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harmonizingsunsets · 3 years

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Polin Week Day 4: Prompt - Jealousy

Touching A Live Wire

After dragging Colin by the arm through her and Eloise's flat with one hand, Penelope slams the door behind them with the other.

She folds her arms across her chest and looks him in the eye for the first time since they left her work party early. He'd looked apologetic, following her wordlessly to the car and remaining silent during the entire drive to the flat.

"You have five seconds to apologize."

Colin sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. "Penelope, this is a misunderstanding."

"Five," she starts counting.

"I didn't mean to say it that loud!"

Penelope's lips curl further in anger. "Four."

"Wait, let me explain why I—."

"Three," she interrupts, tapping her foot loudly on the floor.

Colin tilts his head at her. "Pen, this is ridiculous."

"Two."

"Can't we just sit down and—." Pen opens her mouth, her lips forming the word one, but Colin looks alarmed and puts his hands out to stop her. "Fine, you're right. I'm sorry!"

Penelope breathes in relief. Despite the show she just put on, she didn't know what she would've done if she'd reached one. With Penelope's grade three students, she'd send them to the principal's office or write their names in the infraction book. But, Penelope didn't think those forms of punishment would've worked with Colin.

She moves her hands to her hips, pinning her gaze on him. "Sorry about what?"

"I'm sorry that I got a bit carried away."

"A bit carried away?" Penelope scoffs, causing him to flinch in guilt. "Colin, you yelled at my co-worker, "Penelope is too good for you," and then proceeded to knock over the punch bowl!"

"In my defense, whoever placed it there did a poor job. It was teetering on the edge of the table."

Penelope's jaw clenches. "I placed it on the table."

Colin's eyes go wide, adorably so, which she could appreciate more if she weren't so angry at him.

Well, she still does appreciate it a little. She's human, after all.

"Oh, then it was a lovely job!" Colin exclaims, trying to cover himself. "Perfect placement, angels in heaven would want you to be on punchbowl duty at every party."

"You think angels have parties?"

"No, of course not, but they host them. Can you imagine parties in heaven? Unlimited food, great entertainment, and you could dance with Pablo Picasso and Prince at the same time."

"You really think Picasso and Prince would run in the same social circles in—hey, don't distract me," she interrupts herself, pointing accusingly at him while biting back a grin. "I'm mad at you."

Colin takes a step forward, beginning to smirk. "Then why are you smiling?"

"It's an annoying side effect of being around you," Penelope explains grumpily. "But, I'm still angry."

Colin deflates. "I know. You should be angry at me." He begins to pace, making Penelope worry that he's going to slip as she and Eloise just polished the floor yesterday. "I was way out of line. I shouldn't have yelled at your co-worker. It was disrespectful."

Penelope exhales, her anger beginning to fade, but confusion still causing her head to ache.

"I don't understand. Why did you yell that at him? And why did you spend the whole evening scowling at him and steering me away from him the entire time?"

Colin doesn't respond, looking down at his shoes. His behavior worries her, as Colin's never been one to avoid telling her something. His eyes are always open, full of honesty and understanding. But lately, they've been clouded.

The clouds are unsettling. Penelope misses the sun's warmth, and she can't take the chill anymore, especially because she doesn't know what prompted the weather change.

"You've been so unlike you the past few weeks," Penelope quickly says before she loses her nerve. "You've been off ever since he started working with me at the beginning of this month."

Colin shifts his feet. "No, I haven't."

"Yes, you have! Whenever I bring him up, you completely shut me out, you've avoided my attempts for you to meet him, and I caught you rolling your eyes when I was talking to him on the phone," she lists, furrowing her eyebrows. "What do you have against him?"

"Nothing."

"Colin, tell me."

He shrugs but with tense shoulders. "There's nothing to tell."

Penelope presses on, taking a step closer. "Obviously, you have something against him."

"No, I don't," he says, taking a step back.

She steps forward, feeling a rook on a chessboard that's slowly advancing on his pawn as he moves it backward one square at a time.

"Be honest."

"I am."

"No, you're not. I know you well enough to know when you're lying."

"Penelope…"

"Please, Colin, just tell me what's really got you so—."

"He's into you!" Colin blurts out.

Penelope freezes, her rook stopping one square before her victory.

Colin grimaces at himself, taking a deep breath as if his words knocked the wind out of him.

"What?"

"He's into you," Colin repeats, his voice quieter than before. "I don't like the way he looks at you. He obviously wants something more than friendship."

Penelope knows she shouldn't, but she laughs. "That's absurd."

Colin's expression drops even further, beginning to frown. "Why is that absurd? "

"Because it's me. Why would he be interested in me?"

"Why wouldn't he be?"

Penelope narrows her eyes at him. "Colin, don't play dumb."

"I'm not. You're the one that's playing dumb."

"Excuse me?"

"Pen, you're intelligent, beautiful, funny, and kind," Colin describes, slowly raising his hands and placing them on her arms. There's something in his eyes as he speaks so vehemently, a gleam that sends a thrill through her body. "You're the perfect package. Who wouldn't want you?"

Something in his words causes her to pause, reassessing the entire evening. Once she does, seeing a supercut of Colin's reactions towards her co-worker and his behavior around the two of them, her mind reaches one conclusion—a conclusion which quickens her heartbeat.

However, it also inspires a newfound sense of motivation to stop tiptoeing at the edge of the cliff she's been on for years.

But, she has to make sure Colin is truly standing on the same cliff as her before jumping.

Penelope swallows nervously. "Alright, let's say you're right and that I'm the perfect package—."

"You are."

"Ok, let's say that I am," Penelope agrees, taking a deep breath before crafting her following words. "So, why shouldn't he like me?"

"It's not that he shouldn't like you because, of course, he should. But—he shouldn't," Colin blabbers, getting a cute crinkle in between his brows as he struggles to explain himself adequately, which only fuels her wonderful but terrifying theory. "Because… he's—that guy is not right for you. "

Penelope inches closer, so her chest brushes against his body. He intakes a sharp breath, and she has to restrain herself from doing the same thing, knowing the gravity of this moment—of getting this exactly right.

"But I'm the perfect package, so I'm perfect for him, right?"

"No—I mean, yes, he'd be lucky to have you. But that doesn't mean you should be with him." His eyes flicker to her chest, and back up at her eyes, and back to his shoes, his face becoming more red with each passing second. "He—he has a horrible laugh, he likes Star Trek over Star Wars, and he took way more than his share of the cheese platter—."

"Those reasons are inconsequential. You know they are."

Colin opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. So, Penelope raises one of her hands, moving up his arm and to his neck.

The path of Penelope's fingertips creates a live wire, causing his skin to brim with electricity everywhere she touches. But, it doesn't shock her. Instead, she's part of the electrical current and feels a hum of energy in her palm that his touch provides.

"So, there must be another reason you don't want me to be with him," Penelope continues, forcing her voice not to shake. "Right?"

"No," he shakes his head after a few beats.

She bites her lip, trying to hold on to hope. "Really, there's not one reason?"

"Um…no?"

Penelope sighs, dropping her hands from his neck, feeling stupid. How foolish was she to think ahead of herself like this? Clearly, Colin's answer was not what she predicted. Just like always, she got carried away in romantic notions, as she always seemed to, when Colin’s around.

"Ok," she says, clearing her throat. Colin frowns at the sudden distance, but Penelope can't see his expression as she's closing her eyes to try and banish the inclination to cry. "I know, it's been a long day, so let's forget it. I think I should—."

Penelope doesn't get to answer. Because, suddenly, Colin swoops forward, his hands cupping her cheeks and his lips crashing onto hers.

If touching his skin created a live wire, kissing Colin makes a high electricity voltage, one strong enough to power an entire city.

Colin's lips brush against her softly, but there's a desperate edge to it, one akin to the desperation she feels as she clutches the collar of his jacket and pulls him closer.

When Colin breaks apart for a breath, he rests his forehead on hers.

"I was jealous," he whispers.

Penelope pulls her head back a little so that she can meet his eyes. "What?"

"That's why I didn't want you to be with him, because I want you to be with me," Colin confesses, pursing his lips. "I know that's immature. I'm sorry. You should be with whoever you want to be with, even if it's not me. It's my fault that I was too much of a coward until—Ow!" He abruptly yelps, looking down at his arm, which Penelope just pinched. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Penelope ducks her head, the corners of her lips twitching into a smile. "I was just checking to make sure you weren't an illusion."

Colin smiles in the incandescent way that made Penelope fall in love with him in the first place. He tips her chin up, forcing her to meet his bright eyes filled with an emotion that wraps around her heart and squeezes it.

"I'm real, I'm very much real," Colin assures, his thumb skimming her cheek. "I'll prove it to you."

He closes the distance between them again. But, Penelope is the one to deepen the kiss. She feels a wave of heat run through her at Colin's moan. Also, she experiences a surge of confidence, proud that she was the one to elicit such a glorious sound.

Penelope wraps her arms around her neck, finding it slightly annoying that he's so tall, as she has to lean up on her toes to kiss him. Colin must sense her struggle, quickly amending the issue by swiftly raising her into the air.

But, as her legs sweep up as she's taken into his arms, she accidentally kicks the bowl that holds her and Eloise's apartment keys off of the table.

It crashes loudly onto the floor, the ceramic breaking into multiple tiny pieces.

Colin and Penelope's lips break from each other's, looking down at the mess near her feet. Then, for a moment, neither of them say anything, only staring at the floor.

"Well…at least there was no punch in there this time," Colin says, sidestepping the broken pieces of the bowl.

Penelope laughs, smiling against his lips as she pulls him in for another kiss.

While she has a lot of explaining to do about the dramatic scene the two of them caused when she shows up at work tomorrow and will have to answer Eloise about the broken bowl, she can't find it in herself to care.

When he opens his eyes briefly, looking at her and moving a strand of hair behind her ear, she no longer sees clouds. Instead, she only sees the sun, and she wants to bask in its glow forever.

Penelope knows how idealistic that thought is, but as Colin begins kissing down her neck after moving them to the couch, she thinks it's quite a reasonable notion.

#polin #polinweek #polinweek2021 #colin x penelope #penelope featherington #I love flustered Colin #I’m sorry #lol #colin bridgerton #fanfiction #polin fic #Drabble #one shot #modern au #Bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #jealousy #friends to lovers

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 3 years

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RESISTERE TENTATIONEM: CAPITULUM I

HELLION: A rowdy or mischievous person

Pairings: Damian Priest x Reader

Warnings: +18 explicit content

Editor: @thenightmareismyreality

Tag: @ziasaph , @theworldofotps , @alyhull , @bellalutionn , @aerynscrichton , @serpantscorpio8497 , @omegasshyghuleh6661ghosts , @squirreledelman , @lovinglerae , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @waywardwrestlewritingwaif , @sassymox

Notes: I’m so into this series that I even made moodboards 🤣 Don’t @ me 😂 I want to give a HUGE a thank you (and shout out) to @letsgivethisonemoreshot for helping me out with this entire trilogy! Thank you for your ideas and feedbacks, love ❤️ If you’d like to check out my previous works, you can find them on my Masterlist 😘

“Miss Y/L/N” He greeted me “Sit down”

Father Damian was the school’s principal, and in the three short months since I transferred to this school, let’s just say I’ve spent a lot of time in a chair in his office

“Yes?” I faked a smile as I stared at him from the chair I was sitting on

“Can you explain to me what this is?” He showed me a piece of paper written ‘Satan rules! And fuck you, Principal Damian’ “And why was this taped to my car window?”

“I have no idea where that came from” I shrugged

“Miss Y/L/N, are we really gonna go down that path?” He pinched the bridge of his nose

“Why do you think that was me?” I pretended to be offended

“Because you’re the only student who has pulled stunts like this before”

“Maybe it was one of your perfect little students” I stood up and made my way towards his wooden desk and sat on top of it “You know, the ones who wear the pearl necklaces to show their purity” I laughed

“Miss Y/L/N, please refrain yourself from talking ill of the other students and return to your seat”

“Why? Because they’re pure, perfect and collected?” I slid across the desk and placed myself in front of him “Because they’re God’s children and I’m Satan’s spawn?”

“Miss Y/L/N” He warned

“Yes, Father?” I batted my lashes at him

“Ever since you stepped foot inside this school, you have done nothing but speak profanities, break the school’s dress code and make the lives of everyone in here a living Hell!”

“When have I spoken profanities?” I gasped, acting as if I was shocked

“You asked your classmate if you could caress her…. pussy!” He said through gritted teeth and I held back a chuckle

“And what’s wrong with that? She got a cat and I wanted to know if I could pet her”

“You asked another colleague if you could taste her melons!”

“She brought some with her for a snack and I love melons! Don’t you love them too, father?” I smirked

“What about the ‘BJ practice at 4pm behind the bleachers in gym’ sign you were caught hanging on the wall?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest

“What? BJ: Bible Jam, where we go over some hymns and try to set up a choir, since you don’t have one here”

“Is the choir for you ‘demonic pagan chants’ you love to recite in Latin to the other students?”

I just shrugged in response

He sighed “You’re turning nineteen years old next month, Miss Y/L/N! You’re an adult, so behave as such! The entire reason you were transferred here in the first place was because of your horrid habit of skipping classes, which caused you to repeat last year! How long do you plan on continuing that behaviour? Until you turn twenty years old, perhaps? My point is, how difficult is it to follow the rules? You can’t even follow a simple dress code, Miss Y/L/N!”

“That’s absurd!” I said with a huff “I follow the dress code impeccably!”

“By wearing revealing undergarments?”

“How do you know they're revealing if you're not looking, Father?” I smiled

“It’s a bit difficult to not see a red bra underneath a white shirt, Miss Y/L/N”

“So you do like melons then?” I laughed “Oh Father, is the Devil tempting you with the pleasures of the flesh?” I grinned evilly as I leaned towards him, revealing some of my cleavage

“You know perfectly well to not joke with unholy names, Miss Y/L/N” He gulped

“I love to swirl my tongue around the D word, Father” I whispered “Would you like me to show you how well it fits my mouth?”

“Miss Y/L/N, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into”

“I’m talking about the Devil, Father Damian” I cackled “But I see you have another D on your mind”

“You shouldn’t mock the Devil, Miss Y/L/N. It’s not wise” He whispered, placing both of his hands on my sides and trapping me on the desk

“I’m not mocking, Father. I think he’s quite fun actually...don’t you?” I tilted my head to the side

“All that is forbidden is fun, Miss Y/L/N” His fingers brushed against my exposed thighs “It’s delightful to commit sinful actions”

I was caught off guard by his behavior, I never expected him to actually respond to my flirting

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” He chuckled “Devil got your tongue?”

“Maybe” He placed one hand underneath the hem of my skirt and stroked my inner thigh “He told you that I saw your red lace thong when you bent down to tie your shoes in the hallway this morning”

I gasped in shock and he continued

“The Devil knows our weaknesses so well, doesn’t he, Y/N? He knows that my weakness is a devilish little slut like you, and he knows that your weakness is a holy cock” He laughed

“Father Damian” I gasped

“What’s wrong, Y/N? Wouldn’t you like to commit a sin with me? A delicious, rough, sweaty and lustful sin?” He leaned forward until he was uncomfortably close to me

“Maybe I can turn you into a good little lamb once my cock is buried deep inside your pussy” He nibbled my bottom lip “Would you like me to fuck the filthy whore out of you?”

“Father...I-“

“What is it, Y/N? Not so brave anymore, are we?” He chuckled “I thought you liked teasing, isn’t that what you’ve been doing with me for the past three months? Teasing me non stop with your bratty attitude and smart mouth? Do you think I’m dumb? That I don’t see your true intentions?”

“I-“

“No no no” He placed two fingers on my lips and whispered “Don’t speak” Father Damian turned around and grabbed a Bible from his bookshelf

“Do you know what the punishment is for the lustful people in Hell, Y/N?” He turned around and looked at me in the eyes while placing the Bible on top of his table

I nodded in response

“Enlighten me, then” He grinned

“Those who commit the sin of lust will be punished in Hell by being smothered in fire and brimstone, Father”

“Good girl” He smiled “I see you paid attention to your biblical studies class” He said in a mocking tone

“Don’t you think that sounds so appealing?” He asked, tilting his head to the side and reaching for the Bible

“No, I don’t” I whispered

“Yes, it is. Want me to show you how appealing it can be?” He smirked, opening the Bible

To my surprise it was a hollowed out Bible, inside of it there was a slim vibrator and a bottle of lube

“Why do you have-“

“Yes or no, Y/N?”

“Yes” It slipped out of my mouth so easily

He smirked and reached his hands underneath my skirt, soon after the sound of cloth being torn apart filled up the room. Father Damian kept his gaze locked with mine as he brought my ripped thong to his lips, his tongue darting out and licking the piece of fabric

“Sinners always taste so sweet, don’t they?” He chuckled

Grabbing the lube, he squirted some on his fingers and spread it through my folds, the cold feeling was soon replaced by a warm feeling I never felt before. He added some more lube to his digit and slid his finger in me

“Oh my God” I moaned at the warmth that filled me

He reached for the vibrator and turned it on, sliding the cold toy against my warm bundle of nerves

“Fuck” I shuddered at the pleasurable feeling

“Repeat the punishment for me, Y/N” He smirked

“Being smothered” I started and his free hand wrapped around my throat

“And?” He grinned evilly

“Fire” I whispered, as he squirted more lube directly onto my folds this time

“So much fire” He smirked, replacing his finger with the toy at the same time his grip around my neck closed

I moaned softly as all of the different sensations hit me

“Oh there she is!” He laughed “The sinful little whore” And sucked on my bottom lip “You love to come out and play, don’t you my sweet harlot?”

I just nodded softly

“I’ll give you something even nicer for you to play with, how does that sound to you?”

“Anything, just please” I pleaded

He smiled widely, like a predator. In my foggy haze of pleasure I hadn’t even realized what he meant by that

“Father, please” I moaned

He smiled at my pleading “Oh my dear Y/N, isn't it a real joy to be a sinner?”

#damian priest smut #damian priest fanfiction #damian priest x reader #damian priest imagine #damian priest #wwe x reader #wwe smut #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #masochist writes #resistere tentationem trilogy

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themurderofdevonwhicker · 2 years

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Velia Hall | ❝ My heart gives a flutter, but I don’t dare utter a word. ‘Cause that would be absurd behavior for little miss perfect. ❞ | playlist

#if wip #interactive fiction #interactive novel #twine game #twine #twine wip #oc moodboard #the murder of Devon whicker

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imjustdreamingig · 3 years

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medieval times with the pevensie's

Heres a strange little headcanon/au/meta I'm not sure what they're called :

I had a thought, imagine if the Pevensie's story took place present day (as in the 2000's)

When the Pevensie's returned from their first trip to Narnia, they were miserable, confused and in bodies two sizes too small.

Their mother noticed something off about them when she went to pick them up at the train station when they returned from the country. Her children might look the same yes, but there was something different in the way they held themselves. The glint in their eyes were not ones of childish innocence but of ones that had seen horrors many have not even seen in their nightmares.

As the weeks passed, Helen began to notice that her children's odd behavior was probably not going away anytime soon. There was always a sad tilt to their smiles even when they assured her that everything was alright. Helen couldn't bring herself to mention that she did indeed notice the amount of worried and hurried whispers going around between the four, as she didn't want another lie told to her face. She would rather them come to her in their own time and not pressure them into telling her anything.

Helen noticed how her children never hung out with any of their friends anymore and that they rarely watched T.V. or used their phones. She constantly had to remind them that at least one of them, namely Peter, had to take a cellphone whenever the four of them went on walks which was quite odd because who ever heard of a teen not obsessed with their phones?

Another thing that struck Helen as odd was that it was always just the four of them on their walks. They invited no one else with them, that she knew of anyways, but they never mentioned anyone else once they returned.

After noticing her children's odd behavior, she decided to do something to treat them, to lift their spirits and maybe see a genuine smile on their faces for once. She saw on T.V. a commercial for this place called Medieval Times and thought that this would be a perfect place to take her children to. It seemed entertaining, exciting and an event that she thought would contain elements that would interest all four of her children.

The siblings, mainly Peter and Edmund, had suddenly taken an unusual interest in using fake swords they ordered off of Amazon and having sparring matches in the backyard whenever they thought Helen wasn't home. She would briefly catch a glimpse of them whenever she arrived early from work and was surprised to notice how good they were. Susan and Lucy would cheer them on from the sides and occasionally Lucy would join in the sparring, the fluidity of her movements causing another shock of surprise from her mother.

She then called the number displayed on the screen and since she called because of that specific ad, she got a decent discount on their tickets.

On Saturday morning, Helen awoke long before her alarm was set to ring. She went about her morning routine before waking up the children. Lucy was naturally an early riser so she got up with no problem which always baffled Edmund because who would willingly wake up early with no complaints? Which is why it was no surprise that Helen had to practically drag Edmund out of bed who kept groaning until Peter, who had woken up because of the amount of noise they were making told him to stop and to get ready.

Helen found it very strange that all of her children would listen attentively to whatever Peter said and would do whatever he asked them to with practically no hesitance, even Edmund who fought the most with Peter before leaving for the country. That had taken a lot to get used to, although she was glad that the level of fighting and shouting had diminished. She oddly kind of missed the noise.

Meanwhile, Susan was standing by the doorway having gotten up right after Peter and was watching the scene before her unfold. She was reminiscing the now bittersweet memories from back in Narnia when she herself had to drag Edmund out of bed whenever they had to have a particular earlier start to the day. She sighed and left the rest of her family to head back into her room to get ready, pushing back the memories of Narnia and focusing on choosing what outfit she was going to wear for the day.

About an hour had passed and everyone was set to go. The Pevensies piled into the minivan, because of course the Pevensie's had a mini van, with Peter in the passenger seat, Susan and Edmund in the next row and Lucy in the backseat. Although they had asked politely, she would not give the children any clues as to where they were going.

Helen slowly found herself getting used to the level of formality it seemed her children now acquired. It seemed she found herself getting used to a lot of changes in their behavior ever since the children returned from the country. She didn't notice the discreet nervous glances the siblings shared as they really didn't like not knowing where they were being taken, each of them recalling a specific occurrence back in Narnia with much disdain.

When they arrived and approached the main entrance of the building where the name Medieval Times was proudly displayed, the four siblings exchanged glances that to outsiders would've revealed nothing but gave the impression as though they were having entire conversations with just a few short looks. Helen noticed the sudden silence from her children and although she did not know why, she began to feel a little worried.

Once they had taken their seats in the front row so they were directly in front of the stadium and been told which team they were going to cheer for, Helens anxiousness grew when the children, even Lucy, declined the option to wear any of the plastic crowns they offered the crowd to show support for their given teams. She was sure she saw a look of mild disgust when Edmund took notice of what was clearly two fake swords crossed over each other and mounted on the wall on the way to their seats.

She didn't notice however, the slight tremble in Susan's hand when her gaze fell upon a bow with a quiver of arrows clearly made of plastic in the display case of the gift shop, or how Lucy went slightly pale when her eyes came across a small dagger made out of cheap metal with silver stones embedded into its hilt, or how Peter's eyes turned cold when he spotted an inaccurate imitation of what was supposed to be a medieval sword and shield displayed in a glass case right in the center of the room.

When the show finally began and the horses galloped out into the stadium with the 'knights' mounted on top of them, their team colors proudly displayed on the flags each of them held, she saw out of the corner of her eyes how Edmund who was sitting beside her, slowly placed his hand on top of Peter's who was gripping the arm of the chair so tightly his knuckles were going white. Susan, who was in between Peter and Lucy, wrapped her arms around Lucy's shoulders, but this action went unbeknownst to Helen as her line of sight was partially blocked.

The whole crowd was cheering and applauding their respective teams, laughter and screams filling the stadium, but there was no noise coming from any of the Pevensie siblings. They weren't even trying to pretend they were enjoying themselves, too caught up in certain memories during their times in a certain land. The wounds were still too fresh, it had only been a little less than a month since they'd returned. The pit of anxiousness in Helens stomach only grew with each passing moment.

Half an hour went by and still none of the siblings said a word, their steely eyes were firmly fixed on the events happening below them, a mostly stoic expression donning each of their faces. Helen's worry only grew and she was beginning to silently panic. She didn't understand what invisible force was holding her back, why she couldn't bring herself to ask her children what was wrong.

Maybe it was because when she glanced over at them she didn't see children, but for a brief moment a vision of grown men and women sitting straight backed, their heads held high with their chins raised ever so slightly. She had to blink several times because she was quite sure she saw a gleam of silver and gold coming from the top of Edmund and Peter's head, as if there were crowns perched on their heads a mere few seconds ago. She shook her head of the absurd thoughts filling it, blaming the illusions she'd just been presented on the lack of water she'd drank that day and turned her attention to the front once more.

When the actually fighting between the knights began, that's when things took a turn for the worse. As the knights were sparring and performed what looked like some rather complicated moves with their swords to the rest of the audience, Edmund beside her finally showed signs of life and leaned back into his seat. As he crossed his arms, he scoffed and rolled his eyes, mumbling something about how uncoordinated the wrist movement was and that their stance was atrocious. Helen was shocked. Since when did Edmund use words such as atrocious?

She then saw similar behavior from Peter although it was slightly more reserved, but one could still notice the hint of disapproval when he sighed and shook his head. Helen was even more shocked when Lucy actually booed at one point. She wasn't that loud but before she could say anything else, Susan leaned down and murmured something into Lucy's ear. At first Lucy looked offended but then a resigned look fell upon her face as she nodded. Even so, Helen was still surprised to see the hint of sadness that was present in Susan's eyes as she turned to face the front, this time able to see her arm once again wrapping around Lucy's shoulders and the placement of her other arm in the crook of Peter's elbow.

When the fourth pair of knights began to fight, Helen felt a charge in the air before anything happened. The temperature in the room had risen and those around the Pevensie's began to feel warm and sweaty. Suddenly, Peter leapt up from his chair and onto his feet. He had grown restless and had enough of watching inexperienced amateurs who had no idea how to handle a sword, pass off as though they were naturals in that specific art of combat with a certain air of superiority around them. Peter couldn't establish if it was actually there surrounding them or if his rage was causing him to see things.

Peter's patience snapped as he directed his harsh glare at the closest knights in front of him, all whilst maintaining a relatively calm look on his face which made him look that much more terrifying. With his arms clenched at his side, Peter spoke in a voice Helen had never heard coming out of the mouth of her son, laced with disgust and a mocking undertone. As Peter spoke she felt many things at once; curiosity, fear, and surprisingly shame as if though she was getting scolded by someone who caught her doing something against the rules.

The strangest thing however, was that she felt as if she was standing in the presence of someone with high authority, someone in a position of power that knew what they were doing, that addressed their company in a tone that made it clear that they were in charge. How she felt this way when staring up at her son with eyes wide, she does not know.

"By the mane," Peter said under his breath before a slight scowl graced his lips and a booming voice filled the air, "are you seriously acting as though you know what you're doing? With that footwork and those feebly attempted strikes you'll end up killing yourself before you even lay a blow on your oppone- Susan get off of m- Lucy do not encourage her, Ed what n-"

The knights turned to look at the source of whoever was shouting with a slightly affronted look on their faces as did a lot of people in the audience. They were shocked to see that it was merely a young boy who looked as though he had a lot more to say before being grabbed by what the knight assumed were his siblings or friends.

Peter had always been a composed man for the sake of keeping up appearances for his subjects in Narnia. Many of its inhabitants had learned to fear the rare outbursts of the High King's anger. When Peter snapped and let his anger loose, there was no going back. His anger was similar to a fire, at first a small flame yet still capable of burning you if you got too close until eventually, it grew into a monster filled with heat and rage, finally let free of its cage and seeking to destroy everything in its path. It became uncontrollable to the point that not even Lucy could manage to tame it automatically.

Ever since the Pevensie's stumbled out of Narnia, Peter's been a ticking time bomb, slowly counting down the seconds until he finally exploded. The tension in Peter's chest has been brewing, growing tighter with each passing day without a glimpse of a possibility of returning to Narnia, of going home.

With all the anger and the resentment Peter's been keeping away from prying eyes, his siblings are surprised and mildly impressed he's been able to keep a handle on his emotions until now. They all knew that Peter's pride and his role as High King would prevent him from answering truthfully if any of them had outright asked Peter if he needed to talk.

To make up for this but still looking for ways to support their eldest brother, Lucy made it her personal goal to make Peter laugh as much as possible at the many jokes she'd say and the joking banter she'd try to make him participate in. Susan would lace her arm through his at random points of the day, knowing that although it was a simple action, it was a way of responding to all the unspoken words between them but were ever so visible in the way Peter's eyes would occasionally appear bloodshot red whenever he sat down for breakfast. Edmund would come into Peter's room and sit down on his bed and talk about a plot of either a book he'd been reading, a movie he remembered watching, what he saw their neighbors doing in the morning, anything to distract Peter from the thoughts plaguing his mind.

Susan, Edmund and Lucy all knew deep down the moment they realized where their mothers surprise was taking place that this would be the final straw for Peter. They were both in some ways relieved that he would finally be able to release all the built up tension wound tightly in his chest but also nervous about its outcome.

Which is why when Peter suddenly stood up from his seat about to reprimand the so called 'knights', they sprung into action. They were expecting this and Peter's reaction didn't come to them as much of a surprise. They really couldn't blame Peter for this to be the deciding factor for his upcoming actions. Every move that was supposedly meant to imitate real sword fights of the past made the rest of the Pevensie's siblings grimace as well.

As they led him out into the hallway outside of the arena, Lucy had swung one of Peter's arms over her shoulders, her hand clutching his with the other wrapped around his waist. Susan grabbed his forearm and gently pulled him in the direction of the exit despite his protests. There was a reason both girls had the task of leading him out into the hallway, it was because they had a better chance of not being shoved aside and walking back down to the arena to continue his verbal assault on the knights quite frankly embarrassing display of a sword fight. If it had been Edmund leading him it might've been a different story.

Edmund was directly behind Peter, ready to take matters into his own hands if Peter did indeed end up trying to escape the holds of his sisters. Edmund knew Peter however, and knew his desperation would never get to that point. On the rare occasions Peter lost his composure in front of visiting dignitaries back in Narnia, all he needed was a gentle reminder from his siblings, a touch or a glance to remind him of his position. Unless he was in the battlefield, there no one who could stop Peter on his path to claim another victory for Narnia.

As the children led Peter outside they did not notice the pairs of eyes that followed them as they went, or realize that they had left their mother behind, still sitting in her seat with her mouth agape. Once she shook herself from her stupor, she hastily grabbed her belongings as well as the coat Lucy left behind and rushed to catch up with her children, leaving two very red faced knights openly staring at her as she left, not quite understanding what had just happened.

The people in the audience who did not take notice Peter's outburst started to wonder why the two knights had stopped their sparing and what made them do so? It was likely that the supervisors of the show noticed this too as a voice over the intercom announced they would be taking a short intermission and if all the knights would please make their way to backstage. They did although say to make their way into the castle to not ruin the medieval effect they were trying to push across.

When Helen finally caught up with her children the siblings were making their way to the car. She noticed Peter's shoulders were slightly slumped and that Susan was rubbing her hand across his back as they walked, Lucy's right hand grasped in Peter's left. Edmund was now walking in front of them and leading the way to the car. Helen didn't know wether to be furious at the display she had just witnessed her son put on or be worried about his well being.

As she approached them to where they were leaning on the car, her mouth opened to either scold Peter or console him, which one she would end up saying she did not know. Right when she was about to speak Edmund shot her a glance that made whatever words that had formed die in her throat. She closed her mouth and looked at her second youngest with an astonished expression on her face, wondering how a single look from her son made her quiet but more importantly, why she had done it without question?

She glanced at Edmund once more and noticed a stern look dominating his face. Once again a strange feeling washed over her and she couldn't help but read into his expression a little more than she should, the words 'royalty' and 'kings and queens' once again danced in her brain. Once again, she shook her head and reprimed herself of thinking those silly notions, unlocked the car and motioned for the kids to get in, confused but understanding that now wasn't the time to address the situation at hand.

No one spoke on the ride home. 10 minutes into the journey, Helen turned on the radio to hopefully ease the tension that stifled the small space. In all honesty, she turned it on to avoid any awkward moments between her and the children and to have something to distract her on the tedious journey home.

Lucy had offered to sit in the passenger seat and Helen didn't object. Lucy didn't dance or sing along to any of the songs on the radio as she usually did. Instead, she leaned her elbow on the window ledge, a small frown lacing her lips as her unmoving eyes took in the scenery. Edmund, Peter and Susan squished into the middle row with Peter in between them. There was no doubt that it was a tight fit and they must've not been very comfortable but no one seemed to mind the cramped space, their bodies having practically no air between them with their shoulders and legs pressed tightly together.

Susan had her hand placed delicately on Peters thigh as she too like Lucy, took in the scenery outside the window yet her eyes were unmoving. Edmund had his head leaning on Peters shoulder. The first time she had seen him do this gave Helen a startled shock but she had quickly gotten used to all of her children's now physical behavior with one other.

As Helen looked into the rearview mirror and took in the scene displayed before her she couldn't help a pang of hurt from developing inside her as she wondered not for the first time today and certainly not for the first time since she had picked up the children from the train station; "Are they even my children anymore, let alone children? What happened to them in the country that they refuse to talk to me about?"

When Helen pulled into the driveway of their house since it's not really home to the siblings anymore is it, that's when Peter finally decided to say something for the first time since leaving the venue. As they got out of the car the rest of the siblings headed inside with slight nod to Edmund that he would follow shortly. Before Helen made her way to the front door Peter pulled his mother in for a hug.

Helen was not a very tall woman so Peter didn't need to strain himself too much to give his mother a proper hug. Startled by the abrupt display of affection directed towards her, it took Helen a moment before she wrapped her arms around Peter as well. Peter then pulled back and apologized for his actions and for ruining his mothers surprise. He said he didn't mean for his temper to get out of control and to shout at those men who were only doing their jobs. He promised to make it up to his mother soon and that he would learn to better keep his emotions in check.

When Helen asked the inevitable question of why Peter had acted the way he did, his face paled slightly, guilt laden in his eyes. His gaze shifted towards the ground for a moment before they eventually met hers again, his gaze now unwavering as he promptly told her that it reminded him of something that he'd seen in the country, but not to worry as he had it all sorted. Helen later blamed it on a trick of light when once again a flash of a broken adult, not child, appeared before her in that moment.

It was only because Helen saw beneath the broken mask Peter was desperately trying to keep firmly in place that she sighed and said alright. She didn't exactly know the reason why Peter had such a pained expression in his eyes but nevertheless, she pulled him into another hug. Not for the first time Helen whispered in his ear that if he ever needed to talk to someone she was there, and not for the first time Peter chuckled and promised that he would. They both secretly knew it would never happen.

Helen knew that she wouldn't find out the sole reason as to why Peter had reacted in such a manner that day and as she climbed into bed that night, she realized she never will. She realized that ever since her children came back from the country there were bound to be more instances where her children's motives would never be fully revealed to her. Peter's expression out in the driveway was proof of it.

Helen took into account the sadness she noticed in Peter's eyes and the noticeable weight that pressed firmly on his shoulders which is why she wasn't terribly harsh on him or pushed him to reveal anything he clearly wasn't comfortable talking about with her, even though that realization hurt her very much. Pain, even if not understood by everyone around them, was still pain, and she was not going to cause her son any more of it.

That did not mean she was going to let him go unpunished however, Peter still acted out in a crude manner in public and directed it towards other people. She grounded him for a week with dishes duty for every meal and with no electronics, but something told her Peter didn't really mind having to go without an electronic device for that long as he already did so anyways.

Helen also made note of not planning any more huge surprise trips like to the now off limits Medieval Times unless she was absolutely certain it was a place her children would enjoy going to or they had straight up told her they'd like to go there in the first place. In fact, she decided that from now on surprise trips or any huge surprises for that matter, were to be put on pause until further notice which probably meant forever.

No one got much sleep that night and if she heard three pairs of footsteps heading towards Peter's room in the middle of the night and hushed whispers for the rest of it, Helen made no implications that she had noticed at all the next morning at breakfast.

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nightshade-minho · 3 years

Text

-Blue Book- (12)

Warnings: negative emotions like heartbreak, envy etc, alcohol, excessive consumption of alcohol, making out etc.

Wc: 6.1k

You shot awake, groaning as you clutched the bed sheets tightly. Fuck, that was a terrible nightmare. You pushed the sheets off you, your skin feeling clammy and your hands sweaty.

"Y/n? You okay?"

You turned to see Minho looking at you, his face covered in concern as he tentatively placed his hand on your arm, tilting his head.

"I'm fine..." You sighed and shook your head, sitting up straighter. "Really...it was just a bad dream." You mumbled, sliding out of the bed and glancing back at Minho with a reassuring smile.

"Oh. Okay...' He stood up as well, adjusting the sheets and tucking them back in.

"What do you want for breakfast?"

You sighed and looked at the clock on Minho’s wall, pressing your lips together. "It's almost lunchtime. We definitely slept in...I am hungry, though."

"Fine, call it brunch. Either way, it's food." He chuckled, heading out of the door as you followed him with a giggle.

Minho opened his fridge, glancing over at you. "Your phone was ringing at midnight, by the way. i was going to answer it but whoever it was gave up before I could pick up. I didn't want to wake you.” He said as he took out ingredients for omelettes, placing them on the counter.

"Oh...it was probably Felix. I didn't exactly tell him I was staying at your place."

"Ah, that explains it. Go, call him. I'll be done with this soon." he said, pointing to the currently empty pan.

You nodded and went back to the bedroom to grab your phone, heading to Minho's balcony as you dialled Felix’s number.

***

Felix was cleaning the dishes when he heard his phone ring. He looked over at the contact ID quickly, heaving a sigh of relief mixed with anger. He glanced at Chan before answering your call, putting you on speakerphone.

"Y/n! I was fucking worried sick! Chan told me you walked out without any explanation and then you didn't come back home, and-"

"Woah woah, chill. I'm at Minho's, I stayed the night."

"Oh..." Felix paused. He didn't miss the way Chan's already dull expression morphed into something even more sour at the mention of Minho’s name.

"I’m glad you're safe but...that still doesn't excuse what you did. You could have called. Instead, you let me worry."

You sighed, guiltily. "I know...that was a dick move. I’m sorry, Lixie."

Felix sighed reluctantly. "I accept your apology, Y/n...you know I can't stay mad at you when you call me that." He pinched his forehead, trying not to let affection overcome him.

You giggled. "I know. My sunshine boy~ You can never be angry for too long, huh?"

Felix fought off his smile, shaking his head. 'Yeah, enough of the buttering. You need to get back here soon, and help me with the decorations to show me you’re really sorry."

"Decorations?" You asked, confused as you heard Minho call out for you. Turning back around, you went back into the kitchen, grinning as you saw the buttery golden omelettes he'd placed on the plates.

"They look so fluffy..." you mouthed, as Felix replied. "Yeah, for the party." he explained. "It's Jisung's birthday today, I thought you knew? Don’t tell me you forgot! The party's at our place-"

"Oh! Fuck, I did forget about that, Lix- "

"It’s okay, just come home quick. Bring Minho if you’d like, we could definitely use the extra help."

You nodded. "Sure, I'll be there right after breakfast."

You shut down your phone, sitting down at the table and grabbing a fork, digging into the eggs. Minho looked up, swallowing before he spoke.

"Jisung’s birthday, huh? I can't believe you almost forgot. He's going to be very mad." Minho teased, waving his fork in the air at you and smirking.

"Too bad he'll never find out." You said smugly. "Right?"

"Right." Minho chuckled. "How are the eggs?"

"Amazing. Why are you and Felix such naturals at cooking? And then there's me, nearly burning down the kitchen the last time I tried."

"Hey, it’s not your fault. It was the oven’s. We needed to fix it anyway." He laughed, continuing to eat his food.

"I guess so."

There was a comfortable silence for a bit as Minho watched you eat what he’d cooked for you. He hummed, realizing how calm he felt around you. Your presence made him feel so safe and secure.

You seemed to really be enjoying what was on your plate. Moaning softly in appreciation, you took another bite, his cheeks flushing at the sound.

“This is...wow. Perfect.” You grinned up at him, chewing enthusiastically.

Minho wished he could cook for you every morning, for the rest of his life.

***

"You're finally here!" Felix shook his head, flinging the door open wide as he beckoned the two of you in.

As you entered, your eyes immediately spotted Chan standing on the couch, hanging up a ‘Happy Birthday’ banner onto the wall. You inhaled sharply, your heart already beginning to pound errantly at the sight.

"We already did a lot of it without you..." he sighed. You gasped as you looked around the room, which had been completely transformed. There were tiny star-shaped lanterns hung from the ceilings, and the couch had been moved to the side, to provide space to dance. The living room was much cleaner, a stark contrast from how it looked yesterday.

"I know, I'm so sorry. I just overslept. Last night was weird. At least my headache is gone." You admitted. You felt Chan glance at you at that, quickly looking away before you could return his look.

Chan swallowed. His heart had dropped when he saw you and Minho walk into the room, together. One could only presume you'd stayed the night at his place. He felt overcome with jealousy, his chest rising and falling as he breathed heavily, desperately trying to focus on the task at hand.

Envy. It was an emotion he had always been quite familiar with, unlike happiness. The person he was envious of had been and still was Minho. Minho, who he'd used to call his best friend.

First Miyoung, now you. Everything somehow circled back to him.

However, the jealousy he was feeling was a lot more profound this time. With Miyoung, there had been no illusions. Chan had been trying his best to win her over, but with no luck. Deep down, he’d known she was a lost cause.

With you, though...there was a time when he’d been almost sure you were the one, that you belonged to him...a time when he’d thought you were in love with him too.

It wasn't like Chan to dream. He wasn't one to believe in happily ever afters, really. They just weren’t realistic enough...

But, for a brief moment, you had made him want one.

Maybe that was why the bitter reveal had been all the more cruel... Minho, taking away what he considered his once more.

The thing was- Chan knew you were a human being. Not an object for him to claim. He wanted you to be happy...but would you be happy with Minho? He’d despised you back then. Chan still remembered the pure hatred that spewed out of Minho every time he talked about you. Had that been a ruse? Had he ever hated you? Or were you two secretly seeing each other the whole time, working together to undermine him and ruin the rest of his life?

Okay, so maybe that was a little far-fetched and absurd. Still...he didn’t know what to believe anymore.

Chan sighed and looked back at his banner, deciding to ignore the both of you.

You tore your eyes away from Chan. Looking back at Felix, you hummed and tucked your hands in your pockets, breathing in.

"So, what do you want us to do?"

"Hm, let's see...we've got decorations and catering left. Minho can help me cook and you-"

Your eyes widened. No way- Felix wouldn’t suggest you help Chan with the decorations, right? He knew better than to leave the two of you alone again.

You saw Chan freeze for a moment as well, although his back was turned away from you. Good to know he felt the same way.

Felix sensed the tension rising, quickly trying to salvage the situatiom. "Hm actually, Y/n... I think I’ll need your help with the food. Especially with the drink choices, you're always the best at that!" He turned to Minho, clapping his hands decidedly.

"You can help Chan with the decorations, Min."

Minho nodded after a moment of reluctance, grimacing as he went over to inspect the banner Chan was putting up. Felix took you to the kitchen as you heaved a sigh of relief, placing your hand on your chest. “That was a close call.”

He took out the menus he wanted you to pick from, as he watched your expression.

"Why'd you leave last night, anyway?" He muttered sadly, carefully inspecting your face.

You thought back on it. Why did you? Last night was kind of fuzzy in your mind, to be honest. You couldn’t even recall the final straw that had made you storm out of the house. It wasn’t like you to be this spontaneous.

"Chan was annoying me, and making my headache worse. So I left." You shrugged.

"...Right." Felix rolled his eyes. "Look, I didn't want to say anything at first, but you do realize we're all grown up now, right? It's time for us to put all that high school shit in the past. I know Chan did some pretty shitty things but is it really that hard to forgive him? Minho was terrible as well- maybe even worse, yet you forgave him." He pointed out.

"Minho spent years grovelling and apologizing for his behavior. So what if he was mean, he's changed! It's clear to see. With Chan, I'm not so sure. I can feel the hate he has for me practically rolling off him.” You stared at the floor, trying not to let those memories overtake you. “Besides...I thought I told you. Chan’s betrayal hurt more cause I genuinely thought he cared about me.” You mumbled.

“Then again, I was stupid and naïve, so I don’t really have anyone else to blame but myself."

"Chan doesn't hate you..."

"Really? I find that hard to believe." You raised an eyebrow. "If he’s a mature adult, I think he should come and try to talk to me about what he did. I'm not the one who did something wrong here, so I won't approach him. If he wants to apologize, he can."

You sighed as you pulled the menu over to yourself. "But, as long as he continues to be petty, you better believe I'll play his game."

Felix sighed and nodded. "You know what...sure. Whatever." He made a mental note to himself, deciding to talk to Chan later. He couldn’t bear to stand on the sidelines any longer. He had to do something.

"I'm staying at Minho’s until he leaves." You added, ripping Felix out of his thoughts. Humming, you examined the drinks menu he handed to you.

Felix shrugged, noting down the names of the drinks you circled. "Okay. Ooh, the old gang will all be here tonight!" He let himself smile, ignoring your icy demeanor. Looking up, he sighed as he noticed the scowl still present on your face. “Come on Y/n, lighten up! Let’s forget about Chan for a second, shall we? Forget about what he did to you. Forget about whether or not you want to forgive him. Just...treat him like you would any other normal person, okay?"

You groaned, standing up straight as you rubbed your forehead. Ugh, maybe you should listen to him. All these negative emotions were really exhausting, and you could definitely do without them.

"Sure...fine. I can do that...I think."

"Good girl.” He smiled proudly. “Now, let's do food..."

***

Minho and Chan hadn't said a word to each other for the past hour. They communicated mainly through grunts and hand gestures, as they decorated the space in silence.

Between the mutual hate and jealousy, there wasn’t much room for a good relationship between them anymore. They were virtually strangers, and honestly would prefer to keep it that way.

Chan kept glancing at Minho though, biting his lip. He inhaled, working up his courage to say something.

“So...how’s Y/n? Are you taking care of her?"

What kind of question was that? Minho frowned, nodding. "Uh...yeah?"

Chan nodded, biting his lip as he looked at the decorations again. "Cool." He hated the way his heart was filled with dull hatred, anger and pain. A mass of negative emotions had settled in him over the years, and they definitely weren’t going to budge any time soon.

However...when he’d seen Minho again, some of the anger had melted away, kind of. The man was no longer the same person he’d been back then. More confident, yet also more vulnerable...he strangely reminded him of you, before you'd shattered your rosy view on life and opted for a more practical outlook.

There was an awkward silence as they continued their work. Minho felt guilt slam against his ribs as he caught a glimpse of Chan's face.

He looked void of hope. Calm, yet not in a good way. The kind of calm that came from losing everything.

There was a tiny part of him that wanted to make it all better for Chan. Tell the truth to you, and come clean. After all, Chan was once his closest friend. The two practically grew up together. Minho recalled how he’d go over to Chan’s every day after school, playing video games in his basement and generally horsing around. He smiled to himself as the memories came back to him. Memories of helping him steal his dad’s Playboy magazine...consuming an unhealthy amount of energy drinks and crisps as they hung out, content in each other’s company.

But then, he thought about you. No. He just couldn't lose you to Chan. Besides, he wasn’t even completely sure if the truth would make you forgive Chan. Maybe it would just turn you against Minho.

Chan was handsome...he was kind, muscular, loving. He would have no problem finding someone.

Minho on the other hand...he'd never loved anyone the way he did you. The emotions were alien, and yet so exciting. It was confusing, really- he couldn’t tell if he liked these feelings or not.

It wasn’t like he was stripping Chan of his soulmate or anything. It just wasn't a big deal. Right?

Then why was there so much fucking guilt, heavily weighing down his heart? Why was it impossible to breathe?

Despite having been thrown together last minute, the party was admittedly going well. The rest of the boys came soon after you and Minho, helping Felix finish off the preparations and transform the space.

Jisung of course, true to his nature, came ‘fashionably late’, after the rest of the guests had already arrived. His grand entrance lacked the raining confetti he’d initially wanted, but it was still cool. After all, he should have known putting Hyunjin in charge of it was a bad idea.

By now, the party was in full swing. Jisung loved being the centre of attention, and that little fact was made increasingly evident with the way he was dancing in the middle of the living room, a pink feather boa thrown around his shoulders. There were drinks being passed around everywhere, people dancing and having fun in every corner. it reminded you of the few college parties you'd gone to.

College, safe to say, weren’t exactly the best years of your life. You didn't really have any friends, and Chan had been on your mind throughout it all. He was a barrier; blocking you from living your life as a normal person.

He sat in the back of your mind, a memory from high school that threatened to never leave you. To always stick with you, reminding you that you weren't worthy. You weren't deserving of his love...all you did was play the part of a tool, to help him get the girl he was really after. Was that really all you were good for?

It wasn’t Chan you were hung up on. The implications were what truly hurt. The thought that you wouldn’t ever be worth enough to anyone, the thought that love just didn’t exist for you.

You stood in the corner with Felix, sighing as you finished your third shot of the evening. Forget it. Focus on the party right now, the one you’re supposed to supervise.

Nodding your head to the beat, you looked over the crowd. "Damn, Changbin's a really good DJ. We saved so much money on that one..." You eyed a drunken party goer almost knocking over the vase on the table, wincing.

"This place is going to be a fucking mess by tonight, and I'm sure at least one thing will end up broken. It’s good we managed to save some money." You sighed, and Felix nodded. "Amen to that. It’ll be a nightmare to clean.'' Felix sighed, running his eyes over the floor which was already covered with a thin layer of trash.

Minho suddenly slid next to the two of you, swallowing the remnants of the clear liquid in his glass as he grabbed your arm. His words were already slurred, and he’d definitely had a lot more drinks than you.

"Don't worry, we'll all help clean up! What are we here for?”

“Hm, does that mean you guys will be staying here overnight?”

Your eyes widened slightly. No. Minho noticed your expression, humming thoughtfully before shaking his head.

“Can’t. My cats. They don’t like being alone for too long." He took your hand in his. "Y/n and I will be here early tomorrow morning to clean up."

You looked up at him thankfully, and then back at Felix. "Yeah."

He eyed the two of you, gaze flitting from one to the other. "Okay...sure.”

The music was way too loud, the floor and walls thrumming to the beat. The three of you relaxed against the wall, collectively watching as the man Hyunjin was dancing with whispered something in his ear, a cheeky smile gracing his face. The bedroom eyes were clear to see, even from here.

You frowned, narrowing your eyes at the sight. "Oh god, please tell me he's not going to-"

Hyunjin smirked, taking the man's hand and leading him off in the opposite direction, through the small crowd.

Your eyes widened. "I swear to god, if it’s my room they’re going to be fucking in, I’ll-"

Felix giggled as he patted your back sympathetically, Minho holding you back and chuckling. "Hey, hey- it's ok. I’m sure they won’t go all the way here, they’ll probably just make out in the bathroom and then go back to his place. Don’t worry."

You groaned and slumped in Minho’s hold. "I guess Hyunjin does know better."

Felix hummed in agreement, chortling. He looked over at the plates on the table that were gradually emptying, and sighed.

"Guys, wait here for a bit. Gotta refill those."

You nodded as Felix left for the kitchen, turning back to Minho. Sighing, you leaned against the wall as you looked around the room properly.

"You and Chan did a good job on the decorations."

"It was mostly him." Minho exhaled. You pressed your lips together, shrugging.

The room was dimly lit in a purple glow thanks to the lamp in the corner, as well as the plenty of stars that were hung from the ceilings. It was beautiful, and you were a little miffed that none of the guests were sober enough to truly appreciate it.

Jisung danced over to the two of you suddenly, shaking his neck and laughing loudly. "Hey you two!!” He wiggled his body to the music, grinning. “Come on guys, stop being wallflowers and come partaayyyy!"

You chuckled and shook your head. "I don't know about-"

Jisung pouted at you, coming really close to you and placing his hands on your shoulders. "Pleeeaaase? For the birthday boy?" he asked, his eyes big and puppy like, his lips formed into a pout.

You stared him down, but just couldn't resist as a smile broke out on your face. "Ugh, fine."

"Good girl!" Jisung exclaimed drunkenly as Minho smirked, chuckling to himself as Jisung took his hand as well as yours, leading the two of you into the crowd.

Jeongin was on the floor as well, surprisingly dancing up a storm as he grinned at you. Ah well. If Jeongin could, why not you? You might as well take advantage of the buzzing in your veins.

You immediately started dancing, moving your body to the beat and trying your best to look graceful and sexy. However, the alcohol was messing with your system, and it was difficult for you to coordinate your moments right.

Minho laughed fondly at your failed attempts. It was adorable, how you danced like a baby giraffe learning how to walk.

"Hey." He grabbed both of your arms, making you look at him. You looked into his eyes, a questioning look in them.

Minho inhaled. He almost forgot what he was going to say. Fuck that, he almost even forgot his own name. Did he have to feel like this every single time you so much as glanced at him?

"I'll help...this is how you dance." He moved behind you, pressing your back to his chest lightly. Your breathing turned shaky as he started guiding your movements carefully.

"See...like that. Got it?"

You nodded. "I think so..." You continued dancing, now looking a lot more sensual and less like a baby animal.

You got the hang of it soon enough. Minho was about to let go of you, but you held onto him before he could.

“Dance with mee.” You giggled, pouting up at him. He smiled down at you, inhaling.

“Okay~”

***

Chan watched from across the room as Minho and you danced, pressed to each other. He downed yet another shot, hoping the stinging alcohol would help him forget his worries and pain, at least just for a bit.

Fuck envy. It was definitely the worst of them all. Despite the anger he had towards you, all he wanted to do was march onto that dance floor and pull you away from Minho. He wanted to be the one dancing with you instead.

He was so...so unsatisfied. The alcohol melted away his inhibitions, and now his emotions were all over the place, even more so than before.

Unsatisfied. That was it. He wasn't able to be productive, wasn't doing anything with his life merely because of his unfinished business with you.

He knew he couldn’t blame you. You’d definitely come to know about the bet, probably why you’d left him. Although why Minho? God, the shock of seeing you two together that day was still fresh.

You were more than just a bet to him, and he wished you knew that. More than a blue book.

You were...you. You were the prettiest, sweetest, most talented girl he’d ever met.

You’d changed since the last time he saw you. More cynical. Rough, defensive. He didn't blame you. That...that was his fault. The reason why you were like that.

Despite that, he could still see traces of the old you. The you he’d fallen in love with. It had not gone anywhere, really. It was still inside you...somewhere.

Chan was starting to feel profound regret at the way he’d treated you. Was it stupid of him to think you’d still want him, after learning what he’d done to you?

Chan sat up as he watched Minho's hand slide around your stomach, pulling you closer to him.

Fuck, he almost wanted to throw up. He felt the anger course back into him, anger directed at you, at Minho, at his parents, everything.

That was it. He couldn't watch this, sitting in the corner drinking booze like some sort of pathetic idiot.

No, you had to get a taste of your own medicine.

Chan noticed the blonde in the crowd who had been eyeing him for ages. She was pretty enough, her features soft and smooth. On top of that, she was wearing possibly the shortest red dress he'd ever seen. Her fake tan was excessive, her cleavage abundant.

In other words, she was perfect. Perfect for him to use as he put his drunken plan into action.

Chan stood up, finishing off his drink and setting the glass down. He made his way into the crowd, sidling up to the blonde.

She smiled welcomingly, blinking up at him through her eyelashes. He grinned, glancing to the side as he moved closer to her.

Hm, you hadn't noticed yet. He had to step it up.

Placing his hands on her waist, he started moving her to the beat. Slowly he brought her closer to Minho and you, hoping that you would just look over for a second-

FInally! You noticed! A triumphant smirk formed on his face.

He wanted you to know that he didn’t need you. He wanted you to feel at least a little bit of the envy he was feeling. Again, it was the small victories that counted.

***

Your eyes wandered back to Minho, your throat feeling constricted as you tried your best to avoid the sight of Chan and the girl.

It was painful. So fucking painful.

You still haven’t moved on from him, as much as you would have liked to. Watching him dance with her was leaving a bad taste in your mouth, your throat going dry.

They were all over each other. Her hands were around his shoulders and his were on her waist, their lips dangerously close as the racy music filled the room.

You knew you were in a similar position with Minho at the moment, though. It was the alcohol blurring the lines, or you wouldn't be caught in such a compromising position with him, really.

Still. This was different...right?

Fuck it, you just wanted an excuse to be angry at him.

Chan somehow pulled the girl in closer, his hands slowly creeping down her waist and towards her ass. You swallowed and looked back at Minho before those hands could find their destination. Minho was looking at you with his eyebrow raised, his hands a little tighter on you.

"Everything okay, hm?"

"Kinda..."

"Are you sure?"

When you didn’t reply, Minho followed your gaze to Chan and the blonde, and then back to you. He put two and two together, sighing deeply.

"You deserve better, Y/n. You've got to move on." Minho swallowed.

Yes, you did deserve better. Better than Chan, and better than him. You deserved someone who didn't keep any secrets from you, someone who would never even think of manipulating you.

He despised himself for what he'd done. The way he behaved. As every second passed, the guilt grew. But how could he tell you? How could he even stand the chance of losing you?

It was his fault. Everything was his fault.

You noticed the sudden devastated expression on his face, frowning and cupping his cheeks to make him look at you.

"Minho...are you okay?"

"Mhm." Minho mumbled. "Uh...I need to go to the bathroom." His face was white as he let go of you swiftly, stumbling away as quickly as he could and disappearing in the crowd.

You watched as he left, puzzled. Fuck, now you were alone. Just great.

You groaned under your breath, feeling Chan's gaze on you. Turning around slightly, you tried to avoid him, but unfortunately your eyes had already moved of their own accord.

His lips were on her neck, her back turned to you. However, he was looking right at you, an intoxicated smirk creeping on his face as he ran his eyes over you, all alone in the middle of a dancing crowd.

Biting your lip, you clenched your fists. You turned around, wading through the sweaty, grinding bodies, and made your way to the kitchen. You needed some peace and quiet.

You filled up a glass of water, lifting it to your lips. The cool liquid ran down your throat, making you sigh in relief. It was so refreshing, a sharp contrast to the alcohol you’d been consuming all night.

You turned around, ready to go back into the room and find Minho when you slammed into a firm chest, blocking your exit.

Ugh. This couldn't be happening.

"Move."

"Shh.'' Chan shook his head, placing a finger under your chin and forcing you to look up at him. He caged you against the counter with his other arm, his eyes glazed over.

"Look. We both know- hic- that you and I have incomplete business-"

You groaned, pushing him away slightly. "You're drunk, Chan."

"I am not." He glared at you, placing his hand over his annoyingly broad chest, an offended look on his face. "Just a little tipsy, that's all..."

You cringed, looking past him at the crowd. Ugh, where was Minho? Where was Felix?

"Look at me..."

You looked back at Chan, inhaling sharply. "What do you want?"

Chan looked taken aback at your tone. He recovered slowly, stepping back and humming.

"I want…” He closed his eyes, sighing. “I want to know why you hate me." He said, his tone surprisingly even considering the amount of alcohol he’d knocked back.

"I- are you seriously asking me that question right now?" You asked incredulously. Seriously, how fucking dense could he be?

"I am, Y/n. answer me." His slurred voice turned into a growl as he leaned in close.

"I was nothing but nice to you, when no one else was...I loved you, I-"

You scoffed, interrupting him. "Oh wow, thank you so much.” You said sarcastically. “I think you and I both know all that was fake. You were fake, Chan- it didn't mean anything to you-"

Chan slammed his hand on the counter next to you, making you flinch.

"But it did! It fucking meant everything to me. It was the only thing that ever meant anything, and I'm sorry it had to happen the way it did, sorry I lost that damn boo-"

"A simple sorry is not going to make me forgive you." You shook your head. "Get off me, Chan."

"I don't want you to forgive me! For fuck's sakes, I just-" He breathed in, his voice turning soft as he ran a hand through his hair, his breathing shaky.

"I just want to know why you chose him over me. He- he was worse-"

"Huh?" His words were too slurred for you to recognize. "Look, Chan-"

"Shut up." Chan shook his head, leaning in further. For a second, he scanned your eyes with his.

Fuck, he couldn’t believe he was about to do this.

Inhaling softly, he smashed his lips against yours.

It took you by complete surprise. Your heart felt like it was exploding- like a million, elephant sized butterflies were threatening to burst out. Shit, his lips were so fucking soft.

Was this actually happening?

It was. Insistent, yet gentle...his lips were all you could focus on. It felt overwhelmingly real, nothing like a dream.

Warm. He’s so warm...

You resisted him for all of half a second, before melting into the kiss. Your hands snaked around his neck as he placed his under your thighs, lifting you up onto the counter. You were quickly getting yourself lost in him, the feeling of his lips on yours so familiar and yet so new.

"Can't- can't get enough of you, don't think I ever will-" He mumbled incoherently against your mouth, his grip on you tight as he pressed against you.

Your mind was completely blank. There was no pride or anger in your head anymore, just Chan Chan Chan. His plump lips, moving against yours so passionately and swallowing all your breaths. It was partly due to the alcohol, yes- but also all the tension. Years of wondering if this moment would happen again.

And now it was.

“Chan-” You whispered into the kiss, tears pricking at your eyes.

This was a bad idea, it really was- you shouldn't be kissing him back like this. You were supposed to be mad at him- you were supposed to prove to him that you'd moved on. That you wouldn't let anyone use you like that ever again.

And yet here you were, right back at square 1.

"Please, please..." he whispered, nipping at your already swollen lips with fervor as he dove right back in, caressing your back.

His heart was pounding, unable to believe you were actually in his arms. Shit, he knew this was such a terrible idea. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

It was wrong, he knew it. Even if he believed he loved you more than Minho ever could, it was still wrong. You weren't his, and he had to learn to accept that.

But...he needed one last kiss. One last kiss to let him know if you were a lost cause, or if you truly were meant to be his. He wanted to know. And so he deepened the kiss further, making you let out a small squeak that only made him want you more.

"Guys?"

Chan pulled away, dropping you to the floor quickly as soon as he heard Seungmin's voice.

Seungmin eyed the two of you, suspicion covering his face. You swallowed, subtly pulling down your skirt as you blinked, trying to adjust to the light that flooded your eyes. “Seung-”

Shit. Was that Minho, slumped against Seungmin’s body?

He looked between the two of you, sighing as he saw your eyes on Minho. Minho’s eyes were closed, his forehead covered in sweat and his body limp. You moved forward, quickly rushing over to his side. “What happened?”

"Found him in the bathroom. He threw up, was crying on the floor. He didn’t tell me why...I’m assuming he’s just way too drunk."

Minho looked up slowly, blinking and staring at you as he registered your face. "Y/n...." he stretched out an arm towards you, whining.

Seungmin groaned, Minho's weight clearly too much for him to support. "Y/n, please take him home. He needs rest. I'll explain to Jisung."

You couldn't look at Chan as you nodded. You carefully trained your stare on Minho as you went over to Seungmin, letting him transfer the man to you.

"Min...you okay?"

He shook his head, gasping as he tried to take oxygen in. His eyes travelled past you, landing on a very remorseful Chan, his face covered in embarrassment.

You bit your lip, stroking his hair. “I’ll get him to the car. Tell Felix we’re going home, okay?”

Seungmin nodded, heading back into the living room to find Felix after shooting a last glance at Chan.

You pressed down the urge to look back at him. Don’t do it, Y/n. You need to go home and re-evaluate your decision-making. Fuck, why didn’t you push him away?

You ignored the delightful tingling of your lips as you helped Minho out, most of the partiers completely oblivious as you dragged him out to the car, with a lot of difficulty.

You opened the passenger door with one hand, helping Minho in. He looked like he was on the verge of falling asleep, his mouth slightly open as he let out a soft snore. Chuckling to yourself, you patted his head before getting into the driver’s seat. You weren’t drunk enough to warrant calling a taxi, so you might as well save some money.

Tonight was...eventful, to say the least.

Minho cracked one eye open slowly, watching as you drove. His eyes were burning, his throat aching. He hated feeling like this, he really did. He wished he hadn’t gotten this drunk. The alcohol and his sudden overflow of emotions did not mix well, and had ultimately resulted in him bent over the toilet bowl.

There was only one way to get rid of this fucking guilt. Minho wasn’t quite sure yet if he could go through with it, though.

There was a lot of thinking to do.

***

Chan stood near the counter. He couldn’t bring himself to move, his eyes unfocused as he replayed the scenes over and over in his head.

He couldn’t believe he’d done that. The one thing he’d told himself not to do. Don’t fall for her again. You got your heart broken once, why are you so eager to let it happen once more?

Regret. It was on all three minds, tonight.

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