 

He chased you out of the restaurant, frantically calling out your name. “Y/N! Wait! Slow down, I can explain! Please just listen to me!” he yelled, but you continued to sprint down the street, his knife still in your hand. 

He caught up with you and grabbed your wrist. You turned back to face him as he took the knife from you, throwing it across the road. 

“Y/N, please listen to me! I-” he started, only to be cut off by a hard slap to his face.

“Toya! I trusted you! You always said how much you hated cheaters, and here you are, cheating on me with some slut! I’m fucking done with this! Tell Overhaul I quit, I don’t ever want to see you again!’“ You yelled back. His heart broke as he realized what you said, that you were right.

The thing that had broke him had broke you, and it was all his fault. He watched as you walked away, your tears dropping onto the sidewalk. When he got back, your things were already gone, and you had already blocked him on every platform you could think of. He sank to the floor as he cried, his hair covering his face. 

You had forgotten something.

Under the bed, was a box he had given you. It was filled with pictures of you two, gifts he had given you, jewelry, plushies, knives with your names engraved in them, everything. He started picking out object from the box, until he had found a small black box. Inside was ring.

The same ring he has proposed to you with, the very thing he had sworn to love you forever with, was in his hand. He had covered the box with small hearts and even put a picture of you two inside of it. It was the exact same ring, and it was still in perfect condition. He picked it out for you, and you had taken great pride in it, showing it off to the other precepts as you dragged him around with you. His heart broke into a million pieces. The only difference now, was that you were gone. 

There were so many things he wanted to do with you, so many things he wanted to experience with you. He would’ve loved to start a family with you, and don’t get him started on marrying you. He could’ve died peacefully knowing you were his partner for life. Now, he would never get to do that.

 All he had left of you was a small box, flashing memories that he wished he could have back. A constant reminder of you, the perfect lover in his eyes, were now out of his reach, all because of him.

[fruitcoops]

eve omg omg omg the jules fic was so amazing!!!! i'm so excited for the rest :))))

Here’s part two of Adventures in Babysitting! The editing was being finnicky, so I’m sorry for the wait. Hope you enjoy! Sweater Weather and Jules credit belongs to @lumosinlove!

“Are you warm enough?” Sirius asked as he swiped Jules’ bangs beneath the edge of his beanie. Jules nodded, still sleepy even at seven thirty in the morning. “D’accord, let’s get going. Re, did you let Hattie out?”

“Yep, she’s all set in the living room.” Remus kissed him as he passed, hauling his duffel up and resting his hand between Jules’ shoulder blades to guide him down the steps. “Careful, buddy, it’s slippery.”

“I know,” Jules mumbled. “D’you think it’ll snow?”

Sirius looked up—the sky was still fairly dark, but smudges of thick grey clouds seemed to be rolling in. “Probably.”

The drive to the rink was quiet and peaceful; a six o’clock wake up call was tough even on the best of mornings, when they didn’t have a third tiny person to worry about. Regulus sounded like he was waking as they left the house, and Sirius hoped he’d stick around long enough to say goodbye. Pascal’s house wasn’t far, but Sirius knew he would miss having him around.

“Morning, boys,” Remus called as they entered the locker room.

“Morning,” Kasey yawned, stretching his thigh out. “How’s the kid?”

“Sleepy.”

“Big mood. He’s with Moody again today?”

“Yep. They’ll probably come watch again at some point.” Remus smiled to himself. “Thank you guys for showing off yesterday, by the way. He couldn’t stop talking about it the whole evening.”

“Who’s ready to win a game?” James whooped, barging in and looking far too awake for his own good.

Leo frowned. “Game’s tomorrow, Pots.”

“It’s never too early to get hyped, baby rookie.” James patted him on the head as he passed and Leo scowled.

“I’m not a rookie anymore! Loops is!”

“If I call Loops a rookie, he’s going to make sure I never have children again,” James laughed, throwing a t-shirt to Remus from across the aisle. “Here, I borrowed that a couple weeks ago.”

Remus gave it a tentative sniff. “Dude, you didn’t even wash it?”

“It’s something to remember me by.”

“You’re a walking nightmare.”

“Nah, you love me.”

There was a new intensity to their practice that morning—they had beat the Ravens before, sure, but that didn’t mean they were guaranteed to win this time. Even James centered himself, tapping a puck back and forth with Remus until it was nothing but a blur between them. Sirius didn’t see Jules or Moody at any point throughout their ice time, which left him a little disappointed when the timer went off and it was time to hit the gym.

They all did lighter workouts, more like cool down exercises rather than legitimate muscle-building routines. Sirius let himself fall into the rhythm of squats, pushups, and jump-roping until each beat of his heart aligned with the impact of his feet on the mats. The jingle of his ringtone finally signaled the end of practice and a collective sigh went up.

“See you tomorrow, gents,” Nado said as he stood and stretched his back. Sirius felt the mood change as the pre-game heaviness settling over them like a weighted blanket.

Remus wandered over and gave his shoulder a light nudge. “I’ll shower and get Jules while you finish up, yeah?”

“Sounds good. I’ll be quick.” Sirius pressed their foreheads together in lieu of a kiss before turning back to the rest of the guys as stretches began. “You know the spiel. Get some sleep, carb load, all that jazz.”

“Got it, Cap,” Leo said. He tried for a smile, though he looked troubled.

“The Ravens are a great team, but we’re better. We beat them before and we can do it again. Shake off the weird vibes, okay? We can do this.” We have to if we want to make it to the playoffs, he thought instinctively before reaching over to tap the strip of wooden floor that the mats didn’t quite cover. Nope. No playoff thoughts. Just the game.

Eight minutes and a dozen fist-bumps later, they arrived at the locker room in a jumble of bodies. Sirius paused at the end of the hall and heard more than one quiet ‘awww’; Remus was waiting outside, as promised, with Jules fast asleep in his arms. He winked when he saw them and held a finger to his lips, stepping out of the way so they could sneak past.

Moving over a dozen fully-grown hockey players through a small space was not the most stealthy of activities, especially when all of them lingered to get a look at the sleeping child—it was no surprise that Jules woke up partway through and blinked drowsily at them. “Hmm?”

“It’s okay, buddy, you can sleep,” Remus murmured, hitching him a little higher up. “We’re heading home soon.”

“But I wanna watch,” Jules said, pouting slightly. Kasey made a soft noise and put his hand over his heart.

“You can watch the game tomorrow,” James said in a gentle voice. It wasn’t baby talk, persay, but Sirius had definitely heard him use that same soothing tone when Harry started to fuss. Jules snuggled his face into Remus’ neck again with a hum.

Sirius showered quickly and grabbed his bag, barely checking to see if his stuff was all there before ducking out of the locker room with a final mock-salute to the guys. “How long has he been asleep?” he asked as he picked up Remus’ duffel.

“He was out cold on the PT table.” Remus laughed under his breath. “Moody said he was a firecracker for about an hour and a half, but he came back from the bathroom and found him all curled up.”

“That’s so fucking cute. Did you get a picture?”

“Already sent it to my folks.” Remus carefully set Jules in the backseat of the car and buckled him in while Sirius closed the trunk as quietly as he could. Once they were in their respective seats, Remus leaned over the console and gave him a proper kiss, nice and slow. It sent a buzz all the way down to Sirius’ toes.

The lights were off at the house when they arrived; Jules was fully awake by then and Sirius watched his face fall at the same time his own heart clenched. “Regulus left.”

“Yeah, I think so. It’s okay, we’ll see him tomorrow.” Sirius added the last sentence partly for himself—he tried to keep in mind that Regulus was an adult and had moved out ages ago, but they had settled into their routine so quickly. He didn’t want the house to feel empty again.

“Hey.” Remus’ hand was light on his elbow and he blinked, looking over at his smile. “You alright?”

“Yeah, all good. Let’s get some lunch.” He offered a smile that he knew was weak, but Remus linked their hands all the same and kissed his cheek before getting both their bags out of the back.

Jules was playing hopscotch with the checkerboard of ice patches on the sidewalk; it had snowed while they were at practice, after all. There was a faint bark from inside and Jules gasped happily, racing toward the front door with reckless abandon and pressing his face against the wood. “Hi, Hattie-girl!”

Sirius unlocked the door, bending slightly to absorb her impact as she tumbled into them both and covered Jules’ face in kisses, wiggling to pieces with sheer joy. She sprinted for her toy box and grabbed a knotted rope, trotting back to Jules for him to grab the other end and tug.

“Do we have leftovers from last night?’ Remus called from the doorway when Sirius headed into the kitchen.

“I don’t think so, but we have turkey. How does a sandwich sound?”

“F—uh, really great.” Remus grimaced as he walked in and dropped his wallet on the counter. “I have got to be better about my language. Mom’s still mad at me for teaching Jules to say ‘fuck’, and that was years ago.”

“You had no qualms about teaching Harry bad words.”

“And you had no qualms about being on a desert island without me,” Remus said coolly. “Yet here we are.”

“Touché.” Sirius turned around to construct the sandwiches and felt someone lightly slap his ass. He laughed, raising an eyebrow. “Hello.”

“Hey,” Remus grinned, stealing a slice of cheese from his small pile and hopping up to sit on the counter.

“I don’t know why you do that.”

“Slap your ass or steal food? I do both because I love you.”

“I meant sitting on the counter. You know, where we eat.”

“I like to feel extra tall,” Remus said, reaching for another slice of cheese until Sirius gently smacked his hand away.

“Shortie.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s a bad word,” Jules said from the doorway with a smile. He looked quite disheveled from playing with the dog.

Remus sighed. “It is, indeed. Don’t repeat it.”

“I could.”

“But you won’t.”

“I could.”

“I’ll tell mom.”

“She’d blame you for teaching me.”

“I’ll tell dad.”

“He’d think it was hilarious, and then he’d tell mom and she’d chew you out.”

Remus rolled his eyes and scooted over to make room for Jules to hop up next to him. Sirius threw his hands in the air. “Both of you! What the hell? Who taught you to do that?”

They shared a glance and shrugged. Sirius was starting to understand why people thought it was creepy how similar he and Regulus looked. “It’s a side effect of being the wiry kids on the block when everyone else is taller,” Remus said, snorting as Jules flexed his skinny arms.

Sirius handed them each a sandwich and, with a heavy sigh, boosted himself up to join them. The marble was cold, but it was…kind of fun to swing his legs and get a few extra inches of height. “I think he likes it,” Jules stage-whispered to Remus.

“It’s not horrible,” Sirius conceded, taking a bite of his food.

“Come to the Dark Side, we have the best places to sit.”

Jules widened his eyes and wiggled his fingers at Sirius until they were all laughing too hard to actually eat, then fell into silence as hunger took precedence after not having anything substantial since breakfast. “Are you good with reading or watching TV for a bit while we take a nap?” Remus asked between sips of water. Jules nodded, still making his way through his sandwich.

“What’re we doing after?”

Sirius paused at the same time Remus stopped halfway through a drink of water. They made eye contact, and he knew they were thinking the exact same thing: oh, fuck, we actually have to do things with a child around. “Uh, we’re…going to the park,” Remus said.

Jules made a happy noise around his sandwich and swung his legs. “Cool!”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Okay, mom.”

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

The park was a winter wonderland, to say the least. Four inches of snow coated the grassy field and weighed down the branches of the trees lining the playfield, where about a dozen kids built snowmen with their parents. Hattie’s breath fogged the window as they parked and her wagging tail lightly smacked Jules’ forehead every few seconds.

Jules was out of the car the second Sirius turned the engine off, grabbing Hattie’s leash and leaping into the nearest snowbank with a whoop. Remus burst out laughing and followed him with a final glance over his shoulder to Sirius.

They were making halfhearted snow angels when he finally wandered over to the snowbank. They looked so peaceful, so content and happy.

Remus gasped when the first snowball hit him dead center in his chest. Jules laughed even harder until the next one landed in the neck of his coat and poured a veritable waterfall of snow down his front. They both stared up at Sirius in shock and betrayal; he grinned and tucked his chilly hands into his pockets.

“Go for the legs, Jules,” Remus advised as he scrambled up, keeping one hand on his beanie so it didn’t fall off.

Sirius barely made it three steps before Jules grabbed him around the shin and nearly tripped him. He did his best not to drag the kid face-first through the snow, but Jules didn’t seem to mind as he hooked an arm around his other ankle and Remus collided with his shoulder, sending all three of them to the ground in a heap. “Ugh.”

“Gotcha,” Jules said, clambering onto his chest with a breathless smile. Hattie, who had come over to see what all the fuss was about, began licking his half-frozen ear.

Remus sprinkled a handful of snow onto his face, slowly obscuring his view until everything was icy and white. “Vengeance is sweet, huh, buddy?”

“Totally.”

Sirius wiped the snow away and blinked up at two pairs of amber eyes. “I surrender?”

“I should hope so,” Remus laughed as he stood up and brushed himself off, offering a hand to help him to his feet. He kissed his nose in consolation as Jules took Hattie’s leash and ran off toward the playfield, where he would no doubt make seven new best friends within the hour.

“Cute kid,” a middle-aged woman with a kind smile said as she stopped next to them.

“Isn’t he?” Sirius smiled as Hattie rolled onto her back for belly rubs from three different kids.

“How old?”

“Ten.”

Her eyebrows rose and she looked at Remus. “You must have been young when you had him.”

“What? Oh, no, he’s my little brother!” he said quickly.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, you just look so similar,” she laughed, clearly embarrassed.

“No worries, it happens all the time. Which one is yours?”

She pointed to a giggling little girl on the swings, whose dark curls were braided back into a poofy bun. “Lena turned twelve yesterday.”

“Aw, happy birthday to her!” Sirius wrapped his arm around Remus’ waist and put his hand in his back pocket, pulling him close for warmth. They both waved to Jules when he looked over and beamed at them.

The temperature dropped rapidly as four thirty came and the sun began to set; soon, the fat flakes of snow grew smaller and icier as they flurried around the park. Lena and her mother left about half an hour before Remus started bouncing on his toes in an effort to keep warm. Sirius considered himself a decent fiancé, so he figured it would be best to not let Remus freeze solid.

Jules was damp and shivering with melted snow when they got back to the house and Hattie immediately laid down in front of the heater vent as he ran upstairs for a hot bath; Remus and Sirius peeled their soaked outer layers off and hung them in the bathroom to dry.

“If he gets hypothermia, mom’s gonna kill me,” Remus muttered as he shook Jules’ scarf out over the bathtub, though Sirius could see the genuine concern in his eyes.

“He’ll be fine,” he assured him with a gentle hip check. “We were only there for a couple hours and we left pretty quick after it got really cold.”

“He was shivering in the car.”

“Re.” Sirius set his coat down and took Remus’ face between his hands. “Jules will be just fine.”

“We would be really good parents.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Not now, obviously, but I think we’d be good parents.” Sudden nervousness shadowed his face. “Sorry, that was way out of the blue. Do you—do you not want that?”

“No, I do! I really, really do but…we’ve never talked about it before. Like, in depth.” I wouldn’t be a good dad. I barely know what a good parent looks like, aside from yours and the Potters.

Remus relaxed. “Oh. Well, I don’t think it would be a great idea to adopt kids while we’re still working full time playing hockey, but in the future…” He shrugged, the edge of his mouth ticking up in a smile. “I think about it sometimes.”

“Me, too.” There was a splash upstairs and they both laughed. “Well, I guess we’re about to have an indoor swimming pool.”

“I’ll get the towels.”

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

Sirius was almost done with the dinner dishes when he realized he hadn’t heard much noise from Jules’ room in quite a while, and yet Remus had yet to come back downstairs. He paused, listening to the muffled voices—no, not voices. Just one.

He rinsed the last plate and washed his hands, making a face at the weird soap texture and the ensuing dryness of his knuckles. There were few chores he genuinely disliked, but dishes were one of them.

The door to the guest bedroom was still open when he went upstairs, and a soft light shone out. He stopped in the doorway, a greeting dying in his throat.

“—‘hold it up!’ said Gandalf. ‘And look closely!’” Remus lowered his voice into a grumble as he read Gandalf’s lines; Jules was entranced, though he struggled to keep his eyes open for more than three seconds at a time. “As Frodo did so, he now saw fine lines, finer than the finest pen-strokes, running along the ring, outside and inside: lines of fire that seemed to form the letters of a flowing script.”

He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Sirius, flushing faint pink. In the pause, Jules sighed softly. “Why’d you stop?”

“We’ll pick it up again tomorrow night,” Remus whispered, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. “Sleep well, buddy.”

“Sweet dreams,” Sirius added.

Jules mumbled and snuggled deeper under the blankets while Remus set the book on the nightstand and turned the bedside lamp off.

“That was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Sirius said as soon as he had closed the door behind them and they walked down the hall to their bedroom. “Was that The Hobbit?”

“Fellowship of the Ring. It’s one of my favorites, and he picked it up this afternoon while we were napping.” Remus pulled his shirt off and sifted through their sheets for his pajama pants. “Did you do the dishes?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks, baby. That was really sweet of you.”

“You were busy being adorable.”

“Shush,” Remus scoffed, though the blush returned to his cheeks as he curled up under the covers and made grabby hands toward Sirius. “C’mere.”

The bed was cold when he laid down, but Remus was warm, and soon they were tangled together as the moon shone through their window. Sirius drifted off to slow breaths and dreams of the future, where maybe—just maybe—their kid wouldn’t have to leave after four more days. 

[faefictions]

Lonely People | Ch 1

(If you would like to listen to the Lonely People playlist, either send me an ask/message or search for it on my profile!)

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Reader (slowburn, enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 4,015

Warnings: underage drinking (that’s all for this chapter, but I would just like to state now that this story will deal with some heavy topics later on, such as abuse, addiction, and mental health issues. Those chapters will have those warnings before them!!)

“Y/n get over here!”

She searched the room for the voice calling her name, scanning over what seemed to be hundreds of heads before her eyes landed on her friends. The 2 were standing next to the beer pong table, waving their hands, urging her to come over. 

“Jace needs a partner,” Sierra explained, handing her the ping pong ball as she approached. 

“And why couldn’t you play with him?”

“Because I wanted the best, now get over here,” Jace said, pulling her wrist so she would join him. 

Ten minutes later, y/n had made every shot while the other team had made none. 

“Well, as fun as that was, I think I need to actually drink,” she winked at Jace, before grabbing Sierra’s hand and rushing off to take shots. 

“It’s really good to see you two finally socializing again,” Sierra commented loudly over the music. 

“I told you he would get over it eventually,” y/n replied. 

Just two months prior, Jace had tried to pursue a relationship with y/n, but her reply was less than ideal. Her exact words were that she didn’t “do the whole relationship thing”. They didn’t speak for more than a month after that, creating an awkward situation for Sierra considering their shared residence. 

“I mean I don’t think he’s really over it, he just knows that ignoring you isn’t going to get him anywhere.”

Y/n poured 2 shots, hoping that her best friend would just drop the subject. She had done her best to avoid talking about it for the past two months. 

“I thought you thought he was great anyway, I don’t get why you don’t just give him a chance,” Sierra remarked as she took the glass. 

“How about shut up before I stop talking to you too,” Y/n joked, clinking their glasses together and downing the liquid. 

2 shots later, the girls made their way to the living room of the house, sitting on the couch laughing through another story from Sierra’s childhood. This was their usual Friday night, although it wasn’t unusual to find them drunk at a party any other night of the week. 

The three roommates were all in their sophomore year of college and at that point, it was a miracle that none of them had been kicked out of their university. They all had their fair share of absences, tardies, and failing grades. 

Sierra and Jace grew up in the same town, and went to the same schools most of their lives. They didn’t really become friends until they went to college though. People tend to gravitate towards what is familiar, especially in foreign situations. That was the real reason the two became friends, but their bond became inseparable through their freshman year. 

They had met y/n halfway through their first year. She was at a party with her old best friend and Sierra ended up accidentally spilling a drink all over her. She helped her clean up and introduced her to Jace. That was just the first party of many for the three. Y/n fit in right away, and their friendship extended to make them an inseparable group. 

As they were laughing on the couch, the girls heard Jace’s cheers and laughter. They both turned around to see him running laps around the beer pong table, a sign that he had definitely had enough to drink already. 

“We should probably get him home,” y/n stated, a bit disappointed that she hadn’t had the chance to drink nearly as much as she wanted to. 

They both sighed as they got off of the couch, heading over to where he was still cheering. He was now high- fiving his partner, stumbling a little as he did. 

“Hey Jace, Sierra isn’t feeling too well, we should go.” 

The thing about getting a drunk 20 year old boy to leave a party is that he never wants to go. Without a good reason, there is no way he will depart without a fight. So the girls had a system of getting Jace home. They always lied about one of them feeling ill. If he wasn’t drunk every time they used it, he may have caught on. 

“What a shame, he’s one hell of a partner,” the boy beside him chuckled out.

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same guy? Because as far as I’m concerned, he’s never made a shot in his life,” Y/n snarked, making Jace gasp comedically. 

“I never said he was good, just fun. I’m Tom by the way.”

He reached out to shake both of the girl’s hands. Y/n looked at Sierra as she shook the boys hand, and it was obvious that her friend was smitten.

“I’m y/n, and this is Sierra.”

“It’s nice to meet you both,” he said, holding eye contact only with Sierra. 

Jace came over to y/n and threw his arm around her shoulders in an effort to keep himself up, causing her to tense.

“You know it’s a good thing you guys are wanting to go, I’m starting to feel like maybe I had a liiittle too much.”

“Ok, big guy, let’s go,” she chuckled, then glanced to her other friend, “Meet us out front?”

Sierra nodded in response, prompting y/n to try to guide Jace out the front door. After a lot of struggling and weaving in-between underage drinkers, they were at the front door. As y/n reached to open it, Jace fell to the floor. She sighed in annoyance and tried to help him up, but he refused to let her grab him. 

“You are the most stubborn piece of shit.”

“I could say the same about you,” he chuckled from the ground. 

She rolled her eyes at his remark as Sierra and Tom appeared at her side. 

“Need some help?” Tom asked. 

“If you can work the miracle of getting him out the front door, be my guest.”

Tom stuck out his hand, and Jace took it right away, sticking his tongue out at y/n as he got up. The girls watched as Tom helped their roommate stumble out on the front lawn. They reached the front sidewalk when Jace suddenly stopped. He stumbled over to the tree a few feet away and used it to prop himself up while he spewed everywhere. 

“We were only here for like an hour. How is he this drunk already?” y/n mumbled to Sierra. 

“I told you he’s not over it. This is just exhibit A. Welcome back to the shit-show.”

A bit of guilt hit her in the chest, but she pushed it away. She told herself she shouldn’t feel bad for not liking her roommate back. At least she didn’t string him along, she told him the truth the second he mentioned his feelings. 

“Hey, mate, everything ok over here?” they heard someone call over to Tom. 

“Oh my God, there’s two of them,” Sierra squealed quietly to y/n, causing her to stifle a laugh. 

Tom told his friend that he was helping the girls get Jace out of the house, and introduced the boy to them. “This is Harrison.”

They all mumbled some nice to meet you’s before returning their attention to Jace. He was now leaning against the tree, luckily his puking had paused. 

“I’m taking the chance between hurls to start walking him home. You can stay here if you want, Si.”

She knew Sierra would have much rather stayed and gotten to know the boys. The expression on her face every time she glanced at Tom really gave it away. 

“I’ll feel like a terrible person if I don’t help you get him home.”

“We live like 2 minutes from here, I’ll be fine. You should really stay. I don’t know that there will ever be a party where you don’t have to babysit Jace again.”

“Hey, I can still hear you,” Jace called from by the tree. 

“Seriously, Si. Stay, and call me if you want me to come back and walk you home.”

Y/n walked over to Jace and put his arm around her shoulders again, helping him stand up. She was almost a whole foot shorter than him, so she wasn’t the best support, but she was better than nothing. 

They got back to their apartment, only having to stop twice for Jace to puke again. As soon as they were in the door, he rushed to the bathroom in his room, too rushed to shut any doors. She sighed at the sound of him violently heaving, knowing he was going to feel like shit the next morning. 

She went to her bathroom cabinet, grabbed some tylenol, and went into his room. She got his water from his bedside table, replacing it with the tylenol, and grabbed a blanket from his bed. Jace was sitting against the wall across from the toilet, so she took a place right next to him, setting the blanket over his legs. 

“Thanks,” he muttered. 

“No problem, now drink,” she said, handing him the water bottle. He reluctantly grabbed it and took a few sips before closing it again. 

“I put some tylenol on your bedside table. Take a few when you wake up, and when you’re done they go in my cabinet. Where’s your phone?”

“In my jacket.”

“Ok,” she grabbed the phone from his pocket and walked to his bed to plug it in. 

“It’s charging. Feel free to come knock on my door if you’re dying, Ok?”

“Ok… Thank you y/n. Seriously,” he was quiet, but she knew he appreciated her. 

“Of course. What are friends for?”

She returned to her room, finally getting the chance to look at her phone. 

She had four texts from Sierra. 

OH MY GOD this Tom kid is my future husband stg

His friend Harrison is pretty cute too. We could double date. Jace would hate it ;)

TOM IS GOING TO WALK ME HOME LATER!! AHHHH!!!

It might be the alcohol, but I think I’m in love

She chuckled at her friend. Their romantic lives were exact opposites. Relationships were the last thing on y/n’s mind, love didn’t matter to her anymore. But to Sierra, EVERY-SINGLE approachable boy was automatically her new soulmate. Going to the mall with her was like going on Tinder. Y/n was annoyed by it initially, but she found it entertaining at this point in their friendship. 

Y/n waited up for Sierra, wanting to be sure she got home safe. When she heard the front door open, she peaked her head out of her bedroom. She heard Tom and Sierra exchange goodnight’s, and watched as he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek before walking away. 

The blush on Sierra’s cheeks was evident even in the dark, as she closed the door with wide eyes. 

“Ok, for a heartless woman, even I thought that was adorable,” y/n whispered from her doorway. Sierra immediately turned to her, a giddy grin on her face. 

“He was such a gentleman. Those don’t exist around here. I told you, I am marrying him. I have dibs. Every other girl can suck it.”

********

On Monday morning, y/n woke up to her alarm loudly sounding off. She hated Monday’s because she had one of the only classes she cared about. She had it on Wednesday’s too, but skipping parties on a Tuesday was easier with her roommates. But Sunday nights were a little more difficult for her to turn in early. If she skipped class, she would feel guilty, but getting up at 7 am was hell. So when the alarm went off, she got up and threw on some pants and a sweater, bracing herself for the chilly morning. 

She walked into one of her few Photography classes, being 2 minutes early for the first time all year, despite having stopped for coffee on the way. She sat down near the door on the left side of the room, getting her laptop out of her bag and sighing in and effort to ready her brain for the lecture. 

It was a fairly small class, full of Visual Arts majors. Y/n wanted to be a photographer when she graduated, that was the reason she never skipped that class. Even if she got herself kicked out of the university, at least she would have soaked up some knowledge about what she actually wanted to do. 

There were only about 12 students in the class when the professor, Mr. Sullivan, walked in, quick to comment on her being there before him. She wasn’t teachers pet, but she definitely had a relationship with this professor. She wasn’t lacking talent and he was quick to pick up on it. He wished she had better work ethic, but he knew that nothing he said could change that in her. 

After the first few minutes, the full class was there, a measly 16 students. The professor was going over some kind of composition lecture, but y/n wasn’t exactly paying attention. She tried her best to not go out drinking on Sundays, specifically so she could go to her Monday morning class without a hangover, but Jace and Sierra had begged her to go out with them for a couple hours. They promised they would be home by 9 pm, but 9 turned to midnight, and by the time they were leaving, she was about 6 shots in. That was the point where she went over the line between tipsy and drunk. 

So she was definitely hungover that morning, despite drinking a couple cups of water before bed. She tried her hardest to pay attention, but her professors voice was monotone and seemed to fade to the background, her headache the only thing on the forefront of her mind. She grabbed the bottle of pills she kept in her bag, full of tylenol and allergy pills. She took a couple pain relievers with the coffee on her desk, before trying again to concentrate on the lesson. 

Halfway through the hour, her professor finally caught her attention by announcing that they were going to begin working on their midterm. 

“We are going to be partnering with one of my colleague’s Fashion Modeling classes. I want you to make a portfolio as if you were applying to be a fashion photographer. I know that isn’t the field a good chunk of you are interested in, but it’s a good source of income and you might find yourself doing it on the side at times. You’ll all be paired up with a model at the end of class, and together, next week, you will find a few different outfits that our theatre department is nice enough to lend to us. The portfolio will be due on the last Wednesday of the quarter, so you will have about 2 months to complete it.”

Y/n sighed, resisting the urge to bang her head on her desk. She had taken portraits of families and High School seniors to make money on the side, so she knew how the general public was on the other side of her camera, but the one time she had worked with an aspiring model, she wanted to punch the girl’s face in. She was so bossy and entitled, and she openly said that she could have taken better photos of herself. After that, y/n openly hated models. 

He continued on to show different examples of fashion photography from magazines and websites, being sure to go over every single tiny detail of his favorites. 

With about 15 minutes left in class, someone poked their head in the door, asking if his class could join them. The modeling class came in. There were 18 of them, meaning that 2 of the photographers were going to be having 2 models. The only thing that would have made the situation worse for y/n would have been having to work with two models instead of just one. 

“We took the liberty of pairing you up based on prior assignments,” her professor announced before starting to call off the names of partners. 

She breathed a sigh of relief when the second photographer with 2 models was called out, knowing she only had to deal with one diva. 

“Y/l/n, you will be photographing Harrison Osterfield.”

She looked around the room to see which model raised their hand. She was relieved that she would be working with a male model, and when she saw who was raising their hand, she was even more relieved to see the boy she had briefly met at the party on Friday night. He hadn’t seemed too horrible, so she had hope. 

The professors finished calling out names and released the students to meet their models, get acquainted, and exchange contact information so they could begin planning shoots. 

She said hello to Harrison as he approached her, opening her sketch app on her laptop, ready to begin planning shots. 

“You’re Sierra’s friend right?”

“Yeah, y/n,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand. 

“It’s nice to put a name to the face,” he smiled. 

“Here,” she said, writing her name and number on a piece of scrap paper. She tore the excess off and handed it to him with a small smile. 

He entered it into his phone, shooting her a text letting her know it was him. 

“When you have exchanged information, you guys are excused. We will be meeting back here first thing on Wednesday,” the modeling professor announced 

“Y/l/n, stay behind a second,” Mr. Sullivan called out before she could make her way out of the class. 

“Ohhhhh,” the boy sitting next to y/n whispered to her. 

“Oh, shut up, Rob,” she scowled, swatting at his shoulder, causing him to chuckle. 

Y/n packed up her belongings in her bag, and made her way up to the professors, leaving Harrison behind without so much as a glance goodbye.   

“So, y/l/n, we paired you two up for a reason. According to Mr. Reynolds over here, Harrison is the most promising model in his class. He asked me to pair him with my most talented.”

“And you didn’t give him to Robin?” she asked in false surprise, causing the professor to scoff. 

“Don’t be a dumb ass. But since I paired him up with you, that means you are going to be coming to class on time from here on out, right? And hopefully this is the last class you come to with a hangover.”

“Professor, you and I both know I am too young to drink. I would never come to my favorite class with a hangover. How dare you?” she said, sarcasm thick in the entire interaction. 

“They’re going to get along well,” Mr. Reynolds scoffed from the side. 

“I’m serious, y/n. You and I both know you have more potential than you are showing right now. This is my second year with you, and I am not going to go as easy on you as last year. I’ve let a lot of your behavior slide, but I am not going to be like that anymore. I want a perfected 15 shot portfolio from you. Anything less will earn you a failing grade.”

Her smug expression fell, “15? You told everyone else 10.”

“Well, congratulations, you are my most promising student, and I’ll be holding you to a higher standard for this assignment. Show me you can do it and your final will be the same as everyone else’s at the end of semester.”

“Ok, fine, but you better expect an extra photo at the end of my portfolio, a picture of a very specific finger.”

He laughed at her snark, knowing fully well that she was serious. She had turned in a photo just like that for one of her assignments the previous year. The composition fit the criteria exactly, so he hadn’t failed her, and that had started his interest in her as a pupil. 

“I’ll expect nothing less, I’ll see you on Wednesday, Ms. y/l/n.”

She smiled as she walked out the door, ready to go home and fall back asleep in her bed, but the boy in the doorway ruined her plans of that. 

“Wow, you really have some balls,” Harrison said and she passed him. 

“Were you listening to that whole thing?”

“Of course. I heard my name as I was walking out, so I had to eavesdrop. Glad to know I’m the most promising in my class, and that I’ll be working with the best photographer.”

“Oh, trust me, I am far from the best in my class. Sullivan just has some weird obsession with pushing me harder than anyone else. I think he thinks I am a prodigy or something, and he assumes that if he pushes me hard enough I’ll have some kind of breakthrough and become this amazingly famous photographer and I’ll owe it all to him. I would shut that theory down, but he lets me get away with a ton of shit because of it, so I let him think whatever he wants.”

“So if you aren’t this amazing photographer that he thinks you are, should I be worried about the midterm grade?”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about that. I have perfected the art of giving that man exactly what he wants. We’ll pass with flying colors.”

“Ok, good to know,” Harrison chuckled, “By the way, Tom hasn’t shut up about your friend since Friday night, in a very obnoxious way. Any chance she likes him too?”

“Why doesn’t he ask her himself?”

“Is that a yes?”

Of course y/n knew how much Sierra liked this guy. She had spent the weekend listening to her drone on and on about him, asking why he hadn’t texted back or complaining that he hadn’t shown up to the same parties. It had gotten old after the 17th time she had brought him up, so y/n understood where Harrison was coming from. 

“That’s her business. But if he wants to see her, we’re going to a party tonight. I can send you the address.”

“But it’s a Monday.”

“And?”

“Do you often go out on Monday nights?”

“Day of the week doesn’t matter. You want the address or not?”

“Sure, why not.”

“Ok, well I’m going to go sleep off this headache, I’ll send it to you later.”

She departed their path, leaving him smiling after her. He was amused by her. She was a small girl with the personality of a seasoned bouncer outside a nightclub. Something told him that working with her was going to be a difficult task though. 

Sure enough, a few hours later, he got a text from her. It was an address of a house about 20 minutes away from his shared apartment with Tom. Harrison was in his bedroom waiting for Tom to get home when he got it. He glanced at the message, too focused on the textbook in front of him to actually read it. He knew that if he was going to be going out that night, that he should get at least some of his work done beforehand. 

Tom came through the door, throwing his bag down on the floor in exhaustion. He had 2 back to back morning classes and then a 4 hour shift at work. He wanted to lounge for the rest of the night, but his plans were quickly ruined when Harrison appeared from his bedroom. 

“So guess what I did,” he called with a smug smile. 

“Good afternoon to you too,” Tom replied, collapsing onto their sofa. 

“You know that girl you won’t shut up about?”

Tom’s face lit up, eagerly asking Harrison to continue. 

“I got the address of a party she’ ll be attending tonight. Figured you would want to go.”

“But it’s Monday.”

“That’s what I said. Sounds like you found yourself a party girl. You want to go or not?”

Tom let out a loud groan. Of course he wanted to go, he had a huge crush on Sierra, but he didn’t want to stand up ever again. 

“Fine, when is it?”

“We’ll leave in 2 hours, lover boy.”

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[twistedblud]

FINE LINE SERIES

Part 1: Adore You

pairing: dom x female!reader

description: a couple who fell in love and got married — very young and now with a kid. always told they were young and naïve. where did they go wrong?

warning(s): a hint of fluff, the tiniest bit of angst? just a moment of vulnerability is all. nothing too big coming up until the third part! 

a/n: my first series and i’m kindaaa nervous haha. but if you like it i’d appreciate if you left a comment, like, or reblog. it helps a lot. also, lyrics won’t be in exact order, just whenever they relate to the descriptions.

series masterlist & series playlist

“Y/N! He’s here! Up, let’s go!” Antonio called out. You huffed, only audible to yourself, at the words coming from your boss’ mouth and quickly got up from the seat at the vanity. You got your station prepped, making sure everything from the powder to the eyeliner were present. You couldn’t afford to be back and forth between the stock room looking for anything you may have missed. 

A few more hours. 

A few more hours.

After this shoot you leave, Y/N.

It had been a busy Thursday afternoon with Antonio and the first shift staff at your work, throwing out demands on top of demands. Now it was just after one in the afternoon and you were over the day. Antonio’s assistant, Tia, somehow spilled a coffee all over your precious denim jacket, which resulted in you taking an early break, frantically trying to find something else to cover up with. 

Thankfully, a new girl on the job happened to have a spare bomber jacket, not hesitating to lend it to you.

The day had went on and the team rushed around, making sure to prep the snacks for whichever artist they had coming in soon. Honestly, you hadn’t paid much attention at the meeting which discussed the artist and their vision for the project. You remember briefly hearing something about a Dominic, and him being from somewhere the UK.

You spent the minutes before the talent arrived on a conversation with your fellow co-workers, not being able to see your best friend at the job, as she always worked the shift after you.

Tia rushed over to your work space, closed off from the actual set, where photos were taken. “He’s here Y/N. Antonio says to make sure everything is ready please.” you nod, forming a fraudulent smile at the young girl before she walked away, but not before almost running into a group of men. You met the eyes of the guy in the middle of the group, being greeted with a warm smile. You returned it, not wanting to be completely rude but also wondering who he was.

I get so lost inside your eyes.

The mystery man stopped one of the staff members speeding past and whispered something. The staff member pointed directly at you before the man thanked her, and walked away. He made his way over to your station and paused directly in front of your figure. You took note of his dyed hair, the blue and pink streaks roaming freely throughout his head. 

“I was directed over here...Y/N right? You’re doin’ my makeup?” the man spoke, a heavy accent rolling off of his tongue. You nod slowly, not breaking eye contact with the man. He shot you a comforting smile, stripping out of his leather jacket, dropping it in the arms of a person in the group he walked in with. “Hold this for me, yeah? N’don’t spill anything on it like last time. M’begging you Adam,” Dom asked the guy before him-now identified as Gavin.

“I’m Dominic but feel free to call me Dom. Actually, I’d prefer if you called me Dom,” He rambled out. You try not to laugh at his introduction as you watched his, only what you could presume team, walk away and find seats near the snack area.

You motion to the seat in front of the mirror, allowing Dom to take a seat, watching him get settled. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it before beginning to type away on it. Already having the essentials laid out before you two your eyes land on the eyeliner, along with the eyeshadow palette. You took note of the earthy tones and tried to brainstorm. It was your job to envision a look. It was your job to execute the look.

And it was your job to satisfy not only your boss Antonio, but Dom and his team as well. You couldn’t afford to have any complaints against you, especially given this was your only source of income.

You grab the top and side of the chair Dom was sitting in, drumming your fingers along the chipped wood as you stared at him through the mirror. You studied his stoic eyes, his basically-average nose, and even down to his lips. His lips were his most prominent feature, his hair coming in a close second. You hear the sound of his phone locking and he set his phone down into his lap. Dom looks up into the mirror and made immediate eye contact with you. You blinked frantically, breathing out and breaking the eye contact.

“Can I ask what the staring match was for?,” Dom questioned you, and you look back at him in the mirror. “I like to visualize. Just mix and match the possible looks.” Dom nodded in understanding. You continued, “It may seem weird but it helps. I swear,” Dom reached forward to grab a stray piece of plastic off the surface in front of him and began fiddling with it. 

“I understand Y/N. Forgot I work in the music industry myself?” Dom questioned you and you laughed. “Hey, I didn’t completely forget Dom. I just...suck at remembering things, especially here” you vent out to him. 

“S’okay. We all forget things sometimes, yeah?”

You hum out a quick “mhm” and tilt your head to the side as the perfect concept for Dom’s look comes to mind. Realizing that you subconsciously leaned part of your weight on the chair where he sat during your conversation, you push yourself back up and move to the front of the station, moving to get everything opened.

Dom watched you intently as you opened the eyeliner, making sure it was good. “You don’t mind?,” Dom randomly asked, you looking up to meet his eyes in the mirror once again. “Sorry, meant the eyeliner. The eyeshadow. You don’t mind putting it on me?”

You turn to face Dom with the eyeliner in hand and used your left hand to slightly tilt his head back. You move that same hand to the side of his left cheek, holding it there, as you began to bring the eyeliner toward his waterline. “I don’t mind it all, actually,” you slightly frown, “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just...people? The close-minded ones. Always judging me for wearing certain products or clothes.” You watched his eyes move to look down at his lap, Dom beginning to pick at his jeans. “Mostly get weird looks from other stylists in the industry for my interest in this kinda stuff. Not to mention the trolls online. It makes me...”

“Well it’s sexy to me. Any guy who can rock eyeliner and eyeshadow? A win to me.” Dom’s eyes went slightly wide, a goofy smile forming on his face. You simply stroked your thumb along his cheek, in a friendly manner, before beginning to apply the eyeliner.

---

Dom noticed you packing the last of your stuff into your purse, pleading with his team for a few more minutes. His convincing finally worked, but when he turned to your station, you were gone. The next shift of staff members piled in, taking your place at the station you once occupied. Dom let out a huff, running a hand through his wild hair. He wondered how you left so quick. But more importantly where you were.

Your lipstick had managed to slip out your purse in the process of you shoving everything in there, your coffee-stained jacked peaking out from the top. Dom noticed it on the floor and immediately picked it up. He briefly read the label: NYX Matte Lipstick in the shade Strawberry Daiquiri. Dom connected the dots, it now making sense that when you two were interacting, he smelled a frequent aroma of strawberry overpowering vanilla.

Strawberry lipstick state of mind.

“You can try the sidewalk. Y/N usually waits for her Uber there.” A voice snuck up behind Dom. He turned around to see a girl before him. She was only a tad bit shorter than him and slim, her skin a reddish-brown. A septum piercing stood out through her fuller nose, along with a simple nose piercing on her left side of her nose.

Dom realized he hadn’t replied back to the girl and shook his head, hoping she hadn’t noticed. Instead he cleared his throat, resting his hand on his hip, pushing back the jacket he had on. “How rude of me. Thank you!” Dom exclaimed, eyebrows furrowing as he looked around at the various exits, wondering which was quick to find you. The girl pointed to a door across from them. Dom thanked her again and headed toward the door but stopped in his tracks, turning around to the same girl who had been a help just moments before.

“Sick piercings by the way.”

----

Three more minutes. 

You looked down at your phone screen, tracking your Uber driver and his navigation as he reached closer to you. You waited in anticipation, finally relieved that your workday had come to an end and soon, you’d finally be in the comfort of your own home. You smiled at the thought of curling up on your sofa with a glass of wine, watching the newest episode of Grey’s Anatomy, with your puppy curled up by your feet.

Until then you waited on the sidewalk, swaying back and forth on the heels of your feet. You contemplated opening up the app Candy Crush to kill time, but the thoughts were interrupted, when you heard footsteps approaching you rather quickly. You squinted, barely made out who the figure was.

Dom halted in front of you, nearly crashing into you. You grabbed the side of his arms to help prevent him from plowing you over. He was audibly out of breath, huffs coming from his mouth. “Y/N...you left your, uh, lip stuff on the floor?” He handed you your beloved NYX lipstick. 

I'd walk through fire for you

You graciously thank him, “Holy shit, thank you Dom! Didn’t even realize I dropped it.” Your smile was small, yet still contagious, Dom fidgeting as you both hear the chime on your phone which signaled that your Uber was just around the corner.

You make out a quick goodbye, not realizing he had more to say. “Wait! If you’re not too busy, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go out? Maybe this weekend? I know, shit, this is very weird and sudden but, I just wanted to ask-”

Just let me adore you

You giggled at his rambling and grabbed his hand, guiding him off of the sidewalk and near a random building, and away from you referred to it as, sidewalk rush hour.

Dom groaned in what you could only assume was embarrassment, slowly letting go of your hand, when you had finally worked up an answer to give him.

“I think I know what you’re trying to ask, and I’d love to, actually.”

Like it's the only thing I'll ever do.

Taglist: @wallows-spring

Part 2 will be linked here when it is published! And comment to be added to the taglist!

[hogwarts-riddle]

Eternalism: Chapter V

The streets of London were much like Hermione remembered them and yet different at the same time. It was strange to see so many cars that would have been considered antiques in her time, and so many people wearing clothing that she had only ever seen before in museums. The whole world was like a museum to her, and while she had never been the most enthused by history, it was still fascinating to her.

While the streets were crowded with people dressed to the nines with an assortment of fancy furs and hats, there were a few of those who were considerably less privileged. Every now and then she would spot a group of beggars poking their heads out of alleyways, holding up tin cans as they pleaded for even so much as a bread crumb.

It broke her heart to see such things and made her feel rather guilty for grumbling about her own life. Sure, she was stuck in an orphanage where she was made to slave away for Mrs. Cole, but she still had a roof over her head and two half-way decent meals a day. These people had neither of those things.

She had to force herself to look away, ignoring their cries for help as she followed after Tom down the sidewalk. There will always be those who are homeless and hungry in the world, she thought. As much as she would like to help everyone, it was impossible for her to do so. If she succeeded in her mission, she would save the lives of many who had perished in her time. That is enough, she told herself.

“Where did the professor say that we were supposed to go again?” Hermione asked, focusing her full attention at the task at hand.

Tom, who was holding the piece of paper that Dumbledore had given them with directions, was looking this way and that to find something. “It’s called the Leaky Cauldron and apparently it’s supposed to be at the end of this street, next to a barber shop.

“Though, I wouldn’t be surprised if he gave us the wrong directions.” Tom added cryptically.

Initially she had expected to know exactly where the Leaky Cauldron was located, seeing as she had been there many times, but it was becoming more and more clear to her that she didn’t remember it as well as she thought. She hadn’t accounted for the fact that London in 1938 was not the same as London in 1997.

They searched for a while longer without luck. Hermione had thought for sure that they would be able to spot it easily enough with a blue and red swirly pole standing out front, but there didn’t seem to be any such pole to be found. Eventually they gave up on searching and sat down to rest for a bit.

“Perhaps we ought to return to the orphanage,” Tom suggested. “I think it’s clear to see that this so-called professor was lying.”

He didn’t show it outright, but she could tell that he was disappointed. The thought of leaving the orphanage behind and entering a world of magic had delighted him just as much as it had her. However, she refused to give up so easily. Unlike him, she knew for a fact that this world did exist. They just had to find it.

She recalled what Dumbledore had told them, as well as her own memories of visiting the place. It was made purposefully difficult to find in order to keep muggles away. She imagined that the building itself wouldn’t have changed that much in fifty years, as it looked as though it came straight out of the dark ages.

She started searching again with that particular architecture style in mind. There were a couple of such buildings scattered across the street, but they all looked to be abandoned, making it difficult to determine which one was hiding a magical pub.

She was just about to look away when she suddenly saw a woman dressed in vibrant green robes much like she had seen witches and wizards wear, escorting a young boy towards one of the abandoned buildings.

“Look over there,” she nudged Tom, pointing the mother and son pair out to him. “The lady is wearing a witch hat.”

Before he even had time to fully process it, Hermione had grabbed him by the hand and led him off in the same direction.

The appearance of the building before them began to change with every step they took towards it. The windows which had previously been boarded up, were now in perfect condition with not so much as a crack in the glass and a sign appeared out of nowhere, hanging above the door that read ‘Leaky Cauldron’.

Hermione couldn’t contain her excitement as they waited for the woman and her son to slip inside before following after. She couldn’t wait to re-enter the wizarding world. Even though she was fifty-some years into the past, it still felt like home to her.

The moment they crossed the threshold inside, they were bombarded by the smell of alcohol mixed with smoke. It was by no means necessary pleasant, but it was familiar to her and made her feel oddly at ease. 

The pub wasn’t overly crowded, with only a handful of people scattered about, seated at tables with a bowl of stew and a mug of drink. It would have been no different than the average pub had it not been for the fact that the spoons were stirring by themselves and dishes were flying through the air to and from the tables.

“Excuse me, sir, but could you tell us where we might find Diagon Alley?” she asked the man at the bar. Much like Dumbledore, Tom the barman was quite a bit younger than she was used to, but it was still him. “Professor Dumbledore said that you might be able to help us.”

Turning to face them, he gave them a good look over. “A couple of first years, are you?”

They both nodded their heads.

“Very well, follow me.”

Silently they followed him behind the bar, through the storage room and out through the back door where they found themselves face to face with a brick wall.

“This is Diagon Alley?” Tom asked with a furrowed brow.

The barman shook his head as he pulled out his wand, which incidentally looked like nothing more than a long twin twig, and began to tap the wall with it. Hermione could still remember the exact combination. Three bricks up and two across.

“No, lad, this is Diagon Alley.”

The bricks began to move all on their own, forming an archway that looked out onto the familiar cobblestone street she knew all too well. 

Her eyes sparkled with joy as she took in the sights. She had visited Diagon Alley many times before but somehow each time was just as exciting as the first. It was like going to a carnival. There were always new wonders to behold.

Remembering her own first time visiting, it wasn’t hard to imagine what Tom was feeling. She could clearly see the look of awe in his eyes. He was practically bursting with excitement, eager to explore every inch of the place. Then there was a part of him that hungered for the knowledge contained within this place. He yearned to learn everything there was to know about magic.

The more she got to know him, the more she realized that he really wasn’t all that different from her. As strange as it was that she could relate in such a way to the future Lord Voldemort, it was also rather nice. She had never met anyone who hungered for knowledge as much as she did.

With his hand still wrapped in hers, the two of them hurried off down the street, winding their way through the crowd of witches and wizards both young and old. They didn’t even cast a backward glance to see the archway closing in behind them.

Pulling out their school supply list, they decided to head to the bookstore first. Hermione led them straight to what might just be her favorite shop in all of Diagon Alley; Flourish and Blotts.

The necessary set books for first years were mostly similar to those she had in her original first year, save for a couple that hadn’t been written yet. Some of the information in the books was bound to be different as well and she was looking forward to comparing which publication was more accurate.

They had a bit of trouble figuring out how they were supposed to pay for everything, but then they remembered how Dumbledore had mentioned the school having a student fund. The shopkeeper explained to them that any and all of their purchases would be charged to the school’s account.

Next they went to get their uniforms. She was surprised to find that Madam Malkin’s wasn’t in existence yet. It really shouldn’t have come as that big of a shock to her though as she thought about it. Madam Malkin had seemed rather young. She wasn’t even sure if the kind witch was even born yet.

That meant that the only place to get robes was at Twilfitt and Tatting’s. 

Inside Twilfitt and Tatting’s there were many wizarding families standing around, some parents waiting as their children were fitted while others were waiting with their children to be fitted.

“Maybe we should come back later when it’s not as busy,” Tom suggested.

She shook her head. This being the only clothing shop in the entire alley, she had a feeling that it would be just as busy when they came back. 

“We have time. Unless you’re particularly eager to go back to Mrs. Cole?”

Tom pulled a face at that, causing her to giggle. She knew that would work.

Slowly but surely the line moved along and eventually it came their turn to be fitted. Stepping up onto the stools, they held their arms out, allowing the seamstress witches to take their measurements. Shortly after, another boy came up and joined them on the stool to Hermione’s left.

Hermione had to do a double take when she saw him. Upon first glance she could have sworn that she was standing next to none other than Draco Malfoy, but then she remembered where she was. It definitely wasn’t Draco. With a bit of a better look at him, she noticed that his features were different. His face wasn’t as pointed as Draco’s and his eyes were bright blue rather than silver.

Though the hair was much the same. Just as perfectly well kept as the ferret. She had always hated how envious she was of that hair.

She had gotten so carried away thinking about Malfoy that she noticed too little too late that she had been caught staring at the boy. When she finally snapped out of it, she found him smirking at her with a smug little look on his face.

“My name is Abraxas, Abraxas Malfoy,” he said. “And you are?”

Abraxas Malfoy… The name sounded vaguely familiar, as if she might have heard it or read it somewhere before. Judging by the fact that he was a Malfoy, she could only guess that she had heard Draco mention him. She wasn’t exactly sure how the two were related though.

“I’m Hermione, and this is my friend, Tom,” she greeted him, motioning to Tom on her other side.

Tom acknowledged Abraxas with no more than a brief nod of the head, to which Abraxas responded by copying the gesture. They clearly didn’t care too much about each other.

What Abraxas did next was not at all what Hermione had been expecting. Reaching out, he took hold of her hand and pressed his lips gently to the top before winking at her. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She was at a loss for how to feel about this. A part of her couldn’t help but blush, for though she knew he came from a long line of pureblood supremacist prats which would likely continue for at least two more generations, he was rather handsome and was certainly treating her better than his descendants ever had. Yet, at the same time a part of her felt disgusted as it registered in her brain that he was only being nice to her because he thought she was like him.

“You as well,” she forced herself to smile at him, not wanting to appear impolite. Realistically, she had no reason to be impolite to him, because she wasn’t meant to know anything about who he was or what his world was like. They were simply two children who had just met for the first time.

They talked little after that as they finished up with their individual fittings. She managed to wave goodbye to him before Tom grabbed her by the hand and pulled her away, reversing the roles from earlier. He didn’t let go until they were well away from the shop.

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” Tom muttered.

She was floored by that. Could it be that Tom Riddle was jealous? The very idea sounded so ridiculous that she almost didn’t believe it. Then again, she supposed that it might not be all that ridiculous after all. He was very much human, capable of feeling different emotions, as he had proven to her in the last month or so that she had been with him. She couldn’t really fault him for being protective over the only real friend he had ever had.

“Don’t worry, Tom,” she assured him. “You’re not going to lose me that easily.”

He waved off her concern, but she saw the corners of his lips tugging up. There was no use hiding from her. It was clear that he was happy to hear that.

Their next stop was undoubtedly the highlight of the trip; getting their wands. Tom had gotten the same wand she knew him to have as Lord Voldemort. It was 13½ inches long, crafted of yew wood with a phoenix feather core. That wasn’t all that surprising to her.

What was surprising was the wand that had chosen her...

When she first walked into Ollivander’s, she had been expecting to get her old wand back. The very wand she had used for years had been placed into her hands, but for some strange reason, it just didn’t seem to connect with her like it had the first time around. She tried wand after wand after that and none of them seemed to have that spark.

Then, Ollivander finally pulled out yet another wand that she knew well. 11 inches long, crafted of holly wood with a phoenix feather core. It was also the exact same wand that would have belonged to Harry. She hadn’t meant to connect with it… It just happened…

“The wand chooses the witch, Miss Granger,” Ollivander had told her.

She was hesitant to take it at first, fearing that her doing so might somehow prevent Harry from being born, but relented in the end as she didn’t want to raise any suspicion from Tom or Ollivander. In the end, she was grateful to have Harry’s wand this time around as it would serve as a reminder of her brave old friend.

Tom was all too pleased that she had ended up with the sibling of his wand. 

Before long, they had finished the rest of their shopping, checking off every last item from their list. They knew that they ought to return to the orphanage soon, lest they miss supper, but neither of them were quite ready to leave yet and so they decided to just look around for a while longer. 

Hermione had to admit that it was actually quite nice having someone to experience the magic of Diagon Alley with. In the past, or rather the future, she always went with her parents, and while she loved them dearly, it just wasn’t the same. They didn’t understand the world of magic as she did. They found it all confusing and overwhelming. She was constantly having to explain everything to them. It was nice not having to explain everything for once.

“What’s down there?”

Noticing that Tom had stopped walking, she followed his gaze to see what it was that had caught his attention.

She had to shut her mouth tightly to stop herself from gasping. They were standing right in front of the entrance to Knockturn Alley. She should have known as much. How could she have been so stupid? Of course Knockturn Alley of all places would catch his attention!

“I don’t know, but it certainly doesn’t look like a nice place,” she said with a gulp. “I think we should get out of here.”

She started to walk away but was stopped as Tom reached out to pull her back.

“Honestly, Tom, I don’t think we should go in there.”

“Why not? It’s a part of Diagon Alley, isn’t it? Why would it be here if we weren’t allowed to go in?”

She had to admit that there was some logic behind that. Why did the wizarding world let Knockturn Alley exist if dark magic was against the law? Surely the ministry wasn't so blind? Perhaps it was the result of pureblood witches and wizards bribing the ministry to turn the other way? That definitely sounded like something the Malfoy’s would do.

She let out a sigh. There was no use trying to fight him on this. She knew that he would find a way to sneak down there no matter what she did or said. Still, it was her job to make sure that he didn’t go down the same path as before, and so it fell to her to follow him and make sure nothing happened. I suppose I can always stun him if things get out of hand, she thought.

“Alright,” she gave in, “we can see what’s down there.”

Knockturn Alley was just as creepy as she remembered with cobwebs in every corner and old hags selling severed fingers for a galleon a piece. There were all sorts of horrible shops down there dealing with everything with everything from necromancy to poisons. Though, to be fair, there were a few shops that weren’t quite so bad that dealt in everyday potion ingredients as well as cauldrons.

Then they found themselves standing before the worst shop of them all; Borgin and Burke’s. This was the shop that Tom would one day work at after graduating from Hogwarts. Not on my watch, he won’t, she vowed to herself. However, she knew that wouldn’t be happening for years and so she allowed herself to relax a bit.

Tom was just about to open the shop door when they heard a voice call out to them. “What are you two doing down here? Surely you know that this area is off limits to all first and second years.”

Stopping dead in their tracks, they turned and saw a man approaching. He looked rather like a vampire with long dark hair, pale skin and dark eyes. She wasn’t sure who he was but judging by the fancy robes he wore, she had to assume that he was someone of importance.

Whoever he was, she had a bad feeling about this...

“I’m sorry, sir, but this is our first time here and we got lost,” Tom explained. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t entirely true either.

The man raised a single arched brow at that. “Is that so? Well then, allow me to escort you back to safety.”

Leaving the two children with no time to object, he promptly turned and started back the way he had come, motioning for them to follow. Despite the heavy robes that looked as though they would slow him down, he was actually surprisingly fast and they had to break out into a run just to catch up with him.

He led them back to the steps that led back up to Diagon Alley, where he finally came to a halt and turned back to face them.

“I do not want to see the two of you down there ever again, do I make myself clear?” he asked them.

They nodded their heads in unison.

“Good,” he said with a sigh.

They started up the stairs, their legs moving as if someone was controlling them, and as she thought about it, she considered that perhaps that was indeed the case. Reaching the top step, she turned back to see if the man had his wand out or could be seen reciting an incantation, but he was already gone.

Who was that man? He had left without so much as telling them his name. What was he? He dressed like a wizard and yet there was something about him that indicated otherwise. And why did she get the feeling that he had just saved them from something horrible?

“Can we leave now?” she asked.

This time, Tom agreed without hesitance. He looked just as confused and startled as she was.

[that-homoerotic-blouse]

Mementos

Pairing: Ten x Rose

Rated: T

Wordcount: 2080

Summary: post Doomsday, of places and things lost

For the prompt ‘family’ of @timepetalsweek

***

Jackie took the ripped envelope with reverent hands.

It didn’t make sense, not really. How time passed in this world. Sometimes, of course, she wouldn’t even notice, because calendars here still had twelve months and clocks an hour hand and a minute hand; others, however, she woke up thinking about the ludicrous hole a killer Christmas tree had left in her bedroom and just how expensive fixing it was going to be, only to find herself in a four-poster bed with silk sheets in a room like the bedchamber of Henry VIII, and everything around her crumbled. Those days were the hardest. Those days, she could feel the past like it was around the corner, just at the end of her fingertips—Rose, you came back! Oh, and you, big fella! You’re all mine!—and at the same time distant, remote and non-existent, fading in the way dreams fade the moment you blink awake.

Those days, Jackie thought, she was one step closer to understand her daughter. Because, despite the weeks and the months, she still catches the haunted looks, never misses the blank stares. Because it was just yesterday that she was holding her trembling body in a beach in Norway, and yet it wasn’t. It had been one year and a half. In those moments, Jackie was sure that there was something terribly wrong about the way the cogs turned in this world.

She’d thought she’d like it.

What a silly idea that seemed now.  

She shakes the envelope and the paper falls soundless as a feather.

There is only one picture. She had been dismayed when she found out, but Mickey told her that the rest of the files were corrupted and that there was nothing else he could do. Bless him. Those old mobiles had never been too reliable, anyway.

They were smiling.

Why, of course they were smiling, it was the only thing they seemed to be able to do around each other. Her with the dimples on her cheeks, and him with that barmy face and those barmy eyebrows. She didn’t know when it had become their trademark, only that it had.

They were pointing at something outside of the frame, their raised arms cut by the elbow. It must have been something incredible, no doubt, for their eyes were wide and shining. Inexplicably, they both wore two pairs of sunglasses, maintaining an precarious balance at the top of their heads, but they were too lost in whatever it was that had caught their attention to care. The quality of the image is fuzzy and the background is a blur of grey and blue. They could’ve been in Spain or in a moon colony lightyears away from Earth, and she wouldn’t be able to tell. Their expression is one of sheer wonder, and she thinks that’s how they should’ve looked, forever.

Forever wondering, forever marvelling.  

And she had once been so worried—worried that she’d lose herself, that on every ship and planet and asteroid she visited, she’d leave a piece of herself behind until there was nothing left. It couldn’t have been further from the truth: her daughter, she realized, had found herself among the stars, and she had soared. And for some reason, this realization brings a pain to her chest greater than any other. And she regrets, regrets, regrets, regrets, regrets, regrets so deeply she can feel her guts turn inside out.

And it only gets worse, because every day she sees her, and she’s trying so hard to build, she’s trying so hard to create and not destroy. To leave a mark, to carve a niche of her own, fit in the spaces between offices and parties and rooms twice the size of their flat. But it’s like Rose always tells her: “I was never born here. There isn’t a hole with my outline. If I want a place for myself, I have to start from scratch.”

Jackie can feel her hands shaking.

She doesn’t know when her daughter became so wise.

Indeed, it is those gaps. It’s those gaps she feels when she wakes up in a bed that’s not hers, with a husband that might look like hers, but he’s alive and well and no longer a ghost. It’s terrifying.

They had left a hole with their outline when they left, and Jackie wonders what it might look like. An empty council flat. With her cheap furniture, a desolate fridge and a broken washing machine. With a tiny bathroom with bad lighting and a crooked mirror. With two bedrooms cluttered with years and years of trinkets and keepsakes that would no longer hold any meaning whatsoever: Christmas postcards and old blankets and earrings and dirty clothes and a bronze medal and magnets of places they never visited.

Of all that, would remain nothing.

But in her mind, as she envisions it, to her surprise she realizes that the house isn’t empty. Not completely. She imagines a shadow, a lonely figure in a long coat, standing in the middle of it all like a salt statue.

She wonders if he will mourn them for long.

And hopes that he will.

Because, as she holds the picture in her hands, she thinks of paper crowns and garlands and laughter and ash instead of snow, and she too, mourns.

***

Someone stands still on Walworth Road and the Earth keeps turning.

The burden had been his to bear.

And that was okay.

It’s always been like this.

Every person he meets leaves a load when they part ways—a bundle of memories, of good times and bad times and a little bit of this, and oh, also a little bit of that—and he carries it gladly. Sometimes with sorrow, and pain, but always gladly. It’s the least he can do. It’s his duty. Or something like it, anyway. The word is too formal and too pompous and he doesn’t like how it sounds in any case.

But it wasn’t a sense of obligation that drove him here. Not because he felt that he had to, or that he owed them (even though he owes them, so much), but because he feels if he doesn’t honour what’s left of them, he doubts that anyone else will. And he can let the world forget—because humanity always forgets, humanity always moves on—their names and their faces and the footprints they left along their path, but he won’t.

So he steps into the flat.

For some reason, he didn’t think there’d be silence. This was never a place for silence; for chatter and laughter, always; for quiet, sometimes; but never for this sheer blankness, this void of sound. Now, however, there is so much of it he’s afraid the flat will burst. He could quantify it, estimate it, calibrate its exact weight and mass, because this silence is something tangible, something that looms and lurks and creeps onto your back. There’s something about it that unnerves this body. This silence makes his nerves itch and tingle and he wants to flee like a scared animal.

But he can’t bring himself to break it.

The TARDIS waits in the children’s playground, because parking it on the front room felt irreverent, and because Jackie always complained about the marks the old ship left on the carpet. Now he’s three floors up, foldaway cardboard boxes under his arm, and he’s crossed the threshold and it’s silent. It takes eight tentative steps, twenty-seven feet and 6.3 inches, and he’s in the living room. He can see the kitchen from his vantage point: the tap dripping every 0.9 seconds and the dirty dishes still in the sink and a mug on the table and everything is so there and it looks so very much the same that it aches. And suddenly it seems like the air turns liquid and dense and the Doctor freezes.

It’s like a snow globe.

It dawns on him that he doesn’t want to touch anything, that he’d rather die before moving a frame or a chair an inch from their current resting place. He wants to keep it this way, forever; preserve an ordinary, utterly unimportant empty council flat against the ravages of time, uncorrupted and uncorruptible. Nothing more and nothing less than a home, lived-in and worn-out, with specks of dust dancing against the sunlight and a half-finished cuppa still waiting for its owner to return. To come back.

He thinks he might wait, too.

He drops the cardboard boxes, and it isn’t until then that he notices.

Beside a too-familiar rucksack, there is a square plastic box. A disposable camera. The classic FujiFilm.

Attached to it, a pink sticky note.

Develop.

Once, it might have been a trivial reminder, just one among the many things in a to-do list, but now it feels more like a dying wish. Unfulfilled.  

He doesn’t think it twice.

He’s sprinting down the stairs before he can register that his body is moving at a disproportionate speed, the odds of missing a step and breaking his spine increasing exponentially.

There’s never been a dark room in the TARDIS, and it occurs to him that he should build one, one day. Why didn’t the TARDIS have a dark room? The TARDIS most definitely should have a dark room. That way, at least, he’d save the sidelong glances and the startled faces. Oh. Barging in again, aren’t we, Doctor?

It’s one of those little street shops, wedged and squeezed, fighting for space between a Tesco and an ATM, where you can have your photos printed in an hour and a puzzle or a keychain made with your face on it. Genius. At the counter were two employees with name tags attached to their breast pockets, and they both looked like they were about to ask him to leave. But he’s quick to slam the camera on the counter and rummage his pockets until he finds the right currency, and suddenly their faces turn bright and trustworthy.

So he waits—one hour, as the advert says—and the soles of his chucks punctuate the passing of each second.

When they give him the envelope, he stumbles back onto the street and rips it open.

The crowds pass him by, but he’s glued to the sidewalk from head to toe.

Out of the whole roll of film, there are only three photos. The first one is a table, the tablecloth faded at the edges and with a couple of burst seams, laid out with all sorts of foods—almost too much food—looking like an impromptu banquet, messy and exaggerated and inviting, and he knows exactly when it was taken.

He can’t say the same about the second one.

It’s the cracker they pulled, on a Christmas Eve that was both the first and the last. It was all glitter on the outside until it popped with a short loud bang. The paper crown had been pink and it had matched his, and she had been elated. Halfway through dinner, the telly had blared a season classic and they had tried to dance, tumbling ridiculously as to avoid the chairs and the sofa and oh, careful there, that’s the china figurine cousin Mo brought from Belgium! They had gotten tangled with the tinsel in the process, but her grin had been as wide as her cheeks stretched. Only now, he realizes, that he had been grinning too. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t remember the click of the camera, or Jackie fussing about saying cheese!

He has no clue when this moment happened, only that it came and it was gone in the blink of an eye.

And then the Doctor is left alone, standing still on Walworth Road, and his face is lined with tears.

He only catches a brief glimpse of the third photograph before he shoves the envelope into his coat pocket. It was dark, barely an outline, of two figures pointing at the sky.

I spent Christmas day just over there, at the Powell Estate, with this... family. My friend, she had this family. Well. It was my…

Bringing his hands to his face, he pushes his palms against the globes of his eyes until patterns emerge under the pressure, but no matter how hard he tries the tears keep falling.

The Doctor stands still and the crowds pass him by.

The Earth keeps turning.

An the burden, this time, is too heavy to bear.

***

Read in Ao3

[madpanda75]

“Taking Chances Part Two: The Kiss”

Rafael realizes who the reader is related to and emotions are acted on 😱! Check out Part One on my Masterlist. 

Thanks for all the amazing feedback. You guys are the best! ❤️

Rafael sat in his usual seat at Forlini’s bar, drinking a glass of scotch. It had been three weeks since he had first met you. Since then Rafael had visited the gallery almost on a daily basis, always under the facade of looking at a new piece of art when in reality it was to see you. The only problem was Rafael had seen every piece of art several times and he was beginning to run out of excuses to stop by the gallery after work or during lunch.

But did he really need an excuse? Judging by the way your cheeks turned bright pink and the coy smile you gave him when he walked through the door, Rafael suspected the feelings he had for you were mutual. Except what did he know? He had been out of the loop when it came to flirting, relationships, and dating for far too long. Maybe you always behaved that way with clients when you wanted to make a sale, laying on the charm with older men. Still there was something about you that was genuine. Being with you, Rafael didn’t feel the need to have his guard up. He felt safe.

Finishing up the rest of his drink, Rafael ordered another all while racking his brain for a reason to visit you. Perhaps he left a glove at the gallery? That was when he heard your voice calling his name. He turned his head to find you standing at the bar with those pink cheeks and a smile that made his pulse quicken.

*****  

You leapt across a patch of black ice, nearly falling in the middle of the bustling street. The weather man had predicted snow that day. A throng of people surrounded you, anxious to get home and away from the cold. You shivered within your coat, quickening your steps. Forlini’s was just on the next block. You had promised to meet your brother, Sonny, there after work and as usual you were late. While stopped at the crosswalk, you felt your phone buzzing in your coat pocket.

You answered it, already knowing who it was. “Hey, Sonny. I’m sorry. I know I’m late but I swear this time it wasn’t my fault. My boss made me stay past closing to make sure the new art installation was set up.”

“Actually, Y/N. I called to tell you I can’t make it,” Sonny sheepishly replied. He hated letting you down.

“Dominick Carisi Jr., I just walked 15 blocks in the freezing cold because you insisted on meeting tonight and now you’re ditching me!?” You exclaimed.

“I’m sorry. I was busy working on a case and I completely forgot this term paper I have to write tonight on capital punishment.”

“Cheerful topic,” you dryly said, now standing outside Forlini’s. “You owe me. How about basketball this Saturday at the park near my place. Loser has to buy the winner a box of cannolis from Antonio’s.”

“Unbelievable, it’s snowing and you still want to play basketball!?”

“A little snow is not gonna stop me from beating you. So what do you say? 10 at the basketball court?”

“Fine, I’ll bring coffee,” Sonny grumbled, knowing he would give into your every whim. You had your brother wrapped around your little finger.

“Did I ever tell you that you're my favorite big brother?” You teased.

Sonny laughed. “I’m your only big brother. Love ya’, sis.”

“Love you too.” You hung up the phone and went into the restaurant. You were already there might as well have a drink and warm up.

Walking over to the bar, you froze in your tracks. There was Rafael. Immediately butterflies began fluttering in your stomach. His back was to you, nursing a drink, occasionally glancing up at the TV screen behind the bar. The man hadn’t even glanced your way and already you were a wreck.

It had been a while since you had felt this way about anyone. 18 months to be exact when you came home early to find your fiancé in bed with another woman. After that you had sworn off love. You were devastated, your heart all but ripped out of your chest and thrown into a blender. Being alone was easier and less painful but meeting Rafael changed that. There was something about him that made you come alive again. That made you believe that not every man was a misogynist, cheating pig.

So rather than run out, pretending you never saw him, you cleared your throat and stepped closer. “Rafael?” Rafael set down his drink and whipped his head around, meeting your gaze. Those green eyes seemed to pierce right through your soul. You were beginning to experience borderline dangerous heart palpitations. “Mind if I sit here?”

“No, please,” he replied, motioning to the chair next to him. You shrugged off your coat and sat down, ordering a glass of merlot from the bartender. “So what brings you here? Kind of out of the way from your gallery.”

“I was supposed to meet my brother but he ditched me. I can’t really blame him. He’s a detective with the NYPD and going to school at the same time.” You shrugged and took a sip of your wine. “He’s pretty busy these days.”

“That is a lot to take on.” Rafael said, eying you almost suspiciously. Your brother sounded a lot like a certain gangly, obnoxious, blue-eyed detective he knew. But there was no way you were related to Sonny. The NYPD was one of the largest police departments in the country. Surely there were other detectives who happened to be attending school at the same time. It was just a strange coincidence. “I’m an Assistant District Attorney with Special Victims Unit so I work a lot with the NYPD.”

“Then you must know my brother! Dominick Carisi, but everyone calls him Sonny.”

Rafael choked on his scotch, his worst thoughts now confirmed. “Carisi is your brother?”

You arched a brow, watching Rafael cough and sputter for several seconds. “I take it you know him.”

“You could say that.” Rafael’s eyes widened. Amazing. Out of all the people to have a crush on he had to pick a Carisi. There was no way he could pursue you now. He downed his drink and quickly ordered another. Studying your face for a moment, he tried to find any family resemblance. Perhaps there was a faint trace of a Staten Island accent when you spoke but that was it. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect you to say Carisi was your brother. You two don’t look anything alike.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you teased, but your heart fell. You liked Rafael and the last thing you needed was your big brother getting in the way. “Can we change the subject? I’m sitting at a swanky bar next to a handsome man and the last thing I want to talk about is my brother.”

A smile tugged at Rafael’s lips. “You think I’m handsome.”

“Actually I was talking about the other guy,” you said, motioning to the man sitting next to you on your left side. Rafael peered over your shoulder to see Judge Nelson, drinking a beer and munching on pretzels while watching a basketball game on the TV. Bits of crumbs flying over the counter as he called out the coach for pulling a player. Judge Nelson also bore a striking resemblance to the crypt keeper.

Rafael snorted a laugh, starting to feel a little more at ease now that the initial shock was wearing off.  

“Okay, Rafael. You know where I work and who my family is, so now I want to know about you.” You giggled and set your drink down, turning your chair to give him your full attention. “Tell me everything.”

*****

Now knowing who you were related to Rafael tried to resist temptation, quickly realizing it was a losing battle. You were his version of kryptonite, glancing up at him from beneath your lashes while innocently biting your bottom lip, your leg brushing up against his. A man could only take so much. It didn’t take long before Rafael found himself flirting right back.

You completely lost track of time talking to Rafael. The conversation flowed between you both. You told him how after your father’s heart attack, you realized that life was too short and decided to switch from a business administration major to an art history degree. He told you that he briefly considered a career in theater before ultimately deciding that the law was his passion.

The hours flew by and before long the bar was closing. “I can’t believe it’s so late,” you said, hopping off the chair. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

“My pleasure. I had fun tonight.” Rafael held out your coat for you to put on. You silently cursed the cold, wishing you didn’t have on so many layers so you could feel the warmth of his bare hands on your body.

By the time you left, snow was beginning to cover the streets and sidewalks, showing no signs of stopping. “Which way are you going?” You asked.

“Uptown. You?”

“Same. I was gonna take the subway home.”

Rafael rocked back on his heels. “Well since we’re going the same direction. We could split an Uber or a taxi or something,” he suggested.

“Sure. As long as it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” Rafael replied, taking out his phone to get an Uber. He wasn’t quite ready to say good night to you just yet, even if it was just a 15 minute car ride home.

*****

The drive uptown was mostly in silence. Rafael glanced down at your hands resting in the middle seat between you both, inches away from each other. He slowly moved his hand closer, his pinky finger barely brushing up against yours. Turning from the window, you locked eyes with him, a soft smile on your lips as you placed your hand in his.

Suddenly the driver came to an abrupt stop, pulling up to the front of your apartment building. Rafael stepped out of the car, insisting on walking you to your door. “Wait for me, please. I‘ll be right back,” he told the Uber driver. The man nodded his head, grumbling that the wait time would be added to the fare.

The heavy wet snow made the sidewalks slick. One misstep on an icy patch and you were about to make a slapstick tumble. Rafael was quick to react, catching you in his arms before you hit the ground.

You looked up into the eyes of your rescuer and blushed. Rafael’s pulse was racing. His face so close to yours, he could count the snowflakes landing on your cheeks. Once you found your footing, he reluctantly let you go. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine. Nice catch,” you said but your feet had other plans. You tried to take another step and ended up sliding even closer to Rafael, gripping onto the lapels of his jacket to steady yourself.

The heady scent of his cologne stirred your senses. He smelled like citrus and spice, woodsy and crisp. Like the type of man who would read Tolstoy to you and then later fuck you up against his cedar desk. He electrified you. Reaching up with one hand, you cupped his cheek before placing a soft tentative kiss on his lips. You pulled away a fraction of an inch, gauging his reaction.

Rafael stared at you with lust-filled eyes. Your warm breath mingling with his in the frosty air. His nose nuzzling yours. “Oh God, what was he doing,” he thought. “This is Carisi’s sister. Don’t do this. You can’t do this.”

“Rafael,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers running through his hair.

“Fuck it,” he said in a husky voice, pulling you into a searing hot kiss. Rafael’s mouth moved fervently over yours, his tongue gently parting the seam of your lips. You tasted better than he could ever imagine, sweet and tart. You let out a soft, pleasure-filled moan, returning the kiss with vigor, sliding your tongue over his. Rafael ran his hands up and down your back, holding you close. Despite the frigid temperature, a warmth spread throughout your body, radiating through every vein. Your lungs were burning.  It felt like you were going to explode.

Needing to catch your breath, you eventually broke the kiss. Slowly you opened your eyes, meeting Rafael’s gaze, both of you panting hard. He smiled at you, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “Would you like to have to have dinner with me sometime?”

You leaned forward, kissing him one more time, your forehead pressed against his. “Yes,” you softly replied.

@glimmerglittergirl @southern-magnolia @sweetcannolicarisi @delia26 @obfuscateyummy @sass-and-suspenders @eclecticminded @thatesqcrush @katmstanton @amirightcounsellor @beltzboys2015-blog @letty-o @sonnysdoll @lyssa1385 @sweetsummertime99 @burningsorr0ws @gibbs274 @izzythefanfreak @riodallas @babypink224221 @livxrafa @esparza-army @obsessionprofessional @ottosuricato @melsquared79 @dreila03 @frenchiefoxy @tropes-and-tales @thecraziestcrayon @goodluckfindingone @graniairish @lolacolaempath @ashley-chi​ @imjustreallynosy​

[drizzitwrites]

New Fic: “Must Have Done Something Right” Opening Scene (Draft) -- Dragon Age: Inquisition

Hi all,

Switching fandoms (back to my OG fandom, Dragon Age) since I’ve finally broken down and begun playing Inquisition (which I bought on the release day and then promptly got hipster angry at for 6 years). I still wasn’t sold at first and I DEFINITELY don’t love the companions as much as I did in any of the other games. UNTIL........ I met Dorian Pavus. Who I love. Deeply.

So... one day I was playing and I made an offhand comment quoting a song lyric because Dorian set my m!Lavellan Inquisitor up for a combo and then Jonas said “we should not!fic a thing where they’re on a university sports team” and then my brain grabbed hold of it and needed to almost obsessively think about it over the next two weeks.

Aaaaand, now I’ve actually started writing. This should be interesting, because I can SEE the scenes so clearly in my mind, so I may either fly through this and write it in a month in a frenzied fit of pique OR I may agonise over it because the words aren’t bringing out the picture in my head right. Either way, this one’s going to be long (and considering I’m someone who usually says “I think I can get that done in 5k” and then it takes 25k, this almost certainly means we’re going to hit novel length at least) and I have VERY LITTLE TIME, so don’t expect the finished product any time soon. I might release it chapter by chapter, but I generally don’t in case something comes up in a later chapter that affects the early chapters, because you never know when you need to re-order something or change details or add in something and I don’t want to have to deal with telling people I re-posted and having them go back to read it.

But! For anyone who might want to read it piece-by-piece with the understanding that what I’m posting here is edited and postable (by my standards) but is very much subject to change as the fic writing unfolds, I’ll post some to all of the scenes here. Read or don’t. At your leisure.

Also... I’m using this as an informal beta reading session, since Jonas is really good with big picture concept stuff, but terrible at anything having to do with emotions or the conveyance thereof AND is absolutely not here for even thinking about anything that’s higher than teen rated, and because I’ve been out of the fandom for so long that most to all of my former Dragon Age beta readers have left fandom and my new beta readers aren’t at all in the fandom. So... comments, thoughts, wording changes, spelling and grammar corrections, etc. welcome.

So, without any further ado, I present to you:

Dragon Age: Inquisition - Must Have Done Something Right Dorian Pavus/M!Lavellan Modern Day University AU Chapter 1, Scene 1

As Dorian lay sprawled on his backside on a New Jersey street corner, he couldn't help but wonder which of the monumentally stupid decisions he'd made over the past year and a half had led him to this moment. It could, he allowed, be all of them. In fact, it was very probably all of them. He would have dwelled on this longer, digging deep and trying to pinpoint the exact moment everything in his life had gone to shit, but right now he had more pressing matters to focus on, such as the bruise he could already feel forming on his backside, the frigid water seeping in through the legs of his trousers and down the sides of his shoes, and how the fuck, exactly, he was supposed to get home.

The skies had been clear and blue, with no signs of an impending storm when he'd headed to work that morning. Around mid-afternoon, clients had begun to rush through the door, blowing on their hands, brushing a few stray snowflakes from their shoulders, and commenting on the turn the weather had taken. By the time Dorian finished his shift at seven p.m. he'd stepped through the door into a full on New England blizzard.

He wasn't dressed for it, of course. He'd grabbed an overcoat and gloves on the way out the door, but hadn’t given a second thought to his footwear. Even he wasn't vain enough to wear his second best pair of oxfords if he was expecting snow. For one thing, they didn't deserve to be subjected to the thorough dousing of salt water they were certain to receive. For another, the smooth leather outsoles gave him approximately negative amounts of traction when trying to walk on ice.

Which brought him to here. He'd attempted the drive home on his Vespa, figuring it would be better than attempting to walk home. And it had been, he supposed, until he'd come over the crest of a hill, his back wheel had hit a patch of ice, and the entire bike had tried to kick out from under him. He'd saved it, just, and managed to navigate to the bottom of the hill where a wide expanse of sidewalk allowed him to pull off the road and park. He'd eased the bike as far out of the way as he could, put it in park, and dismounted.

And promptly fell on his ass.

He'd attempted to right himself, which had only led to an embarrassing scramble of feet against ice, legs kicking every which way, until he conceded that, for now, the ground had squarely defeated him, and let himself slide down to rest against the side of his bike.

“Need a hand?” A soft voice asked from above.

Dorian opened his eyes to see a man standing there, one gloved hand extended in his direction. As he stared up through the snow and the floodlights from the nearby building, Dorian couldn't make out any of the man’s facial features beyond impeccably combed dark hair, which glinted with red in the light. The man was well-dressed, however, albeit more sensibly than Dorian given the weather conditions, with a wool muffler tucked neatly into the collar of a knee-length overcoat, his feet clad in ankle-high fleece-lined boots.

The man said nothing, but remained there, arm outstretched, until Dorian managed a quick nod of thanks, took the proffered hand, and tried to lever himself to his feet while the other man pulled. He was surprisingly strong, Dorian noted, especially given his stature, which was good, because he ended up doing most of the work in the exchange while Dorian attempted to use the seat of his bike for leverage, his feet continuing to scrabble for purchase on the ground with every movement.

“Thank you,” Dorian said, dropping his free left hand down to grip the right handlebar of his scooter for balance.

“Don't thank me too much,” the man said. “I did stand by and watch the whole thing happen until I saw you give up and slump down in the snow. Decided I better intervene rather than leaving you out here all night.” He shifted his grip to twist it around into a tight handshake. “Name's Krem, by the way.”

“Dorian. And now I suppose I should thank you double for deciding not to leave me here.”

Not that I have a lot of reason for getting up and going about my life, he didn’t add.

Krem nodded, one corner of his mouth flicking up into the hint of a half smile. “You gonna be alright if I let go now?”

“What?” Dorian asked, then tracked Krem’s gaze to their still joined hands. “Oh… yes. Or… probably, it’s all relative, isn’t it? I mean, I’m not entirely sure how I'm getting home from here, and I hate to leave my bike parked out all night, especially in the snow, but… at least I’m standing. For now.”

“Never know. Snow might stop soon. I'm meeting a friend at a café just down the street. You're welcome to join me. It's warm and dry. Usually. You can buy me a coffee as a thank you. You look like you could use one.”

As a rule, Dorian despised coffee that wasn't prepared to his exacting standards with the proper equipment and techniques, but he was willing to concede that ‘usually warm and dry’ was a better option than laying in the snow on a street corner thinking of all the good reasons he had for staying there and freezing to death. Probably.

“In truth, I could use something a good deal stronger than coffee,” Dorian replied with a wry laugh. “Several somethings, in fact. Possibly a whole bottle of somethings. But alright. Coffee it is. Lead the way.”

[mikkomacko]

The True Encounter IX

Dedicated to bean™️ for keeping me company while I was sick and had writers block x

~

t's far to early for Harry's liking when he's woken up by the familiar ringtone of y/n's phone.

By the time he gets his puffy eyes open, she's twisted away from him and digging under the pillows for her phone.

"Whosit?" Harry slurs, removing his arm from around her waist to rub at his eyes.

"Hi mom." Y/n greets, phone pressed to her ear and voice sweet but sleepy. She falls back into his chest, snuggling her cheek over his heart.

Harry hears a indistinct answer, too tired to focus on the voice in attempt to hear y/n's mother answer. Hand falling back to her waist, Harry pulls her in tighter, eyes falling shut.

"I think that would work." Y/n replies, humming into Harry's skin when he softly squeezes her hip. "I just have to check with Harry."

Harry peaks an eyes open at her, watching her softly nod as her mother speaks through the phone. She's got her eyes shut, dark eyelashes resting on her pale cheekbones.

"I'll let you know by Wednesday." Y/n says around a yawn, her breath leaving Harry's chest feeling sticky. He slides his palm up her spine and over her shoulder, raking his fingers through her frizzy hair.

"Love you too." Y/n smiles, free hand cupping Harry's elbow as he continues to tame her wild locks. She hums another agreement and then she's hanging up, stuffing the phone back underneath the pillows.

"What did ya mum want?" Harry mumbles, scooping his fingers under her ear and behind her head, massaging her scalp.

"She wants us to go stay with her next weekend." Y/n offers, shyly smiling. She opens her eyes to gauge Harry's reaction, heart racing with excitement when she sees him smiling.

"Tha' sounds lovely."

~

Harry's fingers are cold against the bridge of y/n's nose, his palms cupped over her eyes to prevent her from seeing where he's taking her.

He's pressed firm against her back, chin resting on her shoulder and chuckling into her ear when she stumbles on the sidewalk or in the elevator.

Y/n's already figured out that they're in the Pack House, it's the only building big enough for an elevator.

And she knows as soon as they step off the elevator that Harry's brought her to the hospital for some reason. She can smell the bleach and hand sanitizer and hear heart monitors.

"Why are we at the hospital?" Y/n questions. If it weren't for Harry's constant giggling, she'd be a bit worried about him dragging her to a hospital of all places.

"How'd you know we were here?" Harry scoffs, accidentally kicking the back of y/n's ankle. He kisses her cheek as an apology.

"It smells like one and I can hear heart monitors." Y/n laughs. Harry grumbles something and instructs her to hold out her arms. He guides her through pushing open an door and when they step into the new room everything is silent.

"Ready?" Harry grins, bouncing on the balls of his feet. She nods, laughing at how excited Harry is and then he's removing his hands, bright lights burning her eyes for a moment.

She squints into the lights, blinking until a window comes into view. On the other side is another room, workers bustling about in scrubs. But instead of working on patients or sitting at a receptionists desk, they're all taking care of children.

Some toddlers, running around on chubby legs in puffy diapers. Others babies, crawling around in onesies with drool stained chins. The cutest part of all are the babies that are running around as wolves.

Tiny pups, flopping around the floors, chasing tails or sleeping curled up in balls of fluff. To any outsider they would appear to just be little puppies, waiting to be adopted and loved but y/n knows that these are the kids of Harry's pack.

He's brought her to the daycare center.

"They're adorable." Y/n coos, cupping her mouth when one of the pups that's bouncing around trips on it's own paws.

"Yeah?" Harry ponders, hand smoothing over her hip and giving her a dimply smile. She nods, turning to look at Harry.

He's beaming at her with such endearment she could cry. She snakes her arms around his neck, tugging him down to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

"What'd ya bring me here for?"

"Are yeh complainin?" Harry teases, lips still stuck to hers.

"Never." Y/n replies instantly, turning away from him to look back through the window at all the kids. Her cheek falls against his shoulder, his hand caressing the back of her head as they gaze through the window.

"Gem told me yeh asked about wolf babies." Harry speaks up, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. Y/n's stomach twists with nerves at the tone of his voice. He doesn't sound upset or accusing but there's something different. He's using that innocent edge like he's trying to convince her of something.

Y/n clears her throat, keeping her voice casual. "I was just curious." She shrugs.

Harry hums, sounding a bit disappointed but still sponges his lips across her forehead. One of these days he won't have to ask her questions about the future, he'll be able to read it off her. When that day is, he's afraid he'll never know.

~

"Yeh should have let me drive." Harry grumbles, changing the song on the radio yet again. He's got the passenger seat pushed as far back as possible, his long sweatpants covered legs stretched out and shoes tossed carelessly in the backseat.

Y/n rolls her eyes, glancing at his pouty lips and sleepy eyes. She reaches over, patting at his curls that have just been freed from the beanie he was wearing earlier.

"You don't know where you're driving to." She reasons, letting him grab ahold of her hand and bring it to his lap.

"S'why you give me instructions." Harry cradles her hand in his left one, stroking his right pointer finger up and down her palm.

"You can't even handle sitting there!" Y/n laughs, switching into the right lane of the highway. "How are you supposed to drive?"

"I can drive!" Harry huffs angrily, kicking his feet up onto the dash. Y/n notices he's wearing her socks and that he's completely stretched them out.

The furthest Harry has traveled, that he can remember, was a two hour trip to the coast so him and Gemma could see the beach when he was 9. He told y/n that he had fun, that he loved riding in the car.

But an hour into their trip he was fidgety, switching positions every five seconds and digging through y/n's bag for gum even though she told him she didn't have any.

When he couldn't find any, she was forced to stop at a gas station and let him get some, which he happily stuffed half the pack into his mouth. After fifteen minutes of chewing, he was passed out and woke up an hour later with it stuck in his hair

"If you were driving than that would mean I'd have to have gum stuck in my hair." Y/n reasons, knowing Harry would rather be suffering than her. He doesn't say anything but y/n can still see him pouting, reaching up to try and detangle his hair yet again.

The next exit comes into view making y/n sigh in relief. "Look love," She soothes, exiting off the highway and towards the gas station. "I'll get the gum out and get you a snack and then we've only got another hour on the road."

Harry perks up at that, releasing her hand so she can climb out of the car. "Be right back." She smiles, dashing inside. She returns five minutes later with a plastic bag and a small bag of ice.

Harry unlocks his door, letting her pull it open. She places the plastic bag at his feet and digs out a piece of ice. "Will you get the little brush out of my bag?" Y/n asks, reaching for the knot of hair that's stuck the gum.

Harry reaches into the backseat for her bag and pulls out the brush he had found earlier. Y/n holds the ice to his hair, softly rubbing at it to let the frozen pieces break away.

Despite his pouting and his loathing for riding in the car, he watches her take care of him, feeling his heart swell in his chest. She's so soft about brushing out his hair, careful not to pull on it too hard. And the whole time she's constantly giving him big doe eyes and a gentle smile, kissing the corner of his lips when she has to tug on his hair.

Once all the gum is out and Harry's got his bag of Cheetos in his lap he can't help but smile at her. She reaches over to stroke his cheek but frowns when she feels how warm they are.

"Are you feeling okay H?" She asks, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. It's even warmer than his cheeks. Harry nods, frowning when she digs through her bag again.

"What's tha'?" Harry grumbles when she hands him two small pills.

"It'll take care of your fever, bub." Y/n explains, forcing them into his hands. Harry takes them, feeling anxious under her watchful eye. He wants to crawl over the center console and lay in her lap.

Y/n grabs him a blanket and pillow, letting him rest his head against the window and tucking him under her blanket that he loves. "You want Apples?" She questions, stroking his hair back lovingly. Harry feels so content he's thinking about changing his grass rolling spot to this exact seat of her car.

"Yes please." He sniffles. Y/n finds her stuffed black dog he's adopted (and named) and tucks it under the blanket with him.

Harry waits until their back on the highway, eyes and body heavy with sleep before telling her what's been on his mind all week.

"Yeh'd make an excellent mum pet."

~

Harry wakes up to y/n tickling her fingertips over his jawline, car parked and shut off in front of a small two story house. As if out of a movie it's surrounded by a white picket fence and a yard of green grass and rose bushes. The porch attached to the front sports multiple bird feeders and wind chimes.

"You feeling okay?" Y/n asks him, still softly stroking his face. Her fingers falter when Harry nods but continue their soothing motions once he's stopped.

In all honesty his stomach is twisted with nausea and he's sweating enough to make his shirt feel sticky, something he doesn't usually do unless he's just had a hard work out.

Blaming these feelings as meeting-the-parents nerves Harry ignores it, unbuckling his seat belt. By the time he's got his shoes back on and y/n's blanket folded up, her parents have emerged from the house.

Y/n grins, waving at them through the windshield and climbing out of the car. Harry's stuffing as much stuff as possible into y/n's bag when the back door opens.

Harry hurries out, throwing her bag over his shoulder and rushing around the door to help her grab her other bag.

"I can get it Harry." Y/n giggles but Harry just shrugs, grabbing his duffle bag as well.

"Don't forget Apples, love." Harry murmurs in her ear, hoping her parents didn't hear him. He doesn't want them thinking he can't take care of her because he's some sissy that sleeps with a stuffie. His dad's would be rolling in his grave if he knew Harry had even named the stupid thing.

Y/n smiles bemusedly, gathering up their pillows and the blanket, double checking to make sure she grabbed Bana and Apples.

As soon as Harry comes face to face with y/n's mother she's lighting up, face splitting into an ear reaching grin.

"You must be Harry!" She exclaims, coming at Harry with open arms. Harry smiles, doing his best to hug her back with all the bags on his shoulders. "I'm y/n's mother, Christy!"

"Lovely to meet yeh." Harry says politely, squeezing her hands that have wrapped around his. She coos at him, hand reaching up to clutch at her heart.

"Such a sweetheart." She dotes, letting go of him and reaching behind her to tug y/n's father forward. "This is my husband George."

George gives him a closed lip smile, shaking Harry's hand. "Nice to meet you son." He says gruffly.

"You as well." Harry nods. Y/n laughs, shooing her parents up the porch steps, muttering about them letting Harry at least put the bags down first.

She leads Harry up the stairs in the living room, leaving her parents down there as they go to her childhood bedroom. Y/n throws the blankets and pillows onto the neatly made bed as Harry dumps the bags onto the floor.

"They're a bit overwhelming huh?" She cringes, stepping over a bag to press herself into his chest.

"They're nice." Harry assures, wrapping her up in his arms. "Ya mum is really excited, yeah?" He chuckles as she pouts.

"She just couldn't wait to meet you."

"Can yeh blame her?" Harry teases, smirking. "I'mma proper catch aren't I?"

"When you're not crying in the car you are." Y/n says innocently, pecking his nose with a chaste kiss.

Harry smiles, knowing she's teasing but it still makes his stomach twist and his heart thump hollowly.

~

Harry's sitting a foot away from y/n at dinner when he realizes that he misses her. The ache in his chest to just pull her into his lap and lay kiss after kiss on her cheeks and chin and nose and forehead is almost unbearable.

He's listening to her mother tell a story of y/n taking care of one of her baby cousins, smiling at her as she shyly giggles, cheeks blushing pink.

He can't help himself, he leans over and kisses her cheek, squeezing her hand in his. It dulls the ache but as soon as he's pulling away, settling back into his seat it returns.

Something is definitely not right with Harry and his wolf.

~

It wasn't hard to notice that Harry was acting different. He's always enjoyed loving on her, no matter where they were. In fact he even seemed to do it more in public.

But tonight was different.

It was like he was longing for something from y/n. His puppy eyes watching her intently, a sweet smile on his lips but still sulky.

Y/n didn't want to say anything in front of her parents, not wanting Harry to feel embarrassed or picked on. So she just held his hand all night, letting him kiss her cheek whenever he felt like it and watch her with his sad eyes, deciding to talk about it with him later.

He's curled up in her bed, Apples tucked tight to his chest and watching her brush her hair when she finally brings it up.

Placing her brush on her dresser, she sits next to him, legs crossed under her bum. His eyes follow her, only moving once she's settled in and laying his head on her thigh.

"Are you alright Harry?" She says gently, combing her fingers through his hair. He stays silent, one of his arms reaching to wrap around her waist, his hand slipping under her shirt to rest on her back.

"Come on H." Y/n encourages, sadness stabbing painfully at her heart. She hates seeing him like this, seeing him uncertain and quiet. He's also so confident and brave, his head held high. "Know you can tell me anything, right? I'd never judge you, my sweet alpha."

His arm tightens around her, a pitiful whimper leaving his lips at the sound of her calling him alpha. Y/n grins, glad she got a reaction out of him with his title.

"Oh no," Harry mutters, muscles tensed and jaw clenched in frustration. Her grin falls, panic blossoming in her chest. She's never heard Harry speak with such fright before. "no, no, no, no!"

"What's the matter Harry?" She asks urgently, gently pulling on his curls to try and get him to look up. "Please tell me? Please?" He groans, scurrying onto all fours and scrambling away from y/n.

She jumps up, following him as he climbs to his feet, backing away from her with his hand clutching his lower stomach. His nose is scrunched in what y/n believes is either frustration or pain, huffing as he collapses against the wall.

"Harry?" Y/n begs, taking a tentative step towards him. His eyes snap to meet hers, frantic and longing but darker than usual. Almost as dark as they get when he's about to knot her...

"Can't love." He finally says, voice deep in a growl. Y/n notices his canines, the ones that he sunk into her abdomen not so long ago, are peaking out of his gums. What in the world?

"Can't what?" She steps closer, lightly bowing her head in hopes that it gives some sense of control over whatever this situation is.

"I have to go," Harry huffs, fingers tightening around his tee-shirt and grunting softly. "We have to go!"

"Tell me what's going on Harry." Y/n pleads, tears welling up in her eyes. Why is acting like this? Why does he look so afraid? Why won't he let her touch him?

At the sight of her watery eyes he frowns, stumbling forward to walk to her. "Don't cry, please don't cry my luna." He's watching her with his dark glossy eyes and panting, sweat glistening on his forehead.

"What's wrong?" She sniffles, reaching her hands out for him. He doesn't waste a second before he's grabbing them, bringing her hands up to grab his shoulders as he cups her face. He groans at her touch, brows furrowing.

He sighs, inhaling deeply to try and calm himself. He wipes at her cheeks, clearing away all the tears that have fallen.

His next words make y/n freeze.

"I'm starting my rut, pup."

I hope this was worth the wait x

[treasure-my-aurora]

We’ve got Tonight

• Summary: I’d known Felix since before he was born. My tiny preschool hand would often press flat against his mother’s round belly while I looked up at her with surprised innocent eyes as the baby inside kicked against my hand. Known him as a brother, a best friend and a rock to lean against through my whole life. But now, in just a month, he’d be going away to train with some of the best in the industry, and with time running out, perhaps there is more than just platonic feelings between us… something that would bring up more pain, jealousy and sorrow than we could ever imagine.

♥ Pairing: Bang Chan/Reader/Felix

♦ Chapter: 6/9

♣ Words: 2313

♠ Genre (in this one): Angst

“Hi” “Hi” Felix had barely opened the door to his room, and I feared for a moment that he wasn’t alone. A change of my expression as I glanced behind him and that was all he needed to open it fully. “I’m alone. If that’s what you’re wondering. I wouldn’t answer the door if I wasn’t” He stepped aside to let me in and I didn’t comment on the fact that it was clear that someone had been in there, even if they weren’t anymore. “Rude” I answered and sat down in the chair at his desk while he sat down on the bed, hands folded in his knees, “What? Would you?” He asked, surprised and I shrugged, “I’ve answered a phone call from you mid-fucking, so yes” He cringed, shook his head with slight disgust, “I didn’t need to know that, but thanks” “You’re welcome” I mumbled, awkwardly and fiddled with my fingernails. “Can we-” Felix started out, but I immediately shook my head, “Nope, we can’t” “But I-” “Am gonna forget about it” “And you-” “Will forget about it as well” “And Chris-” “Is ok” We spoke like we usually did, despite the clear tense feeling between us and I just looked at him as he nodded silently afterwards. My heart gushing with anxiety as something, so real that I could almost touch it, changed in the air around us and I sighed deeply. Felt how that unbroken bond between us cracked like fresh ice when you stepped on it, when I flat out refused to talk about the kiss that happened yesterday. “So, the two of you-” “Are ok. We’ll figure something out. He’s an ass. But he’s my ass, and I love him. “I just- don’t wanna see you hurting” “Don’t wanna see me hurting, I know” We finished the last line at the same time and Felix chuckled softly as I smiled brightly at him. Patted next to him and reached out for me and I was just about to take his hand when I remembered what had happened on the same bed within the last 24 hours. Felt how my smile fell when I realized the fear that I would smell someone else than him or me on his sheets. My eyes flicked and he noticed, of course he did, and a small sigh left his lips as his hand fell back against his side. “Sorry” He said, and I gave him a small smile that didn’t reach my eyes. Not knowing why he felt the need to apologize. - I was alone, sitting on the sofa in my apartment while browsing through the photos in my camera album. A mug of tea in my other hand, pressed it close to my chest while I listened to the silence that surrounded me. Let the hot beverage fill my stomach and sighed with content to this calm moment of my own. Paused at a photo I had taken off Chris and couldn’t help but to smile a little. It was a bit out of focus, and he sat on a lawn chair among friends. The moment was snapped shot a few months ago when the days where warmer and we sat in the back garden of Jisung and Seungmin’s dormitory until the late hours of the night. Just talking around a small bonfire while eating snacks and drinking, holding each other and celebrated summer. I chewed on the inside of my lip when I zoomed in on his smiling face, bright and with eyes crinkling while looking over at Woojin, who’d just told a joke. Swiped over to the right and clenched my jaw when the next photo took over the screen. It was a few days later. Still a hot day, with the blazing sun in the background. Felix's eyes were squeezed shut, scrunching his nose with a spoon upside down between his lips. Close enough to the camera that I could count every freckle on his face. Pink strawberry ice cream in the corners of his lips, wearing a big tee that I’d stolen three weeks later. Hair still bleached blonde and I smiled at the memory. Cringed at the pain when I felt how much it hurt and swallowed hard. I never thought love could be anything like this. The familiarity. The commitment that I felt to the two most important men in my life. The way it felt when I woke up in Felix’s bed one day after spending the night when Chris wanted to hang out with his friends in uni. The way it felt when I woke up in the bed I shared with Chris, because Felix was busy with the last preparations of his trip. The way I couldn’t help but reach out to them both when I woke up first, brushing away the fringe from their foreheads with a gentle touch. Smiling as they stirred awake, both with brown eyes, both with smiles on their faces when they saw me and both putting their arm around me and pulling me closer with a satisfied hum. Chris pressed his good morning kiss on my lips and Felix pressed his on my forehead and I felt my heart flutter with happiness both times. It felt like I was the main character in a K-drama. But the playful love triangle in some of them was much messier in real life, and even if the series that ran on TV in the small hours of the night always had a romantic aspect in it, despite the angsty drama between the three people, my situation couldn’t be further away from that. It hurt when the emotions, the thoughts of them both and our impossible situation, slashed at my heart, creating tiny nicks that constantly bled, no matter what I did. Not to mention how ridiculously much time it swallowed. Just thinking about what I should do. If I wanted to let my best friend go. Maybe even for good. If Chris was right when he said that our relationship wasn’t natural. That there should be something separating us, for us to be whole again. Me as me and him as him. That we had to grow up and stop living in a fantasy world where the two of us could be best friends forever, frolicking through a meadow with the sun setting… It just wasn’t realistic to keep dreaming like that. I was closing in on my mid 20s while Felix haven't even reached that number yet… and a part of me felt perverse. Disgusted with myself when I imagined him with me, doing all the things that I desperately craved by now. For us to completely indulge within each other. Got off on just the thought of how good the sex would be with our level of communication. How we'd be able to just become one without any of that awkwardness that usually happens when you slept with someone the first few times. But then I remembered who I was fantasizing about and my whole body froze. Remembered and felt sick to the stomach when I thought back about the way our life had been leading up to today. He’d always been smaller than me, always been one you could easily pick on and I had always been like a bigger sister. Always there to make sure that he was ok. But that all changed last summer, and even though I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment, I guess that something snapped the line of protective feelings I had towards him when I realized that he was older than I thought. That he’d grown up into a young man and I stood, fixated on the sidewalk beside him, watching as he seemed to age even more as the months flew by. How that innocence he always carried with him disappeared in an instance after Christmas when I nearly walked in on him. All of a sudden, everything changed, and I hated, hated to admit that he was hot. That e was honestly drop dead gorgeous after his jawline sharpened and the atmosphere around him switched from boy to man over spring and summer. I cursed myself daily. Cursed the fact that I felt attracted to the same person I’d seen growing up. That we had to be so close. That he still, now more than ever, glanced over at me while he thought I didn’t see. Not because he felt attracted to me but because I was interesting, simply because I was a woman. I guessed that it was just simpler like that, for him. Rather than staring at the girls in his class, because we always spend so much time together… And then there was Chris. The man I’ve thought of as the love of my life for the past five years. We began dating for real after he’d turned 19, simply because I felt uncomfortable with going out with someone younger than that. He’d been pressing me for two years though, constantly telling me that he didn’t mind that I was older but I felt dirty, like I was doing something forbidden every time he tried to talk me into sleeping with him and we kept our relationship status as friends; even dated others during that time. Our relationship was comfortable without the need to be together all the time. Out on adventurers throughout the first years of knowing each other and decided to move in together shortly after his 20th birthday. We lived and laughed together. Went on trips. Learned, loved, appreciated each other and the world around us. Promised each other to grow old together, to support each other and even though there wasn’t a physical ring around our fingers, since we both didn’t like the jewellery, there was a silent agree of an engagement. Only time could tell when we both felt that we were ready to actually buy the rings. And the rest is history, basically. We got along well, he was able to make music through university and I was able to work with my biggest passion and together we build a good life. Based on trust and commitment. Both which had never been threatened until now. Until the repressed feelings, the cloudy thoughts and emotions I’d buried deep in my heart flared up when Felix showed me the scholarship he’d received and told me that he’d travel to the other side of the earth. And here we were, just a few days until his departure. My heart torn to pieces. Delirium and sentimentality shooting holes through my mind and soul with every passing minute I spend with Felix. Guilt and conflict cracking in my joints with every passing minute I spend with Chris and it felt like I was falling apart. Like I was a ragdoll getting divided by two people, each of them loving me so much it hurt and each of them so important to me that I couldn’t pick one. - Sure, things felt strange between us now. We were more careful, not consciously as touchy feely as we’d been before, but I refused to let a feeling stop me from spending every waking moment with my best friend as the days passed quicker and quicker. We’d been watching a movie, and I scooted closer to him as the minutes passed, as if my body were drawn to him like a magnet and we both took a shaky inhale of relief when I leaned against him, and he placed his arm around me. Turned me around to face him, let us both fall to the side and I couldn’t help myself from burying my nose in the nape of his neck, stretching out like a content cat to feel his body against mine. Not caring about the movie as I tangled one leg with his before throwing the other over his waist. “I hate Hyunjin” Felix whispered, as he sighed deeply and I just hummed in agreement, knowing that he was talking about the stupid pandora’s box dare and the kiss that changed us, “I love you, noona. I don’t want anything to stop those emotions to reach you. Not a stupid dare, or the fact that I won’t be able to see that smile of yours in person for six months” “Don’t remind me” I whispered back. Voice slightly muffled from being pressed against his skin and he shivered slightly from my breath against his neck. Felt how badly my heart hurt when I held him tighter and how my body betrayed me as he pressed his against mine. How my heart flipped and the need to push him closer with the leg over his waist increased when I felt the slight dent of his cock in his pants press up against the warmth between my legs. Swore that I could feel his breath hitch in his throat when he felt the same things as I, but the two of us refused to act upon the feeling. Even as my arousal started to burn as he grew harder. Lasting in our comfortable position for as long as we could before I removed my leg and he swallowed hard, tensing up as he held himself back from chasing my heat. His erection poked against my thigh and I suppressed a gasp when he placed a lock of hair behind my ear. Breath ghosting against my lips when I met his dark eyes. A sad smile crinkled them, and I knew exactly how he felt. Even though he probably wouldn’t admit so, himself. Hoped so badly, that I felt ashamed of myself, that he got turned on because I was the one pressing up against him and not because he needed to get off and I was just a familiar body. Cursed my own heart when I realized how fucked up our situation really were.

[bakugou-tm]

Anti-Hero Bakugou x Reader

This idea came to me awhile ago, I had read a piece similar from the Voltron fandom or something?? I d k but I really liked the idea so I hope I do it justice, enjoy! It’s not exactly what you think it’ll be, just keep reading my dudes ;)

What the infamous anti-hero did not expect to hear at one in the morning was his phone ringing beside his bed.

There was nobody to be calling him, especially at this hour. He had declined most clients due to the season time, and the ash blond was rather cranky since his recent plans had been hoaxed by the newest Class 1A... those fifteen year old brats.

One day he was going to blast them all to hell.

Regardless, once the loud ringing persisted Bakugou gave into the sound with an annoyed growl, shooting up from his covers and snatching the phone only to freeze when he saw the caller ID that was displayed on his screen.

Why on earth would you be calling him, and why would you be calling him this late? 

After Bakugou made more surprise appearances when you were out in public, he was pleased to see your bitter love for him caving in to your desires. He wasn’t sure how but he even had gotten your number.

That is.. until that shitty boy from Class B had gotten to you. As if the prince charming to save your almost tinted soul, the dark haired boy made you forget all about Bakugou. Better said... he made you remember the villain Bakugou truly was.

The ash blond tried to tempt you once more, but it was clear you were done with his antics. This is why Bakugou planned to take that shitty hero school by storm and light up every last one of those B-List idiots, but not until the glorious Class 1A stopped him and his small crew.

After these recent turn of events Bakugou remained in the shadows, rage building up inside of him as he watched you skip around with this so called hero. 

Which made it all the more weirder when he saw your caller ID on his screen, his crimson eyes narrowing in suspicion before he clicked the green button on his screen and lifted it to his ear.

“The fuck?”

Before he could even finish his growled statement, the sound of screaming and glass breaking was heard in the background causing the ash blond to jump in surprise. Just where the hell were you?

“Baaakaagou?” You groaned into the phone, your voice somewhat laced with sadness when you heard no response, “D..Did I call the wrong number again?”

“No you idiot it’s me, the hell is wrong with you?” Bakugou hissed, already out of bed and stripping off his sweatpants as he heard more chaotic sounds from behind you.

Suddenly a small shriek escaped your lips causing the boy to smash the speaker button on his phone before running to his closet to grab clothes, “Suki it’s you! I’ve missed you so m..much!”

Gritting his teeth he threw a black hoodie over his head, searching for a new pair of sweatpants to slip on while he heard your sloppy voice over the phone. The sound of you hiccuping was not very promising.

“(S/o) are you fucking drunk?”

A loud gasp was heard from the other line as he tugged the gray sweatpants up his waist while letting out a sigh, “Ahem, no I am not drunk thank you very much...” You hissed into the phone before letting out a quiet giggle, “I’ve only had one drink from a very big man, i..it kinda tasted like my favorite cereal... w..what’s it called again?”

Shit, someone was trying to drug you. Quickly snatching his phone the ash blond slid the window of his apartment open, jumping down the rundown building so not to wake up the other members of his crew.

While they were generally neutral about Bakugou’s crush on you, a few grew suspicious as to where his loyalty stood. The last thing he needed was them on his ass right now.

“Stay where you are shitty girl, and if that man comes back punch him as hard as you ca-”

“FRUITY LOOPS!” You screamed into the phone almost causing Bakugou to drop the device as he ran down the sidewalk.

“What?!”

Bursting into giggles Bakugou could hear voices behind you before you spoke up, “M..My favorite cereal, I just remembered they’re called fruity loops!”

Letting out a growl the ash blond continued to run down the dirty cold streets, heading towards the nearest bar he knew until he heard a deep voice in the background of the phone.

“Hey why don’t you grab another drink with me in the back little lady, it’s on me.”

Bakugou’s crimson eyes widened when he heard you chipperly agree, only confirming you were not in the right state of mind.

“(S/o) don’t you go fucking back with him-”

The sound of the line cutting sent a wave of chills through his core, until a new wave of rage crashed over him.

Quickly typing away at your phone, he used the new application Kurogiri got on his phone to track down any device, confirming your exact whereabouts. He had no time to wonder from bar to bar, he needed to get to you and fast.

Shoving his phone in his pocket once he locked onto your location, Bakugou blasted away into the sky, thinking of how he was going to blow this assholes brains out until his inner rage was calmed.

----------

Storming into the bar, the ash blond kept his hood up so not to be recongized before slamming his fist on the counter effectivly startling the man behind it.

“Where did that (h/c) hair go, roughly (height) sized.” Bakugou hissed, the man looked the ash blond up and down before slowly pointing to the back door.

It took Bakugou less than two seconds to storm towards the door, shoving all the drunk idiots of the bar aside before blasting open the door, his head whipping to the scene he feared he would see.

Sitting on top of a stack of dirty boxes was your form, your back pressed against the wall while your head leaned on one of the three men before you.

“H..Hey, you promised me more of my fruity drink.” You pouted, head sliding off the side of the man as he grunted, the other two attempting to sit you up.

“Yeah yeah little miss your drink is coming, just lean back for us yeah?” The man cooed, his hands working up the small hoodie you wore, “Lean her against the wall you idiots before someone catches us.”

Both men pressed your back against the wall, your head resting against as you bursted into giggles, mistaking their wondering hands as something much more simple.

“I..Is this a tickle party?” You grinned, barely able to keep your head up until Bakugou had enough of this.

How dare they bring you to such a filthy place. A pure angelic girl that had no taint on her, just sloppily laid amongst this trash. It was angering, raging even.

“Oi oi, get your hands off her you perverts.” Bakugou yelled, catching all of their attention causing them to jump before they saw the boy standing before him.

Suddenly their startled expressions faded as they bursted into laughter, the man before you keeping his hold on you while the other two began to walk to Bakugou.

“This doesn’t concern the likes of you kid, now scram.”

Bakugou’s once angered face darkened, his fists clenching as they began to spark up, “Let her fucking go now, before I show my fists so far up your as you won’t be able to walk for weeks.”

While the threat was intense, the men couldn’t help but scoff down to the teen sized boy.

“You got a lot of nerve kid, who do you think you are?”

Just as Bakugou was ready to show them, your giddy voice filled the air causing all of them to look at you.

“B..Bakugou?” You muttered, your glazed over eyes looking to him before your face brightened up like a child on Christmas Day, “Bakugou it’s you! Don’t hurt him tickle guys, h..he’s my very best friend!”

The men’s once confident faces all dropped at the sound of Bakugou’s name, their heads slowly turning to the ash blond as a crooked smirk appeared on his features. Pulling his hood down, his infamous ash blond locks were revealed while his crimson eyes glowed devilishly in the rundown alleyway.

“B..Bakugou? You never told us you were that creepy new villain.” The man said, slowly stepping back while Bakugou advanced, smashing his fists together.

“Well I was hoping to stay anonymous, but I guess blabber mouth couldn’t keep her fucking mouth shut,” Bakugou hissed, rolling his eyes to your giggling form before focusing his attention back on the three cowering men, “Either way, I’m going to blast you all the way to hell.”

And with that, the only sound that was heard were the cries of the three men and loud explosions, lasting for a bout five minutes until three heavy thuds were heard against the cemented road.

To anyone that happened to look down the street, all they would happen to see was a black figure shaking with rage, smoke coming from his hands while his sinister crimson eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. But luckily, nobody bothered to check on the loud cries.

Once finally beginning to calm down Bakugou quickly made his way over to your form, your head beginning to slide against the wall while you almost fell off the pair of boxes until the ash blond luckily caught you somewhat gracefully.

“Fucking hell... you’re a mess (S/o).” The ash blond muttered, your normally bright skin looking sickeningly pale meanwhile your head was burning up. He could only imagine the massive hangover you would be having tomorrow.

Blinking your eyes in a dazed view, you leaned on his muscular arm that wrapped around your form before looking up to him, “I..I’m not a mess, I’m just sleeeeepy.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, ignoring you drunken words as he made his way down the sidewalk while keeping a firm hold on you as you stumbled forward. UA was only a few blocks down, and lucky for him he knew exactly which dorm you were in.

“Can I fucking ask why the hell Class 4A’s number one hero is out at one in the morning drunk as a fucking skunk?” The ash blond questioned, grunting as you stumbled over your feet once more.

Letting out a sigh you seemed to be pondering over something, your (e/c) orbs flicking to the ground before you ultimately shrugged, deciding not to respond.

The rest of the walk was in silence, while Bakugou would usually be teasing you to no end like he usually did, it was no fun when you weren’t in the right state of mind. The ash blond new for a fact if the real you were here, you would have punched him into the nearest wall. But now here you were, putty in his hands.

It was... unsettling.

“H..Hey, I see UA coming up!” You suddenly cried, catching Bakugou’s attention as you began to trot forward until you were out of his grasp, the absence of a stable being causing you to trip over your own feet and stumble to the ground.

Expecting you to groan in pain or maybe even cry, Bakugou was met with you bursting into giggles causing an annoyed growl to escape your lips. Whatever they put in that drink really made you braindead.

"I don’t know why the hell you didn’t just call that fucktard of a boyfriend to pick your goofy ass up.” Bakugou hissed under his breath, snaking his arm around your back and neck and scooping you back to your feet.

But instead of continuing to walk forward, your expression suddenly faltered as you bit your lip. That same lost face you had before returning to your features, causing the ash blond to freeze as you looked down to your feet.

“I...I would rather not speak of Yosetsu at the moment,” You muttered sadly, your right foot grazing against the sidewalk bashfully before your tearful eyes looked up to Bakugou, “I wasn’t good enough for him s..so he cheated on me with another girl.”

Suddenly all the dots clicked in Bakugou’s head, that’s what this was about.

That’s why you were drunk at one of the dirtiest bars in Japan, that’s why you called him of all people to come pick you up, that bastard was the reason you were in this mess.

While there was a small spark of pleasure upon hearing that idiot was in your past, it was nowhere near the amount of rage he felt for the sorry boy.

“That motherfucker...” Bakugou growled, fists clenching before he heard you hiccup, half from your sobbing and half from your drunken state.

The look of your heartbroken eyes and blotchy face made Bakugou’s heart skip a beat, especially when your sad voice came to match it, “Y..You’re not going to leave me to, a..are you Katsuki?”

Gritting his teeth, Bakugou ran his fingers through your soft (h/c) locks to calm you down, knowing he couldn’t leave you in such a sad and vulnerable position.

“Course not, I’m not a dumbass like him,” Bakugou scoffed before turning around and crouching down with a scowl on his face, “Now get on my back so I can get your ass home.”

Seeing your expression flip from sad to excited helped somewhat of the guilt Bakugou felt, but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t seething with fury towards that boy. He had already made a mental note to smash his head into the nearest wall next time they came across each other.

After about ten minutes of tedious walking, Bakugou finally made it to your dorm building. Entering through the backdoor and to the girls dorms. While he knew exactly where your dorm was for his own personal reasons, stalking the shit out of you, it was helpful remembering how the dorms worked thanks to his previous years at this shitty school.

By the time he reached your door, your head felt heavy against his shoulder, assuming you were asleep since you made no movements at the sight of your dorm. Trying the knob the ash blond huffed in annoyance when he found it unlocked, always so irresponsible.

Shutting the door quietly behind himself, the anti-hero shuffled over to her unmade bed, getting ready to set her down until she began to stir on his back, sliding off of him before he could set her down.

“Tomorrow you need to drink a shit ton of water you hear me?” Bakugou muttered, keeping her swaying form still by grabbing onto her arms, “Now get some rest shitty girl, lord knows you’ll fucking need it.”

Ready to turn around and make his escape from the dorms, he froze when a quiet whine was heard from behind him, his crimson eyes looking back.

“Y..You can’t leave without a kiss goodnight!” You huffed, your lower lip puffing out into a pout while you folded your arms stubbornly.

If only you knew how much he wanted to just slam you against the wall and take you right here, oh how he wanted to give you so much more than a mere goodbye kiss. But as much as he wanted to, it just wouldn’t be the same knowing it wasn’t truly you asking for his burning touch.

Instead, Bakugou stomped forward giving you a quick peck on the lips before pushing you down just softly enough for you to plop down on your bed, “Go to bed now you little shit.”

Now ready to sneak out, he was yet again stopped but this time by your small hand grasping his own, using his stable body to hoist yourself back to your feet.

“I want you t..to give me a real goodnight kiss.” You muttered, your eyes holding a certain look that sent chills over Bakugou. This wasn’t good, your stature, that devious look in your eye... you were asking for something that you were going to regret. He could only beg you wouldn’t push him further, that thin string of sanity inside of him threatening to snap by just your very gaze, 

“You’re going to regret this (S/o).” Bakugou growled down to you as your arms snaked around his neck, your lips curving into a grin while you looked up to him with a dazed expression.

“I doubt it...” You purred, kissing at his cheeks before your lips neared just by his ear, “I know you can do much better than that Suki.”

Damn it. How were you going to whisper seductivly to him like that, even using the nickname you knew drove him wild. You were asking for this the whole time, and lucky for you were able to snap that final string like it were a strand of fine hair.

In a matter of seconds your body was hoisted into his arms, a shriek escaping your lips but was immedietly muffled by his mouth smashing against yours.

Immediately the taste of your sweet lips were devoured by his own, the stringent taste of alcohol slightly in your mouth as well. It was foreign to him, your mouth normally tasting of sweet candy, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

The anti-hero devoured up your lewd sounds as he gripped firmly at your underside, a low growl emitting from his own lips as he diminished any bit of innocence you had left. Surely you would feel miserable tomorrow, but the only thing the two you seemed to care about was the present. The now.

Your form was putty in his hands at this point, your fingers tugging at his ash blond locks while you let out soft moans at the occasional feeling of him biting at your lip. The sound of your gasps making the beast inside him even more riled up.

Bakugou wanted to push you further, he wanted to leave his mark on every inch of your body to claim what was rightfully his, but deep down he knew you weren’t his yet. This wasn’t you speaking, this wasn’t you kissing him, this wasn’t you. Rather a drunk and saddened version of yourself, and as much as Bakugou craved your heated touch all over him, this isn’t how he wanted it.

He may not be a hero, but he wasn’t like those shitty perverts.

Pulling away from your bruised lips he scowled when he heard your annoyed whimpers, tugging your leech like hold on him off you as you whined before giving you one final glare that seemed to shut you up just by the look.

“Get the fuck in bed, now.” Bakugou growled, your lips tugging into a frown before you nodded, crawling back in bed.

Once he finally saw your exhausted form bundled up in your sheets, the ash blond left your room in silence, leaving you to dwell upon tonight’s wild events and prepare for the aftershock the next morning.

While he expected to wake up to hundreds of angry voicemails from you about the night before, he was surprised to wake up to one simple text.

A text causing a smug smirk to grow on his lips.

“I may have regret going to that bar, but I didn’t regret kissing you. Call me.”

[jimlingss]

She’s Testosterone 3 [Finale] 2/2

Read the Original: She’s Testosterone Read the Sequel: She’s Testosterone 2 Read the Final Installment: She’s Testosterone 3 Part 1|Part 2

Words: 15.7k Genre: 49% Crack, 40% Fluff, 10% Smut, 1% Angst. Gender Bender!Au Summary: Drop dead gorgeous, cute and sassy - you adore your best friend. But is there more beneath the surface? Who exactly is Min Yoonji? Warnings: Swearing, dirty talk, praise kink, light spanking and all other kinds of sin...

Disclaimer: Includes cross-dressing as the opposite gender. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with the subject matter. Viewer discretion is advised.

“You must know him well if you’re willing to grab him like that.” Yoonhee hums, tilting her head to the sky. Your arm is looped around hers, the way she decided to walk with you. “He doesn’t let anyone touch him anymore, not even me, the relative that cares for him the most.” She says dramatically before laughing, “so, are you the two of you close?”

Her eyes pin onto yours, making you absolutely terrified. You feel transparent, like she can see every single sweat bead roll down your face, every breath you take. You’re prey while she’s the predator, an adorable cub compared to the lioness. It feels like you’ve propelled back into the days where you first met your roommate. “S-somewhat.”

The Min family certainly has skills in intimidation.

“You’re cute, you know?” Yoonhee giggles menacingly. “I would’ve never guessed that you were his type.”

“Oh..me and Yoongi…” Your entire face goes red. “We’re not like that! Not at all actually.”

“Yeah?”

She looks amused. You scramble, accidentally stuttering out of nervousness. “I-It’s just that we’re really good friends. Nothing more really. I...uh...I-I’m not sure.”

“Yoongi’s a nice boy.” She sighs out, avoiding the crowd and scowling when there’s too much noise. It seems like she hates Seokjin’s singing and when she passes by Hoseok reading his poem, she almost gags. The similarities between her and Yoongi are incredible. “He was like a puppy when he was younger, the darn cutest thing ever.”

Your eyes gleam, soaking in all the information and you hum in agreement. “Yoongi appears cranky but he’s actually really...soft.”

“Exactly.” She snaps her fingers in her other hand, pointing at you with a smirk. “Looks like you really do know him. He acts like a grumpy grandpa shouting at kids to get off his lawn but he’s still a kid inside. Childish indeed. Back in the day, he would pout and cry when he didn’t get what he wanted. And when he did, he had the biggest smile. What a twerp. We’re not that far away from age, only five years, so I grew up with him.”

It hits you that you actually don’t know about his family or what he was like when he was a child. Hearing all these things piques your curiosity and is absolutely fascinating. You hang onto every single one of his aunt’s words and syllables. She notices that you’re listening intently and her smirk grows, continuing to ramble.

“Girls and boys used to chase him in the neighborhood. He was that cute. Still is but he has this whole man facade and tries to act mad all the time. It doesn’t really work though. Oh! We used to call him Yoongi bear since he was so cuddly.”

Yoongi. Cuddly. “He was?!” Your eyes nearly fall out of its sockets.

The older woman cackles, tipping back her head. “One time after the lights had gone out, he hung onto me without letting go. And as a toddler, he was practically attached to his mom’s hip. The kid has an iron grip, I swear. He loves hugs and affection.”

It sounds like you’re hearing about a completely different person.

But you can understand, you’re able to draw connections. It’s no wonder Yoongi really doesn’t mind when you curl in bed with him, when you latch onto his arm, when he initiates holding hands with you.

As you’re about to pry for more, your name is called aloud.

“Y/N?!” Yoongi’s jaw has dropped and his parents look quite surprised too. “Yoonhee?!”

His aunt cackles again, letting go of you and meeting him halfway. She puts a hand on his shoulder and he stares at her with a distasteful expression. “What are you doing here?”

She embraces him for a tiny second. “Thought I’d come to visit.” Then her voice drops down, whispering something in his ear that you can’t hear. Yoongi’s face goes scarlet and he pushes her off. She walks away from him, joining with the rest of the family.

(“Don’t corrupt her too much. She’s a sweet little thing.”)

Yoongi sighs and then looks up at you. “What-”

“And who may you be?!” His mother has ran up to the both of you, taking your hands, clutching them in hers and making you jump. She grins, a gummy smile that is reminiscent to your best friend but rather having a scary demeanor, she is bright and chirpy, contrasting to her husband.

Yoonhee grins and she crosses her arms, whipping her hair back. “It’s his girlfriend.”

Yoongi’s father’s brows raises. “Really?!”

“No! No!” You hastily wave your hands. “I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you and I’m just a good friend of Yoongi’s.”

His father virtually sighs in disappointment; for a sheer second he was excited and proud of his son. “Oh.” Yoonhee pouts, tilting her head to the side as she studies you again but Yoongi’s mother has yet to accept defeat.

“You are just too cute, Y/N!” She takes you along, looping her arm through yours. Her eyes are full of fondness, taking in your features and staring into your irises. “You know...I've always wanted a daughter…”

”Actually, tomorrow, I was planning to go shopping since I’m here. Would you like to come along with? I’m sure you have a great sense of style!”

Yoonhee raises her nose, accompanying you. “Sounds fun.”

Yoongi’s left behind, his family trailing after you. “Hey!”

The family dotes on you as if you’re a precious daughter of their own. In a million years, you would have never expected the Min family to be like this, look at you with such kind eyes and speak gently and warmly. Then again, they have Min Yoongi’s softness without the facade of intimidation or the ominous, threatening aura.

Yoonhee is the one that keeps you on the edge of your seat the most, a sharp tongue and beauty that is unrivaled with. She reminds you of Yoonji but a real life version, an exact embodiment and the resemblance is uncanny. There are several occasions where you almost call her Yoonji rather than her own name.

Yoongi’s mother is talkative and clingy. It’s reminiscent of how Yoongi ever so often demands affection from you and the way he mumbles on a tangent incoherently when he’s stressed. But she’s considerate and loving, making your heart feel full with her maternal tenderness. On the other hand, Yoongi’s father is quieter and comes off as serious, solemn and dignified. But you notice the way he cares for his wife, cautioning her to watch her step, walking on edge of the sidewalk closest to the passing cars, opening water bottle caps and securing her jacket around her shoulders when it becomes chilly.

His benevolence and thoughtfulness is quiet but distinctively present.

From Yoongi’s mother’s gummy smile to the way his father acts in a nonchalant manner and Yoonhee's unrelenting sarcasm - the similarities are striking.

It feels like you’re seeing parts of Yoongi, pieces of him, walking around on their own. And you’ve never been more in love with a family before.

//

Park Jimin walks as a ghost.

It feels like a part of his being has been ripped away. His soul is missing. His purpose has vanished. The love of his life, apple of his eye, the light of his world, the Romeo to his Juliet, has rejected him. Thus, he wanders around with a broken heart, begging someone to mend it for him. He cannot work the needle and thread past his tear soaked eyes.

That is….until he lays those same eyes on a certain someone.

Pouty lips. Rounded cheeks. Soft orbs. The breeze carrying strands of blackened hair in front of their face but they remain unfazed. Milky, polished skin and perfect legs, a height that matches his. And the aura is strong, could be felt from a mile away, uncaring and frightening.

Jimin’s heart has been snatched.

“I run a beauty salon, cute little shop on a corner street.” She smirks and scans you from head to toe for the fifth time. “You should come by some time. You’re a diamond in the rough, sweetheart. I don’t just make this offer to anyone.”

“T-thank you.” As you dip your head slightly in appreciation, your pupils flicker over. “Jimin?!”

His mouth is agape, staring at your companion who doesn’t even notice him. “Yoonji?”

When he races up to her and she immediately frowns, taking a step back from the grinning boy. His smile is dazzling despite being out of breath. You almost let out a sob. Jimin truly looks like an angel who has descended down from Heaven. “Who’s this Yoonji? I’m Min Yoonhee. Yoon - hee. Got that?”

But Yoongi’s youngest aunt doesn’t seem at all shaken by him. If anything, she rolls her eyes and points to him with her manicured nail. “You know this guy?”

“I-”

“I’m Park Jimin. Nice to meet you.” He puts out his hand and she shakes it with two of her fingers before letting go, wiping her skin on her jacket. “You must be new here? I can show you around if you’d like!”

“Nice try.” She scoffs. “I’ve been here done that. Not a student anymore.”

Jimin sways from side to side in a cheery mood, rolling on his toes. “Wow! Really? You look young! And you’re really pretty. I mean beautiful, not just pretty.”

She’s completely disinterested. “Uh-huh.”

“This is Yoongi’s aunt, Yoonhee.” You try to ease the tension, making a timid introduction. “She’s coming to visit. I think Yoongi might return soon-”

Jimin interrupts, like a puppy dog who just can’t wait to have a treat. “Can I have your number?” The way he asks isn’t in a tone that most would use to pick up girls, the greasy sleazeballs that catcall near dumpsters and sketchy convenience stores. It’s rather innocent and naive, like a cute middle schooler acting brazen towards a high schooler. He blinks with his big eyes, kind smile and a hopeful expression. Your own heart lurches out and if it were you, you’d write your number a million times and throw it in the air like confetti, screaming ‘yes!’.

“Fuck off.”

Yoonhee makes a ‘hmph’ sound and like a cold boss ass bitch, she spins on her heels and enters the gift shop of the university, disappearing from sight. At the same time, Yoongi’s exiting and he smiles at you. “Hey! My parents were asking-” His lips fall at the sight of Jimin.

When you whip your head over, you expect Jimin to be crying into his hands, his smashed heart disintegrating completely into ash. You envision him breaking down in public, the sweet smile of his broken forever. But instead….he’s grinning even wider...eyes following the backside of Yoonhee. He’s in love.

You wonder if he’s a masochist.

“Yoongi!” He reaches over and hugs the other man. “It’s been awhile. Where’s Yoonji? But actually..I was wondering...” Jimin nervously twiddles with his fingers. “Can I have your aunt’s number?”

“No.”

Yoongi takes your hand within his, bringing you away. You’re in a state of shock, merely moving after him. Jimin jumps, smiling brightly and he waves. “Okay, bye!”

//

How is it possible? What have you been doing wrong? Were you that inadequate that Jimin wouldn’t even look at you twice?

“Are you seriously still hung up on him?” Yoongi sighs, taking his foot and nudging the lump on your mattress. He kicks your butt gently and then plops down on his own bed. “He’s an idiot, alright? It’s not your fault. Nothing is. His loss.”

“No.” You softly whine despite it being a lie. You twist and turn, revealing just your face in the bundle of your covers. “Your parents are really nice.”

“They aren’t.” He takes a long drink from his water bottle. “I don’t know how you did it but they absolutely love you. Even Yoonhee.” He sulks and wipes his mouth. “How did you do it?”

“I don’t know.” You answer in honesty. “I really didn’t do anything.”

“You just acted like yourself…”

“Yeah.”

Now Yoongi can understand why. Even if you’re an idiot as well, you’re a lovable one.

Hating you would be no less than hating puppies or kittens. They’re helpless and so are you. Somehow you have the power of pulling people’s most protective and tender instincts out. It also relatively makes it more difficult for Yoongi to stay mad at you.

In the morning, you still refuse to budge out of your cocoon.

“Get up!” He attempts to tug the blanket away. “Just because it’s the weekend doesn’t mean you can stay here all day.” You don’t even answer him with words, just a strangled whine. “This is all because of Jimin, isn’t it?!”

You whimper. Yoongi gives up.

He swears under his breath, getting ready for the day and taking his belongings. You’re too much to deal with. And he has priorities. Studying in the library will give him a better outcome than worrying for your stupid and blind ass. But before the door is able to slam closed, your phone rings violently. Yoongi sighs and decides to pick up since you wouldn’t even flinch if the building was set on fire.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, sweetie? Is that you? Good news! We managed to switch our flight!”

A deeper man’s voice comes onto the other line. “We’re here! Surprise!”

The phone call ends abruptly after some fumbling, an accidental click of the button. Yoongi nudges you again and you don’t make a sound. Though as he drops the word ‘parents’ like a bomb, you jolt up, throwing off the blankets.

“What?”

//

They're standing at the entrance with the statues and the official sign, taking turns snapping pictures on their ancient camera, putting up their first two fingers and palm facing outwards in a v sign. They’re like tourists on a safari. But the minute your mom sees you, she stops posing and grins. “Mom! Dad-”

“Have you lost weight?!” Your dad wheezes dramatically. “Have they not been feeding you well here?!”

Your mom lifts up two totes full of tupperware. “Good thing we brought food with us! Home cooked meals from yours truly. There’s meat and rice and noodles.”

“That's a lot-”

“Some of it’s for Yoonji too!” Her eyes sparkle with interest. “Now where is that girl that you've been talking about?!”

Your dad laughs. “Your new best friend! Bestest roommate in the whole world. And here I thought I would forever stay as your best friend.”

“I can't leave without meeting her.” Your mother pushes your dad’s disappointed face out of the way, gaining your attention again. “We heard so much about her. I am so excited to see what kind of person took our sweetpea’s heart.”

They've always been like this. No matter what you do in life, even if you become a rich and successful CEO, the new Steve Jobs or a world renowned stripper, they’ll always make you feel like a little girl from the countryside. “When are you guys going?”

Your mother puts her hands on her hips. “Telling us to leave already? The audacity!”

“We’re only dropping by briefly.” Your dad laughs. “That cousin of yours is being chased by some of those ol’ loan sharks. We gotta travel half across town to beat some sense into him.”

Your eyes double, taken back by the news. It sounds serious but he said it so casually. “W-...will you be okay?! You want me to call the police?”

“Nonsense.” Your mother spits out. “Those loan sharks are your dad’s old friends from way back in...what was it?”

“High school.”

“Right. And that cousin of yours is puny. What’s he going to do? Step on our toes? But stop avoiding the subject! Where is this best friend of yours? I want to meet her before I go.”

“She’s busy.”

“What?” Your mother’s mouth opens large enough to a fly to die in. “Certainly not busy enough to not meet us, right? It’s not like we’re here everyday to visit you.”

Why must they be so relentless? “Yoon-”

“Y/N!” The familiar timbre voice ricocheting around the vacant grounds sends a chill up your spine. Your neck cranks around, already sensing the impending doom.

“Oh.” Your mother gasps again. “Is that your best friend?”

“It’s a man?!” Your father immediately and instinctively puffs out his chest as if he’s preparing to put on a facade of protection. “You never said it was a boy-”

“He’s handsome and cute.” A whisper leaves your mother’s lips, eyes following after the person whose coming closer and closer. “How did you do it, Y/N? He’s a bit on the short side but capable looking.” As Yoongi comes near, her irises light up like the galaxy's starlight has pooled in them. “You struck it big, Y/N! You’ve won the lottery!”

She turns to her husband, arms in the air. “She’s won the lottery!”

You thank the heavens and every deity that exists that no one’s around to be witness to your embarrassing parents. “We haven’t even met him yet!” Your father says spitefully. “Don’t be excited!”

“Don’t scare him away.” She commands, poking his shoulder with a pout. “Our daughter already does a good enough job scaring people away. Remember when she threw dirt at that neighborhood boy, Ricky? He cried and never came over to play again. I don’t need you to do that either.”

The bickering between them doesn’t quiet down and so you shush them harshly.

Yoongi is in a white, ironed button up. His top is tucked into his black dress pants and his hair is neat, face freshly washed. “Nice to meet you.” As he approaches, while still catching his breath, he bows his head. “Good afternoon, Mr. L/N and Mrs. L/N.”

“And you are?”

“Min Yoongi.” He lifts up his head, giving a gentle smile as his pupils flicker to you. “I’m Y/N’s good friend.”

“You’re Y/N’s friend?” Your mother fakes a shocked inhale. “The one we’ve heard about so much? Why it’s such an honour to meet you! We must’ve misheard on the phone then. It wasn’t Yoonji. It was Yoongi. I am so sorry for the mistake. You know how phone static can be, especially in the area I live in.”

“It’s no problem at all.”

Who is this person. You don’t know him at all. Where’s the grumpy Yoongi that ripped away your blankets and kicked your ass this morning?

Your father clears his throat. “You look like a strong, dapper, young fellow. Healthy?”

“Very.”

“Good.” Your mother interjects. “Please take care of our daughter. She can be so clumsy.”

You open your mouth to retort but Yoongi’s beaten you to it. “I will.” His arms are behind his back, shoulders broad and he wears the perfect smile, corners upturned pleasantly.

“Hold on a second…” You drag him away, clutching his wrist and walking ten steps from your parents. Your mother looks satisfied and your father is curious. Yoongi looks just as amused. You want to tear your hair out by the fistful. “What are you doing here?!”

Yoongi gives you a pout and he blinks, tilting his head. His expression reads ‘what do you mean?’ as if you’re attacking him for no reason whatsoever. You know he’s bluffing innocence. Min Yoongi is as far from being a little lamb as you are from being an evil dragon. “I told you I wanted to meet your parents.”

“As Yoonji! Not like this!”

“No. Exactly like this. I want to meet them as Yoongi.”

“But...why?”

“Because.” His face is unreadable, an intricate set of codes that your mind can’t analyze. He simply walks back to your parents, joining into their conversation and you drag yourself to him.

“What’s your major? What do your parents do? What do your job prospects look like?” She leans in, “are you thinking of marrying my daughter?”

“Mom! He’s just a friend!”

Yoongi tells your parents his major, what his own parents do, his family background and a vague outline of his future plans. “And I’m not sure if your daughter has any feelings for me.”

“But you might?”

“Mom!” You scream out in exasperation, cheeks puffing out and in a shade of fuschia. She responds ‘alright, alright’ and eases back. His eyes have pinned on you and he laughs at your reaction. You stare back at him incredulously. Yoongi’s so kind to them, understanding and patient that it boggles your brain.

Your mother soon asks to be escorted to the bathroom. When you notice that your father’s standing with his arms crossed next to Yoongi, you open your mouth. But upon having no solutions, you give up. As you walk away from the scene, you can only hope that your roommate won’t say something wrong and they won’t break out into a fight and kill each other.

“Oh ho ho…” Your father catches Yoongi’s eyes watching you. “You like that silly daughter of mine?”

“I uh-”

“You can’t fool me! I know those eyes anywhere! I was once a young boy too, you know! I’m aware of your intentions.”

It’s the first time that Yoongi’s ever been flustered and he shakes his head. “I...I don’t want her just for her bod-”

“You love her.” Your father doesn’t apprehend what the other man was trying to say. And Yoongi’s so thankful that he never said it out fully.

He replies without hesitation.

“I do.”

“Well I ain’t gonna give my blessings so easily. Hmph!” The middle aged person looks away childishly, reminiscent of how you can act sometimes. Yoongi looks up at him, blinking with his rounded orbs. His cheeks puff out and his lips naturally pout, a look that you’re weak for. “Don't look at me like that!”

It seems to work on your father as well.

“Like what, sir?”

“I can’t do it.” Your dad sighs tiredly, dropping his arms. Then, he smiles. “Did I play the role of a scary father well enough?” He pauses and then breathes out heavily. “Y/N’s our only child. We care about her. I hope you do too.”

“I do.”

“She’s probably giving you a hard time. Isn’t she?”

He answers in all honesty, “a little.”

“Then I don’t need to give you a hard time. You’re not a bad kid, kid. I can feel it.” He slaps his stomach. “Straight in my gut.”

Yoongi nods carefully. “Thanks?”

Then the two men find you running towards them at full speed, not wanting to miss out on what they’re discussing. You almost trip on your shoes and a rock but you catch yourself. Your dad chuckles and the younger man smiles at you. “I hope to see you sometime in the future.”

Yoongi looks at him and he continues, staring straight ahead. “The holidays or maybe Thanksgiving? Come visit.”

//

It feels strange.

Many things have been odd lately but walking alongside your best friend around campus as Yoongi and not Yoonji tops the list. It’s the way it makes you feel nervous, not from potentially getting caught, but from the way he looks at you every so often. And he doesn’t just look. His eyes linger. Yoongi gazes at you.

It’s the way you’ve fully become aware of the height difference, the low timbre of his voice when he murmurs to you, his calloused fingertips when it grazes against your skin. It’s the way butterflies have swooned in your stomach, your heart has picked up its pace and you’re hyper aware of each movement, hitching your breath. It’s the way his hands are larger than yours, secure when he catches your palm, holding it. Yet, like the way you know him, Yoongi’s acted like nothing’s happened, looking away and clearing his throat. At the same time, his fingers intertwine through yours and your grip tightens.

It feels like you're dancing on a line.

Not sure what to exactly call your relationship. Not sure how you feel about him. How he feels about you.

“Thank you.” You bite down the feeling of disappointment when he lets go and shuts the door to your dorm room. “I really appreciate you being nice to my parents. You didn’t really need to do all that.”

“Of course I would do it for you.” He scoffs, tugging off his shoes.

“You’re not really obligated to do that much for me.” You swallow hard, back facing him as you stand between both beds. “We’re only best friends.”

There’s a long silence.

When you turn around, the dim yellow light at the entryway and the glow of the street lamps outside seeping in, provide you with enough luminescence to see the frown and hurt written across his features. “Yoongi?”

The tension is thick. It feels like you’re suffocating, wrapped around in close intimacy, not knowing what to call the person who stands before you. Despite being a meter away, he’s gotten too close. Since when did this happen?

His voice croaks out in a pained murmur - “Why are you so stupidly dense?”

“What?”

“I’m insanely-” He takes one step closer. “ -attracted to you.” Another step closer. “So much so that it drives me crazy.” One more step. “And I don’t want to just kiss you.” He takes the last step, standing right in front of you. Yoongi’s a mere hair away. His soft whispers are deafening, echoing in the hollows of your mind. “I want so much more.”

For the first time in your life, you’re a witness to Yoongi being on the verge of tears.

You can finally see him. “I do want you."

“Do you want me because I’m Yoonji, your best friend?”

“No-”

“Because I’m your roommate who happens to be a male?” He chokes up and blinks past his foggy eyes, looking up at the ceiling before at you again. “Just because you’re attracted to me? Would any other man aside from me do? Or do you want me as Min Yoongi?”

“I-”

“And what about Jimin?” He chuckles breathlessly. “It’s so annoying. You’re annoying.”

“What?”

“Every time that guy is brought up, you forget about everything.” For a split second, you would think Yoongi’s acting irrationally jealous but you know him too well to think that. He’s genuinely hurt. “About us.”

“You wouldn’t be longing for another person if you wanted me for me.” Yoongi stares at you, his warm brown irises pleading for an honest answer, for you to open your heart up. “Do you want me, Y/N?”

“And not just me but as a boyfriend, someone that I can hold and love openly. Because if it’s you….I don’t think I can handle anything less than that.”

The explosion has detonated. The final words have been spoken. White noise plays in your ear. Yoongi steps back, leaving the room. You’re left with the pieces of your own emotions. His heart sewn, truest and most sincere declaration permeating into your skin.

Time has stopped.

//

Yoongi doesn’t return. You’re not sure where he stays or where he goes, especially when he’s not in the form of Yoonji and could become easily caught. You don’t get a wink of sleep that night either, but when morning comes, you decide to leave. If Yoongi wasn’t coming back because you were around, then you’ll make sure to disappear.

“God, it’s so difficult being me.” Seokjin opens the door, shutting it behind him. He puckers his lips in his handheld mirror, smiling his dazzling grin before the reflection finds a small curled up person in the corner, hair over their face. He screeches, jumping like a flailing fish while he spins around. “Mother fucke- I mean….Y/N?”

Your eyes peek from the curtain of your locks. “Hey….Seokjin.”

“Are you crying?” The narcissistic, school idol puts down his mirror, collapsing onto the floor in front of you. “Do you need me to sing to make you feel better?”

“No!” You jolt your hands out instantly. “I...I’m fine.”

“Where’s Yoonji?” He looks around, scanning the premise but the somber classroom is completely empty.

A whimper leaves your voice, “why?”

“You’re always with her.” He retorts with a huff before running a hand through his hair. “And aside from me, the best looking one in this school, the second in line for looks has to be her. I can’t deny Yoonji’s attractiveness.” He leans in closer with a sly smirk. “Don’t you think we’d make such a perfect couple?”

You giggle at his blind confidence and he seems to have an ego boost from your laughter.

Jin leans in even closer to you. “You want to hear my vocal training? I can go up to really high pitches.”

“I’m okay.”

He nods and inclines back. “Do you think I’m attractive, Y/N? Attractive enough for Yoonji?”

“Well.” For now your mind has been taken off the situation at hand and you decide to entertain Seokjin for a while. “She’s hard to impress.”

“Look at these rings.” He lifts both his hands and flutters his fingers. “Do you know how wealthy I am? How expensive these pieces are? One thousand dollars.” He slips one off his thumb, placing it in front of you. “Two thousand.” He places a silver band down. “Three thousand.” He places yet another and another, naming the prices off the top of his head.

You wonder if he’s insane. If he’s just saying random numbers out loud or if he’s truly that careless to be taking them off. A thought flashes through your mind that if it were Yoonji, she’d grab the jewelry and book it to a store, cashing them in without batting an eyelash.

“You know…” Jin finally looks up, meeting your eyes. “You’re really pretty up close.” You visibly gulp, questioning where this was coming from. The college boy even leans in, flickering his pupils to your lips and for a moment, you’re afraid he’s going to kiss you. But then he smiles.

“I’m prettier though.”

You scoff lightly and he grins, squeaky laughter leaving his mouth like a child’s toy. Seokjin slips back on his rings and he looks up at you again. “I know why you were crying.”

“You do?”

He pauses for the dramatic effect and then breathes in sharply, whipping his head back. “You were crying because you realized you could never be as beautiful as I, Kim Seokjin, the very best.”

“That’s-”

You never got to spoke much to Jin but he was not unlike the others. Very bold and shameless but also very bizarre, dare you even say….weirdo.

“It’s okay. I understand what it’s like. I’ve cried in front of the mirror before too. I asked how could someone be so gorgeous. Let me show you what I mean.” He suddenly bolts up and in the dark empty classroom with only sunlight coming in through the windows, he slowly walks backwards. “The moonwalk.” Then he twirls. “The spin.” His hips have a seizure. “Hip thrust.”

The odd man reminds you of the type of person your mom constantly told you to stay away from as a child. “Bam.” He does finger guns and you fake an expression of distaste. “Don’t lie to yourself. I can see you smiling, girl.” Jin flips his hair back. “I know I’m good, you don’t have to deny it.”

He takes your hand and hauls you up, making you stand on your feet. And you’re about to thank him but he suddenly pulls out your palm, ripping a pen out from his pocket. “If you wanted my attention, you should’ve just asked for it instead of stalking me and waiting for a chance like this.”

“I wasn’t-” You’re interjected by the ticklish feeling, pen tip gliding on your skin.

“Here’s my number.” He gives you back your limb and you stare down at the scribbles. “Call me anytime.” Jin winks and he opens the door again after his spectacular performance, feeling good about himself. “Oh, make sure Yoonji gets it too.”

You nod stiffly. “Okay.”

As you make your way to the bathroom, ready to scrub off the inscription, you ponder if Jin was truly that strange or if he was trying to make you feel better. If it’s the latter then he succeeded.

“Hoseok?” He’s leaning against the wall, staring out the window with tear droplets cascading down his face. He doesn’t notice you until you shake him. “Are you alright-”

“Oh. It’s just you.” The poignant man wipes away his tears. “I was reading this poem and it churned the deepest emotions within my soul. It touched me to the very core. Open your ears, let me read it for you.”

You can’t walk away. Not when he’s opening his mouth and beginning. “The Dumb Girl.”

And immediately you feel insulted by the title. Was this a personal attack?!

“Hey-”

“Mute. Tongue twisted, tongue tied.” He sighs helplessly, shaking his head. “She could not give an answer. Like the spins of a ballet dancer. Yes. No. Yes. No. Time was let flow. Until he cannot wait. Left it to fate. And thus her lover, fell for a dancer.”

“Heartbroken for she had not spoken. Regret like the cold sweat of a burnt out cigarette.” Hoseok’s voice increases in volume and passion, not caring about the broken cracks in his voice. “Forget; she tried! Forget; she screamed! Forget; she desired! But she could not. For the arms that once wrapped around her, the sweet whispers of the monsieur, were all far from being a blur.”

“Mute she was. Regrets became her laws. For time never takes on pause.”

Hoseok finishes and you’re on the verge of tears. Right when you were about to forget about the whole incident with Yoongi and your friendship now standing on a thin line, the turmoil inside, the answers you hadn’t given...they all come tumbling back.

“Beautiful poem, isn’t it?” Hoseok muses with a look of melancholy. Then, he decides to rip out the entire page of his literature book. You wonder if he was trying to look artistic. If so, he was failing.

“Take it.” Hoseok clutches your hand, putting the paper between your fingers. “It looks like you need beauty in your life at this moment.” He taps the back of your back, urging you forward while he disappears.

You take a hard left, exiting out of the hallway before someone can see you break down.

Unfortunately, you aren’t so lucky today. It seems like you’ve been having terrible luck; horoscope gone bad, tarot reader pulling out the death card and black cats hissing at you.

When you’re making your escape, none other than Jeon Jungkook catches you and follows. “It’s not like I care but it would be annoying if I went about my day and thought about it later.” He mutters under his breath, opening the door to find you sitting on the edge of the emergency staircase. “Hey you!”

You turn around, sniffling and he softens his tone. Jungkook scratches the back of his neck, letting the door close behind him. He takes two steps and slumps down, sitting beside you. The man rubs his palms together and takes one peek; confused at the way you rub your eyes, sniffle and your shoulders that tremble.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“N-nothing.”

“Liar.” He calls out instantly, voice ricocheting through the empty staircase. “Tell me the truth, alright? I don’t want to waste any of my time. I got things to do….just say it.”

“I-...” You downcast your head to your hands in your lap. “I’m an idiot. I hurt my best friend all this time and didn’t know. I was blind! And I drove them away and now they’re gone!”

Jungkook scoffs. “You’re not an idiot. But maybe you are for calling yourself one.” You whimper, holding back from crying and Jungkook rests his chin in his hand. “They’ll come back.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Cause you’re you.” He scoffs again, redirecting his brown irises to look at your face. He seems to study it for awhile until he breaks the silence. “You look ugly when you’re upset.”

He peels off his jacket and drapes it over your head, covering you from potential eyes that could bore into you if they were to open the door. And with the fabric, you’re no longer shaking or shivering. “Stop crying. It makes you look even uglier.”

“Thank you…”

“Don’t thank me.” He coughs awkwardly. “It’s just burdensome to see someone cry. But if you want to show me your gratitude, hook me up with Yoonji. Of course, it’s not like I care about her either but you know, I would be bothered if I knew I didn’t give her a chance.”

You giggle behind the jacket, soaking in the warm moment of sitting next to Jungkook on a stairway, listening to his peculiar comforting words.

//

“Y/N!” Someone calls your name and you smile, swiveling around. The jacket’s still draped on your head but more so as a hat or hood at this point, revealing your face. Jimin’s angelic smile materializes in front of you and you dwell in his radiance.

“Hey, Jimin. How are you?”

“I’m good, how are you?” He asks with the same politeness, crinkled crescent eyes and a faint dimple marking one side of his cheek. He’s a celestial being, sweet and kind, adorable and beautiful. The gentle smile and tender aura in his brown-honey hued irises could cure diseases.

He’s the love of your life, every trait you could ever wish for in a lifelong companion. The wishes you had made upon stars as a child, the rubbing of lamps and imaginations of genies, the other side of the wedding aisle - he’s what you dreamed of. “I’m good too.”

“Have you seen Yoonji?”

But never once has he spared you an ounce of attention.

“I don’t know.”

Never once has Jimin looked at you twice, considered you different from the strangers in his life.

“Oh. Okay!” He begins walking away, waving to you. “I’ll see you later then.”

How could you have been so blind?

Even if Jimin is the manifestation of all your teenage daydreams and the epiphany of the boy you drew in the corner of your crumpled homework pages, he isn’t the one. He has always been and always will be the person you were merely infatuated with, the crush and nothing more.

You don’t love Jimin.

“Hey! You!” A shout makes him turn. He smiles at the person running towards him.

“I was looking for you, Yoonji!” Jimin perks up and lolling his head. “Actually, I was going to ask you, and I hope you don’t mind….where your youngest aunt’s beauty salon is.” The cute boy pouts and he stands on his toes, swaying back and forth nervously. He pinches a few strands of his blonde hair and looks upwards with his rounded orbs. “I’m in need of a haircut.”

“Do you know where Y/N is?!” Yoongi hyperventilates, having run all the way from the dormitory to campus when he didn’t find you in the room. “Jimin!”

“Oh! I just saw her.” He hums out with a smile. “But your aunt...Yoonhee….”

“Fine! Fine!” Yoongi gives it up, furiously taking off his backpack to rip a page animalistically out of his notebook. It’s completely jagged but he doesn’t care as he uncaps the pen with his mouth, scribbling out an address onto the sheet, using his propped up knee as a table.

It’s a very unladylike posture and you would certainly scold him if you were here since he’s in a skirt and all.

“Thank you so much!” Jimin launches himself over to the other, wrapping his arms around as his hands holds onto the paper tightly. “You’re the best Yoonji!”

Yoongi cringes and peels him away. “Tell me where Y/N is.”

//

It’s embarrassing. You feel humiliated.

There’s a number graffitied on your hand, the ink completely smudged. In your other hand is a ripped page of a badly written poem. There’s a random jacket over your head, draping you like it’s a makeshift umbrella, except it’s a sunny day outside. And your cheeks are tear stained.

Yoongi holds back a laugh. Your face reads: ‘Why did you leave me?! Look what happened!!’

“Y/N-”

“You had your turn!” You pick up the volume in your voice, pointing at him. “Now it’s mine.”

The seams of his lips meet, silenced at your abrupt loudness. It’s very rare to see you act aggressively. Though, it’s not menacing in the least bit. There’s still a pout at your lips.

“You will always be my best friend. No matter what. It’ll never change. One day, you might not be my roommate anymore but friendship lasts forever!” When you realize people are staring at your shouting confessions, you quiet down. Yoongi chuckles and you skedaddle closer to him.

“Bros before hoes, sisters before misters, friends for life.”

“Isn’t this embarrassing?” He leans down to whisper in your ear, matching your height. Your entire face answers his sentiment but you grumble and he chuckles. “Continue…”

“I love Yoonji. My female friend, the one I met on the very first day.” You look right at him, letting a single smile slip across your features. “But I love Yoongi as well.”

“I’ll accept you for whoever you are. My best friend…...and my boyfriend.”

The words sink in. There’s a long three second, three heartbeats that passes by. Yoongi blinks at you, once and then twice. You wonder if you’ll have to repeat yourself. But then he suddenly wraps his arms around your waist, picking you up with ease and he spins around. “Finally!”

You laugh with him. To outsiders, it may look like two close friends sharing a happy celebration or rejoicing together in a joyful achievement. But to you and to Yoongi, your dearest friend, this marks the beginning of something special, a change that will no longer make you the dumb girl who was blinded and could never give an answer, who let regret become her laws.

Time begins to move again.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEE-

Yoongi whines and in a disgruntled motion, reaches out his arm to shut the alarm clock off. As he’s about to drift off again, you shuffle the covers around, unattaching yourself from his grasps. His lids slowly peek open and you’re staring at him with a dazzling smile, one that’s too excited for the early morning and so silly that it makes his heart stutter. You press a light kiss to his cheek and leap up into the air.

“Time to get up!”

He would complain. He would yell at how that damn alarm clock always scares the shit out of him every morning and sounds like a war siren, making him want to smash it on the ground or throw it out the window. He would curse on how you moved too much, woke him up when he didn’t want to wake up, how the sudden absence of your warm body now makes him feel cold. He would grumble of how you’re way too happy in the mornings and how he had to face your morning breath. But still…

You kissed him. So, he’s not really going to complain at all.

“Fine.” Every muscle in his body aches but he still gets up anyway. “Good morning.”

Your silly smile still shines brightly. “Morning!”

The daily routine doesn’t differ that much from when you were solely two friends and you called him by the name of ‘Yoonji’. Though a few things have changed. Very much so.

“Can you stop looking?” You huff out, feeling your bare backside being penetrated with his eyes. A long time ago, he would’ve ran away when you chased him in your naked glory, when you even exposed an inch of skin. He might’ve let his eyes wander once, only to catch a glimpse. But now, he was full on staring. And you could feel his pupils and the heavy weight of his breaths. “Are you actually getting aroused-”

“I’m disappointed.”

His sharp syllables slap you across the face. Your fingers that were buttoning up the ruffled blouse halt. Your neck swings around so fast, it might’ve snapped. “What?”

Yoongi smirks. The boy with the sleepy eyes and disheveled hair, has the audacity to laugh at your shocked state when he, himself, looks like a mess...an adorable mess, if you were being honest.

“I’m disappointed in myself.” He continues to smirk, standing up and taking two long strides to you. “I can’t believe I keep forgetting how pretty you are.”

If you were in your sane mind, maybe you’d gag at the greasy line. But when it’s Yoongi...when it’s him looking at you like that with such soft eyes and a fond smile, your heart can only pathetically run faster as if into the arms of the man you see before your eyes.

You’re whipped. And so is Yoongi.

He kisses you briefly on the lips, a simple peck and then he leans in to whisper into your ear. “Too bad I’m prettier.”

There’s the Yoongi you know.

Even to this day, as you’re pulling up a pencil skirt, adjusting your cute outfit in the mirror, you can’t help but let your eyes flicker over. He’s always had better legs than you and his skin has been clearer, his pretty lashes-

“Can you stop staring?” He lifts up his brow, chuckling at the way you’re licking your lips while staring at his crotch covered by a thin fabric of his boxers. When you realize where your irises have instinctively traveled, you let out a ‘hmph’, twisting on your toes to go into the bathroom.

He joins you a few second after, taking the toothbrush with the set toothpaste that you prepared at the same time as your own. You both brush your teeth in synchronized motions without speaking, blinking the sleep away from your eyes. Then like children, you fight for the use of the sink, spitting it out and rinsing your mouth while trying to wash your face properly.

“You don’t need to impress anyone anymore.” Yoongi blatantly ogles at your ass as you’re leaning against the counter, getting closer to the mirror. He’s pissing in the background and you wrinkle your nose.

“I still have to look presentable.” You cover your dark circles with concealer, skipping out on a whole bunch of products, the bottles with thick pigments abandoned. You used to cake up your face, covering each flaw and blemish in case you’d run into Jimin but now things are different.

Your skin can finally breathe - you don’t have five coats of mascara on, a centimeter-thick layer of foundation on your face and a procedure that lasted up to an hour. You finally look like yourself.

“Are you using hair rollers?” You look at him through the mirror in disbelief.

Yoongi has them in his hair, the bangs of his wing curling with the blue roller. “So what? I need to look presentable as well.” Without a care, he takes the blow dryer and whisks it around the strands.

You scoff, hating how he looks so beautiful without even needing to try.

“Done! How do I look?” You're standing at the entryway, slipping on your shoes and ready to leave. You pucker your lips again, checking that you applied the rose shade evenly.

Yoongi blinks at you, once, twice with his rounded and innocent eyes. He tilts his head to the side and when you’re about to open your mouth to tell him ‘nevermind’, he suddenly grabs a hold of your cheeks, pulling you in and kissing you. You gasp before reacting back to him, letting your shoulders lose the tension, melting into his grasps. After a few seconds, he lets go of you and the freshly applied lipstick now stains his own lips.

“That was expensive, you know.” You whimper with a pout, the hue now smeared and missing from certain corners, lips swollen from how it was before.

“Kill two birds with one stone.” Yoongi hums in satisfaction, taking his pinky finger to spread the colour, pursing his mouth. A heat flushes up your face when you realize that he’ll be walking around nonchalantly as gorgeous Yoonji, the pink of his lips directly transferred from your own.

The evidence of your smooch session will be presented to the world and no one will know but the two of you. At best if someone does notice, they’ll think you shared the product like any other friends would. Though, it’s not in the innocent way that friends typically share. “Let’s go.”

You’ve never been happier.

Perhaps it’s the way that your love is returned, that someone cherishes you the way you cherish them. You’re not chasing after someone, helplessly hoping, pinning for their affections. Maybe you’re just in a new stage of a fluttering romance, allowing your heart to swoon over simple words. Your world is covered in rose tinted glasses.

But every time Yoongi holds your hand underneath the desk in class, how he twines his fingers through yours boldly when you walk through halls, steals glimpses of you across from the table at the library - it makes you feel warm...blissful...happy.

And it’s not just because it’s a new romance, not due to your feelings being returned, not that anything will make you this way from your rose coloured universe.

It’s because it’s Yoongi.

“I think I’d still love you if you were Yoonji.”

“Yeah?” He smiles down at his papers, one hand using to rest his head in while the other holds the pencil.

“As long as you’re you…” It’s a bit embarrassing to say it aloud. Hence, you keep your own eyes on the lines between your textbook. “...and I realized that we weren’t just best friends, the outcome would’ve been the same.”

“Hey. You have something on your chin.” He interrupts and you urgently look up at him then down, trying to reach your hand to the skin.

“I do?”

Yoongi nods and then he reaches over the table, grabbing your chin into his hand to plant a kiss right at your lips. You’re just as stunned when he pulls away. “It’s gone.”

A few people who had caught the action giggles and whistles at the sight. The librarian sharply tells them to hush. Yoongi pretends nothing’s happened, focusing back on his studies.

You blush from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, wondering how you’ll ever be able to study with him in a mile radius from you.

//

Your best friend-slash-boyfriend has never been known for being sweet. In fact, your roommate has been known for being bitter. Of course, you’ve always been aware of the underlying moments, the softness underneath the prickly skin. And he’s become even more gentle to you ever since the relationship has been officially established.

His name could become sugar for all you cared.

But Yoongi was still merciless, unyielding and harsh when he needed to be.

“Sto-...p hold...ing back your-…. noises.” He scolds through breathless pants. The both of you had been making out for the past twenty minutes, a string of saliva broken as he parts away from you, swollen lips to show the intensity.

You’re not sure how you got into this position, with Yoongi leaning against the headboard and you, perched on his muscular thigh, straddling him. Before this, there’s only been petting, with his hands travelling up the expanse of your skin, groping at your breasts past your bra and your fingers twisted through the strands of his hair. But today, after stumbling into the dorm room from classes and from hour long lingering stares, the pair of you have difficulty holding back.

“But the others…” You inhale to fill your lungs. “They’ll hear us.”

He smirks. “Let them hear.”

The feeling of his calloused fingertips dancing across your smooth skin sends shivers to your spine. He kisses you again before moving down to your neck, marking it in black and blue hues with hard sucks. You let a strangled moan out, trying to keep quiet for the thin walls. Yoongi gropes and touches you, examining each inch, searching and feeling. You move your hands down to his thighs, thankfully exposed with his skirt that’s now hiked up as well as yours.

Without realizing and with his hand squeezing your ass, hot mouth moving down to your collarbone, you begin rocking yourself against Yoongi’s thigh.

It promptly jolts pleasure into your skin, fulfilling your throbbing core. The thin fabric of your panties is the only thing that covers the direct skin-to-skin contact and it’s already completely drenched, molding to the shape of the lips and folds. “Fuck.”

He squeezes harder and rests his forehead on your shoulder, relishing in the feeling of your wetness sliding on his skin, how you’re getting yourself off using him but without him needing to move a single centimeter. Yoongi clenches his muscle and shifts it slightly, making you whine louder.

Your boyfriend braces himself for another second, ignoring the tent in his underwear before his hand finds the dips in your waist, halting you. “We should stop.”

“Why?” You immediately cry out, embracing him and pulling him flush against your warmed body. “Do...do you really want to stop?”

“Because…” Yoongi exhales staggeringly. “I-...I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But I’m ready. I’m ready, Yoongi. Please.”

When he asks you again if you’re sure, confirming if what he’s hearing is right and he tucks a strand of hair away from your face, you nod and reply with a firm ‘yes’. He smiles and kisses you again. “I want you to be loud. Don’t be afraid to hold back your sounds. I want to hear you.”

“Okay.”

“Good girl.” He praises, smoothing out your hair in gentle motions. Then, something flickers in his eyes and he rips off your blouse. You laugh at how eager he is and you take the opportunity to strip him of his shirt, disposing it to the ground where the wig lays.

Your lips meet his and he lays a hand on your lower back, making you lay down as he removes your skirt and underwear along with his own. “This is so embarrassing.” You cover your face up before moving it down to your crotch and arm covering your exposed chest.

“You know I’ve seen you get changed? Like probably a hundred times already.”

“Well...It’s different!”

“Is it?” He smiles, positioning himself over you.

“Yes!” You stammer out, looking into his eyes and pouting. “You’re...touching me.”

Yoongi moves another piece of hair away from your face, gazing at you lovingly. “Which is okay, right?”

“It’s okay.” You echo back. “But…” Yoongi pauses at that word and becomes serious. “I’d like to touch you for a change.”

He takes a sigh of relief before sitting back on the mattress, hands balancing his leaning body. Your boyfriend smirks at you. “Go ahead. Be my guest.”

You swallow hard, sitting up and feeling his stare bore holes through your skin. Your hand shakes as you drag down the remaining article of clothing on him, throwing the boxers to the ground. Then, you’re met with a red leaking cock - the one from your dreams, quiet literally. But he’s much bigger than you anticipated.

You slowly wrap your hands around him, a feather light touch and Yoongi seems to become eager, twitching every time your skin makes contact with his. “It’s alright. Like this.” He wraps your hand around yours, setting a pace up and down his length, pumping him before he lets go.

You marvel at his member, how it’s been hidden all the time and you’ve never seen it before until this very moment. The precum is already spread across, making your movements more fluid. His girth feels thick in your hand and you mindlessly mumble out your thoughts. “I don’t think it’s going to fit, Yoongi.”

“Fuck.” He throws his head back, brows furrowed and eyes shut tight. You peel your eyes away from his cock to admire his expression, how he’s completely withering in your hands. It feels powerful, amazing and you speed up, having a sudden desire to lick it.

“Are you going to cum?”

“No!” Yoongi suddenly flashes his eyes open, frowning at you. “Why would I be finished so quickly? It’s just the way you said that-”

“Can I put you in my mouth?” The minute the request leaves your throat, he shuts up real quick. Yoongi stares at you, his adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps. You decide to tease him further. “But I wouldn’t want you to finish right away….so….”

“I’ll spank you.” His orbs darken, threatening you.

You scoff at him. “No, you wouldn’t.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. There are sparks, each of you challenging each other. Without answering or retorting, he suddenly lurches out, flipping you onto your stomach.

“You know, I want to take care of you but you make it so damn difficult, Y/N. Why do you have to be such a little brat sometimes and test me?” He makes a firm command, the deep timbre of his voice rumbling in your ears. “Raise your hips.”

You comply and he spanks you once, his palm kissing the skin of your ass in one motion. It’s not too hard but not too light either as if he’s testing the waters out and your reaction to it. “Do you know how long I had to go with you walking around naked?”

Yoongi spanks you for a second time, a bit harder and leaving you tingling. You whimper with pleasure into the pillow, muffling the sound. “How many times I had to jerk it off in the shower because of your teasing?”

At this point, you’ve become hot and bothered. The slickness of your core is beginning to make its way down your thigh. “I was in there every single day for way too long because of you.” He spanks you for a third time, harder and making you moan.

“Yoongi.”

His palm massages the area, soothing the redness and easing the sting. He doesn’t want to push you too far when it’s the first time. And so, he flips you over again, appearing over you and caging you in with his arms. “You’re lucky I like you so much.”

He descends, becoming closer to your throbbing clit. “Can I?” His brown eyes meet yours.

You hum. “You can.” Your boyfriend laps around your folds, sucking on the part you need him most, soft lips on your clit. You moan louder, shutting your eyes tight with your back arching off the mattress, head pushing against the pillow. Yoongi hums in contentment from your response and the vibrations hitches your breath. “It feels so good, Yoongi.”

He licks and sucks, using the warmth and wet muscle of his tongue to spread you apart, going deeper. Your voice increases without even realizing, hands buried in his hair, forcing him closer.

“I’m going to use my fingers.” Yoongi pants, mouth drenched from your juices and making you go bright pink.

“Wait.” You hold his locks before he can dive in again. “Is it going to hurt?”

His blown out pupils soften for a second, half-lidded eyes staring back into yours. “I promise I’ll go slow.” The pad of his finger run up and down your folds, collecting your fluid and with caution, he gently pushes in. Yoongi checks for your reaction and when you nod, he begins to pump in and out with his one finger.

It’s a stretch, a pleasant one that is different from your own hand. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah.” You manage breathlessly and Yoongi connects his mouth back, sucking again. The tension builds and builds in your lower stomach, the invisible knot tightening. He increases with another finger and you almost burst. You’re nearly there. “Yoongi. Yoongi.” He knows by the trembling of your thighs cinched around his head that you’re close. As much as he loves hearing his name being sobbed out of your mouth, he detaches himself from you.

You cry out from the loss but he comforts you, running a hand through your hair. “Are you okay so far?”

“Yes! Yes. I’m good.” The tears prick at your eyes and though it’s kind of him to keep asking, you’re becoming impatient. “Just please. Hurry?”

“Condoms, condoms!” Yoongi hops to his feet and nearly trips. You giggle at how oddly clumsy he is, frantic like you’ve never seen before from the usual calm demeanor. His hair is ruffled, panic set in his expression, completely bare and naked and vulnerable in front of you.

After a good second of staring at him in a disarray, you finally tell him. “It’s under the bed.”

Yoongi falls down onto his knees, searching for the box with his outstretched arm. When he finds it, he grins and takes one of the hundred packages out. He suddenly is reminded of the first time you met him, how you entered the dorm in confusion and nervousness, spilling a hundred condoms onto the floor. The endearing memory makes him smile.

“Yoongi?”

“Yeah, hold on.”

He leaps up again after securing the rubber, pouncing at you. You laugh, rolling around until he has you pinned underneath him. Yoongi coos at you, making sure everything’s alright and you reassure him before the head of his cock is brushing against your folds, making you two let out a sigh. He pushes in gently, groaning at your heat and the tightness but still holding back, making sure that you’re taking it well. You pause for a bit until you’re ready to urge him on and he bottoms out.

“You’re so good.” He kisses your forehead. “Y/N.”

Your arms wrap around his back and he gently pushes your knees against your abdomen, causing you to feel him at a deeper angle. You let out a whimper, telling him to move and he complies.

“I wish I could push my cum back into you. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” He plunges in deep before withdrawing, setting a slow pace.

You nod against his shoulder. “I-I would.”

“You’d be filled all the way up, spilling but I’d make sure that it would stay in. As much as it could and I’d send you off, make you walk around campus with your cunt filled with my cum.” His dirty words whisper sweetly into your ear and it sends scorching heat to where you’re connected. The pain has outweighed the pleasure, causing you to become less stiff, enjoying the feeling and the moment, Yoongi’s touch that you crave for.

His sweaty hair sticks to his skin, an expression of deep concentration and a grunt that comes from his throat when he picks up the pace. “I’d like to see the look on Park Jimin’s face then. Or Kim Taehyung’s.”

Yoongi becomes rougher, faster and you gasp, clawing at him. “You...you should..do it.”

“Maybe next..time.” He smiles. “Wouldn’t want you to get pregnant. But I’m sure you’d carry my babies, real well, huh?”

“They’d…” You have no idea what you’re talking about, how you managed to move on to such a serious conversation about children but the thought of carrying Yoongi’s, makes you twist underneath him. “...be cute kids.”

“Damn straight, they would be.” His words are both filthy and soothing, dripping with honey and sharp like a cutting edge. One second he’s talking about bending you over the desk, making you cry and orgasm so hard you won’t even know your own name. The next, he’s murmuring about having children with you, how he hopes they’ll be like you and how he could do this again and again for the rest of his life if you want to be with him.

“After this, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you.” Yoongi’s hot breath fans across the bruises on your neck. “I won’t be able to touch anyone else but you. We’d be like rabbits or dogs in heat. You’d carry a litter of my pups, how does that sound?”

“Cute.” You mewl out with a cry of his name when he hits a particular spot that makes your vision go blurry. “I..I like it.”

“I bet you do.” Yoongi forces himself up to kiss your lips. “Maybe some time in the future.”

Wait. Does that mean he actually wants to have kids with you?

The thought that has you smiling doesn’t last long when his hips begin to sputter against yours, going out of control, purely to reach both of your highs. Yoongi’s fingers move down, circling around your clit. You cry out for him and he goes even faster. “I’m going to cum.”

“Go ahead. You can do it.” With a soft encouragement, the tension and knot in your lower stomach snaps, your vision having spots as euphoria washes over. You’re in a daze for a good five seconds, almost losing consciousness from the overwhelming feeling. From your walls caving in, Yoongi also loses it, trying his best to draw out both your orgasms.

He collapses on top of you and when you tell him he’s too heavy, he rolls off.

“Are you okay? Was that okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” He eyes your bruises, patting your hair. You hum and he lays there with you, cuddling your body against his for a full minute, feeling like a pleasant eternity. As you’re about to drift off to sleep, let the exhaustion seep into your bones, Yoongi gets up and disposes the condom. Then, he collects you in his arms, carrying you bridal style.

“What? Where are we going?” You complain, eyes fluttering. Yoongi kicks down the bathroom door, lifting up the toilet seat and setting you down.

“Pee.” He instructs. “It’s good for you. You have to do it after sex or else you might get a UTI.”

You pout, listening to him and cringing when he stares at you as you release your bladder. “I can do it on my own….” You wipe yourself and flush. He says an ‘uh-huh’ but when you get up to the sink, the aches in your muscles and in your core scream out. You stagger and Yoongi chuckles, though he shuts up when you shoot him a glare.

After washing your hands with soap and drying them off, he lifts you up and sets you on the counter. Yoongi wipes you down and then wipes himself down, doing it with the utmost care, apologizing when you flinch from the feeling of overstimulation. Afterwards, he carries you back to bed.

You’re sure Yoongi’s just as tired as you are since he appears sleepy, rubbing his eyes and blinking hard. Nonetheless, he thoroughly completes the aftercare process when he grabs a shirt from his wardrobe, helping you put your sore arms through the holes of his shirt. You lay down as he tucks you in with him, pulling the covers up to your chins.

You mold yourself against him, nuzzling your kind boyfriend. “Thank you.”

Yoongi hums, letting you kiss him before the two of you sleep the night away.

//

Kim Taehyung skips with his feet, arms behind his back. After being trapped in his laboratory, staring at screens and monitors, now he had some free time. He had slept for a good amount of that time but there were still hours left where he could do anything of his choosing. Sadly, he had gone around looking for you but you were gone, not in your dormitory, not in the classrooms he peeked his head into….

It was peculiar. You and him had gone out a few times together to investigate Yoonji and Jimin. But bizarrely Jimin wasn’t going out with Yoonji anymore. Taehyung tried to wrap his head around it and when he asked his roommate, Jimin simply said that he found someone even more beautiful.

Anyways, now that Jimin was out of the way, Taehyung totally had a chance with Yoonji!

He’d definitely swoop that girl off her feet, make his move but when he looked for you to devise the next course of plans, get advice on what to do - he couldn’t find you nor your best friend.

Thus, he’s heading to the humongous library towards the abandoned romance section to see if there’s a book he can pick up; a guide on how to woo the ladies.

But what he hears at the back of the bookcases is...whimpering?

Like a detective, Taehyung pushes his lensless glasses closer up the bridge of his nose and stalks the sound. He gasps. This eyelashes bat back and forth when catches Yoonji’s backside and you - on your knees, face buried in your best friend’s crotch?!

The sound of his inhale draws attention and the both of you turn around. After a second, you peek your head out, eyes widening. “Taehyung?!” You look completely surprised and your cheeks are flushing. Yoonji, on the other hand, is completely unfazed.

“What were you-”

“My shirt was stuck in my skirt zipper.” Yoonji points to the silver zipper, lifting up the fabric sightly and flashing a bright smile. “Y/N was just helping me out.”

“Oh…” That makes sense. He nods and grins a boxy smile as he looks at you. “I was actually looking for you, Y/N! I need your help-”

Your best friend rests weight on one foot, leaning back and crossing his arms. “She’s busy.” He takes your hand and begins walking away. Taehyung nods and waves.

“I-I guess I’ll catch you later then…”

When Taehyung’s out of sight, Yoongi lightly spanks you. You gulp, scanning the premise and luckily no one’s around. He smirks and mutters in your ear, “we’re finishing this later…”

Meanwhile, Taehyung sits himself down on the floor, a stack of books next to him on how to capture women’s hearts. He reads intently for hours, soaking in the information on how to be a bad boy to a gentleman. His head throbs at the contrasting details, not sure which is credible and which isn’t. The genius hasn’t had a moment like this in his life where things didn’t make sense.

He wishes you were here right now.

“Hmm….that’s weird.” His mind trails off to the position he found the pair of you in. It’s strange, though he doesn’t know how to exactly describe why it is so.

//

Taehyung can’t return to work.

Not when it’s pressing on his mind. It’s odd. There’s something strange about Yoonji.

Something that Taehyung has never realized before. But he still can’t put his finger on it.

“Do you think there’s something going on with her? I mean...I just never noticed before but there’s something definitely weird.”

Namjoon chomps on his banana, putting it deep into his mouth. He chews, leaving remnants all over his skin and smearing his dirty fingers into his chaotic hair. The boy is monkey-like, giggling like an idiot. “Like what?”

“I don’t know- wait. Shut up for a second.”

“Okay.” Namjoon stops with Taehyung, continuing to eat his banana as he watches the latter man lean against the janitor’s closet with a frown.

“Is that...? I think I hear crying!” Taehyung pushes up his glasses and scratches his head. “Should we get someone?”

“Nah.” Namjoon wipes his mouth with the back of his hand in a barbaric movement. “It’s nothing. I cry in the janitor’s closet a lot too. It’s nice and cool and dark in there. Once I got stuck. I couldn’t open it for hours but I realized….I didn’t twist the door knob.”

Taehyung ignores him and knocks on the surface. He tries the knob but it’s locked. He leans in close and then it becomes silent, as if there was nothing in there at all. Did he mishear? Was his ears playing tricks on him? Maybe he was reading too much and working too much lately. That had to be it.

There’s no other logical explanation! Unless the custodian kept animals in his closet...

He brushes it off and Namjoon continues to accompany him down the hall.

“I can’t believe it…” Two girls come walking in the opposite direction, giggling to each other. “Who turns on porn that loudly? Everyone could hear it and it was like going on all night. God, there’s some real thirsty people around. Didn’t they get tired of watching?”

“I’m surprised they don’t know headphones exist. The RA almost knocked on the door but she was too embarrassed and tired to say something.” The other girl laughs, covering her mouth as she shoves her friend lightly. “But you know...it almost sounded real.”

“Pft.” Her friend rolls her eyes. “How could it be real? That’s impossible! Your imagination’s going too far.”

Taehyung’s head follows them as they disappear, bickering and gossiping with each other. He frowns, letting the words sink in, still confused. At the same time, Namjoon picks his nose, flicking it out the open window, probably onto some poor passersby outside.

“I’m going to go have lunch now!”

“Didn’t you just eat a banana?” Taehyung becomes distracted and disgusted while looking at the tall statured individual. “Do you even go to class? Do you have classes?”

Namjoon shrugs, scratching his head of hair as he makes the wrong turn to the cafeteria.

Taehyung internally and externally sighs.

//

The self proclaimed genius finally finds you when you’re exiting a lecture. He grins and dashes up to you. “Hey, Y/N!”

“Taehyung. It’s good to see you.” You might be dating Yoongi but you still liked to keep Taehyung around as a good friend. You’ve even spoken to Yoongi about it and he didn’t mind nor care. Your friends are your friends, it’s your decision after all. But your boyfriend did express that the idiot genius seemed to have other intentions with you which you adamantly refused.

Taehyung was your friend and that’s all there is to it.

“You know, I need your help with Yoonji! Jimin’s not going on anymore dates with her. This is the chance I’ve been waiting for!”

You smile sheepishly. “That might be a little bit difficult.”

“How so?” He lolls his head to the side in curiosity at the same time the same person you’re both discussing appears at the scene. Yoonji nonchalantly walks up to the both of you, one eyebrow cocked, hands buried within pockets.

Taehyung smiles, about to plunge at the opportunity, ask the love of his life out to dinner but as he looks at you for courage, his irises land on a blue mark plastered on your neck. “Y/N! What are those?!”

You look down before realizing the hickies and marks, covering them up hastily with your hands. “T-...They’re-!”

“She has a boyfriend now.” Your best friend interjects, smiling at you and Taehyung looks between the two of you, trying to decipher the emotions flashing on your faces. “Right, Y/N?”

“I do.”

“Oh…” Taehyung lets out a noise and then he clears his throat. “I mean...that’s great! I just didn’t know. When did it happen?”

“Recently.”

Taehyung nods. “I understand.”

You blush, a bit puzzled as to why the genius appears hurt. He looks up at your roommate, opening his mouth as if to ask something, perhaps for her to go out to dinner with him. But as Taehyung looks back at you, he grows disheartened and nods again.

“I guess I’ll see you later…”

Yoonji waves him off. “Bye!”

You pout at the retreating figure. “Bye, Taehyung!” Then you look to your boyfriend. “That was weird.”

He scoffs and kisses you on your cheek. “You’re super dense.”

You still don’t really understand.

//

You’re munching on a sandwich, sipping a juice box, a carton of soup by your side and a stack of toast to your left. Namjoon sits beside you, swaying back and forth as he plays some game on his phone. He gnaws on a chicken drumstick in his other hand and his phone accidentally slips from his grasps, tumbling to the tiled floor, further cracking whatever’s left of his glass screen.

You wince as he drops his arm down, searching for the device that’s near your foot, his face practically hovering over your skirt. “Hey, Y/N.”

“W-what?” You tug the fabric down and take of a sigh of relief when he finally grabs it, his nose meters away from your thighs like it should be.

“You smell a whole lot like Yoonji.” He comments without thinking much, taking another bite and playing the next round of Candy Crush.

Your entire face from your chin to your hair line turns into a shade of scarlet. “H..how do you know what Yoonji smells like?”

“I like her.” He says shortly as if it serves as the perfect explanation. “She smells like laundry….and coffee…”

“Mint and orange citrus…” You finish off without needing to debate for a single second. It’s a scent that you’ve memorized, that you find comfort in, that you’ve drowned yourself in on cold nights where the chills seeped into the window cracks.

Namjoon doesn’t question why you smell like Yoonji. He becomes distracted, a mind of a goldfish and attention span of a dog in a park with a thousand squirrels running around.

Yoongi finds you after his classes are done, grabbing lunch and seating himself across the table. You don’t say much, mind still preoccupied with your previous conversation with Namjoon. And you eat like a starved man who’s lived on a desert for centuries, focusing on gulping down all your food before your lecture begins.

“Well, aren’t you hungry?” Yoongi smiles as he stares at you, watching as you fit the rest of the sandwich in your mouth.

“I’ve been…” You clear your throat. “...working out lately.”

He smirks. “I bet you have been.”

“Wow!” Namjoon notices and he gawks at you. “You can sure fit a lot in your mouth, Y/N!”

Your boyfriend’s smirk grows even more, “she can. Can’t you, Y/N?”

You flush, rubbing and shifting your thighs together while his gaze becomes darker. Namjoon doesn’t notice. Instead, he challenges you. “I bet I can fit even more!” He peels another banana, shoving it down his throat. The two of you ignore him, having an unspoken conversation through stares.

Namjoon chokes, pounding his chest. Luckily (or not), he doesn’t die.

//

The professor at the front podium reads off of the textbook in a monotone voice. On any other day, you would’ve been bored to death, falling asleep with your head bobbing up and down but you’re wide awake. “Hey...Hoseok.”

The English Literature major looks up at you, having been absorbed in the poetry. “Yes?”

It’s a problem that’s been pressing on your mind for the past few days. You didn’t really have anyone to consult, anyone who would truly understand your issues. The best you had was Hoseok who seemed rather insightful and intelligent, who didn’t ask for details or pry deeper. He could give you an unbiased opinion. “It’s something about….sex drive.”

His eyes glisten and his entire body turns to you. “Ah. The lust that drives our decisions. What about it?”

“I have a friend…” You clear your throat. “Who has a friend who has a boyfriend...and this boyfriend is really sweet and kind and she loves him a lot. But the two of them are always engaged in….”

“Sex.” He says it plainly when you become embarrassed. “Go on.”

“Yes. And now my friend’s friend is worried that her boyfriend really only wants her for her body. I mean...they have a lot of sex. I’m not sure if it’s even normal. Like three or four times a day? O-...Of course, I wouldn’t know out of first hand experience but that’s what I heard.”

Your body is so sore that it isn’t even funny anymore. Everything aches. The skin around your breast, collarbones and neck is bruised in colours of blue and purple, shapes made from his lips. Your breasts, themselves, are tender and your ass is raw, hurting every time you sit down. Your thighs are inflamed, sensitive and your core still throbs. As much as Yoongi takes care of you each and every time, asking you if you’re okay...you haven’t been quite honest. You didn’t want to disappoint him after all.

“Let me read you something. I think it’ll help.” He flips through his notebook. “Lost in lust. Between bedsheets and car seats, a gust from her lips onto his member, it is a night to remember.”

You wonder where he’s going with this but Hoseok continues. “How he thrusts in deep, making her adjust to the leap. It’s enough to combust - after each and every thrust.” He exhales and shakes his head, holding in his tears. “ But alas, their lust was their destruct. For they never discussed and thus did not trust. Never spoken a single word, a proclamation of true love, and from the ocean of sex, there was nothing above.”

There’s a long second of silence. “What?”

“Communication is key.” Hoseok says plainly. “Communication.”

He should’ve just said that in the first place instead of reading out a full poem. But you guess it’s Hoseok’s passion nevertheless. As long as he doesn’t burst out crying like he usually does, you’re relieved.

//

The afternoon sun slowly begins to tuck itself over the horizon, painting the sky in orange and pinks, beams pressing through the glass to your shadow on the floor. You’re studying for some upcoming tests and papers or at least trying to….every other minute, you’re glancing up at the door, waiting for your roommate to return. It’s unlike Yoongi not to be here when you are and he didn’t respond to your text messages either. You can only be curious and worried to where he is.

Alas, at seven o’clock, the door creaks and you perk right up from your drowsy state. “Yoongi?”

“Hey.” He smiles, slipping off his shoes and carrying in a plastic bag. “Nice to see you too.”

“Where did you go?” You shove your books aside, letting him sit on your mattress.

“Nowhere..” Yoongi swallows and then he looks at you for a long time. Before you can inquire if there’s something on your face, he reaches over to begin unbuttoning your shirt.

“H-hey…” You lift your hands to his, nervousness eating at your skin. It hasn’t even been five minutes since his return and he wants to go at it already?! You haven’t even recovered from the morning’s roughhousing. “Yoongi..I-...”

“I went to the pharmacy.” He interrupts without realizing, unbuttoning your shirt only halfway to reveal your bruised collarbones and the marks left on your chest. “It’s soothing cream for your skin. I know I’ve been too rough with you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

His fingers lightly tap on them and he makes sure to be as gentle as possible. Your face grows warm but not in the same way as when he usually touches you. This time, your heart swells inside your chest and you feel an urge to keep Yoongi close to you, in a way that is beyond lust.

“So…” He re-buttons your shirt again, setting the container aside in case you want to apply it on your thighs or elsewhere. “I was thinking...if you wanted to go out on a date…”

“A date?”

“A proper one.” He hums. “A movie, dinner...maybe a walk in the park?”

You can’t stop your grin from taking over your face. “I never took you much for a person who likes walks in the parks, Min Yoongi.”

He scoffs and smiles, looking down at his lap and crumpling the bag together. “I’m not.”

“But maybe for you….I don’t mind.”

//

It’s pitch dark outside. The moon hangs in the air, allowing silver light to melt with the golden glow of lamp posts. Taehyung stretches, eyes exhausted from staring into microscopes, poking organisms in petri-dishes. He hangs the white lab coat on the hook, grabs his bag and switches off the white fluorescent lighting. He stifles a yawn, beginning to twist around the halls to make the treacherous march back to the dormitory.

“What are you doing here?”

“Why do you care?” The sports major huffs out, having been standing partly out of the hallway. He looks right back at him. “I was doing some last minute working out. Are you heading back?”

Taehyung nods and the other nods too. “I guess we could walk back together then. Not that I care about you or anything but it’s more convenient this way. Wait for me….or not. It doesn’t really matter to me..”

“Sure.” Taehyung’s left baffled, waiting out at the hallway and looking through the glass doors of the gym. Jungkook puts back his weights, swiping the towel off of a machine to wipe his forehead. He drapes it on his shoulder and takes his duffle back, swinging it behind him.

“Let’s go.”

The two of them walk alongside each other in awkward silence, having not much to say. Taehyung takes peeks of the other boy but doesn’t say much else until they pass by a coffee shop that’s still open. “Did you eat yet?”

Jungkook shrugs. “I guess we could grab something. Only because it’s on the way obviously.”

Taehyung smiles and opens the door. “After you…”

“Thanks.” They study the menu in some more quietness, letting the background simmer of conversations fill the in between. As they purchase their own pastries, they wait for their drinks at the counter.

“I like your glasses…” Jungkook admits and Taehyung immediately lights up. It’s like the sun has entered the orbit of his dark world, as if his soulmate has been found and his heart has begun to beat for the first time.

“Thanks!” He enthusiastically grins. “I like your face. It’s very biologically symmetrical. Did you know symmetrical faces are considered to be more attractive? It’s scientifically theorized that it may be a link to superior genes. So, I guess in a way....you have superior genetics.”

Jungkook blushes at the compliment. “You’re an idiot.” But after a full second and a skip heartbeat, he mutters back, “I like your face too. It’s also very symmetrical.”

Taehyung’s orbs double and his brown irises shine like sunshine beams. “Thanks!”

It’s an unlikely combination. Though, it’s one that oddly works well together. Jungkook ends up stripping off his jacket to throw to Taehyung when they walk back and the latter offers to help the former study if he ever needs it. Jungkook agrees but plainly because he needs the help.

There’s no other reason. Definitely.

//

Why do you love Yoonji?

It’s a question you’ve asked yourself time and time again. She wasn’t the kindest to you when you met nor the nicest roommate you could ever have. The girl had a sharp tongue, sassy at every single remark, biting in her words and bad-tempered. Yet, you saw underneath the facade to a more vulnerable person who cared a lot despite the venomous exterior.

She became your best friend, someone that had you hanging onto every syllable, cherishing and adoring her like an absolute queen or a sister. In turn, she doted on you, letting you get away with things that others wouldn’t even be able to suggest.

“You never called me back.” Seokjin walks with you, raising an eyebrow. “Too intimidated too? Don’t worry. For you...I’ll make an exception.” He winks and you twist your face in distaste.

Your best friend scoffs. “She’s not interested.”

His jaw drops. “What?”

Out of nowhere, Hoseok turns from the other hallway and joins, flipping through his literature book. “Y/N. Yoonji. I have this poem you should hear. Listen. The two lovers-”

“Don’t want to hear it.” Your roommate pushes the book away and Hoseok looks up suddenly, appalled that he could become silenced.

Namjoon comes barrelling down the corridor, phone in his hand, almost tripping. “Yoonji!”

“Shut it.”

Jimin pops his head out of the classroom he was studying from to see the commotion. He catches you and Yoonji together and he angelically smiles. His warm brown irises crinkle into half moons, a sweet expression that matches his cute and generous aura. He waves and you smile, waving back to him. Your heart doesn’t flutter anymore at the simple gesture.

Jungkook who was listening to music, looking out the windows, pulls out his earbuds. “Oh. Y/N and Yoonji. It’s not like I was waiting for you two or anything but have you guys seen Taehyung? Again, it’s not like I care but-”

“I don’t know and I don’t care.”

At that exact same time, Taehyung walks in from the outside, wearing his white lab coat and goggles on his head. He scratches his ruffled hair before his eyes move towards Yoonji. Instantly, he looks over to you and smiles. “Yoonji! Y/N!”

Jungkook steps out from the shadows. “Taehyung….” His expression is unreadable.

Taehyung blinks back at him, a turmoil of emotions that he cannot decipher clouds his once clear logic. “Jungkook. I-”

“So we’re just saying each other’s names now?” Your best friend rolls their eyes, pulling you along. “Let’s go.”

All of them come barreling towards the pair of you. Seokjin demands an explanation as to why you won’t call him, Hoseok desperately wants to read out his new poem and he’s already shedding tears, Namjoon wants to ask directions to the cafeteria and if Yoonji wants to join. Taehyung and Jungkook are just staring at each other in complete silence while Jimin watches with his elbow propped on the window ledge, chin rested in his hand, amused at the chaos.

Your roommate screams, tugging you along as you laugh. You turn the corner, disappearing in front of their eyes.

“Where did they go?!”

“Yoonji?! Yoonji!”

“Over there!”

The realization punches Taehyung’s body and soul like a freight train. It comes from nowhere. The enlightenment descends down from the Heavens, blessing his mind. He whips his neck over and gasps.

Jungkook immediately is on guard. “What’s wrong?”

“I know.” The genius mumbles, piecing together all the evidence one by one. Everything he’s heard to everything he’s seen. From the flawlessness of your best friend to how oddly silky the black strands are….as if it were fake.

The one secret of Yoonji. What you’ve been keeping hidden. It all adds up-

Yoonji’s losing her hair.

……..

Why do you love Yoongi?

No one word could ever describe or even begin to delve into it. You can’t write a list either or tens of novels because you would certainly miss something. You don’t want to reduce him to a few traits, to strung syllables spoken on tongue to try to get others to understand. It’s much more complicated than that and a lot simpler as well.

It’s in the way he gazes at you with softened irises, the shade of melted honey. How his calloused fingertips and rough hands lightly skim over your skin, cherishing you. It’s how he can still be mean but never rude, how he scoffs and flicks you, but kisses you gently. There’s something about how he holds your hand, pouts and whines, jabs at the places that tickle - how you would want to spend every second pissing him off or making him piggyback you.

You never knew your best friend could become even more important in your life.

“Why do they never leave us alone?”

“You have no one else to blame but yourself.” You scold him, looking through the crack of the janitor’s closet. He’s hovering above you, two eyes staring out. The both of you quiet down when the calls of your boyfriend’s name come closer until it fades away. “You’re too popular.”

“Trust me. I’m not the one.” He laughs and faces you, cradling your cheeks in his palms.

You beat him to the punch, leaning in to kiss him. Yoongi grins at you, a gummy smile that makes you kiss him again. “Try to be quiet this time.”

Why do you love Yoongi? You just do.

{Epilogue}

The bell chimes as the door is swung open.

“Good morning-” The girl holding the silver scissors stops in her tracks. The black strands of her hair skim over her shoulder, pink apron tied around the curves of her body. “What are you doing here?”

The boy sheepishly smiles and shrugs. “Haircut?”

She points with her comb. “What are those?”

“Just some flowers and chocolates.” Jimin looks down at his hands and he giggles. “Surprise?”

The girl with the pouty lips scoffs, rolling her eyes and acting unfazed. “Set it aside, lover boy.”

Jimin gets into the chair, wearing the black cape. His nose scrunches when the water is sprayed and he feels ticklish when the strands of his locks fall loose in front of his face after being snipped. He doesn’t notice how it’s going however, focused on gazing at the girl in the mirror’s reflection. It takes twenty minutes before it’s over and she rips the cape away, blow drying his hair quickly.

“Done.”

Jimin looks into the mirror and he’s taken back. His trim has turned into an unrecognizable style. His fringe is straightly cut and it goes all the way until the back. It’s at the same length, chopped shortly above his ears - a bowl hair cut.

“I-” Jimin stares and the girl waits for his reaction. “I love it!”

And he really does. Mainly because it’s her who did it for him.

Yoonhee sighs but a tiny smile sneaks up her lips.

[kizardofkoz]

The Eternal Pursuit of Emptiness

There I stood on top of the butte, with the closest of my people, and we humbly looked out over the sprawling desert. The landscape was like pieces of thrown pottery in fantastic and misshapen forms - rich shades of terra cotta, crimson and rust, and obviously, tears couldn’t help but fall, blazing small trails through the dust on my face. I couldn’t believe how fortunate I was. 

I was able to see this fraction of the kaleidoscope of nature. 

To be away with some of my favorite humans while I got to safely leave my absolute dearest ones at home with their grandparents. 

And I soaked in that dry west wind, whipping around us in warm gusts like ocean waves, leaves, and racing thoughts. 

My favorite three: 

1.) I call him my favorite. The man whose ring I wear, the father of my children, he yins my yang, tickles my brain and sometimes, when the timing is just right and we aren’t too tired, it isn’t too late or there isn’t something competing for our time on Netflix, we’ll occasionally play a round of some Chesterfield Rugby (PS - I just did a bit of a dive on some innuendos and my goodness. That is a really fun use of time. I can’t even write some of these but I am literally laughing right now. My mom reads this, you guys. And while I’ve [maybe?] worn her down a little on the curse words, I can’t go all in with the crass. 

Okay, fine. Just one: Harpooning the salty longshoreman. 

Fine, two: Nurtling. (I have no idea.) 

But I also feel it is unfair to not share Taking Grandma to Applebee’s? 

I’ve gotten off topic.

My other two loves on this trip are 

2.) My best girlfriend who I have had the honor of watching go through some of the best and absolute saddest experiences that I have humbly witnessed a human endure. And she navigated it all, and continues to go through life with a steadiness, focus, and motivation that is inspiring, still and sparkling. She has helped me move apartments, paint new walls when we moved into our first house, and paint the baseboards of those same walls on her morning off when we were selling that same house. She is fiercely dependable, loyal, she is the best damn person to travel with as she is equal parts responsible, adventurous and is a Type-A likes to research and plan things kind of gal where I’m more of the Type-B, let’s just dive in and see how we land type. We once held hands and jumped off the neighbors high dive on their dock on a girls lake trip very late one night. We’ve been to countless shows together. Gotten tattoos together. She’s one of the first people to hold my babies after they have been born and I can always count on her to order dessert. Her closet is the kind people pine after and she makes the best damn chocolate chip cookie you’ve ever eaten. She’s also married to my third person. 

3.) He is silly and kind and we have a podcast that we will some day launch, divulging our joint fascination with spooky things that make us light up and nervous laugh and open another beer as he tries to convince me that Yeti’s exist while I try to convince him to sing in church. We once started the idea of a band called “The Huggers and the Cryers” after drinking too much brandy on one of the very few New Years Eve’s that I was neither pregnant nor nursing a baby. Because he and I hug easily and love to cry. 

And don’t worry, I was back at babying the following year. Did you think I was going to go over 2 years and not have another boy? (Spoiler alert - NOT ANY MORE!!! And like, really for real, real. Grateful for IUD’s (and Steve’s eventual vasectomy) and for the four hilarious, adorable, wild, curious, loving and messy pups that we have now. 

But we have to stop. 

It’s like animal print. 

You have to find that fine balance between tasteful and too much. And unfortunately, a lot of times, a person doesn’t realize it is too much animal print, but everyone else does. This is my way of inviting an intervention if you see me starting to itch in the next few months. This is usually when we start Playing with the Box the Kid Came In (you guys, there are so damn many) so, you all have a responsibility, okay? Okay!

I have 100% gotten off topic.

Anyways.

The four of us did a smaller, summit hike on our last morning in Sedona this past month. (All of the couples of our closest tribe were invited to [crash] another couple’s 10-year anniversary trip. Three of us couples were able to swing it. And it was glorious. And very, very dry. And responsibly alcoholy.) 

So I was sitting near the edge of this butte and allowed myself to absorb the moment and then a vision came to me. (Yes, God gives me visions at times. And I also hear God at others. And I know how this makes me sound, and I have also quit caring because I believe if you are blessed enough to experience gifts like these, then you should be brave enough to admit it.) And in my minds’ eye, I saw a big teardrop shape, that was beautifully empty. 

Clear. Serene. Vacant.

And I exhaled and prayed and breathed deeply. I knew what God was telling me. That empty teardrop was empty of all worldly possessions and distractions, and in their absence, full and content. It was God in me. And I saw how I try to fill this tear drop with *all the things*; New siding, new shirts, new speakers and shoes, and magazines and schedules and technology and sports teams and equipment for sports teams and how these things pile on each other - at times inadvertently and other times compulsively and intentionally - and they become the main focus of my mind and my heart until they fill up and pile into this precious teardrop and the only part of the emptiness left is the space between all of the things.

The only part that is open and available for God, for contentment, or peace, is the space between.

The remainder.

And it is jagged and small and inconsistent.

Ironically, I try to complete my life with the things that I think make me happy, fulfilled and satisfied. Yet they are the exact things that end up taking away time, space and energy from the peace and contentment that is only truly felt when there is the empty space and quiet to focus on God.

So I exhaled and released it all. 

And I felt these earthly desires disappear and dissipate as I reclaimed that space, my sacred emptiness, that is so important to me. That is so important to God. And it was so easy, there on top of the warm rocks, accompanied by cactuses and bushes and my people and vortexes.

It is not easy, however, to empty myself in real life.

I tend to equate emptiness with negativity. 

Void of love, experience, calories, energy, connection.

But this spiritual cleansing is what I have needed for so long, and I forget to prioritize it. To protect it. 

This is the emptiness that allows space for *just being*. Breathing. For feeling God’s presence and consequently, the lack of desire for all of the other things that I constantly seek to fill that emptiness. 

A hollow holiness.

An exhale.

In church on Sunday our pastor spoke of spiritual vulnerability and the importance of confession. 

Ho.ly. Shit.

Where does one start?

Selfishness - in my marriage, in my relationships, with my time, with my children, with our money, with friendships, with my food and drink even. 

Materialism - wanting and focusing on all of the tangible, unimportant *things* of the world like new light fixtures, workout clothing, wall paper, throw pillows, hats, patio furniture, the perfect summer jean, the perfect front door mat, more peel and stick wallpaper, vacuums, planters, kids clothing, kids shoes, running shoes, house shoes, *let’s get some shoes*, drapes, ceiling fans, office chairs, boujee hand soaps, expensive skin care, swim suits & pianos. 

Gossip - Why is this so tempting??? I really try not to. I don’t really think I do. Much. And gossip isn’t like what it was when we were in middle or high school. But how tempting is it when there is a conversation about the neighborhood happening and you have hot insider information on why there isn’t a sidewalk on the neighboring street? How does one just go about their day and not share this with the person ringing up their fro-yo? I did not. Yet. Likely.

Lack of faith - Why does God keep expecting me to use faith if we both know I have it and used it last year?

Hypocrisy - Vomit. Where do we begin? Ughhkckhgh.

I would rather listen to podcasts about murder than the bible or deepening my faith. 

I focus way too much on my body and physical appearance.

I focus too much on how I want everybody to like me and if I feel like someone isn’t a Kiley-person, I obsess over it and get weird and needy and in my head and I shouldn’t really care if this person four rings out of my circle really cares about me and finds me kind, selfless and charming. But hopefully she thinks I’m a good dresser? *I AM ROLLING MY OWN EYES SO HARD RIGHT NOW*

I focus way too much on money and how we don’t have *enough-ish* even though we absolutely, 100% do have enough (non-ish) and will I ever be content and secure in this area?

I focus on what other people are doing with their time, money, lives and am left feeling jealous, angry and exhausted.

I focus on all of the things that take up residency in my teardrop, and I pray for God to take them away. For God to please forgive me for putting so much energy toward the unimportant instead of focusing the things God really wants for me:

Love. 

Self Acceptance.

Peace. 

Creativity. 

Meaningful relationships.

Connection with the divine.

Connection with my children.

More God.

Less stuff.

Less stress.

Emptiness. 

Contentment.

Enlightenment.

*Someone spent some time in the desert, can you tell?*

So I confess all of these things, yet again, to God, and to you all. And I pray that God will help me remember my desire for emptiness. To remember the importance, the value and treasure of emptying myself so I can fill it up with God’s love. With contentment. With peace.

So I can have extra time and energy to focus on the important things.

Like the eternal pursuit of emptiness.

Or for my husband and I to get to know each other better. In the biblical sense.

A terrifying and beautiful hike that sealed friendships in gold and red rock dust. We followed this 3-4 hour hike with breakfast and beers at a local, hole in the wall diner and it was my favorite meal of the entire weekend. And cheapest. I JUST REMEMBERED I HAVEN’T UNPACKED MY CRYSTALS YET!!!

Here’s my people. The hubs, and best friends Nicole & Brian. I don’t care if they don’t want their names shared. We have a constant google calendar invite to go to visit Big Sur every fall. We just keep putting it off but it makes me smile when I have to go to October in my calendar and book something.:) Some day.

I did yoga on the top of this thing like a gosh damn stereotypical basic B. But it was wonderful. But I also felt if I looked up during any balancing poses I would fall over, roll off the top and die. So I decided to look down a live. I’m a mom now so I make different decisions than I used to. 

This is just an awesome photo of summer. This was a couple weekends ago. We live down the street from the guy who used to be our entertainment lawyer for our old band. Now we have playdates on Friday nights and order pizza and drink craft beefs and our kids play together. And it’s awesome.

And this is just Keps eating pizza while getting wet from the general mist of the hose and water fights going on around him. I love this photo so much.

Surfs up, friends.