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army-author · 3 years

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jungkook scenario | the alchemy of amor

❝ jungkook is the arrogant son of the duke. you’re a humble alchemist just trying to make a living. unfortunately for you, jungkook seems to have taken a strange interest in you. when a dangerous wager involving a love potion spirals out of control, you find yourself flung into the deep end of emotion, and it becomes difficult to decipher genuine attraction from magical aftereffect... ❞

➝ prompt: i’m a witch who’s been experimenting with love-potion formulas, but there’s been a bit of a mix-up, and now the love-potion has somehow ended up in your hands, and you’re drinking it, and - no, please stop!

➝ pairing: jungkook x female reader

➝ genre: fluff, fantasy au, enemies to lovers

➝ requested by anon | 15.5k words

➝ warnings: profanity, mild injury, implied smut, some characters express misogynist sentiments

➝ author’s note: i hope you enjoy it! i had a lot of fun writing it. as you can see from the word count, i got a bit carried away. i can’t help it, i love enemies to lovers!

Oh goddess above, please not this. Anything but this.

You are not wont to pray, but in circumstances such as this, with your life unravelling before you in tattered ribbons, your mind recalls the goddess you so often forget. Watching in horror, your supplications come thick and fast, as Jeon Jungkook downs the phial of rose-gold potion, and with it, swallows the hours of work you had invested into those shimmering contents.

Normally, you would not be so perturbed by the wasting of a potion, even one as rare as Impetus Amor. Ingredients can always be re-bought, potions can always be re-brewed. But something about Jungkook’s cocky expression as he sets down the vial, and raises a brow at you, overwhelms you with the heat of irrational fury.

“Mighty goddess above, what is wrong with you?” you spit venom more potent than your potions. “You know very well how long that took to brew!”

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, “Tough.” He smacks his lips together, “Looks like the potion doesn’t work anyway. And on top of that, it tastes bad. Like dried roses and soap.”

How does he know what dried roses and soap taste like?

“It wasn’t intended for you,” you retort through gritted teeth.

You know that the potion does work. After all the work you invested - collecting rose-petals, gold shavings, and pegasus feathers, all to be brewed on a blue moon, and then carefully distilled – there was no way that the batch of Impetus Amor was unsuccessful. But every alchemist worth their gold knows that the finicky love potion takes a few minutes to take effect after ingestion.

Which means that in a few minutes Jeon Jungkook, the man you hate most, will involuntarily fall in love with you.

How could I let this happen? You cast your mind over the unfortunate events that had led you to this low point, while you stifle a scream.

✽ ✽ ✽

[Several days ago]

It starts when one of your customers steps into your potions shop, in the town of Sientha, with a peculiar order.

She wears a red hood that covers most of her face, and clutches a purse tightly in her gloved hand. Glancing furtively around the shop, she walks over to your counter, and slips a note between the demijohns and ampuls that crowd the area where you work.

Upon unfolding her note, your eyes widen. The note reads: ‘One vial of Impetus Amor’. You focus your eyes on the client, who keeps her head down. You can just make out shapely lips and a dainty chin below the lowered hood.

“I know it’s a difficult potion to make,” she says in a hushed tone, “But I’m willing to pay whatever you need for it.”

You study her intently. Below the cloak, you can see an expensive dress, and jewellery sparkling at her neck. It’s clear that she has the means to pay. In most circumstances, you would object to the use of Impetus Amor, but it is not your responsibility to tell your customers how to use your potions. You simply get on with brewing, and ask no questions. That’s how you make a living. This case wouldn’t be any different.

“Okay,” you say, “I must warn you that it will take quite a while to make, and most of the ingredients are quite rare, so the wait may be long.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

You nod, leaning against the counter, as you tally up how much the potion will cost in ingredients and labour. When you finally name your price, the woman is silent for a moment, contemplating, before she nods, and rummages in her purse. She takes out a small brown sack, heavy with coin, which she places in front of you. Counting up the money, you nod in satisfaction. “You’re in luck. There’s a blue moon soon, and the potion should be ready not long after. Roughly five weeks,” you advise, “Come by to collect it when you’re able.”

Satisfied, the woman leaves the shop, while you gape at the sack of coins on your counter top. You hadn’t had that much money to your name in a long time.

Impetus Amor – the potion is infamously difficult to create, but you’re ready for a challenge. Spinning around to the shelf of tomes behind you, you scour the tittles until you find the one you need. You pull the tome down from its shelf, holding your breath as a fog of dust descents around you. So it begins.

✽ ✽ ✽

The first mistake you make is accepting the request from the mysterious woman who came into your shop.

Your second mistake is letting Jungkook into your shop. Or letting Jungkook anywhere near you at all.

Jungkook is the only son of the duke of Braewyth, the duchy you reside in - a hobbyist alchemist and your tormentor in his spare time. When he had first barged into your potion shop, and declared that he wanted to learn the art of alchemy, you were led to the conclusion that he was a pretentious prick. This suspicion proved to be correct, as after a few lessons from you – out of the goodness of your heart, and the impossibility of saying ‘No’ to the heir of the duchy – Jungkook believed himself to be better than you with your fifteen years of experience. He was now convinced that the two of you were rivals, and you were convinced that he was a pain in the arse.

As you work on crushing down dried rose petals for your new project, Jungkook barges into your shop once more. He doesn’t seem to know of any other way to make an entrance into your tiny business. He leans over the counter, his eyes burning on your skin as you work.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Preparing ingredients for Impetus Amor.”

His nose wrinkles as he leans back on the counter, crossing his arms over his overcoat, embroidered with the emblem of the duchy, a snow white stag on a blue shield. “Ah, the potion of love,” he muses, “I’ve heard that one’s incredibly difficult to make.”

“I know,” you grimace, as you continue to grind rose petals to a fine red dust in your stone mortar. “What of it, Mr. Jeon?”

The duke’s son gives an impartial shrug. “I’m merely stating that it’s a laborious potion to perfect. I’m surprised you’re attempting it.”

You bite down on your cheek to stop yourself from speaking indecently to Braewyth’s heir. “My customers respect me, and know that I’ll carry out any requests with the utmost care,” you cut back with thinly veiled anger.

Jungkook leans back lazily, his elbow brushing dangerously close to a decanter filled with Verum Serum, a silver truth potion you’ve been working on. “Well then, my little apothecary, why don’t we make a wager?”

You raise an eyebrow, setting down your mortar, and waiting for him to continue.

“I’m willing to bet that you won’t be able to finish the potion,” Jungkook says, “In fact, if you finish it, and it works, I’ll pay you in gold.” He grins.

“And if I can’t?” you enquire. It’s an unlikely option, but you need to know what you are dealing with. You find it difficult to refuse the offer of money, especially if it’s a loss for Jungkook, but you’re wary of the consequences on the (very low) chance that you are unsuccessful.

“Don’t worry,” Jungkook raises a hand, “I know you can’t pay much gold.” Your cheeks heat up. “But if you lose, then I demand a kiss from you.”

Biting down a retort, you take a deep breath, and remind yourself that it is unacceptable to call the son of the duke a ‘Bastard’, no matter how much you want to. Instead, with your fists balling, you reply, “Very well, Mr. Jeon. But please be prepared to lose.”

His eyes glitter under your gaze, “Okay.”

You know that there is no way you can lose. Still, the very thought of admitting defeat and letting him kiss you has your blood boiling as it churns through your heart. You ought to show more respect to the son of the duke - to most a kiss from him would be an honour - but your find respect hard to muster when he does nothing but flirt with the ladies about the town of Sientha, strutting arrogantly down the streets with a different girl handing off his arm each night.

It’s Jungkook’s loss for certain. You’ll make sure of that.

✽ ✽ ✽

Despite your confidence, Jungkook does everything he can to get in your way.

The next morning you raise yourself early from your bed to head into the mountains in search of pegasus feathers. Jungkook catches you on your walk between your shop and the stables, with your satchel slung across your back, and a grenadine-coloured cloak covering your riding boots and trousers. He saunters across the cobbled street to greet you. “Look at you. Out and about. It’s not often I see you step out of the comforts of your shop.”

“Perhaps if you were up earlier, it wouldn’t be such an irregular occurrence for you,” you chide, as you make for the bridge to the east, leading out of Sientha, “I often go out in the morning to track down ingredients.”

“My apologies that I don’t know your schedule by heart, little alchemist,” Jungkook ripostes, keeping pace with you, short steps for his longer legs, “I’ll have you know that I have many duties that keep me in the Braewyth manor until later in the day.”

Uninterested, you reach the stables where your ebony mare waits, whickering in recognition when you reach her stall. You begin saddling up, annoyed by the presence of Jungkook behind you, which you try to ignore – but like a fly buzzing around an empty room, it gets too irritating too quickly. “Are you planning on following me around all day like a cur in heat?” you ask, and Jungkook smirks, clearly amused to have scratched at some deep seated vexation inside you.

“That’s no way to talk to me, little alchemist,” he reminds you, waggling a taunting finger.

You sigh, adjusting the bridle on your mare. “Please excuse me, my good sir,” you lace your voice with sarcasm, “It wan’t my intention to offend. I was simply surprised to see someone like you showing an interest in my humble activities.” You offer him a sickly sweet smile, before hoisting yourself up into your saddle.

Ignoring your mockery, Jungkook looks up at you from under your dark lashes, “Well, where are you headed today?”

You bite down on your instinctual reply, thinking better of telling him it’s none of his business. “I’m going to the mouth of the River Waye. It’s rumoured that a pegasus has nested there, and I need its feathers.”

“For the Impetus Amor?” Jungkook’s eyes gleam.

You bow your head in a nod.

“Excellent. I’d love to come with you,” Jungkook sates, “I’ve never seen a real pegasus.”

As you open your mouth, ready to deny him, he interrupts, “You offered to tutor me on alchemy after all. Ingredient collection is a vital part of the hobby.”

I never offered to tutor you, you simply thrust your cumbersome presence upon me. Before you can say any of this out loud, Jungkook is calling for one of the stable hands to saddle up one of their horses. “Mr. Jeon, need I remind you that this hobby is a source of income for some,” you’re left to respond, somewhat hopelessly, as Jungkook stares up at you in your saddle.

Your mare shifts restless, unsure why she’s still cooped in her stable.

“If it’s such a burden to earn a livelihood, then I’m sure you could find some kind husband who’d be more than happy to take care of you,” Jungkook responds, “With looks like yours, you’d never have to work another day in your life.”

Your blood boils in frustration. You bite down on your lip, watching in cold silence as the stable hand brings a chestnut stallion over to Jungkook, handing him the reins. Your horse senses your unease, and with a prick of your heels in her side, she’s all too happy to trot out of the stable and into the harsh sunshine of the winter morning.

Jungkook follows behind, his stallion’s horseshoes clacking on the cobblestones.

“I’ll have you know, Mr. Jeon,” you say, controlling your tone as best you can, “I’m perfectly content making a living for myself, and am in no need of a husband.”

“And what of it?” Jungkook spurs on his horse, overtaking you as you reach the bridge out of Sientha, where the town guards immediately part, recognising the duchy crest on Jungkook’s overcoat.

As you follow over the bridge, Jungkook casts a look over his shoulder at you, “You wish to spend your whole life brewing potions, and die an old maid?”

“I know of worse fates,” you say, “I would rather live as a lowly alchemist than the chattel of some rich cretin such as yourself.”

Jungkook falls into silence, face frosty, and you wonder if your pushed things too far.

As you continue down the road, the quality of the surface worsens, with more potholes appearing the further you travel from Sientha. Fallen mute, you and Jungkook pass fields, appearing empty after the harvests of autumn.

It’s a long way to the mouth of the River Waye, which lies in the valley between two mountains, Mount Cantre and Ayn Blanch. The two peaks rise above you in the distance. As you branch off the main road onto a dirt track, you allow your mare to break into a gallop, and Jungkook urges his horse on to keep up with yours. You cast a glance over to him as he keeps stride beside you, his jaw set and his brows furrowed over dark eyes. With your gaze fixed, you almost miss the shouting, until the ruckus is directly behind you. Snapping your neck around, you see a group of Braewyth soldiers approaching on horseback. You pull on your mare’s reigns, attempting to bring her to a halt, but the soldiers are already upon you, passing by on the narrow track. Your skittish mare rears as the soldiers rush past, and you find your view turned upside down. Thrown from the saddle, you land on your rear in a soft pile of moss. You’re lucky to have nothing but your pride bruised.

Jungkook brings his horse to a halt next to you, and leaps down from his saddle, catching your spooked mare’s reigns, before she makes to bolt. Soothing the black horse with hushed murmurs, Jungkook leads her to a nearby tree, where he ties the reigns to a low hanging branch. “Are you alright?” he turns his attention back to you.

You wince, and take his hand, allowing him to pull you up. “Yes, I’m okay. Just a little shaken.”

“Good.” His voice is gruff, “Those bloody soldiers. I wonder if they realise who they just overtook. I’ve a mind to report them to my father.”

“Don’t bother,” you dust down your cape, “Everyone knows the Braewyth soldiers are bloated with pride after the last success in war.”

Jungkook snorts. “That war was three years ago. Their only responsibility now is to protect the people of the duchy, and they can’t even do that!” He heaves a sigh, eyes cast to the sky, where the harsh sun shines down from an empty winter sky. “No matter, we’re wasting time here. If you’re sure you’re alright, then we should crack on.”

You walk over to untie your mare, who has now calmed down and is happily grazing on some grass by the side of the road. Hoisting yourself into your saddle, you edge her on with a soft nudge of your heels. Ahead of you, Jungkook has already mounted his ride, patting the neck of his stallion. You’re almost in a mind to apologise to Jungkook for calling him a “cretin” earlier, but you bite back the words, pride getting in the way.

You continue the journey in silence. The path is long, and as your altitude increases, the temperature plummets. Shivering, you pull your cloak closer around you. Your mare huffs out puffs of warm breath as she trots down the winding track, weaving between the smaller hills that spread towards the Braewyth mountains. Further ahead, Jungkook is hunched down in his saddle, looking cold, but staying stubbornly silent.

At last, you come to the edge of the valley, and begin to follow the track next to the shallow section of the River Waye. The banks are padded with moss, and you spot the sleek shining bodies of carp flickering in the crystalline water.

Slowing your mare, you slip off your mount, and tie her to a barren tree at the edge of the water. Ahead of you, Jungkook, having noticed you have stopped, dismounts as well. “Are we there?” he asks.

You nod, putting a finger to your lips. With a hushed voice, you respond: “Nearly. But we need to proceed on foot. Pegasus are incredibly skittish. We’ll be quieter without the horses.”

Passing Jungkook, you follow the winding path next to the Waye, stepping on the spongy moss to silence your footsteps. The two mountains rise up on either side of you – on the left, Ayn Blanche, its peak capped with snow, and on the right, Mount Cantre, sitting squat in Ayn Blanche’s shadow. The valley in between is adorned with scree; clumps of heather dot the otherwise drab landscape.

You slow to a stop when your sharp eyes catch sight of what you were hoping for – hoof prints and loose white hairs caught on a bramble. Leaning down, you pick up a strand of hair, running your fingers over it. Course and thick, there’s no denying it. The hair from a pegasus’ mane.

“There’s a pegasus somewhere around here,” you inform Jungkook in a hushed tone, pointing out the hoof prints to him.

Staying silent, oddly obedient, Jungkook nods, eyes scanning the area.

Carefully, you make your way along the trail of hoof prints. Ahead of you, you spot an opening on the steep flank of Ayn Blanche, a few meters from the base. It appears to be the perfect spot for a pegasus nest, tucked away from the wind that normally sweeps through the valley. Walking to the base, you search for a good foothold, and begin to hoist yourself up the craggy slope to the opening.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Jungkook breaks his unofficial vow of silence.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you huff, “I’m getting up to the pegasus’ nest.”

“Isn’t that dangerous work for… well...” Jungkook trails off. Probably for the best.

“I’ve climbed my fair share of rock faces,” you assure him, “Alchemy isn’t just about sitting daintily at a table stirring tiny beakers and keeping one’s hands soft and free of callouses.”

“But won’t the pegasus be angered if you enter its nest?” Jungkook worries from below.

As you stretch to reach for a rock that juts out above you, you grunt, “You know, Mr. Jeon, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were concerned for my wellbeing.”

You’re disappointed that you cannot look down to see the pout that is so evident in his voice as he retorts, “Well it wouldn’t look good if I were to go out with a young maiden, and return back with her maimed. People might talk.”

“People will always talk, regardless,” you say, pulling yourself up to the ledge at the front of the opening. “Don’t fear, Pegasus are only aggressive to those they deem to have a wicked soul. Which means I’ll be fine. But you might need to watch out.”

Before Jungkook can shoot back a reply, you turn your attention to the opening that houses the nest. The space is large, big enough for a pegasus. Peering in, you see that the nest is empty of any life, but the small cave is filled with exactly what you need – feathers caught on the rocky outcroppings. Pulling out a bottle from your satchel, you scoop up a few feathers, and preserved them in your glass. The feathers sparkle slightly in the sunshine that throws slanted rays into the cave. Satisfied with your find, you get ready to climb back down.

Just then, you hear a shout, and peer down to see Jungkook waving his hands at you from the bottom of the steep rock face. He gesticulates wildly, pointing downstream. You look in that direction, a spot the white shape of a pegasus, just before it plummets down with a splash into the Waye.

Quickly, you scramble down the rocks, and sprint to the river, where you see the water running red. An arrow is sticking from the flank of the pegasus, which raises its head above the water, straining to get up, before it flops down again. Horrified, you scan the area, trying to figure out where the arrow was fired from. It doesn’t take you long. Two poachers approach, a net swinging from their hands.

“Oi, get away from that creature,” one of them shouts upon spotting you.

“What are you going to do with it?” you ask, moving your body to block the pegasus.

“We’re going to make a fortune peddling off it’s body parts to alchemists,” the shorter of the two informs you, “Those occultists pay a hefty price for hair and feathers you know, not to mention a fresh heart, or a vial of blood.”

You grit your teeth, standing up straighter, “It’s a negative stereotype that alchemists use blood and hearts in their potions. And the hair and feathers are only useful if they’ve come from a living creature. You’re wasting your time if you think you’ll make money killing and harvesting this animal.”

The taller one laughs – an ugly sound that sends a shudder through you. “And what would you know about alchemy, wench? If I have questions about my cooking, or my laundry I’ll come to you. So how about you keep your mouth shut on things you know nothing about?”

Stifling your rage, your bite back, “I’m not letting you near this creature. Not one step further.”

“Oh, well, aren’t you just a darling bloody saint. Protecting the innocent fauna of the land. I don’t remember asking for a sermon on the morality of killing dumb animals.” Your eye catches the movement of the taller man’s hand to the hilt of his sword. “Now, I would suggest you get out of the way, before I make you get out of the way.”

You size the two men up, and swallow. You have a small dagger on your hip, usually used for cutting plant shoots. Not much use against two swords. Still, you bring your hand to your hip in anticipation, unwilling to back down.

“I order you to stop!”

You glance towards the source of the voice. Jungkook is standing behind you with his rapier raised, his stance indicating years of training in fencing. With two calculated blows he could puncture the stomachs of both poachers. The two men blanche.

Nonetheless, the shorter of the two poachers blusters on, “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m Jeon Jungkook, son of the duke of Braewyth. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you two gentlemen that pegasus are considered an endangered species, and it’s a criminal offence to poach them, punishable by a good flogging in Sientha square.”

The shorter poacher swallows, his hand wavering.

The taller of the two is only all the more incited. “I don’t give a fuck. You’re not a king. Not even a prince. Just some lesser noble with a silver spoon shoved up your arse. What are you going to do, report me? We’re out in the middle of fuck-knows where, and you’re outnumbered, two to one.” He raises his sword.

“Actually, it’s two against two,” you correct him, unsheathing your dagger.

“Well that seems fair then, doesn’t it,” Jungkook purrs, “Fine, I suppose I’ll just have to punish you myself, seeing as we’re in the middle of “fuck-knows where”, as you so eloquently put it.”

The shorter of the two gulps audibly, and then turns tail and begins running in the opposite direction, slipping over the mossy rocks by the Waye’s bank.

A wiser man would have retreated, but it appears that the taller poacher is somewhat lacking in cognitive ability. With a roar, he lunges at Jungkook, who easily pirouettes out of reach, leaving the lanky man to swipe at thin air. Growling, the man rights himself, and launches at Jungkook, but the duke’s son easily parries the blow with his blade, a metallic clang echoing in the valley. The poacher stumbles back, grimacing. Seeing that he has underestimated the “lesser noble”, the poacher makes a grab for you instead.

You attempt to duck out of the way, but slip on the wet rocks, and feel a clammy hand grab around your wrist, pulling you into the hard body of the poacher. Up close, he smells of onions and beer. You struggle against him, but upon feeling cold steel at your throat, you freeze.

“Not another move,” the poacher growls, “Or this wench gets it.”

You glance at Jungkook, who stands poised, with rapier raised. An expression of fear flashes across his face, like a fleeting cloud on a sunny day, passing so fast, you could convince yourself you imagined it.

The poacher’s plot could have worked out for him, had he not underestimated your strength.

As he leers at Jungkook, you grasp at the advantage of surprise. With a sudden twist, like a striking viper, your hand – still holding the dagger - snaps up, and strikes the man on the side of the head with the hard wooden hilt. The man crumples with a screech.

You leap away. At the exact same instant, Jungkook jumps forward. You turn to see the son of the duke standing over the poacher, his rapier raised to the tall man’s stubbly throat. The poacher whimpers, with one hand clutching his face where you struck him. A trickle of blood trails down the wrinkles of his face.

“Now listen carefully,” Jungkook says, his voice low and dangerous, “I could kill you right here. But I’m choosing to spare you. I would suggest you get off your sorry arse, get up, and run away. Take your possessions, your wife and children – if you have any – and flee this duchy. Because know that you are a wanted man while you remain in the borders of Braewyth. I know your face, and soon ever guard in our troops will know it too. The punishment for poaching endangered creatures is flogging. The punishment for an attempt on the heir of the duchy’s life is the gallows. There will not be mercy the second time. Do I make myself clear?”

The man nods, slowly and carefully, his throat strained below the point of Jungkook’s rapier.

Jungkook lifts the blade. “Go.”

The poacher does not need any more prodding. Scrambling to his feet, he flees, glancing behind him every so often, as if he is scared that Jungkook will change his mind and follow after him.

Jungkook breathes a sigh, sheathing his rapier. The sweat on his neck is the only indication that he was at all shaken by the encounter. Your return your dagger to the holster on your hip, and turn your attention to the pegasus which still lies in the shallow portion of the river, breathing heavily. You carefully walk over, and inspect the damage.

There’s one arrow lodged in its side, but from the other gashes on its white coat, it appears that several other arrows hit, but subsequently fell out, leaving the creature to bleed from multiple open wounds. The pegasus lets out a distressed whinny as you approach, and makes an attempt to get up. Its legs shake, and it collapses back with a splash, too weak to run away. It has already lost a lot of blood.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you murmur, “I’m not going to hurt you.” You know the creature can’t understand you, but you hope your tone is at least soothing. The pegasus thrashes in the shallow water, but realising it is too weak to move, it resolves itself to its fate, and lays its head down.

You crouch next to it, ignoring the cold water that soaks into your boots and riding trousers. Carefully, you pull a bottle from your satchel, and uncork it. You are thankful that you often carry first aid potions around. Wafting the bottle under the pegasus’ nose, you watch as it inhales the scent of your soothing potion and relaxes. With the creature sedated, you pull the arrow from the skin, and apply pressure to staunch the flow of blood that follows. Hunting in your satchel, you pull out a second potion, filled with healing balm. Pouring the thick green liquid onto your palms, you begin massaging it onto the pegasus’ open wounds. The smell of lavender and sage emanates from the balm, covering up the bitter metallic smell of blood.

Straightening up, you back away from the pegasus. The creature tentatively stands up, taking a few hesitant steps forward. Strengthened and emboldened, the pegasus canters forward with a whicker, its large wings ruffling as it takes flight.

“What did you give it?” Jungkook asks, watching the pegasus soar towards its nest.

“A simple Salutare Decoction,” you tell him, “Made to soothe and heal wounds, and-”

“And restore vitality. Yes, I know the one,” Jungkook interrupts, “I’ve never seen it used in practice.”

You flash him a cocky smile. “There’s no shame in admitting you’re impressed by my talents, Mr. Jeon.”

The heir of the duchy grimaces, “I’ll be impressed if you can actually make the Impetus Amor.”

“Oh, you of little faith. Are you allergic to admiring anyone who isn’t yourself?”

“Don’t get too arrogant, little alchemist.” Jungkook tramps back to his horse, his back a silhouette of irritation with shoulders hunched and head lowered. “Don’t forget who saved you from those poachers, you ungrateful wench.”

You snort, walking back to your mare, “Some help you were when I had a blade held to my throat...”

“If you had been alone, you would have been slashed to ribbons,” Jungkook parries, hoisting himself into his saddle. With a dig of his heels, his stallion canters forward before you can get another word in.

By the time you’ve swung yourself into your saddle, Jungkook is far ahead, and you know there’s no way your mare can catch up with Jungkook’s brawny stallion.

Clucking at your ebony horse, you encourage her into a trot, muttering insults that Jungkook will never hear while you weave down the path back to Sientha.

✽ ✽ ✽

With the necessary ingredients, you’re finally able to start work on the Impetus Amor once you return to your shop. There’s no sign of Jungkook as you work throughout the rest of the day, and of that you are glad.

If you never see his cocky face again, it’ll be too soon for you. Yet, as you crush down thin sheets of gold into fine dust, his visage clouds your vision. Even as you watch the pegasus feathers steep in rose water, the shimmering sheen slowing leeching from the feather into the liquid, you cannot shake his sure smile and steadfast gaze from your clouded thoughts.

Dazed, you extract the feather from the liquid, leaving behind the opalescent rose water. The ingredients are ready. You simply have to wait. The next blue moon will be soon – a lucky coincidence.

Your luck is sure to run out eventually.

✽ ✽ ✽

On the night of the blue moon, once your shop is closed for the evening, you begin to prepare for the brewing of the potion. You start by getting your ingredients together, setting them up in a semicircle around your caldron. While you may have no control over your own life, you can easily command ingredients to do your bidding, controlling the brewing process and modifying as you go. The whole process is a soothing ritual for you.

At least it would be, if it weren’t for an irksome knocking coming from your door.

Sighing, you leave your ingredients by the caldron, and go to the door. You slide back the wooden latch, and outside you see -

“Jungkook?”

He stands, illuminated in a halo from the lanterns outside.

You wrinkle your nose. “What do you want?”

“Is that any way to greet the heir of the duchy?”

Rolling your eyes, you open the door to him, “Mr. Jeon, what an honour to see you at the threshold of my humble shop. Please make yourself at home. Is that any better?”

“A little,” Jungkook steps inside your shop.

You’re already seething, and he hasn’t even been in your presence for more than a minute. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“I needed your expertise on something,” Jungkook says, sauntering over to your counter, and leaning against it.

You snort. “I find it hard to believe you think anyone besides yourself has any expertise.”

“Your words sting, little alchemist,” his eyes drag across the supplies lined on the shelves of your shop, before finally coming to rest on you. “I came here for some advice. Yes, yes, take time to gloat if it makes you feel better.” He waves a dismissive hand.

The gloating wouldn’t feel so good with his dark eyes piercing yours. You swallow, and stay silent.

“I need a potion to help me stay awake,” Jungkook admits.

You raise your brows. “It’s not healthy to stay awake for long periods of time, Mr. Jeon.”

“Well of course. It’s a one-off, naturally,” he shrugs at your concerns, “I’m just a little tied up you see. I promised a lovely lady that I’d take her dancing this evening, but I also have a commitment to the duchy, and that means being in attendance at an early morning meeting tomorrow. I was quite hoping to spend some quality time with the lady tonight, if you understand my meaning.”

“Are you sure it’s not an aphrodisiac you’re after instead?” you quip.

Jungkook raises his brows in feigned surprise. “What do you take me for? Some kind of cad?”

“Are you not a cad?” You examine him skeptically, “I see you around town with a different lady each day. What conclusions am I supposed to draw?”

“Well, perhaps you’re not so wrong,” Jungkook grins, “Just don’t tell the ladies that.”

“Don’t worry. They’re all too posh to speak to me, let alone believe my accusations that Jeon Jungkook is a good for nothing bounder who only cares about the delicacies that hide beneath their petticoats and pantaloons.”

“Can you help with the potion or not?” Jungkook has grown bored of your jokes.

Stepping behind your counter, you begin to rummage around the shelves. “Luckily for you, Vigil Concoction only takes a few minutes to brew.” You grab a jar of rhodiola rosea, along with a fine iron powder, and the scales of a mermaid. Crushing the aquamarine scales to a fine dust, you mix the ingredients together with a drop of lime juice. Jungkook watches, fascinated, as you pour the ingredients into a clean caldron, and bring the concoction to a boil. The smell of brine mixed with lime cuts through the air.

Jungkook's eyes wander over to the ingredients set aside for the Impetus Amor. “I see you’re finally going to be brewing it tonight,” he nods at the ingredients.

“Yes, I was about to before you interrupted,” you say, stirring the Vigil Concoction.

“So if it’s brewed tonight, it should be ready in a few days, correct?”

You sigh, and affirm, “Correct.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll just have to wait until then to see if you were actually successful.”

You wince. You had been hoping that Jungkook would forget your wager. Instead of continuing that train of thought, you change the subject. “If you don’t mind me asking, why not cancel your plans with this maiden, and attend the meeting. Any lady would be more than willing to change her plans for you.”

Jungkook sighs, “Actually, meeting with her was my father’s idea.”

You pause stirring the concoction to eye Jungkook with curiosity. “I didn’t take the duke to be the type to encourage copulation with fair damsels.”

“Wether I have sexual relations with the women does not matter,” Jungkook blushes, “My father is insistent that I find a wife.”

You splutter, and his dark eyes flash.

“Did I say something that amused you?”

“No, sorry,” you focus your attention on the potion, “It’s simply difficult to imagine you settling down with a woman.”

“What can I say. Most of the women I meet are a bore. Perfectly satisfactory in the bedroom, but useless outside of it. I struggle to hold a conversation with any of them. I need a lady with more substance if I am to wed her, not just bed her.”

“It must be such a chore being forced to spend time with all those beautiful women,” you tease, decanting the potion into a vial and corking it. Handing it across the counter to Jungkook, you warn, “Wait until it cools down before you consume it.” Your hand brushes against his as he takes the vial.

“Listen,” his voice is quieter, and despite yourself, you find you are trapped in his gaze, “I do not want you to think less of me for this conversation. When I find the right lady, I’ll settle down. I won’t be a cad. I..” he trails off, pocketing the vial. “I… well. Thank you for your help.”

You nod, unsure how to interpret his words. Taking on a professional tone, you say, “The concoction will work for about twelve hours, and will keep you alert and sleepless in that time. Once the twelve hours are up, you may find yourself dozing off quickly, so do be mindful of that.”

“Thank you.” With that, Jungkook leaves your shop. You stand in your empty store, thrown off by the unexpected distraction he caused.

Shaking your head from your hazy thoughts, you get back to the business of brewing Impetus Amor. You sit down in front of the cauldron, with enough ingredients to make several batches. You carefully measure each ingredient out, pouring them into the caldron’s black maw, while the light from the blue moon shines in through the shop window. You murmur a few words as smoke begins to rise from the caldron. The words come from an ancient civilisation, now long dead. The accent is strange and heavy on your tongue. It is the words that are the most demanding part. One wrong inflection, one stutter, and the potion’s strength will wane, or even fade completely. You’ve practiced each phrase thoroughly, just to be safe. As you stir, the liquid in the potion changes from pale translucent to an opaque pearlescent pink. A success. Working quickly, you pour the mixture into an alembic to distill.

Now all that’s left to do is wait.

✽ ✽ ✽

The days pass quicker than you expect, with nothing much to note, apart from the weekend, when a young lady wanders into your shop with a tear stained face, asking for a potion to mend a broken heart. You could have sworn you had seen the lady with her arm strung through Jungkook’s the previous day. You do not comment as you hand her a bottle of Cor Integro.

At last, the Impetus Amor is ready, and right on cue, so is Jungkook. He walks into the shop as you are bottling the love potion.

“Is that it?” His eyes flash over the contents of the glass bottle.

You nod.

“May I?” He holds out a hand, and you hesitate, before relinquishing the bottle to him.

And so concludes the list of bad decisions you made concerning Impetus Amor.

He holds it up to the light, inspecting intently. “Well, it certainly looks convincing. But I suppose we won’t actually know if it works unless we test it.”

The bad feeling forming in your stomach has arrived too late to warn you. Jungkook is already pulling out the cork, and downing the contents of the bottle.

This is how you end up with Jungkook, the one man you cannot stand, drinking your love potion. The first person he looks at will be the one he falls for. He’s looking at you.

Oh goddess above, please not this. Anything but this.

“Mighty gods above, what is wrong with you? You know very well how long that took to brew!” Your attempt to restrain your tone is unsuccessful. Anger pours freely from your words.

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, “Tough. Looks like the potion doesn’t even work anyway. And on top of that, it tasted bad. Like dried roses and soap.”

“It wasn’t intended for you,” you remind him. “In one hour, it will begin to take effect, and you will be reduced to a fawning dolt, drooling over my every move.”

“That will only happen if the potion actually works. Which it may not.” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow at you, so sure of himself it makes you want to scream. “I cannot have you selling snake oil to the people of Braewyth.”

You are physically trembling with anger. “That potion is incredibly expensive. You’ll have to pay for it.”

“Fret not, you’ll get your money… if it works.” He swivels around, and is about to make for the door, but you dash in from of him, blocking off his means of escape. “I won’t allow you to leave,” you say, “You’ll make a complete fool of yourself if you’re free to roam the streets under the influence of a love potion.”

Jungkook blinks – innocent – and then laughs, “Come now. It won’t be that bad.”

“Yes. Yes, it will be that bad,” you insist, “I’m keeping you here until I can cure you. The last thing we want is for you to cause a scandal.”

Jungkook’s Adam’s apple bobs, finally realising that you’re being serious. “What will the potion do to me?”

“You should have asked before you drank the potion.”

“Perhaps,” he concedes, “It might not work. We still don’t know.” His eyes are wide, like a deer that’s spotted a hunter with an arrow aimed at its heart. “What will it do?”

“It will make you fall in love with me,” you say, “Of course. On top of that, it will cause you great physical pain any time you are not close to me. It will make you desperate for physical contact.”

Jungkook swallows thickly. “Well… let’s… uh… hope you got it wrong then, hmm?”

You frown. “I’ve half a mind to throw you out into the street to make a complete fool of yourself, screaming your love for all bystanders to hear.”

“Surely you’ve got a cure,” Jungkook pleads.

You grit your teeth. “You can’t expect me to simply fix every problem with a magical potion, Mr. Jeon. Alchemy doesn’t always work like that.”

“I’m sorry!” Jungkook blurts, “There, I said it. I’m sorry! I know I’ve cocked up. And I know I take your abilities for granted. I underestimate you all the time. I’m sorry, alright? But you have had it out for me from the moment you met me. You hated me before you even knew me. I don’t know why, but I’m sorry for that too. Now can you please stop piling on the blame and help me?” He holds up his hands, plaintive, “Please. I can’t do this by myself.”

Your shoulders slump. You want to be angry. All you feel is pity.

“Aright, Jungkook,” you concede, “I’ll help you.”

“Thank you,” his voice is soft.

You set the sign on your shop door to ‘Closed’, and bolt it. Then, you move across to your shelf of books. You know that one of these tomes must contain an antidote for a love potion. It’s not something you’ve made before, and you cannot remember which volume it is in, but you know it must be there. You scan the indexes, the pile of rejected tomes towering taller as you search through each book for any help it may provide.

Meanwhile, Jungkook sits on a stool by the counter, fidgeting awkwardly.

At last, in your copy of Payne and Nash’s Antidotes for Advanced Alchemy, you find a potion called Aphrodite’s Cure – an antidote for love potions and aphrodisiacs.

Your finger mechanically runs down the list, checking off each one.

Extract from a siren’s tongue

Sap from a cherry tree

Crushed topaz

You have all those items in your shop. If you believed in the goddess, you would be praising her now. Your finger stops, hovering over the brewing time, spelled out in black ink. Two hours.

“Well, Jungkook...” The duke’s son looks up at the sound of your voice. “I’ve found a cure I can brew, but it will take two hours.”

Jungkook’s hopeful expression falls. “Well, I suppose I can bear being in love with a pain in the arse like you for two hours. Even if you are… the most… the most... beautiful maiden I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He leaps up from his stool.

Your heart pounds, animalistic instincts telling you to run far away.

Still you remain frozen to the spot, while Jungkook makes his way around the counter to grab at you, pulling you close. Your chest presses against his, while his hands grip your waist.

“You’re gorgeous,” Jungkook murmurs, “Forgive me for not telling you earlier.”

Your curse silently, caught in Jungkook’s ardent gaze. Your potion had worked wonders... unfortunately. “Does this drivel normally work on the maidens you woo?” you ask, pushing him away.

He winces as you part. “Please, my dear, it hurts when you force us apart.”

You remember the side effect of Impetus Amor embodies itself as physical pain when a couple is not close to one another. Despite your disdain for Jungkook, you feel a pang of pity for him. “Okay,’ you say, “You may stay near my side. But you can’t get in my way while I work on an antidote for you.”

“But I don’t want to be cured,” Jungkook retorts, “I’m in love with you, and it feels wonderful. I never realised how good it would feel to experience true love. You truly wish to part me from this happiness?”

“Yes. You asked for this. Remember that.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “My past self did not know what he was talking about. I wish to stay by your side, forever..”

“No matter what I do,” you say, “The effects will wear off in a week. I’m merely expediting the process to save you the embarrassment that will follow.”

Firmly, you move away from Jungkook, fetching a bottle of siren’s tongue extract from the top shelf behind your counter, before you dig out your crushed topaz and cherry tree sap from a cupboard. You sit down in front of your caldron and let Jungkook take a seat beside you. His hand comes to rest on your knee. You startle at his touch.

“You said I could stay close to you,” he says, “Sorry, is this too much?”

You shrug. “Do what you need to. Just don’t get in my way.” As you pour the potions into the caldron and begin stirring over a low flame, you try to ignore the heat in your body, shooting up from the spot on your leg where Jungkook’s palm rests. The ingredients begin to bubble in the caldron. You watch carefully, smelling the steam that rises, hoping to discern clues on the quality of the brew. When the scent of caramel begins to waft from the caldron, you remove it from the heat, and allow it to sit for a few minutes before you transfer it to a flask where if will sit for two hours, allowing the ingredients to cool and fully incorporate into Aphrodite’s Cure.

“Well, Jungkook, now we wait.”

He huffs, “I already told you, I don’t want to be cured.”

“Tough,” you tell him. “Eventually you will be, whether you like it or not. Then you’ll be on your own to deal with the shame that follows. I’m not helping you with that.”

He bristles. “I don’t find being in love with you shameful. Not at all. After all, you’re strong-willed, and intelligent, not to mention beautiful! You have more wit and personality than most other women I have wooed. If I were to be embarrassed at the idea of loving you, I ought to cringe at the idea of having bedded the other women.”

“Well, you shan’t be ‘bedding’ me,” you say, “You can’t get between my legs just by flashing me a favourable look.”

Jungkook’s face falls, “You wound me, my dear. You truly believe I only have carnal pleasures on my mind. Do not worry. I know you need respect and commitment before you would allow a man to crawl between the sheets with you.”

You feel your cheeks burning with a blush. “Let me guess – you wish to be the man who will show me that respect and commitment, and will crawl between the sheets with me?”

“Listen,” Jungkook diverges from your pointed question, “I know I need time to prove myself to you. I haven’t shown you my best side while I’ve been around you. I can only ask that you forgive me, and let me show you how much better I can be.”

“I’m used to the way you treat me.” You move away from Jungkook, but he grabs onto you, hands desperate.

“Please don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving. I just need to get on with work. You may have forced me to close my shop, but that doesn’t mean I can sit and twiddle my thumbs for two hours until you’re cured.”

“But I want to sit here with you,” Jungkook whines. The potion doesn’t seem to have just struck him down with love, but also to have turned him into a pouty brat with the attitude of a spoiled toddler.

Give me strength. “Let me guess,” you say, “You want to hold me, and kiss me? Am I right?”

Jungkook’s face turns red. “You shame me my dear, for it seems you have been reading my thoughts. Forgive me, but how can I help but dream of such things, when you are so comely.”

You try not to roll your eyes. Men under the influence of Impetus Amor are intolerable.

You catch a hold of his hand, which is grabbing your right wrist, and wrench him off you. “Jungkook, I am refusing you for your own good.”

“I do not believe that to be true,” Jungkook says as you pry yourself from him, and begin to scour your shelves for any bottles that appear to be running low. The duke’s son follows you around like a lovesick puppy while you pull out a piece of parchment and begin walking along the shelves taking note of vials and containers that are running empty, so you can get fresh ingredients at the next opportunity. Your hands need to be busy. You feel hapless otherwise.

“I truly believe,” Jungkook pipes up behind you, “That even when this potion wears off, I will still be in love with you. I believe that I have been in love with you for a while.”

You snort a laugh, “You truly do amuse me, Jungkook.”

“Is it so hard to believe I could fall for you?”

You spin around to face Jungkook. He is much closer than you anticipated. A gasp breaks your lips.

“Listen, little alchemist,” his eyes bore into yours, as you step back, your spine pressing against the shelf behind you, “I’ve been trying to fight these feelings, for I know my father would not approve of a woman who is not noble-born, yet I still find myself drawn to you. I wander aimlessly to your shop, just to catch a glimpse of you, just to feel the warmth of your company. And you would scoff at this?”

Your mouth goes dry, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. The words are difficult to get past your teeth. “You’re lying. It’s just the potion talking.”

“Why would I lie?” Jungkook’s eyes are troubled, “I’ve been falling slowly, ever since I met you. I tried to push off the feelings by treating you harshly. I tried to forget them in the arms of another lover. But still… I always find myself coming back to you.” He lifts a hand, fingers gentle against your cheek. You shiver at his touch. “It’s always you, little alchemist.”

Your lips curl in amusement. “You almost convinced me Jungkook. You speak so earnestly…” You take his hand in your own, pull it away from your face, and let it drop to his side.

His eyes cloud over. “Being unable to touch you, it hurts me physically, you know.”

“I know.” A shard of sympathy embeds in your chest. “It won’t last long though, I promise. I’ll cure you soon.”

“While we wait,” Jungkook’s eyes are dark, “Could you spare me one kiss? Just to ease the pain?”

“Jungkook,” your hand goes to his chest, rising up to rest on his shoulder, “The potion worked. You lost the wager. You were only to get a kiss if you won.”

“Please,” the word falls soft from his mouth.

You stand transfixed, stuck between your shelf of potions, and Jungkook’s body. His face is mere inches from your own. A dreadful curiosity sweeps over you, one that you know you should ignore. Yet, Jungkook is here before you, eyes urgent, and you are tired of fighting him.

“One kiss,” you murmur, “That’s all I’ll allow.”

His hands find purchase on your waist as he moves closer. Your eyelids flutter shut as his breath fans your cheeks, smelling of rose and gold dust. His lips are warm as they settle on your own, mapping out your mouth. You fall captive to the sensation, and suddenly, you understand the appeal that draws countless women to Jungkook’s side. He may be a pain in the arse, but he is wonderfully skilled when it comes to kissing.

Pressed against the shelf, you give in to the affections from a man you were sure you hated. You promise yourself, as his lips part from yours, that you will wipe this feeling from your memory. Yet, even as Jungkook draws back, the ghost of his warmth haunts you.

Lost for words, you blink in the dim light of your shop, suddenly too bright after the dark of closed eyelids. Jungkook leans back against the counter, eyes fixed on you. You struggle, unsure what to say. Instead of saying anything, you simply return to the chores you had assigned yourself, mechanically checking off ingredients on your piece of parchment.

At the counter, Jungkook is suspiciously silent. After a long pause, he finally asks, “What will happen to me when the effects of the potion are cured?”

You turn back to him. “You will forget most of this. It will all feel hazy, like a dream. And you’ll feel a little unwell. Headaches are normal after such strong potions take effect. Some people also suffer nausea, but that depends on one’s constitution. You’ll only suffer for an hour or so, then it should wear off.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Jungkook says gently.

You swallow, understanding, “Your feelings will depart. Whatever you are feeling for me now will be replaced with your genuine feelings, so you’ll go back to hating me I suspect.”

Jungkook’s face falls, “I don’t hate you.”

“Well then you’ll go back to mild indifference,” you say, turning back to your shelf to continue working, while Jungkook sits down at the counter, silent.

The hours drag on, with Jungkook’s eyes following your every move. Occasionally, he expresses a desire for physical contact to stop the pain. When he does so, you return to his side, and gently press your palm to his. The action seems to be enough for him.

At last, the hour glass has run through twice, and the potion is ready. You carefully decant it into a vial, and set it in front of Jungkook.

He catches your gaze, “I… I don’t want this.”

“Jungkook, please,” you press your hand to his one last time, “You need to. No matter what, the Impetus Amor will wear off. I’ll still be here when you’re cured.”

His face firms into an expression your don’t recognise, and with a resolute, swift motion, he tips the contents of the vial into his mouth in one go, swallowing with a groan. “You did not warn me that it would taste repulsive.”

“You were already reluctant to take it.”

Jungkook groans again, lowering his head so that his forehead rests on the wooden counter top, “By the goddess, I feel like death. Do you have a potion for a headache?”

“Not one caused by the after effects of Impetus Amor,” you say, “But I do have herbal tea.”

“Yes please.”

Glad to have a task to distract you, you busy yourself with boiling the water and fetching tea leaves.

From his spot at the counter, Jungkook moans, “I embarrassed myself greatly, didn’t I?”

Watching a pleasing golden red spread out from the tea leaves into the boiled water, you reply, “That depends on what you deem to be embarrassing.”

Jungkook grimaces as he lifts his head slightly, then, upon reconsideration, lowers his head again. The colour has drained from his face.

“I imagine you were acting the way you normally would around any fair lady you intended to woo. You were fine. Quite respectful, actually.”

“Please, I don’t wish to remember,” Jungkook moves his head so that his cheek now rests on the counter.

You pass a cup of fresh tea across to him, ‘That should make you feel a little better,” you say.

“I owe you a ‘thank you’,” Jungkook raises his head to blow on the steam rising from the tea cup, “And an apology as well, I fancy.”

You pause, not expecting to hear those words from him.

“I’ve been an arse,” Jungkook says.

“It’s not often you and I agree on something, Jungkook.”

He laughs wryly. “Well, I can’t deny it, can I? I wasted your time and energy today, and for that, I am sorry. From, Jeon Jungkook, son of the duke of Braewyth, to you, master alchemist and potions-brewer extraordinaire, as my equal, please accept my sincere apologies, and my humble gratitude.” He bows his head.

You are unsure how to react, throat tight. All you can muster is an insincere chuckle, and a feeble “No need to be so formal... If you really want to apologise you can give me the gold you promised since it would appear I won this wager.”

“Oh, right!” Jungkook digs in his pockets.

Suddenly, strangely, you feel unsure of yourself. “Listen, I was just joking. I don’t need the money. Really...”

“Nonsense,” Jungkook dumps a sack of coin on the table. “It’s yours, fair and square.” He grins at you and takes a sip of his tea. “This brew really seems to be helping.” As he downs the rest f the cup, you busy your hands with the bottles on your shelf, straightening them so they stand in a tidy row. Jungkook glances through the window of your shop, where the sky above the roofs of the town is turning gold with the setting of the sun. “I’d better head off,” he says, “My father arranged a ball for the eligible women of Braewyth to attend, and he’s hoping I’ll meet someone there. And by someone, I mean specifically Lady Antille from the province of Armestice.” He grimaces. “I’ve heard she’s a dreadful bore. Not to mention there’ll be lots of business men at the dance, hoping to make a good impression, and get funding from my father’s treasury. So overall, I have a very pleasant evening ahead of me.”

“Do you think you’ll ever find a woman you’re happy with?” you ask.

Jungkook wavers on the question, “I’m… not sure. I think I’m cursed by the fact that most noble women are not at all appealing to me.”

You shrug, “It’s all just a pantomime isn’t it? Performing the proper etiquette. Perhaps once the women have a chance to drop the pretence of politeness, you’ll get to know them for who they truly are, and you’ll realise they aren’t as bad as you think.”

“Perhaps,” he looks unconvinced, “But I doubt I’ll have the time for that. My father is hoping I’ll drop down to one knee and propose as soon as I lock eyes with the right woman.”

“Maybe Lady Antille will be the lucky one,” you say.

“The longer this goes on, the more I worry my father will simply pick a lady for me, and force me to marry.”

“I hope not.”

He nods, “Yes. So do I.” He turns for the door.

“Enjoy your evening, Jungkook.”

He pauses at the door, and turns back to look at you, with a gentle smile. “You’ve started calling me Jungkook instead of Mr. Jeon,” he notes.

“Oh, sorry,” your hand springs to your mouth, “Is it improper?”

“A little bit improper,” He smiles, “I like it.”

“Goodbye, Jungkook.”

“Goodbye...” He looks into your eyes, sunshine bathing him from the windows, and your name is soft on his lips. Not ‘little alchemist’. Not ‘wench’. Not ‘my dear’. Just your name. A warmth spreads from your stomach through the rest of your body.

You smile as he closes the door behind him, leaving you alone with the smell of herbal tea filling the shop.

✽ ✽ ✽

As darkness descends on your shop, the sun sinking lower, a lady enters. You recognise the red hood, lowered over her eyes and nose.

“Good evening,” you welcome her as you would all other customers.

Rather than greeting you, she simply asks, “Is the Impetus Amor ready?” Her tone is hushed, despite being the sole customer in your store.

Thankful that you had the foresight to create more than one batch of the potion, you fetch it from your cupboard and place the vial on the counter top in front of her. The potion shines, pearlescent in the fading sunshine.

The lady pushes back a blonde lock from her face, and her shapely lips smile below her hood. “Wonderful. Thank you.” She tales the vial, and places it into her purse. You notice her splendid gown beneath the folds of her red cloak. Only a rich lady could afford such a potion. And such expensive silk. You sigh, despite yourself.

The lady tosses another pouch of gold onto the counter top. “I trust that you will not tell anyone of this exchange.”

You pause, wondering what she means. “All my customer’s orders are confidential,” you assure her.

She nods, satisfied, and swivels on her heel, exiting the shop. As she leaves, she bumps into an older lady who is making her way into your shop. You recognise the older lady, Myrrh, who is one of your regulars. The younger lady’s red hood slips down as she passes Myrrh, revealing a head of golden curls.

“Oh, sorry dear,” Myrrh says.

The golden haired lady bows her head, quickly pulling up her hood again. “Think nothing of it.” With that, she slips into the darkening evening.

Myrrh approaches your counter, while you retrieve her order from the shelf behind you – Fons Iuventae, for aches and pains afflicting old joints. “Well, I never realised you got such fancy clientele in your store, dear,” Myrrh observes, as she counts out her silver coins for you.

You smile, “Her appearance here surprised me as much as it did you, Myrrh.”

The older lady chuckles, ‘Imagine! Lady Antille, in this shop! The store will be the talk of the town soon, I’m sure.”

“Lady Antille?”

Myrrh gives you a strange look as she hands her coins across to you. “You didn’t recognise the Lady of Armestice?”

You shake your head.

“Ah, well now you know,” Myrrh says, “Imagine, me bumping into her like that.” She takes her bottle of Fons Iuventae and heads for the door. You follow behind her, and flip over your store sign to ‘Closed’ once she leaves. The last dregs of sunlight seep through the window. With the shop shut for the night, you go and sit behind the counter, thoughts running at a thousand miles a minute. You know that you should not concern yourself with your customer’s potion usage. After all, you simply provide. You are not responsible for the actions that follow. Yet, you cannot help but have your suspicions.

Before you realise what you are doing, you pick up a vial of Aphrodite’s Cure from yoru counter. Your body leads you to the door, grabbing your satchel, and your cloak, pulling it around you before you step out onto the cobbled street. Your feet lead you to the stable, where you quickly saddle up your mare, and spur her into the dark of night.

The road that leads out of Sientha winds down towards the large mansion where the duke of Braewyth resides. Everyone in Braewyth is familiar with the sugar white house that stands tall, behind a maze of rose bushes. As you ride towards the mansion, rain begins to pelt down, stinging at your cheeks. You continue regardless, pressing your heels into your mare’s side, encouraging her on. You push her harder than you’ve pushed her before, hurtling down the road at a frantic gallop. The mare’s breathing is hard, foam flies from her mouth. Dirt flies from her hooves, kicking up the mud washed onto the road.

Ahead of you, past the sheets of rain, you spot the lights of the Braewyth mansion. Reigning in your mare, you stop her a few paces before the gate, and tie her by one of the trees. She’s breathing heavily, and you give her a reassuring pat before you make for the gates.

A guard, who was leaning lazily against the gate, stands to attention when you approach, raising his spear. “Halt.”

“Please,” you hold up your hands to him, showing that you are unarmed, “I wish to speak with Jeon Jungkook.”

The guard squints at you through the rain. “And who might you be?”

You hesitate. “I’m his alchemy tutor.” Technically not a lie.

“I wasn’t told you would be arriving,” the guard says, “Do you have an invitation to the ball that you can show me?” He sweeps a skeptical gaze over your trousers, flecked with mud, and your fur hood, soaked with rain.

“Please, it’s urgent,” you say.

In the gloom, you see the guard raise his eyebrows.

You wrack your brain, “I have a potion for Jeon Jungkook. He asked me to deliver it to him personally before the ball began.”

“He never told me of this plan.”

Just then, by the mercy of the universe – or perhaps the goddess – Jungkook appears at the other side of the gate.

“Ah, Mr. Jeon,” the guard smiles at you gleefully, hoping to have caught you in a lie, “Have you met this wench before?”

Jungkook walks up to the gate, “Of course. Let her in at once.”

The guard’s mouth hangs open for a slit second, before he quickly corrects his expression, and bows to the heir of Braewyth. “Yes. Right away!” He opens the gate, and scurries to get out of your way.

You hurry over the threshold, and begin walking with Jungkook towards the Braewyth mansion.

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook asks, once you are out of earshot of the guard.

“What about you?” you say, “Do you make it a habit to walk around the garden while it’s tipping it down with rain?”

“I needed some fresh air, and I heard a commotion from the gate,” Jungkook explains, “But I really think you’re the one who ought to be explaining yourself.”

“I...” you’re unsure where to begin, “Has Lady Antille arrived yet?”

“Not yet,” Jungkook says, “Now, will you please stop answering my question with more questions.”

“Sorry,” you swallow, suddenly realising how silly your reasoning will sound.

Jungkook waits, while you remain silent, walking down the path through the rose bushes.

You take a deep breath, “This may sound mad, but I have reason to believe that Lady Antille plans to use Impetus Amor on your tonight.”

Jungkook’s expression turns frosty. “You’re not jesting?”

You nod. “I could be wrong. But the lady who purchased Impetus Amor was Antille. I did not recognise her at first. I suppose it could merely be coincidence, and she is using it for someone else, but I wanted to warn you, just in case.”

Jungkook is grave. “I suppose it would make sense. After all, a marriage into the Braewyth duchy would be beneficial for the province of Armestice. The province is too small to defend itself, so would be willing to seek the protection of a more powerful duchy.” He turns his eyes to you. “Will you be able to stay here with me tonight? I must be in attendance at the ball, and avoiding Lady Antille there is out of the question. If she does try anything, will you be ready to help me?”

You nod, “I have the cure in my satchel, just in case.”

Jungkook nods, taking your hand, and leading you up the marble steps to the mansion door. “Alright, if you’re staying, then you need to get changed.”

“Excuse me?”

“I do not mean to offend, but your trousers won’t be acceptable attire for the ball.”

You swallow as you step into the house. The hallways are greater – both wider and taller - than you had anticipated, with lush white carpets that your feet sink into. You wince at the mud trailed in by your boots.

“Whyn!” Jungkook calls, and a flushed looking maid appears on cue, bowing before him.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”

“Can you help my lady friend? She needs to be cleaned up, and needs more appropriate attire for the ball.”

“Of course, Mr. Jeon.”

Before you can even get a word in, you are being herded down the corridor by Whyn, who appears overly eager to do Jungkook’s bidding. You’re pushed into the bathroom, and the last you see of Jungkook is his smile as Whyn closes the door on him.

The bathroom is lavish, tiled with white marble. Ornate sculptures depicting gryphons stand at each corner of the room. Steps lead down to a pool of warm water, from which steam rises, smelling of lavendar. A statue of a stag stands proudly at the centre of the water, with a beautiful woman depicted standing beside him, naked. She holds an urn above the pool, and water pours from the urn into the large bath.

Without any warning, or any chance to protest, Whyn strips you down, and pushes you to the water’s edge. “Quickly, m’am,” she urges, “The ball will be starting soon.”

Grumbling, you step down into the water. However, it’s impossible to continue complaining as the warmth envelops you, easing all the aches in your body. You sink down with a sigh, dipping your head under, and letting your hair become fully soaked.

However relaxing the bathing experience is, you know you need to get back to Jungkook quickly, so after a quick once over with soap, you reluctantly leave the embrace of the sweet smelling water.

Whyn is ready and waiting with a warm towel. She starts drying you off, and you complain that you can dry yourself, but she shushes you stubbornly. “Please, ma’m, let me do my job!”

Once your hair and body are towelled dry, Whyn helps you into the ornate dress she has picked for you. You’ve never worn a dress this fancy before, and until this point, you never understood why ladies needed maids to help them get dressed. Now, as Whyn scurries around you, lacing up your corset, and adjusting your petticoat, you understand. The dress has so many buttons, clasps, and ribbons, that it would take an eternity to dress yourself.

The maid finally helps you pull back your hair, pinning it off your face, so it curls elegantly to frame your cheeks. She steps back to admire her handiwork, allowing you to take in your full reflection in the mirror beside the bath. It’s surprising what a maid’s touch can do. You barely recognise yourself. A regal lady stares back at you from the mirror in a shimmering sapphire-coloured dress, with golden stitching around the bodice, detailing embroidered roses.

“Is it alright, m’am?” Whyn asks, “If you don’t like it, I can find another dress.”

“No, thank you, Whyn,” you smile at her, “It’s perfect.”

The girl flushes and bows her head.

You find your original clothes folded neatly in the corner of the room. You rummage in your satchel, and find your vial of Aphrodite’s Cure, tucking it under your corset for safe-keeping. You turn back to Whyn. “I’m ready.”

The maid leads you out of the bathroom down a snaking maze of corridors, until you reach a set of grand mahogany doors. She pushes the doors open for you, and indicates that you should go in.

You whisper your thanks to her again, and then walk into the ballroom. Inside, the dancing has not yet started, and the room is filled with groups of people, conversing with one another. You spot Jungkook at the far corner, by a set of wide windows that look out onto the garden, which is illuminated by lanterns. You walk over, and a smile erupts on Jungkook’s face as soon as he spots you. He steps forward to greet you.

“Whyn has done a fine job,” he says, casting an admiring glance over you.

You feel you face heat up, unsure how to respond.

“If anyone asks,” Jungkook continues, in a low voice, linking his arm through yours and leading you along the ballroom floor, “You are my personal friend. You needn’t give any more information than that.”

You nod, glancing around nervously, “Has Antille arrived?”

“I haven’t seen her yet,” Jungkook says. “I truly hope your fears are unjustified. But if they’re true, I want you by my side, okay?”

“Don’t worry. I don’t plan on wandering off alone.” Looking around the room, you notice many of the people staring at you. “Why are they looking at us?”

“Well, you are walking arm in arm with the heir of Braewyth, who’s rumoured to be in the market for a wife. People are going to be gossiping about our betrothal as we speak.”

You blush at the thought, allowing Jungkook to lead you around the room, stopping every so often to speak with groups of important sounding people.

Every so often, the door will open and someone will announce the name of the eligible young lady who has entered. The lady will smile and curtsey, and then everyone will go on about their business.

You find yourself stuck in an arduous conversion with an old noble, named Lord Chaperlet, about the effects of increased wheat tax, when the doors to the ballroom open once more, and the announcer cries, “Presenting to you, the Lady of Armestice, the honourable Antille.”

You raise onto your tiptoes to catch a glance at the lady over the heads of the crowd that has gathered.

She’s wearing a gold dress that trails across the floor like spilled champagne , her hair curled perfectly around her face. Lord Chaperlet stops wittering on about wheat tax to stare at the young Lady. “Antille truly is a beauty, is she not?” He winks at Jungkook, who gives a diplomatic chuckle, and says, “Now, now, Lord Chaperlet, what would your wife say if she overheard you?”

The older man gives a hearty laugh. Jungkook’s arm remains interlocked with yours, and shows no sign of budging. You swallow your nerves as Lady Antille approaches.

The lady pauses momentarily upon seeing you by Jungkook’s side, and a flash of ice glazes her gaze before she corrects her expression to a polite smile, and makes her way forward.

“Jeon Jungkook,” she coos, “How are you? It’s a pleasure to meet you. You look as handsome as your portraits portray you.”

Jungkook gives a courteous smile, “I’m wonderful thank you.” He takes the hand she proffers him, kissing her fingers, as is the custom when greeting noble women. “And how are you?”

“Fantastic,” Antille smiles, “Although the coach journey here was frightful! The rain was atrocious. Hence my late arrival, you see.”

“Fashionably late, I would say,” Jungkook replies, and Antille giggles behind her white-gloved hand.

You are out of your depth, silently observing this display of courtly manners.

Antille finally glances your way, in the manner one might glance across at an old dog scratching its fleas in the corner. “And who is this?”

You swallow. You may look different in your gown, but you know she has recognised you from your potions store.

Jungkook answers in your silence. “This is my personal friend.” His arm is still slung through yours. His reassuring fingers squeeze you.

“Is that so?” Antille worries her crimson bottom lip with her teeth for a second, her gaze lingering on you, sizing you up.

It’s a relief when Whyn passes with a tray of glasses filled with champagne, moving between you and Antille. “Would you like a drink?” The maid keeps her head bowed.

Antille takes a glass, and hands it to Jungkook, before taking one for herself, “Might as well enjoy oneself.” She raises her glass to Jungkook.

Jungkook brings the glass to his lips. A flash of worry sparks in your head – the only reason you are here is to stop Jungkook from ingesting any potion. Yet, Antille seems happy to drink the champagne...

Instinctively, your fingers tighten around Jungkook’s arm.

A vague scent of rose water and crushed gold floats towards you.

Jungkook glances at you, confused, before understanding floods into his eyes.

Wracking your brain for a good excuse to leave, your hand springs to your neck, feigning surprise. “Oh, I’ve just noticed! My necklace is gone. I was wearing it when I arrived here, but now it’s gone.”

Jungkook picks up on your cue. “Perhaps it fell off in the hallway by the entrance when you took off your cloak. I’ll help you search.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Antille chimes in. “Your friend can manage by herself. After all, everyone in this ballroom is here to speak with you personally, Jungkook. People might talk if you were to leave.”

Seeing Jungkook struggling, you begin sniffing, forcing your eyes to water. “The necklace belonged to my late mother. I can’t believe I was so careless...”

Jungkook hands you a handkerchief so you can dab at your fake tears, and before Antille can say anything else, he escorts you out of the room.

Once the doors of the the ballroom close behind you, you give up your act, following Jungkook down the twisting hallways.

“This is bad,” he mutters, “I should have been more careful. And after your warned me as well!” His hand is firm on your wrist, leading you up a set of stairs, before he slips into a room and quickly bolts the door shut behind him.

You find yourself in a lavish bathroom, this one different from the one you bathed in. Cherub angels are carved into the white frosting-coloured ceiling.

“You need to stay calm,” you tell Jungkook. “It’s going to be okay.”

Jungkook grimaces, “Don’t you understand? That glass came from Whyn’s tray. Antille must have specifically asked her to spike the glass that she would then give me.”

“Maybe Whyn didn’t know what it was,” you suggest.

“Even if she didn’t, a maid shouldn’t put anything into a drink they serve. She’ll loose her job. It’s a shame, I liked her.”

“That’s not the main issue right now,” you remind him, rummaging in the folds of your dress for the vial of Aphrodite’s Cure, “You need to take this.” You hold up the glass to him.

Jungkook smiles, “I’m glad you’re so reliable.”

“I do my best.”

Jungkook makes to take the vial from you, but you pull back, “Wait. You need to take the antidote after the potion actually kicks in.”

“How will I know when that is?” Jungkook asks.

“Even if you don’t notice, I will,” you say, “You’ll start talking gibberish about how in love you are. And you’ll feel a sudden rush of emotion for the first person you looked at after you drank the potion… which was me, I think.”

“Right, of course. A rush of emotions.” He presses his lips together. “Perhaps, for the sake of clarity, I should confess something in that case...”

You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”

“The trouble is,” Jungkook continues “I believe I have already developed feelings for you.”

When you open your mouth, he holds up a hand to stop you. “Before you say anything – no, the potion hasn’t kicked in yet. I’ve felt this way for a while. I just didn’t know how to deal with these feelings, so I’ve repressed them.”

Your heart rises in a flurry of childish giddiness. You don’t know where the feelings come from, but are surprised to find that you desperately hope he is telling the truth. “Perhaps we should wait until you take the antidote, and then we’ll talk about this...”

His eyes glaze over, strange and distant, “My dear, these feelings will remain unwavering, I promise.”

You press the potion into his hands. “Drink,” you command.

He nods, uncorking the vial, and tipping the contents into his mouth. “Goddess, that tastes vile,” he groans. He sucks a breath through his teeth. With his head lowered, he takes a few seconds to recover, before he murmurs, “Thank you.”

You remain silent, not sure what to say. Your mind is still racing over Jungkook’s earlier confession. He said it wasn’t the potion causing the words to fall from his mouth. Yet, you cannot be sure. A part of you is unexpectedly sad at the though that his profession of love was simply the potion speaking.

Somehow, despite your determination to hate him, you are surprised to find that you love him.

Jungkook raises his head, eyes fixed on yours, “Without you I would have made a complete fool of myself. Not to mention, I probably would have ended up betrothed to Antille, which...” he blows out a sigh. “Let’s not dwell on that. Thank you for all your help. I know I’ve treated you poorly in the past, but you’ve still helped me regardless. That’s the sign of a good person.”

You bite down on your cheek, “Jungkook?”

“Yes?”

“What you said...” Once you start, the words keep spilling, “Before the potion kicked in. About being in love with me. Did you mean that?”

“Sorry, it was improper of me to simply dump that upon you all of a sudden,” Jungkook says, “I suppose I should have kept that to myself. I’ve tried to ignore these feelings, since my father would not approve of someone who is not noble-born. I tried to push the feelings away by treating you brusquely, by distracting myself with other women, but none of it worked.”

“So you mean?”

His gaze is inescapable, “I love you.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

Jungkook chuckles, but his tone is earnest, “Sorry, you look like a startled deer. I know it’s improper to confess without suitable courtship first, but our relationship has always been a little unconventional. Spending my time with you, I was fascinated by you. And that fascination turned into something I’ve never felt before. I’ve never been so open or honest with anyone else. You’ve seen the worst parts of me, and you’ve stuck around despite all that.” His cheeks colour, “I truly am just rambling now, please feel free to tell me to shut up.”

You’re still waiting for the part where Jungkook suddenly says, “It’s merely a jape!” His face is serious.

“Jungkook, I… I don’t know what to say...”

“Then don’t say anything, you don’t have to.”

“No, I want to, I just… the words evade me...” you bite your lip, “Your confession certainly came as a surprise, although not an unwelcome one...”

Jungkook’s eyes shine.

“I’m very happy,” you say, “I would be lying if I said I do not have similar feelings for you. I never thought it would be okay to fall in love with a noble, so I never allowed myself the liberty of even thinking...” You hesitate, “Is it really okay for me to love you?”

Jungkook nods, “Nothing would make me happier.”

“But your father?”

“It’s okay. We’ll make it work. The tradition of nobles courting nobles is ver old-fashioned anyway. I never liked it. Eventually, my father will accept whom I choose. And I choose you.”

He takes your hand, delicately bringing your fingers to his lips. The action is so simple, so gentle – a far cry from the kiss you had shared earlier – yet it feels so strangely intimate with his eyes drinking you in, while his warm mouth caresses your skin.

His lips work their way up to your wrist, then your forearm, then your shoulder, then your cheek, then grazing the side of your mouth. You let him kiss you properly, melting into his warmth, while the carved cherubs smile down at you from above.

Parting, Jungkook sighs, “I wish I could enjoy this without the after effects of Impetus Amor... My head’s killing me...”

You smile, “Don’t worry. There’ll be time for all of this later. I’m not planning on leaving your side.” You hold his hand tight in your own. “For now, let’s go to the kitchen, and see if we can find some herbal tea for you.”

✽ ✽ ✽

After a cup of strong tea, Jungkook has perked up, ready to return to the ballroom. He holds your hand in his own as you make your way down to the main hallway. You can hear string instruments harmonising to a waltz from the ballroom. The dancing seems to have started in your absence.

“I hope you’ll dance with me tonight,” Jungkook says.

“Won’t people talk if they see us together?” you ask.

“Let them,” Jungkook says. “I’ll announce our relationship when you feel ready, and not a second before.”

You smile, “In that case, I’d love to dance with you.”

As you enter the ballroom, Antille glances over at the two of you and blanches. Jungkook lets go of your hand, and walks over to her, asking if she is willing to speak with him.

Antille looks around, as if considering her escape routes, but agrees to go with Jungkook – with obvious reluctance. Jungkook draws her to the edge of the room, away from the dancing couples that glide around the ballroom floor. Where the two of them stand, you can hear their conversation well, although they are tucked away from the rest of the ball guests.

“Antille,” Jungkook says, “I know what you have attempted to do.”

Antille glowers, “Attempted to do? What are you talking about?”

Jungkook continues, “I have enough proof to have you publicly disgraced, but I am willing to let you leave with your dignity intact, so long as you never set foot in this house again.”

“Threaten me all you want,” Antille hisses, “But know that you have made an enemy of Armestice today.”

Jungkook’s face twists into a frown, “That’s not a game you want to play, Lady Antille, believe me. The duchy of Braewyth is not one to be messed with.”

Antille is pale. Her eyes fall to you, and anger flashes vividly in her irises. “I thought I made it clear that my purchase was to be kept a secret.”

Jungkook steps closer to you, “Don’t, Antille,” he warns, “Your quarrel isn’t with her.”

The lady, visibly flustered, turns on her heel towards the door. You watch as she leaves the room.

Jungkook turns his attention to you. “Please don’t worry about her. I know what Armestice is capable of, and it isn’t much. Her threats are simply to stir up fear, but she won’t act on them.”

You smile as he threads his fingers through yours, “Now, would you do me the honour of dancing with me?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

You are aware of the eyes boring into you from all sides as you step onto the dance floor with Jungkook, but in that instant, you don’t care. Jungkook is beside you, his eyes on your face, and a smile on his lips.

For now, that’s enough.

✽ ✽ ✽

It’s a cold morning, but the early spring sunshine is shining stubbornly despite the chill as you walk back to your shop. You have a basket of fresh herbs in your hand, picked from the mountain side.

As you turn the corner onto your street, a smile breaks across your face, recognising a familiar figure standing by your door.

You run over to Jungkook, setting down your basket of herbs, so you can freely fling both arms around him.

He grins, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Good morning.”

You unlock the shop door, and let him enter. It’s still an hour until your shop will open for business.

“How has your morning been so far?” you ask Jungkook, throwing off your cloak, and hanging it by the door.

“Good,” Jungkook says, “The new maid prepared a wonderful breakfast. Eggs and bacon and fresh bread.”

“Sounds much better than the oatmeal I had,” you say.

“Once our relationship is officially made public, you can move into the mansion with me,” Jungkook says, “Then you can have all the eggs and bacon and fresh bread you want.”

You begin sorting the freshly picked herbs into piles on the counter, while Jungkook runs an eye over the potions you have sitting out from brewing last night.

“That will be nice,” you say, “Although I will miss this old shop.”

“I’m sure we can set up a room in the mansion where you can have a workshop to continue brewing potions. People would pay well for potions brewed by the heir of Braewyth’s wife.”

You blush at the word ‘wife’, a thrill travelling through you.

Jungkook eyes some of your older equipment, “We can even get you some new tools. Some of these seem a little… rusty.”

“They’ve served me well, I’ll have you know.”

“Just a suggestion.” He sticks his tongue out at you.

You grin at him, “So what did you want from me this morning? We could continue your alchemy lessons… or...”

Jungkook moves around the counter to be by your side. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer. “Well I had a few plans of my own.”

Your fingers curl through his charcoal hair. “I’m listening.”

Jungkook ducks his head down, his breath ghosting against your ear as he whispers his plan with words that make you blush scarlet. Desire pools inside you as his lips trace a path down your neck to your collar bone, “Don’t think you’re getting out of your alchemy lesson later.”

“Yes, m’am,” he grins, taking your hand in his own.

You let him lead you from your shop up the creaky stairs to your living quarters. You are happy to forget all responsibilities for the next hour, completely lost in Jungkook. You never believed a love potion could lead to true love – yet here you are, completely enveloped in Jungkook, overwhelmed by feeling. You don’t believe in the goddess but you thank her now, thank her that she decided to ruin your life by thrusting Jungkook into it.

The man you hated more than anything in the world has now become the man you love more than anything, and you couldn’t be happier for it.

- THE END -

➝ author’s note: thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it.

933 notes · View notes

mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Fake Fiancée - Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer write letters back and forth, both of them slowly starting to fall in deeper. Category: Smut (18+) Content Warnings: Strong language, sexual themes, masturbation (male and female), sexting, face sitting Word Count: 6.3k

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hello!! Sorry this has been so long in the making, but for a while my inspiration for this story absolutely disappeared, and then I tried to think of how to bridge the previous chapters to the final one with absolutely no luck. And then I re-read Part 2 and got stuck on the letter, thus this chapter was born! I didn’t want to drag this miniseries out any longer than 4 parts, and the letter format combined with other inner monologuing and description really allowed me to do that in an interesting way that hopefully doesn’t feel rushed!

It was so much fun and very refreshing to write. I hope you like how it turned out!

Thank you all for being so patient while I get my shit together 😅 Love you guys! Enjoy 🥰

***

We've been sending letters back and forth for about a month now.

If I'm being honest, it took me about two weeks to decide whether or not I actually wanted to send one back, but could you blame me?

Here was this guy I couldn't stop thinking about after a one-night stand, only for him to catch me—months later at the same exact bar we'd met in—flirting with his friend. And then after our sexual encounter that night, all the things we said, the connection I thought we had, all of it...

He left it all behind the next morning, only to send me a letter in the mail.

I was pissed.

Sure, it was a nice letter, but the fact that he'd reduced what we had down to a piece of paper and scribbled ink had made me angrier than I cared to admit.

In retrospect, I may have overreacted.

Over time I started re-reading his words, and the more I thought about it all, the more I started to regret my anger. And more than anything, I just wanted to see him again. I couldn't stay mad at him, not when all I could picture was his pouty face and nervous hands. His sunbeam of a smile peeked through the clouds of my anger here and there, and the longer it settled, the more it bathed me in a warm light that should have made me happy. But all it did was make me long for him.

Once I'd actually started writing that first letter back, I wondered why I hadn't jumped on the opportunity in the first place. I mean, after all the cliché shit we'd experienced in our short relationship thus far, adding love letters to the mix was just as perfect as you could get, right?

Spencer,

I'm sorry it's taken me this long to finally write you back. Truthfully I wasn't sure I wanted to write you at all, but your letter kept drawing me back in. I couldn't stop re-reading it, imagining you sitting down somewhere and contemplating every word as you wrote them down. I wondered if you'd thrown out hundreds of pieces of paper after messing up when you could have just as well typed out a letter without wasting them.

And then by that point, all I could think about was just you.

I always pictured what your living room looks like, or your kitchen table, or your office, or wherever you sit down to write. I wondered if you looked like one of those hopeless writers in the movies that have a scruffy face, coffee stains on their white tee shirts, and messy hair that hasn't been washed in days due to lack of inspiration.

But in the end, the image that won out over all the others was just you as I remember.

I'm not going to lie, that image most of the time was your body above mine while I held my hand to your throat, but for the sake of romance I guess I should probably tell you what it was every other time— the outfit you were wearing the first time we met.

When I think of you, I think of your hand nervously clutching that beer bottle for dear life and the other one occasionally pushing your glasses up your nose. I think of your eyes every time they'd look away from me, probably to keep yourself from staring too long.

But the thing that always gets me the most is your smile— even when it comes in little flashes, after you've said something you probably thought was lame. You covered it up with that perfect smile.

I've dreamt of that smile nearly every night since I met you, and I wouldn't be opposed to seeing it in person again.

I'd love to meet you for dinner some time.

But since you did manage to "more or less abandon me twice now", I think it's only fair that you make it up to me first.

Make the next letter a good one, and we'll see what happens.

Yours, Y/N

P.S. I hope my handwriting is as pretty as you hoped. I'd hate to disappoint.

***

Y/N,

I'm incredibly grateful that you've given me a chance to redeem myself. Every night since I last saw you has also been spent wondering what your house looks like on the inside... What you looked like reading my letter (perhaps at your kitchen table?)

And this might sound silly, but I've also wondered what your bedroom looks like. You may be laughing at me, because I've been in your bedroom, but in my defense I was a bit preoccupied to really take notice of my surroundings— I was simply surrounded by you.

But since I've been to your home, I figured it was only fair that I invite you to mine, possibly for dinner. I don't know how to cook much— in fact I'm pretty awful at making anything that's not a can of Spaghetti-Os... But one of my co-workers is an excellent chef, and with a recipe from him and some practice under my belt, I'm sure I can pull it off.

But by "some" practice, I mean probably weeks or months of practice. So hopefully that gives you ample time to mull it over.

Perhaps in the meantime we can get to know each other through our letters. And who's to say, it might spare us the awkward "getting to know each other" stage of a first date. Though, pretty much every stage of every date is awkward for me, so it might not help at all.

Regardless, I'm very much looking forward to hearing from you again.

I do get called away for work quite often, however. So I apologize in advance if I can't get back to you as soon as I'd like.

But in any instance, you're still welcome to text message or call me. I know it isn't as romantic or personal as handwritten letters, but it's certainly practical.

Yours, Spencer.

P.S. Your handwriting is just as beautiful as I'd imagined it would be. And you could never disappoint me.

That being said, if you somehow decide that this letter wasn't up to your standards and reject my offer, I may just find myself in the deepest despair imaginable.

***

I was definitely way too in my head about this.

It was just a text. Sure, it was a risky text to send, but I had no doubt in my mind that it would be fine in the end.

So why was my stomach churning just thinking about sending it?

Some might have chalked it up to my fat ol' crush on Spencer, but I knew it ran deeper. It had to do at least a little with my history with Patrick... The man stood me up and sent divorce papers to my place of work rather than to my face... And as much as I liked to think I was completely over it, we'd been together for years, and it really did a number on me.

I didn't want to ruin this new thing with Spencer so badly that I was overthinking everything.

So even though I could see his face opening the text, my heart doing jumps at the mere thought of it, a bigger part of me worried that it would be a step too far in the wrong direction. I didn't want him to think I was only in this for... sexual reasons. Which, don't get me wrong, have been pretty damn great so far, but I really did want to get to know him and see where this went.

In the end I decided to hold off. I settled for something a little lighter.

Spencer,

Don't feel too bad about your cooking skills. I've been through my fair share of burnt frozen pizzas to know how you're feeling. So the fact that you've given yourself the opportunity to practice and learn a recipe just for me is extremely romantic, and I appreciate the thought.

I won't stop you from following through, though I'm telling you now that no amount of slaving away in the kitchen will make me change my mind about you. We could probably eat stale crackers on the floor and I'd still find you utterly fascinating.

Maybe that's a bit too extreme, but I hope you get my point.

Anyway, I'd love to come over for dinner some time. Whenever you think you're ready to show me those improved cooking skills, you just let me know and I'll happily make my way over.

In the meantime, I'm thinking of sending more with my letters. I don't want to give away too much, but I will say that I'm very crafty. And don't feel like you need to send anything in return, though I'll let you know if I ever change my mind.

Yours,

Y/N

***

In the bottom right corner of the letter, right next to her signature, was a red lipstick stain in the shape of... well, her lips. It was common sense to know that they were hers and no one else's, not just a stamp or a drawing, and rather her actual lip stain... But even without it, I would have been able to tell by their shape.

Was that pathetic?

I could hear her, picture her in front of me, hovering above me with red-painted lips in the shape of a smirk, visibly cooing as she called me names... I could feel the ghost of her fingertips trailing up my throat and tilting my chin up to look at her as she rocked her hips teasingly into mine...

The whine I let out truly was pathetic.

You pathetic, needy little thing, I could hear her say...

My hands clutched the paper so tightly I thought I'd tear it, but it didn't matter when all I could see while staring at it was her luscious, red lips... Her voice was right there in my ear, like she was really beside me, watching me...

Oh, God, what would she do if she saw me right now? Staring at her lipstick stained paper and subconsciously grinding down into my chair...

You pathetic, needy little thing...

My hips jolted with a small, broken shout of her name, and in no time the front of my pants were flooded with warmth. I felt her eyes burning into me from the void, sparking to life with amusement as her voice crept into the deep corners of my brain and whispered praises to me.

Ohh, what a good little whore... Getting off to the thought of me... That's it, sweet boy... Come for me...

By now my eyes had squeezed shut and the letter was crumpled in my hand, the other reaching down to add much-appreciated burning friction to my crotch as I rode out my orgasm. My whole body tensed and shuddered at every sensation, from Y/N's image behind my eyes to the sweet warmth that pooled in my underwear and soaked through onto my hand.

Holy mother of—

The next time I saw her, I was screwed. I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. I'd surely go red the second I laid eyes on her, and she'd know right away what I was thinking and feeling.

Simply put, it scared and excited me at the same time.

She'd utterly and thoroughly wrecked me, and if she didn't already know it, she certainly would soon.

Y/N,

I'm not sure what you intend to send in addition to your letters, but if it's anything near the sentiment of your lip stain, then you might have to refrain in favor of my poor, fragile heart.

See, it aches for you. It's bad enough I think of you always, but the moment I saw the shape of your lips on that letter, my heart almost shot straight out of my chest. Maybe it was the familiar shape of your lips or the implications of its place next to your name, signed after the word 'yours', that sent me into a tailspin, but whatever the case...

I'm pretty sure I've completely fallen under your spell.

I suppose I should also tell you that my heart wasn't the only part of my body that came to life at your added signature. I assure you, it took no time at all for me to come undone at the thought of your lips pressing gently against the paper, imagining that they were instead pressing to my skin... I didn't even have to touch myself, really. It just happened. Because of you and you alone.

I hope that wasn't too forward, but I felt it necessary that you know just how much of an effect you have on me.

If I could see you again in a millisecond, it wouldn't be soon enough.

That being said, I am determined to spend as much time as possible to perfect this dish for our dinner. Because you deserve nothing but the best, even if you insist that you could settle for less.

It's the least I can do.

Yours, Spencer.

And a week and a half later, when I didn't get a letter back on time, I was sure I'd messed up for good.

My mind was racing a mile a minute, yelling at myself for even thinking for a second of being that detailed in a letter without any consent. Sure, she'd taken it a step up by signing off her letter with a kiss, but I'd been absolutely idiotic in telling her that I got off to it.

I was honestly well and truly prepared to show up at her house with a big bouquet of flowers and an apology so wordy and probably too long for anyone's liking, in hopes that she'd forgive me for making this huge mistake.

Thankfully, though, it wasn't needed.

My phone chimed as I was pacing, my lip near bloody with how hard I'd been chewing at it, and I saw an unknown number attached to a text message and photo attachment.

The photo wouldn't load (I would have to plug it into my laptop and transfer the image there to see it— a fact which always irked Penelope to the core), but with the sentences I saw above the file, I almost knew exactly what I'd find when I had the means to see it.

There. Now we're even... Who says text messages can't be romantic and personal? XXX, Y/N

I felt like Bambi as I scrambled to my laptop three rooms over, stumbling over weak legs with my phone clutched tightly in my hand. My heart raced faster than it ever had as I started everything up and retrieved the right cord for my phone. With a few shakes and stumbles here and there, I briefly entertained the idea of upgrading my phone.

I probably would have left the apartment to do it immediately after seeing her photo attachment, but the moment it loaded up on my screen, my brain and body lost all ability to function properly.

A familiar burn coursed through the lower half of my body and tightened my chest at the sight of her, open and exposed and... wet.

My laptop screen was completely taken over by the image of Y/N's pussy, visibly glistening and aroused. A manicured hand—her hand— was in frame as well, middle finger resting snugly between the supple skin of her wet lips.

The fact that I only tasted her once felt downright cruel.

I tried to imagine it again— my face buried between the softness of her thighs. As much as I wanted to lay her down and indulge myself as long as possible, taking all the time in the world to slowly devour her and truly explore her for myself, what ran through my mind then was something more in the vein of our dynamic thus far.

My mind wandered, specifically to a place where I was the one laying down as she sat down directly onto my face and gave me what she thought I deserved. My hands were tied to the bed, maybe handcuffed. All I knew was that I couldn't touch her, and it bothered me. So I whined, and every time the sound left my mouth, she would let up, lifting further out of reach and causing me to instinctively reach my head up to chase her.

You greedy little slut... Take what I give you...

Desperately seeking her approval, I told her I'd be good and rejoiced when she lowered herself down to me again, allowing me to me completely wrapped up in her once more. My tongue lapped and lapped, gathering as much of her as I could before she'd inevitably leave again.

But she never did.

Somehow I kept my quiet, even though it was extremely difficult, and ate her out like my life depended on it. She glided smoothly over my face, coating more than just my lips in her arousal, and it thrilled me to my very core.

Every time I breathed in I could smell her, every time she groaned out my name my stomach fluttered, and it wasn't long before she was clutching my hair, shaking above me while I drank her in and repressed my whines.

My hips were uncontrollable though, bucking up into nothing and begging for any type of stimulation.

But then suddenly it was there— Her hand, firmly wrapping around my dick and gliding over it beautifully with a slickness that she must have transferred from her pussy. I could still taste her as I cried out her name, her movements quickening with every second until—

I didn't even realize I was actually alone until my eyes opened, cum coating my hand, my heartbeat heavy and loud, and the laptop screen in front of me a shade darker signaling a long period of inactivity.

I'd done it again...

And now we most certainly were not even.

I glanced over at my phone—plugged into the laptop—and then down at my lap, and my stomach knotted as my next move rang clear as day.

***

I woke up the next morning to texts from Spencer, and my heart picked up speed, a gentle warmth blooming through my chest at the sight.

I thought maybe he'd thank me for the photo I'd sent. Maybe he'd return it with an influx of messages along the lines of Oh my god, Holy fuck I miss you, and the like.

But what I wasn't expecting was to see a photo in return, of his hand that I'd dreamt of nearly nightly, wrapped firmly around his cock and all of it completely covered in cum.

Below the photo were three messages in a row, and each one gave me more butterflies than the last.

Sorry for low quality. No smartphone.

Also sorry we're not even anymore.

But I'm not sorry I did it- you're too perfect to resist.

***

Dearest Y/N,

I'm sorry you haven't gotten a letter from me in a while. And I know we've kept in touch through texting and calling while I was swamped at work, though now that I have some time off, I'd love to write you again. As much as I enjoy our virtual conversations, I still find sending letters to be my preferred method of communication (only second to speaking with you in person, that is).

Which brings me to the main point I'm trying to make.

I want to see you again. In person. I'm not completely confident in my cooking ability yet, but if you wouldn't mind the potential of it tasting awful, I'd love to have you over. I promise you nothing but the best, and I know that's a high promise, especially considering I probably haven't sold you on the meal, but it's true.

I'd do anything to please you.

And I really do mean 'anything', I hope you understand that.

Yours, Spencer.

***

The thought of seeing him in person again after so long made my hands way shakier than I would have liked. It made no sense the longer I thought about it, because it was obvious that we liked each other, and seeing each other in person wouldn't be a problem. Because it'd never been a problem before.

It irked me.

Still, I knocked on his door and physically shook out my hands, praying I could keep my cool when he finally opened the door.

But I should have known better.

One second I was staring at a large plank of wood, and the next I was staring into frantic eyes, golden and sparkling just as I remembered, but with an added glimmer of fear that matched the shakiness of my hands.

I don't know how long we stood there, just staring at each other, but the longer we did, the more we relaxed. His fear was gone, and the shaking in my hands turned into a dull hum that longed to reach out for him.

Still, I refrained, settling on a simple, "Hey, pen pal..."

By the way he looked at me, silent as ever, I started to wonder if that was a stupid thing to lead with. So I opened my mouth to apologize, to say anything else, but he beat me to it.

"Y/N... I... H—Hi, you look... incredible."

"O—Oh, thanks... Thank you, yeah, I um... figured I should... dress up a little. I know we're not going out anywhere, but I thought it might be nice."

He doesn't need to know that, Y/N, stop talking!

I gave him a small smile and a nervous laugh in an attempt to stop myself, hating how I was so nervous around him.

Spencer didn't seem to mind, though. He let me in and closed the door behind me as I quickly glanced around his apartment. It was littered with greens and browns, books everywhere, and I'd never felt more at home.

"Is it, uh... What you expected?"

"Hmm?" I turned to meet him, his soft voice pulling me from my wandering eyes.

"My apartment."

"Oh! Yeah, it's very you... I love it."

The compliment had his cheeks turning pink, and there was nothing I wanted to do more than kiss them over and over again.

And just like that, once again we were caught just staring at each other. I didn't know what he was thinking, and honestly, I didn't know what I was thinking either. All I knew in that moment was that Spencer Reid was standing right in front of me, close enough to touch, and I wanted to give in.

I was so wrapped up in the idea of feeling him that I almost didn't hear him speak. I wouldn't have heard him at all had it not been for his lips moving.

"I'm sorry, I haven't started dinner yet..."

"That's okay," I reassured. Or, at least I tried to. Really, though, I think it sounded more like I was uninterested in what he was saying, my voice flat and lifeless as I continued to stare at him.

Suddenly we were closer, and I had to look up higher to see his face, butterflies swarming in my stomach at the way he looked down at me.

"You're sure?"

"Mhm."

"I can start it now if you're getting hungry."

Food isn't what I'm hungry for, is what I thought. I almost said it, too, because he was even closer now, his hands coming out to touch mine. If they were humming before, they were certainly blaring with life now, growing hot under his light touch. And it took everything I had not to look down, because it had been too damn long since I'd seen his hands in person, and I wanted them on me immediately.

He could tell, too. He could sense my urgency, feel the longing radiating off my presence, and I knew this because I could feel his, too. His eyes practically dared me to say what I was thinking, and so I did.

"Don't you dare."

It was hard to tell who moved in first, but it really didn't matter.

I was here, in his apartment, feeling his lips glide over mine with reckless abandon, and that's all that mattered.

His hands gripped my waist so tightly I would have thought he was trying to hold me in place, to make sure I wasn't ever going to leave his sight again. And if that was the case, I would have let him hold me there forever.

My hands, meanwhile, clutched at his hair, forcing myself closer and closer to him with every sharp tug. I reveled in the way he whined into my mouth with every little thing I did, whether it was a tug of the hair or a roll forward of the hips, or even a swipe of my tongue over his.

He was putty in my hands yet again, and just like every time before, it turned me into a fucking goner.

Being with Spencer wasn't like anything I'd ever known. And the only other thing I'd known was Patrick. He didn't want me, not really, and even though he was good to me in the beginning, it was never like this.

I didn't come over to his apartment with shaking hands. I didn't send him fucking love letters almost weekly, and I certainly didn't get kissed like this...

Spencer was drunk on me, and I wasn't any sober myself.

"That picture you sent me..." I mumbled over his lips, still keeping myself as close as I could while I got out what I needed to say. "Where did you take that?"

We kissed for a few more seconds, unable to stay apart, before he answered, his voice just as breathy and brimming with desperation as mine. "My office. Just down the hall."

I kissed him again, hard, and then pulled back to look him in the eyes. They widened when I said, "Show me."

He dragged me through the apartment on rushed legs, and I almost laughed at the urgency, only stopped by the realization that I was just as urgent. It occurred to me that perhaps my laughing at his urgency might just be a slight turn on for him, given our history with my playful degradation, but still I pulled back— Tonight felt... different.

It didn't feel like we were headed in the direction of me calling him my dirty little whore throughout the night, and it was something I was more than okay with. In fact, I welcomed it, excited to see where this new night would take us.

We ended up in his office, which remained more or less the same aesthetic as the rest of his place. In the middle sat a small desk with a laptop and some papers scattered about on it, accompanied by a tall floor lamp and a rolling desk chair.

"Where were you exactly?" I mused, gripping his hand tightly and buzzing at the way his fingers flexed against my own.

"In the chair... I pulled the photo up on my laptop."

"Right. No smartphone."

Spencer hummed in confirmation before dragging me along to the chair, and I fucking giggled as he plopped down and practically pulled me right on top of him, the chair rolling back a foot or two. I went down for a bright, messy kiss that ended with his hands clutching my ass over my skirt and my own cradling his face.

His growing bulge nudged right up into my inner thigh, and I groaned lightly in his mouth, my fingers dragging softly down his jaw and neck until I reached his shoulders.

"What were you thinking about?"

He raised his eyebrow, and I rocked my hips forward with a sly grin, hoping to get my point across. "When you were looking at my picture, in this very chair, what were you thinking about?"

Seeing his eyelids stutter and his tongue dart out at my movements sent a rush through me, and I moved my hips once more to emphasize my urgency.

"I... I thought about you... riding my face. You tied my hands..."

"Oh?" I sighed, rocking forward again and humming into his neck. "Well, that can definitely be arranged if you want it bad enough..."

"Please, Y/N, yes... Please..."

The need dripping from every syllable made it near impossible to breathe, and I was suddenly very inclined to give him everything he wanted. With or without the begging.

So I reluctantly peeled away from him and stood up on weak legs. Staring at Spencer as he sat there, leaning back in the chair with disheveled hair and obvious desire in his eyes, made it all the better when I took my panties off from under my skirt and motioned for him to come forward. "On your knees?"

I would have demanded it in any other situation, but I was feeling a bit more sweet this time around.

And he seemed grateful for it, sliding the chair back further and getting down in front of me. I reached out and played with his hair, trying my hardest to commit his beautiful face to memory. I wanted it burned there for the rest of time.

"Hands?"

Spencer offered his hands to me, and I hummed happily, doing my best to tie his hands together with a makeshift knot from my panties. It wasn't really tight or secure, but it was enough for him to whine as he set them in his lap.

He watched intently as I dropped my skirt—a bit redundant now, but I thought it'd be a nice way to get him more excited. Plus I wanted to see his face (or at lease what I could see of it while it was buried between my legs).

I stepped forward then, looking down at him with a smile while my hands reached out to comb through his hair. "You ready?"

"Uh huh."

The look in his eyes right before I came forward and hovered over his face almost made my come on the spot.

But as fun as that would have been, I was glad for the way my body held off and settled for a beautiful, burning increase of pleasure that dragged out the longer he swiped his tongue through my folds. Actually, I forgot for a moment that I was supposed to be moving, riding his face like he'd thought about.

I willed my eyes open and clutched Spencer's soft locks of hair beneath me, gently rolling my hips and grinding down further on his face. The groan he let out not only felt good against my skin, but it sounded like pure bliss, eliciting a small whimper of my own as I tightened my grip in his hair and rocked faster.

"God, I missed having your mouth on me, baby... You're... so good..."

The longer I spoke the more breathless I became, not because the words didn't come easily, but because I truly believed them to be true.

Spencer really was so fucking good, his tongue the most delicate, divine object of the universe as it drew out every ounce of delight from my body. I may have been the one above him, calling the shots and directing him where and how to please me, but he was the one who clung to my soul like static and politely guided me towards damnation.

I wasn't even sure of my surroundings to tell you the truth. As my body tensed and took me through one of the most blinding pleasures I'd experienced in weeks, My eyes were squeezed so tightly it's like I saw the universe. All I knew was Spencer's lips sucking my clit and my hands deeply rooted in his hair as I shouted incoherently, stars swirling around behind my eyelids.

Truly, for all I knew, we could have been in space. It wouldn't have made any difference.

But eventually it came to be too much. I was reaching a limit I didn't want to get to so quickly, and so I flashed my eyes open and tried to adjust to this brand new atmosphere, unweaving my fingers through pretty brown waves of hair and stepping back to assess the situation.

What I found was the most beautiful man I'd ever known, panting like he'd just ran a marathon and yet harboring the most intense joy and desire a person could hold. He was on his knees, bound hands writhing in his lap as he awaited further instruction and licked up as much of myself on his face as he could before I stopped him.

Under normal circumstances, I would have wanted to absolutely ruin him. That adoring, desperate look in his eye would have spurred me to more devious endeavors, but all I wanted in this moment was to make sure he was satisfied. I wanted to take care of him, to let him know that I longed to make him feel as worshipped and adored as he'd made me feel.

I got down to Spencer's level, quickly removing the fabric from his wrists and hauling him to his feet, where he now towered over me, still waiting for words to address and instruct him.

Instead, I leaned up with soft hands upon his cheeks and pulled him down to meet my lips in a kiss that changed the tone entirely. It was erotic still, of course, what with my arousal infiltrating my taste buds and eliciting a soft sigh from the both of us, but our urgency manifested in sweeter ways... Softer lips, gentle touches of the face, and an exchanging of breath that was so smooth and seamless it felt like we were floating on air.

I was finding it hard to breathe again, but it wasn't an issue in the slightest. In fact, there was nowhere else I'd rather have been than right there, kissing Spencer Reid like we had all the time in the world.

When the breathlessness was a little too much to bear, we pulled away, though only leaving just enough space to breathe. Our lips stayed briefly connected while we caught up, and his hands found their way to the sides of my face. The way they practically engulfed my whole head brought a brief smile to my lips as I finally gave him the words he was looking for.

"I'm so glad I met you," I whispered.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing."

We kissed each other again, naturally and with so much ease that I wondered how I had ever lived without him.

And then, as my hands slid gently down his chest, I felt it.

Something that felt very much like a ring attached to a necklace sat right where his heartbeat resided, and I knew exactly which ring it was.

"W—" I pulled back and circled the shape of it with my finger through the shirt, then looked up at him. "Is that what I think it is?"

Spencer looked briefly panicked, pulling away a little and fishing down the front of his shirt for the chain. "Oh... Um, yeah. I, um... I forgot to take it off, I'm sorry. I..."

"You... kept it?"

I observed the diamond as it laid flat on my palm, still attached to the chain and around his neck. Honestly, after all this time I figured he'd never found it or gotten rid of it, seeing as he never brought it up. And yet there it was, glittering in the palm of my hand as my other one presses firmly against Spencer's rapidly beating heart.

"Y—Yeah... It um... It was really the only physical thing I had to remember you—Well, at least until we started sending letters... And I guess I just... W—Wearing it has become such a habit that I forgot to take it off."

"You never take it off?"

I could tell he was nervous, and rightfully so given I wasn't really letting on how I was feeling about the whole thing.

Still, he answered my short question in such a small whisper I'd have thought he was trying not to get in trouble.

"No."

"Why?"

My words certainly weren't helping ease his anxieties, so I remained close, dropping the ring and focusing rather on his eyes. I softened the look in my own and glided my hands down to hold his. His fingers flexed against mine, squeezing them for dear life as he sighed out in relief and flashed me a soft smile.

"Because... I wanted you close to my heart."

With a smile that mirrored his eyes, full of enchantment and pure adoration for the person in front of me, I didn't use my brain and instead focused on what my heart was telling me, consequences be damned.

"I think I might love you..."

Spencer squeezed my hands tighter, that relief spreading out to all his features and brightening that beautiful smile.

"Funny... I was just thinking the same thing."

Our lips met once more, and I swear it was like nothing bad was ever going to happen for the rest of time.

I'd never felt that way. Not once with Patrick did my heart feel settled into place, even during the great parts of our relationship.

And now here I was, with a man who sent me love letters and kept every physical reminder of my existence, who kissed me like I was the most precious thing in the world and slowly mended my wounded heart.

He held me close the whole way to his bedroom and never let me go until the morning. Though, even then his arms outstretched towards me and his fingers flexed, needing to grab onto any part of me that he could find.

And as I was sure I always would, I welcomed him with open arms.

***

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fangirl-everythang · 3 years

Text

Last Nerve H.S

Summary: Harry x Reader; Harry chooses a particularly rough day to be extra clingy leading to some events...

Warnings: Swearing, Oral Sex, Sex, Spit

Word Count: 1530

Today was not the fucking day. It started this morning when Harry decided my sleep was more important than my 8 am board meeting, so he turned off the alarms. All of them. And guess who was late to one of the MOST important days of their career. That's right you guessed it, me.

Not only that but he's just constantly clinging to me from the moment I woke up in a panic to the moment I stepped foot through the door. I couldn't even take my shoes off without him near me. I love him but Jesus fuck.

I groan as I hear the handle in the bathroom giggle. "Yes, Harrold?" I huff.

"I just wanted to see you love."

"You've seen me literally all day" I sigh opening the door. "Actually, no I haven't." He smiles cheekily rubbing my side. I just roll my eyes and pad back to the bedroom. Unbuttoning my top and tugging my pants down. "How was work?" He asks from the bed.

"How do you think it was Harry?" Attitude prominent in my tone as I switch my shirt.

"Not bad?" He questions. I huff in annoyance as I turn to go downstairs but none the less, he follows. "So, was it bad?"

I just nod patience with him thinning incredibly fast. "Like bad or bad bad?"

"Bad bad Harry." He pouts and embraces me. "And all better now?"

Walk away. Walk away. "I'm gonna go pick dinner up, do you want anything?" He frowns "Why are you leaving to go pick the pizza up when they deliver?" He ask.

"I need the walk." And with that I head out before he can get another sound out.

-----25minutes later----

I think I'm okay. For now at least. Putting my key in the door and carrying the semi cold pizza in the other, I know one of two things may have happened when I left. The first being that he is mad or he's waiting. And I hope it's the first option.

"There you are, I thought you got lost." He sighs in relief.

"Its only three blocks away please calm your titties." He grins and I can't help but to smile back.

The pizza isn't half bad and where do you go wrong with old Friends re-runs. After we finish the show is still playing but Harry isn't paying it nearly as much attention as the hand he's holding. " You know I love you."

"I know Harrold." He just pouts

"You don't love me?" He asks pulling me into his lap discarding the remote.

"I do Harry, I really do but and I mean this in the nicest possible way, you're getting on my last nerve today."

He chuckles and points to himself, "Me? getting on your last nerve?" The aura in the room shifts, his eyes a deeper shade of green. Going to move from his lap he just places his hand on my hip.

"Where do you think you're going darling?" Before I could speak he just continues playing with my panty line.

"You know technically... " he says slowly with lingering hands. I feel my body shudder as his long fingers brush over my clit. "This is your last nerve." He continues rubbing the small nub through my panties, "I don't know about getting on it per say, but I'm sure there are other things I could do." When he halts his movements a whine escapes my lips with a sudden urge for him to make me cum. "Harry don't be a tease please."

"Tell me what you want y/n." He says smirking. "Shirt off Harrold." He grips the bottom of my shirt "nuh-uh Haz" he looks at me confused. "Yours." He quickly pulls his shirt over his head exposing his beautifully tatted body. I can feel my pussy dripping, but he knows better. Grabbing my shirt, I slowly take it off as he lets out an animalistic growl. Pulling my panties down while he watches I make my way to the arm of the couch as he hurriedly removes his pants and lays in front of me. Spreading my legs I run a finger through my folds he looks at me hungrily. Before I could speak to taunt him his lips where on my pussy .

"Fuck Harry, I didn't tell you to do that." I say between pants. He moans continuing to bury himself between my legs showing no mercy. His tongue teasing my hole. A string of moans and curse words leaving my lips and right now I'm praising this couch. He loops his arms around my thighs holding me in place as he continues to devour me, leaving no part of me untouched. Leaning on my elbows to watch him I feel myself nearing my edge as he looks at me. The sounds his mouth is making against my vagina is unholy for sure. He takes his thumb and presses random patterns onto my nub and I'm done for. My hands pulling his hair as my thighs clench around his head moaning out his name. He keeps kitten licking me as I come down from my high. "Harry." He raises an eyebrow while looking at my swollen labia "hmm?"

"Kiss me." He complies kissing me with force. I can taste myself on him as he pushes his tongue in my mouth. His hand comes up to my throat applying pressure not too much but enough to make me want more. He forces my head up, "open your mouth darling, and don't you fucking close it. Got it?" I nod expecting him to stand and put his dick in my mouth but boy was I wrong. He inserts two fingers into my mouth and as I begin to suck them he pinches my bum " I said don't close that pretty fucking mouth." He says putting more pressure on my tongue. He looks like he's contemplating something before I could question it I feel something sliding down my throat.

My thighs clench together almost instantly. Its nasty but he makes it so hot, his spit gliding down my throat I swallow it as if it were my own. "Good girl." He takes his thumb and wipes my chin. Pulling me back down to the couch level. Looking at his throbbing length, his tip is so pink leaking with precum. I reach between us and line him up with my entrance. He runs his tip through my folds tapping my clit with it. "Am I getting on your last nerve y/n?" He whispers. "Are you Harry?" I ask before attacking the spot just below his ear, leaving a reminder for the both of us.

Grabbing his length and pushing him into me I begin moving my hips as he lets out the sexist moan in my ear. "So wet y/n" he grunts pushing into me all the way almost leaving me breathless.

"So tight" he moans as I clench around him. He feels so good inside of me. Rhythm of his own being made as he speeds up his thrust. He dips his head on my shoulder and attacks my collar bone with kisses sure to leave very visible marks all over. The pleasure from his lips sending my senses into overdrive but I need him to come first. Reaching up to kiss him it's just teeth clattering and moans being exchanged.

"You fuck me so good Harry." I whisper in his ear as he gives out a particularly hard thrust causing both of us to moan loudly, hitting a spot that has dots fading into my vision.

"M'gonna cum baby" he tells me as I tighten around him he pushes into me reaching around to rub my clit, I quickly grab his hand and lace our fingers together as he bites down hard filling me with his cum pushing through sloppy thrust. Once he finishes, he looks up at me.

"You didn't cum." He frowns. I grab his cheeks and softly kiss him.

" I don't think you know how hard it was for me not to cum again." He looks at me skeptically, " and why is that?" he ask placing little kisses on my breast. "You'll see if you ever take your dick out of me." He smirks and roughly grabs my jaw, " Your pussy's mine." He slowly pulls out watching our arousal drip out of me "fuck y/n" He whispers.

"Finish me off Harry, use it." He smiles at my request "You're such a dirty girl for me aren't you princess" He leans down and runs his tongue over the bruise he left on me as his fingers gather our mixture and he spreads it on my clit. He rubs fast circles edging me on using his middle and ring finger he pumps them nearly knuckle deep, occasionally brushing over my g-spot, whispering sweet nothings in my ears. My orgasm ripples through my body sending me into a world of pure bliss. Coming down from this high left me panting he just smirks at me, playing with the arousal that now adorns my thighs.

"look at the mess you've made darling"

A/N: Long time no see, well I have said that I wanted to get back into writing so here you are my loves. I wanted to disclose that this is also on my Wattpad ( fangirl_everythang) which contains more of my work that I’ll be posting. I figured I could reach a bigger audience this way but the nerves are wrecking me; I’ve heard so many stories about authors getting their work taken. It’s heart breaking and makes it all that much more scarier. I'm not too sure how I feel about this smut scene but I do think it embodies Harrold pretty well😊 Anyways let me know how you guys like it, or if you don’t. (I take request as well)

xoxoJanelle

#harry #harry styles #harry smut #harry styles smut #harryx reader #y/n #harry styles and y/n #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #writing #imagine #oneshot #smut #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #spit play #harry styles blurb

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crystalsoba · 3 years

Text

Karl Heisenberg x reader

Reader is the daughter/Son of Lord Moreau, a gift given to him as a sacrifice for mother Miranda as a token of protection. The child takes a strange liking to Moreau and mother Miranda let him keep you.

Warnings: None, enjoy

_________________________________________

Age, 1 year old:

.Two hooded figures carrying a basket were walking through the short path to the edge of the forest just at the edge of the reservoir. The basket containing a one year old child, as mother Miranda demands more personal offerings from the village she called upon the small community for a new born out of desperation. But with no child young enough for the offering the village decided they would offer the best next thing, you.

.Your parents didn't want to give you up, but they couldn't ignore her forever. And guaranteed safety for the village was deemed worthy enough to sell there own child.

.The world was unforgiving and cruel especially to you. Since the moment you were born the village doctors deemed you cursed by the mold, infected with the virus at a young age the doctors said you would die soon. But in some stroke of luck you had managed to survive the mold, making you strong and resilient to its corruption. But that didn't mean it was painless, you spent most of the time crying from your ailments. Your body being pushed to it's limits at such a young age was physically effecting your well being.

.Your mother tried cradling the basket in an attempt to calm your sobbing while your father cleared the path. As they arrived at the gates of the great lord Moreau's domain they knocked hesitantly still wondering if this was the best thing to do. They slowly made there way into the reservoir as the gates opened with a loud screech. They laid down the basket gently and got on there knees, starting to plea that there sacrifice would be taken without upseting mother Miranda for not giving what was asked of them.

.As a swarm of ravens appeared they turned silent, awaiting her reaction. She gently opened the basket eagerly awaiting the results. Once she had seen it was not a new born but instead a child she grew displeased.

."Mother Miranda, please we beg of you. Take this child! There has not veen any new borns to deliver in the village. We ask of you to take our child instead." Your mother pleaded with desperation.

.Mother Miranda inspected the small child currently sleeping in her arms. She could tell it was strong but not as physically healthy as shed like. "I shall take the child. Thank you for cooperating to my desires. Your village shall live in safety for the time being."

.And with that she disappeared as a swarm of ravens flew off. She took you to her personal lab to tinker and research. She could tell you held potential but lacked the health you needed.

.She laid your sleeping figure down on the operating table and prepared your shot. You started to cry as the liquid was dosed into your body. Miranda quickly grabbed her note pad to write the results. She watched as your crying became louder to the point where it started to hurt. The more you cried the more you cried the more nauseous she felt. She gripped her head in pain as the screaming continued, she could feel herself getting dizzy. She looked at you in horror as she fell over to the floor.

.Your screams could be heard from the hallways of the building echoing around the area making anyone who could hear them sick to the point of collapsing. Moreau was hoping to meet mother Miranda to discuss something she had been wanting to ask of him. As he waited for her he heard the sound of a child's cry, as if it was calling out to him he felt somewhat compelled to go towards the noise. He walked towards the noise walking through the hallway to a door.

.Not wishing to possibly intrude on mother Miranda he slightly cracked open the door to see her on the floor nearly unconscious. He ran into the room to her side grabbing hold of her hands. She limply pointed to the child wailing on the table "Get....The child." She breathed out in pain. He staggered towards the child and picked it up, inspecting it for a short while.

.As he attempted to hold you, you soon calmed down. Your crying coming to a stop. He watched as mother Miranda re gained consciousness and weakly sat up. You smiled at him while trying to grab at his face. He had never been so close to a child before, he never realised how wonderful they could be. A child would never see him as a freak or moron, you were pure and innocent not easily tainted by the world around you.

.Mother Miranda watched as the two of you formed some sort of bond with each other. She looked at you, she could tell you drained her powers as if you sucked the energy out of her. She felt weak to the point of falling over. She couldn't have you be Roses vessel. Your powers were too much to handle or contain. She had to get rid of you.

."Moreau. May I speak with you for a second?" She made it sound like a request but she had a plan. Surely he couldn't handle taking care of you, you'd probably starve or get injured under his care. Moreau walked towards her still holding the child as it kicked in excitement. "I have a request."

."Anything for you mother." He insisted. She looked at the child. "Take care of the child for me, raise it as your own." He was surprised, he had no knowledge of raising a child or any creature at that. But mother Miranda had a task for him, and you did seem to enjoy his company. He was silent for a while contemplating the possibility. "Of course mother. I shall take care of them." He knew if he could succeed at raising a child than the other two lords would finally see him as more than an idiot. She nodded and disappeared.

.He didn't know where to start or what to do. He knew that the reservoir wasn't the safest place for a child to be wandering around. So he searched for help in the village. Searching for knowledge on how to raise a child. He read as many books and ad much advice as he could. Slowly preparing himself.

.He noticed how you had grown closer to him over the next few weeks. You attempted to walk to him, speak to him, play with him. He found himself enjoying his new life with you, he learned how to make you laugh and how to tend to you when you were unhappy.

.He knew that he'd have to shelter you from the darkness of the world to preserve your innocence and to keep you away from the other two lords. But that seemed easy enough.

.He also decided on a name for you, "Y/N." He vowed to always protect you from the world to the best of his abilities.

Present day

.You were on a walk through the forest with your father trying to take his mind off of work. He's been pushing himself to hard lately. You didn't quiet understand what it is he does but he works for mother Miranda and that's all he has ever told you about his work. Personally you never liked Miranda, your father was being used by her like a pawn. You never said anything but you knew that she never truly cared for your father. You hinted at it, attempting to get him to see the truth for what she really is.

."Father can I come to the meeting just this once?" You desperately pleaded. You wanted to know more of his work and what he was really doing for Miranda. You knew asking was pointless but you'd still try at the very least.

.He shook his head "The other lords are too dangerous to be around." He waved dismissively. "I don't want you getting caught up in the business." You rolled your eyes

."Well didn't Mother Miranda give me to you as a baby? Don't you think she might want to see how I'm doing?" He didn't say anything for a while considering it. You headed the fact you had to use her as an excuse but you were tired of her.

."I will think about it, first you have to prove to me that you can handle the other lords especially Lady Dimitrescu and Heisenberg."

.You smiled and hugged him "Thanks dad." He sighed and hugged back "Of course you know this means that mother Miranda will ask you to preform certain tasks for her." You nodded. Maybe then you would have a chance to prove she's using him.

.The next few days you worked hard to prove yourself, running the reservoir while your father worked for Miranda. As the days approached for the next meeting your father asked to host. Much to everyone's displeasure.

.You cleaned up the reservoir as best as you could, clearing out the over grown plants and gunk. It wasn't much but it was at least looking better. You were excited to see what your father actually does.

.On the day they were going to be arriving you put on your best clothes to look presentable. You waited eagerly for every one to show.

.The first to arrive were Lady Dimitrescu and Beneviento. You watched as your father greeted the two women from the docks. Both of them looking disgusted by the smell of the reservoir.

."It smells like something died here. When was the last time you cleaned around here" the tall woman scoffed as she trudged through the mud. "Honestly I don't know why you wanted to hold the meeting here. It's such a waste."

.The next was who you assumed to be Heisenberg. He looked to be around your age, and to be honest he didn't look too bad.

."Really Heisenberg? You're late again? Honestly I don't know what mother Miranda expects from you." Was she really like this all the time?..

.The man responded with a glare "Well so what I was a little late? At least I can do my job without making it the biggest hassle in the world. I can see why mother Miranda has been choosing me over you as of late." He turned his back to her as she growled.

.You let out a small laugh at the two's childish behavior as you crossed the water by boat. You made your presence known as the boat hit the dock with a small thunk. The three lords looked at you.

."Moreau, who is this? You never had a servent before." Dimitrescu eyed your form from top to bottom.

."And why do you get the pretty ones?" Heisenberg winked at you behind the glasses he wore making you slightly flustered as he took a step closer to you.

.Moreau quickly stepped in between you and the others "Not a servant! This is my child, Y/N." He quickly stated before gesturing to you.

.You bowed lightly as the others stared in shock. "I'll be damned. You made them? I don't believe you." Heisenberg purred. Dimitrescu stepped forward "Such a pure soul. How ever did you of all people manage to raise a child. And Heisenberg put it back in your pants, would you. I doubt they would want anything to do with you." She sighed.

.Moreau held out a hand for you to help you step out of the boat. You looked stunning, Heisenberg could feel himself longing for you, his stupid hormones getting in the way. But he had to admit the fish freak had done something right for once. "Karl Heisenberg, please call me Karl." You smiled as you shook his hand "Y/N." Your voice wad soft compared to his.

.Before anything else could be said your father pulled you back next to him, glaring at Karl. The two had a short eye contest before mother Miranda appeared. A group of crows swarmed the area leaving feathers scattered everywhere. She sure was intimidating, her tall stature and ominous look was enough to show she had power.

.She looked around at everyone spotting you, she looked at you with a forced smile. "Y/N my child I have not seen you since you were a child." She tilted your head up to inspect your features. "It is an honor to meet you mother." You also faked a smile as she nodded. Karl was the only one to notice your disliking to her presence, he started thinking. Maybe you were special.

.With that you backed up behind your father as the meeting went on. You found it quiet boring to be honest. You noticed Karl taking quick glances at you smirking ever so slightly. Not that you minded. You were also interested in him and how he joined mother Miranda.

."Y/N." You felt everyone stating at you as she motioned you forward. When you stood in front of her she put a finger to your forehead but flinched away after a few seconds. You tilted your head in confusion. You sensed fear when she pulled away, something she couldn't control. "My child you have been blessed with a very... interesting ability. I must ask of you to join your father in helping me. I can teach you to control your supernatural abilities if you join me and become part of my family."

.You didn't know how to react. House Y/N did have a nice ring to it. But at the same time you didn't trust her. But if you said no... "It...It would be an honor. Mother Miranda." The others clapped for you, welcoming you to the 'family'. Your father looked at you proud and some what worried. Heisenberg must have sensed the hesitation as he only stared at you as if wanting to stop you from joining.

.You walked back to your father starting to feel like you had made a mistake of some kind. He hugged you as the others started to leave "I'm proud of your decision Y/N." You nodded with another lie of a smile. You knew Miranda was up to something. If only your father could see the lies she was spinning around him. At least with you here you could put some sort of barrier between them.

.Before you could leave Karl walked behind you. "You know, I've never gotten to see the reservoir before." You looked around for your father not knowing what to say. "Do...do you want a tour?" You scratched the back of your neck nervously. "I'd love one." He gave you one of his signature smiles and a wink. You quickly turned around to hide the look on your face.

.You both walked for a while, you showed him all the functions of the reservoir and the work you do for your father. As the tour came to an end he stoped "Your not his real child are you?" He questioned. "No... not biologically. But he was the one who raised me after mother Miranda gave me to him." He hummed in understanding. "Mother Miranda....." so that's what this is about. "You don't like her do you." You gulped and clenched your fists. "...No." he chuckled "Good, I was scared I was the only one." He smiled at you, his hat covered half of his face.

.He watched as slight shock appeared on your face. He couldn't help but smile at you, as much as he hated it he could feel the human part of him yearning for you, something about you was special. He could feel it.

.You laughed, effectively confusing him. "What are you laughing at?" Your laugh turned into a soft giggle before speaking "Us. What are we going to do? Is there anything we can do? I don't know what she wants or what she's going to do to us. I mean is there any way we can take her down?" He blushed before smirking "Us? You mean were going to work together to take the psycho down?"

."Oh...I just assumed that..." He waved it off "No, no, I like it. So. You and me, partners?" You smiled and shook his hand "Partners."

.The two of you parted ways, going back to your respective areas. You felt comforted to have someone on the same page as you for once.

.Over the next few weeks you had only seen Miranda twice, the first time was to privately discuss what it was she wanted you to do. She wanted you to learn to control your powers and use them in the village to be her prophet. She explained what it was your powers were.

.Your emotions are so strong that they could effect the others around you if you chose too. Giving you the ability to heal to an extent or bring joy to the people around you. She didn't say anything about what your negative emotions could do to the others but you figured that's what she initially saw back at the meeting.

.You walked to the village with her on the second time she visited. She brought you to the village to introduce you as a new lord and prophet to the people. You noticed how sheep like they were. Listening to her out of fear more than devotion. You felt pity on them and figured that you might as well help them as best as you could. You never explored the village, your father told you to stay away. It looked run down and abandoned. You started to come to the village whenever you could, to calm the villagers to the best of your ability. The strange thing was us that a few of them almost said that they recognized you, but you brushed it off. They soon warmed up to your presance, greeting you whenever you came around.

.You were helping with cleaning the house of an village elderly when you heard the television turn on by itself. You turned around to inspect it. "Hey Y/n. You there?" It was Karl's voice. "Karl?" You mumbled. "Yeah. Who else would it be?" You smiled "How are you doing that? You asked. "I'll show you later. You need to meet me at the factory." He stated.

.You nodded trying to figure out where the factory is. "I'll send a lycan to escort you." And with that the television turned off. You stared at it in amazement before getting ready to leave. "I have to go now, the other lords called for my assistance." You yelled out to the old lady upstairs before leaving. You had read very little about what lycans were, so you had no clue of what to expect.

.Once you arrived at the factory you were welcomed in by Karl, other lycans circled you like dogs meeting someone for the first time. "So why did you call me here?" You smiled at him

."Well I figured since we are officially partners i should show you what it is I'm planing." He smiled as you both linked arms to the factory. He smelt something different about you as you were near him, something sweet and comforting as you walked inside.

."Woah..." you breathed out as you looked around. He watched you marvel at his creations. "How did you make these?" You asked.

.He smirked as scrap metal started to levitate around you. Your jaw dropped lightly while smiling. The smaller bits of metal started to come together, twisting and changing form into a rose. "It's beautiful." You mumbled. "Your work is amazing!" He handed you the rose before turning around

."Not as beautiful as you." He murmured.

."So what's the big plan you wanted to discus." You asked. He cleared his throat and waved you over to follow him. You followed him through the factory to an area full of lycans. "I'm building an army. With our powers combined we'll be able to wipe her out! She has some sort of fear of your powers from what I can tell. Speaking of what are they?" Didn't she say your were gifted or something?"

.You nodded "My abilities have to do with my emotions. When I'm happy the people around me benefit from it in ways such as healing or feeling safe. I know I can choose when to use my powers but i don't know how to stop them if they get out of hand... she didn't say what would happen with my negative emotions. But that's why she fears me." He nodded following along, that's the explanation for the strange smells radiating from you earlier.

."Now its going to take a long time before I have enough members for ud to fight her but for now we wait until the time is right." You nodded.

.You both realized how late it was, the moon starting to rise in the distance. "Its too late for you to leave now, there's no telling what you'll find lurking around this late." He wanted you to stay with him, it would give him an excuse to get closer wth you.

."Stay." He whispered. "Its to late for you to go out on your own." He gently grabbed one of your hands and tuned you around to face him. "But...my father....." you looked back outside "No. I'll talk to him, I can make an excuse. We both no its too dangerous for you to go out this late." He lightly grazed your chin and turned your head to face him. "Please. For me?" That dam smile, it sent a shiver up your spine. You sighed "Okay, but he won't like whatever you say."

.You closed the door before following Karl. He brought you to his bedroom, it wasn't much. But neither was yours. "Did you make all of this? You examined the small room full of metal furniture. You sat on the bed next to Karl still looking around the room. "Yep. All by myself." He bragged a little. You laid down on the bed "Where am I sleeping tonight?" He gave you another smirk "With me. I don't have any other...comfortable places to possibly sleep." You didn't know what to say. Sure you've never slept with another person before but it wasn't anything weird. "Oh."

.You laid down and got under the covers still blushing. You felt strange for sleeping with Karl. But why? You also didn't know why it made you happy. You felt the bed dip down as he climbed in next to you. You sighed and tuned around catching him staring at you. You both stared at each other, his eyes looked stunning behind the glasses. Gorgeous gold and green colors. Why did he make you feel this way?.. "Karl...What am I feeling?" You asked snapping his attention to you "What do you mean?" You took a second to think.

."Why do you make me feel sick but at the same time wonderful? Like I want to push you away but stay with you at the same time." You held the rose he made you in your hands twirling it. He laughed at you, making you slightly embarrassed. "Oh kitten... you've never been in love before have you? Love... the word made you melt when he said it.

.He pulled your waist to his. Your body pressed next to his chest. He leaned in next to your ear "Do I have to spell it out for you?" He whispered into your ear. You didn't say anything as you listened to his heart beat getting quicker "You're in love kitten." You felt like you were going to explode.

"Then...what about you?.. Do you fell the same?" You were terrified, what if he was just playing you, using you as a tool to take down Miranda. "I can give you a list of how you make me feel sweet heart... for starters your breath taking and sweet, your smiles make me feel like I'm in heaven, and you're the only person to ever show me kindness." He chuckled "Don't make me repeat myself... You know I want you." You felt your heart beating your chest, he really felt all of those things about you. "Would you be willing to deal with my shenanigans? And help me, even if I'm at my worse?" He whispered to you. You smiled "Always. Partner." You answered.

.His eyes softened as he leaned in to your lips. Connecting the two of you together. You could smell the metal and cologne he wore ad you both deepened the kiss. The sound of both of your heartbeats was the only thing you could hear. His chapped lips touching yours, and his hands wrapping around your waste to bring you closer to him. You felt like you were in heaven.

.You both broke the kiss for air, breathing out heavily to catch your breath. "I don't know what i did to deserve you. But I'm glad you're here." He mumbled sleepily. You wrapped an arm around him as you hummed in agreement as you fell asleep.

#karl heisenberg #oneshot #karl heisenburg x reader #resident evil #fluff #x reader

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scarletwinterxx · 3 years

Text

that time i knew i liked you too

as always, I was melting everytime the dreamies release new content. Hyuck just looked so adorable I cannot handle it. So here’s another scenario with him😊🌻

for my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2020 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

“No no put me down, let me at him. Jeno, put me down” you said as you trash around Jeno’s shoulder. How you got there is a repeated story that always starts when you and Haechan are in the same room.

“No, you’re going to hurt someone”

“Yea, I’m going to hurt him. Let me down, stop using your strength on me” you pounded your palms against his back but he just continued walking further away from Renjun who was holding Haechan back from you

“Would it hurt the two of you to just admit you like each other?” you hear Jaemin ask from beside you “Want to get smacked too? for the last time I don’t like him”

Jeno finally put you back down on your feet, the two guys looking at you with a ‘we don’t believe you but we’ll pretend we do’ look

“I don’t!”

“Mhm, sure we’ll go with that” Jeno told you with a smile, his eyes disappearing completely while he does. This time instead of manhandling you, he just threw his arm casually around your shoulder but you know he’s trying to make sure you won’t run back to where Haechan was.

“There’s a very thin line between love and hate” Jaemin mumbled, you looked over at him with a glare making the boy shoot his hands up in surrender.

The chaotic relationship between you and Haechan started with friendly banters, he was a natural joker, the mood maker of the group. You on the other hand, is the exact opposite.

When you exchanged schools, only knowing your cousin Jeno, he was quick to introduce to his group of friends. Ofcourse they were very nice and welcoming, you were on the same year as the four of them: Renjun, Jeno, Jaemin and Haechan. Soon after that you became an honorary member of that group, girls and some guys would sometimes ask favors from you to set them up with the guys. This always made you wonder why, not really understanding the craze other people have over your friends. In your eyes they were pretty normal, at times weird most times too loud.

“Remember that time you threw a tantrum when someone asked you to give Haechan their valentine favor”

You scowled at the memory, last year during valentines one girl came up to you asking you to give Haechan her card and chocolates. You were too shy to say no, so after school was finished and you were all waiting in the parking lot, you all but practically shoved the box of chocolates to Haechan. The rest of the guys cheering but you cut them off by saying it wasn’t from you.

“I did not. I was just not having a great day that day”

“Sure, you should see the look on his face when you said it didn’t come from you” Jeno said making you look over at him “Why? How did he look?” you asked, your curiosity getting the best of you

“Wouldn’t you like to know” Jaemin teased you

It is true you both get on each other nerves, there’s one little thing that contradicts everything that just came out of your mouth though.

You do like Haechan, more than you will ever care to admit. You’d rather be dead than ever admit you like him. Because at the end of the day, even when you two want to rip each other’s head off, you always end up together somehow.

The next day you were waiting for Jeno to finish his last class since he picked you up this morning, sitting outside on one of the empty benches with book in hand. You were too emerged on your reading material that you didn’t notice the figure now sitting in front of you. Only when you turned the page and craned your neck to stretch it you did you notice the guy sitting across from you,

“What the fuck! How long have you been there?” You asked Haechan, holding your book against your chest. “Long enough to notice how bad your posture is” he answered

“Says the guy who can’t sit or stand straight” you mumbled, closing the book and tucking it away in your bag

“If I were you, I’d be nice to the guy who’ll be driving me home”

“I don’t see Jeno here” you said looking around you, your cousin nowhere in sight. “No stupid, he has basketball practice. He asked me to drive you home”

You just shot him a blank look, for a couple of seconds he just shot you the same look before standing up

“Have it your way, I can just leave you here” then started to walk towards the parking lot. Scowling at his retreating figure, you quickly threw your bag over your shoulder following Haechan’s steps.

He can already hear your hurried steps, a faint smile forming on his lips but he quickly shook it away. Acting nonchalant when you finally caught up with him,

“No, you won’t. Jeno will have your ass if leave me”

“No, he won’t”

“Oh yea my bad, you don’t have an ass” he looked over at you, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. Silently daring you to repeat what you just said, so just send him a big sarcastic smile

“Watch it, babe. Don’t bite what you can’t chew”

“I don’t even know what that means, but let’s just pretend I do for your sake” You pat him on the shoulder before walking ahead. For awhile, neither of you said anything. A random playlist was playing while Haechan hums along, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Hyuck”

Haechan looked quickly over at you, your attention was focused on the scenery outside. If he could, he would look at you a little bit longer but he didn’t to be too obvious and that would be dangerous. So he just hummed as an answer,

“huh?” you asked, looking over at him

“What?”

“What do you mean what?”

“You called my name?”

“Oh I was just thinking about it, I didn’t know I said it outloud” you mumbled, you really didn’t mean to say it outloud. You were just looking out the sunset, it reminded you of his nickname which then made you think of his name.

“You were thinking about me?” he chuckled

“I’d rather not comment on that” then it was silent again, thankful that he didn’t push it any further.

“Want to grab something to eat?” he asked, this made you look over at him “I heard there’s this new café in town” he added.

“Tell me the truth, can you read minds?” you asked him, you were just thinking about that too. You were planning to go later today after he dropped you off, maybe ask Jeno to come with after his practice but it makes more sense to just go now. You just didn’t expect Haechan to ask you

“Only yours” he said with a smirk, sending you quick side eye. You rolled your eyes at him, “Can we go though?” you asked

And that is how you find yourself at the new café with your frenemy and kind of crush, Lee Haechan. You happily entered the place, taking in the smell of coffee and cake in the air,

“Are you a dog? Stop sniffing” You hear Haechan say from behind you “Can’t help it, it smells so good. Oh my god is that chocolate cake” your attention was already on the rows of cake displayed. Completely missing the fond look on Haechan’s face as he watch you excitedly look at the snacks.

He won’t say it but he finds it so adorable how happy you get with just the little simple stuff.

“Do you want that? What do you want to drink?”

“Vanilla latte for me” you smiled up at him, for a second Haechan forgot how to breath forgot how to act around you. You were smiling so genuinely at him he wasn’t sure what to feel.

“How about you?”

“Will you eat all the cake again or will you actually share it this time?” he asked back, dismissing his previous thoughts before you notice anything weird happening.

“I don’t recall doing such thing”

“Mhm sure, sweetheart. I have three other guys as witnesses” you scowled at him before turning back to the cake

Haechan ordered your drinks and cake while you sat outside and wait for him, you offered to split the bill but he just pushed you towards the door when you tried to pay for your food. Like he literally pushed you out

“Wipe that pout off, here’s your cake” at the sound of his voice, you put your phone down and smiled up at him. Well more at the plate of food he was holding

“Have I told you you’re my favorite?” you teased him, making the boy chuckle at you. You were already diving into the snack, happily swaying one hand in the air.

“I’m starting to think you only like me when I give you food”

“You’re thinking right” you answered straight away to tease him, chuckling when you felt him lightly kick you under the table.

Later that day when you were finally home and was doing some homework, Jeno came over to check on you

“You made it home in one piece, that could only mean Haechan didn’t”

“Can’t say he will be missed” you replied, not even bothering to look up

“You will though” this made you glare up at your cousin, “Why are you here again?”

“Oh right, well me and the guys plus a couple of other friends are going out of town this weekend, want to come with us?”

“When, where and who?”

“The guys, girls on some of our classes and Mark hyung is coming too. We’re renting a house with a pool, it looks really cool and we’ll stay there from Saturday til Sunday afternoon maybe”

You contemplated whether you wanted to come or not, it did sound fun. Plus you feel like you do need the time off anyways.

“I thought you hated each other” Jaemin said, looking between you and Haechan who is sporting the same look of boredom and annoyance. It’s currently 4am, kind of freezing outside and the guys are still loading the car with stuff.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed” Renjun added, that earned a glare from Haechan and you.

“Who else are we waiting for?” You grumbled, you wanted to get in the car and get some more sleep. Almost regretting ever agreeing to come to this trip, you felt a tug on your jacket sleeve. Looking over at Haechan who was holding out his coffee to you, you just shook your head at him. You liked drinking coffee, but iced americano is not something you’d ever opt to order

“The girls are meeting us there, they said” Jeno answered you

“So who’s going in whose car?” Renjun asked, looking around the group

“Who’s driving again?” you asked, “Jeno and Haechan”

You looked over at the boy leaning beside you, “You’re driving? You look like you’re about to pass out”

“That’s why I’m drinking this”

“I’ll go wherever I can sleep for the duration of this trip” Jaemin said, already walking towards Jeno’s jeep getting in the passenger seat.

“How about you?” Jeno asked you, “I’m with Jaemin, I don’t really care as long as I can sleep some more”

“Backseat is still pretty spacious, make yourself comfortable” he said then opened the car door for you, doing exactly what your cousin just said.

“I thought you were going with Haechan” Jaemin said from the front seat, “Don’t start with me right now, let me sleep then you can bug me about him later”

The rest of the trip you were sleeping soundly at the backseat, the two boys talking amongst themselves. It was a four hour car ride so by the time you got to the vacation house it’s still too early for lunch.

“Who wants to go to the grocery with me?” Jaemin asked, Renjun saying he’ll come with and pulling Haechan along with him

Hours later when they got back and finished unloading all the food for the weekend, you were just lounging around. Some of the guys were by the pool while you were in the lounge area with Jaemin and Jisung when Jeno and Haechan showed up. You were happily snacking on some cookies you when Haechan spotted you, Jeno immediately noticing Haechan’s gaze on you and the cookies you were holding

“Please tell me you you’re not going to fight over cookies”

“Will that make you happy?” Haechan asked his friend to which Jeno nodded as an answer, “Too bad then, give me back my cookies” Haechan turned his attention back to you, reaching out to grab the bag of treats

“I don’t see your name written here, plus I was the one who told Jaemin to get it at the grocery store”

“I went with him to the grocery store”

“Should’ve bought your own cookies then”

“I did! Those are mine”

The two of you were too busy arguing to notice the other guys have left the room to join the others outside, leaving you and Haechan alone in the lounge area. You sat on the opposite sides of the big couch, just chilling when Haechan walked in demanding to give his cookies back

“I’ll give you five seconds to give it back”

“Oooh I’m so scared”

“5, 4, 3” just as you were about to take another cookie from the bag, you feel his hand clamp around your ankle then pulling you towards the other side of the couch where he was sitting.

Now your legs are draped on his lap while his arms rest on them, “You said 5!”

Haechan just glared at you before snatching the bag out of your hands and taking some cookies for himself

“Leave some for me” you said as you try to reach for the bag “No, you already ate half of it”.

You scowled at him until he gave the bag back to you, not even moving from your current position since you are pretty comfortable and the boy don’t seem to mind. Already busy scrolling through his phone,

“Why aren’t you downstairs with the guys? I heard the girls arrived too”

“Too tired”

“I heard Yeji came today”

“Mhm”

“You know she gave you those chocolates last year for valentines, right?”

“Like you would ever let me forget” he was still scrolling through his phone, one hand resting on top of your legs comfortably. If any of the boys walk in on you know they’d probably shoot you weird looks but when it’s just the two of you, you don’t really fight like cats and dogs.

“Don’t you like, like her back atleast?”

“Why?”

“I mean she said she liked you, don’t you think it’s a bit mean to not talk to her after that. Plus,. I think she came so she could spend some time with you and yet here you are hiding away”

“Well maybe I like spending time with you”

You looked at him like he told you the most ridiculous and confusing fact, Haechan looking over at you when you didn’t reply back to him

“What’s that look for?”

“Who are you and what have you done to Haechan?” You asked, leaning over to put a hand over his forehead. He just chuckled at you, swatting your hand away

“I just got the chills when you said that”

“Like the good kind of chills?” he teased, “No, the kind that’s making me want to throw up kind of chills” you sarcastically replied

He scowled at you, pushing your legs off of him before standing up. “You know, it’s not that hard to just admit it”

“Admit what?”

“That you actually like hanging out with me”

“I never said I didn’t, even if you get on my last nerves”

“I like keeping you on your toes, baby. I’ll be outside if you miss me” he winked at you then walked out the lounge area.

What just happened? Was he flirting with you? Did he know? You thought to yourself.

And boy does he love getting on your last nerve. You will never assume that he’s doing thing on purpose just to piss you off, but after your conversation with him he’s been talking more to Yeji the whole day.

He’s naturally friendly and affectionate, no one can argue that. And it’s not like you have a right to be jealous, your pride is too high to admit Jaemin’s actually right.

You do like Haechan.

So what do you do? you mope around without meaning to, the boiys noticing your change in mood throughout the night.

You were just standing beside Jaemin as he grill the meat for dinner, not really saying much

“You’re going to burn holes to the ground if you keep staring at it like that” Jaemin said as he look over at your brooding figure

“Let me be, I don’t any place else to be”

“Uh how about hanging out with our friends”

“Your friends” you mumbled making Jaemin laugh at you, “Oh my god, I cannot with you. If it bother’s you this much, just admit it already. It will save us both the time and emotional stress”

“Hiw are you getting stressed, I’m literally not even saying anything here” you told him, lightly hitting him on the back.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the garden area, Haechan was watching you and Jaemin. Not in a creepy way though. He just happen to notice you’ve been missing, only to find you standing by the grill with his bestfriend

“Yah Jeno, is there something going on with Y/N and Jaemin?” Haechan can’t help but ask when Jaemin laughed at something you just said

“Huh?”

“I mean they always hang out”

“Yea, well they’re friends” Jeno shrugged, “We’re friends too” Haechan grumbled, taking a big gulp of the drink Jeno just put on the table

“Are you perhaps jealous of the two?” Jeno asked, “Absolutely not, I was just asking”

“Well, don’t tell Jaemin I told you this but I think he’s going to ask her out this weekend” that was a complete and total lie, he only said that to push Haechan to finally do something. And judging by the way he’s now practically glaring over your make makes Jeno think he did the right thing.

“I heard you even went out on a date with him” Jaemin said, making you look at him with confusion

“Huh? When?” “The other day when he had an emergency practice”

“We just went to the cafe, it wasn’t a date”

“Right, right. Because that’s how you spend time with a person you don’t like”

“I don’t don’t like him”

“So you like him?”

“If i say yes will you stop?”

“I-” “Say yes to what?” Someone said from behind you, making Jaemin stop his sentence.

Haechan looked back and forth between you and Jaemin, while Jeno looked like he was about to laugh.

“Nothing” you answered quickly before Jaemin could utter another word, then skipped away to where the others were. Jeno was shooting his bestfriend with the ‘just go with it’ expression before Haechan catches on

“What was that about?” Haechan asked, “Oh I was just asking her something” Jaemin answered with a cheeky smile

He couldn’t have asked her already, right? Haechan thought. As the night went on, he can’t help but notice how you were obviously avoiding him. You looked like you were enjoying yourself when the guys invited you to play beerpong with them while this time he’s the one moping around.

When you went inside to get something from the kitchen, Haechan immediately shoot up from his seat to follow you. Itching to ask you if Jaemin asked you out or not.

“You think he’ll ask her out?” Jeno asked as he watch Haechan follow you, “Huh? Haechan? Why what did you tell him?” Jaemin asked back

“That you were going to ask Y/N out”

“Bro what the fuck, he’s going to kill me if I do”

You on the other hand had no idea about this, so when Haechan cornered you in the kitchen suffice to say you were pretty shocked,

“Did you say yes to Jaemin?” he asked

“Say yes to what?”

“Didn’t he ask you out?”

“Huh?” you asked confused, Jaemin definitely did not ask you out. You know for a fact that he’s currently crushing on the new girl, Yoo Jimin.

“No?”

“Are you not sure or you just don’t want to tell me”

“I’m so confused, one why would Jaemin ask me out and two why would I not want to tell you?” You asked, geniunely confused with him. “Because”

“Because?” you urged for him to continue

“God! You’re really going to make me say it first will you?” he sounded so frustrated you almost laughed, “I don’t know what you want to say Haechan, but please go ahead because like I said I’m very confused right now”

It took him approximately five seconds to think about his next actions, he counted up to three in his head before saying screw it then the next thing he know he was grabbing you by the waist, his lips on yours.

You definitely did not expect that this is how your weekend will turn out, and you most definitely not think you would end up kissing Haechan. But here you were, trapped between the counter and him. His arms secured around your frame while your hands were resting on his arms.

It’s like your mind and body were to separate entities, not one part of a single body because in your mind you were freaking out but your body was acting like this was how it was supposed to be all along.

When the two of you eventually had to come up for air, you can’t help but stare at him

“What was that?” you whispered, his forehead resting on yours

“Me shooting my shot”

Then you were laughing, Haechan looked at you like you just lost your mind

“You know this is the part where you say it worked”

“I- wait hold up. You like me?” you asked him, “You liked me first!” he screeched, pointing a finger at himself

“Says who?”

“Says your cousin, then Jaemin and Renjun. Then you” You made a mental note to hit those three guys later

“Me? Just the other day I almost punched you in the face. If that was your indication of me liking you then you’re really messed up in the head”

“So you’re saying you don’t like me?” he asked, this time with a more serious look on his face.

“I could neither confirm nor deny” you answered, trying to rile him up even more. You already know the answer, but it was nice to see Haechan like this.

“You know in my head, this wasn’t how I imagined this moment would turn out”

“Oh so you imagined kissing me” he smirked you, “As much you imagined kissing me” you retorted back, you had him there.

“And?”

“A bit underwhelming, not gonna lie”

That made Haechan do the thing you think is so attractive but never told a single soul because it was your secret, it’s when he pokes the inside of his cheeks with his tongue whenever he’s annoyed or things don’t go his way.

“Are you saying I’m not a good kisser?”

“I’m saying it could be better” you shrugged, enjoying your new found power over him. It was short lived though because the next thing you know you were thrown over his shoulder then he was walking back out the patio.

“Yah, Haechan don’t hurt her. I need to bring her back in one piece” you hear Jeno say

“Sure, but it’s fine if she’s a bit wet right?”

“What?” you screamed then you were thrown in the pool, quickly resurfacing to the surface to see Haechan smirking at you. Instead of saying anything you just swam towards the ledge, hoisting yourself out the pool.

“You look like you need a hug” you shot him a wicked smile as you walk towards him, you can hear cheers and laughter coming from your friends

“No thank you, baby. Maybe later”

“Come here”

“Don’t want to”

“No more kisses for you. 3 2″ then you were back in the pool again but this time Haechan was in there with you. Laughing as you watch him shake his hair out of his face,

“Stop laughing you look like a wet dog” he said as he swam towards you, arms snaking your waist once again. As his lips close on your once again, you can’t help but smile. You’re pretty sure you heard your friends scream but all of that was background noise, it’s just you and him now.

“How about that? Am I a good kisser now?”

“I don’t know, maybe try again”

229 notes · View notes

stylesharrys · 4 years

Text

Home to Me

A/N: this was originally a patron-exclusive piece but you guys get it now! This is pretty angsty and was originally like a blurb request, but it’s fairly lengthy and I kinda love it with my whole heart?? anyway, enjoy!

WC: 4,593

Y/N sniffles again and takes a shaky inhale of breath. “I uh… I’m being discharged,” she tells him through a choked sob. There’s a silence between them and Harry’s torn. He’s about to see his baby girl again but on what grounds? What happened?

He swallows dryly. Harry’s sitting up in bed, scratching at the back of his neck and his eyes are pinched closed. He’s trying to stop his heart from hammering as he finds the words to say.

“Okay… okay, tha’s okay… wha’ happened?” He coos.

Y/N’s a nurse in the army and Harry just wants her back home with him.

More than anything, there’s the overwhelming fear that catapults through his body whenever he hears a tapping at his front door. More than anything, it’s the soul-consuming, nauseating rush that washes over him in tidal waves whenever his phone rings.

Harry’s a mess, he always is when she’s drafted back out to another foreign country where he can’t protect her. He’s sick every morning when he wakes up and every night as he tries to settle to sleep. Her lack of presence makes him ill and he hates not knowing what’s going on.

He’s on edge all the time, distraught and anxious. Every time before she leaves, he promises he’ll be okay — that he won’t worry so much, that he won’t make himself ill. They’re all lies.

Y/N left for an undisclosed location two weeks ago and Harry’s reaping the consequences. He hasn’t slept more than an hour every night and his loss of appetite came days before she flew out. It’s selfish, he knows it is. Selfish for begging her not to go, to think of him, of her family. He hates himself for it, but he loves her too much to potentially lose her.

He stays though, he waits for her. He spends his time writing songs and visiting her family. He spends his sleepless nights re-reading old texts and letters she’s sent him while she’s drafted. Harry is proud and he’ll scream it from the rooftops, but he’s scared and anxious, and he wants her home with him.

They argued two days before she felt out. He made her feel guilty, made her rethink her career and what it means for them. The conversation of starting a real family together had arisen, of having children and moving out of the luxurious apartment and getting themselves a five-bed home closer to Holmes Chapel.

Then Harry had said those bitter words that had her ignoring him for hours. “Bit selfish to want a baby but won’t do anything now to stop putting your life at risk.” He grovelled after her for six hours; apologising and taking back what he said. He knew she was angry, knew she had every right to be, but he meant what he said and she knows it.

In the two weeks she’s been gone, he’s had complete radio silence. By now, he’d have received his first letter, one that reassured him she’s okay, that misses out the scary world she’s working in. He would’ve received another little Polaroid photo attached of her in her uniform, of a couple of her friends she’s made in the nurses' tents.

But he’s received nothing and maybe that’s why his fear and anxiety is so heightened this time around. He’s tried convincing her plenty of times that she can do the same job in the safety of London. That she could get any position in any hospital where she would still be helping people but be safe while doing so.

And she’s always argued otherwise. Argued that she wouldn’t get the rush she gets when she’s on the field. That she wouldn’t be saving and helping her country like she does when she’s shipped off with the soldiers. And Harry fucking hates it.

He hates it because it only takes one stray bullet, one big missile. It only takes one thing to take her life and he can’t stomach the thought of it. He’s left with a permanent bitter taste in his mouth when she’s gone and no matter what he does, he can’t stop himself from thinking the worst.

He puts on a brave face for her family and his. Anne and Gemma are lounging on the sofa beside him, Y/N’s parents Cathy and Robert sitting on the smaller couch opposite them. There’s an old rerun of Friends on the TV and they’ve all got a cup of tea in their hands, having just finished a gorgeous lunch Anne had prepared.

They do this a lot when Y/N’s dispatched. Being together gives them a bigger sense of being close to Y/N and sometimes it’s quite nice to worry together, rather than alone. Because Robert and Cathy have each other when the sun goes down. Gemma and Anne have each other when the stars start to shine. But when darkness comes and consumes him whole, Harry has nobody.

“Was this one a three month or six-month mission?” Robert asks after a brief sip of his tea. Cathy sighs as she snuggles into his side. He’s always tried to forget the details of his little girls time away. He doesn’t want to allow his mind to count down the days, to come to terms with what she’s doing.

He’s proud, they all are, but she’s still his little girl and he wants to hold and protect her. “Three months... could be extended, though,” Harry answers, voice lacking its usual light-hearted nature. Anne reaches across for her son, hand on his shoulder as she squeezes reassuringly.

She’s always begged for him to come back to Holmes Chapel while Y/N’s away, but he won’t. He can’t. He tells them he needs to stay home to feel close to her and while that’s true, he doesn’t tell them the main reason. He needs to stay home in case informants come knocking with the news that she won’t be coming home again.

Cathy hums, nodding her head. Tears are welling in her soft brown eyes and Harry feels her pain. They’ve spent countless evenings whimpering in each other’s arms. They all hate feeling this way but they do it for Y/N. They do it because they’re proud and she loves her job. She’s wanted this since she was old enough to understand what an army nurse was.

No one knows why this time is hitting them harder than the rest. It’s no different in what’s happening and what she’s doing, but there’s something off between the five of them. Something is wrong with the situation. It’s not necessarily a bad feeling, more one of uneasiness and uncertainty. Of what, they’re not sure.

“I don’t know how you do it, Harry.” Robert is rubbing Cathy’s arm when he speaks and Harry frowns a little, looking to his lovers' father. “I’m losing my mind my little girl being out there... don’t know how I’d cope if it was the love of my life.” There’s something a little sour in how he says it, suggesting that he doesn’t love Y/N as much as he loves Cathy, but Harry says nothing. He knows Robert loves his daughter more than anything.

Harry nods, gnawing on his inner cheek. “I’m not,” he admits. “I’m not coping.”

-----

It’s two in the morning. He’s wide awake, awoken abruptly from a twenty-minute nap of watching his love lose her life. He’s thrown up twice in the thirty minutes he’s been awake, showered and changed the sweat-soaked sheets.

He’s only just stopped crying, body aching and eyes stinging. He feels like he can’t do this anymore like everything is hurting way too much and he just doesn’t know what to do.

He contemplates phoning his mum, maybe even watching a few old videos he has of Y/N on his phone, just to hear her voice. But he thinks that might make him feel worse. His phone is pinched between his fingers as he lays spread on his back on the mattress. He’s kicked off the duvet and he’s in only a pair of boxers.

Deciding to hurt his heart, even more, he unlocks his phone and scrolls through his camera roll. He’s about to click on a video, taking a deep breath to prepare for her face but his phone cuts off and an Unknown Caller is plastered across his screen.

Harry feels his stomach drop, feels himself grow dizzy and faint. He isn’t silly. He knows she’s the only one to contact him on a blocked number. It’s the only way she can verbally contact him while she’s away. He answers the call with a trembling thumb, bringing the phone to his ear.

It’s silent, a little static on the other end and then he hears it. “Harry?” His shoulders sag in relief at the sound of the familiar voice. He’s holding onto her tone; her shaky and unsteady voice as she calls out his name quietly.

His stomach flips. “Love? Baby, ‘s tha’ you?” He doesn’t know why he asks for confirmation, he knows her voice from miles away. He doesn’t see her nod on the other end of the line but he’s sure she’s doing it anyway. “It’s me. I’m here, baby,” she whispers down the phone and tears spring to his eyes.

He can’t stop crying. His heart is crumbling to the pit of his stomach and he just wants his baby back home with him. “Fuck, Y/N. Wha’s going on? You never call this soon when you’re away,” he rambles. It’s true, and maybe hearing her voice is giving him more anxiety.

They’re not allowed to make personal calls very often. It’s something the army have become very strict upon. For soldiers, they’re allowed their video call home once a week. For nurses, they’re allowed their phone call home once a month, if they’re lucky.

She’s only been gone two weeks, something doesn’t sit right with Harry.

He hears her sniffle again and he feels sick. Is she hurt? Is she not coming home? Is this going to be the last time they ever hear each other’s voices? No, no, no. Harry shakes his head and grips the phone tighter. Fuck, he needs to hold her.

“Baby?” He coos softly.

Y/N sniffles again and takes a shaky inhale of breath. “I uh... I’m being discharged,” she tells him through a choked sob. There’s a silence between them and Harry’s torn. He’s about to see his baby girl again but on what grounds? What happened?

He swallows dryly. Harry’s sitting up in bed, scratching at the back of his neck and his eyes are pinched closed. He’s trying to stop his heart from hammering as he finds the words to say. “Okay... okay, tha’s okay... wha’ happened?” He coos.

He knows his girl, he knows how much she loves what she does. He knows she’s no doubt beating herself up about being discharged, but he needs to know why. Was she involved in misconduct? Was she injured? What happened?

She clears her throat and he hears shuffling on her end again. “My flight lands in about 9 hours... will you be okay to pick me up from the airport?” His eyes snap open, bulging wide. She’s coming home today? He’s blubbering like a fish out of water, like everything is happening all at once and he feels like maybe his inward prayers of her coming home have been answered by the gods above.

He feels guilty, like he’s coaxed the universe to put this upon her.

“Wha’... ‘course, baby.” He promises. “Fuck, are you alrigh’? Are ya hurt? Babe, you’ve gotta tell me somethin’,” he begs, voice strained. He doesn’t know that she’s sitting in the airport, sobbing silently into her hand. He doesn’t know that she’s completely broken and aching.

She takes a deep breath to compose herself, doesn’t want him to worry more than she’s already been forcing him to. “I’m okay, I promise,” she sobs. Harry’s heart shatters at the sound, gripping the sheets in tight fits. He just wants her in his arms.

“Listen, don’t tell Mum and Dad I’ve been discharged, please? I just want to come home to you before everyone knows I’m back. We need to talk, H. You were right. It is selfish, and I can’t be selfish anymore.”

He stops breathing for a hot second, heart skipping multiple beats as he tries to grasp what she’s saying. “Y/N, wha’ are ya saying, love. Ye’r scaring me,” he mutters out as she bites back horrifying sobs.

“Don’t be scared, it’s all gonna be okay. I’ll see you at the airport, yeah? I love you, H.”

He sniffles, nodding to himself. “I love you more, baby. I’ll see you soon.”

Harry struggles to sleep when the call ends. He has nine hours to kill but he can’t think of doing anything other than panicking and crying. She wouldn’t tell him why she was discharged over the phone and Harry still can’t help but think the worst.

What if her leaving the army is the worst thing for her in the long run? What if she ends up hating Harry because he was right. What do they need to talk about? Why does he feel so sick?

He spends the next nine hours pacing around the house. He manages to run to the store at 7 am to stock up the fridge and cupboards. He knows the shitty survival food she has to eat and that she usually appreciates nothing more than a nice home-cooked meal. This will be the first time she’s coming straight home to just him. Whenever past missions have been over and she’s come home, they’ve always met at her parents' house, always had a family gathering with food and drinks and music.

This time it will be just Y/N and Harry and whatever food they desire when she gets home. During his drive to the airport, he can’t help but replay her words in his mind. He can’t help but think the worst when he remembers that she didn’t want her family knowing she’s back. He doesn’t understand it and he needs her to explain everything.

It takes Harry twenty minutes to hype himself up enough to get out of the car. As eager as he is to see his love again, he doesn’t think he has the guts to face her if she decides to choose her career over him and call their relationship off. He doesn’t think he has the guts to face her if she’s limping and battered and bruised.

He sucks it up, reminding himself that Y/N is the one that’s been putting her life at risk to save others, that Y/N is the one that is affected more by her discharge than he is.

He finds her terminal fairly quickly. It’s in a somewhat restricted area and Harry can’t help but wonder if other nurses or soldiers will walk out with her, or if she’ll be all alone.

It comes through across the tannoy that her plane is landing, and out of the window, he sees a small jet that she’s tucked away in. He sucks in a breath and hangs back, hands clammy as he clasps the bunch of flowers tight in his hands.

He’s never picked her up from the airport before and he’s getting anxious. The last thing he wants is someone noticing him and flooding their reunion across the internet.

He’s waiting for no more than five minutes before he sees the terminal door open to the connection to the plane and his love is walking out and toward him. She isn’t dressed in her uniform, she’s got on a pair leggings and one of Harry’s worn shirts that hangs just below her ass.

She isn’t limping from what Harry can see and despite the look of sheer exhaustion and hopelessness, she doesn’t look bad at all.

Her eyes are teary when she meets Harry’s gaze and he sees her bottom lip quiver. Y/N’s shuffling closer to his open arms, dragging her case along with her and she leaves it by the side as she crashes into her chest.

She’s sobbing into his hold, arms tight around his middle as he coddles her closer. “I missed you, missed you so much,” she hiccups into his shirt and he can barely make sense of what she’s saying. He coos her softly, smoothing down matted hair and kissing the top of her head.

As much as he’s basking in holding her close and feeling her touch again, he’s too aware of the possible prying eyes that could be intruding on such a private moment. He pulls away from her, one hand holding the flowers and his free hand reaches down to wipe her tears.

She offers a smile through the despair and they both know they can’t share more than a hug until they’re alone. She understands that. Y/N takes the flowers from his hands and tucks herself into his side. Harry drags the case for her, an arm around her shoulder as they make their way through the exists and to the car.

She doesn't want to let go of him when he opens the passenger door, but she does, tentatively, and lets him shove her luggage in the boot before rounding down to the drivers' side. The second he sits in his seat and starts up the engine, Y/N can't take anymore.

She knows she's gone months without seeing him, but knowing what she knows with her discharge, she's missed him more than she ever thought possible. Her hand is quick to find his and she interlaces their fingers, leaning closer just as he turns his head to smother her lips across his.

It's soft yet messy, full of all the love and adoration they share. Harry’s hand leaves the wheel and cups the side of her face. His brows are furrowed as he kisses her harder, lips puckered and tongue softly licking across her bottom lip to get some sort of proper taste of her.

Y/N pulls away first, pecking his lips again and when his eyes flutter open, she's nearly crying. She settles back in her seat, Harry's hand resting heavily on her thigh, so Y/N takes it upon herself to change gears for him as he reverses out of his spot and makes his way back to their home.

The drive to the apartment is silent. Y/N sniffles from time to time but she keeps her focus out of her window and her hand resting on top of Harry's that still sits on her thigh. Harry keeps his gaze flickering from the road to the side of her face. He's on edge, so fucking desperate to know what's going on.

In the four years they've been together, Harry has never seen or heard her so distant yet so hysteric. She's completely off in herself and he's starting to understand why she didn't want her family around when she got home. Maybe when they get home, she's going to end it all.

Harry's broken into an uncomfortable sweat by the time they get home. She waits for him as he gets her bag from the car and they walk together in silence up to their flat. Their hands stay tucked together, only pulling apart for Harry to unlock the front door and usher her inside.

It's awkward as they stand there when the door closes. Harry isn't sure he wants to pressure her to tell him and Y/N isn't sure where she should begin about it all. She feels safe, though. Comfortable in her home once again and she notices just how obvious it is that Harry cleaned before he picked her up. He never usually fluffs the pillows.

She's toying nervously with her own fingers as she approaches the sofa, settling herself down and biting back the sigh of relief at the softness. Harry regards her for a moment, rolling her suitcase into the living room and standing idly a little opposite from her but the way his lanky frame casts a shadow in the late morning light that shines through the window, causes a little more anxiety to the young woman.

"Can uh, can you sit down for a sec," she stutters out, gnawing on her bottom lip. Harry nods and sits beside her, his knees bumping hers. She's trying to calm her breathing, trying to remind herself that this is Harry and that they'll be alright.

"Babe," he coos, hand cupping over hers to stop the nervous jitters. "Ya can tell me anything'."

Y/N nods her head and wipes her clammy hands over her legs. "I know, I know... I just don't want you to be angry with me," she admits, daring to look up at him. Harry's brows are pinched and there are worry lines creasing in his forehead. He shakes his head and shuffles closer to her.

"Not gonna be mad at ya, love. Whatever's happened, we'll get through it together, yeah? We're a team, you 'n me." He goads, voice as light as he can make it under the unknowing circumstances and she nods, teeth clenched as she tries to get a grip.

"They didn't pick it up on my health checks two weeks before I got shipped out," she starts, voice shaking and Harry nods slowly, holding his breath. Pick what up? "But I got feeling really uneasy and icky and faint when one of the soldiers came into the tent with his leg hanging off -- and you know me, Harry, I don't get giddy or squeamish over that shit, but I fainted --"

"You fainted?!" He blurts. He's worried now, heart racing. "Wha' the fuck is going on, Y/N. Ya need t' tell me."

She chokes out a frantic sob, face distorted in worry and anxiety and she reaches for his hands quickly. "I didn't know before I got shipped out, I swear, H. I never would have let them put my name in again if I knew, please, believe me, I swear it." She begs, cheeks stained with tears but Harry can't wrap his head around what she's saying.

He's crying, too. Her knuckles have turned colour from her grip on his hands but he can't feel the crushing pain of her hold. "Know wha'? Wha' is it, Y/N? Is it -- are you sick? Is it--"

"I'm not sick," she shakes her head quickly. Her shoulders have sunk, chest heaving softly as she calms herself for her next words. Her bottom lip quivers as another tear slips down her hot face and she cups his warm and damp cheeks in the palms of her trembling hands, shuffling closer.

"H... I'm pregnant."

Everything is white noise as Harry stares at her lips -- the same lips that uttered the most life-changing words to him. I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant. His mouth blubbers open and closed helplessly before he breathes again.

"Y'er pregnant?" His tone is soft and gentle, could barely be considered anything above a whisper and Y/N nods her head again with another sniffle. "Nine weeks along... that's why they sent me home," she admits and Harry finally looks at her and his world comes crashing down.

All he can see is the guilt and self-hatred in her eyes and he knows exactly what she's thinking. "I didn't know, Harry. I swear, I didn't know." He shakes his head and pulls her into his lap. "I know, pet... y'er alright'." He coddles her to his chest, kissing at her temple as she sobs into his shirt.

He's at loss for words, can't wrap his fucking head around what's going on. He's going to be a dad. She pulls away as quickly as he pulled her into him and she wipes her tears, desperate to compose herself.

"You were right. I'm selfish for what I do when I knew we wanted to start a family. I'm selfish because I should have taken a test before I left, but I didn't and I put our baby in danger." She's rambling desperately and Harry lunges for her, cupping her face in his huge palms and cooing her to a state of calmness.

"Stop, right now." His voice is stern, firm and even but she listens. "You didn't know, love. Ya can't blame y'self fo' somethin' you didn't even know about. You're home and ya safe. And so is our baby," he reassures her, words slowly drawled out.

She nods in his hold, lips swollen from the insistent crying but the realisation of the entire situation quickly dawns on them. "Our baby," he repeats. "We're having a fuckin' baby!" He's buzzing, grinning wide and so is Y/N.

Waves of relief crash over them and the happiness is quick to take over any worry or anger and they're ecstatic. "You're gonna be a dad," Y/N notes, nose bumping his and he grins against her mouth, slotting his lips with hers and he hums. "And y'er gonna be a mum," he retorts between kisses.

They're smiling too much to actually have their lips pressed to the others. It’s a mess of clashing teeth and warm breath but fuck if it isn't the most special kiss they've ever shared.

Y/N pulls away just enough to see his face. He's smooth, something she's only just realised and he must've shaved as well as cleaned before he got her. She brushes his growing hair out of his face and tucks a lock behind his ear. "I'm not going back," she tells him.

Y/N is quick to notice the hesitation in his eyes but before he can say anything, to say he's sorry for influencing her decision, to say they should talk about this after the baby is born, she cuts him off.

"Even once we have the baby, I can't be going off again for months at a time and putting myself in that danger. You're gonna have tours and I know you said you'd take a break when the time comes that we have a baby, but I still can't go back out there. You and our little bub are the most important things to me. I'll get a job at a hospital nearby, but I'm never going back out there. I know that now.”

They're both in tears as Harry nods his head. One hand rests on her neck and the other on the subtle swell of her lower abdomen. Even through the salty tears, they're beaming at one another with excitement for their future together.

"I love you, so fucking much."

Y/N laughs tearily, leaning forward to plant a wet kiss to her lover's lips. "I love you, too. So, so much, H." He kisses her lips again through a smile and wipes away at her damp cheeks.

Harry encourages Y/N to lay back on the sofa and he shimmies between her parted thighs, the way he usually would if he was going to spend the night down there. Only, this time, he lifts her shirt and his cool hands cradle her tummy, nosing at the soft and podgy skin as he peppers gentle kisses.

"And I love you, ya little angel. Ya gonna be so loved and cared for, you'll be sick of me 'n y'er mum." A laugh echoes from Y/N's lips and he grins at the sound, crawling back up her body to kiss her lips gently, really getting a taste of her. "D'ya wanna call everyone over t'share the news?" he asks against her lips, brushing back stray hairs from her forehead.

She mulls it over in her head for a moment. She wants this moment with Harry, to bask in his company and feel his touch on her skin again. She wants him to know that she's serious about her decision, that it will always be him and they're baby before anything else.

She shakes her head. "Not yet, I'm happy with just us three."

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #imagine harry styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic

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meher-sumedha · 3 years

Text

Gwynriel : She breaks up with one of us, she breaks up with all of us.

Over the last 3 months, Gwyn had grown very close with Elain. They even considered each other sisters. Elain had even started coming to training, but she had backed out after a week, for being a valkyrie, was not for her.

Elain and Azriel had also grown closer to each other. Even though, they had been dating since 3 months only, the had had sex. All thanks to the great Gwyneth Berdara, who had practically begged Rhysand to let them date each other.

Gwyn had promised Azriel that she would find out a way for him and Elain to date, she did. But, they still had to follow rhys' condition, that they could not date each other exclusively.

Elain still had to go to the day court to spend at least 3 days with Lucien, they had become good friends now, or as Rhysand thought.

Elain was, well, she had started to grow a liking for Lucien. She noticed that even though he was shy in front of the inner circle, he just wouldn't shut up in front of her. Elain knew there was some kind of relationship between Helion and Lucien, as they often went to the day court, but she didn't press on the matter. She was impressed about the amount of sarcastic jokes Lucien could make.

He told her his idol was "Chandler Bing", one of the characters from a human sitcom. He said he was the king of sarcasm, and after watching 10 seasons of the show, Elain too realized that. Every time Elain visited him, they watched at least one episode from the sitcom. And if they really really liked the episode, they would re watch it and would enact as characters. Elain had a lot of fun, especially as she could be herself around him.

She didn't have to pretend to like anything, and didn't have to do anything to impress him. Sometimes she would catch him staring at her during the sitcom, she never said anything, not until today :

"You're staring" She said, trying to stop the smile tugging at her lips, her eyes still on the television. Yet, from the corner of her eye she could see Lucien's cheeks had become the colour of his hair.

"Am not" He said, his voice sounding a little shy, which led to Elain chuckling a bit and looking at him, only to find he was still staring at her. They were currently watching the episode, "The one with the proposal" and both Chandler and Monica were on their knees.

Elain didn't back down from his stare, she kept looking at him. But she couldn't help glancing at his lips once or twice. They were sitting extremely close today for some reason.

And if they moved a bit closer, their lips would touch. Lucien was too staring at her lips now, and Monica was happy crying. Gods! He was looking good today. Elain knew she shouldn't do anything, that she was still in a relationship with Azriel, but she couldn't help but lean in slowly, and touch his lips with hers.

Elain started kissing him, but he didn't move, he didn't kiss her back, and just when she was gonna give up and move back, his hand strangled her hair and tilted her head in a way so that he could kiss her in a better manner.

Fireworks started exploding everywhere, Elain had never felt such a thing while kissing anyone, not even Azriel.

And that one kiss, had led to another and another and something else.

(Gwynriel starts from here)

And now, Elain was on her way to break up with Azriel. She'd been seeing Lucien since a month now, which meant only three days. But in those three days, she had never been happier, and she wanted nothing more, than to spend time with her mate.

With Azriel it had always been about him, what he liked. And Gwyn would always be the one to tell her that. What kind of flowers, instruments, sleeping positions, and whatnot Azriel liked. But Elain didn't find it creepy, as she knew Azriel and Gwyn were best friends.

But she always had the pressure of being with Azriel, it was like she was a puppet who had to do exactly as told. Now, she had had enough, and was gonna tell him, that she wants to break up.

Well not before telling Gwyn. Elain and Gwyn were sitting in the House of Wind's library. They were reading a book, Elain opened her mouth to speak a few times but then shut it.

Until she finally gathered the courage to speak, "I need to tell you something", "Okay" Gwyn replied, not looking up from her book. "I need you to be quiet about it", Gwyn looked at Elain and said, "When am I not?"

"Literally never" Elain said and Gwyn rolled her eyes. Elain continued, "I wanna break up with Azriel", "WHAT", "WAY TO BE QUIET" Elain shouted back and Gwyn took a long breath.

"Why do you wanna break up with Az?" Asked Gwyn after calming herself down. After Elain kept quiet for a few minutes, Gwyn finally understood, "oh, Oh, OH! YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH LUCIEN", "I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH LUCIEN", "THEN WHY DO YOU WANNA BREAK UP WITH AZ".

"BECAUSE I CAN'T-I CAN'T BE MYSELF AROUND HIM!." Gwyn opened her mouth but Elain continued, "ALL THE TIME GWYN, ALL THE FUCKING TIME! YOU'RE TELLING ME WHAT TO DO, WHAT HIS FAVOURITE THINGS ARE, WHAT HE LIKES TO DO! WELL I CAN'T DO ALL THAT, I CAN ONLY BE MY SHITTY SELF AROUND LUCIEN AND NOT AZ CAUSE I'VE GOT SO MUCH PRESSURE! FROM YOU, FROM NESTA, FROM RHYS AND WHAT NOT. IT'S-it's too much for me Gwyn, I-I'm sorry".

And then Elain left, leaving Gwyn with guilt of being a bad friend. Gwyn was upset, and when she thought she couldn't be more upset, she sensed the shadowsinger around her.

Azriel paced to his room, knowing that Gwyn was following him, he still slammed the door shut, and the tears he'd been fighting finally came loose.

Even though he slammed the door in her face, Gwyn still came in his room after a few minutes. He was sitting on the floor, with his back resting on the side of the bed.

Gwyn didn't know what to do, so she just sat on the floor, beside him. They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Gwyn noticed there was something in his hand that was resting on the floor. She took his hands, and opened its fist, only to see a ring box.

Gwyn gaped at the box and Azriel let out a dark chuckle, his sobs had stopped now. "You were going, to propose?" And Azriel chuckled once again, but that chuckle was muffled by a sob.

Gwyn didn't know how to react, "YOU'VE BEEN DATING FOR THREE MONTHS" Gwyn shouted at him, clearly angry and surprised by his stupidity. Azriel didn't say anything. He just brought the ring box closer to his chest, and opened it.

That ring. Gwyn could have sworn all the diamonds of the world were present in that ring. Azriel just took the ring out of the ring box, and looked at it, a sad smile on his face.

Gwyn just stared at the ring, not able to form any words. And then Azriel asked, "Do you think she would've liked it?" and offered it to Gwyn to look at. Gwyn was silent for a while and then said, "No" and Azriel chuckled.

"Why not?" He tried to be amusing, but his voice still broke. And then Gwyn looked at him with an emotion in her eyes, that even Azriel could not recognize, "Because if she loved you, she would never want such an expensive ring. She would want you to save money for your future with her instead".

And then Azriel smiled, a genuine smile, but a sad one. And then he said, "It was good while it lasted" while not breaking his eye contact with Gwyn, and then Gwyn repeated, "It was good while it lasted".

And then ice creams appeared at both their sides and they both chuckled, Gwyn opened hers and it was Belgium Chocolate. And Azriel opened his and it was Dark chocolate. The house also provided them with brownies to eat.

They both chuckled and sat there the entire night, stealing bites from each other's ice cream. And contemplating whose heart ache was worse :

"Well I lost a future wife" Azriel said and stole a bite of Gwyn's ice cream and mixed with his own. Gwyn tried to move away but he still got the bite anyway.

"Well I lost a friend". Azriel was not even listening to her at the moment, just trying to take bites of her ice cream.

He then took another bite and at this time, Gwyn didn't even try to move away, she just stole one bite of his ice cream and then made a face, "How can you eat such ice cream? It has no sugar!" which led to Azriel laugh, a full and real laugh. Gwyn just looked at him, and burst out laughing as well.

*It took me 2 hours to write this. It is currently 4am in the morning. ANYWAYS, hope you liked it. And I may not be online this month a lot as I have my mid terms coming up. ANYWAYS, this was ONE LONG headcanon, and I hope it fulfilled your quota. BUT, I hope y'all won't stop writing headcanons as I may not write any BUT I read ALOT. ANYWAYS, thank you for coming to my ted talk.

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mandoalorian · 3 years

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Hi 👋 hope your staying safe! Can I request something with Santi, please? Could you write something where Santi and reader used to be friends as kids, Santi having looked out for reader when she was picked on or if she fell over at school, but then after he graduated they lost contact until years later reader reaches out to him randomly and they reunite, maybe fall in love??

Sorry if it's strange, I'm going through something similar but I'm trying to get the guts to reach out to the guy, it's nerve wracking!! 😳😨 Maybe reading something will give me a boost 😂

Tinder [Santiago Garcia x F!Reader]

Word count: 1,700

Rating: 18+ I guess? I don’t know. Nothing explicit, it’s just Tinder is an 18+ app.

Warnings: food mention, tinder mention, allusions to sex

Masterlist

Tinder. It was so tedious. An app that had gained it’s reputation for being nothing more than a “hookup app” or even a “sex app”. It was associated with superficiality and laced with sexual innuendos. It was the app that had been accused of igniting modern day hookup culture. It was the app that Santiago Garcia frequented every damn day. The man even paid a premium! It was a quick and easy way for him to meet girls for drinks and a quick fuck. It’s all a man like Santiago had time for. Falling in love wasn’t an option for him. It was something he’d never considered until Games Night last week.

Once upon a time, Will’s small living room was just filled with him, Santiago, Frankie, Benny and Tom, but the head count had grown extensively over the past few years. Tom had reconciled with Molly, Yovanna and Benny had something going on, and now even Frankie was engaged to the blonde haired, blue eyed girl who sat quietly in the corner sipping tea and doodling in her sketchbook.

Santiago didn’t mind the girls. In fact, he actually enjoyed their company, but their presence only had him yearn for something more. He’d never been one to think about settling down or starting a family of his own, but he felt an indirect pressure. Maybe trying out one long term relationship wouldn’t be so bad after all? But he was so used to his flings. How was he ever going to grow out of his commitment issues and find someone he could really connect with.

Truthfully, he’d already found her, about fifteen years ago.

You and Santiago Garcia were the best of friends. You used to do everything together; walking home from school hand in hand, singing and dancing when you thought no one was around, playing LEGO and building up jigsaw’s. He was your soulmate, in every sense of the word. But you can’t stay young forever and eventually Santiago left your small neighbourly town to join the military. And you never saw him again.

Which is why it was a surprise when you, half asleep at 2 am, and drooling on your pillow, lazily swiped right on his profile. You weren’t even paying attention. Just another tanned skin man with dark brown hair and chocolate eyes. It was a haze, and your desperation to move on from your ex boyfriend had you yearning to meet someone new. You groaned tiredly, deciding you were never going to find someone as good as your ex, switched your phone off and shoved it under your pillow before finally getting some sleep.

At around 3 am, Santiago still wasn’t asleep, thanks to his roommate Frankie and his fiancée keeping probably the whole apartment complex awake. He pulled out his phone from his nightstand and checked Tinder. That’s when he saw you. Before even checking your name, he could tell it was you by that familiar sparkle in your eyes, and the way your perfect lips curled into a smile. It might have been fifteen years since he’d last seen you, but just looking at your photo made it feel like yesterday. He couldn’t contain his wide grin as he flicked through your photos. You looked just as beautiful as ever, and Santiago recalled the crush he had on you when you were both kids. He wondered how come you hadn't settled down already. He knew you always dreamed of getting married and having kids, with a big house and a big dog. So why were you on Tinder?

In a simple spur of the moment, Santiago swiped right.

‘It’s a match!’ the words blew up on Santiago’s screen and illuminated the dark bedroom. Streamers and confetti exploded around your photo; the typical thing that always happened when he matched with women on Tinder, only now it actually felt like celebrating. This meant that you must’ve swiped right on him too.

You spent the morning the same way you always did, laying in bed and checking the notifications on your different social media. Just before you were about to get up, you remembered how you’d impulsively installed Tinder the night before and, on a whim, you opened the app to see if you had matched with anyone.

You scrolled through the eight matches you’d gained through the night, frowning and twisting your face in disgust at some of the profiles. You really hadn’t been paying attention to who you were swiping.

Your eyes went comically wide when you read the name at the end of the list.

‘You have matched with: Santiago Garcia! Say hi!’

It was like time had frozen and you read the words over and over again. Santiago Garcia. Santiago Garcia. Santiago Garcia. You wondered how many Santiago Garcia’s lived in New York City - or more specifically, only three miles away?!

You hammered your thumb into your screen to view his profile and you were blown away as you went through his photos. That was definitely him. That was definitely your childhood best friend. Although his hair was once dark and curly, it was now short and slightly salt and peppered. He had a slight graze of facial hair in all of his photos, and in most of them, he was seen to be hanging out with a bunch of other guys. Wait- was that Francisco Morales too? They were still friends?

You were so nervous to say something. Truthfully, if you had come across his profile at any other moment where you weren’t half asleep, and hopelessly desperate for love, your fear would’ve stopped you from swiping right. You’d been in love with Santiago since pre-school. It had been over a decade but you still thought about him every single day and cherished those long lost moments you spent together.

But the reality was, that he’d swiped right on you too. He was interested in you as well! Which had to count for something. You took a deep breath and typed out the words “Hello :)” before quickly turning your phone off and throwing it across your bedroom.

You sat bolt upright in your bed for a few moments, contemplating what you had done. You told yourself it would be okay and asked yourself what was the worst that could happen. You sighed and forced yourself out of bed to get ready for the day ahead.

Turning off your phone was a good idea because you’d actually forgotten about messaging Santiago until about lunch time. You flicked through the television channels, holding a lazily put together sandwich in your free hand, and landed on a dating game show. You considered applying, thinking about how fun it might be, when you remembered you might already have a shot with someone else. Santiago. You dropped your sandwich on the coffee table in a frenzy, ran to your bedroom and turned on your phone. The painful minute it took to completely boot up sent butterflies rampant in the pit of your stomach.

Santiago: Hey! How you doing? I gotta say I was really surprised to see that we matched last night. It’s been a long time!

Oh my god. He’d replied. He’d replied three hours ago and you hadn’t said anything back. Shit. You wondered if you had already blown your chances, but little did you know, Santiago had been holding out for a message from you for a long time.

You: Right...almost fifteen years, I think! I’m okay. How are you?

You pressed send and took a deep breath. It was okay. Just casual small talk. It would be okay. You slid your phone into your pocket and went back to eat your sandwich. No matter how hard you tried to focus on the game show, you just couldn’t stop thinking about Santiago.

“Santi! You got a new message!” Frankie called from the other room, taking a huge, messy bite out of a candy bar and picking up his phone.

“Frankie! I’m literally on the toilet… can it wait?” Santiago cried, face palming and chuckling incredulously. Living with his best friend for five long years meant that Santiago had become accustomed to interactions like this.

“No, I don’t think so,” Frankie mumbled, knotting his eyebrows together as he read the notification that had popped up on the screen. “Hey, are you talking to Y/N L/N from high school?”

“Wh- what?” Santiago asked, feeling his cheeks flush.

“Oh my God you are!” Frankie gasped excitedly, typing in his friend’s passcode for his phone and getting inside. “On Tinder!”

Santiago finished up washing his hands and walked out the bathroom, an unamused scowl drawn upon his lips. Frankie swallowed at his best friend’s expression.

“This has to stop,” Santiago warned, taking his phone from Frankie’s hand. “I love you buddy, I really do. But you’re getting married next Summer. You can’t keep trying to talk to me while I’m on the toilet!”

Frankie laughed and rolled his eyes before getting back to his video game.

Santiago was shocked to be reminded that you had remembered exactly how long it had been since you last saw each other. He began to compose his next message. You practically screamed when you felt your phone vibrate at the notification.

Santiago: I’m well, thanks for asking. Would you be interested in meeting up sometime for a few drinks? I’d love to catch up.

Drinks. A catch up. It sounded perfect. You already found your mind racing as you wondered what to wear.

You: That sounds great!

Santiago’s reply came fleetingly.

Santiago: Are you free tonight? X

Tonight was so soon… but you were free, and it felt like you’d been waiting forever to reunite with your childhood crush. And he felt the same way. It was so exciting for both of you.

You: Tonight sounds great. See you then :) x

You and Santiago spent the rest of the day in anticipation to see one another. You didn’t know then, but the accidental Tinder encounter turned out to be the long lasting and perfect relationship both you and Santiago craved. The soulmates were reunited at last.

Taglists - let me know if you wish to be added!

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #pedro pascal #frankie morales #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Text

Delight in Misery (ao3) - part 1, part 2, part 3

Sometimes, Lan Wangji would weigh the various downsides of being injured against each other to see which one was the worst.

It was not, in Lan Wangji’s opinion, the pain.

After all, he’d long ago learned to cultivate through suffering, subjecting himself to discipline and the bite of the Cold Springs. Yes, the wounds of the discipline whip took a long time to heal, a constant throbbing agony, but Jiang Cheng faithfully applied a salve to them twice daily (sometimes after kicking the bed to get Lan Wangji’s attention if he happened to be in a stupor, because the man had no notion of grace) and prepared for nourishing soups and bitter medicines to help ease the feeling.

It took Lan Wangji months and an unfortunate incident with Jin Ling sliding himself forward on his belly towards the kitchen with remarkable speed to realize that Jiang Cheng prepared the food and medicine himself. It was supposedly to protect Lan Wangji’s privacy and better keep the secret of his existence, according to a flustered Jiang Cheng upon being confronted, but Lan Wangji knew that he was lying.

Lan Wangji had good hearing, after all, and Jiang Cheng sometimes left the door to his room open a crack, especially if Jin Ling was asleep in his crib in the corner, and, well –

Jiang Cheng talked to himself when he cooked.

(“Damnit, jiejie, did you have to pick the world’s most finicky recipe?” he’d grumble under his breath. “So many onions! I swear you secretly increased the number just to make me cry more – is that why it never tastes like yours?”

A pause.

“I didn’t mean it, jiejie. I know you’d never mess with your recipes, you always said that making us food was how you showed your love for us…what do you mean the soup’s just like me? I’m not finicky.”)

That had eased the pain even more. To know someone cared enough to –

Lan Wanji didn’t say anything about those conversations, or the worrying things they suggested about the state of Jiang Cheng’s mind. After all, a man was entitled to his own grief; wasn’t that how they’d ended up in this situation to begin with?

Anyway, if he were to start hallucinating Wei Wuxian, he’d probably talk with him, too. He’d never stop talking to him.

Of course, he thought, no one would notice it if he did. The conversations would entirely consist of him listening and occasionally grunting in acknowledgment while Wei Wuxian chattered on and on –

He didn’t hallucinate.

No, no matter how bad the pain got, Lan Wangji remained painfully lucid, excessively sober.

There had only been once that it truly got to be too much for him, and he asked Jiang Cheng to bring him wine to drink in an attempt to not think about it –

Jiang Cheng refused to tell him what he’d said or done that night, telling him that nothing of interest occurred, but he never brought him any more wine, either, so Lan Wangji didn’t believe him in the slightest.

He didn’t ask again.

(No one ever answered Inquiry, either)

So no. It wasn’t the pain that was the worst – whether the physical pangs of his body or the mental lashing of his endless heartbreak, he could, and would, survive.

Nor was the worst part the forced bedrest.

After all, staying still for long periods of time was nothing to a member of the Lan sect, and the immobility allowed him time to contemplate his thoughts, turning them around and around in his head until they were as smooth and polished as a stone washed by the river.

He had a lot of thoughts.

Very few of them were good ones.

It might have been too much, if he’d been alone and in seclusion – if Jiang Cheng wasn’t always blowing into his room like a hurricane, loud and always blowing hot and cold; if he didn’t have A-Yuan coming to him for lessons, regular as clockwork; if he didn’t get Jin Ling dropped into his lap whenever Jiang Cheng was otherwise occupied. But even when they weren’t around, there was always fresh paper and ink if he wanted to write, his guqin close at hand and a never-empty pot of incense…even a weiqi board that they sometimes unmercifully tortured.

There were books as well, of course; all the books that the Jiang sect’s recovering library had to offer. By being conquered, the Jiang sect had escaped the fate of the Lan sect, and while their official library had been plundered of all its manuals and textbooks, many of the personal books remained – especially the ones hidden in the walls or ceiling by mischievous children.

Sometimes mischievous adults.

Lan Wangji read the stories to a fascinated A-Yuan and Jing Ling. Sometimes, if it was a good day, Jiang Cheng would come by as well to tell stories of memories that the stories evoked – that this one was the one Wei Wuxian had insisted on hearing every single night until they were all sick of it, that that one had been purchased on an outing to an especially boisterous market town downriver, that yet another had been read to him first when he’d been sick with a cough and Wei Wuxian had never let him forget how he always seemed to cough whenever the love interest’s name was mentioned.

(If it was a bad day, Lan Wangji would read the stories at a louder volume, trying to drown out the sound of sobs from the room across the way, and ignore as best he could the smell of bile and blood.)

Yes, the bedrest was manageable. Fine, even.

No, Lan Wangji thought, reaching the same conclusion as always – the worst part of being seriously injured was, without a doubt, the getting better.

“Time for physical conditioning!” Jiang Cheng crowed, looking far, far too cheerful about it.

It wasn’t even as if he had any room to complain about Lan Wangji as a patient! Even in the worst days of the injury, Lan Wangji hadn’t once complained about needing to turn over to avoid getting sores or to the endless sessions of acupuncture designed to help maintain his internal stability, he’d submitted to Jiang Cheng helping him stretch his arms and legs without anything more than a grunt of pain – he’d even carefully maintained a regular circulation of qi throughout his body to prevent his muscles and bones from deteriorating too much no matter how bad his mental state would sometimes get.

Lan Wangji had always intended on subjecting himself to a harsh physical regimen to regain his fitness once his wounds were not so dire that excessive movement would rip them open or cause his qi to become unstable. Yet Jiang Cheng took a truly gruesome joy in (unnecessarily) forcing Lan Wangji to do things, things like walk around the room, or lift weights, or – now that he was doing better – exercise.

And he was being such a pest about it, too.

He’d forced Lan Wangji to start by doing the horse stance again, like a child.

In fact, he seriously suspected that A-Yuan’s conditioning training routine and his own were identical, a suspicion supported by the way A-Yuan would mimic him and claim he was just practicing.

“It’s good that he’s so diligent,” Jiang Cheng said with a suspiciously straight face. “And has such a reliable role model.”

Lan Wangji glared at him, exhausted and pushed past his limits from the last hour of performing the most painfully basic sword exercises to re-habituate himself to it now that his back was most of the way healed. “Get lost.”

Jiang Cheng exaggeratedly brought his hands to his chest as if in shock. “It can’t be! Have I reached Wei Wuxian levels at last?”

Lan Wangji, who’d been trying to slowly execute a maneuver he’d had down since he was younger than A-Yuan was now, missed a step, then turned and glared to cover up his amusement.

(Any mention of Wei Wuxian had once immediately summoned a flood of sorrow and regret, but Jiang Cheng simply brought him up too often; Lan Wangji had by now become somewhat inured. He thought that Wei Wuxian’s spirit, wherever it was and however resistant to his summons, might enjoy that.)

Jiang Cheng squinted at him with a suspicious expression. “I think you found that funny, but with an ice-block like you, it’s impossible to say.”

“Feel free to chisel an expression you prefer.” Lan Wangji finished the maneuver and started it over again. The scars on his back pulled, but held without breaking or bleeding anew; it had been nearly two years since the discipline whip had fallen on his back, and while he was still far too weak to risk going out, it meant – irritatingly enough – that Jiang Cheng was correct and this level of exercise was indeed appropriate.

That didn’t mean Lan Wangji had to like it.

“Can I? You mean that you come in an option other than ‘mildly peeved’?”

“‘Faintly murderous’ is also available. Continue on your present course to see it.”

There was a snort from the door, a voice so familiar that Lan Wangji continued another five steps in his current maneuver before realizing that the voice shouldn’t be there, that it was familiar from his memories of Gusu rather than his present day at the Lotus Pier.

His fingers tightened around Bichen. “…Brother.”

Jiang Cheng had finally told Lan Xichen that he knew where Lan Wangji was, and apparently the entire thing had been a fiasco of such epic proportions that he refused to speak of it again.

(The few hints he’d given of the situation suggested that tears might have been involved, and possibly a black eye or two.)

Of course, he’d then followed it up by banning him from the Lotus Pier until Lan Xichen felt that he could come visit without immediately demanding (or requesting, which was more likely) that Lan Wangji return to Gusu with him.

Lan Wangji hadn’t been especially impressed with that requirement, given that he’d already told Jiang Cheng that he would not succumb to any such requests; it had led to several days of cold war between them until Jiang Cheng broke and confessed that he assumed that Lan Wangji would want to leave the second he laid eyes on Lan Xichen and so was postponing it as much as possible.

Lan Wangji had magnanimously forgiven him, since in truth he’d been a little concerned about the same.

He turned around.

Lan Xichen’s eyes were wet and glistening, his body a little thinner than Lan Wangji remembered, but it was still him in all the important, fundamental ways. His elder brother, who loved him, and Lan Wangji was suddenly full of so many feelings that he couldn’t even begin to understand them, much less express them.

“You know, I think I hear someone calling me urgently,” Jiang Cheng – who must have known that Lan Xichen was visiting, since entering the Lotus Pier required reporting his presence to the Sect Leader – said, turning and fleeing from the room at once.

“Coward,” Lan Wangji said mildly, knowing that Jiang Cheng’s cultivation was sufficient to let him hear the word without him having to raise his voice.

“Don’t blame Sect Leader Jiang,” Lan Xichen said, and his voice was warm as the summer days of their childhood. “I came several days ago; he had no idea of which day I would finally work up my courage to see you.”

Lan Wangji blinked, surprised. “Courage?”

Why would his brother require courage to see him?

“Wangji…” Lan Xichen’s hands were clasped together in front of him, a sign of anxiety. “I was worried you were still angry at me. That I would come, and you would turn me away.”

Lan Wangji would not have extended the invitation if he hadn’t been willing to see him. “I would not have turned you away.”

“But you’re still angry,” Lan Xichen said wisely.

Lan Wangji shrugged, meaning a little, meaning the love of my life died alone and you lied to me about it, meaning that I understand why you did it does not lessen how I feel about it.

“I am sorry,” Lan Xichen said. “I was wrong.”

Lan Wangji was surprised. He knew his brother well enough to know he would never say the words merely out of guilt or convenience or a desire to make peace; to say them aloud, he would have had to think over his actions, truly think them over, and to decide that he had in fact been wrong.

Lan Xichen saw his surprise and ducked his head a little. “I confided in my sworn brothers, and each one of them told me, in very different terms and for very different reasons, I was an idiot,” he said. “Even if I feared for your life, even if I doubted your choices – you are an adult, and I treated you like a child. I broke your trust. It was wrong, and I should not have done it.”

They were still in dispute as to the quality of Wei Wuxian’s character, then, but – Lan Wangji could live with that. It seemed more real, somehow, than a complete turnaround would have been.

“You are forgiven,” he said, and mostly meant it. The remaining part of that ‘mostly’ was only a scar, and could be – and would be – ignored by strength of will. And then, because he did love his brother no matter how much pain he had caused him, he added, “I missed you.”

Lan Xichen rubbed his eyes, which caused a dull ache in Lan Wangji’s chest. “I missed you too, Wangji. I – oh, I was so worried!”

Lan Wangji took an automatic step back from the unexpected exclamation, but he supposed it was reasonable. He had disappeared with his back still torn open from the discipline whip, and he had become feverish to the point of fainting – yes, worry was a reasonable reaction.

Especially since Lan Wangji had stubbornly remained missing for two entire years.

“I meant you to be,” he said honestly, because Lan Xichen deserved to know that his perfect little brother had an unexpectedly spiteful side to him.

Lan Xichen smiled at him, unbothered. “I figured as much, when we couldn’t find you no matter where we looked – the cultivation world is not so large that you could go unnoticed, even hurt and suffering; you must have found a place to shelter. We were fairly sure you weren’t dead, and that meant it had to be intentional. I was angry, for a while, but eventually – well, in the end, I’m just happy to see you.”

Lan Wangji was happy to see Lan Xichen, too. He’d missed his big brother, so calm and gentle; that he was angry at him did not mean that he did not love him, that he didn’t want him around.

It was a sudden breath of wind on a pleasant day, a sudden gust of Gusu tranquility in the middle of the now-familiar ruckus of the Lotus Pier.

“Can I serve you tea?” Lan Wangji asked, suddenly full of the desire to show his brother his room here – to show him that he hadn’t suffered during this time. He wanted to show him the weiqi board so that he could laugh at the appalling (and yet disturbingly successful) way Jiang Cheng played, to show him the books and the sandalwood incense that reminded Lan Wangji so much of Gusu that there was no way that Jiang Cheng hadn’t ordered especially for him, to let him meet A-Yuan and get punched by little Jin Ling who was too small for his version of his uncle’s temper to be anything other than cute.

To show him that the Lotus Pier was not merely a shelter for Lan Wangji, but a home.

Lan Xichen nodded, and they went.

Lan Xichen seemed pleased with Lan Wangji’s room, nodding in approval as Lan Wangji showed him around. But when there was nothing else to be pointed out, he looked sidelong at Lan Wangji and murmured, “Sect Leader Jiang informed me that I was not to raise the possibility of you returning. Was that your will, or his?”

If he’s keeping you here by force, I will put aside all etiquette to fight for you, he meant, and Lan Wangji was touched.

“Both,” he said. “I am not ready to return to the Cloud Recesses.”

They both knew that it wasn’t his injuries that were preventing him.

“You like it here, then?”

“I do.”

A pause, and then – “I’m glad.”

They had tea, then, and spoke of other things. Lan Xichen, always the more talkative one, told Lan Wangji of the way life in Cloud Recesses had at long last started to resemble the days before fire and war, of the rambunctious child that their uncle had adopted and couldn’t seem to bring himself to scold, and even of the way his sworn brothers who could scarcely tolerate each other had managed to come together in agreement to help him search for Lan Wangji.

“I may have let them search a bit longer than I needed to,” Lan Xichen confessed. “Things were getting bad for a while there, very bad – did you hear about Xue Yang?”

“Mm. Disappeared before trial.”

“Yes, in the end. Before that, though, there was a period when da-ge’s temper was getting worse and worse, and A-Yao was doing everything he could to irritate him while pretending he’d never done anything wrong in his life, which of course irritated da-ge even more…I honestly thought one of them might try to kill the other. But then I ended up having a small fit while the two of them were bickering, and by the time I recovered they’d somehow managed to get over the worst of it.”

Lan Wangji raised his eyebrows.

“I think they realized that I couldn’t handle losing either of them at that time,” Lan Xichen said with a shrug, indicating clearly that the fit in question was not a subject that was open for discussion. “I’d had the abrupt realization that I really might never see you again, if not even they could locate you...it really was a surprise that Jiang Cheng turned out to be such an accomplished liar.”

“Did he actually lie?” Lan Wangji asked, truly curious. The Jiang Cheng he knew was a horrendous liar, but surprisingly good at omitting details.

A Yunmeng trait, according to Jiang Cheng. It made Lan Wangji wonder what secrets Wei Wuxian might have been keeping hidden behind his smile.

“Well, he was very good at misdirecting away from any direct questions, at any rate,” Lan Xichen said with a smile that was a little tense around the corners. Lan Wangji suspected that he hadn’t quite forgiven Jiang Cheng for his part in hiding Lan Wangji, for all that Lan Xichen would never permit himself to seek revenge for the slight. “Often with anger, or with bluster…do you truly enjoy his company?”

“Very much,” Lan Wangji said, and almost chuckled at Lan Xichen’s somewhat disbelieving face. “Was his confession to you as much of a disaster as he made it sound?”

“There were tears,” Lan Xichen said. “And not just mine.”

Lan Wangji hid away a smile.

In return, his brother’s eyebrows went up. Lan Wangji didn’t blame him; he knew that Lan Xichen was not accustomed to his ever-serious younger brother smiling, even a hidden one.

Lan Wangji did not know how to tell him that the only way to put up with Jiang Cheng for any period of time was to learn to find his antics funny – how to tell his brother that he’d smiled more, here in the Lotus Pier, than any period of his life to date.

Even the parts with Wei Wuxian in them had been too full of confusion for smiles, confusion and love and denial. He dearly wished that Wei Wuxian could see him now, occasional smiles and lowering himself to engage in banter with Jiang Cheng – he thought Wei Wuxian would like it.

He thought, perhaps over-optimistically, that Wei Wuxian might have liked him. This version of him.

There was a familiar creak, then, and Lan Wangji shook his head, even more amused.

“He’s about to kick the door open,” he told Lan Xichen, who looked even more surprised at the unexpected prediction. “He always does.”

Sure enough, a moment later, Jiang Cheng burst into the door like a blast of the south wind, hot and blustery; his arms were unsurprisingly full of children.

“You forgot to stretch before you left the training field,” he said conversationally, which was a tone that, to judge by Lan Xichen’s expression, sounded to a normal person like an angry, dismissive growl. “You get an extra hour of acupuncture as penance. Also, I hope your bonding time has been enjoyable, because it’s over now - I need you to watch the kids before they ruin my trade agreements.”

It was a demand, not a question, and Jiang Cheng didn’t wait for an answer: a moment later and he was gone again. But now there was Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui there, looking curiously at Lan Xichen, and Lan Wangji nodded at them to indicate that his presence had been sanctioned.

Lan Xichen, in turn, recovered himself quickly and smiled at them. “My name is Lan Xichen,” he said, opting for a far more informal introduction than would normally be appropriate. “You can call me Uncle, if you like. What’s your names?”

“I’m Lan Yuan, uncle,” A-Yuan said formally, and tried to salute the way Lan Wangji taught him. “And he’s Jin Ling. He’s not yet two, so he doesn’t bow yet. Hanguang-jun, should I take him to paint?”

Lan Wangji nodded his permission, so A-Yuan took Jin Ling by the hand – not hard, since Jin Ling was not-so-subtly trying to hide behind him to block Lan Xichen’s curious gaze – and led him over to the corner of the room where they’d stored all the children’s supplies.

“Lan Yuan,” Lan Xichen echoed, and turned his eyes on Lan Wangji. “I’d heard of him before. The stories made him out to be the product of some sort of tragic love affair or a mistress of Jiang Cheng’s. I hadn’t put it together with your presence here before. Does that mean…?”

Lan Wangji nodded, confirming Lan Xichen’s suspicions that he was the one raising him – that he’d agreed to share his surname with him.

“Where did you find him?”

Lan Wangji shook his head, refusing to answer.

Lan Xichen nodded slowly. There was a little pain in his eyes: they had once been so close that there had been no questions that wouldn’t be answered, or subjects that couldn’t be discussed, like Lan Xichen’s breakdown or Lan Yuan’s origins. “You’re right; it doesn’t matter. If you say he’s a Lan, then that’s enough for me…I’ll have him included in the family register at home, if you’ll consent.”

Once in the register, Lan Sizhui would have the right to wear the cloud-patterned forehead ribbon. It would give him the backing of being a member of the Lan clan, with all the responsibilities that came with it – the ones Lan Wangji was trying to teach him, and which he could learn better in the future if he went to the Cloud Recesses to learn.

It would be good for him to have that option.

“How will you explain it?” Lan Wangji asked, meaning I don’t want them to know I’m here.

Lan Xichen smiled faintly, and that was agreement – reluctant agreement, but agreement nonetheless. “I wasn’t planning on explaining it.”

For once in his life, Lan Wangji was almost looking forward to hearing the gossip.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #lan wangji #lan xichen #lan sizhui #jin ling #my fic #my fics #delight in misery

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night-fallz · 3 years

Text

Jason Todd x Avengers Crossover

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

Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next

Unexpected (part 2)

Two days have passed since Clint was saved by Jason. And for some reason, he still can't get the vigilante out of his mind.

Natasha teased him about it but he knows that if she sees Jason in action, she would be intrigued as well.

The way he fought was mesmerizing. Every bullet that was shot was so precisely aimed that the wounds weren't deadly.

Sure it knocked them out, but they weren't gonna die.

That form of marksmanship was only earned through years of hard work. And Clint's worked with Bucky enough times to know that Jason somehow predicted the next move of the attackers, aiming at the non-lethal body parts.

He has a feeling that Bucky and Jason would make an incredible duo.

Which is why he needs them to meet.

Clint doesn't usually do this but the more he thought about the bucket-wearing vigilante, the higher his list of questions got.

He took out his phone, leaning against the couch as he searched for the man that saved him.

vigilante wearing red bucket

He scrolled through google trying to find a decent article on the guy.

After thirty whole minutes of barely finding information, Clint wanted to throw his phone across the room. So far, all he's figured out was that Jason's territory was in Gotham and that his vigilante name is 'Red Hood'.

Which was... creative in a way?

At least it wasn't 'Red Bucket' or 'Bucket Head' or anything like that. It was definitely better than 'Green Arrow'.

After another failed search, he decided to finally give up. There was nothing about Red Hood. All the articles were mainly about Batman, Nightwing, a restaurant place, and a Robin!

He groaned and put his face in his hands. He doesn't care about those overrated heroes, he wants to find out more about Red Hood.

The guy was so cool... he wonders why there were barely any pieces written about him. The few sentences that he's read about the vigilante almost always depicted him in a bad light.

Which was honestly unfair.

He stared at his phone, contemplating on whether or not he should ask Natasha.

On the positive side, he knows that the assassin would have information on Red Hood. Natasha has information on everyone.

But...

Clint didn't want Natasha to tease him even more! If she keeps up with the sarcastic comments then the other Avengers would be curious. And curious Avengers meant nosy people.

He felt himself shiver, really nosy people.

He swears that if he had a sister— older or younger, they would act exactly like how Natasha was acting right now.

He could practically imagine the smirk she was wearing on her face when she picked up.

"Hey, Clint." she casually greeted, "How are you?"

He refrained from gritting his teeth, "I'm doing good." he paused, eyes closing as he took a breath in, this hurt to admit. "I need your help."

"I know."

"What do you know about the Red Hood?"

"The Red Hood?" she hummed under her breath, "Let's see."

Clint heard her moving things around, then he could distinctly hear the noise of paper being flipped. "Do you just have documents of random vigilantes lying around your room?" he couldn't help but ask. "Is this an assassin thing?"

Does Bucky do this too?

"I'm getting you the information you need." she reminded, "How I keep track of the data I have is none of your business."

"Okay, okay." he surrendered, a smile making its way onto his face. "But why don't you just keep it on a computer? Wouldn't that make things easier for you?"

She ignored his question, "Red Hood is an excellent marksman," she stated. "He made his debut as a crime lord by showing a bunch of people a duffel bag filled with the heads of notorious criminals."

Clint let out a whistle, "That is an intense introduction. He's even better than I thought he would be."

"Yeah," Natasha agreed. "He's easily one of the most dangerous and capable vigilantes in Gotham. In a matter of months, he's managed to bring crime down Crime Alley by at least fifty percent. Something that Batman himself, couldn't do. His methods were vicious, but they worked. Extremely well. He's killed a lot of child molesters, human traffickers, and rapists."

Even though Natasha couldn't see him, he tilted his head to the side, biting the inside of his cheek. Clint could care less about what methods Jason used. If they worked, they worked. And it's not like those criminals didn't deserve it. It's just-

Killing takes a lot out of you. Especially when you're young. Clint would know.

He had no doubt in his head that Jason was an incredible fighter. Not to mention that he was also huge— in both height and muscle.

He can see why he has a majority of Gotham fooled.

But, for about a minute, after they won against the ninjas, Jason removed his helmet in order to get a breath of fresh air.

A mask might've been covering his eyes, but Clint's been in the vigilante business for years now. He remembers clear as day, just how young the vigilante looked under the sun.

When Clint first started, he was thankful that he had Natasha to talk to whenever things got hard. Whenever he felt guilty for taking someone's life. No matter how much they deserved it.

Hell, he's still thankful for Natasha now. Without her, Clint would probably be dead. His body found bleeding out in an abandoned area, a neat row of scars on his thighs and arms.

He hopes that Jason has a friend like Natasha. Someone who'd be there for him no matter what. Someone who'd remind him that he was worth it. That he was loved.

Cause if not, then there is no way that the kid is okay.

Natasha's sharp voice interrupted his thoughts, "That was a few years ago. As far as I know, he doesn't kill anymore. The farthest that Hood would go now would be to permanently cripple someone. And even then, he would only do that when the person did something unforgivable."

After a few seconds of silence, Clint opened his mouth. "Is that it?" he couldn't help but question.

"Nope," Natasha admitted. "But it's all I'm willing to tell you."

"Fine then," he smirked. "Keep your assassiny secrets. I got more than I expected anyways."

"What did you get yourself into, Clint? Why all the sudden interest in him? Why all the sudden interest in a vigilante in Gotham?"

He knows that Natasha was just looking out for him. She was worried. "Do you remember a few days ago when I was saved by this Jason guy?" he asked.

"Yeah? You've been talking about him nonstop. He saved your ass and you gave him your number." she paused before adding, "Your private one."

He nodded, "Yeah. Well, he's the Red Hood."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. I searched him up and he had the same costume and everything."

"And he actually said that his name was Jason?"

"Yep." he tried to casually say, "It's probably cause Jason's a popular name and stuff."

"Maybe." Natasha hesitantly agreed, "But anyway, since you gave him your number, I think you should know that I've always wanted to meet him so if he texts you soon..."

Her voice trailed off and Clint couldn't hold in his sigh, "Yeah, yeah. I'll arrange a meet-up or whatever."

Her voice automatically brightened, "Actually?"

The corner of his mouth lifted, "Sure. But I wanted to introduce him to Bucky first."

Natasha made a shocked sound of betrayal, "Wha- but Clint!" she whined, "I'm the one who's asking. Not him."

"I know."

It took everything in him to stop the laugh from escaping his mouth.

Complaints about how unfair Clint was being made their way onto his ears and he relished each and every one of them. It wasn't often that he had something Natasha wanted.

Revenge was sweet.

After a few minutes, he let out an incredibly fake gasp. "Sorry, Natasha. I gotta go. I have a kitchen emergency."

"What the fuck, Clint." she demanded, "You don't even know how to cook. Remember the omelet incident? What emerg-"

He hung up.

Clint's definitely going to regret ending the call later. He knows it.

But right now, he could care less.

He has something Natasha wants, so she won't murder him.

... hopefully.

He hopes that he runs into the vigilante soon. Jason was cool and pretty fun to talk to. Clint definitely won't mind fighting at Red Hood's side once more.

They worked really well together.

While they were fighting, he knew that Jason was gonna have his back. He knew that Jason wasn't gonna let him get hurt. It was weird, considering that was the first encounter he's ever had with him.

He doesn't know when Jason is gonna decide to use his number, but he hopes that it'll be soon.

He has questions. And whenever Jason was ready, Clint hopes that he can answer.

Starting with the one that's been clouding his head; why did the Red Hood stop killing?

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notes:

okay, I didn’t expect to write a chapter this soon. but reading all the comments you guys left on the previous chapter motivated me. to be honest, I didn’t expect this fanfic to get as many hits as it did.

I don’t know when I’m planning on posting this chapter but right now, my goal is to write as much as I can.

I also don’t know exactly how busy my sophomore year of high school will be, but I feel like it’s better to be safe than sorry. Especially if I make the school volleyball team.

I finished writing this chapter on August 8th, and I have tryouts on the 9th through the 11th from 4-6 pm. (wish me luck!)

like always, please, please, please, leave a comment. i love reading them and they just motivate me so much! Whenever I get author’s block, I just re-read them and they help so, so much. If you don’t wanna leave a comment, that’s fine. If you liked this fanfic, please hit that kudos button though.

and if you just wanna chat or if you want to request any ideas or prompts, just message me here.

ooh, and if there’s anything specific you want to read in this series, please tell me. It never hurts to have any extra ideas. plus, I really want to make this fic more enjoyable for everyone.

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magicalmarauder · 4 years

Text

The Trouble with Love Notes

Pairing: Shawn Mendes x Reader

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 3.9k+

Summary: You love showing your boyfriend that you love him by leaving him sweet, little notes for him to find in various places. However, when you overhear him talking to his friends about how clingy and obnoxious they are, how will he respond when those notes suddenly stop? Fluff/angst!

Grabbing the lunch bag on the seat beside you, you clambered out of your car, closing and locking the door behind you before turning to make your way into the studio where your boyfriend was currently working on his latest album. You and Shawn had been dating for about three years now and the two of you couldn’t be happier with where your relationship was at currently. The two of you had overcome a lot in the past few years and although you hadn’t necessarily enjoyed the trials that your love had to undergo, you were grateful that those things had strengthened and molded your relationship into something so beautiful and solid. Your mom had constantly reminded you growing up that when the person is right, those trials and hardships that you encounter suddenly don’t seem so earth-shattering. And that was advice that you had found to be absolutely true. Despite all the distance, rumors, outside opinions from fans, and so many other things, Shawn was the one for you. He loved you, challenged you, protected you, and encouraged you so well. Being his and being loved by him made up for all the bad days. He was your perfect counterpart and you were his.

However, as much as you loved that incredible man, one thing you decidedly did not love was his forgetful nature. You swore that boy would forget his own head if it wasn’t physically attached to his body. Hence, the reason why you were rolling up in front of the studio on your lunch break to deliver the lunch he had forgotten at home earlier that morning.

Shaking your head softly as you considered your boyfriends forgetful habits, you couldn’t help but be grateful for this particular instance. Because although you had to drive down here to deliver Shawn’s food so he wouldn’t go starving when trying to create another incredible album, you relished any extra opportunity to see him. With his crazy schedule that often took him to the opposite ends of the planet, you were thankful for the times he was close and you could pop in and see him, even if it was just for a short visit.

Opening the door, you smiled as you heard the sound of soft piano music playing and laughter as Shawn sat with his friends and co-creators of this album, attempting to envision lyrics to match this awesome melody they had created the other day.

Standing in the doorway, not wishing to interrupt, you merely watched your boyfriend, loving how passionate he was about his music. It was incredible to see him perform his songs and interact with his fans, but you secretly preferred this aspect of Shawn’s job even more. For one, it meant he was usually close to you, the studio he wrote in being only a few short blocks from your shared apartment. But mostly, you loved seeing him create. He possessed so much talent, for sure, but you just loved seeing him pour his heart into his songs and to see the smile on his face when he would nail a melody or put together lyrics that perfectly portrayed what was in his heart. You couldn’t really describe the feeling you got when watching him in his element, you just knew that your heart never failed to swell with love and pride at seeing him like this.

Your admiration was cut short however when Brian, who had been lying on the couch and throwing a tennis ball up and down in the air while listening to Shawn softly sing various different lyrics in search of the perfect one, noticed you standing there and greeted you. “Y/N! Welcome to Studio a la Shawn! What brings you here today?”

“Someone forgot their lunch,” you explained, holding up the bag with you as evidence.

“Aww,” Brian hummed in understanding. “Wouldn’t want our favorite rock star going hungry, now would we?” He grinned.

You returned the sentiment, chuckling softly. “No, of course not,” you teased, looking over to Shawn who had stopped playing and turned around to face you at the first mention of your presence.

“Ok, ok, enough you two,” he rolled his eyes, standing up and crossing the room to greet you.

You grinned up at him as he reached you, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you closer to himself. “Thank you for bringing me my food again, baby. What would I do without you?” He questioned, soft brown eyes boring into your own eyes.

“Starve, probably,” you teased, smiling innocently up at him.

He rolled his eyes as Brian barked out a laugh behind you two before pressing a quick peck to your lips and grabbing the bag out of your hands. “Are you going to stay and eat with us?” He questioned, going to place the bag down on a nearby table before returning to your side.

“No, I can’t,” you responded, heart melting at the pout he gave you in response. “I have to get back to work. I’m swamped today and have to get back soon if I want to get out at a decent hour tonight.”

Shawn sighed, disappointed, but understanding that your job was just as important as his and that it needed to come first sometimes.

“Ok,” he nodded. “Next time.”

“Definitely,” you agreed, lifting up onto your tip toes to press another kiss to his lips, smiling as he deepened the kiss, ignoring the groans and protests from the boys behind you.

“I’ll see you tonight, ok?”

“Ok,” you grinned, reaching up to press one last kiss to his cheek before stepping out of his grip.

Before walking out, you called out a goodbye to the team in the studio, receiving a mixture of responses in return. Smiling to yourself, you made your way back toward the front of the building where your car was parked, now re-energized to finish your work and get home to the love of your life. However, right as you were about to climb into your car, you remembered that you had forgotten to ask Shawn what he wanted you to pick up for dinner on your way home tonight. Contemplating whether you should go back in or simply shoot him a text, you re-locked your car, opting to go in and ask, hoping to maybe sneak in one more quick kiss before heading out.

As you made your way back into the studio, you were stopped dead in your tracks when you heard one of the recording artists you didn’t know quite as well mention your name, followed by several snorts of laughter. Unable to help yourself, you stopped in the hallway, trying to hear what was said of you that had garnished such a reaction.

“Does wittle Shawn need love notes from his mommy?” You heard one of the boys mock, making kissy noises.

Peeking your head around the corner, remaining careful to keep out of sight, you saw Shawn sitting at the table with his lunch opened in front of him and the boys gathered around him as one waved a piece of paper around, a scrap of paper that you had placed in Shawn’s lunch for him to find that morning.

One of your top love languages had always been words of affirmation and giving gifts, so you had combined those traits into one, loving to give encouraging notes to friends and family. It was something you had always done for as long as you could remember. Meeting and dating Shawn had only given you your favorite recipient in which to bequeath these little notes to. It was something you had done randomly when you had first started dating. Shawn had gotten home that day and kissed you silly, claiming that your note had given him the perfect pick-me-up in the midst of his very busy, stressful day and you had been leaving notes for him to find ever since.

“Shut up, man,” Shawn grumbled, ripping the paper from the guys hands and placing it in the front pocket of his skinny jeans, safety out of reach of any of the other men in the room.

Shawn’s flushed cheeks only seemed to encourage the group; however, as their teasing only picked up.

“Enough!” Shawn finally shouted. “It’s not like it’s my fault. I didn’t ask for her to leave these annoying little notes! She’s just clingy and can’t get it through her head that I don’t need her to constantly be up in my business all the time!” He scowled. “I didn’t ask for her to do this, man. But how am I supposed to tell her that she’s being obnoxious? That’s just not something you say to your girl!”

You were frozen in shock, unable to believe the words you were hearing from your boyfriend’s mouth. Shawn had never given you any reason to believe that he found your notes annoying. In fact, you had thought he quite liked them. Given his reaction after receiving the first one, you thought he found it cute? When did that change? Insecurity began to fill your heart and mind as you thought back to every note you had left Shawn and how he had responded. When he thanked you and insisted on how adorable you were for reminding him of your love through surprise, written notes, had he been lying? Did he really think you were clingy and obnoxious?

Unwilling to stick around any longer to find out more of his thoughts on this subject, you turned on your heel and strode out of the room. If he didn’t like your notes, you wouldn’t write them anymore. It was as simple as that.

. . .

The following day, Shawn was once again in the studio, him and his team still trying to nail down the lyrics to one of the final songs on the album. They had made such incredible progress, but had seemed to hit a road block this week. After an intense morning of writing and re-writing different lyrics in an attempt to find the perfect verses, the team had decided that taking a much-needed lunch break and reconvening in an hour would be best.

Opening the lunch that his beautiful girlfriend had packed him that morning, a small smile formed on his lips, knowing that you usually left him a cute little note to find. It had been a tough morning of constant frustration and disappointment as the spark was lacking from the song. A note from you was just what he needed. However, guilt tugged at his heart as he remembered the conversation from yesterday. Matt had seen the paper fall out of his lunch bag yesterday and had been quick to snatch it up, reading it aloud and proceeding to mock him along with the other guys. In embarrassment, Shawn had lashed out and said words that were completely false. He made it sound like he hated your sweet notes, when in fact they filled his heart with so much joy, knowing that his girl loved him enough to take the time and write about how much she loved him and how proud she was of him and to remind him that she believed in him, always.

Digging through the bag, Shawn frowned when he came up empty. No note. That was odd, he thought.

Although, the more he thought about it, the more he remembered how rushed you were this morning. Rationalizing in his mind that you were probably just busy this morning and didn’t have time, he pushed away the thoughts of worry and dug into his food, joining in with the conversation around him.

. . .

About a week later, Shawn was sitting in your living room, leg anxiously bouncing up and down as he waited for you to get home from work. It had been a week now of no notes in his lunch. No notes left for him to find on the fridge in the mornings. No sweet “I Love You” messages scrawled on the bathroom mirror in red lipstick. And it wasn’t only that. You had been quieter. You weren’t as easily affectionate as you had once been with him. You were more reserved. Distant. And it scared the living hell out of him. You were the love of his life. He didn’t think he could live without you. Had your feelings for him changed? Had his crazy lifestyle finally caught up with you? He didn’t think he could handle that if it had.

At first, he had simply written these subtle changed in your behavior off, but he couldn’t do that anymore. He knew something was wrong and he was determined to find out what so he could fix it.

His head snapped in the direction of the door as he heard your key turn in the lock.

He stood up as you stepped through the door, hanging your coat up on the hook and placing your purse and keys on the table by the entryway. He bit his lip as he watched you, silently running through the words that he wanted to say to you.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured.

You looked up, slightly surprised to see him home already and standing poised in the living room waiting for you.

“Hi,” you responded cautiously. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” he reassured. “I just wanted to talk,” he murmured, wringing his hands together nervously. “Can you come here and sit with me?”

Your own anxiety spiked up at that statement. Uh-oh. That didn’t sound too good.

Slowly, you made your way over to him, taking a seat and angling your body so that you were facing him.

Shawn reached out and took one of your hands in both of his and taking a deep breath. “Baby, before I say anything else, I just want you to know how much I love you, okay? You know that, right? That I love you.”

You nodded. “Of course, Shawn. I know that. I love you too.”

Shawn let out a breath, nerves easing slightly at the reassurance of your love for him.

“And you would tell me if anything was wrong, right?” He questioned earnestly, eyes seeking yours for something you weren’t aware of.

You nodded hesitantly, still unsure as to where this conversation was going.

“Then honey,” Shawn began. “What happened to my notes?”

You blinked, completely caught off guard. “Your what?”

“My notes!” Shawn exclaimed, voice raising slightly in panic as he let his confusion, frustration, and hurt slip into his tone. “The ones you leave me everywhere! In my lunch, on the fridge, in the bathroom, everywhere! They’ve stopped! And that’s not all,” Shawn continued, now on a roll. “You’ve been distant! You’ve been quiet at night. You don’t cuddle me in bed like you used to. Sweetheart, what did I do?” He begged. “Tell me, honey. Tell me and I’ll fix it right now. I love you! I’d do anything for you, you know that! Just . . . just, come back to me!” He begged, voice breaking and breaths coming hard as all his fears came tumbling out of his mouth like an uncontrolled waterfall.

You stared at your boyfriend, mouth slightly agape. Whatever you had been expecting, that certainly wasn’t it.

“You - you miss my notes?” You questioned, trying to gather your thoughts.

“Yes!” Shawn breathed. “Of course, I miss your notes, honey! Why would you ever doubt that?” He pleaded, squeezing your hand and inching closer to you so that your legs were brushing against one another.

You looked down, mind racing as you tried to discern what was true. Did Shawn mean what he was saying? Or was he simply worried you were pulling away and just using the lack of love notes as an example?

“I heard you,” you whispered, glancing up quickly before looking back down, not really wanting to let Shawn know you had been eavesdropping on his conversation last week, but seeing no way around it.

“Heard me when, sweetheart?” Shawn questioned, lifting a hand under your chin and gently tilting your face up, searching your eyes for answers.

You blew out a long, slow breath. “Last week,” you finally admitted. “When you forgot your lunch and I came to drop it off at the studio. After I left, I remembered that I needed to ask what you wanted for dinner that night. So, I came back in, but before I could, I overheard apart of your conversation.”

Shawn paled as realization sunk in and he recalled exactly what conversation it was that you had overheard and what words had been said. “Honey . . .” he trailed off, words failing him as he didn’t even know what to say. God, he was such a jerk. How could he say such blasphemous lies about you? His sweet, perfect angel. And now to know that you had overheard him saying such false things about you. It broke his heart, but he had no one to blame but himself.

Mistaking his silence for something else, you began to ramble. “It’s ok if you do think that,” you began. “You’re entitled to your own opinion and if you think that something I do is clingy and obnoxious, just tell me. Don’t make fun of me behind my back with your friends. I can take it, I promise.”

Shawn shook his head, becoming increasingly more angry with himself as he realized that his senseless words had caused you to doubt not only yourself, but his love and appreciation for you. “Sweetheart, stop,” he interrupted. “I love your notes. I love knowing how much you care. Those notes make my entire day.”

You looked down, unsure as to whether he was telling the truth or simply guilty at the fact that he had been caught.

Shawn, seeming to sense your hesitation, again lifted your chin so that he could look you in the eye. “Baby, I’m telling you the truth, I promise. The guys started ragging on me and I got embarrassed. And in my embarrassment, I lashed out and said some really stupid, untrue things,” he explained, shifting even closer to you on the small couch and moving his hands so that they were now cupping your cheeks, forcing you to keep your attention on him. “But I never should have let their teasing get to me,” he continued. “I am so unbelievably proud to have you as a girlfriend and so lucky to be so freely and openly loved by you. You have to believe me, baby. Say you believe me, please.”

Searching his eyes, you saw nothing but sincerely. But still, you hesitated. The hurt from that conversation still lingering in your mind and in your heart. You wanted to believe him so badly, but the sadness of this last week wouldn’t just wash away so easily.

Tears welled up in Shawn’s eyes as he took notice of the internal battle going on in your mind, heartbroken that he had caused you to doubt him and his affection for you. Wracking his brain for some way to get you to believe him, his eyes lit up as he remembered something he had secretly been collecting since the beginning of your relationship and something that followed him on tour always to help him in those tough moments of missing you.

“Wait right here, I’ll be right back!” He exclaimed, as he jumped up from the couch and raced up the stairs, sprinting into your bedroom and pulling out the small scrapbook that he had stored in his suitcase underneath the bed.

Running back down the stairs, he returned to the living room and sat back down next to you on the couch, placing the small book in your lap.

“What’s this?” You questioned, looking up at him in confusion.

“If you have any doubts that I love receiving your cute, little notes, this should reassure you,” he smiled softly. “I take it with me whenever I leave for tour, anytime I’m going to be away from you for any period of time. To reassure myself that you’re here and you love me and that you’re always in my heart, even when I may be physically distant from you.”

Giving him a look, you hesitantly opened the book and gasped when you saw the first note you had ever written to Shawn staring back up at you. You raised your head, gazing at your boyfriend in disbelief. He smiled and nodded at the book, silently encouraging you to keep exploring its contents.

Flipping through the pages, you found more of your notes. They ranged from simple I love you’s to long paragraphs explaining why you loved him as well as quick encouragements cheering him on before important shows or award ceremonies. Reaching the end of the book, you found the note that you had given him just last week, the last one you had written, and the one that had spurred on the fateful conversation that had ended those very notes.

“I’ve saved every single note you’ve given me,” Shawn murmured, grabbing the book and placing it on the table so that he could grab onto your hands. “I love stumbling upon your words of love and encouragement to me throughout the day, whether that be in my lunch, my jacket pocket, or any of the other creative locations you’ve managed to stash them,” he chuckled.

You cracked a smile at that, cheeks warming under his gaze.

“So, believe me, honey, when I tell you that I am so sorry that I ever made you doubt that. I’m an idiot. A complete and utter idiot and I am so, so sorry. Can you forgive me, sweetheart?” He begged, eyes earnestly boring into your own.

Smiling at your sweet boyfriend, you nodded, overcome by emotion as you leaned forward and passionately pressed your lips to his own, hands coming up to embed themselves in his curly hair and tugging, eliciting a groan from him as his own hands wrapped themselves around your waist, tugging you into his lap, causing you to break away in giggles. Shawn laughed as well, relieved that you were back in his arms. Relieved that the light and love was back in your eyes. He pressed a series of kisses to your face, your eyelids, forehead, temple, nose, anywhere his lips could reach.

“Shawn!” You squealed. “Stop!” You laughed.

“Not a chance,” Shawn growled through kisses. “I’ve missed out on a whole week of affection from you, we have a lot of making up to do!” He explained, standing up and throwing you over his shoulder as he ran to the bedroom, hellbent on showing you exactly how much he loved you.

#shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes blurb #reader insert #fanfic #imagine #couple goals #cute #fluff #angst #magicalmarauder

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