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stolenslumber · 10 months

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devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes (pjs)

Jay needs someone to pretend to be his girlfriend, and you’re just the person for the job— seriously, you’re almost a professional at this point, regularly charming the families of your idiot twin’s friends who need your help getting their parents off their back. Of course, leave it up to Jay to blur the lines of your fake relationship so smoothly that you catch real feelings; falling in love has never been this easy.

PAIRING: park jongseong x female reader GENRE: acquaintances to partners in crime to fake dating to lovers i guess? lol, college au, vaguely greek life au, vaguely rich kid au, fluff fluff fluff, jake is the mc’s twin bc i thought it would be funny WARNINGS: swearing, kissing and suggestive content/sexual themes WORD COUNT: 14.4k A/N: ik the ages don't line up here shhhh just ignore that okay

NOW AVAILABLE: hang your head low in the glow (companion fic/follow-up)

“WHY DO YOU LOOK SO NICE?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” You scoff, tossing the apple you were just about to eat at Jake’s head. Annoyingly, he catches it in mid-air, then makes a show out of polishing it with his shirt and taking a big bite out of it. “Hey, I was going to eat that, asshole.”

“Shouldn’t have thrown it at me, then.”

You roll your eyes at your twin, then go to retrieve another apple from the fruit bowl. It’s surprisingly well-stocked, given that you’re in a frat’s kitchen. Honestly, it’s surprising that there even is a fruit bowl in a frat’s kitchen, but the president of this frat runs a tight ship.

Said president appears in the doorway just then, snatching the apple from your hands as well as the one from Jake’s hands. “Guys, seriously, you have to wash these before you eat them.”

You and Jake both whine simultaneously. “Chan!”

“I already took a bite out of that, bro,” Jake complains.

“I’m starving; please have mercy,” you beg.

Chan whips his head around from where he’d begun washing the apples in the sink to fuss at you. “What? Why haven’t you eaten yet? It’s almost 9pm!”

“Which reminds me— why do you look so nice?” Jake repeats.

“I had a thing with Mark,” you sigh.

“You can just say you were pretending to be his girlfriend; we all know what you mean,” Jake snorts.

“I had a thing with Mark,” you repeat, resisting the urge to throw another apple at Jake’s head. “It was at this ballroom downtown, and of course he had nothing to wear, so I had to take him shopping first, which made us late, and then his parents wouldn’t stop talking my ear off about how I need to convince him to give up the music major, so I couldn’t touch any of the food there. Not even the foie gras torchon,” you recall mournfully. “We just got back, like, five minutes ago.”

Chan hums sympathetically— he knows how much you love foie gras torchon. “You can probably ask for an endless supply in return for your appearance at today’s thing,” he suggests, only half-joking. It absolutely sounds like the kind of thing Mark Lee would agree to, what with his ridiculously large inheritance and hapless generosity (last month, Mark lost thousands of dollars in some animal shelter-related pyramid scheme, marketed to him by none other than Lee Haechan).

You wave a hand dismissively. “Nah, I’m keeping Mark’s favor for something else.”

Jake raises an eyebrow. “What else?”

“Whatever it turns out I need in the future, dumbass. What’s it to you, anyways?”

“Just wanna make sure the poor guy doesn’t end up trapped in your snares forever, little sis. Yo, can I have that apple back?” Jake turns to Chan with characteristic puppy eyes.

“You’re only older than me by eight minutes,” you grumble, the age-old retort slipping out of you before you can help it.

“No, Jaeyun, you cannot. And don’t talk to your sister like that— oh my god, why do I sound like Taeyong,” Chan mutters, thinking about his predecessor frat-president-slash-mother-hen.

“Jeez, government name and everything.” Jake holds his hands up, relinquishing his claim to the apple.

“In fact, your sister gets to have both of these apples, after I clean and cut them up, because she is a saint for continuing to save our asses from our parents like this,” Chan lectures, unceremoniously carving out the chunk of the apple with Jake’s bite marks and tossing it into the trash bin.

“Real ones get it!” You reach out and high-five Chan.

“That is so unfair, c’mon, man!” Jake splutters. “She gets just as much out of these fake relationships— seriously, didn’t you drive her around everywhere for, like, a month after she went to that wedding with you?”

Both you and Chan shudder at the memory. “Ugh, my worst cousin and the worst guy he was ever with. They’re still married, by the way.” Chan shakes his head. “God knows why.”

“Love conquers all…?” Jake offers.

“What the hell are you talking about love for,” a new voice grumbles. Park Jongseong strolls in through the doorway, hands full with plastic bags promising wonderful things based on how your stomach reacts to the smell.

“Oh, hell yeah, chicken!” Jake cheers. “Took you long enough, bro.”

“Traffic was hell; something about a ball downtown, and— oh. Hey.” Jay stops abruptly at the sight of you, now munching on the apple slices Chan hands you, one by one.

You wave vaguely in his direction, too busy eating to respond. Jay is one of your brother’s friends who you don’t know that well, since you’ve never pretended to be his girlfriend. It’s strange that you two don’t know each other better, actually— as the social chairs of your sorority and his fraternity, respectively, you would usually have a lot to work on together. But this year has been particularly busy for you, what with your senior thesis and your various things with Jake’s frat brothers, and you had delegated most of your social chair responsibilities to your co-chair, Yunjin, who was far better suited to the social part of the job, anyways. You suspected Jay had done the same thing, since the two of you only ever texted to confirm budgets for any joint events.

“You need to have more than one-and-three-quarters of an apple for dinner,” Chan scolds you, parental instincts back in full force.

You shrug, about to turn around and rifle through the cabinets to see if you can find some peanut butter to add to your apple slices when a takeout container appears in front of you. Tired and still starving, you react rather slowly, your eyes tracing up the hand on the container to the veins of an arm belonging to none other than Jay.

“You look hungry,” is all he says, before popping the container open for you and rearranging the rest of the plastic bags on the counter. “Jake, tell the others to come down for food.”

The others means that soon, there will be an influx of hungry frat brothers in the kitchen, and you have no desire to be anywhere near that, so you mumble a quick thank you to Jay, plop the rest of the apple slices into the takeout container (against Chan’s complaints about the contamination), and move to leave the kitchen, eager to be on your way to your sorority house.

The last thing you overhear before you leave is Jay asking, “Why did your sister look so nice?”, and Jake and Chan responding in unison, “She had a thing.”

A few days later, when they’re doing work in the library, Jay asks Jake, “So how long have Mark and your sister been seeing each other?”

Jake’s pencil jerks across his graph paper, a jagged line appearing on the page at the same time that he swears. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“Dude, what the fuck,” Jay echoes flatly. “Didn’t you say she had a thing with Mark?”

Jake blinks. “Well, sure, in the same way that she’s had a thing with Chan, and Yeonjun, and Vernon, and all the others.”

Jay gapes at him. “Your sister dated all of them? And all the others?”

“What, no, she didn’t date them, she fake-dated them! Just a couple of times, mainly showing up to things with their families so their parents would leave them alone about finding a partner and all that. You know how the parents are.” Jake gestures vaguely, referring to the oddities of the world of wealth they were born into.

Jay nods slowly, understanding dawning upon him. Does he know how the parents are? Oh, does he ever. He has always had a good relationship with his own, but they had been more pushy on the whole love thing as of late, with the not-at-all subtle questions his mother asks about any special someones in his life and the unfunny jokes his dad cracks about how he’s still spry enough to help raise grandchildren. Especially unfunny, given the health scare his dad had given them all in the last year.

Jake’s voice brings him out of his veering-towards-morbid thoughts. “But seriously, bro, how is this news to you? My sister’s been doing this… Cinderella-genie thing for two years now.”

Jay’s eyebrows furrow. “Cinderella-genie thing?”

“Yeah, I mean, she transforms our frat brothers into respectable young men with a respectable relationship, but only for three occasions, and she gets the same number of favors back.” Jake wrinkles his nose. “It sounds weird when I say it like that, and don’t get me wrong, I love to give her shit for it, but it’s all above-board stuff. Sunghoon bought her bubble tea for like, three months. Oh, and no one’s allowed to catch feelings, so everything ends clean and neat.”

“She fake-dated Sunghoon?”

At the mention of his name, Sunghoon pops one side of his headphones off. “What’s up?”

“You fake-dated Jake’s sister!?”

Sunghoon shushes him before responding. “Yeah, don’t you remember? It was a couple of months ago.”

Jay’s ears flush, both at how loud he had unconsciously gotten, and at the reminder that he really has been out of it for a while now. It’s not like he’s been living under a rock, but he has definitely been spending a lot more time with his parents and away from his friends ever since his dad’s health scare.

“She was great, though,” Sunghoon continues. “My mom still thinks I made the biggest mistake of my life ‘letting her go.’ But she’s also been leaving me alone about ‘finding love’ because she thinks I’m heartbroken, so yeah, Jake’s sister works wonders.”

Jake smirks. “Sim genes, man. Elite stuff.”

Sunghoon scoffs. “You wish. Didn’t I hear your mom yelling at you on the phone the other day for not having settled down yet?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. Does she not realize what decade this is, I mean, we’re still in college—”

Jay interrupts what looks to be the beginning of a long rant from Jake, cutting him off with, “So where can I sign up?”

Jake stares blankly at him. “Sign up for what?”

“The Cinderella-genie thing.”

Sunghoon scrunches his face awkwardly. “Uh, she kind of has a waitlist, buddy.”

Jay waits for him to laugh and say he’s just kidding, but he doesn’t. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, she doesn’t do the fake-dating thing for multiple people at the same time, and she’s pretty busy with all her shit, so I’m not sure how long of a queue you have ahead of you…”

“Okay, but Jake could get me ahead, right? Cut the line, or something? C’mon dude, I’m your best friend.” Jay is suddenly desperate, remembering the conversation he’d had with his mom on the phone last night, where she had dreamily recalled meeting his dad in college and delicately reminded Jay that he could have a plus-one to the Parks’ upcoming 50th wedding anniversary celebration.

Jake eyes his friend warily. “I dunno, she really doesn’t like stuff like that. Unfair advantages, I mean.”

“My parents aren’t getting any younger, Jake, and you know, with my dad last year and everything…” Jay does his best approximation of batting his eyelashes at Jake.

“Are you guilt-tripping me?”

“A little?” Jay’s smile turns a little maniacal. “For real, my parents have their 50th wedding anniversary coming up, and it would be the perfect event to bring her to so I can reassure them that things are going well in my love life.”

“Are things going anywhere in your love life?” Sunghoon’s tone is skeptical, and reasonably so.

Jay has been distant lately because of his family, but even before that, he had always been known as somewhat aloof and unattainable. Devastatingly handsome, yes, with killer grades and fierce ambition, and a business empire to inherit to boot, but he is also his parents’ one and only miracle child, born after years of trying and almost giving up. Jay’s parents are older than all of his friends’ parents, and their family business has always been that— a family business. Jay has two years after graduation to learn the ropes in the business, and then he’ll be due for an MBA, and then a return to helm the business, but this timeline has recently felt more urgent than ever with his parents’ flagging health. They would never say it, but he knows the only reason they haven’t retired yet is because they don’t want to hand over control of the business to anyone but him. Jay has worked his ass off in college, trying to get there as fast as he can, as well as he can. But his parents also want him to enjoy college and find true love, and while he’s been doing pretty well with the former, the latter has been on the backburner for, well, forever. Who has time for true love, in between classes, fraternity duties, the various shenanigans his friends get up to, internships, networking, TA-ing, volunteering, being on the executive board of two clubs, and eating, sleeping, dreaming, and thinking?

So. No. Things are not going anywhere in his love life, and he confirms just as much to Sunghoon with a grunt, to which Sunghoon wheezes out his amusement.

Jake eyes Jay with pity, now. “Alright, that guilt trip was successful, but more so because you just admitted to being bitchless for so long. I’ll put in a good word to my sister for you.”

Jay perks up instantly. There is light and beauty in this world after all! “Awesome, thank you bro, you won’t regret this, I promise!”

“I wasn’t planning on it, but those are famous last words, Park.” Jake raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure you can handle my sister?”

“Why not? She seems… nice.” Jay is slightly evasive in his answer, and truthfully, it’s because he isn’t really sure what you’re like. All your interactions to date have been cordial, almost business-like, and you and Jake are fraternal twins, so it’s not even like he’s really familiar with what you look like. He is, however, sure that you look beautiful in a ballgown, even if he only saw you in one in his frat’s kitchen.

Jake chortles outright. “No, my sister is not nice. Yeah, I’m definitely going to convince her to help you, just because I think it’ll be hysterical watching her turn you inside out. Good luck, my brother in Christ, because you’ll need it!”

you: hey jake told me abt ur predicament

jay: … good morning, how are you? i’m pretty good myself

you: ???

jay: just being polite. and it’s not a predicament i’m just… interested in your services

you: good for you? anyways i’m super busy right now and don’t really have time to be taking on anything else so i’m just letting you know that i can’t help you out. good luck though

jay: how about coffee?

you: what?

jay: do you want coffee?

you: like right now?

jay: yeah i’m on your porch

You almost throw your phone to the other side of the room. True, Jay’s fraternity house is across the street from your sorority house, but it still feels absurd to think that he’s right there, less than twenty feet below your room. Is he stalking you?

Accordingly, that’s the first thing you ask him when you throw the door open to him. “Are you stalking me?”

He scoffs. “As if. I asked Jake to ask Yunjin for your location.”

“That’s not not stalking.”

Jay shrugs, though he has the decency to look a little embarrassed as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Whatever. I just walked across the street; that’s all. So, coffee?”

You stare at him for a few moments, weighing your options. Truthfully, you were about to leave to get coffee before your first class, anyways, but you’re not sure how long you want to entertain Jay. You decide to split the difference. “I’m on my way to Nat’s, so you can tag along. But I’m just grabbing a coffee to go, and then I have class.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

“Gimme a second; I’ll grab my stuff.” For some reason, your heart is beating a little faster than usual when you reach your room. You’d like to blame it on the stairs you just climbed, but something about Jay coming to find you at your front door feels old-fashioned and sweet, though your rational mind reminds you that he literally just walked a couple hundred feet. He even said so, himself.

But when you come back down to see him leaning against the doorway with his hands still in his pockets, looking out into the street, you suddenly remember that Jay is, like, really good-looking. Despite yourself, you find yourself admiring the cut of his jaw and how nice his hair is styled. It’s not like you don’t know plenty of attractive guys— hell, the guys you usually fake-date are all objectively hot. It’s just inconvenient that you now recall how Jay has always seemed to be the most mature out of Jake’s friends, even from what little you know of him. Unhelpfully, your brain also conjures up the image of him sliding a takeout container to you last week, and the way your eyes had lingered on the veins of his arm.

God. It’s been too long since you’ve gotten laid.

Jay’s voice breaks you out of your bizarre trance. “Ready, Cinderella?”

“Excuse me?”

“Jake told me about your whole Cinderella-genie thing. It would be weird to call you ‘genie’, so…” Jay trails off, scratching the back of his head and looking actually embarrassed now.

You can’t help but laugh. “Right, because Cinderella is totally less weird. Alright, big guy, let’s go.”

The walk to Nat’s, your favorite local coffee shop, takes about 15 minutes— 10, if you’re walking fast, which you usually are. Jay’s legs are uselessly long, but he seems determined to walk as slowly as possible, while also staying silent the whole time. Finally, you reach the end of your patience and step out right in front of him, intending to ask him what the hell he’s doing. Unfortunately, you find that you misjudged the distance, and he almost collides right into you.

“Whoa,” he mutters, reaching out to grab your arms to steady the both of you.

“Sorry,” you huff, embarrassed at yourself. A lot of that going around today. “I just… what’s your deal? I already told you I can’t help you, and then you show up at my door and ask me to get coffee, but you don’t say a single word. What do you want from me?”

Instead of answering your question, he asks, “Why do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“The Cinderella-genie thing.”

You roll your eyes. “Jake has got to stop calling it that. It’s a long story, honestly.” Sighing, you reach into your backpack to pull out your planner. “Alright, we’re already past the amount of time I scheduled to get my coffee and get ahead on some readings before class, so I guess we can sit down inside.”

Jay raises an eyebrow. “You have time for me now? Also, that’s the most insane planner I’ve ever seen.”

You gesture around you. You had stopped Jay almost at the door of Nat’s, and you’re clogging up the sidewalk. “We should at least get out of the way of these people. And yeah, I’m sure it is.” You are a live-and-die-by-your-planner kind of person. Everything is in there— social events, studying time, your various things with Jay’s frat brothers, even things like eating and showering and sleeping. It seems psychotic, sure, but you’re a busy person, and there’s no way you’d be able to handle everything without the strict schedule you set for yourself.

When you walk up to the counter inside Nat’s, your favorite barista— a cute high school kid named Riki— is manning the register. You smile warmly at him. “Hey, Riki. The usual, please.”

You expect Riki to tease you about your usual, which contains an admittedly concerning amount of caffeine, but instead he calls out, “Jay! What’s up, my man!”

From behind you, Jay reaches out and fist-bumps Riki. “Hey, long time no see, buddy. How’s history going?”

Riki groans theatrically. “Horribly, ever since you stopped tutoring me.”

Jay frowns. “Wait, really? What are you having trouble with? I know I’m kind of swamped right now but we can always find some time and—”

Riki bursts out laughing. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Jeez, you should’ve seen your face. Relax, I got a 94 on my last paper!”

“Oh, very funny, you menace!” Jay punches Riki’s shoulder, but his expression eases up. You wonder at the fondness that twinkles in his eyes.

Riki laughs some more, then he turns to you. “Noona, one cup of liquid death coming up! Hyung, what about you?”

“London fog, please. And seriously, text me if you’re having trouble, okay?”

Riki waves the both of you off, telling you that he’ll bring your drinks over to you.

You make a beeline for your favorite spot, right by the large window that overlooks the sidewalk. Jay surprises you for the umpteenth time that morning by easily striding ahead and pulling your chair out for you, then coughing and turning red when you give him a weird look.

“Sorry, I, uh, yeah. Instinct,” he explains, which is really no explanation at all.

“Are you courting me or something?” You try to keep your tone light and joking, but confusion inevitably slips in. Nothing Jay has done today has made sense.

He seems to have regained his composure when he sits down, because he hits you with, “I guess you could say that. It’s just something I think I’d do for my girlfriend.”

You stare at him blankly. “Thanks for telling me…?”

“I mean, if you’re going to fake-date me, you can probably expect me to do stuff like that, right?”

You groan. “I’m not going to fake-date you, Jay, how many times do I have to say it? I—”

“— don’t have time, I know. But what if I could make it worth your while?”

“Jay, you know I’m Jake’s sister, right? We have money. Besides, I’m helping Mark right now, and I don’t do this for multiple people at the same time.”

“Oh yeah, Jake told me about that rule. What if I could take care of that for you?”

You raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll help Mark find a real girlfriend, and then you can help me, instead.”

“If it were that easy, don’t you think Mark would have done it himself?”

Jay waves his hand dismissively. “Oh, please, Mark’s been crushing on the girl in his music class for ages. He gets too into his head about asking her out, so he chickens out every time. They’re partners on a project right now, though, so I’ll just give him a push in the right direction.”

You have to admit that you’re intrigued by his proposition. Everything Jay just said lines up with what you know about Mark, especially the chickening out part. You’d like to see Jay try, and you figure it can’t hurt either way, so you nod. “Okay, fine. If you can help Mark, I’ll help you. But seriously, what’s your deal? Why do you want my help so badly?”

Jay blinks, then he leans back into his chair. “Oh. Honestly, I haven’t 100% decided that I do, yet.”

“But you’re willing to agree to help Mark Lee with a girl in order to secure my help?” You shake your head. “You’re really strange, Park.”

“I get overly invested in challenges really easily,” Jay confesses, showing you an unexpectedly bashful smile. “So I got a little caught up just now in the idea that I could change your mind about helping me. But now that you’ve brought it up, I’ll still help Mark, no matter what. I’m sick of him writing lovesick songs about that girl, anyways.”

“Large iced Americano, no water, four shots of espresso. And a London Fog,” Riki announces. He sets the drinks down on your table right as the bell above the shop’s door chimes and lets in the pre-9am work crowd. He groans and bids you both a hasty goodbye.

Jay eyes your coffee with disgust. “Liquid death, huh? That’s disturbing.”

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it.” You tilt the cup in his direction, laughing when he shudders.

“Absolutely not. I can’t believe you order that enough that Riki knows it’s your usual.”

“I usually see him in the afternoons when I order this, actually, so I’m sure he’s going to give me an earful about getting one in the mornings, too. Speaking of— doesn’t he have school?” You whip around in your seat to stare at Riki.

“He has two free periods on Mondays this year, so I guess he picked up an extra shift. He’s a hard working kid,” Jay says.

You turn back around to see him with that same fondness in his eyes. “How do you know him, by the way?”

“Ah, he’s my little’s friend from high school. My little is Jungwon— cat-looking dude?”

You let out a squeal. “Oh my gosh, he’s the cutest!”

Jay crosses his arms and grins, looking amused. “Yeah, he is pretty cute. Anyways, Jungwon mentioned his friend was having trouble with his history class last year, so I started tutoring him a bit, just casually, since I’m studying history.”

“Not economics?” You’ve heard about Jay’s family’s notoriously tightly-controlled company. Everything is within the family, so you’re surprised that he isn’t getting ready to take over.

“Both. I can have two majors, you know. What’s yours?”

“Linguistic anthropology. And studio art. I can have two majors, you know.”

Jay rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay, I know that was pretentious. What’s linguistic anthropology?”

You clear your throat, not expecting to talk about your hopes and dreams so early in the morning, and with someone who’s only a few steps away from being a stranger. “Languages, and the social and cultural foundations of them. Basically. I want to do linguistic archaeology in grad school, and this is the closest thing you can get in undergrad.”

Jay leans forward and nods enthusiastically. “That sounds really cool. What kind of art are you doing?”

“Oil paints, mostly, and some charcoal drawing…”

Like that, an hour flies by. You don’t even notice the blocks in your calendar getting overwritten by what is essentially a coffee date with Jay until you get the reminder that you have class in thirty minutes.

“Shit, I gotta go soon.” You say it with some regret; surprisingly, you’re really enjoying yourself with Jay. He’s smart, and funny, and a little awkward in a way that makes you think he’s the most sincere person you’ve ever met. And he has interesting thoughts and opinions on history, some of which you even make a mental note to follow up on later for your thesis.

“Before you go, will you tell me why you do the fake-dating thing?” Jay puts his head in both his hands and smiles at you, and…

“Are you batting your eyelashes at me?”

Jay squints at you. “Maybe. Is it working?”

“Not really,” you lie, like a liar.

“Didn’t work on Jake, either. Man, I gotta work on it.” Jay gives up the act and relaxes back into his chair. “Will you tell me, though?”

“Sure, it’s not like it’s a big secret or anything. It’s not even that long of a story, now that I think about it. Not something worth trying to seduce me over, but I like your hustle,” you joke.

“So it was working!”

“I wouldn’t go that far. Okay, so it started with Chan. He just didn’t want to go to his horrible cousin’s horrible wedding, but his sister had been arguing with the cousin about Chan and was, like, defending his honor or something? And one thing spiraled into another and all of a sudden Chan needed to show up to the wedding with an impressive partner to prove to his cousin that he could pull.” You make a face. “Boys. I’d actually met this particular cousin before, through some convoluted situation at one of those holiday parties that our families throw, and I knew he was insufferable, so I was willing to help out. Other guys in the frat heard about it, and you know, it’s surprising but not shocking that your frat has a lot of guys with some sort of weird baggage that prevents them from actually seriously dating someone. It’s weirder that a significant number of them also find themselves in situations where they need to pretend to have a girlfriend, but as it turns out, I’m really good at it— being a fake girlfriend, I guess. I haven’t had much time to date myself, so it’s kind of nice hearing how much everyone’s families liked me as their potential daughter-in-law. Plus, I always get favors in return, so it’s not the worst thing in the world. It’s like the fun part of dating, without the actual time commitment.”

Jay looks skeptical. “Going to family events and schmoozing with distant relatives is the fun part of dating?”

You scoff. “Whatever. You’re the one who asked why I did it, and I told you. It doesn’t have to make sense to you.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m not judging, I swear. I just think that there’s probably better parts to dating, but who am I to talk,” he mutters.

“Ah, yes, Jake mentioned that, too. Bitchless all these years?”

Jay deadpans at you. “I know you aren’t making fun of me for that when you basically just told me that you fake-dated all these guys because you have a raging praise kink specifically for people’s families.”

“Oh, fuck off.” But you’re laughing, almost— giggling? Ugh. Maybe you do need to back off on the caffeine. “Alright, I have to go now, for real. Text me when Mark is good, and then we can talk about our two fake dates.”

“Isn’t three the max?”

“I was serious about not having time, Jay. I have a thesis for linguistics, and a portfolio to put together for art. Mark was going to be my last… thing this year. I went to one event with him, so if you can get things squared away with him, you can have his other two.”

“Okay, fine. Pleasure doing business with you.” Jay salutes you with two fingers.

“You haven’t even succeeded with Mark yet, and you haven’t heard what favors I want in return, either. Don’t get ahead of yourself, hotshot.”

And then you’re gone, leaving Jay to ruminate on the last hour and a half you spent together.

Jake’s right— you’re not nice, not in the traditional sense of the word. You’re kind of prickly, and you seem to run your life like a drill sergeant, but Jay thinks you must be really kind. Aside from Chan, the others you’ve helped (Mark, Yeonjun, Vernon, Sunghoon, good lord) are all variants of pretty boys who can’t talk to women to save their lives but live and die by the words of their parents, who all hope to see them get married sooner rather than later (Jay elects to ignore how he fits into that mold pretty well, too). No wonder you felt bad for them in their plights and wanted to help them; and Jay really believes that you did it to help them, not because of whatever favors you got in return. Like you said, you have money, so it’s not like you couldn’t buy your own bubble tea or pay for a driver. No, he’s seen your calendar, and it’s crammed with volunteering events in between everything else, and he’s seen the way you fuss over Riki, someone you only see a couple times a week while ordering a coffee. He’s pretty sure you’re just a classic do-gooder, and he doesn’t even need your help that badly, but he does love a challenge. Get Mark Lee together with the girl of his dreams is the first one. The second one is to figure out why he cares about proving himself to you so much— it’s not like he’s swimming in free time either, but somehow you’ve gotten under his skin, and he wants to see where this goes.

(Plus, he thinks you’re really pretty.)

When you enter your studio art workshop class, you find Yunjin immediately and pout at her. “Thanks for revealing my location to Jay, traitor,” you whine.

Yunjin grins. “It’s not like the sorority house is a state secret, babe. And I have zero regrets— he’s hot!”

“So?”

“So, I’m sick of you fake-dating these guys because you love to be the most helpful person in the room, and I want to see you actually date someone!”

You snort. “Joke’s on you, then, because he also wants to fake-date me.”

“Eugh, really? What the hell, I thought he was a good one,” Yunjin groans.

“He is a good one,” you respond instantly. You’re not sure why you’re so defensive about him, but from everything you’ve witnessed today, you know that Park Jongseong is the definition of a good guy.

“Well, maybe this will finally be the one that goes from fake-dating to real dating!” Yunjing wiggles her eyebrows at you. “You already think he’s nice, and you didn’t say he isn’t hot, either.”

“I have a pulse, Yunjin, I can tell that he’s hot.”

Yunjin whistles between her teeth. “Wait ‘til I tell Jake to tell Jay that.”

“Do not— and since when are you and my brother so close, anyways?”

She flashes you a conspiratorial wink. “New boytoy.”

“Ew, seriously? Jake?”

“Hey, it’s not that deep. He gets around, too, doesn’t he? Friends with benefits, no strings attached, etcetera.”

“Famous last words, honey.” You start pulling out your art supplies, chewing on your lip as you consider whether to ask her what you’re dying to know. “... So, what do you know about Jay? And do not tell Jake about any of this, Yunjin, I swear.”

“We’re really not close like that, babe, and I’d never betray your trust for dick.” Yunjin puts her hand over her heart solemnly.

“I want you to know that I’m throwing up in my mouth.”

“Noted.” Yunjin sticks the pencil she was using in her hair, then leans back and hums thoughtfully. “Now, Jay… I know what everyone knows about him, I guess. Good guy, nice family, kind of detached, if I had to say so? Not in a bad way, though. I just mean that he seems to hang out with his friends and that’s pretty much it. He’s involved in a bunch of stuff on campus like you are, but I know he had to pull back recently because one of his parents had a health thing— oh no, I can tell you’re already Cinderella-ing.”

You huff. “Jake is so annoying for that. What do you mean, Cinderella-ing?”

“You feel bad for him and now you want to help him!”

“I already agreed to help him, if he helps Mark Lee get a girlfriend, first.”

“Wow, he must really need your help if he’s willing to do that.”

“Funny, he said he isn’t sure if he needs my help, yet.” You shrug. “He’s confusing.”

“Oooh, but you’re interested, aren’t you?” Yunjin peers closer at you. “Oh my god, you whore! You want him!”

“Yunjin!” You shush her, cognizant of the other students around you. “I’m just curious, okay? I wanna know what I’m getting myself into.”

“Sure, sure. I believe you!” Yunjin insists, looking entirely unbelievable. “That’s not surprising about Jay, though. His family is, like, super family-oriented. Introducing them to a fake girlfriend seems like it wouldn’t go well, so it makes sense that he’s hesitant about it. You should ask him for more details when you guys fuck—”

You cut her off with a hand slapped over her mouth. “I’m going to murder you in your sleep.”

Yunjin laughs underneath your hand and flicks you off. “But seriously, the rumor is that he’s never dated anyone in college because his parents had the perfect college romance and want the same thing for him, and he’s always been too busy being the prodigal son and heir apparent for true love to just, like, fall into his lap. Despite the valiant efforts of many girls on campus,” she finishes dryly.

“That’s… a really detailed rumor.”

“Chaewon’s little is obsessed with him, so I’ve heard it a million times.”

You both cringe. Chaewon is far too nice to say it, but her little is stuck in a phase of boy mania so all-consuming it borders on clinical.

“Enough about boys; how’s it going with the portfolio?” Yunjin nudges her chin towards your empty canvas.

You sigh. “Pretty good, except for the human portrait part. It’s really not my thing, but Professor Song was so adamant that I try to include at least two of them by the end of the year. I did one of Jake already, but he doesn’t know, so it’ll be hilarious to see him cry at the senior showcase.”

“Oh, he’s totally going to lose it,” Yunjin agrees. You stay silent on the curious display of knowledge she just exhibited on your brother’s behalf. “Who are you thinking for the other one?”

“Beats me. I’d use my parents, but that feels a little bit too on the nose, especially after the one of Jake. It’d be weird to ask our friends, right?”

“Not really, but your portfolio theme is family, isn’t it? Very sweet of you to think of us as family, but then you’re talking about an entire group of people.”

Instantly, you shudder. “That’s way more than two humans. Love you guys, but no thanks. I’ll figure something else out.”

Yujin smirks at you. “If you and Jay date and fall in love and get married, you’ll be family, and then you could do one of him.”

“That is so not the solution!”

You don’t hear from Jay until a week later, at which point you figure he has given up, so you’re shocked to find him at your door again.

“Morning, Cinderella,” is all he says to you before handing you a cup.

“Good morning,” you return, too dumbfounded to say anything else. “What’s this?”

“Coffee. Large iced Americano, no water, four shots of espresso,” he recites. “I got Riki to text it to me,” he admits quickly.

“I appreciate it, but what’s this for?” You narrow your eyes at him. “You can’t possibly think that one of the favors I’ll ask from you is coffee, right? I’m not that easy, Park.”

Jay looks offended. “Hey, you let Sunghoon buy you bubble tea!”

“Yeah, but he was really pathetic about the whole fake-dating thing.”

“... Fine, I’ll give that to you. That does sound like him. But no, this is because I wanted to ask you something, and I figured I’d take up the time that you usually schedule for getting your coffee.”

“Ooookay. So, what’s up?” You start on the walk to the library, and he’s quick to fall into step beside you.

“I’ve been thinking about how to help Mark with his crush, and I have the perfect idea, but I need your help.”

“You need my help to help Mark so that you can get my help for yourself?” It sounds absurd coming out of your month, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “Wow, try saying that ten times fast.”

A surprised laugh erupts from Jay’s chest. “That was corny as hell,” he says, but he’s still laughing, high pitched and delighted. Laughter transforms his whole face, his eyes slipping into crescents and his nose scrunching with the force of his happiness, and you’re left dazed looking at him like that.

“Don’t tell anyone you witnessed that. I know where you live,” you threaten him half-heartedly. It really doesn’t carry much weight when you’re beaming in response to the mirth in his expression.

He stops laughing to grin at you, still bright and lovely. “Yeah, right. Who’s been coming to whose front door?”

“You don’t think I could walk across the street? I’m there all the time, Jay. So many people in that house owe me; it’d be a piece of cake to get your room number.” You say this with a stupid smile still on your face.

“Right, consider me properly frightened.” The wattage of his grin finally turns down a couple of notches, giving you room to breathe properly. “So, about Mark,” he starts.

“Yeah, this just sounds like more work for me,” you respond skeptically.

“Hear me out, okay? Mark has all these love songs written about this girl, and I found out that she always eats lunch at the same table at the same time in the dining hall on Tuesdays, so I figured he could play one of his songs over the dining hall speakers and then confess to her.” Jay makes little jazz hands at the end of his sentence, and it prompts a giggle out of you.

You have to fight your smile down when you speak. “A couple of things. One: that is so incredibly over the top for a confession, but sure, I like your spirit. Two: there’s no way Mark is slick enough to pull this off. Which leads me to three: what do you need from me?”

Jay nods. “Exactly, Mark could never do this on his own, which is why I’ve enlisted a bunch of guys from the frat, and you, of course.”

“Me, of course?”

“Sunoo and Jake are going to sweet-talk the lady at the dining hall who has the keys to the staff office with the dining hall audio hookup and microphone— she loves Sunoo, and Jake will flash her the ol’ puppy dog eyes to keep her sufficiently distracted. Heeseung will walk past and swipe her keys, and Jungwon is going to make sure that Mark’s crush is actually in the dining hall at the right time. Chan is going to apologize on everyone’s behalf if this goes wrong.”

You tut. “Poor Chan.”

“It’s his presidential duty, god bless.”

“And where do I fit into this?”

“You and I need to hold Mark’s hand, figuratively, and keep him hyped up enough to actually go through with it. He agreed to the plan, but I can totally see him chickening out again, which is why Sunghoon and Yeonjun are also going to stand guard outside the staff office so he can’t escape.”

“I feel like you could hold Mark’s hand on your own,” you argue, but you don’t really mean it. This sounds so chaotic and harebrained that you would normally want to stay a mile away from it, but Jay’s enthusiasm and seriousness about it is rubbing off on you. Plus, it would be nice to see one of your fake boyfriends actually succeed in their love life.

“He has two hands, and I can’t hold them all by myself because I have to operate the audio hookup,” Jay proclaims solemnly. “And I said figuratively! He trusts you, clearly, or at least he trusted you enough to be his fake girlfriend.”

“I come highly recommended,” you intone dryly.

“And he trusts me enough to go along with the plan, so I think we’re the best suited to be his moral support,” Jay continues, ignoring your smartass comment.

“This is a ridiculous plan, Jay.”

“So you’re in? Oh, wait. Are you free at 12:30 today?”

You stop to check your planner and confirm that you are. “What would you have done if I wasn’t?”

“Reconfigure the time-space continuum so you could be in two places at once. Mark’s future happiness depends on this,” Jay insists.

"I see what you mean about getting overly invested in challenges really easily… Alright, text me where I should meet you later, then?”

“You got it. Have a good day, Cinderella!” He yells this part as he jogs away from you.

“Stop calling me that!” But you can’t remember the last time you smiled this much this early in the morning.

Hours later, you smile instinctively upon seeing Jay’s name pop up in your notifications.

jay: coast is clear. meet me outside the dining hall staff office in 5 minutes. operation is a go

you: omw, 007

jay: stop ur making me blush

you: fr?

jay: no this is just banter

you: omfg mark just texted me to say that ur actually blushing

jay: im going to end him. after he gets a gf, ofc

“Hey,” you whisper in Jay’s ear, making him jump.

“Holy shit, how’d you get here so fast?”

You shrug, jostling his shoulder as you’re pressed up against him in the tiny recessed alcove across from the staff office. “I’m a fast walker. Places to be, people to see, you know? Speaking of…” You motion to the open office door. “Should we go inside?”

Jay clears his throat. Up this close, he can count the eyelashes that flutter against your skin. “Yeah, Mark’s already there. I’m surprised he found the composure to pop his head out and see me, or text you, honestly. He’s been a nervous wreck since this morning. Oh, finally, way to be on time, losers!” Jay beckons Sunghoon and Yeonjun closer from down the hall.

“We’re fine; Jungwon says Mark’s crush hasn’t even sat down at her table, yet. Hey, how are you? Long time no see.” Yeonjun flashes you a smile.

“Committing questionable acts in the name of love, you know, just living the dream,” you joke. “How’s your mom?”

“Great! She still asks about you. By the way, if I had known being a little more pathetic would get me this level of commitment,” Yeonjun gestures around him, “I would’ve asked for a real girlfriend, too.”

“I’m told I was pretty pathetic, and even I didn’t get this kind of treatment,” Sunghoon reminds you.

You pat his arm consolingly. “Maybe if you had Jay on your side, buddy.”

“Yeah, what the hell, best friend?” Sunghoon eyes him accusingly.

Jay pats his other arm. “Sorry, I have ulterior motives with Mark.”

“Oh, so now Mark gets a girlfriend and a secret male lover?”

Jay scoffs. “Not those kinds of ulterior motives, but please. As if Mark could bag me.”

“Ladies, ladies, there’s plenty of Jay to go around,” you say placatingly.

“Guys, I’m freaking out in here!” Mark wails from inside the office.

“Fuck, Jungwon said she’s sitting down now. Go!” Yeonjun pushes you and Jay towards the office.

In quick order, Jay gets the audio hooked up to Mark’s laptop, and he starts the song. While Mark hyperventilates between the two of you and you actually do share in the holding of his hands, Jay finds himself staring at you as you try to encourage Mark. You really are quite kind— he doesn’t think many people would have agreed to be dragged into this silly scheme, but here you are, throwing yourself into it wholeheartedly because there’s a chance it might secure Mark’s future happiness.

The sun reaches its highest point in the sky just then, streaming in through the windows behind you and drenching you in golden light. Jay’s not sure if he’s nervous about getting in trouble for this or if he’s just been looking at you for too long, but he can feel his heart stuttering in his chest. It’s positively outrageous how pretty you are.

“Bro, what the fuck do I say?” Mark hisses, interrupting Jay’s very important investigation of the color of your eyes. “The song is almost over, please, you gotta help me!”

“Just tell her how you feel,” Jay offers. It’s not his best attempt at advice, but he’s distracted by the way your hair brushes against your neck.

Mark splutters and fumbles and curses under his breath, but then the song is over, and Jay is turning on the microphone for him to speak. “Um, hey, so, yeah! Yeah. Uh, I’ve liked you for a long time… which you can probably tell, because of the song and everything.” Mark giggles nervously. “There’s, like, at least five more where that came from. Because I like you a lot, but I’m not great at talking in person, so I wrote all these songs, and oh god, this is super weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry if it’s weird, I just, well, I wanted to tell you. What I feel for you is so big I think I might explode; it makes me lose my mind and my breath and my ability to speak, and it leads me to do stupid stuff like this. And now you know. Okay, cool!” Mark reaches over and slams his hand to turn off the microphone.

You and Jay share an exasperated look over Mark’s head.

“Mark, you didn’t even say who the song is for,” you remind him.

He pales. “I didn’t?”

“Or who it’s from, but I think that part is pretty obvious,” Jay sighs. “Just text her right now, and tell her it was from you, and ask her out!”

“What? No, I can’t do that, I think I’m gonna be sick,” Mark moans.

You roll your eyes. “Mark, do it right now, or I’m telling your mom you cheated on me.”

“What? But I didn’t! And we weren’t even dating for real! And I just told her we broke up!”

“Right, I’ll say we broke up because you cheated on me.” You stare him down. “Seriously, I’ll call her tonight.”

“Nonono, I’ll text Mina, okay? See, I’m texting her right now.” Mark pulls out his phone and types frantically.

Jay throws his arm around Mark’s shoulder, using the leverage to hit the send button on his phone. “See, that wasn’t so hard!”

“I need to go walk into traffic,” Mark declares.

You smile breezily at him. “Sure, whatever. Love conquers all!” Behind his back, you and Jay high-five.

Jay says you should have dinner to celebrate Mark and Mina’s new romance (ignoring Mark’s pained “What romance? I’m dying.”), but you tell him that you’re volunteering at the community kitchen that night. Jay doesn’t miss a beat. “Sure, I’ll be there. We should talk about my thing, anyways.”

That’s how he finds himself in a hairnet and disposable gloves that night, making funny faces at the head of the community kitchen’s daughter, who’s running around underfoot. He’s been put in charge of chopping vegetables, while you’re stirring a huge pot of stew at one of the stoves.

“Watch your fingers,” you scold him half-heartedly. He’s devastatingly cute like this.

He has the audacity to wink at you. “I know my way around a kitchen, don’t worry.”

“Very cool, trophy husband.”

“What, no more 007?”

“Depends on the outcome of Mark’s text to Mina. Did you hear anything from him?”

Jay scoops up his vegetables into a large bowl and brings it over to you, nudging you aside with his hip so he can add the vegetables to your pot. “Not yet, but I don’t have him freaking out in my messages either, so I’ll take that as a win.”

You let him take over the stirring and turn around to lean against the countertop. “Cute hairnet,” you quip.

“Thanks. You think they’ll let me take it home?” he jokes.

You nudge your chin in the direction of the little girl giggling at Jay. “I think she wants to take you home.”

He winks at her, then lowers his voice so that only you can hear him say, “She’ll have to get in line.”

You swallow and wonder if the stove is turned on too high. “Right, so what’s your thing about?”

“Later, yeah?” Jay gestures around you, and you suddenly remember that you’re in the middle of a busy kitchen, with everyone hustling to get ready for the dinner service starting in half an hour.

You spring into action again, embarrassed at how easily you’d been absorbed into conversation with Jay. Something about the way he talks to you makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world— he’s always so attentive, nodding and responding to your every comment. You have to wonder why he hasn’t dated anyone seriously in college; he seems like he’d be the dream boyfriend. Hypothetically.

He only proves this point further when he reveals two containers of mac and cheese that he had picked up before getting there, which he microwaves for the two of you to eat after the dinner service is over. You turn on the lights in one corner of the cafeteria and sit at the only table that’s still left out: a children’s table where you have to balance precariously on seats that are too small for you. But it’s entirely worth it, knocking knees and elbows together, laughing too hard for what the situation warrants.

“I would’ve made you something myself, but I didn’t want to use up the kitchen’s ingredients,” Jay comments off-handedly.

Your heart glows in your chest. “That’s really thoughtful, Jay.”

He smiles and scratches the back of his head, suddenly shy. “Nah, it’s common sense, right? Come on, eat before it gets cold.”

Right then and there, Jay learns that he loves to watch you eat. You make exaggerated faces and ooh and ahh over something as simple as mac and cheese from the 24-hour diner down the street, and he finds himself itching to make something with his own two hands that will make you react like that.

When you’re done eating, you sit back and sigh in satisfaction. “That was exactly what I needed. Now, tell me about your thing— what kind of mess have I gotten myself into?”

Jay hems and haws for a good minute before finally telling you about his parents’ upcoming 50th wedding anniversary. “It’s a little complicated because they had this, like, fairytale relationship, and of course I’m happy that they’re still so in love all these years later, but it’s kind of… a lot to live up to. Not that I’m complaining, because they’re awesome, but I don’t have that kind of relationship with anyone yet, so I haven’t brought anyone home to them.”

“So the rumors are true,” you mutter under your breath.

Unfortunately, Jay seems to have heard you. “What rumors?”

Flushing, you explain what you’d heard from Yunjin, who had heard it from Chaewon’s little. You’re quick to add, “I wasn’t asking around about you or anything!”

Jay just smirks at you, something wicked and slow that only contributes to the heat in your cheeks. “I didn’t say anything.”

You hesitate before speaking up again. “So, if you don’t mind me asking… How come you haven’t dated anyone long-term in college? You’re, you know, perfectly okay to look at.”

Jay deadpans at you. “Wow, thanks, that really means a lot to me.”

You let out a huff of a laugh. “Shut up, it’s not a secret that you’re hot.”

Jay’s eyebrows shoot up, and you swear to god, he blushes to high heaven. “Th-Thanks.”

“Mm.”

It’s silent for a few long moments, then Jay clears his throat. “If I’m being honest, I haven’t dated anyone long-term in college because my parent’s relationship is a lot to live up to, and it’s not like I have a ton of time to find my perfect life partner in between everything else.”

“Ugh, tell me about it. Yunjin tells me I should try actually dating again, but it’s kind of a lot, right? Putting in the time and effort to get to know someone from scratch, when you’re not even sure how it’s going to pan out? And you’ve seen my calendar.” You laugh quietly. “And, honestly, I have this problem with dating where I get bored pretty easily.”

Jay leans forward, pushing into your personal space close enough to count your eyelashes, again. “Are you bored right now?”

“No,” you answer, although you’re not sure why he’s asking. “Um, so, why do you need a fake girlfriend, then? I don’t think it’ll pass muster with your parents, if they want you to be in love for real.”

Jay fidgets with his fingers on top of the table. “Yeah, it’s kind of stupid, to be honest. My dad was hospitalized for a month last year, and it really shook us all. My parents are on the older side, and I’m their only child, and, well, I’d like to make them happy while they’re still around. Sorry, that was morbid. And I know it’s not like we’d be doing this forever, and it’s wrong to fake it, but still. They’d be overjoyed to see me in a relationship. I want to give that to them, even if it’s only twice.” He tells it to you like it’s a secret, and your chest caves in with the force of his sincerity.

“I don’t think that’s stupid. It’s sweet, Jay, really.” You reach out and still his fingers. “Listen, you know I’m really good at being a fake girlfriend, right?”

“You come highly recommended,” he mimics you from earlier, mouth quirking up in the beginnings of a smile. It lifts the atmosphere slightly, and you’re glad for it.

“Right, so don’t worry. Leave it to me. Your parents won’t suspect a thing,” you promise. “When’s the anniversary celebration?”

“Six weeks.”

You pull out your planner to start scheduling. “Great, so you can send me information about yourself, and I’ll do the same for you, and then we can find time to meet up and quiz each other about it and get our answers on our relationship straight—”

Jay’s hand lands around your wrist, stopping you from writing further. “Not that I don’t appreciate your… efficiency, but I don’t think that’s going to work. Like you said, my parents want to see a true relationship, and I don’t think flashcards are going to cut it. How about we just… get to know each other?”

You blink. “What, like daily one-on-ones, or something? Office hours, but just for each other?”

He bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, you’re serious, aren’t you?” He lets go of your wrist to hide his face behind his hands as he continues to laugh, which makes you smile despite yourself. He’s so goddamn cute.

You decide to humor him. “What do you suggest, then?”

“As much as I would love to monopolize your time, I don’t actually want to take up any of the precious few free spots on your calendar. You need to set aside more time for yourself, by the way. But for now, how about you give me the thirty minutes you schedule for getting to Nat’s and then back to campus every day? We can get to know each other then.”

“You want to walk me to the coffee shop and back?”

“Among other things.”

“… Such as?”

“Just you wait, Cinderella. I’m going to sweep you off your feet so hard, you won’t know what hit you. I’ll be the best fake boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

In the dim light of the after-hours cafeteria, with his long legs stretched out on either side of yours and the soft crescents of his smiling eyes twinkling at you, you’re inclined to believe him.

Jay keeps his word. He shows up on the sorority house’s porch every morning, backpack slung over his shoulder and hands in his pockets at 7:45am. He doesn’t even have class until 11am (you know because you asked Yunjin to ask Jake), so his dedication impresses you. Sometimes, you’ll watch him approach the house from your window, bopping his head along to whatever he’s listening to in his earbuds.

When you open the door to greet him, he always smiles sleepily at you and reaches out to grab whatever’s in your hands (usually art supplies or heavy reference books for your thesis). It’s a small gesture, but it shoots through your cotton-candy-soft heart as true and straight as an arrow.

Most mornings, the two of you will chat about anything and everything, swinging from homework to Greek life drama to pet peeves to Mesopotamian history. Occasionally, you’re both tired from your busy schedules and just end up sharing his earbuds, listening to something slow and soothing. More and more often, you find yourself stuffing supplies and books into your backpack until it’s grossly misshapen, just so Jay can have his hands free to brush against yours on the walk to Nat’s.

It’s not just the coffee shop, either. Suddenly, he’s everywhere in your life, as if someone had penciled in his name as one long continuous block in your calendar. He comes to the library with you, and you work on your assignments in companionable silence. He’s now a regular volunteer at the community kitchen, and he’s helping them design a new menu for the colder days coming soon. He even shows up outside the studio art workshop, bringing you takeout when you’ve forgotten to eat. At parties, the two of you dominate beer pong, with him bouncing balls off of his bicep into the cups just to make you fake your fawning adoration at him. He doesn’t have to know that it comes easily to you, especially when he’s constantly looking at you the way you know you look at beautiful works of art.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were actually courting me,” you comment thoughtlessly one day. You’re perched on the kitchen counter at the frat, watching Jay make ramen for the two of you. It’s almost three in the morning, and neither of you should be awake, but there’s something special about the quiet privacy afforded by the strange hour.

Jay forces himself to keep stirring the pot like usual. If he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t know any better, either, but he doesn’t want to look too closely into that at the moment. Instead, he opts to flirt. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, that’s why I said it, smartass.” But you let him off the hook, now preoccupied with reaching over to re-tie his apron.

“Ooh, ramen!” Jungwon’s face lights up as he walks into the kitchen, led by his nose. He looks like he just woke up, rubbing at his eyes with the ends of his sweatshirt sleeves. You have to stop yourself from cooing at him.

“What are you doing up so late?” Jay scolds him gently.

“Oh, hey, Dad. Hey, Mom. I just woke up; I had a weird dream.” Jungwon nods at you both and takes a seat at the kitchen island.

You gape at him. “What?”

Jungwon blinks a couple of times, looking more alert by the second. “Oops. Did I say that out loud? Sorry, Niki’s been rubbing off on me.”

“Niki calls us Mom and Dad?” You’re not sure if that’s sweet or weird.

“As a joke! In a jocular manner. Jovially.” Jungwon throws up a peace sign, as if that helps.

“I’m glad to see the English degree is paying off,” Jay remarks dryly. He looks like he took the Mom-and-Dad thing much more in stride, except for the tips of his ears, which burn red. It’s a dead giveaway that makes you smile fondly, because it’s so him.

“Will you make some more ramen?” Jungwon bats his eyelashes at the two of you.

“See, it works much better when Jungwon does it,” you tease Jay.

“Can’t argue with you there, honestly.” Jay puts another pot of water on the stove to boil. “You should have more than just sodium and carbs, though,” he tells Jungwon.

You nod, hopping off of the counter to rummage through the fridge. “Yeah, you don’t eat enough vegetables. Maybe that’s why you’re having weird dreams. Aha!” You emerge triumphantly with a salad kit.

Jungwon laughs. “And you wonder why Niki calls you Mom and Dad.”

Jay scoffs. “That’s just because he hasn’t met Chan.”

“Fair enough. What are you guys doing here so late, anyways?”

You pause in assembling the salad to point a salad tong at Jay. “This guy just follows me everywhere.”

“We’re in my frat house,” Jay retorts.

“I could be here for someone else,” you argue.

Jay’s gaze pins you down, warm and earnest. “You’re not, though.”

You smile at him. “No, I’m not.”

Jungwon coughs. “Get a room.”

You reach over to ruffle his hair. “You’re standing in it.”

The three of you eat your ramen and salad in silence for a bit, all falling victim to varying degrees of sleepiness. Without noticing it, you’re scooched up next to Jay, shoulders and knees and ankles pressed together in one long line of comfortable intimacy.

Jay thinks about Jungwon’s question as he slurps at the noodles. What are you guys doing here so late? The answer almost eludes him. These days, he finds himself drawn to you like a magnet, pulled in by forces far stronger than himself.

He remembers that the two of you had been doing work in his room after the main library had closed, and you had fallen asleep on his bed at some point, a sketchbook dangling from your fingers. He had spent a ridiculous amount of time admiring your sleeping form, indulging in his favorite pastime of counting your eyelashes and resisting the urge to lay beside you. Eventually, your stomach had woken you up, and he insisted on making you some food, even if it wasn’t as nice as he would have liked to do for you. Now, looking at you chatting and joking with Jungwon, Jay feels his heart expanding into his lungs. You fit into his life so perfectly, and he’d like to think that he fits into yours, too. It’s almost too good to be true— could this be what his parents started with?

When you’re done eating, Jungwon waves the two of you away, insisting that he should do the dishes since you cooked. You’re not about to argue with that, so you pat him on the shoulder before following Jay back up to his room.

“He’s a good kid,” you tell Jay as you hop on his bed again, grabbing your sketchbook to pick up where you left off.

“He is.” Jay tuts at you. “And you should go to sleep.”

“I will, I will, just let me finish this sketch, okay? Besides, I don’t see you turning your laptop off, either.” You jut your chin out stubbornly.

Jay glances at the Wikipedia rabbit hole he’d been going down before your stomach had growled loudly an hour ago. He’s done with his work for the day, and he had just been keeping you company for the last two hours. “I have super important, time-sensitive work to finish,” he lies solemnly.

“Jay, I can see that you have the Wikipedia page for sinkholes open.”

He slams his laptop shut. “Actually, I’m done,” he declares, flopping down on the bed beside you. He turns his cheek from where he’s level with your stomach to look up at your hands moving across the page. “What are you working on in there?”

You make a displeased face. “People. I have to do one more human portrait for my portfolio, and it’s driving me nuts. Here, this one is of you.”

Jay lifts his head, astonished to see himself reflected back on the page. In smooth, sure strokes, you’ve captured him in tender detail: strong jaw, sharp eyes, and mouth twisted in concentration, probably from earlier when he’d actually been doing work. Jay’s jaw works as he struggles to figure out what to say. He’s unbelievably touched that you would draw him. “Can I keep this?” he asks finally.

“It’s not even done yet. And it’s not that good,” you warn him.

“It is to me. C’mon, please?”

“Maybe when I finish…” You trail off, swayed by the senseless patterns he’s tracing on top of your knee. “Which I won’t, if you keep distracting me.”

He smirks and stills his hand, looking like he’s about to tease you before he interrupts himself with a yawn. “Alright, goodnight, Cinderella.”

“'Night, 007.”

When he wakes up the next morning, he finds the lingering scent of your shampoo and a complete sketch of himself, now decked out in a tux worthy of James Bond. It makes him laugh out loud, and he knows he’s in trouble when he slides out a picture of him with his cousins from a picture frame to put your sketch in the frame, instead.

Before you know it, the day of the Parks’ wedding anniversary celebration has arrived. You’re on a four-way FaceTime call, with Chaewon lounging on your bed as you try on various dresses.

Kazuha is more invested in asking you about your relationship than helping you decide what to wear. “I’m just saying, I think it’s interesting that you and Jay have been, like, glued together for well over a month.”

“We’re getting to know each other better, so we don’t mess up in front of his parents,” you explain for the millionth time.

Kazuha wiggles her eyebrows at you. “Suuuure. Why didn’t you just send him one of those scarily detailed questionnaires like you did with all the other guys you fake-dated?”

Chaewon motions for you to spin in the billowy dress you’re currently in. “Too beachy,” she decides. “But ditto to what Kazuha said.”

“It’s because she like-likes him,” Sakura sing-songs.

You stick your tongue out at her. “Grow up, will you?”

“Forget about that— have you guys hooked up yet?” Yunjin demands.

“Yet? No, Yunjin, what the fuck,” you complain.

“Gross,” a familiar voice groans from Yunjin’s corner of the FaceTime. You, Kazuha, Sakura, and Chaewon all zero in on her square.

“Jake?” You exclaim.

Yunjin giggles and moves the camera to show Jake sitting at his desk in his room, wearing his nerdy glasses and hunched over a textbook.

“Did you guys just hook up?” Kazuha blurts out.

“Gross,” you repeat.

Yunjin rolls her eyes. “Grow up, will you? And no, I’m just here because it was too loud at the house.”

The rest of you fall silent on the call, especially you and Chaewon, demonstrating how decidedly not loud it is in the sorority house.

Yunjin blushes and clears her throat. “Whatever. Hey, you should totally wear that sparkly navy velvet number! The one that cinches at your waist.”

You rummage around in your closet and pull out the dress in question to try it on. “This one?”

Sakura whistles. “Oh, for sure. Good eye, Jen.”

Yunjin blows her a kiss. “Of course, of course.” She points at you. “That’s the one, babe. You have, like, the sluttiest waist ever, second only to Sunghoon; you have to wear that.”

Sounds of agreement abound, except from Jake, who whines, “You guys don’t think I have a slutty waist?”

“You’re a whore in other ways, don’t worry,” you reassure him dryly. You do another spin for Chaewon. “This isn’t too much, though?”

Jake suddenly pops into view of the camera. “It’s a formal event, and Jay is going to lose his mind no matter what you wear, trust me.”

“That’s not the point,” you insist.

The girls respond in unison, “Yes, it is!”

And you have to admit, the way Jay’s mouth stays open as he gives you the once-over a few hours later is gratifying, to say the least. For good measure, he does it again, letting his eyes linger at the dip between your collarbones and the curve of your mouth.

Molten heat spreads through you in response to his wandering eyes, ratcheting up in intensity when he smirks at you, purposeful and knowing.

You elect to check him out, too, knowing that you’re not the only person who can get flustered here. He cuts an unbelievable figure against the setting sun, leaning against his sleek black car, hands in his pockets and legs crossed at the ankles. The tuxedo he wears fits criminally well, emphasizing his broad shoulders and long legs, and you can’t stop yourself from wondering what he’d look like taking his tie off. On second thought, this may have backfired; you only find yourself feeling warmer the longer you stare at him.

Thankfully, he starts moving, coming up to the porch to hand you a bouquet of baby’s breath.

“Oh, good idea— should I hand these to your mom or your dad?” You ask, taking the flowers from him.

He laughs, surprised. You are too cute for his own good. “The flowers are for you, Cinderella. My parents and I are allergic to pollen, actually.”

“Oh.” You hold the flowers closer to your chest, giddiness touching you from head to toe. He got you flowers, even though he’s allergic. “Thank you, Jay.”

He hums and reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “Happy to do it. I saw the flowers in your room dying the other day. Go put them inside; I’ll wait out here. I can feel Chaewon’s stare drilling into the top of my head, anyways.” He looks up and waves at Chaewon, who’s hanging out of your window shamelessly.

She shouts, “Have her home by midnight, or she’ll turn into a pumpkin!”

“I don’t think that’s how it goes, but okay!” He throws her a thumbs-up.

Inside the house, you’re seized with the urge to splash some water on your face, just to calm yourself down, but that would ruin your makeup. Instead, you place the flowers in a vase of water and trust that Chaewon will bring them up to your room for you, after she’s done heckling Jay.

“Leave my guy alone,” you yell in her direction, pulling at his arm to get him down the stairs and to his car.

“Your guy, huh?” Jay looks at you with uncontrollable fondness.

“Just for the night,” you say, but you don’t miss the way his smile widens at the way you don’t deny it.

Ever the gentleman, Jay opens the passenger door for you, helping you gather the ends of your dress and tucking them in under your legs. He remains crouched for a moment, looking like he’s debating with himself about something, and then he goes for it, leaning over and buckling you in.

When you raise an eyebrow at him, all he says is, “Precious cargo,” and then he’s shutting the door, leaving you flushing once more.

The car ride to his parent’s place is easy and comfortable, even with the charged atmosphere that lingers between the two of you. Conversation always flows like water with Jay; you’re debating the finer points of how to determine provenance for historical artifacts when you arrive. Guests are littered across the front lawn, conversing with each other but centered around his parents.

Suddenly, you’re nervous. “Do you think they’ll like me?” You ask Jay.

He looks at you like you’ve grown another head. “Are you serious? Of course they will. You’re you.”

You swat at his shoulder even as you smile widely. “Your unconditional faith in me notwithstanding, I’m serious, Jay. I want to be able to live up to this fairytale romance thing.”

He takes your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Believe me, you’re a dream come true. Let’s go, Cinderella.”

You gulp and curse your thundering heart, but then you’re five feet away from his parents, and you’re exclaiming at how in love they look, all these years later. Jay’s dad is distinguished in salt-and-pepper hair, and his mom is all smiles when she tells you that you’re too pretty for Jay.

“Mom,” he whines.

“Oh alright, come here, my beautiful boy.” She brings him in for a hug and beams when he kisses her cheek. Your heart melts like ice cream in the summer; he’s a mama’s boy, through and through.

Jay’s dad asks, “So, how did you meet?”

You open your mouth, prepared with your story. “I’m Jay’s friend’s twin sister, and then we kind of got caught in a scheme to help one of our other friends ask out the girl he liked, and we just got closer after that. Jay’s easy to like.” So far, it’s all true.

Jay doesn’t look like he’s faking anything when he continues, though. “She’s easy to love.”

“Way to one-up me,” you joke, but you feel like you’re floating, cradled by the buoyancy of the affection in his eyes.

“Seriously, she’s so smart it makes my head spin, and her heart shines brighter than the sun. She makes me laugh and work harder to keep up, and I’m lucky to just stand by her side. Being with her is the most natural thing in the world, like breathing, or my heart beating.” Jay doesn’t take his eyes off of you the whole time he’s speaking; he wants to commit every change in your expression to memory, from surprise to fondness to something deeper.

Jay’s dad hums approvingly. “Good work, son. You sound like I did when I met your mom.” He brings his wife in to kiss her temple.

“Enjoy the party, lovebirds,” she coos at you, and then they’re gone, off to greet other arrivals.

You’re frozen in place, with one hand still clutching at Jay’s like a lifeline. “We didn’t practice that,” you mumble.

He shakes his head and rubs his thumb over your cheek with his other hand. “No, we didn’t. Are you mad?”

“Mad? I think I’m jealous of your future girlfriend,” you say, forcing a laugh. It sounds wooden even to your ears.

He frowns. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act as if you don’t know how much I like you.”

The world stops turning on its axis. “What?”

His gaze slips down to your mouth, tracing your cupid’s bow. “You heard me.” He turns hopeful eyes on you. “Do you… feel the same?”

Just like that, the world resumes its motion, and you can’t let him go a second longer without knowing how much he is loved. “Desperately.”

He breathes a sigh of relief, and you think he’s going to kiss you— you need him to kiss you— but he hugs you close instead, lips hovering against your ear. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” he murmurs.

“If it’s anything close to how happy I am, I probably have a good idea,” you laugh. You’re surprised at how quickly the burning urge to have his mouth on yours has tempered into something more grounded and permanent.

“I have to go do something for my parents, but I think I’ll die if I have to leave you. Will you come watch?”

You’d go anywhere with him. “Of course.”

He squeezes your hand. “Thanks, doll.” Against your will, your hand spasms in his. He giggles, delighted. “Duly noted.”

“Shut up,” you complain, but you follow him all the way to the tented dance floor set up on the grounds behind the house, only letting go after he kisses each of your fingertips in turn.

You’re surprised to see him pull out an eight-string guitar, and even more surprised when he explains to the gathered crowd that he’ll be playing the song from his parents’ first dance. They look perfect, swaying in the center of the floor, but you only have eyes for Jay.

You watch as his fingers pluck deftly at the strings, a romantic Spanish melody that barely reaches your ears over the rush of all your adoration for him. As soon as the song is over, he catches you in his arms, lifting you up and spinning you around twice before setting you back down, hands at home around your waist.

He asks if you want to dance. You teeter back on your heels, looking at the graceful curve of his mouth and thinking back to the nimbleness of his fingers. “Honestly? I want to kiss you. Really badly.”

He exhales and holds you tighter. “You won’t let me take you out first?”

“If you count the last few weeks, you’ve taken me out, like, a million times.”

“But a real date, doll. I want to cook for you, and we can get tea lights, and a picnic blanket, and— god.” Jay sucks in a sharp breath when you move his hands higher to cup underneath your chest. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he sighs, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I hope so. Stop being so nice, and take me to your room, please?”

Jay’s eyes flick heavenward. There’s only so much self-restraint left in him. “You win.”

And when he finally kisses you, pressed up against the door of his childhood bedroom, you nearly cry from how tender it is. He kisses you slowly, reverently, like you’re one of the saints from his history books.

“Sometimes, I think I’ve dreamt you up,” you confess to him. The words hang precious and delicate in the space between your lips.

“Let me show you I’m real then, yeah?” He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then licks right into you, eliciting a gasp from the back of your throat. Your fingers find purchase in the soft hair at the back of his head, and you realize that you’ve been breathing the wrong air your whole life; the groan that passes from his mouth to yours is the only thing you want in your lungs from now on.

Liquid desire pools in your stomach, rising until you think you might choke on it. “Jay, please.”

“Please, what? Use your words, doll.”

“Touch me.”

That’s all he needs to hear. Quicker than you realize it, but just as urgently as you need it, you find yourself laid out on his bed, and then he’s demonstrating that he knows more than just how to play guitar with those thick fingers.

When you make it out of his room an hour later, you’re still glowing with happiness. Jay knows he looks equally lovestruck, not least because his collar is hiding several lipstick stains from you.

You offer to help him redo his tie, so he anchors you unnecessarily close to him, hands sweeping up and down your side. “I don’t think I told you yet, but you look really nice tonight,” he murmurs. “You look really nice all the time, actually.”

You bury your face in his chest. “I’m going to explode if you keep sweet-talking me like that.”

He presses his smile to the top of your head. “Nooooo, you’re too pretty to explode.”

“Jay!” But you’re both laughing, bathed in the soft magic of newfound devotion. You couldn’t dream up anything better.

(Dating Jay is a lot like fake-dating Jay, as it turns out. In some ways.

In other ways, Jay still manages to take your breath away with new and inventive methods. He really does make you dinner, with tea lights and a picnic blanket, ensconced in the twilight of a park you drive an hour away to get to. He even makes foie gras torchon for the occasion, from scratch, and he watches you intently as you moan in delight at the taste. You joke about your breath being fishy when you kiss later, but he just shrugs, unbothered and already moving so that his head disappears underneath your dress, making you moan in a different way.

So, yes— there’s a lot more kissing, and sex, and intimacy that makes you want to curl up in a ball and hiss at how vulnerable it makes you. But Jay is always welcome in the prickly patches of your soul, and he wants those parts of you as much as he wants the parts of you that paint him in aching affection.

When he finally tells you he loves you that winter— in so many words, because it shows in his every action otherwise—, it’s three in the morning again, and your hands are fluttering across his brow, smoothing out the creases from a night of worrying about whether he’s really good enough to take over the family business. Your fingers, lovely and dear to him, stitch together the cracks in his self-resolve, and he can’t help but let the words out. His heart absolutely sings when you repeat the words back to him.

Some time later, you ask him to sit for a portrait for you. He doesn’t think too much of it, especially as the seasons bleed into one another and spring brings an influx of senior events, pollen, and the impending question of the future. He’s at your senior thesis, asking you detailed questions during the audience Q&A and wrapping you up in the biggest hug when it’s over, and you sit in on the final class he TAs, applauding when he’s done.

At the showcase of your final portfolio, his jaw drops when you reveal the second portrait (after having laughed his ass off at Jake blubbering over the first one and Yunjin kissing him in public to shut him up).

The second portrait is of him, and his parents. From his dad’s strong brows, to his mom’s smile lines, to his own hands; every detail is captured, shimmering in loving light.

He finds that his eyes are wet when you come up to him and brush your thumb against his eyelashes, smiling brightly at him. “Do you like it?”

“I love it. I love you, so much, like crazy, you don’t even know,” he rambles, laughing through his tears now.

You kiss him quickly but firmly, just a reminder that your mouth was made to fit against his. “Love you more, London boy. Speaking of…” You lean back to stare at him through your eyelashes. “I got the Rhodes,” you whisper.

His eyes widen like saucers. “You’re coming with me?”

“More like you’re coming with me,” you say, knowing that Jay had requested to be placed at his family business’s England location to be close to you in the event that you got the scholarship.

“Obviously,” he relents without missing a beat. “I’m going to follow you everywhere. Can’t get rid of me now.” He dips his head to kiss you longer. Lightning still shoots through his fingertips, just like the first time, and every time after that.

At graduation, you tell him, “You know, I think I’ve decided what I want your favor to be.”

He smiles at you, familiar and true. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“Just love me, for a long, long time.”

“Easy, Cinderella.”)

218 notes · View notes

goldenbuckyyy · 2 years

Text

THE ONE

Summary: Three years later, Harry sees you again.

Pairings: Harry Styles x fem!Reader (exs)

Word Count: 3.7kish

Warnings: None. Maybe ambiguous ending?

A/N: Here’s the final part for my power mini series. 🥺 I was honestly debating on how I should end this one. I was going to go a different route for this ending, but I just couldn’t see the reader doing that. I hope you all enjoy. Thank you for taking this journey with me. 🫶🏻 Song inspo: “The 1” by Taylor Swift.

Also thank you for 900 followers. 🥹🫶🏻 Thank you all for showing me so much love!! 💓

All my mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other site nor this one.

I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions.

Series Masterlist || Masterlist

Harry always wondered why he let himself make the choices he had made all those years ago.

He tells himself he was weak. He was too young to know any better. But in all honesty, he was an idiot. He was too dumb to see what he had right in front of him.

And it’s a mistake he has been paying for since the day it happened.

He had made a mistake the minute he had let Olivia kiss him.

He often wonders what was going through his mind when he allowed himself to let her lips touch his. He remembers being hesitant, but he also remembers not pulling away.

It wasn't because he was infatuated with her. She didn’t have anything he wanted or needed. He was a millionaire already. A household name. And his celebrity status was only growing by day.

He didn’t need more fame. He was good with his money. He didn’t need Olivia’s name tied to his. He already had yours tied to his. A wonderful actress and a name most people already knew.

Not because of him. You were just known because you were that good.

It was lust.

Lust for another woman. Someone other than the love of his life.

Lust because of the way Olivia’s green eyes always followed his every move. The way she’d invite him to her trailer to help him rehearse when you weren’t on set and the sneaky touches she’d do to get his attention.

Harry tried to resist her. Did his best. But he fell weak to his sins and let her kiss him that one night.

And it was downhill from there.

He let his lust for Olivia cloud his judgement and he lost the love of his life because of it.

And now… five years later, he’s still with her. Trying to make it work, but not seeing a future with her. But not wanting to leave her because if he leaves her, everything that he did was for nothing.

All the pain he caused you was for nothing if Olivia and him break up. It’ll be a slap to the face.

And he doesn’t think he’s brave or strong enough for that.

Harry sighs as he twirls his iced vanilla latte in front of him.

He was sitting in an empty cafe, but a cafe that you love. Or used to love. He didn’t know anymore.

He was home in London for business, away from Olivia, and he needed to clear his mind. He felt lost within himself and wasn’t too sure what to do anymore.

He felt unfulfilled, distracted, and unhappy.

He was almost thirty-two years old and felt empty. His shoulders are sagging as he feels the weight of the world on them. He gulps down the dryness he feels as his thoughts seem to overtake him and proceeds to sip on his coffee.

He hears the door ring as someone walks into the small cafe. He lets his curiosity take over and peers up to look up at the stranger.

It was barely seven am and the cafe was nearly empty. He wondered who the other morning bird was. Or a night owl. Depending on the way you looked at it.

He stilled in his seat when he recognized who the stranger was.

It was you.

The last time he had seen you was three years ago at the Venice film festival where the night ended in a nightmare. He had spoken to you after that profusely apologizing for the events he caused, but you only listened to him to please him and told him to take care after his rant.

He stopped bothering you after that. He didn’t want to be that person in your life anymore. So he stopped. He knew he had to let you go and it killed him. But he wanted you to be happy.

But looking at you right now as you walked in, he still felt that feeling he hadn’t felt in years. He felt heat rush to his face as he watched you, his heart accelerating, and the smile that wanted to break out on his face making his lips twitch.

He watched you as you walked in, holding your nude colored scarf close to your face to keep the cold December chill away from your face, your cheeks flushed with the cold air either way, and your entire body was covered by a darker nude colored oversized coat.

You walked up to the counter, giving the barista your biggest warmest smile, throwing your hair back, and fetching your wallet from your bag.

Your hair fell down your back and it was the longest he’s ever seen you have it. He let his eyes follow your every movement and it’s as if you felt him watching you. Because once you paid, your eyes found him, eyes locking together, and your smile didn’t falter. Your eyebrows crinkled together as your expression was shocked as if you couldn’t believe he was really in the same cafe as you.

Harry wasn’t sure what to do. Should he stand up to greet you? Should he just wave and smile? Should he just look away and pretend he wasn’t just caught staring at you?

He didn’t have much time to weigh his options because you were walking towards him already. He watched you as you walked towards him. Walking tall with your shoulders straight, and filled with confidence. You were glowing.

He stood up quickly when you reached him.

“Harry!” You exclaimed as you surprisingly wrapped your arms around him, pulling his entire body down towards you, pressing your cheek against his as you hugged him tightly against you, and Harry almost melted in your arms. His senses are filled with warm scents of your favorite perfume.

Harry wrapped his arms around you and when you pulled away, he wished the hug hadn’t ended so soon. He was still in shock. He looks down at the woman he once called the love of his life and wonders if you are still the same person as before.

You hold onto his arms as you look him up and down, “I can’t believe you’re in London right now! In this cafe! Wow!” You exclaim with a big smile as you look at where he was sitting.

“Is this seat taken?” You ask as you gesture to the empty seat in front of him.

Harry snaps himself out of his daze, quickly shaking his head, and gesturing for you to sit down. You adjust yourself into the seat, placing your bag on the back of it, and tugging off your scarf.

Harry goes back to his seat, fumbling as he sits down, and watches you with a small smile.

“You look amazing,” Harry says to you and you smile at him.

“Thank you,” you say, fixing your coat around your body, and smiling at the barista who brings you your order.

You place the big chocolate croissant in the middle of the table, parting it in your hands, and start to eat. Harry doesn’t miss the pretty ring on your ring finger, but he doesn’t allow himself to focus too much on it. His heart was tightening slightly.

“You can have the other half,” you say casually as you chew your half. He hesitantly gets the other half, “Thank you,” he says as he munches on it. Thinking about what he should say. He doesn’t want it to be awkward, but he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing.

“How have you been?” You ask him, sipping on your iced drink.

Harry wipes his lips with a napkin, “I’ve been good. Needed to come to London for some business, but I’m heading back to LA at the end of the week.”

“How fun! I assume congratulations are in order for your latest win,” you say with a cheeky smile and Harry blushes at your comment as he picks at the skin around his fingers. He wonders how you know.

Do you keep tabs on him like he does on you?

“Yeah, yeah. Thank you,” Harry says shyly at your compliment, his entire body showing how flattered he was.

“Don’t be coy with me,” you tease, “It’s another wonderful accomplishment. You should be proud.”

Harry sits up straighter at your words, “I am. I am, thank you. How have you been? I saw your latest film. You did wonderful, as always.”

You play him off with a wave, “Oh shush.” You smile at him as you open your coat, opening it up to reveal your cream colored oversized sweater, and cross your legs under the table.

You take a second to look at his face, your heart races underneath your chest, and you see how different he looks from the last time you saw him.

His beautiful chocolate curly hair was long again, piled up on the top of his head in a messy bun, a couple loose curls fell down framing his face, and his dimples were caving into cheeks with his shy smiles he was giving you. You secretly wondered why he had decided to grow out his hair again, but you continued to sip on your drink as you watched him.

The conversation between you two flowed easily, almost never feeling awkward, and you both feel thankful for it.

Harry could see from behind you the people passing by, taking their photos of him and you, and the internal anger he felt because of it never left him. He always hated that people tried to get the best photo of him whenever it got leaked where he was. And now that he was here with you? For the first time since the break up, since the messy Venice film festival drama that neither of you commented on, and now you’re both enjoying a drink together. He wonders how much the highest bidder will get paid.

The conversation never leads to Olivia nor Sebastian. Harry knows you’re still with him, but as to only what he sees on social media. But he’s too much of a coward to ask you about it.

It isn’t until Harry opens his stupid mouth and word vomits all over you.

“I need to tell you something,” he abruptly exclaims, which makes your laughing stifle, and you nod at him to continue. Your hands clasping together on the top of the table to stop yourself from fidgeting.

“I want to tell you that.. seeing you right now, in front of me, makes me feel indescribable. I haven’t seen you in over three years and you’re still the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.”

“Harry,” you start to say, eyes softening with sadness, and your lips frowning.

“I have to say this, please.” He begs you, you frown, and nod for him to continue.

“I want to thank you for loving me all those years ago,” he whispers, voice low, and almost as if he doesn’t believe he’s saying these words out loud.

“You loved me in a way that I have never been loved before. Never. Not by Camille, not by Kendall, not Taylor, and not even bloody Olivia. Okay?” His voice wavers and the way you’re looking at him right now makes his eyes swell up with tears. He takes a second to compose himself, pinching the bridge of his nose to keep his tears at bay, and he pushes away a couple strands of loose curls from his face.

“You loved me with purity and honesty. You-you loved me with such force and passion… that I’ve been searching for that feeling for years since I left you. Nothing—and I swear to you— nothing has been able to fill the void you left in me. And that’s my mistake. And mine only.”

His eyes are staring into yours, threatening tears in both eyes, and your nose is turning into that shade that shows him you want to cry. He silently curses because he doesn’t want to make you cry. But he knows this might be his only chance to tell you how he’s felt the past couple of years. Truthfully and honestly.

Harry reaches for your palm that’s laying on the table top, the oval ring resting on your ring finger like gold, hesitantly he grasps your hand gently in his, and you let him. A rush of warmth runs through both of your bodies, but you both don’t show it. You bite the inside of your cheek to try and keep your emotions at bay.

You furr your eyebrows down as you wait for him to speak again. You raise your eyes to meet his own once again. Beautiful green eyes rimmed red.

Harry takes in a shaky breath, letting himself try to relax as he tries to not melt at the way his body feels touching your skin again, and he tilts his head as he watches you.

Watches the woman that still looks at him with love in her eyes, the one that makes his heart skip a beat, the one who’s smile never fails to light up a room, the one who can make an entire crowd laugh until they cry, and who’s name is still engraved on his heart and soul.

Your eyelashes flutter as you give him a small nod. Waiting for him to continue.

“I made the biggest mistake of my life when I did what I did to you. I won’t recount all my wrongs, but you know them better than anyone else. I especially— especially regret,” he pauses slightly, “what I did to you at the after party of our movie.” He says the last part in a whisper. He’s ashamed of what he did. He felt ashamed for forcing himself on you that night. And ashamed for the lasting scars he made on you at that moment.

“I know you may never forgive me— shit, I wouldn’t forgive me. But—“ Harry’s cut off by your words, “I forgive you.”

Harry’s mouth parts open in shock at your words, his expression turns into sorrow, and he immediately looks down. He feels his tears covering his eyelashes as his lips tremble. Not fully believing the heart of gold of the woman in front of him.

He feels you squeeze his hand in yours and he looks up at you. Red rimmed eyes and pouty lips.

You look the same except your face is nothing but sincere. You nod at him with a smile.

“It has taken me a long time to fully understand the events that transpired that night. I couldn’t believe it had happened for so long. Many long nights I spent wondering where we had gone wrong. Many that I spent cursing Olivia’s name. Cursing your name. Cursing my own,” you let out a sigh, “But.. everything happens for a reason. And whatever may that reason be… it’s the reason why all the events between us happened. We may never truly understand why we made the decisions we did… I may never understand why you did what you did.. but it happened. And I can’t hold onto the past any longer. I held on for so long— so so long.”

Your eyes glisten as you watch Harry.

“We can sit here all day long. Staring at each other and wondering about all the what ifs. We can even talk about it. But it won’t change anything. It won’t change what happened or has happened since. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m a completely different person from when we were together. Just how I know you are. We’re not the same people we fell in love with.”

Harry can bet a million dollars that isn’t true. You’re the same woman he fell in love with. But he won’t say that.

He lets you continue, his thumb brushing against your warm skin as he used to also do.

“We can sit here and pretend that we weren’t madly in love not so long ago. So in love that we didn’t care what people said and we did so without shame.”

Harry closes his eyes as he tries to memorize your face in his mind before this ends.

Your soft voice continues, “I miss you.” Your voice almost cracks at the words, but compose yourself quickly. You clear your throat with a cough.

Harry’s eyes open in surprise, deep regret written all over his face, and he opens his mouth to speak. But you hold your hand up to stop him.

“I miss you in a way that I would miss an ex best friend. I miss our talks. I miss the way you never judged me. You never bullshitted me. You’d always tell me what you were thinking and I never had to second guess you. We were perfect together. But life happens. Mistakes were made and now…”

You lean forward, gripping his hand in yours tightly, and lean your face against your enclosed hands. He does the same, soft tears falling down his cheeks, and you can feel your own cheeks wet.

Harry feels as if he’s about to have a breakdown with the emotions he’s feeling right now. He feels overwhelmed.

“Now I’m happy. I’m finally happy again. And I can't— I can't let you back in. I can't even let you be my friend. Sebastian wouldn’t have it. Because,” you pause and hesitantly continue in a whisper, “a part of me will always be in love with you. And if you’re in my life… I will never get over you. It doesn’t matter how many years have passed.”

Harry cries at your words, his shoulder slumping down, and body shaking slightly with his tears.

“If you’re not happy with Olivia,” you start saying and Harry looks at you with surprise, “Leave her. You deserve to be happy. So insanely happy that you can’t even believe it.” You squeeze his hands in yours.

Harry nods at your words, knowing they’re true, eyes glistening, and your palm cups his cheek slightly.

His face instantly melts in your palm, “I want you to know that there will always be a piece of you in me.”

“Always,” you both say at the same time with a small smile.

“I don’t deserve your time right now,” Harry whispers, eyes soft with sadness.

“You deserve the world. We all make mistakes. Some are worse than others, but it happens.”

Harry nods at your words and he knows it’s time to say goodbye. Not knowing if it’s forever or not. But knowing it’s the right thing to do.

“I should let you go. Let you get back to him.”

You agree with a hum, gathering your belongings, and standing up as he does the same.

Harry is the first to pull you into a hug, wrapping his arms over your shoulders, holding you tightly against his body, and your arms wrap around his waist. Your head on his chest and Harry feels something against his waist. A small protruding belly.

Harry pulls away from the hug, looking down in confusion between your bodies, and sees for the first time your belly.

His jaw slacks down, mouth parting open in shock, and he wonders how he hadn’t noticed earlier.

He looks up at you with a confused face, “You’re…” He can’t even ask the question. The words he was going to ask were getting stuck in his throat.

You beam up at him, pretty eyes twinkling, “I am.”

“Wow,” he breathes out, heart breaking a little bit, and he can only smile.

“Congratulations, you must be so excited. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, B-Harry. I am,” you repeat with a smile and you reach up to kiss his cheek gently, his cheeks tint pink. Harry doesn’t catch the name you were about to call him.

“I’ll see you later,” you say, pinching his cheek slightly with a smile, and you both watch each other for a moment. Taking it in together. Both eyes taking in every inch of each other.

You walk away from him after squeezing his hand once more. Once you reach the cafe door, taking one final glance behind you, looking at Harry, and you smile at him. You wave your hand goodbye slowly and Harry waves back with a deep inhale to try to calm his nerves.

It kills him to see you walk away from him.

He watches you from the window. Watches your hand go to your lower belly on instinct. Carrying a child that isn’t his. Will never be his. And he knows you're happy.

He can see it in the way you walk, the way you’re dressed, and by simply the way you are carrying yourself right in front of him.

It’s the way he could see it when you were sitting in front of him mere minutes ago. With a smile on your face. The soft smile you had reserved for him. He didn’t know if that was still the case. But deep down, he wished it was.

He could see it in the way your cheeks blushed pink by his compliments, but that’s all it was to you. A compliment from a man. That’s all.

He wasn’t the love of your life anymore.

He was just the man you used to love. A man you used to be in love with. A man you used to picture your life with.

And it killed him inside that you were now living a life he wasn’t familiar with.

He didn’t know what your favorite color was anymore. Your favorite food. Your favorite movie. Your favorite memory. Your favorite snack. He didn't know any of that anymore.

It makes his soul ache in a deep part of his body. He feels his lips tremble slightly as he keeps his eyes on you. He knows he looks pathetic. With that sad look on his face as he watches the only person he’s ever truly loved walk away.

But…

There’s always a bigger piece in him that feels at peace knowing you’re happy.

That even though he didn’t end up being the man you married and had children with… that you were still living the life you both had planned once upon a time.

Even if it’s without each other.

Harry can only hope he is lucky enough to have the same ending one day.

He just wishes it was with you.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles fan fic #powerau #exs #harry edward styles

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starryeyedjanai · 3 months

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it takes two, not three (but i’m here anyway)

stomarol 5+1 | E | Read chapter 1 on ao3 thank you @thoroughlycollected for the beta!

Steve’s never thought about them in this context. It’s always been off the table, really. He wouldn't think about Carol because she’s Tommy’s. And he wouldn't think about Tommy because, well—he’s Tommy. or, 5 times Tommy and Carol hook up in front of Steve and 1 time he joins in

Steve doesn't think much of it when Tommy begs him to drive him and Carol to Skull Rock at first.

They're home for the summer and it’s been a few weeks since they got back. Steve's parents are surprisingly in Hawkins for the foreseeable future, so he’s been trying to get out of the house as much as possible.

They’ve hung out together, the three of them, plenty since they got back—at the community pool, around town, whatever they can do to pass the time during the hot summer days.

He doesn't remember summers being this boring, but now that they’re in college and have seen bigger and better things than the StarCourt Mall, coming back to little ol’ Hawkins is astoundingly boring.

He assumed that Tommy and Carol have been hanging out without him, at night, or the days that he doesn't see them, since they’re together or whatever, so it comes as a total surprise when he parks the car near Skull Rock and Tommy asks if Steve can take a walk through the woods so they can make out for a few minutes.

“You’re not fucking serious,” Steve says, but he sees the desperation on Tommy’s face, sees Carol’s pleading eyes. They’re fucking serious. Jesus Christ.

Tommy says, “Just five minutes, man. Carol’s parents are being such assholes and you know how my parents are. We haven't had a second alone since we got back. Just five minutes. Please?”

Steve looks back and forth between them before his gaze settles back on Tommy. “Five minutes? Is that how long you normally last?” he asks, his tone biting, a little mean.

Tommy rolls his eyes. “We’re not going to fuck in your car. We just haven't even been able to be alone in the same room in over two weeks because someone got a C in English.”

Carol glares at him and says, “I didn't know my parents would freak out like this! And English was hard.”

“You speak English,” Tommy says and opens his mouth to say something else, probably something just as snarky, but Carol cuts him off with a glare. Wow, they really must be pent up if they’re bickering like this.

Carol turns to Steve and says, “My parents are being total assholes. They won’t even let me see Tommy unless you’re with us. Please, just five minutes?”

Steve closes his eyes briefly and sighs. He silently curses himself—he can never say no to them.

“Your five minutes started a minute ago,” he says, opening his car door and getting out, slamming the door a little bit harder than necessary.

He walks away with his hands in his pockets, feeling a little bit like an idiot. He should have known. They only ever really come out here when they’re on a double date, when Steve and his date can make out in the front seat while Tommy and Carol make out in the back. It’s been a while since the last time they did that—and it’s in the middle of the fucking day right now—so Steve can't be blamed for forgetting that this is primarily a hook up spot.

He walks for a couple minutes, the muggy humid air making his hair stick to the back of his neck. He turns back around after another minute because they said five minutes and if they want any longer, they can get out and make out against a tree or something while he enjoys the air conditioning of his car.

When he gets back to the car, the windows are fogging up and Tommy and Carol aren’t vertical in the back. He rolls his eyes and taps on the window.

He says, “Time’s up,” before opening the backseat door. They pull away from each other’s mouths and look up at him.

Tommy has his hand shoved up Carol’s shirt and both of their lips are bitten red. He tries not to look at them as they sit up and Tommy adjusts himself in his pants.

Carol slides out of the backseat and closes the door, grinning up at Steve before taking her seat in the front seat again.

He gets in the driver’s seat and starts the car.

They hadn't had any other plans today, so he drives away from Skull Rock towards the mall, the silence in the car stifling and loud.

They don't talk on the way to the mall, so he turns the radio on and tries not to feel bad.

Look, he can sympathize with them, but he’s not going to feel like he’s cockblocking his friends because he won't let them have sex in his car.

He gets it. Truly, he gets it. Having all that freedom in college, staying out as late as they want, staying over when one of their roommates was gone for the weekend, and then having to come back here for the summer and live like they’re in high school all over again isn't easy. But still, using him and his car for a ticket to hook up in the middle of the day feels kind of slimy, even for them.

Part 2

#stomarol #stranger things #posting every day this week!#steve harrington #tommy hagan #carol perkins #janai.doc

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wordsvomit101 · 20 days

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I'm a random cringe teenager in school, we are not in Euphoria dude.

Author note: It is from Leviathan's pov because I do not want to come back to that dark time that closely, both of my arms shag to the ground when I thought back to it. Plus I need to write something else besides the quiz or else I might flip. Warnings: OOC, you might not relate to this MC, Leviathan being weird.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

(Lunch Break)

"Stop moping. I can't stand that idiotic sulking face of yours. Either get out of my sight or speak quickly," he snapped, hitting the right button as your mouth, busy chewing rice, halted to gulp it down before you began yammering nonstop.

"I don't know what I was doing back then, dude. I should just cooperate with them but I tried to act cool and know it all. Fuck! It was so bad and I sound like a total asshole! I might need to change the table," you lamented, as if not bothering to breathe.

You sit across him in the cafeteria, the space humming with the cacophony of annoying mortals and the frigid metallic scent of their food trays. The students' chatter is a relentless torrent, bouncing off the walls and reaching into every corner of the room. It's relentless, grating, and suffocating. It's the sound of a thousand conversations overlapping, each one clamoring for attention, each one more meaningless than the last. He tries to focus on the disgustingly low-quality food and your voice, to block out the noise, but it's impossible. The clatter of trays, the scrape of chairs, the mindless babble—it's all too much. He feels his fingers twitching, his palms itching to cover his ears and shut out the world, or maybe just slaughter all of them.

"The rest of the class was ok, I think, but I can see how they uncomfortably sit and not look back at me. Oh my god, I didn't just set off a series of bullying in my second year in high school, did I? Shit, I definitely did," you rambled on.

"Then how is it my problem?"

You look up at him with all the innocence those eyes could muster, yet hiding the aggravating angel-like rat behaviors. You give him another vein on the neck.

"You silly goose, you stuck with me for too long, and after all we've gone through, you have to share this with me. I stuck through your cringe emo phase when we were in middle school so this is the least you could do, you ungrateful brat," you chided him in a tone an older sibling would, and it only made him want to choke you from across the table.

It was maddening. Despite your apparent introversion, you never remained isolated for long. Even when you occupied a seat by yourself, you were always within the watchful gazes of at least three others. He had once witnessed you sitting alone in a classroom, but within five minutes, you had hastily gathered your belongings and hurried off to an extracurricular activity, your punctuality bordering on par with those from Niflheim, which is not appreciated in this situation.

Now he has to sit here and listen to your endless yapping again while surrounded by these stank mortals. Their pungent socks and unwashed body odors assaulted his delicate nostrils. Sharing your sensory experience became a curse as he lamented the existence of his sensitive nose. The stench from a table away was an unbearable torment, something that only that vixen Beelzebub and his cronies would enjoy.

"Ughh, I'm so fucked, you will be fine for sure but I don't know when my resting bitch face effect run out. Oh, can you eat this for me? Thanks, I don't have the will to try to eat them today."

"When did I say I-"

"Just eat them, will you? Plus my parents and I once bet on how tall you will be in the future. They both said you will be in the 6-foot range but I said 6'3 so grow faster for me," nonchalantly you quickly interrupted him with another story that your mind made up to patch up the holes his presence left.

You already put all the vegetables on his tray before he could say anything and get back to stuffing those cold things you called pork into your mouth again. Despite his genuine attempts to offer alternative snacks and better choices from nearby vendors, you remained steadfast in your refusal, compelling him to endure these demeaning moments alongside you. Annoyingly preaching something about saving money despite how you impulsively bought them both two bags of crab chips and bottles of banana milk the next day... If he threw it away you would be both sad and angry at him, possibly even not talking to him again for weeks unless he explains why so he, humiliatingly, chews those junks down his throat... It wasn't bad, at least.

But your smug looks ruin that moment and even dare to tease him about it despite your cheeks being stretched out by him like useless dough.

All the times he tried to initiate something with you, small or big, you outright gave him a funny disgusted look that was different from how those vile angels did but got on his nerves all the same. One time you even poked his eyes and screamed bloody murder, grinning childishly all the while, before he chased you around the school grounds, making a scene for the whole student body like some kind of circus. It's still a mystery how you manage to outrun him despite your less-than-stellar PE scores.

"What's with that grumpy look? You look like a monkey that just ate a hot chili—A good-looking one, of course, so chill your ass down, bro, that look could give a grandmother a heart attack."

... He had often contemplated the violent retribution he could inflict upon you—hanging you high by the neck or sending you tumbling down the unforgiving steps for each careless barb you hurled his way, only to watch you brush it off with a nonchalance that made it seem like nothing. In the reality of your usual demeanor, you would shy away from his gaze and hide your thoughts in your polite smile, an unspoken pact of avoidance. But now, you were a stranger to your former reserve, an uncharted territory in which your words flowed freely, unlike the distance you put around yourself toward everyone... It's grating as much as it is refreshing.

"I should cut your tongue off one of these days so you wouldn't spew nonsense all the time."

"Ah shush buddy, I would already be buried by now if you took your threat seriously. Also, what is our next class? Math? Shit, did we have homework in math? I can't remember, I only cramp on our literature work."

He learns something else about you that only makes him want to hurl you through the wall. Despite having all the time in the world, you whine and moan when it comes to your duties but you read through those meaningless comics and binge-watch countless romance dramas online, swooning over fictional humans whose appearances barely reach half his height almost every night. Instead of making good use of your time, you ignore the genuine thing right next to you. He should have twisted your nose off your face when you laughed at his face back then.

He ignored the flutter in his ribcage when he thought back to your smiling face, carefree and looking up at him with playfulness as you took joy in his frustration.

"Your stupidity never ceases to astound me. We have a test tomorrow, you bull-headed rat." Standing up, he took both of their trays to the table to be cleaned later. He didn't eat much besides the gross vegetables you put on his tray and waited for you to finish eating. As you two walked, you continued to talk incessantly, and he had to suffer through the noise.

"Aiya, stop with that snobby ass speech and help me study. At least I remember the formula, you know? An achievement for people like me who suck at it! You should be proud of your homie."

"I would be disappointed in myself if I ever am proud of the likes of you, you ange- rat."

Glancing down at you, your gazes ahead and not a bit bothered, it made him want to wipe it off your face and make you red with anger and embarrassment like that time… but you would never accept it, nor would your eyes give him the same reaction he was starting to get used to. Getting used to this mundane routine, the normalcy of this setting was so much different compared to schools in Hades. It was peaceful. It made him want to hold your hand…

"Hey."

Your serious tone of voice broke him out of his thoughts. When he glanced back, you were frowning, contemplating… You were realizing the differences again, this was the 35th time you did this. He admits he underestimated you when he first got into your memory zone. You almost blasted him with thunder magic the first time you uttered that human's name after he refused to join you to go to the anime convention for the 6th time. He envied how just by a mere utterance of that wretched name, you easily broke out of your trance.

Like last time, your eyes didn’t have that foggy glaze over them but were becoming brighter again.

"Have you ever talked like an old man like that?… And have you always had those horns before? Your voice sounds deeper too…"

But no matter, it was an easy fix, some rearranging, and good leading words would do. Before your gaze looked away from his and your smile went cold again, he quickly took out your favorite flavor lollipop from his pocket and unwrapped it easily between his hands, acknowledging how you were becoming more tense each second and your eyes almost fully cleared even without looking at you.

"Are you-"

"Hmph, you must have a lot of time to even question things like this."

Gently shoving the lollipop into your mouth and taking in your shocked face, his heart was unconsciously at ease when you calmed down after tasting the familiar treat between you and that human. You gazed up at him with a goofy smile, humming a tune as you continued walking to class together, the tension between you dissipating like mist in the morning sun.

"Did you buy it from the vendor? I thought they were out of this flavor today- Ah wait, I need to finish this quick. How much time do we have left until class starts?"

As you two entered, he swiftly slipped into his seat, cutting you off. The class was strewn with a sparse gathering of students, as per the norm… Tch.

"Not a single ‘thank you’, it seems you’re the ungrateful one. I should let you rot once that test comes around."

"Hah?! H-hey I get it alright?… I’m sorry ok? Sorry for taking you for granted."

As you settled into the seat before him, a sense of remorse washed over you, reflected in the apologetic gaze you cast upon him. It was as if your eyes carried the weight of a thousand regrets, and he could almost visualize your invisible ears drooping in a display of pitiful sorrow. With a hesitant glance upwards, you met his gaze, mirroring the submissive demeanor of some of his summoned creatures, evoking a sense of empathy tinged with a hint of melancholy.

… Funny, that was how you looked at him when you brought that whip on his back. Not like this, it was not one where he could sense the disgust you had for yourself as you held back from apologizing. That might be one of the last times you were ever expressive toward him.

"I’m sorry… and thank you for buying this for me, and for the many other times you did."

Your voice was softer now, almost like a whisper, yet honest all the same as your eyes never strayed from his. However, he preferred that impish grin you usually directed at him than this.

"Heh, like I need your worthless apology. Finish it quickly, the teacher is coming."

In a swift and unspoken gesture, you couldn't help but emit a soft snort and playfully nudge his arm, a silent indication of your camaraderie. With a subtle yet meaningful exchange, you effortlessly returned to your designated spot, sinking into your seat as you savored the sweet crunch of your lollipop. In that fleeting moment, the weight of somberness that loomed above both of you dissipated into the ether, replaced by an unspoken understanding and a false sense of lightness.

"Geez, way to ruin a nice apology, you jerk."

"…"

The veneer of normalcy would inevitably crack, the charade becoming an unsustainable burden. As the school bell pierced the air, summoning students into the classroom and the teacher embarked on the lesson, his gaze fell upon your slouched posture, a telltale sign of your mind already drifting off to daydreaming. When the final bell tolled, signaling the end of class, he alone would carry the weight of these fleeting moments and a poignant reminder of the unspoken connection that had flickered between you.

'… For now, let me savor this a little bit longer.'

#what in hell is bad #whb #whb mc #whb oc #whb leviathan #wordsvomit notes

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whereianonymouslypostfics · 1 year

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Silver Springs Part 6

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~10.5k

Summary: Wanda tries to leave her mob life behind to start a family with you

A/N: Today kinda sucked, so here’s another chapter 🙃. This chapter is definitely 18+ only! I’ll be looking through again soon to make sure y’all aren’t kiddos. Enjoy!

Chapter Warnings: Hints of torture, blood, and violence. Smut.

You open your eyes at the sound of Wanda’s furious voice, and it’s almost simultaneous that the hand on you leaves. You turn back to the blonde in front of you to see that Wanda’s holding a gun to his head and you hate how happy this makes you. Boone breaks free from the two behind you and growls at them forcing them to back away but they run right into Nat who looks equally pissed.

The duo had met up as Wanda was leaving Pietro’s office and since Nat was done with her assignment, she was off to get lunch. Wanda accompanied her downstairs in search of you and they simply chatted for the short ride about you and your future at the compound. Wanda was going to try and get you to stay here for a few weeks and despite agreeing that this was the right decision, Nat wasn’t sure how she’d convince you. Despite it being safer here, she knew you didn’t want to put your life on hold for too long. It wasn’t until they arrived downstairs that they both realized it might be a harder sell than they thought.

Wanda was furious and honestly only seconds away from blowing this idiot’s brains out. She wasn’t sure who he thought he was, but he was probably going to die today if someone didn’t come stop her from shooting him. He quickly drops his hand from you and holds them up in surrender. He looks terrified and rightfully so given the circumstance. You just scowl at him before wiping at your cheek with a frown. You don’t realize you’re bleeding until you feel the wetness on your fingers and you curse under your breath.

“I-I’m so--.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me you piece of shit.”

Wanda’s accent always comes out a little more when she’s tired, needy, or angry and you honestly hate the way the hair at the back of your neck stands up at the sound. You watch as she turns to you with a concerned look and her eyes darken further at the sight of your bleeding face.

“Nat, take care of those two, will you? Bucky, get this one out of my sight before I kill him.”

You didn’t realize that Bucky was back until you turn to see Nat holding both of the men’s collars with Bucky by her side. He feels guilty for leaving you not five minutes ago, and is more than happy to lock this asshole up and throw away the key. Or at least hide it until Wanda comes to deal with him.

“My pleasure.”

He’s gone with the blonde being dragged behind him, and Nat’s gone a few seconds later leaving you with your wife who still looks furious. She watches Bucky lead the blonde away and she’s still considering shooting as he retreats. Instead, she turns to you and holds out her hand for you with a worried look.

“Come on, detka.”

You don’t hesitate to follow her on the short trip to the elevator, and Boone is right behind you. You really should have just let him bite the idiot. You don’t realize you’re shaking until you’re in the elevator and the doors have closed. You try to take a deep breath but you find that your chest is tight and you start to panic as you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Y/n, breathe. It’s okay, love.”

You shake your head as you groan under your breath and rest your hands on your knees to try and take a deep breath. When you finally succeed you nearly scream as you stand back up and look at your wife who’s eying you nervously.

“That asshole! God why do men suck?”

Wanda shakes her head because she’s often wondered that as well. Most of the time she attributes their behavior to their ego, and she has a feeling this was the exact same. However, she’s not going to focus on that right now because she’s more concerned with making sure you’re alright. She reaches out for you and she’s grateful that you meet her half way and pull her in for a hug.

“God, I wish I knew. Are you okay? He hit you pretty hard.”

You shake your head because you still feel your cheek throbbing from where he hit you. The sensitive prick. You take another deep breath as you struggle to stay on your feet. You’re tired and dealing with scorned men is not how you planned this afternoon out. You let Wanda fuss over you and make sure the bleeding’s stopped before she leads you off the elevator and to your rooms. You follow her lead to the kitchen where she grabs a washcloth, and some ice, but you jerk away from the ice pack with a hiss.

“I’m surprised you didn’t shoot him right there in front of his friends.”

Wanda shook her head with a sigh before she muttered under her breath that she should have.

“I wasn’t far from it. Did he know who you were?”

You nearly laugh at this because you find it absurd that he did, and that he’d been dumb enough to approach you in broad daylight. You nod and Wanda nearly loses her mind at what you say next.

“Yeah surprisingly. He said he was embarrassed by you and this was his revenge I guess.”

Wanda suddenly realizes who the man was. She hadn’t recognized him immediately because she’d mostly been too angry to think straight. However, hearing this, she realizes this must be the man she’d nearly thrown to the ground in front of his friends when she overheard him talking about you. She immediately feels guilty and opens her mouth to apologize but you shake your head sternly.

“I’m s--.”

“Wanda no. You’re not the one who has to apologize. You didn’t do this to me.”

Wanda wants to argue, but you just shake your head again with a smile as you pull your wife close. She gasps as you bring her front flush against yours with a grin before leaning in to whisper against her lips.

“You stood up for me and protected me, and I love you even more for it.”

Wanda groans as you kiss her and she sets the ice pack on the counter behind you as she reaches up to wrap her arms around your shoulders. She sighs heavily as you pull away and start to kiss her neck, and her breathy response makes you want her even more.

“I’ll always protect you, Y/n. I promise.”

You tighten your grip on your wife’s hips and she moans as you bite her neck. You take a moment to breathe and calm down before you glance at the clock behind you. It’s only 3 in the afternoon and you should probably make sure Wanda doesn’t have anything she’s late for.

“Is there anything else you need to do this afternoon?��

It takes Wanda a minute to catch her breath enough to respond, but she eventually shakes her head and claims that she’s free.

“No. All I have to do for the rest of the day is relax.”

You smile at this before nodding in agreement. You stand up straight and start to walk your wife back towards your bedroom with a smile.

“That’s good to hear because I really want to take you to bed and show you how much I appreciate you. Is that okay?”

Wanda’s already nodding before you even finish speaking and you smile as you lead her into the bedroom and close the door behind you. You spin around and push her up against the door with a sigh and resume kissing her as soon as she catches her breath. You smile at her before brushing her hair behind her ears. Despite wanting to drag Wanda into bed immediately, you want her to know that you are truly appreciative, and you love her a lot. You’re struggling with how to communicate this to her, and you don’t realize how long you take until she’s shooting you a worried look.

“Is something wrong?”

Her hand comes up to cup your cheek and you lean into her with a sigh before you shake your head. You open your eyes and meet concerned green ones with a smile. You turn so you can kiss her palm before you speak up.

“No, nothing at all. I just love you a lot and want you to know that.”

Wanda’s heart stutters in her chest at your words and she smiles widely before nodding in response.

“I do. I know you love me, and I love you too. So much.”

You smile at this and you can’t help but bring up your earlier conversation. You hate to think that your wife would even humor the idea that you’d cheat on her, that you would even want to kiss someone else. You squeeze her hips again to hold yourself back because you need to say this or else, you’ll lose your nerve.

“I need you to know I will never look elsewhere, and I never have. The thing with that doctor, it was completely against my wishes and all I could think about was you and how much I loved you. Please know that.”

Wanda suddenly feels guilty for how she reacted to Vision’s news earlier today. She’s been shocked and angered but not because she didn’t trust you. She was just too insecure to keep the idea of you wanting something like that from her mind. She remembers when you’d first gotten together; before Wanda told you about what she did with her life and how she was so afraid that you would leave her. You deserved better than to have someone you couldn’t be with publicly, who you couldn’t talk about with your friends, but somehow you’d accepted this. You’d accepted this and loved her through everything, and Wanda feels truly ashamed that she’d doubt you for even a second.

“I’m sorry I thought otherwise. I know you wouldn’t cheat on me, I just--.”

When your wife looks away from you guiltily you realize what she’s trying to say. You sigh in defeat because you hate how someone as wonderful and loving as your wife sometimes has difficulty believing anyone could love her just as much. You’ve only tried to prove otherwise for years, but you had no issue continuing to do so until your last breath.

“I know, baby. Is it okay if I remind you how much you’re loved?”

Wanda takes a deep shuddering breath before she nods in agreement. She feels her entire body buzzing and she needs you to touch her, to love her and never stop, but she’s not sure how to put this into words.

“Yes, please, Y/n. I need you.”

Wanda’s plea officially ends your self-restraint and you grab the hem of your wife’s shirt with a questioning look.

“Okay. You know what to say if you want to stop?”

Wanda nods and mutters her safe word under her breath before begging you to get on with it. You stop keeping yourself from giving your wife whatever she wants, and you quickly pull her shirt over her head with a sigh. She gasps as the cold air hits her, but you don’t leave her cold long as you toss her shirt aside and pull her flush against you. You kiss her deeply as you walk the two of you back carefully towards the bed. When your legs hit the mattress, you sit down and gently bring her with you onto your lap. Wanda moans as she grinds her hips against yours and you smile as your hands run up her back teasingly before reaching her bra.

“Fuck, take it off, please.”

You merely hum in response as you undo the clasp and fling Wanda’s bra across the room not two seconds later. You groan at the sight of your wife’s bare breasts and you waste no time taking one of them into your mouth. Wanda groans as she arches her back so she’s as close to you as possible before she grinds down on your lap again. She’s soaked already and needs you to touch her soon or she’ll explode. She curses loudly when you start to tweak her other nipple and you groan against her breast when she rolls her hips into you yet again.

“Please, detka. Touch me.”

You groan as you break away from your wife to watch her pant breathlessly above you. She looks beautifully flustered and you’d love to just admire her for hours, but you know she’s not that patient. You lean in to kiss her heaving chest one more time before you drop your hands to her waist again. She shudders against your touch and merely yelps when you stand up quickly and spin her around so she’s lying on the bed. You smile at her as you stand between her spread legs and you slowly unzip her pants before leaning over to kiss her with a smile.

“God, you’re so beautiful Wands. I can’t wait to ruin you.”

Wanda just moans in response and lifts her hips up to help you remove her clothing leaving her bare and dripping in front of you. You moan at the sight and barely hold back from diving right in. However, you want to take your time to enjoy your wife and her excellent company while you have her all to yourself. You take a deep breath before stepping between her legs again and leaning over to kiss her.

“What are--?”

Wanda’s question is cut off by a moan as you kiss her neck at the same time that you press your knee between her legs. She bucks against it and lets out another cry as you rock against her while leaving bruising kisses on her neck.

“Oh fuck, Y/n.”

You smile at how needy Wanda already is, and by how wet she is against your jeans. You let her rock her hips against you for a moment before you palm her breasts and swallow her moans with a kiss. She’s barely able to kiss you back, but you don’t mind as you start a rhythm with your hands and your leg. Wanda’s face and chest are flushed and she’s arching her back to try and get closer to you, but its inadvertently pushing you away. You frown as you break your kiss and take your leg away from your wife. She whines in protest but you just kiss her gently before starting down towards her arousal that’s making you dizzy with need.

“God please, please.”

You try to soothe your wife’s pleas with a kiss to her inner thighs, but it makes her even needier for you. Her hips jerk and she nearly knees you in the face, but you just chuckle under your breath before you finally give her what she wants.

Wanda nearly screams when you taste her for the first time, and you can’t help but moan against her at the sound. She’s quick to lock your head between her legs and you have no issue with this and take the hint to hurry up. She starts to ride your face and you know she’s close, so as much as it pains you both, you push her hips down to keep her from coming too quickly. She groans in annoyance and you know what she’s about to say, so you silence her before she gets the chance to complain.

“Dammit, Y/n, just—fuck!”

Wanda’s cut off as you take her clit into your mouth and suck until she’s seeing stars. She thrashes against you but you hold her down as she comes hard and cries out into the room. You feel your own arousal grow and you keep going despite how tense Wanda becomes. You know you can push her into another one easily with how turned on she is, so you don’t waste any time as you delve back into her soaked, sensitive folds.

“Oh fuck, fuck, Y/n. I’m gonna--.”

Wanda’s vision goes white as you send her into a second stronger orgasm with just your mouth. She moans as you pull away and admire the sight of your beautifully fucked out wife. You’re not anywhere close with being done with her yet, and you groan as you consider the possibilities.

“God, I’m going to fuck you so hard.”

Wanda can only nod as she moans at the thought of you taking her hard and fast. She wants you to fuck her hard and she needs you to know this.

“Yes please, I need you inside me, please.”

You smile at how you and your wife seem to be on the same page and you quickly sink two fingers into her with a smile.

“You mean like this?”

Wanda chokes on a moan as her walls squeeze your fingers, but she shakes her head and you frown in confusion. You’re about to pull out of her when she manages to calm herself enough to speak. She takes a deep breath as she glances to the suitcases that remain unpacked in the corner.

“Not exactly. In the suitcase. T-the first one.”

You frown in confusion and you’re reluctant to leave your wife, but you soon realize what she means. You smile at her before pulling away and looking over your shoulder before returning your attention to her.

“You’re saying you want me to fuck you with the strap?”

It’s a rhetorical question because you know she does, but there’s something about having your beautiful, tough, mobster wife beg for your strap that makes you crazy. You watch as Wanda blushes prettily before nodding in response. She’s breathless and her heart’s pounding in her ears, but she barely notices with the throbbing between her legs.

“I need you to say it, love.”

You run your hands down her thighs waiting for her to say it, and when she does, you’re gone so fast she doesn’t even see you move.

“Yes, please, fuck me.”

You’re back in record time and you can’t help but moan as you return to your place between your wife’s legs with the toy strapped to your hips. You rub the tip against her wet, puffy lips and you revel in her needy whines.

“Fuck, I need you inside me, now.”

You can’t wait any longer and you grab your wife’s hips and move her up to the middle of the bed before crawling on top of her. You briefly consider making her suck your strap to get it ready, but you know she’s plenty wet enough, and too needy to wait. You lift her legs over yours and scoot under her so she’s practically in your lap. Wanda moans and arches her back to get closer to you, but you hold her still as you take a deep breath.

“Whatever you want, baby.”

When you slide into Wanda she nearly comes right then and there. Her mouth falls open but no noise comes out as you steal her breath when your hips meet hers. You moan at the sight of being deep in your wife and you buck against her hips in a way that makes her gasp in pleasure. You wait for a few moments to let her adjust, but she’s already rocking against you impatiently and muttering pleas under her breath.

You decide you’ve made her wait long enough and you start to pull back before you sink yourself in again. Wanda squeezes her eyes shut as pleasure brings tears to her eyes, and she moans when you bottom out again.

“Fuck, h-harder. Please.”

You hear your wife’s desperate plea and you don’t need to be told again to start moving. You hold onto her hips tightly as you start to thrust into her at a hard, steady pace. The sound of Wanda’s moans make you shudder in pleasure and you close your eyes to hold off your own orgasm that is threatening to overwhelm you. You move your wife’s legs from your sides and throw them over your shoulders to get a better angle, and she nearly screams as you start fucking into her deeper.

“O-oh god, Daddy!”

Wanda’s too overwhelmed by you sliding against her g spot with each thrust to be embarrassed by what she let slip. You’re too focused on making her come to acknowledge how that title makes you even hotter for your wife. It was no secret that you were usually the one to take charge in bed, and occasionally when things are rougher, more heated like they were now you and Wanda have experimented with things such as this. You were still too embarrassed to bring it up outside of the bedroom, but hearing it now makes you near feral.

You moan as you throw your hips against your wife’s harder and she responds with a guttural moan.

“You like it when Daddy fucks you like this, baby girl?”

You move your hands down Wanda’s legs feeling them shudder beneath your touch before your fingers start to circle her clit. She screams as you push her over the edge into another mind-numbing orgasm.

“Yes! Fuck, I’m coming!”

You feel your wife fall apart beneath you as her entire body shudders in pleasure. You try to keep thrusting but she’s clenching too tight so you settle on just staying buried in her. The sight of your wife with her head thrown back and her body trembling beneath you makes you come right after her. You groan under your breath as you grind your hips against hers.

“Fuck, fuck!”

You ride out your orgasm before you realize that Wanda’s rocking against you again. You open your eyes and see her looking at you with pupils blown wide with lust and you know that whatever comes out of her mouth next, you’ll agree to readily.

“One more? Please, I need you,”

You pull out of her quickly ignoring her whine as you remove her legs from your shoulders and lean over to kiss her deeply. You moan as she bites your lips and you know what she’s doing, but you give in anyway. You love your wife too much to refuse her, brattiness and all.

“On your knees, baby.”

You watch as Wanda sits up and shakily gets to her knees. You hold her by the hips to steady her as she turns away from you and drops onto her hands and knees. You groan at the sight of her spread out before you and can’t help but run your hands down her legs to squeeze her ass. She moans and you can’t help but moan too when she drops to her elbows and offers herself up to you like this. You run your fingers through her folds making her rock back against you with a breathy curse and you hurry to fill her up again.

“Fuck baby. You’re so gorgeous. My pretty girl.”

Wanda just moans as you push into her again, the new angle making her buck her hips hard against you. She can feel the head of the strap rubbing against her sensitive spot and she knows she won’t last long like this. Luckily you seem to realize this and you don’t waste any time building her up again. She’s glad she’s already on her elbows because her arms start to shake as you slam your hips against her ass.

“God, you feel s-so good.”

Wanda’s near delirious as she lets you fuck her from behind. Her mouth’s hanging open but the only sounds coming out are an occasional gasp or pleas for more, harder. You comply as always and Wanda’s close to coming when you stop short to pull her up. She doesn’t get a chance to complain when you pull her to your chest and continue thrusting up into her. She stiffens against you and you know she’s close to her limit by how incoherent her pleas are. She begs for more, and you give it to her without hesitation. Your thrusts are near bruising and your hand sneaks around to rub her clit to send her over the edge.

“Shit, I’m--.”

Wanda’s cut off by her last orgasm and she’s shaking hard as she comes against you. Her head’s thrown back and she’s leaning so heavily into you that you’re supporting most of her weight. You stop thrusting and your hand falls from between her legs when her breath starts to hitch from oversensitivity. You stay still as you let your wife come down from her high, and you just kiss her neck and hold her close to you until she catches her breath.

“I love you, Wanda.”

Wanda sighs as she nods in agreement before she finds her voice. She’s hoarse and she’d be more embarrassed if she weren’t so sated and sleepy.

“Love you too, detka.”

You feel Wanda become even more limp against you and you start to move before she can fall asleep. She hisses slightly as you shift her off your strap but you hold her close as you adjust her in your arms.

“Don’t fall asleep yet, babe. Let’s get you in the bath.”

Wanda doesn’t respond beyond a hum of acknowledgement and you feel slightly guilty about how blissed out she is. Usually, it doesn’t take her this long to recover, but she’s been stressed and really needed this release, or four. She’s not complaining as you walk into the bathroom and start the water to fill the tub. You manage to take off and discard the toy with your wife in your arms and you carefully set her in the tub once it’s filled most of the way. Wanda hisses at the feeling of the hot water against her skin, but she immediately relaxes as the smell of the soap you added fills her senses.

She hums as you shut the door, stop the water and climb in with her. She’s still listing slightly so you want to make sure you hold her up and keep her head above water. You kiss the side of her head and wrap your arms around her gently.

“Hmm, thank you, detka.”

Wanda finally opens her eyes and kisses your cheek before lying back against you. She shifts slightly so her legs are to her chest and she’s turned more towards you. You nod before reaching for a wash cloth to dab some of the sweat from your wife’s forehead.

“Of course, love. I needed a bath anyway.”

Wanda lets out a breathy laugh at this as she slaps you playfully before leaning away from you slightly. She takes a moment to really look at you, and she reaches up to run her fingers over your injured cheek carefully.

“I mean all of it, Y/n. I’m glad to finally be spending time with you uninterrupted.”

You nod in agreement because it has seemed like too long since you have had the privacy to be together, doing whatever it is you wanted to be doing. You kiss your wife with a small smile before shifting so you can lean against the tub. You feel your eyelids growing heavy, but you fight the urge to sleep as you turn you attention back to your wife.

“Me too. I’m sorry things are so complicated right now.”

Wanda frowns at your apology because she’s not quite sure why you’re giving it. You’ve had nothing to do with this and she wants to make sure you know that. She sees you drifting off and she berates herself for not realizing or rather remembering how exhausted you are. She reaches out for you again and kisses you with a shake of her head.

“You don’t have to apologize. None of this is your fault, okay?”

Even after your discussion with Bucky, you don’t quite believe this but you don’t have the energy to argue with your wife right now. You stifle a yawn as you close your eyes and rest your head against Wanda’s shoulder. Time passes too quickly and you and Wanda are getting out of the tub before you know it. You’re drying off while she disappeared into the bedroom to clean a little and she returns with some clothes for you. You smile gratefully before putting them on quickly and heading back into the bedroom with Wanda on your heels.

“Come on, we still have some time before dinner.”

Wanda doesn’t argue and follows you into bed with a nod. She’s not really sure what’s happening for dinner since neither of you cooked, but she’d worry about that after a nap. She knows you’re about to collapse and she wants you to rest so she lies down next to you without protest. You groan at the feeling of your head hitting the pillow and despite cleaning you can smell Wanda’s perfume on it and you love it.

“Why are you so far away?”

Wanda laughs before rolling her eyes and scooting closer to you. She sighs happily as you wrap your arms around her waist and rest your head against her shoulder. You’re asleep in minutes and Wanda just stays up and watches as you sleep soundly beside her. She sighs before shifting a little so she can grab her phone. She sees a couple of texts from Pietro and one from Nat and Bucky, but she doesn’t answer them right now. She wants to enjoy being with you without having to worry about anything that happened today, this week even. Wanda sighs again before she closes her eyes and follows you into sleep.

Wanda wakes up a couple of hours later to the sound of her phone going off. She’s disoriented and half-awake when she answers it so she doesn’t bother to check and see who it is. She regrets this quickly when she realizes who’s on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“Hey Wands open up, we’re here for dinner.”

Her brother’s voice woke her up quickly and she’s carefully extracting herself from you and getting out of bed. She looks to the clock and sees that it’s 6pm and she curses as she grabs clothes to throw on as she asks the obvious question.

“Who’s here for dinner?”

The sound of knocking coming from outside makes Wanda groan and she hangs up before she finishes dressing and runs outside. Boone is waiting at the door pawing at it as her brother continues to knock. She runs a hand through her hair haphazardly before opening the door to see nearly her entire friend group on the other side.

“Oh hey, what’s-?”

Wanda’s cut off as her brother pulls her into a hug and pushes her out of the doorway so everyone else can come in. She’s about to protest, but Pietro cuts her off with a confused look.

“Where’s Y/n? We figured we’d make you guys dinner since things have been a little---.”

“Shitty?”

“Fucked up?”

This comes from Yelena and Bucky who set down their bags in the kitchen. They too look around for Y/n and Wanda is quick to let them know you are sleeping. She’s still waking up and a little caught off guard, but she won’t complain about people cooking for her.

“That’s sweet of you, she’s sleeping. She was really tired after lunch and everything.”

Pietro pulls away with a nod and is about to agree with her when he spots something that makes him smile widely. Wanda doesn’t understand what’s so funny until her brother reaches out for her and flicks some of her hair over her shoulder.

“Ahh, I bet she was.”

Wanda’s eyes widen and she covers her apparent hickey with her hair and shoots her brother a glare. Of course, Nat and Steve were still close enough to hear this and Nat smirks while Steve looks slightly uncomfortable. Wanda isn’t in the mood or nearly drunk enough to talk about her sex life with her brother, so she promptly changes the subject as she pushes her brother towards the kitchen. Speaking of drinking.

“That’s not what I’m talking about Pietro. She’s stressed and I think she’s blaming herself for everything that’s happening.”

Pietro immediately frowns and Nat’s smirk is replaced by a concerned look as they all arrive to the kitchen. Boone’s quick to follow and he goes to Yelena who is the most likely to feed him. She’s too distracted by what Wanda said, a little lost in the conversation while Bucky’s reminded of what you said earlier. He doesn’t bring it up because he doesn’t want to betray your trust or put you on the spot, so he just waits to see how others respond.

Pietro responds first and shakes his head in confusion. As far as he knows, whoever is after Y/n is just vindictive and trying to get to Wanda. She didn’t do anything to provoke them, right?

“Why would she feel guilty, she hasn’t done anything.”

Nat nods in agreement as she moves around the counter to help her sister unpack the groceries. She stops short as she notices the icepack that Wanda hadn’t gotten around to putting up, as well as the bloody washcloth she’d used for you face. Her face darkens as she picks it up and Wanda notices as she gestures to the redhead who just tosses the washcloth and puts the icepack back in the freezer.

“Then that happened! That fucker. I swear I don’t know how I’ll convince her that this place is safest for her now.”

Everyone’s mind goes to the same thing. They’d all heard about the incident because Bucky had enlisted Steve’s help to deal with the blonde, Clark, and Nat had gotten her sister to help with his dumb friends. Pietro figured out last but he’d been the most upset. He’d wanted to see the blonde to punch him in the face, but Bucky said he wanted to wait until Wanda was free to see what she wanted to do. He’d already cut off his finger that’d had the ring that sliced open your face. He was left downstairs in one of the basement rooms that no one else had access to.

“God, I can’t believe that happened, that little shit.”

“I shouldn’t have left her alone.”

Wanda sighs as she shakes her head at what Bucky said. She would admit that she was angry about him leaving her wife alone, but honestly it wasn’t his fault. It sounded like this dumbass was just waiting until Y/n was alone, and it was going to happen sooner rather than later. She was just, oddly enough, glad that she’d been able to put a stop to it fairly quickly. Not before you got hurt, but she knew you were tough and you were more angry than shaken up which she took as a good sign.

“The only one to blame is the person who hurt her. Did you...?”

Wanda trails off because she’s certain Bucky will know what she’s getting at, and he does. He shakes his head before mentioning where the blonde is.

“No. I saved the honors for you.”

“Something for dessert.”

Wanda smiles at Bucky and rolls her eyes at what Yelena says, but she doesn’t argue. She’ll think about him later, but right now she’s thirsty, really thirsty.

She starts to head toward the fridge to get drinks for everyone, but Nat reaches out for her with a smile.

“Hey, why don’t you sit down? I can take care of the drinks.”

Wanda’s about to argue, but she eventually just caves because she is still pretty tired. She nods in admission before she goes to sit at the counter. Not two seconds later there’s a knock on the door, and Wanda makes to get up and answer it, but Yelena rushes out of the kitchen to do it. She waves Wanda off before saying something about a surprise.

Pietro walks into the kitchen to help and Wanda just watches as Yelena opens the door to reveal Kate standing there with a smile. They greet each other with a kiss and Wanda ‘awws’ at this and makes Yelena shoot her a warning look.

“Watch it Ms. Hickey or you won’t get your surprise.”

Wanda glares at her, but once she spots what Kate is holding her eyes widen. She smiles widely and jumps out of her seat at the sound of her cat meowing. She had left Fletcher because she hated the car and Steve had promised to feed her. That was before they were staying for more than a few days though, but Wanda would admit that she’d forgotten about the cat with everything else going on. Kate opens the carrier and Fletcher comes rushing out.

“Fletcher, come here honey.”

The cat meows loudly, angrily at her before jumping into her open arms. Wanda smiles and cuddles her cat before turning to Kate who is still is a little caught off guard by her girlfriend’s hickey comment. When Wanda turns to her however, she sees it and does her best to ignore it as she just nods in response to what the redhead says.

"Thank you for bringing her, Kate.”

She insists it wasn’t a problem before setting Fletcher’s things down on a nearby table. Wanda snuggles with her cat for a few moments longer before she lets Fletcher loose to explore familiar territory. Boone greets her immediately with a submissive lick to her face and she smiles as Fletcher just rolls over on her back and bats at the dog’s nose.

“They’re so cute.”

Wanda nods in agreement before she leads Kate to the kitchen and takes the drink that Nat offers her with a grateful smile. She’s handed water and her drink of choice and it takes a lot of willpower to not blush under Nat’s knowing look. Honestly, she’s just glad that her family wasn’t waiting outside their door earlier. They would have gotten an earful for sure.

“Congratulations by the way! Sorry I didn’t say it before.”

Kate’s sitting at the counter next to Wanda since there are already so many cooks in the kitchen. Wanda’s on her third glass of water, and only her first gin and tonic, but she’s certain she’ll have more by the end of the night. She turns to Kate with a smile, trying to ignore her brother’s look as she shakes her head in response.

“Thanks, Kate, and don’t worry about it. We’re both really excited.”

Kate opens her mouth to respond but Pietro beats her to it with a knowing smirk. He really is just trying to get slapped tonight. Dinner’s almost ready, and it does occur to Wanda that she should check on you to make sure you’re not hungry. She also does not want you coming out in the clothes you went to sleep in because you didn’t know everyone was here. She shakes those thoughts from her head as she turns to her brother.

“So excited, they’ve already started to try to have another.”

Wanda shoots her brother a glare that makes him happy that he’s on the other side of the counter out of reach. He winces slightly at the smack on the back of the head that he gets from Nat after a look from Wanda and the redhead smiles gratefully.

“You’re not going to shame me, Pietro. You’re the one who told me to relax, practically demanded it actually.”

Pietro turns to Nat with a frown and she just smiles at him before returning to her last-minute touches on the salad.

“Yeah, fuck off. Like you didn’t also have sex last night on your date with what was her name again?”

Pietro turns red as he just shakes his head and claims yet again that it was casual. They all laugh at him and dinner’s finished up as well as Wanda’s drink in the next few minutes. She was at least allowed to set the table and after batting Fletcher off of it yet again, she decides to go check on you. She excused herself before disappearing into the bedroom. The lights are still off so she’s sure you’re asleep, but then she realizes you’re not in the bed.

“Y/n?”

She notices the bathroom door is open and she heads that way and calls out for you again. When you don’t respond she pushes the door open and she feels her heart skip a beat when she sees you lying on the floor.

“Y/n?!”

She kneels down next to you as you groan in pain and shake your head. You try to sit up but she stops you with a hand on your forehead. She’s about to call out to someone, but you grab her hand and open your eyes with another groan.

“I’m sorry, I’m okay. I just felt nauseous and then I got sick and just laid here for a while.”

Wanda frowns at this and she opens her mouth to ask you what happened, but then she remembered. You’re pregnant. Almost two months pregnant. It’s a wonder you hadn’t gotten sick earlier, or maybe you had. She’s not sure, but she doesn’t dwell on it now as she grabs your shoulders and helps you into a sitting position. You close your eyes again because the motion makes you nauseous and you try to push down the urge to throw up again when Wanda speaks up.

“I’m sorry you’re feeling poorly. We probably shouldn’t have…you probably should have just rested.”

You open your eyes when your wife says this and you immediately shake your head with a small smile. You squeeze her hand and you’re about to kiss it but you decide against it once you remember that you’ve been throwing up.

“Definitely not. It was exactly what I needed after the 72 hours I’ve had.”

Wanda just nods as she inspects the cut on your check more carefully. It’s started to bruise and swell a bit, and Wanda’s reminded yet again of the man who’s waiting in the basement for her punishment. She wasn’t 100% sure of what she was going to do with him, and she knew she wanted to tell you about it, but not right now. You had so much going on it wasn’t fair to burden you with that as well.

“I’m sorry, detka. I’m working of figuring this out, I promise.”

You shake your head because you hadn’t meant what you said to sound accusatory. It wasn’t Wanda’s fault and she didn’t deserve to feel guilty.

“That’s not what I meant, Wands. I just—I’m glad to be here with you now.”

Wanda nods in agreement before she leans in to kiss your forehead. You smile at her and look her over and immediately notice the mark you’ve left on her neck. You’re surprised she hasn’t covered it yet, but then again you didn’t realize she was woken up and called upon rather suddenly.

“You should probably cover this before your brother sees it.”

Wanda laughs at this before she shakes her head in defeat. She hadn’t even remembered it when she jumped out of bed, and of course her brother was the first one she saw.

“Too late. He and the rest of the family are here. They made us dinner.”

You seem surprised by this and you look to the door before you start to stand. Wanda’s there to help you up and then hold you steady when you double over from nausea once you’re on your feet. You groan again before rubbing your face in exhaustion. You hiss when you hit your bruised cheek and Wanda shoots you a sympathetic look.

“They’re here now? I should go out there.”

Wanda knows you’d love to see them all but she doesn’t want you to push yourself. You’re sick and you’re still recovering from being poisoned. She doesn’t want you to go beyond your limits. She realizes she sounds hypocritical as soon as she speaks up.

“Don’t you think you should rest??”

You frown as you think about it. You know your wife is right, but you want to try and see your friends. You decide you’ll give it a try, and just see how it goes. You say this and Wanda nods in agreement as she heads to your bedroom to turn on the lights. She agrees to get ready with you and see how you feel. After she applies make up to her hickey, and you brush your teeth a couple of times and change clothes, you’re ready to give it a go. You reach out for your wife’s hand and kiss her in thanks before opening the door.

“Shall we?”

By the time the two of you are back in the dining room, everyone is standing around the table waiting for you. You smile immediately and greet everyone with a hug. You hold Yelena a little longer since she complains so much but you see her smile as you move to Nat. When you have your arms wrapped around her you sigh and turn to whisper in her ear.

“Thank you for earlier, Nat.”

She’s nodding before you even pull away and you don’t miss how she glances at your cheek with a frown before managing a small smile. You really are grateful for her and you have to hold yourself back from hugging her again.

“Anytime.”

You thank Bucky as well and he says something similar before you all sit down for dinner. You’re still exhausted but you’re still smiling as you sit down next to your wife. She and Pietro are at the heads of the table and Nat’s on your other side with Yelena across from you. The food smells great, but you really don’t have much of an appetite. Regardless you fill your plate because you don’t want to be rude and you’re sure at least a little will help settle your stomach.

You’re about to take a sip of your water when Fletcher jumps up onto your lap and you jump in surprise. You let her head boop you before you scratch her under the chin and set her on the ground.

“Fletcher, when did you get here?”

You smile at the cat who meows at you before heading toward your wife. She’s more likely to let her up on the table, but not when there’s already food on it and so many people here.

“Kate brought her.”

You smile at the brunette who just nods slightly before shrugging and insisting it was nothing. You know it wasn’t and you’re grateful for her taking the time to bring your wife’s favorite pet. You love Boone enough for the both of you, but Fletcher is Wanda’s baby and you know she missed her.

“Thanks, Kate. Wanda loves that troublemaker. Don’t forget to lock the windows.”

Wanda groans at this reminder and Nat can’t help but laugh at the memory of what happened. Pietro is of course the first one to speak up and he smiles as her teasingly.

“Are you talking about that time she got out the window and started scaling the building?”

Wanda just groans in answer and you laugh as Kate looks horrified by the idea. She was the only one not aware of what happened because Wanda had practically called everyone in a panic. She’d called you while you were at work because she couldn’t find her, and then as she’d started looking around, she realized the window was open.

“God that was awful.”

“I thought you were going to fall out the window trying to lure her back in.”

You recall driving home from work to find Wanda was almost outside the window trying to get Fletcher from one of the lower landings. Of course, Fletcher wasn’t in the mood to come back inside and she just sat there ignoring Wanda who was growing more frantic by the second. You’d sent Bucky to make sure she didn’t fall to her death only for him to find that Nat and Steve were already there trying to catch Fletcher from below. It had been a hot mess and Fletcher had been confined to the bedroom for a week afterwards.

Steve just grimaced as Nat smiles and nodded her head. “She’s already scoped them out. We made sure they were all locked.”

You shoot Nat a grateful look before you turn to Yelena who you assume is the one who kicked you under the table. However, she’s looking at her food and eating it diligently so you ignore her for now. You turn to Steve when he speaks with a genuinely concerned look.

“So, Y/n, how are you feeling?”

You smile because you’d been waiting for this question, but you’d expected it a lot sooner. You are almost certain that everyone knows about what happened this afternoon, but you don’t want to dwell on it. You still need to check base with Wanda and see what she plans on doing with the younger man.

You sit up slightly with a smile as you look to Steve with a shrug and a sheepish expression.

“I’m a little nauseous from evening sickness, but otherwise I’m just glad to be able to see everyone again.”

This is true and you can’t help but smile as you turn to your wife and grab her hand before turning back to your friends.

“It’s not ideal of course. None of it, but it did get me back here sooner than I expected.”

The rest of dinner goes well and you actually manage to eat some before it gets to be past Boone’s walk time. He’s pawing at you and you know what he wants, but you tell him to wait for a little while longer while you bid your friends goodbye.

“Thank you so much for coming over, guys! I was not looking forward to eating whatever’s still left in this pantry.”

As you were hugging Yelena goodbye despite her protests, she whispered a question to you that your wife could clearly hear from where she was standing beside you hugging Nat.

“Hey, so do you have any more weed with you?”

You laugh in answer and that’s all you get a chance to say before Wanda’s turning to Yelena with a glare. She does not want you smoking, or even around anyone smoking while you’re pregnant, and given you already knew this you just shake your head. You didn’t bring any with you from home, but you had some stashed in the closet unless Wanda found it and tossed it.

“No, nope. You’re not doing that any time soon, at least not with Y/n.”

You smile sheepishly at Yelena as she grumbles something under her breath, but lets it go for now. She turns to Wanda with a look that says ‘you’re no fun,’ but your wife shoots one back that you’ve learned means ‘test me, I dare you,” and it’s safe to say that you rarely take her up on her challenge.

“Is it time for dessert, boss?”

You look to her and then Wanda in confusion. You’ve clearly missed something because you all just finished dessert. Some ate more than others. You ate more than others, so you weren’t sure what Yelena was talking about. You see Nat expression’s change as she looks to Wanda who’s nodding in acknowledgement, she needs to get this done. Suddenly you realize what she’s talking about and you aren’t really sure what you want her to do anymore.

“I’ll meet you down there in a few minutes.”

Yelena nods and waves to you again before she leaves with Nat who shoots you a smile. You’re frowning when your wife turns to you and she’s a little nervous about how you’re going to react.

“What are you going to do, Wanda?”

You watch as she closes the door with a sigh as she shakes her head. She hasn’t thought about it much and despite still being angry, furious at him for daring to go after you – to hurt you, she’s not sure she wants to kill him anymore. You see her thinking and you want to have this conversation sitting down because you’re tired again, so you grab your wife’s hand and lead her to the bedroom.

“I’m not sure, Y/n.”

“Well let’s talk about it, but I need to sit down, come on.”

Wanda’s quick to follow you, but Boone stays at the front door waiting to be let out. You’ll get to him in a second, but for now you need to figure out how your wife is spending her night. You sit down on the bed with a yawn and you stretch your arms above you head. You’re eternally grateful that your friends did the dishes because you barely have the energy to stand for too long. You wait until Wanda settles beside you on the bed before opening your eyes again. You can tell she’s a little on edge, and you don’t know how to make her feel better.

“What is on your mind, Wands. Talk to me wifey.”

Wanda smiles at you before she takes a moment to think about it. She’d been horrified when she saw someone get smacked right in front of her. Someone who was surrounded by three men. The moment she realized it was you, she grew murderous and grabbed her gun without thinking. She stormed over and all she could see was red as she watched him try to hit you again. When she saw you bleeding, she had wanted to hit him across the face and make him bleed too, but she hadn’t.

Now that time’s past she’s still angry, and she wants to make him pay. However, she realizes that this might be an opportunity to try and learn more about what the hell is going on. She figures that it won’t hurt to see if he knows anything about who’s after you, and if he doesn’t –and depending on how helpful he is, she’ll decide what to do with him at that point.

She says this to you and you frown in contemplation before you lie back on the bed with a sigh. You stare up at the ceiling and try to figure out how you feel about all of this. You’ve never been directly involved in any of Wanda’s crimes or otherwise shady activities, and the magnitude of a decision like this just hit you. You don’t want this douche to see the light of day again, but do you want him tortured and then killed?

Eventually you just reach out for your wife who’s watching you carefully. You pull her down next to you and she complies with a sigh as she lies down to face you. You brush some of her hair behind her ear with a smile as you shake your head. You stifle another yawn before smiling at Wanda in a way that confuses her more than anything else.

“I trust you Wands, you know this. You do what you think is right.”

Wanda smiles wider and leans in to kiss you softly before she nods to herself. She’ll squeeze as much information from him as she can, and if she has to hurt him a little that’s just a bonus. She’s about to thank you before you shoot her a smirk as you shrug in faux disinterest.

“And if you want to hit him for me, I won’t complain about it.”

You stand up with another yawn before deciding to change into more comfortable clothes. Wanda’s looking at you as you pull your shirt over your head and you pretend not to notice as you walk over to the closet before remembering that there are no clothes in there. You turn around and look to the suitcases that are opened, but still unpacked with a sigh.

“I’ll work on this, love. Do you need to change?”

Wanda hadn’t thought about this but as she looked down to what she was wearing she nodded. She jumped up and started to walk towards you to find an outfit but you stopped her as you held up your hand.

“Nu uh, hold on. I’ll pick something for you.”

You take a moment to look your wife up and down and you hum in contemplation before turning back around the suitcases to find options. Wanda decided to get ready and she takes off her shirt and the jeans she’d thrown on before waiting patiently for you to make your choice.

You find one of your favorite outfits on Wanda and then you imagine blood getting on it and you set it aside. You don’t even realize that Wanda’s undressed until she’s kneeling behind you and leaning in to look over your shoulder. You stop momentarily when you feel Wanda’s bare skin against yours, and you take a deep breath before forcing yourself to refocus.

“Would you like some help choosing?”

You consider taking her up on this, but you shake your head with a smile. You turn to kiss her to lessen the blow of rejection, but you can tell she doesn’t mind as her lips meet yours. You take a moment to kiss her thoroughly before it comes to you. You pull away rather suddenly and Wanda frowns in confusion until she watches you grab a deep red button up and practically throw it at her.

“This one. I’ll get the rest of the suit, oh and I’ll find you shoes!”

Wanda can’t help but laugh at you. Despite the fact that you are dressing her for an interrogation/torture-session/killing, she can’t help but love seeing you so excited. It’s not a date, and you won’t be going with her, but she still likes dressing up for you.

Wanda stands up and just finishes putting on her shirt when you come up behind her and slip on her jacket. You hum under your breath in satisfaction as you pull her hair out of the way before kissing her behind her ear. You groan at the effort it takes to step away from her and simply hand her the rest of her clothes so she can get ready.

“You look like such a badass, babe. Hurry back, okay?”

When Wanda puts on her shoes, she’s at your eyelevel and she kisses you before slipping a finger under your bra strap which reminded you that you weren’t wearing a shirt.

“If you’ll be waiting for me like this, I won’t take any time at all.”

You smile at her before you lead your wife to the door. The sooner she leaves, the sooner she can come back. You say this and she laughs before kissing you one last time and taking her leave. You sigh when she’s gone and it’s just you, Boone, and Fletcher. You’re not sure where the latter is, but Boone is pawing at you as he whines to go outside. You apologize to him before running to throw on a t-shirt and a sweatshirt before grabbing your shoes and phone.

“I know, buddy I’m sorry. Let’s go for a walk.”

Wanda’s journey down to the basement seems like a foreign one. She hadn’t been down here in months, and she barely remembers what it felt like to walk these halls. A lot of unsavory, illegal, and cruel things happened down here and she was aware of, if not the reason, for many of them. At least she had been when she was in charge, but she honestly still felt responsible.

She was at least able to take comfort in the fact that it took a lot to get down to this level of the building. She had the standard three strikes rule before you ended up down here, and by the time they arrived to this point, they didn’t last long.

Granted tonight was a little different for multiple reasons. For one, Clark, was only on strike two so he was a little early to the party on that front. However, given his offenses and who they involved, Wanda was being lenient in hearing him out instead of simply executing him on sight. Secondly, Clark had been with her for over a year. Most people she brought down here were newbies that were rebellious because they had their own agendas, or they just didn’t want to listen to a woman. It was rare that someone who wasn’t going to work, didn’t prove it a little sooner than Clark had.

For this reason, she wanted to take the time to talk to him and see what his deal was. She suspected he was just an egotistical sore loser who just acted out in the worst possible way, but there was always a small chance that he could help her.

Wanda decided that she wasn’t going to hold her breath, and she was only going to give him an hour of her time. She had more important things to be doing, and she wouldn’t waste her time with him when she could be back upstairs spending time with you. In whatever capacity. She smiles slightly as she runs her hands down her jacket to smooth out any wrinkles before she arrives to her destination.

“Did you start without me?”

Wanda walks into the room to find that it’s full and it’s clear to her that at least Yelena and Bucky have had their turns with the blonde in the middle of the room. He’s tied to a chair by both his wrists and his ankles. His face is bloody from where he’d been hit and his nose looked broken unless it was normally crooked and Wanda just missed it in their previous encounters. Lastly, she noticed a stream of blood from his right hand but she paid this little mind for now.

Yelena speaks up first as she shoots the pathetic blonde a glare. “I was just introducing myself, but he’s all yours, boss.”

Wanda briefly glances at the table on the left side of the room. It’s up against the wall and it has an assortment of things that she might find useful later tonight. She is mostly interested in the gun since she neglected to bring her own. She looks to Yelena and then Nat before eying Bucky and Steve from where they stand behind Clark.

“Thank you. If you wouldn’t mind giving me some privacy so I can talk with Clark.”

Nat and Yelena don’t even take a step before they hear Clark speak up, and they turn just in time to see him spit out blood at Wanda’s feet.

“I have nothing to say to you, bitch.”

No one moves as they watch the redhead for her response. Clark seems to be the only one who doesn’t realize the severity of Wanda’s simple smile and her slight head tilt as she eyes the younger man curiously.

“We’ll see about that.”

Part 7

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x you #pietro maximoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff & reader #yelena belova & reader #yelena belova #mob au #marvel fic

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sweet-s0rr0w · 9 months

Note

For the top five ask game - Top Five... of your own fics, please

Nor All That Glisters (Drarry, E, 111k) because it's the first thing I've ever written, and I loved writing it, and everything fandom came from this fic. It's still the fic I think I'm most associated with, and as well as the original amazing art by @fantalfart and @deancebra-art, it now contains art and calligraphy by @bluebutter-art and @squintclover, and the bound copy from @emmalovesdilemmas is the first thing I wrote that I've got to hold in my hands! Plus, I still think it's the coolest concept of all my fics!

Lonely and frustrated on house arrest, with no prospects for the future, Draco begins brewing Felix Felicis in an attempt to improve his lot. Just in the short term, of course. He isn’t a total idiot.

But before long he finds himself with a thriving business, a nice flat, some actual (albeit irritatingly Gryffindor) friends, and a very satisfying sex life. What’s more, no-one is hexing him in the street. And Harry Potter is single, and gorgeous, and giving Draco decidedly interested looks.

Stop taking the Felix? You must be joking…

Dreaming Skies (Dron, E, 21k, co-written with Tacky) because it's the only fic of mine I've reread properly, and more than once, and I love it more - especially Ron - every time. Writing it (in 13 days!) with one of my all-time favourite authors, and writing it for @sitp-recs, was a dream.

Draco's life is going nowhere, so when Charlie Weasley offers him a job out on his reserve, Draco doesn't think twice before booking a Portkey. After all, it's not as if he has many other options. But when he arrives in Romania, he realises that nothing is quite what he expected...

(a story about dragons and baking, friendship and little kindnesses, putting down new roots and falling in love)

Silhouettes (Dronarry, E, 17k) because I was so proud of how this one came together. I love the triple POV, the challenge of it, and I love how it skirts the line of some tough difficult topics but stays pretty light. Also, it has one of my two favourite smut scenes I've ever written (other is in Waking Up Slow).

Draco's trying to fix the Burrow, Ron's trying to grieve, and Harry... well, just what is Harry actually doing, anyway?

A tale of grief, gardening, and ghouls, bad memories, bad puns, and bad flirting, and nudity both accidental and very, very deliberate.

Crash (Into Me) (Drarry, T, 14k) because writing this was hilarious (poor @graymatters trying to American-pick it), this was my first time properly writing Ron, and although it's one of the silliest things I've ever written, I think it's a really good concept (Drarry falling for each other during a 24-hour Quidditch match!)

Harry’s done plenty of ridiculous things for charity over the years, but Robards’ latest scheme really takes the biscuit. Or rather, the teacake.

Good job Malfoy’s there to suffer alongside him this time, eh?

Thameslink, the 07:29 from Luton (Drarry, G, 1k) because I think this is a very neat and fast paced little micro which came out well. I also remember chatting to you (Tacky) as I was writing this very quickly and last minute for @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm's birthday, and - it was just one of those fics that wanted to exist, iykwim.

He gets on at Harpenden, you think, although it might have been earlier.

#difficult one because there are others that might be technically 'better'#cages i am very fond of ofc but finishing on time was a massive stress #among the elements i think is good but too personal #waking up slow i liked the relationship development and summer romance but i think it's a bit quirky #etc etc #drarry #dron #dronarry #don't think i didn't see what you did with the asks there tacky my friend

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ravenelyx · 1 year

Text

I love you in every timeline - Chapter 4: The Repertoire of Memory is Worn

← Prologue

← Chapter 3

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Words: 8.8k

Chapter Warnings: pining, some angst, Harry Potter characters appearance, no name use for reader, some swearing, use of 2nd person for the reader, book dialogue

Summary: "It was as clear as day, no matter how many times he had brought his tie to his nose in the days that followed, that you had no interest in him.". In which Sebastian, in his search for a cure in the Dark Arts, finds himself 100 years into the future and meets his most trusted companion's descendant (who looks far too similar to the girl he was once secretly in love with).

A/N: Basically a therapy session for him

You can read the whole fanfiction here on ao3

"The repertoire of your memory has shown me you yourself before you left. There were names of various countries, dates and sojourns and at the end a blank white page, but with rows of dots…as if to suggest, if it were possible: ‘to be continued’." -Eugenio Montale, The Repertoire

Perhaps he should have given the Gryffindor Prefects less credit after all. He should take back the bonus sapphires he had reluctantly given to the red gryphon for his "hospitality."

Because at that moment, it felt anything but.

He remembered the look Hermione had given you when you were about to tell him your deepest, darkest secret.

Okay, maybe that's too far-fetched.

But your tone of voice and the look in your eyes clearly showed that whatever you wished to disclose to him wasn't something you would have told Umbridge... or any other less preposterous teacher either.

He wasn't looking for validation, nor was he fishing for pity.

But maybe he did wish to be seen.

All things considered, no one in his new circle of friends — which looked more like a segment and a dot, given he didn't yet know where he stood with you — knew of his misadventure, nor of the reason he occasionally tugged at his sleeves when the cardigan itched at his wrists.

He wanted to tell Daphne.

He wanted to tell you.

He wanted to tell everyone.

Hell, he'd have even told Draco Malfoy if it meant that at least someone would acknowledge his standing, no matter how asinine and annoying their comments might be.

"...unless it's absolutely necessary," he recalled. But where was it that he could draw the line between necessary and extremely-and-idiotically-self-indulgent?

It had been two weeks since the Artefact had brought him there. Two weeks in which he hadn't seen Ominis or Anne — not that they wanted him around anyway. Two weeks without hearing her voice. Two weeks in which you hadn't visited the Undercroft, not even once.

He was there all the time, much to his dismay. If he sat there long enough, he could almost pretend nothing had really changed. He could almost trick himself into waiting for her to walk in and practise Confringo with him. He could almost hear Ominis and Anne's laughter as the Gobstones splashed him with their juice.

Almost.

He wanted to ask you to practise some spells with him there. Maybe, just maybe, if you placed your body at a certain angle and shrugged off your Gryffindor robes, he could see her.

Your hair was shorter. Just a little.

He had noticed it the day before when you'd turned around to collect your potion ingredients, and it had been eating at him ever since. Stupid, really, because your hair should have been the last point on his list of discrepancies between you two.

As demonstrated by your escapade in the Library, it was quite obvious that, aside from some physical features and your last name, you two were like chalk and cheese.

"I can be sneaky, let's go," she had said, naively.

"Hold on, now," he had answered her with a small, knowing smile.

"Is it always this easy to sneak in?" he heard his voice say again.

"The Library is closed at this hour, so no. It's not."

"You said the librarian would be gone by now!"

"I said usually!"

"It's five to eight. That means we have twenty minutes, at max , before Madam Pince returns," and he had nodded in understanding.

He took a loud, deep breath that sounded more like a choked gasp.

Everything felt wrong. Everything was wrong. It felt like the Universe (or that damn Supreme Being that had been toying with him since he arrived in this world) had swapped your places. And the more he looked at you, the less he saw her.

And that scared him.

Because if one thing was true about Sebastian Sallow, it was that he was a selfish, heedless bastard when it came to matters of the heart, and if the only way to have her back by his side was to love her vicariously through you, he wasn't going to budge.

But now he was starting to notice too many differences, and not just on a physical level. Because while he could ignore your eyes, especially when you were facing away from him, or the birthmark near your lip, or the crease which only showed when you drew your eyebrows together, he couldn't ignore your lacking presence in the Slytherin Common Room, or your sagacity and boldness, or your confidence and wit, or the way you appeared to know how everything worked to the brim.

Or how you always seemed to be one step ahead of him.

And yet, he had to reluctantly admit that he didn't completely hate it.

And that scared him, too. If not more so.

Because he felt like he was doing her a disservice by admiring you.

Sebastian wasn't stupid, he knew that the reason his heart leapt at your mere presence wasn't because of some real-life fairy tale about love at first sight: he'd never doubted that what was going on in his nervous system (and in his stomach, which for some reason couldn't get rid of those stings) was just the result of poor emotion regulation and transference (and also a form of intrigue, though he wouldn't admit it out loud). He was extremely self-aware, he prided himself on that, but in the last year, when he had let his feelings take the reins of his body, the results had almost always been disastrous.

And he was sure that this time would be no different.

So he thought back to his promise. To stay away from you, as he told himself. To find out what had happened to her, and then to ignore your presence and existence as best he could.

But how could he ignore you when you were everywhere now?

There had been days when he had scrubbed his hand more than once to get rid of your drawing, only to regret it the next day when he saw it fading more and more.

And so it went on, an alternating nightmare.

Two weeks of it.

He often caught himself staring at the seat next to him on the sofa near the fireplace in the Common Room: the seat where she always sat. Now Daphne occupied it most of the time.

"What are you staring at?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are my hips funny or ...?"

"What? No," he snapped out of it, and averted his eyes, only now realising exactly where he was staring.

To anyone else, it would have looked like he was gawking shamelessly. But it was Daphne he was talking to: some days she seemed to know him better than he knew himself. She was bloodily perspective in her own way, and he was more than willing to open up to her, against his better judgement.

If it weren't for her loose blonde hair and bright blue eyes, he would have seen Anne in her.

He seemed to be forgetting that it wasn't only you whom he shouldn't get attached to too much.

"I just spaced out."

She clicked her tongue as she smudged a little on her diagram. "I suppose the Chinese Chomping Cabbages aren't exactly piquing your interest, are they?"

He watched thoughtfully as she struggled against the ink, and the only answer he graced her with was a guttural sound at the back of his throat. She seemed too distracted to care.

"Why won't it stop dripping?" The blonde hissed, annoyed, and Sebastian half-smiled in amusement.

And then he reached into his pocket.

"Try this."

Daphne furrowed her eyebrows and picked up the weird stick he was holding.

"Is this a new kind of wand or…? Didn't know Ollivander had stepped up his game."

He rolled his eyes. "It's a pen. A… A muggle invention. Just press it on the paper and write. You won't need ink."

She looked at it suspiciously, as if asserting that it wasn't a Zonko product that would spray her with Bouncing Spider Juice when she least expected it. In the end, she seemed to trust him enough and shrugged.

And so she did as she was told.

"My, my!" The girl grinned. "You know I'm going to steal this from you, right?"

There was a pang in his chest, and his breath was cut short at the idea. He remembered the playful twinkle in your eyes and your smile as you handed him that same pen.

"No you won't," he retorted, his voice trembling slightly more than he had hoped.

"Ho ho," she said, keeping the pen tight in her hand and biting her lip to stop a sly grin from breaking onto her face. "Why not? Is it… special?"

He took in a sharp breath. "No. It's just my first muggle object… and I want to enjoy it."

"Your first muggle object, is it?" She shook her head. "You took it for a tattoo-making tool as well then, I reckon?"

"Tattoo-what?"

"Those weird marks Muggles draw on their skin. Permanently," Daphne shook her head, emphasising the last word disapprovingly. "But yours wasn't permanent, which means..."

"Mine? What are you talking about?" The boy leaned back on the armrest. "I've never visited a Muggle - er - tattoo-maker."

She sighed, seemingly exasperated, but her small, teasing smile told him otherwise. He felt cold sweat run down his spine.

"It might be gone now, but I remember that weird circle on your hand, and I don't suppose you've drawn it yourself, so either you joined a cult or… someone else who would possess muggle objects drew it for you."

He flushed and hid his hand by instinct, even if now the skin was smooth and unblemished again.

Just how perspective was Daphne Greengrass? Or was he just far too easy to read?

"I joined a cult."

She broke into a laugh. "Alright, then. I won't steal your most prized possession from you."

He loved and hated talking to her at the same time.

Sebastian watched musingly as his friend twirled the item in her hand, stopping now and then to draw symbols and write short words on the worn parchment, and he thought back to the wide range of abstruse sketches on your notebook, and on how he wished you would take that same notebook with you to the Undercroft when you would finally accept his invitation to study together.

He tried in vain to pull himself out of that reverie, to finally come to terms to what it really was: a whim he shouldn't indulge in. What was really important, and the only reason he should keep you in his company, was to find out what happened to her, what had made the wizarding world repute her achievements perfunctory and irrelevant enough to enshroud her existence to everyone.

It was a rickety plan you were both treading on, going from pillar to post those last few days with no success. You had told him you had visited the Restricted Section again, but that the only book who made mention of Ancient Magic had just said something about the hides of dragons and their protection.

His heart broke a little upon knowing you felt the need to do that alone without sending for him to accompany you: he thought you were in this together. On the whole, though, you had only been the bearer of bad news, but despite the crushing weight of repeated failures, he wouldn't acquiesce to the sinking reality of the impasses you were piling up. He was as stubborn as a mule and intended to remain so.

As always, you got away with no one being the wiser. He could not help but be envious and enticed at the same time.

Sebastian had always felt like he knew everything: what other people thought, what his environment was like and, above all, what he himself was like. He had an assertiveness that few people could master and many would emulate. He knew exactly what to say to make people tick. He knew better than anyone how the school worked. He had studied its rules and guidelines, and knew exactly how to put one over on them when he needed to.

And yet he had got caught.

You hadn't.

Neither that time, nor the previous times.

Now, he had kept Tracey Nettlebed at bay by fulfilling her stupid requests, and that seemed to prevent her from telling what happened that morning — how she knew was still a mystery to him — but, to anyone other than Sebastian, Daphne and Tracey, you still looked as if butter wouldn't melt in your mouth.

He wasn't even sure the Professors would believe Tracey if she had — as people around Hogwarts said — "dashed the dirt" on you two, given how much of a blabbermouth she was, but Dean definitely would have, and that was the reason you had been so adamant not to let your adventure out in the open.

So, despite his own reluctance in having to ask you to get those Snackboxes-whatever from the Gryffindor Common Room whenever Tracey cornered him near the slithery entrance of his own — and the constant twitching of his left eye whenever you mentioned said boy — he had decided to push his own qualms (and feelings) to the side and had yielded to your wishes.

He hadn't properly told you Tracey's exact words — having learned a bit later that the shocked expression you had worn, which had made the pit of his stomach drop to his knees, was due more to the fourth-year's tone of voice and threatening look when she'd said his name than to the 'your little crush' remark — and he had absolutely no intention of doing so.

It was as clear as day, no matter how many times he had brought his tie to his nose in the days that followed, that you had no interest in him.

And his marks on cricket darts seemed as appealing as squeezing Bubotuber Pus from its plant with his bare hands.

In the end, the house elves had been quicker, and had probably had enough of him and that damned tie lying biasedly on his bed day after day, and managed to snatch it and launder it properly.

The avocado was gone.

As he looked over at the girl copying her diagram — or, more specifically, at her hand to assure the pen wouldn't disappear into thin air — the familiar feeling of holes being bored into his head came back. He grimaced.

"Look behind me, see if she's staring," he whispered to Daphne, and the blonde lifted her head slightly to peer over his shoulder.

"She is."

He gave a world-weary sigh and rolled his eyes once more. "She is going to ask me for those damn boxes again."

"I say you cast Obliviate on her and end this nightmare."

His lip twitched up.

"Tough when you have to salvage your crush's reputation and hide her escapades from her other crush." She continued with an exaggerated sigh.

He grabbed the heaviest pillow he could find and threw it at her head, while she brought her hands up to protect her face. She laughed as her hair flew everywhere.

"Alright alright, sorry." She took a loud breath. "But seriously, I think Tracey might have been following you to know all that."

"Would you have guessed?" He replied sarcastically. "Stupid Library date, stupid Dean—"

"Is that what you asked of her? Where to find Dean?"

He cleared his throat and looked away.

"You know it's funny that if it weren't for Tracey, you two would have never been caught. Gryffindors have been outdoing us lately."

That was a low blow — not that Daphne knew any better.

Because in a way, in his twisted, homesick, lovestruck mind, that could just as easily add to the competition between you and her.

"What do you mean?"

"Let's say some people have been… tarnishing our reputation…" She shot a glance behind them and he followed her gaze to Malfoy and his group. "While Gryffindors are prospering with all kinds of renegades. Harry Potter for once: he has been basically rewriting the rules of this school ever since he arrived. Ron Weasley, his best friend? might appear a bit as a nitwit, but I assure you he's lost more points in his first year than I did in five of my own. Even Hermione Granger is a little sly one, despite her goody-two-shoes image. And the Weasley twins… don't get me started on them. They are the inventors of the Skiving Snackboxes your little friend loves so much: the Weasley products have been thriving in this school."

He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest, and hoped Daphne had forgotten about you, but she had decided to twist the knife deeper — inadvertently of course.

"Not to mention…" and she knowingly quirked her head to the side, lifting her eyebrows in the meantime, "she's just as reckless and slightly more cunning. If she hadn't been a Muggle-born, I'm pretty sure she would be sitting in my place on this sofa right now."

That wasn't a low blow, that was a whole punch in his gut. Part of him wanted the girl to just stop talking.

Part of him wanted to know more.

"What makes you say that?"

She shrugged. "Well, she was almost a Hatstall, after all. The hat kept going back and forth between the two."

His throat did a strange thing, blowing out air so quickly he choked on his breath. He tried to cough as quietly as he could.

"S-So… she could have been a Slytherin?" He asked, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Daphne seemed to ponder.

"To be honest… I think she could have. But I don't really see her as an ambitious gal, do you? I think she is a perfect Gryffindor after all…"

He nodded absent-mindedly.

Yet another thing he added to his list.

"Why have you never visited the Undercroft?"

"I—"

To tell the truth, you had wanted to... but only when he wasn't there. Good old inquiry for your worries and doubts.

But he was there all the time.

Whenever you approached the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower, you would see him wandering about, looking ever-so-suspicious as he pretended to strut nonchalantly through the hidden corridor.

He stood out like a Thestral in a herd of Unicorns.

It was a sight to see, really.

Once you had even approached him just as he was drawing his wand, and he had jumped up in alarm, as if you were a Muggle who had just seen him walk through the enchanted wall in King's Cross.

For a moment you thought he was going to erase your memories like some common Ministry minion.

He had obviously invited you in, with an expression on his face that you couldn't quite decipher: too welcoming and too afraid.

And a bit too hopeful.

But eventually you had to decline his offer, fearing another ambush by his fellow Rita Skeeter-wannabe Slytherin, and walked away.

You weren't quite sure what to make of the way his face seemed to fall faster than a Quidditch player hit by a bludger.

And whenever your separated Houses graced you with different planned lessons and, consequently, different free periods, it was either Umbridge strutting in that same corridor (albeit with a bit more authority and self-assurance than your classmate), Hermione dragging you back to the Common Room or the Library to study, or Fred and George cornering you to recruit you as a test subject for their new projects (from which you always managed to scurry away much to the twins' displeasure) that ruined your plans.

You were on your way to the Astronomy Tower when you saw the familiar head of messy brown waves walk towards you. And all your terrible luck and, quite frankly, not-so-nice neglect of that place Sebastian seemed to hold at heart had led you to this conversation.

"I mean, of course you don't have to come in if you don't want to, I just…"

He seemed at a loss for words, searching his mind for a reason to give you why you should visit the Undercroft with him.

And the way his eyes darted around as he turned his head slightly to the right and upwards told you that he perhaps had at least one, but one he'd rather keep to himself.

You didn't inquire.

"It's not that, I've just been… busy. O.W.L.s and stuff," you replied.

It was the most conventional answer a fifth-year could come up with, and frankly, most of the time it was rubbish, a fib of the highest order: any Hogwarts student could see through that lie like they could see through the numerous ghosts wandering out and about, and yet it was a silent agreement between the younglings to accept it as a reasonably polite excuse that most likely meant, 'I don't want to hang out with you'.

(Perhaps Hermione was the only exception: she actually meant it, but she didn't need to use it as an excuse either, because she tended to make it everyone's business. In a way, she saved the grades of most of her friends that way.)

Sebastian didn't seem to catch on, though — perhaps it was due to a cultural difference from his old school, you suspected — and you were actually glad of it, but he definitely had his difficulties reading between the lines and recognising the underlying implication.

"You… We… We could study there, though? I mean, McGonagall did tell me I needed a tutor."

(He had no care for tutors, he could catch up damn well on his own, thank you very much… but you didn't need to know that now, did you?)

"Isn't the Library better for that? Less dusty…"

"Less private," he replied with a playful smile.

You shook your head and let a chuckle escape your lips at his beckoning.

"Maybe… I usually need a special kind of environment to concentrate. As of now, the only three places that have lived up to that expectation were the Library, the Beech Tree and the Common Room," you answered honestly.

"The more the merrier, no?" He encouraged hopefully.

You almost gave in.

Almost.

In a way, you needed to talk to him about something important — he deserved to know as much as everyone else.

But not that night.

"We'll see, I suppose," you answered awkwardly, averting your eyes from his, not missing the way his face fell again.

Just the day after, though, as Sebastian was wallowing in self-pity at your conversation, as Sebastian was conveniently looking away from you as you sat next to him in Potion, you slipped him a piece of parchment on the table.

He did his best to ignore it, even going as far as pretending to swat it away as he reached for his Beetle Eyes, but in the end he couldn't keep his curiosity at bay.

'We need to talk.'

It was simple. Simply enervating. Simply invigorating.

Simple enough to make the Beetle Eyes fall from his hand.

He saw you frown at him as he quickly bent down to pick them up off the floor, and he would have gladly disappeared if you hadn't followed him to help.

"Butterfingers, eh?" You teased.

He couldn't stop the small smile on his face.

"What did you need to talk about?" Sebastian followed you out of the classroom as your fellow students walked to the Great Hall for lunch.

He stared frontwards and saw Hermione's head turn left and right in bewilderment. When he looked over at you to ask what she was searching for, you were gone.

Now, if he had also started to hallucinate you, he would have considered it his last straw.

But then Hermione turned back and your hand appeared from Salazar-knows-where to grab at his robes and pull him into another corridor.

You looked around urgently, assessing that no one was in earshot, before you turned back to him and conspiratorially whispered: "Hermione doesn't want me to tell you this..."

His eyebrows shot up, and so did his ego.

So you were about to tell him, even if Hermione didn't want you to.

His heart began waltzing again, and he wondered what sort of secret you wanted to share with him that was so important you were willing to betray your friend’s trust for it.

"What is it?" He asked, trying to appear nonchalant and level-headed, but letting the façade drop when you didn't buy it.

"Are you willing to break some rules? Well… again, I mean."

Now that he wasn't expecting, and a thousand scenarios of what 'breaking some rules again' meant for you crossed his mind.

He imagined another escapade in the Restricted Section, this time with no Tracey following you, but maybe involving that same wardrobe.

Or perhaps a journey into the Forbidden Forest, meeting Thestrals, fighting giant spiders, kissing against the trees.

He slapped his forehead and you flinched a bit.

"I'll… take that as a no?"

"I'm very keen on breaking rules," he moved that same hand through his hair, trying his best to ignore how stupid he must look with a red print the shape of his palm on his face, "just… er... just what do you mean?"

Another part of him dismissed his earlier thoughts of any intimacy and imagined you asking him to follow you on some sort of cloak-and-dagger adventure; imagined teaching you curses and spells, telling you his every thought and having you sharing yours in return, showing you every side of magic he was willing to explore still.

He wanted to pretend that you would follow him into the deep, dark abyss of immorality and sin, that you would take the Cruciatus Curse for him if he had asked, that you would forgive him if he had told you about Solomon, that you would stand by his side even after his soul had been warped and infected and lost, and that you would do your best to put it back together and keep it with you, safe in your arms.

Of course, that's not what happened.

"We're thinking about having secret Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons and we are supposed to meet this weekend in Hogsmeade to discuss the details. I figured, since you hate Umbridge just as much as the next person, that you deserved a chance."

His mouth fell open. Secret lessons?

"Like a secret club, or…?” He couldn’t help but think of Lucan Brattleby and how Crossed Wands would suffer without his presence. If any of them even noticed.

“We’re not sure yet, it's barely an idea. It’s just... you know how Umbridge has been treating our education, and given what has happened in the past few years, and especially last year, I think we should all be prepared for what’s out there.”

What's out there? Last year? How much did he still have to catch up on?

He knew about some Dark Wizard being around — Ron and Hermione had explained all about it his first day — but the way you spoke about it, the whole ordeal seemed far more serious than he had anticipated.

“Sure, count me in,” he simply said, clasping one hand in the other.

“Then we’ll meet this weekend and go to Hogsmeade together. Mind you, let’s stay away from Hermione at first, or she’ll become suspicious: it's better to ease her into the news once she has no way to moot… or argue.”

Sebastian didn’t want to let his thoughts wander.

But there was a certain word flying around in his mind that he desperately tried to keep under key.

“Is this a date?” He asked with a playful grin, letting the key fall with a clang.

You rolled your eyes. “Tell me why I knew you’d say that.”

That should have made him feel somewhat proud, but he only felt a painful twinge in his heart. Is that all you thought of him?

He bit the inside of his cheek.

“Do you have your permission slip?” You asked him, and he shrugged.

“I’m sure I’ll manage.”

The day came, just like any day when you live in a world where clocks just won’t stop.

And Sebastian dearly wished they would.

You were a few steps ahead of him — a well-conceived strategy not to let Hermione have her suspicions — and he just couldn’t stop staring at your hair.

And how it should be just a bit longer.

He wanted to slap his forehead again, but that would have drawn too much attention to himself, and, honestly, he could do with less attention lately. He already had too many holes in his skull from Tracey’s piercing eyes.

Add another one right through his glabella from Filch.

After the caretaker had ungracefully leaned in towards Harry Potter to smell him, he was now eyeing Sebastian up and down like he was a rat who stole cheese right under his nose.

His permission slip was perfectly valid, though, as Dumbledore himself had guaranteed for him given the circumstances.

He walked a few feet behind you, with Daphne following suit.

"So it's a date, or…?" She gave him a smirk.

"Not really." He replied curtly as he remembered your words.

As you reached the outskirts of Hogsmeade, you seemed to have found an excuse to separate yourself from the group, and he said goodbye to Daphne who in turn went and joined another Slytherin boy, whom Sebastian recognised from that day in Charms.

As soon as the trio was far enough that you could barely distinguish their shapes, you motioned Sebastian to join you, and he did so with a grin and a bouncing of his feet.

And a growing shame in his bones once he realised it.

"Well well, looks like you will be my tutor after all?" He tilted his head and let a small, teasing smile play on his lips.

You weren't looking at him, though, but at the spot on the ground right next to him, scrutinising it like it was the most interesting place in the Highlands. Your eyes then began running up and down under a frown, inspecting the air. He turned his head, half-expecting to see someone standing next to him, or at least anything more than the flying, rusty leaves.

"Are you seeing something I'm not?" He asked half-jokingly.

And then it hit him. Maybe you were seeing something he wasn't — maybe some white drops dancing on the ground, maybe traces of Ancient Magic, maybe your gift was actually there, only dormant, maybe—.

"Was Daphne not interested?" You interrupted his musing, finally gracing him with eye contact.

His chest seemed to deflate. "What?"

"In the lessons, I mean. I expected her to be, perhaps I was wrong."

Sebastian hadn't told Daphne what his meeting with you was for: he had thought it was a secret between you two. Sure, he knew Hermione would be there, and if she was, so would Ron and Harry, but it would have been easier to steal you away from three people than more.

He had even planned the lessons in his mind like a madman, dreaming of the day when he could teach you everything you didn't already know yourself.

"Uh... she had something else to do."

You nodded in acknowledgement. "We're meeting at the Hog's Head. It's a bit more hidden and away from prying eyes. No one would mind if a bunch of students suddenly came in there."

A bunch? How many people were supposed to intrude?

It's not intruding, he reminded himself. This wasn't his idea. He was the one intruding.

"Fine by me… so, how many people are we talking about?"

"A few… could be ten, could be twenty…" you shrugged.

That was a great deal more than a few.

"Good… all right…"

There was a beat of silence as the two of you set foot on the High Street.

“So, I had promised Hermione I’d meet them beforehand, so you’ll either come with me and witness her wrath, or you’ll come in with everybody else and endure the ugly stares they're going to throw your way.”

The boy stared at you for a moment. “You have an awful way of making people feel welcomed.”

"I'm glad," you smiled and cocked your head to the side. He sighed.

"Wouldn't I get ugly stares nonetheless?"

"Yes, probably, but in that case I'll be there, and I'll guarantee for you."

"I'll send you an owl next time I'll face trial in front of the Wizengamot."

You turned your head away with a dampened smile.

There were a few new houses around the village and fewer shops than in his time, at least on the main street.

"I assume the school has been lending you its supplies in the past two weeks?" You asked.

"It has, but McGonagall has advised me to buy my own earliest opportunity."

"Well, seems like an opportunity to me," you grinned up at him. "Come on, let's indulge in some calm before the storm."

He gave a low chuckle.

The two of you walked through the town, stopping every once in a while to greet other students or shop for supplies. He had a limited budget — he didn’t have his own money after all — and made sure to pay extra attention to the prices.

You didn't comment on it for which he was glad.

"Are those the infamous Weasley twins?" Sebastian asked when a tall, red-haired boy sent you a wave from the entrance of Zonko's Joke Shop.

"That's Fred, the other is George. Infamous, huh?" You waved back.

So they were the Fred and George you had mentioned.

After a last stop at J. Pippin's Potions, you suddenly turned towards him.

"It's time, I believe."

He felt the hairs stand on his neck and nodded, following you to a side street, towards a small, scruffy Inn with the picture of a severed boar’s head over its entrance sign.

“That looks cosy,” you muttered and pushed the door open.

Now he could understand the fuss about that Gryffindor boldness, because he would have happily hesitated outside a bit more.

Sebastian followed suit, stepping on the soft ground of the pub. He frowned slightly and looked down, confused as to why one would deprive himself of the privilege of a stone floor.

It turned out the only privilege the owner deprived himself of was hygiene.

“This place hasn’t been cleaned in centuries, has it?” He asked, kicking the dirt with the point of his shoes.

“Adds to the aesthetic I suppose.” You chuckled, handing him a dusty, dirty bottle of Butterbeer.

He frowned. “No glass?”

“Oh I don’t think you want a glass,” you sent a glance to the dirty rug resting in the transparent cups on the counter, “might as well chug from the bottle like real cool drunks.”

You cleaned the top with your sleeve and brought it between your teeth, cracking it open. He did the same.

“If only it were alcoholic.”

“Everything can be alcoholic if you bring extra aid.”

He chuckled, and then reached for his pocket. “How much do I owe you?”

“Just be quiet and let me do the talking. That’s my prize,” you whispered, sending a glance to the trio sitting at the far end of the bar, hidden behind the wall at the entrance which was mercifully still shielding you two from your ugly fate.

“Here goes nothing,” and you stepped forward, letting the three Gryffindors see you. Sebastian followed right after.

And while the trio seemed happy to see you, their expressions quickly changed upon landing eyes on the Slytherin boy. They sent you a look of disappointment and confusion that sent chills down his spine.

“Before you say a word,” you began, placing the dusty bottle on the table, “let me explain.”

“It was supposed to be private,” Hermione said between gritted teeth.

“No,” you interjected, now getting worked up. “You said it was open to anyone who wanted to learn, and he —” you pointed at the boy behind you, who would have most surely liked to be swallowed by the filthy ground under him, “— wants to learn.”

He gave them a tight-lipped smile, mustering as much poise and politeness as he could.

“But he… he’s —”

“He’s what?” You cocked an eyebrow daringly. “A Slytherin? Who gives a damn.”

Sebastian flinched at your harshness, but his chest warmed up nonetheless… and no, it wasn’t because of the Butterbeer. Hermione seemed to deflate in her seat, gasping once or twice before finally yielding.

“Fine… I— I suppose if you trust him…”

“I do.” You interrupted, and scooted closer to him for good measure. He couldn't have stopped his face from flushing even if he wanted to.

Harry and Ron only glanced at each other with wide eyes and buried their attention in the bottle in their hands.

"Well, that was easy enough," Sebastian whispered to you once you sat down, making sure the trio wouldn't be able to hear his words.

"Shut up. My heart's beating in my face," you sighed slowly, taking place next to him and downing half of your bottle in one go. He suppressed a chuckle, and you nudged his arm with your elbow in protest.

"You have Butterbeer on your lips," he observed, his lips stretched into a smirk.

Your eyes widened and you quickly wiped it away with the sleeve of your robes, a light blush on your cheeks. "If you breathe so much as a word..."

"You missed a spot," he taunted you further, grabbing a napkin from the table and leaning in to clean it for you, but you flinched away from it.

"I'm not putting that thing anywhere near my mouth." — you attempted to do it yourself, using your robes again — "There are probably traces of Spattergroit from the eighteen hundreds."

He rolled his eyes and tossed it back on the table. "Fair enough, although the eighteen hundreds aren't as far back as you think." He pushed his sleeve down to cover his palm, keeping it in place with his thumb, and gently brought it to your lips, holding your chin in place with his other hand.

You stared at him as he cleaned your lips. If he weren't so gentle in the way his fingers pressed on your jaw, and the way the fabric only lightly caressed your skin, you wouldn't have felt your breath hitch as it did. And your heart would probably be doing its own job properly instead of missing so many damn beats.

His eyes were tender as he examined your face, fleeting over your skin to find any drop he might have missed. "We wouldn't want you to make a bad impression at such an important meeting."

"Oh, shut up," you averted your eyes, feeling your cheeks burn at his words, and his gaze finally met yours. His eyebrows lifted slightly, and you felt a twinge of guilt at your harsh words. "Thank you."

Your voice was breathless and shaky, and you cursed yourself internally for it. Sebastian only suppressed a smirk as he let his eyes linger on your lips for a second more.

"You're welcome."

Much to his dismay, his eyes inadvertently shot to the trio next to the two of you, who had been watching it all unfold with wide eyes, looking between you and Sebastian like they had missed a crucial Charms lesson right before their O.W.L.s.

You cleared your throat and moved away from the boy, your finger tapping nervously on the bottle in your hands, and he let go of his sleeve, smoothing the wrinkles caused by his grip.

After some small talk, Sebastian heard the door opening and a crowd of people trooped into the pub. He noticed a bunch of Ravenclaw girls, followed by a group of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. No Slytherins came at the rear, much to his disappointment. Maybe he should have invited Daphne, after all.

One of the first people to enter, though, was Dean, and Sebastian immediately noticed the way your eyes seemed to light up at his sight. He took another swig and averted his eyes.

“A couple of people?” said Harry, his green eyes looking even wider behind his glasses as he stared at Hermione in bewilderment. “A couple of people?”

“Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular. Ron, do you want to pull up some more chairs?”

The red-head grunted and stood up. Sebastian had half a mind to help, but he couldn’t risk losing his seat next to you to Dean Thomas, so he stayed put.

One of the twins approached the counter with long strides and a charming smile. “Could we have —” he stopped to count his companions “— twenty-five Butterbeers, please?”

Poor barman, Sebastian thought as his eyes were lazily set on the man getting down and back up behind the counter twenty-five times.

“Cheers!” Said twin began handing them out. “Cough up, everyone, I haven’t got enough gold for all of these.”

The Slytherin boy watched in contemplation as the students began searching in their bags and purses for Sickles, and at the same time ignored the dirty and confused stares sent his way all the same.

“What have you been telling people?” he heard Harry whisper to Hermione urgently. “What are they expecting?”

“I’ve told you, they just want to hear what you’ve got to say. You don’t have to do anything yet, I’ll speak to them first.” She replied nervously.

After a few greetings here and there, the students finally sat down (there was an abnormally large distance between Sebastian’s seat and the Ravenclaw girl next to him, who seemed to eye him like he was a leper). Hermione took a deep breath and began to speak.

“Well — er — hi,” she gulped loudly. “Well… erm…. Well, you know why you’re here. W—Well, Harry here had the idea…” Said boy shot her an ugly glance and her voice became even more nervous as she backtracked on her words. “I mean… I had the idea that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts…. a-and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us, because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts—”

“Hear, hear,” a Hufflepuff boy interrupted the girl and she seemed to shrink onto herself.

“Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands… And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory but the real spells—”

“You want to pass your Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. too though, I bet?” said a Ravenclaw boy, quirking up an eyebrow.

“Of course I do,” Hermione replied indignantly. “But I want more than that, I want to be properly trained in Defense because… because...”

Sebastian looked at her, his interest piqued when he saw your hands nervously crumple with each other under the table.

“Because Lord Voldemort’s back.”

There was an immediate reaction that made Sebastian frown, bemused. Some students shrieked, others spilled their drinks on themselves, others shuddered and murmured, afraid.

How could a name possibly incite such a response?

“Where’s the proof You-Know-Who’s back?” a blond Hufflepuff boy asked rather harshly.

“Well, Dumbledore believes it—”

“You mean, Dumbledore believes him,” he shot Harry a glance.

“Who are you?” Ron intruded defensively.

“Zacharias Smith, and I think we’ve got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who’s back.”

Hermione sighed and lowered her voice to a calm tone. “Look, that’s really not what this meeting was supposed to be about—”

“It’s okay, Hermione,” said Harry, his voice more alive than Sebastian had ever heard it. If a voice could drip venom, the Slytherin was sure there would be a puddle on the floor already.

“What makes me say You-Know-Who’s back? I saw him.” the black-haired boy said, staring straight at Zacharias Smith with unwavering eyes. “But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn’t believe him, you don’t believe me, and I’m not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone.”

Sebastian could see the tough facade begin to slip from the Hufflepuff’s face.

“All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory’s body back to Hogwarts. He didn’t give us details, he didn’t tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we’d all like to know —”

“If you’ve come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can’t help you. I don’t want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that’s what you’re here for, you might as well clear out.”

Sebastian faltered at his words and looked at you, hoping to meet your gaze. Something that could at least ease the uncomfortable feeling in his chest. But you didn't indulge him, your eyes trained on your friend, your hands clung to each other in your lap.

“So,” Hermione began again, her voice even more nervous after Harry sent a piercing, angry gaze towards her. “Like I was saying… if you want to learn some defence, then we need to work out how we’re going to do it, how often we’re going to meet, and where we’re going to —”

“Is it true that you can produce a Patronus?” A girl with long hair interrupted, aloof to Hermione's words, and looked at Harry, who confirmed it, still not lowering his guard. “A corporeal Patronus?”

Sebastian stared at Harry with curiosity as the girl introduced herself as Susan Bones. Producing a Corporeal Patronus in your fifth year was nothing short of impressive.

"You make a stag Patronus?”

“Yes,” said Harry.

“Blimey, Harry! I never knew that!” A Gryffindor boy grinned at him.

One of the twins chuckled. “Mum told Ron not to spread it around. She said you got enough attention as it was.”

“She’s not wrong….”

“And did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore’s office?” asked a Ravenclaw rather excitedly. “That’s what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year…”

“Er — yeah, I did, yeah,” said Harry.

There was a murmur of surprise and approval, some whistles and "wow"s reaching Sebastian's ears. But he ignored them. His eyes widened as he looked at the boy, and then at you as if expecting you to turn around and tell him this was all a prank, or that people were just making up rumours as Hogwarts students tended to do.

But your face was hard as stone, your posture straight and unwavering as you looked at your friend proudly.

“And in our first year,” another Gryffindor — who Sebastian had heard being called Neville — added, excited to have something to include in the conversation, “he saved that Philological Stone —”

“Philosopher’s,” Hermione corrected.

“Yes, that, from You-Know-Who.”

“And that’s not to mention all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year — getting past Dragons and Merpeople and Acromantulas and things…” added a Ravenclaw girl with long black hair, sending Harry a soft glance.

Sebastian's hands trembled around the bottle as he spaced out looking at the dirty floor. Dragons… Acromantulas… all thpse seemed a bit too familiar for his comfort. He shot you a glance again, hoping you'd turn around that time and tell him that it was no big deal. That you could do more. That you could do more with him .

He didn't know if he was more shocked at the fact that Harry — a simple wizard with no Ancient Magic — could accomplish all of this on his own or the fact that you — her direct descendant — hadn't.

“Look, I…” Harry sighed, interrupting Sebastian's train of thoughts. “I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to be modest or anything, but I had a lot of help with all that stuff.”

“Not with the dragon, you didn’t,” the Ravenclaw boy sitting next to Ron’s sister spoke again. “That was a seriously cool bit of flying….”

“Yeah, well—”

“And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer,” said Susan Bones.

Dementors as well?

“No, no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I’m trying to make is —”

“Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?” said Zacharias Smith.

“Here’s an idea, why don’t you shut your mouth?” Ron said rudely, looking as if wanting to punch said boy right in the nose.

“Well, we’ve all turned up to learn from him, and now he’s telling us he can’t really do any of it,” Zacharias blushed.

Both the twins stepped in, taking out a large metal instrument they had bought from Zonko’s Joke Shop and branding it threateningly.

“That’s not what he said”

“Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?”

“Or any part of your body, really, we’re not fussy where we stick this.”

“Yes, well, moving on…” Hermione sighed tiredly, “the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?”

A murmur broke through the pub, but overall, everyone seemed to be in favour. And here went all of Sebastian's plans. He wondered how suited Harry was for this. Sure, he had accomplished a lot, but… how much did he really know? How many spells could he actually teach him? How many spells could he teach you?

And for the first time, he felt a pang of jealousy that wasn't directed towards Dean Thomas.

“Right." Hermione continued. "Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don’t think there’s any point in meeting less than once a week—”

“Hang on, we need to make sure this doesn’t clash with our Quidditch practice.” A tall Gryffindor girl interrupted solemnly.

“No, nor with ours.” Said the Ravenclaw girl.

“Nor ours,” added Zacharias Smith proudly.

Hermione seemed to refrain herself from rolling her eyes. “I’m sure we can find a night that suits everyone, but you know, this is rather important, we’re talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort’s Death Eaters—”

“Well said! Personally I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we’ll do this year, even with our O.W.L.s coming up!” Another Hufflepuff chimed in cheerfully, looking around his companions as if inciting a crowd. “I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher upon us at this critical period. Obviously they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who , but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells —”

“We think the reason Umbridge doesn’t want us trained in Defence Against the Dark Arts is that she’s got some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he’d mobilise us against the Ministry.” Hermione explained.

Sebastian took another swig of his Butterbeer. Not only was Umbridge useless, she was also completely daft.

After some more discussion — and an argument initiated by a blonde Ravenclaw girl with big blue eyes about Heliopaths, a Ministry army and Spirits of fire Sebastian couldn’t care less about, they finally got to talk about where to meet.

“Hem, hem,” it was Ron’s sister who interrupted the argument, coughing in a perfect imitation of Umbridge that made Sebastian snort. “Weren’t we trying to decide how often we’re going to meet and get Defense lessons?”

“Yes we were, you’re right. Well, the other thing to decide is where we’re going to meet...” Hermione sighed.

A few students began suggesting different places.

“Library?”

“I can’t see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library,” said Harry.

“Maybe an unused classroom?” said Dean, and your eyes shot to him immediately. Sebastian hid his scowl behind the bottle top.

“Yeah, McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practising for the Triwizard…” Ron said thoughtfully.

You sent Sebastian a side glance and he panicked, his heart skipping several beats. Were you about to suggest what he thought you were about to suggest?

He sent you a pleading look back, but you had already looked away from him and he braced for the worst. But you didn’t speak.

“Right, well, we’ll try to find somewhere. We’ll send a message round to everybody when we’ve got a time and a place for the first meeting.” Hermione said, taking a parchment and a quill from her bag. “I-I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here.”

There was some resistance from the students: many of them didn’t look too happy to put their name on a list that everyone could read (the Hufflepuff, for once, was pretty quick to backtrack on his statement), especially with something as delicate as this, given the circumstances.

The twins were the first to sign, and then you yourself took the parchment and wrote your name without hesitation. After that, the students seemed more and more convinced and lined up in front of the parchment. After everyone had finished, Sebastian had a strange feeling rising inside him, as if he had signed a contract he couldn't get out of. It worried him and he looked up suspiciously at Hermione and then down at you, who didn't seem fazed at all.

It wasn't long before the crowd began to disperse, and you too decided to leave the filthy inn and say goodbye to the trio. Sebastian followed you outside.

"For a moment I thought you were going to suggest the Undercroft as a place..." He chuckled gauzily.

"For a moment I thought so too," you replied, lost in thought.

His breath caught.

"S-So, is all that true? What they said - what Harry did?"

"Yes, of course," you turned to him, puzzled by his question about your friend's achievements. “You had never heard of him?”

Yet another mistake he had made: the lack of thorough research into his contemporary environment.

"Let us say that I ... never indulge in gossip."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Of course..."

"But I noticed the scar," he added, hoping you would tell him more.

You shrugged and turned back around. "Who hasn't?"

"Very peculiar shape."

"Yeah well, it's only one of the most powerful curses there is. Nothing too big." You retorted sarcastically.

He felt a cold wave wash over him as he confirmed his suspicions.

"The- The Killing Curse."

"The boy who lived."

His heart stopped in his chest.

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