#the fear of simply walking in the hallway in high school had carried into just being on campus in university and now

[loveephia]

SUNFLOWER | kita shinsuke

content: (🦷) tooth-rotting fluff, high school (from first years) to adult life with kita, real life scenarios used, marriage toward the end, mildly inspired by "the lady, or the tiger?"

⚠ warning/s: none.

note: i heavily suggest you listen to pasilyo by sun-kissed lola while reading.

kita shinsuke can still remember the day he met you. it was on a hot summer day in inarizaki, and the class had just finished planting their seeds at the field for a project. as a reward for their hard work, the teacher had carried out a cooler full of different flavored popsicles. the class hurriedly washed their hands in the outdoor sink and went to go grab themselves one. kita was one of the only people who didn't rush. instead, he peacefully and thoroughly washed the dirt off his hands.

he felt a presence nearby, and as curiousity got the best of him, he looked around only to see that by the corner of the hallway, peeked a girl from the same year as him; you.

a quick spark was what kita felt the moment you two made eye contact, and it looks like you felt it too, judging by the way you hesitated to make your way over to the sink.

you carefully walked on the tiles so as to not slip from the puddles of water. you went to the opposite side of kita and washed your hands, not daring to utter a word.

in every breath kita took, he only looked at you.

"what did you plant?" you ask, voice fearful for the awkward tension to worsen, but your desire to know kita was stronger. he looks taken aback, not expecting you to talk to actually talk to him. "a sunflower."

like the name, it is a flower that grows only to face the sun. they are his grandma yumi's favourite. not only are they a delight to plant, but oh, does she love to snack on the seeds as well. kita couldn't help but come to love the flower, too.

"oh, i planted the same thing!" you exclaimed, thankful to find someone with the same taste in flowers as you. kita notices a shift in your demeanor. you're relaxed now. he smiles softly.

as time went by, you and kita had grown close. you became a friend, a really dear one at that. he treasured you. as sensitive as you can be, kita was always there to hear your cries. he took care of you as you took care of him.

kita can still remember the day he fell for you, too. it was only until the third year that he realized how deeply he did so.

after the long break has come to an end, he sees you at the inarizaki entrance. the sun bounced off of your silky hair, and the shine made your eyes have a glass-like effect. you were glowing. simply put, it was enough to make kita's heart race. "oh, shin! you're finally here!" you cheerfully said, rushing over to greet the boy with such enthusiasm.

his eyes land on your ID. y/n l/n.

kita hopes that one day, he will be able to share his surname with you.

he likes to think that you are the sun; whom he looks forward to seeing every morning. you're such a bright girl; so much so that you've blinded him with your charm. how dare you do such a thing?

he is the sunflower. and like the sunflower he's planted in his first year, his feelings bloomed.

kita remembered those days in his youth, as they are dear memories that he holds close to his heart.

and now, kita will never forget today as he didn't with the former.

you with your flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes of triumph; almost hasty to walk down the aisle as the radiant white dress dragged behind you beautifully. truly an incomparable sight. kita's whole being, so proud and glad that he couldn't help but let his eyes well up with salty tears.

the priest advances the couple and makes you both husband and wife before bare witnesses. the joyous shouts from both families had been blurred out, and so did the wild ringing of the clanging church bells. kita could only focus on you; his sun, his wife, and his everything.

you both had walked away together upon the path of petals, followed by the tremendous cheers of the hilarious multitude.

his favorite prayer, kept dear and true every day; is you.

© lowercase intended | loveephia

[mychemikuromance]

...

[thebeautyoffanfics]

hii i know you might be busy because of school so take your time! Could i please get a Dead!Mitsuba,,,Dead!Hanako,,,Dead!Tsukasa,, x reader (if you dont want to write for them characters right now than you can choose others i dont mind <3) where they think reader is dying??Any situation is fine :)

dead!mitsuba sousuke x gn!reader, dead!hanako x gn!reader, dead!tsukasa yugi x gn!reader

a/n: ahh thank you for being patient;;! And of course!! Thank you so much for requesting, and I hope this turns out alright! And I’m so sorry for the time it took;;

aahhh i constantly remember how difficult starting and ending fics are,,, sorry if it sounds awkward ;v;; i’m also sorry if this isn’t dramatic enough- i’m trying to get these out, but i’m in a funky phase, as i haven’t written in a while;;

warnings: vomit (in Hanako’s), blood (in Tsukasa’s)

word count: 2,765

mitsuba sousuke <3

It wasn’t uncommon for Mitsuba to watch you do everyday school things. He’d follow you around, playing it off as if he wasn’t. Even now, he sat under a tree, watching you assist one of the clubs.

You were always entertaining… or maybe, you were simply enough to captivate his attention in anything you did? Your arm held high as you caught the baseball tossed your way, grinning at the person who threw it. Though not fond of you smiling like that at another person, the glance you gave Mitsuba practically made up for it- though he still glanced away, as if he wasn’t looking in the first place.

Moments passed, before he peered back up at you.

Your smiling face, as you turned to speak to one of the club members- his eyes darting over at hearing someone yell your name.

“(Y/N)!! WATCH OUT-”

And, eyes back over at you, as the undeniable sound of a baseball smacking against a skull. Mitsuba froze up, only being able to watch as you toppled to the ground. The club members instantly panicked, and Mitsuba did the same- both he and the members running over to you, students shaking you as if that would do anything.

“Idiots!! Don’t shake them-!”

Unfortunately, all of his yelling was futile. Mitsuba was dead, after all, and he was sure that you were too. A bump already formed on your head, as you peeked your eyes open, reaching for your head. Your fingers grazed against the bump, then quickly retracted, as tears filled your eyes. Shouts from the club members to get an adult rang out, as Mitsuba placed his hands on your shoulder, shaking almost as violently as you were. You closed your eyes, shaking as you reached to your head again, only to retract once more.

“(Y-Y/N), it’s okay- a-are you okay?” Mitsuba stuttered out, trying not to get emotional. It was only an injury, right… you were fine. You had to be. You’d be fine. Right?

But, when you only shook your head, squeezing your eyes tighter, he couldn’t help the pure fear that filled his entire body. His eyes grew watery when a teacher finally arrived, already on the phone with, he hoped, the paramedics.

Too much time passed, Mitsuba thought. Too much time spent grasping your hand, tears threatening to spill, as the teacher asked you too many questions. And, the absolute dread at the teacher’s reaction to everything- hearing you attempt to explain that everything went black for a moment- seeing the teachers eyes widen a bit, then eyebrows furrow in frustration. Mitsuba wanted to scream. To yell at whoever threw the ball- he didn’t care if it was a mistake. To yell at the paramedics- it was an emergency! Why couldn’t the emergency vehicle get there sooner??

Finally, they arrived. Paramedics picking you up, Mitsuba following alongside them until you sat in the vehicle. His eyes flickering from person to person, then back at you, until they shut the doors and drove off.

The next few days were like a living hell for Mitsuba. No- he wasn’t living. It was as if he had been doomed to suffer for all eternity. He shook every time he walked past your homeroom, peering inside as he checked for you. Peering over at your desk, praying that he wouldn’t see flowers sitting there. The lack of flowers was the only hope Mitsuba had left. The lack of rumors, the lack of Sakura one day opening up the broadcast with “(Y/N)-san of the baseball field.” It sounded ridiculous, sure, but he couldn’t help it…

Yes, though he’d never say it to anyone- maybe you, but that was a stretch- Mitsuba had never been so worried… he thought, as he finally saw you again, clinging to you as if you were as fragile as glass- that your death would probably affect him worse than his own did. Because, a world without you, would officially be a world without life… without you, Mitsuba knew he could no longer even feel alive.

“You idiot… I hate you so much,” His voice broke slightly, as you wrapped your arms back around him. Much like the moment when he was so sure you wouldn’t show back up, tears threatened to spill. “I missed you. Dummy. I missed you so much-”

hanako <3

There was a part of Hanako slightly paranoid about your death. Not overly so- not in a way that would hinder you. Simply, in the sense that he would risk his well-being to protect you. Yet, there were many situations where he was… helpless.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to enter the girl’s bathroom, though it was almost always to visit Hanako. So, his face instinctively lit up when he saw you stumble into the bathroom- though he felt the color drain from his face when he saw your shakey figure. The color was drained from your face as well, he noted, as he quickly floated over to you.

“(Y/N)?? What’s wrong?” He questioned, pushing the hair from your face, getting a good look at your face. He was already positive you didn’t feel well. He just needed to know how- then, he could help. Surely, he could do something.

“I… I dunno- my stomach hurts, haha… really badly.”

Before Hanako could question further- where did it hurt, what kind of pain- you stumbled into a stall, spilling any contents that were in your stomach into the toilet. Instinctively, Hanako cringed a bit- quickly, he shook the queasy feeling he got off, and stepped over to you, rubbing your back carefully.

When you looked up at Hanako, tears running down your face, he instantly feared the worst.

“Please get a teacher, or Yashiro, or- someone,” You told him, arms securing themselves around your stomach. Hanako quickly nodded, rushing as quickly down the hallway as he could. He wasn’t a doctor, for Pete’s sake- not even close to it. So, he practically flung himself into Yashiro’s classroom, shouting at her from the doorway.

“YASHIRO, (Y/N)’S IN A LOT OF PAIN!!”

Hanako could only ring his hands nervously for a moment, as Yashiro asked the teacher to be excused, floating anxiously beside her for a moment, then rushing back to you when she explained that she was going to get a teacher- thinking for a split moment, as he explained to her that you already threw up. To that, Yashiro nodded, telling Hanako that she’d be sure to make sure your guardians were contacted.

Once he reentered the bathroom, Hanako’s nerves were at a new worst state. His eyes landed on you, practically curled up next to the toilet, sniffling to yourself- he was sure he never wanted to help anyone so badly. He was sure that, if he could, he would take your pain.

“Yashiro’s getting a teacher, (Y/N). A-are you feeling any better?” You shook your head, glancing up at the ghost boy. Your face was slightly flushed with what he was sure was a fever, and your eyebrows were furrowed in clear desperation and pain. All he wanted to do was help.

“I feel like I’m dying…”

Dying. The word “dying” stuck out, striking at Hanako’s nerves as if they weren’t already being tested. You felt like you were dying? Were you?? He sat in front of you, hands shaking violently as he attempted to seem calm. You couldn’t die. No- no, the teacher would come. You would live, wouldn’t you? You weren’t going to die… right?

“It’s okay, (Y/N)- you’ll be okay,” He spoke, rubbing your shoulders gently and placing a soft kiss to your forehead, half trying to convince himself. As he continued to do so, the teacher entered the bathroom, knocking on the stall- though the door creaked open, as you hadn’t had the time to shut and lock it. It wasn’t as if you needed to- the nausea was simply overwhelming.

“(Y/N)? Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m having really bad stomach pains… I threw up- it hurts to talk,” You muttered, glancing up at the teacher, giving them the same pained look you gave Hanako. They crouched next to you, placing a hand against your forehead, then nodding.

“Where does it hurt?”

Clearly not wanting to move, you sniffled, forcing yourself to sit back just enough to motion around your lower-right abdomen. As if it clicked, the teacher nodded, letting you fall back into the position you were previously in. “I have no room to say for sure, but it does sound like appendicitis. Your parents are on the way, and I’ll let them know to take you over to the hospital.”

Your grip on yourself tightened a bit, panic showing up in your face. Seeing that panic, Hanako could only fear the worst. He knew vaguely of appendicitis, sure- how likely was someone to die from it-?? If your appendix ruptured, he knew it was dire. Did it? How long did it take for an appendix to rupture? Before he could even acknowledge the thoughts running through his mind, the teacher lifted you up, carrying you out of the room.

Though Hanako followed, he was left standing at the doors of the school when your guardian carried you away. The final bell rang, all of the students finally emptying out of the school, as the car you were in drove away. He watched until it was out of sight, silently noting that it must have been the direction of the hospital.

The first few days were practically torture for Hanako. Yashiro’s comments didn’t help- her saying that you went into surgery only worsened his fears. During his lifetime, surgery was… unpleasant, to say the least. They could do it- you could certainly have your appendix removed, but- but what if something went wrong? How had things changed since he lived…? Had it ruptured, were you going to live? What if you died during recovery?

He couldn’t stand it. No, until several weeks passed, Hanako was a nervous wreck. The relief that washed through him when he saw you walking through the school halls was almost comical- that is, if he wasn’t clinging to you like he really had almost lost you.

“(Y/N)... I’m so glad to see you again.”

“Hanako, I’m so glad to see you too. Sorry for scaring you like that… but thanks for sticking with me.”

Of course, Hanako could only accept the praise, unsure how to word “I stuck with you because I didn’t want you to die alone.”

tsukasa yugi <3

Tsukasa, most were sure, wouldn’t necessarily… care if someone around him died. No, he probably loved the pained expressions of someone taking their last breaths. If it was a messy death? It would be better for him, right? Screams of pain, tears streaming down someone’s face, blood splattered around. Natsuhiko half joked that it would be a dream for Tsukasa, no matter if everyone else considered it a nightmare. Sakura remained quiet, shaking her head slightly. You… disagreed, as if protecting Tsukasa. Maybe he wouldn’t… as eerie as your boyfriend could be at times, you loved him nonetheless- and you were sure you didn’t fall for someone who would… enjoy…… others’ pain…?

Hm…

Either way! You were sure you didn’t fall for someone who would enjoy your pain!!!

Those thoughts were just that- little thoughts you had. Thrown into a few conversations between the fellow people who frequented the broadcasting room. Nothing you really wanted to prove, you know? No, you’d rather assume it, and not go through anything particularly painful to prove it.

However, those weren’t necessarily your thoughts as you tripped over the rug, one of Sakura’s tea sets in your hands. The hot tea in them went flying, landing all over you- but, that wasn’t really your focus, as you landed with a harsh thud. The glass cracked underneath you, the uncomfortable sound of shattering filling the room- accompanied by your scream- at first being echoed because of the fright of following, but being finished off because of the feeling of glass splintering you as if you were the fragile object.

Your scream ended in a cry, tears quickly clouding your vision as the sharp pain coursed through every spot the glass had harmed. Sakura’s eyes went wide, and she stood up, aiming to walk over and help you- Natsuhiko did the same, exclaiming your name once he saw you began to fall, a bit quicker than Sakura was- Mitsuba could only stare, as if his fight or flight was activated. Before any of them could reach you, Tsukasa was there, shouting your name and cupping your face.

Tsukasa wasn’t bothered by the blood, as if he could be bothered by any blood, pure worry crossing his face. It was a rare sight- Tsukasa genuinely concerned- but it wasn’t like seeing a bloody (Y/N) on the floor was exactly common. It was no one's focus, as the other three finally were gathered around you. Protectively, nearly forgetting your injuries, Tsukasa held your head to his chest- glaring at the others.

“Go get a nurse!! (Y/N)’s bleeding-!”

Natsuhiko nodded, rushing off, as Mitsuba glanced around panickedly- Sakura pushed Tsukasa away from you slightly, as if to let him know to be careful. His hands wandered to your arms, holding them carefully, peering at the glass, then up at the tears streaming down your face.

“Don’t pull out the glass. It could make the bleeding worse, and we can’t be sure where all the glass has landed. Especially in their arms.”

Tsukasa nodded a bit, glancing at his hand when one of your tears landed on it. He ignored the blood dripping onto his palms, quietly licking the tear that fell onto the back of his hand. That wasn’t enough to distract you though- he half hoped he could take away your pain, but was discouraged to only be met with your shaky sobs. His eyes wandered along the shards sticking out of your arms. Dangerously close to places he knew they couldn’t scratch- an artery, he knew, would be beyond dangerous… what if, when the glass gets pulled out, you’re met with the spewing blood that comes with a punctured artery? Looking around at the blood dripping everywhere- were you… dying?

Tsukasa froze up a bit. (Y/N)? Dying?

Well, he was dead… Amane was dead. Mitsuba was dead. But… what would happen when you died?

Would you become a ghost? Or would death be the final separation for the two of you- would Tsukasa be trapped on earth, while you moved on to whatever afterlife there was??

“(Y/N) can’t die,” was his only thought, as Natsuhiko returned, gently explaining that he was going to carry you to the nurse- then, your guardian could come at take you to the hospital. However, once Natsuhiko’s arms wrapped around your torso, Tsukasa grabbed Natsuhiko’s closest arm. “I- I can take care of them. I’ll carry, (Y/N).” “Runt, you’re a ghost. For real, don’t screw around. Let me carry them, hurry now,” He spoke, lifting you up. Tsukasa stood, balling his hands up slightly nervously. Oh, a nervous Tsukasa… it was also such a strange sight- watching Natsuhiko speedwalk with you in his arms, Tsukasa floating alongside them. In fact, Tsukasa remained with the both of you- holding your arms carefully, until you were entering the car, towels placed around you to keep the blood from spilling anywhere. He watched the car drive off, unsure how to process anything.

The next several days were… difficult for Tsukasa. He wasn’t sure how to deal with it, yet he found himself peering into your classroom to see if flowers sat on your desk. He found himself paying closer attention to the rumors spread- listening carefully for anything that sounded similar to you. He wandered the halls, as if he suddenly lost his purpose- keeping an extra eye out for a person, or ghost, with cuts from shards of glass littering their body.

Tsukasa was his… clingy self when you returned. He hugged you as tightly as he could, not wanting to release even when you warned him about your still healing arms. He placed countless kisses to your face, giggling out that he was so sure you were going to die. Even when you questioned his thoughts, Tsukasa continued on, kissing the scars, scabs, and few stitches on your body. Yes, he really was glad that you were alive. Be it for selfish reasons or selfless ones, he couldn’t be sure- he just knew he was glad.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff X Reader Hogwarts AU Oneshot

Hey everyone! As WandaVision has me completely in love with Wanda Maximoff, I've managed to write a little Harry Potter-inspired oneshot. 

Ready on AO3 too

Gif is not mine.

It was an understatement to say that you were late. Running through the now-empty corridors of the castle, you hid behind a pillar when you thought you heard the voice of the Ravenclaw's snitch monitor nearby, but you let out a sigh of relief when you noticed that it was only ghosts chattering away during their wanderings.

You ran toward the transfiguration room, believing that if you were lucky, you would be able to sneak behind the cages to the last empty chair and pretend that you hadn't missed almost half of the first class. You believed that Tony Stark would have been the inconvenience knowing all that he usually is, and that Professor Minerva would not have noticed your absence.

When you finally reached the classroom, you wiped some sweat from your forehead as you leaned against the wall, trying to look out the window. You noticed that almost all the students were writing something in their notebooks, and you tried not to think too much about the importance of that content, ignoring the feeling that it was the kind of thing that would be on the final exams.

You raised your hand toward the doorknob slowly, thinking of the best way to open the door without making too much noise, but then someone turned the lock on the other side, and you almost fell back in surprise as you saw the door open.

- I'm glad you decided to join us, Miss Y/L/N. - said Professor Minerva sternly.

You felt your knees tremble with fear at the intensity of her gaze, and your cheeks heat up when you hear giggles coming from inside the room.

- I'm sorry, professor. I didn't hear the alarm clock. - You said, looking at the floor. Minerva let out an exclamation of disapproval and let you into the room.

- I will debilitate five points of your house, for this, miss. Don't let this happen again. - She said simply, and you entered.

When you sat in the back of the room, in one of the few empty chairs, you did your best to avoid all the curious and judgmental glances your classmates threw at you. Only when Professor Minerva walked back between the tables you looked around the room, your gaze locking on the one person who could completely take your attention away.

Wanda Maximoff was a student of the same year as yours, being part of the Slytherin house. You could say that you had a friendly relationship, because you knew the same people, and especially, you were very good friends with Pietro, her twin brother. You couldn't precisely define the nature of your relationship with Wanda however. In your first two years at Hogwarts you sat together on the train, and during the breaks, almost exclusively due to the company of Steve Rogers, who was a mutual friend and a year older, who used to act like the older brother of several people. When Steve graduated, Pietro became the only bond that justified your socializing with Wanda, but even though they were brothers they didn't hang out all the time, especially after Wanda started dating a Ravenclaw boy named Vis, who you didn't like, and Pietro started dating, well, several people.

The thing was that you never developed a friendship with Wanda, purely because she made you nervous enough that you couldn't engage in conversation with her without being around other people. You were a complete mess around her, notable only to your best friend, Natasha, who was happy to torment you for your longtime crush on the witch. During the third and fourth year, you considered confessing to Wanda how you felt, but like a bucket of cold water, Vis came along. He was a nice guy, and smart, and you were in the same chess club. But all the niceness completely disappeared when you watched Vis invite Wanda to the winter ball. The whole dynamic of your relationship with Wanda has changed since she started dating the young ravenclaw. You tried to suppress your feelings as much as possible, and you were constantly irritated and clumsy in the presence of Vis, who seemed to be always clinging to Wanda, so you started avoiding both of them. If Wanda interpreted that your sudden hostility was because you didn't like her, she didn't speak up, and just began to respect the distance you put between you two.

You were in this almost hostile territory for all of fifth grade and sixth grade, until you invited Jessica Jones to be your date to Professor Stark's Christmas party during seventh grade, which set off a series of interesting events in your life.

First the Starks threw the best Christmas parties, and although Tony Stark was annoying and overbearing, he was your long-time friend, and he was very happy to invite all his friends to his father's party, Professor Howard Stark, who taught Magic Mechanics. You weren't even in Professor Stark's class, but you were happy to hear that he organized a party for everyone who stayed at the castle during the vacation period, and many students skipped their way home just to attend, since Howard's parties were famous in school.

And then you invited your friend Jessica Jones, someone you had a lot of fun with, but wasn't really romantic at all. In fact, you dared her to take you to the party, because she wouldn't admit the open crush she had on her colleague Trish Walker, a very pretty blonde girl who seemed to be the only person who could get around Jessica's temper. You were happy to tease Jessica all night about her crush, until the brunette took too much fruity punch and finally built up the courage to talk to Trish, leaving you laughing at your desk as you watched her trip over her own feet as she led the blonde out of the room.

When you felt a hand on your shoulder, you imagined it was Natasha, finally finding you in the midst of so many people, but the vision that hit you took your breath away.

You knew that Wanda Maximoff was beautiful. It was a fact that you grumbled against your pillow in irritation when you saw her kissing Vis on the cheek during breaks between classes. And then you saw her, her hair arranged in a high bun, her face powdered with makeup that made her even more beautiful, and her long eyelashes flashing at you through emerald orbs. Damn those eyes. There was a lot to take in in the figure in front of you. Her stupidly beautiful face, her lips slightly stained with lipstick because she had a habit of biting them when nervous, or her partially exposed collarbone from the cut of her blouse. You thought you had forgotten how to breathe.

- Hey. - Wanda greeted you with a lopsided smile. You blinked a few times.

- H-hi Wanda! - you replied after being silent for a moment. You looked away quickly. - Nice party, right?

- I think. - She replied and you noticed the two empty glasses in her hand. You abruptly adjusted your posture, your cheeks flushing slightly, to step back and excuse Wanda so she could fill the glasses with fruit punch. Of course, she was only talking to you because you were in front of the drinks table, preventing her from getting something for herself and Vis.

- Here, sorry about that. - You apologized after moving completely away from the drinking table, Wanda blinked slightly in confusion, and seemed to remember that she was carrying the glasses only at that moment.

- Oh, yeah, right. - she grumbled as she approached the bucket of ponge. - Just gonna grab something for me and Vis.

- Yeah, I figure that. - You replied harshly, looking down at your own shoes.

Wanda raised her eyebrows at your aggressiveness, and she ventured to ask.

- Do you have any problem with Vis? - said the sorceress, now holding the two full glasses in both hands. You rolled your eyes impatiently, which seemed to irritate her.

What difference does that make? - You replied feeling jealousy fill your chest - We are not friends so what I think doesn't really matter.

You regretted the aggressiveness of your words the moment you said them, and you felt even worse when you looked into Wanda's tearful eyes. But you didn't have time to apologize, because the girl just turned her back on you, going back in the same direction she had come from.

Honestly, you wanted to dig a hole in the ground and disappear. Or maybe bang your head against the wall, believing that your only natural talent was to ruin exactly every conversation you had with Wanda. You thought it best to try to find your date, to say goodbye before heading back to the communal room, so you walked in the opposite direction of Wanda.

You searched for Jessica for several minutes. The girl seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth, and then as you strolled down the empty third floor corridors you found her in a compromising position to say the least.

Feeling your cheeks getting very hot, you watched with a mixture of embarrassment, surprise, and horror as your longtime friend knelt down, her head tucked between the spread legs of Trish Walker who was clutching her skirt with one hand as she threw her head against the wall, her eyes closed. For merlin sake. You stumbled backwards, your eyes wide. They were too distracted to notice you, and it took only a sobbing groan from Trish to break your shock. You turned around quickly, shaking your head to try to push the images from your mind.

As you walked down the halls of the third floor, intending to go back to the party and drink as much smuggled alcohol as you could find to erase the image of Trish and Jessica fucking, you bumped into someone.

Wanda's lipstick was much more smudged than before, and her shirt was slightly wrinkled. And then you knew immediately what she was doing in that hallway. Frowning at her, you noticed that she looked embarrassed at having bumped into someone, but you didn't let her speak, rushing to let out an impatient exclamation and leaning against the wall.

- Good Merlin, everyone decided to have sex today. - You sighed, closing your eyes, but opened them the same second the recent images hit you back, watching Wanda stare at you in confusion. She seemed to hesitate between walking away and talking to you, but you were glad when she turned her body in your direction.

- Who's having sex? - she asked with a mixture of curiosity and concern on her face. You let out a low laugh, and let your body slide against the wall until you sat down on the floor. Wanda copied your movement on the opposite wall, and you were facing each other, both sitting in the empty hallway.

- I just saw first hand two colleagues fucking in the hallway. - You grumbled, not saying you had seen your friends. You weren't the type to spread rumors. - I think I'm traumatized for life.

Wanda fought back a smile, clearly still upset with you for the discussion earlier. You swallowed hard, knowing that you had your chance to apologize now.

- That sucks. - Wanda said simply, and you stared at her.

It took a few seconds, but you finally spoke:

- I'm sorry about earlier. I was just being mean, for no reason apparently.

The girl seemed surprised, but then she gave you a short smile. You began to play with your shoelaces when you were silent for a moment.

- I wasn't having sex. - Wanda whispered so softly that you blinked a few times to make sure you heard something. You looked at her in confusion, but she looked away, her cheeks slightly pink. - Vis asked if he could take me to my room, I didn't feel like partying after our discussion. - She explained, still not looking at you. - He said he wanted to give me a proper goodnight kiss.

You felt your stomach drop. Swallowing all your jealousy, you let out a grumble, signaling that you understood what Wanda had said. You looked back down at your own sneakers, and couldn't notice the witch analyzing every micro-expression on your face, her heart beating uncompensated at the confession.

- I didn't want to kiss him like that. - She said at last, and feeling her gaze on you, you reciprocated.

Although you tried to hold it in, you couldn't help but let a shy smile slip between your lips. You looked away again, biting your lips to keep from smiling at the sorceress's newly confessed words.

You were silent for a moment again, and feeling that you finally had a chance to talk to Wanda, about anything, you decided to stick to the subject. Letting your spontaneity guide your speech, you found yourself asking:

- Did you ever want to kiss someone like that?

Wanda looked surprised, and slightly embarrassed judging by the slight blush on her cheeks. You hurried to explain the reason for the question, not wanting the girl to feel pressured to answer.

- I just mean like, how people are sure of that? - You said, and suddenly your anxieties and fears were all on edge and you found yourself sharing about it. - It’s just I've never done anything like that. I was never able to tell for sure if i wanted to kiss someone or if i was just doing because it was what everyone was expecting.

The sorceress seemed to absorb your words carefully. She rested her face on her knees as she looked at you intently.

- Not even with Jessica? Or Bucky? - Wanda asked and you just nodded.  

- I had a lot of fun with Bucky, I really did. He was sweet and funny, and really cute. - You began to explain, while imitating Wanda's position, leaning your head on the arm above your knee. - But then we got to the Yule Ball together and everyone around us were making out and he just said we should try that too. And I was angry because… - You shook your head slightly to stop yourself from confessing exactly why you were upset that night. - Well, things i guess. I just know that in one second we were dancing and then he asked me if we could kiss and I didn’t want to let him down so I said yes.

- Was that your first kiss? - Wanda asked curiously.

- Not really. - You grumbled. - My first kiss was kind of a shitty situation. I was 9, This girl from muggles school locked me in an empty room and said she was going to show me how her father charmed women. She forced a kiss while I was too shocked to react.

- I’m sorry. - Wanda said sincerely, and you just shrugged.

- It 's okay. I guess she liked me but she had too much trauma to show that in a healthy way. - You said looking at Wanda, who frowned, disagreeing.

- This does not justify her behavior. - She retorted and you just bit your lips.

- You’re probably right. - You grumbled, and looked away from her quickly, building up the courage to confess again. - After Bucky, I thought that maybe I only liked girls and that’s why the kiss felt weird. But then Helen Cho kissed me on New Year.

- Wait, what? - Wanda suddenly exclaimed, and you looked at her curiously. Ashamed of her own reaction, Wanda looked away. - Sorry, I didn't know about this. - You let out a short laugh.

- Well, it was holiday break. I went to Steve’s in New Year. His family had a small reunion and Cho was invited.

- Oh, I remember this. - Wanda said. - My brother and I went back to Sokovia that year, so we couldn’t join the meeting.

- Well, you missed my big kiss, miss Maximoff. - You joked but Wanda didn't smile, an expression you couldn't quite decipher. You decided it was best to keep telling your story. - Anyway, Helen is a real flirt. She joked about not having anyone to kiss at midnight and it took her two drinks to ask me. I’m pretty sure it was only after Thor said no to her.

Wanda laughed softly, attentive to your monologue.

- I said yes because I wanted to be sure that I only liked girls. - You confessed, shaking your shoulders slightly. - I talked to Nat about this and she said the only way to be sure was if i felt that kissing girls was just naturally better than kissing  boys, and I just went for it.

- And? - Wanda asked curiously.

- The fucking same. - You confessed, letting out a sad sigh. - I just felt I was doing because everyone else was doing and I could really feel a connection to her. I simply didn’t like her, you know? Like, everyone describes these butterflies and nervousness, and I thought I was feeling it too. But then I realized that I was just anxious about it being a new experience, and being in public. I wasn't nervous about the person I was kissing, it was just too frustrating.

- Is different with Jessica isn’t it? - Wanda asked after a moment, you raised your eyebrow at the almost hurt expression she had on her face, but she looked away from you quickly.

- Yes, but not because of what you’re thinking. - You said. - I’m not in love with her, you know. Things are way less complicated than that.

A short smile escaped Wanda's lips at her confession, but she did not interrupt you.

- We have a lot of things in common. Especially personality traits. - You explained, smoothing yourself better against the wall. - We become friends quite easily. And for some reason I always thought she was hot.

Wanda's gaze fell from yours immediately, but you didn't notice the sad posture she assumed.

- What I mean is, I was attracted to her after we became friends. Then I realized that it was supposed to be like this. I like to have emotional bonds before intimacy affection. - You explained. - She was my first enjoyable kiss, I guess. We kissed a couple times on truth or dare games, but eventually we both realized that even though we had chemistry, we didn’t work as a couple. Manly because we aren’t in love with each other.

- I thought you two were dating. - Wanda suddenly confessed, the same indecipherable expression on her face as before. You looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

- I never really dated anyone, Wanda. - You explained. - I guess that’s the real reason on why i was so chocked to find people having sex on a corridor.

Wanda let out a short laugh, and you tried not to blush so much at the sound.

- Anyone would be surprised. Virgin or not. - She said, looking at you tenderly.

You fell into a comfortable silence again. You began to play with the button on your costume, before you felt Wanda's foot tap against yours. She had stretched out her legs, and slowly, both her feet touched the soles of yours. You smiled at her.

- I would like it if we were friends. - she confessed in a whisper.

You shook your head, smiling at her with amusement and affection.

- Who said we weren't friends? - You retorted, and a smile filled the other girl's face.

Before either of you could say anything else, noises of footsteps and voices could be heard in the hallway around the corner from where you were sitting. You exchanged a complicit look with Wanda, and you crawled side by side to the edge of the wall, to hear what seemed to be an argument.

Bruce Banner and Tony Stark were arguing about something in that hallway. They seemed slightly intoxicated judging by the slurred words and unbalanced postures, but the distance and the loud party noise made it impossible for you and Wanda to hear exactly what they were arguing about. They stood like that for a few seconds, until suddenly, Tony pushed Bruce against the corridor wall, and the two of them locked into a passionate kiss.

Your jaw dropped in shock, and before you could even process what had just happened, you watched in horror as Bruce took charge of the kiss, pushing Tony against the wall only to kneel in front of the other boy, beginning to unbuckle Tony's belt. You let out an exclamation and before you could make any more noise, Wanda pulled you back into the hallway, one hand covering your mouth as she laughed at your expressions.

- Okay, I admit, that was traumatic. - She said between short bursts of laughter, removing the hand covering her mouth. You laughed breathlessly, extremely aware of the other girl's proximity.

- I'm starting to think someone put sex potion to the punch. - You tried to joke, but then Wanda realized how close you were and stopped smiling.

- That would be a problem. - she whispered. - I had two cups of that.

You swallowed hard, using all your willpower to keep your gaze on Wanda's eyes, even though your brain commanded you to look at her lips.

- Is that making you feel horny too? - You answer in the same tone and then you watch Wanda stare unashamedly at your mouth. You feel a strange tingling sensation at the tip of your stomach and try to ignore the uneven beating of your heart.

But the moment is completely broken when you hear a loud groaning noise, which did not come from any of you. You shake your head, and as you realize exactly where it is coming from you cover your face with both hands.

- Merlin, what the hell was that. - You grumble and rush to cover your ears as the noises continue. Wanda starts to laugh.

- I think that's our clue to leave. - She comments, and it takes a moment for you to realize that she has moved away, already standing up and away from you.

She reaches out to help you up, and you ignore the butterflies in your stomach when she keeps holding your hand as you run down the hall in the opposite direction from where you were standing.

Concentrating too much on the feel of Wanda's hand in yours, you don't realize where she is leading you until you are almost there. You give her a gentle tug on her hand to stop her, and Wanda looks at you curiously.

- Why are you taking me to the common room? - you question curiously, slightly disappointed that the evening was coming to an end.

- Because it's quite late. - she says as if it were obvious, and you raise an eyebrow. - I need to check on Pietro before going to bed, but that does not mean I can't take you to the dorm.

- What a gentlewoman, you turn out to be, Miss Maximoff. - you joked, and Wanda laughed lightly.

You started walking again next. When you finally reached the entrance to the common room, you turned to Wanda, and found her already looking at you.

- Here we are. - You said softly.

- Here we are. - she replied in the same tone.

A moment passed with just the two of you smiling at each other, until you laughed and looked away, nervousness taking over your body.

- I will see you at class tomorrow, Wanda. - You finally said, letting go of her hands. Wanda seemed to consider something and then she moved closer to you, making you hold your breath.

- Goodnight, Y/N. - She whispered before depositing a long kiss on your cheek. You inhaled her perfume, closing your eyes for a brief moment before she pulled away.

You must have been blushing a lot, and you thought it best to hide your embarrassment, looking away from Wanda quickly and mumbling a awkward "Goodnight. You didn't notice, but Wanda smiled fondly at the shy mess you had become. She waited until you entered the common room before turning around.

It has been three weeks since you spent Christmas Eve with Wanda. When you woke up after that night, you knew that there was something different between you two. Some kind of intimacy that wasn't there before. And you had no idea how to deal with it. Now, every time you saw each other, you exchanged accomplice glances, but neither of you took the first action to get closer. Always surrounded by friends, you didn't have much time alone. And with the start of the final exams, you were feeling overwhelmed

And then you agreed to have a drink with Nat at the Three Broomsticks, to take your mind off the tests for a while, only to witness Vis asking Wanda to be his girlfriend during a date at the same place you were. Of course you had to arrive right then and there. Feeling Wanda's and Nat's eyes focused on you, you just held back your tears and left the bar, being accompanied by your clearly concerned friend.

Heartbreak isn't exactly a plausible and acceptable justification for missing class, so you thought it best just to tell Minerva that you hadn't heard the alarm clock.

When you raised your eyes to Wanda that morning, you felt your stomach sink when she had that same complicit look in her eyes accompanied by a slight smile. But you didn't smile back, and not wanting to deal with her worried expression, you just focused on your transfiguration lesson.

It didn't take long for the class to end, since you had missed almost half of it. But you had to stay a little longer to hear Professor Minerva's sermon.

Since you only had the classes for the subjects you wanted to get your N.E.W.T., your schedule was comfortably empty during the seventh grade. The vast majority of the time had to be spent studying if you wanted to get decent grades on the tests, but you allowed yourself to rest this morning, feeling emotionally tired.

You noted that you had three free periods before the next class, and decided to spend one in the kitchens, confident that the elves would cheer you up a bit since the creatures were extremely adorable.

Leaving the room, you observed the empty corridor around you. Your time getting scolded by Professor Minerva clearly made it possible for all the other students to go to their respective classes. You noticed a small group of students playing explosive snap in the middle yard, but you didn't feel like joining in the fun.

Knowing that you still had plenty of free time, you decided to leave your heavy materials in the common room before going to the kitchen, so you changed your route for the moment.

It was only when you reached a particularly isolated area in a corridor that you almost tripped over your own feet. Wanda was standing in front of you, a serious expression on her face.

- I was waiting for you. - She said holding the bag tightly on her shoulders.

- Is there anything you want to talk about? - You asked impatiently. Wanda pressed her lips together

- Why are you being like this? - She questioned with frowning eyebrows, a hurt expression that made you feel a tightening in your stomach.. - Did I did something?

You were so tired of this game. Then you just exploded.

- You know what Wanda, why don’t you go back to your boyfriend and leave me alone! - You shouted impatiently, frightening Wanda who took a step backwards.. - I’m tired of this game we’re playing. I only get hurt from it.

Not waiting for Wanda to answer, you went around her and started walking. You heard her call you, and ask you to wait, but you didn't obey, holding back tears as you walked.

- Please, listen to me. - She pleaded one last time, and you stopped walking. Taking a deep breath, you turned around..

- What? - Your voice trembled a little, the emotion you were hiding escaping in your speech.

Wanda shifted the weight between her feet, lowering her head slightly with reddened cheeks. You imagined that she was embarrassed by the intensity of your gaze, that she was feeling guilty.

- I’m not dating Vis. - She stated lightly. You looked at her with confusion.

- I saw you two at…

- I know. - She cut you off by looking at you as she clasped her hands together, a shy smile escaping her lips. - I told him that i couldn’t date him. Not when I like someone else.

Great. There was someone else. You let out an exclamation of dissatisfaction.

- Look, it’s nice that you’re sharing your love life with me but i don’t see how this is relevant right now…

- I’m talking about you. - Wanda says looking at you.

- W-what? - You ask confused, feeling your cheeks heat up, your heart racing. Wanda looks as nervous as you do as she approaches.

- You’re the person I’m in love with. - Wanda confesses, her gaze intense on you. You find it hard to breathe now.

- Oh. - That seems to be the only thing you can say, no coherent thought forming at Wanda's proximity. She brought her hands up to your neck and pressed your foreheads together

- It 's okay if I kiss you? - She asked in a low tone, you felt your stomach turn with anxiety.

- I would like that. - You say finally, before you feel Wanda's lips against yours.

It's soft. Just the touch of your lips, and you don't move your hands, still not believing that this is really happening. You think you have something you need to say, so you sigh against Wanda's mouth, and she pulls away a bit, her hands trembling against your neck.

- I'm in love with you too, Wanda. - You whisper and kiss her again, feeling her smile against your mouth.

This time it's even better. Your mouths meet and you kiss her firmly, while bringing your hands to her waist. And then just the touch of your lips is not enough, and you run your tongue over Wanda's lower lip, asking for passage. You think she doesn't understand the request because of her lack of reaction, but the next second she bites your lip gently, drawing a gasp from you. When her tongue brushes against yours, you squeeze her waist, delighting in Wanda's taste. So fucking good, you think as your tongues wrestle together. When you slow the kiss, wanting to savor Wanda calmly, she moves her hands up into your hair, trailing her fingers down the back of your neck. Leaving the kiss as slow as possible, you smile against the kiss as you hear her sigh into your mouth. You always liked to tease after all.

You run one hand up her back, over her neck, pressing her against you as your tongue lingers on hers. You both gasp, and then the rhythm of the kiss changes. You let out a low moan as you feel Wanda pull your hair lightly as she increases the intensity of the kiss. Your hand that was on her waist comes down, and you grab her ass, squeezing and consequently earning a groan from Wanda. The feeling of having her against you is driving you wild, and your stomach is doing somersaults while your heart is racing.

As you pull your mouths apart to catch your breath, Wanda starts running kisses down your jaw to your neck, making your whole body shiver. You smile breathlessly, and feel your legs weaken. Realizing that you need a support to stand, you kiss her hard as you push her gently against the nearest wall.

The position certainly awakens something primal in both of you, the kiss intensifies as Wanda's leg curls against yours, and she pulls your body against hers so that you press her against the wall, something you do without opposition. Your hand squeezes her ass again, and she moans against your mouth.

- Fuck. - You sigh as you feel Wanda bite your lip again, your eyes opening slightly to face the fully dilated pupils staring at you maliciously.

You kiss again, Wanda letting her hands roam down your back, the sensation giving you goosebumps. You moan as you feel her fingers enter your burning skin through your shirt.

- For Merlin Sake! - a voice exclaims in surprise and you both stumble out of the kiss in shock.

It takes a moment for you to clear your own thoughts, everything in your body tingling with the feel of Wanda on your skin. You feel your cheeks heat up sharply as you face the one who interrupted you.

- You guys are so lucky it wasn't a teacher to find you like that. - Nat announced, pointing at the two of you, her tone was serious but her eyes showed amusement. She would surely tease you about this in the future.

- I… We - You tried to formulate a coherent sentence, but in the mix of shame and excitement you were in, you couldn't think of anything.

- It 's okay, love birds. - Nat joked, spreading her hands to push you and Wanda by the shoulders towards the courtyard. - You can continue your make out session somewhere else. I don’t recommend the school corridors, especially when you could get caught by Professor Fury.

- Right. - Wanda grumbles and you just nod in agreement

- The bell is about to ring, so I suggest you two find somewhere more quiet to be. - Nat says - I suggest the empty halls from the seventh floor. Or maybe, you know, a bed in any of the dorms.

You think you have blushed even more at the suggestion, but before you can say anything, Wanda stops walking, and you notice that she is as red as you are.

- Actually I have potions now. - She says, looking at Nat quickly, before her gaze focuses on you. She smiles slightly, and moves closer, making you hold your breath. - I see you at lunch, okay? - She speaks tenderly, placing a short kiss on your lips. You close your eyes at the sensation and think that she has gone too fast. Then Wanda nods to Nat and leaves, leaving you with a silly smile on your lips. The bell rings almost in the next instant and the noise wakes you up from your current state.

- Okay, since we both have free periods now, you're telling me everything. - Nat says, grabbing you by the arm as you walk back down the hall.

You laughed uncomfortably, feeling your face heat up. Taking a deep breath, you ignored Nat's excited expression, preparing to tell her how exactly you ended up in that situation.

[astrella-writes]

prompt | @ssoftlydreaming​ asked: nfjsja ok from sweet home can you do lee eun-hyeok and basically he has to decide if he should risk the danger of everyone in the apartment complex or save reader who is outside and struggling to survive.

warnings | female pronouns, angst, spoilers for episode one of the netflix adaptation of sweet home, if you haven’t watched episode one complete then this won’t make much sense, panic attacks, the general horror of sweet home, eun-hyuk being a logical pain in the ass, somewhat of an open-ending.

word count | 1.7K

author’s note | i hope this satisfies your masochistic desires! i’m honestly so happy to have angst as my first request, and that isn’t sarcasm at all.

The sound of his descending footsteps echoing throughout the concrete stairwell became background noise to Eun-Hyuk as he stared at the unanswered messages he had sent you well over an hour ago. This was strange behavior coming from you, considering you usually responded back within minutes. Not wanting to jump to conclusions, he tried to think of a logical explanation to calm his increasing worries. Perhaps your phone died on your walk home, or you had to work over-time without a chance to inform him.

He was certain some minor inconvenience caused your abrupt absence, although he couldn’t shake off the unnerving feeling settling like a burden of tense muscles upon his shoulders. Realizing there wasn’t much more he could do, especially since all the calls he gave you went straight to voice mail, he decided to wait patiently for a reply from you and try to keep his thoughts clear during the meantime.

Eun-Hyuk stuffed his phone into his pocket as he finally reached the half-open double doors that led out onto the first floor, his ears immediately picking up on the commotion before he looked over at the front entrance that was blocked by the shutters. A group of people stood dispersed nearby, talking amongst themselves and watching one resident in particular as he tried tugging on the metal bracing that barely budged. The man sighed, dropping his arm and admitting defeat as he walked away from the shutters, mumbling to himself.

‘First the elevators aren’t working, and now this?’ he thought to himself, unimpressed with the current situation, especially since he had work that night. He wasn’t the only one annoyed by the circumstances as the surrounding people openly expressed their vexation. Although, unlike most of them, he remained calm and simply observed the scene with his hands in his pockets. Multiple residents spoke loud enough for him to catch on to the fact that the security guard was missing, which made little sense considering this was an issue for him to resolve.

“Excuse me?” a feminine voice sounded from behind him, causing him to turn around and look at the woman. “Do you have any service on your cell?” Despite having just been on his phone, Eun-Hyuk was so preoccupied with his thoughts regarding your whereabouts that he didn’t notice the minor detail of whether he had any service.

Pulling out his phone and unlocking it, he immediately dialed your number, taking the possibility to hopefully connect with you and find out where you were. When his ear met with a high-pitched ringing, Eun-Hyuk lowered the phone, lost in thought for a second before looking at the woman.

“I guess not,” he said, watching as her face dropped in disappointment and she turned to walk away, but he stopped her with a question. “What’s going on here?” 

The woman hesitated, wondering if anything was even worth sharing considering she would give him more questions than answers. She went on to explain how every main exit had been closed up, locking everyone inside. Although she speculated someone was behind this, she had no idea who it was and for what purpose it was done. 

The explanation caused Eun-Hyuk to swallow thickly before turning his gaze towards the concealed entrance. He stared for a moment, silently wishing for your safety.

                                                          ―――

A shrill ringing penetrated your ear, causing you to jerk your head away from your phone and hang up on your attempt at calling Eun-Hyuk. With a frustrated cry, you threw your cellphone upon the ground, hearing the shattering of the screen as it smacked face-first against the concrete.

On the verge of tears, you made yourself as small as possible in the alleyway's corner, pulling your knees up to your chest as you rested your forehead on top of them. Your breathing grew increasingly more labored as the sensation of dread and pure hopelessness consumed your mind.

Eun-Hyuk’s words repeated in your head during times like this, when you were at risk of having a panic attack. Stay still. Take slow breaths. Think of something nice.

You squeezed your eyes shut, allowing the gathering tears to flow freely down your cheeks as they gathered at the tip of your chin. Forcing yourself to take in deep breaths, your trembling body gradually stilled. Eventually, your thoughts morphed as you focused on your breathing, rather than the surrounding chaos.

Think of something nice.

Eun-Hyuk’s face filled your mind, the sight prompting a ghost of a smile. You recalled your first meeting which occurred almost a year ago, when you had just moved into Green Roof Apartments. Someone had suddenly removed the towering stack of boxes you were carrying from your hold, and just as you were about to thank the person for helping, you realized you recognized him.

It turns out that you both used to attend the same high school, although you weren’t in the same class, your friend group interacted with his friend group quite a lot. Seeing his face brought back all those times at lunch when you would sneakily try to steal glances at him without your friends noticing. They noticed, of course, and teased you relentlessly about your crush but they were nonetheless supportive. They even proposed setting you two up on a date, because a ‘little birdie’ told them he had been crushing on you too.

Unfortunately, you were in such denial that someone as handsome as him had feelings for you, and rejected the offer. He was simply unobtainable, the extent of your relationship never surpassing polite greetings and friendly smiles until you both graduated and never saw each other again. Or at least, that’s what you assumed would happen.

It seemed fate gave you two another chance, unsatisfied with your prior silent pining and not acting upon anything. Considering you both matured immensely, talking came easy, and it wasn’t long before a much deeper connection began blossoming between the both of you.

His sister reacted indifferently when she walked out into the hallway one day, only to witness the both of you moving suspiciously away from each other, as if trying to conceal something. She caught on immediately, especially since her brother had been mentioning you quite often.

“Seriously? He’s the best you can do?” She scoffed, eyeing her brother disapprovingly before pushing between the both of you and walking off. You stared at her retreating figure in shock, oblivious to the smile on Eun-Yoo’s face as she disappeared down the stairs.

Once his sister found out, Eun-Hyuk became increasingly more open in terms of your relationship. And eventually, after a long week of his sister degrading him for not moving to the next step, he asked you to be his girlfriend. It wasn’t the most romantic of set-up’s; he had knocked on your door and asked you so casually that you wondered if he was joking.

When he assured you he wasn’t, you almost knocked him off his feet from the abrupt hug you gave him, accepting his simple proposal.

The memory faded, and the realization hit you like a truck. Eun-Hyuk was waiting for you, and you couldn’t give up on him. Taking a deep breath, you got up from the ground, trying not to focus on the screams and sounds of destruction in the distance as you lightly jogged towards the entrance of the alleyway. You peered behind the wall and looked both ways. The coast was clear; it was now or never.

                                                           ―――

You raced around the corner, narrowly dodging the attention of a nearby monster as its head popped up from one of the many dumpsters lining the brick wall of Green Roof Apartments, the location you had been trying to reach from when this all started.

The sound of metal creaking, which you quickly recognized to be the shutters descending, urged your aching legs to run faster as the darkness before you faded the closer you got to the entrance. That’s when you noticed Eun-Hyuk struggling to keep the shutters open as a distraught woman crawled towards him. He reached out a hand towards her, just as he looked up and made eye contact with you. His eyes widened at the sight, although bloodied and bruised, you were very much alive. You smiled at him, relieved, feeling safe already.

That was until you heard a rustling coming from your right, along with animalistic groans, as if something was just stirring back to life after being immobilized and ready to lash out again. A flurry of panicked voices came from the lobby of the apartment, everyone watching in horror as the hunched-over silhouette of the monster with a snake-like tongue began recovering to its full height.

Luckily for you, the monster disregarded your presence as it ambled towards the entrance. You stood frozen in fear as the shadow of its body passed over you, the sound of its languid steps lulling you into a trance as your body trembled lightly. 

It was perceptible that trying to run past it would end in your demise, leaving you stuck on what to do. Your pleading eyes drifted towards Eun-Hyuk, hoping he would come up with a plan to distract the monster long enough so you could make a break for the gap underneath the shutters he had been holding open - a perfect enough size for you to slide under.

He stared you dead in the eyes as he dropped the shutters; the metal clanging loudly against the tiled floor. You blanched, staring back at him in disbelief. A semblance of guilt took over his features, and you shook your head in denial. 

Your eyes stung with tears, and you wondered whether to cry and beg for him to help you or keep the remaining bit of dignity you had left. The monster suddenly shot its tongue within the gaps of the barred metal and Eun-Hyuk disappeared from sight as he dodged; the trance you were in instantly dissipating as you came to terms with the situation.

He left you to fend for yourself, surrounded by a horde of monsters. You weren’t sure whether to give up or keep going, considering nothing seemed worth fighting for at the moment. 

Did he regret it? Of course. Would he do it again? Without question. Eun-Hyuk would sacrifice anyone to keep his sister safe, even you, and even himself.

[tth-pdf]

Burning for love; JJK [01]

Contents: Future smut and just a hint, like very very little of dirty talk here, supernatural, romance, fluff and a chapter painfully unedited.

Pairing: Werewolf!alpha!jungook x Omega!reader.

Summary: A handsome man is hunting you in the dreams world, making every day more difficult to repress the need to come and find him in the middle of the night to submit yourself to his every wish.

Requests: ON

A/N: thank you so much for the support sweeties, here’s the next chapter as promised, enjoy it very much because I’m already working on the next, love you all and stay safe, also let me know what you think! 💖

Despite the dreams giving you signs of the one who complements your soul you refuse to accept the fate, because there’s no way that you belong to a pack alpha as him, powerful and demanding. Created for bearing strong pups with an equal omega by his side, just as the she wolves around your pack, but instead your just an omega newly presented, who is too shy to even say hi sometimes, too shy to say hello to the creature that was created to accompany your path until death do you part, instead you watch from afar, watching how he treats his friends and how he politely rejects every girl thats swoons around him and you know he watches too but you just try to ignore him, fighting your instincts to just go and scent him just for the fun of it, just to watch the girls that ache for him to come and see that the moon herself sent him your way.

With all this things swimming in your mind you can’t concentrate in your literature class, simply drawing little black wolves around what was supposed to be notes.

Right now you thank god that you don’t share any class with him, since he’s two years older than you.

So you decide that the best decision is to skip class and just chill a little outside to get some fresh air, high hopes of simply clear your mind.

But the calm aura that you were building suddenly crumbles as your body do with someones back.

“I’m sorry” you’re quick to say with hopes to not trigger that person and can keep your way, but once again that’s not what’s about to happen because that same person grabs your forearm before you saved yourself.

“Well, well, what are you doing around the campus all alone and smelling like that baby?”

You don’t answer since you’re too nervous and slightly scared of the hand grabbing you way too hard.

“Hm, where’s your alpha honey, do you even have one?”

When a moment of courage crosses you, you dare to hold the gaze of the alpha in front of you.

You could have accept a behavior like this form him, but not from just a random horny wolf.

“I-I…Please let me go if you don’t wanna have problems”

The nerves increase when the alpha in front of you does nothing more than tighten his grip and laugh with his friends about you.

“You don’t want me to have problems, huh?, how sweet of you…And with who are we going to have problems?”

You were about to answer when suddenly you’re feeling goosebumps everywhere and an inevitable feeling of safety, natural instincts kicking in without giving you a chance to decide for yourself, all accompanied with the great feeling that you get to experiment when hearing his voice in between dreams.

“With me is who you are going to have problems”

Immediately the guy loosens but still he won’t let go the grip in your forearm and back off just a little, intimidated by the taller and stronger alpha in front of him, even though they’re the same breed it’s the way that Jungkook carries himself and the way he won the respect, he won it how a good pack leader is supposed to, thinking in others before himself.

“I suggest you to take your fucking nasty hands off of my omega”

At the time he’s saying his powerful sentence you can feel his hot body against your own, hard with years of training for his position and right now ready to attack, hands of your own itching to touch him and to have your way with him right in this hallway.

That wasn’t really a suggestion, was a command, the other alpha knowing what was best for him and obeying, quickly turning around with this friends and leaving you there, frozen in your place and with a heavy heart.

After a couple seconds just standing there, Jungkook decides to talk and enchant you with that deep yet sweet voice reserved just for you.

“Won’t you talk to me, pretty girl?”

You close your eyes, praying to the gods above to save you from this pain to touch him or to simply help you erase that insecurities flowing in your mind and make him yours.

“T-thanks”

That was all you could say, not even lookin him in the eyes.

“Look at me baby, your alpha is begging you to show him your pretty eyes”

Your omega genes taking the best of you and giving him what he wants, but as soon as you place your eyes on his your legs decided to give up, but just when you think that yore going to touch the ground strong arms encircle your frame, just like the dream.

“There you are pretty girl, I knew you would give your alpha just what he needs, right?, because you’re such a good girl”

Your body reacting by pure instinct and hugging him against you with such a force that makes him chuckle, realizing just how needy for him you are.

“All this time trying to ignore the fact that you belong to me has had you suffering but look at you right now, throwing yourself to me like a bitch in heat”

And that’s exactly what your body is asking you, while you nose his neck as much as you can, burying yourself in the deep ocean of the comfort that just a mate can bring you to.

“I’m sorry alpha, please take the pain away, please, I-I will do anything you desire. Just m-make it stop”

Jungkook feels a little anxious since you’re still in the middle of a hallway in the school and your scent will be attracting more males which turns his eyes darker and his body tense, feeling even more possessive with what’s his, but at least he has to get you out of here.

“Let me take you out of fucking here at least my pretty girl, god… The things I’ll do to you”

The rational part of your brain is dizzy with the feeling of your men so close and the fears are suddenly long forgotten and all you want is him.

“Come on pretty baby, your alpha’s gonna take you to a warm nest to lay on, alright?, all you have to do is walk a little, at least until we are at the door, I know you can do that honey”

Jungkook has been waiting for this moment since the night he saw your pretty grey fur in the middle of the night, your wolf calling for him, so loud that he couldn’t even lie down and chill, so he was going to make sure you never forget to who you belong and what happens when you challenge the alpha trying to run away from fate.

Tag list: @min-nicoleee, @in-a-way-that-i-should-not, @imluckybitches.

Next update: 1/03/21

All rights reserved.

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Ch. 24 of 27: Graduation

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

Choose Me Instead Masterlist

Words: 3.2k Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader, post-war Warnings: mentions of mental health issues incl. self-harm (only in like 2 sentences tho)

Four weeks until graduation …

Draco Malfoy and you were over. Whatever glimpse of happiness and fleeting bliss had been bestowed upon you – it was gone. It was gone and you were alone again. In your head, you replayed your last time together over and over and over until you felt sick to your stomach. For months did you pretend not to feel anything for him beyond friendship but damn, you loved him. You loved with him with every fiber of your body. Every thought on every day was devoted to him and him only. You looked for him in the hallways, glanced at him during class and each time your eyes met, another piece of your heart broke.

To be quite honest, you weren’t worried about yourself as much as you worried about him. You spoke to Theo from time to time, asking him about Draco. He told you exactly what you had suspected all along: his dreams had gotten worse. He skipped therapy sessions, spent his days scribbling in his black notebook instead. You knew it wasn’t fair to you but you still couldn’t help but blame yourself.

During meals, you watched him with Astoria who was glued to his side. To your surprise, she seemed happier. Even though she grew paler with each day she wore a smile on her face. An honest, happy smile. You heard her laugh and wondered if it had been this beautiful all the time. You watched her talk to Draco with a spark in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. You wanted to hate her but seeing her like this? It certainly made it harder for you to do so. Still, each time you saw them walking to class or sit outside on the grass, your stomach plummeted and on particularly bad days, tears filled your eyes.

Eventually, you grew sick of feeling this way. You had fought hard for your own happiness to return after all the shit you went through and to now have it taken away from you in an instant by him felt humiliating. The whole mess started because you wanted to hurt Ron. So how did you end up hurting instead?

You tried tuning out the pain by burying yourself in work. Studying, quidditch training, stupid parties in the Gryffindor common room – you tried anything and everything to numb down the pain. It worked. For the most part. However, your thoughts always began to stray after a while. As soon as his image popped up in your mind, you pinched yourself as if you were trying to wake up from a bad dream. One time, you did it during a therapy session and Merlin, did you regret that. The lecture about self-harm that followed was definitely not worth it.

The days grew warmer. Sunlight fell through the dusty windows of the Hogwarts classrooms, the smell of flowers and freshly cut grass filled the air. Summer had begun to knock on the door. You weren’t ready to open it yet. Once summer arrived, your life would change once again.

However, before that happened you still had to get through your exams. You dreaded the thought of taking them. These past months … well, to put it gently, your focus hadn’t been on school exactly. Sure, you spent hours upon hours in the library but you weren’t sure how much of the things you read actually stuck with you.

“Ready?”, Ginny asked you the morning of your final exams.

You glanced at her and shook your head. She laughed. “Come on, it won’t be that bad. We’ve taken thousands of exams, we’ll get through it. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Y/N doesn’t achieve the grades she needs to become an auror,” Hermione chimed in matter-of-factly. “That’s the worst that can happen.”

“Thanks, Mione,” you said dryly.

She smiled at you apologetically. “It won’t come to this, don’t worry. You got this. We all do.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

 ***

Two weeks until graduation …

You sat together with Ginny and Hermione at the Black Lake, feet dangling in the water, eyes closed as you enjoyed the sunrays warming your face. Ginny kept on talking about the tryouts for the Holyhead Harpies that would take place just a few days after graduation while you and Hermione only occasionally commented. You reassured her that she would do just fine. After all, there was no doubt in your mind that Ginny Weasley would join the team and have a successful quidditch career ahead of her.

After a while, the conversation shifted. Hermione worried about the amount of reading she had to do before her internship at the Ministry of Magic started, and you snorted. “They don’t expect you to know everything about the job beforehand, y’know?”

“Well, good impressions are important,” she replied.

During the whole afternoon, the topic of your future plans didn’t come up. Your friends sensed your apprehension regarding that particular topic. After the utter debacle that was your exams, you tried to forget that you were supposed to have an idea of what to do with your life in just about two weeks. You still waited on a letter from the Ministry, waited for the news that your plan had worked out. That you could become an auror, a dream you had since you could think. Yet, you screwed up and you weren’t sure if your performance in the final exams was enough to get you a placement. Thankfully, your parents were still too wound up in the whole drama Alissa brought with her. They didn’t even ask how your exams went and you weren’t mad. The importance of exams paled in comparison to the prospect of a life sentence in Azkaban.

A bee buzzed close to your ear and you opened your eyes again.

 ***

One week before graduation …

“You look horrible, darling.”

You rolled your eyes when Theo appeared by your side. You were on your way to the Great Hall, earlier than usual in an attempt to study a few more minutes in the library before your first class. “Thank you, Theodore. Just what a woman wants to hear before breakfast.”

He snickered. “Apologies.” Then he held his hands out, motioning you to give him some of the books in your arms to help you carry them.

“Accepted,” you said and gave him the whole pile of books instead. He groaned and you chuckled at him. “How are you then?”, you asked.

“Relieved about the fact that school is almost over.” He dodged a first year student who ran past him and one books slid dangerously close to the edge of the pile. You were surprised by how many students were already awake.

“Any plans for what comes after?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Travel.”

You looked at him in surprise. “Travel?”

“Blaise and I are going to travel around Europe for a few months,” he explained. “I need to get out of the country where everyone knows me as ‘that Death Eaters kid’ and Blaise is simply loaded with money and doesn’t want to work.” The two of you laughed at the last statement. “And afterwards …” Theo shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”

“That sounds nice,” you sighed. “When will you leave?”

“After Draco’s wed-” He stopped midsentence. “Ah, shit.”

You bit your tongue. Actually bit it. “It’s official then,” you said softly. “I haven’t seen the announcement yet.”

Theo stopped. You had almost reached the Great Hall. The Slytherin looked at you with sympathy. “It’ll come out today.” He lowered his voice: “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You avoided his gaze. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Theodore stayed quiet until you resumed your walk. “For what it’s worth, he doesn’t love her,” he finally said. The statement hurt even more.

“What a fucking mess we made.”

Theo nodded. He didn’t say anything else. When you walked into the Great Hall, he handed you the books back and softly squeezed your arm before mumbling: “I’m really sorry.”

He was right – the Daily Prophet printed the announcement of the wedding on that same day. Yet, when an owl dropped the paper onto your plate, you were oddly calm. You lowered the glass of orange juice carefully and rolled up the newspaper. Their picture was on the front page.

Astoria’s beauty was unlike anything you had ever seen. She wore a simple black dress and was glowing in the picture. She smiled widely as her gaze switched between Draco and the camera. Spooky how different she looked. You wondered if they had used magic to hide the circles underneath her eyes and the sunken-in cheeks. Draco stood beside her, wearing his trademark simple, black suit. His back was straight, his eyes focused on the camera. He didn’t smile.

As if you had felt his stare, you looked up. Draco sat across the hall at the Slytherin table, Greengrass – his fiancée – by his side who excitedly showed the article to Parkinson. You forced yourself to smile but it didn’t reach your eyes. He turned away. Just in time to miss the tears you had to blink away.

This isn’t right, you thought, none of this is right.

 ***

One day before graduation …

Tears streamed down your face as another sob shook your body. You stared at the letter in your hand, reading it over and over again. At this point, you had memorized every word but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

Dear Ms. Y/N Y/L/N,

When an owl brought you the letter, you didn’t open it immediately. You didn’t want to do it in front of your friends, already sensing what was written inside of it. So instead you grabbed it and went to the bleachers of the Quidditch field. High up above, where no one would interrupt you.

We regret to inform you …

It wasn’t entirely unsuspected but it didn’t hinder the tears from dwelling up. Before you knew it, they streamed down your face. Cold fear gripped your heart. This is it, you thought, it’s all over now. Your entirely life you wanted to become an auror. You had no plan b, no other option, it had always been this. And now you failed.

“Y/N?” The voice caused you to whirl around. “What happened?” Draco. His eyes widened in shock and concern when he saw your face. With three long strides he crossed the distance between the two of you.

“Draco …”, you whimpered and then he was there, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispered and held you tighter. Instinctively, you relaxed against his body and let him embrace you. It felt so right. “Shh, it’s fine, it’s all going to be fine.” He repeated over and over. Sobs shook your body while your tears drenched his uniform. It felt as if hours had passed until you finally began to calm down. With each shaking breath, the scent of his cologne wrapped itself around you.

“What happened?”, Draco asked again when no more sobs escaped you and you quietly buried your face in his shoulders. Without a word, you held up the letter. A few seconds passed and Draco snorted. “Well, their loss,” he said, audibly disgusted.

You whimpered another time. “It’s all my fault. I should’ve done more, I-I …” You wiped over your eyes. “What do I do now, Draco?”

He sighed before he answered: “Anything you want. Y/N, you’re intelligent, clever, witty, beautiful – you can do anything you want.”

“Except for becoming an auror,” you scoffed.

“Maybe. So what?” He shrugged. “Fuck them. It’s their loss.”

You remained silent. Draco had his arms still wrapped around you. In this position, you almost forgot your situation. This felt so … normal. So right, so natural. As if it was meant to be. As if he was the one to hold you in this exact moment. You thought about asking why he was up here on this night but held your tongue. A part of you wanted to believe that it was because of you. Everything started up here on the bleachers, last year in September. Right here, the two of you talked for the first time in years. A conversation, you could recall to this day. Everything began here. Maybe he came back because he hoped to find you here. You wanted to believe that.

“It’s all I ever wanted to do,” you whispered after a moment. “I don’t have a plan b. I –” Another tear rolled down your cheek. He looked at you, his grey eyes full of love and adoration, and wiped it away.

“You’re hurting, I know. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s going to be alright though, I promise.”

You smiled sadly. “Everything goes to shit in my life, everything! The fucking war is over and yet I can’t seem to catch a fucking breath.”

“I believe, the war will stay with us for a lot longer than we thought,” Draco whispered. He didn’t let go of you as he watched the castle in the distance. The sun begun to set and drowned the Scottish landscape in its golden light. It was a marvelous sight.

Sudden music caused you to flinch. A group of seventh year students had arrived on the Quidditch field. Loud voices and laughter mixed with the rhythm of a new popular song. They weren’t from your house, you realized.

“I should leave,” Draco said. And when you recognized Astoria’s high-pitched scream as a drunken Blaise picked her up, you knew why he was here to begin with. Not for you. For them.

“Yes, right, I’m sorry.” You cleared your throat and sat up straight. Draco let go of you reluctantly before he got up. He looked at you and you wondered if he was going to say something. But even if he wanted to, he didn’t. He only nodded and then made his way towards the stairs.

“I feel as if I should congratulate you on the engagement but …”, you suddenly spoke up.

Draco stopped and glanced at you. “Don’t.”

You saw how a shadow flickered over his face. Then you remembered something else. “Wait, I have something for you.” You reached inside your back and pulled out a picture. He looked at you in surprise when he gave it to you. It was a picture of you two from the last Christmas, taken during a dinner. Draco had his arm wrapped around you and raised a glass of wine, an amused smirk on his face. You laughed in it, covering your mouth with your hand. It was the only picture of the two of you but you loved it. It showed Draco the way he truly was. The way he made you feel every time you looked at him.

“You carried it with you this whole time?”, he asked softly. He held the picture so carefully as if he was afraid to accidentally damage it.

You gave a half shrug. “Only for the last few days. I hoped to catch you alone at some point.”

“Thank you.”

“Will I see you?”

He looked up at the question.

“After graduation, I mean?”, you clarified. “Maybe send me an owl once or twice a year? I need to know you’re okay.”

“So you can rip out my heart again, little Gryffindor?”

You opened and closed your mouth at the statement. Draco chuckled. “I’ll do it. If you promise me to reply.”

“I promise.”

You didn’t know it yet but Draco would keep his promise. However, when you received his first letter, you broke yours.

 ***

A few weeks after graduation …

The last day of school came and went. Funny how you had expected it to be filled with tears and laughter when, in the end, it was just another insignificant day of the year. To be fair, some tears had been shed. Long hugs with your friends and promises to stay in touch were shared on the train station in King’s Cross before all of you parted ways.

Your parents picked you up. They looked like mere shells of themselves as they kissed you on the cheek. A lump formed in your throat when you saw their sad faces. They had aged immensely in these past few months, the stress had left deep wrinkles and tired eyes behind.

They didn’t speak much on this day. They only hugged you when you told them about the rejection from the Ministry. “I’m so sorry, darling,” your father had mumbled, “you’ll find something else, I’m sure.” A part of you was relieved they didn’t ask any further questions.

The next morning, your mother had asked you if you wanted to see Alissa. You didn’t. You couldn’t. The mere mention of her name made you grit your teeth. Alissa was the reason for all the suffering in your family’s life. For all the heartbreak and tears. All the sisterly feelings had shrunken during the past year. Now you were left with rage and hatred when you heard her name.

“Will you please come to the court hearing in two weeks then?”, your mother had asked when she noticed the expression on your face and you had agreed.

And here you were. Standing in your kitchen, a cup of freshly brewed tea in your hand while you listened to your parents screaming at each other upstairs. You had just come home from the hearing and now looked outside into the garden. The roses, once your mother’s pride and joy, were neglected, you noticed. Their heads hung, most of them dried up from the summer sun.

“Twenty-five years in Azkaban,” you mumbled to yourself. Alissa’s future. Twenty-five years locked away on an island. You had hoped the sentence would give you satisfaction. It didn’t. Instead it frightened you. Would Alissa survive this? Twenty-five years without seeing her family? Would your mother survive it? Or would she wither like the roses in her garden?

You took a sip of your tea and wondered how your life changed once again, now that the problem of Alissa was finally … resolved. It ended. The anxious waiting, the not knowing … it all ended. By now, she would have already arrived in the prison cell that would be her home for the years to come.

You hadn’t spoken to her. You had watched her in the courtroom while she didn’t look up at your family. During the whole hearing, her eyes were locked on the ground and she remained silent. It was the strangest sight – the broken-down woman in the dirty dress wasn’t your sister. The fiery spirit inside her had left a long time ago together with her beauty and wits. You stared at Alissa, desperately trying to find a glimpse of the sister you once knew and loved. You were unsuccessful. This woman was a stranger and your sister was dead. And you wanted nothing more than to simply move on.

“The nerve this family has,” your father muttered behind you. “Unbelievable.”

You sat the tea cup down on the counter and turned to him. The screaming had stopped, you realized. You had been so lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed how your father came downstairs again.

“What are you talking about?”, you asked.

Your father shook his head and handed you an envelope without another word. Your gaze fell onto the dark green emblem printed on the back and suddenly, your throat felt very, very dry. You’d recognize the sign anywhere. With shaking hands you opened the envelope and pulled out a card. 

“Can you believe it?”, your father asked. “They actually have the nerve to invite us to his wedding?”

***

A/N: I hope you liked it! Feedback is always appreciated! We’re almost finished with this story, I’m so sad btw.

CHAPTER 25

CMI Masterlist HP Masterlist

The tag list for this story is closed! <3

Tag List:  @writerdee1701,  @sjmahoney, @detroitobsessed, @takura-rin @wynterwind, @mina672, @doitforthevine67, @flowerpowerpixie, @gold-flowing, @starkssnarks, @bookcornerkins, @harpersmariano, @markedsweetly, @iraniq, @pointlesscoconut, @hvrcruxes, @pillowjj, @idkatee,  @magicwithaknife, @graystherapy, @nxstalgicnxbxdy, @sunsetsofanemoia, @s4dthrills, @tommy-holland, @lordfxxker, @streetfighterrichie, @awaken-the-sirens, @destiels-assbutt13, @pockitparks, @cuddlykoala101, @zpandaqueen, @jjjmaybank, @justmesadgirl, @books-and-tings, @katiaw2, @saintkore, @nctnight, @lifestragedy, @obxmxybxnk, @spideydobik, @ladylizzieofdarbyshire, @aspiring-ginger, @dracomalfoyswifey, @jpow345, @realistic-breadstick, @abbs-is-tired, @alwaysbeanunknownfan, @niallsarmveinstho, @is-this-a-febreze-commercial, @acciowilltolive,  @sexytholland, @faangirl101, @donttellany1iusetumbler, @mendesmuffinsss, @lilxnvm, @kill-the-teen-memories, @darkusangelus, @p0gue420, @itsbebeyyy, @hesaidimcrazy, @jenniweaslee, @brisbubble, @xomaymay, @serialkillme, @angel-tears15, @panicattheeverywherekid, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @nobleking, @ddaeing, @randogirlo-fando-main, @sadgirlnumber92899, @captivateing, @smiithys, @ninipoo1, @intheawks, @cherrylita, @nothanksnyla, @calpal-4ever, @dracosathenaeum, @belsandthings, @kiwi-sloan, @xdmx, @live-awkward, @babebenhardy, @bitchysweets-blog, @cravingmusic, @frau-moon, @ohissandhalasta, @broken-but-beautiful-cassie, @lil-black-heart, @vminenthusiastt, @dracos-slut, @saucysuazo, @fuzzzwald, @matsuno-nadeshiko, @amber-arsenault, @loveableasshole, @thehippyprepster, @spideycures, @echpr,  @shiningstar-byulxx, @twinklebug2282, @bloodiedroses, @klthmef, @ostorian, @bi-chai-tea, @amandaluvssupernatural, @makeoutwithstiles, @tenclouds, @lovingdracomalfoy, @lannaax, @dr-bitch-bby, @fallinallinmendes, @suckerforparker, @runninglownad, @piercinghorizons, @dosicas 

[qianinterprises]

Summer '78

Pairing | bully!Jeno x chubby!Reader

Warning(s) | bullying, harsh words, cussing, sexual assault, name calling, fat shaming, poor shaming, face slapping, angst, hurtful comments, yelling, the Dreamies are not nice people (I know I did Jaemin wrong, I'm sorry)

Synopsis | Jeno was a bully, and you were his primary victim. Nothing should have changed, but Jeno began getting tired of bullying the girl he was in love with simply because she didn't conform to societies beauty standards. So she was chubby? So what?! His friends didn't see it that was.

Genre | ANGST, retro-flashback

Author’s Notes | So I wrote this a while back for an event of NCTA, which was basically writing a retro fic. This fic is very different than the fics I usually write. For one, it is told in Jeno's perspective rather than the readers. For two, this is a "chubby fic." Meaning the reader is seen in the fic as having a larger body weight, which, may I add here, is not a problem, nor should it ever be. If you are being bullied for anything, please don't let it go unreported. Report it as many times as you have to because bullying is not ok, whether it's done at school, at home, or anywhere else. Also, there is a possibility that there will be a part two, I have had some people (before posting it here) request a part two but I'm on the fence about that, but perhaps a part two will show some change and growth on Jeno's part. So we'll see. Tell me your opinions though! I hope you enjoy~

Word Count | 3.5k

Taglist | @treasuretaeil @hachanbaecon @nschitty

A group of six boys sat around a table talking and laughing until a loud crash resounded through the snack shack that brought their attention to a waitress on the floor, yellow heels scattered behind her, empty tray in her hands and spilled drinks everywhere as well as on a girl by the table the waitress had fallen at.

“Clutz,” one of the boys, Jeno, mumbled, shaking his head.

“Fatass,” Jeno’s best friend, Jaemin responded.

The other four muttered something along the lines of agreement as they watched the waitress cowering on the floor with a bright red face as the girl now covered in cola shrieked about her ruined clothing and hair.

Jaemin got up from his seat angrily.

“What the hell are you doing to my girlfriend!” he yelled, approaching the pair.

“Jaeminnie! She poured soda all over me!” the girl pouted, running into Jaemins arms.

Jeno rolled his eyes.

Jeno shook his head. Out of all of the boys in their biker gang, Jaemin just had to be the most gullible, falling for the Queen Bee of the high school who used him for nothing more than his money and face.

“She ruined my shirt,” Jeno heard the girl whine.

Jaemin embraced her tighter.

“You’ll have to pay for her clothing, fatty!” Jaemin demanded.

The waitress was someone Jeno recognized. (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N). She had been one of his best friends when he was a shy ten year old trying to fit in. They both befriended Jaemin and the rest of their group and somewhere along the way, he’d gotten muscular and tall while she’d gotten chubby. With Jeno’s looks, he’d always been popular with girls, but when he became interested in them as more than friends, he’d dumped the girl in favor of girlfriends.

She was a bullied girl wearing outdated clothing that made adequate grades. A nobody. She didn’t fit into any groups. She drifted through high school being shoved against lockers while her books were thrown across the hallway and what little lunch money she had was stolen. More often than not, Jeno or one of the other guys was the perpetrator.

“I can’t…” (y/n) muttered, looking down at the floor.

Jaemin kicked the carrying tray away from her, making the girl flinch.

Something in Jeno’s heart snapped against his chest, but he’d never allow it to escape. He watched tears gather in the corner of the girl's eyes and Jeno fought the urge to pull her to his chest.

Feelings began to stir their first year in high school when he and (y/n) had been seated side-by-side in homeroom and he’d leaned over to tease her about her recent, awkwardly styled hair when he’d met the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen.

The feelings made his stomach twist in knots and his body tingled. Feelings and sensations that only grew stronger when their skin brushed or when her angelic voice met his ears.

The feelings were what drove him to brash treatment. His hands shoving her shoulders against the lockers as he demanded for her money. Fingers harshly tugging at the ends of her hair. His voice yelling horrible things at her just to hear her speak back.

He couldn’t tell anyone how he was feeling either. Dating the chubby girl would cause him to lose whatever popularity he had obtained along with his pride and his gang. Their leader couldn’t be seen as the weak punk who decided to date the chubby girl from a poor family.

Jaemin sneered down at the blushing girl, taunting her loudly and Jeno watched her feeble attempt at hiding her face.

“Jaemin! Let’s go. Chubby over here isn’t worth our time,” Jeno called loudly, voice filled with authority that had Jaemin immediately moving away from the girl.

“Fine. But she owes us free meals for a week! Those clothes were expensive!” Jaemin whined.

He kissed his girlfriend's cheek and walked to the door to wait on the rest of the gang who were stuffing their last few fries in their mouths or finishing off their milkshakes.

“Let’s roll,” Jaemin called, a grin on his face.

Jeno shook his head at how fast the male changed perspectives. He grabbed his leather jacket off the back of his chair, sliding his arms into it and let it snap against his back.

The last few members finished their plates, leaving them on the table before grabbing their own jackets and following Jaemin out the door. Jeno took the end, stopping by the waitress on the floor.

“Maybe get some heels your fat feet can walk in, huh Dollface?” he sneered.

Her face flew red again and he rolled his eyes.

“And you should stop blushing. You look like a tomato. Vegetables aren’t attractive. Although it’s fitting. Tomatoes are plump.”

He walked out the door without another word, heart hammering painfully in his ears. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, but that was a problem. He couldn’t think chubby girls were beautiful. What would his friends think?

The loud purr of an engine met his ears and he sighed happily, most of his regret getting washed away, uprooted by the smell of motor oil and tires.

Jeno’s ride was a cherry red 1960 Harley-Davidson motorcycle with shiny silver wheels that didn’t match the rusted gas tank or muffler that Jeno was now saving to restore among other things. The black leather seat was slightly cracked from wear over the years and the breaks didn’t always work great. His headlight needed a new spark plug and the oil line leaked. Still, with all of these issues, he loved his bike. Each new issue gave him something to work on at night in his father's tiny little garage when all he wanted was grease on his chest and a wrench in his hand.

“Let’s go Jeno! I wanna ride!” Donghyuck moaned from his spot on his own bike, revving the engine with his right hand.

Jeno rolled his eyes at Donghyuck’s whining. Out of all of them, he was the one that loved traveling the most. They’d gone all the way up the coast the day they’d let Donghyuck lead them.

Jeno nodded and threw his leg over his bike, kicking the kick start lever and sighing happily as the bike roared to life beneath him. He pushed off his kickstand and allowed it to roll forward.

“Let’s go!” he called.

He rolled to the front of the group before revving the engine and turning onto the main road leaving the beachside snack shack behind.

~

When Jeno pulled into the driveway of his house, he parked his motorcycle beside his elder brother's black and gold Harley, letting the kickstand rest against the dirt driveway and dismounted..

He made his way into the house where his older brother, Jaehyun, was sitting alone in the living room flipping through channels.

Jeno’s heart hurt. All through the ride, he thought about (y/n) and the pained look in her eyes every time someone teased her. He knew it wasn’t right to bully her, especially for something as shallow as her weight or her clothes, but when the girls Jeno dated began mocking her, Jeno joined in, and pretty soon, she was alone. It hurt that Jeno could have stopped it. He could have kept her as a friend instead of ditching her, and now, here he was, hopelessly in love with the girl he bullied and too afraid to stand up to his friends out of fear that they would dump him.

“I have a problem,” he groaned, flopping down on the couch.

Jaehyun turned the small box television off and turned his attention to Jeno. Jeno rolled his head back on the plush green sofa and sighed.

“There’s this girl I like…” he started.

Jaehyun groaned in disinterest.

“So tell her. Not like you can’t get any girl. I heard you’re one of the kings of your class,” he replied.

Jeno whined. It was true. He could virtually have anyone he wanted, yet the one person he couldn’t have was the one he desired.

“I can’t. My friends wouldn’t approve and she’d never go for me… not after everything I’ve done,” he muttered hopelessly.

“Why do you care so much what your punk friends think? Do what you want, not what they want you to do.”

Jeno sighed. It wasn’t that easy and Jaehyun should know that.

“She’d never go out with me anyway and I can never tell her!” Jeno whined, hoping his brother would understand.

He was far too ashamed to come out and say exactly why she wouldn’t. “There’s girls that don’t like you?” Jaehyun asked, clearly shocked.

Jeno nodded sullenly.

“Just one…”

That seemed to make the links click in Jaehyun’s mind and Jeno wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

“You don’t mean you like the poor girl you always bully, do you?”

So Jaehyun knew about that. No wonder his brother had grown distant since Jeno had started high school.

“Um… yes…” he mumbled.

Jaehyun shuffled around on the beige chair he was sitting on before one of his dirty socks was being chucked at Jeno’s head.

“Hey!” Jeno snapped.

“You don’t treat people like that! You and your friends are assholes! That poor girl won’t forgive you for what you’ve done to her!” Jaehyun yelled.

Jeno wanted to yell back, but he knew Jaehyun was right. He was an asshole.

“What do I do to get her to like me… I don’t know how to stop this mess…” he mumbled. Jaehyun groaned and grabbed the large remote, flipping the television back on.

“You make things right. Stop bullying the girl and apologize like you mean it. Even then, it may be too late,” Jaehyun answered before his attention was back into the heavy box television.

Jeno sighed. He knew his brother was right.

~

The next afternoon, Jeno pulled his motorcycle into the parking lot of the snack shack, parking alongside Jisungs rusting brown one he refused to let Jaemin or Jeno strip and repaint.

Jeno dismounted and walked into the shack. His friends were crowded around their usual table, talking loudly.

Jeno walked over to the table and slid into the booth beside Renjun.

“What’d I miss?” he asked.

Jaemin was cackling and fishing ice out of his soda glass.

“(y/n) is on our table today!” he smirked.

Jeno’s heart dropped. That meant they’d be extra cruel to her today and Jeno really couldn’t do anything to tell her or his friends how he felt. The universe must really hate him.

Jaemin got the ice out of his cola glass and held it in his palm, his faze shifting to where (y/n) was shuffling around in her red striped shirt and black pants, wearing those same yellow heels.

“What are you gonna-”

Jeno was cut off as Jaemin smirked and launched the ice cube across the table, getting enough air to fly across the room until it dived down into the low cut v-line of (y/n)’s striped shirt.

“Yes! 10 points!” Jaemin cheered loudly.

(y/n) squeaked at the sudden intrusion of ice, a sound that Jeno found oddly adorable, even if it wasn’t a good kind of squeak.

Her face flamed red and she hurried back to put her notepad down on the chef’s counter before moving back to their table.

“Can I get you guys anything else?” she asked, her voice having gone up an octave from embarrassment.

“I want a chocolate milkshake,” Renjun answered.

(y/n) jotted it down and moved to look at the rest.

“I want a burger that’s charred on one side, but not too charred. Don’t bring me burnt meat or I’ll make your fatass eat it,” Jaemin said.

Jeno sighed at his friend, shaking his head subtly.

“I want a burger with a dollop of ketchup and three pickles. Don’t you dare give me any more or less than three pickles,” Donghyuck ordered.

Jeno rolled his eyes. Donghyuck didn’t even like pickles.

She glanced at Jisung and Chenle, both who were contently sipping their cola’s and completely ignoring her existence, so, after scribbling down everyone else’s orders, she turned her eyes to Jeno.

“Coke with ten pieces of ice and a burger.”

(y/n) nodded, writing all of the information down and shuffled off to the counter again.

“Do we really have to be that mean to her? She looked like she was going to cry,” Renjun muttered.

Jaemin rolled his eyes.

Jeno nodded in agreement to Renjun. Her face was sullen and her eyes glistened with tears that hadn’t fallen. His heart sank at the thought that maybe something had happened at home or that their words had finally gotten to her. In all the time they’d been bullying her, she never once said anything much to them, and they’d never seen her cry.

“Do you think we should lay off her?” he suggested.

Donghyuck and Jaemin snorted at the same time.

“Why would we do that?” Donghyuck asked.

Jeno shook his head. His friends could be such assholes sometimes. They wouldn’t even stop for someone that seems to be almost crying, they just use it to play more games. More buttons to press.

“If you’re so worried, Jeno, go check on her,” Chenle challenged.

“Yeah, go check on her!” Jaemin cackled.

Jeno shook his head and sighed, getting out of the booth. He knew very well what they expected him to do, or at least, what they wanted him to do, but he didn’t know if he could take calling her names anymore. Not when it felt like his soul was screaming at him not to.

He didn’t have much of a choice as he made his way over to her, however. He couldn’t control what his friends wanted and what he was obligated to give.

He moved up behind her and while her back was turned, he brought his hand down hard on her butt as his friends cackled loudly from their table. Jeno’s ears burned in embarrassment and guilt. If his mother knew what he’d just done, she’d be dragging him out of the snack shack by his ear.

He didn’t really know what to expect from (y/n). What he didn’t expect however, was her body whirling around rapidly, her hand raising angrily, and the sharp stinging sensation across his cheek.

“YOU HAVE NO RIGHT! I HAVE DONE NOTHING TO YOU, AND YET ALL YOU ARE YOUR ASSHOLE BUDDIES WANNA DO IS BULLY ME! WELL PISS OFF! I DON’T NEED THIS!” she screamed.

Jeno’s eyes widened. This was new…

“YOU ARE A BUNCH OF PUNKASS BOYS WITH NOTHING BETTER TO DO, BUT I SWEAR THE NEXT TIME I HEAR A COMMENT ABOUT MY WEIGHT, CLOTHES, OR HAIR, OR ANYONE TOUCHEs ME, I WILL SHOVE MY FAT FOOT UP YOUR BUTTHOLE!” she screamed angrily.

The cackling from the table had stopped as the boys gaped at their waitress in shock.

“AND YOU IDIOTS CAN GET YOUR OWN DAMN BURGERS!”

The snack shack had gone deathly quiet. Jeno stood as still as a statue, face still stinging, but not quite as painful now. The outburst from this usually quiet and reserved girl shocked him to his very core, but it also made him feel worse. Sure, the ice throwing, name calling, and excessively stupid orders had added fuel to the fire, but it was Jeno’s action that had thrown her over the edge.

“I-I’m… sorry…” he stammered out.

“DON’T SAY SORRY TO ME AFTER THE HELL YOU’VE PUT ME THROUGH!” she screamed.

Jeno’s heart pounded in his chest and his eyes gazed at her fearfully.

“I think it’s time you go home, (y/n), calm down and come back tomorrow,” the owner of the snack shack said, walking out of his office.

(y/n) nodded and let out a sniffle. Jeno didn’t know when she’d started crying. She grabbed the bag the owner handed her before running out of the shack.

“And you, young man. You and your boys get out of my shack. You’re all banned for a week. Come back in here acting like that and you’ll be banned permanently,” he said, eyes fixed angrily on Jeno.

Jeno turned to look back at his gang and sighed, waving a hand for them all to follow.

~

After the incident, Jeno hadn’t felt much like going on a ride with the rest of the gang. They were all perfectly fine, cackling and talking about the outburst, but Jeno couldn’t stomach it. The way she’d screamed. How upset she’d looked. He was done being a bully. Now he just needed to figure out how to go from bully to courting her, if that were even possible.

He parked his bike beside Jaehyun’s again, happy to see his brother was home and not at the rusty body shop he worked at.

He ran into the house, taking the front steps two at a time, and when he was inside, he made his way to the room he shared with Jaehyun.

“I need to borrow your boombox!” he yelled at the male.

Jaehyun, clearly not expecting the sudden intrusion, jumped off the small bed, stuffing the adult rated magazine he’d been “reading” under his mattress. Jeno rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time to find ways to ruin Jaehyun’s relationship with his girlfriend or rat him out to their mother.

“I. need. Your. boom. Box!” he enunciated.

Jaehyun stared at him incredulously.

“Uh… Why?” he asked.

Jeno shook his head angrily and shoved past Jaehyun to siffle through his side of the room searching for the large, heavy, cassette playing boombox his brother had bought a month ago.

“I need it to fix my (y/n) situation!” Jeno explained as he searched.

Jaehyun groaned.

“Movies aren’t real! That won’t work!”

Jeno ignored him. The guy always showed up at the window of the girl he was hoping to impress and the girl always forgave him. It’d work. It had to.

Jeno grabbed the large boombox from beneath Jaehyun’s bed, groaning at the weight. He heard Jaehyun sigh.

“Good luck then.”

Jeno didn’t need it. This would work. It had to work.

~

The ride to (y/n)’s house had proven to be a bit difficult as he struggled to hold the boombox against him. The box was large and heavy, with a small cassette player at the top that already had his chosen tape resting inside it.

The trip over was one of many stops and repositionings in an attempt not to drop the box that could very well make everything alright. He could just imagine her grinning in glee and running down to meet him, forgiving him for everything he’d ever done to hurt her.

By the time he got to her house, dusk was falling. He had maybe ten minutes before darkness engulfed the sky. Ten minutes in which he’d be tasked with making everything better.

He moved around the side of the common two story house and found (y/n)’s window easily. She appeared to be dancing to the music playing from the vinyl record player he could almost see perched by the window. It brought a smile to his lips. She looked so happy and carefree.

He could watch her all night, but he was here for a reason. He had to apologize for everything he’d ever done and confess.

He found a rock likely from her driveway by her window in the grass and picked it up. It was only one so he had to make it count.

He pressed play on the cassette player portion of the boombox and ‘It’s sad to belong’ came flowing out melodically from the speakers.

”Met you on a springtime day,”

He threw the rock hard against her window, flinching as he heard the rock bounce off. He was surprised it hadn’t broken the window.

”You were mindin’ your life and I was mindin’ mine too. The window opened and Jeno’s heart hammered in his chest.

“(y/f/n) (y/l/n)! I am so in love with you it hurts. I am so sorry for everything I’ve ever done to hurt you! All the bullying. All the teasing. I’m so sorry. You’re not fat or ugly! You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen! I just couldn’t show it! But I don’t care what my friends think! I love you! I want to be with you! I want to court you! Please forgive me!” he pleaded, not giving the girl a chance to say anything.

When he finished speaking, the song was nearing an end and his body was shaking. The girl looked almost close to tears again and Jeno grew hopeful that in any second, she’d run downstairs and jump into his arms.

“Yes it’s sad to belong to someone else when the right one comes along.”

“You love me huh? Well you have a funny way of showing it,” she sneered.

The window slammed shut and the drapes were immediately dropped, leaving Jeno alone in the darkness of the evening, his hopes dashed across the grass.

He’d waited too long to apologize.

[lilyharvord]

Meet Me at Our Spot

  HELLO EVERYONE!! Vet school turned its back for a day and I was able to finish this one for you all. ((: Here is a lovely little one shot that is rated M people, so please read responsibly. Office AU because someone asked for it once upon a time and the image of Cal in one of those well tailored shirts/suits with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows has lived in my head rent free since then. So enjoy!!! ((: 

also, I’m obsessed with that song Meet Me at Our Spot by Willow and The Anxiety (specifically the live version). So that’s the vibe were going for. (:

find it on Ao3 too: link

Mare Barrow always felt underdressed when she entered the massive glass and steel structure that housed the Calore enterprises. Even when she put on her only pair on heels, and a nice outfit, she felt like a smudge of dirt on the pristine floors. Today though, she was determined to not feel that way. She had a plan, a vision, and she was not about to let some socially constructed idea like dress code ruin it for her.

           Striding up to the main desk before the elevators that lead to the corporate side of the building, she planted herself firmly before Tiria and cleared her throat to announce her presence.

           The young woman looked up from the book she was scribbling things in and held up a finger as she spoke into the receiver cradled in her other hand.

“Of course sir. Yes, two on Friday.”

With a sigh, Mare braced her forearms on the counter and glanced out at the massive atrium next to her. Multiple people strolled by in their nice suits and tight business dresses, carrying portfolios and briefcases and talking heatedly about a number of things. She got a few looks from them for her baggy sweatpants, oversized jacket, and faded ugly sneakers. She simply smirked back at them in response, a glint in her eye that dared them to talk about her after they had passed.

No one had ever really gotten a good look at her here, and if they had, it was when she was quickly being ushered past this front desk and into the elevators behind it. She was, for all intents and purposes, a very well-kept secret. One that was mandatory to remain a secret, given her position and her affiliation with this place.

Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she would ever set foot in a place like this, let alone be associated with the circle she now tenuously walked through. It had its perks though, like getting to give a bright shiny middle finger smile to the people Farley would have spit at. Mare couldn’t exactly spit like she wanted to though, because she happened to enjoy being around one of them. And she was supposed to be on her best behavior when she was in this building. It was part of the stupid rules she had been forced to agree to a year ago.

Rule number one: No one can know your name, where you are from, and who you are.

Rule Number two: best behavior at all times when you are in the building or near him. No exceptions.

Rule number three: You are not allowed to show up unannounced or uninvited.

           Well rule number three could just go fuck itself today, and rule number two could join it. The rules were just a way of making sure that the pristine reputation of this place didn’t get tarnished in the tabloids. She had laughed herself hoarse when they brought her into that dim conference room and dropped the pile of papers with the rules outlining everything in front of her. She never thought getting into a relationship would feel like a contract or a business deal but somehow this was made into one. Then again, the Calore family could make a business deal out of a child’s pretend game.

“Yes sir, I will let them know. Thank you for confirming, we will see you then.”

Tiria snapped the receiver back into the cradle and turning a scrutinizing eye to Mare she quirked a perfectly manicured brow. Every front desk girl in the world honestly looked the same to Mare, and in this place, there was no exceptions.

“Can I help you?”

“I have an appointment.” Mare said as she pressed onto her toes and pointed with a finger randomly into Tiria’s book.

The girl looked down at the line Mare pointed to with a frown while Mare swiped the key card Tiria always kept just under the ledge with her other hand. Tucking it into her pocket, she forced her eyes wide in a fake showing of bewilderment as Tiria gave her a contempt glare when there was nothing on the line.

“I could have sworn I called!” Mare gasped as she pressed herself up onto the counter to teeter further over it while her feet dangled. Damn these stupid things were high. She should have worn heels just so she could actually see over the top of the counter. “Maybe I should have called to confirm.”

“Miss Barrow, please stay on that side of the counter.” Tiria sighed as she leaned back in her chair.

Sliding down and dropping with a huff, Mare crossed her arms, trying to mimic the expression she saw most of these people give when they didn’t get what they wanted. “I want to go up.”

           Forcing her sigh through her nose so it wasn’t as obvious, Tiria shook her head and adjusted a pen that had moved out of its perfectly straight line. “You’re not supposed to be here today. Don’t make me call security.”

           “Well that would announce my presence.” Mare argued before picking up her backpack. “Besides, I’ll only be ten minutes.”

           “Miss Barrow, I like my job and want to keep it. Leave.”

           Letting out her own exaggerated sigh, Mare threw her hands up and spun on her heel to leave. “Honestly, you���d think I’d get a free pass giving who I’m dating in this place.”

           Peeking over her shoulder to see if Tiria was still paying attention, she smirked as the girl dropped her head to write something down. One of the benefits of everyone looking down on her here was that as soon as she turned around, she was out of sight and out of mind. It made sneaking around easier.

           Spinning back around, she scurried over to the elevators, ducking below the ledge of the counter slightly in case Tiria looked up again. Humming a song she heard on the radio to herself, she swiped the card and pushed the button to call the elevator. She had joked once this place was locked up tighter than a military institution, only to learn there was a reason for that. She doubted she could just swipe a key card and sneak into the Pentagon though.

           The doors opened with a little ding, and she glanced over her shoulder once before darting in and pressing the button for the top floor. She had to swipe the key card again and punch in a four digit code she memorized weeks ago, but the doors still slid shut and the massive glass box rose.

           Grinning like a fiend, Mare glanced over her shoulder at the green land stretching out behind her. She had to borrow Bree’s car to drive out to this place, and it almost didn’t make it. Her brother’s check engine light had been on since he bought the car, but he assured her it could make it the fifty mile trip and back. It had coughed the whole way, but it got her here. Beyond the trees she could just make out the highway she took with cars rushing along it.

           The first time she saw this place, she was afraid of it. Why was it so far away from everything, why was it so tucked away? What were they trying to hide behind the wall of trees? She hadn’t entire believed the excuses they gave, but she was at least certain they weren’t building nuclear weapons at this place.

           The doors slid open silently to a long hallway with dark floors and another bank of windows for a wall. Stepping out into the sunshine, Mare strolled forward, adjusting her hair and jacket as she went. Turning a corner, she passed a few smaller offices that belonged to some of the board members that held staff positions. The only one that was closed belonged to one of the only people she really, really didn’t want to see.

           Volo Samos made her nervous. If there was anyone who might be trying to make a nuclear weapon in this place, it was that man. She edged by his office, glancing through the swaying vertical shades to see if he was actually there or he had left for lunch. He was sitting at his desk on the phone.

Scurrying past him, Mare quickened her pace. If he was here, then the rest of the board might be too. Which meant she might be walking in on a meeting. Not exactly the best option, and neither was sitting outside in the hall and waiting.

           She had been so certain that there was nothing happening this week. She had planned everything around that fact. Maybe she should have called… just to make sure before she drove all the way out here.

           Before she knew it though, she was standing before the heavy dark wood doors at the end of that hall. She had never been nervous to open them. They were intimidating with an exterior that was meant to deter people, but once you opened them and peeked inside there was nothing to fear, just like with the man behind them. She knew that, and yet, she had to squash the shake in her hand as she nudge the door open a fraction.

           The office was empty.

           Throwing the door open all the way, she stepped inside and glanced awkwardly around the space. She had spent enough time in here that she knew there were very few places to hide. Not that Cal would have any reason to hide in his own office. Pursing her lips she pushed the door closed and stormed over to the desk before throwing her bag down behind it and tossing herself into the chair. It spun in a slow circle with her momentum until she faced the back windows. Slouching down she tried to determine her next move with a pout. Maybe he had left for lunch. It wouldn’t surprise her. If the board members were here, then he might have had to play the good CEO and daddy’s boy he was supposed to be and taken them all to lunch to placate them. But Volo was here… so maybe they hadn’t gone to lunch?

           She had put makeup on for this surprise. Honestly, was it so hard for him to be in the place he was supposed to be at this time?

           Forcing out a sigh, she crossed her arms and spun the chair back around with her toes to look at the papers scattered around the desk. Cal was perhaps one of the most messily organized people she had ever met. He was an oxymoron himself though, so it only made sense. She picked up a thick stack of papers that were clipped together and lifted one of the corners between her finger and thumb like it was radioactive. She didn’t understand a word on the next page or the numbers scribbled in the margins. Putting it back in its place she glanced at the few pictures he kept on his desk.

           The first time she had been in his office he had been on a phone call, and she had to entertain herself. She had picked up the pictures and made up the stories behind them while he watched her out of the corner of his eye. The picture of the two little boys crouched and playing in the mud on the edge of a lake was her favorite. She had been confused by it at first, until she saw the one next to it, with the same two boys almost a decade later in front of the Roman Coliseum.

Cal and his brother vaguely looked like brothers. They had similar features, but they wore them very differently. Where Cal was tall and broad, his younger brother was lean and sharp. Their eyes were strikingly different, but it was to be expected. She’d met Maven twice in the year she’d dated Cal. The first time was when he flew home for their father’s retirement party. He’d been quiet and reserved the whole evening until Cal dragged him out for a drink with her after to introduce them, properly as Cal had teased. When the brothers were alone and not around their father, they were different people. Maven especially. He seemed to soften, to melt a little bit. It had surprised her that someone could be so different just because the personnel around them changed. But Maven was a master of it.

The second time she’d seen him, Cal dragged her halfway across the world to Scotland to surprise Maven on his birthday. Cal’s brother lived as far from their father as possible, and honestly, Mare didn’t blame him. Unfortunately, Cal wasn’t afforded that luxury. Hence the rule book she had to follow.

           He had a picture with his uncle next to that. The man was a few years younger than her father, but he caried those years poorly. Still, he adored Mare,  and she didn’t have to pretend to tolerate him, unlike most of the other people that surrounded Cal at a given time.

A picture with his father was next to that one. It was a close second favorite of Mare’s. She couldn’t stand his father, the man was insufferable, but she loved to look at the younger version of Cal. He looked impossibly different as a kid, so different she almost hadn’t recognized him in the picture. She had told him that he reminded her of a taffy piece that was pulled too long in that picture. He was only ten in it, but his legs were already too long for him, and he was thin as a pole. He certainly had grown into his body, but the smile he gave to the camera there… he only gave it to her now. Or at least, she thought he did. She’d never seen him smile that brightly at anyone else.

           Next to that, tucked almost behind the other pictures was a photograph of a young woman in a window box with a toddler resting on her legs. She smiled at him, clutching his hands in hers, completely unaware of the camera trained on her. Cal didn’t talk about it, or the woman in it, but Mare wormed it out of Julian that Cal’s mother was a sore subject with everyone. Even though she was smiling in the picture, Mare could almost sense the sadness that radiated from her. She didn’t look much older than Mare in that picture. No doubt she had been tied up with the same strings and restrictions Mare faced now. If that were the case, Mare wasn’t surprised she had been so sad. The rules and regulations that came with dating a powerful person were like a cage. It worried Mare some days. She didn’t like being confined, but when she was with Cal away from all of this, she didn’t feel that way. It was only when they were together around other people that she did. More oxymorons where the man was concerned.

           The door into the office opened and Mare snapped to attention as Cal stepped in. His hands were full with papers he shuffled through while balancing his phone on his shoulder and speaking with someone. He’d nudged the door open with his hip and because of that, he had yet to turn and face her.

           Even though she hated all the restrictions she had to face while she dated him, she knew they didn’t truly bother her because he was hers. All of him carefully folded into a suit that hugged every muscle made her stomach tighten and other parts flutter. And all of it was hers, some nobody from a backwater city block. She sometimes felt like a tiny dragon hording a single coin when she was with him. She didn’t have much to her name, never had and probably never would, but he was hers. She wasn’t sure if she would get to keep him, but she planned to enjoy every last second that she could with him.

           Her lips curled into a smile as she leaned back in the chair and crossed her leg over the other, trying to paint a picture of coyness. It was probably not the best showing of it, but Cal was a miserable good boy who couldn’t handle anything remotely teasing.

           The papers ended up on the other side of the desk from her, while he shifted to hold the phone and rest his other fist on the table. The muscle in his jaw that always twitched when he was irritated fluttered like a bird’s wing now. He pressed his fingers into his closed eyes as if he could force whatever headache was probably there away with just that touch.

           “We didn’t agree to that when we signed the papers. They can’t come back and impose that restriction on us now.”            She squirmed in the chair at the tone in his voice. There were multiple sides to Cal that she had seen. There was her Cal, who had no idea how to dance, and who blushed whenever she teased him. Then there was the Cal she sometimes got at one in the morning who would grab the inside of her leg while he whispered in her ear exactly what he was going to do. Then there was this Cal. The one who had been heir to an empire company since the day he was born, and who could command a room like it was any other Tuesday. Sometimes it was hot to watch him do it. Right now though, it was the opposite. He wasn’t happy with something, and it honestly sounded like the last thing he needed was her here.

           She decided she definitely should have called before coming.

           Edging the chair back with her toes, it squeaked as it went over the floor, and his eyes darted up to her before widening.

           With an awkward smile, she wiggled her fingers in greeting before spinning the chair to face the back windows. Her cheeks were burning, and there were other parts that had melted to a very dangerous temperature. The look he gave her as he looked up at been fleeting, but it had been enough to put her on the teetering edge of deciding to grab him and pin him to the desk, or ask him to do just that with her.

           “Deal with this. Don’t call back until you have.”

           The silence following his words told her, that she was now the singular focus of his attention. His gaze was like a brand even through the leather of the chair. Crossing her arms and adjusting her posture accordingly, she went to spin the chair back around. He beat her to it though, spinning it to face him and tipping it back slightly so she had an easier time looking up at him.

           “I don’t believe I left anything at the apartment.”

           “You left me.” Mare pouted with a withering stare in his direction.

           “Very funny. Now how did you even get up here?”

           With a smirk, Mare fished the ID card out of her pocket and flashed it before him proudly. He snatched it from her hand with a startled gasp.

           “Mare… what the… what are you a thief now?”

           “Obviously.” She waved her hand to dismiss his comment before gesturing to the card. “You should really get lanyards to put those on by the way. I just kinda grabbed that off her desk. And if I got it anyone else could have—”  

           “You can’t go around stealing people’s ID cards. She needs this to get around the building.” He gestured at her with it, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

           “Well I needed it more in the moment.” Mare reasoned with a smile before leaning back in the chair. She didn’t really feel that bad, but the worry starting to etch itself into Cal’s brows did make her feel a little guilty.

           He tossed it unceremoniously onto the desk before sitting on the edge of it and massaging his face slowly with his hands.

“While I’m happy to see you, I don’t have time to deal with anything outside of work today.” His words were muffled by his palms but she could still hear every stressed syllable. Even when his work got stressful, which it undoubtably was at times, he still could push it aside whenever he saw her. Whatever he had been on the phone about had been serious, serious enough that he actually wasn’t all that happy to see her.

           “What happened?” Mare asked, scooting the chair close enough for her to set her hands on his thighs and squeeze gently. Now was not the time to be thinking about just how well that suit fit, but the thought still crossed her mind. Along with a few choice other thoughts.

           “Stupidity.”

           Cocking her head to the side, she waited for him to elaborate. It took him a moment, but he eventually dropped his hands and let his head fall back to look to the ceiling.

           “We signed papers on a deal a year ago. When that happens it’s done, the contract is sealed and stored away. In that contract, we agreed that should anything happen with a shipment, we were not liable. The group we shipped to doesn’t like that anymore, because a 30.5 million dollar shipment got lost.”

           Now it made sense to her. This wasn’t anger, or frustration. This was stress. Stress she could handle.

“How does one misplace 30.5 million dollars?” She teased before running hers hand up and down his legs.

“I don’t know. But there are five different parties all in a screaming match over it, including us. And if the other four don’t back down anytime soon, I’m going to have to find 30.5 million dollars somewhere.” His eyes darted down to her as she brushed her thumbs along the inside of his thighs. Glancing up through her lashes at him then, she tilted her head ever so slightly.

“And that is hard because?”

“Does it look like I have 30.5 million dollars lying around to just throw at someone?” He reasons, and the dips in his cadence brought a smirk to her lips. Now she had his attention. Pushing up to her feet she slid between his knees until she could drape her arms around his neck. Immediately, his hands found her hips and hugged her closer still.

“I’m sure there are one or two things you could sell in this building to cover that cost.” She ran her thumb along the back of his neck, before tracing the spot at the base of his jaw. His head tilted in the opposite direction, trying to escape the feather light touch. Both of them knew exactly what it did after all. Smirking at his reaction, Mare ran her other hand along his shoulder, tracing the contours she knew by heart.

“I bet I could pick out one of two things.”

“I don’t need to find the thirty and a half because it’s not our fault what happened.” He squeezed her hips, and even though she could see the fight in his eyes, it was quickly guttering. The tension in his shoulders was still more than she would have liked, but that tended to be where he kept most of it.

“So stressed out over something that isn’t even your fault.” She teased as she pressed her thumb into the knot closest to his neck. He tensed under her, but didn’t speak. At this point, his voice had already dropped an octave, and Mare had known him long enough now to know that when he went silent like this, he was trying to hide just how far she had pushed him. “Do you want help releasing some of that?”

“Not unless you can get up in front of five different boards and convince them otherwise.” She had to admire how even he kept his voice. It still wavered in a few places as he tried to remain composed under her scrutiny. Dropping her hands from around his shoulders to land on his thighs again, she squeezed hard enough to emphasize her next point.

“That sounds like a challenge.” Mare actually witnessed his pupils dilate as she dropped her voice an octave too. “You and I both know it’s not much of one. I can be very persuasive.”

“You’re gonna get us both in more trouble than I can get us out of.” He whispered to her, a tiny smile lifting the edges of his lips. The glint in his eye made her stomach flutter, especially as he started to finger the waistband of her pants. She didn’t want him to put his hands under it just yet though, she still had one surprise she wanted to save.

Pulling back to slip out of his arms, she dropped back into the chair with a proud smirk. “Then I see no reason to not walk me down there, call up these assholes, and have me deal with them.”

His hands grasped the air where she had been a second ago as his mind failed to register her abrupt disappearance. Frowning, he leaned forward to grab the arms of the chair and pull her close again. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she watched him look her over and hold for a little too long on her lips.

“I’d love to see them try and deal with you.”

Oh she was going to make him sweat so very much.

Grabbing his face and yanking it down to hers, she crushed her lips against his. He tasted like mint toothpaste, and he smelled like that cologne she bought him for Christmas. Gisa said it was cheap, but he’s smiled and thanked her for it anyway. And now he was wearing it. The very idea sent a thrill through her.

With a groan, he slid his hands along her legs and then underneath them to grab her ass and hike her out of her chair until she was flush against his chest. Her lips curled into a smile as she took his lower lip between her teeth and pulled hard enough to draw a sound from the back of his throat. Knotting her fingers in his hair, she tugged and whispered, “You get to deal with me first.”

His eyes opened, barely an inch from hers, and the look in them sent a shiver down her spine. When he looked at her like that, it drove her half mad every time. “Put me down and I’ll show you just how persuasive I can be.”

He set her down with exaggerated stillness, making sure to drag her body along his so she could feel every inch of him. Smirking at getting her way, Mare nudged him back until he was sitting on his desk. Bracing her hands on either side of him, she asked, “Which do you want first? Surprise one, or surprise two?”

His brow quirked, and he slid a hand around her waist to pull her between his legs. “I want you, just you.”

When his voice dropped that deep, it made it very difficult to stay focused on what she had planned. But she wanted to see him squirm, and if there was anything Mare Barrow was, it was persistent.

“Surprise number two it is.” She grinned like a cat with a mouse as she hooked his belt with a finger and trailed it along the waistband of his pants to the buckle. Humming to herself, she undid it, sliding it through each loop like a needle with thread. When it was fully out, she held it up with a wink. “Give me your wrists.”

Even in the heat of it all, his cheeks burned. Immediately he put his hands behind his back. Pouting at his movement, she lowered the belt. “It’s no fun if you don’t play along.”

“Can’t be restrained. I may have to get to my phone.”

“Then I’ll answer it and tell them you’re busy.” She teased before cupping the back of his neck and pulling him close to ghost her lips across his. He sighed, and the tension in his shoulders melted as she ran her hand along one side. She loved when he scrambled in these moments. Locked between a rock and hard place, he was like turtle on its back. If all she had to do to knock him down was insinuate like this, she would do it every night.

When he pulled away with narrowed eyes, she released a mock exasperated sigh and tossed the belt away. “Fine, next time.” Without giving him a moment of relief, she unbuttoned his pants and tugged to start sliding them off. “But since it’s my job to help you relieve stress, here’s what I’m going to do.”

He visibly swallowed, even as he helped her slide his pants off. Running her hands up his legs after she dropped them, Mare chewed on her lip. “If you can keep it together for longer than ten minutes, I will let you do me from behind.”

His eyes widened, shock pouring out of every pore of his body. She hated that position, and always refused it. It was the most degrading thing, she insisted. If a man was going to fuck her, he should look her in the eye while he did it. She may be trash from the other side of the tracks, but she knew her worth.

           “Ten?” He breathed, his eyes darting to the clock on the wall next to them.

           “Ten.” She confirmed before crouching down. “But it has to be ten. If you cheat, I’ll know because I will be keeping track of the time.”

           His mouth opened to refute before closing with a snap.  She could see him working it over, trying to determine whether or not she would play fair. She never really did, but this time she made a promise to herself that she would. Besides, she trusted him to at least make the whole experience entertaining.

           “Clock starts when I do.” She teased before tugging on the waistband of his boxers, making the elastic snap back. He tensed at the feeling, until she pulled them off too.

           Perhaps it was the fact that she had snuck up here, or maybe it was the fact that anyone—including one of the most prestigious board members—could walk in on them at any second, but the sight of him sent electricity along every nerve in her body.

           It was ten minutes. He wouldn’t make it to five, she told herself as she dragged her tongue along her lower lip. With that thought for reassurance, she gripped his thighs and closed her mouth over his cock. Immediately she felt the muscles in his legs tense, and his breathing hitched. She hummed, almost laughing at his reaction as he immediately grabbed the hair on the back of her head and pulled. She slid back an inch before diving back down, taking more than she had before. The groan he released was loud enough that she almost paused to make sure no one had heard. There was the fun in this, she supposed, getting caught might be exciting.

           “Mare.” He gasped as she continued her ministrations, and began to trail her nails along his skin up to his hips. Forcing her head down further, he muttered a breathless apology when she gagged. Digging her nails and fingers into his skin, she smiled and hummed again.

           “Fuck.” He spit the word like poison and bucked against her, earning another hum from her. “Not fair, that’s not fair.” He panted as she picked up the pace of her work.

           His finger dug into her scalp as he pulled even harder on her hair. She stayed on like a leach though, stifling a laugh at his squirming. His other hand gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white, and his legs tensed in time with each of her movements. But the stubborn bastard kept it together, and no matter what she tried in her arsenal, he only cursed and gripped that desk until she thought it might splinter.

           “Ten,” he crowed with a breathless laugh. “That’s ten.”

           Mare snapped away with a grunt, swiping her hand along her mouth, smearing the lip gloss across her cheek. Glowering up at him, she grumbled a curse word that would have made her mother slap her across the mouth. A deal was a deal.

           “Don’t look so bitter about it.” He teased, before cupping her face and lowering himself to capture her lips. His tongue darted along hers as his fingers gently pushed the hair he had pulled behind her ears.

           When she pulled away for air, her chest ached and the space between her legs ached even more. “I’ve got one more surprise for you.” She rose to her full height, and had the pleasure of seeing a bead of sweat roll down from his hairline. He had barely made it. If she was being honest, she would say that she hadn’t been keeping track of the time. She’d lost all of it to the feeling of his hips rocking and the tension of his muscles.

           Backing away a step, she winked at his confusion. “Remember a few weeks ago when I went to mall and made you go find something to do?” She fingered the zipper of her jacket, another bolt of electricity ran down her spine as he straightened up, completely attentive to her. “I was saving this for your birthday, but I got tired of waiting.”

As she went to unzip the jacket, he leaped, catching her hands almost knocking her over. Scrambling to stay on her feet, Mare let him take her whole weight as she gasped. “Fucking hell Cal—”

“Let me.” He smirked as he straightened her up and grabbed the zipper before she could. With a gentle tug, he unzipped it halfway, his eyes darkening again as he caught sight of the top half. She’d picked it carefully, the first time she’d ever done something like that honestly. Normally she grabbed things off the rack and hoped it matched. This though, she had taken her time selecting.

He had the jacket off in less than a heartbeat, and his fingers danced along the thin black lace of the corset. His eyes followed his hands as he searched the whole thing over, making her swallow in uncertainty. He trailed a knuckle along one of the many straps, his teeth obviously working at the inside of his cheek. Gently, he grabbed the waistband of her sweat pants and pulled them down as he dropped into a crouch before her. His eyes widened at the matching bottoms.

Immediately, his hands gripped the back of her legs as he glanced up at her. The weight of that stare could crush her if she didn’t realize that it was the most reverent of gazes. He looked at her like she had put the stars in the sky, and hung the moon too. It she was honest, she would admit that it might go to her head a little bit ans that the smile she gave him was mostly fed by that. She could bring this man to his knees by simply standing in a pair of lacy panties.

           “Where,” he voice cracked on the word, and his fingers dug into her hamstrings a little more before he dragged his lips up the inside of her bare thigh. “Where did you keep this?”

           Threading a hand through his hair, she exhaled in a sigh as his lips grazed the seam along the inside of her thigh. “You like it?”

           “I’ll like it better when it’s on the floor.” He murmured before sliding his hand up to grip her ass again. She almost yelped, and grabbing his shoulders she let out a breathless laugh as he pressed more kisses along the inside of her thigh.

           Standing up, he kept his hand on her as he lifted her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and let him spin her around to the desk. With a quick sweep of his hand, he sent the papers all over it to the side before laying her down on it. With a tug, he dragged her back to the edge so she was still straddling him and braced his hands on either side of her head. She panted as she watched his lips curl into a hint of a smile.

           “Forget fucking you from behind.” He murmured, before lowering himself to trail his nose along her sternum. “I want to see every inch of you in this.”

           She grinned triumphantly as he slid a hand up her side to squeeze her breast, made far more generous with the help of the corset. It had been a good idea to listen to the pushy sales girl just because of that. “Good thing you don’t have to take it off.”

           His brow quirked in confusion, and sliding her hand down her body, she opened her legs a little wider to brush her fingers along herself. “Made sure it would be easy for you. Didn’t want you to feel intimidated by all the straps and buckles.”

           The snort he let out made her laugh, and she smiled as he stole the sound from her lips with a kiss. Rubbing his hips against hers, he lifted them off the table slightly until she was arched against him. Groaning when she felt how hard he was, she dug her nails into his arms, and said, “If I knew all it took to get you like this was wearing a pretty scrape of lace, I would buy sexier panties.”

           “I happen to like the panties you already own.” He teased before reaching between her legs for the bundle of nerves there. Rubbing in a tortuously slow circle, he grinned down at her as she craned her head back so her hair spilled across the desk. Grabbing onto the edge above she tried to grind against his palm, seeking further friction.

           Dropping his lips to her neck, he let his finger slide down to penetrate her. Groaning loud enough that she actually slapped her other hand over her mouth, Mare arched until her chest was smashed against his. He let out his own pleased sound at how wet he found her, and let her grind against his palm.

           “Can you last ten minutes?” He whispered in her ear before catching her earlobe with his teeth and pulling lightly. Mare twitched in response to the movement of his finger inside of her, whimpering when he pressed a kiss to the point where her pulse pounded in her neck. And although this was heavenly, she’d be damned if he won at this.

           Setting her jaw, she squeezed her legs together, earning a laugh from him as he withdrew his hand and brought his fingers to his lips. Sitting up quick enough to make herself dizzy, she grabbed his wrist to stop him from putting those fingers in his mouth. He froze as she closed her lips around his fingers and glanced up at him through her lashes. Releasing them with a pop, she watched his pupils dilate until they swallowed almost his entire iris.

           Smirking when a blush exploded across his cheeks and neck, she licked her lips and said, “You won’t even last that long.”

           Without speaking, he put a hand to her shoulder and slowly guided her back down to the desk as he stood over her. He pinned her hips down with his other hand as he tilted his head to the side ever so slightly and said, “I will take that as a challenge.”

           Mare’s heart fluttered in her chest at the tone of his voice, and how deep it had dropped. Keeping her breathing as level as possible, she closed her eyes as he traced a hand along her side and cupped her breast before leaving open mouthed kissed along the column of her throat.

“Cal,” she breathed his name in a gentle exhale as she threaded her fingers into his hair at the same time that he slipped his hand to her entrance again and pressed his palm against her.

           “Say my name like that again.” He whispered in her ear. “And I will do anything you want.”

           “Anything?” Her voice hitched as she ground against his palm, her eyes fluttering as she sought out the friction he denied her as he teasingly pulled away.

           His lips pulled up into a hint of a smile as he withdrew enough that she chased him with her lips. Their breath mixed as he rested his forehead against hers, and through her lightly fuzzy and crossed vision she could see the depths of his irises. Dark gold, and amber like honey. She could drown in them and be happy.

“Anything.” He answered her.

           Lowering herself back to the desk, she pulled him with her while her other hand threaded between them to grab his hip and pull him closer. Without breaking eye contact, he let her guide him to her entrance. With a sigh, she tipped her head back and locked her ankles behind his hips as he pulled her completely to the edge of the desk.

           “Cal.” She whispered as she grabbed the top of the desk again and squeezed her eyes shut.

           “That’s my girl.” He replied before putting a hand on her hip to keep her pinned to the desk and pulled out before pushing in deeper. Mare bucked against him, gasping as she clenched her thighs together around his hips, pulling him closer. Bracing his other hand next to her head, he dropped his chin as he moved in and out.            She only regretted doing this here for half a second, since she had to contain whatever sounds she made to minimal volumes. The last thing they needed was Volo Samos hearing something or coming to investigate what he was hearing. Although that might have been part of the thrill. If they were at her apartment, she could be as loud as she wanted, even with the window open. The traffic outside was loud enough to mask anything that happened in her shoebox apartment.

           “Harder.” She panted as she dragged her nails down the side of his nice shirt. She wanted to tear it off of him, to get to his skin underneath. He caught her hand before she could do just that, and pinning that hand above her head he obliged her. She half yelped, half gasped as she slid along the desk until her head almost dangled off the edge.

           Like a light switch flickering on and off, the light beyond her closed eyelids alternated with each meeting of their hips. She could feel the change in pace as he sensed her reaching her climax, and her lips curled into a pleased smile even as she arched slightly, hoping to escape him to last longer. He laughed softly at her attempt and pulled her toward him until she was dangling off the desk and had to grab on or risk falling to the floor. He caught her, but she still gasped as the change in angle pushed her completely over the edge so she shattered like glass. Every muscle in her legs contracted and her chest hitched on the rapid inhale she took. Curling around him as much as she could in her position, she stifled any other sound that wanted to come out.

           The best part? She knew she had lasted longer than ten minutes. The worst part? She wanted him again. And there was no way that was going to happen because as she sat there panting after he put her back on the desk and bent over to kiss her lightly, she heard the subtle ringing from a cell phone.

           “You’re getting a call.” She panted in his ear as she ran her fingers through his hair. It was damp now, and his chest pushed into hers with every inhale he took around his rapid heartbeat.

           “It can wait.” He murmured in reply before pressing a kiss against her jaw again.

           “I thought thirty and a half million dollars meant a lot right now.” She laughed as she traced a finger down the column of his spine from his neck to the middle of his back. He turned the full force of his gaze on her and she almost melted into a puddle in the heat of it.

           “You’re worth more than that. More than any deal, any job.” He kissed the tip of her nose. It kept her from turning away to hide the blush that exploded across her cheeks. He traced a thumb along it, and smiling at her he continued, “Who’s blushing now?”

           With an amused roll of her eyes, she traced a finger along his jaw in response to his light touches. This close to him, she realized he was beautiful, in the same way a marble statue in a museum was. She used to think he belonged in places like that, surrounded by priceless and irreplaceable objects that everyone paid to see.

           “I love you.” She tilted her head to the side, testing the phrase again. It was only the third or fourth time she had used it seriously with him. The weight of it settled over him, and he brought her fingers to his lips to press a kiss to them.

           “I love you.” He dropped the hand and pulled her into a sitting position so she could drop her legs from around his waist. Still connected with him, she trailed her fingers along his arms and drank her fill of him with her eyes. A part of her knew that someday she would lose him. Nothing in her life was ever truly hers and he luck had always been rotten, it was why she never bought a lottery ticket. And of course, his father did not like her. He wanted her gone because he saw her as an obstacle, or a hurdle his son would trip over. It took everything to not dig her fingers into Cal’s arm when they were around his father. Maybe if she did so, she could tattoo herself onto him and never lose him.

           “What are you thinking so deeply about?” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and pressed another kiss to the tip of her nose.

           “Nothing important.” She lied effortlessly, the smile she conjured for him almost real. If he saw through it he didn’t comment. The phone rang again from its sad position on the floor where it had ended up, and this time they both looked at it. The screen was lit up and he grimaced at the number showing on it.

           “I think you have to take that one.” Mare whispered before pressing a kiss to his cheek and sliding away from him to hop off the desk. He managed to catch her, and bring her to his chest before she could escape. Closing her eyes, she let herself melt against him for a second, inhaling the smell of his cologne and the smell of her that was now on him.

           When he pulled away to grab the phone off the floor and his pants from their pile near it, she sank back into the chair and watched his back as he finally answered the call. Whatever he was saying was like a buzz against her ears. She could only see him right then: the man he was, and the one he could become. She hated what he was in a small part of herself. But he wasn’t… he wasn’t like the other people he had spent most of his life around. And neither was his brother. Maybe that’s what that life did to people like them. Pushed them so hard that they turned out the opposite of their parents.

           He glanced at her with a smile as he managed to step into his pants with one hand and pull them up. She conjured up another smile for him and stood to fix his hair. He leaned down far enough that she could do that while he went about stringing his belt back into his pants. She trailed her fingers along his chest and down to the buckle and wrestled his fingers from it to clasp it shut herself.

           By the time she had finished he was done with the call, and was sitting in silence watching her work. She glanced up at him through her lashes, but he cupped the back of her head so she tipped her head back completely to him. His thumb rubbed a soothing rhythm along the back of her skull as he whispered, “I have to go. They found a solution.”

           She nodded. “So I guess you don’t have to bring out the big guns and put me in front of them.” Her smile was easy even as she prepared to pull away from him again. He held her steady, staring into her eyes for a long moment.

Just after the silence had stretched too far, he whispered, “Thank you.”

           “For what?” She managed to disentangle herself from him, and turned to gather her clothes. If he was leaving she needed to disappear too. They couldn’t leave together though, or people might notice. And she did not need it getting back to his father that she had broken any of those stupid rules. Then she might as well consider this the last time she ever saw him. What a last time it would be though. It would live with her for the remainder of what she had heard his father call a measly insignificant little life.

           “Everything. You… you make me impossibly happy Mare.” He threaded an arm around her waist before pulling her back against his chest and laying a kiss on top of her head. She finally melted completely into his arms. Wrapping his forearms with hers to trap him for a moment longer she closed her eyes. Suddenly, she didn’t care about the rules she had agreed to. Rules were meant to be broken, and she had always excelled at doing just that. With him, she would break every rule and scatter the ashes of them to the wind.

[kim-miyeon]

ONE

Pairings: Lee Felix x Female Reader

Genre: VictorianAU!

WARNINGS: 18+, marriage, adultery, (Warnings vary on chapter.)

Word Count: 4.1K

m.list | prologue | two

London, 1963

The sound of the magazine pages  flipping slowly and the static of the small radio playing “Sally Go ‘round the Roses” was all that could be made out in the moment as the two girls laid in the bed opposite each other. 

“I’m bored Susan!” Margaret moaned and threw a pillow at Susan’s head as Susan turned and scoffed. 

“Margaret quit it! You almost ruined my Beatles magazine!” Susan grabbed the pillow and threw it back to Margaret who huffed.

Susan returned to flipping through the magazine as Margaret began to stare at the ceiling, pondering on what activities the two teenage girls should do on their Tuesday afternoon.

It was the beginning of their winter festivities. School had been out for not only a few days but Margaret and Susan were inseparable. Having been best pals since birth, the two had spent many hours laughing and crying and being incredibly mischievous as well. Which brought Margaret to her brilliant idea.

“Let’s go to your grandmother’s library.” Margaret sat up quickly as Susan turned to her friend in disbelief.

“You must have gone mad.” Susan responded, in any manner but excited at the idea. “You know we are not allowed there.”

“And why not? Because it is your grandmother’s wing of the home? She will never know this house is so incredibly large, how would anyone know?” Margaret cocked her eyebrow and Susan bit her lip. 

A more luxurious life of those in the upper class. That’s the world that Susan was born in.  Born into a family that had wealth and status, Susan had been exposed to every part of luxury. She lived in a comfortable home and it was large enough to house many people, which her mother always utilized for their large gatherings. But she knew ever since she was young that her grandmother’s library was a place that she was not allowed in alone. Her grandmother cherished her collection of books and always wanted to preserve them. But as much as Susan wanted to say no, the seventeen years of curiosity of what lied behind the doors of her grandmother’s den could not hold her back. Especially being one who cherished books and fairytales, what could be behind those doors would lead Susan into a world she always dreamt of.

“Come on Susan, your mother is out and your grandmother is taking a nap, they won’t know!” Margaret persuaded and Susan groaned.

“Fine.” Susan threw her legs over the side of the bed as Margaret shot up 

Susan and Margaret walked down the hallways of the large home, cocking their necks at every turn to be sure no no one knew of their whereabouts. The home felt so empty with each passing corridor, and the tall windows had their curtains drawn to keep the winter air away. The two girls turned the corner of the hallway to enter Susan’s grandmother’s wing of the home. Almost immediately could one see the large Kona dark wooden doors that led to a world unknown. Susan halted in her tracks and Margaret looked back as she had stepped ahead. 

“Are you okay? Do you want to head back?” Margaret asked and Susan shook her head. Both girls could feel the error in their choices to be here.

“I am just nervous, my heart is pounding in my ears.” Susan laughed unconfidently and Margaret sighed, trying to stay with the plan.

“It is a library, not a death chamber.” Margaret grabbed on to Susan’s hand and pulled her friend towards the large dark stained wooden doors. As they approached the library, Margaret outstretched her hand to the door handle and pushed her hand down to open only to find a sturdy opposing force.

“It’s locked!” Margaret groaned and Susan looked at her friend who was upset about the failed mission. But then fear ran through her veins when she heard the sound of a far too familiar snicker behind her.

“Of course it’s locked, dear…” Susan and Margaret turned around to find the owner of the voice, “I wouldn’t leave my library open when I am not present. I may be old, but I am no fool.” 

“Grandmother!” Susan exclaimed nervously to the elder woman, “I thought you were taking your afternoon nap!”

“The universe has a funny way of working, doesn’t it girls?” Susan’s grandmother spoke and walked further to the girls, holding keys in her hand.

“We weren’t meaning to be sneaky Grandmother, we were only curious.” Margaret spoke and Susan’s grandmother chuckled.

“I suppose young girls' curiosities get the best of them.” Margaret watched as Susan’s grandmother took the key to the library and inserted it into the lock. “I suppose it is time to share a bit of my world with you.”

Susan and Margaret watched as Susan’s grandmother pushed open the door, and the enchantment of how beautiful the library was struck the two girls. A scale so grand and modern. Books high up and two levels that overlooked below where a small dark wooden desk sat. Loose paper scattered across the desk with dull pencils nearby. Susan thought about the many days and almost nights her grandmother spent in her library and what on earth she must be studying.

The three ladies walked further into the library and Margaret gasped in awe.

“It’s so beautiful here.” Margaret sighed and Grandmother began to chuckle. 

“It’s my life’s work in one place, a sacred thing. Something two mischievous girls should not be around.” Grandmother smiled at the girls who smiled back. 

As the women slowly stepped further into the room, Susan’s gaze never retracted from the busy desk. Her eyes locked in on a very rubbish looking journal that sat open. Margaret and Grandmother carried on their conversation as Susan drifted off to the desk. She rounded the edges and dragged her fingertips along the dusty wood. Tilting her head to look at the journal clearly she saw a damaged old photograph of a young boy. Susan reached out to grab the small photograph and bring it closer to her eyes. He was standing not too far from the camera, it was hard to see the background but one thing that was clear was his smile. He had a beautiful almost breathtaking smile, it stole Susan’s breath for a mere minute. His hair, laying across his face, made it unable to see his eyes. But Susan could tell he was a gorgeous man. 

“Grandmother,” Susan called out and looked at the photo one last time before she turned her attention to Margaret and her Grandmother, “who is this boy?”

“Oh.” Grandmother’s voice hinted of sadness when she saw the photo, “his name is Felix. A young lad from many years ago.”

Grandmother walked closer to Susan and Susan looked down at the journal that had been opened. 

“Was he your friend?” Susan asked as she scanned over the words that were written in the journal. 

Grandmother stood next to Susan and she sighed as Susan looked back at her grandmother.

“He was not.” 

“Then why do you have a photo of this boy? Who’s journal is this?” Susan carried on in her curious mind as her Grandmother began to sigh as Margaret walked over to Susan to look at the photo of the boy.

“Inviting you into this room comes with the responsibility of telling you stories of years far before you.”

“A love story?” Margaret asked simply and Susan looked at the journal that was lying on the desk. Tracing her fingers over it.

“The journal belonged to a young maiden, who lived in this very home years ago.”

“Tell us about her.” Susan reached over her grandmother’s hand and her grandmother sat in the chair at the desk as the two other girls sat on the floor staring up at Grandmother.

London, 1898

The streaks of the sun splashed on the skin, as you laughed. Picking your feet up and trying not to tumble in the large field as you two ran. Your vision, covered in the hues of green and yellow, matching the weeds on the ground and as you look down you saw a hand in yours. Gripping you in the most odd mixture of gentle and security, wanting you to be free and yet holding you near. His hand was the softest, skin almost an illusion for there were no imperfections. At the edge of his wrists sat the ruffles of his shirt, white and stained with dirt and sweat. You trailed your glass beaded eyes up the clothes arm that is pulling you into the fields. Once you came to the collar of his neck you admired the length of his blonde locks as they rested near his shoulder, blowing softly in the air. You heard his faint deep chuckle and he turned softly to the side to take a glimpse of you. You saw his eyes connect with yours, feeling the intense spark fuel you and almost stole your breath. If this was love, you never wanted anything less.

If this.. was..

The deep rich smell of smoke ran through your nostrils as you fluttered your eyes open to the small lit candle resting on your night stand. The sharp light of the morning sun struck the room as Adelaide, your maiden, drew the curtains for you.

“Good morning Milady” Adelaide spoke cheerfully as she pulled in the window to lock. You peeped at her and smiled as you rose up and yawned.

Your day typically always began at 7:30am. Adelaide was no stranger to being on time, especially during weeks like this. 

“Good morning Adelaide. How did you rest?” You asked as Adelaide grabbed a pitcher of water and walked over to your bedside where a large bowl had been placed. Rosemary leaves had been placed at the bottom and you watched Adelaide pour the hot water over, feeling the steam hit your face and sighed in pleasure.

“I rested well, thank you. Did you sleep well with everything going on?” 

Adelaide walked behind you and went to grab the toothbrush and can of homemade soap and sat it down near the bathing rack.

“I tried at least.” You mumbled as you watched Adelaide keep moving to finish her morning duties.

“It isn’t an easy week I suppose. I will go and fetch your cup of tea this morning while I let you freshen up on your own.” Adelaide smiled at you as she made her way out your door and you went back to freshen up.

You grabbed the towel and soaked in it the water as you felt the warmth of the water relax you. Squeezing the excess water off the towel, you pulled the sleeve of your undergarment and wiped the skin.

Adelaide’s reminder of what this week meant for you was excruciating. For the past five years you had known this day would eventually come, but you had always hoped that if you had believed hard enough, it would never come. Time could pause and you could live happily.

You grabbed your hair and bent down to lay it in the water as you coated your hair in the warm liquid. You heard Adelaide’s footsteps approaching the door and you squeezed the water off your hair. 

“Your mother is awake.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance “Lovely. How does she seem?”

“Refreshed.” Adelaide shook her head in a sad way to you. 

You turned to her quickly, “Is it too late to run away? You wouldn’t say anything, would you?”

“You know I wouldn’t.” Adelaide grabbed your hands, squeezing them.

“Where to run is the issue.” You sighed and looked at yourself in the mirror. 

“Would you run to the states?”

“It would be fun. Imagine working and making my own money. Choosing my own life. Anything would be a more rewarding life than this. To be brought up to wed and bear children? To have a mind for everyone else besides your own?” You went on as you fumbled with your fingers as Adelaide began to help you stand to dress. Slipping your garments off as she helped you step into your gown.

“It’s the idea of feeling free, to do what I want, not what others want of me.” You continued as Adelaide turned you around and pulled the strings of your corset.

“To bear a day where I dress myself” You mumbled to yourself and Adelaide puked in the strings tighter making you yelp as she laughed.

“Are you stating that you do not want me to dress you?” She smiled and you sighed as she finished.

“It is your job to do so, but you were created for more do you not think?” You turned around to face Adelaide and she shrugged a bit.

“I suppose. I enjoy my job and I have a place to sleep and eat.” She softly said and you bit your lip in agreement.

“I will head down while I give you time to awake.” She smiled and began to head for the door.

“Thank you Adelaide.” You smiled as you turned to the mirror. 

“My lady” you heard Adelaide call out one more time.

“Yes? “

“I know this is a difficult week and things may not be the way you want them to, but know that I will always be by your side, as you are for me.” 

With that Adelaide left you to be alone in the room. Her words made you sad and yet filled with content. Marriage wasn’t a plan you had set yourself up for. It wasn’t something you wanted. You craved the feeling of being loved by someone not because of status and wealth, but because they say you and all your flaws. But you held a responsibility as the eldest, as your father’s daughter, to do what is necessary for the family and for your country.

But your mind drifted back to your dream. The boy. A man so unfamiliar but you felt as if you’d known him for years. Your heart ached feeling like you had fallen for an image of a man, created by your mind. But it felt real, he felt so real to you. 

A knock at the door brought you back to reality as you cleared your throat. “Come in!”

“Milady, your mother is requesting you for breakfast.” Adelaide peeked in as you looked at her and nodded in understanding.

As the door shut you turned to the mirror and took a deep breath in.

“Be strong, Y/N.” 

The halls of the home were long and made one weary as they strolled down. Your heart panicked with the unwanted anticipation that waited beyond the doors to the dining room. You could smell the aroma of the feast that called for you, already knowing that your mother has planned a rather larger gathering than you were expecting. Closer and closer as you approached you heard the laughter of people you knew the sounds of and once you reached the door that was guarded by your family's security men, you saw the faces of those you wished to not see.

“OH! My darling! The bride to be, you look marvelous this morning! Just GLOWING!” Your mother exclaimed and wrapped her arms around you squeezing you tightly in a hug. 

“Good..morning.. mama..” you tried to choked out as you were wrapped in her tight embrace. She pulled back and tidied up your dress and hair. 

“Beautiful as ever.” She smiled and you half smiled back before you noticed your father and your future in laws chatting a bit behind.

“Father, Sir Thomas and Mrs. Thomas, what a lovely surprise. I was not aware you would be joining us this morning.” You courtesy politely to them.

“Oh dear please, call me Lois.” Mrs. Thomas outstretched her hand to you, waving to tell you to stop your courtesy. You lifted your gaze to your future in laws and then to your father who was smiling at you in a sense of pride.

“I wasn’t aware you’d be back to join us this week, sir.” You quaked our to your father who smiled.

“I couldn’t miss my daughter’s wedding. Sir Thomas and I came back for the engagement ball tonight and the ceremony this weekend.” Your father spoke as he turned to his elder and you smiled softly in understanding.

This marriage wasn’t for you. It was for them. To raise your father’s rank by providing a woman to wed the son of the Field Marshall. An eligible bachelor that many women would have died for and yet you have known him your whole life. This arrangement has been in motion your whole life. 

“Is Gregory here?” You asked in more of a trembling tone. Mrs. Thomas chuckled a bit.

“Oh she’s nervous. Yes dear, he should be back soon.”

You mentally rolled your eyes as you had a keen feeling where your loving fiancé could be. You smiled and pulled a chair from the dining room table. 

“Please sit, Lois.” You offered as Mrs. Thomas sat.

You walked over to your mother where you reached out to grab a chair and one of the servant lads grabbed it before you.

“Here, Milady.” The man said and you looked at him and smiled. 

“Thank you James.” You whispered as he smiled softly to you, his dark hair falling towards his face. Sitting down you watched as the servant lads went to through the kitchen doors to grab the meal for the morning.

You knew it wasn’t normal for the young lady in the house to know the names of all you served, but you did. You never looked at the workers as being below you, they were people who deserved respect. So you treated them as such, like a friend. Like Adelaide, who is only a ladies maid but she is your closest friend.

You heard the sound of a child laughing running to the dining room as you saw your mother exhale frustratingly. Soon the young girl ran into the dining room, hair a mess and her dress not tightened. Barely had her shoe in her foot with a stocking while the other foot was bare. You giggled to yourself as the young girl ran past your mother who tried to fetch her and you heard Adelaide’s voice from afar.

“Clarissa!” 

Clarissa halted in front of you and you smiled at her, “Good morning y/n!” 

You embraced your young sister and kissed the top of her head as she pulled back and you noticed Adelaide had entered the kitchen standing next to your mother who was fuming.

“Now Clarissa, what did I tell you about your morning routine?” You started and Clarissa sighed and looked down at her feet.

“To respect Ms. Adelaide’s request and help.” Clarissa mumbled and you smiled gracefully.

“That is correct, now run along back to your room to finish your routine so that way you can join us for breakfast.” You ruffled her hair a bit as she looked up at you in admiration, smiling before turning back to Adelaide and retreating to her room.

“AND she’s good with children, oh dear, imagine.” Ms Thomas exclaimed to her husband implying a future where you would bear her grandchildren. You smiled most uncomfortably at the thought.

“Oh Gregory is here!” Your head snapped to the left side of the room as you spotted the man who you had to wed in a weeks time. His skin was flushed but glowed at the same time as you noticed his hair was a tad bit ruffed up. He wore his military uniform and presented himself in a poised matter. He was attractive, you could not betray that your eyes enjoyed the sight of him. But his heart was not as beautiful. You knew where his intentions were and were completely aware that they had been four inches deep in another woman just now. 

“I hope I am not late,” Gregory began as he turned to you and played his act most perfectly, “how honored am I to have the most beautiful fiancé,” 

Gregory spoke as he walked towards you and you stood from your chair to greet the man as he rushed quickly. “No need to stand my love, you have all waited long enough,”  he turned his attention to a servant lad, “Boy! Bring us the food at once!” 

Gregory sat next to you as you watched him. The smell of sweat and perfume reeked off his hair and neck and it made you boil with disgust. He looked at you for a moment and smiled. His orbs shined a sinful mixture of blue and grey as his dark strands of hair laid on his head miraculously well. He was a painted god, a devil in disguise as you knew. 

“You look beautiful.” He whispered close before placing a burning kiss to your cheek and you smiled at him.

The background noise of your elders conversing and the aromas of the food being brought out caught your attention. You took hold of the glass of water that sat across you as you took a sip from it. You felt the presence of a servant lad behind you as he placed your plate in front of you. You swallowed the water as you looked up to the boy and smiled.

“Thank you Langston. Do you mind grabbing a simpler plate for Clarissa as well? Oh! And some juice instead of tea?” You requested and the servant lad smiled and nodded.

“Will do Milady.” He said as he retreated back to the kitchen. 

You looked down at the plate, loaded with eggs, beans, ham, bacon, fish, and bread. There were sweeter treats placed in the middle of the table for all to share. This was typical, this meal was typical. You knew that there were less fortunate people in the country and you were living in a world full of the rich and selfish. 

That’s why you cared for the workers here. You saw the world differently than your family. You didn’t want life to be handed to you but rather felt pride when you worked hard for the things you wanted. That’s why this marriage was something you loathed. Gregory’s status and your father’s would blossom. More money, more luxurious parties, more of everything. The price to pay was your hand. You knew it wasn’t uncommon for some women to wed a man they do not love. But you wanted to fall in love. Something Gregory could not provide you.

You came from your thoughts when you heard the sound of Clarissa’s heeled shoes running towards the room once more. She was in a much better state than before and she hurried next to you as you and a servant lad helped her into her seat.

“Thank you Harry, but I can handle it from here!” Clarissa stated as a matter of fact and you giggled looking up at Harry who laughed a bit. 

“I can’t believe you all started eating without me!” Clarissa exclaimed at you crossing her arms.

“I had to request that the kitchen make you something special! I haven’t started eating quite yet.” You leaned to her and she smiled as she rolled her eyes. Before the both of you knew it, you saw a small hand with a plate of food placed in front of Clarissa with a side of freshly squeezed orange juice. 

“Here you are milady.” 

The voice of the lad hit a nerve in you that rushed your blood cold and skin so hot.. It was a deep, husky, charming voice. Something that could scare you but in a stranger way made you feel safe. Clarissa smiled at the boy and you took the opportunity to look up at him to thank him. But your eyes were met in a sudden pause to reality. 

Hair a soft pale blonde, skin soft to the look and to be more when touched. All you could see was the side of his face as he retreated away. Much like the dream this morning. Much like the boy you saw in your mind. 

Your heart beat was pounding in your ears as you fell completely in awe as the boy retreated back into the kitchen. You didn’t know him and you knew everyone in this home. Was he real? Was that the boy? Is your mind playing tricks on you? All you knew was that your body felt on fire, but your heart was aching. Who was that boy?

“Y/N!”

Your mind snapped back to where you were again, and all eyes on the table were on you. You looked at your mother who had called your name.

“Y-Yes?” 

“Love, are you alright? You look like you have seen a ghost?” Your mother exclaimed and you inhaled deeply to yourself remembering what you just witnessed and felt and you thought to yourself.

I might have just did.

Taglist: @exonations @sunshine-lixie @beaann  @yumi-xox​

Author’s Note: Hello everyone, after a much needed hiatus I have returned with my second series! I know I am posting on a Friday but I will be posting on Thursdays as usual!  Also THANK YOU for 400+ Followers!!! I am genuinely shocked by the love I have received from all of you! I am so excited for our new journey together and I can't wait to read your responses!! With love- KMY

UPDATE: Postings will now be on Fridays due to my schedule now! Thank you❤️

[lesbianlotties]

five times Deena and Sam met in secret (and one time they didn’t) - Final Chapter

Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: Fear Street Trilogy (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Deena Johnson Characters: Deena Johnson, Samantha "Sam" Fraser (Fear Street) Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Canon, High School, Cheerleaders, Band, Teenagers, Teen Romance, First Meetings, First Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Fluff, Happy Ending, Light Angst Words: 14470

Secrets.

Deena and Sam met by accident. They fell in love in secret.

But how long can they last together like that?

Chapter 6: no more secrets:

There were dreams. Afterward. When everything was over. Almost every night, all the survivors of the latest, and hopefully last, Shadyside tragedy, were plagued by dreams. Very often, the dreams were nightmares. Deena can’t wake Sam up after drowning her. Josh waits for Deena at the mall and his sister never returns. Sam kills her girlfriend, again and again. Simon takes Ruby Lane’s razorblade and kills himself. Kate’s stab wound doesn’t heal, something worse comes for her. Ziggy refuses to help and her sister haunts her decisions. Martin arrives at the mall in the morning and finds his new friends all dead. 

Nightmares. All of them. Terrible and cruel nightmares, but only dreams after all. It’s not easy to live with it, with all the trauma that this experience left them, but at least they get to live. It isn’t a comfortable title to carry, being a survivor. But, all things considered, they are all pretty fucking happy to be still alive.

However, it wasn’t just nightmares. 

After killing Nick Goode and ending the curse, everyone went back home so exhausted that nobody had any dreams at all. But, on the second night, Deena was blessed by dreams that were far from being nightmares. Sarah Fier’s reward to her, she guessed. And those dreams, those gifts from the girl that wasn’t a witch and put her entire story in Deena’s hand, they were as common as the nightmares, thankfully. Those dreams were blissful, sweet, comfortable, and just confusing enough. In those dreams, Deena was back in Sarah Fier’s story, sharing a simple meal with her brother, running through a field with her dog, dancing with her friends, sometimes doing nothing but staring at the love of her life, Hannah Miller. Or was that Sam’s face? When Deena woke up, it was never clear who was who. But the feeling of peace and safety and love remained, and often lasted throughout the day.

One night in particular, Deena was having the sweetest dream. It must have been summer, the woods were alive and the sun was a clear blue color, the breeze was gentle and the soft red moss under her feet made her feel like she was running on top of clouds. There was nobody chasing her, no dangers, no threats. Only Hannah Miller, holding her hand, running beside her, smiling the entire time and calling her name… 

Sarah.

Sarah…

“Deena!”

“What?!” Deena gasped, suddenly awake. Maybe her dreams weren’t always so bad, but the instinct to fight something evil at all times was sort of always there.

“Well, good morning,” Sam chuckled. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Deena sighed and fell back on her pillows. She covered her face with her hands and worked on slowing down her racing heart. “I’m okay, just…” she rubbed her eyes, and finally the image in front of her registered. “Sam? What are you doing here? What time is it?”

Sam’s grin only widened. She was sitting in Deena’s bed, dressed in some of her best clothes and looking a little too happy if such a thing was possible. “I was done a little early, so I decided to come help you get ready,” she said, “Wouldn’t want you to be late to your own graduation.”

“Right,” Deena smirked at her. She didn’t make any move to get up from her bed though, even less so considering now she had the perfect company.

Sam sent an unimpressed look her way and offered her a hand. “Come on, hurry up! Your dad’s making breakfast.”

“Wait, what?” Deena blurted out. That last sentence still sounded so wrong to her, even if it was true that she and Josh were seeing more and more of their father lately. “Hold on a minute,” Deena frowned at her girlfriend, “How did you get here? Did your…”

“My mom drove me,” Sam smiled, knowing exactly what was going through Deena’s mind.

The two girls couldn’t help but laugh at how absurd a little bit of happiness and normalcy felt after everything they had gone through. “This is messed up,” Deena chuckled.

“I know,” Sam agreed. “Don’t overthink it. Just… go get dressed so we can, you know, graduate.”

“I could… I guess I could do that,” Deena said slowly. She sat up in bed and moved closer to Sam. “Or… you know, we could do something else…” Deena whispered. She brushed Sam’s blonde hair off her shoulder and then simply rested her hand there. She didn’t miss the way Sam’s lips parted slightly, and the way those pretty blue eyes glanced at her lips.

“Deena…” Sam whispered her name in what probably was supposed to be a warning tone. But just as their lips brushed, she seemed to remember herself and she pulled back quickly. “Nope. No, no, no. I said I was going to help so you wouldn’t be late!”

“Come on!” Deena laughed and wrapped her arms around her girlfriend. “We can be late together,” she added. She noticed Sam rolling her eyes at her, but she also knew exactly how to look and talk to her to get exactly what she wanted. “Just one kiss,” Deena whispered.

Inevitably, Sam leaned in. Perhaps she knew right from the start that this was a losing battle. Perhaps it had been her plan all along that both of them would arrive late to their graduation.

--

The two girls sat in the back of the car, while Deena’s father and brother were in the front. When they arrived at the school Deena’s father walked away quickly to find their seats, but Josh waited a moment longer beside the two girls.

“Hey, so, uh, congratulations, I guess,” he told them.

“Thanks, Josh,” Sam smiled brightly at him, delighted to receive one of his shy smiles in return.

Deena lightly hit his shoulder. “Just make sure to hurry up and get out of here soon too.”

Although her younger brother chuckled at her joke, Josh suddenly looked a little nervous too. “So, you guys… I mean, you don’t plan to, um, leave right away, do you?”

It was safe to say both girls were taken aback by his question. Deena exchanged a discreet look with her girlfriend and slowly replied. “No… We don’t have any concrete plans yet, I guess.” She paused, and studied the way Josh nodded, satisfied but still visibly uncomfortable. After being reassured by Sam’s hand in hers, Deena smiled and opted for lightening the mood. “What?” she asked him, “Are you saying you’ll miss me?”

“What? No!” Josh scoffed. The outraged look on his face nearly made Sam laugh affectionately at how similar the Johnson siblings could be. “Maybe I’d miss Sam a little, at least she can cook.”

“Hey! Shut up!” Deena shoved him with just a little more force this time. The three of them were laughing though. Sam actually threw her head back laughing.

“I’m just saying,” Josh raised his hands in defense, “There might be more evil stuff to fight in Shadyside, so…”

“Oh, that’d be so cool,” Sam said. Her blue eyes somehow managed to perfectly combine terror and curiosity.

“Hey, no, stop it, both of you,” Deena frowned, holding back her smile. “No more supernatural shit for any of us, okay? Josh go get your seat, we’ll be there in a minute.” She affectionately pushed her younger brother away, her heart warmed by the things he didn’t say out loud but she managed to hear loud and clear from his heart.

Afterward, Deena and Sam hesitated for one more moment outside the car.

“Are you ready?” Deena asked her girlfriend.

Sam replied with a perfect smile. For a second, she looked down, then she took Deena’s hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. “I’m ready,” she said at last.

Deena felt almost bashful as the two of them entered the school grounds hand in hand. There were frowns here and there, whispers in almost every corner, some surprised faces, and even the occasional smile. She’d dreamt of this moment pretty much since she first met Sam. Still, she reassured the blonde girl about a hundred times that they didn’t have to be public about their relationship at all. The only thing that mattered is that the two of them were together again. Seeing Sam fight against her possession using just the strength of her love for her, well, that helped Deena pretty much get over all her insecurities over their relationship. Still, Sam had made the choice to move in with her father, return to Shadyside, graduate in the old high school, return to the place she belonged to, and to the people she belonged with. However, seeing Sam walk the busy hallways with her head held high and her proud smile unwavering, Deena realized that this wasn’t just about her, or them as a couple, it was also about Sam. Sam coming to terms with every part of herself, being proud of herself and her heart, because it was her love one of the reasons that saved her life, Deena’s life, and maybe the entire town. 

Their cinematic moment of pride and bliss was abruptly interrupted by a head of messy blonde hair appearing between them and a pair of arms falling around them.

“My girls!” Simon exclaimed, hugging them tightly. “You’re late, ladies! I missed you!”

Deena shrugged his arm off her, but Simon only took that as an opportunity to wrap his arms around Sam’s waist and lift her up in a strong hug as he grunted happily.

“Hi!” Sam laughed openly and ruffled his already wild hair as he gently sent her back down on the floor. Neither of them could’ve looked happier if they tried.

“Now, Deena…” Simon smirked and extended his arms while his friend took a careful step back.

“Simon, don’t you fucking dare,” Deena warned him, “I’ll kick in the balls, I swear…”

While the two friends handled that sweet combination of an embrace and a fight, Kate showed up beside Sam.

“Looks like Shadyside’s hottest couple finally decided to join us,” she smirked, sharing a hug with Sam. “I’m not even going to ask why you guys are late. Because at least Sam looks gorgeous, and Deena… you’re here.” She playfully raised her eyebrows.

“Nice,” Deena rolled her eyes. She was fixing her clothes and in between lightly pushing Simon away from her, as he continued to laugh.

“You guys almost missed my valedictorian speech!” Kate complained. 

“Yeah, and it’s going to be awesome,” Simon jumped in, “I’ll put on my witch costume one last time and perform a musical number in the middle of it.”

His words were cut short when Kate tugged on the neck of his shirt to pull him down so she could look him in the eyes and say, “I would literally kill you on stage.” But it was undeniable that both of them were smiling the entire time. The four of them started walking together, with a brief pause for Kate to check on Sam’s makeup and the girls to convince Simon to tie his shoes for once.

Then there was the final ceremony. Kate’s speech was a success, Simon wasn’t completely joking about making one last appearance as the school’s mascot, and Sam was sitting right beside Deena the entire time. Deena, halfway through, realized she couldn’t stop smiling. It felt strange, and upon realizing it, she tried to fight against it, on instinct. But quickly realized there was no reason to fight it. Wherever she looked there was a good reason to smile. Her girlfriend was sitting beside her, sending lovely looks her way every couple of minutes. Her best friends were close by, alive and on their well-earned roads to a better life. Somewhere behind them was Josh, just like his sister, trying and failing to suppress a smile at the joyful occasion. Her father appeared to be sober for a day at least, and Sam’s father was there, awkwardly supportive if only to be better than his ex-wife, it all counted. Deena had affectionately rolled her eyes when Josh informed her that even Martin and Ziggy had made it to the ceremony as spectators, not wanting to miss a chance to celebrate a win for Shadyside, and their young friends. Even the rest of her school, her peers, people that were merely acquaintances, Deena found herself happy for them too. The curse was over. These people were safe from possessed killers. They were free to improve their lives and their town and be free. So, Deena didn’t care if some people were surprised to see that peaceful smile glued on her face the entire day. She had countless reasons to be happy, and she planned to cherish every single one of them. 

When it was all over, the crowd exploded in cheers. It was official. They were Shadyside graduates. They were free. They could go anywhere, be anyone, do anything they wanted to. Some people would run away from the town as soon as possible, and some of them would stay and put in the work to change the town. Some others were content to take their time to figure out what would come next. Taking life slowly and living their days one at a time was something especially valuable to kids that only narrowly avoided death just a few months ago. 

While their peers cheered and celebrated around them, Deena and Sam threw their arms around each other and held on tightly. Even under the thunderous noise of the crowd, Deena distinctly heard Sam’s sweet voice whisper against her ear, “Can I kiss you?”

Deena tightened her arms around her girlfriend for a moment before happily chuckling out, “Of course!”

A moment later, Sam’s lips were on her. 

It was perfect. It was joyful. It was everything they had been waiting for. They were right there in the middle of the crowd, and neither of them could’ve cared less. The rest of the world didn’t matter, it didn’t even exist. Deena felt invincible, but she also felt unburdened from the weight she’d grown accustomed to always carrying on her shoulders. She felt love. Sam sighed into the kiss, tasting freedom, love, and the relief of letting go of a lifetime of holding back, now it was time for her to get to enjoy her life, and she knew she had earned it. 

They were only forced to pull away when they heard an amused, “Get a room!” Kate was standing beside them, profusely rolling her eyes.

“Ready for tonight?” Simon proceeded to slap Deena’s back and earn a roll of her eyes.

“Full moon, witchy, drugs of the land, bonfire party, you know?” Kate added with a wicked smile.

Deena thought that she was almost getting tired of fondly rolling her eyes at her friends, but she didn’t mind it that much. “We’ll be there,” she said, taking Sam’s hand.

--

There were several graduation parties going around in Shadyside and Sunnyvale. A bonfire in the middle of the woods, close to a rock engraved with the words “Sarah Fier the first Shadysider,” wasn’t exactly the most popular spot, but that made it even better. In a town of outsiders, these were the worst, meaning the best, of them. The greatest thing about Shadyside was that even the strangest of their kids came from unexpected corners and fit in together surprisingly well. The perfect example was the group formed by the valedictorian and cheerleader captain, the school’s mascot and Grab n’ Bag employee of the month, Shadyside’s moodiest teenager and possible Sarah Fier’s reincarnation, and the previously possessed and recovering Sunnyvaler. In some ways, they couldn’t be more different from each other. But, if they had been best friends before, now they were something even stronger. It was the reward for fighting a three hundred years old curse together and making it out alive. They were free to dance, laugh, sing, and be as happy as possible, surrounded by friends all around a bonfire.

Deena took her time, as she promised herself, to appreciate the glory of celebrating among friends. However, after an entire day of Sam passionately proving time and time again that she was beyond ready to openly embrace who they really were, Deena was craving a moment of privacy with her girlfriend. There was no doubt that half of Shadyside at least was now aware of their relationship. It was a small town after all. Deena would be lying if she said she was a hundred percent comfortable with it, something she once confessed to Sam. But after practically facing the devil and coming out winners, there was little they were afraid of, especially as long as they were together.

So, when enough dancing and laughing with their friends was done, Deena took Sam’s hand in hers and led her away from the group as discreetly as possible. The music followed them, as well as the light from the bonfire that, in addition to the full moon shining above them, lit a path for them. It was almost a dance, moving around the woods together. Holding on to each other’s hands until it was only their fingertips brushing, rounding a tree, and coming back together in an embrace. They were all giddy laughs, secret touches, and wide smiles.

Eventually, Deena rested her back against a familiar rock. She was out of breath, and her smile was taking over her face. Sam had been following her closely behind. When she was just one step away from Deena, she stumbled a little, and Deena had to reach out to hold her so she wouldn’t fall facedown on the red moss covering the ground under their feet.

“Are you okay?” Deena asked, equal parts concerned and amused.

“Yeah, sorry,” Sam replied. She blew a strand of hair off her face and straightened her posture. When she looked at Deena though, she burst out laughing, and hid her face in the crook of Deena’s neck. 

Deena was happy to hold her girlfriend, but she tried to pull away enough to look at Sam’s face. “Sam…” she said, “Sam, did you take any of the shit Kate sells?”

“What?!” Sam exclaimed, just loud and high-pitched enough to expose herself. “No!” she insisted. She pulled back from Deena and attempted a serious expression while pushing her hair behind her ear. A second later she was back into a fit of giggles.

“Oh my God,” Deena looked away, biting her lip to keep herself from smiling too big. She was feeling a little dazed too.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Sam shook her head and took a deep breath. When she received an incredulous look from her girlfriend, she insisted, “Really!” She lightly pushed Deena’s shoulder. But all she earned was Deena’s hand on her waist pulling her closer. Not that she was complaining. 

Sam placed her hands on Deena’s cheeks, and pulled her in for a kiss. She got easily distracted, and moved to place kisses along Deena’s jaw and down her neck. Deena’s curls tickled her face and the feeling once again made her laugh softly.

“Well, I’m glad you’re having fun there,” Deena teased her.

Sam was nearly resting all her weight against Deena. But she was trying to compose herself enough for a conversation. She pulled back and this time looked just a little more serious as she asked, “Are you happy?”

The question took Deena by surprise. The earnest quality of Sam’s blue eyes let her know it was a real question, and her girlfriend expected an answer. “I am, yes,” Deena nodded, “Happier than I thought possible, really.”

“Hm, good,” Sam mumbled, leaning in closer to brush her nose against Deena. “Me too.” Then they simply rested their forehead together, basking in the blissful moment together. After a short while, Sam spoke up again. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Deena opened her eyes, confused.

Sam leaned back to stare at her. She licked her lips nervously and explained. “I’ve just been thinking… I realized I never apologized,” she said, “You know, for everything.” It was slightly unclear what everything meant anymore. Deena had a feeling that stabbing her while possessed and their breakup were the two prominent things on Sam’s mind.

“Hey, you have nothing to apologize for,” Deena replied softly. She moved a hand to Sam’s face, and caressed her cheek with the pad of her thumb. She waited until Sam smiled at her again to add, “And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. For the other half of ‘everything’, you know?” Having to kill Sam even if it was to save her life and still, their breakup, were the main things on Deena’s mind. 

As if they could read each other’s thoughts, they understood at once. Just as they forgave each other instantly. They didn’t necessarily forget, because if this experience taught them anything, it was the value and wisdom and peace that’s found in the past. But there was nothing they could use against each other. The only thing left after their extraordinary experience was gratitude and a love big enough to fill centuries.

“I love you,” Sam said, staring deeply into perfect brown eyes.

“I love you too,” Deena replied with that easy smile of hers, waiting for the moment Sam would pull her face in for a kiss.

Afterward, all they had to worry about was coming up for air in between their kisses. Their hands were leisurely exploring each other’s bodies, and their kisses were reverent and unhurried, as they focused on nothing but enjoying each other’s company and love.

At one point, they thought they heard a rustle of leaves from somewhere behind them. Sam pulled back from the kiss with a small frown on her face, “Did you hear-”

“No, I didn’t,” Deena quickly replied with a chuckle. Then she dove back into a kiss, stealing Sam’s sweet laugh right off her lips. There was no reason to worry. It could be the actual Devil, it could be Sarah Fier and Hannah Miller themselves, it could be just the summer breeze. Nothing would break them apart ever again.

[wave0fg00dvibes]

You’re my Home - Spencer Reid x Reader

Murders, betrayal, violence, and corpses. Or, in other words, a typical day at work for Dr. Spencer Reid.

He felt the overwhelming exhaustion of the day start to catch up to him as he climbed the concrete steps to the house. His messenger bag somehow seemed heavier than usual as his limbs began to give in to the stress the day had brought. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, making sure to lock it behind him and reset the alarm system.

The little house was silent. Not eerily so, but peacefully. Spencer closed his eyes, took a deep comforting breath, and smiled. He was home.

Home was the place where he didn’t have to worry about bodies dropping left and right. There was no one to pressure him to work harder or move faster. No profiling, combat, negotiation, or death. His only worries in this house involved toddler meltdowns and diaper changes, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Spencer walked past the living room to the hallway, noticing the many toys and books scattered about. Dirty dishes sat in the sink, and daily crafts were scattered across the kitchen table, long forgotten. He smiled to himself. He could only imagine what destruction your smart, chaotic, beautiful children had caused today.

He slowly made his way down the hall, arriving at the first door and quietly pushing it open. The princess night light cast a pink glow around the room, illuminating the face of his daughter, sleeping soundly.

She was turning 5 soon. Where had the time gone?

He seemingly blinked and Ava had transformed from a fussy baby into a tiny, wildly intelligent human that understood his racing thoughts. Though so very little, she was already discovering the wonders of books and knowledge, and striving to learn all she could get her hands on. He knew from the moment she was born they had a special bond. She is one of the only people who truly understands his mind, because she shares it.

He slowly crept into her room, sitting on her bed gently, as not to wake her. He attempted to subtly kiss her forehead, but she stirred and sleepily opened her eyes, taking a moment to process what was happening.

“Daddy?” She whispered. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Hi baby. I’m here.”

The excitement in her face was quickly replaced by her small body’s urge to fall asleep again.

“I missed you today.” She drowsily muttered.

“I missed you too.” He whispered back.

“Mommy read me Chaucer, but it wasn’t the same without you. It’s okay though. We can read some different subjects together! I want to learn more math, but she doesn’t like reading those to me as much as you do.”

Spencer felt his eyes slightly water. One of his greatest fears was missing these little moments with his children. He wanted nothing more than to read books and learn with Ava all day.

He also knew that you were an incredible mother who would read the entire phone book to Ava if she asked. You weren’t offended at all by Ava’s requests to read with her Dad. You knew their bond was special, and couldn’t be matched.

“I would love to learn some math with you. We can do that tomorrow though, okay?”

She nodded, smiling brightly as her eyes drifted closed again. His heart could hardly take the amount of love he harbored for that smile.

“Goodnight, Ava.” Spencer whispered, attempting to get up. She grabbed his hand before he could stand.

“Daddy, will you please stay just a little bit longer?”

She had him wrapped around her tiny finger.

“Of course I will.”

He held her hand and smoothed her hair back as she slowly but surely fell back into a deep sleep. Spencer pressed a kiss to her forehead, slowly put her hand back, and tip toed out of her room, quietly closing the door behind him.

Next, he made his way to the nursery.

He crept down the hall and into the baby’s room with ease. Ever so quietly, he leaned over the crib to observe the little boy, sound asleep.

Grayson had just turned 6 months old. It seemed like every time he got home from work his son had grown another inch.

Spencer didn’t want to wake him. Lord knows you had enough on your plate with the little sleep you got. He didn’t want to add to that stress. So, he simply watched Grayson’s tiny, adorable body squirm in his sleep.

It seemed like just yesterday he heard Ava’s first cry. How could time be flying by this quickly?

“Goodnight, Grayson.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead.

As he turned to leave the nursery, an intense feeling of guilt overwhelmed him. Lately, he was so caught up at the bureau that he barely saw his children in the daylight. He wasn’t able to read with Ava, hold Grayson, or spend any time with you, his wife, his life partner.

Spencer would rather die than abandon his family the way his father abandoned him. He couldn’t bear the thought of his babies not knowing him, not trusting him, never knowing how much he would give up for them. He felt his mind begin to spiral. So, as with many other intrusive thoughts, he pushed it away. He could deal with those feelings another time. Right now, he needed to sleep.

He stepped quietly into your bedroom, noticing that you left his lamp on for him. He smiled softly, heavy heart lifting a bit at the thought of you waiting up for him. He quickly put on his night clothes and padded to the bed.

Your shoulders rose and fell with every relaxed breath. Though you were facing away from him, he could tell you were wearing his favorite t-shirt. He smiled again and gently pulled back the covers.

You were pulled from your sleep as you felt your husband slide into the bed beside you. You sleepily, yet excitedly turned your body to face him, smiling and reaching your arms out to hold him.

Spencer surprised you. He gently cupped your face in his hands and kissed you deeply, longingly, passionately.

It must’ve been a really tough day at the BAU.

When he pulled back, his hands didn’t leave your face and you pressed your forehead to his.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You gently asked.

“No.” He stated. Kind, but firm.

You nodded. He would tell you later, when he was ready. He always did.

“Did you say goodnight to the babies?”

“Of course. Always.” You could hear the drowsiness in his voice as you felt the tension in his muscles begin to relax, but there was still something bothering him.

“Hey, what’s up?” You gently prodded, running a hand through his hair. He let out a deep sigh.

“It’s really nothing. I promise.”

You looked him straight in the eye. Your glance saying more to him than your words ever could.

Don’t shut me out, Spencer. I’m here.

He averted his gaze, but you brought your hand to his face, turning it to meet your eyes again. He could see the concern blooming, and was reminded how little he could hide from you. His partner. His person.

He couldn’t help the flurry of loving thoughts running through his mind as his eyes responded.

You are so beautiful.

You smiled. You knew he meant it, but there was something more. However, the bags under his eyes suggested it could be a conversation for another time.

You leaned in and pressed a light, lingering kiss to his lips.

He smiled back at you, thankful for your understanding. He turned his bedside lamp off and promptly pulled you as close to him as possible, limbs intertwining, hearts finally whole again.

You laid like that for a solid couple of minutes before his racing mind couldn’t take it anymore.

“Do you think they will resent me for not being around?”

You slowly opened your eyes and pulled back to look him in the eye, not having the faintest idea where he was going with this.

“What?”

Spencer sat up in bed and turned the light on again. He took a deep breath, and all at once you knew what was coming.

“Did you know that children who grow up without a father figure in the house are two times more likely to drop out of high school?”

“Spencer…” You attempted to reach for him, but he was too focused now.

“Or… or what about the fact that they are more likely to have behavioral problems? Or that they are 279% more likely to carry guns and deal drugs than their peers? That’s a HUGE margin!”

“But Spence…” You sat up to face him, knowing this needed to run its course before you could help him. You softly rubbed his back as he continued.

“Children who have father involvement are far less likely to cause trouble. They get better grades in school, have better social skills, have a far greater emotional wellbeing, are less likely to succumb to obesity… the list is endless! And… and boys with absent fathers are more likely to become absent fathers themselves. What if Ava isn’t succeeding as much as she could because I’m not around? And what if I’m scarring Grayson’s idea of a father? And now the pressure of raising our children is all on you and I’m so afraid you’re going to start resenting me and I just…”

“Spencer. Hey.” You turned his head to face you, finally seeing the tears threatening to spill over.

Your heart fractured. How could he not know how much his family loved him? How could he doubt the utter adoration the three of you shared for him?

Your eyes welled up as you realized that this is what his job does to him. He sees violence, destruction, and betrayal every single day. He sees families turn on each other and split apart because of tragedies. He works relentlessly because if he doesn’t, people die.

Of course he questions every aspect of his life.

Words could never convey the magnitude of the love you shared. They couldn’t pull him out of this hole in his mind he had been painstakingly digging. So, you listened to your heart when it told you to kiss him so hard that he forgets why he was ever worried.

You grabbed his face and pressed your lips to his, slowly, but firmly. He responded immediately, but with reservation. A few tears tracked down his face as his arms tensed, holding onto you ever so tightly. You kissed him harder, hands trailing from his neck to the back of his head to get lost in his hair. He followed your lead, reserves fading, walls coming down. Slowly, his hands snaked under your shirt to trace shapes on your back. You smiled into the kiss and felt him do the same.

Before you knew it, his hands were begging you to come closer to him. You swung a leg over his so you were straddling him, holding his face again as his arms enveloped you with full force. He kissed you with the fiery passion you knew he held. He held you as if the universe were going to take you away any second. He showed you just how much he loved you with every frenzied movement, every soft touch, and every crash of your lips.

Impossibly close could never be close enough. Not for two souls intertwined, like yours.

You pulled away and pressed your forehead to his, breathing heavily. His breath matched yours as you both sat there, holding each other, waiting for the world around you to reappear.

When it finally did, you met his eyes again. Hoping to see the unique spark that only your husband possessed.

“I love you, Spencer Reid.”

“I love you too.” He smiled lovingly up at you, and there it was. His spark. Your heart leapt for joy.

“Forever and ever, ‘til death do us part. Right?”

He nodded, breaking your gaze to wipe away stray tears with the back of his hand. You wiped away the rest with your thumbs, softly stroking his face.

“You are a fantastic husband and father. You hear me?” You meant it with your whole heart, but his eyes questioned you.

Yeah?

Yeah. I promise.

He smiled and let out a sigh of complete relief, pulling your body even closer and nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You held him, so unbelievably content to give your husband the security he craved. You pressed kisses into his hair as you rubbed his back, feeling him start to relax. He pulled away to look at you, with all the love in the world in his eyes. You smiled back, feeling your heart flip the same way it did the first time you met.

You reached over to turn the lamp off once more, and then settled comfortably into Spencer’s arms. His whole body relaxed as soon as you laid your hand on his chest.

There was so much more to say. So many things he needed to know, to absorb, to be sure of. So much love he needed to take with him to the job that tore him apart. But he was exhausted, and that could all wait until the morning. You snuggled into his chest and felt his arms grow tighter around you.

Just before you were about to fall asleep, you remembered something you knew would ease his troubled mind.

“You know what Ava told me today?”

“Hmm?” He answered, clearly also close to sleep.

“She said she wanted to wait to put the quadratic formula into practice until you got home.”

He let out a joyful laugh, and you joined, holding him tighter.

“Really? She did?”

“Yeah, she did. She loves you. More than anything.”

Nothing could match his smile at that moment. He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips before letting his head fall back to the pillow.

“I love you.” You heard him whisper.

“We love you too, Spencer. So much.”

You snuggled impossibly closer, and with that you both slipped into a deep, relaxing sleep.

----

A/N: Here we go again, friends. How have I not seen Criminal Mind’s until this quarantine?!? My disguised blessing of Coronavirus. Anyway, thank you for reading, as always. Feel free to comment/critique/roast here or on my AO3 – wave0fg00dvibes. I love feedback! I have some more Reid stuff in the works… let me know if there’s anything specific y’all want to read! Love always. <3

[cloud9in]

The Half of It

A Mc x Poppy fic inspired by the film 

Summary: Bea, the town’s outcast is recruited by the school jock to win Poppy’s heart. But what happens when she starts falling for her as well?

Author’s Note: So this will be a multiple part series that includes scenes heavily inspired from the movie “The Half of It”. I certainly recommend watching it. My version will have different twists and a different ending, and definitely more angst. It will include mature themes as the story progresses.

Warnings for this chapter: Swearing. This is a good thing for now.

Chapter 1- 

“Love is simply the name for desire and pursuit of the whole.”

                                                   - Plato, The Symposium

It is said that when one half finds its other, there’s an unspoken understanding. A unity. And each would know no greater joy....than this. 

 ...Except this is highschool. And in my opinion, there is no other half. Maybe the other half is a paper on Greek God philosophy due at midnight. But make that four papers, including mine. 

 My name is Bea Hughes and let’s just say...this is not a very happy story. Well maybe some parts are, but you’ll have to read to find out. I come from a small town called Farmsville, and when I mean small, I mean really small. Except the highschool seems fucking huge, with never ending hallways and when you do somehow find the end, there’s usually two inbreds eating each others mouths off. Lucky for me I am the epitome of antisocial, reserved, an introvert, or whatever the inferior beings, aka every other senior, calls me when they think I can’t hear. But I hear everything, including that one time Bradley Denbrough, upcoming hotshot actor, or so he claims, found out about a crush a poor unsuspecting freshman had on him. Everybody knew what Bradley and his goons did to that boy, even the adults, but no charges were pressed. This town is as conservative as it gets, but no one knows of my secret. I carry this school on my back when it comes to having everyone graduate, but that’s all I am to them, a pawn. And that’s all I wanted to be, nothing more and nothing less. I preferred to be in the shadows. 

 ***

 ...Except the mandatory Senior Talent Show forced Bea out of her hibernation hole. The thought haunted her as she sat in the dance studio, the last fucking place she wanted to be. Dance was so not a Bea kinda thing, but the blonde knew exactly why she granted herself the misery of picking the class. Poppy Min Sinclair, the golden girl of Farmsville High, the preacher’s daughter on a more serious note. She is...the most fascinating girl Bea ever laid her eyes on even if her boyfriend was a complete asshole who sermonized his duties as her future husband. Like seriously? Poppy has got to have some screws loose to date such a fake loser who plagiarizes all of his speeches at sunday church, and once literally begged Bea to write an apology letter to his father for him after completely upending their summer cabin. Except the blonde wrote the opposite of an apology, it went something like this…

 Dear beloved donkey, I mean dad,

 I am terribly sorry for inviting 20 hookers to the summer cabin. I have these strange impulses and you should at least be grateful I didn’t invite the big boss as well. His wife came though, in many, many ways. You should get the carpet changed. 

 Sincerely, your STD free son

 It was safe to say that Mr. Denbrough had a near heart attack after reading it, and Bea did kinda feel bad, kinda. He never mentioned the letter to Bradley though, instead silently calling up the owner of Teopoli Catholic Summer Camp and essentially deporting the boy to Canada for the summer. No son of his would end up in hell was what the old man preached everyday from then on. It was the quietest summer Bea had ever experienced. 

 Being the towns outcast, Bea could have her fun when she so chooses to, but that didn’t pay the bills. In fact, the multiple essays that people paid her to write was her way of surviving and taking care of her mother. They weren’t very rich but Bea worked with what she had, helping her mother manage the farm, which included getting on her knees and wrestling the pigs. And that’s how she was gifted the name “pig girl”, stupid Bradley and his fake friends just had to wander too far and catch Bea in the act. She swore a remixed video of her hog calling surfaced the web at one point and that gave the blonde her five minutes of fame. Boy was it an awful time in her life. 

 Bea worked her mother’s previous job as station master or signalman for the trains that passed through, even if it barely paid her shit. The secluded feeling of sitting in that booth and having a moment with her thoughts was enough to give her purpose. Bea was fond of poetry and it usually helped her come up with song lyrics.

 Song lyrics…

 That she would have to sing at the talent show. A huge sigh escaped her lips as she slumped further into the ground, maybe hoping she could bury herself six feet under. It wasn’t that Bea hated singing, no she absolutely loved it. Playing her guitar at night and belting out lyrics that only resulted in her mother banging on the ceiling below in efforts to shut the blonde up. But the mere fact that she’d have to sing in front of the ruthless seniors rubbed her the wrong way. Something would go wrong, it always did. Bea was shaken out of her thoughts when Poppy crossed the center of the room, moving her hips slowly to the sound of Rihanna’s voice. The class chose a slow r&b song to choreograph today and of course all eyes were on Poppy.

 If i’m your girl say my name boy

let me know i'm in control

 Her silky blonde locks swayed as she danced to the beat, hands thrusting sensually along her sides. Bea stared in awe, almost like Poppy was the only one in the room and a spotlight illuminated every movement, every curve. Except she definitely wasn’t the only one picturing Poppy in that way. Carter, the school quarterback leaned against the railing, arms crossed and eyes trailing the rise and fall of her chest. 

 Got me wondering, I’m wondering if i'm on your mind

 Bea sat up straighter but nearly lost her bodily functions when Poppy locked eyes with her before spinning away. It was simple eye contact Bea, don’t let it get to your head. You already have multiple lyrics inspired by Poppy offering the bare minimum in human interaction. She doesn’t actually like you. Poppy is popular and has the perfect life...and boyfriend, even if Bea heavily disagrees. Poppy was a bitch of course, but not a bitch bitch. Unlike the other wannabe mean girls, the blonde didn’t give Bea hell, well that was because the girl paid her zero attention. She seemed distant, off in her own world, or well in her parents world learning the strategies of business. Poppy was expected to follow in her parents footsteps and keep up with her reputation of being the richest in town, and of course a faithful future wife. So fun. But the blonde had other prosperous dreams of travelling and following her passion of music and dance. Highschool was her only outlet and she took advantage of it any chance she’d get. Bea knew this because she would ride her bike every friday night to the school and watch Poppy dance from outside the glass window. Maybe Bea realized it was kinda creepy, but she’s dumb enough to not realize her obvious growing attraction. I mean who pedals miles just to watch someone trip on their feet? 

 ***

 The sound of the bell caught everyone's attention and the teacher slowly lowered the music. Bea watched as Bradley approached Poppy and smothered her with kisses and praises. She rolled her eyes painfully, this kind of PDA definitely wasn’t it, she could have gone her whole life without seeing that. She walked silently through the crowd of kids in the hall, everyone was laughing and talking to their friends. All Bea could allow her mind to focus on was the very intimidating billboard of names a few feet across from her. 

 Winter Talent Show Sign-Ups (Mandatory For Seniors)

 Bea glared at it quietly before signing her name on the sheet, sealing her inevitable fate. Through the hustle of students, Carter watched the blonde with a yearning look from afar. This should be great…

 The next few classes were a blur and Bea eventually found herself getting up to hand Ms. Kingsley her paper. The older woman looked at her with a knowing glance as she took a generous sip of her coffee, which was 75% tequila.

 “6 different interpretations on Plato? Colour me impressed Miss Hughes.” 

 Bea shrugs nonchalant, “yeah well would you rather read their actual essays?”

 “Oh hell no.” Kingsley feigns shock as she looks at the stack of papers with a comical expression. She takes another sip, watching her younger, prodigy of a student carefully. “You know there are places outside of this godforsaken town where you can put your talents to use... Real use. I teach at Belvoire University occasionally.” Ina winks and slides Bea an application, studying her initial reaction. “It’s...in New York.”

“Damn right! The Big Apple.”

 “Kingsley you know I have to stay here. It’ll be easier for me to manage the farm and be close to home”, Bea says confidently even though her body language displays otherwise. She predicted the big sigh filling her ears before it actually happened and it still managed to faze her. “Who ever said you had to do anything? What about what you want to do?” Bea doesn’t make eye contact with Ina, that woman could convince you to do just about anything with a certain look. “No we are not doing this. You can take your reverse psychology and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. I’m outta here.” The blonde stomps out of the classroom, the sound of Ina’s chuckles still ringing in her ears.

 “Hey! Everyone in this town fears God, but you know what God fears? My ability to hide a bottle of Don Julio in my left boot.” Ina pulls out the newly bought bottle and cradles it. “Come to mama.”

 ***

 Bea rode her bike alongside the dirt road, Kingsley’s words on replay the entire ride. Maybe she did deserve to experience something more than what this town had to offer. But would her mother manage without her? Sacrifices, sacrifices. Bea was used to making those for her mother after her father’s death. What would her dad think of all of this?

 “Hey!”

 He’d surely smack Bea upside the head for the little antics she pulled occasionally. And then he’d buy her vanilla coconut ice cream and ask for every single detail of what happened as they sat and laughed together. That’s the kind of relationship Bea would have had with her father, she liked to assume so. She also liked to assume that she’d get home safely everyday without a scratch, but then there’s Carter.

 “Hey wait up!” 

 The jock seemed to be running ridiculously fast and crashed right into the rear end of Bea’s bicycle, sending her face first into a mount of dirt. The initial impact was enough to boost the blonde straight back up like nothing happened and into a fighting stance, fists out and eyes wild. Very scary Bea. When she realized it was him...well it only pissed her off even more. “What the fuck Carter! You asshole!”

 “I’m sorry Bea! Here let me help-”

 “No! Move away! You- my bike- I…” Bea groans frustratingly, stepping away from the wreck as she tries to catch her breath. Carter watches her sheepishly, rubbing an envelope between his fingers awkwardly. After a few minutes of painfully uneasy silence he speaks up, “Okay...I didn’t want to ask you this way but I was wonder-”

“Oh, so you practically break my ass and now you want me to do you a favour? Real nice way of communication you have there Mr. Quarterback. What is with you and those freakishly large muscles anyways? Maybe it’s my fault I didn’t hear your avalanche built ass coming from behind.”

 “Hey! They are not freakishly large!”

 “I hate to break it to you Jackson but mine are significantly more appealing to look at.” Bea smirks widely, flexing her arm as best as she could. It’s a work in progress… just bare with her.

 It didn’t take much effort for Carter to break out into a smile and look at her fondly. Maybe there was more to this girl than just being a human dictionary. Well that’s what people called her, and he maybe believed it at first.

 Bea noticed the lack of response and shifted awkwardly, clearing her throat. “Listen, its $10 for three pages, $20 for three to ten, I'm not in the over-ten-page biz.”

 “No..no I’m not here to cheat!” Carter blurts out. “But I’ll let you know if I do plan on- anyways. I uh..” He hesitates before handing her the envelope. “What’s this?

 “Well you see it’s a letter..”

 “Yeah but who writes letters these days?”

 “I thought it seemed romantic..”

 “And I thought women writing Jeffrey Dahmer letters in jail seemed romantic”, Bea says sarcastically, her smile dropping instantly after catching a glimpse of Poppy’s name at the top of the paper. It was like the blood stopped flowing through her body for a few seconds as her mouth went dry. This had to be the work of the so-called God everyone praised in this town, or it was one cruel coincidence. Bea wasn’t sure why seeing her name made her heart beat ten times harder, but it also wasn’t a necessarily uncomfortable feeling…

 “I- I can’t help you.”

 “But if you just add a few more words-”

 “I’m not writing a letter to Poppy Min Sincla- to..to some girl for you. Letters are supposed to be authentic, from the heart, your own words, your...feelings.” Bea hurriedly turns to grab her bike, suddenly losing all interest in being social. 

 Carter was afraid this would happen. But he was stubborn. “But I can pay more for authentic!” 

 Too bad Bea was stubborn as well. “Just get a thesaurus...Good luck, Romeo.”

***

 Bea sat in her room, strumming away softly at the strings of her guitar. Some of the keys were off but the old thing still worked, and that was good enough for her. She could hear the tv blasting downstairs, her mother most likely watching the news. There’s something about old people and news, were they secretly ogling the news anchors? Just like Bea ogled Poppy any chance she could. The blonde frowned to herself, her eyebrows crunching together in question. What so hard about writing a letter to Poppy? It’s not like it's coming from her. Well it technically is, but Carter is taking the credit and Bea never had a problem with people taking credit for her words. So why did this very thought prove to be such an inconvenience? Lucky for Bea, her mind drifted elsewhere when she heard a painful snap. Even if it wasn’t physically connected to her body, she felt a horrible ache. Slowly peering down at the guitar in her hand, Bea found that the neck of the guitar had miraculously split almost clean off, a splinter of wood just holding it intact. She wanted to scream but nothing really came out, except air of course. Much to her disapproval, this was definitely a result of her strength. Stupid muscles couldn’t contain themselves at the thought of Carter being with Poppy. Now how could that be? 

 But now she had no guitar. And no guitar means no strings to strum, and no lyrics to sing, and no talent to show at the talent show. Now she was in trouble. Probably because she knew that the only way to get the money to replace the guitar would be through sealing the deal with Carter. Oh fuck it!

 ***

 “One letter. And enough money to buy a new guitar.”

 “Deal!”

 Bea turns away with a sigh, completely ignoring Carter’s high five. Now all she had to do was write this letter, and pray that Poppy wouldn’t completely consume every fiber of her being in the process.

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

End note: So how we feelin’? Carter and Bea Brotp??

Tags: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @zigxryanz @uselesslesbianfr @aleiramacaii @thedaft1 @alexlabhont @iamsimpforpoppy

[dapandapod]

A fathers tears

Here is my second piece for the Bog Fluff Battle!  (Go give all entries a read! It’s lovely and oh so fluffy!)      This story Here on Ao3.

This story is about Geralt crying as little Ciri grows up. It is a alternate universe where Geralt is still a witcher and Jaskier a half elf, implied homophobia and evil headmasters are mentioned. I just wanted Geralt to be a soft and emotional father.

Prompt: I just want you to be happy.

Oh, and everyone is gay, as a treat, because fuck you evil laywer Calanthe. Please enjoy <3

It has been a long process.

So much paperwork, so many sleepless nights, so many phonecalls with the agency.

But finally, finally, they're about to sign the paper.

Geralt's heart feels like it’s three times too big, beating with fear and excitement.

He walks up the stairs, opens the door to the adoption agency. Finally, finally he and his partner are allowed to adopt.

Finally, finally, Geralt will be allowed to hold baby Cirilla in his arms.

They had to fight every bit of the way, him and Jaskier, against the lawyer Calanthe.

She's is still against same sex marrige, still against their adoption, still against interracial couples. She hates elves with a passion, and Jaskier being a half elf didn’t help in the least.

But they won. They finally, finally won.

Jaskier holds his hand while they sign, the pen shaking in his grip. Jaskier holds him close when they sit in the waiting room, his support and love the only thing keeping Geralt in place.

When the social worker comes in, Geralt can’t move.

Ciri is so tiny, just a little bundle of blankets in the carrier, fast asleep.

Jaskier is the one who finally stands, who finally takes their daughter's carrier. They loathe to wake her up, so silently, ever so silently, they carry her out.

Carry her home.

Only when they are safe within their home, only when they are standing by the crib they placed by the wall, Geralt feels brave enough.

Jaskier has been cradling her, rocking her and petting her soft, light hair.

Now Geralt reaches for her, holds a hand under her small head and pulls her to his chest.

She makes a small noise, a small snuffling sound, but calms. Her small baby hand comes up to her lips, sucking on her fingers as she burrows closer in Geralt's shirt.

Jaskier walks behind Geralt, wraps his arms around his waist, and rests his head on his shoulder.

“She is our daughter now.” He whispers, and finally something breaks in Geralt.

He draws in a shuddering breath, hot tears rolling down his cheeks like they haven’t for years. Jaskier kisses his neck, all three of them rocking gently back and forth to soothe each other.

They go about their new daily routine.

Bottle feeding, naps, changing diapers, kissing away tears. Jaskier is taking a bath before bedtime, after his very first dose of baby puke, and Geralt lies alone in bed with Ciri.

His daughter.

Geralt is laying on his side, just watching her. She is fighting sleep, scrunching up her tiny nose, opening and closing her tiny fists.

“Daughter,” Geralt says out loud, not for the first time. “You are my daughter and I’m… I’m your… dad….”

The tears are creeping up on him again, and he follows Ciris example, scrunching his nose and blinking hard.

“You are my world now, little one. I will love you as well as I can. Keep you safe in the world. I hope to bring you joy, daughter mine.”

Geralt speaks softly, quietly, testing out the words. He speaks them like a secret, like a confession in the darkness. Not even in front of Jaskier will he be able to speak these truths.

“I just want you to be happy, little one.” He says, stroking her soft cheek.

Her hands catch his fingers, squeezing them, and then putting them in her mouth. He smiles, letting her chew on him. She doesn’t have teeth yet, but when she does, he bets she will be fierce.

When Jaskier walks in the room, he finds their daughter fast asleep, Geralt's big hand in a tight grip.

The first time Ciri calls Geralt ‘dad’, her eyes sparkling and small white teeth in a grin, it’s a near thing again. They decided Jaskier will be ‘papa’ and Geralt ‘dad’, for simplicity.

“Daaa!” she yells, throwing herself in Geralt's arms with the shrieking kind of giggle only a toddler can pull off, trusting Geralt to catch her.

He always does, and he always will.

“Little one.” He smiles, scooping her up and twirls them around in a tight circle. He peppers her snotty little face in kisses, the baby smell soft and warm and full of comfort.

“I love it when you are happy.” He whispers in her hair, but she doesn’t have time for that. She wriggles and twists and turns, so he puts her down, and she makes her wobbly way over to Jaskier.

“Papaaa!” She yells, and this time it is Jaskiers turn to catch. He is sitting on the the couch with his arms wide and waiting.

Next to him sits Roach, a stray cat Jaskier decided they simply had to adopt, despite cats reluctance to witchers.

Roach watches Ciri, blinking slowly at her with her tail twitching, and then Ciri is all caught up in Jaskiers arms and hoisted high. This is Ciris favorite game, and Geralt can feel the sting in his eyes when he watches the three favorite beings in his entire world.

A scabby cat, a small magical baby and a half elf, the man of his dreams.

“Daa sad?” Ciri asks, twisting in Jaskiers arms to watch Geralt.

Jaskier presses a kiss to the side of her face.

“I think dad is happy, darling.” Jaskier tells her.

Their little one is growing up so fast.

Her magic acted up early, and earned her a place at Aretusa, a school with teachers specialized in handling magic and it’s dealings.

Geralt was sceptical at first, but when Ciri came home, bubbling with energy and happiness and telling them all about her new best friend Dara, favorite teachers Triss and Yenna, and they are married, dads!! Married!

And all doubts melt away. The world around them has come a long way.

When Jaskier tucks her in that night, she asks Jaskier why he and Geralt aren’t married yet.

And Geralt cries silently in the hallways when Jaskier kisses her and whisper conspiratorially.

“Maybe you should help me ask him, hm?”

Ciri wants to work as a witcher, and Geralt's heart breaks.

He tells her no, please, little one, choose something else, anything else. They have a big fight, Geralt's words failing him when Ciri’s own tears fall.

“I am already accepted in Kaer Morhen, dad.” She yells. “I just wanted you to be proud of me.”

“I am, cub. I always am.” He says quietly, and they stare at each other.

Jaskier says she takes after him, and Geralt can see it now. She is so stubborn and fierce. He’d like to think that she took the best of them both, and he thinks she did.

“I just want you to be happy.” He whispers, wiping the tears from his stubbled and scarred cheeks. “I don’t want you to end up like me.”

“Aren’t you happy, dad?” She asks, voice wavering and fists clenched at her sides.

“I am now.” he says. “With you, Jaskier, and even that wretched cat in my life. But Kaer Morhen-”

“-It’s not the same as 90 years ago. No mutagens. No experiments or forced orphans. I looked into it. Vesemir runs it now, and they have changed the ways to be a witcher.”

He pulls his little one close. Hugs her small frame, kisses the top of his head. He never told her about those days, but she is a big girl now. Intelligent and independent and strong. She must have googled the horrors of Kaer Morhen, seen his drawn face whenever the old principal Stregobor was shown on Tv.

“I trust you, cub.” He whispers in her hair, and she sniffles into his shirt. “I just don’t want you to be as broken as me. I want you safe, and happy.”

“You taught me love like no one else, daa.” She says, and they cry together in the tiny, worn kitchen, sun shining in through dirty windows.

Jaskier holds his hand when they walk up the stairs. Holds him close when they sit in the first row in the temple.

Ciri stands by the altar, her eyes bright and nervous, her usually wild hair pulled up in a neat braid, fitting for the Skellige isles. Her dress is creamy white, flowing, and she is no longer the little girl that used to play dress up in their living room.

A grown woman stands there, a single flower in rich blue in her hand.

Everybody stands when the door opens behind them. Warriors on all sides raise their spears in salute, creating an arch for their queen to walk through.

Cerys appears in the doorway, every bit as regal as last he saw her, dress a rich blue and furs thrown over her shoulders, a single flower in creamy white in her hand.

Maybe he should be watching the queen.

Maybe he should pay his respect, but Geralt has eyes for nothing but his girl.

Behind him, he can hear Triss muffle a sob, and Geralt feels his own resolve break.

Ciri is watching her queen. Her hands are shaking, her breath coming fast, feet squared as if for battle. But her eyes are filled with such devotion and happiness, and Geralt's tears are spilling over.

Jaskier lifts their joined hands to his lips, and presses a kiss over his scarred knuckles. A wedding band adorns Geralt's finger, a matching one on Jaskier.

Soon their little girl will wear one of her own.

Geralt leans over to Jaskier and whisper in his ear.

“I love you. With all of my heart.” he says, as Ciri says those exact words to Cerys in front of the altar. “I am so glad she is happy.”

[hopespeaknursery]

Big Boys Don't Cry

Note: I don't dislike Toko, OR Genocider! This was just a request from about a month ago! Little!Byakuya CG!Toko CG!Makoto

Byakuya felt the heavy gust of air he had been holding in leave his lungs as he stepped into the school. In one hand, he held his book bag. And in the other, he held the smaller, thinner hand of the writing prodigy herself, Toko Fukawa. Or, as she preferred to be called, 'mama.' As they entered, she gave his hand a squeeze, as though to remind him that she was right there. Or, perhaps to reassure herself, more so then she was reassuring him. Despite being the alleged 'adult' in this relationship, she seemed to need just as much consoling as a child did. Though, perhaps it was unfair to fault her for that.

Even if she had kept him up late last night over the phone with her neediness..

She walked him down the hallway, holding his hand tightly as she warily scanned the students that walked past. Byakuya couldn't even make eye contact with the other students without Toko reacting. Whether that be through a hand squeeze, or a glare, or what have you. She simply had to make it known that something wasn't right. That something Byakuya was doing wasn't right..

As if he didn't get that enough from his own father. Did she truly insist upon breathing down his neck just as intensely?

Toko walked him to his first class, just as she always did. And, she sent him away with the usual. A nervous little smile, and a squeeze to his hand. She went in for a kiss to his cheek. Despite knowing how he felt about public affection. And she frowned when he pushed her away. But, she relented quickly, knowing better than to fight by now. Once she was sure he was secure, she made her way off to her own classroom on her own. With Byakuya watching her go.

Once he was sure she wasn't watching anymore...he turned away from the classroom, and made his way down the opposite end of the hall. He knew better than to skip. He wasn't like Kuwata or Oowada. The delinquents who skipped simply because they couldn't be bothered to go to class. But, what was he missing anyhow? Nothing he didn't already know. What was the point in going to class? It was a bunch of tedious nothing to him. So long as he didn't miss anything beyond first period, he was sure he would be fine. Besides, even if he did go, he highly doubt he would be able to focus. Not with how exhausted he was..

Before he knew it, he had arrived at his favorite little 'quiet area.' The library archives. Old videos of school events from years previous. Dusty, outdated textbooks that had been left to collect dust. Dog-eared, withered books, that no one had touched in some time. No one came in this room. Even those seeking a quiet place to hide or rest, tended to visit the roof, or an empty club room. But never this dusty place. This was Byakuya's room.

After shutting the door behind him, he released another sigh, and let his tired legs lower him to the ground. He was all alone. He could allow himself to be weak and tired. Something his father and mother never allowed him to be.

Something his own 'mama' didn't allow him to be.

Sitting on the carpet, Byakuya pressed the back of his head against the little wall space that wasn't occupied by a book shelf. His legs were splayed out before him, and he let his eyes gaze up at the ceiling. He needed to rest. But, he doubt he would get much of that. His stomach was starting to twist up. Not out of guilt for ditching mind you. Byakuya had always been taught to never feel guilty for his own actions. Guilt would only push him back, and stop him from making important decisions. In other words, if he had let himself feel guilty, he never would have surpassed his many brothers and sisters to become the Togami heir. No, it wasn't guilt. It was...anxiety perhaps? This was the first break he had had in quite a bit. He thought that having a mama would have given him more breaks but...

How in the world had he ended up in this situation..

He knew Miss. Fukawa had loved him since the beginning. She was starved for affection and attention. And he was her target. She had confronted him one day. And had pleaded with him. She would do anything. She would be anything he wanted. She would preform for him, hurt herself for him, die for him. Her dedication had scared him. And yet, it intrigued him at the same time. Perhaps, this was something he could have used to his own benefit. Were his intentions selfish? Perhaps they had been at first. But, his own selfish whims had quickly been turned on their head.

He never wanted to involve her in his age regression. He had never ever intended to. This was his safe place. This was his way to enjoy himself and relax. But, he had foolishly let his guard down. For about a month, she had been nothing but subservient. She had really and truly done whatever he had asked. She carried his things, she made her presence scarce when he wanted nothing to do with her, hell, she allowed him to use her as a footrest here and there. She was truly the perfect servant.

He had let his guard down around her. And, she came to find out about his regression, through his own carelessness. She had walked in. She had seen him regressed. Oh the look in her eyes when she had seen him..

Shock, disbelief, perhaps even disappointment. This was not the Master that she knew. This was not the person she remembered. But, perhaps her heart had softened when she saw him cry... She loved her Master too much to see him cry. Even if those feelings were not quite reprobated.

He still remembered how it had felt when she put her arms around him. She had a very musky scent. Body odor that still made him wince. Her arms were spindly, and her hair was oily, as though she hadn't bathed in days. And yet, in that moment, it just hadn't mattered. For, he couldn't remember the last time he had been held in such a way. He had put his arms around her right back as she soothed him. Told him it was okay. Told him that she would take care of him. She wouldn't tell a soul. And that she loved him. She loved 'Kuya.'

How could he have turned away the love he had been denied all his life. Despite having been taught he didn't need it. Despite never fully understanding what he had been missing. This strange, and different girl had promised it to him.

And now, he just needed to give it back.

Things had been okay at first. Things had been normal. But, she began to push after a while. She wasn't satisfied. He went from giving the orders, to taking them. She wasn't used to taking care of babies. She didn't want to change diapers or play his baby games. She wanted someone older. And, despite his need to stay small, he did what she asked. Unconsciously. Because, he needed that affection. He didn't like Toko, he had never been able to like Toko. And yet, she made the time of day to hold him. Something his little side so badly needed. So...he did what she said.

And then...he met Syo.

'A secret for a secret.' That was what Toko had said. She revealed her DID. And she revealed to him, Syo.

Syo wasn't as kind as Toko was. (Well...kind in a rather loose sense of the word he supposed)

Syo loved pain. She loved to see others hurting. Especially those she had deemed as beautiful. And to her, Byakuya was the most beautiful of them all. She loved to see him hurt. She wanted to see him cry. She couldn't get enough of that scared look on his face when she fronted. If Toko was 'mama,' then Syo was more like...a terrorizing older sister of sorts.

What made it worse, was that..Toko didn't share any of Syo's memories. She didn't know of anything Syo had done. Not unless someone told her. Though, telling Toko what she had done was not an option, as she had said. Because if Byakuya told, she would know. And, there would be hell to pay. So, he kept his mouth shut. And allowed the bullying to continue...

He couldn't get her words out of his head..

'You're cute kid! But you're no 'Young Master.' My darling would never stoop as low as to cry and whine like a little baby brat! So, I can't say I feel sorry for you one bit! I do love that crying face of yours though! So go on! Cry for me won't ya?'

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he realized tears were running down his face. A-Ah. His hands were shaking. He didn't want to go back to Toko after school. But what choice did he have now?

The job of a system, was to protect the host. So, if he broke Toko's heart and walked away, Syo would hurt him. Again...

He lowered his face into his hands with a sniffle. He was scared. He was so so scared. He didn't want to go back. But he didn't know what to do...

He was so caught up in his own fear and worry, that he only barely heard the doorknob rattle. So, he was a little too late when he lifted his head...

"N-Naegi," he managed to say, just barely popping out of his frightened little space. "What are you doing here?"

It took a moment before the boy could speak, a little too surprised! As one would be after finding THE Byakuya Togami in such a state... "Oh. Ah! Well, um, nothing really," Makoto stammered. "Sorry. I was just looking for a quiet place to sit and study."

"During class?" Byakuya asked with a raised brow.

"Well...I guess I wasn't feeling too prepared for today's exam," he blushed. "But anyway..is everything okay? You look upset."

"What was your first clue Naegi?" he scoffed, wiping his eyes. "Leave me alone."

Makoto lingered for a moment, shuffling his feet. He wasn't so good at this sort of thing. How could he comfort this boy? Someone of such high importance. "I mean...I could do that," he said slowly. "Or...I could stay. That's an option too."

"It's not a good one, I can tell you right now," Byakuya warned.

"Why are you crying?" Makoto asked anyhow, rather bluntly too..

"That is none of your business!" Byakuya scolded. "I told you to leave me alone!"

"Um...no," Makoto said nervously. "I'm not going to do that. You look like you really need some company right now. So, I'll stay right here with you. Until you feel better." Byakuya glared in response. That is until.. "I mean. I could get Toko for you instead. If you want. I think she knows you better than I do and all. So, if I can't do anything to help.."

"Don't!" he said suddenly, looking ready to get up. His sudden exclamation startled Makoto, leaving him with a rather 'deer in the headlights-esk' expression. "You don't need to go and get her okay? This has nothing to do with her!"

"Well, I never said it had anything to do with her," Makoto pointed out. "I'm just saying. You two are always together and all. I just thought that if anyone could help, it would be her.."

"Ah...yes. You're right," Byakuya swallowed.

"Right.." he said unsurely. But seeing Byakuya's expression left him rooted to the spot. "But..you don't want to see Toko right now, do you?"

"What gave you that idea?" Byakuya scoffed.

"Well, it's just...you look really...unhappy," he said. "More so than usual I mean. I'm sorry if it's too personal but...is everything okay? Are you okay?"

Byakuya was quiet at that question. As much as Toko tried to be his CG, she wasn't very considerate. She was quick to take any sign of unhappiness as a personal attack. And, it was up to him to console her when HE was upset. It wasn't fair.. So, she didn't often ask if he was okay. Even when she did, it never ended with him getting what he needed. It was such a bad question. And yet, when Makoto asked it, with such clear sincerity on his face, he didn't feel quite as bad. He didn't feel as though he had to be careful with how he answered. He felt like he would be listened to.

Perhaps it was because of this that, despite knowing better, his regressed side began to poke out. Little 'Kuya.'

And, he began to cry.

Once again, Byakuya found himself wondering how he ended up like this... His head cushioned in the lap of the school nobody, Makoto Naegi. The child who always seemed to have at least one food stain made by a careless mistake after their lunch break. The boy who forgot to brush his hair now and again. The silly boy who had even tried to sneak away from class, after forgetting to study. Byakuya's head was resting upon that worthless somebody's lap. And, he had spilt everything. He hadn't meant to, and yet it had all come out anyhow. It was mortifying. Yet, he felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest.

"Geez..." Makoto said slowly. It had been quite a lot of information to take in at once, so he wasn't sure what to think at first! "That's...that's really a lot. I'm sorry you had to deal with it by yourself."

Byakuya said nothing for now, sniffling bitterly.

When he didn't answer, Makoto continued for him. "I can't imagine carrying all of that on my own. It must have been really tough." His perseverance earned him an answer in the form of a nod. "It's hard enough imagining what it's like being the heir in a family as important as yours. I don't blame you for doing what you've gotta do to cope. Even if I don't super understand it," he admit. "But...to have someone invade on your safe space must be..." he faltered for a moment.

"Not fair..." Byakuya finished for him with a sniff.

"Yeah, exactly," Makoto nodded. He chewed his lip as he thought over what to say. Maybe this wasn't the right thing to suggest. He couldn't imagine how angry Byakuya was already going to be later on at Makoto for being so involved! This could land him in even hotter water. But, he had to try! "Do you think...I could help you with any of this?"

That gave Byakuya some pause. Asking for, or accepting help was seen as a show of weakness in the Togami family. He prided himself on being able to work alone. But...he had to admit despite how much it pained him, that he wasn't so sure if he could do this alone..

"How?" Byakuya mumbled.

"Well...for starters, maybe I could talk to Toko? If Syo is as scary as she sounds, then that might be hard. But I'm sure I could at least make some sort of influence. Because, we really need to get you out of this relationship. It can't be good for you," Makoto pointed out.

"Yeah.." Byakuya agreed, wiping his eyes as he resisted the urge to regress further. But, Makoto just made him feel so so safe... "I'm not happy with her anymore. I don't want this anymore."

"No, I wouldn't think so," Makoto soothed, smoothing down his blonde hair. "And then after that's over...I mean...I could um..." Makoto faltered.

"You could...what?" Byakuya asked.

Makoto bit his lip. Then, in a rush he said, "I could help you with the regression thing." He didn't give Byakuya much time to think about what he had said, before he began a sort of nervous word-vomit. "I know we don't get along all that well and all! Or well, it's not that we don't get along. It's more like we don't really talk much. And, I get a feeling you don't like me all that much. But, I'd like to try and help, if you'd let me! I don't know a lot about caretaking or anything! This is kind of my first time! I babysat here and there, so that has to count for something right?"

Byakuya snivling stopped for a moment as he listened to Makoto ramble. Goodness. Why was he going on and going on like this still? As though he truly cared? No one could truly love a Togami, could they? Other than Toko anyway. Yet, her love was something he didn't want. Of course Makoto didn't love him, he knew that! Frankly, he would be a little weirded out if he did! But...he cared for him. That much he knew he supposed.

He sat up, and held up a hand, stopping him. "Enough," Byakuya sighed.

"A-ah. Sorry. I said too much, didn't I?" Makoto blushed.

"No. I'd say you said just enough," Byakuya said. "I will entrust you with this. Every secret I've shared does not leave this room."

"Of course! I wouldn't dream of telling anyone else!" Makoto quickly said.

"Good," he nodded, pushing himself to his feet. "Then...I am trusting you to deal with Toko."

"..oh!" he gasped. "I mean. Yeah! I can do that!" Makoto said eagerly. "For sure!" Ah, he supposed the other suggestion was out of the question the huh? Well, eh was glad he could help at least a little bit though!

Byakuya straightened himself out as the bell rang for class to end. Ah, had he really been in here that long. Oh dear. Toko was sure to look for him.. He turned to Makoto once more. And..he extended his hand. "Naegi. Come with me," he instructed.

Ah! He wanted to hold his hand? Makoto was stunned for a moment! Though, he quickly broke out of it when Byakuya snapped his fingers a few times at him. "Sorry, sorry!" Makoto said quickly, taking Byakuya's hand. "I'll come with you, I'll come."

"Good," Byakuya nodded, giving that hand a squeeze. It was a lot warmer then Toko's. A bit fuller then her's too. He liked it..

As he led Makoto out, he spoke. "And. As for your other offer. I...do not accept it. But I do not decline it either," he said.

"Offer? Oh! Haha, it was a bit too much huh?" Makoto chuckled. "Sorry about that, I don't know what I was thinking. I-"

"Ah. So you don't want to do it?"

"Huh? No! I didn't mean that! I mean..." Makoto faltered. "If you'll let me, then I'd love to!"

Byakuya nodded as they walked out of the archive together. "Fine," he nodded. "Hurry up. I don't want to be late."

"Coming!" Makoto nodded as he hurried along. And yet, even as he was rushed, he couldn't help but smile.

It was pretty unexpected. But, he potentially had a baby on his hands now~

[fascination-street-writing]

Jumping on Someone Else’s Train | Narancia Ghirga x GN!Reader

His is the face of the one who lost everything, found everything, and lost it all again.

A Canon Divergence AU, in which Narancia does not follow Bucciarati on the boat in Venezia

- 200 Follower Giveaway Piece I for @vergissmeinnnicht​ -

Content Warnings: Regret, Angst, Mentions of Alcoholism, & Mentions of Other Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

Men and women clad in suits of varying styles and colors stand along the proscenium of the tracks, waiting for the first wave of commuter trains from Venezia. With thoughts of unfinished reports, soccer practices, and uncertainties of whether to have spaghetti alle vongole or ai ricci for dinner, no one pays heed to the three battered teenagers seated just behind the line – who, mind you, certainly ought to be in school.

To your left, Fugo fumes; and yet, despite his ever-apparent anger, there is unbounded despondency in his violet eyes. Despondency indeed, perhaps for the mutual decision of yours and his, or otherwise, because of Bucciarati’s blasphemy. Although, you suppose that you cannot fault your former Capo. He has always had a proclivity for saving undesirables – yourselves, included. But his kindness is not your own.

To your right, Narancia leans over and slouches, clutching his head between two hands that have not yet healed from his scuffle with the first man of the assassination team. You cannot help but to notice that several of the crackling scabs have been picked open. You regret deeply that you had not offered to run Trish’s errands with the black-haired boy. And, though he will not admit it, as does Fugo.

The sound of a shoe tapping against the concrete flooring would be irksome to you if it were anyone other than Narancia’s doing. You cannot decide if he is merely growing impatient for the train to arrive, or rather, unequivocally conflicted about what has transpired within the past hour. A shuddering breath slips past his lips, expelling as his shoulders begin to quake. He might never forgive you for letting him snivel in public.

Gently, you place your hand on his back. Narancia stills at your touch and allows his own to fall from his reddened cheeks. Reluctantly so, he meets your concerned gaze. He fears he might disintegrate into nothing more than bones if you keep looking at him this way – like you adore and loathe him all the same.

You speak his name softly, reminiscent of some kind of lullaby that his mother might have sung to him during his early adolescence. “We need you to be here,” you tell him.

His nod is an automatic response. He contemplates the bluntness of your words, understanding well enough that they have sprung from a good heart. You have become more like Bucciarati, he thinks; your pension for austerity in love rivals his, to be sure. Narancia swallows and nods once more. “I’m here,” he insists.

He would wince at the cracking of his voice if you had turned away sooner. You pull your hand back and rest it atop your leg, curling your fingers into the threadwork of your pants. “Stay with us, then.”

The rotors of the train squeal as the machinery lulls to a stop. In truth, you would never like to board another train for as long as you should live. But this is not a luxury you can afford.

“Now boarding from Stazione di Venezia Santa Lucia to Napoli Centrale. Total travel time – seven hours and thirty-nine minutes. First stop: Ferrara.”

Within the compartment of the train, Fugo sits beside you and pours over a bit of reading that he had swiped from a kiosk before embarking. Narancia determines that the book the younger boy reads must be painfully dreadful, or implausibly wonderful. His brow furrows, as if deeply embedded in his own thoughts, but his fingers never bend to turn the page.

A quivery sigh escapes as you stare from the window, appearing to be as bored as ever. The Italian countryside passes by in blurs of likewise colored landscapes. Narancia wonders how it is that you can tell the difference between a vineyard and a farm against the speed of travel. Or maybe you cannot, though you try to anyways.

You stifle a yawn, finally succumbing to the exhaustion that has accumulated over the past several days. And yet, despite it all, you are still living. Narancia feels his own jaw beginning to twitch, and his mind drifts elsewhere, to the interlude of youth before life with Bucciarati became quite so complicated; good thoughts to keep him grounded amidst the unrest of divided loss.

As it were, he remembers the day when he first met you as if it were yesterday. Before Mista, Abbacchio, and certainly Giorno – back when the two of you, Fugo, and Bucciarati made for the greatest family whom he had ever known. The only other time Narancia has ever seen such strain upon your face was when Bucciarati took you into his home, still clothed in street-rags and muddied shoes. You had not even joined Passione yet; their then eighteen-year-old leader had acted of his own volition to take you in. He always has had a way of saving people.

Narancia knows your strife as if it is his own. Your mother died and your father neglected you; you took to thievery and pickpocketing to find whatever you needed to spend a night without an empty stomach. It was only a matter of time until, provoked by the unfortunate solidarity of utter hurt, you had clicked with the two boys.

But it was not always this way.

In truth, your eagerness to snub the boy is, of some emotional gravity, debilitating. He has always believed friendship to be deserving of the highest value of any other virtue in life. When you observe his struggles to solve seemingly simple math equations during tutoring sessions, with such an unreadable look on your face, he dreads that your hesitation has born itself from an aura of superiority that you harbor against him. The moment you turn away as Fugo’s chastisement rains upon him, he wonders how he might ever be good enough to earn your favor when he cannot be good enough for himself.

When he speculates his plan to befriend you, he thinks without fail that it must be the most brilliant little scheme in the world. Narancia begins by buying you a chocolate bar from the corner store down the street, because what peer of your age does not like chocolate? By the time he has returned home, it has begun to melt in his pocket. He hopes you will not mind, and if you do, he has already decided that he will go back and purchase a second one – cognizant to carry it instead, rather than stuffing it in his corduroys.

To his chagrin, you turn your nose up at the creased, seeping parcel. “I hate sweets,” you tell him with a heavy insistence and no succeeding explanation or defense. Never mind that he had caught you sneaking cake from the kitchen last night when you thought everyone else had gone to bed.

Alas, his resolve is strong. He supposes that it was wrong of him to assume that you would indulge in a chocolate bar, because it is simply not the same thing as cake. During an astronomy lesson with Fugo, a fetching optimism takes over. That evening, he forgoes dinner to sweep the terracotta roof of dead leaves and earthly dust. He rummages through his closet for the softest blanket he owns – blue gingham that had once belonged to his mother.

He runs into you in the hallway on his way to your bedroom; budding with courage, he asks if you would care to watch the stars with him on the rooftop, because the window in his room leads right to the widow’s walk. You roll your eyes and turn away, muttering, “Constellations make me dizzy.” But did you not tell Bucciarati in passing yesterday just how much you love searching for the little dipper when the night skies are forgiving?

Narancia’s spur is beginning to wane, though he cannot blame you. Perhaps he has been reading you wrong. He simply has not pinpointed your interests – that is all. Flipping through the channels of the television, he stumbles upon a culinary program of an older man demonstrating how to prepare bucatini alla carbonara. Struck with inspiration, the boy rushes to the market for pancetta, parmesan, and dried pasta; he has never quite had the patience for making fresh dough, so he settles for pre-packed bucatini. Surely, you will understand.

And so, he leads you into the kitchen with a grin on his face. While pointing to the array of ingredients on the counter, he asks you to lend a hand and to help him prepare dinner. You are all in need of a reprieve from Il Libeccio. “I don’t like cooking,” you say, disinterested. It surely must have been a ghost who prepared the rigatoni al pesto on this past domenica, then.

Narancia does not have high hopes when he extends to you the offer of catching the movie Panni Sporchi in the theater with Fugo and he. His crushed spirits know better by now. But it never hurts to try.

You set down whatever magazine you have snatched from the corner store and cock an eyebrow. “Comedies aren’t my thing,” you utter. “They’re not even that funny. Besides, they’re just poor imitations of life. So are romances. And dramas. Thrillers – horrors . . . Actually, I hate movies.”

He bears it with a curt nod, choosing to ignore that you had held a private viewing of Auguri Professore in the living room yesterday. His head tells him that you do not wish to be his friend, amongst other things – but his heart insists that one day, you will.

It is by chance that he should wake up this night with the irrepressible urge to use the bathroom. On his way back, skin still damp from the sink, Narancia tiptoes along the embroidered vines of the carpet. It is a solitary game he only partakes in when no one is around to question his antics. When he hears a hiccup, he surmises that he has been caught. His sock-clad feet sink into the floor as he stills and prepares himself for whatever beratement is sure to follow. Instead, there is only another gasp for breath.

No, not a hiccup, he notices: it is the sound of grief that came from your bedroom. With little regard to your privacy, he peaks his head through the cracked door.

“What are you doing, Narancia?” you demand as you wipe the back of your nose and hoist the blankets – wetted by your tears – up to your shoulders. “Get out of my room.”

In this moment, it is as if the clouds have parted and clarity canvases the sky. All this time, he truly was enough for you – it was you who was not adequate for yourself. And here you are, curled up in your bed with swollen eyes that beg him to stay even though you had told him otherwise. You are tormented by bad memories that ought to be shed like snakeskin.

Narancia steps forward. “I just wanted to tell you, uh, it’s okay to cry,” he says with a certain tenderness that seems so unfamiliar to you. He rubs the back of his neck, averting your gaze. “Even if you don’t think so.”

You gawk at him and say nothing, for words have failed you. The silence is deafening, all the same. It is an audacious move, but he smiles to you – a gesture of compassion – before turning to leave. He has overstayed his welcome, and your unrelenting stare does not make him feel any better.

“Wait.” He stops, anticipating your delayed retaliation. “Could you . . . Can you spend the night with me?”

As he lies in bed next to you, distance kept by a pillow wedged between your bodies, Narancia beams – but you cannot see outline of his grin in the darkness of the room. This night and many more will pass, and you slowly become something of a beacon. He is beholden to you, because you make him feel appreciated in the ways that not even Fugo or Bucciarati can. For this reason, he will always cherish you – a talisman encapsulated within a friend.

And now, though the seeds of regret have already begun to spring roots within him – hyacinths embedded in his heart –, he will stay strong, for you are like a pharos to him. If not resiliency for his own sake, then certainly yours.

At least, for as long as he can.

“Hey, Narancia.” Startled, he jumps in his seat and clasps his knees tightly. “Is there something on my face?” you ask.

“I – Huh?” he stumbles over any response that might have come to mind. “What do you mean?”

You chuckle. “Well, it’s just that you’ve been staring at me for the past ten minutes.”

“Uh . . . I  . . .”

Fugo drags his gaze from his book to your face. “I don’t see anything,” he assures with a shrug. “Actually, come to think of it, I think your nose has gotten bigger.”

The banter of humor between you and Fugo is lost on the black-haired boy. Or rather, he is far too distracted to mimic it. He stands from his seat abruptly and reaches for the door to the compartment. “I have to piss,” he mutters.

He is gone before either of you can comment on his sudden brashness. In his absence, you nudge Fugo and gesture towards his book; just as Narancia had noted, you realize that your strawberry blonde friend has not gotten past the first page of the novel ever since you had departed. You left nearly an hour ago.

“My head is just elsewhere, I guess,” he confesses to your proclamation. He closes the book and sets it down on the seat. “I’m fine, though. As much as I can be. But Narancia isn’t.”

You hum in agreeance. “I’ll go check on him.”

Water rushes from the faucet and pools in the porcelain, ceramic bowl of the basin. Steam wafts towards the ceiling, blanketing the mirror in a cloud. Narancia’s fingers curl around the rim of the sink so tightly that the coloring flees from his knuckles. He feels like a phantom, for a part of him has surely died back in Venezia.

In another world, he imagines that he might have followed Bucciarati – as would have you and Fugo. But this is nothing more than a nonsensical thought that can never be anything more than an instance of intangible pondering. He does not wipe the fog from the mirror, because he cannot bear the sight of the boy who will greet him in return.

His is the face of the one who lost everything, found everything, and lost it all again. His stomach churns and his head whirls with aches. He has never been the type of person to boast of his character; it takes a humble attitude to realize that there is nothing special about oneself – until there is. Truly, Narancia once believed that he was a proper man, because he worked for someone as virtuous as the young Capo, whose confidence bred itself and more.

“I guess I’m not much of one now,” Narancia mumbles aloud with a sigh of vexation. “Not like Mista, Abbacchio . . . or Giorno.”

He taps the tip of his shoe against the linoleum floor. As it were, his socialization into Passione – no, into Bucciarati’s squad – has taught him the moral necessities of defending the weak who cannot otherwise safeguard nor vindicate themselves. Betraying him is a dreadful regret. How can he ignore the voice in his head that affirms his folly and tells him that he is no better for abandoning Trish in all her temperamental, vain ways, either?

When the sound of knuckles rapping against the door startles him from his thoughts, his first impulse is to lash out at whoever has disrupted his mind chamber of self-reflection. “Hey, can’t you read, idiota?” he demands, angrily. “Bathroom’s occupied.”

“Narancia, it’s just me.” The scowl on his face falters as he recognizes your voice. He turns the squealing faucet until it has dried. He does not stop to catch his staggered breaths before opening the door, and perhaps he should have. Even though you have become such close companions, you still make him feel like a child under your anatomizing gaze – as if there is something particularly interesting about him after all, which takes him for a good subject of study.

Your look of concern is jarring. For a moment, it is difficult to breathe, and he wishes he had tried to calm himself first. So much for staying strong for them. You step forward and lock the sliding door behind you. If it were anyone else – even Fugo – the proximity of your body to his might have made him uneasy. You drag a finger through the film of steam on the mirror. “I’m going to ask you something,” you begin to say, “and I’d like you to answer me, honestly. Are you alright?”

He chokes up at your words, because yes – he is perfectly fine; healthy, albeit a bit battered still from his fracas with Formaggio. As soon as he manages to stop himself from instigating the scabs on his knuckles, they will heal, and he will be left with nothing more than pink scar-tissue as an everlasting memento of these past few days.

But, in other contingencies of prosperity, he is unequivocally not alright. Against his better sense of control, his eyes well up with tears, and his cognition scatters.

“Narancia?”

There are many things that a person indulges in as a means of coping, some safer than others. Men fall to the bottle, like Abbacchio – and men lash out in violent rages, such as Fugo. He could keep picking at his scabs, find an emptied compartment to scream in, or pull out his unkempt hair. Contrition moves through him like a venom, and he supposes he should find a way to suck it out before it kills him.

His hands meet your arms in a shockingly gentle, clammy grasp; he jerks himself closer and suddenly, his lips are on your own and he is kissing you. His teeth scrape against your own and he pulls you flush, as if he cannot get close enough to you already, desperate to suffocate the detrimental notions running through him. Stunned and too preoccupied with dwelling on the sweet taste of his mouth, you have forgotten how to reciprocate.

You break apart and shrug the grip on your arms, unsure of what to say as his desperate indigo ogling gauges you for a reaction – whether you should berate him or express your equal adoration, anything is preferable than the silence. “I . . . I’m sorry,” he finally says when you have not.

“It’s fine,” you insist, an unreadable poignancy sweeping your face. “You can do it again, if you need to. I don’t mind.”

He must have heard you wrong; surely, you did not give him such a blessing as this. And yet, when he cups your jaw and meets your lips halfway, you do not shove him off. Instead, you repay the gesture and swipe your tongue along his own. His heart sings for you, like a schoolboy’s choir: thank you, thank you, thank you. You swear that your legs have become melting gold, for they quiver and you can no longer stand on your own.

Or maybe it is because the train has lurched forward. Despite the separation of your lips, Narancia catches you in arms that harbor unassuming strength, but make you feel guarded, all the same. It is strange, you reflect: he has always been something of a haven to you, ever since the night when you had cast aside all hesitations of welcoming him into your circle and did exactly that.

“I just want you to know that everything will be okay,” you tell him – about the kiss, about the train, or about your shared regrets, he does not know. No matter the intent, he enjoys listening to your voice. “You aren’t alone in this, Nara. We both made the decision to leave. You don’t have to suffer on your own, because I feel just as guilty, too.”

He frowns.

“Besides, we have all we need. You, me, and Fugo. I’m glad you’re here, you know; I couldn’t do this without you.” He hastily wipes away the tears that trickle down his cheeks. Stop crying, he sneers to himself. Stop it, stop it, stop it. You pull his frantic hand away from his reddened face and lace your fingers with his, so that he might not try it again. “It’s okay to cry, even if you don’t think so.”

He blooms and comes undone, sobbing into the crook of your neck and clasping your shirt so tightly that the spooling contorts and wrinkles. You trace shapes against his back, creasing the leather with your nails. Slow, tentative, and soft. He wishes to stay like this forever, bathroom or not – just so long as he has you.

While Narancia straightens himself and splashes fresh water upon his face, you wait for him at the door. He hesitates to follow you back to the compartment, because he can lose himself to grief exactly where he is without repercussion. You know this well, and so you extend your arm for him to take with a sense of hushed encouragement. His fingers meet yours, only this time, it is not to stop him from swiping at his face until his skin is raw. “We should check on Fugo, yeah?” you suggest.

“Yeah . . .”

Down the corridor, he trails behind you like a lost stray to his savior. In a way, that is exactly what you are, he thinks. And he will forever be grateful for it. It is not until you have returned to the strawberry blonde that Narancia lets his grasp fall from yours. You return to your seats, and Fugo offers his own attempt at a smile to you each. His book lies in his lap, untouched and unmoved.

“So, Fugo.” You drag out his name, as if deep in thought. “Did you get past the first page yet?”

| 3704 Words |