#but if one of you doesn’t write a fic about this soon I swear to god I’m gonna have to do it myself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fanaticsnail · 7 months

Text

Snail Masterlist

Hello and welcome, I'm Snail!

I write mainly "x reader" for the One-Piece fandom, all catalogued below the cut. I enjoy writing in my free time, forever chasing the green leaf of lettuce dangling in front of my eyes. I hope you enjoy your time on this page. It is a pleasure carving out worlds that you get to be placed in the middle of. Love you 🖤

Ao3: Archive of our Own link, if you prefer reading on that platform.

WIP List: My current works in progress.

Request: Guidelines for asking for a particular craving to be written for you.

Fic Gift Swapping: I write for you, you write for me. It's a win-win.

Pollen Masterlist: NSFW for multitude of characters for the pollen-trope.

Ko-Fi: If you feel so inclined to support me as I keep creating works, this is a link to enable that should you so desire.

Fic Inspo: mood boards, clips and prompts for all to use.

Glimpses: parts of my life I share.

Fic Recommendations: a collection of works I find myself returning to, written by some beautiful authors.

"Straw Hats and Beyond"

Monkey D. Luffy:

Bachata (Dance Series) (one-shot)

Gyrating, thrusting, swaying and grinding. Where did the straw-hat captain learn to dance in this way? The crew, holding many a whispered conversation regarding the captain's sultry movements, finally is approached head-on by the quartermaster of the Going Merry. Flushed cheeks, gasped breaths and soft smiles ensue as the captain aims to teach her a few of his moves.

Run Away With Me (one-shot)

After being left after a night of passion by her marine lover, sorrow eclipsed the hardening heart of the owner of the library. The librarian, after swearing off sea-baring men, is physically swept off her feet by a mischievous, straw-hat wearing captain who woos her with his undivided support of her dreams of romance.

Australian Luffy (HC Drabbles)

Just some silly dialogue with Aussie slang from Monkey D "Loz"

Ravenous (NSFW one-shot)

Luffy is hungry, and he will stop at nothing to get what he wants. He doesn’t care where it happens, how it happens, or what exactly happens - all he cares about is the who and when. The who is you, and the when is right now and until his hunger is fully satisfied.

Roronoa Zoro:

Blade Song(Dance Series) (one-shot)

The Straw-Hat pirate crew finds themselves amongst a fire-side, sea-front celebration. Swaying, gyrating and twirling occurs with all but one of the crew. The swordsman, never truly learning how to dance in such a way, regrets his miseducation as soon as he sees the object of his pining dancing within the arms of the blonde chef.

Flowers (one-shot)

Men are known to only receive flowers once in their lifetimes, and they are not even able to see them. The Straw-Hat botanist desires to rectify this for one member of the Straw-Hat pirates, the tri-sword wielding First Mate.

Gua-Sha (one-shot)

Slightly fixated by the dragging of the smooth rock against his crewmen's cheeks and jaw, Zoro immediately pipes up and welcomes the opportunity to have his face massaged to relieve any built up tension and pressure behind it. Pining always from afar, Zoro hopes this small moment would bring the two closer together.

Something Like That (request) (one-shot)

A traveler finds themselves accidentally crashing an exclusive event at Baratie, celebrating a foreign holiday with unusual customs. Pulling you away from your evening meal, your eyes met with the hazelnut gaze of a green-haired swordsman. A sprig of emerald leaves, pearls of flowers and a ribbon hung above your heads - what is this? why is he leaning down to press his lips atop your own?

You Deserve Better (Pollen!One-Shot NSFW)

Zoro has inhaled pollen while lost and away from his crew. His crew return from a day of celebration and tease him for is senseless navigational skills. But you notice something's wrong with him. He's hot. So, so hot. And he needs your help to combat his illness. You want to help him so badly, why won't he let you get Chopper? And why was he holding you like that?

Blackleg Sanji:

Bar Shift (4/4 Series)

An all-rounder, front of house manager finally acquires the first day off she's had in a very long time. Sanji, the ever faithful "work-husband" makes her breakfast just in time for Patty to break the news to her that her peaceful day off is to come to an end. Covering the bar shift for one of her staff members, shenanigans and mutual pining ensues.

Waltz (Dance Series) (one-shot)

The chief negotiator and relations expert of the Straw-Hat pirates attempts to teach her captain how to perform a waltz to woo the upper class in a formal setting. She finds joy in movement, but Luffy himself was found to be truly incapable of performing the dance to an adequate level. At lunch, she notices how Sanji holds himself; his posture strong and rigid as he effortlessly glides around the table. She asks him to dance, and he truly surprises her.

3, 2, 1 (request) (3/3 Series)

Sanji notices some interesting etchings against the Going Merry's Chronicler's Journal. Questioning her, she informs him the 'x's and numbers are indicating his amount of cigarette breaks per day and the duration they are taken. Brainstorming ideas on how to achieve the same rush of adrenaline, endorphins and breath control in a healthier way than nicatine addiction; the chronicler, in her genius, suggests they share kisses and bold embraces for the duration of his many breaks: all kept under the strict limit of the egg-shaped timer.

"Someone. Someone Help Me" (NSFW Pollen!Drabble)

"Thank You" (NSFW Pollen!One-Shot)

Sanji has inhaled pollen. There is nobody around to help him and he is a desperate, pleading, subby mess.

Your Flirty Chef (one-shot)

Sanji has been working hard lately, your flirty chef no longer as present as you’d like him to be. You both have some unspoken flirtation between you, hopefully something to shatter by moulding him beneath the touch of your hands.

Sanji x Reader x Zoro:

Eyes Meeting (NSFW part 1)

Lips Brushing (NSFW part 2)

Sanji is in a relationship with the ships chronicler. Zoro accidentally stumbles across them engaging together in intimacy. As soon as his eyes meet with the chronicler's, he is enchanted by their beauty in their bliss.

Koby:

To the ends of the earth (one-shot)

The newest recruits taken under the wing of Vice-Admiral Garp are desperately required of breaking in their training. Leaving them in the care of a young lieutenant, Koby begins to develop a crush on his superior as he pushes his body under her command to perform to the best of his abilities.

Téir Abhaile Riú (3/3 Series)

The mighty Marine vessel Vice-Admiral Garp captains was in dire need of repair. Docking against the peer of a small country town, the Marines are welcomed to the shore by an impromptu performance by the local town celebrity band: the 'Merry Mellifluous Quint'. One of the five members catches the eye and attention of the fast-learning, pink haired cadet who in term becomes immediately smitten by the attention she receives from him.

It's All Okay (NSFW One-Shot)

When submissive Koby gives in to his dominant craving, and all he's met with is support, praise and affirmation in your arms.

Trafalgar D Water Law:

Law Wants You (NSFW Drabble)

Trafalga Law wants you. He wants all of you.

Don't Be So Shy (NSFW Drabble)

Trafalga Law enjoys comforting a shy reader while they take control.

You're The Cure (NSFW Pollen!one-shot)

Eustass Kid:

Law bought you a pretty flower from a port, wanting to impress you with it, and perhaps use it as a courting gift should you want him. As the Polar Tang's Herbalist, you know there is more to this flower than meets the eye. Trafalgar Law got more than what he bargained for with this little gift.

That Thing I Like (One-Shot)

You are ships counselor to the Polar Tang. For the past four days, you had been called into Law’s office over the Den-Den transponder speakers. The crew assumes you two had began a relationship, but what actually occurs is far more intimate than any romantic encounter.

Shameless (NSFW Series 3/3)

You have a type, one that has been forcefully revealed by your crewmen's incessant nagging. After being ordered to return to your workshop to receive further instruction, you become fully aware of why you have been hidden away from meeting with the captain of the Victoria Punk. He was exactly your type.

"Good Boy" (one shot)

Eustass Kid didn't know exactly when it happened, but now he craves to be praised by you. He thrives beneath your words, but the one time you didn't call him a "good boy" has him in a bratty rage.

Restrained (NSFW one-shot)

Eustass Kid didn't know what possessed him to allow his lover to restrain him against his Captains' chair. But yet, here he is: stuck and loving it.

Cellist Kid (NSFW drabble)

Your academic rival and you do not get along. You find his boorish intensity revolting, and he finds your attitude standoffish. As your conductor decides to pair you together to practice, tempers flare and passion ignites.

Massacre Soldier Killer:

Will You Let Me? (NSFW Pollen!one-shot)

Your crew was docked at a port, exploring a new land while you requested to remain behind. Enjoying being without the unruly bunch, your momentary calm was disrupted by the staggering step of your superior. Coughs, grunts and stuttering over his words: your concern grew more severe as you offered to help him through it.

Soul King Brook:

Parts You Left Behind (one-shot)

You are the ship’s counselor aboard the Polar Tang. Giving your captain the permission he desires to behave idiotically with the two Nakama captains, you give yourself permission to behave with similar unbridled stupidity. The Soul-King Brook has your romantic attention: you love his energy and decide to reciprocate his flirtations, no matter how crass and distasteful they come across.

Multiples:

Get Well Soon (Drabble one-shot)

You're sick, and they do their best to support you through it. Zoro, Sanji, Mihawk

Mistletoe (one-shot) (Straw-Hat holiday special)

The botanist aboard the Going Merry shares a cultural tradition with her crew; introducing them and reeducating them on the importance of mistletoe and the mischievousness of her playful lips. Every single member receives a kiss from the botanist; all welcome to her sharing her culture with them.

The Selkie and the Sailor: Mini Fic Drabble (One-Shot)

A mythical creature has rescued the captain of the straw-hat pirates from drowning in the sea. As her eyes meet with the crew, she is immediately taken with one of the sailors: Zoro, Sanji, Luffy

Kiss their cheek (Drabble one-shot)

It was a simple reaction, an impulse you felt organic and out of your control. Their cheek was right there, and the swell in your chest and spike of adrenaline prompted you to lunge forward and capture their cheek beneath your lips. How do they react to such a soft touch? Do they shy away, or do they respond in kind? Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Law, Kid

Recovery (one-shot)

You are in a recovery cot in a hospital willing to accommodate you, resting as your body heals from your latest battle. Expecting to recover alone, you are pleasantly surprised to find yourself within the company of the person you craved the most.

Zoro, Sanji

Please, I'll be good (one-shot)

After rescuing you in the heat of battle, he can no longer contain his desires for you. He was so good. He can keep being good if it means you'll keep kissing him.

Koby, Sanji, Corazon, Sabo, Buggy, Shachi, Ace, Penguin

Last One Laughing (One-Shot)

The Heart-Pirate crew were bent on getting their Captain to smile, no matter the cost. Swapping jokes after mealtime, you all continued to check over your shoulder to see if you managed to break the upturned curve into Law's face.

Platonic Heart-Pirates x reader

"Can You Buy Me Supplies?" (Dialogue)

How the OP characters react to you asking them to purchase you sanitary items for your menstruation period. One sentence dialogue.

Robin, Franky, Chopper, Zoro, Sanji, Luffy, Nami, Usopp, Brook, Kid, Killer, Law, Mihawk, Crocodile, Buggy, Shanks, Beckman, Doflamingo, Corazon.

How They Kiss (drabble)

Four different kisses with all of your favourites. Where would you place them in these categories?

Hallmark Piggyback (drabble)

Short piggyback on @indydonuts post about OP characters in a hallmark movie. Drabble is for Law x reader x Mihawk - amnesia trope

"A little bit older"

Buggy D. Clown:

You Kissed the Clown? (15/15 Series)

An upper-class tinkerer finds herself amongst the crew of the Staw-Hat pirates. Falling within the blast of a giant flash of red smoke and captured with her crew in the claws of the Buggy Pirates; she is confronted by her flight, fight and freeze response. Immediately, she finds another way of distracting the infamous clown-captain: a passionate and disarming kiss. As time and distance fall between them, feelings of romance, infatuation, fascination and longing cling to the clown and the tinkerer in each other's absence. How could they feel so deeply for each other; they only shared one single kiss?

Happy Birthday, Pumpkin (one-shot)

Buggy longs to kiss you but always shies away in case his affection is not reciprocated. Finally, an opportunity presents itself for a consequence-free kiss and he can barely hold himself back in anticipation. Happy birthday!

I Can't Do This Without You (one-shot)(smut)

Buggy attempted to use some unusual, waxy pollen to form into a "buggy-ball". He was an idiot. He can't manage the consequences without his loyal and ever faithful crewmate to help him out.

A Small Kindness (Smut One-Shot)

A blue-haired man with a round red nose is down on his luck. He's lost everything, not a single berry to his name after being defeated again by the straw-hat crew. A small kindness from a stranger propels him to get back on his feet. How could he repay you? Surely you needed something in return.

Headcanons & Drabbles:

Soft-Dom Buggy Bratty Buggy Cross-Guild Interrogation The Clown Apologises

Buggy x Reader x Mihawk:

Swing, Sway, Shag, Smimmy (Buggy x Reader x Mihawk) (4/4)

Buggy is infatuated with his prized acrobat. He issues a dance night-off for his pirate crew, choosing to "make a move" in the hopes of charming his beautiful acrobat under the hawk-like gaze of his guest of honour. Unbeknownst to Buggy, the feeling of infatuation is mutual regarding the acrobat. Can they learn to 'play nice' to woo the acrobat? Yes, yes they can.

Dracule Mihawk:

The Apprentice (6/7 Series)

Mihawk is a bitchy boss, the apprentice is his bratty underling. Professionalism, sword-mastery and affiliation for wine consumption drives their relationship. Mihawk pushed his apprentice a little too far, prompting her to submit a formal resignation effective immediately. Calling her bluff, he attempts to chaperone her towards a cellar door to begin an afternoon of wine-tasting, only to find absence at his side as his apprentice simply walked away from him. And he was angry about it. Ongoing series.

You Should Be Sad (Completed Series):

Upon rising to the title of Warlord and Worlds-Greatest-Swordsman, Dracule Mihawk began to neglect his fiancé and her desires. Unable to provide her with the one thing she truly longed for, he remained apathetic as she broke from their lengthy courtship. A decade later, and many a bottle of brandy relinquished, he drifts to Baratie in hopes of drowning away the memory of her: only to have his hopes shattered as the hired band begins to play with his ex-fiancé singing her vengeance at him.

Let Me Take Care of You (one-shot)

The personal assistant to Dracule Mihawk notices he is not quite acting himself: a small wince as he reaches for his breakfast wine glass, a grimace as he draws it to his lips and the narrowing of his eyes as he begins to slouch. Luckily for the both of them, the assistant has a resume of many a skill: remedial massage being the key element provided to the broody warlord. He reluctantly accepts their touch, longing for the burden to be released from his shoulders.

El Tango de Mihawk (one-shot)

A talented thief manages to obtain an invite to the marine ball and decides to utilize it as a great opportunity to steal from the wealthiest members of the world government. Mihawk immediately recognizes them and decides to toy with their scheming, tango dancing ensues.

The Marine's Mistake (request) (one-shot)

Something horrible occurred to rid the warlord of his signature facial hair. Cadets had gathered and began whispering in hushed tones as Garp held a seated meeting with the warlord at a table in a run of the mill tavern. A new transfer does not recognize the sleek cheeks of the handsome gentlemen and immediately decides to approach to flirtatiously engage him over a drink or two. Mihawk is amused.

My Love Mine All Mine (request) (one-shot)

Mihawk returns to his castle in kuraigana nine days after he was due to return. He finds his lover sleeping in his bed, face falling to rest atop his pillow. Soft drabble, pining, longing.

Hanahaki: The Hawk and the Fledgling (request) (one-shot) Part 2

Mihawk notices his Fledgling, an apprentice he took under his wing, has become lazy in their training. Upon one final vocal reprimand, they collapse; sputtering a cocktail of saliva, blood and... petals? Is that petals in their hand? Surely not.

The Spear and the Sword (request) (one shot)

Drabble Part 2

Mihawk is required by Vice-Admiral Garp to obliterate an approaching armada of barbaric pillagers from their attack on a marine base. As this army was not enough for him to handle alone, Garp calls in another warlord, a ferocious warrior-woman armed with a spear, to aid in his ability to complete this task with as much succession as possible with as little damage done to the defenseless base. Both begin their armed ascension, showcasing their abilities in contest to see how many troops they best by the end of battle, against how many injuries they themselves acquire in the thralls of combat.

Little Sparrow (one-shot: drabble)

Mihawk has been up with your daughter, soothing her as she experiences her leap weeks. You spend some moments with your husband as he holds her in his arms.

Sapsorrow: (8/10 Series)

The two wards of Dracule Mihawk and his green-haired apprentice stumble across a large collection of treasure in one of the large and ornate wings of Castle Kuraigana. The central object in the room is a embroidered pillow, a small circlet of intricately carved gold lay in the middle.

The three of them begin fiddling with it, it becomes stuck on the green-haired swordsman's finger. A struggle occurs, the ring slips from his finger and a large bell-like tinkle rings against the marble floor. Perona frantically tells the Ward to get it before it's noticed. She stoops, finds the ring and slips it on for safekeeping.

Mihawk, stumbling across the three of them, accuses them of toying with the object. His eyes widen as his focus shifts to the ring fitting perfectly on the appropriate finger of his ward.

"Whom so ever fits the ring becomes wed to the warlord who owns it."

Macule Drihawk (drabble)

When Dracule Mihawk drinks, he becomes an entirely different person. That person's name is Macule Drihawk.

Red Haired Shanks:

Dancando Lambada (one-shot)

After your ship crashed just off the coast line of your hometown, your friend: the bride, is left without a Captain to perform her ceremony to unite her with her beau. Fortunately for you, you see a ship coming in off the coastline. Will their captain help you in exchange for a night of good food, fine drink and sensual dancing?

Remember Me (one-shot)

Ten years since the love of his life was claimed by the sea, Shanks finds himself celebrating her memory with many a drink in a fishing village. Spluttering over his amber ale, Benn Beckman pales in freight at the sight of a woman drinking merrily at the bar. But it couldn't be her, she was lost to him.

Where is my bride (Sapsorrow Spin Off Drabble)

Once lost, again found: Shanks has accidentally bcome lockd into a cruel plot to have him marry a woman he has never seen nor heart of. The timer is ticking, the claws of the spectre of a woman scorned tethered to him and awaiting to claim his soul should he fail. He has seven days to wed. But where are you?

Two More Times (one-shot NSFW)

A meet up with a beautiful Captain has you feeling unworthy of being by Shanks' side as his partner. Shanks does not like being ignored - he wants to showcase his pretty girl sat on his knee. He reminds you of your importance to him, while punishing you for behaving like a brat. His brat.

Drabbles & Headcanons:

Shanks Likes to Dance HC Drabble

Sir Crocodile:

My Favorite (Sir Crocodile x Reader)

Sir Crocodile has founded a league of highly trained assassins named "The Choirs" - all coded after the nine choirs of angelic influences. You are his favorite: his prized "Seraphim" who's ferocious brutality is only outmatched by your incredible beauty. Not truly knowing if your affection is all an act to continue being paid a wage in berry, he has not made a move of his own aside from calling upon you to sit on his knee of an evening, and have you utter praises into his ear. It is only when the two other members of the Cross-Guild begin flirting does he find his limit being tested. Will he bend, or will he break?

Sands of Time: Intentions of Series

Sir Crocodile thought he was safe from the intentions of the haunting Sapsorrow Queen. His soul has been laid claim, his time is running out. How can he have a stranger fall in love with his within the year? Would she truly take his sould should he fail?

When We Wake (one-shot)

Blissfully waking within the arms of your lover, you are both struck with the thoughts of how precious you have become to one another. Whispering confessions of adoration to one another while the other slumbers, you are both completely overcome with such deep devotion.

The Duality of Sir Crocodile (NSFW drabble)

The duality of a dominating gentleman. Spoiling and endearing, encumbering and brutal.

Benn Beckman:

When You Had The Chance (one-shot)

Serving as first mate to the Buggy-Pirates, it was your job to keep your captain grounded and uplifted. When tempers flared, he decided to confront his childhood rival once and for all - pulling out all the stops to finally lay their feud to rest. One of them would be leaving with their life, the other fallen at their feet. Instead of stifling his fury, you decided to elevate your captain’s wrath: seeking vengeance of your own against the man who once cast you aside after you confessed your feelings for him. Crew against crew, Captain against Captain, First-Mate against First-Mate - will you win, or lie at the mercy of the man you once loved.

"Mister Beckman" (one-shot)

The first mate of the Red-Hair pirates is attempting to relax and enjoy his evening with you, but is rudely interrupted by Shanks' tinkering and clanging within the Captain's quarters.

Kind And Gentle (One-Shot)

Your shoulders and back ached with a pain you had attempted to cast aside as you went about your duties. The ache turned excruciating, your focus now being taken hostage between the gripping pain. Fortunately, the grip of two firm hands found your body and eased you through the torment.

You shot a baby? (Dialogue)

Part 2 (one-shot)

Benn Beckman shot Eustass Kid's arm off. You are not happy about it.

Donquixote Rosinante:

Despiértame mi Corazon (Dance Series) (Gift One-Shot)

You have been on the run from Donquixote Doflamingo, sheltering and caring for a young, sick child. Your emotions catch up with you as you process the change your life has led you to. You’ve left it all: family, career, friends - all to support Rosinante in his quest to cure the boy. Upon seeing you in this state, your Corazon will do anything to see you smile again.

Donquixote Rosinante's Journey with Modern Slang (crack dialogue)

Mild background context: Law's skills as a doctor saved a person with the devil-fruit with the ability grant a single wish. Law used that wish to bring back Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante as he was: lying in the snow and unresponsive. He wanted the chance to use what he's learnt to save him, and save him he does. Both now in their 20s, Rosi is adjusting and attempting to learn the current slang to relate to his grown son.

Rosinante's Trip Down Under (one-shot)

Modern AU, Rosinante visiting your hometown in Queensland Australia. He is overwhelmed by the cultural differences, but loves to learn the slang.

Donquixote Doflamingo:

Pretty Red Ribbon (one-shot)

After your birthday was ruined last year at the hands of a certain pink-feather-donning, glasses-wearing gentleman who you love to hate, your fellow warlord, Sir Crocodile, gives you a little gift you did not expect to darken your doorstep.

Bogard:

The Break is Never Easy (Dance Series) (request) (one-shot)

You were invited as an artist to showcase your work at the bi-anual ball thrown for the marines. A decade has passed between you and your severance from your ex-fiance, old flames reigniting as tension builds throughout the night.

Misc Drabbles:

You're Angry at the Tall Men: Drabble (One-Shot)

He knows what he did to earn your wrath; your fury ignited in your eyes and the flames physically tangible and searing the room with your scorn. Your brow was furrowed, your lips curling into a snarl to bare your pearled teeth at him. Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Corazon, Doflamingo.

An Affectionate Embrace: Drabble (One-Shot)

Forehead Kisses (short drabble)

You're being a brat because they're neglecting you. Prepare to be greeted with the forehead kiss you crave from them.

Zoro, Crocodile, Kid, Killer, Beckman, Mihawk

Interrogation (crack dialogue)

Cross-Guild crack dialogue x reader.

"A little bit bolder"

Chef Zeff:

Honey Glazed (one-shot)

After completing the closing shift of chaotic energy aboard Baratie, conversations turn into flirtations as the chef's hold a completely hypothetical conversation regarding how to adequately prepare and cook-with human. The front of house manager offers her body to be the central focus for the fixation of the chef's unhinged thoughts. Zeff does not shy away from a flirtatious challenge.

Monkey D Garp:

Bonnie Lass: Part 1, Part 2(NSFW) (2/2 Series)

As the assistant to one of the warlords of the seas, it is your task to man the small den-den-mushi earpiece assigned to Mihawk: managing his assignments, scribing the notes of importance. As the receiver drones on, you answer the call and are greeted to the familiar brogue of the Vice-Admiral you had not yet met face to face.

1K notes · View notes

bookshelf-dust · 7 months

Text

kiss it better

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3,176

warnings: swearing, sick fic (sorta), steve not taking care of himself, anxiety, stress, mental breakdown?, best friends to lovers deal (let me know if i missed something)

a/n: hi! it’s been awhile. i’m sorry about that. this has been a very slow process for me. my mental health is shit, and that’s probably obvious. i hope it hasn’t seeped into this too much, but it probably will with the next few things i write. i apologize for taking so long to post, for disappearing, for not really making this the blog it once was. but i’m not the same person i was then. so we’ll see where this goes. i hope you enjoy this one a little. i love you.

————

The shrill sound of a phone ringing scares you awake, eyes flying open, heart pounding so aggressively you fear for a split second that it might burst.

You sit up quickly, enough so that you make yourself dizzy trying to get your bearings. You roll onto your side, and reach blindly across the edge of your nightstand, grabbing for the green plastic that’s shaking with the force of which it’s ringing.

You almost fall out of bed, just managing to catch yourself as you bring the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

Your voice comes out weak, thick with sleep and the longing for more rest. It startles you and makes you clear your throat.

“Hey, it’s me.”

The voice on the other line is even weaker than your own. It’s quiet.

“Steve?”

Your eyes find the alarm clock on your dresser, bright red letters telling you it’s just after one in the morning. You might be half-asleep, but you’re conscious enough that your heart rate picks up, registering that this isn’t when your best friend normally calls.

You hear him breathe, along with some shuffling. He’s nodding his head, but realizes you can’t see.

“Yeah. Listen,” he drags a shaking hand down his face. “I’m sorry to call so late.”

“Hey, it’s okay. What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”

He goes quiet for a moment, but you wait patiently for him to continue. He must be trying to get something out, and you don’t want to pressure him, or cause him stress in any way.

Steve huffs, frustrated with himself.

“I-I’ve got an insane headache, and we’re out of goddamn medicine. My parents were here, and my mom was hungover and I guess she must’ve emptied us out, but it hurts too bad to drive, and…” He trails off, breathing heavily.

His pause lends you a moment to process, and you decide to speak up. If his head is killing him, you know finding the energy to speak to you, let alone call, has to be draining. You wouldn’t want him to suffer anymore than he already is.

“Stevie?” you start, happy to hear a small hum that encourages you to go on. He registers what you’ve called him, something you don’t call him often, and his chest aches. “I’ve got some I can bring you. I think all the drugstores nearby are closed.”

You swing your legs out from under the covers, pushing yourself off the mattress. Pressing the phone between your cheek and shoulder, you pull on the pair of sweats slung over the end of your bed, trying not to bust your ass as you hop into them.

“Is anything else hurting you?” you ask, gently as can be.

“Honestly?” he responds. “I think I’m sick. I can’t be sick, can I?”

You stand upright once again, taking the phone firmly in your hand.

“I think even King Steve can get sick from time to time. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

————

Steve’s not sure you understand him. He can’t be sick. He’s got shit to do. He has a shift tomorrow, and he’s pretty sure Dustin needs a ride one day this week because Claudia is on a “girls trip.” He has to keep working on his college essay, because he’d told you he was almost done, but really he isn’t.

Steve doesn’t have the time to be sick. And he can’t have you ruining your own schedule to come and babysit him. He’s supposed to be the babysitter. Not the charge.

He should be able to take care of himself, but of course, the one time his parents come home they clean out his mediocre supply of medicine. Something he’s always stocked up on, given his tendency to get the shit beat out of him, or the nasty string of tension headaches that just won’t quit.

And his head is killing him. He has his palms pressed to his temples, trying (and failing) to dull the ache. There aren’t any lights on in the kitchen, where he’s sitting on the floor, back pressed to the cabinets.

He’s trying not to move too much either, because he’s dizzy. This probably has to do with the fact that he skipped dinner, feeling too nauseous to eat. Now that Steve is hungry, he fears he won’t be able to get up and fix anything.

Maybe you’ll be able to help, he thinks. But that voice is quick with a counter argument. No. I need to do it.

He perks up at the sound of the front door opening. “Steve?” you call out, careful not to slam the door or yell too loud. It’s also why you hadn’t rung the doorbell.

Steve raps his knuckles softly against the countertop, hoping it’ll be enough to clue you in. He can’t bring himself to shout right now. You follow the sound, taking the few steps toward the kitchen.

When your eyes lock on his figure, see the way the heels of his hands press into his eyes, you realize how young he looks. He almost looks small, legs pulled up to his chest, big, lanky body compacted as much as possible. He looks vulnerable. You’re sure he hates that.

“Hi, Steve,” you say, keeping your voice low.

He looks up at you, and his face splits into a sweet grin. He’s happy that you’re here, even if that voice is screaming at him, wanting to punish him for asking for help.

“Hey, honey.” You smile back at him, and his heart rate picks up. Sometimes he forgets how beautiful you are, and then you’re standing in front of him, snatching every last breath from his lungs.

You set your bag down beside him and reach out, brushing his hair back from his forehead. He feels a little warm, but not feverishly so.

You move away from him, grabbing a cup from the drying rack. You fill it up with water and crouch at his side. Steve takes the glass from you, head resting against the cabinet to watch as you grab him some medicine. You hand him a few pills, and he takes them quickly. If he doesn’t get this headache calmed down soon, he thinks he might just die.

Steve keeps drinking the water you gave him, and you push his hair back again, watching the way it curls around his ears.

He drinks about half of the water before he pauses, taking a deep breath. He looks at you then. It’s mostly dark in the kitchen, but the lamp on the table by the front door is on, so you’re a little backlit from it. Not to mention the moonlight seeping in from the window above the sink.

You look gorgeous. And you came over to take care of him. You got up, at one in the morning, and drove to his house, just because he asked you to. Hell, he hadn’t even asked. He hadn’t gotten the words out. But you’d known. You’d known exactly what he was trying to ask, and you’d offered your help with no qualms.

Steve’s nose starts to sting, and that pressure from behind his eyes—it starts to release. Before he knows it, his vision is getting cloudy, and he’s crying. He can’t be crying, can he?

You carefully remove the glass from his hand and move in between his spread knees.

“Steve, it’s okay. I’m here, and I’m gonna take top notch care of you.”

“I know you are,” he says, voice breaking. “But I should be able to do it myself. I always do it myself.” He presses his hands against his face, but you catch his wrists and gently pull them away.

You hold your arms out, and Steve practically falls into you. He buries his face in your neck. He can feel the warmth of your skin, the cotton of your sleep shirt. You smell like soap, that fancy conditioner you use.

One of your hands finds the base of his neck, nails scratching gently over his scalp, thumb dragging over the top of his spine. Your other rubs soothingly up and down his back.

“But the thing is, Stevie, you don’t have to.”

He’s not a loud crier. But he is sort of panicky, breaths coming quick and short, chest heaving against your own. “I know you’ve always had to do a lot by yourself, but you can ask for help, and you don’t have to punish yourself for it, either.”

You feel him nod against your collarbone. His hands are fisting the back of your shirt. Eventually, he pulls away, but keeps his eyes closed. He tries to keep his head turned from your gaze.

“Hey. Look at me.”

He does, albeit reluctantly. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, lashes clumped together and lips parted where he tries to suck in a good deep breath.

You reach up, fingers gently sweeping away the remainder of the tears on his face. He leans into your touch, and you let him. You lean forward and press a sweet kiss to his forehead. You’ve never done that before.

Steve recognizes that you’ve never done it before, even if it’s sort of fuzzy. Sure, he’s kissed the back of your hand and you’ve reciprocated, but he’s usually the one to initiate physical affection. You’re too shy most often, even if you ache to do it.

Fuck, he wishes he were a little more coherent right now.

“Can you stand for me? It’s late, and I think you need to rest.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sure.” Now that he’s thinking about it, getting in bed sounds so nice.

You stand first, and watch as Steve pushes off the floor, gripping the countertop on the way up to steady himself.

“Come on. The stairs are gonna be a pain.”

He reaches out for you, and you let him take your arm. He pads out to the staircase, and you watch each precarious step he takes, hoping he won’t get too woozy and trip.

By the time he finally makes it up there, he’s wrapped both arms around your waist and buried his face between your shoulder blades. You soften beneath his hold.

You walk slowly towards his bedroom, and he waddles behind you. You push the door open. “M’kay, Steve. Wanna change clothes and hop into bed?”

He pulls off of you and grabs hold of his dresser. “I’m not givin’ you a free show.”

You snort. “I’ll go get some more water and be right back.”

His grin fades. “Please be fast.” He doesn’t want you to go. He doesn’t want you to leave him.

“Steve, I’m practically The Flash.”

He laughs, pulling a pair of sweats and a t-shirt out of the drawer. Usually he’d sleep in less, but with you here he feels he should keep his modesty.

When you return, he takes the water from you, drinking it faster than he probably should. Steve feels like he’s had the shit beat out of him, and for once—he hasn’t.

You’d sat down on the edge of the bed, not noticing the way he’s staring at you. You look up when he sets the glass down. He drags both hands down his face.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He exhales. “I want you to stay here with me, but I don’t want you to get sick. The idea of you being on the couch, which is like, miles away, is driving me insane.”

“Steve?”

“Huh?”

“Can’t I just sleep on the futon?”

His eyes move towards the other side of his room where said piece of furniture is pressed against the wall. He’d bought it when group sleepovers became a thing after all they’d dealt with. Jesus, his brain really isn’t working.

“Oh. Yeah, honey. Just don’t want you to go far.”

You lean forward and push his hair back from his forehead. You’ll need to remember to take his temperature come morning.

“I’m not going anywhere, Steve. I promise. Not until you’re all better.”

————

When Steve wakes up, you’re not there. He starts to panic, thinking maybe he’d been too much, maybe he’d shown you a side of himself he shouldn’t have, that maybe you left.

But you return to his room just as he’s about to start looking for you. There’s a thermometer in your hand.

“Morning, sleepy boy. Are you coherent enough for me to check your temperature? Or no?”

He yanks the covers off of himself, and his shirt has ridden up. You catch a sliver of tummy before he sits up fully, and you miss it the second it’s gone.

“Hit me, I can take it.”

You roll your eyes but stick the thermometer under his tongue when he opens his mouth. When you pull it away, you’re happy to see he hasn’t got a fever. He was warm last night when you kissed his forehead, but you’re thinking it was from stress or just overheating.

“No fever. What’s buggin’ you today, Stevie?”

He flops onto his back, and his shirt rides up again. You mentally slap yourself for being so enamored by it. All your brain can compute is tummy. Steve’s tummy. “My head still, and my stomach. I feel like I haven’t slept in four years.”

His words snap you out of your reverie. “Four years? That’s incredible. When’s the last time you ate something?”

Steve stares at you for a moment, though it looks as if there isn’t a single thought behind his eyes. “Yesterday…morning. I think. Yeah, I had a banana.”

You stare back, rather appalled at his statement. “Steve.”

“Hm?”

“All you’ve had to eat in the past twenty four hours is a banana?”

“Yep.”

“Jesus christ. Get your ass up and come with me.”

Steve doesn’t move. Rather he watches you move, right out the door and towards the top of the stairs. You pause and turn around, crossing your arms.

He huffs. And then he slides down the side of the bed like a child before crawling up and following you to the kitchen.

Over the course of the next few hours, you manage to get Steve to eat, shower, and go for a short walk, weather permitting and all. He’s looking astronomically better than he did last night.

Steve sits opposite you on the couch, his socked feet in your lap. “What do you think my deal is?”

You rub your hand over his calf. “I think you just had a little bug. Or maybe you let yourself get too stressed out and your body couldn’t take it.”

He blinks. “Is that…that's not a thing? Is it?”

“When’s the last time you gave yourself a fuckin’ break, Steve? When you just took a day for yourself rather than worrying about who needs to go where, or if you’ll have to cover a shift? You have to take care of yourself, or this is the kind of shit that happens.”

“Being overwhelmed about your parents, not eating, worrying about that application, all of that is fucking with you. That headache was probably a stress headache. They’re killer. I want you to be healthy and comfortable, Steve.”

You exhale, and close your eyes. When you open them, Steve has sat up, scooting towards you on your end of the couch.

He might still be tired, but he can’t believe this. He can’t believe you. No one has ever worried for him in this way.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask.

He barely even registers your words, too busy memorizing every line on your face. You look so fucking beautiful. It almost makes him angry.

“I’m thinkin’ about how bad I want to kiss you.”

Your face starts to burn. You shove his shoulder. He looks at the place where you’d pushed, quirking a brow, but grinning nonetheless.

“What?”

“Steve, you can’t say shit like that.”

“How come?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“Best friends.”

“Well yeah, but best friends don’t say that to one another.”

His grin widens. He looks more awake than he has this entire time.

“Oh, but you haven’t said it.”

You blink. “Huh?”

Steve gets his voice up that little bit higher, doing a cheap imitation of you. “‘Best friends don’t say that to one another.’ Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but that implies you want a kiss too, doesn’t it?”

You drag your hands down your face and flop back against the arm of the couch.

“So you gonna say it, or what?” He’s shifted, and you can feel him hovering over you, but you refuse to move your hands.

“Of course I’m thinking about kissing you, Steve.” You suck in a breath and open your eyes, locking with his own. “But you’ve got cooties.”

Steve rolls his eyes before he backs up and yanks on your ankle so that you’re flat against the couch.

“You did not just lecture me about self-care just to tell me I have cooties. I didn’t even have a fever.”

“I didn’t even have a fever,” you mock, lowering your voice in what is quite possibly the worst impression of him you could do.

He’s quick about it. Almost stealthy, not that you’d ever boost his ego by telling him so. But his fingers are reaching for your sides, the tips dancing over your shirt, that tiny sliver of hip showing where it’s ridden up.

Steve is practically drunk off of your laugh. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and when he goes for your neck, when you tilt your head and trap his fingers between your cheek and shoulder, he thinks he could die.

You and your laugh. The fact that you drove over at one in the fucking morning, without even thinking about it, just because you care. That you stayed the night, listened to his pitiful thoughts, took care of him…it’s too much.

Never in his life did he think he’d find someone like you. Someone who makes him feel like he matters. You’d made him realize how smart he is, how capable. That he could do things for himself and not just to please his dickhead father.

You have made him whole.

He lets up when you start breathing extra heavily, only to tickle the underside of your foot before he quits, just to piss you off. You kick him in the side.

“I think a kiss from my very favorite person might be the best form of self-care there is, honey.”

You sit up. “Wow. King Steve really never died.” He raises his hands like he might tickle you again, but you catch them before he can do any damage. “Okay, sorry!”

Before he can register it, you’ve leaned in and pressed your lips to his. When he does realize, he lets out a surprised hum, and you can feel that smartass smirk forming on his face.

When you pull away, he whines.

“All better?”

Steve falls back against the couch, pulling you with him just to get that laugh out of you again.

“I’m healed.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#savannah’s fics #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington sick fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fluff

2K notes · View notes

buckybarnesb-tch · 6 months

Note

In your last post you said about Klaus getting turned on by watching the reader eat?

Could we have more on/about that in a separate one-shot if you have the time? 💕

One More Bite -Klaus M.

I combined this request with another one I had gotten in my PM’s for Klaus’ mate giving him a blowjob when he’s in his wolf form, so fair warning on that.

If that is something that the original requester isn’t okay with and you don’t want to read this, send me another request and I’ll write something else for you as I understand you may not want to read something like this because it’s for such a specific kind of reader I assume (even though I am one of those readers).

Warning: Severe Warning on this fic! This fic contains Smut while our favorite Hybrid is in his wolf form! Blow-Job warning! Klaus becoming aroused by watching his Mate eat food. Also brief mentions of a school shooting when talking about the Scream movie series.

Sitophilia: Arousal involving food

Don’t Like=Don’t Read

Dead Dove:Do Not Eat!

Klaus has no clue where it came from.

It started when he was in Alarics body in the lunch room, watching over his Doppelgänger and her friends was proving entertaining to him…until he saw her. Y/n was a friend of theirs that didn’t seem to be all that involved in their Supernatural affairs, blatantly ignoring them as they spoke about the immortal Hybrid that sat 2 tables away possessing their History teacher.

She was a beautiful girl, one of the sweetest the 1000 year old man had ever seen, he swore it was true with how kind and naive she seemed to be. Klaus felt the need to protect her and ensure her safety, swearing to himself he would leave her out of all of this but just as he was about to leave the lunchroom he found himself captivated by her once more. It took a bit too long to notice that he was staring at the girl as she ate her lunch.

Klaus had never really been fascinated by watching someone eat before and it was an odd thought all together, but he couldn’t deny his enjoyment at watching her…he also couldn’t deny the raging erection in his pants that he willed away as strongly as he could as he wasn’t in his pants or his body and he was Not dealing with that!

He had gone to the front office later that day, finding her file and reading as much about her as he could. Her name was Y/F/n, she was on the honor roll with mostly all A’s and a few B’s, he found her address as well as the fact that she is emancipated and living in that apartment alone. He looked more into that, finding out that her parents had died a few months prior (when Damon had released the tomb vampires) and she lived on money they left as well as what she made working in a movie theater in the next town.

He found himself hating the idea of his girl being forced to work a job on top of going to school and getting amazing grades, only to come home to an apartment all alone with no family and no real friends as that Scooby Gang doesn’t seem to be very close with her. Klaus can’t explain his feelings, his attraction, or why he wants to take care of her so badly but he knows he doesn’t want her working this hard so that she can be all alone and in pain.

Klaus ditched Alarics body as soon as he was able and while his witches were dealing with the things he needed for his curse, he made his way to the next town and into the little movie theater. He walked into the theater and up to the snack counter where she was sat, reading something on her phone before jumping up as she saw him.

‘Good afternoon sir, what can I get for you to make your movie experience better?’ She asked, a smile on her face as if anyone could enjoy this job everyday. He hated seeing the dark circles under her eyes that she tried to cover with makeup, he wanted to see her in a comfortable bed, sleeping as much as she needed, wanted to watch her enjoy breakfast in bed with the knowledge that she didn’t have to go to work or school or do anything other than be with him. He found himself staring down at her as he imagined feeding her that breakfast while his cock was still buried deep inside of her cu- ‘Sir?’

‘Sorry, lost in thought there.’ He chuckled and she did as well.

‘I do it all the time, no worries. Can I get you something to eat?’ He looked as if he was considering it before responding.

‘Actually, I would love to get you something to eat.’ She looked up at him confused and he thought it was adorable. ‘Would you like to see a movie with me?’ She was shocked by this, clearly, and didn’t respond very quickly. ‘What time do you get done?’ He asked as if he didn’t know it was in 5 minutes.

‘Oh, I’m done in about 5 minutes. I have to get home and study for a test though-‘

‘Aw, let yourself relax a bit. Let me treat you to a movie, you can get whatever you want to eat, and you can pick the movie.’ The blush that spread over her face was adorable and he loved every second of it.

‘Really? Even if I pick a chick flick?’ He nodded, seeing a coworker walking out to take over her shift. ‘Okay, I want to see 5 Nights at Freddy’s…let me go get changed.’ Her smile lit up Klaus’ whole world and he smiled as he watched her walk away, her cute little ass nearly on display in the short skirt she had to wear as a uniform. Klaus only waited about 5 minutes for her to return after getting the tickets (and experiencing the man’s shocked face as he bought all the tickets in the entire theater so that they would be alone), wearing a dark tank top and fluffy pajama pants. ‘Sorry about the clothes, I was prepared to go home and get in bed.’ She explained but he waved her off.

‘Not a problem, next time I’ll wear pajamas too. I’m Nik, by the way.’ He teased, seeing her eyes light up at the idea of a second date.

‘Y/n, nice to meet you Nik.’

‘Alright, what do you want to eat?’ This was a dine-in theater, and while Klaus remembered when theaters sold popcorn, soda and candy exclusively, he found himself happy about the idea of providing his girl a good meal and getting to watch her eat it.

‘Oh, I’ll just get a small popcorn-‘

‘You just got off work, you must be hungry. Please let me get you a meal? Anything you want, if you don’t choose I’ll choose for you and I’ll be forced to feed it to you.’ He teased, wrapping his arm around her waist to test the water of how she felt about him touching her and to his surprise she leaned into his side, allowing his hand to stay on her waist. She was attracted to him too, he could practically smell it, and it made the Hybrid truly happy to know that his girl at least liked him as well.

‘Fine, okay. Hey Kyle, can I get an order of cheese fries, please?’

‘And?’ She shot him a teasing glare before rolling her eyes.

‘And a large order of chicken tenders with extra honey mustard. And since we’re bending this guys wallet, I’ll also have a large chocolate brownie milkshake-with extra chocolate sauce…I hope you like chocolate cause I won’t drink all of that, it’s huge.’ Klaus just grinned as he handed over his card. ‘Wait! You’re not getting anything?’

‘A bucket of popcorn too, please?’ He ordered and she stared at him as he paid for the wildly overpriced food. He carried the popcorn, allowing her to drizzle butter all over it along with salt before they went and found their seats, a girl bringing Y/n’s food about 10 minutes later just as the movie started.

‘I can’t believe there’s no one else in here, especially this late.’

‘Is this a popular movie?’ He asked, genuinely having no idea what it’s about. Klaus hadn’t come here with any intention of watching a movie, he just wanted to be with his girl so to him, the movie didn’t make one single fucking difference.

‘Oh yeah, it’s based on a horror game that I loved, plus Matthew Lillard is in this so I want to see it desperately. People really believe that his character is just Stu from the Original Scream a few years after he “died”. Which he 100% didn’t by the way.’ He could see how sure she was of this and enjoyed her dedicated belief to a movie she clearly loved.

‘How are you so sure he lived?’ He wondered and she turned her body to him more, ready to explain her theory.

‘Okay, so he was supposed to be the killer in the third scream movie! He was cast and everything but they had to scrap the whole plot. It was going to be based on a school shooting but that was right as Columbine happened so they changed the whole movie. Respect for them not doing that, 100%, but it proves that canonically he is absolutely alive. I don’t really get the connection to this movie, but if people believe it then why not?’ He nodded along, enjoying himself as much she seemed to enjoy these horror plots.

‘You’re a horror movie girl, aren’t you?’

‘Yup. Which is weird cause I used to be terrified of all scary movies but now I love them. We should have a horror movie marathon, clearly you haven’t seen the Scream movies and if you haven’t seen them, what else haven’t you seen?!’

‘Most of them, I’m not much of a TV watcher. I mostly just paint in my free time, I’ve seen a few though. The one in the mask who tries to kill his sister.’

‘Michael Myers, Halloween.’ She said, instantly knowing what he was talking about.

‘The Hick who has a chainsaw and wears people’s faces?’

‘Leatherface, Texas Chainsaw Massacre.’

‘The demon people, one of them has pins all over his head?’

‘Pinhead, HellRaiser. Truly an amazing movie, probably one of my favorite plot lines.’ He was amazed at how she knew every one of these from just the simple descriptions, he knew they were probably popular but it was so cute how sure and excited she was.

‘And the guy with knives for hands.’ Her eyebrows raised as he said this.

‘I’m going to assume you mean Freddy Kruger from Nightmare on Elm Street as we’re talking about horror movies and not Edward Scissorhands which is a sad movie that ripped my soul from my body. It a great movie but it’s sad as hell. Why are people so mean to everyone just because they’re different?’ He shrugged at this.

‘People will always judge what they don’t understand, especially when it’s other people. It’s always been that way.’ He knew from personal experience and Y/n seemed to hear the emotion in his voice because she reached over and took his hand in hers.

‘People suck. Cheese fry?’ She offered, holding out the box and he took one, watching as she bit into a couple as the lights went down. He was thankful for his vampire vision as he leaned back into the seat and kept his eyes on her. She was fascinated by the movie but he was fascinated by her. Klaus watched as she ate, finally getting to watch her eat a meal that wasn’t a snack in a cafeteria. The idea that he had provided his girl food, a real meal (for seemingly the first time since he first saw her 3 days ago) was satisfying to say the least. He stared as she ate her fries, her tongue peeking out every now and again to lick the cheese from her lips, causing his cock to twitch every single time. The moan that came from her as she first bit into a piece of chicken had him fully hard and completely desperate, watching as her tongue licked the honey mustard from her finger, her lips wrapping around her thumb and sucking on it with a “pop” as she pulled it from her mouth. He was so lost in his thoughts as he watched her perfect little mouth, he didn’t even hear the words that came from it. ‘Nik? You okay?’

‘Hmm? Yes! Of course, I’m great…you’re so damn gorgeous, and it’s distracting.’ Her cheeks turned red as he said this and she couldn’t hide it from him.

‘You are really sweet…please tell me this isn’t some kind of weird joke.’ As she said this his mind was ripped from his fantasies, confused as to why she would think something like that.

‘What? That’s crazy, why would you-‘

‘You walked into a movie theater without a ticket, came up to the food counter and asked me out to then buy a ticket and buy me dinner. You’re either the oddest and luckiest man in the world considering I was finished my shift when you came in, or this was planned and someone put you up to it…I’m an 18 year old girl in high school on a date with a hot dude in his 20’s…you can at least imagine why I’m a bit skeptical?’ She looked sad and he hated that he had caused it…why is this girl getting to him like this?!

‘I’m sorry that you feel the need to be skeptical of someone asking you out. I admit, I planned to ask you on a date. I saw you yesterday and I thought you were lovely so I decided to ask you out, I thought taking you to a movie after work would be a nice idea, I also thought you would enjoy relaxing and watching a movie right after your shift-‘ A look of guilt overtook her eyes as she realized how much thought he put into asking her on this date and she felt horrible instantly.

‘Oh God…I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m a bitch! I-‘

‘No you’re not, relax love. It’s okay, I can see why you were questioning the situation. I want to take you out again, I enjoy you already and I admittedly enjoy feeding you.’ Her eyes widened a bit but she couldn’t turn more red than she already was.

‘Oh…okay? I-I can honestly say I haven’t heard that one before but it sounds nice to me.’ She joked as he reached out, picking up a French fry and feeding it to her, grunting as she wrapped her lips around the tip of his thumb to get the melted cheese off of his skin, taking her time a bit too much as she did this and Klaus couldn’t hold in his groan.

‘Christ Y/n, you’re going to be the death of me.’

Through the rest of their date Klaus enjoyed feeding his girl nearly all of the food he had bought her, her insisting he at least have some as well and he brought her home that night, pressing his lips to hers sweetly and deciding he liked that his girl blushed 90% of their time together.

It was 3 days later that he found out why he was so desperate for this girl more than any other in his entire lifetime.

They had been texting almost all day every day along with him visiting her daily, Klaus getting everything ready to break his curse and actually getting it done with some help from his annoying elder brother (after he tried to murder him) before running off into the forest, his wolf determined to get where he needed to be.

It was the first time in 1000 years that Klaus could hear his wolf in his head the way other werewolves could. In the almost month he had been a Hybrid 1000 years ago he had gotten used to him being there and the curse had taken that from him.

As his paws slammed against the dirt, sprinting through the forest Klaus couldn’t help but wonder where they were going and he quickly got his answer.

“Mate!” The voice he had so sorely missed, growled roughly.

“Mate?” He wondered, having heard the term before but knowing that werewolves finding their mates was extremely rare. Maybe because they were so far out of time if Klaus’ mate being alive 1000 years after his human life was an indication. “Y/n is my mate…no wonder I’m so drawn to her!” A happy feeling was bubbling up in his chest as he realized he had finally found his mate, something he had hoped could exist for him since he found out soulmates were real for wolves.

“Need Mate! Need Mate Now!” The aggressive growl was almost concerning to him as his paws slowed to a trot when he arrived at the home he had been visiting his girl in for the last few days.

“She’s going to be scared! We can’t let her see us-Stop!” He snapped, feeling stupid that he was literally shouting at himself.

“Mate Knows! Mate Not Stupid!” His wolf snarled, sounding offended by the idea that she didn’t know who he was. He scratched at the apartment door and Klaus tried to control his body, to run back into the trees and away from her when the door swung open and his Mate looked down at him in shock.

‘I have to be honest, didn’t see this coming Nik. I mean I got the whole “Nik-Klaus” thing, Elijah told us all your real name but…what exactly do you want me to do with this?’ She asked, clearly entertained by him showing up in his wolf form. He whined, scratching at the doorframe which made her chuckle. ‘Okay, you can come in Niklaus-oh, okay.’ He walked into her apartment before she was even done speaking, hopping up onto the couch and staring up at her as if waiting for something to happen. ‘I seriously thought your interest in me was a joke when I realized who you were. Damon was making fun of me for falling for it…you’re actually into me, aren’t you? Cause I figure you being here right now means either you really like me or you plan to rip me to shreds in my own home. Which is it?’ She asked him and Klaus rolled his eyes, laying his head onto her lap when she sat down beside him on the couch. ‘Oh…good…I could get used to this.’

For the rest of the evening Klaus lounged on Y/n’s couch with her, watching horror movies from the extensive list that she had made of “Horror Movies Nik Needs to Watch”. He also enjoyed once again watching as she ate her dinner, or his personal favorite, watching her eat a pint of ice cream. God, he wants her tongue on his cock so badly, which she noticed as it was on display and larger than one would expect. To her credit, she ignored it for quite a long time, pretending it wasn’t there until the voice in his head made it physically impossible any longer. He was talking about all the different ways he wanted to bend her over and fuck her tight little cunt until she was begging him to stop, practically drooling over how her tongue peeked out and licked the ice cream off of the spoon, desperate to watch her lick his cream off of his hard cock which is around the time his member began leaking onto the blanket underneath him on the couch.

‘Nik?’ She questioned and he lifted his head from her lap to look up at her, as if pretending he hadn’t been staring at her this whole time. ‘Do you need help?’ He tilted his head as if asking her what she meant…she couldn’t possibly mean- ‘Do you need help with your…problem? It’s distracting and it seems to be getting worse.’

At this moment Klaus is happy that he is not just a vampire, but also in his wolf form and unable to show her how embarrassed he is with a look on (what would now be) his completely red face. He couldn’t stop the slight whine that escaped him before jumping down from the couch and trotting over to the door, scratching the wood and waiting for her to release him. “Let Mate Help!” That aggressive voice piped up again and he tried to shove it back down.

‘I didn’t mean I wanted you to leave, I…I mean if you wanted me to, I…it would have to be really fucking private, I mean if you ever told anyone I would skin you alive!’

Klaus suddenly felt his tail come to life, wagging around behind him like crazy as he released a small “yip” sound, moving back over and hopping up onto the couch again, nuzzling his nose against her cheek.

‘Ahh! It’s cold and wet!’ She was giggling and it was a sound that Klaus knew he adored from the moment he first heard it in the schools cafeteria. ‘I hope you realize that when you’re human again, I want an explanation as to why watching me eat gets you so worked up.’ She teased, moving from the couch to her knees. ‘Are all wolves cocks this big, or is it a werewolf thing?’

“Perfect Mate! Pretty, Perfect Mate! Need to Fuck Mate!” Klaus shook his head quickly as that thought came from nowhere, trying to keep his wolf from controlling anything else when suddenly his cock was enveloped into her hot mouth causing the pathetic sounding whine that exited him.

Her lips were stretched wide around his thick member as he now leaned back against the couch, wanting desperately to hold onto her hair but knowing that he can’t. He settled for one paw resting on the back of her head and couldn’t hold back the growl that burst from his chest, her tongue trailing over the head of his cock which nearly made him finish laughably fast.

You could have never convinced Klaus that this would be something that he wanted, in 1000 years the thought had crossed his mind, of course, but it wasn’t something that really got him off until now. Now, rutting into his mate was all he could think about like it was playing on a constant loop in his mind. As he looked down and saw her on her knees in front of him a content purr built up in his chest. He didn’t know how deeply he had longed for his mate, maybe if his wolf hadn’t been bound from him, he would have.

His thoughts were cut off by the choking noise that came from her as his large cock hit the back of her throat. “Perfect Mate! Perfect Little Tongue!” The growl that exploded from him made her eyes widen in fear before he was cumming in ropes into her mouth, her hand coming up to catch what leaked from her lips.

‘Fuck!’ She cursed after swallowing everything he had to give and looking up at him, as if an innocent little virgin who hadn’t just sucked his wolf cock into next year. ‘Do all werewolves cum that much?’ She giggled and he whined in response, leaning forward and licking her face. ‘I’m not doing that again until you prove how good you are in bed as a man first.’ She was teasing him but he nipped at her throat, catching the skin and watching a drop of blood rise to the surface. ‘Ow…shouldn’t you be out slaughtering innocent humans right now?’ He shook his head, which he’s sure looked like a dog shaking off the water after being in the rain. ‘But that’s what you were going to do before finding me?’ He didn’t respond to this, simply moving to lay down across her lap as she sat back on the couch. ‘It’s okay, I’ll still be here when you’re human again, go.’ He peeked up at her, from this angle the light made her look like an Angel sent from Heaven, as if a gift just for his devilish soul.

“Stay Close! Never Leave Mate! Never Again!” He really hopes that once he fucks his mate and makes her his that his wolf will calm down about her, he may be right but he’s intense.

‘Go Nik, I’ll be right here when you get back, I promise. I have nothing to do tomorrow, I will stay until you come and get me. When you do we’ll order take out and you can stare at me while I eat it.’ He sat up, making a questioning noise that he honestly didn’t know he could make. ‘I Promise.’ She insisted, jumping up and opening the back door towards the woods. ‘I won’t leave, I won’t open the door for anyone either. Get, before you get needier and decide to hump me in my sleep.’ He did as she said, leaving out the back door and taking one final look at her before he was gone, running through the woods as he had always longed for, every day of his immortal life since it was snatched away from him and for the first time in his very long life, knowing that he had someone to come back to.

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

1K notes · View notes

inuyashaluver · 5 months

Note

could you write a fic for either alessia or mlt where she’s sick but being stubborn about it in front of everyone at training, until you both get home and she goes all soft and clingy with you

you’re sick - alessia russo

alessia russo x reader

description: in which your stubborn girlfriend insists she’s not sick and swears she’s fine to go to training, as soon as you both get home, she crumbles

warnings: slightly angsty? swearing

a/n: hiya!! i decided to go with lessi on this one because i literally have a maya sick fic coming HAHAH, ENJOY❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

if there was one thing to know about your girlfriend, alessia russo, it was that she was extremely stubborn. whether it was in football, arguments or her own health, she was stubborn, something that you alone always had to deal with.

alessia had dragged you to bed extremely early last night, claiming that she was just really tired. you believed her until she pushed you on the bed and completely laid on top of you. she hides her face in the crook of your neck, her hands went under your shirt to rest on the skin of your back, she was really warm. she places her entire weight on you but you didn’t mind, you love her clingy side.

you woke up first to the loud blaring of your alarm, alessia snuggles closer to you and groans into your neck, she was still warm. “grumpy this morning, lessi baby?” you slot a hand through her hair, gently scratching her scalp with your nails. she hums at your contact and places lazy kisses on your neck in appreciation. she doesn’t reply, instead she moves up to straddle your waist and looks down at you with a frown.

“you okay?” you look up at her with a teasing smile, you run your hands over her thighs comfortingly, she leans down to place a kiss on your lips, you smile up into her, she cups your face with her hands and returns the grin in the kiss. though, when she presses her hands to your cheeks fully, you wince and gently push her from you,“baby, you’re really hot” she hovers over you with a gentle smirk, “you’re really hot” she says with a wink and you shake your head.

“alessia” you say sternly and she sits up again at your glare. moving off you to sit cross legged beside you. and that’s when she cracks, she sniffs. she fucking sniffs. alessia russo is sick. you sit up quickly and hold your hand to her forehead, tutting at her. “alessia, you're sick” your stern expression never leaving your face. “i am not! and stop calling me alessia” she whines, grabbing your hand in attempts to ease you up. you almost crack and have to clear your throat to stay composed.

“lessi, you’re staying home, i’ll take the day off training too and we can stay here” you lean over to grab your phone but alessia grabs both of your hands and presses you to the bed, “baby, sarina will kick us out of the squad!, it’s the world cup please don’t” she pleads, pressing you into the hotel bed with her arms and hips.

“she would never do that baby, you’re too amazing” you pause “oh and alessia, you’re sick” you go to move up but her grip on you is extremely tight. “(y/n). i. am. not. sick.” she emphasises each word sternly, you do understand why she was upset you first named her, but you were pissed, her stubbornness driving you insane.

“alessia. you. are. sick.” out of anger, she places her lips on yours again, somehow trying to convince you that she wasn’t sick, “woah, baby, you’re heating up, are you sick?” alessia says against your lips, you shake your head at her and push her off you.

“fine! we’ll go to training” you look at her with your hands on your hips, you were dressed only in her shirt, “you’re so sexy, baby” you point a finger at her warningly, “don’t try me, russo, i’m getting changed and we’re going.”

she winces when you slam the bathroom door, she got last named, that hurt. she got dressed quickly, sitting on the hotel bed and waited for you. she was pissed but she would never leave without you, even when she was feeling stubborn.

you come out of the bathroom with a frown, glancing at her slightly red nose and pink cheeks. she was sniffling while scrolling on her phone. your heart softens at the fact that the girl waited for you.

you wordlessly walk up to her and pull her up by the hand, gripping her wrist and taking her down to the meeting point before getting on the bus. once you saw ella, you push alessia towards her and walk away towards the small coffee stand at the hotel lobby, seeing your close friend esme and walking up to her.

ella was shocked by both yours and alessia’s appearance, you both looked pissed. “trouble in lover’s paradise, less?” alessia glares at ella, “don’t fucking try me right now, tooney” she says with a sniff and a slight cough. alessia kicks at the ground, she just wanted her girlfriend right now, slightly regretting agreeing to training and wishing she would have listened to you and stayed in bed.

“you’re sick, aren’t you?” ella teases, alessia slaps her arm, “i’m not sick!” she begins to argue with her best friend.

that’s when she feels a gentle hand on her shoulder, she looks down to see you with a cup of tea in hand. you extend it out to her and she takes it with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. your eyes trace over her face worriedly. “thank you” she whispers, you gently smile at her, placing a quick kiss on her cheek. “come and find me when you’re not being stubborn” she can’t help but let out a little giggle and places a kiss on your forehead with a scoff, trying to hide the smile forming on her lips, not going unnoticed by you.

“sit next to ella, i’ll sit in front of you” she pouts slightly but nods at you, knowing you hated when she was stubborn and wanted to give you some space. you both get situated on the bus, you sitting with esme in front of ella and alessia. you sit in the aisle seat in front of your girlfriend, you could hear her sniffing and coughing from behind you and you put your hand out behind you, she immediately grasps your hand tightly as you hold her from the back of your seat.

you gently run your thumb over her hand comfortingly, you were being so sweet despite her stubbornness, she wanted to cry. you let go of her hand when you feel her grip loosen. you peer over at her from the top of your seat, ella and alessia had both fallen asleep. you grin at them, taking a photo on your phone and turning back to sit back down to chat with esme for the short time left.

—

you keep your eyes on alessia the entire time during training, she was with ella during drills. a couple of the girls kept coming up to you to inform you that alessia was sick, all you could do was sigh and nod, thanking them for telling you what you knew all too well.

you kept looking at her with raised eyebrows when she coughed or sniffed, she would look at you with a scowl, “i’m not sick!” if you had a dollar for everytime she said this today, you’d be a millionaire. you would just nod your head unconvinced, to humour her.

sarina even came up to you and asked if alessia was sick, you glanced over at her and she shook her head at you desperately, “no no, it’s just cold, isn’t australia supposed to be hot?” you laugh uncomfortably, sarina just smiles at you, knowing you were just protecting your girlfriend, she would text you later to tell you and alessia to have the day off tomorrow. she tells you to go back to training after seeing alessia’s panicked face.

alessia lets out a sigh of relief, she jogs over to you and hold on to your bicep, “thank you, baby” she smiles at you softly, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. you gesture at her to come close to you, “you’re sick, lessi” you say directly in her ear, she rolls her eyes and gives you a light shove, slightly grinning at you.

she was slowly starting to crack, she was sick and she knew it. you laugh at her brightly, reaching up to pinch her cheek playfully before returning back to your team drills.

the rest of training, alessia progressively got worse, she kept swallowing with a wince and clearing her throat all the time, coughing and sneezing. you stay near her, you keep subtly checking her temperature but pulling her down for kisses on her cheek and forehead, she knew what you were doing but she was appreciative you were letting her continue her facade.

—

you sat next to each other on the bus, you hold her hand as you rests her head on your shoulder, nuzzling into you.

you say goodbye to everyone, telling everyone you would see them tomorrow, you drag alessia to the room by her hand, she grips onto you tightly. her eyes were slightly droopy and feeling congested.

as soon as you open the door, you lightly push alessia inside, closing the door behind the both of you. “baby” she whines out, you extend your arms out to her, she immediately steps forward and hugs you tightly, you squeak as she lifts you up and puts you on the bed. she lies on top of you again, immediately putting her head in your neck.

you rub gentle circles on her back, “i’m sick” she mumbles out into your neck. you giggle softly, kissing her cheek, “i know, baby”. she slightly pulls back to face you, looking into your eyes, “i’m so sorry” she pouts, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“you don’t have to be sorry, baby” you move a hand to cup her face with one hand, “no training tomorrow, okay? i’ll call sarina” she nods begrudgingly, giving you a quick, soft kiss on your lips. you get her medicine and order some soup for her, nursing her back to health fairly quickly, she just had a little cold.

“thank you for taking care of me, baby, i love you” she smiles softly, you sitting on her lap as the two of you watch a movie. “i love you too, lessi baby” you grin at her cheekily, giving her a quick kiss but quickly pulling away to let out a sniffle “fuck” alessia sighs, “i’m not sick!”

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by ellatoone and 44,232 others

alessiarusso99: we’re not stubborn, we’re passionate

view all comments

yourname: yeah but you’re REALLY stubborn

↳ alessiarusso99: you’re stuck with me

↳ yourname: you’re lucky you’re cute

↳ alessiarusso99: you’re cute

ellatoone: i’d say you’re both delusional

↳ alessiarusso99: rude.

↳ yourname: rude.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader

509 notes · View notes

totheblood · 1 year

Note

i keep thinking about infatuated ellie.. like LOVESTRUCK, nervous, giddy ellie, and ik you’ll do her so much justice

a/n: ik this is from weeks ago but i'm writing some headcanons and would appreciate if u guys could send some more! i also need to note the ai audio i made of joel was inspired by my talented friend saz who had the idea to make a joel ai and have him and ellie interact, her fics are amazing and i believe she will be making her own ellie fic w a joel audio so pls folllow her and read her work! her @ is @dyk3ification also i wrote this in whole foods before my class so if it sucks... thats why.. ai audios at the end! also pls interact w me and my work it makes me so happy ily bye!

lovestruck!ellie headcanons

ellie is 100%, certifiably, and downright a hardcore lover to her core

when she’s crushing on you she is the type to take anything you do as a sign that you like her back

she’d be like “no, dina, but when she held the door she looked back at me and smiled… who does that?”

“polite people?”

or if you’re sitting next to her in class and she drops her pen, the minute you reach down to pick it up for her she’s imagining your future together

she would just secretly pine after you for as long as she can, way too nervous to work up the courage to ask you out

she’s the type to journal about you, draw you, think that it was weird, and rip it out of her journal

but she’s too sentimental to throw it away so she’d just tuck it into a box in the back of her closet

she’s so observant about the things you do

just by sitting next to you, she knows your favorite movie, your favorite place to eat, and your favorite flowers

(she writes all of this down in case she one day works up the courage to ask you out)

when you do finally start talking she would go out of her way to go to the things you invite her too

for example, you invited her to a GSA mixer (something she wouldn’t attend on her own) at a time when she was working

she called out sick just to attend and talk to you for a total of fifteen minutes

it’s totally worth it to her cause you hugged her twice (she counted)

she does insanely stupid shit like going out of her way to get you your favorite coffee from this very specific place half an hour from campus.

“oh, ellie you didn’t have to do this. thank you so much! let me pay you back.” you’re reaching into your bag looking for your wallet

“oh, it’s no big deal i was in the area,” she was nowhere close to the area. “and it didn’t cost that much,” it was an 8-dollar cup of coffee. “maybe we could go together sometime?”

ellie doesn’t even realize she’s asked you out by the time you’re agreeing with a huge smile plastered on your face

the date goes well, so you ask her on another and another… and another

before she knows it you’re her girlfriend and she can’t shut up about it

she’ll try to manipulate conversations just so she can say the phrase “my girlfriend”

she’s at the movies with jesse and dina and with every preview of a horror movie shes like, “oh, i think my girlfriend would love this movie.”

the barista at the coffee shop makes her latte too sweet and she’s all like, “i wish my girlfriend was here so i could give her this.”

she’s also the type to call you and find out where you are just so she could deliver you her very sweet latte that she knows you would enjoy

she’s also the type to brag about any accomplishments of yours to everyone

“oh yea, my girlfriend won some academic award. she’s such a genius.”

she’s the type to whenever you’re together she would just be staring at you and you’re like, “what?”

“nothing… you’re just so pretty. i’m so lucky.”

there’s not a day that goes by that she doesn’t make you feel like you put the moon and the stars in the sky

all of her weekly calls with joel have become her ranting about how much she loves you

“ellie, all you do is talk about this girl. when am i going to get the chance to meet her?”

“soon, i hope. i think you will really like her. she’s fuckin perfect, joel, i swear.”

“so i’ve heard.”

ai audios:

#asked & answered #Anonymous #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan fic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie williams one shot

1K notes · View notes

bombuni · 6 days

Note

Please I LOVE your puppy yunho drabbles 😭😭

Would love to hear your thoughts on puppy yeo 👉🏻👈🏻 I have such a soft spot for this boy but it's so hard to find yeo content 🫠

(possibly how yunho would respond to MC getting another puppy? Not sure if you write poly or not so no pressure!)

-lyra

contains: nsfw, puppy!yunho (in my head he’s a retriever hybrid) puppy!yeosang (doberman duhhh) switch!yeosang (but he’s really dom-leaning in this), switch!yunho, fem!reader, breeding, threesome, biting kink, voyeurism (kinda)

minors dni

I WENT A LITTLE OVERBOARD BUT. i. Thought this idea was so hot. thank u for even asking this bc OMFFG. And Dw I will write enough Yeosang fics to feed the UNIVERSE!!!!

Yunho’s not too happy about having a new guy in the house. He’s much quieter, pushing Yunho’s attempts at conversation away as if he’s too good for him. His nervous eyes follow his every move and his frost-colored, cropped ears pin his location wherever he is.

You swear he’s sweet to you. And Yunho’s seen it, he is. He sits next to you voluntarily, actually has conversations with you, touches you fleetingly.

You tell Yunho it’s only for a couple days. That Yeosang’s owner was traveling, and he needed a place to stay in the meantime. Yunho’s glad to hear it’s temporary, now cheerily spouting hello’s at Yeosang any time he sees him (still ignored.)

Yunho’s not too worried when you leave them alone to run errands one day. Of course he doesn’t want to part from you, but he understands the need for alone time. He doesn’t protest when you leave, but the door slamming shut and the silence that follows makes his stomach drop.

Gosh, sometimes he doesn’t realize how much he really needs and craves you. It’s like his body is so used to having you 24/7, the sudden departure just causes him to wilt and deflate. He sits on the couch, away from Yeosang, somberly. His chin rests in his hands, blankly watching the TV and counting the seconds until you get home.

Yeosang notices. He doesn’t want to say anything, but Yunho’s pouty lips are making something inside him stir. To Yeosang, Yunho is just a pestering pup. Always yapping and annoyingly sweet. He’s not used to being around someone as endearing as him, and he’s mad he’s falling for his tricks. Yunho subconsciously whines while he watches the clock, so used to you listening to his every beck and call.

“Quiet,” Yeosang mumbles, trying to comfort him, “She’ll be back soon.”

Yunho had almost forgotten about Yeosang. He rolls his eyes, “What do you care? You’re just a meanie,”

Yeosang snorts at the nickname, “I don’t. You’re just annoying.”

Yunho takes that as his sign to push more buttons, suddenly throwing himself onto the couch and laying his head onto Yeosang’s lap, “I’m soooo bored, Yeosangie, let’s do something.”

Yeosang grumbles, but makes no move to leave, “Get off of me, mutt,”

Yunho laughs at that, “You’re one to talk,” he stretches his arms casually, as if this is an everyday occurrence, “Why don’t you make me?”

Yeosang stews for a few seconds, pouting to himself because of his predicament. Yunho has forgotten the whole thing, back to watching the boring program selling pretty diamond earrings.

Ah. That reminds him of something.

Yeosang’s hand crawls sneakily from his side to Yunho’s head, making no sound before harshly pulling on one of Yunho’s brown, floppy ears. A yelp comes out of Yunho as his head follows Yeosang’s directions, the sound turning into an embarrassed moan.

Yunho flushes at that. He’s embarrassed because he thought the only one who could pull those noises out of him were you. He feels like a slut for wanting more.

Yeosang is smirking cockily down at him, a smaller blush on his face, but his hand remains on Yunho’s ear, “See? Dirty mutt,”

Yunho’s cock stirs at that. He enjoys the game of punishment, and his voice trembles in anticipation, “‘M not-“

The door suddenly unlocks and it blurs the lines between what’s happening and you. He’s excited at the thought of you finding him like this. He wants to prove to you both what a good boy he can be.

You turn once your bags are put away and Yeosang watches in real time as the perverted smile on your face grows when you process what’s happening.

“My sweet puppy, what did you do to Yeosangie?” You coo at Yunho, leaning on the arm of the couch with a sweet smile.

You’re so sweet and soft and it makes Yunho want to explode on the spot, “N-nothing-“

Yeosang tugs at Yunho again, “That’s a lie.”

You tsk, your hand coming up to trace Yunho’s jawline and god, he really wanted you to touch him already, but that’s not enough. It’s never enough.

“I’m sorry for my puppy’s misbehavior,” you turn to Yeosang, “I think just for that, he doesn’t get to cum.”

Yunho’s eyes widen at that, “B-but I’m good! I’m being a good puppy!”

Both you and Yeosang give him an incredulous look and he knows there’s no way he’s winning. He hardly does with just you.

He whines pitifully, but he sits back and shuts his mouth in obedience. He knows he’s winning with you when you give him another soft, lovesick smile. But, Yeosang just stares.

Before Yunho can say anything, Yeosang is pulling you into his lap and marking you as his own. His lips trail from your jaw to your collarbone, back to your mouth. It’s intoxicating, watching you both lose yourselves to each other. Yeosang licks a stripe between your neck and shoulder and it sends a shiver down Yunho’s spine.

The room is suddenly too hot for Yunho, his hands and skin yearning, burning to feel any sort of touch from either of you. But, it never comes. He sits, whines, and watches as Yeosang keeps his tongue down your throat. He can’t help it when one of his hands flies down to his aching cock, trying to soothe the urge to pound you until you’re full. Like he usually does.

Yeosang sees out of the corner of his eye, “Don’t.”

Yunho’s eyes brim with tears. He’s shaking, trembling, fucking aching, to feel something (you) and he’s being denied. He can’t take it. To rub salt into the wound, Yeosang bites down on the same spot on your neck he licked, making direct eye contact with Yunho. You moan and thrash against Yeosang, your hiss of pleasure and pain hitting Yunho’s nerves like it’s him who’s being bitten.

“S-sangie,” your tone is all too familiar, needy and desperate and ready to be fucked dumb by his leaking cock. Yunho wants to, needs to, run to you and fill you up already, but Yeosang won’t let him.

Yeosang pulls your pants down hastily and as soon as your garments off, your sweet smell fills the room. It’s something Yunho will never get used to and something Yeosang is now newly addicted to.

Yunho doubles over at the intoxicating smell, his heightened senses making it just about x100 worse for him, “Please, I just wanna- please let me-“

Yeosang pushes Yunho off the couch, forcing him to sit besides your head and watch as Yeosang’s cock finally enters you. God, you’re wet and creaming on his cock as soon as he fills you to the hilt. Yunho can’t stop watching as your pussy sucks Yeosang in time and time again, even if he’s throbbing in pain because of it. It’s something he can’t look away from.

Your tits bounce against Yeosang’s harsh thrusts, both of your moans mixing and making a song Yunho won’t forget. You turn to look at Yunho, all fucked out, and your hand comes out to Yunho like a beacon of light. He groans lowly when he finally, finally feels the relief of your hand scratching behind his ears. It feels too good, too appeasing, too delightful to have your approval again that he almost wants to cry.

Yeosang keeps fucking you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, “What a pervert, fucking leaking everywhere,” Yunho nods feverishly against your hand, not ashamed of the wet spot forming on his sweatpants, “Why don’t you come play with her while I fuck her then?”

Yunho wastes no time in leaning over you and finding his way to your clit. Long fingers spread your juices over you, already familiar with the way you tick. His forefingers rub at your center feverishly, mouth agape and eyes trained on Yeosang’s cock pistoning into you.

You moan and thrash against Yunho’s fingers, all of the attention on you is too overwhelming. Too good.

“Sh-shit,” Yeosang feels you tightening up against him, driving him to fuck you even harder to fill your sweet hole up faster. His voice passes through you like a thunderstorm, soft but fierce with an underlying, dangerous current.

Yunho smirks up at Yeosang, fingers still continuing their quick pace, “You gonna cum? Hmm? Feel how fucking tight she gets?” Yeosang’s hips stutter, his hands shaking against your skin, and god, he doesn’t want this to end, but he really, really wants to take you all for himself and fill you so everyone knows you’re his.

Yunho leans up to Yeosang, hot breath fanning against his ear and sending chills down his spine when his gentle hand runs along the fur of it, “Go on. She wants it all,” the retriever turns to you, “Don’t you, pup?”

You nod but Yeosang doesn’t take that for an answer, “Tell me how bad you want my pups,”

Your hands tremble against Yeosang, “S-so bad, Sangie, please, want you to fill me up.”

The idea of you swollen and heavy with their pups spurs them on. They both let out a shaky breath, before Yeosang fucks you harder than ever before and Yunho leans up to take all of your moans for himself. You can feel his hips grinding against the couch, the wet spot on his pants growing bigger and bigger. He’s your desperate, needy boy like always.

The sight of Yunho desperately and dumbly rocking his hips against whatever he can find and your tits bouncing is almost too much for Yeosang. He whines as he bottoms out inside you, his hips against yours attempting to reach the deepest part of you. You feel him coating your insides white, twitching inside of you as Yunho coos praise at you.

Yeosang is leaking out of you and there’s still more coming. You start to think he might’ve actually filled you to your capacity. Your body’s too hot now, looking down at Yeosang’s cock still balls-deep in you.

Yunho kisses the dreamy look off your face, “Such a good pup, milking Sangie for all he’s got,” his fingers card through your hair, “Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Sangie.” Your voice is trembling. Yeosang pulls out of you and the whine he lets out is completely involuntary. The sight of your cream-covered pussy is enough to get him ready for another round. He can’t get enough of you now, and he realizes why Yunho can’t be away from you for even one day.

You pipe up suddenly, “Yun, you didn’t get to-“

His tail wags frighteningly fast, “Oh no, I did. Twice.”

It’s hard having two insatiable beings tied to you, but you make it work.

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez fluff #ateez smut #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #yunho smut #kang yeosang #yeosang x reader #yeosang smut

166 notes · View notes

macfrog · 8 months

Text

ghost

when i wrote jet, she was always a two-parter to me. two characters, two horses, two stories. equal and distinct. you guys loved the first part so much that i figured i'd leave it as it was, but recently i hit 2k and thought this could be a cool way to mark it. think of this as jet's sister story. walks right alongside her; same universe, same joel - but still very much a standalone. she can be read with or without her predecessor. thank you a million times over for all the love y'all show me on the daily. writing for you guys is so much fun. love you all the most. 🤎🖤 dedicated to @hellishjoel whose love for this pair inspires me daily

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: your loyalty to joel - and your ability in yourself - are tested in st. louis. the reward might just be worth the risk

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) post-outbreak!joel, graphic violence, moderate threat, a horse is shot and killed (though i don't think i made this too graphic, more gutwrenching), reader and joel are separated, badass stealthy reader, near-SA (more intended than attempted), very protective & very violent joel, unprotected piv sex, like...bloodplay i guess? lil bit of consensual choking and spitting, creampie, possessive!joel, dom!joel but also softdom!joel, big fluff at the end, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), strong language. this fic is not sponsored by nike. lol.

word count: 10.1k

main masterlist

It’s been weeks. Weeks of just the two of you, shoulders brushing together, hips moving in stride. Horses parallel to one another, heads nodding in unison. The time you’ve spent without Joel since leaving the QZ amounts to a grand total of about ten minutes. What if something goes wrong? If he doesn’t cover himself properly? If you clear the building, come back, and you’re not only a horse down, but a partner, too? You’re standing by the hole in the wall, trying to convince yourself to duck under the bare brick when Joel’s urgent voice does it for you. “Go now. Now!” And you do.

St. Louis is quiet, still, but fruitless.

It’s been two long days of wandering around and you’ve found one building safe enough to camp in. One. The rest have either been inaccessible – boarded up, broken down, or otherwise already inhabited by infected – or Joel’s deemed them too close to the middle of town, too open, not safe enough.

Not safe enough in a world overrun by a brain-rotting fungal infection? you’d asked.

He shut you up with a sharp expression which you understood simply as: Enough.

It meant that you were wasting days, though. The night you arrived, Joel quickly combed the area surrounding the barber shop you were holed up in for supplies, and found none. He woke you at the crack of dawn next morning to set off, saying he didn’t like the fact nothing was around here. Meant someone had been through before you guys and taken it all.

Meant company, is what he was saying.

So you’d ridden around for – what, maybe three hours? You and Jet, following Joel and Ghost down cracked roads, under rusted street signs. Listening to the wind circle the buildings overhead, nudging traffic lights gently until they sang in distorted, off-key creaks to you. Always keeping your eye on the Gateway Arch between buildings, using it as some kind of north star – not for any reason other than you’d never seen it before up close, but when you mentioned this to Joel, his brows furrowed and he chewed on the inside of his cheek.

Which meant that no, you wouldn’t be paying it a visit anytime soon.

It was mid-afternoon when Joel pulled on Ghost’s reins, brought her to a halt, and held his hand out to you. Jet huffed to a stop, and you swear you felt her cock her hip angrily at him.

“Turn back,” he muttered.

“What?”

“I said, turn back. Ain’t nothin’ out this way.”

“Turn back ‘n go where?”

He jerked his head back in the direction you’d come, swerved the reins sideways and then clicked to the black-coated horse to set off. She nodded obediently, like she knew what he was thinking and she figured he was right, and began the long walk back to the barbers.

You muttered an expletive and Joel coughed a Ha, hearing you loud and clear. So you turned to silently praying for a rainstorm, for a horde of infected, for anything you could sling an I told you so in and whip it at Joel.

You followed him, though, deliberately a good few paces behind, knowing he’d keep twisting around to check on you, and letting him fucking do it. Asshole.

When you finally arrived back at your spot, the red sun low behind the buildings and bleeding skyward into twilight, you slept with your back to him.

He didn’t seem to mind. He never seems to mind when you’re distant. You wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t even notice. He knows you’ll come back when you need something from him – want his words in your ear, want his body on yours, want…him.

The splintered sunlight through the boarded-up windows of the shop stirs you from your sleep. It wasn’t much of a sleep, despite Joel’s promise late last night that he’d let you lie for a little longer; knew you had a long day ahead if you were to get out of St. Louis, and he’d already drained your energy with the travelling yesterday.

You’d woven in and out of unconsciousness all night, dreaming of creaky farmhouses with clicking children inside, their skin torn and swollen and sprouting in swirls of pale white, singed with raw red and rotten green. And you dreamt of Joel’s shotgun blowing their moldy maws apart, blood and bone splattering across the floral wallpaper behind them.

You’re lying on your stomach, flat out on the floor with nothing but a worn comforter separating your fatigued body from the dusty tile. Joel’s out front feeding the horses on the street. You push yourself up, stretching your back, and a red-hot pain licks around your wrists.

“Motherf–”

You wince, falling onto your elbows, and your fingers link lightly around the red skin. The marks from Joel’s belt two nights ago still haven’t eased, haven’t cooled down so much as a degree. They’re still glowing, still burning, still painful.

Joel’s rugged face appears through a busted window. “Y’alright?”

“’m fine,” you mumble, turning over and examining the sores in the sunlight. The sting as your fingertips trace over the skin draws sharp tears to your eyes.

He feeds Jet the last handful of the hay you’d stocked up on and steps in from the golden morning to the dim light of the shop, dusting his hands on his jeans.

“You want more water on ‘em? Cold flannel?” he asks, avoiding the sight of your pained hands.

You shake your head. “Don’t think it’s helping.”

Eyebrows close, crease between them deep, he lowers himself with an achy groan and says, “We’ll find somewhere. You ready to go?”

You nod, tight lips blocking any words you think you’d probably regret later.

Joel helps you up, hands you a bag of beef jerky from his back pocket, and tells you to go get settled on Jet. He’ll pack up.

As you walk by him, he runs a hand from the crown of your head down to the nape of your neck. Gentle as air. And you almost fucking turn back. Almost catch his hand as it leaves your hair, almost wind your body into his. Almost.

Almost.

You follow at Ghost’s tail for another two hours, this time west instead of north. Joel turns to check on you more than he did yesterday; asks a couple times if you need more water, if you want any food. Even asks once if you need a break.

Each time, you reply with a flat, No. It seems to come from your throat more than your lips, more a grunt than an actual rounded word. Teeth locked tight around it, barely separating to let the sound through.

And each time, Joel turns back wordlessly. A mutual understanding; an unspoken agreement – as most of them are – to not talk any more than absolutely fucking necessary.

You spend most of the ride hunched over, your palms pushing heavily against the horn of Jet’s saddle. The sleeves of your jacket rolled up to stop them from brushing against your wrists.

The horse whinnies softly, and you reply to her as though she’s actually speaking. As though you can understand her thoughts, your forehead pressed lightly to the crest of her neck. You tell her you’re fine; tell her she’s doing a great job. You notice Joel’s jaw turn whenever you speak to her.

And then he whispers, “Hey,” and you lift your head, following the flick of his head to a tiny, lone pharmacy up ahead. You could fall off Jet’s back in equal parts shock and relief.

Joel winds Ghost along the road towards the building, stops by the curb outside it.

Its windows are smashed, broken glass decorating the sidewalk in front. There’s dried blood painting the white stone exterior, and empty shell casings dotted along the paved ground. You draw your eyes from the sight to look at Joel, and he’s already noticed them. He’s staring around the street, eyes darting from building to building, looking them all up and down.

The back wall inside the pharmacy is blocked, rubble and rafters hanging loose from a huge hole in the ceiling. Dusty insulation hangs between beams, and through the tears in the candy floss material, you can see the metal grate of the dispensing area. Joel sees it, too; notes it with a grumble and a click of his teeth.

“You stay here,” he tells you, dismounting Ghost.

“’n what if you get stuck in there?”

“Stuck in front of the collapsed ceiling? I ain’t gettin’ anywhere close to bein’ stuck. Stay put.”

You slide to the side, rubber-toed sneaker angling toward the ground to jump off of Jet. Joel swings back around and shoots you a look like fire on your skin.

“You got a death wish, or som’?”

“You just said you won’t get stuck. The hell’s gonna kill me in there?”

“Me, if you don’t listen to my damn instructions. Get back on the horse.”

“I ain’t off it,” you snap, a little louder than you intended. Sure, you want him to comfort you sometimes, but fuck, he pisses you off.

Joel stalks off without another word, head low between his shoulders. You hook your foot back into the stirrup and shake your head, averting your gaze to the other side of the street where the sight of an ill-tempered man-child won’t piss you off more.

The street is lined with stores and cafes, a bar on the corner with torn-up leather seats spilling out of the door like someone’s barricaded it. Your eye travels further down, where faded, moldy bunting ruffles in the wind, hooked around a traffic light.

There’s a red-brick building directly across from you, a truck with green tarpaulin parked out front. The doors to the building creak as they swing back and forth in the wind. The windows are still intact – surprising for this deep in the city. Other than that, the place looks pretty damn abandoned.

Ghost shakes her head, ears flicking. A heavy, shuddered breath jolts from her flared nostrils in the form of two white clouds, lit golden in the sunlight. She moves from foot to foot. You pat Jet gently, distracting yourself with the feel of her long, ginger mane.

You hum quietly, filling an eerie silence. Something to the beat of your heart, quickening with each second. Trying to calm the horses, calm yourself. Joel’s still wandering around inside.

You read an article once before the outbreak that said horses can smell fear on humans. It was for a school project. Said it affected their nervous system, like, made their heartrate pick up, though they never concluded whether it made the horses more afraid themselves or not.

Feeling Jet’s body weight shift from side to side as you swerve around atop her, analyzing every movement, every sound, every change in direction of the wind on this street, you figure you know the answer now.

Yeah. She feels edgy.

The wind picks up, carrying leaves across the broken road, fluttering by burnt-out cars. There’s a scuff from the store and your head shoots back to find Joel emerging from the shadows.

“Nothin’,” he mumbles, giving the street a sideways look as he walks back over to Ghost.

“Nothing I need, or nothing at all?”

He lifts his hands to take hold of her. “Nothin’ at all. Place is ransacked. Whole damn city’s –”

It all happens in the blink of an eye. One minute you’re looking at Joel, watching his lips form the words, his fingertips coming to land on the leather strap of Ghost’s bridle, and barely a heartbeat later, there’s a deafening crack from across the street.

Ghost’s body falls to the earth like she’s nothing but an inanimate sack. Her front legs buckle first, her chest crashes down towards the smooth stone, and then she’s rolling onto her left side. She’s dead before she hits the ground.

Dust and dirt are thrown skyward as she slams down, head falling heavy and still on the sidewalk.

“Ghost!” you shriek, and then you feel Joel’s hands on the sleeve of your jacket – rough. Painfully squeezing, canvas burning against your wrists.

He’s gripping the material, hauling you down to him, only you won’t let go of Jet’s reins. You’re being tossed to-and-fro atop the now-panicking horse. Ghost is bleeding from her head; thick, dark blood spilling out like tar and dripping down the curb.

You scream at Joel, fighting his grip off, eyes never leaving the black horse. But then another shot fires, ricocheting off of the ground by the pharmacy window, missing his head by less than a foot, and you fall limp.

You let him drag you off of Jet’s back and hurl you inside the pharmacy, shoving you out of view and into the dingy shadows. When you turn, you realize she’s still out there, a chestnut-colored blur as she rears and spins, fleeing from the noise. You scream her name but Joel whips around and plants his palm flat against your mouth, smothering your cry into a muffled whimper against the curve of his calloused skin.

“Shut up,” he whispers, free hand reaching into his holster for his own gun.

You drag his hand from your face, dropping it. “Jet’s still out –”

“They ain’t aimin’ for Jet,” he replies, switching the handgun into his right. “They’re aimin’ for us, and they’re gonna be down here soon. I need you to listen to me.”

“But Ghost –”

“Baby,” he says, laced with frustration and desperation and panic. Your sentence falls flat on your tongue. “Listen – to – me. Now.”

You nod, tears forming in your eyes. The horse is still lying out front; you can see her past Joel’s shoulder. You think back to your agreement: Do as you say. He’s shaking you by the shoulders, forcing you to look him in the eye, repeating those words to you. Listen to him. Focus on him. Stay alive. You don’t survive this if you don’t wake the fuck up right now.

And then he has his hands either side of your face, shaking you back to reality. “Hear me?”

“What? No, I didn’t hear. I didn’t fucking hear!”

He wastes no time chastising you. Just says it again. Calm, clear. Every word its own sharpened shape.

“I need you to move, need you to get out of here. They’re across the street, in that red building. There’s probably a gang of ‘em, right? So we gotta take ‘em out.”

“Take ‘em out? We gotta fuckin’ run, Joel! We don’t even know how many –”

“You,” his voice sounds like he’s about to break, “are gonna head out of there.”

He points past you, behind an upturned shelving unit, where there’s a small hole blown in the side of the pharmacy. Unnoticeable from outside, though if the perps across the street have ransacked this place, they’ll know it exists.

“You’re gonna make your way around the street, head low, quiet, ‘n get in the back of that building. You got it?”

“What the fuck are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna distract ‘em. I’ll cover you, alright? Just do it.”

Just do it. Just fucking do it. I tell you what to do, and you just do it, because it’s me. Because you trust me, because we’ve kept each other alive this long.

Just do it. Because right now, what the fuck else are you going to do?

Your head’s still spinning. Pulse throbbing in your ears. Lungs hammering against your chest wall for breath. You can barely think straight.

“What do I do once I’m in?”

He’s kneeling down, swinging his backpack off of his shoulders. “Take – them – out. You’ve done it before, you know what you’re doin’.”

“Real noble of you, Joel,” you hiss, taking the spare gun he offers and slipping it under the back of your jeans, “sendin’ me in alone to kill who the hell knows how many fuckin’ guys.”

You pull the switchblade he picked up from that farm in Nebraska and flick it once, letting it glint fiercely in the light from out front, then close it and place it back in your pocket, ready to hand if – and when – you need it.

Joel’s loading his rifle, unable to meet your eye. He sniffs. “Do it quiet, you hear me? Sneak up on ‘em.”

You shake your head in disbelief, feet starting to carry you over to the side of the room. Powered by adrenaline only, letting go of any emotion that might keep you inside this stupid pharmacy. Forgetting anything in you that might convince you to stay glued to Joel’s side.

Yeah, you can fucking do it. You’re not a kid. You’ve been doing this long enough.

This was life before the QZ. You were in a group then, a collective of survivors whose only interest was staying alive. At all costs. And you got good at it. You’ve told Joel about it before – you were the first wave. Whenever you came across another group – no matter if it was hunters, smugglers, fucking FEDRA – they’d send you in, alongside Mila. The two of you lightest on your feet, best with a knife in your hands.

You started to find it fun, after a while. Thrill of the chase and all that. Creeping up behind them, dragging the blade along their throat, dropping them to their knees as they choked and gargled and bled out. The two of you could clear an entire building in ten minutes, not a single bullet fired.

Mila preferred puncturing them. She’d lift her arm and bring the knife down with the weight of her entire body, sinking it into their necks, under their jaws, sometimes through their fucking temples. You’d seen that girl do some pretty fucked-up stuff.

You’d seen yourself do some pretty fucked-up stuff. Stuff that’d have you avoiding mirrors for weeks.

And none of it scared Joel away. None of it made him think twice about setting off with you.

Certainly never made him think twice about sending you on what can only be described as a suicide mission, just to rid St. Louis of a few bandits.

Doing it isn’t the problem, though, is it? You haven’t had to do it in a while, sure. Joel takes care of you well enough that you barely have to look twice at a threat before there’s a bullet, a blade, or an arrow through it. And you’re not scared, either. Not of those guys across the street.

No. You’re scared of leaving him. Parting with him.

You’re standing by the hole in the wall, trying to convince yourself to duck under the bare brick when Joel’s urgent voice does it for you.

“Go now. Now!”

And you do.

You emerge into an alleyway, concealed from the street by a rusty blue dumpster. Overgrown weeds at your feet, you stay crouched and still until you’re sure there are no eyes on you from the windows overhead.

I mean, you’d be dead by now if there were. So that’s hopeful.

You slink around the jagged metal, slow, silent. More gunshots sound from across the street, and you know Joel’s tossed them a bone. Maybe he’s shown himself – a flash of his jacket or scuff of his heel as he settles to fire back. Maybe they’ve already killed him. Who fucking knows?

At the end of the alleyway sits a black gate, bent and contorted into an archway which separates you from the street. Still covered by knee-high weeds, you kneel down onto your stomach and peer between the wiry green plant to get your first scope of the street ahead.

There’s a long-abandoned nail bar on the right, a few doors down from that bunting you spotted earlier. And right outside it, cast in shadow from the awning: a chestnut horse, saddle hanging lopsided on her back. Waiting, patiently, watching the shootout before her.

You breathe a sigh of relief. Stay there. Stay right there.

Joel’s on his knees outside the pharmacy, crouched behind a Jersey barrier. He lifts his head every thirty seconds, fires one heavy shot at the windows on the top floor of the red-bricked building, and then ducks for cover when they send a burst of erratic bullets back down to him, pelting against the concrete.

You watch for a minute, studying the pattern, and then slip back between the weeds like a lion hiding in the bushes. When Joel fires at the window, you push yourself up and make a swift run for it.

There’s a truck in the middle of the street. Black paint scraped, shot, and sun-burnt off. You take three good strides, kneeling once you’re at the tailgate. You peer around the rear of the truck, huge tires flat and melted into the broken tarmac. You spot your opening.

A gray fence faded by the sun, a few slats missing from the bottom half, guarding an overgrown yard, and, sitting wide open: the backdoor to the building.

Bingo.

It’s an easy enough route. Looks almost like someone’s laid it out for you this way, a perfect path. You wait for your signal – Joel’s gunfire – and sprint over to the fence, back flush against the rotting wood.

You pull the revolver from your jeans and open the chamber. Five bullets. Not bad. You snap it back and adjust your grip on it, finger ghosting the trigger. And then you hear them.

“The girl’s still inside,” a voice grunts from over the fence. Your blood runs cold.

“He’s gotta run out sometime. What the fuck’s Nico doing wasting bullets?”

“How often do strays come through? Let him have his fun.”

Strays. Like a little pet name. Like it’s sport for them. It pisses you off, your adrenaline channeling into rage, white hot across the nape of your neck, growing into determination to put your knife through every single one of them.

So, you return the gun, favoring your switchblade.

Old dog, new tricks. Yadda yadda.

You bend down, peering through the gap like a dog searching for scraps.

It’s just the two of them. One, standing by the door; looks about six feet tall by six feet wide, buzzcut atop a puffy face, tattooed arms hanging loose by his side. The other, pacing around the yard; when his worn jeans pass the opening in the fence, you scan up the tall figure and notice dirty blond hair, scraped back from a gaunt face into a greasy ponytail.

“And if anything hears him? Runners? Fuckin’…we ain’t ready for that.”

Neither of them seem to have a gun. Scrawny doesn’t, anyway, and if Buzzcut does, it’s not in his hands. Which gives you a few seconds’ advantage.

Once Scrawny turns away, you slip through and hook your arm around his neck, holding your knife to the spongey skin under the ridge of his jaw. Buzzcut steps forward, hands reach into his waistband. Fuck.

“Make a sound, I’ll cut him.”

It’s not hard for your voice to fall back to that pitch, that same old tone. Muscle memory. Hushed, so no one inside hears; serious, flat, not a hint of fear. Even though this guy can probably feel your heart hammering into his back.

There’s still shooting on the street. Buzzcut steps forward, pistol between his fingers, silver reflecting the sun into your eyes. He’s unsure if he should lift it or not. Unsure if he should do anything or not. There’s panic painted across his face the color of crimson. He’s not built for this stuff, and he knows it. His free hand comes up, palm forward. Half of a surrender.

Not good enough.

“Put the gun down.”

“Fucking bitch,” Scrawny mutters, wrestling around, long legs bent awkwardly as he leans into your smaller frame.

Fucking idiot, you think. He doesn’t know that this is the fun part. This is why you chose the knife, and not the gun. Blade over bullets. It’d be too easy to rip his brain apart with the squeeze of a trigger. Too quick. Nah, you want to hear him. Want to feel him writhe against you.

You let the blade sink into his whiskered neck. Ever so slightly. He hisses and settles.

“Put – the fucking gun – down.”

“Patrick,” your hostage spits, “just do it.”

Just do it.

Patrick glances down briefly and then nods, eyes flitting back to you. Your eyes stay locked on him, your grip tightens around the knife, but you deafen to the heaving of the chest under your elbow.

Just do it.

Where’s Joel? Is he alive? His voice is ringing in your ears.

Just do it.

There’s a pause between the bullets across the street. Have they hit him?

Just do it.

Patrick’s gun hits the ground with a blunt thud.

Just do it.

And then you feel it.

Searing pain, hot as fire in your upper thigh. A sharp scratch just below your hip, teeth cutting through denim and flesh, then a rutting feeling, twisting and digging and fucking burning as the knife is pushed further and further. You let an angry groan pass your lips and dig your own blade deep into his throat.

His skin bursts open like a bag of water. You pull on him, letting him sink to his knees flush against your chest. Before he’s even on the ground, you’re lurching forward, retrieving the pistol and swiping your knife at Patrick’s outstretched hand. He gasps, clutching his split palm, and then backs away a couple steps.

This time, he lifts both hands. That’s better, fucker.

“Don’t – don’t gotta –”

“Shut the fuck up,” you cut back, staring him down while his buddy writhes at your feet, taking his last few gulps of air. Fresh, warm blood seeps into the grass. Your thigh is on fire.

You edge closer to Patrick, and Patrick edges further away. Until his back is pressed against the wall, his knuckles scratching against the brick; his own blood streaming down his wrist.

“How many are in there?” you ask, head nodding to the doorway, barrel of the gun pressed into his cheek.

He gulps.

“How many?”

“Th-three. Please.”

“Where?”

“One in the h-hall. Two upstairs. Please,” he says again, and you drop the gun, leaving a white ring in his skin.

Mila would sink it in deep, right into his neck. The trapezius. Her favorite spot. She’d just plunge the knife in, push until he collapsed, and then leave him to bleed out. But this is a big guy. He’s gonna need more than that to floor him.

“Alright,” you concede, stepping forward. “Since you asked so nicely.”

You pull your arm down to your hip, knuckles white around the handle and take a fistful of his shirt with the other. Draw him in real close, and angle the blade to the sky, shoving it up under his chin. Nice ‘n snug.

It glides through his skin like it’s butter, and you catch the butt of the knife in your palm, pushing further up. You watch as his eyes widen, his pupils focus on yours long enough to take the memory of your face with him – and then they relax, roll back to check out the metal intrusion behind them.

Patrick gargles, chokes on blood and blade, then gasps as you haul it back out, bright red gushing down his front.

His body folds, both hands come up to cup his torn jaw, and with one kick which cracks into his knees, he’s flat on his face, breathing in dirt and grass and…the blood of his buddy.

“You’re welcome, Patrick,” you breathe, limping over him to enter the building.

Shots are firing again upstairs. It’s dark, your eyes take a few seconds to adjust, but you’re in a derelict store. Place is empty, probably looted by these assholes.

Patrick told you there was one guy in the hall, which you assume is through the door sat ajar on your left. Patrick, however, was most likely a liar. And even if he was telling the truth, you don’t know what this place looks like. You have no idea when or where you’ll come across this one guy.

The only things you have on you are your gun and your knife. So you open the revolver again, your trembling fingers fish one bullet out, and you toss it, aiming for the sliver of light between the door and its frame.

It rattles through, rolling over the solid floor.

“Patrick?” a voice calls, and footsteps begin to approach. “Tucker?”

You duck behind a battered, empty shelf.

A third guy, long brown hair tangled across his shoulders, thick beard patchy with white and gray, pushes the door open and sidles in.

“Pat–”

You’re on him before he can finish his pal’s name, same way you jumped Scrawny – now Tucker, out there. Your blade glides across his throat and he buckles, much quicker than his predecessor outside did. You settle him face down on the tile floor, nodding to him as some twisted form of a thank-you, and slip out of the room, swinging down to collect your bullet as you go.

Patrick, as it turns out, was not a liar. The bottom floor of the house is empty. You’re in a long, narrow hallway. A bloodstained runner at your feet. There are muffled voices upstairs – roaring, cursing. The sunlight streaming in through the arch-shaped window on the front door draws you nearer.

Your breathing is labored, with stress, exhaustion, and pain. Your thigh throbs under your jeans, pain shooting like lightning from the wound anytime you put weight on it. You drag yourself to the bottom of the stairs.

More shots. You swear they’ve only been coming from this building for the last five minutes. Where the fuck is Joel?

You lift your foot hesitantly, hovering over the first step. Don’t fuck this up now. You line it up, applying your weight bit by bit until you’re pushing up off the floor with a whimper, balancing on one leg, bracing for the inevitable creak of the wood.

Nothing.

You’re about to step onto the second, when the door behind you bursts open. Light screams into the hallway, shining on you like a spotlight, and three huge figures stumble in the doorway.

“Wh–? That’s the bitch on the horse!”

You throw yourself up the stairs desperately, taking them two – three at a time, but a pair of fists are in your hair, dragging you back down to the man they belong to. You cry out, swinging around, and catch him square on the nose with your elbow. He swears, retreating only momentarily, before looking you dead in the eye, blood pouring down his lips.

“Fucking – cunt,” he seethes, arms darting out to reach up for you.

His attempt is short-lived, for a number of reasons.

First: you kick his chest before he can grab you, sending him hurtling back down where he came from.

Second: one of the two Patrick said would be up here is at the top of the stairs now, taking you by the shoulders and hauling you up.

And third: Joel just opened fire downstairs.

The bullets pelt around the hallway, coming from the side you just snuck in through. He must’ve followed you across the street.

The last thing you see as you’re dragged off into another room is the three of them ducking for cover, and then you’re being flung onto a cold, dusty floor, knocking the wind out of your lungs and the revolver from your waistband. You roll over and groan, staring up at two men standing over you.

One of them – the one whose vice grip dragged you in here – is big and bulky. Like a brick wall. You realize you’ve no chance of getting by him. His fists are clenched, face reddened, black beady eyes boring into yours. Then he lurches forward, steals the gun from the floor beside you, and points it at you. The safety’s still fucking on.

The other looks younger, but still built. Toned. His shoulders swell in the green canvas jacket he’s wearing, patches on the sleeves. Short, black hair, face sculpted and smooth, chin hairless. Lips pursed as he surveys you, tosses over what to do.

“Cute little game you were playin’, down there,” he muses. “Took out half my guys.”

“Wasn’t that hard,” you pant in reply, “you’re all fucking idiots.”

You can hear Joel fighting off the rest of them, grunts and growls of pain echoing up the stairs. You don’t know which are him and which are them, and it sends fleets of panic through your chest, tightening your breath.

“Sounds like your man’s losing.”

You laugh, masking your fear with a roll of your eyes, head leaning back. “I don’t think so.”

The two men look at each other. The black-haired one nods down to you, then turns on his heel. “Do what you want to her,” he tells Brick Wall, bored, and begins walking away.

A repulsive smile pulls on the man’s lips as he glares down at you. Putrid pink cheeks swell, eyes disappear. Your heels dig against the floorboards, beginning to push yourself in a dizzy haze backwards as his huge, beefy hand reaches down for your waistband.

Something of a scream, warped by the way your body so quickly jumps away from him, escapes your throat, but it only makes him laugh. Your hand slips up inside your sleeve, fingers clutch the cold metal handle of your blade. It flicks open under the fabric, and, just as the noise draws the attention of the man now fumbling with the button of your jeans, you take one good swipe and cut through his forearm. One clean slice, separating skin and soaking the tip of your knife in his blood.

He hisses, stumbles backwards two steps, clutching his arm. You throw yourself to your feet, backing into the corner opposite.

“Nico!” Brick Wall cries out, and the canvas jacket spins to face you.

You clutch your knife, hunched, panting. The room slowly tilts, resetting every time you blink, then begins rotating again.

Nico laughs, pulling a gun of his own and aiming it straight at your face. It’s a nightmare – two on one, both of them armed. But it’s better than what was about to fucking happen.

“Fucking – bitch,” Nico snarls.

“Y’all keep saying that,” you utter, eyes never leaving the barrel of the gun, “I don’t get it. I’m goin’ easy on you here.”

“You’re gonna fuckin’ get it,” Nico spits, apparently not paying enough attention.

The building’s silent. The fighting’s stopped downstairs. And there are no loud footsteps making their way up here, which means one thing.

There’s a quieter, deadlier threat on his way up.

A brutal shot fires from the hallway, taking your breath with it, and Brick Wall’s body flops to the floor. Bullet hole in his temple. Spray of blood across the wall. Only three beating hearts left in the building.

Nico seems to gasp, whether from fright or the way he lunges toward you, wrapping a tight, choking arm around your neck and holding the gun to your temple, both of you waiting for Joel to materialize for two very different reasons.

His figure creeps around the doorway, footsteps slow and soft. His eyes flit over yours, shoulders hunched, rifle aimed ahead. Your breath lets go in one huge, shaky gasp, feeling your muscles relax.

“I’ll do it,” Nico hisses, panic strung through his voice tighter than the bow of a violin. “One wrong move and she’s dead, asshole.”

Joel shrugs. “Do it.”

Nico doesn’t move. He shakes your body, pushes the gun harder into your skin.

Joel looks you dead in the eye. “Do – it.”

Your fingers run over the handle of your knife, lowering it until you have a good enough grip to lock your fist and tilt the blade, lifting your right arm and hammering it backwards, stabbing deep into Nico’s side.

Your head leans to the right as he screams out; he falls to the left. And Joel takes his shot.

Nico’s hand bursts open, blood spraying everywhere. The revolver is thrown from his grip, rattling against the floor as your fist takes one good swing across his jaw and then you fall apart from one another – you, rocking into the steady weight of Joel’s body, and Nico, collapsing against a desk.

Joel catches you in his arms and straightens you up, shifting you to aim his gun back at the threat – though there’s not much about him that warrants such a name anymore. He’s slumped against the dark wood, dark stain seeping through his shirt, head rolled back and groaning. One hand cupping what’s left of the other, blood snaking through his fingers and down his hand like vines on a tree trunk. He looks…pathetic.

Joel fires another shot at him without fucking looking; it lands in Nico’s thigh, and he screams. Mouth full of blood and loose teeth, it’s a gargled, drowned howl of pain.

“They try somethin’?” the fierce drawl asks you, brows low, eyes dark. You know what he’s talking about. The button of your jeans is undone.

You want to say, It’s fine, I’m fine. You want to tell Joel to leave Nico to bleed out. He’s the last one, he’ll be dead inside of ten minutes. You want to go, want to climb onto Jet’s back and let her carry your weak, limp body as far from here as her legs will gallop, and then, once she’s rested, further.

But Joel won’t hear any of that, you know it. Won’t leave this little son of a bitch to slip into a half-conscious drowse, the dripping of his own blood ticking down the seconds he has left while the sound of Jet’s hooves fading into the distance lulls him to hell.

He knows you. Joel. He can read lies on your lips like they’re words scrawled into your skin, so that’s a waste of time, too.

You nod. Joel’s jaw locks. And his eyes flood black like ink.

He hands you the rifle, pulls his arms out of his backpack, and paces over to Nico. The bloody, injured figure begins to back up, push himself further away from Joel, who’s reaching down for something.

“Look, man,” Nico heaves, “you gotta see it from our point of v-view. You guys came walkin’ into our territory, you – you…”

There’s the sound of metal dragging across the bare floorboards, vibration strong enough that it rattles your entire body. You turn away, figuring you don’t need to see him pummel a man to death with a broken pipe.

You hear it, though. Every grunt from Joel, every cry from his victim. Every time the pipe bludgeons into him, the wet squelch of warm flesh and blood meeting cold, rusting metal. You wander off to the other side of the room, closing your eyes.

It’s like a pattern – like the shooting from earlier. Joel sucks in breath as he lifts the pipe above his head, groans as he hurtles it down. There’s the blunt sound, a ding almost of the metal whacking against Nico’s skull, the splatter of blood bursting. And repeat. Deep breath as the pipe winds back – groan as it uppercuts through the dusty air, crack of bone breaking when it makes contact.

Finally, he stops. Takes three deep breaths. Drops his weapon. You turn.

The limp body lies at his feet, a dent the size of Texas in the globe of his skull. Olive skin now splattered red, face unrecognizable. Blood pouring out of somewhere – everywhere in his head, circling his body in a thin, fast-moving pool.

Joel’s staring at you when your eyes lift. Sweat glistening on his forehead, lips apart. Shoulders tight. You’re standing face to face, both of your breathing heavy and labored. Exhausted. And yet…you fucking need him.

You take one step forward and suddenly Joel’s advancing, too, hands out to meet you when you collide into him. Your fingers scram for his collar, ripping his jacket from his shoulders while he messily tears apart the waist of your jeans.

His weight bears down on top of you and he pushes you to the floor, following you down. The floorboards are dirty, coated in a thick layer of dust disturbed by the scuffle you just had, and glazed by the blood of those who lost. You sit up only long enough to remove your jacket before Joel’s pinning you down, unbuckling his own jeans and taking a grip of yours.

You flinch when he tugs on the waistband, and he pauses. Looks up, watches your expression twist. Then follows your eyeline, down to your thigh, where the fresh stab wound oozes thick, dark blood.

Joel slowly peels your jeans down your legs and over the gash. When they pool loose around your knees, you bend them, angling your broken skin in the sunlight. It’s swollen, the cut, reddened and raw. Flesh dragged back and forth, torn and ripped around the edges. You can’t even feel the pain of it anymore, only a prickling heat leading up to the ridges of your broken skin.

And so, when Joel’s fingers run through the air directly above it, and he mutters something about cleanin’ you up, you grunt. Straighten your legs. Pull him by the shoulders back down to you. Reply with a rushed whisper, a Hurry the fuck up.

And he listens; he unbuckles his own jeans, sags them low on his hips, and bends your knees at his shoulders. His cock is already stiff, bead of precum at his wide tip, which he dips between your folds to collect your slick, and then fists himself slowly.

Hurryhurryhurry “– the fuck up,” you groan, watching your wet glisten off the smooth skin of his shaft.

He smirks, then pushes straight in.

Your head hits the floor, eyes rolling with it as he fills you up. His face buries between your breasts, voice muffled by the material of the fabric when he lets out an open-mouthed moan. You both adjust to the feeling – the stretch and the tightness – and then, with a couple more shallow thrusts, Joel begins really fucking you.

He drags his forehead up to yours, sweat mixing where your skin touches. Your jaw clenched; you’re hissing every time he hits that sweet spot inside of you. Holding onto him by the shoulders as he rocks his hips forward, pushing you closer and closer to your first release.

Joel lifts his hand, placing it flat on the floor above your head to steady himself. Then, he quickly glances up at it, an unusual look on his face. You crane your neck and follow his eyeline to find his hand gleaming wet with blood. Bright red. Fresh.

It’s the guy he shot. Bullet wound peering out from the other side of the desk you’re lying next to; his blood has travelled across the uneven flooring.

Joel studies his palm intently, thrusts slowing down some. His face looks…puzzled? As if he’s never had to physically encounter the result of him and his bullets. As if he doesn’t know where to put his hand, now that it’s covered in that result.

You do, though. You know exactly where you want him to put it.

You take his wrist in both hands and draw his gaze down to you. The blood drips from his almost trembling palm down your fingers.

His expression changes – softens, when he sees you looking up at him, watching him from under hooded lids. And then it darkens, when you pull his palm flat against your neck, and the red fluid stains your throat.

You can feel the warm wet between Joel’s skin and yours – the same warmth on the back of your head, creeping through your hair as it seeps further across the floorboards. You’re both covered in blood and dirt, anyway. Joel seems to consider the same, and his grip tightens.

His thumb and forefinger pinch, cutting into your windpipe. Your vision falters for a second, Joel blinks out of focus, and a tiny wave of euphoria crashes over your body. A sick grin pulls across your lips, mirrored in Joel’s.

He releases you and you gasp, oxygen surging through your throat like a burst of water in a dried-up pipe. You let go of his wrists to run your blood-soaked fingers across his face, through his hair. He’s still fucking you hard, and you need something to ground you as white-hot heat pools rapidly between your legs, and a knot begins to tighten.

“You like that?” Joel grunts, driving his hips harder.

“Mhm,” you reply, mouth falling open in a silent gasp when his tip punches into your cervix. The edges of the world start to whiten.

“You’re mine, you hear?” he says through gritted teeth. “Belong to me.”

You’re nodding, throat tossing out an, Uhuh.

“Ain’t no one gets this but me, h-uh?”

Joel’s hand is back around your neck, this time taking either side of your jaw between his fingers, keeping your eyes trained on his. Whatever the fuck makes you do it – the look in his eye, silently commanding, or maybe your own fucking desperation – you’re not sure. But you open your mouth wider, rest your tongue on your bottom lip, and plead with your eyes for him to do it.

So, he does.

His jaw slackens and a bead of spit falls from his mouth into yours. He watches as it lands on your tongue and you run it along your lips, coating yourself in him, before swallowing it.

Joel groans, lets a staggered, “F-fuck, baby,” pass his lips.

You smile in return, filthy, but needy, and beginning to crash hard as your orgasm bursts through you.

He fucks you through it, pace never faltering, still stringing wet saliva between your lips as he kisses you. You pull away when it becomes too much, burying your head in his shoulder and biting down on his shirt.

“Yeah,” he coaxes you, “that’s it. Fuck. Nice ‘n tight, baby.”

As soon as the room starts to return to your vision, the feeling back in your body, you’re rolling him over. Ignoring the burn of the wound in your thigh, you push him back down and straddle him, his cock still deep inside.

You roll your hips lazily, fingers coming down to toy with your clit as Joel stretches you even more from this angle. He groans, hands finding home tight on your hips, head rolling back. He bucks his hips and your free hand steadies yourself on his chest.

“Faster, baby,” he says, trying to move you with his hands.

“No,” you hum, “we go slow. I want to go slow.”

He grunts, pissed off. Good. Keep him that way.

You begin to slowly bounce, pads of your fingers drawing circles over your swollen clit, almost hurting with overstimulation.

“Tell me what you did downstairs,” you whisper, eyes falling shut.

“Downstairs?” Joel asks in a broken voice.

“Mhm. What did you do to ‘em?”

He catches on. “Shot one of ‘em under the jaw.”

You shake your head. “Next.”

“Ch-choked one of them out.”

“No. Not him.”

You want blood. You want Joel’s fists wrapped around someone’s vital organs. You want the sound of your screams in his ears, whether they were really there or not, driving him to commit acts so heinous he won’t look you in the eye when he confesses them.

That’s what you want: him to confess them.

“One of ‘em had a Bowie…” he breathes, knowing what you’re looking for.

You fall forward with a deep moan. “That’s it. Him.”

“…hangin’ from his belt. Shot his leg, right above his knee –”

You moan again, sighing as you sink down on his cock and that feeling creeps over you again.

“– then took the knife.”

“He on the floor?”

“He got up. He – fuck – he stood up, ‘n I put it between his shoulders.”

“Fuck, yeah?”

“Yeah. Ripped ‘im apart, baby.”

You cry out in pleasure, bouncing up and down faster and faster the more the image replays in your head. You��re leaning forward, hovering over Joel as your skin slaps against his every time his hard length fills you. Fucking him to the thought of him slaughtering anyone who posed any threat to you. Those guys didn’t make it upstairs, you’re not even sure they got a good look at you before you were hauled away. But Joel tore them limb from limb at just the possibility.

“Did he – did he scream?”

“Yeah, he fuckin’ screamed.”

Your head drops between your shoulders, hands splayed on either side of Joel’s head, and his fingers knot in your hair. He pulls your forehead against his again, whispering into your mouth.

“Begged me not to do it,” he hums, and you’re thrown over the edge for the second time.

Your hips stop moving to allow space for your high; a second blinding, screaming orgasm ripples through you. You’re gasping now, fingers clutching for Joel, but he’s already moving again.

He slips out from underneath you and lets you down gently on your front, taking your hips and pulling them up to him as he positions himself behind you. And then, without a second’s hesitation, he’s back inside you, chasing his own high. Your back arches as he fucks you, chest flat against the floor.

There’s blood fucking everywhere. On your clothes, in your hair, on the floor beneath you, streaming down your thigh. The entire room smells of it – that suffocating, sickly sweet bite of iron. The bitterness so thick that it coats your lungs with every desperate pant of breath.

And finally, fucking – finally, all the adrenaline and momentum is brought to a climax when Joel releases deep inside you, and you feel yourself contract around him as a third orgasm pulses through you. Your cunt swollen, aching, you almost don’t feel it, but for the way your legs give as soon as he stills inside you.

He’s groaning, borderline fucking whining, before he draws out of you and slumps down beside you on the floor. You’re both staring at one another, almost afraid to touch each other – as if you’re made of glass. Fragile. Breakable.

Yeah. You’re his. And he fucks you like you’re his, like your only purpose is to relieve his stress, tire out his anger, but then…then he looks at you like this, the sunlight twinkling in his warm eyes, dust falling over him like snow. Then he shifts the hair from your face so he can take a proper look at you, study every detail on your face – the cracks in your lips, the curve of your nose. And you know you’re so much more than that to him.

Always have been. Always will be.

You lean over and run your fingers across his cheek, dried blood the color of wine all over your hands. Joel lies still, places a soft kiss to the pad of your thumb when it touches his lips. Your nails sift through his beard. His eyes close over, laying in the comfortable stillness as you trace his face, delicately drawing from his dark brows down to the patches of skin between the graying hair on his jawline.

He doesn’t move when you push yourself up and roll over onto his chest. Doesn’t flinch when you press your mouth to his neck, running from the bottom of his ear up to the tip of his chin.

And when you bring your lips up to meet his, he kisses you back.

His hand sneaks through your hair to the crown of your head and he sits up, rolling you onto your back and caging you underneath him, teeth grazing along your bottom lip, asking it to part. His tongue slips inside, wet and warm and comforting against yours. Your fingers lace at the back of his head, your own cradled in his hands on the hardwood.

It’s like he’s starving. Like he’s been holding off on doing this, for whatever reason. And now that you’ve been the one to open the floodgates – fucking, destroy them – everything comes rushing to the surface. Every time he wanted to, and didn’t. Every time he was buried inside you, and purposefully held his jaw apart from yours. Every minute he’s spent since he met you, without his lips on yours. It all comes rocketing up.

And before it gets too heated, before he begins winding that coil again, he’s pulling away. Lips leaving yours, noses bumping together as they part. You smile, and Joel breathes a laugh for the first time in what feels like weeks.

“Hey,” he whispers.

“Hey.”

You glance down at his flannel: stained with dirt, with sweat, with blood. It brings you down a little from your sun-kissed, golden-rayed eutopia. You suck in a deep breath, and his finger hooks under your chin to lift your face to his.

“Should get that leg covered.”

You nod, and he pulls up off of you, letting you sit up. He wanders around the room, checking the backpacks of Nico and his guys, and pulls some gauze and a bottle of alcohol from a side pocket.

He kneels slowly by your side, offers you the white pad. You shake your head. He has to do it. You don’t know why, don’t know what’s stopping you from wrapping your own wound – something you’ve done hundreds of times by now. But it has to be Joel.

He tips the bottle over the dressing, dousing it in alcohol, and settles it carefully on the floor by your hip. You look at one another, a Ready? and a No, but do it anyway pass across your gaze.

The clear fluid seeps from the pad down his hands, thinning the bloodstains and dragging them in light orange streaks down to his wrist. And when your eyes are distracted, watching the stream of blood and alcohol, he presses the gauze to your thigh.

“Fuck – you,” you stammer, eyes screwing tight enough that you see stars.

“I know,” Joel breathes, and pushes the gauze down harder. Firmer. It shoots heat up your leg, flashes the image of that plank of wood named Tucker who stabbed you across your mind. Your teeth grit, the tendons in your neck leap.

Still holding the pad to your skin, Joel winds a dressing around your thigh. He knots it, gives it a little tug, and then sits back on his heels.

“Okay?”

You tilt your head, lift your eyebrows in form of a Yeah. A half-truth – it feels better to have it covered, but fuck is it stinging. You lift a roll of spare bandage and wrap your wrists.

Joel nods, and then passes you your jeans.

“We should go,” he tells you. Then, softer, kinder, “Gotta go back to the pharmacy. Still supplies in the…”

You push yourself to your feet, unable to listen to the end of his sentence. Ghost was carrying most of your food. The map is still in her saddlebag. Ammo, too. The thought of seeing her again turns your stomach, and Joel seems to figure.

“Why don’t you head out back, go get Jet? I’ll grab everything.”

You stare down at him. Your head shakes before words filter through it. You don’t want to be apart from him again. Not today, at least.

He seems to figure that, too. He nods once, then stands with a low grunt. He fixes his jeans, shrugs his jacket back over his shoulders, and his hand finds the nape of your neck again. He pulls you nearer him, your lips brush against the shoulder of his jacket, and then you split, grabbing your supplies and searching the room for any that these assholes might’ve left to you.

When your pockets are full, you limp at Joel’s heels down the stairs and outside, glancing down the street. The silhouette of a horse slowly meanders back over to you, head bobbing, hooves clicking across the asphalt. Show’s over.

Joel stops and waits for her to approach, lets you bury your face into her strong body when she reaches you.

You squeeze your eyes shut against her muzzle, your forehead between her glossy eyes, and hope the message finds a way through flesh and bone – strong enough and sincere enough to push its way through your skull to hers. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Joel’s hand leaves your back and he walks slowly over to the pharmacy.

Your hands run over Jet’s soft mane, combing her gently, reassuring her as if she’s the one covered in blood, bruised and pained. You hook a finger around her bridle and follow Joel.

As you slowly approach, he’s emerging from the shadows of the pharmacy, a backpack in each hand. He reaches the same curb you were stood on less than an hour ago, and looks up to check on you. Your stomach lurches, glancing down to his boots.

There she is. Black coat shining, chest not moving. Legs splayed out on the road. Pool of blood around her velvety soft ears. She seemed so lean, so fit and graceful when she was on all fours. Now, lying in a heap in the shade of some barren street, she looks huge and clumsy. It makes your eyes swell with tears.

You shift with Jet, turning her to avert her gaze. It’s stupid; she’s a horse. How would she know what’s going on? But then, the way she’s breathing – soft, quiet. It’s like – it’s like she fucking knows.

Joel does it gently – kneels beside Ghost, searches in each pocket for your belongings. He knows your eyes are on him. He pulls a box of bullets and the folded-up map from the bag, slips them into his jacket pocket. Collects the tins of soup and canned fruit in one hand, standing to roll them into Jet’s bag.

He turns to you. “You got your switchblade?”

You nod, and he holds his hand out. You drop the heavy knife into his palm, and he bends back down to Ghost’s side.

He uses your blade to cut the bridle by the corner of her mouth, slicing through the leather running from the bit up to the headpiece. Then pulls it apart, a single strap with a tiny buckle still attached, a silver hoop at one end.

He reaches for your backpack, drags it across the rough ground, and knots one of the canvas ties through the silver hoop of Ghost’s bridle. Triple knots it, to make sure it won’t budge. And then he leans back, surveys his handiwork, and turns to gain your approval.

You can’t do much more than nod, tears dappling down your raw cheeks.

When he’s sure he’s got everything, Joel passes you your backpack, slings his on, and then kneels by her side one last time. He places a gentle palm on her head, runs his hand down her muzzle. Sniffs.

A thank-you, you think. A Farewell, brave girl.

He stands again, turns back to you. Waits for you to decide it’s time to move on.

“I can’t do it…” you whisper, and Joel nods, taking a step closer. “I don’t want to leave her.”

And then you’re sobbing, and he’s taking hold of your shoulders and pulling you into his arms, and your cries are muffled by the soft fabric of his shirt. You wrap yourself close around him, bury deeper into his chest, and Joel tightens his grip. The steady beat of his heart pulls you back down, grounds you. You match your breathing with his and pull away.

You approach Ghost shakily, then crouch, fix her mane out of her eyes, scratch her silky ears one last time, and let her go.

Joel’s face is tight when you turn back. Eyebrows low. You bite the inside of your cheek as you pass him, and then hoist yourself up onto the brown horse’s back.

He pulls himself up in front and leans back into you, head cocked to wait for your signal. You snake your arms around his waist and feel a delicate hand rest on top of yours, interlaced on his belt buckle. His thumb traces your knuckles, and when you lean your ear between his shoulder blades, he clicks to Jet.

The horse swerves off, beginning your long journey out of the city.

----------

taglist: @slvbl @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @msjarvis @acornacreacure @totallynotastanacc @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @cool-iguana @serenaxpedro @lizzyervs @bitchwitch1981 @brittmb115 @stormseyer @fairytale07 @scarletthefierce @patti7dc @pattwtf @atticrissfinch @pascalpvnk @jediknightjana @jessie8605 @caitispunk @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi @gracieispunk @hellishjoel

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

540 notes · View notes

dazedandconfused-15 · 22 days

Text

Heaven's in your eyes

This is to answer a request I received from an anonymous user a couple of months ago “Billy asks shy reader out and is protective over her”, for some reason I can't directly respond to their post still getting used to Tumblr. Sorry for taking a while to write this one. Anyway, I got a little bit carried away and turned it into a short fic, I just loved the whole concept. I’ll definitely post a part 2. Comments and constructive opinions are always appreciated 🩷

Part 1

You have always watched him from a distance.

There was something magnetic about him. Where he was, energy swirled.

You have never spoken to him. He’s something inaccessible to you. He hangs out with the popular crowd. Yet, unlike all of them, he doesn’t seem to pretend. He doesn’t show up. He naturally exudes an aura that makes him alluring. He’s not just what could be called "hot." No, he’s beautiful. When you first saw him in the school hallways, you could swear that for a second, your heart stopped. He was playing with his lighter, walking with an assured stride in the direction of his classroom with Jason Carver. He was a palette of contrasting colors that stood out in perfect harmony. His tanned face was framed by long, golden curls that almost fell over his shoulders. He looked straight ahead as he listened to the boy at his side with his red mouth stretched into a smirk that revealed white teeth. His cupid bow was dusted with stubble. It was no surprise that most of the girls looked at him with no shame, the shyest ones glancing up as soon as he passed them. That California boy did not look like a boy. He looked like a man. You could tell by the way he was built, the black leather jacket hugging his broad shoulders, the muscular legs in his denim jeans.

You had realized that you were staring openly at him when he passed by you and, probably feeling the weight of your gaze on him, his eyes had met yours. There, something had happened inside you. His eyes were the purest blue you had ever seen. They were crystalline. But it was the long dark lashes that gave his gaze something expressive and unique. They were the embodiment of what is called a piercing gaze. It was a unique paradox: as angelic as it was rough in outline. Awakening from your enchantment, you lowered your gaze with an abrupt jerk of your head and resumed putting your books away in the locker, feeling your cheeks on fire and your heart beating wildly.

That was the only time you had even a remote semblance of contact with him.

As you rush to your English literature class a month later, rounding the corner of the hallway, the last thing you expect is to bump into him. You let out an "ouch" as you collide with his hard chest, your notes and pencil case tumbling to the ground in the chaos. It's only when you raise your eyes in a flurry of apologies that you realize who you've bumped into. You swallow, kneeling and picking up your notes hastily.

"You alright?"

"Yes. Yes." the notes slip through your shaking fingers.

His hands appear in your field of vision, and when you accidentally touch them, an electric shock almost makes you wince. He helps you pick them up, then raises to his feet and holds them to you. You thank him, thinking about what else you could say to avoid making the situation awkward. His baby blue shirt matches the color of his eyes. He’s even prettier from closer.

"Aren’t you in history class with me ?"

His question surprises you. You didn't think he would remember you. You didn't think he would notice you.

"Yes. That's right."

He holds out his hand, his heavy-lidded gaze on you. "Billy."

You shake his hand, introducing yourself. His hand is large and his grip his firm, but gentle at the same time. That touch makes your stomach tangle. You can't believe he is talking to you.

"You're new, right?" you ask. You know fully well that he arrived here a month ago. You know full well that he is from California. He probably knows that you know, but he doesn't say anything about it

"Yes. Moved here last month."

“Oh, okay. Welcome to Hawkins, then.” you say gently as you absently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Thanks.”

There’s a beat of silence, him probably waiting for you to say something else. You point at the door down the hallway, starting to walk away. “I ah, I have to go to class. Sorry.”

And you walk away, no, you scurry away, almost escaping him, feeling a pang of embarrassment as you replay the scene later in your head, regretting how abruptly you left without saying more.

You don’t cross paths with him again after that. However, you are clearly more aware of his presence during history classes even though you don’t interact again.

In recent months, you've adopted a strategy of minimizing your visibility as much as possible. It’s not always easy. That Thursday is one of the hard days. Mr. Jensen, the new history teacher, makes his way through the rows of desks, collecting permission slips signed by parents for the upcoming day trip he has organized to Indianapolis.

"Ah, I don't seem to have your permission slip yet," he inquires gently as he sees you empty-handed. "Did you forget to bring it today?"

Feeling the eyes of everyone on you, your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you shake your head, your voice barely above a whisper. You hate all of this attention on you. "I, um, I haven't been able to get it signed yet. My dad's been working double shifts, and I haven't caught him at home."

“I understand,” the teacher says, “But I need to give all the signed papers to the principal by tomorrow. Is it possibly to get it signed today? By your mother, perhaps?”

Before you could answer, Tommy Hagan's voice pierces the air, his tone laced with mockery. "She's probably halfway across the country by now, cozying up with some other guy."

You don’t even turn to look at him. You saw it coming. It’s been five months since she left now. Hawkins is a small town, so the news spread quickly. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, avoiding eye contact with your classmates as you feel the weight of their curious gazes.

"I uh...I just," you try to ignore Tommy's comment, resting your eyes on the professor whose eyebrows are furrowed in confusion. "I'll tell my dad tonight. He's just been really busy. I will bring it to class tomorrow."

“If he comes back with the milk.” snickers Tommy.

You stiffen instantly without wanting to, which the teacher doesn’t fail to notice.

“That's enough, Mr. Hagan. Comments like that have no place in my classroom.” he snaps as his eyes darken, his jaw set. His expression softens as he turns to me “Don't worry about the permission slip for now. We'll make sure you're included."

As the professor returns to his seat, your eyes remain fixed on the spot where the bench is chipped, absently touching it with your fingernail. Your body fails to relax as you fight to ignore the burning in your throat, careful not to blink, your vision blurred for a few moments. But Tommy's yelp draws your attention and you turn your head to your left, where he is sitting next to Billy.

“Ow. What was that for, man?”

Tommy is rubbing his shoulder, his face scrunched up in pain and a mixture of disbelief and confusion on his face. Billy stares straight ahead, his face cold and hard.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he eventually mutters under the teacher’s explanation. However, it sounds more like a statement than a question.

As you go back to stare at your desk, your throat is still burning but your vision is clear again. You wonder if what Billy said was because of Tommy's comments. Why would he defend you?

The rest of the class passes in a blur of confusion and unanswered questions. Tommy's hurtful words echo in your mind, leaving you shaken and upset, the sting of their cruelty lingering long after the bell rings.

***

On the morning of the school trip, you are tempted to call the school and say you are sick, but your father comes back from the plant later in the morning and will see that you are actually fine. Also, Mr. Jensen might suspect that something is going on. Only, the idea of spending the day with the whole class, but feeling more alone than you are when you're at school, doesn't appeal to you. You've never been very outgoing. Since your mother left, the armor that covered you has only thickened, alienating you from the rest of the world. To this day you have received no answers. She left overnight without warning. You never received a call. You knew that things had not been going well between your parents for some time. Or rather, your mother kept complaining about how being in Hawkins was suffocating her, how she was no longer happy. The pain was slowly becoming coated with resentment. She had abandoned you and your father as if nothing had happened, as if years of living together had counted for nothing. As if being a family had cost nothing. Arriving on the ground floor and finding the kitchen light off had now become a habit, not an odd occurrence. Other things had become routine: the unaccustomed silence in your house, the TV once perpetually on now always off, the teapot once always in use was now in the kitchen drawer.

Once on the school bus, you spend your time looking out the window and counting the trees on the distant hills. You can feel the wind blowing outside, the rain pelting cruelly on the window. A crack lets a trickle of air through, making you shiver and clench tighter in your jacket. The ride at least passes quietly, no one talking to you or bothering you. Tommy Hagan keeps his comments to himself, too busy jabbering in the back of the bus with his band of friends. You can hear the occasional shrillness in the voice of Carol Perkins, his girlfriend.

You spend almost the entire morning in the Indiana Historical Society, following the professor through the corridors of the museum. You stay in the background, drowning out the guide's voice and looking at the paintings hanging on the wall. As you change rooms, you realize that you are not the only one who has remained aloof. Billy Hargrove lingers to your side at the back of the row of students, his hands tucked into his leather jacket. You try not to be affected by his presence, suddenly self-conscious of the way you walk and breathe. You still remember what he told Tommy Hagan the week before. You are increasingly convinced that he defended you. As the class spreads in different directions, everyone observing something different and speaking lowly in small groups you realize he’s still here, on your side. As you ponder if you should say something, or just assume that he’s walking behind on his own, he catches you off guard.

“Kinda boring, huh?”

“Yeah, a little," you respond, offering him a small smile that probably looks like a grimace. "History isn't my cup of tea."

“Mine neither,” his gaze scans the display cases lining the wall on your left. “Beats being seated all day in class, though.”

“Definitely,” you nod in agreement as you slowly cross through another room. Desperately trying to fill the silence, you come up with the first thing that crosses your mind. “I’ve been here before.”

“The museum?”

“Indianapolis,” you say. You hesitate before finishing your thoughts. “My grandma lived here. I spent some weekends at hers.”

Billy hums. He sniffs, then retrieves some chewing gums from his back pocket. He unwraps one. “How’s the city?”

“It’s great. Oh, thank you.” you softly say as you take the gum he’s offering you. “There are some nice parks.”

He pops the chewing gum in his mouth. “We have quite a few in San Diego too.

You turn toward him, curiosity overcoming your shyness. “You lived in San Diego?”

“Yes. Big change of scenery.”

“I can imagine.” your gaze wanders to the antique objects displayed in a glass case. “I’ve seen pictures, it looks incredible.” memories of your dad's album, from when he was young, flood your mind – images of palm trees swaying in the breeze, golden beaches stretching for miles, and endless blue skies that seemed to merge seamlessly with the ocean.

“That’s something else, yeah. Honestly, I couldn’t complain at all.”

“I wish I could see California,” you say a little dreamily.

“I can take you one day.”

Your throat feels suddenly dry. So you let out a nervous giggle, avoiding his gaze, assuming he is joking. Fortunately, the professor calls your attention back. It's lunchtime and he tells you that you are free to go wherever you want, as long as you are outside the museum within four hours. You told your father the school would pay for the student's lunch because you know times are tough. He insisted on giving you ten dollars in case you need it.

You walk down the steps of the museum looking around and thinking about where you could make all this time go. It's going to be long. You know a few restaurants, but you know that your pocket money is clearly not enough to eat there. A gust of wind brings the smell of smoke to your nostrils, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Billy stop beside you. His eyes take in your surroundings.

“So, you told me you know the city.”

“Huh, yes,” you answer, a little lost. “Not all of it, but most of it, like downtown.”

Billy exhales the smoke he’s been holding in his mouth. “Are we downtown?”

You look around, recognizing the skyscrapers in the distance. "Yes," you point to the skyline to your right, figuring he simply wants to ask you for information so he knows where to go with his friends. "It's over there."

“Sweet. Are you hungry?”

The silence that passes between the two of you makes him turn toward you, waiting for your response. So you rush to answer, ignoring the way his piercing blue eyes make you feel self-conscious.

“Yes. Yes, a little bit,” then you ask him, unsure: “...and you?”

“Starving.” he resumes walking down the stairs again, and you follow him, trying to figure out if he really means what you think he means. Some classmates are already leaving in different directions. “You know someplace to eat?”

“I do. But I don’t have enough. In case you want to go together. If that’s what you were offering.” You add, mentally slapping yourself. Why does everything you say have to come across as weird? Besides, you just admitted that you are practically out of money. “I can show you, though.”

Billy shakes his head, shifting in his leather jacket. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ll pay.”

“No, really, I can't let you do that," you insist, your voice tinged with concern. "I mean, I appreciate it, but I can't just let you pay for me."

Billy turns to you, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he exhales the smoke sideways. "Come on, it's no big deal," he reassures you. "Consider it my way of saying thanks for showing me around. Besides, it's not like I'm short on cash."

You hesitate for a moment. But ultimately, you know that accepting his offer would ease the burden on your wallet. With a resigned sigh, you nod in agreement. "Okay, if you insist," you concede, offering him a small smile. "But just this once.”

You wanna immediately grimace at your pathetic implication that there would be another time, but Billy doesn’t seem to notice anyway.

He just winks at you. It makes your stomach flip. "Deal," he says. "Now, lead the way. I'm starving."

As you walk beside each other through the park later on, you relish in what surrounds you, not even realizing the silence that has settled between the two of you because it feels so natural. Some people are jogging, there are some families too, or people walking alone headed who knows where. The birds are chirping in the trees that are alongside the walk. You spot a squirrel scurrying up the trunk of one of them, its fluffy tail waving wildly. The late afternoon sun is shining right in front of you, hitting your skin in a gentle caress. Spring is gradually unfurling its colors, bringing with it a glimmer of warmth that has been absent from your life lately. In the midst of the cold and desolation that settled in after your mother's departure, this glimpse of light offers a tentative promise of renewal, a small beacon of hope amid the darkness that has enveloped you and your father. You glance at Billy, realizing that in the short span of your conversation, he's frequently reached for a cigarette. Yet, even during the moments when he abstained, like in the museum and at the restaurant, his mouth was never empty. It was either occupied by a mint, a bite of burger, the straw of his milkshake, or eventually a toothpick found on the table.

“So, uhm, have you been somewhere else besides San Diego or Hawkins?” you venture.

“Nope”, he answers, the “p” resounding loudly. He looks around, one hand in his jacket pocket as the other one holds the cigarette on his side. “Never moved from Cali. I was born in Santa Barbara. Then moved to San Diego when I was ten.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “Is Santa Barbara close to the ocean?”

“It is. I have always lived by the ocean.”

You turn to him, enthusiasm laced in your voice as you get carried away in the conversation. “So you know how to surf?”

Billy chuckles, nodding as he brings the cigarette to his lips. “I do, yeah. Surfed every day.”

“Wow.” you breathe, your mind wandering away. “It must be…like an adrenaline rush.”

As Billy exhales the smoke, you don’t miss the nostalgic glint flickering in his eyes. "Yeah, it's something else. There's nothing quite like catching a wave, feeling the power of the ocean beneath you."

“I’ve heard it’s hard to learn.” you muse softly.

The rhythmic sound of your footsteps punctuates the conversation. Billy stays silent for a few seconds, probably lost in his thoughts. Then he shrugs. “To be honest, I was on the surfboard since I was a child, so must’ve been natural for me. But yeah, it generally is.

“I can only imagine," you respond, a sense of longing in your voice. You’ve only seen this kind of landscape in pictures or on TV. "Must have been amazing growing up with that kind of freedom."

Billy's sigh is loud as he exhales a plume of smoke, his gaze drifting towards the horizon. "It was. Surfing was my escape, you know? Whenever things got tough, I could just grab my board and disappear into the waves."

What he says lightens some curiosity in you. You wonder what he means by that. You wonder what he went through, what his past was like. There’s something really intriguing about him. But you refrain from asking more, aware of how little you know each other. Besides, you can’t help but notice the little twitch of his jaw muscles as he says it.

"For me, it's always been books.” you offer. “They have this way of transporting you to another world, making you forget about everything else."

Billy nods in understanding. “What kinda books do you read?”

“Oh,” you look at your shoes as you feel suddenly vulnerable. You almost feel ashamed of your taste in books, but you know you shouldn’t. “A bit of everything, really. I’m reading a Dostoevsky one right now.

“Dostoevsky, huh? Pretty heavy stuff,” he says, arching an eyebrow.

“You’ve read some of him before?

“I read Dream of a Ridiculous Man. A long time ago though.”

“Oh,” you breathe, recalling how challenging it was to finish it when you read it a couple of months ago. Reading books by Dostoevsky, especially that one, has been both a cathartic and enlightening experience. They made you feel less alone in your pain. “Did you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s kinda controversial.” he grimaces. “It’s a fucking depressing book. But... it's like... there's something about it that just... resonates, you know? Like, you read it and... it's like looking into a mirror, but... the reflection's all twisted and weird. I don't know if that makes any sense.” he shrugs.

It couldn’t make more any sense to you. For the first time, you feel understood in that sense. It's a relief to know that you're not alone in finding meaning within its pages. His words resonate deeply with you.

“I totally get it. That’s part of the reason why I like his books.”

The subtle revelation hangs in the air with the rhythmic sound of your footsteps on the concrete path. You hope he’s not reflecting on your words too much, aware of what you’ve implied. Your own thoughts go on what he said. Why did Billy resonate so much with the book? What if there’s something everybody can relate to, even people who haven’t experienced anything bad in life?

“What about you?” he then asks. “Always been in Hawkins?”

“Born and raised.” you nod. Then you add, a bit sheepishly: “Nothing like California, unfortunately.”

Billy snorts, flicking his cigarette. “What’s there to do in summer?”

“Oh uh. Nothing much. We have a public pool.” you offer, looking at him.

Billy takes a drag, his eyes trailing on the path in front of both of you.

“We have Lover’s Lake too,” you add. “It’s quite nice, actually. People spend the day there and have barbecues or campfires.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard about that one,” he says. “That you guys party by the lake during summer or something like that.”

“Yes.” then you keep quiet for a few breaths, imagining he’s probably heard it from one of his friends from the basketball team. They’re usually to host parties or organize them. It always involves loads of alcohol and ends up in big scandals. You feel the urge to correct him. “Not me, though. I don’t, uh…I don’t party.”

You feel his eyes on you. “Makes sense.”

You look up at him in question.

“Didn’t see you at the Halloween party.”

“The one hosted by Tina Williams?” you soon look away as soon as you meet his gaze. “I didn’t know you…you noticed.”

“Would’ve noticed if you were there.”

As Billy's words settle in, you feel a warmth spreading through you, starting from the tips of your ears and flushing your cheeks crimson. His simple compliment catches you off guard, igniting a whirlwind of emotions within you. You find yourself struggling to meet his gaze, your eyes flickering away as you search for some semblance of composure. None of this makes sense. The mere fact that he recognized your absence at the party, that he shared lunch with you, that he's now walking beside you in the park—it all feels inexplicable. You're accustomed to blending into the background, being an outcast in the bustling halls of the school. You're no stranger to the whispers that swirl around you, painting you as the outsider, the comments about your situation at home, the subtle jabs at your circumstances. The silence between you stretches, pregnant with unspoken thoughts.

“You’re alright?” you hear him ask.

You slow down, lingering to a stop as you realize Billy has stopped walking too. He looks down at you with a hint of curiosity, the sun caressing his golden skin and reflecting in his eyes, becoming like polished, crystalline gems. That’s when you notice little details you haven’t paid attention to before. The scar cutting through his right eyebrow, the pattern of freckles dusting his nose.

“I guess I’m just a little confused,” you admit.

Billy exhales the smoke from his nostrils, his gaze effortlessly fixed intensely on you. “Why is that?”

“I just…” you try to not avoid his gaze. “Why are you here with me?”

The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement and what looks like genuine confusion. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

His question is so simple it takes you off guard. Makes you question your reasoning. As you’re at a loss for words, you feel a blush slowly creeping down your cheeks.

Billy’s lips slowly curve into a smile, somewhat teasing. “You really have pretty eyes, you know that?”

You’re positively sure you’re as red as a lobster now, a little whine escaping your lips as embarrassment settles over you. It’s the most instinctual reaction. It makes him chuckle, and makes you awkwardly laugh in response, because what else can you do? He tilts his head to the side, trying to meet your avoiding eyes.

“How about that? I’m here with you ‘cause of your pretty eyes”.

“I really don’t think they’re that special.” you shake your head, still laughing.

You’re not that innocent to not realise he’s openly flirting with you. You’re not surprised, because just looking at him is enough. You’ve also heard things about him and some girls at high school. What surprises you, is that he’s flirting with you. You don’t have that much experience in the love department, but there’s something sincere and genuine in the way he’s doing it now. There’s something soft in his eyes that tells you he’s sincere.

“Well, it’s a shame,” he says, that’s when you realise how much closer you are to each other. You can tell by how you can smell the tobacco and his cologne, his silver earring shining as it catches the sun. He tilts his head again, this time catching your gaze as you muster the courage to lock eyes with him. “’Cause you have beautiful eyes.”

“Thank you,” you mumble with a shy smile, nodding your head slightly. You swear you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

You feel like you want to return the compliment because his eyes are the reason why your heart is reacting the way it does. But then again, you’re too shy to do that, and a tiny part of you thinks it would make things weird or would end up having you vulnerable because you don’t know for sure if his compliment is fueled by real interest in you.

“I don’t waste my time with people if I don’t think they’re worth it either, trust me.”

As a distant church bells toll four times, their echoes drifting across the park, a subtle reminder of the passing time washes over you both. The realization settles in that it’s time for you to go. You should be back in front of the museum in half an hour.

Luckily, Billy saves you from answering as he breaks eye contact and looks up beyond your shoulder, where the church is. “We should go,” he says.

As you walk back to the museum, you think about his words. Now you realize that you didn’t see him hanging around Tommy Hagan lately. In particular, today on the bus, the latter was seated with his girlfriend and hung out with two other members of the basketball team. Billy was somewhere else the whole time.

When you two reach the museum, the teacher is already counting everyone to make sure the whole class is there. Billy joins his mates, elbowing one of them in a friendly gesture. You didn’t fail the notice the looks most of your classmates shot at you when he saw you two arrive together. The teacher draws the class's attention back to the trip, prompting feedback and reflections from everyone.

What you don’t expect either once on the bus, is feeling someone sitting on the empty seat next to yours. Billy gets comfortable, making it seem something so normal as he stretches his long legs as far as the cramped quarters allow. His thigh brushes against yours and your heart jumps a little in your ribcage, but a few minutes later you start to relax. You can’t help the feeling of warmth spreading through your chest as you take in his choice to sit deliberately next to you. You don’t need to fill the silence, or at least not as strongly as a few hours ago. You’re also quite tired. As you venture a glance in his direction, Billy’s eyes are closed. It seems you’re not the only one feeling tired. His arms are crossed over his chest but his facial features are totally relaxed now that he’s dozing off, his head resting against the seat. His hair seems soft at the touch, a curl falling unruly on his forehead. You feel the distant urge to wrap it around your finger, brush it from his face. There is a difference between now and when he’s fully awake: his expression softened, his gaze peaceful, and his features relaxed. It's a stark contrast from the demeanor you've observed from a distance, where his smile is more wolfish, his facial muscles tense, and his eyes often distant or bored. You force yourself to look away from him, setting your gaze on the window. As the rhythmic hum of the bus lulls you into a state of drowsiness, you feel your eyelids grow heavy. The warmth of the moment envelops you, and soon, you find yourself dozing off as well.

Once you get off the bus, you wrap your arms around your waist as you shiver. The weather is distinctly different. It seems to have been raining all day. The sky is darkening. School buses cannot take you home because there is no bus stop near your house. Forest Hill Trailer Park is in the isolated part of Hawkins. There is no one from the high school living there, so you can't ask anyone for a ride. It's not like anyone would have offered anyway. You've always walked to and from school, in total it takes you forty minutes. As you start to walk away from the bus, you hear footsteps behind you and Billy is at your side, effortlessly catching up with you. You realize his car is parked a few steps away from you. The gleaming navy blue Camaro stands out among the other cars, "CALIFORNIA" on the license plate.

You take the opportunity to thank him before he can dart away and you will probably never exchange another word again.

“Hey,” you start, turning to look at him. “I just wanted to thank you for paying at lunch today.”

Billy plays with the lighter, making it bounce in his hand. “It’s nothing. How are you getting home?”

“Oh, I’m walking.” you point your thumb at the road on your left.

“Come on. I’ll drive you.”

Your mouth opens and closes stupidly, then your brain finally decides to cooperate. Accepting his offer feels like taking advantage of his kindness. You don't want to do this. “I…it’s not a long walk, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s probably gonna rain again soon.” he points at the sky, walking past you and toward the parked car.

“You don’t have to.” you insist, guilt filling my stomach as he opens the passenger door for you.

“I know.” he chuckles.

The soft thrumming of a rock song fills the air, the bass pulsing gently as Billy lowers the volume as soon as he turns the engine on. The interior of the Camaro envelops you in a world that feels distinctly his. The smell of leather fills your senses, mingling with the faint scent of his cologne. It's clear that he takes immense pride in his car and the care and attention he devotes to it reflects on the interior. The leather seats feel soft and smooth. There's not a speck of dust anywhere, even in the corners. A pair of aviators rests on the dashboard.

You give him directions, your voice cutting through the quiet ambiance of the car. He nods in acknowledgment, his gaze focused on the road ahead. His left arm casually drapes against the window, while his other hand firmly grasps the top of the steering wheel.

“It’s quite a walk,” he observes as the Camaro speeds through the road surrounded by the woods.

“Yeah…”

You’re thinking of asking him to stop before getting to Forest Hill, but it’s pouring and you don’t have an umbrella. As you get closer and closer, anxiety starts rippling through you. You shake the feeling out of your head. You’re being ridiculous, there’s nothing to be ashamed about. Additionally, you barely know him. You try and distract yourself, asking him about where he lives instead.

“Cherry Lane. You know where it is?”

“Yes, it’s a nice and quiet area. It’s not that far from school either,” you observe.

Billy absently scratches his chin, the glint of a silver braided ring catching your eye. “Yeah. It’s quiet, that’s for sure.”

You find yourself wondering about its significance. Does it have one? You've heard numerous accounts of Billy's involvement in fights at parties, tales of the severe injuries sustained by those who crossed him, and the ferocity of his punches. How many times has that ring been tainted with someone else's blood? Despite the rumors surrounding his aggressive behavior, your interactions with Billy have always been positive. He's consistently shown kindness to you.

Billy turns left, veering off the main road onto a narrow side road, the tires crunching on the gravelly dirt path that winds its way towards Forest Hills. The rain drums insistently against the car, a steady rhythm punctuating the silence between you.

The first trailer emerges into view, its weather-beaten exterior casting a shadow of foreboding over your already uneasy mind. Despite your discomfort, you muster the courage to speak up, directing Billy to continue driving until the end of the road.

You steal a furtive glance at him, searching for any hint of judgment in his expression, but Billy remains impassive. There's no trace of surprise or disdain in his features. His gaze lingers on the scene before you, studying it with a detached curiosity that seems to characterize his view of Hawkins as a whole.

“Thanks again for today, really. I wanna pay you back,” you venture as he slows down.

Billy waves a dismissive hand before settling it on the gear shift, smoothly transitioning into first gear. “I told you it’s no big deal. Wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

You worry at your lip, still not totally convinced. You glance at him. “I know that. But it doesn’t sound fair. It’s important to me.”

Billy's gaze shifts to the road ahead as he seemingly considers your words. "If you really wanna make it up to me," he starts, his voice trailing off for a moment before he continues, "How about you show me around Hawkins sometime?"

You blink, caught off guard by his suggestion. "Show you around Hawkins?"

"Yeah," he nods, resting his forearm loosely on the steering wheel as he gestures while he talks. "I've only been here a short while, and I don't really know my way around outside downtown yet. Like, all the places you talked to me about. The lake, the quarry."

The idea appeals to you, though the thought of spending more time with him outside of school never crossed your mind. The fact of spending time with him in the first place was out off the charts for you. "Sure, I could do that," you reply, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I mean, I'm not exactly a tour guide, but I could show you some cool spots. Whenever you want, uhm. Yeah.”

Billy reaches out to the compartment on the passenger side, brushing your knee with his arm. He opens it and extracts a pen.

“Here,” he takes off the cap with his teeth, and before you know it he’s taking your arm, gently lifting your sweater sleeve.

You try to look unfazed by his touch, though the feeling of his fingertips pressing gently against your skin as he holds your forearm, the sensation of the pen as he writes something on it makes you shiver, raising goosebumps. You look at him in silent confusion as he writes, his dark lashes brushing his cheekbones, a glimpse of pearly white teeth and a sharp canine as he holds the cap between them. Then he releases your arm, and you take a look at it while he takes the cap from his mouth. A series of numbers are written in blue ink on your skin. A phone number.

“Oh.” you say softly. You definitely haven’t expected that.

“Call me when you feel like it.”

It’s really hard for you to hide your nervousness, acting as cool as you can.

“Okay, will do.” you unbuckle your belt, glancing at him enough to give him a soft smile.

Billy nods at you in silent farewell before you close the passenger door. “Have a good night”.

“You too. Bye.”

The warmth of Billy's presence lingers in the car as you step out into the cool, damp air, the raindrops falling softly around you. Closing the door behind you, you watch as the sleek navy blue Camaro disappears down the little road and into the woods from the small window of the living room. As you stand there, the drops of water falling from the end of your hair, you can't help but brush at the phone number on your forearm, tracing the neat handwriting with your fingertips. It's like you're still trying to wrap your head around what just happened. Though you're trying to keep it under control, you can't help the fluttering feeling in your heart.

#billy hargove imagine #billy hargove smut #billy hargrove #dacre montgomery #billy hargove x reader #stranger things fic #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove imagine #dacryphilia #eddie munson #billy hargrove x y/n #billy stranger things #billy hargrove x you #stranger things smut

249 notes · View notes

mllersjoel · 1 month

Text

you're obsessed

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x fem!actress!reader

Warnings: swearing, no use of y/n

Summary: jamie tartt fic where he has a huge crush on an actress and sees her at a richmond event and she flirts w him he’s really shy bc he likes her but they hook up after idk

Wordcount: 1.6k

A/N: didnt manage to write any smut bc this was getting way too long teehee :D general warnings for swearing.

writing comms are open!

“Oi, Tartt! Stop stalking your actress and give me some laps,” Roy yells, shaking Jamie from his reverie. Jamie is not stalking her instagram. He’s just not; because a stalker would have notifications on as they obsessively checked their profile at least four times every minute. Jamie is only checking once every five minutes, and he doesn’t even have her notifications on. So there. Suck it, Roy.

“Fine, don’t give yourself an aneurysm,” he mutters, taking a quick minute to stretch before he’s running around the pitch. He just has a crush. That’s all. A little one. He first saw you in some thriller that came out last month, and something about you had him hooked. Initially he thought it was just the character you played, a regular yet charming civilian, pulled into the crime world. After watching (admittedly, way too many) interviews, he realised it wasn’t the character. It was you.

You with your witty remarks and comments. The way you laughed good naturedly and poked fun at your costars. The way you were clumsy and scatterbrained, in a terribly endearing way.

It didn’t help that you were also gorgeous.

So, yeah. Jamie had a slight crush. It was fine, though, because you were currently based in Los Angeles (you were in a new Marvel movie) and had no plans of coming to the UK anytime soon.

“She’s right fit, though,” Isaac says, nudging Jamie as he runs past.

Jamie feels his stomach tighten with jealousy before he catches himself. Why was he jealous? He didn’t know you and you probably didn’t even know he existed. Well, maybe you did, because he was sexy and a hot football player. Did you even watch football? Would you watch it if you knew he was in it?

Jamie remembers hearing something about a parasocial relationship from Keeley and resolves to not think about you.

At least while he was training.

***

He’s spraying on cologne in the locker room when Keeley bursts in, all smiles and pep.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God!”

“Is everything alright?” Ted asks, breaking away from Coach Beard who as far as Jamie could tell, hasn’t said anything but is managing to have a full conversation with Ted.

“You will not believe who I booked for this years’ Gala!”

Roy’s ears perk up at this as he slides into the conversation. “The Muppets?”

“No, Roy,” Keeley says, exasperated, “not the fucking Muppets. Only the hottest new actress on screen right now!”

At this point, all the boys have gathered around Keeley, jostling each other and trying to see the screen of her phone. Jamie fights his way to the front, and when his eyes focus on Keeley’s phone, he’s pretty sure his heart drops into his stomach.

It was you. There. With your smile and your eyes and your name and a headline.

You were coming to their Gala.

You.

He feels his heart drop into his stomach. This couldn’t be real. Maybe it was a mistype, or someone accidentally said they scheduled you but in reality you were on the other side of the globe. It was faked. It had to be.

He broke away from his team, practically running back to the changing rooms. Opening up your instagram, he pulled up your story. There, you had reposted the announcement.

Oh. Oh fuck.

***

On the day of the Gala, Jamie seriously considers hiring a stylist rather than just going with his gut. He needs to look good. Tonight is most probably one of the most important days of his life. His favourite actress, coming to his club’s Gala. Maybe, if he plays his cards right, you’ll bid on him.

Wait. Who was he kidding? He’s Jamie fucking Tartt. Of course you’ll bid on him. He could wear a trash bag and you’d bid on him, because he is just that fucking sexy.

Right?

He shoots a quick text to Keeley, desperate for a second opinion.

Me:

[image0.png]

thoughts? Xx

Keeley:

Ur hot babes!!

Gonna knock em dead xx

Lose the tie u look like a prick <3

He takes one last look in the mirror, running his hands through his hair. Yeah. He’s gonna show up and be so cool. He’s so cool.

***

They’re taking pictures on the carpet, and everyone can tell Jamie is not all there. He barely tells the paparazzi to take pictures of his good side, following it up with “And that’s any side.” His eyes keep darting around, every scream and shout of delight sending his stomach in knots in case you’re the one to step out of the limousine.

Maybe you just won’t show up. Maybe you were already inside.

He can’t decide which option is worse.

When he’s at the end of the carpet, about to head inside, he hears whistles and screams, different from the ones before. These sound a lot more excited, filled with more adrenaline and anticipation. Or maybe he’s just projecting.

He turns, and sure enough, you’re there.

Stunning. That’s the only thing he can think of. You smile beautifully at the photographers, working the crowd with ease. It was as if you were friends, had a solid rapport with them with the way you were conversing back and forth.

“Close your mouth. You look like a fucking basking shark,” Roy says, elbowing Jamie in the stomach.

He flinches back, giving Roy a shove in return. “Oi, what was that for?”

“You’re not gonna make a good impression with you gawking like a fucking idiot. Go say hi or something. Be fucking normal.”

Jamie sends Roy an affronted look. “I am normal, you old bastard. Just because we don’t act like how you did in the 1800s doesn’t mean I’m being an idiot.”

Roy just growls, shoving past him into the building.

Jamie takes a step forward to follow when a voice catches his attention.

“Hey! You’re Jamie Tartt, right?”

He turns on instinct, a winning smile already plastered on his face. “I’ll do autographs once—you.”

You raise your eyebrows slightly, waiting for him to go on. “Once I what?”

“You’re, um, you’re her.” He says your name, almost reverently.

Your grin widens, almost giddy. “You know who I am?”

“I follow you—” before he could say more, your manager rushes in behind you, ushering you inside. You wince at him, apologetic, before heading inside.

Jamie stands there, dumbfounded.

I follow you? That’s what he had to say? Now he really does sound like a stalker. He scrubs his hand over his face, groaning in disappointment.

He’s gonna make it up to you. He has to.

***

Inside, he sees he’s sat with Ted and Roy as well as a few other people and an empty seat next to him. He largely ignores his own table, trying to catch sight of you and not succeeding in the slightest. He huffs a sigh of annoyance, sliding into his seat.

Ted notices his glum aura, nodding sagely. “It’s the oysters, isn’t it? Because I know they have to try to make the flavour appeal to everyone but adding this much lemon is just downright insultin’.”

“It’s not the oysters, coach.”

Ted frowns. “The placemats? I was never really an eggshell white person myself but—”

“Jamie’s pining over an actress he thinks I don’t see him stalk on insta when he’s supposed to be running drills,” Roy cuts in, tired of Ted’s guessing.

“I’m not pining,” Jamie pouts, crossing his arms in a decidedly not childish way.

Before Roy could get another rebuttal out, the seat next to him is being filled, and once again he sees you, smiling at him. “Actresses are overrated,” you say, placing your napkin over your lap, “trust me.”

Jamie’s blood runs cold, convinced the universe is playing a cruel trick on him. Running into you is an absolute dream, he’d never deny that, but running into you with both Ted and Roy there? He may as well be taken out back and shot.

He must’ve been sitting there agape for too long, because before he knows it, Ted is reaching a hand over and giving yours a shake.

“Ted Lasso, it’s a pleasure to meet ya’. I absolutely loved you in that thriller that came out last June. Had me on the edge of my couch! And I know Jamie here liked it as well, he was bawling a right mess by the end of it.”

You turn to look at Jamie, and having the full force of your attention on him made him nearly choke on air. “Were you really?”

Jamie licks his lips, trying to gain some composure. “Bawling is sayin’ a lot, really. More like a reasonable cry.”

You nod along, clearly not buying it.

“I’ve been keeping up with your games this season. The goal you scored against West Ham the other day was seriously impressive. You were practically miles away from the net.”

Immediately, Jamie perked up. “You like football?”

“Well, I’m no expert, but I definitely try to watch all your games if I can.”

Jamie leans in, feeling bold and taking your hand in his. “Richmonds games? Or my games?”

You shrug. “Depends on the hair.”

He laughs, leaning back in his chair, body turned towards you. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.

#ari speaks #ari writes #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x y/n #ted lasso #jamie tartt fanfiction

216 notes · View notes

discokicks · 8 months

Text

BAD IDEAS (ON THE SAME PAGE) — JAMIE TARTT

a fic inspired by bad idea right by olivia rodrigo!

masterlist! song inspo! AO3!

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader (no use of y/n!)

summary: football star jamie tartt is an asshole. he’s the one ex of yours that your friends always hated, one that you now all joke about, and one you haven’t spoken to in four years. however, after a chance encounter, the two of you reconnect, and he leaves you with his new number and a hundred questions about his reformed personality. but seeing him tonight would be a bad idea, right?

word count & rating: 11k (wowza), M! (18+! minors get away or i’ll narc on you to your guardians)

warnings: SMUUUUUUT, porn with plot, lots of suggestive language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, sprinkling of a handjob, unprotected p in v (wrap it up kids), angst, mentions of alcohol, probable secondhand embarrassment, exes reuniting (it needs a warning sometimes), jamie tartt was an asshole and is now just a prick (in the best way possible), reader is a physio, major fluff, and swearing. also reader is american (bc the author is too. sorry </3)

authors note: well. i wrote it. olivia wrote this song for teenage girls in their twenties (me) only and i immediately thought of this fic the second i heard it. i'm calling this an exercise in smut writing before i embark on my aces (my roy kent series for my new friends) eventual-smut-adventure, so this evolved into something i wasn’t expecting but i had so much fucking fun writing it. god, i love jamie tartt. also! this is my first smut fic at this type of level, so go easy on me. hope you all enjoy. love you all tons! -mags

There are two universal truths in life.

The first is that the coffee shop you frequent on your way to work will and will always have the best cold brew you’ve ever tasted. The second is that Jamie Tartt will and will always be a massive fucking prick, and you’ll never see him again for as long as you live.

These are two things you live by, and while they may seem rather mundane or petty in the grand scheme of things, they are the only truths you can count on these days. Especially when everything else is so up in the air.

However, the universe doesn’t seem to believe in these things as blindly as you do, and this becomes evident the moment that you step into the shop on a gloomy Wednesday morning. Because these two truths (well, they’re fucking bald-faced lies now aren’t they, huh?) are broken within approximately two minutes of each other with seven words.

It began when you greeted Natalia, the barista who was here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday before your shift at the clinic with a wide smile. As soon as she saw your face, her expression turned apologetic, albeit a bit dazed.

“You’re gonna hate me,” she says, putting her hands on either side of the register. Your brows shot up at her words. “We just ran out of cold brew.”

Your face falls. “You’re kidding.”

“We were low on it this morning,” she starts to explain, “our stupid night-shifters didn’t prep enough last night. And it’s been selling like crazy today.”

“Seriously?” you nearly whine. “I might cry.”

“I’m sorry, Doc,” she apologizes, but she doesn’t sound too apologetic. Natalia’s eyes keep shifting to your left, the dazed look in her eye never faltering. Then, she says the fated seven words. “But he took the last of it.”

You turn your head in the direction she’s been looking, and your blood runs completely cold. You think you could drop dead and go to hell at this very moment, and it’d be a better existence than what awaits you in the next five minutes. And while this all may sound dramatic, you don’t care.

You don’t care because Jamie fucking Tartt is standing across from you, newly long hair peeking out from beneath his hood. He’s engrossed in whatever’s on his phone, fingers flying back and forth like he’s texting.

You think you could run. You’re pretty sure you could successfully make a break for it and leave Natalia high and dry without him seeing you. It’d be an easy exit, and you’d never have to see him again.

But then, as if he can feel your eyes on him, he looks up. And the second he meets your gaze, his face falls in what you can imagine was a similar fashion to yours.

Fuck.

Luckily, Natalia is none the wiser. She barely notices your expression, and with Jamie by the pick-up area, she can’t see the way he’s looking at you. So, instead of questioning you, she straight-up giggles.

“I know,” she practically squeals. “I was totally going to save you the last of it, but he asked for it. And I mean, c’mon. It’s Jamie Tartt. I couldn’t possibly say no to him.”

You tragically know that feeling all too well. Knowing you probably would have had a snappier, more cutting response to that if you weren’t in the most debilitating phase of shock, you settle for a quiet, “It’s okay.” You nod at her, brushing it off in an attempt to be casual. “I can settle for an espresso today.”

Natalia nods, tapping it into her register. “Same size as usual?”

“Yeah,” you say, not completely sure what you’re agreeing to. You glance over again at Jamie and find that he’s still standing there, staring at you, and you immediately blink away. “That’s fine.”

The rest of the transaction feels as though it takes a millennium and three seconds all at once. You’re still caught off guard by the time Natalia gives you your receipt with a dazed look in your eye that now matches hers.

However, yours isn’t because you just saw your favorite Richmond player or your favorite reality show villain. It’s because you’ve just seen your ex-boyfriend and you’re about to walk over and stand next to him for a prolonged period of time.

Nothing about this scenario feels real. You hadn’t seen him in four years. Not since things ended as ugly as they had, with him leaving you sobbing outside of a club at three in the morning, letting you know that things were over between you two. And he hadn’t even given you a reason. It was just that he wasn’t ‘feeling’ it anymore.

You saw in a tabloid about three months later that he was now seeing Keeley Jones (yeah, having to compete with that did not sit well with you at all) and had drawn your assumptions from there. Whether or not he’d been seeing her behind your back or had broken up with you to be with her, you didn’t know. You didn’t care. You were in your anger stage of the break-up and only knew one thing.

Jamie Tartt was a massive fucking prick, and you’d sooner walk on a bed of nails before you saw him again.

But now here he was. And there were no nails to be found.

You avoid eye contact as you pass him to wait for your coffee. There’s a piece of you that wants to say hi and play it cool, just to put on a show for him about how unaffected you were by everything that had happened. The other piece of you hopes that not a word is said for your entire time here.

Unfortunately, neither of those happen.

Jamie slides over to be near you, awkwardly rocking back and forth on his heels. His hands are stuffed in his sweatshirt pocket, and you wait for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t.

Instead, you can feel the ‘play it cool’ part of you rise up to the surface. You could do this. You could feign indifference. Fuck him, you could be cool.

You glance over at him and see that he’s pressing his lips together, eyes shifting around the coffee shop. It’s crazy how familiar you still are with his tells to know he’s desperately looking for a way to say something.

You say it for him. “Hi,” you say simply. Cool and unaffected.

It’s as if the one word alone makes him flinch. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to say anything. “Hi—” He clears his throat after his greeting comes out cracked, and he stuffs his hands further in his pockets. “Hey.”

The awkwardness of this moment is killing you, and it’s taking everything in you to pretend like it's not. As you search for something else to say, you land on, “You took my cold brew.”

You can see his brows shoot up out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, fuck, did I?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah,” you tell him. “I come in here every morning. Friends with the barista. Said she was going to save me the last of it, but…” You trail off and finally look at him. “She couldn’t say no to Jamie Tartt, apparently.”

You want to jump up and down about how well you’re doing right now. Maybe you are over him. Maybe you’ve finally moved past this shit, and seeing him once more is all you needed to solidify that. Maybe—

The second he chuckles softly with an apologetic smile, your confidence in those things shoots down. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Since when do you drink cold brew, anyway?” you ask, frustrated with the fact that he’s fucking laughing in front of you. “You were always a like, caramel macchiato or frappuccino asshole.”

The names make him laugh harder, shaking his head. “Don’t like those anymore,” he responds. “Sugar hurts me teeth. Tryin’ somethin’ new.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “My fucking coffee.”

That chuckle continues with a shrug. “I’m sorry.” he says again. Then he pauses. “But it’s not like your name was on it, or anythin’.”

Your face draws blank, and immediately, Jamie can tell he’s made a misstep. And it’s not that you’re angry about the joke, it’s just the… everything. Him. The situation. Everything you can remember that you wonder if he bothers to remember too.

Before you can walk away, you feel his hand on your arm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats for a third time, turning you so that you’ll look at him. Your pissed-off expression meets his easy smile and it only fuels your anger more. “I was jokin’. I’m sorry I took your coffee. We can get ‘em to put your name on it if you want.”

“Whatever,” you mutter. It’s not the most mature thing you could have said, but frankly, you don’t care. You just want to get your consolation espresso and get the hell out of here. “What are you even doing over here anyway?”

You’re not sure why you ask it. You don’t know why you keep the conversation going. Jamie looks just as surprised as you are. “I moved over here a couple weeks ago,” he answers. “Got sick of the old place.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you reply. By the way that Jamie snorts, you know he recalls just how much you hated his apartment when you knew him. It screamed twenty-two-year-old AFC-money shithead and you would tease him about it constantly. “Was the empty beer bottle sculpture finally giving you mold poisoning?”

He chuckles again. “That came down shortly after we stopped talking.”

“Oh, so I was just lucky enough to see it in its final days?”

“Oi,” he says, pointing at you. “That thing was fuckin’ impressive and you know it.”

“Impressive in a dorm,” you shoot back. “Not a seven million pound flat.”

He bows his head in a guilty manner. “You remember that, huh?”

“Hard not to,” you answer. “You never stopped talking about it.”

He at least has the decency to wince at that one. “I know,” he says earnestly. It makes you look at him. He shrugs once more. “I wanted to impress ya.”

He did impress you. But not with things like that. He’d impress you when you watched him play, he’d impress you when he made you laugh, and he’d impress you on the rare occasion that he’d just be himself in front of you. Not some asshole footballer. Just him.

But you don’t say that. You say, “That wasn’t the way.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Got that now.” He rocks back on his heels again, like he’s not sure if he should say whatever he wants to. “I was a proper fucking dick to you, wasn’t I?”

That almost makes you fall over. Did he just say that? Did he actually just admit that? Out loud, here, for everyone to hear? Accountability? Unprompted? From Jamie Tartt?

You want to glance around to see if Rod Sterling’s going to emerge from the bathroom to narrate the next couple of minutes of your life, but are too shocked to do so.

Your surprise must show in your eyes, because Jamie laughs to himself. “Yeah. Wild, innit?” He shakes his head. “On a bit of an apology tour this year. Trying to build back some bridges, or whatever.”

The nod you give him is slow, still reeling from all of this. “Right,” you say lamely. “Building bridges.”

“I’m serious,” he tells you and for a brief moment, you think he may just mean it. The sincerity in his eyes is clear. “I was terrible to you. And I’m sorry.”

Whatever you were expecting when you stepped into this coffee shop on this rainy Wednesday, it certainly wasn’t this. And you certainly weren’t expecting your first time reuniting with him to go this way— with him apologizing to you. The actual words ‘I’m sorry’ just left his mouth.

You genuinely don’t know who this is. Because it’s certainly not the Jamie you knew.

You saw flashes of this guy. Quiet moments during your short-lived relationship, typically when it was just the two of you. It’s the type of guy you always knew he could be if he tried. The type of guy you pushed him to be.

(Your friends always taunted you about having the ever-horrendous I-can-fix-him gene, and they never quite let go of it. But it’s not like it wasn’t true.)

Those flashes are why you held out for as long as you did. If it were anyone else, any other asshole who treated you the way he did, you would have dropped them in a second. But he wasn’t like that. Not always, at least.

It was terrible to think like that. You’d been in a low spot when you’d met him and had taken even lower when he left you. You’d recovered tenfold from that and now knew your worth.

But as he stands in front of you, apologizing, genuinely apologizing, and looking at you like that, you start to question it.

No! the logical part of your brain practically screams. Don’t you fucking dare.

You’re keen to listen to that for the time being. It hardens you. And all you can do is nod at him again. “Well, uh—” Your voice comes out hoarse. You cough awkwardly. “Yeah. You were. Terrible to me. And, uh… thank you. For saying that.”

So much for playing it cool. You want to slam your head up against the wall but hold yourself back from doing so.

He nods at you, opening his mouth to say something else before he’s interrupted by one of the baristas calling your name. His cold brew’s sitting on the counter too, something the two of you clearly missed in the middle of your conversation.

When you reach for your drink, he grabs his too. He’s still staring at you, biting the inside of his cheek like he wants to say something. When you go to move around him, he stops you.

“Look, I just—” You look up at him expectantly, and his shoulders deflate. “I know you probably want nothin' to do with me. But, I just… I want to talk to you.”

Your espresso is hot in your hands. “Well, that sounds like a you problem.”

That’s when he says your name. Your actual name. Not the nickname that everyone calls you, not a pet name that he used to use, he says your name. And it makes you stop in your tracks.

It’s so stupid. It’s so fucking dumb that your fucking name can send you back to the day you first met him and were completely taken with him. You hate it. And you hate the way it makes your walls come crumbling down.

“Please,” he begs. “Can we… Can I at least give you my number? It’s a new one, but I-I think I’ve still got yours. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. But just so you can… I don’t know? Think about it?”

You wouldn’t know if he still had your number. You blocked him ages ago. But you doubt it.

However, the more you think about it, the more you consider it. It’s the product of your resolve falling and well, everything else about him now. You think about it.

If you allowed him to give you his number, the ball would be in your court. You could do what you wanted with it. You could text him, you could tell him to fuck off, you could ignore him. It was up to you.

And you don’t know if that’s worse or better.

You decide on better. The second you sigh, Jamie knows he’s got you. A wide grin breaks out on his face as you hand him your phone. “I’ll think about it,” you mutter.

That’s good enough for him. He gives your phone back to you, new number inserted and new contact created. You’re glad he didn’t search for his old one. That one just says ASSHOLE in big capital letters with about a million gun emojis.

(That was done by your previous roommates in an effort to get you to move on from him. You thought it was a bit overdramatic. You were never one for emojis.)

He’s smiling when he holds his coffee out for you. You stare at him blankly, thinking he’s attempting to cheers you. Instead, he shakes his head and says, “Take it.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“Trade with me,” he clarifies and your expression turns to one of shock. “C’mon. You said it’s yours anyway, right?” When you don’t move he rolls his eyes. “Offer’s only good for another second. Me arm’s getting tired.”

At that, you sigh rather dramatically and grumble to yourself, trying not to act pleased by the gesture. You hand him your coffee and he gives you his. “Thanks,” you say. It was kind of him.

His grin returns and he nods at you. “Alright,” he says. After a slightly awkward beat, he steps back from you. “It was good to see you, Doc. Really.” You’re taken back by how genuine his voice sounds and say nothing in return. “I’ll talk to you later?”

He says it as a question, hopeful and well-meaning. “Yeah,” you tell him noncommittally. “Maybe.”

That too, is good enough for him. Because he sends you one more smile, then walks out of the coffee shop with your espresso in hand.

You’re still reeling from the interaction when you glance down at his your cold brew and see Natalia’s handwriting. She’s made it just as you like it, down to the milk and everything.

But below it is a small drawing. It’s a tiny shark fin with a #9 written inside, with little lettering circling around it.

Doo-doo-do-doo-do-do-doo.

You’re fucked.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” is the question that your best friend and former roommate Leah screams at you over drinks at a busy rooftop bar. So busy, in fact, that barely anyone looks over at the two of you.

You’d made the mistake of telling Leah that not only had you run into Jamie on Wednesday, but you’d let him give you his number.

And you’d texted him after hours of deliberation.

It was something innocent, something you’d thought way too much about, but innocent still. You weren’t sure if you were ready to actually talk to him, but there was something about texting him that wasn’t so scary. Your guard was clearly still up, evident by how dry you were in your messages, and you were keeping your distance. You never texted back too quickly, didn’t ask many questions, and often left him on read.

(Yeah, you’d turned your read receipts on for him. What about it?)

Your first text was a simple enough question, something that you’d been genuinely wondering about since you saw him. It was open enough for a conversation but not too forward. how’d you know my coffee order?

His response came in minutes later. Is that yours? Good taste. It was shortly followed up with, That espresso you drink was fucking disgusting though.

And that was that. That was how you started texting your ex again. That’s how you reconnected yourself with Jamie Tartt. That’s how you knew it was over for you.

And that’s how you’re pretty sure you’re about to kill your best friend.

Leah’s eyes were wild, somehow angry yet still disbelieving yet intrigued. But the intrigue was very minimal. Very minimal. It was hidden well by how pissed off she was at you.

She had every right to be pissed at you. She was the one who always warned you about him. She’d straight-up nursed you back to health when you broke up. She was the one who had to hear about him 24 hours a day until you were finally over him.

Leah had had a year of peace. And now you were killing her for good.

“You’re kidding, right?” she follows up with. Her grip on your arm is tight. “Please tell me your kidding.”

“Leah…” Your voice is weak.

It tells her everything she needs to know. “Oh, my God! Oh, my. God.” She puts her face in her hands. “You’re insane. You’re fucking losing it and we need to have you checked out right now.”

“I’m completely sentient and in control of my own body.”

“Are you sure?”

You sip at your cocktail. “I reset a knee today. I’m pretty sure.”

“I think you might need to reconsider,” she says. “Because you just told me that not only are you talking to Jamie Tartt again, but you were the one who instigated it!”

You deserve this verbal beatdown and you know it. But all you can do is shrug. “Technically, he gave me his number. He’s the one who instigated it.”

“I’m gonna throw my fucking drink in your face,” Leah threatens, gripping her glass in warning.

You roll your eyes at her. “Nothing’s gonna happen,” you say, even though you know you’re probably lying. Leah knows this too. “We’ve just been texting a little. It’s nothing serious.”

“Yeah, sure,” she deadpans. “Right. And even if I did believe you, what happens if it does? What happens if you get back in your weird, scary Jamie phase and he kills you again? I can’t deal with that.”

“That’s not going to happen,” you assure her, and this time it’s more confident. Because you know you won’t. Not this time. Not if anything happens.

You’d met Jamie when you were twenty-two. You were in your first year of your Masters program, slightly lost as in your move to London to finish your journey to become a physical therapist. Or a physio, as they called it here. Whatever. You couldn’t keep up with the names.

You were shadowing a physio at the clinic you now worked at, assisting him as a part of your internship at one of the football tournaments the clinic worked at. It was a ton of big-wig footballers, some names you recognized, others you didn’t. But it didn’t matter. They were precious fucking cargo and you were so paranoid about screwing up that you barely registered who they were when you worked on them.

That was, until a twenty-two-year-old Jamie Tartt sprained his ankle and plopped himself down on your doctor’s bench. He looked at you, you assisted him, and you were wrapped up in what you were doing that you didn’t even notice he was flirting with you.

You didn’t realize until he asked you out. And the rest was history, for better or for worse.

You were surprised he went for you. You knew who Jamie was, what type of girls he liked to be seen with. They were singers and models and actresses. They weren’t you.

(Perhaps that’s one of the reasons you liked him so much. Because he chose you. You didn’t like to think about that phase of your life.)

But after six months of seeing him, he ended things out of nowhere. Right when you’d settled on the idea that despite it all, you might be in love with him. And that was that.

You hadn’t seen him since. Not until this week.

“Not gonna happen my ass,” Leah scoffs, bringing you back into the conversation at hand.

A sigh of frustration leaves your lips. “Listen, I know it’s a bad idea;” you tell her. “I know it is. But, I don’t know. There was something different about him, Leah. He was just… like not someone I recognized.”

“Maybe because his hair is fucking long and stupid now.” She brings her glass to her lips. “His highlights look horrendous.”

“I actually like his hair like this,” you admit, earning yet another eye roll. “Listen. I’m not saying he’s changed. He probably hasn’t. But I…” You trail off with a shrug. “I don’t know. What if he has?”

Leah’s looking at you like you’re the dumbest person she’s ever met in her life. “Are you hearing yourself right now?” she asks incredulously. “Babe, he was a prick to you. Like, category-five, prestige-level twat. Like, worst boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“I know,” you repeat. “And I said nothing’s going to happen. But if it does, and it goes south, I give you full permission to say I-told-you-so for the rest of my life, alright?”

Leah bites the inside of her cheek, shaking her head. “Whatever,” she says. After a moment, she glances over at you. “I’m just looking out for you, y’know. I don’t want to see you hurt again. And I definitely don’t want him to be the reason for that hurt again.”

You grab her hand. “I know,” you say once more. “And I love you for it. But if I’m gonna be stupid, I’m fully aware of when I’m gonna do it. And it’s gonna be my own fault.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you before Leah nods. “Okay,” she finally says. “Okay. Fine. Your fucking funeral.”

“I’ll let you give the eulogy and allow you to call me a dumb bitch for ten minutes straight.”

“Sold,” Leah says, pointing at you. That slight intrigue you previously saw in her eye returns. “Okay, now that I’ve yelled at you, you need to tell me everything.”

And so you do. You tell her how he took your coffee, how you nearly threw up the second you saw him, how you played it cool until you didn’t. How he apologized to you. Joked around with you. Apologized some more. And then he gave you his coffee.

You despise how excited you sound about it. Again, you’re trying to play it cool, but the people that know you the best can always see right through you. You’re excited about it. Excited about him.

It’s a bad idea to be excited about him.

It’s a bad idea to look down at your phone after you and Leah order another drink. Your heart stops when you see he’s texted you.

It’s a bad idea to open the message when Leah excuses herself to go to the bathroom. What are you up to tonight?

It’s past midnight on a Saturday and he’s texting you. It’s still preseason for him, so he might be drunk, he may not be. You’re three drinks deep and aren’t sure if you are.

It’s a bad idea to respond to him. getting drinks with a friend. You keep it dry.

It’s a bad idea to not look down at your phone until you finish the drinks you ordered. Because now, you’re definitely drunk and looking at it all with new eyes.

Would you want to hang out tonight? No pressure.

It’s a bad idea to consider it.

But it’s a worse idea to agree.

text me your new address. i can be there by 1:30.

Before you know what you’re doing, you’re knocking on Jamie’s door, intertwining your fingers together when you realize you’re shaking.

The second you do it, you regret it. You’re no longer feeling the effects of your drinks. It wore off on the Uber ride over here. And everything seems like a terrible idea now.

God, what were you doing? He treated you like that and the second you see him again, you go running back? He was an asshole. He’d made you question everything about yourself, he’d made you cry, he’d made you experience every fucking emotion in the book and all it took is one text for you to be back on his doorstep?

Your roommate was right. This was a horrendous idea and you were an idiot.

However, none of that matters. It doesn’t matter because Jamie Tartt’s opening his door and he’s got a stupid fucking smile on his face. And the second you see it, you know there’s no turning back.

“Hey,” he says as he opens the door. “You alright, love?”

You clench your jaw at the name, at his smile, about how casual he’s being, about everything. “Hey,” you say, avoiding his eyes to look around his flat.

It’s a complete 180 from what he had when he first joined Richmond and what he had when you knew him. It’s a bit less mojo-dojo-casa-house-looking and something more mature. While you can still tell that a twenty-something guy definitely lives here, it’s decorated well, it’s put together, and it’s clean. No beer bottle sculptures in sight. He’s even got a fucking candle burning on his counter. Who the fuck is this and what did he do with the guy you knew?

Jamie follows you as you enter, wiping his hands on his sweatpants. “You find the place okay?”

His question snaps you out of your flat-induced haze. “Yeah,” you reply. You clear your throat. “This is nice.”

That same, stupid smile returns, but it looks a bit nervous. “Yeah. I told you it was a bit different, huh?” he chuckles. He walks toward his island, rounding it as he speaks. “Needed a fresh start or whatever. The old one was gettin’... old.” He watches you as you nod, continuing to look around. “You still in the same place with the same people?”

“Uh, no. Different place. No people,” you answer. You’ve stayed on your side of the counter, actively keeping your distance. “Willa moved to New York last year and Leah moved with her boyfriend. We live in the same building, though, which is nice.”

The small talk is fucking killing you. You’re not even sure if he cared to remember your previous roommates' names, so this all could be pointless. You can’t believe you’re here. You can’t believe you’re actually standing here, talking to him about the past.

But as you finish speaking, he nods like he’s listening. Maybe he is listening. Maybe he does remember.

“I’ll have to see that sometime,” he ends up saying, and the implication of it makes your head spin. He wants to see you again. Or he just learned small talk common courtesy. Whatever it is, it’s driving you insane. You have so many questions for him, so many things to say, and as he wipes his hands on his pants again and nods over to his kitchen, he asks, “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got—”

“Why did you invite me here, Jamie?” The question comes spilling out of you, rushed as if it were waiting on the tip of your tongue and simply couldn’t stand to stay in any longer. Jamie stops in his tracks to blink at you. The look on his face encourages you to go on. “I mean, I know I texted you first. But why… why did you text me tonight? Why’d you—” You grimace, trying to find the right words. “Why’d you give me your number?”

He’s silent for a moment. Thinking. Evaluating. But his eyes haven’t left you. “Because I wanted you here,” he finally says. You cross your arms over your chest as he takes a step toward you. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you.”

You want to say that you’ve been driven crazy all week because you feel same, but decide against it. Instead, you look away from him and scoff. “Right.”

“I’m serious,” he tells you, and your heart stops with every step he takes. “I felt like I was goin’ insane. I didn’t…” For a flash of a second, he looks shy. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. And I didn’t think you’d actually text me. I mean, I hoped you would, but…”

He’s right in front of you, but you still refuse to look at him. Your gaze has shifted to the floor. “I shouldn’t have,” you mutter.

The asshole has the nerve to chuckle, but it’s nervous. Your stomach churns. You’re not sure if you’ve ever heard him nervous. “No, you probably shouldn’t have,” he agrees. “I don’t deserve it.” He pauses and your throat starts to tighten. “I didn’t deserve you.”

That makes you look at him. Either he’s actually apologetic about everything, or he’s gotten really good at knowing everything you want to hear. “No. You didn’t.”

His fingers tentatively brush your arm and you allow him to take your hand. “I know,” he says. “I was a fucking prick. I get that now. I should never have… done that shit to ya.” You’re close enough to him now that if you moved an inch, his forehead would be up against yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth, pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it. The action makes your throat tighten. “And I can’t fix it. But I…” He trails off again and looks you dead in the eye once he has the words. “I want to make it up to you.”

Your resolve is getting weaker and you hate yourself for it. You lean back against the counter, like that will put space between you two. “Jamie…”

“Please,” he whispers. His forehead finally meets yours. You can feel his breath on your lips. You don’t pull away. “Let me make it up to you.”

The last front you have standing weakly presents itself. “If you think,” you begin, breath shuddering as his hand meets your neck, “that one 2 AM hookup is going to make up for what you did, I—”

“I know it won’t,” he says, and it sounds like he does know. “But I want it to be a start.” The fingers on your neck are now tracing your jaw. And they tighten when he says, “Let me show you just how sorry I am, yeah? Let me make it fucking good for you.”

Jesus fucking Christ. That last front dissolves the second he says that, and your logic flips on itself. You came over here for a reason. You knew what this was. At least you got an overdue apology. Whether or not he meant it, is still up in the air, but if he’s promising things like that, then you might as well get something out of it.

You struggle to get a word out, so you nod against his hand. “O-Okay,” you finally stammer out. The way he’s looking at you gives you enough confidence to say, “Fine. Make it up to me.”

Jamie’s lips curl into a smirk and say, “As you wish,” before they’re on yours.

He’s softer than you remember. His lips aren’t chapped, he isn’t as aggressive with it, and he isn’t as rushed. Everything about him feels more mature and you struggle to understand how fast he could have changed in four years. But you’re not complaining. Not when he’s kissing you like this, with more practice and passion than you can ever recall.

His hand unlocks from yours to slide it up your sweatshirt, and it’s surprisingly warm against your back. Still, you shiver from the contact and you can feel him smirk once more against your lips.

The action alone prompts you to fork a hand in his hair and tug at it slightly, reveling in the soft sound that escapes him. Everything about him comes back to you at once, and you’ve never been happier to know that the same things still get him. If he wants to play it like that, you can keep up.

His hands drop to grab your thighs and lift you onto the counter, breaking the kiss momentarily. Your chest is heaving up and down, lips swollen and wet. Jamie appears to be in the same boat. “Fuck,” he whispers, sounding even more out of breath than you. He dips his head to press a kiss to your neck, nose rubbing against it as he makes his way down. “You look fucking gorgeous, by the way. Meant to tell you that at the shop.”

You’re too caught up in it all to play it cool, especially as he works at that one spot on your neck. “You look— fuck, you look good too. The long hair suits you.”

You feel him grin against your neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree breathily. “Looked like a prick with the old cut.”

You feel his teeth dig into your skin at that one, and you hiss. “You liked that prick,” he reminds you.

You were in love with that prick, but you ignore that thought. “I liked a lot of things about him,” you respond. While it’s honest, the accidental double meaning of it isn’t lost on you.

It’s certainly not lost on Jamie. “Yeah?” he asks again. He lifts his head to look at you, hand creeping up your leg. “What’d you like?” You grip his arm as it rises beneath your sweatshirt once more. “C’mon love. Tell me what you want.”

You hate the way your breath hitches the second his fingers meet your back. You know what you want. You want to see what he’s learned since you last had him. What he’s like four years later. What’s changed, what’s stayed the same. But you’re too embarrassed and much too proud to ask.

Instead, you decide to say, much too shyly for your liking, “You know what I want.”

He hums in agreement, other hand creeping dangerously close to the inside of your thigh. “I do, don’t I?” he murmurs. “Bet I know everything ya want. But I wanna hear you say it.”

“Oh my, God,” you say under your breath, frustration creeping into your voice. The asshole fucking laughs at you. “I want you to make good on your promise. This seems far from it.”

“Right, right, I’m sorry,” he tells you. He doesn’t sound sorry at all. “Just making sure we’re still, y’know. On the same page.” He glances at you. “Right?”

You blink at him. You’re not sure you could have been clearer about what page you’re on. But that’s not what surprises you. What surprises you is the seriousness in his eyes. How he’s searching for assurance in yours. And you know that if, for whatever godly reason, you wanted to stop, he’d pull away immediately, despite how worked up he clearly is.

It's the bare fucking minimum, but it's more than you’re used to getting.

So, you nod. “Yeah,” you say. “Definitely on the same page.”

The grin he breaks out to is nothing short of breathtaking. “Good.”

“But—” you suddenly say, stopping him from leaning in once more. He freezes beneath your touch, brows furrowing. “This is… This is a one-time thing. You’re…” You trail off to find the word. “You’re apologizing to me. That’s all this is.”

His smile falters, dropping momentarily before returning with a bit less radiance. It’s his turn to nod. “Okay,” he says, fingers now toying with the edge of your sweatshirt. “Gotta make it count, then.”

And with that, Jamie presses his lips back to yours, grabbing you securely and pulling you off the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist, grabbing the sides of his face, like that’ll stable you against him.

This time, it’s more desperate. It’s more tongues and teeth, more force and intention behind each movement. He’s setting the pace, but you’re keeping up tenfold. While it’d been four years, you’re not sure if he’d ever kissed you like this. He’s passionate instead of aggressive. While he knows what he wants, he’s definitely not just going to take it. He may be leading but he’s listening to you. And that stirs something inside you that you haven’t felt in a long time.

That much is clear, because you unconsciously let out a quiet sound against his lips. You can feel him smiling once more as he walks you slowly to wherever the hell his bedroom is. You’re caught up in him. And by the way he’s gripping you, you can tell he’s just as caught up in you.

So much so, that he completely loses track of where he’s going and accidentally slams you into his doorframe. You yelp, more because of shock than pain, and pull away to glare at him.

Jamie’s already apologizing. “Sorry, sorry,” he says. “Still gettin’ used to this place.”

“Well, figure out how to navigate better,” you respond, verging on a pout as you rub the back of your head.

“I’m sorry!” he repeats. He’s still got you against the doorframe. “It’s hard to see with your big head in me face. And I can’t kiss ya with, like, my eyes open. It’d be freaky.”

“I’ll give you a pass for that one,” you reply dryly. “Be weird instead of giving me a concussion.”

He’s walking you toward the bed when he mutters, “I’ll give you something, alright.”

Your back meets the mattress and you try to ignore the way he held his hand behind your head when he laid you down. You have under a second to adjust before he’s on top of you. The desperation returns and it almost takes your breath away.

He’s essentially straddling you, tugging at the waist of your leggings before he leaves one last kiss on your lips. He finally gets to pull your sweatshirt off, something he’d clearly been dying to rid you of since he first kissed you. You lift your arms up to help him, finding that you quickly start to do the same to him. You hear him chuckle as you attempt to get it up his back.

“I got it, love, hold on,” he says softly, tossing your hoodie to the side to take off his own. Your eyes immediately go to his chest and stomach and you refrain from reaching out to touch him. When you look up at him, you expect him to be smirking. However, he’s doing the exact opposite.

Jamie’s looking down at you like he can’t fucking believe you’re real. It’s jarring, seeing him like this, but you figure he’s in the same headspace as you and is still struggling to process that this is happening. It doesn’t matter, because before you can question it, he’s moving to press a kiss to your collarbone.

Your hand falls into his hair as he works his way down, mouthing the area of your chest. He pauses before he gets to the bra you’re wearing. His eyes flick up to yours. “Can I—”

You’re nodding before he can even get the words out, shifting to make it easier for him. He discards it to the floor with the rest. When he looks back at you, he releases a shaky breath and just stares.

He stares so intently that you begin to get self-conscious. “What?” you ask.

The question takes Jamie out of his trance. He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “I just— I… Fuck. I forgot how beautiful you were.”

That spreads a warmth through you, one that pulls at your core. As you feel your face heat, you realize you have nothing to say to that. Luckily, he’s already moving on.

Jamie’s different. Really different. And you don’t realize how different he is until you start looking at him like you are right now. You were trying to convince yourself when you told Leah that he’d changed, you’ll admit that. But right now, you think you may have been telling the truth.

He grabs the waist of your leggings once more, lifting your legs to pull them off. You can’t help the laugh that leaves your lips as he struggles to do so. He shakes his head with a soft smile. “Missed that.”

“What?” you ask again.

“Your laugh,” he replies. “Missed that more than you know.”

The sweet words hit you like a bullet. The vulnerability in his voice is what gets you. Goddammit, when did he get so fucking nice? It drives you insane. But it also makes you quietly admit, “I think I’ve got an idea.”

With your leggings now gone, Jamie’s smile turns fonder. Gentler. He presses a kiss to your leg but says nothing in response. He simply places your legs down, eyes flicking down. He lifts his hand to trace down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your panties. The feeling makes you flinch.

He hooks a finger in the band, and your hips buck up to encourage him. His other hand spreads across your hip in a poor effort to keep you still. “Easy,” he murmurs.

You huff out a breath. “You can—” Your breath hitches as two of his fingers push into your underwear. “Fuck, you can take them off.”

His lips quirk up. “Well, thank you for the permission,” he says. “But not yet. I wanna take it slow with ya.”

Your mouth parts. “Why?”

“Because it’s been years since I’ve seen you,” he answers, moving up to kiss you softly. He speaks against your lips as he says, “And I’ve apparently only got one shot to do this right. So I’m gonna make this last.”

You roll your eyes at his terribly disguised jab. “You’re a dick,” you mutter against him.

“And you’re—” He cuts himself off and a gasp escapes your lips as he cups your core and rubs his palm against it. “Fuck, love. You’re really fucking wet.” He’s positioned on you so that you can feel him getting harder against you thigh. “This all for me, yeah?”

His voice is cocky, while still sounding awestruck. The remaining dignity you have left makes you roll your eyes, albeit a bit embarrassed. “It’s for whoever doesn’t take their fucking time to give me what I want,” you bite.

Jamie draws back from you with a full smirk on his face. “That so?” he asks. The hand against you starts creeping up to the band of your panties. “And what is it that you want? You still haven’t told me.”

You scoff. “I told you.”

He pulls your underwear down your legs and the air around you suddenly makes you realize just how exposed you are. You told yourself you’d never give him the satisfaction of seeing you like this again. But here you were.

His fingers brush against the inside of your thigh, and you shiver once more. “No,” he tells you gently. “You didn’t. You just said you wanted me to keep my promise. You didn’t tell me what you wanted.”

He’s moving closer and closer to the place you want him and you don’t know if you can take it anymore. You shift uncomfortably, as if that will cease the ache. But you know only one thing will.

So, you give him the answer he’s been waiting for this entire time. “You.” His gaze meets yours. “I want you, Jamie. Please.”

That breathtaking grin returns. “Just because you asked so nicely.”

And then he puts his mouth on you without warning.

You spasm at the contact, crying out as he uses both arms to hold you still. The second you calm down, one hand leaves your thigh and you feel him work two fingers into you. Fuck. He didn’t know that before.

And it’s not like he was ever bad in bed when you two were together. You’re not sure you would have stayed with him if that were the case. It’s just… he’s better now. He’s hitting everything nearly perfectly, not stumbling like he used to. He’s more confident. More assured. He knows what he’s doing.

And it’s fucking hot.

The sounds that fill his room are downright obscene. He’s gripping one side of you to keep you in place, splitting you open on his knuckles with the other. His mouth zeroes in on your clit, alternating between licking and sucking in a way that honestly has you close already.

“F-fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, Jamie. Don’t st— shit. Don’t stop. Please.”

Of course, the fucking shit he is, stops. He grins up at you, but continues to slowly pump his fingers in and out. “You sound so fucking pretty begging like that,” he tells you. He’s just as out of breath as you are. He feels you clench around his fingers at the praise and it only eggs him on further. “Look so pretty too. Fucking gorgeous.”

“Jamie,” you whine again. He’s going too slow. Teasing. It’s not fucking fair. He’s supposed to be the one apologizing to you. “I need— Ngh. I need—”

“What do you need?” he asks. “Tell me.”

You think you’d kill him if you weren’t completely incapacitated. “More,” you manage to get out, wincing as he continues at his slow pace. You’re close. Embarrassingly close. “Just fucking more. Please. I’m—” You interrupt yourself with a moan as he shoves his fingers deeper into you.

“I know,” he nearly coos. “I’ve got you.”

And got you he does. Because not only does he pick up the pace, he stretches you with a third finger. The sting of it is momentary, and it subsides as soon as he bends down and swipes your clit with his tongue.

Your back arches. “Jesus fucking— Jamie. Oh, my God.”

He’s good. Of course, he’s fucking good. He’s Jamie Tartt. You’re not sure he’s ever been bad at anything physical in his life. Emotionally was another story. But that story didn’t matter right now. Not when he’s got you like this, and you’re teetering over the edge.

He pulls away from you, breath tickling your core as he speaks. “C’mon,” he chides. “I can feel it. You’re right there, aren’t you, love?” He takes your breathy silence as confirmation and nods to himself. “Yeah. You just need—”

He removes one finger and crooks the rest a certain way, deeper than before. Your heart may stop beating. He’s done something he did to you time and time again, something that he was actually really fucking good at, something he knew you liked years ago. When he looks up at you, he searches your eyes. And by the way they roll back, he knows he’s struck gold.

The smirk returns and he continues to work his fingers into you, smirk growing each time he hears you say his name. “Yeah,” he whispers. “That’s it. That’s still it.”

You could finish at any moment. The telltale heat is rising in your stomach, and you’re just waiting for the cord to snap. And then, as if your muscle memory takes over, you reach out for his arm.

But instead of letting you do it like before, he does something completely different. He intertwines his free hand with the back of yours and guides it to your stomach. And then he presses on your hand.

The pressure builds. You’re barely able to make any noise. And then—

“C’mon,” Jamie repeats. “Come for me, angel. I wanna see it.”

The cord snaps, and you do as you’re told. You come. Hard.

Jamie talks you through it, fingers still moving to coax your climax out of you. You’re sure you look pathetic, crying out and thrashing around in his bed, but you don’t care. You can barely fucking see right now.

It’s been a while for you. Or at least been a while since you’ve had anything that good. And it completely strips away any sort of attitude or frustration you had before.

When you finally come back down, you laugh softly, shaking your head and throwing your arm over your face. “Fuck,” you say through a chuckle.

You feel him shift, moving up the bed to hover over you once more. When he removes your arm from your eyes, you see that he’s smiling. “Nobody’s ever laughed after I’ve done that,” he tells you, a faux pout pulling at his lips. He bends down to press them to yours and you can taste yourself. “It better be a good fuckin’ sign.”

You laugh again, reaching up to cup his cheek and pull him into another kiss. “Very good sign,” you assure him. It’s muffled against him, but you think he gets the point.

It’s then that you catch him by surprise and flip the two of you over, straddling him in a way that makes him release a breathy sound that you’d missed dearly. But, something feels off.

Your glance down at him, expecting to feel or see fabric once you reach his leg. But there’s not much. Only what feels like boxer shorts. It catches you off guard. When did he take off his—

It doesn’t matter. It’s easier for you now. Especially as your fingers move across his abdomen, biting back a grin at the way he shudders. He looks up at you from his pillow.

“What are you doing?” he asks leadingly.

You shrug innocently, fingers toying with the band hanging low on his hips. “Returning the favor,” you reply.

Jamie makes a noise of disapproval, placing a hand on your thigh like that’ll stop you. “I’m supposed to be the one making it up to you,” he states, but his voice gets less firm as you cup him through the fabric. “Fuck. Y-You don’t owe me anythin’. No favors.”

You shake your head, pulling at his boxers so that he springs free from inside. Your eyes travel back to his as you reach out and gently grab his cock, staring down at him with a smirk dancing on your lips. “You sure?”

He looks pained. You don’t know why. You’re offering a way to take him out of his misery. But still, he shakes his head and moves his arm from your leg to your back.

He takes his turn to flip you over next. He swears under his breath as he does so, shaking his head when you land on your back.

“I told you,” he says, taking his boxers all the way off now. “It’s about you. Not me.” He shakes his head again, but this time it’s a bit more frustrated. When he speaks, it’s mostly to himself. “Can’t believe I just fuckin’ said no to that.”

A snort escapes you. “You’re a changed man, Jamie Tartt,” you joke.

He shrugs before placing his arms on either side of you. His voice teeters on teasing and earnest. “I’ve been trying to tell ya that.”

You’re not sure if it’s him, or the situation, or the sex, but you think you believe him. It makes your chest heavy. But you can’t admit that. You won’t let yourself. So, you keep that feeling tucked away, way in the back of your mind for safekeeping. You know it’s better like that. For your emotional sake, at least.

You allow yourself to prop yourself up on your elbow and kiss him instead of responding to that, bringing him in closer. You can feel the length of him press against your stomach, and his groan vibrates against your lips.

He pulls away, grinding into you. The heat of your body is making him go wild. “Can I—”

You know what he wants. And you want it too. “Please,” you say.

He nods, moving to angle himself against you. You glance down to watch him, heat flooding your face as he strokes himself before glancing up at you. You nod in return, giving him the confirmation he needs. Jamie grins.

He slides in you slowly. The stretch is mild but grows as he hovers over you once more. It’s easy to adjust, having been warmed up moments before. But for Jamie, it’s not as easy.

He bottoms out almost immediately, tensing over you. His head bows, chin falling to his chest. “Fuck,” he curses. It’s quiet but straight-up sinful. “God, fucking— you’re so—” You grip onto his bicep as he steadies himself. “I’m sorry. It’s just— i-it’s been a minute. And you’re f-fucking tight. Jesus.”

You don’t mind. He feels good like this, despite the fact he’s not moving. Your hand travels from his arm to his hair, tucking a piece of it behind his ear before settling on his jaw. “It’s alright,” you tell him. “We’ve got time.”

Jamie’s eyes snap open at that, but he’s not looking at you like you thought he would. You were expecting a cheeky sort of smile, a smirk, something in that realm. But he’s not. He’s looking at you like…

It’s something you can’t define. Something you’ve never seen before. It churns your stomach yet makes your heart race. Neither of you says a word.

He just dips down to kiss you again and slowly begins to move inside you. Your lips part in a gasp, and he slides his tongue in your mouth. Your back arches into him.

Before you know it, he's breaking from you and is breathing heavy against your neck. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re just— fuck. You…” He trails off, mouth hovering over your collarbone. “You drive me f-fucking mad. God, everything about you. Y-you don’t even know, do you?”

The pace picks up. He’s thrusting into you harder now and your nails dig into his back. You hear him hiss at the contact, but neither of you seem to care. “Fuck.” It’s all you can say. “Fuck, Jamie.”

He’s clearly not done talking. “How’d I-I fuck this up? Huh?” You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself. His mouth is on your chest now and the feeling runs through you like fire. “Fucking idiot. Didn’t know what I had. Can’t believe I let you go.”

You clench around him and it throws him off kilter. You watch his jaw clench, hand beside you gripping the pillow you’re on. “You w-were an idiot.” Your agreement is much less effective when it’s closed out by a high-pitched moan.

“I know. Fuck, I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. Deserved better.” He continues to slam into you. “I wanna gi—” A strangled sound erupts from his lips. “Give you better. You’re so—” When he shakes his head, he looks wrecked. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Something about that sends a shock to your system. It makes you cry out and you can feel it. Your legs tremble around him. You’re close again. You’re really fucking close.

He kisses you once more, deeper than before. It’s more frantic. Everything about him is more erratic. You can tell he’s getting there too. “Couldn’t stop,” he manages to get out, hot against your lips. “Couldn’t s-stop thinking about you. I missed you.”

You clench around him again, the admission inching you closer. “Shit,” you say. “Fuck, Jamie, keep going.”

And keep going he does. His hand moves down your stomach, fingers finding your clit. He rubs circles into it and that sends you into a fucking tailspin. He swallows the sound you make.

“Missed you,” he says again, but it’s more helpless. Jamie fucking whimpers. “God, I f-fucking missed you, angel. Missed you so fucking much, I—”

You don’t hear the rest of what he says because you come the second he makes that sound. It’s white-hot. Blinding. Your legs twitch around him and you claw at him as he continues to rub your clit. You’re loud, but you don’t give a shit. It seems to spur him on.

He’s not far behind you. He spills into you with a groan, stomach flexing as he heaves over you, twitching inside of you. You’re still recovering from your own high as you open your eyes to watch him. You catch his expression for a moment before he’s collapsing into you.

You release a soft ‘oof’ at the sudden weight of him. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and neither do you. You just breathe together. But after a moment you allow yourself to put a hand in his hair.

“You’re fucking heavy,” you tell him, but there’s not much bite in it.

You feel him chuckle. “Give me second,” he says. “Not as fuckin’ agile as I used to be. Took a lot out of me, alright?”

You roll your eyes but continue to run your fingers through his hair. “You’re twenty-six and like, the face of the AFC,” you tell him. “Richmond might have to shorten your contract if you’re dying after that.”

He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Take that up with me Chairwoman then.”

You can’t help but laugh as you push him off of you, wincing as you feel him slip out. He lands with the same noise you did. “If she heard you complaining like that, she’d be on my side.”

Jamie grins at you, joining in on your laughter. He shifts toward you, grabbing your hand to play with your fingers. “You’re probably right. Shouldn’t be complainin’,” he says. He lifts your hand to his lips. “Not when you’re here.”

They’re sweet words. The casualty of them makes your heart swell. But that anxiety about him returns. One time thing, you tell yourself. Apology. One time. That’s all.

You pull your hand back softly and he glances over at you. There’s a hint of worry in his eyes, like that one movement set off alarm bells in his head. You give him an uneasy smile.

Before you can move to get up or say anything or do something, he’s talking. And you have to refrain from wincing.

“I know…” He looks away from you. Shy. “I know you said one time,” he says, as if he can read your fucking mind. “And that’s… That’s okay. I get that, yeah? But I—” Jamie wipes a hand down his face, staring at the ceiling. “I meant what I said. I missed ya. Really.”

You missed him too. But your walls have been rising back up since he started talking again. “I don’t know what you want me to do with that,” you tell him, only partially lying.

You feel like an asshole when he winces. Maybe you were being an asshole. Maybe it was finally your turn to do so.

“Just…” He finally looks at you. “If you ever… don’t want this to be just a one-time thing.” He waves it off in an attempt to look casual. You know he’s anything but. “You’ve got my number. Or whatever.”

The timidness in his voice makes your resolve soften. Even if you don’t see him again, you suppose you can let him down easy. He’s been kind enough tonight to deserve that. You nod at him as you sit up. “Okay,” you say. “I’ll let you know.”

It’s only slightly awkward as you get out of his bed and search for your clothes. He asks if he can call you an Uber home and you reject it, letting him know that you’ve got one on the way.

You can feel his eyes on you as you dress, ignoring the way they burn into you. You can tell he’s searching for something to say, or something to talk to you about but doesn’t know what.

You’re half-dressed before he can shoot himself in the foot and say something stupid. “Hey,” he finally says. You glance over your shoulder at him after you slip your sweatshirt on. “I’m really glad you texted me.”

The nice streak you’re riding on continues and you offer a small but genuine smile in return. “Me too,” you admit, ignoring the way that his own soft smile pulls at your heartstrings.

Before you leave his room, you offer one more admission. You stop in the doorframe he hit you against, lips curling further upward. “It was really good to see you, Jamie.”

He props himself up on his elbow, smile growing. “Good,” he says, nodding. Then, like a prick, he winks at you. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

You physically cannot stop yourself from rolling your eyes and you hear him laugh to himself as you walkdown his hall. “Goodbye, asshole.”

He shouts a tired-sounding ‘bye!’ when you slip your shoes on, shaking your head as you look around his apartment once more. The candle on his counter is still burning, smelling of amber moss and palo santo.

You blow it out before you leave, knowing he’ll forget.

And as you do so, you feel yourself regress. Or grow. You’re not quite sure which one.

But it makes you curse under your breath and leave his flat immediately.

There is one more universal truth you forgot to mention.

And that’s that the second you think you’re over Jamie Tartt, he comes back into your life and flips everything on its head. And it’s the only truth that’s been confirmed to you all week.

Because the second you arrive home and see that you have a text waiting for you, your heart picks up. You hate the way you get excited to see it.

I had a really good time tonight.

And the second he comes back into your life, you’re reminded that you’re not over him. Not even in the slightest. And it’s fucking debilitating.

me too.

And you know your friends are going to kill you the second you follow up with.

i’m free friday if you want to grab a drink.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfiction #bad ideas #the one who's not a loser but THEE loser #discowrites

427 notes · View notes

seriesxwriting · 6 months

Note

Could you write a fic where everyone wants klaus like cami, Hayley, caroline but klaus only wants y/n like and when they get inside his house, cami finds a room filled with paintings of y/n (some even nude) and they realise they'll never have him.

Thank you so much for this request I LOVED the idea and really enjoyed writing it<33.

I want you.

Pairing- klaus x y/n

Series- the vampire diaries/ the originals

Warnings- kissing, swearing, drinking?

Summary- request <3

“Amazing party klaus” Marcel smiled with his hand around Rebekah’s waist. He looked at her and squeezed throwing a smile her way. Her hand reached up to his chest and she returned the smile back at him. Finally happy klaus and him were getting along.

“Must you two flirt around me” he raised an eyebrow drinking from his delicate champagne glass. Rebekah turned around looking around at the crowed. “I don’t see y/n yet, is that why your salty?” She smirked at her brother.

“Salty? Me? Never, she’s simply outside with some of the other girls” he shrugged knowing exactly where she was. “We must have missed her” Marcel told her simply. “Indeed you did and so did I, we haven’t had the chance to speak yet” “why don’t you go and get her, the music will start soon I presume, you’ll want her near so you can ask her to dance” Rebekah tapped her brother on the chest.

He smiled at how well she knew him and she returned the knowing look. Klaus reached his head down to his sister’s cheek and kissed it softly. “Thank you sister”.

——

I was sitting on the benches outside with Hailey, Cami and Caroline sipping our drinks and talking about nothing in particular. The outside seating was quite clever actually as the hall was so crowded with random people and it heated up quite quickly. “I just think red is too bright for a car” Caroline shrugged sipping her drink sitting back on the bench. “My first car was red” I shrugged.

“What type of car was it” “Toyota, it did me a good service” I laughed remembering back to it. “I’m sure it did” hailey giggled catching onto what I was saying. It took a moment but the other two eventually realised and started bursting out laughing. “Was it your first time?” Cami questioned intrigued to know more. “If my first time was in a car I wouldn’t remove it from my memory” I shook my head.

“The cars way too small, my head was hitting the door the whole time” I whispered mid laugh. “Bet it steamed up loads too, must get stuffy” cami raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never done it in a car?” Caroline looked at cami shocked. Even hailey found it to be surprising. “No- and I wouldn’t want to” she laughed. “Who doesn’t want to do what?” Klaus voiced making us all jump out of our skin. He was walking over to us and stood next to where I was sitting. “You startled me klaus!” Cami winned.

“Girl talk klaus, we couldn’t reveal our secrets to you” Caroline put a finger to her lips raising her eyes flirtatiously up him. “You look great- the suit is fitting” cami told klaus bringing his attention to her. “It was on the house” “of course it was, that’s such a klaus thing” hailey spoke.

I watched as the girls tried getting his attention saying literally anything to make him look at them. I sat there in silence watching the show. The way they giggled when he addressed them. Made me feel sick.

His hand fell on my shoulder.

“The real reason I came over was to ask you to dance” he told me staring into my eyes with that famous klaus smile on his mouth. “You- want to dance with me?” I stuttered in shock he’d picked me out of all the girls here. Me and klaus had a complicated relationship. We’d slept together a few times and we’d stop and talk to each other if we bumped into one another but it was a casual thing. I didn’t think he’d choose to dance with me.

“Of course you can have me for a dance, I’m just going to find the restroom and then I’ll look for you” I nodded at him with a little smile on my face. “I’ll be waiting” he took my hand and planted a kiss softly before vamping off back into the party.

“He’s so fucking gorgeous” hailey threw her head back groaning. “Literally heaven sent- god took his time with that man” Caroline laughed. “I’m definitely going to cut in for a dance after” Haliey looked over at me.

She didn’t say it maliciously. It wasn’t condescending, she was just being genuine and letting me know her plans. “Mmm not if I get there first” cami wiggled her eyebrows. “The things I’d do to him if he’d let me”. The girls giggled to each other, making me wonder which one of them would get him. They were all attractive girls each having their own personality and opinions, he’d be a fool to not pick one of them.

“I’m off to the bathroom ladies” I smiled standing up. “Come on girl we aren’t going to let you go in your own” Caroline told me bouncing up from her seat. I tipped the last of drink down my throat before saying. “Great because I have no clue where it is and this house is massive” I laughed as we made our way inside. Us four climbed the stairs taking a left as a gut feeling. “It must be around here somewhere” cami shrugged looking at the mass of doors.

“Try this one” hailey opened one of the doors, but it was just a libary. Full of old books from the ceiling to the floor. “Boring” she slammed the door closed making us laugh. “What about this one” Caroline pulled open the door opposite to it. “Woah- it’s not the bathroom but…” she blinked looking inside. “What is it?” Hailey sped to the door looking inside. Her face became mesmerised and slowly she started walking in. The two girls followed, I felt a bit odd snooping around his house.

It felt wrong. But when I saw what was in the room it felt like privacy didn’t really matter to klaus as much as i thought it did. The room was full of art work, paintings on easels, on the walls, everywhere. They were all of the same thing. Me.

The girls looked at me and I gazed around the room, my eyes were wide in awe. There was portraits, some where I was standing in felids or other dimensions. They were so creative. The ones that caught my attention the most were the nude ones.

I remembered the set I had on in one of the paintings, he’d put me in a position lying me on the bed with a rose in my mouth. They were so creative so extraordinary. He’d only seen my body a few times yet he got it so spot on. The detail and time that had been put into it was incredible.

“Fuck” hailey whispered under her breath as reality sank in. Cami bit her lip looking around the room. Her eyes were sad almost. “Did you pose for him? Did you know he did these?” Caroline asked me quietly.

I shook my head still in shock. “I had no idea about any of these” “they are all of you- every single one of them- there must be over a hundred” cami whispered not even looking at me. “What does this mean?” Hailey turned to me with a raised eyebrow. “I’m going to go find out” I swallowed and before waiting for anyone to say something

I was out of the room and running down the stairs. My eyes scanned the room for him and eventually spotted him talking to a large group of vampires.

I ran towards him swerving past people left, right and centre. Klaus noticed me straight away and stopped his conversation. “Why are you running? What happened?” He quizzed with a worried gleam in his eyes. His hand fell to my arm. “Klaus- why’s there a room full of paintings of me?” I pannted under my breath. I asked him straight out not caring for him to judge me. He’d be a hypocrite to cuss me for breaking boundaries or privacy.

He just smiled before moving his hand to my face. “Because I want you y/n” he breathed out staring into my eyes. My heart skipped a beat. It punched me in my chest. My stomach flipped as those words filled my ears. “Me?” I blinked as my chest rose. “You have three beautiful girls pining for you and…” “and I want you” he cut me off shaking his head slightly. “All I want is you y/n”. In that moment I lept towards him, pushing my face onto his.

Our lips met in sync and the hand that was on my arm moved to my hip. Klaus pulled me closer to his body. Softly but passionately kissing me back. “Klaus” I whispered pulling only an inch away and leaning my forehead on his. “I want you”. “You’ve got me” he told me kissing my forehead before placing his back against mine.

His eyes wondered from me to the stair case where hailey, Caroline and cami stood watching us. I turned to look at them. They tried to hide the fact they weren’t happy about us being together but they didn’t do it incredibly well.

In that moment the music switched on. Klaus caught my eye again as people started getting ready for it. “May I take you for a dance m’lady” he smirked putting his arm out. “Of course you can handsome” I smiled linking arms with him. And with that we made our way to the face floor smitten with each other.

Klaus masterlist

The vampire diaries masterlist

All series masterlist

Masterlist of masterlists

262 notes · View notes

onceuponastory · 4 months

Text

first footing - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: Bucky thought he was going to spend New Year's alone, just how he likes it... until Y/N showed up. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: A few mentions of alcohol and being drunk. There's also some light mentions of Bucky's past as TWS. But as always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: Happy New Year my lovelies! In Scotland (where I'm from if you didn't already know) we have a tradition called first footing, where the first person to enter your house in the New Year brings luck with them (and usually alcohol, hahaha). I realised I wanted to write something with Bucky and this tradition (because lord knows he needs the luck) so here we are! Consider this fic me first footing you all ❤️

Also, incase you're wondering, a dram is a small measure of whisky. Not beta'd (I wrote this quickly bc the idea hit me like an hour ago), so any mistakes are my own.

“Happy New Year!” The TV host announces, cheering with the crowd behind her, and Bucky rolls his eyes, switching it off. He hates this time of year. He knows that the old him, the Sergeant, would be out there wooing girls, with a promise to kiss each of them as soon as the clock struck twelve. He misses those days. Back when the worst thing he had to worry about was looking good for his dates, and not… everything that’s happened to him in the last seventy years. And although New Year’s exemplifies change and bettering yourself, Bucky still hates it. Sure, everyone can make a change. He’s living proof of that.

But New Year’s is just so… loud now, and there’s so much pressure to better yourself, to change something about yourself. It symbolises everything he hates. God, he really is an old man.

Or maybe he hates it because he’s spending it alone, like usual. Or that despite the amount of personal growth he’s done over the year, each new year always seems to be a horrible reminder of everything he once was, and everything he’s lost.

Now that’s not to say Bucky hasn’t been invited to things tonight. He’d just… rather do everything but. All he wants is to go to bed and pretend tonight never happened, like the old man he is.

Suddenly, a knock on the door cuts through the air, causing Bucky to frown. He’s not expecting someone tonight. He can tell who it’ll probably be though - Steve or Sam, telling him to stop being boring and to get over to Tony’s party with the others. The knock sounds again, the person clearly impatient. “Alright, alright!” Bucky groans, making his way to the door and opening it. “Steve, I told you I’m not- Y/N?”

“Took you long enough.” She teases. Bucky’s mouth drops open, and his mind goes blank. He’s speechless. All he can do is look at her. The snow caught in her hair seems to sparkle in the light, and the way she looks at him, her trademark bright smile on her face, makes his heartbeat increase and his stomach flutter.

God, she’s so beautiful.

“Happy New Year, Buck.” She smiles, holding up a bottle of whisky.

“What…what are you doing here?” Bucky gasps in confusion, yet he still can’t stop a relieved smile from gracing his lips. He doesn’t have to spend his New Year alone with his thoughts. This time, he gets to spend it with his favourite person. But another thought, one that makes his heart skip a beat, hits him. Y/N chose him. Out of all the options she had, including a fancy Stark party with the others, who are most definitely more fun than he is… she still chose to spend time with him. And that makes Bucky Barnes feel like the most important person in the world.

“Well, I was going to first foot you.…” She chuckles. “But I can’t do that if you don’t let me in.” Still frowning, Bucky steps aside and helps Y/N take her coat off.

“You’re going to what?” Y/N laughs, another burst of laughter that Bucky swears is improving his mood by the second.

“First footing. It’s a tradition where the first person to enter your house after the clock strikes twelve brings good luck with them.” She grins. “So…here I am.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to be here. I know spending tonight with an old man like me isn’t very fun. Go party.”

“No way!” Y/N shakes her head, heading to his kitchen. “There’s no place I’d rather be than here, with my favourite person.” She calls. Bucky’s heart almost goes into overdrive.

“Thank you.” He smiles, watching her go. “It means a lot.” More than she’ll ever know.

~ * ~

“Here we go.” Y/N grins, passing Bucky his dram of whisky. “Cheers Bucky.”

“Cheers, doll.” He chuckles, clinking his glass against hers. Together, they down their drink. Despite the minimal amount of alcohol, and the fact the serum means he can’t get drunk, Bucky still feels the familiar warm feeling pooling in his gut, and the heat spreading across his cheeks. And especially how all he wants to do is smile.

But that could just be the beautiful woman sitting opposite him, the candlelight casting a soft glow over her features. The one who chose him over everyone else. The one he’s so deeply and irrevocably in love with. He swears he could just kiss her right there and then. He just can’t bring himself to do it, or even tell her how he feels. Despite how much he loves Y/N, Bucky swears that the pain of losing her and her friendship would be enough to finish him off right there and then. So, he stays quiet and lets the pain of not telling her, and the thought she could be with someone else eat him up inside.

“Any other traditions for me tonight?” Bucky raises a brow.

“Other than finishing this whiskey? Nope.” Y/N chuckles as Bucky pours them both some more.

“Thanks again for tonight, Y/N.” Bucky smiles. “I mean, I wasn’t going to spend it alone. I wanted to go to the party, but-” He lies, trying desperately not to sound so lonely and pathetic. But a gentle, reassuring touch on his forearm stops him. Despite the gentleness of her touch, Bucky’s skin burns under it.

“It’s alright.” Y/N smiles. “I know.” What did he ever do to deserve someone like Y/N in his life? Perhaps he was a saint in a previous life. But even that wouldn’t be enough, make him anywhere close to worthy of having Y/N as a best friend. She looks at him intently, staring into his eyes. Bucky feels the heat on his cheeks deepening. “You know….” She chuckles.

“Mhm?”

“I know you think resolutions suck, but I have one this year. And there’s no better time than half twelve in the morning on January 1st to do it, huh?”

“I don’t think they suck, they’re just not my thing.” Bucky corrects her, but he can’t stop his brow from quirking up. “What’s your resolution?” Y/N leans in, so close Bucky can feel her breath against his skin. It’s enough to drive him crazy.

“To not let anything pass me by, to take each opportunity as it comes.” She grins.

“That’s a good resolution.” Bucky nods, regretting his words almost immediately. Why the hell would he say that, of all things?

“So. Here it goes.” Y/N takes a breath. “This may be the whisky talking, but… I refuse to go another year without telling you this. I am in love with you, Bucky Barnes.” Bucky almost keels over. He almost asks her to repeat what she just said, or even to pinch him. But then she continues. “I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way… well, it would hurt a lot, but I just have to tell you because I couldn’t bear another day without you knowing.”

Bucky chuckles, cupping her chin. “I’ve been wanting to tell you that for so long.” He smiles, and Y/N’s grin grows just as wide. “You know….” He whispers. “There’s another New Year’s tradition I can think of.” Leaning in, he softly presses his lips to hers.

Something tells him this year is going to be pretty damn incredible.

~ * ~

Please follow @onceuponastory-library and turn on notifications to be notified when I next post!

303 notes · View notes

adorethedistance · 6 months

Text

Baby Fever (2) - Trevor Zegras x Reader

Hockey Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

Words: 2417

Requested: Can you please do a trevor blurb where him and y/n go to a pumpkin patch with their nephew and Trevor's playing with their nephew and y/n gets so much baby fever please

A/n: Back already I know ! Here's part 2 to Baby Fever lol hope y'all enjoyed Part 1. I've decided this is going to be a 3 part fic bc I wanted to write a smut as well but this part was already getting too long for my liking. Therefore, part 3 is gonna be an almost plotless smut lol. Enjoy my loves !!

“Can I have aux?” Trevor asks, unplugging my phone before I can say anything.

“Please, help yourself,” I say pointedly, making fun of his impatience. He merely scrunches his nose and sticks his tongue out at me though there’s no real maliciousness behind it. “Let’s stick to child appropriate content only. I don’t need the little guy to go home with some new words. Dani will have my head.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Trevor salutes me but doesn’t look up from his phone. After a moment he presses a button and “Mr. Perfectly Fine (Taylor’s Version)” begins to play. I roll my eyes. This is the fourth time Trevor has made us listen through this album this week.

“At this point, I think you’re doing this to spite me.”

“Come on, babe!” He turns over his shoulder to look at Greyson, “You like Taylor, right Grey?”

Stretching up to look in the rearview, I see Greyson frown and shrug his shoulders indifferently. The gesture makes me laugh and I quickly glance at Trevor with a smug smile.

“You guys are just haters,” Trevor pouts, making no effort to change the music.

Once we arrive at the pumpkin patch, I put the car into park and as soon as I do, Trevor unbuckles to sit up and grab my chin with his hand and kiss me swiftly. The action is surprising at first, but I allow myself to melt into the kiss and pull away with a smile.

“Let’s go!” Greyson jeers from the back seat. Trevor and I laugh before getting out of the car in synchronized pacing. I open the rear driver’s side door to reach in and unbuckle Greyson. He slides out of the seat on his own before leaping out of the car and I step back surprised. When I step backwards I bump into Trevor who had seemingly materialized out of thin air. He catches my hips in his hands before running his thumb over the waistband of my jeans. I shoot him a look that’s partially alluring, partially mocking,

“One kiss is all it took?” He shrugs and spins me around to kiss me again. Blinking away his smugness, he holds out his open hand for me to take and together we enter the patch. Greyson, who was pushing ahead until he came to the entrance, suddenly became shy about the crowd of people. He turns around to look at me and Trevor and I extend him my free hand which he bashfully accepts.

We enter the patch, taking in the expansive set up. The carnival lights amidst the sunset are simply gorgeous, but Greyson doesn’t care to take in the scenery. He holds my hand tightly, pulling full steam ahead toward a stand that’s pouring warm cider. He watches eagerly before looking up at me and Trevor.

“You wanna try some?” I ask to which he agrees. Grabbing a drink from the booth, I make sure it’s not too hot before handing him the cup. Greyson takes one sip, then cringes and hands it back to Trevor.

“No, thank you!” Trevor and I laugh before he pops off the lid and takes a sip for himself.

“Buddy, you’re insane. That’s amazing,” he then hands me the cup for a sip, and I hum in delight. Trevor gives me a smug look and I shove his shoulder back.

“Mind out of the gutter, Zegras.” Luckily the cider cup is small, so he and I can down it quickly between the two of us. Greyson then gently tugs on the fabric of Trevor’s hoodie to grab his attention. He bends down to talk to Greyson,

“What’s up?”

“Can we go over there?” Greyson asks, pointing to the petting zoo area.

“Sure thing, bud. Is it okay if we hold hands so I don’t get lost in the crowd?” Suddenly inflated by a sense of protection, Greyson nods ‘yes’ and takes Trevor’s right hand to head toward the petting zoo. Standing back up, he takes my hand in his left and leans down to say,

“We should have a baby. Or two.” After the words leave his mouth, I turn to look at him like he’s crazy, only managing to expel a laugh of disbelief. “We’d be great parents!” As I scoff a laugh, Trevor looks genuinely confused as to why I’m amused by his bright idea.

“Trevor, you are twenty-two years old. We are not having a baby any time soon.”

“Good for you!” I hear a stranger's voice call. I turn to see we passed a group of younger gen z kids that were standing by me and my statement. The moment makes me laugh and I look at Trevor.

“We have our hands full at the moment anyway.”

A pen that stands around four feet tall encases a few sheep who are grazing, disinterested in being surrounded by smaller children. Greyson stares at the sheep, fascinated by their dense wool coats. Trevor lets go of my hand to squat down to Greyson’s level.

“Look, bud. The sign says their names are Molly, Blue, and Hudson.”

“Which one is which?” Greyson asks simply, afraid to look away from the sheep in the event that he’d miss a single moment. Trevor begins pointing at the different sheep as I pull out my phone to take pictures for Dani and Troy.

“Well, let’s look at the pictures. That one is wearing a blue ribbon so that’s blue. Hudson’s picture has an orange tag, and that one right there has an orange tag.”

“So that’s Hudson!” Greyson finishes cheerfully.

“You got it! Way to go, buddy!” Trevor holds up his hand and Greyson excitedly high fives him. When he stands up, he takes Greyson’s hand and leads him to the horse enclosure nearby. There’s a bucket of various foods on the side of the enclosure so visitors can feed the horses. Trevor grabs a carrot and demonstrates to Greyson how to feed the horses. Since the horses are much taller than the grazing sheep, Trevor lifts Greyson with ease to hold him right in front of the smallest horse in the enclosure. Greyson carefully follows Trevor’s instructions, and feeds a carrot to the content animal. As he holds Greyson up, Trevor looks at me and smiles, allowing me to snap the cutest photo ever. In finishing the carrot, the horse had licked Greyson’s hand which made him giggle at the sensation.

“Let’s wash your hands before we do anything else, yeah?” Trevor walks with Greyson over to the portable sink. It’s the kind of faucet that requires you to pump a foot pedal to run the water. After it takes him a second to figure it out, Trevor holds Greyson up to the sink and operates the pedal. As Greyson is rubbing his hands together with soap, Trevor runs the water, only for it to stop once Greyson actually places his hands beneath it.

“What the?” The little boy exclaims as the water disappears.

“That’s so weird, why is it doing that?” Trevor says, pretending to be confused, “Try again.”

Greyson does and Trevor repeats the bit once more, and I can’t help but laugh. Looking up, Trevor smiles victoriously at having made me laugh and I swoon a little bit. Greyson catches on and is unable to keep from laughing as Trevor keeps repeating the action.

Once he finally washes up, Greyson leads us to the largest pumpkins in the patch. They’re nearly the same size as him, which translates to needing to climb on them in Greyson’s mind. He sits on the top of the pumpkin happily, and I pull out my phone to snap more pictures for Dani. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Trevor pull out his phone and begin taking pictures of me taking pictures of Greyson.

“Wow, you guys are such a beautiful family,” I hear from behind me. Turning around, an older lady watches the scene unfold with an adoring smile.

“Oh, we’re-”

“Thank you!” Trevor cuts me off. He shoots me a look that says ‘just roll with it’ and I oblige.

“How old are you, young man?” She asks Greyson, who cowers nervously.

“Three and a half,” he says shyly and she smiles comfortingly.

“Wow, you’re so grown up! And how long have you been together, mom and dad?”

“Together for four years, married for three,” Trevor replies seamlessly, as if he’s thought about this before.

“Oh, you’re married! How wonderful. I didn’t see any rings, but I was curious.”

“Yeah, we almost lost them at last year’s pumpkin patch visit, so they’re in the car,” I say with the same nonchalant tone as Trevor. He looks at me, almost impressed with the backstory I’d conjured out of nowhere. I smile and peck his cheek as if we were telling the truth.

“My word, that sounds awful! I’m glad you found them though.”

“Yeah, us too,” Trevor affectionately places his hand on my lower back with a smug smile.

“If you want, I could take some pictures of you all, as a family?”

“Sure!” Trevor says before leading me to sit near the pumpkin Greyson is sitting on. We pose together like a JCPenney portrait session and I’m trying so hard not to laugh. The idea of pretending to be a family is an interesting backstory for these photos.

“Here you are, dearie. You take care now.” The old lady hands me my phone and smiles brightly before turning to her own grandchildren. Once the lady wanders out of earshot I turn to Trevor and inquire, “Together for four years, married for three?”

“A guy can dream, no?”

“Keyword dream.”

“Y/n?” Greyson speaks from atop the large pumpkin.

“Yes, Greyson?” I ask politely.

“Can we get a pumpkin?” I turn to Trevor and raise one brow quizzically.

“What kinda budget are we working with here?” He gives me a nod that suggests somewhere in the mid range. I stand up fully and offer my hand to Greyson, “Sure, but let’s go look at some of the smaller ones okay? I don’t think your parents would be cool with a pumpkin that weighs more than you do.”

“Will you hold me?” Greyson asks, but before I can respond, Trevor picks him up by the legs, dangling him upside down with incredible ease. Greyson screeches with laughter, unable to control the series of giggles.

“Put me down!”

“But I’m holding you! This is what you wanted!”

“No! I want Y/n to hold me!” Trevor flips Greyson around before setting him back down on the ground. Immediately on his feet, Greyson runs over to me and hugs my legs for safety. I pick him up to hold him on my left hip and hug him after he lays his head on my chest.

“You’re safe! He can’t get you now.” Trevor comes up behind me to hug me and Greyson before leaning down to kiss me briefly. After he kisses me, Trevor pulls away slowly until Greyson presses his hand against Trevor’s chest, pushing him away from me. I can’t stop the hearty laugh that escapes me at the gesture and Trevor holds up his hands in appalment.

“What? I can’t kiss my girlfriend?!”

“No!” Greyson fiercely yells back.

“Unbelievable.”

“You should’ve bought me that fancy dinner before it was too late,” I shrug playfully and Trevor scrunches his nose at me in jest. Together, we walk over to a stack of hay bales that display a plethora of mini pumpkins. Looking at the different options, I would pick up a pumpkin to hand to Greyson for his inspection. He rejected some, and pondered others, until we came across one specific pumpkin.

“Look at this one, Grey. It’s white like that one you liked but without the orange stripes.”

“Yeah! That one!”

“And is that because you’re a white supremacist?”

“Uh huh!” My joke is lost on Greyson but Trevor laughs so hard he has to walk away for a moment. When he returns, he’s still laughing slightly, but it’s settled into a sweet smile.

“You’d be a great mom, Y/n.”

“...Shut up.”

“What?! I’m serious.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Y/n-” Greyson begins, but whatever he was about to say is stifled by a lengthy yawn and I check my phone to see the time is 7:32.

“We gotta get you home little buddy.”

“I don’t want to!” He tries to argue as his vision is blocked by drooping eyelids.

“We’ll hang out again soon, bud. I promise.”

“Okay,” He says through another yawn, nearly dropping the pumpkin he had worked so hard to select.

“Trev, can you take him so I can pay?” Trevor then grabs the pumpkin from Greysons tired hand. Holding the pumpkin in his left hand, he takes Greyson to hold him on his right hip. As I go to take the pumpkin from Trevor, he begins walking toward the exit without a word. I curiously follow him and watch as he steps up to the cashier, paying for the pumpkin and supporting Greyson with ease. Observing the moment brings a small smile to my face, and I feel my cheeks flush slightly at the idea of maybe having a family with him down the road.

Only after he pays does Trevor finally relinquish possession of the pumpkin. I hold his free hand in my own as we walk to the parking lot. Trevor brushes the pad of his thumb on the back of my hand and I squeeze his hand gently.

“This was fun.”

“Next time we have Baby Terry I want to plan the date.”

“Gladly.”

“I’m not a baby,” Greyson tries to argue which makes Trevor and I laugh. His eyes are fully closed but he’s still slightly alert. As we reach the car, I use the remote key to unlock the doors, allowing Trevor to place Greyson in his car seat. Once he’s seated and buckled in, Trevor closes the car door. I move to open the driver’s door, but Trevor catches my wrist in his hand and pulls me close. His toned body is pressed flush against mine, dropping his hands to interlace his fingers behind my back. Trevor dips his head down to lovingly kiss me and I kiss back until it dissolves into a smile.

“Still opposed to having a baby?”

“Admittedly, a little less than before, but still opposed.”

“Hmm…” Trevor exaggeratedly ponders my response before lifting one brow, “What about babymaking?”

***

358 notes · View notes

starcrossedslytherin · 11 months

Text

Point to the Sky

Sebastian Sallow x reader

WC: 3.4K

A/N: First fic here! Bit nervous to post this, but I’m doing so anyway! I wanted to write for hogwarts legacy and Harry Potter characters (specifically the marauders), so I started a new blog to do so! I really appreciate feedback!

Summary: After Sebastian calls you ignorant despite all you do to help him, you need some time to yourself to blow off steam. Unfortunately, the presence of Ashwinders and your lack of Wiggenweld potions leads to other plans.

---

How did you get here?

How did you get here, bleeding out in the middle of a bandit camp.

You never think things through, you should have thought this through.

It was Sebastian’s fault, it truly was. No matter the fact it was your decision to head out to the highlands today, to stay away from the Castle, or Hogsmeade, or Feldcroft, or anywhere Sebastian would go. It was his fault you needed to get away.

You would do anything for him. You do everything for him. And he does nothing but blame you, call you ignorant, disregard all you’ve done to help Anne, all the pressure and stress this year, your first year at Hogswarts, has put onto you.

Doesn’t he understand?

Doesn’t anybody understand?

Now, none of that seemed to matter. You had decided after your fight with Sebastian you needed out, that anywhere he might be would be insufferable. Claire Beaumont had asked you to clear out two Goblin encampments, which lead you to clearing out more and more and soon you were exhausted, running on pure adrenaline and rage.

That’s when you were caught off guard by diffindo casted at you, ripping through your chest and down your dominant arm. You had let out a scream at the time, falling to your knees and clutching your fresh wounds, swearing blood all throughout your robes. You barely remember blocking the next curse sent your way, returning a stunning spelling and depluso, sending your enemy into a collision with a building nearby which crumpled on top of them.

You finally let yourself collapse, a sob escapes as you allow the day to take its toll on you. Sweat and blood were smeared across your face and you were terrified of letting go of your arm, too afraid to look down at the damage because you knew it was bad. You could feel by the wet spot continuously growing bigger through the torn fabric.

Wiggenweld potions!

They had healed you a million times with injuries almost as bad, surely they get the job done here. You had dropped your bag when the duel had first began and with a little groaning and a lot of pain, you manage to your feet and grab your bag.

Empty.

You let out a weak scream. You knew it would be. You had made more potions last night in the Room of Requirement but you didn’t think to grab them, saving them for a time you planned to go out, not a spontaneous anger trip because you were fighting with… with Sebastian.

The thought of him almost hurt as much as the physical pain you’ve been in. Just yesterday you thought maybe… maybe there could be more between the two of you and today you were cursing Ashwinders because of him.

And yet, you still wished he was here.

That he would be be next to you, fighting by your side, making sure you were alright with a wiggenweld potion because he knew you wouldn’t have any more because he cares about you.

But he wasn’t here.

No one was.

You were here alone.

Except for the Ashwinders aparating behind you.

“Reducto!”

You barely have time to duck and roll out of the way, shooting confringo at your enemy, only to see two of them side by side. You don’t have enough strength in you for a big duel, you barely have enough in you as you shoot basic spells their way and blocking the ones coming at you, including dodging the lightning strikes the executioner is casting. You don’t know how much longer you could last. You could barely hold up your arm without trembling in pain.

You finally have the upper hand as the lightning curse is cast and you pull both Ashwinders in front of you into it, but not before one duelist manages out a quick reducto sent your way.

The spell hits you the same time both Ashwinders are taken care of and you are sent backwards screaming in pain. Your entire side is throbbing and you can’t think. You can’t move. You can only sit there, watching the stain on your clothes grow bigger and bigger.

You need help.

You read something once in a book for class about shooting red sparks onto the air as a call for help. You mentioned it to Sebastian afterwards, he promised if you did it he would always find you.

You hope it was true.

The last curse knocked your wand out of your hand, sending it just out of your reach. Knowing what has to be done, you roll closer to your wand, scraping your fingers in the dirt in a pitiful attempt to reach before you slowly start gasping for breaths to hide your sobs.

Pain rips up your body, pulling a cry from your lips as you try to keep from curling in pain. Your trembling fingers brush against your wand, pulling another gasp of breath as you inch impossibly closer until you can hold your wand in your non-dominant hand. Your dominant hand is useless, you could barely move it, let alone grip your wand. You finally allow yourself to scream, a sound quickly turning into a sob as you bury your face into your arm and still for a few moments.

The pain is getting to you, you can feel it happening as your body grows far more tired than it has all day. Your vision is starting to blur as you roll onto your back, struggling to point it to the sky.

You quickly shoot 3 bright red sparks into the air and they fly high before disappearing far higher than you’ve ever flown. You know it was dangerous, you know anyone could have seen them, could know exactly where you were. Rookwood, Ranrok, any of their lot, but also Sebastian. Despite how you’ve been feeling towards the boy as of late, you could only hope Sebastian could see your signal and get to you first as your eyes drift close and your arm falls to the ground.

---

Ominis was sure he searched the whole castle for you and yet his wand had proved to him quite a few times that you weren’t anywhere here. He did, however, find Sebastian sitting on a bench in the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower.

“Sebastian.” He calls out his friend’s name before heading to take the open seat next to him. “Have you seen Y/N? I can’t locate her in the castle, I assumed she’d be with you somewhere.”

Sebastian can’t even look at Ominis as he twirls his wand around in his hand. “Haven’t seen her.”

Ominis is quiet, his brows pulling together at his friends depressing demeanor. “What happened? What did you do?”

Sebastian is taken back, finally looking at the blond boy. “Me? Why do you assume I was the cause of anything?” The silent but knowing look Ominis wore on his face causes Sebastian to sigh heavily. “I… I was with her this morning and I said…” he trails off thinking back on the conversation he called you ignorant and you curtly replied, implying his uncle was correct about Sebastian not knowing when to stop. “I said something I regret, that I don’t know how to take back.”

Ominis frowns, wondering what Sebastian could have said to you to cause a rift between the two of you. “You could start by apologizing.”

“Alright.” Sebastian nods, preparing himself for the idea. “I’ll apologize to her. The next time I see her.” Ominis was quiet once again but the small smirk on his lips has Sebastian’s shoulders sagging. “We’re going to find her now, aren’t we?”

Ominis can only put a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “She would find you if the roles were reversed.”

---

Ominis follows after Sebastian who is leading the way through Hogsmeade. Ominis can tell how upset the conversation with you has made him, but he knows how Sebastian has acted these last weeks with his twin’s sickness.

“She’s not here.” Sebastian groans, crossing his arms and tapping his foot, impatient to find you and be allowed back to his sulking. “She’s probably back at the castle somewhere and we missed her.”

Ominis frowns and shakes his head. “She could also be in danger. You know what our friend likes to do in her free time.”

Sebastian’s foot tapping stops. Ominis has a point, but they also know you well enough to know you wouldn’t fight without a supply of wiggenweld potions in your bag.

Unless you left after an argument without thinking of the possibility of needing wiggenweld. “How are we supposed to find her? She could be anywhere! She could be in the forest, or down by the coast, or-or…” Sebastian’s sentences are stopped as he looks out in the sky, ignoring the sun disappearing on the horizon. “Did you see that?” He asks Ominis, not sure his eyes weren’t just playing tricks on him in the setting sky.

“… no.”

“Oh. Right.” Sebastian shakes his head, looking towards his blind best friend and feeling a little dumb at his question. “In the sky, there were these red sparks coming up from the trees south of Hogwarts.”

“Sparks?” Ominis furrows his brows, trying to understand what Sebastian is saying.

Just point to the sky and I’ll find you.

Promise?

I promise.

“It’s Y/N, it has to be!” Sebastian is sure of it. He remembers joining you in the library one day, trying not to be obvious as he stares at you, but it didn’t matter as it seemed you had a sixth sense for knowing when he was looking at you. “Come on!”

---

Sebastian pushes trees away from his face, doing his absolute best not to send them flying into Ominis’ face who was following behind him, using his wand to help him as he holds the back of Sebastian’s robe. “Will you slow down?” Ominis says before running into his best friend’s back, barely stopping in time.

“I’m sorry.” Sebastian is quick to say, making sure his friend is fine before focusing on their mission. “She’s around here, I’m sure of it.”

It was Ominis who found you first, sensing your location with his wand as he leads Sebastian in the correct direction. Sebastian freezes when he sees you laying on the ground, your wand trailing off your fingers into the dirt below you. “Y/N?” Ominis says as he kneals down next to you, putting his arm on your arm and gently moving up to your neck. “She’s barely breathing.” He sighs in relief at finding your pulse, however weak it was.

Sebastian is in shock as he looked at you but he couldn’t look past the blood stains on your robes. “She’s bleeding, on her chest and arm, it looks bad.”

Ominis carefully checks what Sebastian pointed out before pulling away, knowing his hands were now stained with your blood. He speaks quickly. “We need to get her to Hogwarts, to the hospital wing.”

Sebastian nods despite Ominis being unable to see it. He glances around the three of you and his eyes land on an empty vial of what used to be Wiggenweld potion. You did run out. His eyes widen before he searches his robes. “I have- wait, I have…” He trails off for a brief moment, absolutely certain he had some somewhere until he pulls out the green vial, “This!”

Ominis furrows his brows until Sebastian hands it to him. Sebastian had kept himself away from you until this moment. He knew deep down it was his fault that you were in this position and there was no way he could deny it, so he stayed back, not wanting to upset you further should you have woken up. However, he couldn’t help himself after he passed Ominis the vial. His hand ghosted over your head before he brushes your hair out of your face. It stuck to your skin just a bit from your sweat, blood, and tears and Sebastian’s heart ached.

He never wanted to see you like this again.

“You carry a wiggenweld potion on you?” Ominis’ words pull him back to reality as he blinks away any chance of tears falling on his own face. “Since when?”

“Since she started venturing out.” He clears his throat. “Never know when she might need one.”

Ominis doesn’t say anything else. He can only imagine how Sebastian is feeling in this moment and he is worried for you as well. He gently cups your jaw and opens your mouth and does his best to make sure he has lined the potion up with your mouth perfectly before pouring the whole vial.

“There. She should be getting better until he can get her-” Ominis is cut off by the sounds of metal clanking and talking through the tree lines, coming from almost all directions towards them. “Someone’s coming.” He tells Sebastian and jumps to his feet, holding his wand in the air.

“I can hear them. They probably saw Y/N’s sparks.” Sebastian shakes his head, not believing the fact that he forgot that others could have found you as well.

“It sounds like a whole army.”

Sebastian looks down at you, wishing he could have known if the Wiggenweld potion was even doing anything for you. You hadn’t moved at all and your breathing was still short. “We have to get her out of here!”

“How?” Ominis points his wand in another direction, finding more and more goblins, ashwinders, and enemies everywhere. “There’s nowhere to go?”

“There has to be something-” Sebastian’s sentence is stopped short as his eyes land on your bag. You’ve shown him this bag before. You’ve pulled magnificent beasts out of this bag before and right now, that seems to be your only chance at an escape. “Ominis,” Sebastian places a hand on the boys’ shoulder before reaching for the bag, “you might not like this.” Ominis can’t get a question in before Sebastian opens the bag. The next thing the blind blond hears is hooves stomping against the ground, wings beating in the air, and Sebastian’s excited gasp.

Ominis lets out a gasp of his own as he figures out exactly what Sebastian has pulled out of your bag.“Is that-“

“A friend.” Sebastian assures him, placing his hand back on Ominis’ shoulder before confirming Ominis’ thoughts. “A Hippogriff, she once introduced me to after class one day. It was… extraordinary.” There was a smile on Sebastian’s face as he looks at the beast, remembering how excited you were to introduce the two of you. He follows the steps and tells Ominis what to do, just like you showed him that day to gain the Hippogriff’s trust for a ride.

Sebastian helps Ominis up first before heading to you. He hesitates, but knows he must act quickly. Careful of your potentially still wounded arm and torso, he picks you up with an arm under your knees and another around your back. With Ominis’ help, he gets both you and him onto the Hippogriff. He readjusts you, letting you collapse on him as he holds you close to him with an arm around your waist, your head tucks into his neck. He can feel your faint breath on his skin and he can’t help but smile. You are still alive.

He is about to take off before realizing Ominis would surely fall off. “Put your arms around us.”

Ominis is taken back. “Absolutely not.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Do you want to fall off?” Ominis groans before muttering a ‘no’. “That’s what I thought. Now, put your arms around us and help me keep the two of you from falling off.”

Ominis does as he was told, knowing Sebastian was right, and regardless if he was, he would do anything to ensure you would stay as you were currently, almost on Sebastian’s lap. His grip is loose until suddenly with no warning, the hippogriff takes off.

Ominis is hanging on for dear life now.

The three of you and the Hippogriff barely clear the trees before a spell is cast in your direction. It whizzes right by Sebastian and Ominis’ heads, narrowly hitting them as the hippogriff speeds up, leaving the armies to disappear behind.

---

“We are never doing that again.” Ominis complains as he straightens his robes, happy to finally be on solid ground.

Sebastian rolls his eyes and as he opens your bag up to return the Hippogriff, but keeps his hold on you with Ominis’ help. “It wasn’t that bad. We made it back in one piece!”

Ominis wants to make a snappy comment back about how you three almost didn’t make it back in piece and how Sebastian almost lost his hold on you, but before he can get the words out, they remind him of your condition. The two of them rush to get you to the hospital wing, narrowly taking out a few first years along the way, but they managed. The nurse was just fixing a bed as the two boys push open the doors, holding you as steady as they can in their arms.

The nurse gasps at the sudden appearance but acts fast, letting them place you on the nearest bed that was available. Sebastian lays you on the bed, but he doesn’t let go of your hand as he grips it tightly, studying your face. The nurse cleans you up a bit and helps you beyond what a Wiggenweld potion could manage. Sebastian was beyond relieved to be able to gaze upon your face without focusing on the blood and tears.

“It’s good you gave her the potion when you did,” the nurse breaks Sebastian and Ominis’ thoughts, “much longer out there and well, I hate to imagine what could’ve happened.” She shakes her head.

Sebastian blinks back tears. “But she hasn’t woken.”

“And she might not for a while. Physically, she’s fine, her wounds are healing nicely, but she’ll have a nasty scar.” The nurse pauses, adding a few ingredients to a potion for you to take later.

Sebastian and Ominis wait for her to continue, but they grow restless. Sebastian finally tears his eyes away. “So? Why would it be a while?”

The nurse frowns. “Mentally, she’s exhausted. I don’t suppose either of you know how much sleep she’s gotten?”

The two boys hesitate before shaking their heads. “She would always fall asleep in the most random of places. In class, in Hogsmeade, towns, simply on the floor even. I’ve tripped over her numerous times.” Ominis says and Sebastian nods, suddenly feeling guilty for not ensuring you’ve gotten sleep.

“Yes, well,” the nurse hums, “perhaps rest is what she needs best. She can stay here for the night, but you two better hurry off before curfew starts.”

Ominis nods and reaches over to you, putting a hand on your shoulder with a small squeeze before he leaves, knowing Sebastian might want a few minutes alone with you. Sebastian can’t bear the thought of leaving you even if he could just visit in the morning. “Is it alright if I stay? Just for a few hours?”

The nurse eyes him carefully before sighing. “Just for a few hours.” She says and Sebastian nods. He hopes maybe a just a few hours turns into the whole night, and as the nurse places a pillow and blanket next to him, he might just get his wish.

When the nurse leaves the room, Sebastian realizes you two were the only ones here. He can’t help himself as he holds your hand tighter, bringing it to his lips with a soft kiss. “I’m sorry.” He whispers, knowing you’re only here because of him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sebastian?” Your voice is quiet, but he hears it nonetheless.

He straightens up, pushing your hair out of your face and pressing his hand against your skin. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

You shift in the bed, turning to face him but you barely open your eyes. “You’re here.” You repeat his words with the ghost of a smile and Sebastian feels his tears slipping down his face slowly. “Stay?”

He presses his lips against the back of your hand again before smiling. “With you? Of course. I’ll always stay with you.”

•

I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know if I should write more for hogwarts legacy or harry potter characters?

#sebastian sallow x reader #Sebastian sallow imagine #Sebastian sallow #Sebastian sallow fanfiction #Sebastian sallow x fem!reader #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy imagine

675 notes · View notes

mistressreaper · 5 months

Text

Little Sister

A/n: took a couple of days break from the fic to write this I hope it’s good!

⚠️: sex, photos during, swearing, name calling

You lay in your bed watching tv when a certain blonde pops his head in the doorway, “Hey nerd.” You smiled at your brothers friend.

“Hey Kacchan.” You heard him grumble at the nickname. You flipped through the channels until you found a scary movie that looked semi interesting. You walked into the kitchen to grab a snack and a soda when you came across Bakugo and your brother at the kitchen table. “What’s for dinner Izuku?”

“Ramen, but I’ll have to go get some stuff from the store. Kacchan are you alright staying here for a minute?” Izuku looked at the blonde and he grunted a response.

“S’fine, with me.” Bakugo made his way to the couch and plopped down while Izuku grabbed his keys and left. You walked over to the couch and set a drink in front of Bakugo who was flipping through the channels of the tv.

“So how have you been Kachaan?” You sat down just a couple of feet from him and opened your soda waiting for an answer.

“Been okay. How about you?” His voice was rough, probably from all the shouting he does.

“Could be better, Keigo and I broke up.” You popped an Oreo in your mouth and watched whatever the show was that Bakugo decided on.

“So that sack of shit is out of the picture now? Good to know.” You knew Bakugo didn’t like your ex for the pure reason that he had a crush on you. Only if you had known before Keigo asked you out. You checked the time in your phone and smirked, the market was easily 30 minutes away from your apartment. So that gave you an hour to go through with your plan.

You stood up and kicked the coffee table, knocking Bakugo’s drink to the floor. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!!” You faked. You bent over in front of Bakugo, purposely facing away so your ass was in front of him, to pick up the glass and wipe up the spill with napkins.

“S’fine, you’re in the way though.” He angled his head around you to watch the tv. You walked away and huffed, so much for that. You’ll just have to up your game.

You turned up the heat on the thermostat, not by much but enough to make you start to warm up and flush your cheeks pink after a while. You sat back down and waited, you felt bad for Bakugo because of his quirk and already being naturally warm he might start breaking a sweat. It’ll all be worth it if my plan pans out. After about ten minutes you felt your face beginning to flush, “Damn it’s hot.” You went back to your room and changed out of the oversized shirt and sweats you were wearing to a pair of tight spandex and a tank top deciding to forego the bra. You smirked as you turned the thermostat down this time, this is the last trick you can try before Izuku gets home. You noticed Bakugo’s eyes cut to the side to look at you when you got back to the couch.

The way you sat put your barely clothed body on display for him. You sat sideways on the couch with your back against the armrest, one leg bent and resting on the back of the couch and the other outstretched and resting on the coffee table. Soon the apartment started cooling off, and you could feel your nipples harden under the thin fabric. You could feel his gaze, practically undressing you. You opened your mouth to say a smart ass remark when the front door opened and Izuku walks in.

———

“Thank you for helping with dinner Kachaan!” Izuku smiles. Bakugo grunts as he takes another bite of noodles.

You thanked him also while finishing up your bowl. You sat yourself across from Bakugo, putting on a show the whole time with your cleavage. You noticed him looking a couple times before averting his gaze. It doesn’t look like you’d be getting anywhere tonight but that’s okay, you could always try again. The three of you cleaned up after dinner; Izuku doing dishes, you wiping down the table, and Bakugo sweeping the floor. While the boys said they’re goodbyes you made your way back to your bed, “Goodnight Kachaan! Have a safe trip home!” You winked before closing your door.

———

A slight creak from the floorboards woke you up from you sleep, “Zuku?” You called out groggily. No answer. Then there was another creak. You slipped out of bed and walked to your bedroom door, opening it and finding Bakugo in the kitchen with a glass of water. “Kachaan?”

“Yeah?”

“Why’re you still here? Thought you went home?” You yawned and stretched your arms over your head. You opened your eyes and jumped back a bit, you hadn’t heard Bakugo walk to you. His carmine eyes gazed down at you, they had a darkness swirling behind them.

“Don’t act dumb. You’ve been pulling moves all day, giving me a show. Even when your brother got home.” A smirk appeared on Bakugo’s lips as he brought his face to be level with yours. “Does he know what a little slut you are? Showing off for his best friend?” A shiver ran through your body. Bakugo’s words went straight to your core, you could feel your panties grow wet by the second.

You shook your head. A low chuckle came from Bakugo, his left hand trailed up the back of your neck, into your hairline and grabbed a fist full before jerking your head back. He licked and nipped your ear lobe, “Well he’s gonna know after tonight Princess. I’m gonna fuck you until the only thing you remember is my name.”

In your bedroom Bakugo shoves you back on the bed, a small yelp leaves your mouth before he’s able to flip you over where you’re face down. He squeezed the plush flesh of your ass while grinding his clothed cock into you, “See what you do to me? All because you want to be a little tease.” A moan left your lips when you felt your shorts be moved to the side and the cool air hit your aching pussy.

“Kachaa-ah!” His hand swiftly landed a blow to your ass.

“That is not my name.” He growls. You whimper as he massages the spot he just spanked. “Try again princess.”

“K-Katsuki.” You whined. You felt him drag a finger through your folds and another moan let loose.

“Good girl. Say it louder.”

“Katsuki!” He started rubbing small circles on your clit and you started squirming.

You gasped as you felt one of his thick fingers slide into your entrance, “Gotta get you ready for my cock sweetheart. Don’t want to hurt you.” He curled his finger inside of you over and over while slowly rubbing your clit. Moans escape your body in waves, unable to hold them back. A loud gasp came from you as he added not one but two more fingers.

“Katsuki!” You could feel your walls stretching around him.

“Fuck you’re so tight, I guess birdbrain couldn’t get you worked up like this huh?” His fingers pumped in and out, getting you all slick and dripping for his cock.

“We-fuck-we never did anything.” You forced out between moans. At that Katsuki let out a growl and pushed his fingers deeper.

“Even better, I get to brag.” He pressed a soft kiss to your inner thigh before sinking his teeth into the flesh

“Ah! Kats- ooooh!” Suddenly he was sucking on your overstimulated clit, the bite on your leg turned into a pleasurable pain and you bucked your hips into his face. “Fuck I’m gonna cum, fuck fuck- ahhh!” The knot that had been tightening in your stomach finally snapped and you came all over Katsuki’s face. You squirmed as he kept lapping at your folds, gathering every drop of you.

Heavy breaths came from you as you let go of Katsuki’s hair and let him come back to your face. He slams his lips into yours so you could taste yourself on him. “Now, you’re gonna take all of me and I want you to scream my name. That’s your punishment for being a tease.” Still on your hands and knees you look back just in time to see Katsuki pulling his dick out from his jeans. Fuck he’s huge, there’s no way I’m taking him all! “After tonight Midoriya is gonna know just how big of a whore his little sister is.” Katsuki lines his tip up to your pussy and slips in slowly at first. He lets you get used to the tip stretching you out, then his hands grip your hips as tight as he can and rams the rest of him into you.

“Oh fuck! Katsuki!” He was easily eight inches, no way he was less than that. He was slamming into you over and over causing you to cry out. He grabbed ahold of your hair and pulled your head back causing your back to arch into the bed. Your eyes were half way closed and your tongue was hanging out due to the immense pleasure when a flash went off.

“Bet you birdbrain is gonna be so jealous that I’m fucking this pretty little cunt of yours and not him huh?” Katsuki pushed you face back into the pillow and continued with harder thrusts, you could feel his thighs beginning to shake. “Gonna tell him how you were such a slut for me, taking my cock so well and not even able to speak.” At this point you couldn’t scream any longer, he had delivered on his promise of fucking you dumb.

With a few final thrusts you could feel the warmth inside as Katsuki came, biting your shoulder while he thrust through his high. He stilled for a few minutes then pulled out, you couldn’t move anything. Katsuki had thoroughly fucked you to the point that you were seeing stars. You turned your head to him and saw him sitting on his phone, a smirk settled across his face. A few moments later a ping sounded from his phone, Katsuki smiled and showed you the screen.

Birdbrain: Fuck you man. Fuck. You.

#aizawa smut #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #dabi x reader #imagine #kiribaku #kirishima eijirou #my hero academia #shota aizawa x reader #smut

197 notes · View notes

gyu-effect · 1 year

Text

(tryna do) what lovers do || y.jh

"WE ARE JUST TRYNA DO WHAT LOVERS DO”

PAIRING || Jeonghan x Female Reader

GENRES || Fake Dating AU, College AU, Humour, Fluff, Friends To Lovers AU, Rich Kids AU

SUMMARY || When you had roped Jeonghan into your idea of being a ‘pretend’ couple, you did not expect the lie to grow this big. What was supposed to be a one day thing soon became a rather frequent occurrence. And the gravity of the situation did not really hit you until your parents were requesting an audience with your new ‘boyfriend’. Will the two of you be able to keep your act till then?

Or, in which, you keep promising yourself that this would be the last day you pretend to have feelings for Yoon Jeonghan.

SERIES MASTERLIST || teen, age

MUSIC || What Lover Do by Maroon 5 and SZA

WARNINGS || Joshua being a menace to the society, one mention of threesome as a joke (I really tried to keep it sfw but this was inevitable really sorry), drunk Jeonghan, a make out scene, probably very wrong elite party etiquettes (don’t come at me pls), a bit of swearing

WORD COUNT || 15k

A/N || As much as I was dying to write this fic, a lot of times I had to stop it because the flow was so bad. I hope it doesn’t affect the outcome so do tell me what you guys think about it! I would love to hear all of your opinions about it! Also for better understanding, Jeonghan’ suit was the one he wore for Don’t Lie Series Pt.2!

TAGLIST || @fragmentof-indifference @millielovescheol @jkbabiey @kokoiinuts @alyssng @cecedrake2217 @dr3aluv5 @romeosbreastmilk @y00nzin0 [thank you for being interested! if you wanted to be added to the series taglist or my general taglist, send me an ask!]

“Oh my god, why am I even here?” You sobbed to yourself, as you frantically turned the pages of the thick textbook, searching desperately for anything that could help you in your project. Despite being in the library for the past four hours, you had managed to write only two pages of your five page essay. You cursed yourself mentally for picking such a difficult topic in an attempt to be different from others.

“To get your degree and a job that will secure your future?” Seungkwan replied, as though he hadn’t been complaining about his own work a minute ago.

“Thanks. I wasn’t really sure before why I applied for college but now I definitely am.” You muttered, squeezing your eyes shut as you closed your laptop. As the semester was approaching the end, all the project deadlines had clogged up your calendar and you were pathetically struggling to finish everything on time.

“You did not ask yourself this question when you were at the party yesterday.” He reminded you, causing you to open your eyes and glare at him.

“I’ve been to a maximum of three parties throughout this entire semester minus our initiation party. How much more do you want me to quit? If I don’t let out my stress in some way or the other I’m going to combust.”

“Lies. You hate these parties and your stress busting mechanism is to go shopping with Kim Yeri.”

You raised your hands in defeat, but still stuck out your tongue at your best friend. Just because he was right didn’t mean you couldn’t complain and whine to him.

“Speaking of parties,” he continued after shutting his laptop and looking at you, “What are you going to do about the one next week?”

You stared at him.

“Next week? What party?”

“Min Seolah’s party? She sent an invitation to you?”

“Ah,” you said, vaguely remembering something in your inbox which you might have deleted out of anger at your pending work. “I just won’t go. Where’s it taking place? Her apartment?”

Now it was Seungkwan’s turn to stare at you.

“You didn’t go through the invitation did you?” He glared at you when you smiled sheepishly at him. “It’s an elite party. And you are expected to have an escort. In more polite terms, a date.”

You felt your smile dip as soon as you heard the word ‘elite’. You absolutely hated these formal parties. More than boring, they were painful beyond words and talking with all the powerful delegates who were usually present there always exhausted you mentally.

“Can’t I- can’t we excuse ourselves?”

“Our parents will be there.”

That line hit you like a truck and you finally felt the realisation sink in. “Oh my god. Oh my god, Seungkwan. I-I need to pick a dress! And shoes! And-And an escort! Where the hell am I supposed to get a date?” Even Seungkwan didn’t seem to have an answer for this. You continued your rambling as the panic finally settled in properly. “Oh god. How does one, who had next to zero social interactions outside her friend circle, manage to find a date in less than a week? And how are you so calm about this? Do you want to pretend to be each other’s escorts? Everyone knows there’s nothing between us anyways.”

“Er, about that.” Seungkwan began, awkwardly scratching his neck. “I already have a date.”

For the second time that day, Boo Seungkwan had dropped another bomb on you. You closed your mouth that had been hanging open and edged your chair closer to his suspiciously.

“Wait, what? When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me anything?”

“It happened just right before I came into the library!” He began, clearly flustered as he was avoiding your gaze and aimlessly flipping the pages of the book in front of him (it was actually your book, a subject he didn’t even have). “Sowon just- just randomly asked whether I wanted to go with her because she thought I was cool and I was so taken aback, I said yes without even thinking-”

“Is that all it takes to ask you out? Just tell you that you are cool?” You asked, leaning back and grinning at your furiously blushing best friend. You had seen Seungkwan embarrassed (and had sometimes even been the cause of it), but to see him this shy because of some girl from economics seemed worthy to make fun of. In the back of your mind, you made a mental note to tell this to Chan.

“Are you worried about that? Shouldn’t you be worried about your lack of date, instead?”

“Yeah…But I’ve got to finish this assignment before.” You always had your priorities right, and getting a degree was definitely one of them. “And I’m hungry.”

“It’s almost lunch time. Want to grab something from the canteen?” Seungkwan asked, checking his watch. You nodded and both of you packed up your things, walking out into the sunlight after what felt like an eternity of being in the dark library.

No sooner had you stepped out of the threshold, you felt a gush of wind from behind you that nearly knocked you over, but Seungkwan wasn’t that lucky. He stumbled onto the ground as that gush of wind (now identified as Kwon Soonyoung) grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up. Or rather yanked him up.

“Hey! Do you want to die?” Seungkwan yelled, as you blinked and tried to process what had just happened. Then feeling a smile tug at the corner of your lips at the sight of Soonyoung nervously apologising to Seungkwan, you gently patted the latter’s back.

“Are you okay?” You asked, his neck visibly red at the sudden tugging of his shirt collar.

“I highly doubt you should be smiling while asking me that?”

“I- okay I’m sorry.” By now you were grinning. “Drink some water, you should be fine. And Soonyoung, why the hell did you try to knock us out?”

“I wasn’t trying to! I just wanted to surprise Seungkwan from behind but I guess I ran a bit too fast.”

“A bit?” Seungkwan was still massaging his neck. “I bet you would have told that excuse to the judges for attempted murder after getting arrested because my head got dislocated from my spine.”

“Anyways, what do you think they are serving us for lunch?” Soonyoung asked, hastily changing the subject.

Before you or Seungkwan could reply, all of a sudden you realised you had left your jacket on the chair in the library. “Uh, guys I’ll catch up with you in the mess? I left my jacket behind.”

“You don’t want us to wait for you?” Seungkwan asked but you shook your head in negative.

“It’s fine. But don’t forget to save me a seat or else I’ll steal all your tiger plushies Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung faked a look of horror, pulling Seungkwan and breaking into a run. This earned an eye roll from Seungkwan as he waved you goodbye. Giggling at their retreating figure you went back inside the library. Thankfully, it was still there and slipping into it, you quickly walked out again.

This time when you walked out, you found yourself staring at the couple underneath the willow tree near the library. It was still full of leaves despite it being almost autumn. It was almost cute to see the couple until you remembered your own position; you had to find a date before the week ended.

The sun glared on you and you instinctively took a step back, immediately colliding with someone. The two of you let out an ‘ah!’ as you stumbled back more before you felt the person’s hands on your shoulder, stabilising you.

“I’m so sorry!” You gushed, turning back to look at the person. You found yourself looking up at Yoon Jeonghan’s equally surprised face as he helped you up. “Jeonghan, shit, I’m so sorry. I should have looked.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Are you okay? Don’t walk backwards like that, you might get hurt. Unless, you have Mad-Eye Moody's eyes.” He joked casually and you smiled sheepishly at him.

Jeonghan was a good friend of yours; he was in your close friends circle and you thoroughly enjoyed his presence (as long as you weren’t the one getting pranked). He also happened to be smart and handsome, a plus point which made him a campus heartthrob. As you took in his appearance, you noticed he had grown out his hair a bit. A gentle wind blew against the two of you and his hair ruffled slightly, sunlight catching his face as he grinned at you.

And then, it struck you.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, as you stared at him, your mouth slightly open. “Don’t tell me there’s sauce on my face and Joshua didn’t tell me about it.”

That snapped you back to the present and you shook your head. “Er, no. Um, Jeonghan?”

“Yeah?”

You knew for sure he had been invited to the same upscale party as you, but you had to make sure before asking him.

“You don’t have a significant other, do you? Or maybe a crush?”

Now it was time for him to stare at you.

“Uh…no? Where is this coming from?”

“Then do you want to date me?”

Jeonghan stared at you for a good few seconds, as though trying to find out if you were joking. Immediately you realised how sudden you sounded and quickly corrected yourself, while grabbing his arm to calm him down. “I mean, would you like to be my escort for Min Seolha’s party? That is, if you still don’t have anyone?”

“Oh.” Jeonghan laughed awkwardly, before patting your hand. “But you know, you are supposed to get a potential partner as your escort. I mean…”

His voice trailed off and you dropped your hand, feeling slightly embarrassed. You were a bit disappointed, but you could understand where he was coming from and you definitely did not want to pressurise him.

“Ah, of course I understand! Forget I asked. It’s just that, I don’t have anyone in my mind right now so I thought if anyone who was comfortable with me was willing to go-”

“I’m not uncomfortable with you!” He exclaimed, grabbing your hand. “I just- I just thought maybe you would want to go with someone you like. Or…yeah, damn. You are right. Even I don’t have anyone in mind and I definitely can’t find anyone in a week.”

“If it makes you too uncomfortable going with a friend, we can pretend to be a couple.”

The words were out of your mouth before you even thought about it but it was too late to take it back. Jeonghan looked taken aback and you were going to apologise to him once more but instead he nodded at your plan.

“Oh yeah, that sounds like a good idea. It won’t even raise any odd questions.”

You didn’t expect Jeonghan to agree to your plan so quickly, let alone the last part so all you could was a flustered laugh. This earned a soft smile from him as he asked you, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” You lied. “Don’t tell me later on it’s a prank, okay?”

His smile fell a little as he pouted at you, immediately causing you to wince at your words. “Hey, just because I cheat at games doesn’t mean I play with people’s emotions.”

“I know, I know. I was just joking. You are an angel, Jeonghan.” It was true though. He was a very sweet friend and always took care of those around him. In fact at get-togethers, he was always the one who made sure everyone had enough food. He helped with notes or anything related to studies. You did know that he was a really nice person, except when he was trying to be a menace to the society.

“By the way, do we have any rules or something?” He asked.

“Rules?”

“We need to make this a little believable right? Or else people are going to easily realise that we just agreed to be each other's date because we couldn’t find anyone and honestly, that’s a bit embarrassing.”

“Yeah.” You scratched your neck, not having thought this far. What he was saying was true, if this plan backfired you both could become a laughing stock and the last thing you need in your already full plate was another lecture from your parents.” “Yeah, I think we do.”

“Then do you want to have lunch in my room?”

“It’s a good thing you got the dorm closest to the library.” You said sarcastically, as you entered his room and finally caught your breath. You collapsed onto his sofa, mentally cursing the building planner for putting the library near the entrance of the campus and some of the boys’ dormitories at the other end. Jeonghan flopped down beside you, equally out of breath despite doing this for quite some time now.

“Hey, it could have been worse. I could have got an apartment outside the campus and who knows, we might have still been travelling by bus just to get to my place.”

“That’s true.” You grumbled. “But in that case, we would have just gone to my dorm.”

“I’ll need a special pass to enter the girls’ dorm.” He groaned. “I wish our college wasn’t so strict for first years. Anyways, we should-”

“Hey, have you seen my shampoo?”

A new voice came into the living room and you turned towards it, just to find yourself staring at a half-naked Hong Joshua, standing in front of the bedroom door with just a towel around his torso. You felt your cheek burn as you took in his dripping torso, muscles flexing with almost the slightest movement. At first he hadn’t noticed you but then his eyes locked with yours, causing you to realise what you were doing.

But before you could even look away, you felt Jeonghan’s hands practically slam into your face, covering your eyes from the (amazing) sight you were staring at.

“Hey!” Jeonghan yelped, his voice an octave higher as he too sounded flustered by this. “Why did you come out without checking if anyone was even there? You heard her voice right?”

“I-I- I did not expect-” Joshua stammered and you interrupted him.

“I’m sorry!” You squeaked, still recovering. “I’m sorry that I looked!”

“Uh, no. I shouldn’t have- I should- Yeah, I should just go. Catch up with you guys later!”

Once you heard the bedroom door slam shut, Jeonghan removed his hand from your eyes. You looked at him and he still seemed shocked, and even a bit embarrassed.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He muttered, clearing his throat as he poured out a cup of water for you. You took the cup from his hand with a small thank you, glad that you had something to cool yourself down.

“No. I’m sorry. I should have immediately looked away.”

“It was sudden.” Jeonghan said, as though understanding you completely. He still seemed unable to meet your eyes, and was busy rearranging the coasters kept on the coffee table in front of you, despite them being already arranged properly. Somehow looking at the Yoon Jeonghan like this set off the devilish side inside you.

“Does Joshua work out everyday?” You asked casually.

“He does. Not only does he have a gym membership, he also has some stuff in his room.” Jeonghan replied, without missing a beat. He seemed to have regained his composure because he smiled at you and asked, “Why? having second thoughts about me and want to go for Joshua?”

“What?” You spluttered over your water, your time to be taken aback. “I- I would never-”

“Relax, I’m just joking. If you are with him, your ears might drop because of him singing ‘Sunday morning, rain is falling’. Who knows, he probably went back to get showered on because it’s not raining today. It is Sunday, after all.”

You stared at him, trying to make which part was real and which wasn’t. Even though his smile was genuine, you had fallen for his tricks quite a few times and you knew better not to trust that angelic smile. But having a proper one on one conversation with him made you realise how convincing he was.

“Er, let’s go back to why I came here. I think we should make some boundaries so that neither of us are uncomfortable with each other and also some points which might convince people we are dating.”

“Right.” Jeonghan said, magically conjuring up a paper and pen from somewhere. “So first of all, I think we should decide on pet names.”

You paused, trying to think of something plausible for him. For some reason, the very thought of having to call him baby or sweetheart in public was making you cringe (and you were sure he would too) so you thought of something that he won't mind being called and at the same time showed your closeness.

Before you could tell him your thoughts, the bedroom door opened once again and Joshua walked out (this time fully clothed and dry). He pulled a chair and sat himself opposite to both of you, giving you an awkward smile.

“Let me apologise again. I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable or something.” He said. You shook your head, before giving him your apology too.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have stared.” Joshua nodded as though accepting your apology and then pointed at the paper in Jeonghan’s hand. “What are you both up to?”

“We are dating.”

“We are pretending to be a couple”

The two of you said it at the same time, and you felt dumb. You knew Jeonghan and Joshua were best friends but you didn’t expect Jeonghan to tell him this immediately. Letting out an awkward laughter at Joshua, you turned towards Jeonghan who was looking at you surprised.

“I’m sorry, was I not supposed to tell this?” He asked and you quietly grumbled. It wasn’t that you weren’t going to tell Seungkwan either, but you thought maybe it would be after you and Jeonghan had finalised everything and you had sorted your thoughts.

“Er, it’s fine.” You said hastily as Joshua got up to leave. “I think it’s better if you could help us too.” He smiled and sat down, looking excited as though the three of you were planning to pull the greatest prank of all time.

“Joshua’s an expert in this department.” Jeonghan said, and you turned to look at him. His eyes were practically shining as he smiled innocently at his roommate. Looking at him like this, you felt a smile tug at the corner of your lips, something infectious about his childishness.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s just exaggerating.” Joshua said, rolling his eyes. “You know how to flirt as much as I do.”

“Then what do you suggest I should call Y/N?”

“To be honest, I think it would be better if you just call her by her name.” Joshua said, actually thinking hard about it. “Your voice kind of goes soft when you are talking to your loved ones though, so maybe try that instead with Y/N’s name.”

“Hey Joshua. People call you Josh, right?” You asked very seriously, leaning towards him a bit. He nodded and you continued. “Then should I call you Shua?”

“Hey! We are deciding pet names for each other! Not for you and Joshua!” Jeonghan protested, though he was laughing at your seriousness. Joshua laughed too and gave you a thumbs up, causing you to lean back into the couch, satisfied.

Then turning towards Jeonghan you said, “Do you mind if I call you Hannie?”

He cocked his head towards the side as his eyes widened a little. But this time he didn’t look surprised, instead he looked genuinely curious as to why you picked that name, silently urging you to go on.

You felt your cheeks tingle with heat a little at the way he was looking at you attentively, so you quickly took a sip of your water before continuing. “Well, like Joshua said you kind of speak softly with people you are very comfortable with. So I felt…Hannie suited you a lot. I think it’s soft enough to suit you.” You said sheepishly.

“I thought you were calling me Shua?” Joshua interrupted, an evil glint in his eyes. You immediately knew he was going to pull your leg so you decided to play along. “I was joking. I use pet names only for my beloved boyfriend.”

You stressed on the ‘beloved boyfriend’ part and looked at Jeonghan. He was busy scribbling something on the paper but when he heard you accentuate that part, he looked up, eyes flicking between you and Joshua as the whole room stared at him. He looked surprised (this seemed to be the only response you could get out of him today) but nonetheless when his eyes landed on yours, he smiled at you softly.

Sunlight glided into the room through their partially open balcony, throwing light on Jeonghan and giving him almost an angelic glow. His eyes curved into half moons as he smiled at you, his long hair falling in front of his eyes a little. For the first time you noticed how delicate his features were, like he was a beautiful statue but carved in glass.

You felt your heart stutter a little and you frowned. Looking at the glass of water in your hand, you emptied it one go. Maybe you weren’t drinking enough water? It was afternoon and it had been quite some time since you left your dorm.

“Oh, sorry! I promised you lunch right?” Jeonghan exclaimed, thinking you drank all the water because you were hungry. Before you could respond, he had already gotten up, walking towards some sheafs of pamphlets kept on their tv cabinet. “You like braised chicken, don’t you?”

You blinked at him, surprised. “How did you know that?”

“You always order that when we all eat out.” Jeonghan stated causally. He began flipping all the pamphlets, then finding one particular restaurant’s, he took out his phone and dialled the number. Was Jeonghan always this attentive?

“What about you?” You asked Joshua. He got up and sat beside you. “Jeonghan knows what I usually order. So, can I ask you a question?”

Through the corner of your eyes you saw Jeonghan slip into his bedroom. “Sure, go ahead Shua.”

He grinned at you and leaned in closer, until you could smell the faint scent of his soap. You saw his eyes change to seriousness as his voice dropped a little before asking, “Can I ask why are you and Jeonghan doing this?”

“Oh.” It was out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. Here you thought he was going to either flirt with you or let you in on a serious secret about Jeonghan but instead he asked this. You laughed awkwardly to cover up your flusteredness. What are you thinking, Y/N? You are with Jeonghan now! This isn’t the time to think about his best friend and roommate! “Ah, it’s just that we need an escort to Min Seolah’s party next week so me and Jeonghan decided to pretend we are a couple just so that we can be each other’s escort.”

“Ah, then were you open to anyone you were comfortable with?”

“Yeah, as long as the other person too was comfortable with it. It kind of just popped out of my mouth, to be honest.”

He scrunched his nose a little, as though regretting something. “I wish I was there instead of Jeonghan then.”

You blinked at his words, trying to process what he had just said. Had the Hong Joshua said he wished it was him in a fake relationship with you? Sure the two of you were friends but still, it did nothing to stop the sudden whooping feeling in your stomach.

“Too bad it was me then.”

You turned to see Jeonghan leaning against his door frame, grinning at the two of you indicating that he was joking. Immediately you felt guilt clutch at your throat. You had roped Yoon Jeonghan into your proposition of dating but here you were now, flirting with his close friend.

Joshua, on the other hand, seemed unfazed about it. If anything, he looked amused as he leaned back into the couch lazily, studying Jeonghan’s expression.

“Anyways, they’ll deliver in half an hour's time. Come on, Y/N. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

“What else?” He was suddenly so serious that you were taken aback slightly.

“We need to talk about physical touch and kissing too, of course.”

“Kissing?!”

“So did you two discuss about kissing?” Kim Yeri, your roommate, asked as you threw your face into your pillow to muffle your scream.

“No, I ran out of there before we even got started on that topic. Talking about physical touch itself was so embarrassing, I thought I would die if we started talking about kissing. He’s so serious about it. Why did I even suggest such a thing?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, bestie.” Yeri said comfortingly, patting your back.

“I mean, he’s so nice to me. I feel like…I feel like I’m using him or something.”

“Then don’t use him. Use this opportunity to…ah, you know, get a boyfriend.” You glared at the girl sitting on your bed and she winked at you, causing you to get up and smack her lightly with a pillow.

“No way! This is just an act! How shallow am I to fall for a man who agreed to pretend to be my boyfriend?”

Yeri shrugged, as though it wasn’t a big deal. “Happens all the time in movies. Besides, Yoon Jeonghan isn’t that bad, is he? He’s funny, friendly, handsome and smart. He’s so fucking pretty too. Everyone loves his jokes and pranks.”

“Yeah, as long as you aren’t the one getting pranked.” You muttered, eyes darting to your phone. He had told you to message him once you reached and you had done, but he still hadn’t even read it yet. You mulled Yeri’s thoughts in your head. She was right, Jeonghan was pretty. You had always known that but somehow seeing him against the sunlight made you see him in a different light. Quite Literally.

“So when’s your next date?”

“It’s not a date…” You began, but stopped when Yeri raised an eyebrow at you. “Fine, we are just going shopping to buy some ‘couple’ things.”

“Sounds like a rather cute date to me.”

“Yeri!”

How the rest of the evening and the next day passed by quickly was shocking to you (you wished time passed this quickly during statistics class but no, time and you had to have a beef with time). You had let Seungkwan into your plan and he had also sworn that he wouldn’t tell it to anyone, even if he was being threatened with not being able to drink iced americano for an entire year (a threat you were highly tempted to try out but alas, you loved your best friend too much). But he was a committed best friend. Seungkwan had even written down some points to make your relationship more realistic and you had hastily stuffed it down your coat’s pocket, so that you could show it to Jeonghan later on.

Very soon, you found yourself and Jeonghan seated on the sofa of the high end boutique near to your college, waiting for the attendants to attend to you both. You were a regular customer here due to your trips with Yeri and even sometimes with Seungkwan, so the shop assistant knew you from before. They had greeted you with their usual friendly smile they always gave you, until their eyes landed on Jeonghan, travelling down to your entwined hands.

Jeonghan had insisted that the two of you hold hands when you enter the shop, saying that it would be a practice. At first you were a bit uncertain, but then he reminded you that it was ideal for your boyfriend to take you shopping, and that shop assistants did not gossip much. You were still not sure about it but nonetheless slipped your hand in his.

His bony fingers grasped your gently as he gave you a smile, pulling you into the boutique with him. Despite his hand being cold, you felt your fingers tingle underneath his touch, a sensation you kept feeling even after he had let go of your hand.

The attendants looked a bit too elated as they ushered you and Jeonghan into a room, telling they’ll be right back to attend the two of you.

Presently, Jeonghan was bobbing his legs beside you, both of your knees brushing against each other slightly. He seemed unfazed by this and so should have been you, but for some reason this made you hyper aware of your both’s closeness. You could smell his cologne, making you realise you had never really gone shopping with another man who wasn’t, well, Seungkwan.

It also made you wonder whether he had done this before with someone else. He looked so experienced, the way he just casually checked over some of the items displayed, as though he had a habit of buying what caught his eyes for his significant other.

“Have you done this before?” You asked, and he looked at you confused, blinking as though asking you to elaborate. “I mean,” you said after clearing your throat. For some reason you were feeling very awkward asking him this, almost feeling the heat tingle on your cheeks. “Have you gone on a date to the boutique to buy couple clothes?”

“Ah, no. This is my first time actually.” He said with a soft smile. You felt relief settle in you as you automatically smiled back at him, before catching yourself. What are you doing? You screamed internally, wondering why Jeonghan was so soft with you.

You realised that the way he smiled and the way he talked to you had always given you this mad urge to melt right then and there in front of him, as though you just couldn't bring yourself to be harsh with him. True, you had yelled at him a few times for cheating (quite blatantly at that) while playing games but it had always ended in laughter and giggles, as though you couldn’t stay angry at him for long.

He gave you the urge to stare at him for hours, studying and etching his features into your brain forever, as though he was a piece you would have to sculpt later on. It amazed you that no matter how many times you looked at him, you always found him beautiful as though it was the first time you had laid your eyes on him.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the shop assistant, asking what the two of you would like.

“Can we get clothes which complement each other? Like even subtly is fine for us.” Jeonghan asked.

Hell, he even had an amazing voice. He was so well mannered that you were sure if you had met Jeonghan at one of your parent’s parties instead, you would have fallen heads over heels with him.

“Not matching couple clothes?”

“No. Something which complements each other would be better. What do you think, Y/N?”

To be honest, you thought that was a genius idea. In that way, you could even wear the dress after your ‘breakup’, without making things awkward. Leave it to Yoon Jeonghan to sort out everything just perfectly.

“Yeah, I think that is a brilliant idea too. Oh, we also need to pick your suit and my dress for the party.” You reminded him.

“Do you want to choose for each other?”

“What?” The question had completely caught you off guard. Wasn’t picking dresses for each other something couples did? You both really didn’t need to act as a couple too much here, so why was he suggesting it?

“We don’t have to do it, if you are feeling awkward about it.” He said gently. If Yoon Jeonghan treated you sweetly one more time, you were sure you would start smiling at him like a fool constantly. Then his eyes lit up mischievously and he leaned in, as though about to tell you his biggest secret. “But I do have a great fashion choice.”

You let out a laugh at this, amused that that was what he had wanted to say. Smiling at him you shook your head, indicating that he could choose for you.

“What’s your favourite colour?” He asked, looking at dresses hanging on the hangers being rolled in front of the two of you.

“I like pink. Or any light shade, actually.”

“Then how’s this one?” He pointed at one of the pink gowns that had caught your eyes previously, and you nodded eagerly at him.

“I’ll try that out!” You said as you walked into the changing room, glad that both of your tastes had aligned well. Once you were done you stepped out, clearing your throat to get Jeonghan’s attention, who was busy on his phone. He looked up and froze for a second, before his eyes darted all over your figure, checking you out with his mouth slightly open.

You felt your cheeks flush at the way he was looking at you, the way he swallowed and then smiled at you gently. Your stomach fluttered at his action, unable to stop yourself from mirroring his smile. Jeonghan got up and walked over to you, grinning at you as he cocked his head towards the side slightly.

And for some reason, that action made you feel even more giddy.

“How do I look?” You asked, sounding breathless for some reason. Embarrassed, you tried to cover it up by pretending to be excited, and twirling in front of the mirror once to see for yourself.

“You look amazing. Like really, really beautiful.”

He sounded really genuine and you beamed at him, equally happy that both of you chose a dress that suited you very well. You had been called beautiful many times, mostly by men trying to flatter you or your father, but something about the way Jeonghan said it made you shy.

“Should we choose one for you?” You asked once you came back from the changing room, eyeing all the tuxedos that had been brought in now. Jeonghan nodded and you walked over to the rack, searching for one that would bring out his delicate features more beautifully.

“How about this one?” You asked, pointing at a white coloured one. It looked like a conductor’s tuxedo and you felt that it would really go well with his long hair. He nodded and went inside the changing room, while you sat down on the couch, waiting for him to return.

“Y/N?” Someone softly called you, and you looked up to see Jeonghan smiling at you, all dressed up in the outfit you had picked for him. He was just smiling, an expression he gave you quite often and honestly it shouldn’t have had much effect on you, it really shouldn’t. You should have just smiled back, complimented him, paid for your stuff and gone out to eat a round of ice cream that you had promised him.

But instead, it had a great effect on you.

Just Yoon Jeonghan standing there and smiling at you had a huge effect on you. It made time slow down as you felt your heart hammer loudly in your chest, squeezing painfully every now and then. If you hadn't been sitting down your knees might have given away, breath gone for a second as you admired for the millionth time how beautiful he was.

Because he really was. He looked so handsome, so pretty and so- every adjective that you could think of but couldn’t really because of how goddamned ethereal he looked right now. It was like the suit was tailor made for just him. He looked like a prince straight out from your dreams and it took you all your willpower to stop fluttering in your heart.

Realising you were staring at him for too long, you looked away immediately, releasing a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. Your cheeks burned in shame at the effect he had on you, despite it being just the second time you had hung out with him after deciding to fake your relationship.

You had known him for quite some time, it wasn’t like the two of you had become friends just yesterday.

And yet, you felt like you were ‘rediscovering’ Jeonghan. Like his smile for example. Even though you knew he was pretty, nothing prepared you ever for the sudden flutters in your heart everytime he smiled at you. Or the way he smelled a bit too good, when he had come to pick you up earlier, like he had just stepped out of the shower.

“Y/N?” Jeonghan called you, jostling back to the present. His usual angelic smile was now replaced by a smirk, and you groaned internally and cursed yourself for digging up your own grave. Why did you have to stare at him like that? “Do I look so good that I left you speechless?”

“Shut up, Yoon. You look fine.” You emphasised on the ‘fine’, rolling your eyes so that he got your message but that just caused him to grin at you more.

Nope. Nope. There was no way you were developing feelings for Yoon Jeonghan. Definitely not after you knew how sinister he was and definitely not after you asked him to be your fake boyfriend. You didn’t want to inflate his ego by making him think that he could make you fall for him by just literally breathing, all the while he played the act of being your fake date.

Slowly you got up from your seat and walked past him casually, letting the shop owner know that you were ready to pay.

You were determined to not let Jeonghan’s presence shake you. It’s just for a week, Y/N. After that the two of you can just go back to being friends and this stupid crush you might be developing will go away.

What you didn’t though, was that you were bad at predicting the future. Vey, very bad.

“Hey, I think both Joshua and Jeonghan have a thing for you. Ever considered being in a poly relationship?” Seungkwan whispered into your ears not-so-subtly.

You glared at him for this scandalous comment before quickly glancing at Jeonghan and Joshua sitting opposite to the two of you. Luckily, they both were busy with their midterm project and were discussing something while comparing notes on their laptops.

The promised ice cream ‘date’ of three days ago had to be cancelled because it had begun raining all of a sudden and neither of you wanted to get wetter than what you were when you ran into the bus stand. So you had promised to take him to the little cafe inside your campus instead, and Joshua and Seungkwan decided to tag along to act as ‘chaperones’, though you weren’t sure what they were chaperoning because both you and Jeonghan had lots of assignments left and had been planning to do your own work.

“Shut up, Boo!” You hissed, never wanting to murder your best friend more than right now. “What if they heard you?”

“What about it? Both of them know that everyone wants to have a threesome with them.”

“Have a threesome with whom?”

You turned to Joshua in horror, feeling embarrassment creep into your cheeks as he eagerly looked between the two of you. Jeonghan on the other hand looked surprised, as though not even sure what the conversation was about.

“Have a threesome with whom? Us?” Joshua asked again, his smile a bit too excited for his own good. You thought he would be uncomfortable with it but instead he looked excited about this conversation, causing you to groan as you buried your face in your hand.

“Stop acting like you don’t know! Don’t rub it on me that the two of you are more handsome than me!” Seungkwan sulked, giving his signature side eye to Joshua. But that just caused Joshua to smile more brightly at him, as though Seungkwan’s misery was his pleasure (which it probably was).

“I’m not rubbing it on you! I might be handsome but there’s no one cuter than you, Seungkwan. Right, Y/N?” You faked a look of disgust and pretended to puke over your drink. Though you wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you were even willing a fight a lion if it disagreed that your best friend was adorable and handsome (you dearly hoped it wouldn’t come down to that situation. The last time all of you went to the zoo, Minghao and Jihoon nearly pushed Soonyoung into the tiger’s den for claiming to be one so you learnt that whatever you told, your friends would try their level best to make it come true).

“Are you two flirting? Is this a double date?” Jeonghan asked, head turning between Joshua and Seungkwan as though he was watching a tennis match.

“No way, I’m only going to date the person who calls me Shua, no one else.”

Your eyes widened at his statement and you gulped in a huge amount of your drink, causing you to choke and violently cough. While Seungkwan and Joshua just laughed at you (you were literally dying and of course that would be the immediate response of the people you called friends), Jeonghan looked worriedly at you and reached out to gently pat your hand. You felt your breathing slowly ease down due to his action, and he grabbed your hand in his to gently rub circles with his thumb.

It was a rather small act from a friend who just cared about you. Nothing romantic or intimate at all, and yet you felt a warm fuzzy feeling grow at your heart. He smiled at you gently when you had completely stopped coughing, pouring a cup of water and handing it to you.

You were grateful for the drink and you took in a sip cautiously, your mind still wandering to the now disappearing feeling in your chest.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the waitress who came to your table, and you recognised her as someone you might have seen talking to your Applied Physics - I professor. She gave you, Seungkwan and Joshua a half-assed smile, but when her eyes landed on Jeonghan, she smiled at him in the most glamorous way ever.

“So what can I get you guys now?” She asked. Miyeon, as her name tag stated, was clearly talking to the entire table yet her eyes were trained only on Jeonghan. You saw him return her smile politely, and you felt your insides churn a little.

Because it was the same smile he always gave you. The same goddamn smile that had you feeling that you were on cloud nine, that made you shy and that same smile that made you feel special.

So he wasn’t doing it just for you?

You never thought you would ever be jealous over something this trivial. You didn’t even like him in that way and yet, you could almost feel the disappointment clutching at your heart almost a bit too tightly.

It then hit you that the only expression Jeonghan had given you so far was either his look of surprise or a smile, but nothing more than that. Whenever he was hanging out with the entire gang or even now when it was just Joshua, you and Seungkwan, he had been laughing and cracking lots of jokes. But when he was with you all alone, all he did was smile and give you compliments, as though the two of you had just met due to a blind date set up by your parents.

Did you make Jeonghan that uncomfortable? Was he too nice to say no to your idea back then?

But the Jeonghan you knew wasn’t a pushover, so he must have thought about it a bit before agreeing, right? You are just overthinking everything. You chided yourself.

Your further thoughts were all stopped when you noticed everyone at the table staring at you.

“Your order?” Miyeon asked, annoyance evident in her voice.

“Er, I would like to have your Special Strawberry Jam Sandwich. And another cup of coffee please.”

“Got it.” Then turning back towards Jeonghan, she said, “So that’s your order too? Not your regular?”

Jeonghan nodded as the word regular whirled in your brain. He visited this cafe often? Had he- had he lied to you then?

The rest of the meal passed by in a blur, with the three boys doing the most of the talking. You joined in once or twice but mostly stayed to yourself, contemplating hard on what to do next.

It wasn’t that you were crushing on Jeonghan and that was making you sad. It was more like you didn’t want him to feel extremely uncomfortable around you, seeing how he had clearly lied to you about the cafe and treated you just the way he treated any other person on the street.

Soon it was time to leave and the four of you walked out of the cafe. But before you could part ways with the boys, Jeonghan grabbed your arm and stopped you.

“I want to talk to you.” He said and you nodded, realising that it would be better if even you got all your questions cleared up. Through the corner of your eyes you saw Seungkwan take out his phone and hastily type down something, and felt your phone vibrate almost immediately after he hit the send button.

Taking out your phone you checked his message, feeling a smile tug at the corner of your lips.

[uriboo]: if yoon jeonghan tries anything funny, just send sos. no matter where i am, i’ll kick his ass using my special kick reserved for soonyoung only.

You gave him a thumbs up and waved him goodbye, watching Joshua and Seungkwan’s retreating figures disappear round the corner. It was almost evening by now and the sky had turned a light shade of orangish pink. You stared it for some time until you felt Jeonghan tug you once more.

“Come on. Let’s talk there.” He asked, pointing at one of the benches farther away from the walking path. “No one will hear us there.” You nodded and followed him, sitting down beside him. A few moments passed as the two of you just watched students walk by, neither of you taking the lead to start the conversation.

“Are you okay?” Jeonghan asked after some time, and you turned to look at him dryly.

“I’m…fine. Okay, I guess. Just a bit tired.”

“No…what’s wrong? Did someone say something? Did I hurt you?”

There he went again.

You turned to glare at him but the look of concern on his face was enough to stop you. He looked really worried for you, and even reached out to grab your hand and give it a squeeze. You gulped to stop the way your heart fluttered at his actions, reminding yourself of what you had to ask him.

“Why…why did you lie to me?” You asked, swallowing thickly once more so that you didn’t sound hurt. But your voice still sounded strangled, and if Jeonghan had noticed it, he didn’t show it.

“Are you talking about the cafe?” He asked gently, and you nodded slowly.

“When I said I would take you out to a new place and mentioned its name too, you didn’t tell me you already went there. The waitress mentioned that you were a regular there!” It almost sounded like you were whining by this point.

Jeonghan blinked at you once, twice and then burst out laughing. “Is that what is bothering you?”

Pulling your hand away from his, you swatted his arm lightly, feeling hurt at his reaction. “It’s not funny! I literally gushed to you about the strawberry sandwich, saying that if you tried it you would forget every other sandwich when you had probably tried it a million times before. Do you know how embarrassing it is? It's so embarrassing that I bragged about something you already knew, it makes me look like a show off.”

“Ah, but I had never actually tried the strawberry sandwich before.” He said, taking your hand in his again. “I really had never tried it before, which is why I didn’t say anything. Besides, you looked so cute when you were talking about the cafe and I really didn’t want you to stop.”

You froze a little, taken aback by his last statement. Quickly, you tried to change the subject, hoping he wouldn’t notice the sudden heat forming on your cheeks.

“I-I- Okay. I-I have a few more questions to ask, if you don’t mind. Or…you can go first about whatever you wanted to talk about.”

“Go ahead. I finished asking mine. I just wanted to know what’s wrong with you.”

“Oh.” So it was the typical Jeonghan-cares-for-you question. “Er, are you and the waitress close? Um, what’s her name? Miyeon?”

“Not that close.” He replied nonchalantly. “She had helped me with some physics homework once, that’s all. And oh, also because I visit the cafe regularly.”

“I think she likes you.”

“Yeah me too.” He smirked when you stared at him. “Jealous?”

“Jealous of whom? You?” You countered back, keeping your expression as neutral as you could. You weren’t, couldn’t be jealous and you weren’t going to show him that you were either. He laughed at your comeback and you felt yourself smile, feeling pleased that he had enjoyed your retort.

“Point. Miyeon is pretty. But just so you know, she had asked me today whether I could hang out with her sometime later.”

“When did this happen? What did you say?” Even though you knew Jeonghan probably said yes, you still wanted to hear the answer from him.

“I said you were my girlfriend, what else? It happened when you had gone to the bathroom and she got the bill to the table. She then even asked why were you sitting beside Seungkwan if you were my girlfriend.”

“And what did you guys say then?”

“Seungkwan said ‘bros before hoes’.”

You rolled your eyes, questioning yourself why you even thought your best friend might have given a smart answer. “Of course he did. Can I ask you one more question?”

“You are asking an awful lot of questions, aren’t you?” He smiled at you, his eyes glinting in a teasing manner.

“It’s the last one! Please, Hannie?”

It was the first time you were using the nickname and you could swear you saw him tense for a fraction of a second. Then it was gone as soon as it had come. Instead, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, indicating you to go. You had almost forgotten that the two of you were still holding hands, and this squeeze seemed to suddenly liven the atmosphere around the two of you, as though reminding you of his presence.

“Do you…find it uncomfortable to be with me?”

His smile faltered, clearly caught off guard by your question.

“I mean, do I make you feel uncomfortable? Like…did you say yes to being my boyfriend just because you didn’t want to refuse me and make me feel bad or-”

“Why would I do that? Shit, do I act like that around you? You aren’t someone new Y/N. You have been my friend for quite some time. Why would I feel uncomfortable around you? And I didn’t say yes because I felt bad for you. We both needed escorts and that’s why I said yes.”

“Then why do you act so differently when you are around me?” You asked, releasing your hand from his grasp. “Like, like you always look like you are enjoying yourself when we are with our friends but whenever it's just the two of us, you act just so sweet and nice. That’s about it. Just- just sweet and nice. Like how you are to Miyeon.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, as though thinking before answering your question.

“It’s not that I don’t like you Y/N. And I definitely didn’t say yes because I thought you were pathetic or something. Really. It’s just that…I don’t know how this works either.”

“How does what work?” You asked, your voice much softer than you expected. Jeonghan leaned in to you a bit closer, and for the first time you saw him beyond the smiles and jokes he made. He looked tired, really tired as though this act was wearing him out too.

“I-I’m not sure what kind of boyfriend you want. I’m not sure whether I should treat you like a friend and crack jokes about the most useless thing or treat you like a princess like your boyfriend probably would. I don’t know how much to step out of the line of being friends. I don’t know what is the line that oversteps from fake boyfriend to real boyfriend. I…just don’t know what to do most of the time.”

This time, you took his hand in yours, giving them a gentle squeeze. He looked up at you and you smiled softly at him, trying to ease down all the pressure he had been feeling for the past few days.

You were such an idiot. How could you expect him to act normally when you had just dumped a huge burden over his shoulder?

“Jeonghan…it’s okay. You are doing great, you know that? And sometimes, when I look at you, I wish I could be more like you. You don’t need to treat me as your girlfriend, really. Like I said, I would never want to make you feel uncomfortable. Just treat me as a friend, okay? And if you ever want to stop, just tell me. I’ll always be there for you.”

He gulped and nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact even once. Your heart gave a painful squeeze when he still didn’t look away, all of a sudden feeling that your entire surrounding had melted away.

You could only feel his soft gaze on you, almost feeling raw and exposed and yet, even you couldn’t look away.

“I would never leave you.” Jeonghan whispered, almost mumbling as he finally tore away his gaze.

“Why? Is this arrangement proving to be useful to you too?” You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah it did help me escape from Miyeon.”

“So I’m your scapegoat now?” You asked scandalously, letting go of your hands so that you could grab him by the shoulder and glare properly. He grinned at you, back to his playful nature. You felt your heart swell by the way he giggled, the infectious laughter causing you to smile too despite trying to sound mad at him.

“Hey, aren’t friends supposed to protect each other like that?”

“Not- not- I- okay whatever!”

“Er, do you see Seungkwan?” You asked Yeri, eyes scanning the crowd for your best friend. The loud noise from the booming speaker was making it almost impossible to hear your roommate, so you turned to her, only to find yourself standing alone in a crowd of drunk bodies. You groaned internally as Yeri was your designated driver today, and you prayed that wherever she went, she wouldn't end up drunk like she had last time.

Byun Baekhyun, a senior known for his loudness and great ambition to wreck chaos wherever he went had decided to throw a party for the first years as a celebration for completing the first term without losing their sanity (which was clearly a lie; you were close to losing your mind).

“How am I supposed to find anyone- Hey! Yuna!” Grabbing the hands of the said girl, you felt familiarity rush in when she turned to you and gave you a smile.

“Hey, Y/N. You look great. Dressed up for someone special?”

“As if. Have you seen Seungkwan anywhere? I just can’t find him.”

At this she snickered. “Seungkwan? Are you sure you are searching for him?”

You frowned at her. When she saw that you didn’t understand what she was indicating, she smiled at you and beckoned you to come closer. “Are you sure,” she whispered in your ear, the slight smell of alcohol wafting to your nose, “you aren’t looking for Jeonghan?”

You drew back from her sharply, all of a sudden feeling hot. How does she know? Does word travel that fast? Of course it does. When Yuna saw that you didn’t say anything, she let out a laugh and patted your shoulder before pointing at the corner.

Giving her a tight lipped smile, you followed the direction of her finger though you weren’t really sure whether she had pointed to Seungkwan or Jeonghan.

“Thank god!” You exhaled, when you saw Seungkwan and Chan sitting on a couch in the corner of the room, and you quickly slipped in between them.

“Thank God for what?” Seungkwan asked.

“Nothing. Yuna’s drunk. Where are the others?” You asked, taking a sip of the solo cup Seungkwan had just handed you. You found it odd that it was just Seungkwan, Chan and you here because usually your entire gang of friends used to stick together to have fun at parties.

“Ah, that.” Chan snickered. “Your boyfriend might or might not have caused a little bit of a problem.”

“What? What happened?” You asked, turning your head to look at Seungkwan and Chan alternatively. To say you weren’t concerned would be a lie. And it was definitely not because Jeonghan was your faux boyfriend.

“Er, so Jeonghan might or might not have got his toy sword and wooden hammer with him to the party-” Seungkwan began.

“He got what?”

“You know, his toy sword-”

“I knew about his toy sword but not his wooden hammer.”

“It's for self defence against bad guys at night, apparently.” Chan added, causing you to groan.

“What happened then?”

“I think someone made some comment about you and he decided as your boyfriend, mind you the entire college knows now, he had to defend your honour. He even gave the opponent his wooden hammer because he wasn’t armed.” Seungkwan finished, calmingly taking a sip of his drink like it was completely natural for Jeonghan to fight for your honour.

You looked at Chan incredulously and he too had the same expression. “He’s joking right?”

“Jeonghan was drunk. Like really, really drunk when it started.”

“How did he get this drunk so quickly?”

“Sweetheart, the party started an hour ago. Not everyone remembers their incomplete inorganic homework five minutes before leaving.” Seungkwan stated, causing you to glare at him.

“So where are the others?”

“Well, the challenge was made just before you came and Jeonghan went upstairs to ‘duel’. Seungcheol, Mingyu, Minghao and Seokmin followed him upstairs to stop him while the rest followed him to egg on him.”

Chan got up, followed by you and Seungkwan. “We were just waiting for you. I bet your lover boy is dying to see your face.”

“Shut up Chan.” Your face was practically burning by now. But this was what you had wanted, right? To make everyone think you both were a couple? “Please tell me we are going upstairs so that both of you can join the team that stops him and not eggs on him?”

Seungkwan gave you a dirty look. “How low do you think we are? Of course we are going to egg him on.”

“Fucking hate you all.”

Luckily, upstairs wasn’t that crowded but it still took the three of you some pushing around to reach the centre. The scene that met your eyes nearly turned you blood cold. The other guy, you recognised him as a senior from your major, had Jeonghan on his knees as he gripped his shirt collar. He was yelling profanities at Jeonghan, but he was too out to even listen to him. You saw that his lip had split open and his right eye looked bruised.

“Why aren't you stopping him?” You hissed to Seungcheol. You noticed that even though all your friends were there, none of them were cheering for the fight to continue. In fact, they all looked scared now

“We can’t. He’s a senior and he said- he said if we stop him then he’s going to hurt Jeonghan more!” Seungcheol himself looked terrified and you gritted your teeth angrily. It was true. If a senior ragged you, there was nothing you could do except accept your fate.

You heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh; loud, and both you and Seungcheol turned to see Jeonghan on the floor, the senior’s hand balled in a fist. At that moment, something snapped inside you and you found yourself walking towards him.

“Y/N, wait-” Seungkwan began worriedly but it was too late. Everything happened so fast but all you vaguely remembered was yanking the senior by hair and landing a slap on his cheeks. Since he was drunk that slap was enough to cause him to lose his balance, and you just shoved him into the ground.

Turning around, you picked up Jeonghan’s sword and hammer before turning to the groaning boy. Gently tugging one arm over your shoulder, you tried pulling him up. It was a bit hard, considering he was drunk and hurt and using you completely as support, but then his weight lightened on you and you turned to see Joshua slinging his other arm around his neck.

“Let me help you.” He muttered. The crowd parted away easily and before you knew it, the three of you were outside. It was a bit hard dragging Jeonghan all the way to the dorm and the only reason you managed to do it was because Joshua was bearing his maximum weight.

Finally, you reached their room and pulled Jeonghan onto his bed. The two of you sat down beside him, trying to catch your breaths. Glancing at Jeonghan’s resting figure, you felt your heart clench painfully.

Moonlight streamed into the room, lighting up his face in an almost angelic glow and yet the blows he had received were painfully visible.

“Thank you.” You heard Joshua mutter, and you looked up at him. He too was looking at Jeonghan sadly, as though he had been punched too. Then he looked at you and gave you a soft smile. “Thank you for stepping up.”

“It’s nothing.” You huffed. “I just did what I had to do for a friend. I’m not blaming you guys though!”

“Still. It was a really brave thing to do. But are you sure about that?”

“About what?”

Joshua leaned in until your faces were just a few inches apart. You tried backing away but the headboard hit you and you were left with no space to move. He smirked at you before speaking.

“Are you sure about Jeonghan being, you know, just a friend?”

You stared at him with your mouth slightly open, slowly thinking of what he had said.

Jeonghan was a friend, right? You had come in terms with him a few days ago and had convinced yourself that he was a friend. You would step into a fight for any of your friends, right?

A groan from beside you interrupted your thoughts and both of you turned to see Jeonghan staring at you with half opened eyes.

“Y/N.” He whispered your name with a small smile, wincing almost immediately when the cut on his lips stung. His eyes travelled along your body before it landed on Joshua. He frowned at the said man, as though trying to comprehend something.

“Joshua.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

He blinked several times before staring at something between the two of you. Then he tried getting up by propping up his elbows which gave away immediately, causing his head to land on your lap instead. You stiffened at the closeness but figured he was too drunk and hurt to even overthink this situation.

“Why are you two always so close? Everytime I’m gone, the two of you are almost always together.” He sounded almost hurt. You tried making sense of what he meant by that but Joshua just laughed.

Getting up, he said, “I’ll leave the two of you alone. If he tries something, call me. I’ll be in my bedroom. Oh also, try thinking about what I told you before.” Giving you a wink, he exited the room, closing the door behind him.

“What did he tell you?” Jeonghan asked, turning on your lap so that he was facing you now. His hair was sticking to his forehead due to the sweat, the jet black colour appearing almost dark blue under the moonlight. You hissed when you saw his wounds up close, gently brushing his hair away from his face.

He caught your wrist as his eyes fluttered open, staring at you before repeating his question. “What did Joshua tell?”

“Nothing, you idiot. Jeonghan, why the hell did you get into a fight? Do you know where you keep your medicines? I’ll get them-”

“No.” His grip on your hand tightened as he brought it over his chest, clasping it with his both hands now. “He made fun of you.”

Maybe it was the way he said it with so much hurt in his voice or maybe it was the way he looked like a prince underneath the moonlight, but you felt your breath catch your throat. Your heart gave a painful squeeze and then stuttered, as you watched his gentle features stare back at you softly.

It felt like time had stopped as you stared at Yoon Jeonghan lying on your lap, realising how beautiful he was. And no, it wasn’t like the other times you had realised it. This time, it felt painful, as though he had sucked out all your breath and had caused your heart to swell with this overwhelming emotion.

It made you feel good, and you felt yourself craving for that feeling more.

“That doesn’t mean you’ll get into a fight with everyone. Look how hurt you are, Hannie.” You whispered softly. To be honest you weren’t sure why you were whispering, but as you gently stroked his hair with your free hand, it felt right talking to him softly.

He let out a harsh breath as he slowly raised on hand towards your face, causing you to freeze. You felt his fingers ghost your lips, and you almost leaned in to feel his touch. You felt your stomach lurch when your eyes met his, that feeling in your heart growing stronger as he refused to touch you yet.

“Love it when you call me that.” His voice had dropped an octave, and you nearly let out a squeak at his sudden sultry voice. Finally, you felt his long slender fingers grasp at your chin and his thumb brushed against your lips, giving you the contact your body was almost burning for. Your eyes fluttered close as he gently ran his thumb over your lips. “Love it so much I would give up ‘most everything to get you to call me that.”

You are drunk. He’s even more drunk. What do you think you are doing?

Your eyes snapped open at that realisation and you jerked away from his touch, his hand just falling limply to his side.

“We are drunk, Han- Jeonghan. We shouldn’t- I shouldn’t be doing this to you.” You told him as softly as you could, gently sliding his head off your lap onto the pillow. He had fallen asleep and now the only sound in the room that could be heard was his breathing; and the abnormally loud hammering of your heart.

Slowly, you covered him with his blanket and kept his toy sword and hammer beside him before you snuck out of his room. Then closing the door behind you, you rested your back against it, taking a moment to catch your breath and calm down your racing heart.

If you weren’t sure about it before, you definitely were now. It was glaringly obvious to you, no matter how much you tried to push your feelings away.

You were in love with Yoon Jeonghan.

It’s fine. You thought to yourself. I just need to pretend I don’t have feelings for him until tomorrow. Once we go about our own ways, I can bawl my eyes out to Seungkwan.

“Miss?” The maid asked cautiously, and you looked at her annoyed, silently asking her to go on. “Your escort, Mr. Yoon, is here.”

Wordlessly you got up, glancing at the mirror one last time to check your gloves and hair. Annoyance creeped into your features when you realised it didn’t even matter actually. Then you walked out of your house, making sure you shut the door behind you with a bang.

Walking out into the garden of your parent’s manor, you saw Jeonghan waiting for you, leaning against the limousine. His face broke into a grin when he saw you approaching, but it faltered when he realised you weren’t exactly smiling back at him.

“Hey.” He said, as he opened the door for you to enter.

“Hi.” You said curtly, bunching up your gown in the most careless manner and getting in the car, shutting the door before he could. He wordlessly got in through the other side, indicating the chauffeur to start.

A few minutes of silence passed before he spoke.

“Is…something wrong?”

You turned to glare at him, expecting him to look annoyed at your annoying attitude. Or even confused. But instead, he looked concerned.

Immediately you felt bad at being angry at him for something he didn’t even do.

No. It wasn’t that you felt bad, it was more like his worried look had thrown you off your anger, feeling tears sting your eyes instead now.

“You can tell me about it. Or you don’t have to. But I’m all ears, anytime you need me.” Gently, he took your hands in his and gave it a squeeze, smiling at you softly.

“I- Just- You look good today.” You choked out, trying to change the subject without looking too pathetic in front of him. How down bad were you for him that one worried glance caused you to break the dam of emotion that had been building up since morning.

But it was true. He did look good. The suit made him look more ethereal, and it did nothing to stop your heart from accelerating at that speed.

His lips pulled into a smile, You noticed that his lips had almost healed, and the cut couldn’t really be seen unless you stared at it (which you definitely weren’t; because why would you stare at him?)

“What can I say? I’m so pretty that I look good at everything.”

“Or I have a great choice of clothing.”

Jeonghan laughed and counter argued, but you were too busy staring at the way he laughed to listen to his banter. The way he displayed his teeth every time he smiled and the way his eyes crinkled at the corner when he laughed seemed to be pulling at your heartstrings. And the fact that he was gently rubbing circles on your hand with his thumb, sending electricity through your arm.

“I could help lighten whatever’s causing a frown on that pretty face of yours.”

His flirty comment brought you back to the present, quickly turning your head away to stare at the buildings speeding past the two of you instead. You felt the bitterness come back but it was much less than before as Jeonghan had helped you feel much light hearted.

“You’ll see once you reach there.” You muttered, and through the corner of your eyes you saw Jeonghan nod. The car came to a halt in front of a mansion, indicating that you had arrived at your destination.

“Y/N this is your last chance.” Jeonghan said. You blinked at him in confusion. “This is your last chance to change your partner to Joshua.”

Suppressing the laughter threatening to escape from you, you pretended to think. “Well…so far it’s still a no. But if I see Shua looks more handsome than you…then well, I can’t guarantee you I’ll be sleeping with you tonight.”

There was a rule of elite parties that required couples to sleep in for the night, which was why you had wanted to choose a familiar face in the first place.

Jeonghan pouted at you and you laughed, but immediately caught yourself when you felt your heart flutter. You couldn’t let this feeling grow. The two of you were just actors in a play and actors could never fall in love with each other.

Two of you walked over to your assigned room and only then did you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. You had met just a few people on your way here and the two of you had responded to all of them with small smiles, and you were greatly aware of Jeonghan’s arm around your waist.

“What do you want to do now?” Jeonghan, already lying down on the double bed. You narrowed your eyes as he kicked off his shoes and wrapped the blanket around himself. “What?” He asked when he saw you. “I’m tired, okay? Just wake me up half an hour before the party starts so that I can look a bit more presentable.”

“Okay? I, uh, I’m just going to look around, okay?” Saying that, you switched off the light for him and slipped out, wondering where you should go next. You vaguely remembered a fountain in one of the gardens from the one time you had come here with your parents and decided to search for it.

It took you some time but eventually (after a lot of checking through balconies whether it was the correct side of the garden) you managed to find it. But as you reached there, you saw someone already seated on its edges. You couldn't make out who it was, so you decided to leave. You stopped on your tracks and took a step back, only to step on a twig.

The twig snapped with a loud thwack! which was heard loud and clear in the silent garden. The boy sitting turned to look at you, his expression changing from shock to happiness as he recognised you.

“Y/N.” Joshua greeted you, patting at the stone beside him. “Come and join me.”

Knowing you were trapped, you had no other option but to go and sit down beside him. Not that you didn’t like his companion but you really didn’t want to lash out your anger at another innocent soul.

“Hi.”

“You look pretty.” Joshua commented, to which you just smiled. The words that he had told you yesterday seemed to ring in your head now. Did he mean this? About your feelings towards Jeonghan?

“Joshua?” You asked, clearing your throat. “Yesterday…what did you mean by that?”

“It’s no fun if I tell you. Did you think about it?” The familiar mischievous glint was back in his eyes.

“I did…a little.”

“Then you know what I’m talking about-”

“I don’t like him.” You cut him off and then upon seeing his amused look, you added, “Not in that way. He’s just a friend who agreed to help me. I don’t have feelings for him at all.”

“Well…everyone can tell you both are perfect for each other. No one even doubts for a second that the two of you aren’t.”

You just sighed, fluttering your eyes close as you let the night breeze calm you down a little. It’s okay. You thought to yourself. Everything will be okay once he isn’t pretending to be your boyfriend anymore. Once he is gone, these feelings would go too.

Yes. That was it. Maybe you were too immersed in your role of pretending and had let your emotions take control of you. Maybe you had thought that pretending to have feelings for him would make this much easier on both of you.

A small part of you kept screaming that lying to yourself won’t change this situation, but that didn’t stop you from saying your next line as you opened your eyes to look at the man sitting next to you with a smile.

“There’s nothing between the two of us. We are just…tryna do what lovers do.”

You remembered how Jeonghan had used you as a scapegoat to turn down Miyeon. Yes, that was the main purpose, wasn’t it? This whole relationship was built on a lie, just meant to be used and thrown for such situations.

“Joshua? Y/N?”

You froze at the familiar voice and judging from Joshua's expression, even he wasn’t expecting it. You turned back to see Jeonghan looking at the two of you. He was smiling but there was something off about it.

Joshua got up and walked up to him, before leaning in to whisper something in Jeonghan’s ear. Then waving you a goodbye, he walked off, leaving you and Jeonghan all alone. Jeonghan came and sat down beside you, though he maintained a little distance.

“Did you- did you overhear our conversation?” You asked, confused at this sudden change in behaviour.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “What’s there to overhear? I already know that. I already know that we are doing this for show.” He spoke curtly and you frowned.

Did you hurt him by any chance? But what you said was the truth, right?

“Are you okay? Did I say something?”

He let out a hollow laugh, before forcing a smile at you. “No, it’s not you. It’s all my fault really. It’s all my fault that this is happening and I’m sorry about it.”

“Jeonghan, you are acting weird.”

“Says the one who wouldn’t explain why she’s been mad the entire evening.”

“It’s my parents, okay?” You snapped, getting up and standing in front of him. He seemed taken aback by this sudden outburst but at this point, you really didn’t care. “They aren’t even coming today! All this drama I went through, all this stupid worry I had in my head at the end of the day meant nothing! I only agreed to come to this party because my parents would have been there but of course they decided to go to Switzerland today itself without telling me!

I wouldn’t have even bothered asking you to be my escort if it weren’t for them. We would have been leading our own lives quietly but now I'm in this mess with you because of this stupid party! It’s so hard to play pretend that sometimes I just wish you would disappear!”

The last line slipped out of your mouth before you had even realised and you only stopped yourself when you saw Jeonghan’s expression.

You had stepped out of the line.

“I- I- Okay, I didn’t mean you to disappear! I mean, not because of that.”

Jeonghan wordlessly got up, his face all of a sudden so cold that you almost could hear your heart break. How could you do this? How could you do this to him? His eyes which usually used to hold a million emotions that you would associate with happiness were now empty as they stared back at you with contempt.

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it almost immediately, as though figuring out it was better to keep quiet than argue with you.

“I see. Well, I’m sorry I made you feel uncomfortable Y/N. I’ll leave for now but don’t worry, I’ll still pretend to be your escort for today. And then you don’t need to hang out with me that much in college. A week later, or wherever you feel like you don’t need me at all, we’ll just break up. Okay? I’m sorry for everything. Like I said, it’s all my fault.”

With that he walked away from you, your attempt to grab his sleeves fruitless.

“Jeonghan, wait! I didn’t mean it like that!” You yelled after him, but he didn’t look back at you even once. “I’m sorry, Jeonghan! I really am!”

You felt tears sliding down your cheeks as the frustration that had been building up finally broke through you.

“Yoon Jeonghan! Do you even remember what happened yesterday?”

At this he stopped and turned back to you. His mouth fell open at your teary face but he didn’t take a single step to approach you.

“I’m asking you! Do you even remember what happened yesterday?”

He looked unsure how to answer that. After a while, he took a gulp and replied a soft ‘no’.

You closed your eyes, feeling the tears continue to flow.

It hurt. It hurt so much that you wished your heart would stop beating. Maybe then, you would stop loving Jeonghan. Maybe then you would be able to move on from this relationship easily.

“What happened? Did I do-”

“Just leave, Hannie. Just leave.”

You saw him wince when you called him that but by now you were too tired to care, opting to sink onto the ground instead of dealing with what was in front of you.

It had been a week. Exactly a week without texts, a week without meeting up with Jeonghan unless it was your entire friend group, a week without holding hands and a week until you finally called him.

You had thought that maybe doing all of this would completely remove him from your head, that it would be much easier to move on by pretending that your feelings were because of being so close to him.

But if anything, your love for Yoon Jeonghan had seemed to grow. He was the only thing in your mind constantly as you thought about his antics and jokes. You missed his smile and the way he would hold your hands gently. You missed everything about Jeonghan but there was nothing you could do about it, especially not after how the two of you had very obviously fucked up your friendship (neither of you had even attended the party after that; the two of you just claimed that you were tired and left).

Not that anyone even noticed. Everyone still thought you two were a couple, and it took all of your willpower not to burst into tears whenever someone mentioned Jeonghan in front of you. Of course, Seungkwan knew. And you were sure Joshua knew too. But apart from that, no one had even questioned why the air seemed so stale whenever the two of you were together.

Which brought you to your present call.

“Hello?” A groggy voice on the other side of the line had you nearly jumping off your bed, as you grabbed the phone delicately near your ear, as though you might have been hearing things.

“Uh, hi. It’s me, Y/N.” Your heart still raced at the sound of his voice and you hoped you didn’t sound as squeaky as a twelve year old talking to their crush for the first time.

A pause.

Then he chuckled. “I know, I can see your caller ID.”

Jeonghan had acted nonchalantly with you in front of everyone, like you hadn't just hurt his feelings by asking him to disappear. But you had thought that maybe he would be different when the two of you were alone, cold and distant since you had practically thrown his kindness onto his face.

“Hahah, yeah, yeah. Sorry, I forgot.” You muttered, embarrassed at the way you were acting. Your cheeks were feeling hot and you were glad that he couldn’t see you know.

“So what do you want?”

The words were like a slap to you, but you knew very well that you deserved that. That’s what your relationship had boiled down to. Just to fulfil each other’s needs.

“Um, my parents know about us.” You muttered.

“What?” He asked, as though he hadn’t heard you clearly the first time. You could hear the slight rise in his voice.

“My parents…they know about us and…you know how dating is in our world. They think I’m seeing you as a potential life partner for later on.”

“Do you want me to come over?” He asked softly, and something inside you broke.

“I- I- don't know what to do Hannie.” you felt tears stream down your cheeks. “I don't want you to think that I’m using you, not after what I told you. I shouldn’t even be asking you to cover for me anymore. I hate myself for that so much. But I really don’t know what to tell my parents-”

“Hey.” He hushed you. “I’ll be there, okay? When do you want me to come over?”

“Can you- can you come over for lunch?”

“I’ll be there for sometime before lunch then. Just wait a little, okay?”

True to his word, Jeonghan showed up to your house half an hour before lunch time. The minute your maids had informed you that he was here, you had rushed downstairs to pull him into your bedroom without your parents noticing.

Locking the door behind you, you leaned your back against it to catch your breath. Your eyes flicked up to meet his worried ones, and you felt the familiar warmth rush back to your chest.

“Jeonghan I-” You began but stopped when he held your hand that was clutching his sleeves. You thought he was trying to remove it but instead clasped it in his both hands. The huge apology that you had prepared in your head vanished, and all you could was stare at him with tears pricking your eyes once more.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” You whispered, your voice almost broken. Finding yourself alone with him for the first time after the incident seemed to have done something to you. All you could think of was getting him back. “I’m so sorry for all the things I told you.”

He stared at you for a few seconds, before dropping his eyes to your entwined hands. “It’s fine. It’s my fault you felt like that-”

“I wanted you to disappear because everytime I’m with you, I feel like I’m failing to just pretend you are my boyfriend.” You cut him off, taking a step closer to him. Your toes were now brushing each other’s and he looked up at you confused, as though he could not believe what he had just heard.

Taking a deep breath, you continued. “I know- I know that you might hate me after this because I’m- because I’m just misusing your goodness. But I’m in love with you Hannie. I like you so much that it drove me crazy trying to keep things the way it was between us. I had hoped maybe that after our fight I would forget you but instead I kept wanting you more. And I hated the fact that I hurt you. I hated-”

“Shh.” He whispered, taking both of your hands in his. He jerked you closer to him, until your noses were just a few inches apart. You were so close to him that you could smell the cologne lingering on him and see the black flecks in his soft brown eyes. His warm gaze was turning your knees to putty and you grasped his hand more tightly to steady yourself. “Don’t- Don’t ever say that, okay? Because I love you so much I can’t bear to see you crumbling like this, hating yourself for something that wasn’t even your fault. I love you so much that it’s okay if you don’t want me if I’m hurting you or making you uncomfortable.”

Taking a deep breath in harshly, you blinked at him as you tried to clear your brain.

Jeonghan…loved you too. He loved you.

When you didn’t say anything, Jeonghan covered the little distance between the two of you by pressing his lips against yours. You felt yourself melt into his touch, hands now clutching his biceps to steady yourself.

He pushed you against the door to press against your body better, his hands squeezing your hips gently. Jeonghan’s lips were soft against yours, kissing you feverishly as though you might disappear if he stopped to even catch his breath.

You felt all rational thoughts leave your body when your teeth accidentally grazed against his lower lip, causing him to groan in your mouth. One hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face to get better access to your lips.

His frantic kisses moved towards your ears, starting from the corner of your lip, to your cheek and finally to the soft skin right below your ear.

“Hannie.” You whispered softly, gripping his hair tightly as he sucked on the soft skin, kissing, biting and licking the same spot. You realised that the only thing supporting your jelly legs was the door and his grip on your waist, but you couldn’t even tell him to stop because of the euphoric feeling in your heart.

God, you loved him so, so much.

You tugged at his hair gently, causing him to stop doing what he was doing to look at you, and you threw your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug. He didn’t even falter for a second and immediately wrapped his arm around you, engulfing you in his warmth.

“I love it when you call me Hannie.” He whispered, kissing your ear softly. You felt yourself smile, giving him a squeeze as you felt your heart might explode out of happiness.

“And I love you.”

Pulling away from him, you mirrored his smile, his soft gaze making you feel giddy like always. “But Hannie..” You began, and he cut you off with a quick kiss on your lips.

“Hmmm?”

“I had really wanted to dance with you that day.”

“Is that so?” He hummed, his eyes shining with the familiar devilish glint. “Then should we dance after I tell your parents you are officially my girlfriend?”

A/N: Please do tell me what you think about this story!! I worked really hard on it and I would love to know everyone’s thoughts on it~ Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

688 notes · View notes