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#i need to remind myself of my friends who literally started an entire huge deep dive into a new series because we've been having fun-

thebluespirit83 · 3 years

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debunking pro-snape/anti-james arguments and putting it on the internet because clearly i hate myself. buckle up. this is gonna be a VERY long post. im ready for the amount of hate i will get; im willing to take one for the team.

1. james forced lily into dating/marrying/etc him

this literally never happened? because its almost as if lily is her own person who is able to stand up for herself-

“I wouldn’t go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid,” said Lily.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Lily shouted. She had her own wand out now. James and Sirius eyed it warily.

She turned on her heel and hurried away [from james].

-and so she would not allow someone to walk all over her. its almost as if james (canonically) matured as a person, and she appreciated this, realised he was a good person and got feelings for him? because james’ only negative traits were that he was conceited and a show off. people are able to mature and grow from these things! james did this! he did not ‘force’ lily to go out with him!

2. james and the other marauders bullied snape

you know what, i cant even disagree with this one. you’re right - they did bully him. but lets look a little bit at the context.

sirius and james were both upper class, naive white rich boys. they are idiots. they were both stupid smart teenagers!! they were popular! and while this does not excuse the gross bullying snape was subject to-

Pink soap bubbles streamed from Snape’s mouth at once; the froth was covering his lips, making him gag, choking him

Several people watching laughed; Snape was clearly unpopular ... Snape was trying to get up, but the jinx was still operating on him; he was struggling, as though bound by invisible ropes.

-it (unfortunately) makes sense with context. james and sirius also stopped bullying people, and even expressed discomfort/regret with the way they acted-

“I’m not proud of it,” said Sirius quickly.

“Of course he was a bit of an idiot!” said Sirius bracingly, “we were all idiots!

[sirius talking to remus] you made us feel ashamed of ourselves sometimes

A lot of people are idiots at the age of fifteen. He grew out of it.

-when they were younger! i’d also like to point out these little lines i noticed when i was finding quotes for my argument which snape stans like to ignore:

James and Snape hated each other from the moment they set eyes on each other

I mean, he [snape] never lost an opportunity to curse James

there was a flash of light and a gash appeared on the side of James’s face, spattering his robes with blood

wow, look at that. the hate they felt for each other was mutual! snape also jinxed james! but oh wait - james was the one who matured! snape was the one who bullied his son twenty years later because he looked like james!

3. snape didnt abuse the kids at hogwarts

here’s a real argument i saw when looking through some pro-snape posts: ‘snape wasn’t an abuser, because abusers don’t let their victims retaliate, but snape did let the kids talk back to him’

what. the. fuck?!

this is the dictionary.com definition of abuse: ‘to treat in a harmful, injurious, or offensive way’ or ‘to speak insultingly, harshly, and unjustly to or about’. i’m pretty sure snape did both of these things-

“I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!”

“So,” said Snape, gripping Harry’s arm so tightly Harry’s hand was starting to feel numb.

Snape threw Harry from him with all his might.

[hermione’s teeth] "I see no difference."

‘Idiot boy!’ snarled Snape [at neville]

-on multiple occasions. i’d also like to remind you guys that neville’s worst fear is SNAPE?! his TEACHER, a figure that is supposed to be there for emotional and educational support is his worst fear in this entire world?! above the woman who drove his parents to insanity? over failure, over his abusive grandmother, over everything? his teacher? and for the pro-snaper that used this quote-

Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically.

-to claim that it was a joke, it isn’t a joke. because when snape came out of that cupboard, he was terrified. yes, it’s an embarrassing thing to have as your boggart, but the point is is that it is. he is terrified of that man.

4. james only joined the order because his wife was a muggleborn and he ‘had to’

this is just factually incorrect. james had been sticking up for muggleborn rights since he was in school, far before he started dating or even became friends with lily:

“Apologize to Evans!” James roared at Snape, his wand pointed threateningly at him.

“I’d NEVER call you a - you-know-what!”

so this is literally not true!! plus, at least he did join the order, whatever his reasons where (which were canonically good). snape didnt join the order. snape was friends with someone who suffered discrimination in society, and instead of using his privilege to help her and support her, he joined a group that was set on murdering people like her. when james had a friend who underwent oppression (remus/lycanthropy) you know what he did? he illegally became an animagus.

5. snape had to be a death eater to survive at hogwarts as he roomed with blood supremacists

this is the shittiest excuse i have ever seen in my entire life. as a poc, this comment really reminds me of the argument ‘i was raised in a racist white household! i cant control my beliefs!’

you can always control your beliefs. i understand not going on big rants about blood inequality in front of a bunch of supremacists, and i understand wanting to blend and fit in (especially because he was unpopular and needed the support the slytherin boys provided), but i will never understand then becoming an active member of the group yourself. he got the dark mark. he helped voldemort. he was a death eater, and a proud one at that! no-one forced him to join. this argument literally makes my blood boil.

6. snape had a lot of trauma from being raised in an abusive household

okay? so did sirius. so did neville. luna was bullied at school, just like snape. harry lived in an abusive household. did any of those people bully children? did any of those people join a blood supremacist group? and dont get me wrong, im not calling any of these people perfect - they all had a lot of flaws - but none of them hurt another people to the extreme that snape did.

7. snape saved the trio’s lives many times

this is the absolute bare minimum. ‘oh wow, he didnt let harry die!! what a king! he should be respected and praised! we should excuse all of his other actions because he didnt let people die <3′

8. snape is not a perfect person, he also did good that many people overlook

you’re right, snape did do some good things in his life. but unfortunately, for me and many others, doing a couple of good things doesnt excuse all of the shitty, abusive things he did too. we’re not ignoring them - we just dont think they’re good enough reasons to forgive him.

‘but james and sirius hurt others! you ignore all the bad things they did in favour of the good!’ you do the same thing with snape, first of all. second, they did a lot of good stuff. james’ and sirius’ only crimes were being annoying. for being a bit of a dick, conceited, knew they were hot and were a bit entitled. while these things are annoying as fuck, they were also stupid teens that eventually grew out of their behaviour and became better people. not perfect! better. while snape just stayed bitter at the marauders, long after their deaths, and even took his anger out on an innocent child.

9. people only hate snape because he was poc and queer coded

as a poc and queer person, please stop. this is a very bad excuse. being poc and queer (which im pretty sure he isnt, but anyway) doesnt excuse you from your actions. plus, a huge amount of harry potter readers are poc and lgbtq. why would they hate snape for those reasons?!

so thats all i got for today. im not gonna go into a deep snily/jily thing because i literally cannot be bothered. anyway im done. i need to go revise, i’ve already spent long enough on this.

#i wanted to put this in the pro snape tag #but i will be slandered so much if i do #hate on me if you want i dont care #harry potter #the marauders #james potter #pro james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #anti severus snape #long rant #lily evans #jily #flowerpott #anti snily #wolfstar

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undertale-data · 3 years

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[Image Description: An Undertale chat box that has “WHY FANS LOVE UNDERTALE” at its center. Next to it are a line chart and an Egg from the Dating Hub on its left, and a CRIME measurer (also from the Dating Hub) on its right. End I.D.]

[Image Description: a pie chart titled, “LEVEL OF LOVE FOR UNDERTALE.” The textbox on the top right reads, “On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being the least and 10 being the highest, how much do fans enjoy Undertale?” From the top going clockwise, 12 or 0% chose 5 and below; 23 or 1% chose 6; 98, or 4%, chose 7; 325, or 12%, chose 8; 529, or 20%, chose 9; and 1664, or 63%, chose 10. End I.D.]

It’s clear from all of the data analyzed so far that fans who took the time to answer our survey love Undertale. It is unlikely that they would have taken the time to answer so many questions if they had not, and even less likely that they would have come across our survey in the first place. Naturally, it comes as no surprise that 63% of our responders gave their love for Undertale a score of ten out of ten. 95% gave their love for Undertale a score of eight or higher, and only 12 responders responded with five or below, a number so small that their responses had to be lumped together to be visible on the pie chart. Of those, only 3 responders gave their love for Undertale a score of 1, and based on those responders’ other answers, it is likely that they were only intending to troll. We are very fortunate that the vast majority of responders took the survey seriously, enough so that responses like this are barely a blip in the data.

Now, for our final analysis post of the event, we will delve into the reasons that fans love Undertale so dearly.

(Essay and highlights under the cut.)

There have been countless essays on the impact that Undertale has had on people’s lives. I can hardly add more on the subject than what has already been said, but I hope this summary can provide a brief overview of what stood out among the over two thousand answers given in response to this survey. That said, due to the sheer volume of answers, I could not read every single one in depth—however, I did skim all of them, and some that stood out or were representative of several responses have been highlighted below. If you would like to see what every fan who consented to share their response had to say, you may view the full list of responses here. Note that these responses have not been edited in any way. This document may take a long time to load, as it is over 100 pages long.

(Warnings for mentions of suicidal thoughts in the following essay.)

Several responders loved the theme of choices mattering in Undertale. Whether people played the pacifist, merciless, or neutral routes, they enjoyed how the game reacted to their actions. For some, it even made them consider their own morality. One touching response explained the impact that the theme of mercy made on them. “I realized that Mercy isn't something that's given to those who deserve it. Flowey didn't deserve it. I don't deserve it myself. Shoot, we ALL need Mercy in our lives.” Many fans left similar comments about how the themes of Undertale made them better people.

Undertale changed how its fans treat others, and it also changed how fans treat themselves. The theme of staying determined and the messages of hope in the game were a light to a very large portion of fans. I cannot list all of the fans who said that Undertale helped them out of a dark place, or that they would not be alive if not for Undertale. “DETERMINATION became a metaphor for not killing myself at a really rough time in my life and I’ll always cherish that. Undertale isn’t afraid to go to really dark places but at the same time holds on so tight to its hope.”

Undertale brought fans together in unexpected ways. Some said they met friends or significant others through the fandom. “I wouldn't have met my now husband without Undertale,” one fan said. A different fan who is non-native English speaking mentioned that the game and the fan community helped them to learn English.

It would be impossible to discuss Undertale without mentioning the fan community. Whether for good or bad, many responders mentioned the fandom in their responses. Overall the feelings towards the fandom seem positive, though many made references to “toxic” parts of the fandom without specifying which parts they consider toxic. Others rejected the idea of toxicity in fandom. One response said: “[SLAMS FIST ON DESK] I KNOW MOST PEOPLE SAY THE FANDOM IS TOXIC AND CRINGE OR WHATEVER BUT OH MY GOD. The Undertale fandom, both the UTMV and the actual UT fandom, has been so much fun to be a part of. I've met countless friends because of our shared interest in something related to the game! The art people create can be breathtaking and so inspirational, and the fanfics are so so good!! I've seen people write incredible things for this fandom and it's what made me continue writing!”

One thing that makes the Undertale fandom unique is the way it embraces various AUs. Some fans are tired of AU content, but the majority of responses show a love for the creativity behind AUs. “Roll your eyes at the 50th AU Sans all you want, it's encouraging people to step outside the boundaries of fanart and pushing people to make their own ideas! I mean, hell, it was how I gained the confidence to start making my own original content.” The lack of a judgemental atmosphere seems present in the AU community, according to the responses we saw. There is an interesting balance between AU and canon (sometimes referred to as “classic”) content that another responder pointed out: “The fandom helped keep the game alive all these years, with all of its AUs. Although personally, I always enjoyed AUs that kept characters as close to the classic material as possible (dancetale, outertale) I do appreciate the creativity of the fandom. They almost created entirely new stories with new characters of their own! If it weren't for those people, the Undertale fandom would have probably not been as active as it is now. I do feel like we're getting a resurgence of classic content now too! (In 2021)”

Regardless of the many AUs the fandom has created over the years, the original game of Undertale still feels like home for many fans. They wished they could reclaim the feeling of playing the game again for the first time, but even though we can’t reset time in real life, there is still a special feeling for fans each time they play Undertale. One fan said, “Even the best fics I've read can't capture that feeling of nostalgia/almost-"coming home" that comes with hearing the music and talking to the characters.” This feeling is one that can be cherished time and time again. In the words of another responder: “It always feels welcoming like home or like comfort food that I never grow tired of no matter how many times I go to it.” Others pointed out the strength of the found family trope in Undertale, which likely contributes to this feeling of “home” as well.

As mentioned briefly earlier, the music is part of what makes Undertale feel like home for fans. Even when responses focused on other aspects of the game, many would throw in a comment about the soundtrack at the end. One comment focused on the music said “IT'S SO GOOD like I will literally go through the entire thing over and over and not be bored with it. It makes my monkey brain so happy you have no idea.” Like with the game itself, the music has incredible replay value, an amazing feat considering most of the tracks use the same few motifs. “I think what I like the most about Undertale is how the music attaches you to the story,” another responder said. “They're simple melodies that stick with you throughout the whole game, and they can remind you of both good and bad times.”

If the music sticks with fans in their hearts, then the game’s lore sticks with fans in their minds. Even six years after the release of Undertale, fans are still creating new theories and digging up new secrets. The way the game breaks the fourth wall in particular intrigued many fans and has stuck out through all these years. The awareness that the game shows for the RPG genre makes it memorable. The game plays with the player’s expectations and turns them on their heads, all while reminding the player that they’re in a game. There are few other games that do this on such a large scale, so it’s no surprise that fans cite this as one of their favorite things about Undertale.

Lastly, the LGBT+ representation in Undertale has been a huge draw for fans. Especially in 2015, the sheer volume of non-cishet characters was unprecedented, as one fan pointed out: “It's practically unheard of to see so MANY from just one source, especially during its heyday in 2015-16. Hell, you can't even GET the true pacifist ending without helping two gay couples hook up. It's really nice to see all of them being accepted for who they are and not judged for their sexuality or gender, at least in-canon.” The LGBT+ cast including Frisk, Chara, Napstablook, Monster Kid, Mettaton, Alphys, and Undyne each connected with fans in unique ways. It’s clear how important this is from responses such as: “There are canon nonbinary characters 🥺. i have never seen representation of myself before.” “It made me gay and trans so thanks for that.”

Once again I am overwhelmed with just how much there is to say about Undertale. One responder really understood when they compared Undertale to an iceberg, explaining that there are so many layers to the game that there is something for everyone: “everyone can find something to enjoy in the lore/game regardless of what kind of fan they are! Being able to appeal to various types of fans—from simple happy shipper people to deep dive lorediggers—is the mark of the coolest games!” I would have to agree with them.

It’s been six years, and despite everything, it’s still you. Thank you for reading, participating in this survey, and above all, staying determined.

Highlights:

DETERMINATION became a metaphor for not killing myself at a really rough time in my life and I’ll always cherish that. Undertale isn’t afraid to go to really dark places but at the same time holds on so tight to its hope.

I think the coolest thing was having the opportunity to watch the AU community grow from its bare roots. It's nearly insane how big and complex it's gotten, unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Roll your eyes at the 50th AU Sans all you want, it's encouraging people to step outside the boundaries of fanart and pushing people to make their own ideas! I mean, hell, it was how I gained the confidence to start making my own original content.

i love how the lgbt rep is so naturalized... there are just gay people! and its nobodys business!

The music is my go to answer, but what I really really REALLY love is how the minor characters have so much personality to them when you talk to them. They aren't incredibly important to the overall story, but they're all so likeable and diverse that you just can't help but like them immediately!

I think it was the first videogame I have played that broke the fourth wall that much. Of course there has been other videogames that broke it but just for one or two tongue-in-cheek jokes. The guilt of killing mama goat was also something intense as well that I appreciated as an experience and that I didn't think a videogame could cause on someone.

I love how no character can be seen as completely bad! Everyone builds up Asgore as some horrible villain, but he turns out to be a 'fuzzy pushover' who's broken and just wants his family back by the time you meet him. Then you think Flowey's an irredeemable killer who engineered the suffering of the monsters across many timelines, and he is... but he also used to be the kind and beloved Prince Asriel Dreemurr, traumatized by his death and subsequent rebirth, projecting his best friend onto you.

The fact that choices matter in the game. Your first playthrough and getting the golden ending for the first time. I can never replicate those feelings again, wish I could erase my memories and replay the game from the start.

I wouldn't have met my now husband without Undertale.

(Toxic parts of the fandom aside) The community is possibly one of the kindest I've ever met. Cringe culture is completely dead, and I feel like I can be myself. I felt a very close connection to many of the characters, and I loved consuming content about them when I was in a rough patch in my life.

just everything, the whole game has just impacted my life so much. i know it sounds really lame, but when the game first came out, i would purposely put my hands in my pockets and sway slightly, like sans' idle animation. of course i dont do that anymore haha, but undertale still really impacts me to this day, and i wouldnt have it any other way :)

it made me gay and trans so thanks for that

I realized that Mercy isn't something that's given to those who deserve it. Flowey didn't deserve it. I don't deserve it myself. Shoot, we ALL need Mercy in our lives.

The thing I love most about Undertale is no matter how many times I play or watch a playthrough it always makes me genuinely happy. It always feels welcoming like home or like comfort food that I never grow tired of no matter how many times I go to it. Toriel still makes me feel all warm and cozy in her home, the Skelebros always make me laugh, and I still cry on the inside watching Frisk comforting Asriel. And on the flip side the No Mercy run still invokes the negative emotions in me as well. In short Undertale just feels like a second home to me and I always wish I could stay.

The reader inserts are my favorite way to decompress after a hard day

I think Undertale helped me discover my love for 8-bit games, and made me realize how IMPORTANT music is in video games.

the worldbuilding and character design are my favorite parts of the main game apart from the music! I’m also a huge fan of the random AU music- not for like underswap or underfell i like the stuff where someone makes a megalovania for a random au where gru from despicable me replaces sans as the character. i think its funny

Just... the vibe, honestly? Even the best fics I've read can't capture that feeling of nostalgia/almost-"coming home" that comes with hearing the music and talking to the characters.

there are canon nonbinary characters 🥺. i have never seen representation of myself before.

[SLAMS FIST ON DESK] I KNOW MOST PEOPLE SAY THE FANDOM IS TOXIC AND CRINGE OR WHATEVER BUT OH MY GOD. The Undertale fandom, both the UTMV and the actual UT fandom, has been so much fun to be a part of. I've met countless friends because of our shared interest in something related to the game! The art people create can be breathtaking and so inspirational, and the fanfics are so so good!! I've seen people write incredible things for this fandom and it's what made me continue writing!

There's a scene where Frisk (the player) is going towards what is presumably going to be their death. They will fight Asgore and he will use their human soul to break the barrier and free his people. The music, despite the player's impending doom, is... triumphant. You are not the triumphant one here, and yet, the score invites you to experience the monsters' joy and happiness as they tell you the tale of their subjugation. The monsters are going to be free. This is their victory, but they don't hate you or want you to die. They're just... happy. That scene has always struck me very deeply. I feel it represents the best parts of Undertale.

I loved how well thought out the Geno route was. It really made me feel like I was doing something horrible, and the characters were very obviously reacting to dire circumstances.

I dunno? I like Undertale for it's characters, story, music, secrets and many more. I am not good with Headcanons but I also like the neutral endings and how different they can depending on who you spare and kill

I was very bad at english before, i thought i couldn't progress because i was very shy and not confident. But my sibling and i wanted to have the best experience with this game so we wanted to play it in english. It's this game and the fandom which helped me to make huge progress in english !

THE SOUNDTRACK. IT'S SO GOOD like I will literally go through the entire thing over and over and not be bored with it. It makes my monkey brain so happy you have no idea.

to avoid writing an essay i will say one word. Mettaton

It is like Toby specifically made the games to fit the iceberg meme and it's awesome, everyone can find something to enjoy in the lore/game regardless of what kind of fan they are! Being able to appeal to various types of fans - from simple happy shipper people to deep dive lorediggers is the mark of the coolest games!

I love almost everything about Undertale as a game on its own. The music, the art and especially the characters and how they interact. They made me feel at home. Undertale means a huge amount to me. (I even got a tattoo of the castle when you and MK walk together!) The fandom helped keep the game alive all these years, with all of its AUs. Although personally, I always enjoyed AUs that kept characters as close to the classic material as possible (dancetale, outertale) I do appreciate the creativity of the fandom. They almost created entirely new stories with new characters of their own! If it weren't for those people, the Undertake fandom would have probably not been as active as it is now. I do feel like we're getting a resurgence of classic content now too! (In 2021)

the mystery. toby fox refused to give answers to anything and i think thats very sexy of him.

I just feel guilty for liking it so much when I'm in my 30's. But I recently got diagnosed with ASD, so I guess it explains things a bit. Many ppl consider Papyrus to be neurodivergent, and some adult fans are too, so seeing that makes me feel a bit better.

i think about "Despite everything, it's still you" everyday of my life.

I like how it's just as funny as it can be serious. All routes are this way. I laughed as much as I cried when I played the Pacifist route and then once I opened the game again and Flowey was telling me to let them be happy, I immediately turned off the game. I somehow felt bad.

The Found Family Trope

The True Pacifist Ending is just...man. And the fanworks about saving everyone even when the game doesn't let you? MANNNNNN

I think what I like the most about Undertale is how the music attaches you to the story. They're simple melodies that stick with you throughout the whole game, and they can remind you of both good and bad times.

there's honestly a LOT to love about this game, but i think one of my favorite things about it is just how many lgbt+ characters there are??? i can think of alphys, undyne, frisk, chara, mettaton, napstablook, monster kid, asgore, mad mew mew, the dress lion, the royal guards, and arguably even papyrus off of the top of my head, but im sure i'm forgetting a few from just undertale alone (there's even MORE in deltarune)!! it's practically unheard of to see so MANY from just one source, especially during its heyday in 2015-16. hell, you can't even GET the true pacifist ending without helping two gay couples hook up. it's really nice to see all of them being accepted for who they are and not judged for their sexuality or gender, at least in-canon.

[Image description: A wordcloud in the shape of the capitalized word UNDERTALE. The text is white on a black background, and uses the font found in the game. Some of the most visible words are: Game, Love, Music, Life, AU, Store, Friend, and Feel, which represent the most common words in the essays people wrote about their love for the game. End of ID]

#undertale #analysis #results #undertale fandom census

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imonthinice · 3 years

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The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 20/?

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: Y/N - your name

***IMPORTANT*** The Criminal Psychology majors will be taking a temporary hiatus as I’m getting my second dose of the vaccine today<3 I don’t know when I’ll be coming back because I don’t want to burn myself out on this series just to give content while I’m gone, yknow

Warnings: Swearing, Forgetfulness, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

They danced and sung the night away at the Gala. It ended at around 2:00am and everyone went back to the Wayne Manor.

Somehow it came out that they should play Uno of all things. Uno is known for being the “Friendship Ruiner” or the “Relationship Ruiner” of the world. So, of course, they played it. Why wouldn't they?

Y/N dealt the cards. She was not quick about it. At all. She really struggled to deal the cards to the entire group, but she still tried. It was the thought that counted. Or at least she thought it did.

But no one seemed to mind she was a little slower with her cards-dealing. Which was different to the up-beat, face-paced life all of them lead. One would have expected that they would want a crazy fast dealer, but no one cared.

They played well into the night, with Jason ending up tapping-out and laying in Y/N’s lap. She played with his hair and leaned down to show him the good cards she got, at least until he fell asleep. She spent the time bonding with his family.

They had always liked her. From the first time they all met her, they knew she was going to be something real. They were even impressed that Jason and her hadn’t fought yet. They were both hot-headed when they wanted to be, so when it was obvious that they put the relationship ahead of their own prides, it was something else.

They knew of the first time they had one of these moments. Y/N was at a dance competition, but Jason had to dip because of “Family Issues”, she was upset. Of course, she wanted him there and it looked like they were going to get into a huge spat about it. But, when she won that competition, she got up there and she said,

“This one is for my family, my friends, the extension of my family,” she paused, “And my boyfriend, Jason.” She smiled, “He isn’t here right now because of family issues, but he told me to follow my dreams, and here I am,” she said while raising her medal slightly, “This one was for you, baby.”

And that’s when his family knew that pride was stupid to them. Relationships are growing, changing together. And while they both stayed hot-headed, they changed that slight detail in themselves to be better partners. It was admirable.

Y/N ended up winning the last game. Half of the Waynes were sleeping, either at the coffee table where they were playing or in their rooms. She glanced over to the clock, 6:00am. She knew her parents were getting up soon, so she texted her mom,

Hey mum! So do you still want Jay and I to come over for the barbeque?

And she nudged him a little. Everyone else had left the room, so she was trying to wake him up. So they could go to his room. He groaned.

“Baby, do you want to sleep in your bed?” she whisper-asked him, leaning down to his ear and stroking his hair. He groaned and got up, started walking to his room. She followed suit. He was on his bed and passed out before she even got up there.

She laughed and walked over to him, fumbling with his suit jacket. He mumbled something about taking him on a date first, and she laughed again.

“C’mon, work with me here, you’re going to be uncomfortable if you sleep in your suit, my love.”

He groaned and took off his jacket before unbuttoning his shirt, while she got his belt undone.

“God, take me on a date first,” he mumbled.

“Shh,” she said, placing a finger over his lips, “Just go to bed, Jay.”

He sloppily kissed her neck before she cupped his face and used her position to straddle him to the bed. She kissed his forehead before getting off of him and going through his clothes. She needed something, a shirt, pants, anything she could wear.

She fumbled with getting her own dress and gloves off, ending up throwing the dress over his desk chair, hoping it would minimize wrinkling. She undid her corset and threw it on his desk. Her heels were sitting at his desk chair. The gloves on his desk.

She crawled into bed with him, being the big spoon, burying her face behind his neck. She pulled out her phone to look at her texts. One from Artemis,

Hey, dude. That dress, oh my God?

She laughed into Jason’s shoulder and sent back, I know. I know. I know. I killed it. You can’t say I didn’t.

You’re literally so right because again, oh my God. You did NOT need to wipe the floor with the rest of the guests. I mean, Selina was there and you were on her level.

That’s impressive. Selina is stunning. But I’d argue I was just below every Wayne lady.

Well, eventually you’ll be a Wayne lady.

C’mon. It’s been 6 months.

You say that like the thought hasn’t crossed your mind at least once.

Yeah, but I don’t talk to anyone about it.

You should start talking about it. Most people think about their weddings.

Okay, anyway. Why are you up so early?

I was studying most of the night with Wally.

Ah, “Studying”. Nice.

I wish! No, we were actually studying. Not like you and Jay at your little Gala. Actually had to study.

I have to study too, but exams are like next week.

Wish I could relate. Mine are today.

And you didn’t sleep? Dude.

Shh, you’re not my mom.

She laughed and fell asleep cuddling Jason. Her phone was opened, so it died.

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

Jason woke up first. Looking at the time, it was 12:00pm. Y/N was sleeping behind him, still loosely holding him. He smiled. He hoped that the night before had fixed some of the issues between them. Well, he hoped there was no issues.

He didn’t want work to be more stressful than it already was. But, they were having issues. He thought it was because of finals, but he feared there was more to it. Maybe it was the fact that he’s famous. Maybe it was the fact that she couldn’t handle the fame. He hoped it wasn’t anything to do with the fame.

But the comment about the people with daggers at her throat obviously wasn't about anyone else. It was the press. He knew she had issues with the press. He always would. She always would. He wouldn’t blame her if she walked away from him because of the press. Break up or a break, she was allowed to give up because of the press. He hoped she didn’t. He hoped she never would. He didn’t want to jinx them, but he really, really, hoped that this wouldn’t end in flames.

He looked at her. He remembered the first moment he knew he loved her. They were having dinner at this hole-in-the-wall restaurant that he had seen on patrol one night. She was scarfing down the food, and he wiped away the mess on her face with his thumb. He knew then. He knew in that moment that that was it. She was it.

He was whipped and he knew it. But every time his siblings or dad brought it up, he mentioned current or past relationships they had. The only people who weren’t whipped in the Wayne household were the women.

Or maybe the all were, they were just good at hiding it. He turned around and cuddled her back He stroked her hair. He ran his fingers through her hair.

She did it to him a lot. Physical affection was something that he was used to at this point. He still didn’t know how to feel about it, but he had ended up letting Dick hug him more often. He didn’t say it was because of her, because she didn’t outright run up to him expecting hugs, she was okay with hand holding and small touches of affection. It wasn’t because of her that he started letting people in.

But he did think she was a turning point for him. For his affection. His love style. She gave a damn about him and made it clear. It wasn’t like love he was used to, but it also opened his mind to people trying to love him.

She shifted around a bit. She ended up turning her back to Jason so he became the big spoon, and he buried his face in her hair. She groaned and tugged at the blanket on his bed, pulling it onto the two of them. He helped her get it on them. She groaned again.

“You up?” he whispered.

“No... I’m in deep sleep,” she said with a slur to her speech.

“My mistake, really.”

“It is.”

He pulled her closer, “Can you wake up?”

“No.”

“That’s sad. I wanted to talk.”

“You can talk.”

“Okay so,” he said, “I realised something. Some people would say you’re changing me, that I’m becoming someone else because of you,” he paused, “I’d have to disagree. You’re not doing anything.”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re just inspiring me to do better. You influence me. You don’t intentionally go in and change me, I change because I love you.”

“That’s nice honey.”

“You could pretend you’re interested in what I have to say, my love.”

“I’m tired, Jay.”

“I danced you to Hell, I guess.”

She groaned, “I guess I can’t go back to bed, now,” she flexed her wrist, “You’ve interrupted my sleep.”

He cuddled in closer to her, “I am not sorry.”

“Of course you’re not, why would you be?” she said while she turned to face him, “You just want to see me.”

“Damn, you got me.”

She yawned, “We need to study eventually.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“I just did.”

“School’s annoying. It’s on every last never but also none of them. It’s stressful but I also met you from it. It’s something I excel at but also causes me pain.”

“I know, babe. I know,” she said as she searched for her phone, finding it, dead and under her leg. “Fuck, killed my phone.”

“Where did you even have that all night?”

“Dress has pockets. But I didn’t bring my charger,” she sighed. “I had texted my mum too.”

“Texted your mom about what?”

“She wants us to go to a family barbeque after exams.”

“That’s so suburban of your family.”

“Yet they live in a massive city. I guess you'll see my family? you like them, don't you?” she asked.

He had met her family in January of that year. He got along with her mom and dad, in spite of the language barrier between him and her dad. There was difficulty understanding each other, but they got along in their love for rock music. It warmed Y/N’s heart.

Her mom liked him just because he made her happy. They didn’t really need to get along, but they did. They both cooked, and her mom had dragged him into helping her when Y/N was watching figure skating with her dad. Apparently they hit it off.

“I have literally no idea,” he said.

“How do you not know?”

“Your sister has something off about her.”

“You know, that’s fair. I don’t blame you for that one.”

“Yeah, have you noticed she’s very... obsessed with vigilantes?”

“And you thought I was obsessed,” she joked, “Yeah, she takes it a little too far. The whole, “I want to marry a vigilante to infiltrate and kill them” thing was obviously a joke, but I feel like there was some truth to it. That scares me.”

“Thank God I’m not the only one.”

“If you don’t like her, don’t worry about it. i don’t care if you like her. We’ve had a difficult relationship all or lives. If you can be civil, it’s a win.”

“Did you have an ex openly hate your sister?”

“Yep. And he’s an ex for a reason.”

“That’s fair. I would hate it if someone openly hated one of my siblings.”

“Unless it’s Dami.”

“Unless it’s Dami, that’s very true.”

“Still don’t know what you have against that kid, he’s very sweet.”

“That’s what he wants you to think.”

“Well, then its working.”

“What a master manipulator,” he laughed. “It’s the principle of the matter, Y/N.”

“It’s the principle of the matter, Y/N,” she mocked.

“Okay listen,” he laughed, “It is. He’s a menace.”

“But you love him.”

“It’s unfortunate. He's my brother, but he is also whatever. I don’t know. He’s amazing, he’s a genius, but who knows. Maybe one day we won’t fight all the time.”

“Imaging hoping you don’t fight with your sibling.”

“Family issues, amirite?”

She groaned and got over him, “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Fuck, I don’t know. Just need to get up, to be fair.”

“Coffee?”

“Eh, probably not.”

“That’s new.”

“You betcha. I don’t feel the affects of caffeine withdrawal yet.” She looked at her dress, it was wrinkled. Which was whatever. She knew it was going to happen. She went searching for all her stuff and put it on his desk. It was spread all out over his room, she didn’t know how it happened.

“How did your shit end up everywhere?” he asked.

“Probably the same way that all your shit ended up everywhere? I have no idea.”

“What, did we fuck?”

“No!” she laughed, “Do you not remember?”

“Days are blurring together, so.”

“Well that’s not... normal?”

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nostalgiaruinedme · 3 years

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Hey I love your fics and writing style and well since I've been meaning to start writing fics I wanted to ask you if you have some advice you'd give.

Ohhh advice? Sure, I can do that! I shall bestow all of my knowledge upon you now, but you gotta look below the cut. Shhhh, it's a secret~

Okay really I just knew this was going to be a really long post and didn't want to clog up everyone's dash lol. ONTO WRITING ADVICE

I kind of live by these rules in writing:

1. Know the rules before you break them 2. ANYTHING can be inspiration 3. Remember the doll 4. Use your resources 5. Don’t hold yourself back 6. Practice 7. Enjoy yourself!!

1. Know the rules before you break them

Pay attention in English class (or whichever class for the language you're writing in) and learn the grammar!! I don't always have perfect grammar in my fics and sometimes I consciously choose to ignore grammar rules to make it more impactful, but you HAVE to know the rules before you break them. Study those grammar lessons! Learn how to use the fun punctuation, like semi colons and em dashes and en dashes and all that good stuff. I know they're scary, but they're a lot of fun too.

ALSO PLEASE USE PARAGRAPH BREAKS IM BEGGING that's like, a HUGE problem I see with a lot of new writers. Paragraph breaks are not optional!! Change 'em when the main topic of the paragraph switches or when a new character is speaking. Overdoing it with paragraph breaks is better than underdoing it, I promise.

2. ANYTHING can be inspiration

Have you ever played Story Cubes?

If you haven’t, it’s essentially this game where you roll the cubes, they each land on a different image, and you gotta tell a story that uses all of those pictures. Some are literally just a question mark or a speech bubble and that’s what you have to use. Me and my siblings used to play the game a lot. And you know what? Some of those stories are the most creative ones we’ve ever come up with. When I say anything can be inspiration for a story or a character, I mean ANYTHING!

I based my Donnie design off of the vintage globes and journals I have in my bedroom.

My little sister threw a pillow at me and it inspired a funny scene I wanted to write in another fic

I designed two OCs off of Mars and Pluto and an ENTIRE 40,000 word fanfiction based off of a space documentary I watched

My NaNoWriMo story last year was based off of the concept of shadows and how cool I thought it’d be if they could talk

Me and my friend made an entire dystopian original story commenting on our world today. It was first inspired by a crack self insert Death Note RP we had at 13 years old. Not kidding.

Literally anything can be inspiration. Challenge your mind!! The best ideas come out of completely ordinary and unexpected opportunities, in my experience. You don’t need one of those super detailed and crazy expensive prompt books (though they are fun) to write a great story. Use music, use a color, use the sky, use your favorite food, use anything! Just find inspiration!

3. Remember the Doll

Remember Mulan?

We never got to see the Huns destroy the village and we didn’t get to see them kill anyone there either. But by showing that doll there, the animators took an entire battle full of death and destruction and summed it all up in one, heartbreaking moment. You don’t need to spend ten pages writing about how horrifying the bad guy was and listing everything he did from start to finish, nor do you need to write an analysis on why she’s bad. All you need to do is show one or two very meaningful ways they impacted the world... and you can do that with something as simple as a doll lying on the ground in a burning village.

Because the doll is there; the little girl is not.

There’s a quote that sums this up really well, and I have it written on the dry erase board by my desk.

“You don't write about the horrors of war. No. You write about a kid's burnt socks lying in the road.” - Richard Price

And adding onto that, try to write more about what’s there, not what isn’t. Mulan didn’t say ANYTHING about the girl in that scene, but by showing what was there, it told us a story about what wasn’t. Focus on what is in the scene and it will tell your reader about what isn’t.

I do think writing a balance is good though, so I try and keep it around a 3/1 ratio of what is there vs what isn’t. Remember this is art though, not math; you can change the formula as you please just to make it feel right. It all depends on the scene and what you want.

4. Use Your Resources

You know how, in the artist community, there’s this sort of stigma around using references? And some artists have to make posts reminding others that there’s nothing wrong with using references and you even should use them?

It’s the same concept in writing!

There is NOTHING wrong with looking to other writers’ work or keep a thesaurus constantly open or bookmarking a reference page of other words to use than “said”. Nothing wrong with it at all! When I write, I always have two tabs open: my writing document and thesaurus.com. I have a folder on my computer bookmarks of ways to describe a smile and a body language dictionary. Before I write fanfic, I watch a “best moments of *character*” compilation video on Youtube to remind myself of how they speak. I watch fight scenes from The 100 or Avatar or Marvel while I write my own battles!

There are SO MANY resources out there for you to reference. Use them! And if you need some to start with, shoot me an ask. I have a ton.

5. Don’t Hold Yourself Back

One of the scariest parts of writing is the thought of “what will people think?” Creative writing is EXTREMELY personal, and you’re going to find a lot of you inside your work, including the thoughts you didn’t want anyone to know about.

People will discover how often you think about love. People will discover how dark your mind can get. People will discover the morals you hold that even you didn’t know about. They’ll discover that the person you swore you’ve moved on from is still on your mind. They’ll discover that the pain you swore you got over still hurts you.

“you can tell the deepest truths with the lies of fiction” - Isabel Allende

This thought scared me a lot, and still does. I’ve let go of and forgotten about so many story ideas because they were just a little too personal. I could write it and not publish it, but what if someone still sees? Writing, like all art, comes right from the heart and reveals a lot about a person. That paranoia of being known kept me from writing so much.

But I promise you, your most powerful stories are going to be the most personal ones.

I wrote Hated Resemblance based on my thoughts about myself, and I wrote Dagger From the Mirror based on thoughts about myself too. A lot of it is dark, most is painful, and all of it is scary to show the world. But I wrote it anyways and it’s created something pretty amazing.

Hell, even now I’m wondering if I should post that lil anecdote, but I think it’s the best way to make this part of my point stronger. See? Writing about things that affect you is the best way to make them impactful, even for something as simple as advice.

And even if you want to write about light and happy stories- you’re still going to have to get personal.

This all got pretty deep but my point is this: Don’t hold yourself back. Write what you feel you need to and it don’t worry about what anyone will think. Don’t hide that one sentence because you’re scared who will read it because you’re scared to be known so deeply. Add it in even when it’s scary.

That’s something I’m still learning how to do, and it’s a slow process that has taken years... but it’s worth it, I promise.

“Write what disturbs you, what you fear, what you have not been willing to speak about. Be willing to be split open.” - Natalie Goldberg

6. Practice

I started writing in 1st grade. I’ve written regularly since then, and this is my word count every month this year:

Most of that is fanfiction. Some are just random thoughts, some are really thought out posts or answers to your questions, and some are made up of original stories. That total words written number is since November.

You don’t have to write this much every month, I promise, I just don’t really have any other hobbies lol. My point is that practice is really really really important. Write a paragraph or even just a sentence every day. You’re gonna improve so quickly, I promise.

“Write every day. Writing is a muscle that gets stronger with use.” - Abbi Glines

But take breaks too!!! Don’t overwork yourself. Burn out is a real thing and you shouldn’t force yourself to write just because you’re scared you don’t write enough! Write at a pace that’s comfortable for you. There will always be writers out there who write more than you and even more writers who write less than you. That’s okay. Everyone has a pace they’re comfortable with, and you just gotta find yours. As long as you’re writing consistently, the numbers don’t matter too much. 50 words a day or 5000 are both good!

7. Enjoy Yourself!!

You’re here to have fun!

No matter what you’re writing (angst, romance, fix-it, AUs, hurt/comfort, fluff, ANYTHING), remember that fic writing is supposed to be fun!! You’re not getting paid to do this. On one hand, that sucks, but on the other hand it gives you the amazing opportunity to write literally whatever you want! Find projects you’re enthusiastic about, meet other writers, do collabs, make playlists for your story, create over powered OCs for the hell of it, ignore plot holes and write without regard to canon, or write the most realistic and in-depth canon-compliant book ever. Create the most self indulgent story you can think of!

Have fun. This is your story and you get to write the rules. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.

Oh yeah, and one more thing. Be proud of yourself. You can get all of the comments and feedback in the world, but if you’re not proud of what you wrote, it’s gonna be hard to look back on it with joy. Be proud no matter how many reads it gets—you made it!

“I think I did pretty well, considering I started out with nothing but a bunch of blank paper.” - Steve Martin

#can you tell I like writing quotes #I have a whole pinterest board full of them #asks #writing advice #writblr #fanfiction #meg rambles

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didsomeonesaydaddydraco · 4 years

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What true love feels like - part 1 | Tom Felton imagine

Ladies and gentlemen, this is the moment you’ve been waiting for...my very first TOM FELTON imagine. (Just kidding, I was probably the only one waiting lol).

Word count: 2129

Pairing: Tom Felton x reader

Note: This is going to be a mini series. I really hope you’ll like it. Section written in italic is a flashback.

When I was a little kid, I loved going to weddings. God knows how many times I was asked to be a flower girl or a bridesmaid. All the decoration, the music, the spirit of true love mesmerized me, and I usually find myself imagining my own wedding. I had it all planned out by the time I met Him. And when proposed to me after five years of dating, I knew my time had come. Everything looked exactly how I wanted it. The huge mansion was covered in white and blush pink decoration. The sweet scent of the innumerable amount of roses filled the whole place. Family members, friends and their dates were chatting and laughing together. The wedding registrar was already preparing by the arch made out of fairy lights. And the always rainy and chilly London woke up to one of the warmest spring mornings today. Even the weather was on my side.

- How are you feeling sweet girl? – my Mum asked me from the armchair, where she had been sitting on ever since the creator of my wedding dress came to the dressing room to help me put on my huge dress. I looked at myself in the mirror, admiring the perfectly made ball gown with the delicate waist line, hundreds of tulle layers, and sparkling sleeves. It was my dream dress.

- I’m not sure – I confessed to her – Am I supposed to be nervous?

- Nervous? – She looked at me confused – Honey, you might mistake your feeling with excitement. It’s normal for…

- I’m pretty bloody overwhelmed, Mum – I turned to her – Somehow, I feel like I’m going to make a huge mistake if I walk down that aisle.

For the last couple of months, I was too busy with planning the wedding that I totally forgot to take some time and concentrate on myself and on my feelings. I wanted everything to turn out as I imagined it when I was twenty. And everything was just like that. Except me. I woke up today with a knot in my stomach, no appetite and a very bad feeling. All I could think about was that I’m making a mistake.

- What do you mean? – Mum stood up from the chair and walked over to me so she could held my hand as a sign of support – Y/N?

I looked down at our hands, my eyes glued to the silver bracelet with the single white pearl charm hanging on it. I could still remember how his crystal blue eyes sparkled and how warm his gaze was when he gave it to me. We went to Rochefort-en-Terre for a little getaway. We wanted to be somewhere, where they didn’t know him, so we could be alone together. He saw this bracelet at a local family’s jewellery shop and he swore he just couldn’t not buy it. I had never took it off ever since then.

- I just wonder if he is really the one – I bit my bottom lip. I didn’t dare to look up to my Mum’s eyes. They paid everything for our wedding and never complained because of the expenses – I mean, we’re about to make a hopefully lifelong commitment. I just want to make sure I’m not making a mistake here. What if everything goes downhill after the wedding? What if we slowly fall out of love?

- Than you learn to love each other again – She put a finger under my chin, and forced me to look at her – Darling, you’re still young. Of course you have your doubts about a commitment like this. But here’s something to think about: the one that you truly love, will never make you wonder. There’s a difference in the way you love someone. There is the kind that you will fall in love with and this changes with circumstance and time. And then there is the love that you love with your entire being, it never fades, it’s timeless – she kissed my cheek – I’ll go and get your father. It’s almost time.

She left me there with my thoughts. He was such a great and loving person. Passionate about the things he loved. He was always there for everyone if they needed someone. He made me happy. He made me feel loved and respected. He gave me everything he could. And still, I was standing in the middle of the dressing room, questioning myself. I wanted nothing, but marrying my soulmate. I think the sign of a true soulmate isn’t someone you just want to do the super fun stuff with. A real soulmate is the person who makes any ordinary day fun. Some people make all these huge plans to do with their special someone, forget that. Find someone who you can take grocery shopping and still have a blast with. Find someone who makes you look forward to waking up on Monday. I think I had found it.

- Okay okay, listen – he laughed as he dragged me into the supermarket in the middle of the night. I had a very long day and my upcoming exams were stressing me out, but he wanted to help me relax and have a little bit of fun before I pull an all-night study session – Both of us will have exactly 5 minutes to find the best matches to the tasks. When I count to three, we both run to find the products.

- Babe – I whined and tugged on the sleeve of his sweater which I used as a PJ. We were both in our pyjamas, considering that he literally pulled me out of the bed while I was taking notes for my business law class – It’s almost midnight, and I really need to study.

- Shush – he silenced me with sass in his voice. It actually made me smile. He looked so adorable when he was acting like a kid – 5 minutes. 5 tasks.

- Alright, gimme the details – I rolled my eyes and put my hair up in a messy bun.

- First, go and find my favourite candy. Second, find something very random. Third, find something you think I should really try. Fourth, find something in my favourite colour – he led me to spot where we were about the start from.

- And what’s the fifth task? – I looked up at him.

- Find something which reminds you of our love – he kissed me quickly, but before I could kiss him back, he ran away like he was a cannon ball.

- Hey, cheater – I yelled after him, but my laugh gave me away. I loved that man.

I smiled at the memory. He always knew how to cheer me up, when I was down. But he also knew when he had to give me time and space too. I appreciated how he let me moan to him when I had a bad day, or how supportive he was about my dreams and goals. He never failed to be there for me and help me on my journey.

- Are you ready to go? – I jumped a little by the sound of my Dad. I was too deep in my memories and thoughts, I didn’t realize when he came in. He was standing by the door, my bouquet in his hand. He looked worried.

- What’s wrong? – I asked him. This morning he was fine and happy when we were having breakfast. In fact, he was excited about that he can annoy my brother and sister with the fact that their youngest sibling had gotten married first.

- Your mother told me about your unsureness – he smiled at me lightly. I sighed and sat down on the sofa carefully, not to wrinkle my dress. He sat down next to me and took my small hands in his huge ones – Y/N, if you’re constantly having to wonder where you stand with someone, maybe it’s time to stop standing and start walking.

- I don’t know what you’re talking about – I tried to fool him, but he was my father after all. He knew us better than we knew ourselves, so we could never get away with a silly little prank or if we tried to fake sick so we didn’t have to go to school.

- You think I haven’t noticed anything? – Dad laughed a little – June bug, you’ve been quite distant with him lately. He probably thinks that you were just busy with planning the wedding, but I see what I cannot see anymore. And that’s love. You’ve been looking at him like he was just a body, and not someone you want to spend the rest of your life with. And I want you to know, it’s okay – He squeezed my hand – Sometimes your heart needs more time to accept what your mind already knows.

I had to do the right thing. He might had been right about everything, but the whole situation was more complicated than that. That man really loved me. And he was probably already waiting at the altar, nervously looking around, looking at the entrance of the ball room so catch me there. I could see his smile in front of me. I could see him tearing up when my Dad places my hand in his. That man gave me his heart. I helped him pick up the pieces after his first love left him. He trusted me. I couldn’t break him. And Mum was probably right too. I can learn to love him again.

- I need to call him – I said rather to myself and not my Dad. He gave my hand a final squeezed and left me alone in the room. I was glad he didn’t ask me anything. I paced around the room, my dress flying around me while I was manically searching for my mobile. I was chewing on my lips and my heart was beating way too fast. How could I put myself in this situation? How could I do this to him? They were the longest five rings of the call before he finally picked up.

- Y/N? – His voice was surprised. He probably didn’t know why I was calling Him just right before I had to walk down the aisle to marry him – Are you okay?

No, I wasn’t. I forced myself to not to cry, because I didn’t want to ruin my makeup, but I could feel my eyes burning and my throat tightened. I was choking on my withheld sobs. I loved how his voice was smooth, a tiny bit raspy and manly, but playful at the same time. I could have listened to his voice all day long. Just listening how he told me everything about his day or what new projects he has been working on lately.

- I think we were meant to be, but we did it all wrong – I blurted out and collapsed back to the sofa. I let a single tear run down my cheek and drop on top of my pearl charm on my bracelet. I heard how his breathing fastened in the phone, like he was panicking. I was too. I didn’t know what was right or wrong. I desperately needed him by my side to feel his arms around my body, holding my close to himself. Feeling the warmth of his body calming down my shaking frame. I needed him to kiss into my hair and whisper in my ears that he has me and everything is going to fine – I just want to tell you, it takes everything in me not to call you, and I wish I could run to you, and I hope you know that every time I don’t…I almost do. And even though I’m unsure about most things in life, I am certain that I love you and will continue to love you forever.

- Y/N, what happened? – His voice was filled with worry. Knowing him he was already running his fingers through his hair, thinking about if he should come to see me right away or stay exactly where he was – Talk to me! What’s going on?

- I’m so sorry – I whispered into to phone. By this time, I couldn’t hold back my tears. And I didn’t even care anymore – I have to marry him…

- No, no you don’t have to – He was practically yelling. I only heard him yelling once, when he was completely lost in the ocean of feelings, and we were trying to figure out what was going on between us – Y/N, please…

- I love you, Tom – I said as a goodbye and ended the call. And with that, I ended something which I cherished for years. I ended a beautiful love story.

#tom felton #tom felton imagine #tom felton one shot #tom felton fanfic #imagine tom felton #harry potter #draco malfoy #draco imagine #tom felton x reader #wedding #lover tom felton #imagine stories #fanfiction #draco melfon fanfiction

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parkertech · 4 years

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Tattoos & Tears — CHAPTER 5

summary: on everybody's 18th birthday, they get a tattoo of their soulmate written on their wrist. for you, it's your best friend who you thought you got over. who even has a girlfriend of his own.

warnings: swearing, angst

———————————————————————

The next month had to be the hardest month Peter had to go through, ever since Tony’s death. Peter hated himself for how his feelings did a full 180. He didn’t feel anything with MJ anymore. No happiness, no excitement, not even any boredom. He just felt numb around her.

Of course he didn’t say anything. He knew if he did he would hurt her. He knew every ‘I love you’ from her was genuine. His truth was reminded like an annoying fly in his face that wouldn’t go away. He didn’t want to feel like this. But you can’t control your heart.

That exact heart ached for you all the time. It ached for your touch, for your kisses, for you laughs and smiles, for you in general. But he couldn’t get that. What made it worse was that he was with MJ and didn’t get the balls to tell her the truth. But what made it absolutely aggravating and unbearable was that Brad has asked you out. And you said yes.

You fucking said yes.

Of course you would say yes. Because he’s your soulmate.

Fucking soulmates.

He grew the hate to word. It was an annoying thing. Some stupid determination that isn’t even based off your opinion. It’s literally just because it said so.

Peter did what you did when you were in heartbreak. Isolate from you. He couldn’t stand the pain every time he saw you and Brad. He dug it down deep which added to his numbness.

It had now been 3 months. 3 long, nerve wracking months. Peter’s birthday was today. Well, when the clock hit 12. He wasn’t excited. Not even a little bit. Tonight was the night his supposed ‘love of his life’ would be determined. And he knew it wasn’t going to be MJ. His truth was going to come out today. He could already picture her tear stained face, red cheeks, pure hurt and pain across her face. He closed his and groaned at the thought, before hesitantly and unwillingly get ready for the day.

MJ wasn’t waiting for him at his locker today. He sighed in relief, feeling already some of the pressure in his chest die down. He put in his locker combo before grabbing his calculus textbook along with some random, dingy notebooks. He felt a random pair of arms wrap around him, and he sighed loudly. He turned around, expecting to find MJ. But it wasn’t. It was you.

“Hi Peter!” You said enthusiastically, with a bright smile. Peter blinked a few times, thinking he was dreaming. But his pounding heart reminded him to snap out of it.

“H-Hey, Y/N! What’s up?” He stuttered. He mentally beat himself up for how obvious he was being, keeping his focus on you. Your radiant smile all of a sudden made the room more happy, and it made him mimic it.

“What’s up? Well, I hear someone’s big night is tonight!” His face fell a little and he started at you sadly. You furrowed your eyebrows, looking him up and down. “You okay, buddy?” Peter shook his head a few times, before nodding.

“Yeah, I’m good...” he trailed off. You went back to your happy demeanor and touched his shoulder. He felt it ignite to life, leaving a slight tingle and warmth.

“You better be. You can’t be grumpy when you find out who your soulmate is going to be!” You said, trying to bring back the good mood. Peter looked down at his beat up sneakers and swallowed the huge lump in his throat.

But I want my soulmate to be you, he thought to himself.

“Yeah, I know.” Peter was acting weird. He wasn’t being his jittery self, making cheesy puns, nerding on about new tech and shit. He was being distant, and you could tell.

“Pete, is everything okay with you? Do you need to tell me something?” You ask silently. Peter was tempting when you said that, but decided to not. He’d just weird you out.

“No, I’m fine. Just tired...” He lied. You could see he didn’t want to be pushed, so you nodded hesitantly.

“Alright...well, we’re gonna go to your place tonight, right?” Peter’s head shot up from the floor, pure anxiety in his eyes.

“What, why? Why would be going to my place?” You give him an obvious look, but Peter doesn’t catch on.

“It’s your birthday. We’re gonna celebrate! Don’t worry, it’s not a party, because I know you hate them. It’s just me, Ned, Betty, and MJ of course.”

“Why ‘of course’? You don’t know MJ.” He said a little aggressively. It was because he didn’t want MJ, but that doesn’t mean he could take it out on you. He saw your face turn into a taken aback one, but in a defensive way. Shit.

“Okay, calm down. She’s your girlfriend, number one. Number two, I do know MJ because we’ve been friends since freshman year.” There was a pause since Peter didn’t know what to say. He let his guilt and embarrassment eat him away, which made you scoff and shake your head. “Fine, since you’re in a bad mood, I’m just gonna leave you alone.”

“No, wait, Y/N-“

“See you at your place, Peter.” You replied coldly. Peter’s entire mood went downhill all over again when he saw you walk away from him. Well, more like stomp away from him. He hit his head on his locker 3 times, muttering curses under his breath.

Why is everything going wrong? One second he was fine, happy. The next he was upset, and disappointed. He couldn’t do this anymore. He had to tell MJ. Tonight.

———

The rest of the school day had went by. May heard about his little gathering, and left him alone. That was after she gave him her gift—a Polaroid camera. Of course, May would’ve gotten him something better, but she wasn’t the richest. That didn’t mean Peter didn’t appreciate it though. He appreciated everything May got him. How could he not? It was May for crying out loud.

After an hour when May left, he heard a knock at his door, and got up from the couch with a sigh. Before he opened the door, he looked through the peephole in the middle. You weren’t lying—MJ, Ned, Betty, and you were standing there, waiting for Peter to open the door. Peter took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself, before grabbing the door handle and opening the door.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” You all shouted in unison Peter groaned and dramatically held his ears.

“You guys know it’s not my birthday yet, right?” Ned shrugs and steps inside, the rest of you following. Peter just now noticed some of you had small bags and different boxes wrapped in wrapping paper, which he assumed were his gifts.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate.” Ned replied dully. MJ gave him a quick kiss, going for his lips. But involuntarily, he turned his head so she kissed his cheek. Thank god she didn’t say anything about it. Everyone put their gifts on the counter top of the kitchen, before jumping on the couch.

“Well, he’s been in a very snappy mood, soooo...” you point out playfully. Peter catches you smiling at him, and rolled his eyes before mimicking him.

“Yeah, I was just tired.” He mumbled while popping some popcorn. Peter grabbed a variety of sodas and placed them in front of the couch while waiting for the popcorn. “May’s not home, so we can swear and shit.”

“Yeah, but don’t fuck MJ.” Ned says sarcastically. Everyone chuckles a bit except for Peter.

“You’re just salty you can’t get birthday sex.” MJ snarks back. You let out an ‘oooooh’ while Betty whispered something in Ned’s ear. Whatever it was, it got his eyes to widen and his eyebrows to raise. She giggled and smirked a bit, and you fake gagged.

“Ew, stop eye fucking each other.” You scold playfully. They both roll their eyes while MJ gets off the couch and whispers something to Peter. You eyed her all the way, not even noticing you were glaring, until she left the living room and somewhere in the back. When Peter followed her, your heart clenched a bit and a small lump formed in your throat. It didn’t take a detective to figure out what was going to happen. Can you blame him, though? It was MJ of course he’d rather be alone with her.

If only Peter could tell you how wrong he was.

MJ was straddling his lap, kissing and sucking on his neck like her life depended on it, her shirt tossed aside next to her. Even though Peter was gripping her hips, his face screamed “get me out of here.” Her sucking just annoyed and discomforted him, and he would do anything to get out of this situation. Anything. MJ noticed his behavior, and slowly removed her lips from his neck.

“Is everything okay?” She asks shyly. It’s a little embarrassing when your boyfriend doesn’t give you his usual reaction in this kind of moment. Peter looked at her concerned eyes, and then down at the ground.

“Yeah, I’m just not really feeling this right now...”

“Oh...” MJ said kind of sadly. She hurried her shirt back over her head, and sat next to Peter. There was an awkward silence in the room, as she stared down at her hands in her lap and Peter stared at the carpeted floor under his feet. “Is everything okay with you?” It took Peter a second to process her words, before he looked up at her and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yeah, yeah, of course I’m fine.” He lied.

‘No, I’m not fine. I realized I’m not in love with you a month ago and I can’t bring myself to tell you because I know I’ll hurt you.’ His thoughts were screaming at him now. MJ being the most observant person on planet earth, could see straight through him.

“You’re lying,” Peter groaned slightly and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. MJ is silent again for a few moments before continuing, “is it Spider-Man shit?”

“No, that’s not it.” Peter said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s just....I-“ He wanted to say it, say it so fucking badly. “I just-“ He stopped, realizing this could actually happen. He could pour out the truth and everything would be over. He wouldn’t have this weight on his shoulders anymore.

Then he remembered it’s his birthday. He doesn’t wanna ruin this day. If he’s going to tell her, it was not going to be tonight. He needed to have one good day. “I’m just tired, and stressed. School and shit...” He mumbled.

Please believe me, please believe me, please believe me!

“Do you wanna talk about it?” She bought it. Peter let out a breath in relief, before shaking his head.

“No, I just-I wanna enjoy today. It’s my birthday in like, an hour, so...” MJ nods understandingly before kissing his cheek, hoping it would relax his nerves.

“You can tell me anything, okay?” She reassured. ‘If only that were true.’ Peter thought to himself. He nodded again, before MJ squeezed his shoulder and went back out to the living room, Peter following.

Since it was his special day, Peter made a rule that he could put on whatever movie and no one could complain. To no ones surprise, it was Star Wars for the one hundredth million time. Everyone passed out in pure boredom except for Peter. He checked the time on his phone. 11:59. Great. His fate was about to be determined by a tattoo. He gently pushed MJ’s head off of his lap, before running over to his room, and sitting down on the bed. He didn’t realize how long a minute actually was until he sat there in his own silence.

What if it says MJ? It could happen. Maybe he’s just in a weird faze and doesn’t realize it. I mean, why else wouldn’t he have broken up with her by now? If he truly ‘loved’ you as he said he did, he would’ve tried to win you over already. But he hasn’t. So what the fuck where his feelings doing? Fucking feelings...they’re so annoying.

Peter checked the time again on his phone. 12:00.

He didn’t realize it was going to actually happen until he looked at the time.

God, shit, fuck, I’m not ready for this. Don’t be a pussy, Peter. You fight criminals for fucks sake. A tattoo won’t hurt you.

He kept mentally reassuring himself, before he finally took a good amount of air in, and held up his wrist in front of his face. His right eye slowly peeled open, and he saw the first letter. It wasn’t M. His other eye opened, and he felt his face drop the second he read the full thing.

Y/N.

It’s there. That’s her name. This is real. I can’t take this back. Holy fuck. Oh my god. Peter had no idea what to think. He actually convinced himself for a second he didn’t love you. But the ink on his wrist just said ‘fuck that’ and smashed his beliefs into a million pieces.

‘Who’s your soulmate?’

‘It’s...Brad Davis!’

He was your soulmate.

And you knew.

And you lied about it. You said it was Brad. That’s why you got mad when he said to stay away from him. That’s why he was mad when you said Brad was your soulmate. Because he was yours.

You lied. And you did it on purpose.

Peter felt hot and angry tears glossing his eyes as the gears turned in his head. All the puzzle pieces were clicking, and just created anger in him. He didn’t know if it was directed towards him for not noticing sooner, or at you for lying to him about this kind of thing. It was a mix, most likely.

Peter‘s spidey-sense tingled and his ears started ringing, which made him direct his head towards the doorway. His face paled when you saw you standing there, your arms wrapped around your body, and your eyes being slightly glossy like his. Peter stood up and flared at you, a scowl across his face. His reaction—something that you dreaded, made you swallow hard, and look down at the ground. He was definitely angry, something you knew was going to happen. Now that I was actually happening now, it was a hundred times more nerve wracking. Your anxiety was at an all time high, and you slowly turned around, facing the door. You placed your shaky hands on it, slowly pushing it shut before turning the lock on the knob.

“I-I think we need to talk...” you stuttered nervously. Peter could feel his fists clench shut, trying to contain his anger, before replying.

“Yeah. I think we do.”

———————————————————————

a/n: after a million centuries chapter 5 is FINALLY here. sorry for the long wait, i had a pretty bad two weeks...but I’m fine now, sooo

Taglist 🏷 (requests are open!)

@marvel4geeks @ladykxxx08 @chloecreatesfictions @joyleenl @witchything @pluckypete @yourneighbourhoodclown @whatareyouhidingpeter @elamvlfoy @trumpettay @pparkeramorr @naioimie

#peter parker #peter parker imagines #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #spider man #spider man imagines #spider man x reader #spider man x you #spider-man #spider-man far from home #spider-man homecoming #spider man far from home imagine #spider man homecoming imagine #tom holland #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader

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anidealiveson · 3 years

Text

Thanksvember Master Post

Day 1 - Like Coming Home - It has a super rare “wholesome plot twist”! Without spoiling anything too huge, I really like that @julesherondalex took the time to talk about how important it is to take care of yourself first. You can’t love someone else properly, the way they deserve, if you don’t have that same love for yourself. I wasn’t expecting the heartbreaking scene, but the beautiful way in which that topic was was approached neither took away from the story or the joy.

Day 2 - Must Love Dogs - An incredibly fluffy (literally) fic that I loved reading. @rosehallshadowsinger did a really great job weaving Azriel and Elain’s canon personalities into this adorable AU scenario. It is obvious @rosehallshadowsinger took care to create believable personalities for two characters that didn’t get POVs in the books.

Day 3 - Striking Matches - I have to say that I wasn’t at all attracted to an AU fic about firefighters. I was also not a big Rowaelin fan before that, but I was work procrastinating so I gave it a try. Wellll, 30 parts later, I found myself delighted at the writing and sad it was over. I couldn’t believe how well @shyvioletcat cat was able to entirely re-characterize these two into such a different setting, yet still retaining what made them popular in the books. Aelin was perfect in her role as a snarky schoolteacher irritating the stoic firefighter Rowan. And the descriptions of the kids lining up at the firehouse demonstration and Jake’s adorable prodding was icing on the cake.

Day 4 - Close Quarters - I really loved the way @lady-therion wrote Nesta in this modern AU. I particularly like how she equates Nesta’s sometimes standoffish attitude as a very relatable personality trait. She has trouble reading people and gauging situations. It’s well written and the dialogue is unique for a plot that is common in ff!

Day 5 - Like A Lonely House - It’s got a colossal I love Lucy level misunderstanding mixed in with a lot of tension and angst. This Nesta that is full of sacrifice and duty and fire is how I imagine the Nesta who feels that she has a stake in the Fae world would be like. @featherymalignancy wove such a captivating new world in Macar, that it felt a lot like being introduced to the 8th court in the ACOTAR world.

Day 6 - Death Dance - There are several takes out there that touch on Nesta in the Ilyrian camps, but I love how @thewayshedreamed interpreted Nesta’s skills on the battlefield as a calculated dance. Nesta has always been a raging storm, but I love how @thewayshedreamed took care to show us a Nesta that channeled that storm into discipline. If SJM never intended to release a Nessian focused book, I would have considered this a satisfying end to their story.

Day 7 - One Night Standards - I love the way @sassyhobbits writes Aelin with her typical extremely sassy exterior, but also made sure to saddle her with a vulnerable side that runs deep. I normally don’t care for slow burns, but I like the pace of her relationship with Rowan here, and that they had to work hard at it. I also like the plot lines that involved their PR stunts and how the public grew to love them as well.

Day 8 - Goose Chasing - Its the most absurd plot of any fanfic I’ve read! The title is not figurative. Its really does involve chasing a goose. @rhysismydaddy did a fantastic job encapsulating the spirit of silly Cassian and grumpy Nesta in a situation they’d likely never find themselves in, yet making it entirely believable.

Day 9 - Manon Chooses The Worst Babysitter Possible - It’s such a casual and fluffy and hilarious read. It was fun to read about a softer and more delicate Manon. Through this absurd mistake, @sarah-bae-maas did an excellent job really humanizing Manon and postulating a fun in-world domestic scenario.

Day 10 - My Hunger Knows No Bounds - @perseusannabeth manages to take a simple concept and weave a sweet narrative. I particularly love how @perseusannabeth incorporated her personal details into it and took the time to share her lovely culture with us.

Day 11 - Knowing me, Knowing you - We never got to actually see Aelin rule Terrasen (well we got a tinyyy bit) in the books. Though this was modern day, @nalgenewhore tells a fun story of what that could have been like.

Day 12 - Forever (is a long time) - @noodlecatposts takes Elide and Lorcan’s completely polar opposite personalities and spins an interesting (and frankly quite adorable) story. All the rules crack me up. My favorite Lorcan is the one that reminds me of Luke Danes from Gilmore Girls. Currently, he is in the middle of grumpily fixing up her flooded room, so I am sure that my favorite parts are yet to come.

Day 13 - Go Your Own Way - I appreciate @tomtenadia for putting to words a scene that I desperately wanted in ACOWAR or even ACOFAS. A lovely parallel to an equally lovely Fleetwood mac song.

Day 14 - In Which She Makes A Friend - It is no surprise that the fandom wants Nesta to find her place in the Illyrian mountains and even bring about some social change with the female warriors. But the way @bookstantrash got there was such a wonderful and endearing journey. Big fan of the callbacks to how Kaelin was treated and the similarities to a certain Illyrian warrior was when he was younger. We got to see a sweet Nesta, who I’d like to think was attempting to make up for some of her regrets through taking care of Kaelin.

Day 15 - The Ranch - As a huge fan of Sweet Home Alabama, its should be no surprise that I loved this fic by @tacmc . I enjoyed the slow change that we saw in a stubborn Nesta as she opened up to this new way of life and reconnected with her sisters and found a home with Cassian.

Day 16 - Felons - Such a unique interpretation of Nesta and Cassian. I really like the self-sacrificing Nesta angle and @rhysismydaddy did a great job weaving intrigue into the unraveling of what we knew to be a her innocence. I never read The Witness, but this really made me want to.

Day 17 - Of Books and Timber - Cassian offers to build a shelf for Nesta. The way @duskandstarlight goes through the entire range of emotions through Nesta is brilliant. She starts out with cold indifference, but by the end, we get from her a sweet and tender gesture of gratitude. Showing that meeting each other halfway with small gestures is all they ever needed.

Day 18 - You Should Sleep In My Bed More Often - I absolutely loved this quick exchange between Nesta and Cassian after she accidentally injures him. I can’t believe how much I laughed out loud when Cassian said “I need you to protect me closer”. @charincharge perfectly captured the teasing childish essence of Cassian and Nesta’s hilarious victim-blaming was so on the nose that I might have thought this was taken right out of ACOSAF.

Day 19 - The Right Swipe - I really enjoyed this take on the inner circle mixed with the super modern online dating plot. I especially love that @redisriding created genuinely realistic characters (body issues, social anxiety etc). Great read!

Day 20 - Goldfish Prompt - What a fun read. I love how frantic and much personality Feyre had here. I love how dedicated to her fish she was, and how that made her super endearing. Cute read from @azrielsiphons

Day 21 - The One With The Snowstorm - What I really like is that Cassian actually says that he is sorry for his part in Nesta’s exile. I am not bitter about it, but it was an interesting turn. They need to meet halfway here and I rarely see it so well written as @joysbell has done here!

Day 22 - Prompt - A lovely and cute and sweet prompt written by @crowsvalentine! I love the ramp up of suspense just to get to the hilarious payoff. Its adorable and worth the quick read.

Day 23 - Fix It - is one by @thewayshedreamed that I love in its simplicity. It’s a small little argument Cassian and Nesta get into, but its still compelling. It’s sweet and super endearing the way the two of them are written and the subtle way they work through it. Great read!

Day 24 - I Do Bad Things To You - The mob angle may have been done before, but I don’t think with as much care and regard that @tswaney17 has been giving it. I how the canon personalities of the characters translate so well into this modern AU. Its very obvious that @tswaney17 has done her research. I especially love all the details around Elain as a surgeon. The story is compelling and well written and every chapter has me wanting more.

Day 25 - Love Her Like She should Be Loved - This is an excellent fic that I really loved. @julemmaes did such a great job translating some of the canon tension from ACOFAS into a modern world. It’s ripe with emotion, drama and quite a bit of heart. I love how earnestly Cassian comes to Nesta’s defense even in the face of going against his entire family. I like the reference to some very real psychological struggles. I think a lot of people can relate to it.

Day 26 - Literally In Love - I really enjoy the subtle mystery that follows this entire journey. I enjoy that @julesherondalex keeps us guessing, while simultaneously weaving a sweet and tender story about two shy teachers and just a slew of mishaps worthy of a Shakespearian drama.

Day 27 - The Shadow Bond - I love Azriel, and this is such a wonderful fic by @radientwings focusing on how his shadows might work. His shadows are the one thing that I am most curious about him in the series, so it was lovely to read such a well written interpretation of them.

Day 28 - Exes and Oh’s - Just a shout out to @highqueenofelfhame for this lovely story about rekindling past love. I like that even though the plot was uncomplicated, the emotions were not. I love that Aelin didn’t have a perfect reason for what she did, but sometimes that is just how things are. This is a story about taking a second chance, whether it’s deserved or not.

Day 29 - Fever - I really love this fic called Fever. I enjoyed how @lady-therion portrayed Nesta. She hit the entire gammut of characteristics (snarky, worried, vulnerable, caring, short-tempered, flirty, you name it!) but it really worked here. I found this nurse Nesta to be endearing and relatable and the dynamic between her and Cassian was very sweet. Just go read the damned thing.

Day 30 - Baby Steps - I really really love this fic. @runesandfaes did such a great job in just so few words to show a really sweet moment between Chaol, Yrene and their daughter learning to walk. I love the parallel back to when Chaol was learning to walk and the cameo of the golden couch. So sweet.

#thanksvember #fanfics #fanfiction

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radishaur · 4 years

Note

hey! i absolutely love how you write! can i request a zuko imagine with prompts 17 and 78 from the list that makes a reader swoon? thank you!!

Here it is! I hope you enjoy! For those who haven’t read the prompts here they are. #17 is “I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do” and #78 is “Don’t pretend that you don’t feel the same way”.

- Zoe

•••

Play Pretend (Zuko x Reader)

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

Part: 1/1

Summary: See Request

•••

Being Toph’s sister came with many benefits. One of which being that you always had the best teacher right next to you. She taught you everything she knew, but probably the most helpful thing was how to tell if someone was lying.

It came in handy during moments like these, where your long term enemy is standing in front of you and trying to convince you he’s on your side now.

When Zuko first joined the group, you were incredibly wary of him. You knew what he was capable of and even the knowledge that he wasn’t lying didn’t make you feel any better. People can change their minds very easily. Just because he believed he was your friend today didnt mean he wasn’t capable of changing it again. He had proven that.

So, maybe you were holding a grudge. Was that so bad? You were still sour over his betrayal in Ba Sing Se and the fact that you just maybe found him attractive was unacceptable to you. You couldn’t allow that. He was your enemy. It didn’t matter that your heart fluttered whenever you looked at him.

To compensate, you distanced yourself. Or at least you tried to. It became increasingly difficult when he was so kind and awkward all the time. It made him hard to hate. Not to mention the fact that he was going out of his way to make things up to you.

Admittedly, you found yourself letting your walls down and eventually became best friends. You two did everything together. Every chore and every adventure that Zuko whisked one of the Gaang members on. You found yourself falling more and more for him. It was consuming you.

You were desperately in love with him.

He was someone you never expected to even tolerate, let alone love. And yet, here you were, staring at him from across the fire as your heart melted. You had to say something.

“Hey, can we talk alone for a moment?” you asked him as he was putting out the fire.

“Uh sure,” he answered, looking somewhat sceptical but following you anyways.

You led him off into the woods that surrounded the Ember Island house. You took a step back from him and took a deep breath. You were still unsure if you could actually go through with it.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asked, clueless to the mental turmoil I was going through.

“I kind of, well I.......I wanted to confess something,” I admitted, picking at my nails as I spoke.

He stayed silent as he waited for me to continue. I took another deep breath. Goodness this was difficult. Was it too late to back out?

“Ok, well before I say it I just want to say that I don’t want this to change anything between us. I just need to say something so it doesn’t eat me alive,” I explained, looking at him with a weak smile.

“Y/N, you’re kind of scaring me. Is it that bad?” he asked.

“N-Not bad, per say. Just kind of important,” I sighed, feeling the ball of anxiety in my stomach grow.

He didn’t say anything.

“Ok, how do I say this,” I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose.

Now was my last chance to back out. I took one last deep breath and decided to just rip the bandage off. Maybe if I just say it all at once it won’t be as hard?

“I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do,” I blurted out, my gaze locked with his the entire time.

Zuko’s mouth flopped open and his eyes widened. I gulped. Usually that wasn’t a good reaction to hearing someone is in love with you.

“I....,” he began, but he trailed off.

“Oh dear. That was too much at once, wasn’t it? Ugh what was I thinking,” I muttered, slapping my forehead before saying to Zuko, “I guess I just want to know where I stand with you.”

“I can’t be friends with you anymore,” he said before turning around and walking hastily back towards the house.

I felt my heart sink. My eyes watered and I allowed myself to cry slightly. I hadn’t expected him to reciprocate, but to not even want to be friends anymore? I sunk to the ground and buried my face in my hands.

After that, Zuko ignored me entirely. It was the exact same way that I treated him when he first arrived. Anytime I tried to start a conversation with him he always had an excuse to leave. He wouldn’t even stand near me anymore. Everybody had noticed the sudden change.

“What’s up with you and Zuko?” Suki asked me during one of our self proclaimed girls nights.

“Oh....it’s-it’s nothing,” I stammered, trying to avoid the topic.

“Liar. You know you can’t get out that easy,” Toph smirked, wiggling her toes against the floor.

“Even I know that’s a lie,” Katara added in.

I finally broke down and told them about what happened that night. Katara was shocked and comforting while Toph was furious.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. Zuko’s an idiot,” she soothed, holding me close as I let my tears dry on my cheeks.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Toph exclaimed angrily.

“Toph, it’s not his fault he doesn’t feel the same. I-“ I began to say, but she cut me off.

“But that’s just it! He’s lying!” she said, her arms crossed over her chest, “I can literally feel his heartbeat speed up whenever you’re close to him and I know for a fact that Sokka and Aang have been teasing him for his crush for weeks now.”

“W-What?” I asked in disbelief.

“If that’s true, then why lie? Why is he acting like this?” Katara questioned, also clearly in disbelief.

“I don’t know,” Toph admitted.

My blood began to boil. What the hell was his problem? I stood up from Katara’s hug and looked out the window. Aang, Sokka, and Zuko were all around the fire talking. My gaze hardened and I began marching downstairs.

“Y/N, where are you going? Don’t do something stupid!” Katara called out to you.

“Kick his ass!” Toph exclaimed at the same time.

You could hear them begin to bicker about their opposing viewpoints, but you didn’t listen. You were purely focused on confronting Zuko. You stormed out into the courtyard.

“Oh, hey Y/N! Want to- oh no,” Sokka said, stopping mid question when he saw the angry expression on my face.

Aang gulped and I saw Zuko tense up in fear.

“Wow, I’m tired. I think I’m gonna go to sleep,” Zuko said, faking a yawn and rushing to walk inside.

I slammed my foot onto the ground and erected a huge wall in his path, forcing him to stop. Sokka and Aang mumbled some excuse and quickly left. I marched towards Zuko who was now facing my direction but refusing to look at me.

“Why are you playing this stupid game?” I asked, crossing my arms across my chest.

“I’m not playing any game,” he huffed, still refusing to look at me.

“Then why are you acting like this! I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by admitting my feelings for you, but you’re acting like a child. How can you just ignore me?” I asked, not even trying to hide the hurt in my voice.

“I’m not acting like a child,” he muttered, a scowl crossing his face as he looked at me.

I felt tears begin to prick my eyes. I uncrossed my arms and let the dirt wall fall back into the ground.

“Do I really mean that little to you?” I asked quietly, my voice breaking as I asked.

His scowl immediately dropped and was replaced with a face of regret. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.

“Apparently, according to Toph and pretty much everyone but you, you like me back. So why are you doing this? What’s the point?” I questioned him, taking a step closer as he once again avoided my gaze.

“I’m not doing anything,” he insisted.

“I thought you were at least happy. We spent so much time together and you always seemed to be happy. Even if it was just as a friend,” I said, reaching out to grab his arm.

He grabbed my wrist before I could and looked at me once more with an angry glare on his face.

“I’m never happy,” he growled.

“I can literally feel that you’re lying,” I reminded him.

He blushed at being caught in his lie and released my hand. He once again refused to look at me. I sighed.

“Please, just answer my questions. Why are you doing this if you like me back? Because it’s pretty clear to me now that you do,” I pleaded, tears freely falling down my face now.

“I.....,” he tried to say, but his voice just stopped.

“Don’t pretend that you don’t feel the same way. Please. Just tell me the truth,” I begged once more.

He looked at me once more and I could see the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. His breath hitched when he looked at me. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes.

“Because I always hurt the people I care about. I’m a disaster waiting to happen,” he admitted.

“Do you really believe that?” I asked.

“Of course I believe it! I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t. I’m head over heels in love with you! I just don’t want to see you get hurt because of me,” he cried out, his fists clenched at his sides angrily.

“Zuko....,” I said, taking another step closer to him.

I could now feel the head that radiated off his skin. It was like a warm blanket that wrapped around him and anyone near it. It was one of the things I loved most about him.

I leaned up to kiss him. It was soft and short, but it was everything I had ever dreamed of. His eyes opened in shock.

“You’re a better man now, Zuko. I know you would never hurt me,” I whispered, our noses brushing against eachother as I let my hand caress his face.

He pulled me closer to him as his hands wrapped around my waist. He closed the distance between us as he pressed his lips onto mine. This time it was harder, more passionate. I melted into him.

I could hear Sokka and Aang cheering triumphantly. Toph was making fake gagging noises and Katara was giggling at the whole thing with Suki. I smiled into Zuko’s lips as I heard them, but I didn’t even care. All I cared about was Zuko.

#zuko #prince zuko fanfic #prince zuko fanfiction #prince zuko fic #zuko imagine #zuko x reader #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader

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spencersawkward · 3 years

Text

switchblade faith//spencer reid - chapter 6

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid.

relationship: Fem!OC/Spencer

content warnings: discussion of mental illness (schizophrenia)

word count: 4.4k

masterlist

the thing about growing up in a place where there are so many dinosaur fossils is that you start to search for them everywhere. my friends and I, in elementary school, saw the enormous bones, those huge sockets where eyes used to sit. and even though there was nothing in them now, they seemed to glare back at us. if you stood right in front, face-to-face, it felt like looking down the barrel of a gun. a several-ton, reptilian gun. petrifying.

and it wasn't like there was much to do in Montana, anyway. sometimes the sheer expanse of that place, especially if we drove a bit out of town, was enough to put fear in me. like we'd been abandoned there.

when my mom got her migraines, I dug holes in the front yard. occasionally, I'd find something-- a funnily-shaped rock, usually-- and it would look enough like a dinosaur tooth that for a moment I'd deceive myself into thinking that I'd made a discovery. it didn't matter that actual remnants would be buried much, much further in the ground than I could turn with my small hands. but I liked the slight rush it sent through my body, seeing what other people hadn't. sitting back on my heels and brushing off the excess, the only thing I could hear was my breath. there's something quite serene about that, the focusing in on something which normally I would never think about. my heart pounding. and I collected my findings so that I would be able to put them together again when there were enough pieces.

but this doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, particularly not when I'm short on time and staring at an upsettingly pathetic evidence board.

"the unsub said we needed a book, didn't he?" Spencer brings me to attention. there's an unfolded paper on the board that Hotch's wife dropped off an hour ago. he's talking to her in his office about who delivered it; we don't know anything else. all it has is a bunch of numbers written in neat black ink.

"yep." I bite the end of my pen and frown. "one that 'inspired many an adventure.'"

"then it's a book code," Reid says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. I arch an eyebrow and he continues. "each one of these sets of numbers represents a specific word. page 118, line 30, word 3." he points one long finger at a certain spot, and I follow it.

"so we just need to figure out what the words are and fill in the blanks," I lean forward in my chair, cradling a cup of coffee that's starting to grow cold. "except what book are we looking for?"

"I don't know," he shrugs. I lean back in my seat; if Reid doesn't know, we're all screwed. "the thing is that it has to be the exact same edition of the exact same book."

"that's encouraging." I sigh. the useless feeling puts me in a bad mood. we're wasting time by sitting and learning nothing. although there's nowhere to go.

I'm not sure how long we're there; hours, at least. night becomes less heavy, hues of a purplish pink sky slotting through the blinds and reminding me of just how exhausted I am. not enough to sleep. bone-tired.

Spencer crosses his arms, leans his chin on his fist and stares at the numbers like they'll suddenly make sense. and maybe they will; I don't know how his head works. some miracle that has eluded us for the past few hours might appear now. but the longer I stare, the more confused I get. instead, I start to sift through the pile of other evidence pieces scattered around the table. we could be missing something.

"you know, I can understand how this guy got our addresses and phone numbers, but there's no way all that information about JJ's butterfly obsession or Rossi's trips to baseball games would be in our personnel files." I frown. those things wouldn't be relevant.

Spencer isn't even listening to me, though. he's muttering to himself, eyes flickering over the floor.

"'never would it be night, but always clear day to any man's sight,'" he says it more loudly, then finally focuses on me. "it sounds familiar-- I think I've heard it somewhere before."

I also get the feeling that I've heard it before, except it keeps slipping my memory. a lot of rhyming poetry leaves my mind after I finish reading it, and I don't want to lead us in the wrong direction, either. he uncaps a dry erase marker and hurries over to the white board, writing "Possible Book Titles" in messy scrawl, staring at it. I watch him for a moment, the way he talks to himself as he works through his thoughts, certain words floating in the air.

"how many books do you think are published every year?" I ask. maybe if we can narrow that down, we can get a better perspective on how to proceed. Spencer doesn't even look up.

"thousands. easily." he sighs dejectedly. and then his head snaps up. "year... every year."

he spins and starts to push all the evidence bags aside on the table, scrambling to grab something. I don't know what to say about his fervent behavior. I'm speechless when he finds the baseball card. he shoves it in my face. "1963."

"what about it?" I take the card.

"if the book has to be the right volume and the right publication date, why is this from 1963?"

his eyes are enormous. wide pupils that urge me to catch onto his line of thought. for a moment, I have no idea what he's talking about. my eyes run over the baseball card for what feels like the millionth time, examining the date. I slam the thing down on the table and we look at each other.

"Rossi said 1959." I say. he nods.

"so the book must be from 1963, or it wouldn't fit the pattern," Reid straightens and runs his hands through his hair, his spine finally straightening as he takes a deep breath. I can practically sense the electric current that radiates from his body while he thinks. "I'm gonna go ask Garcia about something."

he's gone before I have a chance to respond.

...

the rest of the day gets really weird really fast. as all of us are focused on finding the unsub, I fall into a daze. I don't eat, don't drink anything other than tankards of coffee while my eyes start to burn from looking at the board.

we've finished talking on the phone to a librarian at some facility in Virginia, where the exact edition of the book we've been seeking is housed. it took about half an hour for us to go through each blank in the code with her. somehow, that prompted Spencer to think of his mom, so he called her and requested she be flown out here from Las Vegas immediately. the whole time he's on the phone, he rocks back and forth on his heels and keeps glancing at me.

I pretend to be focused on the pile of evidence, not wanting to intrude. he already told me about his mom, and I'm assuming this has something to do with her being a professor of medieval literature. it's not really my place to question it.

when he hangs up, he doesn't say anything to me. there's quite literally nothing else for us to do. I clear my throat, lick my lips, and sit a bit straighter. he's still standing with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"um," I wrack my mind for anything that would take our minds off the waiting. "do you wanna play cards?"

Spencer tries to smile. it looks more like a wince as he nods. with Prentiss and Morgan talking to the guy who delivered the code papers and Hotch and Rossi on their way to interview the parents of the missing girl (whose name is Rebecca Bryant, apparently), we're kind of aimless.

I head to the bullpen to grab my favorite deck, then return and close the door behind me. there are plenty of other employees out there bustling around, and the noise probably won't help his anxiety. he's sitting in the chair next to where I was, leaning his elbow against the table while he presses his knuckles to his temple. he looks incredibly pensive.

"here." I plop down next to him.

"thanks."

"mhmm." instead of starting a conversation, I just shuffle the deck. the only sounds are the flutter of paper against paper and the slap of the cards on the table's surface. his eyes follow the movements of my hands, the way I bend and mix them up, before eventually dealing them out.

it should be awkward, but it's not. the weight of his thoughts fills enough of the space for the both of us; I can practically hear him running through scenarios in his mind, ever.

we start to play for a couple minutes in silence, and I'm in shock when he's the one who initiates a game of war. all I do is smile to myself as the pile in the middle of the table begins. we get caught up in it; both of us are tense, and he finally slaps his hand down on the pile before I do. my hand is covering his, evidence of my defeat.

"hey!" he cheers, looking up at me with a surprised grin and dragging the pile towards him. I narrow my eyes.

"I was distracted." I roll my eyes.

"yeah?" he starts to laugh as he sets forth another card. "by what? how I'm crushing you?"

"you get one hand and suddenly you're the master, now, huh?" I can't help but giggle. he nods and smiles like, yeah, pretty much. I scoff and we continue to play. halfway through the next round, he speaks up.

"I forgot she always used to read me that poem."

"what poem?" I frown.

"The Parliament of Fowls-- it's how we figured out the book title."

the name slides into place for me at last. I must have read it in college or something, because it didn't leave that big of an imprint on my memory.

"Chaucer?" I raise an eyebrow. his head startles up from staring at the table.

"yeah." he smiles a little.

"I'm not entirely stupid." I wink before setting down another card. he makes a noncommittal noise.

he seems to get uncomfortable, shifting, then gives up on his previous train of thought. "it's kind of funny, isn't it?"

I just give him an inquisitive look.

"I should have realized sooner. nobody knows things like the fact that JJ collected butterflies except for me." he isn't looking at me, but I notice that he does seem more relaxed than before. his shoulders aren't so hunched over, and there's even a hint of a thoughtful smile on his face.

"that's sweet." I reply softly.

"people tell me their secrets all the time," he stops putting out cards. I stop, too, although he doesn't even notice that we're no longer playing the game. his back is reclined in the chair. "I think it's because they know I don't have anyone to betray them to."

my heart sinks in my chest at the implication. his tone is a bit melancholy, but there's something else in it, too, that I can't quite place. like a resigned loneliness. I want to say something, though I'm not sure what. and I don't think it would make a difference anyway. he continues on before I have to, thankfully.

"except my mom. I tell her... pretty much everything." he looks up at me when he says the last part, smiling. his eyes sparkle, and something about the low tone of voice and the way he gives up all of this at once makes me think that Spencer hasn't spent much time telling his own secrets. only hearing others', storing them away.

"I don't think anyone would mind." I reply.

"you know, I write her a letter every day." his laugh is really lovely. my heart stutters.

"I think that's nice."

"well, it depends on why I write her."

"what do you mean?" this time I frown, my fingertips fidgeting with each other under the table. I hate that I'm nervous right now, worried that I'll somehow ruin the moment.

"I write her letters... so that I don't feel so guilty about not visiting her." each syllable like its own individual battle for him.

the admission is like a cement block between us, something ridiculously heavy that he has compressed and repressed until it's too solid to hide anymore. and he's avoiding contact when he says it, and the moments after. his fingertips mess around with a stray paper clip, twisting the thing into oblivion.

"did you know that schizophrenia is genetically passed?" he asks, then peeks up to gauge my reaction. schizophrenia.

"how long has she been diagnosed?" my own eyes are barely able to hold his. everything in my body wants to reach out and hug him, even though that would only ruin this. Spencer isn't a fan of physical touch.

"since before I was born," he shrugs, poking his palm with the end of the paper clip. "she was on meds but didn't get placed in Bennington until I was eighteen." this also seems to be bitter in his mouth. "you get used to it. it's just... I won't know for a while."

I nod. it likely won't manifest for a couple years with him, but that only puts a ticking clock over his head. and, judging by the way his body is sinking into the swivel chair, he senses it constantly. I wish I could tell him that he doesn't have it, that he won't have it, except I can't. there's no way for anyone to find out right now.

"I'm sorry, Spence." it's a weak thing to say-- stupid, really. I've never had a way with words. instead, I pour every ounce of my emotion into it. I don't want him to feel alone. I guess I'm sorry for that, too, along with everything else. nobody deserves to deal with that by themselves.

"it's okay," he smiles. "it is what it is, right?"

"I mean, I think it's a little more complicated than that. but yeah." wow, really fucking eloquent. he chuckles at this, though, brushing his fingers over the top of his deck of cards. he flips the top one over and we return to playing, leaving the conversation to lie open between us.

...

my body feels like it's been dragged through a corn field by the time we get back to the office. I think I'm still a little in shock, honestly. this whole day has been jam-packed with things, easily the most intense case I've had yet. my morning was occupied by a code-cracking book search, then a series of out-of-place card games with Reid, then his mother arrived and I left them to talk so as not to overwhelm her.

we rescued Rebecca Bryant-- Spencer did, I mean. it was chivalric, how he went into the house and tried to talk down her kidnapper (who happened to be her father). the guy blew himself up, and Morgan tells me that they barely got out of the way in time. I was on the main level with Hotch, trying to find Rebecca. again, Reid came to the rescue with that eidetic memory, recalling the puzzle pieces and a photograph that included an illuminated basement light. the key he received in the mail slipped into her shackles with ease, unlocking her before we carried her out onto the lawn and watched the house burn into an ash-covered shell of itself. I remember the way the smoke billowed into the air, how sparks fluttered out of the windows and dissipated into nothingness.

I stood there like a rock, Reid stumbling up next to me. his face was covered in a sheen of sweat, and his hair was curlier than usual. the heat must have ruined whatever he usually used to smooth it down.

"hey." I'd said, putting my hand on his shoulder as if to offer some kind of stability. he glanced at me with something like unease, then tried to straighten up.

"hi."

"I heard you were a hero in there."

"did Morgan say that?"

"yeah, why?" I laughed. Reid chuckled, shook his head slowly.

"he's teasing me."

"for what?" I frowned.

"pure irony. you know how he always calls me 'pretty boy' and stuff?"

"I sure do." my fist came up to softly slug him in the shoulder. Spencer stumbled a bit and my eyes went wide as I tried to right him before he fell. he made a face as he regained his footing and then I giggled. "you okay, there?"

"I'm fine." he tried to be annoyed, but he was hiding a smile.

"is Rebecca gonna be okay?" I nodded to the ambulance, where he had just spent the past couple minutes talking to the paramedics and checking her condition.

"she'll be okay-- physically, I mean."

"seriously," I watched them close the doors to the vehicle, closing her up inside before they sped off to the hospital. "two years in there."

he nodded and we started to walk to our cars to meet up with the team and head to the office. we both knew his mother was still at Quantico, probably anxiously awaiting his return after she helped him crack the case. but he didn't seem to want to talk about it, so I asked something else that was on my mind.

"do you ever go back and look at old cases?"

"old cases?" he stared at the ground beneath his feet, kicking up the gravel as a way to distract himself. I cleared my throat.

"like, ones that you guys have solved. have you ever gone back and checked to see how the victims are doing now?"

"I haven't worked here long enough for that, really." he had shrugged. I remember how the air felt in my lungs, a little bit poisoned by smoke. still breathable as I inhaled it deeply.

"really makes you think."

"what do you mean?"

"'saving' people has to be more than just sweeping them out of harm's way at the last second, right?" I put air-quotes around the word.

he thinks this over, nodding.

"sorry, I know you're tired." one look at him and I realized that the question I'd posed was one for another time. he walked like there was some unconscionable weight on his shoulders, like he didn't think he deserved his moment of glory for saving that girl's life-- and ours, probably, too.

he looks the same now, pushing the glass doors of the BAU open and immediately focusing in on the windows of the conference room, where the blinds have been lowered to make Diana feel safer. I watch as he runs up the stairs, returning to her as soon as possible.

I wonder what it is to love someone that much, that fear for their well-being that puts you on edge.

Emily places a hand on my shoulder.

"you okay?" she asks, draws my attention away from the closed door of the round table room. I smile and nod cheerfully.

"yep. just ready to go to bed."

"no kidding," she scoffs, slamming her go-bag on her desk. "I feel like I've been up for days."

"so it wasn't just me?" I laugh as I set my things in my own space. she shakes her head slowly and Morgan walks over, his own gait seemingly heavy with exhaustion.

"plans for tonight, ladies?" he jokes.

"with my couch and takeout." Emily replies. once my bag is all packed up, she and Morgan and I wander out of the office. Rossi stops us at the last minute, joining before we head into the hallway to take the elevator downstairs.

I peek once to see Hotch sitting in his office, settled in with the light on like he's been there all day. my brain almost short-circuits at the thought of doing more work in any capacity right now.

"does he ever sleep?" I ask quietly as though he can hear me from all the way over here. Rossi glances at the unit chief through the window, shaking his head slowly and letting out the kind of knowing chuckle that only older people have.

"nope."

"wait," Morgan sees our small grouping, almost does a head count as JJ emerges from her office and sidles up silently next to me while we wait for the steel doors to open. "where's the kid?"

"Spence is flying his mom back to Vegas." JJ replies right away. when I saw him disappear into that room, I knew they wouldn't leave for a while; moving her around so much can't be good for her mental state. but I guess they're eager to get her to the sanitarium, which also makes sense.

"oh, okay." Morgan shrugs. I chance a look in that direction. the blinds are still drawn. Medieval literature. huh. part of me begins to think about all the things she must know, must have passed down to Reid.

...

"I'm gonna say... three." my voice is uncertain at first, but then the flavor coats my tongue and I smack my lips. "yeah."

Spencer's nonresponse is damning. I hear the puff of air he exhales in frustration as I lift the sleeping mask up from my eyes. I got it from my go-bag; we've decided to repurpose it for the morning in the office. technically, we could just close our eyes and keep it simple, but I thought it would be sort of funny because there are two huge cartoon eyes printed on the front.

"I'm right, aren't I?" I smirk, eyes landing on his crossed arms and taut expression. he shrugs.

"I think you're cheating."

"how am I cheating?" I laugh.

"I don't know, but you are." he shakes his head as I wrap my fingers around the handle and take a sip of the coffee. we're taste-testing to see who's better at finding the sugar content. it's become a pattern of ours: I make him a cup and he makes me one and then we drop in the sugar packets while the other keeps their eyes covered. it's actually pretty fun, especially because I'm good at it.

"your turn, then." I take off the sleeping mask and hand it over to him. he slips the thing over his eyes and waits patiently for me to put the sugar packets in. I chew on my bottom lip as I decide what number to do.

as I do this, JJ stands behind my shoulder.

"nap time, Spence?" she asks him with a chuckle. I explain before he has the opportunity to slander me with more cheating accusations.

"we're trying to see how good we are at detecting the number of sugars." I pick up six packets, knowing it'll definitely overload his senses. this'll teach him to call me a liar. JJ's eyes widen.

"cover your ears, Reid, I don't want you to hear me tearing them open." I order. he obliges, and I can sense the frown on his face while I dump in the sweetener.

"okay." I mix it with the stirrer before placing it in front of him.

"this thing smells like lavender." he observes randomly in reference to my sleeping mask.

"it's got scented stuff inside the fabric." I say.

"interesting. did you know that lavender is actually proven to be much more effective than--"

"Spence, just drink the coffee. I have to go talk to Hotch about something and I wanna see how this ends." JJ cuts him off light-heartedly. I purse my lips because I was sort of interested in what he was going to say, but he takes the not-so-subtle hint and lifts the mug.

I expect him to be repulsed by the sweetness, or at least to show some kind of discomfort. however, he takes a long draw before setting it on the table. his hand clutches onto the mug, still, as he pulls the mask off.

"five. this is my usual concoction." he clenches his jaw in complete seriousness. I have to fight an enormous grin, though it just turns into me twisting my mouth to the side of my face and JJ raising her eyebrows in surprise.

"what? am I wrong?" he gets nervous, voice going up an octave as he glances between the two of us. JJ averts her eyes, smiling.

"you lose!" I cackle, throwing my hand up for JJ to high-five. Spencer looks at me like I've stolen his life's savings.

"no! there's no way--"

"I forgot how many you usually put in there and I still won." I feign an awed expression.

"it's okay, Spence. you can always practice." JJ pats his shoulder sympathetically and then leaves us, running up the stairs to Hotch's office. I'm still smirking triumphantly as he glares at me.

"don't hate the player," I sigh, throwing my hands up. "hate the game."

"well, the player also happened to invent the game, so I think I'm entitled." he counters. I snort at his quickness.

"can I try this?" I point to the mug. "I've never had one with six."

he pushes the drink in my direction with his fingertips, almost having given up on trying to fight the loss. "there were six? that's only one off."

"yeah, but you need to get it right to win, dummy." I take a sip of the coffee. it's so sweet, though, that I shake my head and set it back down. "what in God's name is that?"

"you made it!" I sort of like the way his voice gets higher-pitched when he's vehement about something. it's cute.

"I wish I hadn't." I shove it over to him, half-expect that he'll not touch it now that I've taken a drink from it. but he continues to take ingest the caffeine, undeterred. I quirk an eyebrow silently, watching him.

"what?" he asks.

"nothing," I stand up. "come on, we should get some work done. I don't want Hotch to come down here and yell at us."

#baby spence #baby spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #fanfic #slow burn #friends to lovers

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a-room-of-my-own · 4 years

Text

This isn’t an easy piece to write, for reasons that will shortly become clear, but I know it’s time to explain myself on an issue surrounded by toxicity. I write this without any desire to add to that toxicity.

For people who don’t know: last December I tweeted my support for Maya Forstater, a tax specialist who’d lost her job for what were deemed ‘transphobic’ tweets. She took her case to an employment tribunal, asking the judge to rule on whether a philosophical belief that sex is determined by biology is protected in law. Judge Tayler ruled that it wasn’t.

My interest in trans issues pre-dated Maya’s case by almost two years, during which I followed the debate around the concept of gender identity closely. I’ve met trans people, and read sundry books, blogs and articles by trans people, gender specialists, intersex people, psychologists, safeguarding experts, social workers and doctors, and followed the discourse online and in traditional media. On one level, my interest in this issue has been professional, because I’m writing a crime series, set in the present day, and my fictional female detective is of an age to be interested in, and affected by, these issues herself, but on another, it’s intensely personal, as I’m about to explain.

All the time I’ve been researching and learning, accusations and threats from trans activists have been bubbling in my Twitter timeline. This was initially triggered by a ‘like’. When I started taking an interest in gender identity and transgender matters, I began screenshotting comments that interested me, as a way of reminding myself what I might want to research later. On one occasion, I absent-mindedly ‘liked’ instead of screenshotting. That single ‘like’ was deemed evidence of wrongthink, and a persistent low level of harassment began.

Months later, I compounded my accidental ‘like’ crime by following Magdalen Burns on Twitter. Magdalen was an immensely brave young feminist and lesbian who was dying of an aggressive brain tumour. I followed her because I wanted to contact her directly, which I succeeded in doing. However, as Magdalen was a great believer in the importance of biological sex, and didn’t believe lesbians should be called bigots for not dating trans women with penises, dots were joined in the heads of twitter trans activists, and the level of social media abuse increased.

I mention all this only to explain that I knew perfectly well what was going to happen when I supported Maya. I must have been on my fourth or fifth cancellation by then. I expected the threats of violence, to be told I was literally killing trans people with my hate, to be called cunt and bitch and, of course, for my books to be burned, although one particularly abusive man told me he’d composted them.

What I didn’t expect in the aftermath of my cancellation was the avalanche of emails and letters that came showering down upon me, the overwhelming majority of which were positive, grateful and supportive. They came from a cross-section of kind, empathetic and intelligent people, some of them working in fields dealing with gender dysphoria and trans people, who’re all deeply concerned about the way a socio-political concept is influencing politics, medical practice and safeguarding. They’re worried about the dangers to young people, gay people and about the erosion of women’s and girl’s rights. Above all, they’re worried about a climate of fear that serves nobody – least of all trans youth – well.

I’d stepped back from Twitter for many months both before and after tweeting support for Maya, because I knew it was doing nothing good for my mental health. I only returned because I wanted to share a free children’s book during the pandemic. Immediately, activists who clearly believe themselves to be good, kind and progressive people swarmed back into my timeline, assuming a right to police my speech, accuse me of hatred, call me misogynistic slurs and, above all – as every woman involved in this debate will know – TERF.

If you didn’t already know – and why should you? – ‘TERF’ is an acronym coined by trans activists, which stands for Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist. In practice, a huge and diverse cross-section of women are currently being called TERFs and the vast majority have never been radical feminists. Examples of so-called TERFs range from the mother of a gay child who was afraid their child wanted to transition to escape homophobic bullying, to a hitherto totally unfeminist older lady who’s vowed never to visit Marks & Spencer again because they’re allowing any man who says they identify as a woman into the women’s changing rooms. Ironically, radical feminists aren’t even trans-exclusionary – they include trans men in their feminism, because they were born women.

But accusations of TERFery have been sufficient to intimidate many people, institutions and organisations I once admired, who’re cowering before the tactics of the playground. ‘They’ll call us transphobic!’ ‘They’ll say I hate trans people!’ What next, they’ll say you’ve got fleas? Speaking as a biological woman, a lot of people in positions of power really need to grow a pair (which is doubtless literally possible, according to the kind of people who argue that clownfish prove humans aren’t a dimorphic species).

So why am I doing this? Why speak up? Why not quietly do my research and keep my head down?

Well, I’ve got five reasons for being worried about the new trans activism, and deciding I need to speak up.

Firstly, I have a charitable trust that focuses on alleviating social deprivation in Scotland, with a particular emphasis on women and children. Among other things, my trust supports projects for female prisoners and for survivors of domestic and sexual abuse. I also fund medical research into MS, a disease that behaves very differently in men and women. It’s been clear to me for a while that the new trans activism is having (or is likely to have, if all its demands are met) a significant impact on many of the causes I support, because it’s pushing to erode the legal definition of sex and replace it with gender.

The second reason is that I’m an ex-teacher and the founder of a children’s charity, which gives me an interest in both education and safeguarding. Like many others, I have deep concerns about the effect the trans rights movement is having on both.

The third is that, as a much-banned author, I’m interested in freedom of speech and have publicly defended it, even unto Donald Trump.

The fourth is where things start to get truly personal. I’m concerned about the huge explosion in young women wishing to transition and also about the increasing numbers who seem to be detransitioning (returning to their original sex), because they regret taking steps that have, in some cases, altered their bodies irrevocably, and taken away their fertility. Some say they decided to transition after realising they were same-sex attracted, and that transitioning was partly driven by homophobia, either in society or in their families.

Most people probably aren’t aware – I certainly wasn’t, until I started researching this issue properly – that ten years ago, the majority of people wanting to transition to the opposite sex were male. That ratio has now reversed. The UK has experienced a 4400% increase in girls being referred for transitioning treatment. Autistic girls are hugely overrepresented in their numbers.

The same phenomenon has been seen in the US. In 2018, American physician and researcher Lisa Littman set out to explore it. In an interview, she said:

‘Parents online were describing a very unusual pattern of transgender-identification where multiple friends and even entire friend groups became transgender-identified at the same time. I would have been remiss had I not considered social contagion and peer influences as potential factors.’

Littman mentioned Tumblr, Reddit, Instagram and YouTube as contributing factors to Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria, where she believes that in the realm of transgender identification ‘youth have created particularly insular echo chambers.’

Her paper caused a furore. She was accused of bias and of spreading misinformation about transgender people, subjected to a tsunami of abuse and a concerted campaign to discredit both her and her work. The journal took the paper offline and re-reviewed it before republishing it. However, her career took a similar hit to that suffered by Maya Forstater. Lisa Littman had dared challenge one of the central tenets of trans activism, which is that a person’s gender identity is innate, like sexual orientation. Nobody, the activists insisted, could ever be persuaded into being trans.

The argument of many current trans activists is that if you don’t let a gender dysphoric teenager transition, they will kill themselves. In an article explaining why he resigned from the Tavistock (an NHS gender clinic in England) psychiatrist Marcus Evans stated that claims that children will kill themselves if not permitted to transition do not ‘align substantially with any robust data or studies in this area. Nor do they align with the cases I have encountered over decades as a psychotherapist.’

The writings of young trans men reveal a group of notably sensitive and clever people. The more of their accounts of gender dysphoria I’ve read, with their insightful descriptions of anxiety, dissociation, eating disorders, self-harm and self-hatred, the more I’ve wondered whether, if I’d been born 30 years later, I too might have tried to transition. The allure of escaping womanhood would have been huge. I struggled with severe OCD as a teenager. If I’d found community and sympathy online that I couldn’t find in my immediate environment, I believe I could have been persuaded to turn myself into the son my father had openly said he’d have preferred.

When I read about the theory of gender identity, I remember how mentally sexless I felt in youth. I remember Colette’s description of herself as a ‘mental hermaphrodite’ and Simone de Beauvoir’s words: ‘It is perfectly natural for the future woman to feel indignant at the limitations posed upon her by her sex. The real question is not why she should reject them: the problem is rather to understand why she accepts them.’

As I didn’t have a realistic possibility of becoming a man back in the 1980s, it had to be books and music that got me through both my mental health issues and the sexualised scrutiny and judgement that sets so many girls to war against their bodies in their teens. Fortunately for me, I found my own sense of otherness, and my ambivalence about being a woman, reflected in the work of female writers and musicians who reassured me that, in spite of everything a sexist world tries to throw at the female-bodied, it’s fine not to feel pink, frilly and compliant inside your own head; it’s OK to feel confused, dark, both sexual and non-sexual, unsure of what or who you are.

I want to be very clear here: I know transition will be a solution for some gender dysphoric people, although I’m also aware through extensive research that studies have consistently shown that between 60-90% of gender dysphoric teens will grow out of their dysphoria. Again and again I’ve been told to ‘just meet some trans people.’ I have: in addition to a few younger people, who were all adorable, I happen to know a self-described transsexual woman who’s older than I am and wonderful. Although she’s open about her past as a gay man, I’ve always found it hard to think of her as anything other than a woman, and I believe (and certainly hope) she’s completely happy to have transitioned. Being older, though, she went through a long and rigorous process of evaluation, psychotherapy and staged transformation. The current explosion of trans activism is urging a removal of almost all the robust systems through which candidates for sex reassignment were once required to pass. A man who intends to have no surgery and take no hormones may now secure himself a Gender Recognition Certificate and be a woman in the sight of the law. Many people aren’t aware of this.

We’re living through the most misogynistic period I’ve experienced. Back in the 80s, I imagined that my future daughters, should I have any, would have it far better than I ever did, but between the backlash against feminism and a porn-saturated online culture, I believe things have got significantly worse for girls. Never have I seen women denigrated and dehumanised to the extent they are now. From the leader of the free world’s long history of sexual assault accusations and his proud boast of ‘grabbing them by the pussy’, to the incel (‘involuntarily celibate’) movement that rages against women who won’t give them sex, to the trans activists who declare that TERFs need punching and re-educating, men across the political spectrum seem to agree: women are asking for trouble. Everywhere, women are being told to shut up and sit down, or else.

I’ve read all the arguments about femaleness not residing in the sexed body, and the assertions that biological women don’t have common experiences, and I find them, too, deeply misogynistic and regressive. It’s also clear that one of the objectives of denying the importance of sex is to erode what some seem to see as the cruelly segregationist idea of women having their own biological realities or – just as threatening – unifying realities that make them a cohesive political class. The hundreds of emails I’ve received in the last few days prove this erosion concerns many others just as much. It isn’t enough for women to be trans allies. Women must accept and admit that there is no material difference between trans women and themselves.

But, as many women have said before me, ‘woman’ is not a costume. ‘Woman’ is not an idea in a man’s head. ‘Woman’ is not a pink brain, a liking for Jimmy Choos or any of the other sexist ideas now somehow touted as progressive. Moreover, the ‘inclusive’ language that calls female people ‘menstruators’ and ‘people with vulvas’ strikes many women as dehumanising and demeaning. I understand why trans activists consider this language to be appropriate and kind, but for those of us who’ve had degrading slurs spat at us by violent men, it’s not neutral, it’s hostile and alienating.

Which brings me to the fifth reason I’m deeply concerned about the consequences of the current trans activism.

I’ve been in the public eye now for over twenty years and have never talked publicly about being a domestic abuse and sexual assault survivor. This isn’t because I’m ashamed those things happened to me, but because they’re traumatic to revisit and remember. I also feel protective of my daughter from my first marriage. I didn’t want to claim sole ownership of a story that belongs to her, too. However, a short while ago, I asked her how she’d feel if I were publicly honest about that part of my life, and she encouraged me to go ahead.

I’m mentioning these things now not in an attempt to garner sympathy, but out of solidarity with the huge numbers of women who have histories like mine, who’ve been slurred as bigots for having concerns around single-sex spaces.

I managed to escape my first violent marriage with some difficulty, but I’m now married to a truly good and principled man, safe and secure in ways I never in a million years expected to be. However, the scars left by violence and sexual assault don’t disappear, no matter how loved you are, and no matter how much money you’ve made. My perennial jumpiness is a family joke – and even I know it’s funny – but I pray my daughters never have the same reasons I do for hating sudden loud noises, or finding people behind me when I haven’t heard them approaching.

If you could come inside my head and understand what I feel when I read about a trans woman dying at the hands of a violent man, you’d find solidarity and kinship. I have a visceral sense of the terror in which those trans women will have spent their last seconds on earth, because I too have known moments of blind fear when I realised that the only thing keeping me alive was the shaky self-restraint of my attacker.

I believe the majority of trans-identified people not only pose zero threat to others, but are vulnerable for all the reasons I’ve outlined. Trans people need and deserve protection. Like women, they’re most likely to be killed by sexual partners. Trans women who work in the sex industry, particularly trans women of colour, are at particular risk. Like every other domestic abuse and sexual assault survivor I know, I feel nothing but empathy and solidarity with trans women who’ve been abused by men.

So I want trans women to be safe. At the same time, I do not want to make natal girls and women less safe. When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman – and, as I’ve said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones – then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside. That is the simple truth.

On Saturday morning, I read that the Scottish government is proceeding with its controversial gender recognition plans, which will in effect mean that all a man needs to ‘become a woman’ is to say he’s one. To use a very contemporary word, I was ‘triggered’. Ground down by the relentless attacks from trans activists on social media, when I was only there to give children feedback about pictures they’d drawn for my book under lockdown, I spent much of Saturday in a very dark place inside my head, as memories of a serious sexual assault I suffered in my twenties recurred on a loop. That assault happened at a time and in a space where I was vulnerable, and a man capitalised on an opportunity. I couldn’t shut out those memories and I was finding it hard to contain my anger and disappointment about the way I believe my government is playing fast and loose with womens and girls’ safety.

Late on Saturday evening, scrolling through children’s pictures before I went to bed, I forgot the first rule of Twitter – never, ever expect a nuanced conversation – and reacted to what I felt was degrading language about women. I spoke up about the importance of sex and have been paying the price ever since. I was transphobic, I was a cunt, a bitch, a TERF, I deserved cancelling, punching and death. You are Voldemort said one person, clearly feeling this was the only language I’d understand.

It would be so much easier to tweet the approved hashtags – because of course trans rights are human rights and of course trans lives matter – scoop up the woke cookies and bask in a virtue-signalling afterglow. There’s joy, relief and safety in conformity. As Simone de Beauvoir also wrote, “… without a doubt it is more comfortable to endure blind bondage than to work for one’s liberation; the dead, too, are better suited to the earth than the living.”

Huge numbers of women are justifiably terrified by the trans activists; I know this because so many have got in touch with me to tell their stories. They’re afraid of doxxing, of losing their jobs or their livelihoods, and of violence.

But endlessly unpleasant as its constant targeting of me has been, I refuse to bow down to a movement that I believe is doing demonstrable harm in seeking to erode ‘woman’ as a political and biological class and offering cover to predators like few before it. I stand alongside the brave women and men, gay, straight and trans, who’re standing up for freedom of speech and thought, and for the rights and safety of some of the most vulnerable in our society: young gay kids, fragile teenagers, and women who’re reliant on and wish to retain their single sex spaces. Polls show those women are in the vast majority, and exclude only those privileged or lucky enough never to have come up against male violence or sexual assault, and who’ve never troubled to educate themselves on how prevalent it is.

The one thing that gives me hope is that the women who can protest and organise, are doing so, and they have some truly decent men and trans people alongside them. Political parties seeking to appease the loudest voices in this debate are ignoring women’s concerns at their peril. In the UK, women are reaching out to each other across party lines, concerned about the erosion of their hard-won rights and widespread intimidation. None of the gender critical women I’ve talked to hates trans people; on the contrary. Many of them became interested in this issue in the first place out of concern for trans youth, and they’re hugely sympathetic towards trans adults who simply want to live their lives, but who’re facing a backlash for a brand of activism they don’t endorse. The supreme irony is that the attempt to silence women with the word ‘TERF’ may have pushed more young women towards radical feminism than the movement’s seen in decades.

The last thing I want to say is this. I haven’t written this essay in the hope that anybody will get out a violin for me, not even a teeny-weeny one. I’m extraordinarily fortunate; I’m a survivor, certainly not a victim. I’ve only mentioned my past because, like every other human being on this planet, I have a complex backstory, which shapes my fears, my interests and my opinions. I never forget that inner complexity when I’m creating a fictional character and I certainly never forget it when it comes to trans people.

All I’m asking – all I want – is for similar empathy, similar understanding, to be extended to the many millions of women whose sole crime is wanting their concerns to be heard without receiving threats and abuse.

#Jk Rowling #Jkr #Transgender #Terf #Gender critical #Radfem

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bymoonchild · 5 years

Text

Get You The Moon (M)

Pairing | Taehyung x Reader Genre | Fluff, smut, angst / College!AU, enemies to lovers!AU, football!AU, jock!Taehyung x student reporter!OC Warnings | Explicit language, sarcastic banter, dirty talk, blowjob, facefucking, eating out, cumplay, cum-dumpster, fingering, rough sex, slight dom!tae, spanking, degradation, unprotected sex, ass-pining, tae has the phattest ass and dick but wbk Summary | Life has its ways of fucking with you, but you know you’ve hit 50 feet below rock bottom after being tasked to do a profile feature on Kim Taehyung, the varsity football captain, for your school newspaper. Pure torment awaits you, but this is alongside glassy eyes, pink cheeks and conflicted feelings that you’ve never dared to imagine with the likes of the devil incarnate. Word count | 19.6k

“What a surprise, you’re alive.”

It is exactly that fake enthusiasm and subtle mirthful nuance that’s too familiar to your liking that gives rise to the arch of your eyebrow. You don’t even need to look up at the owner of the voice to picture the shit-eating smirk that belongs to none other than your editor-in-chief-slash-best-friend, Min Yoongi. Such morbid greetings have been long established as an inside joke between the two of you due to the peculiar sense of humour that you two share.

This is just how he likes to start his mornings. Being the systematic person he is, he has his own morning routine in the newsroom. Regardless of the pile of work on his desk, he’ll first make a beeline for his first cup of coffee of the day, after which he will come sauntering your way to provoke you with his laundry list of snarky remarks – about work, being tired, being alive and dead, about how bureaucracy sucks, the negative sides of capitalism and what not. Well, you two share a deep-seated sense of misanthropy so albeit provocative, his laments are refreshing in the morning – a literal morning boost of positivity from negativity.

“Not for long buddy,” you shrug, looking up from your laptop and your eyes land on Yoongi, who looks just as dead.

“I barely slept last night – was busy rushing my essays. Essays, might I repeat. So it would be great if you don’t have much for me today, although I know you have a kink for torturing me.”

At this, the edges of his lips curl up and you instantly register the meaning behind the sinister smile: your impending doom.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I do have something for my most talented and gung-ho reporter and best friend.”

“Kindly elaborate,” you smile back acrimoniously, squinting your eyes in distrust.

“It involves a profile feature of a popular varsity athlete.”

An involuntary groan escapes your lips almost instantly. Athletes are the worst people to interview.

“That’s not even the worst part yet. As we’re celebrating the 50th anniversary of our publication this year, we’ll be doing a special spread on honorary members of the school, including club presidents, captains and valedictorians. Oh, which reminds me – maybe I should feature myself for being the most overworked Editor-In-Chief because this publication is sucking my entire soul, but anyway, I digress.”

He brings up his mug to his lips. It’s only 10am, but you wonder how many cups he has had, eyeing the pallor of his face.

“I’ve already assigned the other reporters their respective targets for the lack of a better word, and left the toughest nut for you to crack,” he grins smugly and that’s when it hits you.

Clocking you square in the face.

“Yoongi, no you didn—”

“Yoongi, yes,” his smirk widens at your aghast expression, “A profile feature on Kim Taehyung, for my most talented and hardworking reporter.”

Kim Taehyung.

Your biggest nemesis.

The boy who lives to torment you.

Literally everyone in school and their mother (or their dog) knows him because 1) he’s quite a looker (he’s known for having a god damn symmetrical face and you’re honestly baffled and amazed at how people even took the time to check the degree of symmetry), 2) he’s the captain of the varsity football team (cue the huge hoo-ha about varsity captains), 3) he’s probably slept with everyone in school and their mother (okay, that’s an exaggeration, but he is a dumb fuckboy to the bone), and 4) he’s also the poster boy for the department of narcissistic and annoying fuckboys, star football player and all that jazz.

“What the fuck?”

You challenge the carefully hidden astonishment reflected in Yoongi’s eyes, disregarding how the other reporters in the newsroom have jumped in their seats at your abrupt outburst.

“You know I fucking hate him!”

Yoongi, per contra, does absolutely nothing to show the slightest of empathy, simply because he has none, and even finds the scowl on your face hilarious, “Which is exactly why you’re the perfect person for this story.”

“There must be someone else whom I can cover. Please, Yoongi – I really, really don’t want to take this up.”

“Listen,” he sighs, running his hand through his fingers and you know that signifies that his sigh is genuine, “As your friend, I’m really sorry that you’ve been assigned to this story, but there’s no one more suitable than you. No one does profiles as incredible as you. Look, you just need to follow him around for a week – observe how he is in class, what he does after class and how he performs on the field. I can promise that it won’t be that bad.”

You frown, “As my friend? Then… what about–”

You don’t miss the 180 change from his previous expression, the soft in his comforting smile replaced with a sneer that is all malign in a blink of an eye.

Panic starts to form a thick film in your throat.

Lowering his voice by two tones, he snarls, “As your Editor-In-Chief, I only have three words for you: suck it up. The journalism world is a dog-eat-dog world. You don’t and can’t choose your beats. What you can do is to go out there and come back with a story, or this newspaper is going to flop at your hands, along with your GPA.”

Such audacity.

You glare at him in disbelief, squinting your eyes at the sneer that’s still plastered on his face.

“As my friend,” you mimic, dragging each word, “Fuck you bitch.”

Sighing out loud with absolute disregard, you clench your fists to tamper down the vexation that threatens to escape your throat, “But for the sake of my GPA and this publication that is my precious baby, I’ll take this up. Very unwillingly though, I must add. But if he refuses to cooperate, he can suck my ass.”

“You have my seal of approval if you meant that literally.”

“Fuck off—”

“Anyways, you won’t need to worry about Tae. I contacted him just now – he’ll be expecting you at practice on Monday.”

You roll your eyes, “Tae? I can never understand how you two are close.”

He inches closer to taunt you further, “May I remind you that Tae and I literally grew up together in Daegu, so he’s like my little bro. Anyways, he also told me to tell you that he cannot wait to see you.”

Nose scrunched up in disgust, you groan out loud at the duality before you, before flipping your friend off and burying your head in your palms.

But as much as you hate to admit it, Yoongi’s right. You have to suck it up.

If doing this profile is the only way to save your GPA and the publication, to hell with your pride and Kim Taehyung. You’re going to do this story well and you’re going to make sure that nothing, absolutely nothing – including Kim Taehyung and his fuckboy antics – is going to fuck that up.

Not in this economy.

Building up to Monday aka the Big Day as what Yoongi calls it, while you refer to it as the Day You Die), Yoongi has left you very specific instructions for the profile feature, expecting you to find some easy way out of this. He normally leaves you on your own, knowing that you’d always return with a solid piece that he won’t be able to find anything to nit-pick on. But for this task, he has ordered you to follow the boy around for a whole damn week and expects you to submit your voice recordings for accurate transcription.

Right from the get-go, you can already deem this profile to be the most stressful and frustrating piece in your entire journalism career. In other words, it’s a sham. A popularity stunt. A hoax. An opportunity to give Kim Taehyung even more clout and undeserving commendation than what the resident fuckboy deserves.

The day you finish your story will the best day of your life because you won’t ever need to interact with the said boy ever again.

To say that you hate him would be an understatement – sure, hate is a strong emotion, yadda yadda yadda, but the cacophony of arrogance and smugness that radiates off him makes your face scrunch up in disdain whenever he’s around. Though you would never allow him to have such power over you, he has tormented you countless of times with his shameless flirting whenever he has the chance to, and by simply existing and being his annoying, putrid self. You really don’t know why Taehyung has taken a liking to teasing you and pushing your buttons, ever since Yoongi introduced the two of you two years ago.

The sun is dripping down on the soccer field with delicacy, casting its golden light on the grass patch when Coach blows the whistle from the sidelines. Right in the heart of the field, Number 6 springs into action on the field, shouting commands at his teammates who listen to him intently.

Indeed, there are many other guys running all over the field, decked in the same jersey, but you could instantly recognise the outline of Taehyung’s ass, your eyes fixated on how the fabric of his shorts hugs his lower half like a second skin. Much to your dismay, one of your thirsty friends had hooked up with Taehyung last Christmas and didn’t allow you to forget the details of his bomb dick game and the thickness of his ass, so it’s fair to say that you have a good gauge of how his ass looks like. Not that you take pride in that knowledge though.

A smug smirk plays on his lips when he scores another goal as he instinctively pumps his fist to the air. You observe how he proceeds to run around the field, high-fiving and patting his teammates to spur them on.

Being the captain of the precious varsity football team, Kim Taehyung naturally carries an aura of confidence, which easily moulds into palpable cockiness. He’s infuriatingly talented and thus, his big ego sadly, and he also doesn’t have much of a filter and says anything that comes to mind. You’ve come to a conclusion that his language is an unfortunate concatenation of sexual jokes, sarcastic taunts and indolent mischief.

As if having sensed your gaze, he cranes his neck in the midst of practice and shoots you a seemingly innocent grin when he spots you standing awkwardly at the sidelines, hugging your notebook like they’re a piece of armour shield. But you know that there is more to his smile than just innocence. Still maintaining eye contact with you, he grabs the hem of his shirt to dry the sweat on his forehead and smirks in satisfaction when your face drops disgruntledly.

After calling for a five, he jogs up to you, his smile unwavering. Behind him, his teammates have all huddled together, pretending to drink up and talk amongst each other, but their eyes are all glued on the interaction between you and their captain.

“My my, look who we have here. Isn’t it my favourite girl cheering me on during practice?”

Taehyung’s awful voice pierces your eardrums, thick with honey and mixed with some other cloyingly sweet substances.

Your annoyance reaches its peak level as your eyes narrow to slits when he stops right in front of you.

You could leave right this instance. In fact, you very much want to, but your conscience is holding you back. While you’ve contemplated smoking your way for the profile one too many times, you know that Yoongi, being the smart shit he is, would be able to see through it (and also, Taehyung might just snitch on you) and the mere thought of a disappointed Yoongi just bites you.

“Look,” you spit, facing him properly for the first time, “I’m here against my own will because I have a story to write and that’s the only reason why I am even here. So I would very much appreciate it if you could quit acting like a jerk and let me do my job so I can leave ASAP.”

You’ve never been this up-close with Taehyung before, not when all you ever focus on around him is putting on your bitchiest expression, coming up with spiteful retorts, or pretending that you didn’t see him in the hallway which is actually impossible because he comes for you like a plague.

“Sssh, did you hear that?”

“Huh—”

“That’s the sound of you begging for my help.”

A taunting smirk inches its way onto the edges of Taehyung’s lips and you want to sock him in the face and wipe it off his lips. Your glare seems to only spur it to grow wider, as if somehow your clear distaste for him is amusing to him.

“Going to fake a quote for me again?” He continues, the shit-eating grin never leaving his face.

“If you continue pissing me off, I just might.”

For your previous article which involved having to interact with Taehyung, he had refused to answer your questions properly, spouting nonsense and idiotic pickup lines that served of no value to your article. You just needed a one-liner from the egotistical football captain, but all he did was obliterate your gossamer thin patience and last few braincells. Given his insistent reluctance to cooperate, you eventually made up a quote for him – something along the lines of “I don’t really think much about life – I just YOLO it because you know, YOLO” – and made sure that it reflected him badly.

The quote eventually became the unofficial quote of the year and it gives you so much satisfaction, knowing that it made a small dent on Taehyung’s reputation. On bad days, you’d think of the fake quote and laugh to yourself. Needless to say, he was enraged and even sent complaint emails to Yoongi for false reporting. Journalism ethics? You don’t know her.

“Oh yes, where were we?” He draws out each word with a smooth tone, unfazed, “We were talking about how I hold your fate in the palm of my hands, Princess.”

You hate that nickname he has for you. You don’t even remember when and how it started or what led to the nickname. Grunting out loud in abhorrence, you stop to contemplate kicking him in the shin and running away, but you lack the courage to carry out the former because if you’re to ever hurt the precious varsity captain, you can jolly well bid farewell to your collegiate life.

But before you can even take a step away, he stops you by blocking your passage with an even wider smirk. If he is fucking ecstatic at your rage, he’s determined on making sure that you’re well aware of it.

“Seriously, if you don’t want to do this, let me know right now so we don’t waste each other’s time.”

“Oh Y/N,” he calls out dramatically and you cringe at how your name rolls off his tongue, “I did promise Yoongi-hyung about that profile, but I didn’t promise him that I won’t make your life a living hell.”

If it’s possible for your eyeballs to roll out of the socket, you’re pretty sure it would have already happened by now because Kim Taehyung is impossible.

“Okay,” you exhale, gathering your thoughts, “Then I will, for the better of mankind, start this civilly. But let me just say that I’ll take the mantle of being the bigger person here, which isn’t hard because you’re technically not a person.”

“Of course, I’m more than just a person,” he laughs and a devilish smirk, way too familiar against your own will, tugs at his lips, “I’m Kim Taehyung.”

“Did I ask? Can we just get this over and done with so that I can stop being around your despicable presence, stat.”

“Now, that’s not the way to treat your interviewee. Also, Yoongi said you’ll be following me around for a week. You’ll be around my ‘despicable presence’,” he holds up his fingers in the air to quote, “For an entire week. You think up for it, babe?”

He waggles his eyebrows with a mischievous glint blazing in his eyes, enjoying the scowl on your face.

“Fuck off, Kim.”

His eyes light up when he realises that he’s hit a nerve.

“Every breath you draw in my presence annoys the heck of me,” you edge, words slowing down to a pace that’s normally used on children.

His large, almond eyes continue to regard you with keen interest.

“That’s funny. I thought that after all this while, you would be used to me scoring right into your goal.”

“Get your head out your ass.”

“Oh, I’ll have you know that I have a bomb ass. 10 out of 10 would tap.”

He laughs with an amused grin on his face, the same one he always has whenever he riles you up, finding entertainment in your fury. You hate his laughter. He’s always laughing, his smile huge and genuine and his out of this world personality knocking girls off-kilter. You hate it. Everything about it.

“What the fuck,” you spit scathingly, mouth agape in utter disbelief at the boy in front of you, or Satan himself wearing the flesh of a human.

You end up only asking two questions from your entire list of 15 questions, but it’s as though you’re stuck at square one because his answers are either half-assed or pure nonsense, and boy are you pissed.

“Hey, you’re alive.”

You look up from your misery and see the very cause of the said misery, standing at the door with an eyebrow raised. You don’t miss the extra sarcastic bite to his voice and the irritating smirk on his face, but you’d like to believe that he’s actually impressed by your unyielding resilience.

“Highly arguable. Mentally, no, but physically, yes I am. Not for long though,” you grunt, tone imbued in sarcasm because you are seriously done with this profile feature and you can’t wait for this torture to end.

Lifting your tumbler, you suck on the dregs of your coffee and groan louder at how it’s no longer hot. Lukewarm coffee is like torture to the tongue, much more than burning your tongue. You’re one of the annoying customers who would request for extra hot coffee, because you simply can, and you’re used to them faking a smile and then rolling their eyes when they’ve turned on their backs.

“I take it that something happened?”

“Oh nothing,” you shoot him a sarcastic grin, “Except for the fact that the bastard just toyed with me and wasted my Monday evening. If this is how it’s going to be, I say that we stop immediately.”

“Oh come on, it’s just the first day! I get that Tae can be playful and says a lot of stupid things, but he’s actually a really nice dude.”

“I just don’t like him,” you mumble and your voice trails off upon realising that you sound like a bratty preschool kid who can’t get along with the others.

Yoongi scoffs at your remark to correct you, “You don’t like anybody.”

“As if you’re not the most misanthropic person I know.”

“Wow, this ain’t about me,” Yoongi throws his hands up in the air in faux-defeat, “This is about you and Taehyung. Can you at least tell me why you hate his guts?”

The empty remark that brews on the tip of your tongue dies instantly and all you can lamely mutter is, “Over my dead body.”

“Seriously? Why?”

“Because I’m embarrassed.”

“Wait, what? Did you embarrass yourself in front of him?” Yoongi urges with a confused frown, but your lips are still sealed.

“Something like that.”

“Would you be so kind as to elaborate on that?”

“Nope, continue suffering.”

He rolls his eyes in disbelief, before flipping you the bird.

The next two mornings, you find yourself dragging yourself across the campus and past the newsroom, just to show up at the football field. Upon your arrival, the entire team ditches their warmup session and falls into a collective silence, openly gawking at you and your every movement. The sudden change in the atmosphere elicits an uncomfortable shiver to crawl up your spine. Looks like your social anxiety is about to have a field day.

“Captain, you have a visitor!”

One of the boys hollers with a playful glint in his voice, breaking the silence. At that, some teammates instantly gather in their own circles to whisper to one another, while some discuss your presence without bothering to be discrete. Is this… a jock version of Mean Girls?

“Tae! Your girl is here again!” Another dude shouts and you turn around to shoot a glare at the owner of the voice, eyebrows furrowed.

“Call me his girl one more time and I’ll make sure your legs won’t make it to finals.”

“Damn, a feisty babe. Noice.”

Another guy comes up to you – Jungkook, you recognise him because he’s in one of your classes. His build towers over you, while he flashes you a small, shy smile and you can’t deny that he is pretty cute with his dimples and doe eyes, which makes him look like a little bunny, but all hope is irrevocably lost when he opens his mouth.

“Hey, I think I lost my number. Can I get yours?”

“Seriously?”

The earlier guy who calls you feisty butts in, “If Taehyung isn’t fucking you right, call me yeah? I’ll make you feel real goo—”

“Minjae, leave her alone.”

You hear a displeased grunt from behind you and turn around to an annoyed Taehyung. His grip on the football in his hand tightens, before he shoves it roughly at Minjae, throwing his teammate off completely.

“Guys, please leave Y/N alone. She’s here to interview me, so I’d appreciate it if you could keep it in your pants and have some decency or respect for yourself.”

The boys instantly mutter a sorry, the peculiar sharp undercurrent of their captain’s voice has them heaving themselves upright in alarm.

You turn your head slightly to look at Taehyung, who’s wearing a vexed frown on his face – well that’s a first for someone who is joking around and laughing. Seeing his strong side profile irks the fuck out of you because someone this attractive shouldn’t be such a big nuisance. What an unfortunate waste. Of course, you would rather be impaled than admit this.

“If you don’t go back to warmups, you’re getting another 5 more laps around the field!” He raises his voice to the entire team and they scramble back to their warmup positions like ants.

After making sure that the team is back on the grind, he spares you another look and leads you to an empty bench away from the warmup area.

“Pretty sure you could have handled it yourself, but you looked uncomfortable,” he smiles apologetically, resting his hand on the back of his neck.

“Well, if you didn’t make me wait, I wouldn’t have needed to go through that.”

“I was helping this freshman who needed extra help with his dribbling. It’s a one-on-one thing so we were in the clubroom.”

“Whatever, it’s cool.”

“Anyways… I got an earful from Yoongi-hyung this morning. He said that I was being too annoying yesterday, so yeah, sorry about that…” His voice trails off and for once, the smile playing on his lips is sheepish, instead of a cocky one.

“Huh?”

“I said I’m sorry. And also for my teammates’ behaviour. Don’t know why they act like this every time they see a girl on the field.”

“D-Did you just apologise to me? Is everything okay, like you know, with your brain?”

“What?” He scoffs, but the smile on his face still remains, “I’m not an asshole. I will apologise if I crossed the line.”

“Kim, not to burst your bubble, but you’ve crossed the line with your annoying and rude ass self since the beginning of time.”

And there it is again. That little grin tugging softly at his lips as his eyes lock themselves on yours.

“Not going to lie, that’s part of my charm.”

You hastily ignore the stirrings of intrigue in your chest, deciding to stop with the chit-chat, “Yeah sure. Let’s just start with the interview. I’ve got a class in an hour.”

He extends an arm to gesture you to sit down on the bench, while he settles down beside you and leans back in an elegant slouch, one ankle crossed over a knee.

“So, let’s talk about the freshmen players this year. Anyone potential successors yet? Do you have a lot of one-on-one trainings?”

“Wow, we playing 20 questions now?”

“Kim,” you sigh loudly with every intention of making sure that he knows how done you are, “I’m literally here to interview you. If I don’t ask questions, then what’s the point.”

“I was just kidding!” He throws his head back with a chuckle, “All right, shoot me with your best shot.”

“Okay,” you clear your throat, “You’re called the dark horse of the school. How do you feel about that?

“Do you like horses?”

“What?”

“Bet you’ll like mine.”

You cup your face in your palm, as your heaving suspire lowers into an interminable groan, “Kim Taehyung. Before I—”

“Hmmm, so a dark horse…” he begins slowly, “I think it’s a respectable and fulfilling title. It’s when you amaze them with how unexpectedly good you are. It’s about really proving your competence to everyone who didn’t think highly of you before, so I’ll take it with pride and satisfaction.”

You nod your head as he speaks and when he finishes his sentence, you ask with a raised eyebrow, “Practiced that much?”

“Every day before I go to bed.”

“Clearly.”

“Well, I can show you first-hand.”

“You fucking wish.”

Thankfully, Taehyung gradually stops playing around and actually starts answering your questions properly without giving bullshit answers or making suggestive remarks.

At your last question about his legacy in school, he even elaborates without any prompters and you gratefully take everything down, nodding once in a while when he brings up a good point.

“Wow, you’re writing all these down while I’m talking? Can I see?”

You casually hand him your notebook and he gapes dramatically at the notes you’ve taken.

“These are just scribbles, but they’ll help with transcribing later on.”

“Wow I have to say, I’m impressed and also a little turned on right now.”

Rolling your eyes for the nth time in disbelief, you grunt, “Kim, you do know that you’re still being recorded, right?”

“Of course,” he smirks, raising instant flags for mischief etched across his lips, “Here’s a little note for Y/N who will listen to this when she gets home – I think she’s hot as fuck.”

“You’re shameless.”

Laughter bellows from his lungs, “That I am. I’m not going to deny it.”

Afterwards, he offers to take you for a tour around the clubroom, showing you the medals and trophies that the team has snagged over the years. As he elaborates on the trajectory of the varsity team, the noisy chatter of other students outside fades into background noise like timing in your ears.

He shows you a picture of the team taken from two years ago and your eyes nearly pop out at how small and out of place freshman Taehyung looks. He’s grinning widely at the camera, surrounded by his poker-faced burly seniors, painfully sticking out like a sore tongue, even more so with his scrawny build.

“You look way too happy in the picture that I actually have second-hand embarrassment,” you mutter, but Taehyung manages to catch it.

“Hey! I was an excited freshie and they didn’t tell me it was a formal picture.”

When you leave the clubroom that day, you take along with you new knowledge about Kim Taehyung. Firstly, you learn that he has only been playing football for two years, which comes off as a shock and almost a form of embarrassment when compared to the other guys with at least a decade of football experience, thus deserving the title of a dark horse. He’s always been more of an arts dude, but he got sucked into the sport when he and his best friend from high school Jimin walked past the football tryouts during orientation.

Secondly, either his cologne or shampoo has a fruity undertone and this is derived from the fact that he is suddenly standing so close to you that you can feel the warmth of his breath and see each glimmer of darkness that surfaces in his orbs, alongside the humming warmth radiating off of his body.

A chill runs down your spine and your heart starts slamming against your chest out of nowhere at the proximity. You’re not used to being so physically close to him and you try not to think about how his alluring scent has you biting the inside of your cheek.

Taehyung seems to know his effect on you because his lips start to spread into a wolfish grin, inching closer to you.

“Your fuckboy antics won’t work on me, Kim.”

Your voice doesn’t come off as strong as you wanted it to, but you hope that he doesn’t catch on.

“You sure about that, princess?” His breath fans out across your cheeks when he speaks, causing instant warmth to scatter over your skin in the rise of gooseflesh.

Irritation bubbles like a brook throughout your entire body.

It’s taking every single willpower of yours not to headbutt him in the face. You desperately want to, but because you’re obviously the bigger person here and you need to prevent yourself from being expelled from school, you could only jab your finger harshly at his chest.

“Try it on another chick, yeah?”

He uncoils from his slouch and rises to his full height, exuding a smug superiority.

“What if you’re the only one I want to try it on?” He teases, his voice echoing with timber, rich and velvet.

You shoot him a leer, accompanied with the imaginary daggers to his face, trying to ignore the steadfast flutter in your belly. By the anger that undulates from your pinched features, he knows he’s left you tongue-tied, and this only spurs his grin to widen, your clear distaste for him a pure entertainment and amusement to him.

“I hate you.”

You grit, but your voice comes out as a mere squeak. You feel like burying yourself from the weight of his longing gaze. Clearing your throat, you push the strange flutter that’s settling in your belly as you hoist your bag over your shoulder and speed-walk away from him, missing the way he smiles at your departing silhouette.

The shift in Taehyung’s demeanour on the field is beyond commendable, almost palpable to everyone who has their eyes on him. When he’s on the field, there is no fooling around, only the giving of his one hundred and one percent to the game.

Moving agilely with astounding precision, you observe how his sun-kissed skin shimmers with a thin sheen of sweat on his neck, while his eyes sparkle with intensity.

All right. There is some truth that Taehyung looks kind of cool (do people still use that word to describe someone?) and charismatic like this, all serious and immersed in the game. You just wonder if he could be the same when answering your questions.

His brown mop of tousled locks is damp, parted haphazardly, while his jersey clings onto his frame, drenched with perspiration. His biceps strain against the fabric and the veins on his exposed forearms are given prominence when he grabs onto the ball with his fingers effortlessly. Taehyung’s not the buffest, but he is lean with just a nice amount of toned muscles.

When your eyes trail further south for an infinitesimal moment, his tight football pants accentuating the swell of his thighs and the curve of his ass on full display come into view.

Fuck. Your eyes divert back up to his face when you realise what you’ve been gawking at. As the sun hikes up in the sky, it casts a pretty golden glow on his profile, highlighting his sun-kissed skin. You push away the sensation of a small bud blooming in your chest when you meet his gaze, especially when he shoots you his signature boyish smile, a foil to your frown.

Well, looks like someone is happy to see you.

A disconcerting feeling starts to stir in the pit of your stomach when Taehyung approaches you without wiping that smile off his face.

“Good job for surviving two and a half days with me. You ready for today?”

“Replying yes or no literally won’t make a difference at all.”

Shrugging, you lift your tumbler to sip on your coffee before pulling a face.

“Fuck,” you curse quietly under your breath, unexpecting Taehyung to catch it but he does.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing… My coffee isn’t hot anymore.”

“Oh—”

“I bought this tumbler not long ago and it’s supposed to be good at trapping heat, but it just sucks and it was kind of expensive? I’m so angry I need to get another one—”

You stop your rant abruptly when you realise that Taehyung’s been staring at you quietly. He even urges you to continue with a nod of his head.

“Sorry, I’m oversharing.”

It’s not your fault that you tend to get too passionate when talking about your distaste for lukewarm coffee. For something that’s your bloodline, it has to be the right temperature, or else.

“Is that your pet peeve?”

You nod, “You can’t judge me though, or I’ll punch you.”

“It’s cool. If your greatest nemesis is lukewarm coffee—”

“Wrong. My greatest nemesis is the boy who’s currently talking to me right now.”

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” he rolls his eyes in faux-annoyance, “I absolutely detest coffee, big ass pills that I can’t swallow, and bread crusts.”

“Wait,” you stare at him pointedly in a cursory silence. “You don’t like coffee?”

“Nah, never liked the bitter taste.”

“Okay…” You drag your word out, “But you can just add sugar? Not that I do, I like it bitter. But please elaborate on the big ass pills and bread crusts. For a big boy like you, I have to say that this is pretty amusing.”

Laughter rises in Taehyung’s lungs at the pure confusion on your face, “I can’t swallow pills. Used to always puke them out. I usually crush them and yes, I know it tastes even worse but really, how else can I take my medicine? And bread crusts? Incardinate of evil. I’m really picky when it comes to bread.”

You can’t help but laugh at his dramatic expression. You don’t think you’ve ever had a proper chat with Taehyung that didn’t include insults, remarks, or retorts of any kind.

“You’re one weird boy, Kim.”

The conversation carries on smoothly, tucking itself into every available space, and you’ve got to admit that not only is Taehyung not bad at holding a conversation, he’s also a decent listener and listens quietly when necessary. This really piques your curiosity – maybe Yoongi’s right about him, maybe there is indeed a decent side to him. You’re just not sure why Taehyung loves to push your buttons. It’s as if he wants you to give him the time of day.

From your periphery, you realise that Taehyung’s looking straight at you and you freeze at the weight of his piercing gaze, feeling hot all of a sudden. A stunned silence encompasses the space between you, sitting heavily in your lungs.

After mustering up some courage, you look up to meet his eyes to reciprocate his actions, but your gaze diverts to the ground when you realise that his eyes are piercing right into your soul, like they’re searching or yearning for something.

“Kim,” you clear your throat awkwardly, “What are you doing?”

“Looking at you,” he replies matter-of-factly, his intense gaze never leaving your face. You want to bury yourself alive when you feel a persistent heat simmering under your skin, tinging your cheeks a translucent pink.

“And may I know why?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The right corner of his lips curls up into a smirk. He’s raising a challenge.

“Spit it out.”

“Do I say the truth or?”

“Not that bold after all, huh?”

“Well,” he opens his mouth again with a devious little gleam in his eyes, “I was thinking about kissing you.”

You don’t miss how he is openly gawking at your lips and your eyes instinctively rest on his as well, which are somewhere between the colour of peaches and cherries. You’re not sure of what washes over you, but your mouth takes the better of you. And for the first time, your words aren’t clogged in your throat.

“Do it then.”

You look at him through your lashes, dark and coy, eyebrow raised, testing the very limits of Taehyung’s restraint.

The erratic beating of his heart is in sync with yours, but it increases within a second when you notice his gaze fall back on your lips from your eyes. Suddenly, this sparks your curiosity and all you can think about is how good Taehyung’s would feel on yours.

“W-What?”

“Do it, Taehyun—”

Before you could even mutter his name, his lips are suddenly smashed against yours.

Goosebumps rise on your skin in its wake when his tongue grazes along the flesh of your lower lip, and you, suddenly so enthralled by the boy in front of you, part your mouth to meet him halfway.

You don’t know how long it has been. With his lips pressed against yours, you lose track of time, watch it fly away in the form of the licks on your mouth. Taehyung slackens his jaw to deepen the kiss, cupping your face with his hands to bring you closer to him. His tongue brushes against the underside of yours and then he recedes slightly before tangling for dominance.

Your name leaves his swollen lips in a dulcet whisper, causing your heart to spike in your chest and your stomach to unravel and knot again. You press your palm over your chest to calm the injured patter of your heart against the depths of your stomach.

The way his eyelashes that are almost impossibly thick and dark flutter just a fraction with each breath, brushing slightly against your nose and you squirm at the intimacy of the moment.

When he finally parts away, you feel like you’ve been electrocuted. But your stomach drops again when a pretty blush blooms over Taehyung’s face, crossing the bridge of his nose and spreading over his cheekbones. His hands continue to rest on your shoulders, but his touch is so hot and tantalising that it makes you want to melt.

Taehyung has always called bullshit on all those romance novels that rave about how lips can taste as sweet as strawberries. But you taste like the strawberries from his grandparents’ farm – sweet and delectable.

When he licks his lips again, he shudders when his senses register the honey musk of you and the ghost of your afternoon coffee. He hates bitter coffee with a passion, but you taste so fucking sweet. Overly saccharine that he feels dizzy.

You don’t talk about the incident the previous night and you’re grateful that Taehyung doesn’t act any differently. It was most probably the adrenaline that took over you and also perhaps your curiosity because you’re a reporter and reporters are supposed to be nosey, curious and also dreaming about kissing the varsity soccer team’s captain. Yep, absolutely.

Your pride be damned. While it kills you to admit it, it’s common knowledge to everyone in the fucking school that Taehyung is just really nice to look at, be it when he dons his jersey, a button up or his colourful printed clothes. There is no doubting his ravishing features – his sharp nose, big almond eyes, long eyelashes, perky lips and the little moles that adorn his face.

Unbeknownst to you, you cross paths with Taehyung in a day more often than you think you do. Too often for your own good. Most of the time, you can hear him before he comes into view. His boisterous laughter that highlights a lilting charm to his low voice fills your ears like a plague. It is as though he has intended to haunt you with his loud presence. And though you’ve already made up your mind to avoid him unless it’s necessary to spare him a glance, it’s quite impossible. After all, you have one job – and that is to follow Taehyung for a week.

“Hey Princess!”

You could almost hear the sneer hidden in his coo and envision it with perfect clarity, that infuriating spark in his eye whenever he manages to rile you up. You don’t turn around, your feet bringing you further away from him, but eventually come to a halt when he jogs up to you, blocking your way of passage.

“Princess!”

“I heard you the first time.”

“And you still ignored me? I’m hurt.”

“What do you want?” You grunt loudly, having absolutely no qualms about showing your displeasure.

He slings his football bag over his right shoulder and smiles, “You know, you shouldn’t be mean to a person who just bought you coffee.”

“Wha—”

With a goofy smile pulling at his lips, he pushes a tumbler towards you that was initially hidden behind his back.

“You said you don’t like lukewarm coffee and a styrofoam cup wouldn’t keep it warm by the time I pass it to you, so I got you a tumbler… Besides, you said yours wasn’t good so I figured that I’ll just get you a new one.”

Warmth violently flares in the full of your cheeks, tipping your ears pink at his words. You try not to let the fact that he remembers get to you, but he fucking remembers.

You are a college student to the bone. Turning your back on coffee would be a sin. But coffee from Taehyung? In a tumbler that he purposely bought because he fucking remembers what you said?

“How—”

He beams, simpering at your speechless self. He thinks your shocked expression is adorable, doing nothing for the wildfire claiming the land of his chest.

“Did you, like, stalk me or something?”

“Pfft. Maybe?” He runs a hand through his hair with a lopsided smile, eyes filled with mirth.

“You’re so weird.”

Despite being surrounded by the steaming, teeming mass of students in the crowded hallway, the moment you two share is as private and as comforting as sitting on the sideline bench alone.

“Enjoy your coffee! This tumbler has very good reviews, I checked! So your coffee should be still hot. If not, text me and I’ll give them a bad review.”

“W-What? Tae—”

Before you could call out for him, he has already scrambled away and blended in with the crowd. You deadpan mentally when you realise that the entire hallway is gawking at you and the tumbler around your hand. But what’s more alarming is the strange tightness in your chest and the warm, tingling feeling coursing through your fingertips that you can’t get rid of.

You start learning random things about Taehyung beyond just football and general facts that everyone knows about him. It’s surreal how drastically your relationship with Taehyung has changed over the past few days. While snarky ripostes and greasy comments (from Taehyung, of course) are still exchanged, talking and listening to each other, or just being with each other, feels almost natural to you. But you’re no longer at each other’s throats and his annoying retorts have significantly decreased.

The daily meetings bring the two of you into line: by tacit and unconscious consent, you two have begun to weave a space for each other in your lives, forming a joint narrative like a breeze in the boughs, hanging in the spaces in between the two of you.

He was telling you about how he likes comparing his cheeks to bread buns, and he likes to stuff his cheeks when he eats, and that his grandparents would get upset if he returns to his hometown with sunken cheeks. You don’t realise that you’ve been grinning this entire time listening to him ramble on about his cheeks, but your smile grows even wider at Taehyung’s lock screen when his phone lights up from a notification.

“Oh my god, is that a dog?”

“Yes!” He exclaims, a little too loudly and shoves his phone in your face, “Say hi to Yeontan! Isn’t he just adorable?”

Your heart jumps at his excited smile and the tinges of pure adoration dancing in his orbs.

“Aww, he looks like a little ball of fluff.”

“He is! But he can also be very grumpy. Like you.”

“Did you just compare me to a dog?” You fold your arms fold over your chest in faux-rage.

“Such audacity!” He raises his palm to his chest with a gasp, feigning indignation. “He’s not just a dog. He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me ever since I saw him at the shelter.”

“Shelter?”

“Oh, I volunteer at a shelter for abandoned and stray pets every month. You know, Yeontan was actually abandoned by his previous owner and I don’t know, I just had to take him in? I would take all the animals at the shelter if I could, to be honest. Maybe next time. Anyways, let me show you more pictures! I have an album full of his pictures.”

“Dude…”

“Don’t be like that. I already have a Yeontan who gets super unenthusiastic whenever I show him pictures of other dogs. I think he’s jealous.”

A small smile tugs at your lips and the edges of his lips start to curl up to a semblance of a smile as well.

“Well, Yeontannie sure is one lucky dog.”

“More like I am one lucky boy,” he beams, flashing his honey bread cheeks in all their glory.

There’s no denying the sweet quiet of Taehyung’s presence when he’s not making stupid remarks, and this is expounded by how time seems to forget about its own existence these few days. Before you know it, it’s already dark and you’re soon packing up to head back home.

“I’ll need you to go through some fact-checking with you tomorrow. You free around 6pm?”

“Shit, I think I have something on,” Taehyung pouts, fishing out his phone from his pocket, “Let me check.”

“Oh, then it’s fine—”

“Do you want me to cancel it?”

“No! No, it’s fine!”

“It’s okay, I can just postpone it—”

“That’ll mean that you’re cancelling for me.... and you know, you don’t have to.”

“It’s just dinner with Jimin. Fact-checking is important for your article, right?” He says quietly, while his eyes come slowly round and rivet themselves upon your face.

You don’t miss the twinkle in his eyes, igniting a blaze deep in your bones and washing your senses away. All of a sudden, your throat feels constricted, breaths coming out short. You’re hyperaware of how close he is and to be honest, you feel like you’re standing in a room that’s on fire, too hot for the chilly evening which has a very high chance of rain.

Even if you continue to insist that you despise him, you can’t help but admit that somewhere deep down, something between the two of you is now different.

Exhaustion creeps up onto Taehyung, the pain in his arms manifested in his back as well, gradually sneaking into his legs until all his limbs are aching and stiff. Hunched over on a bench, he grits his teeth in frustration, nails digging the skin of his palms, while hot tears threaten to spill.

On Friday, you’ve walked into the team huddled in a circle, frowns all over their faces, a congealing tension evident in the air. From the clamour, it seems that one of the boys have gotten injured during practice and the team was split into two on who to be held responsible and whether there was any foul play involved.

From the sidelines, you watch Taehyung order everyone to shush and makes everyone sit down for a deconflict session. He appears surprisingly calm and addresses the issue in a collected manner. Afterwards, he invites the team to share about how they feel, allowing the conflict to openly spoken about and viewed from different perspectives. He listens attentively, like he always does with you, and speaks clearly and practically, easing the tension in the air till their teammates start coming to a consensus.

When he sees you standing at the sidelines, he gives you a small smile that you easily see through and approaches you after making sure that his teammates are cool with one another and reminds them that whatever happens on the field stays in the field.

“So um,” you begin quietly, treading carefully around his feelings, “Are fights like that common?”

You already know the answer from looking at the size of the dark bags under his eyes. He is slowly breaking down, but still holding tightly onto the carefree façade that he puts on for show, for the team. It’s also mid-terms period and from the earlier interviews, you remember that he is on a scholarship that he cannot afford to lose because his parents are struggling to send his other siblings to school as well.

Contrary to popular belief, Taehyung isn’t an open book. He’s more of a sealed book, covered in dust and trapped in a forgotten corner of a bookstore. He has his own elusive way of dealing with ways, befriending people, treasuring the people and things around him, but he has also his own way of hiding his feelings. He hates the idea of being vulnerable with people.

He is a combination of hot and cold – sometimes you feel like he’s an old friend because of the emotional compatibility and his comfortable presence, but sometimes, he just goes back to being the cocky fuckboy he is. Maybe that’s just part of the jock persona – to deceive people into thinking that he’s more than that. But in all honesty, that’s not Taehyung and you wouldn’t compartmentalise him like that or homogenise him as just another fuckboy no matter how much you dislike him.

You think you’d know him quite well from having shadowed him the past week. It has come to your realisation that you’re no longer at each other’s throats and his annoying retorts have significantly decreased, but you’re not sure whether it’s because he’s just tired from everything to go out of his way to be annoying. But you don’t have any complaints.

He lets out a dry chuckle at your question, his words sounding sugar crystalised and rough in his throat, “Are you asking this as a friend or as a reporter?”

“We’re friends?”

“We–”

Some threads of a biting remark begin to sew themselves together in his mind, but he stops instantly, too tired to really fabricate anything, much less bother to speak.

“Taehyung,” you call out after drawing a furtive breath, “Don’t doubt yourself. You’re a great friend and captain.”

Your soft and sincere tone permeates through Taehyung’s every last prickle of frustration, especially when you offer him a reassuring smile, “What you did out there was one of the selfless acts I’ve ever seen in a leader. And this should mean something, you know, considering that it’s coming from me.”

“Of course I am, I’m actually nicer than I look.”

“I know you’re kidding, but I’m trying to be serious here and on the off chance you’re not, fuck off.”

He remains quiet.

“I’m serious though. It’s obviously not easy being the captain, but it’s clear that you have rightfully earned the respect from all your teammates. You handled it quite well without being biased or losing your cool.”

“I did?” His tone, deep in timbre, is so quietly surprised that it gnaws at your heart.

“Yeah.”

“Conflicts like that are a daily occurrence,” he mumbles, “But they can really break or make our teamwork and… the momentum for me as their captain, so I have to try? I have to be responsible for my guys.”

You watch how a cocky smirk instantly settles itself on his lips right after you think that he has opened up, “But I might be just great at forming relationships and team-bonding.”

“Judging from how you treat the girls around you, I don’t think that’s completely true.”

“Girls around me?”

“You’re a fuckboy. I don’t think it’s safe to say that your relationships with girls are great.”

“It’s just sex, no big deal.”

“And that gives you the right to play with their feelings?”

“Of course not, we just hook up that’s all. No hard feelings. It’s just sex with no strings attached and they all know it. Before I hook up with someone, I make it very clear that I’m not looking for anything serious. Just meaningless sex and fun.”

“Okay, but let’s say for example, a girl does end up falling for you. Is that solely her fault?”

He stops to think.

“For now, I just don’t wish to get involved in anything serious. I don’t have the time or the energy to deal with feelings.”

You scrunch your nose up in distaste when Taehyung shrugs his shoulders casually, dismissing the conversation.

You’re not someone who is easily lost for words, always quick to retort with a witty comeback, especially when it’s with Taehyung. But this time, all you could mutter is an “I see”, before pretending to focus on writing on your notepad. For some reason, you feel like your heart just took a dip. The thought of him playing around with girls leaves a bad taste in your mouth, but you can’t comprehend why. Since when did you care what Taehyung does with his life? You never did before.

Maybe it’s because at the back of your mind, you know that your said example might not exactly be one. Maybe.

Sunday arrives quicker than ever. In retrospect, you know this day would come – in fact, you’ve been waiting for this day ever since Yoongi assigned you the profile. But there’s just something – sort of a difference in the air surrounding you and Taehyung – that kneads at your heart about this coming to an end. Whatever this is.

He doesn’t say a word when you take a sip from the tumbler that he gave you, but you’re pretty sure that the way his eyes instantly lit up with a smile to match says it all.

“Oh right! Have you eaten breakfast? I, um,” he coughs awkwardly, hand scratching the back of his hand with a nervous smile, “made some sandwiches this morning.”

He turns around to his sports bag and fishes out a lunchbox, “Strawberry cream sandwiches!”

“My grandparents own a strawberry farm, so I get all the best strawberries!” He beams, and his eyes turn into little sparkly crescents. At that, your heart skips in two, one half in your throat and the other down in your gut.

“Not to be biased, but these are the tastiest and sweetest strawberries ever. Oh! After Japanese strawberries, but don’t tell my grandparents. They’ll be sad.”

“Anyways, try it,” he hands you a sandwich and you take a moment to observe how it screams Kim Taehyung at his finest. He has trimmed the bread crusts (his nemesis) and added a shit ton of cream cheese.

Taehyung’s crescent-like eyes are now staring straight into you as he watches you bite into the sandwich, anticipating for your reaction. There’s something in his gaze that makes your limbs heavy. It makes you feel trapped and lost in the depths of his eyes, warm and inviting.

You smile at the sweet and sour taste and he literally jumps with joy, flashing his honeyed cheeks.

“It’s good, right?” He chirps, beckoning you to eat more and you ignore how Taehyung’s cheeks are fully stuffed and how he chews with a natural pout on his lips.

For a moment, the world seems to be out of space and time as you sit on the bench, savouring the sweetness of everything. Taehyung is looking at you and the moment is lengthening. He becomes severely tongue-tied, no longer knowing what to say, but yearns for this moment to stay the way it is.

“Nice weather, huh?”

“Talking about the weather now?” You ask in a bemused tone and he puffs, rolling his eyes playfully, but the growing tingle of pink on his cheeks doesn’t escape your notice.

“I-I mean... It’s nice.”

A softness settles into the lines of Taehyung’s face, and you can’t bring yourself to look away when his eyes land on yours, “It’s nice being here with you.”

And he means it. He generally feels good around you. He isn’t an anxious or socially awkward person, and he’s got tons of friends, but he still finds himself putting on a mask with most of them. A slightly louder, a more playful and enthusiastic version of himself. He almost always becomes the life of the party, the person who makes things easier and more comfortable for everyone else – breaking the silence, making jokes, drawing people out of their shells and easing them into conversations. He likes being that kind of person.

But it does get tiring, sometimes.

He likes being quiet, sometimes.

Sometimes, he just likes to curl up on the couch in his PJs and not feel like he has to be Funny! Loud! And gregarious! All at once. On some days, he just wants to laze around and watch anime till his eyes bleed. On some days, he just wants to be a normal college student without a team to manage and reputation to uphold.

You roll your eyes at his sudden confession, hoping that the warmth that sits high on your cheeks isn’t that obvious, but it probably is, from the way your heart ensnares at how Taehyung’s lips are stretched so widely across his face, his crescent eyes crinkling so adorably that you find yourself smiling too.

“You’re a loser,” you tease, shoving him lightly.

Then Taehyung is laughing, highlighting the undertones of oak and berries. He is laughing so hard that his stomach hurts and his chest aches with a drumming sound against his ribcage. Soon, laughter pokes its way across your glassy eyes, with tinges of amusement waltzing in your orbs, and pink cheeks and you’re doubling over him, with tears in your eyes and nose all scrunched up. Taehyung is holding onto you and the moment is lovely, everything is lovely.

You’re lovely.

Taehyung raises his arm to ruffle your hair, stirring up a mini tornado within you and chuckles again when you jump slightly.

“Gotta say that I’d miss having you around. You and your pesky presence. Can’t believe a week just went by just like that.”

“Rude,” you half-heartedly taunt, pushing his hand away, while a corner of your mouth curls up in retaliation.

“It was fun being your side hoe though. Do you know how many glares I’ve received by strangers, literally girls I’ve never seen before in my entire life, in the hallway? Imagine the power I have.”

“What side hoe?” He chuckles boyishly and your breath hitches, “You’re as good as my main.”

Your heart pulses erratically in your chest, cheeks flushed with a warmth that matches the one that blooms in your heart. The way he makes your heart soar terrifies the fuck out of you.

“Not sure if I should feel honoured.”

“You know, I actually don’t know how we ended up like this. You hated me for the longest time and now we’re sitting here.”

“I did hate you, all right.”

“You have such a personality.”

“That’s another way of calling me a bitch.”

“As in… vibrant, colourful, I don’t know how else to describe you. You’re rude and endearing at the same time – it’s weird.”

The most adorable of smiles form on his face as he lets out a wholehearted laugh, it makes your insides melt.

A grin moulds on your face that resembles his own, “And you’re still a huge pain in the ass.”

“Still a bomb ass that I’ll tap.”

Later in the day, you receive a text from Taehyung. It’s not the first time that he has texted you. But little did you know that he would be a freaking double texter.

[from annoying ass jock] [18:49] hey you [18:49] do you want to grab dinner [18:49] i am very hungry right now lol [18:49] i mean you’re probably hungry unless you’ve eaten? [18:49] take this as a goodbye dinner, celebratory dinner wtv [18:51] feel free to say no tho HAHAHAHA

[you] [18:53] stfu I wasn’t going to say no [18:53] clam down [18:54] i’m kinda craving for a good burger and cheese fries

The night passes by smoother and faster than expected. Maybe it’s because you don’t realise the possibility of it being a date. The way Taehyung has asked you for dinner seems rather impromptu, so you’ve completely eliminated the idea of it being a date.

On the other hand, Taehyung himself knows that this is a date. While you’re cutting into your burger, he is furiously chewing on his fries, struggling to believe that you had even taken up his absurd offer of eating dinner together. On a Friday evening. With him. Is it a sign of peace? Or even something more?

He offers to walk you back to your dorm after that, telling you that he needs to walk off his burger. When he walks side-by-side with you, you focus at how he is so tall, how his height literally hovers over you, doing nothing but darkening the pink high on your cheeks.

When he stops in his track abruptly, you have to tilt your head upwards to look at his face, and each passing streetlamp casts his already golden skin in an orange glow, throwing tiny suns in his eyes into orbit.

Tonight is a little different.

The way he’s looking at you is a little different.

He takes your palms into his and starts playing with your fingers, allowing the two of you to stew and bask in the quiet contentment of the night.

His other hand rests gingerly on your waist, before bringing you closer to him. Then you find his lips graze the shell of your ear and shudder at his warm breath on your skin, inviting the rise of gooseflesh to scatter all over your body.

Your mind goes blank. All you can only think about how his touch on your waist burns, how ticklish his breath is on your face, and how there are little awakening tingles that shoot up your spine every time his skin comes into contact with yours. How he’s so gentle with you as if you’re a delicate piece of art.

How much you want him to kiss you.

Honestly, it takes you by surprise how much you actually want him to do just that, how much you’ve unconsciously thought about this so often that you can already imagine the ghost of his fingers down the cleft of your chin.

A fizzle of electricity runs down your spine when he brings your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to each finger, before he brushes over your knuckles to intertwine his fingers with yours.

He’s looking at you with as much certainty as you know that he’s going to sweep in and kiss you. You offer him a smile, and it is all the reassurance Taehyung needs before he leans in to press his lips against yours. Something akin to fireworks explodes inside you, colouring your insides and nerves with rainbow sparks. It makes you feel so alive.

The gentle brush of skin becomes static charge. He takes his time with you and kisses you like he’s always had the intention of doing so, like this isn't a spur of the moment catastrophe. Like he wants more of you, needs a taste of what he’s been yearning for the longest time.

You are abstrusely drawn to Taehyung. Like planets condemned by gravity to collide, you two have become yoked as one. It’s the headiness of his scent, the taste of his lips, his tongue that carefully darts over your bottom lip and seeks entrance. It’s the way he’s kissing you, so different, so soft and gentle, like it’s grounded in something you can’t quite place, compared to the first kiss.

Taehyung’s lips are soft like the cup of his hands around your face, but it is the settling of the repeated brush of his mouth against yours that makes you almost melt into the ground.

Nipping lightly at your lower lip, his lips curl up into a smirk when he hears a gasp escape from your mouth, your heart ricocheting in your chest.

It’s an amalgamation of teeth, hidden feelings and pure adoration that are coming to a head and finally bursting – absolutely everything you wanted and more. But even when your tongues tangle with one another, it is more sensual and romantic than hasty and lustful.

The night is upon you when he parts from you moments later, allowing you to catch the breaths that have escaped from your now swollen-red lips and come down from your highs. You’re staring at him with eyes laced with fondness, before he leans in to meet your forehead and chuckles to himself at how surreal everything is.

You shouldn’t be feeling so happy, so satisfied, but you feel like you’ve been moon-struck. God, you can’t even figure it out yourself. Not when you’re tucked into his broad sturdy chest, his chin resting on the crown of your head and hand resting gently around your waist. Listening to his heartbeat. Though you’re aware that he isn’t looking for anything serious, you want to believe that maybe, just maybe his heart is beating as thunderously as yours because he’s serious this time.

“Not about to feint surprise at how you’re still alive because I’m going to need that profile from you, but I have to ask. Did you not sleep last night?” You look up to see Yoongi raising his eyebrow at you with suspicion.

“Ah, the appearance of negation in a question – my cup of tea. Do I reply yes or no to your pervasive question?”

“Very snarky today, I see. You look like melted ice cream, topped with tasteless sprinkles.”

“And you look like a boiled dumpling.”

“Thanks.”

“I was up doing work last night.”

“You’ve already handed up all your submissions,” he replies matter-of-factly.

“I know… I just… was,” you shoot Yoongi a pointed look, “thinking about stuff.”

The change in his expression lets you in that he knows exactly about what’s up, “Thinking about stuff, huh?”

“I’m just so—”

“Whipped for Kim Taehyung and I want to tap that ass. South Korea’s ass, yeah?”

“Disoriented. The word I was going for was disoriented, thank you very much. But also, what the fuck?”

“I said what I said.”

“I also said what I said. Don’t be gross.”

“Look,” Yoongi clears his throat, as if to brace himself for his forthcoming words, “I don’t really want to be involved in whatever feud or relationship you have – look how I didn’t overgeneralise because I’m generally confused. But one thing’s for sure. You clearly have feelings for him.”

“Yeah, of course I do. Anger, impatience and animosity.”

“You know what I mean,” he sighs in incredulity and gives you a look like he can look through your soul and tell that you’re lying through your teeth.

“What the fuck, dude? Kim Taehyung is just urgh. There is nothing good about that jock – all he knows is fucking around and getting onto my nerves. Seriously—"

“Seriously? You expect me to believe that? Don’t think I didn’t notice you smiling at your laptop while working on that profile? Or how you’re glued to your phone because he’s texting you or sending you memes?”

“What?” You blurt out in disbelief.

“Don’t fight me on that – you hate texting. I’m not blind, Y/N. He obviously ignited something in you.”

“What the fuck,” you snarl, “That’s disgusting. I don’t even know what’s so interesting about him, like why the heck are people so smitten by him. They must be blind or something. I swear that I’ve lost at least 10 years of my life from spending an entire week with him. Don’t know how I’m still alive.”

“Y/N…”

“I don’t fucking understand why people put him on a pedestal. He’s really your typical jock? Another egotistical fuckboy. An airhead with no personality. I don’t understand why people like him so much—"

“Um… Taehyung…”

“What?” You flare up impatiently, acrimonious at how Yoongi keeps interrupting your hate speech, totally missing the grimace on his face.

“Y/N, Taehyung… He’s behind you.”

You spin around and your heart drowns in your chest.

The sight of Taehyung’s face of reticence at the door punches you straight in the gut. He shakes his head with a forlorn smile that you can easily see through and turns on his heels, walking away quickly.

Without hesitation, you run after him, your chest tightening with a disconsolate, stifling feeling, as if you’ve just swallowed a hard lump of cloud.

“Tae! I can explain–”

He turns around, maintaining his distance from you, “Gee Y/N, I didn’t know you hated me that much. I thought… thought that after spending all this time with me, your feelings might have changed. But you still… you still hate me, don’t you?”

“Taehyung, listen – I didn’t mean it. I j-just–”

His brows crinkled together in a tight wedge, eyes pressed shut.

“You meant it.”

“I–”

Your tongue feels heavy, like it’s made of iron.

“You meant it,” he repeats, shoulders sunken low, crestfallen, and you swear, you see hurt in his eyes.

Your heart immediately falls with it, knowing that you’re the cause of his sadness. It feels like there’s a fist seizing your heart and squeezing it until it bursts and splatters all over the walls. When he walks away from you, the pain remains, unabated.

Only heaven and you yourself know how much you did not mean it.

When you wake up the next few mornings, it’s as if a shadow is lurking at the back of your mind.

There is a tirade running on loop in the back of your mind, the more you thought about it, the angrier you got. But anger is merely a convenient emotion that easily covered up for sorrow. You are angry at yourself for hurting Taehyung.

You’d never say it, but in between glances, hazy mornings at the field and the exchange of witty ripostes, your feelings for Taehyung have changed, unbeknownst to the world. You have no idea when it happened. When the lines that so clearly distinguished you from Taehyung became so blurred. When he stopped being irritating, an obstacle, an enemy and became something else entirely.

You don’t exactly know when you started to thaw and let your guard down to let him in, but you know that you… like seeing Taehyung smile. And you also know that you want to be one of the reasons for his smile.

Despite the overwhelming amount of work you need to attend to, these few days, you spend a lot less time working on your assignments like you should be and a lot more daydreaming about twinkling eyes and a distinctive laughter from a boxy smile. It doesn’t go past your notice – how your heart goes all erratic when a particular football player is around, his sunshine smile radiating the darkest part of your mind and threatening to break your steely, collected demeanour into bits.

You have been so scared to let him in, so afraid to let yourself fully submerge in the comfort of his touches, in the calm that envelops you when Taehyung is beside you, listening to you ramble, or when he looks at you when he thinks you’re not looking.

You tell yourself that you’d be fine. That life goes on. That Taehyung is just another almost and you can live without talking to him again like how your life was before this whole shit-show. But you remember the current that zaps you whenever he brushes his hand against yours, the ricocheting of your heart whenever you find him staring at you. You also think about the little crinkle at the edges of his eyes whenever he laughs and the music of his laughter that you’ve grown to adore. Little did you know, the warmth at the pit of your stomach has long built a house to reside in and it’s yearning for its owner to come home.

It hurts.

It hurts because Taehyung has the prettiest, purest and brightest of all souls. He views the world in a different light with all his little quirks. You adore his ardent love for classical jazz (he accidentally played his music out loud when you were with him and gave you a whole lecture on and you didn’t stop him for he spoke so animatedly with stars in his eyes), for strawberries and his family that he would have been a farmer with his grandparents if he didn’t attend college.

Because when he loves, he loves so fiercely, softly and dearly, like the first snow, like the fresh dew on a perfectly bloomed rose. Soon, the gentle heat of the morning will send him back to the clouds and the bloom will raise her head, calling to the summer bees. Taehyung flows like honey in your soul and makes you feel so whole, but vulnerable at the same time.

He’s a dream come true, a daydream, a part of the labyrinth where reveries rest. He’s just so wonderfully and ethereally endearing.

The ache in your chest throbs especially when you spot a cute dog on the way to the café downtown and whip out your phone to snap a picture to tell Taehyung that it’s one of Yeontan’s little friends. You almost hit the send button, but your thumb freezes into place when you remember.

Right.

He’s never going to talk to you again.

It also hurts extra bad when you’re glued to your laptop, fingers hacking away to finish up the feature article on the said boy, writing about the true Kim Taehyung that currently, only you know of. But he probably hates your face right now.

“Hey, you’re—”

“Yoongi, no. I’m not alive. I’ve never felt more dead before.”

“I was going to commend you for being here today after you know, yesterday’s incident.”

He grabs a chair and sits by you and a dreadful sigh escapes from your lips because you’re well-aware that Yoongi is going to make you talk. He isn’t the type to let you ignore your feelings, preferring in honest and open communication even if it pains you to talk about your feelings because you’re so emotionally constipated.

“How are you?”

Burying your face in your hands, you somehow manage to choke out the words lodged deep in your throat, “Feel like shit. I thought I hit rock bottom. But now it’s rock bottom, 50 feet of crap and then me.”

If Yoongi notices the tremble of your fingers, he doesn’t comment on it and you’re grateful for that.

“Tell me more.”

It’s not a question.

God, you hate it when he presses. Fuck journalists and their persistence of sticking their noses into other people’s business. You want to laugh at how ironic this is.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you laugh dryly and cringe at how fake it sounds.

You have your usual self-defensive answer rolling off the tip of your tongue, “I am just another dumb bitch who fell for him.”

“You know, if you’re going to continue being like this, I don’t really know how to help you.”

“I’m not kidding. I feel so dumb for liking him. In fact, one part of me is fucking furious that I’m so vulnerable right now. I hate feelings.”

“First of all, you’re not dumb for liking him. And second of all, human beings are vulnerable and all feelings, no matter how small or insignificant or cliché they are, are all valid. That’s how we grow.”

He continues sagely, “Look, whatever happened between you two is a mess. So you hated him last time, but you’ve developed feelings for him, and that’s all that should matter, no? Don’t refuse your feelings just because you know, you’re too ashamed or scared to acknowledge them.”

Your mouth opens and then snaps close. You repeat this in your state of stupefaction as your brain tries to process everything that has occurred.

“Does it matter if I acknowledge my feelings?”

He doesn’t answer.

“He told me that he isn’t looking for anything serious. Just meaningless sex and fun. I literally just played myself.”

“I don’t exactly know what Taehyung feels about this. But what I know is that they have their first game in a few days and he hasn’t been doing well. Coach has been going really hard on him. You should go talk to him, yeah?”

“Yoongi,” you whisper helplessly, “I’m scared.”

“I know.”

He puts his hand atop yours as a form of comfort and suddenly, everything seems okay. Even if it is just in that moment.

Before you clock out of the editorial room, Yoongi sends you back with your article to vet through before giving the green light to the designers. Scrolling all the way to the bottom of the document, you realise that Yoongi hasn’t fixed anything at all to the point that you wonder if he has accidentally sent the wrong version. Until you spot his message at the bottom in really tiny font because you know, Yoongi.

I said that you’re the only person who could cover this feature article and I wasn’t wrong. Well done. Hope you know that I’ll always have your back, alive or dead.

You decide to drop by football practice the next day. Lurking near the bleachers, you jump in horror when Jungkook spots you being suspicious. From the way his eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights upon the sight of you, you know that he’s aware of the recent happenings.

“Hey,” he offers you a small smile, but you could tell from the size of the dark bags under his eyes that he is shagged to the bone.

“Hi.”

“Y/N, right? You okay?”

You let out an awkward chuckle, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because Cap is a mess?”

“Is he really?”

He laughs dryly, “Aren’t you here to confirm that?”

“Um—”

“Sorry, I just… the stress is getting to all of us. But especially to hyung. He’s being really grilled by Coach for the sudden dip in performance.”

“Right… I’m sorry… If I caused this. I just—”

Across the field, Coach’s whistle shrills through the air and you realise that it’s directed at Taehyung. From where you’re standing, his grunts are almost inaudible, but the sound of his voice still traverses the darkness of your mind.

“You know, this is the first thing hyung is being grilled by Coach. He’s always been Coach’s favourite, even right from the very start, so Coach doesn’t really know how to deal with him either. Hyung’s even worse than his freshman self. You know, hyung didn’t know shit about football when he first joined? It was a joke. He really worked his way up, even though all he wanted was just to play on the field.”

A sudden prick of guilt pinches at your chest.

“Hey Jungkook, could you do me a favour? Could you pass this to him? You can just leave it on top of his bag? I think he’ll know.”

When Taehyung hobbles into the locker room feeling like death after a vigorous grilling session, his legs almost collapse on the floor. But then he sees a lunch box atop his bag and runs towards it, huffing louder than usual, so hard that he feels like his lungs might collapse like his legs. And when he opens it, only to see a nicely packed strawberry sandwich with a little post-it note on top of it, he lets out a huge breath and for the first time in years after his grandmother’s passing, Taehyung cries.

Don’t tell your grandparents (sorry!) but these are Japanese strawberries. Good luck for Sat, Yeontannie and I believe in your galaxy 💜

A big commotion startles Taehyung from his mandatory quiet time that he sets aside before each game. He’ll put on his headphones and play his jazz playlist to meditate for at least a good 10 minutes, allowing both his muscles and mind to rest. But even his noise-cancelling headphones can do so much in blocking out his rambunctious and adrenaline-filled teammates.

“Captain! Your girlfriend’s here!”

“Captain!”

“Tae!”

“Wha—”

Before Taehyung could even remove his headphones to bark at his teammates for disturbing his peace, the door that swings open reveals his very confusion, rendering him utterly speechless.

He sees you standing there with an apprehensive expression, looking out of place as fuck, and if it’s possible, Taehyung can hear the gears in your brain turning frantically from here.

When your eyes land on Taehyung sitting across the room, the first thought that pops into your mind is that it feels like eons since you’ve last seen his face. It’s only been a few days, but you miss seeing him. You miss him so fucking badly.

He looks tired. There are dark circles painting his under-eyes and frown lines on his forehead and that doesn’t sit well with you, because there’s always either an annoying smirk or a bright smile plastered on his face.

For moments and moments, your eyes rest on the boy in front of you, drinking in his presence – the coruscating eyes and pretty lips behind his inspired, untiring voice.

“Hi,” he breathes with an indifferent expression, removing his headphones hastily before he stands up to close the gap between the two of you. The nervous flickering of your eyes doesn’t escape his notice.

“Hey,” you whisper back, lips quivering. There are many more words on the tip of your tongue, but the prevailing fear that catches in your throat freezes your lungs.

The boys have filed out of the locker room to give you two some privacy and now the world is basking in their awkward, ricocheting off the window in a quiet plea for noise. It is so quiet that if you focus more, you could hear the erratic thumping of your heart.

“How’s your article?” Taehyung asks and silence comes to splinter like a stone thrown at a wall, colliding with it and shattering like lightning bolts.

A frown settles itself on your temple at how he is trying to make everything seem all right. How the first thing he does is ask you about your article when you’re the one clearly at fault and he isn’t even showing signs of anger towards you. How could he be so selfless?

“It’s fine,” you mumble, “But I’m not here to…. I’m…”

Without warning, you go on your toes and reach for the rosy flesh on his mouth. At your touch, his entire body softens. It feels like there’s a cavernous hole in his aching heart.

“I’m sorry, Tae.”

Taehyung gives you a little nod, his way of saying it’s okay, before closing his eyes until they disappear in the shadows of his long black lashes.

You kiss him with profound earnestness that had been missing during the first kiss, dusting kisses over every inch of his blushing features, until you’re breathless, dizzy with want. There’s this inexplicable spark of desire growing within you and warming your body from inside out. Your heart longs for him, marvels in how right it feels to be in his arms, to kiss him, to be as close to him as possible.

Gosh, you’ve missed this so much.

Taehyung’s hands find your face, cradling your cheeks as if you’re the most delicate flower he has ever encountered, as if your petals would tear apart if he wasn’t gentle with you. He doesn’t look away from your eyes, searching your gaze silently. Now that you’re here, standing right in front of his very eyes, it makes everything all the more painful.

You move your hand to the back of his neck, pulling him into another gentle kiss, falling onto him like moonlight on a window seat.

“Princess…” He calls for you, voice deep and huskier than you’d ever heard it, and the timber of it sends shivers raking down your spine, “You know that I’m physically incapable of being angry or upset with you.”

The two of you move silently in each other's orbits, solitary planets in a lonely galaxy.

“I’m sorry for everything,” you whisper against his lips as his fingers play with the hem of your shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay, love. I’m just happy that you’re here.”

More words are lost on his tongue as he seizes the opportunity to drink in the sight of you, his eyes trace the outline of your visage, from the curve of your nose to the arch of your philtrum and down to the soft of your lips.

“Are we just going to stare at each other until the buzzer rings?” You joke.

“Can I? I haven’t looked at your face enough lately,” he laughs, “Missed your face. A lot.”

His eyelashes brush against his cheeks, following the stare of your eyes into deep brown irises. When he leans a fraction of a space closer, his bangs brush softly against your forehead.

“Taehyung…” You breathe out, reaching out to caress his face, fingers brushing away his bangs from his eyes, “Can I ask you something?”

“As a friend or a reporter?”

“Neither,” you reply, “I just wanted to know… Since when?”

“Since when?” He tilts his head.

“Since when did you start having feelings for me?”

He laughs like it’s an obvious question, tugging the fallen strand of your hair behind your ears. His expression is hard to decipher, it’s a combination of amusement and endearment, but he is smiling so widely that it’s almost blinding.

“I’ve always liked you, Y/N. Remember when Yoongi-hyung introduced you to me and you were angry about something?”

“I’m always angry about something.”

“I thought you were interesting as fuck.”

“You’re fucking weird.”

“Okay, but can you at least tell me why you hated me?”

“Fine. It’s because… Iwasjealousathowyou’regoodateverything.”

“W-What?”

“I was jealous… because you’re good at everything. Like without even trying. And I thought it was plain unfair, because people like me need to work so hard to do well, while there are people like you who are just… born talented.”

“I—”

“But after getting to know you, I realised that I’ve completely misunderstood you. You hide a lot of things about yourself, but you’re incredibly humble and hardworking even though you’re fucking annoying and cocky. And you’re so selfless, you offer help to your teammates when you notice them struggling. And you’re also so nice to everyone, you make them feel comfortable. Y-You kind of bring light to everyone around you. That’s just your charm, I guess.”

You reach out to hold his hand, but he beats you to it, taking your palm into his. He starts playing with your fingers, mapping every whorl of the ridges on your fingertips.

“Remember the day Yoongi introduced us to each other? It was also the day I failed my scholarship interview. I was up against you and there was only one slot left. You got it, so when you were teasing me for being grumpy, I kind of took my anger out on you. Felt like you were making fun of me.”

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, “I was smiling at you because I found you cute, dumbass. I kept pestering Yoongi-hyung to introduce me to you so when he finally, I was so nervous and didn’t know how to behave in front of you. I didn’t even know that I was up against you for the scholarship.”

When Yoongi first introduced you to Taehyung, he thought that you two would hit off long. But he didn’t take into account the fact that Taehyung and you are polar opposites – your petulance and Taehyung’s happy-go-lucky attitude is a stark juxtaposition. So when Taehyung opened his mouth and told Yoongi (right in front of you, bitch) that you looked like you were about to cry, his chin tilted up slightly, one eyebrow cocked, right after you found out that you failed your scholarship, so it was a straight-up no for Kim.

“Well, we’re both dumb.”

You look away in faux-annoyance, desperately trying to prevent your cheeks from igniting under the warm gaze that deftly lights upon you. “Long story short: I’m mean and I don’t deserve you.”

He cups your face with a smile so bright that his nose scrunches up adorable, “What are you on about? We were made to complete the living hell of each other.”

This prompts another fond smile to play on your lips, one so tight it hurts your cheeks.

When you realise that time’s running out, you tip-toe to press another kiss on his cheek, “For good luck. Go out there and get the trophy for me, bitch.”

The smile you give is soft and pink-cheeked, but familiar in every kind of way and for the umpteenth time, Taehyung gets the fucking air truly knocked out of his lungs. He’s a goner.

“You know,” his eyes are soft and there’s a wisp of a smile on his rosy lips, “I’ll get you the moon if you asked. But you deserve so much more than just the moon, Princess.”

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that you have almost always wanted to kiss Kim Taehyung. From the very start. And if there’s one thing that you don’t, it’s that the same boy will almost always kiss you back until you’re drowning in honey.

After Taehyung receives the trophy and lifts it high in the air for everyone to see with his teammates cheering around him, the entire ordeal almost has you in tears and you run to him, pressing kisses and bites down necks and collarbones. The ministrations don’t stop even when the two of you waltz-dance and skip all the way to his apartment, never getting enough of each other’s touches.

Taehyung’s fingers knot in your hair, controlling the kiss, his other hand finding purchase on the curve of your waist and teeth digging into the swell of your lower lip. You let out a whine that only encourages Taehyung to press against you closer and kiss you harder, in such a primal way that has heat swirling in your belly and wetness to pool between your thighs.

Your fire to him is the most peerless of lights.

Adrenaline runs through his entire body, lighting up his nerves like fireworks as he removes your shirt and openly soaks in the sight of your body, how your breasts are cupped by your lacey bra and how you’re blushing fervently.

“So pretty for me. All for me.”

You don’t miss the way he growls and licks his lips, eyes hooded as he stares at you like you’re a piece of meat that he can’t wait to devour. And his actions prove his ardent hunger when he grabs your chin and tilts it to the side, before attaching his lips greedily to the skin on your neck and licking a stripe over the flesh. He carries on nibbling on the sensitive part of your skin, sucking and biting in a way that is sure to leave you crying for more.

“Wow, and I thought you’d be tired after the game.”

He is already breathing heavily as he towers over you, biting back his moans, rocking his hips upwards for some needed friction.

“Can’t be tired when I’m just getting started with you.”

He pushes you onto the bed and comes crawling to hover over you within seconds as he connects his lips aggressively with your neck once more. While he continues to suck faint lilac bruises into your skin, you can’t help but jut your hips firmly against his, an instinctive reaction to feel more of him.

He groans loudly and this spurs you to give another experimental roll of your hips over his. This time he freezes and accidentally bites down on your neck a little harder than before which earns another sharp gasp from you, but this only douses the flames licking your abdomen. He leans back to apologise, but his words are lost at the tip of his tongue when you continue to grind against him shamelessly. His hands fall to your hips, nails digging firmly in place, and holds you down against his raging boner that now pokes at your inner thighs.

Thrashing in Taehyung’s grip, you sit up, hands finding the courage to explore the soft material of his shirt. Running your fingers over the buttons, you hastily tug it off him, lingering your fingers over his bare skin that you desperately want to kiss with your lips, lick with your tongue and mark with your teeth as yours.

You feel his hunger swallow you whole, his gaze leaving trails of fire as they run all over your body, electrifying you all over.

“Can I eat you out?” His voice is deep, much huskier than ever, and the timber of it sends shivers raking down your spine.

“God, why did you ever think that I would say no?”

In the briefest of moments, Taehyung tugs your shorts down with a grunt. Your eyes lock briefly, heat blooming like a stove burner, flaring up with that low flickering blue when you notice the pure, unadulterated lust in his concupiscent eyes. Fizzy warmth floods your belly, the knot of lust tightening within your abdomen.

His hands rub at your thighs, spreading them widely as he moves down the expanse of your body. There’s a raw power hidden in his hands and it’s tantalisingly arousing to feel those fingertips pressing into the meat of your thighs, wandering under you to squeeze at your ass.

Leaning in, he begins to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses over your bare torso, before trailing lower to your inner thighs and giving them a few kitten licks. You squirm underneath him at the intimacy, while an involuntary gasp leaves your lips at the sensation of his warm breath and lips dusting across your sensitive skin. The sudden stimulation leaves you aching for his lips to be somewhere else, somewhere where it’s throbbing to be touched, to be filled.

Taehyung seems to sense exactly what you want and the next thing you know, you’re falling back onto your elbows and his nose is pressed into the cotton of your underwear. He inhales deeply and groans, eyes cloudy with lust and pleasure, relishing the unbidden scent of your arousal.

Fucking hell.

The hot of his tongue starts teasing your bud through the sheer fabric, sucking through your underwear. Timidly, you lift your lips up, seeking for friction, but Taehyung doesn’t relent, pushing you back down.

“Gotta be patient, Princess.”

When he finally, like finally, removes your soaked underwear, he dips his head between your thighs and licks a long, languid strip along your folds. This elicits a loud keen from you, hips bucking but he winds his arms under your legs and over your hips to properly restrain you. He begins slowly again, lapping up your juices like a man starved, his satisfied whimpers sending vibrations straight to your clit.

“You smell so fucking good,” he continues on to wrap his plush lips around your clit, growling against your pussy and you feel it vibrate deep in your core, “But taste even fucking better.”

Ecstasy washes over you and you cry out, pleasure hot and sharp shooting through your veins to feed the tightening coil in your abdomen as you writhe in his iron grasp, fingers grasping for purchase at his hair.

“Can fucking eat you out all day, want to bet?”

His teeth scrape lightly against the nub when he speaks, and your back arches at the pleasure. He continues to slurp up whatever you offer him, before giving in to your unspoken request, trailing a finger up your folds and sliding it in.

You’ve always known that Taehyung has long, slender fingers – you’ve noticed how long and pretty they are when they’re wrapped around the football, when he waves to you and when he plays with your fingers. And perhaps, you’ve thought about him doing things to you with those fingers before, but now that he has his finger in you, you cannot emphasise how otherworldly it feels. Fucking delirious.

His long digit meets no resistance, instantly enveloped in the tight, slick heat of your core as he goes in knuckle-deep and adds another finger, and it makes you feel so full that you’re losing your mind. You scream even more when he fucks you deep with both his knuckles and the flat of his hot tongue, bringing the inklings of stars behind your eyes.

His fingers continue to pump into you in a quicker succession that has you trembling and keening. Your pussy gushes at his merciless, erratic flicks and pokes at your hot spots, clenching around his fingers and soaking them in your intoxicating sweetness. Shockwaves begin to tear through you and you’re coming too hard and too fast. But Taehyung doesn’t stop and continues to suck harder to help you ride out the pleasure, the squelch of his tongue lapping at your juices filling the entire room in their entirety.

“Please, Tae, please I’m c-close. Your fingers… Fuck. Feel so good. Fuck, fuck!”

You’re dripping, leaking even by now and when he detaches away from your clit to look at you, you can see your own juices glisten on his lips, dribble down to his chin, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. The throb in your core has never been more torturous.

He leans in to give your clit another chaste kiss and your hips buck up instantly into his face as he gathers the arousal onto his tongue, tasting the heavenly mix of your juices and his saliva.

“Does Princess want to taste how sweet she is? Princess likes my fingers, doesn’t she?” He purrs, coating your juices with his fingers and holding them up so you can see how they coruscate in the dim light.

Nodding hazily, you open your mouth and he doesn’t hesitate to slide three of his digits in and you suck the evidence of your own bliss off his skin, enjoying your own taste and the weight and fit of his slender fingers in your mouth. Taehyung swallows in satisfaction and fervour at how dirty you look.

“Fuck, Y/N. Can’t wait to fuck you. Going to fuck you so good you can’t walk for days.”

A spark of a fire in the very core of your being, beginning to fizzle outward at his words.

Without warning, he pounces onto you, planting kisses on your jawline and down your neck again. When you crane your neck to give him more space, he takes his time, hard muscle of his tongue lapping at your sweet skin, lips sucking until a bruise begins to bloom.

“So fucking beautiful, God,” he croons, threading his fingers through your hair as he groans at how hot this is.

“Taehyung,” you breathe, looking up through your eyelashes, vision hazy with lust, “Want your fat cock in my fucking mouth. Please?”

Taehyung grunts loudly at your crude request, rolling his eyes in a mixture of disbelief and pleasure. He wants your words, this exact memory, to be burned into the very cells of his brain.

“Yeah? Princess wants my dick?”

Pushing his sweats and underwear down with swift fingers, you watch how his dick slaps hard against his stomach. It is searing red at the tip, the head thicker than the shaft, begging to be touched.

You want to fucking sit on it, suck him till you’ve milked him of all his cum. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on before, not when his long fingers are wrapped around his fat cock, giving it a couple of quick strokes. Fuck, his fingers can barely wrap around his dick and that itself makes you dizzy with arousal.

“Open wide, sweetie.”

You throw yourself in front of his thighs, mouth wide, sticking your tongue out in anticipation. You can’t help but moan out loud when Taehyung slaps the head of his dick against your cheek, spreading precum all over, and then on your tongue, before slowly feeding you his cock. Fuck, you feel so dirty.

Taehyung’s cock rests heavy on your tongue, throbbing in the wet heat of your mouth. You lick a long stripe with your tongue on the underside of his length, feeling the very veins that have popped out.

He doesn’t believe that it’s happening. He can’t, not at how he has dreamt about this more times than he can count with both hands, and now it is actually fucking happening.

He grunts, “Dreamt about this so many times. You have no idea how many times I’ve jerked off to this.”

“Jerked off to what?” You tease as your fingers wrap themselves around the base of Taehyung’s dick to keep it steady, massaging his balls every now and then, as you suck noisily around the tip. Running your tongue along the side of his shaft and then back up to swirl your tongue at his slit to lick at his precum, you rejoice in the almost pained whine he lets out.

“Jerked off to you on your knees, looking pretty as fuck, while sucking my fat cock,” he smirks, without blinking an eye at the announcement of his fantasy.

Shuddering at his words, you start to bob your head, taking a little more of him every time you go down until you’re choking and your eyes are watering.

“Fuck yeah, just like that. Does Princess want me to fuck her throat? Feel so full and good?”

A low groan rumbles from deep within his throat, bordering on animalistic, which sends tremors of desire to thrum through your veins.

Peering up through fluttering lashes at Taehyung with your plush lips stretched wide around him, you smile at his fucked-out expression and proceed to alternate licking between his balls and his hard shaft.

When you take his cock into your mouth again, you purr at the fullness of him, opening your mouth wider to take him deeper until he’s fucked himself to the hilt of your throat, your nose buried in the tussock of cleanly trimmed pubic hair at his navel.

“Not so snarky anymore now with my cock in your mouth, huh?”

You don’t reply. The darkness in your eyes is enough to send a punch of heat straight into the pit of Taehyung’s gut and he can’t help but buck his hips forward, sliding right into the wet, hot vice of your throat, fucking right into your throat ruthlessly, leaving you a whimpering, writhing mess.

You don’t stop suckling with your lips, coating his length in saliva and then pull off with a little 'pop’, your hands still working at the base of Taehyung’s cock, fondling his balls.

“C-Cum,” your lips gleam in saliva and precum, “Please… Cum on my face.”

“Want me to come all over your face, doll? You’re so fucking dirty.”

Taehyung grips at his cock, stroking it a few times, before he taps his cock against your cheek again. His mind is sent in turmoil when you stick your tongue out and before he knows it, he’s ejaculating in thick spurts all over your face.

You look so fucking pretty with globs of white all over your chin and cheek and Taehyung shivers in ecstasy, a growl ready at the back of his throat, “Y-You really have no idea what you do to me.”

You lick off what he can, relishing in the taste of Taehyung as you swipe your thumb over your mouth to coat it with his cum and suck on it, while your other hand reaches behind to squeeze his ass.

“You weren’t kidding about your ass,” you whirl, slapping his ass and loving the way it jiggles.

“Yeah? It’s all yours, Princess.”

Taehyung traces the knobs on the base of your spine with his other hand, finding warm and soft skin. You let out another desperate sound against your lips, feeling a shock of electricity zip through your back down to your very core.

Arching your back, you throw your head back and Taehyung takes this opportunity and slips his tongue in the hot wet of your mouth and licks fervently at the four corners, rougher and needier this time round.

It’s as if all at once, something connects between you two. You find it impossible to breathe properly, hands fisted in Taehyung’s locks, dizzy and lightheaded and hot all over. Taehyung’s teeth scrape over your bottom lip. It’s almost impossible to pull away, but when you finally break apart, a strand of saliva connects your mouths together and it lands on your chest.

“Fuck, so dirty,” Taehyung’s eyes are golden, blown wide, and he smiles at you so dearly that it makes your chest gnaw. It’s the littlest of moments and softest of gasps that render you breathless. Every part of your body that Taehyung has touched feels like it’s on fire, but it’s the deep timber of his voice, almost a growl, that makes you feel like he’s melting.

“So wet for me.”

He yearns to memorize the map of your body, the trenches of the grooves on your lower back, the stars living in your eyes, the parts of your body that have you shuddering from the pleasure.

You can feel it, the tip of his cock brushing against your wetness and you let out a soft plea. Your stomach ties into a knot when he slaps his dick against your clit a few times, loving how his head is already soaked by your juices. When you search for his eyes, you see that his irises are long gone, blanketed with pure, unadulterated lust.

“Want you. Want you to fuck me with your fat cock, Tae.”

He has to bite his own flesh to suppress the feral moan threatening to drip from his swollen, red lips, “Fucking hell. Can’t believe you used to hate me. Now here you are, begging me to fuck you.”

Your breath hitches when you feel him enter you, his cock pushing against your walls and stretching you out so good. He eases his cock slowly until it fills you the brim, pushing against your hot walls until he can go no further.

“You’re so tight for me. Feels fucking good,” he breathes out with a hazy smile, and your eyes flutter closed.

He doesn’t move for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the stretch and burn, before the wriggle of your hips urges him to move and he knows that he’s about to take you higher than ever. He lifts his lips to almost pull all the way out, the tip nestling an inch within your entrance, and without warning, slams back into your cunt, drawing a choked moan from the both of you as his length drags against your walls and hits a spot deep inside you.

Your back arches off the bed at the pleasure, a sharp cry leaving your lips.

“Fuck yeah, you like that princess? Going to be a good girl for me?”

“Yes, yes! Fuck Taehyung. You feel so good.”

This only prompts him to repeat the movement a few more times, until he settles on pounding into you mercilessly with a precision that he flaunts on the field. He continues fucking into that same sensitive spot over and over again with no signs of slowing down, finally able to fulfil the primal, animalistic need and urge that has accumulated ever since the day he met you.

As his hips snap into yours, his palm remains gentle on your face, his tongue hot and assimilating your own so passionately and tenderly that it makes your heart melt. There’s just something so tangibly tender and sensual about the way he’s kissing you, while fucking you senseless, as if he wants you to know how much he wants this, how much he wants to give himself to you with each stroke.

How much love he has to devote to you.

“Faster, faster, don’t stop, Taehyung. Fuck.”

You can feel every drag of Taehyung’s thick cock inside you, his ridges sliding against your walls and hitting that little bundle of nerves inside you that has got you babbling nonsense and your eyes rolled all the way up.

Screwing your eyes closed, the sparks glow brighter, and your moans heighten in pitch, while you sink your teeth into the swollen flesh of your lower lip. Above you, Taehyung learns that your mouth is sinful from the way you’re repeating curses and cries like a mantra and from the way drool is dripping down your chin. It’s just how unbelievably rough he’s fucking you, rough enough that you’re convinced there will be bruises all over your body and he’s going to rip you apart. But maybe that’s what you want, maybe that’s exactly what Taehyung intends to do to you.

“Say please.”

He then sits up and leans back to rest on his calves, before he hikes your leg up to rest over his shoulder, effectively folding you into half, and pulls you towards him roughly to fuck into you harder. You keen loudly at the new angle, how he’s able to fuck into you so much deeper, hands clawing at the sheets and dragging long, red marks on his back.

“Please, Taehyung. Please, you fuck me so fucking good.”

He smirks at how helpless you are underneath him and frees his hand from your thigh, reaching to search for yours, intertwining them tightly.

Which each thrust, the both of you grow closer to your impending orgasms, excitement curling in your abdomen along with pleasure that shoots straight to your core as Taehyung continues to pummel into your welcoming heat, strong thighs trembling against the backs of yours.

His other hand rest on your hips as his fingers squeeze and caress your skin each time you curse and whimper his name lasciviously, blending in with the symphony of skin slapping against skin, of his balls and thighs smacking against your ass that stirs the silence.

“I’m on the pill. Cum inside me, please. Want your hot cum in me.”

“Princess wants to be my personal cum-dumpster, doesn’t she?”

Taehyung dips his head over your chest and takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking it lavishly as if the taste of you is suddenly too much to bear. You wail in pleasure, back arched all the way up, the grip on his hand tightening as your hips rise to meet the brutal thrusts of his hips, pleasure shooting white hot to join the heated desire in your core.

That’s all you need to lurch over the edge. The coil within your core suddenly snaps with the tension and then comes the onslaught of immense white-hot pleasure, curling and roaring like a beast in your stomach, the pressure between your legs immeasurably high. You clamp around him one last time, galaxies firing in the murky red of your eyelids as he coaxes you through your orgasm.

You know Taehyung’s close too – now faster, more erratic, as he chases his release relentlessly. For a moment, all you can see is glorious light, blinding your vision until it consumes you whole and you’re shaking ferociously.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when Taehyung comes hard with a harsh shudder and an animalistic growl from between his clenched teeth, thrumming at his warm seed inside you. He isn’t done with you yet though. When he pulls out, the emptying sensation of his cock being drawn out of your walls gives rise to another wail from you, but you forget all over it when he rubs the swollen tip of his dick against your clit in a circular movement, playing to its sensitivity and pushing in his cum inside you again. His personal cum-dumpster.

Taehyung kisses you once more just because he can, and then lets his eyes run over the girl in front of him and his mind goes blank because wow, that actually happened – and it certainly did, evident from the mussed hair, blown hazy pupils, lovebites all over flustered skin and the soft, dreamy smile belonging to a pair of swollen-red lips.

This, Taehyung registers despite the giddy turbulence in his mind, is the most beautiful smile he has ever seen. So unbelievably, heart-wrenchingly beautiful that he can feel something in his chest splinter.

There’s a passing second of staring at each other, your cheek deep in the pillow, his head lulled against the headboard.

Taehyung lets out a chuckle, airy and filled with a rasp of post-sleep that would never come. He moves slowly, creaking the mattress in droning successions as he slips his arm around your waist, dusting little kisses on your nose before bringing up your hand to his lips. You realise that he likes doing that.

He stares at you for a long while, thumb over the back of your hand in tandem with the flick of his eyes, back and forth, between yours.

Even in the dark, Taehyung’s lovely flush is brilliant, otherworldly effervescent.

“You know when you said those things to Yoongi, I knew you said it out of a fit, but I couldn’t help but be upset about it.”

“Tae—”

His lips quirk upward on the edges into something knowing, “Then I realised that this was the first time I was genuinely upset about someone’s opinion about me. I usually don’t care what people think of me. I mean I don’t live to impress them, so this made me realised that I actually care a lot about what you think about me. About how you feel about me, whether I’m just a dumb fuckboy to you or whether you see the real me.”

He presses another kiss to your knuckles and your entire body tingles with warmth, “Then it hit me. That you know, maybe I really, really do have feelings for you and I want you to like me too. Like for real. I know I said that I don’t have the time and energy to deal with feelings. But you… You drive me insane. I used to be cynical about being so vulnerable for someone, and it’s so scary how much you can yearn for someone’s attention and affection. It’s just crazy – the things you do to me.”

As his words spill into the spaces between you, you simmer in the comfortable silence, ignoring the sharp tugs at your heartstrings.

“Never thought I’d live to see this day,” he mumbles, before pressing a kiss to your forehead with an earnestness that heightens the tugs at your heartstrings.

“Talk about character development,” you joke, burying your face in his chest and finding solace in the warmth of the sweet honey gold that he possesses. His hand on your waist begins caressing the small of your back, bringing you closer to him, until his nose is settled in the crook of your neck.

“Looks like my YOLO-ing did me some good,” he whispers into your ear and there’s a resplendent lilt to his voice.

It takes you a while for you to realise that he’s referring to the fake quote you’ve assigned to him.

Taehyung smiles at your deadpan expression and it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. His mouth is pulled into a rectangle and his eyes are curved into crescents. You realise this a long time ago, but you will finally admit to it now – Taehyung is beautiful. He is so beautiful that he could rearrange continent with that smile of his.

When he laughs and the moonlight catches on the flecks of gold in melted brown, that’s when you know that you’re struck with a love the size of the entire galaxy for him. To hell with your past hatred and feud with him, you’re just grateful to have your entire universe lying right beside you, right in this moment, under the burning light of the great, yellow moon that hangs heavy and radiant above the two of you.

that’s it. that’s the mammoth i’ve been brewing over the past few months (and rushing it like mad over the past two weeks)! i wanted to depict tae as accurately as possible so i made sure to include the little tiny details and quirks of his ;; did you know that he was the one who coined the term bread cheeks??? there’s a video of him comparing his cheeks to bread buns and i think that started the entire trend i’m just. i never want tae to be sad he has the purest and biggest heart

thank you so much for reading this and if you enjoyed it, please please hit that like or reblog button or/and hmu in my inbox/dms! ♡ i love receiving asks and messages tho sometimes ;; i just disappear from the face of the earth. i literally post a fic every 6 months sobs but next up sugarplum elegy (and i promise i won’t take another 6 months, my aim to upload it is end june!) love you guys much and remember to take care of yourself – i believe in your galaxy ☁️💫💜💞🌃✨

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trashyswitch · 4 years

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William's Many Secrets

William thought he had done a good job of keeping his secret. But Chris comes downstairs and starts blurting out a letter William had wrote to Henry. This domino-effects into Henry and the kids discovering another secret about Will:

William is STUBBORN AS HELL!

This is gonna be my last fanfic for a good week or so. I am heading off to a beach cottage for summer vacation, and I'm leaving this morning! I will attempt to start another fanfic (because writing fanfics is so fun that I can't just stop for an entire week), but I likely won't upload anything until after next Saturday.

Disclaimer: There is indications of cheating. If you're sensitive to that subject, then...it's not that long...so, read at your own risk.

Other than that: I hope you like this fanfic!

Henry, William and the kids were having another play date together. Charlie was at another friend’s house, so only Henry and his wife could come. While the wives hung out on the back deck, William and Henry hung out in the living room watching TV and drinking a coke each. “Some lady called the pizzeria, asking for a birthday afternoon dedicated to her 9 year old son.” Henry told William.

“Yeah?” William reacted, only partly listening to him.

“You could hear the kid in the background being all whiny. And the moment she mentioned ‘Freddy Fazbear’, you could hear his screams of excitement echoing through the phone.” Henry told him, chuckling at the memory. “The kid wouldn’t shut up after that.” Henry concluded.

“Mm hmm…Don’t blame him.” William said back.

“His party friends are coming this Saturday. I’m gonna need a little help getting the place ready.” Henry told him.

“Let’s worry about that when it gets closer to the date.” William replied.

“What? Not in the mood to talk about work or something?” Henry asked.

William smiled slightly. “Not really, no. I just wanna rest and hang out without us needing to bring up work.” William replied.

“Ooooh...So you’re agreeing with my wife, then?” Henry accused.

William chuckled. “Did your wife tell you to not talk about work when you’re supposed to be relaxing?” William asked.

“Yes.” Henry replied.

“Then yes, I agree with her.” William concluded before taking a drink of his coke.

“Alright. Play it that way. But the moment you forget there’s a kids birthday party happening this Saturday, that’s your fault.” Henry warned him.

“Aww, you meeeaaan.” William whined sarcastically before smirking at him. Henry chuckled at him before giving William a slight push on the shoulder. This caused William’s coke to spill onto his shirt and jeans a little bit. “Hey! Watch what you’re doing, you clumsy elf!” William warned with a laugh before returning the push. Henry ended up getting more coke spilled on himself than William did. So, he pushed him again to make more coke spill. This led to a slight pushing fight to see how much coke could be spilled on the other opponent.

At one point, Henry made the genius mistake of purposefully spilling his coke on William’s pants.

“Oho, that’s it!” William put his coke down and quickly stole Henry’s glasses from his face.

“What- HEY! GIVE THEM BACK!” Henry shouted.

“You gotta catch me first, Devito!” William teased.

“GIVE ME BACK MY GLASSES, YOU BLURRY BOZO!” Henry shouted at him, taking off running after the purple-colored blur.

William laughed and ran into the kitchen before stopping at the counter. “Na na na na na, you can’t see me!” William sing-songed like a child.

Henry, getting more and more fed up with him, stopped in front of William. Just to be even more mean, William put the glasses on to see what he would look like wearing them. But the prescription in the glasses overwhelmed his eyes. “WhOoOoa! Okay! Your eyesight is worse than I thought!” William joked.

“Give them back now, William. No more games.” Henry ordered.

“How do I look?” William asked, striking a pose with the weirdly shaped rectangular glasses.

“You look like a blur of purple.” Henry replied, getting increasingly fed up with him.

“Yeah? And you like a blur of beige...aaaand a little blue.” William replied.

“William, give. Them. Back. You’ll hurt your eyes.” Henry ordered and held his hand out.

“Alright, alright. But can I put them onto your face myself?” William asked.

Henry sighed. “Fine. Just don’t poke me in the eye.” He warned.

“I won’t.” William replied before bringing the glasses closer to his face. William gently started lining up the sides of the glasses with his face, and gently inserted them onto his face. The first thing Henry saw perfectly clear, was William’s gentle face. It was super rare to see William this gentle with him. Henry began to regret the attitude he gave him.

He gave William a smile.

“Daddy! Look what I found!” Chris yelled to his Father and Uncle.

William’s gentle facial expression vanished slightly as he leaned back and looked down upon his youngest. The kid was holding a piece of paper in his hand. “What is it?” William asked.

“It’s a letter! It was in the typewriter upstairs! Dear Henry;” Chris explained before starting to read the letter.

William’s eyes widened. He immediately recognized what this really was! Suddenly scared, William ran up to his kid. “HEY-heeeeyy Chris! Uh- what have I told you about going through people’s stuff?” William asked him.

Chris only ran away from him a good 3 feet and continued reading. “I wanted to tell you this-”

“Chris, no.” William warned.

Chris looked up at his father from the corner of his eye, before smirking and continuing. “-for a while now, but I was too scared to.” Chris read.

William was visibly freaking out. “Chris! Stop! Reading!” William begged before his relationship with Henry was completely blown apart by this freaking letter.

Chris giggled and ran over to Elizabeth, who was standing at the stairs. “Elizabeth! Read this!” Chris ordered, handing Elizabeth the paper and pointing to the line she had to start on.

Elizabeth cleared her throat and smirked when she saw her father all blushy. “My friendship with you has been so amazing. Being able to partner with you to make Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria a success, has been an amazing experience.” Elizabeth read.

William was restless amidst his panicking. “Elizabeth, give me the paper.” William ordered.

Elizabeth only giggled at his attempt. “You’re red like a strawberry!” Elizabeth told him.

William’s eyes widened in horror as he struggled to keep himself calm. “E-Elizabeth...give back...give back my paper. That’s Daddy’s paper.” William attempted.

“Not anymore!” Elizabeth declared before sprinting away. Elizabeth took a shortcut past the other side of the table and headed into the living room. Then, she stopped and continued reading.

“I wish I could tell you in person how much you mean to me. But for now, I must rely on a paper and pencil or a typewriter.” Elizabeth read.

“I SWEAR-” William started to sprint, but was grabbed on the wrist. “Uh- Henry?! Let me go!” William ordered.

“You’re not going anywhere. I wanna hear this.” Henry told him.

Elizabeth continued to read. “This feeling is strange. I can’t describe it. I’ve never felt this way before. Usually when I’m with my wife, I feel like a smooth talker with all the confidence in the world. But when I’m with you, my mind goes blank and I can barely keep myself together.” Elizabeth read.

“Daddy, are you broken?” Chris asked.

William awkwardly tapped his fingers. “IIIIIIII...I don’t...I don’t know. Honest. No idea.” William stuttered.

Elizabeth blinked as she looked at the letter. Then, she gasped! Everything clicked! “YOU’RE IN LOVE!” Elizabeth blurted out.

William took a deep breath, and groaned in pure embarrassment.

“You’re in love! Love love love! You love him! You love Henry! It says so in your letter! ‘I have a crush on you’! You love him!” Elizabeth cheered excitedly, jumping around in front of her father.

William covered his face with his hands and growled into his palms. This was the most embarrassing day of his life. His kids had somehow found his letter, and were now blurting out his most well-kept secret.

“Daddy and Henry, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Chris and Elizabeth taunted loudly.

The worst part was the super wide smile that was peeking through his hands.

Henry walked up to William, still in awe at the crazy confession, and put his hand on his shoulder. “Hey. You okay?” He asked. Henry tried lightly pulling on William’s hand to get his hand off of his face. And the half part of William’s face that he saw, made him literally beam from cuteness:

William’s face was visibly red and a huge toothy smile was present on his face.

“Oh my gosh- Your face is so red!” Henry reacted, unable to handle his personal excitement.

“Ihihi knohohohow...Ihihihit’s teheherriblehehehe…” William whined.

“Awww! Daddy’s all blushy! Daddy is blushy! Daddy is blushy!” Chris teased and poked his Dad’s side.

“Daddy’s in loOoOoOove! He loves Henry!” Elizabeth teased, before squeezing his other side.

“Wahahahait! Guhuhuys!” William giggled.

“Tickle tickle Daddy!” Chris teased. William grabbed his daughter’s hand and allowed Chris to poke his side. The truth was, the poking didn’t really tickle much at all. It was Elizabeth’s squeezing that seemed to surprisingly tickle.

“Awww...it’s not working.” Chris whined.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and tried tickling his side with her other hand. But, this didn’t make William react. It only made him smile in confidence. “What happened?” Elizabeth asked.

“I’m not very ticklish.” William told them.

Henry guffawed. “That’s a load of malarkey!” Henry reacted. “I used to tickle you all the time! And I got plenty of laughs out of you!” Henry reminded him.

“Those-...” William hid his nervousness very well. “That was just pity laughter. Nothing more.” William explained.

“Come on, man! It can’t be! Watch this!” Henry declared confidently before tickling his ribs. But William just sighed and let him try. His face was just monotone as he looked at his kids.

Then, Henry tried tickling the armpits. Other than William’s arm movement to give Henry more access, William wasn’t reacting at all. Chris was eagerly waiting to see if he would double over and laugh, while Elizabeth was going insane with how her father was being as calm as he was!

“Wait...What?” Henry reacted.

Next, Henry tried tickling his sides and his belly. William cleared his throat and just waited for Henry to be done tickling him. “You gotta be kidding me…” Henry muttered, before attempting to squeeze his hips.

William seemed relatively calm and composed. But, there was a slight reaction. And Elizabeth caught it. He widened his eyes and accidentally let a wobbly smile show up on his lips for 2 seconds or less. But he had quickly bit his lip and shoved the reaction down. It was here that Elizabeth realized: there was some lying going on.

Then, Henry finally stopped and crossed his arms. “Alright. I give up on the upper body region. But there’s one more spot I wanna try before I give up completely.” Henry told him. “Please sit down on the chair over here. I wanna test out your feet.” Henry ordered. Henry sat down onto the chair and spread out his arms on the armrest. “Right off the bat:” Henry pulled off one of William’s socks and tried tickling his feet. William didn’t make any reaction, besides the slight eyebrow raise he made in curiosity.

Elizabeth finally decided to confront her father. “Hey Henry: Go back to tickling his hips.” Elizabeth ordered.

Henry turned to look at her. With Henry not looking, William gave Elizabeth the index finger on the mouth to ‘shut your mouth’.

“Really? Why?” Henry asked.

“Because he smiled!” Elizabeth declared.

William narrowed his eyes and gave Elizabeth a ‘you evil’ kind of frown before resuming his normal look. “What smile? I didn’t smile.” William denied.

“Yes you did! And you just told me to be quiet!” Elizabeth told him as well.

Henry sighed and looked at Chris. “Did you see any of this?” Henry asked. William shot Elizabeth a look. He pointed at Elizabeth, before swinging his hand across the front of his neck, to say ‘you’re dead’.

“Yup. I saw the quiet thing, and I just saw Dad tell Elizabeth that she’s gonna die.” Chris told Henry.

Henry looked at William. “I think the person who’s gonna die here, is you.” Henry told him before lifting him up.

Henry stood his friend back up and started tickling his hips again. William squeezed his eyes shut this time, and started slightly squirming while attempting to push Henry’s hands off. But this only led to Henry tickling his sides instead! William turned himself to the side and widened his eyes. Scared a laugh would come out, William covered his mouth for a moment before attempting to reach back and stop him. But this just led to Henry digging his wiggly fingers into William’s armpits!

This time, William yelped and jolted before increasing his squirming dramatically! Henry began to grow more and more confident in his abilities. So, he pushed William’s knees down so he was kneeling down. “Quick kids! Tickle different spots on his body! And whatever you do: keep! Switching! Spots!” Henry ordered.

The kids didn’t waste any time! They ran up to William and tickled his belly, tickled his sides, tickled the front of his ribs, and tickled his exposed feet! Chris even tried tickling the lower part of his back while Elizabeth tried tickling his hips again. While the lower back was somewhat effective, the hips made the man double over for a couple seconds! To make things worse, the kids were teasing him and mentioning his darkening blush CONSTANTLY!

William was getting closer and closer to bursting. He had developed a wobbly smile that just couldn’t go away, and he was wiggling and squirming around like a skittish cat!

“Okay. Keep going...keeeeep going…” Henry encouraged.

“Why? What are you gonna do?” Elizabeth asked.

“You’ll find out very veeeeerrry-” Henry teased. Suddenly, Henry took in a quick deep breath and blew a gigantic raspberry on his neck!

“aaAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! HEHEHEHENRYHYHYHYHY DOHOHOHOHON’T!” William screamed before finally breaking.

“You did it!” Elizabeth yelled.

Henry, feeling proud of himself, let William go and allowed him to just tumble his giggly body onto the ground. “Aaaaand there he goes. Get ’em kids!” Henry declared.

Elizabeth and Chris both let out big war cries and started tickling absolutely everywhere they could reach! “HehehEHEHEHEY! NOHOHO FAHAHAHAHAIR!” William yelled at them. William helplessly turned onto his back and struggled to fight the kids without hurting them.

“Ohohoho! No fair?! No FAIR?! Did I just hear that right?! You just earned yourself another tickler!” Henry declared, pulling his sleeves up with an evil smirk on his face.

“Nohohoho! NOHO! NO, DON’T EVEN THIHINK AHABOHOUT IHIT! WAHAHAIT- NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! DAHAHAHAHAHAMMIHIHIHIHIHIT!” William threw his head back and laughed hysterically! Henry was squeezing his hips like his life depended on it!

On top of that, Elizabeth had finished tickling his ribs and side, and had ran over to his lower body to tickle his feet. The moment she started scratching his left arch and heel, William squealed and pulled his foot away. “Ticklish feet, Daddy?” Elizabeth asked as she tickled the right foot next.

“PLEHEHEHEAHASE DOHOHOHON’T! IHIHIHI’M BEHEHEHEGGIHIHING YOHOHOHOU!” William pleaded.

“Wow! You’re actually begging us?! Are you really that ticklish?!” Henry exclaimed. “If that’s the case, then how in the world did you keep yourself from laughing before?!” Henry asked.

“Maybe Daddy needs more people to tickle him!” Elizabeth guessed as she sat on William’s lower legs.

“Maybe so.” Henry replied, keeping that in mind before lessening his fingers.

William did get a moment to breath slightly, but his breathing didn’t last long before he was thrown into another wicked fit of laughter. “ELIHIHIZABEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHO FEEEHEHEHEHEHEHET!” William squealed.

“He has ticklish toes!” Elizabeth reacted.

“Awww! Does poor widdle Willy have ticklish toesies?” Henry teased.

Chris paused his tickling for a moment and giggled. “You sound like an anime girl.” Chris joked to Henry.

“I do?! No no no, I’m just teasing him.” Henry explained.

“NOHOHO IHIHI DOHOHOHON’T! NOHOHOHO TOHOHOHOES!” William yelled back.

“Oh! Even after all this tickling, you’re going to deny being ticklish on your toes?! Tickle him.” Henry told Elizabeth.

“Way ahead of you.” Elizabeth told him while tickling the balls of his feet and under all 10 of his toes. “Kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy koo! Who’s a ticklish Daddy? Who’s a love-struck Daddy?” Elizabeth teased.

“STAHAHAHAHAHAP! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! EHEHEHEVIHIHIL! EHEHEHEHEHEVIHIHIHIHIL!” William shouted at them.

“What in the world is all the rack-” someone asked, before widening their eyes at the sight.

“Michael!” Chris shouted, pausing his tickling before running up and hugging his big brother.

“Hihi Chris!” He said back. “Tickling Dad, I see?” Michael teased. Chris whispered something into Michael’s ear, causing Michael’s eyes to widen and for a big smile to show up on his lips. “You’re a genius! Let’s go get it!” Michael declared before running into the kitchen with Chris in his hands.

“Well, there goes one tickler.” Elizabeth said.

“Let’s give your papa here, a break.” Henry suggested. He removed his hands from his armpits and looked at William upside down. “You okay, Mr. Giggles?” Henry asked.

William chuckled at the nickname. “You...are so…*huff* getting it...when...I can...breath. Again.” William warned him.

Henry smirked at the slight threat. “You know you’re just asking for it, right?” Henry told him.

“Asking for what?...A kiss?” William teased.

Henry raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Well...later. But for now: More tickles!” Henry teased before tickling his armpits and upper ribs.

“NahAHAHA! Cohohohome ohohohon!” William laughed, pushing him away.

“Nope! Can’t stop me that easily!” Henry grabbed Elizabeth and held her out to him. “I have a mini tickle monster, and I’m not afraid to use her!” Henry warned.

Elizabeth giggled before showing off her ‘claws’ and saying “Rawr!” at him.

“Aww, come on! I come out with a camera, and you choose to stop?!” Michael reacted.

Henry decided to unleash the tickle monster to see what she would do. Unsurprisingly, Elizabeth crawled all over William and started squeezing his hips, tickling his belly, squeezing his sides, and even tickling his ribs. “Hahahaha! Mihihichahahael! Tuhurn thahahat ohohohoff!” William told him, lifting his arms up to try and reach the camera.

Henry, taking advantage of the moment, wiggled his fingers in his armpits. “Gotcha, Will!” Henry said quickly.

“NohohOHOHOHO! HAHAHAHAHA! HEHEHENRYHY NOHOHOHO!” William laughed.

“Awww, poor Dad! He’s getting recorded against his will! Whatever will the ticklish man do?” Michael narrated.

“IHIHI’M GOHOHOING TOHO KIHIHIHILL YOHOHOHOU FOHOHOR RECOHOHORDIHING THIHIHIS!” William warned.

“That’s rude. Maybe a blow on your tummy will help?” Elizabeth asked. Then, Elizabeth blew a BIG raspberry right on her father’s belly.

“oHOHOHOHO JEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” William shouted and wiggled like the world depended on it.

“WOW! You nailed that perfectly!” Michael reacted.

“Oh! And by the way, Elizabeth: that’s called a raspberry.” Henry told her.

“A raspberry?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yup! Lay down.” Henry told her. As soon as she laid down, Henry lifted up her shirt and blew a raspberry on her belly next.

“EEEEHEHEHEHEHEHE!” Elizabeth giggled gleefully.

“And THAT is a big boy raspberry.” Henry told the camera.

“Do it on Daddy!” Chris told him.

William’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. “NO!” William warned.

“Oh! That’s not a bad idea!” Henry muttered.

“NO.” William warned a second time as he sat up and put a warning finger up.

“Lay yourself down.” Henry declared, pushing William back onto his back. “And let a pro handle this.” Henry said confidently.

“I’ll sit on his arm!” Elizabeth declared, before sitting herself on William’s left wrist.

William yelped. “Elizabeth! Get off!” William begged nervously. He tugged at his wrist, with zero success. He attempted to cover up his stomach with his right hand, but Henry had grabbed the wrist and held it aside.

“One…” He counted.

William gulped and widened his eyes as Henry wiped off Elizabeth’s slobber with Will’s own shirt.

“Two…” Henry counted.

Henry lifted up his shirt with a big smirk on his face.

“Three!” Henry took a deep breath, and blew a BIG raspberry onto his bare belly!

“NAHAHAHAAAAA! IHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAN’T BREHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” William screamed.

Suddenly, his laughter went silent. It was here that Henry decided to cover Will’s belly and help him out. With Elizabeth out of the way, Henry lifted him up a bit and leaned him against the bottom of the couch. “I didn’t kill you, did I?” Henry asked.

William could barely speak. So, he nodded his head.

Henry chuckled and put his ear against his chest to feel his heartbeat. William, surprised by this gesture, immediately felt his face turn a scarlet red.

“Awwww!” Elizabeth cooed.

Michael lowered the camera and revealed his wide eyes and his dropped jaw. Hold up...does his father...have a thing for Henry?! Since when?!

Henry moved his head away from William again with a smile. “I can hear a heartbeat, so you must be alive.” Henry teased.

“R-Really?...That’sgood. That’s...very good.” William said, unsure of what to say at that point.

Elizabeth was clapping her hands and looking like an awestruck fangirl, while Chris was just watching in curiosity.

But Michael...was confused. Almost...hurt, but not hurt at the same time. The idea and the proof seemed to conflict him. Was his father bisexual? Wasn’t that considered a bad thing? If that’s the case, then why is his father one of them? And how did Henry feel about it? Was...was Henry bisexual as well?!

“Noooow KISS!” Elizabeth declared.

Michael jolted at the sudden declaration. Hold up, WHAT?! “Elizabeth!” Michael yelled at her.

“What? It’s true love!” Elizabeth told him.

“If that’s true love, then what was Mom and Dad?” Michael asked.

Elizabeth looked at Michael with confusion, before she gasped and looked at them. She didn’t even think about that!

William looked at Michael with a genuine guilty face. “Michael’s right. I can’t date anyone. I already chose the love of my life, and that’s your Mom.” William told Elizabeth.

Now it was Elizabeth’s turn to be conflicted. “But...But the…”

“Elizabeth...come here.” William told her. She walked up to her father and sat down beside him. He wrapped his arm around her. “We may not have a love relationship. But, we have the next best thing: an amazing friendship. If you wanna tell us to keep our friendship, then that would be amazing. But please...leave the kisses out of our friendship.” William told her. Elizabeth sighed, but nodded. “Okay.” She said.

“Don’t worry Elizabeth. Best friends can still have loads of fun.” William told her.

“Like tickling?” Elizabeth asked with a smile.

William nodded and gave her side a couple light tweaks. “Like tickling.” William replied.

Elizabeth giggled and smiled before getting up and running up to Michael. “Your turn Michael!” Elizabeth yelled, before tickling the back of his knees.

“HehEHEHEY! IHIHI’M HOHOLDIHING AHAHA CAHAHAMEHEHERA!” Michael laughed and ran away. Michael leaned over the couch and placed the camera on there, before he laid himself onto the ground.

“TICKLE PILE!” Chris declared as he ran to Michael.

While Michael was getting doggy piled and tickled by his siblings, William and Henry walked away from the living room.

Henry grabbed William’s hand and put a finger on Will’s lips. “Let’s take a detour.” Henry whispered. He walked William over to the nearby storage closet in the Afton house, and closed the door behind them. The moment the door was closed, William and Henry made every moment count. Henry treated William like the greatest treasure he has ever held in his grasp. They kissed, they touched, they made love, and they did it all in a matter of minutes. The world seemed to slow down for the two of them. And right before they opened up the closet door…William whispered this:

“Are you free this Saturday, after the birthday party?”

#five nights at freddy's #william afton x henry emily #love confessions #friendship/love #ticklefic #lee!william #ler!henry #ler!chris #switch!elizabeth

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loudsuitlover · 4 years

Text

Doctor Harry XVI. La vereda de la puerta de atrás

A/N: Finally we know what happened to Harry! I’m excited for you guys to read this, let me know what you think :)

INDIE’S POV

I can barely make it to my room. It surprises me how many tears we can make without drying ourselves. I started crying the second I got away from Harry’s house and I cried all the way to my house in the taxi and still I’m not done.

I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why in the world I thought it would be okay if I just talked about that but the fact that Harry’s friend collaborated on the association and the way he said “it was their son, right?”

It wasn’t just their son. It was Dylan and Dylan was everything. Dylan made me play piano every day, Dylan would come over to my house just to see me for 5 minutes even if he lived 40 minutes away, Dylan showed me the best sunset I have yet seen. And Dylan was also a musician and he was a friend and, yes, he was a son, and a boyfriend and a grandson.

He was my first love and I swore he would be the last because there’s just no other way. He was half of me, it’s as simple as that. We were connected and we still are and we will always be because that’s just what it is when you find the one. I know most people don’t even find them, most people search their entire lives to find what I had with Dylan and still never find it so I should be thankful because it’s better to have loved and lost than to haven’t loved at all; but it’s just so hard…

I lie on my side on my bed and let the tears soak my pillow. I can’t push the memories away now. I opened the dam and now everything is coming out and choking me. I remember my Mum knocking on my bedroom door, the way she looked, I’ll always remember the way she looked. And my screams, tearing my throat up, and her small arms trying to hold me as I yelled and fought. I remember the sirens and then the hospital and Dylan’s mother’s face and how my hands trembled.

I don’t even know how in the midst of all the horror I’ve fallen asleep but the vibration of my phone against the mattress wakes me up. I bring it to my ear without checking the caller ID.

“Indie, thank God!” Harry’s loud voice pierces my ear.

“What is it?” My voice is hoarse after the sleep and the crying.

“What happened?” He asked. “The doorman told me you were crying. It’s the first time he tells me something like that.”

“Well it must have shocked him, I’m sure the rest of Med students that leave your apartment leave with a big smile and freshly fucked.” I regret my words as soon as I say them. “Sorry, that is none of my business.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Nothing.”

“What happened, Indie? Were you crying for something I said or didn’t say or-”

“No” I cut him off before he keeps messing up “it has nothing to do with you. It’s just… I cry every time I talk about him. I don’t like talking about what happened.”

Harry sighs.

“Yeah, I understand…” He doesn’t. “It’s the same for me…”

“What?”

“Listen, baby, I gotta go but… Uh… I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

Tomorrow night? He’s crazy.

“I can’t.” I lie.

“Tomorrow is Sunday, baby…”

“I have plans.”

He sighs.

“Indie, I-”

“It’s true.” I lie. “I’m not like you, I do have a life.”

“Wow.”

My eyes fill with tears again. I am a horrible person. I don’t even know why I said that to him but I can’t even speak now, my throat is completely closed. How could I throw that in his face after what he told me? I deserve all the bad things that could happen to me.

“Call me when you’re not mad anymore so we can talk.”

He hangs up. The distress hits me harder, it wraps around my chest and presses down and I feel like it’s going to collapse but I don’t even care if I stopped breathing.

Whenever I think of him, it’s like it’s happening all over again, like I never did all that progress, like I never went to therapy or like it’s the first time this is hitting me. But it’s not; and I know what I have to do. I can’t be alone or I would go down the same old dark road again and I don’t want that. I can’t endure that same old story.

Jason appears on my door not half an hour later. This reminds me so much of those months too but somehow instead of a trigger is comforting because he was there for me then and he’s here for me now and he’ll be here if I need him tomorrow and his hug always feels like the world can’t touch me if his arms are around me. I start crying again.

It's not as catastrophic as it was before but the quietness only makes it even harder. My heart is breaking all over again and now it’s doing it silently. Frustration is added to the pain because I don’t want to stay always stuck here. I want to move on and be able to talk about Dylan without wanting to die myself and instead here I am, on a cocoon on Jason’s arms as I silently cry on the couch.

I tilt my neck when I wake up for the third time today and find Jason with a deep frown and lips on a thin line. I look away from him and pout like a little girl. Of course he’s still mad at me. This doesn’t change what I said to him.

“How did he find out?” He asks instead. “Did you tell him?”

I nod and feel his hand on the low of my back as he shifts closer to me.

“A friend of his collaborates with Dylan’s organisation and… He asked about him.”

“Harry did?”

“No, his friend. Harry didn’t know anything until this morning…”

Jason hums. His hand keeps drawing figures on my back so I dare to look at him again.

“Are you still mad at me?” I whisper as if I was afraid he would hear me and then say yes.

His eyes bore into mine.

“Do you really want to talk about this now?”

“So yes.” I look ahead but from the corner of my eye I can still feel his eyes fixed on me. “You can leave if you want.”

“I also didn’t have to come if I didn’t want to.” He points out. “But I still came because I love you.” He sighs. “Listen, I wish you would keep your opinion about my relationship to yourself but I talked to Marie and I know where you’re coming from. I know you mean well, Indie, and that you’re just worried about me but I respect you and the only thing I ask is for you to do the same.”

Oh, God, I don’t want to cry again.

“You’re right, J. I’m a terrible person and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you or disrespect you. I love you so much.” The tears win the battle as they roll down my cheeks. “You’re… You’re still one of the few people that actually put up with me and… I know I’m… Not making it easy for anyone but” I sob “I really do need you all. I feel so alone, J.”

His muscled arms wrap around me as he pulls me to him.

“You’re not alone, Indie.” His voice cracks. “You’ve got us, we’ll always be here for you, and you’ve got your family. You’ll never be alone, Indie-pixie. And about me putting up with you, I never want to hear you say that bullshit again, do you hear me? I’m fucking lucky to have you. Anyone who has you in their life is.” He presses a kiss on my hair line. “You take care of me and I know no matter what I can always count on you and I fucking love you, okay? We all do.”

“I love you too.”

“Good.” He puff a laugh. “Now let’s go eat something, I’m starving.”

I’m not but I go with him to my kitchen and watch him cook pasta for the two of us. If Dylan was here he’d force me to eat. He always did that but I always dismissed him. I’ve never had any eating problem, it’s just that Dylan thought I ate so little because he ate like some hungry lion all the time and for some reason he thought I should eat like him. He loved my mum’s cooking.

I remember back in Capitol in my house, which now is my dad’s house, we had this huge kitchen with huge glass windows that looked at my mum’s garden and I remember right before we started dating we would do our homework on the kitchen while she cooked and Dylan would be the taster of everything.

I imagine I would try to cook Spanish food for him now. He would like that I took up cooking, that’s for sure, and I’m sure he’d like everything I made too. But I’ll never know because he’s gone and he’ll never come back.

It was so hard to be in that kitchen or in that dining room or even in my room. I can barely sleep there. Everything at Capitol reminds me of him and that’s why it’s just so hard to visit my dad.

Jason sets a plate of pasta in front of me and I grab the fork even if I couldn’t eat if I tried.

“What did you guys do last night?” I try to divert my thoughts from Dylan to literally anywhere else.

“We had dinner at my place and then we went to Loft 39.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Yes, but it would have been better with you.”

I smile even though I doubt it.

“How’s Ollie?”

“Lost.” Jason shrugs. “She told me what she did to Mario and you’re right, it is nasty.”

“I talked to him last night, he was at Elvis Buchanan’s birthday and I think he’s falling for her…”

“Who the hell is Elvis Buchanan?” He frowns and I chuckle.

“He’s a guy.” I shrug. “He’s nice.”

His eyes look up from his plate to mine.

“How are things with Harry?”

I shrug. Well, the other night he cried on my bed and last night he told me to get my own blanket if I was cold but after that we spooned and he ate me out this morning. So I have no idea.

“What do you think?” I ask him instead “You know, about Harry and me?”

“What’s there to think?”

I shrug.

“I don’t know… I mean… Do you think he’s using me?”

“Do you?”

I shrug.

“Where is this coming from, Indie?”

“It’s just… This morning he talked to this friend and when he asked him who I was he said I was a Med student.”

Jason’s eyes narrow.

“And you are.”

“Yes, but… Is that what I am to him? A Med student?”

“Well, what is he to you?”

I’m struck dumb.

“A friend.” I tell him.

He nods.

“Well, I’m guessing he was just trying to establish you, I guess. I mean what else could he say? It’s how you met after all.”

I don’t want to keep talking about it, especially having Dylan’s smile on my mind so I look away from him and nibble some on my past at the risk of throwing up.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He asks.

I guess that’s a way of taking my mind off. We play Failure to Launch but I fall asleep soon after Sarah Jessica Parker shows up. Grieving is really exhausting.

“Indie”

Warm hands lightly shake my arms and I blink.

“Dylan?”

“No, it’s Jason.”

I rub my eyes and see Jason looking at me with sorrowful eyes.

I feel my heart crashing on my chest. I haven’t seen a single photo of Dylan since his funeral. I can’t. But it’s heart-breaking to realize how hard it is for me to remember his face now. I know the colour of his eyes, and I can fantasize about his smile but if I close my eyes and try to see his entire face, I just… It’s not like a picture.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

Jason walks me to bed and lies down next to me before he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to him.

Had I been with Harry, he wouldn’t have woken me up to take me to bed. Instead, he would have picked me up like a kid and take me to bed himself. I don’t know why I just thought about that.

Jason’s fast asleep but I lie wide awake on the mattress. Of course I would do that, I’d fall asleep at any random moment and then stay up for the rest of the night. As much as I try to fall asleep it’s impossible and I wonder if this is how Harry feels when he can’t sleep too. No wonder he was harsh to me, this is terrible.

I haven’t gotten anything from him all day after our talk on the phone. Not that it surprises me after what I told him, but I still wonder how he’s doing. I wish I could talk to my therapist right now. Well, I don’t, because I know what she’s going to say and I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to fight her again, but I guess I want to know what I’m thinking and I know it sounds silly to say that but I need help figuring that out.

I remember when Dylan passed away I had this feeling in my chest and my belly and I thought I had asthma but it was none of that, it was just anguish and the thing was I couldn’t put my finger on it to the point where I just thought I was sick on my lungs and not on my mind. Even after therapy though, sometimes it’s hard for me to kind of know what I’m feeling.

I need to get out of bed. I’m driving myself crazy and, since Harry’s not around, the only other thing that manages to take my mind off, is downstairs so I try not to wake Jason up as I make my way to the reading room. When I slide the door opened, I entertain my eyes with the moonlight hitting the piano and without thinking, I sit on the stool and lift up the black lid so the keys are exposed to me.

I run my fingers through them, I haven’t played in three years. I’m not even sure I’m going to remember how to play but my fingers seem to remember Beethoven’s Moonlight sonata even before my mind does.

I’m not me anymore, I’m a part of a bigger thing, I’m a part of what’s playing and it surprises me to realize before I met Harry, I had resigned from feeling this way, from not thinking and just being but after I met Harry or since I know Harry, this is how he makes me feel. He makes me feel like music does.

It scares me because I know everything would be less painful if he was here now, if he was sitting down on one of the reading chairs listening to my sonata before he stood up and took me bare. But he is not and he won’t be here because it’s just sex between us.

I look ahead when I finish the piece and find a flabbergasted Jason staring at me with his lips parted. I look down, embarrassed.

“That was beautiful, Indie.”

“It wasn’t.” I complain. “It was sad.”

“It was sad and beautiful.”

I don’t understand how something can be sad and beautiful but I’ll let it go. I know Jason’s tired and I should try to get some sleep too.

“That was the first time I played since Dylan died.” I say. “Do you think I’m betraying him?”

Jason’s eyes hold mine for the longest minute. I don’t expect what he says.

“He’d like him.”

HARRY’S POV

It’s been a chill Monday. I’ve only had two surgeries and two hours of office so I’ve been able to work on my patients’ record a lot but it’s been hard to focus.

Family weekends always drain me, especially when it’s not my plan so I didn’t have time to prepare, not that I prepare very well anyway and to make things worse, Indie hasn’t contacted me yet.

I know I should give her time and space and all that shit but I’m tired of this back and forth with her. I don’t even know why but I have this need to make sure she’s okay and I just don’t want her to be in pain. It’s as simple as that. And knowing she’s gone through that… I guess it just explains a lot of things.

And I know I don’t deserve her, I don’t deserve any of this but… I’m starting to think maybe I don’t have to… Be alone all the time. She doesn’t want anything other than the physical relationship we have from me and that’s good, that’s safe; but it doesn’t mean I don’t worry about her. I never thought someone like her was going to show up and just change everything but for the first time since it happened, I actually want to tell somebody about it. I want to tell her. Yet I don’t know how… Because for all I know she might just storm out of the room- the girl has a temper- or tell me she’s not an ONG or something like that but… I just think if I can get her understanding I might forgive myself and I’m starting to think she might need me too.

Harry: Are you at uni?

I know she is because she was driving herself crazy when she had to miss lectures because she was sick so I don’t think she’d skip a lecture for any other reason. I think it’s cute that she’s such a psycho. She gives me a hard time over the amount of hours I work but I’m pretty sure I won’t see her face at all during finals.

Indie: Yes.

Harry: At the lectures hall?

Indie: Yes

Indie: What do you want?

Harry: I’m picking you up

Indie: What?

Indie: No!

Harry: Why not?

Indie: I’m going shopping with Marie.

Harry: Well, go some other day.

Indie: No, I’ll see you some other day.

Harry: Please, love.

Indie: I said no but don’t worry I’m sure you can find some other Med student to fuck.

I hate it when she says that. It’s none of her business like she keeps saying but she really does get on my nerves when she acts like that. The only reason I was seeing other people is because she said we were “just sex”.

Anyway, I’m picking her up. I’ll drive her and Marie to the shops if that’s what I need to do to be able to talk to her. She can’t just act as if she cared and then shut me out and push me away whenever she feels like it.

I am leaning against the bars where the students lock their bikes when I see her walking out of the lectures hall holding a folder against her chest. She frowns and pouts like a mad little girl when she spots me and I know it shouldn’t be funny to me but I just think it’s so cute that her face is so giving. She stops in front of me and doesn’t stop frowning but I’m grinning at her. She’s hilarious.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You gave me no other choice.” I shrug.

“Yes, you could have waited for tomorrow.” She whispers through clenched teeth.

“You would have given me another excuse.” We both know that.

“Why are you smiling? Do you think this is funny?”

“Sort of.” I admit. “I mean, I’m not fully sure why you’re mad.”

“Anyone could see you here.” She looks at both her flanks.

“Indie, I work here. It’s not strange for anyone to see me here.”

“Yes, but talking to me?”

Her words sting but I don’t let her see that.

“I told you I can’t meet you today.”

“Yes, because you were going shopping with Marie who is nowhere to be found.”

“We’re meeting at the shops.”

“Okay, well, I’ll drive you.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“I just want to talk.”

She studies my face. Her hair is tied up on a long braid that falls on her back but some thin locks have fallen out of it and dance over her face. I want to tuck them behind her ear but I don’t. I need to stop doing that sort of things. She sighes, she’s going to say yes.

“Okay.”

I smile and walk towards my car and she adjust her bag on her shoulder before she starts walking next to me. She is texting someone and my hands seem to have a mind of their own because they hold her waist as we walk down the kerb towards the parking lot, afraid that she might not see it and stumble. Her body tenses up, she’s just as surprised as I am.

The drive is silence because she’s still texting whoever it is she’s talking to and I take the time to arrange my thoughts. I’ve never actually told anyone about this. Those who know know because they’re a part of the story one way or another but I’ve never sat in front of a third person and told them about the accident.

When I pull over at the shops parking lot, Indie unfastens her seat belt but waits for me to say something. She’s nervous and she’s probably uncomfortable too but I don’t want to do this here.

“Should we have a cup of coffee?” I offer.

She weighs her options. I don’t think she knows I’d do whatever she asks me to but she nods. I wait for her in order to walk side by side to the nearest café we can find and I dare to place a hand on her lower back as I gently guide her to one of the tables. She’s scolded me before about me not touching her in public and even though she just fought me for showing up at the lectures hall, I think she doesn’t mind the contact when we’re not in the hospital.

We take a seat on one of the tables near the far window. Through the window we can see the road, there’s a narrow pavement between the café and the road, but not many people pass by. It’s too cold for walks already so all we see is cars driving by. When a person walks by though, I see the fog coming out of their mouths as they breathe. It makes our spot cosier since warmth is not something you can see, but; likewise everything, it’s something you can feel better when you’re face to face with its absence.

Indie looks incredible, as usual. I love how pink looks on her and how cosy she looks on her winter clothes. Her hazel eyes bore into mine like she was a deer and I was the spotlight and I don’t know why all of a sudden she’s giving me that look. That’s the look she gives me on the bedroom too.

“How are you?” I start.

“Good.” She shakes.

Am I making her this nervous? I’m the one who’s nervous… Maybe I’m passing it on her. But she just looks so good and soft and fragile… I don’t want to say something that would somehow hurt her. I feel my heart beating fast and hard against my ribs. I’ve never been more afraid of anything on my life but I don’t want her to blame me and I’m afraid she will.

“Are you nervous?”

“No” she shakes her head “I’m just cold.”

“Do you want my jacket?”

I start taking it off before she can answer but she stops me by lifting her hands in the air.

“No, I’ve got my own coat. You’ll freeze.”

“I’m not cold, baby.”

I lend her my jacket and she covers her shoulders with it before she tucks her hands between her thighs trying to warm up. I order two cups of coffee and stare at her.

“You’re always cold.”

It’s true. She always shakes when she ends up alone in the bed because she moves around a lot and unlike me, her hands and her arms are always cold too. She nods and gives me a knowing smile.

“Are you still mad at me?”

She shakes her head. Good. I won’t ask why she was mad in case that makes her mad again. Plus, I’m about to tell her a very intimate part of me. I need her to be on my side.

“And sad?”

Her big eyes look down to the table. The waiter places our two cups on the table and her fingers break the wrapper of a sugar package before she adds some sugar to her coffee.

“I know you are, Indie.” She stirs the coffee. “And I understand.”

The repetitive movement of her hand stops and my heart follows suit when she looks up at me. I’ve never seen her like this before and I wish I could take her pain away but for the first time I don’t feel like she’s better than me. I don’t see her like this girl who takes care of everyone, drinks gin and doesn’t let you get too close. She’s vulnerable and she needs me too.

“I didn’t like that you dropped that bomb like that and just left as if we were strangers but that was not about me, I take it. And after the way you talked to me on the phone, I understood you didn’t want to see me or talk to me and I’ve respected that but-”

“Why did you say you understand?” Her eyes bore into mine and my breath catches on my throat. “You said that that day and you’ve said that now.”

I take a deep breath. Here we go…

“My sister had a car accident when she was twenty-two years old. I know it’s not the same, because she didn’t die, but… She almost did.” My voice croaks but the way she’s looking at me, with brown eyes wide opened and her full lips shut makes me go on. “Uh, she was in a coma for 5 days and… We didn’t know if she was… Going to make it. She did but… Uh… She can’t walk.”

Indie places her hand over mine and only then I realize I’m shaking. She intertwines our fingers and I stare at out hands. Her skin is so much tanner than mine and so much softer too.

“I’m very sorry, Harry.”

How can she be sorry? Her boyfriend died on a car accident. This is not the same… Yet it’s still hard.

“She was pregnant.”

Indie’s eyes sadden further and her grip on my hand tightens. I can’t tell her.

“The baby died on her womb and it teared in the accident so they had to remove it in surgery so… Uh, she can’t carry babies now.”

“Shit.”

“I didn’t help her or anyone at all. I just… I couldn’t. Even now I can’t even look at her without feeling so terrible.” I confess. “And I know she doesn’t want that, she doesn’t need that; but I just… Can’t overcome that, I guess. So… It’s always very hard for me to see her and that obviously has driven me away from my family.”

Indie nods. I guess she doesn’t know what to say to me.

“Is that why you started working so hard?” Her voice comes out in a thin whisper. “You told me you kind of buried yourself in work… Is that why? So that you wouldn’t think about it?”

I nod.

“I was eighteen when that happened and I think that’s the reason why I decided to become a doctor. My sister spent the entire summer in the hospital, you know, learning how to… Be, I guess and after I went to uni and… Everyone was like going out and having fun and meeting new people and falling in love but I just… Was not in that point in my life so I didn’t really make many friends, also because I wouldn’t let many people in and… Yeah, I guess I just started studying a lot and afterwards working a lot.”

“Do you not see your family at all anymore?”

“No, I do.” I nod. “I visit them every once in a while. They were here yesterday and the day before, that’s why I didn’t, uh, I don’t know contact you to try to comfort you even though I don’t think I would have been successful.”

I give her a sad smile that she reciprocates.

“Is that why you can’t sleep?”

Kind of. I nod. I lick my lips before I bring my cup to my lips and take a sip.

“You didn’t have to tell me about this so thank you.” She gives me a sad smile.

“I wanted to.” I confess. “I wanted you to know that you’re not alone and that you can talk to me if you ever… I don’t know.” I smile at her.

“Thank you.” She has a sip of her coffee before she takes a deep breath. “I never really talk about it or him.” Her dark eyebrows lower on her forehead. “I… I… I don’t like how it makes me feel.”

I hold her hand and bring it to my mouth, kissing her skin as she stares at me with a surprised expression. I’m surprised too. I don’t know what I’m doing.

“You don’t have to.” I shrug, trying to dismiss how I just crossed the line. “I just want you to know that if you ever want to or need to, you can tell me.”

“Okay.” She smiles. “But I’m better now anyway.”

“Good.” I rub my hands together as I give her a smile. “Then what do you feel like doing now?”

She chuckles.

“Going shopping with Marie like I told you.”

Oh, so she wasn’t lying.

“Can I go with you and give you girls my opinion on the changing room?”

“Of course not.”

I click my tongue and make a grimace of disappointment that has her chuckling again.

“It was worth a shot.” She agrees making me laugh.

But now I can’t take the image of her perfect body trying on lingerie out of my head. I imagine the way the soft lace would rest on top of her skin because she always wears clothes that fit her perfectly without being tight and that always drives me mad. How easy it is to just slip her panties down her soft legs…

“Don’t go shopping, Indie.”

She frowns. This is insane, how she unwillingly and unknowingly controls my emotions giving me the mood swings of a pregnant woman. She’s driving me crazy for real.

“Don’t you want to show me the underwear you’re wearing now?”

Her eyes widen but don’t leave mine so I smile mischievously. I know her better than she’d like and I know she likes it when I talk dirty to her. It’s like everything we’ve talked about before this, as serious as it was, is not on our minds anymore. It’s hard to think of anything other than her when she’s right in front of me, giving me her attention like she is now, looking at me and listening to me and just being here. I want to be closer to her.

“Do you not want my mouth on you, baby?” I lick my lips and watch her cheeks tinging pink. “Do you want to know what I want?”

Her lips part but instead of answering she takes air in. I don’t need her to say yes for me to know she does want to. She always does.

“I want to put your perfect ass against my kitchen counter and eat you out like you deserve, love.”

Her juicy mouth parts and I feel my dick hardening. She’s so easy, she’s as horny as I am.

“And then I’d fuck you onto the counter until your ass goes numb. Look at you, you’re blushing.” I grin. “It never fails to surprise me how shy you seem to be out of bed and how dirty you are in it.”

“Maybe I’m the perfect example of a lady out and a slut in.”

If she had said that any other way, I would have played along but the way she lifted her chin and clenched her jaw gives her away.

“Indie, you’re not a slut.” She rolls her eyes. “Why? Because you like sex? That doesn’t make you a slut, baby, it makes you a human.”

My hand reaches for her braid and I twirl a finger around it before I grip it between my fingers and gently pull from it bringing her face closer to mine until our lips are inches away.

“I like it” I tell her “that you’re free and you know what you want, it’s fucking sexy, baby.”

I press my lips against hers before she can reprimand me for the PDA and I feel her breath against my mouth as she takes the kiss. It takes her a few seconds to reciprocate but I smile when she bites my bottom lip. I bet she’s shutting her thighs together but before I can check that with my own hand underneath the table, her phone rings and she pulls apart.

“Hi, Marie.” She gives me a death glare as she wipes my saliva from her lips. “I’m having a cup of coffee on” she tilts her neck searching for the name of the cafeteria “on Sionpa, it’s right next to the- oh, right, yeah, yeah, that’s the one but don’t” she all but yells “worry, I can, I’ll go out. There’s no need for you to come all the way here. See you in a second.”

The things she would say not to have her friends see me. I smile as she leaves a bill on the table.

“Here, I’ve got your coffee too.” She says.

“Thank you.”

Her eyes narrow. I know she was expecting a bit of resistance on my part but I know she doesn’t like it when I don’t let her pay so she won’t have it. I grin.

“Oh, Harry!”

Indie turns around and Adam grins at us.

INDIE’S POV

“Indie!” Adam’s face lightens up as he leans in to give me a light hug. “I hadn’t recognized you! It’s very nice to see you! How are you?”

This guy is so well-mannered and friendly. It even surprises me that he’s that close to Harry.

“Hi, Adam. I’m good, thank you, how are you?”

“Good. What a coincidence, hey?”

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Harry asks him.

He’s stood up from his chair and is now standing next to me with his hand on my low back.

“I need to get my mother a present. It’s not going well.” He smiles.

Harry chuckles.

“Just get her a book.”

“That’s like the least personal thing you could get her.” I complain.

“I don’t think so.” Harry argues back. “A scarf is less personal.”

“You are the king of presents.”

Harry shrugs and Adam chuckles at our interaction.

“Is this what you were having?” Marie points at Harry with raised eyebrows and an annoyed expression.

Oh, shit.

“Marie!”

Adam laughs and my friend her eyes roam up and down his body. He grins at her. Alright, what is going on?

I look at Harry but he seems as lost as I am. He gives me a confused look as if he was waiting for me to solve this but I don’t know what we’re supposed to do either.

“Hi, I’m Adam. I’m a friend of Harry’s.”

“I’m Marie, a friend of Indie’s.”

Adam shakes Marie’s hand and I think everyone can see how she turned into the heart eyed emoji. Oh, Marie, don’t be so obvious… But he hasn’t taken his eyes off her either. She smiles nervously.

“Do you guys want to have a cuppa?”

“Well, we-”

“We’d love one.” Marie smiles.

“Sure.” Harry surprises me.

What are they doing?! I give Harry a death glare but he looks away so I focus on the other little devil.

“What was that? The shops are gonna close.”

“Well” she shrugs “the shops are there every other day.”

I stand there like a fool as Harry brings two more chairs to our table and takes a seat himself. Marie does the same and that’s when my head goes into a short-circuit. I would have never thought I would be having coffee with Harry at some random cafeteria, much less with Marie in what looks like a double date. Harry licks his lips inside his mouth amused and taps the empty chair next to him but I sit down next to Marie.

“Did you call him?” Marie asks me the second I sit down. She’s back. “Or did you follow her around?”

I feel my cheeks heating up but Harry grins as he looks at her.

“Second option.”

“And why do you do that?”

My eyes widen. Did timid Marie just ask that? She’s frowning at him as if she was a cop confronting a criminal and my breath catches on my throat. Harry looks at me before he looks back at my friend.

“Because I like her company.”

“Just because of that?” She challenges.

“Marie, dear Lord, shut it.”

“No” She frowns at me. “This is bad. She’s a lot younger than you, mister, and you’re her mentor, what if-”

“This is half the cuppas.” Adam says as he places a cup of tea before me and the other one before Marie. “I’ll be back with the rest.”

“What’s your game?” She resumes her accusations as soon as Adam walks away. “What do you want from her?”

“Marie, seriously, you’re embarrassing me.”

“Why? If you don’t ask the questions, somebody has to.”

“I’m not a-”

“I’m not playing with Indie.” Harry answers cutting my words short.

He’s studying Marie’s face with a stern expression. I wouldn’t be able to tell what’s going through his mind.

“I never have and what I want from her, she knows perfectly fine since the very first day.”

He doesn’t seem mad or annoyed at my friend’s rude behaviour but I’m beyond embarrassed. Thankfully, Adam arrives with his coffee and Harry’s and takes a seat next to his friend before another word can be spoken.

“Were you guys on a date?”

What is going on today? What sort of question is that? Harry chuckles and only then I realize he’s looking at me. My face must be a technicolour poem.

“No” I answer before Harry can embarrass me any further “we don’t go on dates.”

“I beg to differ.” Harry challenges with a smug smile.

I’m going to kill him. Adam and Marie look at each other trying to see if any of them know what’s going on but I mean neither do I.

“So how long for have you guys known each other?” He asks Marie.

Thank God, I need a break. Harry’s still smiling at me, he’s clearly loving this.

“Four years. We go to uni together.”

“Oh, so you study Medicine too?”

“Yes.” Marie nods.

“Oh, gosh, three nerds and me.” Adam jokes and my friend laughs.

“What did you study?” She asks. “If you studied at all.” She panics. “Because it’s fine if you didn’t. I mean you don’t have to, you know, it’s a valid choice not to and it’s also a valid choice to study. Please somebody stop me.”

Adam throws his head back and laugh and Harry fights against his smile but fails. Marie is adorable.

“I studied Journalism.”

“Oh.” Marie nods. “It sounds interesting.”

“Well” he shrugs “I’m currently working at this big cosmetics firm. I’m the crisis management responsible.” He nods. “I get all these free products that I don’t even know how to use.”

I chuckle. He’s great, what a subtle way of letting my friend know he doesn’t have a girlfriend. I almost bow at him.

“Really?” Marie chuckles. “That’s so cool!”

He chuckles and frowns.

“I mean, you can have them even though you don’t need them.”

I try to control my chuckle because he’s not laughing but I catch Harry rolling his eyes from the corner of mine. He then looks at me and smiles. My phone screen lightens up and Harry’s eyes drop on it too. He’s the nosiest person I’ve ever met. It’s an Instagram notificacion.

@gemmastyles liked your picture.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles stories #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles alternative universe #harry styles au #harry styles news #harry styles daily

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therewillbnoexplanation · 3 years

Text

Writerly Ephemera

Thank you so much for tagging me @amywaterwings I love all of your fics so much, and it was so cool to get to see the little pieces of you that ended up in them.

I could describe the challenge in my own words, but I think Amy put it so beautifully:

The idea (and I hope I understand it!) is Writerly Ephemera, which is a word for when we add little bits of ourselves to our writing, scattering memories and places and phrases and things into our stories. The game is to find five examples of this, of YOU, in your writing and show everyone.

This seemed impossible at first, but soon I had so many examples that it was difficult to pick! My 5 examples are below the cut!

1. In Simon and the Phantoms, there's a reference that hasn't come yet (you're getting a sneak peek!) that is so embarrassing. I was a huge One Direction fan growing up (ok, still am, ngl) and the best way I could think to describe an excited crowd was a 1D concert. People were always screeching, not just because the music was good (the attractive band members helped....)

We get to the instrumental break, and Baz picks up his violin again. He sounds incredible, as usual, and all the girls in the crowd scream like this is a fucking One Direction concert (although I have to admit that I see where they’re coming from).

2. In the sweetest con, the ice cream shop is based on the best ice cream experience I've ever had. My friend and I went to see our mutual friend's dance recital, but rather than go out with everyone afterwards, she took me to this ice cream stand on the side of the road. It was delicious, and the vibes were off the charts.

His ice cream shop is quite literally on the side of the road. It’s as though we’ve left the town altogether and ended up on some strange, way-back roads. The store itself is circular, with curved windows along the front. The white walls stand out in the darkness, as does the bright neon sign, which reads EBB’S ICE CREAM, topped with a picture of a banana split. Despite it being in the middle of nowhere, the parking lot is full. Teenagers are sprawled out in the grassy area surrounding the place, enjoying their dessert or just laying in the grass.

It also should be noted that my entire evermore series comes from my deep love for Taylor Swift. (and Dana's encouragement)

3. My Carry On Countdown Day 26 last year, Does he know you can move it like that?, is based on another One Direction song. (That's so embarrassing.) I'm a bit of a wild dancer. I just kinda flail around and my body takes over. It's not good, but it's entertaining. The basis of the One Direction song "Does he know" is does your boyfriend know you're such a sexy dancer, but I thought oh gosh if that happened to me it'd be 'does he know you are such a wacky dancer. I decided Simon dances the same way.

That’s when I see it. A flash of golden hair, oscillating wildly on the dance floor. The mob spreads out, and suddenly the wild dancer is in the center. I can just about see them from where I’m leaning against the bar. They’re doing this weird motion with their arms where they criss cross them in and out, making an x to the beat, and their legs have a mind of their own. Half jumping, half shuffling, it seems they’ll go wherever the beat takes them. I’m surprisingly envious of this person. I wish I had their ease, their comfort in their own skin. They look ridiculous, sure, but they also look like they’re having fun. Somewhere deep down in my cold heart, I love having fun. As the song ends, the crowd starts cheering, and the mystery dancer turns my way. That’s when I get a good glimpse of them. Golden curls, moles I can spot from here, a ragged old t-shirt and jeans. Simon fucking Snow. I need to get out of this bar.

4. Another Carry On Countdown, Day 28, keep shining on. My most favorite Christmas tradition is driving around neighborhoods with my mom, looking at other people's light displays. We always get hot chocolate and listen to music, and it just feels so magical. On top of that, "Christmas Lights" by Coldplay has always been one of my favorite songs ever. I was a dramatic kid, so it appealed to me so much.

If we drive around for one more minute, I think I might be sick. “Remind me why we’re driving in circles right now when I could be in my pyjamas,” I grumble. “I’ve almost found the house, I promise!” Shepard calls from the front seat. “This better be worth it.” Simon takes my hand and scoots to the middle of the backseat. “Besides, it’s Christmas Eve Eve Eve , Baz. You have to get in the spirit!” he says. I just roll my eyes, pressing my face to the cool window. I have to admit, the houses are really pretty. It feels like every house on this street is lit up brightly with gaudy Christmas lights. There are blow-up snowmen and Father Christmases on roofs. It’s almost comforting.

5. I gave Baz my Fleetwood Mac obsession in Sing Me to Sleep. Like me, Baz gets it from his mother. I always loved "Landslide" as a kid because my mom would play it just for me in the car. She'd cry when she sang, but I never knew why. Now, I know what it's like to connect to the song as you grow older. I made Simon defend "Silver Springs" because it is one of their best songs. Both of these songs would be played from her CD of The Dance, which was a live recording of the band in the 90s.

Then I started listening to The Dance, my comfort album. It reminds me of driving in the car with my mother before she passed. She would always cry to “Landslide,” but neither of us ever acknowledged it. Now Snow is in my apartment, mentioning how he loves Fleetwood Mac and defending the honor of “Silver Springs.” I’m not quite sure what to do with myself, if I’m honest. I keep going back and forth between loathing and something weirdly close to yearning.

THAT GOT TO BE SO LONG! Sorry!! I just love telling stories. I'd love to see your examples, if you're comfortable sharing! I'll tag just a few: @snowybank @seducing-a-vampire @ninemagicks @aristocratic-otter @palimpsessed and anyone else who feels inspired :)

#tag games #my writing #it me

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lallemanting · 4 years

Note

1, 40, 86 😍💕

I’m so sorry for making you wait literal months for this, but thank you so much for being patient with me and I hope you enjoy!! 💛💛

1. rainy day, 40. sharing a blanket, 86. staying over in bad weather from this prompt list // also on ao3

––

Lucas should never have agreed to this.

Thirty seconds to launch and at the feeling of Eliott’s hand reaching for his own as they stand on Eliott’s parents doorstep, Lucas is regretting every stupid thought in his head that made him think that this would be okay, that he could handle this, not make a fool of himself.

Because when Eliott’s fingers interlace with his own, as he softly squeezes Lucas’ hand and shoots him a comforting smile, a fire lights in Lucas’ chest and it’s all he can do to keep from spilling everything he’s kept inside for months. It’s cruel what he’s done, teasing himself with the one thing he’s been wishing for only for it to mean nothing to Eliott, a ruse born out of necessity and convenience.

It had all started last week when Eliott had texted him out of the blue about an “emergency” he needed Lucas’ help with. Lucas, in his infinite (and very lovestruck) wisdom had rushed over to Eliott’s apartment after work, their favorite takeout in hand, ready to deal with whatever had happened, expecting, as per usual, a date gone wrong or a bad day at work.

Instead, Eliott had sat Lucas down with a rather sheepish expression on his face, wringing his hands together in his nervousness.

“Please don’t be mad,” Eliott is saying, an index finger running over his bottom lip, “but I need your help with something.”

“What’s going on?” Lucas asks, knowing full well he’ll probably agree to whatever Eliott needs. It’s his heart, really, that’s to blame: open and waiting for any chance to be close to Eliott, the damn thing. A weakness Eliott doesn’t even realize he’s exploiting.

Eliott pauses as he chooses his words, his voice quiet when he speaks. “So I was talking to my mom the other day,” he starts, glancing up to Lucas, who nods, encouraging him to keep going, “and you know how she’s been since Lucille and I broke up last year.”

Lucas nods again, and he briefly thinks about reaching out and grabbing Eliott’s hand in his own just to stop the nervous fidgeting, but he quickly thinks better of it. He can’t, no matter how painfully his heart throbs, because that’s not what friends do.

(It’s silly how often he’s had to remind himself of that these days: which things he can get away with and which he can’t. It’s become a bit of a mantra: you’re his friend. Don’t try to bend something that can break. You won’t be able to pick up the pieces.)

So he settles instead for having Eliott around how he can. Like this: a friend in need of advice and apparently, his help.

And yes, he does know what Eliott’s talking about. As much as he loves Eliott’s mom, she can be a bit much sometimes, especially when it comes to her son. When Eliott and Lucille had finally broken up for good a little before the holidays over a year ago, she was constantly checking in that Eliott was truly okay. The breakup had surprised Eliott’s family, and honestly, even Lucas himself, who had expected them to get back together a few weeks down the road, like they always did.

But when Eliott had shown up at Lucas’ apartment that night, tears running down his face, the split had seemed more final. And in the end, it stuck. Once Eliott’s mom had accepted that she was constantly asking if Eliott had found someone else, determined, it seemed, to make sure Eliott wasn’t alone.

(Not that Eliott would ever be alone, Lucas had thought bitterly, because he had Lucas. But it wasn’t really the same thing, no matter how often Lucas would lie awake at night wishing it was.)

“Well,” Eliott continues, “she’s been asking, like she normally does if I’m seeing anyone.” He pauses, takes a deep breath. “And then she asked if I was seeing you.”

Lucas’ breath gets caught in his throat and he nearly chokes. He whips his head up from where he was watching Eliott’s hands to stare at him. “What?”

Eliott smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, she, uh, has asked a few times actually. My whole family thinks we’re secretly dating and just don’t want to tell them, but I never said anything because it doesn’t matter. Since we’re, uh, not dating.”

Lucas’ heart hammers loudly in his chest. Has he been so obvious that Eliott’s entire family had picked up on the way he feels? He’s only met them a few times, had a few dinners at Eliott’s parent’s house, but surely that wasn’t enough for them to notice.

Lucas’ face grows hot. “Uh, okay,” he manages.

“But the thing is,” Eliott continues, his voice a little higher than usual, “I was talking to my mom the other day and she kept asking if I was dating anyone and said if I was I should bring them to our big family get together and you know how awful that was when I went alone last year – everyone asking me what happened and if Lucille and I were getting back together and when I would find someone new…” He trails off for a moment. “And then she asked about us again and I panicked.”

Lucas just stares at him. “Okay?”

“So I, uh, yeah…I accidentally told her we were dating,” Eliott says in a rush, his gaze dropping to the floor. Lucas’ heart stops. “And that I would bring you to the party.”

Lucas forgets how to speak for a moment. “You did what?” he sputters, his heart seeming to be fighting a winning battle against his ribcage.

“I panicked!” Eliott says, looking at Lucas like he’s trying to gauge his reaction. “I’m sorry.”

Lucas can’t help the uncontrollable laughter that bubbles up in that moment, because if Eliott panicked, Lucas can guarantee he’s panicking harder, his mind racing with a need to know what this means, why Eliott would say he was dating Lucas of all people. “Eliott!” he shouts, laughing harder. “You can’t just tell people we’re dating when we’re not!”

Eliott, who had been looking at Lucas a bit apprehensively, also starts laughing, looking thoroughly embarrassed but still a bit relieved at Lucas’ reaction. “I know,” he groans. “I swear it was an accident. It just came out.”

It takes Lucas a moment before he calms down enough to continue speaking. “What are you gonna do now?”

“That’s why I need your help,” Eliott admits, running a hand through his hair and Lucas realizes he’s not done.

Lucas lifts an eyebrow. He knows where this is going. “Eliott…”

“Could we pretend? Please? Just for the day,” Eliott rushes out. “Just a few hours with my family and then in a few weeks I’ll tell my mom we broke up or something, I promise. I just can’t face this party alone and I already told her I’m dating you, so…please, Lucas.”

If Lucas is consistent in anything it’s being unable to deny Eliott anything. He ignores the way his heart flutters traitorously, pushes down the fear at the pain he’ll feel at being so close to something, but not having it be real.

He sighs. “Fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Eliott. I can pretend for the party. It’s just one afternoon, right?”

Eliott nods, a grateful smile spreading across his face. “Yeah just one afternoon, and then we can pretend like none of this happened.” Lucas’ heart sinks to his stomach. “Thank you, Lucas. You’re the best friend ever.”

Lucas just smiles back at him, hoping it doesn’t look too much like a grimace. He can pull this off, if only for Eliott’s sake. How difficult can it be, really?

Extremely difficult as it turns out. They had talked it through briefly: when they started dating (two months ago), who asked the other one out (Eliott had declared he’d obviously be the one to break down and admit it first which had caused a very uncomfortable feeling in Lucas’ chest), why they haven’t said anything before (they didn’t want to jinx it before they knew if it would work), and how it’s going (incredibly, Eliott had answered, how could it not?). In the end, Lucas had felt almost high at the way Eliott had been talking them as an us, at the way he had been looking at him. But he’d had to remind himself several times that it was all for show.

So now, as they stand on the front steps to Eliott’s parent’s house, their fingers laced together, Lucas has to take a deep breath to steady his racing heart, preparing himself for what will inevitably be one of the best afternoons of his life, only to have it ripped away in a few hours. He squeezes Eliott’s hand back.

Eliott knocks and it takes all of three seconds for the door to swing open wide, revealing Eliott’s mother. A huge smile spreads across her face at the sight of them standing there, which only grows wider at the sight of their joined hands.

“Eliott, Lucas! I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, beckoning them inside the house. As they take off their shoes and coats, she hugs them each in turn, her embrace strong and warm.

“Lucas,” she whispers as she hugs him, “it is so lovely to see you again sweetheart. I am so happy you’re here.” Lucas’ heart pinches at how happy she sounds, knowing it’s all a lie.

“I’m so happy I’m here too,” he whispers back. “Thank you for letting me come.”

They separate and she laughs. “Of course. You’re always welcome here. And now that you’re Eliott’s boyfriend…” Lucas’ pulse quickens at that word being used to describe him. He tries to ignore it. “I hope you know that I would have invited you myself, but someone,” she shoots an accusatory look over at Eliott, “forgot to mention the two of you had finally started dating until the very last minute.”

Eliott groans. “Mom, I told you, we wanted to just keep it between us for a while. It was different, since you already know him.”

His mom just smiles back. “I know, darling, I know. Come on, everyone is already inside.”

It’s been raining all day, large droplets decorating the windows and reflecting the lights off the fire. The sky is gray and the air is cold, but here in Eliott’s parent’s living room, everything is warm.

The minute Lucas had walked into the Demaury house, he’d been engulfed by several relatives trying either to introduce themselves, or say hello again. It was surprising, really, just how many of Eliott’s family members seemed to know about him already, despite Eliott only telling his parents they were dating a week ago. But it’s nice to feel so welcome, to have people beaming at them, smiles only growing bigger at the sight of their joined hands.

Even Eliott’s father, who had always greeted Lucas with a firm handshake before now, had pulled him in for a strong hug, whispering how good it was to see him.

It’s hard not to feel a little bad for lying to all of them.

They’re sitting now, waiting for dinner to be ready, gathered around the small sitting room on spare chairs and couches Eliott’s parents had managed to cobble together.

There’s a fire roaring in the fireplace, and an even brighter flame burning from where Eliott’s hand is resting on Lucas’ knee, squeezing ever so slightly every time someone makes a comment about the two of them.

And it’s a little ridiculous how good this all feels, how natural. Eliott near him, the two of them together, other people seeing them together, thinking, believing they’re in love. Lucas could almost believe it himself, with the way Eliott looks at him, stays close to him, smiles at him and it all veers dangerously close to building something like hope in his chest.

He thinks if he let it, this whole thing would fan the embers in his heart, leading to blazing fire, an inescapable all-consuming catastrophe that would swallow him whole. So he doesn’t let it. Instead, he reminds himself every few minutes what this is: a favor to help a friend, nothing more.

But all of that is really hard to focus on when Eliott is sitting so close and his thumb is rubbing soft circles on the outside of Lucas’ knee. It’s so hard to focus on anything else, in fact, that he misses a question aimed at him from Eliott’s favorite aunt.

He’s brought back to himself when Eliott nudges him with his shoulder.

“Hmm?” Lucas asks, blinking a few times and looking towards Eliott.

Eliott chuckles a little to himself. “Inès asked what you’re up to these days,” he explains.

“Oh, uh,” Lucas blinks again and then turns to look at the older woman smirking at him, the corners of her mouth turned up in a way very similar to how Eliott’s do when he teases him. He forces himself not to dwell on the image of Eliott that conjures up. “Med school. Uh, I’m in medical school.”

Eliott’s aunt exchanges impressed glances with a few of Eliott’s cousins sitting nearby and Eliott’s thumb stops its ministrations only to shift his hand up Lucas’ leg a little, gently squeezing his thigh. Lucas suppresses a gasp.

“He’s very smart,” Eliott says, looking at Lucas with something akin to pride. But Eliott has always been proud of Lucas, just like, you know, in a friendly way. Lucas smiles back and then Eliott turns back to his aunts who look like they want to congratulate him on nabbing a future doctor. And in the cacophony of their voices Lucas almost misses it when Eliott adds, I’m very lucky.

But he doesn’t.

Instead it catches him off-guard how genuine the words sound in Eliott’s mouth and it’s the surprise he blames it on later when he leans over and kisses Eliott’s cheek softly, Eliott’s skin staining a soft pink under his lips.

The chorus of awws from Eliott’s aunts and cousins break Lucas out of his trance just enough to remind him of the role he’s supposed to be playing.

“I’m the lucky one,” he says, really only because he should as Eliott’s fake boyfriend and not at all because he’s been thinking it since the moment Eliott walked into his life.

And so the way Eliott’s whole face flushes red at Lucas’ words also must be the product of some really good acting.

Eliott looks up at Lucas and their eyes meet, and then Lucas feels himself blushing and the whole thing is ridiculous, really, so Lucas lets out a nervous giggle.

“You two are too cute,” Inès says, her voice once again breaking through the fog. “It’s disgusting really.”

And then the moment passes, left somewhere in the bottom of their wine glasses as they make their way to the dinner table. A moment only, where it didn’t feel so much like pretending, the kind of moment that will sit in Lucas’ heart and make it ache weeks from now as Lucas tries to fall asleep.

It’s only when Inès stops him in the hallway between dinner and dessert as he brings dishes into the kitchen, volunteering to help Eliott’s mom, that everything comes rushing back, when real feelings flood over the dam he’s built, coloring his face and his words and his heart.

“You know, I wasn’t sure you two would ever happen,” she says, her voice low so as not to be heard from where they stand in the hallway.

“Oh?”

She nods. “We used to tease him about you all the time, but he kept saying it wasn’t like that, that the two of you weren’t like that. But I knew. I could see it in the way he talked about you.”

Lucas nearly forgets how to breathe. “You could?”

“It wasn’t exactly hard to tell,” she laughs. “Honestly, I think he’s been in love with you for a long time, long before he realized it.”

Lucas feels like he might faint.

“I’m just so glad you two finally talked about it,” she says. “From what I’ve seen, and heard, I think you’re very good for each other.”

Lucas swallows, forcing air in and out of his lungs, the weight in his heart suddenly heavier, because it hurts, all these people seeing what he’s been wishing was true all along. Seeing things that don’t exist.

But Inès is looking at him expectantly and Lucas promised Eliott he’d go along with it so he says something that doesn’t feel like a lie.

“I think we’re good for each other too.”

Slowly but surely Eliott’s relatives trickle out of the house and start to head home as evening turns to night. But Lucas makes no push to leave, content to live in this bubble they’ve created for a little longer, knowing it’ll pop once they make it outside. They sit there by the fire until it’s only the two of them and Eliott’s parents.

But somewhere in between the hours of wine and board games the rain has turned to snow, coating the ground in a thick layer of slick ice. It’s fallen silently and fast, unnoticed by the people inside the house until the lights flicker once, twice, and go out.

Lucas frantically reaches out in the dark, his hand finding Eliott’s who pulls him close, laughing a little at him.

“Are you…scared of the dark?” Eliott whispers, his mouth close to Lucas’ ear, just as Eliott’s dad finds a flashlight and clicks it on.

Lucas shoves Eliott’s shoulder, now visible in the light. “No.”

“No?”

“I’m not scared!” Lucas protests, but weakly, as Eliott gently squeezes his fingers.

“Whatever you say,” Eliott laughs.

Eliott’s dad pulls back the curtain and looks through the glass at the swirling storm outside. It’s coated nearly everything now, the street disappearing under a layer of white, road indistinguishable from sidewalks and lawns.

“You can’t go home in this,” he announces. “I doubt the buses are running anyway. You’ll have to stay here.”

Lucas feels the panic rise up slightly. Because the afternoon, he could do. The evening, he could do. But spending a night and then another morning with just Eliott’s parents while pretending to be Eliott’s boyfriend while also not letting on that he’s actually in love with Eliott? It’s too much.

Eliott must feel the way he tenses next to him because he brings up a soothing hand to smooth down his arm, his other hand still firmly grasping Lucas’.

“You okay?” he whispers, concern evident on his face even in the dim light of the flashlight.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lucas replies, forcing a laugh to hide his discomfort. “I just, uh, wasn’t prepared to stay over.”

Eliott’s mom appears next to him, her hand finding his shoulder as she clicks on another flashlight. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she says, “you can stay in Eliott’s old room with him and I’m sure he has an old t-shirt here he can let you borrow. Oh! And there’s extra toothbrushes under the sink in his bathroom for both of you. I keep them stocked for guests these days.”

Lucas smiles gratefully at her and tries not to focus too hard on the staying in Eliott’s room with him part of what she said, but it’s hard, the way his heartbeat takes off with the words.

“Thanks mom,” Eliott says and then he’s leaning close to Lucas again, an assault on his senses. “It’s getting late. Want to go to bed?”

Lucas can only nod.

They say their goodnights to Eliott’s parents and then they’re climbing the stairs, slowly, using the flashlight as a guide and carrying a water bottle to brush their teeth and wash their faces with.

Eliott leads Lucas to the bathroom first, and Lucas follows willingly, blaming it on the fact that they have to share one flashlight and he needs to conserve his phone’s battery. They brush their teeth side by side and even in the awkward shadows created by the flashlight precariously balancing on the counter, it feels so domestic, so sweet, something in Lucas’ stomach twists.

And then Eliott is leading Lucas to his bedroom, and even though Lucas has been here before, has seen it several times in the light of day, he’s never seen it like this, never seen it knowing he’s supposed to stay there.

Eliott leaves Lucas standing awkwardly by the door as he goes over to his dresser, rooting around in the drawers and pulling out two t-shirts, tossing one at Lucas from across the room. Lucas turns the shirt over in his hands, a soft faded blue thing from one of Eliott’s summer jobs in high school, and despite the years of sitting in the drawer without Eliott wearing it, it still smells so much like Eliott, so much like his house that Lucas can’t help but take a deep breath, drinking it all in.

From across the room Eliott is pulling off his sweater, arms raised above his head, the long lines of his torso suddenly becoming all-too-visible and Lucas has to force himself to look away, still rooted to where Eliott left him by the door.

As Eliott pulls his t-shirt over his head, he must notice Lucas standing there looking at the floor, unable to decide what he should be doing right now.

“Sorry, do you want me to leave?” Eliott says, his voice wavering like he’s second-guessing himself. “I didn’t think about it, but I can leave you to change if you want.”

But then Lucas thinks that this, him making a big deal out of this, is probably the worst thing he could do. Because they’re friends at the very least and friends don’t even think about changing shirts in front of each other, and he’s the one making it weird…

“No,” he says quickly. “No, it’s fine. Let me just–” And then he reaches down to pull his own sweater over his head, fumbling with the t-shirt slightly as he puts it on. He looks up at Eliott, who he thinks he catches looking away, and then he’s also unbuttoning his jeans and taking them off, leaving him standing in only his boxers and his shirt, because really, Eliott can’t expect him to sleep in jeans…

And then they’re both standing at the base of Eliott’s double bed in Eliott’s old t-shirts and boxers and Lucas feels his heart beating a little irregularly.

“Um, I can, uh, sleep on the floor if you want,” Eliott says quietly, giving Lucas an opportunity, a way out. But he knows he’s not going to take it.

“If anyone is sleeping on the floor in your house, it’s me,” Lucas says, averting his eyes. “But no, I think the bed’s plenty big enough for us to share. As long as you don’t steal the blankets.”

“I don’t steal blankets!” Eliott laughs, affronted.

Lucas raises an eyebrow at him. And then they’re collapsing into fits of giggles as they make their way towards Eliott’s bed and whatever tension was there before seems to have seeped away. Lucas is grateful for that, how quickly they can fall back into being friends.

Finally, as they lie side by side in Eliott’s old bed, Lucas lets himself relax. He can do this, one night, sleeping next to Eliott.

“Goodnight Lucas,” Eliott says, his words caught up in a yawn.

Lucas smiles. “Goodnight Eliott.”

And then he turns on his side, his back to Eliott and lets sleep take over.

He should never have agreed to this.

It’s the only thought that races through his head as he lies wrapped in Eliott’s arms in Eliott’s childhood bedroom, moonlight streaming in through the crack in the curtain. After drifting into an uneasy sleep, he’d woken up a few hours later to find he and Eliott had drifted towards each in the night. Probably due to the temperature, Lucas reasons.

The power’s been out for a few hours now, and without the heat from the fire, the room has grown cold, his breath threatening to become visible in the air. The storm rages outside, wind thundering past the windows, but here, in Eliott’s embrace under the pile of blankets Eliott’s mother found for them, Lucas feels warm and safe.

So it should be easy to fall asleep, then, clearly, Eliott’s soft breaths rustling Lucas’ hair, his chest rising and falling under Lucas’ cheek, but Lucas can’t help the way his mind races and fights with him–enjoying this far too much and desperately wishing it meant more than it does.

He feels like a boy trapped on a sinking boat, toeing delicately with the rules he’s had to establish to keep himself from drowning, but he should have known there was no way to stop it once it started.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing, over quickly and forgotten, but it’s only made Lucas fall harder.

Lucas curses his past self as Eliott shifts in his sleep, turning more on his side but his arms never loosening their grip.

Eliott lets out a contented sigh as his legs move to tangle with Lucas’ and Lucas can’t help but think he should go grab a glass of water, take a break from this situation to let himself calm down, recognize this for what it is. Because Eliott is asleep and who knows who his dream self is thinking of, who his dream self imagines he’s holding, but it’s not Lucas, it’s never Lucas and it can’t let this go on.

Because the thing is, in the darkness of night as the storm swirls around them, it’s all starting to feel too real, a night Lucas will think about again and again, wishing he could replicate it. And he needs to remind himself that it’s only for the night, a result of extenuating circumstances. That’s all.

He moves to roll out of Eliott’s arms, delicately, without waking him. But the minute he shifts more than an inch from Eliott’s body, Eliott moves to press Lucas close to him again.

Lucas groans and wonders what bad thing he did recently that’s warranted this punishment.

“Lucas?” Eliott whispers, his voice sleep-worn and quiet as it breaks through the silence around them. “Where’re you going?”

“I was just going to get some water,” Lucas replies, ignoring the feeling in the pit of his stomach at Eliott’s voice, at Eliott saying his name.

“No,” Eliott says, like a petulant child, shifting again in the bed and reaching out to secure the blankets more tightly around both their shoulders. “Stay here,” he mumbles, pushing at Lucas’ shoulder who can’t do anything but comply. Lucas turns to face away from Eliott as Eliott moves in to spoon him, wrapping Lucas up in his arms, his chest pressing firmly against Lucas’ back. “I want you here.”

And Lucas has never been one to deny him.

When Lucas wakes, it’s to a warm cocoon and Eliott’s arms wrapped around his waist, his nose tucked into his neck.

He’s so comfortable and warm that he almost immediately sinks back into sleep but then he suddenly remembers where he is, the night before flooding back to him and he instantly tenses in Eliott’s arms because what is happening.

Eliott’s breath is hot on the back of Lucas’ neck rustling his hair, and his hands are big and warm where they’re pressed against Lucas’ chest and Lucas’ heart is beating so fast it’s a wonder his ribs haven’t burst open with the force of it.

Lucas’ first thought is that Eliott doesn’t realize what he’s doing, that he can’t, not when he’s holding Lucas like this , like he wants him, like he needs him. It’s not something just friends do. But then he thinks of last night, and Eliott’s whispered pleas for him to stay and he can’t deny that Eliott must know it’s Lucas he’s holding, which means, in turn, that Eliott must want to hold Lucas, which has implications that Lucas is not awake enough to follow through on and it’s just a bit overwhelming…

Eliott shifts behind Lucas, tangling their legs together and Lucas starts, suddenly desperate to put some space between them as something sparks in the pit of his stomach at the proximity. He wrenches himself free of Eliott’s hold and rolls out of bed, not stopping at the sound of the duvet rustling behind him as he sprints out of the room and towards the bathroom.

He slams the door shut behind him and leans back against it, willing his breath to even out as he clicks on the light switch out of habit, only to find the power has been restored in the night. A blessing, as that means a quicker exit for Lucas who can’t imagine he’ll make it much more time here pretending like this.

He turns on the sink and splashes some cold water on his face, raising his head to look in the mirror and finding something wild and frantic looking back. He looks overwhelmed and a bit panicked and it’s made even worse seeing himself in Eliott’s shirt. He takes a few deep steadying breaths willing himself to get control of this situation and brushes his teeth, splashing water on his face once more for good measure. By the time he finishes, he’s looking significantly less panicked. Which is good, seeing as he’ll have to face Eliott and his parents at least once more before he escapes.

He opens the door to the bathroom and trudges back down the hall, pushing open the door to find Eliott sitting at the foot of his bed, fidgeting with his hands.

“Lucas…” Eliott says softly as he walks in the door. “I–”

But Lucas can’t hear this, can’t hear Eliott give whatever explanation he probably has planned for the way he held him last night, can’t hear Eliott brush it all off as friendship and break Lucas’ heart for the thousandth time. He’s just not strong enough for it this morning, the barriers around his chest weakened by the displays of domesticity. In a week, they’ll be hardened again, strong and ready for whatever way Eliott inevitably dismisses him. But not today. He can’t do it today.

“I think I have to head back,” Lucas interrupts cheerfully, picking up his jeans from where he discarded them yesterday and pulling them on, putting his sweater on over Eliott’s t-shirt. “I have a huge exam I need to study for and I promised I’d meet Imane later today, so…”

He chances a glance up at Eliott and is a little stunned to find Eliott looking at him with wide, tentative eyes. He doesn’t like Eliott looking at him like that, slightly sad. He’d take things as they were, with him loving Eliott from afar, if it meant not seeing that on Eliott’s face again.

“Lucas, I think we need to talk,” Eliott tries again, his voice small and a little weak. But Lucas doesn’t want to have to talk about it.

“I’m sorry Eliott,” Lucas says quickly, “but can we talk later? I really have to go.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, pretends he doesn’t hear when Eliott says his name again, a hint of desperation there.

Lucas thunders down the stairs, taking them two at a time, knowing if he can only get out of the house and into the frozen world there’s a chance they can pretend this never happened, that nothing’s changed, that Eliott didn’t give Lucas everything he wanted only to rip it away.

Lucas’ heart stings.

He goes into the hallway and begins lacing up his shoes, grabbing his coat and his scarf from the hook and wrapping them around himself, bracing for the cold.

“Lucas?” he hears Eliott’s mom call out from the kitchen. He grimaces, knowing he can’t betray Eliott now, not after everything. He doesn’t want to make things awkward with his parents.

“Hi, yeah,” Lucas replies, stepping into the kitchen where he finds Eliott’s mom seated at the island, a cup of coffee in hand. “Sorry, I’m running a bit late and I have to head out, but I think Eliott’s going to stay for awhile.”

Eliott’s mom looks at him quizzically. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for some breakfast? Or just a cup of coffee?”

Lucas looks at her apologetically. “I’m sorry, I really can’t. But next time, okay?” He pretends it’s not a lie.

She smiles at him and nods. “Next time.”

And then Lucas is out the door.

The world is cold and white and quiet, the morning sun illuminating the soft covering of snow that fell in the night. The storm must have stopped a few hours ago since the roads have already been plowed and Lucas prays that the buses are running. Otherwise it’s about to be a rather cold and embarrassing situation for him.

He makes it about halfway down the street when he hears the first shout. He stops suddenly, his body stiffening because he would know that voice anywhere, the voice he thinks about often, the voice that comes to him in his dreams. Eliott.

“Lucas, wait!” Eliott calls out. And then, his voice a little thinner, “please.”

Lucas stops, powerless to ignore him. He turns, finding Eliott running towards him, clothing thrown on in a seemingly desperate rush, his shoes barely on his feet, not even wearing a coat.

“What are you doing?” Lucas calls out. “You’re going to freeze.”

Eliott’s caught up to him now, slowing down as he reaches him, panting from the exertion. “I couldn’t let you leave like that,” he says, his eyes meeting Lucas’, and it looks a bit like he’s been crying.

“What do you mean?” Lucas says, willing his voice to stay even. Apparently they are having this conversation now.

Eliott takes a deep breath, his eyes dropping to the ground. “I’m sorry,” he says miserably. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

And wait…what? Lucas had been expecting some sort of apology, but more along the lines of I’m sorry you read too much into this or I’m sorry I don’t feel the same, not whatever this is.

“What?” Lucas says dumbly.

“I’m sorry about last night. I get it, I know you don’t like me like that, but I got caught up in everything, in this relationship we were pretending to have and let myself start to think that maybe…” Eliott trails off and Lucas nearly blacks out. Or he thinks he must have already, because there’s no way those words are coming out of Eliott’s mouth. Not directed at him.

“I know you probably must have already known. I haven’t exactly been subtle. Hell, my whole family knew and they’ve barely even seen us together,” Eliott chuckles but there’s no humor in it. “But I want you to know that I’m okay with how things are, that if that’s all I get, I’m okay with it. I just don’t want to lose you.”

And Lucas is, well, lost. He has no idea what Eliott is talking about. Did all those conversations with his family members last night finally clue him into how Lucas feels? Is he trying to let Lucas down gently?

Only this really doesn’t sound like a rejection. In fact, it sort of sounds like the opposite. Like Eliott is letting himself down…like he’s been anticipating a rejection from Lucas of all people because…but no, it couldn’t be that…

Eliott is quiet, tears apparent in his eyes as he stands, waiting for Lucas to say something when it hits him. When the full force of what Eliott’s just said rears its head and smacks Lucas across the face.

Oh.

“Hold on,” Lucas says, his voice coming out barely more than a whisper. He tries again. “Hold on.” It’s louder this time. Eliott flinches. “What exactly is it you think I already know?”

Eliott clenches his jaw. “Come on Lucas, don’t. Please. Don’t be cruel.”

Lucas shakes his head and takes a tentative step towards Eliott. “I think you’ve given far too much credit to my deductive reasoning skills.” Another step. “I think you think I’m much smarter than I actually am.”

“I think you’re exactly as smart as I think you are,” Eliott whispers as Lucas stops, inches from where Eliott stands.

“Not about this,” Lucas says. “Not about you.”

Eliott lets out a shaky breath. “Oh?”

“What did you mean, Eliott?”

Eliott shakes his head, keeping his mouth closed.

“Because to me it sounds like you mean you have real feelings for me. That this wasn’t pretend for you.” Lucas reaches out and takes Eliott’s hand, smoothing a thumb across the skin. “And if that’s the case, I have to tell you it wasn’t pretend for me either.” Eliott sucks in a deep breath and Lucas raises his eyes to meet Eliott’s. He finds something like hope there. Lucas’ heart swells in his chest. “I like you Eliott,” Lucas whispers, as he leans in, their lips almost touching. “I kind of love you, actually.”

And then they’re kissing. One moment the cold air is whipping Lucas’ face, frozen and brutal against his cheeks and the next every bit of him is on fire, the flames starting where Eliott’s lips are pressed against his own.

The first kisses are gentle presses of lips, testing out a new terrain. Tentative at first, waiting for the other to pull away only to be met with an enthusiastic fervor, making Lucas only want to pull Eliott closer, closer, closer and never let go.

Eliott’s arms come up and wrap around Lucas’ neck, breaking their kiss only to nuzzle into his neck and press the words I kind of love you, too into his skin. Lucas can’t help the shiver that runs through him, but it isn’t from the cold.

Lucas isn’t sure how long they stand there, wrapped in each other, gentle presses of lips turning into something all-consuming, Eliott devouring him and Lucas willingly letting him. Eliott licks into his mouth and Lucas has to break off the kiss in a gasp, desperate for the air he didn’t realize he was neglecting. But Eliott doesn’t let him rest, moving instead to press burning, open-mouthed kisses along Lucas’ jaw and neck.

“I can’t believe you’re kissing me,” Lucas gasps out, laughing as Eliott wraps his arms around his neck and places a gentle kiss on his temple.

“Well I am,” Eliott giggles, pressing kisses all over Lucas’ face. “And you better get used to it because now that I can, I’m never going to stop.”

And Lucas has nothing to say to that except to turn his head and capture Eliott’s lips in his again, and again and again and again.

#skam france #elu #elu fic #skamfr #tagged this on ao3 as: back to regularly scheduled yearning which yeah #also i blame fwog for it taking me so long to write this #but I hope you enjoy!! <3 #my writing

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