#who else would enter mr universe with no training

[the-purple-possum]

At this point in my life, I'm convinced that Max Fosh is a James Potter variant.

[bradshawsbaby]

The Better Man

Pairing: Rooster x Wife!Reader

Author’s Note: I’ve honestly been struggling a little bit with my writing as of late. I want to write, but I’ve been so low on energy these past few weeks. And then when I do write, I feel like I’m unhappy with the end result. But the idea for this one came to me while I was taking a walk today, and I wanted to get it down. I write so often about Bradley defending Mrs. Bradshaw, but I wanted to showcase a time when she stood up for him as well. Hope you like it!

Warnings: Brief language, alcohol consumption, a really dickish former classmate.

“Oh, God,” Phoenix groaned, her voice cutting through the din of the Friday night crowd at The Hard Deck. From her position at your group’s table, she had a perfect view of the main entrance to the bar. “Not that guy.”

At her pronouncement, everyone else turned and craned their necks to see who she was referring to.

Hangman, Payback, and Fanboy seemed to know who Phoenix was talking about, as they immediately frowned and began muttering a few choice words under their breath, shaking their heads and averting their gazes.

Your husband seemed to recognize him as well, and from his reaction, you could tell he wasn’t an old friend. Bradley’s arm, which had been draped casually over your shoulders, tightened noticeably and his face darkened slightly, his eyes narrowing for a moment before he, too, turned away.

“Who is that?” you asked, keeping your voice down despite the fact that you knew no one outside your group would be able to hear you over the music and loud conversations permeating the bar.

Coyote and Bob turned curious gazes towards their fellow Dagger Squad members, clearly having no idea who this guy was either.

“Luke Robbins,” Phoenix told you, pursing her lips as if the name tasted sour on her tongue and taking a sip of her beer. “Call sign, Crunch. He went to flight school with me, Rooster, and Hangman. Payback and Fanboy know him, too, from the incredibly brief time he was stationed on our carrier.”

“Not brief enough,” Payback muttered, to which Fanboy nodded in vehement agreement.

“That popular of a guy, huh?” you replied, raising an eyebrow. Your friends and your husband seemed to have nothing but universal disdain for this Luke Robbins.

“He’s an asshole,” Bradley chimed in, lightly stroking your arm with his fingertips as he reached out for his beer with his other hand. “Always thought he was the best of the best and didn’t need help from anyone. Not to mention how quickly he’d throw everyone around him under the bus so that he could climb another rung on the ladder.”

“Never got him anywhere though, did it?” Hangman smirked, sipping his beer and leaning back in his chair. “Last I heard, good ol’ Cap’n Crunch has never been invited to TOPGUN.”

“So what’s he suddenly doing here?” Fanboy frowned, glancing across the room, where Robbins and the group he’d come in with were now stationed at the bar.

The rest of the guys shrugged indifferently, but Phoenix let out another groan. “Didn’t Cyclone say something about a training detachment visiting North Island for a couple weeks? Don’t tell me Crunch is part of that squadron,” she rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. Hopefully it won’t have anything to do with us and we can just ignore him,” Bradley said, glancing down at you and shooting you a smile that held no trace of the annoyance he’d felt when Crunch and company had first entered The Hard Deck.

You and your friends returned to your earlier conversation, laughing and just enjoying each other’s company. You and Bradley had returned from your honeymoon a week earlier, and it was good getting to catch up with everyone.

The evening was going quite nicely until a voice sounded behind you that had your husband stiffening beside you, and the rest of your friends glaring in irritation.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?”

You turned in your seat slightly to see the fighter pilot known as Crunch standing behind you, a pint of beer in hand. He was smiling one of those smug “I know no one here likes me, but I’m going to come over and be annoying anyway” smiles. You disliked him instantly.

When no one responded, he went on. “Funny how things don’t change. The gang’s all here. Rooster. Phoenix. Payback. Fanboy. Oh, and Hangman. That’s new, I guess,” he smirked. “Plus a couple spares,” he added, glancing over at Coyote and Bob.

Phoenix’s eyes narrowed. “Coyote Machado and Bob Floyd. Fellow TOPGUN graduates. That’s probably why you don’t know them,” she shot back with a cool smirk.

Crunch’s lip curled momentarily, but he didn’t strike back. “And who’s this?” he asked a second later, his eyes suddenly landing on you. “I know a girl with hands as soft as those is no fighter pilot,” he laughed obnoxiously.

Bradley glared, instinctively pulling you closer to his side. “This is my wife,” he told Crunch, an edge of warning in his voice as he grudgingly told him your name.

As much as you couldn’t ignore the tension hanging thickly in the air, you also couldn’t deny the little thrill that went through you when Bradley introduced you as his wife. You didn’t think you’d ever get over it.

“Wife, huh?” Crunch grinned, smacking Bradley on the shoulder in a gesture that could have been friendly, but clearly wasn’t. “Good for you, man.” Turning to look at you, he winked and leaned in closer, as if he was about to share a secret. “Back in the day, Bradshaw here had no game with the ladies. Hardly ever left with one at the end of the night.”

You blinked and maintained a straight face, despite your aggravation at this jerk clearly trying to belittle and embarrass your husband. “I guess Bradley just wasn’t trying to sleep with any woman who breathed in his vicinity,” you replied, gazing back at him with a serene expression.

Fanboy snorted at that, sputtering slightly on his beer.

A look of annoyance flashed through Crunch’s eyes as he looked back at you. He seemed unhappy that he hadn’t been able to ruffle any feathers at your table.

“Surprised they asked you back to TOPGUN, Bradshaw,” he suddenly said, loudly enough that a few people at the tables around you glanced over. “Surprised they invited you to begin with, in fact.” He seemed satisfied by the tightened jaws and clenched fists that he was now seeing from the Dagger Squad.

Grinning meanly, he glanced at you once more. “Not sure if you’re aware, sweetheart, but your husband here was always the slowest in our flight class. The slowest. The most hesitant. Never good for making a snap decision. Kind of makes you think that Chicken would have been a more fitting call sign, no?”

You could feel the tension pouring off your husband in waves, your own pulse racing in your veins as you felt the heat of anger rushing to your cheeks. Behind you, you could feel rather than see the glares of your friends. Sliding a hand underneath the table, you rested it on Bradley’s thigh, offering him your support and comfort.

Crunch truly was the worst kind of person, determined to ruin everyone’s night for no other reason than for his apparent twisted pleasure. Why he couldn’t just walk away and leave you all in peace was beyond your understanding.

“But I understand, Bradshaw. I do,” he went on, feigning sympathy. “You didn’t want to make a mistake up there. Fuck something up and end up six feet under. You know, kind of like your old man.”

That was the final straw. Fury burning in his dark eyes, Bradley slammed his fist on the table and rose immediately, knocking his chair back in his haste. The rest of the Dagger Squad followed suit, not going to stand for such an insult being thrown your husband’s way.

None of them, however, moved as quickly as you.

You’d risen from your seat, too, as soon as your husband had stood up, rage firing through your veins as you stared at Crunch’s smugly satisfied face. And before anyone else could so much as blink or move a muscle, your fist was colliding with his nose, harder than you ever would have believed yourself capable of. So hard, in fact, that you felt the force of it vibrating up your arm and all the way into your shoulder.

Crunch staggered back in response, immediately clutching at his nose, from which a thin stream of blood was already starting to trickle.

“That’s for my husband and my father-in-law!” you exclaimed, pointing an angry finger at him. You didn’t even realize you’d taken a step closer to him until you felt Bradley wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you back. “Both of whom are better men and better fighter pilots than you could ever hope to be!”

Your ears still ringing from both anger and the shock of what you’d just done, it took a second to register the sound of raucous cheers and laughter echoing around you. Not only were your friends applauding, but so were many of the bar patrons around you.

Eyes narrowed in humiliation and still clutching his bleeding nose, Crunch turned and hurried off, muttering something under his breath about “Bradshaw’s wife” being a “psycho bitch.”

You waited until his back was turned and he had moved off before shaking out your hand, which you were confident would be black and blue tomorrow. How did people go around getting into fist fights on a regular basis?

“That was amazing!”

“Most badass thing I’ve ever seen!”

“Wish one of us had had the balls to do that during flight school!”

Your friends were all congratulating you and telling you how incredible that had been, but the only person you had eyes for at that moment was your husband.

Bradley gazed down at you, his eyes still dark, but no longer with anger. Now they were sparking with something much deeper, something much more instinctual and hungry.

His eyes never leaving your face, Bradley lifted your hand to his lips and pressed soft kisses to your throbbing fingers, which sent a shiver shooting down your spine and straight to your toes.

“Baby,” he whispered, holding your battered hand close to his chest and massaging your swollen knuckles with gentle fingers. “That was hands down the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he told you, his voice hoarse as he continued to gaze down at you in amazement. “And also—thank you.”

You could tell from the thickness in his voice that it wasn’t just what you had done that had moved him—it was why you had done it. Not only would you never allow anyone to disparage your husband like that, but you would also never stand for anyone trying to mar the memory of his parents.

“Get a room, you two,” Coyote called out suddenly, teasingly chucking a napkin at the both of you.

You and Bradley were brought back to the present moment, glancing over at the knowing grins being aimed at you from the rest of the Dagger Squad.

“What do you say, Mrs. Bradshaw? Should we do just that?” Bradley grinned, taking your hand in both of his.

“I think we should, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” you nodded, laughing as Bradley suddenly lifted you over his shoulder to the sound of the hooting and hollering of your friends.

Once you got home, Bradley spent the rest of the night taking very good care of you and showing you just how much your defense of the Bradshaw name meant to him.

[hibatasblog]

Here’s a sneak peek at Entanglement chapter 15. 🚀 🦝

When Rocket and Lethys entered the lecture hall, a hiss and rumble of voices erupted around them. Lethys walked as if he were a king, proud and tall, but his ears swiveled catching the odd whispered word or snide remark. His upper lip lifted towards one particular humie who quailed at the sight of three-inch long canines.

Tail bristling, and chest so tight even the metal there ached, poor Rocket heard more clearly than his father: “Look at that thing,” “Am I truly to believe that creature is a Tekton,” “I can’t believe these two were even allowed into the building,” and “Let us hope they have had their shots.” It took everything that Rocket had inside of him to keep from either latching onto the rich wool of Lethys pantleg or fleeing the room.

His crimson eyes swept the room, searching for even one friendly face. Just as he began to harden his heart against the whole assembly, a bald, short, and aging man and a willowy tall and thin woman stepped into the aisle. “Rocket, my boy!” the older man smiled in true welcome, and Rocket recognized the jovial voice.

“Professor Stollwizer?” he guessed from the rich baritone of his favorite teacher.

“Yes, indeed! It is a pleasure to finally meet you, young man,” Professor Stollwizer smiled his bushy mustache moving with his lips.

“Nice to meet you, Professor,” Rocket said with his best manners, voice clear and free of accent as he could manage.

The little man shook Rocket’s hand with real affection before offering his hand to Lethys. “Sir, your son is the most brilliant scholar I have ever had the good fortune to teach. You must be so proud of him,” the man enthused.

Lethys guarded expression smoothed into one of beaming pride, “I am most proud of him and his achievements,” he agreed, his massive paw completely engulfing the man’s small hand.

“Ah, Rocket, Mr. Kavashi,” Professor Stollwizer smiled broadly as he gestured at the thin woman next to him, “This is Professor Rikthi. Rocket, you will be the teaching assistant in her introductory physics and mechanical theories classes.”

Professor Rikthi bent down to offer her hand to Rocket. She had an ageless face, a monocle, and a soft, kind voice, “I’ve heard how hard of a worker you are, Rocket. I’m sure we will get along well.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain about that,” interjected a middle-aged Xandarian who eyed Rocket and Lethys with a sneer of derision as he pushed up his glasses and shoved his way past Professor Stollwizer. “It hasn’t yet presented any proof that he is the true author of the paper submitted,” the man continued in an annoyingly nasal voice.

“He,” growled Lethys looming over the man, “My son is a person, a male, he is not an it.”

“It,” the man snarled back, uncowed by Lethys’ size and ferocity, “Is an animal, a sick joke being played on our university by this preposterous creature,” the man indicated to Lethys then and smiled meanly. Every cell in Rocket’s body longed to hide behind his father from this sharp man that reminded him too much of his Sire. “How long did it take you to train it to wear clothes? Stand on its hind legs? There is no possibility of this little monster having authored-”

“Enough-” interrupted Professor Stollwizer in booming voice at odds with his cheerful seeming mien. “I assure you that no one else but Rocket Kivashi could have written the thesis in question,” Professor Stollwizer frowned up at the man, “I advised him extensively during the writing process, his voice has always been the same, writing style the same, intelligence unrivaled by any person I’ve ever met-”

“Shall I tell you how easy it would be to fake a voice, old man? Are you so far into your dotage that you actually believe this preposterous lie?” the angry man hissed. He pointed at Lethys, “The only thing that surprises me, is that you planned this ruse so poorly. Couldn’t you have engineered something that looked more convincing? I can see bolts sticking out of its face.”

Rocket barely controlled the instinctive reaction to touch the metal on his cheeks. Heat burned his face, and he wanted to cry, but just as he was about to open his mouth on a silent sob, a memory flickered in his mind.

The evening before he’d stood on the stool in Petra’s bathroom combing his face fur, trying to style it in a way that would cover the metal there. As he grew older, Rocket’s fur grew more and more luxurious, but it still didn’t cover that hateful metal in his face. He sighed and considered using some of Petra’s hair gel, but thought better of it when he remembered that it accentuated her curls but did little to control them.

“Whatcha doin’?” Petra asked appearing behind him in her nightshirt.

“Oh, nothing,” he tried to lie.

“Rocky, you were combing like you wanted to pull out all your fur. What are you doing?” Petra countered as she came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Standing like this, his head was just below her chest; if she leaned forward any closer, she could rest her breasts against the top of his head, a thought that made his embarrassment flare even hotter.

“People will see the metal in my face, see what a freak I am,” he whispered watching Petra’s face in the mirror.

She frowned then and used her hands to turn him to face her. “There is nothing about you that makes you a freak, Rocky. Besides lots of spacers have mods.”

“What will I say if people ask about them?” he asked her, so many things he had to cover for, think of excuses for.

“Tell them to mind their goddamn business, is what you’ll say,” Petra replied with real heat, “Tell those rude motherfuckers to fuck right off.” She searched his face and found him still uncertain and lost. Petra leaned in close and slowly, purposely pressed a kiss right over both protruding metal implants. “You tell those assholes that your girlfriend kisses your beautiful face so much you had to your cheeks reenforced, that you’re just that irresistible to her.”

Rocket’s eyes went wide and he whispered, “No one would ever believe that. I don’t even believe that. I-”

Instead of answering him with words, Petra lowered her face and pressed her lips to the metal collarbones holding his shoulders back, kissed the metal bars that squeezed his chest. “I will kiss any part of you to convince you otherwise,” she whispered against the scarred naked skin around the outer ribs. “So don’t you even care about what anyone thinks about your body but me.”

Inside of Rocket’s chest fear turned to anger, because, the truth was, his appearance didn’t and shouldn’t matter. Lethys and Petra loved and accepted him, and that was all he needed. This fucker’s opinion didn’t matter at all. “It is too my paper,” Rocket found himself declaring loudly enough that the whole hall went still. “I wrote every single word, and in my defense I’ll prove it beyond doubt.”

Every eye was swiveled his way, every human face staring at him in either disbelief or shock except for Professor Stollwizer and Professor Rikthi who smiled warmly. “Ask any question you want about my paper,” Rocket said casually as he walked to the stage. Before he stepped up the first stair, he shot back over his shoulder, “Of course, that’s assuming that you can understand the complexity of the work in question.”

[allthewriteplaces]

Magnolia in May ~ Chapter Four

Author's Note: Oh, look, I'm actually on time for once! Anyway, to all of my American friends who are celebrating today, Happy Thanksgiving, and to the rest of you, I hope you're having a great week, but if not, here's a big hug!

Chapter Summary: Jessie spends more time with the kids, who give her a tour of the house.

Chapter Warning(s): None

Word count: 2466

Chapter Four

Mrs. Milligan arrived shortly after we left the ballroom and so we had to cut our tour short, much to Ruby’s disappointment, since she was really looking forward to showing me the upstairs, but I promised her that we would continue the tour later once they were finished and that she and Charlie could show me what they learned in class if they wanted to, seemed to lift her spirits again.

Frances showed me to my room while the children were starting their music lesson. She led me up a flight of stairs, where a family portrait hung from the walls.

The woman, I assumed, was Mrs. Shelby.

Adorned in a mahogany dress that complimented her figure perfectly, she stood, facing the painter and her lips, which matched the colour of the dress, looked as though she were holding back a smile. Her blonde hair was curled and brushed against her blushing cheeks.

On her lap, Charlie sat, dressed in a mustard-coloured shirt with buttons, blue stockings and a pair of black dress shoes. His head was almost dead centre, his hair was much darker back then, I noted, though his eyes still held that mischievous sparkle, and he was facing away from the painter, instead, looking up at his father.

Several things told me that he was the main focus of this painting, the first being that he was framed by the bodies and inclined heads of his parents. Secondly, the light, possibly coming from a lamp in the room where this work of art was created, hit his face fully, unlike the part-shaded faces of his parents. Thirdly, his posture unified the composition as he looked towards, though probably not quite at, his father from his mother’s breast.

Yes, Charlie was the centre of their universe, that much was clear.

Thomas hadn’t changed much, I noticed. He still wore that same, thoughtful expression, as though his mind was elsewhere, no matter how hard he tried to keep himself tied down to Earth.

There was another painting as well that caught my eye.

Her expression was far from warm, unlike in the last portrait, in fact it could be described as judgemental, like she could see through me and my confident facade; but there was something, almost like devotion, in her eyes as well. She was bathed in a halo of white light, making her appear almost angelic and for some reason, I found it difficult to tear myself away from her gaze.

Walking down these halls, I thought, was like entering a museum.

Everything was pristine and perfect and elegant, and my room, which was not far from the staircase, was no exception. The windows were huge and framed in fine, elaborate frames and they looked out over the sweeping countryside.

Where else am I going to get a view like this? I thought.

The sound of a car door slamming shut prevented me from speaking my thoughts out loud. In the corner of my eye, I saw a silver car pulling up in the driveway and a pretty brunette opened the passenger side door and stepped out of it, a smile spreading on her face as Thomas approached her, placed a hand on her lower back and led her away to the stables.

“That’s Miss Carleton,” said Frances, nodding to the woman and then leaned in to add. “Comes around here every week to train Mister Shelby’s racing horses. She’s quite wealthy, they say. Owns her own prize-winning stud.”

“Apparently she stays overnight as well?” Frances’ eyes became saucers, widening in horror at the question I just asked.

“Ah, I suppose Master Charlie and Miss Ruby already told you about Miss Carleton,” she sighed while shaking her head, “they’re too smart for their own good, the pair of them. I’m warning you now, Miss, they will keep you on your toes until it feels like you’re dancing on a tightrope keeping them out of trouble.”

“Don’t worry. This isn’t my first time as a governess. Besides, I have five younger cousins at home. I’m used to it.”

“Good. Having an extra pair of hands will be a blessing.”

Laughing, I turned away from the window and my eyes landed on a wardrobe. It was dark oak, or at least that’s what it looked like to me, since I had seen similar ones in my friends’ houses. My hands gripped the handles and I gently swung open the door, expecting it to be empty, but it was full of clothes.

Dresses. Expensive ones, too.

“Those are the clothes you will wear while you stay with us,” said Frances. Shock was written on my face, I could see it in the mirror. It sounded almost too good to be true, these nice clothes, a spacious bedroom, it was more than someone like me, of my station, could possibly ask for. “Mister Shelby insisted that you have something new, as a way to symbolise your new life here. Speaking of which, he requests that you join him and the children for dinner this evening, shall I tell him you will be attending?”

All I could do was nod in response.

“Very well then. I will send someone up in a moment to collect your old clothes, in case you would like to have them washed. There’s a basket just there.” She nodded toward a wicker basket in front of the wardrobe. “In the meantime, I’ll give you some time to settle in, and if you need anything else, give me a shout.”

“Of course.” I replied, “Thank you, Frances.”

With a polite bow of her head, she scuttled toward the door and the second it clicked closed behind her, I exhaled. Now I was alone, standing in the middle of the room, the light of the window shining in. I stepped over to it, taking a moment to admire the view.

Never had I seen such beauty, and I could only stare in amazement. I saw my suitcase against the wall. Having some free time on my hands meant that I could start unpacking my belongings.

Unzipping the suitcase on the floor, I kneeled in front of it.

First, I took out my Bible, the one my mother bought for me, my name written in pen on the front cover, and set it on the floor beside me. My aunt had also packed a new diary for me. At home, we were encouraged to keep a diary, as a way of reflecting on ourselves, but also as a safe space to sort through our thoughts and feelings. It was small, with a black cover and a gold bookmark. I set it on top of the Bible.

The portrait of my family went beside them. I wouldn’t be seeing them anytime soon.

Next, I began to sort through the layers of clothes Eliza had packed. The clothes I regularly wore — loose dresses, frilly, puffed blouses and fluted skirts — were more suited for housework, and some of the nicer ones were reserved for Sundays, picnics or house parties, which we were sometimes allowed to go to if they were held by close friends or neighbours.

Keeping them all folded, I set them nicely into another pile. The few things I had managed to bring with me didn’t add up to much, but they were the last few things tying me to my life back home, my family, and my faith.

God has always been by my side during the toughest times in my life, showed me where to go when I was lost and unable to find my way, and it’s His will that brought me here to these children and to help them prepare for the world outside these doors.

Standing up, I started putting things away in drawers and wardrobes and put my Bible on my bedside table. I didn’t pin Thomas as the ‘Church going’ type, but perhaps on Sundays, I would be allowed a few hours in the morning to pray before tending to my other duties.

With my suitcase now empty and the old clothes in a small brown basket, I settled into my chair by the window with a sigh and a soft smile. The warm sunshine and gentle breeze from outside served as the perfect companion. A sense of peacefulness washed over me.

I could definitely get used to this.

I uncapped my pen, and opened my diary, turning to the first blank page.

Saturday, May 10th 1930

Gosh, where do I begin? One minute I am in the nursery, playing with my cousins and now I am sitting in my room in a breathtaking mansion that looks like it’s been standing here for hundreds of years! If you had told me I was living in a museum, you wouldn’t be that far off. And you should see the new clothes in my wardrobe! They are the kinds of dresses I would see all the other girls wearing to garden parties and evening soirees. Don’t get me wrong, I am incredibly thankful that my employer has gifted me with such lavish dresses, but I would have been just as content wearing my old clothes — though I suppose I might donate those once we get them washed.

I was deep in my thoughts when there was a soft knock on my bedroom door. I lifted the pen from the paper, laid my diary on top of my Bible, sat down on the mattress, and then told whoever was on the other side of the door that they could come in. The door clicked open to reveal Frances standing in the doorway.

“Pardon the interruption, Miss,” she began and then glanced down at Charlie who stood next to her, clutching his violin and bow in his hands and smiling rather proudly. “Master Charlie said he wishes to show you what he learned today.”

The boy nodded eagerly and judging from the wide smile on his face, I could tell he was impatient to regale us with some music, so I fixed my position on the bed and then beckoned them both to come in with one hand.

“Well, then, there is no time to waste!” I said, enthusiasm in my voice, and watched as he prepared himself to play. He knew exactly how to hold the instrument and where to put his delicate fingers, and when he dragged the bow across the strings…. Let’s just say it wasn’t the most pleasant sound, but he just looked so happy and proud of himself, that neither Frances nor I had the heart to discourage or criticise him.

The piece only lasted a few minutes and when he finished, we both clapped and he took a deep bow. He set the bow and violin to the side and then sat next to me on the bed, catching his breath. “It’s not as good as when Miss Milligan plays it, she makes it sound like fairy music.”

“Practise makes perfect,” I said, hoping I sounded encouraging and proud of what he did manage to learn. “The more you keep working on it, the better you will become, and who knows? In a few years, you’ll be standing up there on a stage and people will be cheering your name.”

“Really?” he asked, excited.

“Really,” I answered. I glanced toward the doorway again when I heard someone else knocking. Frances opened it and Ruby came bursting in. She plopped herself on my lap, which took me by surprise, but I held onto her so she wouldn’t slip. “Hello, there, Miss Ruby.”

“Jessie! I learned a new song today, too!” she exclaimed, practically jumping up and down because of how excited she was, “and I can play it all by myself!”

“Tell you what,” I said, adjusting her body so that she was seated more comfortably, “perhaps after dinner, you can show me what you can play. In the meantime, I think I was promised a continuation of our tour.”

We still had a bit of time left on our hands before we would need to start getting ready for dinner, so I didn’t see the harm of continuing to explore the estate. Ruby slid off my lap and then dashed out the door and Charlie followed after her, leaving his violin behind.

“I’ll take that in,” Frances volunteered, “you’d better go.”

Thanking her, I called after them. “Wait for me!”

“Hurry up!” Charlie yelled back. “You’re like a turtle!”

“Slow and steady wins the race,” I tutted and they started running, their shoes slapping against the hardwood floor, as I allowed them to lead me through the halls, show me all their favourite rooms, including a playroom, filled with toys and books, and even a rocking horse.

“Wanna try it?” asked Charlie and I laughed.

“Hm, I’m not as small as I used to be. I might not fit.”

“Please?” Ruby begged, her brown eyes twinkling in the light coming from the window. Charlie aided her in her pleas, making saying ‘no’ to them even more impossible. I relented, sighing and shaking my head, a small smile tugging at my lips.

Satisfied, they clapped their hands as I approached the horse, one leg on both sides and I sat, being careful not to put too much weight on the wooden back, so as not to damage what might have been a priceless treasure.

“Giddy up!” Charlie cheered and I did my best imitation of a horse, making it rock a few more times, before I got off and then fixed up my skirts. I couldn’t help but smile. I had a feeling that I was going to have a great deal of fun playing games with the children, and it was impossible not to feel excited at the prospect. We could do anything, and I had a feeling that no matter what it was, it would be an absolute blast having them as my opponent.

“Wanna play another game?” asked Ruby, taking my hands in hers.

“How could I pass up on the offer?” I said. “What shall we play?”

“Tag!” she said, tapping my shoulder. “You’re it!”

Without any further warning, I suddenly grabbed her by the waist and swung her up into the air, making her squeal and giggle in surprise and when I put her down again, Charlie took her hand, made a run for it, and I chased them around the house, the three of us laughing and shrieking as we ran and tackled and dodged each other.

Seeing the kids so full of laughter and playfulness, I could feel the stress and anxiety of the day melt away and I felt a wave of relaxation and peace wash over me. What better way to spend the time than playing and laughing like this?

To Be Continued

taglist: @runnning-outof-time @zablife

[scumbag-monthly]

The Young Ones - Summer Holiday 🌞

Original air date: 19.6.84

Reviewed by: @postpunkpontypandyphantomthief

Summer Holiday, the final flash in the pan, while The Young Ones had become a comedy sensation, all good things must come to an end “as they say” and the writers of The Young Ones made sure that this would go out with a bang, because they ran out of ideas.

The title Summer Holiday is a reference to a Cliff Richard song and film of the same name, this will be relevant later.

One of the details of Summer Holiday that makes it stand out compared to other Young Ones episodes is the emotion, while the cast of chaotic characters were definitely not devoid of that. In the previous episodes their reactions were always comedic and tongue in cheek, (ooer), this episode has some surprisingly serious moments for a British sitcom finale.

Scenes like when Rick has to process the fact his parents are dead, the lads realizing that they have nowhere else to go but the streets and Vyvyan, who sobs upon realizing SPG died in a brief car crash, some of these scenes still have 4th wall jokes thrown in but it’s still a surprise to see these characters acknowledge the dreaded reality of “the real world”, the fact that Thatcher was as ruddy terrible as Rick made her out to be, that the smug posh tory students had no idea about what it was like for working-class university students in the 1980s, being told and trained to enter adulthood only to have to deal with unemployment and bastard landlords.

Apathy is referenced quite a lot in this episode, there’s Mike being an inconsiderate git to Neil about his birthday, there’s Mr Balowski making the characters homeless, Dawn, the one-off university friend of the lads saying that surely their exam results will help them forget about the fact that they don’t have a place to live anymore and SPG, even in death as he rises up to the golden cage in the sky, he remarks that Vyvyan is a “wimp” for crying in his grief.

Part of what made The Young Ones stand out to other sitcoms was that it was anarchic and angry, with characters who hated each other, this is usually played for laughs, but in this episode, we see that realistically they have a lot of communication problems.

For starters, Mike the so-called “dad figure” for the group ends up not being the cool, voice of the reason that he was perceived to be, he’s a selfish tory who cares about nobody but himself and even when the lads are evicted, he’s only whining about the fact that he has to deal with it.

He is such a nasty git to Neil, when Neil was just trying to find the silver lining and celebrate something positive he had to just shut it down, more like Mike the cold, cruel person.

Neil isn’t as gloomy as he usually is, he ends up getting the top exam results out of all the lads, he has a few funny quips about the BBC’s music choices and getting his wig snatched, but he still moans which is mocked by someone drawing silly faces over him, to be fair he has a reason to moan, he wants to just celebrate his birthday party but the spirits are down, which makes him very “heavy”.

Not as heavy as when he briefly turns into the Hulk, throwing Rick and Mike over the grass like a wrestler, quite the change from his typical pacifist attitude, until it’s revealed it was merely him being shirtless and “presumably” high.

Vyvyan is lacking stimulation, he is very bored and sober which he makes everyone aware of at the start of the episode, even his meaningless violence feels less extreme than usual, he likes pondering about silly stop-motion ants being at discos (complete with sequins) and playing a bit of cricket which is really "let’s play swing the bat into rick’s face", while he gets top marks like Neil, he can’t celebrate for long because soon he crashes his car and kills his hamster (accidentally), his crying shows that he did actually care for SPG, they just had the typical snarky like/dislike relationship that some people can have with their pets.

Vyvyan also remarks that Rick is a pervert when Rick asks about gender in his Botticelli game, would this imply that Vyvyan is trans or transphobic, who knows, but people can make their own interpretations, he is quite offended when Rick mentions about Vyvyan being a girl's name, but let’s not forget when Rick said “I’m not a girl at all” snarkily in the interesting episode, and when he remarks “I am a boy” after making an insistent remark about blue aeroplanes on his bedroom wall, some say Rick’s a trans dude, most of the early fanwork depicts Rick as transfem, it depends.

Speaking of the transvestite sapphic with a cartoon worm on his y fronts, Rick is one of the few characters in the episode who is being somewhat sympathetic about their situation, he complains about his parents, and he tries to come up with distractions for their boredom (despite some tone miscommunication), he complains about being evicted, about fighting the establishment, referencing the Red Army Faction, issues that are relevant to left-wing/anarchist circles, while some usual performativity does show when he talks about his parents, thatcher and the unemployed, the eviction is quite a wake-up call, he’s still a bit of a pratt to Neil but not as much as Mike is, it’s implied that Vyvyan fancies him, he could be messing with him but also why else would he choose to mess with the prick so much? Why else would he go rummaging through his things?

"He was the punk and Rick listened to Spandau Ballet"~

Another actually “anarchist” thing that Rick does in this episode is that he manages to successfully steal a bus.

There are a few typical young ones regulars and tropes, Helen Lederer speaking like a robot clerk at the bank robbery, Jools Holland in the queue and John Otway singing Body Talk, if you look closely you can also find Norman Lovett of Red Dwarf fame, Ben Elton appears in a beer advert parody referencing the sexist stereotypes of adverts at the time, Vyvyan mentions Keith Harris the puppeteer, Mike mentions a Gone with the Wind quote and there’s a cutaway sketch of a dysfunctional “nuclear family” being gross and deviant, a mocking social commentary of the “family-friendly” 70s sitcoms that the young ones were up against, this reminds me a bit of a monty python sketch of a similar premise.

This might seem like just one of the many satirical cutaway gags made in The Young Ones about its mark in the comedy world at the time and how subversive it was, but it’s also symbolic in how comedy was moving forward, it wasn’t just a technical transition but a metaphorical one, as this was the last Young Ones episode aired and produced.

As the Lads drive off away from the city, they suddenly feel happy and energized, they’re just singing along to cliff Richard songs while Neil plays guitar, determined that they can still have a good life without silly o level results, Rick briefly mentions Una Stubbs, one of Cliff’s brief love interests, before they realize a Cliff Richard billboard is in their way, they then crash, turns out Rick was right, there were now at the gates of oblivion before the bus combusts into flames as the credits roll.

For some fans of the ratty britcom lads, this episode is more sad than funny, and as you read this analysis I’m sure you can see why, from 1981-1984, Britain had gotten used to these punk students on the television screen, they opened people’s minds and made a few knob and bum gags but they changed comedy and the world, highlighting the political issues of thatcher’s government aswell as the social issues teens were dealing with, complete with topical references to the popular shows and films like The Good Life, Dallas and The Hulk.

So to see these characters that we had gotten so used to, suddenly dying in a comedic bus crash, was quite a shock for some viewers, but it had to happen, how else was comedy gonna progress after that?

There was more comedic chaos to come both on Rik’s end (ooer) and from Britain’s alternative comedy circuit, but even today in modern shows like IT Crowd and Derry Girls, the influence and impact that The Young Ones had left can still be seen to this day.

The Young Ones would appear once again for a comic relief special cover performance of Cliff Richard’s Living Doll, it ended up being top of the charts for three weeks in March 1986.

Showing that their song shall always be sung.

[celebritydecks]

Deep Roy Movies, TV Shows, Wiki, Biography, Height, Net Worth and Age

Deep Roy is an amazing personality in the world of entertainment who stands out for both his extraordinary talent and one-of-a-kind quality. His exceptional performances and his distinctive height of 4 feet 4 inches (1.32 meters) have mesmerized audiences all over the world. This Kenyan-British actor, puppeteer and stuntman is also a model. Join us as we explore Deep Roy’s interesting life and career to learn more about his outstanding achievements, legendary roles, and other things.

Deep Roy Wiki / Biography

Mohinder Purba, Deep Roy’s birth name, entered the world on December 1st, 1957 (65 years as of October 2023) in Nairobi, Kenya. He was born into a Sikh family of Indian parents, setting the stage for an exceptional life. Despite having unusual physical characteristics, Deep Roy’s entry into the entertainment industry was far from straightforward.

While living in London, he initially tried his hand at the accounting sector but soon recognized that something else was more his true calling. At the youthful age of 18, he bravely decided to discontinue his accounting studies, setting out on a journey that would eventually take him to the most prestigious stages and screens in the world.

A Humble Beginning

Deep Roy’s early years in the entertainment industry were characterized by determination and commitment. When he made his stand-up comedy debut in local cabaret clubs across England in 1970, his career took off. His comedic skill and charisma on stage led him to fame and a big following.

At the Palace Theatre in Westcliff-on-Sea, Roy was performing in Ray Cooney’s “Miracle Worker” by April 1970. This was the first step in a career that would soon have a lasting impression on the entertainment industry.

The Silver Screen Debut

He quickly made the move from television to film. He made his professional acting debut in 1976 in “The New Avengers” episode “Target!”His portrayal of the character Klokoe served as his official access into the film industry.

Later on in the same year, he appeared on film in “The Pink Panther Strikes Again,” playing the Italian Assassin. The career that would eventually feature a wide range of characters and genres was made possible by these early assignments.

The Sci-Fi Connection

His adaptable skills also fit in the world of science fiction. His performance as Mr. Sin, the “pig-brained Peking Homunculus” in the classic “Doctor Who” episode “The Talons of Weng-Chiang” demonstrated his talent for bringing unusual and unforgettable characters to life.

Roy’s role as Yoda’s size double in “Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back” and his subsequent addition to the “Star Wars” saga further established Roy as a science fiction genre.

The Oompa-Loompa Phenomenon

While Deep Roy has made significant contributions to a number of film universes, his performance in Tim Burton’s 2005 adaptation of the Roald Dahl classic “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” may have been his most well-known. Deep Roy accomplished the amazing task of portraying all 165 Oompa-Loompas in this humorous version. He had to undergo significant dancing, yoga and even minor instrument playing training for the role, which was nothing short of amazing.

A Stint in the Stars

The connection between Deep Roy and science fiction didn’t end with “Star Wars.” As Keenser, Scotty’s assistant on the ice planet Delta Vega, he also entered the “Star Trek” world. The films “Star Trek” (2009), “Star Trek Into Darkness” (2013), and “Star Trek Beyond” (2016) all featured this character. He was notable for being one of just five performers to hold the prestigious distinction of having roles in both “Star Wars” and “Star Trek.”

A Multifaceted Career

Over 70 TV shows and movies have benefited from Deep Roy’s talent over the course of his successful career. He has played a variety of characters, from the Tin Woodman in “Return to Oz” to Teeny Weeny in “The NeverEnding Story,” demonstrating his versatility and ability to bring to life a variety of personalities. He has effectively surpassed the limitations of typecasting, demonstrating that talent knows no size.

Awards

He won at Best Shorts Competition in 2012 for The Ballad of Sandeep (2011) as Leading Actor.

He won at Colorado Film Festival, US in 2011 for The Ballad of Sandeep (2011) as Best Actor.

He won at Sunset International Film Festival in 2012 for The Ballad of Sandeep (2011) as Best Actor.

He won at Top Shorts Film Festival in 2017 for God Came ‘Round (2017) as Best Actor In An Indie Film.

He won gold award at LA Shorts Awards in 2018 for God Came ‘Round (2017) as Best Actor.

He won diamond award at NYC Indie Film Awards in 2017 for God Came ‘Round (2017) as Best Actor.

He won Grand Jury Prize at London Independent Film Awards in 2017 for God Came ‘Round (2017) as best actor.

He won at Global Film Festival Awards in 2018 for God Came ‘Round (2017) as best actor.

He won diamond award at Mindfield Film Festival Albuquerque in 2018 for God Came ‘Round (2017) as best actor.

He won at Virgin Spring Cinefest in 2018 for God Came ‘Round (2017) as best actor.

He won silver award at Independent Shorts Awards in 2018 for God Came ‘Round (2017) as best actor.

Personal Life

Although Deep Roy is a well-known personality in the entertainment business, his private life has remained wrapped in mystery. Although he is married to Millie Farris, little is known about his personal life. This commitment to privacy underscores the fact that Deep Roy is first and foremost a dedicated artist, focusing on his craft rather than the spotlight.

Deep Roy Height

He has become a recognizable name in the industry thanks to his remarkable physical attributes. He is a living example that brilliance comes in many shapes and sizes, standing at 4 feet 4 inches (1.32 meters) and weighing roughly 105 pounds (48 kilograms).

Deep Roy Net Worth

His net worth is now believed to be between $500k to $1M according to the most recent estimations. Along with his varied range of roles, his efforts to TV and movies have not only made him a well-liked icon but also a prosperous one.

Top Interesting Facts: Deep Roy

His amazing performance in “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” as all 165 Oompa-Loompas forced him to take Pilates and dance classes to prepare for the four musical routines.

In 1970, he began his career in stand-up comedy at small cabaret club in England.

The Slim Wood School of Comedy was his place of study.

His career in entertainment began when he was a small child and performed in a circus.

He has performed as a puppeteer and voice actor in addition to acting.

[winelover1989]

Draco stood a bit straighter as he made his way to the Headmistress's office. For the very first time in his life, he felt so intimidated, his heart overflowing with respect, so desperate to impress the person holding the office. This was no Dumbledore. She was a legend. Unparalleled. The greatest sorceress of all time. Inventor of the  Dreamless Sleep  potion. The only animagi in existence to transform into a dragon.

He knocked upon the ornate black and green with wings and horns carved into it. "Headmistress Maleficent?"

"Mr. Malfoy," she said, gesturing for him to take a seat.

The room would look exactly like a dragon's liar if it wasn't situated upon the highest tower with large circular windows in each cardinal direction. The circular windows, combined with the vaulted ceiling, gave the room more of a nest like vibe. The vines practically strangling the exterior walls of the tower had crept into the interior walls through the windows. Potted plants dominated every conceivable surface. Several flowering plants even hung from the ceiling like chandeliers with blossoms cascading down from them instead of crystals. Dry herbs hung over a workbench in a corner. A cauldron bubbled on low heat. Draco gingerly approached the imperious desk she sat behind. A raven, perched upon a stand on the table, flapping its wings.

"This is Diablo," Maleficent informed him. He already knew. He also had the good sense to bring a treat for the witch's familiar.

That earned him half a smile from the headmistress.

The first order of business was the forging of an Unbreakable Vow between him and the headmistress. He would never betray the location of the university or the route he took through the magical forest. He could not disclose the inner workings of the university to a soul. There was a long list of staff members whose identities he must keep secret. There were many other clauses. It might be the most elaborate unbreakable vow he's ever made in his life. Draco was certain that other than his personal experiences, skills, and knowledge, there was little else he would be able to tell another soul about his time here.

"You come highly recommended from your sponsor here," Maleficent said when all was said and done. Oh, wait, what sponsor? All he knew was that his mother somehow knew about this oh-so-secretive university. Maybe she knew someone here. Someone who sponsored him? He had to find out who without coming across as a fool in front of the headmistress. "Have you brought your transcripts?"

Draco offered up his academic records, along with the sealed letter his mother had written to the headmistress.

"So..." Maleficent began, stretching the word for all its worth, "What was your favorite subject in school, Mr. Malfoy?"

"My favorite?" Draco was stumped by the question. He was under the impression that all the choices for what he was going to study here were already made by his parents in accordance with what would serve the Dark Lord best.

"What did you enjoy the most in school?"

"Quidditch," Draco shrugged.

Maleficent raised a brow. Uh oh. Did he already fail at not coming across as a fool? "Academically, Mr. Malfoy." He did. He failed spectacularly.

"Transfiguration and Charms," Draco said before adding, "Astronomy too in a rather unconventional sort of a way."  

"You have outstanding scores in Potions," Maleficent pointed out, "and come with a glowing recommendation from Severus Snape. That man knows a thing or two about Potions."

"Yes, potion making has always come quite effortlessly to me," Draco replied. "Even before school. When just helping my mother out."

Maleficent ripped over his mother's letter and her lips stretched into a real smile. "So, you're a natural Occulumency as well? Trained by Bellatrix Lestrange." Without a word of warning, she met his gaze and entered his mind. He wasn't ready for it but he did his best. Summoning his defensive walls and the most offensive triggering images to the forefront of his mind, he quickly put booby traps in place, before safely tucking away his consciousness into the labyrinth any mind reader would get lost in before finding anything of value. The onslaught of triggering images and the first few booby traps were more than enough to throw her out of his mind. Though, not before she saw his reaction to their meeting. "I'm flattered by how highly you think of me and impressed by your defenses. And here I thought your mother was exaggerating. She also writes you enjoy working with magical artifacts and are very creative in your approach."

Draco nodded. That was one way of describing his time mending the vanishing cabinet all of last year. Leave it to Mother to spin the wretched reason for his falling grades and a complete lack of extracurricular activities in sixth year in his favor.

"Considering how much you enjoyed transfiguration, charms, astronomy, and working with magical artifacts, combined with your natural affinity for potion making, I find you exceptionally well suited for Alchemy."

"Alchemy?" Draco asked, stunned. "But I have no interest in becoming a healer."

Maleficent scoffed. "Alchemy is far too diverse a discipline to be reduced to healing."

"I already have enough gold to bother with the pursuit of turning lead to gold," Draco stated matter of factly. Was it gauche of him? Yes. But it was also true.  

"Far too diverse," is all she had to say in return.

"Self healing?" Draco asked, quite offended now. "I don't know how I feel about spending years trying to transform myself into a good man. No offense to Alchemists who take that inner journey. I'm personally not suited for it. I don't know if it's even possible for me to become a better man. And if I'm being entirely honest, I'm a gifted Occulumens precisely because I have no desire to unpack all my issues, let alone actively dwell upon them day in and day out."

"Yes, evolving into the most powerful version of yourself is a part of it," Maleficent said in her best attempt at humoring him without showing her frustration at the Hogwarts point of view that had clearly rubbed off on him over the years. "But there's a lot more to it."

"What if I end up looking like the dark lord in trying to evolve?" Draco asked, shuddering at the prospect of losing his good looks, worse yet, his hair. Oh, the horror of being bald and fugging in the fugly like that. Call him vain, but power wasn't worth sabotaging this angelic aristocratic perfection.

Maleficent let out a long suffering sigh now. "Your little  dark lord  is self taught, and you know what they say, little knowledge is a dangerous thing. What he did is the exact opposite of what an alchemist attempts. He broke himself down to a grotesque shriveling fraction of a wizard. I would never advocate such a pathetic reduction of self. I think spending the rest of the day touring our Alchemy department would broaden your understanding of the field. There's no such thing as  the dark arts  or taboos here. Our only aim is to push magic beyond the limits of possibility." Draco's new wand came alive in his hands at the sound of it. Interesting. This wand seemed more sentient than any other wand he had ever held. And eager. Hungry to channel great power.

"That would help," Draco conceded. "Forgive my ignorance, Headmistress, for I come from a school where all books considered to be pushing  the dark arts  were banned."

"Dumbledore was a crazy old man full of regrets and afraid of his own shadow," Maleficent said. "Still, book banning and all this light-dark puritanical nonsense are most unbecoming of a magic school. We're a community of witches and wizards. Not an order of nuns and priests."

"Precisely," Draco nodded.

"Though, if you do find Alchemy is not for you after the tour, Legimency could be a promising major for you, given your natural talent for Occulumency," suggested the Headmistress. "It might help in your future  career  serving your  dark lord ." He didn't miss the sarcasm in her voice.

"I want nothing to do with my own thoughts," Draco said with an exasperated sigh. "Let alone invite other people's drama in my head."

Maleficent smirked. "My final recommendation? An Alchemy major with a minor in Occulumency.

Read more on ao3

[1895locktva]

DEAR PEOPLE

I saw a post just now and I felt I needed to talk about this.

People have to stop trying to defend "Mary Morstan" for shooting Sherlock. "She shot him accurately knowing she wasn't going to kill him and called an ambulance." NO, SHE DIDN'T.

I'm not even going into any metas about it – let's talk about the facts.

Sherlock enters the room, seeing a figure in black and Magnussen begging at gunpoint. We will soon discover that the figure is "Mary".

Sherlock is clearly (or apparently) shocked. As soon as he starts to speak or take a step forward she threatens to kill him, already pointing a gun at him.

Sherlock then moves on to a strategy – their love for John. He has done this already, to disarm Major Sholto and convince him to open the door (TSoT). It worked before, he believes it will work now. For as mirroring his and Sholto's love for John was able to convince him of a better purpose, he tries to do the same with "Mary". So he uses the term "Mrs. Watson", reminding her of this purpose, and steps forward.

It doesn't work – she still shoots Sherlock. Because her love for John (if there's love involved, there are several interpretations for it) is selfish and toxic, unlike Sherlock and Sholto's selfeless love. They would do anything to make John happy (going to the wedding to watch him marry someone else, even if it hurt them, is a great example).

"Mary's" love is not like that. She shoots Sherlock, knowing how miserable John was after Sherlock's "suicide", and not even once apologizes or shows remorse for it (on the contrary, she goes to the hospital bed where Sherlock is recovering from the shoot she fired and threatens him again if he tells John anything. Guys, honestly).

Now for the question "Did she actually shoot to kill him?". We know that "Mary" is a great snipper – impeccable, even. Yes, she could make mistakes (she's not a foolproof machine after all) but at that frankly ridiculous distance, the chance of a trained assassin miss the target is minimal, if not nil.

Now to the question of "She called the ambulance right after shooting him". Many things prove that, in fact, she didn't call the ambulance at all.

The show is very precise about details, especially cell phones and guns (I'll be making a meta on that last one later). For example, when Sherlock calls John to meet him in this same episode (when Ms Hudson passes the cell to John, we see discreetly, but distinctly the glow of a cell phone on a call).

In the 'replay' of what might have happened after "Mary" fired the shot (remember, this can't be taken as true for it's a hypothetical scenario that Sherlock creates, and he was unconscious at the time), we see that when she catches the cell phone to "call an ambulance", the phone remains turned off. [You can rewatch the scene, the screen remains discreetly black].

I don't think this was a coincidence, after all, the Universe is rarely so lazy.

And more: if she actually called an ambulance, she would have immediately used that information to try to reassure John of her purpose and to appease her actions.

There are several metas and theories that go deep into this, but I don't remember who wrote them. Please feel free to mark these theories or the people who wrote them and add something you find interesting.

Finally, understand that "Mary Monstan" is an assassin. She shot Sherlock, knowing what it would do to John, apparently just to keep him. Her relationship with John is toxic, she came into his life at his most fragile moment and took advantage of it. She abused him psychologically, putting him down at every possible opportunity (she compared his intelligence to a dog's, for god's sake) and John is clearly miserable with her. It's not healthy, stop romanticizing a toxic relationship like theirs.

Sorry my English, it's not my first language.

*Oh, and something else: we all saw how hard Sherlock struggled to stay alive. He actually died for a short period of time. It was just the strength of his love and concern for what "Mary" could do to John that kept him alive. "Mary" couldn't have known that the strength of Sherlock's feelings would make him survive the shot – not to mention how surprised she seems to be when she knows Sherlock survived and how ready she was to kill him again.*

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Everyday, for the rest of forever - Fred Weasley

Title: Everyday, for the rest of forever Pairing: Fred x fem!reader, Fred x Angelina Johnson Summary: Reader watches as the person she loves falls in love with someone else A/N: This is a song fic based on the song Heather by Conan Gray and I highly recommend listening to it while you read!! I got carried away with the ending but I’m not even sorry.

Tags: @bohemianspacebabe​ @litteralywedonttalkaboutitk​

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

I still remember third of December Me in your sweater, you said it looked better On me, than it did you, only if you knew How much I liked you

“How’re you feeling?” Hermione asks quietly as she takes a seat on the edge of Y/N’s bed. She had kept the dorm up half the night with her coughing, so Hermione is pretty sure she knows the answer.

“Like shit,” Y/N answers as she rolls over in bed to look at her friend. Her throat feels raw and her voice is gravelly. Despite the fact that Y/N can feel the heat radiating off her cheeks and she’s laying under a pile of blankets she shivers as a cold chill runs down her spine.

Hermione frowns, and reaches out to touch Y/N’s forehead. “You’ve still got a fever. You sure you don’t want to go to Madam Pomfrey? She can whip up a Pepperup Potion and have you feeling better in a few minutes.”

Y/N nods, waving away the worried look Hermione gives her. “You know that always makes me feel even worse. It’s just a little cold, I’m sure I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

“If you’re sure.” Hermione stands up, pausing as she reaches for her coat. “Do you want me to stay with you? I don’t mind, there will be other Hogsmeade trips.”

Y/N shakes her head with a laugh, gesturing towards the door of their dorm room. They both can hear Ron and Harry causing some kind of commotion with Seamus and Dean down in the common room despite the fact that the thick wooden door is closed. “I’ll be fine. Those two idiots need you more than me. Someone needs to keep them in check.”

Hermione laughs too, finally pulling on her coat. “You’re not wrong about that. I’ll see you at dinner, yeah?”

“As long as you’ve got a chocolate frog for me, I’ll be there.”

Y/N lays in her bed, tossing and turning, desperately trying to fall asleep. Every time she feels herself start to drift off she either gets hit with a coughing fit or a cold chill. Muttering to herself she forces herself out of bed and trudges towards the common room with her favorite blanket, hoping the raging fire will do a better job of keeping her warm.

The common room is empty when she arrives, and she suspects it will be for the next few hours as most of her housemates are down at Hogsmeade. Y/N settles down on her favorite couch, tucking her knees to her chest and wrapping her blanket around her. She sits there in silence watching the flames when someone comes up behind her.

“No Hogsmeade for you either, eh? You set a stink bomb off in Snape’s office too?” Fred asks with a laugh as he jumps over the back of the couch and settles down next to Y/N.

Y/N’s breath catches in her throat and she hopes that her fever masks the blush that creeps up on her cheeks. She sneaks a quick glance at Fred, taking in his tousled hair and comfy sweater, before turning her attention back to the fire. Fred has been the object of her daydreams for as long as she can remember, his fiery hair and mischievous eyes never failing to cause her stomach to erupt in a flutter of butterflies.

She knows it’s wrong, to fancy the older brother of one of her best mates, but she can’t help it. Whenever she tries to push Fred from her mind he always seems to come back, her feelings for him only more intense. Fred is absolutely captivating, and she can’t help but fall a little more in love with him each time they have some kind of interaction.

“Not quite, I’m afraid,” she says with a giggle, unable to contain how giddy he makes her feel. “I’ve not been feeling well the past few days.”

Y/N watches as Fred takes in her appearance, and she curses herself for not at least trying to look cute. She knows her hair is tied up in a messy pile on top of her head, her cheeks are flushed from the fever and her eyes are glistening with tears from all of the coughing. Another shiver runs down Y/N’s spine, partially from her illness, but mostly from the butterflies Fred’s intense gaze gives her.

“Cold?” Fred asks softly, his hands reaching for the hem of his sweater as Y/N nods. He’s wearing one of his infamous Weasley sweaters, a bright orange F on the chest. Y/N has always wondered what it would feel like to wear Fred’s sweater, how intoxicating it would smell, so she can’t believe her eyes as Fred pulls it over his head and reaches out to give it to her.

Y/N can’t even think straight, let alone reach out and grab the garment from him. Her eyes are trained on the thin gray t-shirt he’s wearing, the outline of his muscles clearly visible now. She’s wondering what it would feel like to grip his built shoulders, what being wrapped in his strong arms might feel like when Fred scooches towards her.

“Here love, arms up,” Fred whispers, unwrapping the blanket draped around Y/N’s shoulders. He’s so close that she can feel his breath on her cheeks and her skin is tingling from his touch.

It would be so easy, Y/N thinks to herself as she lifts her arms up for him. It would be so easy to just lean up a little and kiss him. Her face gets even hotter at the thought of kissing Fred and she has to look away to keep herself from doing it. Y/N can feel Fred slip the sweater over her arms and down over her body. She tucks her arms back into herself, basking in the warmth that the plush knit gives her.

Fred tucks Y/N’s blanket back around her shoulders before he moves away slightly. Their arms are still touching, and Y/N takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. But all that does is make her giddier, as all she can smell is Fred.

“So, a stink bomb, eh?” Y/N asks with a small laugh once she’s calmed herself down a few minutes later.

Fred gives Y/N a wicked grin before he excitedly launches into the story. Y/N is laughing in minutes, her sickness not even on her mind anymore. Fred is the only thing she can think about, he’s the center of her universe and everything else around her is just background noise. She’s so entranced by his story and the way his eyes glint with mischief that she doesn’t notice they aren’t alone anymore until George is leaning over the back of the sofa and sticking his head in between them.

“Sorry to interrupt, Y/N but I need to steal my dear brother from you. We’ve got some business with Mr. Filch to deal with,” George says with a wink, clearly indicating that he and his brother are up to no good as per usual.

Fred’s mischievous grin reappears. “It’s all set up then, excellent.” He stands up, and Y/N immediately misses the feeling of his body next to hers. “It was lovely chatting with you, Y/N but I must be off now. I hope you feel better.”

Y/N watches as Fred follows his twin towards the portrait hole, only remembering that she’s still wearing his sweater as they go to leave. “Fred, wait!” When Fred turns back to look at her a blush forms across her cheeks. “You forgot your sweater.” Y/N goes to take it off, but Fred puts his hand up to stop her.

“Nah, keep it. I reckon it looks better on you anyway.” Fred shoots her a wink before he’s disappearing through the portrait hole after George.

Y/N falls back against the couch, her eyelids heavy. She’s asleep within seconds, a smile on her face and thoughts of Fred running through her mind.

but I watch your eyes As she walks by She's got you mesmerized

“You seem to be feeling much better,” Hermione says in lieu of a greeting when Y/N takes a seat next to her at the Gryffindor table for dinner.

Y/N nods, a dreamy smile on her face. How could she not be feeling better after the afternoon she had spent with Fred? After her short nap in the common room, still wrapped up in Fred’s sweater she had decided to pull herself together. She had changed out of her pajamas and tucked Fred’s sweater under her pillow, wanting to keep it to herself for just a bit longer. She managed to make her hair presentable just in time to meet Hermione, Ron and Harry at dinner.

“Did you finally go and see Madam Pomfrey?” Harry asks as they all start to pile food on their plates.

“No, just managed to finally get some good sleep,” Y/N responds, trying to be nonchalant. She allows herself to sneak a glance at Fred, who’s sitting a bit further down the table with George and Lee. They’re all laughing at something Fred has said, and Y/N can’t help but let a tiny smile form on her lips.

“That’s excellent. We’ll be able to work on our charms essay tonight then,” Hermione says, smiling to herself.

Ron shoves a fork full of food in his mouth as he rolls his eyes at Hermione. “Only you would be excited about doing homework on a Saturday.” At least that’s what Y/N thinks he says, his words are muffled from all the food he’s trying to talk around.

Harry laughs at Ron’s antics as Hermione scolds him for speaking with his mouth full, giving Y/N a chance to sneak another look at Fred. Her heart stops beating in her chest when it seems that he’s already gazing at her. But then she notices that he’s not looking at her, just in her direction. She gazes over her shoulder and a frown immediately forms on her face as she notices that Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet have just entered the Great Hall and are heading towards the other end of the table.

Y/N turns her attention back to Fred, watching as he follows Angelina’s every move. His focus is on Angelina completely, despite the fact that both George and Lee are trying to get his attention. Fred smiles at Angelina as she walks by, and her heart breaks when a pink blush forms on his cheeks after she waves at him.

Fred watches her until her and Alicia sit down, his attention finally back on his friends. Y/N tears her eyes away as Fred smiles dopily at George and Lee, not even seeming to care that they’re teasing him.

“You alright, Y/N?” Hermione asks, noticing her unusual silence.

Y/N tries to blink away her tears, praying none of her friends notice. “I’m starting to feel a bit ill again. I think I’ll go and see Madam Pomfrey after all.”

Without another word Y/N gets up and leaves the Great Hall, making a beeline for the Hospital Wing as the tears stream down her face.

Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty

Despite the fact that Madam Pomfrey had in fact been able to cure Y/N’s illness with a Pepperup Potion in under 30 seconds, she had allowed her to spend the night in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey had claimed it was for observation purposes only, but the wink she sent to Y/N as she bid her goodnight made Y/N sure that the older woman knew she needed some time by herself.

After a night of fitful sleep, her dreams full of images of Fred and Angelina together, Y/N sneaks back up to the common room. Thankfully, it’s early enough that the common room is completely empty as she heads up to her dorm room. She pushes the door to her dorm open quietly, not trying to wake the others.

“Are you alright? We were worried when you never made it back to the common room.” Hermione asks when Y/N is barely through the door. Hermione has always been an early riser, Y/N should have figured she’d already be awake.

Y/N puts her finger over her lips and motions towards the other side of the room, not wanting Hermione to wake up their dorm mates. She barely wants to tell Hermione, her best friend, about her heart break, let alone Lavender and Parvati. The whole school will know by lunch if they find out.

She motions for Hermione to follow her and leads them both into the bathroom attached to their room. Y/N waits until the door is shut completely before she turns to Hermione. “There, no need to get the whole school involved in my business.”

“What in the world is going on with you? And why was Fred Weasley’s sweater under your pillow?” A blush spreads across Y/N’s cheeks before she’s hit with a pang of fear. Her eyes must widen, because Hermione continues a moment later. “Don’t worry I shoved it under your bed before Lavender and Parvati came in.”

Y/N puts her head in her hands. “Thank god.” She takes a deep breath before she looks up at Hermione, the other girl’s gaze is intense, and it makes Y/N feel even worse. “Well to answer your first question yes, I am fine. I wanted to be alone last night so Madam Pomfrey let me stay the night in the Hospital Wing.”

“Well that’s good I suppose. But why did you want to be alone? And that still doesn’t answer the whole Fred thing.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. She loves Hermione, she really does, but she tends to push her buttons sometimes. “Yesterday after everyone went to Hogsmeade I couldn’t sleep so I went down to the common room. Fred sat with me, saw that I was cold, and he let me wear his sweater.” Y/N can feel her cheeks heating up and she looks down to avoid Hermione’s gaze.  

Hermione squeals, jumping up and down excitedly. Y/N had trusted Hermione with her secret crush on Fred over the summer, since they would be staying at The Burrow with the Weasley’s before the Quidditch World Cup, and Hermione would have no doubt figured it out on her own. When Y/N doesn’t share Hermione’s excitement she stops jumping and gives Y/N a worried look.

“Something happened, then? During dinner I presume. That’s why you wanted to be alone?”

Y/N nods, trying to blink away the tears that had suddenly formed in her eyes. It’s no wonder Fred doesn’t like me, with all this crying, she thinks to herself. I’m just his little brother’s stupid friend, nothing more. She lets a few tears fall before looking up to Hermione.

“I looked over at him while we were eating, and he was watching Angelina Johnson’s every move. He even blushed when she waved at him, he was bloody entranced by her.” Y/N pauses, and when Hermione doesn’t say anything she keeps rambling, needing to fill the silence. “And why wouldn’t he be? She’s easily the prettiest girl in their year, maybe even in the whole school. And she’s an amazing quidditch player. She’s strong willed and she doesn’t take shit from anyone.”

Y/N trails off and shuffles over to the nearest sink. She puts a hand on either side of the basin and leans forward, studying herself in the mirror. “And me? I’m just Ron’s friend. Ron’s plain old friend. I’m not even half as pretty as Angelina. It was stupid of me to think I ever had a chance with Fred.”

Y/N doesn’t hear Hermione move, so it comes as a surprise when she feels arms wrap around her middle as Hermione pulls her into a hug. “Don’t you dare say that about yourself,” Hermione scolds lightly. “You are smart, and beautiful and funny and kind. Any guy in this school would be lucky to have you as their girlfriend. So. So, to hell with Fred Weasley if he doesn’t like you back. He doesn’t deserve someone like you.”

Y/N manages to smile at Hermione’s words, her spirit picking up a little bit. “I’m never gonna be able to look at him again ‘mione. He was being so nice to me. I thought something was gonna happen between us. I was gonna kiss him! Can you imagine if I had? I’d be dead from embarrassment.” Why would he want to kiss me when he can kiss Angelina instead?

“Well yes, that would have been pretty embarrassing. But you didn’t do it, so that’s one good thing to focus on.” Hermione pulls away from Y/N and heads towards the door. “Now hurry up and get ready, I’m starving.”

Watch as she stands with her holding your hand Put your arm 'round her shoulder,

All anyone had been talking about for weeks was the Yule Ball. Anywhere Y/N went she could hear people talking about it, whether it was a group of girls talking excitedly about their dresses, or people talking about who they hoped to go with, she couldn’t escape it.

She was probably the only person in the school not looking forward to it. Not after she had watched Fred ask Angelina to go with him in front of the whole common room. His smile had lit up the entire room when she said yes. Y/N had stalked off to bed afterwards, tears filling her eyes as she wished it had been her. It had only been two weeks since Fred broke her heart and no matter how hard she tried to forget him she found herself falling more in love with him.

Y/N didn’t even plan on going, not wanting to sit there alone while the boy she couldn’t help but love danced with someone else. But Harry was a Triwizard Champion and he was just as lousy with romantic endeavors as she was, so Y/N had agreed to be his date. At least if she was going to sit there doing nothing she’d have Harry to keep her company.

“Blimey, Y/N. You look fit,” Ron says in surprise as Y/N joins him and Harry in front of the Great Hall.

She punches him in the arm as a blush forms on her cheeks. Her dress is a soft purple color and hangs off her shoulders, exposing her delicate collarbones. The bodice hugs her torso and flares out into a flowing skirt. She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear as she waits for someone to say something to break the awkward tension.

“He’s right, Y/N. You look beautiful,” Harry adds a moment later.

Thankfully Professor McGonagall starts ushering students into the Great Hall so the Champions can enter and officially start the Ball. Ron has just left with Parvati Patel when Hermione comes down the stairs behind them, giving them a small wave before taking Viktor Krum’s arm.

“Guess we should join them,” Y/N mumbles, taking the arm that Harry offers her.

As they enter the Great Hall behind the rest of the champions Y/N can’t help but search the crowd, trying to find Fred. She finds him quite easily, thanks to his ginger hair and the fact that he and Angelina are standing quite close to the door. She only lets her eyes linger on them for a moment, but it’s long enough for her to notice that their hands are intertwined.

She bites her lip, willing the lump that has formed in her throat to go away. When they reach the dance floor and the music begins Y/N grasps Harry’s shoulders tightly as they start to dance, hoping that he twirls her hard enough to force the thoughts of Fred out of her head.

-

“So, you just dazzle the entire school with your wonderful dance moves and then hover by the refreshments for the rest of the night?” George asks Y/N with a grin.

After she and Harry had finished their uncoordinated dance they removed themselves from the dance floor. Y/N had sat at a table with Ron and Harry for a bit, but their miserable attitudes got to be too much for her, so she decided to grab a drink. Her sudden need for a refreshment had nothing to do with the fact that she had a perfect view of Fred and Angelina dancing.

“Dazzle? I don’t know if that’s the particular word to describe whatever Harry and I ended up doing on that dancefloor,” Y/N says with a laugh.

George shrugs his shoulders and grabs a drink as he comes to stand next to Y/N. “It’s more coordinated than whatever the hell is going on over there.” George gestures towards a group of Durmstrang boys, who are doing some combination of jumping and arm thrashing that looks more like someone drowning in a lake than dancing.

Y/N laughs again, shoving George’s shoulder lightly. “Potter may be a champion or whatever but he’s a lousy date. This is the most fun I’ve had all night.” She pauses, looking up at George. “What about you? Where’s your date?”

George shrugs nonchalantly, taking a long sip of his drink. “Decided to be bold, come by myself.” When Y/N gives him a questioning look he continues. “The girl I wanted to go with got asked by someone else and I really couldn’t be bothered to find another date.”

Y/N hums in understanding, giving George a nod. “Yeah, that’s how I ended up with my winner of a date.”

George says something else to her, but all her focus is on Fred and Angelina. They’ve finally stopped dancing and are heading right towards where Y/N and George are standing. The grip she has on her cup tightens as Fred puts his arm around Angelina’s shoulders, pulling her close to his side. I would give anything to be Angelina, Y/N thinks to herself as Angelina’s arms wind around Fred’s middle. They pass by George and Y/N without even sparing them a glance and leave the Great Hall.

She hears George mutter something about how they’re probably going to go make out somewhere, but the sound of her heart breaking even further is too loud in her ears for her to be sure. She hears herself bid goodnight to George before she’s turning on her heal and making a mad dash back to her dorm.

Y/N manages to keep her tears inside until she’s curled up in bed, her arms hugging Fred’s sweater tightly to her chest.

But how could I hate her? She's such an angel But then again, kinda wish she were dead

In the days following the Yule Ball Y/N does her best to keep to herself. She heads to meals early, so she’s already eaten by the time the rest of the school heads to the Great Hall. Since it’s still the Christmas holidays the Gryffindor common room is always packed full of students, so she spends most of her time in the library and doesn’t head back until late at night when most of her house is already asleep.

She knows her friends are worried about her and she misses spending time with them, but she can’t bring herself to. Wherever Ron, Harry and Hermione are it’s likely that Fred and George will be lurking around somewhere, and she’s not ready to face Fred yet. She feels like such an idiot, she had let her daydreams get the better of her. After that day in the common room she thought that something would happen between her and Fred, but as she falls asleep every night she can’t help but think that it was all in her head.

So, Y/N sits in the library everyday with only Madam Pince to keep her company, her schoolbooks spread out in front of her but not much work being done. She always means to get work done, but she can’t help but let her mind wander to Fred. As much as it hurts her to, she can’t stop thinking about him. It doesn’t help that she still has his sweater tucked under her pillow. It still smells like him, and as she drifts to sleep at night she likes to pretend he’s right there next to her.

“Hey, Y/N. How’s it going?”

Y/N can feel the blood run out of her face as she looks up at the person who pulled her from her thoughts of Fred and is met with Angelina Johnson. Her grip on her quill tightens as a blush spreads across her cheeks. Y/N smiles at Angelina, trying to seem normal.

“It’s going alright. Just working on a potions essay Snape set for the break,” she answers casually. She watches Angelina’s eyes flick towards the parchment in front of her, which is completely empty. “Or trying to at least,” Y/N adds quickly, trying to think of a reason as to why her sheet is blank. “Potions isn’t really my best class.”

While it’s not a lie, Y/N still feels bad. She had already planned out her entire essay, she was just too busy thinking about Fred and Angelina breaking up to actually write it all down. But what was she supposed to say? I was too busy thinking about you dying so I could have your boyfriend to do my homework.

“Snape is such a prick. He gave us an essay as well. I could help you, if you want. Potions isn’t my best class either, but I bet with both of our intelligence combined we could knock it out in no time,” she offers with a warm smile.

Y/N feels like she is going to throw up. Angelina is being so nice to her, and Y/N doesn’t deserve it. She’s spent the past few weeks hating Angelina’s guts, wishing that Fred would break her heart just as he had broken hers. But, it’s not Angelina’s fault that Fred had hurt her. It’s not like Angelina stole her boyfriend or something, she has no idea that Y/N likes Fred. Not even Fred knows.

Y/N nods, moving some of her stuff so Angelina can sit down. “That would be great, thanks.”

As they work together quietly, Y/N feels worse and worse about her thoughts over these past few weeks. Angelina isn’t the evil witch she’d made her out to be in her head. She’s actually an angel and she feels intense regret for kind of wishing she was dead. She’s in the middle of copying something down when Angelina nudges her.

“What did you think of the ball? It looked like you were having fun with George.” Angelina’s tone seems casual, but Y/N can tell she isn’t just asking her a random question.

Y/N shrugs her shoulders, deciding to play into whatever game Angelina was baiting her into. “It was alright. And yeah, I guess I had fun with George, we only talked for a few minutes before I decided to leave.”

Angelina doesn’t do a great job at hiding her surprise. “Oh, really? I heard from um, someone, that you guys spent most of the night together.”

Y/N gives Angelina a look. “Really? That’s odd. I danced with Harry once and then sat with him and Ron for a bit. I went and got a drink, talked to George for a bit and then went back up to my room.”

“Oh. So, you don’t like George? Like more than a friend?” Angelina asks, again, failing at sounding casual.

Y/N shakes her head. “God no. I mean he’s a great bloke but there’s someone else that I like. More than a friend.” Y/N mentally slaps herself, wondering why in the world she felt the need to tell Angelina that.

Luckily the older girl doesn’t question her further, she just murmurs out a quiet, “Interesting,” before she turns her attention back to Y/N’s potions essay.

You gave her your sweater It's just polyester But you like her better

After Angelina’s odd behavior in the library, Y/N had decided it was time to start hanging out with her friends again. Not only was she hoping to avoid another weird conversation, she truly had missed them. And her timing seemed perfect, as the second task was quickly approaching, and Harry needed all the help he could get.

Helping Harry is a nice distraction, but she can’t help but let her eyes wander in Fred’s direction every once in a while. She still feels so strongly for him, and Y/N doubts that is going to change anytime soon. Especially since it seems Fred and George are always hovering by them. As Y/N and the rest pour over books in the common room they’re always only a few seats away, and Y/N is sure she catches a glimpse of their red hair in the library a few times as her and Harry study the titles to find more books to bring to Ron and Hermione.

Y/N is so exhausted from helping Harry, that she doesn’t notice that neither Ron or Hermione are with them on the day of the second task until her and Harry are heading towards the black lake. Part of her is worried for her friends, the other is filled with panic. She had planned on sitting with Ron and Hermione as far away from Fred, George and Angelina as possible.

When they finally reach the platform in the middle of the lake, Y/N wishes Harry good luck and starts to search the crowd, hoping to find a group of familiar faces to join. Before she even has the chance to try and join Neville, Dean and Seamus she feels someone grab her arm.

“Come sit with us,” George says, already guiding her up the stairs. Y/N doesn’t need a crystal ball to know that the ‘us’ he is referring to is Fred, Lee and Angelina. She follows behind him all the way up to the top platform, trying to think of how to sneak away. But of course, Fred and George had managed to get the best spots on the platform, so there’s no hope that she’ll be able to shrink away, not with all the people around.

“Look who I found!” George shouts as they reach the others, everyone turning to look at them. Y/N blushes as Fred smiles at her, her eyes dropping to the ground. She can feel Lee pat her on the shoulder, and she decides to stand in between him and George. Except when she finally takes her eyes off the ground and looks up, George is nowhere to be found, instead Fred is looking down at her.

Her cheeks heat up and she immediately looks out at the lake so that she doesn’t get lost in his eyes. Y/N had been trying to get over Fred, the last thing she needs is to fall even more in love with him. At least you’ll have the task to focus on she thinks wistfully, letting herself glance at Fred, butterflies erupting in her stomach when she notices that he’s still looking at her.

“So, who do you think is gonna win? It’s gotta be Harry, right? I mean you’ve been spending so much time with him, he’s gotta be the best prepared,” Fred says with a grin. But as Y/N allows herself to look at him closely she can tell that he’s tense.

Before she can stutter out a reply Dumbledore is announcing the rules of the task and Filch is setting off the cannon, officially starting the task. Everyone starts to cheer as the champions dive into the water, but after they’ve all disappeared under the water they start to die down. The water is pitch black, and they all seem to disappear into the lake’s depths within a few seconds.

“I guess we’re just supposed to stand here and wait? I guess?” Angelina says from Fred’s other side. Y/N frowns at her proximity to Fred and focuses her attention back on the lake.

“You alright?” Fred asks, leaning down to whisper in Y/N’s ear.

Goosebumps pop up on her skin where his breath touches and her face turns crimson red. She just nods, not entirely trusting her voice. She can feel Fred’s eyes on her, and it takes everything in her power not to return his gaze. Y/N knows that if she were to look at him now she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from lunging forward and kissing him in front of the entire school, his girlfriend included.

Luckily Lee says something that grabs Fred’s attention and she can take a deep breath.

By the time Cedric reappears from the water with Cho Chang by his side, Y/N is absolutely freezing. They’re 45 minutes into the task, and so far only Fleur and Cedric have come back. While their spot has the best view, it’s so high in the air that the wind is bitter, and Y/N is shivering despite the fact that she’s wearing her heaviest jacket.

Luckily Krum reappears with Hermione next to him only a few minutes later, and the energy in the crowd ramps up. Everyone is cheering loudly again, and Y/N is too busy watching for Harry to notice how close Fred is to her.

Harry manages to appear from the water a few minutes after the time has run out, both Ron and a little blonde girl, who Y/N guesses is Fleur’s sister, by his side. The cheers only increase in volume as Dumbledore announces that Harry will get second place on account of his bravery.

Y/N feels as if she is on cloud nine. Not only had she just spent the last hour standing so close to Fred that their arms brushed against each other, but Harry had managed to do excellent in the task. Unfortunately, all that euphoria disappears as they start to head back down to the boats.

“Boy am I glad that’s over. It’s absolutely freezing out here. Good thing I had your sweater to keep me warm, Freddie,” Angelina says, her voice dripping with sweetness.

Y/N can feel her knees quiver as she glances at Angelina and the big fat letter F in the middle of the jumper she’s wearing. Tears start to form in the corners of her eyes, and she starts shoving through the crowd, trying to get as far away from Fred as possible.

The one thing she had held on to through all of this was Fred’s sweater. Y/N slept with it in her arms every night, it made her feel special. Fred may have chosen Angelina, but he had given her his sweater. It was her only glimmer of hope that someday something may happen between her and the boy who held her heart. But now, it meant nothing.

Y/N can hear Fred calling her name as she runs away, but she continues to push forward through the crowd. She’s making her way down the second set of stairs when she feels a hand wrap around her wrist.

“Y/N wait. Look at me,” Fred begs, tugging her close to him. Y/N turns around to look at Fred, who is standing on the stair above her, a desperate look on his face. Tears have started to stream down her face, and she bats away Fred’s hand when he tries to wipe them away. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, please.” His grip on her wrist tightens.

“You gave her your sweater,” she practically shouts at him, her voice full of misery. Y/N is sure that everyone around them is staring, but she can’t seem to care. She’s been in pain for weeks and it’s all coming out now.

Fred’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “It’s just a sweater.”

Y/N sniffles, as more tears start to stream down her face. Just a sweater.

“So that’s all it was when you gave me your sweater? That day in the common room? Just a sweater,” she mocks. Fred opens his mouth to respond, but Y/N cuts him off. “You said it looked better on me. I thought you were flirting with me. I thought you liked me.”

Y/N feels like she’s going to pass out, Fred is standing there in front of her not saying anything. She starts to wipe the tears away as Angelina, George and Lee start to come down the stairs behind them.

“It clearly doesn’t matter what I think. Or what I want. You like her better,” she whimpers, gesturing towards Angelina. Before Fred even has a chance to react she’s running away again, down the stairs and back towards the boats. She takes a seat next to Neville in one of the boats and tucks her knees into her chest, trying to ignore everyone’s stares as Fred calls out her name.

Wish I were Heather

“I figured I would find you here,” Fred says softly from behind her.

Y/N bites her lip, quickly trying to wipe away her tears. After the absolute fiasco that had gone down between her and Fred all she wanted was to be alone. So instead of heading to the common room she wandered up to the astronomy tower. She’s not sure how long she’s been out here, but her hands are nearly numb from the cold and the sun has started to set.

When she doesn’t say anything, Fred comes up behind her and drapes a blanket over her shoulders before standing next to her. He leans his back up against the railing so he can look down at her face.

“Talk to me, please,” he begs.

His voice sends shivers down Y/N’s spine and it’s taking all of her willpower not to inch closer to him. She doesn’t say anything but allows herself to look up at him. Her cheeks heat up when she realizes that he’s already staring at her and she stops herself from looking away. He looks worried and hurt, and as much as Y/N thinks he deserves it for hurting her, she can’t help but feel guilty.

Fred reaches a hand up to cup her cheek and she melts into his touch. Her stomach is in knots and she feels lightheaded. As much as she hates to admit it, Fred Weasley still owns her whole heart. Even if his belongs to another girl.

When Y/N doesn’t pull away he starts to slowly stroke her cheek. “What are you thinking about?”

“Honestly?” she responds, wincing when her voice cracks. When Fred nods she continues. “I’m thinking about how much I wish I was Angelina.” When Fred doesn’t say anything, she continues. “I’m thinking about how much I wish you would look at me like you do her. I’m thinking about how much I wish you would have asked me to the Yule Ball. I’m thinking about how it would have felt as you twirled me in your arms. I’m thinking how it would have felt to kiss you. I’m thinking about how it would feel to be loved by you.”

Y/N hadn’t noticed that she was crying again until Fred’s thumb quickly wiped away her tears. She’s in disbelief that she just said all of those things to Fred. Her chest feels lighter now that she isn’t harboring such a huge secret, but a pit of despair has started to form in her stomach.

“Why are you thinking all of those things,” Fred asks, looking deep into Y/N’s eyes.

Y/N sighs in exasperation. She takes a deep breath, trying to find the courage to admit the things she’s felt for as long as she can remember. “I’m thinking all of those things because I’m in love with you, Fred Weasley. Even if you aren’t in love with me.”

Fred doesn’t respond. Instead he closes the gap between them and presses their lips together in a heated kiss. Y/N is frozen in place as her eyes flutter shut. Fred Weasley is kissing me. Oh my god Fred Weasley is kissing me, is the only thought running through her head. And as much as she wants to kiss him back, she can’t.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Y/N whispers, pulling away from Fred’s mouth, her eyes still shut. She desperately wants to look at him, but she can’t. “You have a girlfriend, Fred. And no matter what I feel for you, Angelina is a nice girl and I can’t do that to her. And you shouldn’t do that to her either.”

Fred chuckles as the hand he isn’t using to cup Y/N’s cheek comes up to grip her waist. She finally looks at him, confusion all over her face.

“Angelina Johnson isn’t my girlfriend,” he says casually, as if that is a sufficient enough explanation for everything that’s happened over the past few months. He leans forward to connect their lips again, but Y/N pushes his chest back slightly.

“I’m going to need more than that, Fred. Because I’ve spent the last three months dying inside as I watched you fall in love with her. So, you can’t just come up here and kiss me like none of that ever happened,” she explains, her words tinted with anger. Despite the anger that’s bubbling in her stomach, she can’t help but lean into his embrace.

“You looked so beautiful, that day in the common room,” he starts, a pink blush appearing on his cheeks. “You were sitting there, all alone wrapped up in your blanket. The fire was reflecting off of your face, it looked like you were glowing.” Fred pauses so he can tuck a piece of hair behind Y/N’s ear.

“I was only supposed to run up to our dorm to grab something George and I needed for our prank on Filch,” he continues a moment later, his eyes staring deeply into Y/N’s. “But I couldn’t help myself. That was the first time you had been alone all school year and I needed to be close to you. It was so hard not to pull you into my chest and comfort you when you said you were sick. That’s why I gave you my sweater. So, I could be close to you without being close to you. If that makes sense.”

Y/N chuckles and she can feel how red her cheeks are from Fred’s words alone. She’s sure that if she opens her mouth to speak the swarm of butterflies in her stomach will fly out, so she places the hand that had been on Fred’s chest on his neck, letting her fingers tangle in his long hair. She tugs the strands lightly encouraging him to continue with his story.

“And I noticed, how you stared at me when I took it off. I honestly thought you were going to start drooling,” Fred teases with a chuckle as Y/N’s blush deepens even further. “And then when I got closer to you to put the sweater on for you I thought that you were going to kiss me and so when you looked away I thought it was all just in my head.”

Y/N frowns as she mentally curses herself out. I should have just kissed him. Would have saved so much god damn time.

Fred leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead before he continues. “But the way you looked at me, when I was talking about the stink bomb I knew you felt something for me. I just needed to figure out a way to get you to admit it. That’s why I let you keep the sweater too. I was hoping I could catch you wearing it again. Partially because it would have been helpful in getting you to admit you liked me, but mostly because it doeslook better on you. You look beautiful in everything you wear but seeing you in my sweater,” Fred pauses as he lets out a groan, his grip on Y/N’s waist tightening.

“How does Angelina fit into all of this, then? Because when I saw you look at her a few hours later, I could have sworn that you were in love with her,” Y/N says, her voice shaking. She’s still confused, and doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but everything that Fred is saying is making her heart swoon.

“Well after George and I set off a firework show in Filch’s office we were running away and quite literally ran into Angelina and Alicia who were coming back from Hogsmeade. I know Angelina has had a crush on George since like, first year, so we devised a plan that was beneficial to the both of us. George would finally stop being thick and notice Angelina and you would admit your feelings for me.”

Y/N’s eyes widen, and she raises her hand to smack him in the chest, but he manages to grab it in time. Fred interlaces their fingers and brings her hand up to his mouth, peppering it with soft kisses. “Let me finish explaining, please. You can be mad at me all you want after but just let me get it all out.” He continues to pepper her hand with soft kisses until he can feel Y/N relax in his embrace. He brings their hands down to their sides but keeps them interlaced.

“In the Great Hall that night Angelina and Alicia waited in the corridor until they saw you come in and sit down. I kept making George and Lee laugh, I knew that would get you to look over at us, I’d seen you do it before.” Fred rubs her cheek with his thumb as her blush comes back, Y/N often looked over at Fred during meals but had thought she was sneaky enough to get away with it.

“When she walked by I was staring at her but I was thinking about you. I was thinking about your laugh, and the way you scrunch your nose when you’re annoyed. I was thinking about the little wrinkle you get in between your eyebrows when you get frustrated at your coursework. I was thinking about your smile and how beautiful you looked when I caught you dancing with Ginny and Hermione in your pajamas last summer.”

Y/N groans at the memory, causing Fred to laugh. Hermione had brought a muggle radio with her to the burrow, and they were up late one night, just goofing off and dancing around Ginny’s room together. They had accidentally left the door cracked, and Fred and George had burst into Ginny’s room to see what all the noise was. Y/N had been wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of shorts that were two sizes too small and her cheeks had burned bright red as Fred had looked her up and down.

“I can’t believe you remember that. I was so embarrassed. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole,” she grumbles, the anger she had just felt completely washing away. Y/N lets herself fall into Fred’s chest, her arms wrapping around his middle and her face pressing into his neck. Fred laughs and finally let’s go of her hand so he can wrap one arm around her waist fully, his other reaching up to stroke her hair.

“Of course, I remember that. That’s the moment I fell in love with you. You looked so carefree, dancing around with your friends, with my little sister. It was like you belonged there,” Fred whispers the last part, pressing a kiss to the top of Y/N’s head. It was no secret that the Weasley boys all had soft spots for their younger sister and seeing Y/N get along so well with Ginny made Fred fall even harder for her.

“You are such a sap Fred Weasley,” Y/N teases lightly. Her heart feels like it might beat out of her chest. “Go on then, continue telling me about your master grand plan or whatever.”

Fred chuckles. “When George, Lee and I got back to the common room that night I figured you’d be there waiting to talk to me or something. But you weren’t. And when I saw you at Breakfast the next day you didn’t even look at me. I could tell George was falling into our trap, but you had gotten so distant I wasn’t sure what was going on in your head.”

Y/N can feel herself getting angry again, but she takes a deep breath, letting Fred’s scent calm her down. She had promised to hear Fred out before she got angry at him and she plans to keep that promise.

“I hadn’t planned on asking Angelina to the Yule Ball, but when George didn’t ask her she told me to. She said it was a surefire way for us to get what we both wanted.  And so, I did. I did it while you were there, thinking that maybe you’d stand up and tell Angelina to fuck off or something. But you got all quiet and stormed off instead.” Fred pauses, squeezing Y/N tighter against his chest.

“I wanted to follow you so badly,” he continues a moment later, and Y/N can hear the regret in his voice. “But I had made a promise to Angelina. I figured you would go alone, and that the mess I had gotten in would fix itself at the dance. And then Ron told us that you were going with Harry. You looked so beautiful, Y/N. I was so jealous of Harry, that he got to touch you,” Fred stops himself, jealousy building up in his throat just from the thought of Y/N being with someone else.

He presses his face to the top of her head, taking a deep breath. Sensing his tension, Y/N presses a kiss to his neck. “And then I saw you standing with George and I nearly lost my mind, that’s why Angelina and I left. You were being so, playful with him like you usually were with me. I thought maybe instead of pushing you to admit how you feel for me I had pushed you into the arms of someone else.”

“is that why Angelina came up to me in the library? She was trying to sus out what I was feeling?” She asks, so many things finally making sense.

Fred hums, and Y/N shivers as the rumble vibrates through her whole body. Fred squeezes her tighter. “George had somehow figured out what we were up to and decided to turn the table. The next day at breakfast all he could talk about was you, and how much fun he had with you after we left. I figured he was just trying to get a reaction out of me, but the thought of you wanting someone else hurt so much. So, I sent Angelina off to do some recon.”

“Then why continue playing your stupid little game? I told Angelina that I wasn’t into George,” Y/N questions, pulling her head away from Fred’s warmth so she can look him in the eyes. He returns her gaze, and it still causes her to blush, despite the fact that she’s been cuddled into him for at least 20 minutes. The sun has nearly set, and the golden rays reflecting off of Fred’s hair make him look like an Angel. She allows her gaze to drop to his lips for a moment, wishing that they were on hers once again.

“Yes, but you told her that you liked someone else, more than a friend,” Fred reminds her, a smirk forming on his lips. “And then you started hanging out with your friends again and you were spending so much time with Harry.”

“You thought I liked Harry?” Y/N asks in surprise, cutting Fred off. When he nods she laughs, unable to stop herself. “I don’t mean to laugh at you love. Well actually I do but, I can’t believe that you thought I was into Harry.”

Fred frowns at her, the hand that had been stroking her hair coming to cup her cheek once again. “And why wouldn’t you fancy Harry? He’s a top-class bloke I’ll have you know,” Fred teases with a chuckle. “And I was feeling insecure,” he admits sheepishly.

Y/N instantly feels bad for laughing and presses a kiss to Fred’s cheek as a way of apologizing. Fred and the word insecure have never once crossed her mind at the same time. Fred was always the life of the party, confident in himself and his actions. He liked being the center of attention and was always trying to get more eyes on him.

Knowing that he’s standing here with her barring his soul to her fills Y/N with warmth. Fred Weasley never let anyone see this side of him and yet here he is, laying it all out for her. While Fred’s actions may have been questionable to her, they came from such a place of pure sincerity that she can’t be mad at him. If anything, it makes her love him more, if that’s even possible.

“So, what was your plan today, hm? How was Angelina wearing your sweater going to push us together?”

“I’m getting there, don’t you worry,” Fred teases. “Actually, I’ll have you know that today’s plan was all George’s idea, so if my actions today lead you to never want to talk to me again just know that it’s George you should be mad at, not me.”

Y/N rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anything. She presses her face back into Fred’s neck, encouraging him to continue.

“By this point George had been fully briefed on the situation, since he finally got the nerve to just ask Angelina out. Took him long enough if you ask me.” Fred pauses when Y/N laughs into his neck. “Hey, I don’t want to hear it from you. I was in far too deep to just ask you out, alright?” Y/N squeezes Fred’s middle, causing him to smile. “Anyway, he knew about the whole sweater thing. So, he suggested that Angelina wear the sweater mum sent for me this Christmas. Thinking it would send you into a jealous rage.”

“That was obviously a mistake,” Fred admits sheepishly. “But anyway. George waited by the boats for you to arrive with Harry, so he could make sure that you came and stood with us. When you didn’t notice the sweater right away I figured the plan was over. But then Angelina managed to sneak in a mention and well this is where I definitely need to apologize to you.”

“I thought I was special,” Y/N murmurs into Fred’s neck. “I knew, or at least thought I knew, that you were in love with Angelina. But I was the one you gave your sweater too. I was the one that got to cuddle it close every night. It gave me one sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe someday you’d be laying in bed cuddling me instead.”

When Fred doesn’t say anything, Y/N continues. “But then she was wearing your sweater and I wanted to throw up. My last shred of hope that you would ever love me was destroyed, and I just needed to get away from you.” Her voice cracks as a fresh set of tears flow down her face. Y/N pulls away from Fred so she can look him in the eyes and more tears cascade down her face when she sees the pain in his.

“I am so sorry, Y/N.” Fred lets go of her so his hands can come up and brush away her tears. “When you were standing there on the stairs you looked so broken and knowing I made you feel like that. I couldn’t say anything, I couldn’t find the right words. And then you were gone, and I wanted to fling myself into the lake.”

Fred’s arms wrap around her waist again and Y/N lets herself cuddle close to him. Her own arms wrap around his neck and she starts to play with his hair. They just stand there, looking at each other for a few moments, both of them unsure what to say next.

“Say something, please,” Fred begs when the silence gets to be too much. “Anything. Even if you tell me to fuck off and never talk to you again. Just, say something.”

Y/N smiles up at him. “Kiss me.”

“Come again?” Fred asks, afraid that his ears are playing tricks on him.

“Kiss me,” Y/N breathes, her face slowly inching closer to Fred’s.

Fred doesn’t need to hear it again. The second the words have left Y/N’s mouth he’s closing the gap between them and their lips meet in a heated kiss. Except this time Y/N isn’t frozen in place. She moves her mouth in time with his and presses herself closer to Fred, needing to feel his body against hers.

Y/N’s knees quiver as he deepens their kiss and her whole body feels like it’s on fire. This is everything she has ever wanted, and she almost can’t believe it’s actually happening.

“I love you,” Fred says softly when their kiss breaks, both of them needing to catch their breath. “I love you so much and I am such an idiot and I am so sorry for hurting you.” Fred cups her cheeks so that he can gaze into Y/N’s eyes. Both of their cheeks are flushed, and Y/N doesn’t think she could look away from the loving look Fred is giving her even if she wanted to. “I don’t deserve your love and I’ll do anything it takes for you to be mine. I’ll apologize to you every day for the rest of forever if I have to.”

Y/N presses their foreheads together as she kisses Fred briefly. “Every day? For the rest of forever? That’s a pretty long time,” she teases with a laugh.

Fred chuckles, kissing her softly. “Now that I’ve got you I’m never letting you go.”

They stand there together in silence for a few moments, basking in the warmth their love has created around them. They’re both smiling at each other, and Y/N is sure that she’d float away if Fred wasn’t holding her so tightly.

“Can you just promise me one thing?” Y/N asks quietly, twirling a piece of Fred’s hair around her finger.

“Anything, my love.” Fred squeezes her even tighter, his lips brushing against hers.

“Promise me that I’ll be the only girl you ever give another one of your sweaters too,” Y/N says quietly, trying to seem playful. But Fred can sense the hint of seriousness behind her words.

“I promise, every day for the rest of forever,” he chuckles.

Y/N kisses him hard, trying to convey every ounce of love she has for Fred through this one kiss. Every day for the rest of forever may seem like a long time, but after spending so long without Fred, it doesn’t seem like enough.

[nothoughtsonlynat]

Resurrect Me (N.R.)

Warnings: swearing; death; Hell/the Underworld; cliff jumping lol

Word Count≈ 3.1k (yikes lol my bad)

Hecate一 the goddess of magic, witchcraft, the night, the moon, ghosts, and necromancy. Known to be an intricate mosaic of good and evil, destruction and beauty. Capable of granting wishes, summoning the dead, resurrections, teleportation, warping realities on unfathomable scales, mind control, energy manipulation, and any sorcery or magic known to the Gods. Second only to Zeus himself.

I am the human embodiment of Hecate. I am not Hecate; she merely resides in the depths of my soul and provides me guidance. We do not communicate through words; she speaks through dreams and gut feelings, and sometimes even through signs in the outside world. I have not mastered the powers she’s granted me, nor have I reached my full potential. In addition to the Goddess’ powers, I hold the basic Olympian powers, such as superhuman speed and stamina. I have no recollection of how I merged with Hecate or the life I lived before this point, and she has provided me with no answers, but I do not question her motives. 

Agent Phil Coulson came across me in my temple in Turkey. Apparently, he had discovered strange energy readings coming from the temple. When he arrived, I used the power of energy manipulation to blow the concrete off of me, and that is the first thing I remember一 emerging from underneath Hecate’s temple.

I joined the Avengers during the Battle of New York. Agent Coulson had recommended me to Fury when he was piecing together the Avengers Initiative. In the three years between my awakening and the invasion, I practiced my sorcery mercilessly and studied Hecate deep in the Greek countryside. I’ve stuck with the Avengers throughout the years, fighting every battle alongside them. Through the ups and downs, I’ve fallen head over heels for Natasha Romanoff. One would assume that with so much power, I’d be confident and have any mortal begging at my feet. That couldn’t be any more inaccurate, however. As I’ve said, I am not Hecate; I am simply the human embodiment of the goddess. And as a human, I turn into a blushing, stuttering mess whenever the levelheaded assassin is near. Consequently, there have been many years of pining, but I’ve yet to muster up the courage to ask the woman on a date.

In our most recent war, we’ve gone up against a mad titan一 Thanos. We lost terribly. Half of all living things inhabiting the universe were snapped away. I can’t help but ponder whether things would’ve gone differently if I had better mastered my powers. I potentially hold all the capabilities of the goddess of magic; aside from Zeus, I hold more power than any being to ever exist. I’ve practiced my sorcery every day for the past five years on the off chance that we ever get a rematch一 a chance to bring everyone back. I’ve improved significantly, but Hecate has been oddly quiet for the past few years. It’s driving me crazy. I know she’s still there, but she hardly provides an ounce of guidance.

And so, that is where I find myself now一 practicing sorcery in the room specifically designed to isolate me when I use dark magic. Everyone who has access to the training section of the compound knows that they should never enter this room. It is far too dangerous for regular mortals. As I warp the room’s reality, a dark mist envelops me. When it clears, the room has changed into a 50s ballroom. I look down to see an elegant maroon ball gown covering my body, and I scan the empty area. I hear a pair of heels clicking toward me, and I spin around, already panicking. In order for someone to be here with me, they would have to be an inhabitant of the location’s true reality. My eyes land upon the woman I’ve grown to love, dressed up for the event. She is wearing an extravagant light blue ball gown, and her hair is carefully done up. 

“Natasha? What are you doing here?”

“Why I came to dance with you, of course.” She steps closer and drapes her arms around my neck, swaying to the nonexistent music. Stay calm. Don’t panic. There’s no way I’m making her do this. I’m not even doing anything! Of course I’m the one making her do this, who else would it be?! Breathe in. Breathe out. My powers don’t control me. I control them. Just breathe. I can do this. I know how to do this.

As I focus on the magic coursing through my veins, a black mist envelops us, and the room returns to its original form一 a basic training room with black padded walls. I immediately take a large step back from Natasha.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Natasha?! You know you can’t come in here! I could’ve seriously hurt you!”

“I...I’m sorry. I thought you’d just be moving shit with your mind. I didn’t realize you could do...that, whatever that was.”

“That was reality manipulation. I didn’t know you were here and I don’t have full control of it, so you got caught up in it. Are you okay? Do you remember it?”

“Yeah, I remember it clear as day. I was still me and I was still in control, it was just...different, I guess.”

“Well, I literally warped your reality, so even if you felt in control, you might not have been.”

“You stopped it, though. I remember when that seemed impossible. You’re getting better.”

“Thanks, I guess.” I awkwardly scratch the back of my neck. “What did you come in here for in the first place?”

“This is gonna sound crazy, but Scott Lang is here. We might have a way to bring everybody back.”

“Wait, what? Holy shit. It’s happening. Okay, come on then!” I eagerly walk past her, grabbing her hand as I pass her, and we leave my training room. I realize that I’m still holding her hand as we make it to the meeting room, and I immediately drop it, clearing my throat. If I wasn’t so familiar with the sensation, then I would swear that my ears and cheeks are on fire.

<//>

We all step onto the platform in matching white and red time-travel suits. “We’re really doing this?”

“Hell yeah, we’re doing this,” Clint answers.

“Alright, then. We bring everybody back,” I say with determination. “Whatever it takes,” Steve adds.

“See you in a minute,” Natasha adds with a smirk. Before I can appreciate how beautiful she looks with the glimmer of hope in her eyes, we’re flying through a flurry of colors. Nebula, Natasha, Rhodey, Clint, and I land on Morag. We all say our respective goodbyes before Nat, Clint, and I get on a jet to head to Vormir.

<//>

“A soul for a soul.”

“What? That’s insane. Look, no offense, Mr. Bloody Tampon, but why should we just trust what you’re saying? Because you know their fathers’ names?”

“I didn’t.” I looked into Natasha’s eyes as she spoke and I instantly wish that I could replace the dull sadness with the bright hope that had filled them before.

“He doesn’t know my father’s name. If he’s some mystical being, then why can’t he tell me that?” I turned to face him as I asked the question.

“I’m afraid you are a mystery. I am meant to know everything about any being who seeks the stone, but I know nothing of your identity.”

“Hm. Seems like a load of bullshit to me,” I deadpanned.

“We need to do this. We need to bring everyone back. I’ve spent the past five years trying to reverse the snap, and now I finally know how to fix it. Let me do it.” As Natasha spoke, she grabbed both of my hands in hers.

“And I’ve spent every day for the past five years training to do this. I wasn’t just practicing sorcery and talking to dead people for fun, Nat. All I wanted was to do better一 to fix this. If anyone is jumping off that cliff, it’s gonna be me.”

“No. Absolutely not. Neither of you is dying for that stone. I’ve done horrible things these past few years. I’ve killed...so many people. It should be me,” Clint says, and Natasha and I turn to face him, but one of her hands remains in mine.

“No way in hell, Clint. And not you either, Nat. Both of you guys have families. You’re not sacrificing yourselves. I won’t let you. And you can’t stop me even if you try.” Nat gives me a questioning look as I mention her family and I speak in her head ‘I know about them, Nat. And they need you. She needs her big sister.’

“What are you saying?” I can hear the anxiety lacing Nat’s words, and it causes a pit to form in my stomach.

“I think you know what I’m saying, Natty.” 

“Then you don’t leave me much of a choice.” She shoots a Widow’s Bite toward me, but I stop it using energy manipulation without even having to lift a finger.

“You can’t beat me, Nat. Please, don’t fight me on this.”

“I call bullshit.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Clint running toward the edge while we’re distracted, and I teleport in front of him, throwing him backward. I use mind control to force him to stay down. I sense Natasha running toward the edge behind me, and I teleport in front of her. I use energy manipulation to keep her in place, and I grab onto her biceps.

“I’m really sorry, Nat. I hate that I’m doing this to you, but I can’t let you throw yourself off a cliff for some stupid stone. Your life is worth so much more than that. You’re an amazing person, and your ledger was cleared of its red so long ago. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

“This is sounding an awful lot like a goodbye.”

“You can be sarcastic all you want, but I’m not walking out of this one, Natty.”

“Don’t do this. The team needs you.”

“No, they don’t, Nat, and we both know it. They need you.”

“And what if I need you?!”

“Well if that’s the case, you’ll figure it out, just like you always do. Don’t let something like this hold you back. Goodbye, Natasha Romanoff.” I kiss her cheek before turning around. I start walking towards the edge, but it quickly turns into a sprinting pace as I hear Nat screaming for me to stop. Just before I reach the edge, I lift the mind control from Clint and I release Nat, just in case it doesn’t automatically lift when I die. I push myself off the cliff, turning mid-jump so I’m not facing the ground. As I’m falling through the air, I see Clint holding Nat in his arms as her screams fill my ears. I hit the ground and everything goes black.

<//>

“Hello, y/n. It’s good to see you again.” I sat up and一 what the hell is that smell? “Ah, yes. That would be burning flesh. Welcome to Hell, darling.”

“Uh...what? Who are you?”

“Yes, I suppose I should explain, hm? I am Hecate, Goddess of一”

“Yeah, I know what you’re the goddess of. How did I get here?”

“I thought you were smarter than this. You died, obviously.”

“And went to Hell? Damn.”

“Oh, relax. Hell isn’t what the mortals think it is. This is the Underworld. All of the dead reside here. The bad people get punished, the good people don’t. Simple as that. We don’t have a lot of time, so I need to explain. I am cursed; I cannot leave the Underworld. However, my human embodiment can, and that is where you come into play. You hold all my power, and I can see you’ve been practicing, but you’ve never lived up to your full potential.”

“Hey! Rude!”

“Don’t interrupt. I didn’t allow you to live up to your full potential, not until we met, anyway.”

“And I had to die in order for that to happen?”

“Yes. I’m giving you all of my power, but I can still stop you if I ever need to. I know you don’t want to risk hurting the people you love, especially the redhead, but you need to trust yourself. Trust your powers. Have a little faith. You are a goddess, remember. Don’t let people forget it. That purple thumb is nothing compared to you, even with his colorful rocks. Your family needs you now. You must help them.”

“That’s it? Why do they need help? How will I know what to do?”

“I will always be there to help you, Y/N. You can handle this. This is nothing. You are part of me, just as I am part of you. You are my daughter, after all. I should know your capabilities better than anyone.”

“Wait, daughter?!”

“Oh, did I forget to mention that part? Oh well, it doesn’t matter right now, anyway. You need to go.”

“Go where?”

“Home, darling.” 

The earth above us cracks open and I can hear faint sounds of fighting on the surface. I look at Hecate as she nods. Before I even realize I’m doing it, black mist surrounds my body and lifts me through the crack. I step out of the mist onto the ground and a staff appears in my right hand. I tap it once on the ground and my white suit is replaced by an all-black leather outfit that’s definitely made for a goddess. I smirk and make eye contact with the titan across the battlefield. His sickly creatures race toward me as they notice the new threat on the field. I summon an army of ghouls from the cracks in the earth. As the aliens and the undead clash, I teleport in front of Thanos.

“And who might you be, dear?” He acts confident, but I can sense his fear.

“I am Y/N, daughter of Hecate.” He tilts his head in a questioning manner. “Oh, did someone not study mythology? Hm, then let’s be blunt, shall we? I’m a goddess, ass-chin.” I throw my staff at his throat, but he catches it. He moves to swing his large sword at me, but I capture his arm in black mist. When he tries to move the other arm, I restrain that one, as well. “Well, that surely can’t be all you’ve got, hm? Pity, I thought it’d be more exciting than that.” If I were to look in a mirror at that moment, I would’ve noticed my ghostly pale skin, black eyes, and the raw power spreading through my veins like a black road-map.

“It’s not over yet, my dear child.” Before I can question the meaning of his words, an alien tosses him the gauntlet. It slides on his exposed hand, but I hold it open with dark magic. I look around and notice that the army of the undead is nowhere to be seen. My teammates are pinned down, even with the help of those who were snapped. There is a feeling in my gut and a voice in my head that tells me what I must do. I pull the gauntlet off his hand with black mist and slide my hand inside. I feel the power surging into my body. “What are you doing? That power will kill you!” Thanos sounds truly desperate.

“That’s cute. Truly, it is, but you can’t kill someone who’s already dead.” I close my hand and snap my fingers. His army fades to dust and he slumps to the ground before floating away with them. I drop the gauntlet to the ground and look around. Natasha runs toward me and throws her arms around my neck in a firm hug.

“Wha一what happened to you? How are you here? I thought you died!”

I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder before saying, “I did die. I am dead.”

She pulls away and looks at me from head to toe. “Well that explains why you’re so damn pale, but now I have so many more questions.”

“I am Hecate’s daughter, so I am technically a goddess, like her. I’m not sure if I was technically resurrected or not, but I can probably一”

She cut me off with a gentle yet passionate kiss. She pulls away and searches my eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” she admits.

“Me too,” I breathe out.

“Yeah, I picked up on that. You’re not very discrete.” I laughed and a smirk spread across her face. “As sexy as this whole ‘powerful goddess’ thing is, am I going to get the old you back? You know, the one who blushes whenever I look at her? The one who’s, like, alive?”

I smile at her and glance down at her lips as a thick black mist appears behind me. I step backward into it as her face morphs into a look of confusion. She disappears from sight as a wall of black fills my vision, and a surge of power spreads throughout my body. I fall to my knees and the black cloud disappears. Natasha rushes over and kneels in front of me. “Are you okay? What the hell was that?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but I think I’m alive again.” I lift my head and meet her eyes.

“Your skin isn’t crazy pale anymore, and your eyes are their normal color again.”

“Sweet.”

“Cool.”

We both crack up and I lean my forehead against hers as our laughter fades.

Tony interrupts our moment of peace. “This is all good and dandy, but does someone wanna explain what the hell just happened?”

I raise my head and look at my teammates一 my family. “I kicked the purple thumb’s ass. That’s what happened.” I can feel a warm presence in my heart, and I know that my mother is with me.

“Yes, yes, I noticed. I also noticed a bunch of demons. Care to explain that one?”

“They weren’t demons...they were just...the souls...of dead people. I can summon the dead. You knew that.”

“Uh, I definitely didn’t know that.” I laugh and shake my head at the eccentric man. 

I stand up, pulling Natasha with me, and bring her into another embrace. “I’m really glad you’re okay, Natty,” I whisper in her ear before pressing a delicate kiss to her temple.

A/N: I literally had this completely finished and edited over a month ago and I hadn’t posted it yet soooooo... idk here it is

[eureka-its-zico]

Irrevocably Yours

Request: hey! can i request a scenario of jungkook being a rich kid who has ome of his legs is leg failure , basically can't walk without a cane , And he falls in love with a normal girl , and they end up running away , happy ending plz , also if u can , LIT IT Up with smut ' thank u ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

A/N: So. This request was sent to me a long ass time ago. I mean a LONG time ago, and I spent so much time working on it...it became too long. So I broke it up in half. Just to see if anyone actually becomes interested in how this ends. Just to see if anyone still reads anything I write. So if you end up enjoying this, please let me know and I’ll post the last of this. I have so many things buried inside my google docs that need to be set free from hibernation. 

Also, I’m sorry if this isn’t any good. I’ve rewritten this a thousand times trying to fix it, and I’ve done all I can for now. I hope someone out there enjoyed this craziness. And to the original person who asked for this, if you ever see this, I’m sorry it took so long. P.s. I also took creative liberties and changed it up a little. Much love, Jenn

Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 13,756 (yeah I know, it was longer before I halved it. Sorry!)

Genre: fluffy/Smutty(later)/First Love drama sorts mess

A part of you would always remember the first day you’d met Jeon Jungkook. His presence standing in the doorway to the classroom held every single one of your classmate's attention along with yours. Jungkook silently demanded to be noticed, even though in a way he wanted no one to notice him at all. The classroom felt louder than usual, or maybe that was just how you recalled it. Maybe it's what caused the ringing in your ears when the room was swallowed up in silence. The sound of his cane hitting the stained linoleum; ticking like a time bomb with every step. 

At first you couldn't see why he necessarily needed it. Jungkook was a master of hiding things. Even pain. It wasn’t until he’d reached the teachers desk, his hip moving to rest against it to ease the extra strain off his good leg, that the stories of his accident became true.  Not one of you were willing to look too long at the challenge in his face. Defiance turning his soft features bitter as he glanced out across the room. Jungkook wanted to appear strong; to dare anyone to mutter even a word that he wasn’t. That he wasn’t the same person he was before the accident. 

He must have been able to fool your home room teacher into forgetting. His eagerness to introduce Jungkook only caused him to accidentally come too close to his legs in passing. The teachers’ waist moved and harmlessly bump against Jungkook’s bad leg. A small movement that was enough to change Jungkook’s entire demeanor for just a second. 

The whole room collectively took a breath; waiting for him to scream out in pain. To turn savage and yell or curse at the stupidity of the teacher. Jungkook did none of it. He continued to look out into the room with his chin held high. 

You could see, however, through the crinkle by his eyes and how heavily he now leaned on his cane that it’s caused him a great deal of pain. A brief moment in showing what he tried to hide and if you weren’t staring so hard at him, you were sure you would’ve missed it.

An infamous legend among other schools as his face showed up on Sports articles that featured proud features of parents beaming excitedly at cameras. Taekwondo and track metal’s around his neck by the dozens. Grades to match the intensity of his athletic drive with a rumor that if he tried something for the first time, Jungkook would still be phenomenal at whatever it was. 

Even without ever actually meeting him - everyone in that classroom knew who he was. Jeon Jungkook was a hard man not to hear about. 

In the beginning of the year there’d been a different headline for him, however. He’d been the passenger in a friend's car that was struck by a drunk driver. The ferocity of the impact leaving the car looking like a bow. Jungkook lost a friend that night, and part of the mobility in his left leg. The driver himself died instantly and you weren't sure if that was justice enough for the two boys who’d lost so much in a matter of three seconds. 

And with so much, yet so little known about him you found yourself unable to join the others in measuring up the boy in front of you. 

Jungkook was taller than you thought he would be, or maybe you’d silently been hoping the universe wouldn’t be so cruel to give someone talent and every single attractive feature known to man. He’d been played up like he was a god among the rest of you feeble mortals. You figure’d girls were overacting, I mean it happens. Imagining after listening to all their swooning, you’d somehow shockingly find out he was nothing more than your average - ordinary - boy. 

Jungkook was anything but ordinary. 

His lean frame still retained years of training that wasn't so easily hidden, even under the layers of the school uniform. You could see the care he still placed on his outward appearance. The rising star who was still handsome, even underneath all his brooding. His school uniform strained against tight muscles in his arms and, worse, was his legs. Your cheeks heating into an embarrassed blush as his eyes landed on what seemed like your desk. It was silly to think he’d caught you gawking. Everyone was gawking at him, but even a millisecond of his gaze made your cheeks light up with embarrassment at the idea of being caught. 

There was gossip of him not wanting to go back to his old school; his old life. You didn't really blame him. Why be stuck in a place where there were millions of memories of a time you had with a close friend? Of having the ability to walk down the halls without everyone looking at you like you were damaged goods. 

“Everyone pay attention!” Mr. Choi shouted. 

It all seemed unnecessary. Your attention was already on him whether he wanted it or not. 

“I’d like to welcome our transfer student, Jeon Jungkook. I expect you all to be on your best behavior.”

“I don't need you to defend me,” he snapped. 

He started moving his way down the aisle towards the only empty seat in the room: the one next to you. 

You quickly turned away from him and started cleaning up your space. Jungkook got to the desk faster than you thought and dropped his backpack down on top of the desk. His long body slumped down into the seat, placing his cane next to the window seal. 

“We’re going to continue with our previous lecture from yesterday. You can share with Y/N until you get your own books.”

You flipped to chapter eighteen with your many notes scattered inside. Your eyes giving him a sidelong glance before sliding the book neatly between the desks. Jungkook didn't bother to look at the pages: his gaze was locked elsewhere. Somewhere outside the window with the freedom far beyond the gates of the school. 

The enter class you’d spun a hundred different sentences in your mind. Each one playing out in your head as pure idiotic or unnecessary. You just couldn’t shake the feeling that it felt wrong letting him sit there like no one cares. To be a part of the prying gazes of the class; to know his name and him not knowing yours in return. You weren't sure why you gave a shit so much, anyways, but you did. 

At the sound of the bell he was the first one to hop back onto his feet. His hand instinctively taking hold of the cane to keep him propped up as he moved to situate his backpack over his shoulders. You’d followed close behind him and gathered up your things. 

You didn't see him again until fifth period. His brooding presence in the back of the class hung like a dark cloud you couldn't shake. You knew you weren't necessarily the most cheerful person in the room, but even Jungkook’s sour puss attitude was making you want to throw glitter at him. 

He didn't acknowledge you when you came to your usual seat at the window, and it didn't bother you. No one usually acknowledged you anyways. What did bother you was that he was sitting in your window seat. Statistics was by far your least favorite subject this year, and the one thing that kept you sane was that window seat.

“That's my spot.”

Your voice didn't hold any hint of malice. It was just definitive: you wanted your seat. Jungkook didn't look at you straight away. His eyes still daydreaming through the window and the world beyond. When he did finally look at you, you were sure the annoyance in his face was meant to send you packing. Too bad for him you’d seen worse. 

“Is that look supposed to scare me? It doesn't change the fact you're in my spot.”

“I don't see your name on it.”

Your laughter turned to a scoff; cut short by your disbelief. 

“What are we in middle school? If you want to get technical, it was assigned by the teacher aka my name is theoretically on that seat. So -” 

You acted like he was a pet you could shoo off your bed. The hand motion earning you his brow to raise in return. 

“You’d really make a cripple get up?”

“Is that what we’re calling you? A cripple? Because it looks to me like you’re still capable of doing things, oh say, a paraplegic can't.”

The anger rolled through him suddenly like storm clouds. All the possibilities of playful mischief disappeared as he regarded you with so much hate, it was as if he’d struck you. 

“Oh, really? I didn't realize that they were giving away M.D titles in high schools now.”

Your mouth opened to - to what? Apologize? The sensitive part of you told you that you should. His accident hadn't been a full year yet, and here you were badgering him. Yet, you knew if you continuously babied him like everyone else it was only going to do more harm than good. Your next choice of words were cut short when your teacher walked in and asked why you were still standing. 

“He’s in my spot.”

God, now who sounded like they were in middle school? Your teacher seemed to draw a blank. His gaze moving from you to Jungkook then back to you. 

“Just sit down, Y/N.”

You did so with a huff. Your arms pulling your backpack you’d sat down on the desk closer to you like a pillow. Just so you could rest your chin on top of it and tried to ignore the smirk that was now on Jungkook’s face. 

After you’d gone to your next class you couldn't stop thinking about your exchange. It  turned your mood sour the rest of the day, and you couldn't understand why. A part of you wondering if it was because of your choice of words or the defeat that shown all too bright in his doe eyes. 

The end of the day couldn't have come fast enough. You just wanted to get home and out of your uniform and maybe get a chance to go take some photos before your parents got home. You were too preoccupied with thoughts of where you wanted to go, and what coffee shop you wanted to stop at, when you collided into the back of someone else. A loud curse followed suit of the sound of a cane dropping on pavement making your eyes shut tight and your throat constrict around a groan. 

“Jesus, can't you watch where you’re goi- oh, it's you. Enjoy attacking cripples, do we?”

You opened your eyes to see a less than amused smile on his face. He acted more like a judge at your hearing and whatever sentencing he was giving out, it wasn’t in your favor. 

“I’m sorry I wasn't paying attention.”

You moved to pick up his cane for him when his hand angrily swatted yours away making you jump back a step. 

“I don't need your charity. I can do it myself!”

“No one said you couldn’t! I was only trying to be nice.”

“Yeah, well, go and be nice somewhere else.”

He situated his weight on his good leg and bent at the knee low enough for his hand to reach out and grab his second form of support. The movement so graceful that it left you stunned, but not as much as his words did. 

“You know, just because something bad happened to you, it doesn't give you the right to be an asshole. You aren't the only person to lose someone or something important. Get over yourself.”

With your hands latched underneath the straps of your backpack you stomped around him. Not caring that you left him standing stone still. His mouth slightly agape as he watched you take your exit. 

During your walk home, somehow, Jungkook plagued your thoughts. Your mind unable to comprehend why you were still thinking about him. It was the first time you’d met, and yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. If you were being honest with yourself you knew from replaying the last thing you said to him.The look on his face saying plainly that you were an asshole.

Everyone’s pain mattered. Grief and loss wasn’t measured by anyone else’s pain but the person who experienced it, and to diminish it in any way was unfair. Regret was building inside your chest and it was all you could do to keep your feet from sprinting back in his direction. 

When you got home you went directly to your room, throwing your bag on the bed, and sulked to your desk. You had more pressing matters to attend to than a boys’ possible hurt feelings. No matter how many times you tried, however, you weren’t able to write out theories on government history or explain anatomical questions.

The only thing your brain appeared to focus on was how to apologize. 

You thought about Jungkook while you showered and brushed your teeth. You thought of him when you laid in bed and struggled to find a way to sleep. Your mind playing out the million different possibilities of how your apology would be taken from him. You didn't necessarily understand what it felt like to have your dreams stolen from you. To be forced to cope with a new life you hadn’t asked for and the emptiness of losing someone you loved all in one go. 

If the tables were turned and it was you, wouldn’t you feel equally as bitter? 

The following morning in between toaster cooked waffles and fixing your uniform in the mirror, you’d resigned to apologizing to him. No matter how much thinking of it made your teeth grind and a growl rise in your chest at the thought. You imagined him sneering and replying with smart remarks and it caused your mind to waver, but you were better than the pettiness swelling in your chest. You were okay with knowing his prickled exterior came from something you couldn't ever understand. 

You made sure all the time you had while you walked to school was used up by mumbling the speech you’d made up the night before. At crosswalks practicing the best stance that didn't appear threatening, was friendly, but wouldn't be misconstrued as flirting. 

That was by far the last thing you wanted to happen in his eyes. Sure, Jungkook was undeniably attractive...as much as you would've loved to laugh sarcastically in his perfectly sculpted face that his obviously very masculine features did nothing to make you weak in the knees. That you hadn’t noticed when his elbows, still clad in his jacket, moved to rest on the desk it’d caused his biceps and shoulders to equally fight for whatever was left of the fabric. Or that small scar on his cheek caught your attention when he became annoyed; his tongue poking out at the side of his jaw. 

No, you hadn't been paying an embarrassing amount of attention to him at all (or at the ridiculous outline of his thigh muscles in his school uniform)  with every step he took. 

So, since you hadn't personally taken notice of any of physically appealing traits, why would you flirt? You were well aware of the vast difference of not only your social scale, but also of your class ranking, and looks overall. You were lightyears away from ever being able to consider being more than a female acquaintance he happened to get stuck next to at school. He wasn't the first boy who was out of your league, and Jungkook wouldn't be the last. Why it bothered you so much was a child's thought you refused to entertain. 

When you finally got to school you hurried up the steps and briskly made your way down the hall. Not stopping even after Jenny cursed after you for nudging her as you went by. As soon as you swung open the door for homeroom, your eyes landed on Jungkook’s position. His cane leaning against the desk, hands tucked inside the pockets of his uniform slacks as he leaned back against the chair. 

His gaze was focused somewhere outside the window, completely blank and motionless, and you wondered if he could've been having a thought at all. He was close to being marked as unreal in your book when he blinked and turned his gaze towards you.

You hadn't realized you’d been staring until that moment. Your gaze dropping to the worn linoleum as you briskly made your way down to your desk. A mumbled, “Good morning,” falling like a bad habit from your lips while you came around the side to slid into the desk chair. Nervous hands clutching tightly to your bag as you stared straight ahead, unwilling to glance in his direction. 

Somewhere between cursing your awkwardness and staring out the window like an escape hatch your teacher started the lecture. None of it to which you were paying attention too, which was probably why you heard him call your name. You jerked in your seat as he yelled it a second time. Your eyes no doubt wide from giggles that sounded around the room. 

“Y/N, since you're listening, you can go ahead and answer number forty-seven in the workbook.”

Panic sent your eyes wide as you stared back at his expectant face: waiting for you to fail. You hadn't even taken your book out since you’d sat down, finally moving to do so, when you felt a light tap against your bag. It was enough to jerk your gaze away from the teacher and down to a completed book of all the problems done by Jungkook. 

He cleared his throat and tucked his hands back inside the pockets of his trousers easily not understanding the severity of how his actions had left you wide-eyed in surprise. You were still taking too long, causing your teacher to prompt you with a grunt and Jungkook to casually reach out and tap the answer again. Your eyes trailing over the written answer before standing up and clearing your throat. The answer rolling off your tongue as easy as breathing; as if you didn't just steal it from a notebook. 

You made a silent prayer the teacher didn't notice the sweat threatening to break at your temple. The nervous ticking of your feet tilting from spot to spot. A rush of relief escaping your lips when his response to your answer was to continue class. 

You took your seat next to Jungkook; unable to acknowledge him just yet for saving you from whatever punishment your teacher would've no doubt thought of. The realization that Jungkook himself was the reason for your lack of concentration making your cheeks flush an embarrassing pink making your arms wrap protectively around your backpack. 

You’d never even brought out your textbook. Never dropped your bag from your desk and no doubt Mr. Choi knew you were given the answer. You buried your mouth against the coarse nylon in a weak attempt to stifle your embarrassment. 

“Thank you.”

Your eyes caught the soft tilt of his brow as it rose at the muffled words. You could make out his left shoulder leaning him down towards your huddled position, making your hands involuntarily tighten into your backpack. 

“What was that?”

The husky whisper of his words weren't anything you’d heard before, and they resonated up your spine to leave you staring starry-eyed.

“Th-thank you. For giving me the answer.”

He didn't respond. His gaze fixed solely on your face until you forcibly struggled to keep from fidgeting under its weight. After what felt like a small eternity, Jungkook nodded his head and faced forward. The sudden ghost of the death of your conversation causing you to blink at his profile. 

The rest of the class was spent with your focus lacking on taking notes. How could you focus with his presence commanding your attention? A small army of ants creeping along your nerves demanding to acknowledge him. It was so strong, when the bell rang you jumped up from your seat to try and escape into the freedom of the school’s hallway, only to end up with your knee connecting straight into the hardwood of the desk. Jungkook’s snort at your misfortune was enough to remind you how much of an arrogant pain in the ass he could be. 

“Wow - good job doofus.”

Your head snapped back in his direction; tongue rolling in your cheek as he hopped up from his seat. A hand snaking out to grab his bag and sling it over his shoulder as the other reached for his cane. You held your head high despite how awful your knee was stinging, and stood up adjusting your bag. 

“Seriously? That's all you've got? Doofus? Next time let’s try harder.”

Jungkook didn't seemed miffed by your retort, actually seeming more amused than anything, and for some reason it only bugged you more. Did you really want to get into another argument like you were in primary school with him? You discarded the thought as you tightened the strings on your backpack and decided to take the mature route and leave him behind. 

The hallways mass of bodies rushing to get to their next period giving you comfort; until you remembered you shared the same economics class. Today was also a field trip to a farm to learn the process of making soy products. It would take up the last few classes of the day. You’d been excited to spend the day out of class and enjoy the rustic scenery out of town. Your only hope was that he hadn't been able to get his parental slip signed; he’d just started the day before. How could he?

When the teacher walked in and asked Jungkook for his permission slip you wanted to howl. Why was the universe so cruel? But why did you care so much? 

It was a question you didn't bother to think about; you just grumbled the whole way to the bus. Your teacher standing at its entrance to put a check by your names every time one of your classmates passed him by like lined up cattle. You were the last checkmark: the last person to find an available seat. You rounded the final step and your stomach sank down into your shoes. The universe seeming to play a sick joke of musical chairs; your only options being Jungkook or Amber, the girl who actively struggled to make sure your life was a living hell. 

You’d rather be eaten by dogs than even attempt to sit with her. Jungkook it was, then.

Your hand clasped tighter around the strap of your bag as you moved it farther up your shoulder. A large sigh accommodating your steps as you side-stepped down the aisle ending with you in front of his seat. His cane taking up what was left of it. 

Jungkook didn't seem to register your presence or he just decided to pretend you weren't there. Either way you felt your annoyance grow as you cleared your throat to grab his attention. His chin barely leaving the perch of his fist as his head turned; gaze intimidating in a way that left your fingers pinching the fabric of yours clothes just to make sure they were still there and he hadn't stared straight through them. 

“Can I help you?”

“I need a seat.”

He looked back and no doubt noticed the open spot next to Amber. Jungkook’s giving the slightest nod as he retorted, “There’s one right back there.”

“Come on, Jungkook. What do you want?”

“You're bribing me now?” 

His smile was so bright, borderline adorable, and you hated how it threatened to make you retaliate with your own. 

“Stop being a brat and just tell me,” you snapped instead. 

Jungkook shot a quick glance back at Amber’s giggling figure. You were sure most people thought she sounded like wind chimes or something else cute and feminine, but to you it just sounded like a cat dying. When he looked back at you, Jungkook checked you out one last time. His eyes stopping at the lone earbud that sat against your chest. For a moment, you thought he was actually staring at your breasts making your cheeks burn and your gaze to look anywhere else but at his smug face. 

“Let me listen to your iPod there and back on this trip, and I'll let you sit with me.”

“What am I supposed to do?”  

Jungkook did a lavish hand sweep at the window. The motion reminding you of the showgirls on The Price is Right, making you believe maybe he’d somehow watched it, and one too many times. 

“You get to use your imagination while you look out the window.”

“No way. Joint custody.”

“Fine. Joint custody, but I get to pick the music the whole way. If you have shitty taste the deal's off.”

He stuck out his hand for you to shake and there was a moment, a minor second, that it felt like you were making a deal with the devil. However, the sound of Amber’s laughter practically had your hand bolting into Jungkook’s. You shook it harder than was necessary before dropping it and shooing him to move. 

Jungkook removed his bag and cane from the seat. Your legs giving out moments later so you could plop down in it, only to be greeted by his outstretched hand. The smile that spread across his lips shining brighter than the mischief in his eyes. 

“As per our agreement: the iPod.”

He wiggles his fingers and you wanted to smack him. Your own squeezing tighter against the metal until, reluctantly, you chose your fate by placing it into his hand. Jungkook didn’t seem to mind your current look of displeasure while you watched him begin to scroll through your assorted music collection. 

At least the seat was warm. 

The first few seconds were somehow more awkward than you thought possible. Eyes locked in a fifty-yard stare so intense a soldier would’ve been envious. The only movement you caught of him was from your peripherals. Jungkook’s thumbs picking up speed from the leisurely way he scanned through the artists you’d offered. And no you did not, whatsoever, happen to notice the way his bottom lip would dart inside his mouth just to be held gently between his teeth. All the while his eyes focused on the task in front of him.

Nope. You weren’t paying attention to him. Not even a little bit. So how he was able to make you jump twelve inches out of your skin, while you were most definitely not embarrassing yourself by gawking over a beautiful man, was beyond you.

“Ya!” Jungkook clicked his tongue in distaste. His hand wiggling the ipod in your direction, as if it had caused some great offense. “What is this?”

Your neck tiled as you regarded him like he’d grown two heads. You were also positive if your eyebrows knitted together any harder you’d end up with a unibrow. 

“Ugh, a mystical device that plays music.”

The look on Jungkook’s face faltered from frustration to annoyance. It was so sudden it ended up sending a bark of laughter in his direction. And just like that, the annoyed look was back again. 

“I mean, what the hell do you have on this thing. Who is The Dead Weather? City and Colour? Joji?”

“They are artists I enjoy.”

“They’re shit.”

You rushed to try and snatch it back from him. Jungkook’s reflexes proving to be faster than your growing urge to smack him.

“Excuse me, little miss,” he began. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He used his index finger to push gently against your forehead, but with the current level of irritation, he still proved faster than you. Your failed attempt to swat his hand away meeting only empty air. Earning you a smirk of smug satisfaction. 

“I’m trying to get my things back.”

“That wasn’t part of our agreement.”

You tried one last time to take him by surprise. Your right hand shot out too hard to grab at the object clasped in his large hands. The momentum carried you forward to land shoulder first against his chest. Leg nudging against his with enough force that it caused his cane to move an inch. It took everything you had to keep your head down to hide your flaming cheeks. 

“And now you’re assaulting me.”

If your eyes were capable of rolling back any father you might've seen brain cells.

“I was only trying to get my property back. Since the only thing that’s coming out of you is complaining.”

“I’m not complaining,” he snapped. “You’re acting like an Indian giver.”

“Is that all you know how to do: complain?” You continued, completely ignoring him. A slight smirk now etching your lips. Jungkook’s eyes flicking down to notice your amusement at his expense. “I believe they call it, ‘trying something new.’” 

His eyes narrowed on you and for a split second your pulse began to race. Sure, the agitation on his face at your teasing was obvious, but you could’ve sworn...maybe...just maybe he was smirking. Could you have possibly been able to make him smile? 

“I should make you go sit with Amber.”

The smugness in his voice and the cocky smile that joined it instantly made whatever fun you were having come to a complete halt. Jungkook was so pleased with himself he had the audacity to shimmy his shoulders like he’d already won. The rolls had reversed. It was your eyes turn to throw daggers in his direction. 

“Now who's the Indian giver.”

Even though he played up on what he felt like was a win, you could tell he was not as amused. His non-injured leg bounced to an incredible rhythm that he could only hear. Probably a furious count to a hundred to keep himself from saying anything else to continue your usual thrilling conversations. So when he handed over one earbud, and the iPod, but placed the other into his ear, it was fair to say it left you baffled. 

You were waiting so long for him to give an explanation, but all he did was continue to stare at you. It was starting to make your pulse race again. Why did he constantly have to feel so intense? Everything about him. Not even his current state made him seem any less notable. It just didn’t seem fair. 

It wasn’t until he cleared his throat did you realize you’d been staring. For god knows how damn long. 

“You gonna play something or not?” he asked. 

His hand motioned towards the music while his fingers adjusted the earbud he’d kept. 

“I’m so confused.”

“You look it,” he retorted, causing your earlier thoughts to remember, although handsome, he was an incredible pain in the ass. 

“Ten seconds ago you complained about my music. Now you want me to play it for you.”

Jungkook turned his gaze away, his body relaxing back against the hard foam of the seat. His eyes still cast outside the window as if he was trying to find some way to escape. 

“Either I can spend the next couple hours listening to you talk, or “try” out some new music. If I have a choice, I’ll pick the music please and thank you.”

Oh, how you wish you could’ve shoved him out that tiny window. But as much as you hated to admit it, Jungkook was right. Music was the only reasonable escape from possibly having either of you commit murder. 

It was your turn to try and get comfortable. This time your thumb scanning down the list of artists until your eyes caught sight of one he’d mentioned. Without giving him warning you pressed play. The haunting melody of Joji’s “Dancing in the Dark,” flooded the earbuds. His voice melancholic as he began to sing a sad tale of not wanting to be the hidden second option. 

The song choice was enough to finally get Jungkook to look back at you. Somehow already having enough with the song choice before it’d barely even reached the chorus. 

“Just listen.”

It was the only advice you could give him, and hopefully the reassurance you’d tried to ease into your tone was enough. Whether it was or not, by the time the chorus began he seemingly relaxed again into the seat. His arms moving to cross lazily against his chest. He seemed to actually be taking in the song while he watched out the window. The passing of the steel and concrete that was Seoul into the rural areas of green and forest. 

The music itself was calming. It was enough to let yourself fully relax back against it and close your eyes. With your eyes closed you could easily fade out the sounds of the sporadic conversations on the bus. Even though you only had one ear bud, all you needed was to concentrate on the music to drown out the world. 

It took a few seconds for you to be pulled into a Joji’s song about terrible longing and being left behind by a lover. I mean, you didn’t really know too much about the latter, but hey, a girl could daydream. His voice was seconds away from heading into the second verse of the chorus, when you heard the sound of the melody being lightly sung beside you. 

The voice was beautiful. The most startling part, not the fact of its softness, or the way it swelled in perfect harmony with the song, was that it came from Jungkook. Your eyes flung open with your head snapping to gaze at his serene expression. He continued to face the window, daylight playing along the profile of his face, and his gentle voice singing perfectly in tune. 

It wasn’t loud enough that anyone else could’ve heard it over the dozens of bursting conversations being spoken throughout the bus. That the only conclusion you could come up with to why he would be singing at all. He thought no one would be able to pay attention. You probably would’ve stayed gawking at him if his eyes fluttering open didn’t send you crashing back against the seat and clutching your eyes shut. You needed to pretend you hadn’t noticed. Or else he would stop. He would hide this part of himself that showed he was more than what he tried to portray. 

You didn’t have to open your eyes to know he was glancing in your direction. To see his eyes gaze over you with suspicion before settling back and listening to the next track. Khalid’s intro of “Talk,” beginning to play into your earbud. 

You spent the rest of the trip staying beside him, close as you could get without looking creepy, just to hear him gently sing. He breathed a gentle version of each one he knew, or came to like, and made it his own. Even being a few times were his nerves got the better of him. His voice rising ever slightly when he drew too deep into the song. He would quiet after each outburst, but to your pleasure Jungkook would start back up moments later. 

After all the bickering, you could definitely say the trade was worth it. You were so taken with listening to him that when the bus came to a stop, you didn’t realize it until your earbud was yanked from your ears. Your eyes heavy from sleep fluttered open and closed a few times before they focused on Jungkook’s face. 

“Ya, didn’t you hear them call us off the bus?”

Your response came in the form of slow blinks and a mouth half-hung open. You wished more for a nap than going out to explore a farm, but your limbs were screaming to be stretched. You went to answer him when, instead, Jungkook grabbed his bag, cane, and started to try and scoot over you.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Trying to get by! So excuse me!”

His backside rubbed against your arms and, to your horror, your chest. Without thinking, your hand lashed out to smack across his bottom causing both of you to go as still as the dead. Your heart was thundering as you looked at your hand like it’d just finished committing murder. Maybe it had. But the only person it’d murdered was you with your eyes roaming up to see a shocked Jungkook gawking down at you over his shoulder. 

“Did you really just smack my ass.”

“It was an accident!”

“An accident?” He questioned.

“Self-defense!”

Jungkook tried to hide the amusement your no doubt panicking was causing him. His mouth struggling to keep the frown that was tilting ever so slightly at the top of his lips. 

“If anything needed to be defended, it was my honor. Over here just smacking people’s ass’s without a warning.”

You knew by now your face looked like a fire hydrant. 

“Self-defense from you dragging your ass all over me! I’m not a seat, ya know.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

This time Jungkook didn’t try to hide his smile. To your surprise, it wasn’t a malicious one that showed he enjoyed your embarrassment. No. This one decorated his face in something softer that made your heart thunder to a different rhythm entirely. 

“Oh, look you guys. Shit Stain and The Cripple are flirting.”

Amber’s grating voice was one you’d grown painstakingly accustomed too. The sinister way she spoke impossibly loud just so everyone was forced to hear her. Whether they wanted to or not. You were used to her coldness and the constant way she harassed you. What you weren’t so used to, was having Jungkook as part of the punchline. 

Immediately, you felt his legs tense where they touched you. The muscles ramrod straight and flexing under the skin. The lighthearted tone you’d heard seconds before in your banter was now replaced with an aloofness that made you stiffen in your seat. Jungkook’s jaw held tight as he regarded Amber as if she were no more than a pest buzzing at his ear.

“Ya, fix your nose before you bother talking to me. I can see half the planet up there.”

Amber’s eyes flashed hellfire as she glowered over her shoulders to stop the giggling that ensued. When all grew quiet enough to where she felt like she would be heard, a harsh smile spread her lips. Her legs began to take a step to move away from the two peasants who’d held enough of her attention. 

“Whatever, Cripple. Try not to get your stick in any holes.”

She was passing the front of your shared seat when, suddenly, Amber’s legs gave way. A tumbling mess of shrieks, bleached hair, and her arms flapping rapidly a solid indication of her mysterious attempt at taking flight. The only thing that moved to catch her was her face. The minute the laughter began to bubble up inside you, you quickly placed a hand over your mouth. Least the she-devil hear it escape. 

You took a second to inspect what could’ve possibly taken down the ice queen. Even when she wore ridiculously high heels, Amber walked with a grace you knew you’d never pull off. Not without looking like a newborn giraffe, that is. Glancing down you noticed Jungkook’s cane strategically placed right where her foot would’ve landed. The culprit in making Amber a freshly minted carpet on the bus’s floor. Somewhere on the bus you knew she was up from her tumble and huffing a few choice words. You were sure she knew, just like you did, that Jungkook was the one who’d done it. You paid no attention to her tantrum and kept a transfixed gaze on him. 

He’d finished scooting the rest of the way to get to the middle of the bus and was situating his cane and shoulder bag. His hand suddenly reaching down into view and patiently waiting for you to take it. 

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s go.”

You knew you looked like a fool. Your eyes mirroring the thousands of silent questions that threatened to make you ill. A part of you hoping he understood your dumbfounded look simply begged him to find some way to answer you. You’d stared starry-eyed up at him for so long you half expected the patience of Jungkook’s open hand to fall flat. Instead, he continued to surprise you. His gaze gentle, and hand openly waiting for you to take it when you were ready. 

With eyes wide and mouth agape, your body rejected your stunned silence and placed a small hand in his. His own quickly enveloped yours perfectly and gave you the added support you needed to find stable footing beside him. Jungkook finally looked away from you to stare at the remaining goons. 

The moment you stood beside him you became painfully aware of the noticeable height difference. Your gaze moving up inch-by-inch until your eyes were locked onto his face. The stubbornness of a hard set jaw and eyes that dared anyone to speak enough to make your heartbeat pick up in your chest. When he appeared to be finished making sure his presence was known, Jungkook’s eyes turned back to you. A silent request of reassurance to know you were alright making you answer with a quick nod. 

Your cheeks blushed furiously as you struggled to look away from his gaze. No longer were you so worried about Amber; your mind trapped on a repeat of questions. Did Jungkook always smell like Calvin Klein cologne? Could it be considered weird how you felt undeniable comfort pressed up against him? Or really weird if in your head you suddenly imagined recreating this scene a million times later with you being braver beside him, instead of being the damsel in distress.

He didn’t seem at all perplexed with your case of sudden shyness. His strong legs pulling you both forward and past the horde of Amber and her lackeys without missing a step. His head held high while the other hand helped him keep his balance without using his cane. For the small world that was high school, Jungkook showed them he was still that once popular boy who was known for not taking shit from no one. A demi-god amongst mere mortals that were somehow honored by his presence. 

And here you were. So close to the orbit of his sun and walking away unscathed.

Your train of rushing thoughts kept you from paying attention. It was something you soon were going to regret when he led you off the steps of the bus and onto the dirt road. Jungkook’s exit was obviously graceful while yours in comparison was a train wreck. Instead of your feet stepping off the last step and landing like a normal person, you lost your footing. Your clumsy feet sending you struggling to find a balance with the earth before you crash landed on the floor. Luckily, Jungkook’s back was there to catch you. 

The momentum of your fall sent his feet skittering to correct you both before you fell into the dirt. A few choice cuss words leaving his lips and crimson flaring up on your cheeks to make the dance of falling even more entertaining. You could practically hear the cackling of the witches echoing out of the bus like a cave. 

Jungkook made quick work of righting you both; his good leg furiously hoping to support the weak one. His cane dug into the earth a good inch to add some more stabilization. You let go of his hand and moved away from his side where you’d previously been planted. You weren’t worthy of being there. This boy who saw your distress and helped you. Only for you to ruin it in the process. 

“Well that’s one way to ruin an exit,” he huffed. 

He glanced in your direction and you could’ve sworn he was smiling. Or was that a smirk? Whatever it was, it was quickly washed away as his eyes took you in. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry!”

Your words rushed from your lips with your back snapping to bow a perfect ninety-degrees. Your hair a curtain to try and hide your embarrassment. 

“Ugh...for what?”

“For bumping into you like that. I should’ve been paying attention.”

A soft laugh bounced from between his lips and you were willing to beat his face lit up like pure sunshine. You moved to stand upright just in time to see you were right. Jungkook was either oblivious to the way you were looking at him, or was simply unfazed. His shoulder hiking the backpack where it’d begun to fall as he adjusted himself to get ready to move to join the rest of the class up ahead. 

“You did ruin one hell of a stylish exit.”

“I don’t know how stylish you can be stepping off of a school bus, but...thank you.” 

The both of you locked eyes with one another. A large part of you hoped Jungkook was able to see the sincerity or at least hear it. Maybe he wasn’t that much of a pain in the ass after all. That soft smirk you’d grown accustomed to etched back on his lips as he took the first step towards your waiting classmates.

“No problem. Plus, I figured I owed you for letting me listen to your music.”

You felt your brow shoot up in mock surprise. Your legs falling into step beside him. 

“I thought you said I had terrible taste.”

“I never said terrible,” Jungkook corrected. His eyes danced with a playfulness that lifted a smile to your lips

“You could’ve fooled me.”

“Well, it wasn’t the greatest, but thank you. I actually ended up liking most of it, at least.”

“Oh, what a sweet way of insulting my musical taste.”

“Hey! I said I liked most of it. It’s like a win-win. Kinda.”

You wanted to be snappy. Give him some more hell for always playing up on being a condescending moody jerk. In reality, walking next to Jungkook while the silence swelled around you without the awkward pressure; you knew that wasn’t all of him. He’d proven how sweet he could be at the memory of how easily you’d felt protected by a simple stretch of a hand. The look in his eyes while he waited for you to take his extended hand a plea to know you could trust him. Strangely, a part of you already felt like you could. 

You snuck a look over in Jungkook’s direction, and felt a smile begin to sweep up the corners of your lips. It was a different, but nice, change to have someone come to your defense. Yeah, most of the time you wanted to throttle him for seeming like he could care less. In that moment, however, he cared enough to help. That had to mean something.

“You’re welcome.”

You hoped your words conveyed the gratitude you felt in that moment. Prayed that Jungkook could hear it. When he looked at you, you made sure to give him a quick smile before you looked away. Your eyes struggled not to look back at him; to tell him all the things that were racing through your head. It took every ounce of your will to stay focused on the group of classmates that were growing closer. Somewhere along the way, you’d hoped Jungkook would’ve replied with his usual smart ass remarks. It worried you how sad a small part of you felt at his silence. 

Now, you worried maybe you were going a little nuts.

Instead, you came to the edge of the group in silence. Your ears struggling to grasp on to the middle of what your teacher gave out for instructions for the day. 

So what if that insane part of you didn’t receive a smart ass remark in return for your gratitude. You were more than happy with the fact Jungkook stayed by your side. The close proximity just enough to convey what you were both feeling without unnecessary words.

______________

For the past hour the farmer -Kim Sejung - had shown the class around his vast property. The beginning of this magical tour starting with where he manufactured the tofu once it was fermented then sent down to be processed for packaging. He was a man who took immense pride in his work. The next room where the fermentation took place and, his overeager explanation, spelled out how devoted he was to his craft. 

The whole entire backwards presentation was something your teacher decided became a chance for everyone to write down everything you’d been shown. A punishment you knew was coming when Kim Sejung lost half the class to their own conversations long before you’d hit the second part of his speech. 

Now, anyone could be wondering why all of you were taking the longest stroll of your life out in the middle of the farm. A fair question you’d been asking yourself since you realized your shoes were completely covered in mud. You’d been trying to understand why this hadn’t been the first place Kim Sejung would’ve taken all of you. Your only guess being he just enjoyed showing the process backwards. Or maybe he was secretly a  mastermind at torture. It was the only logical conclusion you could come up with at having the entire class now out in the muddy acres of his farm.

And sure, maybe your attention was being sent over your shoulder every five seconds. A certain boy with exhaustion creased in his brow making it harder for you to ignore. You were looking back so often you felt like you’d end up with whiplash at any minute. Really, it was all Jungkook’ fault for causing you to worry; becoming painfully aware with each glance at Jungkook’s struggling frame. 

How Sejung -, or anyone else for that matter, hadn’t noticed he was falling further behind the group with every step left you completely perplexed. You’d gave up listening to whatever the farmer or teacher talked about or what questions they were throwing around. You could bet it had to do about soil. 

If everyone else could ignore him why couldn’t you? It’s not that you hadn’t tried, cause of course you’d done exactly that. Your bottom lip now held a semi-permanent indent from your teeth. Whenever you felt that tick in your neck to look back to check on him: you bit down. When you felt like drawing attention to him by saying something: you bit down. A part of you willing to bet Jungkook would never forgive you if you did. 

Your solution? It was ingenious, really. 

You fell back behind every classmate. Patiently, you waited for everyone to pass you up. Your feet dragging in the muddy dirt until you were sure no one would notice when you inevitably stopped. 

With a soft count of three under your breath, you came to a halt at the back of the group. Your small count continued for another round before you were comfortable with the distance it’d placed between the group, Jungkook, and yourself.

You let out a huff of satisfaction as you turned around to give Jungkook your complete attention. Your neck thanking you for the small favor. What you found, however, greeting you was far from what you’d hoped to find. 

Jungkook’s current location became a solid five feet behind the group. His feet finally coming to the large puddle of mud that you and the class had easily maneuvered Jungkook had not. His struggle coming to a standstill at the muddy puddles edge. Jungkook’s face etched itself in harsh determination to no doubt allow him from moving forward. You told yourself you would stay back and wait for him. 

Just wait, You kept telling yourself over and over. A broken record having nothing on what you felt capable of standing there. Your pulse bonding in your veins and feet bouncing with anxiety as he assessed his options. All you were supposed to do was hang back to walk with him. That was it. You weren’t his nanny. You knew how he felt about being pitied, and yet, when he took his first tentative step out into the mud and his cane sunk deep and his bad leg followed suit, your feet deceived you. 

It appeared Mother Nature had her own way of pushing you past your reserved good intentions. Your feet sprinted forward fast enough that you were embarrassed at their quickness. The expected movement bringing Jungkook’s frustrated gaze up from his current dilemma to you.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?”

The annoyance held in his question didn’t go unnoticed by you. If it was you in his position, you’d be annoyed seeing you standing there too and not offering to help. 

“I came to help you.”

The words just streamed out with your running thoughts. Your feet willing to move forward back into the mud to help him. Jungkook noticeably began to struggle to remove his foot that submerged quickly underneath. 

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“You didn’t have too, Jungkook. I want to help.”

“Let me rephrase myself.” His irritation was pure fire in his eyes as his words hurled in your direction. “I didn’t ask for it and I don’t want it.”

You wish you could say you handled his dismissal with grace. That you understood he was only being a jerk because he was embarrassed and angry at his current predicament. You really wanted to be that bigger person. Well...that most definitely wasn’t what happened. 

Your eyes narrowed in on him. Your previous desire to help evaporated as you watched his leg sink deeper. His other foot soon joined the first in a poorly calculated attempt to release the other. Your arms crossed over your chest as you took in the scene before you. 

“Well, Jungkook, I’m not sure if you noticed but you’re slowly heading towards being buried under that mud.”

“Thank you for that astute observation. Anything else you’d like to add?”

“Why are you being such an asshole?!” you snapped.

Your arms came loose down at your side and turned to clenched fists. You weren’t exactly sure what you expected his reaction to be. You knew Jungkook held a hatred for being pitied. Hell, you would too if it was the other way around. You knew he wasn’t helpless, but you also knew he couldn’t do everything alone. No one could. So what was so wrong with offering to help him?

You weren’t sure how you looked. Maybe crazy? Or did the desperation of not knowing how to handle the situation have you appear sad? Whatever it was Jungkook saw, it was enough to look away. His eyes dropping down to his covered feet. 

The space between the two of you swelled with tension. His hair perfectly covering his face, and kept you from being able to steal any glance. It was enough to make you unsure if you should prepare yourself for a verbal battle with him or if you should simply walk away. What if you’d made a mistake thinking Jungkook would want to be bothered at all with help. Especially from you. 

“God, this is embarrassing.”

His words were so light you weren’t sure at first if he’d spoken. A part of you wondering if you’d made up the sound of his voice as Jungkook’s face continued to be hidden by layers of hair. But, lord help you, you knew you weren’t imagining things. The sound of his voice is something you’d come to recognize with ease. You knew without a doubt it most definitely was him. And the sadness that reverberated from his words made your anger dissipate instantly. 

“What?”

Could you have picked a stupider response? When Jungkook lifted his head up to look at you, you knew he silently agreed.

“It’s embarrassing!” His hands motioned to take in his current predicament. The hurt shown on his proud features made your heart ache to comfort him. “How pitiful can I get? It’s so damn frustrating! The cripple unable to get himself out of some stupid mud.”

“Jungkook, you are literally the least pitiful person I’ve ever met.”

“And yet, it doesn’t make me any less stuck.”

You took a step forward and began to try and edge around what you could of the puddle. You knew there was no way you weren’t getting more mud on your shoes, but the purpose was worth it. 

“Why didn’t you just go around it?” Your question earned you a dead stare. One that reminded you of your mother when she felt like you’d asked the silliest question. You held your hands up in surrender and said, “Hey. It’s a fair question.”

“If I just go around it, it proves that I can’t do the simplest thing, Y/N. It proves…”

“That you aren’t like everybody else,” you finished for him.

You could’ve kicked yourself. How could you not have noticed it sooner. Jungkook just wanted to prove to himself that he could still do things like he did before his accident. Because even though he showed people bringing up his disability didn’t bother him, it did. He still hadn’t come to terms with what happened, and believed the current state of his leg deemed him less worthy. 

He looked away from whatever he saw in your eyes. His own fighting not to show the sadness that threatened to spill down his cheeks. 

“You aren’t like everyone else, Jungkook.” Your words tore his head back in your direction. His shoulders quickly squared up to take whatever verbal blow you were about to hurl in his direction. You were happy to convince him otherwise.

“You don’t need to prove anything to a single person. Yeah, you aren’t a hundred percent who you used to be, but it doesn’t make you any less you. You aren’t defined by a damn leg and if another human being does treat you differently because of it: fuck’em. Now, get your shit together and hand me the end of your cane.”

The both of you stared at one another for what felt like an eternity. Jungkook’s face unreadable as his eyes took you in making you squirm just the slightest bit. Whether he was looking for a hint that you were deceiving him; that something hurtful laid underneath, he wouldn’t find it. You made sure with your hand this time open and waiting for him, that he could see just how much you meant what you said. 

After what felt like a baby size eternity, Jungkook answered you in a way you’d grown to expect. In one swift motion, he picked his cane out from the mud and placed it, dirty end first into your waiting hand. Your face scrunched up in disgust, as the leftover mud squished between your fingers. The action enough to break the coldness of Jungkook’s blank expression into the smirk that was all too familiar. 

“Oh my god! You would do that.”

The amusement on his face was enough to tell you he’d most definitely done it on purpose. Of course, you’d already known that. You didn’t need his raised eyebrow or that devilish smirk to inform you of that.

“Oh, so you think you know me now.”

“I know enough to know, without a doubt, this is something you’d do. Brat.”

You saved the last word for good measure and it was met with a bark of surprise laughter. His reaction was not something you’d expected, but a welcomed one as his face instantly lit up brighter than you’d ever seen. Jungkook’s laughter and smile was genuine and good god, was it breathtakingly adorable. 

Who knew calling him a brat led to so many heart stopping possibilities? Like no longer having a permanent scowl. 

“Alright smart ass, how about we settle this for when I’m not stuck in the mud.”

“You got yourself a deal. Only if you stop pouting.”

“I was not pouting!”

It was your turn to laugh wholeheartedly while your other hand moved to secure itself to his cane. There was no way you’d be letting it slip free from you. Mud or no mud. 

“Tomato potato: pouting is pouting.”

Jungkook’s head tilted to the side. His brain noticeably trying to comprehend what it was you just said.

“That makes absolutely no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense, Jungkook now grab a hold of yo-“

Honestly, you should’ve seen this coming. He’d already given you a muddy end of a cane. It was the perfect foreshadowing moment that was leading up to this, and yet, somehow you were surprised when he pulled with full force. You figured he was strong - not freakishly. Not enough to send you flying face first toward the large mud puddle with the sound of a squeaking bird of surprise that you could only assume was yourself. 

The only thing that kept you from going face first was a split second decision to ruin just the lower half of your outfit. 

The impact with the mud was squishy and came with the weirdest sound effects that reminded you of pushing your hand into a container of slim. God, was it squishy. An immediate, “Ewww,” dragging out from your lips as your hands lifted up from where they’d been buried. Your eyes taking in the full extent of your lower half now resembles the Swamp Thing. 

Jungkook’s laughter brought you back to reality and flinging what was left of the mud on your hands in his direction. It only earned you another bark of laughter. 

“What in the hell was that for?!”

“Now whose pouting?” He teased.

You wanted to hit him but you knew you couldn’t reach. So you settled for flinging another round of mud. 

“Are you kidding me? You pulled me in here cause I said you were pouting!”

“Yup.”

“Unbelievable. You’re a child.”

“I thought you said brat?”

“That too! Ugh! Jungkook! You’re such a pain in the ass. I’m not helping you anymore.”

You moved to try and pull up one leg and found it way more difficult than you’d imagined. Seriously, was this shit superglue? No matter how many times you struggled to pull up either leg it wouldn’t budge; producing an agitated groan to seep from your body. 

You wanted to murder him. 

When you glanced up at him at least Jungkook had the decency to appear worried.

“Do you need help? I didn’t think it’d be so hard for you to pull yourself up.”

“Oh, so you’re worried about me not being able to pull myself up, but not about me covered in mud.”

The shrug Jungkook gave as an answer made you want to throttle him. You wanted to tell him to shove his help up his ass. Realistically, however, you knew there was no way you were getting unstuck without getting dirtier from crawling around. For a second time, his hand appeared, like magic, in front of you. 

Your eyes trailed up his hand to that devilish grin of his and found your earlier agitation disintegrate. What you hated the most, was how his eyes lit up to match his smile. This warm version of Jungkook wasn’t someone you were used to. You’d seen the cocky jock who knew he was good at everything. Experienced the real asshole Jungkook that made you want to rip out chunks of hair. But this side of him...was worth a heartache or two. 

Without another thought you reached out and took his hand and allowed him to start lifting you up. It wasn’t until you were half way you came up with your own plan. A devilish grin of your own spreading your lips wide as the idea grew into something worth doing . 

Jungkook had a moment to be confused before your free hand shot out and took fierce hold of his forearm. You made sure it was locked in place before your body went completely limp, and sent his body into an unbalanced mess. 

“The fu-!”

Jungkook’s descent, at first, made you feel like you’d accomplished a victory. One you didn’t get to relish in for long. Jungkook may not have been able to finish his earlier sentence, but you easily made up for it. A softened, “Fuck!” came pressed from your chest as he landed sideways on top of you. The angle reminded you of an awkward pair of scissors: if one part of the scissors was ridiculously muscled for a student. 

You’d had little time to move your hands up to brace yourself against his weight. The air from your lungs whooshing out in laughter with your body struggling to recover from underneath him. And no, no you weren’t painfully aware that your hands could feel every well lined muscle under the fabric of his t-shirt. And no, you were not blushing. Not even a little. 

You were sure when Jungkook lifted his head up to look in your direction, he’d see the sinful glee you took in your awkward positioning. Instead, your lungs erupted into laughter. One side of his face perfectly smeared with mud making one eye remain closed and his right doing most of the work. He looked ridiculous...and cute. 

“You think this is funny?”

“I think-I think it’s the best thing I’m going to see all day.”

It took a few tries to speak through your laughter, but when you finally got the words out you couldn’t have been more proud. Jungkook on the other hand, seemed to struggle to keep the annoyance on his face. The first sign of a smile cracking into the mud that began to dry on his face. 

Jungkook moved to prop himself up - the action giving you the room you needed to wiggle out from underneath him. You were about to call it a success, a retort to an unspoken comment he’d yet to make. All of it came crashing down, however, when Jungkook’s mud covered hand rose from the depths and placed a long streak down your nose with his thumb giving an artistic sweep across your cheek. 

The marks he gave reminded you of those old western movies you’d seen. Warpaint covered faces of men getting ready to square off to defend their home from invaders. The thought seemed to match perfectly with the beat of your heart thundering like a drum inside your chest.

It wasn’t just because Jungkook touched you - on purpose - in a playful way. It had nothing to do with the fact his muddy hand was currently resting against your cheek. Or from the denial that it brought out a spark of mischievous happiness to ignite inside you as your mouth fell open to expose the sound of laughter. No, your heart pounded against your chest purely for the look that passed behind chocolate eyes and the soft smile that followed close behind. 

So, sure. In that instance it could’ve just been a plan old look. You weren’t a hundred percent sure it wasn’t more than just a look though, either. There was that one boy in first grade, however, who did give you an aggressive teeth-clacking peck on the lips during recess, but this was completely different. 

And because you were so uncertain of what it all meant, your only reaction was to lift your hand up from beside you and slam it palm first against his face. 

Jungkook’s face lit up in shock and you couldn’t stop the eruption of laughter that spilled from your lips. It was an immediate rush of joy at seeing his handsome face marked by your small muddy handprint that streaked itself across the plains of his face. Normally, you’d be mortified: waiting patiently to be scolded and made to feel small. Instead, the shock wore off his face in an instant. Jungkook’s eyes lighting up with childlike excitement as a giddy, “Oh yeah?” rushed between his lips. 

You didn’t have a chance to wonder what he meant before he reached into the mud and brought up a snowball version of the earth. 

“Oh, no you don’t!” 

Your eyes went wide and frantic giggles exploded free as your body struggled in vain to get out from under him. The previous joy of being pinned by his weight dissipating when that large mud ball found its new home smeared on top of your head. 

“Jungkook-ah!”

His own laughter rose up around you as your body began to move in earnest to get out from under him. When you finally realized it was pointless, another bright idea overtook you. If Jungkook noticed the renewed mischievous glint in your eye, he didn’t show it. 

He continued to smile obliviously down at you until the two fist fulls of mud you’d taken in both hands came crashing down on top of his head. It didn’t matter that your face caught some of the aftermath: the face he made was priceless. 

You didn’t get a chance to enjoy your tiny victory before the two of you were a mess of arms and limbs rolling feverishly around; the two of you playfully wrestling for dominance. The mixture of your laughter rising up until you weren’t sure where Jungkook’s ended and yours began. By the end of it, you were both resembling the pigs you’d seen earlier on the farm. Bodies fully covered in wet earth and lounging beside each other in exhaustion. Every few moments random fits of giggles overtaking the two of you until you realized you both needed to get back. 

This time, instead of the two of you refusing help from the other, you eagerly took it. The both of you worked together to reach the edge of the mud pit and, without further incident, pulled each other out. 

The walk back to the main barn was done in silence. In other circumstances, you would’ve been consumed with a need to fill it. The impending weight of anxiety would’ve flared across your skin until you would’ve blurted out anything. Small talk was never one of your strong suits, but a comfortable banter had somehow formed between the two of you. You knew if you started talking, Jungkook would respond. It was still a fifty-fifty on whether or not it would be a smart ass response or a real one, but a response nonetheless. 

You didn’t try to start a conversation. You chose to enjoy the reassurance that he was beside you. Your mind running through what exactly just happened and how you both ended up looking like bad impression art. You’d spent so much time stealing glances in his direction that you could’ve sworn you caught him doing the same. But who were you kidding. No one had stolen glances at you since middle school, and that was only to steal the answers off tests. 

There was no way Jeon Jungkook would be the one to break that trend. No matter how flattering the thought. So when you felt that knowable itch of being watched you found yourself surprised that Jungkook was indeed staring at you. 

“Are you cold?”

Jungkook’s question jolted you from your train of thought and sent you reeling into another. He was closer to you now. Close like you’d been while sitting on the bus with your shoulders brushing with every movement. Every bump helplessly sending you lightly banging into the other. 

On the bus you could easily play it off as something out of your control. But now? Now there was no good explanation that you could find to why Jungkook decided to walk so closely beside you. There was no way to explain away the way his gaze drew across your face like he’d save it to memory. 

“Well I am covered in freezing mud water.” 

You’d tried for sarcasm but your voice barely carried over a whisper. It made Jungkook’s head subconsciously dip lower just to hear you. The devilish smirk he was infamous for spread like wildfire across his lips. 

“I would offer you my jacket, since it’s the gentlemanly thing to do, but you see some crazy person pushed me into the mud.”

A scoff escaped you as your hand playfully whipped out to slap his shoulder. 

“Ya, Jungkook! You? A gentleman? That’s funny. What is also funny is the fact you got yourself stuck in the mud first. I just came to rescue you.”

“Rescue me?” He asked with an eyebrow coyly cocked. 

“I’m like your knight in shining armor.”

A throaty laugh came from between his lips; sending his head back exposing his face to the sun. You were mesmerized watching him as the sun kissed down across his face and weren’t at all ashamed at being caught watching as he brought his attention back to you. A smile of your own growing to match the one he wore along with your mind fluttering in wonder of how he was even real. 

“If you’re my knight, Y/N I’m in a lot of trouble.”

You feigned hurt but couldn’t hide the grin happily splayed on your face and, crazy thing was, you didn’t want to. It felt impossible that the two of you were so giddy with each other. A strange familiarity brewed heavily between you to the point it felt like the two of you joked like this for years. 

Jungkook’s own smile enough to warm the chill that began to creep up your arms to expose goosebumps on your skin. The two of you fell into a shroud of companionable silence and continued to make your way back to the main entrance of the farm. Your heart skipping a helpless beat every time you feel Jungkook’s fingers graze across yours. Your mind hopelessly wanting to believe maybe, just maybe, he was tempted to reach out and hold it. 

You came back to the main farm and found your teacher and classmates impatiently waiting. The immediate shock your teacher showed at your appearance seemed to grow more intense until he came storming over: hysterical at your current condition. 

“What on earth have the two of you been doing?!” 

“They’ve been rolling around with pigs.”

You knew that tart voice anywhere and wasn’t surprised it was Amber that spoke. What did surprise you was how much you didn’t care with Jungkook standing like an equally filthy calm current by your side. 

“We’re sorry, seonsaegnim,” Jungkook began coolly with a bow. When he realized you were still standing a hand shot out to the back of your head to bring it down. You quickly slapped it away but kept yourself in a bow. “We got lost from the group and found ourselves stuck in a giant mud pit.” 

“It seems to me like you were playing in it,” the farmer chuckled. “I could hose them off before they get back on the bus.” 

His offer left heat rising to your cheeks. The sound of a sea of giggles making your stomach ache in embarrassment. You used the curtain of your hair to hide and hoped they’d come up with a different suggestion, but with a small shrug of his shoulder, Jungkook brought your heated attention back to him. A soft smile cracking the now dry handprint you’d left across his cheek. 

It was ridiculous. You both looked ridiculous, and yet, he was still handsome. You probably looked like a troll. 

“Hey Knight in shining armor,” he whispered. “It seems we get to take a bath together.” 

The sun couldn’t be anywhere near as hot as your face felt. The heat spread from red cheeks and down your neck until the butterflies in your stomach were out of control. Jungkook knew what he had done. He could see it plainly on your face and he loved it. 

You, on the other hand, wanted to hit him. 

And just like divine intervention your teacher did it for you. His curled up pamphlet struck down on top of Jungkook’s head, but it only made his smile grow impossibly larger.

“Ya! I don’t think so! We’ll have you go one at a time to clean up. I’ll look for something for you both to change into.”

Jungkook went first to be hosed down. The farmer actually allowed him to have his privacy so he could get into his more...private areas in peace. The clothes that were found for both of you to wear were old gym clothes thrown in a box in the storage bay at the bottom of the bus. You imagined they must have been thrown there for a reason. The colors were sad and faded down to a color that resembled the mud you’d fallen in. An even sadder rim of yellow wrapped around the sleeves the only hope of color in the terrible outfit you were now forced to wear. At least it was warm with the added bonus Jungkook somehow ended up with the shortest shorts in the box. 

After the two of you dried off and changed you were shepherded onto the bus. The place that held Amber and her minions now vacant due to the teacher demanding you sit exactly in the far back in their spot. He must have imagined it would be like putting two naughty kids in time out. The only effect it really had was giving you the chance to breathe and enjoy the solitude. 

Jungkook dug around for your earbuds inside your bag. Finally finding the small container and lifting it open. His fingers pulling out the left and surprising you by placing it gently in your ear. Your face must have shown this but Jungkook paid you no mind. He was busy placing the other bud into his ear; flipping the case shut and throwing it back inside to forever be lost until you practically tipped out your bag to locate it again. Oh well. A problem for another time. 

“Put on something for the ride home, Y/N. I trust you to be dj again.”

You wanted to tease him. To joke about putting on the YMCA or Macarena . The only thing that stopped you was the relaxed features of Jungkook’s face. The lazy way his neck rested back against the seat and his head languidly gazing in your direction. You tried to squish back all the butterflies that look gave you and a hushed, “Alright. Lady Marmalade it is,” embarrassingly came from between your lips. 

Your eyes were too focused on your music list. You didn’t allow them to look as he chuckled beside you. The sound light and rough all at once - demanding you give it attention. 

“Don’t make me regret it,” he joked. 

You kept scrolling until you found Deans’ “D (Half Moon)”. The soft piano and tone of his voice quickly filled the ear buds and by the soft hum of the voice beside you, you knew you’d pick a good one. 

You allowed yourself to relax beside him. Your right hand placing the playlist down between the two of you. Your body was so relaxed you didn’t think about moving your hand anywhere else. Your eyes falling comfortably closed as you continue to listen to the acoustics of the song and the even softer, and equally pleasurable, song of Jungkook singing along. 

When his left hand found its way down beside yours, you didn’t question his reasoning. The music held between the two of you and maybe he wanted to change the playlist. You let your mind continue to think that even after his finger gingerly grazed yours and found a home beside them. Both of your hands stayed this way the entire ride back to campus. Neither of you moved to change positions; lost to the sounds of the melodies of the playlist.

[atlafan]

Sweet Tooth - One Shot

a/n: dentistrry is here!! I only researched a couple of things, so if you’re in the dentistry/medical field please don’t come for me if things are inaccurate, it’s just a fic, you know? This ia really cute, sweet, datey fic, so I hope you enjoy! Feedback and reblogs are super helpful! (not proofread) Consider buying me a coffee if you’re able! 

Warnings: fluff and smut (the word molested is used, nothing bad happens or has happened to the main characters, it’s just mentioned during a conversation)

Pairing: Harry x OC

Words: 18K

“Dad, I can go by myself.” Abby groans to her father.

“I have to make sure everything gets billed correctly. Your dentist said only two are impacted, so only half is covered my medical and the other half is covered by dental.”

She huffs out a sigh, but nods her head as they enter Tufts Medical Center. Abby was finally getting a consult for her wisdom teeth. Perhaps at the age of twenty she felt a little late to the game for this, but her mouth had only started to hurt a little this past year. She was a little nervous about being knocked out for surgery, but she also just wanted her mouth to feel better. It was the summer before her junior year of college, so now was the perfect time to get it done. Abby and her dad make their way through the building, and get to the floor they need to be on.

“Abigail Simmons.” Her dad says to the receptionist and she nods.

“Someone will be out for her shortly. Did you have her most recent x-rays sent to us?”

“Yes.” Her dad says, and they both go to take a seat.

Abby’s leg was bouncing and she was chewing on her bottom lip. It was just a consult, there was really nothing to be worried about.

“Abigail?” Her eyes widen as she looks over at the person who just said her name. He had a toothy smile and was wearing a set of blue scrubs. She and her father both stand up. “Hi, I’m Harry, you can follow me.” He smiles to the two of them as he leads them to the consult rooms. He gets Abby situated in the dental chair. “Just so you both know, I am a student, but a competent one, which is why one of the other nurses isn’t here, but one of them will come by shortly, and so will the doctor.” He sits down on the stool and wheels over to Abby as he puts his gloves on. “Heard your mouth’s been sore, huh?”

“Y-yeah.”

“She called me at school in tears.” Her dad says and she glares at him.

“College student?” Harry raises an eyebrow and looks back at the computer to review her x-rays. “How old are you?”

“Twenty.” Abby says.

“Your teeth are, like, really straight. Did you have braces?”

“When she was in middle school. She stills wears her retainer.”

Harry and Abby both look at her father and blink. He was really starting to piss her off. She could answer for herself.

“Well, you’ve got a very good girl here, don’t you, Mr. Simmons? Listen, uh, this is going to take a few minutes. I need to look at all of her teeth and confirm the ones that are impacted and if the other two have room or not. There’s another waiting area right over there. I’ll call you back over once the doctor’s here. Would that be alright?”

“It’s just…Abby’s really nervous-“

“Dad, please, I’m fine.”

“Alright.” Her dad sighs. “I’ll be right over there.”

“Bit of a helicopter you have there.” Harry smirks at her.

“Thank you for getting rid of him. I bring myself to the doctor all the time, but for whatever reason he was adamant about coming to this.”

“It’s major surgery I don’t blame him.” Harry grabs a bib to put around Abby. “So, you go by Abby?”

“Mhm.” She blushes as he clips the bib in place and adjusts her hair.

“Is it true, are you nervous?”

“A little…mostly about the surgery, not so much about the rest. I’m not one of those people that’s afraid of the dentist.”

“No worries, love, you’ll be in good hands with us.” He smiles. “I’m gonna put the chair back now, alright?”

“Okay.”

The chair slowly goes back, and he situates a pair of sunglasses onto her before fixing the light over her eyes.

“Could you open up for me as much as you can? I’ll try to be as gentle as possible since I know you’re experiencing a lot of discomfort.”

She nods and opens up wide. She feels his pinkies enter her mouth and feel around her gums. She winces a few times when he brushes up against the back of her mouth. She hears him whisper sorry a few times. Abby tries to focus on anything else. She focuses on how green his eyes are, and how seemingly perfect his skin is. Her mind wanders to how people get skin like that. What’s his routine? How could she get skin as smooth? Does he see a dermatologist regularly?

“Okay, Abby, I’m gonna out the chair back upright, and go grab your dad and the doctor. Hope that didn’t hurt too much.”

“It was fine, thank you.”

Abby’s dad, two nurses, Harry, and the doctor all come over to her to discuss her teeth. She definitely needed all four removed. They settle on a date for her to come back and have the procedure done, and Harry gives her the rundown on how to prep for the surgery.

“We’ll see you in a couple of weeks, Abby.” Harry smiles.

“You’ll be here?”

“You bet.”

Even though she was nervous as fuck to go under, she was almost excited to see the handsome dental student again. At least it was something to look forward to.

//

Abby had an early morning surgery, and she had to stop eating the night before. So she was exhausted and starving, not to mention she was a ball of nerves. Her dad drove her in for the appointment, and assured her he’d be there afterwards.

“Abby?” Harry comes out all scrubbed up and ready to go. She stands up and waves back to her dad before going with him. He brings her over to a consult chair and types on the computer. “Alright, whatcha have for breakfast?”

“N-nothing, I haven’t eaten since dinner last night.”

“Good girl.” He says without looking at her. “And what about a midnight snack?”

“Harry, I haven��t eaten since dinner last night.”

“You remembered my name?” He asks as he turns to her, and she blushes.

“Sort of hard to forget the British guy that told my dad to go sit somewhere else.” She smirks, and it makes him laugh. “Will you be in the operating room?”

“Yup, I’ll be there the whole time. I’m the hand holder.”

“The hand holder?”

“Mhm, while they’re helping you get to sleep I’ll be holding your hand, making sure you’re alright. I also get to put the IV in your arm.”

“Lucky you.” She deadpans and it makes him laugh again.

“What are you in school for?”

“Psychology. I’d like to be the type of doctor that doesn’t have to deal with all this.” She gestures around the room.

“Helping people on a whole other level, I see.” He nods.

The doctor comes over, and she must have gotten asked about four more times if she had eaten breakfast. She gets settled in the chair in the new room where she’d be operated on. She watches as Harry gets the IV in her arm, and then he holds her hand, just like he said he was. He was wearing a mask now, but she could tell he was smiling.

“Don’t worry, Abby, the next time you wake up these nasty teeth will be gone.”

She nods at him and squeezes his hand as they get the oxygen hooked up to her nose. His thumb rubs the back of her hand as a nurse puts the mask over her mouth, and her eyes slowly start to droop. The last image she has is Harry’s hand in hers.

When Abby wakes up, her eyes immediately well up with tears as she looks around the room. She sees her dad sitting in a chair reading a magazine, and she sees the IV still hooked up to her arm. She makes a whining noise and her dad looks over at her.

“Hey, you’re awake.” He smiles. “Everything went really well, honey. You did great.”

After about ten minutes a nurse comes in and takes the IV out. In her daze she tried looking for Harry, but she couldn’t find him. She was so delirious she could barely walk, and her dad had to help her to the car. She just wanted to say thank you to Harry for holding her hand, but she never got the chance.

//

Several years later, Abby had finished her master’s degree in counseling, and just finished up her licensure program. She already had a few different job opportunities lined up. The one she wanted most was at a local university at a counseling center. Being a student in today’s age was tough, and Abby wanted to be someone they could open up to. She had done extremely well in her postgraduate internship, so she had impeccable recommendations. She just needed to narrow things down to what school she wanted to work for, and that ultimately came down to benefits. She ended up going with UMASS Boston. It was a school a lot of her friends attended, so she sort of knew the campus, it was easy enough to get to by train, and the benefits were great.

After getting the first semester under her belt, Abby was feeling confident in what she was doing. She was truly helping students. She’d even be able to go for her PhD for free after she had six months under her belt. With winter break underway, Abby was getting caught up on some self-care, which meant going in for her annual cleaning.

“Hello, this is MidCity General Denstistry, may I please speak with Abigail Simmons?”

“This is she.”

“Hi, Abigail, this is a call to remind you of your appointment this week.”

“Right, Wednesday at 3PM?”

“Correct, and I have to inform you that your usual dentist, Dr. Morgan, has recently retired.”

“Oh…I mean good for her, I just liked her a lot.” Abby chuckles.

“Don’t worry, our new doctor, Dr. Styles, is amazing and everyone’s really like him so far. He’s taking over all of Dr. Morgan’s patients.”

“Okay, that should be fine. See you Wednesday!” Abby hangs up the phone and puts an extra reminder on her phone so she wouldn’t forget.

On Wednesday, she checked in and was brought into the back by a nurse, Marie. She was the dental assistant that would be doing her cleaning, nothing out of the ordinary. Although, Abby was starting to get aggravated because Marie kept sticking the pick into the same tooth in the back of her mouth. She hears Marie sigh.

“Abby, it seems like you may have a cavity. Dr. Styles will be able to confirm it. Let me polish you up, and then I’ll go get him.”

Before Abby has a chance to respond, Marie was already polishing her teeth. She was left to lay back in the chair while Marie went to get Dr. Styles.

“Hello, Miss Simmons.” Abby’s eyes widen when she hears his voice. He sits on a stool and wheels over next to her. “I’m Dr. Styles, nice to meet you.” He extends his hand to her and she takes it. “Mind if I take a quick peak at everything else before I inspect this possible cavity?”

“N-no, go ahead.”

“Thank you, open wide for me.”

She does so, and he sticks his gloved fingers into her mouth, feeling around her gums, and making sure everything’s alright. Next he grabs the tools and does a quick inspection of her overall mouth before poking at the tooth that Marie said was the problem. Abby notices how he hum along to the music playing on the radio. It was almost soothing.

“Okay, I’m gonna hit the button so you can sit up.” He says to her. Marie moves the light, and Abby takes the sunglasses she was given off. Her eyes widen again when she gets a good look at him.

Abby had come into contact with a lot of people in her life since the time she was twenty. It would be odd to remember someone that helped with her oral surgery, but too much was adding up. A man with a British accent, the same green eyes, and he was in the dental profession. She was finally going to get a chance to thank him.

“You have a cavity.” He sighs.

“I’ve never had one in my life.” She shakes her head.

“Happens to the best of us.” Dr. Styles chuckles. “Are you eating a lot of sweets?”

“Um, well, I’m a counselor at UMASS Boston, and I tend to suck on jolly ranchers when I’m meeting with students. Helps remind me to just sit and listen and not interrupt.”

“Ah, that’s a pretty good trick. Maybe try sugar free gum?”

“No, gum gives me a headache.” She shakes her head. “I prefer to suck than to chew.”

“Right.” He swallows. “Maybe try sucking on some mints then?”

“Sure, I can try that.” She smiles at him.

“Good girl.” He smiles back at her. That just sealed the deal it was definitely him. “Marie here will help you set up an appointment so I can take care of this for you.”

“You’ll be doing the procedure?”

“Mhm, you’re stuck with me now…unless you want to switch to another doctor, which I hope you don’t. Hope you’re not missing Dr. Morgan too much.”

“Not as much as I thought, that’s for sure. Um…this may be a weird question, but did you happen to be a student at Tufts Medical Center?”

“I was! It’s where I went after I got my bachelor’s. I can perform oral surgery, but I much prefer doing stuff like this. Can fill a cavity in my sleep. How did you know I went there?”

“I…this is going to sound so weird, but, like, six years ago you…held my hand when I got my wisdom teeth out.” Harry’s eyes widen at that. “Normally I wouldn’t remember someone so well, but…it’s not every day I have a British doctor.”

“Oh, wow, you remember me doing that?”

“Yeah, and we left before I ever got a chance to say thank you for keeping me so calm. So…thanks.” She blushes.

“I wish…I wish I remembered that. They often had me as the hand holder. How nice for our paths to cross again, huh? Promise to be just as good a dentist as I was at holding your hand.”

“That’s all I could hope for.” She smirks, and it makes him chuckle. “Right, well, Marie, please help Miss Simmons set up her appointment with me so we can get this cavity filled.”

“Sure thing, Dr. Styles.” Marie says as she makes a few clicks on the computer.

Just like that he was gone. He had grown into quite the handsome man since she last saw him. Not that he wasn’t before, but he looked more adult now. She wondered how much older he was than her. More importantly, she wondered if he was single.

//

It was about a week later when Abby came in to have her cavity taken care of. Marie was the dental assistant again which brought Abby some comfort. Marie gets her prepped in the chair as they wait for Harry to come into the private room.

“Alright, good morning, Miss Simmons.” He says brightly.

“You can just call me Abby if you want…” She says shyly.

“Okay, Abby, it is. Let’s fill this cavity, yeah?” He sits on the stool and wheels over to her. “Gotta give you a spot of nova cane, but before I do that we have to numb the area a bit, so this little thing that looks like a lollypop is gonna go in.” Abby nods. “Open up for me.” She does so. “Good girl, thank you.” He places the numbing stick inside her mouth and she scrunches her face. “I know, it doesn’t taste very good, sorry.” He stands back up. “I’ll be back in about five minutes.”  

True to his word, Harry comes back five minutes later, and takes the numbing stick out of Abby’s mouth. Next he has her open up so he can administer the nova cane. He tells her she might feel a slight pinch, and she accidentally grabs onto his thigh.

“S-sorry.” Abby says as she takes her hand off him. “I may not be afraid of the dentist, but I really don’t like needles.”

Harry and Marie share a glance, and then Harry looks at Abby.

“Marie, would you mind handling the nova cane so I can hold Abby’s hand?”

“Sure thing, Dr. Styles.”

Harry hands the needle to Marie, and then Harry grabs onto Abby’s hand. He smiles softly at her, and she’s able to focus on him and not the needle going into her gums. Marie says it’s all set, so Harry gets back into position with the drill.

“If it hurts, just let me know and we can numb you a bit more.” Harry says to her. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

Abby pinches her eyes closed the second the drill comes into contact with her tooth. Thank god Harry was wearing a mask because he couldn’t help but smile at how cute she looked. Luckily, Abby didn’t suffer too much. The procedure didn’t take too long, and she was sitting upright before she knew it.

“You did great.” Harry smiles at her. “So, that side of your mouth will be numb for a bit. Give it a few hours before you eat anything, avoid hot foods.” Abby just nods her head along, too embarrassed to speak because she knew she would sound stupid. “Have you made your appointment for your next cleaning?” She nods again. “Great, Marie, I’m just gonna go over another few things with Abby, feel free to go on your break.”

“Oh, alright. See you in six months, Abby.” Marie smiles, and leaves the room as Abby waves to her.

“I actually already went over everything with you. I…uh…just wanted her to step out.” Abby’s eyes widen at that. “I was actually wondering, um, if you’d like to go out for coffee sometime…you know, when you can have hot liquids again.” He blushes and so does she. She nods yes at him quickly. “You do? Great, um, can I have your number then?” Abby frantically reaches for the phone in her pocket, unlocks it, and then hands it to Harry so he can add his contact. “I’ll call you in a couple of days so we can set something up, yeah?”

She smiles and nods as she takes her phone back. Her heart was fluttering. She felt like she was in a dream or something. Coffee couldn’t come soon enough.

//

Harry called Abby a couple of days later, just like he said he would, and they agreed upon what coffee shop they should meet up at on Saturday. Her mouth was feeling much better, and she was really excited to see him. She was still in shock that he asked her out in the first place. She thought she’d have to wait another six months to see him again.

He got to the coffee shop first, and decided to wait outside for her. He smiles when he sees her and they step inside.

“It’s on me.” He says. “Get whatever you like.”

“Oh! That’s so nice of you.” Abby blushes. “Thanks.” They each order and grab a table to sit at. It was too cold outside to go for a walk.

“I just want to preface by saying I’ve never asked out a patient before.” Harry says to her.

“So…why ask me out then?”

“I just found it really endearing that you remembered me, and all you wanted to do was say thank you to me for doing something so simple.”

“Harry, I had just turned twenty, I was practically still a kid. I had never gone under or had a surgery before, I was petrified. My dad was just as nervous, you were the only thing that calmed me down.”

“So, that would make you roughly twenty-six now?”

“Yes it would.” She smiles as she takes a sip of her coffee. “How old are you?”

“I’ll be thirty-two next month.” It was an age difference both of them might have been against those years ago, but not now. They were both well into adulthood, had their careers, and had some life experience under their belts. “It’s killing me that I don’t remember you.”

“It’s really okay. You’ve probably seen so many patients. I’m sure years down the line I won’t remember every student I’ve met with.”

“Right, you said you’re a counselor at…?”

“UMASS Boston.”

“And how do you like doing that?”

“I love it, honestly. I feel so bad for these kids, they have so much on their plates, under all this pressure. It’s really brave of them to come ask for help, so I like giving them a safe space. Some meetings are more serious than others, so it’s never boring. I feel like I’m doing something worthwhile.”

“That’s amazing. Feel like I do better talking to people in small spurts, that’s what’s so great about being a dentist. People can’t strike up small talk when you’ve got your fingers in their mouth.” He laughs and so does Abby.

“How long have you been at MidCity for?”

“Like…six months, I think. I like it a lot, everyone’s really nice. Marie’s my favorite assistant, though, sometimes her kids come in and they’re really cute, and her wife bakes the best brownies.”

“She’s usually the one to do my cleanings, I like her a lot too.”

“Can I ask why you chose jolly ranchers to suck on? I mean, how many students are you meeting with? You must go through a ton.”

“I do.” She blushes in embarrassment. “I got them when they were on sale after Halloween…I’m definitely going to try the mints like you said.”

“Good, I’m glad.” He smiles as he takes a bite of his bagel.

“So, how does a doctor such as yourself not already have a girlfriend?”

“Getting right to it, huh?” He smirks and she nods. “Medical school takes up a lot of time, and then when I first started as an intern, I was constantly overworked. I was doing surgeries left and right, I was too exhausted to try and make anything serious work. Then I decided I’d rather be working at a practice. I still do a lot of teeth pulling, but not as much as I was. And now that things have slowed down a bit, I just haven’t met someone I’ve wanted to be serious with.” He shrugs. “What about you?”

“Same thing, sort of.” She giggles. “Grad school was a lot, and then interning was a lot. Now I’m just really settling into my job. I survived the first semester, now I feel like a pro.”

“That’s a good feeling to have. Is your commute long?”

“Not really, I just take the green line to the red and I’m there. Obviously the trains can be unpredictable, but it beats having to pay for a car and car insurance. What about you? Are you in the city, or out in the suburbs.”

“Oh, I’m in the city. I drive to work, though, I’ve got my own parking spot at the back of the building.”

“Well, we can’t all be so special.” She smirks.

“No, I suppose not.” He smirks back at her. “How’s your tooth feel, by the way?”

“Oh, it’s fine, thanks. You’re really good at your job. It was nice of you to hold my hand when Marie did the nova cane.”

“I felt so bad that you were scared.” He reaches across the table and places his hand over hers. “When you grabbed onto me I knew I had to do something.”

“God that was embarrassing. I would have felt so violated if someone did that to me.”

“It’s not like you grabbed my dick, Abby, it’s alright.” He gives her hand a squeeze.

“Right.” She lets out a nervous laugh. “So, do you work a standard Monday through Friday at MidCity, or how does all of that work?”

“Yup, pretty much.” He takes his hand away from hers. “I mean obviously if there’s an emergency we have to cancel appointments, but for the most part we leave spots open for surgeries so people are able to book those easy enough. I usually pop by the cleanings in between cavity fillings and other stuff.”

“What made you want to become a dentist?”

“Well, I knew I wanted to work in the medical field, but selfishly I didn’t want the long hours at hospitals. I don’t have to be on call, like, I don’t have to worry about emergencies in the middle of the night. Not often, anyways.”

“I feel like I would get grossed out looking at teeth all day.” Abby chuckles.

“It’s not as bad as you think. I try to separate the teeth from the person. Like, I was able to give all new teeth to this recovering meth addict. She had this incredible story, and I knew I had to help. She had been sober for five years, but no one would hire her because of her teeth. Now she’s working a corporate job doing great.”

“Oh, wow, that’s amazing.”

“You must have some great stories with your students.”

“Yeah, I’ve really bonded with a few of them. Sometimes they just need someone on their side, you know? A lot of them are first in their family to go to school, so they’re doing a lot on their own.”

“That’s a lot of pressure.”

“You have no idea.”

“Well, it’s good they have a nice person like you to help them.” Harry smiles warmly at her and she smiles back. “Would you, um, would you be interested in going out for dinner some time?”

“I…yeah, I’d love to.” She blinks a couple of times. “I’m free most nights right now because we’re on winter break.”

“You don’t have to go into your office at all?”

“I just answer emails from home.” Abby shrugs.

“Sweet deal.” Harry grins. “So, how would Thursday night work for you?”

“Thursday works great.” She smiles.

They both throw out all of their trash and step out of the coffee shop. They share a gentle hug, and go their separate ways. Harry said he’d call in a couple of days to let her know where he’d be taking her, and she was beyond excited.

//

Friday night, Harry picked Abby up in front of her building. When he saw her, he got out of the car to open the door for her and she giggled.

“That’s a nice coat.” He says to her.

“Thanks, I got it on sale at L.L. Bean back in August. Keeps me nice and warm.”

“Oh, I love shopping there! Once in a while I’ll take the drive up to New Hampshire to go to the actual store to get the really good stuff. The boots I got from there for the winter will last a life time.”

“Yeah, it’s just good quality stuff. I usually get a decent coupon in the mail or online.” She chews her bottom lip. Clearly Harry had a little more money than she did. “Where are we eating?”

“You’ll love it, it’s this nice Italian place at the North End. I remember you said Italian was something you liked when we spoke on the phone.”

Abby smiles at him and he looks at her briefly to smile back. He finds a place to park, somehow, and they walk towards the restaurants. She hadn’t been to the North End in a while since most of the places were expensive. Harry puts his hand on the small of her back as they walk in, and he tells the hostess he has a reservation. She leads them over to a table for two and he pulls out the chair for her.

“So, how’s your week been?” Abby asks him.

“Pretty good, fit this one person with a new tooth, did a couple of crowns. Same old, same old.” He shrugs. “How about you?”

“Good, I did some virtual sessions with some students who are having shitty winter breaks. I went into the office for a team retreat, and then I updated some spread sheets.” She chuckles.

“That’s nice of you to do virtual appointments.”

“It’s all part of the job.”

“Good evening, folks.” A waiter comes over with water and a basket of rolls. “I’m Parker, can I start you off with any drinks or appetizers?”

“Abby, would you care to get a bottle of white for the table?” Harry asks her.

“Oh, sure, that’s be great. Would Pinot Grigio be alright?”

“It’s perfect. A bottle of Piniot Grigio, please.” He looks down at the menu and furrows his brows at the appetizers. “Calamari?” He asks her and she nods. “Calamari, Parker.”

“Sounds great, I’ll be back in a moment with the wine and to take your dinner orders.”

“The calamari here is excellent, it’s lightly fried in peanut oil so it doesn’t feel heavy.”

“What do you recommend for an entrée?”

“Everything’s good. What are you in the mood for?”

Abby looks down at the menu and her eyebrows raise at the prices.

“Maybe just one of these pasta dishes.”

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t get the cheapest thing on the menu. Get whatever you like, it’s my treat.”

“Harry, this is gonna be really expensive.”

“I wouldn’t have brought you here if I couldn’t afford it, please don’t worry about it.”

“O-okay, then…maybe the steak tips with the pan seared peppers.”

“If that’s what you want then you should have it.” Harry smiles. Parker comes over with the bottle of wine, and pours the first two glasses for them. “I’m really glad we could do this tonight.” He grins. “I…found something when I was going through some old things the other day.”

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow as she sips on her drink.

“It was killing me that I couldn’t remember you, but then it hit me.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a card. “I’ve never been so thankful to be a packrat in my life.” He opens it and smiles. “Dear Harry, I never got a chance to say thank you when you held my hand before my surgery. I figured I’d drop this off when I came in to have my stitches removed. I hope this finds its way to you. You’re going to be a great doctor someday. Sincerely, Abby Simmons.” He smiles at her as he places the card back in his back pocket.

“You…you kept that?”

“It wasn’t often I got cards like that, so I kept it, and once in a while when I needed a pick me up I’d read it. As soon as I re-read it the other day I completely remembered you. I even remembered telling your dad to go sit in the other waiting room.”

“Oh my god.” Abby chuckles. “That was the greatest thing I had ever seen. Think that solidified the crush I had on you.”

“Telling your dad to basically leave you alone?”

“Yeah.” She smirks. “Super hot to see you be so sure of yourself and confident. Plus, he was really pissing me off, talking over me and answering for me.”

“Wow, so I guess I’m the one that away, huh?” He smirks.

“You certainly were. Although, I hadn’t thought about you in quite some time. It’s crazy that you ended up becoming my dentist.”

“Very crazy.” Parker comes over with the calamari and tells the two he’s going to put their orders in now. Harry watches as she sticks her fork into a piece and takes a bite. “You’re really cute, you know that?”

“I’ll take your word for it.” She smiles. “This is really good.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

The rest of the date goes really well. Abby and Harry continued to joke around and flirt. It wasn’t until the check came that she felt a little uncomfortable.

“How much is it?” She asks him nervously.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He smirks and slides his card into the slot, letting Parker take it. “Would you like to walk around for a bit, maybe get some dessert by the water?”

“That sounds great, but only if I can pay for dessert.”

“Deal.” He smiles.

Harry holds Abby’s hand as they walk through the little park by the water. Even though it was cold out, it was still a beautiful night. They duck into a gelato place for a little dessert. They decide to split something, which ends up being insanely romantic when Harry lifts his spoon to her lips. She makes a show of it as she takes a bite, licking her lips after and everything. He holds her hand during the drive, and lets her pick the radio station. He gets out and walks her up to the door once they get to her building.

“I had a lot of fun with you tonight.” She says to him.

“Me too.” He steps closer to her. “Do you see a third date in our future?”

“Definitely.” She nods. “Do you like bowling?”

“Love bowling. Are you, um, free Saturday night?”

“I can be.” She smiles. “Pick me up around seven?”

“It’s a date.” He smiles. The two stand there awkwardly for a moment, unsure if they should kiss or not, so instead Harry opens his arms for hug, and she wraps her arms around his neck. She kisses his cheek, and then he kisses hers. “I’ll see you Saturday, Abby.”

“See you Saturday, Harry.”

//

Harry was on cloud nine the next day at work. He couldn’t stop thinking about Abby, her smile, her laugh, the little beauty mark she has under right eye. He thought she was gorgeous, charming, and kind. Normally he’d never get involved with a patient, but he couldn’t help it with her. He thought it was so sweet that she remembered him after all this time, and he felt so relieved that he remembered her.

“You’ve had this dreamy look on your face all week, what’s with you?” Marie asks Harry while they’re eating lunch.

“I…sort of met someone, and we’ve been out a couple times…she’s great.”

“That’s great! Anyone I know?”

“Um…well, you know Abigail Simmons…”

“Of course I know Abby! Oh my god, is that why you asked me to step out of the room when you filled her cavity?!”

“I didn’t wanna ask her out in front of you.”

“Harry, since when do you date patients?” She whispers.

“Normally I wouldn’t, but it turns out I met her a long time ago. When I was a student at Tufts I assisted in removing her wisdom teeth.”

“Oh, wow, that’s incredible.” Marie blinks. “When are you seeing her again?”

“Tomorrow night. We’re going bowling, how fun is that?”

“Should be really fun.” Marie grins. “Look at you, putting yourself out there. Now Leigh and I can stop trying to set you up.”

“I’m excited about her. She’s got such a cool job too. I can’t wait to keep getting to know her.”

//

Since they were going bowling, they could easily just take the train, so Harry takes a cab to Abby’s building Saturday evening. He was wearing a nice pair of jeans and a sweater under his jacket. She comes down the stairs in her long coat, and a Patriots hat on top of her head.

“Hey.” He smiles at her, taking her in for a hug. “How are you?”

“Good.” She smiles up at him. “How are you?”

“Good, great, actually.” He takes her hand and they walk towards the nearest t-stop. They both swipe their Charlie Cards and hop onto the next train.  

“I hope you’re okay with candle pins��I’m not good with the big balls.” Abby says to him as they hang onto the same pole of the crowded train.

“I love candle pinning.” He chuckles. “No worries.”

They get to the bowling alley, are given a lane, and get their shoes. Abby takes her hat off and fixes her hair, and then unzips her jacket. She had a pair of jeans on with a red turtleneck. Abby was a short, curvy thing, and Harry absolutely loved it. When Abby first met Harry back when she was twenty, she was a tiny size two, but now she was a comfortable size eight and was fully embracing it. She was healthy, and that was all that mattered.

“Do you want anything to drink? I could get us a pitcher of beer.” Harry says to her as they settle into their lane. “I could get us some pizza too.”

“That sounds great, thanks.” She smiles as she slips her shoes on.

“Be back in a tick.” Harry goes over to the snack bar and gets two slices of pizza and a pitcher of beer. “Here we are.” Harry fills two of the plastic cups up with the beer, and hands one to Abby. “Shall we?”

“Mhm, I already set up the score sheets.” She shows him the large sheet of paper. “Not that I care that much about the score…it’s just fun to keep track.”

Abby bowls first, knocking most of the pins down, and then gets the rest on her second throw. Harry couldn’t help but smile as he watched her to do a little jog and hop as she threw the ball down the lane. He goes up next and immediately gets a strike.

“Woohoo! Go, Harry!” Abby says as she takes a sip of her beer. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a strike before.”

“I could show you how if you want.”

“Isn’t it just luck?”

“Nope, it’s all physics.”

“And…you’re good with physics?”

“Had to take it during pre-med, I even tutored for it. Come on, I’ll show you.” Abby gets up and grabs one of the balls. Harry goes behind her, and puts his hand on one of her shoulders, moving her hair so he can speak closer to her ear. “Okay, so what you’re gonna want to do is walk a little closer to the line, swing the ball back, and let it fly.”

Abby turns slightly to look up at him. Her cheeks were flushed. She nods at him, and does exactly what he said to do, and she gets the strike.

“Oh my god!” She squeals and throws her arms around him. “I can’t believe that worked! You’re amazing!” She kisses his cheek.

“You did great! Nice to know you’re good at following directions.” He winks at her and grabs his next ball.

After three rounds of bowling, and two pitchers of beer, they both head out. They take the train back to the stop nearest to Abby’s apartment, and Harry walks her home.

“I had so much fun tonight, Harry.”

“Me too, I’m glad you suggested bowling.” They both stop in front of her steps. “Can I see you again next weekend?”

“I’d like that.”

“Maybe if it’s not too cold we could go ice skating at Frog Pond.”

“Oh, I’d love to do that! I have my own skates and everything.”

“Perfect.” He smiles and steps closer to her. She looks up at him with her big brown eyes. He didn’t think brown eyes as beautiful as hers existed. “Abby, can I kiss you?” He asks softly.

“Yes.” She nods and smiles up at him.

He cups her cheek and leans down to her. His lips press to hers, and he uses is other hand to cup her other cheek. It’s soft and gentle at first, it grows a little needier as she presses her body to his, but she stops him from walking up the stairs. She pulls away first and blushes.

“Um, well, goodnight.” She says to him.

“Yeah, goodnight.” He rubs the back of his neck. He was sorting of hoping she’d invite him up. It was the third date, after all. Maybe she was a fifth date kind of girl, which he had to respect. “I’ll call you at some point during the week. I’ve got a few different surgeries, though, so if you don’t hear from me a lot that’s why.”

“No worries.” She shrugs. “I’m getting ready for the students to return, and I have some meetings to go to, some seminars, so I’ll be busy myself. Wanna just plan for next Saturday?”

“Sounds good to me.” He leans again to kiss her again, and she happily kisses him back.

“Okay, goodnight for real.” She giggles and walks up her steps. She waves goodbye as she goes into her building and he sighs.

Abby sighs happily as she gets into her apartment and squeals. She immediately texts her best friend everything about her date with Harry. She was so excited about him, and couldn’t believe he was actually interested in her.

//

They texted here and there during the week. Abby got a little brave and sent him a mirror selfie of her dressed up for work, and he sent one back of himself in his scrubs ready to go in for surgery. Her jaw nearly dropped when she saw him. She had seen him in scrubs before, but it was ages ago. He filled them out so differently now. Plus, the thought of him being a doctor just did things to her insides that she couldn’t even describe. He thought she looked gorgeous in her pin striped slacks and blouse. He couldn’t but think about how lucky each student was that got to sit and talk with her.

Harry was exhausted by the end of the week. He must have extracted over a dozen teeth, filled a stupid amount of cavities, and put on ten different crowns. He couldn’t wait to see Abby Saturday. He asked her to go to the pond a little earlier in the evening so they could get dinner afterwards. The decided to just meet at the pond. She was easy enough to spot now that he knew what her long coat and Patriots hat looked like.

“Harry.” She smiles when she turns to see him. They hug and share a quick peck on the lips. “Did you catch up on some sleep?”

“I did.” He sighs as they find a bench to sit down on to put on their skates. “Been looking forward to seeing you all week. How’d your seminar go?”

“Oh, it was great! It ended up being more of a training, I have a new certification too.”

“That’s amazing, good for you. I’m constantly going to lectures and stuff to stay up to date. I’ve published a couple of things too to some medical journals.”

“That’s so cool! Once I’ve been at UMASS for six months I can start taking classes for free. I’m gonns go for my doctorate, so hopefully I can start publishing some work too.” They both stand up and make their way into the rink. Abby puts her hand out for Harry’s and he takes it as they start to glide on the ice.

“That’s great that they have a program like that for you.”

“I know! I was super happy when I saw that in the benefits package.”

They skate around the rink a few times, enjoying the music that was playing. Harry guides them over to the side for a little break. He presses her against it, his hands going onto the railing, caging her in. She looks up at him, and he leans in to kiss her. She tugs on his coat to pull him closer, and the kiss deepens slightly. Abby really liked kissing Harry. He always tasted like mint, probably because he was constantly chewing gum, and his lips were insanely soft. She starts smiling and so does he, and he presses his forehead to hers.

“Do you feel like going to eat now?” He says to her.

“Yeah.” She nods.

They end up going to a Mexican restaurant not too far from the pond. They each get margaritas and laugh a lot. Harry talks about what it’s like to extract teeth during a surgery, and Abby asks if people ever want to see their teeth afterwards. He asks Abby how she copes when she has to deal with a heavier situation at work, and she says her little Shih Tzu, Marvin, helps make her day a lot better.

“That’s nice your apartment allows pets.” He says to her.

“Yeah, he’s only, like, nine pounds, if that. He’s so cute, do you wanna see a picture?”

“Of course!” Abby pulls out her phone to show Harry a few pictures of Marvin, and even a selfie she took with him. “He’s so cute, and so are you.”

“Thanks.” She giggles.

“He looks like a little stuffed animal.”

“He really does.”

“Why a Shih Tzu?”

“They’re really smart. They’re tough to train because they’re so stubborn, but once they get a little older they start to listen, and they’re pretty self-sufficient alone during the day. Although, sometimes I sneak him into the office.”

“How old is he?”

“About two. Do you have any pets?”

“Nah, I’m not home enough to take care of anything else. But I love dogs, I think they’re great.”

“Well, maybe at some point you can meet little Marv.”

“I’d like that.”

They square up the tab and Harry walks Abby home once again. They kiss for a while outside her front door. He desperately wanted to feel her tongue on his, but she wouldn’t open her mouth up. His hands squeeze at her hips, and she tugs on his jacket like she had done earlier.

“Well, I better get up inside.” She says against his lips and he hums his response as he continues to kiss her. She giggles into him. “Harry.” She smiles and steps back from him.

“Sorry, I just really like kissing you.”

“I like kissing you too.”

“When can I see you again?”

She takes her phone out to check her calendar.

“Are you free on Friday?” She asks as she furrows her brows at her screen.

“I think so. We could go to dinner, if you like. There’s this really great Chinese place in China Town that I love going to if you’re interested.”

“That sounds great, Harry.” She smiles. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Maybe…um, maybe we could meet up for lunch, or something at some point during the week.”

“Do you have time for something like that?”

“I’m sure I do. I can look at my calendar and let you know which day works best.”

“Okay.” She nods. “I’d love to meet up for lunch.”

“Great.” He leans in to kiss her again. “Hope you and Marvin have a good night.”

“Oh, we will. He’s probably antsy for me to get up there and give him all the cuddles I can. Text me when you know which day works for lunch.” She smiles and heads inside.

Harry couldn’t believe a little dog was going to be getting all of her cuddles tonight and not him. She was slowly killing him. He respected that she might want to take things slow, but to still not invite him up? He sighs and orders an uber back to his condo, hoping he’ll be able to fall asleep easily, and not stay up thinking about the girl who was slowly creeping her way into his heart.

//

Abby was able to meet up with Harry on Tuesday, but only for a quick walk, which she thought would be a great opportunity for Harry to meet Marvin. She gets his sweater and harness on, leashes him up, and out the door she goes. Harry was standing outside her building, in his scrubs, and a jacket, with two hot chocolates.

“Thank you.” She smiles and takes the warm drink from him. “Harry, this is Marvin.”

“Aw.” He pouts, and squats down to put his hand in front of Marvin’s nose before he pets him. “Nice to meet you little guy.” He looks up at Abby. “He’s even cuter in person.”

“Right? I’m really excited we could get out for a little bit today. He loves when I can take him for a good walk.” Harry stands back up straight and they all start walking. “Were you in surgery today?”

“Yeah, early this morning, and I’ve got another one later this afternoon. Didn’t make much sense for me to put my other clothes back on.”

“You look cute in your scrubs.” Abby says, a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

Harry nudges her and he looks down at Marvin.

“He’s pretty quiet, huh?”

“He was yappy when I first got him, but he’s calmed down a lot. First summer I had him I spent a lot of time training him. Pretty much taught him not to bark unless someone’s trying to break in.”

“You must be good with discipline then.”

“I try to be. Although, I’m more of a fan of positive reinforcement.” They pull to the side as Marvin takes a tinkle near a fire hydrant. “Good boy, Marvin.” She says and gives him a kibble as a treat. “Kibbles are great treats. Can’t get fat off what he normally eats.”

“That’s really smart. Have you, uh, been laying off the jolly ranchers?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Dr. Styles, I didn’t realize we were in your office.”

“Abby…”

“I’ve been trying to, but I have a horrible sweet tooth. They’re the only candy I really eat. What’s the harm?”

“Your teeth rotting out?”

“Okay, good point. I mean, I haven’t had nearly as many since I’m not really meeting with students right now, and I’ve already gone out and bought a ton of mints for the next semester.”

“Good girl, that’s what I like to hear.”

“What do you say to your male patients?”

“Pardon?”

“It’s just…you say good girl a lot…do you do that with all your female patients, and if so…what do you say to your male patients? Also, I’m an adult woman. Do you say good girl to all adult women?”

“Abby.” Harry chuckles. “I think I’ve only ever said that to you.”

“Oh, fuck off, I bet you say it all the time.”

“I really don’t.”

“Then why me?”

“You’re cute, and I tend to be a flirt sometimes.”

“You consider calling me a good girl flirting?” She stops short and he turns to look at her.

“I do.” He nods, a smirk growing on his lips. “Do you want me to stop saying it to you?”

“N-no.”

“Alright then.” He grins and they continue walking until they get to Marvin’s turn around spot, and make their way back to Abby’s building. “I’m glad we got to meet up for a bit. Still on for Friday night?”

“Definitely.” She goes up on her tip toes to kiss him goodbye and inside she goes. Harry left her with butterflies in her stomach.

//

Harry was really hoping tonight would be the night something more happens between him and Abby. He just wanted to feel her body on his. He drives to her place around seven Friday night, and he waits outside the car for her.

“Hello, beautiful.” He says to her as she steps outside.

“Hey.” She smiles and kisses him. He opens the door for her and he jogs around the other side to get back in. He takes her hand in his as she drives towards China Town. “How was your day?”

“Good, really busy, but good. I tend to get a lot of kids on Fridays since it’s an easy day for them to miss school.”

“I bet the little kids love you.”

“They do, I like being goofy with them.” They get to the restaurant, and are seated. “Do you want to share a few things?”

“Sure, that sounds good.” She smiles. “I hardly ever come out here, how’d you find this place?”

“When I was at Tufts I used to come to China Town all the time since it’s close by. I got sick of eating at all of the same places, so I decided to come around here and branch out. This is obviously nicer, but I like it a lot.” They decide which dishes they want to share, and tell the waitress when she comes over. They both also order a couple of drinks. “The semester’s starting soon, right?”

“Yeah, on Monday, actually.”

“Oh, wow! Do you feel ready?”

“For the most part.” She nods. “The first week is usually quiet, and then I start to get booked out. That’s how it was last semester, anyways. I already have some of my regulars from last semester on my calendar for next week.”

“I bet they’re excited to see you, I know I would be.” He places his hand over hers and gives it a squeeze. “Abby, um, after dinner…I was wondering if you’d like to come back to my place for a bit.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you to offer, but I don’t want to leave Marvin for that long.” She takes a sip of her drink. “Another time, though.” She smiles and he nods at that.

A food runner brings their dishes over, and luckily nothing feels awkward, but Harry was sort of hoping that she’d offer to have him over after dinner instead. They both enjoy the food, and share a few laughs before heading back to Harry’s car. When he pulls up to her place they both linger for a moment.

“Thanks again for dinner, Harry, I had a great time.”

“Me too.” He looks at her. “Can I ask you something?” She nods yes at him. “Are you, uh, seeing anyone else? It’s okay if you are, we never said this was exclusive, I guess I’d just like to know.”

“No, I’m not seeing anyone else. I would have told you if I was dating around. Are you seeing anyone else?”

“No.”

“Okay.” She smiles. “Good to know.” She leans across the console to kiss him, and he kisses her back. He turns his body more so he can cup her jaw. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“I…I don’t think so, I mean, just usual weekend errand type stuff. Might be grabbing drinks with some friends in the evening, why?”

“I was just thinking maybe, um, you could come over for dinner, but if you’re busy-“

“I can cancel. I can get drinks with them any time.”

“Don’t be silly.” She smiles. “We can do it another night. We’ll figure it out. I better get upstairs.” She pecks his lips. “Goodnight.” She gets out of the car, leaving him speechless. He wanted to rip his hair out at this point.

//

“Harry, how things going with that girl you’ve been seeing?” Greg asks him as they sit in a booth at the bar.

“Yeah, you still like her?” Lenny asks.

“Things are going well.” He nods. “But I can’t seem to figure her out. We’ve been out, like, six times and she still hasn’t invited me up to her place. I invited her back to mind last night, and she said she didn’t want to leave her dog alone for long.”

“Have you kissed?” Greg asks.

“Yeah, we’ve kissed plenty of times. We just haven’t done anything else. I mean, we don’t need to jump right into bed, but it’d be nice to do a little more.”

“I get what you’re saying, man.” Lenny says. “Maybe she’s just nervous.”

“I didn’t think I was giving her a reason to be.” Harry sighs. “She invited me over tonight, but I stupidly told her I had plans with you lot.”

“What are you doing with us then?! Go pick up some dessert, and go get your girl!” Greg says.

“I can’t just show up at her place…I’ll look like a stalker. What if she’s not even home?”

“So text her.” Lenny shrugs. “See if she’s around and ask if you can stop by. Tell her you’re at bar in the neighborhood.”

“But I’m not. She’ll know I’m lying.”

“Dude, just text her and see if she’s around.” Greg says.

Harry takes out his phone and types out a text. He hesitates before hitting send.

Harry: Hey, Abby! Are you home? I’m finishing up with my friends a bit earlier than I thought…maybe I could bring some dessert over?

Abby: Hey! Yeah, I’m home, snuggled up with Marv. I’d love it if you came by, especially if there’s dessert involved lol

Harry: Great! I can be by in about 30 minutes

Abby: sounds good! See you soon

“Alright, I’m gonna go up to the bar and get a lava cake to go. Thanks for being so cool about this guys.”

“No worries, H.” Lenny says. “Good luck.”

Harry races to Abby’s once he’s gotten the cake, and she buzzes him in. He knocks on her door, and she opens it for him.

“Hey.” She smiles and steps aside. “Come on in.”

“Thanks.” He pecks her cheek. “Hope you like chocolate lava cake.”

“Love it.” She takes it from him. “So…this is it. It’s just a studio.” She blushes. “But the kitchen is its own area, which is nice.”

“It’s great.” He smiles at her. “You’ve definitely utilized the space.”

There’s a large monitor mounted on the wall, a desk underneath it with Abby’s laptop, and an HDMI cord connecting both. There’s a small couch a few feet back, and then her bed is up against the opposite wall. Everything was neat and tidy.

“I use this wireless mouse as a remote, and I have a Fire Stick.” She says. Marvin comes trotting in from the kitchen. “Marv, you remember Harry. I’m just gonna stick this in the kitchen. Feel free to make yourself comfortable.” She walks into the kitchen as Harry sits down on the couch. Marvin jumps up to sit in his lap.

“Hey, little guy.” Harry pets his head and scratches behind his ears. Abby comes back out. She looks really cute tonight. She was wearing glasses, her hair tied to the side in a braid, leggings and an off the shoulder sweater. “Hope I’m not intruding on your cozy evening.”

“Not at all! I’m really glad you texted, actually. Did you have fun with your friends?”

“I did, yeah.”

“Are they dentists too?”

“Mhm, we lived together while we were in medical school. Lenny and Greg.”

“Where do they both work?”

“At other practices around the city. Greg’s actually an orthodontist. They’re both junior partners, though, I’m the first of the three of us to become a senior partner at a practice. Guess that was the one good thing about Dr. Morgan leaving MidCity.”

“You’re so successful.” She bites her bottom lip and looks down at Marvin in Harry’s lap. “Look at that, you’re here five minutes and he already liked you better than me.” She reaches and takes Marvin from Harry, snuggling him to her chest before putting him on the ground.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“Oh, I don’t. They’re just blue light blockers.” She takes them off and sets them on the side table next to the couch. “They help a lot when I’m on the computer for a while.”

“Ah.” He nods.

“What’s your place like?”

“I’ve got a condo, uh, it’s a three bedroom, but I use one as a home office.”

“Wow, good for you.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t always get to live so comfortably.”

“You’ve earned it, I bet you work really hard.” She smiles.

“I’m sure you work hard too.”

“True.” She nods. “But I’m paying off loans, and this is all I can really afford.”

“It’s a great place.” He assures her. “I wish the studio I had when I first started out was half as nice as this. I certainly didn’t keep things as neat as you.”

“Oh, I just rushed around to clean things up before you got here. It was a mess.” She laughs.

“I’m glad you were cool with me coming by.” He puts his hand over hers, rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand. “I’ve been having a great time with you this last month.”

“Me too.”

“My birthday’s next weekend, and…um, a ton of us are getting together at this pub…I’d love it if you could come.”

“Oh! Sure, would it be Saturday?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m there, I’d love to go. That’s so nice of you to invite me.” She leans in and kisses his cheek.

He looks at her, his eyes locking in on her lips. He leans in and presses his lips to hers. Her arms go around his neck to pull him closer, her fingers tangling with the curls on the nape of his neck. His arms wrap around her, hands splaying on her back to have her chest pressed to his. He lightly sucks on her bottom lip, and she opens up wider for him. He nearly groans as he licks into her, finally. She tugs on his hair as her tongue molds to his. One of his hands slides down her back and around to the front of her stomach. He just about reaches the band of her leggings when she grabs his hand, and moves it to her hip. He gives a squeeze and she whimpers into him. He plants kisses along her jaw to her earlobe, nibbling on it gently until he kisses on her neck. He mouths at her skin before sucking on her and she gasps.

“Don’t leave a mark.” She grunts, and she feels him nod against her skin. “H-Harry, is this the only reason you wanted to come see me tonight?” She blurts out and he stops to look at her.

“What? No.” He shakes his head. “I genuinely wanted to see you and split that cake. And…I mean…yeah, I’ve been wanting to do a little bit of this.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I like you a lot, Abby, I can’t help it.”

“I like you a lot too.” She gives him a soft smile. “We can keep kissing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.” She nods and brings her hand to the back of his neck to pull him back to her. This time she nibbles on his bottom lip and his hands go to her hips, squeezing and kneading. “Mm, but I don’t wanna go any further than this…not yet anyways. I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course it is.”

“I just…sort of wanna see where this is going before something so serious happens between us.”

“I get it.” He smiles. “I know you’ll be worth the wait.”

//

Harry: hope the first day of the semester has been treating you well!

Abby couldn’t help but smile at her phone. She knew Harry was extremely busy at work, so the fact that he took a moment to text her meant so much. The only thing was he texted her during a staff meeting, and her colleague Maya noticed her goofy smile.

“Abby, how was your break?” Maya asks her after the meeting.

“It was good! Um, I sort of started seeing someone.”

“Shut up! That’s amazing, who is it, how’d you meet?”

“His name is Harry…he’s, um, my dentist.”

“Oh, my, a doctor?”

“Yeah.” Abby nods. “We actually met years ago when he was still a student, and he just so happened to take over for my other dentist who apparently retired. It’s been a little over a month. He’s super nice, and funny…and he’s really fucking handsome.” She says the last part quietly.

“Good for you. Do you have a picture of him?”

“There’s one on the practice’s website. I haven’t, like, taken a selfie with yet. Although, I wish I had when he took me ice skating.” She pulls up MidCity’s website on her phone and shows Maya.

“Holy shit! He is handsome.”

“It’s going really well too. He’s met Marvin, and he invited me to his birthday party this weekend.”

“Wow, so you’re gonna get to meet his friends already?”

“I guess so.” She smiles. “The only thing is…do I get him a gift? And if so, what do I get him? I feel like it should be casual because everything’s so new still, but if it’s too casual he might think I’m not as into him as I am.”

“Shit, yeah, that’s a tough one.” Maya steps further into Abby’s office. The girls were close, so they were used to talking about personal things. “Have you slept with him yet? You could wear something for him to unwrap.”

“No, we haven’t.” Abby sighs. “I’m trying to take things slow with him because I really like him. We’ve made out a couple of times…”

“So…is that a no?”

“I don’t know, birthday sex as a gift? I feel like that’s so…cliché or something? Plus, I feel like he’ll be expecting it. I want it to feel more special than that.” She bites her bottom lip in thought.

“Oh! Have you been out to eat with him much?”

“Yeah, a ton, why?”

“Did you notice him order any specific types of alcohol?”

“Yeah! On our first real date he had this really nice bottle of white wine ordered to our table. It was delicious, and he loved it. I remember what it was, I could just get a bottle of that and a card, right?”

“I think that’s a totally acceptable gift. It’s sentimental, so it shows you put some thought into it, but also casual enough to show you’re not a psycho.”

“Exactly.”

Abby: you’re so sweet! It’s been a little busy with meetings and stuff, but other than that no fires to put out. Thanks so much for thinking of me, I hope you’re having a good day too! 😘

//

Harry didn’t want Abby to walk into the pub by herself, so he said he’d pick her up on his way. She insisted he didn’t need to, but he insisted that he did. She had a black dress on with black tights and blue heels. She zips up her long coat and runs her fingers through her hair. Her phone buzzes with a text from Harry that he’s downstairs with the uber. She takes a deep breath, grabs her gift, and heads downstairs.

“Happy birthday.” She smiles and gives him a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks, beautiful.” He opens the door for her and goes around to the other side. “Is that for me?” He points to the bag she’s settled into her lap.

“Maybe.” She shrugs a shoulder.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.” He places his hand on her thigh.

“I said maybe, so this could easily not be for you. I guess you’ll find out later.” She side eyes him and it makes him laugh.

“How was your first week back to campus?”

“Exhausting.” She sighs. “But I caught up on sleep this morning. Everyone was excited to see Marvin.” She chuckles. “And it was good to see my friends and students.”

“That’s good.” Harry smiles.

“What about you? How was your week?”

“Busy. I had four different surgeries, a ton of cavities, and a fuck ton of cleaning check ins. I think a lot of college kids were getting in their bi-annual visits before going back to school.”

“Ohhh, yup, I bet that’s what it was. Is there ever a time of year you’re super busy?”

“I would say summers I do a lot of wisdom teeth removals, so I get bogged down there. Everything’s pretty consistent, though.”

“So, who’s going to be at this party?”

“My friends Greg and Lenny, who are very excited to meet you.” Harry smiles and gives Abby’s thigh a squeeze. “Some people from work, you know Marie, and Dr. Morgan’s going to be there as well. Some other med school buddies will be there. I’m only thirty-two it’s not really a big deal.” He shrugs.

“I’m excited to meet your friends too.” She smiles. “And it’ll be good that I’ll know a couple of people so you won’t feel like you have to babysit me.”

“Aw, babe, I wouldn’t feel like that. I wouldn’t leave your side if that’s what you wanted, no worries.”

She nods and smiles nervously at him. He just called her ‘babe’ and it filled her tummy with butterflies. The driver pulls up in front of the pub, and Harry gets out first so he can open Abby’s door. She smiles at him as he puts his hand on the small of her back to lead her inside.

“There he is!” Greg exclaims. “Happy birthday, H!” The two hug.

“Thanks, mate, this is Abby. Abby, this is Greg.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” She says to him.

“Same to you, you’re even lovelier than Harry described.”

Abby giggles at that, and Harry leads her over to the coat room. It seems the whole pub had been rented out for his party. There was a small table for gifts, so she sets hers down.

“Wow, you look amazing.” Harry says, rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

“Thanks.” She smiles and leans in to peck his lips. “Wanna introduce me to some other people?”

“Yeah, come on.” He takes her hand and leads her back to everyone.

Abby gets introduced to Lenny, and some of Harry’s other doctor friends. She then gives Dr. Morgan a big hug, and she says hello to Marie and her wife. Harry gets Abby a glass of wine, and much to her surprise, he keeps his arm hooked around her waist for most of the evening. He clearly wanted her close by. His friends were kind, not at all arrogant, which was a tad unexpected since there were a lot of people with deep pockets in the room. Maybe doctors weren’t as snotty because they also had large student loan debts. They engaged her in conversation, asking about her work, and why the heck she wanted to spend her time with Harry, which made a lot of people laugh. Harry lit up when he was explaining how he and Abby actually met ears ago, and he talked about the card she had sent along to him, making her blush a bit. Everyone found the story to be quite endearing.

“Are you having a good time?” Harry asks Abby as they go up to the bar together.

“I am, your friends are great. Are you? It’s your birthday.”

“I’m having a wonderful time, even more so since you’re here.” He kisses her cheek and hands her a new glass of wine.

A tray of cupcakes is brought out, and everyone sings happy birthday to Harry. He blows out a few candles and thanks everyone for coming. The cupcakes were delicious, clearly from a nice bakery. Harry notices Abby getting a little bit of frosting on the corner of her mouth, and before she can grab a napkin, he’s catching it with his thumb and sucking it into his mouth. Her eyes widen as he winks at her.

“Th-thank you.” She says, clearing her throat.

“Don’t mention it.” He pecks her lips. “I was wondering something…”

“What is it?”

“Would you like to come home with me tonight? I thought it would be nice to spend some time alone after being so social.”

“Oh, um, yeah, I’d like that.” She nods.

“Will Marvin be alright without you?”

“Yeah, my, um, neighbor’s kid is actually watching him tonight. She’s a great pet sitter. I…I told her I may not be coming home tonight, so she’s fully prepared for a sleepover.”

Harry’s smile grows, and he kisses her again. After making the rounds to say goodbye to everyone, getting their coats, gathering all of the gifts, the two get into an uber to head to Harry’s condo. There’s a doorman that says hello to Harry and gives Abby a warm smile. She follows him through the lobby to the elevators. They step inside, and Harry hits a number on one of the higher floors. He leads her to his door, and he gets it open. She follows him into his living area, and they set his gifts down. He takes her coat for her, and hangs it up in his front closet.

“This is…a really nice place.” She says as she looks around.

“I’ll give you the full tour in a moment, I’ve been dying to open your gift all night.”

“Oh.” She blushes. “It’s really nothing special.”

He gives her an unconvinced look, and grabs the bag he remembers her bringing. They both sit down on the coach, and she watches him reach inside.

“A card, classic.” He smirks and sets it aside. He reaches back inside and pulls out the bottle of wine. “This is one of my favorites! How did you know?”

“I remember you ordering it when we went to that Italian place.” She smiles and he hugs her.

“Mind if I open it, or have you had enough for the night?”

“I’d love some.”

“Great! Just hang tight.”

Harry goes into the kitchen with the bottle. While she’s waiting patiently on the couch, Abby hears music come on. She sees a Bluetooth speaker light up, he must have turned it on from his phone. He comes out with two glasses of wine, and hands her one as he sits back down.

“Thank you.” She says as she takes a sip.

“No, thank you. This was really nice of you. You’ve got a great memory.” He takes a sip and sets the glass down on a coaster on his coffee table. She does the same. “My friends adored you, by the way. I’ve already got the texts to prove it.”

“I’m glad I made such a good first impression.” She inches closer to him.

He reaches to tuck some hair behind her ear, and he leans in to kiss her. She wraps her arms around his neck, and opens her mouth for him. One of his hands falls to her thigh as the other one cups her cheek. Her fingers work their way into his hair, and he squeezes her hip.

“Abby.” He breathes, and moves to kiss on her neck, just under her earlobe.

She lets her heels fall off as she pushes him back farther on the couch. She moves to straddle one of his thighs, and she brings her lips back to his. His hands move up and down her back until they reach just above her bum. She grabs his hands and moves them down to her ass. He groans into her as he squeezes, loving how plump she is. She kisses along his jaw and to his neck, and she rolls her hips down onto his thigh. He raises it to help press into her. She whimpers into his neck, and he cups her cheeks so she’ll at him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bedroom?” He asks softly.

“I don’t wanna go to sleep yet.”

“I didn’t think you did.” He smirks.

“No, I just…I mean, if we go in there…that’s all I’ll want to do.”

“Sleep?” She nods her head yes. “Oh.”

“Harry, I’m sorry.” She sighs. “I know it’s your birthday, and you were probably hoping for some…stuff to go down between us, but I think we should wait a little longer. Is that okay?”

“Abby, I wasn’t expecting us to do anything. I mean, if we had of course it would have been nice, but it’s okay.” He assures her. “I’m just happy you wanted to come back with me.”

She leans back in to kiss him, and they continue to grope each other as they kiss. Their tongues swirl around each other, and she continues to rock back and forth on his thigh. She lets him puts his hands on her breasts, and he kneads them through her dress. He moves her to lay down on the couch and he settles himself between her legs as he hovers over her. He kisses on the tops of her breasts that were now spilling out of her dress. He sucks and bites on the plushier areas, eliciting a moan from her.

“H-Harry, maybe we should cool it before you turn me into a leopard.”

He chuckles against her and pecks her lips before he sits up.

“Would you spend the night?”

“I’d love to.”

He helps her up off the couch and leads her to the bedroom. He flips the switch for the lights, and her eyes widen. His bedroom was neat, almost a little too neat. She raises a suspicious eyebrow at him.

“I…um, have a housekeeper.” He clears his throat. “Let me just grab a few things for you. I’m assuming you’ll want something to sleep in?”

“Please.” She chuckles, watching him move to his dresser for a tee shirt and pajama bottoms.

She follows him into his en suite as he opens the closet inside to look for a spare washcloth and toothbrush. He sets everything down on his double vanity and smiles at her.

“Use whatever you need, beautiful.” He kisses her cheek and steps out to give her some privacy.

Abby strips herself of her clothes, and then washes her face. She brushes her teeth, runs her fingers through her hair, and then puts on the clothes Harry set aside for her. They were so soft and smelled just like him. She sighs happily and makes her way back into his bedroom. He smiles at her and stands up from the bed.

“Get comfortable, I’m just gonna do my thing.” He tells her and she nods. “There’s a spare phone charger on that side of the bed if you need it.” He points to the right side and she smiles.

When he’s done in the bathroom he comes out in a pair of plaid bottoms, but he’s gotten rid of his shirt altogether. He was littered with tattoos which really surprised her. She thought he only had the one little cross on his hand.

“When did you get all of those?” She asks as he gets into bed with her.

“All of what? Oh! My tattoos? Years and years ago, when I was a stupid teenager.” He chuckles. “Haven’t added to the collection in a while.” He looks down at himself. “Do you, uh, not like tattoos?”

“No! I think they’re really cool.” She furrows her brows as she scans his chest. “They’re so interesting.”

“Thanks.” He smirks.

“Did they hurt?”

“Some more than others. You sort of get used to it after a while. I’m assuming you don’t have any?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “Just a few piercings.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” She tucks some hair behind her ear. “Got my cartilage, and three holes in each lobe.”

“Noticed those, I love the earrings you wear.”

“And…” She pulls the blankets back a bit and pulls the shirt she’s wearing up slightly to reveal her belly button. “Got this done when I was twenty-two. I always wanted one and said fuck it.”

“It’s cute.” He smiles as he admire the jewel attached to her naval. “Now that had to have hurt.” He says as she puts her shirt back down.

“It honestly wasn’t as bad as I thought. It was just a little pinch, the guy took really good care of me. I was a little light headed after, and it was sore for a few days, but other than that it was fine.”

They stay up talking for a bit until they eventually fall asleep. Abby had moves to rest her head on Harry’s chest, and that’s how she fell asleep, to the smooth rhythm of his heartbeat. Harry couldn’t remember the last time someone spent the night in his bed and it didn’t involve sex, there was something sort of sweet about not doing anything and still be able to fall asleep together comfortably. Maybe there was something to this taking it slow thing.

The next morning, Abby woke up being spooned by Harry. His breath was fanning over the back of her neck, and he had a leg between hers. His arm was strung across her lower stomach lazily. She grabs her phone and sees that it’s about 8:30. She yawns and wiggles a bit to adjust herself. She feels his lips press a kiss into the back of her neck and his arm tightens around her stomach.

“You awake, darling?” He coos and it nearly makes her melt.

“Mhm.” It’s all she can manage to say.

“Good morning then.” He kisses the back of her neck again.

“Good morning.” She rolls over to her other side to look at him and he gives her a sleep smile. He leans into peck her nose, and he rubs at her side.

“Sleep alright?”

“Yeah, did you?”

“Mhm.” He nods. “I’m gonna wash up and then make us some breakfast, how does that sound?”

“Sounds amazing, Harry.”

He gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. When he comes out he’s thrown a shirt on, and Abby gets up to freshen up herself. She washes her face and brushes her teeth, putting her bra on under the shirt he had given her so she wasn’t putting on a show for him. She comes out to his kitchen and smells fresh coffee. She wanted to roll her eyes as she saw him using a French press.

“Hope you like hazelnut, it’s the only flavor I’ve got.”

“It’s perfect. Got any creamer?”

“Mhm, in the fridge.” He points to it and she opens it up, grabbing the creamer on the top shelf. It was pretty much full.

“I don’t use it myself, mostly keep it for guests.” He pours the coffee into two mugs.

“Ah, and do you have guests often?”

“None that I’d want to have a sleepover with, if that’s what you’re asking.” He kisses her cheek, and she pours the creamer into her coffee. “Now, what can I make you? What do you like for breakfast?”

“Oh, nothing fancy.” She shrugs. “Whatever you feel like making is fine.”

“Eggs and toast?”

“Works for me. Can I help?”

“You can help by just having a seat.”

Abby smiles and sits down on one of the stools at Harry’s kitchen island while he works to get the eggs out of the fridge. He ends up making scrambled eggs for the two of them to keep things quick. It was a pleasant breakfast. Abby thought it was cute that Harry genuinely read from the morning newspaper. She was resting her chin on her palm watching him.

“Anything interesting going on?” She asks him.

“Nah, it’s all negative.” He sighs as he flips a page.

“Could I have the funnies?”

“Sure!” Harry finds the chunk with the comics and slides it over to her.

“Thanks, I used to look forward to this every Sunday when my dad would pick up The Globe.”

“What was your favorite?”

“There was this one called Opus. There were all these different characters, and the story was pretty linear, which I thought was cool. I actually saved the last comic strip in a scrap book. The main characters, Opus the penguin, had gone missing or something and he was trying to find himself. It really tugged at my heartstrings.”

“Sometimes I forget not all of the funnies are just for kids.”

“I’m also partial to Family Circus, and I loved Zits.”

Harry smiles and goes back to reading the paper. He liked going over the sports and arts sections most. Abby helps him clean up the dishes and then she goes to get dressed.

“Do you want some sweat pants to wear so you don’t have to put all of that back on?”

“No, I’m okay. I’m just gonna put the dress on.”

“Won’t you be cold without the stockings?”

“I’ll be alright, but thanks.”

“Let me at list drive you home.”

“Okay.” She nods.

The ride was comfortably quiet as Harry kept his hand in Abby’s. He pulls over to the side to stop in front of her building, and they look at each other. Smiles grow on both of their faces.

“You already know what I’m going to ask.” He says to her.

“I know, but I wanna hear you say it.”

“Alright, when can I see you next?”

“Hmm…what about Tuesday night? We could go to a movie. Tickets are cheaper on Tuesdays so we can splurge on snacks.”

“I like the way you think. I’d love to go to a movie. You pick, and just tell me what time I need to meet you.”

“Sounds good.” She leans in to peck his lips. “Talk to you soon.” She gets out of the car and heads up to her apartment. Chrissy, the teenager watching Marvin, was sitting on her couch watching TV. “Hey, Chrissy. I already paid you on Venmo.”

“I saw! Thanks so much.” She stands up.

“Thanks for watching him all night.” Abby scoops up Marvin and cuddles him to her chest. “I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Not at all, he was great. He was my little study buddy.”

“Perfect. Well, enjoy your Sunday. Tell your parents thanks too.”

“I will, have a good day.” Chrissy heads out and Abby sets Marvin back down.

“Alright, Mumma’s gonna take a shower and then she’ll take you for a nice, long walk, sound good?” Marvin yips excitedly at her. “S’what I thought.”

//

Harry was fucked. He was running late and couldn’t get to a phone because he was in the middle of a surgery. Of course the one time there’s a few delays and complications he actually has somewhere to be. He was supposed to meet Abby at 6:45PM, it was already 6:30, there was no way in hell he was going to make it. He did his best to stay focused so he could do right by his patient. By the time he was done it was 7:45PM. He tried to call Abby, but her phone went right to voicemail.”

“Shit.” He says to himself.

“Dr. Styles.” Marie says. “You should change, you’re still scrubbed up and you have blood on you. Go home and shower, she’ll understand.”

“I just wish she’d turn her phone on…”

“Maybe she went to the movie alone.” Marie shrugs. “She could be one of those good people who actually turns their phone off.”

“Right, yeah. I’m gonna freshen up here, and then I’m gonna try to catch her outside the theater.”

Harry does just that, using the hospital locker room to have a quick shower. He rushes to the movie theater and waits outside. The movie they were supposed to see should be wrapping up any moment, so he goes into the lobby to watch for her. Hopefully she was actually there.

Abby throws out her trash and walks towards the main lobby. She was just turning her phone back on when she saw Harry standing there with a very apologetic look on his face. She sighs and walks over to him.

“I’m so sorry.” He starts. “I tried calling as soon as I could, but your phone went right to voicemail.”

“I turned it off when the previews started.” She chews on her bottom lip. “What happened?”

“My last surgery of the day got delayed, and then there were some complications…everything’s fine now, but it wasn’t an easy extraction. I had to really take my time, I’m so sorry. I swear this won’t happen a lot.” He looks down at his shoes and then back to her. “Was it a good movie at least?”

“It was alright.” She sighs. “Would have been better if I had someone to make comments to.” She nudges his shoulder.

“How can I make it up to you? Are you hungry? We could-“

“I already ate, it’s okay. I know you didn’t do anything on purpose. It’s getting late, so I’m just going to head home.”

“I feel terrible.”

“Don’t.” She smiles. “Shit happens.”

“Let me at least take you home, I drove here.”

“Sure.” She takes his hand in hers as they walk out of the theater. “Are you hungry?”

“Starved, actually, but I can just eat when I get home.”

“Don’t be silly, I have leftovers. You can come up and eat if you want.”

“I’d like that.”

Once they’re up in her apartment, Harry plays with Marvin while Abby heats up her leftover stir fry and rice. She hands Harry the warm bowl and they both sit down at the small table she has in her kitchen.

“Is it hot enough?” She asks him.

“It’s perfect, thank you.” He eats a little and then looks at her. “I really do feel terrible that you waited and had to sit alone…”

“It’s really okay. It’s not my first time going to the movies by myself.” She shrugs. “I’m pretty independent.”

“I just don’t want you thinking this is something that’s going to happen a lot. It’s so rare for a surgery like this to not be timely.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” She gives him a reassuring smile. “It’s really sweet you still showed up at the theater like you did. We’re together now, that’s all that really matters.”

Harry finishes eating and cleans up his bowl. He stands with his hands in his pockets by the door and she stands with her arms crossed. Neither were sure what to do. It was really too late to hang out any longer since they both needed to work the next day.

“Are you free Friday night?” He asks her. “We could go to dinner if you like.”

“Sure, that sounds nice. Wanna say seven?”

“Works for me. I’ll pick you up then.” He caresses her cheek and kisses her. They both linger for a moment before letting go. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” She sighs after he leaves. It sucked being at the movies alone, but it meant the world to her that he still showed up at the end. It really showed his character, and for that she was grateful. She was still trying to gauge what kind of guy Harry was, and she had finally come to the conclusion that he was a good one.

//

“Two months and still nothing?” Greg asks Harry one Sunday evening as he and Lenny came over to watch the hockey game.

“Yeah.” Harry sighs as he sips on his beer. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love kissing her and, and she’s let me touch her over her clothes, but…I don’t know, she’s not as desperate and grabby as I am. What if she’s just not as into me?”

“I don’t think she’d be seeing you still if she wasn’t into you.” Lenny says. “How old is she again?”

“Twenty-six, why?”

“Well, maybe she’s hoping for things to be a little more official before she goes all the way with you.”

“Define official.” Harry mutters.

“Maybe she wants to know if you’re her boyfriend.” Lenny states.

“God, do you really think she’s hung up on some stupid label? We’re dating, we’re together, I think that’s pretty clear.”

“Remember when I dated that younger girl? She was, like, twenty-three?” Greg says and the guys both nod. “Well, she wanted to know what the status was after a few months. Obviously it didn’t work out because of the age difference, but these things matter to the younger women. They wanna know what to refer to you. Boyfriend is a lot easier to say than having to say the guy I’m seeing.”

“So, you have to ask yourself, do you want to be Abby’s boyfriend?” Lenny asks him. “If you don’t see things working out long term with her you should break it off.”

“I definitely don’t want to break it off. I really like her, and I like spending time with her.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m going to her place on Thursday for dinner, maybe we can talk about it then.”

“Yeah? She cooking for you again?” Greg asks.

“Mhm.” Harry smiles. “She really likes cooking for me, I don’t know why. I don’t mind it, she always makes something delicious.”

“Do you ever cook for her?” Lenny asks.

“Sure.” Harry shrugs. “We take turns.”

“That’s good, those things should definitely go both ways.” Greg says. “I bet you she just wants to make sure you’re not going to up and leave the second she lets you hit it.”

“I don’t know why she’d even think I’d do something like that…”

“Maybe she’s been burned in the past.” Lenny shrugs. “Have you had the ex talk?”

“No.” Harry shakes his head. “It doesn’t seem like something we’ve needed to talk about…but maybe we do.”

//

Thursday night Harry goes over to Abby’s with a bottle of wine and a box of chocolate chip cookies. He liked bringing dessert the times she made dinner for him.

“Hey.” She smiles and kisses him once he’s inside. She must’ve had a long day at work because she was still in her work clothes. Most times when Harry came over she had already changed into comfier clothes. “How was your day?”

“It was good, how about yours?” He hands her the wine and cookies and follows her into the kitchen.

“Long.” She sighs. “I had some heavier appointments today.” She blinks a few times. “I…I cried with a student today.” She looks at him, tearing up.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry, come here.” He opens his arms for her and she’s comforted by his embrace. He rests his chin on the top of her head. “Are you allowed to tell me what happened?”

“Yeah.” She sniffles and looks up at him. “This male student…he had a rough go of it in high school. A teacher…molested him, and it was this whole thing. He’s from a small town in Vermont so everyone knew. He came here to get away from it, you know? Make a fresh start? He’s started to see this girl that he really likes, and he’s petrified of her finding out, and he’s not sure if he should just tell her or if he should keep it to himself. But he’s afraid she might find out anyways somehow. I felt terrible. I mean, what kind of sick fuck uses their position of power over a kid like that, you know?”

“That’s…awful, beyond awful.” Harry frowns down at Abby.

“I just couldn’t keep it together, especially when he started crying, so I cried too. Then we both started laughing, and he was able to calm down and we talked about things more.” She steps back from Harry and wipes under eyes.

“I guess the upside is that you created such a welcoming environment that he felt safe enough to be so vulnerable with you.”

“Yeah.” She nods. “I suppose that’s a silver lining, thanks.” She smiles. “Anyways, we’re going to meet bi-weekly now just for little check ins.” She sighs and moves to stir the pot of pasta that’s on the stove. “I’m making pasta and meat sauce, hope that’s alright.”

“It’s great, Abby. Can I do anything?”

“No, everything’s just about done. Um, would you actually mind taking Marv out quickly for me? He just ate and I haven’t had a chance to take him out to do his business.”

“You got it.”

It wasn’t Harry’s first time taking Marvin out, so he really didn’t mind. He leashes him up and takes him down to the street. Marvin does his business, and Harry gets him back upstairs. By the time he comes back, Abby’s plated up dinner, and gotten the wine open and poured.

“Thank you.” She says to him, and leans down to pat Marvin’s head. “Ready to eat?”

“Mhm, thank you for cooking.”

“Oh, it was nothing.” She smiles. “I like when we get to have dinner together.”

“Me too, babe.” He takes a bite of food and moans. “This is amazing, Ab.”

“Thanks.” She blushes and takes a sip of her wine. “Harry, um, there’s something I…well…I’m just gonna come right out and say it.” She takes a deep breath as he looks at her. “Am I…am I your girlfriend?”

Harry’s concerned face softens into a smile.

“I’d like you to be.” He says to her. “I was actually going to bring this up tonight, guess you beat me to it.”

“Oh.” She says, a little surprised. “Well, good, okay.” She nods and takes a bite of food.

“I like you a lot, and I know it’s been a couple of months. I’m still having a great time with you.”

“Same here!” She assures him. “I just, you know, I don’t know what to tell my friends sometimes when they ask about you.”

“Well, now you can tell them about your boyfriend, yeah?” He smirks. “When do I get to meet these friends, hm? You’ve met all of mine.”

“That’s true.” She chews her bottom lip. “Well, I could arrange for a night out at a bar some weekend. We all love going out to dance and stuff…”

“Sounds like fun.”

“You’d be into something like that?”

“Sure, why not?”

“You just don’t exactly seem like the type of person who would enjoy going to a stuffy club with a ton of drunk people.”

“Hey, I know how to hang. Set it up and I’ll be there.”

“Great, I’ll text them.” She smiles, her body was buzzing with excitement. Harry stands up abruptly and comes over to her side of the table, cupping her jaw. He slots his lips over hers, sucking on her bottom lip and then letting her go before he sits back down. “Wh-what was that for?”

“Just wanted to give my girlfriend a kiss.” He shrugs, a smirk forming on his lips.

“Oh.” Her face had to be beat red at this point. They look at each other and smile. This time it’s Abby who decides to be bold. She gets up and sits on his lap side saddle. She grabs her phone and opens up SnapChat because it was better for taking selfies.

“What are you doing?”

“We hardly have any pictures together. Now that you’re my boyfriend that’s going to change. Smile.” She says to him, and he does as she says, taking a very cute picture.

“Send that to me?”

Abby presses her lips to his. Getting through dinner was going to take a little longer tonight.  

//

Harry could, in fact, not hang. It was midnight and he was fighting to stay awake. He wished Abby had planned their big night out with her friends for a Saturday not Friday. It was a long week, and Harry just wanted to go to bed. He thought her friends were interesting. There was Billy, Abby’s absolute best friend. Billy happens to be trans, which Harry didn’t care about at all because Billy’s life was none of his business. Then there was Amy and Gina, Abby’s roommates from undergrad. They were all getting along fine, but the club was loud, packed, and sticky. Abby was having a good time, though, so what could he do?

“Another drink, Harry? Next round’s on me.” Billy says to him.

“Oh, no thank you. Think I’m gonna cool it.”

“Cool it?” Amy scoffs. “The night just started. Ab, hold old did you say he was again?”

“Don’t tease him.” Abby hooks an arm around Harry’s waist. “He’s thirty-two, a doctor, and he had a long week.” She looks up at him. “You’ve last two hours, go home if you want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll call you tomorrow.” She puckers her lips and he kisses her.

“It was really nice meeting all of you. We’ll have to do it again sometime…maybe on a night I didn’t have two different surgeries.” He kisses Abby again. “Text me when you get home so I know you got back safe?”

“Will do, bye, babe!” Harry heads out, and Abby looks back at her friends. “He’s cute, right?”

“Very.” Gina says. “He seemed like he was having fun at the beginning.”

“He’s just tired.” Abby sighs. “We should have waited until tomorrow. He really is a lot of fun.”

“I’m sure he is.” Billy says with a smile. “So, you really haven’t slept with him yet?”

“No.” Abby shakes her head.

“What’s the hold up?” Amy asks.

“I just haven’t felt ready.” Abby shrugs. “He’s a really good kisser, though, so I know I’m close to getting there with him.”

“You haven’t even sucked his dick?” Gina asks.

“No, but I’ve felt it. We grind on each other a lot. But I always have us stop before it gets to be too much.”

“I’ve literally never known you to not want to fuck a guy you’ve been seeing.” Billy says.

“I know…I just…it all just feels like a dream come true still, and I’m afraid that once we do it something will go wrong and we’ll stop seeing each other. I have no idea why I feel like that, but I do.” Abby says.

“He’d be an idiot to let you go.” Amy says. “Do it when you’re ready, but I think I speak for the three of us when I say we approve of him.”

“Thanks, that means a lot.” The four share a group hug and go back out to the dancefloor to enjoy the rest of their night.

//

It was a rainy Saturday at the beginning of April. Harry told Abby to bring Marvin over to his place so they could get cozy for a lazy day of watching movies and being cozy. She happily accepted. The two of them really needed a day to relax. Abby was booked solid at work right now, and Harry was starting to get booked out with more and more wisdom teeth appointments. Harry liked when Abby would bring Marvin over. He had gotten a little dog bed for him and some toys. Harry even got him a little food and water bowl.

Abby was really falling for Harry. He made her feel safe, and he was beyond considerate. She also couldn’t believe how patient he was being. They were together three months, just entering the fourth, and they still hadn’t had sex yet. She knew he wanted it, of course, and she really wanted it too.

They were curled up on the couch together while Marvin was snoozing on his little dig bed. Neither had ever watched The Mindy Project before so they were binging it. Abby couldn’t believe what she was about to do, but she couldn’t help from blurting it out.

“Harry?” She looks up at him.

“Yeah?” He looks down at her.

“I…I love you.” His eyes widen as he looks at her, his mouth falling open. “Oh my god, it’s too soon, right? I…I…I…” Before she can ramble on anymore, he’s kissing her, hard.

“Christ, Abby.” He presses his forehead to hers. “I love you too.” He kisses her again.

“Really?”

“Of course I do. You couldn’t tell? I’ve got your picture framed on my night table, and I’ve got all this stuff here for Marvin, and I keep your favorite snacks in the pantry…”

She moves to straddle him, pushing his shoulders back into the couch. She slots her mouth over his, and he holds her close to him. She sucks on his bottom lip, making him groan.

“Harry, bring me to your bedroom, now.”

“Y-you wanna go to sleep?” He looks at her confused.

“No, I want you to fuck me.” She looks at him with dark eyes.

“Really?”

“Yes!”

He doesn’t question her again. Instead, he lifts her up and quickly carries her down the hall to his bedroom. He gets her on the bed, hovers over her, and starts by getting her shirt off. His eyes widen when he sees the lace bra she was wearing. He furrows his brows as he gets her leggings off. He glares at her when he sees that her panties match her bra.

“What is it?” She asks innocently.

“There’s this old saying that goes along the lines of if the girl’s wearing matching underwear, then she’s the one who decided to have sex.” Abby blinks at him. “Were you planning for this tonight?”

“I was hoping.” She sits up on her elbows. “I…I’ve been fucked over before, and I really wanted to make sure I knew how we felt about each other before we did this. I’m sorry that I made us wait so long.”

“Don’t be sorry, baby.” He caresses her cheek. “I’ll admit I was a little frustrated in the beginning, but…I’m sort of glad we waited. It’ll be more special now.”

“Exactly!” She beams at him. “Can…can we get back to it now?”

He chuckles and takes his shirt off and pants off. He hovers over her and kisses on her neck and chest. He reaches behind her to unhook her bra, and tugs it away. His lips wrap around one of her nipples, and he licks around it. He sucks on her, and it makes her moan. He licks over to her other breast, and sucks on her other nipple. She pushes his head closer to her chest and tugs at his hair. He kisses and nips his way down her soft tummy. She lifts her hips as he tugs her panties off. He opens her legs and sucks a bruise into her thigh. She gasps at that and groans. He licks a flat stripe up her slit and to her clit. He does this a few times, just to get a good taste of her.

He looks up at her as his tongue flicks back and forth on her clit. He presses a hand on her pelvis and pushes up so he can see her better. He sucks on her clit and she moans out. His fingers work around her folds, feeling her wetness, and then he slides his middle finger in. He gets his ring finger in as well, and starts to pump in and out of her. He moans into her as his hips rut against the bed. She grabs at his hair as his fingers start to rub against her front wall. Abby starts panting and breathing heavier.

“Fuck, Harry, please don’t stop!”

He groans into her as his answer, and keeps doing everything exactly the same to help get her there. Her hips move along with his face, and her body starts to feel warm all over. She cries out as she comes to her release. He retracts his fingers, and he sucks on her wet center before sitting up. She catches her breath and smiles at him. He smiles at her and gets his boxers off. She whimpers when she looks at his hard dick. She crawls towards him and wraps her hand around him. She kisses his tip and wraps her lips around him.

“God, I’ve been dreaming about this.” He groans as his head rolls back while she starts to bob up and down on him. She goes down enough to choke on him, and then she pulls off. “Do you want me to use a condom?”

“No, I’m on the pill. I wanna feel you.”

He nods and gets back onto the bed with her. She opens her legs back up for him, and he rubs the head of his cock along her folds and clit. Her hips press up towards him in anticipation. He slowly presses into her, and her mouth falls open.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking tight.” He grunts as he bottoms out.

“Move.” She tells him. “Move, Harry.” She whines, and he starts to rock in and out of her. She clutches at his biceps and digs her nails in. “Oh my god.” She moans.

“Feels good?”

“Feels amazing.” She bites her bottom lip. “Go harder.”

“Yeah, want me to fuck you hard?”

“Fuck, yeah, really give it to me.”

He gives her a wicked grin, and then pulls out of her. He flips her onto her stomach and slides back in. He grips the back of her neck, and his other hand rests at the base of her spine. He takes a deep breath, pulls out almost all the way, and then snaps his hips back into her. She gasps, and he does it again. He smacks her ass, and continues to fuck into her hard. The hand at the base of her spine slides around to her clit and he rubs it. It doesn’t take her long to lose it again. He pulls out and sits up against his headboard. Abby sinks down on him as he grips her hips. They move in sync together as she rides him. She licks into his mouth and they both moan. His hands grab all over her body, unsure of where he liked squeezing the most. He fondles her breasts for a bit before deciding to stick with her ass.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this, Abby.” He says as he kisses on her neck. “I want you to come for me again.” He snakes a hand between them so he can rub her clit again.

“Fuck, yes, oh my god, Harry!” She grinds faster on him. “I want you to come inside me.”

“Shit, fuck.” He moans out and they come at the same time. “Fuck, Abby.” He breathes and kisses her, sucking on her bottom lip. Her fingers tangle back into his hair.

“Was it, um, worth the wait?”

“Oh my god, of course it was. I wanna fuck you over and over.” He smirks at her and she giggles.

“I think that can be arranged.” She pecks his lips. “Would you ever want to, um, tie me to the bed?”

“Oh, baby, if I didn’t love you before.”

[gukyi]

the heiress and the hotelier | ksj

summary: when you share a kiss with a mysterious but gorgeous stranger on the night of your unwanted, lavish masquerade birthday party, the last thing you expect is for him to vanish at midnight on the dot. but when, as punishment for always arguing with him, your father assigns you to oversee the company’s newest resort hotel, you begin to realize that the handsome stranger may be closer than you think.

{cinderella!au, heiress reader!au, hotelier seokjin!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 21k warnings: alcohol consumption (nothing major), workaholic characters, face blindness, idiots to lovers a/n: hello and welcome to guyi is a nonstop writer!! that’s the fuck right !!!! thank you so much to @aurawatercolor​ for commissioning me for this (again!) and for being genuinely wonderful. happy birthday! oh--and i’ll be on a socially-distanced vacation this upcoming week, so i’ll be a little more inactive than usual, but here’s this fic to keep you occupied while i’m gone!

Your birthdays have never belonged to you.

Not when you were little, when your mother was always the most excited for you to open your presents and host your birthday party. Not when you were older, and your parents started using your age as a reason for you to start learning the inner workings of the family business under the understanding that you would one day inherit it. And certainly not when you’re an adult, when all your birthdays ever remind you of are the years gone by, blowing past you like dandelion wisps, glimpses of memories that are too nimble to catch between your fingertips. 

When people say that time goes by faster as you get older, they aren’t saying it because your life is getting exponentially more interesting with each day that passes. They aren’t saying it because you’re having more fun or doing more things, things that distract you to the point of looking out your window and realizing that it’s dark outside. 

They say it because the more years that you have lived, the more years you have to remember. And when you have to recall something as overwhelming as your life, your brain makes shortcuts. The days, weeks, and months blur together, leaving behind snippets from events that your memory deems worthy, events that have become less and less frequent with time. You can’t remember the last major celebration you had. Perhaps your university graduation?

The thing about birthdays is that you know that there will always be one next year. So why bother with celebrating now?

You would give anything to have everyone pretend that your birthday is just a normal day. 

Unfortunately for you, you are the only one in your family who seems to have adopted this mindset. 

Heaving out a sigh, you look at yourself in the mirror, reflection bathed in the white light of the bathroom, stark and unforgiving. In the merciless glow of the bathroom, you barely recognize yourself. Gone are the deep eye bags that you’ve so dearly acquainted yourself with, tired eyes covered with contacts to bring back the shimmer that has long been lost. You gaze into your eyes and they don’t even feel like they’re yours anymore. 

In your hand sits the masquerade mask you had ripped off the moment you entered the bathroom, having been desperate to take it off from the minute you arrived at the hotel. The feathers brush against your skin, soft and black, a custom-made accessory designed to match your gown, an ink black floor-length piece with onyx gems that sparkle silver in the light. 

Hoseok was going for a black swan theme—said that it would match your personality perfectly. You’re not exactly sure what he meant by that. 

Frantically, like there is a timer ticking down inside of you that you cannot turn off, you pull the mask back on, adjusting it over your eyes until it sits just right, resting atop the bridge of your nose. Hiding behind it, you can almost deceive yourself into thinking, if only for this one night, you are someone else. 

The door swings open next to you, revealing a guest that you don’t recognize, someone on the list of hundreds that your mother invited, none of whom you know very well and could certainly not identify beneath a masquerade mask. She smiles in that polite, awkward way as she rushes into a stall, deep maroon train trailing behind her, leaving you stuck between a rock and a hard place, having no desire to go back out into the fray but also not wanting to stay in the bathroom and listen to other people do their business. 

Thank God she didn’t recognize you. Your mother was insistent that you be recognized as the guest of honor despite the whole point of a masquerade party being the inability to correctly identify people, so you might as well be walking around in a t-shirt with your face on it. At least the mask is doing something. 

You blink at yourself, hoping that maybe if you close your eyes enough, when you open them you’ll be someone else. When that doesn’t seem to work, you take a breath and fix your mask one last time before heading back into the ballroom. 

Immediately, amongst the crowd of people, all of whom are only here to elevate their own statuses by being associated with an event hosted by your family, you spot the back of Jungkook’s head, deep brunette tufts of hair deftly styled by a whole team of people, a slicked back, Phantom of the Opera style. He’s got on a tuxedo and mask to match, but even with that on you could recognize him in your sleep. He is your brother, after all. 

He’s talking animatedly with the pianist, an old mutual friend of your family’s named Yoongi, who isn’t wearing a mask and is thus immediately identifiable. Not to mention the fact that your family has known his since before you learned to walk. As you get closer to them, you notice that his maskless-ness is because Jungkook’s got it snatched up in between his fingers, dangling it in front of Yoongi like the taunting claw of a rigged toy machine. You decide not to bother them. He’s always been closer with Jungkook, anyway.

You really wish your mother better understood what a masquerade-themed party meant. You can’t get more than three steps in before being stopped by someone you can hardly recognize, all smiles for the birthday girl. They wish you a happy birthday and give you a lifeless compliment that goes in one ear and out the other before going on their way, positively thrilled that they’ve been invited to an event as grand as this and determined to make the most of it. 

Eventually, after far too many interruptions, you make it to the catering table, helping yourself to a piece of the five-tiered, golden-iced cake your parents had ordered. At least they got your favorite flavor right—chocolate and vanilla swirl. You wait happily beside the rest of the catered food as you eat, hoping that you are just out of reach enough to go unnoticed. The least your birthday party guests could do is leave you alone. 

“Y/N!”

Never mind. 

You look up to the source of the sound and find only your father approaching, all dressed up in a crisp suit from the same tailors that made Jungkook’s. He isn’t wearing a mask and apparently doesn’t need one, since it is your birthday and not his. Not a good enough excuse, in your opinion. 

“Dad,” you say with a smile, wiping away the icing you feel sitting just off the corner of your lips. 

“Enjoying yourself?” He asks heartily, all smiles because he’s always felt rather at home surrounded by this sort of grandeur, almost as much as your mother. No wonder the two of them get along so well. 

“The cake is nice,” you dodge the question. 

“Ah, glad you like it,” he says, helping himself to his own piece. “We were going to get red velvet but then Jungkook reminded us your favorite flavor was the swirly one,” he laughs to himself, like it’s funny that they almost got it wrong. “Had to call the bakery last minute and change it.”

You purse your lips together in a tense smile, fork picking at the crumbs left on your plate. 

“Have you been chatting with your friends?” He asks. 

“Here and there,” you respond. Nobody here, except perhaps Jungkook and Yoongi, would be people you considered friends. Acquaintances at best. And besides, it’s not like you can even identify half of the attendees anyway. “You?” You always do much better when the topic of conversation is not your social life. 

“Ah, yes, of course, you know me,” he jokes, always the aristocrat. “I was just speaking with Mr. Oh about that corporate investment deal that I had been arranging with him.”

“Dad,” you say, exasperated, “You know that I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Y/N,” he says, already beginning to get frustrated. You and him have shared this conversation countless times already. “You aren’t the final decision maker. You know that.”

“Yes, but you value my input, don’t you?” You challenge. He nods tensely. “So listen to me. I don’t think this deal will be good for us. Even though the Oh’s have more money in their investments, they aren’t transparent with it. If you make this deal you won’t know where our money is going.”

“Nonsense,” your father rebukes. “Mr. Oh and I have known each other for years. I trust him. You’re just saying this because you don’t like their son.”

“Sehun has nothing to do with this,” you argue, even if it is true. Your mother had set you up on a blind date with him a couple of years ago and from the moment he walked through the door, you knew it would go south. He’s got the same conceited attitude his father has. “I don’t think it’s a wise business decision.”

“You mustn’t let personal grievances get in the way of your work and you know that,” your father commands sternly, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. “What will you do when you are the CEO of Jeon Group? Are you going to let pettiness get in the way of major advancements for the company?”

“No!” You insist, though you are far too gone for your father to believe you. 

“This deal is happening and that’s final, Y/N,” your father declares harshly, eyes narrowed at you. 

“But, Dad—”

“I don’t want to hear another word from you about this,” he directs. “You should know better than to argue with me about this sort of thing. Especially here. Your mother worked very hard on putting this party on for you, and you should be grateful.”

You exhale, incensed. “I am, Dad, but the business means more to me than—”

“Stop. You can’t change my mind.” Your father sets his finished plate down on a cart an arm’s length away, piled high with discarded dishes, glasses and utensils. “Go talk with your friends instead.” You frown at him, nose scrunched up in contempt. He gestures you away from him. “Go.”

Sighing, you wipe away the sweat that has gathered along your temples and go back out into the center of the ballroom, watching begrudgingly as your father steers you from him, having deemed your conversation over even if you weren’t finished talking. It’s obvious that there’s no more getting through to him. Unless all of the Ohs are suddenly arrested for embezzling funds or mail fraud, that deal is happening.

Standing in the middle of the room, you turn around once and you’re immediately lost amongst all of the guests, surrounded by people everywhere you look. You turn back to where your father was standing but he’s vanished, and when you turn the other way, Jungkook has disappeared from beside the grand piano as well. It feels like you’re outnumbered, like you’re trapped in a maze of people with no end in sight, like one wrong move and suddenly they will all turn to look at you, stare you down like camera lenses, relentless flashes of light. Nobody to talk to, nowhere to run. 

You’re stuck. 

Now that you think about it, you sort of always have been. 

The room gets blurrier.

“Hey, are you alright?” A voice asks. 

You feel like you spin around several times before your eyes focus in on the man it belongs to. 

“Here, come on, let’s get out of here.”

Your feet move against your mind’s better judgement, the man ushering you away from the center of the room and out of the crowd. You barely notice the direction he’s taking you in until you feel the cool late night air blow past you, tickling your skin and sending shivers down your spine. 

It’s the balcony.

The glass door shuts behind the two of you, sending a stream of wind against your back as it effectively removes all of the background noise of the party, containing it within the ballroom, leaving the both of you shrouded in the stars’ silence. 

Out here, you have a perfect view of the city. Even though it’s nearing midnight, the lights are still on, coating the town in a twinkling glow, yellow lights flickering on and off, as if someone were looking at the universe from far beyond it. Some parts of the city go to sleep when the sun sets. Others are just waking up. 

Next to you, the man removes his suit jacket and drops it ceremoniously on the floor at his feet, arms resting on the balcony’s railing as he gazes out into the distance. As you look out into the same deep navy sky, it’s almost as if the rest of the night has faded away. You don’t know who he is and you can only hope that he doesn’t know you either, hope that he has rescued you from the crowd to talk you down rather than talk you up. But you don’t miss the way he hasn’t said a word to you since you stepped foot outside, hasn’t dared to initiate contact just in case you were looking for a respite from all of it. 

At this angle, you can turn your head just enough to get a good look at him, at the way half of his face is enveloped in shadow while the other half is letting the moonlight do all of the talking. From here, the light from the full moon is faint, a barely-there silver glow, but it casts him in just enough light to make him seem as though he belongs in a dream. Like he isn’t even real. It highlights the sharpness of his jaw, the peaks of his cheekbones, his round button nose. But what it really makes gleam are his eyes, almost pitch black in the night. They reflect the sky like nothing else, glimmers of faint starlight in an ocean of ink.

Quite frankly, you wouldn’t mind staying like this for the rest of the night. 

“Thank you.” You breathe out the words and immediately feel his gaze jerk sharply towards you. “For getting me out of there.”

“Of course,” he says, and oh, goodness, his voice is thick and warm and comforting, like a fireplace on a cool night, like a blanket after a nightmare. “You just seemed like you needed a break.”

“You could say that,” you say, shrugging to yourself. You could use more than a break. A general pause on life is something you certainly wouldn’t object to—if only it was that easy. But hey, you take what is given to you and never miss an opportunity if you can help it. There’s a lot that you can (and do) complain about but even more than you should be grateful for. Your father was right. This party took a lot of planning on your mother’s part and you spent half of it in the bathroom wishing you were anywhere but here.

“A lot on your plate?” He asks with a smile, a real one, one that isn’t forced like everybody else. Almost like he’s smiling because he’s actually enjoying himself. 

“I feel like it’s endless,” you say, keeping it vague because, as it stands, this gorgeous man does not know who you are, and you would like to keep it that way.

“As is all of life,” he says sagely, almost as if it’s a reminder to himself as well. You wonder what he must have on his mind. You wonder if it’s worth sharing your life with a stranger. “It looked like you had a lot on your mind back in there.” He gestures weakly back towards the door. 

“I have a lot on my mind no matter where I am,” you correct, and you try to make it sound funny but instead it just comes out sounding sad. Normally you wouldn’t be cracking jokes at your expense in front of someone whose name you don’t even know, but you had a couple of drinks tonight and the taste is still fresh on your tongue, sitting alongside all of the words you want to say but don’t know how to. 

The man leaves it at that, not wanting to push any further, but you aren’t finished yet. Someone might as well know how you feel, since you bottle it up around everyone else. 

“Do you ever wish that you could just… I don’t know. Disappear?” You turn to look at him, heaving out a sigh. He doesn’t say anything, simply gazes back at you, like he’s willing you to carry on. It, in a way, worries you. “Ugh. I feel ridiculous saying it out loud.”

There’s a tense, pregnant pause between the two of you. It makes you feel like talking was a mistake. 

“It’s not ridiculous.” It almost sounds like the words are coming from someone else. Like this whole thing is just a figment of your imagination, created by your mind to keep you company because there’s no one else to turn to. 

He’s staring out over the balcony now, waiting for you to continue. 

“I don’t know,” you say, feeling utterly idiotic, like a fish out of water. “Sometimes I just wish that I could go somewhere else and be someone else and not have to worry about all of the things in my life. Things like my family, and my work. There are so many things that people expect of me. All the time. It feels like I’m living for them instead of myself.”

He nods along, holding back to see if you have anything else to say. You must sound like such an ungrateful little rich girl, you think to yourself. Complaining about this fabulous party and incredible life that you live, a life filled with wealth and grandeur and power, a life that most people dream of having. What will he think of you?

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “I probably sound like such a spoiled brat.”

“You don’t,” he immediately assures you, taking a step to his right and closing the gap between you two. “It doesn’t sound like that at all.”

“Then what does it sound like?” You muse to yourself, forcing a laugh. 

“It sounds like you have a lot that you feel like you owe to other people,” he says organically. “You know, like you feel like you have to do all of these things because you can’t let other people down. I get it. I know that everyone nowadays is all, ‘You shouldn’t give a shit about what other people think of you, just do whatever you want,’ but it’s hard not to think about what other people think of you. And what other people expect from you. Letting them down sucks.”

You chuckle. Sounds about right. You may not be completely satisfied with your life right now but that doesn’t mean you’re going to fling your responsibilities onto the shoulders’ of other people. Your father works hard, your mother works hard, your brother works hard. The least you could do for them is offer up the same diligence.

“You’re quite the smooth talker,” you joke, looking him up and down and nodding your approval. He’s definitely figured you out, at least. 

“I’m just a people person,” the man admits. “I like talking with people.”

“And here I was, thinking that I’d be confessing my secrets to a brick wall,” you say, making him crack a smile, another real one. You like the look of them. A part of you wants to do it more often. 

“Secrets, huh?” He asks, sliding another inch closer, daringly so, teetering on the edge of territory that you haven’t touched in years. “I like the sound of that. Got any more for me?”

You smirk up at him, a grin playing on your lips. “Only if you have one for me in return. No freebies.”

He laughs, loud and clear, the sound ringing out in the nighttime air. “Alright,” he says, obliging. He leans in close, lips hovering above your ear. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

You’ve been listening to compliments all night but this one makes the heat rush to your cheeks like nothing else, a fire set alight in your veins. 

“That’s a secret, is it?” You ask, suddenly feeling shy, looking all around you just so you don’t have to look him in his eyes and feel your legs turn to jelly. 

“Not anymore,” he reminds you. “What about you? Anything else to share with me?” He’s standing dangerously close to you now, barely half a foot of space between your bodies as he leans into you, hands hovering above your waist. 

Slowly he begins to tilt his head towards you, and while you’ve never been one for dramatics, you have to admit that you haven’t felt this way since your schoolgirl crush days back when you were a teenager, giddy and electric and desperately craving more. 

You watch as his lips flutter above yours, feel transparent underneath his steel gaze, and you say, “I think you’re gorgeous, too.”

The fireworks thing had always been over the top for you. Like it was impossible for a kiss to feel that explosive to anyone, setting you alight over and over and over again. But his lips pressed against yours come pretty damn close. It makes your whole body go weak, like you can barely hold yourself up, hands clutching onto his sleeves just to make sure you don’t go topping off the balcony. He kisses you and you swear that you would never do this sort of thing normally—go about your romantic interests like a professional, a couple of dates and then perhaps a kiss on your doorstep—but goddamn, it feels like you might just give up everything for him. It feels like there are sparks running all across your skin, sending jolts of life into your heart. It feels like he is someone you are going to miss.

It lasts too long and ends too quickly all at once. You distantly hear the party celebrate the clock striking twelve indoors, cheers and screams and shouts as people rally themselves to continue long after the mark of a new day, and feel him pull away from you at the very same instant. Shamelessly, you instinctively reach up to try and meet his lips again, refusing to believe it’s over, but already he’s separating himself from you. 

“Hey, what’s wrong—?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing, I promise,” the man says, the words barely registering in your kiss-drunk haze. He scoops up his jacket from the floor and immediately begins to head back inside. “I just have to go, really. It’s nothing.”

You freeze, mouth agape. “Wait, I don’t even know your—”

“It was really nice meeting you, I hope that we can see each other again!” He pulls open the door with one final grin, one beautiful, brilliant smile, and then suddenly, he’s gone. 

You feel the rush of wind blow against your skin, holding you hostage on the balcony as you stare at the closed door, almost like he had never been here at all. 

It wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t have been. He was real, and he was here, and then he was right in front of you, his hands were on your waist, his lips were on your lips. And still, it’s almost as if it never even happened. 

You blink back at the door, trying to convince yourself that you are still awake, that you haven’t gone mad with loneliness, when you feel yourself step on something. 

It’s his mask. A plain, black one with a couple of decorative touches. The string meant to secure it to his face is broken, having probably snapped in half in his rush to leave, leaving it as the only reminder that you didn’t dream up the entire ordeal to begin with. 

You reach down to pick it up, letting it rest between your fingertips, and you laugh. Here you are, having fallen for a man whose name you don’t know and whom you don’t think you’ll ever see again, the only piece left you have of him being a broken, forgotten masquerade mask. Like the worst rendition of Cinderella ever. 

Leaning back over the balcony, you sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that even if tonight was more eventful than you thought it would be, you will have to get up tomorrow morning and go to work, just the same. 

And you suppose that that really is what the man was talking about when he said life was endless. 

It’s not that it has no end. It’s just that it doesn’t really feel like you’re ever beginning something new. 

You wake up in a cold sweat and are convinced you dreamt of the whole thing until you see the mask sitting on your chest of drawers, grounding you back to reality. 

You wonder what it is about him, about last night, that so easily deceives you into thinking it never happened. Perhaps it was the time, or the alcohol on your tongue, or how storybook the whole thing felt, from the talking to the kissing to the disappearing into the night. Or perhaps it was the fact that you can’t remember the last time someone made you feel the way that he made you feel, can’t remember the last time someone kissed you like he did. Like your brain was convinced it would just never happen. 

At least you know that there’s still a little hope for you.

A part of you almost thinks that, for the rest of time, you won’t be able to think of anything but the mystery man and his excellent kissing skills. Even the morning after, the tingling feeling on your lips still lingers like lint on a blazer, like a scar that won’t fade. It feels like it won’t ever go away, dancing along your lips every time you look in a mirror. You hardly remember anything else about that night besides him, besides talking to him, besides his lips on yours. 

You continue to live in this post-kiss bliss for another ten minutes as you help yourself to breakfast and hum a mindless tune. Then your phone lights up. 

“Hey, Dad!” You say cheerfully, practically bouncing on your feet. 

“Y/N,” he says gruffly. “You haven’t left for work yet, have you?”

“Nope,” you say, stuffing a spoonful of Honey Nut Cheerios into your mouth. “Why? Do you need me to bring something?”

“Actually, Y/N, you won’t be coming to the office today.” His tone is stern and sharp, no-nonsense. The same way he speaks to interns who have fucked up. 

Oh, no. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, trying to keep your tone positive even though you already know you’re toast. 

“I’m assigning you to watch over the new resort hotel at the edge of the city.” Your father has never been known to beat around the bush. 

“What?” You gasp out, shocked. “Dad, you know that I—”

“You wanted more independence and more input in decision-making, didn’t you?” He says pointedly, a reminder of last night.

“Yes, but I—”

“Good,” he declares. “This resort is going to be your responsibility and I want to see that you are doing well with the tasks at hand.”

“Dad, that sounds good, but you know I much prefer more corporate responsibilities—”

“And at this resort, you will have that,” he informs you. “It’s high time you take on your own tasks instead of doing the ones that I hand down to you. I expect to see this resort flourish.” You don’t understand his logic. Isn’t he literally handing you an entire resort to oversee? A brand new one, too?

“But wouldn’t you rather manage such a new hotel? What if it starts to encounter deficits?” You plead, a final attempt to get him to take your name off of this project so you can go back to doing what you’re used to instead of being flung a brand new resort you definitely aren’t keen on overseeing. 

“Then I should hope to see you solve them quickly,” he clips, effectively dissolving any hope you had that he would change his mind. Normally, you love your father’s typical hands-off approach when it comes to business, usually because it allows you to gain working experience without him carrying you every step of the way, but right now, you just wish he was more of a selfish businessman. For once, it would actually work out quite well for you. 

“Dad—”

“I’ll be checking in.”

He hangs up. 

Standing in the middle of your kitchen, you huff, nose scrunched up and eyebrows furrow as you try to think your way out of this. Getting through to your father is impossible, getting through to your mother, even more so. She’s always preferred to stick to philanthropy, anyway, having zero interest in what you and your father do. You scowl to yourself, already beginning to run out of options. Is your list really that short? Who else in your family could help?

Suddenly, you smack your head, shocked at how forgetful you’ve been. You grab your phone from where it sits on the counter and dial his number. 

“Y/N?” Jungkook asks from the other end, voice still groggy. At least he gets to sleep in. 

“Hey, Jungkook,” you say, sighing out your hello to sound more casual. 

“What’s up?” He asks in between yawns. 

“Listen, Dad just assigned me to oversee that new resort hotel on the beach just outside of town,” you say economically. You’ve always gotten straight to the point with your brother. It’s the only reason the two of you aren’t constantly at each other’s necks anymore. 

“Really? That’s awesome!” Jungkook says excitedly, voice jumping up half an octave. 

“I mean…” You begin, because it’s really… not.

“This probably means that Dad’s going to retire soon, don’t you think? Since he’s giving you such a big responsibility, right?” Jungkook asks, a suggestion that nearly sends you into a coughing fit at the mere thought of it. Retirement?

“You think so?” You ask, a little terrified. 

“I don’t know,” Jungkook says, and you can hear his nonchalant shrug through the phone. “Maybe. He has been talking a lot recently about what’s going to happen when you take over the company.”

“Don’t you want that same responsibility, though?” Jungkook has never been treated as a business equal the same way you have, despite having the same expensive education as you and being much better with people. You’ve always wondered if that’s bothered him. 

“Not really,” Jungkook tells you, and you can hear the familiar log-in sound of his computer in the background. “I mean, I’ve always known you were going to inherit the company. This sort of thing just makes sense to me.”

You frown to yourself. “You don’t want to be involved with the business at all?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Jungkook says with a sigh, voice still groggy. “I’m happy that I’m getting the work experience and everything. But it’s just never something I’ve seen as part of my future.”

Mostly because it’s always been yours. 

The fact of the matter is that Jungkook, even if he is younger, and a little more rambunctious, and a little bit more impulsive, has always been the better candidate to take over the family business. He excels at task-driven jobs and has charmed the pants off of everyone he’s ever met, from Yoongi to your florist to the nice woman at the customer service counter at your local grocery store. He’s a quick decision-maker and never second-guesses himself. He also has zero problems with his love life and potential partners, something that your parents are desperate for you to figure out. He’s perfect for the position. 

So why are you the heir?

“What, are you just going to livestream video games for a living, then?” You ask snarkily, already knowing that he’s sat at his desk, ready for another match. 

“Probably. I could probably double the family’s fortune, you know,” he says, and he’s right. What he does is equally as profitable as what you do, and he gets bonus points because it’s something that he genuinely enjoys. 

“You better get started then, gamer boy,” you say, hearing his bubbly laugh echo through the phone before you hang up. 

Jungkook would take over the resort hotel management if you asked, and you know it. He’s got the experience and the expertise to do it flawlessly, no questions asked. But he won’t, because you won’t ask that of him. Because even if you don’t want to do it, it is better you than him. Someone in this family deserves to do what they love for a living. And nobody deserves that more than him. 

The Honey Nut Cheerios slosh around in the milk in the bowl in front of you. You aren’t very hungry anymore. 

Your father has always had an eye for design, a trait he never seemed to pass on to you. It’s no wonder why he’s the one the architectures and interior decorators run everything by while you manage the finances. It’s something your mother always says she loves about him. So, even if you are assigned to oversee a resort hotel that you have zero interest in whatsoever, at least it looks nice. 

“Whoa, this place is fancy,” Hoseok says, gasping as the two of you step out of the car beneath the golden awning that covers the hotel entrance. There are little lights lining the structure, something to bathe the canopy in a sparkling glow when the sun says goodbye for the day, light it up like stars in the night sky. 

“You’ve been to my house, this is nothing,” you say with a shrug, making him laugh as the doors open for you, carpet plush and hardly touched. From what you read in the file your father sent you, this place hasn’t been open for more than two weeks. 

It looks like it’s barely been occupied. 

The security guard, a gruff, stout man, nods a hello to you as you enter. 

“Uh, your house doesn’t have security guards,” Hoseok whispers into your ear as you pass him, pointing rather conspicuously to the man behind you. “Your dad really went all out on this one.”

You huff, gritting your teeth. Good thing it’s not an eyesore, otherwise you don’t think you’d last a week here. “Well, he’s always loved the beach.” 

“Why does that not surprise me,” Hoseok lilts, whistling as he gazes away from you, guilty. 

You smack him with the back of your hand in the middle of his torso. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he says, backing off even though he knows he’s the only person (well, besides Jungkook) who can get away with saying that sort of thing in front of you. “You two have always been polar opposites, I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, well, say it in your head,” you sulk, hitting him again so that he straightens up. You both have a duty to make a good first impression, though Hoseok’s red suit is doing half of the work for him. 

As you enter, all of the staff behind the desk scramble to get to their positions, hands together neatly in front of them as you peer over your wire-rimmed glasses to get a good look at the place. It’s clean, elegant, with touches of luxury here and there, a golden coffee table, an accent along the lining of the walls. It smells faintly of lemon and mostly of the ocean, a scent you are going to have to get used to. Everything seems to be in order. 

You stroll up the front desk, eyeing everything closely. Behind it, the three employees currently on front-desk duty wait patiently for you to speak. Their names are written in capital letters on gold-plated tags, pinned to the pockets of their blazers. You nod as you memorize their names. Irene, Seohyun, and Seokjin. 

Seokjin looks positively wide-eyed, flabbergasted to be seeing you, to be standing in front of you. There’s this faint sort of recognition on his face, like he’s just realized something life-altering, and he’s doing a rather poor job of hiding it. Perhaps he’s just starstruck.

“Well, we might as well get the introductions over with,” you declare, clapping your hands together. The sound makes the three of them jump. “If you didn’t know, I’m Y/N, and I’ll be overseeing this hotel for the foreseeable future. So let’s get along well together. For all of our sakes.”

They nod, polite smiles on their faces. 

“Which one of you is the hotelier?” You ask, looking between the three of them. Your father had written it down in that file somewhere but quite frankly, you were so exasperated that you had been assigned the hotel that you hadn’t really looked it over properly. 

“That would be me,” the man, Seokjin, says with a tense, small little grin, nodding his head when you turn to face him. He looks strikingly familiar, this sort of picturesque nostalgia that you can’t quite place, angles sharp in the bright light of the hotel. You wonder where you’ve seen it before. Possibly in some magazine or at an event. He certainly is worthy of being photographed. 

“Excellent,” you declare happily. “Then you’re on my staff, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I just received word about that last night,” he affirms. 

“Wonderful,” you say, fingers tapping against the granite countertops. “I can tell that this will all go smoothly, so long as we all make sure to stay on task. Sounds good?”

“Of course, Miss Jeon,” Seokjin says. 

“Please, call me Y/N. I do hate formalities,” you request. “So, shall we get started? I trust that you all know exactly what you’re doing. But I would like to receive a few updates here and there about the goings-on here. Mostly, I would like all total daily income numbers to be faxed to my office, transcripts of all of the customer service requests, and an updated menu. The pizza is far too cheap and the lobster just as expensive. How’s that for a starting list?”

“Would you like those numbers in an Excel sheet or graphed?” Irene asks, eyebrows raised. 

“Both,” you answer. She and Seohyun get right to work, leaving you feeling confident that this won’t be a complete train wreck. “Seokjin, you are with me.” You gesture for him to come out from behind the desk, and begin to walk around the lobby of the hotel, hoping to put some distance between you two and the other employees. He stays a solid two feet behind you the entire time, taking quick, short steps so he doesn’t dare start to catch up. 

“How can I help, Miss Jeon?” He asks, eyes wide.

You smile, shaking your head. “I told you that Y/N is fine. In any case, since you are the hotelier, I will need a little more from you.” He nods. “First, I need a summary of all expenses and income since you opened, preferably in Excel and formatted cleanly. I’ll also need a list of all of the employees, their respective positions, and their salaries. It would be great if we could begin to eliminate the part-time slots and allow the employees to become full-time so that they receive the same benefits as you and I. I’ll also need information on their schedules.” 

You notice he isn’t writing any of this down, simply bobbing his head as you lift off everything you want and a few things that you’re throwing in just so you don’t have to do them. 

“I assume that you don’t have constant contact with my father, but I don’t mind being the messenger in regards to hotel infrastructure and design. Any and all malfunctions should also be reported to me. It would also be great if we could maybe lose the curtains in the lobby. I think they close up the room. But, your choice.” You narrow your eyes, looking around to see if there’s anything else that needs urgent attention, when you see Hoseok already beginning to hunt through the concessions room, picking up bags of different themed Jelly Belly. “I think that should be enough for now. Update me whenever possible, please.”

“You got it,” Seokjin says, heading back to the desk as quickly as he had walked away from it, concentration washing over his features. It does, at least, bring you comfort that nobody seems particularly incompetent. 

Behind you, you can hear Hoseok muttering a few things at the front desk, most likely having to do with you and your attitude. But you don’t think it’s that big of a deal. You’ve always been work-oriented. It’s always been your biggest focus. Lingering in the lobby, you gaze out the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the entrance, the slick, newly-paved asphalt, the tropical flowers that surround it. You have always preferred a city to a beach, but at least the time might pass quicker here with people who know how to do their jobs.

Perhaps this might not be so bad after all. 

Then, your phone vibrates in your pants pocket. 

“Mom,” you greet, surprised that she’s calling you during work. “Hey, how are you?”

“Wonderful!” She shrieks, always the energizer. “Your father told me all about how he assigned you to oversee that new resort. I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks,” you respond, lifeless. 

“You know, you have a lot of responsibility now,” she reminds you, as if you had already forgotten how much work goes into supervising something like this. “Directing a hotel and its staff is a big deal. I don’t want you to think that you can just slack off.”

“Mom, I’m not going to slack off,” you explain. “You know I care about this stuff, just like Dad.”

“I know, I know, I’m just making sure. We want to make sure the company is in good hands when your father retires. He doesn’t have too many years left, you know.”

“Well, whenever he’s ready, I’ll be too,” you assure her, a promise you have vowed to uphold, no matter what becomes of you or your social life. 

“Good.” The conversation ends there. Or, more takes a quick pause, which can only mean one thing. Your mother has something else she needs to tell you. “Speaking of seeing you off…”

“Yes—?”

“Your father and I both think it’s high time you start to settle down with someone. You know we don’t want to see you end up all alone,” she begins, the same argument that you’ve had with your parents time and time again. 

“Mom, you know that I’m not really interested in going out and finding people right now.” Or ever. 

“Yes,” she begins, sucking in her breath between her teeth. Oh, goodness, what’s she going to say now? “But luckily, you don’t have to. You’re so busy, we can’t expect you to just drop everything. So we did.”

“You what?”

“Your father and I have set you up on some dates—just a couple!—with some of his associates’ sons,” she explains, but you are already livid. “We just think that you should be taking more time to see—”

“See what?” You demand. “See his friends’ bratty sons tell me how much money they make? See their cars and their clothes and their stupid Italian leather shoes? See them tell me how I work too hard and that I should just stay at home while they go out and change the world? No thank you.” You can’t name a thing in this world less appealing. Except perhaps supervising a resort hotel against your will. But even that’s better, because the men here actually know what they’re doing.

“Honey, you just aren’t giving them the opportunity—”

“Mom, they don’t deserve an opportunity. I don’t need to be dating people right now. At all!” You exclaim. “Like you said, I’m busy. If Dad is going to retire soon then I need to be ready for it. I have other priorities.”

“Your happiness is our priority,” your mother insists, convinced she’s doing you a good deed by setting you up on blind dates with rich men who care more about their watches and Italian leather shoes than they would a woman. 

“Working makes me happy,” you say between gritted teeth. “I’m perfectly happy as I am.”

“Will you please just give them a try, honey? You never know,” she pleads, desperate to get you to agree with something.

“Fine,” you say, caving in just to get her to stop talking about it. “But don’t expect anything out of it.”

“Yay! That’s all I wanted to hear.” You can hear her relief through the phone. 

“Anything else?” You ask, rubbing at your temples, wishing desperately for this day to be over so you can just go home and take a nice, hot bath, and dream about the mystery man in his black masquerade mask. You’re not interested in dating, sure, but for him, you think you'd make an exception. If only you knew who he was. 

“That’s it. Love you, honey, congratulations on the new resort!” She hangs up in that same voice that she started with, bubbly and animated, and the moment you hear the line go dead, you throw your dignity to the dogs and groan to yourself. 

“God almighty,” you mutter angrily, shaking your head as you rest your head in your hands, fingers massaging at your forehead. Another blind date? How could you possibly have agreed to that? The more you think about the more you wish that this part of your life was the dream instead. Fairytales are overrated but quite frankly, you certainly wouldn’t mind if that man from the party waltzed right into your life and swept you off your feet. He certainly had no trouble doing it last night. You wonder what he’s up to, now—

“Miss Jeon?”

You jump at the voice, scaring both you and Seokjin as you turn, a little cry escaping your lips instinctively. “Oh my God, you frightened me. And please, Y/N is fine. Better, actually.”

Seokjin looks like a deer in headlights, terrified to even talk to you, let alone address you by your first name. You appreciate the professionalism but have never been too fond of the whole ‘Miss’ thing. As if you or your parents need any more reminding that you’re single. Your first name feels much more natural. He flounders twice, opening his mouth to say something before shutting it again, as though whatever he says will suddenly enrage you. 

“Do you… need anything, Seokjin?” You ask, prompting him since he doesn’t seem to be taking matters into his own hands. 

The sound of his name from your lips snaps him out of his daze. “Oh! Yes, I do, actually. I just wanted to ask if you wanted me to include personal expenses on the part of the hotelier in the Excel sheet.”

“Personal expenses? Did you receive a credit from my father?” You ask, an eyebrow raised in surprise. 

“Yes, it was mailed to me just last week. I’ve only used it for a couple of items, though—”

“Like what?” You ask, head tilted. 

He blushes red, cheeks rosy like cherries in summer. “The curtains in the lobby.”

You bark out a laugh, amused at how unexpected this whole thing is. The one thing Seokjin spends money on, you instruct him to take down. At the sound of your chortle, Seokjin backs away, like a cat scared of thunder claps. “Of course,” you say, looking up at the sky and exhaling. Fate. “Please include those.” He nods, already making to scurry back to the front desk, but another sentence from your mouth stops him in his tracks. “Oh, and if you think that the curtains look nice, then leave them. I was never good at interior design anyway.”

You crack a smile, hoping that Seokjin will at least recognize that you’re attempting to be funny and grin, validating you and your lacking sense of humor. He doesn’t, but he does nod once more, and you at least feel like the ice between you is beginning to crack. 

Seokjin rushes back towards the front desk, taking on the enormous list of tasks you’ve assigned him without so much blinking an eye. You watch as his eyebrows furrow in concentration, knitting themselves together above the scrunch of his nose, as his eyes zero in on his computer screen. It’s obvious that he knows exactly what he’s doing and has no issues regarding his work whatsoever. Good thing he’s the hotelier. 

From here, you can use supervision as a cover for the way that you are blatantly ogling him, his figure and his face, finding yourself rather impressed at the sight in front of you. Here, in this lavish, modern hotel, he looks like a prince rather than a manager, clean button-down shirt and fitted slacks, tailored to fit his short torso and long legs. His hair hangs in front of his face in strands, the same sort of hairstyle that the attractive male love interests get, messy and tousled but still fresh. It looks good on him. He certainly wears it well. 

You don’t think being here will be too bad, so long as you have him. 

“Hey.” You feel Hoseok wrap his arm around you, joining you as you stand by the windows. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you promise. “I am.”

Hoseok motions back towards them, where they work diligently behind the front desk as they wait for the next guests to arrive. Seokjin, thinking you aren’t looking, steps back from his computer for just a moment to take some breaths, catch some air. He stretches, arms above his head as his shirt is pulled out from where it’s tucked into his pants. Even from here, you can see the toned lines of his torso, his healthy, slim figure. 

Something about him is so familiar. Maybe you met him in a past life. 

“I think you’ll be fine, Y/N,” he promises, bright white smile gazing back at you, happy as always. “You don’t have anything to worry about. They all look like they know what they’re doing. Especially that Seokjin guy.”

Being here wasn’t your first choice. It wasn’t even your second. But you have people that you can’t let down, and responsibilities to uphold. Besides, you don’t think it’ll be that bad. At least, not with someone like Seokjin around. Perhaps there is always a silver lining. 

“Yeah,” you repeat again, exhaling. Hoseok turns to look at you, fondness lacing his features, and you smile to yourself. “I know.”

Very seldom are you shouted at by people that your family has employed. The fear of being fired due to disagreeing with your boss is enough to keep many people quiet. Submissive, even. 

But not Hoseok. 

“What is with these eye bags, Y/N?” He exclaims at you, exasperated as he picks up the color-correcting pot from his kit and turns around to face you. “I thought we agreed on eight hours of sleep per night. Getting less than that is a death sentence!”

“I’m fine, Hoseok,” you insist, even though the bags underneath your eyes are deeper than the Grand Canyon. You, admittedly, have not been sleeping as much as Hoseok has insisted upon. 

“No, you’re not, look at you! Earlier today you shoved your toothbrush into your ear when I called you while you were about to start brushing your teeth,” Hoseok reminds you, an embarrassing moment in your life that you would prefer to keep just between the two of you. Sometimes you just mix up what’s in your hands. It happens. 

You frown. “I thought we agreed not to mention that.”

“Your skin is looking dry, too,” Hoseok says, dabbing on the product underneath your eyes. “These are all signs that your body isn’t doing well.”

“Okay, Dr. Jung,” you say with a roll of your eyes, making Hoseok scowl playfully at you. “But I’m fine. I’m just working a little bit harder right now. That’s all.”

“That’s what you always say,” Hoseok points out, unimpressed with your measly excuse. “Every time I talk to you about how you aren’t taking care of yourself, you always go, ‘It’s because of work, I’m fine,’ or ‘Don’t worry about me, I just have a lot to do right now.’ It’s not healthy.”

“I don’t sound like that!” You object, offended at his mocking high-pitched impression of you. You don’t sound like Hoseok on helium. You refuse to accept that. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Hoseok says, shrugging you off as he pulls out the concealer. “I’m serious, Y/N. You work yourself way too hard. This event is supposed to be a fun business gala and you’re probably going to spend the whole time checking your email.”

“I will not!” You will.

Hoseok frowns, seeing right through you. One of the many benefits of being your personal assistant is the fact that he can read you like a children’s book. He also knows that he can say whatever he wants to you without fear of getting fired—not that he cares about that, either, because he’s probably got enough money in his bank account to put three kids through college. If he ever wanted to have kids, that is. So this is how conversations like these usually go. 

“If I didn’t like your live text updates on the stupid things people wear to these things so much, I would make you leave your phone at home,” Hoseok tells you. “You really do need to take time for yourself.”

“I do take time for myself,” you rebuke with a pout, thinking about how you’ve started waking up five minutes later so you have more time to sleep in. It means that you don’t get to read the morning news like you used to, but sometimes putting off politics until after you’ve had coffee is a good thing. 

“A once-a-month ten-minute bath while you put on a rose face mask doesn’t count,” Hoseok tells you pointedly. “You need to be incorporating this sort of thing into your everyday life. By taking time off. All you ever do is work.”

“It’s not my fault,” you huff, closing your eyes so Hoseok can do some eyeshadow. “I have a whole hotel to oversee after my dad assigned it to me. There’s a lot that I have to manage. Plus, my mom is making me go on these stupid blind dates with their associates’ snobby sons who still think that the pay gap isn’t real.”

Hoseok tuts to himself, shaking his head as he brushes color onto your eyelids. “Your parents have such bad taste in men for you.”

“I know!” 

“This is even further proof that you need to relax more,” Hoseok says economically, brain immediately connecting your predicament to his agenda to get you to take more time off, as always. “Because men stress you out.”

“Just them, but yes,” you correct.

“What do you mean ‘Just them’? Is there someone you’re interested in that doesn’t stress you out?” Hoseok demands, tapping your cheek to get you to open your eyes. You do and the first thing you see is Hoseok’s face, two inches from yours, staring at you as he waits for an answer.

You sigh. You might as well tell him about the mystery man. Clearly, you underestimated his power, because it’s been a week and you’re still thinking about him. “Yes, but—”

“‘Yes’?” Hoseok asks, shocked. “What the fuck, when did you meet him? What does he look like? What’s his name? Job? Is he rich?”

“At my birthday party,” you say. You can picture the scene perfectly in your mind. The balcony, the stars, the mask. The feeling of his hands on your waist, his lips on yours. They’ve been etched into your brain. “We talked on the balcony for a little while and then we kissed.”

“You what?”

“Don’t overreact, it’s not that big of a deal,” you order. The mere recollection of it is already making your body restless and your cheeks burn.

“What do you mean? It’s a huge deal!”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” you interrupt, sighing to yourself, “because he ran off at midnight Cinderella-style and I don’t know his name, or his job, or even what he really looks like because he was wearing a mask the whole time.”

Hoseok stops dead in his tracks, the loose power leaving a puff of smoke in between the two of you as his words sink in. Yeah. That’s how you feel too. You finally develop an interest in somebody after years of going it solo and you don’t know a damn thing about him. Other than the fact that he is a fantastic kisser. Which is not an appropriate identifier. You suppose that you could use the mask, but you don’t even know half of the people your mother invited. How are you supposed to narrow down who was wearing a black mask and who wasn’t?

The fact is that unless a miracle happens, you don’t have any way of figuring out who that man is. Yet another thing that you have to dwell on while you worry about everything else going on in your life. 

Hoseok sits on his words for a few more moments, trying to figure out the right thing to say. Eventually, he settles on, “Damn. That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you do anything to find him?”

You shake your head, resigning yourself to a life where the mystery man will forever remain a mystery. “No. I don’t even know who was on the guest list.”

“What if you ask Jungkook?” Hoseok poses. “Maybe he knows him.”

“Jungkook does not need to know about my barely-there love life,” you say with a self-deprecating chuckle. You and your brother typically keep your conversations far away from that realm of topics, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Jungkook is rather flush with admirers. Many of whom have gotten to know him a little bit… closer. “It’s no big deal, ‘Seok. I’m not really desperate to find love. I just need to focus on work, right now.”

“I wish you wouldn’t work yourself so hard, Y/N,” Hoseok says with a melancholic smile, knowing that no matter what he tells you, you’ll always be too determined for your own good. At least he tries. 

You purse your lips in understanding. Hoseok just wants what’s best for you, but what’s best for you right now is being ready for your father’s impending retirement. “There’s just too much that I have to do.”

“At least you’ll have help with the resort,” Hoseok offers, always looking on the bright side. “That Seokjin fellow seems like he really knows what he’s doing.”

You think back to your visits to the resort. Your longest stay was the first day you arrived, but you’ve been making frequent trips back to check in. And every time you arrive, Seokjin is waiting dutifully for your next orders, always getting your completed requests back to you on time, formatted perfectly. He listens to your every word and asks the right questions. He knows exactly what to do and he has no problems admitting when he doesn’t. He’s even started bringing you the occasional coffee.

He’s also terribly handsome, but you try to think about other things when you look at him. 

Hoseok’s right. At least you have Seokjin. His impeccable work ethic is half the reason you aren’t wearing yourself thin worrying about the resort. He was definitely meant to be a hotelier. 

“I guess you’re right.” You nod, letting Hoseok brush a deep maroon lipstick onto you as he finishes up with your makeup. “It could be worse.”

Hoseok mumbles in agreement, stepping back. “Let me look at you.”

You stand up, gown, heels, makeup, and all, letting Hoseok gaze at you to make sure that everything is flawless. You’ve never liked the events you have to attend, but getting dressed up is always something you rather enjoy. Especially when Hoseok is the one doing it. 

The dress drapes down your figure perfectly, hugging your sides as it gathers on the floor, leaving just enough space for the tips of your heels to peek out. Your necklace hangs low on your torso and your earrings dangle, soft golden strings with gems at the base. Your eyes sparkle with the help of the glitter that Hoseok has added, touches of shimmer on the high points of your face. You look into the mirror and for once, you feel satisfied.

“Wow,” Hoseok says, proud and beaming. “Look at you.”

There you are. 

Days at the resort hotel pass by faster now. 

Granted, no work day could ever top the speed at which the days passed when you were younger, playing outside with friends or running around in the yard during recess. But being here isn’t as terrible as you had first made it out to be. At least you don’t have your father constantly looking over your shoulder, even if he does call you every day to ask for updates. And at least the people here have integrity, more so than any of the usual executives you work with up in the central building in town. The people here aren’t brown-nosing you every minute of every day. 

And yes, getting to see Seokjin every day is also rather enjoyable. From a professional perspective. 

Hoseok says you need to take more time for yourself and relax more but quite frankly, being at the resort hotel is a vacation. It’s a respite from the hustle-and-bustle culture that your father has cultivated in his office building. It’s a break from the neverending business deals, the meetings, the agreements and bargains and contracts. And most importantly, it’s something that you can do without your father’s help. 

For once, it almost feels like a little taste of freedom. 

Of course, Hoseok would also tease you terribly about the fact that you consider overseeing a resort hotel a break, as opposed to an actual holiday where you take real time off. But he must know that that’s never going to happen. At least, not anytime soon. 

You hadn’t realized your father’s retirement was so close. The years pass by in a blur but you have always thought that your father has much too much to finish, tasks and projects, and events that will take another few years to come to fruition. Too many loose ends that he needs to tie up, deals he must close and finances he must track. You’ve been groomed to take over for him since you were young, even before you graduated, but retirement has always felt like a distant future. 

Not an imminent happening. 

Jungkook hadn’t even sounded surprised when you told him that you would be overseeing the new resort. 

You wonder if you’re the only one in your family who hadn’t expected your father to be planning his retirement so soon. The money and savings isn’t an issue—he will continue to invest long after he leaves his office—but the time is. Perhaps he has finished more than you thought he would. Accomplished more goals than you expected he’d do. 

Or perhaps, you just grew up too quickly. 

Time has always gone by much too fast for your liking. When you were little, when you were in school, when you graduated. You closed your eyes and suddenly all of your youth had whizzed by. You woke up and suddenly you were in and out of four years of college and two years of a Master’s in business. You blinked and suddenly you are about to inherit a company you thought you never would. 

The fear of everything ending is enough to keep you away. Away from that skyscraper in the center of the city, where your father’s office sits at the top floor, where he works nonstop to make sure that everything is ready for your arrival. Away from a future you thought you could avoid, until it reached you. 

Having this resort hotel, a brand new building in the beachy part of town, with efficient, competent staff and a gorgeous view, is enough to make you want to live in the past forever. 

Your phone screen lights up with your father’s contact for the third time today, the green ‘answer’ button and the red ‘decline’ button waiting patiently for your decision. Staring down at it, you frown. You normally aren’t one to purposely miss your father’s calls, but today is the day that the deal with the Ohs is finalized, something that you have zero desire to celebrate. 

After a few more moments, your phone stops vibrating in your hand, the screen going back. You roll your eyes and stuff it into the pocket of your pants, not wanting to wait for it to light up once more. You have a feeling that your mother will be phoning shortly to berate you for not answering your father’s calls, a call that you have every intention of ignoring just like the previous ones. You aren’t sure how to make clearer the fact that you think the deal is a bad idea. A terrible one, even. Mostly because the Ohs are horrible people.

Still, you cannot resist pulling your phone out when you feel it buzz against your side.

[Today, 12:27PM]

Jungkook: dude dad’s flipping out because you aren’t answering his calls

Ugh. Not Jungkook, too.

You: Tell him that I will congratulate him on the deal in person later. You: I’m busy right now.

Jungkook: he’s calling just to check in on the resort

You: I give him weekly updates and forward him any pressing news. He’ll manage.

Jungkook: just call him or mom’s gonna call you

You: Tell her that I will congratulate him on the deal in person. You: Later.

Jungkook: are you gonna be like this until dad retires?

You: Like what?

Jungkook: -_- Jungkook: don’t play stupid Jungkook: you’re being stubborn and you know it.

You: Dad already knows that I didn’t approve of him going through with the deal. I don’t imagine he’s expecting a party from me.

Jungkook: you can’t keep ignoring him just because you didn’t approve of one thing Jungkook: how is that professional???? Jungkook: you’re inheriting the business soon Y/N Jungkook: you need to start acting like it

You: Don’t tell me how to act when you aren’t the one busting your ass trying to make sure the business is ready for when he retires. You: You have your own life to lead and your own things to do. It’s not your place.

Jungkook: as a businessman, it isn’t Jungkook: as your brother, it is

You scowl at your screen. The brother card. Jungkook pulls it whenever he and you both know that you’re being unreasonable, and the worst part is that it always works. It always works because Jungkook only ever wants the best for you, wants to see you succeed as a businesswoman, as a future CEO, and as his sister. And who are you to deny him such a simple pleasure?

You: I just have a lot on my plate right now. Dad and I can talk later.

Jungkook: yknow Jungkook: like, occupationally, you are more than ready to inherit the company and you know it. Jungkook: you work so hard 24/7 and you never take breaks, you know exactly what you’re doing and you can command a room better than anyone i’ve ever met Jungkook: but Jungkook: oh idk

You: What?

An impromptu psychoanalysis from your wise-beyond-years younger brother is certainly not something you had been expecting today. But Jungkook always has and always will know you better than anyone else, something that is both a blessing and a curse.

Jungkook: you are so fucking ready to inherit the business Jungkook: i just wish you would realize it

Silence. You pause, watching the three dots appear and disappear over and over again, Jungkook typing and deleting what next he wants to say. Chuckling to yourself, you read his message over and over again. 

What’s Jungkook on about? Doesn’t he know what you do? The position you have? Just because you’ll eventually take over the business doesn’t mean you’re ready for it. Isn’t Jungkook aware of how much work you have to do? About how your father assigned you this resort hotel as punishment for disagreeing with him? 

You aren’t ready. 

You’re barely halfway. 

You: Yeah, right.

Jungkook: i’m serious Y/N Jungkook: can’t you see how prepared you are

You: I still have lots to do, Jungkook. Just because I’ve been given more responsibility doesn’t suddenly mean Dad’s going to retire tomorrow and that I’m ready to take over.

Jungkook: that’s not what i meant and you know it

You: I don’t feel like talking about this anymore. Tell Dad that I’ll talk to him about the deal later. 

Jungkook: … Jungkook: fine Jungkook: but don’t say i didn’t try to tell you

You angrily switch your phone off, fuming at the fact that the deal’s gone through, fuming at how Jungkook thinks that suddenly because you were given a resort hotel to oversee it means that you’re ready to take over from your father, and fuming at how, above all, there’s a part of you and a part of Jungkook that both know that he is, as usual, right. 

There’s a knock on the door to your makeshift office at the hotel and you lose it. 

“What?” 

You look up just in time to see Seokjin jump slightly at your shout, coffee sloshing around in the cups in his hand. Ah. You hadn’t meant to scare him like that. 

Exhaling, you rub at your temples as you set your phone down on the desk, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Seokjin. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Please, come in.”

“Coffee?” He offers, a small smile on his face as he holds it out.

“You are a lifesaver,” you declare, taking the cup from him happily and having a sip. Perfectly scalding. Seokjin waits patiently behind your desk until you’re finished, swaying slightly. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, no,” he says, shaking his head. “Just thought that I’d let you know that I’ve just got more files on the finances.”

“Oh, excellent,” you declare happily, accepting the small manila folder from underneath Seokjin’s arm. You open it just to browse, and everything seems to be in order. An easy thing to file away for future reference if necessary. And there’s no doubt in your mind that Seokjin’s already faxed you an electronic copy as well. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Seokjin nods. He turns to leave but seems to linger, noticing the tension in your shoulders and the irritation on your face, the way you drink up the boiling coffee like it’s nothing, relishing in the burn down your throat. He almost stops himself, opening his mouth slightly and then closing it, but then he just sighs, and he asks, “Are you alright?”

You sputter out the coffee all over the manila folder in front of you. “I’m sorry,” you say over coughs, the beverage going down the wrong pipe in all of the chaos. “What—what did you say?”

“You just seem more stressed than usual, is all,” Seokjin says, rocking back and forth on his feet with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his ink black slacks. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve been snappy recently,” you say, admitting it. “There’s just a lot I’m dealing with right now. Mostly to do with work.”

“I hope I’m helping, then?” He says hopefully, a hesitant grin on his face. 

You nod in agreement. Without him, you definitely wouldn’t be sleeping half as much as you do now (which is apparently still not enough, according to Hoseok). At least Seokjin’s there. “You definitely are. I don’t think I’d have made it without you,” you chuckle. 

Seokjin smiles. “If you need me to do more, I’d be happy to. Just ask.”

“Thank you, Seokjin. I really appreciate that,” you tell him. In the short time you’ve known him, Seokjin’s kindness has outshone even his stellar work ethic, a trait that you’ve come to admire in him, mostly because you know you can only dream of being as generous as he. “It means a lot.”

“Anytime,” he says, and he means it, too. “I’ll always be here for you.”

And standing here, in your makeshift office, with a matching cup of coffee in his hand, and a gorgeous, toothy smile on his face, you know that he means that, too. 

Sometimes, you can’t even believe a man like Seokjin exists. He’s practically flawless.

“I will bear that in mind,” you promise. “You really are a wonderful person, Seokjin. Really.”

Seokjin grins, the compliment going straight to him, blushing furiously as he exits your office, waving a tiny goodbye on his way out. You return it, watching fondly as he nearly crashes into the door frame, hand slamming onto it before he realizes. He laughs at his clumsiness and even from here you can see his cheeks get redder, heating up like the coffee in his hand. 

Work is hard. Being the unprepared heir to an enormous conglomerate even harder. But Seokjin’s right. 

At least you’ll always have him. 

You’ve never been one to develop friendships with your employees, but there is something about Seokjin that’s different. Something about him that makes him a confidant first and a hotelier second. Something about him that pulls you in, an electric, magnetic touch. 

You feel like you’ve known him longer than you feel. Feel like you’re closer than you really are. 

Some people are just like that, you suppose. Some people just make you wish that you had known them forever.

Quite frankly, you don’t think you could name a single thing wrong about Seokjin even if you tried. He gets your coffee order perfect (not that it’s hard, it’s just that you’ve never told him what it is), he does all of his work before you’ve even asked, and he runs the damn resort hotel better than you do. He’s obviously a people-person and can make others laugh without trying. He’s even figured out how to compliment you, a trait that not even grown businessmen have learned.

The days pass in a blur, made quicker by the ease of working with him. Of being around him. Seokjin lifts up your spirit and he doesn’t even have to try. His competence in the workplace is enough to have you coming by the resort daily instead of weekly, hourly instead of daily, just so you can spend time in a place that, for once, makes you feel relaxed. 

Hoseok would say that Seokjin is a miracle-worker. 

You would say that he’s just brilliant.

Honestly, sometimes you think that even Seokjin is more well-equipped to run your family’s business than you are. And you’re the heiress. 

The differences between Seokjin and all other men you’ve had the displeasure of interacting with (besides Jungkook, because he’s your brother, and Hoseok, because he’s the best) become abundantly clear after your second mother-mandated blind date. 

The first one that you went on a couple of weeks ago was alright. He wasn’t an asshole, but also he had the same amount of flavor as the plain white bread that you were served prior to the meal. But no points is better than negative points, right?

You mentioned to your mother that you probably wouldn’t be interested in a second date with him. She didn’t sound surprised. 

Unfortunately for you, your second blind date was not nearly as uneventful. 

The good part about your date was that it was a brunch arrangement, which is unabashedly your favorite meal of the day and also saves you the trouble of having to get all dressed up for a fancy dinner in the center of the city. But that is where the good parts end. 

You don’t know what your parents were thinking, setting you up with a man like Sangmin. Every single thing that you have ever complained to them about a man, Sangmin either did or was. The first red flag was how he showed up to your brunch meeting wearing a navy blue suit. It didn’t get any better from there. 

You know that your parents just want you to find someone and settle down, someone who can take the weight off of your shoulders and get you to stop working so hard, someone who will make you happy and who can keep you comfortable, someone who is something that you genuinely will want to spend time with, but you can’t explain why, with this knowledge of your preferences and dislikes, they still send you on dates with men like Sangmin. 

Men who boast about their money with every chance they get, checking the time just so they can flash their Rolex watch even though their phone is right there, telling you how many fancy cars they own that deserve a woman like you in the passenger seat. Men who try to explain economic practices that your family pioneered to you. Men whose eyes flash with dollar signs when they hear that you’re going to be inheriting your family’s company. 

Your parents want you to find someone who can take the weight off of your shoulders and keep you comfortable? They should let you pick. 

At one in the afternoon and not a moment later, you storm into your office, flinging your bag onto your chair as you groan aloud, staring out the window and fighting the urge to punch right through the Plexiglass. There’s no word for the way you’re feeling, the unintelligible growl that you let out. You just aren’t having a very good day. 

Your desire to interact with men is at an all time low, and yet, you can’t help but turn around when you hear his voice. 

“Knock, knock,” Seokjin says from the doorway, two cups of steaming coffee in his hand. He strolls up happily to you, placing the plastic cup in your outstretched hand. “How’d it go?”

“Bad,” you spit, not wanting to say anything else.

“Oh, no, really?” Seokjin asks, genuinely disappointed. At least someone was rooting for you. You don’t even think you had been rooting for yourself. “Worse than the first guy?”

“Say the first guy was just… slightly stale white bread, okay?” You begin to explain, because Seokjin doesn’t need the details and you don’t need to relive the experience. “Then this guy would be… how would you put it—?”

“Really stale white bread?” Seokjin offers.

“A rotten egg mayonnaise sandwich that’s been sitting in a dumpster for two weeks,” you correct. 

Seokjin winces. A perfect reaction, as always. 

“It was just bad. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” You decide once and for all, moving to your desk and slamming the coffee cup onto the wood. It sloshes over the edge and splashes around the side, leaving behind a ring that you know you’ll have to clean up later.

Seokjin goes to stand by the window, looking out into the back gardens of the resort, all tropical red flowers and vibrant green leaves. “You have a third one, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you groan, the mere thought sending shivers down your spine. And not the good kind. The fact that the dates aren’t even over yet is enough to send you into a tailspin. “God, my parents are just desperate, at this point.”

“Why?” He asks, turning to face you, brown eyes wide and curious. “Are they worried about something?”

“Ugh,” you begin, on the verge of slamming your head onto the mahogany. The problem isn’t that your parents are worried you won’t find someone. It’s that your parents think that it’s their job to find someone for you. “I think they’re scared that I’m never going to marry, or that I work myself too hard and need someone to spend time with to calm down. I don’t understand. Even if I were to never marry, that’s not a bad thing. I can do what I want. I’m perfectly capable of running my family’s group without someone else.”

“Do you not want to get married?” Seokjin asks. The reason, you realize, that Seokjin is so refreshing, a respite from the rest of the executives that constantly surround you, is because he doesn’t expect anything of you. He doesn’t assume that you’ll eventually marry and become disparaging when you suggest otherwise. He doesn’t assume that you constantly need guidance on official matters that you alone have been tasked to handle. He doesn’t assume that you aren’t capable. 

(He did assume your preferred coffee order. And he is an excellent judge.) 

“I mean,” you begin, rubbing at your temples in a desperate attempt to relieve your body of the stress that sits upon it, “I suppose that eventually, it would be nice. But I’m in no rush if I haven’t met the right person, you know? Like, I’m not going to force myself to if the time isn’t right. There’s no deadline to get married.”

Seokjin nods in agreement, mouth shut. One of your favorite things about Seokjin is how, whenever you begin to speak, he begins to listen. 

“My parents are just putting all of this pressure on me to get married because they think that I’ll need someone’s help when I take over after my father retires. Or they just think that I’m sad and lonely. Which, maybe they’re right about the second part, but I just hate how they’re putting all of this pressure on me to go on dates and get married and work hard when there isn’t even a timeline for me to take over yet. I don’t even have real confirmation that my father is planning on retiring anytime soon. I just—ugh!” There really is no better way to put it than to just shriek and throw your hands up in the air. You sigh, dragging your hand down the side of your face. “Do you ever wish that you could just… I don’t know. Disappear?”

Seokjin’s eyes widen when he hears your words, like they’ve set something off in his brain. Even sitting on your tongue, they feel familiar to you. Where have you heard those before?

He seems to wait for another few moments, contemplating what he’s next going to say, like if he just opens his mouth and lets the words flow out he’ll say something wrong. Little does Seokjin know, in your eyes, nothing he could ever say would be wrong to you. 

“You aren’t sad and lonely,” he begins, a nice, comforting pep talk even though you sort of are both sad and lonely. You work nonstop and have three friends, two of which are employed by your family, the other one being your brother. “And you don’t need to rush into getting married if you don’t feel like it, no matter what your parents say. I mean, at least I think you don’t. You’re obviously much more focused on your career and how you want to succeed in the future, and that’s good. It’s something that means a lot to you.”

He takes a few steps towards you, setting his coffee cup on your desk. You look up to him from where you’re sitting in your office chair, letting his words carve themselves deep into your heart, rest within your soul. 

Sometimes, you don’t realize you’ve gotten yourself down until someone is trying to pick you back up. 

“You do have control over your life,” he tells you, and for once in your life you actually feel yourself believing it. “What you are doing, what you have been doing, is right. Things will come with time. You’ll learn and grow more as you keep living. And even if you aren’t looking for them right now—” he says, eyes wide and knowing and promising, looking at you so desperately because God, he just wants you to listen to him. To let his words mean something. “—there is someone out there who will love you.”

The sound of his voice dissipates into the air, sinking into the floor, dust after a storm. 

“You really think so?” You ask, hopeful. You never believed in soulmates but you have always believed in love. Believed that when the feeling was right, you would know. 

(That kiss still lingers in your mind, like morning dew after a rainy night. Like frost settling over the grass. Is it possible that you can feel like that again?)

Seokjin nods, firm and true. He does think that. He does. “I do,” he says. “I really do.”

The third date is forgettable. 

Or perhaps Seokjin has just enchanted you. So much so that your brain doesn’t even choose to remember interactions with other men. They just aren’t as memorable. 

You finish up this round of parent-mandated rich boy blind dates and get back to work, knowing that you might as well make the most of your now-unoccupied time before your mother decides once again that it’s time for you to go on dates again with men you have no interest in. Work, unlike so many other things in your life, will always be a constant. For better or for worse. 

Today, it’s barely even dawn before you arrive at the hotel. In recent days, the resort has become your hub for all of your work, even the work that doesn’t have anything to do with it. There’s just something calming about being here. Something that makes you feel more productive. That makes you want to work more. 

You slide into your office with ease, coffee in one hand and messenger bag in the other, surprisingly awake considering the sun is hardly over the horizon, soft orange rays peeking out from between the trees and skyscrapers. You don’t imagine there’s a lot of tasks of immediate priority waiting for you on your desk, but there’s always other work to be done. Administrative orders, emails to send, requests to be made. Even here, there’s no shortage of items on your never-ending to-do list. 

Seokjin’s not due to clock in for another several hours, at least. But he works long days and longer nights, and he deserves at least the morning off. He should at least be afforded that small luxury. 

Sitting down in your office chair, you pull yourself into the desk, elbows resting on the hardwood, head in your palms. The smell of coffee wafts through the air, thick and potent, waking up your nerves, one by one, sending small waves through your brain. You close your eyes, almost drifting back to sleep, sighing happily. 

Today feels like a good day. 

The hours pass quickly when you’re here, the sun rising slowly in the sky as it always does, day in and day out. You rely on it as much as it relies on you, wakes up this little corner of the world, says hello to the people stepping out of their doors and onto the street. No matter what, you know that the sun will always be there to greet you when you wake and say goodbye before you sleep. Within thirty minutes your coffee is finished, within the hour your emails are answered. 

One by one, you check the tasks off your list, responding to a phone call or two, forwarding some files to your father, rejecting a business proposal and requesting changes to another. You don’t even notice the minutes blowing past you until the sun is high in the sky, and the clock is chiming twelve. Noon, already?

“Knock knock,” a voice from the doorway calls. 

You feel your body relax when you see Seokjin standing there, peeking his head into your office like he always does. He looks much more casual today, a sweater vest over a button-down shirt, looser beige pants in place of his usual tailored slacks, hair sitting in a tousled mess atop his head, forehead peeking through the strands that hang low over his face, brushing his eyelashes. Instinctively, you glance down to your usual pantsuit attire. Did you miss a memo?

“What, no coffee for me today?” You tease, an eyebrow raised as Seokjin enters, coffee cup-less.

“Not today, sorry,” he says with a guilty smile. “I thought that maybe we could get something else to eat.”

“Oh!” You exclaim happily. “Sure, we can order some delivery. What are you feeling? Sushi? A burger? Oh, I know this wonderful brunch place that’s just a few blocks away—”

Seokjin laughs, a hand reaching out to push your phone done. The mere sensation of his fingertips upon your skin are enough to have you looking back up at him, shellshocked, heart frozen in place. “I was thinking something a little different.”

“Like what?” There are plenty of options for the two of you to pick from.

“How about you and I take a break this afternoon?” He asks, eyes wide with ambition. 

You frown, nose scrunched up at the notion. “A break? You mean… leave?”

Seokjin nods. Oh, so you did hear him correctly. “You’re always working so hard. You should take some time off.”

“Ugh,” you respond, rolling your eyes, having had this conversation thousands of times before. “You sound like Hoseok.”

“Hoseok’s right, Miss Y/N,” Seokjin points out, much to your chagrin. “You’ve been working so much lately. Just a little break, alright? We can get out of here and do something fun.”

“Nice try, Seokjin,” you say with a scoff, turning back to the work in front of you. “Maybe some other time.” Which means never, so long as you can help it. 

“Oh, come on,” Seokjin says, a pleading lilt to his voice. He’s beginning to pout in front of you, lower lip turned outwards. “Just a couple of hours, please? We can go into the city and walk around for a little bit. Eat some food in the park, or something.”

You look up to him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. That does sound good… but you have work to do, items to cross off your list. This hotel isn’t going to manage itself, and neither is your life. “A couple of hours?” You clarify, interest piqued. 

“Just a couple,” Seokjin promises, fighting off the grin that’s etching its way across his face. “Please?”

You sigh. 

Twenty minutes and a Lyft ride later, you and Seokjin are standing in the middle of the city, along the streets known for their high-class fashion boutiques and expensive restaurants with afternoon tea. There’s a park a couple of blocks to the north. It’s a part of the city that you rarely get to spend time in, usually trapped in the business skyscraper sector a ten-minute subway ride away, but for that reason alone, it feels brand new. 

Seokjin buys you both a cup of expensive coffee despite your objections, and the two of you walk along the sidewalks side by side, sipping from your paper cups with plastic lids, letting the warmth wash down your throats. 

It’s nice, being out here. Away from anything that reminds you of work. With someone you’ve wanted to spend more time with for a while, now. 

Out here, you can almost pretend. Pretend that you aren’t the heiress to a major global conglomerate, pretend that you aren’t being groomed to marry up, pretend that life is just a little more normal. 

Out here, you can almost pretend that you and Seokjin are more than just friends. 

“Oh my God, Y/N, look at this shirt!” Seokjin gasps, stopping in his tracks in front of the window of one of the most expensive luxury boutiques you can name. You’re pretty sure that Jungkook shops here sometimes. 

The shirt in question is a satin white button-down with hand-stitched birds decorating the fabric, wispy little designs that seem to be fluttering off of the material itself. It stands front and center in the window, a masterpiece meant to have people stopping in the streets just to gaze up at it in awe. It’s doing its job rather well. 

“You wanna try it on?” You offer, motioning towards the door of the shop, a sleek, black one with metallic silver accents. 

“What?” He asks, turning to you with an eyebrow raised. 

You smile, pointing up at the shirt, eyes tracing the drape of the fabric. “Come on, just for fun.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing to have Seokjin marching up to the door and pulling it open, giddy like a child walking into a toy store. He spots what he’s looking for immediately, a single shirt on a silver rack, hanging from a simple wire hanger. Other than the one on the mannequin in the window, there seems to be no other option. 

“It even feels expensive,” Seokjin sighs happily, hand brushing over the satin fabric. He holds it out to you, and it’s so light and pliable that you can barely feel your fingertips touching the material. 

“There’s the fitting room,” you say, pointing to the back corner, black velvet held up by a rod, muted gray paint lining the walls. Seokjin grins excitedly at you before rushing off, disappearing behind the curtain with a flourish. 

Instinctively, your eyes trace the interior, jumping from the hangings on the walls to the decorative shelves, the pastel cashmere sweaters and shiny leather loafers, the silken white button downs and navy striped ties. Every item in this room practically screams Seokjin’s name, and even when he isn’t in front of you can you picture him wearing each piece, picture him in an oversized light pink sweater or a sleek white suit. 

It’s weird. You’ve never been able to imagine things like that. Not even on you. 

The clothes in here are some of the most gorgeous garments you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on and yet there is something else in this room that outshines them all. 

“Ready?”

You turn back to the fitting room, watch as the curtain shifts slightly. “Ready,” you say.

A hand comes out to push the curtain to the side, satin sleeves covering his wrist, but not even that glimpse of skin could really prepare you for the sight before your eyes. 

Seokjin steps out of the fitting room and you almost gasp aloud at the sight. 

The funny part is that he isn’t wearing anything else designed to complete the look. His hair is loose and floppy, like he had brushed through it with his fingers once or twice before deciding it was good enough. His pants are a roomy beige, hardly even complimenting the monochromatic shirt, white with black accents. He’s wearing sneakers. 

And yet, he looks stunning. 

Standing in front of you, Seokjin looks like the kind of person that your parents would want to set you up with. Rich, well-dressed (not that he isn’t already), powerful, educated. But he looks like more than that, too. He looks like someone straight out of a painting, like a sculpture that belongs in a museum. He stands tall and mighty, the hero after defeating a villain, the love interest in an old-timey film. 

God, he looks amazing. Looks like he belongs in those clothes, belongs in this store. Belongs in the kind of life that the usual clientele of this store live in. Something about him is just so familiar. Like he has always fit into the crowd that your parents want you to associate with. Like you’ve seen him before, once upon a dream. 

“So,” he says, interrupting your thoughts with a smug smile. “How do I look?”

He must already know the answer to that. 

You’re speechless. “I—Wow, Seokjin. You look great.”

A hand comes up to rub at the nape of his neck. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you correct. “It fits you perfectly.”

The fabric shapes his shoulders but drapes over the rest of his torso, including his ridiculously small waist. It both hangs loosely and hugs all of the right places. Your family regularly gets clothing tailored and yet you still don’t think you’ve ever seen any item of clothing fitting someone as well as this one does him. It’s as if the damn thing was made for him. 

“It feels like I’m wearing a cloud and a blanket all at once,” he says dreamily, relishing in the feeling. “If only the price tag made me feel this way too.”

“How much is it?” 

Seokjin holds out the sleeve to which the tag is attached for you to inspect, and the moment you see a comma in the cost, you understand why. No wonder Jungkook’s fine with shopping here. To your family, that amount is pocket change.

“But you really like it, don’t you?” You ask, looking back up at him, closer now. Seokjin nods, lips pressed together in a thin line, wanting something that he knows he can’t have. You know that feeling, too. 

“I would get it if I didn’t mind taking out a loan for it,” he jokes, admiring the detail at the cuffs, the way it cinches in towards his wrist. 

“Then let me buy it for you,” you say before thinking twice, because you have more money than you realistically know what to do with and Seokjin deserves it. He looks gorgeous in it and more importantly, he feels gorgeous in it. He emerged from the fitting room and it was almost like there was this white glow surrounding him, this fluorescent halo that made it seem like the shirt was melting into his body. 

Seokjin’s eyes widen. “What? No, I can’t let you.”

“Please?” You plead, eyes gazing up to him. “You deserve it. Plus, you look amazing.”

“It’s so much money,” Seokjin reminds you, shaking his head. “I can’t. No.”

“Seokjin, do you even know who I am? I can afford it, don’t worry,” you assure him, already pulling him towards the register, his old sweater vest and button down still hanging on the rack inside the fitting room. 

“No, I can’t let you. It might not be a lot of money to you, but it is to me,” insists Seokjin, refusing to back down. 

You roll your eyes, figuring out the game that he’s playing. “Then consider it a thank you. For all of the things that you do for me. The least of which is bringing me coffee every day.”

“That’s just my job, Y/N—” He reaches out a hand to stop you from getting out your wallet, his enormous palm cupping yours as you stare at him, fighting over the shirt like two friends with a restaurant bill.

“No,” you tell Seokjin, because his job is to be a hotelier but he became a friend instead. And he didn’t do it just because he was told to. “You deserve it,” you say, placing your free hand on top of his. It makes him look at you, eyes glossy and big and beautiful. “You really do, Seokjin. This is the least I can do to say thank you for being there for me.”

“Ma’am?” 

The lady behind the counter catches you both off guard. “Will you be buying this shirt?”

Seokjin looks down at you in disbelief, almost like he doesn’t expect you to say yes. Like he doesn’t think he’s worthy of a shirt with such a high price tag.

But little does Seokjin know, if you could buy the whole universe for him, you would do it in a heartbeat. 

You walk out of the boutique with a light heart and a lighter credit card, with Seokjin by your side and his old clothes in a cardstock bag with ribbons for handles. Even if he had resisted at first, you’re happy that he caved. He looks stupidly handsome. You’re actually somewhat regretting agreeing that he should wear the shirt out instead. 

A block away from the park is a little macaron store with more available flavors than you can count on both of your hands and toes. Feeling insatiable, you buy a box of twenty-four and decide on the spot that you won’t be leaving the center of the city without having finished them all. The mere scent of the shop as you walked in was enough to send you into a tizzy. 

Seokjin scopes out an open spot on the grass, in the shade of a big Japanese maple tree, and the two of you immediately settle down in the park, the blades tickling your ankles as you set the box of macarons in between the two of you and get to work filling your stomachs. 

“All of my friends are going to think that you’re like, my sugar mommy for buying me this,” Seokjin says, taking a bite out of the lavender one. 

“If you’re really that embarrassed, you could always say that I just gave you a raise,” you offer, peering over into the box to pick your poison. The problem is that you just want to shove all twenty-three into your mouth. 

“No way,” says Seokjin over a mouthful of macaron. “A sugar mommy is way more exciting. I’m just lucky I have a boss with a bank account.”

“Well, unlike all of the other men that my parents have sent me on dates with, you actually deserve to have someone treat you once in a while,” you say happily, eventually deciding on a lemon flavored macaron and popping the entire thing into your mouth. “I’ve met very few men who are as charming as you, Seokjin. Charming and kind.”

“‘Very few’?” Seokjin repeats, interest piqued. “Who dares upstage me?”

You laugh at his brazenness, his attractive confidence. “Oh, no one,” you say with a shrug of your hand. “There was this one guy I met at my birthday party, but I didn’t even catch his name.”

“Too busy mingling to ask?” Seokjin teases, looking sufficiently less confident than he did ten seconds ago. Like someone you had just said caught him off guard. 

“Yes, actually. And you don’t really need to know this, but he was an excellent kisser, too. Really sent me into a tailspin,” you say, feeling the faint sensation dance across your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. “But he ran off at midnight like Cinderella and left only a mask behind to remind me that I didn’t dream up the whole thing.”

“Ah,” Seokjin says with a nod, a strangely succinct answer for a man as wordy as he. A silence settles over the two of you as you continue to eat, slowly emptying out the box of macarons between the two of you, a light snack to keep you occupied when your mouths aren’t running circles around each other. “My dog gave birth a few weeks ago,” he says randomly. “Want to see some photos?”

At your enthusiastic reply, Seokjin pulls his phone from his pocket and opens up his camera roll to reveal a gorgeous terrier with four equally adorable puppies nursing from her, and your heart nearly melts. Nearly all of his most recent photos are pictures of them as they’ve grown older, opened their eyes and learned how to walk, started play-fighting with each other and eventually tracking into new territory (the living room), but you don’t miss the couple of selfies you see here and there. Even with the warped iPhone camera does Seokjin still look positively flawless. 

“They’re adorable, Seokjin,” you tell him, heart soft. “I’m in love.”

“Me, too,” Seokjin says happily. “Two of the puppies have future homes but I think I want to keep one of them. I just love them too much to let them all go.”

“You’ll make a great dog dad,” you assure him, sighing contentedly. “God, don’t you even know how perfect you are, Seokjin?”

He is silent. 

“Like, you bring me coffee every day and do all of your work and never talk down to me or assume that I don’t know what I’m doing. You’ve raised a family of dogs and have shown them more love than anything else. You even got me to leave the office for once even though you knew that I’d be really annoying about it,” you declare, partially to him, partially to you, and partially to the world, who deserves to know that there is someone out there like Seokjin that is equal parts wonderful and generous and kind and handsome and funny and lovable. 

It’s not just the fact that most of your interactions with men your age go sour. It’s the fact that Seokjin is good just because he is, not because he tries to be. It’s the fact that he cares so deeply and loves so much. It’s the fact that for once, there is someone out there who really does understand you. 

“You deserve a break,” Seokjin points out. “You work too hard.”

“Hoseok will be so angry that you accomplished what he’s been trying to get me to do for months, now,” you say. You’ve already missed three phone calls and seven texts from him within the last couple of hours. 

“It’s my charm,” Seokjin teases, a soft watermelon macaron grin on his face. 

“It really is,” you agree, feeling the gap between you close, inch by inch. “There’s just something about you, Kim Seokjin.”

“Mmm, do tell,” Seokjin murmurs, beginning to lean in, your bodies moving of their own accord. Your mouth tastes like lemon and sugar and coffee, but you can’t find it in yourself to care any less. “Because there’s something about you too, Miss Y/N.”

Slowly, you feel your eyes begin to drift shut, craving more than what you already have, itching to feel his lips press against yours, to feel that same fire in your feins. Of course, the next time you kiss someone would be here, underneath a giant Japanese maple in the middle of a city park, the furthest cry from a hotel balcony beneath a starry sky. But something about this is distinctly familiar in a way that you can taste, in a way that you will know once his lips press against yours. Beside you, Seokjin is barely an inch apart from you, pink lips with macaron crumbs hovering over yours. God, he’s so close. 

You want him to be closer. 

And then—

“Aw, what the—?”

The two of you jerk apart to find a giant stain on Seokjin’s shoulder, courtesy of an unknown flying park visitor who has long disguised themselves amongst the leaves of the maple, waiting for the right time to do its business. 

“Seriously?” Seokjin groans, looking down at the white and brown stain that now rests squarely on the fabric of his brand new shirt, an unpleasant splat front and center. “Thank you, bird,” he declares, throwing his hands up in the air. 

You fight the urge to laugh at how uncanny all of this is. “I’ll pay for dry cleaning.”

“No, it’s alright,” Seokjin says, grabbing a couple of the napkins from the macaron shop to dab on the stain. “A little soap and laundry detergent will be enough. No big deal.”

“I just feel bad,” you tell him. 

“Me, too,” Seokjin agrees, pressing gently against the fabric. “Great timing, too.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, dejected. 

Perhaps, if you were a little bit bolder or a little less fearful, you would try again. You would throw caution to the wind and press his lips against his, bird business and all, and never look back. You would relish in the sensation of his mouth on yours, of his hands on your waist, itching to feel that same feeling again. Itching to know that there really is someone out there who will love you. 

But you aren’t, and the moment is over. And you can’t, because you just don’t know how to. And you ponder if you will forever wonder what he tastes like, what he feels like. 

The clock strikes three. 

Some days you come in early, and some days you stay in late. 

Later than usual, that is, because you regularly stay past eight in the evening without blinking an eye. 

But some nights, you just don’t feel like going home. At least, not yet, you do. Some nights, you would rather stay here.

Home is where you’re supposed to feel at ease, where you’re supposed to relax and unwind, take off your heels and jacket, pour yourself a cup of tea. And that is what your home is to you, a place that you try to keep as free of your work life as possible. 

But sometimes, you would rather just work. 

Rather work and feel productive and get home a little bit later than go home and feel like you still have so much to do. Rather work than dwell on all of the other parts of your life that don’t involve work, things like marriage and retirement and your family. Things that you feel like you have no say in, no control over. You go home and waiting for you is another phone call from your mother telling you that you need to find someone. You go home and your father drops by to hand you a pile of late-night tasks reminiscent of how hard he’s been working lately. You go home and even if you’re all by yourself, your thoughts take control over your mind. Your worries and fears are magnified. 

So some nights, you would rather just work. 

Peering out the window of your office, you notice that the stars are just a little bit brighter out here, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Not nearly as clear as they were on your birthday, at a hotel overlooking the town from afar, but clearer. There isn’t a cloud in the sky as the stars twinkle above you, waving hello from millions of light years away. 

Nights like these are too rare to spend indoors, huddled over your computer as you draft another email. Just because you’re still at work doesn’t mean you still have work to do. Well, you do, but you’re trying to be kinder to yourself. Trying to cut yourself a few more corners of slack. 

The rooftop is not off limits to guests. But you know a couple of secret places that can afford you the privacy you want, the space to lie back against the cement and feel the breeze tickle your skin.

When you arrive, there’s already someone there. A familiar tuft of brown hair, an oversized pink sweater. You wonder how long he’s been out here. 

“Knock knock.” Your sounds like a whisper but feels like a shout, the wind carrying the words from your lips to his ears as he turns around, hardly surprised to see you here. 

Seokjin laughs when he sees you, this fond, wonderful smile as you stroll up beside him, where he’s sat with his legs crossed on the rooftop’s edge, looking out over the distant city, the waterfront. “Didn’t think you’d still be here,” he says. 

“I could say the same for you,” you retort easily, setting down beside him. If you were any braver, you’d rest your head on his shoulder. 

You’re not. 

“You must know by now that I practically live here,” Seokjin jokes.

“Well, I’m starting to pay rent as well, so you better get used to it, don’t you think?” You tease back, looking out into the same city, illuminated by the same moon. 

Seokjin narrows his eyes. “I thought that you were going to start taking it easy on yourself,” he reminds you pointedly, one of the lasting lessons you had learned from the day out on the town. The other being not to sit underneath Japanese maple trees. 

“What can I say, I just love to work,” you say, and even though you try to make it sound like a joke both you and Seokjin know you’re not kidding. Work always has and always will be your biggest priority. Never have you lived in a world where anything else comes first. Never have you cultivated that sort of life for yourself. 

“How’s your family?” He asks, a broad question with a loaded answer. 

You don’t even feel yourself letting out a sigh until the groan leaves your lips, settling like dust. “The same as always,” you say, not even attempting to sound cheerful or happy about it. “They work me hard because they want me to succeed. And I want that, too.”

“But don't you ever want something more?” Seokjin asks, but it’s not the sort of question where he wants you to give him a yes or a no. It’s the sort of question where he already knows that you want to say yes, that there is a whisper deep inside of you that wants to have a life outside of your job, your workaholic family. But you can’t. Because your family is counting on you. 

“I just can’t let them down,” you say instead, because you and Seokjin both already knew how you were going to respond anyway. “There’s so much that they expect of me. What kind of heiress—no, what kind of daughter am I if I don’t at least try?”

“It sounds like you’ve thought about this a lot,” Seokjin muses. 

You force a chuckle. Obviously you have. Whenever you aren’t working, you’re thinking about what next you must do, what next is on your list. You’re thinking about how your family is counting on you to succeed. And how you want to do it for them. “I’ve had my moments.”

“Do a lot of people know how you feel?” He poses, looking at you curiously. 

You shrug. “Not really. My parents, no. Jungkook, sort of. Hoseok, yes. And I suppose you, now, too.”

Seokjin cracks a small smile, this lopsided grin that makes you feel like you’re missing something. “So I guess they’re secrets, aren’t they?”

“Secrets?” You respond naively, an eyebrow raised in bewilderment. 

“Secrets, huh?” He asks, sliding another inch closer, daringly so, teetering on the edge of territory that you haven’t touched in years. “I like the sound of that. Got any more for me?”

You smirk up at him, a grin playing on your lips. “Only if you have one for me in return. No freebies.”

He laughs, loud and clear, the sound ringing out in the nighttime air. “Alright,” he says, obliging. He leans in close, lips hovering above your ear. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

“Oh my God,” you say aloud, dumbfounded. “Oh my fucking God. It’s you?”

Seokjin laughs out loud at that, clapping his hands together at your positively shocked face, mouth agape like a fish out of water. He seems very amused by this, for some reason. A reason you can’t ascertain, mostly because you had no idea. “Honestly, I’m surprised you even figured it out from that. It took you forever to realize.”

You’re so scandalized you don’t even have the right words to respond. “What do you mean, ‘it took forever for me to realize’? Why didn’t you say something?” You demand. 

Seokjin’s still fighting off the remnants of his laughter, hiccups escaping from his parted lips every few seconds. “Because it was obvious you didn’t recognize me at first! And I had no idea it was you until you showed up at the hotel that first day anyway. And I didn’t want to bring it up, because I was worried it would have made things weird.”

“Look at us now!” You cry, positively mortified. Seokjin knew it was you the moment you stepped through the sliding glass doors and you still hadn’t figured it out, not even after weeks of knowing him, of getting to spend time with him. “God, I just—I can’t believe this.”

“The funny part is how I knew you had no idea who I was and yet I fell for you anyway,” Seokjin says, but his words aren’t making you laugh whatsoever. 

Your heart freezes in place as they sink in, etching themselves into your thoughts. “You—you what?”

“You befriended me without knowing that I was the man you kissed on the balcony that night, let me bring you coffee and confided in me and bought me the most expensive item of clothing that I currently own,” Seokjin says, a list of things that you loved him for all the same, “and I realized that it didn’t take that kiss to get me to fall for you. It took knowing you. Learning who you are. Who you want to be.”

You feel your heart getting lighter with every syllable that leaves his mouth, every breath that he takes. 

The truth is that no man had ever made you feel the way that the mystery man did when you kissed that night. But no man had ever loved you the way that Seokjin did. Treated you the way that Seokjin did. The kiss was a spark. 

The friendship was the fire. 

“All this time you were right here,” you muse, looking at him. Here in the moonlight you finally understand why he looked so familiar, why the light hit his skin in all the right places, why the sound of his voice had always struck a chord within you. He glows silver in the moonlight and yellow from the halo above his head, he sits beneath the navy sky and lets the starlight decorate his irises, sparkles in a deep brown ocean. “All this time, and I had no idea.”

“I’m sort of glad you didn’t know,” Seokjin admins sheepishly. “We got to fall in love another way.”

Love?

Could it be?

You’ve never truly been in love. Not the way that your parents are, or the sneaky way you see Yoongi looking at Jungkook sometimes when he’s not looking. But if it feels anything like this, anything like electricity beneath your skin and embers inside your chest, then you think you might be on your way. 

“You’re in love with me?” You ask. 

“Kinda, yeah,” Seokjin admits crudely. 

You feel your cheeks heating up, your heart bubbling within you. You lean in close, watching faintly as he does the same, eyes trained on your lips. “Do you have any other secrets for me?” You murmur, the words hot and heavy on your tongue. 

He inches closer to you, lips hovering above your own, this soft, contented smile on his face as he gazes down at you, at the way that you are beginning to love him back, at the way that you already do. 

“This.”

The words barely leave his lips before he’s pressing them against yours, and the moment you touch him you know, you know that it’s him, that it’s Seokjin, that he is the man that you have been waiting for. Immediately your body lights up, electric shocks tearing through your veins, blood set alight. He is so familiar, smells and tastes and feels so familiar, like you have known him for a thousand years and you’ll know him for a thousand more. You get the same sensation you had when you last kissed him, all those nights ago, your body going weak, your skin turning to flames, but there’s something else, too. 

A burst in your chest. A puff of smoke in your heart. 

A fireplace. A little room in your heart, just for the two of you. For you. For your love. 

You think you could get used to this. 

He pulls away after a few moments and immediately you feel dizzy, like his lips were the only thing keeping you stable, closing your eyes as you burn the feeling into your brain, memorize how his mouth presses against yours. 

When you finally open them, there Seokjin sits, kiss-drunk and in love, this goofy, wonderful smile on his face. 

“I’m still angry at you for not telling me. You could have saved us so much time,” you declare, not wanting the moment to last too long for fear that you’ll become obsessed.

Seokjin laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your nose. “Even if you forgot who I was tomorrow, I wouldn’t tell you,” he says, this stupid perfect grin on his face, this gorgeous, brilliant grin, “because I would happily fall in love with you all over again.”

God, he is so beautiful. A dream come true. A happy ever after.

The following morning your father saves you the trouble of having to awkwardly explain why you don’t feel comfortable continuing to oversee the resort hotel by letting you know that you’re welcome back in the central building in town and that he’ll have another executive replace you. Thank God, because that would have been one strange phone call. 

Luckily, when your parents do eventually meet Seokjin, they are pleased to see that he’s been a loyal hotelier to your family’s conglomerate for several years now, and that he excels at his job. You also think that your mother’s just gotten softer over the years, wishing more for you to be happy than for you to be married to someone you hate. 

It’s a good thing Seokjin’s charming. Otherwise, you have no idea what could have happened. But he’s here, and he’s with you, and your parents are happy and so are you. What more could you ask for?

“Your mom really didn’t have to throw this whole party just for me,” Seokjin whispers into your ear as the music plays on inside, this soft classical sound that Yoongi had composed not too long ago. 

You turn around to look back in through the window, watching all of the guests waltzing along to the song. Jungkook’s in the back corner, behind the grand piano, and you can see him throwing winks Yoongi’s way every now and then. The sound of the party is barely audible from out here, in the stars’ silence, in the faint way the night whispers, this distant white noise.

“Throwing parties is her thing,” you explain helplessly. “Besides, you’re part of the family now, aren’t you?”

“Hey now, we aren’t married just yet,” he reminds you pointedly. “Unless you—?”

“Only after my father’s retirement next month,” you tell him for the umpteenth time. It’s not that you don’t want to be married. It’s that you don’t have time. You’re about to inherit an entire empire. You would prefer not to be juggling two major life events at once, if you can help it. “Besides, you don’t even have a ring.”

“How do you know that?” He asks innocently.

You smack him in the torso with your satin-gloved hand, shocked. “What?”

“I never said anything,” he teases, looking off to the side far too guiltily for your liking. 

You place your hands on your hips and turn firmly to face him. “Kim Seokjin, do you want to marry me?” You demand. 

Seokjin laughs, twirling you around before pressing a kiss to your lips, the two of you giggling. “Always!” He declares to the world. “I think about marrying you every day of my life.”

You grin. “Then we will. Then let’s get married. After my father’s retirement, of course.”

“Of course,” Seokjin agrees. 

“What do you think the theme should be?” You ask, racking your brain for potential options. You like the idea of a rustic, cottage-y wedding. Or perhaps a more celestial one. Or maybe, if you wanted to go full circle, a masquerade.

Seokjin smiles. It’s clear he already has his answer. 

“How about Cinderella?”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[ur-favorite-queer-queen]

Enemies to Lovers

For Maribat March day 23 theme enemies to lovers

Master List

“Kent’s coming over.” Damian stated at breakfast, none of the other Wayne’s seemed phased by this, none but one. 

“Again?” At Damian’s nod she continued, “I’ll be in my room or the Batcave so don’t bring him there.” 

"He will also be bringing a friend over from that exchange program his school did with the one in London." Damian added, Marinette tensed a little bit but didn’t say anything else.

"Is Jon bringing a stranger over a good idea?" Tim asked.

"Tt, Kent said that he would make sure the boy wouldn't wander." Damian answered, after 9 years in the manor he still hadn't gotten rid of his tt habit. 

"I'll be in my room then, I don't want Jon or his friend bothering me." Marinette announced to no one's surprise.

“Marinette,” She turned to look at Dick, “Why don’t you like Jon? This has been going on for almost a year now. Surely you could give him another chance. Or at the very least his friend?” 

“Not interested.” And with that she finished her breakfast and went to go help Alfred with cleaning the dishes, like she did every morning. 

Damian watched his younger half blood sister go, frown evident on his face. Marinette Wayne had been living with them for over a year now. While she was now 16, her opinion of one Jonathan Kent still had not changed. 

After Bruce had a one night stand with her mother she had been born 9 months later, Sabine having no intention of telling Bruce. What she did not expect was that 15 years later she and her husband would be guilty of negligence and emotional abuse of Marinette and custody would be handed to her bio father. Aka Bruce Wayne. 

Marinette changed her last name to Wayne and left her life in Paris behind. There was not much left for her there anyways. But she had never told her new family why she was so insistent on leaving Paris behind. More specifically who she was leaving behind.

The Waynes had gotten used to her bubbly personality in the manor, so they were shocked that when they sent her off to Gotham Academy she was dubbed the ‘Ice Princess’ the next morning.

Turns out after what happened in Paris, she refused to open up to anyone. Most days she was found sketching in her sketchbook, always alone. She still got straight A’s and even participated in a few clubs but never made one friend. It was concerning, how much she resembled Damian in that sense.

One day after patrol, after Marinette headed off to bed they started discussing Marinette's social life. Tim had joked that since she's such a ray of sunshine around them that she should meet Jon. 

This idea was met with positive reactions, all of them agreeing that Jon would be a good influence for her. He was also her age so that was a plus. And he was Damian's first friend, perhaps he could be Marinette's.

That weekend they were proven wrong. Very wrong. Marinette refused to be in the same room as Jon, and when trying to gently push the boundaries she had set, she grew hostile. Something they had never seen from her for as long as they had known her. 

One of their first thoughts was that she was scared of Jon, since he was half Kryptontian. But that idea was quickly shut down after Jason brought up the time she roasted Superman to his face. And had no regrets. 

Then they figured it was because he was still a stranger to her. So they had him over more often. But after 2 months they realized that wasn’t the case either. Yet, none of them had the slightest clue why she was so against Jonathon Kent. 

Not even Jon knew. All Jon knew was that whenever he walked into the same room as Marinette she grew annoyed. He knew she disliked him but that wasn’t what he was confused about. What made him confused was that he could sense her fear. She was scared of him, and he had no idea why. 

He thought about telling the Batfamily, thought about telling Damian, but how would it go over that the latest addition to the Batclan was scared of him. Especially knowing how paranoid and protective they could be. So he just stuck to avoiding her at all costs, it wasn’t that big of a deal anyways. 

Marinette didn’t see Jon as an enemy per se she saw him as an enemy, but he was just someone she strongly disliked, she had her reasons. And while Jon definitely didn’t see Marinette as an enemy, the more she ignored him, and he would need to ignore her, started to grate on his nerves. If she was in a room that he was going to enter he would have to wait for her to leave and vice versa. It was getting tiring and he was starting to dislike her more and more to the point she almost became his enemy. 

Today would be no different except for one detail. That detail being a blonde haired, green eyed, sunshine child that reminded Jon of himself. While Adrien was a little too naive for his taste, they had gotten along great and he wanted to introduce him to Damian. 

Adrien had seemed intrigued by the idea of meeting a Wayne. Apparently his father used to be a businessman and despite the fact he was from France and only moved to London a year ago, he knew of how famous the Waynes are. 

Now here they were, in his dad’s car going to Wayne manor. 

“Okay, you remember what I told you right?” Jon questioned Adrien, he was making sure the boy was prepared and didn’t accidentally stumble upon the Batcave or anything relating the Waynes to the Bats.

“Yes I know, no wandering around the manor, it’s too big and I’ll get lost. No staring in awe at the Waynes, they’re not the celebrities the press makes them out to be. And if I see a girl with dark hair, blue eyes, and looks to be a head shorter than me, I am to walk away immediately in the other direction and pretend I didn’t see her.” Adrien listed off. 

“Perfect!” Jon, exclaimed he was going to add more but his dad interrupted him. 

“Okay boys we’re here, I hope you have a good time Adrien.” 

“Thanks Mr. Kent, I will!” Adrien cheerfully replied as he followed Jon out of the car. Sometimes this boy reminded Jon too much of himself. 

“Master Jon, lovely to see you again. Is this your friend?” Alfred greeted them at the door.

“Yep! This is Adrien Graham de Vanily, Adrien this is Alfred, the Waynes butler but is more like a surrogate grandfather if anything.” Jon introduced. 

“Nice to meet you Mr. Alfred.” Adrien stuck out his hand to shake. 

“It is nice to meet you too Master Graham de Vanily, please just call me Alfred.”

“Then you can just call me Adrien, Alfred, my last name is such a mouthful.” 

“Of course Master Adrien, now will you two be staying for dinner?” 

“I don’t know, is it okay if we do?” Jon answered, secretly asking if she would be okay with it.

“It’ll be okay Master Jon. I will inform the others we will be having two guests stay with us for dinner.” Alfred led them inside, “Master Damian should be in the gaming room.” And with that he left. 

“Come on, Damian is probably setting up some games for us to play.” Jon grabbed Adrien’s hand and started dragging him down a hallway. 

Marinette could hear when Alfred had opened the door for Jon and his friend, she didn’t have super hearing but she had trained her ears for listening for certain things. Like the front door opening. 

After a few minutes Alfred had come to tell her the two would be staying for dinner. It wasn’t ideal but she could live with it, all she had to do was give Jon and his friend the cold shoulder for at most an hour. Nothing new to her.

Now a whole hour had passed and she was getting hungry. She still had another hour till dinner so a small snack would be fine. But leaving her room posed the risk of running into Jon or his friend, and she didn’t want to risk an interaction with either of them.

Both of them are with Damian right now. There are no bathrooms near her room or the kitchen. If she hurries it will only take her 10 minutes to get to the kitchen, grab the cookies she made earlier, and come back to her room. And since Damian was banned from the kitchen this week, and both of his new friends are stuck with him, they shouldn’t be anywhere near the kitchen. 

Of course when was the universe ever on her side. She was about to open the kitchen door when someone she thought she would never have to see again uttered her name, “Marinette?” 

She knew the voice. It was the same voice that told her to stay quiet all those years ago when a vicious liar ran her mouth. The same one that said he was on her side then abandoned her the second things got too tough for him. The same one that didn’t speak up whenever she tried to defend herself, instead saying not to rock the boat. And now the owner of that voice was in her home. 

She steeled her face into something cold and emotionless, despite the fear she felt in her stomach and turned to face him, “Agreste.”

“It’s Graham de Vanily now.” He corrected, both forgetting/not noticing the two other people there. 

“Pretty sure it’s Agreste, you know, just like your father.” She bit back, venom laced into every word. 

“He’s not my father, not anymore.” He replied, fists clenched at his sides, staring her straight in the eyes, confusing the other two boys.

“You sure, because you’re exactly like him, you know.” She raised an eyebrow and matched his gaze. 

“I am nothing like him.” Adrien took a threatening step forward and that’s when Damian immediately stepped in front of Marinette, wanting to protect his little sister from this person who just threatened her. Damian was about to ask something but was cut off when Marinette moved around him to face Adrien. 

“Really? Both of you put your own wants and desires above the well being of other people. Your father the people of Paris, and for you it was me.” Jon saw she was visibly shaking, from fear or anger he wasn’t sure. Both emotions were pretty strong for her, and when he focused on Adrien all the boy felt was guilt. 

“Look Mari I’m-” He was cut off by Marinette’s angry shout. 

“You would think that after all you put me through you would at least have the dignity to not call me by a nickname that friends are only allowed to call me. You know, people who actually care about me!” 

“Marinette, I’m sorry okay, that was really dumb of me!” Adrien shouted back. 

“Save it! You can pretend to regret your actions all you want, but people like you don’t change! That’s something you taught me!” Snack forgotten, Marinette ran back to her room and slammed the door. Locking it, she slid down the back of it and just cried. 

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do Graham de Vanily. How do you know my little sister? Why did she react to you like that? What did she mean by ‘all you put her though?’...” As Damian kept spitting out question after question Jon followed Marinette. Her cries were the only thing he could hear right then and there. 

As he made his way closer to her, the cries stopped, only tiny sniffles coming out. “What do you want Kent?” He could hear the shaking in her voice no matter how much she tried to cover it up. 

He sat down, his back resting on the closed door thinking about what he should say. “I wanted to see if you were okay.” 

“I find that hard to believe. You wanted answers didn’t you?” She hiccuped in between words.

“A little bit.” 

“Well once upon a time there was a teenage girl who wore rose colored glasses all the time. She saw the world in rainbows and sunshine, never knowing of the darkness. Then one day a lying fox came into her life, spreading her tall tales. The girl tried to warn her friends and family but they didn’t listen. The fox ripped off the girl’s glasses and forced her to see the world for what it really was. The girl’s love at the time came to her and told her to keep silent, after all the fox’s lies weren’t hurting anyone. It was then she noticed that the boy wore the same glasses she did, only his were much stronger than hers had ever been. But she loved him, so she believed him, that everything would turn out okay, that if it didn’t he would be by her side. 

Slowly those around the girl turned on her, despite her doing nothing wrong. The boy who she once loved left her the second things got tough, never letting her stand up for herself. Soon the lying fox had gotten to her parents, things escalated from there. Now the girl moved to live with her bio family and everything was fine for a time. But then a boy who saw the world in sunshine and rainbows came around, and she was reminded of her past all over again.” Marinette finished her tale, her hiccups had faded away. 

“You don’t like me because I remind you of Adrien?” He hesitantly asked. 

“You don’t just remind me of him. Every time I see you I see him. But you’re also different from him. I don’t know. When you’re all happy and optimistic you're like him, but you also know how to be serious, which is something he could never do. I don’t know how to explain it but I thought if I kept you away from it would be alright. I really messed up didn’t I?” Marinette tried to keep the tears in her eyes from falling. 

“Kind of. But if you want we can start over.” Jon suggested, he wouldn’t mind getting to know the Marinette Damian talked so fondly about, not that Damian would ever admit it. 

He heard the lock unlock and he stood up as the door opened. He turned around and there was Marinette, her eyes were a little red and she had tears stains on her cheeks but she looked much better than before. 

She stuck her hand out, “Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Marinette Wayne.” She looked up to look in his eyes and wondered if they were always so blue. And oh god please say she didn’t start blushing!

“Nice to meet you Marinette. I’m Jonathan Kent, but you can call me Jon.” Jon took her hand and shook it, his eyes looked into hers and he couldn’t help but think they looked so beautiful when they weren’t glaring at him. Unfortunately, Damian’s scream broke them out of their daze.

“ANSWER ME!!!” 

“We better go help him.” Marinette pulled her hand back. 

“Yeah we probably should.” Jon replied but Marinette was already racing to where they left the boys. Jon ran to catch up with her, mentally berating himself for thinking his friend’s sister was cute. 

Marinette on the other hand was mentally berating herself for thinking that someone she used to dislike so much was now cute. Not to mention he’s her brother’s best friend. Well, Damian doesn’t have to know she thinks that.

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I’m back from the dead! As I said before in What If... (which you can find on my master list day 22) school sucks and has been burying my grave so I had to focus on that for a while. But I have this and What If... done and am planning on doing the other days I have not crossed off on my Master List. 

This took so long to write and I’m already planning a part 2. Anyways hope u enjoyed!

@maribatmarch-2k21 

[teawaffles]

Forbidden Games: Chapter 8 / End

“I didn’t know you put steel plates in your coat…… Are you really a university professor?”

“I’ve been kidnapped by a criminal organisation in the past. Since then, I’ve been a bit more careful about my own safety.” [1]

William explained it away without a second thought, as Sherlock handed him back his coat.

With their victory complete, the two men had freed the young noble and watched Alan and his men being taken away by the Yard. Now they were standing in front of the club building, and idly chatting near a carriage.

“Well, I was somewhat worried they wouldn’t fall for our trick.”

“That part was indeed uncertain, but I was confident that Alan would stop the match. He’s the type of person who will not enter a game unless his own safety is secured; once the possibility of defeat is introduced, he’ll promptly call off the match.”

“Exactly. In fact, that guy didn’t even point his gun at you, but just tried to start a new game,” Sherlock agreed.

Although he had also predicted Alan’s movements, he knew it was not an easy task to manipulate their opponent into terminating the match.

William had set Alan up with a revolver that may or may not have fired on the next turn, and skilfully sowed enough doubt to push him to stop the match of his own accord.

Sherlock admired the university professor for having succeeded in such a high-stakes bluff.

“Anyway, I’m grateful to you for getting us out of there, Liam.”

“It is I who should be thanking you. We were able to eliminate some concerning elements which might have endangered my students, and with that we are even. ……However, I do apologise to Dr Watson for accompanying you this far on your investigation.”

“Even if he was jealous, I know John would never hold a grudge. For now though, I’ll have to take the credit for your achievement.”

“You speak too highly of me. In fact, it was precisely because you were able to understand my intentions, Mr Holmes, that we were able to succeed. If it were anyone else, the situation would not have been resolved with such grace,” William chuckled.

In a serious tone, Sherlock continued.

“However, Liam…… did you know in advance that Alan was going to suggest Russian roulette?”

William put on the coat he received from Sherlock earlier.

It was thanks to this coat that Sherlock had avoided a fatal injury despite being shot. But looking at it another way, one might also think that William had predicted that Sherlock would be shot.

To predict the events of their final match beforehand, one would need nothing short of divine intuition. However, the man who had been asked this question simply flashed a troubled smile.

“That would be reading too far into the matter. Regarding this coat, the steel plates were prepared just in case I found myself in a tight spot. When it comes to a fight, as you pursue dangerous criminals on a daily basis, Mr Holmes, I believe you are better suited to use it. Then as far as that last game was concerned, since we heard about it from another party in the hall earlier, it was conceivable that this coat would be put to good use.”

“Hmm…… Well, that’s true.”

William’s humble explanation convinced even Sherlock, albeit grudgingly.

——Sherlock thought over the matter.

Suppose that in today’s case, even without the job from his client, Alan and his accomplices had been scheduled to be taken down. If one were to do thorough research ahead of time, based on Alan’s nature, one could expect him to force his opponent into a game where he has the upper hand. If that was the case, what if one was able to obtain prior knowledge about the game itself?

Indeed, the man who had told them about Russian roulette said he’d heard about it from another social circle. That is to say, knowledge about the game had spread to this club from a third party. Then that party could have also deliberately spread the word about how to cheat.

With these preparations in place, they would enter the club and contact the target. Because they knew the exact game and trickery their opponent would use, they could then employ that knowledge to manipulate their opponent. And a certain detective’s investigation would prove the perfect opportunity to do so.

It was a possibility, Sherlock concluded.

This person had thoroughly examined their enemy’s humanity, the means they would use, and the number of people he had with him, then used that knowledge to vanquish him. In addition, they would have needed an information network spanning the entirety of Britain’s high society, and Sherlock knew of a certain mastermind who possessed just that.

Just then, he remembered how that man had looked at him before the game began, and the feeling that had struck him in that moment: of his entire body being entangled in strings.

He’d gotten the same feeling when investigating some of his cases. Upon solving a “riddle”, it felt as if everything had been designed to be as such — as if he had been manipulated with invisible strings, and he’d felt helpless to resist.

A string that came from his gaze. And another that he occasionally felt manipulating him during the investigation.

If he were to follow these two threads, the person at the other end of them would be——.

Having advanced his deductions up to this point, Sherlock glanced at the man beside him.

“What’s the matter, Mr Holmes?”

That man looked at him with an unconcerned expression.

“No, it’s nothing.”

Sherlock shook his head, as if to shake off his thoughts.

These theories were only possibilities, which could never leave the realm of speculation. As that man had said, it was more reasonable to see their victory as the outcome of a series of happy coincidences. Surely there was nothing to be gained from crudely pursuing this train of thought.

Even so, if it was this man at the other end of those strings…

That thought sent Sherlock’s heart racing.

“Since the case has been solved, let me see you off at the station.”

As the conversation died down, William opened the door to the carriage.

Sherlock uttered a word of thanks as he climbed in, the determination in his heart renewed.

——Just you wait, “Lord of Crime”.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

As he’d stood next to Sherlock, William’s thoughts about the case had also been racing through his mind.

A mathematical formula cannot become a theorem until it is “proven”.

You must solve all the riddles I have set, and prove the existence of the Lord of Crime. Therefore, even if the worst possible scenario — a shootout — were to take place, I had to make sure you survived.

William, who had manipulated the entire case from behind the scenes, smiled once more. As planned, the detective had made it out alive.

The “Lord of Crime” had strings extended in every direction. William eagerly awaited the day Sherlock would follow them and hunt him down.

Thus ended the untold case in which two extraordinary men joined hands.

The crime consultant, William James Moriarty.

The consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes.

The game of geniuses betting on the future of the Empire, continues.

Footnotes:

[1] See Chapter 4 of the manga (“The Case of the Noble Kidnapping”).

T/N: I thought this story really puts Chapter 47 of the manga (“The Two Criminals, Act 4”) into perspective. Also, these events actually took place at the tail end of Chapter 31, before William saw Sherlock off. The more we know!

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

More Headcanon Stuff

Since everyone likes my post about Permits and shit: Here’s more BNHA World Building I use for fics!

Hero School: The Actual Hardest School to Get Into

UA is not, as mentioned previously, that hard to get into. It’s based on a statistic taken out of context, and also because almost the entire country applies but doesn’t get into the hero course.

The hardest school to get into is actually called Shīrudo Academy and is an intelligence-based heroics school. 

 The exam is twelve hours long and you must get a ninety percent to be allowed in. 

 The graduates of this school go on to enter the intelligence-based heroics field. They train for years, learning undercover tactics, code work, information gathering and interrogation techniques. 

 Shīrudo Academy is one of five hero-based programs that do not just include high school but also university. Meaning, you enter the Academy and then leave Shīrudo Institute before you are considered finished.

Second Chance High School-University

Okay not translated because I can’t find like a good translation for this.

Anyway, SC is a high school/university geared towards potential heroes who have black marks on their records, or have criminal records.

SC does NOT accept those who have: Sold drugs, committed Sexual Assault or committed First Degree Murder.

SC is meant to help those who have potential as heroes but have things holding them back. Like Shirudo they are a combination high school and university program. They operate on a ‘Ten Strike’ program in which you have ten attempts to change your ways before they expel you.

 They take extreme cases, or on occasion get transfers due to the Red Flag Protocol.

Red Flag Protocol

I fully believe while most hero schools are allowed to run how they want- UA a prime example- there are some general policies or rules.

One of them I call the ‘Entitled Brat’ rule or as it’s called officially ‘Red Flag Protocol’.

Red Flag Protocol is when a student…

-displays signs of extreme violent behaviour

-acts shocked upon being reprimanded

-refuses to listen to teachers or ignores reprimands, acting like it’s a jok when walking into detention

-being shocked to be actually punished and attempting to argue

-displays Quirkist behaviour to Quirkless individuals or those with ‘weaker Quirks’.

-attempts to establish a hierarchy with them at the top and enable them to bully others.

-displays illegal behaviour

-displays sexual harassment to others

The Red Flag Protocol is used in hero courses as there are multiple cases a year when problematic, disturbing or illegal behaviour is noticed in students who had entered the school. 

 This is due to the status that is given to middle schools that comes from having someone from their school become a hero. As well, there is a monetary fund given to middle schools when they have a student make it a year in a hero course program for high school. 

 With an emphasis on strong Quirks and brash personalities, it’s no schock that these have become a protocol to watch out for these behaviours.

 The student operates on a five-strike program when placed into the protocol. Five strikes, they’re either removed from the hero course or transferred to SC.

Anti-Cheating Board

The ACB is a board sent out when allegations of cheating are made on any test, or when a complaint is lodged that someone is accused of cheating without proof. It is not just for Hero Schools but also for any schools. 

 The ACB is made up mostly of people who are able to either detect lies or force people to tell the truth. All possess Job Specific Permits for their Quirks. 

 The ACB is always working because there are a lot of cheating allegations. In recent history, the Aldera school came under fire for accusing a student of cheating fifteen times and had the ACB called in. Now, they have a member of ACB come in to oversee all testing done to prove no cheating is occuring. The school was fined for their Quirkist views due to the student in question being Quirkless. 

Homeschooling Program 

According to my research, Japan doesn’t allow homeschooling, however, with Quirks I propose that there are some Quirks that could pose a risk to other students. Such as: Quirks that require equipment that if damaged could cause death, injury or other. Or sentient Quirks that are near impossible to control.

 Children with dangerous Quirks as well are allowed to be homeschooled. However once control to a reasonable level has been reached, the child is required to enter regular school.

 A small scandal came about when Endeavour, Number Two Hero, attempted to have his youngest classified as someone with a dangerous Quirk that required more training. It was proven to be false and Endeavour fined for false filing.

Dangerous Quirk Regulation Bureau

The DC is responsible for tracking those whose Quirks are regarded as a Class 9 on the Quirk Scale. Any Quirk that can cause death or injury or cannot be turned off that influences others is under their view and they monitor them. They provide funds if needed to help control their Quirk.

 Often these people enter into Heroics or Military service due to the fact they are regulated. 

Quirk Scale

The Quirk Scale is a scale meant to measure how dangerous a Quirk is. (A lot of this is kinda vague so I use examples)

Class 1: Minor Quirk that only affects the person using it. Does not affect anyone or anything else. Example: Colour Changing Eyes. 

-Exceptions are caused for those who while their Quirk does not affect anyone else, it can make them unnoticable. Example: Shapeshifting. Spinner resides here. Nezu resides here to only on a technicality that he loves to debate with the Bureau on. They gave up and just slap him with a ‘Class 1 but Class 9 danger’ label.

Class 2: A Quirk that affects other people or things outside the body. However is low-powered and does not negatively affect others without it being on purpose. Example: a low level teleckentic or someone can make a small flame but barely enough to roast a marshmallow.

-Note: Ojiro actually technically is in this category as his Quirk can affect others but requires it being on purpose. 

Class 3: Quirks that affect others or things with greater power. A telekentic able to lift larger weights or a fire user able to produce more fire.

-Hagakure is here because while her Quirk only affects her, it can also enable her to spy on others. Sato is here to, along with Sero, Jiro, Asui, and Shouji. Kirishima and Iida are in this category due to a technicality on the fact they can harm others by using their Quirk in negative ways. Otherwise they would be level 1. Similar with Twice.

Class 4: A quirk that only affects others and not themselves but isn’t considered very powerful.

-Note: Kouda actually is here as Anivoice affects animals. Technically he should be a level 6 but as it is animals he was ranked 4. (This changes when they get older though) Mr. Compress and Magne are here to.

Class 5: A quirk that can affect others or cause harm in a way that is more harmful than a class 4.

-Toga is here. Stain as well. Ochako is to. Bakugou resides here to.

Class 6: A Quirk that affects others in ways that are considered to be removing part of their autonomy.

-Aizawa is here. As is Shinsou.

Class 7: A Quirk that can cause damage to an extreme level to others or can affect someone in a way that is regarded as high level.

-Recovery Girl is here. As is All Might, Midoriya, Todoroki, and Endeavour.

Class 8: A Quirk that can cause extreme damage to others or themselves, or a sentient Quirk that does in fact have a downside.

-Kaminari and Dark Shadow are here. Dabi is to. Overhaul and Eri also are here.

Class 9: A Quirk that either can cause death or grievous bodily harm that either cannot be controlled at all, or requires specialized equipment.

-Present Mic and Thirteen are here along with Shigaraki.

Random Laws

Just a few random laws.

Hero School Law of Custody: A Law that states a hero school is awarded partial custody of any student accepted into the school. This law is in place to prevent a parent from pulling a student from the school recklessly or to prevent any contracts being signed without permission from the student. The Hero School may also pull any student from their parents if it is believed to be in their best interest.

Sidekick Law of Emancipation: If anyone under the age of majority earns a sidekick license they are automatically emancipated.

Law of Accidental Death by Quirk: A law that prevents anyone from being charge with murder if they have accidently caused death by their Quirk. For an example, I have an OC called Gas Attack who breathes out deadly gas. She would be protected under this law if her breathing support item that lets her breath the gas into a container that neutralizes it breaks. Or, if Bakugou as a toddler accidentally killed someone with an explosion. Shigaraki would have also been covered under this law when he killed his family.