#but we don’t have time for that in the five second introduction circle!

[heavyhitterheaux]

His Favorite Poison (NSFW 18+)

AN: The trope that a lot of yall live for 🤭🤭

Synopsis: You and Jack grew up together in Louisville, but didn't run in the same circles. From what he had seen, you were bougie, entitled, and stuck up and the last thing he wanted was to be associated with you. Fast forward a few years later, you're new to Jack's team brought on by Neelam and as much as he wants nothing to do with you, he can't help it if you keep pulling him in.

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Jack Harlow Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Jack looked at Neelam in disbelief as she explained to him that someone new was joining the team and helping him with his new album.

He was all for it, until he found out it was you.

“Jack, she told me that the two of you grew up together in Louisville, so I felt that it would be nice to have another familiar face around. I figured that she would be a good fit. She is more than qualified to work with us. She’s worked with a lot of different people in the industry already.”

“Well the only thing I know about her is how stuck up and spoiled she is.” It was at that moment, as you were about to turn the corner you heard Jack’s voice and you could only guess that he was talking about you.

“Jack! Be nice! She’ll be here in the next ten minutes.”

“Tell her to turn around and go home because I don’t want her here.”

“Will you stop being an ass for five seconds?” Neelam said quickly growing annoyed with how he was acting. But you were steadily in the corner listening. It seemed like he already had his mind made up about you even though the two of you didn’t really even know each other. Even though the two of you did grow up in Louisville together, you ran in two very different circles. While Jack became a rapper, you became a songwriter and producer. But you two never worked together until now. However you had worked with Bryson as well as EST Gee many times. It wasn’t until Neelam practically begged you to work with Jack.

“No, I won’t stop because I don’t want her anywhere near me.”

Then you decided to make your presence known and not have this go on for any longer. The sooner you got this over with, the better. 

“Nice to see you too, Jackman.” You greeted him and he got somewhat of a startled look on his face while Neelam just shook her head.

“Oh… I-...”

“I don’t really care if you don’t like me, I have a job to do. I was hired because I’m obviously capable of doing it. But if you’d rather let Neelam continue to drown and not get my help, be my guest so I can go home. I have plenty of other things that I could be doing but I’m here with you.”

All you got in response was Jack sighing before he rolled his eyes.

“Now that we got that trainwreck of an introduction out of the way, we have a lot to work on. And Jack, did you even brush your hair this morning? You’re giving me caveman vibes.” Neelam stifled a laugh and Jack immediately eyed her as she quickly looked away.

“Who says that I even need your help and for your information, I did.”

“Well, you must have brushed it in the dark and obviously you need my help when you’re putting out albums that only get a 2.9 rating. The people of Louisville expected better from you and I plan on making that happen. So lose your attitude and leave your ego at the door. All those haters that you claimed to have are definitely not hating on that babe. Let’s do better moving forward, okay?”

“Well damn.” Neelam said under her breath, but Jack clearly heard her. At this point, his mouth was hanging wide open.

“We have a lot to discuss so I guess we should get started? Come on you two.”

You walked ahead of the two of them down the hallway and Jack simply turned to look at Neelam.

“I’m going to kill you for bringing her on.”

“You won’t kill me once she helps you. Like it or not, you need her.”

“All she’s done is terrorize me and insult me the minute she got here.”

“To be fair, you started it now, come on.”

You were sitting down trying to think of what Jack could do differently as far as his music went in order for him to bounce back from CHTKMY. It wasn’t a total flop, but after hearing his previous projects you knew that he had it in him to be better.

“Hmm, who knew that this is what I would be faced with on my first day?” You said quietly to yourself and Jack did a double take.

“What do you mean it’s your first day?! You’ve never done this before?!”

“And you’ve never put out an album rating 2.9 before either. We’re both learning here. But I have done this before. Plenty of times actually. I have a grammy sweetheart. I meant I’m faced with you being an ass and have to do my best to make sure this next album is top tier.”

“You don’t have to remind me of that every chance you get.”

“It’s supposed to motivate you to do better and I think I have a solution because no one is going to take you seriously if that happens again.”

“Let’s hear it.”  Neelam excitedly said and all you could do was smile at her. 

“Okay so, here’s what I’m thinking. From the research that I’ve done, this next album needs to be ten times or twenty times better than your last obviously. Oh and focus less on side pieces and all the hoes you get because let’s be serious, no one cares. We know you’re attractive and I can imagine you’re even more attractive when you brush your hair so we know the girls are all over you.”

“But…” Jack tried to add, but you cut him off.

“I’m not done. In Churchill Downs you say ‘everybody know Jack, but they don’t know Jackman correct?”

“And? What’s your point?”

“We need Jackman to show up for this next album and not Jack. We need to think outside the box and do something that you’ve never done before.”

“How do you propose I do that?”

“What do you mean how? You need to give your fans the real version of you because that will make them appreciate you even more. Despite you being an absolute asshole to me, I do want to help you do this and I take my job seriously. I felt bad when Neelam started to beg. I’m really here for her if we’re being honest.”

“HEY! You weren’t supposed to mention that!” She exclaimed and all you did was shrug.

“I call it like I see it. Now, we want this to be huge so, no promo whatsoever. We’ll drop a hint a day or two before it gets released and that’s it.”

“Wait a minute now, that sounds like a setup for it to flop.” Jack confessed and you could honestly tell he was worried.

“I promise if you do everything that I say, that it won’t be. And when have I ever made something that was a flop? Put some respect on my name please. I guarantee that I will have you number one on the charts. Just leave your ego to the side and do what you do best and I’ll do the rest. I need you to write a good ass album that will let people know that the little white boy that DJ Drama found from Kentucky is here to stay and he deserves a place in this industry. You’re not a fucking industry plant so you better not act like one. Now are we ready?”

“I didn’t realize that you were a fucking drill sergeant too.” Jack muttered and just crossed his arms. 

“If you think this is me being a drill sergeant now, You haven’t seen anything yet.”

—

“Jack, no. too repetitive.” You said as he was showing you lyrics of the current song that he was writing. It was around 11 at night in Louisville and the two of you had been working just about all day. There were a few other people scattered around the studio and Jack let out a sigh.

“I understand you’re frustrated, but I’m trying to help you make the best album you’ve done to date. So what are you feeling at the moment? We can use that to motivate you.” You curiously asked. 

From that first day of the awkward interaction, you and Jack had been spending just about every day with each other working on his new album and of course he was still being an asshole towards you despite you trying to help him. Although Urban told you that he would eventually come around, but you weren’t sure.

“What am I feeling? Feeling like I’m sick of this shit and that I want to go home.”

You simply laid your pen down on top of your notebook and fully turned to face him. He was looking at you curiously knowing that you were probably going to have a slick ass comment come out of your mouth.

“Jack, let’s just be adults and work through this. The sooner we get done, the sooner we go our separate ways and we never have to be bothered with each other again.” You tried not to show the disappointment on your face when you said it. You didn’t understand what he had against you seeing as you two didn’t know each other well.

“He will, if he wants to keep getting hit songs on his album.” Urban muttered and Jack shot him a look. 

“Now, I’m going to ask you again, how are you feeling right now?”

It took him a few minutes before he finally answered. 

“Like I just want to lay low while continuing to prove people wrong. Let the music speak for itself.”

“Then write that.” You said while scooting your notebook towards him.

He was hesitant, but he eventually took it.

It was almost one in the morning and you were ready to call it quits and resume later that morning. It was now only you and Jack left in the studio and you could tell that the writer’s block was getting to him.

“Jack, just get in the booth.” You said while looking over at him and he looked at you like you had lost it.

“I don’t even have anything written. So what am I doing that for?”

“I’ve been working on a few beats for you. Maybe if you hear it, it’ll motivate you. Do this and we can go home and be right back at it later tonight.”

Jack shrugged before doing as he was told. He now had the headphones on and you hit play on the soundboard. As the beat filled the studio, Jack was surprised and did his best to not show it on his face.

Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to bring you on after all. 

You simply nodded for him to start when he was ready and he simply freestyled what he was feeling.

It must be my skin, I can't think of any other reason I win (Ooh)

I can't think of an explanation, it can't be the years of work I put in

It can't be the way that I stuck with the same friends

It can't be the swag I got when I walk in, it can't be

It can't be the way I treat people or how I make time to see people

Or make sure that they feel like we equals

It can't be the smile, it can't be the eye contact with these crowds

It can't be my pen, it can't be these verses

That make people feel like I'm talkin' to them

It can't be the homage I've paid

Nights when I could've left the studio early, but I stayed

It can't be the tone of my voice

It can't be the thought I put into every choice

It can't be the Jeep instead of the Rolls-Royce

It can't be the downtime with my boys

It can't be the Tribe and the Biggie and the Nas

The Outkast and the Missy in my iPod

It can't be the absence of any facade

It can't be the worldwide hometown pride

So I guess (So I guess)

It must be my skin, I can't think of any other reason I win

I can't think of an explanation, it can't be the years of work I put in

It can't be the way that I stuck with the same friends

It can't be the swag I got when I walk in, it can't be

Once he stopped, he looked over at you to see if you approved and you quickly smiled at him and nodded. Once he was sitting back next to you, he mentioned that another verse and the chorus again would be perfect and that the song would be finished. So you volunteered to help him write it.

It took another twenty minutes, but in the end both of you were satisfied with it.

It can't be some understanding or branding

Or maybe that I'm outstanding

Or all the South American fans that meet me at the airport upon landing

It can't be my aunties and grannies

And every other woman in my family that raised me to be upstanding

It can't be that I simply make ear candy

Especially when the industry could just plant me

Especially when I didn't grow up on Brandy

Especially when I'm havin' dinner in Frankfort with Andy

It can't be a bit of good karma

It can't be the way they all said that he's a charmer

It can't be the lack of chinks in my armor

It can't be the poise when them boys try to harm us

It can't be that we built somethin' to be a part of

It can't be the way that every beat gets barred up

So I guess

It must be my skin, I can't think of any other reason I win

I can't think of an explanation, it can't be the years of work I put in

It can't be the way that I stuck with the same friends

It can't be the swag I got when I walk in, it can't be

“Now this is what I meant when I said that I needed Jackman and not Jack.” You said nodding in approval. 

“See if you weren’t so stuck up growing up, we could’ve been making hits.”

“Uhh, thanks? But what makes you think I’m stuck up? You hardly ever said two words to me growing up.”

“Do I really have to explain it?”

“Yes, because I’m obviously confused. I was never mean or rude to you.”

“I guess not since you probably didn’t know I existed. You always had this thing about you like you thought you were better than everybody.”

“Where did you even get that from because that couldn’t be further from the truth. I knew that you existed right along with the rest of your friends.”

“Let’s just drop it. I appreciate you doing this for me. Sooo, same time tomorrow?” Jack asked while getting up to gather all of his things and you quickly followed suit. 

“Yes I’ll be here.”

“I still don’t like you or trust you though.”

Your heart somewhat dropped hearing him say that and you wanted more of an explanation to what he said before. You barely said two words to him when you were younger because you were shy and you had the biggest crush on him. You still did, but knew since he had this idea of how you were in his head already that even being friends would never be a reality. But you knew you had to separate your feelings from your job. You were here to help make him an amazing album and that was it.

“Just like I said before, you don’t have to.”

It had been about two months or so since you first started helping Jack write his album and it was going smoothly despite the awkward beginning that the two of you had. Even though Jack originally told you that he didn’t particularly care for you, his feelings were starting to change the more time that he spent with you.

He noticed that everyone that came into the studio gravitated towards you no matter what was going on and that people spoke very highly of you. 

Not once did he hear anyone say something bad about you. It wasn’t until the two of you were getting ready to leave for the night when you noticed him hovering near the door. You simply raised your eyebrow up at him as he shifted his weight back and forth.

“Did you need me for something?” You asked while turning around to look at him.

“It’s 3 in the morning and I don’t want you walking to your car by yourself.” Jack confessed while scratching the back of his neck.

“We’ve left later than this before and I was just fine.” You replied while looking in your tote bag for your keys.

“I get that, but I should have done it then too.”

You threw your bag over your shoulder and met him at the door with him moving to the side so that he could let you go out first and he would follow behind you. The two of you then walked to your cars in silence and Jack was surprised to find out that the two of you had actually parked next to each other.

“You would have a BMW.” Jack blurted out before he caught himself. He was trying to turn over a new leaf with you and it obviously wasn’t starting off well.

“What is that supposed to mean, Jack?” You asked before sighing and opening your door.

“Um… just that it suits you. That’s all.”

“I’m safe and sound in my car so you can go ahead and go home.” You threw your bag in the passenger seat, but Jack not wanting the night to end just yet had gotten a bright idea. He didn’t want to admit to himself how much he liked spending time with you. 

“Um, I’ll follow you to make sure you get home okay.”

“Are you…. Do you feel okay?” You asked, confused by the sudden change of heart. Two months ago he didn’t even want to be in the same room with you and now he wants to follow you in his car to make sure that you got home okay?

“I feel fine.” Jack answered as he shrugged and got into the driver’s side of his Jeep. The two of you started up your cars and were on your way.

You made sure that Jack was close behind you as you merged onto the highway. You looked into your rearview mirror periodically to make sure that he was behind you and put on some music to distract yourself from your thoughts. You didn’t quite know what was happening between you and Jack, and you were sure that your heart did a backflip when he wanted to make sure you got home safely. 

You didn’t know if that was good or bad.

He had never done that before and you also noticed that he was starting to get shy around you. Whenever you would bring up something, he would see what you thought first before giving his opinion. 

It took about twenty minutes before you were pulling into the parking garage where your condo was. Once you had parked, you noticed that Jack had pulled up next to you. You had gotten out and made your way towards him as he rolled down his window. 

“Thanks for making sure I got home okay.” You said while giving him a small smile which he eagerly returned. 

“Oh, you’re welcome. I really didn’t mind.”

Since the two of you had pulled into the garage, you noticed that it had started to rain heavily and because you didn’t want him driving in that trying to get home, you suddenly blurted out for him to stay with you before you could stop yourself.

“Um, do you want to come inside? It’s pouring out here and I can’t have you driving home in that.”

“I really don’t live that far away and don’t want to be an inconvenience to you.”

“You won’t be, I promise. Just come on before either of us get sick and then it’ll take us even longer to finish your album.”

Once the two of you hit the top floor in the building, you led him down the hallway and stopped in front of your door while fishing for your keys in your bag to open the door. Once you did, you led the two of you inside and Jack was looking around taking in his surroundings. Everything was neat and extremely organized just how you were.

He didn’t expect anything less from you.

 It was at that moment you suddenly had a thought.

“Shit.” You quietly said, but Jack still heard you.

“What? What’s wrong?”

You simply threw your head back and sighed before answering him.

“I forgot my brother is staying with me this week so he’s in the guest room.”

“I can take the couch, it’s not a problem.”

“Jack, your 6’3 ass will not be comfortable especially if you want to stretch out. You can sleep in my room and I’ll take the couch. I have a king sized bed.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not kicking you out of your room. You were nice enough to let me stay so that I didn’t have to drive in the rain but I’m not doing that. And what do you need with a king sized bed? Aren’t you like 5’1?”

“Watch it Harlow. Just…. come on.” You grabbed his hand and led him to your bedroom. You immediately went to your vanity to start taking off your jewelry while Jack awkwardly stood in the corner.

“Jack, I don’t bite. Make yourself comfortable.” You said as you began to put your hair up. 

He slowly slipped off his shoes as you went to change into your pajamas in your walk-in closet. When you came back, your breath hitched in your throat because he was now shirtless laying on your bed with his hand behind his head scrolling through his phone. 

Get yourself together, Y/N. You thought to yourself before sliding in next to him. Jack put his phone down when you did and he looked just about as nervous as you did.

“Uhh, what time were we going to head to the studio?” Jack curiously asked as you turned out the light. You figured he wouldn’t be able to see how nervous you were in the dark.

“Um around 11? How does that sound?”

“That sounds fine. I have another song that I wrote the other day that I wanted you to look over for me.”

“Okay.”

It was quiet for a few minutes with just the sounds of both of your breathing in your room before you heard Jack’s voice again.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for doing this for me even if it didn’t start out so well. You could’ve quit right then and there. I’m happy that you didn’t.”

“You’re welcome and I meant what I said. It’s my job and I’m going to make sure that this album is successful. Now go to sleep because we have a lot to do today.”

—

“So you mean to tell me that you slept in the same bed as the girl that you absolutely hate last night?” Urban asked his best friend on facetime as Jack was picking up what he learned was your favorite breakfast while also getting himself something from a small cafe down the street. He noticed how you came in with the same bag to the studio everyday and he has learned from Neelam that you liked chai tea and not coffee so that’s what he got you. 

“Hate is such a strong word.”

“You weren’t saying that two months ago. I remember every day for that first month you complaining about her despite her doing something that benefits you.”

“I woke up with my arm around her and luckily she was still sleeping. I left and went home to take a shower and change my clothes.”

“And now you’re picking her up her favorite breakfast. Hmm, you're whipped.”

“What? How am I whipped? We aren’t even together.”

“Not yet anyway.”

“There’s no way. I don’t even like her like that.”

All Urban did was eye him and Jack quickly looked away as his name was called to pick up your order. 

He made his way back to his Jeep before saying anything else. 

“Ask her out.”

“She has it in her mind that I don’t like her. So I can imagine that’s not going to go all that well.”

“Why would she think that unless you actually told her that? She literally invited you to her condo and the fact that the two of you didn’t fuck is beyond me. If you don’t want her, send her my way.”

All Jack did was scratch the back of his neck as Urban looked at him in disbelief.

“No the fuck you didn’t tell her that.”

“Ehh, not exactly my best moment.”

“Why are you such a dumbass sometimes? You have literally had this one-sided beef with her for years and one that she doesn’t even know about. She deserves at least that much from you. To explain it, I mean.”

“I ask myself that every day and I don’t know if she even wants to hear me out.”

“Tell her how you feel before someone else swoops in and gets her.”

Jack had now made it back to your condo and briefly knocked on the door and was hoping that your brother didn’t answer because the last thing he wanted was to have to explain what was going on between the two of you. You opened it and simply eyed him as he handed you the bag that contained your food and what you assumed was chai tea. 

“What’s this?” You asked while looking at him dumbfounded.

“Your breakfast. It’s the least that I could do for you letting me stay here.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.”

“And I know you don’t really drink coffee so that’s chai tea. Neelam said it was your favorite.”

“Hmm, well thank you. I appreciate it.” You said while moving to the side so he could walk past you.

You locked the door behind him and went to the kitchen to sit across from Jack at the island as he also started to eat his food.

“Is your brother here?” Jack curiously asked while looking around and all you did was smirk.

“No, he left out earlier. Why?”

“I just didn’t want to explain why I was coming out of your bedroom at the crack of dawn just in case.”

“Last time I checked I was a grown ass woman and it wouldn’t be any of his business anyway. If I want to have sex with multiple people in one night then I’m going to without any input from anyone else.”

You saying that made Jack feel a wave of jealousy come over him and the fact that it wasn’t him that you were referring to. The sexual tension at least from his point of view was quite evident between the both of you, but since he had been an asshole to you before, he highly doubted that you would want to be anywhere near him when this was over and done with. 

“Fair point.”

It was now around four in the afternoon and everybody was stating how hungry they were and Jack took it upon himself to ask you to go to lunch with him and that he would treat you.

“You treated me this morning, so let me return the favor.” You said while looking up at him as he towered above you.

“No, you working on this album with me is more than enough. I’m treating you and I know the perfect place that we can go.”

You held your hands up in surrender and let him have his way, not wanting to go back and forth with him.

“Okay, let me just go to the bathroom and I’ll be ready.”

“I’m serious Y/N, leave your wallet here.”

“Fine.”

You walked down the hallway until you got to the bathroom and quickly went inside and locked the door behind you.

Only a few minutes had passed and once you finished drying your hands, you opened the door to see Jack standing on the other side of it. Before you could ask him if something was wrong, he abruptly kissed you and pushed you back inside all while locking the door behind him.

You eagerly kissed him back as he sat you on the counter before he reached down in an attempt to pull your dress up around your waist so that he could have easier access to you.

He briefly broke away from you to look down at you for approval and you quickly nodded. Jack got on his knees and slid your black thong down your thighs before putting it in his back pocket leaving you with your mouth hanging wide open. 

Proceeding to spread your thighs, Jack got as close as possible as he could to you taking one long lick and you immediately shuddered while your hands went into his curly hair.

It took everything in you to hold back your moans not wanting anyone to hear you since you didn’t know how many people might be around.

“Jackkkk, shit.”

He continued to lap at your folds and couldn’t wait to see you come undone in front of him. If someone had asked you two months ago if you thought that you would be in the position that you were currently in, the answer would have been no.

“Mmm, you taste so fucking good.” You heard Jack say and you couldn’t help but to moan.

“Shiiit, I’m close.”

Upon hearing you say that, Jack immediately went to suck on your clit making you hold your hand to your mouth in an attempt to stay quiet. You let a few moans escape here and there before both of your hands went back into his hair.

In less than a minute, you came all over his face as he continued to lap at your folds. He finally stood up and you brought his lips to yours in a kiss that almost felt desperate. As you were kissing Jack, you were multitasking as you undid his pants and slid them down along with his boxer briefs to his ankles.

You definitely did a double take once you saw how big he was, but that wasn’t going to stop you seeing as you didn’t know if this would ever happen again.

“Fuck, I don’t have a condom.”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m on the pill.”

Jack simply nodded as he slowly entered you and kept going until he bottomed out and let out a moan.

One thing you loved during sex is if a man was vocal and you could tell that Jack wasn’t about to disappoint you. 

You reached up to place your arms around his shoulders as he whispered in your ear.

“You okay?”

You simply nodded in return now that you had time to adjust and Jack quickly showed you no mercy with the pace that he was moving in and out of you with. 

“Fuck, you feel so good around me.” You heard Jack say as you once again covered your mouth in an attempt to hide your moans. 

Nothing was working as he increased his pace and you loudly moaned his name.

“Shh, baby we don’t want anyone to hear us .”

You whimpered as you felt his thrusts get sloppier and you knew that he was close and it was only a matter of time before it happened. 

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but you knew that the two of you needed to get back down the hallways before anyone suspected anything.

The both of you finally released at the same time as Jack was placing kisses along your neck as you came down from your high. 

It took a few minutes before your breathing to become even again as Jack slowly slipped out of you.

You began to hop off of the counter so you could pull your dress down, but not before Jack brought his lips to yours once more.

“You think they’re looking for us?” Jack asked you as his forehead was laying against yours and you had gotten lost staring into those blue eyes that you loved so much.

“They might be so let’s go.”

Once again, you attempted to hop down, but Jack immediately stopped you.

“I’ll go first then wait a few minutes, okay?” Jack proposed and you nodded.

The both of you quickly got dressed and Jack left out first leaving you confused on what had just happened.

You had just had sex with Jack in the bathroom at the studio.

The thoughts were going through your mind at 100 miles an hour but you couldn’t think about that right now.

You still had a job to do and would deal with your feelings later.

Finally you hopped off the counter and had a realization.

Jack definitely slipped your thong into his back pocket.

Once you had gotten yourself together, you walked back into the studio to see Jack talking and laughing with Urban as you made your way back to your seat.

How were you even supposed to concentrate after that?

But, at the end of the day you were a professional and knew you needed to get this done.

No matter how hard it would be to now have to face Jack every day.

“You okay,Y/N?” Urban asked you and you simply shot him a small smile.

“Never better.”

Over the next few weeks, Jack had acted like nothing had happened between the two of you and for some reason it was bothering you to no end. 

So he could just have sex with you whenever he wanted and act like everything is normal? 

Luckily, it was an off day for you and all you were doing was laying around your condo, stuffing your face with food and catching up on all your shows when there was a knock at the door.

You checked your security camera to see that it was him.

Him as in Jack.

You rolled your eyes and slowly walked to the door, swung it open and walked back to the couch without even acknowledging him.

Jack thought it was weird that you didn’t say anything to him and simply followed you to sit next to you.

It was quiet for a few minutes before either of you spoke and Jack was extremely nervous and didn’t want to be the one to break the silence.

“What do you want, Harlow?” You asked while not taking your eyes off the television.

“I.. I wanted to talk to you about what happened.”

“So, it took you weeks to do that?”

“No… well… I didn’t mean for it to take this long. I just didn’t know what to say.”

“Didn’t know what to say? You literally put my thong in your back pocket, ate me out, and rearranged my guts in a studio bathroom and you have no clue what to say to me?”

“Look, I like you Y/N, I like you a lot and I’ve been afraid to admit it outloud. How I treated you was unacceptable and I want to apologize for it. I admit that because of what I heard about you, I already had this idea in my head about who you were as a person and that wasn’t right. I didn’t even give you a chance and I was judging you. You’ve been nothing but amazing to me this entire time as you helped me to do this album despite how I treated you. You’re a sweetheart who also takes her job seriously and I love that about you.”

“I just never understood why you hated me so much.” You said while finally turning to look at him.

“I didn’t hate you!”

“But you didn’t particularly like me either or trust me and you told me that yourself.”

“Um, well….”

“Just drop it, Jack. Your album is just about finished. We can go our separate ways and act as if this never happened.”

“But what if I don’t want for us to go our separate ways?” He asked while taking your smaller hand in his. 

“What are you even saying?”

“That I want to take you out on a proper date which doesn’t end up with me fucking you in a bathroom.”

“But who says that I didn’t want you fucking me in the bathroom?” You curiously asked before smiling at him.

“Let me at least buy you dinner first.”

“It’s a deal and I’m going to need my thong back.”

“No you don’t. I’m definitely keeping it.”

Liked by yourinstagramname, urbanwyatt, estgee, neelamthadhani, brysontiller, 2forwoyne, and 5,739,042 others

jackharlow: Jackman. Out everywhere.

urbanwyatt: album art by yours truly

yourinstagramname: so incredibly proud of you. I knew you could do it. just didn't expect to see titties on your album cover

jackharlowsource: is anyone else foaming at the mouth at this pic or is it just me

jackharlow: yourinstagramname you've seen me in less, don't act up

jackharlowsource: OH 👀👀👀

neelamthadhani: thankful that he finally took my advice and let Y/N work on the album with him

urbandjack24: jackharlowsource nope. count me in too. we finally got a shirtless pic.

yourinstagramname: jackharlow okay so... I forgot what you looked like with less. I think I need a redo.

jackharlowsource: lmaooo no she didn't

urbanwyatt: jackharlow finally asked y/n out so I can stop getting facetime calls about how much he likes at her at 2 am

jackharlow: urbanwyatt now I'll call you to simp over her and yourinstagramname when you want that redo? because I got all night

Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, saweetie, dojacat, estgeem brysontiller, lolabrooke, and 1,099,487 others

yourinstagramname: face you make when your baby hits number 1 on apple music. well deserved jackharlow. proud of you. 💕

jackharlow: couldn't have done it without you mamas. thank you.

neelamthadhani: you two hated each other and now look. can't keep your hands off each other For two minutes

yourinstagramname: jackharlow you know I'd do anything for you and neelamthadhani what's your point?

urbanwyatt: I think the fuel to jackharlow confessing his feelings to her was that I said that I was going to ask her out if he didn't

yourinstagramname: urbanwyatt it still took him another month

urbanwyatt: yourinstagramname and to think we would've been amazing together

jackharlow: urbanwyatt HEY! CUT THE SHIT!

urbanwyatt: jackharlow if she decides to drop you, the bro code does not exist in this situation

jackharlowsource: lmaooooo not urban trying to get at y/n 😭😭😭

jackharlow: urbanwyatt and I thought we were brothers

neelamthadhani: idk why you two are fighting over her, when we all know that the only person that she'll leave for jackharlow is me

yourinstagramname: neelamthadhani you and me forever. we should get matching tattoos to symbolize our love.

jackharlow: yourinstagramname wait until later

yourinstagramname: jackharlow me and neelam are going on a date. raincheck?

jackharlow: yourinstagramname BABE, STOP PLAYING AND LET ME IN

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#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow angst #jack harlow smut #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfiction

[tomicaleto]

how about “who the hell did this to you?” for obikin?

Hi Nixie! Thank you for sending this prompt, I'm sorry it took me so long to answer!

hurt meme

So lately it feels like I'm always saying I'm having trouble writing or coming up with ways to fill prompts I'm sent and this is no exception lol.

This needs a bit of context: so I somehow have fallen in a Ben 10 frenzy, I been watching breakdown videos and having a lot of nostalgia. So this is a Ben 10 AU of sorts. The original series had Ben and his cousin Gwen at 10 years old, in one episode we meet Kevin, an 11 years old that becomes a villain that occasionally shows up. Then we get the Alien Force series where Gwen and Ben are uhh 15/16 and we get a sort of redeemed Kevin at 16/17. Gwen and Kevin have a thing, it's great and I shipped them so much.

So basically this AU is set in a kind of Alien Force setting. Ahsoka, only mentioned here, is Ben, in the sense that she has the omnitrix, but is still a Togruta. Obi-Wan and Anakin fill Gwen and Kevin's role. Anakin is kinda a redeemed villain (like Kevin) but has Gwen's power set (he's an energy being called anodite) while Obi-Wan is like Gwen (in the sense that he's not a former villain and his Jedi backstory which I haven't thought about yet ties him with Ahsoka) but he has Kevin's powers (he can absorb energy and matter)

That's a very lengthy introduction but otherwise this may not make much sense.

Oh! Also, Anakin and Obi-Wan are kinda established but it's complicated

“Who the hell did this to you?”

Obi-Wan checked his watch, only five minutes left of the class. His students were finishing taking notes so he cleared his throat to grab their attention. “If there are any questions left, this is the time to ask them.” 

As he finished speaking, three different hands got up in the air and he pointed at the nearest one. “Yes, professor, we’ve mentioned that Plato’s allegory of the sun was later…” 

By the time he finally reached the doors of the university, he was dreading his walk back home, the often peaceful time tainted by his tired body. He would have to talk with Ahsoka about patrolling so late in the night, he was not a young man anymore. But he was pleasantly surprised when he looked up and found Anakin’s car waiting for him at the entrance, as students stared at the yellow details Anakin had painted on it. 

His steps now eager, he approached the car and leaned down, forearm on the driver’s door, and smirked. Anakin’s tinted window began going down and he was ready to open the conversation with a teasing remark when he saw Anakin’s torn clothes and black eye. The words dried in his mouth and his whole expression shifted into a serious one. 

“Before you say anything,” Anakin said, most likely having figured out Obi-Wan’s burning concern, “get into the car, I’ll tell you on the way and I don’t want to make a scene.” 

Of course he didn’t, Anakin, despite being quite unsubtle when expressing his emotions more often than not, was still extremely private. He didn’t like Obi-Wan’s students whispering as they stared, nevermind that Obi-Wan knew that half of the time they were gossiping about the ‘handsome man that kept visiting professor Kenobi’ or that Anakin was around the same age as them. 

So he simply nodded and circled around the car, getting into his designated passenger seat and buckling his seatbelt. Anakin started the car then, and pulled away from the university building with ease. 

They stayed quiet around three seconds before Obi-Wan turned towards Anakin and hissed: “Who the hell did this to you?” 

“Let’s just say I found doctor Vindi.”

“Did he attack you? Why didn’t you call me or Ahsoka?” He asked, torn between worry and anger. Anakin could be proud at times, but Obi-Wan had thought their little team had grown on him. 

“Ahsoka is at class, she wouldn’t have picked up and I didn’t want to interrupt your students either, I know they have an exam soon.” It was touching that Anakin paid Obi-Wan enough attention to remember when he was planning to quiz his students. But still. “And before you say that this was worth interrupting your class, let me say that I wasn’t exactly looking up the dude, alright, I kinda came across him accidentally and I wasn’t prepared.” 

Obi-Wan’s frown –when had he begun frowning?– eased a bit and it made Anakin's shoulders relax. “Even then, it’s quite strange for you to get surprised like that, were you low on energy? Did your spells fail or something? Should we be worried about your mana or your anodite form?” 

Anakin snorted and immediately stopped, one of his hands leaving the wheel to grab at his ribs. “My powers are fine.” He stubbornly said. “It’s just… there were plenty of civilians, alright? I had to multitask.” 

It made sense. But Obi-Wan still worried. “Let’s go to my place so I can put some ice on that eye and check that your ribs aren’t broken. You’ll call Ahsoka and we’ll plan there.” 

Anakin sent him a side-eyed look. “As you wish.” He answered softly.

#obikin #Anakin Skywalker #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Star Wars #SW #The Clone Wars #TCW #ROTS #Revenge of the Sith #Prequel trilogy #Star Wars AU #Ben 10 AU #Tomi's fics #asks #nixie-deangel #Ask Game #Hurt meme ask game

[gchoate17]

I watched 33 seasons of television shows in 2022, edging out my previous personal best count from 2020. Most were on Netflix or Amazon Prime Video. I ranked those seasons and made a few comments about them, should you care to know what influenced the season’s place on the list. Rewatched seasons are marked with an asterisk. Previous years' rankings are linked at the bottom.

The Great: Season 1 -- The first episode is a necessary, albeit somewhat unenjoyable acclimation period because the characters speak in what initially seems like gratuitous vulgarities on behalf of the show’s writers. But by the end of the second episode, it all clicks. Pure brilliance. (I thought my introduction to Nicholas Hoult was in “True History of the Kelly Gang,” in which he plays a terrible character I didn’t like. And then I saw him in “Sand Castle,” which is a war movie that may have forgotten to hire a military consultant – and Hoult has an iffy American accent. Based on those characters walking in, I didn’t like him in this show at first. But the moment I realized he was Marcus Brewer in About a Boy, everything shifted and I became a huge fan of his acting ability/character in this show.)

Keep Sweet: Season 1 -- An inside look at the fundamentalist sect of the Church of Latter Day Saints, lead by Warren Jeffs. I have a soft spot for cult studies.

Black Mirror: Season 4 -- The best season. All parents should watch Arkangel, and Hang the DJ stuck with me. Crocodile feels like it’s right around the corner.

Black Mirror: Season 1 -- A what-would-you-do episode, a comment-on-society episode, and an episode where life has become what my documentarian heart has always dreamed about. Fascinating.

Black Mirror: Season 2 -- White Bear is my favorite episode so far. That CGI Bear episode is one of my least favorites. I’m impressed that they’re still coming up with such interesting concepts two seasons in.

The Great: Season 2 -- At times it reaches too far, but Fanning and Hoult are fantastic.

Better Call Saul: Season 2 -- I’m hooked. They’ve got me pulling for the character who makes bad decision after bad decision.

Better Call Saul: Season 3 -- I’m more interested in Nacho and Mike than I am Jimmy and Kim at this point. I’m ready for Jimmy to stop making bad decisions.

Dead to Me: Season 1 -- Quirky and fun and funny. Reeks of Will Farrell’s humor, even though he’s just the executive producer.

*Seinfeld: Season 4 -- About midway through the season, the actors come into their characters in the way that we know them. Kramer is the best.

Better Call Saul: Season 1 -- I wasn’t a huge fan of Breaking Bad, and Saul was one of my least-favorite characters, but I never took him as seriously as I am taking him in his own show. Invested in both storylines. I also want to rewatch BB.

Better Call Saul: Season 4 -- I don’t understand Jimmy and Kim relationship. We’re getting closer to Breaking Bad timeline and I’m eager to come full circle.

*Seinfeld: Season 5 -- They’ve gotten a budget and some of the reputation-based jokes are starting to land – the best jokes are ones where the character doesn’t act, but we know what he/she wants to do/say – but there are still some entire episodes that fall flat. They’ve figured out their formula and any “gun” that’s introduced at all will predictably be fired before the credits roll.

The Last Kingdom: Season 5 -- The show has run its course. These characters have lived five lifetimes.

Alone: Season 8 -- This is my first season to watch and I didn’t want to like it, but I was too invested in Biko to stop watching.

*Seinfeld: Season 3 -- It’s almost like their trying to milk jokes from character reputation alone, but they still haven’t built a reputation. Except for Kramer, of course, who is still solid.

*Seinfeld: Season 2 -- “The Deal” (S2, E9) is the first good episode of the series. Kramer is still the highlight.

Maniac: Season 1 -- Interesting vibe/tone. Justin Theroux’s character makes the show worth watching.

Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt: Season 1 -- For network TV sitcom, it’s a pretty good show. Lots of good one-liners in the style of “30 Rock.” But the ridiculous nature and lack of depth of such shows grows tiresome after 13 episodes.

Black Mirror: Season 3 -- The weakest season so far.

Ozark: Season 4A -- Classic final season situation where the writers are caught in between stretching things out for another season while also trying to tie up all the plot lines. Things got ridiculous. Julia Garner was fantastic, though.

Inventing Anna: Season 1 -- Interesting story, poorly told. Julia Garner was fantastic, though.

Black Mirror: Season 5 -- I accidentally started with Season 5 – not that it matters that much since the episodes don’t build on one another. I appreciated that these three episodes were different than anything I’d ever seen, but they also kind of felt like b-movies. (One of those b-movies with inexplicable starpower.)

Dahmer: Season 1 -- Started out great, but the intrigue wore off after the first couple of episodes.

*Seinfeld: Season 1 -- Dated. They’re trying to find themselves. Kramer is still evolving, but he’s good from the get-go.

Ozark: Season 4b -- Too much.

Dead to Me: Season 2 -- It went a little off the rails.

Uncoupled: Season 1 -- Neil Patrick Harris always delights – and I appreciate having a fuller picture of gay sex -- but I was eager to be finished with this one.

A League of the Own: Season 1 -- The desire to show viewers how gay everyone is seems to have surpassed the desire to tell a good story.

This is Us: Season 1 -- Network TV predictability and saccharine as hell.

Murderville: Season 1 -- I could watch people break character all day, but there were a lot of dry spells throughout.

Russian Doll: Season 2 -- This is not the same show as Season 1 (which finished 3rd of 32 in 2020). So disappointing. I never felt like anyone was in control of the story.

Yellowstone: Season 3 -- SPOILER ALERT: How in God’s name do the Dutton’s not have better security? And does the federal government just not give a damn about all the murdering happening in Montana? Teeter is the most unrealistic character I can think of that has made it beyond the cutting room floor of any show – that accent is awful. And not a chance Walker gets on stage at a bar so close to the Yellowstone.

See previous lists here: 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017.

#tv shows #tv #the great #best tv shows of 2022 #television #netflix #amazon prime video #Youtube

[erensrag]

bimbo!reader x judgmental nerd eren

eren x y/n (wc: 3173)

warnings: nswf, slut shaming, slight dubious consent

i don’t think i did this correctly….

"no please, take your time. it's not like we've been here for hours." eren's sharp voice brings you out of your thoughts.

his piercing gaze is right there to meet yours when you finally stop staring at the wall. you chew on your pencil, quickly diverting your attention to the paper in front of you. you've done your best to avoid looking at him the majority of the time you've been here.

it's not your fault you can't look into his eyes for longer than a second. he's the one who's always observing you with that cold, calculating stare. you've been on the end of judgmental looks and not so quiet whispers for years now and have learned to not let them bother you—well you thought you mastered the art of simply ignoring those kinds of people. until eren.

you didn't even know he existed until a few weeks ago. the introduction for you two consisted of a simple bumping into each other in the crowded hallways of school, it ended with him bitterly muttering something about idiot cheerleaders as he stumbled away. not even sparing you a second glance. after that, you saw him often and he made his dislike for you evidently clear.

which makes no sense. how can someone not like you?

it's usually jealous girls giving you the stink eye and making up the ridiculous rumors. they're the ones who don't want to associate themselves with you. not nerdy nobodies who can't walk without stumbling over their own two feet. no, people like him usually worship the ground you walk on. or at least drool a little.

seriously you've tried everything to get rid of that menacing stare and frigid tone he always greets you with. it's like he's immune. "jesus y/n, how dumb are you?"

and they definitely don't talk to you like that. you know you're not the brightest, which is why your teacher got this jerk of a nerd to tutor you right before exam week but is that really an excuse for him to treat you like this? biting the inside of your cheek, you nudge a corner of your sweater until your left shoulder is exposed. leaning forward and batting your eyelashes which gets no response from him other than a blank stare. "i'm not dumb. i just don't get it." you pout. "can't you just tell me the answer? we've spent like thirty minutes on this question."

"thirty minutes cause you're an idiot." he mutters more to himself.

"i'm trying my best!"

"you should've learned this months ago. you would've if you didn't spend your time skipping class to hang out with your pig muscle boyfriend."

"he's not my boyfriend..." you go back to chewing on the pencil.

"so you just make out with any guy behind the bleachers?"

"you seem to know a lot about me." you look at him again, that stupid cold stare looking back at you through those glasses.

"who doesn't. you're y/n. the whole school knows of your...activities."

"those are just rumors." some of them are. most are true. you enjoy living life to the fullest. it's not your fault the people in your school saw a confident, attractive woman and instantly decided to put less than appealing labels on her. "and besides they're none of your business."

"whatever. just solve this, this is taking longer than our usual sessions and my mom will be home soon."

you groan, looking down at the textbooks and not understanding a single word. “please just tell me the answers.” you ask one last time, desperate.

“no.”

you huff, returning your attention to the book. “you’re going to age badly with all that scowling you do. just so you know.”

“shut up.”

"eren..." you say after five minutes which causes a frustrated sigh to leave his lips. "do you have an issue with me?" it's been four sessions of the frigid tension he always puts between you two and there's a lot more to come before graduation so you just want to get whatever problems he has with you out of the way.

it takes a few seconds before he's looking up from the textbook, pushing his glasses up as he sends you probably the most intimidating glare you've seen from him. "excuse me?" the very tone of his voice has goosebumps forming on your skin but you force yourself to stand your ground. you're not going to let some loser who's probably never even kissed someone to look down on you.

"you— you just seem to—"

"i don't have an issue with you y/n." he slams the book on the table causing you to jump. "having an issue with someone like you would imply i care enough and trust me i'll never care for such a ditzy little slut who doesn't respect herself."

you've been called worse than that and usually by scorned boys you hooked up with. but they were popular gym rats, not some overconfident lanky freak. you had a snarky reply on the tip of your tongue but with the cogs in your brain suddenly malfunctioning, you could only stutter out a pathetic, "i—i'm none of those things!"

"really?" he scoffs, actually getting up and walking over and as he does you think maybe it would've been a safer option to just keep your mouth shut. "wide doe eyes without nothing behind them. check." he starts. "plump lips perfect for what you do best. check." and the asshole has the nerve to slowly swipe his fingers across your bottom lip.

you should stand up, tell him to go to hell and get out of here but you're frozen. limbs not moving an inch as he continues, "empty little head. check. skimpy outfits to attract attention. check. i mean let's face the facts.."

you never would've thought the loser that always sits in the back of the class with his nose buried deep in a book would speak like this to you. it's insulting. freaking degrading. he knows nothing about you and yet he has that expression on his face like he does. "if i'm such a ditzy little slut as you so nicely put then i'd be jumping at the chance to hook up with you but here we are." you seethe.

that seems to finally strike a nerve as he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. you cut him off before he can defend himself.

"is that it...you're angry i haven't made a move on you because that's what sluts do isn't it? bone everything they see? is your pride wounded that i don't see you in that way, eren?" you let out a mirthless laugh. "well news flash, pretty girls like me don't go for freaks like you."

you got up, ready to grab your things and run out all while trying to ignore the nerves inside of you. he just stands there, rigid and glaring. "really?" he asks once your books are back in your bag.

"y—yes. now if you'll excuse me—" your wrist is being grabbed before you can take another step and for a second both of you are stunned, you mostly frozen in your spot because this creep has the audacity to touch you after everything he just said. you don't know what his excuse is but he only stands there like a shocked puppy before pushing you on the desk.

a gasp escapes your lips at being manhandled by him  of all people, what the fuck is he doing? you're on your stomach, feet on the ground as the fucker puts a hand on your back, keeping you there. "w-what are you doing?" you pant out, bewildered at everything that just happened.

"i..." he trails off, not saying anything before manhandling you again. only this time it's for you to lay on your back and fuck, you could fight back. he's surprisingly strong for such a lanky freak but you're a cheerleader who does complex moves out on the field almost every day. you could kick him off, slam that big textbook in his face to the point his nose breaks and run out, making sure to report him.

but you don't. it's not that you can't. for some reason, you just don't want to. maybe it's curiosity, to see what exactly he plans on doing. to see if a loser like him actually has the balls to do anything but back away and apologize profusely.

"you're not fighting back." he simply says, sounding a bit confused as he comes to lean over your body. his hands on either side of your head as he stares down, those stupid piercing eyes staring down at you. "why?"

"shouldn't i be the one asking the questions here? like why the fuck you have me on this desk?"

he raises an eyebrow, leaning back and grabbing your thighs causing you to squeal in surprise. he spreads them, raising the dress you’re wearing until it's pooling at your stomach before you can even blink.

shit. what's wrong with him?

what's wrong with you? you should be kicking at him, you could easily shove him off. you could do it in a blink of an eye so why the hell aren't you.

where there's supposed to be fear...there's only anticipation. "you really are a slut." he laughs cruelly, pulling your panties down until they're completely off. where he throws them, you don't know. probably in some corner to hide so you forget about them, who knows what a pervert like him would do with it?

"you barely know me and yet...look at this." you shudder as his finger circles your clit before swiping across your cunt, bringing his hand up to show you your slick as if for emphasis.

"shut up." you grit through your teeth. "you're—" you don't have time to finish your insult before he's kneeling down, tongue immediately latching onto your clit.

your nails instantly scrape against the desk, shuddering as he begins to suckle on your clit. his tongue delves into you, fingers digging into your thighs on purpose as if the freak wants to hurt you. you can play that game too if he wants, fingers going to grab at the strands of his dark hair, pulling as you ground your hips against his annoyingly experienced tongue.

usually, your sexual partners don't willingly choose to eat you out but here is he. practically eager to get to business. he acted so high and mighty and still has the gall to continue doing so yet he's the one on his knees right now. freaking nerds are so easy. even overly judgmental ones with sharp gazes.

he’s basically lapping at you, moving from sucking your clit to eagerly drinking up your juices. never coming up for air as if he was made to simply do this. "f—fuck." you didn't want to make any noises, any implications that what he's doing is actually making you feel good but dammit it's hard when a tongue is diving deep into your most sensitive parts.

a particular bite has you instantly bringing your legs together but he quickly grabs them, forcing them apart to shove his face in between your thighs again. your breath catches in your throat as he licks up your dripping pussy. he doesn’t relent even once and the moans won’t stop escaping your lips, “sl—slow down. gonna…dammit.”

his tongue licks…freaking everywhere. the obscene noises causing you to hang your head back, he’s licking and sucking everything up as if it’s his favorite meal.

and it’s embarrassing. how fast you come. but how can not you? you mercilessly pull at his hair and shamelessly moan when you do. somehow you're the sweating and panting one as he stands up. "so that's what all the hype is about?" he tsk, seemingly bored.

it takes a few seconds for you to find the breath to say “don't act like you didn't enjoy that, with the way you were eagerly—”

"shut up." he takes his glasses off, putting them to the side before grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer to him.

"you're disgusting, you know? the nerve you have—"

"i spent the last two hours teaching you simple biology and somehow you couldn't do one question by yourself, if i'm testy that's all on you.

"it's not my fault." it comes out as a whine and you hate it, you were supposed to be insulting him. at least have some pride when you're about to be fucked by the guy who looks at you like you're nothing but a dirty piece of gum.

"shut up, for crying out loud. shut up." his voice is raspy as he unbuckles the belt to his revolting khakis.

you can't help as your eyes widen once his cock is in view. for such a nerd, he's actually packing. one hand holds your hips as the other guides his dick towards your leaking area and slight panic starts to take over. "a-aren't you gonna prep?" as orgasmic as that oral job was, you doubt just that will be enough to prepare you for that.

he grins, probably the first smile you've ever seen on his annoyingly handsome face. "don't worry, i'm sure a slut like you has a loose enough cunt."

"you little shit! that's—" your words get caught in your throat, back arching as he moves his hips forward, piercing inside of you. "fuck."

a broken sound leaves your lips as he continues to push his length in. it doesn't hurt like you expected it to but there's still a strong ache that you know will leave you limping tomorrow morning. it burns, burns so good you have to squeeze your eyes shut. you need something to hold onto as he starts to move, anything to give you some sort of balance but the flat surface underneath you offers no help. "ngh...eren..." you're not sure what you want to say but he doesn't give you time to think of something before he sets a rhythm.

it's surprisingly slow at first, like he wants you to feel every vein on his cock and you do. your walls desperately clench around him as you bite on your bottom lip, the room suddenly feeling too hot as his fingers grab your chin, forcing you to look at him. into that stupid gaze he won't stop staring at you with. his mouth is slightly open but no sound comes out. he's perfectly collected and you hate it. people like him should be cumming the second you touch them but he's...it's annoying.

his pace starts to speed up—he doesn't even give it another second before he's ramming inside of you. holding your hips with both hands as he sets a brutal pace that has you moving up and down the desk. "p-pretty decent for a nerd—ah!"

still, he stays silent. ugh, what's wrong with him? you bring your arm up to your mouth, muffling the moans spilling out of your lips in spite but his hands are immediately pulling them off. he chuckles, coming close enough that his breath fans against your face and a lewd moan comes out of you as he hits an even deeper spot. "don't do that, we all know this is what you want. to be fucked hard and fast to the point you're nothing but a mindless whore whose only purpose is to scream in pleasure."

you don't respond, biting down hard on your lips. his thrusts became more aggressive as he scoffs, "fine." his hand finds its way to your throat, squeezing slightly.

you suck in a shuddering breath just as his hold tightens, bordering on dangerous but for some reason the lack of air only makes your pussy throb, clenching tight around him. why does it feel good? why does everything he's doing to you only make you want more? his thrusts have now gotten erratic, almost forcing your body off the desk but the hold on your hips and throat keep you right where you are. you want to let out the moan clawing out from inside your throat but his grip stays, merciless as he pounds into you.

you don't know how much of this you can take, everything feels too hot. it's too much. "fuck look at you, didn't think you could look even more dumb." he pants, staring down. he finally removes his hand from your throat and you cry out the second he does.

"eren, please i'm—fuck...too much, it's too much." you gasp even though a sick part of you knows you could do this all night.

but right now...with the way his voice is dripping with cockiness— you hate it, hate the way he looks at you and talks to you. it's infuriating and too much. a tsk comes out of his mouth, "who knew you had a limit?" he rolls his eyes and in the next second, he's spilling inside of you. spilling and spilling until some drip on the floor.

like he's been holding himself back all this time.

fuck. he could've at least let you release a second time. you didn't think the asshole would be finishing right after you said that. you're panting, eyes staring at the white ceiling as he pulls out. he zips up his stupid ugly looking khakis as he steps back. "can you get off my desk now?"

the nerve of him...ugh. you slowly sit up, dress sticking to your skin due to the sweat and you have to refrain from asking to use his shower before leaving.

he gets you your bag and you slowly take it, throat aching and dry. there'll definitely be bruises around your throat and hips tomorrow and you're sure he's secretly delighted at that fact. "uh...." you trail off.

this is usually the part where they ask for your number, pleading for a second night with that desperate look in their eyes but he doesn't even send you another glance as he gathers up the papers on the desk, putting them into a binder. "make sure to study before sleeping tonight...if your body can handle that." his lips slightly curve up at that last part but he's not bragging, no just mocking you.

"o...okay." you lick your dry lips, suddenly needing a mint. "uh...bye?" you stand up too fast, cursing at yourself for it but his arm is around your hips before you can fall.

you bite the inside of your cheek, the proximity too close even though he was just inside of you a minute ago. he sighs, "do you need a ride home?" he asks grudgingly.

and you should say no. you don't need to be in an enclosed space with this asswipe for another second. just say no and walk into class the next day, demanding for another tutor. and then you'll never have to talk to him ever again.

but instead a weak nod comes out.

#eren x y/n #eren x you #eren x reader #attack on titan fic #eren jeager x reader #eren smut #eren yeager #eren jaeger

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-One

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: as someone who is physically incapable of reading fics and other long tumblr posts line by line and word for word, i think it’s so fucking cool that a bunch of you regularly, excitedly read what i post. i would not blame you at all for skim reading. thank you.

***

The majority of Cassian’s life was spent battling with the fact of his own existence. First he was fatherless, then motherless, then homeless. Being taken in by Rhys’s parents, who bought him nice clothes and nicer gifts, was like putting a bandaid over a stab wound. It couldn’t change the questions that made up Cassian at his core: was he equal to everyone else in this world, or had he been born inherently inferior? Did he deserve the same happinesses that his friends so carelessly reaped, or should he step back and know his place?

The older he grew, the more he grappled with those questions—until the night he learned who his father was, and the truth behind his existence. That he was likely a product of rape. Nearly driving himself drunk off a mountainside in Monte Carlo was enough to make him realize with a startling clarity: he couldn’t keep asking himself the same questions for the rest of his life. At some point, he was going to have to buck the fuck up and make his peace with the world, whether he believed he deserved to be in it or not. And though it might have taken him a while to reach that conclusion, Cassian can proudly say he did it. Not long into his post-college years, Cassian finally grew up.

By twenty-seven, he was secure enough in himself and his place in the world to not have to deal with those doubtful voices every waking minute. His life was figured out, and his ego was unshakeable. Until Nesta Archeron entered the story.

Now at twenty-eight, Cassian is again unsecured—this time in a less tragic but more confusing way. Because everything he thinks he knows about himself, about life, she insists on proving wrong.

Including the issue of celebrating his birthday.

“I feel like I should have asked this earlier,” Cassian mutters to Nesta as they stand in the cozy resort lobby, “but why is Az here?”

Nesta looks both humiliated and resigned when she mutters back, “He wouldn’t pay for the resort unless I let him come with us.”

“At that point you should’ve just let me pay, babe.” He watches Azriel’s back as he chats up the lady at the front desk while getting their room keys.

“On your own birthday? It would have ruined the point,” Nesta says.

Cassian doesn’t retort that having his brother present at their couple’s retreat also ruins the point. He’s sure she already knows.

Nesta’s reaction when Cassian told her that he didn’t celebrate his birthday was unforgettable.

“No one in our inner circle really cares about birthdays,” he had shrugged. “Feyre’s birthday is the exception because she’s sort of the outsider, and Rhys will find any excuse to worship at her feet. But the rest of us? I don’t know, it was never a big deal.”

As someone who’s never skipped a birthday once in her life, even when she was isolated and ignoring her family’s phone calls, Nesta took this as a personal offense. “I need to get you out of this cabin,” she stated.

Which brings them here, to Colorado’s finest ski resort situated high in the Rocky Mountains. The lobby is littered with overstuffed armchairs and a crackling fireplace, and huge windows look out over the blinding white mountains.

Az starts heading their way, key cards in hand, when Cassian suddenly turns to Nesta. “We need to find him a woman,” he whispers.

“What?”

“We can’t let him third wheel with us for the whole weekend. We’ll never get time alone.” Cassian is set on this new plan, already scanning the lobby for women around Azriel’s age.

“I agree, but—”

Azriel reaches the two of them, tossing a room card to Nesta. “You can stop talking about me now. I’ll be spending most of my time hitting the slopes.”

Cassian and Nesta mumble a halfhearted, “We weren’t talking about you.”

He narrows his eyes at them. “Uh-huh. Just remember whose credit card this is going on.” Picking up his ski gear and duffel bag, he turns for the elevator.

Nesta frowns up at Cassian once Az is gone, more adorably than she probably intends. “Do you think he’s upset?”

He scoffs. “We should be upset at him.” He doesn’t want to have to worry about his brother while he’s on vacation, and Az definitely wouldn’t want him to worry either, but it isn’t something that can be helped.

Despite his irritation, he might go skiing with Az later this afternoon. Just to keep him company.

***

Nesta will give it to Azriel—he’s a man of fine taste, and also generous with his spending. She originally wanted a normal room for her and Cassian, preferably the cheapest one, but Az went behind her back and upgraded them to a fully decked out penthouse suite.

“This is too much for just a weekend,” she tells him over the phone while Cassian is in the bathroom. “How am I supposed to pay you back for this?”

“Why would you pay me back?” he says dismissively. “I’m rich.”

When Nesta tries arguing with him, he only replies, “I don’t take money from poor people,” and hangs up on her.

Which leaves Nesta to enjoy the four-spray shower and heated bathroom tiles free of charge. By the time she comes out of the shower, Cassian has already left with Azriel to hit some slopes before dinner, though not before leaving her a note promising to teach her how to ski tomorrow.

Nesta doesn’t even get to unwrap her towel from her body before realizing her phone is ringing incessantly, all the way from the other side of the suite. Jogging over to the living area, Nesta answers Emerie’s call. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Emerie greets without introduction.

“At the ski lodge?” Nesta answers, confused. “I already told you, for Cassian’s birthday.”

“I know that,” Emerie hisses. “I mean what room are you in? This place is huge.”

“Wait—you’re here?” Nesta looks quickly around herself, as if Emerie will pop up from behind the couch.

“Not just me. So is Gwyn.” Nesta hears rustling on the other side of the line, and then Emerie saying from a distance, “Answer for your crimes, Gwyneth. Say hi.”

A new, clearer voice comes over the phone. “Hiii, Nesta.” Gwyn sounds weak, like she is not having fun at all.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” Nesta demands.

“Well, it’s a long story and I need to see you first. Also, I have to pee. Where is your room?”

Five minutes later, Gwyn and Emerie are sitting obediently before the roaring fireplace in Nesta and Cassian’s suite.

Now fully dressed, Nesta stabs a finger at Emerie. “Explain.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Emerie says indignantly. “Gwyn barged into my place at eight in the morning and dragged me all the way here—”

“It was an emergency!” Gwyn tosses her hands in the air. “It still is an emergency. That’s why we’re here.”

“I’m here because Gwyn is scared of traveling alone,” Emerie interjects. “And driving on highways.”

“Guys!” Nesta snaps.

Gwyn makes a whining sound of defeat and drops her head into her hands. After a long moment, she speaks. “He asked if we could go to dinner together. Like, right to my face. And I panicked and said yes, because I couldn’t think of a reason to say no, but obviously I can’t do that. So this morning I cashed in my sick days and told him I was going on vacation for a whole week.” Gwyn looks up at Nesta with pleading teal eyes. “Please can we stay here the whole week?”

Nesta stares at Gwyn, feeling like her brain was just sucked dry. “First of all, who’s ‘he’?”

“Max!” She stands in her outburst. “The love of my life. The man who works on the fourth floor of the library. Do you pay attention to the groupchat at all?”

Oh yeah, that guy. “You came all the way here,” Nesta drawls out slowly, “so you wouldn’t have to have dinner with your crush?”

“It wasn’t just any dinner.” Gwyn flops back onto the couch. “It was a date. I can’t go on a date with him. First dates lead to second dates, and second dates lead to—sex.” She whispers the last word.

“Really?” Emerie frowns, not missing a beat at the mention of Gwyn’s deepest fear. “What kind of dates have you been having?”

“I haven’t been having any dates,” Gwyn says. “Why, how long do you usually see someone before doing it?”

“First date, at most,” Emerie shrugs.

“No,” Nesta steps in, sending Emerie a bewildered look. “Gwyn, you’ve known this guy for a while now. If he’s half as decent as you think he is, he won’t expect sex by the second date. And even if he does—”

“What does it matter?” Gwyn wails. “It’ll come up eventually. And when it does, he’ll think I’m a freak.”

“He won’t get a chance to think anything before I kill him,” Emerie says, eyes darkening.

Nesta says nothing, knowing this is something she can’t advise Gwyn about. Whether or not Gwyn chooses to share her past and unresolved trauma with another man, and whether or not that man reacts in an unshitty way isn’t something Nesta can determine. So she just states for the record, “You’re not a freak.”

“But it’s what he’ll think.”

“Then you shouldn’t be with him in the first place,” Nesta says firmly. Even though she knows better than anyone that it isn’t always that simple.

Proving her point, Gwyn scoffs and looks away. “You don’t get it.”

“What I really don’t get,” Nesta says, “is why you took your lie so literally. Why did you come all the way out here instead of hiding out at home for the week?”

“Merrill sees and knows everything. I can’t lie to her.” Gwyn cringes. “If I stayed at home, she would sniff me out as soon as she got me on the phone, and then I’d really be screwed.”

Nesta cocks her head at Gwyn, squinting her eyes in something akin to fascination.

“I had the same reaction,” Emerie pipes up. She shakes her head at Gwyn. “I’ve never met a more melodramatic idiot, truly.”

Gwyn curls into herself on the couch, looking ashamed.

Nesta sighs sharply, then whips out a hand. “Give me your wallets. I’ll go downstairs right now and see if I can book a room last minute.”

Emerie sits up at that. “Uh… I’m not sure I can afford a place like this.”

“Neither can I,” Nesta says. “That’s why Azriel paid for all of us.”

Gwyn’s eyes go comically round. “Azriel’s here?”

“Unfortunately.” She snaps her fingers at both girls. “Credit or debit, now.”

“So… I’m assuming we can’t just share this huge suite with you guys, huh?” Gwyn says hesitantly.

There might be actual flames in Nesta’s eyes. This is Cassian’s birthday, goddammit. Cassian, who hasn’t celebrated a birthday since he was eleven. “Please don’t push me.”

Gwyn and Emerie, very reluctantly, hand their cards over to Nesta. Emerie hands over two, just in case.

In the end, Nesta doesn’t use any of their money, but charges the new room to her own account. She’ll work it off by putting extra hours into Night Court, she tells herself.

When she returns to the penthouse suite, she spies tracks outlined in melted snow at the doorway. Shit. She barges inside to find Cassian and Azriel standing in the middle of the living area, with Emerie looking awkward on the couch.

“Uh, we just got back—” Cassian starts.

“I can explain,” Nesta interrupts.

A faucet turns off in the distance, and Gwyn peeks her head out of the bathroom door.

“Oh, shit,” Azriel says in delight. “Freckles is here too?”

Gwyn looks like she’s about to turn right back around to the bathroom. Nesta and Cassian both throw Az a baffled look, but Nesta says, “I can fix this. I’ve already fixed it.” She goes over to Emerie and hands her a key card. “You and Gwyn are going to stay on the first floor, and you won’t bother me or Cassian for the duration of our stay. It’ll be like you’re not even here.” She whips toward Gwyn, who still hovers near the bathroom doorway. “And at the end of this weekend, you’re going back to work like the adult you are and taking care of your shit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gwyn says quietly, lowering her head.

Cassian comes over to Nesta, whispering, “So, you didn’t invite them to keep Az company or anything, right?”

“I can hear you,” Azriel says.

“Of course not,” Nesta whispers back. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Really? Because I thought it was kind of convenient—”

“I can still hear you,” Az repeats.

“So can I,” Emerie nods.

“Shut up,” Nesta hisses at the both of them. Grabbing Cassian’s still-gloved hand, she drags him upstairs and away to their bedroom. When the door shuts behind them, she turns to him and blurts, “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian only laughs, taking his ski jacket off and brushing away the wet snow from the back. “I’m not.” He tosses his jacket and gloves over a chair and approaches Nesta, tugging her closer by her oversized turtleneck. “And what did I tell you about wasting your apologies?”

Nesta doesn’t care. “I ruined your birthday.”

“My birthday’s not until tomorrow,” he says with a straight face. “But honestly, I like this a lot more than just you, me, and Az. At least he can’t third wheel anymore, right?”

She shakes her head insistently, frustration boiling in her blood. “Everything’s going wrong.”

“But you solved our problems.” He finds Nesta’s clenched fists and unfurls them with gentle hands. “You got the girls their own room, and now Az can be distracted with those two. We can still be alone. We win.”

Nesta purses her lips, unconvinced, when Cassian adds, “But seriously, though—what the fuck are they doing here?”

She exhales deeply, letting her head drop forward onto Cassian’s chest. “I don’t know,” she mutters. “Gwyn panicked about some personal stuff and thought it was a good idea to come to me. I don’t want to make her leave, though.” Gwyn is being stupid right now, without a doubt, but Nesta won’t abandon her. Neither will Emerie.

God, having friends sucks.

Cassian threads a hand through her loose hair and hums. “Gwyn was smart for coming to you.”

***

Dinner is held outside in the snow and cold, but everyone bundles up and sits down at a table that surrounds one of the multiple fire pits in the courtyard. Cassian convinced Nesta to let Gwyn and Emerie hang out with them for the weekend, because what else are those poor girls supposed to do, and now the women babble over each other as they decide what to drink.

Cassian sits back and takes it in, the sight feeling heartwarmingly familiar and strangely brand new at the same time. Nesta ends up being the one to order everybody’s drinks, and once the waiter scampers back inside, Gwyn releases a terse breath. “Sometimes I still get scared of that tone.”

“I’m always scared of it,” Az mutters, eyeing Nesta from the corner of his eye.

“What tone?” Cassian laughs. He knows Nesta is still a little wound up from her plans going off the rails, but she hasn’t done anything scary.

“I’m used to it,” Emerie says through a mouthful of fries, “but I think that waiter almost cried.”

“That’s how I sound all the time.” Nesta shrugs, sitting back.

“What tone?” Cassian repeats.

Nesta clicks her tongue impatiently. “You know how I talk. I’m straightforward.”

“And harsh,” Azriel adds. “Even aggressive.”

“Watch it.” Gwyn turns stern eyes onto him over the fire pit.

“I have no idea what you all are talking about,” Cassian says. He turns to Nesta. “You sound perfectly normal to me.”

She narrows her perfect brows at him, and Emerie laughs, “I don’t know if that’s romantic or ignorant.”

But now that they’re discussing it, Cassian does distinctly remember Nesta having a sharp edge to her words while they were getting to know each other. Did it disappear over time, or has he really stopped noticing it?

He doesn’t get to think about it before their drinks arrive, followed soon by a dinner of fancy sandwiches.

Cassian cuts his beef sandwich in half and gives the other half to Nesta, and she does the same with her turkey sandwich. They eat and drink around the crackling fire, laughing and talking about tomorrow’s plans (“It’s not your birthday, Azriel,” Nesta says. “Stop asking about gifts.”). Cassian and Emerie talk idly about video games over wine, and even though it isn’t really his thing, he can see her excitement over it and gladly indulges it.

Once everyone is finished eating and is slightly drunk, Gwyn pulls a small sleeve of crackers out of her puffy jacket, followed by a fun-sized Hershey’s bar and a handful of mini marshmallows.

“What are you doing?” Nesta says.

“Making dessert.” Gwyn builds a mini s’more and places it carefully on her fork so she can toast it over the fire pit. When it’s done, she leans forward even more to try to put it on Nesta’s plate. “For you. Thank you for letting me and Emerie stay.”

Nesta jumps, catching the s’more with her plate and batting Gwyn away from the fire pit at the same time. “You’ll set your hair on fire,” she hisses.

Gwyn’s hair remains safe, but now Cassian catches his brother watching Gwyn amusedly from the corner of his eye. “Can I have one?” Az says.

“I’m all out.” Gwyn says while building another s’more, refusing to meet his eyes.

Cassian and Nesta share a look, a hundred words thrown back and forth between them in that glance. She scoots her chair closer to him to slip her cold hands into his warm ones, but while the conversation carries on around the table, she leans in and whispers, “I’m not a busybody but…”

“I am,” he whispers back. “Az is being weird, weirder than usual.”

Nesta nods. “I’ve never seen him so—outgoing.”

Neither has Cassian, but before he can mention anything else, he looks up to find that Gwyn and Azriel’s seats at the table are empty. “How much did those two drink?” he breathes.

Nesta follows his gaze, seeing what he’s seeing: Azriel and Gwyn wandering clumsily around the snowy courtyard. Or rather, Az is trying to chase Gwyn down for a s’more, while she clutches her mini marshmallows to her chest and vehemently yells, “They’re mine!”

Meanwhile, Emerie is half asleep at the table.

Cassian watches as Gwyn nears the towering fir tree at the center of the courtyard and slips. Az shoots out a hand to catch her, but not before her ass hits the stone, hard. He pulls her back up, no longer fooling around, and Gwyn rubs her butt in pain.

Cassian suddenly feels Nesta squeezing the life out of his hands, and he looks over to find fury written across her face. For a heartbeat, he feels worried for Az.

“Go deal with him,” Nesta says lowly. “Before I do.”

Not needing any more words to understand, he stands out of his seat and heads out into the courtyard. He doesn’t know why Nesta thinks Gwyn needs protecting, but it makes him feel protective himself. Approaching the duo, he sees that Azriel finally acquired the leftover s’more ingredients from Gwyn.

“There’s only like half a cracker left,” Az mutters to himself, shaking the baggie.

“Is he bothering you?” Cassian asks Gwyn, who still looks grumpy over losing their skirmish.

Whipping her head to Cassian like he’s her savior, Gwyn nods furiously. “Please make him stop.”

Cassian turns to Azriel with rage in his eyes, a clear What the fuck do you think you’re doing?

But Az shakes his head in denial. “It’s not like that. Look, she’s smirking at me!” He points over Cassian’s shoulder.

When Cassian looks, Gwyn is already walking back to the fire pit, holding her bruised ass.

Az starts, “What a fake little—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Cassian interrupts. “Yesterday you’re crying over Elain and today you’re flirting with Nesta’s friend?”

Azriel goes serious, his face turning colder than the night air. “How do you know about Elain?” he says gruffly.

“Everyone knows, Azriel.” Cassian stares down his brother, wondering if he’ll finally get him to get his head screwed on straight after these past weeks of secretive bullshit.

Azriel sets his jaw, but a muscle there ticks.

“Will you finally at least tell me what’s going on in your head?” Cassian pleads. “Because I can’t keep guessing.”

Azriel glances toward the dinner table, as if checking to see that no one is paying attention to them. Looking back, he inhales a breath. “You want to know why I left Velaris?”

Like Nesta, Azriel is not one to quickly make himself vulnerable. So there’s no blatant emotion in his voice when he says, “I started seeing her at the end of summer, not long after she broke up with her ex. And it was so…nice after every other relationship I’ve been in has gone wrong. We kept it quiet, and because of that, it was peaceful.” Azriel’s eyes meet Cassian’s twin ones, and he smirks without humor. “But you already know what that’s like, don’t you?”

He does. Cassian crosses his arms, waiting for Az to continue.

“Anyway, we had a good run. For a long time, it was mostly just sex, but I liked her. I liked her a lot.” Az kicks at the snow-dusted cobblestones. “Then Christmas came around, and Rhys found out.” His face darkens as he remembers, and Cassian stiffens, knowing what’s next isn’t good. Sometimes Rhys forgets the boundary between boss and brother.

“He didn’t say anything about it to Elain, of course,” Azriel says. “But he dragged my ass aside and gave me this huge lecture about us using each other as rebounds. Said ‘Feyre’s sister’ deserves better or some shit. I told him there was more to it than that, but he wouldn’t listen. Instead he brought Vanserra & Co. into it, like his business matters had anything to do with me and Elain.” Azriel’s eyes crinkle at the corners in a puzzled way. “So I got to thinking, ‘why would he bring the Vanserras up?’ He made it seem like such a big deal.” The toe of his boot digs a hole into the ground.

Sympathy churns alongside anger in Cassian’s chest for Azriel’s situation, anger at Rhysand for crossing that line between brothers. He’s only momentarily grateful that Rhys never tried doing something similar to him and Nesta.

“I thought she was over that other guy, Lucien,” Az continues. “But maybe she’s not, if Rhys is so concerned about what Lucien’s stepfather thinks. Anyway, that’s why I ran. Because I knew she liked me, but I also knew she didn’t love me. I didn’t want us to cause all that trouble with Rhys just to end up backed into a corner one day, having nowhere else to go because she loves someone else and I’m just a rebound. It would be awkward for everyone involved.” He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s mostly my fault, for always chasing after women I can’t have.” He finally looks up at Cassian. “When you talk to Elain, does it sound like she hates me?” The question is quiet, straightforward.

“No,” Cassian answers, voice rough. Even if Azriel wants to hide his feelings, Cassian won’t. “She doesn’t seem like she hates you. I don’t even think she’s mad at you.” Concerned, anxious, upset—that’s Elain as far as he knows.

“She should hate me,” Azriel says. “She should get pissed, burn my old clothes, and swear to never talk to me again. That’s the only way she can move on.” Maybe even move back to Lucien, is what goes unsaid.

Cassian isn’t so sure about that. Even as he feels for Az, he thinks both of his brothers should get slapped upside the head for how they’ve been acting lately. He won’t be the one to do it, but he might get Nesta to relay a message to Elain. It’ll be the same thing. “I’m sorry,” he tells Az instead. “I know I’ve been hard on you lately. When we get home, I’ll start doing better.” He claps Az on the shoulder and squeezes.

Azriel surprises him by scoffing, looking away in disbelief. “Wow, being compassionate is really a full time job for you, huh?” He claps Cassian’s shoulder back, pulling him into a sudden hug. “You’ve already done more than enough,” he says into Cassian’s ear. “Go to your girlfriend and take a rest.”

Taken aback, Cassian nods and pulls away. He’s about to turn around and leave when Az says, “By the way, I wasn’t flirting with Gwyn.”

Cassian raises a brow. “You were definitely doing something.”

Az rolls his eyes. “I’m not giving her anything she can’t handle. But in case you haven’t noticed, I have no interest in other women right now.” He makes a face. “Especially not her.”

Cassian chuckles. “I believe you. It’s Nesta you need to worry about.”

“Whatever. I’m not scared of her.”

That makes Cassian laugh even harder, but he turns around, ready to go back to said girlfriend. As he nears the fire pit, though, he finds that Gwyn is already there and cuddled up to Nesta. On Nesta’s other side, Emerie now sits in Cassian’s chair, asleep on her friend’s shoulder. He stops in his tracks.

Cassian wasn’t lying when he told Nesta that he was happy about their changed vacation plans—he believes the more the merrier, and he loves these people. Yet he can’t help but wish the two of them could be alone for just one day. Only one.

God, sometimes having friends sucks.

***

a/n: this is a two parter so next chapter we’ll finally be getting more nessian alone time

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland

#ncssianwrites #a favor #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #nessian fanfic #nessian au

[streetlight11]

Reunited Again

Summary: He was your neighbour, your best friend, he was your happiness ever since preschool. One day, he suddenly became distant and cold towards you for unknown reasons. Both of you slowly drifted apart. Years passed and you haven't seen him ever since you left your hometown to go to college. Who knew you'd see him again through your close friends from college 4 years after you moved. Would he remember you?

Theme: college au, childhood best friends to lovers

Genre: fluff

Warning: some curse words, that's it

WC: 3.9k

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Fem!Reader

a/n: Hello again! Here's a Wooyoung fic for you. Take care everyone :)

12 years ago was when his parents divorced after a horrible fight. His father took him in custody as he was only 10 years old at the time. After the divorce, his father turned into an alcoholic, a drug addict and was abusing him after dusk. He became his dad’s punching bag, this only made the boy even more stubborn and rebellious.

This also led him to the introduction of tattoos, gang fights, smoking, drinking, but never drugs. That was probably the one thing he despised and would never even go near one. That was the thing that drove him to insanity living in the house.

His dad was a drug addict and because of those drugs, he couldn’t grow up with the love of his own dad.

However, despite being in that state, only a few of them still stuck around him. And these guys were not even those who teaches him all the bad stuff while growing up. Instead, these guys were the friends he met since high school and college. Sure he didn’t have a bright past, sure he’s done things that were probably illegal and had a few police cases before, but these guys never looked down on him.

They encouraged him to work hard and chase after his dreams, and not to walk down the same path his dad did. And for that, he was thankful to have met them.

It has been 4 years since you last saw him. He was your neighbour and probably one of your best friends growing up. He lived just across the road from you. You still remembered when you first met him at preschool. Where he accidentally spilled his milk and so you went up to him and gave him yours.

From that day on, you two became like two peas in a pod. You loved him as a friend. You cared for him. You could never bear to see him cry over a stolen toy. You were always there for him. So when he suddenly turned cold and distant to you one day, you just couldn't accept it.

You wanted answers.

And not long after, you found out that his parents had divorced. His father became abusive and a drug addict so that’s why he kept his distance from you.

Because of that, you never blamed him for acting how he did back then. But that doesn’t mean you don’t miss the old him. Even now that it has been 4 years since you left your hometown to live in Seoul to go to college, you still prayed that some day, you’d bump into him again and everything would go back to the way it was.

It was a bright Saturday afternoon and you had promised your two best friends that you would meet them for brunch and just hang out with them. You decided to wear a white low cut cropped thin strap top, a black floral skater skirt and a beige knit cardigan. To finish the outfit off, you paired it with your black combat boots.

You met up with Seonghwa and Yeosang at the mall for brunch where they took you to an italian restaurant. After eating, Yeosang told you that he and Seonghwa wanted to introduce you to their close friends and that it was time for you to meet them.

“Are you sure about this? What if they don’t like me?” You asked, a little too self-conscious.

“They’ll love you! Besides, if anything, I’ll just threaten them to leave you alone.” Yeosang said with a shrug. You couldn’t help but scoff at his sarcasm. A few hours later, Seonghwa drove you to a well known street in Hongdae.

You sat in the front passenger seat as your eyes travelled all over the place.

Once Seonghwa was done parking the car, the three of you got out of the vehicle as he locked it. Yeosang immediately placed a hand on your back to guide you towards a tattoo parlour shop located just across the road from where you were. The bell chime caught everyone’s attention in the shop as the two boys standing behind the counter whipped their heads towards the door.

Their smiles immediately got wider when they saw Seonghwa and Yeosang. “Oh hey guys! You’re here!” The cute, smaller one said, only for the tall, handsome one to speak up.

“It’s about time you guys came. You’re late for your piercing appointment with me.” Yeosang laughed knowing the boy was directing his conversation to him.

“I know, I know. But the main reason we came here was to let you meet our friend we’ve been telling you guys about.” Yeosang said as he turned back to you, who was hiding behind Seonghwa.

Yeosang chuckled at your shy being, only to slide his hand around your waist and tugged you forwards gently. “Hyung, Yunho, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Hongjoong and Yunho.” Your eyes flickered to the two boys who smiled at you and waved.

“Hello! It’s nice to finally meet you.” Hongjoong said as he held his hand out for you to take. You gently shook it in return, causing the man to giggle.

“Is she always this shy?” Hongjoong asked his two friends, only for Seonghwa to speak up.

“She’s only shy around boys she finds cute. So I guess you’re one of them.” This made you slap his stomach with the back of your hand, making the poor boy groan. You glared at him, only for Yeosang to laugh out loud before prompting you a high five.

“The rest will be out a minute. You can have a look around if you don’t plan on getting any piercings or tattoos.” Yunho said with a smile before turning to Yeosang and his smile completely disappeared before it turned into a snarl.

“Now get your ass back there. You’re late for your appointment.” Yeosang could only smile cheekily before he followed Yunho round the back.

You began to walk around the parlour, admiring the tattoo designs on the wall while Seonghwa and Hongjoong were just chatting by the counter. You were too engrossed in the tattoo designs that you completely missed the way two males just left one of the back rooms. One was a client and one was a piercing artist by the name of San who was also their friend.

You also missed the way Seonghwa pointed to you as he told San about why he and Yeosang came here today, earning a small cheeky smirk from the younger boy. You were just staring at the beautiful mermaid design when someone’s hand on your back made you jump.

It was just Seonghwa.

“Y/N, come meet another friend of ours. This is San. He’s in-charge of the piercings.” The said boy extended his hand out to you, making you shake it politely before saying hello. He too was pretty cute. Unlike Hongjoong who had two full tattoo sleeves, San was pretty clean on the skin except one or two small tattoos on his neck and inner bicep.

However, his piercings were prominent. He had a number of them on each ear, along with an eyebrow piercing on the right side and a tongue piercing.

You thought Seonghwa and Yeosang were cute. You clearly haven't seen their friends.

Right after you had just let go of San’s hand, a voice coming closer and closer to the main area made you turn your head towards the back rooms. Only to see a buff man maybe in his late 20s leave the back room. However, the person who left after him was the reason why your heart almost leaped out of your chest.

You couldn’t help but stare at him as you felt yourself stumble back a step. Crashing into Seonghwa slightly.

You watched as he went round the back of the counter to toss the tray of equipment into the sink before turning to Hongjoong and telling him the amount to charge the man.

After the man had taken the change and left, that’s when San spoke up brightly. His energy was definitely not at your level.

“Oh yah! Seonghwa hyung and Yeosang finally brought their friend over to meet us!” The individual turned off the tap and grabbed a clean cloth from the counter, only to turn around. That’s when his eyes got locked on yours. He paused his movements for a split second before returning his gesture.

But the disappointment on your face didn’t go unnoticed by him when all he did was nod his head towards you and simply turned back to go to the back room.

“Sorry about him. He can be a little rough with new people. His name is Wooyoung by the way.” San said. You clearly recognized him. His name felt all too familiar on your tongue.

Why did he react that way? Did he really not recognize you? Is he the Wooyoung from your childhood?

All these questions began to flood your train of thoughts as Yeosang and Yunho came back out laughing at something the other said. Just then, Seonghwa gently snakes his arm around your waist only to whisper in your ear.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

You blinked away from the back room that Wooyoung just entered only to nod. But you knew Seonghwa well enough to know that he didn’t buy your bullshit, yet he decided not to question any further.

A few minutes later, two more boys came in only for you to find out that they were also friends with the boys and their names were Mingi and Jongho.

The 9 of you ended up hanging out at the parlour, while you managed to warm up to San, Hongjoong and Yunho almost immediately thanks to their outgoing characters. You were seated on the couch’s armrest with your legs crossed over the other politely to cover your private area when Yeosang asked if they wanted to go grab dinner after the shop closes in an hour's time.

They all agreed to it, only for a new customer to enter. San immediately got up to attend to them who wanted piercings.

You noticed his absence in the circle when you glanced over to the back room. The boys’ voices were completely muffled in your ears as you couldn’t tear your focus off the male standing in the back room alone, looking busy.

He was wearing a plain black muscle tank. His biceps in perfect display, his right arm sleeve decorated with the most prettiest tattoo designs, his ear piercings, the left eyebrow slit and a piercing. He was hot.

You didn’t know how long you were staring, until he turned his head and caught you. With that, you quickly turned your head away in hopes that he wouldn’t think you’re a creep.

After they closed up the shop, the 9 of you dispersed to your respective vehicles to meet up at the dinner spot. You watched him carefully as Wooyoung approached the sports bike that was parked a few cars down from Seonghwa’s car. You cursed at yourself internally for out rightly checking him out when in reality, you might just be a stranger to him.

Nevertheless, you went for dinner and you bonded with the rest of them pretty quickly. Minus Wooyoung of course. That night, Seonghwa added you to their group chat and immediately, they welcomed you warmly.

Days became months ever since the rest of them first met you. The boys have been including you to most of their hangouts even if it just consists of them chilling at the parlour. However, not much has changed between you and Wooyoung. You knew you couldn’t force him to remember you so you avoided that. And he knew he couldn’t just outrightly tell you the truth cause it's been years since he last properly talked to you.

So he feels slightly embarrassed to actually talk to you and get close to you again. Today was no different as you all hung out at the mall for the day. You wore a blue floral off shoulder dress that stops at your mid thighs. You paired your outfit with a white converse, and your hair left in a straight wavy look.

Seonghwa picked you up as usual, only to compliment you on your look.

You arrived at the mall a few minutes before some of them, with Yeosang, Hongjoong and San already there. You were just leaning against the wall in between Yeosang and San, only to rest your head on Yeosang’s arm.

You were just talking to Hongjoong when you heard Yeosang call out to some familiar names. You lifted your head off his arm, only to see the remaining four boys walking up to you.

That’s when you took notice of Wooyoung’s outfit. He wore a white shirt with a black leather jacket, a white denim skinny jeans and a pair of Nikes. Damn he looked good. You looked away before he felt uncomfortable, only to bury yourself against Yeosang’s side.

You ignored his teasing, saying you were just tired when he knew that wasn’t the truth. They walked around the mall for a bit when they stood on the escalator one after another.

You were standing a few steps above Wooyoung, just talking to Jongho when he noticed a group of young boys peeking under your dress’ skirt from three steps below. But both Jongho and you didn’t notice this. He climbed up the steps, walking past the boys only to quickly come up behind you and used his body to shield your dignity from them.

But what made you jump was when you felt someone snake an arm around your waist from behind. You whipped your head around, ready to curse but your eyes melted when you saw him.

“Relax. The boys behind me were peeking under your skirt so I blocked them for you.” Wooyoung said softly, making you glance past his shoulder to see a group of young boys looking fairly annoyed at Wooyoung.

With that being said, you looked back at Wooyoung only to smile softly and said, “Thank you.”

Wooyoung could feel his heart skip a beat as they arrived on the top floor. What you thought he would let go of your waist, you were proven wrong. Wooyoung kept his arm around your waist, keeping it there naturally and it surprised you.

What you did realize is the way he kept looking back so you decided to do the same. You saw the same boys trailing behind you and this made you slightly uncomfortable.

You looked at Wooyoung who was already staring at you. Just then, you noticed the inner corner of his lips curving up into a smile.

You mimicked his expression as he playfully bopped your nose with his own, making you giggle.

Neither of you realized where you were going until the rest of them stopped in front of a restaurant. That’s when Wooyoung finally pulled away from you and you immediately missed his touch. Since that day, you couldn’t forget the way he hugged your waist, protecting you from potential harassment.

That was enough to make your heart melt even more for him. All you needed to know now is if he really doesn’t remember you or if he’s just been pretending this whole time.

It has been a month since that incident at the mall. Although Jongho was the only one who saw the small interaction between you and Wooyoung, he wasn’t one to rat people out. With that being said, nobody else except Jongho actually saw Wooyoung holding you by your waist that day.

It was currently a Saturday late afternoon and the boys invited you to hangout at Chan’s shared apartment with San and Wooyoung.

Since you were from your girls day out with Jennie, Lisa and Yeri, you were wearing a white skater skirt with a baby blue bralette that acts as a crop top for you. Your outfit was definitely more on the explicit side but it was just the boys right? They wouldn’t mind? Would they?

You arrived at their doorstep, only to be greeted by San who immediately gave you a one over, “Woah…” San said under his breath, making you realise that maybe this outfit was a bit too much.

“My outfit’s too provocative isn’t it?” You asked, making the boy panic. “What?! No! No! You look pretty, Y/N. Even hot to be honest. It’s just… like you said, a little provocative but I love it! I think you look great.” San said as he hugged you and soon dragged you in.

Suddenly, you were too shy to enter the house filled with boys and he noticed this. San chuckled as he rested a hand on your back to guide you until you were met with those in the living room. Similarly to San, everyone’s eyes were now on you, more specifically your outfit. “Woah. Since when do you own these clothes?” Seonghwa asked, making her sigh.

“I only wear these kinds of things when I’m out with my girlfriends. And I was with them, I just got lazy to head home and change. But seeing how all of you reacted, I wouldn’t mind doing it.”

Right after you ended your speech, a series of rejections came your way and it honestly baffled you.

“I just asked you about your ownership of these clothes, I never said you looked ugly in them.” Seonghwa said with a teasing smirk on his face. You scoffed as you stole a cushion from behind Mingi only to toss it in Seonghwa’s face.

However, the conversation got cut off when the halted footsteps down the hallway caught everyone’s attention.

There Wooyoung stood, in his grey sweatpants and a plain black muscle tank. His ash grey hair cutely tousled on his head as he scanned your outfit from head to toe, suddenly feeling his throat get dry and his face get hot. Since when did his childhood neighbour get this hot?

The room fell silent until Wooyoung spoke up first to get you attention.

“You look… nice.”

His simple comment made your heart melt as you thanked him shyly before putting your purse down beside Yunho on the couch and soon excused yourself to go to the bathroom. Once you were inside, you locked the door and soon stared at yourself in the mirror. You totally don’t blame them for staring but why did you feel extra warm when Wooyoung stared at you?

Fuck, this is torture.

Meanwhile in the living room, the minute you were gone, Yeosang was the first one to whisper out loud. “In the past 4 years I’ve known her, I have never once seen her in anything like that. What is she so hot for?”

“She looked really pretty just now. But I feel bad that she looked slightly uncomfortable.” Mingi said, making Wooyoung glance at the hallway.

A few minutes later, you finally left the bathroom ready to join the others when a familiar voice called for you from down the hall. You turned around to see Wooyoung poking his head out his bedroom door. He gestured for you to come over and so you did. Once you were in front of his bedroom, he carefully pulled you in before closing the door behind him.

“Wooyoung? What are we doing here?” You asked as he walked over to his dresser, only to pull out an oversized sweater before coming back to you.

“Here, wear this. Even though the rest of us really liked your outfit and we think you look really pretty in it, we do notice you being uncomfortable wearing that around us.” The room fell quiet as you stared at the sweater in his hand before looking back up at him.

“Wooyoung-” He cut you off by gently placing the sweater in your hands, making you smile.

“Thank you.”

He smiled softly at you as he watched you put the sweater over your head. It definitely was a bit too big on you but you loved it. Especially since it had a strong scent of him. After you were done, you spoke up saying, “Let’s go.” However, before you could reach for the door handle, Wooyoung stops you by sliding an arm around your waist.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you turned around to face him. You thought he would say something but what happened next made your heart skip a beat.

Wooyoung simply pressed his lips on your softly, his eyes fluttered shut as he moved his lips against yours. You were quick to do the same, hands finding their way up his chest and around his neck. You felt him hug you, deepening the kiss when you opened your mouth for him. Wooyoung pulled away for a brief second only to kiss you again. It was a kiss that he had been longing for, and he was finally getting it.

He soon pulled away, heavy breaths mingled together as you pressed your foreheads against one another. The room fell silent, your fingertips tracing down his neck before you spoke up.

“You remember who I am, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then why… why did you act like you didn’t know me?” Wooyoung let out a soft sigh before he spoke up.

“I’m really sorry. I just thought you would have forgotten me since I treated you awfully since my dad became an addict… I’m so sorry Y/N.” Wooyoung whispered against your lips, making you cup his face.

“Shh, it’s okay… I forgive you.” You said as you kissed the tip of his nose, only for him to hug you. He buried his face in your neck, feeling him plant soft kisses onto your skin. You both stayed like that for a while, just embracing each other after all these years. You were the first to pull away, only to kiss him again.

“Promise me you’ll never leave me again.”

“I promise.”

You smiled as he pecked your lips and soon, both of you came back out to join the others. They asked you where you were, only for you to say you had a quick catch up session with Wooyoung. That stirred some confusion from them but they didn’t question any further. They also didn’t comment on the sweater that was now covering your body.

A few hours later, you were all playing a game of truth or dare as you sat in between Mingi and Wooyoung. The bottle stopped at you, making you choose dare over truth. “I dare you to kiss someone in this room right now.” You found yourself smirking as you shrugged your shoulders confidently.

“Easy.”

Without further ado, you didn’t even need to think as you turned to your left and kissed Wooyoung with a smile gracing over your lips. The gasps didn’t go unheard by you and Wooyoung but you couldn’t help but focus on your childhood neighbour.

Wooyoung reaches up to hold your face gently as the other hand snakes around your waist to pull you closer. After you pulled away with a soft giggle, Yeosang couldn’t help but ask out of curiosity, “Since when are you two close?”

“Actually, he was my childhood neighbour.” That’s when Hongjoong spoke up loudly in shock.

“She’s the one you’ve been telling me about?! I told you she would cross paths with you again and things would get better!” You turned to Wooyoung, only to see his ears turn red.

You found out that he had told Hongjoong everything about you and his friendship with you except for your name. You couldn’t help but laugh as Wooyoung hugged your side before kissing your cheek. This was such an endearing side of him, something you would never expect coming from a scary looking boy with two full sleeve tattoos.

Nevertheless, you were happy things got resolved between you and him.

~~~

#ateez scenarios #ateez wooyoung #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez wooyoung fluff #ateez wooyoung scenarios #atz wooyoung #atz x reader #atz wooyoung fluff #atz wooyoung scenarios

[blueskrugs]

Fallin' in Love (in the Middle of the Night) | Joel Farabee

or, as I said in a text to @nazdaddy a couple weeks ago: "hear me out. summer camp AU with beezer." I really miss summer camp and I feel like bee fits the vibes. I've been going to camp since I was 12 and a lot of this is based on that camp and the experiences I've had there. have fun reading!

tagging: @marcoscandellas @stlbluesbrat21 @dembenchboys @poltoncarayko @robthomissed @letmeplaytheblues @troubatrain @ayohockeycheck @blackwidowrising @aria253264 @antoineroussel @starswin @glassdanse @ch-ristiane @majdoline

length: 11k words

There was a new counselor at camp this year. His name was Joel, and no one knew much of anything about him. Most new counselors were freshly aged-out campers, or were dating a current counselor and got dragged along for the week. Joel was neither, and he’d been quiet and keeping to himself since he climbed out of his car and dumped his bags in Cabin 24 earlier that afternoon.

Avery found herself glancing over at Joel more than once while she caught up with some of her friends. He was hanging back from the clusters of other counselors, leaning against a tree and fucking around on his phone, though there was no way he was getting any reception all the way out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees. His baseball hat was on backwards, and his hair was sticking out in tufts from underneath it.

Avery’s co-counselor, Caroline, nudged her in the ribs and followed her gaze. “Think he’s cute?” she teased.

Avery scoffed, but she didn’t look away as some of the guy counselors pulled Joel into whatever dumb argument they were already having. “I’m not dealing with that shit this year,” she said. Every year without fail, there were camp crushes, and they never ended well.

“He’s in our age group,” Caroline told her, which Avery knew already. They’d all gotten the cabin assignments last week, and Avery had been wondering about the new guy since then. “You’ll get to know him, maybe change your mind,” Caroline said with a grin.

Avery rolled her eyes but didn’t get a chance to respond because the camp director was trying to get everyone’s attention so they could head up to the chapel for orientation. They went slowly, still chatting in groups and clusters, yelling out to each other as they made their way up the hill, past the dining hall and towards the chapel. Avery still found herself looking over at Joel as he ambled alongside the groups of counselors. He’s still quiet, though he’s obviously listening to the conversations around him, trying to catch up on years of history and inside jokes. He caught her eye as they duck through the double doors into the AC and sent her a grin.

Caroline might’ve been right about the cute thing.

The chapel on the campgrounds isn’t much of a chapel, and is more a big open room with some of the best wifi anywhere on the property. Somehow, Joel ended up sitting next to Avery in the circle of chairs set up in the middle of the room. He’d grabbed the orientation packet every counselor got and was flipping through it eagerly. Avery snorted softly, and she reached out with her foot to nudge Joel in the shin.

“Don’t worry, dude, it’s all common sense stuff,” she told him. Even the other new counselors, the ones who had just aged out of being campers, didn’t look concerned, though being at camp for a few years was definitely more than enough to know how to basically run the camp.

Joel looked up at her and grinned again. “Yeah, I’m getting that,” he said. “I don’t think I got your name earlier,” he added.

Avery was wearing a sticker with her name scrawled on it like everyone else, but she refrained from rolling her eyes. Barely. “It’s Avery,” she whispered as Austin, the camp director, stood in the middle of the circle.

“Who’s ready for some icebreakers?” he said, way too loud for the small space. Everyone groaned, and Caroline and Avery shared a look from across the circle. “Don’t be like that, we have some new faces, and it’s been a while since everyone’s seen each other,” Austin said.

By Avery’s count, Joel was the only counselor who was truly new, but there was no stopping Austin once he was in Camp Mode.

Two and a half hours later, after they’d painstakingly gone through every page of the counselor’s manual, they finally broke for dinner.

“Is it always like that?” Joel asked as they trooped back down the hill to the dining hall.

Caroline and Avery groaned again. Joel sent them an amused look.

“Every fucking year,” Avery told him.

“I think I have the manual memorized,” Caroline added.

Joel laughed. “Something to look forward to next year then,” he said.

Avery raised her eyebrows. “The kids haven’t even shown up yet. Don’t get ahead of yourself, you might change your mind before the week is over.”

He wouldn’t really, probably, but a week of yelling kids, walking several miles in the August heat, and shitty food definitely had the potential to drive the weak of heart away. It wouldn’t be the first time, and if they did scare Joel off, it wouldn’t be the last. Joel sat across from Caroline and Avery for dinner.

“Eat up, bud,” Avery told him, watching as Joel pushed food around on his plate. “This is the best food you’ll get all week.”

Camp food was notorious for being barely edible on a good day, but because the counselors got in for orientation on a day in-between camp sessions, the kitchen staff was able to make them an actual meal. It still wasn’t the greatest food, but at least it hadn’t been made in bulk and left to sit under heat lamps.

Joel sighed, but reached for the serving bowl next to him for seconds.

Campers arrived in two buses on Sunday afternoon, but first came breakfast and way too much downtime for the counselors. Austin always said it was good for “bonding,” even though most of the counselors had known each other since they were kids.

“How did you end up here anyway?” Avery asked Joel, who was sitting across the table from her again. He’d told her and Caroline at dinner the night before that he was from upstate New York, which was decidedly not anywhere near their little campground in the Midwest wilderness.

“Thought it would be fun,” Joel said around a mouthful of eggs.

Avery never did eat those powdered eggs they served that were a sorry excuse for fresh scrambled eggs. “Please don’t talk with your mouth full, gross,” she told him.

Joel just winked at her.

The counselors lounged around at the lakefront until it was time for the buses to start showing up. Avery caught Joel’s eye at one point in the chaos of unloading kids and their bags and directing them to the right cabins, and she laughed at the look of overwhelmed terror on his face.

The madness of the first day always made it pass quickly. Before Avery knew it, it was after dinner and everyone was trooping down to the fire ring for the opening night campfire. Avery watched as Joel’s campers clustered around him as they walked.

“Who is that?” one of her girls asked. Avery tore her eyes away.

“New counselor, Joel. He’s got our age group, I’m sure you’ll get to know him,” Avery told her. She just hoped they liked him once they got to know him.

Avery ended up sitting on a log with her campers, right behind Joel and the boys. She stared at the back of his hat while she zoned out, half-listening to the same welcome speech Austin gave every year. His backpack was unzipped.

Avery reached down and absently picked up one of the wood chips by her feet. She ran her thumb over it, still pretending to pay attention to whatever Austin was saying. One of her campers next to her caught on to her idea and snickered.

Avery tossed the wood chip in her hand into Joel’s backpack. It landed with a quiet clang as it hit a can of sunscreen, but Joel paid it no mind.

“How many before he notices, do you think?” she whispered.

“Only one way to find out,” Kate whispered back.

Avery picked up another wood chip. In the next five minutes before Austin called all the counselors down for introductions, she landed a little over a dozen more wood chips in his backpack, including one that bounced off of his back and in.

“Backpack’s unzipped,” she told him as she carefully stepped passed him, hitting the bottom of the backpack.

“Thanks, hey, what the f-“ Joel caught himself. He glared at Avery as he zipped up his backpack.

Avery laughed and went next to Caroline in the line of counselors.

It wasn’t a campfire without s’mores, and they broke out the marshmallows as the sun went down. The oldest campers were always in charge of the campfires and s’more assembly, so Avery was catching up with some of her former campers on the logs near the fire. Joel plopped down on the log next to her, one leg stretched out on either side, s’more in hand.

“Want one?” he asked, holding it in Avery’s face. His fingers were sticky with melted marshmallow.

Avery pushed his hand away. “Pass.”

Joel looked personally offended. “What kind of person doesn’t like s’mores?” he asked. Now he had melted chocolate on his upper lip. Avery was carefully not looking.

“This one,” she said. Joel reached out and tugged on her braid. “Ow, what the hell?”

“Just making sure you’re a person and not, like, a robot or something,” he said. Avery just rolled her eyes.

They found out the next morning that they were letting the boy cabins and girl cabins of the same age group sit together this year for meals. Somehow, it was actually less chaotic than if they were separated. Which is how, once again, Joel ended up across the table from Avery at breakfast. She had accepted her fate. He smiled at her, looking far too awake for so early in the morning.

“Hey! Beezer!” one of the boys yelled from the other end of the table. It sounded like Cameron, Avery thought.

“What?” Joel yelled back.

“Beezer?” Avery asked, because what the hell.

“Hang on.” Joel banged his knee on the table as he went to go talk to his boys.

“Beezer?” Avery repeated when he came back, still rubbing his knee.

“From my last name, Farabee,” he explained. “They said Joel is a weird name, so I said they could call me Bee or Beezer.”

“Yeah, because Beezer is so normal,” Avery muttered. Joel kicked her under the table.

It rained Monday afternoon. It was one of those late summer thunderstorms that blew up fast and didn’t really last very long, but it rained hard enough and long enough that all activities after lunch were cancelled. Which meant they were all trapped in their cabins with their campers.

Some of the girls were doing who-knows-what in their bunks, while most of the boys had elected to stay in their cabin with Sam. Joel had followed Avery and Caroline, though, and was now lounging in the common area with them and a handful of their campers.

“I’m bored,” Joel said. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Caroline threw a Goldfish at his head. “Ow,” he said, watching as it bounced to the floor. “Hey, I could’ve eaten that,” he whined. Caroline threw another Goldfish at him, but this time he caught it and popped it in his mouth triumphantly.

“Does anyone have a deck of cards?” Caroline asked.

“Spoons?” Avery asked, getting up to dig her cards out of her bag.

“I have markers!” one of their girls yelled, dashing off to her bunk.

Joel was sitting up again and looking more interested when Avery came back and sat back next to him. She tossed the deck to Caroline to shuffle.

His hat was crooked, and Avery absently straightened it as Joel asked, “How do you play spoons?"

Caroline gasped. “How have you never played spoons before?”

Joel shrugged as he watched the bag of markers get dumped over the table in front of him.

“It’s like musical chairs, but with cards and spoons,” Avery explained. “Alright, how many are playing?”

“That explains literally nothing,” Joel said. “I’m in.”

Avery carefully counted out six markers and laid them out on the table. Caroline started dealing cards to everyone. Joel poked Avery in the arm; she ignored him.

“You’re gonna get four cards,” Avery started explaining. “The goal is to get four of the same number, four queens, four sixes, whatever. Carol is dealer, she’ll keep sending cards around one at a time. If you see a card you want, keep it, and pick a different card from your hand and pass it on instead. First person to four of a kind grabs a marker, the person who can’t get a marker is out, and then there’s one less marker in the next round.”

Joel blinked at her a couple times. “I think I’m still confused.”

Avery laughed and patted him on the leg. “You’ll figure it out,” she told him, picking up her cards.

Joel did figure it out, but only after he was too slow in the scramble for a marker in the first round and got stuck watching for a while.

“I want back in,” he complained. He poked Avery in the back with his foot where she had moved to the floor in front of him. “You’re too fast.”

Avery reached behind her to smack his hand away. “Years of practice, bud. And you’ll get back in when this game’s over.”

Joel stuck his tongue out at Avery, but only Caroline saw it.

By the time the rain let up a little over an hour later, Avery had nearly elbowed a camper in the face fighting Joel for a marker (which she won), Joel threw a marker across the room so Caroline couldn’t get it (and was automatically disqualified), and no less than three fights had broken out.

Basically, they’d had a great time. They still kicked Joel out to go back and deal with his own campers for a while, though, on the grounds of infringing on their territory.

On Monday night, Avery was standing outside her cabin, trying to make sure her flashlight actually worked when Joel came over to her.

“What’re you up to?” he asked.

Avery clicked her flashlight off. “What’re you up to?” she countered.

“Stealing extra snacks from the staff cabin,” he said easily. “You didn’t answer me.”

Avery smiled at him. He was still wearing his baseball hat, turned around the right way now, even though it was well past dark. “I was gonna go for a walk around the campgrounds,” she told him. “Carol’s in with our kids, and I usually go out for a while before bed.”

“By yourself?”

Avery almost laughed at how worried Joel looked. “Bee, I know every inch of this campground, I’ve been coming here since I was a kid.” And then before she could think better of it: “You could come with me if you want.”

Joel’s face lit up. “For real?” Avery did laugh at his face this time.

“Yes, for real. Just let me get a hoodie.” It was still summer, but nights on the lake got chilly.

“Here, just take mine, I won’t need it,” Joel said quickly. He tossed her the hoodie he’d been wearing at dinner.

It was big on her, and warm, though it no longer carried any of his body heat. It smelled like bonfire smoke and whatever deodorant Joel wore. When he turned to head back to the main path, Avery tucked her nose into the collar and took a deep breath.

“Alright, where the fuck are we going,” Joel asked when Avery caught up to him.

Avery shrugged, though she wasn’t sure how well Joel could see it in the dark. She said, “I don’t know, we usually just wander around for a while.

“We?”

Avery usually went on night walks with one of the guy counselors she was friends with, Alex, but he wasn’t there this summer. “You don’t know him,” Avery said.

Joel huffed. “So what, am I just the other guy?” he asked.

Avery laughed. “Something like that. Ooh, there’s a paintball course on the back corner of the grounds, if I can remember how to get there,” she said, already turning so she could head in the right direction. Maybe.

“Oh, lit!”

Avery could not, in fact, remember how to get to the paintball course. They’d made it partially there before Joel got freaked out because he was convinced he’d heard something in the woods behind them. Avery telling him it was probably just a raccoon did not help.

So, they ended up turning around and heading towards the front end of the campgrounds. There was a vacation lodge on that side of the lake, which had never quite made sense to Avery. She could see some of their lights glistening on the black lake. It was a clear night, and there was no one else around, which meant stargazing. Well, after Avery convinced Joel they weren’t trespassing by laying on the tennis courts.

“Do you know anything about stars?” Joel asked. He didn’t look over at Avery, still gazing up at the sky.

Avery snorted softly. “Nah, I just think they’re pretty. You can’t see stars like this in the city.” There were still some lights scattered around the campgrounds, but it was nothing compared to the light pollution of a city. “Our old camp director used to tell us one of those myths about how the stars were created, but I don’t think I remember enough of it to repeat it.” He also used to scare the kids with ghost stories, but Joel didn’t really need to hear about how the campgrounds were haunted just yet.

“Great story,” he said. Avery smacked him on the stomach. “Ow! Hey, be nice to me, or I’ll leave you out here.”

He wouldn’t, and they both knew that.

“Hey,” Joel said suddenly, pointing straight upward. “Is that Orion?”

“Isn’t Orion a winter constellation?” Avery asked. She had no idea where Joel was pointing.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

They mostly laid in silence, just watching the stars and enjoying the closeness and the quiet. Avery always missed hearing the frogs at night when she wasn’t at camp. The black night sky stretched endlessly above them, dotted with stars. Avery would live under these stars if she could. It was getting late, though, and they still had to be up bright and early the next day, so when Avery caught Joel yawning for the third time in as many minutes, she sat up.

“Time for bed?” Joel pouted up at her. “I know the mattresses here aren’t comfortable, but I promise it’ll be better than sleeping on a tennis court,” she told him. It had only been one day of actual camp, and she could already feel some aches settling in. “C’mon, Beezer.”

Avery stood up and stretched before offering Joel a hand up. He groaned as she pulled him to his feet. They made their way back to the cabins together, still in comfortable silence, Avery still wearing Joel’s hoodie.

Joel was carefully peeling a banana when Avery and her campers made it into breakfast Tuesday morning. His hat was facing the right way for once. She dropped her backpack on the bench and groaned.

“What took you guys so long?” he asked. Almost all of the other cabins had made it to the dining hall already. He moved Avery’s bag onto the ground at his feet. “C’mon, sit, food’s coming out soon.”

“Ava lost one of her shoes, and we all had to look for it,” she told him. Joel snorted. Avery tapped the bill of his cap, shoved it down lower over his eyes. “No hats at meals,” she told him.

Joel rolled his eyes, but he took the hat off and ran his fingers through his hair. “Or what?”

“Or it goes on the moose,” Avery said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at the taxidermied moose head that hung over the door.

Joel gave her a look, like he definitely didn’t believe her. He’d learn.

When Avery got back to the table from the bathroom before lunch later that day, there was a baseball hat hanging from the moose’s antlers. Joel was hatless and disgruntled-looking.

“Told you,” Avery said, swiping a potato chip from his plate.

She took pity on him later and fished his hat down with the broom handle.

Swim time down at the lakefront had always been Avery’s favorite parts of summer camp. In the middle of all of the craziness of the week, the lake was always peaceful and calm. Avery could take out a paddleboard or a kayak and just float, away from yelling kids, losing track of time in the glassy blue surface of the lake. She’d spend a whole day out there if they would let her.

She had snagged a paddleboard and had made it out to the middle of the lake. She was chatting with a couple of her campers when Joel approached on a kayak. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Hi, Beezer!” the girls in the canoe chorused. Avery grinned at him.

Sam came up on Avery’s other side on another paddleboard. He floated up until he bumped into Avery’s board. She wobbled, but didn’t fall over. “Oops,” Sam said.

Avery pushed Sam’s board away with her paddle. His balance wasn’t as good, and he toppled over. “Oops,” Avery echoed. Sam flipped her off where he thought the girls couldn’t see.

It was warm in the sun, and Avery leaned on her paddle, tilting her face up to the sun. Joel poked her leg with his kayak paddle. When Avery glanced back at him, his cheeks and nose were red from the sun.

“Are you wearing any sunscreen?” Avery asked him.

Joel shrugged. “Nah.”

Avery tsked at him. Sam had made it back up onto his paddleboard.

“Hey, Aves,” he said. “Water feels nice, you should try it.” He was holding his paddle a little like a spear.

They weren’t allowed to swim out in the open water of the lake where all the kayaks were, but they could get away with it if they “fell” in, which is how the counselors usually ended up spending most of their time on the lake trying to knock each other into the water. Avery knew where this was going.

Avery paddled backwards once, trying to get out of Sam’s reach, but she bumped into Joel’s kayak instead.

“Oh, no.”

Joel’s grin turned a little wicked. Avery didn’t have time to brace herself before Joel was shoving her paddleboard, and it went out from under her. She heard everyone laughing as she hit the water with a splash. She came back up, pushing her wet hair out of her face, and hooked her arms over her board. She glared at Joel.

“Rude,” she told him.

Joel shrugged. “Thought you looked hot,” he said.

The water did feel great, actually, though Avery was loath to admit it to either of the boys. Avery sighed and heaved herself back into her board, but she didn’t stand back up, instead sitting with her legs hanging in the water on either side. The girls in the canoe were still giggling, so Avery used her paddle to splash them.

“Hey, come on, they’re innocent!” Joel protested. Avery splashed him next.

Tuesday night meant all-camp kickball on the lower fields.

Avery had never been one for making a fool of herself in team sports, so she was lounging on a blanket in the grass with Caroline and a couple of the counselors for the older girls, safe from any stray flying kickballs. Avery was just debating digging through her backpack to reapply bug spray when Joel made his way over to them.

His hat was perched backwards on his head like always, and he was squinting into the setting sun as it dipped below the treeline. His forehead had gotten sunburnt from being out on the lake earlier. “We’re getting a counselors game goin’. You girls in?” he asked, but Avery had a feeling it was directed more at her than the other three.

She raised an eyebrow up at him and absently swatted at a mosquito on Caroline’s leg. “I don’t do sports,” she told him.

Joel’s face fell. Avery hadn’t even realized how earnest he’d looked. Someone on the other end of the field called his name, and he glanced over his shoulder. “You sure? It’ll be fun,” he tried.

Avery had grown up with most of the other counselors, knew firsthand just how competitive they all were. Fun, maybe, but also intense and way too serious for summer camp kickball.

“I’ll pass,” Avery said.

“Your loss,” Joel tossed back over his shoulder as he jogged away again.

Caroline was smirking. Avery half-heartedly smacked her on the arm. “He definitely has a crush on you,” she said.

“Does he think he’s being subtle?” Meg chimed in from the other side of the blanket, not looking up from the friendship bracelet she was making.

Avery flopped backwards onto the blanket with a groan.

Avery was still on her back, dozing off while listening to the sounds of yelling kids filling the humid air, when Caroline reached over and poked her in the ribs.

“Your boy is up to bat,” she said.

Meg snorted as Avery sat up and leaned back on her elbows to watch. “He’s not ‘my boy,’” Avery grumbled. Then, “Is it still called an at-bat in kickball?” She burst out laughing as Caroline rolled her eyes.

Joel was indeed up next, and Avery watched as Joel kicked the ball and sent it sailing over Drew and Sam’s heads. He easily headed to second base, but the grass was still wet from the rain on Monday, and he wiped out as he stepped on the rubber base. All four girls on the blanket burst out laughing. Joel was still sitting in the grass, looking somewhat disinclined to move.

“You really looked like you were having fun out there,” Avery said to him later, as they all walked back up to the cabins in the dark. “That wipeout was great entertainment for us, too.”

Joel took a step to the side so he could bump into Avery, but reached out to steady her when she lost her balance. “Whatever,” he said. “That really hurt, actually.”

Avery just laughed.

Joel showed up late to lunch on Wednesday with a giant bandage covering his knee and dried blood down his leg.

“What did you do to yourself?” Avery asked as he dropped into the empty spot next to her and reached for the nearest plate of food.

He still had ash streaked across his cheek from firebuilding that morning, when he’d bet Avery that he could build a fire faster than her. (He’d won, but only barely, and because he’d used a battery instead of flint, like they were supposed to.)

Joel didn’t pause in piling food on his plate. “Jackson left his water bottle down at archery, so I went back down to get it for him, and when I was running back up the hill, I slipped on some loose gravel and fell. I think there might be some gravel in my knee now,” he said. Some of the kids at the table laughed.

“You’re a mess,” Avery told him with a sigh.

They were back down the hill towards archery after lunch on Wednesday to hang out in the Nature Center for the afternoon.

“Alright, please fill me in on what we’re doing today,” Joel asked, falling into step next to Avery.

One of Joel’s campers turned around to walk backwards in front of them. “We get to play with snakes!” he said. His name was Jack, Avery was pretty sure, who was very different from Jackson. It all got a little confusing after a while.

“Cool!” Joel said.

Avery rolled her eyes. She poked Joel in the ribs. “You would get excited about that.” He flinched away and pouted at her. It wasn’t that Avery hated the Nature Center, but the animals were the same every year, and you can only get excited about them so many times.

“What? Snakes are cool,” Joel defended.

“Boys,” Avery sighed, walking faster so she could be next to Caroline instead.

Disdain in front of Joel aside, it was fun to get to chill in the AC and hang out with the animals for a while. There was a little milk snake that loved to chill out in people’s hands named Dudley that all the counselors were weirdly fond of. Plus, they got to play around with the ferret they had, which was always highly entertaining.

Joel was just as excited as the kids, which Avery had to admit was kind of cute. He bounced around and looked eagerly into various cages with the kids. Avery and Caroline watched from a couple of the chairs in the corner, content to just hang out until the snakes came out.

“D’you think I’d get in trouble if I put him in Joel’s hood?” Avery mused, idly watching Dudley calmly wind his way around her wrist. Joel’s back was to her, and he was wearing a hoodie despite it being nearly 100 degrees outside.

Caroline giggled. “That’s mean.”

Dudley was making his way back towards Avery’s hand now. “He did say he wanted to hold him,” she said. And with that, Avery took a step forward and carefully deposited Dudley in Joel’s hood, where he promptly curled back up to sleep.

“What are you doing?” Joel asked.

“Just fixing your hood,” Avery said innocently, patting him on the shoulder and taking another step forward and pretending to read the info card of the cage they were standing in front of.

“Avery.” Avery glanced over at Joel. His arms were crossed, but he looked like he was fighting back a smile. “Why is my hood moving.” It wasn’t phrased much like a question.

Avery bit back a smile of her own. “Is it?” Dudley’s head popped out of the hood just then, slithering up onto Joel’s shoulder a little bit. He startled, then shot Avery a dirty look. Avery couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re actually the worst, why.” Dudley continued to make his way across Joel’s shoulder, happy to explore. “Help,” Joel whined, “I don’t think I can reach him, and I don’t wanna drop him.”

“Hold still,” she said, carefully reaching to grab Dudley back out. “Here, he likes to be held.”

Joel obediently held his hands out to take Dudley from Avery. “Hey, take my picture will you?”

Even if Avery never spoke to Joel again after this summer, she was definitely going to keep the picture she took of Joel grinning at the camera with a snake in his hands.

They were walking past the dam later when one of the boys stopped short. Joel, not paying any attention, bumped into him.

“Hey, Avery,” Jack said.

“Hey, Jack,” Avery said back.

“Can we go check out the cemetery?”

Avery shuddered. “Absolutely not.” She wondered who had told the boys about it.

Joel looked at Avery, wide-eyed. “There’s a cemetery here?”

“Yes, and we’re not going back there,” she told him. Several of the boys groaned, put-out. Joel still looked a little nervous, so Avery added, “These grounds used to be privately owned. The cemetery is hidden behind the dam, most people don’t even know about it.” That last part was directed more at their nosy campers.

They had started walking again. Up ahead, one of the campers yelled, “Wait, does that mean no one’s told Beezer that the campgrounds are haunted?”

“They’re what?”

Avery was not too proud to admit that she hated the barn dance a little bit. It was fun for a little while, but after about twenty minutes, it just became hot and dusty. Avery had never been good at following along with the steps they tried to teach, and it was a lot more fumbling and embarrassment than it was worth.

This year she made it through the Cha Cha Slide– which they normally didn’t play until the very end– before she dipped and left the barn to go sit back on the blanket with Meg and Caroline. They spent most of their time just laughing at their friends as they struggled to keep up with music. Avery had only been sitting out for ten minutes when Joel emerged from the crowd and made his way towards them.

“Scoot,” he said, carefully sitting next to Avery. Meg raised her eyebrows at Avery behind Joel’s back.

“Not one for dancing?” Avery asked him.

Joel stuck his tongue out at her. “You’re one to talk, you’ve been sitting over here forever.” Avery stuck her tongue out back.

“Real mature, you two,” Caroline muttered from next to them.

“Hey, wait, actually,” Joel said, reaching out to tug on Avery’s arm. He pulled her closer to him, until she was situated between his legs, leaning back against his chest. He draped his arms across her shoulders and rested his chin on the top of Avery’s head. “That’s better.”

“You’re so weird,” Avery said, but she relaxed into his hold. She rested her hands on his and settled back in to watch the semi-organized chaos of the barn dance going on in front of them.

Thursday morning found Joel hunched over a Styrofoam cup of coffee with his glasses on and hoodie pulled up over his head.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” Avery said, sitting across from him and swiping his coffee for a sip.

“Hey,” Joel whined, “I need that.”

Avery snorted and handed him his coffee back. “Why are you so tired, anyway?” Avery had gone back to the cabin after barn dance and passed out herself.

Joel made a noise in the back of his throat. “We couldn’t get the boys to shut up and settle down last night.” Said boys were at the other end of the table, looking about as tired as Joel, actually.

“Y’all better wake up down there,” Avery called. “We’ve got Alpine today.” “What the hell is the Alpine Tower, anyway?” Joel asked. “No one will tell me.”

The Alpine Tower was hard to describe, and it was better to experience for the first time if you didn’t know what you were getting into, so Avery just said, “You’ll see.”

Joel groaned and put his head down on the table.

After breakfast, Joel was by Avery’s side, as was becoming typical, as they started the trek towards Alpine Tower. He’d woken up considerably as his coffee hit. “How far is it anyway?” he asked.

“Far,” everyone else chorused. Joel looked taken aback.

“You should know by now that nothing here is ever a short walk,” Avery told him. The shortest walk on the grounds was probably from the cabins to the dining hall, and that was still almost half a mile. Ahead of them, a group of their campers were chattering excitedly about their climbs later.

Joel reached out and tugged on Avery’s braid where it was pulled over her shoulder. “You should give me a piggyback ride.” Avery raised an eyebrow at him. Joel easily had a head on her. “Or you could give me one,” she countered, not really expecting Joel to take her up on it.

Except. “Only if you carry my backpack,” Joel said, already shrugging off his backpack and handing it to Avery.

She laughed. “Bud, I was joking.”

Joel adjusted his hat and came to a stop next to Avery. He was eyeing her expectantly. “Last chance.”

Avery sighed and put Joel’s backpack on over hers. “Jesus Christ, what do you have in this thing?” she asked. It was heavier than hers by a lot. Joel crouched down so Avery could climb onto his back.

“Wood chips,” Joel deadpanned as he adjusted Avery on his back, hiking her up a little higher. Avery tightened her arms around Joel’s neck.

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, but Joel didn’t respond as he started walking again, jogging a little to catch up with Caroline and the kids.

Caroline gave them both a look as they reached the rest of their group, but didn’t comment. Joel carried Avery for most of the long walk towards Alpine, and it was mostly fine, except for the moment he stopped to hike her legs up higher around his waist again and nearly accidentally flipped Avery over his head.

He came to a stop as they reached the first big hill. “Nope, ride’s over. Sorry, sweetheart, I don’t do hills.” He let Avery slide off his back and back onto the ground.

“Sweetheart?”

Joel blushed a little and wouldn’t meet Avery’s eyes. Avery purposely bumped into him as they both started walking again. Joel was panting by the time they made it to the top of the second steep hill, but he stopped short once he saw the Alpine Tower for the first time.

“Oh, hell no,” he said.

Avery laughed and went to drop down in the wood chips on the ground next to Caroline.

“What took you two so long?” she asked.

“Joel’s slow,” Avery told her.

“I heard that!” Joel called. He was only a few feet away, sitting on the low bench next to one of his campers.

“You were meant to!” Avery called back.

The Alpine Tower had once been described to Avery as “a rock wall on steroids.” What it really was was a triangular platform fifty feet in the air, and it was up to the climber to figure out how to get to the top. Each of the three sides were varying degrees of difficulty, and it was always one of Avery’s favorite camp activities. When she glanced over her shoulder, Joel was still staring up at it.

“Scared, Beezer?” she asked.

Joel scoffed, but he didn’t quite look like he meant it.

They made it through the safety demonstration and got a couple kids going up the Tower, and Avery settled in to watch, cheer her kids on, and wait for her turn. Until someone started pelting her with wood chips from behind.

“Can I help you?” she asked, turning around to glare at Joel.

He was already in the middle of throwing another wood chip at her, and it hit her in the forehead this time. “Oops.” He didn’t look particularly sorry, actually. “You gonna climb?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course,” she said. “Are you?” Joel just shrugged. “Wouldn’t have pegged you to be scared of heights,” she added.

Joel stuck his tongue out at her. “I’m not. Just-” he trailed off.

“How ‘bout this,” Avery said, turning fully to face Joel. “I’ll race you to the top. I’ll even let you take the easy side,” she told him. She’d been planning on taking one of the harder sides, anyway, but Joel didn’t need to know that. Joel rolled his eyes, but Avery saw a familiar glint at the prospect of a competition. “Unless you’re too scared, Bee,” she added, just a taunt, really.

“Whatever, you’re on,” he said, half-heartedly throwing another wood chip at Avery’s leg. Avery grinned at him, and Joel grinned back. Caroline shook her head at both of them.

After all the kids had taken their turn at climbing, the counselors were allowed to strap themselves into harnesses and helmets. Avery and Joel stood next to each other in the shadow of the Tower, listening as they were attached to ropes and given final instructions by the climbing staff.

“Fuck, this thing is tight,” Joel muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

“Shh, language,” Avery scolded. Their campers were all in high school, and they’d probably all heard or said “fuck” themselves by now, but still. Joel flicked her in the helmet. “Hey, be nice to me, and I might let you win.”

Joel huffed. “Let me win, sure, alright.”

“Good luck, Bee,” Avery yelled to him, already heading over to start her climb.

She was on the “middle” side, which was harder than the side Joel was starting on, but Avery had the advantage of having climbed that side more than once before. It didn’t take long before she had caught back up to Joel, who had sort of gotten himself stuck.

“Help?” he called, trying to look for a way to keep moving forward.

“Sucks to suck, Beezer,” Avery called back, reaching up to pull the cargo net she was about to climb towards her. This is where it got harder, requiring more upper body strength than Avery actually had, but when she glanced back over her shoulder, Joel had gotten himself unstuck and was moving again.

She stopped paying attention to Joel mostly after that, though she did hear a thump and then an “Ow,” that she was assuming was Joel hitting his head on something, which would definitely not have been the first time someone had done it.

She was about to climb her last stretch of cargo net when she heard, “Shit, why are you so good at this?” from below her. “Quit checking out my ass, Joel,” she yelled without turning around. She cackled when she heard Joel make loud noises of protest. It didn’t really matter; she had a race to win.

In the end, Avery barely made it to the top of the Tower before Joel. She had just stood up on the platform when one of Joel’s hands appeared, grappling for the little rock climbing rocks they had for grip on the top of the platform.

“A little help?” he asked. She could just barely see his head.

“You made it this far, you can do it,” she told him, but she took a couple steps closer to him. It was entirely ungraceful, but Joel eventually scrambled onto the platform and then to his feet.

Avery took a moment to appreciate the view. They were high, above the treeline, and trees stretched out in all directions for as far as Avery could see.

“Fuck, we’re high up,” he said.

“Stop saying fuck,” Avery chided, but she offered him a high five. “Told ya you could do it.”

“Have I told you that I hate you?” Joel asked, shaking his head. He took the high five, though. “Wait, how do we get down again?”

Alpine Tower took up most of the morning, and by the time they all made it back to the dining hall, lunch was already in full swing. Joel stretched out on the bench with a sigh.

“How am I already sore?” he asked, to no one in particular.

Avery nudged his leg. “Move over, dude, the rest of us have to sit, too.”

Joel groaned, but sat up, though he was still sitting sideways on the bench. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on Avery’s shoulder. She patted him absently on the thigh. One of the campers was setting out lunch on their table, and she was trying to see what it was.

“I’m tired,” Joel said. He was quiet for once, and Avery barely heard him over the general din of lunch.

“You can take a nap instead of coming out to the mud cave, meet up with us again for swim time,” she said, knowing full well he wouldn’t do that. He’d been talking about the mud cave ever since Avery had told him about it on Sunday night.

Joel sat upright again. “No way, I wanna get dirty.”

Avery groaned. “Please never say that again.” Joel wiggled his eyebrows at her. She knocked his baseball hat off his head.

The two cabins met back in the circle drive outside the dining hall after lunch, dressed in their dingiest clothes and oldest shoes, ready to pile into the old van that took them out to the edge of the campgrounds. For once, Joel wasn’t wearing a baseball hat. He couldn’t stand still, bouncing around while he chattered with his boys while they waited.

The van pulled up, as rickety and rusty as ever, helmets were handed out, and everyone clambered into the van. There wasn’t a lot of space, and it was hot as the van made its slow way across camp.

“Why is everyone wearing their helmets already?” Joel asked, as the van hit a bump in the road and Joel bounced high enough in his seat to hit his head on the roof. “Ow, okay.”

Eventually the van came to a stop at the creek that cut across the overgrown field they were in. Everyone piled out of the van, blinking in the sunlight.

“So, where’s the cave?” Joel asked. A couple people laughed.

“Across the creek, through the field, and then about another mile into the woods,” Avery told him, patting him on the shoulder as she went past him towards the creek. The campers had already started wading across. When she glanced back over her shoulder at him, he looked a little dismayed.

The creek was clear and cold despite the late summer heat. It came up just past Avery’s waist as she splashed across. The field on the other side was just as overgrown as the one they started in, if not more, and everyone tried to get through it and away from all the bees as fast as possible.

“Is it really that far of a walk?” Joel asked as he caught back up to Avery. His nose had gotten sunburnt at some point, was peeling a little.

“Unfortunately,” Avery said. They were walking back into the shade of the woods now. Avery’s shoes were still squishing a little from the creek, and she could already feel a blister forming on her heel.

Joel groaned, but he was otherwise quiet as they kept walking. They walked in silence for a while, and Avery basked in the sunlight filtering through the trees and the sounds of the birds and cicadas.

“How much farther?” Joel whined after a while. Avery bumped sideways into him.

“We’re almost through the week, don’t tell me you can’t handle a little walking now,” she teased.

Joel bumped into Avery back. “Sorry, one of us walked all the way up to Alpine Tower today,” he said.

“Hey, I walked up the hills at the end!” Avery protested. It wasn’t like she had begged Joel for a piggyback ride, either. Joel rolled his eyes at her.

They had finally reached the cave, and everyone was clustered around the permanent member of the camp staff who would lead their group. The kids were listening eagerly, but Joel was paying attention to literally anything else.

Avery nudged him with her elbow. “Focus, Beezer,” she whispered.

Joel stuck his tongue out at Avery, but started paying attention to where their leader was warning them about bats. “Hang on, you never said anything about bats,” Joel hissed. In front of them, the kids were lining up to head into the cave. Avery just grinned at him and shoved him forward to walk in front of her.

It was immediately cooler when they stepped into the cave. With all the rain on Monday, the water was higher than some years, and it was quickly up over Avery’s shins. In front of her, Joel clicked his flashlight on, but it did little as they made their way deeper into the blackness of the cave.

“Shit, this water’s freezing,” Joel said, way too loudly.

Avery laughed quietly. She felt her shoe unstick from the mud as she took another step. “I don’t know what you expected,” she whispered. It was hard to navigate the uneven footing in the dark and the water, and she tripped a little bit as the ground sloped suddenly beneath her. She caught herself with a hand on Joel’s back. “Shit, sorry,” she said.

Joel didn’t say anything, but he slowed down a bit so Avery could stay closer to him and his little circle of light. He kept a hand outstretched behind him in case Avery tripped again. It was quiet in the cave, just the sounds of everyone making their way through the muddy water and the occasional quiet giggle or curse from the campers. Avery lost track of time a bit, and before she knew it they had reached the back of the cave. All flashlights were turned off, and they stood quietly in the pitch black for a few long moments. Joel was standing close enough to Avery that she could feel his body heat, chasing away some of the chill of the cave. When they finally turned to leave and headed back out of the cave, Joel’s hand found the small of her back, steadying her, just for a second.

At the mouth of the cave, their leader insisted on streaking mud across everyone’s face before they could leave. Joel wrinkled his nose and poked at his cheek as they stepped back out into the sunlight. “Feels weird,” he complained.

“The mud is what you have a problem with?” Avery asked. Yeah, it itched a little as it was drying, but they were also covered in muddy water, well past both of their knees.

Joel just shrugged.

The walk back to the creek always seemed longer. It was still hot and humid, even in the shade of the woods, but it felt worse after spending almost an hour in freezing water and the damp dark of the cave. Everyone walked slower, dragging their soggy feet.

Joel ended up in the creek ahead of Avery. The kids were splashing around, relishing in the clean water.

“Hey, Bee,” Avery called.

Joel turned towards her, but Avery missed a drop-off of the rocks that made up the creek bed, and stumbled. Joel caught her quickly before she face-planted into the water.

“Careful,” he said, grinning down at her. “No need to throw yourself at me,” he added.

Avery rolled her eyes. She had found her footing, but Joel was still clutching her arms. She pushed at his chest and laughed as his heel slipped and he fell backwards. He disappeared under the water for a moment.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that,” he said when he reappeared.

Avery tried to dash away, but the water came up over her waist, which made it hard to move quickly. She splashed as much as she could, but she felt Joel grab her around the waist and haul her backwards until they were both falling back underwater. Avery shrieked. Joel let go of her after they both went under, and Avery pushed herself away and stood back up. They were both soaked now. Joel was laughing, and Avery couldn’t help but to laugh, too.

“Alright, you two,” Caroline yelled from the shore. “Quit flirting and get out of the creek.”

They both grumbled about it, but they made it to the other side of the creek without further incident.

Back into the van everyone went. It felt less hot with everyone still chilled from the cave and playing in the creek. Joel slid in next to Avery, pressed up against her side. They were stopping off at the lakefront swim next instead of going back to their cabins, and Avery was looking forward to spending more time out in the sun on the lake. Joel nudged her in the ribs with his elbow, drawing her attention away from where she was staring out the window.

“You goin’ out on the lake?” he asked quietly. The van jolted, and he ended up nearly in Avery’s lap for a moment.

“Of course,” Avery said back.

“Wanna grab a canoe together and chill?”

Avery thought for a moment. “Not interested in trying to knock me off a paddle board some more?” she teased.

Joel shook his head, grinning at Avery. His helmet was off, and his hair was a mess from being underneath it. “Too tired,” he said.

“Lame,” Avery said. Then, “Dibs on the front of the canoe.”

It didn’t take long to change out of their drenched and muddy clothes into swimsuits and commandeer a canoe. Joel got stuck doing most of the steering, with Avery only paddling when necessary. They mostly just drifted, letting the breeze push them along the open water. The lake was steel grey, the sky above them dark with clouds that had rolled in while they were in the cave, threatening more rain. Avery sat back and let her fingers brush across the water.

“Hey,” Joel said. His voice echoed a little, carrying across the lake. “Look at me for a sec.”

Avery turned as much as she could without jostling the canoe. Joel had his phone out, and when she turned, Avery heard the artificial shutter sound as Joel snapped a picture of her. She flipped him off with a grin; he took a picture of that, too.

The dining hall seemed extra loud that night, campers running back and forth between tables, everyone desperate for a few extra minutes with their friends before everyone went their separate ways the next day.

“You’ve got a little-” Joel poked the dried mud Avery still had across her cheekbones, sitting next to her at their table.

She swatted his hand away. “Shut up, I didn’t have time to shower after swim.” Joel slid down the bench, away from Avery. “Okay, rude,” she said. Joel grinned at her. He didn’t move any closer.

After dinner was the closing campfire. They were at the big fire ring this time, down near the lakefront as the sun set. Joel found Avery sitting on one of the benches off to the side of the fire by herself and plopped down on the bench next to her. His backpack made a muffled thump when he dropped it in the wood chips at their feet.

Avery dropped her head to rest on Joel’s shoulder. “I’m tired, Bee,” she whined. As much as she loved camp, it usually kicked her ass by the end of the week.

Joel laughed softly and patted Avery on the thigh. “Last day tomorrow,” he reminded her.

Avery stared into the flickering flames until her eyes went unfocused. “But I don’t wanna go home.”

She didn’t want to leave camp, her happy place, didn’t want to leave Joel, who she was maybe falling in love with, didn’t want to leave her friends and the endless days of summer behind.

Joel laughed again, but it wasn’t mean. “I get that.” The kids were starting in on their s’mores. “I wasn’t sure how much I was gonna like it here, honestly. Especially when I got here and everyone else already knew each other, and I was just the new guy.”

Avery lifted her head and looked at Joel. The firelight was casting shadows across his face, but he was gazing out over the lake. His hand was still on Avery’s leg, just above her knee.

“Did you like it after all?” Avery asked. She thought about him talking about next year on the very first day, saying he thought camp would be fun.

Joel grinned then, and it was familiar and comforting. Avery hadn’t expected that to happen at the beginning of the week.

She found herself wanting to see Joel’s smile forever.

“Yeah, I did,” was all Joel said. Avery put her head back on his shoulder.

They were quiet for a few minutes as the sun sank fully below the treeline and the lake glowed red next to them. Avery shivered in spite of the warm air as a wind blew. Joel bumped her head with his shoulder so Avery sat back up, and then he was bending over to dig something out of his backpack. He dropped a hoodie in Avery’s lap. She hadn’t seen him wearing it ever during the evening, which meant he’d thrown it in his bag just for her. She pulled it on with a small smile.

“You might not get this back, bud,” she told him, tugging the sleeves over her hands. Guys’ hoodies always seemed more comfortable than any sweatshirt Avery had ever owned herself.

Joel just shook his head at her and tugged on her braid, but it was gentle, half-hearted.

“Oh, wait, I’ll be right back,” Joel said, jumping back up and disappearing towards the s’mores table. When he came back a few minutes later, he had a s’more in one hand.

“What, nothing for me?” Avery teased.

“No, because you don’t like chocolate, you freak,” Joel said, but he reached into his shorts pocket and triumphantly produced an unopened sleeve of graham crackers, tossing them to Avery. She squinted suspiciously at him as he sat back down. “Carol told me you’ll eat the graham crackers,” he said casually.

Avery opened the crackers carefully and stuck one in her mouth. “Thanks, Bee,” she said around it. It came out softer than she meant for it to.

Joel winked at her and stole a graham cracker.

Every year, there were rumours of campers planning to sneak out of their cabins on the last night of camp. Really, they were terrible at being discreet about it, but they thought they were being subtle. Regardless, the counselors still had to be careful and watch to make sure no one actually did manage to sneak out.

Which is how Avery and Joel ended up sitting out in front of the stars at the small fire ring in front of their cabins, perched on the cold stone wall with both of their cabins in view. Avery was still wearing Joel’s hoodie.

“Do you think they’ll actually do it?” Joel asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Avery shook her head and tilted her chin to look up at the stars. “Probably not, but I’m not about to get in trouble with Austin if they do.” It had happened once while she was still a camper, and it hadn’t exactly been pretty the next day with an entire cabin in trouble.

It had been cloudy earlier in the day, but it had cleared up, and the stars were as bright as ever above them. The moon was low and yellow in the humid air. Avery wished for a second that she had a camera to capture this moment, a memory to last forever.

Joel mimicked Avery, looking up at the stars. “Bright tonight,” he said. Avery hummed in agreement. “Hey, you know what we should do after the kids fall asleep?” he asked suddenly.

Avery raised an eyebrow at him. “Sleep?”

Joel huffed out a quiet laugh. “I wanna check out that cemetery you guys were talking about,” Joel said.

“At night?” Avery said. “Hell no, it’s creepy enough during the daytime,” she told him.

She’d been back there once before, years ago. There were broken headstones scattered throughout the overgrown grass, and it was shaded by the dam and a dozen trees, making it cooler, even in the heat of summer. It felt like it was a world away from the rest of the camp, quiet and eerie, and Avery had zero plans of ever going back there.

Joel rolled his eyes. “You know what else we could do?” He turned so he was facing Avery.

She tilted her head to look at him. He was smiling softly at her. It was a little scary how quickly he’d become a part of Avery’s life, how she went from knowing nothing about him to trusting that he’d always be by her side.

“I don’t know, Joel, what could we do?” Avery whispered.

Joel’s smile grew, and then he was leaning in. Avery’s eyes closed as their lips met. Joel’s hand was wrapped around one of Avery’s wrists, thumb rubbing absently over the skin there. When he pulled away, he was still smiling. They were sitting closer together than they had been, though Avery wasn’t sure which one of them had moved.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all week,” Joel admitted.

“Well, why didn’t you?” Avery asked, and then she was wrapping a hand around the back of his neck to pull him in for another kiss. She could feel Joel smiling into the kiss, even as he tugged her closer.

Distantly, Avery heard a cabin door open. She pulled away to turn and look, and Joel dropped his head to her shoulder. Avery ran her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck. Caroline was walking towards them.

“I was going to tell you that the kids are asleep and you two can come back inside, but you seem pretty busy,” she said once she got closer.

They both flipped her off, and she laughed at them as she turned and headed back into the girls’ cabin. Avery shivered in spite of herself then. Joel rubbed his free hand over Avery’s thigh, a little bit for warmth, and a little bit just to touch her, because he could do that now.

“Last day tomorrow,” Joel murmured. Avery leaned closer.

“Don’t wanna talk about that,” she said. She looked back up at the stars, hoping that they would have some answers, for how she was feeling, for how she was going to go back to a normal life after this.

Joel used a finger to pull Avery’s chin towards him again, to press one last kiss to her lips. He used the hand on her wrist to pull her to her feet.

“Better get to bed,” he said, and it sounded a little wistful.

As much as she didn’t want to leave Joel, Avery was cold, and her ass hurt from sitting on the concrete wall for so long. “Walk me to my door?” she asked. The cabin was only a couple hundred feet away, but she was going to hold onto every last moment. Joel held his arm out for her to loop hers through. “Don’t want to get attacked by a raccoon or something,” she added.

Joel ducked his head and stole one last kiss when he dropped her off, Avery’s hand already on the doorknob.

“See you tomorrow,” she whispered to his retreating back.

The last day of camp was always weird. The buses didn’t come to pick up the campers until after lunch, which left several weird hours of downtime to kill in between cabin cleanout and the time everyone actually left camp. Even with everyone still lingering and saying their goodbyes, with the cabins standing empty, camp had an eerie and melancholy feel.

Cleaning out the cabins was always a mad scramble of kids hunting down their belongings and cleaning up week-old messes. They only had half an hour after breakfast before they had to be out of the cabins, and there was never enough time.

“How does someone always lose a towel?” Avery asked Caroline. “How do you not realize you don’t have your swim towel?”

Joel had sat next to Avery at breakfast, like usual, but they hadn’t talked about the night before, or what was going to happen in the future. Avery was trying her best not to think about it. Which is to say, it was all she could think about.

Caroline waved her hand in front of Avery’s face, jarring her back to the present. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” she asked.

“Joel,” Avery admitted.

Caroline smirked. “I can’t believe it took you two that long to get your shit together. Thought for sure you’d be hooking up after the first night.”

Avery shoved at Caroline’s arm until she fell off the path and stepped into the grass, cackling. “Why am I friends with you.” Caroline stepped back on the sidewalk. “I don’t know what we’re gonna do. Summer camp is a whole different world from everything else.”

“I think you’re overthinking this,” Caroline told her. Ahead of them, Joel was helping one of the younger boys carry his heavy bag. Avery sighed.

“I don’t even think he lives around here,” Avery said, remembering when Joel had told them he was from New York. She had never thought to ask how exactly he’d come across their little camp, how he’d ended up in the Midwest.

Caroline shoved her back. “You know how you could find all that out?” she asked. “Talk to him.”

They had caught up to Joel. “Who are we talking to?” he asked, shooting Avery a knowing look.

They lost him in the chaos of trying to organize all the kids’ luggage into the proper bus piles, but he cornered Avery in the basement of the dining hall as she was about the head back upstairs.

“Hi,” she said. He was wearing his hat the right way around for once. Avery reached up and flipped it backwards, so she could pull him down for a quick kiss. Joel’s hand was warm on her waist.

“What was that for?” Joel asked, but he ducked down to steal another kiss. “Heard we needed to talk about something,” he went on, without waiting for Avery to respond. She poked him in the stomach, got him to back off from where he was caging her in against a wall.

“How does this work?” Avery asked. Joel had taken a step back, but he stayed close, close enough that Avery could see the way his eyebrows furrowed when she spoke.

“What do you mean?”

“Camp doesn’t last forever, Joel,” Avery said.

“So what, this has to end?” Joel asked.

Avery took another step away from Joel. “I don’t know, does it?” she snapped. “What even is ‘this,’ anyway?”

Joel stepped closer and took Avery’s hand. “I don’t know, but I know that I like you, and that I want to find out,” he said.

Avery looked up at Joel. The look in his eyes was earnest, genuine. She felt the fight drain out of her. “How do we do that?” she murmured.

“We’ll figure it out as we go, yeah?”

Avery smiled. “Yeah.”

When they made it back upstairs, Caroline was shuffling a deck of cards, and there was a pile of spoons stolen from the kitchen in the middle of the table. Joel was still holding tightly to Avery’s hand as they walked. A couple campers made room for them at the table, and his hand rested on her thigh instead. Avery leaned into his side.

“Deal us in,” she said.

#cait writes things #joel farabee #joel farabee fic #joel farabee imagine #joel farabee fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey imagine

[jordanstrophe]

Hello lovely human! Can you please write a snippet in which Gabriel meets with his parents for the first time in months while he’s staying with Malady? Also, how does Malady’s fiance feel about Gabriel staying with them?

Hello lovely anon! I don't want to write anything involving Gabriel's parent's quite yet, that’s for the main story ^-^ But! I can give you an introduction to David, Malady's fiancé. (UPDATE: I have no self control, this is basically the next main chapter of Be a Good Guest)

CW: Female caretaker, recovering emotionally damaged whumpee in the wild, hospital and medical injuries mentioned, some conditioning/deconditioning 

A gentle knock on the door sent the boy into a spiraling panic, ducking behind the couch to quiver. "Hey! Gabriel, it's alright. It's just a friend." Malady soothed, reaching to touch his shoulder, but stopped, thinking the better of it.

She then cracked the door open with a bit too much glee. "David!" She cheered, burying herself in the man's arms. "My war angel!" The man chuckled, tenderly embracing the woman in his arms. His smile turned into concern as he glanced over her shoulder, his eyes searching the room.

"You told me about this man, Gabriel, is he-?"

"He's, ah-... currently in hiding." She cleared her throat.

"Malady, are you sure this is what's best? I'm worried... I really think you need to let the authorities fully handle this." He grumbled, helping himself to the coffee pot. "I know, and I am. The police are looking for my brother as we speak. Gabriel's family were several states, they’ll be here in a few days. Poor couple has been worried sick..." She sighed.

"But you need to let the hospital take Gabriel. You're in no condition to care for him with your arm like this." He gestured to the brace strapped across her shoulder. 

Malady choked down her drink, desperate to compose herself. "My goodness dear! I used to be a medic! I'm better suited than any hospital to watch him. He's not that badly injured, he's just exhausted and scared. Do you really think a hospital is going to care him appropriately?" She complained, crossing her arms on the table.

"You feel guilty, don't you?"

"What?"

"He was your brother, Malady. You used to talk about Walter all the time, worried about him, wondering how he was doing. Worried what he was doing." David reached across the table and took her hand, his thumb grazing her engagement ring.

"You saved his life. You've done enough."

She sighed as she took his hand back, propping her chin on the palm of her hand. "But I want to. I want to see this through. I'll be fine, I've been fine for years now, I know how to pull my weight." She grinned, circling her one good arm in the air. David only shook his head with a proud smirk. "This is why I'm marrying you."

They both fell silent when they realized Gabriel had come out from hiding, standing skittishly in the doorway. They both exchanged a puzzle look.

"Heey, you must be Gabriel." David spoke in a low tone. Gabriel watched his movements for a moment, before subtly nodding his head. He took a step back when the man extended his hand to him.

"Oh, David, he's not going to take-" She froze when Gabriel came closer, his eyes fixated on the man's hand like it could strike at any second, but yet the gesture felt so friendly, and familiar. His hand noticeably trembled as he grasped only two of the man's fingers, before quickly jerking his arm back to his chest protectively.

"Oh wow..." Malady whispered, hiding an overjoyed smile behind her hand.

It looked like there were still some old human habits stuck in him somewhere. 

Deep down...

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ  Thank you for reading! @octopus-reactivated @yesthisiswhump  @lave-whump @whumpasaurus101 @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @hamiltonwhumpdump @just-another-whumper @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @approach-me-and-ill-cry  @whump-it @kixngiggles @as-a-matter-of-whump  @five-fictions-5-9 @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @thelazywitchphotographer  @sophierose002 @happy-whumper @cowboy-anon @princessofonward  @lonesome--hunter @yet-another-heathen @mylifeisonthebookshelf @sideblogformindtrash

#be a good guest #whump #whumpee #caretaker #female caretaker #rescued whumpee #recovering whumpee #hurt comfort #tw hospital #tw medical

[attemptsonherlifepdf]

modern gothic, sci-fi, and the moral binary: why the matrix is one of the most relevant gothic pieces of the last twenty five years

the gothic is a genre that is designed to explore transgressive behaviours and private desires, and often does so by having these explicit acts committed by a supernatural character. this serves to not only characterise the behaviour as monstrous but ‘Other’ people who behave that way. while this is typical of traditional gothic literature, modern gothic tends to present sympathetic villains, who suggest to audiences that transgressive behaviours are not inherently threatening or deserving of punishment, but simply different. as put by kelley hurley, ‘through depicting the abhuman, the gothic reaffirms and reconstructs human identity.’ in order to understand the progression from traditional gothic to modern genres that stem from it, namely science fiction, psychological thrillers and murder mysteries, we must first understand it’s basic timeline.

gothic literature began as a genre with very little positive reception, originally seen as a frivolous, and unserious style of writing. often called ‘dark romanticism’, the genre used the ‘purple prose’ and decadent architecture of romantic literature, but associated it with more sinister narratives concerning religion, murder and both sexual and identitiy-oriented transgression. originating from horace walpole’s ‘castle of otranto’, the genre was used to reflect the cultural anxieties of the time period, and thus gained traction by being temporally relevant. modern gothic’s deconstruction of the ‘good vs evil’ binary is a reflection of contemporary understandings of the aforementioned topics, which address the complexities of transgression. notable examples of later gothic literature include susan hill’s 1983 novel, ‘the woman in black’, a pastiche of traditional victorian ghost stories that utilises sympathetic villains to add complexity to the idea of villainy. additionally, the work of angela carter, particularly that of her 1979 collection ‘the bloody chamber’ which uses gothic conventions to subvert more conservative fairytales and fables, another instance of this ‘dark romanticism’ technique.

by presenting transgression as complex, rather than fulfilling one side of a binary, modern gothic allows us to consider if transgression is even that dangerous; it serves to dismantle the idea that ‘different = threatening.’ a brilliant example of this is the previously mentioned work of carter, and her short stories ‘the tiger’s bride’ and ‘the courtship of mr lyon.’ these stories are subverted retellings of the traditional ‘beauty and the beast’ fairytale. While maintaining the general events of the original ending, where beauty stays with the beast of her own volition, carter offers up two dynamics between the human and abhuman that serve to recharacterise ‘Othered’ creatures as less threatening and more sympathetic and innocent. ‘the courtship of mr lyon’ mimics the original story’s ending, with beauty’s understanding of the beast resulting in his transformation back to human. ‘the tiger’s bride’ offers the reverse: in beauty’s acceptance of the beast, she transforms to be animal-like like him as well. this appears almost as an act of solidarity. perhaps an incredibly modern reading of carter’s metamorphosed characters is as an allegory for transgenderism. discussions around gender identity during the 1970s in britain, even in second-wave feminist circles, were more concerned with rejecting and redefining traditional gender roles than they were with the personal identity of individuals, so we can assume this was not carter’s intention when writing these stories. however, ideas of physical transformation, and how proximity to the ‘Other’ can ‘radicalise’ one’s own identity are very fitting with treatment of transgender people both historically and presently. genres that stem from the late gothic, namely sci-fi, have been known for using metamorphosis as an allegory for marginalised identities, using physical transformation as an allegory for ideological or emotional transformation. a prime example of this is lana and lilly wachowski’s series ‘the matrix.’ written as a trans allegory, the movie series criticises the social pressure for conformity the way carter does and attempts to explicitly recharacterise trans people as an innocent non-conforming identity rather than a threat. carter’s exploration and reproval of established values similarly tends to centre around ideas of gender, making this reading not entirely unreasonable. she suggests that societal fears surrounding gender identity and liberation are unfounded.

ultimately, carter paints various traits and identities that are widely considered ‘threatening’ to be multifaceted and liberating instead, as she views the established values that they ‘threaten’ to be restrictive and in need of changing. the matrix represents these established values with ‘agents’ who attempt to hide the true nature of the world from the population. in the preface to the bloody chamber collection, helen simpson writes that 'human nature is not immutable, human beings are capable of change', arguing this point as the core of carter’s gothic subversions. she suggests through her writing that what is perceived as a social threat is often based upon what is uncomfortable rather than what is actually dangerous. her work is partially ambivalent in that it does not instruct what is right or wrong, but instead depicts societal relationships and allows the audience to interpret it.

the matrix achieves a similar result, with gothic elements and subversions supporting it’s messages.sci-fi takes gothic settings, ideas of liminality, decay, transgression and the Other, and recontextualises them with in the hypothetical far future. traditional gothic settings such as the ruins of decadent mansions become abandoned high-tech buildings. the binary between conventional and transgressive shifts from being a contrast between catholic ideals and more modern behaviours to being a contrast between those profiting off capitalism and those suffering from it.

implicit in the matrix’s notion of discovering a newer world more true to reality is the idea that ‘different’ or ‘unconventional’ experiences and identities are not threatening, but liberating. the matrix suggests we can unlearn our villainisation of trans people, and does so through the use of various gothic conventions. to begin with, gothic texts are often written to reflect the cultural anxieties of the moment. lilly wachowski has stated that the movie was ‘born out of anger at capitalism and the corporate structure and forms of oppression.’ the late nineties in america was certainly a time of tension for lgbt people. frank rich sites ‘the homophobic epidemic of '98...spiked with the october murder of matthew shepard’ as an era of extreme difficulty for the lgbt community in the usa. this hostile environment is reflected in the nature of the matrix’s ‘agents’ and their insistence on maintaining the illusion of free will that comes with the false reality they push. they are in no way open to ideas that differ from their own and actively come down on those who suggest them. this anxiety for the lgbt community is reflected in the movie; the anxiety itself is expressed through a combination of subverted and traditional gothic tropes. gender itself is a topic highly relevant to the gothic. the wachowskis utilise binary oppositions, the most obvious example being the red pill vs blue pill’ scenario. the movie poses a stark contrast between two approaches to life: ‘the willingness to learn a potentially unsettling or life-changing truth, by taking the red pill, or remaining in contented ignorance with the blue pill.’ its interesting for a piece that is intentioned to deconstruct binaries to construct this binary, but it does serve a purpose. this binary serves as a device to show, allegorically, the experience of trans people in western cultures. belinda mcclory’s character, switch, is a specific representation of the gender transition process. in the matrix she appears as a woman, and in the real world as a man. while the wachowskis may not have had the creative freedom to include an explicitly transgender character, this was the closest and most specific hint they could have given the audience, right down to the character’s cratylic naming. switch’s experience presenting as both man and woman, and only one of her presentations occurs in the ‘true reality’ that is representative of people’s true natures and personalities. this use of metamorphosis mimics the way many trans people must present as their assigned gender at birth in public, and their true identity in private, that their physical body and their perception of themselves when they have control of their appearance are not necessarily aligned. this parallel relies upon the binary consisting of a false reality and a true one to illustrate its point.

it has also been suggested that the red pill is representative of a hormone pill, and many viewers have likened neo’s mental restlessness to gender dysphoria: ‘what you know you can't explain, but you feel it. you've felt it your entire life, that there's something wrong with the world. you don't know what it is, but it's there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad.’ these small parallels coalesce to form the movie’s representation of the trans experience in a way that is arguaby subtle to the cisgender viewer. neo openly rejects being called ‘mr anderson’ or ‘thomas anderson’ from our first introduction to him. he replaces his given male-coded name with something seemingly androgenous for his own comfort, and ‘mr anderson’ almost serves as a deadname, which only the agents who enforce a false reality use to refer to him. agent smith uses neo’s two names to frame his two separate lives very distinctly; ‘one of these lives has a future, and one of them does not.’ with an understanding of the trans subtext of the movie, this appears as a thinly veiled reference to the difficulties openly trans people face. coming out, in most places in the world, can result in loss of employment, loss of contact with family, and so on. as put by lili wachowski, ‘transgender people without support, means and privilege do not have this luxury. and many do not survive.’ agent smith appears to be warning neo of the dangerous of living as his true self, insistently referring to him with his given name rather than his chosen one, even if just for bureaucratic reasons. neo’s name is a vital to his defiance against both agent smith and the false reality he seeks to maintain:

agent smith:

you hear that mr. anderson?... that is the sound of inevitability... it is the sound of your death... goodbye, mr. anderson...

neo:

my name... is neo.

in defiantly maintaining his chosen name, neo pushes for the true reality to be accepted and understood. this is motivated by the fact that ‘i don't like the idea that I'm not in control of my life.’ this is an instance of neo taking control, by asserting his identity. the high stakes of this scene mimic the high stakes that trans people face in asserting their identities in an unaccepting social climate. the movie also acknowledges the public perception of trans people as a threat: ‘i know that you're afraid... you're afraid of us. you're afraid of change...the matrix is a system, neo, that system is our enemy.’ appearance vs reality is yet another key aspect of the gothic that is utilised in the matrix, and the narrative forces the viewer to consider whether they would accept a harsh reality or prefer total ignorance and accept what appears in front of them.

the movie’s treatment of violence against its protagonist is particularly relevant to the gothic. typically, queer-coded men or people of colour in fiction experience physical violence allegorical to the way female characters are written into sexualised danger: for trauma-based character development. violence against minorities in media, specifically gothic media, is often symbolic rather than just plain horrific. female, queer or bodies of colour are seen solely as political identities, so the violence they face is violence against an idea, not a person. queer or queer-coded men like neo are often feminised to a certain extent, even if its simply rejecting the title ‘mr’, to allow the violence against them to be symbolic or political rather than personal. often with cisgender, heterosexual, white or male characters, any cruelty they face is considered to be senseless and is characterised as brutal, pure violence, as their bodies are simply allowed to exist as bodies without a political statement attached to their existence. they are not making a statement or defying standards simply by having bodies. the gothic specifically uses symbolic violence in its later stages, and it is often faced by characters who are ‘Othered’ such as frankenstein’s monster being faced with angry hordes of people, or the suicide of jennet humfrye, the titular character of the woman in black who had a child out of wedlock. this symbolic violence in the matrix is particularly relevant to the above scene between agent smith and neo, where neo’s retaliation involves not just physical fighting but defiance over his own identity.

setting in the matrix is quintessentially modern gothic, and is an integral part of characterising the differences between appearance and reality. the real world and the matrix are characterised both by their physical appearance and the characters associated with them. the whole movie is shot with relatively bleak green, grey and blue tones; the unnamed cities in the matrix were filmed in sydney, australia, but are supposed to appear as a city that could be located anywhere. this makes viewers somewhat comforted as the cities appear familiar, but their association with the antagonistic agents makes it difficult to truly identify with them. in contrast, the real world appears cold, crude and difficult to survive in, but is home to a crew of sympathetic rebels that the audience is supposed to root for. the city of zion is all harsh metal and can feel like a very temporary, unsafe residence but scenes such as the party in matrix reloaded characterise it as a place of community. the duality of each setting is typical of the gothic, and allows the viewer to explore the complexity of the movie’s conundrum. no option is the easy, immediate or obvious choice. the viewer must consult their own morals and values. ideas and anxieties surrounding moral decay are vital to the narrative of gothic tales; the genre explores and seeks to define humanity, and doing so often involves ethnocentric set of morals associated with good and bad. concepts like metamorphosis, identity, and the rejection of religion or christian/western ideals all play into this, but this is where modern gothic’s acknowledgement of complexity reframes things. most developments described as ‘modern gothic’ apply to sci-fi as it is an extension of, or evolved from,1960s-1990s gothic.

in presenting the aforementioned topics as multifaceted, the genre is able to imply or sometimes directly suggest that the ways in which presentations of them differ from established values is not immediately threatening, but simply different or even sympathetic. the matrix almost reverses traditional expressions of transgression by suggesting that those seeking to maintain the status quo are enforcing restrictive and immoral ideals, and that those whose agendas differ from the status quo are seeking liberation. this appears very similarly in angela carter’s previously mentioned work, exemplifying the parallels between sci-fi and the gothic. ‘the matrix stuff was all about the desire for transformation but it was all coming from a closeted point of view.’ lilly wachowski states. transformation and metamorphosis are topics so in line with the content of the gothic, allowing authors to explore and compare different states of being in order to eventually, sometimes implicitly, condemn one and promote the other. in reference to how she was drawn to use sci-fi as the medium for this story, she says that ‘we were existing in a space where the words didn't exist, so we were always living in a world of imagination.’ things that cannot work in our social climate can be allowed to work in an imagined scenario, with imagined consequences separate from the real world, similarly to the gothic’s use of the supernatural as a vehicle for taboo actions and values.

the wachowskis select science fiction tropes that are core to the gothic as a medium for the matrix’s allegorical meaning: taboo subjects, metamorphosis, binary oppositions, moral questions and stark settings. the matrix arguably serves as a bridge between the two genres, while also being unmistakably modern in its support of trans people and its open criticism of capitalism and social systems. this is not to say that earlier texts do not argue similarly points, but that the popularity of the matrix means that these points and messages are widespread and consumed by a massive audience. the movie was released in early june of 1999, and by august 2000, the matrix dvd had sold over three million copies in usa, making it the best-selling of all time. its unlikely that those three million dvd owners had all interpreted the movie the way the wachowskis had intended, as is the case with all media, but their anti-capitalist and pro-lgbt rhetoric was still present in the movie and has become glaringly obvious to more viewers over 20 years beyond its release date. using binaries as a tool to deconstruct other binaries is a device used more and more within sci-fi and the exploration of morals, systemic structures and the role of lgbt people are both vital to both genres. trans people are originally characterised as ‘Other’, but are rightfully humanised and encouraged to pursue their true identities: ‘to deny our impulses is to deny the very thing that makes us human.’

i.k.b

#mine #essay #literature essay #film essay #film analysis #matrix #the matrix 1999 #lilly wachowski #lana wachowski #the wachowskis #gothic literature #scifi #science fiction #analysis #analytical essay #copyright ikb #the matrix analysis #the matrix trilogy #keanu reeves #neo #trans allegory #matrix trans allegory #lgbtq cinema #lgbt #angela carter #the bloody chamber #modern gothic #anti capitalism #trans movies

[flirtyhyuck]

Floor 1 - Incubus Haechan

; haechan x gender neutral reader

; incubus haechan, slight religious talk, suggestive, dubcon, demonic aphrodisiac

; 2.4k wc

; The entire room is painted black. The only thing you can see is your friend’s phone screen and the flickering orange light illuminating the elevator itself. It’s old fashion; dark-stain wood plank walls with a vintage scissor gate. The metal looks rusty and you’re afraid to touch it. You step into the small box alone, waving off your friend and nervously reading the attraction brochure for the fifteenth time. It’s creepily vague with way too bold of a font and too many colours.

Welcome to Elevator 127!

Come make an appearance at a spooky Halloween attraction unlike any haunted house you’ve ever seen. Pick a floor for an eerie hour with any of our paranormal members. Free of charge too! Pass the elevator doors and enter their realm far from any experience you’ve ever had.

Select your floor...

The very first listing in the brochure is for an incubus named Haechan; 606 years old, male (in human form), and Korean. There’s nothing but his information printed with what looks like a stamp of a sigil; two circles, one big and small, with three crosses meeting at their ends in the middle , laid 90 degrees separate from one another, with a flicked tail coming from the center. Lilith spells itself out between the edges of the circles in all capitals.

You scan the rest of the options but end up back at Haechan’s section. It’s best to go in order, he’s only a floor up and all the rest are placed in a drastic range from one another. You fold up the brochure and shove it into your back pocket, crumpling up the paper slightly, and scan the button selection for his floor. The pad is a painted rectangle with ten black, circular buttons, arranged in five rows with his placed alone at the very top. It’s damp when you press and you go to check your hands in the case it was your own sweat, grimacing when you find that there’s now a clear sheen on your right pointer.

With a final close of the door, you wipe your finger onto the thin brochure paper that peeks out and stand patiently as the elevator leisurely makes its way up. The floors were either built far apart or this old lift was taking its time on the way there. You check your phone for the time, feeling as if five minutes had already passed just for a single floor, and raise a brow when the device doesn’t turn on. How cliche, you think.

The elevator gently comes to a stop, so naturally that you wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for the slight squeak that sounds when it halts. You press the door button and watch it squeak open, revealing a dim, red room with candles placed all over its wooden black furniture.

A second later, the view is obstructed by a large puff of smoke, a black cloud appearing out of nowhere to drift away in skinny tendrils from the body standing in the middle of it. You guess that this is Haechan. He’s a younger-looking man, an innocent face with a teasing smile and soft but prominent jawline. He’s got caramel skin with the reddest of lips, colour resembling the dark shade of horns that peek through his curled, light brown hair. He’s dressed in all black, head to toe varying from sheer mesh to worn leather in the dark shade.

“Hi,” he giggles as an introduction, a glittering in his black eyes and pearly whites. The man tilts his head like a curious puppy, eyes opening even wider with wonder, and he eyes you up and down before carrying on, “I’m Haechan, demon name is Donghyuck.”

You stand in shock, still taking in the sudden appearance of the incubus and his simple introduction. The first thing you do is give him your own name in a small mumble, biting your lip nervously. His eyes focus on the action with fervor, gaze so strong you swear you can feel a slight burn begin to bubble your skin on the exact spot.

He chuckles when you turn away, blinking in a lethargic manner before taking a step back and directing you into his room with a wave of two fingers. You walk in with a deep breath and the moment your body enters the room, the gate slams shut with a crash and plunges down so fast you can hear gusts of air follow behind it. How lucky that you didn’t have to experience that speed.

The first thing you notice is how warm it is here compared to the elevator, air stuffy, and dense. Your cheeks take in the warmth as you steady for proper breathing, adjusting to the thicker air as you take in the room properly. There’s a king-sized bed against the center of the left wall, covered in red satin and black lace lined sheets. With a proper inspection, the room is actually furnished like any other, only standing out due to its intimate and monotone colour palette. Besides the giant sigil that’s painted onto the center of the floor, identical to the brochure.

“Thanks for choosing my floor, doll. I was getting bored,” he smiles, still not moving an inch. His posture is like that of a statue, the only sense of life is the smile on his lips. With his hands crossed in front of his hips, he continues speaking with a charming lilt in a honey-coated voice, “the only rule on my floor is absolutely no religious or silver jewellery. Go put them in the box behind you.”

You spin around and make your way to the small glass box, open and waiting, before discarding any accessories that seem to be against his rule. The moment your necklace is off your skin and onto the box, you feel Haechan’s body stood a centimetre from your own. Leaning over your shoulder, he watches you drop the last of your rings into the box before whispering, “can I touch you?”

You barely get halfway through a nod before Haechan eagerly wraps his arms around your waist, pressing you against his own body. His skin is searing hot, only slightly hidden by the heat absorption of his clothing. The part that stands out the most is his bare fingers, ungloved, and laid on your sides. There’s a gradual sweltering feeling that forms like a branding print and your body begins to panic at the feeling, needing to run from the danger of burns this very moment. Except you lean into it, the slight numbing feeling worryingly satisfying the more you hold out. Sustaining the touch makes it more intense, more terrifying, yet when his hand drifts up to clutch at a different spot, the fresh searing feel has shivers flying down your spine.

“Close your eyes, doll,” he mutters into your nape. Your eyelids shut without any added thought of his order, lips parting in a slight gasp at the touch of his breath against your exposed skin. It’s overwhelming and you feel your brain go fuzzy, zeroing in on that singular spot and the throb that comes with every exhale .

His hand finds your jaw next, the touch burning just as much as the last, and with a firm hold, Haechan physically gets you to look over your shoulder. With a drowsy blink, you open your eyes to the dizzying sight of his face leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss. Your mind blanks immediately; senses working in overdrive so that all you can make out is static, you’ve forgotten how to breathe and there’s no way to feel if you’re kissing Haechan back properly.

The demon pulls back with a lewd pop, licking away the spit all over his lips with a swipe of his forked tongue before murmuring for you to open your eyes again. “You can relax now, baby.”

The action of blinking open is painfully difficult, eyelids insanely sluggish and head so heavy that even the low luminescence of candle-light is enough to have you wince. You open your mouth to speak but can only manage a smile, tongue lazy after the haze. He doesn’t look nearly as worn out as you, the exact opposite actually. His breathing is slow and controlled, expression alert and attuned to each and every one of your actions.

“I’ll let you relax,” he huffs with a simper, “I’ll have to calm down on how much I take, you’re more sensitive than I thought.” As if to check that truth, Haechan runs his pointer down your neck and follows the movement to the middle of your chest with a light scratch, digging into the midway point of your pelvis before letting go with an amused hum. You visibly shudder.

He pulls away and wanders to the other side of the room. The distance clears your head instantly, muscles gaining their strength back from the jello state they were in just a moment ago. Regaining the ability to breathe feels like a blocked nose finally clearing up after a week long fever and you take deep, desperate inhales, savouring the sensation of your lungs filling properly. Sitting up, you watch Haechan walk over to the glass box and examine the contents through the clear material curiously.

You startle realising you were no longer near the glass box, suddenly you were on a completely different side of the room watching it from a distance away. “What the fuck,” you whisper, gulping down the confusion and panting in fear. Your hands fly up and you look between them and the box so quickly your neck might snap if you do another two. The sleeves of your shirt fall down your forearm to reveal your skin, allowing access to cooling. You relish in the feeling of crisp air on your skin, exceptionally torrid, so much so you swear that you can feel the layer sizzling against one another.

“Don’t worry,” Haechan smirks, licking across his perfectly straight teeth with a calm gaze that only serves to panic you more. “I moved you to the bed while we were kissing.” There’s no shame in his voice, only a hint of pride when recalling the actions, but he’s so infuriatingly indifferent that you feel a whine crawl up your throat, feeling ignored.

Right, you think, inhaling once and twice to ground yourself after that blanking bliss. The satin is damp under your hands and it holds onto your legs surprisingly well, latching onto the sweat that has formed between before and now. “What happened to me?” you ask, breathless.

He stands up from where he was leaning over the box, strolling over the small distance with a slight smirk and watchful eyes. “You get weak when we touch,” he explains with a drag of his words, “having your essence isn’t the most powerful feeling after all.”

“My essence?” The saliva in your mouth is grossly thick, vicious, and somewhat salty. You’re dehydrated. There’s a bottle of water on the bedside table and you gulp half of it down in one go, forgoing the need to breathe in exchange for the cool liquid. The preparation is oddly excessive but you appreciate it nonetheless, necking the second half after less than ten seconds of being out of breath.

He watches you drink with a clouded gaze. The glaze in his eyes have disappeared, black irises dulling in emotion before expanding beyond their circumference, colouring part of his whites. You stare as they change and take a deep breath to control the fearful confusion of the sight. The night was strange enough, anymore questioning and your head would explode. Your lips, swollen and wet with more than just his spit is a delightful sight and Haechan feels himself grow impatient. “Are you ready to continue?” he hurries, trying his best to hide the hunger in his chest.

Continue with what, you don’t know, but there was absolutely no way you could take sitting around and doing nothing under his intense stare for any longer. You nod and he’s in front of you in half a second, on his knees and leaning forward with his hands on your thighs for support. “Okay,” he drawls, setting fire to your skin as he examines every line of your features, “I’m going to touch you. Are you okay with that?”

With the pressure of his hands on your body yet again, you feel your chest constrict once more before panting out a yes. He notices the effect and removes his hands, asking a second time to receive the same response, this time from a clear head. With your cue to go, Haechan’s pushing himself against you with haste and dives in to press your lips together. You chase after him when he pulls away, desperate and empty without his kiss.

“I could smell you the moment you got into the elevator,” he lulls, licking his tongue over the warm expanse of your neck. His saliva was cold, shockingly so, and you chase the chilling moisture desperately. The sharp gasp you let out is embarrassingly loud but Haechan, feverish, soaks the sound up, fingers tightening their grip on your shoulders as he noses at your neck.

“Smell what?” you shiver, afraid of moving even an inch away from his touch. It was dangerously enchanting and you find yourself losing your sense again, giving your all to the greedy demon. Haechan wasn’t taking nearly as much as before, you feel yourself becoming impatient, needing the overwhelming sensation for as long as you can take it. He pulls away with the widest grin on his face, the entirety of his eyes completely painted over in deep black. A misty cloud of smoke, like the one he introduced himself in, begins to surround you.

“Your arousal, of course,” he chuckles. He stuffs his nose into your clavicle, tracing up the line of your shoulder to inhale deeply. “It’s astoundingly suffocating.” The action would be weird if not for the warmth that gathers in your belly, one that dissipates into sparks that race down your limbs in a pleasant buzz.

“Do you like it?” you shudder, throwing your head back as he sucks at a pressure point in the junction of your neck and shoulders.

“Oh, my babydoll,” he growls, gripping your chin with his thumb to stare into your eyes, forcing you to gaze into his black. The rest of the room turns black in your peripheral, partially masking the wings that have grown from his back, but you can’t take notice with how potently demanding his stare is, not allowing you to look away for even a second.

His fingers, with nails that have become tough and black, wander up and push against your lips, fighting for entry before you feel his skin, now leathery and hot enough to bubble, lays flat against your tongue. It feels like your mouth is about to melt away yet you couldn’t want anything other than to be in this exact moment. Haechan’s grin stretches from ear to ear, wider than the length between his horns, and still, the harrowing image does nothing to deter your want. He leans forward and mumbles with the same honey, sweet voice as before, “I more than like it. Your arousal is a gift from God himself.”

#haechan #haechan x reader #haechan smut #haechan fanfic #nct x reader #nct #nct fanfic #nct dream #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct dream fanfic #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 fanfic

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Chapter Two.

SERIES MASTERLIST | word count: 10.7k

come talk to me about wtsgd! i’d love to know your thoughts!

March 12, 2017 

It had been a week and a day since her move to New York, and Luci had never felt lonelier. Don’t get her wrong, she knew it’d only been a week when she had several more weeks to come to make friends and memories, but as she began to settle down into her new home, she felt very alone. 

Luci had called her parents approximately eight times within the past week—some of them were twice in one day—and all those calls were due to her loneliness. Ren and Beatrice were starting to get worried, and a bit annoyed despite being glad that their daughter hadn’t forgotten about them, but the calls were getting a little too much. And not much to their surprise, their Lulu always had something to talk about, which she mostly ranted about being a bit nervous and excited about rehearsals. 

Currently, Luci was headed to rehearsals as she walked to the Metropolitan Avenue Station, a two minute walk from her apartment in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Knowing her directions and the subway quite well, she got on the G train and got off in Court Square in Queens. She walked five minutes to take the F train towards Manhattan, getting off on 7th Avenue before walking down the street where Broadway Theatre appeared in her sight. 

Sighing, she thought about all the people she’d passed by. Seven train stops in total—people walking in and out of the train—less than ten minutes of walking, and despite the amount of people that rode with her on that train, she still felt like she was the loneliest person. 

She understood the big city quite well; no one really paid any attention or cared as they just proceeded with their life while simply being someone she passed by and possibly would never see again. Luci would only hope that her new job would help her make friendships and change her view on relationships a bit better; she’s had a few bad relationships in the past, romantic and non-romantic that had messed with her mind throughout the years, but she’d rather not think about the traumatic events that impactfully took a toll on her mental health as she was walking into rehearsals for the first time. 

Opening the door, she felt nerves rush through her body as she stepped into the Broadway Theatre where Miss Saigon would be in production for eight months. The theatre would be her home for the rest of the year. She’d work tirelessly, and devote her entire being to the role to be the best actress she could ever be. 

All at once as she walked through backstage, it began to hit Luci. This was what she’d been dreaming of, and the realization had hit her hard once she walked through the doors and into the dark hallway that led backstage and the dressing rooms. There was commotion in the direction of the main stage and a few of her fellow cast members that were singing, could easily be heard as she was walking through the halls. 

The behind the scenes action came to light once she walked through another doorway. Bright lights from the vanity illuminated the room, there were cast members reading from the script, and a few chatting on the couch. It was everything that she imagined and expected.

Luciana Suki was printed behind a black director’s chair next to the person who was playing the main role of Kim, Daisy Beck. Luci was a bit nervous to introduce herself to Daisy because she was one of the most iconic women on Broadway. She’d been acting on Broadway ever since she was a little girl; her mother was the head of the wardrobe crew and her father was part of the sound crew, so she practically bled and was born into the Broadway Theatre. It was easy for her to get her foot in the door because as her parents were busy, they would take her to the theatre and make her sit front row because they couldn’t afford a babysitter. And when the stage director needed a child to step in, they would have Daisy be in the show, and she would play the part effortlessly. She would stand center stage as the protagonist would sing to them while the bright light would shine upon them. Daisy Beck was a professional in all senses—she was the Meryl Streep of Broadway, and that intimidated Luci even more. 

“Hi, Daisy.” Luci greeted, making Daisy turn her head from the mirror to her. “I’m Luci, the second Kim.” She added with a soft chuckle. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Luci put her arm out as Daisy stood up from her chair, meeting face to face with her. 

Daisy’s expression held such power and confidence, and although Luci thought of herself as a confident person, Daisy was the different kind of confident; she was a different definition, a better use of a synonym that people most frequently use. She exuded the brilliance of self-assurance and certainty, like it was known to be that she had power. But then Daisy smiled brightly, making some of Luci’s worries wash away, but they were only stored nearby because the smile Daisy had on her face was more of an evil smirk. 

“Daisy Beck.” She introduced herself, quickly shaking Luci’s hand before pulling away just as quickly as the shake. Daisy sat back down at her vanity and placed her Airpods in her ears before her new cast member got another word out. 

Luci gulped, hanging her tote bag on the back of her chair before sitting down. She took a deep breath, easing her quiet nerves that were running around in her body. There was a bit of doubt in her mind about her career and the path she was on, but she quickly flicked it away, concentrating on the positive and the gratitude it took to get where she was, where she was sitting. 

After a few moments of relaxing, easing into the loudness, everyone began to file out the door and head to the stage. 

“Hi, Luci, right?” A brown-haired woman with hazel eyes beamed at Luci, and she couldn’t ignore such a friendly face. 

Luci smiled, shaking her hand. “Yeah, that’s me.” 

“I’m Nina. I play Gigi.” Gigi Van Trahn was a stripper in Miss Saigon at a club called Dreamland, hoping and dreaming for a better life in the States. “Is this your first Broadway show?” She asked curiously. 

Luci shook her head. “I’ve done some shows off-broadway, if you can count that.” She smiled bashfully. She knew that she shouldn’t be embarrassed by being part of the off-broadway community because she had worked her way up, but she hated the weird eyes pointed at her and the whispered judgement everytime she said that she’d been on off-broadway, even though nothing was wrong with it, but for some reason, people had a certain distaste towards it. 

“Yeah, that definitely counts! You should be proud of your upcoming; it’ll be historic once you move your way up.” Nina raised her brows and smirked. Luci smiled, breathing out a giggle. She loved when people were so hopeful of her climbing the ladder of success and dreams, and it made Luci giddy, if she was being honest. 

Everyone made a distorted line across the stage, facing the thousands of red velvet cushioned chairs that would be the cast’s audience. The stage director, Tal, was standing downstage with a clipboard in her hand as she was talking to her assistant and pointing to the clipboard with a pen; the taps of her pen to the wooden clipboard echoed in the silent theatre. Tal was in her mid-forties; she had slick black hair, wore black framed glasses, and had a certain look of sternness that was made for scolding and confronting. Luci made a mental note to not get on her bad side because if looks could kill, then she’d see the light. 

A minute later, they concluded their discussion before looking up. “Good morning, everyone! And we’re back here…again.” A coordinated laugh spread through the cast. “For the people returning: hope you all didn’t forget about me.” A small chuckle erupted. “But we have a couple new faces, so I’ll make this introduction brief and quick; I’m Tal, your stage director. I’ve been working in this business for a long time, so I know what I’m doing. This is my assistant Melanie, she’s just as educated and devoted to this play as I am, so if I’m unavailable, don’t hesitate to take things  up with her.” Everyone nodded understandingly. “This is going to be a wild, stressful ride, but it’s gonna be a hell of a lot of fun, I can promise you that.” 

A few ‘Hell yeah and ‘Period’s flew across the stage as people praised her words. Luci immediately felt comfortable with the space and energy that came from her fellow castmates. She was worried that she would have a constant feeling of being uncomfortable or as if she didn’t belong. But with Nina being so friendly, Tal and the cast uplifting and motivating the room, and minus Daisy’s weird and short attitude, she couldn’t help but feel like she did belong and that this was where she was meant to be. 

Tal told everyone to get into a large circle to do a role call because there were a few new additions to the cast as the original cast before this day had departed from the production because there was either a better opportunity or it was time to say goodbye to this show. 

After Tal individually called each name, the person was to introduce themselves, say what part they were playing, and a hobby they indulged in when they were not on stage. Usually, people didn’t pay attention to icebreakers and introductions because many found them boring, but Luci made sure to be attentive and memorize everyone’s names and faces since she was one of the few who was new to the cast and production. She also tried remembering their hobbies because she figured it would be a great conversation starter while trying to make friends. 

It took quite a while to get to everyone, especially Luci since she was towards the bottom of the list because of her last name. 

“Luciana,” Tal called out. Luci raised her hand, presenting herself with a smile. “Welcome to Miss Saigon.” 

Luci stepped forwards a few inches inside of the circle. “Thank you, Tal and Melanie. Uh, my name is Luciana Suki, you could call me Luci, if you’d like. I’m playing Kim, alongside Miss Daisy Beck.” She looked at Daisy when she said her name, but Daisy had an unamused look on her face, but Luci ignored it. “A hobby of mine when I’m not constantly thinking about my job is knitting—I like to knit. Hats and scarves are my specialty and I have way too many in my closet for my own good, but I’m currently working on a cardigan and will do it for an hour if I have time.” Everyone clapped when she was done, and she stepped back out of the circle and into the line. 

Next on the role call list was Samuel Talum, who had been making serious eye contact with Luci, but she avoided them, looking elsewhere. 

“Hi, I’m Samuel. I play the second Chris. My hobbies include swimming on the roof of Soho.” Everyone laughed, but Luci didn’t seem to see what was so amusing about that, but she figured that was his personality since everyone found that hilarious. 

Samuel looked at Luci as he stepped back into line, and this time, she reciprocated the eye contact. Her arms were crossed, face expressionless, which only made him smirk. 

After introductions, Melanie suggested getting into groups to have a normal conversation to get to know one another and get more comfortable. The circle was concaving as the opposite sides were met. The theatre increased in volume and was filled with chatter and excited squeals; people hugged one another and jumped in circles, hopeful for another great season on Broadway. 

Luci and Nina talked with some of the extras as they mostly asked Luci about her life and where she was from since everyone already knew each other. 

“Hello, ladies.” Samuel walked up to the four women with a charming smile. The three immediately swooned for him as their eyes lit up as if he was the actual Oscar award himself. “Luci, it’s a pleasure to officially meet you.” He gave his full attention to her, taking his hand out. She politely shook his, not expecting him to kiss the back of her hand, locking eyes with her. She hated to admit it, but the action made her heart pound a little harder. Luci pulled away quickly, linking her hands behind her back. 

“Good to meet you as well.” She gave him a small toothless smile. Avoiding his eyes, she looked back at the girls who were blushing and giving Luci a knowing look. They knew Samuel well enough to know when he had a crush, and they could definitely tell that he had a crush on her, to which Luci had a clear vision of it. 

When the first day of ‘rehearsals’ were over, Tal announced that it was the same time tomorrow, and Luci was glad that she was finally had a routine again—waking up at eight in the morning to get her day started and leaving her apartment by nine to get to the theatre just before ten, which was when rehearsals started. Tomorrow’s rehearsals were going to be exciting since it would focus more on the play itself; Luci was itching for tomorrow to come. 

Once Luci walked out of the theatre, saying her goodbyes to Tal and Melanie, and some of the cast that she made friends with, she was met by a fresh, chilly breeze, making goosebumps rise. It was the complete opposite of what she felt like inside the theatre: warm and flushed because there were so many people surrounding her, plus her nerves helped her stay warm; it didn’t help that they cranked up the heat inside the building as well. 

As she was walking, passing by strangers that she’d never see again, she heard her name being called out from the distance. She thought she was hearing things, but she turned around to be met with Samuel who was jogging in her direction. 

“Damn, you left quickly.” He smiled, which Luci had to admit that he was quite attractive—really attractive. A head of soft blonde hair sat perfectly on his head that if she were to mess with it, his hair would only get effortlessly better. His arms were so big and toned that she could see the outline of his muscles through his shirt (or she thinks that he purposely bought a small shirt to make up for the lack of muscles). He was tall, almost a foot taller than her that she had to look up when he spoke, but she didn’t let his height intimidate her. In fact, nothing about Samuel intimidated Luci, although she knew that that was his ultimate goal whenever he met someone new.

“Uh, yeah.” 

“I was thinking…we should hang out sometime.” The suggestion made Luci raise her brows. “You know, since we’re gonna be seeing each other a lot, be co-stars, play the love interest together.” 

Chris Scott, the role Samuel was playing, was a G.I sergeant who is making a return to America from Vietnam. Unexpectedly, he falls in love with Kim, who is a shy, young girl who also works as a stripper at Dreamland because of the fall of her city and the loss of her family from war. The club is run by the Engineer and caters to American soldiers. Kim and Chris have an affair, leading to feelings that are more than lust. Their affair leads to Kim getting pregnant and giving birth to their son, Tam. Eventually, Chris leaves and goes back home without the knowledge that Kim is pregnant. Kim and Chris are separated for years until he learns about his son, so he goes back to Vietnam to find Kim and Tam—the only difference is that he’s married to an American woman named Ellen. Kim urges Ellen that Tam should have a better life in America, rather than living on the streets, but Ellen is wary and refuses because she doesn’t want to lose Chris. Conflict, heartbreak, and unexpected endings flow throughout the plot of the story, making it a hit on Broadway. 

Luci debated in her mind. She figured she could use some friends, some company, and she thinks it worked out perfectly since she was going to be seeing Samuel almost everyday. He got the impression that she wanted nothing to do with him outside of the theatre because of the polite but dismissive attitude towards him, but the look on her face when he proposed the idea was the opposite of what he had seen inside of the building. 

To much consideration, Luci answered, “Sure, why not.” 

Samuel sneered, walking alongside with her to wherever their route took them. It wasn’t like he was up to no good—purposely, at least. So, the two walked side by side, oblivious to what this might cause them. 

April 21, 2017 

Opening night. 

The anxieties were crawling up everyone’s skin as they got into hair, makeup, and costume—specifically in that order. Everything felt rushed, like they were riding in a sports car, waiting to cross the black and white checkered line. But in reality, they were going the speed limit in a residential area. 

Tal and Melanie made sure everyone got to the theatre at least two hours before the red curtain rose because she didn’t want everything to feel like they’re in a high-speed car chase, anticipating a crash. 

The past five weeks had been an exhausting and intense thrill that Luci had never experienced before. The constant movement, the strain of her voice from singing too much, the tears from messing up a line, and the overwhelming fear of screwing up on stage had been her life for the past five weeks. 

The day after introductions and icebreakers, the cast were to do a read through of the play, just to get an idea and feel of the script when rehearsing it with the cast. Since there were two rotations of the cast, the second cast—which was the one Luci was in—were to still attend readings and rehearsals when it was not their day to rehearse. They were to observe and learn the different techniques and acting that the first rotation provided so it would be easier to run through rehearsals without constantly stopping. 

After the read through, which took two days, the rest of the week was followed by table work and blocking. Table work deeply goes into the script; it focuses on analyzing and getting to know your character—basically what purpose a character has. Blocking included roughly running through a scene organically, and seeing what works for both actors and what looks and feels better. 

When the notes have been written down, the actors will stumble through the play without a script in reach. This process had slashed a bit of hope in everyone because of the difficulty in remembering the notes from blocking. Luci was properly beating herself up over it, and Samuel had reassured her that it was fine to make a few mistake since it was new and added in during blocking.

“Hey,” Samuel would call out after hearing another groan come out of her mouth. Luci would look at him with a frown, and he would comfortingly pat her shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, okay? You got this.” He would then walk away, giving her a wink that made Luci’s insides turn. 

After three days of roughly stumbling through the play, working rehearsals were next. Everyone knew their lines, stage directions, the plot and depth of the characters, and the extra notes from blocking were implied to everyone’s brain. During working rehearsals, the cast needed to find a way to best tell the story to the audience. They worked in a large room that was a few blocks away from the theatre, and it had white tape all over the floor indicating where the character needed to stand. There was no mirror, just a blank wall that was painted black, so it was like they were in the actual theatre. The process was exhausting because the cast would run the entire play back for two more times for three days. So, when Luci got home, it would be five in the evening, and she would be ready to crash and call it a day. 

In between working and dress rehearsals, the tech-crew, stage directors, stage managers, and designers would have their own rehearsals without the cast. They do this to make sure the lighting, music, and set were in motion and work smoothly for the play and audience. During these days, the cast would get a few days off, but they were to not brush the play aside just because they weren’t in rehearsals. They were told to do fittings with the costume crew so they could make their final adjustments for their character’s costumes. It was a more fun and light process where they could just stand on the elevated step and answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ when they’re being asked if it was comfortable or too tight. 

After technical rehearsals, there would be two or three days for Q2Q rehearsals, which meant Cue-to-Cue, and the technical crew and the cast would get together and rehearse the bits where sound and lights were needed, which is almost every scene since it’s a musical and the characters seem to sing as they’re arguing. These rehearsals were very technical and necessary, and it needed to be executed with precision, so the cast and sound crew would be on the same page and in sync. 

Dress rehearsals were more of a sigh in relief. It showcased everyone’s hard work and talent, but it was also a surreal moment because even though they worked and rehearsed every single day for this production, it still didn’t seem real. The few days of dress rehearsals hit the actors in the face because everything was coming together. Tal had let a few groups of people into the theatre to watch and give them a preview of the show so the cast had an audience to perform to during dress rehearsals. 

And the moment everyone had been waiting for: Opening Night. 

The audience was filling the theatre in as security ushered them to their seats. Some took a picture in front of the stage, the influencers held the Playbill program out in front of them, capturing the renaissance theme of the Broadway theatre to post on their Instagram story, and couples who were there for date night. Not to forget, the important journalists, who hyped this play up way before opening night, that were going to critique and judge all throughout the show; they were sitting in the mezzanine, only the best seats in the house as it provided a panoramic view of the entire stage, so they didn’t miss a thing. Broadway critics could be the most hurtful writers, and they have a way of letting people down in the most elegant and sophisticated way that made it seem like their words aren’t so bad. 

Backstage was twice as chaotic as it was on the outside. Although everyone was quiet, humming and whispering the songs, the inside of their minds were driving them crazy. If someone outside of the production who didn't have anything to do with the play, walked into the room, they would immediately feel the tension bouncing off the walls and breaking the mirrors of the vanities. 

Even though it was the first rotation that would be performing today, Luci still felt incredibly nervous because anything could happen. Daisy could get sick or not want to perform, so it would be Luci who would have to step in, unless Tal tells the understudy to. Aside from the nerves, she felt incredibly proud of everyone and her own hard work. Rehearsing for about five hours—sometimes she would stay longer just to get extra help—had tired her out, but she knew that once it was her turn to step on stage, the exhaustion and stress would be completely worth it, and that would be when she knew she made it. 

Luci was in one of the dressing rooms, and she heard a knock as she was buttoning her shirt that was just for show when there was a zipper on the back of her top so it was easier to change when she was in a hurry. She opened the door, revealing Samuel. 

“Hi,” he greeted, getting in the dressing room with her before he closed it behind him. The space was small, so the two were pressed up against one another. He placed a hand on her waist as the other rested against the wall behind her, leaning down to kiss her lips. “How are you?” 

Luci smiled when he pulled away. “Good. You?” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. 

“Better, now.” He kissed the top of her head and Luci softly smiled, not used to the amount of PDA, even though they were somewhat in private. 

Luci’s just as confused on how she was able to pull Samuel. After the first day of rehearsals when he caught up to her on the sidewalk and asked her to hangout, she found out that he was actually a really outgoing guy; she didn’t expect herself to laugh or actually enjoy herself when she said yes to his invitation. 

After the first week of rehearsals, Tal had directed them to be more connected to their characters—to really feel what they’re feeling. This only enhanced their chemistry as love interests, making them closer. And on Wednesday evening, Samuel invited her over to his apartment. He knew what he wanted when he asked Luci to his place, and he really didn’t want to mess with her feelings, so he decided to be honest. 

“Luci, listen. I just really want to fuck you,” he confessed straightforwardly, making Luci gulp. No one’s ever really admitted that fact to her, so it was quite surprising to hear as well as hot, if she was being honest. “I mean, I like you, of course I do. But I really don’t want a relationship right now, and we’re both stressed with rehearsals, so wanna fuck?” 

He was right, she thought. She was stressed with rehearsals and the move, which she hadn’t even gotten the chance to buy proper furniture because she’s been so busy and also broke, so she could use a good fuck. 

And she told him the same thing when she accepted his offer to hangout; she said, “Sure, why not.” 

So, they’d been messing around ever since then—for the past five weeks. They had kept it on the downlow as he respected Luci’s wishes for not wanting to risk losing her first job on Broadway and have this ‘affair’ affect getting more roles. Samuel reassured her that people date and mess around off stage all the time—Luci raised her brows in suspicion since it was not his first rodeo—but he still kept the affection to a minimum when they were around people, no matter how difficult it was for him. 

He leaned down to kiss her neck, leaving small kisses. “Hmm. Can’t wait to take you back to mine after tonight.” Samuel toyed with the zipper that was stitched on the back of her top. 

“Yeah?” She smirked when he felt him nod against her. 

He lightly nibbled her skin, making her softly gasp. “Gonna make you feel so good.” As lovely as that sounded, she couldn’t risk getting caught in the dressing room, so she pushed him away, earning a small groan that came out of his mouth. 

“How about you save that for next week when it’s our actual opening night?” She said seductively, biting her lip as she refrained from laughing at his eager state. 

“Fine, if you say so. Just know that you’re missing out tonight.” He teased, giving her a peck to her lips before quickly slipping out of the dressing room before anyone saw him. 

Luci looked in the mirror, fixing her hair and taking a deep breath to rid the warmth of her cheeks that Samuel caused. Once she was presentable, smoothing out the creases of her costume, she headed out and heard that there was ten minutes until showtime. 

Everyone was running around with a small flashlight that guided them through the dark backstage. The cast were getting last minute adjustments to their costume and makeup, a last minute run-through with their lines, and warming their vocals up as some of the technical crew were taping a small microphone to the side of their cheek. 

The second rotation cast stayed back, hanging out for moral support for the main cast as it was a huge night for them. Luci was somewhat glad that she wasn’t part of the first cast because she felt like she could still use a lot of work in some scenes, so she had at least a week to get those scenes perfect. 

As the crew walked back, Luci could hear the crew talk to one another through their headset, asking one another if things were set and if everyone was ready to go; the seats were mostly filled, just a few empty seats that were waiting to be filled by the people who were running late. 

“Ready.”

“All set.” 

“Alright, everyone, it’s showtime.” 

The lights went down for a brief minute and a half, making sure the theatre was quiet from people being excited and startled when the room had gone dark, and then the red velvet curtains were pulled to the sides of the stage and the sheer screen was lifted. The orchestra began to play a soft melody as the opening scene started in Dreamland Bar. 

Despite having seen the play multiple times during rehearsals and rehearsing it herself, she was in awe as she watched her cast members in action—true action with an audience in front of them and a very bright light that was shining directly on them. Luci had seen many Broadway productions, but getting to watch it from the side of the stage and actually being part of the production was just something so surreal to her. 

The final scene was coming to an end; the orchestra intensified their music, the lights dimmed, the curtain closed, and the audience clapped—most of the room had given Miss Saigon a standing ovation. The curtain opened once more and the cast ran out to wave and blow kisses at the audience as the volume increased once it had gotten to Daisy Beck, the icon herself. 

And just like that, five weeks of rehearsals and devotion, opening night was over. Luci couldn’t wait until next week because she could practically see the thrill and adrenaline that radiated off of her co-worker’s face, and that was a feeling she had been anticipating for. 

Luci hugged the cast, congratulating them on their special, opening night. Everyone took pictures and videos with one another as they held bouquets of flowers. 

“Daisy!” Luci called out once she approached her. Daisy turned around to be met with Luci’s arms wide open. She gave an emotionless smile, half-hugging Luci shortly as she only leaned her upper body against her but pulled away very quickly. “You did such an amazing job. I was so in awe of you on stage!” Luci exclaimed excitedly. 

“Thank you.” Just like any other actor, no matter how much someone despised a person, they always took the compliment no matter what; it helped their egos grow in size, especially if it was from someone they couldn’t stand. 

“You’re truly so magnificent up there…” As Luci was talking, Daisy’s eyes averted towards the corner where Samuel was standing; he was talking with some of the girls that played strippers at the club in the show. His eyes looked up, meeting Daisy’s eyes before he smirked and brought his attention back to the girls. The corner of her lip turned up, smirking as she felt herself blush from Samuel’s look. 

Daisy and Samuel had some history together in the past. They go way back, all the way back to five years ago when they had roles in Chicago on Broadway. Just like any other cast members, they took a liking towards each other, and eventually got quite close. They both thought that their feelings were plain lust, but it was more of an emotional connection, so they tried being together and it lasted for a while until there were scandals and rumors going around that Daisy had been taking drugs just because she was seen partying with Samuel. The rumors eventually caught up to her, making her skin crawl and blood boil. So, she needed to be selfish and called it quits with him because her career was her pride and joy, and it was the most important thing to her at the time when she was just twenty-two. 

When Daisy found out that Samuel was on board as the cast in Miss Saigon, she was absolutely thrilled because her feelings for him had never dissolved. And the main reason why she was annoyed with Luci on her first day was because she knew that Samuel was going to take a liking towards Luci, which he did; and now, Daisy was aggravated because she wanted her man back but he was too busy occupying himself with Luci. 

Daisy looked back at Luci, pretending to pay attention to what she was saying. Luckily, someone had politely interrupted them, asking Daisy to do an interview with one of the journalists that critiqued the show, which she was ecstatic about. 

When the theatre was empty, everyone left to go to an after party, which was at a posh cocktail lounge—a ten minute walk from the theatre and quite close to Central Park South—so everyone decided to walk; the adrenaline they still had kept them warm in the thirty six degree weather. It was quite late since they left the theatre at around eleven, so Luci decided that she wouldn’t stay long since her commute back home was still further than some of her co-workers. 

The lounge was on the seventh floor of the W Hotel, and it screamed chic and expensive. It was separated into two open rooms, giving complete opposite vibes from each other. The more sophisticated and chic section of the room was filled with grey suede, cushioned sofa chairs with clean glass coffee tables placed in between those chairs. A black grand piano sat in the corner of the room with a large vase of fresh pink lilies and a few vanilla scented candles that were spread across the top of the piano. On one side of the wall were three semi-private booths with cushioned walls and a hexagon-shaped booth with LED lights surrounding the shape. 

The second room, however, was where the full bar was. Something that caught Luci’s, and most people’s, attention was the bright sign that covered the entire wall behind the bar top and the bottles of alcohol. The light blue and red colored lights illuminated the entire section of the room. The bar room had the same type of sofas and tables with a chill-beat type of music that played through the speakers. 

Peter, who played the first ‘Chris,’ had ordered everyone tequila shots; which naturally, made everyone happy as they cheered. Luci couldn’t remember the last time she went to the bar with some friends and completely enjoyed herself; all that had been on her mind before the move was the move itself, auditioning for the play, and her anxieties that came with moving to a city where she knew no one. So, a shot of tequila was very rewarding for her first proper night out in New York City. 

“To a successful opening night! We’re gonna be back here when the second rotation gets their spotlight.” Peter saluted as everyone clinked their shot glasses together; Nina took a video of her and Luci to post on her Instagram story with Luci’s username and the longue tagged in the corner before downing the toxic liquid down their throats.  

Everyone talked amongst themselves when Samuel placed his hand on Luci’s thigh. She quickly turned her head towards him, subtly pushing his hand off of it. He met her eyes, smirking and tilted his head as if he was saying that they should go into the bathroom, but Luci shook her head no, denying his silent request. Samuel rolled his eyes, averting his attention on the rest of the group, and Luci didn’t miss the way he shifted farther from her on the couch. 

Luci was four shots in and she felt a slight buzz run through her head. The waiters were placing more drinks down on their table, but Luci knew she needed to get home, so she decided to call it a night and say her goodbyes to the group. She knew everyone lived relatively close to the theatre and the longue, so she didn’t expect anyone to take the subway with her so late in the night. What she did expect was for Samuel to offer her to spend the night or even walk her to the train station, but he simply waved at her, no private hug or kiss goodbye. So, she left without another word and walked over to the 57th Street Station and took the F Train down to Rockefeller Center where she had to get off and transfer over to the M Train that would take her towards Middle Village-Metropolitan Avenue, and eventually, home. 

On the train, Luci busied herself with a word search that was downloaded on her phone, afraid that she might end up falling asleep on the subway, until the subway stopped at the station she needed to get off at and walked home. 

The click of her heeled boots were quite loud against the wooden floor in the hallway that led to her front door. She lugged her tote bag on her shoulder, fumbling with her keys until she got to her doorstep. Briefly glancing at the neighbor’s door right across from her before turning her back towards it and opening her own, the door behind her suddenly opened. 

Luci quickly turned around, expecting her cute and attractive neighbor, but instead, revealed a woman with red hair, hurriedly putting her coat on. The woman smiled at her, and for a moment, Luci thought she was on the wrong floor, but behind the woman was Harry in a black long sleeve sweater and khaki flared pants. His chocolate brown hair had looked like he ran his fingers through it so many times that it sat effortlessly messy, but Luci didn’t know that the red-haired lady had done it for him. 

She was quite in shock to see him, even though she’d known he lived right across from her. For the time she had been living in New York, she’d barely even gotten a glimpse of him; either their schedules weren't aligned or he was avoiding her. It wasn’t like she was trying to catch him when he walked out of his apartment or in the elevator—maybe she was—but a few neighborly chats were all that she wanted. 

“Hi,” Luci greeted once the woman rounded the corner and away from both of their attentions. 

“Hey, Luci.” Harry softly smiled. 

They both stood in their entryways, awkwardly staring at one another as they didn’t know what else to say. The neighborly chats had gone so much better in her head, and she was mentally rolling her eyes at herself for freezing up so suddenly. 

But luckily, Harry broke the silence. 

“Long night?” 

Luci smiled. “Yeah, kind of. Just came from an afterparty.” 

“Hmm, what was the party for?” Harry raised his chin, puckering his lips slightly. Luci glanced down at his lips, observing how naturally pink they were, or if the lady’s lipstick had transferred over to his. 

She was quite surprised that he was still carrying the conversation, or maybe he was just as nosy as she was. 

“It was for Miss Saigon, the play on Broadway. Today was our official opening night.” She fiddled with her fingers, completely leaning her side against the doorframe. 

Harry slightly nodded. “I’d have to watch it sometime.” 

Now, that brightened Luci up, almost sobering her. She beamed at him, and Harry couldn’t deny the slight blush that appeared on his face once she so stunningly smiled at him. He pursed his lips, refraining from smiling so widely just from the mere sight of her grin. 

“Yes, please do!” He smiled at her excitement before nodding his head. 

A few awkward seconds passed, and Luci had the need to lie down after the day that she had. So, she sat straight up from her leaning position, placing her hand where she was resting to balance herself. “Well, I should get some rest.” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” He stood up straight as well, taking a step back into his apartment as his hand held the door handle. “Sleep well, Luci.” 

“You too, Harry. Goodnight.” A yawn took over her and she covered her mouth instantly. “Oh, Harry?” She called out, catching him before he closed the door. He raised his brows, her voice stopped him from shutting the door. “Maybe we could hang out sometime? I could use some friends and you seem really nice,” she suggested. 

Maybe it was the slightest buzz that was wearing off, making her have the need to use up all the rest of the confidence she could gather up in her body and spew out the suggestion. 

But whatever it was, she was glad that she did because Harry answered, “I’d like that.” She gave him a lazy smile, eyes drooping, and Harry knew that she needed to sleep. 

After another bid goodnight, the neighbors both closed their doors for a night’s rest, but not before they both smiled into their pillow and replayed their conversation over and over in their head. 

April 29, 2017 

It was Saturday evening when Luci walked into the Broadway Theatre with the biggest smile she’d ever made in her life. Ignoring the nerves, she was back in the chaos and nervous tension the large theatre held for her very first Broadway show. 

She spent the entire day preparing herself just so everything went smoothly. Her alarm woke her up at 7:30 a.m so she could take a walk around the neighborhood for a fresh start to her day. The sky started out as gloomy while the sun was just waking up as well; and the parts of the neighborhoods that she passed were quiet—the only thing that was heard were the honking cars over the birds flapping their wings above her—since it was the weekend and everyone loved sleeping in on the weekend. 

Luci was still discovering new things, such as stores, dining, and secret passageways while her Nike running shoes padded against the cement of the sidewalk; that's what she loved about New York—there was always something new she’d discover in this city, and it was a never ending journey that never failed to make her gasp and giddy. 

She stopped at a smoothie place before walking back to her apartment; and when she got to her front door, she looked at Harry’s, which she seemed to make a habit out of every time she walked in and out of her apartment, and she wondered if he was awake at this time—he seemed like a morning person, she thought. She debated knocking on his door before she left to go to the theatre to tell her that she was finally performing tonight, but she decided against it, wanting to hang out with him at some place else rather than her workplace. 

After making herself a breakfast to go along with her drink, she took a shower and made sure to take extra care of her skin and body since today was such an important day for her; she wanted to feel good so she could look good, especially for tonight. 

In between brunch hours, her mother called, making her squeal. 

“Hello, mother!” She couldn’t contain her excitement over the phone. 

“Oh, hi, My Lucky! How are you?” Luci could hear the bustling street through the phone as they walked through the city. Ren and Beatrice had flown into New York to watch her on stage as promised; Nathan was planning to fly into the city after work as well. Luci offered to pick them up at the airport, which required a car that she didn’t have, but they decided against it, knowing that she had a specific routine before a show and they didn’t want to interfere with that pattern. 

“Oh, y’know, just doing nothing. Boring, plain, old me,” she joked, making Beatrice chuckle. 

“How’re you handling your nerves?” 

Beatrice always knew that inside the confident exterior that Luci had always presented herself with, there was still a shy and nervous girl that was always so hard on herself. 

“I’m okay, Ma. More excited than nervous, I think, but y’know, once it’s minutes away from showtime, I’m gonna be a nervous mess,” Luci stated honestly, nibbling on the corner of her lip. She got herself comfortable on her forest green sofa that turned into a bed, and draped the tan, soft plush blanket over her legs. Her apartment was finally coming together, and she was thankful for her few days off of work so she could make her apartment feel like home. 

“I know you’ll do great. Plus, all of us are gonna be in the crowd supporting you.” Beatrice encouraged her. “Anyways, I can’t walk and talk at the same time, especially when we’re walking through people, but I just wanted to check up on you. So, I’ll let you go and we’ll see you later! Oh, your father says hi and that he loves you. Bye, my star. Shine your heart.” 

Her mother always talked like she was in a hurry, but it never failed to make Luci smile—it was as if Luci was listening to a voicemail, or remembered a fond memory, or looking at a photograph; Beatrice was a timeless treasure, Ren would say. 

The rest of the day went by smoothly; Luci mostly watched some television on her iPad since she didn’t have a TV yet, caught up on some reading, and lightly went through her lines and quietly sang the songs. Once it hit 3:30, she was out the door and on the subway by 3:45. 

When she walked into the dressing room where everyone was getting ready, her cast members looked at her warily with sympathetic eyes. Luci was confused, but she figured that everyone was just nervous, so she sat down at her vanity and was surprised to see Daisy sitting next to her. She thought that Daisy wouldn’t be here for Luci’s opening night and she was more surprised to see that Daisy was getting ready as she didn’t just want to stand on the sidelines, waiting for Luci to screw up to step right in. 

“Hey,” Luci greeted with a smile, but Daisy simply ignored her, going back to do her makeup. Luci slightly frowned but shrugged it off before she sat down. 

A few moments later, Tal came into the dressing room. 

“Luci,” she called out, making her look up into the mirror, meeting Tal’s eyes. “Can we talk for a minute?” Luci nodded, eyes slightly widening like she was a deer in headlights. She followed Tal out of the dressing room and into a more private room down the hall. 

She crossed her arms as a breeze passed by, sending a chill down Luci’s skin and she wished she had grabbed her jacket on the way out. “What’s up?” 

Tal took a deep breath, not knowing how to break the news to her newest cast member. “So, there’s been a change for tonight,” she started, and Luci wondered if Samuel wasn’t going to play Chris tonight but instead, Peter or the understudy, Michael. Tal looked up, thinking about her words carefully and how to say her words as gently as possible. “Daisy is gonna perform tonight.” 

She wished she hadn’t spoken so soon on how smoothly her day was going. 

Luci stared at her mindlessly, blinking a few times. She felt like she was hearing things or dreaming, like her words hadn’t processed correctly in her brain. But when Tal was giving her a certain look of guilt, that was when Luci knew that her mind wasn’t making anything up. 

“W-What?” 

“I know it was supposed to be your night to perform, but Daisy said that she wanted to perform tonight…” Luci could tell that Tal was holding back on more information. “She said that she doesn’t feel like she needed to rest, so she’s gonna perform every night until she says so.” 

Tears were forming over Luci’s eyes and it suddenly became difficult for her to see or hear. She curled her lips into her mouth, refraining a sob that was settling in the base of her throat. 

“She knows, right? That it’s my night to perform?” 

Tal nodded. “Yeah, she knows quite clearly. I even reminded her, and we got into this argument; she basically told me to choose between her and you, and-” 

“It’s okay,” Luci interrupted, not wanting to hear the rest of that sentence because she knew that Tal had chosen Daisy, which she didn’t blame Tal for doing because why would anyone choose between the face of Broadway and some actress that no one even knows about? Tal knew that she didn’t have any power over Daisy even though it was Tal’s show and she was the stage director. 

“Luci, I’m sorry. You’re free to go home though, if anyone is gonna step in, then it’ll be Wendy.” Daisy told Tal that she’d rather have the understudy step into her place if anything happened, and who was Tal to say no to her?

Luci nodded sadly, putting her head down for a moment before she looked up. Tal had the same look Luci had on her face because Tal genuinely felt bad that this had to happen. Luci walked away and back into the dressing room to once again, meet everyone’s dreadful stare. She grabbed her belongings, and Daisy pretended to not notice that Luci was there. 

She felt a surge of anger running through her body as she looked at Daisy, and she was not one to let things happen to her without defending herself. What she was going to do could possibly cause Luci her job and maybe any role that she comes across her path because that’s how much power Daisy had, but the power Daisy exposed and portrayed didn’t make her any more powerful than she thought it did. 

“If you’re the reason that’s depriving me of my job, then how about you tell me that. Don’t have people doing that for you because if you really wanted me out of the show, then you would’ve told that to my face right when you met me.” Daisy continued looking into the mirror, but she was alert to Luci’s words. Everyone in the room was silent, listening to the confrontation happening right in front of them. “Just sitting there and not having the urge to look me in the eye and tell me yourself is just downright cowardness.” 

Without another word, Luci left the room, passing by Nina on the way out, asking if she was okay and Luci muttered ‘Yeah, fine’ before huffing out a sarcastic laugh and walking out of the theatre. She felt bad for giving her friend such a cold and short attitude, and she only hoped Nina understood why she was acting that way.

Suddenly, everything felt very…loud. On the outside, there were honking cars, people shouting at those road ragers, and the harsh wind that blew through her ears. All of that contributed to the loud thoughts running through her head, the disappointment of her hopes had made her feel dizzy, and the heartache of her crushed dreams had made her heart sink. Everything had gone smoothly up until now, and she hated herself for thinking this was all too good to be true. 

Luci clutched at her chest as if she was holding her heart in the palm of her hand, signaling it to slow down its erratic beating because she couldn’t keep up. If she had felt heartbreak in the past by dumb boys who didn’t know how to treat her right, the pain that she felt did not compare to having her dream being crushed and ripped away from her in the split of a second. 

Sure, she may be dramatic in that moment, but it was everything that she was feeling and it was a valid feeling. She felt like the world was against her and she was perplexed on how to operate this minor section of her life. 

“Luci?” Through the midst of her chaotic and saddened mind, the voice that called her sounded quite familiar. She turned around, finding Harry standing a distance away from her before he walked forward. 

“Harry…” Her tone was calm as she breathed out a sigh of relief, but her exhale was staggered. Tears glossed over her eyes, making her neighbor and the bright lights blurry, only seeing colored spots until she blinked and her vision cleared up as the tears streamed down her face. 

“I thought it was you. Aren’t you—oh.” Harry was interrupted by the collision of her body as she wrapped her arms around his waist, loudly sobbing in his chest. Usually, she wasn’t like this; she wasn’t one to cry in front of people or show any emotion that she was truly hurt—it just wasn’t her. But she could no longer pretend like the events that happened prior didn't happen, and she really needed some comfort, a hug, anything. 

Luci felt his hesitancy when his arms wrapped around her body, and she felt bad for hugging him without permission, but her comfort had taken priority. When he eventually did take her fragile and shaking body in his arms, it did everything she was looking for justice. The embrace was warm, even when it was cold and windy out; the hug seemed to have warmed both of them up. A sense of safety, and a complete sigh of relief came to mind where Luci felt like she could take a breather for a slight moment. His strong, muscular arms wrapped so perfectly around her that Harry felt like it was him who needed this hug instead of her, but he wouldn’t admit that because she was clearly being vulnerable in front of him, despite just talking less than a handful of times. 

She pulled away, and he suddenly missed the warmth of her body for a split second before his attention turned to her wiping her tears away. 

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked concerningly. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry for just hugging you out of nowhere, I-I should’ve asked.” Harry stared deeply in her eyes, and even in the state that she was in, her eyes were still bright; the lucidity of the bright lights outside of the theatre sparkled in her eyes, and it made him smile at how beautiful she looked even when she was crying. 

He snapped out of his thoughts, realizing that he hadn't answered her yet. “No, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. Just…are you okay?” His concern for her made her feel slightly better. 

“I’m good now. Uh, thank you for the hug,” she said bashfully; he gave her a soft smile, nodding his head. “W-What are you up to tonight?” 

“Oh, uh,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “I actually came to watch the play. You mentioned you were in it right?”

Luci’s expression softened. “You came to see me?” She felt like she could cry all over again at the fact that he was at Broadway Theatre to see her perform; her heart flipped instantly. Harry nodded, placing his hands in his black pinstripe trousers. “Well, it’s a good thing you caught me out here before you went in because you’d be disappointed to not see me when the show starts.” He furrowed his brows in confusion, tilting his head to the side like a lost puppy. “It’s a long story…if you have time?” 

Immediately, Luci knew she wanted to keep spending time with him, and she hoped he felt the same. Plus, she was in a vulnerable state, and she needed someone to be with her. 

Harry was hesitant at first, but he realized that she probably needed to vent to someone, so he responded, “Yeah, sure.” 

She smiled softly, wiping the excess tears off her face before walking further away from the theatre; Luci texted her parents and brother in the family group chat saying: not performing tonight :( so I won't be at the theatre. I'll explain later. Seconds later, they blew up her phone with a thread of ‘WHAT?!’ and naturally, Nathan sent a series of curses, making Beatrice scold him in the chat for his language.  

Harry and Luci walked until they landed on a Burger & Fry joint near Times Square. The sound of food made her mouth water, especially after crying; she needed to replenish and hydrate herself. 

The two sat in a pink leather booth; the restaurant had a decent amount of people for a Friday night because the volume of chatter was heard over the music blaring through the speaker. It was a somewhat retro-themed diner with checkered flooring, a jukebox in the corner for show, and the wardrobe the employees were wearing; it was a fun and cool vibe. 

Harry and Luci felt a bit awkward; they both weren’t expecting to end up in a diner together when they were supposed to be inside the theatre. They both avoided eye contact, looking around the very pink restaurant before a waitress arrived at their table and took their order. 

From what Luci could tell, Harry was a quiet and shy guy, but that was just an observable trait, which was half-correct. But the only reason why he was shy was because Harry was closed off and didn’t let too many people in, so sitting down with Luci at a diner—someone he'd only spoken with a couple of times—was very new to him. 

He fiddled with his rings—her personal favorite was the square Ruby gemstone with a gold band—and she knew that she needed to say something quick before he'd never talk to her again. 

“So, Harry, can I ask what you do for a living?” His head propped up from looking at the bubbles from his soda in his Coca Cola glass cup. 

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m a middle school teacher. I teach Language Arts.” 

“Fun! How long have you been teaching?” Luci placed her elbows on the table, interlocking her fingers as she rested her chin on her hands, giving him her full attention. 

“For about eight months.” He told her the basics of his life, not voluntarily, but because Luci asked an abundance of questions and was genuinely interested in his life. 

She learned that he was from Manchester where his sister and mother live and his father lived in Birmingham. He has a cat, which his mom had been taking care of ever since he left to go to college in America. He went to UCLA, becoming a double major in English and Education, which led him to wanting to become a teacher in the midst of essays and research. He decided to stay in America, ending up in New York for the change of scenery (Luci could tell there was more to that story than he led on), and was fortunate enough to get a job at East Side Middle School in Manhattan. 

Harry also mentioned that the four stacks of grading piles had gone down to one, finally being able to have a Friday night free, so he wanted to watch the play. Luci’s lips twitched up, but she curled her lips into her mouth, suppressing a large smile into a small one as she thanked him for wanting to spend his free time watching the show. 

He’d never talked that much, Harry thought. In between his stories and facts about himself, the food had arrived and Luci was still asking him questions. It wasn’t like he minded; he appreciated Luci being so attentive and interested in his life as a way to make small talk and make friends, but those were just the basics that he would tell anyone if they asked. 

Harry then asked how long she’d been acting for and on Broadway. Luci told him that her career started when she was six and had been acting ever since. She shared her aspirations and dreams; becoming part of Broadway was her first dream, which she somewhat achieved, and Hollywood was her next stop whenever the time was right. Harry poured the same energy she did, asking questions and interacting with her answers to those questions. 

Her mood seemed to decline as she explained why she was outside of the theatre crying. 

“It just felt like she ripped my dream from me and ripped it apart. I-I don’t even know when I’m gonna get my chance to perform.” Her lips turned downwards as she felt a new set of tears glaze her eyes, but she pushed them back, not wanting to cry again. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m sure it’ll be soon, and whenever that happens, I’ll be there to see you perform on your opening night,” Harry said genuinely; and Luci felt like she could cry all over again, not because of the destruction of her dream that happened in two minutes, but because Harry was possibly one of the sweetest guys she’s ever met. 

He surprised himself with his words, but he meant them. Throughout their conversations and getting to know one another, he felt himself relax a bit more, shoulders slumping. He realized that Luci was a very ambitious and motivated woman, making him admire her quality traits; she was also very easy to talk to, slightly chuckling at a joke that she made because he appreciated badly-made jokes since he made them himself. But maybe he’ll bring out the jokes another time when they hang out again. 

After an hour of staying at the diner and chatting with their table completely cleaned off besides the last-minute decision to order milkshakes, they finally decided to head home. They split the bill—only because it was fair and this unexpected night wasn’t a date—before they got on the subway towards home. They sat on opposite sides of each other, which Luci wasn’t expecting, but when Luci got on the subway cart and took her seat, Harry sat right across from her. 

Once they both reached their respective doors, they gave each other a small smile before mimicking each other’s actions as they turned the key and opened their doors at the same time. Taking one step in, they turned around, standing in their doorways just like all the other times they’d bid their goodbyes to one another. 

“Thank you for tonight, Harry. I really appreciate you being there for me, even if you didn’t have to.” Luci said, leaning against the doorframe. 

He nodded. “You’re welcome. Thank you for a great night as well. I had fun.” His statement made her face lighten up. “Well, goodnight, Luci.” He walked further into his apartment as did she, and she softly waved at him before they closed their doors. 

Despite not performing tonight, her night with Harry wouldn’t have happened if the unfortunate events were fortunate. 

And that was the most positive thing that came out of tonight, and she was really focusing on the positives now. 

come talk to me about your feelings, thoughts, and favorite moments! thank you for reading <3 next chapter will be posted next saturday!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles x ofc #harry styles au #harry styles ff #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles story #boyfriend!harry #actress!oc #harry styles #harry styles solo #hs au

[morkleemelon]

off the ice || chapter 6: grab my hand

previous || m.list || playlist || next

pairing: college hockey player! mark x fem. college figure skater! reader

genre: fluff, humor, angst, sports au, college au

word count: 7.7k

warnings: swearing, suggestive material, depictions of bullying

author’s note: huge thanks again to my beta readers @writing-frog and @skiimmiilk I’ve made the executive decision to split up the last chapter since it was so long! Chapter 7, the finale, is done and will be posted in a few days <3 

Distance. Distance isn’t a word you would use to describe your relationship as he pulls you close at night. There’s no distance between the two of you as he lifts you up in the air during your nightly practice, strong hands firmly gripping your waist as you dance across the empty rink.

No.

But if one were to look past your smile, to wipe away the condensation and see clearly what’s really going through your head when you were together with Mark, they might just name the dreadful feeling caving in your chest “distance”. 

Weeks have passed by since the hate message incident in Mark’s room. You tried to pull out the arrow, to convince yourself it wasn’t true and that you could ignore it just like all the rest. Alas, its words struck so deep, you still bleed. 

It poisons your thoughts. Your anxieties had already worsened  and you found yourself pulling away from his affections, afraid of the way the people walking past might somehow be talking about you.

Mark is starting to have his suspicions too, flashing you concerned looks when you uncomfortably shrug his arm off your shoulders in public. To you, it’s because you’re scared of the ‘hateful’ stares from others. To him, it’s a riddle he can’t solve. 

Because when it’s just the two of you, you let yourself relax. Like yin and yang, you fight an internal battle between how much you adore your boyfriend and how terrified you are that you aren’t good enough for him. When it’s just the two of you alone, you stop running and let him close the distance. 

Right now is one of those rare times - the familiar cold and scraping of ice below your skates bringing you peace. 

Mark glides easily beside you on the empty rink. He’s improved a lot, much to your astonishment. A golden boy through and through, he proves that there’s nothing he can’t do as he conquers each move you show him. 

Coach Tanya was surprised when you spoke with her after practice one day to notify her that you’d decided to pair with Mark Lee, captain of the hockey team, for the winter competition. Her thin eyebrows were perked in playful judgement when you started to defend yourself, ready to bring up Yuna’s accident and your financial situation before she stopped you: “You’re my best skater, y/n, and I look forward to your performance. Work hard, captivate your audience, and you just might win”.

Watching Mark skate on ahead of you in the borrowed skates he makes do with, you can’t wait to prove her right.

“What are we going to practice tonight, y/n?,” Mark asks as he arcs a wide circle around you. 

“I think you’ve gotten most of the basics down, so let’s go over the first part of the choreography,” you decide, grabbing onto his hand and giggling as he swings you around with him. 

“We have choreography?,” Mark lifts your arm up to twirl you around. He stops you as you face him, a laugh leaving your lips before he smothers them with kisses. His fingers tickle at the hem of your shirt, cold to your bare skin. You squeal, the sound carrying eerily over the spacious rink.

“I thought about it a lot in my head,” you explain as you shove him away gaily, “and I planned a bit during my own practices. It’s not done yet, but I think we can make it work”. 

“My talented, beautiful girl,” Mark murmurs, catching up to you and wrapping you in a back hug. You sigh blissfully, catching his warm lips in the crook of your neck.

“Mark, we seriously do have to practice. The festival’s only a month away,” you mumble. Some nights, let's just say, you spend more time in the locker room showers than you do on the ice. Using your best intuition, Mark’s lips travelling down towards your collarbones equals not a lot of practice time. And as much as you want for him to distract you all night long, you have to put your skate down and bring your boyfriend back to focus on the task at hand.

He huffs slightly against your skin, but releases you obediently.

“It’s gonna start like this,” you swiftly continue on, positioning your arm gracefully behind Mark’s head, “put your hand here,” you move his hand behind your back like you had planned, “and tilt your head to look at me,”. You tip his jaw slightly so he now peers down at you, face not inches from yours.

Dropping your gaze, you maintain what little self control you have and refrain from thinking about the locker room. It’s right by the rink exit. It’d be so easy to just...

“And then?,” Mark whispers, voice low, waiting patiently in the starting position. His hand is warm against your back, but it tugs at your heartstrings too.

“And then you’re gonna spin me out like we practiced before”. You help him perform the motion, unfurling yourself from his grip and gliding down to spin a slow circle around.

You bring him slowly through the rest of the introduction, Mark copying the moves diligently. 

“Then when I skate back to you, lift me up in the air like we did last time. You think you can do it?,” you question. The move you’re about to attempt is quite difficult - a little dangerous, even, since Mark is still a beginner - but you trust him to never hurt you.

“I can do it,” he confirms confidently, holding his arms out to receive you. 

“Okay, slow at first,” you nod, skating up to him at half-speed, grabbing onto his shoulders to help lift yourself above his head. Mark’s strong hands connect with your body, hoisting you up by your waist and balancing your body carefully above his. Muscles burning, you steady yourself as he twirls you slowly down.

“Alright, again,” you command.

The two of you repeat the move, steadily increasing the speed until the lift is smooth to your satisfaction. 

“I think that was pretty good,” you compliment, slightly out of breath. 

“Only because of you,” Mark endears, panting as he rests his chin atop your hair.

You sigh into his chest, the comforting feeling of his palpitating heartbeat washing over you.

If only it could always be like this.

“y/n?,” Mark mumbles. His tone was almost unsure, as if he was about to say something you don’t want to hear.

You hum an affirmation.

“Is everything okay these days?,” he asks the question you dread answering, “I know,” he continues before you can blurt out your default lie, “I know you keep saying that it is, but I feel like...you know you can tell me anything, right?”. 

Mark changes his phrasing midway, always taking your feelings into consideration. The all too familiar wave of guilt fills you up to your ears and you step slightly away. The stadium is dim, only lit by the natural light of the night sky, but you can see the concern that creases his face out in your peripheral vision. 

Your eyes focus instead on his jacket button. The second from the top has a few loose threads. 

And that’s just how you feel too; the button was made for this coat - it wants to hang on and be there forever. But how could it persist when the world wants to rip it off?

“It’s nothing,” you insist bitterly, your peaceful mood tainted gray. You were so close to successfully ending another day without confronting your demons. Why must Mark sense it so well?

Please stop, Mark. Please stop.

“I don’t think it’s nothing”. There’s nothing but kindness and concern in his voice, but when he reaches his hand out to you, fear overcomes your rationality and you jerk yourself away. 

“It is nothing!,” you exclaim, overly defensive. Half of your mind screams at you to halt, to filter your words before you say something you would regret, but the fuse was already lit and they come tumbling out anyway. “Can you please stop asking? It’s annoying,”.

A beat passes. Two. Five.

The sharp words tear through your mouth like knives, but even then you can’t stop to think. The energy in the rink changed so quickly, your head spins with shock. Turning away from the pained expression you don’t want to see, you skate quickly towards the exit. 

The ice is solid as ever, but why does it feel like you’re sinking?

Slamming the dormitory door shut behind you, your skating bag hits the floor before you do. Back pressed against the concrete wall, shaking sobs rack through your body as you sink down to your feet.

“y/n, what happened?,” Yuna peers over her computer screen. Your roommate had finally returned home a few days ago after her leg had finally healed enough to be discharged. 

You don’t answer, only burying your teary face into your arms as you cry harder.

The metallic creaking of crutches ensues as Yuna approaches your slumped form. A comforting embrace wraps around your shaking shoulders and the smell of her daisy perfume engulfs you. Her scarred hands stroke through your hair as she says nothing, waiting for your hiccups to calm down.

Guilt eats away at you like nitric acid. It mixes with your frustration, concocting a perfect poison that destroys your last thread of self-respect. 

“Can you please stop asking? It’s annoying”

“Can you please stop asking? It’s annoying”

“Can you please stop asking? It’s annoying”

The hurtful words don’t stop echoing in your head. What’s worse is, even though you didn’t stay to look, you can imagine the pain that crossed his face as you left without another word. You feel absolutely disgusting.

This is it. He’s finally going to be done with me.

Moments pass, Yuna sitting patiently by your side as you manage to find your voice. The dam you built around all your secret cracks, disintegrating to pieces as you let everything out to your best friend. 

You tell her about all of the hate messages you’ve been getting for months now - how you tried to ignore them, but some of them hit too way deep to forget. You tell her about the dilemma with Mark. He’s never done any wrong to you, ever, but you feel like you can’t keep forcing your problems on him. When you confided in your financial situation with him, he dropped everything to help you with the competition. You at least want to be able to handle one thing by yourself, to not be a burden, but it’s tearing you apart at the seams.

“I don’t deserve him and he’s going to realize it sooner or later,” you lament, gripping onto Yuna’s arms for dear life. Gasping sobs ensue, even as you hold your breath desperately to stop them. “He’s probably already realized it after what I said. Yuna, what do I do? I’m horrible”. Bitter tears choke at your throat.

“Oh honey,” Yuna coos into your hair, “you don’t even know, do you?”. 

Hiccupping uncontrollably, you take gasping breaths, trying to calm down. Your roommate understands, patting you gently on the back. 

“When you’re in a relationship with someone, the line between having enough communication and enough privacy is tough to figure out. Should you tell him about the lint between your toes? Maybe not. But talking to him about what’s bothering you is not only okay, it’s the right thing to do”.

Yuna lifts your chin up to face her. She looks empathetically down at your watery eyes as she takes her sleeve to dry the fallen tears. You press your eyelids shut, taking deep breaths punctuated by hiccups.

“And Mark,” she continues, “this guy, he looks at you like you’re all the stars in the sky and he’s the first astronomer. There’s not a thing you could tell him that would bother him, that’s what I think. And I think he’s dying to know how he can help you”. 

“Yuna I- you don’t understand. I just left him there after saying that. And I can’t even go on a date with him without feeling like people are talking about us,” you gasp out, “So the person sending the messages is right; I’m not good enough for him and he deserves someone way better than me. Maybe this is for the better”.

“y/n, don’t you see?,” Yuna snaps sternly. You open your eyes. They’re pink-red, matching the tip of your nose. “You’re letting other people ruin a once-in-a-lifetime relationship for you. Do you know what happens when you leave to go to the bathroom when we’re all hanging out? Mark’s looking towards the women’s room every two seconds, waiting for you to come back. This guy will manage to find a way to bring up your name at least twice in the five minutes you’re away. He likes you so much, anyone with a brain knows, so it’s not fair to him for you to tell him what, or who he deserves. At least let him make his own decision”.

The advice resonates in the air. Your hiccups calm to a sniffle as it sinks in. Yuna’s right, you’re being so selfish right now. Actually, you’ve been selfish this whole time. By forcing everything to yourself, you were creating an even bigger problem than any of the ones you were trying to hide.

“Yuna, what do I do now?,” you whisper, dread setting in.

“Girl, go talk to him. Now.”

You must look a mess, but you don’t bother fixing yourself up before you’re out the door.

Yuna sends you off with a ‘good luck!’ as you run down the corridor. Rushing down the metal stairs, your frenzied steps echo through the empty stairwell. They sound as desperate as you feel.

Oh god, please let it not be too late.

Once you reach the first floor entrance, you notice through the glass door that it is now, in fact, pouring rain. You were too distracted before to notice the heavy sounds of precipitation pelting down over you. 

Hands shaking to send Mark a message, you tell him you need to talk and you’re coming to him. You have no umbrella, but you push open the door anyways. The freezing rain soaks into your skin but you run on, unfazed.

You’re drenched and shivering by the time you stand panting in front of his building. Dying street lights illuminate against the dark, night sky. Waiting, the rain stings your eyes.

Through the blur, Mark’s figure finally appears at the door window. You can’t quite make out his face, but you know it’s him. The metal frame creaks as he pushes it open.

“y/n, what are you doing?”. His voice is raspy and as he comes closer into view. You notice that his eyes are pink-red, matching the tip of his nose.

“I have to talk to you,” you state, voice wavering as fresh tears mix with the ice-cold precipitation. Mustering up all the courage you have, you ready yourself to tell him everything you’ve been holding back.

“Let’s go inside”. His voice is soft as he tugs at your drenched jacket sleeve. 

“No I-,” you choke, “I want to say it right now”.

The rain bears down hard as he lets go of your sleeve, allowing the frigid water to soak through his own self, waiting.

“You asked me if something was wrong,” your resolve comes crashing down, “and a lot has been wrong”. You squeeze your eyes shut to force out the unwanted raindrops. “The truth is, I’ve been getting hate messages every day since we started dating. Probably even before that. They say I’m a slut, or I’m fat and ugly. The details don’t matter”.

Mark takes a step towards you, the concerned expression creasing his brow in full view. 

“But then they say I’m not good enough for you,” your voice breaks as you admit the most painful part of all, blinking up at him, “and I can’t help but believe them”.

Futily, you swipe your drenched sleeve across your eyes to dry them.

“But even if I don’t deserve anything that you are, I need to tell you right now that I didn’t mean what I said today and I need to know if you still want me-”

Before the next raindrop could hit your skin, you feel yourself lifted up into a crushing hug.

There’s no sound except the heavy pitter patter of rain around you, but you can swear that there’s a symphony playing as he spins you around. His breath huffs against your neck. He’s crying too, you realize.

“y/n,” he croaks, body quivering with tears and from the cold, “I always want you. I-, you-”. Mark pulls you in extra tight as he struggles to find the right words.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” the words strain against Mark’s throat, “when I first saw you, I dropped my shit and ran away”.

You pull slightly away, looking up at him quizzically.

He shakes his head and continues, “You were so beautiful and even when I thought you hated me, I couldn’t stop thinking about you all the time. I don’t want anyone else-”.

Grabbing your face with both of his hands, he presses desperate kisses to your forehead. The rain bears down hard, lightning cracking in the sky, but you’re numb to everything else except the feeling of his lips pressing their love onto your skin. 

“You’re it for me,” his voice wavers. The vulnerable confession sends you into a fresh wave of emotions and you grip onto the back of his neck, crying into his shoulder. “You’re my heart. I knew it from the first moment I saw you”. 

Pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes, he brushes back the wet strands of hair stuck to your face. You’re tempted to do the same, the once golden locks now almost black against his brow. 

“I love you”. 

The words leave his lips so suddenly, but they’ve been at the tip of his tongue for so long they roll off with ease. Your heart drums against your chest as time seems to stop. 

“You love me?” you choke, not believing your ears. His forehead is pressed against yours.

“I love you,” he repeats, “I love you. More than anything. So much that I can’t breathe. I was so scared when you left today because I thought I did something wrong and I was thinking of what I said and I was sitting at my desk waiting for you to call because I wasn’t sure if I should call you first after what happened but then I almost did and then-,”

You shut him up with your lips. 

He sinks into your touch, responding naturally as you kiss him with everything you have.

Your mind spins with a mixture of relief and excitement as you let all of your worries go. It was never about other people, you realize, it was about your own insecurities and you were tearing yourself down. Without realizing it, you forgot to take into account the other half of the relationship: Mark’s opinion.

But now you know for sure, the opinion that actually matters, not the anonymous person who doesn’t know better. He loves you. It’s you he’s chosen. Out of all of the people he could pick from, Mark holds you in his arms, whispering soft ‘I love you’s’ between each kiss. Kisses to your lips. 

How could you ever want him to be with someone else when you’re the one he wants?

“I love you too,” you reply breathlessly into his open kiss. 

We deserve to be happy.

He doesn’t say anything, instead responding by tugging your waist closer to him, moving his jaw feverishly to indulge you deeper. Water drips down from his hair, splashing onto the bridge of your nose.

“Let’s go inside,” you gasp. The heat of the moment made you temporarily forget, but the icy November weather slowly started to soak past your jacket. You shiver as a strong gust of wind blows past your drenched body.

Mark leads you inside and you hustle up to his suite. His hand is warm against your wrist and you can’t wait for it to be tangled in your hair again.

Slamming open the door, Mark’s arms are around your waist before it could drift shut. You jump up, wrapping your legs around his hips as he carries you to his room, lips never leaving yours.

Jeno, unsuspecting, is lying on his bed with a book in his hands. If your eyes were open, you would flush at the incredulous look the poor boy shoots towards you. 

Meanwhile, your boyfriend works at your jacket zipper quickly, removing the wet outer layers as he sits you on his bed. 

Pausing a second, he turns his head to speak to his roommate. 

“Out”. 

You don’t have time to feel embarrassed before Mark’s jacket is on the floor and he’s lying you back, hovering over your body. The bedroom door rams shut as Jeno scurries out, not keen on seeing the scene progress any further. 

I’m sorry, man.

Your mental apology doesn’t last long as your wet hair soaks into the pillowcase beneath you. Mark kisses a line from your jaw down the side of your neck, raindrops wet on his tongue. The heat of his body contrasts the cold of yours and you want all of it against you. 

Rain-stained articles of clothing gather on the floor in no time.

“God, I love you so much,” Mark hushes against your ear. His gruff tone sends shivers down your back and you scratch your nails through the base of his hair. Your legs find their way around his hips again, pulling him down impossibly closer.

“I love you too,” you gasp back. 

He kisses between your collarbones, then looks back into your eyes, “do you want this?”. 

You nod frantically, your voice nothing short of breathless. “I want this”.

Peace you haven’t been able to feel for a long time blankets you as you lie on your lover’s chest, the two of you fresh out of breath. Such a revelation- him telling you he loved you was. And you want to savor the feeling forever.

It feels as if there was a thorn lodged in your heart, festering for months from your terrible, insecure thoughts and you’ve finally yanked it out. It feels like you can finally breathe.

Well, metaphorically. Physically, you may need a few minutes.

Mark’s hair sticks up in every direction, frizzy from being half-dried and from your constant tugging. Nonetheless, he looks beautiful to you in the dim, lamp-lit room. His chest rises and falls in your embrace and your fingers work to delicately trace the toned muscles of his torso. Mimicking your movements, he grazes his thumbs over the blue-purple masterpiece he’s painted across your neck and chest.

“Good?,” he asks nonchalantly.

You let out a soft snort at the sudden question.

Men will always be men.

“Great,” you admit. Heat creeps into your face as you recall the last hour or so. 

You guess there’s more benefits of hockey than just the uniform: the stamina and athleticism. 

His inflated ego fills the room palpably as he shifts in the messy bed, tugging the covers more over your tangled bodies. Noises arise from the kitchen, probably from his other suitemates. Embarrassment fills you to the brim when you realize that everyone probably heard the two of you. You were far too busy caught up in your passionate feelings to consider this, and now it’s come back to bite. 

Huffing shyly, you hide your growing blush into the nape of your boyfriend’s neck. Clanging of kitchenware resonates clearly through the room’s thin walls. You can’t help but distress over how clearly the others could hear you. And for such a long time too.

Oh my gosh. How will I ever face them?

Mark seems to sense your thoughts and lets out a light chuckle. 

“Babe, we’re fine. They all hookup all the time. And Yuna-,”

“I don’t need to know, thank you,” you interrupt sharply. Squeezing your eyes shut, you fight off the disturbing imagery.

Ten’s voice drifts through the suite and the sound of the front door shutting rings through them with unnerving vigor. You jolt at the bang, stiffly turning your neck towards the locked bedroom door, as if it would reveal any answers. Mark looks at you, the confused expression on his face making it apparent that he doesn’t know what is happening either. Slowly, he shifts up into a sitting position.

“You’re fucking kidding me - it was that bitch?”. The senior boy’s voice cuts through the nighttime quiet abruptly. Struggling to stitch together the context of the overheard conversation, you force your sore body to sit up as well. From how it sounds, it seems like Ten is on a phone call.

You look at your boyfriend for confirmation. With a nod, the two of you mutually agree to silently withdraw from the comfort of the covers and get dressed. 

“I don’t - listen to me, do they know for sure?,” Ten asks anxiously from the other side of the door.

With increasing concern, you hastily pick up your wet, discarded clothing. The cold, uncomfortable sensation makes you wince. Mark grabs your wrist, preventing you from putting on the still-soaked yoga pants. Shaking his head, he takes the garment and tosses it over his desk chair. From his dresser, he hands you a dry set of his own clothing. 

The gesture makes you smile and you gratefully pull on the warm sweats and hoodie. They’re obscenely large for your frame, but it’s a sure upgrade from your sad, rain-ruined outfit. Mark ruffles your hair, cheeks like strawberries as he kneels down without a word to roll up your pants. 

A small giggle escapes your lips. He’s just seen you naked, but of course it’s this that gets him blushing.

The happy expression is quickly wiped off your face as Ten continues abruptly, anger apparent in his voice. 

“Fucking hell! Hillary Choi? The bitch even admitted to it?”. The senior captain’s voice is nothing less than a yell now. Mark’s mouth hangs open in shock as he stares towards the door. The concern and shock shining in his eyes allude to how uncharacteristic his friend’s behavior is.

“Hillary Choi…,” you mutter under your breath, the name ever so familiar to your ears. 

“Wait she’s…,” Mark turns his gaze to you carefully, silently confirming his correct assumption.

“She’s the one who hates me…,” you confirm bitterly with a nod. 

Mark stands up, grabbing both your hands as you sit back on his bed. His expression is sad, perhaps also peppered with anger - something you’ve never seen in your boyfriend. Gently, he tugs you to your feet.

As you push the bedroom door open slightly, the common room comes into view. Ten’s figure is hunched over the kitchen sink, listening intently to the person on the other side of the phone speak. His breathing is rushed - you’ve only ever seen him this mad the day Yuna entered the hospital. 

Then it all makes sense.

Opening the door fully, you reveal Jeno and Haechan sitting on the common room couch. You make eye contact with them as you and Mark stand at the doorway, listening. Their expressions tell that they’re equally as concerned as you.

Mark’s hand in yours, you tiptoe your way to join the two friends on the sofa. 

“The fucking psycho bitch,” Ten spits. His hands run furiously through his raven hair as he begins pacing around. The senior sees all of you gathered together, but makes no move to acknowledge any of you other than a hard stare.

The tension is suffocating. Everyone wants to say something, but the waters seem too rough to test. Anxious glances are exchanged, but not a word leaves any of your mouths as Ten continues pacing around, the other speaker on the phone relaying more information. You conclude to wait until the call is over before you try to ask.

“Okay so she’s at the police station right now? ”.

Mark’s hand squeezes yours in silent shock. 

“Okay… fuck,” Ten rubs tiredly at the bridge of his nose, “alright okay, thank you, officer. I- yeah I’m okay, thank you. Tell Yuna I’m on my way now”. 

A moment of silence suspends heavily over the air as he hangs up the call. The breath you didn’t know you were holding escapes in relief as Haechan clears his throat awkwardly and takes one for the team.

“Uh…,” the sophomore calculates for a bit, eyeing the enraged senior carefully, “Ten, what’s going on?”.

For the first time ever, it seems, the mischievous boy’s voice rid itself of its usual snide tone, replaced by refreshing sincerity. 

Ten sets down his hand, revealing tears building up in his previously covered eyes. Jeno doesn’t waste a second, getting off the couch without a word and wrapping his arms around his crying friend. 

You hesitate before asking, “It’s Yuna’s case?”. Keeping your voice as steady as possible, you hope you’ve succeeded in masking your growing fear.

Ten sniffs, patting Jeno’s back, prompting the younger to let go. Wiping away the stray tears, he nods. Everyone waits patiently as the distraught senior calms himself down with deep breaths.

“They caught the person who tried to kill her- or is it people? I don’t even know. And yes - they tried to kill her,” Ten rubs a stressed finger between his brow, “It was Hillary Choi, some junior girl who’s obsessed with Mark - she’s in our fanclub or whatever. They said she confessed it was all part of a plan? I don’t- I don’t know,” his voice breaks off as he tugs at his hair before heading over to grab his keys. 

“Wait, I don’t understand. If she’s obsessed with me why would she go try to hurt Yuna?,” Mark’s voice rings with alarm. A sinking feeling of dread sits in your stomach like a block of cement.

“It’s-,” Ten huffs into his hands, “let’s go to the station first and the bitch can tell you herself, she’s there apparently. Yuna is too. I don’t want to keep Yuna waiting there alone any longer so let’s go”.

The drive is silent, save the rumbling of the pavement below the car’s tires. Mark’s hand grips yours like a vice, but you don’t say anything. In fact, it kind of keeps you grounded as your anxiety goes through the roof. You’re no Sherlock, but hearing news that a girl who’s obsessed with your boyfriend (as has been sending you hate messages for months, no less) tried to kill your best friend, almost succeeding, bodes terribly for you. 

It had stopped raining a while ago and the five of you hurry your way through the fresh puddles dotting the police station lot. 

“Yuna?,” Ten calls out as the glass doors slide open. 

“Here,” a weak reply voices from behind a partition. 

Rushing over, you see that Yuna’s usual perfect composition is instead worn-down: her platinum blonde hair falls limply down her shoulders and her face is gaunt with distress. 

You had just seen her a few hours ago and she was even the one comforting you then. But now it’s your turn as you carefully kneel down beside her chair and pull her instinctively into a hug. 

“Officer, can you please tell us what’s going on?,” Mark stops a nearby woman in uniform. 

“You’re all friends of Ms. Kim?,” she inquires, continuing as a chorus of confirmations fills the room, “Okay, just a second”.

The woman appears visibly tired, probably pulled out of bed at an ungodly hour to cover this shift. Taking a long sip of her coffee, the white curls of steam prance around the air as you itch for answers. Setting the hot beverage down on the desk beside her, she straightens her badge. ‘Detective Jeong’, it reads.

“We have a confession,” Jeong relays finally, “earlier today- or yesterday, I should say- we received a call from our traffic security team detailing that they spotted the same model of car as the one thought to be involved with the accident on September 15th the uh-,” she stops to check her clipboard, “black 2018 Audi A4. We issued a warrant to interrogate the driver as quickly as possible, although not much was needed since the perpetrator, Miss Hillary Choi, confessed to the hit and run almost immediately”.

You hug Yuna tighter, Ten embracing from her other side. 

“You have the confession, did she say why?,” Jeno asks sternly.

“This is where it gets slightly more complicated and I want to ask, is a Miss y/n here?”.

The mention of your name makes you perk up, surprised. 

“That’s me,” you stand up slowly, “why?”.

Mark places a hand at the small of your back in concern. 

“y/n…,” Yuna sobs softly, gripping your arm. A thousand thoughts run through your head as your struggle to understand what is happening. 

“Yes?,” you brush the fallen strands of hair behind her ear.

“I want her to say it,” Yuna directs, speaking to the detective now. 

“Now we do have Miss Choi in our custody right now, but you’ll have to move back into the interrogation room if you wish to speak with her, for safety reasons”.

You nod, helping Yuna onto her crutches as everyone moves towards the back of the station. It feels as if you’re dreaming, that reality has separated itself into a different plane than the one you’re in and your existence has become but a construct. Your legs move on autopilot while your eyes are fixed ahead, but not really looking at anything in particular. 

The room you enter is dark and stuffy. Even with Haechan and Jeno opting to wait outside, it is far too crowded for the four of you. The room is divided into two; the other side is fully visible but unreachable due to a large plexiglass window in between. It’s eerily isolating. Yuna is ushered onto the only fold-up chair on your side of the room.

As the late-night officers go to bring Hillary in, the apprehension in the air is thick enough to be spread on your breakfast toast. The only comfort that comes to you is Mark’s arms wrapped around your waist. It’s the only thing that you can make sense of right now.

The door on the opposite side slams open suddenly, drawing a sharp gasp from you. Mark’s fingers curl protectively into your hoodie as Hillary enters.

It’s surreal. This woman - handcuffs and all - carries a plain, calm expression as she sits down casually in her own fold-up chair. You hadn’t seen her in a while, but her beady-eyed gaze is as intense as ever. The red streaks in her hair are outgrown, falling awkwardly around the bright orange of her jumpsuit. 

“What’s up?,” Hillary asks, tone cool as if she were not being held for attempted murder at the moment. Her dark eyes settle on you, the arms around your waist, then back to you. Hillary’s stoic face is unreadable, yet it sends chills down your spine like a thousand spiders.

“What’s up? You absolute psycho bitch-,” Ten rails, banging on the glass barrier with a clenched fist. He pulls back as the officer gives him a warning. Yuna pulls him back to calm him down.

Your eyes don’t leave hers. They’re a dark brown, almost black, and you find yourself sinking into them - pulled into them like they’re black holes of concentrated hatred.

Closing your eyes, you pull your mind back to yourself. 

For months on end, you’ve been the recipient of her constant torment. It not only affected your mental health, but almost cost you the relationship of a lifetime. This whole time, you’ve been afraid of her words, letting them eat away at your dignity from inside out until you were nearly gone. 

But if you had the weapon of confidence - if you had simply chosen to stand up and reply, to say ‘no, you’re wrong’, her arrows would have fallen limp to the ground and she couldn’t have hurt you. Hurt your friend.

You open your eyes, this time staring back hard. Hillary’s expression is unfazed, but you imagine she’s surprised at your change in mentality.

“Tell me everything,” you demand firmly. 

Hillary scoffs, as if the situation is amusing. 

“Fuck you, tell us everything,” Ten hisses.

Hillary rolls her eyes. “Fine. Only because she wouldn’t want me to be mean to you, Ten”. 

“Who?,” you ask rigidly.

“I’ll get to that, bitch,” she sneers.

“Hey, don’t call her that,” Mark warns.

The psychopath in orange laughs maniacally, though you can’t place your finger on what she finds funny. 

“Funny,” she gasps for breath, slapping her knees vigorously, “funny how now you talk to me!”. 

“She’s nuts,” Yuna states.

“The whole damn Planters factory,” you agree.

“You people wouldn’t know a thing!,” Hillary fires, pointing an accusing finger around the room. Her face is red from her laughing fit, almost as red as her disgruntled bangs. Eyes now glistening with rage, you press back into Mark’s embrace when her personality flips 180 degrees in under a second. “You don’t know anything!,” she screams, “You don’t know! You don’t know!”.

The four of you watch in shock as Hillary melts down, the guard coming up and restraining her to the chair. She’s thrashing around, chanting the phrase over and over again.

“You’ll never know how much I love you, Mark,” Hillary shrieks, smiling hauntingly as she’s forced back into the chair and cuffed to it, “and you’ll never know how much she loves you, Ten”. 

“What the fuck?,” Ten rightfully shouts.

“Tell us who!,” you raise your voice. 

“I’m getting there, b-,” she stops in the middle of the slur, glancing at your boyfriend. In the blink of an eye, her expression jumps from pure disdain to sickly sweet, “baby”. 

Anger flushes through your body. Wanting to provoke her a little, you turn your gaze to your boyfriend. Predictably, he immediately turns his full attention to you. A scrunch of his brow asks you if you’re okay. 

“Did you enjoy them?,” Hillary’s voice is ‘normal’ again as she asks the out-of-context question.

“What?,” Ten pries, unamused.

“Did you,” she points her finger directly at you, “enjoy my messages?”.

Oh boy, oh boy. I was waiting for you to ask that.

The words rush to your mouth, every comeback you’ve ever made manifesting into the pinnacle of all comebacks, “As a matter of fact, I did,” you smile brightly, “I especially enjoyed the one’s where you said Mark doesn’t love me and doesn’t want me. I like to think of the irony of it all when we’re sleeping together and he gives me these”. 

You tug down the collar of your hoodie (that’s actually his which makes it even better) to reveal the hickies blooming down your neck. “If only you could know how good it feels, but you’re undoubtedly alone”.

Yuna snickers beside you, but Mark’s signature laugh shamelessly fills the limited space around you. The mood of the room changes completely at your words, the seriousness dissipating like sugar in hot water. It’s so refreshing, the feeling of being in control of yourself. Hillary, the person you used to be so afraid of looks so small in her isolation. There’s nothing to her at all, now that you know to stand up for yourself. You’ve never felt so… powerful. 

In any other situation, you would have died in embarrassment from sharing personal information like that, but you’re on a roll. And it’s bitch ass Hillary we’re talking about here. Even Ten looks mildly impressed by your new attitude, a tiny smile quirked on his lips.

“You-,” Hillary pouts, “how could you, Mark, how could you do this to me? You and I both know we loved each other first. We still love each other”.

“I have literally no idea what you mean,” Mark emphasizes, moving his hands to grip your shoulders, “you need some serious help, man”.

“I’ll fucking kill you!,” she screams at you again. 

“No you won’t,” you chuckle, “you’re locked up! At this point it’s a little amusing.

“You wanna know what the plan was? Me and Seojung were gonna kill you both. I take the bitch that’s dating Ten and she takes the slut who took Mark from me. I got so close, following you, blondie, to the party, but you just had to live-”

“The fuck did you just say?”

“Sick psycho oh my god”

“Yeah good luck doing that from prison, asshole”

The room erupts in replies that cut her off. 

“Alright, time’s up,” the guard announces. The door on your side of the room opens, a gust of cool air welcoming you as Detective Jeong appears to usher you out. Turning around to give Hillary one last word as the officer drags her back to her cell, you’re not surprised to meet her menacing eyes. 

“He loves me,” you state confidently, “and he always will. Enjoy hell”. 

With that, the door shuts behind her and the worst chapter of your life dots its last concluding period. It’s the last one that you’ll let someone else write for you. You’re more than ready to pick up the pen and turn the next page. Excitedly, you head out to your friends waiting on you outside.

“Don’t worry, we’ve monitored that whole conversation and everything will be used against her in court,” Jeong assures, “Miss y/n, you might remember Choi mentioned a ‘Seojung’ and we want to make sure you know that she has been detained and held at the Gangnam Police Station. We’re waiting on her statement, but if what Choi testified is true, we’re looking at life in prison for both parties”.

“Not death?,” Ten scoffs.

“Not death, no,” the detective shakes her head.

“So basically, they’re both insane. And they did all this because they thought Ten and Mark belonged to them,” Haechan follows slowly, having just been filled in.

“We gotta put an end to this fanclub shit. Why are our lives controlled by these freaks,” Jeno groans.

He’s right. He’s so right. The whole thing is disgusting, especially when none of the Lee’s ever asked for it to be formed. If it’s already gotten to the point where members are caught in homicidal attempts, there’s no way the Lovelees club can continue to exist.

The station is nearly empty now, almost all of the officers handling the case calling it a night and heading home. Not wanting to keep Detective Jeong any longer, the six of you head out to the car. It’s nearly four in the morning and the adrenaline is wearing off, exhaustion replacing it.

“Hey but y/n, you were so good in there,” Yuna smiles, bumping you with her shoulder as you walk through the parking lot. The night air is cold against your skin, filled with the scent of petrichor.

“Yeah, you,” Mark looks at you with doe eyes, arm slung around your shoulders.

Letting out a short laugh, you press your lips quickly to his cheek.

“And I’m assuming based on how this looks, the conversation went well?,” Yuna adds.

“Only thanks to you,” you appreciate, turning from your best friend to Mark, “I think we’re all good now”. 

Mark beams at you as Ten unlocks his car, bringing you in for an elated kiss.

Groans erupt from all around. 

“You’ve seriously been going at it all night, none of us have gotten any sleep,” Haechan whines loudly.

“Bruh,” says Jeno.

“Then get yourself a girlfriend, fatass, I don’t know what to say,” Mark retaliates.

You reluctantly pull away as everyone piles into the vehicle. Haechan, you don’t feel bad for. He could cry and pout all day and you wouldn’t bat an eyelash. Jeno, is a different story. 

Memories of earlier cause your fingers to curl up in cringe; the way he was minding his own business in his own room only to be caught in the middle of your… make-up methods. 

“Hey…,” you apologize as you cram into the seat next to him, “I’m uh- I’m sorry about earlier”.

“I don’t want to talk about it”. The blue-haired boy massages the crease between his brows, stressed. 

“Right okay,” you nod. 

“Not to ruin the mood, but are you okay y/n? I feel like we’re moving too fast past what you’ve been dealing with for the past few months. I mean… I just want to make sure I’m not in the dark about your feelings again,” Mark asks softly.

Silence falls upon the car as the group awaits your answer. You look to the passenger seat, to Yuna, as Ten cruises down the city street. 

“I’ll never forgive her,” you finally admit, “either one of them. They can literally rot in hell for all I care. But for me, I’m okay. If anything, this whole thing has taught me a lot and I’ve grown a lot from it. Both of them are locked up, so I’m not scared anymore. Oddly, I feel really free”. 

Packed into a tiny car, cruising down the streets of Seoul, you admire the friends around you. You’re surrounded by love. Your best friend and the love of her life. Your soulmate and his two best friends (who have become like family to you). Back on campus, Hope and Lisa sleep away, unaware of the chaos of today. You can imagine the looks on their faces as Yuna and you fill them in. Irreplaceable, every one of them. 

Life is full of way too many amazing things for any number of crazy bitches to ruin. Just as your friends have become irreplaceable to you, you are irreplaceable to them too. It’s due time that you give some credit to yourself. 

I am truly confident. I am worthy. I am loved.

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[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 32: Beginnings

Chapter 31

Read on AO3

December 31

“Faith, baby, wake up.” 

Currently, her little face was smooshed against Jamie’s shoulder, lips open in sleep. It was 11:55, and Faith was down for the count at 9:00 this year, despite having made it all the way to midnight last year. It was probably due to the fact that she was up at three in the morning last night, stimming and screaming her head off with glee until breakfast, Risperdal and Angus no match for the will of autism and a wound up five year old. Even Claire was entirely too exhausted to be awake, New Year or not, but she wouldn’t have missed this party for the world. 

“Come on, lass,” Jamie jostled Faith a bit in his arms. “I’ve got ye a wee blower. I ken ye like those.” He tickled her nose with the noiseless paper blower, and she stirred, rubbing her nose roughly against his shoulder. Jamie and Claire both chuckled.

“Come on, Faithie! It’s almost midnight! New Year! Remember?”

Her eyes opened, rather reluctantly.

“There she is,” Jamie said. “Here ye go.”

He deposited the blower in her hands, and she seemed to completely wake up in a split second.

“I wish mine was sleeping,” Jenny groused, watching her son run circles around the coffee table with Thomas and a few typical siblings that were as hyper as he was. “I wouldna be waking him up fer anything.”

“Believe me, I know I shouldn’t be waking her,” Claire said. “After the morning we had. But little celebrations are very important to Faith. Right, lovie?”

The little girl was currently preoccupied blowing into her toy and allowing the unfurling paper to hit Jamie in the face. He was giving quite an animated, exaggerated reaction that was sending Faith into fits of giggles that kept her wanting more.

“What did I tell ye,” Jenny mumbled. “He’s a giant child.”

Claire snorted, shaking her head lovingly. “I do love that about him.”

“It’s good he’s found someone who does.”

Mary and Alex had been more than happy to add Jamie and his entire family to the invite list once Claire had timidly asked. She’d felt strange doing it; it was one thing to ask to bring her boyfriend that was practically Faith’s father, and entirely another thing to ask to bring three more adults and two more children that they’d never met. Jenny had offered that they’d find something to do on their own, that Claire needn’t bother, but Claire had insisted that they spend the holiday together, even if Mary and Alex couldn’t swing it. She’d been fully prepared to have the entire Fraser-Murray clan in her apartment. 

But Mary had been surprisingly enthusiastic about having Jamie’s family over, intrigued as she was by the man himself, and invested as she was (from the beginning) in their relationship.

“His sister is terrifying,” Mary had whispered after the first few minutes of the party. “She looks stone cold.”

“She’s not,” Claire assured her. “We get along really well. She’s really quite lovely underneath all that. You’ll see.”

With under a minute left until the new year began, Claire got up from where she’d been perched on the arm of the couch, and Jamie stood up with Faith. Ian scooped his wriggling son off the floor and settled him on his hip while Jenny reminded him with no little bite in her voice that he was not to scream and clap when the ball dropped.

“It’s a different kind of party, a quiet party. D’ye understand?”

“Aye, Mam.”

Maggie had been asleep for hours in her stroller, among a throng of other babies and toddlers strewn around the living room in carriers and strollers, but Brian scooped her up, careful not to wake her. Gillian slid in next to Claire and laced their hands together, just as she had always done for the countdown.

“Bit different this year, no?” Gillian whispered, smiling.

“Yes…a bit,” Claire smiled crookedly at Gillian, then up at Jamie.

“I hope it keeps getting different,” Gillian said, shoving her lightly with her shoulder. “If ye ken my meaning.”

Claire blushed furiously. Before she could open her mouth to reply, to chide her friend for implying right in front of Jamie that they ought to be married for the next New Year, the countdown from ten began, a quiet chant bubbling through the crowded living room. Jamie wound his arm around Claire’s shoulder, the arm that was not holding Faith, careful not to disrupt her grip on Gillian’s hand. Claire couldn’t put her finger on why that touched her as much as it did. His care to never overstep, to simply be an addition to their lives and never a replacement, always touched her.

“Five, four, three, two, one!”

Before Claire could blink, Gillian was loudly and grossly kissing her cheek, and she laughed out loud, grimacing in disgust.

“Of all the obnoxious…”

“Just staking my claim!” She winked up at Jamie, who was jolting violently with laughter.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ…”

“Ach, come here, lass.”

Claire craned her neck up as Jamie squeezed her shoulders, leaned down, and kissed her soundly. Claire felt Gillian give her hand one final squeeze before releasing it, and Claire used it to cup his face. This was by far not Claire’s first midnight kiss on New Year’s…but God, none of them had ever felt like this. Like a beginning, a promise, a gift, all in one.

They had to break away when Faith’s paper blower kept smacking both of their cheeks.

“You silly goose, happy new year, love,” Claire said, giggling. She signed it, coaxing Faith to copy. They’d been working on that one with her in school, along with Merry Christmas. “Yes, good job, baby. Tell Jamie, tell him happy new year.”

She did, rather lazily and hastily, preferring to blow the paper blower in his face again.

“Aye, happy new year to you too, ye wee heathen.”

Jamie kissed Faith’s cheek, and she squealed, squirming away. It became a game; every smack from the unfurling paper blower earned her a kiss on the cheek from her chosen victim. Jamie and Claire kept it going until Jenny popped over to wish them a happy new year, and Faith was blowing into her face too, and getting kiss after kiss from her Auntie, her Uncle Ian, and her Grandda. She was acting like she hated being bombarded like this, but Claire knew she was loving every second.

Claire turned around to find Gillian, to tell Faith to wish her a happy new year as well, but she was a bit busy getting her own New Year’s kiss. Toni had been with friends before arriving at 11:30 to watch the ball drop with Gillian, and soon they’d be off together to get wasted until God knows when with Toni’s friends. Toni had initially felt weird about coming at all, given that most, if not all of the attendees were kids and families she worked with, and Gillian had scoffed.

“If ye think Mister Jamie isna going to be snogging his lass in front of all the kids…”

That had earned her a smack on the arm from Claire.

Well, if anyone was closest to snogging, it was Gillian herself. Though it wasn’t all that bad; Toni and Gillian knew better considering the company they were in.

Claire turned back to Jamie to see that he was looking at the pair of them as well. They both smiled at each other, then pecked each other again.

“Happy New Year, Sassenach.”

“Happy New Year, my love,” Claire answered, nuzzling his nose with hers. “Here’s to more beginnings.”

“Aye.” He kissed her nose. “You are my beginning, Claire.” He kissed her right cheek. “And my middle,” then her left, “and my end.” He punctuated his profession with another kiss, and Claire melted.

She didn’t think she’d ever find a way to compete with his Shakespeare-like tendency for flowery words of love…but she didn’t think he minded. 

——

January 15

Claire glanced nervously at the tea kettle, near to whistling already.

“It’s no’ a ticking time bomb, Sassenach,” Jamie chided.

“I know that,” she snapped.

“Hey…come on, now.” He sat down at the table and tried to meet her eye, and she obliged guiltily.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he brushed it off. “Ye said her first interview went great. What are ye so nervous about this time around?”

“Last time I scrubbed the apartment top to bottom, I picked up every barbie and lego and dog toy, cleaned out any leftovers that might have smelled…” She put her head in her hands. “I could prepare, you know? But there’s really no preparing someone for Faith. Or vice versa.”

“I see,” Jamie said. He took her hand, rubbing circles on her knuckles. “But listen. Ye said she was sweet as anything, sounded like she and Faith would get along great. And even if they don’t…it’s no’ the end of the world. There’s dozens of other staff that Morgan can pull out of her file. One of ‘em, or two, I suppose, are bound to be a good fit. No?”

“I know.” Claire sighed, squeezing his hand. “I know. Thank you. It’s just this…lingering panic from the days where every introduction was a disaster, and the disaster was my fault.”

“Those days are over, Sassenach.”

“I know.”

The previous day, Jamie had taken Faith to the park while Claire interviewed two potential candidates for Self Direction staff for Faith. Claire had done research before their move, and had applied for the program as soon as she’d gotten her work visa. She’d been told it would be one or two years before things would be set in motion for Faith to actually have staff, which is why she’d had to resort to finding Mrs. Lickett and paying her out of pocket all this time. Two weeks ago, Claire had finally been set up with a broker, Morgan, and from here on out, Medicaid would be paying Mrs. Lickett and the two new staff. Never again would Claire have to stress about being home in time to take Faith to the stables; that was something staff could do. There was always staff with some of the other kids at the stables, and Claire had always looked on longingly at the relationships they had. She’d go with them, of course, for the first few weeks, get Faith used to going with someone new, but in the long run, it would save her a lot of trouble.

The tea kettle started screaming, and Claire jumped up to stop it just as there was a knock on the door.

“I got it,” Jamie went for the kettle, nodding toward the door. “Go on.”

Claire smiled gratefully, feeling frantic and rushed despite the fact that she’d been sitting waiting for Leina’s arrival for twenty minutes now. Faith was climbing on the windowsill again to see who it was, and Claire pulled her down, lest she upset her plants (again). Claire wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans before opening the door.

“Hi!”

“Hi, Leina, great to see you again.”

Claire ushered the girl inside. She was petite for her age, twenty years old with shimmering dark hair and olive skin.

“Oh my goodness, is this Miss Faith?”

The little girl in question cowered behind Claire’s legs, wrapping her arms around her thigh for dear life.

“Yes, here she is.” Claire cupped Faith’s head. She beckoned Angus over in case Faith started getting upset over Leina’s presence. “And that’s Angus.”

“Wow, Faith. You have a really nice dog. Is he your best friend?” Leina signed friend, and Claire smiled.

“Go on, Faith. Tell Miss Leina that Angus is your friend.” Claire crouched down, so Faith latched onto her shirt instead, hiding her face in her mother’s hair. “Go on, tell her.” Faith signed friend, still not looking at Leina. “Good job.”

“That’s awesome, Faith. Good job,” Leina said warmly. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

Jamie appeared from the kitchen just then, and Faith bolted away from Claire and right into Jamie’s legs. Knowing exactly what she wanted, Jamie sighed and picked her up.

“Hi there,” he said. “I’m Jamie.” He stuck out a hand for Leina to shake, and Faith buried her face in his shoulder, her plan to retreat to Jamie apparently backfiring.

“Hi, nice to meet you. Claire told me so much about you.”

Leina had been incredibly receptive to the unusual family unit that Claire had presented her with. She hadn’t asked any questions when Claire had said that the father was not in the picture, she’d smiled widely when she’d explained Jamie’s role in their lives. Claire hadn’t wanted to bombard any candidates with “the boyfriend” before she knew it wasn’t going to be uncomfortable, which is why she’d had Jamie take Faith out.

“Do you want tea?” Claire jumped in. “The kettle just finished.”

“Oh, sure, thanks so much.”

Leina had accepted Claire’s offer of tea last time, so this time, Claire made sure to have everything ready, remembering just how Leina had liked it. When she returned with it, Jamie was gently yet firmly telling Faith that she needed to play, that she could not sit on his lap until Leina left. She silently thanked him as she handed the mug to Leina, knowing that he was preparing Faith for the eventuality of Leina playing with her.

Leina and Jamie sat on opposite ends of the couch, and Claire perched herself on the arm on Jamie’s side so as to not crowd the girl.

“So,” Jamie began, chipper. “Claire tells me ye’re in school for special education.”

“Yeah, sophomore year at Hofstra,” she said. “I went into it because my brother has autism, too.”

“Right, Claire told me. He’s verbal, though?”

“Yeah, I’ve never worked one-on-one with a nonverbal child, but I’ve interacted with them in a group setting where someone else was in charge.”

“And ye know signs?”

“Jamie,” Claire chided quietly. “It’s not an interrogation.”

Leina blushed, but she laughed. “It’s okay, I get it.”

“She was signing to Faith when she got here,” Claire said.

“Yeah, I’m not fluent by any means, but I know some.”

“Well, neither is Faith,” Claire said. “She’s absolutely still a beginner, and so am I, really. Jamie is the expert.”

Leina chuckled again.

“So, remind me of your availability?” Claire said.

“I’ve got class and volleyball Monday through Friday, except I’m free Wednesday nights.”

“Well, ye need time to do homework,” Jamie said reasonably. “Especially if we eat up yer weekends. Unless you want Wednesday nights?”

“I wouldn’t mind at all! I’m totally used to squeezing schoolwork into my schedule.”

“Well, the more hours the better, right?” Claire said with finality. “Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday it is.”

“Wow, okay, great.”

Granted she gets along with Faith, of course.

“D’ye have any questions fer us?” Jamie asked.

“Claire answered a lot of them yesterday, but I’d love to hear more about what Faith does at the stables?”

Jamie then launched into the whole process, including her transition to a new therapist given the new situation. He even went into the science behind the therapy, why it was effective, how it changed children’s bodies and minds. Claire adored watching him like this, going on and on about the part of his life he was most proud of, Faith’s presence in that part of his life making it all the more sweet.

When the conversation petered out, they all knew it was time for Leina to attempt to talk to Faith. She’d been playing a video on her tablet and waving around a mermaid barbie, Angus’s head in her lap. Leina sat on the floor about four feet away from her and waved.

“I really like your mermaid, Faith. She’s super pretty.”

Claire and Jamie watched with bated breath, clinging far too tightly to one another given that they had company.

“Can you tell me what color her tail is?”

Faith kept her eyes on her tablet screen.

“Faith, I want to talk to you. I think it’s time to turn off the tablet.”

Claire bit her lip fiercely, her stomach flipping.

“Faith, listen to Miss Leina,” she said firmly. “Turn off the tablet. It’s all done.”

Leina threw a grateful smile her way as Faith exited out of all her apps and turned it off.

“Good girl,” Claire said.

“Thank you, Faith,” Leina said sweetly. “Can you tell me what color tail your mermaid has?”

Faith kept her eyes downcast, fidgeting with Angus’s fur, but she signed: blue.

“Yeah! Good job!” Leina said. “And what else?”

Faith signed purple.

“Yeah! So pretty, right?” Faith wiggled the doll, biting her lip. “Can you use your device to find colors?”

Faith picked up her communication tablet and said blue, then, when Leina prompted, purple.

“Yeah! Good job, Faith. What about her hair? What color is her hair?”

Yellow.

“Wow, you’re really smart.”

Faith giggled.

Claire felt Jamie’s eyes on her, and she glanced down at him. His eyes were wide, and he was grinning, making a “she’s amazing” face if Claire had ever seen one. Claire beamed back at him, and then Leina and Faith were shuffling into Faith’s room. Claire could hear Leina prompting Faith to name everything in her room, could hear the device answering, and could hear Leina’s praise when she signed colors.

“I’m seriously going to cry if this doesn’t work out,” Claire said. “I love her.”

“I do too,” Jamie said quickly. “Did ye tell her how much Faith loves naming colors?”

“No! I didn’t! She just knew exactly what to do!”

“Christ, I might cry if it doesn’t work out.”

Before long, they’d exhausted every item on Faith’s tablet to name things in her room, and then Claire heard the rattling of a puzzle.

“Do you think Leina is getting it? Or Faith?”

“Dinna ken.”

“Shh!”

“A puzzle? Do you want to do a puzzle with me?”

“She brought it to her!” Claire repeatedly smacked Jamie’s shoulder.

“Aye, I can hear!”

Faith, on her own, of her own volition, was inviting Leina to play with a toy of her choosing, one of her favorites, of all things.

“It’s working out, Jamie! It’s working out!”

“Shh!” It was his turn to hush her, her whispering getting a bit too loud. “Ye’re gonna scare her away, then it’ll be yer fault it doesna work out.”

“Oh, don’t even say that.”

Jamie squeezed her shoulder, reassuring her. “Nah, Sassenach,” he whispered. “Ye’re right. It’s working out.”

——

Valentine’s Day was a grueling Tuesday, a long day and a late night. Despite her exhaustion, Claire didn’t even have it in her to trudge up the staircase to her front door; it was bloody freezing outside. She shivered and breathed heavily as she fumbled with the key, opening and shutting the door so fast, she didn’t even see him right away.

He was there, as he’d been on their one month and a few anniversaries after that when she was working, and she’d somehow never managed to notice his car parked on the street any time. He was sitting with Amy, the other staff they’d taken on along with Leina. He could have sent her home before Claire arrived, but he’d likely not wanted to cut the woman’s hours short. She was a forty year old divorcee with children of her own and other clients already; she’d been looking to fill in holes in her week so she’d be closer to a forty hour work week. Faith got along with her just as well as she had with Leina.

“Hi,” Claire stammered, a little breathless.

“Hi there,” Jamie said, standing and revealing a ridiculous bouquet of roses. He never showed any shame in doting on her in front of whoever was there with Faith any given night, no matter how it made Claire blush.

She sighed with forced exasperation, given Amy’s presence, but she could feel her cheeks getting hot, burning hot.

“He’s just the sweetest thing, isn’t he?” Amy said, zipping up her coat, throwing her purse over her shoulder, and pulling her keys out.

“Yes…” Claire cleared her throat. “Ehm, thank you, Amy. She was good?”

“Oh, yeah, just fine,” Amy said. “I’ll get out of your hair. See you Thursday.”

“Yes, see you Thursday,” Claire replied, and with a gust of piercing cold that was there and gone, Amy left.

“Jamie…when are you going to—”

Claire was abruptly cut off by a mouth on hers, Jamie’s to be specific. She whimpered in shock, but then melted into him.

“Ye have no idea what that blush of yers does to me, mo ghraidh.”

This only deepened said blush, and he kissed random parts of her face, and it took her a moment to deduce that he was following the path of her blush, as it grew more blotchy and red by the minute. The longer he held her, the less often she found herself shivering, and she moaned in delight, stopping his kisses to bodily press herself against him.

“You’re so warm…” she mumbled, clinging to him. “I’m freezing.”

“Aye, so ye are.” He tenderly rubbed her arms, then took her hands in his, covering them completely. “This help?”

“God, yes…” she groaned.

“Careful of those wee noises, Sassenach,” Jamie warned, his eyes dancing with mirth. “I’ll no’ have much restraint left by the time ye’re warm enough to undress.”

She groaned again, this time in dread, shoving her face into his chest. “Can’t you just fuck me in my coat?”

He snorted into her hair, wrapping his arms fully around her, rocking gently. “Ah, Sassenach. I could make love to ye in anything, any time, anywhere.”

He kissed the crown of her head, and she shivered for an entirely different reason. “Thank you for the roses,” she murmured into his shirt. “They’re lovely. You really didn’t have to.”

“Of course I did,” he said, sounding almost offended. “That’s what a man does fer his lass on Valentine’s day.”

“And what about a lass for her lad?” Claire said.

“I got the Starbucks and chocolates at the stables,” he assured her. “Toni even heated up the coffee in the back room so it’d be ready when I got there.”

“That was good of her,” Claire said fondly. “Doesn’t feel like enough, though.” She pulled away enough to look into his eyes. “Nothing I could ever give you would ever be enough to show you how much I love you.”

“D’ye think a few dozen roses are enough to show how much I love you?” He shook his head, aghast. “I could fill this room, this apartment, the whole island, the whole world wi’ roses or anything else ye could ever want, and it would never come close.”

Claire’s self-deprecating pout morphed into a liquid smile, and she kissed him sweetly. She shook her head as she pulled away. “Nothing I could ever say would work, either.”

He chuckled. “Dinna fash, lass.” He kissed her again, harder, more urgent. “When I hold yer small, hot body in my arms, and ye look into my eyes, ye make that face while we  make love…”

“What face?”

He hushed her. “…That’s more than enough for me to ken the truth of yer heart. Ye give me so much wi’ yer body, Sassenach. D’ye understand?”

Her breath caught in her throat as she exhaled with a tremble. “I understand.”

He kissed her one more time, then kissed her nose, then her forehead. “D’ye think a nice hot shower would warm ye up? Or d’ye just want to burrow into yer blankets?”

“No, that actually sounds like a lovely idea. As long as there are blankets awaiting me after.”

“Of course.”

“And as long as there’s a big, warm, human-furnace Scot awaiting me after.”

“Of course.”

“Although…you don’t have to wait until after.”

She gave his arse a smack, and he growled, swiping for her, but missing as she sidestepped him.

“Be a dear and start the water, won’t you? I want to put these in a vase.”

He shook his head, smirking darkly at her. “As ye wish, Milady.”

By the time Claire arranged the roses to her satisfaction and put them on a counter, far enough away from the edge that Faith couldn’t stretch and knock them over, the shower was steaming as she approached it. Jamie’s shirt was already off, and she fought the urge to lick her lips at the sight.

“You’re in luck, my lad,” Claire said. “You’re going to get me naked after all.”

He chuckled as he undid his fly. “How d’ye know that wasna my intention all along?”

“You brute!” she said, feigning an obnoxious damsel voice. “Baring my body for your own selfish needs rather than for my own comfort!”

He pulled his pants down, laughing heartily. “Ach, dinna fash. Your needs will be duly met, my Sassenach.”

Claire chuckled, heat gathering in her core. She sputtered then, realizing she was still in her bulky winter coat in the middle of the steaming bathroom. She made a mock-striptease of removing it, and Jamie shook his head, laughing. As each new area of skin was revealed, she broke out into gooseflesh, shivering violently.

“Come on, lass,” Jamie purred, now fully naked along with her. “Let’s get ye warm.”

The hot, nearly scalding water was a balm, and in a mere ten seconds, she’d stopped shivering. She sighed, leaning bodily against Jamie, not wanting to hold herself up, yet not willing to lean against the cold tile walls. She wrapped her arms around his torso as he slid his hands up and down her back, her arse, her shoulders, gliding smoothly in the water. When he took healthy handfuls of her arse with both hands, kneading and squeezing, pulling apart and pushing together, she could stand it no longer, and she stretched up to kiss him.

Oh, yes, she was quite warm now.

Tongues danced, teeth nipped, lips suckled, and Claire stroked Jamie’s hot, searing length until he begged her to stop before he spoiled the rest of the evening. Claire knew it was taking all of his control to not bend her over and have her right then, but he restrained himself, scrubbing her body gently and thoroughly, washing her hair and massaging her scalp with all the tender care in the world. She returned the favor, unable to resist a kiss here and there, as he’d been unable.

When they were satisfied with their cleanliness, the kissing resumed, and then Jamie was turning her around, kissing down her back, her arse, her thighs, getting onto his knees.

“Hold on, mo ghraidh.”

His breathy purr brushed against her, and she shivered, despite the chill in her bones having been long gone. She braced herself on the wall, not at all certain that she wouldn’t slip, and then he thoroughly devoured her, sending her reeling with his mouth alone. She came hoarsely, sharply, trying to curl her fingers into something but finding nothing but slippery tile. Jamie was on his feet in an instant, catching her around the waist, holding her up, cupping the tender spot he’d abandoned to stop her fall. She gratefully rode his hand, gyrating lazily, riding out what was left of her orgasm, her head thrown back into the crook of his neck.

He cupped her until the aftershocks ceased, and then his hands roamed up to squeeze her breasts, as if they were the only thing keeping him upright. He was hard as a rock against the small of her back, and Claire ground her arse against him, giggling when he groaned in misery.

“Come on, love,” she purred, shutting off the water. “I’m all warm now.”

Jamie stepped out and quickly dried himself off, stopping Claire before he was done.

“Let me.”

And, despite how painfully aroused he must have been, he tenderly patted down every inch of her, squeezed out her hair methodically, gently. He then wrapped her in a second, dry towel, something Claire never allowed herself to do, and he scooped her up in his arms, leaving the two wet towels on the bathroom floor, and carrying her, naked, to the bedroom. Claire locked the door for him after he shut it with his foot, and they giggled into a kiss as Jamie walked her onto the bed. He laid her down among rose petals that he’d likely scattered hours ago, and she shook her head at his thoughtfulness. She watched as he lit candles, resting her head on her hand and biting her lip to keep from laughing at the extravagance of it all. He flicked off the light when the candles were lit to his satisfaction, and then he turned back to her.

“Hurry back,” she whined, only partly joking. “I’m getting cold again.”

He wasted no time, closing the distance to the bed and rolling her onto her back, hovering over her.

“Canna have that.”

He unfolded her towel and kissed every inch of her pebbling skin, as if kissing away the goosebumps. He stayed for a while on her nipples, lapping at her there until she was panting and arching her hips into the air.

“Warm enough yet?” He smirked up at her from between her breasts, and she nodded desperately.

A man on a mission, Jamie tossed aside her towel and finally, finally straddled her, bracing himself on his elbows so their mouths were inches apart.

“God…” he groaned, kissing her one more time as his tip teased her entrance. “I’m the happiest man alive.”

“I love you…” Claire murmured, and then with one snap of his hips he was fully sheathed within her, as if the words propelled him forward against his will.

He tried to take his time, Claire could tell, but it didn’t take long for him to take up a maddening pace, slamming into her, and then rubbing rough circles on her clit so she could follow him into oblivion. She did, losing her grip on reality so thoroughly that she did not know where she ended and he began, did not know whose cries she was hearing.

She quite literally didn’t open her eyes again, physically unable after her long day and the activities she’d just finished. So Jamie tucked her in under the excessive amount of blankets she kept on the bed in winter, and she drifted off to the sound of him blowing out candles, only fully surrendering to sleep when he was once again at her side, tucking her into him like she belonged there, like an extra limb, an extension of himself.

My Valentine.

[cassanovancats]

archaism - one

introduction of teacher!reader with an anti-aging quirk that helped found U.A. and even taught All-Might how to properly annotate

It is a rare day for you to feel rushed and yet, here you are. Late to the first day back to school and, more importantly, late to meeting the new students. The gate of U.A. stands imposingly, even more so with reporters seeking interviews with teachers who rose in the ranks over break or students expected to do well at this year’s sports festival crowding it. You, thankfully, slip through the crowd with only one or two excited shouts of your name. Offering a friendly smile and wave, you walk more confidently once on campus.

You check your watch once more; five minutes until homeroom meetings end and you are expected in the first of six classes for the day. And it's Hero-Course day. Those kids are always the hardest to convince that general coursework is needed. At least you have time to work up the nerve to face the first-years since Shota asked if he could move Class 1-A’s lesson to the end of the day. It was an easy concession - you have been here too many years to question his additional testing.

Sliding in to Class 3-B, you sigh when you notice the teacher is still engrossed in reading off announcements. You totally had time to get tea from the teacher’s lounge. The teacher finally finishes and, knowing you need no introduction, nods as they pass you on the way out. “Lucky bastard is probably going for tea,” you grumble. 3-B laughs, used to your antics. It causes you to beam, happy to be back with the students.

Most of the day passes similarly, with some of your favorite students ecstatic to see you and others groaning over their book assignments. In Class 3-A, Amajiki almost forgot he was in public for a moment, speaking at a normal volume, excited for the prospect of another year hiding in your library while Hado scrunched her nose at the title of the first book of the year - As I Lay Dying. The second years had similarly mixed reactions. A few instinctively flipped through the book and paused at a chapter that simply consisted of, “My mother is a fish.” That caused an uproar and you had to placate the class with promises that no, that is not a wonky translation and we will discuss it when you get to that chapter, I promise.

With that exhausting class over, you collapse into your seat in the teacher’s lounge, needing a moment to rest before you even think about eating. Of course in this school, rest never comes so easy. Your moment of reprieve is interrupted by blood-filled coughing and you peek your eyes over your crossed arms to see former student, Toshinori Yagi.

You sigh and rustle in your desk for a tissue, seeing as his handkerchief was already stained and near-soaked. He accepts it with a small blush, muttering a thank you. “(y/n)-san, do you mind my asking how you manage all these classes?” Toshinori asks and gestures to his mess of paperwork and lesson plans, “I only have two classes and I haven’t even learned the names yet.”

Your lip quirks slightly, “Practice?” The non committal answer makes him groan. “Sorry I’m not of much help. I must go, though; It’s time for me to meet the classes you don’t know.” You can’t help but tease the younger man. When he was at U.A., you never imagined him in a teaching role and even now it’s hard to believe.

You gather the forty copies of The Catcher In The Rye in your bag, heaving it over your shoulder and struggling under its weight. Fifth period of the day is Class 1-A and you're pleased to see Shoto had the students arrange the desks in a Socratic circle during lunch.

Shoto obviously didn’t bother coming back to introduce you, so you’re left to approach the front alone. Before you get a chance to settle, a student is bowing at you and (loudly) introducing himself. “My name is Tenya Iida! It is a pleasure to meet another teacher!”

Shocked at the formality, your first response is to laugh lightly. You wave your hand at him, gesturing for him to sit again, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Iida. I taught your brother, Tensei. Please give him my best.”

“Yes, sensei!”

“Well, that is one introduction over,” You beam at the collection of students. There’s always a special feeling of first greeting a class. The dynamic of each group is still unknown and it allows you a chance to truly guide young minds. Class 1-A has a mix of students already brain-dead from Shoto’s test, a few interested students, and others that seem generally apathetic. Not too crazy for aspiring heros. You clear your throat and introduce yourself, “I will be your literature teacher throughout your school career. You may notice I am not in a hero costume; I am technically licensed but let’s say I’m a lover not a fighter.”

A boy with green hair shoots his hand into the air, “What’s your quirk? Do you have a hero name?”

“No hero name, as I have never truly done fieldwork. My quirk is best described as frozen time or anti-aging, but it works as a regenerative quirk on the cellular level. I taught even All-Might literature years ago, so please entrust me with any questions or concerns.”

The class seems astounded by that fact and Mineta (thank God for class sheets) protests, “But you’re like - a babe!” It causes you to frown and point a finger in the air.

“Okay, inappropriate but as it’s the first day of class, we will let that slide. I am hundreds of years old and your teacher. Please refrain from commenting on my attractiveness,” you say, cringing. The students laugh lightly at the reprimand. You’re glad to see the majority seem interested in you. “I understand Shoto did his usual first-day test, so I wanted to simply introduce myself, the concept of literature, and give out the first book of the year.”

“Every first-year follows the same curriculum as I believe these books are essential,” You speak, circling the students and handing each a copy. “Now, you may have read this before or you may have a different copy. I ask that you read this version, as I translated it personally and believe it to be most accurate to the spirit of the novel.” Some students look at the book as if it would bite. Iida and a few others hang onto every word - it’s refreshing to know some students won’t resist general education. “I will see you once a week and, with deference to other studies, will ask how far you guys think you can get into the book each week. For now, I only ask that you read the first two chapters before we meet again. Any questions?”

A blonde boy loudly scoffs, leaning back so his chair is balanced on two legs. “Yeah - why should I?”

You pause in your pacing around the circle. “Should do what?” You ask, cocking your head to the side.

“Waste my time reading this crap!”

The rest of the students watch with rapt attention. It’s common to have an unruly student; lots of young people wish to push boundaries and you understand the urgency many hero students feel. Unruliness is the definition of the hero course and you would be more unnerved if there was no attempt to fight. “Well, Bakugo-san, I wish to ask you to treat me with the same respect you would any other teacher. Literature is…,” You falter, looking for the words to express the power of words. The feeling you wish to convey sends you hurtling through your personal history. Times when there was nothing but books for company and times before quirks were truly accepted. Even times when All for One ruled the world. You settle on saying, “I have lived many lifetimes, in many places. The things I have seen, the lessons I have learned… it doesn’t get easier, no matter how ancient I am. Literature is a way to impart some of those lessons in a controlled environment. I came to U.A. years ago hoping to guide young people and the school has allowed me to do so.

“Besides like I said, I have taught All-Might and, well, if it worked for him, should it not be good enough for you?” You finish with an eyebrow raise. The class ooh’s at the challenge but the blond boy huffs, giving in slightly. You are too experienced to believe that will be the only challenge. “Right, well, let me introduce the novel! The author, J. D. Salinger, wrote this novel in the 1950’s. I was also in America in the 1950’s and personally….”

#bnha #bnha x fem!reader #class 1-a needs a hug #teacher reader #mama hen for class 1-a #bnha x reader #class 1a x reader

[wdwmarveldisney]

Rumours

Scott McCall x fem!reader

Royalty AU

Summary: Princess Y/N (soon to be Queen) and her sisters have to find suitors by the end of the ball tonight or their parents will choose for them. What happens when all of her focus goes into her small investigation into the rumours of werewolves instead?

A/N: Ok so this is for @demxters writing challenge. Don’t know if it’s too late but I like it so I’m gonna post it. It is a royalty AU so that was fun to right. Also I think Scott is a little cocky in this so you have been warned.

Masterlist

Gif isn’t mine

Just to make things clear, you weren't the most fond of being dressed up like a doll and paraded around in front of suitors. You also hated that you didn't have worth until you had a man. Your father and mother, King and Queen of the kingdom, had organised a ball in honour of you and your sisters and had insisted you'd try to find your suitors by the end of the night or they'd been chosen for you. All three of you had been told that in order for the man to be worthy he must have a wealthy kingdom, highly respected and, of course, want to continue his bloodline. Your father had added that you should also feel something for him and that one was really a priority but your mother had disagreed. She was difficult like that. But even though you hated her views and all of this, you didn't have it as bad as your youngest sister. She had a major crush on her maid, Tammy, and it was something she'd only shared with you and your other sister and she was distraught when she found out she'd have to pick someone soon. Said whatever man threw himself at her first would do because she'd never be interested in any.

But back to being dressed up like a doll. Though you may despise it, you didn't look half bad in the lilac ball gown or the small tiara. Actually, having your hair braided in a crown suited you. And with the few touches of makeup, dare say you looked gorgeous. Relaxing your shoulders and shaking out your hands, you took a deep breath. A necklace was placed on you by your maid Charlene, a small gold chain with a circle pendant. Smiling at the girl through the mirror, you watched her curtsy and leave. With nobody else in the room and a good five minutes until they collected you, you reached under your bed and pulled out a box. Inside were papers, all connected with information on sightings of wild dogs though most claimed it to be a creature of the devil, a werewolf. You loved a good mystery and you loved a good secret so you investigating these cases without anyone knowing was thrilling. And though you believe yourself to be rational, the only logical conclusion you had brought up was in fact werewolves. Always on a full moon, always human like dog figures, in a pack and you had heard of someone even calming them down enough that their eyes didn't glow the strange colours they allegedly did. Another thing you had found out was that there had been a link brought up between said werewolves and a prince of a neighbouring kingdom. A Prince who was attending the ball tonight.

The plan was simple, dance with a few other men then eventually him. When you reach him, strike up a conversation about his kingdom then bring up you'd heard faint rumours about wild dogs near there. Watch his reaction and deem whether the questioning should go further. Maybe push a little more even when it seems like he doesn't know. Whatever you could do to get the truth and if you couldn't get it from him, see if there's anyone he looks to or talks to straight after. You liked to believe that over the many years you have spent training to be Queen (being the oldest and all) you'd learnt the art of observation. You'd learnt little ticks and traits most people had and had even been able to pick up on other non obvious ones. I mean it was you who had noticed the last cook lie about the stolen necklace and had managed to make him confess through a few psychological tricks you picked up. Or when you can tell your parents are lying or your sisters' are keeping something from you, you know. So this should be easy.

Hearing the distant echo of heels, you kicked the box carelessly under your bed and rushed to sit in the seat before your mirror as your hands moved to the corset. It was tighter than usual, no doubt upon your mother's request. She'd made it clear she thought you were putting on weight, cutting your meals down and making you walk around the grounds more. Said you spent too much time in your room when in reality you had just snook out to investigate by borrowing Charlene's spare uniform which you always washed after. Your mother disapproved with anything that wasn't related to royal duty and had always shut down your detective side growing up.

Speak of the devil.

"The ball's starting. I suggest you start heading down," you gave a faint nod at her words, not looking her way until she sighed. Your mother raised an eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes before smiling brightly and straightening out your posture. She nodded before walking away and as soon as she was out of sight, you relaxed with a frown curving your lips down. You paused for a second, debating whether you really wanted to go or not but you had to. You threw your head back with a groan before standing up and leaving the room. Your sisters were waiting outside your room, both slumping against the wall as they spoke to one another. "What are you guys doing? We said we'd meet there," You began to make your way down the hall, your sisters quickly catching up and matching your quick pace as they laughed. "What's got you so paranoid? Worried about a certain someone maybe?"

"No, she doesn't leave this place, how could she be expecting to see someone?" Your jaw dropped at Anna's words, glancing to a laughing Victoria. Rolling your eyes, you reached up to fiddle with your necklace as your sisters grinned to each other. "Very mature. I'm actually more worried about the fact mother is watching over, she's literally the most intimidating when she's staring at you from the other side of the room over a glass of wine and a coy smile," Both nodded as the three of you stopped at the door, Anna sighing as she nodded to the guard who smiled in return and opened the door to inform them of the announcement. "I hate this," you chuckled at Anna, fixing your dress as your nerves got the better of you, "No, you hate men," Victoria giggled at the way Anna's face dropped as you just smirked. The youngest shook her head as she frowned, "You can't say that! What if mother and father hear? I'd be disowned!" You both stopped laughing just as Anna's name was called, the girl entering the hall with an unbelievable amount of grace and you prayed you wouldn't make a fool of yourself when you had to.

-

Walking down the stairs with all eyes on you is scary enough but when you almost trip on your gown, it's ten times worse. Thankfully no one had pointed it out or laughed (minus your sisters that is) and you could pretend like it didn't happen. Now though, you stood to the side and watched the dance take place whilst waiting for a certain Prince to join. Of course, he was too busy talking to his friends and joking around and it did not look like he was going to anytime soon. "Hey loser. How's it spending the night by yourself?" You sent the giggling girl a sarcastic smile before you went back to observing. "First of all Victoria, that was extremely rude. Second, it's only ten minutes in and third, I have to be just a little drunk to handle all this so," you downed the rest of your wine, immediately reaching for another two glasses from the guy who had just walked past with a thankful nod and small smile.

Victoria rolled her eyes as she copied you actions of taking another glass and raising an eyebrow as you downed both glasses one after another. Her eyes scanned the rest of the room and a small snort from her caught your attention and you followed her gaze only to see your mother's disappointed expression and harsh glare. You scoffed, reaching to one of the chocolates on the table behind you and leaving the glasses there, "Oh, is she disappointed? How unfortunate," Victoria laughed at your comment before her attention was taken away and she was waving to one of the guys across the room. She handed you the half finish glass and turned so her back was towards the guy as she adjusted her dress and fixed her hair, "Look good, right?" You grabbed another chocolate as you nodded and she patted your hand that held the wine glass, "I'll leave you with that. Have fun being a disappointment," she commented and you smirked at the words, a light laugh leaving your lips, "Oh, you know I will," you both chuckled at your words, her walking off to the guy as you downed the rest of her wine and continued to observe.

You saw the Prince talking with one of his friends who was nervously glancing towards one of the guards from his kingdom by the look of things and you grinned. Your eyes went to Anna who nodded along bored by the guy in front of her. Her gaze kept going to the maid by the stairs who was taking round some of the foods and chatting away with one of the other maids. You chuckled at the jealousy radiating off her and how oblivious everyone else (except Victoria, of course) was to it. Placing the glass down and adjusting your tiara, you straightened out your posture and made your way to the dance floor, noticing the way the prince was repeatedly glancing at you when he saw. You sent a sweet smile back, watching as he blushed and stuttered over his words, not that you were close enough to hear but you could see from where you were. You began to dance with a guy, some Lord or Duke. To be honest, you didn't really listen to his introduction after hearing how cocky and self-centered he was from the first few words to leave his mouth. You fake a smile, making sure he and anyone else knew that it wasn't real.

At some point, the prince had disappeared from his place at the side of the ballroom and as you stared round trying to find him, you moved to the next guy and sparing a glance to the one you're dancing with now. You continue to look round but do a double take when it finally registers that he's right in front of you. He laughs at your expression, seeming more confident than before after seeing you splutter in shock. Soon enough, you regain your posture and small smirk that he smiles at. "And who may you be?" He grinned at the mischievous expression you had, spinning you before answering, "Scott McCall. No need to ask who you are, m'lady," you scoffed at his words, rolling your eyes at his tone. You shook your head, trying to find the best way to continue the conversation to get it where you needed it. Why not just jump straight into it?

"I think I've heard of your place. Rumours of werewolves, right?" You watched him tense and a small frown form on his lips. He continued to dance with you but he didn’t seem to interested in conversation anymore. “Oh come on,” you chuckled as he spun you out, rolling your eyes at his expression. “Think they’re real?” He rolled his eyes this time, relaxing at the look on your face. With the slight shake of his head, he bowed to you as the music came to an end. One glance over your shoulder and you grabbed his hand to drag him over to a far corner. “I don’t necessarily believe anything without proof,” you nodded, taking in his words and laughed at how he completely dodged answering. The two of you stopped when you were a little further away from everyone else. You leant against the wall, smirk on your lips as you countered, “You’re avoiding the question. So,” you bit your lip, unable to bite back the grin at the fact you were so close to the end of the mystery, “What do you know? Are you the person that calms them down or, even better, are you one of them?” He looked tense, scoffing at the suggestion as he played with a ring on his finger. He was nervous so whatever words came out his mouth next had to be a lie. “I’m not, I’m not one of them,” you saw him look up at the growing grin on your face, the mischief and pride in your eyes. A breathy laugh left you lips as your hand went up to play with the necklace, “Oh my god, you’re a, I mean I thought maybe because when I went out and stuff, investigating’s hard, a lot of people had heard a connection with you and, well I thought that maybe they were wrong but, wow, they had it spot on, didn’t they?” He looked shocked at your rambles and you realised that you let slip you were investigating, “You can’t tell anyone that. My mother will kill me if she found out,” he sighed, nodding and looking back to the ring. He seemed to be figuring something out, face scrunched up in thought, “A secret for a secret,” he smiled at the way you were quick to agree. Shaking his head, he laughed before looking to someone across the room, “Derek’s gonna kill me,”

“Is he the alpha?” You asked, following his gaze to the guard the boy was staring at earlier. He had his eyes fixed on you with a fierce glare and you sent a cheeky smile and wave back. When you turned back to Scott, he was already looking at you. “No, he’s a beta. You can tell from the eyes,” he gestured a finger around his and you grinned at everything you were learning. Practically jumping with excitement, you asked, “Well, what about you?” He flashed his eyes at you, the blood red almost mesmerising and he smiled at the awed look on your face. “Red, alpha,” you giggled making him blush, standing up straight and placing your hands on his cheeks to bring him down for a closer look, “So cool,” you mumbled, eyes flickering between his before you realised he was looking at your lips, the red fading from his eyes. With a slightly forced chuckle and growing blush, you took a step back. “Yeah, I don’t kiss on a first meeting. Try third or fifth,” he smiled at the half smirk, half grin on your lips. He nodded in understanding yet still took your hands in his. “Well, I was thinking, maybe, I could come back tomorrow and we could walk around the kingdom or you know, just the garden,” you tilted your head for a second, pretending to think as he laughed at your antics, “I think I’m too busy learning to be a stone hearted bitch from my mother but I could clear my schedule,” you both chuckled, hands swinging slightly between you.

With a sigh, you glanced over his shoulder at Anna, talking to his friend from before. “Who’s that? I saw you talking to him earlier, he was staring at Derek. Actually, he still is,” Scott spun round and smiled at the sight of the brunet, “That’s Stiles. He kinda has a thing for Derek,” you sighed as you watched Anna stare at Tammy from across the room, clearly obsessed with the girl, “Well, he’d be a perfect fit for my sister. Maybe we should go over and tell them they both have love life problems that could be solved by getting together,” he raised an eyebrow at you so you explained, “She likes Tammy, her maid. Maybe if the two were to court and they married, lived in a castle alone together with said infatuations of theirs, they could be happy,”

He nodded, glancing back to see them both blushing messes and you saw him become slightly more concentrated before he looked back to you with a growing grin, “No need, they’re putting it all together themselves,” you smiled, watching them talk enthusiastically about it all, clearly very happy with the plan they were creating. “So,” you put all your focus back on Scott and smiled at his grin, “What time should I come by tomorrow?”

#elle’s1.3kauwc #scott mccall #teen wolf imagine #scott mccall x you #scott mccal imagine #Scott McCall x reader #royalty au

[dcforts]

[something more]

ao3.

Dean never wants to go to hunter gatherings.

First, because they don't exactly have the best track record when it comes to meeting other hunters, and second, because whenever they go there's always people looking at them like they’re freaks. He knows they tell all sorts of stories about them and some are hard, ugly truths that Dean would rather stop thinking about for the rest of his life.

But he's got a text from Carol while he was about to get in the car after wrapping up a case, and Sam asked who it was, so it had become a Thing to discuss.

And Dean’s main argument was “Why would we go?”, but Sam’s was “Why not?”, which was objectively stronger. And it got worse because from the backseat Jack kept interjecting with, “Go where?” and, “Who are these people?” until Sam paid attention to him and explained that hunters meet up sometimes to “get a drink, exchange stories”, and that had made him light up like a Christmas tree because Jack loved stories and the idea of expanding his pool of knowledge on hunting and creatures appealed to him greatly.

So the fact that Dean had tried to point out that, “This is stupid. We are hunters, not a book club,” had sorted no effect whatsoever. No, instead, Jack had said, “That sounds nice. We should go,” and when Dean had met Cas’ eyes in the rear view mirror, all he had offered was a shrug.

Typical.

It’s not that Dean wants to be a hermit or something, but he always feels like he needs to be wary of who’s gonna be at these sorts of things because some may treat them like Hollywood stars, but some may want to shoot them on sight. Anyone could come up to them and call them out for starting the end of the world, letting monsters out of Hell and Purgatory, cosmic beings out of their cages, getting their family killed, destroying their lives.

And there’s also this: are they really ready for Jack’s debut in society? Sam thinks they are. He thinks it’s a great opportunity to show that the community doesn’t have anything to worry about. He’s with them now and he’s not going anywhere so they should get used to that. Cas says he’ll be there to intervene in case things go south and Dean’s mind flashes with Carol’s house burning to the ground after Cas’ has gone all mama swan on the hunters. He meets Sam’s eyes briefly and it looks like he had the exact same images playing in front of his eyes, “I’m sure it won’t be necessary," he adds quickly.

So Sam wanted to go and Jack wanted to go and Cas didn’t seem to be able to say no to the kid even if he tried, so Dean had to bite his cheek and wake up early the next morning to drive across the state.

At least it’s a nice day, at least it stopped raining and the sun is breaking in from the clouds; the chilly air that comes in from the window that Cas is in the habit of keeping rolled all the way down brings in the pleasant smell of wet leaves.

Dean feels his knees bumping on the back of his seat from time to time and looks at him in the rear view mirror and Cas sometimes catches his eyes and sometimes he doesn’t.

At least they are spending time together. It’s rare for Cas to stay around after a hunt these days. He doesn’t need the down time they require, or so he says. He gets bored in the bunker, starts climbing the walls the second the door closes behind them. He gets restless, and then there’s Heaven and always bigger things to deal with, and Dean imagines that that beats staying behind to play foosball with him and Jack.

Going on hunts with Cas is always fun, but it’s also a run against time and there’s death and guns and fear involved, even when it’s an easy-peasy salt-and-burn. And it’s the four of them crammed in a motel room, so they don’t get much time to be alone. And Dean likes when they are all together, but likes it more when Sam and Jack disappear in the maze of the bunker and he gets to have his best friend all for himself.

That is why Dean had been pleased when Cas had expressed his intention of staying with them for a couple more days. In that moment Dean had been busy keeping his lunch in his stomach - he’d just found the shredded skin of a shapeshifter in a freaking kitchen drawer - but he’d heard him loud and clear all the same.

They were moving about in the victim’s house looking for clues and talking about other stuff, when Cas had said something along the lines of, “I could work on it once we go back to the bunker,” and Dean had asked, half distracted, “So you’re going back with us?” and Cas had his back turned and Dean had opened the drawer in that moment, but he'd heard him when he’d said:

“I guess.”

It was barely a whisper but it meant yes, that’s all that mattered. And it also meant, from Dean’s perspective, a really nice weekend, that included, not in order of importance: his hot dog pants, driving around with the music up, Dean’s cave and Cas.

So, yeah, if Dean was completely honest with himself – something that he generally tried to avoid – it’s not like he wanted to waste a whole day of that to go spend it with a bunch of strangers.

But it doesn’t matter now, because they’ve piled up in the Impala and driven to Carol’s.

Dean likes her. She spent half her life working at a bank, but after crossing path with a djinn she hanged her suit, moved out of the city and created a safe place for hunters, soon becoming a beacon in the community in Kansas. Her door is always open, as she said that one time they met her on a case. Dean likes her for no-nonsense ways, her honest looks and, not less importantly, her amazing sandwiches.

Carol fusses over him and Sam in the hall, scolds them for taking so long to visit when they live in the same state, then Sam makes the introductions, and it’s only his shifting a little from side to side that betrays his nervousness.

Her eyes focus on Cas and her expression speaks of wonder and surprise.

“The angel Castiel,” she calls him and he nods, “a long way from Heaven.”

“The weather here is nicer,” he says, and Dean snorts softly next to him.

Jack wins her over immediately with his wide smile and polite hand shake, “I look forward to exchanging stories,” he says and she huffs a laugh and says:

“Sure, Jack. We heard a lot about you. I bet everyone will be eager to talk to you.”

On the other side of Cas, Sam gets more fidgety; he says, “If you think uh – we don’t want any trouble.”

But she shakes her head and gestures dismissively. “Nonsense. No one will start trouble if they don't wanna see the end of my rifle. A friend of yours is a friend of mine,” she reassures him. “Plus, Eileen vouched for him.”

“Sh-she is here already?” Sam almost chokes up and all of the sudden he seems to have grown a few inches taller.

Dean understands now. He pieces together his insistence in coming to this thing, his bouncing knee throughout their journey, the way he checked his phone more or less forty-five times. He feels slightly less bad about having caved in. There are a lot of things that Dean would give up for Sam, and things that he would conjure out of thin air just for him to have, if he could. But there’s so much he can’t give him and he wants Sam to just get out and take, have and enjoy. So if he wanted to come here just to meet Eileen again, Dean’s happy to be complicit.

Sam is the first to disappear in the packed living room, with Jack following right behind, but Dean grabs Castiel’s elbow before he can take another step. He circles him to block him from the entrance and says, “Hey, stick with me, alright? Last time I was at one of these things this guy Norman talked about his knife collection for three hours.”

“But, Jack…”

“He’s with Sam, he’s gonna be fine,” says Dean, dismissing. He grins, “Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people; don’t you wanna make friends?”

Cas makes a face but doesn't say anything else. Apparently Jack is not the only one who he seems unable to refuse something to and that makes Dean feel good. He trails after him around the room as Dean stops to say hello from familiar face to familiar face.

There’s Max and Alicia, sprawled on a couch, nursing the worst hangover Dean’s seen in a long time. They say they're happy to see him, but then they eye Cas up and down and Max says something along the lines of, “Oh, I see now why you keep him hidden from us," and that prompts Dean to quickly move along.

Then they bump into this old man who claims to have been one of the patrons of the Roadhouse. Dean has no idea who he is, but he swears he remembers him from when he was a boy - of course he remembers, and hey, if he needs anything, did he know that he was retired but still kept an eye out for monster sightings, and did he hear of that one time he and Bill Harvelle -

Dean tries to nod and smile appropriately for the whole time and when they finally manage to escape him, Cas leads him to an empty corner where they can take refuge.

"I didn't think there would be this many people," Cas says, surveying the room clearly looking for Jack.

Dean elbows him and points at where the kid is talking animatedly to two young hunters he's never seen, "What is he even talking about?"

"Our last case."

"Wh-? Oh, right, I always forget you have the superhearing," then he has a thought and adds, "Hey, you gonna tell me if you hear someone talking shit about me, right?"

Cas' eyebrows raise in thinly veiled amusement and that's all the answer Dean needs, "What? Who?" he asks, outraged.

But Cas doesn't have time to answer before they get interrupted and soon surrounded by hunters Dean's seen on the road, worked with, heard about. Some share their epic tales of escapes from impossible dangers, some are curious and some are brave and blunt and they ask Cas questions and address him without fear and Cas is polite and just a tiny bit awkward.

It gets a little chilly when this guy with too many beers in starts bragging about how he knows all about angels' weaks spots. Cas' face stays as stony as it gets for the whole time but then he says “I suggest you check your sources,” with a deep voice that runs a shiver down Dean’s spine, and he’s not even the one who’s directing his intense gaze at.

There are so many different people that Cas doesn't stick out like a sore thumb, and Dean finds himself thinking that if they were just two regular hunters in a crowd and nothing more, perhaps some things would be easier.

He almost sighs of relief when he eyes Eileen on the other side of the room and steers Cas towards her.

"I can't believe I still haven't had a single beer," he mutters as they elbow their way through the crowd. Sam hovers around her with a timid smile plastered on his face that doesn’t seem to take any breaks.

Dean hugs her and tries not to follow Cas’ movement with the corner of his eyes when he senses him stepping away from his side.

Eileen calls his attention back. She makes fun of him saying, “Sam told me you didn’t want to come. Getting too old to leave the house?”

“Very funny,” Dean says.

“Next time we can organize something at the bunker. There’s so much space," she says, smirking.

Dean thinks 'Yeah, no way' and says, “Yeah, no way,” and she laughs.

“But you,” Dean adds, “you can come stay with us. Anytime. For as long as you want. We would love to have you. Me, Sam,” he says wiggling his eyebrows in a way that has his brother close his eyes in embarrassment, “you’re always welcome.”

“Thank you,” she signs, blushing a little, “I’ll try to come by.”

Dean is glad to know that. She has opened a door in Sam’s life that he probably thought closed forever and Dean will always be grateful to her for that. Also, she is a badass and totally out of his brother’s dorky league.

Cas comes standing by his side again and Dean feels a gentle touch on the small of his back. It's intimate and unexpected so he steps away immediatly almost on instict and Cas' drops his hand. He meets his gaze and they frown at each other for a second. Cas seems about to say something, but then goes back to sporting his usual face, “I think I saw Claire. I’m going to find her.”

So Dean, with that spot on his lower back still tingling, follows him out of the room and into another where there’s only a few scattered hunters and Jack, happily squeezed on a couch with his new friends, his mouth hanging open as he hears a story from this guy named Ronnie that Dean knows for a fact only talks shit. The kid seems to be having fun though, he waves at them as move along.

They find Claire in the empty white kitchen, and catch her right when she’s about to open herself a beer. Her eyes widen in panic but she doesn’t manage to hide the bottle behind her back fast enough.

“Hey guys,” she says with a nervous laugh, “didn’t know you were going to be here.”

Dean stretches out a hand without a word and she drops the act, sighs and hands it over. Before she can say anything else, Cas steps between them, "Claire, it's nice to see you," he says and she lets him squeeze her into a hug.

Pressed against his shoulder, Dean sees her face change expression, her body slightly relax in his arms. She pats him on the back and says: “Good to see you too, Cas.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Just passing through,” she replies, putting on airs, “Finished up a job a few miles north. I thought I’d drop by Carol’s before moving on.”

She flips a strand of blonde hair over her shoulder and Dean scoffs.

“So you are in Kansas, and you don’t call, and you drop by Carol’s? Were you even planning on stopping by the bunker?”

She rolls her eyes at him, “I go where the job takes me, Dean. I don’t make plans.”

Dean rolls his eyes in the exact same way, “Right. Well, you know it wouldn’t kill you to stay with us for a while. We could get you a bit of training.”

She groans as if she's heard that same speech about a thousand times, but Cas cuts off whatever she was going to retort with and says, “We weren’t planning on coming either. Sam and Jack are here too.”

“Jack’s here?” she lights up. She says she's heard all sorts of things about him and she can’t wait to meet the kid and of course she’s gonna go easy on him, it’s not like she’s gonna eat him, Jesus, Dean, protective much?

Dean frowns at her but she’s already halfway out of the room. “I can be his big sister. I mean, he should have someone he can talk to. Living with you three must be – a lot.”

“Hey,” protests Dean, but she just laughs and disappears down the hallway.

Dean shakes his head and leans against one of the kitchen counters. Cas does the same against the opposite island. At the end of the narrow passage between the furniture there’s a glass door that gives into the patio and a small garden beyond it.

The door is ajar and fresh air comes in; Cas gets engrossed in watching the pattern the raindrops formed on the glass and Dean gets engrossed in watching Cas. He seems lost in thought and Dean would like to say something but doesn’t want to be annoying. Not today, not when tomorrow he could be gone.

He’ll take this quiet moment instead.

“She’ll be a bad influence on Jack,” he breaks the silence, and that gets him an amused quirk of lips, “But it really would be nice to have her around more often.”

Curiously that has Cas' take his eyes away from the glass and lay his gaze on him. He has his lips pressed in a small smile.

“What?”

“You want people you love around you.”

Dean frowns, “What about it?” he asks, and it comes out sharp and defensive.

Cas shakes his head a little, but there’s a shadow on his face that confuses him: “Nothing, I only meant -" but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because a group of hunters enters the kitchen talking loudly and soon Dean has his vision blocked by half a dozen bodies and he has to press himself against the cabinets to let them through, towards the garden door.

One guy in a baseball cap stops in his track as he sees Dean.

He asks with his eyes wide and stunned expression if he is Dean Winchester, the Dean Winchester and Dean is glad that the rest of the group is already out of earshot because he wasn’t in the mood for a meet and greet session. But the guy starts talking about some hunter named Troy, who he has supposedly hunted with a couple of years back. And Dean’s not in a habit of calling people liars but he's pretty sure he'd remember if he had wiped out a nest of fangs with this guy and allegedly taken down five all on his own and went and get steaks and beer afterwards.

He tries to shoot him down gently and say, “Maybe your friend had me confused with someone else,” but the guy’s face falls and tells him Troy has recently passed on the job and this was his favourite story to tell, and he would always tell it, all proud and all.

Dean pats him on a shoulder then.

“You know what, we shouldn’t ruin it for him now, should we? Troy, you say? Of course I remember him,” he says and throws in a wink. The guy beams at him and thanks him and gets a little chocked up because Troy might have been a liar but he swears he was one of the good ones.

The guy invites him to join his friends for a drink but Dean raises his half-empty bottle and says “I’m fine, thanks.”

When the guy walks away, Cas moves to lean on the counter by his side. Dean feels the familiar weight of his arm against his and he wonders if they could pick up the conversation where they left it. But Cas says:

“That was nice of you.”

Dean shrugs looking down at their shoes lined up and for some reason he thinks it’s a funny sight. If they were just two shoe wearing creatures standing side by side and nothing more, perhaps some things would be easier.

“Doesn't really change my life. And it's a good story,” he huffs a laugh, it comes out bitter, “Better than some of the true ones anyway.”

“I understand what you mean,” says Cas with a sigh and Dean extends his arm to offer him his beer, and even though Cas usually refuses, this time he takes it.

Dean does his best not to follow his hand bringing the bottle to his lips. And he does his best, later, not to wonder if the wetness touching his lips when he drinks is just beer or something else.

If they were just two drinking creatures, sharing a bottle of beer and nothing more, perhaps everything would be easier.

Soon the bottle is empty and Cas says, “I’ll get you another one,” but Dean refuses.

It’s nice there - someone's turned the music on in the other room, but here it's muffled by the walls, and the light is just right to make Cas’ eyes look like sapphires. They don’t need to move.

But then the group of hunters out in the patio erupts in laughter and Cas’ gaze shifts on them and then lingers on the glass door.

Dean feels him slipping from him once again. He sighs, “You wanna go out, check the garden?”

Cas nods and heads out and Dean can’t do anything but follow, past the hunters and the patio. They walk the perimeter of the small square of grass, wet and glistening with old rain. The sun and the clouds draw patches of light on the ground and they move from dark to light to dark again in an irregular rhythm, chasing the warmth of the sunlight and the relief of the shade. Dean feels uncomfortable in both, but there’s no middle line he can walk on.

“Sorry we dragged you here,” he finds himself saying, “You never stick around, and for once that you do, that’s what you get.”

Cas frowns slightly at him, “I stick around,” he protests.

Dean laughs, “You don’t,” he says and although he tries to reign it in with the bitterness, it stills seeps out. Cas’ gaze prompts him to explain himself, “Come on, the minute we’re done with a case you are out of here. I don’t blame you,” he quickly adds cutting off whatever Cas was opening his mouth to say. “I know you don’t like sitting around. Believe me, no one understands that more than I do.”

A long beat passes and then Cas says, “I’m sorry, I never meant to make you feel like I don’t want to spend time with you.”

Dean stops in his tracks and Cas stops with him to face him.

Dean shakes his head, “Cas, you don’t have to apologize to me. This is not about me. And I said, I get it,” he shrugs.

Cas doesn’t look at all convinced and Dean doesn’t feel at all convinced either. He knows this is not about his feelings. It’s more like a general way of how things are. It’s a truth, a fact. Sam would say the same.

Sam would. Standing here in the garden with him, Sam would tell him the very same things and wish for the very same things. He’s sure he would. He's not accusing Cas of anything. On the contrary, he’s showing him understanding.

“It’s all the same for me, I swear. I don't care,” he adds, but saying that hurts a little, for some reason he can’t quite determine, and he finds his own frown mirrored on Cas’ face.

“Alright,” he says, sounding profoundly sad and again the same shadow passes on his face.

This is all wrong. What did he do?

“Look, I don’t get what you want me to say. If you wanted to - ” he exhales, angrily, “Just - forget it, let’s go back inside,” he says but as he tries to walk away Cas stops him by his elbow.

“You could ask me.”

He looks unsure, troubled, as if he is not quite certain this is a good idea. Dean breathes out a confused, “What?” that he himself can barely hear.

Cas squares his shoulders, “To stay. You could ask me,” he sounds accusing, and he takes a step forward. His eyes are firm in Dean’s and with his elbow still in his grip, he feels like a hummingbird flapping his wings in the paw of a dragon, “You ask everybody else.”

Dean’s heart starts pounding. He tries to swallow but his mouth is too dry.

“I don’t wanna ask you, Cas,” he says, cutting, yanking his arm free of his hold, and it sounds bad, bad, bad to his ears and he can read hurt all over Cas’ face. He needs to explain himself. He takes a breath, says a lame, “I mean, if you don't -”

And then, Dean suddenly understands.

Cas thinks he doesn’t -

He thinks he doesn’t care if he’s around and doesn’t ask because he doesn’t need him.

Dean feels like his heart is about to leap out of his chest. He’s not ready for this. He’s not ready for this. He fights the need to look down. He doesn’t know why this is so hard for him. It’s just Cas. But that’s the point, isn’t it? It’s Cas. It would hurt ten times more if he were to say no. It’s nothing like with Claire, he asked her for her; it’s nothing like with Eileen, he asked her for Sam. But if he asked Cas, he would be asking for himself, wouldn’t he?

Seeing him walk away anyway would be too much then.

But maybe he wouldn’t.

Cas senses his struggle, “If you want, you can ask me,” he says, coming closer, in his eyes his timeless patience, that gaze that tells him that he is seen, he is known. Cas says: “I will say yes,” and it’s barely more than a whisper but Dean’s brain is a step away from short-circuiting anyway.

He looks away and he doesn’t recognize his own voice when he blurts out a hurried, muttered, nervous, almost angry: “Well, stay, then.”

But then a sunbeam decides to cut through the clouds in that exact moment and has Dean looking up again. The lazy sunlight of an early afternoon shines on Cas’ face. He’s not bothered by the sudden change of light, unlike Dean, who has to squint and bring a hand to his forehead.

Cas’ eyes sparkle like shimmering water when he says, “Okay.”

Dean barely remembers what happens after that. That image gets imprinted behind his eyelids and he can’t stop thinking about it.

He floats through a darts game and a dozen of Carol’s sandwiches. Then there's Jack telling an embarrassing story about him that has people folding in two with laughter, and Claire agreeing on following them back to the bunker only with the promise of destroying him at foosball.

There's Sam introducing him to this lady to work a job together on alledged arachnes activity in Winsconsin and a girl who wants him to debunk some stuff she's heard about them but she doesn't believe (he disappoints her cause they are mostly true) but most importantly, there's Cas' thigh pressed against his when he's sitting and Cas’ shoulder just an inch away when he's standing, and somehow it's different than it was before.

Most of all, he feels lighter than he's felt in ages.

*

Later, as he gets to his car with Sam, he says, “Hey, you know, you were right. It was a little fun,” and his brother looks at him in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me? We came here to meet new people and you spent all your time with Cas.”

Dean shrugs, embarrassed to be called out. “So what? You spent all your time with Eileen,” he says and he regrets it immediately, especially as Sam purses his lips like he’s holding back a laugh.

He nods, “I see your point,” he says diplomatically, stressing the t, before he slips into the passenger seat.

Dean doesn’t look forward in continuing the conversation, crammed in a small space with his ears burning and Sam’s gigantic enquiring eyes on him, thank you very much, so he stays out of the car, his arms crossed on the roof, frowning at himself.

He watches as Cas comes down the little pathway with Jack and Claire. In the orange light of the sunset, Jack turns to ask him something and Cas nods. Typical. At the end of the path they split and only Cas makes his way across the street.

"Jack is riding with Claire," he says as soon as he's within earshot. He sounds like he doesn't think it's a good idea and it's a little funny.

"Relax, we're gonna be right behind them."

Cas seems reassured by that, but it only lasts the time it takes for him to make his way around the car, because even before he can grab the car handle, Claire speeds past them shouting, "See you, dorks." Now he looks truly alarmed.

Dean says, "You up for a ride after we drop Sam off?” and all his worry melts away from his face. He says a soft, “Alright,” and disappears into the backseat.

So when they get to the bunker, Dean doesn't follow Claire’s car to the garage and stops up front, the engine running. Sam looks at him confused, “We’ll be here in an hour,” Dean just says, grateful for the shadows around his face.

Sam is stunned for just a second, then snorts, “Fine guys, I’ll babysit tonight, but next time you gotta ask.”

He gets out and the next moment Cas has taken his seat. He doesn't waste time to pop one of Dean's tapes in the deck as he takes the road again.

Dean rolls his window down and in the night air that ruffles his hair he can smell another storm coming. He turns the music up and meets Cas’ eyes. There’s a smile in there somewhere that mirrors his own.

And - they may not be just two individuals in a car going nowhere and nothing more, and things may not be easy, probably never will, but maybe, Dean thinks, it doesn’t really matter in the end.

#deancas #deancas ficlet #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #destiel #4.9k #this is about how dumb they are #'why doesn't he stay VS why doesn't he ask me to stay' kind of dumb #their usual basically #jack claire and eileen are in this #i wish we got to see more of the hunter community cooperating #in the beginning there were waaay less people - then i guess i just miss crowds #how do you do titles #spncreatorsdaily #my writing #ive been working on this for ages and im still not sure i did it right