#and have my awkward phase be my entire favorite part of year

[acanthemp3]

MY HAIR IS FINALLY LONG ENOUGH TO SIDE PART AND NOT LOOK BAD. WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK

#im literally nothing without either my side part bangs or hair too short to have bangs #what im learning is i need to change up the time of year i shave my head or else im doomed to look excellent only in winter #and have my awkward phase be my entire favorite part of year #angel.txt

[lowkeychenle]

Cruel Summer [ZCL] (M)

Description: He wants you. Everything to do with you--your heart, your body, all while keeping your friendship. What's a man to do during a 30-day hook up to get you to stay? (This fic is Chenle's POV!)

A/N: this is inspired by 'Cruel Summer' by Taylor Swift, please do listen to this song because it is SO AMAZING.

Genre: Fluff/Smut/Angst (very minimal angst, like u rlly have to squint)

Content Warnings: LOTS OF FLUFF AND SMUT. ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK OKAY. Drinking, alcohol, intoxication, some instances of friends being shitty/pushy Smut warnings: this has so much smut oh my god. anyway, use of pet names 'sunshine,' 'baby,' 'pretty,' and combinations of them, rough, unprotected sex, protected sex, choking, the smut rlly progressively gets softer but kinkier? a wee bit of dacrophyilia, one oral scene (m receiving), and i think that's it...i'm so sorry if I missed one this thing is so fucking long

Word Count: 20,050 (seriously wtf did I DO?!)

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x fem!Reader (feat. Mark, Haechan, Jaemin, Jeno, and two female OCs, Chaeyoung & Heewon)

Juliet's Masterlist | Requests

Day 1 | June 1st

Chenle, for his entire life, had always said summer was his favorite season. As time went on and he got older, that sentiment got less and less real to him. Now approaching his 23rd year of life, he’d been around long enough to know things younger Chenle never would’ve dreamed of.

Every single summer since high school graduation, Chenle has invited his friends to his family’s vacation house on the beach—including you, his best friend since middle school. You’d seen him through all his awkward phases, and the best part of his month-long summer excursion was seeing you despite how busy the two of you were throughout the year.

For thirty days, everything was normal. You were around, and he relished in your company.

For thirty days, he was able to forget everything except for you and a handful of other friends.

Not that he could ever not have you at the forefront of his mind. Despite the busy schedules you both endured, you somehow ended up crashing at his house often, or vice versa. He often occupied the other side of your bed and, for a long time, thought it was completely normal despite the very odd reactions some people had when he explained he wasn’t your boyfriend.

Nothing had ever happened. At least, not literally. He’d thought about making a move and kissing you, but he decided it wasn’t worth losing your friendship. Throughout your years together, he’d seen you get in relationships, get your heart broken, and break hearts. You’re comfortable being at your lowest with him, and he builds you back up piece by piece without complaint.

“Chenle,” you call from outside, jogging up to the front door. “Is everything in the car? Jaemin and Jeno are almost here.”

He raises his eyebrows as he glances around his house, wondering if he’s forgetting anything. And without meaning to, he scans over you as if he hasn’t been around you all day. Your skin glistens with a thin sheen of sweat from the overwhelming heat outside, and your shorts climb up your thighs with every passing second, but he swears he doesn’t notice.

“I think so. If we’re missing anything, we can just run into town,” he suggests, tagging his fingers on his sides to stop himself from reaching out to you.

Chenle had a little secret—one he hated keeping from you, but had to nonetheless—and it was simply that he was in love with you. It took him years to come to terms with it. After all this time, he accepted it. If he’s around you, the way he acts doesn’t have to change in the slightest. He’s always treated you as more than a best friend, as you’ve done to him, so there’s no reason for him to ruin that…right?

“You good?” You tilt your head at him. “We’re wasting time.”

“We have a whole month,” Chenle retorts.

“And you’re taking away from our first day.” Your eyes narrow, but before he responds, you turn your back on him and rush out the door, yelling at who he assumes is Jaemin finally arriving.

The four of you are driving together, while Mark, Hyuck, Heewon, and Chaeyoung were taking Mark’s car. They’d probably be a bit late, but Chenle didn’t mind.

His favorite thing was road trips—especially if you were involved. Even when Jaemin and Jeno slept in the backseat, you and Chenle had the radio up, the windows down, and you were singing at the top of your lungs. Your best look is when you’re this happy, yelling lyrics without a care in the world. He shouldn’t, but he steals glances at you whenever he can. You sing, looking at him and grabbing his arm and shaking him depending on what songs were on. Giggles pour out of your mouth when he gives you an incredulous look.

The song you replayed the most these days was Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift, and he would never get tired of it. Every time the chorus came on, you swept him up in your performance, and he almost laughed at the way he related to the lyrics.

And I screamed for whatever it's worth

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

He wanted more, but he liked you like this. Hands flying into the air as you scream along to the music. Sooner or later, he ends up joining you. Whenever you’re involved, it’s not weird to find Chenle a single step behind you.

Chenle’s family had a large house on the beach. It was split down the middle, and one of his parents’ conditions was that the boys would stay on one side and the girls on the other. They didn’t have a way to prove any different, but everyone respected their rules.

Jaemin and Jeno typically played whatever game console was in the living room while Chenle got to spend a little bit of alone time with you before the rest of the hyper ones got in.

He stands across the kitchen, watching as you unload all of the snacks you brought onto the counter. After a long drive, the sun is setting on the horizon, and the pretty colors reflecting off your skin have him beyond distracted. It wouldn’t be weird for him to hug you. He’s been clingy with you since…well, since he first met you.

“You sure you don’t want any help?” he asks.

“It’s just little things.” You shrug, waving him off. “That drive was…exhausting.”

He laughs, biting down on his bottom lip to stop himself.

“What?” You continue taking boxes out of the bags.

“The drive always knocks you out, but you do the same thing every time anyway.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m gonna sit with Jaem and Jeno. Come out when you’re done?”

You grin at him. “I’ll only be a few more minutes. Go ahead.”

He leaves you in the kitchen, the nightfall creeping into the house and making his eyes heavy. His bed calls to him from upstairs, but he wants to wait for you. And he doesn’t have a choice but to wait for Mark and the rest of the gang, because they’ll have to have a way inside.

When you join him, you’re equally as tired as him. You slump next to him on the couch, resting your head on his shoulder. With your warmth pressed against him, he smiles and wraps his arm around you. Jaemin and Jeno are battling away, sleep not touching them any time soon after the nap they had in the car.

“You okay?” he whispers, careful not to alert the other two.

Nodding, you curl into him further, sighing into his chest. He hugs you, and somehow, you end up curled into a ball on his lap, head buried in his neck. Your breath tickles his skin, but he doesn’t dare disturb you.

He cradles the back of your head, rubbing his thumb on your scalp. When your breathing steadies, he relaxes. You’re asleep, and if he knows himself at all, he’ll be following you in no time. Any time you’re tired after a long day, you curl into him like this, and he’s come to relish in these moments.

His eyes flutter shut, his own exhaustion peeking through. Absent-mindedly, he presses his lips to the top of your head.

“Ew,” Jaemin groans, giving Chenle a disgusted look. “They make rooms for whatever’s going on there.”

Chenle glares at him once, and he purses his lips and turns his attention back to the game.

“Seriously, if you want to go to bed, we’ll wait for the others,” Jeno offers. “We are capable of opening a door.”

Chenle contemplates it for a moment. He knows he should be the one to greet everyone, but the gentle snores escaping you makes him want to cuddle you properly. It wouldn’t be the first time one of you “snuck in” to the other side of the house and stayed with one another. At the end of the day, he couldn’t get enough of you. Your skin is soft beneath his fingertips, and despite everyone knowing how desperately he wants you except for you, he likes to act like it’s a secret.

“Alright,” he mumbles, shifting under you to see if he’ll be able to find a way to hold onto you. “Make sure to lock it when they arrive.”

Jeno and Jaemin don’t say anything else when he lifts you up and walks you down the hall toward his bedroom. He lays you on his bed first, pulling the blankets back to settle you beneath them.

You’re so peaceful like this—face soft, the slightest smile on your lips. He finds himself dragging his thumb along your cheek just to be able to touch you. You’re perfect to him. 

He climbs in next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and tugging you against his chest. You hum quietly, subconsciously turning to him and bury your head in his chest. He grins to himself at the feeling, at the idea of you being so accustomed to him that you’ll want him even in your sleep.

Kissing the top of your head, he lets out a sigh of content before resting back against his pillow.

Day 2 | June 2nd

The morning together was just like any other—you stayed cuddled up until eight came along and the others were whining down the hall about being hungry. Chenle wouldn’t ever admit it to anyone verbally, but the reason he likes these vacations so much is because of the privacy he gets with you.

Yeah, all of your friends are there, but they’re used to the level of clinginess Chenle has with you. His family, on the other hand? If they knew he woke up at 6:30 am and stayed with you wrapped up in his arms for an hour and a half…

“We should go help before they burn down the kitchen,” you murmur, sighing quietly.

“The longer I can stay in bed, the better.” He squeezes you tighter. “Five more minutes.”

You nod in agreement, shuffling closer. His hand rubs up and down your back, gently dragging his nails to help soothe you further. How you’re unaware of his feelings for you is beyond him—he’s always treated you this way. Like you’re the most important person in his life.

Because…news flash, you are.

Eventually, the two of you have to get up. Mark and Heewon are in the kitchen, and you immediately deduct that that’s a mistake. Chenle quickly shoos them from the kitchen, taking over the role of breakfast chef with your help.

While the two of you cook together, he never has to verbally ask you things. You’re in such harmony, it’s like you know every single move he’s going to make before he does.

“So,” Jaemin says, sitting down on one of the stools behind the island. “The girls said they want to go to the bar tonight. You guys down?”

“Tonight?” Your eyebrows pinch, and your lips turn downward. “It’s only day two.”

“Yeah, we’re trying to maximize our fun time,” Jeno interjects, taking a seat next to Jaemin. “We’ve only got thirty days before we return to the real world.”

“Sorry, you’ll have to count me out.” You scrunch up your nose. “But I’ll start doing things tomorrow. I just need to recharge a little more before I go out anywhere.”

Jaemin turns his attention to Chenle, either wanting him to convince you to go, or to see if Chenle will also be staying in.

“Sorry, Jaem.” Chenle shrugs. “I’m not leaving her here by herself.”

You appreciatively poke his side, something the other two boys don’t see, but it makes his heart flutter nonetheless.

“You two are only forgiven because of the breakfast you’re making. We expect hangover breakfasts tomorrow, too.” Jaemin crosses his arms over his chest and pouts.

“We’ll see.” Chenle continues chopping the onion, sending a quick smile your way when you finish washing the green peppers and putting them down in front of him.

He figured he’d be used to you by now—to the feelings he’s harbored for so long. But every time you prove, once again, that you know him just as well as you know yourself, it makes him want you so much more.

Chenle ended up making dinner, too, which was simply microwaving ramen for each person until everyone was content. Mark, Hyuck, Jaem, Jeno, Heewon, and Chaeyoung were all leaving by six, swearing they wouldn’t be home too late.

“Make them order pizza or something,” you suggest to him as you dry the dishes he washes. “They’re grown adults with money.”

“I kinda like this,” he admits.

“Cooking for the same friends you’ve been cooking for since 7th grade?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, and he snorts.

“Cooking for people in general,” he corrects. “And I like that you’re here to help me. Or just here at all.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I didn’t mean it like that. Let me appreciate your company, asshole.” He finishes up the last dish and turns the water off before handing it to you.

You hum in response, quickly drying it before setting it in the cupboard where it goes. Turning toward him, you lean the small of your back on the counter while your hands grip the edge. Your gaze scans over him, and he swears he feels his spine twist in the most delicate of ways. He loves when you look at him, and whenever you study him, he wonders what kind of lessons he teaches you.

“Thanks for staying back with me,” you say.

“Of course.” He waves you off. “I didn’t want to go to the bar anyway.”

“So, what do we do?”

Chenle chuckles. “Not a clue. The possibilities are endless, I guess.”

“Do you still have that karaoke machine?” You narrow your eyes at him as you await his response.

“Is that even a question? Hell yeah, I do. We can get it set up?”

The smile spreading across your face makes his heart skip, and despite how much he wants to reach out for your hand to pull you down the hall, all he does is gesture to the direction you need to go in.

You clap your hands, quickly following his lead.

This room used to be an office of sorts, but has since evolved now that Chenle’s parents don’t come here anymore. The desk has been pushed against the wall next to the TV, and a large couch takes up the majority of the room. A long time ago, he thought it’d be funny to buy a karaoke machine after he’d realized how much he likes to sing, and it just so happened that you felt the same way.

Every time the two of you come here, it’s a must. However, he hasn’t had the opportunity to have it be just you. Someone else was always intruding on his time, at least for the past few years.

Part of the reason he fell for you in the first place was because of how similar you were to him. You shared similar interests and passions that he didn’t usually find in other people. That, or he wasn’t looking once he realized how much he wanted you.

He loves music, and in every piece he hears, he finds you.

You deeply relate to the music you enjoy, and he admires that about you as well. You pick the songs for the evening, and he has no qualms. He’d rather listen to your picks on repeat than try and go off on his own.

The night starts off easy, some of the songs you pick are classics that you make him do every time. After three songs, you picked Cruel Summer. He knows all the lyrics by now—he memorizes everything that comes out of your pretty lips, regardless of if it’s a song or not. He’ll never forget those lyrics for as long as he lives.

Your laugh is so damn contagious. He tries his best to pull that sound from you every chance he gets, but the air around you is…bittersweet. These moments are his favorite—where he gets to have fun with you and forget the rest of the world exists. But they also make him want you more, and everything you could give him. He wants to be yours, and nights like these prove to him that you’re not.

Three songs in, and you’re both panting and laughing your asses off. Karaoke is never just singing—no, you dance until your legs feel like they’ll give out. That’s Chenle’s number one rule, that it’s never enough to sing the songs. You’ve got to perform them.

But Cruel Summer starts, and he can’t help but see the irony of you singing it in his presence. Or him joining you in it.

Fever dream high in the quiet of the night

You know that I caught it

He sings along, but he quiets himself. Listening to you has become one of his favorite pastimes, so he’ll take any opportunity he can. He dances with you, spins you around, and begs any sort of higher power that he can have you like this forever.

And it's new, the shape of your body

It's blue, the feeling I've got

And it's ooh, whoa, oh

It's a cruel summer

It's cool, that's what I tell 'em

No rules in breakable heaven

A gold gleam catches in the dim lighting when he twirls you in a circle, and he grins. He loves when you wear that bracelet—which is all the time, because he’s got one nearly identical, but yours has his name on it and his has yours.

The chorus makes him move around the room, hyping you up at every chance he has. You laugh through the lyrics, out of breath from the previous songs, too.

So cut the headlights, summer's a knife

I'm always waiting for you just to cut to the bone

Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

And if I bleed, you'll be the last to know

God, he fucking loves you.

The room fades around him while he’s having fun with you, and he wishes he could spend every moment this way. With the excited glow to you, the carefree laughter, the genuine fun.

I'm drunk in the back of the car

And I cried like a baby coming home from the bar (oh)

Said, "I'm fine," but it wasn't true

I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you

And I snuck in through the garden gate

Every night that summer just to seal my fate (oh)

As the lyrics pick up, he joins in for real. This part of the song is his favorite, because the next lyrics are exactly what he wants to say to you but can’t work up the courage to do it.

And I screamed for whatever it's worth

"I love you," ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

He imagines hearing those words from you, too full of emotion to keep them in any longer. You yell the lyrics between laughter, throwing your head back and dancing as if you’ve been drinking. He watches you so fondly, he’s sure you’ll notice. 

The chorus comes back, and you walk up to him like you’re serenading him, making dramatic hand motions while he laughs at you. His whole body buzzes when you’re like this. When everything else fades away and it’s just the two of you.

I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you

And I snuck in through the garden gate

Every night that summer just to seal my fate (oh)

Something changes. He doesn’t notice at first, but your expression changes. The song is about to end, and his heart lurches violently in his chest.

And I screamed for whatever it's worth

"I love you," ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

He looks at you as the last lyrics pour from your mouth, the wide smile on your face dissipating when you see how close he is to you. Instead of yelling them like you did last time, the words trail off, barely leaving your mouth as a whisper. His chest heaves from the energy expended, yours mirroring his. He feels like he’s on cloud nine, the adrenaline sitting on top of his lungs as his brain malfunctions on what to do next.

Honestly, he doesn’t know who does it. Someone leans forward, and your lips are locked. Passion lingers, desperation tugging at his very soul at the feeling of your arms around him. His heart pounds in his ears, almost blocking out how Cruel Summer’s instrumental repeats in the background.

He clenches his fists in the fabric of your shirt, praying, hoping this isn’t one of his bullshit dreams. Without any idea how it happened, he relishes in the softness of your mouth, the way you accept his tongue so easily, and the soft moan you let out when he tugs on your bottom lip gently.

He pants harder now, forehead against yours as he tries to figure out what the hell he should do. You should stop. All of this is a mistake—he didn’t want his first time with you to be like this, where his want makes his pants tighter in record time. The only logical thought in his brain is that damn sound you just made and how he can drag it from you again and again.

Thunder booms in his veins as he pulls you back to him, the second he was without your kiss much too long. You press yourself to him, digging your nails into his shoulders. It’s almost like he has no control over his actions at the moment, the long-standing need for you clouding his judgment.

The pretty, pretty sound you make when he spins you around and practically slams the small of your back against the edge of his desk has him forgetting everything else exists. It’s only you. You and how fucking badly he wants you.

He doesn’t dare speak a word.

Inhaling sharply, he sweeps his arm across all the miscellaneous junk on top of it, successfully and messily clearing a spot for you to sit. You take the hint, hoisting yourself up on the edge and spreading your legs to give him room.

Heat pulses through the room, sending waves through his body. He wants to peel all of his clothes off, have you naked beneath him, and take you in all the ways he’s dreamed off. The glimpse of your black panties below that damn skirt has him more than ready for you.

You tug him closer, interrupting the way he stares at your core. His cock already strains, begging to be buried inside you. He’s not sure where the hell this side of him came from, but the dark gleam in your eyes has him forgetting there’s anything wrong with it.

Sweat already arises on his skin, the mere thought of having you this way enough to send him into a fucking cardiac arrest. There’s no time to be timid—he reaches beneath your skirt to find the hem of your panties, mouths still clashing beautifully.

Without interrupting the kiss, you nod, lifting your hips up so he can rip the skimpy fabric from your body.

Your hands fly down to his pants, and his heart starts doing backflips. Neither of you has said a word, and he thinks for a moment that he should…just to make sure he’s what you want. But at the same time, he figures you know as much as he does how this is a long time coming.

“Do you—”

“I need you right fucking now,” you murmur, shaky fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans. “Fuck, help me.”

His mouth waters. He wishes he could take his time with you, but having you squirming and asking for him to be inside you makes him crazy. Without wasting another second, he reaches down and pushes his pants down to the middle of his thighs. He gasps when you grab him over his boxers, gripping him like you’ve done this exact thing with him hundreds of times.

God, he can’t fucking take it anymore. Pushing your back down against the desk, he flips your skirt up to expose your slick entrance to him. One of his hands grips your hip and digs his nails into your skin, and the other pushes his boxers down.

He debates with himself for a second on how he should do this. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, but he’ll really fucking explode if he’s not inside you within the next ten seconds. He plans on being good, on giving you a second to adjust to him, but when he gently starts pushing inside you, your wetness gushes around him.

Your walls stretch to accommodate him, and your back arches on the wood, and your mouth falls open, and suddenly he can’t control himself. If he gives himself a few seconds to enjoy you while he’s buried so deep, he’ll never be able to let you go. He’ll need to be inside all the time, and that doesn’t sound much like best friends.

Your moans spill recklessly past your lips, the jolt of his thrusts distorting the sound. Fuck, he loves you, but he never imagined sex could feel this good. You flutter around him, urging his cock to move faster, and he does his best to oblige. The desk slams into the wall over and over again, the sound almost as erotic as the sight before him.

You try and fail to find something to hold onto, and when he sees your friendship bracelet—the one with his fucking name on it—he loses it. He puts his hand beneath your neck, pulling you up so you’re face to face. Your face is blissed out, eyes barely staying open as he gives you everything he’s got.

His skin is sticky with sweat, the clothes uncomfortably clinging to his back, he reaches between the two of you, growing frustrated that he left your skirt on. He throbs inside you, desperate to reach his end, so gives the fabric a firm tug, and you gape when it rips at the seam. He half-expects you to scold him for ruining a perfectly good outfit, but instead, your hips buck toward his. 

A tingling sensation forms at the base of his length, and he knows it’s only a matter of seconds before he reaches completion. Without wasting another second, his hand dives between your legs, your arousal making his thumb glide effortlessly across your clit.

Your body shakes, and you lean forward to bury your head in his neck, biting down on his shoulder to contain yourself. He can’t hold back his moans, moving just a bit faster and adjusting his angle to increase your pleasure.

“Fuck, Ch—”

He tangles his fingers in your hair and tugs you back to watch your face.

“Fu—Close,” you whine, lifting your hips to match his thrusts. “I’m cu—”

You cut yourself off with a scream of pleasure, and he swears your walls clamp down on him so tightly, his cock will get stuck. His thrusts falter at the overwhelming feeling of your euphoria, and as soon as it hits you, he’s spurting inside you.

He kisses up the side of your neck, barely breathing properly as he regains his composure. His orgasm wracks his body, pulsing throughout his veins and his bones.

You grasp onto him for dear life, and he returns your embrace. His chest is against yours, both hearts pounding.

And then reality sets in. The music returns to his ears, the beat to Cruel Summer still on a loop, and he wonders how closely you relate to the lyrics.

“Um,” you say breathlessly. “Wow.”

“That…”

“Happened.” You nod, a dazed look on your face as you blink past the shock.

He gulps, wishing that best friend telepathy was real at a time like this. How does he respond to that? Did you enjoy it? Are you already regretting it?

“Chenle,” you murmur.

“Yeah?”

“You’re still…inside me.”

His face burns, and he quickly pulls out of you, trying not to look at the mess he knows is between your legs. He turns away from you to settle himself back in his pants, and he finds your panties on the ground where he threw them.

He gives them to you, and you awkwardly shuffle off the desk before sliding the fabric back up your legs. But he doesn’t want you to…walk away. He wants to take you back to his bed and cuddle you to sleep. To take care of you like he should after such an intimate moment.

Surely, he can’t kiss you, can he?

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Seriously?” You frown at him. “That’s what you want to ask me right now?”

“I don’t really know how to—”

The front door opens, just down the hall as your drunk group of friends arrives back. Your face drops, and you curse under your breath.

“Damn it.” You frantically look around for something to cover your lower half before you go.

Guilt tears at Chenle’s chest—not just because of the ripped skirt, but because it seems like you’re not very happy with your decision. The last thing he ever wanted was to push you into anything. He grabs a blanket from the couch on the other side of the room and hands it to you.

“Chenle! (Y/N)!” Jaemin’s hammered voice booms across the house. 

“(Y/N), can we just—”

“Not now, Chenle.” You shake your head, wrapping yourself up in the blanket and grabbing the split fabric to hide it.

You loop your fingers in his belt loops to tug him close to you, and his jaw drops as he stumbles over. Instead of doing any of the things he wanted you to, you tuck his shirt into his jeans. He’s about to ask you what you’re doing, but then he feels how soaked it is.

Again, his face is on fire. How the hell is he supposed to do this?

He runs his fingers through your hair to fix the tangles, heart racing. As soon as he takes a step away from you, the door opens. Jaemin pours in without any concern.

“Well,” you say, chuckling. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“(Y/N), wait—” Chenle reaches out to you but decides at the last minute to stop, knowing how much is riding on that damn blanket staying put.

“Goodnight, Chenle.” You glance at him, eyes wide and swirling with something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“It smells weird in here,” Jaemin grumbles as he waddles around the room. “Why?”

“Dunno,” Chenle replies with a grimace. “It’s because you’re drunk. Off to bed with all of us.”

Yep…except he’ll be alone, when all he wants is to be curled up with you.

Day 3 | June 3rd

When Chenle wakes up in the morning, he’s pretty sure everything was a dream. He messes with the bracelet latched on his wrist, gulping at the memory of you. How is he supposed to act normally now?

He has to talk to you. Figure out what the hell you’re thinking, because if you regret it, it might break his heart, but he’ll know how you feel about him. You’ve told each other stories of previous relationships, hook-ups, whatever just came out randomly. He never imagined he’d be one of those hook-ups.

And now his bed is all too empty without you, and it’s only day three. 

Images of the night before flash through his mind, and he analyzes everything he sees to try and figure out what he did wrong. If he did something wrong. You almost always sleep next to him, so if this persists, the others will begin to notice, too.

He gets out of bed, hands shoved into the pockets of his pajama pants as he makes his way to the kitchen. Everyone else is awake, the guys and Heewon sitting on the couch. You and Chaeyoung were nowhere to be found, but he tried his best to make it nonchalant. He didn’t want everyone to know he messed up with you. That explanation would be hard.

He glances in the kitchen and still doesn’t see you or your closest friend (besides him, obviously), so he sighs and sits on the far end of the couch. The awkwardness creeps in, like the whole group secretly knows what you two did. Like they’re silently judging him for single-handedly ruining your friendship.

“Who shit in your cheerios?” Hyuck asks, shifting forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Huh?” Chenle frowns. “Nothing happened. I’m just tired.”

“Oh, (Y/N) said you weren’t feeling well last night. She and Chaeyoung went to town to grab some medicine or something.” Mark stretches before getting up to go into the kitchen. “She seemed worried, are you okay?”

Chenle gulps, and he hopes it’s not noticeable. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

Thankfully, they continue their conversation. He can relax for a bit, and then when you come back, he’ll pull you aside. After all, he won’t let this fester. He needs to talk to you—to find out if you view him any differently since he crossed that line with you. The last thing he wants is for anything to change. He likes your friendship the way it is, but he’s also been so desperately in love with you for so long that hope clings to him like a leech.

The door opens, and his head jolts toward it when he hears your laugh. His hands clench into fists, and he’s halfway certain he looks like a lost puppy right now.

The second you see him, he watches your expression change. Your giggle stops halfway through, and you clear your throat as you give him the same wide-eyed look you gave him last night. He wants to jump up and tell you things don’t have to change, maybe even beg you for your forgiveness and say he’ll do anything to keep you in his life—

You and Chaeyoung disappear into the kitchen, and Mark comes back in shortly after. Chenle’s getting antsy, his anxiety sparking at the bottom of his spine as his foot taps on the floor. If he jolts up and runs after you, everyone will know something is wrong.

And if they all know, it’s only a matter of time before Jaemin opens his big mouth, and then you’ll be forever embarrassed by the idea of sleeping with Chenle, and summer vacations will never be the same.

So he gives you five minutes.

“...need to figure things out.” Chaeyoung’s voice is hushed, standing next to you on the far end of the kitchen.

“Yeah, tell me about it. But I—” You stop the moment you catch Chenle in the room.

“I think Jeno needs me for something,” Chaeyoung mentions, sending a small smile his way before darting out of the room. He sighs. If you told Chaeyoung, you’re probably more freaked out than he thought.

You look down at your feet as he approaches you.

“We need to talk about this,” he mutters. “I don’t like feeling like I fucked up.”

Your gaze darts up to his, your eyebrows furrowed as you scan over his face. “This isn’t really the best place to talk, Le. Any of them could walk in right now.’

“I’m not just—I’m not going to forget about it. It happened, okay? And it’s okay if you’re upset by it and you never want to be near me again, but I…I need to know. The silence is killing me.” He realizes it hasn’t been that long, but sleeping alone really got to him.

“Why would you think I’m upset?” you ask.

“You practically ran away from me last night. And you usually sleep with me, and you didn’t. You didn’t even tell me you were going anywhere this morning.”

“I figured you’d know where I was going.” You cross your arms over your chest, glancing away from him.

“How could I possibly have known?” he inquires.

“Chenle…” You let out a small laugh. “You…you came inside me last night. Chaeyoung took me to buy Plan B.”

His jaw drops as he flounders for words. Cheeks burning, he drops his head into his hands and sighs. “I’m a fucking idiot. I didn’t even realize, I was so—I’m so sorry, I don’t even know why I would ever—”

“Relax.” You put your hands on his shoulders. “I was the one who kissed you. You’re psyching yourself out, because I don’t regret it or anything like that. Actually, I’d…kinda like to do it again.”

Alarm bells ring in his head, and his eyeballs feel like they’re about to pop out of his skull when he looks at you fast enough to give himself whiplash.

“You want to…” he trails off, lowering his voice. “...have sex with me again?”

“I mean, only if you want to.” You chew the inside of your cheek, fidgeting with your fingers. Quickly, you continue, “Obviously, nothing has to change. Like, I’m not asking you for…a relationship or anything. There won’t be any rules. Except the fact that you have to…you know, use a condom, but we could just…have a good summer.”

His heart sinks. What you’re proposing is not what he wants. It further proves to him you don’t reciprocate the feelings that led him to his recklessness last night. He shouldn’t agree. No, he should say he’d prefer to keep anything…sexual…out of your friendship, but God damn it, he was tired of leaving his love on the side. Maybe he can’t tell you out loud, but if you’re okay with sleeping with him, he’ll show you.

“Chenle?” you whisper. “I’m sorry if that’s too much. You can forget I said anything.”

You scramble to gather yourself before you try to turn away from him. He reaches out and grabs your wrist, tugging you back to him.

“I wasn’t expecting that.” He pauses, sighing. “Are you sure, (Y/N)? This could get messy.”

“I know I said no rules, but I’m a little bit of a control freak—”

“You act like this is the first time I’ve met you.” Chenle chuckles.

You glare at him before continuing. “Anyway. Nobody can know. I told Chae, but she had to drive me so she doesn’t count. Plus, she won’t tell the others. So, we act normal around our friends, okay? And we don’t…talk about it. Things happen as they will, and we wait until at least the end of June to figure things out.”

“It sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into this,” he admits, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“We don’t have to change. But I did like yesterday, and it’s been so long since someone’s made me—” you cut yourself off, pressing your lips into a line. “You know what I mean.”

“I…Yeah, I do know you’ve been with trash guys—”

You gently smack his chest, glaring at him. “That was not permission for a dig.”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, his heart melting in his chest when he sees the smile spread on your face. Maybe you don’t have feelings for him, but you don’t hate him—that’ll be enough to get him through this. At least for a while.

“So, we’re good?” You look up at him.

He’s no match for you. Not in any case or situation. His heart belongs to you, and it tears him apart piece by piece to know yours isn’t his.

“Of course, we’re good.” He nods, pulling you in for a hug and sighing in relief. “We can do whatever you want to do.”

“Oh, but that sounds like you don’t want to.” You cringe, but he laughs.

“This is kind of new territory, you know. If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have done it the first time.” God, but he wants so much more. He wants all of you, not just momentary flings.

You pull back from him, your gaze gleaming. “And how long have you wanted to do that?”

“I’ll have to get drunk before I tell you the answer to that.” He snorts. “Let’s go back out there before they realize how long we’ve been in here.”

The rest of the day was uneventful to say the least. Chenle was happy to have you back at least in your normal friendship way, so he just enjoyed the way you put your legs over his lap and rested your head on his shoulder.

He didn’t feel awkward around the group like he expected to be, but it wasn’t until later in the night when it really set in. With the two of you in his bedroom, the door closed (and locked).

Watching you closely, he’s dying to reach out and touch you. He’s not sure if it’s normal urges he always felt or if they’re new, from the way he had you just yesterday. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he fidgets with his hands.

“You don’t have to be awkward,” you mention to him as you pull your shirt over your head.

He’s not a stranger to seeing your body. You’ve never been uncomfortable changing with him in the room, and he does the same with you. He almost laughs to himself at the thought of seeing you more naked beforehand than while you had sex. His mind races, and when you reach behind your back for the clasp of your bra, his face heats up and he averts his gaze.

It doesn’t matter what he agreed to—it doesn’t feel right to look at you in a state like this without your permission.

Once you’ve pulled one of his T-shirts over your head, you walk over to him, nestling yourself between his legs. He gulps as he looks up at you. Your finger traces along his jaw, eyes scanning over his face.

“Normal, right?” he whispers, gripping the back of your thighs.

“Totally normal.” You nod.

“But I still can…kiss you? If I feel like it?” His voice almost fails him, his heart lodged in his throat.

“When we’re alone, you can do whatever you want.”

Your words make his heart stop in his chest, and he realizes the implications of this. If he’s fallen completely for you without kissing, sex, and the intimacy of those physical aspects, what will it be like when he gets you whenever he wants?

“I want it, too.” You cup his cheeks and tilt his head up.

“And if it’s just kissing?” he asks. “What if that’s all I want right now?”

“Whatever you want,” you reassure him. “I’m not expecting you to want sex every night, you psycho.”

“C’mere.” He pulls you closer, one of his hands grasping the nape of your neck. The initial brush of your lips against his has his breath shuddering. He’s not prepared for any of this. It hasn’t really sunk in yet, but the way your mouth tastes has every sense in his body heightened.

He curses under his breath when you climb on top of him and straddle his lap. It still feels like he’s taking advantage of you like this—you don’t know his true feelings, so how could he do this to you?

“Chenle.” You sigh and halt your movements. “If this is too weird for you, we don’t have to—”

He shakes his head, hands immediately flying to your ass and pushing you closer to him. His length is beginning to harden, and he moves you to make sure you feel it through his shorts.

“I…want you.” He squeezes, making your hips roll.

“Then what’s going on?” you ask.

“I just need to get used to it,” he replies. “To acknowledge how much I…It just feels kinda like I’m dreaming.”

“Why?”

“You…” His cheeks are so hot, he thinks they’ll burn off. “I never thought you’d want me like this.”

You chuckle, and much to his dismay, climb off his lap and get into bed. “Little do you know, I was thinking the same thing.”

He yearns to reach out to you, to pull you back to him, but instead, he lets out a sigh and takes his spot next to you. The last thing he needs to do is push you. He’d walk on eggshells if he had to, if only it meant he could keep whatever fragile intimacy occurring between you.

He wraps his arm around your waist, taking a deep breath as you turn toward him and bury your head in his chest.

And after you fall asleep, he’s still up through the night, trying to figure out if there’s any chance of this ending in his favor.

Day 5 | June 5th

He wants you.

Everything inside him burns at the thought of your agreement, and he needs to pull you away from your friends and have his way with you. He tells himself over and over again that patience is key, but he can’t stand it.

The last few days were uneventful—well, as uneventful as they could be when it came to his newfound physicality with you. He thinks of kissing you in front of everyone, showing all of them where his head has been since the second night at this damn place.

How is he so needy after three days?

In closed quarters, you kiss him, hug him, grind on him, he’s sure his head is going to explode any moment. The night at the bonfire is coming to a close, but not fast enough.

“(Y/N)!” Mark calls out from the water’s edge. “How much money for you to jump in?”

You let out a loud ha! and shuffle away from Chenle. The air is warm, so he knows you’ll be okay, but he’s also concerned by how much he’s interested in seeing your body soaked with—

Hyuck’s hand smacks Chenle’s chest, causing him to cough and shoot a glare at the other man. “What the hell?”

“Why are you staring like that?” Hyuck asks. “Nervous Mark’s gonna steal your girl?”

“She’s not my girl.” He has to force the words out. After all, he doesn’t really believe them….or want to. “I’m just tired.”

Donghyuck lets out a childish chuckle, putting his beer bottle to his lips and chugging the rest of it. Chenle sips his own drink, returning his grumpy stare to you. You’re laughing uncontrollably as you climb out of the water, soaked from head to toe. Your head falls back as you hit Mark’s arm, barely able to contain yourself from whatever Donghyuck made him miss.

You’re barely lit by the firelight, but Chenle’s never seen someone so beautiful. Fooling your friends won’t be hard—he knows damn well he’s always acted the same way around you that he does now, and he certainly has been this clingy since day one. You give him one of your award-winning grins, and before he can object, you flop yourself down on his lap, cackling evilly as the water soaks through his clothes, too.

“(Y/N), what the hell—” Chenle attempts to push you off, but you push yourself into him further.

“I’m soaked.” You don’t stop giggling, but Chenle hates the way he reacts to those words.

His face flames, and before you understand what happened, he pushes you from his lap so you’re sitting next to him on the chair. You look at him inquisitively, and he ignores you with another quick drink.

Music plays from the speakers. You get up to switch the song since your phone is the one set up. It’s only at that moment he realizes you know exactly what you’re doing. Cruel Summer plays, and every inch of his body catches on fire.

His throat dries, and you look at him over your shoulder.

Despite every muscle in his body craving for him to approach you and pull you back into the house, he gets up to grab another bottle instead. The night is going to drag, and he’s almost guilty for how he’s thinking. He’s supposed to be here and enjoying the summer with his friends, and all he wants is to be alone with you.

Pushing you to the back of his mind, he tries to engage more in conversations with the group. He gets into a somewhat heated discussion with Jaemin about global warming, and when you take your spot next to him, he naturally puts his arm around you as you lean into him.

“Can we go to bed?” you ask him, lips brushing his ear. “I’m tired.”

“We should wait,” he replies, taking in the rest of the group. “Just a bit longer, okay?”

You whine quietly but nod, putting your head on Chenle’s shoulder. He’s itching to drag you to his bedroom, but he wants things to be as normal as possible. The two of you rarely cut the party short, and on top of that, he’d prefer to know where everyone else was before he started touching you.

It’s only another ten minutes before Heewon decides she’s done for the night. Chenle nearly sighs in relief.

Everyone agrees to head in, and you all casually separate with a quick goodnight. As soon as Chenle’s door closes behind him, he sighs and runs his fingers through his hair.

“You okay?” you ask him, turning him to face you. “You’ve been off all day.”

He shakes his head, chewing on his bottom lip as he examines you. “You…you said you wanted this, and I’m kind of confused. If you act the same, how do I know when you…you know.”

Your eyes gleam as you smile at him. The sight alone has his heart doing somersaults, and he suddenly wishes he could take the question back. He’s tired of wondering—he needs to figure out what all of this means.

“You’re so cute, Lele,” you tease him. “How are you supposed to know when I want you? Always. I’ve been waiting for you to initiate because you seemed a little uncomfortable, so I didn’t want to push you.”

“So, all I need to do is tell you when I’m…” He cringes at himself. “This is weird.”

You move closer to him and sling your arms over his shoulders. “Exactly. All you have to say is that you want me, and I’m yours.” Your voice is so soft and sweet, it caresses his ears and flows into his brain, and his senses become overrun by you.

“I do. Right now.” Is all he says before he swallows his nerves and connects his mouth with yours. You gasp against him, startled at the sudden movement, but within seconds, return his gesture.

His hands move to the small of your back and press you as close as possible, his lips working messily against yours. He wastes no more time; walking you backward, he lets you fall back onto the mattress.

Settling himself between your legs, he takes a second to look at you—to study your face and the look in your eyes that’s never really changed. He wonders how long you’ve wanted him for. Your thighs part to welcome him perfectly, sighing when he rolls his hips tentatively.

“This,” he whispers, lips grazing your neck. “This is how it should’ve been the first time.”

His nerves seep away when your body shudders beneath his. Your hair is still slightly damp, clinging to your skin and enticing him further. He grinds his hardening length over your core and kisses you gently.

“You have to be quiet,” he continues. “Jaemin and Jeno are right down the hall.”

You nod, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him back to you. “I know. I’ll be good, Lele.”

He gapes for a moment, not used to words having such an effect on him. Gulping, he reaches up and runs his thumb along your bottom lip.

“That’s right,” he confirms. “Be a good girl for me and you won’t regret it.”

Your gaze gets a shade darker, and the thought of what awaits him beneath your clothes overwhelms him completely. You grab at his shirt, attempting to pull it off his body. He moves back to remove it, and then you’re arching your back to allow him to do the same to you. Sitting on his knees, he moves his hands up your body until they’re squeezing your breasts through your black lace bra.

“Can I—”

“You don’t have to ask, Chenle.” You cup his cheeks, lifting his head so he sees you. “I trust you.”

He’s uncomfortably hard at this point as he takes your shorts off you. Your panties match your bra, and he swears he’s never been closer to finishing in his pants. Nobody has ever made him weak like you do. They’ve never appealed to him in the same way, a way of adoration and love and all the beautiful things life has to offer.

You sit up to unclasp the material supporting your chest, tossing it across the room. Everything inside Chenle melts. You, in this vulnerable state, staring at him impatiently as he pushes you back against the mattress.

He dips down, taking your nipple in his mouth. A quiet sigh of pleasure escapes your lips, and his hips buck against yours. He grinds against you as if he’s already thrusting in and out, and he groans at the thought of your wetness all over him.

His nails drag up and down your thigh, and as he pulls away from your breast to move to the other, a strand of saliva follows. The sight is far more erotic than he imagined, and he grips your thigh harshly.

“Kiss me,” you ask him. “Please.”

And someone like him could never deny someone like you—he lunges upward to capture your mouth, his tongue battling with yours as he moves his hand to the hem of your panties. He pulls away for a second, glancing at you once for confirmation.

You nod, almost frantically, and he decides it’s okay to let go for tonight. You want him as badly as he wants you, so why should he hold back? He curses under his breath the second he feels your arousal on his fingertips.

At first, he teases you, running his finger up your entrance until he’s brushing your clit. He smirks at the way you squirm beneath him, desperate for his touch. He’s the one you want.

“Ask me nicely,” he hums against your neck. “Be good and tell me you need me.”

“God, Chenle,” you whine, rocking your hips. “Please touch me. I need you so bad.”

His own eyes nearly roll into the back of his head when he pushes two fingers inside of you. You grip him so tightly, he wonders how you took him so well just a few nights before. He’d been an asshole and got right to it instead of working you up.

Your breaths turn into whimpers, and your walls quiver around him. He’s already lost in you, in the way you feel on his fingers and the scrunch of your face as you try to hold back the noises you’re desperate to make. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to fall for you more than he already has, but tonight, he learns that falling in love is not linear, and it doesn’t stop.

Tonight, he finds out that it’s a free fall into the deepest ocean, and the only option is to sink further in the water and let the waves take him.

He swallows your quiet moan, positioning his thumb on your clit as he continues his descent into madness. Your walls begin to tighten, so he instinctively kisses you, using his hand to help you ride out the high that’s sending shivers down your body. You squirm beneath him, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip.

“Where are the condoms?” he asks you.

Still dazed, you blink a couple times. “Uh, I…they’re in the nightstand I think.”

He kisses your cheek, irritated at the coldness when he moves away from you. Sighing in relief once he finds the box, he opens it and tears one away from the rest. He tries to swallow his nerves, but when he sees you resting on your elbows, waiting for him, he halts.

This is you.

The one he’s always been able to be himself around, and what if he’s ruining it by thinking with his dick?

“I know that look.” You lift yourself off the bed and approach him, grabbing the wrapper from him. “We don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I want to,” he says, wetting his lips. “I want you, but I don’t want to lose you.”

You frown, shaking your head and pulling him closer. “It doesn’t matter how this goes, Le. You’ll never lose me. I promise.”

I love you almost slips, but he holds it back. But God, he’s sure he’s never loved you more.

You reach down to push his shorts and boxers down before guiding him back. He sits on the edge of the bed, gripping your hips and refraining from yanking you onto his lap and sliding his cock in.

When you open the condom wrapper, his heart is about to jump out of his chest. And then you’re putting it on him, pushing your panties to the floor, climbing onto his lap to straddle him, and rubbing his tip against your entrance.

It’s like time stops as you sink down on his length. Moonlight flits in through the windows, illuminating your body and your skin and the subtle eye roll. He can’t breathe. Every time he tries, his lungs fail him, as if you’re drowning him with everything you have.

He wraps his arms around you, your chest pressing to his as he slowly, slowly guides you down on him. You both sigh together, trying not to alert your friends down the hall. 

“You’re amazing,” he mutters, dazed. “Feels so fucking good.”

You drop your head onto his shoulder, your uneven breaths fanning across his skin. He rocks his hips, but your tightness almost makes it hard for him to move. This time, he doesn’t want to rush. He wants to enjoy all you have to offer and take his time with you—make love to you, really.

“Hold on, baby,” he whispers, wrapping you in his arms. “Gonna turn us over.”

He does just that, the clench of your walls on his cock enough to make him delirious. After you shift to get comfortable, he intertwines his fingers with yours and pushes your hand deep into the mattress next to your head.

With his chest brushing yours, he moves, taking his time in pulling out only to push back in. Your head falls back against the mattress, your eyes closing. You squeeze his hand as hard as you can, doing your best to lift your hips to match his thrusts.

The room is full of moonlight, soft pleasure, and the sound of him pushing into your dripping entrance.

He whispers praises in your ear, telling you how good you make him feel and how you take him so well. The slickness of sweat makes your bodies stick together, and the room gets hotter and hotter the longer he’s seated deeply inside you.

The first time he had you, he barely had time to process what happened. This time, he’s basking in the moment, giving you gentle kisses over your face as he keeps a steady pace. He wants to stay here like this forever, but he knows better than to let that thought run rampant in his head.

He releases your hand—which ends up in his hair—as he reaches between the two of you and presses his fingers to your clit. You whine a little louder than you should, so Chenle silences you with his mouth. The position is a bit awkward for him, but the buck of your hips makes sure that’s the last thing on his mind.

Your body shudders beneath him, moans spilling into his mouth for him to swallow and keep for his own. He thrusts a little faster, eager to bring you to your edge and experience your pleasure for himself.

You whisper his name like a mantra, euphoria quickly claiming you as you drag your nails down his back. In the midst of that feeling and your walls clamping around him, he bursts into the condom, cursing under his breath. 

Despite his dry throat, he manages to kiss along your neck while attempting to regain his breath.

“That,” he tells you. “Is how it should’ve been.”

“Feel free to do it like that all the time.” Your tired giggle fills his ears.

He squeezes your thigh gently as he pulls out of you, ready to groan at the loss. You lay there with a smile on your face as he disposes of the condom in the adjoining bathroom. When he returns to you, he’s surprised to find you under the blankets on your side.

When he raises an eyebrow at you, you shrug. “You can get dressed if you want. I’m too tired.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he climbs into bed next to you and pulls you close to him. Your skin is damp with sweat, but he’s sure his is worse. He kisses the top of your head, and just like so many nights before, he hums songs for you until you fall asleep.

Day 6 | June 6th

In the night, you curled further into him. His eyes are closed, but he’s been up for a while. Fingers trailing up and down your spine, he thinks he’s reached his peak. The summer sun amplified through the window warms his skin, but more importantly, it illuminates you and the softness of your features as you sleep.

The brightness blinds him, but he doesn’t mind. Not when his focal point is you.

He made love to you last night. All of his feelings were delivered to you on a silver platter and, just for a brief moment, he thinks he saw it back from you. Like there’s a part of you—however small—that wanted him the same way.

The sound of a door opening and closing down the hall wakes you, and you wrap your arm around him tighter.

“This is nice,” you murmur, kissing the base of his neck.

“I think so, too.”

“Do we have to get up?” You shake your head as if answering your own question.

He chuckles. “It might look weird if we don’t.”

“I need to shower.” You shift onto your back and run your hands down your face.

He uses the opportunity to move over you and kiss down your neck, finding your pulse quicker than it should be after just waking up. Nipping your skin to stop his smirk, he inhales your scent.

“You could always come with,” you offer, running your fingers through his hair.

“Now, that’ll be obvious.” He chuckles and pulls away from you, removing himself from the blanket as he stretches. When he looks back at you, you’ve already grabbed his T-shirt from the ground and are in the process of putting it on. He gets a brief glimpse of you. Slamming his eyes shut, he assumes nothing good will come of seeing your naked image in his mind over and over again.

The bed dips behind him as you climb over, draping your arms over his neck and kissing his cheek. “You should do it anyway.”

He snorts and pushes you away jokingly. With your signature grin plastered on your face, you make your way into the bathroom and shut the door behind you. Once he hears the water starting, he drags himself over to his bag to get dressed. He decides on a pair of sweatpants and a black T-shirt, and on his way out of the room, Jeno is also heading for the kitchen.

Chenle avoids his eyes as much as possible, wondering if any of his escapade with you last night was audible for him or Jaemin. Chasing the thought out of his head, he goes straight for the water bottles in the fridge.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Mark asks, eating the watermelon Chaeyoung cut up a couple days back.

“She’s in the shower,” Chenle replies nonchalantly, unscrewing the cap and taking a drink.

“You didn’t want to join her?” Heewon laughs from the side as she butters her toast.

He narrows his eyes in her direction. “And why would I do that?”

“Well, you guys do everything else together,” she replies.

That earns her a cackle from Hyuck, but Chenle shakes his head.

“We don’t do everything else together.”

“Right, you guys are just dating without the benefits of getting off.” Mark pretends to be lost in thought.

Chenle’s heart twists violently in his chest, nearly lurching him forward. He wants everything from you—anything you want to give him, he’d take without hesitation. Heewon scolds Mark quietly and smacks his arm, because apparently that was what was too far.

He half expects Jeno to pipe up and expose exactly how opposite your relationship with Chenle is now, but he stays silent. Hopefully, that means Jaemin and Jeno heard nothing from last night. Your sounds were for Chenle and Chenle only, and a part of him felt glory in that.

The teasing from the friend group never bothered him before, but with this new side of your relationship, he let the words sink in deep.

How exactly was he going to make it out of this unscathed?

Day 8 | June 8th

Both of you knew it was risky, but something about you had him bent way out of shape. The group was doing their yearly ice cream run in less than an hour, and all he cared about at the moment was being inside you.

He put you on the bathroom counter, your body next to falling off it if he wasn’t holding onto you so tightly. Without much warning, he enters you completely with one thrust. His hand covers your mouth, capturing the moan spilling past your lips. Your eyes roll back, and he swears that sight alone is almost enough to get him off.

You murmur his name against his palm, head lolling back.

“Sorry, Sunshine.” He nips your earlobe as he rocks his hips gently to help you adjust to his size. “We’ve gotta be fast.”

“‘M good,” you say, gripping tightly onto his shoulders.

He takes the hint, beginning his movements a bit quicker than he normally would. Even though he hasn’t had a drop of alcohol in days, the world sways around him as if he’s drunk. You’re what’s intoxicating him, and in the moments where you’re connected, he feels like he’s on cloud nine.

One hand rests on the small of your back, and the other stays on your mouth, desperate to finish but needing you to stay quiet. Whenever he thinks of being with you in this way, he tries to fuck you in the ways you deserve—make you feel so good you’re dreaming about it long after you’re done—but both of you are far too desperate right now to consider anything like that.

Your nails leave angry red crescents in his skin, but it only spurs him faster. His hips rutt against yours, his body craving the complete euphoria he’s only ever been able to accomplish with you.

His gaze meets yours, and he finds your eyebrows furrowed. Since he’s got such a firm grip on you, you move one of your hands and slide it down your body, watching him closely as if he’s going to stop you.

As soon as your fingers find your clit, you groan and your walls flutter around his cock. He curses, and his next sharp thrust has you whining.

“I’m so…” you trail off, body nearly falling limp in his grasp.

But just before you reach your high, the bedroom door opens, and there’s approximately two seconds before whoever walks in sees inside the bathroom. The next curse that falls from his lips is for two reasons—one, because all he needed was another minute, and he would’ve reached his high. Two, because he now has to figure out a way to make this look like anything except what it is.

He pulls out of you, readjusting your panties and guiding you off the counter before he tucks his painfully hard cock back into his sweats, condom and all.

“(Y/N)’s sick,” he calls out. “Give us a few minutes and we’ll come out okay? She’ll kill me if I let you see her like this.” He moves over to the door and closes it, locking it before whoever it is can see the mess you’ve turned him into.

“Oh, be fucking for real,” Chaeyoung’s voice says. “(Y/N), are you really sick? Or are you two—”

You breathe a sigh of relief when you hear her. Instead of letting Chenle answer, you pull your shirt down to cover yourself before cracking the door open.

“I’m okay. We’ll be out in like, two seconds.”

“You horny bitch.” Chaeyoung purses her lips. “Can’t stay off his dick for five minutes.”

Chenle feels his insides churning at that comment. For a moment, he’s sure she’s being serious, but then both of you burst into laughter, and Chenle’s blood cools.

“We would’ve been out already if you hadn’t interrupted us.” You pinch your fingers together. “I was this close.”

“Are you at least using condoms?” she asks in a hushed voice, turning the tips of Chenle’s ears bright pink.

“Yes, mom, now if you could go, I need to put some actual clothes on.” You shoo her away.

“The guys want ice cream. No dick until later,” she tells you, laughing as she walks out of the room.

You let out a sigh and close the door again, biting down on your bottom lip as you look at Chenle.

“Sorry, we don’t really have TMIs, so she…” You clear your throat.

“No, that’s…that’s good that you have someone to talk to about all of this that’s not me,” he says, walking up to you to put his hands on your hips and tug you close. “You think she’ll be mad if I just…”

He turns you so your back is to his chest, lips latching onto your neck as his touch trails down to the hem of your panties.

“I’d hate to leave you hanging when you were this close.” He tongues along your pulse, skimming below the hem of your panties.

“You’d better make it quick, Lele.” You lean your head back on his shoulder. “She’ll kill us.”

He grins smugly at the invitation, allowing his fingertips to graze lower until he finds your clit. You’re still soaked from being robbed of your high, so your body jerks at the sensation. He grinds against your ass, proving to you how badly he wants to be inside you.

“T-this is going to be embarrassingly fast.” You pant, rocking your hips back and forth. “I need more.” Your hands grip the edge of the countertop, pained whines escaping you.

He moves faster on your clit, and before he’s able to comprehend what’s happening, you squirm and bite down on your hand to stop your noises.

“Look at yourself, baby,” he whispers, his other hand sliding up to your throat to guide your face toward the mirror. “Look at how fucking good you look when I’m touching you.”

You inhale sharply, moving your own hand up to his to press his fingers in around your neck. He rubs you faster, taking his own initiative in squeezing you to control your breathing. Looking up at your reflection, he almost starts drooling at the sight of what he’s doing to you.

Your whines turn into breathless wheezes, and seconds later, you part your lips to let out a silent scream of pleasure as your insides clench around nothing.

He slows his circles to help you come down from your high, showering your shoulder and neck with kisses.

“Alright,” he whispers, retracting his touch from you. “We’d better get going.”

“But you didn’t—”

“You’ll make it up to me later.” He kisses you one last time. “You look so fucking sexy when I’m touching you.”

“Keep talking like that and we’ll never make it out of this bathroom,” you warn him.

You’re doing it on purpose.

Every year, the group goes to the same place for ice cream. Chenle’s been coming here ever since he was a young boy, but it’s been at least 5 years since he started bringing the rest of your friends, too. They have new experimental flavors, and it’s his mission to try all of them.

So, of course, he chooses one, and you choose a different one. The two of you are meant to be acting normally, but the way your lips close around his spoon has his mind spiraling. Not to mention how you make eye contact with him, and that damn gleam in your gaze is enough to make his cock jump in his pants.

How did he ever live without being inside you before?

“Hey, guys.” Chaeyoung tosses her arms over the two of you, grinning widely before lowering her voice. “If you don’t want people to know, you’re doing an awful job. You’re looking at each other like you ingested the worst Harry Potter love potion imaginable.”

The word love throws him off track, and he quickly takes his spoon away from you and side steps to run his fingers through his hair. He has no idea what’s gotten into him. Usually, he’s pretty good about this kind of stuff. And to be honest, before he started messing around with you, he wasn’t nearly as horny as he is now.

No, because now, he feels like he needs to be touching you constantly, and if he’s not, he’s wasting valuable time.

He tries his best to shove those thoughts to the back of his mind. At some point, you’ll have to go back to being just his best friend. It pains him that this can’t be forever, but at the end of the day, he has you. Whether or not it’s completely is a different story.

Everyone takes their usual table outside, and you sit between him and Chaeyoung. The guys converse, the girls laugh over something, but Chenle isn’t joining either conversation. Worry sinks deep in his gut instead. He wonders if it’s okay for him to be as nonchalant about the two of you having sex as he is.

You’re his best friend. Regardless of his feelings toward you, he should’ve done the mature, right thing and declined this offer.

But he’s in too deep now, and all it takes is one wide smile from you to tilt the earth on its axis.

For the next couple hours at this ice cream parlor, things are back to normal. He suppresses his urges the way he always has. His mind lingers on you, especially when your voice and your laugh echoes in his ears, and this time…

This time, he knows what he has to do.

Day 15 | June 15th

“Okay, this is getting ridiculous.” You close his bedroom door behind you and cross your arms over your chest. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

“What are you talking about?” he asks, frowning.

“Don’t play stupid.” Your foot taps anxiously on the ground. “One week, we’re all over each other, and now you’ve barely even touched me since Chaeyoung almost walked in on us. Is that what’s going on? You’re weirded out that she knows things about us?”

“Us.” He scoffs, tugging his fingers through his hair. “What us, (Y/N)?”

You visibly recoil, hurt playing out on your face as Chenle instantly regrets his words. Even then, he’s not going to back down from this.

“You’re starting to piss me off.”

“I…I don’t want sex.” He shrugs.

You wet your lips and narrow your eyes, trying to comprehend what he means by that. “That’s just—like, that’s okay. I don’t want you to feel like you have to have sex with me, Le, but if our friendship is going to survive this, I need you to be honest and open with me.”

“The sex isn’t the problem.”

“Oh.” Your voice waivers, and he immediately wishes he never opened his mouth. A short laugh of disbelief escapes you.

“It’s not you, either,” he quickly adds, grabbing onto your hand. “It’s really not. I…I still need my best friend, though. And it feels like I’m losing that side of you because things are changing. You said nothing would change.”

“I haven’t changed,” you tell him. “Everything I do is exactly what I’ve done last year or the year before that. I’ve been teasing you a little, yeah, but I thought you liked it. Am I an idiot?”

Chenle’s chest deflates. “No. No, you’re not an idiot. I’m an asshole.” He pulls you to his chest and cradles the back of your head. “I’m sorry. I’ve been acting like a little kid. All I want is my best friend, and I’m scared that after all of this is over, I’m gonna lose you. I don’t know how to live without you. You know that.”

“You’d only have to worry about ruining our friendship if the dick was bad.” Despite the thickness of your voice, your humor breaks through.

He snorts and pushes you away, rolling his eyes. “Dude, for real?”

“I’m just being honest.” You tug on his arm, and for a moment, he sees a glimpse of your previous friendship.

Maybe everything can work out.

“As your best friend, I think we should watch that movie with Mark and Chae.” You grab his hand and play with his fingers.

“Okay.” He nods. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

That’s how he ends up curled up with you on the couch, your back pressed to his chest and snuggled up with a blanket. He feels at peace for the first time in a long time, the steadiness of your breathing almost enough to lull him to sleep. The screen plays some sort of superhero movie, but he’s not too interested in it. He’s more interested in the way a small sound tumbles from your lips as you turn toward him.

He holds you close, smiling to himself at the warmth you create. When he glances back up, he meets Chae’s gaze. The woman scans over the two of you, her expression warm. Chenle thinks he imagined it for a moment since he’s so tired, but Chae gives him a thumbs up and turns back to the screen.

Day 16 | June 16th

“Chenle, can I talk to you for a minute?” Chaeyoung asks, leaning on the archway leading into the kitchen.

You went with Heewon and Jaemin to the store, so he had nothing to do otherwise. He nods and follows her into the other room. Grabbing the orange juice from the fridge, he tiredly gives her all of his attention.

“What’s up?”

“I saw the way you looked at her yesterday,” she begins, tapping her fingernails against the carpet. “So either you know how you feel or you’re in denial, but you need to tell her. One or both of you are going to get hurt by the end of this if you’re not honest with each other.”

“I appreciate the advice, Chae, but I’m not sure you have all of the facts.” Chenle crosses his arms over his chest.

“And what am I missing?” she asks.

“Honestly, you may know some things, but you’ll never know all of it,” he replies. “It’ll never be an easy situation to digest, but we’re best friends. We’re mature enough to handle this.”

“You realize if this all falls apart, it’s going to fuck up the rest of the group, too?” She frowns. “You guys aren’t really thinking this through.”

Right when Chenle goes to answer her, the front door opens, and he hears your conversation with Heewon spill through the house.

“Thanks for your concerns.” Chenle nods once before turning around to find you.

Day 17 | June 17th

Chenle throws his head back, hand tangled in your hair as you take his cock in your mouth. He sits on the edge of the bed and you kneel before him, drooling over his length. Your moans vibrate around him. This is the first time you’ve sucked him off, but he’s already found out this is as addicting as everything else.

“That’s it.” He allows his eyes to flutter shut and his eyebrows furrow the closer he gets. “You always take my cock so well, Sunshine.”

You whine, and his hips buck, slamming his tip into the back of your throat. You constrict around him, and his grip on your head tightens. God, he can’t fucking think straight around you. Your nails dig into his thighs, and despite choking around him, you continue bobbing your head up and down.

The base of his length starts to tingle, and he tugs your hair gently. “Gonna cum, baby, you don’t have to—fuck.”

Your response is to simply hollow your cheeks, the lewd sounds around the two of you almost loud enough to make him worry about others hearing it. The suction from your mouth has him approaching his high rapidly, and once you reach up to touch his balls, he cums in white spurts deep in your throat.

Day 18 | June 18th

“Chenle,” you whisper, leaning closer to him.

The summer wind brushes past the two of you sitting on the little porch connected to his bedroom. It’s the middle of the night, and the only thing covering you is a soft blanket. He has his own, but he regrets that. He wants to be wrapped up with you. The waves crash to the shoreline, the salty, ocean scent infiltrating everything around him.

“Yeah?”

“This is my favorite summer,” you tell him.

“Me too.” He squeezes your arm. “I’d stay just like this forever if I could.”

You make him open his arms before shifting yourself onto his lap and covering him with your blanket as you grind your bare body down onto his.

“What’s the likelihood they hear us out here?” you ask, leaning in to kiss along his neck.

“They’ve got a better chance of hearing us inside than this…” he trails off, wondering if he should really allow something like this to happen.

But soon enough, you kiss him for real. And when your lips are working on his, he’s inherently weak for you. It doesn’t take long for his cock to harden, and once it does, you line him up with your entrance.

“We don’t have a condom,” he chokes out, gripping your ass.

“Pull out when you’re about to cum, then,” you tell him. “If that’s okay?”

His hand finds the nape of your neck, pulling your mouth to his to seal his fate with a kiss. He guides you down on his cock, groaning at the feeling of taking you raw. You don’t even give yourself time to adjust, instead working your way through your sensitivity by bouncing on him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he reminds you. “Look at how well you take my cock.”

He’s learned so much about you during this short time, but he loves knowing what makes you crumble within minutes. His fingers wrap around your throat, and as he puts the perfect amount of pressure, your eyes roll and your hips work faster.

He tightens his grip, and your whine is interrupted. You show him no mercy, lifting and falling with such precision he wants to fill you up with his load.

The blanket is secure on your grip draping off of Chenle’s shoulders, so you nearly fall against him when his fingers connect with your clit. He’s teetering close to the edge, but he knows he has to pull out. No way is he cumming before you.

Your arousal makes him glide against your bud effortlessly, and he squeezes your throat harder at the same time.

“Chenle.” You gasp, pace changing as you get closer to your high. “Please cum inside. Need to feel your cum dripping out of m—fuck.” Your voice breaks as he thrusts up hard, hitting your spot. A broken moan escapes, nearly cut off by his grip on you, and your walls clamp down on his cock.

He watches you as he spurts his load and paints your insides, but all he sees is a blissed out smile and your heaving chest.

You slump against him and hum quietly. He grabs his blanket and wraps it around both of you, not wanting to leave you just yet. The summer breeze sweeps across the back of his neck, chilling the sweaty dampness.

He wants to tell you so badly.

He loves you. He wants to love you forever, but maybe he’ll only get these fleeting moments.

What a cruel, cruel summer this has become.

Day 19 | June 19th

The days pass so quickly. It’s been eighteen days since he first made you his, and all he wants is to make it last forever. The whole group goes to a movie theater, hopping between different rooms and films to catch a glimpse of everything that’s recently hit the big screens.

But he can’t take his eyes off of you.

The way you smile so widely in his direction. How all of your friends are so used to him being all over you.

Your laugh echoes around in his brain, and when the poor employee realizes what you’re doing, they try to stop you to figure out who you are. Chenle’s giggles join yours as he grasps your hand and pulls you toward the exit.

The two of you run, and with your fingers laced in his, you’re somehow separated from your friend group.

Once you’re outside, he presses your back to the brick of the building, kissing you in the midst of laughing. His hand latches onto the fabric of your shirt at the small of your back, and he works his lips on yours like magic.

How is he ever supposed to go back to normal after having you like this?

“Come on,” you tell him, grabbing his wrist and leading him away. “We’ve gotta find them.”

But he knows that no matter where you go, he’ll follow.

Day 20 | June 20th

He lost track of how many times his body has tangled with yours. How many times you’ve quietly, desperately called out his name while he takes you to new worlds you’ve never seen before.

He yearns to be grounded, to plant his feet back on Earth, but how does he do that when the universe that is you infiltrates his very being? All the stars and planets and milky ways and meteors float around in your dazed irises, and he caresses your face.

He loves you. He wants to tell you. He needs you to love him back.

Day 21 | June 21st

“Okay, this one is easy.” Donghyuck holds his hand up to reign in everyone’s excitement. “Never have I ever…kissed someone in the friend group.”

You glance at Chenle once, and he shrugs, so both of you lift your bottles. The point of this game? Get as drunk as possible. Every time someone says something you’ve done, you have to drink. Which means everyone is thoroughly surprised when every single person around the table sips from their cups.

“We’re the worst friend group,” Mark says, nearly hissing at the taste of the liquid burning down his throat. “We said ‘friends’ and turned it into an orgy.”

Heewon glares at him. “Dude.”

“Sorry.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender.

But soon enough, six pairs of eyes are on you and Chenle, and he immediately feels his face burning.

“You two want to explain?” Hyuck asks.

“Is everyone else explaining?” Chenle quirks an eyebrow, watching as Donghyuck purses his lips.

“No explanations unless you ask more questions,” you pipe up.

Chenle hopes that’ll divert the conversation from the two of you. His hand brushes over your knee under the table, and you send him a small smile.

“Fine,” Mark says. “Never have I ever kissed my best friend.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees you grab your bottle, so he doesn’t hesitate to do the same. He takes a fairly large drink, forcing the alcohol down his throat to make this night less painful.

Chaeyoung watches the two of you closely, and the rest of the group seems hyped up on adrenaline, like they’ve caught you and him in a lie of sorts. This news can’t be that shocking to them. Or maybe they’re all pining at the idea of being right.

But they’re not—you’re not in love with Chenle. Meaning, they’d be completely wrong.

Jaemin, who’s already had a bit too much from the hour of this game you’ve already been playing, laughs as he points at Chenle.

“I’ve got one.” He nods slowly, the smirk spreading across his face as he leans on Jeno’s shoulder. “Never have I ever had sex with my best friend.”

Your gasp is only audible to Chenle and Chaeyoung, who sits on the opposite side of you. Both you and Chenle are already holding your glasses, and you look at him, silently asking him if that’s something you should admit to the group.

You’re incredibly stiff, but Chenle watches as you slowly lift your hand. Before you get far, Chaeyoung smacks the back of Jaemin’s head.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” she hisses. “You can’t ask them things like that!”

Your cup lands back on the table louder than you planned. Chenle analyzes you, the stiffness of your back and the way you glance down at your lap instead of the rest of the group. His instinct makes him want to pull you away from them to somewhere you’ll be more comfortable.

“Oh, come on! They were about to admit to it.” Jaemin lets out a dramatic sigh. “Did you see the hesitation? They were seconds away from finally telling us if they’ve done it.”

Your hand lands on Chenle’s thigh, and he immediately knows what that means. A switch inside of him turns, and anger bubbles in his stomach. You’re his best friend, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else wants to know—the last thing he’ll let happen is any of them attempting to badger you into admitting something you don’t want the rest of the group to know.

“We’re all friends, why does it matter if we know or not?” Jeno agrees. “We’ve all been waiting for them to—”

“Knock it off,” Chenle deadpans, his voice dropping octaves. He leans forward, his arm crossing over you and his other hand gripping his bottle tighter. At the change in tone, everyone looks at him in shock, excitement fading into a nervous energy.

“Lighten up,” Donghyuck says. “They’re just joking—”

“Well, I’m not,” he replies, furrowing his eyebrows. “The hell’s wrong with you guys? You can’t tell when you’re making someone uncomfortable? Neither of us owe you anything, if you didn’t know that. You don’t need to know everything.”

“Okay,” Jaemin mumbles. “Didn’t know it was that big of a deal.”

“That’s because you don’t think, Jaemin. If anything happens between us that we want to share, we’ll share. But until then, mind your fucking business—”

“Lele,” you mutter to him, reaching forward to grasp his wrist in front of you. “Lele, it’s okay. They get it.”

He instantly relaxes at your words, running his tongue over his teeth as he rests back in his seat. You grasp his hand beneath the table and intertwine your fingers with his, rubbing your thumb against his skin.

“Sorry, (Y/N),” Jaemin says, fidgeting with his hands.

You give him an awkward smile and a nod. Chenle senses the atmosphere won’t return to the chaotic laughter it’d recently been filled with, so he wonders what’ll happen if he lets everyone know he’s taking you to bed.

When everyone resumes as much conversation as they can, Chenle leans in close to you to whisper in your ear. “Do you want to go to bed?”

It’s well past midnight, and the alcohol is starting to settle in his system. He is tired. You run your fingers through your hair and nod. He doesn’t say anything to the rest of the group, but you mutter something to Chaeyoung, who gives you a sympathetic smile and a nod.

Although he refrains from physically leading you away, he feels everyone’s eyes on the two of you. It shouldn’t upset him as much as it does. Plus, he wouldn’t mind all that much if they knew, but seeing the way it bothered you suddenly had him on ten. There was no other solution other than to put them all in their place.

Once you’re in the confines of his room, he pulls you into a hug. You melt in his embrace, your body basically limp. He rubs up and down your back, wishing he could take that feeling away from you for good. You deserve the best, and he wants to give it to you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I don’t know why they’d fucking do that.”

You shake your head. “They’d know eventually, right? We wouldn’t have been able to keep it a secret forever.”

“They should never push something like that. They’re supposed to be our friends, (Y/N). You were uncomfortable.”

“Le,” you say, pulling back to look at him. “As much as I appreciated you standing up for me, all I want right now is my best friend, okay? Just…be that guy, please.”

Both of you change into your pajamas, and then climb into bed. If you wanted him to be your best friend, he could do that. Hell, he’s spent his whole life basically doing it, so as he pulls you to his chest, it’s like muscle memory.

Everywhere Chenle is, you’re right there next to him. Never behind, never ahead, always beside.

“Chenle,” you whisper.

“Yeah, Sunshine?” He strokes your hair, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“I…Can you be my best friend and still kiss me?” you ask. “I don’t want anything else. Just kissing.”

He lifts your chin so you’re looking at him and gives you the faintest smile. “I can be whatever you want me to be.”

Your eyes swim with all sorts of emotions, and while he’d love to sit there and analyze each one of them, you allow them to flutter shut in anticipation of his kiss.

He can’t recall a time where he’s kissed you so gently, as if you might shatter beneath his touch. Placing his hand on the small of your back, he presses you flush against him while his mouth works so effortlessly on yours.

There’s no heat behind it. The only sounds are of the rustling of his sheets, the soft sighs, and his quiet compliments between breathing breaks. He allows himself to get lost in this, in the way it feels so different from every other kiss he’s shared with you.

Those kisses all lead to sex. They were a bridge to being physical, but now all he wants is to lie in this bed with you forever, connected in such a basic and innocent way.

“You make all of it better,” you murmur, inhaling deeply. “Everything I am is for you, Zhong Chenle.”

“And you’ve built me from the ground up,” he replies. “I was created for you. I don’t know who I am without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out.”

His heart runs rampant, doing all sorts of backflips in his chest. He starts to sweat even though he’s not physically exerting himself, and he desperately feels like he needs to grasp at something. If he doesn’t, he’ll fall…but can he even more than he already has?

Is falling in love something that happens gradually, continually, or is it all at once? Once you’ve fallen in love, can you still progress further into it, or is that feeling at its peak?

He thinks back to the first time he realized he wanted more from you. It’s been over a year since he admitted it to himself, and the person he was during that time never would believe that this is his life now.

“You promise?” Chenle’s nearly breathless, your words robbing him of the oxygen he needs to survive.

You smile ever so softly, nodding slowly. “I’m yours. Always.”

The promise sinks through his skin and into his bloodstream, flowing all the way through his body and infiltrating his brain. It means so much more to him than it means to you, he knows that, but he kisses you again anyway.

He kisses you over and over and over again. By the time the sun comes up in the morning, neither of you have slept, but your lips are swollen and your eyes are drooping.

No matter what, he’ll hold you to your word.

Day 22 | June 22nd

Two coffee cups steam from the table on Chenle’s patio. He sits, slumped, on the padded bench with you next to him, legs thrown over his lap. His thumb rubs your thigh. Exhaustion has yet to kick in, especially as he looks at you. Your hair is mussed, his T-shirt hanging off your shoulder and your shorts hiking up your thighs. Everything about this is domestic, and it makes his heart flutter.

He stayed up all night with you. The sunrise over the water leaves a calming wave cascading over him, and he gets an odd feeling that it’s all going to be okay.

He’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.

You bring the coffee cup up to your lips, sighing at the taste. He made it for you. But not only that, he made it the way you’ve always loved it. You told him once, and he never forgot. Every detail he learns about you is immediately stored in his memory.

“Maybe we should tell them,” you say, running your fingers through his hair. “That way, they’ll leave us alone. And whatever we’re doing would get a little easier.”

“Would it?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“None of this is easy.” Chenle gulps, wishing he had the filter necessary to make him bite his tongue right now. “What we’re doing isn’t easy. We don’t even know what it is, so why would we try to explain it to other people?”

“Oh.” You drink more, tired gaze turning to the ocean in the distance.

“It’s not a bad thing. I’m just being honest.”

“Yeah, no, honesty is good,” you agree. “You’re right.”

“(Y/N), I—”

“No.” You hold up your hand. “We said the end of the summer, so I get it. I’d rather wait anyway.”

He wants to grab you by the shoulders and shake you, telling you all the things he loves about you and how badly he wants you to be his forever.

“I’m gonna need six more cups of coffee.” You swing your legs off of him, and leave him sitting by himself, caught up in the warm, summer breeze the same way he’s caught up in you.

Day 25 | June 25th

Going out to the bar was the worst idea ever. The more you drank, the more you wanted to be all over Chenle. He didn’t mind it, but the more he drank, the more he wanted to touch you in ways that would have every saint covering their eyes.

You turn to face him, flashing lights reflecting off your skin as you dance with him. His brain is so clouded, so foggy, but he remembers you kissing him. He groaned into your mouth, pulling you closer and doing his best to maintain a rhythm with you. For a moment, he forgets that all of your friends are here too, but he has high hopes they’ll be too drunk to recall.

You pull away, jaw dropped as you remove his grasp on your and quickly stumble toward the exit. He curses under his breath, knowing he can’t let you go alone in a state like this. The world is tilting around him as he follows you, but he refuses to let you out of his sight. The protective urges come forward.

“(Y/N)!” he calls out to you as the two of you make it outside. “Hey! Stop it.”

“Leave me alone, Chenle.” The thickness of your voice has every last bit of alcohol drying up from his system. He jogs to catch up to you, grabbing your wrist and whirling you around to look at him.

Your eyes are bloodshot, tears falling down your cheeks.

“What’s wrong, Sunshine?” he whispers, tugging you to his chest. “God, are you okay?”

“‘M fine,” you reply, but your body shudders in his grasp.

“Come on.” He scoffs. “I didn’t stop being your best friend just because we’re sleeping together.”

You put your palm on your forehead, cursing under your breath. “I just kissed you in there. In front of everyone.”

“Yeah.” Chenle shrugs. “What’s wrong with that?”

“It was supposed to be simple,” you murmur, tugging on your hair with your fingers. “We were supposed to have fun this summer, and everything’s fucking falling apart—”

He recoils. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re gonna leave me.” Your voice breaks, and his heart right along with it.

“Why would you say something like that?”

“It’s all just—” you cut yourself off, clutching Chenle’s shirt. “Too much. I want you so fucking bad all the time.”

“Me too, baby, you know that.” He cups your cheeks, wiping your tears away. “I’m not going anywhere. No matter what happens, I’ll always be right next to you. Promise, Sunshine.”

His own eyes well at the sight, but he wonders what really brought all of this on. He presses his lips to your forehead, allowing them to linger there a moment too long. Pulling you close, his gaze turns toward the building, where Jaemin and Heewon stand. He gives them the best, watery glare he can, and they quickly shuffle back inside.

It’ll never be him who leaves you. If anyone were going to run away, it will absolutely be you.

And that crushes his heart even further. Beats it to a tiny pulp and straight up purees it until it’s mush.

He takes you home, puts you in bed, and spends half the night out on his patio, leaning on the wooden railing and watching the waves crash into the midnight shore.

The view from here gives him a glimpse of the driveway, and the rest of the group pulls in not even an hour later. He makes eye contact with Jaemin, and while the others head inside, Jaemin approaches him with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey,” Jaemin says softly. “You got a few minutes?”

Chenle looks inside at your sleeping form and gently closes the door with a sigh. “I’ve got nothing but time.”

“Look, man, we all get it.” Jaemin’s feet thud quietly on the creaky stairs as he makes his way up, stopping and leaning his back against the railing as he analyzes Chenle. “We love you guys. A lot. And something weird has been going on, and it’s not like we don’t notice.”

“A lot of weird has been going on,” Chenle says, chuckling to himself. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it. It’s just us now.”

The other man purses his lips, taking a deep breath of salty air. “You love her, don’t you?”

“I wish it were as simple as that.” He clasps his hands together, wondering how much he should say.

“It can be,” Jaemin replies. “You think she doesn’t love you?”

“I know she doesn’t,” he insists. “You don’t know her like I do.”

His friend nods, as if he’s conceding with what Chenle’s saying. But he knows better—Jaemin is good at these things. Regardless of whatever happened a few nights back, Jaemin is insightful when it comes to relationships despite not having much experience in that department.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, okay? But I know something is. And I notice (Y/N) talking to Chae a lot, but you never talk to anyone about serious things except for her. It’s okay to be confused and to want to talk about things.”

“She didn’t want anyone to know.” Chenle lets out a defeated sigh, allowing his head to hang between his shoulders.

“To know what?”

“We…” Chenle considers biting his tongue. At the end of the day, he knows he can trust Jaemin, and that he’d never do anything to betray Chenle’s trust, but the words leaving his mouth feel like a betrayal to you. “We’ve been hooking up, I guess.”

“Oh, like…more than once.” Jaemin blinks his shock away.

“Yeah. Like, the whole summer so far.” He runs his hands down his face. “We’d never done anything before, and I honestly didn’t think it would be a possibility. And then we did. And it was fast and not at all what I wanted it to be and just—sorry, Jaem.”

“No, no.” He gestures for him to continue. “Let it out. It’s good for you to process these things.”

“I thought I really fucked up by doing that, you know? She didn’t stay in my room with me that night, she didn’t even talk to me until the next day. Which maybe doesn’t seem bad, but it is for us. But then she said she wanted to do it again, and I…well, I obviously didn’t say no. Maybe I should have.” He picks at his nails, fighting hard with the lump lodged in his throat.

“Honestly, I’m having trouble figuring out why you won’t tell her how you feel.”

“If I tell her and lose her because of it, I genuinely don’t know how I’d live without her. She’s been in my life forever, Jaem. It’s not her fault I can’t keep myself in check,” he says.

“If she doesn’t realize you’re in love with her, she’s really fucking dense.” Jaemin chuckles to himself. “And you’re equally as dense for thinking that she doesn’t love you.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Yes, it is.”

“How?”

“Chenle, you’ve spent every day with her this summer. And I’m not going to pretend to know your business, but I’m sure all the alone time you’ve had hasn’t been innocent. Nobody in their right mind starts sleeping with their best friend without at least a little bit of a worry that they’ll fall in love. Come on, you two are practically dating already anyway.”

“It’s hard, okay?” Chenle brushes the other man off. “We said we’d talk about it at the end of the summer, so I’m gonna save my heart for a few more days.”

“It’s okay to be selfish sometimes.” Jaemin taps the railing once more before he starts his descent down the stairs. “You won’t get what you want if you’re sitting around and watching it pass you by.”

Day 26 | June 26th

He told himself he would hold off on any more physical stuff before he was able to talk to you about what happened last night, but that was…apparently…short lived. Your chest presses against his, both of you on your sides as he gently massages your ass. You made it a point this morning to grind back against him until he was hard and aching. He’s not entirely sure how he’s avoided exactly this for so long.

He pulls your leg up on his waist, stretching you as he rubs his cock against your folds. You moan into his mouth as your slickness coats him, signaling to him that you’re more than ready to take everything he has to offer.

After a few moments of shifting, his tip enters you. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he thrusts the head of his cock in and out. Chills already break out along his body, his palms sweaty as he teases you.

“Please,” you whimper. “I need more.”

“Greedy girl,” he scolds you, slowly pushing all the way in. “Pretty baby just wants to be full, huh?”

“Only you,” you mumble, nearly incoherently as you try to rock your hips. “Only greedy for you.”

Under normal circumstances, he’d care about the sound of the bed squeaking, or the way the headboard taps the wall with each of his thrusts, but all he’s thinking about is fucking good this position allows him to feel you.

After fucking you raw, the condom almost hinders the feeling of you clenching around him, but he tries to focus on giving you as much pleasure as he can.

“C’mon, tell me what you want.” Chenle bucks his hips hard, making you whine.

“Touch me. Wanna cum.” Your head lolls forward, forehead smacking into his chest.

“Touch you where, baby?” He pushes you further. “You’re already soaking my cock, what else could you need?”

“Lele, please—”

“I’ll stop,” he warns you. “Neither of us will finish if you don’t use your words.”

Dazed, you let out a frustrated moan, and he smirks at you.

“M-my clit,” you whisper. “Please touch me there.”

Your arousal squelches around him with each of his thrusts, and you squirm as you yearn for your orgasm that’s just out of reach. He considers teasing you more, but you look so fucking good like this, walls pulsing and begging for release, he can’t deny you.

His hand snakes down your body, and he kisses your jawline. “Don’t cum ‘til I say you can, okay? I’d hate to punish you when you’ve done so well so far.”

“If y—fuck.” You cut yourself off when his finger comes in contact with your swollen, aching bud, and your nails scratch down his back. He knows you won’t be able to hold back if he touches you in the right way.

“You gotta wait for me, baby, I’m almost there.” He thrusts harder, the creak of the bed becoming more prominent as he continues barely rubbing your clit.

“Lele.” You clench your eyes shut. “I c-can’t, oh my God.”

“But you’re so good.” He slams his hips against yours. “So fucking good, just a little longer.”

Your entire body shakes. He didn’t think he’d ever find something like this so arousing, but when you look at him and your eyes are welled with tears from your need, he curses, thrusts one more time, and cums hard into the condom when he’s buried deep inside you.

He can’t remember the last time he came this much, and he wishes he didn’t have this stupid fucking piece of rubber on. The idea of painting your insides white has him thrusting through his overstimulation to bring you to your peak.

He applies more pressure to your clit, pinching it, rubbing it until you bite down on his shoulder hard as your walls and body convulse in his grasp. Cursing at the jolt of pain he feels, he moans when he realizes how it adds to his pleasure.

“Holy shit,” he whispers as you let go of him.

“Asshole.” You laugh, attempting to catch your breath.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, scratching up and down your back. “It felt like you liked it.”

“Yeah, I hope that bite mark scars permanently.”

“Laying claim on me, are you?”

Oh, how he wishes you would.

Day 28 | June 28th

Today is arguably Chenle’s favorite day of the summer. Ironic, since it’s the second to last full day he has with all of his friends, but the tradition set is what makes him think this way.

A bonfire crackles in front of him, his arm over your shoulder as everyone stands around the climbing orange flame. The goal is each person writes all of their regrets down from the past year, and what they hope to accomplish over the next, and then they burn it. It’s an odd positivity ritual that none of them have ever skipped.

Chenle wrote his down the night before after you fell asleep.

Regrets:

I regret not telling (Y/N) I love her. Again.

I regret not seizing every opportunity that presents itself to me.

I regret wasting my life away while everything I’ve ever wanted is right in front of my eyes.

I regret shutting down and allowing my friends to help me.

I regret not advancing in my chosen career path.

Hopes:

I hope I will be able to express myself thoroughly.

I hope I will be able to tell (Y/N) my feelings.

I hope those feelings will be reciprocated.

I hope, above all, that she’s happy.

He glances around, taking a look at everyone around him. Jaemin, Jeno, Heewon, Donghyuck, Mark, Chaeyoung, and even you. Each person has had such a fundamental hand in the making of the person he is today, and a lot of times, he takes that for granted.

“Okay, who wants to go first?” Mark asks.

“I will,” you say, stepping up.

Chenle watches you with adoration, wishing he could move forward with you, but knowing there are some times where you have to shine on your own.

“Another year.” You clear your throat. “All of you mean the world to me. You helped me when I was twelve and in desperate need of a confidence boost, and you help me now at twenty-three when sometimes all I need is a drink and a cookie.”

A chorus of laughter falls from everyone.

“Mark, thank you for all of the midday pep-talks and reality checks. Jeno, thank you for being the comedic relief right when I always need it. Jaemin, thank you for always knowing what to say, no matter the situation. Chae, thank you for saving me from myself more times than I can count. Hyuck, thank you for knowing exactly when I want ice cream and a rant session. Heewon, thank you for never judging me despite my shit decisions.”

You turn back to Chenle, the gleam in your eye reflecting the billions of stars from the sky above.

“Chenle, thank you for never underestimating me and for knowing me better than I know myself. For all of the years we’ve had, and all the ones we will have.”

“You’ve got all of mine,” Chenle says to you.

With a final grin, you take your folded up piece of paper out of your pocket and toss it into the fire, and everyone watches as it burns to ash. Once you’re satisfied, you move back to Chenle and hug him tightly.

He deflates in your grasp, cradling the back of your head and relishing in the weight of your words.

Mark goes next, then Hyuck, Chae, Heewon, Jaemin, and Jeno, leaving Chenle to be the last one. He purses his lips, twirling his own note in his fingers as he glances over his shoulder at you.

It takes him a while to think of what he wants to say despite the fact he’s been looking forward to this since the vacation started. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the smokiness of the air mixed with ocean salt, and really, truly thinks of how he’s made it as far as he has.

“Well, guys, another year down.” He shakes his head as he thinks of how fast time passes. “Life wouldn’t be the same without you guys. We get busy throughout the year, but I’m really happy we get to spend this time here and that we’re able to be together this entire month. Everyone has their unique roles in this friend group, and it’d be incredibly off if any one of us weren’t here. So, my thank you is for all of you, for being there for me and making this little bunch into a family. ‘Cause that’s what you guys are. You’re my family.”

He glances back at you much like you had done to him, and he’s met with your dazzling smile. His nerves calm at the sight, and he chews the inside of his cheek as he tosses his paper into the flame.

It’s like he physically feels the hurt, regret, and carelessness from the past year lift off his shoulders, intertwine with the smoke, and disappear. He feels lighter, like he can take on the world. And in this moment, when he sees you staring at him with such adoration, he knows that now is the moment.

No time will ever be the right time, and he’ll never have courage if he doesn’t push himself.

He walks back to you, hands in his pockets. “(Y/N), can I talk to you over there for a minute?”

You nod, and as he guides you a safe distance away, he meets Jaemin’s gaze. The grin of approval is all he needs, and the other man makes sure the friend group is paying attention to him instead of you and Chenle.

“What’s up?” you ask, tilting your head. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m alright.” He pauses and reaches over to grab your hand. “I just…One of my regrets last year was not having courage, and not being able to ask for the things I want because I wasn’t…ready for them, I guess.”

You nod, urging him to continue.

“You’re my best friend. All of this stuff we’ve been through this summer, I need you to know that’ll never change no matter what. If I didn’t have you in my life, I think I’d be screwed.” He chuckles, the nerves gnawing away at his throat and making his voice shake. “This has been the best month of my life, honestly, but I shouldn’t have gone into something like this without being completely transparent.”

To that, you frown, but wait for him to continue.

He takes a moment to work up the strength to tell you, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. His hands shake, and he feels faint, but he knows it’s now or never. He can’t let you leave this place for another year without knowing the truth.

“I…I’m in love with you. And I have been for so long, but I didn’t want to ruin this. When all of this started, I wanted to tell you no because I thought I’d end up getting hurt because of it all. And maybe I still will, but at least now you’ll know the truth.”

He’s not sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t you starting to laugh. His gaze darts back up to yours, and your head is in your hands.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “If that’s not what you wanted, we can still be—”

“Zhong Chenle, you are far too dense for your own good.” You beam at him, reaching up to cup his cheeks and pull him in for a kiss.

He’s in shock at first, but after a second, he’s pulling you as close to him as possible. You swallow his sigh of relief, and when he moves back, he sees the tear streaks down your face.

“Hey, none of that,” he whispers, wiping them away.

“I love you, Chenle,” you tell him. “I’ve wanted to tell you for so fucking long—”

You cut yourself off by connecting your lips to his again, giggles interrupting you every so often.

The rest of the group cheers and yells by the fire, clearly not one of them surprised by this outcome. He leads you back to them, fingers interlocked tightly and a permanent smile etched on his face.

For the rest of the night, he doesn’t let you go. He holds you close, kisses you all over your face, and squeezes you.

He loves you.

He’s in love with you, and you’re not going anywhere.

If this is the cruelest summer he ever has to endure, he’s more than ready for the rest of them.

#nct dream #chenle #nct #nct imagines #nct dream smut #nct scenarios #chenle smut #chenle fluff #chenle angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #nct smut #nct fluff #nct angst #chenle x reader #chenle imagine #chenle imagines

[foreverdolly]

baby fever | daddy!austin x mommy!reader

yet another request from my "three days of blurbs" event. i'm expanding this event in a very exciting way. so be on the lookout for that announcement.

request: just more daddy austin pls ! and then another person requested the same thing saying: how are daddy!Austin and mommy!reader doing? how is the baby?

requested by: anon and @stephthestallion

word count: 1.3k

warnings/notes: a whole year later and austin is sitting across from the same interviewer who officially broke the big news about the birth of his first child. austin's ready to gush some more about his little family. basically tooth rotting fluff. austin is the best dad and husband. basically part two to 'baby bliss'.

“Here we are, Austin.” The interviewer shuffled her question cards around in her hands, smiling down at her lap for a few moments as she readied herself. “Last week marked an entire year since our last interview.” The woman looked a tad bit older. She wasn’t decked out in bright colors and tight fitting clothes like the last time around, rather she looked well put together and business casual. The years had changed her, and for the better it would seem. 

It was hilarious to look back on last year's interview. He remembered how much he had been dreading it. How he had doubted the interviewers integrity and her ability to carry herself professionally. This time around he felt relaxed in his folding chair, his ring clad fingers gripping onto the wooden armrests so that he could pull himself up a little higher so that he could straighten out his broad shoulders.  He didn’t need to look at his manager to know that she was smiling. Todays interview felt light and carefree, and for once Austin didn’t feel nervous in the least to answer questions about his life. 

“One whole year, huh? Time flies by when you’re having fun. . . or something along those lines.” He flashed a smile before laughing at his own awkwardness. 

It was odd to think about how far he had come since the Elvis movie. He’d been a part of so many projects since then. It really had been his big break, and he was thankful for that. The blessings in his life had been immeasurable after the film. To say that time flew by would be an understatement. 

Taking care of business in a flash. 

He smiled fondly down at his boots, clearing his throat as he readied himself for more questioning. He was prepared today for the more personal direction that this interview would be sure to lean towards. Austin could be a very private man, but he had gotten the go ahead from his wife to discuss the smaller details of their life. Gushing over his son just so happened to be his favorite pastime. 

“A ton has happened in this last year for you. Awards, new movies, cameos in television shows, partnerships- through all of these personal triumphs for austin, do you still feel even slightly influenced by Elvis? Or was that just a necessary phase in your life that’s come and gone?” 

Austin straightened out his jacket, as he leaned an elbow on the armrest, shifting his weight from one hip to the other. The director style chair was horrifically uncomfortable and dug into his thighs. 

“I’m not Elvis, but I dedicated almost three years of my life to becoming him. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to shake him and all of his mannerisms, if that’s what you're asking. He feels like less of a role that I played and more like a family member to me now. Like an older brother, or even a best friend. I’ve never truly loved someone that I’ve never met before, but that’s Elvis for me.” 

She nodded her head, shooting him a warm smile before switching to another card. 

“The interview that I did with you practically broke the internet. Still, to this day, it’s the video that has the most views on our channel.” 

Austin nervously chuckled, using his hand to gently pinch the soft skin of his bottom lip, shaking his head in disbelief. It was still crazy to think that he went from being a low paid actor who could only book romcom gigs to this. Gone were the days of playing the doting boyfriend in cheesy television shows. He still felt like he was dreaming when he was reminded of his influence. He mumbled a quick “that’s insane” before she continued. 

“You announced that your wife had her baby, so I was hoping that you’d fill us in a little. What’s going on in the Butler household? What’s new?” 

He had been prepared for the personal questions, as was his wife. 

“Y/N’s doing really great. She started up her own business about two months after Finn was born, and it’s just exploded for her. I’m incredibly proud of her. She was always into metal work, but seeing how her jewelry brand has taken off? I’m just in awe of her.” Austin could talk about his other half for hours. Y/n never ceased to amaze him. Everything she did just sparkled to him. He still had to pinch himself sometimes, just to make sure that he hadn’t dreamed her up. “Finn also just celebrated his first birthday, and that just absolutely blows my mind. I’d be lying if I said that the wife and I didn’t cry. He got so big and so fast. Too fast for my liking.” 

“Do you like being a dad? You used to be pretty inactive on your social media accounts, but you post about your family pretty consistently. From the outside looking in your life looks perfect. We’re all so happy for you.” 

“I love being a dad and I love being a husband. When you find the person that you want to spend your life with, it never feels like settling. I don’t miss the bachelor days at all.” Austin’s rings glimmered in the bright set lighting as he continued to talk with his hands. “If anything, I’m relieved that they’re over. It’s like I’m just now starting to live my life. These last few months have been incredibly busy, but with the holidays coming up I’m just happy to have a little break.” Thankfully he didn’t have any interviews or shoots booked for the two weeks leading up to Christmas. He was ready to give his little family his full and undivided attention. 

“Do you have some things planned for the holidays?” She asked, setting her cards down. It seemed like they were getting off topic, but the interviewer didn’t seem to mind. 

“Tons, actually. Y/n grew up with fake Christmas trees, so it’s become a Butler family tradition to go and get a real fur tree. Some of our family are going to be visiting, so our guest rooms will be occupied for the first time in a while. She’s been decorating the house nonstop. She’s always been crazy about celebrating, which I appreciate more than she knows. It’s special every year.”  

The interviewer asked a few more questions regarding his current projects, and he divulged all that he could. The small piece of paper was starting to feel heavy in his pocket, and he was beginning to get more and more nervous as the minutes ticked by. Him and his wife had been planning something special. 

One year later. 

Doing it this way felt right. 

“Well it was a pleasure, as always, to speak with you, Austin. Super quick, tell the people where they can find you and what you’re working on.” 

“I’m on instagram. I really only post about my projects and family, so I’m pretty boring. And,” He lifted up in the seat, shoving his hand into his back pocket so that he could pull out a piece of paper to flash at the camera- and his manager who stood behind it. “We’re currently working on baby number two.” 

He watched his manager’s jaw drop as she stared at the sonogram picture, quickly blinking away excited tears. There, in black and white, was a picture of their new baby. “R-Really?” She screamed out excitedly. 

“We’re having a valentines day baby. We wanted to keep it a surprise until now.” 

And after the cameras had been cut and he had been properly scolded by his suddenly emotional manager, Austin found himself eagerly hoping back into his car. 

And just like last year he sped home. Eager to get to his baby boy and his two bestest girls.

@knoxvillesshoes@cosmorant@ol1viam@simply-sams-things@haim80s@gabbcabb@8hgel@slutt4him@busy-bee-angel-misska@kaitaesupremacy@dazedshoon @4rt3m1ss@cryingabtab@kittenlittle24@austinsrealgf@austinbutlersgirlfriend@clearbolts @dark-as-love@anni-secret-account-75@ab4eva@starcatchxr @julietamidala @obbsessivereader@gwuide@blurredcolour@the-little-red-haired-girl@meladollsims@poppet05@shrekstheloml@randomwriter888@idc123sworld@vane28282@mirandastuckinthe80s@girlblogger2002@rockerchick05@screechingstrawberrysong@simpforevery1@girlabirla@dre6ming@obetrolncocktails@fairyjanes@jensenswinchester@lo-bells @in-my-body-bag@fxntxsix@petrparkrslut@eliseinmemphis @lelifesaver @screaching-cookie@fantuhsise@areuirish @bcofl0ve@mslizziesblog@shynovelist@ssstrangersblog @harrysthecraic@hangmanswhore@jyvnho@mymamalife @melodydior

#dolly’s three days of blurbs #foreverdolly #austin butler one shot #austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #austin butler fluff #daddy!austin butler #dad austin butler #austin butler imagine #elvis 2022 #elvis movie #elvis baz luhrmann #tooth aching fluff #fluff #imagine #austin x reader #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #reader insert

[keanureevesisbae]

endeavors #15 - the end

Summary: How are Grace and August doing now?

August Walker x Grace Stanford (asian ofc)

Wordcount: 0.7k

Warning: Mentions of sex, just the usual they do. Sex, cum, orgasms, squirting. You know the deal with them.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this fic! I hope you enjoyed it 😘

Masterlist // endeavors masterlist

5 years later

August and I started dating after the rooftop confession and he was right: we skipped over the awkward first phase and we were passed uncomfortable sex. August wouldn’t be August if he didn’t make a program—quite frankly he is obsessed with them—but I have to agree: the program worked. He planned dates, fun holidays and meetings to get to know each other’s family. Our friends already knew this was going to happen eventually and his friends had to confess they know what August did that time they were over.

I’ve gotten over that awkwardness eventually. 

A lot of the things in those five years remained. I still didn’t wear my underwear at home, he fucked me whenever he wanted and we ventured out to have sex in public, though the rooftop remained our favorite. Visitations to the sex shop. A show with the dildo. Deep throating.

It was all part of his program and for that I love him dearly.

After he and I got married two years ago, we moved out of the apartment and bought a house, like the domestic couple we were. Days were spend in bed and with each other. Quite frankly we’re disgusting together, cockwarming whenever we can, sex while we know friends can come over at any time and him desperate to make me squirt. 

I hold onto the bathroom counter, feeling his entire cock thrust in a rough pace inside. I watch my breasts bounce with every thrust through the mirror. August gently takes a hold of my hair, giving it a slight pull. I whimper when I start clenching around him.

‘Good girl,’ he says. ‘Cum for me once more, okay?’

And that pushes me over the edge. He holds me up by my hips, snickering softly when I squirt passed his cock. And it’s enough for him to reach his high and ride it out. He presses kisses on my shoulder, whispering sweet little nothings against my skin. He pulls out and like he always does, cleans me up straight away.

Together we walk towards the bed and because it’s too hot to wear clothes anyway (and August likes for us to sleep with nothing on, seizing every opportunity to have me naked around him), I don’t even bother putting on a shirt. 

Once he tugged me underneath the thin sheets, he kisses my forehead and tells me he’ll be right back, leaving our bedroom to go to the kitchen.

My hand slides to my protruding stomach, revealing a five month baby bump. It was both a surprise and expected when we found out we were having a baby. August always said that babies were something of the future, but as we set more steps into the future, his desire for kids grew. While I was ready for them years ago, I needed him to be one hundred percent on board with it.

And boy, is he board with it. 

August walks back in with some biscuits and some juice and places it on my nightstand. Then he climbs in the bed and says: ‘You know what genuinely surprised me.’

‘Enlighten me.’

‘That it took us this long to knock you up.’

‘Ovulation is a thing, August,’ I tell him. ‘You can’t expect me becoming pregnant if you fill me up every moment you’ve got to spare.’

‘Was worth a shot and you did not complain.’ He smirks proudly and places his hand on my stomach. ‘And you will never hear me complaining about this skyrocketing sex drive of yours. Is this libido permanent or not?’

I shrug. ‘You have to leave me alone for at least six weeks after the baby is here.’

He nods. ‘I’ll work ahead, drag as many orgasms out of you as possible now, so we can take a six week break.’ He snaps his finger. ‘You what? I’ll make a schedule.’

‘Shut up,’ I laugh and he leans in for a long kiss. ‘If you kiss me any longer, you might have to fuck me again.’

‘You know I’ve got plenty ways to satisfy you,’ he says. ‘But you need your rest, Grace.’

I roll my eyes, before sliding down so I can lay on my side. He spoons me almost instantly, his hand on my stomach and I whisper: ‘I love you, August Walker.’

He kisses my naked shoulder. ‘I love you more, Grace Walker.’

To a happily ever after. 

﹌﹌

endeavors taglist: @diegos-butt // @thelastsock // @liecastillo // @mis-lil-red // @sofiebstar // @abschaffer2 // @crazybutconfidentaf // @summersong69 // @gearhead66 // @xobriellaxo24 // @kebabgirl67 // @eldarwen333 // @kingliam2019 // @cherry-gemz // @sillyrabbit81 // @enchantedbytomandhenry // @lyrarodriguez // @islacharlotte // @sunshine96love // @oddsnendsfanfics // @xuxszx // @omgkatinka // @pterodactylterrace / @peaches1958 // @pandaxnienke // @teamfan7asy // @raccoon-eyed-rebel // @geralts-yenn

#august walker #august walker fanfiction #august walker x ofc #august walker x asian ofc #august walker x grace stanford #august walker smut #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill #asian ofc #grace stanford #endeavors

[magnorious]

Am I The Only One Who Didn’t Want More Loki?

Loki, up to Infinity War, was probably my favorite MCU character. He was wildly entertaining and Tom Hiddleston portrayed him with such charisma that he was more likable than the protagonists from time to time. I remember all the fanfics post-Avengers posing what-ifs, that Loki was the unwitting victim of Thanos’ larger plan, that he himself was under control of the scepter. Redemption arcs and FrostIron all over the place.

Even when his arc yo-yo’d around from actual growth to being flung back to the same damn shenanigans over and over again. Even when they kept killing him just to bring him back. The Dark World managed to be not a complete disaster of a movie for one singular reason: The criminally brief team-up between Thor and his brother. I rewatch that movie now only for those scenes.

I don’t love Ragnarok, but it’s grown on me over the years, mostly thanks to Loki. I wanted to see if they’d finally make him a reluctant Avenger. He’d have been an incredibly powerful asset to the team and the drama and comedy potential sitting right there for the taking could have made for some excellent growth for the entire core team. Imagine the potential if he’d survived the Snap and the remaining Avengers had to accept his help because he was all they had left? Imagine if it was Thor and Loki that had to go to Vormir, instead of Clint and Natasha? Imagine Thor grieving the real, final death of his brother and the rest of the team, who still never trusted him, trying to put aside their differences to keep Thor from falling apart? If Endgame was supposed to be a swan song for the original cast, Loki should have been part of it.

But Endgame came and went. And then “Loki” happened.

“Loki” happened to debut at that phase of Disney+ when “MCU fatigue” was still just the unfounded complaints of an unhappy few. We hadn’t yet experienced bomb after bomb of disappointed and disjointed messes that became Phase 4. If something was bad, well, that was the exception. It would get better.

Between Loki and Wandavision, and Hawkeye and Moonknight, Loki was the only post-Endame property I was excited to see (excluding SpiderMan). So I ignored all the marketing and waited for most of the episodes to air before sitting down to watch.

And… *wow* was that story awful. I can’t be the only one who looked at the Loki on screen and thought “That’s not Loki. That’s fanfiction.”

Can I?

Complaints about the show have been done to death but one point I haven’t seen raised much is what made me quit the show, and Phase 4: Loki was basically aro/ace for 7 entire years of MCU… until he wasn’t, in about the worst way possible.

I know comics Loki is different (and in mythology). I know he was never explicitly aro/ace. I know the MCU has never handled romance well. But we take what we can get, can’t we?

From his introduction in Thor, Loki has never been motivated by lust or romance. All he’s ever wanted is respect, power, and to escape Thor’s shadow. He lasted 7 whole years, four movies, with no need for romance. They could have written something awkward in The Dark World between him and Jane, or given more subtext to him and Black Widow in Avengers, or even him and Valkyrie in Ragnarok. Only they didn’t.

He never had a monologue about wanting to settle down with a pretty girl (or guy). Was never made to look jealous over Thor’s suitors. Was never bitter at not having a love life. Romance did not matter to his character, and no one in the audience thought he was lacking because of it. Loki was, for all intents and purposes, aro/ace for his entire arc until his death in Infinity War.

So I’m watching his little mini-series and, already, the idea of taking 2012 Loki and injecting him with a little video montage of the Real Loki’s development, and trying to pretend that will work, should have been all I needed to know about the trajectory of the series.

Then Sylvie showed up. Her with her magic powers just like Loki’s, a spitfire attitude and curly blonde hair. My first thought was: “Oh my god it’s a young Frigga!”

Frigga, who, in Endgame, had her attendants make sure her adoptive son was entertained in his cell, who taught him magic, about the only soul on Asgard he really gave a shit about when she died, and the only soul on Asgard who gave a shit about him.

The second I saw her, I thought the whole “video montage of character growth” shot was just a little bit of groundwork, reminding the audience of how different 2012 Loki was from the one we’d watched since Avengers. I thought the rest of the series would be about him and young Frigga redeeming this version of her son before he could make the same mistakes the original Loki did. I thought, surely, this is how he becomes a full-fledged Avenger.

Frigga can still die in the end, and he can get the goodbye he deserved, since I’m pretty sure he wasn’t allowed at his own mom’s funeral. The core, the soul of this series, would be that doomed mother-son relationship we were robbed of for shock value in Dark World (I still stand by that a witch as powerful as she was getting stabbed in the back by some grunt is an insult to her character).

Then Loki and Sylvie had that horribly paced episode on Purple Planet (whose name escapes me) and I picked up on the vibes going down and thought… oh no. Oh she’s his love interest. Oh they’re really gonna put him through a rushed, by-the-numbers, bickering-rivals-to-lovers plot. This isn’t Frigga. It’s really just a female him tossing a rotten bone to the LGBTQ Community with a cheap throwaway line.

I still can’t decide which kiss was more cringey, Loki/Sylvie, or Rey/Kylo in Rise of Skywalker.

“Cosmic Narcissism” indeed. Whose idea was it to not only give Loki a love interest he never needed, but make it a female version of himself? Perhaps having Tom Hiddleston kiss an actual clone of himself would have been too off-putting for conservative viewers, but Owen Wilson’s character was right there. Instead, they *wink, wink, nudge, nudge* a hint that Loki’s bi without committing to the bit, ignore an actual interesting same-sex relationship, to have him fall for Sylvie, as if she was everything missing in his life this whole time.

If you ignore how bizarre it is that they decided the perfect love interest for Loki was himself. If you ignore how they kicked Mobius to the curb. If you ignore the abysmal development they actually gave the relationship… Loki was a beloved character long before he ever had a love interest.

He didn’t need Sylvie. He didn’t need Mobius. He had motivations, he had other relationships they could have strengthened. He had a rich history, and future, within the MCU. He was, at least to me, my aro/ace icon, and he could have kept right on being that with zero effort or input from Disney. They didn’t have to slap an ace flag over his poster and incur the wrath of the anti-woke. Loki was *fine*.

Instead, what we got was a thousands-year-old mage who forgot he has powers until it was convenient for the plot. We got a character robbed of 5 years of development who didn’t once consider that the clip show might’ve been an illusion. Loki’s supposed to be cunning, quick-witted, silver-tongued. He’s supposed to be a bit selfish and arrogant and flimsy with his loyalties. He’s supposed to be a self-serving asshole until he feels safe enough to let his guard down. He’s supposed to let ego and pride get in the way of humility and admitting when he’s wrong. He’s supposed to be his own worst enemy.

Which… I suppose, by having Sylvie betray him in a scene everyone saw coming, fulfills that one aspect of his character.

I haven’t seen the trailers for season 2, but if the last few MCU releases are anything to go by, it’ll just be more of the same. I love Loki’s character, but satisfaction is the death of desire, and he should have had the curtains drawn in Endgame.

#loki series #loki #sylvie #mcu #lgbtq #ace pride

[hekateinhell]

♡ + Armand/Lestat

I didn't realize you'd reblogged this meme and now you gotta feed me in return 😾 (and if someone else has asked for them in VC then I wanna know about them in your high school au)

babe you get my entire kitchen, apartment, whatever you want 🥹 LOL you already know the whole arc I have planned for them in the sequel but I'll stay in context of where we saw them last on ao3 -- their mutual boyfriend's name freshly tattooed on both their asses and Armand struggling to admit to Lestat that he loves him as well, before Lestat (for once), did the hard part for him.

• Who is the most affectionate?

Lestat.

Armand is incredibly insecure about just how much he's 'allowed' to touch him in public and in private so he doesn't readily initiate -- he doesn't want to rock the boat now that Louis's other boyfriend seems to have finally accepted him (he doesn't entirely trust Lestat's drunken and endorphin-fueled love confession).

Lestat's trying to navigate the awkward 'undefined' stage as well, but in the meantime, he'd like everyone else to know in no uncertain terms that this one also belongs to him. He's living his dream with one arm around Louis's waist and the other draped over Armand's neck. Everyone knows Lestat and Louis have been an on/off item, everyone knows Armand and Louis have also been an item for a while now, Lestat would like the world to know that he and Armand are also... something.

He just doesn't know what yet but if he could mark Armand like a dog in public, he would. It means the world to him that Armand never gave him back his leather jacket after that night and wears it to school every day even though it's much too baggy on him and reaches precisely down to his thighs. To Lestat's eighteen-year-old brain, they're practically engaged as long as Armand holds on to that jacket.

• Who initiates the handholding?

See above.

Poor Lestat has to instigate literally everything right now. Oh no, it's not going to cause any problems down the line, why would it? 😔

• Who worries more for the other?

Armand worries about Lestat living on his own since his mother bailed and left him alone with an empty house. Lestat doesn't... do well alone. He'll invite anyone over to hang out and party if Armand and Louis just can't be there; bad things happen.

• Who is more likely to ask for help?

Directly? Neither of them. But Lestat's much more prone to purposely and consciously acting out in the hope someone will notice and help him. Armand will just pretend Bad Things Aren't Happening.

• Who is the one always losing the keys?

Lestat loses everything that isn't physically attached to his person. Sometimes he forgets where he parked his car and that's his baby.

• Who leaves little love notes for the other?

They're in the same grade (even though Lestat's older, Armand skipped a year and Lestat got held back a year) so Armand and Louis typically share their notes with Lestat who has a terrible fucking time focusing during class (it's the ADHD and dyslexia). He'd much rather and much more easily fill a notebook with lyrics and random doodles for his dream album covers.

When Armand knows Lestat will actually be reading over his notes later (only under threat of a quiz or an exam -- he would like to graduate this year, thank you very much), he works in little quotes from his favorite love poems or songs.

He hopes Lestat knows it's intentional that Armand penned out the entire [love is more thicker than forget] in the margins, that Armand was thinking of him when he wrote it and not just scribbling because he's bored. Don't judge him; we all went through our E.E. Cummings phase.

• Who can't sleep unless the other is there?

Armand is an anxious sleeper and his home life in foster care isn't... great, so he spends at least half of his day at school catching up on sleep. He gets his best sleep in the library on someone's lap; out on the field using Lestat's stomach as a pillow while they lay out on the grass away from everyone else; in the backseat of Lestat's car with Louis's crumpled-up sweater as a pillow and Lestat's jacket as a blanket.

Armand would never sleep in front of other people, but on a mostly subconscious level, he feels safest just knowing Lestat's around -- a 6ft, 175-pound German Shepard that for some reason is personally interested in him right now.

(Though I have to say, Lestat loves when Armand can sleep over at his house, for many reasons aside from the obvious.)

• Who is more likely to propose to the other?

Considering how Armand drunkenly and brazenly asked Lestat to fuck him before they've ever done it, I'm going to say Armand. Whoops...

Let's hope when Armand proposes it goes better than the 'fuck me' conversation did.

• Who introduced the other to their family first?

Neither of their family is in the picture at the moment, so we're going to thrust this onto Louis.

Technically, Lestat and Armand knew of each other and had seen each other around the school before, but the day Louis formally introduced them to each other as his boyfriends was interesting -- in fact, it went something like...

Armand: [spit, hissss] 😾😾😾

Lestat: the fuck.

• Who is more likely to play with the other's hair?

Lestat loves playing with Armand's hair while Armand's napping. He has a shit ton of nervous energy that needs an outlet and he always has to have his hands busy with something, plus he'll make up literally any and every excuse to touch Armand.

• Who makes sure the other has meals/stays hydrated?

Lestat knows about Armand's home life and that he can't always afford to buy lunch at school, so he usually grabs him something from the deli when he goes for himself. He buys something for Louis too so Armand doesn't feel awkward and singled out; it makes Lestat feel good to be in any sort of big manly provider role and it doesn't hurt that Armand flutters his lashes at him and playfully licks his lips as he whispers 'thank you.'

• Who is more likely to stand up to anyone for the other?

Lestat has a much more reactive and implosive temper, so it would probably be him if someone even so much as looked at Armand the wrong way.

He's lost plenty of sleep trying to find out what exactly Armand meant by the virginity comment (they're not in the place yet where he can outright ask and he doesn't want to bring it up to Louis in case Armand hasn't and it'll become A Thing). But he fantasizes about getting to the bottom of it one day so he can figure out who to kill.

Most people leave Lestat alone because he's generally pretty popular and well-liked (and also an older senior who's had his share of fights), but if Armand ever overhears some snarky asshole insulting Lestat's intelligence because he's repeating a grade, he will cut them down to size with the most bitingly vicious words in the calmest possible tone. He might even smile as he does it, just to be extra creepy.

• Who is the most likely to prepare a surprise for the other?

Armand did spring the tattoos thing on Lestat, so I'd have to say Armand.

People expect Lestat to be capricious; Armand not so much, so it's extra surprising. But he loves to plan little 'not quite dates' and excursions that often rely on the premise of 'just trust me, Lestat! 🥺'

• Who makes the other pinky promise not to do certain things?

Armand makes Lestat pinky promise that he's not going do anything reckless like drink and drive if he's going to a house party Armand and Louis can't attend. It's not that Lestat means to be reckless, he just thinks he's invincible.

Lestat's pinky promise requests are much more innocuous, usually after they've made up following a petty adolescent squabble: 'Promise you're not still mad at me? Swear on it.'

• Who puts a blanket over the other when they fall asleep on the couch?

Lestat covers Armand up when he's fallen asleep at school, Armand covers Lestat when he falls asleep on his couch or in his bed. Usually Lestat's on top of him already, between his legs and resting his head on his chest, and so it takes a bit of gymnastics practice to maneuver a blanket over them both. It's worth it for some of the best sleep either of them will get anytime soon. 💖

#hope this improved your day just a bit 🥹🥹🖤🖤 #thank you for always indulging my 101 AU thoughts every single day of life i would die sad and alone without you 🤧 #i did get a vc l/a ask but my brain supernovas whenever i think about them in canon and i end up puking meta so i need a Moment #ship headcanons ask meme #armand/lestat #fic: exposed

[inkofamethyst]

May 21, 2023

I love the days when I look into the mirror and feel pretty.  Sometimes I look into a mirror and it’s more of a cursory glance or a focused check on some aspect of my appearance or other.  It’s a choreographed art, learned from years of looking too hard and not liking what I saw.  So my focus blurs or narrows and *poof* self-esteem issue abated.  But sometimes I look into a mirror, really look at myself, and like what I see.  Those are some of my favorite days.

It’s kind of sad removing a longtime member of the current club from the playlist.  Bottom of the River by Delta Rae has been on current since 2020, but these days I just find myself skipping it more than letting it play.  It just takes me longer to suck the endorphins out of some songs compared to others.  And sometimes songs will pop up again which is always a fun time.  Like I think I’ve been through three separate Paramore phases which has been fantastic.

How... exactly how does one suddenly become comfortable with taking photos of oneself?  Or asking friends to take photos of you?  Cuz it just kinda feels entirely awkward, especially since I am so picky with how I represent myself (over 89% of photos will not make the cut).  I ask because I fully intended to take cute photos today during my city outing (with my sibling and photo-friend), but couldn’t bring myself to actually do it even as I was formulating cool photo ideas in my mind.  I just kept thinking that my photo-friend might think it was dumb (I know him well enough to know that he’d never think such a thing) so I didn’t :/

Well I am at least thankful for the city outing we had today!!!  The weather was beautiful, our little museum visits were lovely and informative, and I felt so at peace.  Also thankful that my photo-friend joined us.  Mostly because I really enjoy his company, partly because having a trustworthy man around generally makes me feel a bit more at ease (plus, larger groups have more eyes to keep watch and scope out issues that one or two people alone might miss).  I’m also thankful that we somehow lucked upon pretty good food truck food?  Definitely above the average of what I expect from food trucks.

House-hunting is stressful, and that’s all I have to say on the matter.  Hopefully I’ll know where I’m going to be living this fall before June?

Oh also last thing: my sister has finally given in to watching the last season of The 100 with me (she only agreed because she needed me to help her braid).  We watched the previous season years ago and spent the first several episodes just reorienting ourselves to the plot and characters (they’ve been through so much).  I’m really enjoying it!!!  It’s super heavy on the sci-fi, ultra heavy on the drama, and we’re at the part in the season where some major backstory/worldbuilding has been introduced and I’m here for it.  

[indyflanery]

Have you always liked to write and at what age did you start?

Pretty much. I think I really started to write in middle school. Mainly, it was a way of coping with being ASD and awkward (but not knowing I was on the spectrum) around everyone at school. And it was those weird stories you wrote that were basically rip offs of your favorite books like the Goosebumps series. Aliens invading school, Egyptian mummies (yes I was an early archaeologist), that kind of thing.

I eventually moved into fandom writing (don't judge me for the boy band phase!) and basically did nothing but carry around a three ring binder for writing my entire junior year of high school. To the point where I was ignoring everything I was doing in English class and the teacher let me turn in part of my story for an assignment and then sent me to a writer's workshop.

And it just kept hoping as I moved from fandoms into college until I eventually ended up here and writing one of ym favorite characters.

#*field notes* (ooc) #Asks

[southslates]

Dee, DEE, Oh My God, I started following you for your excellent Kanej content like what, one year ago ?? and only now are you hinting at watching Miraculous ????? I'm going to loose my freaking mind oh my God TELL ME ALL YOUR THOUGHTS ON MIRACULOUS PLEASE AND ALSO MARICHAT you might just convince me it's the best side of the lovesquare, I don't even watch ATLA and I'm sold to Zutara PLEASE

omg omg. i wrote a few miraculous fics back in 2016 and i watched the first season/part of the second when i was in middle school, and had a phase for a month or two where i read a ton of fic, but then i dropped off the miraculous fandom entirely and i haven't watched anything at all after the second season. it's been six years, which is so crazy haha but recently i've definitely been reading a bit of mlb fic. the fandom is to some extent more lighthearted than what i'm used to, and i'm not invested enough in watching the next few seasons/keeping up with everything, but i look at the art sometimes <3

and on MARICHAT. oh my god i love chat noir so much and i love marinette, i don't really have a particular reason for it i guess, but they were always my favorite because their interactions felt so much more genuine and un-romanticized than the rest

i honestly can't bear ladrien and stay away from a lot of adrinette because the way mari acts around adrien just gives me so much secondhand embarassment. and like, i know she supposedly sees beyond rich kid adrien and truly loves him for who he is, but it seems like chat is truly who he is? idk like adrien minus chat feels just like Perfect Model Boy (tm) to me, nothing about him feels like a character, but then again it's been so long since i watched the show. and because of how she interacts with him i feel like she's too far into her romanticization to ever like him more so for him. i love marichat and ladynoir for that, because mari is her true self, so sassy and fun around chat in those forms, and good for her lol. i think ladybug is more like mari than chat is like adrien. the two just seem so... not similar.

& also man, do i hate when girls are messy and stumbling and awkward around their crushes, these guys they put on a pedestal. like adrien is this perfect character right, but in real life that usually ends really badly with them getting taken advantage of, and ugh i just dislike it. also i dislike adrien getting to speak chinese, marinette having little connection with that side of her culture and she gets i... idk idk man. no adrien hate because he's a nice boy and clearly he's dealing with a lot of issues, but a combination of his naivete and perfection just rankles me with him. i feel like i only ever like him when he's revealed to be chat and is more comfortable acting like chat. but marinette is so much like ladybug when she's marinette when she isn't around adrien.

god i said i had no reasoning and then just ended up ranting i'm so sorry!! but thank you for sticking with me so long and i'm so glad i've recruited you over to the zutara dark side as well ;)

#mure-savage #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #marichat #ladynoir #mlb #dee rants #<3

[goblinselfshippr]

Oki gush pass part 2/2 because when I finally start talking about this poor little meow meow, I never shut UP. Part one here

I hadn’t met Nero until long after Dante had explained what he’d seen. I was too afraid of my own jealousy to be able to look him in the eye, and when I did it hurt. My chest was a volcano, and my tears were lava. Everything burned inside, and I swore my soul was torn apart. I didn’t have this knowledge of where he’d been, I saw only signs that my first love had moved on. Nero had no idea that I’d been there that day, I’d only watched through a high window I’d perched upon. The downward spiral was inevitable, and unfortunately many many bad decisions were made (aka The Hoe Phase).

When “V” showed up I’d nearly smacked him. I knew instantly, for all his wit, he was never good at coming up with names. I liked the way his guilt prevented him from meeting my eyes at first. He’d tried to start over, a familiar poem here, a flirty offer there. I pointedly ignored him. It wasn’t until Dante didn’t show up for days that I gave in, shouting at him for daring to return, for leaving me. He admitted that he hadn’t known how to react because he thought I was some sort of copy, that he swore he’d seen me perish a long time ago. That he was trying to gain control of the demon realm or destroy the entire world trying for my memory’s sake. Of course the only response I found in the moment was, “Are you stupid?”

Luckily for the other members stuck in tight quarters with us, the tension eased after this. Not that we got to interact much after, everyone was a little more concerned with stopping a giant tree from destroying the world. My wings had strengthened in the past years, I wasn’t going to allow him out of my sight again once he was whole. I’d caught the end of his fight with Nero, stopping them from tearing the other apart. Honestly? Most awkward conversation ever. “Hey yeah, your dad that you just met is essentially married to me, but I’m not your other parent bc he cheated on me with a copy of myself” definitely not,,, easy. I relished the way he’d swung an arm around my middle, kissing my temple before jumping into yet another portal into the other world.

I was the one that had to drag the both of them back. The last limb from the demon tree was just barely weak enough to crumble from the sound of a siren’s shriek. I’d snagged two bottles of some sort of potion from Samael, meant to heal their numerous wounds. I could only carry them so far though, able to open a door to fortuna and drop them off at their family’s doorstep before returning to my own place in between realms. I had assumed that would be the last of it, that I would only see Vergil occasionally on holidays when I saw my friend. It didn’t work out that way. He’d turned up barely three months later with a box of macarons, a journal, and a sad sort of look on his face.

While food was usually a good enough apology for me, the journal was my favorite. It was full of absolutely horrible poetry for me. This wasn’t something he’d copied from another book and compiled for me, these were his own words. I agreed to be civil with him, but no promises on anything. There were costume parties, dinners, small notes left behind, cuts healed and kissed, and slowly we had built back a sturdy foundation. But then what? Was this doomed anyway? So here is where we sort of stand. There are soft lunch dates and long late night conversations, but neither one makes a move to break out of the odd comfort bubble we’re in

#goblinanswers #did I compile 8 years of writing and 20 something years of lore into two posts? #yes. yes I did #❤️[a thousand years]

[thenovelartist]

And there was only One Bed - Tears of Themis Headcanons

Premise: There’s only one room left in the hotel, meaning the guys have to be roomies with MC for a night.

Luke

Err… his cheeks are red now.

He’s having to check with MC if she’s okay with it. Not that they had much of a choice.

They take the room, only to discover one bed.

And forget his crush on her; that’s the least of his problems.

He knows she shifts in her sleep.

“You take half and I take half?” MC offers. “Like when we were kids?”

He sighs, lamenting his fate. “I’m so gonna end up on the floor.”

“Sorry.”

When it comes to who showers first: rock, paper, scissors.

He’s the least phased of all the guys by the whole “share one bathroom” situation. They grew up together. They sometimes used to have quick conversations through the bathroom door, normally just a question or two about what they wanted for dinner or if their phone went off and it was their parents.

Which happened this time. “There was a vending machine down stairs. You want anything? And if you mention that diet, I’m getting you two of your favorite candy bars.”

“Just one and only one.”

“You got it.”

(@gavin-plz-call-me once called them the “King and Queen of No Boundaries” and I will never forget it.)

Eventually, Luke makes sure MC’s settled in for bed while he’s planning to stay up a little and figure out tomorrow’s game plan.

Until she literally drags him to bed.

He can’t protest against her.

Contrary to what he thought, he did not end up on the floor.

But it was kinda hard to sleep when the girl of his dreams decided his chest was her new snuggle pillow halfway through the night.

He’ll cave and roll with it. Be selfish just for tonight and hold her there.

Come morning, she apologizes for disrupting him, he dismisses it. And both their cheeks are red.

But it doesn’t phase them. Give it half an hour, they’re back to normal.

(Bonus: “So, kid. Let me get this straight,” Aaron Yishmir started. “You spent the night with her, and you’re still not gonna tell her anything?”

“It wasn’t like that!”

“You’re hopeless.)

Vyn

Well… this is a predicament.

However, they come to some awkward agreement that if it’s the only place to sleep for the night, they’ll take it and figure it out as they go.

However, things only go from bad to worse when they learn there’s only one bed.

There were very few times since becoming an adult that Vyn ever found himself at a loss. And this was one of those times.

“Um… are you comfortable splitting?”

His glasses almost fell off his face at MCs suggestion.

Before he can even think about suggesting to take the chair, MC is putting up a blanket wall. “Like this?”

Er… aha…

Oh geez, this woman…

He caves to that deep, ugly part of him that’s begging “yes” and agrees.

Then comes the new revelation there’s only one bathroom, which rose the question of who was going to shower when.

He just lets her take the first shower while his mind is still storming.

During that time, he realizes this may be the only time he has the privacy to actually record his voice diary.

It’s a total disaster. He’s in mental turmoil and can barely think straight.

But MC is acting normal, meaning he’s got to try to act normal.

Normally, he takes his showers in the morning, but he takes it at night this time just so he can have another moment of privacy to get his thoughts in order.

This is just a practical arrangement. This is just a practical arrangement. This is just a practical arrangement…

Bedtime rolls around, and poor, unsuspecting Vyn believes they are each going to stay on their respective sides of the bed.

However, Author has a headcanon these two both sleep like dead logs.

Morning rolls around, and they’re still both asleep, only they’re totally entangled.

MC wakes up first, laying on top of Vyn.

And when she freaks, flailing and falling off the bed in the process, that’s when Vyn wakes, too.

It was… an interesting morning to say the least.

They come to the agreement to never speak on it again.

(Until a few years down the line after they’re together and can look back on that day with amusement.)

Artem

When the person at the front desk said there was only one room left, Artem about had a heart attack.

He cannot possibly share a room with MC. That’s super improper.

Will call around to any other hotel in the area, but no avail.

MC will literally have to drag this poor man up to the room.

“It will be fine, Artem.”

Except, it wasn’t. There was one bed.

Cue almost heart attack number 2.

He almost left to go sleep in the car. MC had to restrain him.

“We can share right? Like, if we—”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Not even if we put a blanket—”

“No. I’ll sleep in the chair.”

There was no convincing him to sleep anywhere else.

And MC tried.

Eventually, she had to surrender. “Fine. Then do you want the first shower?”

Oh… there was only one bathroom… that they’d be sharing…

Cue almost heart attack number 3.

Will legitimately leave the room while she’s showering. He just feels too awkward and like he’s invading her privacy.

Then bed time rolls around and he’s unable to sleep, so he works on his laptop for the time being.

Ends up pulling an all-nighter, which MC anticipated.

She set an alarm for early in the morning so she could then force him to bed for a few hours.

While he insisted he was fine, he was too tired to protest as she pushed him down into bed. “Sleep, will you. I know you didn’t sleep all night.”

Thought he’d have trouble, but he was so wound up all night over everything that had happened that he’s passed out in fifteen minutes.

And stayed out cold for a few hours.

When they left, MC made sure to thank him for being such a gentleman. She thought it was the least she could do for his troubles.

That, and she quite liked the way his ears and neck turned red.

(Bonus: He hopes Celestine never finds out what happened on that business trip.

But when she finds out curtesy of MC, she will never let him live it down.)

Marius

The moment he finds out there’s only one room, he actually gets super flustered.

And as he does, instantly goes in to deflective Playboy Flirt mode.

“Get your head out of the gutter, you little—”

MC shut that down, real quick.

Most he could do then is just say “It can’t be that bad, right? What’s the worst that could happen?”

Well, apparently only be one bed.

Flustered Marius = Playboy Persona

“That’s it,” MC says. “You take the bed.”

“What? Don’t you wanna share?”

“No.”

“Ouch!”

But really, he wants to find some way to get her to take the bed because he really will feel awful otherwise.

Then comes the single bathroom realization.

“You wanna shower together?”

“Marius, I swear I will kick you out of this room and take the keycard from you.”

“Oh, my feisty Miss Attorney.”

“Miss Attorney will sue you for sexual harassment.”

“Understood.”

He gets to shower first, and then ends up giving her some excuse for leaving the room entirely.

He loves teasing her, but this might be the most he’s ever pushed his luck. And he actually doesn’t want her to hate him, so he’ll give her this space at least.

As for the bed situation…

MC tries to sleep on the couch, but he can’t stand it, so he decides to push his luck and simply carry her to bed.

“I won’t pull anything, I swear.”

“The only reason I’m agreeing is because I know I’ll sleep better here than the couch.”

“See?”

“Marius.”

“I’ll shut up.”

Regrets his decision halfway through the night when Mr. Light Sleeper realizes Ms. Dead Log moves in her sleep.

She was snuggled up against his back, and his heart was going doki doki too hard to even think about going back to sleep.

Eventually, he rolls over and snuggles her, not just because he wants to, but he hopes it will keep her still through the night.

Unfortunately, she was not happy in the morning.

“Can’t we talk about this?”

She kept her face turned away from him the rest of the day, but he knew it was red with blush. “Shut up.”

#tears of themis #luke pierce #vyn richter #artem wing #marius von hagen #headcanons #tears of themis headcanons

[villainess-supremacy]

headcanons of the four lords celebrating pride for the first time with their s/o

notes: you told them that it's pride month and asked if they would like to celebrate with you. none of them have ever celebrated pride before. I made the lords and s/o queer because I can

type: sfw, gender and sexuality of the s/o are not specified

tw/cw: slight mention of alcohol, blood, lgbtphobes

requests: open

Alcina Dimitrescu

her daughters have mentioned pride month before, but she's not sure what it entails exactly

you gladly explain it to her in detail!

she loves the idea since she is fruity herself loves celebrating for such a wonderful reason

you being part of it makes it so much better

and a whole month?? she's in

she would love to go to pride events with you, but she's afraid other mortals will be scared of her due to her height so you decide to just have your own celebrations in the castle

you love watching movies together so you show her all of your favorite queer movies and shows

you bought a pride flag to hang up below the balcony in the entrance hall

she loves the smile on your face when you proudly look up at it

"maybe we should extend pride to be all year if it makes you this happy, my love."

she already regularly gives you presents, but during the entirety of pride month she additionally leaves little gifts for you in your shared bedroom, the kitchen and all of your favorite places in the castle

and that daily

if there is any queer owned shop you like she will literally buy their entire stock

if there are any charities you mention she will gladly donate in your name and give you the certificate as a surprise

she realizes that something about June just makes her want you even more in general, in the private chambers, whichever is up to you wink wink

as a surprise she decides to make a special wine without blood of course named after you and your sexuality/gender if you use labels, but in fancy Latin words

she loves to drink, but of course watches over you so you don't have too much

mortals don't process it as well as she does...

if you come across any lgbtphobes and are noticeably saddened she will be there to distract you right away

everyone who dares to make her love sad will feel her wrath! be ignored since they're not worth her time

but if she finds out that anyone in the village doesn't support you or anyone who is part of the lgbt community, they will be forced asked to vacate their home

she will pamper you and shower you with her love even more

you once jokingly say "be gay do crime and turn maidens into wine" and she makes it her new motto but she's serious about it

Donna Beneviento

she knows a couple things about pride since she reads a lot, but you're so excited to tell her about it she simply lets you talk

you'd love to go to pride events with her but she's too shy and tends to have anxiety attacks when around too many strangers so she sends Angie instead

afterwards she will gladly listen to both of you tell her all about it!

she has her own collection of books that have queer characters in them which she never told anyone about before you and will read all of them with you if you like

there will be regular dates picnics while Angie takes care of the house

she's a cottage core sapphic and pride month brings out that side of her more

she has made dolls for you before, but this time she makes one that looks just like you

it has a pride flag embroidered on the top above the heart

of course you love it!

you're so glad that she accepts every part of you

she will make one of herself with a similar outfit and a small pride flag as well so she can set them up in couple settings

ever since she found out about online shopping it has opened up a whole new world for her so she will definitely get both of you matching outfits or jewelry from an lgbt owned shop

you love doing arts and crafts together so you suggest making bracelets for each other, either color coded or with letters

Donna's house has a flagpole she hasn't used in decades, but for you she'd gladly call for maintenance if it turns out it's unusable after all these years to hang a pride flag

anything to make you happy!

if there are any lgbtphobes bothering you or your friends, she will be right there to comfort you and won't hesitate to send Angie and her other dolls she can control to deal with them

even if you tell her that it's fine and she should just ignore them she's great at distracting you so you wouldn't notice until it's done oops-

since she has no portable device that can access music streaming platforms, but knows the password to your phone she decides to steal it for a bit and makes you the softest playlist that you since then often play for comfort

Salvatore Moreau

he has spent decades almost completely separated from humans so he has no idea what pride month means, but instantly agrees to it because he loves you so much

he will agree to anything that makes you happy

you both sit down and he looks at you with puppy eyes while you tell him all about pride

he loves the idea of celebrating a group of people you both are a part of

he thinks you deserve your own month to be cherished and celebrated!

he may be a little awkward with expressing his feelings, but he sure knows how to prepare a romantic dinner

with mother miranda needing all of the lords a lot to assist her, he usually barely has time to prep food, but for pride month he does his best to cook for you every single day

part of his usual outfit is a cape to cover his back and a type of crown made out of bones and rope

he's not the best with his hands, but he makes a crown for you that resembles his anyway because you're his queen/king/majesty

you love it so much!

you want to give him something in return so you go to the village and visit the shop you know is lgbt owned and get him a custom necklace with a fish pendant that has your initials engraved

he literally bursts out in tears because he is so touched :c

when you started dating he initially was scared of what you would think about his giant fish form, but you turned out to be really impressed and love it and since you'd be tiny compared to him he suggests taking you on an adventure of sorts

meaning you sit on his back while he swims around the lake which is like a roller coaster ride but more wet

he leads you to a hut you never visited before and he shows you treasures he has collected when he was still mortal

he starts making a list of things you could do and stays up all night to complete it but ends up with so many activities and ideas to celebrate pride you'll have to extend pride month... by possibly years....

if he hears about anyone being mean to you he'll just encase them into the blobs of gooey mass he can make but you don't need to know about that, pride month or not

he has always wanted to propose to you so he might be able to work up the courage to hint at it by the end of June

Karl Heisenberg

of course he knows about pride month!

he knows more than you might think

he isn't considered the rebel child for no reason

in the past he has done some celebration for himself, but it was never anything too special

he thinks it's no fun alone and his experiments servants aren't much fun

sure he could program them, but unless it's to attack something they're not really... party animals

since he has you now he'll gladly give it another go!

he'd love to go to pride events with you, especially if you go to drag shows

he didn't know about them before you made him go to one

something about them fascinates him so much, he's more excited than you

he's not really into cooking, but nothing will stop him from making you a nice breakfast in bed

you always love watching him work on his machines because he likes to take off his shirt when he's hot seeing him do what he loves makes you happy

so he decides to gift you some robots to assist you with your everyday endeavors

it's not really necessary but of course you appreciate the gesture

it means more time to spend with him after all

he once sees you with a keychain that has a pride flag on it so he paints it on one of his machines that he uses more often

mostly he will end the day by having a drink and dancing with you

it's a celebration, so celebrate he will

if you're more in the mood for chilling on the couch he won't say no to watching some queer shows or movies

after working on his machines he has a way of just melting into your arms

if he sees you smile at certain scenes in movies he might attempt to do the same with you

of course you notice, but you definitely can't complain especially if you smile on purpose at the spicier scenes

anyone who will come between you and happily celebrating pride will be visited by Sturm banned from his factory and getting anywhere near you

he likes to name his subjects so he will start naming them after all of your favorite queer historical figures, activists and famous people in general

any smile he can get out of you is a win

a win for the gays you might say

when he was younger he may have had a phase of spraying graffiti around the village so you're not surprised when he goes around his factory and writes "be gay do crime" on several of his machines and doors

#hc #headcanon #lady dimitrescu #re8 #resident evil village #resident evil #resident evil 8 #alcina dimitrescu #re: village #re #karl heisenberg #re heisenberg #heisenberg #donna beneviento #re beneviento #angie beneviento #lady beneviento #re8 beneviento #re moreau #salvadore moreau #moreau #four lords #happy pride 🌈 #pride

[t00turnttrauma]

picture perfect- drw+sfk

Inspired by Slipping Through My Fingers by ABBA. The first time my family was supposed to have dinner with my sister’s boyfriend, I pretended to be sick because I couldn’t handle the idea that she’s going to move away and get married. I just stayed home and cried for the entire four hours that they were out. That was like six months ago and I still cry sometimes.

After Sam and Danny left, you were left alone. You were going to college in the morning, and it scared the hell out of you. Sam promised that the two of you would go together, major in different things but always make time to hang out at least once a week. But he ditched you. There was no anger or resentment for him or Danny, but there was a twinge of pain. You pretended to be unbothered, but it pained you.

You stared at the photos you’d collected over the years. They covered the wall behind your desk so when you worked on homework, his face was there to keep you motivated. Instead, though, you usually thought of something funny to message or call him about. He would respond quickly, a paragraph the same size as yours. Most times it was longer and even more intricate, like an essay instead of a text. His phone bill would skyrocket if he had to pay per letter.

The photos started in the top left corner from the fifth grade. It was from the field trip to the science museum. You, Sam, Danny, and Mr. Wagner were in one corner of the group photo, smiling. Sam held up bunny ear behind you and Danny as he was the tallest of the group at that time.

By middle school, the next few pictures, the three of you went through that awkward phase of bangs, bowl cuts, braces, and the disproportionate limbs. There was a photo of the three of you, Sam’s sweater tied around your hips. You’d had your first period at school and instead of making a big deal, Danny sprinted to Sam two classrooms over to get his sweater. Danny would have given his to you, but he hadn’t worn an shirt beneath his hoodie and the dress code didn’t allow for shirtless pubescent boys. Sam was quick to take it off, sending Danny back to you.

By high school, that was where ninety percent of the photos came from, the three of you had grown even closer. You joined the dance team for the first two years. The two boys came to every football and basketball game, cheering louder during your performance than during the game. So many photos were from post-game meets and dinners where you were still in your spandex leggings and sparkly top. Junior year, the new captain was ruthless and snarky, so you quit the team. The pictures then shifted to the three of you in the crowd together. The back of each photo was dated and marked with the events from that night. Labels included ‘first joint with S, D, and Jackie from math class’ or ‘Sam’s first shotgun- threw up afterward in Bethany Vick’s rose bushes’.

The spirit week photos were all aligned on the side. The photos of twin day, which you made triplet day, and wearing identical outfits. Another favorite of yours was gender swap day where you would wear khakis, just like how Danny and Sam would wear almost every day, and a polo of Dan’s choice. The two of them, in turn, would wear jeans and a blouse of yours. The outfits always made you laugh as they looked like the character from Drake and Josh when the Drake’s band member wore Megan’s top. Senior year, Sam wore one of your dresses, pinching the top part with a clothespin on his back as he couldn’t fill it out. He offered stuffing a bra with socks but that would be far too much for a spirit day.

The photos from graduation and prom were still being processed at the print shop. You hadn’t noticed that you were crying, missing the days of old when you were together, hanging out all the time. You carried the box of Sam’s things downstairs. You’d turned Danny’s things in before he left, but Sam had so many more things. You placed it on the red wagon, pulling it onto the sidewalk and behind you. You made the three block walk to the Kiszka home.

Karen opened the door a few minutes after ringing the bell, shocked to see you on the doorstep. “Y/N? What brings you here?”

She and Kelly had practically become empty nesters overnight and we’re not sued to the silence. She let you in, offering some pie from the fridge, which you politely denied, knowing that you’d spend the entire afternoon there. Walking in, you noticed that she’d already done some redecorating. The fragile items were no longer on high shelves, but on the coffee tables and end tables.

“I came to return this,” you said, pulling the red wagon into the mud room. The radio flyer had a lot of memories, like when you sent Jake flying down the hill and he broke his arm. The box on top was full of Sam’s things from over the years. “I was going through my closet and I think I had more of Sam’s stuff than my own.”

Karen peeked into the box. “I think most of that is the other two’s stuff.”

You laughed. “And I wanted to give this back since I won’t be needing it anymore.”

You took the Kiszka house key off your keychain. She looked down at it. “When did you get that?”

You shrugged. “I think it just appeared one day and I used it when- can we talk about that? Is it time for our wild high school antics to come to light or is there a time requirement?”

Karen let out a laugh. “Oh, Y/N. Sam asked if he could give you a key, but I didn’t think he would.” She handed it back to you. “Just keep it. You never know when you might need it.”

You took it back, putting it into your pocket. “Thanks, Mama K. I’ll cherish it forever.”

She smiled. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

You shook your head. “I have papers to sign for college and I have to sign up for registration and move in times before double checking that I have everything.”

She nodded, giving you a final hug. You bid her goodbye, promising to come back around during the holidays.

On the walk home, you checked for any texts from Danny or Sam. Unlike before when you could have up to fifty messages in the spam of ten minutes, there hadn’t been anything in weeks. You hadn’t heard from them since the Fourth of July when they sent you a ten second video of a fireworks show in Los Angeles. The messages before then were short, barely qualifying as a sentence. You remembered sending them off at the airport. Sam had his school backpack on his back, stuffed full of hair products and personal items rather than school supplies. He had the same dopey grin on his face, promising that he’d send at least one text a day. The promise fell through quickly, but you still held out hope. Danny was better at texting back. It just took him a day or two to get back to you. He knew about your crush on Sam, sending updates when he had time. With the way he worded things, you knew that the amount of times Sam talked about you was far less.

At home, you plucked your favorite photos off the wall. You noticed how you looked at Sam. In almost every photo, you had a hand on him, and if you didn’t, you were looking at him. You sniffed, looking through all of them and putting them in a box that would travel on the front seat.

After putting everything in your car, checking your list, you were happy. You cuddled with your parents before bed. You’d be leaving before breakfast in the morning, unable to handle goodbye. When the sun was barely over the horizon, you left and drove on the highway. You always expected to be in the car with your two best friends, chittering about the new chapter, but you were by yourself and scared shitless.

Pulling into the parking lot, you signed in with your RA and rented a cart to put your boxes in. You had an apartment on the end of campus, and you’d be living with two other people. There were a few boxes in the living room already and two rooms were taken up. You looked around for someone else but couldn’t find anyone. The front door opened and familiar laughter broke through the air. You couldn’t believe your eyes as you looked at the two people you’d be living with.

He held out his hand. “I’m Sam, your roommate.”

“And I’m Danny, your other roommate.”

#danny wagner #danny gvf #daniel wagner #danny x reader #sam gvf #sam kiszka #sam #sam kiszka gvf #sam x reader #greta van fleet #gretavanfleet #greta van fleet x reader #greta van fleet fanfic #josh gvf #gvf #gvf fanfiction #gvf imagine #gvf fluff #jake kiszka #jake #jacob kiszka #jake gvf #jake kiszka x reader #josh kiszka #joshua kiszka #josh kiska x reader

[haztory]

𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝. (1)

--iwaizumi hajime x f!reader; fake/pretend dating, mutual pining, third year characters, confident/no-nonsense reader, puppet master oikawa, ocassional cursing, other than that no warnings!

--summary: Iwaizumi Hajime was more than content to not be at the receiving end of the hordes of fangirl's attention. 

But when they all suddenly devote their time and love to him, he can't help but quickly want an out. It's Oikawa's suggestion- a good one at that. Get a girlfriend to scare them off.

And what better than use you, Iwaizumi's best friend with a long standing crush on him, to play the role.

a/n: this is my first haikyuu fic! i did not expect it to be about iwa considering im a huge daichi simp, but that’s what listening to bubble pop electric by gwen stefani and browsing through pinterest does to the brain, ig. please let me know if any characters are too ooc, as im still trying to get them down.

other than that, enjoy! messages are always appreciated. 

(w.c. 4836)

masterlist | next chapter

Iwaizumi Hajime was hand sculpted by the gods, the entire female student body deduces with fanatic agreement one blessed afternoon. His shoulders are broad, skin rippling like waves breaking on rocks under the movement of his muscles. His stomach is firm and taut with the lining of his abs and his pectorals are considerably large enough to have every single girl in attendance foam at the mouth. And as he raises one— bulging — arm to wave sheepishly to the widened eyes of the crowd, his thick and veiny hand on full display, a collective moan is heard throughout the building. It has the poor boy ducking his head downward even further. 

The fundraiser arranged to cover the expenses of the volleyball team’s traveling to away games exceeded its initial goal (that of which the all-female led student council was greatly responsible for) resulting in the entire team parading themselves around the cafeteria as a reward for the students’ commitment to the task. 

Shirtless.

And while attention from the female population has usually always been paid to the star setter, Oikawa Tooru and all of his addicting charm, his absence in this mouthwatering and delectable ceremony has allowed for the ace and vice-captain of the Seijoh Volleyball Team to shine. Oh, and shine, he has. 

Within a mere five minutes, the fiercely devoted and militant fanclub belonging to Oikawa has suddenly converted— briefly, they insist— to the groupies of Seijoh’s Vice Captain: powerful ace, leader of offense, total hottie. 

The attention increases tenfold from that point on. Suddenly, Oikawa is no longer the only one receiving love confessions numerous times on a daily basis (much to his chagrin), but instead is sharing the spotlight with his best friend, who is more than uncomfortable with the unexpected shift in notice. He was never ecstatic at being labeled as ‘Oikawa’s number two’, adamant that he was his own entity despite the intricate intertwinement with his best friend, he was, in fact, totally fine with never being hounded by girls at every minute of the day. Sure, the attention would be nice, occasionally. 

But this? This is outrageous.

This is the tenth girl today to have stopped by his locker, a pink flush encompassing her face as she sticks her hands out to present something to Iwaizumi. It’s tupper ware, decorated in a pink bow with his name written in cursive on the top accompanied by some cute glitter stickers. That would make this the fourth container he’s received this morning, and as much as the whole act fills him with a deep dread and hesitation, he doesn’t have the heart to reject her gift. Especially when her hands are shaking so hard and she’s stuttering every other word out. 

So he puts on the standard smile, the one that he’s seen Oikawa pump out a hundred times a day but fails to meet in equal warmth and charm, and thanks her graciously and sincerely— even though he’s not that big a fan of milk bread and this is the third one he’s going to have to shove into his locker. 

He bows to her with an awkward smile, “Ah, thank you, uh…”

“H-Hina!” she shouts, her hands slapping upward towards her mouth after the outburst. The pink flushes deeper on her skin, and Iwaizumi has to wonder what exactly is going through the air for a girl to have this kind of reaction to him. He hasn’t changed, hasn’t developed a new attitude that should have girls swooning at his feet. He’s the same as always, stubbornly so. He is Iwaizumi Hajime, hardass, avid monster movie watcher and the usual second thought. He supposes he should feel somewhat elated at the long-awaited recognition, but he can’t shake off the feeling that this is all incredibly unwarranted. 

It's a surface value attraction. They're not really swooning for him, just the idea of him. That stings a bit more than he’d like to admit.

“Hina,” he affirms with a gentle nod, bowing his head in gratitude, “Thank you for the treat. I will, uh, treasure every bite.”

He doesn’t mean it to be anything charming (because he’s not) nor even remotely romantic (because it’s not), it’s just what he comes up with at the top of his head, but Hina starts to shake and a watery smile spreads across her face when she hears it and he knows he’s made this whole thing much worse. Before he can even awkwardly ask if she’s alright, she bows hurriedly again before running off with a shriek. 

It's then that he’s sure Oikawa is one sadistic motherfucker because there is no way anyone mentally sane could take that reaction as a compliment. There’s an intense guilt that settles in his stomach for the rest of the day for causing a girl to tremble like that. 

Curse the student council for that stupid fundraiser award. He would much rather walk to every away game than have to go through another day of this. 

He opens his locker again, placing the container in there amongst all the other ones and the numerous handmade cards declaring affection. He closes it with a sigh. He can only hope that this phase of adoration is reaching its end. 

Quickly.

**

It does not end quickly. 

It's month three of endless confessions and Iwaizumi is about to lose his mind. Word spreads about his favorite kinds of teas and sweets (which he is sure Oikawa is directly responsible for) and his locker starts to resemble a mall kiosk more than any part of school property. The outside is decorated with stickers and taped with more love cards and he’s pretty sure someone found out his combination (again) because there are balloons floating out of it.

It's a circus. One that Mattsukawa and Hanamaki repeatedly laugh about every time they see it. 

He would like to indulge in the acts or at least make some kind of peace with the situation, he really would. He’s always fantasized in passing about the pride and specialty one must feel at being the center of female attention, having seen it and thwarted it first hand from Oikawa’s fans, but the longer this drags on the more fraudulent he starts to feel.

How can he enjoy his favorite foods when the girls giving it to him are blinded by a false idea of him? They’re not genuine, and if he accepted them, he would only feel like a bad guy, taking advantage of poor girls who haven’t got the slightest clue about him. Because Iwaizumi doesn’t have the million dollar smile like Oikawa does, nor does he have the oozing charm and commercial personality. 

He’s hard, and stubborn, and less inclined to entertain bullshit— the complete opposite of shitty-kawa. So whatever perception these girls think they have of Iwa, they’re wrong. and he can’t accept gifts from these girls who think they love him, when in reality, he’s the furthest thing from what they assume he is. 

“Why are you so adamant to believe that what they feel isn’t real? What's so ridiculous about liking you? Hmm?” Oikawa sings with a laugh one afternoon, the whole team crammed into the club room as they change out of their practice gear. the other guys snicker at Iwaizumi’s dismay, the usual frown painted on his face is permanently etched deeper into his skin and he knows they’re all getting a sick enjoyment from his torture.

The constant reliability to the chaos Oikawa brings is now subjected to his own taste of havoc. And he’s absolutely miserable. 

In all of his stubborn self-sufficiency, he’s refused to even indulge the guys with a verbal complaint, simply grumbling at the gifts before moving on with his day. Intent on dealing with this problem on his own and prohibiting himself from being a burden to anyone else. 

But he’s off his a-game in practice and the crease between his eyebrows is now a persistent feature on his face these days.

“Because it's not real,” he grunts, throwing his sweaty shirt into his sports bag, “They don’t like me.”

Hanamaki snorts from across the benches, a wide smile on his face as he unlaces his shoes and sings, “They only like him for his bodyyy.”

“Can you blame them? Who would ever like Iwa for his personality?” Matsukawa joins him in snickering, earning a killer glare from the victim in question. Not helping. They only laugh harder. 

“So what?” Oikawa questions amusedly, ignoring the sarcasm dripping from the other two third years, leaning his body against the lockers as he watches his best friend ripple with frustration. A constant sight these days.

“So what?” Iwaizumi turns to look at him, incredulity furrowing his features as his friends look at him like he’s grown a third head for being reasonably uncomfortable with this, “It's weird. They’re giving all of these nice gifts to a guy they barely know and they all look at me like a piece of meat.”

“God, girls objectifying you? The horror.” Mattsun torts again, earning a water bottle thrown at his face.

“So what?” Oikawa laughs again, the kind of laugh that reverberates around the room and rings a little too loudly in his ears. He’s heard this laugh thousands of times over the years, coming out to play when Oikawa is far too keen on putting Hajime as the butt of a joke. The mockery is clear in his voice, bleeding in the two simple words yet weighing like a hundred. He can usually take it, dish it back with equal fervor to his best friend, but this time around, he can’t. 

This whole mess of a situation sits heavily on his shoulders and for the first time, any attempt to just barrel through a problem like he so often does seems pointless to Hajime. Because no matter how much he ignores, no matter how often he declines, the girls will continue to only see Seijoh's ace. Not Iwaizumi Hajime. 

He sighs. He doesn’t know what he was expecting in venting to his friends. Validation if they were any nicer, but deep down he knew it would take a different trajectory. 

Maybe they’re right; Maybe he is blowing this out of proportion. Maybe he should just accept the gifts, enjoy them while he can because the girls are choosing to do it. They’re not being held against their will, nor is anyone really being hurt by these peculiar circumstances. It's, theoretically, a win-win.

It doesn’t stop the pit in his stomach from sinking even lower when he sees girls stop their chattering in the hallways as he passes. It doesn’t stop the overwhelming feeling of disappointment he feels when he notices they stare at his biceps before his face before dashing away. 

 Matsukawa shuts his own locker with a grumble, “Must be nice.”

“You wanna take my place, Issei?” iwaizumi turns to look over his shoulder, meeting the mischievous twinkle of the middle blocker. 

“Yeah man, I do. Girls at my feet everyday bringing me food? That’s every guy’s dream.”

“Yeah, if every guy was a piece of shit like you.” The words tumble without second thought and Hanamaki finds himself clutching his stomach with laughter at the retort. He doesn’t mean to direct his anger at his friend, but it seeps into his words anyways. He’s lucky they’re good enough sports to take it in stride. Even if the twinkle in Matsukawa’s eyes dims and he grumbles a “shut up” while he slaps the back of Hanamaki’s head. 

He knows a solution— or sympathy— won’t be offered in his venting, adamant that this is something he needs to solve on his own, but he can’t help himself. He just has to get it out. “I can't even go to class normally anymore. There’s always a girl waiting for me.”

His back is turned towards his friends as he folds his gym clothes into the open cubby, but even despite the absence of his facial expression, the other three sitting near him can hear the exhaustion in his voice. Much as they might tease him, they’ve sat front and center to the slow decline of Hajime’s sanity and comfort as he was thrust suddenly into the spotlight that he was ill-prepared for. He’s laughably out of his element, but his plight is severe enough for all three of them to occasionally step in.

Hanamaki and Mattsun have had their fair share of instances in which they’ve had to redirect of a horde of girls hounding at them for Iwaizumi’s location, telling them that they had no idea where Iwaizumi could have gone when in fact, he was hiding in the clubroom. And while they would’ve been more than happy to send them his way just to watch him fluster and stutter, the two friends knew the momentary laugh wouldn’t have been worth the further depletion of Hajime’s confidence and happiness. Iwaizumi wants this attention to be for something genuine, for something that he was directly responsible for and can be proud of. Not something as surface value as an attractive body. 

Truth be told, all three of Seijoh's third years want to help him as much as Iwaizumi wants this to be over. But just like him, they have no idea what to do.

Hajime sighs again, “Don’t even get me started about when I’m with (Y/N). You think stalking is bad? Try having to deal with evil glares too.”

Scratch that. They have one idea.

The mention of the ace’s other best friend, the one that they’re all too familiar with, has all of Seijoh's members perking their heads upward in interest. A lightbulb going off simultaneously as they all share a glance with one another. Hanamaki looks up to Oikawa who looks to Mattsun who looks to Hanamaki. Their eyes darting between one another, telepathically asking the same question.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

Hanamaki and Mattsun finalize their answer with a hard stare at Oikawa and smirks on their faces. They both give a long nod to their captain and like the well-oiled machine the Seijoh Volleyball Team is known to be, a plan is formulated and put into action before anyone can blink. 

“Oh?” Oikawa prods, taking the initiative. His grin is suddenly more wicked than before, “How so?”

Iwaizumi notices the subtle change in tone in the conversation, can hear the smile in Oikawa’s words, but he doesn’t think much of it. Simply attributing it to the mention of the beloved figure they’re all acquainted with. He can’t blame them, finding his own mood has tipped upward at the mere thought of you. And while he has apologized to the moon and back for inadvertently getting you involved in this nightmare of a situation, there’s a resounding comfort he feels at knowing that there's at least one person on his side. One person that is willing to trudge through the mud with him, regardless of how often they complain.

Because whatever happens to him happens to you, you insist. So if he has to deal with a hundred fangirls, then so do you. 

He plows on, airing out his struggles and frustrations with his newfound attention. “They’re always staring at us, making the whole thing uncomfortable when we’re just hanging out. (Y/N) even told me she once got cornered in the girls’ bathroom during lunch.”

Oikawa gasps, always enthralled with any juicy gossip, especially on the rare occasion that it involves you— his beloved, headstrong, annoying other best friend. “What did they say?”

“Some weird shit about staying away from me, like I was their property.”

“And what did (y/n) say?”

Iwaizumi laughs, a genuine one that has been missing since this whole ordeal began. He turns to look at his friends, the smile reaching his eyes and pushing upwards on his cheeks. If they weren’t sure of their plan before, the happiness on his face was enough of a push to solidify it. The happiness that only someone specific can bring out. “It's (Y/N). What do you think she said?”

Oikawa, all too familiar with your personality and deviance from the norm since age ten, huffs out a laugh, “Hmm, let me guess, something about doing whatever she wants with whoever she wants.” 

“No, actually, she—” 

You’re washing your hands in the sink of the bathroom when you hear a cough from behind you. Looking upwards into the mirror, you are suddenly confronted with the reflection of six girls circling around you.

A groan tumbles out of your mouth. You knew something like this was bound to happen, jealousy always emerging victorious whenever girls were thirsting after a young man. You just didn’t think it would be happening so soon, only two months into the fanatic obsession with your best friend. It’s your fault really, you should’ve prepared for a moment like this to come. But as they all shoot daggers into your reflection you can’t help but recognize how woefully dreadful this is.  

You'd kill Hajime for inadvertently getting you into this if he wasn’t already feeling so guilty about it. 

Each one stares at you with an intense fury, and while you’ve never considered yourself to be much of a fighter, you’re mentally preparing yourself to throw a couple of punches in this cramped bathroom. You won’t win, six against one is hardly a story of triumph, but you’ll be damned if you get intimidated by this raging group of hormones. 

The faucet stops, with almost impeccable comedic timing, and a silence emanates throughout the area. It's awkward, painfully so and their silent stares are not helping.

“Uh… Can I help you?”

The one in the middle (the leader, you assume) stands with a hip jutted out and her arms crossed. You’ve seen her in passing before. Her eyes narrow at your question, “So, are you two dating?”

You have to force yourself to not roll your eyes. Of course this is where this was going. Because God forbid anyone have friends of the opposite gender. Indicator number one that the interest of these girls was superficial, considering if they even really had been interested in more than the prospect of having access to Iwaizumi’s body, they would’ve realized that you’ve been in his life for a lot longer than he’s had any redeeming qualities— including those rocking arms of his. 

You won't entertain this, something you’ve been adamant about even if Hajime has insisted you don’t , especially not when it's causing Iwa all this grief that you’ve had to comfort him through time and time again. 

“Who’s asking?” You all but bark back, patience wearing thin.

The one to the right of the leader— Pigtails, you’ve taken to calling her— scoffs and stomps her foot, “We are, obviously!”

Patience is below the ground now.

The left one, the one with pink hair, speaks this time, “Iwaizumi won’t even talk to us for more than a minute but he lets you hang around! So, if you’re not dating you have to tell us!”

“Why?”

“So that you can help us get closer to him!”

“Yeah, no.” you respond curtly, feeling rather nauseous at the lengths in which these girls are going just to get his attention. Cornering his friend and doing a piss-poor job at intimidating them into coercing them for information about him. No wonder Hajime's been feeling so depressed. 

Taking the piss out of him used to be fun, something you and Pikawa could share profound pleasure in, but now that it's at your front door and reeking of death, you’re quickly realizing just how much you owe that spiky haired idiot. 

You grab your bag that lay at your feet, turning to face the six girls with a mirthless smile despite the hatred burning in their eyes.

“Good luck with… whatever it is you’re trying to do.”

You’re almost out the door when the leader, who has puffed out her chest and taken a step forward  blurts out, “If you’re not going to help us, then you better stay out of our way.”

There are few people in this world that you’ve dreamt about punching. Oikawa has made the list a couple times, but that’s only when he’s being particularly obnoxious. Iwaizumi has too, usually when his hard headedness has conflicted with yours, but even then the situation is usually better within the next hour. 

But this girl, oh this girl, she has made the top of your list in record time. And you highly doubt she’s coming off of it anytime soon. And now that you’ve gotten a good look at her, you’re starting to remember exactly where you’ve seen her before.

You raise an eyebrow at her intimidation, “Or what?” 

(You have to pat your back for that one because you really sound like the scary third year you’ve always dreamt of being.)

She doesn’t falter in her misplaced confidence, a smile pulling at her lips, “If he’s not yours, then he’ll be one of ours soon enough. And I can promise you, every boyfriend I've ever had always dropped his girl best friends when I asked.”

“Uh huh,” you glance at your watch that shows there are only fifteen minutes left in lunch. Might as well start on your meal now.

You pull the backpack slung over your shoulder in front of you, unzipping the large pocket and pulling out a familiar container. The girls gasp when they see it. 

It's pink and has a little cat design on the front of it. Very cute and very distinct. You pop open the top, grabbing the milk bread that lies inside with your left hand and holding the lid and the box with your right. The lid is tilted forward, granting all the girls clear viewing of the cursive ink that lies on it.

The name is clear and the handwriting incredibly recognizable. The leader’s mouth gapes open.

You take a bite out of the treat, a dramatic moan escaping your mouth. You point at the girl, “Mm. You made this right?”

She doesn’t answer. None of them do. They only stare with wide eyes.

“I remember seeing you give this to Iwa this morning. It’s really good. He's not a big fan of milk bread, so he’s been giving them to me but I’ve enjoyed every single one of them! Although I am getting tired of eating the same thing over and over. So, if you’re taking suggestions, try Agedashi Dōfu. It's Iwa’s favorite.”

You lick your lips to make the point clearer. A gentle reminder of your place and their lack of one in his life. They seem to get it.

“Right then. Bye ladies! This was fun! I’m sure Hajime will be thrilled to hear all about it.”

Iwaizumi finishes recounting the story with a childlike wonder, meeting the furrowed brows and agape mouths of his friends with a joyous smile. There’s an unmistakable twinkle of affection in his eyes, one that he must not even realize is there. But it's noticeable, and his friends recognize it.

It's the same look he always gets whenever he talks about you. 

It was mean of you to humiliate those girls like that, he knows, but his smile when recounting the tale is more than indicative of his true feelings behind the action. He briefly lectured you about it after you told him, insisting that it was important to be nice to these poor girls who didn’t know any better, that you begrudgingly agreed to, but he thinks about it often. Thinks about it at practice, in the middle of class, and every time he sees you.

He didn’t know how he felt about it, but from the way it warmed his cheeks and filled his chest with a weird lightness, he knew he was ultimately appreciative of the action. Honored that you would stick up for him unapologetically and protect him from unassuming teenage girls.

It shouldn’t be much of a surprise. Were the roles reversed he would do the same for you in a heartbeat. But still, he thinks about it. A lot.

“I haven’t seen those girls since, but I have been getting a lot more Agedashi Dōfu, so I guess that’s a plus.” He shrugs his shoulders in nonchalance returning back to the contents of his locker but the remnants of a smile plays on his lips. 

“Well, how ‘bout that?” Oikawa coos. He steps closer to Iwa, placing his hands on the ace’s shoulders and giving them a good natured shake. 

“I think I have the perfect solution to your problem, Iwa-chan.”

**

“You want me chu do wha?” you ask, mouth full of milk bread as the boy in front of you conveniently avoids your eye contact. 

It's the seventh container he’s handed you this week, and while your little incident has quickly diminished the amount he usually receives, there are still the occasional stray containers with the sweet that he instinctively hands to you. 

This time it came in a purple container. No outlandish designs or stickers like the other ones, but there is a written poem on the top comparing his eyes to the dirt of the Miyagi mountains. You suppose that’s romantic, but your leniency only goes so far. Particularly when this poem has no clear rhyming pattern. 

You’ve long since passed the point of guilt for eating all of the treats that were clearly not meant for you. Hajime was much too conflicted with the gifts to even consider smelling them, so it serves as a solution to the problem to just give it to you. He doesn’t have to worry about maliciously taking advantage of these girls and you get food. 

Win-win.

And while you’re not that into milk bread (having eaten it almost everyday for the past couple of weeks), your consumption of it seems to give him some peace of mind. Out of sight, out of mind kind of thing. And really, that’s all you’ve ever wanted for him.

But this is going too far.

Swallowing the last piece of milk bread, you look up at the idiot from your place on the bench. He stands in front of you, hands shoved deep into his pockets and shuffling from foot to foot. 

“You’re joking, right?”

This is a joke. It has to be. There’s no way the world would be this cruel to you.

His eyes remain averted, his thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose as if it would wake him up from this endless nightmare, “Look, it’ll only be until I can get these girls to back off of me a little.”

“No.”

“Wha— (Y/N).” He breathes out, a twinge of desperation and pleading seeping into his voice as he finally looks into your eyes. He doesn’t know what he expects to see, but the pure and unadulterated seriousness is not one of them. He’s almost convinced to drop the subject altogether. Almost.

“Whose idea was this?” You practically growl out, closing the container and cleaning your surrounding area of any stray crumbs. You thrust your hand outward, shoving the container his way. He takes it from you without question.

“Does it matter?”

“Whose?”

“...Oikawa.”

Of course it was. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“(Y/N),” he says your name more forcefully. It’s the same tone he uses with Oikawa when he’s being whiny. It's enough of a bite to have you stop rearranging your items for a brief moment, meeting his determined gaze with one of your own. He stares intently, eyes unwavering in their silent plea to make you understand.

That’s the worst part about it. He’s serious, and he’s confident that this is the only way to solve the problem that’s been plaguing him for the past three months. 

If there's one thing you know about Iwaizumi Hajime, it’s that he’ll solve any problem on his plate and won’t stop until it's fixed. He’s responsible to a fault, refusing to burden others unless absolutely necessary. The fact that he’s viewing this to be the only solution and actually trying to persuade you is indicative enough of how desperate he is. 

Even more so indicative of how truly fucked you are, considering you’ve already made a decision before he even explains further.

Damn him and that hard head of his. 

Damn Oikawa for knowing what he does and still dragging you into this mess. No doubt he was thoroughly enjoying this.

“Will you please be my girlfriend?”

Damn that student council and their stupid fundraiser for getting Iwaizumi Hajime, the boy you’ve been best friends with since you were ten and had a crush on since you were thirteen, to ask you to be his fake girlfriend in order to thwart off hordes of fangirls. 

Damn you for already having an answer before you can even think twice.

Iwaizumi Hajime was hand sculpted by the gods, and they were all laughing at your expense now. 

end notes: whoop there it is. let me know what you all think! should i keep going? should i say fuck a degree and major in iwazumi hajime? idk man im about to.

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #hq x you #my writing #haikyuu!!

[random-imagines-blog]

Teenage Queen {Viktor Krum x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2835 Summary: Related to one Champion, ex of another and the budding love interest of a third. It’s one weird year.

Your final year at Hogwarts was not turning out to be as perfect as you had expected. You were just hoping that everything would go as normal; no deadly and dangerous adventures for your little brother Harry and his friends, no fighting with your boyfriend Cedric. Just a perfectly mediocre year where you focus on your studies, get good NEWTS and move on to train at your dream job. And then along came The Triwizard Tournament. Well, at least it was for Seventh Years only, and you had no intention of entering - and your fourth year brother certainly wouldn’t have a part to play in it, would he?

You couldn’t have one simple year at Hogwarts, could you? Not that you blamed your brother but ever since he had come along in his first year, things have been going wrong left, right and center. First, your boyfriend Cedric had been chosen as the Hogwarts champion, which he didn’t even tell you that he had entered. You were mad about that, but then when it came to the interviews and Rita Skeeter poking around, you had enough of it. Even his friends were coming along and asking questions about your personal life, since he was the only one of the FOUR champions to have a partner. This ended up in you breaking up with him, because he didn’t see the big deal about all of the intrusive questions. It was mutual, eventually, but you had to wear him down in order for him to see that it would be better if you spent some time apart.

And then Harry, sweet little Harry Potter who couldn’t catch a break, was chosen to be the Fourth Champion, which was entirely unheard of. You had charged into the room where the champions were and you gave Dumbledore a mouthful of words, as well as the Minister of Magic, but the rules were the rules and he had to compete. You tried throwing back that the rules had stated that it was only for Seventh Years, and that there was only to be one champion per school, but they claimed that their hands were tied. After that, you took Harry’s hand and pulled him out of there so the two of you could talk alone.

You were devastated. Especially in the coming days when it became apparent that a lot of people, including his best friend, thought that he had put his name in the Goblet of Fire. It was completely far away from Harry’s personality, and you vowed to help him through everything, studying your ass off on his tasks on top of your school work. He still had Hermione, though, and that was a relief. You were more worried about him than you had been about Cedric, whom you were convinced would do absolutely fine in the Tournament, and probably didn’t need your assistance.

-

You were sitting by the lake one day, doing your extra-curriculars. You took just the necessary classes this year, having dropped Divination and Arithmancy so you wouldn’t have to study as hard. But you were doing studies of your own, particularly in Russian. You wanted a job in which you got to travel the world, so you decided that taking languages, a course only done through talking books, was a good way to go. You were fluent in French, and learned more about pronunciation through the Beauxbatons students, but you didn’t know much Russian, so you decided to take that up so you could communicate with Durmstrang as well.

You were coming along pretty well, though your pronunciation needed some work. You were practicing in the weak sunlight of the Scottish Autumn, muttering to yourself. “Ya chuvstvuyu-” You started to pronounce, then realized it didn’t sound right, so you tried again. “Ya chuvstvuya,” You put more emphasis in, “-tvoyu lyubov segodnya.”

“Ochen khorosho!” The book praised back to you. You smiled, the romantic phases being something that you wanted to master. Okay, so maybe you weren’t entirely over the break-up with Cedric. It wasn’t him in particular, it was just having someone to care about, someone to care about you that you missed.

“Who var you talking to?” A puzzled voice said. You looked up from the speaking book to see that there was a student in front of you. You were so into your book that you hadn’t even noticed anyone approaching. The sun was behind him, casting his face in shadow, though the robes showed Durmstrang.

“Myself,” You said, then held up the book to show what you were doing. “Practicing Russian. I’m on the chapter of romantic phrases.”

The student looked delighted, and much to your surprise, he sat down with you, looking over the pages. It was only as he leaned over to take a closer look, his finger running across some of the words, which made the book giggle aloud, that you realized exactly who it was. You turned red at this realization - because it was nonother than celebrity champion Viktor Krum, who you had just seen at the World Cup. You remembered the way that Cedric had gushed over how good of a seeker he was, and how amazing his flying techniques were.

“This one good-” He said, pointing to a certain phrase and then said it out loud. You read along with it, your eyes following his finger, but he added more to the sentence, words that you weren’t sure of.

“What does that mean?” You asked, realizing that you were still as red as a rose at his close proximity. You tried to tell yourself to act natural, pretend that it wasn’t a celebrity - a very handsome celebrity - that was this close to you, but you found it impossible. It wasn’t everyday that someone came into your space like this. The last person had been Cedric, but the two of you didn’t spend any time together since the break up. Just nods in the hallways, and awkward grins if you had a class together. You haven’t tried to date anyone else since, though Rita kept coming up with stories about you cheating on him with other boys. You hoped she wasn’t snooping around now with that damn quill of hers.

“You var my paradise,” He said, in his heavily accented English. That part was in the book. “-My...” He looked around, as if having trouble with translation. He pointed up at the sky, and then did little flapping motions with his hands. When you gave him a puzzled look, he put his hands above his head, his index and thumbs together to make a circle.

“Heaven?” You asked. He shook his head so you took another guess after piecing it together. “Heaven?" He nodded, with a smile and then continued to look around. He then pointed straight towards the sun, which was hiding behind clouds. “Sun?” You guessed once more. He nodded again.

“You var my paradise - my heaven - my sun.” He said, looking quite proud of himself. And he was saying it while he was looking right at you, which just made you feel all the warmer. You hadn’t really given anyone attention since Cedric, and since most of Hogwarts thought you two were the dream couple, no one else had tried to hit on you. But here was Viktor Krum, reciting such lovely things for you in a language that you were only beginning to understand.

“Beautiful,” You muttered in his mother tongue, and he beamed as he recognized the word. Until it was no longer light enough to study, and you had to conjure up a light and keep it in a jar - thank you Hermione for that idea - in order to see anything, he helped you along with your studies. And yet, you never seemed to get past the chapter of romance. He introduced you to new phrases, and would practice with you until you had the pronunciation down perfectly. The book had been quiet for a while, having no critiques for you, you were doing so well. “Thank you so much - you taught me a lot,” You said, getting onto your feet.

“You’re velcome,” He said, bowing his head respectfully, jumping up effortlessly. You scrambled to put your book into your bag, and he helped you, holding your bag open for you. “Maybe you can help me,” He suggested. You tilted your head, questioning what this man could ever want help with. The first task had gone swimmingly for him, he was a Quidditch star, he was handsome to boot. “With een-glish.”

“Oh, of course!” You said with a grin. “I would love to help. Why don’t you meet me in the library on Saturday?”

-

Four different boys asked you to the Yule Ball, and you had said yes to only one of them - sort of. Unfortunately for Harry, it wasn’t his best friend Ron who just seemed desperate to go with anyone. When you told the two boys that you already had a date, your brother kept questioning who it was. He seemed to have a theory that you were back with Cedric, which couldn’t be further from the case. You just left them guessing, looking forward to seeing their faces when you appeared.

Thanks to the small fortune that your parents had left for you and Harry, you were able to afford a stunning dress. And with some small alterations, you could probably make it last forever. It was your favorite color, floor length with see-through sleeves and a pinched waist to really bring out your body shape.

That, along with your confident smile and you were ready to go.

Your date wasn’t in your house, in fact he wasn’t even from this school. You flushed as you remembered exactly what Viktor had done in order to ask you, and you had to applaud his trickiness. He had written out ‘Will you go to the ball with me’ in Russian, and asked you to translate it. You had done so, thinking that perhaps he wanted to ask out one of the many Hogwarts girls who had fawned after him throughout the hallways, but instead of repeating it back to you, he had said ‘Love to.’ It took you a minute to realize what he had done, and you couldn’t stop laughing once you had it figured out. You agreed with that, and your date was set.

You were going to the Yule Ball with a champion. That was what worried you the most. The attention that you were going to get since you and Viktor had to participate in a dance in front of the student body. He hadn’t had the time to practice, since his own Headmaster was keeping him busy with studying for the tasks, but you did have another willing partner. Your brother Harry. It was easiest with him since he had to do the same dance at the same time.

As you walked down the stairs with a couple of other girls who were meeting their dates, you were nervous to see if all of that practicing had paid off. You caught your brother’s eye as he went down the stairs and gave him a confident wink. He had asked out one of the Patil twins, you had heard, and you were very much looking forward to teasing him about it after all was said and done. Your date wasn’t at the bottom of the stairs in the herd like many of the other males, but further back, trying not to bring attention to himself. He stepped forward when you reached the foot of the staircase, maneuvering expertly through the people in his red suit, and held his hand out to you. You took hold of it, making many in the crowd gasp.

“Krum?” You heard your brother and his best friend say in unison.

You gave a teasing little wave to them as you were lead into the Great Hall, which had been transformed into a beautiful ballroom for the occasion. It looked like a winter wonderland in here, and it took your breath away. You were given a grand entrance, where Viktor, Fleur and Harry were also introduced, before taking part in the dance. You couldn’t help but notice that you were also getting looks from Cedric, who was here with Cho Chang, a pretty Ravenclaw.

You ignored all of those looks, focusing on Viktor, and Viktor alone. He remained the stiff, very concentrated man that you had gotten to know through your studies, though once in a while, when no one was looking, he smiled. The dance went off without a hitch, which was amazing considering he had to lift you. That’s the part that you were nervous about, but his strong arms managed to do the task and you felt safe throughout. You did feel a little better once both feet were on the ground.

Once the dance was over, and the band began playing something less traditional and upbeat, you were able to blend more into the crowd. “I get us drinks,” Viktor winked, giving you a thumbs up as he departed from your side for the first time of the night. You felt even more flushed by the wink than you did by the dance, so you leaned back against one of the columns and took a glance to see who had brought whom.

You smiled as you watched Harry and Ron sitting, refusing to dance with their dates. An older Gryffindor had asked Hermione, and the two of them were out on the dance floor. For the first time, it seemed like the school was entirely at peace. Houses with other houses and schools with other schools. You couldn’t help smiling as Hagrid danced with Madame Maxime. Even Dumbledore had a turn on the dance floor.

“May I have a dance?” A familiar voice said from next to you. You turned to look into those honey colored eyes that had made you swoon the year before, but now - now you just felt nothing. And it was great to just feel nothing.

“I don’t think so,” You said, smiling through your rejection. “Viktor will be back any minute with some drinks. I’m absolutely parched.”

“He wouldn’t let you dance with an old friend?” Cedric asked, raising an eyebrow. You saw through what he was doing, unfortunately. Playing the nice guy. You realized that him seeing you with Viktor must really have gotten under his skin.

“I’m sure he would,” You said, demurely. This was like something right out of a book for teenagers. A love triangle - but you weren’t going to let it be that way. That required feelings for the third person, and you no longer had that. Still, you felt like some sort of Queen with all of the attention that you were getting. “But I honestly just want to save every dance for him. He’s a wonderful dancer, must come with being a professional athlete. Did you see him out there?”

“I did,” Cedric conceded. “And I saw how happy you were - so I’m happy for you, y/n.”

“I’d hope so,” You said, spotting Viktor coming forward. You excused yourself from Cedric, and went to meet him, taking the glass of punch from his hands. You noticed that for the first time in the night, he wasn’t looking at you, but was scowling over at Cedric. You had told him about your past with Cedric, and about your brother being Harry. It hadn’t worried him at all that you were close with two of the other contestants, or at least it hadn’t until now. “Thank you,” You said, laying your hand upon his arm as you took a sip from the glass goblet.

“Vhat did he vant?” Viktor asked, pointing his chin towards Cedric, who was still standing by the column, looking at you solemnly. You shook your head as the ugly beast called jealousy made an appearance.

“He wanted to tell me that he’s happy for me, that I’m here with you,” You said, smiling, since it was a truth, though maybe not the whole truth. “And I must say, I share the feeling.”

The stoic look remained on Viktor’s face for a moment more. You didn’t like it. This was supposed to be a happy occasion. You leaned in and pressed a kiss onto his stubbled cheek, and grew excited as it seemed to light up. He was finally smiling once again, and you both turned so your backs were towards your ex. “Vant to dance?” He asked, draining his own cup.

“With you?” You said, leaning in so you could rest his head on his broad shoulder. “All night long.”

#Viktor Krum #Viktor Krum x reader #Viktor Krum oneshot #Harry Potter #Harry Potter oneshot #request #oneshot #one shot #viktork #x reader

[wlntrsldler]

unrequited (draco malfoy/cedric diggory series)

PROMPT: You and Cedric grew up together. After the tragedy of the Triwizard Tournament, you’re left feeling empty without your best friend. Draco Malfoy steps into the picture. Will the feelings be reciprocated? Or will it be unrequited?

WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst, fluff, sadness???

PAIRING: draco malfoy x reader and cedric diggory x reader; hufflepuff reader

WC: 2.2K+

UNREQUITED MASTERLIST

-

PART 1

“You know you're my best friend, right?” Cedric muttered from beside you, nudging the side of your rib with his elbow. “Always will be.” 

The final stage of the Triwizard tournament was creeping up behind you. It was said to be one of the most dangerous obstacles in history. Cedric acted smug about it, acting like the idea of death didn’t phase him one bit. In front of other Hufflepuffs, he let out an empty chuckle, declaring that the TriWizard cup would be home on the mantle of the Hufflepuff common room by the end of it all. But during the moments where only he and you existed in the world, his lips quivered and his breath was broken as he explained to you how much he loved you. 

During Cedric’s first two years at Hogwarts, he would come home and tell you all about his year. He would teach you spells in secret and make potions with you so by the time you entered as a first-year, you were already ahead of everyone else. He would spend his days and nights with you when he wasn’t at Hogwarts. Fellow students would make fun of him for how often he would receive owls with your name attached to the back of the envelope. 

Cedric was your best friend. Always will be. 

“Of course, I know, you silly man.” You huffed, turning your head to face him. He was staring at you, eyes twinkling under the soft glow of the lonely moon. The air was crisp and the winds were quiet. The only thing that could be heard was the soft whispers between the two of you and if one were to focus enough, the incessant beating of Cedric’s heart rattling in his chest and the breaking of your heart in yours. “Why are you telling me this?” 

He sighed, gulping down any sign of false bravado. He knew he never had to fake with you. You always did understand him, better than anyone ever could. “Y/N… Tomorrow’s obstacle is said to be deadly. I just wanted to tell you how much I love you in case it’s the last thing I’ll ever say to you.” 

“Nonsense,” You replied, waving a hand in front of his face. You shook your head, not accepting the venomous words that slip past his lips. You blinked away the tears pricking your eyes, fearing that if you even let one drop slip, it might become a reality. “You’re Cedric Diggory. Nothing can break you.” 

Cedric laughed a hearty laugh, startling the small animals finding sanctuary within the bushes that stayed static beside your bodies. His finger absently traced the scar on your hand, one that you got a few years back as you hid behind the Whomping Willow before you knew of its capabilities. Cedric rushed over to you once he heard you yelp in pain, a few meters away from the irritated creature. You ended up with Madam Pomfrey for a night and a half and the scar was the constant reminder you had of the memory. “Can you at least say it back?” 

“Fine,” You playfully rolled your eyes, grinning at the sound of his laugh. It was your favorite thing. “You, Cedric Diggory, are my best friend. For now and for always.” 

Cedric beamed and slowly started to sit up. You followed his actions and took his arm once he offered it to you. He led you a few steps towards the secret passageway that you both took most nights to get away before stopping. You cocked your head to the side, shooting him a puzzled look. He suddenly hugged you, tightly as if you were his lifeline, and mumbled incoherent, sweet, nothings into your ear. Cedric placed his chin on the top of your head, a single tear landing on your crown, making you shiver. “I’m scared, Y/N.” 

You let out a broken sigh, digging your fingertips into the muscle of his back. You feel his warmth radiating on the side of your cheek, suddenly feeling wet. You hadn’t noticed the tears slipping from your eyes. It was quickly, too quickly, starting to feel like a reality. “Me too, Ced.” 

-

“What do we have here?” A smug voice sneered from behind you. You and Hermione twisted your heads to look at the man harboring the posh voice. Malfoy. “A Hufflepuff and a mudblood. Pathetic duo, if you ask me.” 

The boy was dressed in all black, a hint of emerald green in the silver pin that he sported on his vest. Crabbe and Goyle stood behind him, smiles reaching their eyes as they followed the Slytherin prince around. Draco’s hair fell perfectly to frame his face, loose strands looking intentional as they landed on the areas that made him look ethereal. It was unfair really, how beautiful Draco Malfoy was. He was like straight out of a painting; pale skin, soft hair, pink lips, that often contrasted his dark exterior and his detestable character.

“Get out of here, Malfoy.” You spat, narrowing your eyes at him. “Why are you even here? I’m sure all of us would have a lovelier time if you went on your merry way.” 

“You’re a courageous little Hufflepuff, aren’t you?” He teased, words dripping with distaste. “I’ll have you know that I’m here to watch Potter crumble into pieces. Although, I’ll also settle for Diggory if it comes down to it.” 

You let out an angry huff, “Oh, you little shi-”

“Y/N, don’t.” Hermione placed a hand on your shoulder, holding you back. “He’s not worth it.” 

Draco chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “A mudblood telling me my worth? Comedy. Where’s your boyfriend? Did Dumbledore finally get tired of housing the neverending line of Weasley scums?” He turned to Crabbe and Goyle. “Took him long enough.” 

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Malfoy.” Ron chirped up from behind the three boys, three butterbeers in hand. “But I’m still here and I’m not going anywhere.” 

Draco rolled his eyes but left without another word, the two boys following him as soon as he took his first step. Ron took his spot beside you and Hermione, passing you the butterbeers. The three of you looked down to where Harry and Cedric stood, the two boys in deep focus before the final round started.

Cedric’s eyes wandered the arena, stopping when his met yours. He smiled, teeth uncontained behind his lips and raised a thumb up. You mirrored his actions, raising your butterbeer in celebration of him making it this far. Dumbledore called for Cedric’s attention, letting him know that it was soon to begin. He nodded and got ready. Before the sound of the cannon, he turned to look at you one last time and mouthed, “I love you.” Just as you were going to reply, the cannon went off and Cedric disappeared into the darkness. 

You heard disgruntled mumbling from a few people beside you. You turned and saw Draco with his eyebrows furrowed, staring at you. His cheeks were dusted with the mellowest shade of pink when he saw that you caught him staring. He quickly turned away, bottom lip caught between his teeth. You continued to stare, unable to decipher the look on the boy’s face. His eyes darted back to look at you, awkward under your intense fascination. 

“Y/N?” Hermione’s voice pulled you out of your daze. She waved her hand in front of you, growing concerned. “Hello, Y/N?”

You snapped your attention back to her, blinking a few times to adjust your view. “I’m sorry, what?”

Ron laughed, taking a sip from his butterbeer. He motioned to where Cedric stood earlier, “She asked if you finally told Cedric how you felt about him.” 

You shook your head, eyes growing wide. “I told you guys. I’ll never tell Cedric how I feel. It’s not like he’ll return the feelings anyway.” 

“Have you seen the way he looks at you?” She asked, a slight irritation to her voice. “Sweetheart, that’s how every girl wants to be looked at. He’s so in love with you. It always baffled me how you never noticed.” 

“Hermione,” You groaned, staring at your stubborn friend. “He doesn’t look at me in any way. He sees me as his best friend, nothing more.” 

“Are you bloody stupid?” Ron responded, backing Hermione up. He ran his fingers through his ginger hair, tugging at the ends in frustration. “We’ve known the two of you for a fraction of the time you two have known each other and even we can see that you two are madly in love!”

“We agree.” 

You looked past Ron’s shoulder to see the Weasley twins, grinning and nodding in agreement with their brother. 

 “You two don’t even know Cedric.” 

Fred cocked an eyebrow, “We’ll have you know, we have Potions class together. He always wants to partner with us.”

“So yes, dear Y/N. We do know Cedric.” George chimed in. 

“Well perhaps you do know him,” You trailed off. “But that doesn’t mean you guys know what he’s feeling. You’re just guessing.” 

“It’s not guessing when he said it himself.” 

Your eyes widened at the twins’ revelation. As you were about to question the two boys, a loud commotion caught everyone’s attention. All of you turned to the source of the sound to find Draco and a shattered glass of butterbeer pooling at Crabbe’s feet. His eyes narrowed, shooting daggers in your direction. 

He spat, “Are we here to gossip or are we here to watch the Triwizard tournament?”

All of you remained silent, not knowing the reason for his sudden outburst. The words that the twins let slip danced in your thoughts the entire time. Everyone’s patience ran thin as the competition seemed to drag on. People left and returned upon hearing any sign of movement. You stayed, however, no matter how long it took for anyone to come back. You looked down at your yellow sweater, the initials “C.D” embroidered on the left sleeve. 

Cedric got you the sweater the summer before your first year at Hogwarts. He picked it up at a shop at Hogsmeade, in yellow, confident that you were going to be placed in the same house as him. He knew you were always scared that you were going to be separated into a different house so he did little things to put your mind at ease. ‘I’ll be by your side no matter what happens but in your heart and mine, you’ll always be a Hufflepuff.’ 

You smiled at the memory, rubbing your thumb over the golden thread. You looked up at the sound of shuffling feet, moving away from you. You saw Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle making their way out, growing impatient with the lack of gore, you assumed. The blond boy disappeared behind the doors, slipping away from your line of vision. 

You were on your third butterbeer, eyes slowly fluttering closed when you heard an audible gasp coming from everyone in the crowd. Your eyes shot open and watched as Harry and Cedric appeared in front of everyone. Harry’s body was covering Cedric. 

You stood up, wanting to get a better look. You couldn’t wait to hug Cedric and congratulate him. Then you heard someone wail. Mr. Diggory. 

Your knees buckled as you heard him yell and scream as he rushed down the steps to meet Cedric. The breath was knocked out of your lungs as you leaned against the barricade for support. You felt Hermione and Ron hold you up, stopping you from falling through. You were breathing unevenly, chest rising rapidly. 

“Y/N?” Mr. Diggory called, head twisting in every direction trying to look for you. “Where’s Y/N?” 

You shoved Hermione and Ron away, apologizing in your head for your roughness and ran down to meet him. You tripped over your own feet a few times, eyes not being any help as tears clouded your vision. The cold air was hitting your overly bitten lips, the cracks and scars growing sensitive with each breath. You pushed past everyone and fell to your knees when you got a good look at Cedric. 

“Y/N…” You heard Harry say. “I’m so sorry.” 

“W-why are you apologizing, Harry?” You questioned, stuttering over your words. “He’s okay. He’ll wake up.” 

You didn’t realize that Ron and Hermione followed you until you heard Hermione’s broken cry after you said those words. You turned around and saw her face buried in Ron’s shoulder, a protective arm wrapped around the small of her back. 

“Y/N…” Harry tried again, reaching out for you. 

You pulled away, nearly crawling over to Cedric. You leaned close to him, a broken smile on your face. You whispered, “Ced, I’m here. Wake up, Ced. You did it. Ced?” 

“Y/N..” 

“No!” You yelled, shaking Cedric's body. “Ced, wake up.”

“Miss Y/L/N.” Dumbledore called for you, looking down at your pleading face. His eyes pooled with tears. “He didn’t make it.” 

You crumbled into Cedric’s unmoving body. His eyes were still open, blankly staring back at you. The love and adoration that once swam in his pupils were gone and replaced with a gray smoke. Death. You sobbed into his chest, clinging onto his lifeless limbs. Your piercing cries shook everyone to their core, the entire arena falling silent as Mr. Diggory wrapped his arms around you and his son. 

You placed your left arm under him, clutching him closer to your body. His blood stained the embroidery of his initials on your sweater, a painful memory overpowering your once sweet one.

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