#we’re on frozen pines and he’s still staring but he’s laid down and is falling asleep

[danidoesathing]

Bro is mesmerized by the concept of a spinning record

[alpacaparkaseok]

Falling, falling

“I have loathed you since I first laid eyes on you.”

“Likewise.”

 Pairing: Slytherin!Tae x. Gryffindor!reader

 Words: 13.9k (don’t @ me I didn’t intend for this to happen)

 Genre: Hogwarts!BTS, e2l

 Warnings/rating: SFW, pining, Tae is a lovable brat™, reader is a mess, lots of pining, tension lol, kinda veiled threats but nothing violent I swear

 A/N: This is an installment in the BTS meets Hogwarts collaboration with @homeofbangtan! It’s been so fun working with these lovely writers, and I hope you guys enjoy this one shot as well as the rest of the installments! As always, pls let me know if this was decent. Love you all! banner made by the talented @ttaetae

Hogwarts: Year Seven

You dislike Kim Taehyung by association.

It began in your third year at Hogwarts. Prowling the quidditch pitch in your first match against Slytherin, you nearly fell off your broom when you were jostled by chasers. You were mortified to see that by the time you’d clambered back into flying position, Park Jimin had caught the snitch and won the game for Slytherin.

Frozen by the fact that you’d just lost the first game you ever played in, you didn’t hear Jin, your friend and fellow beater on the Gryffindor team, calling for you to fly down. No, you were stuck. Staring at the waves of Slytherins as they cheered and their team flew around them in victory. Something in that crowd made you freeze, although you weren’t sure what it was until you saw him.

Somehow, in the sea of green and silver, you focused on a single face. Mischievous eyes peeked out from under a mop of curly black hair, drawing you in with their own form of gravity.

Kim Taehyung stared up at you, completely focused as you gawked from your broom. For a single moment, nothing else existed as you locked eyes with the Slytherin boy. The cheers died away until all that was left were his eyes, holding you in place.

Slowly and deliberately, he arched a brow and smirked. Without a single word, you heard him loud and clear.

What are you staring at?

Embarrassed and ashamed, you jolted when someone tapped on your shoulder. “Oi!” Jin yelled above the din of the crowd. The sound all came rushing in, nearly knocking you off your broom. “You coming down or not?”

Swinging your bat in your hand and wondering if it would be worth it to chuck it at Taehyung, you offered Jin a nonchalant shrug. “Sorry, coming.” You could feel Taehyung’s eyes on you from where he sat in the stands, could feel that gaze even as you walked off the pitch and went inside the locker rooms.

Since third year, you’ve never been able to shake that feeling. That embarrassment at being caught staring at him, at losing your first match. Ever since then, you’ve associated Kim Taehyung with one thing and one thing only: losing.

You hate losing.

You hate Kim Taehyung.

But this year…

“Students, we’re about to commence the sorting ceremony. If you would please take your seats, we’ll bring in our new students! Please remember to make them feel welcome!” The headmaster smiles out at the students that fill the Great Hall, all in different house colors and ages. “And to those of you who have finally reached your seventh and final year…”

The room falls silent, everyone holding their breath as they glance around at the seventh years. You sit as still as possible, heart aching to realize that you’re included in that group.

“Welcome home, dear students,” the headmaster continues with a gentle voice. “Hogwarts will always be here to welcome you home.”

The words go right through you as you numbly clap along with the rest of the students. Suddenly, you feel as though you’re out of time. Clenching your jaw, you make a vow to yourself. The familiar prickly feeling between your shoulder blades alerts you to Taehyung’s gaze on you from the Slytherin table, but you refuse to turn around. You refuse to give into him at all.

This year, you refuse to lose.

Starting with Kim Taehyung.

--

“I feel like I’m dying.”

           Taehyung can practically hear Jimin rolling his eyes, but in reality the soft lapping of the lake against the exterior of the Slytherin common room is the only sound tonight.

           “Have you always been this dramatic?” Jimin rolls over on his side, the leather couch squeaking a little under the movement. It’s dark here in the common room, Taehyung has no idea what time it is. Today has been a blur, anyways.

           His expression remains pensive as he stretches his legs on the couch opposite Jimin. “I just can’t believe we’re already here. This…” he furrows his brows, his handsomely sculpted features taking on a more somber tone as he forces the words out. “This is it. The final year.”

           Once again, the common room falls silent and the sound of the lake fills Taehyung’s thoughts. He thinks of Jimin, he thinks of Yoongi. No doubt he’s already asleep, he appeared to be exhausted by the time they made it back from dinner.

           Taehyung thinks about too much, too fast. At last, against his better judgement, he thinks about you. Why does he feel like he’s out of time? He’s never really spoken to you before, so why is he so caught up in this unspoken little game only the two of you know about-

           “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Jimin is saying, although Taehyung can hardly hear him over his own thoughts. “One more year, and then we’re off.”

           Taehyung is so lost trying to fend off the thoughts of you that he completely misses the concerned look Jimin is sending his way. It isn’t until his friend gets up from the couch and comes to sit beside him that he stirs.

           “Hey,” Jimin mumbles, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. “We’ll make this the best year yet. Promise.”

           Pulling a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, Taehyung nods. “It’ll be great.” Faking a yawn, he clambers to his feet and walks across the room to the giant, floor length windows that show the murky interior of the lake. He settles before them like he did all those years ago, recalling how small he felt in his Slytherin robes.

           How much of a traitor he felt like.

           Without a word, Jimin settles beside him, sitting cross-legged on the floor. His face is turned up toward the tops of the windows, almost as though he can see the surface from all the way down here.

           The quiet sound of slippers scuffing along the floor alert the two boys to Yoongi’s presence as he shuffles into the common room, looking bleary eyed. When his eyes spot his two friends sitting on the ground, he rubs his face and waddles over.

           “It’s late,” he mumbles out, plopping down on Tae’s other side. He regards the oldest of the bunch with a half-smile, his worries temporarily slipping away as he breathes deep.

           “Mm. So what are you doing out of bed?”

           Yoongi shrugs, squinting at the murky water. “It’s our last first night, isn’t it?”

           Taehyung lets those words sink in, slow and deep. Why does it feel so final?

           “Who would’ve thought we’d make it this far?” Jimin leans back against his hands, still staring up at the lake where a glint of moonlight pierces the water. It’s enough to bathe the trio in silver even as they think back on their golden years. “I thought McGonagall would have killed us by now.”

           “Speak for yourself, Park,” Yoongi chides. “We’ve been star students, haven’t we Tae?”

           “Exceptional, by my count.”

           “Exactly.” There’s a twinkle in Yoongi’s eyes as he grows more and more awake. “Oh! I almost forgot!” Without another word he’s up and speeding out of the room, leaving Jimin and Tae to share a confused look.

           “I think that’s the fastest I’ve seen him move since I caught that snitch in 3rd year,” Jimin snickers. “He practically broke his neck trying to run out onto the field.”

           Taehyung cackles. “Oh, but there’s that time last year when he forgot his book for the third time in a row to transfiguration, remember? McGonagall threatened to turn him into a neutered cat if he forgot it again.”

           The pair burst out into laughter as they hear Yoongi yell a slew of profanities from down the hallway, completely forgetting that there are plenty of nervous first-years probably trying to catch some sleep tonight. It feels good to laugh loudly, without reservation. Those young first-years will understand in a few years, when they’re suddenly facing their final year and a long list of unanswered questions. Questions like, what is he going to do about you-

           “I have half a mind not to share this with you anymore, you know.” Yoongi has reappeared, holding something behind his back. He shuffles into the room with an annoyed expression that both of his friends can see right through.

           Taehyung smirks up at him, offering his winning smile. “Good thing it’s only half, don’t you think?”

           Rolling his eyes, Yoongi produces a bottle of Butterbeer with a flourish. Both boys gawk over the shiny bottle, reaching out to grab it with wide eyes. “Yah!” Yoongi scolds, “there’s only one to go around! Wait your turn.”

           He sits with a huff, opening the bottle with a pop! before taking a swig. When he finishes, there’s a gleam in his eye that Taehyung can’t quite place. Yoongi passes him the bottle, not meeting his eyes as he stares out the window.

           It’s as Taehyung is taking a sip of the sweet drink that he realizes what Yoongi is so focused on. It’s a dark shape approaching, its inky black outline nearly blending in with the water.

           Taehyung passes the bottle to Jimin, a grin pulling on his lips as he recognizes that figure swimming toward them. “Looks like the old squidster knows it’s a special occasion,” he mumbles under his breath.

           Sure enough, a moment later the giant squid passes slowly in front of the glass, drawing nearer than Taehyung has ever witnessed. It pauses before them, and Taehyung wonders for a moment if it really does know that this is the last time they’ll sit like this.

           High off of returning for another year at Hogwarts, joking and wondering about all that’s to come. A little jittery, even though they’ll never admit it. Caught between the role of student and bright-eyed adults.

           “Hang on, I’m sensing something,” Jimin presses a finger to his temple, screwing his eyes shut. “It’s trying to communicate, I- ah! It wants to know when you’ll stop drooling over that Gryffindor beater- ow!”

           Yelling, pinches, and a near catastrophe with the Butterbeer ensue. Nothing too far out of the ordinary, but it’s somehow still enough to make Taehyung ultra-aware of every little moment. Makes him cling to this sliver of time, tuck it away for future use. Jimin and Yoongi with their snide remarks that nearly mask their friendship, the lake casting a murky shadow into the room that always makes Tae feel like he was swimming on land.

           Tonight is all there is. Just him and his best friends, and a bottle of Butterbeer.

           And you.

           Always you.

----

“I can count on one hand how many times you two have spoken,” Joslyn huffs. You can’t tell if she’s huffing and puffing because you’re rushing to the Great Hall or because she’s annoyed. Your other friends Jin and Jungkook nod along. The three of you are all in your quidditch attire, anxious to get onto the pitch for your game against Slytherin.

“Yeah, so can I,” you retort. “And they were all harrowing experiences.”

Jin snorts. “I mean, anyone that’s friends with Park has got to be a little…”

“Annoying?” Joslyn supplies.

Jungkook shakes his head. “Arrogant?”

“Filthy and disgusting would be my words of choice,” you answer, grabbing the railing at the stairs below you begin to move. “But to each their own.”

“C’mon,” Jungkook mumbles, urging the stairs to move faster. “Alright Fire, give me your predictions for this year’s quidditch champion.”

Fire. You loathe the nickname. Taehyung coined it in fourth year, after a particularly grueling match that you’d lost to Ravenclaw. You’d still been fuming the next morning, which Taehyung had turned into his own personal entertainment.

“Good morning. Still fired up over the game last night, I see.” Taehyung didn’t even look up from his seat when you threw your books down beside him. He was meticulously cleaning out his cauldron, getting ready for potions.

The bane of your entire existence.

Rather than answer him, you remained silent and opened your book a tad violently to the page number listed on the board. A few surrounding Slytherins snickered at your obvious frustration, and this only served to give Taehyung the needed boost to annoy you even further.

“Fired up over your sorry excuse of a quidditch match-” he completely ignored the way you were daggers down at your book, “fiery red hair, brows nearly singed off from last week’s potion that blew up in your face-”

“I have no problem imagining your head is a bludger, Taehyung, and sending it flying over the astronomy tower,” you growled out.

Smirking, Taehyung leaned back in his seat, victorious. “Whatever you say, Fire.”

Just like that, the nickname stuck. Even your own friends seem to have forgotten how you acquired the name in the first place, almost using it in an endearing manner with you.

“Don’t know,” you admit, sighing in relief as the stairs finally click into place and the four of you are off yet again. “Ravenclaw looks pretty promising this year, but then again they do every year.”

What with your first week of school coming to an end, you feel rather proud of yourself for avoiding Taehyung like the plague. In your joint classes you completely ignore him, heading straight to your seat and not looking up until class has started.

Today you have no choice but to see him, though. He’ll be at the game no doubt. The entire school will.

Nobody ever misses a match between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Finally making it to the main hallway, you note the flurry of students heading toward the Great Hall. You continue on, catching snippets of other people’s conversations along the way. Most of the first and second year students look scared out of their wits, but you overhear something that has your head turning.

“But we haven’t hosted the Triwizard tournament since Harry Potter’s generation!”

The voice comes from your left, but Joslyn is already on it. Grabbing the attention of the younger Slytherin boy, she asks what’s on everybody’s mind.

“Yeonjun, what’re you going on about?”

Oh, so this must be Yeonjun. Joslyn’s new co-commentator for quidditch, the one she’d been complaining about the entire train ride to Hogwarts yesterday. You take a good, long look at the boy, who appears delighted to have information that the Gryffindors do not.

“My dad was making a big fuss over it all summer, you know, working for the Department of Magic and clearing international travel, it’s a whole mess-”

“Yah, cut to the point,” Joslyn urges. Yeonjun rolls his eyes, which makes you laugh.

These two are going to be quite the pair, commentating for quidditch. It’ll be a miracle if they don’t kill each other in the process.

“Didn’t you hear me? The Triwizard Tournament; it’s back. Hogwarts will be hosting it.”

Joslyn turns to face you, but you only shrug. “Whatever you say. Wish your precious snakes good luck, they’ll need it.” Turning to follow Jin and Jungkook to the locker rooms, you hear a voice that stops you in your tracks and turns your blood cold.

“How sweet of you to wish us luck,” Jimin says, drawing upon your little group quickly. His robes billow out behind him, making him look unnecessarily intimidating. “What are we talking about? Hopefully something that’ll provide more entertainment than your sorry excuse of a quidditch team, at any rate.”

You’re already scrunching up your nose in disgust when you feel Jin’s hand at your elbow. “C’mon,” he murmurs. “They just wanna make us late.”

They.

Sure enough, the rest of the Slytherin team isn’t far behind. But that’s not what has your eyes narrowing.

It’s Taehyung, popping up beside Jimin and slinging an arm around his friend. His usual smirk is present, and those dark eyes are on you.

As always.

“Excited to watch you play, Fire,” Taehyung croons. His voice is low enough that most people can’t hear it, but you certainly can. “Always a disappointment.”

Your first instinct is to throw something at that little smirk, but you take a deep breath and force yourself to remember your promise.

This year will be different.

Channeling the iciness you feel running through your veins into your eyes, you look Taehyung up and down. Slowly. You ignore Jimin’s chuckle or the way he elbows his friend, instead focusing on dragging your eyes back up his figure and staring into his eyes with utter indifference.

Then, mirroring his own smirk, you turn to Jimin. “See you on the pitch, Park.”

Without another word, you turn and follow after your teammates, hardly hearing the sound of Jimin’s teasing over the beat of your heart.

Not this year, Taehyung.

Not. This. Year.

--

“So that went well.”

Taehyung stares after your retreating figure, frozen in place from your earlier interaction. “Shut up, Jimin.”

Jimin is still beaming, delighted to see his friend so unhinged. “She really gets to you, doesn’t-”

“Don’t you have a game to get to?” Taehyung starts strolling away, shoving his hands into his pockets in an attempt to look unphased. When he hears Jimin’s boisterous laughter, he gives his friend a quizzical look over his shoulder. “What?”

Pointing at the direction Taehyung is walking, Jimin calls out, “Wrong way!”

Turning back around to see where he was headed, Taehyung realizes that he was following after you. Heading straight toward the Gryffindor locker room rather than outside with the rest of the spectators. Cheeks flushing bright red, Taehyung turns back around to see the entirety of the Slytherin quidditch team watching him, laughing.

Waving them off, Taehyung practically leaps into the crowd of people filing out the doors. He completely forgets Yoongi in the midst of his panic, not seeing the other boy who rolls his eyes and leaves Jimin who has yet to recover from his laughter.

Falling into line with the countless others clad in silver and green robes, Taehyung is lost in his thoughts as he climbs up to the stands. He ignores the cheers of Gryffindors that echo around the pitch as they wait for the match to begin, simply focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.

The wind catches him off-guard when he finally emerges at the top of the stands, whipping through his hair and making his eyes water. A few fellow Slytherins wave at him, which Taehyung returns but goes up to his typical spot. There’s an empty spot beside him which Yoongi will fill once he gets up here.

“Alright everybody, would ya sit down already? Pipe down, pipe down!” A clear voice cuts through the crowd and manages to silence even the unruly Gryffindors. It’s Joslyn, one of the commentators and your best friend.

“What my co-host meant to say-” Yeonjun begins, but Joslyn cuts him off.

“Oi, when I ask for a translation you can speak, otherwise keep your mouth shut and watch and learn.” A rumble of laughter graces the pitch, although Taehyung spots a few younger Slytherins looking annoyed that Joslyn interrupted Yeonjun like that.

“Do I even get to speak?”

Joslyn’s sigh is projected out to the spectators, and Taehyung can almost see her long-suffering expression from this side of the pitch. “Yes, Yeonjun. Go ahead and announce the starting lineup, you twat.”

Clearing his throat, Yeonjun begins to announce the starting lineup for Slytherin. With each name the crowd only gets louder and louder, although Taehyung is surprised to see the Gryffindor spectators remaining completely silent.

As Slytherin team stalks out onto the field, the cries only grow louder. Then, Yeonjun gets to the best part.

“And finally, your seventh year seeker, the man about to leave a legacy on the field…Park Jimin!”

Taehyung jumps to his feet with the rest of the crowd, yelling and screaming for his friend. He can’t help but feel a surge of pride for him, knowing just how hard Jimin has worked to be as talented as he is now.

“Alright, yeah, great. Welcome to the field, everyone. Now, let’s bring ‘em out!” Joslyn’s words have some sort of sway over the silent Gryffindors, because in an instant they’re on their feel and roaring. It’s enough to have even Taehyung blanching a bit, overwhelmed by the sheer volume.

His eyes betray him as the Gryffindor teams strolls out onto the field, as he instantly seeks you out. He’s unsure why he always does it; it must be a habit. It’s fairly easy to find you, your red hair acting as a beacon.

You’re beaming as Joslyn announces each player, hopping onto your broom for a complementary lap around the pitch. “Next up is one half of the star studded beater duo; you won’t want to get on the wrong side of that bludger now do ya, eh Jiminie?” Joslyn gloats from her viewpoint at the commentator’s station, but all Taehyung can see is how you maneuver your broom with ease, coming around to tap your bat against Jin’s and exchange some words that have him laughing.

“Make some noise for Fire!”

The crowd grows impossibly louder, which even has some Slytherins groaning. Taehyung bites back an amused smile, all too proud of the fact that the nickname he coined for you all those years ago has held strong. It’s his single victory over you, and one he’s not going to be letting go of anytime soon.

His eyes still trained on you as you throw your head back and laugh. You wave to the Gryffindors up in the stands like some celebrity, and Taehyung watches as they all wave back.

“That one’s a cocky little redhead,” someone remarks from the row in front of Taehyung. “Thinks just because she’s in with Seokjin and Jungkook that she can walk all over us.”

Someone else pipes up beside them, chuckling a little as they mockingly wave in your direction. “I’m willing to bet she begs Joslyn to talk her up at games.”

“Oh, without a doubt.”

Something stirs in the pit of Taehyung’s stomach, and he’s just about to lean forward and say something – anything – when he feels a light hand on his shoulder. Turning back, he sees Yoongi at his side, giving him a small shake of the head.

Right.

Can’t have Kim Taehyung standing up for his arch nemesis. People will think he’s gone mad.

           Judging from the way he can hardly rip his eyes away from you, he wonders if he went mad a long, long time ago.

           Joslyn has finished announcing Seokjin – the team captain and other beater – and Jungkook, the seeker. It’s finally time for the game to begin.

--

           “Everyone, gather round!” Jin yells, huddling up before the game begins. “Can everyone hear me?”

           You nod, even though the sound of everyone cheering is ringing in your ears. Emotions are running high for this match, it appears. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you lean forward on your broom to catch what Jin is saying.

           “Now, I can’t lie and say that this is going to be a walk in the park,” he looks each team member in the eye, his typically jovial expression suddenly solemn. “We’re going to have to push, hard. We can’t let up for a single second, or else Slytherin will find the chink in our armor and hit us hard and fast.”

           He looks across to you, and you can tell exactly what he’s thinking. Probably because it’s the same thing on your mind. Clearing your throat, you venture to speak up. “This game sets the tone for the entire season. Play like it’s your last.”

           And for you and Jin, this really is. Your final season, your final match against Slytherin.

           “Quick and clean guys,” Jin says. “Let’s show them what it means to wear red and gold.” Your teammates roar beside you, leaning in to cheer before dispersing to their proper positions. Jungkook zooms off to wherever he’s needed, and Jin hovers in front of you for a moment. He gives you a small smile that you instantly recognize as nostalgia.

           The two of you have spent countless hours on this pitch together, honing your skills to become the best beater duo since the Weasley twins took to the sky. Now, your time here is running out. Gently, you reach out and tap your bat against his.

“Let’s kill ‘em, Kim.” You smile at the sound of the crowd piping up again.

           Jin’s returning smile is almost frightening. “By all means, after you.”

--

           Chaos ensues. Taehyung watches from the stands, mouth agape as he watches each team maneuver their way to victory. He watches the way you and Jin work together in tandem, how you mercilessly attack the Slytherin chasers one bludger at a time.

           It’s terrifying.

           Taehyung has always known that you love to win. That’s been his source of entertainment through all these years being stuck in classes with you, watching you go above and beyond to beat him. You never do in Potions, but he hates to admit that you’ve got him beat in Transfiguration and Charms. However, as Taehyung watches how you clench your jaw and send a Slytherin chaser flying with a well-aimed bludger, he realizes the reason behind your competitive personality might not be because of you feel as though you must do the best you can for your house.

           No, Taehyung muses, smirking ever so slightly as you fly overhead, accidentally meeting his curious eyes as you zoom past. You’re not doing this solely for Gryffindor pride.

           You’ve got something to prove, don’t you?

           Indeed, as you lean forward on your broom, pushing it impossibly faster as you chase a wary Slytherin, Taehyung can see right through you.

           You’ll do anything to win. Now more than ever.

           Perhaps you should have been a Slytherin, after all. Smiling to himself, he tucks this newfound weakness away for safe keeping. He’ll find a way to use it to his advantage, he’s sure of it.

           “You look happy with yourself,” Yoongi mutters. Taehyung is surprised he can even hear him over the din of the crowd. Turning, he shrugs at his friend.

           “Just enjoying the game.”

           Yoongi snorts. “Right.”

           “What?”

           “Nothing. You’ve just got your scheming face on, that’s all.”

           Taehyung blinks, recomposing himself with a chuckle. “No scheming here, Yoongs.”

--

           Jimin ends up catching the snitch, however Gryffindor wins. In the end, his efforts aren’t enough to secure a victory against his biggest rivals.

           It’s enough to fill you with glee for the following weeks. Despite the tough season, you can’t help but recall the high you felt during that game. It’d been one of your best yet, nobody could argue that.

           The weeks carry on, and rumors of the Triwizard tournament continue to grow. You pay them no mind, getting lost in your daily routine. Which is as follows:

 Wake up early

 Grab food from the nearly empty Great Hall

 Sneak out to the pitch to practice flying

 Come back in time for class

 Ignore Kim Taehyung

 Ignore him some more

 Resent him for no reason other than being good at potions

And then the cycle begins again.

The only thing that throws you off is the drastic change to the quidditch schedule.

“What is this?” You call out one evening, marching into the Gryffindor common room with a piece of parchment in hand. “Have you seen this?”

Joslyn sits at one of the far tables, nose in her textbook. She doesn’t look up as you approach, scrambling to write something down first. “What happened now? Did Taehyung slip you a love note or something?”

“I- what, no!” You shudder at the thought, slamming the parchment down on the table for her to see. “The quidditch season! They’ve shortened it!”

    This finally has Joslyn looking up. “Whaddya mean they’ve shortened it; they can’t do that.”

“Well, apparently they already have!”

    She takes the parchment in hand, eyes growing wide as she sees that you’re telling the truth. “What the…why would they-” Joslyn gasps, looking up at you. “Do you think this means that the rumors are true?”

“What rumor- oooh.” Your eyes gloss over and Joslyn pulls out a seat for you, chuckling as you plop down a second later. “I mean…that would explain it.”

“That’s why they were starting quidditch so early this year.”

“Yeonjun’s dad complaining about international travel…”

“It’s a bit odd, though, isn’t it?” Joslyn mumbles, resting her chin on her hands. “That Hogwarts might be hosting it again after all these years.”

You sit back, staring out the window. Suddenly the quidditch season feels very small. “The last time they did was with Harry Potter, wasn’t it?” Joslyn nods. You take a long look around the common room that once held the world’s most famous wizard and his friends. Legends once sat where you sit, flew where you flew.

“I want…” you take a deep breath, voicing what you’ve kept buried deep down for so long. “I want to be great. I want to be like him.”

Joslyn chuckles, reaching out to pat your arm. “I’m afraid you lack the emotional baggage, dear.”

You force a laugh as well, knowing that it’s true. Of course you don’t want to go through the same pain he did, but is it too much to ask to be remembered for something?

           Maybe the Triwizard Tournament – the first since 1994 – will be the way to do it.

--

           As soon as the quidditch season ends, the rumors are confirmed.

           You’re too upset still about Ravenclaw winning the championship to act as excited as everyone else, but you can’t help but ooh and ah over the arrival of students from other schools. In fact, amidst your initial shock over the fact that this is actually happening and eyeing a couple of the Durmstrang boys, you nearly forget about Taehyung. For the first few days, you experience blissful reprieve from his sidelong stares and snarky remarks.

           Until today, that is.

           You’re just packing up and getting ready to leave your potions class when Taehyung sidles up beside you. Grinding your teeth, you continue packing up.

           “You know, I heard a rumor about you the other day.”

           His voice is silky soft, so different from the teasing manner he usually confronts you with. “What’s your angle now, Taehyung?” You ask, refusing to look at him as you start heading toward the door.

           Taehyung keeps up easily, rushing ahead of you to skip up the stairs. “Just curiosity. I want to see if it’s true, that’s all.”

           A few classmates look at the two of you with interest in their eyes, chattering amongst themselves. As you clear the stairs, you pass a huddle of Durmstrang boys. Elbowing Taehyung out of the way, you offer them your prettiest smile.

           “Well?” You ask, cheeks heating when one of the boys smiles back. His eyes follow you down the hallway, and you turn to see if Taehyung is still there.

           He is, just a couple of steps behind you. He’s stuck glaring at the Durmstrang boy, which makes you chuckle. Taehyung faces you again at the sound, eyes wide for a moment before he’s slipping back into his arrogant persona. If you blink, you’ll miss the change.

           “Is it true that you’re going to put your name into the Goblet of Fire?”

           You blink. Not that you’ve announced your intentions to the entire school, but who would pass up on the opportunity? “…why wouldn’t I?” Skirting around a gaggle of Beauxbatons, you don’t miss the way one brunette nudges her friend as Taehyung approaches. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but their pink cheeks and giggles say enough.

           “Ladies,” Taehyung greets, offering them a crooked smile.

           “Hello Tae,” the brunette croons. You raise your brows at the interaction, laughing to yourself as you pause beside the group. The girls observe you with open curiosity, and you wonder if any of the Hogwarts girls have befriended them. Perhaps they feel too insecure to do so, when they all look like models.

           Patting Taehyung’s shoulder, you offer them a sickly sweet smile. “He’s not worth it, trust me. But those guys,” you turn to point at the Durmstrang boys you smiled at earlier, “were actually just talking about how pretty you are.”

           The brunette goes to open her mouth, but Taehyung beats her to it. “That’s sweet Fire, but these are women. They want a man who looks past the surface. Isn’t that right, Adélie?”

           It would appear that the brunette’s name is Adélie, because she’s the one that answers. “Tae, I didn’t realize-”

           “You’re right, Tae,” you spit out his nickname, turning to face him completely now. He runs a hand through his hair, his crooked smile only growing. “They want a man, any ideas on where to find one?”

           Adélie clears her throat, but it’s lost on you as Taehyung laughs drily, stepping toward you. “You’re looking at one, sweetheart.”

           “Excusez-moi, but I think class is starting soon-”

           “Really? All I see is a boy playing dress-up.” You lift your chin up, looking directly into those dangerously dark eyes. Taehyung tilts his head, eyes boring into your soul.

           “Don’t lie, you see exactly what I want you to see.”

           “Is that so?” You mimic him, also tilting your head to one side. Your hair cascades around your shoulders at the movement, and you watch as Taehyung eyes track your every breath. “What, exactly, am I supposed to be seeing then?” The hallway is getting quieter, but you assume that’s because you’re so focused on Taehyung that you can’t focus on anything else.

           For a moment you watch his chest rise and fall. When you realize that you’re torn between shoving it and falling against it, you take a step back. Startled, you look up to see his eyes no longer on yours but glued to your mouth.

           “I-” the words get caught in his throat, refusing to cooperate. Taking a deep breath, he goes to try again.

           “Oi!” Both of you jump as a voice comes ringing down the hallway, and you turn to see your potions professor, Professor Davies walking your way. “What are you two doing? Aren’t you supposed to be in your next class?”

           Breaking out of your reverie, you look around the hallway to see it empty. Taking another step away from Taehyung, you scramble for an explanation. “I- uh,” you take a few steps back, scratching the back on your head. “We were just-”

           “We were just talking,” Taehyung mumbles from where he’s still frozen.

           Professor Davies blinks at you, eyes darting back and forth between you and Taehyung. He scratches at his beard, contemplating. “You two…talk?”

           “No!” You shout.

           “Yes,” Taehyung replies, frowning at you. “Er…sometimes. About potions.”

           This is even harder for your professor to believe. “About potions? I never took you for a potions fanatic, Fire.”

           “I’m her tutor, that’s why.”

           You go utterly still, staring at Taehyung like he’s grown a second head. The boy simply stares right back, daring you to refute his claim. When Professor Davies turns to you with a questioning gaze, you shrug your shoulders.  

“He’s annoying, but good at potions. And what with N.E.W.T.s this year…” you trail off, looking up at your professor with bated breath. The last thing you want is for points to be taken from Gryffindor because you were busy having an argument with Taehyung.

To your eternal horror, Professor Davies looks utterly delighted. Clapping his hands together, he strolls over to pat Taehyung on the back. “What a splendid idea!” He shouts, making Taehyung wince and you snicker. You pretend to not notice the glare he sends your way.

“You really think so?” You ask hesitantly. “It was really more of a oh I’ll help you with your notes kind of thing anyways, not super honest if you ask me, but hey, he wanted to help.”

“Is that true, Taehyung?” Professor Davies frowns at his star student. “That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

“No, it doesn’t, does it?” Taehyung’s eyes continue in their task of murdering you with a single look before he’s addressing the professor again. “We were actually just discussing what we could possibly do to take tutoring to the next level.”

Professor Davies grins, grabbing a bundle of keys from his pocket and jingling them in the air. “Mind if I make a few suggestions?”

--

“You what?” Joslyn nearly chokes on her dinner when you tell her the news. “Is this supposed to be some sort of joke?”

Groaning, you let your head fall into your hands. “No! I’m dead serious!”

It’s at this moment that Jin strolls in, eyes lingering on the Ravenclaw table until he nearly crashes into your own table. Laughing, you scoot over to make room for him. “Something caught your eye?”

Jin’s ears are a little red, but he’s quick to shake his head. “Er…no. No, not at all. Why, what’s going on?”

Joslyn beats you to the punch, leaning across the table to whisper excitedly, “Fire’s got a tutor for potions now, guess who it is?”

Jin looks at you with a half-smile before it slips into a look of horror. “No, don’t tell me it’s-”

“Taehyung!” Joslyn whisper-shrieks. “This idiot somehow managed to get herself roped into evening tutoring sessions with the man she hates the most, can you believe it?”

“Yah, be quiet!” You hiss, looking around defensively. When your eyes travel over to the Slytherin table, you’re relieved to see Taehyung lost in conversation with a worried-looking Jimin. Hopefully he’s got bigger worries on his mind than tutoring you tonight after dinner.

Professor Davies had gifted Taehyung with a copy to the classroom and storage closet key, looking giddy when he explained that we wouldn’t have to worry about cleaning up the workstation anymore. No, he’d gifted that riveting opportunity to you two.

“I take your education very seriously, Fire,” he’d said when he handed the key over to Taehyung. “I expect you to carry out at least three sessions a week, understood? I’ll be checking in on you to make sure you’re understanding the material properly.”

You had gulped at the prospect of being stuck in the dungeon classroom for three nights a week with the boy you’d been so desperately trying to avoid this year. “But sir, when are we supposed to have these sessions? We’re both busy, what with the Triwizard tournament and all-”

“Busy? I’m not busy. I’ve got all the time in the world,” Taehyung crooned, looking smug. Professor Davies smiled at his star pupil.

“You can spare an hour after dinner, can’t you?”

Glowering up at the professors that sit at the head of the Great Hall, you wonder what the consequences might be if you skip out on your first night of tutoring. The only thing you want to do is throw your name into the Goblet of Fire, sitting directly in front of the professor’s table.

Indeed, there are a few students that wander up to it throughout dinner, tossing their names in. Scattered applause meets them each time, a few loud cheers coming from the Slytherin table when Park Jimin throws his name in. To be honest, the boy looks sick to his stomach when he sits back down again, but you don’t give it much thought.

“Do you have any parchment?” You ask Joslyn, who shakes her head. “I need a quill. Jin?” Your met with another shake of the head. Sighing, you get up from the table and head toward the exit.

Most of the classrooms are locked by this time of night, but you’re sure you can find some parchment somewhere without having to go all the way back to the common room. Determined to submit your name tonight, you don’t hear footsteps behind you until an all too familiar voice calls out to you.

“Eager for our first lesson I see.”

Jaw clenching, you whip around to face Taehyung, stumbling back when you see how close he is. “AH!” You clutch your chest in an effort to calm your beating heart. “Why are you following me?!”

Taehyung chuckles, shifting on his feet. You notice that he’s not wearing his robes anymore, opting to fold them over his arm. You haven’t seen him very often in just his button down shirt and tie.

Perhaps that’s a good thing.

“Last I checked, we have a session tonight, don’t we?” Taehyung feigns offense. “Don’t tell me you already forgot.”

Practically spitting fire at him by now, you turn on your heel and resume your desperate search for parchment. “How could I possibly forget when you live to remind me?”

Taehyung’s deep laugh has no amusement in the sound, sending shivers down your spine. “You know, I think this is the most we’ve ever spoken in a single day.”

“Is it as horrible an experience for you as it is for me?” When it’s silent, you glance over your shoulder to see Taehyung already looking at you, just three steps behind. “No?”

“I would have used the word atrocious, but sure.”

Snorting, you try another classroom only to find it locked. “I wasn’t aware that your vocabulary stretched that far.” Pushing against the door, you take out your wand, deciding that unlocking it magically might be worth the consequences instead of continuing this mad search.

Taehyung reaches out, lowering your wand. “What are you doing?”

“Getting parchment so I can throw my name into the Goblet of Fire, what does it look like I’m doing?”

“Er…breaking into a classroom? When I literally have a key to one?” He pulls the key out of his pocket for effect, nodding back at the hallway. “Potions classroom is this way, darling.”

Offering him a saccharine smile, you make sure to step on his foot as you turn to walk down the hallway. “My hero.”

--

Taehyung doesn’t know what was going through his head when he claimed to be your potions tutor, but he certainly wasn’t expecting this to be the outcome.

Following you around like a lost puppy while you rush to the potions classroom, sighing when he takes too long to open the door. You head straight toward the workstation, ripping off a bit of parchment and dipping a quill in ink.

Taehyung watches as you carefully write out your name, a little surprised to see your actual name for once. He’s gotten so used to calling you Fire that he almost forgot your actual name.

“Ok!” You blow on the parchment, hoping to dry the ink faster. “Now-”

“Now we study,” Taehyung interjects. He crosses his arms, smirking at your confused expression.

“No, now I go submit my name for the Triwizard tournament!”

“Cute, but no.” He gestures to a desk at the front of the classroom. “Take a seat. Let’s begin.”

--

“You-”

“Watch your tone.” Taehyung traces the rim of the cauldron with one long, deft finger and arches a brow. “Now, shall we start again?”

You glare at the boy, red coloring your vision. Taehyung doesn’t waver under your gaze, simply waiting for you to begin again. This tutoring session has turned into an all-out verbal brawl.

Eventually, you glance at the clock on the wall and sigh. “It’s getting late,” you mumble, hoping to appeal to his softer side.

“Funny, I don’t recall asking for the time.”

Oh, right. He doesn’t have a softer side.

Rookie mistake.

“You...” you look around for something to throw at him, but realize that you’ll get into more trouble if you start throwing random objects at the Potions professor’s star student. Finally, you land on the sight of his green and silver tie. “You look hideous in green.”

Taehyung’s marble-like expression cracks as he gasps, shock written on his face. “Well you look horrible in red!”

You jump up from your seat, gathering up your books in a rush. “That’s it! I- I can’t stand you!” Nearly tripping over the desk behind you, you make for the door.

“Oh-ho, that’s rich coming from you,” Taehyung has also risen from his seat, and now rushes toward the door in order to block off your exit. “You think I wanted to get stuck down here, tutoring some arrogant Gryffindor that doesn’t even know how to brew a simple Sleeping Draught?”

You’re close to the door now, reaching for the knob just as Taehyung jumps in front of you and presses his back to the door. He’s panting, and you realize that you must be, too.

Black hair mussed, eyes wide as he stares down at you. His mouth is half-open, ready to come up with some stupid insult just to annoy you.

And there’s that stupid freckle on his nose that you can’t help but always notice.

“I am done, Taehyung. Done. What don’t you understand about that? I still have to put my name into the Goblet of Fire, I have homework from transfiguration to take care of-”

“I’ll do it.”

You blink, not quite sure you heard what you did. “You- what? No, I’m not asking for homework help, I’m leaving.”

Taehyung doesn’t budge, and it’s only now that it strikes you how much taller he is than you. You’ve only ever looked down on him before, glaring at him from your broom as he jeers in the stands.

“No, you’re not.” His voice has dropped, matching the dark interior of the dungeons. It draws you in, making you sway on your feet. “We finish the job, and then you can run away to your little tower.”

You take a single step back and watch as Taehyung steps forward, never letting you move out of reach. But he doesn’t touch you. No, despite the way his hands are fidgeting at his sides, he doesn’t reach out to you.

His eyes reflect what you see: an invisible line, drawn between the two of you for years now.

You- you want to cross it.

Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you take another step back and grin savagely when he mirrors your movement once more.

“We finish the job,” you parrot his words, “And then you can crawl back to your dungeon.”

The wooden edge of your desk presses into your back as you realize that you’ve retreated all the way back to where you began. Taehyung steps up closer, invading your space as he reaches behind your back.

He’s so close it’s suffocating, like his very presence sucks up all the air in the room. You need oxygen, and you’re afraid that the only way to get it is through him.

Taehyung produces the cauldron from where you’d left it on the desk, pressing it into your hands with a smug look.

“With pleasure.”

In the end, it takes you over an hour to brew the Sleeping Draught. You nearly knock the cauldron over at one point, feeling extra jumpy around Taehyung. He doesn’t say anything when you faulter, opting to reach out and steady the cauldron while keeping his eyes trained on the liquid inside. It’s clear he’s lost in his thoughts, sometimes not even hearing you when you ask a question.

By the time you’ve completed the task, you’ve nearly forgotten about the Goblet of Fire. The only thing on your mind is getting out of here as soon as possible. Keen on putting distance between you and Taehyung, you clean the workstation in record time, scurrying out the door as he holds it open for you. By the time you make it up the stairs, you can feel his eyes on your back. The sensation pushes you forward, only stopping when Taehyung calls your name.

“Aren’t you going to put your name in?”

Delving your hands into your pockets, you groan when you realize you must have left the parchment down in the classroom. “I’ll just have to grab it tomorrow,” you say, unwilling to go back into the classroom at this hour.

Taehyung holds up a finger, grabbing something in his pocket and holding it up in the air. “You were in such a rush, it’s no wonder you forgot this.” In his hand is your little strip of parchment with your name on it. He nods down the dark corridor, in the direction of the Great Hall. “Hurry up.”

The hallway is dimly lit, most everyone in their common rooms by this hour of the night. Even though Professor Davies has provided you with a signed paper to provide to any nosy prefects, you can’t help but sneak down the hallway as quietly as possible.

By the time you make it to the Great Hall, your shoulders slump in defeat. “It’s late, Taehyung,” you murmur. “It’s closed now. I’ll just do it in the morning.” Reaching for the parchment he still holds in his hands, you sigh in annoyance when he pulls away.

“Hang on a second, I doubt it’s locked.”

“Taehyung, I’m tired, and I still have to walk clear back to the common room.”

“We’re doing this tonight.”

You roll your eyes, padding after him. “We? Quit being such a brat, and-” your words fall flat when Taehyung presses against the doors and they swing open.

“See?” He looks back at you with a boyish grin. “Told you they wouldn’t be locked.”

The fire coming from the Goblet illuminates Taehyung’s smile, making you pause. His smile falters as you gawk, eventually falling as he grows confused.

“What?”

You shake your head, attempting to snap out of it. “Nothing.” Snatching the ripped parchment from his fingers, you march forward. “You’re just an idiot, that’s all.”

“So eloquent.”

Taehyung remains by the doors as you march toward the Goblet, heart beginning to pound. By the time you finally make it to the outer ring, you hesitate. For some reason, you look back over your shoulder, suddenly wishing you were doing this surrounded by your friends rather than an empty room.

Taehyung’s somber expression doesn’t change, but the way he offers you a little nod gives you all the encouragement you need to step into the ring.

You can feel the age wards passing over you, inspecting you. It’s enough to make you hold your breath, but when nothing happens, you take a shaky step forward. It’s followed by another and another, until you’re standing before the famed Goblet of Fire.

Taking a moment to think of all those who came before you, who put their names into the Goblet and were chosen, you smile.

It’s now or never.

Taking a deep breath, you rise on your tippy-toes and toss your name into the fire. You gasp as it glows blue, accepting the offering before settling back into its reddish hue.

Whirling around with a victorious smile, you jump out of the circle and speed back to Taehyung. He watches your every step, a contemplative look in his eye. When you come to a stop before him, he doesn’t speak. He only observes you for a moment before turning on his heel and disappearing into the hallway.

You follow after him, surprised when he doesn’t turn to head toward the Slytherin common room. Instead of questioning it, however, you simply fall into line beside him, allowing the silence of the castle to wrap around you.

The walk back to the Gryffindor common room is over in a flash, Taehyung never leaving your side as he walks with you through the dark castle. It’s strange, this silence. Almost companionable.

When you make it the final staircase before the portrait of the Fat Lady, Taehyung only goes halfway up the stairs before stopping. You carry on, somehow understanding that this is where his silent vigil ends. It’s only when you’ve whispered the password to the portrait and it swings open that you realize you haven’t said goodnight.

Turning around to bid Taehyung goodnight, the words die out when you see him.

He’s leaning up against the railing, robes still folded over his arm. You hadn’t noticed before, but his tie is loosened and his hair is a mess. He looks up at you with tired eyes, not moving.

Something stirs in your heart, nearly making you call out to him. He looks impossibly soft, so unlike the nuisance of a boy you’ve known all these years. Say something, you chide. Anything.

But instead you turn around, and head inside.

It isn’t until later, when you’re lying in bed staring up at the ceiling that you manage to breathe out the words you’d wanted to say. Joslyn’s soft snores fill up the room, but you turn on your side to stare out at the star-studded sky.

“Goodnight, Tae.”

--

The two of you fall into a pattern over the next few days. Annoyed banter after dinner, locked away in the potions classroom as you labor over different draughts and mixes. Veiled threats that morph into quiet walks back to the Gryffindor common room.

You’re growing to look forward to your study sessions with him when you realize that tonight won’t be like the other nights. Tonight, the Triwizard champions will be decided.

The Great Hall is packed to the brim with students, and despite Joslyn whispering something to you, you can’t quite focus. Your eyes are on the Goblet of Fire, silently pleading with it.

��Are you even listening to me?”

You blink, tearing your gaze away long enough to catch sight of Joslyn’s amused expression. “Erm…yes?”

“Well then, what did I just say to you?”

Your cheeks flush pink, and you chuckle nervously. “Oh, uh…”

“Just as I thought. Pay attention!” Flicking your forehead, Joslyn laughs at your wounded expression. “I’m talking to you about the Yule ball, you idiot!”

“The Yule…”

“Who do you hope asks you?”

Blanching, you fumble for an answer. “Uh, how about…I don’t know there’s that cute Ravenclaw…”

Joslyn arches a brow. “Namjoon? The dude’s about as coordinated as a mermaid on land. That’s who you want to take you to the Yule ball? Where there’s dancing?”

“I don’t know! I was under pressure, so I said the first name that came to mind!”

Just as Joslyn goes to interrogate you further, the headmaster rises. “Settle down, settle down!” Everyone falls silent, eager to see who will be selected. “The Goblet of Fire is ready.”

It’s a wonder you don’t pass out from holding your breath for so long. Everyone gasps as the Goblet spits out a name, the headmaster taking it into his hand and looking across at the Beauxbatons. “From the Beauxbatons…Adélie Dupont!”

A few moment later another name pops out, the paper a deep red. “For Durmstrang…Alexi Kraft!”

A heavy silence falls over the Great Hall as the Goblet smokes and then spits out the final name. Your heart pounds, leaning on the edge of your seat as you pray for your name to be called. People start whispering as the headmaster looks down at the name, eyebrows raising in surprise. They’re whispering is so loud, competing with the sound of your beating heart, you can hardly hear-

The room erupts into cheers, and you’re rising from your seat with everyone else, grabbing onto Joslyn. “Who did it pick? Who was it?” You ask her frantically. “I didn’t hear, who-”

Your eyes follow to where Joslyn points, and you watch with a sinking feeling as a Hufflepuff girl makes her way to the front. You’re in a daze, plopping back down on the bench.

There’s some commotion, some laughter. Someone says something about Jimin making a fool of himself, going after the Hufflepuff girl, but you’re too dazed to make sense of it. Instead you sit and stare at your shoes.

The feeling you’d been chasing – glory, accomplishment, doing something worthwhile – slips through your fingertips.

Time passes like molasses, and all you can do is sit there frozen with disappointment. Joslyn tries to get your attention, but you just wave her off, mumbling something about getting up in a second. You’re aware of chatter around you, and the Great Hall slowly emptying, but all you do is sit there and wonder what to do now.

Someone crouches down before you, one large hand wrapping around your ankle. Your eyes land on a freckle on the tip of their nose, and you blink a few times to ascertain that you’re really seeing what you’re seeing.

“It’s time to go,” Taehyung says in a voice so gentle you can hardly recognize it. He tilts his head so he can meet your eyes, and you see a lopsided smile on his face that looks so soft you want to cry.

“But I don’t wanna do potions,” you mumble. Taehyung’s little smile grows at the sound of your complaining.

“C’mon, Fire. Indulge me.”

You wonder if you look as miserable as you feel. Surely you must look a sight, to have Kim Taehyung crouched down before you like you’re some sort of five year old. A wave of shame washes over you, have you really been sitting here sulking all night? You should have been cheering for the Hufflepuff girl, when in reality you’ve been in denial.

Taking a deep breath, you allow Taehyung to pull you to your feet. His look of pride has you chewing on the inside of your cheek, but you let him lead you out of the Great Hall. He stands behind you, gently pushing you forward with quiet strength. A few students linger behind, each of them staring at the two of you with amazement. No doubt there will be rumors spreading like wildfire in the morning.

Taehyung walks you to the potions classroom, unlocking the door and quietly ushering you in. Once inside, he rids himself of his robes and sets to work rolling his sleeves up. You watch the flick of his wrists, wondering if you’re living out every teenage witch’s dream in this very moment. Alone in the dungeon classroom with Kim Taehyung, who has his undivided attention set solely on you.

You’re about to make some snarky remark about it when Taehyung looks your way, his hair falling into his eyes. Just like that, you’re transported back to third year. Losing to Slytherin in quidditch, and Taehyung watching you as you failed. Deriving amusement out of your shame, sending you spiraling into a desire to prove yourself ever since.

Here you are, four years later. There’s nothing left to prove. No more chances to make a name for yourself outside of the one Taehyung coined for you.

He’s there, for every failure.

The fact that you’re never going to win settles over you, sinking into your bones until you’re drowning with it. As Taehyung opens his mouth to say something to you, all you can hear is the sound of the students in the Great Hall cheering for a Triwizard champion that isn’t you.

--

“You’ll probably want to take those off,” Taehyung motions at your robes. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, and I wouldn’t want your robes to get ruined.”

He’s surprised when you numbly you obey him, draping your robes over the nearest table. Once he notes that you’re ready to go, Taehyung lists off a few ingredients for you to grab. Again, you do so wordlessly.

Rather than sit there and watch you moving about the classroom, he decides to busy himself with pulling up the correct ingredient instructions and setting up the worktable. His mind is busy going twenty different directions; mainly thinking about the consequences of his actions should he be found out.

“Ready?” He asks when you reappear at his side, laying down the ingredients. You nod, still not saying a word. Ignoring the pang of worry that cuts through him, Taehyung nudges you with his elbow and musters his best annoying smirk. “What, you’re not even going to cuss me out for not telling you what we’re up to?”

Shrugging, you fiddle with the front of your sweater. “Just tell me.”

Grabbing the book and placing it in front of your nose, Taehyung waits for your eyes to focus in on the name of the potion before speaking. “Felix Felicis. Also known as ‘Liquid Luck’. Have you heard of it?”

Your eyes widen in recognition, and for a moment the disappointed expression on your face is replaced with confusion. “Isn’t that like, illegal to brew?”

“Illegal is a strong word. Try…discouraged.” Your dry laugh gives Taehyung a bit of extra hope. “So, to begin, we’ll need to add Ashwinder egg and horseradish to the cauldron, putting it on low.”

“Taehyung.”

“You remember how to put the cauldron on low heat, right? It’s just a simple incendio spell-”

“Taehyung, I don’t think…”

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” He knows he’s rambling, but he can’t help it. He can’t stop it when you’re looking like that. He just wants to make it better. “While you take care of that, I’ll get the squill bulb and juice it. See here, it says to stir vigorously, so be prepared for that as soon as I get the bulb juiced, alright?”

“Taehyung!” You take the book from him, forcing him to look at you. Your eyes are wide, and to Taehyung’s horror, they’re filling up with tears. “Stop it!”

He opens his mouth only to close it again, resembling a fish out of water. “I- I just want to help-”

“There’s nothing left to help!” You shout, making him wince. “I missed my chance, alright? I don’t want your pity, so stop looking at me like that!”

“Pity? You think this is pity?” Taehyung rubs his hands over his face, wondering if this is all just a bad dream. “I don’t pity you, Fire, I just want to make it better!”

The hurt from earlier turns to anger as you laugh. There’s no warmth in the sound, and for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, Taehyung feels a chill in the dungeons. “A bottle of luck isn’t going to make everything ok again! Why are we even keeping up this façade anymore? It’s not like anybody’s watching! Just- just leave me alone!” Your voice breaks, sending Taehyung into a whirlwind of emotions. He can see you on the other side, but he can’t quite reach you, no matter how hard he tries.

Why can’t he just pull you into his arms?

“Fire,” he begins softly, as though speaking to a wounded animal. “Just tell me what’s going on. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s broken, right?”

“Why.”

Taehyung blinks, taken aback by your icy tone. “Why, what?”

Despite being taller than you, Taehyung suddenly feels very small as you glare up at him. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Sucking in a sharp breath, you snarl, “What do you even want from me, Taehyung?”

Those final words echo through his head like a gong. What do you even want from me? He’s stunned into silence as he sees a tear slip down your cheeks, followed quickly by another.

“Fire, I…wait, where are you going?”

You’re already marching toward the door, practically ripping in off its hinges in the process. “Out.”

“Wait, we just need a second to breathe, come back-”

Turning on your heel, Taehyung watches as your knuckles turn white clutching the edge of the door. Your voice trembles as you try to contain yourself long enough to speak.

“I can’t win, Tae.” The nickname makes him stumble forward, his body begging him to close the distance between you two. “We lost the quidditch season. My n-name didn’t get pulled out of the Goblet. My friends are talented – I mean, look at Jungkook! One of the best seekers Hogwarts has seen in a long time. And then Jin just had to be captain and Head Boy at the same time, because he’s good at everything he does. Everyone loves Joslyn, I swear she even has that Yeonjun kid half in love with her.”

He’s moving closer now, coming to a stop before you. His hand reaches out to rest atop yours against the door frame. Despite the circumstances, Taehyung can’t help but feel a bolt of electricity as he feels your warm hand under his.

“A-and then you’re this potions genius that has half the school swooning and the other half envying you. But no matter what I do,” you wipe away your tears angrily, huffing when pushes your hand away to gently wipe the tears on his own. As you look up at him with you wide, teary eyes, Taehyung knows the picture of you will be burned into his memory for a long time to come.

“No matter what I do,” you repeat, quieter this time. Almost like the fight has gone out of you. “You’re always there to see me fail.”

When you pull you hand out from under his, Taehyung knows he lost. He reaches out to you, but you’ve already retreated back a few steps. “Fire, you’re not a failure.” You’ve turned around now, already halfway up the stairs. Why can’t he move?

“Fire, please don’t leave. I know I’m an idiot, can’t we agree on that and move past this?”

But you’re already gone.

--

You don’t speak to Kim Taehyung after that, and he doesn’t speak to you. Students whisper amongst themselves in your shared potions class when you walk in, but you pay them no mind. Instead, you throw yourself into your studies.

Your short time with Taehyung’s tutoring sessions prove to be quite helpful when papers and exams pop up. You suppose you should thank him, but your throat closes up every time you see him.

Weeks pass, and the first trial approaches. People buzz with the ideas of what it may be, but you don’t participate in the gossip. You’re not sure if you’ve ever spent so much time in the library before, nose shoved into some random book. You don’t even notice one evening when a certain Slytherin approaches your table in the library, dropping off a set of Gryffindor robes and walking away before you’ve even looked up.

You turn just in time to see familiar black curly hair rounding a corner before turning back to the robes. You realize that they must be the set you left behind that night of your argument. Funny, it’s been weeks, but you hadn’t noticed that they’d gone missing.

Later that night, when you make it back to your room, you throw the robes onto your bed only for a slip of paper to flutter out. Double checking that Joslyn is asleep, you grab it and read what it says.

For the days you feel down on your luck.

-       KTH

Eyes widening, you feel along the inside of the robes, holding your breath. When you come across something small and hard, you pause. Then, you pull out the small vial with transparent, silvery liquid.

Felix Felicis.

“So he brewed it after all,” you mumble. Joslyn stirs in her bed at the sound of your voice, but by the time she opens her eyes, you’ve hidden the vial in your nightstand drawer.

“Fire? You going to bed?”

“Yeah, Jos. Goodnight.”

She smiles sleepily at you. “Night.”

--

The first trial passes. You went to it, enjoying it just as much as everyone else. It was a pleasant surprise to see the Hufflepuff girl win, retrieving the golden egg from her dragon the fastest. However, as the weeks progressed, you began to wish you could face a dragon rather than what lay before you.

The Yule Ball.

Hogwarts was alight with giddy teenagers, each of them dying for someone to ask them to the dance. You keep your head down as you hurry through the halls, simultaneously hoping that you’ll blend in with the wall and wishing that someone might ask you to the ball.

Joslyn is nearly bouncing off the walls when she comes to dinner the night before the ball, whispering to you about how Yeonjun asked her to the dance.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” you choke out, glancing sidelong at the Slytherin boy who chatters animatedly with his friends.

“Neither was I! But I can’t wait. I’ve been wanting to go out with him all year.”

This takes you by complete surprise. “Y-you have? I thought you hated him!”

Joslyn smirks at you, nudging your side. “It’s a thin line between love and hate, you know.”

Eyes still trained on the Slytherin table, you find yourself looking for the dark-haired boy that so often occupies your thoughts. “Huh.” He’s not there, which shouldn’t bother you, but it does. “Do you really think so?”

--

The day of the Yule ball is a flurry of silks and glass, people rushing to and fro with last minute preparations. You help Joslyn get ready, her smile contagious when she looks at herself in the mirror.

“You sure you don’t want to come? You don’t have to have a date, you know. Plenty of people are going stag.”

In reality, you want nothing more than to go to the dance. But you hide your frown, shrugging instead. “Gotta study for N.E.W.T.s anyways. Just let me know how it goes, alright?”

Joslyn studies your features for a moment before leaning in to give you a hug. “I’ll be there for you if you decide to come, alright? I mean, if I were you I wouldn’t want to miss it. Word on the street is Beomgyu asked the Beauxbatons champion to the ball. What a pair.”

You can’t help but laugh at the idea, appalled that Adélie went from Taehyung to 4th year Beomgyu. Of course, she probably wanted nothing to do with Taehyung after your scene in the hallway all those months ago.

“Maybe I’ll pop in later,” you supply. Joslyn grins, snapping her fingers as she remembers something.

“Oh! Just in case you do decide to go…” she produces a silver dress, holding it up for you to see. “I think this would suit you.”

Mouth agape, you reach out to run your fingertips along the shining fabric. It’s soft to the touch, shimmering like the night sky. “It’s…it’s beautiful.”

“See?” Joslyn hangs it up on the post of your bed. “Perfect for you.”

--

You stare at the dress for what feels like hours, until you recall what you have in your nightstand drawer. Grabbing the Felix Felicis out, you hold it up to the light.

You could drink it. Don the beautiful gown and waltz down to the ball, maybe steal the show. Nobody would know that you were actually under the effects of the powerful potion. Maybe you’d manage to catch the eye of a Durmstrang boy.

Or better yet, you might manage to steal Taehyung away from his date.

Not that you know he’s there. You just assume he is, since almost every other 7th year is. No doubt he’s got a beautiful Beauxbatons girl on his arm, looking up at him with doe-like eyes.

The thought of it has been driving you mad for weeks, but you bury it down. You have no right to him. Whatever you had going on during the beginning of the year is over.

And yet…the memory of Taehyung silently walking you back to the common room all those nights is enough to make you ache with the thought of what could have been. A second later, you’re pulling the dress from off the hanger.

Twenty minutes later, you’re completely ready to go, long red hair curled to perfection. The only thought on your mind is the Felix Felicis you have in your hand and the boy who brewed it.

--

Taehyung loosens the tie around his neck and pops open the top button of his collar, sighing in relief when cool air soothes his skin. He closes his eyes for a moment, letting the distant sounds of the Yule ball carry him away.

It’s a beautiful winter night. The sky is clear, and the lake is still, proving to be the perfect canvas for the night sky. That’s what Taehyung focuses on, breathing in deep.

He’d gone to the Yule ball alone, hoping against hope that you’d do the same. But you never showed, leaving him lingering by the doorway as the ball carried on. Sure, a few girls wandered up to him and he was half tempted to give in to their requests for a dance, but he couldn’t leave his post in fear of missing you. So he turned them away, wondering to himself why he was waiting for you when you clearly wanted nothing to do with him.

Eventually, he knew he had to call it a night. Feeling extra sorry for himself as he spied his friends enjoying their evening, Taehyung’s feet carried him away until he found himself at the lake.

It’s cold enough now to make him head back inside, but he freezes when he hears a branch break behind him.

“Oh.”

Whirling around, Taehyung finds himself face to face with an angel.

The moonlight bounces off your silver dress, making you glow as you look at him with wide eyes. You hold something in your hands, but your fist is closed around it so he can’t tell what it is.

“You made me Felix Felicis.” It’s not a question, more of an accusation. Taehyung winces, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m not interested in another argument, if that’s what you’re here for.”

You shake your head, prowling forward. He has half a mind to get out of your way, but you come to a stop before him, eyebrows furrowed as you repeat the statement. “You gave me liquid luck.”

“…I did.”

“And pressed my robes before returning them.”

He blinks; he didn’t think you’d notice. “Yes.”

“A-and you walked me back to the common room after every session.”

Taehyung opens his mouth and closes it again, unsure of what he’s supposed to do in this situation. He still wants to reach out and touch you, even though he knows he’ll be burned. “Of course I did,” he says quietly.

You jab a finger in his chest, making him sway back on his feet. “You…you didn’t go to the ball.”

“No. I couldn’t.” Slowly, he flattens your hand against his chest. “You know I couldn’t.”

--

You can feel Taehyung’s racing heart as he flattens your hand against his chest. “You know I couldn’t,” he confesses.

You didn’t mean to end up here. No, you had marched straight to the Yule ball, determined to take a swig of the potion and try your luck. However, as you held the vial in your hands, you couldn’t help but feel that you needed to be rid of Kim Taehyung once and for all.

So you went where you thought you should: to the lake. Determined to throw the liquid luck deep inside, never to be seen again. It was too much of a temptation for you, and it was a reminder of the boy that broke your heart before you even realized he had it.

When you saw him standing before the lake, you wanted to cry. Then you wanted to scream.

Now, you just want.

“Don’t say that,” you order. “Quit trying to confuse me.”

Taehyung doesn’t smirk like you expected him to, instead he’s venturing a step closer until he’s towering over you. The moonlight filters through his hair, giving him an almost otherworldly appearance.

“Are you really that dense?”

You gasp, trying to pull back from him in vain as his free hand grabs your arm, keeping you locked in close. “I am not dense-”

“I have loathed you since I first laid eyes on you,” Taehyung seethes, his gentle demeanor is replaced by fiery anger. “Nobody has ever made me sicker or more frustrated than you. You truly have a talent for pissing people off, did you know that?”

“Likewise.”

His eyes glint at your response. “I don’t know why I did any of those things,” he hisses. “You’ve never done anything for me, hardly ever acknowledge my existence unless it’s to tear me down, and yet I can’t stand being apart from you.” He’s panting now, a wild, desperate look in his eyes that you’re sure you reflect.

He so achingly close, you hate yourself for leaning closer. He does the same, his body warmth seeping into you as he maintains his grip.

“You’re stubborn, selfish, and oblivious. I hate how you have to win at everything, and the way you never believe anything I say to you. I hate how you keep me awake at night when you’re fast asleep without a care in the world,” Taehyung’s words sear through you, and you grab onto his arm to keep your balance. “You never leave my head, just get out of my head for once in your life, Fire, leave me alone!”

His words echo across the lake, too loud for this quiet night. Staring up into his eyes, you see the invisible line you’ve never dared to cross.

There’s too many things you need to say, too many things you need to scream at him. But the only thing that comes out is, “Yeah, well, I hate you, too.”

Shock crosses his features before a crooked grin etches its way onto Taehyung’s face. You can’t help but trace his smile with the tip of your finger. He holds his breath as you do so, blissfully unaware that you can feel his heart thundering against his chest. When you drop your hand from his face, he immediately leans forward, lips mere centimeters from yours.

His eyes are still on yours, that familiar gaze deep enough to swim in. When you feel his hands coming around to trail down the line of your jaw, you let out a shuddery breath.

“Taehyung,” you utter.

He closes his eyes at the sound of his name on your lips. He’s never heard it spoken so gently before, it’s enough to make him want to crumple to the ground. When he finally opens his eyes again, they’re swimming with emotion.

“Please.”

He sounds broken as the word leaves his mouth, but you know what he’s asking for. With one final look into his eyes, you close the distance.

The second your lips meet, Taehyung’s arms encircle you in his grasp and pull you impossibly closer. The kiss is messy and hurried, quickly becoming a battle that has no stakes. Your hands run through his hair and down his chest, frantically touching him after seven years of keeping your distance. Taehyung gasps into your mouth when you pull in his hair, pulling away long enough to breathe and see for himself that this is really happening.

His wet lips and mussed hair are enough to make you weak, accidentally stepping back. He doesn’t let you get far, though, scooping you up and holding you against him. “Again,” he quietly demands, and you give in, lips meeting his with renewed vigor.

Eventually his kisses turn deeper, softer. Sounds begin to filter in, the distant music lighting on your ears as Taehyung plants wet kisses along the bottom of your jaw. “Taehyung,” you whisper. He grunts against your skin in response, making you chuckle. “I just realized something.”

He pulls away, eyes half-closed as he plants a tender kiss on the corner of you mouth. “What might that be?”

“The Felix Felicis, it worked.”

Taehyung stills, fear crossing his expression. “It…wait, you…you drank it? Today? So this…?” He steps away from you as though scalded. “You didn’t really mean to come here and talk to me, it was the stupid potion-” His ranting is cut off by the sound of your laughter, and he turns to you, offended. “This isn’t funny!”

Waving him off, you pull the vial out of the little clutch you dropped it in earlier. “Look, you idiot. I didn’t drink it.” You watch as Taehyung’s shoulders deflate, and step forward to wrap your arms around his middle. Your cheeks heat as he immediately plants a kiss atop your head. “I was going to drink it, but then I realized it wasn’t a good idea. So I came to the lake to throw it in.”

“To throw it- are you kidding me?!” Taehyung’s voice is shrill now, and he pulls away to look at you with wild eyes. “I spent three weeks perfecting that thing, and you were going to throw it in the lake?!”

“But Tae-”

“That’s it, I take it all back. Give me the potion, since you clearly can’t be trusted with it.”

“Taehyung!” You grip the boy’s chin, glaring up at him. “I’m telling you it worked! It led me straight here to you, didn’t it? You’re it. You’re my luck.”

Taehyung blinks, processing his words. Under the pale moonlight, his flushed cheeks turn an even deeper shade of pink. “Oh.”

You also grow embarrassed as he looks at you adoringly. “Er, yeah.”

He grows bolder now. “Aw, I’m your luck? That’s adorable, Fire.”

“Don’t make me chuck this in the lake.”

Taking matters into his own hands, Taehyung wrestles the potion from your grip. Despite your protests, he pops the lid open.

“Wait!” You shout. “What are you doing? We could get in serious trouble-”

“We’ll half it,” Taehyung explains, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “I’m feeling lucky tonight, anyways.” Without another word, he downs half the vile, wincing as he smacks his lips. “There! Now you drink.”

He brings the vial to your lips, the action feeling unnecessarily intimate. Slowly, you drink the rest of the liquid. A tingling feeling covers your entire body, making you shiver. Suddenly feeling giddy, you grin up at Taehyung. He grins back, looking nothing short of a maniac.

“Are you cold? Let’s head back inside, crash this party. Who knows, maybe something amazing will happen.”

You do just that, walking back into the Yule ball hand in hand. A few students nearly trip when they see you two, but you pay them no mind. Taehyung leads you to the center of the dance floor, taking you in his arms and beginning to sway.

Nothing special happens. It’s just the two of you, dancing under the faerie lights until the last student has returned to their common room. When the music ends for the night, Taehyung picks up a tune, humming it to you.

The next morning, when students were gossiping about the Gryffindor and Slytherin rivalry that had shown up in style at the Yule ball, you realized that maybe the potion did work after all. What luck, to end up together.

Grinning at Taehyung from across the Great Hall at breakfast, you shrugged off people’s questions and opted for a healthy serving of scrambled eggs. You hummed a happy tune to yourself, listening to Joslyn give her report about her date with Yeonjun.

A few moments later the owls flew in with their daily mail, and you were surprised to receive a letter yourself. Frowning, you ripped open the envelope to see a small strip of parchment inside.

Groaning, you threw the parchment down. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Joslyn quickly picked it up and read it aloud.

Potions classroom, 8:30 pm. Don’t be late.

-       Tae-tutor

all rights reserved © alpacaparkaseok

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thank you guys so much for reading! sorry I got this out a little later than planned...idk why I’m still awake lol. but PLS let me know your thoughts! If you thought this was decent, that’s always nice to know. I’ve been staring at this thing for too long now, honestly it could be trash and I wouldn’t know lol. thanks for your love and support!!! hope you’re having a lovely day!

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

scopaesthesia 👁️ chapter 4

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, death, murder, violence, stalking, paranoia, blood, gore, and other warnings to be added

This is dark!Bucky Barnes with a likelihood off dark!Steve Rogers as well and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Not everything is what it seems.

Note: I’m getting this chapter out before I’m clogged up with work. Y’all take care of yourselves and I hope you have a Happy Halloween.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Despite your agitation, your isolation slowly reinstilled a sense of stability in you. Even if you were trapped, even if you had little choice in being there, the cabin with the bullet proof windows and advanced security system calmed your wearing nerves. And without a phone, you could not be reminded of, or harassed by the faceless villain who had turned your life on its head.

The first day dragged by as you spent hours pacing in your room and tossing and turning on the mattress. Sure, you were annoyed with Bucky and his demands, his often mercurial moods, but you recalled Steve’s words and they abated your irritation. You could still be in your apartment, still be entirely clueless to your shadowy stalker, still be a sitting duck swimming through dark waters. But you were safe with two super soldiers, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.

Steve brought you a pre-packaged meal and you ate alone at the desk after trading him for your grocery list. 

You stared out the window at the shedding trees and the frozen ground, the critters gathering what they could for their nests and burrows. The preserved potatoes were powdery and stuck to your tongue; the gravy lumpy and bland. You tossed the tray in the bin under the desk and rolled yourself in your covers.

That nail in your skull hadn’t quite relented yet and the knot in your stomach only wound tighter. You were still tender between your legs but the levee had yet to break. You laid awake through the night but for the few hours before sunrise. You awoke with stiff muscles and a heavy head. No longer a sharp pain at the top but a dull pulsing just above your neck.

You went back to the desk, wrapped in the quilt formerly folded over the end of the bed and slid open the drawer. You stirred through the hotel quality contents; cheap pens, a notepad, and a handful of mints. Odd but you supposed you weren’t the first occupants of the safe house.

You took out a blue pen and the pad of paper. You looked out the window and etched in ink the scene on the other side of the glass. You weren’t particularly skilled but the points of the tall pines and the sprawling arms of the walnut tree were simple enough. Little scribbles to show the twigs and pinecones at their feet. You blindly scratched the nib against the thin paper until you heard a knock at your door.

“You awake?” Bucky’s voice came clear through the door.

You put the pen down and cloaked yourself once more in the quilt as you stood. “Yeah,” you called back as you leaned against the edge of the desk. “What is it?”

Bucky carefully turned the handle and opened the door. He wore his high collared jacket with its chest pockets and two more lower down. His leather-sheathed knife hung from his belt, its tip poking out from beneath his coat, and he twisted a pair of gloves in his hands. He let the door fall completely open and lingered in the frame.

“I’m going into town. Steve will be here.” He said as his blue eyes bore into you. “You okay?”

You shrugged and pulled the blanket tighter around you. 

“You want me to turn the heat up?” He asked. You didn’t answer. “Look, I’m sorry about last night. About being so blunt but you have to understand, you panicking isn’t helping anyone.”

“Why wouldn’t you at least tell me about something like that? About the drawings?” You snapped. “I have a right to know.”

He sniffed and let out a long breath. “You really don’t want to know everything. Alright. I was just coming to make sure your list was final. Anything I need to add?”

“Just sweeping it aside? Just like that?”

“Honey, you don’t need to worry about this creep. Me and Steve will. You just need to be patient,” He neared you with decisive steps, “And listen to us. We’re your lifeline, it’s about time you start using it.”

“Don’t.” You huffed. “Don’t call me ‘honey’.”

He tilted his head and his eyes sparked. His lips curved slightly as he considered you.

“Sorry,” he said rigidly. “I guess… I didn’t realise I was doing that.”

You watched him as he pulled on his gloves and bent his fingers, flexing his hands as he pushed his shoulders back.

“So, I don’t need to grab anything else while I’m out?” He prodded. “You got enough clothes--”

“Yeah,” you said sharply, “I should be fine. I’d say that list is the least of my worries.”

He smiled and scoffed. “Alright, h-- You need anything, you let Steve know. He’s downstairs trying to figure out breakfast.”

You nodded as he stared at you. He rubbed his hands together and backed away. He turned and stopped at the door.

“If you really want the truth,” he looked over his shoulder, “He killed again. Two girls in as many nights…” He shook his head and tutted. “He seems pretty desperate. It’s a good thing you’re here. With us.” He stepped out into the hall and you barely heard his last word. “Safe.”

👁️

You found Steve in the kitchen grimacing at a bag of oats. His hair was slightly askew and he wore a sweatshirt which would be loose on any other man but clung to his broad chest and thick arms. His blue eyes bore a semblance of fatigue and he looked up as you neared the other side of the long walnut island.

“There’s coffee,” he smiled. “Do you like oatmeal?”

“It will do,” you climbed up on a stool and bent your arms over the counter. “Bucky gone?”

“Yeah,” Steve set down the bag and turned to the cupboard. He pulled out a metal mug in the military style and filled it with coffee from the pot. He slid it over to you. “You like sugar? Cream? Because we have neither.”

“I’m fine,” you chuckled. “So… is this something you do a lot?”

“What? Make coffee?” He asked as he bent and searched the cupboards.

“No, whatever it is we’re doing here. Hiding?”

“I’ve been sent on protective missions before,” he stood and clunked a pot on the counter. “Can’t say it’s ever been this… intense. Usually political,” he opened the bag of oats and poured them into the pot, “Escort from point A to B. Nothing overly complicated.”

“So why exactly has S.H.I.E.L.D. taken the lead and not the FBI?” 

He looked at you and raised his brows. He turned to add water to the pot and placed it on the stove. He turned the dial and spun back to you.

“If I tell you, you can’t let on to Bucky that you know.” He warned as he neared the island. “I mean it. I really shouldn’t. He’s right, you know? The less you know, the better.”

“Tell me. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” You urged. “Please.”

He sighed and pushed back his blonde hair. His short stubble caught the light as he dropped his arms.

“We have reason, strong reason, to believe that this… guy has ties to an association known as HYDRA. An organization which has been working to undermine democratic peace for decades.” Steve lowered his voice as he leaned across the countertop. “The hotel room that was… an unexpected and uncharacteristic slip-up. Before, he was stealthy, smart, we were barely able to string it all together. He was all over the city. But… I’m starting to think that it’s all deliberate on his part. He wants to distract us with the overwhelming evidence so that we make a real mistake.”

“But why-- Why would an operative want anything to do with me?”

“Oh, well, we don’t think he’s with HYDRA anymore and that makes him even more dangerous. He’s taken everything they taught him, all the evil they instilled in him, and now he’s working for his own agenda.” 

Steve searched your face, “Why he chose you; who knows? Maybe you said ‘hi’ to him and he liked the way it sounded or maybe it’s entirely at random. The FBI handed this case over because they can’t figure him out and I gotta be honest, we’re not any closer than they were. The only upper hand we have is that Bucky saw him. That’s it. We don’t have a name or anything else. Just a face and there are an awful lot of those in New York.”

You trembled and ran your fingertips down your cheeks. You gulped as you sat up and your eyes threatened to well.

“Thanks for telling me.” You whispered.

“Right, but I need a favour in return.” He said.

“What?”

“Stop snooping around. We’re all stuck in here for a while. It doesn’t help anyone, especially not Bucky. He’s just trying to do his job and he’s already had to call in back-up. He’s feeling beat up right now.” Steve explained. “Besides, you really can’t give him a hard time after he got all bloodied up for you.”

“I… I’m sorry. I’m just scared.” You muttered, “I’ll cool it. Okay?”

He smiled and turned back to the stove. He grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred the oats. He swore under his breath.

“I really hope you’re a good cook because we’re all gonna be miserable if I’m in charge.” He tutted at the steaming pot. “Or at least, half-starved.”

👁️

“So we ended up getting lost on the beach,” Steve hit his empty bowl with his elbow as he talked. “And the bozo says he’s gonna get seasick. On land!”

You laughed as Steve’s eyes twinkled but quickly stopped as you heard the beep from the front door. It opened and closed, followed by the tap of fingertips on the panel. You looked over your shoulder as Bucky entered. You hadn’t realised how long you and Steve had been talking. A couple hours even after finishing the chewy porridge.

“There’s more in the car,” Bucky crossed to the island and plunked two bags on it. 

“Oh, I’ll help,” you slid off the stool and Bucky caught your shoulder.

“You should stay inside,” Bucky said, “Steve.”

“Alright.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“I’ll clean up in here,” you offered.

“Don’t you dare,” Steve warned as he rounded the counter. “But since you promised to cook tonight I’ll be more than happy to let you do so then.”

“Deal,” you said and watched him pass into the hallway. 

Bucky’s hand slipped from your shoulder and he gripped the lip of the counter. “You two get along.”

“Figure I should try, considering,” you moved so that the stool was between you. 

“It’s gonna start snowing soon.” He said awkwardly. “Calling for a storm next week. Could be snowed in here.”

“Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” you said.

“Maybe,” he reached into one of the bags as he spoke, “I got you this.” He pulled out a bottle of red, “Figured I might as well.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to but… thanks,” you tried to smile. You heard Steve behind you and Bucky’s jaw squared as he looked over your shoulder. “At least let me help unpack.” You insisted as Steve placed the bags beside the others. “I mean, it’ll be something to keep me busy.”

“Twist my arm,” Steve said, “Alright, I’ll get the dishes and you started putting all this away. Bucky, do you mind helping?”

Bucky nodded and blinked slowly. “Any coffee left?” He asked.

“I’ll make a fresh pot,” Steve said as he gathered up the bowls, “But I wouldn’t recommend my oatmeal. There’s probably something better hidden in those bags.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Bucky muttered, “It was a long ride.”

👁️

You decided that while you weren’t in control, it didn’t mean you were helpless. It only meant that you needed to let those who knew what they were doing take care of it. Bucky and Steve had years of experience in security and combat. You were just a secretary scared for her life. You had no idea what to do or what you were doing.

After the first couple days, it grew easier. You grew comfortable but not complacent. The few times of day you could cook kept you busy enough to distract you. Steve and Bucky were easier to be around as you grew used to them, even just used to having others in your living space. Mostly, you kept to yourself but managed some decent conversation when you ate or stumbled upon each other in the cabin.

It was quiet and you were bored. Again. There were a few books you'd found to read and your doodles had grown frustrating. You decided to take a shower and try to relax. Your isolation made you restless and your restlessness made you think of why you were hidden away in the middle of nowhere.

You locked the door behind you and hung your towel. To your surprise, Bucky had managed to pick out the exact soap you used. You couldn't recall if you'd been finicky enough to have written it on the list. You stretched and undressed. You still didn't sleep very well but it wasn't as if you did very much either.

You stepped under the showerhead as the pipes whined. In the evening, if your keepers were busy, you'd read by the woodstove. The smell was calming and the crackle filled the dead air. Maybe after you would sneak down and try to warm up in front of the fire.

The shower fogged up and you closed your eyes as you scrubbed your body. The smell was reassuring. It reminded you of when your life was normal. It made you think that maybe you could go back to before. That this might end and you might be free to live again.

You let out a breath and cranked the shower off. You pulled back the curtain as the steam cleared and you patted your skin dry before wrapping yourself in the towel. As you picked up your clothes, you froze. You stood and neared the door. Had you not locked it? 

It was half-open and let in a draft from the hallway. You poked your head out and peered up and down the hall. Nothing, no one. Well, you were careless, you could've left it unlocked, not pushed it enough for it to catch.

You tiptoed across the hall to your room and pulled the door shut. This time you made sure it was closed though there was no lock on it. You tossed your clothes on the bed and pulled out a new set. Loose sweatpants and a cotton shirt. You needed to do laundry already. Well, another task to keep you occupied.

You pulled on some socks and crept out into the hall. You descended the stairs and listened for any sign of disturbance. Usually the men worked in the dining room or in the small office on the other side of the stairs. 

You got to the bottom of the stairs and neared the front door. You looked out at the grey forest. It was supposed to snow that night, that's what Bucky declared at breakfast. You grasped the handle but it would not turn. You reached to the panel just beside you but it rejected your fingerprint with a loud beep. 

"Going somewhere?" Bucky asked and you spun to face him, startled.

"No, I just… haven't been outside and I just wanted to… smell the air. I guess that's, uh, weird." You rubbed your hands together.

"It's freezing. You can't go out like that."

You stared at him. "But can I… go out?"

His blue eyes clung to you and his long lashes flicked. He lifted his brow and stepped closer. He stopped and slid your boots over to you with his foot. 

"Stay close," he grabbed his coat, "And wear a hat."

He handed you a wool beanie from his coat pocket before he pulled the ends of his hair from beneath his collar. You took your coat, in slight disbelief, and smiled.

"You sure it's okay?"

"Well, you shouldn't be pent up in here for so long and once it snows, you won't wanna go out much at all."

He opened the door as you tucked your hands into your gloves. You stepped out and he followed you closely as the door clicked shut behind him. You tramped down the steps and bounced on your heels at the bottom. It smelled like pine and cold.

Bucky walked evenly across the clearing and you trailed behind him as he neared the trees. He stopped and waited for you to catch up. He waved you ahead of him. "Just follow the path."

He wasn't far behind as you did as he said, the path winding between trees and petering out before a frosty brook that would freeze over with the first snowfall. Your teeth chattered as the looming winter nipped through your layers. You were quiet as you bent to pick up a pinecone and admire its scales.

You felt Bucky watching you as you turned back and walked around the small clearing amidst the trees.

"Hey," you faced him and tossed the pinecone away, "I'm sorry I was so… contrary. I was afraid."

"It's fine," he shooed away your apology with his hand, "I've dealt with worse."

"Sure but… I owe you a thank you, too. You saved me. More than once. And I know I wouldn't be alive without you. So thanks. Really. And… I am trying. I trust you. I know you're going to get this guy."

He gave a small smile and kicked a stone as he came closer. "Well, let me just say, this is one of the only jobs I've been assigned that hasn't been a complete pain in the ass."

You scoffed and resisted your urge to back away from him. "Flattering, really."

"Twenty minutes," he said, "Then we gotta go back… before Steve notices and gets worried. Or worse, he'll think we left him out of some fun."

"Ah," you snorted, "Yeah, wouldn't want him to think that."

👁️

Another day and then another. Time fell as lackadaisical as the snow. At first, it had been a storm but it had slowed to a powdery lull. Neither Steve nor Bucky spoke of the killer and you didn’t dare to ask. What good would it do you to know he had killed another? Or that some other grisly piece of art had been found? Ignorance was bliss or at least solace.

You found yourself moving from room to room. First, your bedroom, then the kitchen for a cup of tea, the living room to feed the stove and watch it burn, and then back upstairs. You ran into Steve on your way up. He seemed distracted if not a bit perturbed. You noticed that in the last day he and Bucky had been quiet. More so than usual.

You continued up to your room and opened your current read; a classic you refused to read in high school and opted for the Sparknotes instead. You laid on your bed, one leg bent under the other as you swayed back and forth. The words didn’t stick in your mind and you found yourself rereading the same page until you clapped the book shut and snarled.

You sat up and tapped your foot on the floor. You heard voices, muffled by your door. You eked it open and slowly approached the top of the stairs. You listened as the argument came clearer.

“Goddamn it, Bucky, after everything I’ve done for you. What the fuck are we here for? Well, what am I here for?” Steve growled.

“Stop yelling, alright.” Bucky snipped. “Have a little fucking patience. You know this hasn’t been easy.” You heard something slam but couldn’t guess at what. “Don’t fucking blow it. Shut up and have a little faith in me.”

There was grumbling but nothing more as a door closed and blocked out the voices entirely. You felt that heat along the back of your neck. The sudden burst of instinctual fear that nestled along your shoulders. The goosebumps that told you that not all was as it seemed. The creeping, inescapable sensation which had lingered for weeks now.

You pushed yourself up to your feet and headed back to your room. It was a stressful mission, you couldn’t blame the two for getting frustrated. That must have been what it was. They were anxious to get this guy and be onto their next mission. You doubted it was their ideal job to be locked away in the snow.

You stopped as your hand fell to your door handle and you peered down the hall into Bucky’s room. The door was mostly open, only a slight angle blocking out part of the room. Slowly, you dragged your hand away from the knob and felt along the wall as you continued down the hall.

His bed was unmade, the pillows strewn about, and a familiar patch of fabric stuck out from beneath one of them. You glanced behind you and took a breath. You took a step inside and waited as if testing it. Would he know? He seemed to know everything.

You placed one foot in front of the other as softly as you could. You leaned a knee against the mattress and reached beneath the pillow. You lifted up your panties and blanched at the little daisies speckles along the cotton. You’d gone all week without a pair, the mystery of their disappearance forgotten as your own carelessness. You mouthed ‘what the fuck’ as you dropped them back to the bed.

You turned around and went to the tall dresser near the closet. You inched the top drawer open; the rest of your panties bunched up with his briefs. The pink pair with the hearts you didn’t dare to touch as dried white strings stained the lacy edge. You slid the drawer shut and gasped as you were suffocated by your shock.

You spun around and peeked out the open door. You heard nothing but the winter gales outside. You rounded the bed and went to the table in the corner; a monitor, a mouse, a keyboard, stacks of folders and papers. 

Your fingers shook as you took your wallet from the mess and opened it up. Your cards, your IDs, and even the cash remained within. You put it back and took the envelope that was hidden beneath it. You opened it and flipped through its contents; your college ID from years ago, the one you got replaced after presumably dropping it in the library, your graduation photo, pictures of your family and you… all things you’d thought you lost.

You replaced the envelope and lifted the top of a file. The same drawing as before and several more, each one bloodier, more gruesome than the last until the final one. A metal arm around your neck…

Your hand hit the mouse as you retracted it in disgust and the monitor lit up. The sudden glare stung your eyes. A dozen different frames across the screen; each one a room in the house, including yours and even one in the shower. Bucky and Steve were in the office, deep in conversation.

You let out a shuddered breath as tears pricked.

You moved the mouse slowly and clicked on the file explorer. Folders sorted by date and then another simply labelled with your street name. You hesitated before you selected it. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of video files sorted by date. You bent closer as you clicked on the last day.

You hit double speed as your empty apartment greeted you. Then you came home, poured your wine, then Bucky arrived, you ordered food… You slowed down the footage as you slumped against the arm of the couch. The wine and the terror of that video call had left you senseless.

Bucky stood and pulled you down to lay across the couch. He backed up and watched you for a while then neared you again. You watched in horror as he bent over you and rolled your pants down. He climbed between your legs and buried his head between them. He shoved his metal hand beneath his mouth and your entire body jolted as he fingered.

You gasped as he finished and pulled your pants back up. Then he stood near you and used your hand to pleasure himself. You exited out of the window before your stomach turned entirely. You stood as you looked to the live feed. The office was empty.

You were suddenly pulled back as a rope wrapped around your neck. You kicked out as you were strangled, a figure flush against your back. You flailed and grabbed at the robe as you were shoved towards the bed. The body fell down onto you and the rope tightened.

“Baby girl,” Bucky’s voice slithered in your ear, “It didn’t have to be like this.”

[be11atrixthestrange]

The Loft Chapter 4

After a bad break-up, Hermione Granger moves into a messy and dysfunctional loft with four single men. What starts as a temporary home until she gets back on her feet becomes so much more, as she learns there's a lot of life - and love - that happens at rock-bottom.

Inspired by the TV Series ‘New Girl’

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Also on A03 | FFN

More Chapters

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Chapter 4

[Ron]

Ron would best describe the loft as a mess, but a clean one. After hours of scrubbing, the windows are clear and smudge-free, and the concrete floor shimmers with its long-forgotten natural color. What makes him feel most at home, however, is not the fresh pine scent of the couch cushions, but the fact that they're strewn about the floor like plush stepping stones. The boys have arranged them around the trash can in the middle of the room, which is empty save for a dried-up bottle of Febreeze.

Ron's desperate to know Hermione's opinion on the new decor. Despite lifting an eyebrow at the bad doodles of United States presidents and the cardboard cutout of a bald eagle plastered to the wall, she doesn't say anything. She must know better than to think he'll offer an explanation.

After cleaning and decorating the loft, Neville, Seamus, and Harry dispersed into their rooms to make themselves presentable, leaving Ron and Hermione alone in the kitchen to finish up the last of the dishes. He hands her a plate to dry, and she takes it with a smile.

"Thank you for helping, Hermione."

"Of course! But I'm not sure why we're cleaning so much if it's just going to get trashed."

Trashed might be an exaggeration, but she's right in the sense that the new cleanliness of the loft isn't going to last very long. Tonight they're throwing a party, Hermione's first as a loft resident, and she's in for a treat. The boys have been purposely vague regarding loft parties, as any accurate descriptions might turn her off attending. Ron would hate to have her make other plans tonight, whether those be with the girls, or worse, a date.

"Hey, we're not animals. But if it's going to get trashed, it's nice to know it's new-trashed, not old-trashed," he says, earning an eye-roll from Hermione.

"So I'm guessing that this party is America-themed?"

"No. Why would you guess that?"

"No reason," she says, eyeing the miniature blow-up Uncle Sam doll that the boys have been tossing around like a basketball.

"The decorations are just for the drinking game we're going to play," he says, motioning to the multiple cases of PBR lining the wall.

"Right, how do you play?"

"It's not really a game you can explain. You just have to experience it. Nice try, though."

"Then I look forward to experiencing it." She finishes drying the last dish and stacks it away neatly in the cupboard. "What else do we need to set up? Everyone's coming at eight, right?

Ron checks his watch. "Shit, you're right. People should be here soon. I'm going to get ready. Can you start on the beer castle?"

"The beer castle?"

"Yeah. Just stack beer cans in a castle shape around the trash can in the living room."

Ron doesn't wait for Hermione's reaction before he slips back into his room. He rummages around his closet in search of something to wear, something that makes him look both put-together and laid back, ready to party. He lands on a pair of khaki shorts and a pastel blue t-shirt that looks quite nice with his eyes.

He's pretty sure Hermione hasn't seen him in it. Not that it matters, anyway.

He pulls off his shirt and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Surprisingly, he looks pretty damn good. He's a bit skinny but firm and fit. It comes as a pleasant surprise because he's been slacking on his workouts ever since Hermione moved in and he lost his home gym. It's been difficult to exercise in his tiny bedroom, so he doesn't. He hasn't wanted to work out in the living room for fear of Hermione seeing him, but maybe he should give that a try…

With a shrug, Ron pulls off his pants and stands back up. He can't resist the urge to take another look at himself in the mirror. As much as he wishes he was a bit more muscular, there are pros to being lanky. By comparison, his scrawny self really does accentuate his already well-endowed state.

He checks himself out from a few more angles before deciding that physically, he doesn't have much to complain about.

Before he has the chance to put on his pants, the door to his bedroom swings open. Ron startles when it crashes against the wall and Hermione barges in uninvited.

"Hey Ron, I have a question about the beer can castle—"

"Hermione!" Ron, completely naked, scrambles for something to cover himself with but doesn't have time before she's standing right in front of him. "You have to knock!"

She's staring at the two cans in her hands until she pauses and looks up, but her gaze never makes it to his face. Instead, it lands directly on his penis, and she seems to stare at it for an eternity. Thanks to his utter panic, Ron can't move.

It almost feels like time has stopped, and he's frozen there like the statue of David while Hermione ogles him. She appears to be frozen too, eyes wide, mouth agape, staring.

If his dick could blush, it would match the color of his ears, which are bleeding scarlet.

For a split second, he wonders if it's truly as bad as it seems. Maybe Hermione likes what she sees. A tiny seed of hope takes root.

But that hope shatters when she opens her mouth to speak and lets out the worst sound he's ever heard. It's somewhere between a scream and a giggle, and he wouldn't wish such a reaction on his worst enemy.

Without further ado, a red-faced Hermione mutters a quick and useless 'sorry' and rushes out the door and slams it behind her.

Ron stands there for a few seconds, dumbfounded, before the reality of what just happened crashes down.

Hermione just laughed at his dick.

Well, fuck.

Now that he knows how she really feels, he'll never be able to look her in the eye again.

Ron stays in his room until there's a knock on the loft's door, and he has to show his face in order to let in his guests. He's opted for a hoodie over his shirt so he can hide behind the hood whenever Hermione looks at him, because when she does, his neck prickles with heatwaves, and he feels like he's naked again.

It doesn't make sense — Ron's never reacted so strongly to having a woman see him naked, and he's had a decent amount of experience in that arena. He's no Seamus, of course, but he's not a stranger to the occasional hookup.

It's just because she laughed—no other reason.

He opens the door to find his sister Ginny, her roommate Demelza, and two of their mutual friends—Dean and Luna.

"Welcome," says Ron, opening the door.

"Hey, Ron!" says Ginny. "Hermione!"

Ginny crashes into Hermione for a hug, then introduces her to everyone else. "This is Hermione, Ron's new roommate."

"Nice to meet you all!"

Hermione falls into easy conversation with Ron's friends before they get a chance to greet him, but they don't seem bothered by it. He watches her through narrowed eyes and doesn't even realize he's glaring at her until she looks at him and scowls.

"What?"

"Nothing." He turns back toward his friends, hoping they didn't notice their interaction. "Make yourselves at home. Drinks in the fridge, food on the counter, and you know where the beer is," he says, pointing at the beer castle.

Harry turns the music up just as their guests crack open their beers, and everyone starts to relax. Except for Ron, of course. Even though he's hyper-aware of Hermione, he still manages to bump into her and make more frequent eye contact than he'd like.

For some reason, they seem to gravitate toward the kitchen to replenish food and drinks at the same time, and they barely manage a conversation when they run into each other.

"Oh, sorry," she says, trying to slide past him, only for him to walk directly into her in an attempt to get out of her way.

"Erm—"

"I'll go left; you go right."

"Yeah, okay."

Are they always this awkward around each other?

Every time he tries to act normal, all he can hear is her weird little high-pitched scream-laugh, and he just wants to disappear into his hoodie. On occasion, Ron can sense Hermione watching him, but she looks away whenever he tries to catch her gaze. Not that he wants to make awkward eye contact with her, he just wants her to leave him alone.

He continues to keep himself at a safe distance to avoid talking to her, making sure he's always involved in a conversation with someone else. Over the course of the party, he becomes progressively more resentful of how much mental space it requires to avoid her.

Then, like a hawk, she swoops in and catches him alone while he's in the kitchen grabbing another beer.

"Ron!"

"Jesus," he says, nearly crashing into her. "You scared me."

"Why are you being so weird?"

"I'm not."

"Is it because I saw you naked?"

"No."

"It's not a big deal, Ron."

Of course, she has the nerve to act like he's the one who's being childish.

"Oh yeah, Hermione?" he says. "Then why did you laugh? Too immature?"

Hermione opens her mouth to answer, but in the moment before she does, he turns away from her and shouts to the crowd, "Who's ready for True American?"

The loft whoops their approval and begins to gather in the living room.

"Right now?" whispers Hermione behind him. "We're still talking."

But he ignores her.

"The game is True American," shouts Ron at a volume much louder than necessary for the size of the room. "Say 'aye' if you've played before."

There's a chorus of 'ayes' and a room-wide scrambling toward the furniture. When everyone hops onto a cushion, a table, or a chair, Ron notices Hermione looking around frantically, her expression disheartened.

"I'm the only one who's never played?" she asks.

"It's okay, Hermione," says Harry. "All you need to know is that it's about fifty percent drinking, fifty percent life-size Candy Land."

"I'd argue that it's seventy-five percent drinking, twenty percent Candy Land, and the floor is lava," says Ginny. "Which is why we're standing on the furniture. Hermione, you're melting."

"Oh no," she says, hopping up onto the coffee table between the beer castle and Demelza, who extends a hand to help her.

"Honestly, guys, it's ninety-percent drinking and has a very loose Candy Land-like structure to it," says Neville. "There's also a truth or dare component."

"I just need to know how to play—"

"You're smart; you'll catch on," says Ron. His tone comes off a little more terse than he'd intended, so he quickly continues, "I'll start. JFK!"

"FDR!"

Everyone but Hermione shuffles to a new location, avoiding the lava floor, and Hermione is left standing in her same spot between the beer castle and now, Luna.

"What just happened?" she asks, looking confused.

"Hermione, since you're the last to find a new spot, you have to pick someone, and they'll ask you a truth or dare question," explains Ginny. "Just answer and drink."

"Okay, then," she says. "Um, Neville. Truth."

"How do you like loft life?" asks Neville brightly, eliciting a groan from the crowd.

"Neville, you can do better—" starts Seamus.

"It's her first game!" he says. "Let's ease her in. So, Hermione?"

"Well, it's great so far."

"Just so you know, not every question will be that tame," says Ginny from her precarious perch on the armchair.

"Go figure," says Hermione before chugging back a gulp of her PBR.

As soon as she swallows her drink, Neville shouts out, "The only thing we have to fear is…"

"Fear itself!"

When the crowd joins in, Hermione looks around the room, dumbfounded.

"Hermione, you didn't complete the quote," says Harry.

"I didn't know I was supposed to!"

"Well, now you do! Drink, and then pick someone."

"I feel like I'm at a disadvantage since you didn't explain the game," she says, challenging Harry.

"We've all been there," Harry says, shrugging, "It's a rite of passage."

"Fine," Hermione takes a long swig and points at Ginny. "Ginny, truth."

"Sweet!" says Ginny, beaming mischievously. "Hermione, are you attracted to anyone in the loft?"

Ron's ears tingle at Ginny's question, and he tunes in for Hermione's answer.

"Nope," she says, taking a hasty drink.

In his curiosity, Ron has made prolonged eye contact with Hermione for the first time since the penis-incident, but when she catches his gaze, he quickly looks away. Ron's stomach clenches. Not that he wants Hermione to be attracted to him, but after she saw him naked, it's quite the low blow. Trying to look casual, he pulls back a swig of beer.

"Really?" presses Seamus. "None of us?"

"Ginny's turn!" says Hermione, ignoring Seamus' question.

"Alright, here we go," says Ginny, her eyes narrowed in concentration. "Abe Lincoln! George Washington!"

"Cherry Tree!" shouts Ron.

"Correct! Pick a person and an amendment!"

"Hermione, second."

Everyone looks at Hermione, and Ginny tosses her an unopened can of beer.

"I don't understand," she says. "You still haven't given me any information."

"You have to shotgun a beer! And then pick someone to ask truth or dare," says Dean.

"Wait, what? That doesn't make any sense."

"Give it time, Hermione," encourages Neville. "I didn't understand it at first either."

Hermione groans and sets down her half-full PBR, and reaches into her pocket for her key. She stabs the bottom of her can, then tips it into her mouth, chugging it down while the loft's onlookers cheer in the background.

Eyebrows raised, Ron watches her shotgun her beer, trying to ignore the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He never thought he'd see that, and he isn't complaining.

"Yeah, there's no going back now," says Hermione once she finishes. "Luna, truth."

"Yay!" says Luna. "Did you and Ron get into a fight? You've been avoiding each other all night."

Ron's face grows hot. He bores his gaze toward Luna, who is staring intently at Hermione and doesn't seem to notice Ron's glare.

"Is that really your question?" she asks.

"Yep!"

"Luna, you've never seen us interact," says Ron. "How would you know that?"

Luna shrugs. "I can just tell."

"You know what," says Harry as he looks between Ron and Hermione. "You two have been acting weird tonight."

"Is it that obvious?" asks Hermione.

Ron feels Hermione's eyes on him, and his palms break out in a sweat. Once again, his refusal to make direct eye contact probably serves as a sufficient answer to Hermione's question.

"Well, fine then," she says, turning back toward Luna. "Earlier, I walked in on him changing. But it wasn't a big deal."

"Ron, is this true?" asks Harry.

Everyone turns to look at Ron, who groans. "Yes, but as she said, it wasn't a big deal."

His roommates might as well be shining an interrogation light on him by the way they all continue to stare.

"If it wasn't a big deal, why are you all fidgety?" asks Seamus.

"I'm not," says Ron, but his defensive tone suggests otherwise.

"Yeah, women have seen you naked before, Ron," says Luna. "Why is it different with Hermione?"

"Whose turn is it?" says Ron, much louder than necessary. Anything to divert the attention from Luna's oddly specific question.

"Oh, it's my turn," says Luna. "One, two, three, go!"

Luna holds up the number five to her forehead, and everyone else follows suit with their own number. Ron looks frantically around the room and breathes a sigh of relief when he matches numbers with Harry.

It appears that Hermione, who was the last to catch on, as usual, is the only one without a partner.

"Not again!" she says. "But at least that one made sense. Seamus, truth."

"Are you sure you want to do that?" asks Ginny.

But it's too late. Seamus, who is already slurring his words, looks at Hermione and asks, "So, Hermione, what does Ron's dick look like?"

"Dude, what the fuck?" shouts Ron.

"Seriously, Seamus," adds Harry. "That's not even an interesting question."

"Sure, it is! I'm interested!"

"Old news," pipes in Neville. "We've all seen Ron's dick."

Embarrassed, Ron glances toward Hermione. She looks lost for words. "You don't have to answer, Hermione."

"No, we haven't!" says Seamus.

"Really?" says Dean as he side-eyes Seamus. "I've seen it, and I don't even live here."

Ron looks toward the loft door. Maybe he can make a run for it.

"Am I the only roommate who hasn't seen your dick?" asks Seamus, now appearing uninterested in Hermione's answer. When everyone in the room turns to look at Ron, he feels like he's naked in a crowd again.

Ron shrugs. "I guess so," he says, casually taking a sip of his beer.

"When? Where?"

"I don't know, dude. Locker rooms, penis fights, I'm sure you'll see it someday," says Ron. "Can we stop talking about my dick, now?"

"Yes, let's move on," says Hermione with an apologetic glance in Ron's direction. "Just ask me a different question."

"Fine," says Seamus, his words melding together, "Hermione, what did you think of Ron's dick?"

"Seriously, Seamus?"

"I guess we can't," mutters Ron.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Whatever. He has a very nice penis."

"I wouldn't know," says Seamus bitterly. Then, just as quickly, "JFK!"

"FDR!"

Everyone scrambles for a new spot, and this time Ron's the only one left out in the shuffle.

"Fuck," he says, looking around for someone who won't ask him a dick-related question. "Uh, Demelza, truth."

Demelza smiles. "How did Hermione react to seeing your dick?"

"I picked you because I thought you wouldn't ask about my dick, Demelza."

"Sorry," shrugs Demelza.

"It wasn't a big deal," says Hermione.

Before he can stop himself, Ron scoffs, and once again, everyone snaps their heads in his direction.

"Sounds like it was a big deal."

"It wasn't!" says Hermione. "I mean—"

"Hermione, don't," says Ron, but Hermione continues without a missed beat.

"I laughed at first, but only because I was nervous."

"You LAUGHED?" asked Demelza. "No wonder you two are being so weird."

"It was an accident!"

"Let's move on," growls Ron. "Demelza, your turn." He shoots a glare in Hermione's direction.

"Niagara!" says Demelza.

Everyone brings their drink to their mouth and begins chugging. As soon as each person finishes, they toss their empty cans to the PBR castle in the middle of the room. Hermione, having caught on a moment too late, is the last one to toss it.

Hermione groans. "Harry, dare."

Harry grins. "Well, to make Ron feel better, I dare you to repeat after me. I love Ron's cock."

Ron's ears grow warm again, but they're also buzzing from the beer, which takes precedence over his embarrassment. Also, it'll be interesting to hear Hermione follow through with this dare.

Hermione narrows her eyes at him. "Fine. I love Ron's penis."

Ron sends her a curious glance. She said it so… formally, like she was taking an oath in court.

There's a tense silence while everyone stares at Hermione. "Try again," says Harry.

"Why?"

"I love Ron's cock," he repeats. "Say it."

"I did."

"You said penis. Not cock."

"Same thing!" she protests.

"Hermione, why can't you say cock?" repeats Harry.

"Penis is the technical term," she says, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Ron chuckles at the argument playing out before him.

"What about dick?" suggests Demelza.

Hermione stares at Demelza, her cheeks flooding with color. "Why?"

"Schlong? Wang? Knob?" offers Seamus.

"Seriously, what's wrong with 'penis'?"

"Nothing, it's just weird that you won't say cock," says Harry. "I think that should require two drinks for refusing a dare."

Ron looks around the room; everyone nods in agreement.

"Fine," says Hermione before taking a second sip.

As soon as she finishes her sip, Harry shouts, "Give me liberty or—"

"Give me death!"

As assumed, Hermione is the only one who doesn't catch on.

"Ugh," she says. "Dean, dare."

"I dare you to make it even!" slurs Dean.

"What does that mean?"

"He showed you his; now you show him yours."

"Executive order," says Ginny. "Vetoed."

"Why?" asks Ron. "I don't think it's a bad idea. Plus, it would make me feel better." He pouts at Hermione with wide, puppy-dog eyes and grins when her cheeks flood with color. He's well aware that she never responded to Dean.

"Too far, that's why," says Ginny.

"Well," says Ron. "You guys are no fun."

There's a moment of silence when no one seems to remember where they are in the game or whose turn it is. Seamus breaks the silence with a question directed at Ron.

"Can I please just see it?"

Ron groans and rolls his eyes. "No. And I'm going to bed."

"Why?" whines Seamus.

"I didn't think my dick would be such a huge topic of conversation, yet here we are."

"More of a slightly above average topic if you ask me," says Harry.

"See what I mean?" says Ron, as he hops off his cushion and turns his back to the crowd. "Goodnight."

x

After chugging a tall glass of water, Ron retreats to his room for the night, ready to escape his roommates' drunken shenanigans. He changes into sweats, settles underneath the covers, and is about to turn off the lights when there's a knock at his door.

"Erm, come in."

The door creaks open, and Hermione pokes her head into his room. "Hi," she says.

"Hi," he responds, raising his eyebrows at his unexpected guest. "Thank you for knocking."

"So—"

"I'm not naked. Sorry to disappoint you." He cuts her off, aiming for an icy tone, but unfortunately, it comes off whiny.

Maybe he has been acting a bit petty and childish.

She stares at him, expressionless, for a few tense moments and then bursts out into laughter. He can't help but follow suit. Her laughter is quite contagious when he's fully clothed.

"For the record, I'm not laughing at the thought of you naked," she assures him as if reading his mind.

"Sure, Hermione. Sure," he says. His cheeks are heating up, but he's glad it's not from embarrassment this time.

"I meant it, you know," she says, as soon as her laughter dies down.

"You meant what?"

"That you have a very nice—" she clears her throat, "cock."

Ron beams — at both the compliment and her word choice. "You said cock!"

She stands a little taller. "I've been practicing."

"Say it again!" he urges.

"Please don't make me."

"Pretty please—"

"Fine," she says, taking a step, so she's fully in the room. The door closes behind her. "Cock. Dick. Schlong. Willy."

"Okay, now you're embarrassing yourself."

"Give me more words," she says, now grinning. "I want to prove that I can do it."

"Okay, why don't you try Peter Pecker. Big Red. The Orange Cannon."

Hermione's face flashes red, and she slaps a hand to her mouth.

"Too much for you?" asks Ron.

"Did you nickname your penis?"

"No!" Ron protests, although his flushing cheeks likely give him away. "Those are from former lovers."

"Oh, well, I'm not going to say them then."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not your former lover," she argues.

He catches a slight emphasis on' former' and forces himself to keep his expression neutral. Maybe some good will come from the penis incident. Either that, or he's imagining it.

"While technically true, I still want to hear you say them."

"Too bad."

Thankful that the awkwardness seems to be dissipating, Ron grins at her. "Then you'll have to make it up to me another way."

As soon he speaks, he winces, hearing the implication of his words a moment too late. Did he actually just say that?

Hermione doesn't waste any time with her response. "How? By making it even?"

Ron cannot interpret her expression — it almost looks like she's trying to keep it neutral. In his effort to decipher it, he hesitates for too long, and by leaving her comment hanging, he might as well have agreed.

"That was actually what I came in here to do," she says, biting her lip.

"Really?"

"Yes."

At this point, it feels like his whole face is on fire, and Hermione's smirk isn't helping at all. He can't bring himself to look away from her eyes nor say anything, as the air feels too thick with tension. She could be bluffing, but he has no desire to call her on it if she is.

Is she joking?

His question answers itself when Hermione averts her eyes to the ground and hooks her thumbs at the hem of her shirt.

Holy shit. She's not.

Hermione keeps her eyes on the ground, and Ron can't help but grin at how her cheeks turn bashfully pink. He wishes he could help it because he's definitely beaming like an idiot. With a deep, nervous breath, she pulls her shirt up and over her bra—

She's not wearing a bra.

Fuck.

Ron lets out a breath that he didn't even know he was holding. "Well damn, Hermione."

Still holding up her shirt, she meets his gaze. "Yes, Ron?"

"You have amazing… knockers."

"Ron!" she says, shoving her shirt back down. He immediately misses the view, but he doesn't regret his word choice. "They're called breasts."

"Boobies. Bing Bongs. Spongey love mountains."

"And I'm the immature one?"

"Jesus, woman, just take the compliment! I'm trying to tell you that I love your tatas." He speaks before he can filter himself, hoping she doesn't read too much into his phrasing. There's nothing wrong with showing appreciation, after all.

She lets a small smile at his admission but quickly narrows her eyes and crosses her arms over her now fully-clothed chest. "If I have to say cock, you have to say breasts."

"Sorry, Hermione," says Ron, his tone veering dangerously close to flirtation. Then, feeling a bit bolder, he continues, "what I meant to say is you have wonderful breasts."

Her face tinges red, and she smiles smugly. "Thank you, Ron."

"You're very welcome. Your turn."

"What?"

He motions toward his pants. "I want to hear you say it again."

She groans. "Fine, but this is the last time."

"Sure it is."

She rolls her eyes before continuing. "Ron, you have a lovely cock."

His breath hitches in his throat. Hearing her say that again definitely does something to him, and it's not helped by the sincerity in her tone. She's not lying. As a result, his hair stands on end, heat pools in his stomach, and he's thankful for the positioning of his bed covers.

"Thank you, Hermione," he responds, looking directly into her warm brown eyes. Reflecting her slight smile, they appear softer and darker than usual, as if they're deep in thought.

Ron and Hermione keep eye contact for a few elongated seconds before the awkwardness of the interaction kicks in, and they avert their eyes, looking anywhere but each other. What an odd conversation to have with a roommate.

"I should go to bed," says Hermione, pointing at the door.

"Erm, yeah. Me too."

"So I guess I'll see you in the morning?"

"Good night," he says, but Hermione's already out the door. He sighs.

It shuts behind her, and Ron turns off the light and leans back in his bed. When he closes his eyes, the image of Hermione's perfect breasts is still fresh in his mind, and he makes no effort to let it morph into something else because who knows if he'll ever get to see them again.

Why would he? She's just his roommate.

Yeah. I'm definitely attracted to my roommate.

A smile creeps onto his face. It feels good to admit it, even if it's only to himself.

[nanaminsonyfans]

Between Worlds; Chapter Three

Previous, Next Masterlist

gif is not mine

A/N: Here’s chapter three! Please enjoy it!

!!TW!! Swearing, mentions of blood and burns

“By the way, where are we going?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Zuko was laying in his bed, an arm tucked behind his head. He let out a sigh, moving to stare up at the ceiling. Just thinking about the Avatar made his blood boil. Why was she doing this to him? He gripped the bedsheets growling slightly under his breath. Why did thinking of her make him feel weird? Zuko’s heart always started racing when he thought about her. He assumed it was because of the hatred he felt for her, maybe it was. Or maybe, just maybe, he felt other emotions as well. No, it couldn’t be. Especially not for her. 

You had been flying all day from the Air Temple. It must’ve been at least six hours, the sun was already setting. “Where are we going?” Sokka whined, glancing over at you as he stretched with Momo laying on his stomach. “Somewhere with water around it.” You answered with a sly smirk playing at your lips. “Haha, very funny, Y/N.” He huffed, glaring at you. You rolled your eyes and glanced down, your eyes landing on a medium-sized island. “I found where we’re going.” You sang happily, guiding Appa to said island. 

“Look Sokka! There’s a stream,” You pointed to a small, crystal clear waterfall streaming water into a river-like stream, with plenty of coy. “Go fish for your food.” You stuck your tongue out at him as you spoke with an attitude laced in your voice. Sokka retaliated with the same notion before grabbing his fishing rod, grumbling as he plopped down on the edge of the cool river. You began to help Katara with her things. “Thank you, Y/N.” “No problem, it’s the least I can do after almost...hurting you guys.” You mumbled the last part, remembering yesterday. “It’s okay, Y/N. I understand. Plus, you don’t seem able to control your Avatar state yet.” She sympathized with you, though you were unsure why. The two of you were nothing alike. In fact, you were from entirely different worlds. You sighed and gave her a thankful smile. “Thank you, Katar-” 

“Woah!” Sokka screamed, both of you turned your heads to the direction. The boy was hanging on a rope, by his foot. “You three have a lot of explaining to do.” A commanding woman’s voice spoke. About ten or more girls jumped down from the trees and came out of bushes. You took a defensive stance, putting Katara behind you. Then it struck you, these were the Kyoshi Warriors! 

Sokka cut himself loose, although he had a blindfold on. He pulled it up and saw the women. “Who are you? Where are the men that ambushed us?” “There were no men. If you don’t answer our questions we are throwing you to the elephant coy.” One of the women spoke while narrowing her eyes at Sokka. “No way we were ambushed by a bunch of girls!” Sokka scoffed glaring at the women in their dresses and makeup. One of the girls grabbed Sokka by his shirt collar. “I guess Unagi will have a delicious dinner then.” She growled at him. “No wait! He’s my brother, he’s just an idiot sometimes.” Katara explained running to her brother’s aid. You scoffed and rolled your eyes at the pair. “Look, I’m the Avatar-” “Impossible! The Avatar disappeared a hundred years ago!” A woman, most likely the leader, interrupted. “Well yeah. That’s me.” You stated matter-of-factly. “Feed the imposter to Unagi!” She commanded. “What?! No! I-” The women already stalked over to you. 

“Y/N, do an airbending trick!” Katara nervously yelled. You became flustered. How could you prove yourself? Your mind went blank, what the fuck would you do?! You gulped and searched your pockets for something, anything. Your hands grasped something cold and round, a marble. Your eyes lit up as you pulled it out. “Watch this.” You grinned concentrating on the silver marble. It lifted off the palm of your hand and started to spin. There were a few ‘oohs’ and ‘awes’ from the women. “You’re an airbender!” One of the girls said in amazement. “You are the Avatar.” The leader said breathlessly as she walked up to you.

“I am Suki, the leader.” The girl stated, holding her hand out for you to shake. “Hello Suki, I’m Y/N.” You shook her hand smiling sweetly at the woman. 

One the other side of the island a little girl ran up to her father, who was fishing. “Did you hear?” She asked in an excited tone. “Hear what?” He asked, putting his newly caught fish in a basket. “The Avatar is on Kyoshi!” The little girl said jumping up and down happily. “What?!” The fishermen asked in surprise. 

Word spread almost like wildfire, especially in the marketplace. The fishermen told a shopkeep, who told a customer, who was a Fire Nation servant - specifically Prince Zuko’s servant. He passed on the news of the Avatar’s most recent location. 

“The Avatar is on Kyoshi Island?!” Zuko yelled in a demanding tone while holding the servant by the collar. “Where did you hear this from?!” “Th-The shopkeep! She said she heard it from the fishermen from Kyoshi!” He sputtered out, turning pale in fear at his anger. Zuko scoffed and shoved the man to the ground, stalking over to his uncle. His uncle was sipping his tea. “Uncle, ready the rhinos. She is not getting away from me again!” He hissed walking out of the room. 

Kyoshi Island was utterly beautiful to you, breathtaking even. You took in a deep inhale of the fresh air, the scent of pine greeting your nose. You sighed happily and turned around to the feast the Kyoshi villagers prepared for you. They were celebrating the arrival of the Avatar. The Kyoshi statue got a new coat of paint too, just in your honor. This was supposed to feel good right? You were being treated like a celebrity, but this wasn’t meant for you. It felt so wrong. But you couldn’t seem ungrateful. You weren’t! In fact, you appreciated the hospitality of these people that were hidden from the world. 

Momo sat perched upon your shoulder as you began to eat. You handed him a few pieces of bread and berries, in which you got a happy chirp in response. You noticed Katara wasn’t eating, so you nudged her gently. “Why aren’t you eating?” You asked softly, “Your brother seems to enjoy it.” You giggled softly gesturing to Sokka, who had his face stuffed with all types of food. Katara giggled as well rolling her eyes. “I don’t know...I’m not very hungry.” She shrugged and began to pick at her bowl of rice with a pair of chopsticks. 

The feast spread was almost as beautiful as the land. The table was spread several feet long, three other tables lined up in sections in front of it. Despite the small island, it had a fairly big population. Each table had the same spread. A roasted pig, two roasted chickens, three big bowls of mashed potatoes and corn, a bowl of white rice, noodles, and three roasted salmon and coy. It all looked so delicious, but you stuck with the vegetable-based foods. Momo helped a few little girls pick berries for the two of you, and that made you very happy. People who didn’t even know you, welcomed you with open arms. It warmed your heart. 

After the feast, the sun started to set, beginning the party. Drums, flutes, and clapping to the beat. Everyone was so happy with the Avatar arriving. Their savior. You spent the night dancing with the children, showing them some air-based dance moves. Then everything started to wind down, people going back to their homes to sleep. You, Sokka, and Katara were given a small and empty home, and it was since. You held Appa by the reins as you led him to a forestry area behind the home. “Goodnight, big guy.” You whispered, kissing the furry creature before heading inside. 

Sokka had already passed out from a food coma, so it was just you and Katara awake. Katara was currently making her small cot. “Hey, Katara?” You asked softly while you laid on your own cot. She responded with a small hum as she finally finished fluffing her pillows. You chewed on the inside of your cheek and let out a sigh as you stared at the ceiling. “I don’t...I don’t think I deserve any of this. The praise, parties...people acting like I am a celebrity.” You spoke, your voice soft, not wanting to wake up Sokka and Momo. Katara laid on her cot and stared at the ceiling as well. 

“I understand this must be new to you. You were frozen for a hundred years. You’re still adjusting.” Katara explained, her gentle voice soothing you. “I know you must be overwhelmed.” You sighed and turned so your back was facing Katara, but you were facing sleeping Sokka. “I just feel like...I don’t belong here.” You whispered, eyes slowly closing shut as you fell into the realm of unconsciousness. 

Your body felt like it was floating. You looked around seeing stars and a small glowing path...weird. You took a deep breath and took a step forward. Your footprint glowed softly, illuminating your bath. You could hear your heart pounding in your chest. “You don’t belong here.” It was Aang’s voice again. You looked around for the source, then finally saw him walking towards you, his steps glowing as well. You gulped, “I-I know I don’t...But I don’t know how to get home-” “You stole MY destiny!” He yelled stepping closer, you two were three feet apart. “I know!” You yelled back, now getting irritated at the 12-year-old. “Then go home!” You clenched your fist closing your eyes tightly. There was the sound of an alarm clock going off. The sound got closer and closer. Your head started to pound as it got closer. “Just shut up!” You screamed. 

The birds were singing and chirping outside as your eyes shot open. You were in a cold sweat, your chest rising and falling at an erratic rate. Your eyes scanned the room, landing on the lemur sitting on your chest. You screamed and fell off of the bed with a thud. When your body hit the floor you groaned, rubbing your temples. Footsteps entered the house, multiple in fact. “Y/N! Are you okay?!” It was Sokka. You looked up, squinting. It turned out, however, to not be Sokka. The Kyoshi Warriors stood above you. You looked around, and then saw him. Sokka was decked out in a Kyoshi uniform and their customary makeup. “Oh my, Sokka!” You started to laugh. It was a good change; you needed a laugh after that dream. “Yeah yeah, I’m a Warrior now.” Sokka grumbled, helping you up to your feet. You yawned and stretched once you were on your feet. “How long was I asleep? I don’t remember Katara having an older sister.” You teased but your fun was cut short. 

“Come out Avatar!” Shit. They found you. You gulped and headed towards the door, but Sokka blocked you. “No, Y/N. We can’t let you get captured again. You barely survived last time.” Suki smiled proudly, “We have been training for this day. Don’t worry, Avatar.” She smiled and led everyone out. No way in hell were you endangering the people who welcomed you so warmly. These people have stayed away from the Fire Nation for a hundred years, you weren’t about to ruin that streak. 

You grabbed your staff and looked outside the window. The Kyoshi were up in the trees, waiting for their chance. Zuko and his soldiers started to drag people out of their homes. You gripped your staff and walked out. “I’m right here.” You glared at the Prince, your eyes filled with anger. Zuko turned to you with a snarl and death glare. “Well here’s the Avatar. You won’t get away this time.” He hissed and started to charge at you. “I won’t let you terrorize innocent people.” You yelled, twirling your staff and sending a gust of wind at Zuko.

Zuko didn’t lose his stance. Huh. Impressive. You smirked at him, which only irritated him more. He let out a battle cry and sent blasts of fire your way. You thought you could dodge it in time. You were half right. One of the blasts lit the fabric near your right hip aflame. You hissed in pain as the fabric burned away, and the fire burned your skin. “Son of a bitch.” You hissed and glared at Zuko. Anger filled your body and your eyes. Your e/c orbs are filled with anger. “Fuck you.” You hissed and used your staff to knock Zuko off of his feet. 

Zuko grunted as he hit the floor. You glared at him and got up, using your cane as a staff of some sort. He grabbed your ankle causing you to fall onto the coarse dirt. Your chin hit the sharp end of a few rocks, cutting it open slightly. You saw the red liquid drip onto the dirt. You let out a scream of frustration and kicked at Zuko’s head. “You asshole!” You yelled as Katara came to your aid, Sokka already on Appa with Momo.

“Hurry and get on!” Sokka yelled as the bison flew down. Katara helped you onto the creature. Zuko glared as Appa flew away. “Everyone back on the ship! Do not lose sight of them!” He ordered and stalked back to the ship, wiping his now bleeding nose. 

“This isn’t over, Avatar.” 

A/N: A special thanks to @imagine-yourself-happy​ for editing this chapter for me! I hope you all enjoyed it.

Taglist;

@imagine-yourself-happy @lilmou5ie @toobsessedsstuff @bluecrystals01 @foolishgang @alrightberries @cheyenne-dunn-universe @givemetundies @anxietyriddledcollegekid @gra-hamcrackers @marionette-ghoulette @miracle-rat @bangtanboyswriting123 @wattpadwaterandfire @hopelessly-hopeful-hope @alexander-the-great32105 @panini-the-bird-killer @gabsanc

[kacchaneatsass]

heyyy can i request bakugou, iida, tsuyu & jirou reacting to being paired with their crush for a project and they have to spend a lot of time alone together and maybe cute//nsfw stuff happens? c: also i hope youre doing well ily

Its nice to be back to all my babeys : TOP TWO ARE SFW HEADCANNONS, BOTTOM TWO ARE KINDA NOT <3 i may or may not have twisted it a little so they weren't all exactly the same, but I hope you like them anon!!!! Biiiiiig exhale lmao i spent way to long on this ish also just saying the smut kiiiinda sucks cause I haven't written smut in a whole while ALSO I APLAGIZE CAUSE I MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE ACCIDENTALLY FALLEN ASLEEP INSTEAD OF FINISHING WRITING THUS LIKE I SAID CAUSE IM A DWEEB

Tsuyu Asui

She wasn't expecting you to say YES when she invited you over to study

I mean

Not that she was complaining

And the first half hour went well! Lots of studying, flashcard making, and quizzing

And then you got bored

First it was footsies, just kicking each other playfully

And then you rolled over onto your back and laid your head in her lap and her heart nearly exploded out of her chest

Typically shes blunt, its just in her nature, but she didnt want to mess this up

She didnt know how you felt about her, and if it meant losing these little moments with you then she was fine never telling you about her feelings

When you let her card her fingers through your hair, she almost died on the spot when you slowly fell asleep

Jirō Kyoka

Yeah, it was supposed to be studying

Was any studying actually done?

Not in the slightest

As soon as you entered her room, you were already bouncing around and looking at all of her instruments

(She has a ton)

She quickly takes this as an opportunity to show off to you, and offers to teach you how to play some

Guitar is your first pick, seeing as its one of Kyoka's favorites

She loves being able to guide your fingers into place, just the gentle touches sending her heart racing

But you cant seem to get the strumming pattern down

So, without completely thinking, she wraps her legs around you and straddles your waist from behind, reaching around to move your hands

When she realizes what shes just done, she freezes, but you show no signs of discomfort and she slowly lets herself relax a little

With her left hand guiding your fingers to the strings, her right hand grasps yours and she helps you strum along correctly

You unintentionally let your body lean back into hers, your hair brushing her nose, and she melts

Does everything in her power stay like this for the rest of the night, teaching you how to play the guitar while hugging you from behind

Bakugō Katsuki

It wasn't an odd occurance to see you wandering around the dorms near Bakugou's room, books in hand and a pencil trapped between your teeth. It was common knowledge that not only were you Bakugou's significant other, but you were struggling in the grades department. As your boyfriend was the number one academic in your class, you often found yourself asking him for help, which he never rejected.

Which was why, as you again hovered near Bakugou's door at 8 at night with a stack of physics textbooks in hand, no one took the time to question it.

"Get the fuck in here, shitty girlfriend."

You didn't have time to react as the door swung open, your violent boyfriend grabbing your arm and yanking you inside, slamming the door behind you. "Hey!"

He huffed, throwing himself onto his bed, "chapter 6, section 2. Open up, we've got a long night ahead of us."

You sighed, moving to sit next to him on the bed. "You know I hate this, I just can never understand anything. It's so hard! When will we ever need physics? I'm not going to be a physicist, I'm going to be a pro hero!"

He grabbed your arm, yanking you down to lie next to him, his hand swinging across your abdomen. "Because it's important, and smart people know it. You wanna be smart, right? Smart enough to be a shitty pro hero? Then you have to learn fucking physics."

You could only roll your eyes at his vulgar language, taking the chance to cuddle into his side, suddenly aware of the heat bubbling in your stomach. "Then show me, huh? Newton's laws. Isn't one of them that if somethings in motion it stays in motion?"

He shifted to look over at you, blonde hair pressed flat to the bedspread. "Yeah, the fucking first law, dumbass. We went over this last week."

You tilted yourself forward, letting your tongue glide over your lip. "Show me the first law, then. Motion."

Katsuki grinned in response, finally catching onto your words. "Or, maybe it would be better to review his third law?"

You cocked your head, breaking concentration for a moment. "Third law?"

Quicker then you could think, he had you flipped on your back while he pinned you, a grin plastered on his pale face. "Newtons Third Law of Motion. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction."

Katsuki's lips were on yours in an instant, hips grinding down against your own in an effort to create friction. Not that you particularly minded, your hands dipping around the back of his neck to pull him flush to your own body.

His lips left yours with a resounding pop, tracing butterfly kisses along your jaw and down to your neck, his body shifting to bite harshly into your shoulder. He groaned through his teeth at your yelp of pain, grinding his hips down harder.

"You like that, huh, slut?" His tounge dipped between thinned lips, lapping at the blood he had drawn, "you like when I mark you?"

You didn't have a chance to respond as his lips captured yours once more, his sweaty palms slinking under your shirt to palm at your chest, a growl bubbling deep in his throat. The gargled moan that left your throat encouraged him onwards, your hips rutting up to meet his own.

He released his hold on your lips, slipping backwards down the bed to rest at the hem of your pants, lithe fingers toying with your waistband. "Ya' like this reaction?"

A hiss escaped your lips as he, again, left you with no time to respond. He buried his face between your thighs, nose brushing your clit through the fabric of your pants, hot breaths warming the space between you. He was certainly taking his sweet time, fingertips ghosting over your thighs.

A huff escaped your lips, your patience running thin quicker then he expected. "Kat, c'mon-"

The whines that escaped you as you tried to rut against his face forced his half mast cock to full attention, pressing harshly into the matress. A snarl ripped from his lips as he yanked your pants to your ankles, giving you seconds to kick them off as he fiddled with his belt, attempting to remove his own pants.

He only got the waistband to mid-thigh before your hands were on him again, grabbing at his forearms and pulling him closer. Katsuki took no time to prepare you as he spread your legs, lining himself up before burying his throbbing cock in your heat. "Fuckin' slut, huh?" His hands travelled as his hips pistoned into you, moving to pull off your shirt, "you like my dick splittin' you don't you?"

You could only nod, gasps and mewls leaving your mouth. When a particularly rough thrust brushed your g spot, his spare hand flew to your mouth, covering it harshly.

"Shut up, we're in the fucking dorms. Don't need you moaning like a fucking porn star." The hand he was using to hold himself above you shifted, gripping at your hair as his thrusts quickened, your stifled moans growing louder as the knot in your abdomen grew and grew. Bakugou's hot breath swept across your face, thr smell of gunsmoke and burnt pine filling your senses in a way only he could. "Fuck, I'm gonna-"

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as the knot in your stomach snapped, your orgasm washing over you. Katsuki followed shortly after, pulling out just to shoot ropes of cum across your chest, his eyes half lidded as he held onto his high for as long as possible.

Iida Tenya

This was one of the few times where Tenya Iida wasn't going at supersonic speed to finish the work for the project, and the simple reason as to why happened to be sitting next to him with a pencil trapped between their teeth.

You would occasionally scribble down a few more notes, your handwriting still as illegible as ever, but he found it harder and harder to take his eyes off of you. From the way you tapped your fingers on your thigh, to the way you occasionally scratched at your head, or even the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed. He was absolutely enamoured, not that he would ever tell you that.

"So, should we just print the excerpts? Neither of us have great handwriting-" you paused as you looked up, catching Iida's eye and blinking widely as a deep blush spread across his face.

"T-that sounds great!"

You blinked owlishly again, staring at the class president who seemed to have suddenly developed a stutter. "Iida-kun, are you okay?"

He swallowed thickly, trying to will away both his newfound stutter as well as his ever growing blush. "I'm f-fine! Thank you for worrying!" He moved to jot down another note, managing to drop his pencil in the process. Mumbling anxiously under his breath, he moved again to try and pick it up.

The unfortunate part fell in that exact moment, as you took notice and went to grab his pencil for him. Your heads collided, the force of your elder classmate sending you to the floor. You reached for purchase, only succeeding in grabbing the collar of Iida's shirt and pulling him down on top of you, the air squeezed from your lungs under the weight of your class president.

"Y-(y/n)! My apologies, I-I-"

The goofy smile, along with your giggling made him freeze, staring down at you with wide eyes as he held himself up on his elbows. "You're such a dork." Before he properly had time to register the situation, you had tightened your hold in his collar and pulled him towards you, placing your lips on his.

He blinked widely, stayiny frozen for a moment, before he finally allowed himself to melt into your touch, returning the gentle movement of your lips on his.

When you both pulled back, eyes still closed in bliss, his breath shuddered from his throat. "I like you."

Another giggle escaped you, and he allowed himself to open his eyes. You stared up at him, eyes half lidded in a way that made him want nothing more then to capture your lips in his own again.

"I like you too, Iida-kun."

"Call me Tenya." The words came out before he could think of what to say, and then his lips were back on yours.

The jaw dropping feeling of your tongue dipping from between your teeth to poke at his own mouth had the blood in his body ghosting downwards. He, of course, obliged and let himself melt further into the kiss as he moved both of you up into a sitting position.

The tension between your bodies began to grow, one of his hands drifting down to your waist while the other wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into him. Your hands fluttered around his shoulders, fingers leaving delicate touches along his collarbone and the crook of his neck, causing him to struggle for air.

You pulled away, leaving Tenya's mouth still open while his eyes hung half lidded, the pure list radiating off of him spurring the dripping heat between your thighs. "You have condoms anywhere?"

He nodded absentmindedly, eyes drifting to where you had started to unbutton your own shirt unbeknownst to him, the sight of your cleavage making his hips buck involuntarily. He reached into the bedside drawer, pulling the silvery wrapping with him before handing it to you, obviously not sure what to do.

You took the absolute melting of his brain as a sign to not only continue, but to lead. You let your habds ghost over his chest, making quick work of his tie. Lithe fingers started popping his buttons one by one, your lips finding purchase at the newly revealed skin, tongue gliding across the toned muscles.

The small huffs of satisfaction spurred you forward, sliding his shirt from his shoulders as you moved onto his pants, removing them in due time to leave him in his boxers. He lifted his hips to let you remove them, and you followed suit by disposing of your own clothing.

Tenya stared on in awe, eyes glazed at the sight of your bare body laid out for him. His mind melted as he watched you slip the edge of the wrapper between your teeth and rip it open, taking out the rubber and sliding it down his exposed member.

The small 'fuck' that escaped his lips at the contact made you shudder, his hands moving to your shoulders as he flipped the two of you over, his knees now resting between your legs. "Are you sure this is alright?"

You said nothing, simply reaching out to draw his lips back to yours. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't."

He nodded, letting out the breath he had been holding, and shifted to position himself near your cunt. "Ready?"

Your answer came in the drifting of your hand downwards, locking with his hand to help guide him inside you. You both let out porn-worthy groans as he quickly bottomed out.

His teeth attached to your shoulder, biting through the skin before licking away the rising blood. "I hope you know, this is gonna be a long night."

[yeosanqtuary]

with u - pt. 9

☆ - list of chapters

☆ - all content are fictional.

“yeah, night,”

--

that morning, the four friends all left the house together under the constant nagging of seonghwa who had insisted that they go to school together on their ‘first day’ as roommates. 

yeosang hadn’t came to greet him yet, so he was expecting some kind of a surprise. something that would make san mentally shout, “stop scaring the heck out of me!”.

he wasn’t really looking forward to that. the only thing he was looking forward to was to perhaps have another wave of pain so he could finally find his soulmate. 

he decided to start now, on the streets as they were walking to school. 

“hey, hongjoong hyung. can you say yunho?” he nudged hongjoong. who was just standing beside him. “yunho? why?”

“nothing, just trying to see something,” he waited for a few seconds, then it was up to a minute, two minutes, three minutes... did he have a condition too? or maybe it’s not yunho. yes, that must be it. if he had a condition, yeosang would tell him in the first place, right?

“hyung, can you say mingi now?” he nudged hongjoong again and this time he answered without asking. kids these days... trying to find your soulmate like this...

san waited again and did not give up after waiting for five minutes. 

“who else is there...” he pondered, knitting his brows together. 

“don’t you have other friends?” seonghwa asked.

“um...” san treid his best to recall the other names he had seen from the virtual information board. he could’ve pulled it up right now and asked either of them to say out their names, but sadly he didn’t know how. he blames this on yeosang for not telling him the essentials.

information board!

virtual screen!

open seseame!

none of those worked, unfortunately. 

“you really have no friends?” seonghwa asked again. 

“a-ah, no, i’m just thinking of who would be more suitable for me, haha,” san replied awkwardly, his hand going up to rub his nape. he racked his brain again, trying to recall a random name.

“ah! moon taeil! from that, that uh...” he shut his eyes tight, gathering all of his concentration to remember which hecking class this moon taeil guy was from. 

“he’s a senior, class 3A,” hongjoong finished his sentence and patted san’s back. “you don’t have to search like this. what’s the rush? just sit back and enjoy single life before it ends,” he casually said, all this while holding onto seonghwa’s pinky. 

“what? hearing you say this... are you already tired of me?” seonghwa had leaned into his side, intertwined their hands and looked deeply into his eyes. hongjoong was embarrassed and was quick to explain himself. “i-i’m not! i just t-think that san would be someone who cherishes single life,”

wooyoung covered his mouth and giggled sneakily, but san had seen all of it. he smiled at the couple and placed his arm around him, the other tucked away into his pocket. wooyoung flinched a little from the sudden contact and kept his eyes on the ground. 

“how about you? do you want to find your soulmate soon?”

“mhm, i-i do, but...” he started to fiddle with his thumbs–something he would do when he was nervous or uncertain. “b-but i think they wouldn’t like me very much. i d-don’t think i deserve one,”

“wooyoung-ah, you’ve done nothing wrong! you most certainly deserve someone’s love and attention. if i must say, your soulmate doesn’t deserve you,” san comforted, moving his arm down to pat his back. “cheer up, woo,” he raised his other arm up from the warmth of his pocket and gently pinched wooyoung’s cheeks, warming up his fingers once again. and his heart too, maybe. 

wooyoung’s heart started to race. this contact was a little... too close? no one had ever done this to him, since he was always alone most of the time, or surrounded with people who were just using him to climb the reputation ladder. 

a certain someone who was standing a meter away from the two was snickering in his mind. it was just too funny to hear that last sentence from san. that, “your soulmate doesn’t deserve you,” sentence. as someone who can predict soulmates as accurate as the bus arrival timing system, this is kinda entertaining, but at the same time agonising to watch. 

imagine having to watch the pining of two oblivious sooulmates...

--

“h-hello, everyone. my name is kang yeosang. please take care of me,” angel boy has finally showed himself, standiong at the front of homeroom class, but looking like... a girl?

is this yeosang or nah?

yeosang, do you copy? am i looking at you in class right now? or am i just trppin’ and should’ve heard kang yeoja or ???

choi san, i’m gonna drop your ass right now.

ah, okay –. so this is really yeosang!

“okay, let’s see, who had an empty seat?” 

“i do! here, yeosang!” an entirely enthusiastic mingi waved his hands around violently, trying to get yeosang’s attention. san snickered, whilst yeosang looked over to observe yunho’s reaction. it was... bland. lack of taste. too unexciting. 

was he really unbothered? listening to jongho’s rants, he was quite active in flirting with mingi. perhaps he was just holding back?

“okay! mingi it is. would you also please show yeosang around?”

“yes-”

“sorry sir, but can he bring me instead?” he asked politely, also politely pointing to san. 

“a-ah, if that’s what you want. are you okay with it, san?”

“totally. absolutely. would gladly show him around,” he replied, smirking at yeosang and earning a few curses back. meanwhile mingi was frozen, holding his hand and face in the same position and expression until yeosang came to his seat. 

“san’s gonna bully you for sure! no kidding! he’s like a two-faced smelly, poopy demon!” mingi whined, stomping his foot on the floor. 

“shut up, mingi! you’re better off with me during lunch,” yunho retaliated, shouting across the class.

“hmph! meanie yunho,” he crossed his arms and puffed up his cheeks, trying to act cute. ah, this is the bullshit you have to deal with everyday in homeroom. welcome to school, yeosang!

thank you, kind sir.

yeosang didn’t forget to observe yunho’s reactions all this while. he was smiling now and didn’t look as uninteresting as before. his cheeks had more colour this time, too. maybe he was blushing. great! they just need a little push. 

after homeroom was another two periods before lunch–history and chemistry. san would get to see wooyoung in both classes! he went up a level to wooyoung’s homeroom class, where history was held. 

wooyoung was speaking to his homeroom teacher, so his back was faced to the entrance, where san was standing. 

his indicator isn’t brown. he did a mental @ to yeosang. 

[whispering to @/choisan] and?

...and it means his soulmate isn’t near. it might really be one of the neighbours...

[whispering to @/dumbchoisan] lol. u’ll jst hafta wait n c

can you stop with this bullshit? just speak normally, stop sending those pop-up texts like we’re in a pc game!

okay, okay, sorry san. geez. 

san sighed, deciding to indulge himself in his sad thoughts. 

he knows he shouldn’t completely trust wooyoung’s faulty indicator, but he just can’t help but think of the unimagineable. what if, that night they return home and the first thing he sees is his indicator turning brown?

san would really cry. 

no, but... it isn’t like he’s attached to him or something. he just finds him cute, that’s all. nothing else. it’s not like he likes him...

“hey, san. jungwoo asked me to switch places with him,” it was wooyoung, who was currently setting his things on the table beside san’s. he settled down after arranging his things, 

“i-i’ve never said you can sit,” 

“then where else should i sit?”

san looked around the crowded room. there were a few empty desks right at the back of the class, but they were dusty as heck. not good. 

“here, then,” he sighed and got out his books for the lesson. 

the teacher hadn’t arrived and wooyoung laid his head on the table, maybe deciding to take a short nap. he didn’t really get enough sleep last night in the new environment. plus, san had constantly invaded his thoughts, making it harder to fall asleep.

seeing that wooyoung had laid down, a playful idea slipped into his mind. 

he laid his head on the table too and faced wooyoung, staring at his head. more specifically, observing the way his hair was wavy and shiny. it looked super silky and smooth that one wouldn’t even need to touch it to know that it’s smooth. 

he kept on observing for what seemed like forever, but was actually a few minutes before wooyoung had turned his head to the left, facing san. 

wooyoung’s eyes were still closed. san silently wowed at the length of his eyelashes, pushing down the urge to touch them.

a few strands of hair on the crown of his head had rose due to the wind, making it look like there was a small weed growing on the top of his head. his cheeks were squished together, making his lips look plumper(?) and more attractive than usual, as if it was inviting san to place a kiss on it. 

“alright, class! sorry for the delay! i was held up by...”

san ignored every other voice and continued observing–no, admiring–wooyoung’s face. 

wooyoung, on the other hand, had started to stir in his sleep. 

san smiled and watched as wooyoung’s eyes fluttered open slowly. they made eye contact, but he didn’t really seem shocked that he was greeted by san’s gaze immediately. or rather, it felt like he had expected for it to happen and was anticipating for it. 

“our lovely choi san and wooyoung, good morning, both of you!” the teacher’s loud, gruff voice brought the both of them back into reality. san had raised his head and looked around, cracking his stiff neck in the process. everyone had their eyes on them and he couldn’t help but blush. 

he stood up awkwardly, rubbing his nape. he turned sideways slightly to observe wooyoung’s reaction and coincidently, wooyoung was facing him, too. he immediatey turned away in panic, feeling dumb, embarrassed and awkward. 

what have i done???

next ->

[gwilymz]

As It Began

Brian May x Fem!Reader

Summary: Brian is twenty-three and working at earning his PhD when he meets you--coy and effortlessly beautiful--in an elective literature course. He’s infatuated by your inattentiveness to him, and he has never wanted anybody or anything more than he wants you.

Word Count: ...12,129.... (i said she was long)

Warnings: Pining, angst, sadness, lust, flirting, (kind of) cheating, filthy sex (unprotected, mutual masturbation, oral) --she has everything

The last bit of summer was dwindling as the days became shorter, the sun seeming to extinguish itself perpetually before nine. Brian looked through his window, down upon the streets of London as yellow raincoats and soggy boots sloshed through glassy rain, the city lights haloed upon grease-slicked streets. He had to focus extra hard to see anything else than his quite bemused-looking reflection, glaring through the cold window as if his sharp nose was pressed against a personal black mirror, and not his bedroom window, where rain was slapping against the glass with such force it made him wince--he got jumpy at night.

But nine was barely night; Brian had made do with the sunken bags which hung under his eyes like a speckled nest where his sleeplessness gathered into shades of pinks and purples, luckily barely visible from his freckled tan, deep from the sunny breezes in Tenerife which kissed his cheeks, cascaded down his languid body.

He’d spent the summer on the humid, lush fields in Tenerife, stammering through Spanish and squinting through poorly-assembled lenses and telescopes borrowed from the university--that the department only let him have after filling his ears with passive threats. They knew Brian would never disrespect their property; he couldn’t disrespect anything if he tried.  

And now, his hands were dry from that quintessentially summer sun as he traced the rain droplets that trembled from the slope of the shingled roof, wishing he could feel the water seep into his pores, so he could think about anything else, other than the oppressing anxiety of his next journey that would surely immortalize those sunken eyes of his. He was going to start his studies for his PhD the next day, his father’s urging. And while of course Brian wanted to continue his studies as well, his stomach felt tightly-wound and his fingers trembled like the rain on the window as he thought about the work, the classes, the time he would have to inevitably spend on school. He was lucky enough to have received a full scholarship for his PhD, but left the endeavor feeling more forced upon him than his father’s dreams of him did. His work at his undergraduate studies was impeccable; he received almost perfect marks and he spent the weekends teetering between two very antithetical sides of himself. One weekend Brian would be sat on a rooftop with his college friends, their hair mussed from the mid-summer’s breeze, stringy from the wind pulling the strands apart as they quarreled about angular measurements and accuracy. And the next weekend he’d have eyeshadow firmly packed onto puffy eyelids as he tried to maneuver his bony hands over his guitar, his flowy sleeves like wings which seemed to take him to a more natural state of himself, where the expectations for him weren’t so serious.

His eyes began to flutter shut, the London traffic becoming a sort of lullaby for him as he laid down on his bed, which sat against the window. His sheets were crisp and cold, and his teeth chattered as he pulled a fleece blanket of his over him, up to his shoulders. He leaned over to his bedside table and fiddled with his alarm clock, his white nail polish glowing by the yellow street lights which gleamed through the window beside him. He set the clock for 8:30 AM precisely; his elective literary studies class beginning an hour later.

__

“Brian, would you turn the fucking alarm off?” Roger rattled the doorknob before turning it swiftly and flipping the light switch on and off, on and off.

Brian groaned, pulling his flattened pillow over his face, his hair sloppy from sleep. “What are you talking about, Roger?”

“Your bloody alarm has been blaring for almost half an hour; you woke us all up, we thought we were going crazy!” Roger yanked the cord of the clock, sighing in relief as the sharp ringing finally stopped echoing through his ears.

“Half an hour?” Brian sat up, rubbing his eyes. He did the math quickly, despite remaining half asleep. “Shit!” He thrust himself out of bed, his comforter promptly falling to the wooden floors as he realized class started in less than thirty minutes.

“My alarm was going off for half an hour and you never bothered to wake me?” Brian glared at Roger, who was laying on Brian’s naked bed, his hands woven together, resting on his chest as he looked at the ceiling.

“Not my job to wake you up, Bri. You’re twenty three. Why was your alarm even set?” He furrowed his eyebrows, interrogating Brian, who struggled to button his flared trousers due to his shaky hands.

“You waited fucking half an hour! Now I’m going to be late and it’s my first day!” Brian stood in front of a mirror which hung by his closet, mussing his hair in an attempt to somehow reverse how messy it looked already, loose curls arranged in awry tufts.

“First day for what?” Deaky walked in, his feet padding against the cold floors. He was wearing his boxers and a baggy t-shirt, his voice groggy from a restless slumber.

“University! I’m still going to school, remember? I’ve only told you on about eight different occasions.” Brian shrugged a white button-up on, not bothering to fasten it all the way; he didn’t have time. He turned his necklace around on his thin neck so the chain was positioned as he wanted it to be.

“Right. Well you definitely told us that while we were pissed off our asses.” Roger had plugged Brian’s alarm clock back into the wall, and was attempting to set it to the correct time again by looking at a watch of Brian’s sitting beside it.

“Whatever. What time is it, Rog?” Brian yawned, pulling a light jacket on as he sat on his bed, scouring the floor for socks to wear. He found a navy blue one an a black one and decided those colors were similar enough to count as matching.

“Quarter past nine.” He pat the clock gently as he finished setting it.

“Fuck.” Brian piled his books into his arms and shoved them into his school bag before grabbing a dull pencil and tucking it behind his ear, the yellow barrel obscured by his thick curls.

“Bri we’re recording a demo at five tonight. Bring your guitar; you always forget it and we’re too fucking poor to wait on you like last time and waste our rental money.”

Brian glared at Roger and slung his guitar case over his shoulder, his school bag hanging heavy on his other one. He was embarrassed to be bringing his bulky instrument on his first day of classes, and was on the verge of anxiety-induced tears by the thought of being late on the first day where school was actually meant to be real and professional and for something.

He strolled through the streets taking wide and sure strides, staring at his watch so often he mumbled ‘sorry’ to quite a few strangers as his guitar case knocked into their sunken shoulders. It was almost half-past, and his shoes were caked in a thin, rain diluted mud, making his presence on the street that much more palpable, a constant reminder that he was late. He was walking against the wind, and his eyes were squinting, his breath caught, frozen in his nostrils and trapped in his throat as the heavy air blocked his lungs.

He ran to the liberal arts building, his guitar hitting against the ridges of his spine as he dodged leisured students who were chatting through the corridors. His watch read nine thirty-four, and he bit his lip as his knuckles rapped against the cherrywood door of the classroom, his metal rings making a clean, tinny sound against it. He had always prided himself on being on time to school. He was always waiting by the door, sitting on a small glossy wooden bench as his foot tapped in tune to the clicking of his watch, waiting for the hour to strike. He hated being late, and he was attempting to rehearse what he was going to say, when the professor opened the door, pursing her thin lips, which she painted red, probably in an attempt to reassure herself that her youth wasn’t completely lost.

She rose her thin, almost semicircular eyebrows, opening the door wider for Brian to come in. When she saw his guitar case, she scoffed, and Brian’s face reddened, feeling her judgement as his professor looked him up and down, noting his disheveled hair, his exposed chest, tight pants, muddy shoes. Brian sauntered through the door, trying his best to look cool and relaxed, channeling his on-stage persona which was admittedly hard to summon when seventy-five colleges students were staring at him as if he were an unworthy specimen.

“This isn’t a music studio, I hope you know that much--,” She paused, looking at her roster, waiting for Brian to fill in the blank. He stood in front of the rows of seats, and he finally understood why students were referred to as pupils; he felt more than one hundred of them watching his every move, amused by his perturbation.

“Brian. May.” He straightened his back, trying to get his guitar to fall more comfortably on his body; it was starting to make his back ache. He continued, trying to redeem himself, but it presented itself as a lost cause. “I know it’s not uh--a music studio. My band has a recording session after my classes today. I wouldn’t normally be so--late. And messy.” He added, shaking his head slightly to move his hair out of his face, even though he wanted nothing more than to hide behind it.

The class snickered, their chairs orchestrating a symphony of screeching against the paneled floors as they stifled laughs at Brian’s embarrassment.

“Well, keep your guitar by the door, so people can actually see the lecture you’ve so kindly interrupted.” Brian quickly pulled the strap over his head, his hair bouncing back into its place--not that it really had a place on his head. Each strand fell on his face--upon his brow, differently every day. “You can sit down next to Y/N Y/L/N. She’s front and center. Can’t hide in the back when you fail to be on time.”

Brian’s eyes followed the professor’s--who he learned was named professor Lee--perks of standing beside her desk for over two minutes; he counted on his watch. You sat exactly where she said, and you were looking at him with concern, your legs crossed over one another as your sneaker-covered feet bobbed up and down. You were wearing a casual dress with black tights, your shoulders covered by a thick coat. You were drawing swirls along the curved corners of your notebook, your fingers tracing over the metal spiral simultaneously. Your eyes were boring into his, your lip sucked between your teeth nervously. Brian’s eyes widened as he took in your features, the easiness of them making him nervous to sit down next to a creature so beautiful, and effortlessly so. Your hair cascaded perfectly, falling in a way that was completely opposite of his own. His shoulders fell as he took his school bag off, setting it on the floor next to yours. You gave him a genuine smile, your eyes crinkling, eyebrows framing the grin flawlessly. He smiled back, canines poking through bitten, wind-chapped lips. Brian stretched his legs as he slyly buttoned his shirt up a bit more, feeling out of place in a room full of pristinely dressed, serious students. He always identified as a serious student, but his confidence was severely off-kilter because of just  how much he stood out. HIs hair wasn’t gelled down, he didn’t wear a nice tie, or tailored trousers. His nails were painted, fingers adorned with silver rings, still cold to the touch. He had grown more comfortable with feeling uncomfortable--different--because he had to as a performer. He’d learned to embrace his style, which would forever be more akin to his musical persona than his studious, scientific one. But sitting next to the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, he wished he could have made himself a worthy contender of getting to know you. He wished he wouldn’t have embarrassed himself so much, made himself look uncaring, stupid. He wanted to promise you:  yes, I’m smart! I care so much about this; I’m not normally like this!

But he pulled his own journal out, fresh and leather bound, a gift from his father for enrolling into university once again, almost as soon as the accomplished glow of graduation wore from his face, the happiness immortalized by hundreds of photos his mother insisted on taking. He reached behind his ear, in search of the pencil he had tucked there earlier. He couldn’t find it, and he desperately patted his pockets, rolling his eyes as he failed to find one in his bag as well. His heartbeat was warped, uneven as he leaned towards you, your perfume wafting into him, making him even more nervous, somehow. You felt his eyes on you, and saw him leaning in through your peripheral vision, so you turned your head to face him, taken aback by his big, hazel-but-leaning-towards-brown eyes, his eyelashes delicate, but heavy looking nonetheless. His nose was aquiline, curved and prominent, a centerpiece that accented the rest of him well. His bottom lip protruded as he asked you if you would so kindly spare him a pencil. Or pen; he specified he would be okay with any utensil.

You rummaged through your bag, handing him a purple pen, the plastic cap barely bitten, but you were a bit tentative on giving it to him. His fingers brushed against yours, and you noticed the size of his hands, the white nail polish, chipping along the edge of his nails as he took the pen from your loosening grasp.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He whispered, looking up at you through his impossibly long lashes, as he scribbled on the corner of the first page of his journal. The pen was dry, and Brian poked his tongue out, poking the tip of the ben with it, the sting of metal coursing through his mouth, making him wince a bit.

“No problem, Brian.” you uttered, watching as the ink began to flow upon the page, purple ink bleeding into illegible scribble as he focused on the lecture. You turned away and did the same, until the professor dismissed class, the students intuitively and synchronously gathering their things to leave. Brian was slower, not wanting to leave before you did. He mirrored your actions, filing his papers in a folder, closing his journal gently, pretending to be fascinated by a blank, speckled piece of paper inside of it. He only stood up to leave as you did. He halted by the door, where his guitar case sat, leaned against the edge of the chalkboard. He bent down, picking it up slowly, trying not to be too conspicuous with his side-eyed glances to you, as you smiled at a couple, letting them leave in front of you. You hung your head, messing with the hem of your dress, pulling a frayed string from the seam. Brian stood at the door, looking at the plethora of novels shoved into professor Lee’s wooden bookshelf that, uncoincidentally, matched the wood on the classroom door perfectly. Your pen was between his lips, protruding out like a long skinny and purple cigarette, as he feigned interest in whatever book cover caught his eye.

As you neared him, Brian’s stature improved, his back straightening although his lower back was tender from the weight of his many bags and cases. He quickly took the pen from out of his mouth, wiping the spit that gathered on the end on his sleeve.

“Sorry.” he handed the dried pen to you.

“Don’t worry about it.” Your fingers lingered on top of his as you took the pen back, sending a jolt up the back of your neck, and you shivered a bit.

As soon as you and Brian left the classroom, your friend’s arm was draped around your shoulder, leading you away from the bewildered face of Brian, standing in the hallway, looking like a sea of words were jumbled in his mouth, unable to get out.

__

“How was it?” Freddie took a sip from a half-drunk beer bottle, passed to him by Deaky. Brian was the last to arrive at the recording studio--his astronomy class was long and strenuous, but he felt a lot better, because that’s where he really fit in, where he knew what he was doing.

“Besides being late because you guys are assholes, it was fine.” He took his guitar out of its case and pulled the leather strap over his head, tracing the swirling designs which reminded him of the designs you drew in your tattered notebook.

“Darling, you’re getting your PhD. You’re smarter than all of us, so you can figure out how to wake your skinny ass up.” Freddie took another swig of beer, tilting his head back. His jaw was prominent, and his eyes were a bit puffy, like the rest of the band’s.

Brian sat down on the couch next to Roger, strumming, pulling each string, pronounced and harmonic as the melody thumped through the cigarette-smoke tainted air around them. It was impromptu; Brian came up with it on the spot, his mouth hung open as his coin plucked the strings, vibrations coursing through knobby fingers.

“That’s a nice sound, Bri.” Deaky scooted near him, and watched intently as Brian repeated it, his lip pulled taut between his teeth.

“Got lyrics for that? A composition?” Freddie set his bottle of beer down, standing up as the producers came in on time, for once.

“Uh--no. Just came up with it on the spot.”

“It would be a shame to waste that; it was gorgeous!” Fred pinched Brian’s cheek and pointed a finger at their two producers--short, burly men that contrasted from the band’s look. They looked tired, and annoyed by their liveliness, by their perpetual feelings of having nothing to lose--except for money.

They began recording a short EP, and it was a good day at the studio. Their voices meshed together, silk that was carefully threaded, impossible to pull apart, cohesive, but somehow still fragile and elegant. They never missed a beat, and their long nights of playing until their fingers were blistered and their voices shaky paid off.

The producer pulled his headphones off, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was smiling though, which was rare for his usually quite cold and harsh demeanor. “This is really strong, guys.” He said, his smile growing so his crooked teeth poked from under chapped lips. “I have a good feeling about this demo. Radio stations have a good chance of actually playing this.”

Brian nudged Roger, and they all began to celebrate, taking swigs from a flat bottle of beer sitting on the edge of a coffee table, scattered with playboys and time magazines--requests from both sides of the spectrum.

“But,” He finished, pointing a finger at them. “I think it would be better received if there were a slower song. Keep Yourself Alive and Liar are fantastic. And I love how My Fairy King slows it down a notch. But I think it needs one more strong song, just to show them you can do it, you know?”

They all nodded, understanding his point, and willing to follow whoever or whatever to the end of the earth if it meant they could gain a speck of recognition for over a year of musical differences, failed bookings, unimpressed record companies.

“Brian, maybe something with that guitar thing you did?” Roger suggested, pointing his almost-empty beer bottle at him, sitting on the arm of the couch, watching as the producers prodded with the controls, playing with the sounds.

“Yeah, I’ll try to come up with something.” He picked the chipping nail polish from his cuticles, trying to think about possible lyrics. But the thing about songwriting--writing in general--for Brian, was that it couldn’t be a forced act. It was like that for everybody, he thought. It had to come deep from the subconscious, the chambers of the heart, submerged in blood and vulnerability.

__

It was the third week of classes before he saw you again. You had been sick for a week--he didn’t ask you, or know for sure, but he could see it within the rawness on your nose, how your lips were chapped just slightly, your skin a tad paler. He shuffled in his seat as you sauntered towards yours. Brian’s smile faltered as he saw a hand resting on your lower back, against the suede of your coat, probably soft against his fingers. It was a guy he recognized; he sat a couple rows back. He was the complete opposite of Brian physically: more than a head shorter, neat, straight blond hair. He wore expensive suits to class, and wire rim glasses that looked outdated, but he also pulled them off nicely. He was more forward, his hand was tracing down your body, inching lower on your back, almost pulling at the top of your skirt. His name was Thomas, he believed--or maybe he went by Tommy. Brian’s gaze followed Tommy’s fingers, as they crawled towards your hips, digging into the soft skin before he kissed you softly. Brian quickly turned his way as his eyes met Tommy’s, instead looking at the door, watching the students trudge in, finding their seats as they shrugged off soaked coats, rubbing their hands together to create any kind of friction. He raised his eyebrows at Brian, hanging your coat on the back of your seat. Your lips pressed a firm kiss on his jaw as he stood up again, your dark lipstick staining his skin.

The lecture began, seemingly as soon as Brian tore his eyes from your profile. You could feel his stare, his jaw tensed. And then he looked away as professor Lee came in, setting her bag down before getting to her lecture, her dainty fingers holding a fresh piece of chalk, dry in her hands.

“We’re beginning our section on ballads today.” She scrawled the word in white, her handwriting lopsided, uppercase, angry. Brian covered his journal with his arm, writing your name on the top of the paper, so small he had to squint to make it out. He scribbled it out just as fast, realizing how stupid he was--a post-graduate student, a few years away from being Doctor May, pining over a girl who was dating his obverse, a guy he could never be--never wanted to be.

“I want you all to write a ballad or an ode. I want it to be abstract and complicated. It needs to be professional and serious--this isn’t just some entry level course. It should be done by the 2nd of October. I’m giving you almost a month, so be thorough, creative.” Professor Lee rubbed her hands together, a puff of powdered chalk billowing through the air as she dismissed the class.  Brian slammed his journal shut, pushing his pen behind his ear as he quickly packed his belongings; he had to go as soon as possible. He grabbed his bag quickly, shoving the journal inside along with his textbook, not caring that his paperback ripped a bit as the tough corner of his textbook nudged against it. Tommy was between your desk and Brian’s, his hands in his pocket as he waited for you to pack up your things. He adjusted his glasses as he made eye contact with Brian, Brian rolling his eyes the almost imperceptibly at his smug face, his expensively tailored shirt and silk tie.

“How did your recording session go?” Tommy asked, condescendingly, handing Brian a small paper he had dropped--a draft of a song he was writing. He snatched it from the shorter man’s hand and shoved it in his pocket.

“We recorded a demo. We’ll see if it gets anywhere; we just have to make some finishing touches.” Brian pursed his lips, his curls flopping as he picked his bag up. You and this Tommy--Brian still didn’t know if that was even his name--followed him as he left, almost mockingly. As if he were saying look, I have what you want. I’ll never let you forget it. Brian stood up taller, slowing down so he was walking next to you, your boyfriend on the other side, his arm around your waist, holding you tightly. You looked up at Brian as he spoke, more relaxed now, mellow and sultry.

“I’m hoping the demo is well-received. We worked really hard on it.”

What he said was innocent enough, but as you watched his face, his curls falling over his dilated eyes, his lip bitten, his shirt unbuttoned like always, you wondered what he was doing. His jaw clenched, and your face grew hot as his sleeve just barely brushed against yours; two whole layers in between making you imagine how touching his bare skin would feel--but you couldn’t do that. Brian opened the heavy door, leading outside where a persistent rain was cascading through the streets. The clouds were almost yellow, hazy, like the leaves which crunched beneath the feet of perturbed Londoners, shuffling past each other, shoulder-to-shoulder. He ushered you out, making sure that Tommy went first. Brian pressed a hand down on your shoulder, and the touch was firm, you felt it everywhere.

“Do you--” you began, pulling your hood up to cover your head, looking at Brian, angelic yet almost sinful to look at.

But he interrupted you, patting both your and Tommy’s shoulders as he raised a hand to greet a blond guy across the street, who was holding a cigarette between his lips, shielding it with jittery hands as he attempted to light it by the covered entrance of a restaurant.

“I’ve gotta go,” He grinned at you two, pointing a thumb across the puddled street. “See you guys next week?”

You nodded, a shiver rising up your back, not because of the cold, but because of Brian’s voice; you’d never noticed how nice it really was. You grabbed his wrist, and Tommy glared at you confused.

“Brian.” You said, assured. He quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve got an eyelash on your cheek.” You stood on your toes and plucked it off, the dark hair prominent against your fingertip. You held it in front of his lips. “Make a wish.” You nudged your finger forward, bumped by a stranger’s shoulder against your own. Your finger grazed against his bottom lip, just barely, as he blew his eyelash, watching as it was whisked away.  

Brian waved a goodbye at you, his ring shining under a particularly bright street light as he strode across the street, his hands now shoved deep in his pockets, his hands playing with the perforated edges of a song, hidden away.

___

That night left him sitting at his desk, his fingers gripping his pencil, which he forgot was behind his ear until Deaky teased him for it.

“You’re such a geek, with your pencil behind your ear. How studious you are.” He reached up and grabbed it, and Brian took it back, facetiously rolling his eyes.

Now, he used that pencil, tapping on the crumpled paper in front of him, the same piece that was tucked away in his pocket all day. It was a little soggy, but it would work well enough. The boys were bugging him to write a song, and he knew he had a ballad to write for class anyway. The rubber eraser was dull, completely flat and black, from all of the erasing, and it had grown shorter from how much he had used it. He leaned back on the legs of his desk chair, a mahogany wooden one his father made for him as a housewarming gift. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out the time on his alarm. His eyes focused, and he sighed deeply. It was nearing four AM, and he didn’t have a single, cohesive line written down. He turned off his desk lamp, the only light in his room from the stars, which seemed to be unusually bright, and unshrouded by heavy clouds, like they always were in London. Brian hugged his legs to his chest, looking out the window, his eyes glossed over, tired but unable to sleep. He picked the fuzz from his socks, taking a deep breath before dozing off, curled up tightly. The flat was empty; Deaky was at his girlfriends, Roger and Freddie out at the bars. But he sat alone, like always, cold.

__

The week elapsed quickly, and Brian hadn’t looked at the song--well the lack thereof--since shoving it in the depths of his school bag seven days before. That next Monday was sunnier than usual, and the flat was eclectic, even at ten AM--which was much earlier than the other three men would ever choose to wake up. They had a gig that night, only because a desperate pub owner’s former booking backed out after they all developed awful strep.

“What a blessing!” Freddie clapped his hands together, alluding to the other band’s sickness.

“Watch it, Fred. Karma’ll get you if you keep saying that shit.” Deaky rubbed his eyes, pulling socks on his feet, which looked numb.

“Oh, shut the hell up. We needed this.” Freddie poked Roger’s sides, sitting on his stomach, making the blond wince in pain. He groaned, pushing Freddie off of him, holding his stomach as he curled into himself. He was hungover from the night before; he and Freddie had stolen sips of uncountable martinis, whiskeys and gins at the bars the night before, and the concoction of it all seemed to be chemically reacting inside of him.

“Fuck, Fred. I won’t be able to play if you kill me.” He rolled over, shoving a throw pillow over his head. “Let me be.” His voice was muffled, his lips against the couch. “How are you even functioning, Freddie? You drank more than me.” His voice was barely intelligible, but Freddie understood perfectly well.

“It’s the adrenaline, sweets. Where’s Brian?” Freddie left Roger alone, walking over to his room. The door was shut, and Freddie, opened it, Deaky following behind him.

“He’s at uni to finish some astronomy thing so he can take the day off for the gig.” Deaky took a bite out of an apple.

“Chew it right in my ear, Deaky.” He rolled his eyes, and Deaky chewed more dramatically, directly into his ear as he ran away.

“You’re fucking deplorable, Deaks. Who raised you?” He giggled, taking another apple from their counter, biting into it just as pronounced, the juice dribbling down his chin. They heard keys jingling outside of the door, and Freddie looked through the tiny peephole, shoving Deaky aside so he could see first. But Deaky swung the door open.

“Bri!” He ruffled the taller man’s hair, and Brian pulled his bag off of his shoulder, dropping it on the ground by their coat rack, the hard books inside clunking against each other. “You ready for tonight?”

“I suppose. I’m a bit nervous; we haven’t really played in awhile.” He shut the door behind him, pulling his jacket off.

“DON’T FUCKING SLAM YOUR SHIT ON THE GROUND, BRIAN!” Roger screamed, groaning into the crevice of the couch.

“He’s hungover.” Freddie nodded, throwing the core of his apple into the trash, along with Deaky’s. “But he has to suck it up and get up! Because we have a show to put on at seven!” Freddie screamed towards the living area, and Roger’s feet twitched, startled by his voice.

“Get me about four painkillers and a cold glass of water and I’ll think about it.” Roger sat up, his eyes sunken and bloodshot, making the blues of his irises that much more pronounced. Brian reached into the cupboard and got him three painkillers.

“All we have left.” He confirmed shaking two other empty bottles of pills, tossing them away. Freddie handed him a glass of water, the ice clinking against the spotted glass.

Twenty minutes later, they were in the band van, Brian driving since he was the most level-headed. Roger would usually insist, but he was in the back, leaning his head against the side of the van, groaning as he hugged Brian’s blanket around his body.

“Turn the heat up, maybe?” Roger scolded, projecting so Brian could hear him over the rattling of their instruments.

“The heat is on, love. You can’t feel it when you’re as far away from the front as possible.” Freddie turned to face Roger, who was flipping him off as he crawled to the front so he could warm up a bit.

“Turn right at this light, Bri.” Freddie pointed to the traffic light a ways away, the yellow light hazy and fuzzy around the edges.

“I know how to get there.” Brian stopped at the light, the windshield splashing with a thick coat of muddy rain as other cars drove away. Brian gripped the wheel as he turned, the windshield wipers ridding the window of the acidic rain.

He parked the van at the back entrance of the pub, where, thankfully, there was a small awning so they wouldn’t be completely soaked. They lugged the drum kit out first, and Roger refused to help, widening his eyes and holding his stomach, feigning and over exaggerating his hangover.

“I’m sure this mysterious illness will suddenly cure itself when you find a groupie tonight.” Deaky slung Brian’s guitar over his back, grabbing extra drumsticks, thrusting them into Roger’s hand. “Can you handle these, Rog?” He patted his back gently, giving him a faux-sympathetic look. Roger faked a cough and wobbled inside as Brian locked the van, their wardrobe bags tucked under his arm.

__

It was nearing seven, and the band’s persistent advertising paid off; they were almost at capacity. Brian peeked out from behind the curtains, seeing everyone packed together tightly, the sound of Roger’s cymbals only accentuating the loudness of the crowd.

“It’s packed.” Brian smiled, giving his bandmates a thumbs up as he slung his guitar over his body. All of their outfits were a lot more flamboyant than usual, the patterns more daring, pleats more defined. Their eyes were caked in makeup, and eyeliner threatened to smear from the sweat that was already forming from nerves and body heat in excess.

The show began almost promptly at seven; they had begun to set up too early, but they couldn’t help the excitement of having their own gig--no openers, no distractions--even if it were entirely coincidental. They played with complete precision, their voices flowing through each other, harmonies flawless. Roger’s beat never faltered, Deaky’s fingers never skipped a chord. Freddie’s voice was clear, resonating loud, his projection making a microphone almost unnecessary. Brian felt in his element, talented. He was zoned out, not thinking about university for the first time since classes began weeks ago. His fingers slid across the strings, almost automatically, even though he hadn’t seriously practiced or played in what felt like months. The recording studio was different; they had the ability to fuck up. But there, on stage, was the real deal. It was showing the world their capabilities when there was no room for mistakes, and a quite sufficient amount of room for ridicule and criticism. But the crowd wasn’t critical, Brian thought, as he watched them sway, entranced by Freddie’s performance, his mike stand almost conducting them to move in sync with each other. His eyes squinted, blinded by the red lights, the stage smoke which Freddie insisted was a critical part of the experience. And as the lights were cut, Brian, along with the rest of the band hated to feel the beginnings of the end already. They wanted more, wanted to be the center of attention for more than a two hour set every few weeks, whenever they could get lucky enough to book something semi-substantial.

As Brian ducked backstage, he already heard the unmistakable sound of a champagne bottle being popped, then the protests as the foam bubbled over. Deaky sucked it from the side of the bottle, Roger opening his mouth to catch the drops which were dripping down the side of the green glass bottle. A bartender handed Brian some champagne flutes, and he fumbled with them holding each one between a bony finger as he set them down on the table, which was really an empty beer crate. Freddie poured them all a glass, and then another one. And they popped open more bottles of champagne before they ventured to the bar, where crowd members bought them shot after shot, which they downed, out of respect, of course.

So Brian wasn’t all that surprised when he woke up, drool dried on the side of his cheek, his arm hung off the side of a booth, his body halfway obscured under a table which was cluttered with dirty glasses, limes with the juice sucked out. His arm was severely asleep, and his head was pounding, his legs curled up since the booth was much too short to fit his entire body. He tried to sit up, but he hit his head on the bottom of a gum-plastered table.

“Ow!” He rubbed his head, and Deaky jostled on the booth across from him, groaning. His shirt was all the way unbuttoned, and one of his shoes was nowhere to be found, the other one still snug on his foot.

“Fuck.” Brian ran behind the bar, throwing up in a trashcan as he held onto the edge of the marble tabletop for support. He stood up, wiping his mouth with a napkin he found under a diluted martini. He was getting himself a glass of water when he saw the time on a neon clock hung near a shelf of vodkas. It was 8:55 AM. It could be worse he thought, quickly filling three more glasses with cold water, setting them by Deaky, Freddie, and Roger who were all knocked out, snoring in different corners of the bar, stinking of booze and sweat, just like Brian probably did. He grabbed his guitar and the keys to the van, changing into his old clothes which sat, pooled in the back. Except he accidentally put on Deaky’s shirt which was way too tight. But he didn’t have time to change; he just put on a velvet blazer and some trousers that could have been Freddie’s (they seemed a bit short), and grabbed his school bag, patting himself on the back for underestimating himself the night before. He left the keys back with Deaky, knowing he’d be the most apt to drive them home, judging by Roger and Freddie’s sleeping positions--Freddie was almost upside down, and Roger was on the floor, half naked, still holding on tightly to a half-drunk bottle of gin.

Brian jogged to class this time, the streets a bit quieter, as most of the weekend crowd had dwindled. Everyone seemed to know where they were going, and Brian strode through the outskirts of campus, cutting through a small trail lined with foliage. He held his guitar this time, his knuckles numbed and white from gripping the handle so hard. He lifted his watch--it was 9:26. He ran into the liberal arts building, like every Tuesday, sliding through the heavy wooden door, etched with swirled designs that reminded him so much of home, although he didn’t know why.

He was in his seat by 9:28, sweating profusely, and extremely self-aware of how weird he must have looked. Last night’s makeup was smeared around his eyes, glittery eyeshadow now highlighting his cheeks. His mouth was dry, his shirt two sizes too small. His pants were a bit short; he had definitely grabbed Freddie’s on accident. And he probably smelled awful, with booze on his breath to top it off. He leaned on his elbows, covering his mouth as he tapped his pen on his desk, trying to distract himself from your gaze, which he felt boring into him, and he just wanted to crawl into himself and never be seen again. He felt many eyes on him, judgemental and glaring; he stood out even more than usual, and he didn’t even know why he bothered coming. He rested his head on his desk, hoping he would forget about the stares if he couldn’t blatantly see them. His curls laid splayed on the desk, his hands in fists, his ankles cold from his much-too-short-pants.

The door slammed, and everyone sat up a little straighter, subconsciously fixing their hair that didn’t need to be fixed, straightening an already straightened tie. Brian lifted his head, the brighter lights that the professor turned on as she arrived making a dull pain ache between his eyes and run down the bridge of his nose. If he had to guess, he was still a bit tipsy from the night before.

“Long night, Mr. May?” Professor Lee looked inquisitively at Brian, who squinted at the mere brightness of her pale skin. He was glad she only said it loud enough so Brian could hear, and maybe you.

“Concert last night.” He answered, blinking slowly to savor his dwindling energy, already low from a severe lack of sleep--even for him.

“Smeared makeup,” She wiped a line of eyeliner from his cheekbone. “Is quite the look.”

You smirked in your seat next to him, crossing your arms. As class began, you could feel Brian’s gaze deepening on you, staring at your hands resting on your cheek, your legs clad in a skirt. The remaining alcohol in his system minimized his usually very heightened inhibitions, and he stared at you shamelessly but sadly, knowing his pining was nothing but a lost cause. You shifted in your seat, glancing at Brian whenever he wasn’t looking at you--which wasn’t often. But he looked good. His pupils were dilated, the aftershock from being drunk, you were sure. His chest was visible, and his shirt was a bit too small; makeup accentuated his sharp features yet softened them a bit. His hands rested under the desk, in his lap, where he spun his ring around his pinky finger, waiting for the lecture to end.

And seemingly hours and hours later, it did, cued by professor Lee slamming her book of ballads shut, dust fuming from in between yellowed pages.

“Don’t forget, your ballads are due next time I see you. I hope none of you have procrastinated.” She pointed an accusatory finger at the class, and they all lied through their teeth with enthusiastic head shakes.

“And Brian?” She called out, looking directly at him, the tallest one in the room by far. “I will be expecting an invite to your next concert; I’m quite curious about you. I think we all are.” She sat down at her desk, straightening a stack of books, as she looked at a very confused and embarrassed Brian, standing up, his guitar slung over his back like always.

“Um,” He stammered, trying to recall the booking schedule while it seemed like the whole class was frozen, waiting for Brian to humiliate himself, probably. “There’s one tonight. It’s at Imperial College, in the auditorium.” He nodded.

“Could I come? I’m sure some of your peers would love to see it too.” Professor Lee’s overly nice demeanor was confusing Brian, and his eyebrows furrowed together as he scratched his head.

“Uh--if you want. I mean yes, you’re all welcome. It’s 2 pounds to get in.” He didn’t want to invite everybody, but if their crowd was lacking and Freddie found out Brian’s modesty cost them a good show--he’d never hear the end of it.

You watched Brian pick at his jacket, absentmindedly stroking the velvet to distract himself from this embarrassment. He truly hoped nobody from class came to see him--not because he doubted his talents, or those of the rest of the boys--but because he knew these rich city kids wouldn’t appreciate the music, much less the performance. But you saw Brian straighten his back as he looked at you, his lip tugged by his teeth, as he decided he didn’t really care what these people thought. Why should he? He watched as your boyfriend hooked an arm around your waist, kissing the top of your head as he began to walk to Imperial College.

__

Brian was already late for rehearsals and setting up, so he didn’t have time to go home and shower. He locked himself in the bathroom at the college instead, awkwardly ducking his head in the sink, just to make him feel a bit cleaner. He found a bit of cologne in the bottom of his school bag, and he silently thanked whatever circumstances left it there. He snuck backstage, shaking his hair dry, a misty rain spraying down his shoulders as he did.

Freddie perked up as he saw him, and grabbed his shoulders, sitting him down on a broken amp. “You scared us half to death, Brian!” He slapped his shoulder, holding his hand out. “Roger hand me that cloth.”

Roger mocked him, rolling his doe-eyes. “A please wouldn’t hurt ya.”

Freddie just closed his fingers over his palm a few times, a gesture for him to get on with it. “No time for manners, Rog. We have a lot to rehearse.” Freddie hummed in delight as he felt a wet cloth being placed in his hand. Freddie bent forward, wiping the excess makeup from Brian’s face; it was smeared under his eyes, around them, on them. When he was satisfied, Freddie handed him an eyeliner pencil. “Also,” Freddie continued, gesturing to Brian’s outfit. “Give Deaky and I our clothes back when you change. Cropped and flared pants are not a look, not even for you sweetheart.”

Brian sat in front of a mirror backstage, his legs crossed as he lined his eyes carefully, like Freddie taught him. He pulled his eyelid taut, his mouth hung open as he smudged a black line on the puffy skin by his eyelashes. He changed into his own pants, which Freddie so kindly returned to him, and unbuttoned Deaky’s much-too-small silk button-up, breathing with relief when he finally had his full range of motion again. The concert was hours away, but Freddie insisted that the band fully immersed themselves into rehearsals--and that meant the makeup, the outfits, the nail polish.

__

At six forty-five, the crowd began to shuffle in, and Brian could feel his stomach tightening with anxiety--or was it pure fear? He found himself searching for you, but he couldn’t see; the contrast of the brilliant stage lights with the pitch-black pit was too large.

Brian was startled, as Roger slapped a hand on Brian’s shoulder, covered by ridiculous pleats and ruffles. “Are you alright?” He raised an eyebrow, and Brian turned to face him, shrugging his shoulders, his hands wrapped protectively around the neck of his guitar. He flipped his sixpence between his fingers.

“I’m fine.” Brian sighed. “I think some classmates are coming here, and I don’t really want them to be.”

“Why’d you invite them then?” He questioned, sipping some water to swallow a pain-killer.

He didn’t know, really. He told himself it was for Freddie--for the rest of the band. To make them feel like they were accomplishing something, like people were receiving their music well, because in all honesty it felt like they were screaming into deaf ears when it came to their music. But the pit in his stomach that he felt his heartbeat in told him he just wanted you to come. He wanted to show off to you. He wanted to show off to your boyfriend, truthfully.

“We deserve bigger crowds. More publicity.” Brian shrugged, and took Roger’s water of out of his hand, sipping some before handing it back. It was nearing seven and he felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins, on a highway to his quickening heart. The stage lights dimmed, and Brian could see Professor Lee, sitting cross-legged in the front row. A few other peers of his stood next to her, whispering as they side-eyed the stage. And you were right next to them, Tommy’s arm thrown over your shoulder, you nodding solemnly about something he whispered--or probably yelled--in your ear.

The crowd was lively and charged, jolted by the unorthodox performance they gave. Freddie glanced at Brian, giving him a small thumbs up, nodding his head towards where you stood, watching intently. You recognized the blond from a few weeks earlier, even though he was shrouded in a veil of sweat, glistening from the green lighting. The bassist was wearing the same shirt as Brian was earlier, but it fit the smaller man much better; he was able to move his arms swiftly, his shoulders bobbing as he fingered the frets. The singer was a powerhouse, a puppeteer, commandeering the crowd with the curl of a finger, an inflection of his voice. He kept swaying towards Brian, leading the taller man to in front of where you stood, neck craned to watch them--well, to watch Brian. He made eye contact with you plenty of times, his mouth agape, and he had to tear his gaze from your flushed face to focus on his playing. But it seemed his only flaw onstage was the utter perfection of his playing, which was almost maddening to you, and especially to Tommy, who saw you watching him quite intently. Brian tilted his neck back, a familiar sheen of sweat covering the expanse of its elegance, his fingers intuitively strumming as he watched you, followed your every gaze with a more intense one of his own. You found your eyes tracing the expanse of his legs, and then watching his fingers move, his forearms tensing from underneath an angelic shirt. You grabbed your boyfriend’s hand and squeezed, and he looked at you, almost relieved by the action. Brian was coy, biting his lip and raising his eyebrows, challenging you. He moved to the other side of the stage swiftly, bouncing over cords elegantly as he knelt down, holding his guitar flat as he strummed, eyeing some girls in the crowd that he would admittedly, never take home. But he wanted to test the waters, to see if you really were that blind. Couldn’t you see he was infatuated?

And sure enough, your gaze was fixed just on him, your ears ringing from the delay in Brian’s guitar, the piercing sound of his talent perfusing the room. Then, the concert ended, and you felt an emptiness pool in your stomach, pervade your thoughts. Brian gave you one last side-eyed glance, his lips pursed in something more akin to anger--not concentration. You tightened your grip on your boyfriend’s hand, convincing yourself this was his performance, a show he put on to keep people wanting more. But you couldn’t help but want so much more yourself. Whatever he was doing, it was working.

Brian hopped offstage a few minutes later, his face clean from the sweat, but his chest still heaving from the high. He talked to the professor, whose hand found his shoulder, giving it a solid pat as she congratulated him. The rest of the peers, Brian noticed, were suddenly changed; now they adored Brian, and a few girls from class hung onto his arm and fluttered their eyelashes, asking him about arbitrary musical things which they definitely had no desire in learning--they just watched his lips, beads of sweat falling over them. And you watched them too, admittedly. You tried to be conspicuous in your glances, but Brian caught your eye and smiled sweetly and innocently as Tommy pulled your arm for you two to leave.

__

As he got home, Brian’s thoughts were consistent. He was thinking about you--your hair, the way you laughed and intertwined your fingers with ones that weren’t his. How you stared at him--or maybe Roger?--so intently, so focused. The rest of the boys were at the bars still, probably pissed out of their minds like every night. But he sat at his desk, tapping a pen on the paper. The pen, to him, made it harder to start. He couldn’t make a mistake, and he needed to write about something unguarded, something completely true to his feelings, and the only thing he thought of that fit the bill was you. How you didn’t really see him. How you looked at him more like a subject than a person, how you turned your nose up and looked away when Brian stared. But also how reticent and ambiguous you were, teasing him with stolen glances--just a few. So his pen ran across the paper, sketching his thoughts distinctly.

He didn’t want to lose his chance with you--no matter how slim it was. He wrote until the sides of his hands were black from ink, and his fingers cramped, unable to form a legible letter no matter how hard he tried to. The morning sun crept through white curtains as he wrote the last line, scribbled and underlined and faded by a lack of ink.

So sad it ends

As it began

He folded the paper on his desk, and laid down, getting a few measly hours of rest.

Freddie burst through the door at nine AM, shaking Brian’s foot, which hung off the end of his bed. He was laying on his stomach, hugging his pillow, in his trousers, his hair awry.

“The studio awaits us!” Freddie clapped his hands together, poking Brian’s nose which barely poked out from the hair obscuring his face.

“Right now?” Brian whimpered, sitting up and rubbing his tired eyes.

“I don’t get up this early on purpose, sweetie. Now, did you write that song you promised us?” Freddie spun a globe which sat on Brian’s table, tracing his finger along the equator.

“Oh,” He thought for a second, still groggy. “I did, actually. Last night.”

“May I read it?” Freddie’s fingers plucked the folded paper on Brian’s desk, he assumed that was it.

“Go for it.” Brian put an old hoodie on, shoving his hands in his pocket.

Freddie’s face contorted in a multitude of emotions as he read the lyrics, and he sighed heavily as he finished. “Sad,” he nodded. “But, I love it. Quite honestly it’s nice.”

Brian smiled; it wasn’t too often that Freddie actually approved of a Brian May original.

__

The producer replayed the track, flipping a different switch, per Roger’s request.

“More drums at the end.”

Freddie scoffed, rolling his eyes, puffing a cigarette slowly. He pointed it at Roger, who yanked it from Fred’s grasp and puffed it himself.

“This isn’t a drummy song.” Freddie took the cigarette back, taking a deep drag.

“At some parts it should be!”

“It’s Brian’s song.” Deaky lit his own cigarette, leaning over the control panels to watch the producers work. “What do you think?”

Brian shrugged. “I think it could be a bit heavier with the drums at some part. Rog played really well today.”

Roger blew a kiss to Freddie, batting his eyelashes dramatically. “What did I say?”

The producer added stronger drums, a pen between his lips as he nodded at the enhanced sound, the beat dramatic. “I like it, guys. It’s a strong demo, and White Queen is only adding to the strength here.” He sent the band home with a few copies, almost translucent from overdubs and countless alterations.

__

The deadline had approached--Brian could tell by the nervous, forced banter between his peers, Their papers crinkling as they surreptitiously attempted to hide the content from the class--although they would all be presenting it soon. Brian flipped the demo in his hands, tracing his fingers over the sleeve, where Queen was written in deep blue marker, underlined with a tracklist underneath. The tension in the room was palpable as professor Lee strolled in, her usually straight hair barely curled, the gray strands glistening under the lights.

“The dreaded day.” She announced, sitting at her desk as she read over her roster, looking up at her class, awaiting, terrified. For the entire lecture, she called names randomly, summoning them to the front of the room, where they read bland poems in hushed, monotone voices. A few were good, but Brian wasn’t paying attention; he was shifting in his seat uncomfortably, feeling nauseous from his anxiety. She was torturing him, he was sure of it. They were running out of time, when she glanced up at him raising her palm up, a command for him to get up. He grabbed his record player from under his chair; it was wooden, a gift from his mother a long time ago.

“What is this setup?” She questioned, gesturing to him.

“My ballad is a song I wrote.” Brian set up the record player, his face flushing as he heard disapproving groans. You sat up in your chair, watching him as he took a small vinyl from its paper sleeve, setting it gently on the player. He placed the needle in the middle, and the bridge to Liar began to play, booming through the tiny speakers. “That’s not it.” Brian laughed nervously, looking up at Professor Lee; he was kneeling on the floor, trying to find the right place. When he did find it, soft, almost harp-like guitars flooded the room, and Brian stood up, leaning against a desk at the front, his arms crossed as he looked at his feet, not knowing what to do. He looked intently at you, hoping you’d understand it was all for you. The drums were enhanced, matching with Brian’s heartbeat, thumping, hard, and assuredly audible. Freddie’s voice was magnetic, and so were you. He was so drawn to you, and he didn’t know the first thing about you--what your major was, where you were from. He just had to have you, and he tugged his lip between his teeth as he shook the hair away from his eyes.

You watched him too, the way he was so obviously nervous, yet assured of his talent by the way he smirked almost inconspicuously as a particularly good lyric was sung, a guitar riff heard. His chest was red from a blush that crept up his entire body, his forearms looked strong under his sleeves which remained rolled up, despite his constant pulling at them. He was doe-eyed, his lips bitten and his skin tanned, his curls and waves extra defined. You couldn’t deny how attractive he was, and although it wasn’t him singing--he wasn’t even speaking-- it felt like he was singing to you, for you. You felt a shiver run up your spine, like when Brian’ touched you for the first time on that street corner, fleeting but so there. The song ended, and the class erupted into applause, whistling as Brian took the vinyl from the turntable, giving them a tight smile. He felt so vulnerable, but also like nobody got it.

“That was beautiful, Brian. Do you mind telling what it’s about?”

Brian faltered, but then stood up straight, sighing as he watched you scribbling in your notebook, feigning inattention at him. “I’m infatuated with a girl who doesn’t give me the time of day. The song is about our love that ended as it began, because she can’t see how much I want her.” Brian took his vinyl and record player from its position on a chair and gathered his things, embarrassed by his confession, although it was quite indirect. He left before she ended class officially, forgetting his bag completely.

You were confused; was he angry with you? Was he speaking to you? Picking up his heavy bag, you followed him out, as the rest of the class left along with you. You couldn’t find him among the crowd of students filing outside, mixed with the influx of students going to their noon classes. You pushed your way outside, trying to peer around the midday crowd of Londoners, when you saw Brian leaning against a van parked crookedly across the street. You walked to the other side, avoiding traffic and mumbling an apologetic excuse me to a middle-aged couple you bumped shoulders with. Brian’s face was in his hands, and he was now sitting in the driver’s seat of the van, looking distraught. You knocked on the window, pointing to his bag in your hands as he lifted his head up. His mouth pulled itself into a barely perceptible smile, his lips red from nervous biting. He reached over and unlocked the door, and you got in, without thinking, setting the bag between the driver’s and passenger’s seat. The tension was thick, even though the air was truly cold and thin and hard to breathe in.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He sniffled, clearing his throat a bit.

“You should really tell that girl how you feel. I’m sure she wants you just as much.” You looked at Brian’s profile, his tensed jaw peppered with day-old stubble, his lip protruding slightly.

He turned his head, looking at you almost sinfully. “I don’t think it’s possible for her to want me that much.” Brian had leaned forward again, and he looked at your lips blotted with a deep red lipstick. He wanted it all over him, he thought, tracing his gaze up your nose to look into your eyes. You could hear your hearts beating, and you felt unable to form a syllable, too focused on his eyelashes, which beat against his cheeks, almost innocent-looking.

“Maybe she does.” You retorted, and Brian tucked some of your hair behind your ear. His lips were millimeters away from your own now, and you could feel the edge of his bottom lip tickling yours, his breath ghosting over your mouth, down your chin.

“She has a boyfriend; I know that much.” Brian’s voice was deeper than you had ever heard it before; it was sultry and commanding you, like he did on stage, like he had been since the first day you met him.

“Not anymore.”

Brian held your chin, tracing your lips with his thumb as he sighed, his necklace hanging forward as he leaned closer--impossibly closer. You kissed the pad of his thumb, looking at him keenly as he kissed your jaw, biting your earlobe gently, teasingly, as he whispered in your ear.

“The back?” His fingers swept over the hem of your skirt, and your own brushed through his hair; it was softer than it looked, silky to the touch. You obliged, following him to the backseat, which was quite roomy and comfortable, a blanket thrown over the cushioned seats. Brian sat you on his lap, caressing the ends of your hair as he kissed at the junction of your collarbones, his hands resting on your hips, dragging down over your ass--just like your boyfriend did, just like he dreamt of doing. He squeezed and massaged at the exposed skin--he had bunched your dress around your waist as soon as he had you on his lap. Your fingers pulled at the extra-curly strands of hair at the nape of his neck, and he groaned deeply, sending a jolt to your core, which was lazily grinding against his cock, still restrained by dark velvet trousers. You tilted your head back, moaning as he left open-mouthed kisses at the base of your neck.

But you wanted his mouth on yours so bad your lips were quivering as they connected with Brian’s, which were anything but tentative as they sucked your bottom lip. Your nose was squished against his as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, now grinding yourself firmly against Brian’s cock, which was hardening. You could feel his thickness sliding against you, and your panties were beginning to soak at the feeling of him, the sounds of him groaning into your mouth. Your lipstick--like he had dreamt of so many night before--was all over his mouth, stained into his stubble, trailed down his neck. His hips bucked as your fingers fumbled with the button on his pants, you were almost unable to maneuver the metal button through the hole. But you got it, eventually, as he pulled your dress all the way over your head, rubbing at your clit through your wet underwear, his hips lifting so you could slide his pants down. They fell against the floor, and Brian lifted his foot out of one leg, using it to peel it from the other. You palmed his dick through his briefs and pulled his blazer off, rubbing your hands down the expanse of his chest, ridged and bony, as his nails dug into your hips, grabbing you desperately.

Now, you kissed his neck, sucking at a sensitive spot by his pulse point. He whimpered and threw his head back, rolling his hips faster, you kissing lower and lower on his neck before you reached his collarbones which jutted out from hot, barely freckled skin. He moaned loudly, begging you for more with his eyes, which were widened and dilated with desire.

“I’m so hard for you.” He whined, pushing your panties aside, sucking a finger into his mouth and prodding it inside of you, rubbing your clit with his calloused thumb. Your hips jerked as he added another finger--his middle one--which was so long and dexterous, massaging the front wall, deep inside of you as his thumb did the same languid motions to your clit.

You pulled at the elastic of his underwear, scratching your nails at his hips as you peeled them down his legs. He continued to finger you gently but quickly and skillfully, making you cry out at how good it felt to be full, to be lusted after like this. You spit in your hand, stroking his bare cock slowly, teasing him as your palm ghosted over his tip. You twisted your hand around the shaft, tracing your nails against the prominent vein which ran along it. It was pulsing under your touch, and Brian moaned in shallow breaths, bucking himself into your hand. You rubbed your thumb along the head and gathered a substantial amount of precum, sucking it off of your finger as your other hand squeezed at his balls.

That made him scream, and you shushed him, cupping his balls in one hand as you continued to jerk him off in the other. His hand squeezed at your ass, and you loosened your grip, reveling in the way he whined from the lack of friction on his aching member.

He took advantage of the lack of grip you had on him, curling his fingers deep inside of you, nudging at your g-spot, his mouth mirroring your own pleasure, before he leaned in to kiss you messily, your hands pulling at his hair in an attempt to get him closer. The touches were aching and so needy, your mouths interlocking, your breaths shared with one another.

“I need you,” He moaned against your neck, your hand lazily pumping him as he curled his fingers and rubbed at your clit loosely, the relaxed motion of it all making you grab at his wrist. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyelashes beating against the tops of his blushed cheeks. Then, Brian was pulling his fingers out, pushing them in between your lips. He flipped you over so he was hovering on top, resting on his knees as he sucked on the same fingers you had, making your back arch at the sight of his bitten lips savoring your taste.

You writhed underneath him as his cock slid against your entrance, his velvety tip rubbing against your clit softly. You ran your foot down his back, pushing at his ass with it, a silent bid for him to do what he wanted the most. “I don’t have a condom,” He rested his head against your neck, almost defeated.

“Just pull out, Brian.” You ground your hips upward, watching as his cock slid against your folds.

“Fuuck,” His eyes rolled back. “That’s so good. Feels so good.” He slid against you for a bit longer before he thrust into you, balls-deep. He stopped for a minute, his pelvic bone flush against your inner thighs. You gasped, and he did too, reveling in the feeling of being so deep inside of you.

“You’re so tight.” He mumbled, looking down at you through lashes barely covered with last-night’s mascara.

You just rolled your hips against him, yanking his face down to meet yours by his cold necklace, the chain tickling your sternum as his face hovered over your own. Your lips touched each other’s, your foreheads pressed together, soaked in a sheen of sweat. He pulled out, until his tip was barely inside of you before pushing all the way back in, making you gasp against his mouth that tasted like mint, and only faintly of gin. He thrusted slowly at first, pulling all the way out just to push right back in, making you feel every inch of him, every vein against your walls as his middle finger rubbed at your clit in tight, assured circles.

“Deeper.” You nod your head, urging him, before hooking your leg around his hip and pushing him into you, forcing him as deep as he could get. His breath hitched in his throat, and he lifted your hips up a bit, fucking into you at a new angle which is making you and him dizzy, your ears ringing from feeling all of him--all at once. Brian was unable to keep his eyes open as a strangled groan fell from his lips. He lifted your back, holding you to him as his thrusts became sloppier, his hips rolling unevenly. You pushed his hair back from his face, pressing a kiss to his mouth, his eyes unable to stay open for too long; his eyelids were so heavy.

He opened them enough to watch you fucking yourself against him, your hips rolling in tune with his own, his fingers digging into your hips; there were already purple bruises dotted along them. Brian opened his mouth, nodding as he gasped, his head buried in your neck as you pulled at his hair gently.

“I’m-” He groaned, now holding you by your waist, his lips idle against your collarbone.

“I know--me too.” You nodded, and he pulled out quickly, jerking himself off until his cum painted your stomach, oozing down your hips a bit. He caught it with his fingertips before it could ruin the seat, and you grabbed his hand, licking his seed off of his lengthy digits as he kissed down your torso, his nose resting against your clit as his tongue angled upwards to lick and suck at the nerves.

“Brian,” You whined, pulling his hair as he looked up at you innocently, his hips rocking against the velvety seat. He nibbled just barely at your clit, and you came, chanting his name, your back arching, your hands fisting at his hair. His chin was soaked and he sat up, looking down at his cock which was achingly hard, yet again.

His back was against the seat and you knelt in front of him, sucking him into your mouth, looking up at him through tear-soaked lashes. You licked a firm stripe from the base of him to the tip, and then he was groaning, cumming on his tensed stomach just from the look in your eyes that showed you wanted him too.

You helped him get dressed again, wordlessly pulling his briefs up, and then buttoning his pants while he did the same to his shirt. He handed you your dress, which was lodged between the seat cushions, wrinkled and cold. He pulled it down over your head and kissed your nose, zipping you up, pecking your shoulders while he did so.

You were tired, yawning against your hand as Brian climbed in the front seat, starting the engine after fishing his keys from his pocket, lifting his shaky hips for more leverage. He stroked your hair and gave you a cheeky, bashful smile--only funny because of his drastic duality which always surprised you.

“I hope this isn’t over.” He rubbed a circle on your bare knee, looking at the rearview window before pulling out of the parking spot with ease.

“It’s only just begun.” You held your hand over his and leaned your head against the window, the cold glass cooling your red-hot cheeks, still burning with arousal--but not even close to the scarlet that donned Brian’s cheeks, lifted by a huge, toothy smile.

__

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[quoth-the-sparrow]

Coming Home - Ch 3

A Sanders Sides Fanfiction

Chapter One - Chapter  Two

Warnings:  Nightmare, yelling, cursing, incorrect binding (Please do not do what Virgil is doing!), mentions of smoking (very brief)

Pairings: Mutual Pining/Eventual LAMP/CALM

Description:  Virgil is struggling and Logan won't let him handle it alone anymore

Word Count: 1,946

You can also find this story here on ao3

The classroom was empty when he got there. He took a seat in his usual spot and looked around, confused. Something about this seemed off. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it (he hated it when his anxiety was just vague) but something was off. Students he didn’t recognize began filing in, chatting among themselves and paying him no mind. Roman was the last one to enter the room, and when he did he walked right over to Virgil’s desk.

“We need to talk.” Roman’s tone was lower than usual, almost mean, and his expression held something that looked an awful lot like hatred. Virgil’s stomach clenched and he gripped the edges of the desk so hard his knuckles turned white. Instinct screamed at him to leave, to run away, but fear held him frozen in place.

“Um, okay, what-” Virgil gasped and clapped a hand over his mouth, bile rising in his throat. That wasn’t his voice. That couldn’t be his voice, it was too high-pitched. What was happening? He stared in wide-eyed horror at Roman, who just shook his head.

“Look. You’re disgusting, you’re a liar, and we can’t be together. I don’t even want to be friends with someone like you. So stay the hell away from me. You got that, Claire?”

Virgil exhaled sharply, the words hitting him like a blow to the chest. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. No one had called him by that name in years. Hearing it aloud like that was akin to nails on a chalkboard. Roman continued with his rant, the cold, angry look on his face unfamiliar and cruel.

“I can’t believe you lied to me, to all of us. You’re not a real man and you never will be. Who do you even think you are? You’re not good enough, Claire. You will never be good enough.” The other students had turned to face him, laughing and making rude, derogatory comments.

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, breathing shallow and rapid in his panic. “No, no, this is just a bad dream, come on, wake up wake up wake up-”

He opened his eyes and sat up, sweat matting his hair to his forehead and blankets a tangled mess on the floor. A glance at the alarm clock told him it was 4:17 am. His chest hurt so badly, like his ribs were being compressed. He looked down and saw his binder, his mostly flat chest. He knew he should take it off but he didn’t.

Instead he laid back down, trying to ignore the tears falling down his face. This had been the fourth nightmare he’d had in as many days. They’d all been different, but tonight’s nightmare had been the worst by far. He rolled over on his side, clutching a pillow to his chest and sobbing. He could still hear Roman’s voice, still heard that name echoing in his head. He tossed and turned, trying and failing to fall back into sleep.

***

“Virgil, come on, wake up! Today’s the big day, babe!” Patton’s sweet voice called through the closed door. Virgil groaned and turned around in bed to face the door, wincing in pain. He’d never taken his binder off and now his ribs were throbbing worse than before.

He hesitated, then called out, “Yeah, Pat, I’ll be down in a bit.” His voice was deeper, back to normal. Virgil sighed in relief. He could hear Patton’s footsteps retreat down the hallway. Virgil took as deep a breath as possible before sitting up, the sharp pain in his chest causing him to cry out. He stood and stumbled into his bathroom, closing the door behind him. “Today is going to fucking suck.”

***

“Hey Lo-Lo, hey Roman!” Patton exclaimed brightly as they skipped into the kitchen. Logan looked up over his coffee cup and smiled warmly at them, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. Patton twirled around, their blue skirt flowing out around them. Roman laughed and embraced Patton, planting a soft kiss on their nose.

“Good morning, sunshine! You look absolutely lovely in that skirt! What pronouns are we using today?” Patton giggled and showed him their purple bracelet.

“They/them today! It’s a non-binary kinda day,” they replied as they sat down across from Logan. “Speaking of today, we have to go to the store. We’re out of eggs and we need snacks for tonight’s movie marathon!”

Logan nodded and gestured to Roman. “Well it would be better for you to go to the store now that way none of us feel rushed for time. I know you’d talked about baking a cake from scratch, Patton, and if you still plan on doing that we’ll also need flour.”

“Okay, thank you for reminding me, Lo! Roman, could we go now? Maybe all four of us could go, like an adventure!” Patton bounced up and down in

their seat. “But our stormcloud isn’t awake all the way yet, I don’t think. Should I go call for him again?”

Logan reached out for Patton’s hand and shook his head. “No, that’s alright. You two go, I’ll stay here and talk to Virgil.” Patton’s face fell, a frown slowly replacing their smile.

“I understand, Loganberry. I’m worried about him; he’s been acting so strange and distant lately.”

Roman glanced up at the ceiling, towards where Virgil’s bedroom was. “I mean, him and I had gone out last week and he seemed happy. But then a couple days ago he started freezing me out again… I think he’s been doing that to all of us.”

The three of them fell silent, the worry and sadness they all felt nearly tangible. Logan cleared his throat and stood from the table. “You two go get what you need to from the store. I’ll go see if I can get Virgil to talk to me.”

As soon as Patton and Roman were out the front door, Logan headed up the stairs. He hesitated outside Virgil’s door for several long moments before knocking. “Virgil? Can I come in?”

Silence. Logan waited, then knocked again, a little harder this time. “Virgil, are you awake? I really need to talk to you, this is important.” He waited for a reply, but all he heard was a muffled noise that sounded a lot like coughing. Panic setting in, he opened the bedroom door. But Virgil wasn’t there. He could see the comforter, a tangled heap on the floor. The trash can that sat by Virgil’s desk was knocked over, crumpled papers spilling out of it. Another cough, louder, came from the bathroom. Logan rushed over to the bathroom door, a hand on the doorknob. “Virge, honey, are you alright? What’s going on?”

“I’m fine, Logan. Please just go away.” Virgil answered, his voice raspy.

“I’m inclined not to believe you, given the current situation. Please let me in, I can h-”

“No!” Virgil cried out, and Logan heard the sharp click of the bathroom door locking. “Just go away, alright? I don’t need your fucking help. Get out of my room.”

Logan took an involuntary step back, as if Virgil’s words had physically struck him. He took a moment to take a deep breath, then tried again. “I’m going to ignore that statement because it is clear you’re speaking out of anger. Please either come out, or let me in so I can help.”

The door burst open and Virgil was standing there, leaning against the doorway with one arm wrapped around his chest, breaths coming in short gasps. Logan looks at Virgil’s chest and realization strikes him. “Virgil, take off your binder. How long have you had it on?”

Virgil shook his head. “No. It’s none of your business. Get away from me, okay? You don’t understand anything! You don’t-” his words devolve into a coughing fit and the world is spinning and he can feel himself falling. But then Logan’s arms are around him, gently guiding him to the bed.

“I’m going to leave the room for a minute and while I’m gone you are going to take your binder off.” Logan’s voice was firm despite being laced with concern. Virgil tried to argue but was cut off by Logan.

“Virgil Leon Grey, don’t you dare. I know dysphoria can be difficult to deal with, but it shouldn’t be at the expense of your health. You are going to do as I say, and you are not going to argue about it. You think you’re stubborn? You’ve got nothing on me.” Logan stood, and Virgil could see he was trembling a bit.

“I… yeah okay. Just… I’ll take it off,” he mumbled, eyes downcast. He’d never heard Logan sound so upset, not in all the time he’d known him. Logan left the room and Virgil did as was asked of him. Once he got situated, he called out “Okay, come back in.”

Logan re-entered the room. Virgil’s binder was laying folded on the edge of the bed. Virgil had taken the comforter from the floor and was clutching it to his chest like a lifeline. Logan sat next to his friend and asked “What’s been going on? Talk to me, please. I care about you, Virgil. You’re one of my best friends and I want to help.”

There was such tender care in his voice. Virgil bit his lip, not sure what to say or where to start. “I…. I’m sorry. I just, I’ve been having these nightmares, these awful nightmares, and dysphoria is being way worse than usual and I miss smoking and I miss Damien and I’m just so confused and tired all of the time.” Virgil covered his face with his hands. He hadn’t meant to say all that but once he’d started talking he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“That’s quite a lot on your plate. You could have… why didn’t you say something? You haven’t started smoking again, have you?” Logan gently rested a hand on Virgil’s back. He could feel the heat of it radiating off of him, even through his shirt, and Virgil found himself leaning into Logan’s touch.

“No, don’t worry, I haven’t. And… I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to bother you. I didn’t want to bother anyone. You were busy studying for finals and Patton was putting in way more hours than usual and Roman… I just couldn’t say anything.” Virgil sighed and looked up into Logan’s eyes to find him staring at him with a look so sad, it made Virgil feel guilty. Before he could say anything, Logan spoke again, this time in barely a whisper.

“Can I hug you, V?”

Virgil just nodded and sighed with relief when Logan embraced him. This was nice. Logan was warm and he smelled really good and his arms were so strong and Virgil felt himself relax, not even caring that he was blushing. “I’m sorry, Lo… I didn’t mean to snap at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s alright, V. I forgive you. However, I’m going to ask that you not wear your binder for a week. Your ribs need time to rest. I know it’s going to suck, but honestly you did this to yourself.”

Virgil looked up at Logan. “Damn, dude. That’s pretty harsh.” Logan just smirked, and Virgil gave his friend a small smile, a blush creeping onto his cheeks as well.

“Yes well, it’s true. Don’t scare me like that again, alright? And please, don’t you ever think that you’re a bother. If something’s wrong, come talk to me. I’ll always be here for you, love, I promise.” Virgil nodded and felt himself dozing off. The last thing he felt was a soft kiss on his forehead before falling asleep.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this story! Feel free to reblog and tell me what you think! If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my taglist, please let me know by sending me an ask. You can find me on ao3 at Storytelling_Sparrow. Thank you so much for your continued support!

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[buginabog]

Am I Dreaming Or Dead?

Summary: ...sanders sides fantasy story. Purely self indulgent.

Pairing: royality, loceit, remile

Warning: death mention, sympathetic deceit, body horror (kinda)

-

People told you to never go into the woods.

People said those who went in never came back.

People said that monsters and ghosts roamed and that demons rose up from the pit.

So of COURSE Roman was going to explore.

"Roman? What are you doing?" Came a concerned call from behind him.

Roman groaned and turned to his twin brother, "I'm exploring the woods. Duh."

Logan raised an eyebrow, "the woods that no one has ever come back from?"

Roman laughed, "I didn't know you believed the tales Lo!"

Logan huffed, "I dont. But that doesn't change that those woods in particular are infested with dangerous creatures that will kill you."

"Added bonus then."

Logan groaned, "I swear, you'll give me a heart attack, you overdramatic, ridiculous, idiotic man."

Roman grinned, "I'm just going in for a few minutes, I'll only go a few feet. I promise."

Logan sighed, "fine."

Roman smiled and stepped inside the trees. He walked through the woods, his feet crunching on the pine straws carpeting the ground. He looked around, expecting to feel different, and sighed when nothing happened. He turned to his brother, "you were right Lo!" He turned around, "theres nothing he-" he broke off.

The thing that had caused his voice to stop dead in his throat was a small, floating blue thing. Unintelligible whispers came from it. Roman took a step toward it, sure that if he got closer it would tell him its secrets.

"Roman? Come on, let's go home!" Logans voice broke Roman out of his stupor. The wisp vanished.

"Oh... yeah! Coming!" Roman's gaze lingered on where the wisp was, and he turned and ran out of the woods.

-

Later that night, Roman had a strange dream.

The wisp was there, and it led him deeper and deeper into the forest, where a smiling man, with a freckled face and blue eyes, smiled and extended his arms. As if to give Roman a hug. Something in his face reminded Roman of someone. But he couldnt quite remember...

Roman woke up, panting. He got dressed in a frenzy, grabbing a bag and some food, before rushing to the forest and running in, looking around desperately for the wisp. Almost crying when he didnt see it. Then it turned up, with it's strange, haunting whispers. "You..."

The wisp bounced up and down. "Where do you want to take me?"

The wisp whispered, barely loud enough for Roman to hear, "follow."

Roman nodded, "ok"

The wisp took off, Roman running after it, so focused on it, that he didnt realize the tree roots moving out of his way, the branches moving to form a hallway. He followed the wisp so far that the trees grew taller than most of the buildings in his town, to a little glade where you couldnt see a hint of air pollution. The stars so clear and beautiful.

The sound of sobbing brought Roman to the present, he looked around, and saw the man from his dream. "Hello?"

The mans head jerked up and around, "oh, child... who brought you here?"

Roman looked around, "a- a wisp, but... where?"

The man smiled sadly, "ah, the tricksters."

Roman frowned, "what do you mean, 'the tricksters'? Who are you?"

The man shook his head, "its unwise to use names in the forest. If you must refer to me, call me Morality. As for the tricksters, they led you here for the hunters."

Roman growled, "who are the hunters!?"

Morality frowned, "it will be sunrise soon, you must leave the forest before the sun appears. Or the hunters will find you." Roman looked around nervously, "do you know the way home?"

Roman shook his head, "I followed the wi- trickster, here."

Morality nodded, "I see. Well, be on your way."

Roman stared, dumbstruck, "...but, I don't know how to get home..."

Morality smiled, "all roads lead home child, although not all lead back."

Roman groaned and turned around, "helpful. Could you at least point me the right-" he turned around to see... no one, "way?"

Roman set off through the forest, trying to guess the way back. As the moon dipped closer to the horizon, his search grew more and more desperate. Finally, the sky turned blood red, and then blue.

A howl sounded in the distance, followed by the sound of wild laughter. Roman's heart pounded, and he ran. He ran anywhere, with no goal in mind. He just needed to get away from that haunting howl and the terrifying laughter.

A creaking sound followed him. The sound trees would make if they could run. The laughter came with it.

Roman fell.

He looked back to see a thorny vine twisted around his legs, growing closer and closer to his torso. He tried and tried to push the brambles off. The vines only grew faster.

Morality appeared in front of him, tears falling down his face, "I'm sorry child."

Roman sobbed in despair, struggling against his thorny bonds. He managed to choke out one word, "why?"

Morality sobbed harder, "I- I hoped you could save me..." he conjured an image in his palms, "if someone destroys this, you and I, and all the others, will be freed." In his palms was the image of a crystal in a flowered field.

Roman looked around, and saw a man that looked just like Morality wrapped in vines. He looked around, and saw so, so many other forms wrapped in vines.

"Victims of the woods." Morality said sadly. "People who ventured into the woods."

The vines reached Roman's eyes. The last thing he saw was regret on Morality's face.

-

Roman woke up in the clearing he met Morality in.

Morality was sitting in the clearing, sobbing again. "Morality? What's happening?"

Morality looked st him in terror, "what are you doing here? They never come back after the hunters get them..."

"They?"

"The other people the tricksters preyed upon... they all moved on to... whatevers next."

"But...I didnt?"

Morality frowned, "no. You didnt."

-

Ten Years Later

-

Virgil walked downstairs, yawning. He could smell his favorite for dinner. Pizza.

"Hey L, Dee."

Declan smiled, "hey edge lord."

"Hey snake face."

Declan laughed, "that's a new one!"

Virgil gave a little bow, "thank you. It took me a gruelling 3 seconds to come up with."

Logan frowned, "3 seconds doesnt sound very gruelling?"

Declan rested a hand on his husbands shoulder, "sarcasm, dear," he explained.

Logan opened his mouth in a silent "oh" and went back to eating his pizza.

Virgil grimaced at Declans pizza, "I will never understand how you eat that." He said, gesturing to the pineapple-covered monstrosity.

Declan raised an eyebrow in Virgil's direction, "says the man who eats pizza with ranch."

Virgil snickered and started to eat.

They ate in silence for a while, before Declan looked at Virgil and cleared his throat, "Virgil?"

Virgil looked up, "yeah?"

Declan chewed the piercings on his bottom lip for a minute before speaking, "well, I got a new job opportunity, and Logan has a family house in a town near it. And we..."

"Have to move." Logan finished brusquely, his expression and voice cold.

Virgil frowned, "okaaay. L, you ok? You kinda look like you're about to murder someone."

Logans hand curled into a fist on the table, "it's fine. Just... some bad memories from that place."

Virgil nodded slowly, "ok. Well, cool."

Declan smiled, "oh thank fuck."

-

Virgil looked out the window of the car as they pulled up to big house that was Logans old house. It looked grand but empty, like all the life had been sucked out of it years ago.

Declan pulled into the driveway, "well, we're here." He turned to look at Virgil, "you sure you're good?"

Virgil smiled and nodded, "I'm fine Dee-Dad."

Declan chuckled, "nooooooo. I thought you forgot that!"

Virgil grinned evily, "nope."

Declan laughed, "well, Logan'll be here tomorrow with the truck. But in the meantime, let's get settled. Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

-

Two days later, most of the furniture was in the house, but there were still boxes everywhere. Virgil was overwhelmed by the clutter and decided to go exploring for a quiet spot to sit.

He had seen a forest on the edge of town when he and Dee drove in, so he decided to head there. He was nearing the edge when he heard a terrified voice cry out, "VIRGIL! NO!"

Virgil turned around to see Logan running toward him with a terrified look on his face, "L? What's up?"

Logan clutched his shoulders so hard it stung, "Virgil, you must promise me you will never, EVER, go into those woods. Do you understand?"

Virgil frowned, "L, wha-"

"PROMISE ME."

Virgil blinked. He couldnt remember a single time Logan had yelled at him. Not even when he ran away. "...I promise."

Logan sighed, "thank you. I apologize for my outburst but... just dont go into the forest."

Virgil nodded, and looked at the woods, trying to see what was so dangerous about them, when he saw a man standing there, looking, stricken, at Logan.

-

Roman looked at his brother, so grown up now. And the kid next to him, was that his son? ...He couldnt believe it. While he was frozen in time, everyone changed around him. He ran back to his clearing, eager to tell Morality what he had seen.

-

As Logan looked at Virgils faraway expression, terror gripped him. That same expression had been on Roman's face the day before... no. He couldnt think of that now. He had a son who needed him, and he was never, ever gonna let the forest take someone from him again.

-

Ten Years Ago

-

Logan yawned as he walked downstairs. "Logan, would you be a dear and wake your brother?" His mom called from the kitchen.

"Yeah. Sure." He walked back up and knocked on Roman's door, "hey dork. Wake up."

He frowned when there was no dramatic answer or offended gasp, and opened the door himself.

The window was open, curtains blowing in the wind. A note laid on the pillow.

'I saw something in the woods. And I had a weird dream. I think it's a sign. If I'm not back in the morning... well, I think you can know what happened. I love you bro. Love, Roman.'

Logan gasped in horror and ran downstairs clutching the note, "MOM, DAD!"

An hour later, he sat on the couch bei ng comforted by his boyfriend as his Dad frantically called everyone in town.

No one had seen Roman.

All Logan could say was, "my fault."

-

Ten Years Later

-

Virgil paced around his room. Who was the man in the forest? Why was Logan so scared of it? Why did the man look like he knew Logan? The man in the woods looked just like Logan, why? Virgil frowned when an idea came into his head.

He tiptoed downstairs into the living room, and a light switched on.

Logan sat there, dark circles under his eyes and his hair messier than Virgil had ever seen it. "Virgil? Where are you going?"

Virgil frowned, "you look like shit."

Logan sighed, "I know I just... had to make sure you wouldn't sneak out to the forest."

Virgil frowned, "trust me dad, I'm not."

Logan sighed in relief and leaned back, "ok. What do you need?"

Virgil looked at the small bookshelf full of photo albums, "did you have a twin brother?"

Logan froze, "Did Declan tell you?"

Virgil shook his head, "no, no, just... in the woods, I saw a man that looked like you."

Logan gasped and stood up. As he paced he muttered under his breath, "no... that's not possible... it's been ten years... he would've come back if he was alive..."

"Wait, what do you mean, 'if he was alive'?"

Logan looked at Virgil, "take me to where you saw him."

Virgil frowned, "but you sai-"

"Virgil." Logan looked to his son with tears in his eyes, "please..."

Virgil gasped, Logan NEVER cried, "yeah... yeah ok dad."

Logan nodded and walked out towards the car.

-

Logan pulled up next to the woods, where Virgil had seen the man, Roman, Logan told him.

Logan ran to the edge, never stepping past the tree line, calling Roman's name. Virgil ran after him, making sure his dad never strayed too close.

Hours after they started their search, Roman appeared. Logan glared at the sadly smiling man, and started to yell. "You... you... you IDIOT! Do you have ANY idea how much I grieved for you! Do you have any idea how you affected ALL of us? The LEAST you could've done was SHOW UP at the house but NOOOOO! Roman Sanders needs to be DRAMATIC! I thought you were DEAD!"

Roman just looked at him.

Logan broke down sobbing, "SAY something goddamnit! SAY SOMETHING TO ME COWARD!"

Roman opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Logan frowned at him, "Roman what-?"

Roman stuck his tounge out, but it was brown and... sharp? Then Virgil realized... it wasnt his tounge.

It was a thorny vine, growing out of Roman's mouth... longer and longer until it reached the ground. Then Virgil blinked, and it was gone. Along with Roman himself.

"Dad? ...what was that?"

Logan stared at the spot Roman had been.

"Dad?"

Virgil's terrified voice snapped Logan back to reality, "get to the car..."

Virgil turned and ran without another road, Logan close behind.

-

"Dad? Where are we going?"

Logan looked back at his son, "to see the craziest person in town. The one who knows the woods the best."

Virgil nodded, and was quiet for a while before asking, "what happened to uncle Roman?"

Logan sighed, "he was an idiot, and decided that he just HAD to explore the woods. I saw him, and I didnt stop him... he only went a few feet but... he saw something... and that night he snuck out-"

"So THATS why you were waiting in the living room!"

"...yes. But, he snuck out, and I never saw him again."

"Until tonight?"

"Yeah. Until tonight."

-

Logan pulled into a house with a lawn overgrown with weird smelling plants and trees. The roof looked on the verge of collapse and the garage had fallen in on itself.

"Logan? It looks like no one lives here."

Logan shook his head, "no... he just never cleans up the outside."

Logan walked up and knocked on the door, "Picani?"

The door creaked open slowly. Virgil held his breath, expecting to see a haggard old witch.

He did not expect the beaming man who jumped at Logan to hug him. "Logi!"

Logan smiled, "Hey Emile, hows Remy?"

Emile grinned, "oh he's wonderful! Hes actually inside with Kai right now!"

Logan frowned, "Kai?"

"Our son!"

Logan gasped and smiled, "oh my god, Emile! That's wonderful!"

Virgil frowned, "I thought we were going to see the craziest person in town?"

Logan laughed, "oh yeah! Virgil, this is Dee's brother, your uncle Emile!"

Emile held out his hand, "hey there!" He frowned at Logan as he shook Virgils hand, "'craziest person in town'?"

Logan looked sheepish, "welllll-"

Emile rolled his eyes, "Remy's not crazy. Logan just thinks so because he's seen the things in the forest."

Logan became serious very quickly, "ah, speaking of, I need to speak to him."

Emile frowned, "Logi? What happened?"

Logans eyes started tearing up again, "I- I saw Roman... in the woods."

Emile frowned, "yeah, ok."

He turned and beckoned them in. Virgil followed Logan as they walked in.

-

Emile walked into the kitchen, where a man wearing sunglasses inside for some reason was trying to get a toddler to go to bed.

"Kai hon, please go to bed? You're gonna be tired and cranky tomorrow."

"But I wanna stay awake up with you and Papa!"

"I know you do sweetheart but I'm gonna go to bed soon sweetie."

Kai pouted and started tugging on his dads onesie "Daaaaaaaad!"

Emile laughed and scooped Kai up, "hes not going to bed then?"

Remy sighed and kissed his husband, "no. No he is not." He poked Kai in the stomach, "the little troublebug!"

Kai squealed, "Dad! Noooooo!"

Remy laughed, but his face quieted when he saw Logans tear-streaked face, "...Lo?"

Kai gasped, "Is that uncle Logan?"

Emile bounce Kai up and down, "why dont you join Ellie upstairs ok sweetheart?"

"Whys uncle Logan here?"

"He has to talk to Dad about something."

"Can I hear?"

"No sweetie, go join your sib upstairs."

"I-" Kai stopped talking to yawn, "I dont wanna, I'm not sleepy yet!"

"But Elliott wants you to say goodnight to them!"

Kai gasped, "can I sleep in Ellies bed?"

Emile smiled, "sure thing! Let's go ok?"

Kai nodded, smiling, "ok Papa!"

As they left Remy huffed in exasperation, "I spend thirty minutes trying to get that kid in bed and Emile does it in what? Five minutes?"

Logan laughed, "tough life my friend."

Remy turned to Logan, "so. What do you need?"

Logan sighed, "look, Remy-"

"Nope. Why are you here."

"Remy."

"I dont want to hear it. Why are you here?"

"I saw Roman."

Remy froze, "...where?"

"In the woods."

"What happened?"

"I-I yelled at him, and, and then... thorns started... started growing out of his mouth."

"Thorns?"

"Like a thorny vine."

Remy turned to Virgil, "did the kid see it too?"

"...yes."

"Ok, leave."

"Remy-"

"Its not because I'm mad at you. Its because kids are easier to read. So, out."

Logan looked at Remy for a second, "ok." He turned to his son, "dont worry, Remys a good person. I'll be right outside if it gets to much ok?"

"Ok dad."

Remy put a hand on their sunglasses, "I'm gonna take these off, dont freak out when you see my eyes, k?"

"Ok."

Remy took off his sunglasses and his eyes...

His eyes were a kaleidoscope.

Virgil shrunk under those multicolored eyes, feeling as if they were sinking into every inch of him, reading all of his experiences, all of his thoughts... all of his feelings. "Stop... stop... STOP! DAD! DAD!"

Logan burst in and grabbed Virgils shoulders, "Virgil. Virgil honey I need you to look at my eyes."

"But... but the breathing... the breathing stuff."

"Virgil."

Virgil met Logans eyes and stared into their calming blue. And his breathing slowed and clamed.

Logan glared at Remy, "Remus Orion Somnus!"

Remys eyes widened, "shiiiiiit" he said under his breath.

"Didnt you WARN HIM?"

"I- I told him not to- not to freak out but- but I-"

"That doesnt COUNT! You have to tell them about how it feels dumbass!"

Remy sneered and sat up, "I wouldnt have to if you hadnt LOST Roman!"

Logans face stilled, "Virgil. We're leaving."

Virgil looked up at Logan, "but what about Roman?"

Logan stood up, pulling Virgil gently with him, "we'll... we'll get him back some other way."

Remy got up and stalked out, "like he'd want to see YOU."

Logan stormed out, tears streaming down his face.

-

(I ran out of room so I guess this is multichaptered now? Reply is you want more.)

[cost-of-chaos]

All You Need Is Love (Chapter Seven)

Once again thank you @xgoingdownx for helping me out!  I just want to thank everyone who has read this and liked or reblogged or commented, every time someone interacts with my story my day is made! If you wanna be tagged or just give me feedback my ask box is always open xx

Roger Taylor x OC

Words: 2.3K

Warnings: Mentions of smut 

Previous Chapters: Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six

I awoke to the sound of my front door slamming, panic instantly swept through my body as lay still in the bed. I couldn’t move, I was completely frozen in place. I could feel my heart jumping out of my chest with every beat, had I forgotten to lock my door last night? 

My fears faded as the intruder finally showed themselves in the dim light from the rising sun. It was Roger. What was he doing back here? He wasn’t meant to be arriving back in London until tonight. Roger silently climbed into the bed next to me, with Lenny in his arms purring away loudly as he received much sought after chin scratches.

“I would never cheat on you Ronnie, you know that. What you heard was the room next to mine."  He whispered, bringing his rough hands up to my face, cupping my cheeks softly. I stared into his soft, blue eyes as they searched my face, full of anticipation of what I would say. I couldn’t stop my jaw from dropping in shock, was he being serious? Was this all just a misunderstanding?

“I love you Ronnie, I’m sorry we fought, I feel as thought I have been missing a part of myself without you.” His eyes glassed over as tears filled his eyes, and mine soon did the same, leaving him a blurry haze of beauty.

“I’m sorry for not believing you, I love you baby.” I kissed him hard, with a sense of urgency, I’d missed him so much and I needed to convey that to him.

He laid me down on the bed so he was hovering me, his long hair tickling my neck as he smiled down at me. The smile I’ve missed so much, the smile I never thought I’d see again.

He kissed me softly, peppering kisses down my neck, with a tenderness he hadn’t ever shown a whole lot of. He pulled my shirt off of my body slowly, kissing my stomach as he did so before pulling my knickers off too, kissing his way back up my body. He made it to my upper thigh and started lightly sucking, I was already ready for him, he was going to push me over the edge without even getting close to me. Removing his clothes with haste, I tried to gain control of the situation but he didn’t let me, he pinned my hands down as he started lapping at my core. This teasing was agony, I needed him inside of me, I felt as though my desire for him had never been this strong. By the time he slowly, entered me I felt as though I might come undone by the thought of it all. His movements were agonisingly slow and full of love, full of passion. This wasn’t just makeup sex, we were making love.

I awoke in a cold sweat, breathing heavily as I recovered from the dream I just left. How could my subconscious betray me like that? How cruel to conjure up such a perfect dream, one that will never come true? I was feeling even more empty and heartbroken than I was yesterday but I needed to continue on with my day and my life. I stretched my arms above my head trying to stretch the kinks out of my neck and back. I was now feeling the full regret from falling asleep on the cheap couch. After a few minutes of lying there with my eyes shut, I decided I needed to get up. I had given myself a day of moping around yesterday and I needed to be somewhat productive today, and drive down to Rogers parents house. Wonderful. I needed coffee, lots of it.

I got up slowly, stretching my tight muscles as I let out a deep yawn. I stumbled into the kitchen, turned the kettle on and started grinding up coffee beans for the French press. God, there was no better smell on a morning like this. I jumped on top of the yellow counters in front of me and rested my back against the window, feeling the rays of sun hit my skin as I closed my eyes bringing the freshly ground coffee to my nose and inhaling. Savouring the moment of morning serenity.

I heard the water start to bubble away in the kettle and I jumped back off the counter, halting my tranquillity. I filled the french press and slowly pressed the beans through the hot water as I stared out of the window. After pouring myself a mug, I walked into the bathroom. I sat the coffee mug on the edge of the pink bathtub, dropped the plug and ran the water.

After adding some bubbles, I submerged myself in the warm water. I lay in the bath until my coffee, bubbles and heat had disappeared, enjoying the silence of a completely empty apartment for once. To be able to lie in the bathtub, and think of nothing as I sipped my morning coffee, I slipped into some sort of zen state, letting all my troubles dissipate with the bubbles.

I finally got out of the bath, wrapping a towel around my body, I walked into the bedroom. It felt weird to walk into the room without seeing Lenny asleep on the window sill. I opened the pine wardrobe door and sifted throw my clothes, I chose a Beatles t-shirt, a brown corduroy skirt and a leather jacket, and quickly threw them on before brushing my teeth and wiping some lip balm onto my lips.

I placed my empty coffee mug in the sink, and poured the remaining coffee from the French press into a pot, putting it on the stove to reheat for my long drive ahead. Why did we think leaving him with Rogers parents was a good idea? Of course, when we planned it, we were going to be doing a fun road trip down to Cornwall together, stopping off at an old B&B and pubs and tea shops on the way down. But no, this was a solo mission now, the first of many presumably.

While my coffee was heating up, I made a jam sandwich and threw an apple into my handbag. After filling a thermos and a water bottle I was ready for my journey. I opened the front door and was greeted by a gust of wind, maybe that leather jacket wasn’t quite going to cut it. I dashed back into the living room and picked the fur coat from last night up from the floor in front of the couch and draped it over my arm. It was always colder down at the seaside and I was sure to need the extra layer sometime today.

After all day on the road, I finally made it back through the door of the apartment, with Lenny in cradled in my arms. I was grumpy and tired but most importantly, starving. But as soon as I let Lenny down, he ran to his bowl in the kitchen, meowing at such a decibel I was sure I was going to get complaints about animal abuse. I found a tin of cat food and scooped it out into his bowl before catering to my own hunger.

I left the apartment again, walking the short distance to the corner of the block to the Chippy. I ordered some chips and found an empty table by the window. I sat down under the fluorescent hanging light at watched rain begin to hit the window outside, of course it was raining, just my luck.

Betty called my number out after a short while, “Veronica, love! I purchased your boyfriends record the other day! I can see why you keep him! He was right, they are amazing!”   

I responded with a tight smile and took my packet of chips, poured some vinegar over them and left the store. Couldn’t I just go one day where Roger wasn’t brought up? Although I suppose it was hardly that poor woman's fault, Rog had been boasting about Queen one night to her after a long night at the pub and insisted ‘she needed to purchase the new album because her life would change as she knew it’. I chuckled to myself at the memory as I walked up the stairs back to the apartment.

I ate my dinner in peaceful silence, reading the book I’d started on the way to Japan with Lenny curled up in my lap. I was in my own little world before the phone started ringing pulling me out of the world of Stephen King.

“Hello?” I answered the phone slightly out of breath after running for the phone, I sat down on the kitchen counter.

“Veronica, at long last you finally grace me with your voice” I heard my mother drawl on the other end. Oh god, I was not in the mood to deal with my mother. I opened the window to my right and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before answering her.

“What is it mum? I’m a bit busy at the moment, can this wait?” I asked, hoping to end this conversation before it even started, I knew what was coming.

“No it can not wait. Where have you been? You left in the middle of the night, a week before you were meant to, I have been calling you for days and this is the first time I hear from you? This is such irresponsible behaviour, you should be ashamed, leaving your sister on her wedding day.”

“Sorry mum.” I said, trying to end the tirade.

“Don’t sorry mum me, young lady. Where have you been? There better be a good excuse for leaving us all without so much as a goodbye.”

I bit my lip, banging my head back on the cupboard behind me with frustration. “I went to Japan.” I said, smiling as the phone went silent. I had completely caught her off guard.

“Why on earth were you Japan” she asked, venom coated her words, she was angry with me, very angry.

“Queen had their first Japan tour, and I didn’t leave my sister on her wedding day, I left at the end of the reception, I did my duty as maid of honour.”

“I should have known you were following your rocker boyfriend around like a groupie, your relationship with him is an embarrassment to the whole family, you do know that don’t you?”

“I am not a groupie, we live together, we’re in love.” I said, choking on the last word, she didn’t need to know he no longer loved me, or that we weren’t together anymore, she’d be impossible if she knew what happened.

“Ahh yes, well don’t tell me I didn’t warn you, you’ll end up getting cheated on, he’ll leave you for a younger, slimmer model, and you’ll be left high and dry.”

I slammed the phone on the receiver. That was too close to the truth, the words pierced me with their accuracy, he had turned me in for someone else. I wasn’t good enough for him. We weren’t as steady and stable as I thought and mum was right about the whole thing.

I needed to get out of this apartment, I needed to stop living the lie of stability that I’d been living. I put a Hendrix record on and put the volume all the way up, I needed some loud music for this. I walked into the bedroom, and retrieved the spare suitcase from underneath the bed, opened it up on the bed and started sifting through our clothes and records, throwing my possessions into the suitcase. Walking into the living room, something caught my eye before I could remove my photos and books from the bookcase. There was a little white piece of paper beside the couch I had slept on last night. I picked it up and found it was a receipt, it must have fallen out of the pocket of Rogers coat.

As I read the faded words on the receipt, I fell to the floor in a dramatic heap. It was a receipt for a high-end jewellery store, He’d spent a lot of money in there, on something I never received. The only pieces of jewellery he’d given me, although pretty, were a lot cheaper and never from a store of this prestige. My heart sunk and I was hit by a wave of nausea. He was having an affair, not just a one night stand. That was the only explanation. My mind was racing as my mind filled with questions:

Who was she? How long had this been going on? When did he fall out of love with me? Why had he done this to me?

I sat there, on the floor, in the middle of the living room with tears streaming down my face in a heavy flow. I felt like an absolute fool. I had no idea just how right my mother had been about him. Had I just been completely blinded by his good looks and charming personality to see him for who he really was?

Knock Knock

If this was the Low’s, complaining about the level of noise coming from the apartment I was going to have their heads. I opened the door fully expecting my vexing neighbours but I was greeted to a head of unmistakable brown curls.

“Brian? What are you doing here?” I asked, opening the door wider for him, letting him through my front door.

“It was me” He said, looking down at me with sad eyes.

“You’re gonna have to give me a few more words Bri... little lost here” I said, walking away from him in the hallway as I went to turn the kettle on.

“It was me that you heard in Roger’s room.”

Taglist: @xgoingdownx, @perriwiinkle, @hiyadarlingirl, @asquiresofftime, @lady1505

[ladywinchester1967]

Off the Beaten Path I Reign:

Chapter 5: Bad Medicine

Warnings: Language, FLUFF, angst, feels, smut, Jealous!Dean, Badass!Kat, long chapter. I think that’s it. 

A/N: HERE WE ARE!!! Chapter 5!!!! I hope you guys are loving this as much as I am! Per usual; unbeta’d, all mistakes are mine, pictures are not. THIS IS A LONG ONE so grab a snack and/or a drink before reading this!

The fuck is this? Did I miss something?

CATCH UP!!

Chapter 1: Frozen Heart

Chapter 2: Red

Chapter 3: True

Chapter 4: Head Over Feet

"Now this boy's addicted 'cause your kiss is the drug" -Bon Jovi

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean's phone chimed beside him and he picked it up to see a call from Kat coming through.

“Hey,” he greeted her sweetly “you're on speaker, what's up?”

“I know this is kind of out of the blue,” she said “but remember when you visited me and said your bunker has an open door policy?”

“Yeah?” he asked, the memory flashing in his mind.

“Does that offer still stand?” she asked

Dean looked up at Sam with a shocked look on his face and Sam asked

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong" she said “I'm just kind of in a jam.”

“Of course, but are you kind of in a jam or are you definitely in a jam?” Dean asked, concern rolling over his face.

“Both I guess.” she said “Check your messages.” she told Dean as his phone chimed.

He opened the message and saw it was from Kat. It was a picture of her smiling next to the Impala, which; in turn, made Dean smile. He showed the picture to Sam, who smirked

"Go get her tiger." he said with a chuckle.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few minutes later, Dean came outside to see the Mustang parked next to the Impala and Kat leaned up against the Impala's trunk. She was wrapped in a heavy winter coat, boots and a hat.

"What're you doing here?" Dean asked in amazement and shock.

"I told you I wouldn't uproot my life unless I had a good reason," she said and walked towards him "Well, now I do."

"And what reason would that be?" He asked as they stood a foot away from one another

"I don't have a job or an apartment any more so, here I am." she said

"You quit your job?" He asked

"No, I got fired" she said and his eyes widened "I decked a guy for grabbing my ass and he pressed charges. He only agreed to drop them if I lost my job so, you can guess who they sided with."

"Ouch." Dean said

"And the lease was up on my apartment," she said with a shrug "and with no job well, you can see where that was going. Anyway, you said I always had a place on the team with you and Sam so I wanted to take you up on that. If you guys still want me around that is."

He smiled broadly

"Sounds good to me." he said

"Now, this doesn't mean I'm coming here and expecting anything from you.” she said “We're together and I like that, but I'm not expecting the white picket fence and two point five kids.”

Dean smirked

“Me neither.” he said

"I just want to help you two fight the good fight." she told him and reached for his hand.

"Okay," he said, taking her hand in his "Come on in."

Kat fit into living in the bunker quite easily, as if she had always been there. Both men had pointed out that she was half the reason they had food in the fridge. The three of them made an excellent hunting team, they played off of each other well and the Winchesters had gained a fresh set of eyes on cases.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two weeks after moving into the bunker, Kat walked by Dean's room. They hadn't really had time to discuss anything between them, she felt like the were exclusive, but something was holding her back. She couldn't put her finger on if it was her or him holding back. She crammed that thought deep into the back of her mind as she stopped at Dean's door and greeted him.

"I was gonna make some dinner, are you craving anything?" She asked

"I am," he said "But, I was going to see if you were up for a date."

"Really?" She asked, her face splitting into a grin

"Yes." he said

"Sure, let me go get changed and we'll go." she said, excited.

"Okay." he said, smirking at her

She turned and walked away and he shook his head as she did. He got up and found Sam in his room

"I'm taking Kat on a date." Dean told Sam

"Oh okay," Sam said "That's nice of you."

Dean shrugged

"I'm a hopeless romantic, what can I say?" He asked

Sam rolled his eyes

"You two have fun then." Sam said

"We will." Dean said and left Sam's room

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Twenty minutes later, Kat was ready to go.

"Ready?" She asked Dean when she entered the library, looking down at her purse. He looked up and saw she was wearing jeans tucked into a pair of knee high boots, a flowing blue top, she'd brushed her hair into a long ponytail and put on a little bit of makeup. He couldn't help but stare, she looked good anyway, but she looked DAMN good now.

"Uh," he said, and shook his head to quit staring at her "Yeah, ready when you are"

She looked up and asked

"What? Do I have lipstick on my teeth?" She asked and showed him her teeth.

"No, you're fine." he said, his heart thumping in his throat.

"Okay then, let's go." she said and nodded to the door.

"Sure." he said and grabbed his jacket.

They found a hole in the wall place that was also a micro-brewery. They decided to sample some of the beers on tap while they decided what to get.

"Will you split the pimento cheese dip with me?" She asked

"Hell yeah I will," he said, looking at the menu "Everything looks good."

"I know, I'm not sure what I want." she said as the waitress brought over their samples of beer. They put in their order for the pimento cheese fries and looked back at their menu.

"Oh, look at this, a sushi burger" she said, pointing to the menu "tempura avocado? I'm sold."

"Look at this one," he said "it has pimento cheese and jalapenos on it."

"That's all you man, that'll tear UP my stomach." she said

"Can't handle the spice?" He asked, grabbing one of the beer samples

"I can do a little bit, but jalapenos are too much for me." she said as she grabbed a beer sample as well "Cheers." she said and tipped her glass to him

"New beginnings." he said and clinked his glass to hers.

"I'll drink to that." she said and they both drank.

Later on, after demolishing their food, they hit a bar to drink and play darts.

"Another bet?" She asked as they ordered their drinks and walked over to the dart board

"Darts is MY game, so it's your funeral." he said

"I win, you pay the tab." she said

"I win, we get out of here." he said

Her cheeks went red and she grinned

"You're on Winchester." she said

After a round of darts, Kat was losing miserably, partially due to the fact she was a little drunk.

"One shot left." Dean said in her ear, also a little drunk

"Quit that," she said with a giggle "You're ruining my concentration."

"What? Because I'm talking in the ear?" He asked

"No." she said with a laugh

"Then what?" He asked

"You're doing that sexy tone thing with your voice." she told him as she lined up her shot

"Sexy tone thing?" He asked and laughed as he walked over to the table

"SHUT UP!" She shouted as she laughed

"Just take your shot Katniss Everdeen!" Dean shouted and finished his beer.

Kat lined up again and threw the dart, missing her intended spot. Dean laughed as she flopped her head backward

"Damn it!" She said

"Oh, I won!" He said, throwing his hands the air "That's for the pool game in Waco!"

She laughed and walked back over to him

"Well, it's not like losing this particular bet has any downsides," she said, finishing her drink "I'm still paying the tab."

"No, you are not." he said

She reached in her pocket and pulled a receipt out of her pocket

"Already took care of it while you were in the bathroom." she said and stuck her tongue out at him

"Damn it Kat." he said

They arrived back at the bunker and walked toward the door, joking around and laughing. They came through the door and didn't see Sam anywhere.

"Sammy?" Dean called out and he didn't get a response "I'm gonna go check his room"

"Okay," Kat said and something caught her eye "Wait," she said and walked over to a chair. There was a note on it saying

On a date, be back later - S

Kat picked up the note and walked over to Dean.

“Looks like we're alone.” she told him

He quickly read the note and said

“He probably means with the local library, but yeah, we're alone.”

"C'mere you big lug," she said and pulled him close to her. They kissed, and sparks immediately flew. Once they finished that kiss, they couldn't get enough of one another. His hand was on the back of her head and hers were all over his back. They parted, and she asked

"My room or yours?"

"Doesn't matter." he said

She grabbed his free hand and walked to her room. Once the door was shut, he pounced, pining her to the door. They kissed furiously, she couldn't get enough; the way he tasted, the way he smelled, the feeling of his lips on hers. She moaned against his mouth as she pulled her jacket off and cast it aside. He kissed all over her neck, taking his jacket off and running his hands up and down her body. She inhaled sharply as he gave her ear a playful bite. She gripped his hair and he did it again. She called out and he pulled back. She pulled her shirt off and he pulled his off and they met up again. She pushed him on the bed and crawled on top of him.

"You're frisky." he said, wrapping his arms around her

She laughed as she kissed him over and over again

"Yeah, just a little" she said, her hands sliding up his torso and linking behind his neck. His tongue met hers and she rolled, pulling him on top of her.

Later on, they laid in bed

"Well, that was a fun date" she said, her head on his shoulder

"One of the best ones I've been on" he said, intertwining his fingers with hers.

She smiled and said

"I have to agree with that."

He kissed her forehead and she squeezed his hand. They laid there for a while and he yawned

"I better get up," he said "or I'll fall asleep."

"You don't have to get up." she said

He looked down at her and she met his eyes

"I'm saying, if you want to, you can stay here. With me."

He smiled

"Yeah, I think I'd like that." he said

"Me too." she said

Sometime later; Kat woke with a start.

"Another fucking nightmare" she thought as she rubbed the tears out of her eyes and her heart hammered. The smell of stale cigarettes, window cleaner, half thought out dirty talk and mindless humping haunted her conscious mind as she checked the time on her phone and four a.m. glared back at her. She shook her head and checked on Dean. He was laying on his side out cold, one arm under the pillow and the other stretched out, away from her. She smiled and tried to settle back down as he rolled over in his sleep, facing her. He stretched an arm out and wrapped it around her waist. At first, she wasn't sure this is what she wanted; "keep him at a distance" her head told her, "better to be prepared than be caught off guard."

But her heart, her fucking heart, won this one. She gave in, scooting closer to him as his other arm wrapped around her. Steadying her breathing seemed to be easier with a warm body next to her. She placed her hand over his and he woke up a little bit.

"You okay?" He asked sleepily

"Yeah, I'm fine." she said, even though it wasn't the truth, it wasn't a lie either.

He gently kissed her head and told her

"I'm right here." and went back to sleep.

His words, said with no hesitation or anything behind them other than the reassurance he said them with, hit her like a ton of bricks. She bit her lip and smiled to herself.

This, Kat would later realize, was the moment she knew she was completely and hopelessly in love with Dean Winchester. As badly as she wanted to shield herself from getting hurt, as much as she wanted to keep him at arm's length and keep things light, she couldn't. She snuggled into his arms and went back to sleep, which was surprisingly easy.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next day, Dean and Kat were sparring in the gym when Sam got wind of a case.

"Where?" Dean asked as he wiped his face with a towel.

"Maryland," Sam said "Get this, a guy in the Navy that knew Bobby called. They've been having people dropping like flies and they can't figure out why. I'm talking perfectly healthy guy having a heart attack at 25."

"So, what? A witch?" Kat asked as she took a deep drink from her water bottle.

"Maybe, no sulfur smells reported so it probably isn't a demon." Sam said

"Guess we're going to Maryland then," Dean said and looked at Kat "You coming?"

"Hell yeah I am," she said "Let me take a quick shower, change and pack." she said and took off as Dean watched her walk away.

"I hate seeing her leave, but I LOVE watching her go." he said with a smirk

When they arrived in Maryland a few days later, they met up with Steven Dyer, a naval officer.

"Bobby was a friend of a friend," he explained as he showed Sam, Dean and Kat into his office and closed the door "When I found out about my guys and gals dropping for no reason, I figured this would be right up Bobby's alley."

"He passed away a few years ago," Sam said "But I'm glad you called."

"Well anyway, I'm glad you're all here." he said

"When did you first start noticing healthy people dying?" Dean asked

"Two weeks ago," Steven said and handed a file over to Kat "This was the first one, this guy, Jacob Sawyer, had only been in a year. He's out on a run with a few other guys and drops dead of a massive heart attack. They figure it was stress induced or a heart defect they didn't catch in his medical exam. A few days later, same thing" Steven said and handed a file to Sam "Genna Davis, she'd been in the Navy for four years before she dropped. Massive brain aneurysm."

"Who is the latest one?" Kat asked

"This one," Steven said and handed a file to Dean "Happened yesterday to one of our commanding officers, Pierre Lefebvre, working on one of the ships when he drops."

"Cause of death?" Sam asked

"Autopsy hasn't come back yet," Steven said "we should be getting the results soon."

"Did they have anything in common?" Kat asked "or maybe someone that would want to hurt them?"

"None that we can find, I've asked NCIS to look into this but they chalk it up to accidents that couldn't be prevented but I know in my gut something is going wrong." Steven said

"We can look into it, but we're going to need all the files you have on each of the victims," Dean said "That'll be a good start."

"I'll pull what I can, which is pretty much everything." Steven said

"Get us what you can, and we'll do the digging," Kat said "Do you think we can get over to the coroner and get the autopsy records? Maybe even look at their personal affects?"

"I'll get them personally." Steven said with a smile as he looked at Kat "There's a conference room across the hall you all can use if you need a place."

"Thanks, we appreciate that" Kat said, smiling back at him. A twinge of jealousy hit Dean's stomach and he said

"Okay, well let's get to work"

Later on, Steven brought over the victim's belongings that had been on them along with Pierre Lefebvre's autopsy records. Turns out he, too, had a sudden and massive heart attack.

"Can I get you some coffee or anything else to drink?" He asked, mainly looking at Kat when he did.

"I'm fine," Kat said "Dean? Sam?"

"We'll both have coffee" Dean said

Steven looked disappointed but said

"Sure, I'll be right back." and left the room. Dean rolled his eyes and each of them took a box. They didn't find any hex bags on the victims, nor any EMF on anything they owned. They then started going over the records, Kat who had Genna's records said

"This girl was a bad ass, two tours and gearing up for a third."

"When were her tours?" Sam asked

"Looks like the first was in 2012 to Kuwait for a year and the second was Iraq in 2014 for six months." Kat said

Sam, who had Pierre's records said

"It looks like Pierre was on that second tour too." he handed over a piece of paper to Kat who read over it.

"Yep, same place and everything." she said

"Jacob also did a stint in Iraq around that time." Dean said, holding up a paper and pointing to the section they needed to see.

"Well, that's one thing they all have in common." Kat said

"Think we can get into their houses and see if there are any hex bags there?" Dean asked

"If it is a witch," Sam said "We do need to go looking."

"What would make this not witchy?" Dean asked "Perfectly healthy people don't just drop."

"It could be a few things, I'm not ruling out witches," Sam said "I just don't want to pigeon hole this and it be something else."

"He's right, we have to consider everything until we know something different." Kat said as Steven reappeared.

"Any luck?" He asked as he handed coffee cups to Sam and Dean.

"We found out they were all on the same tour of duty together in 2014," Dean said, taking the cup of coffee "Care to tell us anything about that?"

Steven thought and said

"Nothing is coming to mind, but I'll check the records."

"Great, thank you." Sam said

Steven gave Kat one last smile and walked away.

"Guy is turning you into Swiss cheese." Dean commented as he left

"He's lying." Kat said

"I am not." Dean said

"Not you, Steven" Kat said "Notice how he didn't look at any of us when we asked him a question about the 2014 tour?"

"I figured he was just too busy staring you down to notice Sam and I in the room." Dean said

"You're both right," Sam said "He's hiding something and trying to make a move on Kat"

Kat rolled her eyes

"Gross." she said

Later that night, after checking into a hotel, Sam got a call from Steven saying he hadn't been able to find anything unusual in the records about the 2014 tour they had asked about.

"Okay, thanks for your time." Sam said and hung up. He told Kat and Dean what he'd said.

"Lying to a professional group of liars," Dean said "That's ballsy."

With no leads and Steven not cracking after Sam and Dean turned up the heat on him, Kat came up with an idea. Steven had invited her to the Navy's annual ball and she had told him that she would think about it. At their motel room, the Winchesters and Kat came up with their battle plan.

"Look, it's obvious he has a crush on me, so I can use that to our advantage." Kat said

"I have to hand it to her Dean, she's right" Sam said

"I'm not saying I'll go in alone," she said "I'll go with him like he asked and we'll see what we can dig up while we're there."

"Are you sure Anderson Cooper's doppelgänger will let all of us in?" Dean asked

"Oh, he will. Otherwise I won't go." Kat said "This guy clearly thinks I'm an idiot so I'll just use that to my advantage as well."

"Another reason not to like him." Dean said grumpily

"Well, looks like we're going to a Navy Ball." Kat said with a smile.

That night, they all got dressed up for the ball and when Kat came out of the bathroom, Dean's mouth literally dropped open. She was wearing a dark red dress that hugged all her curves with sleeves and a high slit in the leg. She'd styled her hair into loose curls that framed her face; wore black, winged eyeliner and scarlet red lipstick that showed off her pale skin. Dean gathered himself as she looked up and asked

"What do you think? Close enough for government work?"

Sam looked up and said

"Kat, no offense but wow."

She laughed and said

"I'll take that as a yes. Dean, can you finish zipping me up?" And turned around

He swallowed, cleared his throat and said

"Uh, yeah sure" and walked over to her. She moved her hair out of the way and he pulled the zipper on the back of the dress all the way up and she turned around

"Thanks" she said and caught a glimpse of him "Hang on, your tie is crooked." she said and adjusted it. When it was to her liking, she brushed his shoulders off and said

"You two clean up nice."

When they arrived at the ball, they parked the Impala a few blocks away and walked up to the venue, Steven had said he'd meet them outside and to just look for him.

"We'll be close by." Sam assured Kat

"But not too close," she said "I'm trying to get information out of him and I can't if you two beasts are guarding me like a vault at Gringotts."

"Point taken." Sam said

"Just be careful." Dean said, looking her up and down again, he hadn't been able to stop staring at her since they left the motel room. Sam had noticed and either Kat was pleasantly oblivious or to focused on the task at hand to pay much attention to him. As they walked up, Kat was able to find Steven quickly.

"Three o'clock," she said, nodding to him. They headed toward him and his eyes landed on Kat. Dean rolled his eyes as he looked like a wolf in the old Looney Toons cartoons where his tongue flopped out of his mouth and his eyes went into giant heart shapes.

"Katlynn, you look beautiful." Steven said as they reached him

"Thank you," Kat said and he offered her his arm. She took it and gave the Winchesters one last glance before walking with him up the stairs. Sam and Dean stayed a few paces behind Kat and Steven chatted.

"You stare any harder you're going to burn holes in her" Sam said to Dean

"What?" Dean asked as he watched Steven open the door and guide Kat through, his hand touching the small of her back. Intense jealousy bubbled up in his stomach as they walked through the door, flashing their tickets at the door. Inside, every person they saw was dressed in formal attire and milling around. Waiters and waitresses moved among the guests offering hors devours and drinks. Sam and Dean grabbed what they could while keeping an eye on Kat. She and Steven made their way over to a group of people who it looked like Steven was introducing Kat to. She greeted and shook hands, smiling at all of them. Dean watched as all of the guys stared at Kat, even though most of them had dates on their arms.

"Think she'd gotten anything yet?" Dean asked

"Dean we've been here all of fifteen seconds, I doubt she'd gotten anything of note just yet." Sam said

Dean stared as Steven flagged down a waiter and grabbed he and Kat something to drink. He handed Kat a glass, which she accepted.

It seemed to go on for a millennium, but Kat broke away from Steven about half way through the event and made her way over to Sam and Dean.

"I got nothing" she said "I've batted my eye lashes for two hours and NOTHING."

"So maybe he doesn't know anything." Dean said

"He knows something," Kat said "And I'm going to get it out of him."

"What're you gonna do?" Sam asked

"Kick it up a notch," Kat said with a shrug

Dean watched, torn between a fit of jealousy and anger. HE should be the one making her laugh, HE should be the one with his arm around her shoulders and fetching her drinks. Kat turned her attention to a woman and Dean carefully watched as, with a slight of hand, Steven slipped something into the glass Kat was holding. In a rage, Dean seemed to cross the room in two steps as he grabbed Kat's wrist.

“I need to borrow you for a second.” he said through gritted teeth.

Either blissfully unaware or paying her role to the tee, Kat gave the people surrounding her a grin.

“Excuse me everyone.” she said with a nod as Dean tugged her away. She quickly yanked her hand out of his grasp as soon as they were out of sight and then Kat grabbed Dean by the arm and pulled him into the hallway as the doors to the ballroom swung shut behind them.

"QUIT IT!" She exclaimed at him

"Listen, he-" Dean started

"NO, you listen," she said "You're treating me differently because I'm a girl and we're together, but you have GOT to let me do my job!"

"He put something in your drink, I saw it!" Dean yelled "Your judgment is clouded because he's being a gentleman."

"Don't question my judgment!" She yelled "I'm doing what I have to do to get what I need!"

"By subjecting yourself to god knows what he put in your drink?" Dean asked, outraged

"I know what he did okay?" Kat said "I'm not an idiot, I saw it and while you were charging across the room like a bull in a china shop, I switched my drink with his."

He stared at her for a second and then the next thing he knew, his and mouth was on hers as he pinned her against the wall. They kissed fast and furiously, their tongues darting in and out of each other's mouths. When they parted to catch their breath, he looked her face over and said

"I don't give you nearly enough credit."

"About time you realize that." she said and kissed him again.

"I'm sorry," he said "I just don't want you getting hurt."

"I can take care of myself," she said "I have been for a long time."

"But you're here helping us out and if something happens to you, I'm responsible. It's my job to look after you." Dean told her

"You don't have an obligation to me Dean," she told him "I appreciate you looking out for me, but that's not your job."

"Yes, it is." he said

"Look," she started

"No, YOU look" he said and released her "You're giving mixed signals. Just when I think we're getting closer, you push me away. You wanna be with me, but you're keeping me at arm's length.”

"I," she started, her heart hammering "I don't know." she lied

"You know," he said “I can tell.”

"We can have this conversation later," she said, and turned to walk away. He grabbed her arm and said

"No, we're having it now. Tell me what you want."

She wouldn't look at him at first, she bit her lip and didn't meet his eyes. She took a few deep breaths and said

"I want you okay?" She finally met his eyes, she looked sad "I care about you, and I want to wake up to you next to me every morning but I can't jump in without knowing if you'll catch me."

He studied her face for a long few seconds but didn't say a word. She jerked her arm away and walked back into the ballroom. Dean followed a minute or so later and looked around for Sam. Dean found him flirting with a girl in a purple dress. Normally, Dean wasn't one to interrupt Sam flirting with a girl, but this was important.

"Hey, I need to borrow you" giving him a look that signified this was important.

"I'm sorry," Sam said "Trina, this is my brother Dean. She knew Genna."

"I really want to hear about this, but Kat needs us." Dean said

Sam's expression dropped as he searched for Kat.

"Out that door." Dean said, nodding to a side door.

"I'll be right back" Sam told Trina as he and Dean went for the side door.

When they got into the hallway, they found Kat pinning Steven to the ground. She had her knee on the back of his neck and his arm pulled behind him.

"What happened?!" Dean asked as he approached

"Someone decided not only was spiking my drink a good idea, but so was grabbing my ass." she told them "Now I'm going to ask nicely one more time or I'll snap your arm in half. Who is the witch and why do they want all of the soldiers on that mission dead?"

Steven looked like he was struggling to breath when he said

"It's me okay?! Me!"

"Don't lie to me, I know it isn't you." Kat said as Sam and Dean stood by.

"Let's take this somewhere else G. I. Jane" Dean said. Literally anyone could walk in and they would all be in a heap of trouble.

"I'll let him up, one of you grab him" she said and removed her knee from the back of his neck. Dean grabbed Steven's collar and Kat released his arm. Dean jerked him up off the ground and the three of them walked to a nearby janitor's closet.

"You okay?" Sam asked Kat

"I'm fine" she said quickly as she followed behind Dean. They shuffled into the janitor's closet and Dean held Steven up by his shirt collar.

"You roped us into this, now you tell us what's going on." Dean said

"I had to!" Steven told him "She was going to kill me if I didn't."

"Who?" Sam asked

"Tom's wife" Steven said "He was in the same squadron as Jacob, Pierre and Genna. It was a top-secret mission, something went wrong, we're not sure what."

"Quit lying." Kat said Steven didn't say anything and Kat walked over to him, drawing a knife out from under her skirt. "I said quit lying." she said and pressed the knife against his cheek

"Okay, okay" he said "There was an IED we didn't know about and the vehicle they were in hit it. Genna, Jacob and Pierre made it out safely but Tom didn't. She said they didn't do enough to save him. I heard the transmissions, they did everything they could but he died before the medics could get to them."

"Don't you think this is something you should've told us?" Dean asked

"She told me to keep my mouth shut or I was I next." he said

Dean released him and asked

"Where is she?"

"At home, I think." Steven said, straightening his collar.

"We need to go track her down and put an end to this," Sam said "How many more were in that squadron?"

"Three." he said

"Let's go." Kat said, but before she left, she turned around and punched Steven in the stomach. He doubled over in pain, coughing and she said "That's for spiking my drink, asshole." and the three of them turned and left the janitor's closet.

Once they were in the Impala, Dean drove while Kat and Sam tracked down Tom's wife, Sarah.

"Got the address" Kat said and pulled it up on her phone.

"We better move quick," Sam said "An ambulance just got called to the ball."

"Hopefully it's Steven succumbing to the roofie he tried to get me with." Kat said with an angry tone in her voice.

They traveled to the address and changed out of their nice outfits and into their regular hunting outfits. Armed with magazines full of Witch killing bullets, the three of them spread out around the house. Dean went to the front, Sam around the left and Kat on the right. The windows were low enough where Kat could see inside; the living room was lit by dozens and dozens of candles and she could make out at least four figures.

"Fuck," she swore under her breath, there was no way this would be a fair fight. She kept her gun drawn as she made her way around to the back of the house. She saw Sam, who gave her the all clear signal.

"How many did you see?" He asked

"I counted four." she told him

"I saw six." he said

"I'm comfortable with six." she said

"Where's Dean?" She asked, just then, she heard the front door get kicked in "That answers that." she said as she and Sam raced up the stairs to the back door. Sam kicked the door and went through it first. Kat came up behind him, they ran down a narrow hallway and into a living room. A woman turned around and cast her hand toward Sam and Kat, who were pinned against the wall by an unseen force.

"And you brought back up." she said

Kat's eyes darted around the room, there were six witches in a circle, Dean was tied to a chair in the middle of the circle.

"You let him go!" Sam yelled

"First come, first serve" she said "Don't worry, you two are next."

"What are you going to do?" Kat asked

The woman stepped forward and said

"All magic comes with a price," she said "You think I can keep avenging my husband's death with no sacrifices? Nature doesn't work that way."

"So, who have you been sacrificing in the mean time?" Sam asked

"Wanderers, homeless people, random hunters that break into my house" Sarah said "It's lucky that there's three of you because that's exactly how many are left until my husband is avenged."

"Avenging your husband won't bring him back." Dean said

"I don't care about bringing him back," Sarah said, tears in her eyes "I'm holding the people responsible accountable."

"Sarah, it was an IED" Kat told her "No one saw it and his companions did everything they could to keep him alive."

"Oh, is that what they told you?" She asked, "Of course that's what they told you" she wiped the tears away and said "It was a hazing gone wrong. I talked to my husband after he passed. It was initiation, he had to stand on top of the vehicle while it was moving. They braked suddenly, and he went flying."

"I'm sorry that happened to him," Sam said, his eyes darting to Dean, who was working to untie the knots "But it was an accident"

"If they hadn't been doing something so STUPID, he would still be here!" She shouted "And then they covered it up instead of owning up to their mistake!"

The ropes holding Dean came undone and he launched himself forward, tackling Sarah to the ground. Losing her concentration, Kat and Sam dropped to the floor and aimed their guns at the other witches.

"You think a bullet will kill us?" One of them with long curls and dark skin asked

"Let's find out." Kat said and with one hand motion, the witch flung the guns out of their hands and shot Dean backwards into the chair he'd been in. Two other witches flung their hands out, using magic to pin Sam and Kat against opposite walls.

"Wait, wait!" Kat said "Take me first."

"No, Kat!" Dean yelled

Sarah seemed pleased by this

"Now you'll see what it's like to lose the person you love." she said, looking at Dean. She marched over to Kat and gripped her throat as she and the other witches started to chant.

Kat could feel Sarah's grip tightening around her throat as she struggled against Sarah's grasp. The witches moved in, their attention on Kat, whose vision was starting to get black around the edges, her face turning purple. Sarah's eyes opened and they were a glowing shade of purple. Without warning, shots rang out as Sam and Dean started shooting the witches and they dropped like sacks of potatoes. Sarah turned her attention from Kat to the boys, letting out a growl. She dropped Kat who coughed for air and Sarah flung the Winchesters back. Sam crashed into a china cabinet while Dean hit a coffee table, smashing it to splinters.

"THEY WILL PAY!" Sarah screamed

A shot rang out and Dean shot up into a sitting position. Sarah's eyes had gone back to their normal color and she had a bullet wound in her forehead. She dropped to the ground as Kat stood there, smoking gun in her hands.

"You two okay?" She asked. Sam struggled to get up, gripping his ribs and Dean stood up gingerly as they heard sirens in the distance.

"Let's get out of here" she said and they all ran for the front door.

They made quick work of gathering their belongings and hitting the road back to Kansas. Once they were a few hours outside Maryland, Kat patched all of them up. She bound Sam's ribs and cleaned up her and Dean's wounds, then they hit the road again. On the drive back, Kat didn't say much to Dean. She sat in the back of the Impala, looking out the window. When they arrived back in Kansas, Kat said she was going to take a shower and disappeared into the back of the bunker.

"What happened between you two?" Sam asked, wincing as he sat down.

Dean sighed

"She's afraid of getting hurt, I can't say I blame her, but I don't know if I can give her what she needs.”

he said and poured himself a drink.

"What makes you think you can't?" Sam asked

Dean knocked back his glass of whiskey and said

"She deserves someone better than me"

"Dean, if she didn't think you were the best for her, she wouldn't have risked her life for you today" Sam told him "I know you care about her more than you let on, you NEED to take that leap Dean."

"I'm not the one scared of falling, she is" Dean said

"I think you're both scared and guarded,” Sam said “But around one another, you're tender and sweet.” he added. “Don't let a good person get away because you're to scared to admit that you're scared.”

Dean grumbled to himself, knocked back his drink and walked away.

Kat was sitting in bed, braiding her hair after her shower when a knock came at the door.

"Come in" she said and looked up as Dean walked through the door. "Hey" she greeted him as he closed the door behind him. She tied off her braid as he spoke

“What is it you want from me Kat?” Dean asked

She suddenly felt like she had a weight on her chest as she looked away. She stood, took a deep breath and looked up at him

“I want you,” she told him “All of you. The two of us, together”

He stared at her and shook his head

“I don’t think-“ he said, his voice shaking. He took a deep breath “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Dean,” she said “we are together in the traditional sense, but I’m tired of waiting for you to see how much I care. I didn’t come here expecting anything but,” she raked her hand through her hair “but god damn it.”

“God damn it what?” He asked

A sudden coldness spread through her chest as she fought to regain her composure.

“Dean, I’m not a mind reader, so if you have something to say, just say it.” she told him

“I can’t.” he said

“Why?” She asked

He looked angry and finally said

“Because I’m fucking scared okay? I’m scared you’re gonna figure out what a fuck up I really am and take off running for the hills, which honestly, is exactly what you should be doing.”

Kat was stunned into silence and he went on

“You don’t know the things I’ve done, people I’ve hurt all in the name of the job.” He raked his hand through his hair “I’ve failed and let down everyone close to me and I can handle it. But you?” He shook his head “I can’t let you down. You deserve better than that, better than me and better than what I can give you”

She crossed her arms over her chest as he went on, finally laying it all on the table.

“I mean, do you REALLY want to be with someone that tortured souls in hell for forty years and LIKED it?” He asked her “someone that killed every living thing they came across in purgatory for the fun of it?” She watched as the anxiety overwhelmed his facial expression “I sold my soul Kat. My soul for fuck’s sake, and I tricked my brother into letting an angel possess him. Is that REALLY what you want to be with?”

“Dean,” she said quietly as she looked away from him. She let out a breath and then continued as she looked back at him “you’re so much more than the monster you claim to be.”

“No I’m not,” he told her “I’ve always been worth more dead than alive.”

“You stop that right there,” she told him angrily “I never want to hear you say that again. You are NOT worthless Dean Winchester. You sold your soul, went to hell and tricked your brother to save him, you ended up in purgatory trying to save countless lives. If that isn’t heroic then what is? I mean I know all you think you’re good for is being a grunt but, damn it Dean, you’re more than that.”

He didn’t interrupt as she went on

“You have such a great capacity to love and care. You could easily let the bitterness of everything you’ve done eat you alive but you don’t. You charge into every fight like it’s your last. You look after Sam like he’s the last living person on earth. You always hug and kiss me like it’s the last time you’ll ever do it.” Tears welled in her eyes, she inhaled trying to keep them at bay “You don’t see any goodness in yourself, but those around you do. You’re a wonderful, wonderful man Dean and any girl worth her salt would be proud to have you on her arm.”

The gravity of her words sunk in as he stared into her eyes. Her slightly over large green eyes always gave her away, he couldn’t see a hint of a lie in them. She turned to walk away, needing a minute to herself when he finally spoke

“What if that girl was you?” He asked

She stopped and turned back around, he hadn’t moved from where he was standing, his stance was steady, like he was bracing himself for the worst, but his expression looked hopeful.

“Then that would make me probably the happiest I’ve been in years.” she admitted, he took a step toward her as she kept talking “And if I could just be with you and be able to tell the whole world you’re mine, that would be all I would need.”

He stood in front of her, cupping her face in his hands. He bent down and kissed her and when he pulled back he asked

“You want to be with me?”

“More than anything.” she told him

A slow smile crossed his face as his thumb ran over her cheek

“Good, because I want to be with you too.”

Her face split into a huge grin and she threw her arms around his midsection. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand in her hair and the other on her back. They held each other for a while and when she pulled back, she kissed him.

“You mean it?” She asked

He nodded

“I’ve kept you at a distance to protect you,” he told her “from me and all the shit that seems to follow me.”

She shrugged

“Hey, back at you.” she told him “There's a lot I haven't told you and for good reason.”

He chewed on his lip and said

“We'll get there, when you're ready. You and me right?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely” She said and he laughed. They kissed again and he said

“Okay, you and me then. Together.”

“Officially.” She said with a little nod.

“Sam’s gonna wonder what took us so damn long.” he said and she smiled

“We’re both stubborn and hard headed, that’s what.” she told him.

“No truer words have ever been spoken” he said and she grinned “but now that you’re mine, I don’t wanna let go. Ever.”

“Promise?” She asked

“I promise” he said

“Good” she told him and kissed him deeply.

He wrapped her up into his arms and gripped her tightly. She hugged back, just as tightly and said

"Don't hurt me, please."

"I won't." he said.

"I mean it Dean; don't you dare hurt me" she told him and pulled back. He put his hand on the back of her head, pressed his forehead to hers and said

"That's why you have to trust me."

She opened her eyes and he was looking back at her. She leaned in and kissed him deeply. She crawled into his lap, kissing him over and over again. Her heart hammered as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

Could this really work? She asked herself, her mouth over taking his and his grip tightening on her. Her tongue wound its way into his mouth as she let this thought roll over and over in her head. His lips left hers and he kissed all over her neck and down her collar bone. Even if it crashed and burned, she thought, at least she could enjoy the ride.

He laid her on her back and pressed his hips into hers. She bit her lip as he kissed her neck and throat. She let one hand grip the back of his head while the other ran up and down his back, his scent wrapping around her.

"Mmhhh, make love to me" she said in a breathy tone, close to his ear.

He picked his head up, his eyes meet hers and nodded slightly. He kissed her, his kisses were softer, less urgent than before. He ran his hands down her thighs and up again, untying the waist band of her shorts and he slid them off easily. Kat reached down to pull her tank top off and he pushed her hands away, shaking his head.

"Not yet." he said and peeled his own shirt off, casting it aside. He gripped behind her knees and pulled her closer to him. She grinned as their lips met again, he held her face in his hand, the other hand roaming all over her body. Her hands went from around his midsection, to his back where she flattened them across is strong shoulders, she wrapped her legs around his waist and grinding her hips into his. He placed her hands above her head, intertwining his fingers with hers to hold her hands in place. He then let his hands travel down her arms, the sides of her body and back up again. He did this a second time and then he sat up. He let his hands move down to her thighs, her knees and then back up again. He then hooked his thumbs into her panties and pulled them off, pitching them aside. She watched as he dipped his head down; kissing her belly, her hips and inner thighs. She tilted her head back, letting out a sigh. She felt his mouth on her and she inhaled sharply.

"Oh!" She called out, his mouth working her. She squirmed under his touch, the sensation was nothing like what she had experienced before. No one before him had ever taken into account what she might like or what got her going, but he did.

"OH!" She called out again, a spike of pleasure rising from down there. She gripped the pillow by her head, arching her back. She laid her back flat on the bed and threw her head back, moaning. His hands gently, but firmly grasped her thighs.

"Yes, yes!" she breathed out, feeling his tongue on her. It felt like a lightning bolt had run straight up her spine. He sat up on his knees and she shot up off of the bed, nearly ripping his pants and underwear off. He took her tank top off and unhooked her bra as she pushed him onto his back and got on top of him. She sank down on top of him, moaning. She moved her hips and kissed him, his fingers digging into her flesh. Without warning, he hooked her legs around his waist and flipped her on to her back. She pressed her fingers into his shoulders as he pushed in and out of her, kissing her over and over again. She moaned against his mouth and he started kissing her neck. She pulled her hands around to his chest and up, placing them behind his neck and letting one hand grip his hair.

"Dean, Dean." she moaned as he moved on top of her. His eyes briefly met hers and he kissed her. His lips left hers and she could hear him moaning in her ear.

"Mhhh, Kat." he breathed, he pulled her up so that she was straddling his lap, his arms wrapped around her, his fingertips digging into her back. She wrapped her arms around him and whimpered. She kissed all over his neck, shoulders and collar bone. He sighed, and then moaned when she gave his neck a playful bite. He pushed into her harder

"Ah, AHH!" She cried out, she was tipping over the edge.

"Let go." he said, stroking her hair

She tilted her head back and called out as she exploded around him, the release had never been this intense before. She'd swear later on that she had seen spots. He groaned finding his own release and they fell back on the bed, breathing hard.

That night, Kat was laying in Dean's arms, her head on his chest while he slept. She watched as his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. For the first time in a long, long time she felt safe.

"I love you" she whispered to him and dozed off. She felt him kiss her forehead and heard him mumble

"Love you" in his sleep

She smiled to herself and held him tighter.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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Dean/ Jensen

@spnbaby-67​ @akshi8278​

[one-direction-fan-fiction]

Chapter 9

(Harry POV)

nothing quite compares to the heart wrenching feeling of listening to the person you love explain one of the most heinous acts that can be done to someone, was done to them.

while i was sitting there in the police station waiting for Jess to come back out all i can think about is how much i want to kick the shit out of the guy who did this to the most beautiful and loving person i have ever met. i never could imagine what would drive on person to harm another... but now i get it. i swear if i ever come face to face with the asshole who did this. but seeing her face, even with the sad expression she has, all i want to do is hold her and never let her go. before we left the precinct we where stopped boy a man not much older then i am wearing a blue police uniform. “sorry, but i’ve been assigned to look after you for the time being. make sure you’re safe. it’s just a persuasion.” he says directly to Jess. i smile at the thought of having an extra set of eyes watching out for her. when i look over to her she’s smiling for the first time since she told me. “thank you.” she whispers turning to the door and walking away with the rest of us following close behind.

(Jess POV)

i’ve never been more embarrassed in my entire life! having to tell my friends, father and boyfriend about the most weak and humiliating moment of my life. which was something i never wanted anyone to know about and now everyone important to me knows and will never look or treat me the same again. and now there is a stranger sitting in his car outside my house to insure my safety.

when we get back home it’s late but none of us are really tired. so, the guys and i just watch a movie. my father excuses himself early on to go to bed leaving us to quietly watch some stupid, cheesy movie none of us have ever seen before. Harry hasn’t let go of me since we left the precinct. Niall and Liam are both sitting on the floor in front of us trying to pretend they aren’t worried about me. Louis is sitting on the other side of me occasionally letting his hand wander onto mine and squeezing it just to let me know he’s there. and then there’s Zayn who i constantly find staring at me. i don’t know why he hasn’t seemed to be able to keep his eyes off of me since i told him about Jay. we’ve never even had a real conversation. before i know it i’ve fallen asleep with my head on Harry’s lap and my legs across Louis’. 

****

the next morning i wake to a loud crash in the kitchen. when i look around i see all the guys still sleeping. i gently shift Harry off of my side moving his hand from where it laid across my hip and at the same time trying not to hit Louis, Liam or Niall as i get to my feet. i notice that Zayn had somehow moved closer to the couch where i slept as i walked to the kitchen to see what the noise was. “Ella?” i say to the tall woman with her back turned to me. “Jess, good morning. i saw your friends where here. is everything alright?” she asks sweetly hints of concern in her voice. “oh god we didn’t wake you last night did we?” i ask her completely forgetting about the events of last night for a moment. “no, no you didn’t don’t worry. but, it did make me wonder why you got in so late and why they stayed all night?” i look at her confused for a second before it all comes flooding back in. “oh, right i forgot i didn’t tell you.” she looks at me confused. “didn’t tell me what?” she asks. “well, a couple days ago someone from my past came back...” then i continue to explain the same thing that i’ve now explained 4 times already. why not make it a fifth it’s not like i could possibly get any more embarrassed.

once my ‘story’ is finished she embraces me in her arms. “it’s okay, you’re safe now. i know we haven’t known each other for very long. but, i care for you and i won’t let anything happen to you. not while you’re under my roof.” she whispers in my ear pulling me even closer before taking a step back and looking me it the eyes with a comforting smile on her face. for the first time when i smile back at her it’s not forced, i’m genuinely smiling... and it feels good!

i help her make coffee for everyone before returning to the living room just as they begin waking up. “morning boys.” i say with a surprising amount of cheer in my voice that even throws me off. “you’re awfully chipper for so early in the morning.” Louis says sheepishly ribbing his tired eyes. “yeah, well the only thing i’m tired of is being sad. so i’ve decided not to be. Jay is not going to rule my life anymore.” i look around the room to see 5 tired guys staring at me with a mixture of happy, confused, tired and surprised looks on their faces. “that’s quite the revelation for 6 o’clock in the morning.” Liam says grabbing a cup of coffee of the table. “you guys are just slackers i guess.” i say with a soft chuckle. “i guess so. it’s nice to see you smile.” Harry says getting to his feet to press a gentle kiss to my cheek. i scoff and bring him back for a proper kiss on the lips. “get a room you two!” Zayn hollers. i roll my eyes at him. “your the ones in my house.” i respond sarcastically. “wow! we can leave if you want?” Louis says being cheeky. i shake my head. “you guys are idiots.”

they all chuckle because they know it’s true. after we all finish our coffees we all decide to head to Harry’s place for the afternoon. i tell Ella where we are going and i leave a note for my dad to make sure he knows i’m alright and just as i’m about to head back downstairs to join the guys i get a text message that reads ‘Jess, it’s me, Jay. i need to see you. come alone and no one has to get hurt. i still love you.’ my heart stops and everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion. i take a deep unsteady breath before answering ‘okay, i’ll meet you. just give me an hour and i’ll meet you where ever.’ i can almost feel the smile on his face when he responds saying ‘good! meet me in the alleyway off Greek St. in 1 hour.’ i try to put a smile on my face before going back downstairs so that they don’t think anything is wrong. and i think it works because they all smile back at me as we walk out to the car.

we get to Harry’s place faster then i expected. when we walk through the door i know that i need to find a way to to leave and for none of them follow. “Harry can i talk to you for a minute?” the guys all look at me and then over to him and by the looks on their faces i’m guessing they where thinking i wanted to make out with him or something ‘weird’ like that. “yeah, sure.” he says with a hesitant smirk. i pull him into an empty room close by.

“so, what did you want to talk to me about?” i look up at him trying to hold back the tears that are just under the surface trying to break out. “i--i love you...” i say bluntly. the smirk he had on his face grows into a full smile with both dimples out on display. “i love you too!” he says in return. i try to hold back a smile because i know what i have to say next will ruin this perfect moment. “but, i can’t do this anymore. every moment we spend together i’m putting you in more and more danger and i can’t even imagine anything happening to you. especially if it’s because of me...” before i can finish he raises his hand to stop me from talking. “what do you mean ‘danger’? has he threatened you?” he asks sounding concerned even though i basically just broke up with him. “no, no it’s nothing like that. i’m more worried about what he’ll do to you if he finds out we’re together and that i’m happy. so, this... us is over.” i say with tears now falling down my face. “i’m not leaving you at a time like this. you don’t have to go through this alone... not anymore. nothing’s going to happen to me.” he says now crying himself. “i’m sorry but you don’t know Jay like i do. it’s over.” then i walk out of the room then it turns into a run when i hear Louis’ voice. i need to get out of there, i can’t face them.

with tears running down my face i burst through the front door, slamming it behind me.

(Harry POV)

i come out moments later tears staining my cheeks. the guys are standing at the front door staring at me in confusion. “what’s wrong with Jess? why did she leave?... are you alright?” Louis asks when he sees my face. “she broke up with me.” i whisper my feet frozen where i stood. “what? why?” Zayn asks putting his hand comfortingly on my shoulder. “she said it was because she wanted to protect me... from Jay.” i say shaking my head still not believing a single word of it. before i know it Louis has wrapped me up in his arms with the rest of the guys not far behind.

what would i do without them.

(Jess POV)

after running for what feels like hours but was actually just a few minutes i find a busy enough street to hail a cab. i give the driver the street name and then i just sit in the back seat silently thinking about what Jay could possibly want. but, i’m overwhelmed with the thought of how i hurt Harry, which was the last thing i ever wanted to do.

pulling up to the alley where Jay’s shadow stood waiting. i wait until the cab drives away before approaching Jay with a deep, shaky breath. “god it’s good to see your face.” the deep, rugged voice i’ll never be able to forget speaks from behind the darkness. “i’d say the same but i can’t see you while you’re lurking in the shadows like a coward.” when he takes a step forward into the light i take a step back instinctively trying to protect myself from him. “where’s your little boyfriend?” he asks pointedly. “i broke up with him. i didn’t need you going after him.” i say aggressively. “good, because i want you back Jess. i love you.” i shake my head in disbelief. “you don’t love me! if you did you never would have done ‘that’ to me.”  he takes a step forward reaching for my hand. i pull away making him angry. “i’ve changed, i promise. i’ll never hurt you again because i DO love you.” then he starts taking more steps forward forcing me into the wall. he places a hand on either side of my head keeping me pined against the wall. “you will be with me or you will never be with anyone.” i look him straight in the eyes and with the strongest voice i can manage i say “i will never be with you! i don’t love you... not anymore.” that’s what sends him over the edge because the next thing i know i’m on the ground with a searing pain in my face. he kicks me repeatedly in the stomach until everything goes black.

[the-jade-cross]

The Lion, the Witch, and the Elph- Chapter 3

he three Pevensies were finding it hard to keep up with Rhea. The girl’s feet didn’t even sink into the snow, so she was running up the hill as if it was just grass, not knee-deep snow. Rhea was halfway up the hill when she saw their dilemma and running back down the hill, she grabbed Beaver by the scruff of the neck and tucked him under one arm and with the other arm, she pulled Lucy onto her back. The little girl immediately wrapped her arms around the girl’s neck and held on tightly as Rhea began to run up the hill again.

Without having to wait for Beaver and Lucy, Susan and Peter were able to pick up their pace and rush to the top of the hill. When they got there, Rhea had already arrived and had placed the beaver and Lucy down. Lucy was staring open mouthed at the huge castle that lay before them in the distance while Beaver was nervously hiding slightly behind Rhea’s leg as if whoever was in the castle could see them from that distance.

“EDMUND!” Lucy cried when she spied the small dot of her brother enter the castle.

“SH!” Beaver hissed, “They’ll hear you!” Peter began to run forward, but Beaver leapt forward and grabbed his pant leg. Peter kicked his leg out, knocking Beaver to the side and began to run again. However, something seemed to latch onto his left arm and before he knew what was happening, he was thrown over someone’s shoulder and landed in the snow on his back with a soft groan.

He looked up to see Rhea standing over him, a worried but stern look on her face, “Are you looking for a death wish?”

“I’m going after my brother!” Peter hissed, getting to his feet again but before he could get off his knees, Rhea put a hand on his shoulder.

“The witch wants you to do just that.” She said calmly.

“Whatever for?” Susan demanded, getting impatient.

“To keep the prophecy from coming true!” Beaver yelled, “To kill you!” There was a silence before Susan and Peter began arguing. However, Rhea didn’t hear half of the argument or the part where Beaver and Lucy interrupted for, she caught a whiff of something. The hair on her arms stood up and her slightly pointy ears twitched at a sound that wasn’t the usual sound of snow falling and siblings talking. There was something near….

“Rhea?” Beaver called.

Peter and Susan looked away from where they had been talking and saw that Rhea had walked around them in a large circle, her eyes scanning the trees around them, turning her head occasionally to listen. Her eyebrows were down, and her lips pursed together.

“What’s wrong?” Susan asked, noting the look of alarm in the girl’s eyes.

Rhea froze in her tracks before spinning around, her green eyes falling on the ice castle in the distance.

“We need to leave now!” she hissed.

“What’s wrong?” Lucy and Peter asked in unison.

Rhea rushed over and grabbing Lucy, swung her on her back, “the witch has sent her wolves after you. We need to get Mrs. Beaver and leave now!”

Without a second thought, Peter grabbed Beaver up and the small group went tumbling down the steep hill towards the dam. When they burst through the door, Peter dumped Beaver on the floor. “Hurry momma! They’re after us!”

Mrs. Beaver began to bustle about, preparing food and items. Susan soon joined her with Peter telling them to hurry up every few seconds. Rhea rushed to one of the windows and peered out.

“They’re here,” she whispered, “now!”

Beaver rushed over to a door and threw it open, revealing a tunnel. He hopped down with Mrs. Beaver following close behind. Peter followed before helping Susan down. Rhea then picked Lucy up and handed her down to Peter. Taking one last look at the place, Rhea jumped down into the hole. Even though she landed perfectly and didn’t lose her balance, Peter reached forward and grabbed her forearms to support her.

The girl smiled at him before grabbing Lucy’s hand and rushing after the beavers.

When they finally burst out of the tunnel, Rhea was the last one out and she spun around, pushing a barrel against the entrance.

“What happened here?” Peter demanded, looking around at the frozen animals.

“This is what happens when someone opposes the witch,” a voice remarked.

Beaver lunged towards the fox that had appeared, but Mrs. Beaver held him back.

“Wait,” Rhea cried, rushing to plant herself between the fox and the others, “He’s a friend.” To confirm this, the fox hopped down from his perch and bowed his head towards the girl, “Lady Rhea. A pleasure to see you again.”

The girl smiled and bowed her head to the fox, “Same here honorable fox. However, we’re in a tight spot.” The fox nodded before nodding towards a large pine nearby. The beavers rushed over to it and picking them up one at a time, Rhea placed them on the lowest branch while they scurried up higher. Susan rushed over and Rhea bent down to give the girl a boost. When Susan was up, Rhea handed Lucy up to her while the two girls climbed higher. Peter turned to Rhea and was about to give her a boost when Rhea shook her head.

“It is my duty to always bring up the rear,” the girl explained hastily, bending down and cupping her hands.

Peter sighed and allowed the girl to give him a boost. He was shocked at how strong she was for the boost she gave him was enough to get him all the way on the branch in one try. When Peter was up higher, Rhea grabbed the lower branch and swung herself up like a squirrel. She scurried higher till she was perched on the end of the branch next to Peter and Lucy. She held the branch above her to steady herself as she crouched on the branch.

When the wolves were finally gone, Rhea was the first to hop down. She held a hand up and clenched her fist to tell the others in the tree to wait. Cautiously she approached the fox who was laying on the snow limp. Crouching down, she touched his forehead and he whimpered.

“That was very noble of you,” she whispered. “You’ll be alright.” The fox smiled as he slowly lifted his head, “I learnt from the best.” Smiling, Rhea reached down and scooped the fox up into her arms gently like a kitten. Turning, she nodded to the ones in the tree and they began to descend. The beavers set about preparing a fire while Peter collected firewood and Susan and Lucy helped Mrs. Beaver organize some food.

When it was all done, Rhea laid the fox down and began to help Mrs. Beaver tend to his bites.

“Stop squirming!” Mrs. Beaver remarked, “You’re worse than beaver on bath day!” Rhea chuckled as she turned to Susan, “Pass the warm water please?” Susan took a stick and slowly removed the small kettle from the fire before holding it out to Rhea. Rhea however didn’t take the hot ketal with the stick but grabbed it with her hands. Susan and Lucy were about to warn her that the ketal was boiling hot, but Rhea didn’t seem to notice. Peter furrowed his brow when he noticed something on Rhea’s hands.

“What happened to your hands?” he asked.

Rhea looked down at her hands and everyone else realized that they were covered in scars and calluses. She turned her eyes away from them and pulled her fingerless gloves back on.

“Multiple things…”

Lucy bowed her head. She knew what had happened. Thousands of years of living on her own, protecting Narnia against evil. Anyone would have gained thousands of scars in a hundred years but with how long Rhea was alive, she was surprised she didn’t have that many.

The fox cleared his throat, trying to relieve the tension, “I best be going. Anything you wish me to tell Aslan Rhea?” Rhea smiled and nodded, “Tell him we’ll be with him shortly.” The fox nodded and bowed, “You are truly honorable lady Rhea. You do realize that Aslan is preparing to offer you an exemption from your oath.” The girl slowly shook her head, “No oath should be broken, even if it is completed. I will live my oath until I die.” “But what will happen when the kings and queens are safe, and the witch destroyed?” Beaver asked. “Your oath will be complete.” Rhea shook her head again before looking at the three Pevensies. She smiled, “I promised to protect Narnia and all human visitors with my life. Even if the witch is killed, there will still be threats. I will forever be Narnia’s protector.” The fox smiled in awe at the girl before bowing his head. Rhea rose to her knees and bowed to the fox before rubbing his ears fondly. With that, the fox was gone, and Rhea resumed her spot by the fire. She did not lift her face nor make eye contact with anyone. Little did they know what was going on inside Rhea’s mind. She was immortal…. So… that meant she would watch the Pevensies grow old and die… she would watch everyone present grow old and die. She would outlive everyone except Aslan. She must not make any attachments… it would be easier that way. She was just a servant. A servant and a soldier. It was her destiny.

********

Peter shifted. It was uncomfortable sleeping on the ground, the cold ground, nonetheless. They had scraped the snow away, so they didn’t have to sleep on the snow but even with his thick wool coat the ground was uncomfortable.

Slowly rolling over, Peter looked at the others. The fire was still going. It hadn’t died down even a little bit. He could faintly make out Mr. and Mrs. Beaver sleeping curled up together near the fire. Susan and Lucy were sleeping back to back, offering each other body heat.

Peter glanced around, searching for Rhea but didn’t see her. Sitting up, he looked around again and finally saw the girl, sitting on the highest branch of the tree right next to them. Shaking his head, the boy got up and began to climb the tree.

When he got to the branch right below Rhea, the girl spoke.

“You should be sleeping,” she said.

Peter paused, “When did you know I was awake?” The girl smiled, “You’ve been tossing and turning for the past thirty minutes,” the girl pointed out.

Sighing, Peter pulled himself up onto the branch next to Rhea and sat down, holding onto the branch above him, “Why aren’t you sleeping?” “I’ll have plenty of time to sleep when this place is no longer at war,” The girl replied simply, still keeping her eyes on the forest, “Besides, we don’t want anyone sneaking up on as while we sleep. It’s uncomfortable to be murdered in cold blood when one’s asleep. You don’t know it happened!” Peter stared at her, not sure what to make of that, “You know what it feels like to be murdered while asleep.” Rhea shook her head, “Not murdered…. But wounded. One time I was out on a trip with a few others…. I woke up one morning to realize that I had been asleep for a week because someone had come and shot me while I slept. It had thrown me into a coma… and I didn’t even know.” Peter cringed, “I’m sorry.” Silence enveloped the two. Rhea stopped swinging her axe back and forth and clipped it to her back, leaning against the tree.

“May I ask you something?” Peter asked, “Why did you never take a break?” Rhea cocked her head to the side, “What do you mean?” “I mean…. No human has come to Narnia for years, right?”

The girl nodded.

“Then… how come you didn’t settle down and relax for a few years waiting for us? Why spend your whole life fighting when we hadn’t even arrived?” Rhea smiled, “Because if I do not make a difference, then how can I know that one day I will be alive to see peace? It’s not that easy to live peacefully in the middle of a war Peter. My master once told me that you should not waste your life doing things that will make no difference or are selfish things but to rather spend your life doing something that will leave a mark on the world. Besides, I cannot very well leave a mark on the world if I’m dead and I would be dead if I didn’t fight. This war is on our doorsteps. I’m sure you know what that feels like.” Peter nodded, “Yeah…. I do.” Rhea sighed and leant back, “Our world is different from yours Peter. While in your world, you have to be a certain age to fight evil, in this world it doesn’t matter who, what or how old you are…. Just as long as you have loyalty, honor and a willing heart, (sorry for the Hobbit reference!) you can fight anything.” Peter sat forward and let go of the branch above him, “But what….” However, he didn’t finish for having let go of the branch and leaning forward had thrown the boy out of balance and he fell off the branch. He let out a strangled cry of fear, but his fall was stopped almost immediately.

Looking up, he saw that Rhea had grabbed his wrist with one hand and with the other, had grabbed the branch above her. Peter looked up into the girl’s shining green eyes and right then and there, the boy knew that he had fallen in love.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Rhea pulled Peter back onto the branch with so much ease that Peter found it hard to believe that the girl was lighter than him. Rhea didn’t seem to trust Peter to not fall again so she made sure he was seated balanced and manually placed his hand on the branch above him.

“Right…. now, where were we?” she asked, sitting back, “Oh right! You were just heading back down to bed!” Peter’s eyes widened, “No I wasn’t! I still want to talk!” Rhea chuckled, “There will be plenty of time for that Pevensie. Right now, you need to sleep if you want to last any of tomorrow. Besides, traveling on foot means there is plenty of time to chit chat. Now, off you go.” Peter groaned, and his voice spoke before he could stop himself, “Yes mother.” Before the boy could take it back, Rhea had let out a chuckle.

“Mother huh?” she asked, rather amused, “What does that make you? The naughty puppy?” Peter looked at her, his eyes showing signs of pure embarrassment and slight annoyance at himself. He had just ruined the mood! Rhea seemed to sense his discomfort and giving him a soft smile, she squeezed his hand, “I was joking. Goodnight Peter.” Peter felt his face heat up from the feeling of the girl’s hand on his and he quickly began to climb down to avoid letting the girl see him blush, “Goodnight Rhea.” When he reached the bottom, Peter walked back to his spot and curled up. He looked up into the tree to see that Rhea was watching him, a smile on her face. The girl gave him a salute before turning to look back at the forest. Peter sighed and buried his face in his hands.

“Oh I’m so stupid,” He muttered before falling asleep finally.

************

Peter looked behind him to see that Rhea was in the back, helping Lucy up to the steep rocky climb. Rhea then drove the handle of her axe into the ledge above her to give herself some leverage when a hand shot out to help her. Looking up, blue met green as Peter shyly held out his hand to her. Smiling, Rhea took his hand and the boy pulled her up the rest of the way. As Peter retracted his hand shyly, Rhea noticed that his hands were strong and masculine but still smooth and not calloused unlike Rhea’s hands which were rough and not exactly feminine with bruises, cuts and scars from her years of work.

“Thank you kid sir,” the girl chirped, putting her axe back on her back.

Peter smiled but kept his eyes averted. Why was he so shy around her? He always felt so weak…. Helpless around her. Maybe it was the way she always stood firm like a rock against waves. Perhaps it was her talent with that beast of an axe or her calm bravery…. Though, it was probably how her lime green eyes always looked him straight in the eyes and how he could see a lifetime of trial and pain. He felt small compared to her.

Rhea noticed his quiet reaction to her thanks but shrugged it off. She honestly didn’t know what to make of the boy either. He probably was the closest thing to handsome that Rhea had ever seen since most of the creatures in Narnia near to humans were centaurs, fawns and dryads. However, she felt that he would look much more mature and handsome if he was less timid around strangers and kinder around his family. Though, that was his business, so she made no comment.

When the two caught up with the beavers, they were looking over the vast land before them, covered in snow.

“Just beyond the frozen river lies Aslan’s camp,” Mr. Beaver said.

“River?” Susan asked, obviously finding it unnerving that they had to cross a river.

“Oh the river has been frozen for a hundred years.” Mrs. Beaver assured her.

There was silence as the three humans stared at the world before them.

“It’s so far,” Peter muttered.

“It’s the world dear,” Mrs. Beaver pointed out.

Rhea playfully nudged Peter’s arm with her elbow, smirking, “Did you expect it to be small?” “Smaller,” Susan answered in a sarcastic tone aimed at her brother.

As the eldest girl walked away, Lucy slipped her hand into Rhea’s earning a gentle squeeze from the elph.

“How can such a big world exist in a wardrobe?” the girl asked.

Rhea smiled, drawing the girl to the edge of the ridge to get a better look, “My master, Aslan, once told me that this world is just a mirror of your world. There are evil people here just like there are in your world. There are good people, trees, plants, animals, love and hate…. Just like your world.” Lucy looked up at the girl then back at the view, “But why must both worlds have war?” Rhea chuckled and hugged the girl to the side, “They’re large worlds. Evil people want to conquer large worlds and countries. That’s why they must be protected.” Rhea looked over her shoulder to see that Peter had been watching the conversation. He smiled gratefully at her before shyly looking away to follow the beavers down.

Rhea reached out her hand to Lucy who took it and she hauled the little girl onto her back.

“Come on!” Mr. Beaver called back. “Hurry up!” Peter groaned, “If he tells us to hurry up one more time…. I’m going to turn him into a big fluffy hat.” Rhea chuckled, shifting Lucy on her back so the girl wouldn’t be pressed against her axe.

“He is getting a little bossy,” Lucy whispered to Rhea when suddenly Mrs. Beaver screamed.

“No! IT’s her!” Rhea turned around, Lucy still on her back to see a cloud of snow in the distance, caused from something big trotting through the powder. She dropped Lucy to the ground, pushing the girl toward her brother.

“Follow the beavers,” she ordered in a firm, demanding tone. “They’ll get you out of here.” Peter and Susan’s eyes widened when they realized that the girl wasn’t going to follow them, “What are you going to do?” Rhea grinned, grabbing her axe from her back. She spun it in her hand as if it weighed nothing, “A sleigh can overtake humans and beavers in less than a minute. I’ll hold her off.”

Peter opened his mouth to object when Lucy grabbed his hand and began to drag him away, “Listen to Rhea! She knows what she’s doing!” Peter looked back at the girl to see her give him a comforting smile before wiping it from her face into a firm glare. Spinning around, she turned her back to him and stood straight and tall, waiting for the witch. Peter turned and began to run after his sisters and the beavers. When they reached the woods and the beavers dove into a little hole in the ground, Peter looked over his shoulder.

Rhea was still standing there but now in a crouching stance. He saw the cloud of powdery snow get closer to her before she was swallowed by it. Susan grabbed her brother’s arm and pulled him into the hole. There was the sound of the sleigh approaching above when it stopped and footsteps approached the hole.

“Maybe….. she’s gone….” Lucy whispered.

“I’ll go and see,” Peter said, hoping to see if Rhea was alright but Beaver stopped him.

“You’re no use to Narnia dead.” He said, climbing out of the hole.

A few seconds passed before his head appeared, grinning, “Come on out! I hope you’ve been good cuz there’s someone here to see you!” With that, the three kids and Mrs. Beaver climbed out, only to see a lovely sleigh parked outside the hole, pulled by reindeer. A tall slightly fat man dressed in red stood before them, a grin on his face and perched on the back of the sleigh, a smile on her face was Rhea.

Peter let out a sigh when he saw her but then he suddenly got a faint glint of anger in his heart. She had placed her life in danger just to get them to safety….. why was he suddenly so angry? Before he could say anything, Father Christmas had called him over and handed him a sword and a shield. As he took it into his hands, he felt a weight lifted off his shoulders and he almost felt like he had grown taller.

“Well, I must be off,” Father Christmas announced. “Things do pile up when you’ve been gone a hundred years.” With that he threw his things back into the sleigh and Rhea hopped off lightly like a deer, giving the old man a farewell.

“Long live Aslan and Merry Christmas!” The man hooted before driving off.

As he did, the kids and Beavers cheered farewells. When he was gone, Lucy rushed over to Rhea and drew her in for a bone breaking hug.

“You scared me back there!” she chirped.

Rhea chuckled, patting the girl’s head, “It’s my job to keep you safe.” Peter wanted to suddenly vent his anger when a thought came to him, “He said winter is almost over. You know what that means! No more ice.”

[juniperallura]

what about uhhhhhhhh hunk and lance as little friends in like kindergarten who realize they have feelings as teenagers and there's some pining drama but ultimately everything turns out hunky dory and maybe pidge and keith are there

“Here we go-”

Lance’s hand, fumbling blindly around the long-neglected top shelf of his closet, finally landed on what he thought were his rain boots. He frowned as he pulled it out; the box was too light, too small, its edges well worn. A thick coat of dust was chalky beneath his fingers- a quick puff sent motes flying into the air, and he could make out the childish scrawl on the lid: Lance & Hunk’s Leaf Collection- Don’t Touch!!

“-Lance! Look at this one!”

A huge leaf, yellow with veins of brilliant red, was thrust into his face. Then his friend’s grin peeked out from behind it. “Can we keep it?” Hunk asked.

Lance nodded and held out their box, already half full. He scanned the ground, careful only to crunch the pine cones underfoot and not ruin any potential botanical finds. One caught his eye- a faded green with some rounded edges and brown spots. “This one looks like my abuelo,” he said, showing Hunk the bulbous-nosed profile in the leaf.

Hunk squinted, leaning in toward Lance’s hand. “Where?”

“Right there!” Lance waved it in Hunk’s face. Hunk frowned. “You’re looking at it wrong, see?” He pivoted to bump Hunk’s shoulder, their heads leaning into one another as they surveyed the leaf from Lance’s point of view.

“O-oh, now I see it,” Hunk laughed, “Your grandpa is ugly!”

Lance scoffed, putting the leaf gently into the box. He tried to push his friend over, but as always Hunk was steady as rock. “That’s mean! My mom says you can’t be mean about dead people!” Hunk still wouldn’t budge, so Lance settled for pulling his hood over his eyes and blowing a raspberry.

“I’m sorry.” Hunk pushed the fabric off his forehead with a smile. “You can be mean about my grandpa if you want- he’s still alive, though.”

“No, it’s okay,” Lance turned away, hiding a mischievous smile over his shoulder, “I’ll just do…this!” He reached down, grabbing a fistful of leaves and tossing them into Hunk’s face.

“Hey,” Hunk cried as Lance jogged away with a gleeful cackle, “No fair!” With a grin he scooped up as much colorful foliage as he could and ran after his friend, launching it at Lance’s back.

A few minutes later found the two boys laying shoulder to shoulder on the ground, gasping for breath between giggles. Leaves poked out from the hoods and sleeves of their jackets, evidence of their little war. Lance gazed up at the trees. “I can’t wait to show Miss Penny our collection.” 

“Me too. We’re gonna have the best show and tell in the class.” Hunk and Lance looked at each other with mirrored grins. 

A voice echoed from behind them, “Tsuyoshi! Time to go!”

Hunk clamored up from the leaf pile. “My mom’s calling. Can you keep it ‘til show and tell?”

Lance stuck out his lip and knit his brows, throwing a stiff salute against his forehead. “I’ll guard it with my life!”

Hunk nodded, “Good.” He clasped Lance’s hand, helping him up, and then mimicked his salute. “See you tomorrow!” 

Lance blinked. He glanced out his bedroom window, where branches of deep orange reached toward a gray sky. The memory was an old one, back maybe more than a decade ago, but it was warm like it had only happened yesterday. Lance felt a twinge, deep in his chest. He and Hunk had always been like that- comfortable and warm and honest. They told each other everything, they put each other at ease. It had always been that way, from kindergarten to their junior year.

At least, until a couple weeks ago. Lance’s stomach did a flip just at the thought. 

“Augh,” he groaned, putting aside the box to flop back onto his bed. “Why do I have to ruin everything?”

It was all because of that stupid hayride. Pidge was the only smart one, protesting that she hated farms and that the outdoors were stupid and couldn’t they just stay home and watch Halloweentown? But of course the day fell during one of Keith’s random festive streaks, and Lance sure wasn’t going to stand in the way of a Hunk determined to get fresh apples for his apple upside-down cake (a seasonal tradition.)

So there Lance was, breaking out his freshly obtained driver’s license to putter out to Monte’s Farms in his mom’s old Saturn. It was a gorgeous day; the sky was bright, the changing leaves were out in full force, and the air had a crispness to it that only October could bring on its winds. 

Everyone was in high spirits as they climbed into the wooden wagon, Pidge and Keith taking the bale across from Hunk and Lance. It had the makings of a great adventure for the ol’ gang- until a breeze stirred up the hay and dust from the floor. Immediately, Pidge began to sneeze. One, then another. Then she coughed. Then three sneezes in a row. Then her eyes starting getting red. Another double sneeze-

“Pidge, maybe you shouldn’t be on this thing,” Lance raised a brow, fishing into his parka pocket for a tissue, “You’ve got mad allergies.”

“I’m- achoo! Fine,” she insisted, while gratefully accepting the tissue. “It’s just a little- sniff- dust. The ride’s only, what, five minutes? I’ll be fine.”

Hunk bit his lip. “Well, actually- it’s twenty.”

“Holy shit, I’m gonna die-” Pidge sneeze again. 

The other three exchanged glances. “Yeah, this might not have been the best idea for you,” Keith said, patting her on the shoulder, “Why don’t the two of us go check out the bakery instead? Maybe get some apple cider or something. They probably also have, I don’t know, chickens we can pet or whatever. And we’ll meet you two when you’re done getting apples.” He nodded at Hunk and Lance.

Everyone agreed and Pidge shuffled off with Keith, Hunk calling apologies between her sneezes. 

Hunk sighed, giving Lance a smile. “Well, I guess it’s just you and me.”

Lance smiled back, shoving his hands into his pockets. He knew it was probably better that Pidge got off the wagon, but for some reason he started feeling nervous the second she and Keith left. “Yeah, they’re missing out, this is gonna be the apple picking adventure of a lifetime.”

Hunk laughed, a clear, warm sound. “Maybe we’ll get pulled into an X-Files episode and get abducted by aliens from an orchard circle or something. They’ll be so pissed that they missed it, and we’ll be living it up in space!” He looked at Lance, topaz eyes crinkling with his smile. Then he frowned, thick brows knitting as he pulled a thoughtful expression. “But then I guess we’d all miss my upside-down cake, so maybe never mind.”

Lance nodded, but an actual answer didn’t make it to his mouth. He didn’t even notice Hunk’s words trailing off. Suddenly, all he could focus on was the lock of dark hair that had fallen over Hunk’s forehead, tickled by the breeze. And how Hunk’s lashes, short and thick, framed the gentle slope of his eyes. And had he been taking Lance’s fashion advice? Lance had always told him that that eggplant sweater picked up nice undertones in his skin, which even in the cool weather looked warmed by the sunshine. And he was wearing that scarf, the big plaid one that made Lance want to curl up next to him and lay his head on Hunk’s chest-

A cold gust jolted Lance back into himself. He had started drifting off like that recently— but somehow it only happened with Hunk. Lance blinked, a sudden consciousness of the warmth of Hunk’s knee against his making him shiver.

Hunk was looking at him, something soft, maybe, in his eyes. “Are you cold? I told you to wear an actual coat.” Before Lance could answer Hunk unwrapped his scarf and reached to drape it over the back of Lance’s neck.

“I know, I know, you’re always right,” Lance mumbled with a grateful smile. He arranged the fabric in loose loops around his neck, a strange quickness coming into his pulse as the scent of Hunk’s cologne wafted from so close around him. He forced himself not to think about it. “I should’ve brought gloves, too.” 

“Here-” Hunk laid his hand over Lance’s, which rested between them on the wooden bench. Not quite holding it, but Lance felt enveloped by the warmth of his touch. 

Lance looked away, letting his gaze fixate on the fields that rolled past them. He sat still, as still as he could on the rumbling wagon, as if the moment would shatter if he moved his hand. After a moment he glanced at Hunk- he was looking away, too. Lance swore his cheeks were flushed a deeper brown. Was he—?  Lance stopped himself, not daring to think any further, and tried not to smile as he buried his chin in Hunk’s scarf.

They sat in silence for awhile. Hunk’s hand still rested over Lance’s. Somehow they had gotten closer, their shoulders brushing whenever the wagon hit a bump. Lance let out a contented sigh. 

Hunk looked at him. “Hm?” he hummed.

“Just excited for apples. And aliens.”

“I know you’re more of a summer guy,” Hunk tilted his head, “But thanks for coming along. Fall’s my favorite season, I like to make it special, y’know?”

Lance flashed a smile, “Of course, man. You know that apple upside-down cake is the only thing that keeps me going, wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Hunk didn’t answer, only gave him a searching kind of look as the corner of his mouth pulled upward. Lance found himself staring at Hunk’s lips, not quite able to hold his gaze. He bit the inside of his cheek. He could still feel the warmth radiating from Hunk, and it set his heart pounding. Something possessed him to lean a little closer, pressing into Hunk’s sturdy arm. He tilted his head, his own lips parting, just slightly.

“Oh, ah-” Hunk cleared his throat, his head whipping to look over his other shoulder, “Looks like we’re here.”

Lance felt like he’d been doused with cold water. Hunk snatched his hand away as the wagon jolted to a stop. Lance sat frozen for a second while everyone else shuffled off the hayride.

Did he just try and kiss…Hunk?

It wasn’t until late that night, when Lance was staring wide-eyed into the darkness of his ceiling, that he could admit that yes, yes he had. 

Since then, things hadn’t been the same. Neither of them acknowledged it to the other, and Lance almost wondered if Hunk had even noticed; but it was clear that something had changed. All the normal stuff- talking in the hall, eating lunch, walking home from school- suddenly felt stiff, reserved. Pidge and Keith didn’t seem to notice anything, and Lance decided not to bring it up. How could he even explain what happened? It was like Lance had been hit by a lightning bolt months ago, maybe even years ago, and was only realizing it now.

Lance’s gaze flickered to the old box at the corner of his bed. Why did he have to complicate things? With Hunk, of all people. He heaved another sigh.

“Hey-” 

Lance nearly jumped out of his skin when a rasping knock and a familiar voice came from across the room. Hunk was standing in the doorway, pushing back wet hair from his forehead and unzipping a bright yellow rain jacket. “Your mom said you were up here-”

Hunk never knocked. They hadn’t even rang each other’s doorbells since second grade. Usually he’d be flopped on Lance’s bed by now, drumming on his stomach and chattering about some machine he was tinkering with. Lance swallowed. “Hey, yeah, come in.” He gestured to the shoe box, “I was just looking at this, found it in my closet earlier.”

Hunk sat on the edge of the mattress, a foot of space between his thigh and Lance’s. When he saw the box his face lit up and he grabbed it eagerly. “Our leaf collection! Oh man, I remember this— here’s the one that looked like your grandpa!” He picked up the leaf, now faded and brittle, and spun it gently by the stem.

Lance snorted. “My mom must’ve been telling me too many stories about people seeing Jesus in their toast, cause that does not look like Abuelo.”

“I think we were just desperate for a good show and tell. Remember when Kelsey Caldwell brought in her dad’s Oscar? What a show off.”

“Oh yeah, she still won’t shut up about it,” Lance rolled his eyes, “It was for best dance direction, who cares? My homecoming Snapchat story could’ve won that Oscar.” Hunk caught his eye and they burst into laughter- easily, like before.

But then they fell into silence. The nervous feeling began to churn in Lance’s stomach again as he searched for something to say. He was about to make some lame comment about the rain, but Hunk suddenly sucked in a breath and said, “Lance, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Lance blinked. A shiver ran down his spine but a wave of heat flooded his face. The churning in his gut turned to cold dread. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, Hunk, me too.” 

Hunk had pulled another leaf out of the box, turning it over in his hand and not meeting Lance’s eyes. “About the other day, at the farm, well, I wanted to apologize-”

“Hey, you don’t need to apologize-” Lance cut in, his cheeks burning, “I’m sorry. I don’t really know what happened, lately I’ve just been…confused, I dunno.”

Hunk frowned, almost crushing the leaf in his palm. “I- I know it was weird, so weird, and I get if I kinda ruined things, but- I just really don’t want to lose our friendship, y’know.” He smiled dryly at the shoe box. Lance & Hunk’s Leaf Collection. “So, if there’s any way I can make things normal again, or if you just need space, or if you just don’t want to hang out anymore-”

“Wait, Hunk-” Lance shook his head, his hand reaching to rest in the space between them, “What happened, it’s not on you. I made things weird, but I don’t wanna lose our friendship, either. You- you mean the world to me.” He looked down at his lap, then forced himself to look over at Hunk. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you.”

An expression came into Hunk’s face like he’d been struck by lightning. He was silent for a long beat, but when he spoke his words came tumbling out, “Wait, wait, wait. I-I don’t understand. You tried to kiss me? But that doesn’t make any sense because-” He bit his lip, slowing down and wringing his hands over his stomach. “’Cause, uh, I thought I was trying to kiss you…”

The world seemed to pull very, very far away and then come rushing back all at once. Lance’s thoughts were just radio static. All he managed was a dumb, “Oh.”

“I just, I dunno, realized that I kind of- like you. In, like, a kissing you way.” Hunk’s face was getting redder by the second. “But, I guess, if you were trying to kiss me too, then maybe I didn’t ruin everything, hopefully? And maybe this makes it less confusing, instead of more? And Lance please stop staring at me and say something-”

A smile spread over Lance’s face as something warm bloomed in his chest. He leaned forward, closing the space that sat empty between them, and pressed his lips gently against Hunk’s. He heard a little hum of surprise from Hunk’s chest, but then a warm hand reached out to cup the side of his face and Hunk kissed him properly. It was warm, honest, comfortable. As if a piece of the puzzle they hadn’t even known was missing had finally fallen into place.

Lance pulled away, just barely. Hunk smelled like the rain and the spice of cologne. “I like you too,” he whispered. It felt good to say. 

Hunk laid his hand over Lance’s, and this time they entwined their fingers, squeezing tightly as their lips met again.

[rncloughlin]

yellow acacias

title: yellow acacias

warnings: none

word count: 2.5k

summary: The five times Dan gave Phil acacias, and the one time he didn’t have to.

read it on ao3 or

a/n: this fic trend is probably extremely dead, but i lived for it so i'm going to write it anyway. trying to find a flower with a consistent meaning on different sites was honestly a little harder than needed.

also, i have no idea if they visited phil's parents a little into 2016 i'm so bad at dates but i looked up the calendar for the rest of it and it should be in chronological order of 2016 !

-

Acacia (flower): Secret love, concealed love

-

The first time was quick and surprising. It happened while walking around town, which was a rarity for the two boys. They were shopping for Christmas gifts for their families (they both knew they'd most likely end up ordering something offline), and it was absolutely freezing out. Phil was sure he reached around his shoulders to tighten his jacket at least a hundred times, and his legs were definitely frozen from him being an idiot and wearing the thinnest jeans he owned.

Dan had escaped to grab a present for Phil's brother, Martyn, and had promised to return in a jiffy. (Note that he didn't actually say that, but Phil would find it hilarious if he did.) However, it had been twenty minutes, and Phil was slightly worried and began subconsciously looking in all the shops around him's windows for his best friend.

At last, when Phil was about to text Dan that if he didn't hurry up they would both be suffering with pneumonia for the next week, Dan appeared from behind him, bags in his hand and a bouquet in the other. Phil figured they were for his mother, or maybe even Phil's mother, and didn't even question it until Dan held the flowers out to him.

"I saw these in the window to the flower shop and thought they were pretty. Kind of an accidental buy, if you can call being fully aware of it when you're buying it that."

Phil smiled at him, gently grabbing the flowers. "You bought them because they were pretty?" Phil thought he saw him blush a bit, but he could've been mistaken due to the cold already turning Dan's cheeks pink. He found it pretty adorable either way.

"Yeah, kind of. They're acacias, and the shop owner said they had a cool meaning." Dan started walking, waving Phil along a bit. "But I forgot what it was." They both started walking in the direction of home, deciding that having the flowers freeze would suck, and having them freeze would be even worse.

Phil made a mental note to look up the meaning behind acacias, but the thought was left out in the cold winter air when he felt the warmth of his home.

-

The second time was about a month after the original flowers died, when the first time had completely left Phil's mind.

They both came home from a quick trip to see Phil's parents absolutely exhausted, and Phil immediately passed out in his bed after taking out his contacts. He slept for so long that when he woke up again, the sun had completely left the sky, when he was sure it was only nine in the morning when he had laid down.

Groggily, Phil crawled out of bed, grabbed his glasses, and padded down the hall. His mismatched socks were scrunched up at the heel and his hair was a mess, making it obvious he had just gotten up. Upon seeing the empty lounge, he suddenly felt startled awake.

"Dan?" He called out, a yawn almost stopping him midway through the name. When he got no reply, Phil ventured out into the kitchen, which was oddly empty as well. 

Phil almost left when a flash of yellow caught his eyes, and suddenly he was turning to see the exact same type of flowers already in a vase with a notecard laying next to them.

"You fell asleep earlier than me and I couldn't get to sleep quite yet," the note read, "so I went out for a walk. I saw these in a shop window again and thought of the first time. Heading off to bed now. -Dan". The messy handwriting was smudged a bit from Dan having put a corner of the note under the vase, which was leaving a small water stain around the bottom of it.

Phil didn't really think about Dan getting flowers for him, because it wasn't even confirmed that Dan didn't get them for himself. To Dan, Phil knew they were just best friends. And who's to say you don't buy your best bud a bouquet of beautiful flowers? He honestly didn't even question it.

Instead, Phil grabbed the vase and set it on the middle of their table, wiping up the spilled water from before, and trying really hard not to accidentally break something in his sleepy state.

Almost throwing the note away before deciding to keep it, he walked back to his room once he was satisfied with the placement of the flowers and crawled back into his still-warm bed, the note discarded next to his glasses on the nightstand.

-

It's the end of April the third time Dan gets the acacias, and their flight to Playlist Live was only a day away. Phil was in his room packing (more like sitting on the floor and staring at the messy clothes all over the place) when Dan called him out.

"Phil? Could you come here?" He called, his voice echoing through their hall. Phil stood up and made his way over to the kitchen where Dan was standing and almost wasn't surprised to see the same flowers in the same vase as always.

"What are these for?" He asked, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "I got these as a gift, almost. Like, I just figured, we deserve something. A little reward for writing the book and stuff," Dan said, the smallest of smiles on his face.

Phil laughed. "These are just going to wilt when we're away! I appreciate the thought."

"Yeah, well, your weird houseplants can die with them. They'll watch over the place while we're gone, or something like that," Dan replied, rolling his eyes and immediately turning around to continue "packing" (read: browsing Tumblr on his laptop and waiting until the last possible minute to even start to pack).

Although Phil was frankly the most oblivious person to ever live, he did grow a bit suspicious by the sudden need for Dan to give him the same flowers. It was far enough apart and discreet enough for Phil to just straight up brush off the suspicion of something actually going on, but the confusion was still at the front of his mind for a minute. He remembered Dan telling him that they "had a cool meaning" and told himself to look it up after he finished packing.

He didn't, of course. Instead, he fell asleep on his bedroom floor in the comfortable pile of clothes laying there and woke up late the next day, rushing so much that he almost forgot his laptop charger and completely forgot about his earlier plan.

-

The fourth time wasn't until six months later. It was the day they released their second book, and they were both so tired from the tour that they decided that day was just going to be a resting day instead of partying (or basically just sitting at home with old Panic! at the Disco music playing in the background). Dan, however, decided to go out "for a second", which was odd, because they never really went out without the other. Phil just decided he needed a break for a bit and continued to scroll through his Tumblr tag until Dan returned.

Even though they spent a long time on a tour bus together and saw each other non-stop, the silence was almost deafening without Dan, and Phil actually started to miss him. He was honestly gone for only about twenty minutes, but Phil wasn't used to being without him for over five. (Of course, Phil felt he was probably being clingy, and he would never voice these thoughts out loud.)

When Dan finally did come home, he brought a bunch of loud noises with him, including the slamming of the door and the sound of the keys hitting the floor, along with a loud sigh. It was nearly impossible for Phil not to notice that Dan was definitely home (or a robber who was really bad at being quiet just entered their house, but Phil figured it was the former).

Laughing, Phil started to make his way to the door landing. "Are you alright out there?"

"One second!" Dan called back, shuffling around before walking around the corner, quickly stopping in his tracks when he saw Phil. "Oh! Okay, I wasn't expecting you to be right here," He said, his eyes widening for a second out of surprise. He handed Phil flowers that Phil didn't even notice he was holding. "I got these for you."

Of course, they were the acacias. That didn't surprise Phil at all. The only time Dan ever got flowers were the past three times and this one, and they were all the same kind. What did surprise him, however, was that Dan wasn't discreet this time about making it known they were for him.

All the other times, Dan made it out to be for the both of them, so what was different about this time?

Phil smiled, but on the inside he felt slightly confused. "Thank you! But why did you get them for me?"

Dan pursed his lips and paused for a moment before smiling back. His fingers twitched like he was nervous. "Well, they're kind of like thank yous. For... Helping and putting up with me and stuff these past few months. Being stuck on a small tour bus with me has to suck."

"We live together, Dan. I'm stuck with you every day," Phil laughed, giving a real smile this time that made his eyes scrunch up slightly. He grabbed the flowers gently from Dan's hands and walked to the kitchen, Dan falling into step behind. He searches the cupboard for the vase they haven't used in half a year and makes a happy noise when he finds it.

When he's done setting up the acacias on the table, Phil steps back and admires them. "I'd say they look quite nice there!"

Dan smiles at Phil, not even glancing at the flowers. "I'd reckon so."

- 

Dan knew Phil was a bit of an oblivious idiot, especially after so many years of Dan's pining and obvious heart eyes gone unnoticed or not thought about by him. He's running out of excuses for buying those flowers by the final times it happens, so Dan only hopes that Phil finally takes the hint and looks up the meaning before Dan has to spell it out for him.

The fifth and final time it happens, Phil doesn't even notice that Dan is gone. The final day of their tour was the day before, and they finally had time to relax. They were sat on their normal spots on their couch, just close enough for their feet to touch, and Phil had just fell asleep out of tiredness, his laptop still pulled up on a Wikipedia list of different types of pancakes. He seemed so tired those last few days of tour that Dan just let him rest, trying not to make a sound so he could. 

When Phil woke up it was around a few hours later and his laptop sat on the coffee table in front of him. There was a pillow under his head and a blanket under him, probably both given to him by Dan to make him feel more comfortable. However, he felt absolutely terrible sleeping on the couch, a dull pain in his neck from having done so.

The flowers were obvious this time. Instead of them being in the kitchen already, or on the dining table, or some other place where they wouldn't be found for a couple of minutes, they were right in front of Phil on the table. Dan hadn't even hidden the fact that they were obviously for Phil. How much more bland could you be? He set them so they would be positioned to be the first thing Phil saw when he finally woke up.

Phil blinked sleepily for a few moments as he started to realize this fact then sat up with a sudden determination and started groping around for his phone. He remembered that day in the cold a while back, with Dan's pink cheeks and the way he turned around so suddenly, and Phil hears his voice echoing "they have a cool meaning" in his head.

He spends the rest of the night researching the meanings of flowers.

-

Phil discovers the next day that ambrosia flowers are harder to find than he expected. He ends up having to go to a shop a bit out of London to get them, and thoroughly decides that that's almost enough "getting out of the house" for the whole week for him. It takes a thirty minute train ride and him getting lost in the shoppes trying to find it, and Phil doesn't make it back home for running on an hour and a half.

Thanks to Phil's horrible luck, Dan was awake by the time he got home and was fully worried about him.

"Where were you?" Dan called from the lounge the minute he heard the door close. "You didn't leave a note or answer any of my texts!" His voice was getting closer. 

At that exact moment, Phil realized he left his phone home on accident.

"You never leave the house! Especially without telling me," Dan exclaimed, rounding the corner before stopping directly in front of Phil. "You could've been dead, or kidnapped, or- What are those?" He stopped, noticing the flowers in Phil's hands.

Phil jumps right in. "They're ambrosias!" He exclaimed, almost too quickly and giving away the fact that he's a little nervous. He shuffled his feet, taking a breath before saying the next line. "They mean returned love."

"They mean returned love?" Dan repeated slowly, as if trying to confirm he heard that right.

"I know you just got flowers yesterday and everything, but I thought it was time I returned the favor. You know, like, give back. I'm sorry if you don't like them, but I was trying to find one that had the perfect meaning, and that was nearly impossible-"

"Phil," Dan said, interrupting his rant. "Did you look up the meaning of the flowers I got you?"

"Did you mean them?" He sounded a bit breathless. When Dan nodded, Phil said, "I got those because of the meaning," He gestured to the ambrosias. "I thought it worked well, but if you don't like them-"

"I love them," Dan interrupted again, and he, too, sounded a bit breathless. 

And even after they kiss, even after they move a bit later, even after they're together for five years and finally own a dog and are engaged, Dan still buys Phil yellow acacias every few months.

"Just for the memories," He'll say, setting them on the dining table, or the coffee table, or the counter in the kitchen. They're almost there to mock Phil for procrastinating on looking up the definition for nearly a year, but he's hopeful Dan doesn't actually buy them for that reason.

Dan actually suggests to Phil that they could have acacias as the flowers at their wedding, but Phil laughs it off. The "secret love" wasn't so secret anymore, so it didn't make much sense.

(They end up using acacias anyway. Just for the memories.)