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tonicandjins · 11 months

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frequent flyers | lee donghyuck

CHARACTERS: haechan | lee donghyuck x fem reader

WORD COUNT: 13k

GENRE: angst, fluff, smut (non-linear) | best friends to strangers

AUTHOR'S NOTE: read with caution. this is written in a non-linear form, so you don't know when it's going to hurt ;) this is a dh x reader version of my markhyuck fic from ao3, but with a different ending

frequent flyers is the third installment from 23 moments with donghyuck

Donghyuck looks beautiful like this: skin glowing under the dainty string lines and lined up lanterns hanging from the high ceilings, lips curled up to genuine smile instead of the usual teasing smirk plastered on his mouth, cheeks tainted in berry red—a single manifestation of the glasses of wine he’s had tonight, eyes round and sincere and everything you’ve ever known.

Zhong Chenle’s mellifluous voice echoes in the banquet, singing to the tune of lover as the newly weds take their first dance (third song in) in the middle of the floor, surrounded by couples and lovers swaying. From your peripheral view, you catch a glimpse of Park Jisung sneaking his phone out and recording the whole thing—after Chenle clearly mentioned no one else aside from the newlyweds’ assigned videographer is allowed to film him.

On other days, you’d love to listen to Chenle’s golden voice, and he knows this because from all the years you’ve known him, you’d supported his career and you’d spend many hours sitting in his studio, listening to him record, or sitting somewhere halfway across the world, watching him write his songs. I can listen to him sing all day, you’d say, but as the night jumps deeper into its darkness, you realize how excruciatingly long his 15-minute medley went by.

You look across the room.

Donghyuck looks enthralling like this: beautiful even after all these years, charming like he’s the day he turned 21, grown, earnest, and at ease. It’s agonizing to look at from where you sit across the room—hands wrapped around her waist, eyes closing as he leans in, drunk, drunk, drunk like the night you’d left him, heart void of you.

You begin to count.

At 27, you’re pretty much done with all kinds of romance the world could offer.

Unlike the person sitting next to you, you prefer to listen to Blushing Youth than watch some high-rated romantic comedy film during your 12-hour flight from Heathrow to Incheon, and while you’ve been moving around for most of your life (having earned your nickname as frequent flyer, credits to Jisung), flying is not one of the things you’re fond of. In fact, it’s not in the long list of strengths you brag about in your LinkedIn bio. You reckon it would truly be embarrassing, to say the least, to ask a stranger to distract you from the sound of the aircraft’s engine running at full power as it takes off from the runway, hence you opt to blast Ahn Jiyoung’s voice right in your eardrums.

It’s odd, people would say, for someone who’s supposedly mastered the art of moving from one country to another to be so terrified of flights, but if people want you to be completely honest, nothing sounds more horrifying than the thought of seeing Lee Donghyuck after years of radio silence.

As pathetic as it sounds, your heart still skips a beat—three, sometimes—at the thought of him.

Donghyuck, who used to be your sun, who had you orbiting around his gravitational pull for years, who used to be so close but not enough to have, who—if you think about it now—might have never been the center of your solar system after all, but maybe just a shooting star passing by.

The plane takes off, roughly and loud like you’d expected, and you catch a glimpse of a scene from Love, Rosie from the person sitting beside you and immediately regret going coach instead of flying business like how you would if your flights last more than ten hours. You hate this film; you hate it because Alex is to Rosie, like how Donghyuck is to you.

Alex and Rosie, like you and Donghyuck, are—were—long-time best friends who used to be inseparable until one day they’re not. Rosie misses her chance. Alex stops yearning, hoping, waiting, and finally decides to get on with his life. It’s a story of a bunch of tangled webs—a messy tumbleweed of missed calls and delayed flights, of long nights and short days, of forgotten promises and faded hope.

The film introduces new people, bids goodbye to old chapters, but in the end it’s Alex and Rosie.

And you wish that’s how your story went. You don’t end up kissing him in your very own hotel with an awe-striking view of the horizon right outside the window.

You bury the thought before you start missing him again. You run out of tracks from Blushing Youth’s discography like how you run dry from thinking about what happens next when your plane lands.

Might as well sleep it off.

A sharp, jabbing pain on your left leg wakes you up from your unscheduled sleep. Hissing, you find Donghyuck sitting on top of your legs.

“I swear to God,” you breathe, kicking your best friend’s weight off your limbs. “I will freaking kill you.”

“Dude, what’s wrong with saying fuck? You’re literally twenty,” Donghyuck replies, moving further so his entire body crushes yours, and you have to pretend that his warmth doesn’t make you feel some type of way, hence you push him as hard as you can until he falls onto the carpeted floor of your room.

He falls with a thump. “Screw you,” he mumbles, mouth forming a pout that you’d gladly smack out of his face—except you’d do it with your very own lips. “It’s almost one in the afternoon. Why are you napping?”

“Good question, Donghyuck,” you start, sitting up and rubbing your eyes while looking for the pair of specs that Donghyuck is already shoving towards your direction; you gladly take it. “Unlike you, I had to work in the café until one in the morning. I hate being rostered in the closing shift, but it pays damn well. Plus, I forgot to do my laundry so I had to throw my clothes in before I slept.

“Overworking again, I see,” he muses, sighing as he scoots to sit cross-legged across you on the bed too tiny for two people.

“The last week of the semester always sucks balls,” you answer, tilting your head in attempts to stretch your stiffened neck and get some kind of relief. “Why are you here anyway? Shouldn’t you be out there doing something stupid with Na Jaemin?”

“There’s a music festival on Friday,” he starts right away. “Jaemin’s wondering if I’d be interested to go, says he could get us some free passes from the guy he’s hooking up with. Apparently, the guy is DJ-ing.”

You blink. “Which one? Lee Jeno? Or Yoon Sanha?” you ask, genuinely curious because Jaemin is Jaemin and he could never be caught exclusively hooking up with one person.

Donghyuck shrugs. “Does it matter? Is it a yes or a no? That’s the question.”

He begins to fiddle with his fingers, playing with the rings on his long, delicate digits, and you recognize it almost instantly. Donghyuck is nervous. You might have an idea why.

“Is this you finally asking me out, Lee Donghyuck?” you half-joke, scratching your head. Donghyuck looks anywhere but your face. A glimpse of his eyes is all you need, because if the eyes are the windows to one’s soul, then Donghyuck’s are wide open, with no curtains and bare from all layers—at least that’s how they are to you. His eyes are wavering, and though he’s mastered the ability to keep his face tough as steel, those orbs could only do so little when it comes to hiding from you.

So, you smile, reaching out and leaning closer, kneeling until you’re face to face with him. “Only kidding, Hyuck,” you say finally, taking it easy because this conversation is not for one who’s hazy from sleep and one who can’t even look at the other in the eyes. “Of course, I’ll come with you. Who else can you bring anyway?”

Donghyuck looks up, rolling his eyes; he’s back. “You’re not really irreplaceable,” he replies smugly. “Don’t think too highly of yourself.”

You poke your tongue out and reach over your night stand to check your phone; at the same time, Donghyuck starts biting his fingernails. You don’t think twice—like blinking, a habit, natural—and reach out to pull his hand away, mumbling about how he should start working on getting rid of this bad habit of his. Donghyuck’s hand is warmer compared to yours, and he lets out a whine, complaining about your freezing hands, but squeezes you hand back anyway.

You are content with this. You hope Donghyuck is, too.

The lingering touches. The stolen kisses. The piercing glances.

While they all seem fleeting and simple, they mean the most to you. You begin to think if Donghyuck feels the same as he pulls you closer until you’re both back lying on his bed, your cheek resting on top of Donghyuck’s warm, cloth-covered chest. You wonder if he means it, when he says you’re not irreplaceable and that maybe you’re a little too comfortable, a little too satisfied with whatever it is that you have.

On a drunken night, Donghyuck may have asked you once. You remember it and think about it so much that sometimes it felt like a dream.

“How long, Y/N,” he had asked, his voice an octave deeper than usual, gaze a shade darker. “How long until you let yourself just lose it? For once, just—just please, let your feelings consume you.”

You didn’t want to—not then, not now—because it’s going to hurt.

It’s going to hurt because it’s Donghyuck.

It’s Donghyuck who feels like home, whose hands are warm enough for your cold ones, your own little sun. Losing him is the extinction of your solar system.

“Y/N,” he had whined when you didn’t reply, shaking you, pleading. “When are you going to want for more? I want you to ask me for more.”

But Donghyuck had passed out before you had the chance to think of an answer—time frame—and you wonder what your answer would have been if Donghyuck stayed awake for a couple more minutes.

“I guess napping at this time of the day doesn’t sound too bad,” Donghyuck murmurs against your hair, kissing it before relaxing. “Set an alarm for me. 3 pm.”

You hope Donghyuck asks you again, not this time, but you hope the question lingers in his mind a little longer.

He falls asleep to the sound of your breathing.

When the person sitting next to you finally wakes up, you could only sigh in relief.

The aircraft has landed a few minutes ago, and your flight seatmate slept so soundly that it took you a couple of minutes to shake her awake.

The 12-hour flight is a pain in the ass, and you wish you mean that figuratively. Waiting was something that you were once good at, and Renjun often told you he wished he had half the patience you had. If you think about it now and reflect whether you’re as patient and as willing to wait as before, you’d changed vastly. Ridiculous, how one could change so much in a lifetime.

Huang Renjun is standing behind a barricade when you finally reach the arrival area after going through immigration. He’s holding a piece of paper that says WELCOME HOME, Y/N! Renjun doesn’t give you the time to cross the boundary because he attacks you in bone-crushing hug the second he’s allowed to. You almost topple over him, your glasses at risk of either falling out of your face and into the cold, hard ground, or being crushed between your nose and Renjun’s shoulder.

Renjun chants your nickname over and over again, swaying both your bodies left and right as though you weighed nothing. “I’m literally about to combust. My chest has been pounding since I arrived here. You have no idea how much I missed you, and you were taking forever to go through immigration.”

“Oh, Huang Renjun,” you sigh, inhaling his scent and returning the hug. “Some things never change. You’re still the sweetest when you miss people. Absence really makes the heart grow fond.”

Renjun pulls away to get a good look on you. “Y/N, you’re all grown up. I can’t believe you resisted not seeing me in person for four years.”

“You’re just as grown up as I am,” you reply. “We Facetime each other every other day. What are you talking about?”

“It’s never the same,” he mumbles and helps you with your luggage despite it only being one small luggage, a small duffel bag, and your small backpack. He starts nagging as soon as he notices how small your baggage is.

“You were away for literally four years and you think packing three old shirts and a pair of jeans will be enough to get you through your entire trip here?” Renjun gasps. “You’re stupid if you think Chenle and Jisung are allowing you to leave after what we’re all here for. They have an entire month planned out the second you agreed to come home.”

“I didn’t bring only three shirts, for your information. And I did bring a few pairs of trousers and a coat, plus my dress for the wedding,” you defend. “And I can’t extend my trip here. I thought we’ve all got that one settled.”

Renjun laughs, as if what you said is some kind of joke, as he leads you towards the exit of the airport. “You know we would 100%, without hesitation, burn your passport if it means we could make you stay longer, don’t you? I hope you don’t underestimate us like that.”

You chuckle at his empty threat, your chest swelling at the thought of your long-time friends being thrilled of your arrival in Seoul. You wonder how much has changed in the last four years, and you reckon nothing much has when it comes to your friends. You’d left when most of you were twenty-three, and the only person you’d ever seen in person since then was Chenle, who at that time, had business in London so he stayed where you lived instead of a luxurious hotel he could afford.

“We’re heading to Chenle’s place,” Renjun announces as soon as you sit comfortably in the passenger seat of his car. “But he’s still in his studio recording something, so he won’t be around until maybe five.”

“Why are we going to Chenle’s place if he’s not there yet?” you ask. “He didn’t tell me he had work.”

“We’ve all worked around our schedules to meet you today,” Renjun explains as he turns the ignition on and starts backing up. “And everyone knows his home’s passcode. Remember back in college when his stupid fancy condo eventually became everyone’s? That’s still how it is now. Only this time, he owns a penthouse in Gangnam’s most expensive building. What a spoiled brat.”

“He earned it,” you comment.

Renjun hums. An old track from the local radio station plays just as the vehicle exits the airport’s parking area. You hadn’t heard this song in years, but your mouth sings the lyrics as though it’s only been yesterday.

Renjun is amused. “Some things never really change.”

Donghyuck suddenly changes his hair color on Sophomore year in college. You, on the other hand, are about to have an aneurysm.

Na Jaemin makes fun of you, laughs as if your reaction is the most hilarious thing he’s ever seen his entire life. He deems it as the best day of his life.

“Jaemin, am I a fucking joke to you?” you ask. Jaemin doesn’t even bother to answer. “You think this is funny?”

You almost choke on nothing when Donghyuck decides to walk towards the table you’re sharing with Jaemin inside the university’s very own cafeteria. He’s holding a tray of food for lunch. The man himself has a shy smile on his face, evidently aware of the attention that the people around are giving him because of his newly-dyed pink hair, and you can’t really blame anyone if they stared a little longer.

Because Donghyuck is already beautiful, with his shining eyes and glowing skin and a smile that could make the earth stop orbiting around the sun.

But this Donghyuck, Pink Sun as Jaemin had started calling him, he’s something else. You might pass out if you look at him a little longer.

“I told you pink looks amazing on you!” Jaemin exclaims as soon as Donghyuck is close enough.

Donghyuck instantly blushes, but covers it up with a smug smirk across his mouth.

“Careful,” Donghyuck warns. “I don’t want you getting hurt if I reject you.”

Jaemin gasps, “You would never!”

Donghyuck playfully sticks out his tongue on Jaemin and finally, finally, turns towards you. Your breath is caught in a hitch. Donghyuck tilts his head slightly and you’re about to punch himself in the face.

“What do you think?” the man asks, smiling cheekily. “Do you think I look better blond or pink-haired?”

You swallow. It takes you great power not to pull Donghyuck and kiss him squarely on the mouth.

Blond Donghyuck was a menace in the society. Pink Sun is giving you a heart attack.

But you’re not about to make things too obvious, so you shrug and mutter a small “either is fine.” Jaemin kicks you under the table. Donghyuck sighs, taking out his phone to open its front camera, probably to check himself out as he brushes his fingertips in his hair.

“You’re cheap, Y/N,” he says, putting his phone down. “I basically burn my scalp to get this hair color and pull it off better than Lee Taeyong ever will, and all I get from you is, ‘either is fine.’”

Jaemin laughs hysterically, taking his phone out as Donghyuck takes the empty seat beside you—like always, because seats beside you are always reserved for him. Donghyuck carefully places the tray of food he got, immediately, your eyes catch the extra drink he has and your heart somersaults because you know it’s for you.

And this is supposed to be normal. Your friends tell you it’s a routine—every day—and you and him do things for each other like second nature. So, why does it make your heart race like this?

Your phone chimes as Donghyuck starts eating.

“We really need to work on your communication skills,” the text message from Jaemin says.

Your comprehension in Korean went from bad to worse, if it’s even possible.

Renjun is currently roasting you for it, while Jisung and Kim Minjeong are arguing about what to eat. You tell them how small the Asian community in London is as compared to other countries. Jaemin announces that Mark Lee just boarded his flight from Vancouver, too, and you cheer, excited to see him as well after all these years. Yoo Jimin calls out Jisung and Minjeong’s bullshit and says she’d already ordered from the nearest restaurant.

How you all end up in Chenle’s penthouse before the owner himself is aware, you have no idea. All you know is that things have not really changed that much.

You feel a little disoriented, your mind still a little hazy from the 12-hour trip, and you hate that the jetlag is hitting you as early as now. You feel like you could fall asleep anytime soon.

Then you hear familiar voices faintly coming from the door, then the door itself being unlocked. You observe from the digital clock above Chenle’s fancy television that it’s only nearly two in the afternoon, so it’s not Chenle who’s coming in.

Donghyuck appears from the door before you realize it, and he takes your breath away before you could even look him in the eyes.

“Sorry, we’re late,” the dark-haired man says, his voice making you feel suffocated, stepping out of his boots because God forbid anyone who steps inside Zhong Chenle’s penthouse wearing the outdoor shoes.

Lee Jeno enters behind him, his eye smile ready to meet you, while Jaemin says they arrived just in time for lunch. All is a blur and everything sounds like white noise, because Donghyuck looks at you in the eyes with the softest gaze, the smallest smile, and suddenly it doesn’t feel so cold in Seoul.

Jeno walks past him and finds his space beside Jaemin. You hear Renjun and Jisung start arguing about another thing. All while Donghyuck stays still from where he stands, about ten feet away from your space, eyes still on you.

When they’re done dancing, Donghyuck walks with her, holding her hand and keeping her close.

He passes by, doesn’t even take a glance to your direction.

Donghyuck looks at you in amusement.

“It was terrible,” you grunt. “The worst day of my life.”

He giggles and pulls you in his arms, kissing the top of your head while you stand in the middle of the room. You’re still dressed in your warm clothes as you’d just arrived from the airport. You sigh in relief because you’ve been waiting for this all weekend.

“Don’t be too dramatic,” he mumbles. “Your cousin’s going to be ballistic if he learns that you called his wedding the worst day of your life.”

“You should’ve gone there with me,” you muse. “They were introducing me to so many people, and my uncle knows I’m shit at socializing, therefore forcing me to hang out with people I barely know is like stabbing me in the eye and asking me how many fingers you’re holding up.”

Donghyuck chuckles. “What could I have done if I were there?”

You smile, burying your face in his warm chest. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Then why’d you need me there?” Donghyuck asks again. You know he’s teasing you now, poking until he gets the answer he wants to hear. And you’re not about to deny Donghyuck of that. Besides, nothing is more satisfying than knowing you could make Donghyuck feel flustered despite of his strong, wild persona. So, you reach up and kiss him on the chin and hug him closer.

“Because nothing is as bad as it seems when you’re around, my love.”

Donghyuck begins to pull away, making you hold onto him tighter, as if your hands would grow cold without touching him. Donghyuck only laughs, allowing you to hug him longer, and you wonder if you could stretch this night out for as long as he can.

The moment passes by quickly.

“Donghyuck, will you at least listen to me?”

“I’m done, Y/N.”

Renjun announces he’s done cleaning up.

Jaemin doesn’t waste a single second, getting up from his space on the other couch and announces it’s time they really catch up with everyone. It turns out that Jimin herself just got back from Germany yesterday as well, while Minjeong took a week off from work, and all had waited for you to come home before gathering in Chenle’s place.

“Mark’s a piece of shit, just like you,” Jeno comments when asked why the older didn’t take the earliest flight. Apparently, like yourself, Mark couldn’t get a couple of weeks off from work, hence he’d decided to travel a few days before the wedding, which is essentially why you all had a reason to gather once again after all these years.

“Why are you all harassing me and Mark for not being able to take a longer leave from work?” you whine, throwing a cushion towards where Jeno is seated, right beside Jimin. “It’s not like we can help it!”

Minjeong snorts, “You could’ve said you have COVID or something.”

You snicker. “Only you could think of that, Minjeong-ah.”

Jeno talks about his recent flight to Yonagunijima in Okinawa for a business trip. Renjun tells him he’s never gone that far in Japan, his farthest trip being in Osaka; Jeno says he can take him there anytime he gets some free time from work. Jaemin hypes up Jisung’s newly built dance studio and the contract he’d just signed with the biggest entertainment company in Asia, to which Jisung only downplays and says it’s not that big of deal.

You and Donghyuck stay quiet while everyone else talks over one another. He sits at the other end of the same couch you’re sitting on while Jisung occupies the space between you and him. Renjun probably feels the tension, so he cuts it.

“Donghyuck, what have you been up to?” Renjun asks, reaching over for a piece of chocolate you’d stolen from Chenle’s fridge.

Donghyuck shrugs. “Renjun-ah, don’t act like we don’t see each other every weekend.”

Renjun scoffs. “We’re here to catch up. Do you want me to tell them what you’ve been up to myself?”

Donghyuck throws a cushion and misses. “Nothing’s new about me, guys. Nothing that’s interesting enough.” Then, he leans forward and turns to you. “Maybe Y/N has anything to say. I mean, she’s the one who’s been away the longest.”

It takes you aback, the interaction unexpected, and gets you stuttering. “I’m—There’s really nothing, I mean.”

Donghyuck laughs lightly. “Loosen up. You look like you’d rather be elsewhere but here.”

“It’s not like that,” you defend. “It’s just—jetlag.”

“Of course,” Donghyuck nods. “How long was the flight?”

“Twelve hours,” you answer. Renjun does his best, distracting everyone else with a new conversation so you and Donghyuck, you assume, would feel more comfortable rather than have everyone listen to you talking with the person you used to know the best. Jisung tries to subtly leave, pretending like he needs to go to the restroom, and you know it’s a tactic because you also know Jisung like the back of your hand.

Donghyuck immediately moves closer, taking the space Jisung used to sit on, the distance pulling the air out of your lungs.

“And my flight was delayed for a couple of hours because of a storm,” you continue, clearing your voice. “So, fourteen hours in total, plus one hour from Incheon to Gangnam.”

Donghyuck nods. “Well, you fly frequently.”

You nod back. “Not that frequently anymore. Since the pandemic, I’ve been working from home a lot; there was no need to travel after all. Or move to a different country. It turns out we can do everything virtually.”

Donghyuck chuckles, almost sarcastically. “What a shame that the entire world realized suddenly that everything could work virtually.”

You smile, sadly almost. “Yeah. What a shame.”

“I didn’t get the whole thing,” Jisung sighs. “What a shame. The last parts were the best.”

“You know Chenle’s going to kill you if he finds out you took a video, right?”

Jisung nods proudly. “That was the point.”

“Lia, wait,” Donghyuck’s voice echoes—not loud enough to catch anyone else’s attention, but definitely enough for you. You watch him follow Lia out.

You decide you’ve had enough. The wedding’s done now, anyway. There’s nothing left for you here.

Jisung looks at you. “Y/N.”

“Just need some space, Jisung,” you say. “I’m okay.”

“You’re lying,” You gasp, almost dropping your iPad upon Donghyuck’s revelation. “Holy shit, Donghyuck, that’s huge!”

“Never thought I’d hear that in another context but thanks, my love,” Donghyuck replies, a proud smile etched on his mouth. He reaches over and shows you a piece of paper, the confirmation of his participation in a convention in Shanghai a couple of weeks from now.

“Wait until Jaemin hears this,” You ramble, already on his phone to text said friend about the good news. “He’s going to throw a party for you.”

“You guys are too proud of me,” Donghyuck whines. “What if I end up being such a flop outside my comfort zone? There are going to be so many amazing artists out there. I heard some vocal majors from Konkuk are attending the conference with me, and I am already terrified of them. I can't imagine myself once I'm surrounded by even more talented and more intimidating singers."

You put down your tablet on your desk, sighing as you step closer towards Donghyuck. You’re in the apartment you share with Jimin, and Donghyuck called in earlier to tell you he’s got some great news. Neither of you really have much time to meet these days, with your internship at Seoul's biggest web developer company and the drastic changes in Donghyuck's schedule, it's a little too difficult to hang out in the safety of your apartment.

Donghyuck is evidently taken aback when you suddenly wrap an arm around his neck, tumbling when you pull him closer and kisses the air out of his lungs. You regret closing your eyes when your lips touch, thinking about the way Donghyuck looks like whenever you kiss him like this. Like Donghyuck's all you’ve ever needed. Like all the years of pining and hurting are expressed in a single kiss. Like it's everything you’ve always wanted and more.

It's not the first time you kiss—you’ve lost count you made out in the back of Jeno’s car two months ago while all your friends are drunk and out of their minds—but it always feels like it is.

Donghyuck's lips are soft, soft, soft, and you can never get enough of the kissing him. The first, featherlight, a little hesitant touch of your lips would be your second favorite part (the favorite is when Donghyuck's licking your mouth and nibbles on your lower lip), and his hands, his delicate hands would always be in your hair, pulling and pressing and touching.

It's perfect. Donghyuck pulls you down with him on your very own bed, letting you sit on his lap.

He's kissing you everywhere, your lips, your cheeks, your nose, your neck, your jaw, but he stops when you begin to unbutton his shirt. You look down on him, confused and eager and dazed, and usually, Donghyuck would give in without a single fight, but this time he stops you.

"What are we doing, Y/N?" Donghyuck lets out, like he's been holding this breath forever and now he's finally exhaling it.

"We're," you start, confused why he’s asking all of a sudden, but you don’t really have an answer to that. "We're—”

"Messing around. Having fun while we can," Donghyuck finishes, quoting your own words the first time you hooked up. "I know. But that was before, right? What about now? What are we doing now?"

Your hands drop on Donghyuck's side. Donghyuck quickly takes both of them in his, giving you a comforting squeeze, as if he's encouraging you to say something. To be brave. To let go.

"We can't go on like this if you don't answer me, Y/N," Donghyuck says softly. "I know what I want, and you know that it's you. Just you. From the beginning. As long as I live. And you are making me happy right now. But I need to know if this is what you want, too."

"Love, I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't want you," you explain, eyes wavering.

"Y/N, listen to me," Donghyuck urges, letting go of one of your hands to hold your face so you could look into each other's eyes. "Tell me now. Tell me now, honestly, if this is something you would want in the long run."

"Donghyuck," You sigh, like you’re begging for Donghyuck to stop asking. But Donghyuck doesn't let his guard down. He keeps his hands on you, waiting.

You want nobody else but Donghyuck, too. From the beginning. For as long as you live. And Donghyuck is making you happy, and you know well that Donghyuck will make you happy in the long run. The last two months of whatever game you’re playing had been fun. There was no agreement on being exclusive, no rules of some sort, and it all fell into place like you and him are supposed to end up like this. You hadn’t put a label on it, but you and Donghyuck are best friends for many years now. You went through growing pains together, survived each one of the flights you frequently took around the world, went to the same college together, and you don’t really see the point of rushing for a label now.

Because you have other things in mind other than what you feel right now. You have codes to master and board directors to impress. Donghyuck has auditions to pass and flights to catch as well, and now, an opportunity in Shanghai. Not to mention you’re both cramming to have the best credentials to get you the best job after graduation. Now is not really the best time.

So, just like many happenstances in your life, you come up with a stupid, stupid answer.

"I—I don't know, Donghyuck," you say nervously. "I mean, you're clearly making me happy. And I don't plan on seeing anyone else, but I haven't really gotten around to think about it."

Donghyuck takes his touch away all of a sudden. You reach out to hold his hands in place back to your face, but he lets go.

"Think about it?" Donghyuck asks, voice shaking. "What is there to think about? It's a simple question, Y/N. Do you want me for a long time or am I just some good fuck for you?"

"Donghyuck, why are you saying that?" you retort, angry now. "I just said you make me happy. And I'm not playing with you. I just—it's—with all the things going on in my life and yours, a relationship is not something I can maintain right now."

"Maintain?" Donghyuck chuckles, pulling his hands away, gently pushing you off his lap and standing away from your bed to put some space between you and him. "Y/N, we've been best friends since we were in high school. Literally nothing has changed for us except we kiss and fuck now. What is there to think about? I really do not understand."

You sigh. The sound of it makes Donghyuck pull away further until he’s picking up his backpack.

"Donghyuck, wait," You say, but Donghyuck is already out of his room, barefoot, his shoes in his hands.

Barefoot, his shoes in one hand, two bottles of beer on the other, Donghyuck finds you by the pool outside the wedding reception. He sits beside you and mimics the way you rolled the bottom of your dress up to your thighs so it doesn’t get wet and does the same with his expensive trousers.

“What are you doing out here?” you muse, eyes staring blankly at the way your feet look blurred out underwater. “Shouldn’t you be inside getting drunk and having the time of your life?”

Donghyuck chuckles, his cheeks painted like cherries, mouth glazed like strawberries, and hands you the cold bottle of beer. “I’m already drunk. Do you think I’d have the courage to come find you here if I was sober?”

You nod, taking the bottle from his hand. “Good point. Fun party?”

“Jaemin and Jeno never fail to organize the best party,” he stammers. “They used to invite everyone in their shared apartment to play the American games they learned from Johnny-hyung. I can’t believe they’re married now.”

Jaemin and Jeno, the very reason why all of you gathered after all these years, have always been destined for each other, and you know this because you’d seen them start off as nothing and watched them turn to everything. Their wedding had been the sole reason why you’d returned to Seoul.

“I always knew they’d end up together,” you mutter, drinking from the cold bottle. “I used to manifest it. I said it all the time I saw them together.”

Donghyuck giggles. “You used to believe in the law of attraction so much. You manifested everything that’s happened in your life.”

“I did, didn’t I?” you reply, tasting the bitterness coming from the drink, a reminder why you prefer any other drink aside from beer.

It’s quite for a minute until Donghyuck talks.

“Why didn’t you manifest us?” he says suddenly, words a little grumbled. He’s probably had too much to drink already. You hold onto him naturally as his head starts swaying until his head is leaning against your shoulder, close enough to hear each other breathing. “Y/N, why did you never say we’d end up together like this, too? You were so damn good with this law of attraction bullshit. You could’ve manifested our wedding, too.”

Donghyuck is drunk, and drunk Donghyuck is always vulnerable. His tone of voice is enough for you to decide to cut this trip shorter than it already is. A week, you had promised Jeno and Jaemin, you’d leave two days after the wedding. But at this moment, when you’re frozen in place, Donghyuck’s warmth touching your coldness, you begin to ponder if it had been a good idea to come back in Seoul at all.

You love Jeno and Jaemin and would do anything for them in a heartbeat. Therefore, when the couple announced their engagement two months ago, it had been a quick, solid yes, of course, I’ll be there because you wouldn’t miss their wedding for the world, even if it had been exactly four years and two months since the last time you’d breathed the air of Seoul and that you’d rather die than be in a 12-hour flight, you swore you’d be with your friends during such a huge chapter of their lives.

Your schedules were immediately reconstructed, a ticket to Seoul safely tucked in the files in your desk’s drawer, and all your friends from London were already asking you to bring something back from Seoul when your trip is over. It was all set, with the promise of checking in with your teammates from work during your one-week leave, and it was the easiest itinerary you’d ever made. What you failed to prepare, truly, is yourself.

Somehow, you knew this would happen. You knew coming back would mean seeing Donghyuck. And seeing Donghyuck means opening wounds you’re not certain have healed and resuming conversations you’d never wanted to go back to. And this means, at any given time Donghyuck is within your space, you’d be a goner.

Because four years, it turns out, isn’t enough to get over him.

Quite funny, if you think about it now, how after all these years, you’re still orbiting around him.

You clear your throat, no words coming out, and Donghyuck starts to fall asleep against your shoulder.

Your right shoulder feels sore after falling asleep on your side on Chenle’s couch the morning after Jaemin and Jeno’s bachelor party. It was crazy, to say the least, and you’d decided to drink your guts to in hopes of not remembering anything in the morning. It sucks because you’re stupidly hungover and you remember everything.

The group was divided into two. You, Renjun, Donghyuck, and Minjeong were in charge of Jaemin in the other side of the city, courtesy of Jung Jaehyun for sponsoring and personally planning the grand party for his favorite dongsaeng. Meanwhile, Jisung, Chenle, Mark, and Jimin had planned Jeno’s very own party, along with Lee Taeyong who funded the event.

If you’re being completely honest, you’d think that after college, your friends would lose their sparks in setting up amazing parties, but last night proved you wrong.

The alcohol was disgusting, but you like that it made Renjun do things he wouldn’t do sober. Jaemin refused to get shit-faced drunk because his wedding is in two days, his hangovers usually last an entire day—he doesn’t want to show up at his own wedding looking like a zombie. Minjeong, well, she’s Minjeong, so she was just all over the place, nagging and getting drunk. She’s also a snob who thinks so highly of herself despite being the youngest in the group and liked to look down on her older friends all while attempting to stand upright after downing five shots of tequila.

Donghyuck, however, decided to bring his new girlfriend. Her name is Lia. And the only goal last night was to stay as far away as possible.

You knew that the relationship was new because Jisung filled you in before you had all parted ways for the parties, said that Donghyuck started dating her two months ago right around the time Jaemin and Jeno got engaged, Jimin being their bridge because Lia and Jimin have been friends since last year. Apparently, Lia’s been interested with him for years now; she just never had the chance because like you, Donghyuck also disappeared in and out from Seoul for a couple of years until he’d decided to stay here for good two years ago.

You can’t remember how many shots you had and how many cocktails were handed to you last night, but you wish you had more because it was evidently not enough to erase the scenarios from last night. It wasn’t enough to blur out the memories of Donghyuck holding her, kissing her, dancing with her, and just all out being a lovey-dovey boyfriend.

It’s a relief that you got home safely. There was no designated driver because the plan was to really get drunk, so Jaehyun had one of his employees drive everyone to Chenle’s penthouse because it’s the closest. You hope the others returned to Jeno’s place safely, too.

You stay still from where you’re lying down, eyes up on the ceiling, wondering what time it is. There was no plan for today aside from wedding rehearsal at six in the evening to make sure everything’s all set for tomorrow, so you reckon you have the entire day to get rid of your hangover.

You roll over to your side, facing the television, and the clock tells you it’s eleven in the morning. Renjun is snoring away from the other couch, and you remember letting Minjeong sleep on your bed for the night. You’re staring at Renjun’s sleeping form when someone on the carpeted floor suddenly rolls over, allowing you to see their face.

Donghyuck’s sleeping on the floor beside the couch, body parallel to yours so you can see his peaceful sleeping face, mouth slightly agape. He’s now sleeping on his back, head supported by one of the cushions, body covered with his jacket from last night. You remember parting ways with him with him last night. He’d taken a taxi with Lia back to her place while the rest of you went home in Jaehyun’s SUV. You don’t remember him coming back here.

You stare at him for as long as you can, because in the last three days in Seoul, you’d never really gotten the chance to get a good look on him. You and him don’t follow each other from any social media, so the last four years had truly been radio silence from both sides. Donghyuck, at 27, doesn’t look like he’s aged that much, albeit his round cheeks being gone, replaced by prominent cheekbones. It looks like he never bothered to get rid of the constellations forming on his face and neck, too, because they’re still here, just like many things that haven’t changed. Donghyuck used to love dyeing his hair crazy colors, now his hair is just colored naturally. His lips, wonder if they still taste the same.

“He’s going to melt,” Renjun says suddenly, you plop your head back to the couch, guilty for staring too long. Renjun sits up, stretching and laughing at your misery. “And you’re going to have a heart attack if you keep sneaking glances and getting caught. How many times has Jisung caught you in the last 72 hours?”

“Shut up,” you mumble, getting up and stretching as well. “What do you want to eat for breakfast?”

You carefully get off from the couch, making sure you don’t topple on Donghyuck’s sleeping body, draping the blanket over his body, walking towards Chenle’s fancy kitchen. Renjun helps you, rummaging through the fridge, and comes up with a breakfast menu with whatever you had in the kitchen.

Donghyuck wakes up before you and Renjun could finish cooking everything. He’s quiet when he approaches you in the kitchen, softly asking if you could make coffee for him. You don’t say no, of course.

“This is the most disgusting cup of coffee, I’ve had my entire life,” Donghyuck complains, leaning over the counter where you’re working on the opposite side of. “Stop jeopardizing the café’s reputation. You’re not some scientist so stop mixing concoctions from hell just to brag that you’re a part-time barista and a full-time college student. You make me sick. Literally.”

You ignore all of it, of course, eyebrows furrowed as you take another sip of the quote and quote disgusting coffee, trying to figure out what went wrong this time.

“I think it needs a bit more vanilla,” you think out loud.

“I will not join you in this stupid crusade of making your own “Barista’s Special” recipe,” he continues. “And I will tell your manager you’re wasting coffee!”

“Aha!” you exclaim when you think you got it right. “Maybe I need to level the grounds better and add another pump of vanilla. Let me try that. It should taste better.”

Donghyuck chuckles as you move around and attempt to make another cup. “You’ve been saying it should taste better since last week.”

He keeps complaining, but takes the new cup of coffee as soon as you’re done.

Donghyuck drinks.

You wait.

It still tastes disgusting.

“It’s sweet,” Donghyuck comments when he drinks it. You tilt your head. Renjun is finishing up on the scrambled eggs. You hear Minjeong come out of your room.

“Is that a bad thing?” you ask, hopeful.

Donghyuck shakes his head, chuckling. “Better than the ones you made when we were in university.”

“Hey!” you laugh. “I was awarded employee of the month once!”

“That doesn’t erase the fact that you forced me to drink your disgusting concoctions for three weeks straight,” he states, making you laugh even more. “I guess, all these years you’d learned what you were missing.”

“I’ll miss you,” you mumble against Donghyuck’s chest. “The internship will just be for a few months. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Donghyuck kisses the top of your head. “When you come back,” he mutters. “When you come back, I’ll ask you to be my girlfriend.”

You freeze.

“And you’ll say yes. And we’ll graduate together and make a life for both of us.”

You pull away a little so that you’re looking at him face to face. Donghyuck has tears threatening to fall from his eyes. You wipe it off with the sleeves of his jacket you’re wearing.

“I’ll say yes,” you promise. “And we’ll graduate together and make a life for both of us.”

A woman’s voice announces your flight number once again and says the gates are closing in five minutes. Donghyuck kisses you in the mouth—a promise—and tells you he loves you.

“Oh, Donghyuck,” you say. “I love you, too.”

“Come back home to me, yeah?”

“I will.”

Yours and Donghyuck’s favorite restaurant was located two blocks away from his parents’ home. It closed a few years ago when its owner passed away and his children were too heartbroken to keep the business running. It was a staple from your entire high school life, and if you could say it, it defined your standards when it comes to food.

You’d just gotten a call from home that your childhood pet had to be put down because of old age and many diseases, and you called in sick for work—thank God, Johnny was willing to cover for you otherwise the manager would’ve rejected your request to stay at home for the day—and you’re truly not in the mood for anything at all.

You haven’t been home for quite sometime now, the last time being the holidays and you normally just spend a couple of days before heading back to the campus, so everything really sucks. You didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye.

Donghyuck hears this from Jimin, of course, because your roommate called him as soon as she heard you crying from your room. He literally carries you out of your room, says grieving is better when there’s food.

As soon as you see the person standing behind the counter, you recognize the place right away. Although located in a different street now, nearby where you are, the place looks exactly the same from when it did years ago.

“Y/N! Donghyuckie!” the lady behind the counter greets.

“Oh my,” you squeal. “Auntie, I didn’t know you’re back in business! How long has it been?”

The new owner, the late owner’s eldest daughter, smiles at you and tells you they re-opened sometime this year. She tells you to find a seat and confirms she knew your order by heart.

Donghyuck sits across you. “You like it?”

“Why did you not take me here sooner?”

He smiles. “Supposedly on your birthday a couple of weeks from now. But with what happened today, I guess this is the best time.”

“You’re the best.”

It’s Jisung and Chenle who find you and Donghyuck by the pool area hours later. Donghyuck had completely fallen asleep on your shoulder. The younger ones help you and practically carry Donghyuck towards the car.

Jaemin and Jeno have left the venue so they could prepare for their flight the next day. You hadn’t paid much attention to the time when Donghyuck drunkenly approached you. Jisung tells you it’s already two in the morning.

Chenle tells you Donghyuck had broken up with Lia—the reason, he’s uncertain—which is why she stormed off from the reception and Donghyuck decided to drink his ass off while you were wandering around the place. You shrug, acknowledging the news like it doesn’t make your heart race, like it doesn’t give you some sort of hope you didn’t know you had stored, and tell them they should take him home.

Jisung says Donghyuck lives on the other side of the city, so it’s best you all head back to Chenle’s.

Jisung and Chenle share the latter’s bed, and you’re not going to let Donghyuck sleep on the couch after he had complained about his back hurting when he’d fallen asleep on the floor the other day, so it’s only right that you let Jisung and Chenle carry him to your bed.

When you wake up on the couch the next day, Donghyuck’s shoes are no longer by the doorsteps.

His footsteps are loud.

“Donghyuck, this isn’t going to work if you don’t fucking give me a chance to explain!” You scream a few feet behind Donghyuck.

Donghyuck is running away, and you’re beginning to think that convincing him to go to the gym might not have been the greatest decision because Donghyuck is literally sprinting, like he’s being chased by something so terrifying.

You almost stop. Donghyuck, who always called him home, never ran away from you all these years. Not, it looks like he’d rather be anywhere but where you. Nothing feels worse than that.

You’d just gotten back from your internship in the US, one more term and you’re graduating. The internship was easily the best thing that’s happened to you this year. They were already thinking of offering you a contract as soon as you graduate. They let you go back home, of course, to complete your degree, and said they’d be willing to keep training you in the states and have you relocate to Europe once you graduate because they’ll be expanding their business out there.

It's also the night of Donghyuck's first showcase, the first show he's headlining along with musicians and artists from different universities. You had promised Donghyuck you’d watch and support him, but things doesn't always go on your favor, because as soon as you’d landed, you were needed back to the campus for an interview for the university’s publishing team because they wanted you to talk about your experience alongside the others who went to the states to complete their internship. It was supposed to be an hour session, but you and everyone in the panel liked the questions they were asking, and somehow you felt like this was a sign that the company in the US could lead to better, brighter things for you.

Hence, you were late. Halfway through the show. Donghyuck got mad, but promised he understood. He asked for some space, at least for the rest of the night. But you wanted to apologize properly, to take him out for dinner even if it's already past midnight, and insisted that you should talk about it. Donghyuck refused, you kept insisting, until the former said something about you being a shitty girlfriend.

It’s a shitty excuse, but you were absolutely fucking tired. You’re still jetlagged from the 16-hour difference, and the entire session with your fellow interns took two hours of your day.

What you had left for the day was so little, and you chose to spend it with Donghyuck, but he decided to be an ass about it.

"I never said anything about being your girlfriend," was your dumb reply, which is why you’re now running after him from the building of Chenle’s condominium.

You pull Donghyuck with force as soon as you catch up with him, and you’re faced with your worst fear.

Donghyuck is crying. He’s never cried before, not because of you. A deep painful breath comes out of your mouth, and it hurts when you breathe, like inhaling a cloud of smoke or being hit by a ball in the back. Donghyuck keeps crying, doesn’t even hide it. He sobs and heaves and he doesn’t wipe his tears.

"Donghyuck, can you just—”

“I’m tired,” Donghyuck sobs. “Y/N, I’m so tired. I sound pathetic and I’m not sure if I’m exhausted from the performance or I’m just done with you.”

“I’m sorry,” is all what you could come up with.

“This,” Donghyuck says, gesturing the small space between you. “I don’t think it’s worth all of the pain I am feeling right now, Y/N. You’re my best friend. I—I, fuck, I used to think that maybe someday this will all be worth it, but I am tired of waiting for that day. I am drained and you have consumed all of me. I waited for you, and I keep waiting until you finally just—let go and decide you want to be with me and stop playing this never-ending game of friends with benefits bullshit we started. I’m done. What else do you want from me?”

“I—I… Donghyuck,” you stutter. I want you to give me a chance. I want you to give me more time to figure some things out myself. I want you to wait a little longer.

"I rejected Ryujin a week before you came home,” Donghyuck confesses. "When you were in the states, and you suddenly changed your mind about being my girlfriend and told me I should go out and date other people and that I shouldn’t hold myself back, I was angry. I didn’t understand why you were pushing me away so much when I’m here!”

You stay still, crying.

“I’m here,” he repeats. “I’m here and I love you, and I’ve never asked anything in return. And you tell me you love me, but you do things that—that hurt me. Every time I think we’re finally going somewhere, you—you push back and I’m just—I’m sick of it. And Jaemin said I should just move on if you can’t make up your mind because I don’t know if you haven’t realized it but Y/N, we’ve been at it for years.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Jeno and Jaemin set me up with Ryujin,” he continues. “We went to a couple of dates. And then you called me saying you’re coming back home. So, I broke it off before we even got started. I told her it would be unfair if I kept leading her on when I know that I am still ridiculously in love with you. She said it would be alright and that she's giving me all the time and space I need to think about things."

Donghyuck curses and continues, "But I didn't need time and space, Y/N. Because I already knew that all I've ever wanted was you. I didn't need to think. I only needed you."

You don’t know what to say. You’re still holding him by his arm.

“If you're not going to say anything, let me go,” Donghyuck sternly says. You have a feeling it’s not the grip on his arm that Donghyuck is talking about. “Please.”

The single biggest mistake of your life happened on the third street from Chenle’s place, under the broken streetlight, across the ice cream parlor Donghyuck used to work at when he was seventeen.

You let him go. Donghyuck stops waiting.

The wait from the audience was long enough.

They say your graduation day is going to be one of the happiest moments in your life. It’s not. Not at all.

Not when you’d gotten your diploma on stage and Donghyuck shows you he doesn’t give a fuck by looking everywhere else. Not when it’s picture taking time with your friends and families and he decides to stand on the other side, far, far away from you. Not when his parents ask him to take a picture with you and he shrugs it off and says he’s hungry and that he’s meeting everyone at the restaurant, leaving with his entire family.

Renjun whispers, “Does he even know you’re leaving first thing in the morning?”

You shrug it off, too. “Looks like he has other things to care about.”

Jaemin sighs. “You’re not serious about this, are you? You and Donghyuck better pull your shit together. Both of you already ruined the moment for everyone.”

Renjun eyes him. “It’s not your fault, Y/N. If Donghyuck doesn’t want to listen, then so be it.”

“It’s not Donghyuck’s fault either,” Jaemin defends. “Because he’s been trying to get answers and you wouldn’t give it to him. So, I don’t think it’s his fault that he’s done.”

“We’re not picking sides here, Jaemin,” Jeno says. “Let’s go.”

Jeno and Jaemin sandwiches you in a tight hug.

The next day after the wedding, in the afternoon, the newlyweds are bound to France for their honeymoon. They’re traveling the continent for two weeks (unfortunately, London excluded from their itinerary), and all of you decided to drop them off as if they’re leaving for years. In your case, this may be the last time you’re seeing them for a long time.

“I love you,” Jaemin says as the two very strong and buff men hug you. “I know things have been tough and coming back here took a lot from you, but thank you for making sure you were present during the wedding.”

“I hope this isn’t the last time in another four years that we’d see you in person,” Jeno adds. “We miss you, you know? Please come visit us when you have time.”

“I love you two so much,” you cry, emotional with the way they’re holding you. “Go have fun.”

They bid their goodbyes to everyone else and enter the airport.

“If I don’t get the same treatment when I leave, I’m ghosting everyone,” Mark announces. Jisung laughs. “What? You all acted like they’re going away for two years. They’re coming back in literally and exactly two weeks!”

“Go be unhappy somewhere, hyung,” Donghyuck teases, making everyone laugh as you all walk back to where their cars are parked.

Chenle needs to go back to work, so did Jimin and Jisung, hence they ride all together. Minjeong’s visiting a friend, so she’s riding with Mark and Renjun because they’re all going to the same side of the city. Which means, Donghyuck is driving you back to Chenle’s place.

“Your flight is tomorrow, too, right?” Mark asks. You hum, nodding. “Come visit me in Vancouver sometime soon, too. Or I’ll fly to London.”

“Wow, you have a lot of money to spend on flying around the world multiple times, huh?” you tease.

“Hey, you’re the frequent flyer here,” he comments. “Wonder how many miles you’ve earned and redeemed from all this flying you’ve done in this lifetime.”

You laugh. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mark.”

Renjun and the others bid you goodbye. You’re not really certain why you and Donghyuck silently agreed to watch your friends leave, you and him standing a foot away from each other as they all drive away. For some reason, it feels like the last time.

The first time it happened, you and Donghyuck decide it’s an accident.

You were drunk, and it had been a while for the two of you considering how busy you both have been because of finals coming up. It was convenient, if you say so yourself, to have your best friend right beside you when you were feeling hot and horny. The morning after was settled with a kiss on your forehead—no apologies as discussed, because neither you nor him regretted it anyway, but there’s a promise that nothing changes.

The second time it happened, you and Donghyuck decide it’s not going to be a one-time thing.

“So, to make it clear,” you huff as you quickly get rid of your pants while Donghyuck pulls his shirt off. “This isn’t a one-time thing.”

“I don’t see an issue if it’s not,” he replies, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down, pushing you against the wall and kissing you down your neck. “Besides, we’re best friends.”

You lean your head against the wall, thinking if it’s too late to back out, but Donghyuck’s already has his hands all over you—one on your breast and the other on your waist. It’s not really that bad of an idea. Donghyuck is your best friend, and your friendship has withstood time, distance, growing pains, and mostly everything. And perhaps it’s the way you haven’t stopped thinking about your first time together that’s making you feel so, so vulnerable under his touch, but it’s not like anything’s changed since that night. In fact, if you’re being completely honest, it made you feel like you and Donghyuck know each other better now—in ways that other pairs like you don’t.

Hence, whatever thought you had a minute ago, you throw it down the drain and you let Donghyuck (messily, heartedly giggling) carry you by hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist and bring you back to his unmade bed.

Donghyuck knows how to use his tongue, and you’ve kind of always known because all the girls he’s ever slept with talk about him like he’s a god of tongue or something. Donghyuck licks your lips before diving in, as if he’s giving you a taste of what you’re about to have, and he pushes his tongue in, massaging it with yours, and it almost feels like he’s teaching you how to use the muscle in your mouth. You realize how much he likes kissing, because he kisses more than he touches. He kisses you for what felt like hours, and you’re not about to complain about it.

You let him gently drop you on his bed. His warm palms caressing its way from your waist down to the side of your thighs where he knows you like being touched the most (and you’re not certain whether he’d learned this from stories or from the time you and him had sex); Donghyuck keeps his mouth on you as he rubs circles against your hot skin.

The finger he slips between your underwear and right above your clit sends you shivers down your spine. He allows you to catch your breath for a second, moving his mouth from your lips down to your neck, but doesn’t give you enough time to recover because he rubs your clit oh, so gently.

“We’re best friends,” he repeats, murmuring the words against the skin on your neck. “Nothing changes, except now I know where to touch you.”

He does. He touches you everywhere and slips his middle finger in your hole, sighing against your skin when he feels how wet you’ve gotten simply from kissing.

“You’ve always been such a good girl for me,” he whispers, keeping his finger inside, his palm pressed against your clit. “Such a good girl. Wet and ready for me. You really are my best friend.”

“Donghyuck,” you whine. He starts rubbing from inside, moving a single finger in an upward motion, eliciting a moan from you.

“What?” he asks innocently. “You are. You are my best friend. I don’t think everyone can say they let their best friends fuck them when they’re horny. Which makes me the best best friend, too. Because I fuck the brains out of you when you’re horny. Aren’t we the best team the world has ever seen?”

Donghyuck slips another finger in—easily, because nothing can describe how we you are now. He tongues the skin on your collarbone, licking and tasting and smirking all throughout, then he fingers you properly. At this point, your underwear’s stretched from one thigh to the other.

Donghyuck likes to tease you, and you know this because he massages the inside of your hole in a swift upward motion before pulling his fingers out and slowly filling you again. He does this slowly, then fast, then slowly once again. The explicit sound of your wetness makes him chuckle, leaving your collarbones and using his other hand to pull the left cup of your bra down and goes in. He bites and nips and licks and sucks your breast while he fingers you stupid—legs apart, shamelessly wet and fucking ready for him—and you take everything he gives you.

He doesn’t make you cum though, because Donghyuck is Donghyuck. Nobody is more cunning than him.

But he doesn’t make you wait. As soon as he feels you’re about to cum, he slips his fingers out and rids himself off his own underwear, then slipping the last two pieces barely hanging on your body.

He fucks you dumb. Raw. All his glory and skin. You have no other words aside from that.

He doesn’t wait because there’s truly no need to adjust with how wet and ready you fucking are. He’s big, but Donghyuck knows how to fuck well. He knows how to prevent discomfort and he’s done a very good job at proving that to you.

He fucks you missionary, and usually, this isn’t something you’d opt for. You like being fucked hard with no sense of affection and all that bullshit when you’re stressed and in need of some kind of relief. But with Donghyuck, it’s heavenly despite how sinful his hips snap.

He fucks you. Again and again. He makes you cum twice before he pulls out and spills himself on your stomach.

He kisses you, giggles at the way you’re dumbfounded, cleans you up, and lets you sleep on his bed as though nothing has changed.

Because nothing did. Nothing ever will.

“Funny how things have changed so much in the last four years, huh?” Donghyuck asks, eyes on the road.

Donghyuck’s said he’s driving you home. You haven’t been in Seoul in four years, but the route he’s taking is definitely not the way to Chenle’s.

“We’re taking the long way home,” he interjects when he realizes you’re looking at the GPS on his car’s tablet. “There’s, uh, heavy traffic on the usual way because of some road construction. And you’re going back tomorrow. You haven’t really gone around the city, so I figured it’d be a good time.”

You hum, looking at him with a small smile.

“Sure,” you buy. “It feels like only yesterday you were driving a beat-up Hyundai. Now, you’re all fancy.”

He chuckles, turning as his car speeds through the bridge. “Well, many things have changed since you left.”

Donghyuck looks beautiful like this: Seoul’s horizon running like a movie as he drives, smile soft, eyes bright.

“I’m sorry,” you brave up.

It takes you great courage to say it out loud. As best friends, you and Donghyuck had always said “thank you,” and “I love you” openly, and in countless of occasions, these words have healed scratches made around your friendship. Rarely you and him would ever say you’re sorry. The only time you can remember apologizing to him was the night, a few weeks before graduation when you’d just returned from the States after your internship. That sorry barely made up the wounds you’d caused.

At this age, you understand why saying sorry wasn’t normal for you and Donghyuck. You and him were inseparable. You were soulmates—are if you can bravely say it out loud. Your bond is stronger with him than anyone else, and you’d always believed that nothing could ever come between you and him. Like the decisions you’d made, nothing changed until something did. And when things changed, you and him had no idea what to do. Because as far as you can remember, you and Donghyuck remained constant, like a routine, a bible with a comprehensive and cohesive series of stories that’s never changed. So, when feelings got in between—denial and pining and confusion—neither of you had any idea how to handle it.

Donghyuck was bold and brave. You, on the other hand, had no ounce of courage to give it a try.

He only smiles. “A few years too late, don’t you think?”

You nod. “I know. Do you accept my apology?”

“If you buy me ice cream,” he answers.

“Done,” you say, smiling back at him. “I was scared.”

Donghyuck keeps his eyes on the road. “Of?”

“That I’d come back to Seoul and see you married with kids and all.”

“And what’s so scary about that?”

“Because it would mean I’d thrown away all the chances the universe has given me.”

Donghyuck looks ethereal like this: in a suit, smiling as he watches his bride walk down the aisle.

“Take care, yeah?” Renjun whispers as he hugs you.

Mark’s Dad and Mark himself are waiting for you outside. As most of your friends have gone home to their families after graduation, with the exception of Renjun and Jisung who spared some time today just to see you off, Mark volunteered (his dad) to drop you off the airport.

“I will,” you say, burying your face into his chest. “Any word from Donghyuck?”

Renjun pulls away and looks down. You know the answer.

“It’s okay,” you answer, mostly to yourself. “He’ll call me back soon. I’m sure.”

“I hope so,” Renjun mumbles.

The only call you get before you enter the gates is a drunken one. It’s Donghyuck.

“I hate you,” he grits through the device. “And I never want to see you again.”

“I didn’t want to come back,” you confess. Donghyuck keeps his hands on the steering wheel. “Because you’d said you never wanted to see me again.”

“And I sent you messages you never received,” Donghyuck says. It surprises you. “Because your Korean number was no longer active and you’d blocked me from everything at that time.”

You smile, wondering if you had a little bit more understanding—if you had waited a little before deactivating your old number, if you had given it some time—would you and Donghyuck end up together in the end? If Donghyuck hadn’t been drunk the night you left Seoul—if he’d taken a taxi before you boarded the plane, if he’d just said sorry back—would you and him have gotten into a relationship right away?

Regret, just like grief, makes you feel things like this. They make you wonder what could have happened, if it would’ve given you the same, awful outcome, or if it would take you to the happy ending you keep dreaming about.

“Funny how we had many things we couldn’t say despite us being best friends,” he comments. “And you agree that many things have changed in the last four years, right?”

You hum, looking out your window, watching the horizon blur in motion.

“Donghyuck-ah,” you whisper, eyes still on the moving horizon. “The only thing that hasn’t changed for me.”

“What?” he asks.

“You,” you say. “You’re the only one that hasn’t changed for me. You’re still sharp when you need to be, but gentle where people you love need you to be. You’re still beautiful like the day I had realized I loved you. It wasn’t shocking, though. That day. I wasn’t all too shocked that your newly-dyed pink hair was the eureka moment for me. Because I knew all along. It was more like a flick on the wrist rather than a surprise. Like it’s always been there. The pink hair was just a reminder.”

Donghyuck stays quiet.

“And I say this like I’m hoping I could go back to four years ago and try harder to apologize,” you continue, tears already brimming your eyes. “But I guess we needed this, Donghyuck. We needed to grow—sadly—apart. And I feel like, no, I know that I wouldn’t have gotten to know myself better if we didn’t grow apart.”

“Yeah,” he speaks for what seems like a long time. “We were—you were right all along. We couldn’t just risk it all for a relationship. I had offers left and right even before we’d graduated, and you.”

You look at him. Donghyuck’s eyes are carefully still on the road, but his gaze is soft, eyes shining from the tears welling up.

“You were made to see the world,” he says, and it breaks you like glass. “I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I were the reason why you don’t have the life you have now. Because it wouldn’t have worked. I love you, and I just know that at that time, when we were young and all, I wouldn’t have let you go work abroad. The few months you spent in the state for a mere internship already shook our friendship in ways we didn’t expect. What more if we had been in a relationship?”

“Donghyuck,” you sniffle. “I love you. And it hurt. And I’m sorry it us this long. I’m sorry it took me this long.”

“Stop apologizing. Y/N, I would’ve let you go eventually,” he confesses. “Because I love you so much that I’d be willing to let you go if it meant you could soar.”

The sun sets in the horizon the next time you look out your window.

Donghyuck keeps one hand on the wheel and shows you the other, palm up.

You take it with courage.

And you. You look beautiful like this: dressed in white, smiling as you walk towards your groom. You best friend. Donghyuck.

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ciaonicole85 · 5 days

Text

Part 1: What then?

Some seemingly innocent, but truly mind-altering information is shared in a staff meeting.

Short fan fic. Low-key Sydcarmy/The Bear fluff. Post-season 2. Canon-compliant.

Location: The Bear

Time: 10:05 a.m.

The restaurant had closed lunch service on a Tuesday for a "Development Day". The Bear had been open for 5 months and had a 2 month wait list! After Family and Friends when they had all banded together the Bear crew had gotten tighter than ever. Carmen had been a outsider in his own restaurant for a couple weeks, but soon the dust settled. Even Sydney came around after 3 weeks of his patient groveling. The duo was good and soon The Bear had become one of Chicago Tribune's "Best New Restaurants." However, with success The Bear was changing fast. They had hired more full-time front and kitchen staff, which was great. The downside was that "respectful communication" and "customer complaint management" was waning a little. Things were not terrible, but Richie for whom Ever set the bar in hospitality, The Bear should always be improving, not sliding backwards. Natalie, Carmen and Sydney agreed. They also wanted to discuss new menu changes and a to-go system they would be testing soon.

"Okay, people! Let's get started" Natalie said beckoning everyone to take a seat at the front of house.

Richie stood next her "casually dressed" in a button down blue dress shirt and dark grey slacks.

He began, "As you know The Bear is on track to paying off the loan and we're the freakin' toast of the town right now, but this is not the time to take a nap. We gotta keep our eyes on the prize. So first, up facial regulation as known as RBF awareness."

Natalie tapped his shoulder and whispered, "Richie, I love your enthusiasm, but I thought we might start with an ice breaker?"

He shrugged and continued, "But Nat, has a ice breaker. Take it away".

Natalie resumed.

"So, first we want to thank each of you for being part of this dream and making it fun, rewarding, and successful. As you know The Bear is a family business and since there's new faces here we'd like to get to know you better and vice versa. We'll start with a quick round of "Best and Worst". Just pick a question out of the cup and answer it. Please keep your answers to 2 minutes."

The first question went to Randall, a young man in his early 20's with dark curly hair and thick glasses that frequently fogged in the humid kitchen. He was the new assistant pastry chef.

"What was the best place I ever lived? Hm…Guam. My dad, Army, was stationed on the base and I lived there from age 9-11. I had like 12 friends just on my block and we were always playing soccer, swimming, or riding our bikes. It was awesome."

"Thanks Randall!" Natalie chirped.

The next went to Tina.

"Ok…what is worst advice I've ever been given? Keep your head down and do what you know. That's the advice I used to give myself. Thankfully I didn't listen because now I'm a sous chef!"

Sydney who was sitting near the front between Gary and Carmy, beamed at Tina who returned the smile with a little moisture in her eyes.

The next question went to Marcus.

"Best moment in the last year? It was training at Noma, in Copenhagen. It was my first international trip. I got to stay in a houseboat, explore the city, meet cool people, and figure out that I wanted to do this maybe forever."

The last several months had been really hard due to Marcus's mom's passing. He had returned to work after a week of mourning citing that he knew she wouldn't want him to sit at home now that she was no longer sick. Despite that he was getting better every day and had come up with several new popular dessert specials. Tina was seated next to him and patted his arm.

The next few questions went to new dishwasher, Chris, Fak, and then Gary.

Sydney drew the next question and winced upon reading it. It wouldn't be possible to lie because Marcus already knew the truth.

"What was my best meal ever? Well…it was this pork confit with onions and rhubarb. Then after I had this dish called Milk and Honey."

She kept her eyes plastered on the tiny strip of paper while she spoke. In her peripheral field she could see Carm turning slightly towards her, his cornflower blue eyes boring two holes into the side of her head.

"Sounds grand. Ok, Carmy pick a question" Richie ordered wanting to get down to business by 10:30am.

Carmy didn't seem to hear him. He was on another planet.

"Yo cuz, pick a question!"

He startled and drew a question.

"Uh ok. Best part of my day? Hmmm. Closing up."

It was now Sydney's soul's turn to exit her body. Every night, with few exceptions, she and Carmy ended the night in his office to debrief on the day, perform last checks, and close together.

After a moment she felt his eyes still glancing at her. Without turning she whispered, "Later." The last thing she needed was to look at him, and forget how much time was passing, giving Richie yet another reason to tease them. Not long ago he gave them matching copies of a workplace relationship etiquette tip sheet stapled to an OSHA industrial hygiene handout before leaving them to close.

She sighed, trying to compose herself. It was no big deal. So what that Carm knew he was responsible for the best thing she ever ate? Also, they're partner-friends so it's totally normal that his favorite time of day when is they are together…alone. Right?

UH OH.

#the bear #sydcarmy #sydney x carmy #carmy the bear #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #carmy x sydney #carmy berzatto #syd adamu #fan fiction #it's a love story #brain rot #they are so cute #if they can just stare some more in season 3

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daisynik7 · 7 months

Note

Can I request All for you by Janet Jackson for Aki Hayakawa - fluff

All For You

Tell me I’m the only one. Soon we’ll be having fun.

Pairing: Aki Hayakawa x f!reader

Word Count: ~1.3k

cw: fluff, grumpy/sunshine trope, alcohol consumption (everyone is of age)

Summary: Aki Hayakawa has been training you for the past two months, helping you acclimate into your new role as a Public Safety Devil Hunter. From the start, you were smitten, unable to contain your cheery attitude whenever you’re with him. He’s closed off, strictly business, and never cracks a smile, but in his own subtle ways, he shows you that he cares. One day, after a successful mission, you test your luck to see if your love is truly unrequited, or if Aki just needs that extra push to admit his true feelings for you. A little bit of liquid courage might also come in handy.

Author’s Notes: Ahhh, my first Aki fic! Thanks for the request anon, I LOVE Janet Jackson, and this is the perfect song for the y2k karaoke party! I hope you like this! It’s short, sweet, and very fluffy, so it’s been a nice break from the shameless smut I’ve been writing LOL. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated! Thank you for reading! Banner created by @/saradika.

It’s been two months since you started working for Public Safety. Two months of grueling training, both physical and mental, and two months of being stuck with the notoriously grumpy Aki Hayakawa. But you’re not complaining, considering how absolutely head over heels you are for him.

In this case, it’s true what they say: opposites attract. While you’re the type of person to always have a happy expression on your face, Aki is the opposite. You have yet to see him crack a smile, even the tiniest hint of one. No matter how hard you try to bombard him with your joyous affections and shameless flirting, he remains unfazed by it. Though, you’re certain he doesn’t hate it. If he did, you would have already been chucked off to someone else to have to deal with you. That’s why you continue your efforts; because deep down, you know he likes it. Likes you.

He doesn’t say it in words, but he doesn’t have to. His actions display them perfectly. Subtle glances during moments he thinks you’re not looking, though you always are. Small gestures to show he cares about your safety and well-being, like always switching spots with you when you’re walking on a sidewalk, making sure he’s on the side of the street. Putting out his cigarette whenever you arrive because he knows you don’t like the smell. Holding the door open for you, sharing his umbrella on rainy days, always volunteering to be your partner during group missions because he doesn’t trust anyone else to be with you. Sure, maybe he’s just that nice of a guy, a true gentleman, a man who proves chivalry is not dead. Or, maybe he really likes you as much as you do him. Is it wishful thinking? Probably. You’re growing impatient waiting for validation, so tonight, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

The Public Safety Department is out to celebrate a successful mission. It’s the first time you’ve all been together in a while, so many of you are ready to let loose. Your team sits together in one corner of the restaurant, a round of beers already being passed down as soon as you take your seat by the wall, directly across from Aki. Kishibe, the most senior Devil Hunter, takes a spot next to you, while Kobeni, your dear friend and main confidant on the team, sits by Aki. As usual, he’s quiet, sipping on his drink without so much as a peep. His eyes flit towards you as you grab the handle and take several heavy gulps of beer. You’re going to need some liquid courage in you for what you’re about to do.

Kishibe doesn’t say much either, downing his liquor silently, leaving you and Kobeni to fill the void with random small talk until appetizers are served, and she stuffs her mouth with gyozas and chicken yakitori. When you’re almost done with your beer, Aki’s shoves the plate of dumplings to you. “You should eat,” he mutters, staring at your empty glass.

You grin at him. “I will, if you feed me.” You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out playfully.

He rolls his eyes at you, a small blush surrounding his cheeks. “Stop acting like a child.”

Feeling particularly wicked, you turn to face your neighbor. “Kishibe, can you feed me?”

The older man chuckles, already finished with three pints. “Alright.” He pinches a gyoza between his fingers, dips it in the sauce, and guides into your mouth whole. From your peripheral, you notice Aki scowl, grabbing at the pitcher at the center of the table to refill his cup to the brim.

You giggle, chewing it into smaller pieces to swallow, batting your eyelashes with your hand covering your mouth. “Thank you, Master.”

Kishibe laughs again, clearly amused by this, glancing at Aki across the table. “Is this what you have to deal with?”

“You have no idea,” Aki grunts, chugging his beer halfway.

For the next hour, you continue to focus all your attention on Kishibe, and none on Aki, who sits still with his shoulders tense and a permanent frown on his face. It helps that your senior is playing into it, not questioning your brazen behavior, fully aware of your crush on Aki because you have admitted it to him plenty of times before. Aki’s had several pints now, a red glow surrounding his cheeks, sweat beading on his forehead. He hasn’t said a word as you blatantly flirt with Kishibe in front of him. You’re feeling a buzz now, more reckless with your emotions. Suddenly, you’re annoyed with yourself and with him; you stand up, wobbling slightly, murmuring something about going outside for some air.

You’re slumped on the steps in front of the restaurant, breathing in the fresh night air, cool against your hot skin, feeling defeated. Your dumb plan to make him jealous backfired, leaving you just as confused as before. Maybe it’s time to throw in the towel and just accept that Aki will never reciprocate your feelings.

You’re alone for a few minutes until the door swings open and you see Aki walking towards you. a glass of water in one hand, the other tucked in his pocket. He passes it to you, saying, “Drink this.”

Pouting, you take it, sipping it slowly. “Thanks, I guess.” You add the last part spitefully.

He sits next to you, sighing. “Why are you doing this?” His voice isn’t his typical monotone; there’s actual concern behind it now.

“Doing what?” You set the water beside you, crossing your arms.

“You know what.”

You shrug, leaning back on your hands, staring up at the sky, blinking at the moon. “I don’t know what you’re talking about it.”

He turns to face you, swallowing loudly. “Why are you being like this? Are you in love with him?”

This catches you off guard. “Huh?”

“Kishibe. Are you in love with Kishibe?” His brows are tight, eyes imploring you for the truth. And it’s in this moment that you realize your plan actually worked. And now you feel guilty.

Before this gets out of hand, you decide to stop the games and be honest with him. “No Aki. It’s you. It’s always been you. You’re the only one.” You look at your shoes, avoiding his gaze, embarrassed by your confession, nervous for his reaction.

“Then why were you – ”

“I was trying to make you jealous,” you interrupt him, explaining yourself. “I’m sorry. It was childish and immature and just plain dumb and I’m sorry. I understand if you’re upset. You can hand me off to someone else if you want. You don’t have to deal with me anymore.”

He copies your posture, leaning on his wrists, hands so close to touching yours. He doesn’t say anything for a minute, choosing his words carefully. “I’m not upset,” he says softly.

You look at him, surprised at his response. “You’re not?”

And finally, after two months of yearning for it, he smiles at you. “Not at all.”

You can’t help perking up at this, scooting even closer to him. “Does that mean…?”

“Yeah. It does.” He places his hand on top of yours, squeezing it gently.

“You have to say it,” you demand, flipping your palm over to interlock your fingers with his.

“Do I have to?” he groans, still grinning.

Your heart pounds in your chest, belly fluttering, grin wide and eyes bright. “Use your words, Aki. Or else I’ll get confused again.”

He shifts forward, nuzzling his nose to yours. “I like you. Happy now?”

You close the gap, kissing him on the lips, smiling. “Very happy.”

#aki hayakawa #aki chainsaw man #aki x reader #aki x you #aki x y/n #aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa x you #aki hayakawa chainsaw man #aki hayakawa fluff #aki fluff #chainsaw man fluff #y2k karaoke party #milestone event

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watchmegetobsessed · 1 year

Text

❄️DEAR HARRY❄️

A/N: how crazy that we are on week 3 already?? i hope you guys are seriously getting into the holiday spirit!!

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

SUMMARY: You become penpals with a cute boy in middle school. You fall for him while he becomes an international rockstar, but will you ever actually meet him?

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

This fic is part of ❄️ FANFICmas 2022 ❄️ Read more about fanficmas here!

“Y/N! You got a letter!”

You have never sped down faster than at that moment. You’ve been anticipating that letter more than anything and quite frankly, you never thought receiving a letter would ever feel this exciting.

But it does. And it’s all because of a boy you have never even met.

“Gimme!” you exclaim as you run up to your mother, grabbing the letter from her before she could even hold it out for you and you are already on your way back to your room to read it and probably memorize every word of it.

Throwing yourself onto the bed you take a look at the handwriting on the envelope, your smile growing wider before you open it and pull out the paper.

Dear Y/N,

I have news for you! But I will only reveal them to you at the end of the letter. And don’t cheat! Don’t read ahead!

This week has been boring so far, we had a math quiz and I didn’t do too well, but it’s okay. If only you lived here, you could tutor me, but I’m left with my sister who is definitely not fit to be a teacher. She is so impatient and gets angry when I don’t understand something.

How did you do on your science project? I bet yours was the best and I’m convinced you’ll be a scientist one day. A scientist with a coffee shop. That’s an awesome pairing, don’t you think?

It’s been raining a lot here so I haven’t been out that much. Mum said it probably won’t change for a while.

And now the exciting news… Drumroll please! Are you ready?... I’m going to be on the X-Factor! Crazy, right? But I finally applied and I got a date for my first audition. It’s not the one you see on TV just yet, I only get there if I pass this first round, so wish me luck. Don’t worry, I won’t stop sending you letters even when I’m a big star. You’ll always be my favorite penpal!

I can’t wait to read your next letter!

Love, Harry

You read it over and over again until you can recite the whole thing almost word to word. Then you grab a paper and write your letter right away, putting it aside when it’s done so you can neatly fold Harry’s letter into the box that has all his previous ones. Eighty-seven, to be exact.

You’ve been penpals since last year. Your teachers were friends in college and they loved matching up their classes every year, turning them into penpals and making them send a few mails as a task so kids experience what it was like when there was no internet. You didn’t think much of the task and never expected to make a friend out of it.

But then you got paired with a boy named Harry, who lives in Holmes Chapel.

The first few letters were awkward and both of you just wanted the task to be over. But then you started sharing more and more with each other and kept up with the letters even when the task was over and they haven’t stopped, not even over a year later.

You have no idea what he looks or sounds like, you haven’t exchanged phone numbers, you both agreed you wouldn’t do that until your 100th letter, which is now approaching. Still, you feel like he is your best friend, better than the ones you see every day. And maybe it’s starting to feel more than a friendship, but can you fall for someone you have never even met?

You finish the drink in your hand, wait for the girl next to you to get to the end of the story she’s been telling your group. You came down to this little dorm party willing to socialize and make new friends, but you feel like a total outsider and you really don’t want to stay any longer. There are other things you’d rather do right now. Or at least one thing.

Trying your best to stay unnoticed, you slip out of the basement where the party is being held and head up to your room on the third floor. Your college experience hasn’t been like the ones you saw in movies, if you’re being honest, but you’re hoping it will get better in time.

The building feels empty outside of the basement, everyone is down there, having a blast while you can’t wait to return to your room. You’re roommate is either at the party too or maybe she is out with her friends, whichever it is, she’s not there when you get back to your room.

Throwing yourself down to the bed you grab your phone and type out a quick message to the only person you always want to talk to.

Y/N: What time is it where you are? Are you up?

You don’t expect him to answer right away, but his reply comes just moments after your message.

HARRY: Call?

You smile at how he ignored your questions and then start a call. He answers after the first ring.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at a party?” he asks instantly.

“I didn’t like it,” you shrug.

“You said that about the last three parties you went to. You’ll never meet people if you just sit around in your dorm room, Y/N.”

“Didn’t know I called my mother,” you mumble under your breath, which makes him laugh.

“Sorry… I’m just… worried. I want you to have fun.”

“Let’s talk about the fun you’re having. Tell me, where are you today?”

“New York. But I’m leaving tomorrow to LA. And don’t think you successfully changed the subject, we’ll get back to your social distancing.”

“LA, wow!” you pretend to be so into it, even though he’s been there a million times before. “Work stuff?”

“You could say that. There is this thing…”

You listen to him talk, he could be saying anything and you’d have him talk for hours, you wouldn’t get enough of his voice. After all, he’s a singer, it’s no surprise his voice is so soothing, though deep down you know you like it for a different reason.

It’s kind of ridiculous. You’re in love with a guy you’ve known since you were fourteen, but you’ve never met and in the meantime he also turned into an international rockstar, so the whole world knows him. It took the two of you almost two years to have your first phone call instead of sending letters. You still remember the first time you heard his voice over the phone, how he said your name and how you could barely get a word out at first. Now you text and call all the time though you’re still yet to meet.

You like to say it’s just how things turned out so far, that you could just never match a date to meet up, but in reality, you’re too scared to meet him, it would make it all too real and you fear he wouldn’t like you if you stood in front of him. So you remain in this bubble, where he is your friend far away who is also a celebrity. But to you, he’s just Harry, your old penpal.

“Promise me something, Y/N.” His tone turns serious and you bite your bottom lip before answering him.

“Okay.”

“Make at least one friend by the end of the semester.”

“Is that my homework?” you try to joke.

“I’m serious,” he breathes out. “I hate knowing that you’re there all alone.

“I do have friends. You’re my friend.”

“But I’m not there. You need someone to go to the library with, have lunch together and all that stuff. Please, promise me you’ll try, okay? Or I will have to take matters into my own hands.”

“Uh, what’s that supposed to mean?” you frown.

“I will fly over to you, no matter what and show up with you so people will want to get to know you.”

“Oh, so you’ll use your fame to get me friends who are only interested in you?” you laugh.

“Exactly, so you better get a friend yourself!”

“Okay, you got me. I will… try.”

“That’s good enough. I gotta go now. Talk to you later?”

“Sure. Call me whenever your schedule loosens up,” you tease him, hearing his laugh on the other end of the call.

“Will do.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? Because I could come over, make a woodoo doll for Mark and poke the shit out of him.”

You chuckle at Hilde’s suggestion as you sink further into your couch.

“I’m sure. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“Okay, but I’m taking you out for lunch tomorrow. I’m not letting you lock yourself up in your cave just because a dumbass with a receding hairline dumped you.”

“God, Hilde, will you ever run out of the mean comments about him?” you laugh in disbelief. You knew she wasn’t too fond of him, but she’s been extremely, aggressively mean towards him since the two of you broke up two days ago. You can’t believe you thought her to be an angelic, shy girl when you met her in college. It must have been those Scandinavian features, her blonde hair and blue eyes tricked you for sure when you sat next to her at the cafeteria. Hilde is the friend you made because Harry forced you to meet someone and you hate to admit it, but your life wouldn’t be the same without her. She’s the only friend you made in college and luckily, she’s still in your life, three years after graduation.

“I have a whole notebook full of them,” she proudly says. “Alright, I have to go now, but call me if you feel like you want to cry after Mark. He doesn’t deserve your tears, so we have to prevent that.”

“I promise,” you smile softly.

“I’ll be at yours tomorrow at one. Bye!”

The smile fades from your face as soon as the call ends and you settle back into your loneliness. If anyone saw you, they would think it’s because of the breakup, but deep down you know it’s not the reason.

Yes, it’s shitty that you dated someone for almost an entire year and they dumped you over the phone, but that’s not what hurts the most. You’re alone. Well, Hilde is always there for you, but you can’t turn to the person who was your biggest support in the past decade. Your failed relationship is just a reminder that you will never have the same kind of feelings for anything like you had for Harry. No matter what went down with Mark, you always knew he wasn’t the one.

Because he wasn’t Harry.

Unlocking your phone you scroll down in the messages until you find the last one you sent to Harry. It’s been over a year and you still miss him.

There was no fight, no one hurt anyone, you just had a fall-out around the time he started dating some model. The messages came less and less often, he missed your phone calls and took a long time to respond whenever you sent him a picture of something you thought he would appreciate. His actions spoke loud and you didn’t want to be the annoying friend who doesn’t get a hint. He just started his solo career, things were going great for him, he didn’t have time to keep in touch with the penpal he had when he was a teenager.

So you stopped trying and eventually, everything stopped.

And you miss him probably too much, but you can’t help it. You keep catching yourself wondering if he thinks about you too, if he sees something and it reminds him of you, because it happens to you all the time.

You’ve wanted to text him a million times since the radio silence has started, but talked yourself down every time. He is a celebrity, he has way too many things to do than to catch up with you, that’s if he even answered your message. His number might not even be the same.

You regret never meeting him. Now you’ll never know what it feels like to hug him, to see him smile in real life, to smell his scent. He’ll remain just his letters you still have under your bed and the memories you have of your phone calls.

Seeking closure you grab a paper and pen and write one last letter to him.

Dear Harry…

You can’t mask your shock as you stare down at the letter you just took out of your mail box. You recognize the handwriting right away, but you never thought you’d ever see it again, not on an envelope at least.

It takes you several minutes to snap out of your initial shock and rush up to your apartment, holding the letter to your chest as if it was your most precious treasure and in the meanwhile you think back at the date you sent out that last letter to Harry.

It’s been six months.

It took him six months for him to reply to a letter you didn’t even think he would ever read. What happened? Did he only get it now? Or did he hesitate for this long before deciding to reply? You have so many questions and you might get a few answers from the letter.

You drop down to your couch and open the envelope with shaking hands, pulling the neatly folded paper out.

Dear Y/N…

“You look disgustingly happy, have I told you that?” Hilde comments and you roll your eyes at her.

“Yes. Like a million times before.”

“Okay, then I will just keep saying it.”

“I thought you’d be happy to see me like this, you’ve been nagging me about him for years!” you tell her off teasingly.

“I am happy! But I didn’t think you’d radiate like this! Though I should have expected, you are so hopelessly in love with that man,” she sighs. “I can’t believe it took you guys fourteen years to finally arrange a meeting, what the fuck?”

“It’s not that dramatic,” you tell her, finishing up putting the mugs away. It’s the 23rd of December, you’re just an hour away from closing up so it’s just two customers and Hilde left in the café. Soon everyone will be gone and Harry will arrive to meet you for the very first time in real life.

It’s been a long journey up to this point. After your farewell letter you didn’t think you’d ever talk to him, but then six months later you got another letter from him. Since then, you figured out what took so long. You sent the letter to his old address, but his mum has moved away for a while now. Luckily, the new owner was kind enough to track Anne down and give her the letter, but it took some time for that to happen. Then it took about two months for Anne to give it to Harry, she kept forgetting about it until he was finally home and she could just hand it over when she remembered she still had it. Then came some hesitation, but it was just a week before Harry decided to write to you.

And then you started talking again.

He apologized for being so distant, he said his then girlfriend didn’t appreciate the tight friendship he had with you and it didn’t take long to get back to where you were before the fall-out.

Now it’s been a year and the moment has finally come. It’s time to meet in person and you feel better about it than ever. Probably because the two of you have definitely passed being just friends.

The flirty texts started about a month after you reconnected and they’ve been building up ever since. All your doubts that Harry could never see you as more than just a friend has vanished and now you’re just patiently waiting for the big moment to happen.

“We can’t change what happened now,” you shrug.

“Yeah. Now he’ll have a great story to tell at talk shows about how he met his girlfriend!” she snorts out a laugh.

“I’m not his girlfriend!” you protest, but your heart skips a beat at the word.

“But you will be when you leave this place tonight, hopefully with him, heading up to your place to make up for all the sex you missed in the past decade.”

“Hilde!” you chuckle, throwing a rug at her.

Soon the café empties out, Hilde helps you closing and she heads out to give you some peace before Harry is set to arrive. As you’re left alone, you take a look around the place and you can’t help but feel content with your life.

You opened the café last year, an old dream of yours that’s now finally reality. It’s small and took almost all of your savings to start the business, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. It’s decorated with Christmas lights and ornaments, one of your employees, Krissy did it, she’s obsessed with the holidays so you let her go all out. Now it looks like a tiny winter wonderland, setting the perfect mood for your first time meeting Harry.

You can’t help but feel nervous. What will he think of you? Will he think you’re just like on the photos he’s seen of you? Or are you different? Is he nervous too?

You arrange a little setup on one of the tables, some freshly baked cookies and two mugs of hot chocolate. Everything looks perfect and he could be here anytime.

A car pulls up in front of the building and your heart skips a beat when you see him get out of it with a bouquet of roses in his hands. He doesn’t notice you through the windows, so you can have a good look at him before he comes inside.

He seems to take a few moments to himself, checking his hair in the mirror before taking a deep breath and nodding to himself. Seeing him like this, nervous like you makes you smile.

Then he turns to face the café and he spots you through the glass of the door and your eyes meet for the first time. For a few seconds you just stare at each other, bask in the moment before you both break out in smiles and he walks inside, stopping by the door, a few feet away from you.

“Hi,” he breathes out and you swear his voice sounds a million times better than on the phone or any video you’ve seen of him.

“Hi,” you chuckle and your legs start moving before you could even think.

You throw yourself into his arms and he catches you with ease, holding you tight and suddenly, you know this is where you belong.

“God, it’s so good to hold you, Y/N,” he chuckles, burying his face into your neck. You want to say the same, but it’s so overwhelming that you can just laugh and hold him tighter.

You have no idea how long you stay like that, wrapped up in each other, hours could have passed by and you wouldn’t have noticed. All you feel and see is Harry.

“It’s really you,” he chuckles when you pull apart at last and he can take a better look at you.

“I should be saying that, I was the one talking to a celebrity! You could have been a catfish all along!” you laugh as you soak him in, standing in the middle of your tiny café. “Um, come sit. I made cookies and… hot chocolate.”

“And I brought you these,” he holds out the roses for you that you take with a lovesick smile, placing them onto the counter before the two of you settle at the table you set.

You sit and talk and talk for hours, tell each other everything you’ve written about and the things you didn’t. Words and stories flow so easily, it’s like you’ve spent every waking moment by each other this past fourteen years. You cherish how you’re able to touch his arm and hand and he barely looks away from you, as if the sight of you has put a spell on him.

“Oh wow, it’s past midnight,” you snap out of the bubble you’ve been sitting in, realizing just how late it has gotten.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstay my welcome.” His eyes widen, but you just chuckle, shaking your head.

“You didn’t. It’s just that I have to be here by six thirty to open.”

“Oh shit, then… we should get going?” he suggests. “I can drive you home.”

“That would be great, thank you. Let me just bring these back to the kitchen,” you gesture at the empty mugs and plates.

“Let me help,” he offers, but you shake your head no.

“It’s alright, I can do it.”

You stack them all together and then bring them back, just tossing them into the sink. You’ll deal with them in the morning. When you walk out, you find Harry inspecting the place with a tiny smile.

“You really made this happen,” he says. “I remember when you wrote about wanting to start your own business when we were sixteen.”

“Well, it took me over a decade, but yeah,” you chuckle softly.

“I’m proud of you,” he says, his gaze meeting yours as he steps closer to you. “You’ve achieved so much. I just wish I could be next to you on the way.”

You catch a hint of disappointment flashing through his expression, but you don’t want him to blame himself. The fall-out might have been his fault mostly, but before that, it was you who avoided meeting him at any cost. Maybe things would have turned out different if you just met as soon as possible.

You’ll never know. But it’s alright, because you have a second chance now.

“You can be here from now on,” you quietly say and you can feel the atmosphere change in an instant. “If… If you want to,” you add.

Harry steps closer again until there are only inches parting you from him. He reaches up and cups your cheek in his hand, his eyes snapping down at your lips when they part.

“There’s nothing I would want more,” he replies, his lips pressing against yours finally.

Suddenly, you’re a curious teenager again, whose heart threatens to jump out of her chest seeing a new letter. The excitement of opening the envelope, reading his words and then writing back to him as soon as possible, it’s all here now that there’s no distance between the two of you.

You belonged to him even before you met and you belong to him now that he is closer to you than ever before.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#fanficmas #fanficmas 2022 #fanficmas2022 #watchmegetobsessed fanficmas #watchmegetobsessed fanficmas 2022 #harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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puer-aurea · 5 months

Text

Etho's session 5 trauma

this literally just fanfiction that i felt like writing bc im obsessed w weeping angel etho. all

which, btw, if you decide to read my fic Gods are Obsessive on wattpad when i start postin it (which should be soon? i hope, i just finished the build for Safe Haven so i can move on to the builds for it then start writing) weeping angel etho will be a big thing when it gets to that point

all platonic btw!!

Etho knows he doesn't have to worry about it anymore. Well, he tells everyone he knows. Most of the other players haven't picked up on it, but Cleo and Grian notice the panic in his eyes and his frantic movements to shift into a less compromising position when someone looks in his direction.

Etho knows he's not a weeping angel anymore. But he can't help the anxiety when he feels eyes on him. He prepares for his joints to lock up like the stone statue the watchers made him into for that task. And then, when they don't, he has the shameful moment of rememberance that he passes off with a nervous laugh.

Grian picked up on the panic first, but both him and Cleo noticed how Etho felt embarrassed about forgetting he didn't have to worry anymore. Neither of them chose to mention it, they knew he was dealing with enough shame (though, they wouldn't say it's shame and they're pretty sure the other players would agree).

The other players haven't noticed the aftermath of Etho's task, but they're not around him much anyway.

Cleo always warns him when she's entering a room, subtly reminding he's not a weeping angel. Grian mostly keeps his eyes off Etho, only looking if it's an emergency.

Etho feels bad they have to walk on egg shells around him but he can't help it. Of course the watchers had to give the person who was figuratively stone cold the task that would literally make him stone. And of course it left everlasting effects. This anxiety ridden person wasn't him.

"Hey, Etho?" Cleo's voice came from downstairs.

"What's up?" Etho could hear the creaking of the stairs and he quickly shifted into a comfortable position at the enchanting table.

"Grian's tired after the warden-wither battle and asked for cuddles."

He could feel her eyes on him and he expected his joints to turn to stone.

"Etho, honey, you're not a weeping angel anymore." She places her hand on his shoulder.

He felt his muscles relax and he let out a breath.

"Yeah, I know. You don't have to remind me."

"I'm pretty sure we do." Cleo and Etho jumped at the new voice as Grian rounded the corner.

"Jeez, Grian. Don't scare us like that!" Cleo laughed.

"It wasn't intentional. Well, it might have been. I'm going to Bdubs' bed. Why don't we have any other beds?" Grian walked off into Bdubs room.

"We put all our beds in the bed shrine and didn't think about ourselves." Cleo followed behind him.

Etho watched them walk away, staying by the enchanting table.

"Come on, Etho! I know you're tired after being chased by the warden. The bed's big enough for the three of us." Cleo called for him.

He let out a small laugh and headed into Bdubs' room for a very much needed nap. He'd be dealing with the weeping angel trauma for a while, but at least his roommates and friends were there to help him cope.

why does this feel poorly written? im bad at dialogue

#secret life #etho secret life #grian secret life #secret life cleo #traffic life series #trafficblr #traffic smp #weeping angel etho #ethoslab #grian #zombiecleo #i forgot how to tag

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thatgirlwithasquid · 18 days

Text

Dear Moor Monster of Mine

3,424 words || read on ao3

I've been meaning to write a wolfblood harringrove au for so very long, so I'm glad that the @harringrove-relay-race gave me the push I needed to finally put my ideas down!

This is the first chapter. The full fic will be up on my AO3, but I didn't want to post too much here haha :)

---

Since the series of incidents last year, Steve’s parents have been keeping an unbearably close eye on him. If you had asked Steve perhaps three years ago, he would have been overjoyed with having his parents around all the time. But, right now, making his walk of shame from the car park where his mam dropped him off to the school’s doors, he can’t bring himself to feel anything other than frustrated.

Instead of travelling away on one of their monthly ‘work conferences’, Steve’s parents have taken to staying home month-round. That now includes the full moons.

When Steve was little he used to hate that his mam and dad left him home alone for such an important day. Sure, they made sure to get nice babysitters or arrange sleepovers for him with Tommy and Carol, but all he had wanted was to share that experience with them. It didn’t matter that he knew he couldn’t do the transformation yet and so couldn’t fully understand it all, they were still his pack and it felt like they just didn’t want to share something that fundamental to wolfblood life with him.

It was isolating and upsetting, no matter how many kisses or how much quality time his parents would try to repay him with upon their return. He just wanted to spend those days with them. But now? Now he would much rather be left alone to watch movies, hang out with his friends, and not have his trainers chewed-through by his mam’s overeager wolf self.

“Nice wellies, Stevie!” Tommy calls out from across the yard as Steve passes by.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up,” he huffs, striding on past to where Nancy and Jonathan are already waiting.

Nancy doesn’t so much as spare him a glance as he comes to a squeaking standstill in front of them. She only manages a distracted ‘Hi, Steve’ as she continues flipping through her bag, clearly looking for something.

“Morning,” he answers anyway before turning to Jonathan.

He’s not looking at Steve either, too distracted by sending his choice of footwear a confused look.

“Planning on trekking through the woods later?” he asks by way of greeting.

“Monsters ate my shoes, had to make do with these instead.”

That makes Nancy’s head finally shoot up. For a moment, she gapes at him, flustered and speechless, before she composes herself with a sigh and a shake of her head.

It’s then that she straightens up, shrugging her bag higher on her shoulder and brushing her hair back behind her ear. It opens her back into the group from where she had otherwise been sequestered off in her own mind. Steve grins at her.

“Don’t joke about stuff like that when Barb’s around,” she reminds him, expression friendly even in spite of her reproach.

“Don’t joke about what when I’m around?”

Well speak of the devil.

They all turn to Barb as she settles herself into their circle. Jonathan and Nancy look pained but Steve just throws an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a squeezing sideways hug.

“Nothing,” he dismisses. “Just the photography club.”

Barb rolls her eyes, leaning back in Steve’s hold to send him a look that says she doesn’t quite believe him. She doesn’t shrug out of his hold, though, and that might be enough to lighten his petulant mood. The pair of them have come a long way since the whole drama around him and Nancy dating, which is something he’s very glad for.

Losing Tommy and Carol as friends stung, no matter how much he knew it was probably for the best; they weren’t very nice people and being around that sort of character wasn’t doing him any favours, but they had been his friends for years. But cutting himself loose from them, and by apologising properly to Jonathan for being nasty about his brother going missing and to Barb for being such a douche, did bring him into a much nicer friend group.

“You’re not still on about that, are you?” Barb asks him.

“Always,” he replies with a grin, raising his brows.

Okay, maybe he’s not fully lost all his douchey-ness, but at least now he can argue it’s just part of his charm. Barb just shakes her head and accepts it with a fond roll of her eyes.

“You already have your own camera,” Steve continues, turning now to address Jonathan, “so it’s not like you need it to be a school club.”

“Yeah, but it’s nice for it to be.”

“Fine, but I still think I deserve more credit for joining.”

“You only put your name down on some paper,” Nancy points out, smiling indulgently at him.

“And wasn’t that to make up for you smashing my camera?” Jonathan pipes up.

Steve cups a hand over his heart with a wounded expression.

“Wow, I see how it is. And, for the record—” he drops his hold on Barb to lean in and jab a finger into Jonathan’s chest “—I replaced that camera, as you should all know. You use it all the time for your stupid club. And what’s the point of the school supplying you with stuff if you bring your own in anyway?”

No one humours that with a response. That’s fine, they’ve gone over this bickering a hundred times before. Steve only really brings it up to wind them up now—all in good humour! At the end of the day, he’s fine with being an on-paper member of their club if it helps them out or whatever, especially since he knows that the Photography Club is Jonathan’s favourite thing about school.

He owes them all as much as well, for continuing to let him hang around. They let him off the hook for last year with less grovelling than was probably deserved.

“Ah,” Barb jumps in. “Speaking of photography… you’ve got to see what I found this morning on the moors.”

She unearths her phone from her bag and Steve winces. Sure, it’s only been about a year that he’s known Barb, but he really has come to like her.

The whole of Hawkins High has always known about her monster on the moors theory—hell, the whole town probably does—and Steve had laughed at it back then, like everyone else, but now Barb is his friend… It leaves a bit of a sour taste in his mouth to think of the way he’d acted about that before, and the way others still act now.

It was arrogance, that sort of reaction. Thinking he was better than her because of her theories. And it was him in particular who was more arrogant than anyone else, hiding behind it to ignore that twinge of anxiety. It was easier to dismiss it all as ridiculous. Steve hadn’t quite been cruel enough to laugh in her face, but he’d still snickered behind his hands with Tommy and Carol before him and Nancy had gotten together early last year.

Now that he knows Barb, it’s definitely worse. With him being around her so often, it feels like he’s waiting for her to look at him a little too closely and see just what lies beneath the surface. And that’s something he really doesn’t want, not just for his own safety.

They had to come a long way to get to where they stand now, but she’s undoubtedly one of his closest friends. Her, Nancy and Jonathan. All three of them—despite their rocky time when Steve had thought Nancy was cheating on him with Jonathan—are the people he cares about most in this world.

He really doesn’t want Barb’s obsession with her own ghost story to get in between them all, he couldn’t handle it if they decided he was still a monster even after everything.

“See?” Barb asks, shoving the screen of her cellphone in their faces.

On it, clear as day, is the photo of a paw print. Realistically, it could be anything so it shouldn’t matter… but Steve can’t help the small shudder of anxiety in his chest. It doesn’t even make sense! His parents couldn’t have been up in the moors to leave that—he would know—and there’s no other wolfbloods around for miles of their territory, so it’s got to be an animal.

And yet.

“Um… What… is it?” Jonathan asks. “Just a paw print?”

Barb huffs, turning to show Nancy instead, who gives the photo a more genuinely intrigued look.

“ ‘Just a paw print’,” Barb grumbles. “This is proof.”

“It could be,” Nancy says, and Steve can tell that she’s serious. “I could also be a fox or something—”

“Yeah, or a stray dog,” Jonathan suggests.

Barb looks at Steve pleadingly, but there’s nothing he can say. He knows this isn’t what Barb wants it to be. It can’t be.

“We need more concrete evidence,” Nancy consoles her instead.

“But this still proves something,” Barb insists. “That there’s something up there.”

“Hey, Barbara!” Carol calls.

The group of them all turn to see Carol, Tina and Vicki walking up behind them.

“I saw something weird on the moors: you.”

The others snicker as they push past, making their way inside. Steve shoots them a sour look as they strut past.

“Whatever, Carol,” Jonathan sighs, never having enough energy to deal with her dramatics.

Steve can’t blame him, it seems impossible that he had been able to get used to what they were like.

“Ignore her,” Nancy tells Barb.

“I will. We’ll show her when we end up being right.”

Nancy nods with an unsettling certainty.

—

Walking in to their form room would be the same as usual were it not for the folder of posters Nancy finally unearths from her bag. She leafs through them, splitting the pile into smaller ones to hand to each of them. Steve accepts his own with a begrudging confusion, peering down at the sign-up sheets and trusting the others to guide his way through the halls.

“When did you have time to print these off?” he asks.

“I came in early,” Nancy tells him with a shrug. “My parents wanted me to show Mike around on his first day anyway, so I was in early.”

Steve hums.

“That’s right, you two—” he gestures between Jonathan and Nancy “—have your brothers starting year 7 now, right?”

Jonathan nods to him; “That’s right.”

They turn a corner, heading towards the stairs up to Mrs Click’s room.

“Why don’t you just get them to sign up for your club, then? They’re nerds. That way you won’t need to stick these up around school.”

Barb rolls her eyes as Steve reaches over her to wave his stack under Nancy’s nose. The brunette just bats him away with an unimpressed look.

“I don’t think they’d find that particularly… cool,” Jonathan answers in her stead, “hanging out with their older siblings.”

Steve shrugs. He can’t say he can relate, being an only child, but whatever, he can see where they’re coming from.

Barb and Nancy are debating the best ways to go about getting new members for the photography club when Steve goes rigid. They take a few more steps before they realise he’s fallen behind and then, with curious eyes, turn back to call out to him.

Steve doesn’t hear a word of it. Something’s off.

An unusual scent roots him to the spot. He doesn’t know what it is—or maybe he does, but it can’t possibly be what he thinks. All he knows is that this has never been here before, and it shocks him with a deep sense of wrongness. It doesn’t belong there.

He needs to root it out.

An instinctive territoriality spurs him onwards, picking up his pace until his friends are following after him with confused shouts. He needs to find whatever left that scent throughout the school. It’s like he can see it, a trail of scent in the air guiding him to whoever or whatever left it.

“Steve?” Nancy is calling. “Steve!”

He just keeps moving, feet carrying him onwards. Turning down hall after hall, paying no attention to the loitering students he shoulders past.

“Steve, you’re going the wrong way,” he thinks that might be Jonathan this time.

The bell rings and more students hurry through the corridor, dispelling the scent trail. If Steve had gone through his first transformation by now, he’d probably still be able to track down whoever left it from the lingering traces, but with his senses not being fully developed yet…

He stands still dumbly, staring ahead with a sense of uselessness. The wolf instinct within him feels unappeased.

“C’mon,” Jonathan coaxes, leading him back over to where Barb and Nancy stand looking concerned. “We’ve got class.”

It’s probably lucky for them all that the scent trail Steve was following didn’t create too big of a detour. As it stands, they get into Mrs Click’s class for form in the nick of time. The woman stands up at the front of the room, talking to an unfamiliar head of blonde curls.

At first, Steve notices nothing askew—Mrs Click is talking to the new student about how she is their form tutor and head of year—but then it washes over him. The adrenaline of nearly being late to his first lesson fades and that scent steals his attention again.

He freezes in where he’s stepped aside to allow Barb to shuffle into their shared desk, eyes swivelling to that new figure. Now that he’s paying attention, it’s like the scent itself is visible in the air, clouding around him with that cloying wrongness and announcing to the world how wrong his presence here is.

There’s a cocksure smirk on his face that makes Steve’s lip curl in disdain, an instinctual need to snarl and warn off the outsider barely suppressed.

“Everyone, this is William Hargrove—”

“Billy,” the new kid buts in. “It's Billy.”

A chorus of ooohs rise from the room, students goading on the attitude shown to their teacher. For her credit, Mrs Click takes it in stride. Instead, she nods and turns to settle the class.

“Okay,” she says, raising her voice over the beginnings of chatter. “That’s enough, thank you…”

But Steve is barely listening. It’s like everything else fades away and his focus narrows down to this William—Billy—still standing at the front of the class. Like Steve’s whole world is overtaken by the beating of his heart and the inescapable smell of him, a smell that’s so familiar. Familiar in a way that has his hackles rising in unease. It’s almost like…

“You smell like my parents,” Steve blurts out, and the rest of the class starts laughing.

Nancy reaches over from her and Jonathan’s desk to yank him down into his seat by the hem of his jumper’s sleeve. She shoots him an unimpressed look as Mrs Click scolds him:

“Alright, Harrington. Sit down.”

Steve barely hears any of them, barely notices any of it. Billy’s eyes had locked on to his, deep and blue and endless. It felt like Steve was falling into them, diving head-first into their emptiness where Billy would eat him alive.

“Steve,” Barb whispers, jabbing him with an elbow.

It’s only then that Steve realises he’s been watching Hargrove as he walks over to an empty seat at the very back of the room.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asks, sounding concerned.

“Nothing,” he dismisses, trying to turn and give her his full attention. “It’s nothing.”

He can’t get involved, not after everything. Steve has been working so hard to prove to his parents and his friends—hell, even to Tommy and Carol as they watch with a smug anticipation for his downfall—that he’s not the guy he used to be. That’s something he can’t just throw away by causing problems with the new kid, even if he’s breaking every rule Steve has ever known.

There’s no question that this Billy is a wolfblood like he is, like his family is. The question is what is he doing here? One doesn’t just set up themselves on some other pack’s territory, and the Harringtons have held the territory around Hawkins for centuries.

By showing up here, Billy is throwing everything off balance, but Steve can’t risk doing anything about it. Not now, not like this. As much as Steve wants to step up and scare him off, this is something he’s going to have to leave to his parents to deal with.

Even as he feels the itch of Billy’s eyes on the back of his neck, Steve keeps on looking ahead.

—

Billy, so it seems, takes no time to settle into Hawkins. By the time lunch rolls around, he’s already settled himself pride of place between Tommy and Carol, a wolfish curl to his grin that flashes just a hint of canine. It’s so outlandishly taunting that Steve has to sit with his back to their table to avoid staring at his sheer gall.

Nancy and Jonathan are discussing the school paper when Steve decides he can’t stand this silence anymore. He tears his head around from looking over his shoulder after Billy’s eyes catch his and his smirk seems to dim.

“Where the hell did he even come from?” he asks, cutting off Jonathan’s suggestion about… actually Steve isn’t sure, something about a book of the week.

“Who?” Nancy asks and Steve jerks his head back to where Billy now keeps sending glances his way.

He can feel the others’ gaze on him, like someone is brushing his fur the wrong way.

“Billy,” he says, trying with great difficulty to keep his tone neutral. “Someone must have seen something. Moving vans or something. Anything.”

Jonathan just shrugs.

“Not that I heard. Seems like everyone’s interested in him now, though.”

Steve looks around again in time to see Tina and Vicki settle themselves in the seats opposite Billy and Carol, effectively severing Steve’s line of sight. He huffs and turns back around. At the very least, them blocking the way soothes that feeling of being observed.

When he meets her eye, Nancy has a concerned look on her face.

“Leave it Steve,” she warns, voice carefully neutral. “You don’t want to get caught up in any trouble again.”

He hears what she’s saying, even if she won’t just come out with it.

I won’t put up with you if you act like an asshole again.

It rankles him. It’s not even like it’s him doing anything wrong here! He almost wants to tell her that, to point out that for once he’s not just being an asshole, but doesn’t dare. He can’t, he reminds himself.

He couldn’t tell Tommy and Carol—probably for the best given their massive fall out—and so he can’t tell these guys either. No matter what. Which means he just has to bite his tongue and mind himself. This is something he just needs to let lie and have his parents handle it.

They can reach out to Billy’s pack, he thinks. And then this will be sorted.

“And who’s that?”

Billy’s voice is clear and quiet with consideration, cutting through all the background noise like he had whispered the words directly into Steve’s ear. He shouldn’t be able to hear it, but he can’t help himself from focusing his enhanced hearing to pick up the conversation.

“Him?” Tommy says, breaking off with a derisive laugh. “That’s ‘King Steve’, used to be top dog around here. The Harrington’s have lived here for years, one of those right old families and Steve acted like it until he got all soft and cosied up to Nancy. Well—” Tommy laughs again and Steve clenches his fist beneath the table “—until Nancy ran off after weirdo Byers, there.”

Billy hums, interested. He doesn’t say anything else, but Steve can feel the way his eyes linger on him for a long moment.

The canteen smells like the sweat of overcrowded kids as he takes in steadying breaths through his nose. Jonathan, Barb and Nancy chat on none the wiser. It takes a long moment, but Steve manages to reign in his self control and steel himself into an icy indifference.

It doesn’t matter what Tommy thinks of him. Steve’s moved on, he’s better than this now. And the new kid won’t be around for long. Wolfblood packs don’t mix; even if he’s here now, he won’t be for long. Him and his pack will be long gone by the end of the week.

---

Stick around to see what wonderful work @medusapelagia has put together for us next!! <3

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove relay race #fanfic #wolfblood au #cannot believe i initially forgot my au tag. for shame #also may or not be still working on the lasy couple chapters cause your girlie had to give up and sleep last night

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koki-hai · 7 months

Note

i’ve been missing nagito lately so can i request a nsfw nagito x fem reader fic with a pervy nagito and a little noncon🤭 any scenario is fine i’m desperate

You ask and I shall answer!

Now keep in mind I don't do much cc x reader only because I'm kinda bad at it but it's Nagito and I can't pass up that now can I (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Content Warning: non-con

Summary: You go into the beach house to dry your hair when you run into a horny Nagito.

Pervy Nagito Komaeda x Reader Smut

You were playing with your friends, Chiaki, Mahiru, Ibuki and Peko in the water. You guys were slashing each other and laughing. You felt nice under the kiss of the sun and the light breeze feathering your exposed skin. You trip on the shallow water while horseplaying with Ibuki and both drop to the floor. After a bit of a laughing fit, you groan a bit, feeling your damp hair sit on your shoulders. A blood curdling scream erupted from Ibuki.

"Oh my my! Ibuki is so sorry! Please y/n! Throw me into a volcano and watch me burn!" Ibuki apologizes profusely to you while her hands are together, praying for an apology.

"Hey Ibuki it's okay don't worry! It's okay! It's just a little water" you try to calm her down as you get up, "It's no biggie! Trust me!"

"But y/n wanted to leave your hair dry! I'm truly sorry!" She insisted as she shakes your shoulders. You smile at her irrational self but try to reassure her. You grab her wrists and pull them down and look at her straight in the eyes.

"It's okay I promise! I mean I started it so it was coming! I'll just go dry my hair in the beach house and hang it up! Don't worry! I'll come back for round 2!" You say to Ibuki, comforting her. She gives you a nod and she tugs at your hair, wringing most of the water out to help you some. You smile and walk away from the group of girls and head to the beach house.

You walk inside the beach house and notice Nagito in there.

"Oh hello there y/n.." he says waving at you, "what are you doing in here? Already leaving?" He asks innocently as he was applying white sun lotion on his even paler white skin, applying it unevenly.

Weird.. you didn't see Nagito around before coming. And he somehow knew you guys just got here 10 minutes ago? You brush this aside these thoughts and just try to focus on drying your hair. "Just here to dry my hair.." you answer curtly.

You take out a towel from the towel rack to wring out your hair some more... Only that there wasn't any towels there. You could've sworn there was. None of you brought towels because you just assumed there would be towels here. No biggie. It is an island after all, not a huge deal seeing people dripping and in swim suits.

You look around and think to yourself for a moment. You see Nagito, his back facing you, applying sun lotion on his legs rather sloppily..

"Hey Nagito.. you know where the towels are..? You were here before me, right?" You ask awkwardly, playing with your damp hair.

After a few seconds of silence just watching his stange behavior, he turns a little bit in your direction, and see he had a small grinnon his face on his side profile.

"H-hey.. um.. is that a yes?" You ask "Y-you were here before me right?" You ask again, feeling way more uncomfortable than when you first arrived.

"Of course I was in here before you girls, y/n! I don't knew where the towels are but it would be a shame if there was however! It's a beach.. you're supposed to get wet right? It's no biggie.. it's an island!"

He says casually as he closes his bottle of sun lotion. His words scare you a bit. Almost as if he read your mind the moment you opened the door. "Right.. well I want to keep m-"

"Oh of course! I think there's a small hand towel in the bathroom you can use.. hopefully that'll be enough!" He says happily. Shivers crawl down your spine. Has he been listening to your guys' conversation?

By this point you were getting creeped out so you walk in to the bathroom after thanking him. Not to mention the guy had a very noticeable tent under his swim trunks. Which was probably why he was turned away from you.

As soon as you walk in you notice it was oddly darker than usual. The only hint of light being from the small window at the upper top of the room. Naturally, you try to look for a light switch. You opened the door more, letting the natural light from the main bath house in so you could look for the switch.

Once you get the light open Nagito suddenly appears, looking at you with an innocent smile. "Do you need help y/n?" He asks, "I can help you with your hair!" Nagito declares.

"Oh um.. sure.." you say, too scared to object. He snatches the small hand towel and begins to dry your hair roughly with it. "Don't go.. um too hard.." you say feeling a bit uncomfortable. He nods and rubs the towel a bit gently.

After a while it actually starts to feel nice, but you were still uncomfortable by the entire thing overall. He was being a little forceful admittedly. When you were lost in thought, you felt a hand touch your exposed right side slowly. He rubbed your side, as if you were a pet. You start to feel worse and tried to shift to the left but he grabs your waist tightly, restricted your movement. You can feel his breathe, heavy and steamy. He moves his hand down to your lower stomach. His fingers start to tease right at your bikini line. His fingers swiping up and down at the area.

You felt like such a mess. You got yourself into this. You thought you could trust nagito. Of course not. If only you weren't stubborn to just let your damn hair not get wet. You tried to move again when you feel him get close to your crotch. He drops the hand towel and uses his left hand to grab your shoulder tightly. You nearly jumped out your skin when you feel someone wet and smiley on your tongue. He started to kitten lick it and then started nibbling at it.

That's when you felt it.

His sharp teeth on your neck. You could feel everything. His heavy breath, his tongue, everything. Both his hands grab at your hips, keeping you still and lowering your posture. He begins to dry hump you.

"Ahh~... ahhh.. y-y/n... ahhh.. you feel so fresh~.. so nice~.." Nagito moans in your ear.

You tried to make one more attempt to leave when you felt the repeating motion on your backside. You make a run forward to the door. Nagito growls in anger and he runs over and pushes you down to the floor. You catch yourself on your heads and land on your knees painfully. He gets on top of you, doggy style and dry jumps you repeatedly while holding onto your hips tightly.

"D-dont fucking try to leave.. you'll only make things.. ahh.. w-worse for yourself y/n~.." he whimpers as he humps you at a faster pace, "it makes you all the more desirable.."

You feel his heavy and strong body on you. You were almost surprised by his strength despite his skinny figure. You gave up all your attempts to escape because you didn't want this to escalate any further.

"O-Oh my god! You're so soft! You're so fu-fucking soft~!" He humps you faster and faster like an animal in heat. He was going insane and you couldn't do a thing about it.

"Nagito! Please stop! Please! I've had enough!" You beg, not knowing what to do at this point. You knew your begging wouldn't do anything. You were in denial about it all. But it wasn't like you could leave.

"Yes! Y-yes~! Please beg! Please!" Nagito moans in his sick, raspy voice, "More! You sound so desperate~!"

After a few more grueling minutes of this unwanted treatment, he stops for a minute, staying still, and then twitch his whole body. He pushes your body down flat onto the ground. Your face hits the cold hard floor and feel Nagito's weight on top of you, his body going limp on yours.. He pants in your ear excessively. He was holding onto your waist with the little strength he had left.

"y-y/n.. you were so g-good~"

You feel tears stream your cheeks. You bite your lip harshly until you could've sworn it'd bleed. All you could think of was why? Why you? Why did he have to stalk all of you? Was he planning this? Was he going to do this with any other girl?

As you were lost in thought again, he hear him start to snore softly. His sweaty hair all over the side of your face. You were too afraid to move and just lie down there with him. You were scared he'd try to do something even if he were asleep. You're eyes close slowly as you try to imagine what you could've been doing right now if it weren't for Nagito.

(Hopefully you guys liked it. I'm trying to work on my writing skills and I accept all constructive criticism! :))

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mandiemegatron · 3 months

Text

•]••´º´•» 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ; «•´º´••[•

Afab & Named Reader x Shachi

Rated: 18+, porn with minor plot, first time sex, pussy eating, whimpering needy Shachi, smut smut smut ♡

A birthday fic for my bestie Venus [@buggyandthebartoclub ]!! She asked for something Shachi and I was more than happy to deliver 🤭🤭🤭💖💖💖 I am so blessed and overjoyed to have one of the world's most amazing people as a bestie, I am so happy you exist my lovely Venus. Thank you for coming into my life and fueling my selfship craziness and for supporting my life's journey. You are such a wonderful person and I'm so happy I get to be a part of your life. I hope you enjoy this little treat, my love!!

HAPPY MUDDAFUCKIN BIRTHDAY !!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊

A HUGE thank you to my beta @moss-woods , I am nothing without you, thank you for everything 😭😭😭😭💖💖💖💖💖

Songs to listen to while reading ; one , two

You'd been living on the Polar Tang for nearly a year when your birthday came round, almost missing it if it weren't for Ikkaku saying something as you two were getting dressed for a boiler room shift.

“Is it February already?” You murmured absent-mindedly, zipping up your suit and turning to face her. Your best friend shook her head with a laugh of disbelief, nearly shocked that you'd forget what day it was.

“Your birthday is literally tomorrow, dude.”

You frowned slightly, giving a soft hum before slipping into your boots, tying them tight. While you knew Christmas had already passed, it did not feel like it was already February.

“Time passes so weird on the sub,” you commented as you both left your shared room, closing the door behind you.

“You get used to it,” She replied, tugging you down the hallways towards the kitchen area. You both waved and said your good mornings to Uni and Penguin, who sat at the bartop eating breakfast.

“There's coffee brewed if you want it,” Penguin commented to you, nodding his head at you in a form of acknowledgement. You grinned in response and poured yourself a cup, giving a soft, delighted hum as you took a long sip.

“Well, if it isn't the most gorgeous thing to ever grace this little ship!”

You raised an eyebrow in jest at Shachi who rounded the corner, a grin of his own already cracking his face as he closed in towards you. He leaned down slightly to smack a loud kiss to your cheek, ignoring your grunt of protest before gently snatching your coffee from your hands.

You gawked at him as he chugged it back, giving a loud, content sigh as he placed the mug down. There was a moment of bewildered silence before all four of you jumped him, shouting swears and beating the redhead into a lump in the corner.

Cradling a new cup of Joe in your hands, you followed Ikkaku down to the boiler room, giving a cranky groan as you sat at the table containing the ship's blueprints. Ikkaku sat across from you, picking up one of the sheets from the table and giving a groan of her own as she did her morning checklist.

“You wanna check gauges for me when you're ready?”

You gave a tired grunt in response, taking another few sips before making your way to the first boiler tank. Picking up the clipboard hanging on the side, you checked the gauges and wrote down the numbers, just like you'd done hundreds of times. After documenting them all and signing off with your initials, you moved onto the second and did the exact same, humming along to the snail-radio that sat off to the side of the room.

“Hey Vee, so uh,”

You glanced over your shoulder at Ikkaku, a questioning look on your face as you waited for her to continue. She opened her mouth and you both jumped as the boilers turned on with loud groans and clanks, the heat coming off them immediately causing you both to begin sweating.

You both groaned at the same time, knowing they only did that when it got too cold outside the sub, which could freeze the mechanics inside the ship if the temperature dropped too low.

“We must be getting close to a winter island,” You commented as you unzipped the top half of your suit, tying it around your waist comfortably, glad you had put on a proper tank top underneath. Ikkaku followed suit, giving a slight cough as she finally continued,

“So… you uh, you and Shachi, huh?”

Your face burst into bright reds at her question, your answer catching in your throat as you sign off on the second boiler.

“You got me fucked up, what are you going on about?”

Your bestie gave a loud laugh in reply, reaching closer and whacking your shoulder with a friendly punch.

“You can't hide shit from me, you dumb bitch. Try again.”

An anxious groan escaped you as you moved onto the third boiler, picking up the clipboard before giving your best friend a long sigh. You stared at the ceiling for a second before finally admitting,

“Yeah, okay, me and Shachi are um, interested in each other?”

Ikkaku gave a cackle of triumph, clinging to you and shaking you by your shoulders.

“Oh, I fuckin’ knew it! The way you didn't immediately punch him when he smooched your cheek and stole your coffee earlier-”

You quickly shushed her, looking around nervously before looking back to her with an anxious reply of,

“We just don't want to get in trouble. We don't even know if we're allowed to date, so we're just… trying to keep it on the down low, you know?”

Ikkaku gave you a pointed stare, crossing her arms over her chest as she questioned,

“You guys really think the Captain wouldn't let you guys be happy together? I don't think he'd be like that, especially with it being your birthday tomorrow.”

You sighed heavily and tapped the clipboard against your forehead a few times before explaining,

“It's not that, it's just, you know, a professionalism thing. We live together, we work together, it's a bit of a dangerous thing, honestly.” you chewed your bottom lip for a moment before continuing softly, “At least, to me it feels like that.”

Ikkaku thought over your words for a second before giving you a solid nod, her expression understanding as she patted your shoulder.

“Alright … I get it. I won't say anything.”

Feeling like a weight was lifted from you, you gave her a nod of your own, a small smile on your face as you thanked her. As she walked away to do her own work, you finished up your readings and initialed off, going back to the table and finishing off your now lukewarm coffee.

“Venus-ya.”

You turned and gave Law a wave, to which he returned with a nod of his hatted head.

“Are you done here?”

You looked to Ikkaku who gave a nod, sipping her own coffee as she waved you both off.

“I can handle it from here, thanks for your help!”

Your Captain looked down to you and quietly asked,

“A moment of your time?”

Anxious gnawing ate away at your stomach at his words, giving him a wide eyed look before nodding slowly. You asked in the same tone,

“... am I in trouble?”

Your Captain gave you a cheeky, raised eyebrow in return, not verbally replying as he turned and began walking out of the boiler room. You and Ikkaku shared a look before you took off after him.

You caught up quickly, grateful that he slowed slightly as you walked side by side. Worry washed over your skin at the silence, wanting to ask him literally anything to rid the buzz that rang in your ears, but nothing came out.

You followed behind as he led you into his office, though you froze at the doorway as you take in Shachi sitting in one of the chairs in front of Law's desk. Both your faces turned white as you made eye contact, slowly finding your way to your chair and sitting down.

There was a heavy silence in the office as Law sat down, rubbing at his face for a few moments before giving a sigh, leaning back in his chair as he stared at the two of you.

“So.”

You clasped your hands together tightly in your lap, your nails digging into the backs of your hands as you waited for him to continue, unable to look over and see if Shachi was just as nervous.

“Is there something you two want to tell me?”

There was another heavy silence that weighed over the three of you until Shachi finally spoke up, his voice quiet but honest.

“... I'm in love with her.”

You whipped your head to the side, staring at him with wide, teary eyes as your heart leapt into your throat. He only stared at Law, his gaze dark and serious behind his shades which his Captain could almost physically feel.

“And you?”

You turned back to Law as a few tears slipped down your cheeks, causing your Captain to stiffen at seeing them. He went to say something when you cut him off, your voice shaky as you replied,

“I love him.”

Shachi reached over and gripped your clasped hands in one of his, his touch warm and grounding though his palm was slightly sweaty. You flashed him a quick, watery grin before you both looked back to Law.

The Heart Pirate Captain was silent, watching you both with a hawk eyed expression, mulling over his words as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“... I'm happy for you two.”

Excitement washed over the both of you as you visibly relaxed, your hands peeling apart to cling to Shachi's. Law watched you two for a moment more before continuing,

“While I can accept this, I expect you both to be respectful of those around you and also of each other. I don't want my ship falling apart due to you having a fight or anything. I expect work to be completed as usual, I expect nothing but the best from either of you, am I understood?”

You and Shachi nodded eagerly at his words, grins washing over both your faces as Law continued,

“You have my blessing. All I ask is that you be safe with this decision,” he made a point to look at you, causing your face to burn red. “I know you're on birth control but things can happen. I expect you both to be incredibly careful about this.”

You sniffled softly and wiped at your face with one hand, the other still clinging to Shachi's as you murmured out gratefully,

“Thank you, Captain.”

Law simply nods in response before going back to his books on his desk.

“You're dismissed. Back to work, both of you.”

You and Shachi rise from your chairs and make quick work of leaving his office, only getting a few steps away from his door before Shachi scoops you up into his arms, pressing hot kisses to your face as he holds you close. You cling to him in response, catching his lips against yours a few times as a delighted laugh leaves you.

“I'm so in love with you, Venus,” he barely gets out, his fingers digging into the suit wrapped around your waist. “You have seriously made me the happiest guy on the Grand Line.”

You can't help but grin up at him, an ecstatic and loving look spread across your face as you replied,

“I feel the same, Shachi. I love you so much.”

You both spend a few more moments holding each other, not wanting to separate just yet and a desperate thought comes to Shachi as he asks in a soft purr,

“Can I have you before we go back? I can't wait, I need you-”

You cut him off with a heavy kiss, one hand clinging to the back of his head, fingers tangled into his fiery locks. He accepts that as your answer and picks you up, his strong hands under your ass as your legs wrap around his waist.

“Our room is closer, go there,” you whisper breathlessly, holding tight to him as he walks around the corner and opens the door to you and Ikkaku's room. He locks the door behind him and lays you on the bed, your legs untangling from him.

There's nothing but the sounds of you both breathing, your gazes locked as Shachi slowly rips his suit from his body, his black tank top clinging to his skin. You watch with loving eyes as he rips his shades and hat from his head, setting them on your dresser before removing the rest of his clothes.

You begin removing the rest of your suit and in a flash, you're both naked, his body covering yours as your tongues fight for dominance. Your hands scratched over his back, angry red lines covering his gorgeous skin as his sharp teeth grazed over your throat, desperate to sink into your skin.

“Please let me eat that pussy, babe, I need to taste you so bad.”

You clenched around nothing, already soaked and wanting as he whines and pants in your ear. You give a shaky nod, unable to reply in anything other than gasps and soft moans as he slowly makes his way down. He gives a needy groan at the sight of your cunt, already glistening and ready for him as he descends down.

Your eyes fall shut as his mouth meets your clit, immediately sucking on the small bud for a bit before his long tongue swipes over and into your entrance, licking up all your slick with a delighted moan. You cover your face with a heavy hand, huffing and whimpering as he devours you inside and out. His tongue dances over your clit again, moving up and down as he slides two of his fingers into you.

You can't bite back the groan that leaves you, the pads of his fingers pressing up and into the soft spot that makes you see stars. He's muttering every once in a while, his hips grinding the tip of his strained cock against the bed as he fucks his fingers into you, his tongue licking and pressing roughly against your tender and swollen bud.

You feel it rush through you, creeping up like a tingling flame over your skin as you moan out,

“Shachi, o-oh Shachi please, I'm so close, I'm so close,” and that's when you finally hear it, what he's been begging the whole time.

“Cum on my face, please cum on my face, I need to taste you, I need you to cum all over me, God, please Venus, please cum on my face-”

His words send you over the edge, a gasping moan catching in your throat as you go blind for a second, your body shaking and twitching as he continues to finger fuck you. He gives a delighted gasp and whine as you squirt a bit, coating his hand, forearm, and face with your essence.

When he finally relents, you catch your breath and let your hand fall away from your face, your eyes catching his as he sucks every drop of you from his hand, making sure to keep your gaze as he does it.

“I'm glad I thought of this,” he quips, his tone cheery as he moves to cover your body with his once more. You tiredly pull him to you and he's quick to lift your already aching legs to your chest, the tip of his fat cock pressing against your still throbbing entrance. He gives you a pointed look, which you wave off with a lightheaded grin, running a lazy hand through his hair.

“I love you, Shachi,” you moan out breathlessly, causing the redhead to stutter slightly before he begins to press into you, pulling a ragged gasp from your already sore throat.

“I love you,” he returns, his own voice catching in his chest as he thrusts gently once, twice and finally fills you with a third, a whining gasp leaving him as he barely gets out,

“You feel like heaven, your pussy is paradise, I love you, I love you-”

You whimper as he finally begins moving, your cunt pulsing around his cock as his tip presses against the tip of your cervix, the pain washing away as pleasure quickly overtakes your senses. His hands on your hips are tight, bruising as he leans down to clamp his teeth around the space between your neck and shoulder, a low groan rumbling in his chest at the way you clench around his cock.

“You feel so good, you're so good, oh fuck, fuck, fuck,”

His hips are relentless, pounding his cock into you over and over, not stopping even as your second orgasm slams into you from nowhere, your cunt fluttering and milking him for everything he has. His eyes rolled back as he lost his pace for a moment, the feeling of being inside you making him lose all sense of logic.

“Please let me cum inside you, I need to fill you, I want to fill you so badly, I want everyone to know you're mine, please let me cum inside you, please babe please,” Shachi begs, his voice climbing higher and higher as he nears his end. You simply nod, moving your legs to wrap around his waist and keeping him to you as you barely get out,

“Please fill me, Shachi,”

At those words, Shachi loses it, a guttural moan leaving him as he presses into you a few more times, thrusting one last time and filling you with his hot seed. You whimper at the feeling, the heat and slick slipping out of your cunt and staining your bedsheets.

You cling to each other, both of your highs seeming to never end as you take in each other. It feels like forever when he finally pulls away, picking his weight off you and staring down at you with the softest, most loving expression you'd ever seen on his beautiful face.

“... I love you,” he whispers. Your heart overflows with love for him, your hands moving to cup his cheeks as you reply, “I love you so much.”

He grins weakly down at you before catching your lips with his, his love for you pouring into this one kiss. After a few more moments, he finally moves away from you and gathers his clothes, quickly getting dressed and helping you into your own. You wince as your shoulder aches, his bite mark throbbing though you touch it with prideful fingertips, your cheeks burning as just thinking about it.

“Now everyone will know you're my hot, sexy girlfriend,” he teases, pinching your buttcheek and laughing when you whack the back of your hand against his chest.

Gathering a change of underwear, a different tank top, sports bra and your bath towel, you sigh and groan out,

“Well, I'm going to shower before I head to the kitchen. Lunch prep, yay,” you waved a hand in pretend excitement, your dull tone causing Shachi to burst into laughter.

“I think you need to simmer down there babe, you are way too excited for this,” he jokes, following you out of the room while sliding his hat back on.

“Sorry, let me just,” you give him a deadpan expression and in the most boring tone you could pull, you bit out,

“Woo. Hoo.”

Peels of laughter left your boyfriend, his arms slinging around your shoulder as he led you down to the showers.

“I love you,” he murmurs again, pressing a quick kiss to your temple as Penguin and Bepo come around the corner.

“There you are! Dude, you've been missing for almost two hours!”

Shachi gives a shrug at Penguins complaining, lowering his shades just enough to throw you a wink before he walks on with his fellow men.

“Ah, sorry guys, I just had to help Venus with something, that's all.”

You shake your head, face burning bright as you walk into the showers, ready to let the hot water wash away the remnants of your moment with your lover.

As the water scalds your skin, you let your head fall back and rest against the cool wall of the shower, a wide grin in your face as the spray washed over your body.

You felt like you were on cloud nine. Truly, there was nothing better than getting a boyfriend for your birthday.

#mandies mumbles ; fanfics #named reader x shachi #named reader fic #one piece #shachi #op shachi #ok to rb #holy FUCK DUDE i could not fucking stop writing ??????!!!!!#i absolutely LOVED writing this #happy birthday my bestie 😭😭😭💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖#i love you sm !!!! 💖💖💖💖🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊 i hope you enjoy 😭😭😭😭😭

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curiouselleth · 25 days

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Be He Foe or Friend

Decided to start posting this here as well! (ao3)

Be He Foe or Friend is a Silmarillion choose your own adventure fic I've been writing for a little while now, and right now I have 3 rounds of chapters out (including the first one.) At the end of each chapter there is a choice, and the one you choose corresponds with which chapter you read next! Right now I have the next chapters on ao3 linked in the options at the bottom, and I'll be reblogging this post with the next chapters!

This is written in second POV, as if you, the reader, are Lalwen.

Chapter 1: Introductions

“You are still young and this is a big step, my darling Lalwen, but as my daughter and princess of the Noldor, it is time you start attending court and finding your role as a princess of our people. I know you are unsure, but I have every confidence that the people will adore you.” your father said encouragingly.

“Are you sure, atar? I fear due to the controversy of your and amil’s marriage I may be ill received not just in the court, but by the people if I begin to take a greater role…”

Finwë tucks a braid behind your ear, “do not fear my darling, Fingolfin and I will be with you the entire time, even Fëanor will be there today.”

You smile, take a shaky breath, and nod, “I suppose we should stop stalling, then.”

“Lalwen, my daughter, my darling, my precious. You are the one stalling, not me!” we laughed.

---

The court hall had always been lavishly adorned. Precious metals were inlaid into the very stone of the walls and floor, running like rivers and vines. The floor is a beautiful mosaic depicting the path the Noldor traveled from the very waters of Cuiviénen in the far east to the border of the home of the Noldor in the west, the white city of Tirion. The thrones sat on a raised dais, and upon each step a level of the city is depicted, until the top step, which shows the gardens outside this very hall, with the thrones in the middle sitting where the Court Hall would be depicted on the mosaic.

Windows of vibrantly colored glass depicting scenes of the Noldor’s travels and crafts starting nigh a step up from the floor stretch fathoms up, nearly to the ceiling where finely polished gemstones hanging in the eaves and vaults of the roof sparkle brilliantly in the light of the two trees. Between the windows hang intricately woven tapestries displaying the symbols of all the different Craft Guilds gently billowing as a breeze passes through the great doors of the hall.

Today the hall is filled with Noldor dressed in their finest clothes and jewels, and so many elves that they had to remove the benches that lined the halls to make more space. Garlands of flowers and vines stretch across the hall- no, not flowers! Finely crafted stones, ores and gems, shaped and arranged so realistically that one who was not accustomed to the Noldor would not even see the difference between these and the most beautiful of Yavanna’s blooms. If the light of the trees were any brighter the scene would be near blinding with the light reflecting off all the gems, metalwork, and polished stone.

There were also minstrels scattered through the hall, playing soft, joyful melodies and harmonies, for today a new Princess of the Noldor was taking her place in the court.

As the Royal family enters, a hush falls over the hall, so that the very steps of even baby Finarfin, your young brother, can be heard by the elves' ears.

Finwë leads your family in with Indis and baby Finarfin between them, as they pass the people bow, then Fëanor, Nerdanel his wife, pregnant again already! You marvel for a brief moment, and their son Maedhros. Next Fingolfin, your brother, and his betrothed Anarie.

Then it’s your turn. After you pass, the elves rise from their bow, and when you reach the dias and turn, about to take your seat, they erupt into thunderous applause and cheering.

It took several minutes for the crowd to quiet again so Finwë could properly introduce your joining the court. Such was their excitement to have a new Princess in court, as your sister Findis discovered that court was not for her and had begun contemplating becoming a devotee of Varda. The rest of the court session passed in a blur, so luckily there were not any matters that required your attention.

Unlike Findis, Fingolfin, your brother, had taken to court and politics like a… well like how only a prince of the Noldor could.

Fëanor too had taken to courtly matters quickly as well, though his true passions were lore and smithing. Even though he was your half-brother, and your eldest sibling, you did not know much more about him then any other elf, as his disdain for Indis, your mother, and Fingolfin, your brother, usually resulted in him visiting seldom, and on the few occasions he did, he was rather haughty, although never to the point of being straight out rude. He seemed rather tolerable on easier topics though, the few times you had the chance to speak.

Perhaps it was seeing how confident Fëanor and Fingolfin were and how sure in themselves and their beliefs they were was what made you hold your head higher, and even began to allow a seed of courage to begin to take root.

---

Perhaps you should’ve expected someone would ask you about it. It had been controversial from the start, and the memory of elves was long, so it may always be so. But when they asked you if you thought it was fair to Míriel, who was barred from ever being re-embodied when your parents married, it still shook you. For you to say it was unfair would be to say that you wish yourself, your sister, and brothers would never, should never have been born, and your parents never married.

To say that it was not unfair to Míriel who was to be left dead permanently was to appear callus, saying that she made her choice and should never be returned to life.

Your half brother, Fëanor, the son of Míriel, would never miss the opportunity to argue for justice for his mother. But none could blame him, for he alone in all elves born in Valinor knew the pain of the death of a parent, in the undying lands. And furthermore the strange feeling of the loss of one who will never return.

Your brother Fingolfin usually took a more delicate approach, recognizing that Míriel did make a choice for herself, so Finwë had the right to do the same for himself.

All this passed through your mind in a flash, and you voiced your support for:

Fëanor’s position that it was unjust to Míriel, and Fëanor himself for he lost his mother permanently. Go to Fëanor’s Position

Fingolfin’s position that Míriel made her choice, sad that it was, and Finwë had the right to seek happiness when Míriel chose to leave, as Manwe, King of All Arda, declared Finwë’s right to remarry. Go to Fingolfin’s Position.

Allowing everyone, including Finwë and Míriel, privacy in difficult decisions such as these and that the discussion of such personal matters should not be a matter of public debate, despite the fact that it was about their King. Go to Privacy for Eru’s Sake!

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lxm-memories · 2 years

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happy birthday, love w/ ike eveland

✧ ike eveland x reader

✧ synopsis: a day of celebration with all of his friends brings ike the utmost joy, and he's already close to tears when you come and congratulate him yourself.

✧ content: drabble, just serotonin - i want my boi to be happy

✧ rule of thumb: please read my works as fiction related to the streamers, they are in no way real or connected to what the actual streamer is as a person - i write for the personas of luxiem, not for the person behind them.

✧ a/n: happy birthday to my perfect blue boi! i'm in the same timezone as him so this is just !! but all day tomorrow is dedicated to just watching this swedish boy be happy and be surrounded by the people he deserves to be around with. oh and she's a lengthy one for once. a lengthy fic - my god the more i write the more i fear each drabble fic gonna become longer and longer

Ike has spent his previous birthdays mostly alone with you. Wanting to spend the day of what you considered a special, but he a: "normal day" relaxing and being with someone he treasures. And he was happy like that.

But today, in the early morning of his birthday he's positively glowing. Beaming in joy for events and gifts that has yet to even happen. When you wake up to his soft humming as he's running back and forth getting ready for his stream, you can only smile softly at him before you get up to prepare for the day as well.

And Ike is too busy getting his necessary snacks and drinks set up to notice you shrugging on your backpack, and it's only when he peeks over the corner that he sees you standing by the entrance, idly waiting for him notice you: "Oh...? Where are you going?" your heart sinks a bit when you hear his dejected voice, his glowing happiness momentarily breaking in what you only know is him starting to misunderstand your intentions: "No- Ike, sweetie," you whisper, heading into the corridor to cup his cheeks.

"This year is the first year that you're spending it with more than just me, isn't it?" you breathe, kissing all over his face to make him relax: "I'll watch your stream and be there, but I want you to spend this first half with all those precious friends you've made first," you say, pulling back to see his smile come back, a slight flush to his cheeks: "And when that is all done, we'll celebrate once more, just the two of us."

So throughout the day, you're tuning into his stream, watching him get drowned in love both from his fanbase and his beloved friends he has made while getting things ready for the evening. And you watch his streams as the day passes, seeing him enjoying his time and play games with his friends - be overwhelmed to tears by the various projects by his fanbase.

And it's at the start of the evening when you decide to get up from the café that you decide to get up and get the things that you've ordered right before you had left the house, seeing Ike too start to round up his long day of streaming.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

When you enter the dark apartment, you can faintly hear Ike still talking to everyone and had yet to notice that you've come home. Using this time to get your own surprise ready as well, you scurry around the apartment as silent as possible. Taking out plates and cutlery and setting them up as well as the couple of present that you've ran around the city getting: Ike streaming for 10 hours did leave you with plenty of time after all.

When you hear him start to say his goodbyes, voice full of emotion and gratitude, you peek open to his door to wait for the exact moment when he stops the stream and take off his headphones. Sneaking up behind him, you wait for him to stretch out and pop the bones in his body before you wrap your arms around his neck, covering his eyes: "Hello there," you whisper, the boy jolting in surprise at your arrival.

"Hey, welcome home!" he says, turning around in his chair and slipping your hands away from your eyes to rest on his neck, wrapping his arms around your waist as he buries his face into your stomach: "I missed you," he breathes into your clothes and you chuckle as you run your hands through his hair, bending down to give the top of his head a peck: "You still up for one more surprise, love?" he blinks, looking up at you with eyes glimmering and you once again bend down to kiss him properly.

Tangling your fingers together, you pull him up with a chuckle: "Come on birthday boy, it's still 2 hours left of your birthday after all," you say pulling the novelist along with you towards the living room.

And you didn't think his eyes could light up more than it already has, but boy his eyes are positively sparkling when he sees the pure white cake on the table decorated with strawberries: "Is that a strawberry-"

"A strawberry shortcake, I was tuning into your streams every so often during the day, and I somehow always tune in whenever you lament over not getting that cake, so now you don't need to wait until the next morning at least," you inform, already seating him down on the couch and going to the kitchen to grab a knife.

"Oh, but before you can dig it," you exclaim, setting the knife down before grabbing the wrapped box from underneath the table: "It may not be as grand as every other gift that you've seen and even have yet to see, but I hope you'll still like it nonetheless," you say with a smile, handing the gift over to Ike who was staring at it in awe, "No, don't say that - you know that everything you get me is something I'll treasure no matter what," he whispers, forfeiting his seat on the couch to give you a hug again, "Even if what you would give me would just one of those cliche coupons in animes that says free hugs from you," he adds on with a laugh, to which you slap his shoulder lightly in response.

Opening the gift in concealed excitement, you see the exact moment that the contents take him by surprise, and chuckle once again when you see him tear up again: "W-when," he whispers, picking up the personally engraved books with his name on it and a quill ballpoint that's also been engraved with his initials, turning it over to admire it: "You still love writing on paper after all, and I've had ordered this to be made two weeks prior to your birthday? I had ordered a couple of books so it took a while longer since they're all different," you explain and Ike is once again pouting at you trying to hold back his tears.

"Thank you," he whispers, putting the books back inside the box before once again pulling you into his arms for a hug, burying his face into your neck: "Thank you so much, I don't remember the last time I was this happy on my birthday."

"What? So you weren't happy with me alone before?" you say with a laugh, but wrap your arms around his shoulders before giving him a peck on his forehead since the boy is refusing to look up from your neck: "Happy birthday, love. Now why don't we go and eat that cake, hmm?"

#luxiem #luxiem x reader #luxiem imagines #nijisanji #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #ike eveland #ike eveland x reader

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pastanest · 1 year

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A/N: shamelessly inspired by the legend that is Amanda Bynes cinematic masterpiece which, if you have not seen it, is too iconic for words and also @januaryembrs imagine Making Of A Man, so please read that one bc it is INCREDIBLE and is on my Jon Snow fic recs list for VERY good reason!!

warning: light reference to SA (reader does what we all wish we could’ve done tho fr and doesnt actually get SA’d, it’s just implied what could’ve happened). also flashing tiddies as god (Amanda Bynes) intended x

Jon Snow x she/her!reader

part one can be found here

She’s The Man - Part Two

It had become commonplace by then, for you to wait at the top of the highest hill in town, as early as you could, for any sign of the Stark banner approaching. If they were going to arrive that day, you knew you would see them at first light, because Lord Eddard Stark often arrived with tired eyes while his two sons would be reliably bouncing with excitement, having woken him in the earliest hours they could to begin their journey.

More often than not, you would stay up there from dawn until your mother called you in for breakfast. You did not expect to see them most days, but you could not withhold your excitement at the possibility of a direwolf waving at you from afar, letting you know that your favourite person in the whole world was on his way.

That morning was one of the rare and beautiful dawns on which you did see your favorite sigil approaching in the distance, and the moment you did, you were sprinting back home as fast as your little legs would carry you, feeling like you were moving at a pace not so far from flying, the wind in your hair only reinforcing that childish dream. Of course, you were shouting at the top of your lungs all the way down the hill.

“DARIUS, DARIUS, DARIUS!” Your yelling did not cease even once you were at his bedside and violently shaking him into a delirious consciousness.

“What is i- Oh, by the GODS (Y/N), let me REST!” He would shout back, burying his face under his pillow.

“NO! JON SNOW AND THE STARKS ARE HERE! COME ON, COME ON, COME ONNN!” You would squeal, running around the room in an excited daze while your brother continued to groan in annoyance.

Before long, your brother would have given in and dragged himself out of bed, stumbling after you as you ran back out into the street and collected yourself. Every single time the Starks rode into town, without fail, you would find a place to situate yourself on their path and appear as though you had casually been there, completely by coincidence and not at all by careful planning. Meanwhile, your poor brother would still be yawning and wiping his eyes, leaning against anything he could find nearby just to keep himself standing upright. That particular occasion, you had hidden around the side of a house that did not belong to your family and you were peering round the corner to keep an eye on the progress of the wolves as they descended. Your brother, on the other hand, was round the same corner but leaning against the wall, making no effort to witness the arrival of his childhood friends because the little energy he had at the time was focussed on being forced awake and trying to stay that way. There was not a power strong enough to wipe the smile from your face when you saw the dark curls of Jon Snow bobbing up and down atop his horse, turning from side to side as he searched for you.

And like a rehearsed scene from a play, you would step out and wave at him, immediately receiving the beaming smile he saved just for you, while his father and brother watched on with pleasant smiles, overjoyed to see the Snow of the family greeted with such obvious excitement.

“Lord Jon! To what do I owe the pleasure this time?”

In the month that has passed beyond the wall, Jon has asked you about your sister less and less, and you cannot decide whether that is a blessing or a curse. On the one hand, not having to talk about yourself in third person or live with the yearning expression in his eyes as he spoke of you without realizing you were right in front of him, was definitely a blessing. On the other hand, the less he mentioned you, logic would suggest that equated to him thinking of you less, and you could not decipher what that meant. You wondered if it alluded to him moving on, trying to forget about the feelings that he was certain he would never be able to act on, for his own good. That, you understood. After all, he has taken an oath; one that you have since taken, too. Perhaps he simply does not wish to entertain such fantasies, you think. But there have been one too many moments with him that have made that difficult for you to believe.

The conversations you have each and every night, whether it be while on watch together or in the quarters you share, are spent smiling and laughing so much that your faces ache, getting to know each other on levels unknown to anybody else. Every time you see each other after being apart for mere minutes is enough to have you grinning at each other, like you did on the day you arrived. The things you have talked about, from feelings to dreams and your deepest, darkest fears, are not things that are often shared between men, from what you know of your time living amongst them as one. But, more than that, there have been specific instances that have made you question particular things about the man you have grown up believing you know better than you know yourself.

For example, three weeks ago, when Ser Alliser had been overseeing a training session and deliberately paired you off with a man far bigger, far stronger and far more experienced in fighting than you were. Jon had tried his best to reassure you in the skill you had gained, but he could see the fear in your eyes, and he knew deep down that you were not skilled enough to take on someone so much bigger than you in close combat. He had also been paired off with someone else in being separated from you, but he knocked that man down in a matter of seconds and held his sword to the poor man’s face, forcing him to yield so that Jon could watch over you. While you dodged as best as you could, and were far more nimble than your opponent due to the drastic size difference, you could not avoid the sly punch to your stomach that sent you hurtling onto the icy ground.

“WHAT IN THE SEVEN HELLS WAS THAT?!” Jon’s voice was like thunder as he marched over to you, lifting you to your feet and moving you to stand behind him as you clutched at your stomach.

The laugh that Ser Alliser responded with told the two of you that he had instructed the larger man to knock you down whatever the cost, regardless of how dishonorable the tactic.

“Try that again and you won't have hands to land another punch, brother.” Jon threatened the larger man, who could only nod in response, unable to hide the intimidation he felt at being threatened by the one man he knew could knock him down without breaking a sweat.

With that, Jon led you back to the quarters you shared and sat you down on his bed - something you definitely did not fail to acknowledge - crouching down in front of you to look up at you with sorrowful, and still furious, eyes.

“I am so sorry, are you alright?” His voice was so much softer than it had been mere moments ago, and the care with which he spoke to you was enough to make your face feel hot all of a sudden as it nodded at him.

In truth, you had long forgotten about the pain in your stomach that was certainly severe enough to leave a very large bruise, but you would be silly to deny yourself the luxury of Jon Snow doting on you, just a little.

“Anyone tries something like that with you again, I’ll kill them where they stand. And if I’m not there to see it, you come and find me, and they’ll wish they’d never so much as given you a funny look. Understood?” He asked, words firm and promise clear, making the butterflies in your stomach frantic against your bruised skin.

“Understood. Thank you, Jon.” You did not have the capacity to say anymore, all other words lost to you in that moment. It took you several days to recover from the protective oath he swore to you while you sat on his bed that day, nevermind the actual guttural punch.

And then, there was an evening two weeks ago, when Lord Commander Mormont insisted you worked with Sam in the library instead of acting as Jon Snow’s shadow on watch for the 8th time in a row - which was a fair comment, if a little harsh. What you thought would be a peaceful evening spent reading books with a friend, quickly turned into a confessional of some description.

“I am sorry that you’ve been lumped with me tonight, I know you’d rather be…elsewhere.” Sam said gently, his words without prejudice, but his tone hinting that he knew more than he was saying as he took his pile of books to the table and sat down.

From your place at the same table, sat opposite him with just one measly book in your hands, you frowned at him. “Oh, Sam, I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel that I don't want to spend time with you, that’s not true at all! I haven’t spent a lot of time in here, it’ll be a nice change of scene and with lovely company.” You smiled at him, and he returned it, but shook his head.

“No, no, sorry, that is not what I meant. I know that you enjoy my company, as you do Ed and Pyp’s, but…you do not enjoy Jon’s company in the same way.” He tried to hint a little more obviously, and when his words sunk in, your eyes widened. At once, Sam reached over the table to hold your shoulders. “Please, do not panic, I have no judgement to pass and will not tell him!” He was quick to reassure you, allowing you to breathe again as he sat back down in his chair. “I only meant to let you know that I think it is very sweet. We all do, in fact.”

Panic began to set in again. “When you say ‘all’...?”

Sam chuckled. “I mean Ed, Pyp and myself; Jon is completely oblivious, or tries very hard to pretend that he is.”

You sighed in defeat. “So, I have made it that obvious, have I?”

Sam shook his head, smiling knowingly. “No, not just you.”

Immediately, you frowned. “What do you mean, Sam?”

At that, he shook his head, giggling mischievously. “I will say no more about it, it is not for me to say!”

And unfortunately, no matter how much you begged him for the rest of the evening, Samwell Tarly refused to budge, not wanting to interfere on the way in which the events would naturally play out between two of his dear friends, because it was quite honestly the best and only entertainment that the wall had provided thus far.

And then, there was a night last week, when you and Jon were not assigned any tasks and were free to sleep for the night, so retired to your shared quarters with Ghost, who immediately jumped on your bed and sat bolt upright, waiting for you to take your sliver of the bed and allowing him to take the rest. By the time you and Jon had settled in your separate beds in the routinely fashion that came natural to you, you were both prepared for a conversation that would have you each falling asleep with smiles on your faces, as per usual. Except, you could never have anticipated the way in which Jon Snow would begin that conversation, or the topic he was seemingly keen to discuss.

“Have you ever…been with anyone?”

Your eyes widened and you were relieved, as you often were, that Jon could not see your flustered expression in the dark. The question sent such a shockwave through you that the hand combing through Ghost’s fur halted suddenly, causing him to huff until you composed yourself and continued.

“Had sex, you mean?”

Jon cleared his throat awkwardly, apparently equally as bashful. “Well, yes, but not just that.”

The depth to his question did not add further explanation to your answer, and you were more than happy to be brutally honest. “No, on both counts. The person I wanted was unattainable, and will continue to be.”

Jon thought about this for a moment before he spoke up again. “Each time we’ve spoken about those we’ve had feelings for, you’ve only ever referred to a person, not a girl.”

You swallowed nervously. “Yes…”

Jon was almost as quick to reassure you as Sam had been. “I swear, I hold no judgement if you have no interest in girls, and I will not speak of it again if you do not wish me to. I was just curious, is all.”

You trusted Jon to keep your ‘secret’, as layered as it was, but his last words caught you out. “What is it you were curious about?”

Apparently, Jon had not expected you to pick up on his choice of words, as he struggled to form a response. “I…you are the only man that I know of who does not like girls, so I wondered how you found that out, I suppose.”

You smiled, his genuine curiosity endearing. “I think I’ve always known, I was never interested in girls, but there was one boy- or, man, I suppose I should say now, that made me realize what those feelings are, and who I felt them for.”

Jon was clinging to your every word, having never heard information on this topic or this type of feeling before. While he wanted to believe it was the same as feelings for girls, only not for them, in such an unaccepting social environment as Westeros, it was difficult for him to process such a concept. That very innocence led to him asking his next question.

“What do those feelings feel like, for you, as a man, about another man?”

While you could not accurately speak on the experience from a man’s perspective, in truth, you knew enough from what your brother had told you to confirm that those feelings are the same regardless of the gender or orientation, it is merely a lack of knowledge and acceptance that leads to those feelings being less understood, and more secretive. In a way, living as a man had given you some insight on the life your brother has actually led, with his own secret.

“I gather it is much the same as you must feel for girls. When around him, I feel a joy that I can’t describe, one that I wouldn’t know without having met him. He makes me smile until my face aches, makes me feel safe and ridiculously bashful, and to be near him is to know of nothing and nobody else in the world. He was, and is, everything to me. I doubt I’ll ever feel that way for anybody except for him; my heart has been his for too long.” You confessed solemnly.

Time seemed to slow down as you awaited Jon’s response. You are certain it took almost a minute for his voice to cut through the dark.

“I’m sorry…that you feel that way, for someone that you can’t be with.” He sounded disheartened, too, and you logically assumed it was due to the feelings he had for you, that he felt he could not act on.

The conversation faded into quiet goodnights after that, both of your minds spinning with thoughts that you could not tell the other, making for restless slumbers for each of you.

Since that night, Jon has been ever so slightly distant with you. Not enough to cause any real concern, he is still nearby at all times, ensuring your safety, but he has been increasingly awkward around you, as though he’s lost the ability to speak to you as he would previously. The change in him has been apparent enough for the rest of the group to notice, with Sam, Ed and Pyp each taking turns to comfort you when they have seen how worried you have been about him, concerned that you have done something to upset him, and all of them assuring you that you couldn’t possibly, but in truth, none of them knew what he was thinking, either. Jon Snow was a man prone to the odd brood, you knew that; he was the king of sulking even when you were children, but he had never been able to resist you, even in the midst of his worst sulking episodes. Except, now, he doesn’t know that you are you, meaning it is not possible for you to get through to him.

Tonight, events have transcended beyond your ability to cope with them. Jon missed supper, and when you questioned Sam - who had a very obviously nervous expression from the moment he sat down - he broke the news, as gently as he could, that Jon had gone on watch without you. Now, there have been occasions where Jon has done this because you had been asked to do something elsewhere, but this is the first time that he has done this by choice, because he knows that neither of you were scheduled to be on watch tonight. Clearly, something is on his mind, and it is something that has led to him outright avoid you, which simply cannot continue, because you will most definitely die of heartbreak in the most dramatic way you can think of.

Naturally, you were not able to eat after Sam told you the news, and instead retired to your quarters for the night, having nothing better to do than pace the room and tell Ghost that you are alright every few minutes and he continues to whine in response because he can sense that you are the polar opposite. On your way back to this room, you stole an oil lamp, too panicked to care about the potential punishment because you need to see Jon’s face when he eventually comes to rest after being on watch; you need an explanation, and you need to read his face when you are receiving it, to understand exactly what has happened between you.

Fortunately for you, you are pacing for no more than an hour - or, at least, that is your best guess - before there is a gentle knock on the door.

“Come in.” Despite only speaking two words, your voice breaks in your overwhelmed state.

The door opens, and Jon steps into the room you share, but avoids your eyes, and his stance is one of a man uncomfortable to be standing where he is.

“Sam said you were on watch.” You state, no question in your words, but an underlying question of what he’s doing here, based on what you know to be true.

Jon nods. “Sam said you didn’t eat anything at supper.”

You blink rapidly. “You have been subtly distancing yourself from me for the past week, until tonight, when you spontaneously volunteer for an extra shift on watch to avoid me completely, but when Sam tells you that I skipped dinner, you suddenly want to see me?”

Jon winces at your words, having never intended to cause you harm in his actions. In fact, it was quite the opposite. “I’m sorry, I-”

You shake your head, interrupting him. “Please, don’t apologize until you’ve explained. I already know I’ll forgive you, but I need to know what exactly I’m forgiving you for.”

Sensing that this is going to be a long conversation, Ghost sighs and curls up on your bed. Jon, on the other hand, is looking at you in that same way again, replaying your words over and over in his mind, because you care for him so much that you already know you’ll forgive him, regardless of his explanation for his actions and how they have hurt you.

“I have dealt with my feelings awfully, and for that, I must apologize. I just needed time to…understand myself, I suppose. And when I understood, I knew I had to force some distance between us in an effort to undo what was already done, because it is fruitless and will only cause more pain for myself, but in doing so I have caused the worst possible thing: I have hurt you.” Jon shakes his head, ashamed of himself. “You have done nothing to deserve this, so please do not blame yourself, or think I am upset with you, because that could not be further from the truth.”

Feeling relief flood through you and a sense of stability returning to the bond between you, you take a few steps closer to Jon, looking up at him with a soft smile.

“You can tell me anything, but if you are not ready to, then you can take as long as you need. Now that I know you’re not upset with me, I can wait, I promise.”

Jon groans in frustration, lifting his gaze to the ceiling and wiping his face with his hands. “See, that’s exactly what it is.”

You frown. “What is?”

Jon walks away from you then, beginning to pace the room as you had been, but for a very different reason. “You! The kindness you’ve shown me, the sincerity with which you say things, the way you treat me and the way I feel around you - I never thought I would feel these things for anyone else, and that makes it even worse, because I don't want you to think it’s you reminding me of her that’s made me feel this way, but it’s the traits I adored in her that I’ve come to adore in you. And I’ve never felt such a way for a man, but I’ve come to realize that I wouldn’t care if you were a man or a woman or anything else, because what matters to me is who you are. And I love who you are.” He stops pacing, staring into your soul from across the room, reading the shock in your eyes and sighing. “But you have already told me, time and time again, that your heart is with another, and there is nothing I can do. I wouldn’t want to, as I’m sure they are better for you and will treat you the way you deserve.”

“Jon-” You try to interject, but the words are falling from his lips now.

“I know you probably won't see him again, whoever it is, but even loving him from afar is better, he’ll never let you down like I will, like I already have.” His gaze has dropped to the floor, forlorn.

“Jon-” You attempt to cut him off a second time, but he still can't stop himself.

“And I am sorry, for all of it, for my feelings, how I’ve handled them, and how they’ve ruined every moment we’ve had since you arrived.”

“Jon, Gods above, please stop talking!” You plead, a little louder this time, and Jon finally closes his mouth. Taking a deep breath, you laugh lightheartedly, shaking your head in disbelief. “I cannot believe this, truly, but it is no longer fair for me to keep this a secret.”

Jon frowns and meets your eyes, having immediately discarded all thoughts of his own feelings and replaced his concerns with ones for you, the secret you’ve been keeping and if it means something is wrong. “What secret?”

You run your hands through your hair, trying your best to flatten it and make yourself more familiar to him. “Jon…I’m not Darius, I’m (Y/N).”

Something flickers in his eyes then, only for half a second, before his frown intensifies and he shakes his head. “Please, do not joke about such things, not now.”

You sigh. “I’m telling you the truth! And I think, honestly, some part of you already knew, because you haven't called me by my brother’s name once since the day I arrived, you know that name doesn't fit me, because it isn't mine.”

His expression falters, but he is too stubborn to believe you. “Are you mocking me?”

You roll your eyes, determining there is no other way. “Right, that does it!”

With that, you lift your shirt and undershirt, flashing Jon for no more than a second and sending the poor man into a state of shock, before you cover yourself back up. The impact of such a sight sends Jon Snow stumbling backwards until he’s against a wall, with an expression reminiscent of seeing a ghost.

“Seven hells!” He whispers, blinking rapidly as the image replays in his mind, cursing him and blessing him simultaneously.

Unable to stop yourself, you giggle at his dramatics. “It was only a pair of breasts, Jon, please.”

He clears his throat, pulling himself back up, but his palms stay pressed against the wall, acting as a safety net. “Yes, but they were your-”

Stopping himself, the realization dawns on him. Jon Snow just saw your naked chest, meaning you are standing in front of him, and it is you that has been here, sharing watch duty, meals, and a room with him everyday for the past month.

“(Y/N)...” He whispers your name so softly, as though afraid that speaking your name will reveal your true identity as a mirage that will disappear before his very eyes.

Taking one hesitant step towards you, Jon’s palms push him away from the wall, moving so slowly that you wonder if he’ll ever reach you, and then his hand takes ahold of yours. Despite having been shoulder to shoulder countless times, this is the most intimate you have been since the hug that he greeted you with when you arrived, and the contact sends goosebumps across your entire body. Jon Snow’s fingers intertwine with yours, and you smile, eyes glazing over with an adoration that you’ve fought and failed to hide for a month. Bringing your hand up to his face, he presses your hand against his stubbled cheek and sighs deeply, closing his eyes, like he can finally believe that you really are right here, and you aren’t going to vanish into thin air.

“I didn’t lie, y’know, not really.” Your voice is barely there, even in the silence.

Opening his eyes, Jon stares into yours with an unspoken question to elaborate.

“While I tried my best to speak from my brother’s perspective, everything I told you about how I felt was true.” You explain, and if possible, Jon’s expression melts just a little more.

“So, the man who has your heart?” He questions, still a note of nervousness in his words, despite the playful smile on his face.

“Is still clueless that he has it, because I’m having to spell it out to him!” You tease, bringing a hearty laugh from Jon. “My reason for being here rings true, too. I only left out the detail that I snuck onto the cart before my brother could when they came for him, leaving a letter to him to explain; because I had committed the ‘crime’, I felt it was only fair I served the sentence.” You clarify the part of your story that you had missed, thinking nothing of it.

But when Jon’s eyes widen and he drops your hand, you realize that he had completely forgotten where the two of you are standing, and more importantly, where you are.

“Gods, (Y/N), you can't be here! Do you know what some of these men would try to do to you if they found out?!” He starts pacing again, but you’re quick to jump in his path and stop him, placing a hand on his clothed chest.

“I know all too well what those men would try to do, defending myself from such acts is what brought me here.” You remind him, and his firm expression falls, abruptly fixing itself into a frown that is not at all directed at you.

Without thinking, he takes ahold of your face. “I am so sorry I wasn’t there before, but I will never let anyone close enough to harm you ever again, I swear it, by the old Gods and the new.”

At that, you can't help smiling up at him, holding onto his wrists to keep his hands against your face. “I know, and I doubt anyone here will try anything that could bring the wrath of my Jon Snow.”

Your words bring a familiar softness back to him, and he chuckles. “Yours, am I?”

“Of course!” You beam up at him.

The two of you laugh then, at the ridiculousness of it all, the coincidences that have led you to this very moment, with faces mere centimeters apart, hot breath on each other’s faces, gazes darting between each other’s eyes and lips, both asking and answering the same unspoken question. And then, Jon Snow’s lips fall onto yours, and it is better than he has been imagining it could have been since he was a boy. A kiss with you is what shows him the true meaning of being a man, in love with what he thought was another man, but was, in truth, the heart he’d always yearned for, in a disguise that he could not see through with his eyes, but his heart could. Running your fingers through his curls, you sigh against his lips, and Jon wraps his arms around the waist he had somehow not noticed for the past month, fully intending to make up for that lost appreciation henceforth. The butterflies in your stomach spiral until they cannot be contained, and they are flying around the two of you in a magical blur of color, of blissful peace and exhilaration all at once; the most intense feelings you’ve ever known, exchanged and reciprocated simultaneously. Only when he misses the sight of your face too much to continue, does he pull away and rest his forehead against yours, dazed and breathing heavily as you both come to terms with the world that has materialized around you again. Falling into a comfortable silence, you grin at each other, so brightly that your faces ache, but neither of you care at all. A thousand sentiments are sent between your hearts, through your eyes, every thought you’ve been waiting to share and knowing that he feels them, too, but neither of you need to say it, not yet.

That is, until Jon Snow breaks the silence with an adoring, disbelieving laugh.

“Soppy git.”

—————

taglist: @otteropera @neymarjrrwife @oliviabelova

#jon snow #jon snow x reader #jon snow imagine #game of thrones #x reader #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons

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monnn · 1 year

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>Winter Petal✧⁠*

Pairing: non-idol!Wonwoo x gn!reader

Genre: angst, angst and more angst, one-sided love, reader is LOVESICK for Wonu!! >o<”

Warnings: it’s just gonna hurt a lot and doesn't end happily, so read at your own risk(I'm sorry)

WC: 800+

A/N: hi omg. It's been a good while since I wrote anything, so this might seem a bit rusty BUT!!! I honestly don't know how long this fic is gonna be for, but I'll try my best to update it weekly! happy reading, my loves! ♡

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Wonwoo.

The man he was and is right now.

It started when you were in college together. Wonwoo had befriended you and it amused both of you how well the friendship hit off. You guys shared a bond one couldn't define. It was so comfortable to be in each others personal space, without being bothered. What you guys shared even bugged the group of friends you guys hung out with, so much that they whined at Wonwoo not being the same with them. He just shrugged them off saying that everyone bonded in different ways and it was just that. Maybe for him, it really was just that. Not to you though – he was the comfort you found in those turbulent waves at the ocean.

Five years ahead, who knew Wonwoo would be in a relationship you thought that wouldn't last? The gorgeous man is sitting right in front of you, of course with his girlfriend next to him. She looks so giddy and he matches her aura. They're in love, aren't they? you think. But so are you, you're in love with Wonwoo, your best friend.

A few years ago....

Jeonghan had thrown a party to celebrate the graduation of his friends. Barely graduating. It was the 12 of them, you and Wonwoo. While you were drowning in him, Jihoon who was Wonwoo’s closest, had also become your closest through the years of college. He knew about you simping your heart out for Wonwoo and honestly, he was tired. Tired of you not doing anything about it, not making a move on Wonwoo thinking that he'll stay single and you'll eventually confess to him.

Oh, you were so stupid.

Since everyone was getting wasted, Jihoon had suggested that you come clean to Wonwoo about your feelings. You shrugged him off saying that it'll ruin your friendship with Wonu.

Wonu – the only nickname he accepted and only let you call him that, no one else stood a chance.

The party was getting started when you're friends sat down to play a round of seven minutes in heaven. The first pair to leave was Soonyoung and a whiny Seungkwan, making sure not to let them drink instead, as they were already wasted. Next was Mingyu and Jihoon, who chose to get drunk instead (PS: they can hold their alcohol unlike the other few).

Next spin of the bottle pointed to you and Wonwoo. The audience cheered as they knew you had been crushing on Wonwoo pretty hard, but he looked at you, concerned. But his eyes also looked for any hesitation. Without wasting another second, you got up to leave, Wonwoo following you while the crowd got louder by each passing second.

Honestly, you didn't wanna kiss Wonwoo and be a bitch to his relationship. But you couldn't read him in this situation, especially when you both entered the room with Wonwoo locking the door. You feel his eyes burning into your back so you turn around. Wonu’s flushed, meaning he's a bit tipsy. Since the air was getting a bit awkward to exist, you talk.

“So, are we doing this?”

“What do you think? Should we?” he asks like a child, curious to know what you think.

“Well for starters, you're dating, Wonu. I don't wanna be beaten up by your girlfriend” you say with a chuckle.

He looks at you, disappointed.

There’s a moment of loud silence before he says,

“But.....but I want to” he blurts out.

“What?” you ask, to see if he's joking.

“I do want to kiss you. Even though it might ruin my relationship”

You stare at him, afraid to even breathe. Fuck his relationship, you didn't wanna ruin your friendship with him. You’d been such good best friends for so long, you didn't wish to flush that all down like it meant nothing. It was everything – the sole reason why you were here in the room with Wonu and not drinking away your love for him instead.

So you try. Try your best to save this friendship even if it breaks to see Wonu with someone else other than you.

“You're drunk, aren't you?”

“Not enough to be unaware of what I'm asking from you”

“Wonu.....is everything okay? Let's not ruin whatever we have, please?”

“Y/N. You have no clue how long I’ve wanted to kiss you for”

“But you're dating. And we're best friends. It’s not gonna happen big guy, let's just get out when the timer’s up” you say, silence growing louder than ever.

He sighs, pacing around the room and right when you think the time’s up, he has you trapped against the door. You hear a ‘fuck it’ before Wonwoo's lips are on yours. You're kissing Wonwoo, the love of your life but mainly your best friend. He pulls away when he hears the timer ringing, kissing you once more before fixing the both of you and opening the door.

There's a soft smile on his face which you reciprocate, before entering the war zone of drunkards.

Jihoon looks at you, concerned and you look back at him, conveying that you're okay. He nods softly in agreement and gets back to drinking.

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A/N: Here's the update, part-2 is here! have a good day babies! ♡

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snowbellewells · 7 months

Text

"Carolina Moon" update {Chapter Two}

Hello Friends! Here we are at last with the next chapter of my @cssns23 fic!! I sincerely never meant to keep everyone waiting so long; real life got really hectic there for a bit, and I had to focus on the job that pays the bills in the few hours that were left over! Anyway, I hope that you'll forgive me and enjoy this update. If it's any sort of consolation, it nearly doubles the length of the story so far...

Also, this story is now moving into M-rated territory. After talking with a few fandom friends and readers, this seems like the way to go to be on the safe side and let everyone know what they're reading upfront. I don't know that I find my love scenes half as spicy as others I've read, but there is one for sure in this chapter, and it will not be the last before all is said and done. I hope that doesn't turn anyone away from reading, but I would rather someone know before starting than be bothered by it after the fact.

**As always, thank you SO MUCH to @eastwesthomeisbest for this beautiful cover art to go along with the story, and to @xarandomdreamx for her thoughtful beta reading comments, suggestions, and encouragement.**

Can be read from the beginning HERE on Tumblr or HERE on AO3

Summary: Emma Swan has returned to the town she grew up in, and the past that has haunted her no matter where she has run. She seeks answers and peace at last. Despite the years that have passed, some things haven't changed very much in Storybrooke, South Carolina, and one of those things is Killian Jones. He never forgot the gangly girl with the world on her shoulders and pain in her eyes, but will he finally be able to slip past her defenses and help her find the answers she seeks?

Chapter Two: Secrets Beneath the Surface

By the time Killian got back home to the family home that afternoon, he could already hear their housekeeper Johanna scolding Ruby from the kitchen, as soon as he crossed the threshold. “Well, what else was you expectin’ Miss Sassy Britches, sashayin’ all over town the way you do? Didja think that would make you a lot of friends ‘mongst the other young ladies?”

Killian kicked off his shoes in the mud room, well aware that the older woman who had practically raised he and Ruby - more so than either of their parents had done - would turn on him next if he tracked up her clean floors. Making his way quietly along the well-worn path to the kitchen at the back of the house, he could practically hear his sister huff and sputter indignantly at Johanna’s rebuke and picture all too well the way she’d roll her eyes and pout, before grumpily going to Johanna’s side and taking up whatever chore the woman had no doubt bid her to help with before their little spat had begun.

It was a rhythm as old as Killian could remember, since almost the first afternoon Johanna Bishop had appeared in their kitchen - cooking, cleaning, puttering and tending to all the essential but seemingly unworthy, household chores his mother simply couldn’t be bothered with. If - as the Jones children had grown - those chores also came to include bandaging scraped knees, soothing hurt feelings, listening to whispered wishes, and cuddling and correcting where needed, well, that had fallen naturally under her purview as well. Even more so when the three children had become just two.

Stopping in the open doorway, Killian leaned against the jamb for a moment, trying to keep his chuckling to himself as he watched his tall, leggy sibling with brilliant red streaks running through her dark hair frowning in deep concentration next to the short, rather round Johanna, trying diligently to match the rosy-cheeked, twinkling-eyed matron’s deft and graceful speed at coring and slicing apples, and failing miserably. He must have made some involuntary noise, however, because both women looked up at him in surprise.

Johanna’s bright eyes smiled at him as her cheeks crinkled with the welcoming grin he could always look forward to, no matter how long he had been gone, whenever he returned. Ruby stuck her tongue out at him when he smirked at her efforts, arching an eyebrow as if to question what in the world she was trying to do.

“Oh? Think you can do better, do you?” she challenged, flipping a discarded peel his way, before Johanna hushed her, not about to have food flying on her watch, just before Mrs. Jones’ formal dinner was expected in the dining room; as formally as it had been expected every night for years.

They all quieted for a moment at that remembrance, none of them necessarily wanting to summon the lady of the house any sooner than necessary - though that feeling went unspoken. Johanna’s nimble fingers flew over her task, the knife flashing with ease, and Killian noticed that Ruby’s movements gained confidence as well the longer she worked at it.

Giving a bit of a playful bow in flirtatious chivalry, he greeted them with, “How can I help, Miss Johanna?” and his most charming grin.

“Oh Sugar,” she demurred, “you don’t need to do nothin’ but pull up a chair and tell me ‘bout your day. Things are almost ready in here.”

Pausing to put a hand on her hip, Ruby mock glared at him, before turning to the older woman in challenge. “And why are you always nagging me, and then turning around and acting just sweet as sugar to Killian? I suppose he’s your favorite now, too?”

Ruby’s question was largely put-on sass, that melted into an unconvinced, “Uh huh, sure,” when Johanna blithely assured her that “Sweetness is as sweetness does.” All the same, Killian could see the doubt underneath her churlishness, and the longing in his sister’s expression, not wanting this one person she depended on, no matter how much they snipe at each other, to dismiss her as everyone else did. Honestly, Killian thought to himself with a guilty pang, he had written her off and disregarded her many times himself over the years. He hadn’t done it to be cruel, more out of his own survival instincts and desire to avoid conflict. Where he had withdrawn into his own thoughts, focused on achieving goals, meeting the standards set for him, making up for what had been lost, even if he ran himself ragged in the attempt, Ruby had instead completely cut herself free from all boundaries and expectations, going wild, or at least appearing so to the untrained eye. The moment she had gotten the chance, she’d fled Storybrooke on the back of her boyfriend’s Harley - eloping and not returning to Storybrooke until she had seen her fill of everywhere else. She played at nonchalance - as if nothing bothered her or could even penetrate the perfectly painted-on armor their mother had taught her to apply so well long ago.

She hadn’t really been back home that long, but Killian found himself wanting to get to know Ruby all over again, to bridge the gap that had grown between them over the years while they each attempted to weather the hurt and neglect in their own ways. The simplest method for doing that seemed to be in joining the easy banter between Ruby and Johanna, so he waggled both eyebrows at her, both in playful challenge and as an annoyance to his ‘little’ sister, then he circled the island easily to pull Johanna into a side-hug and plant a smacking kiss on the older woman’s cheek before nettling Ruby with, “Hear that? I’m sweetness itself. Maybe you should try a little sweetness sometimes and see how far it gets you.”

Johanna’s softly weathered cheeks crinkled with well-worn laugh lines, even as she rolled her eyes and shooed him away - but not before he snatched a sugar and cinnamon-dusted slice of apple from the pie crust she was crimping, causing Ruby’s eyes to narrow at him further in playful indignation. “You just hush now with all that, Killian Jones,” their housekeeper scolded. “Your sister has more than enough sweetness to share when she takes the notion - you just don’t give her any more reasons to be sour.” And though the woman who had been with their family for as long as Killian could remember, imbuing their kitchen with a warmth and comfort that the rest of the pristine, stately old home notably lacked, was warning him with her words, she also winked at him slyly - letting him know that she was glad he’d joined their fun, and that she was still nettling Ruby a bit herself.

Shaking out her mane of dark hair with a dramatic flounce, and planting her red-lacquer nailed hands on her hips, Ruby fixed them both with a fiery look. “Just the two of you know, plenty of people find me a delight to be around. Maybe I should take myself off somewhere I’m appreciated.” Turning on her heel with all the precision and purpose of a high fashion runway model rather than the demure Southern debutante their mother had hoped for, she stalked toward the doorway which led from the kitchen back into the hall, only to turn around before she left with a retort on her tongue when Johanna called after her.

“You tell that nice Dr. Hunter hello for me, Ruby Jean. You should bring him round here for a nice, home cooked meal sometime. That sweet young man needs a little meat on his bones.”

“But - I didn’t - why do you think- ?” Ruby spluttered indignantly, never finishing any of the attempted comebacks and finally just snapping her mouth closed and shaking her head with vigorous agitation.

Killian would have been laughing at her plight if he hadn’t been so wide-eyed and flummoxed himself by their housekeeper’s words. Oh, he’d known alright that his best friend since grade school had been nursing a painfully awkward silent crush on his remaining sibling, pretty much since puberty. What he’d never realized or noticed as Ruby had chewed up and spit out a first husband and teased and strung along countless other men since, was that maybe she was aware of Graham’s feelings - possibly even returned them.

“And you,” she turned from squinting at Johanna as if sizing her up to point an accusing finger at Killian, “don’t just think you can come in here and take over the one room in this place where I can actually breathe, just because you’re the family’s perfect prince and entitled to whatever you want.”

Killian jerked back at the sharp edge to her voice until he looked for a moment at the tensed pain of her features behind the dangerously flashing brown eyes. She was hurting - aching, in fact - at the idea that her one ally in her own home might also turn to the heir, her big brother, as well.

He had always known she snapped and hissed partly out of pain; he felt it too. They all did. He missed Rose awfully - more than he would have ever imagined - but to have shared the womb with her? To have been joined with her from birth and then suddenly find her gone? He couldn’t imagine that. And maybe he hadn’t really wanted to see just how much turmoil hid beneath his sister’s vexing habit of picking fights and pretending he drove her crazy, or how much loneliness was painted over with her vivacious bombshell facade. At any rate, he didn’t pick an angle and fight back at her as he normally would have, instead he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, giving a slight dip of the chin and a tentative smile. “Aye, Ru… Well do I know you and Johanna are the undisputed queens of this domain. I only wanted to join you for a moment.”

She huffed as if not knowing quite what to make of his earnest admission, then with a shrug of her shoulders and one more toss of her head, she merely replied, “Whatever you say,” and was gone. But he hadn’t missed that small half smile tilting up one corner of her mouth, or the spark of hope in her eyes. Maybe they weren’t as far removed from each other as he had feared.

Johanna turned and tilted her head up to look at him knowingly before patting him on the cheek and affirming, “You’re a good boy, Killian. You always have been. And you’ve grown into a fine man. Just don’t you give up on that sassy sister of yours, you hear? She needs us more than she’d like to own. Much like Miss Emma, I’ll wager.”

Killian smiled at the older woman warmly before nodding in agreement and scoffing lightly at her uncanny prediction, knowing she had him there and he couldn’t even argue. “You’ve always seen a lot more than we realize, haven’t you?”

She was the one to wink knowingly at him this time. “You’d better believe it,” she retorted. “That’s part of my charm.”

Chuckling and shaking his head, Killian wasn’t about to challenge her.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Not half an hour later, at Hunter Veterinary Clinic on the outskirts of town, Graham was closing up for the evening when he heard the bell on the door jangle, signaling someone’s arrival. He was puttering around in the back, making sure that the surgery was cleaned and sterilized for the following morning, and that the mother golden retriever and her unexpected litter of mixed breed pups he’d delivered in a tense, last minute c-section that afternoon were settled in the kennel area for the night, and he had been certain they (he and the dogs) were the only ones still there. He knew that Grace, his summer assistant while she was home from college, was normally careful to be sure the sign was off and the door closed and locked when she left, but maybe she’d forgotten something.

“I’m in back!” he called out distractedly, still running over his mental checklist of closing chores to accomplish as he awaited an answer. “But we’re closed for the evening. Is this an emergenc– “

The door from the waiting room and lobby swung open while he was still speaking, only to reveal a vision that made him choke on the end of his words and nearly swallow his own tongue as well. Graham knew he had flushed all over almost instantaneously at the sight before him, a sweat that was part embarrassment and part lustful attraction breaking out across his skin. His eyes were wide as he shook his head in stunned disbelief, drinking in the temptation of Ruby Jones posing seductively where she leaned against the doorframe and watched him knowingly.

When several silent moments had ticked by, the heat and tension in the room between them only climbing higher, Ruby finally quirked a dark, artfully sculpted brow and smirked at him, those full red lips glistening in a lure so effective Graham could think of nothing but grabbing her, pulling her close, and capturing them with his own until his need was sated. And she knew it too - she always had. Pushing off from the wall and slinking toward him purposefully on blood red kitten heels, she began to unknot the belt of the trench coat cinched at her waist as she fairly purred her response. “Well, you see, Doctor Hunter, it is an emergency. I’m burning up with fever - one only you can break.”

By then, she stood directly in front of him, where he had backed up against the stainless steel surgical table and was clenching and releasing his hands into tight fists, straining mightily to keep himself from grabbing her and clutching much too tightly. Ruby Jones was nothing if not untamed; a wild bird that ventured close, playfully allowing the observer to think he could hold her. But he knew she would flit off and leave him behind again if he made the wrong move. Instead, Graham watched her intently, muscle working in his jaw as her graceful fingers danced across his chest and shoulders, tracing over muscle and skin, inflaming him with her touch as she went. Tilting her head to one side, Ruby shamelessly licked her lip before grinning broadly. “What’s the matter, Hunter? Cat got your tongue?” She snorted at her own little joke. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Bringing her hands to the lapels of the coat she wore, now loosened and unbelted, Ruby parted the fabric on either side and allowed the garment to fall to the floor at their feet. Pleased amusement flooded her veins at Graham’s bulging eyes and gaping mouth. Completely bare beneath the thin jacket, she’d felt a thrill running through her since leaving the house in search of him, and the power sizzling along her nerve endings, where she usually felt as though she were careening out of control, was genuinely intoxicating.

Poor Graham couldn’t seem to move and managed only to hoarsely croak out, “Ruby, w-what are you…? Someone could… could walk in here and see… This is a place of business! You can’t just…” He swallowed hard, and her eyes tracked the reflexive movement of his Adam’s apple with ravenous intent.

“Are you sure about that, Doc?” she teased seductively, clicking the ‘c’ with her tongue exaggeratedly, despite his eyes already being glued to her lips - and every other part of her on display before him. Voice low and throaty, cajoling him to take what he very clearly wanted - what she wanted too - she added, “I’m pretty sure I can actually. I’m standing right here waiting. What are you going to do about it?”

His handsome face reflected his inner conflict for several long moments, and Ruby fought not to hold her breath in worried anticipation. She didn’t care that much if he accepted her offer, she tried to tell herself, but deep down she was well aware of how much of a lie that was. Brow furrowed, Graham struggled to resist her manfully, but it was a lost battle even before he began. He had never been able to deny her; they both knew it, and today would not be any different. At last, with a growl of mingled frustration and lust, he lurched forward, his dexterous, long-fingered hands gripped her hips and pulled them into his own roughly before practically devouring her mouth with an almost maddened groan of arousal.

Sinking into his clutches, Ruby thrilled at his loss of control, all synapses firing and the blood boiling in her arteries as he finally gave her exactly what she wanted. Clinging to his bicep to stay upright as her knees went weak, Ruby plunged her other hand into his hair, mussing the honey-coloured curls he’d never outgrown between her fingers and pulling them tightly in response to his ardent desire and how he was further igniting her own.

Desperate by then, Graham was long past caring who might have seen her walk in past closing, what small town rumors might get started, whether or not Ruby was simply using him again to have a little fun and forget the past that nipped at her heels, and how he knew it would chip away another small piece of his soul when they finished and she wouldn’t stay in his arms. Whirling to push her back against the exam table in the center of the room, earning him an enthusiastic moan from deep in Ruby’s throat, even muffled by his own lips over hers. Sweeping a hand over the cool, hard surface with reckless abandon, Graham cleared it to easily lift her onto the tabletop and soon had her spread out on it, frantically working to strip out of his lab coat and remove his shirt, even as her grasping hands fumbled for the button and zipper of of his pants to free him to her touch.

Writhing against him, Ruby grinned up at him wolfishly, her cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling, every bit the goddess he’d never been able to deny a thing: the dessert from his sack lunch, the use of his first car, and every inch of his body and corner of his heart. She wrapped her long legs around his trim hips, demandingly pulling him closer still, before he thrust forward and finally sunk into her willing body, welcomed home once more.

Leaning over her as he moved, Graham captured her nipple between his teeth, his scruff abrading the sensitive skin around it as he did and stealing her breath when he bit down just at the edge of too much. He captured both her hands, twining their fingers together and pressing them to the steel surface on either side of her head. Setting the rhythm they both craved, feeling the rightness of what he had missed echoing through his body as they moved together, Graham forced himself to take the moment he had; enjoy it, love her enough so that she would feel it, despite refusing to see what they could have always, and not let himself think of what came after.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Killian had just left the kitchen, still contemplating his relationship with his sister and the things Johanna had told him, when he was brought up short by the regal, silent appearance of his mother, Cora Jones, the once-belle of Storybrooke, in the hall nearby, studying him with an icy assessment which made him feel distinctly like she had heard all they had said and could read his mind beside. Forcing himself not to startle or recoil physically like some teenager caught sneaking out past curfew (he had actually never been caught at that in his youth, though by the time he’d had a license and places to run, the dangers parents fear for their children at night had long since struck and the damage been done) Killian gave his mother a nod of respectful deference, smiling at her carefully and waited, knowing there must be something she intended to say.

Cora’s bearing was still poised and correct, standing straight enough to appear taller than her actual height, her chin tilted rather haughtily. Even in the comfort of her own home, before no one but her eldest child, her skirt and jacket ensemble was impeccably tailored and she had not a hair out of place, her makeup flawless. Her eyes had lost none of their shrewdness as she moved nearer to her golden years. And Killian couldn’t help wondering with a blend of bitter sadness if she would allow anything about them to be golden or fulfilling. His mother retained all of the clout and reputation she had held in her prime, but her sharp edges had only grown harder and more jagged with the loss of, first her favored child, and then her husband, to his own grief and poor choices.

He was right of course. A moment later Cora’s clear, measured voice reached his ears with unmistakable authority; as always, she meant what she said and expected to be obeyed. Though his mother had never been especially warm or effusive, Killian had always known she was pleased with him, proud that he was living up to the Jones family name as she saw fit. Things he really had no power or control over - his natural good looks, athleticism, intellect, and so on - were only to be expected, and so, when he excelled in school, made the papers and the Homecoming court, and earned a college scholarship, or when the other mothers in her social circle all enviously wanted their daughters to catch his eye, well then Killian was merely behaving as he ought and garnering just the sort of attention she had hoped he would. He had grown up following in his father’s footsteps, learning all he could about running their small shipping business and how to manage all that would one day be his.

Killian had never rebelled or railed against the expectations, the assumption that he would blindly follow along on the path laid out for him, until recently. He had made several changes to modernize and streamline the business - almost two years ago now - and things had been tense between he and his mother as a result. Cora did not welcome change in any arena, not unless it was on her orders, and though she deeply resented her husband’s gradual decline and eventual abandonment at his death, she did not see why Killian needed to upgrade what had always worked well for Brennan. She had gone as far as threatening to withdraw her shares from the operation until Killian’s changes had doubled - then tripled - their profits, word of mouth bringing in a steady stream of new clients and renewed raves from established ones at their company’s efficiency and success. There was no arguing with such hard evidence, and so Cora had grudgingly relented, but she had not forgotten.

However, even at a glance, Killian could see that the bone she meant to pick with him would not be resolved with patience and time. He gritted his teeth against offering a harsh warning for her to save her breath. He knew before she spoke a word what she wanted to discuss, but this time she would find him every bit as unyielding as she was herself.

Without further preamble, Cora leveled her accusation. “You’re renting that cabin on the marsh to her, aren’t you? Despite what she’s done, and knowing how it would displease me, you’ve let that Swan girl waltz right back into our lives and invited her to make herself at home. I simply cannot understand it, Killian.” Her words were clipped out distinctly, but as cold and pointed as chips of ice. “Do you not remember what associating with the likes of her cost your sister? Or are you looking for a reason to spite me? I hardly think I have done anything to merit such hurtful defiance.”

She waited, seeming to have all the time in the world for her son’s reply, but Killian was still tempted to stare back, challenging her silently, waiting to speak until he discovered whether the pristine veneer she presented to her family right along with the rest of the world would crack and show some human feeling underneath. In the end though, Killian couldn’t hold out forever; she was still his mother, and despite his frustration, the manners she had pressed into him from birth would not allow it. Not only that, but he knew what she had suffered, the pain and loss she had endured - just as he had. It might have made her brittle and untouchable, but he always had the hope somehow that things might thaw between them yet.

With a sigh, he released the answer on a low breath, still meeting her eyes to let her know both his resolve and that he was hardly ashamed of his choices. “You clearly already know that I am, Mother. Though you might not believe this, it was not a decision made to hurt anyone - least of all you. Emma Swan is moving back into town. She needed a place to stay, and ours was available to rent. Honestly, I was glad to have it, to do something to help her out after how horribly we treated her years ago.”

He meant every word, but, as he had expected, her eyes widened with indignance, her voice finally losing its polished control. “What we did to her?!” Cora Jones spluttered, clearly appalled and faintly trembling in her righteous anger. “It was she who took our sweet angel from us. If we had kept Rose away from her… If she hadn’t crept out to meet that vagabond child…. Rose would still be here!”

Killian had heard this argument many times, yet the unfairness of it never ceased to stoke his own temper. Fighting to remain calm, he tried to reason with his mother, to speak in a tone that still remained civil - tightly wound as it was and on the knife’s edge of tipping over. “You know as well as I do that Ms. Swan is not Rose’s killer. There was never any chance of that. She was thirteen years old, still a child just like Rose, and Rose was her only friend in the world. She was as devastated as we were.”

Cora could not have appeared any more injured or insulted if he had drawn back his hand to strike her. “No one has suffered as we have,” she hissed, eyes flashing dangerously, “certainly not that little she-devil! How dare you even suggest it?” She took a seething step closer, appearing as taken by emotion as Killian had seen her through the smooth, proper mask in years. “You mark my words, Killian,” she continued distinctly, eyes boring into him like pinpricks through his skin, “you may have control of this family’s land, the business, all the executive decisions your father left to you as intended, but I do not condone you allowing that woman to live on our property. Not even for a second, do you hear me? There is something not right about her - always has been - and you will live to regret letting her back into our world. Rose must be rolling over in her grave at the very thought - “

Flinching away so abruptly that his mother’s words were cut off and they both stood, breathing harshly in the horrible silence, Killian finally shook his head sadly and broke eye contact. He turned to leave, at last seeing with regrettable finality that Cora Jones would never change her mind, not for anyone or anything, no matter how much time passed. At the door, he looked back at her, his eyes betraying the strange mix of pity and bitterness she had stirred up in him anew. “You’re the one who should feel regret. Rose was good and kind, the best of us all. It would break her heart to know you’ve spent all these years holding a grudge and nurturing hatred against the person she considered another sister. I am finally thinking about what Rose would have wanted. Then maybe we can all let her rest in peace.”

That final admonition voiced, Killian was out the door in the next instant, letting it slam behind him exactly as he had been reprimanded against all his life. Even as one part of him cringed, he also felt a thrill of petty satisfaction too, knowing it made Cora crazy for such noisy outward shows of temper and bad breeding to be on display. Hurrying down the wide front steps to his truck, Killian gripped his keys in hand tightly, not at all sure where he was going, only that any place seemed preferable at that moment.

His cell went off, just as he reached the driver’s side door. Fishing it out as he settled into his seat, Killian pulled the door closed behind him and answered to find Graham on the other end of the line. Too relieved to turn his energy to something - anything - else but the argument he had left behind, Killian didn’t dwell long on why Graham sounded out of breath, cagey, and awkward as he explained how he had planned to meet Emma at the end of the work day, take her to dinner, and then go with her out to the cabin and help her make sure she at least had enough unpacking done to settle in there for the night. It turned out something had come up, and would Killian mind going to meet Emma instead?

While a part of him wasn’t at all sure how fond Emma would be of the development, he couldn’t deny the way his insides leapt at the opportunity to see Emma Swan again and spend some more time with her. Especially if it kept him away from the lit powder keg his home had just become.

“Not sure how Emma’s going to feel about that,” Killian quipped to his buddy lightly, “but I’ll do it. I’m heading her way right now.”

Graham’s relieved thanks made Killian smile as they said goodbye, wondering vaguely what had his friend all tangled up in knots, but he couldn’t dwell on it long. What almost felt like happy anticipation was creeping up on him, and whatever else might be pressing on him, Killian was simply glad to have an excuse to be near Emma Swan.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

Some three hours later, Killian’s arms and back ached from lifting heavy boxes and moving them around to various counters and display tables for unpacking, his cheeks ached from grinning and laughing like he hadn’t done in ages, and he knew his eyes must look a bit dazed, mesmerized in Emma’s presence as she breathed some sort of magic into the air around her and onto him, bringing the previously empty and nondescript space to life. She didn’t seem to keep much of the warmth and humor for herself, however, Killian noted painfully, but it was easily felt standing next to her, and his fingers itched to grasp her, to pull her in and hold her tight, give back to her some of the warmth he had felt since he’d walked into her new little shop - particularly welcome after the chill of his encounters with his own family just before he’d arrived.

Thankfully, Emma hadn’t seemed averse to his visit and offer of help, to be followed by dinner in his friend’s stead. She was possibly a little hesitant and uncertain of why he wanted to help out and spend time with her, but it did his conscience good to see that she seemed willing to at least see how the evening went.

After the initial bit of awkwardness upon his arrival, Killian had assured Emma that she should put him to work. Once she had done so, they’d had their hands full and the conversation had begun to flow between them. She was incredibly knowledgeable - not that Killian was surprised, she had always been smart and eager to learn, one of many things she and Rose had shared in common - but he’d never been able to hear her really speak unabashedly about something she loved. Not only did she have an engaging and eclectic collection of art and photography by several known artists, but she also had numerous pieces of her own photography available for purchase as well. When Emma began talking about how she had captured some of the shots, and what she hoped they conveyed, Killian simply couldn’t look away from her features that had come to life with enthusiasm, her eyes alight. It was enchanting; he could think of no other word for it. His lips curved upward irresistibly, without his really even noticing it until she paused, cocking her head curiously before asking, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Startling from the reverie he’d slipped into on the rise and fall of her words, Killian smiled back at her, shaking his head slowly in amazement. “Just marveling at you, honestly. You’re brilliant, Emma.”

“Hardly,” she retorted, making a dismissive noise and waving off his praise, though the pleased blush on her cheeks unmistakably belied her words.

“No, truly… You’ve got a real gift.”

Emma shrugged noncommittally, but didn’t argue with him further, instead she merely studied the photograph on the countertop in front of her, matted but still in need of framing. A wry, wistful tone slipped into her voice as she spoke then, more quietly than she had before, “Well, that’s at least one instance when my added sight is a pleasant benefit.”

Killian’s eyes widened, his attention even more fully captured than it had been, curious as to what she might say next. Emma rarely - if ever - offered to comment on her visions and the things she knew because of them voluntarily. He bit his lip to keep from speaking, from verbally nudging her to continue. Instead he watched, waiting hopefully, breath held, for her to do so if she chose.

Looking up, Emma caught his eyes, but the soul-searching expression pierced right through his chest. “It’s as if the person or animal or place in front of the camera tells me the story it wants to share.” Shaking her head helplessly after that admission, she chuckled at herself before adding, “Yeah, I know that sounds completely crazy.”

“Not at all, Swan,” he breathes, the nickname sliding from his lips naturally and without thought, neither of them reacting to it - almost as if he had never called her anything else. “It’s just like I said… amazing.”

For several minutes, no more words were spoken, the quiet stretching comfortably between them as the shadows of evening lengthened outside the big front window. It was nearly seven-thirty, well past time for dinner, and they both laughed when his stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the spell between them. “What say you, Swan? Time to find some sustenance?”

Eyes glimmering with a mysterious sort of humor, she hedged, “Would you be willing to take a rain check? It’s been a packed couple of days, and I’m hoping to open in a couple more. I’m exhausted, and really just need to make it an early night.”

Considering her words for a moment, Killian studied her before acquiescing, hoping she wasn’t putting him off when it felt like they’d gotten so much closer over the course of the evening. “Fair enough,” he assented before playfully adding, “but I’ll hold you to that rain check. Unless you’re afraid of finding me even more irresistible after a few libations.” He waggled his heavy dark brows at her devilishly until Emma was laughing out loud at his antics.

Only a few minutes later they were ready to go, Emma locking the door of her shop behind them and Killian following her gallantly to her VW. Turning to look up at him where they stood facing each other on the sidewalk, Emma added, “I really would be glad to go to dinner another time, Killian. It’s been a nice evening, and - to be blunt - I could use a few friends. Just so we’re clear that’s all it is.”

Killian felt a tightening in his chest at her proclamation, disappointment clenching in his gut and alerting him that he had already allowed himself to want so much more. “You’ve already decided that, have you?” he responded, fighting to keep his voice light.

She held his gaze, expression mournful, knowing, and more than a little haunted. “It’s for the best really. Trust me on that. You don’t want to get too close to me. Eventually, I’m too much for anyone to deal with. It gets messy. I’m just sparing us both a lot of hurt in the long run.”

He hummed low in his throat, the deep vibration of the sound almost physically palpable to her as he leaned closer, gauging her reaction with a knowing glimmer in his eye. “You say that now, Swan. And that’s fine, I can be incredibly patient. But I see that there could be so much more between us.”

“Do you indeed?” she queried in an equally teasing measure, his response allowing her to drop the wary seriousness she had spoken with before and banter back with him in return, almost irresistibly.

“Have a gander for yourself if you doubt me,” he offered, holding her gaze, an open expression seeming to lay himself bare before her. “I am an open book to you… just as you are to me.”

Emma caught her breath, helpless but to stare back into his eyes as he asked. Guard down, walls lowered, there was a flash behind her eyes of bare limbs moving in unison, heavy pants of exertion, whispered endearments in a familiar timbre, and a shattered cry of completion in a voice sounding much like her own.

Blinking free and pulling away with a gasp, she knew what she’d seen, and flushed from the roots of her hair outward. “What was that?” she whispered, almost to herself, even as she knew exactly what she had witnessed. Never had she experienced such a glimpse of something so pleasurable it left her quivering with unquenched need.

“I think you know,” Killian replied with a roguish smirk, though his voice was gentle, almost hiding the slight hurt that swam in the crystal blue of his eyes at the distance she still tried to keep between them. “Possibly the dessert we could enjoy if you let a nice dinner for us progress to its natural conclusion?”

Nodding, she regained her equilibrium at last and reached out to pat him on the shoulder with a sort of playful camaraderie. “Hmm… well, maybe you’d better keep those thoughts to yourself for now,” she taunted. Still, as she settled into the driver’s seat and waved to him while backing away from the curb and pulling onto the street, Killian could see a deep and fragile longing behind her practical nonchalance. She wanted, just as he did; that closeness and heat and belonging, but she wouldn’t allow it for herself. She didn’t trust that anything good could last - and why would she, after all that she had survived already? Possibly she had waited so long to be loved, to feel wanted, that when it was placed before her, she denied what was being offered. While that might have worked for most, he wasn’t going to stay at a careful distance. Not when he could see the loneliness and yearning in her, as clearly as he could see it in his own mirror each morning. He would keep coming back, closer and closer each time, until maybe they could both find what they had been living without for so long.

Tagging: @cssns @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @stahlop @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @bluewildcatfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @eastwesthomeisbest @xarandomdreamx @sotangledupinit @justanother-unluckysoul @booksteaandtoomuchtv @kazoosandfannypacks @anmylica @motherkatereloyshipper @jonesfandomfanatic @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @xsajx @lfh1226-linda @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke @drowned-dreamer @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @blackwidownat2814 @blowmiakisscolin @let-it-raines @bdevereaux @caught-in-the-filter

#cssns23 #cs au mc #cs ff #carolina moon #chapter two

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joeyquinndrabz · 1 year

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Will it be like this forever?- Joseph Quinn X Reader

TW: n/a just pure fluff ladies and gents n as we know by now, no proof reading because it’s 00:18 and I have work at 5am so goodnight everyone 🥲

AN: massive thank you for all the love you’ve shown towards my last fic it’s very appreciated and I’ve enjoyed speaking to so many of you and getting to know you guys it’s been beautiful so thank you again <3

I listened to j’s lullaby (darlin’ id wait for you) when I wrote this xo

“Want one?” Joe offered as he opened a new packet of cigarettes that Wes had managed to convince the shopkeeper to let him buy. It was GCSE leavers day and you guys had taken it to the limits. As soon as the school bell rang you were out in Hyde Park with a massive group of fellow students, drinking and celebrating the end of school. Although you were excited for your new adventure into adulthood, it also terrified you. All the people around you were a part of your day to day routine and the thought of them no longer being apart of your daily routine was scary and daunting to say the least.

“Yes please.” You accepted with a sigh as you perched yourself against a tree that was perfectly positioned to give you a view of everyone and their antics. There was a group of girls you shared an English class with, attempting to sing ABBA’s ‘dancing queen’ but failing miserably. Further down sat Wes and a couple of the lads Joseph hung around with, opening a new crate of beer and passing around a badly rolled joint. And then there was Joseph and yourself, you’d both gone on a wander to share some time to yourselves. Fully aware that leaving school was a massive change, you couldn’t help but mourn the loss of these people even though they were right in-front of you. It was a bittersweet moment.

“What’s wrong baby?” He asked as he joined you against the tree, passing you a cigarette. “Just thinking.” You replied, still staring out in front of you. Joe could see the cogs moving in your head as your eyes drifted from group to group, taking it all in whilst it was still there. He didn’t want to interrupt your thoughts so he opted for silence as he passed you his lighter, courtesy of the science department and their unattended office. You lit your cigarette, inhaled and turned to face Joseph as you exhaled. He was already looking at you, deep in thought himself.

Leaving school terrified you already, but you were more worried about your relationship with Joseph and whether or not it would survive the real ‘adult’ world. You’d met in year 7, you’d always had a crush on him from your first day. Although, it wasn’t until year 9 that Joe had plucked up the courage to ask you if you’d like to come round his for dinner. At the time, you’d assumed he meant it purely platonically. The pair of you had walked home together everyday since year 7 so it appeared you guys were just good friends. But, when he confessed his little crush on you in his bedroom after a partial popcorn fight, you quickly let him know you felt the same. Come year 11, you were still together and we’re deemed the ‘parents’ of the group. Nothing came between you. No one, nothing and you were dreading the day it came to an end. He’s all you’d ever known and doing this ‘adult’ thing without him was enough to make you lock yourself in your room and avoid it forever.

“Is this it?” The sadness in your eyes hadn’t gone unnoticed by the boy in front of you as you asked the dreaded question you’d been avoiding.

“What do you mean by that sweetheart?” Joseph questioned you as he took a drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke away from you before he leant up to move some hair from your face. Your eyes fell to your lap, too scared to continue the conversation incase your fears became a reality. “Talk to me love.” His thumb now grazed your cheek as he leant down to try and hold eye contact with you, something you were making incredibly hard.

“I’m scared this, us I mean, is going to change.” You admitted whilst biting your lip and slowly lifting your head to meet Joseph’s furrowed brow. “What makes you think that?” Still grazing your face with his thumb. “You’re going to acting school and I’m going to sixth form. What if you meet someone else and I hold you back? Or what if I’m not as interesting outside of school? Or what if-“ Joe was quick to shut down your thoughts as he stubbed out his cigarette and held your head in both hands. “Hey,hey,hey. For starters, Im going to meet a lot of people and so will you. But none of them, and I mean none of them will ever make me feel the way you do and you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met. I love you, and I’ll always love you. Only you. I know we’re young, and it scares me too. But this, me and you, this isn’t going anywhere and you have my word on that. Nothing in the world will ever give me as much joy and happiness as being with you. I’ll never get tired of you angel.”

His words had definitely silenced you and any doubts you had, he’d confessed his love for you like you were the most important thing in the world to him. You didn’t want to be away from him, not now and not ever. “I think you’re my soulmate Y/F/N.” Joseph giggled and you soon mirrored him. “I sure do hope so because I am truly, madly in love with you Joseph.” And with that he leant in for a kiss, a delicate one that spoke all the words of reassurance you’d ever needed. Being in the arms of Joe was your greatest comfort and having him hold you into this new lease of life was just what you needed.

“Will it always be like this?” You asked as you leant against him, gazing out again but this time with a content smile on your face. “As long as my hearts beating sweetheart, as long as it’s beating.” He held you close and kissed your head, lingering whilst you squeezed him tightly.

“Hello angel.” Joseph beamed as you stepped into your apartment, shopping bags in hand. You were quick to dump them and walk into his open arms. “Oh god Ive missed you.” You mumbled into his chest. “I’ve missed you too, how was work?” He asked whilst holding you tight, hand in your hair. “Pretty shit. Do you ever wish we were just back in school again? We were so oblivious and naive, it was fun.” You groaned and soon felt the vibrations of Joes chest as he chuckled softly. “Hmm, sometimes I do yeah but I can now go into any shop and get wine and cigarettes which is something little Joe was missing out on.” You we’re quick to scoff and pull your head from his chest to look at him and his massive grin. “Oh please! You would never have touched wine back then, it was cider or nothing for you.” Joe cackled as you jokingly screwed your face up, reminiscing on the various house parties that would end in Joseph’s head in a bowl because he claimed the cider tasted like “pop”. “I have a finer taste for alcohol now darling.” He chuckled and pulled your hair back with both hands, staring into your eyes as you stared back into his. “Some things don’t change though.” He muttered as he got lost in a trance of admiration for what he was staring at. You. “How’d you mean?” You asked tilting your head slightly. “Do you remember our last day of school?” You hummed to indicate you did in fact remember. “I told you I thought you were my soulmate and you were so scared I was going to find you boring as time went on.” He was lost in this trance, you could see the flashbacks in his eyes as his eyes lit up with happiness at the fond memories. “I know now.” He smiled softly whilst stroking your cheek with thumb. “Know what?” You asked and gazed up at him with a grin plastered on your face. “That you’re my soulmate and the one person I’ll never get bored of. And I thank my lucky stars every night that I met you when I did, we get to experience life together and have done for 16 bloody years. I know you’re the one for me, you were then, you are now and you will be in years to come.” Joseph was truly, madly n deeply in love with you. The feeling was mutual. “I wish they could see us now.” You whispered, tracing Joseph’s features in admiration of his beauty. “I love you Joseph Quinn, I did then, I do now and I’ll love you till my heart stops beating.”

Joe leant down and kissed you like he did when you were 16 under a massive tree in Hyde Park, with nothing but love and affection. He pulled back and kissed your forehead as he pulled you into him again. Joe was all you’d ever known and all you ever wanted to know, he was home. Wherever Joe was, your heart followed.

#joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader fluff #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn #joseph #joseph quinn one shot #Joseph quinn imagine #joe quinn

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 months

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Breathing Room

Hello again!!! :D The last Fic you did with my prompt on Leon from BBC's Merlin was AMAZING so I thought I might send in another one. (But of course you don't have to write it.) Could you write one where Leon feels like he is never seen properly, like if he's down and under the weather, no-one will notice and he's left in a sort of bubble; feeling detached and emotional far away from everyone. Even if they are standing shoulder to shoulder. And nobody would notice even if he started quietly breaking down at the Round Table or in Council Meetings. But then, when he's perfectly fine, THAT's when people ask him if he's alright and he's tired of it. Especially as he's become fairly decent at analysing his friends' emotions so they don't have to go through the same feeling. Could the Fic (If you do decide to go with this) also go into how Leon might feel weighed down by certain jobs (paperwork and general mothering) but trudges through them because he knows that if he stops, no-one else will do them so he might as well. If you wanted, it could end happy with someone finally seeing him, but I think it should be someone who you think might be feeling the exact same way so it feels more natural. Anyway, thank you so much. Hope you had a great Christmas, or a Happy Holidays, and that the New Year holds good luck and joy for you. :D- IntenseDreamer1 :D

Read on Ao3

Pairings: gwen/leon? I guess?

Warnings: none?

Word Count: 3006

A man who had been raised as a noble, as a knight, might have a different opinion of the rigor of paperwork than a common man, but the reality of it is that work is work. Regarding it as anything but does a disservice to the one who does it and the people who will benefit if it is done properly.

Leon picks up his quill and corrects another figure, sliding the paper further up his desk as the end of it trails to the floor. He glances at the window—the sun has moved three degrees on the side post since last he looked—and then at the scrolls of paper he has yet to examine. He stifles a sigh. The ink glistens where it has yet to dry. The numbers swim and blur in front of him until he could be staring at anything but properly written characters and be none the wiser.

Such is the life he has chosen to lead.

As he readies himself to refocus, his gaze catches on the training sword propped against the end table. The sight of it is enough to give him pause once more, his quill falling slightly from his fingers as the phantom clanging and yelling ring in his ears. That’s right: he has a training session with the young squires this afternoon. The King had wanted them to see what a fully-trained knight could do, and Leon remained the most senior knight in his service.

He really should refocus.

One of the perilous truths of doing paperwork for so long, however, was that once one got into the ‘flow,’ as the steward described it, that left a part of one’s mind free to wander. Even as he reorients himself to check the numbers for the annual reports, part of him lingers in the dark alcove before he steps foot onto the training grounds.

In an odd twist of fate, how a man behaves in that one spot of darkness informs how Leon chooses to train them. Some men race through it as though it were a physical wall, brandishing their weapons and grinning in triumph. Others linger for a moment longer, like a child still afraid of the dark before pressing through. Others still treat it as what it is: a patch of shadow to be walked through in order to progress. He himself has been all three of those knights; when he was first a squire, still a brash and arrogant boy, he dashed through eager to prove himself. When he’d weathered his first battle, shaken by the blood on his face, he’d hesitated. Now, after the years have forged him as much as they forged his sword, he passes through it without a falter in his step.

On very rare occasions, he lingers in it.

He stops and stands completely still before he sets foot in the glaring sun. The slightly cooler air acts as a balm on the edges of his armor where the padding gives way to unyielding metal. The knights in the field have yet to see him.

Perhaps that is truly what it is, that they cannot see him yet.

Leon stifles a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. Perhaps he has taken too long on this one task if his mind is truly so willing to wander. He sets the still-damp paper aside, standing to retrieve the polish from the end table. Several other knights have asked why he doesn’t keep a manservant to do such tasks for him.

Given the scope of your other duties, they say, would it not be better to take the little things off your plate?

A humorless chuckle leaves him as he settles down with the rag and polish. He’s seen what having a manservant is like, thank you. He’s not interested.

Not Merlin—Merlin and Arthur are beasts of their own. But the other servants that speak with an implied gratitude for their mere existence, as though it is by the grace of their liege lord that they may do something so small as draw breath, those he has no need for. He became a knight to serve his people, not to have them grovel for so much as a word of praise. No, he has no need for a manservant.

The sting of the polish interrupts the worst of the mists obscuring the higher function of his mind. He moves the rag in short, even strokes to polish the blade evenly, stopping to add more polish when necessary. The repetitive motion soothes some lingering tension in his shoulders, bleeding down his arms into the blade.

Now, if only the rest of his duties were so easily washed away.

If only the rest of you were as perceptive as Leon, one of the Council members had scoffed at a recent meeting, we’d get twice as much done in half the time!

You needn’t be as perceptive as me, Leon had thought, you just have to be willing to work.

He has tried, over the years, to imbue his training with some of his own particular work ethic, but how has that turned out? Fewer and fewer knights choosing to train under him, despite his prowess, despite his experience. And oh, since he had fewer squires, would he mind picking up on the other things that need to be done while the others train?

The rag slips harshly against the edge of the blade.

Would he mind going over the patrol routes? Would he mind taking care of the maps? Would he mind looking through the ledgers? Would he mind taking on the duties of an entire kingdom, just this once, just this one time, just once more, just forever?

He has half a mind to tell them no once, just to see what they would do.

The smell of the polish irritates the point between his eyebrows, a slight dull ache from the strength of it forming as he works. Without looks, he reaches over and takes a swig of ale, setting the goblet down with a thunk. He flips the blade over. The scratch from Gwaine’s helmet has yet to be repaired fully.

His hand twitches on the pommel.

It is an honor to serve amongst the Knights of the Round Table. They are closer than brothers, closer than family. He would give his life for any of them, just as he knows they would give their lives for him. They are formidable warriors in their own right, and he has not yet known a day where something has truly bested them in a fair fight.

That being said, if any of those men could die, Leon would have killed them already.

He’s not one to deny the right to horseplay—he himself knows the benefits of fooling around every once in a while—but if he catches them using their swords to slice bits of fruit and armor from the air again, he’ll draw blood over it. He swears that some of them might not even know what paperwork is, much less how to do it—and the rest only aggravate him more because he knows they can do it themselves. But it will be a dark day in Camelot when they willingly pick up a quill.

The edge of his finger skips along the sharp edge of the blade.

He sighs, setting aside the rag and polish—it was a good distraction while it lasted—to put the sword back where it belongs. His fingers brush over the scabbard, engraved with the Pendragon crest, and he huffs.

He would never truly wish harm upon any of them, he knows, not even in the sanctity of his own mind. He loves them far too much for it. Perhaps it is that fact itself that keeps him awake long hours into the night with his candle and quill, for he remembers Gwaine jerking awake with a half-choked scream and Elyan’s cheeks wet with tears in the pale moonlight. He sees the way Percival shifts whenever someone looks at him a little too long, or how Lancelot bows his head to hide his face when the knights are addressed as a whole. The armor that they all must wear only gets them so far in the perilous world of courtly proceedings, and what sort of knight could he claim to be if he did not defend his brothers?

But for all his accolades, he is still only a man, and one man is not an army.

Does he resent the others for not noticing his struggle? In large part, no. He understands, truly, he does, the role that he plays in their group. He is the fixed point, the counterbalance to the King’s lionheart. The last line of defense, the First Knight. As the others care for and protect the kingdom, so must he care for and protect them. He shoulders such responsibility with honor, for it is a rare thing indeed to be trusted so entirely with another’s care. But oh, on the nights where he is the only one awake, where there is no other bulk to bear the brunt of the whistling winds, nor the soft easy reminder of companionship, when he alone is left to brace against the storms, then does the man inside the armor long for someone else to just be there.

Leon looks down at his hands. Wrinkled skin and calluses greet him. One of his knuckles has yet to fully heal where he split it fighting a bandit. A bit of ink splashed onto his palm. As he watches, his left hand starts to tremble ever so slightly.

A sudden surge of anger seizes him and he grabs his hand, squeezing hard enough to make the skin whiten. His breath catches in his throat—when did he start panting? His fingers are still twitching. He squeezes harder, hard enough that if he let go, it would take several long seconds for the blood flow to be restored.

He forces himself to close his eyes and take several long, slow breaths. When he’s finished, he eases his hand from his own grip, flexing his fingers.

If this had happened in front of someone else, he doubts they would have noticed how close he had come to breaking his own hand. Why would they? Why would they think that Sir Leon, First Knight of Camelot, would do something so idiotic? Some hysterical part of him wants to try it, wants to sit at the King’s side in the Council meeting and shatter, just to see, just to see. Would they worry? Would they demand Gaius be summoned immediately? Would they ask him if he was alright?

Another mirthless chuckle leaves him as he turns his back on his sword.

If he were a crueler man, he would ask if they only asked when they knew he was alright to avoid confronting the reality that he was not. If he were a kinder man, he would take comfort in the fact that they had thought to ask at all. But he is only himself, as cruel or as kind as that may be, and so he ponders in solitude.

…shit, he really has been doing paperwork for too long, hasn’t he?

A polite knock on his door draws his attention and he opens it, blinking in slight surprise when he sees Gwen standing outside.

“Gwen,” he greets, bowing slightly, “what is it that I can do for you?”

“I was wondering if you’d be willing to accompany me on an errand,” she says after a short curtsy, “there is a delivery that needs to be picked up in the lower town.”

A twinge of annoyance at the base of his spine but he nods. “If you’ll give me a moment to collect myself, I would be happy to.”

Gwen smiles, tucking her hands behind her back as he dons his cloak and sword, shutting the door behind himself as they begin to walk down the hall. Her steps are measured, swift enough to signal that they are not to be stopped, but not too quick as to arouse suspicions. He walks a tad slower only to keep pace, blinking slightly as they move into the sunlight.

The courtyard bustles around them; carts and wagons dash to and fro as the horses are taken to the stables or hitched up to the front. Guards and knights alike nod to him as they pass. Other servants wave to Gwen and she waves back. The sun has done a remarkable job of warming the aftermath of the rainstorm yesterday as they move beyond the walls of the citadel. The scent of freshly bloomed flowers hangs in the air, mixing with the smells of bread and meats from the market. As they pass the baker’s, one of the children runs out to greet them.

“Gwen! Sir!” They come to a stop in front of them, holding out two still-steaming rolls. “Freshly made, still hot!”

“Thank you, Peter,” Gwen says, taking one of them, “that’s very kind of you. How is your sister doing?”

“Still working with the jeweler. She made three necklaces last week.”

“That’s very impressive. Tell her I send her my best, will you?”

“I will!” Peter holds out the other roll and Leon takes it, bowing his head. “Thank you, sir.”

”Thank you, my friend. Run along, now.”

The boy rushes back inside as they keep going. The bread is, well, it’s perfect. The crust has a delightful crunch and the inside is soft and fluffy. He wonders for a moment if he should eat it as the knights do at feasts: by breaking one piece off at a time. But when he sees Gwen take a massive bite and smile with crumbs still falling from her face, he laughs and does the same. He can’t find it in himself to regret it.

As they continue to walk, he finds more and more of the tension bleeding from his shoulders. A few more of the merchants greet the two of them, offering everything from polish for his leather to flowers for Gwen. They greet each and everyone with smiles. Each one feels a little more genuine. They turn another corner and a group of children dart past them, almost running into Gwen. On instinct, he pulls her out of the way, holding her snugly against him.

The older child who must be in charge of them runs past, shouting apologies. Leon chuckles, helping Gwen get herself together.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” She looks in the direction the children had run and shakes her head. “I swear they’re trying to be sheepdogs sometimes.”

”They certainly howl like it.”

They laugh and Gwen nods toward the end of the street. “It’s not much farther.”

“Lead the way.”

“Thank you,” she says quietly as they continue to walk, “for accompanying me.”

He inclines his head—truly, it has been far from the bother he would have had himself believe. “Forgive my impertinence, but is there a reason you asked for me? I’m sure one of the others would have been better suited to help you.”

Gwen laughs again, but with not nearly the humor she had before. “Oh, Merlin and I have been talking about how you’ve looked like you want to murder Gwaine a little more than usual.”

He looks at her in surprise. She shakes her head. “I suppose I wanted thought perhaps it might be a nice change of pace.”

With that, she looks up to catch his gaze. Though her smile remains as polite as ever, there is an odd twist to it that reads…oddly rueful?

Oh.

“Thank you,” he says, hoping the softness of his tone communicates the depth of gratitude, “for your consideration.”

“It’s no less than you do for us,” she says back, just as devastating.

“Well, if you ever need the favor returned, know I will do my best to see it through.” He allows his own smile to slip through. “Perhaps if one of the other knights or nobles is particularly taxing?”

“Oh, I will absolutely take you up on that.”

“And I will be more than happy to oblige.” After scarcely a moment’s hesitation, he offers his arm. She takes it with a blinding grin and he gestures forward. “Come, let us enjoy the walk.”

“That would please me greatly.”

The paperwork can wait for a little while longer. He has an afternoon to enjoy.

#bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #dragonbabbles #fic

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