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thoughtsfromlayla · 27 days

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Dreamweaver's Heart

Summary: The Dream Lord takes fascination to a new lucid dreamer in his realm, his Dreamweaver. The waking world is less than kind and he will travel dimensions to make sure you are safe.

Notes: ~8.6k, this was a request sent in by Anon based on this post! Otherwise, I'm sorry for having this fic take such a dark turn? It was supposed to be sweet but then in my search for more Tom Sturridge films, I came across Like Minds and it fucked with me. So now it fucks with my writing until further notice.

Warnings: Don't ever get attached to the characters I make for the plot, graphic descriptions of gore, death, murder, and drowning, betrayal of a friend, nonconsensual kissing (not from Dream), graphic serial killer activities, run in with a serial killer. Dream's a dream tho, a knight in black armor <3 Happy ending :D

I'm not going to say it's 18+, because it's not NSFW, but some of these themes can be disturbing. Please read the tags carefully.

Masterlist

“One, two, three, four, five, okay,” You count your right-hand fingers to yourself. Then cast your eyes on the watch you always carried on your wrist.

“8:13,” You take another look at your surroundings and take in the fresh air and kind sun. “AM,” you concluded.

You look back to your fingers and count again. “One, two, three, four, five,” You listed off in your head. Then one more time look at your watch. This time it read 5:15 PM, but the sun hadn’t moved. A grin crawls up to your face as you realize that you were dreaming. Lucid dreaming to be more specific.

When you first heard about lucid dreaming in some off-handed news article you rolled your eyes and went on with your morning. There wasn’t much time in your life to worry about those things, not when another project was due, you had another meeting to attend, or another email to look at. But then life got unbearably hard to live with, stress kept piling up, and your vacation hours kept being declined.

Your dreams turned from weird but forgettable dreams to nightmares of being chased, drowned, or murdered, only for you to both feel and witness again and again. When you wake up in a sweat at the ungodly midnight hours, you open your phone to find the news article again. It took you well over a month to get the hang of lucid dreaming but it was all worth the cognitive effort. Each time you go to sleep you count your fingers, then your clock, then your fingers, and then your clock again. There are always telltale signs that you were dreaming, dreams tend to never make sense so you look for those things.

You intake another fresh breath of air and smile, head tilted towards the sun. The city air was polluted with car fumes and sewage smells, and while you loved the city, you do miss the easier days back in the countryside. You imagine the lush meadows, old trees, and the house that your grandfather hand-built for him and his wife. Before you the scenery changes and you’re sitting on a hand-carved rocking chair in a thin shirt and shorts.

“This is the life,” You groan out to yourself as you begin the rock back and forth, thighs and arms trembling from a stretch. You stay like that for god knows how long, the waking world not a priority of your thoughts as you had the next day off.

You only get up when sweat begins to collect along your hairline and the sunhat you are wearing begins to become itchy. A farm dog comes up to you and pants at your side urging you to go inside the house, maybe for a cup of lemonade, which sounded delicious the more you thought about it.

When you look into the house from the windowed front door, a black figure briefly catches your eyes. It walks within the kitchen, running a finger across the worn wooden table and tracing lines of chipped paint over the tops of chairs. Confusion eclipses your face as his figure distorts on the thick glass and you open the door quickly.

Much to your surprise, there was no such figure when the door opened. Your heart beats inside your chest and you look down at your fingers again. One, two, three, four, five… six. Six fingers, which is odd. You exhale slowly, it’s just a dream you say to yourself and carry on.

While sitting at the kitchen table you pinch your index and thumb together then bring both hands until they meet the other’s fingers. You pull them apart and a delicate golden string connects the fingers together. With a calming inhale of breath you move your fingers purposefully, drawing a picture of lemonade with a glass cup. If only it were this easy in the waking world.

Lemonade appears on the kitchen table in a glass pitcher and you pour yourself a cup, chugging down the citrusy-sweet drink with a smile. You sit for a while, not particularly thinking of anything, your job had you doing enough of that. The kitchen window was open and you could feel the summer wind and hear the leaves rustling and mourning doves cooing. It was a scene straight out of your childhood, and if you concentrated enough you could hear the lawn mower going in the distance, the smell of freshly cut grass invading the house.

A bark interrupts your serenity and you look over to the farm dog. He’s patiently sitting by his food bowl with a wagging tail. A small box of dog food appears on a nearby shelf and you go to him with a smile.

“Are you hungry, boy?” You ask and reach for the kibble. He barks back in return and watches you intently as you pour a small serving. You then thought to yourself that, well, this is a dream and can dogs get diabetes in dreams? Probably not, so you dump the rest of the kibble into his bowl. It piled higher and higher and you can see a satisfied glint in the dog’s eyes as it begins to chow down on its food.

You wipe your hands off on your shorts and toss the empty box into some unknown void in the hallway and go back to the kitchen. This time, however, two glasses were accompanying the pitcher. One, the glass you just drank out of, and the other, a half-drunk glass of lemonade. The condensation of the cool drink was still on the glass and you could see a clear handprint of where someone had grabbed it.

You look back at the dog and notice that he is missing and panic sets in again. You look outside the window and the sun disappears, clouds rolling in with a sheet of rain. The ground around you starts to become wet despite the intact roof and it floods over your feet. The water fills up the space quickly.

You try to calm your breathing and will the water to go away, for the sun to come back, anything to have your hours of peace before you have to wake up. But, nothing worked and the water came over your hips, and you’re hyperventilating now. The rain comes in through the windows in large gushes of water and you find yourself stuck in place, unable to move.

“Wake up, wake up!” You chant to yourself, tears beading along your lower lash line. You pinch at yourself and are exasperated when you still don’t wake. The water felt too real, it was cold and piercing and you could feel the twigs and leaves of debris that brushed against your legs now and then. “This isn’t funny, wake up!” You cry to yourself again as the water rises higher.

Behind you, in the shadows, the Dream Lord watches with intent. He always had a fascination with lucid dreamers, after all, they were able to minorly manipulate dreams to their whim. Something that the Dream King wouldn’t admit hurt his ego a little bit… just a smudge. But he had been watching your dreams lately and found it fascinating that you never dreamed of anything grand. No mystical adventure, no aspirations, and certainly no dreams of a more… sexual nature. Which, if he was allowed to comment, may be the reason why you were so stressed in the waking world and needed to find peace in his instead.

“This dream is over,” He commands and waves his hand over the scene.

You wake with a start, the sweat you produced while sleeping made your shirt stick to you uncomfortably and reminded you of your dream. You’re quick to get rid of it and throw it into your laundry hamper, now topless and rushing to the bathroom for a cold shower to calm you down. When you were done, your weekend alarm still hadn’t gone off and you were tempted to go back to sleep again.

Eventually, you decided against it, unless you wanted to repeat what just happened. Purposeful, dreamless sleep hasn’t found you in a long time and you doubt it would come back just on a whim. You watch the sunrise in your apartment, sighing as sleep tugs at your body still. The cup of hot coffee in your hands felt more like decoration than anything useful as it didn’t give you the energy you craved.

Thankfully you had nothing to do on your day off and you pat your past self on the back for going grocery shopping last night instead of making you do it today. You spend the rest of the day in bed, reading books on your Kindle and taking breaks by mindlessly scrolling through different forms of social media. Sleep tugs on your eyes but no matter how much you try to sleep, even a nap escapes you.

The day goes by at a molasses-like pace, you don’t even remember eating. But once the sun has set and the stars made their debut, you happily resign as sleep overcomes you. The Kindle falls somewhere off your bed as you lose consciousness. When you come to your dreams, you’re greeted by a whale… in a tutu.

Your laughter is hard to contain at the sight as you watched it dance on its fins to Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, part of your favorite ballet to watch when you were younger. It splashes some water on you and you use your hands to cover your face. It’s then that you remember to count your fingers.

“One, two, three, four, five,” All five fingers. What time was it? You repeat the ritual that has been so ingrained in your head and when you notice that you only have four fingers on your second count, you know then that you have control over the dream.

“Thank you for your entertainment tonight, my friend,” You wave goodbye to it as the scenery changes around you.

You’re back out in nature. A low-hanging tree greets you instead and a white and red checkered blanket is laid before it. The blanket had a mighty spread of slices of bread, jams, cheeses, meats, and tea. You make your way over and sit on the soft blanket, slowly picking the foods to taste. The atmosphere was perfect and the wind blew the smell of fresh water into your nose from the nearby pond. Ducks and geese honk at each other in greeting as they swim by.

Deeper in the picnic basket was more food, but you found them in pairs. Two sandwiches, two teacups, and two dessert cakes. You quizzically stare at them as you hold the two sandwiches, one in each hand. You didn’t eat that much, did you?

“I see that you have started without me,” A voice comments.

You jump in your skin at the sudden intrusion and look up. You see a man, dressed in casual black with an impressive coat.

“Isn’t it a bit too warm to wear such a long coat?” You ask instead.

You don’t protest when he sits next to you and hand him a sandwich instead. He places the wrapped food gently on the ground before taking off his jacket.

“Better?” He asks as he goes to grab his sandwich again.

“Hmm,” You only hum in agreement and start to unwrap your own. It’s a few minutes of silent chewing before you realize how weird this is. “Wait, who are you?”

“No one you haven’t met before,” He answers vaguely. His sandwich was left untouched except for the bread which he threw at the ducks near the pond.

You chew slowly as you try to digest his answer. He pours you a cup of tea which you drink freely from, murmuring a thanks as he hands you the fine china. The smell of vanilla and peaches invades your senses as you sip on the sweet tea. The favor takes you by surprise at how wonderfully it paired with the sandwich. By the end of the picnic, you have learned two things, your mystery man was great company, and that carbs made you comatose.

“Oh, my god. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much food in one sitting,” You sigh happily as you lay down on the blanket. Your head hits the hard ground and an idea sparks in you.

Once again you pinch your fingers together and then bring your hands together. You intertwine and loop the golden strings that emit from your movements, much like an old childhood game of yours, Cat’s Cradle, and produce a small pillow.

You place the pillow down and give it a good smack before laying down again. The sun envelopes you in a kind warmth that makes you smile. You see dancing shadows behind your eyelids when you close them to enjoy the moment.

You hear rustling beside you and turn your head towards the man lying down beside you. He really was quite beautiful, something more than a man, perhaps a deity. He is lost in thought, almost, as he thinks about your abilities, but he keeps his thoughts to himself.

“You have a great side profile, you know?” You don’t know why you said that, but rarely in dreams do you know why anything happens.

Your comment makes him chuckle, a sound that you wish to hear again. It was light-hearted and pure, something that you wouldn’t expect to hear from someone who looked like him. You couldn’t help but laugh along, finding his happiness contagious.

“Thank you,” He says when he is done laughing.

When the giggles leave your body, you go back to relaxing and soon you doze off. The rest of the dream is peaceful and pure, no more nightmares to haunt you tonight. The Dream Lord looks at you fondly as the wind blows some of your hair astray, happy to assist you for once in his realm. As long as he is here, you won’t have to fight your demons on your own again.

The next morning was the first time in a long time that you felt energized. The old coffee pot is nearly forgotten as you get ready to go on a morning walk, something you have done in a long while. Afterward, a shower, and then lunch with an old friend you haven’t seen in months. He had decided to drop by after his work allowed him to come into the city.

You meet with Oliver at a local cafe and you order tea this time around, along with some soup and a side salad. The AC is on full blast as more and more people come into the small building. You were lucky to find Oliver already waiting for you at a small table by the large windows. He waves at you when you come close enough and then pushes his glasses back into place.

“How have you been, Poppet?” He starts right off the bat with a smile, using the same nickname he’s been using since grade 3. That smile brings you back all the way to your younger days when you first met him as your new neighbor.

You think briefly about possibly mentioning your horrid dreams to him but decide to skip it, seeing as you didn’t want to ruin the mood for today, not to mention the peaceful dream you had last night all but almost made you forget it in its entirety.

“Oh, you know me, running around like a chicken with its head cut off.” You joke with a self-deprecating laugh. Your comment makes you realize that you have to go to work the next day and deal with annoying clients all over again. “Same shit, different day,” You mutter in conclusion.

Both of your foods arrive just in time for you to ignore the glare he sent your way. Instead, you find fascination in the soup you choose, the same soup you had for the past three years of your life.

“What brings you into town?” You ask as you pick apart the complimentary bread.

“Work, of course. Though I never thought it would bring me to this place.” He gestures to the city around him.

Oliver works as a farm veterinarian so, rarely, does he come into a large city where each piece of green is covered in concrete or chewed gum. And, of course, there are no farm animals around. He goes on to talk about a conference that he was invited to, something to do with the fight on farm animal antibiotics. You only nod along as you ate your lunch, your talents lie elsewhere but don't want to seem rude.

Only scraps of your meal are left when the two decide that it is time to depart ways.

“How long are you staying in the city?” You ask outside the cafe. The weather was almost perfect today, save for the slightly chilling wind that came every now and then.

“About a week.” Oliver puts on his jacket and then pushes his round glasses back in place.

“A week, huh?” You thought out loud before a smile came to your face. “You should come by the exhibit later this week. My client is showcasing their art, and going together would be fun.”

“I’ll be there.” Oliver takes the business card you hand him, the heavy paper turns from warm white to gray as the sun disappears behind some clouds.

Rain begins to drizzle and splatter on the card.

“Aw, man. What?” You complain and put your jacket over your head as the rain continues to fall. “There wasn’t a rain forecast today,” You grumble to yourself.

The two of you step under the cafe awning, the thin fabric providing little protection.

“Do you want to stay at my place until the rain lets up? It’s just a few blocks from here.” You offer.

“Lead the way, Poppet,” Oliver says with a smile.

You smile back as you hype yourself to run through the rain. Thank god you wore sensible shoes today. With a squeal, you run in the direction of your apartment. You hear Oliver laughing behind you as he follows closely behind. Your laughter and giggles continue when you two find the comfort of your apartment and quickly turn up the thermostat when you get inside.

“Wow, you’ve decorated the place nicely,” Oliver whistles his approval.

He kindly sets his dripping jacket on the coat rack before you do the same and thank him. He shakes his head, much like a dog, you mused, to get rid of the water as his hair splays out from his actions. You, the more sensible one, simply wrung it out over the kitchen sink.

“Yeah, if work can’t destress me why should my own home be?” You nodded along.

The storm had raged harder ever since you got inside, the rain pelting on the window. If you didn’t have company over, you would’ve tossed all chores to the side and huddled up for a nap. Sleeping has been wonderful ever since you figured out lucid dreaming.

“Poppet, you got a remote for this giant T.V, or what?” Oliver says as he pokes his hands between couch cushions.

“Erm, yeah, somewhere on the T.V. stand.” Your comment was absent minded as you poke around in your small pantry for some snacks.

Your eyes lock on packets of hot chocolate you didn’t know you had and what could be more perfect than a rainy day and hot chocolate with a friend? You squint at the box, looking for the expiration date. When you find it, and see that it’s been expired since last christmas, you pretend you don’t.

There’s probably enough preservative to make the powdered drink last until the end of days, right? Plus who is throwing out food like this? In this economy? You scoff to yourself.

“Want hot chocolate?” You ask, peeking at Oliver’s form in the living room.

He stands in front of the T.V., hip slightly popped out to support himself with a hand on his hip and the other on the remote. The news comes on instead of your usual menu of different streaming services and a confused look takes over Oliver’s face when he turns around.

“No, not that remote, the other one,” You laughed and went ahead to the fridge to warm up some milk anyway.

“Which remote, you have, like, 13 for no reason!” He cries out exasperated but goes to the stand to find the correct remote.

The news continues to play and with nothing better to do, you listen in while you wait for your milk to warm up.

“There has been a recent murder here in our lovely city and we encourage citizens to remain vigilant. The killer has not yet been caught and there is no pattern as to what kind of victims they take.” The news anchor speaks.

“Oh, shit.” Oliver stops his search as he, too, starts listening in to the news.

“Welcome to the city, I guess,” You shrug with a defeated sigh. The milk starts to shimmer before you turn off the stove.

“Still, you should stay safe,” Oliver comments as he finally finds the correct remote, turning in to a streaming service and picking a light hearted movie. You’re mixing the chocolate powder, spoon clinking against the non-matching mugs, and when you don’t answer right away, Oliver presses again. “You will be safe, right?”

“Yes, mom,” You sarcastically groan. “I’ll be safe.”

“That’s my Poppet,” He chides, some of his accent slipping through, and sits down. He opens an arm for you to sit next to him before you hand him the hot chocolate that you made.

“Careful, it’s ho-”

“JESUS!” Oliver exclaims as his face flies away from the mug. His shocked face makes your own burst out into laughter, so much so that you have to set down your mug so that you don’t spill it all over yourself.

“Are you laughing at my pain?” Oliver jokes and pokes your sides.

The ticklish action only makes you laugh harder, if that was at all possible. Seeing your reaction, Oliver goes to poke you again, and you defend weakly as your laughing makes you all but weak.

“Sto-stop, you’re going to make me pee,” You choke out between fits of giggles. Your hands were clenched to your sides as a last ditch effort to conceal your weak points. Your cheeks were starting to hurt and your smile was so wide that you couldn’t even open your eyes anymore. You were simply at the mercy of feeling true happiness.

Oliver eventually stops and the T.V. goes into a mandatory ad break (I mean, you’re not going to pay for no ads after already paying for the streaming service, let’s be real). Your energy is sapped out of you and you deflate into the couch with a satisfied sigh.

“That was the first time tonight I heard you laugh that hard. Has the city been that mean to you?” Oliver asks, now cautiously sipping his drink.

“The city is not mean, it’s just different than home,” You reply with a roll of your eyes. “I wouldn’t change it for anything though.”

Oliver hums in response, whipped cream stuck on his upper lips. You could tell he wanted to say more but decided to keep quiet instead. Eventually, the two of you fell into a comfortable and familiar silence as you watched the rest of the movie.

You ended up crying at a particular scene and Oliver, same old Oliver, poked at you again to try and get you laughing. The rain still hasn't stopped and you’re glad to live on a higher floor of the apartment complex or else you would’ve had to worry about potential flooding.

At the end of the day, you ended up cooking dinner for the two of you as well, convincing Oliver to stay and have a warm meal before going home alone. Especially considering the news about the killer on the loose. You’re on your third movie when the two of you finally finish your late dinner and you fall asleep on the couch against Oliver’s much warmer body.

The body underneath you shifts and your eyes snap open.

“Sorry, Oliver, didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” You apologize before you’re completely awake.

“It is nothing of note,” Someone else’s voice responds instead.

You rub your eyes and take a closer look at him and are surprisingly greeted by your mystery man. He wears the same clothes as the last time you met, only this time it’s warranted as you feel the chilling wind brush against your prickling skin. Unconsciously you crawl closer to him again and he wraps a protective arm around your body.

Looking around at your surroundings you notice that the two of you were huddled amongst the clouds. Stars and nebulas dance around the two of you in sparkling wonder. When you reach out your hand to touch a star and find it surprising when you are greeted with a cold feeling. Your hand snaps back quickly and you tuck it under your arms to quickly warm up.

“Guess I’m dreaming again,” You comment nonchalantly and lean back. The clouds seem to know where to stop and you’re lying comfortably by the man’s side again.

“Ever the perceptive one,” He responds back.

“I didn’t know I could dream of something this… spectacular,” You think to yourself, taking the risk to rest your head on his shoulders. Besides momentarily stiffening under your touch, he doesn’t move away, something you took as a good sign.

“You did not, I did,” He says slowly.

“Hmm, it’s nice, thank you.” You close your eyes and enjoy his warmth.

Besides you, the Endless smiles to himself at your compliment. To him, it was nothing more than the wave of his hand to gift you this dream. He would be lying to himself if he were to say he hasn’t been waiting for you to cross over to the Dreaming since your last dream. His fascination for your abilities grows stronger yet.

Yet, he has created a beautiful enough dream that you didn’t find the need to change anything, something he takes pride in. Your waking world has left you tired and weary, and he is here to provide. A tugging sensation pulls at him and he remembers why he is here.

“My Dreamweaver, I have something to tell you. You must listen carefully.” His words were calculated when he spoke. “You are in danger, be cautious.”

“What?”

“This dream is over.”

You wake up in your bed with a dry mouth and a pounding headache. When you roll over to look at the glowing digital clock, it reads 3:00 AM. With a groan, you leave your warm bed to tread the treacherous cold apartment for a glass of water.

You fill up a small cup with some water and notice that by your sink is a small note, scribbled in red crayon. Your tired eyebrows shoot up at the note and grimace at the atrocious handwriting that was undoubtedly Oliver’s.

“Poppet, I can’t find your pens but I found this crayon by the TV remotes Don’t worry I called a cab I won’t get murdered tonight cause I’m vigilant unlike some people Mwah, Oliver”

That night, your mystery man didn’t visit you again. He only leaves his vague message that echoes in the empty chambers of your heads. You’re plagued with dreams of drowning and despite all you can do to take control of the nightmare, there is nothing you can do but subject yourself to the violent, crashing waves. To constantly inhale gallons of gallons of salty water, to feel your muscles tired out, to feel yourself lose control.

Your only salvation throughout the week was seeing Oliver again at the art exhibit. The murders haven’t stopped and it’s gotten enough traction for everyone in the office to talk about it, too. Yet, you could turn to your dreams instead to find relief.

The man clad in black follows you still into your dreams, any mention of his message is quickly shut down or ignored completely. At the end of the day, you don’t mind, his company is more than enough to make your dreams sweet. He accompanies you through wildflower fields and stardust skies, he brushes your hair by the seashore and tells you the myths of old. Each day is a new dream and brings forth a reason to keep going.

“A few nights ago,” He starts as he watches you gently touch the petals of a flower made of snow and glass. You turn to him expectantly and urge him to continue silently. “You did not call for me when you were having that nightmare.”

It takes a few moments for you to realize he was talking about your drowning nightmare. The one you so “wonderfully” had after an amazing time in the swirling cosmos. You begin to walk again, your shoes making no noise against the cold snow. The man follows beside you, face tilted towards yours in anticipation. His question had been burning at the back of his mind since it happened and he held on, barely, for the answer.

“You can’t really scream when you’re drowning.” Your lousy excuse comes out and even you flinch at the words.

You don’t dare to look at him, knowing the disappointed look he was surely giving you. Everyone knows that anything is possible when you dream, even more when you can lucid dream. After a very pregnant pause you give you real reason.

“I don’t know your name, how would I call out for you, my sweet mystery man.”

It’s now that he stops walking and after a few steps, you too pause and turn to look at him. In the cold mountains of your dream, the snow is stark in contrast to his ebony form. It is here that you recognize how different he was, like the snow pulls away from any distractions and you look at him, really look at him. The facade of just a man falls away, and within, you see a being beyond your comprehension, held together by sheer will. You were right, he was more than mortal, more than a god, something more in every sense.

“I am Dream of the Endless,” He says, voice slow, calculated and raspy as he closes the gap between the two of you. “I am the very dream you are in, the voice inside your head, the person you think you’ve met before while walking the street.”

You’re very aware of how close he was to you now, to see the precipitation of his breath, and the way his eyes are never truly one color. His form keeps the winter chill away from your body, warming the very spot you stood in where snow turns into sunlight and the ground beneath you turns to soft valley grass and wildflowers made of toffee candy and sour rope candy.

“Would you really have come if I called for you?” You ask timidly, head turned down and away from his gaze.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You say with a smile, cheeks crinkling your eyes as you look at him again. All Dream could think about was making a sun that shines as brightly as you.

Your dreams seem to start leaping out into your waking life as the words of the Endless follow you. Every now and then you would notice a flurry of black and alabaster skin in the peripheral of your vision, but when you go to look it’s nothing but a chair, or a stack of books. His familiar face haunts you when you space out on the bus ride home, or when you’re simply walking down the street and someone bumps into you that just barely looks like him.

Each time you shake your head no, it was impossible, he was only a dream.

The night before the exhibit, Oliver gives you a text message that explains that he would need to be picked up from another location. A client had called him for an at-home euthanasia early in the morning right before the exhibit. You agreed and were sent an address. You brush your teeth and wash your face before turning into bed, sleep coming easily.

Your dream starts, as always, with you counting your fingers. Then you look at your watch, and then you count your fingers again. Your clock had 5 hands instead of two and with control over the dream, you find yourself standing in an Asian inspired pergola surrounded by water for miles around. The only sounds that accompany you are the sound of the sloshing water and the wind’s percussion between the mountain cracks.

You sit on the wooden flooring, cooled by the water, and inhale the scent of fresh water. You bring your fingers together, just like always, and watch as the golden strings move with your movement, producing a pouch of fish food. Large koi fish swim beneath you and you run a finger across the water’s surface and watch with a small smile as they chase your fingers as you sprinkle some of the golden kibble along the water's surface. A koi leaps up and bites your finger and the sharp pain flings your arm away from the water.

“Ow, what the hell?” You frown and look at your finger, the pouch dispersing into gold dust. Pressing into the digit allows blood to leak from the wound. You don’t have time to think about it when your alarm blares at you and you wake.

Your day starts in a rush, slamming your hand over the off button of the alarm clock. You skiddy your way into your bathroom, brushing your teeth, combing your hair and doing your makeup. Your outfit was ready on the door of your bedroom. The casual formal wear was perfect for the day ahead. Comfortable but respectable and easily spotted if someone were to come looking for you.

You look at your watch before briskly walking out the door, a few minutes ahead of schedule and traffic. When you arrive at the house Oliver had told you to, you stand outside the door as you hear murmuring from inside the door. You remember why Oliver was here in the first place and slowly lean against the wall to wait for him.

“He was the most perfect dog, he was loved, he was cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease his suffering so he may continue to run in the never ending fields of the afterlife.” Oliver’s voice carries through the thin wall.

Sobbing follows after and hushes of comfort as the dog passes in the arms of the owner. Uncomfortable that you were involuntarily eavesdropping in such a private conversation you start to play with your hands, picking at the nails and the cuticles around them. It’s now that you see, with a quickening heartbeat, a closed over wound on your finger. When you run your thumb over it, the pain long since subdued, you are reminded of a feisty koi bite from a certain dream.

Was it real then? The dream, or merely the pain?

“Ah, Poppet, you’re here already,” Oliver’s whisper pulls you out of your thoughts slowly. “Is your finger hurt?” He notices and reaches for your hand.

“No,” You say quickly, perhaps too quickly, and move your hands away. “It’s just a scratch. Shall we go?” You turn before you give him a chance to answer.

The exhibit, while productive, was blanketed over by a feeling of grief and melancholy. Your artist was soaking in the praises of success, but you find yourself sticking by Oliver’s side, drinking mimosas hoping the little alcohol could erase the uneasiness in your throat. Your finger gives phantom pains now and then, reminding you of the breaking cracks between dreams and real life.

It’s only noon and you’re exhausted, giving the keys to Oliver to drive you back to your place. As if to taunt you even more, the elevator was down for repairs and so arm in arm, you and Oliver make your way up the seven sets of stairs until you reach your own apartment.

“Oh my God, I can taste blood,” You whine, leaning all of your weight onto Oliver by the fifth floor. He, on the other hand, could not have looked more pristine.

“When was the last time you exercised?” He chuckles as he lets you rest for a moment.

You groan as your hand grasps onto the worn metal railing. “I briskly walked to my car this morning,” Your voice is gravelly and hoarse as you use your arm to continue upwards. “After the elevator ride down to the main floor.”

“Good grief, woman,” He jests. “We need to get you to the gym.”

“Over my dead body,” You huff as you make your way again, steps heavy and stomping, the sound echoing in the empty chamber.

The barren of your door gave you the last bit of energy to finish. The sight of your couch was enough for you to flop onto it and simply wish to perish. You’re breathing heavily out of your mouth, face to the ceiling and bounce when Oliver sits down next to you with exaggeration.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Oliver teases, barely winded by the seven flights of stairs. You on the other hand felt like you had just come from a week at sea with nothing but a row boat and canned crackers.

“I’m going to go shower, do you want to stay for lunch?” You ask, already halfway to your room after you caught your breath.

“No, I’ve got my own thing to do, packing mostly.” You hear Oliver’s voice from the bathroom. You turn on the water to let it warm up and peek out of your bedroom. “Alright, I’ll see you off in a few days, yeah?”

Oliver’s outside your door and the sudden proximity makes you jump in your skin.

“Geez, you scared me. I thought you were still in the kitchen,” You say behind a small laugh.

“I’m going to head out, alright? But yeah, let’s meet one more time before I leave later this week.” Oliver smiles and pokes your forehead.

“Sounds good,” You agree, staring at the finger.

“Stay safe out there, Poppet.” He waves and goes for the door. “I’ve got a cab waiting for me downstairs.”

You use the shower to cleanse yourself of not only the physical properties of today, and more importantly the sweat you accumulated walking up the steps, but also the more emotional toil. The warm water seemingly soaking up all of your depressive thoughts. It runs down the water and out the drain, and you feel lighter when you step out.

You’re drying your hair with your towel when you see the brown square that is Oliver’s wallet sitting on your couch - opening it and seeing his ID card clarifies it. You groan as you know that he can’t get anywhere without his wallet, especially if he wants to leave.

An internal debate was settled with going to his place before you pick something up for dinner. You place the wallet by your keys near the front door and make yourself some lunch, and put some much needed laundry into the washer while it cooks. You watch a small episode while you eat before returning to your work laptop and answering emails.

The day goes by quickly and the rumbling of your stomach tells you that it’s time for dinner and more importantly, returning Oliver’s wallet. You redress in the same clothes you wore earlier that day, deciding to just deal with the high heels as any other shoe wouldn’t tie in well with your outfit, and you were not going to go out looking anything less than put together.

How lucky you were when you walked down the hall to find the elevator back in operation. Down, down you went, seven flights of stairs to the parking garage. The echoing beep of your car tells you where Oliver had parked for you and you climb in.

Traffic was a pain in the ass and you couldn't take another slow minute during dinner rush. Beeps and honks accompany you all the way to Oliver’s home and it takes a solid 45 minutes to travel 10 miles. You knock on Oliver’s door and you don’t know why but you’re nervous. There wasn’t an answer and you knocked again. Nothing. The door is unlocked and with a shrug to yourself you enter.

All of the lights were turned off when you entered, fumbling about to turn on the lobby light near the door. The rented home was much bigger than your medium apartment and you seriously start to regret your career choice.

“Oliver?” You call out, taking off your shoes and putting them aside.

No answer.

“Ollieeee…” You sing out as you make your way further into the house. You drop the wallet on the dining room table and still nothing. You knew he was here, somewhere, the rental car he had was still in the driveway when you pulled up.

You bring out your phone, about to call him, when a small noise directs you to a staircase that leads downstairs and you make your way into the finished basement. When you open the door, something you never thought you would see greets you instead. Yes, Oliver was there but so was another woman. She’s tied down to a wooden table and you think you’re interrupting something if it wasn’t for the way her teary eyes snap towards you. Despair is washed out with a small glint of hope as her trembling hand reaches for you.

“Help me,” She pleads.

Oliver calls your name, almost breathlessly, and walks closer to you. In his hand holds a small knife, blood already smeared on the glinting metal. He greets you with a smile, but your attention is on the woman on the table.

“Please.” She sobs again.

You’re numb, on the brink of hyperventilation, and you’re sure that if you had gotten dinner before coming here you would’ve thrown up all over the vinyl flooring.

“Oliver,” You gulp down as you take a step back.

He advances with another step, knife still in hand as the blood drips down onto the floor. He approaches you like a predator to scared prey, and he wouldn’t be wrong. His weaponless hand wraps around your wrist, warm and alive just like all of the other times he has done since you became friends all those years ago.

“Come here.” He guides you closer. “This is our guest, Poppet.” He introduces.

The woman squirms against her restraints and cusses. “Stop calling me Poppet, my name is fucking Alora, let me go!”

Oliver guides you closer and then slinks behind you, using his body to trap you from the exit. From this distance you can see the cuts and bruises Alora endured and you lean away in denial. Bile crawls up from the bottom of your throat begging to be released, it’s acidity painful to swallow. Alora’s tear stains seem permanent as another one follows its path as she watches the two of you lean over her.

“Let.. let her go,” You say with a shaky breath. It’s the opposite of assertive, the opposite of a demand.

Oliver sighs behind you and slams the blade down on the table and both you and Alora flinch at the sudden noise. He laughs behind you, the breath tickling the nape of your neck.

“I thought we could… share her,” He responds. You feel his lips on the junction of your neck and your body trembles again.

“Share… her,” You echo.

This wasn’t real, there was no way this was real. No, you were definitely dreaming, Oliver took you home and then after your shower you fell asleep. He never left his wallet at your place. Oliver heals, he would never…

You look down at your fingers, they’re shaking but still countable. One, two, three, four, five. You look at your watch, and with dread you notice that everything is in its place. One, two, three, four, five. It’s still the right time. One, two, three, four, five.

“A dream, this has to be a dream. A nightmare.” You lie to yourself. Your thumb presses into each of your fingers and to your dismay, there are still five.

You look down at Alora again, her eyes wide and begging and her fingers go to grab at you.

“Ah, ah, none of that.” Oliver notices and pushes her fingers away from the two of you.

His attention turns back to you again. “What do you think of it?” He asks, his hands resting on your hips and to your further disgust inhales your scent.

“What do I think of it?” You echo again except this time it was more harsh, judgemental as it should be.

Oliver scoffs and leaves your side. He walks to the other side of the table, knife back in hand as he points it to Alora’s face.

“Look at Poppet here, notice anything?”

That’s when you look at her, really look at her. At first you didn’t see it, or maybe your mind was simply trying to prevent you from seeing it, but under Oliver’s scrutinizing gaze you notice with teary eyes. Her hair was the same color as yours, so were her eyes, they even mimicked the way yours were shaped. Her lips curled just like yours as they’re upturned in agony.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” You gag, your hand flies to cover your mouth as you dry heave.

“No, don’t be, my sweet Poppet,” Oliver comes to you again and holds your face steady. His eyes have always been like they are now, caring, soft, non-dangerous, but seeing his actions made you doubt everything. “Here, you can watch for the first time instead, how about that?”

“Wh-what?” You gape and he pulls away from you. He places the knife over Alora’s throat and her sobbing and pleas grow louder.

“NO!” You scream and go to reach for the knife, unsure where the sudden bravery comes from. But, it’s too late, he slices, you feel the way his muscle moves under your palm, how it grips the blade, how it ticks when it kills.

The blood sprays and decorates you in its red and sticky liquid and you’re left stunned. Beneath you, you hear as Alora chokes on her own blood as her body trashes as a last ditch effort of escape. Oliver looks at you with a smile, his white shirt decorated just like yours. He looks at you with adoration and something like pride as he places the knife down and comes to you again.

“You look even more beautiful in red, Poppet,” He compliments, but it falls on deaf ears. His lips press to yours in a one sided kiss and you weakly push back. “Let me clean everything up and then I’ll take care of you, okay?”

You stand still as you watch him, rag in hand as he begins to clean.

“You were the most perfect person, you were loved, you were cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease your suffering so you may continue to live free in the never ending fields of the afterlife.” Oliver’s familiar eulogy snaps you out of your shock, if not for a brief moment.

It’s enough for you to run out the door, adrenaline blazes down your spine and pumps to all of your limbs. The door almost flies off its hinges as you open it into the dark night. You don’t know where you’re going to go, but anywhere is better than here.

“Poppet! Wait!” Oliver screams behind you and he’s fast to catch you.

Your bare feet scrap across the concrete sidewalk as your vision blurs with salty tears. You trip into an alleyway and sob, your pristine clothes now covered in dirt and blood, and you hear the crack of your watch as it breaks under the fall. At the edges of your mind, a small girl with wild and colorful hair peeks at you in fishnets, the world warps, distorting the difference between reality and delirium.

A moment of clarity comes to you as you remember something. It tries to fall between the crevices of your mind but you grab onto it and hold it close.

“Would you really have come if I called for you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Dream,” You cry out into the darkness. Oliver finds you on the ground and his arms pick you up. “No, no, let go of me!”

The man clad in black doesn’t show his face and you beat yourself over it, because of course he doesn’t. It was just a dream. This is reality. Despite it all, you try one more time. A name falls on your tongue, one you didn’t previously know.

“Morpheus!” You scream and the calling echoes in the suburban neighborhood.

Oliver pays you no mind and hoists you onto his shoulders. You’re pounding at his back but his muscles never falter. He walks back with heaving breaths to his house when he is suddenly stopped and drops you. You unceremoniously roll and then sit quickly to run away again. You’re stopped short at the sight.

In front of Oliver stands a man, his form fuzzy at the sides and blends in to the night around them. He wears a helm made of bones, accompanied by a bright ruby necklace, and a leather pouch of sand.

“Dream?” You question and his gaze turns to you. You can’t see his eyes past the large bug-like design of the helm, but you know he sees you.

“Who the hell are you?” Oliver sneers at him.

Dream doesn’t reply and instead he shrinks back into the shadows and wisps around until he stands in front of you. You hide behind his back as he protects you from Oliver.

“Hey, get away from my Poppet.” Oliver takes a step forward but is stopped by Dream’s words.

“Be quiet,” He commands. It’s two words, but it renders him speechless. “I turn you into prey. Your judgment upon you is to be hunted. Even after you wish for death, you will form into another and be hunted again. This is my gift to you, Oliver Barlowe, make good use of it.”

The curse is etched in stone as he speaks. He pours from his leather pouch and sand falls between his fingers. He curls then unfurls them before blowing the particles into Oliver’s face. You watch with horror as his form shrinks under the swirling sand and he turns into a shrew. He runs into the grass, his brown fur lost amongst the foliage.

“Hello, my Dreamweaver,” He whispers and crouches to your height on the cold concrete. He extends a patient hand and you grab hold. “Come, nightmares shall hunt you no further.”

“You came,” You say, still in disbelief as he helps you stand.

“I kept my promise. I do not break such vows, ever.” His fingers gently wipe away the tears from your face.

"You're real," You whisper, still not believing that he stands before you.

His fingers trace across your bottom lip as he comes closer to you still. Dream doesn't say anything, he simply soaks in your presence, drawn to you in a way neither of you could comprehend. His fingers still trace your face, running over your nose and the apple of your cheekbones.

You feel the swirling of sand around your feet and the world changes around you. You’re in the meadows again, surrounded by flowers made of snow and glass, and you see the cabin your grandfather built. Dream sits you down on a white and red checkered picnic blanket with two glasses of lemonade.

“Will you stay?” You ask as you grab the cool glass cup of lemonade. Your gaze turns to the sweet yellow drink and you rub the smooth glass as a way of calming yourself.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You smile.

Alsooooo, very inappropriate use of being a veterinarian, we don't kill people and we don't make that much money, sigh

My Sandman comics came and they're so heavy... Second also, Comic Dream is such a mood

Maybe a more lighthearted fic for next time, hmm?

♡ Yours, Layla

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader

169 notes · View notes

mingirn · 22 days

Text

only lovers alive

song mingi x reader

synopsis: you return back home after graduating college to a new relationship you have to navigate with your childhood best friend

warnings: smut, a lot of mentions of sexual acts, drinking, insecurities, jealousy, dirty talk, phone sex, sort of (very brief) exhibitionism, gender neutral reader

word count: 20,3k

notes: hello. i’ve had this sitting in my drafts for 1-2 years and saw a tweet that said ”i’d pick you up from the airport in every universe” and decided to let this out of jail bc of that. although the fic itself is inspired by this song. fic title comes from this song. i’m gonna schedule this to post while i’m asleep because i’m terrified to post after not being on here for such a long time. please be gentle with me >:(

It’s dark outside your window, but the streets are lit up by countless glimmering lights. Even though the day is turning into night, there’s still plenty of traffic. Beaming headlights join the streams of light from street lamps, and it’s just your apartment that is missing a glow from a lamp on its windowsill. You’ve got all yours packed up and sent away already, and you’re taking in the city for the last time.

”Are you going to miss it?” Mingis's voice is soft on the other end of the phone. You’ve got him on speaker, lying right next to you.

”I guess, yeah. It’s been nice, even though I haven’t spent much time exploring or enjoying the city.”

It’s true. You’ve just finished your last semester and finally graduated after moving hours away from your hometown to go to your dream school. It feels like eons since then, when you had to say tearful goodbyes to your friends and family and settle down in a cramped little dorm room. You’d been lucky enough to get student housing in your last year, a bigger place where you’d been living for the past two semesters. This city wasn’t just a stark difference to your hometown, it was the definition of complete and total opposite.

The town you grew up in was the type to hide, not really forgotten, just barely there. Small and tucked away between long stretches of forests and fields. You’d be blessed to live there your whole life, yet lucky to get away. You’d go home to visit during summer break and just bask in how simple life was back home, but beyond all, how it was still home to all the things you held most dear. Top of that list: Mingi.

”You’ll always be able to go back, maybe we can go during the summer and you can take me to that Chinese place you’ve talked so much about,” Mingi says. He’s starting to sound a little sleepy, and it’s a reminder that you should probably get to sleep soon. You’ve got an early flight to catch, then it’s just a span of a few hours separating you and Mingi. He’ll be coming to pick you up, so you suppose you better let him go too so he can get some sleep.

”You know I’d love that,” you smile, and slump down on your bed. ”I think we should head to bed though, maybe we should leave this future talk for some other time.”

He hums in agreement, and the line goes quiet for a minute. You can hear his breathing through the speaker, slow and steady. When you close your eyes it’s almost like he’s here.

”Hey, uh,” he begins, and he swallows audibly. ”Do you think it’s gonna be weird?”

Ah, there it is. You’ve almost been waiting, expecting, him to ask it.

”No, I don’t… It’s not like we haven’t seen each other since I moved away. We’ve spent almost all of the last three summers together, right?” you reason. It’s not really what Mingi is referring to, but you have to start somewhere. Soften him up, reassure him.

”Well yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just different because we weren’t doing those things then, and now it’s… well, different.”

”Mingi,” you say with firmness in your voice. ”It would only be different if you said and did all those things just because it was over the phone. If you didn’t mean any of it.”

Mingi takes another moment of silence, and you can imagine that he’s probably chewing nervously on his bottom lip. It makes you a bit nervous as well, the fact that you can’t see him. You’d always been so good at reading his face and figuring out what he was thinking. You need that more than ever now, the ability to read him, because so much has changed.

”I’ve meant every word I’ve ever said,” he says, and something about the words feels so heavy and serious, and he seems to realize it too. ”I really, really want to fuck you, not just over the phone.”

Mingis voice is normal when he says it, not a hint of underlying desire or desperation, but the words themselves send a flash of warmth through your body. It’s become regular at this point, this shift in your friendship. The first time you guys crossed over that invisible line had been under the influence of alcohol, you had come home drunk from the bar after celebrating good test results with some friends and Mingi had been celebrating getting a new job with your mutual friends back at home. It just sort of happened, you dialing his number and gushing about how much you missed him. The conversation went on for half an hour when you started trying to undress from your bar clothes and Mingi had asked what you were doing. He’d asked about what you were wearing, and what color your underwear was, then he informed you that he was just in his boxers, and for some reason you found yourself telling him about how sexually frustrated you had been lately in hopes that he’d offer help. And he did.

That first night it was quick and needy, neither of you initiated it, it just happened in perfect symbiosis. You checked the call log the day after and saw that you guys had been on the phone for hours, the last of which you had both eventually fallen asleep on call until your phone battery died. Tentatively, you had called him during the afternoon and asked him if he had any recollection of yesterday night's events. His voice had been raspy and breathy, throat raw from drinking and moaning, and you can still remember every inflection in the tone of his voice when he asked if you had liked it. That had been the start of it all, of an almost full year of phone sex, sexting, and swapping pictures.

”I’m glad to hear that,” you say, trying to sound just as casual even though you can feel butterflies swirl through your stomach. ”I really can’t wait, Mingi. Can’t wait to fuck you and can’t wait to see you, I’ve missed you so much.”

”I’ve missed you too… Get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow at the airport, just look for a handsome tall guy!”

You fall asleep with Mingis laugh ringing in your ears.

The next day, your plane lands at a far emptier airport than the one you’d set off from. It’s early in the day and the sun is high in the sky, occasionally passing behind weak and thin clouds. The air is so different out here than in the big city. The sounds are clearer, the people are kinder, and everything feels so much more simple here.

You sit on a hard airport bench and wait as your phone connects to the internet after having been turned off, seeing all your missed messages coming in. You’re just about to type up a response to Mingis ’You there?’ when a call from him pops up on the screen.

”Yeah, I’m here!” you chirp into the phone.

”’Here’ where? I’m just walking around and-”

”Mingi, you idiot, turn around!” you call out loud enough for him to hear it on the phone and in person, though he’s quite a distance away from you. You could recognize the back of his head anywhere, even though it’s short and bleached blond right now, it’s undeniably Mingi.

He spins around and spots you right away, making eye contact with you across the big, open space. Seeing Mingi in person for the first time in months washes away all nervosity, all the same as it stirs up a new sense of anticipation. You jump to your feet and you're both rushing towards each other, crashing together in a tight hug.

You find yourself closing your eyes, tucking your head into his chest, and inhaling his scent until it makes you lightheaded. He smells just like your Mingi, that same cologne he’s worn since he was 15, the same laundry detergent, and he smells faintly of sunscreen. It’s not the first time you’ve hugged him, not by a long shot, but it feels like the first time you’ve held him like this. Your arms around his middle, taking note of how big he feels in your hold, and you’re thinking about every little detail you’ve missed out on by being away from him. His warmth, his touch, his size, his voice.

”Hi there,” he murmurs, and his voice is so different up close. It’s deeper and darker, it reverberates through his chest. ”Was the flight okay?”

Something about the conversation he’s initiating makes you feel like now is the appropriate time to pull away, and that in turn has you questioning how appropriate that hug had been on your part. Mingi, however, feels cool as ice when he grabs hold of your bag and slings his arm around your shoulder to guide you out of the airport.

”Uh,” you begin, feeling a bit stumped. You continue, ”It was as good as you can expect, but the food sucked, I can’t wait to get home and eat my mom's cooking.”

”Tired of ramen and takeout?” he asks, chuckling.

”You could say that.”

You try to move on past your own weirdness. Mingi is normal and there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be as well. Still, there’s a sort of buzz igniting under your skin from being in Mingi's presence again. You suppose it’s always like that, this initial excitement of seeing each other again and getting to update each other on all the things you’ve been up to while knowing you’ve got all the time in the world to hang out. But there’s this nagging voice at the back of your head that is frantically going through all the conversations you’ve had with Mingi on the phone. Late at night, underneath your covers, with Mingi moaning and speaking filth on the speaker. It doesn’t match up with the Mingi in front of you, the Mingi that has been your closest friend for years, and it makes you feel electric.

Mingi pops his trunk open and you load your bags into his car, then get inside and start the half-hour drive back to your hometown.

You only dare to steal little glances over at him. Watching him in the rearview mirror, seeing the sun set his brown eyes ablaze and paint his skin golden. His fingers strum along to the song on the radio on the steering wheel, he’s wearing a single ring on his right hand and his skin is already tanned even though summer has just begun. It’s almost like you’re meeting him all over again with the way you’re soaking in every inch of him, yet it’s forcefully clear to you that none of this is new. Perhaps that would have made it easier if he had just been a stranger where the slate was clean, but this is Mingi and there are things you’re both gonna need to navigate.

You’d foolishly expected that he’d lean in and steal at least a kiss but perhaps more right away, when you were still parked at the airport. More accurately, you had hoped so. It’s all you guys had been talking about for the past months, all the ways you’d want to ravage each other when you finally were face to face again. Apparently, Mingi thinks that can wait.

So you turn your head away, try not to look over at him or imagine his hand holding your thigh instead of the steering wheel. Instead, you focus your attention on the trees outside, and Talking Heads on the radio.

”Do you still like this song?” Mingi asks you. He takes a turn, and this is where the road gets lonesome and there’s more nature than buildings. The song playing is ’This Must be the Place’, and you know Mingi is asking because you’d been the one that bought him this CD for his birthday.

”I could never outgrow Talking Heads, you know that,” you smile at him. You’re starting to settle in now. The fields and the trees are so familiar, the air smells like your childhood, and Mingi is humming along to music you’ve listened to for years. You can do this, it’s not going to be weird, it’s still your best friend Mingi.

The ride back home starts to fill up with idle chatter. You’d think that you’d have run out of topics to talk about by now, seeing as you’d talk on the phone almost every day, but you still find new things to bring up. He parks his car in the driveway outside your house and helps you carry your luggage, all while giggling and joking with you.

It’s only been a year since you’ve been home, you hadn’t been able to come during Christmas, but that’s the longest stretch of time you’ve spent away from this very house. Not much has changed, your parents have kept your room exactly like you had left it, but something just feels different. It feels smaller, or you feel bigger. You catch a glimpse of Mingi in your doorway as you start unpacking your bags and for a second your abdomen flutters when you notice just how much of the door opening he can shield with his body. He has filled out a lot, and this shouldn’t be a surprise because you’d noticed it plenty of times before when you came home to visit. You suppose it’s not a surprise, but it’s the first time you’ve felt appreciation for it.

Of course, you had fantasized about his body since you entered his whole thing, and he had sent a lot of pictures that had helped you out with that, but seeing it in person is an entirely new ordeal. You feel your face heat up as your mind flicks through memories of pictures he’s sent you of himself naked, knowing what he looks like underneath his clothes. You have to wonder if Mingis mind is running in the same circles, if he’s as hyperaware of your skin as you are of his, and how he’s able to contain himself as well as he does if that’s the case. You hardly can’t.

”So,” Mingi begins. Your stomach lurches and plunges every time he pauses between words, fearing what may come next. Maybe this is when he breaks your heart and tells you he can’t do what you’ve been speaking about, that it’s just not the same when you’re face to face. You try to seem unbothered by your racing thoughts and decide to hear him out first. He continues, ”Uh, what now? Do you need any more help?”

”No, I’m all good, Mingi,” You’re rifling through clothes and belongings, lining them up on your bed. You can physically feel him behind you in your room as if he’s radiating this electricity and warmth that has your skin tingling.

”Maybe I should get going then. You know, to let you settle in.” You can hear him shift his weight between his feet. It suddenly feels unbearably awkward and strained between you two, and you know that if you keep your back to him it will only get worse. You need to face this head-on, cut through the tension, or at least pretend like the heavy atmosphere isn’t weighing you down.

You don’t want to let Mingi leave like this, without either one of you addressing things. If he leaves like this, with things unspoken and forgotten, the next time you see him it will be like nothing has ever happened. He’ll be right next to you but somehow further away than ever.

You guess you shouldn’t have expected to jump each other's bones the second you saw each other. Maybe that was unrealistic, but it had just felt that way on the phone. You suppose this is more natural, maybe you just have to stick it out until you’re used to being in the same room.

This Mingi in front of you is an entire world different than the one you’d grown up with. Despite the fact that everything is the same, that he’s in your childhood room and the sun is shining through the window just the same. The beam of light illuminates him directly, making his tan skin radiate.

You’re admiring him when he steps forward and closes the distance between you. Only the birds are singing outside your window, but in the total silence of your room, you can hear Mingi suck in a shaky breath before he leans forward and kisses you.

Time stills, the earth feels like it’s tilting or tipping, as if the very makeup of the universe is now irreversibly changed. Mingis mouth is warm and gentle but he’s keeping a pressure that has your mind whirling, just the way he’s kissing you with so much intent. You’re both breathing heavily and the air escaping his nose is so sweet that you can’t stop yourself from inhaling as much as possible, dizzying yourself to consume every bit of him that you can.

He’s already close, but he shuffles even nearer without breaking apart from the kiss. You can now feel his body against yours and Mingi moves his hands up to hold each side of your head, keeping you in place as he kisses and licks into your mouth. For some reason you’re so very present inside your head, thinking about each little detail of the way he kisses, reminding yourself to remember this moment forever.

You can feel when he starts to pull away so you chase after him, deepening the kiss for another second before he parts from it entirely. He’s just as breathless as you are, and there’s something in Mingi's eyes that you’ve never seen before. He focuses on your lips and leans in for another kiss that ends a moment too quickly.

Mingis hand ruffles your hair up, and his voice is laced with a laugh when he says a drawn-out ’bye’ and leaves your room.

You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, can hear the blood pumping and wooshing from it all the way through your body, throughout each delicate vein in your ears. Your lips are tingling when you reach up to touch them, almost in disbelief at the fact that Mingi had just been kissing you right there. Your mouth is slick with his spit, and your finger moves cardinally to gather it up and plunge into your mouth so you can savor it.

You fall down on the bed, staring up at your ceiling, and close your eyes to relive the kiss as you imagine what it will be like the next time you see Mingi.

Almost a full week passes until you see him again. Your family practically swarms you for the first few days, your parents being overjoyed to have you back invite your grandparents to welcome you home and your favorite aunt comes to see you with your two young cousins. You get unpacked quickly enough, when you manage to find time between family visits and long drawn-out meals, and before you know it five days have passed. Mingi stays busy too though, he sends a few occasional texts about work and though he lives right across from you, you never even catch a glimpse of him.

Sometimes you lay in your bed at night and feel your heart race up at the thought that there is only a few yards of grass and asphalt road between the two of you. It’s a massive change from the last three years when you had been miles and miles apart. Now, it feels almost like you can sense him. Just across the street, breathing and shuffling in bed. You can picture him so well, long eyelashes resting against his cheekbone, his skin flushed from sleep, his long limbs tangled up in a thin blanket. Your hand slips inside your underwear with a hot fire fueled by embarrassment and insecurity burning in your stomach.

Your imagination moves between recollections of words he’s spoken and pictures he’s sent, to the image of him in his bed right now. He’s so very close, but so very unaware of how much that precise fact affects you. Each day away from him only tightens the strings in your body and you grow more frustrated that you haven’t actualized any of the promises you’d made on the phone. At the same time, you find yourself quietly thankful for the imposed distance. Mingi isn’t even here, but he still has such an impact on you that it has you rushedly getting yourself off with your face buried in your pillow to keep quiet.

You’re so deeply affected by all this, while Mingi is fine. You’re the one busy, but when Mingi comes home from work and has some downtime he doesn’t even text to see if you can spend time. Seemingly, he doesn’t care to find out when you can see each other again.

On day six you’re sitting in your garden with your mom and aunt. Your cousins are playing in the grass in front of you and calling for your attention. The sun is high and hot in the sky, and Mingis car has been home for a few hours. You’ve checked your phone multiple times to make sure it’s not on silent, or if you’ve somehow missed a text from him, but it’s been quiet all day.

Then, a car pulls up to Mingi's house. You recognize it in an instant, it’s Yunhos old Camaro that he had inherited from his dad when he got his license, the same car he’d posted a thousand pictures of on social media. He had even let you drive it for an entire block two summers ago. The paint job has sparkles of blue in it that glimmer in the sun, and you somehow feel like it’s taunting you. The front door of Mingis house opens and he emerges in a pair of short shorts and a t-shirt that he has cut the sleeves off of, and he’s got a pair of sunglasses sitting on his face. A feeling worse than rejection rushes through you when Yunho rolls down the window and waves to you, finally prompting Mingi to also notice you sitting there.

Mingi raises his hand to wave but the movement is cut shorter than Yunho's enthusiastic full-bodied gesture. Mingi gets in the car and the engine roars as Yunho drives away. The warm air feels bittersweet when it’s filled by the smell of exhaust fumes.

That night you’re lying in bed and you’re inching close to sleep when your room lights up for a second. In the haze of sleep, you assume it to be the headlights of a car, but it happens again until the stream of light persists entirely and you finally get up to look outside your window. It’s clear instantly where it’s coming from because Mingi is hanging halfway out his window with a flashlight in his hand.

Though he’s quite a distance away, you can see him well enough to tell that he’s shirtless and his hair is messy, but your focus is pulled from that to trying to decode what gesture he’s making with his hand. You shrug, and he disappears from his window for a few seconds before he pops back with his phone and starts pointing to it.

You search for your phone and open it to find 4 missed calls from Mingi. His contact picture pops up on your phone and you hurry to answer.

”What the fuck, Mingi?” you whisper into your phone.

”Were you sleeping?” he chuckles, and you can see his shoulders shake with laughter. Every little bit of this makes you want to hang up, or scream, or march right over to his house and have a go at him. How dare he go days without speaking to you, then call you up in the middle of the night and laugh as if you haven’t been in agony this past week? How dare he kiss you breathless in this very room and make no attempts at reliving it?

”No, I was just about to fall asleep!” you huff.

”Why are you whispering?” Mingi asks.

”Because my parents are asleep, dumbass.”

”Hm,” he ponders. ”So that would be a no if I asked you to sneak out and come over?”

You hope he doesn’t hear your breath hitch at the thought that he wants you to come over in the middle of the night.

”Of course, it’s a no! My mom is already peeved because of Yunho coming by earlier today. She hates how loud that car is. She’s gonna think you’re a bad influence, riding around in that and making me sneak out.”

”Imagine her reaction when she finds out you drove that car before you got your license, and I wasn’t even there. It was all Yunho,” Mingi jokes.

”Shut up! God, my mom has been warning me about him for years. She used to be convinced I was going to end up with him and it was her biggest nightmare,” you say. Your window is cracked to let in some air now that it’s cooler outside. The night is quiet, and all you can hear is Mingi breathing at the other end of the call. It’s quiet for a moment, and you can see that Mingis face is scrunched up.

”You and Yunho?” he scoffs. ”Why would she think that?”

”I don’t know, it’s not like she had any reason to. She’s just weird like that, you know how my mom is.”

It’s silent yet again, Mingi just sighing.

Your stomach does a somersault when a thought strikes you and you have to ask, ”You’re not jealous, are you?”

”Jealous? Of- of Yunho?” Mingi laughs breathlessly. You just hum, and you can’t take your eyes off of him where he’s sitting in his window. Mingi sucks in a deep breath and regains his voice, ”I have no reason to be jealous of him when I’m the one with your nudes in my phone.”

Something about that makes you curl up on yourself, suddenly feeling very shy that you’re only in your underwear and a thin old tank top. It brings up another thought that has plagued you. The pictures you’d sent were all meticulously posed and manipulated to be as appealing as possible. It had been your body, yes, but the most perfect version of it possible. Here, in your pajamas with your skin glistening from sweat, hunched over yourself, you hardly think Mingi can find any resemblance between the picture-perfect version and the one in front of his eyes.

”Oh yeah?” you murmur. You can’t let him see you falter, can’t let him call your bluff. You straighten your back and pretend to be more interested in something under your nails. ”You could have a lot more than just pictures, you know.”

Mingi lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a moan and a breath, just audible enough for his phone to pick it up.

”Fuck, look at me,” he says, and you do. You just do.

Mingi stands up, keeping his phone pressed to his ear with one hand while his free hand moves in a long, slow caressing motion down his upper body. It’s your turn to feel jealous now, stupidly jealous of Mingis own hands for getting to touch him. His fingers reach the waistband of his boxers and you nervously stop breathing as you imagine them dipping inside. His hand moves just a bit further down though, where Mingi wraps his entire palm around his dick.

”Can you see that?” he asks. He uses his hand to move his hard cock under the light material of his underwear, making sure to jut his hips out towards the moonlight so you can see every second of his show.

”I can see you, oh my god. Are you out of your mind? Mingi, what if-”

”No one’s around, no one’s gonna see except for you,” he assures you. You lick your lips, thinking back to what Mingis mouth had tasted like.

”You’re crazy,” you whisper to him.

”You make me crazy,” he says with a smirk. ”Would you lift your shirt up for me?”

Your fingers have dug into your thigh without you noticing until now that Mingi is directing attention to your body. There’s so much tension inside your body that your breathing feels labored as if there are coils fastened inside you and everything Mingi says and does tighten up every bit of your internal structure. He has you feeling lightheaded with words alone.

Sensing your hesitance, Mingi speaks again. ”You don’t have to, I just really want to see you.”

The last sentence has you moving without thinking, getting up on your knees on the seat under your window. You take a quick glance around the street and in the windows of nearby neighbors. The whole world is asleep, only you and Mingi are awake.

You use your free hand to pull your tank top as high as possible, exposing your stomach and chest to Mingi who has stopped touching himself and is keeping razor-sharp focus on you.

”You-… Thank you, you’re gorgeous, do I ever tell you that?” Mingi’s voice is low and hushed. Until now he has sounded loud and confident, and if you didn’t know any better you would think that Mingi has gotten shy. He probably didn’t expect you to follow through with his request.

You haven’t spoken in minutes and you’re not sure if you could make any noise without it coming out as a whine, but luckily Mingi speaks up once more.

”Can you get into bed? I’m gonna lay down, please join me, please, would you touch yourself with me?” Mingi pleas. He waits a second for the words to register, for you to spring into action before he does so himself. Part of you wants to stay and keep drinking in the sight of his body, but the expectations of what he’s going to have you doing has you obeying his words.

”I’m in bed now,” your voice is still hushed, and there’s a layer of excitement in it that brings on a wave of embarrassment.

”I am too, I’m gonna- I’m taking my underwear off. It’s been so long, I just need to…” Mingi trails off. His end of the call is muffled, and a little distorted, and you can hear him shuffling to get his boxers off.

”It’s been so long since what?” you ask to clarify.

”Since we last did this, since I last came…” he answers. Fuck.

”Have you not been cumming since we last had phone sex?”

Mingi quiets down for a second before he lets out a breathy laugh.

”Have you?” he asks with a tone in his voice you can’t make out, but it has your cheeks heating up and your entire body running ice cold.

You turn silent now, but it’s clear from how Mingi is laughing under his breath that he doesn’t need an answer from you to know the truth.

”Oh my god. Well, tell me then, how many times have you made yourself cum since our last call?” Mingi asks. He sounds so cocky, so full of himself that you don’t know whether to roll your eyes or shove your hand between your legs and revel in this stupidly hot version of Mingi.

”Maybe two or three times,” you mumble, hoping that he doesn’t catch it.

”Let's just pretend I believe that. What have you been thinking about?”

You whine, feeling your entire body surge with shame and humiliation. Despite all of it, you’ve bunched up your blanket between your legs and without thinking about it you’ve started rutting against it slowly.

”Mingi, please…”

”Tell me.”

”I think about you. I always do. I’ve been thinking about that kiss, and-…” Your thought is interrupted by a sound on the other end of the line, along with Mingis soft hums. ”Mingi, are you jacking off to me telling you I fantasize about you?”

”I’m jacking off to your voice,” he says so matter of fact it knocks the air out of you. He continues, ”The fact that it’s about me only makes it better.”

”Oh my god,” you sigh, closing your eyes and letting your hand move where you need it most. Mingis voice is sweet and gentle as he moans with each stroke, and his phone is so close to his mouth you’re tricked into believing he’s right next to you, breathing and huffing.

”I wish you were here right now,” he says, sort of under his breath, a little quiet. It feels a little secretive when he says it, like when you were younger and he would have you turn your back to him as he did the same. With your backs pressed together, he would tell you all his deepest secrets, and when you’d turn around again you would both pretend like nothing had happened. It’s a memory you have replayed a lot more recently than ever before, just due to how similar it feels to this arrangement you have with Mingi. As long as you aren’t faced with each other, as long as your backs are turned you can do and say whatever you want.

Instead of sulking about it, you force yourself to play along.

”I do too, I need you so bad,” you whisper, and none of it is a lie.

”Need to see you cum for me, fuck, I need you to make me cum,” he moans. It echoes through your entire head, that moan and those words, and it has you rolling onto your back and pulling your underwear down your legs so you can touch yourself properly.

”You’ll make me cum just by saying that, Mingi,” you say, pathetically so. Something about Mingi has you reaching the edge faster than anything else.

”Fuck, me too. Just hearing you say my name is enough to make me cum right now. I’ve never felt this fucking good,” Mingi groans.

”Mingi,” you let out again, out of pure instinct. ”Mingi, please give me permission to cum, I need it, please!”

He does, in a string of words and breathless moans he allows you to cum with him. Your orgasm rolls through your entire body in a blinding flash, and by the time it’s over you can’t gauge if multiple minutes or just a few seconds have passed. Your phone is pressed so tight to your ear that pearls of sweat coat the screen.

”You there?” Mingis voice is raspy, all fucked out.

You come to, clearing your throat, ”I’m here, sorry. Holy shit.”

”What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks. You don’t have time to feel overjoyed or even finish your train of thought (of oh, fuck, it’s finally happening) before Mingi continues, ”Yunho’s throwing this… thing, at his house. There’s gonna be a barbeque, we’re gonna get drinks, and he says it’s going to be chill but you know how he is. It’s gonna end up being a party by the end of the night.”

You’re staring up at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers Mingi helped you set up when you were 15, and the answer is so obvious you don’t have to think about it.

”Yeah, I’ll go with you,” you respond.

”Well… I’ll take you, but maybe we shouldn’t make it too obvious when we’re there. All of our friends will be there, maybe it’s best to lay low?”

You clench your eyes shut. It makes you want to scream so loud it’d pierce your wall and travel across the street and through to his bedroom. A week ago he had been so concerned about things turning weird between you two and you’d written it off as a worry about your friendship, about how things would change after all the words and naked pictures you had exchanged. You hadn’t considered for a second that Mingi would be concerned for his reputation.

”Yeah,” you mutter. ”No, yeah, you’re right.”

”Okay then,” he says, so cheerily that you feel shame wash over you. ”I’ll pick you up tomorrow at five then?”

You hum in response and swap goodbyes before he ends the call and the beeps ring through your ear.

Your sleep that night is weighed down by a worry you can't dispel even after you wake up. You hardly feel rested, and your parent's voices barely register when they speak to you at breakfast. A lot of thoughts linger in your head, unshakeable doubts about whether things with Mingi are really going to be as okay as you had thought when you were in school.

Things had felt so much simpler then, like this steadfast belief that it would be just as it had always been. You had returned every single summer and were able to pick back up your friendship with Mingi with no trouble, despite all the months you had spent apart.

At least you would get to see all your friends again. Summer being in full swing would mean that everyone would be at their happiest, most free, possibly stupid, and risky behavior.

The day passes by sluggishly, you're merely counting down the hours. You try to read a book while lying in the sun in your backyard, but find that the words just flow together. You check your phone and see the half-hour call in your log from yesterday night, you’re just staring at Mingi's name and contact picture. It's just letters and numbers on a screen, but it's also a journal of your entire relationship. You can go back and see every single one, remember where things had started and where things had escalated. It took you weeks to send the first suggestive pictures to each other and they had been modest back then. A picture of your dark silhouette in the mirror, and Mingi replying with a blurry picture of his thighs in the dark of his room.

It's just another reminder that what you've got with Mingi is all contained in this piece of technology you can fit in your hand. Nothing is real or tangible, except for a few minutes of kissing. That's all you've got that counts as something; Mingi kissing you in your childhood bedroom for a few very good minutes before departing and ignoring you for days.

The kiss lives vividly in your head as you shower and get dressed.

You're sitting on your windowsill and watching the clock tick closer to five when the front door of Mingis house opens and he walks outside. He's got a pair of sunglasses on that he lifts off of his nose to peek up at your window, and when he spots you he waves and motions for you to come down.

You float down the stairs and out your door. The air is light and breezy outside despite the way the sun has been beaming down all day. Mingi is dressed in yet another shirt that shows off his arms, the slight tan line from his work t-shirt that he tries to even out is obvious to you up close and you squeeze his arm to tease him for it.

Both of you sit down in his car. The windows are rolled down to let air flow through and Mingi sets the car stereo to a low volume so you can faintly hear Tears for Fears play in the background. The engine hums pleasantly in comparison to Yunhos Camaro when Mingi starts the car. You watch his hands, waiting for him to shift the stick into first gear, but it doesn't happen.

Instead, time moves in both directions, very slowly but all too quickly as he wraps his hand around the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss. Every single thought that has plagued you throughout the day vanishes the second his lips are on yours. It's replaced by the fact that these same lips had moaned your name less than 24 hours ago, that he had sounded so desperate when he told you he wished you were there.

Mingi deepens the kiss this time, letting it go on for longer than last time. When you have to part from it to take a breath Mingi trails his kisses from the corner of your mouth to under your ear. The kisses are chaste, barely there, but every single one leaves your skin tingling.

He doesn't return to your lips, he pulls back and regains his breath and his smile is so cocky when he reverses the car out of the driveway. You can't help but giggle then, and Mingi turns up the volume to let the music blare through the entire car. This is the Mingi you've missed, the one that drives through your neighborhood and ignores all the grouchy people who turn around and stare disgruntedly. He sings along too loudly, straining his voice to hit notes that sound awful even though you know that he's a great singer.

Everything feels as it always has when you pull up to Yunhos house and there are cars parked up and down the street. Mingi parks and as you're unbuckling your belt you see him look in the rearview mirror, grooming his hair and then wiping his mouth to remove your lip balm. It stings for a second but you don't let it persist. You just get out of his car and the two of you walk towards Yunhos backyard.

There is a voice in the back of your head that reminds you of the distance Mingi puts between you, this very conscious measurement that would leave no doubt for all your friends that you're strictly platonic. You push that away too, and make way towards all your old school friends instead. Seonghwa is the first to pull you into a hug, and it's all you need for the bubble to burst on all your worries.

Soon enough you're all laughing, the backyard is quickly filling with people and Yunho is having a hard time keeping up with all the people demanding a burger. The afternoon air smells just like high school, and the cheap alcohol mixed in the punch is just like the one you used to drink back then. The only difference is that everyone looks so much older, and the conversations have switched from homework, crushes, and drama to future plans and jobs.

"So what now?" Seonghwa asks you when a few hours have passed and the sun is setting. It's not getting dark, the sun is just changing from blue to lilac. You turn to him, feeling the way the alcohol has affected your vision, the way it's swimming a bit.

"What now?" you ask.

"I mean, are you back for good? Are you gonna settle down, get a job, do the whole small-town thing?" he jokes, but the question he poses is a valid one.

"Hm," you ponder for a second, looking up at the sky as if an answer is gonna rain down on you. "I guess I don't know. I need to get a job, but I'll give myself the summer to figure it out. It feels like the last one before things truly.. you know.."

"Change," Seonghwa interjects. "Before we truly grow up."

The conversation quiets for a moment before you both burst into laughter.

"Jesus, we always get so somber, don't we?" Seonghwa laughs.

"Remember prom? We went out for some air and you couldn't stop talking about the universe because you looked up at the stars for a second," you say.

"I don't remember that, I just remember Hongjoong going off on me because I teared up and ruined the makeup he spent an hour doing on me," Seonghwa recollects. You could remember that. You also remembered the eyeshadow Hongjoong had smeared across Mingis's eyelid, the messy dark brown he had lined his eyes with because Mingi refused to stay still for too long.

None of you had brought any dates that night, your entire friend group had decided to just go together and spend the night dancing with each other. When you had gotten a dance with Mingi towards the end of the night his makeup had started running and you had brushed your thumb under his eye. Nothing about that action or the dance, or the night as a whole, had been close to romantic. He had just been Mingi, the same Mingi as always, he walked you home that night with his arm around your shoulder just like he had every day after school.

It's only with the wisdom of hindsight you can identify little actions to speak otherwise. You can't recall what Sans eyes had looked like when you danced with him, but you remember in great detail how the lights had twinkled in Mingi's irises. All you remember from your dance with Wooyoung is that his hands had been too sweaty to hold, but you can go back in your memory to when Mingi had leaned his head on your shoulder and sang along softly to the song that was playing.

"What is it like when you talk to Mingi?" Seonghwa pulls you out of your thoughts. You don't know when your eyes close, but when you open them again the sky is starting to burn a vibrant pink.

"Well... I don't know. It's good. We talk about all sorts of things," you try to sound matter of fact, very casual. Reminding yourself of Mingis words, lay low.

"Yeah, you must," Seonghwa remarks, a chuckle sounding through his voice. It has you turning to him, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

"Meaning?" you question.

"Just that there must be substance to your conversations, seeing as Mingi excuses himself from every night out when you call," he says.

"Yeah," you attempt to brush it off as a meaningless piece of information, but it feels like a lot more. You didn't know Mingi would rush home to talk to you.

Seonghwa hums, and your eyes are pulled to the ground where you've been digging your heel into the grass.

"I guess you guys have always been closer than the rest of us. Living across from each other, being childhood friends, all that," he says. There's no hidden meaning or intention behind his words, you know Seonghwa well enough to deduct that, but it still feels like he's trying to catch you out.

"Yeah," you repeat, absent-mindedly. "Suppose so."

Seonghwas mouth twitches a little as if he wants to say something else, but he keeps it shut. You're thankful, because even if he can read between the lines of your and Mingi's strange relationship, the fact that he doesn't say it out loud serves as reassurance to you. It's the same thin veil that you and Mingi drape yourselves in. Unspoken meaning unchanged.

A friend comes over and offers to top off your and Seonghwas glasses, and you decide to get up on your feet and move on from the sudden gloom that took over.

The music is loud and the air gets chillier as the clouds twist amongst pink and orange. You’re talking to Yunho and telling him the story about your mom's disapproval of his car when he notices your shoulders quiver with the drop in temperature. He fetches one of his flannels for you, helping you thread your arms through and telling you that you need another drink to warm up. Yunho makes you something stronger than the diluted punch, and it goes to your head with haste.

It does warm you up, and it pulls you from reality a little. It’s easier to laugh along with Yunhos jokes this way, without thinking about the tension between you and Mingi. It feels good and safe to just be worriless, to feel the wind in your hair and be surrounded by the sound of your friend's voices mixing together.

Your legs are getting wobblier, but Yunho catches you before you fall and he lets you stay posted against him.

You’re just watching the conversation your friends are having without joining in when you feel two hands on your waist. You don’t have to look back to know that it’s Mingi. The smell of his cologne is familiar enough to alert you.

”I think I better get them home,” Mingis voice is warm and round behind your ear. For a second you feel a little bitter, you kind of want to shake his hands off of you and scoff at him because he’s intervening just when you’re truly starting to enjoy yourself without spending a single thought on him. Is that not what he wanted? You’re keeping the secret, you’re not drawing any eyes towards you two. He’s doing that all on his own.

Had it been three years ago, you think your friends had been protesting your leave. You’re all grown up now though, and everyone is understanding when Mingi wraps his arm around your waist, and you both wave goodbye.

Mingi helps you into his car. Tears for Fears is still playing when he turns the car on and starts driving, and you feel a sort of agitation that you can’t place. He doesn’t speak a single word for a minute or two, and the mood inside the car is unbearable.

”I don’t think anyone could tell,” you say. Mingis face is bare of emotion, and you find yourself with an urge to placate him. ”We did well, don’t you think? I didn’t make anything obvious.”

You don’t know what response you expect to get from Mingi, but there’s a palpable shock within you when he pulls the car over to the side of the road and turns to you.

”What?” you ask. Mingis eyes soften when they flick over your entire body, to then end up at your face.

”Did you really.. worry about that?” Mingi wonders softly.

”Huh? I thought-… Yes, I worried about it, because you did. I mean, you told me we needed to lay low.” You’re starting to get thoroughly confused and frustrated.

”I know, but I didn’t think you’d drink so much and cuddle up to Yunho because of it,” Mingi says, his tone quickly working up to a sharpness you’ve never heard in him before.

”Drink so much?” you gasp. ”I was just having fun! It had nothing to do with you! Not everything is about you, Mingi, or about us. I don’t worry about it as much as you do. Believe it or not.”

”I don’t worry about it,” Mingi sounds accused.

”Clearly you do though. You take me to this party and give me instructions on how to behave, then spend the whole time ignoring me. Just like you did all of last week. Clearly, you have to feel ashamed, or- or…” you trail off, feeling your voice crack. Mingi sucks in a deep breath and leans closer, putting his hand on your knee.

”Please,” he urges, and there’s something in his voice that breaks your heart. ”Please, don’t think I could ever be ashamed of you.”

”Then what, Mingi?” you ask quietly, starting to feel yourself break now. Tears are starting to well up and cloud your vision. You continue, ”Do you just not want me? I get if it’s different when we’re face to face, I know it might not be what you expected, I understand if you don’t find me-”

”Stop it!” Mingi is almost shouting now, startling you. ”It’s nothing like that, you have to believe me. Stop saying these things.”

His hand lifts from your knee to hold your face where he wipes away a tear from your cheek. You don’t know what to say, even though there’s a part of you that wants to keep insisting. Mingi isn’t offering any kind of explanation or even an excuse, he’s not saying anything to quell your worries, and his hands on you are not enough.

”Kiss me. Please,” you whisper. There’s more you want to say, like prove it, prove that you want me. Kiss me and mean it.

”I’m not going to kiss you when you’re drunk and I’m sober,” Mingi says, offering up a solemn smile.

”I’m not though,” you argue. This entire conversation has been sobering. You’re still tipsy, your head feels a little heavy and your vision is still floating but you think you can blame it on your tears as much as you can blame it on alcohol.

”Well, you’re drunk enough that I don’t feel comfortable kissing you.” Mingis thumb strokes over your cheek to comfort you. It’s enough to calm you a little, because that you can take. You don’t think you’d want to kiss him either if the roles had been reversed.

”Okay,” you mutter. ”Are you sure it’s not because you don’t want me?”

Mingi sighs, ”We’ll talk about it tomorrow when you’re not-”

”I’m not drunk, Mingi.”

”Okay, okay. But I still want to do this tomorrow, when we’re both thinking clearly. We’re just misunderstanding each other, and this isn’t how I wanted it to go,” he tells you. He leans forward and kisses the top of your head instead, just above your hairline. It must be calculated on his part, to kiss you where your skin can’t feel the warmth of his lips.

”Okay,” you say again. This time Mingi lets out a little laugh at your dissatisfaction.

He starts the car back up and takes off to go home, leaving his hand on your thigh throughout the drive. When he pulls up to his house and you get out of the car your legs feel like jelly, and you realize you’re probably not as sober as you’d like to believe.

”Mingi?” you ask. He rushes to your side to hold you up, though that’s not what you meant. ”Can I sleep here tonight? You know how my mom is, she’d flip if she saw me-”

”I wasn’t planning on letting you go home like this, don’t worry,” he laughs.

So, with his arm around your waist, Mingi guides you inside and up the stairs to his room. It’s dark and you have to remind yourself to be quiet to not wake Mingi's family. While he leaves the room to fetch another blanket you sit down on his bed and look around his room.

It’s been a while since you’ve been here but not much has changed. You know for a fact that Mingi is still just as entertained by his action figures now as he had been at 13. It makes you laugh to see them all lined up on his shelf, right next to a couple of books that you had gifted him. He had forced his way through a couple of them and called you to complain about every choice the main character made.

You’re comforted by how much of his room remains the same. This is a place where you can remember and picture Mingi. By his big stereo, switching CD’s. Cutting out pictures of his friends to add to his collage wall.

Mingi comes back to his room with a blanket and a pillow that he throws next to you on the bed.

You’re watching his every move. When his eyes land on you he lets out a sound you can only read as disgust.

”Of course he gave you that,” he complains, more to himself than to you.

You can’t help but follow his line of sight though, finding that he’s looking at Yunhos flannel shirt.

”What’s so bad about it?” you wonder. Being under Mingis gaze always fills you with a sort of insecurity that has you twisting and turning.

”It's like, his move. Lending out his shirt. And then letting you lean on him like that..” Mingi mutters.

”Why would Yunho ever pull a move on me?” you ask incredulously.

”For the same reason I would, I assume,” he says. ”You’re really hot.”

A heat rushes to your abdomen and you can’t meet Mingis eyes anymore. Today has left you feeling anything but desired by him, but you don’t think he’s lying right now. He wouldn’t lie about finding you hot just minutes after refusing to kiss you.

”It wouldn’t matter what Yunho thinks of me. Like you said last night, you’re the one who has my nudes. Right?” you say.

Mingi sits down next to you, looking at his hands in his lap instead of at you.

”What if he wanted more than just your nudes?” he asks. This, too, feels like he’s asking himself the question. And you don’t know what to answer.

You don’t think Yunho poses any threat whatsoever, he’s just friendly and flirty by nature. But you let yourself think about what Mingi is implying for a second. What if he - or anyone else - would want more of you than Mingi does? Someone who could offer you a relationship that wouldn’t require secrecy. Someone who would bring you around his friends and hold your hand for everyone to see. Someone who would properly date you and want a relationship, as opposed to dirty phone sex at odd hours of the night.

You realize you’d always pick Mingi above all that, no matter if you had to have him only partially. If he was never yours.

You open your mouth to respond but shut it again when you can’t find the right words.

Mingi looks over at you. He speaks, ”Can’t you take it off?”

”Take it off of me,” you whisper back.

His mouth twitches into a small smile.

”It’d be a lot sexier if I wasn’t taking Yunhos clothes off of you the first time I undress you,” he still sounds displeased, but his hands work the shirt off of you anyways. He discards it to the floor, as far away as it can come.

”These are all mine,” you say, meaning the clothes you have on. ”You can take those off.”

Mingi lets out a drawn-out breath, something to collect himself. His hands pause at the hem of your top even though you’ve already given consent, waiting for you to nod until he starts pulling it over your head.

Silence permeates in Mingis bedroom as he continues undressing you. It’s just the wind rustling his curtains that disrupts the quiet. He guides you to lie down so he can unbutton your shorts to take them off. His hands are so gentle and his touch is soft, when he has finished taking your socks off and all your clothes are on the floor except for your underwear he leans down and presses a sweet kiss right above your knee.

”Take yours off too, please,” you say softly. He’s not quite as delicate with himself, he doesn’t make a show of it. You can’t help but stare though, trying to really commit this to memory since it’s the very first time you’re seeing him strip for you, even if you know it won’t be followed up with all the things you’ve talked about on the phone.

Your eyes flick all over him, down his toned arms and up his torso as he pulls his shirt over his head, across his broad chest. You watch his fingers work the button on his shorts open, revealing his dark underwear. He’s not hard, at least not fully, and it’s strangely intimate to be so close to his dick for the first time but not in a sexual manner. Everything about it makes your heart feel heavy, you’re somehow aware of each pump of it, how it’s speeding up at the mere sight of Mingi.

Mingi, your Mingi, that hasn’t ever been yours. Not really, not properly, but still somehow.

You want him on top of you so bad, to finally feel him in the ways you’ve dreamt about for a full year. Instead, Mingi climbs in bed with you and pulls you close.

He is soft and warm in all the spots your bodies are connected and intertwined. You fall asleep to the sounds of his breath coming out slow and steady.

You wake to a breeze of air over your face. At first, all you can hear is the chirps of birds outside and the distant noise of cars driving around. You don’t need to open your eyes to know that it’s the middle of the day, the sun is bright in that midday way, bright enough that there isn’t a total blackness even when you screw your eyes shut further.

You just turn around and try to escape from it by burying your face into the pillow. The texture of the pillow feels strange and unfamiliar, and the more you come to you realize it also doesn’t smell like your bedding. It smells like Mingi, you realize, and shoot up in a startle.

You don’t have time to wonder why the bed is empty next to you, because you can hear steps on the stairs and seconds later the bedroom door creaks open. Through a squint you can see Mingi in the same state you remember him falling asleep. In just his underwear he walks up to the bed and sets down a glass of water and a plate, before petting his hand over your hair.

”Good morning,” he greets you, smiling big.

”Mm, yeah,” you hum back, still drowsy. It’s far more comfortable to let your eyes close again and just lean into Mingi's affection.

”You okay? Are you hungover?” Mingi asks.

”Yeah, but not from drinking,” you murmur. ”It’s from you yelling at me.”

”I wasn’t yelling!” There’s an undertone to his voice, an actual worry and fear that you’d be feeling a certain way today after last night's conversation.

”I know you weren’t, Mingi. I’m just messing with you, I remember every bit of that conversation,” you assure him. He lets out a sigh of relief, his thumb stroking over your temple.

”That was going to be my next question,” he tells you. ”So you remember the whole night then?”

You nod your head under his hand.

”Do you want to talk about it?” he asks you.

The question stabs at something inside your sternum. Of course, you want to talk, in reality, there are a thousand times you’ve held yourself back from saying to him and there would be nothing more freeing than telling Mingi all of it. There’s just never a time and place for it though and you’ve come to terms that there never will be. It would take astronomical changes to allow you to say what you want. Yes, Mingi, I’m in love with you and probably have been all my life. Mingi, it took us sexting to make me realize you’re the only one I could ever picture myself with.

You had of course let yourself fantasize a couple of times, but the details of any imaginary and hypothetical relationship between you two would quickly obscure, and Mingi was often a perpetrator in that. It would present itself on days when you lived in the afterglow of a nighttime call. You’d walk on clouds with the memories of Mingi moaning your name, then check social media and be greeted with photos of him with his arm around your lifelong friends and strangers you would get nauseous picturing Mingi talking to. Your name wouldn’t even come up in conversation, he’d appear single to them because after all, he was.

So you wouldn’t often entertain the idea of being something more. You’d just treat it as a passing thought, boil it down to what it was, a neuronal connection gone to grief.

You guess you had hoped to see something in Mingi to completely deny these thoughts. Like, a first kiss that you wouldn’t be able to break away from. Or the moment you finally have sex for the first time and it being this out-of-body experience that ends with both of you crying and confessing your love. Like a scene out of a movie.

You could even have survived the opposite. If the first kiss had gone sour and the spark died before it even ignited. At the very least, you would have an answer to all your questions. Instead of being tethered to this middle ground where there’s an undeniable passion and need for each other, but a considerable distance keeping you apart.

Though there were things you’d want to say, there are none you could verbalize.

”I don’t think there’s anything to talk about,” you say, finally. To convince Mingi of this, you open your eyes and roll onto your back so you can look at him. He looks unconvinced, so you continue, ”I think I was just confused and upset. I don’t know why. Maybe because you’ve barely spoken to me since I came back home. I had just… expected more.”

You find yourself surprised that you’re telling the truth. It’s not what you had meant to say, but it’s true and innocent enough. Mingis hand rests on the side of your face, where his fingers fiddle with your hair, and for a second his eyes focus on that, before coming back to yours.

”I don’t have any excuse,” he says. ”I guess I could say that I kept seeing your relatives show up at your house and I thought it’d be rude to whisk you away from all that just to fuck you. But I think the more time passed, the harder it got to..”

”Yeah,” you agree. ”To fuck.”

He smiles at your choice of words and nods.

”Have you not happened to notice I haven’t initiated a single kiss between us, Mingi? I’m nervous too. It’s different in real life. It was much easier on the phone to just do things,” you say.

”Would it make it easier if I told you I’d really like to kiss right now?” Mingi asks.

There won’t ever come a time when the prospect of Mingi wanting to kiss you won’t send a jolt of electricity through each and every vein in your body. Nor will there ever be an instance where you won’t act on that will, especially since it seems that there will be a finite number of them. As you prop yourself up and lean in to kiss Mingi you realize that, along with this being the very first time that you initiate a kiss with him, you’re also one kiss closer to the last kiss you’ll ever have with him.

Because there will be a last time. If you keep going like this there is no other possible outcome, there will simply come a day when Mingis's eyes set on someone else and your arrangement is concluded. There’s not an if, it’s simply a when, and every kiss from now on is going to lead up to that last one. You can’t decide if you should hold out and stave off that last one for as long as you can or fit in as many as possible until then.

All these thoughts disperse when your mouth meets Mingis and he kisses you back. It’s hard to think of anything other than his warm lips or his tongue softly licking against yours. It’s more playful this time compared to the last two, today you’re both feeling each other out and learning what to do, what feels good.

You find yourself out of rhythm at times, the position you’re in is a little awkward, and you fumble through a few kisses to lean closer to Mingi. You feel your stomach swirl when you realize that none of this deters Mingi, that you can in fact feel him smile and breathe out something between a hum and a moan every time you come crashing against his mouth. His big hand comes up to your jaw, long fingers curling around the back of your head to deepen the kiss.

Things get heady so fast with Mingi, he works you up so incredibly quickly, and it’s obvious from the sounds he’s making that he’s just as affected. He doesn’t pull away for a second, his hand keeps your head in place and he continues to clumsily kiss you as he guides you down onto the bed.

The air in Mingi's room is hot from the summer sun shining through his window. It’s not until now you realize that the only thing separating you from Mingis body has been his thin blanket. He starts peeling it away, and it’s then you remember that Mingi had undressed you the night before. A jolt of panic shoots through you now that Mingi can see you, entirely nude except for your underwear, in the warm, bright light of his room. You find comfort in the fact that he’s undressed too, but with Mingis eyes taking you in it’s hard to feel relaxed.

Mingi leans in for a long, passionate kiss, and against your mouth he muffles, ”You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Your head is swimming, Mingi keeps on kissing you, getting softer and more careful as he moves down your neck and continues to lavish you with compliments. So pretty, kiss, gorgeous, kiss, breathtaking, kiss. And if you had any doubts, he squashes every single one when he kisses from your collarbone, over your chest and down your stomach, all the way down to your hips.

He plants his hands on each of your thighs, not grabbing or putting any pressure, but you can still feel the weight of them.

”Is this okay?” he asks quietly. He kisses just above the waistband of your underwear, and at the same time, his hands nudge your legs apart. Your breath catches in your throat and you can only nod and let his hands move your legs to where he wants them.

”What about your family?” you ask him, suddenly realizing the reality of where you are.

”No one’s home. It’s just us,” he says. ”So don’t hold back on me please.”

His shoulders are big and broad between your legs. The sun illuminates him so prettily, his tan skin glows, and every little hair on his body is lit up by the sun. The heat has left a thin layer of sweat on his skin and it highlights his muscles in just the right way. He’s just glowing, near angelic, and you’re moved with the need to worship every part of him.

Mingi is still so tender with all his kisses, there’s no sense of rushing as he takes his time by really letting his lips linger. His mouth trails along your entire thigh, stopping now and then to lightly suck your skin into his mouth and have a taste of you. He only falters when he gets to the junction of your thigh, to where your skin is covered by the fabric of your underwear.

You’ve been short of breath for a while now, but when Mingis fingers dip into the waistline of your underwear you cease to breathe entirely. Your head is rushing, watching as Mingis hands pull your underwear down your legs, leaving you completely naked. You’ve sent him pictures before, he knows what every little inch of your body looks like, but Mingi looks at you as if it’s the very first time.

A thousand thoughts whirl through your head between the seconds your underwear hits the floor to when Mingi springs into action. A thousand worries now culminating, whether he’ll realize that it was better over the phone, if he’s disappointed by what he’s seeing, or if he’s repulsed by how aroused you already are.

”You’re,” Mingi begins, stopping to press a kiss at the seam of your thigh. He adds, ”Beautiful.”

His eyes aren’t even on yours, he’s single-mindedly focused on what’s right in front of him. His breath is fanning across your entire crotch, tickling your inner thighs, and as you feel it get closer and closer you instinctively close your eyes and let your head roll back when Mingi finally puts his mouth where you need it most.

He’s still so gentle, using his tongue and lips to tease you and explore what you like best. It feels like hours pass of Mingi lightly sucking and pressing wet kisses all over you, he’s really and truly taking his time and you have to believe it’s for his own sake because he’s only building up a frustration within you.

”Mingi,” you whine, reaching down to grab hold of his hair. It’s an objectively insane feeling, to have his hair in your hand and head between your legs, after all this time of dreaming of it. It’s enough to have you getting close, even though Mingi is still lapping carefully at you, and it's nowhere close enough to what you crave.

When you start bucking your hips against his mouth it’s like he releases all restrain and just goes for it. His hands wrap around your legs at first, pressing them towards his head, to then wedging underneath your ass so he can get all of you into his mouth.

Mingi moans out ”You taste so good” with a mouthful of you at the same time you tell him how good he is with his mouth, prompting him to smirk against your pelvis. It really doesn’t take long for him to learn what gets you closest to the edge, just where he should put his tongue and where to apply some pressure.

”So good, Mingi, you’re so good. Oh my god,” you sigh. You tug on his hair hard enough for your fingers to cramp, and Mingi only moans against you. Every sound you make seems to spur him on further, Mingi only getting more eager with the way he’s circling his tongue around you.

His tongue is getting you closer and closer, your stomach is splitting in two to hold onto the edge and trying not to cum. You’ve been waiting for this for so long that it feels a shame to cum just minutes after Mingis mouth is on you, but there’s no holding back. His hands grip your hips, pulling you flush to his face, and the second you lift your head to look down at him between your legs you start orgasming in his mouth.

He understands what’s happening before you do, applying enough pressure to get you over the edge before letting up and licking you slower to help you come down. All while he keeps his eyes on yours, letting your fingers scratch his scalp. Mingi listens to every little noise you make and stops the second your heavy breathing turns into an overstimulated hiss.

”Mingi, Mingi,” you whine. His cheeks are flushed a deep pink and his lips are slick with his own spit and your cum, and you can’t stop admiring him. All you can do is pray that Mingi looks into your eyes and mistakes your all-consuming love as the afterglow of a great orgasm.

He pulls himself up enough to crawl on top of you, and though he’s just spent minutes between your legs, this feels a lot more daunting. He hesitates for a moment as if he’s unsure if he’s allowed to kiss you, so you wrap your hands around the back of his head and pull him towards you.

Mingi is breathing heavily from the effort he’s just put forth, and instead of letting him catch his breath you only grow more desperate. Your hands clammer onto his shoulders, pulling him against you, then down to his waist, and finally around his ass so you can pull him against your core. He’s got his underwear on, but you don’t let it stop you as you grind up against him. He’s hard and you’re still wet with spit and cum, it doesn’t take long before you’ve soaked his boxers and the barrier between you both is practically nonexistent. You can feel every bit of him against you.

”Mingi,” you moan into his mouth. ”Fuck me, please.”

He pulls away and sucks in a deep breath.

”Don’t you want me to… uh, prepare you?” He sounds small and insecure. You watch his brows burrow and his eyes flick across your face, and you’re struck by how much he looks like Mingi. Your best friend Mingi, who you’ve built up in your head as a confident sex god, even though you’ve always been aware that he’s more careful and vary than any other person you know.

You suppose you’d just assume that that version of him would disappear in the bedroom, that he’d be the same as he is over the phone when he’s telling you all the different ways he wants to fuck you.

”I’m- I’m embarrassed to say this, but I’m so worked up you could just slide inside me,” you tell him, and Mingi moans in response.

”Are you sure?” he asks. You pick up motion again, sliding yourself against the entire length of his dick.

”I’m not just sure, I’m begging,” you plea. You hook your fingers into his boxers, trying to tug them down even though you know the position you’re in won’t allow you to undress him. You just need him to act, now, you can’t wait any longer.

It happens fast, Mingi pulling his boxers off and getting back on top of you, to then lining up his dick to enter you.

”Fuck, I forgot how big you are,” you mumble. The sight of him in comparison to you, lined up against you, is enough to make you cum untouched.

This is what you’ve been dreaming about for a whole year, this very moment. For Mingi to push inside you, hook your legs over his shoulders and fuck you until you can’t see straight. Actually being here, with the tip of his dick against your hole, it feels much different. It’s not the actual sex you’re looking forward to, it’s the fact that he’s finally going to be inside you. It feels like you’re claiming him, that the moment is finally here and he’s going to be yours.

”Are you okay? Are you ready? Can I-?” Mingi asks, searching your eyes for uncertainty.

”Please,” you nod.

He starts pushing inside, watching his dick slide with ease until he’s got the entire tip in. The stretch feels amazing, you could take all of him in one go but the fact that he stops and leans down to kiss you as he slowly thrusts his entire cock inside is way better. And god, he kisses you as if he’s not currently buried inside you. His lips barely brush against yours, and the kisses are short and sweet. Finally, he pulls back to watch himself bottom out.

The sun is shining on the side of Mingis face, and this is just not at all how you had pictured it. In your fantasies, there had always been a dark bedroom and Mingis body had been on top of yours, only distinguishable by faint lights outside the window. It was quick, rushed, and dirty, maybe Mingis hand would be clamped over your mouth to keep you from making any sounds since it would have to happen at one of your homes. Sometimes you’d imagine it happening in his car, parked somewhere secluded at night, it would be bumpy and awkward and sweaty and the focus would just be on both of you cumming as soon as possible.

You hadn’t pictured it like this. Like, Mingi looking at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time.

His hair is messy from your hands grabbing it, and the sunlight lights it up like a halo. Time feels unmoving, you’re drinking in the sight of him and trying to memorize every small detail.

He starts thrusting carefully and slowly. His back is upright, leaning away from you so he can watch his cock go in and out of you. You can’t stop watching him though. He’s so beautiful, his hair is a mess, and beads of sweat are starting to trickle down his chest. You reach your hands up, caressing his skin.

You wonder if you’re breaking some sort of unspoken rule. The two of you hadn’t discussed or set any boundaries, but when you slide your hands over Mingis chest and stomach, you wonder if you should have. This isn’t just fucking, you’re worshipping him and looking at him with intense adoration. He’s going so slow too, really taking his time. You’re not fucking, this is making love.

”I’ve never felt this good, you feel so good,” he moans under his breath. He curls his hands under your ass, picking you up so he can get better leverage to thrust as deep inside as possible. The new angle makes him groan, ”Fuck, you were made for me, weren’t you?”

It has you sobbing with pleasure. Mingis fingers are digging into your flesh, and he fucks you at this torturous pace for tens of minutes. You can truly feel the drag of his dick inside of you, when he bottoms out all the way inside to when the tip of his dick is at your entrance.

”You’re so good, oh my god! So good, you’re so handsome, Mingi,” you praise him, causing Mingi to pick up the speed.

You’re grabbing at his arms and shoulders, trying to pull him down, to get him closer. He lets you down on the bed and leans down, coming chest to chest with you, shoving his arm under your head instead. Your bodies are flush with each other now, Mingis pelvis rubbing against you and getting you close to cumming again stupidly quick.

His mouth is right by your ear, pressing a few sloppy kisses to your neck and temple. He is moaning your name and though his voice is hushed and strained you can still feel it reverberate through his chest, right against yours.

It’s precisely that which has you cumming, the sound of his voice calling your name over and over, telling you how good you feel. Your ears start to ring when your orgasm rolls through you and Mingi only picks up the pace to intensify it. You can faintly hear him, somewhere far away now, this otherwordly being showering you with so much affection it has tears forming in your eyes.

”You’re so perfect,” he’s telling you, fucking you faster. ”Just for me, all for me, you’re all mine.”

Somewhere through it, you realize he’s picked up the speed because he’s close too, but he wants to make it good for you before he pulls out. His eyes are on you, watching your breathing return to normal and feeling your hands unclench from his shoulders, and only when he’s certain that you’re coming down from the orgasm he leans back and pulls out. He only manages to get his hand around his cock before he cums all over your stomach, cumming so hard he shoots all the way up to your chest.

Mingis other hand is grabbing your waist and you can’t stop looking at the way he’s marked you up. There are red marks on you from the tips of his fingers, and little marks from his nails all over your hips, and you’re covered in his cum. Just seconds ago he’d told you that you’re all his, and in this moment you feel it.

”Fuck, that was…” Mingi is the first to speak. ”Shit, let me get you cleaned up.”

He scrambles for his underwear, starting to wipe his cum from your stomach.

You’ve managed to blink away the tears that welled up when you came, but there’s still a sob within your chest that you’re fighting to choke down. Everything about what just happened was about a thousand times more intense than you had ever dreamt of. Had he not pulled away you think you might have confessed to him right then and there.

”How are you feeling?” you ask him, clearing your throat and hoping Mingi reads it as just being fucked out.

”Very good,” he responds, without a hint of hesitance or a second of stalling. There’s a faint laugh in his voice, and he’s starting to smile. Nothing about him looks like you currently feel.

”Oh,” you say, struggling to find words. It’s not like you had expected him to just bare his heart and pour out confessions. You’d just expected something more to follow, after all of that. You had made love. There’s no other word for it.

Mingi leans down and kisses you once, so chaste you barely have time to kiss back.

He gets up and pulls out a pair of new boxers from his dresser, stepping in them.

”Fuck, I made you breakfast earlier and forgot all about it,” he tells you. You look over at the nightstand, where your breakfast sits forgotten.

”Oh,” you repeat. Your head drops back down on Mingis pillow. You speak again, ”I think I’d rather have a shower.”

It’s all so thoroughly strange. Mingi clasps his hand in yours and pulls you up from the bed, and you feel perturbed. You’ve seen Mingi greet Yunho with more affection than the way he helps you up on your feet. At least he joins you in the shower, but you feel weirdly disconnected from him. Even when he jokes and suds up his hair into silly hairstyles you can only manage halfhearted laughs.

Your body aches to have him closer, to feel him pressed against you and to have his lips back on yours again. The kisses he’s giving you now feel cheeky, as if he’s kissing you just because he can, and not because he truly wants to.

You suppose there’s reason to feel thankful, because at the very least Mingi hasn’t rejected you. His casualty is worth a lot more to you than the possibility that he could have pulled back and realized that everything about this was a mistake. He ruffles your hair after the shower, and it stings, but each second you continue to remind yourself that this is how things are supposed to be.

He lets you have one of his shirts after the shower, and he cooks you a very late lunch, then Mingi has to leave for work. Your legs are still unsteady when you make the walk back home to your house.

You prepare yourself to be ignored again. You busy yourself with cleaning your room, reading a book, cleaning out weeds in the garden, sending out job applications, anything you can to make the hours go by. You don’t want to check your phone, but your fingers itch to see if Mingi has texted you.

Nothing.

It’s not until late that night when you know Mingi's shift has ended that he calls you.

”Hey,” you answer, walking over to your window. Mingis car is in the driveway, but you can't see him in his room.

”Hi there,” he greets you. ”Busy day?”

”Oh you know, the usual,” you say. ”Mom wasn’t too happy with me spending the night but she was very relieved to hear it was with you.”

You’re still dressed in his t-shirt, and throughout the day you've been bringing the collar up to your nose to smell him on it. You find yourself doing it now too.

”Her head would explode if she knew what you were doing at my house this morning,” he teases you.

”Good thing no one will ever know then,” you joke, though it is the truth. It was always meant to be a secret.

”Right,” he says. ”So, do you think maybe you could come over tomorrow? My parents will be gone, I start working in the afternoon again, I was thinking maybe-”

”Yes,” you interrupt him.

Mingi laughs, ”Okay. Uh, do I sound desperate if I say that you can come over as soon as you wake up?”

”A little, but I like it,” you giggle.

”Good.”

”I’ll see you tomorrow then!”

You sleep so much better when you know that you’re seeing Mingi tomorrow. You wake up feeling completely rested, and you’re giddy as you sort out your bedhead and get dressed.

Mingis parents aren’t home, and there’s a spare key resting atop the frame of the front door that you use to let yourself into their home. It’s still early, early enough that you know that Mingi is probably fast asleep in his bed. You try to keep your steps light as you trudge up the stairs and into his room. The curtains are drawn, only letting in a stream of sunlight that lights up a sliver on his bed. The orange morning sun is casting a few inches of light on his thigh, so you let it lead you.

It’s where you first press a kiss. He smells of sleep and Mingi, you inhale the scent of his skin between kisses you trail all over his thigh and over the front of his underwear. Mingi sighs softly in his sleep, hips twitching when your lips kiss the tip of his dick through the fabric of his boxers. You’re looking up to watch his face, but when he’s still asleep as you mouth over his entire cock, you crawl up and kiss his lips.

Mingi huffs and puffs, twisting underneath you. You continue to kiss all over his sleepy, confused face. He cracks an eye open, transforming from a groggy confusion to a content smile.

”Morning,” he mumbles happily.

”Hey,” you whisper, kissing the corner of his mouth. ”Can I suck you off?”

He lets out a drawn-out moan that tapers off into a sigh, nodding fervently. His hands are weak and his fingers fumble to find purchase in your hair when you pull his underwear down his legs and take him into your mouth right away.

He sounds so lovely, all raspy and deep from his sleep. Even though he’s just come to consciousness, Mingi makes sure to tell you how good you are making him feel. He moans your name, over and over, giving you so much praise it’s making your head swim.

It doesn’t take him long to get close, so you choke out permission for him to cum in your mouth, and Mingi listens eagerly. Even as he cums he’s vocal, talking you through it and reminding you to breathe all while he praises you for how well you take it. He’s so gentle it’s making you moan as you swallow, and when you pull off his dick you scramble to get his thigh between yours.

Mingis hands guide your hips over his thigh, setting the pace for you to hump him. He keeps the praise coming, and when he feels you getting close he pulls you down for a numbing kiss. You cum on his thigh while deep in a kiss, and Mingi holds you close to his chest as you come down from it.

Somewhere in the post-orgasm haze, you both fall asleep. It’s peaceful and quiet, Mingi lulls you to sleep with the sounds of his breath and his fingers drawing patterns on your back. When you wake up again it’s in a sweat. His little bedroom is swarming with heat, so you decide on a shower, where Mingi has your chest pressed against the white tiles while he fucks you until you’re cumming a second time, this time while full of his cock. He bites down on your shoulder to keep from cumming until he knows you’re fully satisfied, and only then does he pull out and let himself cum on your ass.

When you’re pulling his shirt over your head 10 minutes later while he cooks you lunch, you catch sight of marks on your shoulder. His teeth had dug hard enough to bloom bruises on your skin, and your mind reels at the fact that he has marked you up.

Mingi has you coming over the next morning too, after you’d spent the previous night sending him pictures of the bruises his teeth left on your skin. His responses had been sporadic as he focused on work, but it didn’t stop you from going into detail about all the things you want Mingi to do to you.

It’s like all the limits have finally vanished, neither of you are held back by the fears and worries of before. It’s just like it had been before you moved back, when you only had phone calls to rely on. Back then, the comfort had come from the fact that you didn’t have to actualize all the things you spoke about. You had time to feel each other out and discuss what you want, all without having to put yourself on the line for possible failure. Now, you’ve found reassurance in the fact that you do have a physical relationship.

You know each other in your bones. You can read all the queues his body gives you, and you know what every little expression on his face means. You can sense differences in his sighs and you know what his voice sounds like when it’s getting to be too much. There’s no room for doubt when Mingi is in front of you, you just intrinsically know what he needs.

The two of you fall into a routine. When morning comes, you skip over to Mingi's house and usually he’s still asleep, tired from his shift the day before. You wake him up with kisses or gentle touches, and if he’s hard by the time you get there, Mingi loves to wake up to you already taking care of him. Some mornings you simply lay beside him, tracing his face with your finger. His hair sticks to his forehead so you brush it back, giving soft kisses to the side of his temple. Your pointer finger follows the contour of his nose and lips, feeling the warmth of his breath exit his nose.

Even though he’s asleep and unaware of your worship, you can’t bring yourself to stop. It’s in these moments you can be fully truthful with your affections. Letting your hands linger on his chest for a moment longer, focusing on his heartbeat underneath your palm. You whisper things to him you’re too afraid to say when he can hear you, just to release yourself from the need. It satiates you enough, like this airing out of your system, enough to keep you going until the next morning when you once again get overwhelmed with the sight of his sleeping form blanketed by sunlight. There is only one thing you forbid yourself from saying, three words that you vow to never let yourself speak.

A full two weeks pass of this. Every day you explore something new, things you’ve spoken about on the phone over the last year. With Mingis parents working daytime, you have full freedom to be as loud as you want. Mingi also takes full advantage of a free house. One morning he bends you over the kitchen counter while breakfast is still cooking. His mouth is always right by your ear, moaning and telling you how bad he needs you, despite fucking you upstairs in his bedroom just an hour earlier. Another day he has you ride him on the couch right before he leaves for work. You love it most when Mingi randomly decides to go down on you, whether it’s in the shower or he makes you lie down on the kitchen table. When he’s got his mouth on you he’s possessive, making sure to mark up your thighs and hips. It happens so often that he sometimes ends up darkening the hickeys he left a few days earlier.

Then Mingis schedule changes, and he has to work in the mornings. It doesn’t stop you, but it puts a damper on things as you know them. You have to meet in the afternoons instead, and with Mingi's parents home you end up sitting through long dinners with his parents, reminiscing and talking. It makes sex a little difficult, and Mingi hates the fact that you have to be quiet. He picks you up in his car a few times, but quick head while parked at the edge of the woods is a harsh contrast to the hours of sex you’d been able to have a few weeks earlier.

You’re caught by surprise one day when your phone calls and you rush to pick up only to find Yunhos voice at the other end. You’re so surprised that you pull your phone away and check the name on the screen, and sure enough it’s Yunho's contact name.

”Hey,” you reply, trying to play off the shock.

”Not happy to hear from me?” he teases.

”Shut up, you know I am!” you joke back.

He laughs in return and makes some small talk, telling you how much fun it was to see you and asking you how you’ve been.

”But, hey, uh,” he interjects. ”You ended up leaving with my shirt, is there any chance I could get it back?”

”Shit,” you curse, squeezing your eyes shut in embarrassment. ”You’re right, I totally forgot. Uh, do you want me to bring it by today?”

”That’d be perfect, thanks!”

When Yunho hangs up the phone, you chew nervously at your lip. Getting the shirt back to Yunho wouldn’t be an issue, it’s just that it’s in Mingi’s room somewhere, and asking him to locate it would probably lead to another weird moment where Mingi says something petty. You’re pacing around your room when your eyes land on his driveway and you remember that Mingi is at work. You’re just about to call Yunho and tell him today’s gonna be impossible, before the solution hits you.

Mingis mom opens the door to their home when you knock, and beams at the sight of you on their doorstep.

”Sweetheart! Hi there, Mingi is at work right now, I’m afraid,” she tells you while wrapping her arms around you for a hug. She always does this, even though you’ve been spending a lot of time over at their house recently, Mingis mother hugs you every time she sees you.

”I know, it’s just that I left something in Mingi's room that I need to get if that’s okay?”

So she lets you run up to his bedroom. You feel a little bad while rummaging through his room, but it doesn’t take you long to find Yunhos flannel shirt bunched up halfway underneath Mingis dresser. Mingis mom tries to convince you to stay for dinner, but you tell her you have to get going, and within moments you’re in your car on the way to Yunhos house.

It’s another picture-perfect day outside, the sky is a pristine blue and the wind is blowing just enough to bring some relief in this heat. Yunho is outside in his front yard, with the rear of his car jacked up.

”Hey, you!” you call, getting out of your car. ”Car trouble?”

You can tell by the fact that he has picked apart the entire wheelhouse that it’s not just something routine, but Yunho shrugs his shoulders.

”Not something I can’t fix,” he smiles. ”Dude, you’re quick. I called you, what, 30 minutes ago?”

You nod, sitting down on the tire Yunho has removed.

”Honestly, I was losing my mind at home. I’ve been doing jack shit for days now, I think I might die out of boredom,” you complain.

”Oh, so you’re saying you left the minute you got my call just because you had nothing better to do? It’s not just because you love me?” Yunho quirks an eyebrow, wiping grease from his forehead.

”Can’t it be both? And anyway, I had to go over to Mingis to get your shirt, so I didn’t leave ’the minute I got your call’,” you say, sticking out your tongue at him.

”It was at Mingi's house?” he asks.

Something comes over Yunhos face that you can’t pinpoint.

”Yeah.. I left with him during the party, and we went to his house afterward.” You hope he buys it as a reasonable enough explanation, it’s at the very least true. Just not the entire truth.

Yunho shrugs, and his eyes lose the edge they just had. He smiles, ”Leaving in one man's shirt to go to another dude's house, all in one night.. Impressive, I’ll give you that.”

”Fuck off!” you huff, kicking Yunhos shoe.

He laughs, slapping down a greasy hand on your knee to let you know that he’s just joking, even though you already know that.

”Although…” you trail off. ”Mingi did say that it’s your move.”

”Oh yeah, it is. I wasn’t expecting you to fall for it, though.” Yunhos's voice is still teasing, but not in the same way that Mingis usually is. You can tell that Yunho is just friendly, that there’s no flirting laced in his words or tone. It makes you miss Mingi.

”I don’t fall for things like that,” you retort, but quickly find your mind going to all the shirts Mingi has let you borrow these past weeks. You wear them all day, every day, even when you come back home after spending time with him. You even sleep in them, and you frequently bury your face in the collar to smell his laundry detergent. The few times he gives you a shirt he’s already worn you end up getting so worked up about it that you think you’d be getting yourself off while smelling it, if it wasn’t for the fact that Mingi now has you cumming at least twice a day.

So, perhaps you do fall for tricks like that. But only when it’s Mingi.

Yunho goes silent, and you can see that he’s chewing on the inside of his lip.

”What’s wrong?” you ask him.

His eyes flick over to yours for a second, then he looks at his hands. You’ve never seen Yunho this deep in thought outside an academic setting, and something about it is making you uneasy.

”You know,” he begins, but the words die as quickly as he says them.

”Yes?” you try again.

He pauses, looking up at you.

”You know that Mingi is my best friend,” he says. ”And I love him, I do, but sometimes he acts like an idiot. And I can’t- I just hate seeing it, you know?”

”Okay,” you mumble, only growing more confused with every word Yunho says.

”I don’t think it was right how he came here with you, then spent the whole night talking to everyone but you. But, he just gets so weird sometimes, right? And like I said, I love him, he’s my best friend, but- we just thought it would be different when you came back home. So, Wooyoung and I decided to see what would happen if I lent you my shirt, and-.. Yeah.”

”What… What are you saying?” Your voice is getting quieter. The cheery happiness from before has retired, and there’s something strange in the atmosphere now. You can’t understand what Yunho is getting at, but there’s a part of you that wonders and wishes. A part of you that can read between the lines of what Yunho is too afraid to say out loud.

”It’s not my place to say,” Yunho says, looking everywhere but your eyes.

”At least tell me what you intended to do with this shirt.” It’s still in your hands, his flannel, and your fingers are tightening around it.

”We just figured that maybe he needed a push,” he tells you, sounding so sheepish.

”You wanted him to get jealous?” you finally say it out loud. Yunho doesn’t meet your eyes, but it’s a clear enough answer. So you ask, ”What do you know about me and Mingi?”

”In all honesty? I don’t know anything. And it used to hurt me because Mingi is my best friend and I’ve known him since we were kids. But that’s what clued me in because I know for a fact that he would have told me if you were dating,” Yunho says. You’re holding your breath while listening to him. He continues, ”I, uh, I accidentally saw the preview of a text you sent him once. Something about.. well, that’s not important. But, I realized it then. We all thought it was just a matter of time, and that you’d make it official when you moved back home.”

You’re hearing every single thing Yunho is saying, but the words just won’t stick. You’re becoming more aware of the birds singing and the sound of the wind among the treetops.

”Mingi is in love with you,” Yunho says. At last. The rest of his words blur together. He has been, a long time, doesn’t know it. Yunhos mouth is moving, and you know what he’s saying, but the rational part of you that knows this can’t be true has stopped listening long ago.

Mingi is not in love with you. He’s just not, that can’t be true.

Yunho scrambles towards you, hands landing on each of your knees. He looks so concerned and his mouth is still moving.

”-you okay? What’s wrong?” You hear once your brain stops blocking your ears. You’re crying, tears falling from your cheeks down onto your hands.

”What did I say?” Yunho asks frantically.

And the confessions start rolling. You tell Yunho about everything, from that first night to everything that has happened since you returned back home. You tell him about the weird moment when Mingi drove you home after the party.

”Don’t you hear it though? He’s in love with you! My god, I think he always has been,” Yunho says.

You scoff, ”He ignored me for four whole months during my first semester away. He’s not in love with me, this is just.. out of comfort, it’s just easy.”

”You’re both in denial. You know what I’m hearing? That Mingi was so heartbroken when you moved away that he couldn’t even be a good friend. That didn’t just extend to you, by the way. He barely hung out with us during that time, and it only changed when you came home for Christmas,” Yunho tries to lay it out for you.

”You’re wrong. You’re wrong-”

”I can’t tell you what to believe,” Yunho says. His hand squeezes your knee, leaving dirty marks of grease on your skin. It’s a gesture of comfort, and you appreciate it for what it is. ”You need to talk to Mingi. Maybe disarm him by telling him that you’re in love with him first.”

The air feels different when you drive back home. It feels heavier, somehow. Yunhos words bear an incredible weight and no matter how many times you run them through your head they don’t get any easier to process. It would be different if it had come from Seonghwa or Hongjoong, who would say practically anything to comfort you. You don’t think Yunho would sweeten his words like they would, or even at all.

You sit through a quiet lunch with your mom, unable to get your thoughts in any other direction than the conversation you just had with Yunho. For some reason, you feel absolutely stuck there, and you can’t see a way for things to work. It feels as if time has been suspended in wait for your next move. The hours tick on though. You lay in your bed and watch the numbers on your alarm clock change. Seconds turn into minutes, and then hours, and your mind is still stuck in the same place as it has since you left Yunhos house.

You don’t realize when the clock indicates that Mingi is ending his shift. The numbers are just ticking, hypnotizing you. You startle when your phone calls and the pit in your stomach grows when you know that it’s probably Mingi.

Your fingers move on pure muscle memory as you pick up your phone and swipe to answer the call, then raise the phone to your ear. Through the phone, you can hear Mingis car running.

”Hello?” Mingi asks. ”You know, it’s usually the person who picks up the phone who speaks first.”

”Sorry,” you croak. You don’t even recognize the sound of your voice.

”Are you okay?” Mingi sounds so concerned it makes your stomach twist. It’s still the same Mingi you have known all your life, and he’s the same man you’ve been fucking the past weeks, but something feels as if it has fundamentally changed. You try to listen to his voice, read it for any hint of tenderness you’d have previously missed. You can’t make out any, it’s the same Mingi as always.

”It’s been a weird day,” you settle for.

”Then what do you say about changing into your swimsuit and we go to the lake? It’s so hot out, I can’t stand to be home. And maybe it can take your mind off of things?” he suggests.

”Yeah, sounds good.”

”I’ll pick you up in 5, better hurry!”

Mingi hangs up. Your head feels all fuzzy and distant, but you pull yourself out of bed and get changed. While putting your clothes over your swimsuit you realize you’re in one of Mingis t-shirts. Every single bit of this feels like a divine punishment. To be dressed in Mingis clothes and have marks in the shape of his mouth decorate your chest and the insides of your thighs, to be so thoroughly claimed by him but yet not be his, is agonizing.

You’re aware that Mingi would park in your driveway and come knocking at your door, wanting to impress and appease your parents at every turn. You just can’t deal with that today, so you hurriedly make your way down the stairs and out your door to wait for him outside. You’re just in time, because Mingi is making the turn up your street and it’s only half a minute before he’s pulling up to your house and you’re getting in his car.

”Hey, I missed you!” Mingi sounds cheerful, sporting a smile so big it’s splitting. You hate the way that time and space curl around Mingi each time you see him as if he presents to you in technicolor and slow motion. Your eyes pass over each feature, trying your best to handle what just seeing him does to your body.

Mingi keeps a pair of extra sunglasses in his car for you, and when you’re sat down he leans over to place them on your face. The gesture is enough to make your breath hitch, but he uses it as an opportunity to lean in for a swift kiss, and you feel as if you’re floating.

Today, Mingi has Fleetwood Mac playing softly throughout the car.

You’re just looking at Mingi with this pit in your stomach, this sense of impending doom sitting heavy in your abdomen. The world feels slow and strangely saturated. The seconds stretch on infinitely, allowing you plenty of time to watch the sunlight adorn Mingi's skin.

You’re aware that you can’t stop staring. When Mingi parks the car and you start making the short walk through the trees to get to the lake, your eyes are always set on him. From the towel slung over his shoulder to the sweat that has broken out and is trickling down the nape of his neck. You’re trying to make sense of the sight in front of you, the same Mingi you’ve made this walk with a hundred times, the only difference being that he’s had you in the most intimate and tender ways now. It forces you to rewrite history, the memories of your childhood innocence are permanently changed. If only you had known then, while sitting on the big rock and throwing pebbles out to break the still surface of the water if you had only known that the boy handing you rocks would end up being the man you fall in love with fifteen years later.

Your stupid, stupid heart. Sometimes you think the ribs, flesh, and muscle containing it won’t be enough to keep it in place. It beats so hard and fast it billows from your chest, through your arms, and out to the very tip of each finger. You have to flex them to stop that lovesick tingle from numbing you.

The water is beautiful. The lake looks just like you remember it, the wind is blowing slight ripples upon the surface and the trees are swinging lightly. Besides the gentle hum of nature, the place is completely undisturbed and it’s just you and Mingi here today.

You're placing your towels down and undressing in silence, barely glancing at each other. You sneak little glances at him in the corner of your eye, wondering what he’s thinking. Yunhos words are still echoing through your head, getting louder and more unbearable for every minute that passes.

Mingi is wading into the water before you know it, covered up to his knees, then thighs, then his waist, and eventually he points his arms and dives in entirely. He erupts back through the surface with a shriek that echoes over the lake, and you can’t stop yourself from laughing.

He rushes back up to where you’re laying on your towel, shoulders bunched up in reaction to the cold water. Mingi shakes his head above you to force droplets onto your bare skin, laughing loudly when you yell in protest. Things feel so extraordinarily regular, it’s as if you have transported back ten years in time. Even when Mingi gets down on his towel and leans over to kiss you, it still feels so normal. It just feels so right with Mingi, like this is what you’re meant to be doing.

Mingis's mouth is cold and wet from his dip in the water, and his hair continues to drip onto your face, but you find it hard to care when he wraps you up in a long, passionate kiss. He’s on his stomach on his towel now, as close to you as he can get. Your heart beats with a discernible nervosity at the fact that you are laid out in the open with Mingi making out with you. There would be quite a walk for anyone else to get here, and you would probably be able to hear branches breaking or even a car parking way before anyone could walk upon the scene and spot the two of you. The risk of getting caught here is low, but you still feel like you’re on display.

Mingis cold fingers wrap around your jaw where he keeps you firmly as his tongue enters your mouth. The kissing goes to your head very quickly, dulling all your senses as all your thoughts are replaced by what Mingi is doing with his mouth. He knows you so well that he pulls away seconds before you lose your breath, letting you regain it while he kisses the corner of your mouth softly. His hand trails over your chest and down your stomach carefully, feeling the way your ribcage heaves as your breaths get steadier.

Mingis eyes follow the path of his hand before he abruptly stops by your knee.

”What’s that?” he asks you. You have to crane your neck to see what he’s looking at. Not much remains of it, but there are still faint marks of dirt and grease on the top of your knees. Just on the outside of your leg, there’s an unmistakable fingerprint.

”Oh,” you mumble. Mingi detaches himself from you with a quickness that makes you lose your breath, and you scramble to get up too.

”I don’t- I feel like I don’t even need to ask who left that on you,” Mingi says.

”It was Yunho,” you rush out, wanting so badly to resolve this before Mingis thoughts spin and twist so bad that you can’t untangle them. It’s clear from the look on his face that your words and their haste only have the opposite effect.

”Yunho?” he questions, getting quieter.

”It’s not all what you think. He called me about that shirt he let me borrow a few weeks ago, remember? I went to his house to give it back and we got to talking. You know, just.. stuff, about life. I ended up getting emotional and he comforted me. I was crying and he put his hands on my knees, that’s all.” You read Mingis's face for any changes, but nothing happens. He only looks at you, taking in your half-truth excuse of an explanation.

”What is it that Yunho can comfort you about, but I can’t?” Mingi asks, his eyes staring into yours with so much intensity you feel like crying. You had expected everything but that. You’d rather Mingi accuse you of getting intimate with Yunho, that you’re lying and it’s a terrible cover story you’re spinning. You could defend yourself from all that, but not this.

”That’s not… Mingi, it’s not like that. I didn’t just choose to go there for comfort. It just happened, I just started crying, and that’s it,” you urge.

Mingis legs are drawn up to his chest and his arms are wrapped around them. He looks so small and vulnerable. His eyebrows are starting to furrow together, and you’re finding it hard to tell if it’s anger or sadness that is starting to show on his face. Both possibilities terrify you equally.

”Why?” he wonders, simply. ”Why did you cry?”

You can physically see the restraints he’s putting on himself to hear you out, to not race away with his worries. You wish it means what you want it to mean. That Mingis vulnerability was an act of love instead of self-preservation. He’s probably sat there worried at the threat of Yunho taking you away and replacing his role. That the fun you’ve had the past weeks, and the year before that, would be over, just like that. You wonder if he views it as a hindrance more than anything. Mingi has finally scored a way to have sex on the regular, without the commitment or worries of starting with someone new. What you have is a lot of comfort, and you suppose he doesn’t want to lose that.

Still, even this feels like a lot more than you deserve of him. If you can’t have Mingi in the ways that you want, you’ll have to do your best to preserve the arrangement you have now.

”It’s not important,” you mumble. You know it’s not a good enough answer.

Mingi lets the word hover in the air for a moment, pondering on whether he should let it go.

In the end, he decides to speak. ”There’s nothing you can tell me that would scare me off. You know that, right?”

”That’s not true,” you whisper, so quiet it’s almost a hiss. ”There is something I can’t ever tell you.”

Tears start to fall down your cheeks and it’s now a conscious effort to keep your sobs contained within your chest. The lake is still breathtaking, the wind is still and the sun is bright in the perfect blue sky. It’s a beautiful day to get your heart broken, at the very least.

Mingi stretches his fingers and you watch the tendons twitch and flex. You’re brought back to what you were doing earlier, shaking off your nerves.

”What if I say it first?” he says. You look up at his eyes.

”What?”

”That I love you,” he tells you. His eyes are big and dark, brimming with tears of his own. ”If I say it first, will you say it too?”

”Mingi-”

”I do love you,” he begins. ”It’s stupid, looking back, because I think I’ve loved you since before you left. I loved you that first night, I already knew it, and I felt so stupid when I woke up the morning after. Doing that with you when I was drunk out of my mind made me feel like shit. And then I felt even more like shit, because- because, it made me realize that it hadn’t been the way I wanted it to be. So I took comfort in the fact that it was over the phone, and I still had time to do it right. To start right, with you, I mean. I wanted our first time to be perfect. I knew I loved you when I kept thinking about it. But then, when you finally came back, it truly clicked. For a while, I had figured that I’d know how I felt about you when we had sex for the first time. But I was wrong because all it took was me seeing you to know that I’m in love with you.”

”Mingi,” you whisper, again, over and over. It’s all you can bring yourself to say, like a prayer, before you crawl over to him and press your lips to his. It doesn’t matter that it takes him a beat to respond, you don’t care at all anymore about how things get awkward or strange. You continue to kiss over his mouth until he’s ready to kiss you back, when time finally catches up to you and it dawns on you both that this is real.

You can’t stop kissing him, breathing out his name every time you part.

”I love you,” you mumble into his mouth. ”I’m so in love with you.”

Mingi smiles into the kiss. Your senses are overwhelmed with the taste of both your tears and the fact that you’re both now smiling and giggling, repeating ’I love you’s until the words merge.

He pulls you into his arms, tumbling over into the grass. He stops kissing you to just look at you, and you watch him too. Your Mingi, in the grass by the lake. Finally, your Mingi.

#mingi x reader #ateez angst #ateez imagine #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #mingi x y/n

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iwritesinsnottragedieshoney · 9 months

Text

litty swimsuit (spencer reid)

paring: spencer reid x reader

summary: the team vacations at rossi's summer residence while spencer reid deals with insecurities, emotions beyond his control, and a y/n litty swimsuit.

genre: i guess fluff, but towards the end it changes into the beginning of smut, but nothing serious, actually.

warnings: spencer being a little insecure; one or two curses; some sexually tinged comments; maybe some spicy scenes at the end, but, like i said before, nothing hard; a lot of use of the phrase "frown".

word count: 11, 631

notes: this is the first time i post anything here and the first time i write something about spencer so i hope i didn't screw things up. english is also not my first language, some words may be used incorrectly just because the translator thinks it's a synonym and i believe him, so… have fun :) (every pic is from pinterest, i don't own them).

spencer walked out through rossi's glass door, his nostrils filled with the unmistakable smell of chlorine, mixed with a hint of summer afternoon and sunscreen.

the sun was in its full stage and he frowned slightly at the thought of the impact of sunlight on the human body and the consequences of the time spent outside then — he focused mainly on the negative ones, because they came to his mind the fastest. but he immediately pushed them away, frowning even harder. aside from forgetting his sunglasses from his room, he remembered what morgan had told him when they arrived at rossi's summer house: you need to chill out a bit, man. look, a whole week off work and a whole week with y/n in a swimsuit! she told emily it's litty.

spencer didn't understand a few things at the time, and unfortunately for him, they were all centered around y/n.

first of all, he had no desire to chill out a bit and didn't look like he was going to be able to do that anytime soon. two weeks ago there was a chance for a vacation for the whole team. someone (emily) discreetly remarked (gathered everyone in the check-in room thanks to garcia who sent everyone a flashing, unlockable message to the work computers) that it would be nice to spend time at rossi's summer residence at that time, which he readily agreed to (not really, but everyone had time to nod their heads appreciatively over garcia's presentation, where she presented the arguments for and rossi was bribed with the idea of themed Italian evenings).

spencer obviously didn't mind spending time with the team. apart from them, he didn't really have any other friends, and his mother was going to be involved in activities that would conflict with his possible visit, so he had no plans. he even lifted the corners of his mouth for a brief moment. that subsided, however, when the travel talks began a few days later, and y/n elbowed him lightly in the ribs and said she had a bunch of light and silly romances ready so she could read one a day, which is pretty much like as if they were reading at the same pace. then he realized that if he spent a whole week with the team, he'd spend it with y/n as well, and his stress-adrenaline spiked so high he nearly spilled the coffee he was carrying to his desk at the time.

it's not like he didn't like y/n. because he liked. actually, very much so. derek said he's totally head over heels.

and guess that was the problem.

when y/n joined the team, which happened exactly six months, eight days, twenty-one hours and thirty-two minutes ago, she totally turned his head, as penelope said. she was the most beautiful girl he had ever met, and her smiles were either very wide or delightfully stretchy (these were spencer's favourites, because then there were tiny wrinkles around her eyes and her cheeks were slightly pink), and when she greeted meeting him for the first time, she raised her hand in an awkward greeting at the same time he did, then laughed out loud before finally saying her name with the smile still on her face.

he wasn't sure if he was just imagining it, and he didn't even want to check if it was, but he felt that y/n had become a very good friend to him. someone who listened to what he had read last time in a new science article that appeared in a kiosk outside his block and didn't roll his eyes; someone who showed up with coffee and a donut when he was having a bad day; someone who used to come to his hotel room when things were done with chinese takeout to watch documentaries on TV; someone who played cards with him (even if y/n made up her own rules that were often meant to win only her); someone who eventually became more than just a good friend to him.

he couldn't even tell when he wished they were more. all he knew was that there was no chance of any change in that direction between them. girls like y/n weren't interested in guys like spencer, he knew it. he didn't want his stupid feelings to end. he liked the fact that y/n was somehow close, and if only she knew how he felt about her, he wouldn't have survived the humiliation of rejection.

anyway, when spencer realized that y/n would also be joining them on the trip, he panicked slightly. since she'd joined the team, they'd only spent time together at work and on field case, and that made their relationship somewhat limited (reason infinite why spencer thought maybe even their friendship was a bit forced). spencer would never have dared to offer her anything else because she might think he was asking her out (he hadn't asked derek yet, but he was pretty sure going to a museum to see the remains of a newly found tomb didn't count as a date, but he preferred not risk), and then she would surely refuse, which is why they did not meet outside of work. unless it was about going out to bars with the team.

y/n never proposed anything either (derek said it was because spencer wasn't giving her enough indication of his interest in such a proposal, but spencer thought being neutral about everything about y/n was safe and a chance to be too pushy), so spencer only confirmed his conviction. he was destined to be friend.

however, he began to have merciless thoughts about the possible end of their relationship, precisely because of the vacation trip to rossi's summer estate. eventually y/n will have to realize that spencer is actually incredibly boring, and his habits, behaviors, and interests are not at all caused by the situations that another case puts in their way. he will understand that spencer watches TV documentaries not because there is nothing more interesting on the hotel TV, but because he likes to do it. after all, no one willingly watches television documentaries! everyone knows it!

and on the one hand he knew that these thoughts were irrational rather than worth considering, but on the other hand he watched his surroundings for any signs that might prepare him for an imminent farewell to the warm feeling he felt inside when y/n appeared on the horizon.

spencer was sure that there were plenty of other things that y/n could find out about him during the trip and lose interest in him even at the level of work colleagues, so from the beginning of the trip he tried not to drive the stress reel and didn't think about it anymore, and it was either better or worse.

the other thing he didn't understand about derek was the y/n litty swimsuit. to be honest, spencer wasn't very interested in the y/n swimsuit until derek mentioned it. he didn't even combine the trip with swimsuits. but now he was definitely interested in it, and he was horrified that he was beginning to think of his co-worker and best friend in that context. he tried not to imagine it too often, but his thoughts involuntarily wandered in that direction when they were filling out reports at the office a day or two before, when he was in the shower, when he was going to bed, and when they were on the plane here. so, well, he wasn't doing very well.

but back to when he left rossi's house for his backyard swimming pool — derek was right, he needed to chill out a bit.

the swimming pool was rectangular in shape and was crossed by a volleyball net; on one side were hotch and morgan, and on the other side, emily and jj, who were clearly already engaged in the game for good, as the cheers directed at the men indicated victory and their considerable excitement. reid remembered derek's words again and refrained from telling them about the dangers of exerting himself in a place that was so exposed to the sun's rays. chill out a bit.

he descended the small steps to the stone path that flanked the pool, only guessing how hot the slabs of stone could get under his slipper-protected feet. he noticed that rossi, who was doing a crossword puzzle, was sitting at a table covered with a red umbrella, and probably wouldn't look up even if an african elephant ran in front of him. morgan's words rang again in spencer's ears, and he didn't stop to look over the man's shoulder and solve a few passwords. chill out a bit.

so reid walked on, toward white, comfortable-looking loungers. they were tucked away in the shade, far enough away that the noises coming from the pool wouldn't be annoying and that their distance wouldn't seem exaggerated. on one of them was penelope, holding a glass of iced coffee in one hand and a kindle in the other, which she was staring at intently.

spencer looked around discreetly, but saw no y/n anywhere. he knew she was the first to leave the house — at six o'clock in the morning he wasn't awake enough to get up, but he heard her soft footsteps down the hall and the slam of the front door. he didn't know where she was, but when he opened his eyes again, the whole team was downstairs, discussing something quite loudly. it was early afternoon now, and spencer was angry with himself for not being able to get up early enough. he felt as if he didn't know as much as the others. as if he missed something.

he sat down precariously on one of the deckchairs, the one closest to penelope's, and gripped the leather-bound book he'd brought with him a little tighter. he ordered it from his local bookstore a month ago, and the delivery difficulties only made him want to devour it whole, but now, when y/n wasn't around, he somehow didn't feel like opening it. he involuntarily looked towards the garden, remembering that when they arrived three days ago, y/n had disappeared there for a good hour. maybe she went to see that little pond she'd been telling him about...

"what are you looking for?" garcia's suspicious voice reached his ears, and he immediately felt a treacherous blush rise to his cheeks. "or rather, for whom."

she added the last one with a noticeable smirk in her voice, as if she knew the answer to her question all along, and spencer wouldn't be surprised if she really did.

he looked at her, still slightly surprised by her unexpected remark; the blonde lifted her sunglasses so that they rested on top of her head, her fingers gently, almost soundlessly, tapping the kindle's surface.

he noticed that her nails were painted a dark blood red. just like emily wore. and jj. probably similar to y/n. apparently it was the result of their ladies' night last night, which had dragged on until one in the morning, which spencer knew because there was a wall between his and emily's room that was thin enough for him to hear music and laughter coming from the room. that was the main reason why he got up later than the others today.

"i don't..." he began, but before he could somehow prevent a minor annoyance that would surely have lasted into the evening, the patio doors slid open and shut just as forcefully.

spencer looked over at them, frowning at the glare of the sun.

y/n trotted hurriedly towards them, her thick-soled flip-flops making a distinctive sound with each step she took. she was wearing a slightly tight, ankle-length skirt of mesh material with a lining and a light green tank top with thin straps. in her hand was a shopping bag, which she placed between spencer's and garcia's sun loungers. her chest was rising and falling at a rhythmic but not too fast pace, which indicated she was in a hurry.

“i will never go back there again,” she declared, plopping down on the lounger where spencer was sitting. she was clearly addressing penelope, but a second later she was elbowing him in the shoulder. "where have you been all morning? the vacation book club meeting must have started without you, though i swear i fought like a lioness."

even if she wasn't quite close, he could smell her cherry mist, and when he looked a little closer, he noticed that thin strings of a bikini trailed up from underneath the tank top and tied in a bow shape at the nape of the neck. chill out a bit.

"i overslept," he stammered, wishing he was someone with a better explanation.

"oh no, is it us?" y/n looked genuinely worried. „jj and i tried to turn the music down but emily was adamant. and then we went a bit too far with the alcohol and music was the last thing on our minds."

"no, i... forgot to set my alarm clock." thought up on the spur of the moment, but y/n tilted her head slightly doubtfully.

she didn't comment on it, though, because her attention was drawn to penelope, who until then had been interested mainly in the lines of text on her kindle, now clutched it tightly to her chest and, her lips parted in excitement, leaned towards y/n.

"did it work? does the red nail theory work? answer, woman!" her eyelids were wide open and her pale cheeks flushed a little pink.

"what is the red nail theory?" spencer asked, frowning again, this time in confusion.

he was used to the fact that he didn't know much about currently pop culture and usually had to get information from team members or search the internet himself. he did it a bit more often lately, because y/n would run into the office from time to time and tell him in an emotional voice about the latest happenings in the world of celebrities that he had no idea about. but if y/n was interested, he wanted to, if only so he wouldn't stand there stock-still and nod his head in an attempt to understand.

"oh, it's such a stupid notion that if you paint your nails red, guys will stick to you like flies," she replied, as always without impatience, waving her hand dismissively, which only underlined her attitude towards the matter. spencer, however, saw the red on her fingernails.

“it's widely believed that the color red symbolizes passion, desire and, of course, love. a survey was conducted which revealed that…” spencer began, unable to resist sharing this information with her; he stopped, however, when penelope waved a kindle in front of his nose, as if to chase away a persistent insect.

"y/n! did mark make a move?!”

"who is mark?"

in his defense, it had slipped out faster than he had time to think. the tone in which garcia's question was uttered indicated that mark had already been the subject of conversations and was obviously known to someone other than y/n. that in turn meant (spencer unintentionally connected the assumption with his own suspicions) that y/n was romantically interested in someone, and probably someone — how could not — reciprocated. especially since the woman's cheeks had turned slightly pink.

spencer felt his stomach turn inside out; never thought he had any chance with y/n, but sometimes it was nice to daydream a bit. but now those dreams had become almost utopian, though earlier, he liked to tell himself, they had been possible if he hadn't been such a coward and had perhaps agreed to go to the gym with morgan.

“he's a clerk in that little shop we passed on our way here. remember, the one with the white wooden sign and the blue lettering. anyway, penelope thinks he's a muffin ready to munch, which i guess means he's relatively attractive," y/n replied again, in the same tone as before; this time, however, she didn't wave her hand, but ostentatiously rolled her eyes.

"hello? when will it be time to answer my questions?” the blonde got impatient and slid her legs off the lounger and seemed ready to pin y/n to the ground and force all the answers out of her.

y/n smiled softly (apparently the danger in garcia's eyes was no problem for her) and bent down to reach for the shopping bag at her feet. she was clearly looking for something and was knocking over the rest of her purchases as she did so, but she took her time to answer penelope.

"i'm not sure about that theory, pen. i bought you a couple of canned sodas and some magazines from the display at the back of the store, and mark was mostly looking at my boobs, not my nails. this confirmed what i had always thought of him — that he is quite a jerk. i don't know, girls, maybe you should be interested in someone valuable."

spencer lifted the corner of his mouth, the one that the others couldn't see; he didn't know the whole mark, but enjoyed the way y/n thought of him. he just didn't know who he was. he liked to think he wasn't a jerk, but he wasn't sure he was valuable either. he was curious if there was anything in between.

“this is not some husband contest, y/n. it's our carefully crafted hot girls summer," penelope reminded her, and this time she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

reid refrained from asking another question.

“then i'm afraid our hot girls summers are quite different,” y/n replied, finally pulling a few magazines out of the plastic bag and stacking them neatly on her lap, frowning in concentration. “i bought rossi another crossword puzzle because i saw him finishing the one in the morning paper. jj and emily said they didn't need anything but i bought them a gossip magazine anyway. the only thing i didn't know was what to get hotch... anyway, penelope, i didn't spend a dime on you. it's for those stupid messages you've been sending me all morning! and for your information, my inner tigress didn't pounce on a couple of ribs."

penelope moaned martyrdom, throwing her head back and returning to her previous position, turning on her kindle again. y/n didn't seem too concerned about it, in fact, not at all, and turned around a bit to face spencer. her mouth stretched into that familiar excited smile, and her cheeks seemed to still be tinted with a soft pink as the woman proudly held out to him a sealed magazine with a dvd inside.

"dr. reid, here's the second part of the documentary we started watching during this case in baltimore." her tone was high, but spencer still sensed a hint of laughter in it. “on the way back i also saw a nice restaurant that delivers orders. it's not chinese, but i don't mind indian food. you like indian food, right? i can look for something else, i think i saw something at the end of the pier...

“indian food sounds nice, y/n,” spencer said reassuringly, giving her a small smile.

it all sounded nice. it was nice to think that y/n looked at the popular science section and thought of him; about wanting to watch a nature documentary with him and eat takeout. spencer didn't want to think otherwise, and even thought that maybe all his fears about leaving weren't very rational.

"oh god, i hope you guys gonna fuck while doing this or i'll drown you in the pool..." penelope's totally serious voice broke the smiling silence between them like a knife blade.

spencer made an indistinct noise, blushing to the tips of his ears while y/n seemed extremely angry.

“you know what, pen, i'd rather fuck spencer with a documentary on africa insects running in the background than go out with all that mark. i bet he's an indebted loser who doesn't even own a boat, which would be quite derogatory given the name his shop bears." hissed y/n.

spencer felt like he was shrinking with each passing second; y/n's hand and the magazine it held were digging into his chest, and penelope's eyes shone again with a dangerous glow, which together with the accusing finger was quite a disturbing sight.

"i see! so he invited you after all!” she exclaimed, and y/n dropped the magazine from her hand, which with a rustling sound fell to his lap and arranged her hands in such a way as if she wanted to strangle the blonde.

"yes, penelope!" y/n raised her voice. “he said something like maybe we can go out together or something and i said yeah, rather not, or something and immediately left the place. are you satisfied yet?”

penelope frowned a bit and sank back into the chair with a clearly disconsolate expression. she felt a little silly, just like y/n, who tried to straighten up a bit to give herself some dignity and brushed her skirt off her knee as if there were a few crumbs there, but they weren't.

"are you sure he was looking at your boobs and not your nails?" asked penelope after a moment.

"yes."

“well, then he is indeed a loser without a boat. pity. i liked his chin."

"oh, penelope," sighed y/n and smiled slightly as the blonde did the same.

y/n bent down again to put the magazines back in the plastic bag, and spencer moved his leg slightly, hoping the tense atmosphere had just ended. he didn't quite know what he could do if things got worse. he was also pleased to hear about the reunion of mark and y/n. he hoped he'd gotten away with it and wouldn't try to be interested in her again, but at the same time he wondered what he'd do if he heard the y/n words himself. yeah, rather not, or something. it sounded like his personal hell.

"pretty girl is back!"

they looked towards the pool. morgan was walking toward them in red swimming trunks that went past his knees, arms wide open, the corner of his mouth raised dangerously. apparently the little volleyball match had just ended; hotch was disappearing inside rossi's house as jj and emily were slowly approaching them.

"so what? we are going to play the game?" morgan asked, aiming the words at the y/n.

for a brief moment, the woman's face showed surprise, but then her mouth curved into a mocking grimace.

"if i didn't know you, morgan, i'd think you liked being humiliated. sure we're playing, i just need to get changed." y/n got up from the lounger and, grabbing the shopping bag, headed for the patio doors. as she passed the morgan, she looked over her shoulder at him, whispering, "i'll destroy you."

"you wish, honey." derek snorted, but it was hard to tell if y/n had heard his words because she didn't react to them in any way.

you wish, honey. he wondered what reaction y/n would get if he called her that nickname. he wasn't very good with words and it would probably end up painfully awkward. spencer would like to be like morgan — smooth in conversation, which he was able to combine with his appearance. would like to talk to y/n per honey. or whatever y/n finds attractive.

spencer saw the woman stop by rossi and hand him a crossword puzzle book, and the man patted her hand, giving her a smile. he didn't even notice how it appeared on his face as well. y/n was good, generous and open-minded, and spencer knew he could count on her, and that other people important to him could count on her, too.

"come on reid, get ready." threw derek in his direction, waking him from his lethargy.

spencer looked at him with surprise and maybe a little fear in his eyes. after years of being near derek's desk, he was used to the little teases derek gave him — he understood that they were never intended to hurt him, and he usually brushed them off or tried to respond to them in a similar way. but he also knew that sometimes morgan couldn't keep his mouth shut, and he feared that derek's swashbuckling smirk had something to do with y/n. he didn't know what it was yet, but he sure had it.

at the same time, emily and jj also appeared, sitting together on the deckchair on the other side of penelope and smiling at them, clearly tired.

"morgan, haven't you had enough? i wouldn't mess with y/n, she's pretty good at this stuf," emily muttered, scratching her ankle. "if i were you, i wouldn't pick myself up after a second failure."

"oh yeah, she took extra classes when she was in high school." jj supported her, nodding her head.

"oh please. i gave you a head start. like the gentleman i am." derek leaned forward with his hand on his chest, and they shook their heads in amusement.

spencer was about to ask what exactly it was about when the patio doors slid open again. automatically he looked towards the terrace and involuntarily parted his lips.

for a brief moment he thought he couldn't make any sound, let alone understandable and logical words. he didn't know what made him more emotional — how pretty y/n's face looked in the two braids that were now bouncing gently with her steps, or maybe the fact that her swimsuit was really litty and even spencer's mind wasn't in the mood could prepare him for how amazing she could look in it.

it was a two-piece, bottle green. spencer could see the bindings that held the top of the suit together — the ones at the nape of his neck (which he had seen before) and moments ago when she had her back to him for two seconds, closing the door behind her, also the one on her back. in addition, on both sides of her hips there were similar, but indetachable, decorative strings.

despite his sincere wish not to think too much of her in that particular sinful way, he had to refrain from imagining a moment when he would be allowed to pull either of them.

“i was just telling a pretty boy to get ready to kick his ass,” morgan said as y/n stopped in front of them.

"you didn't mention any kicking my ass and i still don't know what you mean," spencer replied, then frowned as penelope put in something from her kindle about how she liked it when he said ass.

"oh yes." y/n grabbed the end of one of the braids and gave him an apologetic look. “so a month ago morgan saw my volleyball medals while he was helping me redecorate my bedroom and said we absolutely had to go against him because he thinks he’s totally rocking.”

"because i rock."

"anyway, this morning while you were still sleeping, i got a little competitive and got you involved too." she sounded like she was genuinely sorry, but when her gaze met derek, her tone changed completely. "so you better stretch yourself morgan or we're going to crush you completely!"

y/n shot both of her index fingers at derek, and he laughed out loud and walked off towards the pool, where the woman's narrowed eyes led him.

spencer swallowed hard and clenched his hands again on the cover of his book. it was a real disaster unfolding to the cheers of the girls as y/n started her warm-up with feigned zeal.

subconsciously, he knew that he wasn't some important part of this two-man team — y/n clearly had no plans to involve him in the game beforehand, and it probably came about as a result of everyone's familiar scuffles between her and derek. yet he felt his stomach turn inside out again as he thought about the fact that he would have to take part in a game in which he was hopeless in front of everyone else.

"y/n." the woman looked at him, with a determined expression on her face, although a moment ago she had just been training her menacing gaze under the supervision of emily, whose role of focused trainer was not going very well. "can we talk somewhere else?"

"sorry girls, we have to talk about our super tactics"

they walked to the opposite end of the pool, hearing the excited voices of the girls behind them, who were just in the process of coming up with cheering slogans. spencer felt even worse when he thought that apparently most of the team knew about the planned showdown between y/n and derek and were looking forward to it.

"the thing is, i hit in your direction and you take straight to his half and so twenty-five times..."

"y/n, i'm not good at volleyball. actually, i'm not good at any sport that requires physical exertion." he confessed, reluctantly interrupting her.

for a nanosecond, y/n's enthusiasm waned a bit, but then she frowned, confused.

"what are you talking about? i'm sure you're great. besides, you're tall!" she remarked, sending him a smile and shrugging.

"and what about it?"

"all volleyball players are tall." she shrugged again, and spencer sighed softly.

then y/n turned serious and placed her hands on his thin shoulders. even though her hands were only touching him through the gray cotton t-shirt he was wearing, spencer felt the tips of his ears turn red gradually.

the team knew about his reluctance to have close physical contact, and spencer made sure that all new people he met were also informed. he knew penelope had told y/n about it before the woman noticed him sitting at his desk, and he was grateful to her that he had missed this awkward conversation. however, spencer quickly realized that he actually doesn't mind physical contact as long as the person he's having it with is y/n.

her acts of kindness and friendship drew him into his terrible crush with each working day, and made him more and more aware of the need for her touch. he had even unconsciously searched for it, provoking occasions for his fingertips to touch hers, to pass documents, for her arm to brush against his as they walked down the not-too-wide corridor to the briefing room, and for his hand to be within reach, when one day the plugs in the office went out and it became completely dark.

he naively thought he was being discreet about it — but the team quickly noticed his lack of aversion to her touch and made jokes about it. spencer hoped that their remarks didn't reach y/n and that she didn't notice it herself — he was able to make do with whatever physical intimacy she unwittingly gave him.

however, he realized that y/n arranged the touch herself, almost on the same level as she maintained with the rest of the team.

now she was staring deep into his eyes, and reid hoped the red didn't spread to his cheeks as well.

"listen to me, spencer. i won't say it's just for fun because i'm fucking desperate to win and i'm not going to give morgan the satisfaction, but i will say that i believe your volleyball player is deep inside of you and just needs a gentle push to bring him to the surface," she whispered, which made spencer look pained.

"i'm afraid he's already there. he's floating, more precisely. because he's dead."

"you see? it's not so bad if you still have your sense of humor," she laughed, patting his shoulder, but her laughter died away as she crossed arms over her chests, leaning towards him with a worried expression. he tried not to show the disappointment of losing her hand on his body. "spencer, i can tell derek you don't want to play. i know i should have asked you first."

"what's going on there?! y/n, you can give up now!" derek leaned against the wall of his half of the field with a grin and waited for them to arrive.

they looked in his direction, but y/n quickly returned her gaze to spencer's face.

he knew that volleyball was not his strong suit. just as he knew the last thing he wanted was to humiliate himself in front of the team and, of course, in front of y/n because of it. but he noticed how excited she was. and he didn't want her to lose the sparkle in her eyes he saw when she explained their rather unreal tactics to him.

"i'll do it," he decided at last, nodding his head a few times, just in case, to confirm himself in this decision.

y/n opened her mouth in surprise and grabbed his wrist as he started towards the pool, forcing him to meet her eyes again.

"spencer, if you really don't want to, you don't have to."

"yeah, but suddenly i felt like kicking morgan's ass," he replied, though he didn't really know if he wanted to. he wanted to give her what she wanted, of that he was sure.

y/n stared at him intently, probably searching for something to contradict his words, but reid made sure his expression was convincing enough. in the end, the girl lost the fight with a huge smile, and from her chest came an excited sound like a combination of a squeak and a giggle.

"i like it when you say ass too!" she said and stole a kiss on his cheek, immediately turning on her heel and stepping into the pool.

spencer turned crimson and involuntarily raised his hand to touch his fingertips to the place where the muted pink y/n lips touched his skin. chill out a bit.

as he had predicted, he was not doing very well. emily, jj and penelope moved the sunbeds a little closer to the pool for a better view and started cheering for their team right from the start, which only distracted spencer and put even more pressure on him.

in addition, although he had suspected it for a long time, but now he was convinced of it, y/n, despite the whole package of good qualities, also had some worse ones, such as an unhealthy desire to compete and a need to be the best.

things seemed pretty stable at first — y/n let morgan go surfing first, definitely determined to win. she hit the first few throws and then ended them with a strong knockout of the ball that sprayed the water, announcing their first point. actually because of her, but y/n held up her hands for a high five as if it was a joint effort.

then there was a slight complication as derek hit the ball towards him, which spencer didn't expect at all and his bounce was too light for the ball to go over the net. y/n reassured him that everything was fine and kept playing, but spencer felt like the worst person in the world, especially since emily moaned in agony, even though that was only the first point lost (she had already taken another sip of something lemon yellow, but it wasn't lemonade and she was getting a little cranky).

y/n quickly rebounded and gained the upper hand, and spencer even managed to hit the ball a few times without sending it to the net or out of the water court. but eventually the losing streak came back and they lost points again, and a crease appeared between y/n's eyebrows that made spencer nervous.

it was twenty-two to nineteen for morgan, and the man had already indulged in a few snide comments. y/n with obvious impatience somehow made the ball finally hit the water on morgan's side and passed the ball to spencer with a serious expression.

reid liked it a lot better when he wasn't closer to the pool walls, and didn't get a few stressful stares on his shoulders while he was surfing, especially since he'd hit the ball out of court way too often. in addition, now he was sure that if he repeated it, he would hear a martyrdom moan not from emily's lips, but from y/n. then he would allow himself a small humiliating drowning.

he sighed softly, rolling the ball over in his hand. the kids at his school bounced it hard on the floor to give it a better bounce. spencer couldn't do that now, and he wasn't really sure if the tactic worked. every time he was in this place, he thought about how what he was best at would help him. however, there was not enough time to mess with physics.

he hit the ball down, grimacing, just in case.

however, contrary to his expectations, the ball went over the net and began to fall within the pool area, not on the stone path outside it.

out of the corner of his eye, he saw the corner of y/n's mouth twitch slightly upwards. the ends of her braids were wet with chlorinated water and dripping drops; spencer, wanting to preserve what little dignity he had, held back with all his might lest his gaze fall a little lower, where the drops ran down her skin and into the hollow between her breasts. he also judiciously ignored the fact that the soaked fabric of her bikini clung to her body, which seemed to reflect the sun's rays and seemed to glisten slightly. plus, her…

he couldn't say exactly what had happened, but he knew that one moment he was watching the y/n body moving in slow motion, and the next he was bended in half, feeling a dizzying, sharp pain shoot through his head. he remembered holding his hands to his face, feeling his nose twitch as still as a cartoon character who had just rung a big bell, and there was sudden chaos around him; several voices rose in surprise, someone close to him shouted his name, and the water around him surged, pushing him against the pool wall. he also felt something drip onto his fingers.

"god, spencer!" delicate, wet yet warm hands brushed uncertainly over his still veiled face, and spencer recognized the terrified y/n in that voice.

"dude, now you've got nothing left!"

"seriously, derek?!" y/n was furious, but when she turned to him again, her voice was soft but still nervous. "spencer, look at me. everything's all right?! pass the towel! rossi, go get the keys, we're going to the hospital! may be broken!"

the nose wasn't broken. which spencer knew as soon as he managed to get his questions answered from the panic-stricken team. no one noticed the swelling, and no hematomas appeared under his eyes; the profuse bleeding that y/n was trying to stop with more and more tissues, and the pain he felt didn't have to be signs of a fracture, though they could. the team wasn't going to take his word for it anyway, and hotch, though the most composed of the group, was firmly pressing on the accelerator.

spencer, apart from feeling like everything was spinning around him from time to time, he felt a bit overwhelmed; there was too much noise around him — his friends were arguing about who was to blame for his accident, y/n had her hand over his face (although he assured her he could still hold a few tissues) and was squeezing his hand tight, increasing the pressure when she was responding to morgan.

when they got to the hospital, and the doctor finally treated their panicked group, he only confirmed what spencer had suspected all along. he didn't even have a concussion, and this disturbingly profuse hemorrhage was caused by the rupture of a larger vessel. recommended ice packs and rest. something spencer could prescribe for himself.

they back to rossi's house in a slightly less nervous mood, though y/n didn't speak to derek, who had repeatedly apologized not only to spencer but also to her. y/n, however, seemed adamant and still preoccupied with the situation. spencer suspected she felt guilty because she had talked him into it, after all, though he had mentioned to her once or twice that it was nothing and that all symptoms would be gone by tonight.

as they crossed the threshold of the house, three waiting heads appeared from behind the living room wall, and again there was a din of explaining everything to the rest of the team, who had to stay because of emily's tip. spencer finally managed to get out of their company and quickly disappeared into his room before anyone noticed him.

from that moment on, two hours passed, which spencer spent lying motionless with an ice pack against his face. he stared at the ceiling and multiplied every now and then the number of panels on the floor. there was an eerie silence downstairs, and spencer wondered if everything was all right down there.

he was about to decide to get out of bed and go downstairs when there were two single knocks against his door. he called the person inside, and after a while a y/n head appeared.

"i have a bowl for your used ice pack and your book you left on the sun lounger," she said softly, smiling, seemingly slightly confused.

"come in," he replied, just as quietly, though there was no reason for them to communicate that way.

the previously awkward y/n grimace turned into her beautiful smile as she slipped inside, closing the door behind her. she was clutching his book to her chest and in the other hand she was holding the purple plastic bowl spencer had seen in the kitchen cupboard this morning.

he involuntarily smiled as he thought of how y/n reminded him of a small child who had just managed to sneak into a friend's room despite the watchful eyes of his parents — she jumped on his bed, then sat cross-legged and sighed heavily as spencer pulled the compress away from his face, to put it in the bowl.

"is it that bad?" he joked, raising his eyebrows to which y/n snorted mockingly.

"you don't even know how much. you look exactly the same!” she laughed as she placed the bowl with compress on the bedside table by spencer's bed. to do so, she had to lean over him, and this time the scent of her floral shampoo and mango lotion filled his nostrils; she must have taken a shower afterwards because he couldn't smell the chlorine on her. however, when y/n returned to her seat, her expression became a little more serious. "how do you feel? i know everyone asked you this way too many times already, but i'm really worried."

"much better. i think i've stopped feeling that throbbing pain, although that may just be because of the ice," he replied, smiling slightly. "and hey, you don't have to worry so much about it. i already told you it's okay and it's not your fault."

"yeah, but still. i don't know what we'd do if you slashed that pretty face."

spencer frowned as if he disliked her words, but y/n just laughed again. in fact, he had already wondered a few times if the fact that y/n called him pretty boy, like morgan, meant anything at all. a large number of voices in his head said that this was just another habit that the girl had picked up from derek, as she had done in the case of throwing balls of paper into the garbage cans. however, there was a part that made spencer's cheeks a little pink when he heard those words come out of her mouth. sometimes hearing it from her was completely different than hearing it from anyone else.

"yeah, morgan has already pointed that out," he said finally, feeling it had to be done.

it seems like y/n was just waiting for spencer to mention morgan because she suddenly gasped and jumped up on the mattress, frowning.

“you know, i was joking now, but it really pissed me off at the time! i was terrified because i had never seen so much blood while doing anything other than catching serial killers, and i thought it could end up much worse than a broken nose. and derek didn't care at all!" y/n's hands engaged the aggressive gesticulation mode that appeared on the horizon when she was really high. "i was so furious with him! and his irritating taunts on the way to the hospital!”

"what taunts?" he asked, confused.

of course he was aware that y/n and morgan had spent the entire drive to the hospital arguing, with garcia joining in from time to time, now trying to get them to agree, now putting in her two cents as if she couldn't hold back any longer. at the time, however, he was too preoccupied with his bleeding nose and maybe a little y/n touch as well to notice what exactly their heated discussion was about.

"never mind, suitably stupid for his level," y/n grunted, blushing unexpectedly and tucking her hair behind her ear, though not a strand fell to her cheek. “anyway, i had a bit of an argument with him, and now i feel a little guilty about him because, i have to admit, i went a bit too far. but i won't apologize to him so he doesn't think about it too much."

"but you'll reconcile, won't you? it would be a bit awkward if you won't," he murmured, partly to her, partly to himself.

before y/n could answer, however, the door swung open timidly after three hasty knocks. derek morgan's head looked inside, as if the man was well aware that they were talking about him and decided to intervene. however, there was a swashbuckling smile on his lips, the kind you couldn't be angry at.

"hey hey..." he crooned, smiling even wider. "how it's going?"

"how it should?" y/n answered the question with a question, annoyance evident in her voice. "he almost got a concussion."

"not at all," spencer interjected, but he was ignored by each of them.

"i'm sorry mom, it won't happened again," derek replied, making y/n utter an exasperated sigh. morgan walked in even though no one had actually invited him and approached them with a mysterious plastic bag in his hand. “penelope gave me a hint so i could think of a way to finally settle the conflict, and here it is: the chinese you obviously love. appreciate my efforts, pretty girl, they had to bring her from another town.”

"then i guess the thanks go to the supplier, mr. morgan," y/n noticed, and spencer saw that there was an amused sparkle behind the sternness of her gaze. the girl accepted the takeaway, much to morgan's satisfaction, and arranged it beside her. "nice of you. i stopped being mad at you about an hour and a half ago, but it's still cool."

morgan reached out to flick her nose and y/n slapped it, laughing loudly.

spencer, sitting with his legs stretched forward, leaned against the back of his wooden bed, watching their interaction. with displeasure he felt a nasty jealousy sprouting in his stomach; something about the sight of their casual touch, each of them knowing that this quarrel and the words that accompanied it had no meaning, made him almost see the green covering his fingers. and they had done it all right in front of him.

spencer laughed mentally. he was really pathetic — morgan and y/n were friends. and y/n still wasn't going to consider him, even if he got punched in the nose.

"oh, dude. i'd like to get punched in the nose too if it meant y/n would look after me," morgan sighed dreamily, turning to spencer, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"i'll take care of you too, morgan, if that's what you want. but before that, i'll give you a nose so we'll have one reason," y/n replied, causing the man to chuckle in an amused tone as he backed away towards the door.

"okay, i understand, i'm leaving now. have fun, kids," he said, then disappeared through the heavy door.

y/n shook her head, turning her body towards spencer. her silken hair, which had been braided since spencer had first laid eyes on her that afternoon, now fell over her shoulders, which were no longer covered by the t-shirt she had thrown on in a hurry as everyone ran around rossi's living room, occasionally catching spencer's shoulder, as if to reassure themselves that he was still standing there. she was wearing something a lot more elegant now, which belied spencer's idea that she had already showered. in that case, she'd already be wearing her yellow turtleneck pajamas, which spencer raised his eyebrows at the first time they had to share a room during the case.

instead of yellow turtles, reid saw a plain, rather thin, black shirt tucked into denim shorts. and it didn't look like a sleep suit. but actually spencer shouldn't be interested in that.

pushing those tactless thoughts away, he reached out for the plastic bag morgan had brought them.

it was filled with distinctive boxes, the sharp edges of which pushed the plastic bag apart, and the smell that wafted from them despite the paper reminded spencer of all those late nights spent with y/n in hotel rooms, during which the television was told by a weary voice about the life of individual species, and the woman was in the so close to him that her shoulder touched his. he only liked the smell for those memories.

y/n leaned over with interest to look at the bag as well. spencer realized after a short while that the girl's forehead was not far from his, and a little surprised by the sudden closeness, he lifted his head to look at her. y/n did the same, feeling his burning gaze on her and smiled softly without breaking eye contact.

for a brief moment, he felt as if there was absolutely nothing else around them. there were only y/e/c y/n irises, her lightly freckled nose that was to blame for the sun, and her pink lips. lips he would love to kiss. or even brush his own lips.

but before he opened it to say anything that might lead to that, his bedroom door groaned heavily, as it did when it was opened very slowly. they pulled away from each other almost immediately, turning their heads in their direction. spencer, for an irrational moment, even thought that hotch might be behind them, about to lead him out of his own room by the ear like a rascal of the worst kind. jesus, spencer, he reminded himself, you're a grown man. if you want to kiss a woman, you will.

however, it wasn't hotch's head that emerged from behind the door, but emily, who didn't seem as frisky as she had been a few hours ago. she eyed each of them and walked inside to the accompaniment of expectant silence from them.

"are you guys kissing?" she asked after a moment, an excited smile on her face as she tilted her head slightly.

"what? no!" spencer thought y/n seemed pretty flustered considering the fact that their faces were inches apart just moment ago and she was clearly trying to pretend that none of this had happened. well, nothing that spencer wasn't prepared for.

"say what you want. reid looks like a ripe tomato."

spencer choked on his own saliva, drawing the women's attention, and his hand immediately reached for the glass on his nightstand, which was half full of water.

"i-it's a compress." he wanted to somehow explain what his face looked like, but no one, including himself, seemed convinced (and the water had been standing here since last night and tasted bad).

"of course…"

"i thought you were going to look for a club," y/n put in a quick, drawing emily's attention back to her.

"because we're going. i just came to drop it off." emily held out a sealed magazine to her friend, in which reid recognized a nature documentary. "what a shame you're not going. it's always more fun with you."

"you'll be fine without me," she replied y/n, getting out of bed and walking over to the small TV set in the corner of the room. she sat down in front of the cabinet he was standing on and began unpacking the magazine with a concentrated frown. "thanks, emily. just don't overdo it this time, okay? you've already had a drink today."

"boredom!" the dark-haired woman dragged out the first syllable, grabbing the doorknob. "you talking like jj! i'm leaving before you infect me with your innocence!"

emily had indeed disappeared through the bedroom door, and after a while the sound of her heels could be heard as they left the floor in a hurry.

there was a silence in the room, one that y/n would surely describe as safely comfortable; such silences sometimes happened between them when they were filling out paperwork at their desks, sharing dried fruit (y/n loved dried apples, a fact spencer consciously remembered) when they were sitting side by side on the jet, sharing headphones because y/n wanted to show him her current musical obsession, or when they sat on the benches outside the office building during their lunch break and ate their breakfasts. they were good silences. and maybe that silence would be good too if spencer's brain wasn't working at full capacity. all the information he had gathered in the last dozen or so minutes was quite plausible.

"a penny for your thoughts, doctor," hummed y/n as she focused on pressing buttons on the rossi player; it was one of the more expensive ones, because it not only read vhs tapes, but also dvds. "i can hear them even from this distance."

"it's nothing, it's just... i wonder why you don't go out with girls," he replied after a moment's hesitation.

from his seat on the bed, he could see y/n's eyebrows frown a bit, but he wasn't sure if it was because of her ignorance about using the player or because of his words.

"i was about to go, i even let penelope rummage through my suitcase," she confessed. the player finally listened to her and slid out the dvd drive, where a disc with a nature documentary soon landed. “but i thought about the first day of our trip that i spent watching some action movie with morgan, and yesterday i got drunk with the girls. we miss each other a bit, don't you think? and today, when we finally did something together, you ended up in the hospital. so we'll lighten our spirits with some fun-facts about the insects of africa. how about that, doctor?"

spencer smiled weakly as y/n looked over her shoulder at him. now he felt even worse than when morgan had hit him with the volleyball — it all sounded to him as if y/n had decided to sacrifice a girls' night out of guilt and resentment for spending time with him.

“y/n, you should go out with the girls. it will probably be much more interesting than here with me,” he said finally, but as the words hung between them, he didn't feel any easier than he'd expected, and even harder. especially since y/n looked over her shoulder at him again, her brows heavily furrowed.

"you're kidding? i'd much rather eat chinese and watch a nature documentary with you than walk emily home drunk." she shook her head as if he had said the stupidest thing she had heard in a long time; the TV brightened up and showed the output page of the document. "by the way... we haven't watched anything together lately... i missed it."

"you miss it?" he stammered, perhaps a little too surprised in a voice judging by the way y/n was clearly confused, blushing.

“well, yes… i have the impression that this is our little tradition. you know, something that's only ours. i can't imagine morgan watching nature documents with us, because who would you whisper additional information into the ear first?” she asked, involuntarily laughing softly.

she got up off the floor, holding the remote in her right hand as she turned off the light with her left. the room went dark, and spencer swallowed hard, seeing the figure of y/n slowly approaching him, crouching by the nightstand to flick the light switch.

the light, dimmed by the lampshade, was a soft red that spread over the walls of the room. spencer felt like y/n had never looked so beautiful, and at the same time he felt the tension in the air.

"it's cool, i like it," whispered y/n, sitting tentatively on the edge of the mattress, near his hips. "but you've been acting weird lately and we stopped doing that."

"weird?" he repeated, frowning. god, he wanted so badly to place his hands behind her ear at that moment and pull her to him; he wanted the moment before emily came back.

“you stopped talking to me, starting conversations on your own and all. i felt like i was the only one trying. every time i walked into the room you and the team stopped talking and all eyes were on me. i don't need to be a profiler to know you were talking about me. but everyone said it wasn't about me, so i guess i let it go a bit and tried not to think about it too much, but it still wasn't the same between us." as she spoke, y/n kept her head down and didn't seem to want to look up at him. "i thought you'd come to my room when we had a case in chester like always, but you didn't. and not later either. and later too. and you acted like nothing happened. plus, it really annoyed me that you stared at me without saying a word, and when i asked what was going on, you said it was nothing, but then you did it again."

y/n jumped out of bed, crossing her arms over her chest. she also began pacing in a characteristic way, as if in thought. her eyes roamed all the furniture she could find, but finally fixed her gaze on him.

"okay, am i exaggerating? i feel like i kind of did, and now i've said all those things and i feel really stupid…”

"no!" spencer raised his voice a little more than was necessary. he sprang up from the mattress, tired of the thought that the woman might think that the matter they were discussing was not important to him. "i…"

"stay still, the doctor said you might get dizzy," y/n interrupted him as she approached him.

"i'm not dizzy," he replied, but y/n had already reached out to him, as if to gently push him towards the bed.

"lie down," she insisted, but without much thought spencer grabbed her hands and lowered them to the level of their hips.

"no, listen to me. i'm sorry i've been acting this way lately," he said, and when he finally realized he was holding y/n's hands firmly, he let go a bit, but not too much; so that he can still touch her warm skin. “i… i was avoiding you a bit because the whole trip was so stressful and i started thinking too much and it influenced my behavior, but…

"stressful? why?"

"because... it's so stupid." he ran his hand through his hair, but his dark strands fell over his forehead anyway; it made him even angrier. “the thing is, i realized we'd start spending time together outside of work, and then you'd see i'm the same spencer from the office when i'm not at the office. and then you'll realize what a boring person i am and you won't want to hang out with me anymore. and i... i like you, y/n. i like you so much that i'm afraid of losing you because of me."

y/n frowned worriedly, tilting her head slightly. for a brief moment she stared at a point on his shoulder, as if searching for the right words. spencer, on the other hand, was feeling more and more nauseous as it dawned on him that perhaps the words he'd used shouldn't have been spoken to his friends, even though they sneakily sounded appropriate.

"well..." y/n sighed, leading him back to the mattress where they sat next to each other. spencer anticipated the worst and was slowly starting to feel like the biggest fool. he had a big mouth and always talked too much, everyone told him so. "i guess it's good that you're still spencer from the office when you're out of the office, right? because i wouldn't want you to be anyone else."

he looked at her and the woman smiled softly, still holding his hand.

"and you're not boring and i can't believe you think that of yourself! you're the most interesting person i know," she assured. “you are the only person in my circle of friends with whom i can watch all the movies in the world, because there is a 99% chance that you will be able to translate dialogues for me fluently! and the only one who can read and summarize the book i forgot to read for my book club, and i didn't have to be an ignorant who doesn't know anything about "pride and prejudice."

“you got all the threads with mr. darcy mixed up anyway,” he reminded her, smiling at the memory.

"i know and that's why i don't go there anymore!" y/n laughed as well, her shoulders trembling slightly.

even now he could picture in his mind the moment y/n walked into the office, heading without thinking to his desk with an expression of pure horror and embarrassment. half laughing, half almost crying, she related to him a meeting of her book club she had started attending. she told him how she got everything mixed up and made a fool of herself in front of the young women. she also didn't hesitate to mention how she drank wine in large gulps until the end of the meeting, and yet she was the first to run out of katy's apartment.

he felt y/n squeeze his hand a little tighter and looked at it again. the nausea he was feeling subsided a bit and he even started laughing at his panicked fantasies — it was y/n; the kind, always natural, and generous y/n who could never think of him that way.

“look, i know who you are may seem boring to you, but to me, you're the coolest person i've ever met in my life. and the nicest. i still remember how you remembered my birthday when others forgot. and when you brought me soup when i was sick. and i had two soups, because my mother had already brought one. you remember all the little things i tell you. that i prefer coffee with caramel syrup over maple syrup. that in 7th grade i fell out of a tree and have a scar on my knee which i'd rather you forget because derek still teases me." their soft laughs echoed through the room again. "you're the best spencer.

"thanks," he whispered.

so that's what it was supposed to be. misunderstandings and inaccuracies are resolved, y/n will finally choose one of the options that were displayed on the screen of a small TV and spend the next hour side by side eating chilled food from a chinese restaurant. it wasn't something spencer would have hoped for if his earlier speech had been worded better, but something he expected when he said what he had to say. but that was fine. he learned to enjoy the little things.

but suddenly he felt y/n fingers under his chin, directing his gaze back to her face. they were so close it hurt.

"and you'll never lose me, spencer. you can't get rid of me that easily," she said, also in a whisper. "i'm like a venereal disease."

spencer frowned.

"it was a disgusting comparison."

"i know, sorry."

"y/n," he whispered, never taking his eyes off the deep hue of her irises that scanned his face.

"yeah?"

he swallowed once more, hoping that the remnants of courage didn't run down his esophagus as well. he wasn't sure and couldn't be, but maybe this was the moment he should have heeded morgan and penelope and emily and jj and rossi and hotch...

"when i said i like you, i meant that..."

"i know, spencer." y/n smiled softly, and spencer had the impression that her face was a little closer than it had been two seconds before. "and guess what... i like you too."

spencer cursed mentally and, sliding his hand into y/n's hair, pulled her even closer to him.

the kiss was a bit tentative at first, and a terrifying thought crossed his mind that perhaps he had been in too much of a hurry and had misread some of the signals — he had done that all too often, after all, and the y/n words might have had nothing to do with what he was saying, with what spencer thought they had. y/n, however, returned the kiss, giving it a new pace for it, tangling her fingers in his hair. then reid realized he had stopped thinking about anything.

all that mattered at that moment was the taste of y/n cherry lip gloss, her hands on his neck, and soon his arms and chest as she climbed onto his lap. spencer thought it was too much — her scent filled his nostrils, completely befuddled him, her hands craving for closeness tracing every curve of his body, making him dizzy — and at the same time he felt that he needed more.

he lifted the hand he'd been resting on the mattress and ran it over y/n's bare thigh, not sure if he was allowed to do it. her skin was smooth, warm and cool at the same time, and spencer wanted to know how other parts of her body felt. y/n smiled through the kiss, reaching for his wandering hand, which she then placed on her hip.

spencer took it a step further and moved her down her back to pull her closer to him. he wanted to be as close to her as possible, possibly even absorb himself into her, if that meant he would always feel the way he did now.

y/n moved her kisses to his cheek, jaw, and behind his ear, where she sucked his skin. spencer moaned softly, surprised, and the girl with a smile headed towards his neck, biting it with kisses.

"thank god penelope left the house," y/n mumbled into his skin, saying the words in between caresses. “she probably would have said her i knew it! or didn't i tell you?!"

spencer pulled back slightly, mouth parting speechless. he remembered perfectly well what penelope had said when he heard that they were going to watch a nature documentary, and now his mind, despite being completely distracted by this unexpected situation, connected the dots — the movie was on but still not quite and the y/n slowly starting to rubbing his hips — coming to an unequivocal conclusion.

"are we going to…?" the unfinished question hung in the air, making y/n's eyes widen.

"what? no! not if you don't want to!” she assured quickly, blushing furiously. “but we can if you want… but we don't have to do anything! kissing is cool too. we don't even have to kiss…"

"no!" he protested, straightening up a bit, for he had been leaning more on the mattress on his elbows than actually sitting on it. "no, i want to. i want… everything,” he whispered, much quieter now, slightly ashamed of his apparent need. after thinking about it, he added, "please?"

y/n's face stretched into his favorite kind of smile, and the woman leaned toward him once more, causing spencer to return to his previous position. out of the corner of his eye, he saw her hand reach for the TV remote. without breaking eye contact with him, she hit the play button and pulled him into a kiss as the documentary began.

spencer felt like he was about to pass out.

"jesus, you're so cute i could bite your nose if it didn't end well," she said, making him snort in amusement.

"what?" he asked, but y/n just laughed along with him and reached for the buttons on her shirt, slowly unbuttoning it, while kissing him.

spencer never in his wildest dreams would have thought that he could be right here — under the thighs of the most beautiful girl who, he was sure, would never look at him the way y/n was now sizing him up, exposing more and more naked patches of her skin. he breathed heavily, stroking the skin of her thighs as she slid off the black fabric. he didn't know exactly where he had landed, actually, he didn't know much at the moment. his iq didn't matter anymore, he was just a jerk who stared captivated at y/n's swimsuit-covered breasts, his mouth slightly parted and his gaze absent.

"something's wrong?" a soft y/n voice cut through his not very coherent thoughts and distracted him from the dark green fabric where the nipples poked through.

"no," he replied firmly, propping himself up on his elbows a bit to bring his lips closer to hers. "you're just beautiful."

he kissed her hard, feeling y/n lift the corners of his mouth, and his hand, previously resting on her leg, moved up to the woman's back, where the strings of her swimsuit brushed the nape of her neck.

904 notes · View notes

cottonlemonade · 1 month

Text

Making Up After A Fight

word count: 756 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Oikawa x chubby!Reader

genre: angst with happy ending

warnings: none, just Oikawa being hard on himself and insecure

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Oikawa hates fighting as much as you do.

But sometimes it was inevitable. His training schedule had been crazy, the coach had scolded him for putting too much pressure on his bad knee and he was frustrated with himself for delivering, as he thought, disappointing performances on the court lately.

And unfortunately, you were the best girlfriend through all of this. Something he should be happy about, but like many times before it just made him realize that he didn't deserve you.

He couldn't give you the time he wanted. He wished more than anything that you would just tell him how disappointed you were in the relationship and in him, for not being good enough, there enough, doting enough - he hated it. He hated every second, because he knew that when he got to his phone at the end of training, a sweet and loving message would wait for him, saying that you missed him. You would have maybe sent a picture of something cute that reminded you of him during your day or suggested something to do together on his next day off. It was infuriating that you never blamed him for not being the boyfriend he should be.

So it came as no surprise that one night after practice, when he was over at your place, he snapped. He just arrived, took off his shoes and smelled the lovely home cooked meal that was simmering on the stove. You came to greet him, smiling tiredly but genuinely happy to see him and he couldn't take it anymore. He started yelling and gesturing, asking you why you even bothered with him, told you how you weren't right for him, that you made him feel like garbage, turned on his heels, grabbed his shoes and left.

You stood in the doorway of your kitchen, not knowing, not understanding what had just happened but you also knew that he had never yelled at you before. Ever. Sure you'd seen him frustrated and stressed but even then his outbursts were never directed at you. Not like this.

Tears started to fill your eyes. You grabbed your phone, wanting to call him, had already one arm in your jacket to go after him, but decided against it.

The phone in your hand buzzed but it was only a text from your friend asking about your day. You typed a nondescript reply, not wanting them to worry and promised to call tomorrow.

Now only silence filled your apartment. Silence and the taunting smell of an untouched dinner.

You paced a while up and down your living room, throwing tentative glances through your window to see if you could maybe spot him on the dark street below. But nothing.

You started several messages to Tooru but deleted them before hitting send - none of them sounded right.

Not knowing what else to do, you put the now cold dinner into the fridge, took a shower and headed to bed, unable to stop more tears rolling onto the pillow.

You heard the front door unlock at around 1 am, but didn't know if you just imagined it in your half sleep state.

A soft knock came from your bedroom door. You weren’t exactly in the mood to talk, so you stayed quiet. Another soft knock and the door opened slowly. For the longest moment Oikawa just stood in the doorway, looking at your, he assumed, sleeping form.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes and then shrugged off his jacket to sit on the bed. Slowly, carefully, he laid down behind you, moving closer to wrap his arm around your soft waist.

"Are you awake?", he murmured.

You shifted slightly to show him you were.

"I'm really sorry.", he whispered gingerly into the crook of your neck, "You did absolutely nothing wrong, I promise. It's just with the training and my screw ups at the last match and you have been so great about it all and-"

You heard his throat closing up as he nuzzled closer to you, "I really don't know how you put up with it. I'm never around, I never have time to do normal couple stuff, I mess up your sleep schedule and you never complain. I feel horrible."

You finally turn around to face him. "Well, I am mad at you now, if that makes you feel better."

He had to chuckle through his tears and bit his lip, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. "I love you, darling."

You snuggled into his chest and entwined your fingers with his. "I love you, too."

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#oikawa x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #oikawa angst #haikyuu angst #oikawa fluff #haikyuu fluff #oikawa x reader #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tooru #hq oikawa #chubby reader

215 notes · View notes

blue-jisungs · 1 year

Text

giving them flowers ♡

a/n. recently i bought my mom flowers and it made her so happy :”) i’m gonna have to do it more but meanwhile lemme imagine my fav boys getting some flowers they deserve 🤭

and before we move on here’s a bouquet you you as well, my lovely reader 💐💐💐💐

┆彡 CHAN [ 찬 ]

shy flustered chan = heart attack

from all of the things he did not expect you to give him flowers

at first his life is flashing before his eyes though because he thought he forgot about something

“knock knock!” you giggled and knocked at the door and when chan hummed softly, you opened them widely “hello, lover boy!”

chan turned his head towards you, pushing the headphones over to his neck. you watched his eyes widen in shock, glued to the beautiful flower bouquet you were holding in your hands.

“what’s that?” he chuckled and you stepped closer, placing a tender kiss on his forehead.

“those are flowers. for my very talented boyfriend” you grinned and handed him the bouquet. chan was frozen, staring at the colorful flowers in his hands with cheeks dusted pink.

“i… woah. i’m speechless, y/n, but what did i do to deserve them?” chan chuckled gently and looked at you. he noticed your features softening, grin melting into a sweet smile.

“you exist” you nodded and pressed a kiss onto his forehead, his heart banging against his rib cage a little too hard.

he brags about the flowers literally everywhere and to everyone – on live, bubble, to kids… even send a pic to his parents :”)

if he could he would keep them forever!! but he puts them in a pretty vase and takes care of them oh so tenderly <3

┆彡 MINHO [ 민호 ]

his eyes will go wide and ears as red as a tomato!!!

(even though you gifted all of his mc friends flowers, his heart is still fluttering)

he’s clearly taken aback but obviously he’ll act like it’s nothing

but you know better (and you’ll let him think that you don’t)

to be frank, lee know didn’t know it was you until he heard your voice.

“you all did amazing today!” you chirped and hoped it was minho, jungwoo and minju since yin couldn’t see them – maybe carrying three big bouquets wasn’t the smartest move.

“y/n? what are you–” minju giggled and suddenly you felt the flowers being took over. minho was looking at you, stunned, as minju and jungwoo admired the flowers.

“well i thought i’ll give you flowers. being an mc isn’t easy!” you grinned and handed the bouquet that stayed in your arms to minho. he blinked slowly, ears turning red. you sent him a warm smile.

“oh wow, y/n. i’m jealous, you’re such a great girlfriend” jungwoo joked and slightly pushed minho towards you, gesturing minju to go somewhere else and give you some time alone.

“those are really pretty” minho mumbled, looking at you “you didn’t have to, though”

you rolled your eyes and quickly pecked his cheek.

they will post a selca of them holding the flowers

stays will be pointing out how wildly lee know is grinning but only you knew the truth <3

expect to receive flowers the other day because it’s just his way of saying thank you 🥹

┆彡 CHANGBIN [ 창빈 ]

i am praying for you because that man will not let you live peacefully

by that i mean he’s constantly on your shoulder, cooing and whining his cute you are and how much you love him so that you gave him flowers

for like a WEEK

but honestly he just got such a buzz o as energy and love and just good vibes, he loves you sm :(

“oh! what’s that?!” you can hear changbin’s gasp when you enter the dorm, flowers in your hand.

“for you!” you grin and his jaw drops in shock as he sprints to you

“flowers?! for me?! aigoo, y/n you’re such a cutie, my heart can’t handle that!”changbin whines and dramatically drops to his knees, grabbing his heart. you laugh at his actions and help him stand up

“here, sniff them” you hand him the flowers and he takes a deep breath.

“they smell pretty! aish, y/n…” bin giggles and places a messy peck in your cheek only to sniff the flowers again with a grin.

even though he doesn’t know much about plant care, he tries his best

treasures the bouquet like his life depended on it 🥹🥹

┆彡 HYUNJIN [ 현진 ]

be honest, do you want him dead?

this man’s poor cannot survive this

YOU got HIM flowers because they reminded you of HIM

dead.

“jinnie, close your eyes!” you shout once you arrive home and he does, a goofy smile on his face. his mind races like crazy to figure out what did you do this time… but then he hears a soft ruffle and your hands grabbing his, then putting something in them.

“can i open them now?” he asks and you chuckle, letting out a quiet yes. as soon as his eyes meet the flowers, his features soften “huh?”

“when i was walking home i noticed a new flower shop opened! i saw those and they reminded me of you so i just had to buy them…” you mumbled and hyunjin hugged you tightly, heart almost ripping from his chest.

“y/n… you’re an angel” he murmured against your skin, not able to control the smile that grew on his lips

takes the pics with the flowers and of the flowers, posts them e v e r y w h e r e

he also painted them, using watercolours and hung the drawing in your living room – so even when the flowers sadly die out, he can still look at them <3

┆彡 JISUNG [ 지성 ]

he thought he did something… or didn’t do. or forgot to do something. or maybe you did something–

so yeah, you kind of gave him a heart attack

but once the realisation sets in, you have a melting quokka on the floor

literally.

“what’s… what… huh?” han is stuttering the second he sees those beautiful flowers in your hands. you giggle and peck his cheek as a greeting and then hand him the flowers. but he doesn’t take them yet.

“it’s for you!” you grin and he blinks twice, thrice… just to suddenly slide from his chair, his hoodie riding up and covering his face “what?”

“you… you bought me flowers?” jisung murmurs, now fully laying on the floor.

“yes, i did” you laugh, causing him to smile.

“i thought i forgot about anniversary or you did something– but woah, y/n they are so pretty” jisung sighs dreamily, sitting up and taking a sniff while looking at you with a cheesy smile on his lips. 3… 2… 1… “you’re prettier tho–”

you smack his arm jokingly and join him on the floor.

the boys tease him because he is WHIPPED!!!

but he doesn’t care, he just loves you too much and isn’t afraid to show it :”)

┆彡 YONGBOK [ 용복 ]

he almost kissed you to death

he finds it the most heart warming thing you’ve ever done and just melts on the spot

“hi baby!” you chirp happily, felix’s eyes widening as soon as he saw you backstage.

“hi, angel! what are you doing here?” he trailed off as he noticed the big, pretty bouquet in your hand. you smiled and gave him the flowers, ruffling his hair.

“i just wanted to congratulate on the sound, that’s all. hopefully the boys won’t be offended i didn’t give them flowers…” you giggled and yongbok’s cheeks dusted pink, heart rate speeding.

“they’re for me? oh… oh wow. you really want me dead, do you? you’re so adorable…” felix murmured and gently put the flowers away only to attack your face with kisses.

he could buy you (and will if you keep doing that) all the flowers in the world 🥹

as much as he loves his friends, he’s feeling superior because his girlfriend gave him flowers <3

┆彡 SEUNGMIN [ 승민 ]

oh seungmo ☹️

obviously he’ll act like he doesn’t care

a soft groan greets you and you can’t help but smile at the sleepy state your boyfriend is in.

“why did it take you so long?” he murmurs and stops in his tracks upon noticing the fresh flowers in your hands “oh”

“exactly, oh” you giggle and put the bag with snacks you bought on the kitchen counter and then hand him the flowers “these are for you”

“for me?” he asks in disbelief, rubbing his eyes.

“mhm. from the flower shop you bought me flowers when we went on our date” you grin and ruffle his hair. leaving the room to take off your coat and shoes peacefully, seungmin punches a pillow that’s nearby with a heart racing at inhuman pace.

he feels so fuzzy and sick with the love ugh 🙄🙄

the boys will ask him about the flowers but he’ll ignore the comments, murmuring something underneath his breath

(something meaning “you’re just jealous”)

┆彡 JEONGIN [ 정인 ]

literally goes :D

he loves u sm his heart is about to explode fr

if he could he would hide you in his pocket and never let go

jeongin was wondering what took you so long. sure, it started raining but you texted him you’re almost home like five minutes ago. he looked outside the window and that’s when the doorbell rang, causing him to jog excitedly to the door.

“come on in, i’ll make you some tea! what’s that?” he asked curiously when you entered the room, absolutely soaked with flowers in your hand.

“they looked so pretty i couldn’t resist. that’s why i was late” you breathed out, looking at the wet bouquet “sorry it’s… well, wet. do you have a vase?”

“wait, it’s for me?” jeongin’s mouth fell apart. you nodded with a grin and he hugged you tightly, almost crushing the flowers while doing so “aish? y/n! you’re such a cutie!”

then he leaned away and squeezed your cheeks. at least you warmed up a bit.

he’s watching over them like they’re his babies :(

also expect to be gifted a 3x bigger bouquet because he just loves you so much

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinhobi ,, @jung0ne ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @moonacholy ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddenoudepression ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan

#skz fluff #skz bang chan #skz jeongin #skz minho #seungmin skz #skz han #skz hyunjin #skz felix #skz changbin #skz scenarios #skz reactions #skz imagines #skz soft hours #stray kids imagine #skz x reader

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tiyoin · 1 month

Note

Now I'm thinking about twisted anxiety reader being able to sing really well. I feel like there could be some very interesting/funny moments (4 us not reader).

Reader probably only sings in a reclusive area like a forest around the dorm

I wanna say that the forest already has haunting rumors about it ,and when someone (jade or rook) hears reader singing they think that the "ghost" is up and active again. So students start doing a "test of courage" type thing.

I put Jade or Rook being the one to hear reader cuz they're really the only ones that would really be in that area without a reason.

I also know they're intelligent enough to know it's not a ghost ,but start the rumor anyways cuz they want to know who's singing. And it becomes this big thing the school trying to figure out.

Cut to reader losing her mind cuz she like "wow, I didn't know people thought it was that bad. How am I supposed to live, laugh, love ever again??"

When in reality they were just memorized by reader's singing. And they really want to find out who it is.

Bonus points if they film it and sent it to the group chat you posted about earlier. And reader just has to be like 🧍‍♀️ "whattt???? No way!! 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ a random voice in the woods 😱😱"

I'm sorry for sending 2 long asks back 2 back ,but twisted anxiety just gets my head going.

Also if you don't like being sent stuff like this just tell me and I won't send any more. I don't want to over step at all. These are just like head cannons I give to reader ,cuz I just love making things worse for her. Can't let her know what peace is

YOU

hOW THE FUCK DID YOU GET IN MY HEAD 🫵

i’m going to give you the fattest smooch alive you don’t understand. AND I LOVE IT WHEN I GET LONG ASKS!!! so please! ask away i don’t mind, i actually get really flattered that people want to share with me their long, detailed thoughts !! i was actually nervous people wouldn’t like my long responses 😖

no cause that’s ALWAYS one troupe i ALWAYS go back to.

i was thinking about making them a singer, REALLY I WAS- but i had second thoughts cause i thought people wouldn’t like it / maybe people would think its too… y-nie or im trying to make twisted anxiety reader too much, ya know

BUT OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU MEAH MWAH (also dw i got your other ask and fully plan on answering it, this one was just at the top of my inbox 🫶🫶)

but oh my god,,,, HEAR ME OUT;

twisted anxiety reader getting pent up because they. have. no. outlet.

none.

maybe they played a sport in their old world, but no longer can’t because seriously?? going up against beastmen, mermen, fae and just,,, men?! absolutely not.

they can’t do anything fun in ramshackle because of the ghosts can and will find a way to stick their noses into your business. also hello??? no privacy at ramshackle👎👎

honestly, twisted anxiety reader doesn’t have any friends so they can’t blow off steam that way either. and going to the gym is out of the question because 1. anxiety 2.gym bros- and working out at home is… different.

so there has to be a way to let off steam… good thing twisted anxiety reader dilly dallied in everything!!

they want to sing but aren’t confident enough to join the pop music club, and the walls to ramshackle are paper thin.

there’s absolutely no where you can go.

and yet… every time you glance at the forest. you can’t help but wonder…🤔

AND IVE ALWAYS IMAGINED READER SINGING

“everything stays” from adventure time

“love all mine” by mitski

“rises the moon” by liana flores

“sky fall” by adele

“memory” from cats

“listen” by beyoncé

“hopelessly devoted” by olivia newton-john

oh my god i have to make a separate post for this before i completely rot and accidentally write a whole chapter because i’ve been WAITING to write about this and i’d feel bad about making this SUPER LONG

but i can’t imagine rook going for a sunset “hike” (…sure, let’s go with that) and hearing you. belting your little heart to “hopelessly devoted” HAGFJAIWOFOSOWOFOAPEIFOZOQFOXOD

ROOK IS AWE STRUCK

such passion! such devotion! how marvelously beautiful! rook is stunned.

of course after you finish singing he can hear you moan and groan about trivial things but- rook hunt was not a hunt if he didn’t appreciate the gift the forest provided.

and yet, the carful hunter made a careless mistake. cursing silently, he glared at the twig his boots stepped on before he snapped his head up to the clearing up ahead.

ah, you fled.

to say rook was… upset was an understatement. yes he was able to marvel in your voice, but he lost the privilege to listen to more, to observe from afar.

the strange songs you sang and possibly wrote (what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him) are gone with the wind and the high step of your foot as you vanished into thin air.

rook could easily hunt you down, but he stopped himself after a slight muscle twitch. non non! he was the enjoyer of beauty! not the hunter! yes he hunted beauty but it would go against his very being to trap it instead of let it fly free and continue its song.

so let this be your little secret, okay.

jade would def walk into you singing ‘everything stays’

OR OR ROOK N JADE BOTH TAG TEAMING READER IN THE CHAT SAYING HOW THEY WISH TO MEET THIS BEAUTIFUL VOICED GOREST ‘NYMPH’ SO THEY CAN HEAR MORE OF THEIR SONGS

readers just like;

😟

“time to find a new location☝️”

*there’s no where those two won’t be able to find you fyi*

TWISTED ANXIETY READER WILL NEVER KNOW PEACE‼️‼️ NOT AS LONG AS IM HERE‼️‼️

please send more headcanons i love reading them 🙇🏻🙇🏻

babes this is me n u rn:

#MWAH MEAH MWAH ALL THE HUGS AND KISSES FOR YOU FOR SHARING THE SAME BRAIN CELLS AS ME HENCE ALLOWING ME TO WRITE ABOUT IT MWAH MWAH #guys… if i added this to twisted anxiety….#guys if this became canon…#hopefully y’all won’t get mad cause i wanna 🤞😋#twisted anxiety 🌀#tiyoin’s cuties 。　 ඞ 。

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belphegorspillow · 1 year

Text

MC in a fistfight

‘Imagine Mc in a fist fight with a random lower-level Demon, how do you think the brothers would react?’ ~ My Friend IRL

Characters: The Brothers Gender Neutral Reader [No pronouns mentioned] TW: Violence

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Lucifer ~ He can feel the grey hairs growing and him getting more wrinkles. ~ He will put a stop to the fight very fast though. ~ He is impressed that you can hold up a fight with a demon even if you were losing, at least you didn’t die and got some punches in. ~ Expect a long lecture once you get back home. ~He will be proud that his human can fight a demon though.

Mammon ~ He is worried that you will get seriously injured and interfere after a bit. ~ He will be shocked if you were actually able to go and win a fight against a lower level demon. ~ Please tell him you are okay though, he is worried even if you won. ~ He will take care of any injuries that you have while saying his worried in his own tsundere way. ~ ‘Tch, The great Mammon has to patch you up. Ya could have called me to help ya.. I am your first!’ ~Let him help next time or he will be sad. Leviathan ~ He is in shock and impressed. He would be the one to record the fight, but since its you, he is ready to stop the fight or get someone else like Beel or Lucifer to stop it ~ He was happy to see you actually being able to beat up a lower-level demon ~ He leaves patching up to someone else, but he is happy to play games with you after ~ And talk for hours about how you are like a protagonist of one of his animes Satan ~ Very impressed, lets the fight go on as long as you aren’t getting injured, stops it when it starts to get too heated. ~ Willing to join the fight if needed. ~ He is patching you up afterwards and makes sure you aren’t too hurt. ~ He will scold you a bit, but besides that he is talking about how impressive it was to see you take on a lower-level demon all on your own ~ He will beat up and torture the lower-level demon if they hurt you alot in the fight.

Asmodeus ~ He is shrieking, he can’t believe to see you in a fight with a demon. ~ He will help with patching up, but needs someone else to stop the fight ~ He will make sure you don’t go into a fight again, as he didn’t like seeing how injured you got ~ Though if you were on the losing side...maybe Asmo sent out a devilgram post about a demon hurting his beloved MC...

Beelzebub ~ Stops the fight pretty fast. He doesn’t want MC to get hurt. ~ He will help with patching up as well, though mainly bringing food for you both to share. ~ He will tell you how worried he was about you getting hurt. He will make sure to follow around you more to try and stop any future fist fights ~ Beel is not afraid to cause more fear into the lower-level demon if they hurt you alot.

Belphegor ~ He is doing 1 of 3 things. Napping, Watching the fight or joining you in the fight. ~ Someone else has to pull you and Belphie off of this poor lower-level demon. ~ Because Belphie ain’t stopping you. ~ Belphie helps Beel with patching you up, though he doesn’t do too much. ~ He will take a nap or cuddle after the fight with you. ~ If you get injured badly...lets say you will find the demon on the news the next day... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed :] Master list

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pnsteblnme · 9 months

Text

wrong impressions ✿ k.m.

pairing: katie mccabe x reader

summary: a misunderstanding leads to conflicts and tension between katie mccabe and arsenal’s newest signing.

warning: cursing, katie and reader being idiots, bad writing

word count: 5.1k (i don't even know how this happened)

a/n: here’s a little something in honour of ireland's second game today ;) also, this was my first time writing something like this and english isn’t my first language, so bear with me please <3 anyway, i hope you enjoy this and i’m always happy to hear your thoughts :)

“Oh, McCabe isn’t good. She’s borderline reckless and very petulant, plays way too aggressively and all she does is collect cards for her team.”

“The fuck,” muttered Katie with a quiet scoff after hearing Arsenal’s newest signing’s words as she walked into the training facility. Not wanting to hear more comments, she quickly made her way to the locker room and sat down at her designated spot, an annoyed frown still etched onto her face.

As the brunette was tying her shoes, a shoulder nudged hers, “You excited for our new additions?” Katie looked to her left to be met with the buzzing smile of her blonde friend.

“Mhm.”

The corners of Leah’s mouth dropped, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Finishing the tie on her shoe Katie leaned back up, let out a small sigh and opened her mouth. Before she could utter a word though, the door opened.

“So, as you all know, we have two incredible players joining us this season. I’m sure you’re all acquainted with Alessia,” Jonas pointed to the taller of the two women, who sent everyone a friendly grin, “and this is Y/N Y/L/N. Before coming to us she played for Barcelona but because of an injury, our paths haven’t crossed yet,” after he finished his sentence, you raised your hand for a timid wave and looked at all the girls with a nervous smile, a blush coating your cheeks, resulting in a few excited greetings being thrown your way. “I trust that you’ll make them feel at home and yeah, that’s all. I’ll see you on the pitch in 5,” were his last words before disappearing behind the door.

Turning around to face your new team, you were welcomed with open arms - literally. In front of you, you found almost all the girls waiting to greet you, each pulling you into a hug and introducing themselves.

After you were done introducing yourself, you quickly changed. The warm welcome they gave you resulted in your heartbeat finally slowing down (maybe not to a normal pace, but considerably slower than when you arrived). Later, you would also realise that your hands had stopped shaking halfway through the training, filling your body with warmth, that felt like the sun thawing the frost off of colourful flowers on a warm spring morning.

Right now though, your shoulders slumped as you noticed that the forward you were most very thrilled to play alongside of, didn’t greet you (and if you weren’t imagining things, even sent a glare in your direction).

Shaking off those thoughts, you made your way to the pitch, walking next to Leah. “How are you feeling?” she questioned, looping her arm through yours.

“I’m literally shitting my pants,” you chuckled, “but I’m also excited to play in this amazing team like, I don’t know, I feel like I can learn so much from you.”

Leah waved you off, “Don’t worry, you’re gonna be just fine and I have a feeling it’s gonna be the other way around.” When you felt the blonde’s hand ruffling your hair, you jokingly pushed her away, muttering about how you were going to get back at her.

And that you did. The end of the training came with a scrimmage, in which Leah and you were on opposite teams. Getting the ball from Lotte, you quickly made your way towards their goal and consequently came face to face with the blonde defender. Before she could do much, you nutmegged her and sent the ball straight to the far post, Alessia scoring a goal with a beautiful header.

Fidgeting with your sleeves, you turned to your friend with a sheepish laugh, “Sorry, I just don’t like people messing up my hair.” Chuckles coming from the girl instantly relaxed you as she patted your shoulder, “That was a nice play.”

Heat crawled into your cheeks as you muttered a quiet ‘thanks’ and made your way back to your side.

Sadly, not everyone took the scrimmage as light-hearted as Leah. With the frustration growing after each goal your team scored, the game quickly became physical. You would feel the wrath of that a few moments later.

Running along the sideline, you were just about to send another ball into the penalty box when you felt cleats connecting with your ankle and your legs being swept from under you.

You let out a groan as you held your foot, trying to stand up. Rotating your ankle a bit, you attempted to take a few wobbly steps, the new blonde forward approaching you, “Are you all right? That looked like it hurt.”

“No, it’s fine, I just have to walk it off.”

Limping a few metres, you felt the pain slowly subside and glanced at the girl that had tackled you. Not seeing her making any moves to apologise nor a glimpse of remorse on her face, a crease formed between your eyebrows, wondering why Katie was acting this cold towards you.

When the game continued with you, in particular, being the one the Irish woman directed her fury at, the uncomfortable feeling in your chest grew. That was why, when Leah and you were collecting the balls that had been shot to god knows where, you inquired, “Does Katie not like me?”

“No, what makes you think that?”

Putting the last ball into the bag you shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know, I just feel like she has it out for me, you know?”

“Hm, it looked like she was already in a lousy mood before you came in, so she probably just had a bad day. I’m sure yous will hit it off tomorrow,” consoled the blonde with a comforting touch to your arm.

Alas, it didn’t seem to get better the next day.

Being on the receiving end of her tackles once again, this time even from the beginning of the training session, your patience was wearing thin. Your dislike for conflict made you keep quiet though, not wanting to cause drama on your second day and because no one else said anything, you just presumed that it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

After a particularly gruesome duel, where Katie had stepped onto your feet multiple times, you couldn’t push your agitation down anymore, the anger bubbling inside of you like an active volcano, fiery red lava spewing out of your mouth, “Okay, what the fuck did I do to you? Why do you hate me?”

Surprised at hearing your angry voice directed at her, the Irish woman turned around with a scoff, “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what you did.”

“I don’t, I wouldn’t be asking if I did, Sherlock.”

You watched as her eyes rolled into the back of her head before she turned around and marched to her position. Feeling a presence behind you, you tried to get your whirring thoughts under control, “Everything alright?”

Pulling your shoulders to your ears and letting them drop again, you returned, “Yeah, I’m not so sure about her not hating me, though,” eliciting a frown on the blonde’s face.

Unfortunately, for you two and for everyone who had to hear your petty arguments, you were paired up with Katie on one of the gym days.

For the most part, everything was fine. Even though the Irish woman couldn’t help but follow a few drops of sweat that rolled down your abs with her grey eyes, which sparked her irritation, wondering how she could be thinking about a person like you like that, you two didn’t exchange any words.

That is until you were supposed to spot Katie. Padding over to her waiting by the bench press, you thought about how you could finally relax for a moment after all the tiring exercises you had to go through.

Boy, how wrong you were.

Standing at the head of the bench you had a perfect view of Katie doing her tasks. It felt like a magnet being pulled to the strongest metal, the way your eyes were glued to the forward’s arms. Not knowing what hit you, you couldn’t pull your gaze away from the heavenly sight.

Katie noticing your dazed expression, rolled her eyes with a smirk, before an idea formed in her head. Pretending to lose her grip on the weight, she laid it down on her chest and let out struggling breaths.

After she tried to get your attention with faux breathless words, you suddenly jumped out of your stupor and quickly lifted the weight off of her.

“Do you want to kill me?!”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” you mumbled, regret filling your voice as you looked down sheepishly.

Shaking her head the brunette enjoyed teasing you further, “You can’t do anything, can you?”

“I said I was sorry, relax.”

Across the room, Leah and Alessia were watching the scene unfold with confusion written over their faces, “Where did this weird tension even come from? It looks like they want to kill and fuck each other at the same time.”

“I don’t know,” Leah responded, “but I think we need to separate them or one of those two things will happen any minute now.”

These little quarrels eventually developed into a common component of Arsenal’s training sessions, even being present outside of them, like on team bonding nights.

All the girls were gathered at Leah’s house to watch a few movies and just enjoy each other’s company. Everything was fine until Katie got up from the couch to get another drink for herself. During that time you arrived at the blonde’s flat, having had an appointment before, and unknowingly sat down at the spot that was previously occupied by none other than the fiery winger.

When she strolled back into the living room and saw exactly who had stolen her spot, the brunette let out an annoyed sigh. Making her way towards you, she stopped in front of your frame, “Did you make it your personal life goal to annoy me whenever you can, or what?”

Only being met by you looking at her with those stupid eyes and your stupid button nose and a stupid mischievous grin on your face, she scoffed, “Move out of my seat, you knob.”

About to stand up, you felt a few drops of something land in your lap, which made you look up only to see the brunette raising her eyebrow, “Oh no, I’m so sorry, I guess my glass was too full.”

“Tell me, Katie, is it hard being such a relentless asshole, or does it come naturally to you?” you sent her a fake smile, before moving to the other side of the room, not before jamming your shoulder into hers though.

Before Katie could retaliate, Beth let out a tired sigh, “Girls, can we just enjoy the movie now?”, gaining agreeing mumbles from everyone else.

It all came to a head when Katie tackled Alessia, who you had grown very close to in the last two months and now considered one of your best friends.

You were running along the sideline, waiting for Alessia to pass the ball, when you heard her outcry and immediately stopped. Hastily making your way to the blonde, you kneeled down and softly put your hand on her left leg, trying to calm her down, “Oh my god, Less, are you alright?”

“It hurts,” she groaned, still holding her foot.

“Don’t worry, everything’s gonna be fine, the medics are gonna be here in a second.”

Looking up when they arrived, you also saw the woman that had caused Alessia to fall to the ground.

Only seeing red, you stood up so fast you were surprised you didn’t get whiplash, shoving the brunette with both of your arms, “What the hell is your problem?! You don’t get to just treat people like that, jackass!”

“What did you just say to me?” barked Katie as she invaded your personal space, your faces only a breath apart, meaning you could see the vein on her forehead popping out and almost smoke coming from her ears.

“You heard me, McCabe,” taking one last step towards her, your foreheads touching, you poked your index finger into her chest, “stop playing like a fucking hazardous idiot and go apologise to her right now! I know you hate me and you can come at me all you want, be my guest, but if you ever hurt her again, I’ll break your goddamn kneecaps!” Your chest heaved up and down with the rage inside of you, “Stay. The fuck. Away. From her,” punctuating each word with a jab of your finger, you gave her one last push before turning back to Alessia still laying on the ground.

With it being the last training before the first match, it wasn’t a surprise when the atmosphere was a bit tense.

So, when you accidentally bumped into the one and only Katie McCabe, because the exercise had you all running backwards, and somehow landed on top of her, her snappy remark came almost instantly, “Watch where you’re going and get the fuck off of me.”

Putting your hands on either side of her head, you started to pull yourself up, scoffing at her overdramatic reaction, “Go take a walk and calm down, babes.”

As she quickly stood up and pushed up against your body with her glowering eyes, that reminded you of the sea after a terrible storm, the gray rolling clouds reflecting onto the almost-blue surface of the water, her intoxicating scent invading your nostrils only infuriating you further, “Why don’t you take a walk back to Barcelona?”

Having had enough of this constant back and forth, you raised both of your arms and let them fall back to your sides, “What’s your goddamn problem?!”

“You! And don’t try your stupid innocent act on me, you know exactly what you did.”

Seeing the frown on your face, Katie continued, “Unless you’re gonna admit it, you can take your shit-talking self elsewhere.”

“God, you’re so full of yourself, I’m not gonna kiss your ass and apologise for something I didn’t even do!”

“Are yo- ”

She was interrupted by Leah separating you two, “Let’s take a deep breath, ladies.” Still glaring at one another you two slowly parted ways.

The locker room was buzzing with everyone’s excitement for Arsenal’s first game of the season, excited chatter coming from every corner. As you were all about to enter the pitch for warm ups, Jonas appeared, “McCabe, Y/L/N, a minute, please.”

He waited for the other girls to leave before addressing you, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you need to get it together,” his tone emphasising his disappointment. “When I made you the offer, Y/N, I thought you two would come together as a fantastic offense, because I know Katie has wanted to be winger again for a long time now and your styles and techniques just compliment each other perfectly,” the words causing you to look at your shoes shamefully.

“Now I know that you can destroy Liverpool’s defense out there but in order to do that, I need you two to work together, okay?” he looked to the two women in front of him expectantly, causing both of them to nod, his last words only making them repeat the motion, “And if you pull anything like the the shit that went down yesterday, you’re instantly being subbed off, understood?”

Jonas’ words apparently made something inside the both of you switch. Throughout the whole game, Katie and you seemed to link up every chance you could and waltzed through Liverpool’s defense like a hazard. Even when you were behind the Irish woman, she could somehow feel your presence and get the ball to your feet. You had to admit that playing with Katie when you were both working together felt amazing, giving the impression of flying over the pitch.

Even though the game went as well as it did, you went back to being at each other’s throats afterwards.

The snarky comments exchanged in the locker room extinguishing any hope your teammates had that you would at least be civil now.

One day at lunch in the team cafeteria, Katie couldn’t help but let her gaze float towards her self-appointed enemy.

Watching as you laughed with Alessia, made her thoughts run wild. Why would you say that about her? And why was she so bugged by it, when she normally just let the nasty comments brush past her without giving them a second glance?

A fork dropping to the floor startled her, making her eyes flick towards the direction the sound came from. She could see Alessia leaning down to pick it up and noticed you putting your hand between the blonde’s head and the edge of the table, efficiently sparing the forward an uncomfortable collision with the table.

This wasn’t the first time, the brunette picked up on your kindness. All the other times, for example, you staying behind and helping the staff clean up or you giving the girl you’d walked onto the pitch with your jacket, making her wonder why you were treating her so differently.

The heavy feeling in her gut made a crease form between Katie’s eyebrows. Turning to her right she questioned the captain of England’s national team, “Why is she literally the nicest human being to everyone but me?”

“Hmm, let me think, maybe because you’ve been nothing but mean to her since day one?” spoke the blonde after tapping her chin with a faux thoughtful face that turned into an ‘are you kidding me’ look.

Grumbling and stabbing her food with her fork she retorted, “She started it.”

“What do you mean? There’s not a bad bone, not even a bad cell, in that girl’s body.”

“Well, when I came in on her first day, I heard her talking to someone and she was saying pretty nasty things about me,” Katie claimed with a defeated tone.

A confused look crossed Leah’s face, “Are you sure it was her? What did she say?”

Thinking back to said day, she tried to get the words together, “Yes, I’m a hundred percent sure, and she was saying something like ‘McCabe is way too aggressive, all she does is get cards and she just isn’t good’ and I don’t know, normally I don’t really care about what people say about me, but I was just so excited to play with her and-”

“Are you serious?!”, exclaimed the blonde incredulously.

“What?”

“Did you listen to her until the end?”

Grimacing, Katie replied, “No, why would I? So that I could hear more of her borderline offensive comments?”

Fishing for her phone in her pocket, Leah grunted, “I can’t believe you sometimes, you useless lesbian.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the Irish woman starting to feel lost now, as her friend put her phone down in front of her, a video playing.

Scanning the screen she could see the title of said video ‘Y/N Y/L/N’s first Arsenal interview’ and the fog in her brain only thickened. Then she heard a voice behind the camera, “So, what are you most excited about?”

You smiled nervously, fiddling with the rings on your finger, “Uhm, I’m really excited to play with this team cause their style is so different and I just think, uh, I can learn a lot from these amazing girls.”

“And who are you most excited to play with?”

“Oh, that’s easy, Katie McCabe,” you told the interviewer animatedly, “many people might say like ‘Oh, McCabe isn’t good. She’s borderline reckless and very petulant, plays way too aggressively and all she does is collect cards for her team’,” you imitated while doing air quotations.

“But I’m like, have you seen this girl play? It’s amazing to watch and maybe she’s a bit more physical but it’s working, isn’t it? I don’t know, I just think it’s very admirable and just so unique cause you don’t see a lot of people playing like that, you know? Sorry, I’m rambling,” you chuckled with rosy cheeks.

The blonde taking her phone back, brought Katie back to the real world. The realisation of what she had done came crashing down on her like a ton of bricks.

She hid her face behind her hands before she muttered ashamedly, “I’ve just really been an arsehole to her this whole time for no reason, haven’t I?”

“Yup, you have,” Leah patted her on the shoulder consolingly, “but I’m sure she’ll forgive you if you apologise.”

“Well, here goes nothing.”

When you heard footsteps approaching your table, you looked up from your plate to come face to face with the most infuriating person you knew, “Hey Y/N, could we maybe talk for a minute?”

Expecting her to start another fight, you couldn’t hide your surprise. “Uhm, sure I guess,” you told her as you got up to follow her out of the crowded room, shooting Alessia a confused look and only getting a shrug in response.

You arrived outside and when she stopped, you let your gaze study the woman in front of you. With her head down and her hands fidgeting, your eyes caught a sight you never would’ve thought to see. Used to her confident and feisty persona, you were astounded when you heard her speaking in a voice softer than you’d ever heard it before.

Trying to calm herself down, Katie took one last deep breath, before rising her eyes to meet your questioning ones, “I know you hate me and that this will not make up for the horrible way I’ve treated you and the awful things I’ve said, but I still want to apologise and explain why I acted the way I did.”

Your eyes widened as you took in her words and noticed that she looked to be on the verge of crying, so you sent her an encouraging smile, which she gratefully reciprocated.

“God, this is gonna sound so dumb,” she put one hand on her forehead and the other on her hip and continued, “Uhm, you remember your first day?” You nodded your head. “Well, I came in when you had your interview and I may have overheard a bit of what you were saying, only it was just a snippet of what you actually said, so I got the impression that you hated me, which I hope I didn’t make true, because I walked away before I could hear the rest of your answer.”

“I was just so excited to be able to play with you that I felt devastated after hearing your words, and I don’t really know why I did what I did but I just want you to know that I’m very very sorry, I truly am. When Leah showed me the whole video, I felt like the biggest fool ever. I know that this doesn’t excuse my behaviour but I hope you can forgive me and if not, I totally understand! Just tell me and I won’t get in your way until the end of time,” spoke Katie with her voice wavering on a few words.

The melodious sound of your laugh is what breaks her eye contact with the floor. Perplexed, she looked at you, trying to make out what your reaction meant.

“Sorry,” you let out another chuckle, “this is just the most rom-com movie type of shit I’ve ever experienced.”

You could see the girl in front of you visibly relax at your words, her shoulders finally dropping and letting out a quiet sigh of relief.

“And I should also apologise, it was wrong of me to treat you the way I did, especially because I just joined and don’t really know what everyone’s like and I also shouldn’t’ve provoked you like that and said the things I did, so yeah, I’m sorry too. I hope we can move past this,” seeing the hopeful glint in your shimmering eyes, Katie herself felt something inside of her spark.

With a thrilled smile, the Irish woman held her hand out as she proposed, “Friends?”

A beaming grin broke out on your face, feeling a tingling sensation in your tummy, you nodded giddily and pulled the woman into a tight hug. Your arms wrapped around her back as she leaned up to snake hers around your neck, squeezing tightly.

The warmth that encompassed you couldn’t even compare to drinking a hot chocolate under your fluffy blankets with your favourite movie playing on a snowy winter night.

The following weeks were filled with Katie and you spending more and more time together. One particular day, Katie couldn’t keep her eyes nor her thoughts off of you.

It all started with her struggling to get a glass that had been placed on one of the higher shelves in the cafeteria.

She had been trying to reach the goddamn thing for at least two minutes now and was just about to give up, when she felt the heat of a body behind her. Before she could turn around, the person took one last step towards her, their front touching Katie’s back, and reached out to hand her the item she had been failing to grasp.

If the familiar smell of your vanilla scent wasn’t enough of an indication of who exactly was pressing their body (a very fit one at that, if Katie’s sinful thoughts were anything to go by) against hers, your teasing voice definitely was, “You know, I’ve always wondered, has anyone ever mistaken you for being in middle school before?”

Ripping the glass out of your hand with a glare on her face the brunette retorted, “Fuck you.”

“Don’t mind if you do.”

Seeing her dumbfounded expression only caused your smirk to spread across your whole face, enjoying the sight of the usually confident woman trying to hide the heat rising up her cheeks and squirming in her place.

You found her flushed face extremely adorable, so there was nothing else to do but squish her cheeks between your hands - and that’s exactly what you did.

With you still squishing her warm face you exclaimed, “Aww, aren’t you the cutest?”

Slapping your hands away, she grumbled something unintelligible and turned on her spot, strutting back to her table. The laughter coming from you (which still put a slight grin on her face) didn’t help her face cool down, making the teasing from Leah inevitable.

“If you two don’t get together soon, I’ll lock you in my basement until you do, I just can’t watch this anymore.”

Katie already knew the comment would irk her, so she didn’t try to resist herself, “You don’t have a basement.”

“I don’t care, I’ll find something else to lock you in!”

A few hours later, her lack of concentration led to another incident involving you. She wasn’t paying attention for a minimum of two minutes (her thoughts being on anything but the exercise) when she collided with someone.

Tumbling to the ground, she grunted at the impact of the floor and the person landing on top of her. As soon as she saw who was almost laying on top of her, every last complaint flew right out of her head.

She looked up at your eyes to find them slightly creased at the edges, “I thought we would stop meeting like this, since we’re friends now,” you laughed.

“Maybe I just like having you on top of me,” retorted the girl laying on the ground, sending you a wink, which allowed Katie to see your eyes roll into the back of your head, as you jokingly swatted her arm and walked away.

It was her last straw though, when you two were the last ones in the locker room and you pulled a box out of your bag, “Oh, I almost forgot! I made these blueberry muffins cause you said you haven’t had any in a long time and they were always your favourite.”

You handed her the box and she sent you a grateful smile, the butterflies in her stomach awakening, “That’s really nice, thank you, Y/N!”

You waved her off with a ‘No problem’ and trudged back to your bag to continue changing.

Remembering what you had wanted to add, you snapped your finger, “Also they’re glutenfree so your niece can have some if she wants! She’s coming to yours tomorrow, right?”

The butterflies reappearing with what felt like twice the power, Katie’s whole body was overflowed with a warm tingly feeling as she realised that you had remembered every little detail.

Lost for words, the Irish woman just stared at you from across the room. Unaware of the watching eyes trained on you, you took of your shirt.

On the other side, Katie stood, still in a daze from your kind gesture, and now unable to look away from your almost uncovered upper body. The way the sweat glistened on your toned abs enchanting her with a seemingly unbreakable spell. When she broke out of her stupor, she strode over to you with quick steps.

Hearing the hurried footsteps approaching, you turned around alarmed, “Wha-”

Before you could get out another word, the smaller woman had pushed you against the wall behind you, and like the oceans being pulled towards the moon, your lips found one another.

If before Katie had butterflies, she could now feel a whole zoo dancing in her tummy, a kind of warmth overtaking her that she’d never felt before. When the woman’s soft lips caressed yours, your heart stopped for a moment before picking up at double its pace.

Warm hands landed on your bare waist, pushing you further against the wall and impossibly closer together, you felt the thud of your combined heartbeats getting quicker with every second your lips were connected.

Your hands quickly found themselves tangled in her brunette hair and when you slightly pulled on it, Katie let out a raspy groan against your lips, sending tingles shooting from your fingers to your toes, the smell of her perfume dizzying you further.

Pulling away and getting a short breath of air into her lungs, you fisted her jersey in your palms and yanked her back, her lips landing on the silky pillow that was your mouth.

Just feeling the careful swipe of her tongue on your bottom lip, you breathed out a blissful sigh before being forced apart by the need for oxygen.

Your eyes were still closed as you felt Katie’s breath wavering across your face, “Why didn’t we do that earlier?”

Finally looking at her, you were enthralled by the sight before you. Katie McCabe with messy hair, rosy cheeks, a dazed look in her dazzling eyes and her swollen red lips slightly parted would be the death of you.

“I don’t know but we need to make up for lost time,” declared the brunette with a dreamy smile and pulled you back in by your waist.

#woso #woso x reader #katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader #arsenal #arsenal wfc #arsenal x reader #woso fanfics

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monstersandmaw · 6 months

Text

Male dragon x male knight (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Fourth commission for you! [insert Fourth Wing joke here?]. This one is for @chroniclesinlacuna - so thank you!

(reposting because of some weird formatting shenanigans on the first attempt - sorry. Please reblog this instead of the other (deleted) one).

Content: (cis) male knight is sent to kill an injured dragon, and finds himself sequestered in the mountains with a beast of far greater intelligence and empathy than anyone had imagined. Non penetrative sex happens too, and bonding if you squint. Wordcount: 8938

“Boy, what’s going on?” Aneirin barked, grabbing for the arm of a page boy as he scuttled past in a slightly rumpled tabard.

He could have been a little gentler with the scrawny kid, but the corridors in the castle were roiling with a heady mix of unease and excitement, and that was rarely a good thing. Added to that, Aneirin had only just left Prince Ruairí in the hands of the next shift of Crownsguards, but if there was even the faintest whiff of trouble, he’d be back on duty in a heartbeat.

“Sir,” the boy chirped, bobbing a bow when he looked up and discovered that he’d been hooked like a minnow out of the flow of people by a knight of the realm.

Over six feet tall and still wearing his armour, though his helmet was tucked under one arm, Sir Aneirin Pendræd cut an imposing figure, and almost everyone in the castle recognised the Crown Prince’s personal guard and close friend, even if he did have a tendency to keep politely to himself for the most part.

“Well, lad?” he asked with just a hint of a growl in his usually soft baritone. “What’s got this place clucking like a hen coop?”

The kid grinned suddenly, all previous unease forgotten as his blue eyes began sparkling. “Dragon!” he beamed in breathless wonder. “There was a dragon sighted! Out by Icetide Pass! Lord Mortingale’s soldiers shot it down on their way through the mountain pass but they had to leave it there so they could take him to the Temple of Healing. His illness is bad, apparently. That’s why they risked coming across the mountains even though it’s going to snow soon. A dragon, my lord! A dragon!”

Aneirin chuckled when he learned that there hadn’t been an attempt on the life of one of his royal charges, and released the boy. “Go on,” he said, waving him away, and the page belted off in the direction of the kitchens.

With a sigh, the knight turned and headed back the way he had come and nodded politely at the guards flanking the entrance to the royal apartments.

The prince met him in the corridor with almost as much delight in his features as the page boy Aneirin had just released back into the wild. “Nye!” he chirped. “I was going to send for you. There’s been —”

“A dragon, I know,” he said, raising a dark eyebrow. “Is it true?”

“Sir Mathis heard it straight from Lord Mortingale’s lips himself,” Ruairí said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder to get his friend to follow him.

Aneirin fell into step beside him, and bit back a yawn as he followed him through a concealed passage, out of the prince’s chambers and towards the adjacent apartment which belonged to his parents. In the darkness though, the prince paused and put his hands on Aneirin’s breastplate, tapping the cold metal a couple of times in his excitement. “A dragon, Nye!” he practically giggled. “Can you believe it? The magisters say they all migrated in to the frozen north a thousand years ago! What do you think drove this one south?”

“Maybe it’s fed up with all the snow,” Aneirin deadpanned, and the prince snorted a laugh and turned away, moving with easy familiarity down the dark corridor until he popped the latch on the door at the other end and they stepped out into the king’s empty study.

“Mother and father are in their sitting room,” Ruairí said, adding with a heavy grimace, “Magister Ferrar is in there too.” The much-hated former tutor of the crown prince was a truly odious man; pompously pious, deeply disdainful of those who wielded a sword instead of a stylus, and rake thin because he thought that consuming food with actual flavour was a grievous sin. Unfortunately, he was one of the most learned scholars in the country, so it was hardly a surprise that he had been summoned upon a credible report of a dragon reaching the king’s ears.

So it was that Aneirin found himself with the command of a small group of riders the next morning, heading north-east towards the belt of mountains that sheltered the kingdom’s fertile plains from the worst of the wild winters, and charged with finishing off the downed beast. A larger party would follow behind to collect the corpse for study and preservation, apparently, but his focus was killing it.

Aneirin also had a grinning crown prince on his magnificent bay stallion at his side, despite his protests that a fire breathing lizard the size of an average cattle barn was probably quite dangerous, and putting the heir to the kingdom within a twenty mile radius of the thing was a colossally stupid thing to do, but the prince had insisted, and his parents had never been able to tell him ‘no’. To be fair, he was irritatingly charming.

“What do you think it will be like?” Ruairí asked as they trotted at the head of the column.

Nye looked around constantly, and even though the prince was dressed in sensible clothes for once, rather than showy silks designed to accentuate his fashionably fit figure and draw the eye of everyone in the room, he couldn’t help but feel the immense responsibility of guarding the crown prince out in the open like that. “Big, probably,” he mumbled. “And pissed off.”

The prince barked a laugh. “You’re funny, Nye. People think you’re grumpy, but you’re not. You’re just quiet.”

“You talk enough for the both of us,” he scowled, squinting at a shadow by the road a few hundred paces off. It was just an old tree stump, but he still glared at it like it was an assassin crouched in ambush all the same.

Somehow, the prince was still in a blindingly good mood as they walked their horses up the twisting, mountain road four days later, the breath of man and beast billowing in the air as they climbed higher. Everything was an adventure to Ruairí, and Nye couldn’t help but twitch a little smile as he watched the way the soldiers leaned closer to their prince in the firelight at camp, drawn like moths to his radiant joy instead of the flames of the campfire. Nye made one more round of the perimeter guards, greeting each by name and earning an earnest salute as he left them to their duties, and went to lie down on his own bedroll while the prince kept talking late into the night.

On the following morning, they reached the mouth of the canyon where the dragon was supposed to have gone down. According to Lord Mortingale’s soldiers, it had swooped overhead from a lower peak of the mountains, then swept down the narrow gorge like a hurricane, which spooked the horses to a white-eyed panic and caused the archers on the ground to nock arrows. When they’d loosed at it, it had wheeled away suddenly, and only to catch a wing on the bridge, colliding with it and disappearing into the depths of the gully. The soldiers had been forced to keep going, given the fragile health of their lord, and hadn’t been able to report accurately on the status of the dragon when they’d left the pass.

At the head of the canyon, a huge waterfall roared over the edge of a ‘v’ in the ridgeline of the mountains and plunged down out of sight into the bottom of the gorge. In the spring this road was only just passable because of the sheer volume of meltwater, but now at the tail end of autumn, the road was only misted by a constant spray. On either side of the gorge, the rocks rose into steep pinnacles, and in front of the waterfall, bathed in a sheeting mist, the stone bridge spanned the canyon and connected the road from one side to the other.

The walls that made up the protective sides of the sandstone bridge had been punched out in places by a the collision of something enormous, presumably the dragon as it fell, and all up the far side of the steep slope the trees and scrub had been singed to charcoal.

Aneirin held up a gauntleted hand and the riders halted. Taking a deep breath of damp, freezing air that burned his lungs, he listened. Behind the constant roar and rumble of the waterfall, a deeper sound filtered up through the scorched trees and scattered rocks. Low frequency, like two blocks of castle masonry grinding together, the rumble of a dragon reached his ears.

“Sir, that bridge looks like it’s about to go,” the captain of the unit muttered from Aneirin’s left and he nodded.

“We need to get a better look at what’s down there, but the scree slope on either side of the bridge is too dangerous to go near. I’ll dismount and go on foot.”

“Nye, you can’t go onto the bridge!” Ruairí exclaimed, wheeling his horse around to face his friend. “What if it gives out?”

“One man isn’t going to tip the balance,” he said. “But you stay here. You hear me? Stay…”

“I’m not a dog, Nye,” the prince pouted, but he did stay put.

Aneirin nodded, swung down from his horse and petted the placid gelding’s neck. The black horse twitched his head and stretched happily when the knight let go of the reins, but otherwise remained steady.

After only a couple of steps, he heard another rider dismounting from behind him, and turned to find one of the soldiers hurrying after him. “Captain said you shouldn’t go alone,” she said. “I volunteered.”

Aneirin shot the captain a level look, but didn't protest. He wasn’t sure what difference one extra person would make, but he wasn’t one for causing social friction when there were bigger problems to face; namely the dragon lurking in the steam at the bottom of the four hundred foot drop.

Stones and grit skittered away audibly under the arch of the bridge as the two of them stepped cautiously out onto it, avoiding the missing chunks and making their way to the middle where the wall was still intact and they could peer safely over the edge into the abyss. A flash of movement out of the corner of his right eye caught his attention, and Nye turned sharply to find the soldiers they’d left behind had dismounted and were loading bolts into crossbows. The grinding of the windlasses had dissolved into the noise of the waterfall and they were nearly all ready to loose.

Frustration flickered through him. If he shouted a warning from right above the dragon though, it could alert the beast to their presence, but if those fools shot down at it now, it could take out the entire bridge while they were still standing on it. Heck, if the dragon wanted to, it could probably start a landslide and suck the whole damned road into the gorge as well. Grinding his teeth, Nye waved and exhaled in relief when the captain responded in kind, and when Nye gave the signal to hold, the captain nodded and barked something to his soldiers that was lost to Nye behind the pounding waterfall.

Satisfied that they wouldn't endanger the crown prince or the volunteer soldier who’d come with him, Nye leaned over the edge and his breath caught. There at the bottom of the gorge was indeed the dragon.

A myriad of golden scales glittered in the water like a treasure hoard itself as the creature basked in the flow of water, seeming to enjoy the feel of it caressing the spiny ridges of its back. He frowned though when he realised it was slowly swinging its head back and forth through the water just downstream of the waterfall’s plunge-pool, jaws slightly open, and it appeared to be… catching fish? Somehow the image didn’t align at all with what he’d expected for a beast that big. Had it just been sitting in the river for a week catching salmon and trout like a fat lordling on a vacation from court life?

Before his bafflement could truly sink in, the sharp clunk of a crossbow loosing somewhere to his right jerked his attention away from the dragon, and before he could react, a thick, oak bolt sank deep into the creature’s shoulder just above its wing membrane and it gave a screeching roar loud enough to make Nye’s eardrums hurt and his mind go a little bit blank from the sheer, unfamiliar dread of it.

With a wild thrash, the dragon erupted out of the spray from the base of the waterfall and sent its tail and powerful hind quarters arcing around like a battering ram while remaining on the ground. The whole structure of the bridge swayed and shuddered as the beast collided with its footing piles, and both the knight and the soldier froze in place with their hands clutching the stone wall.

“Run!” Nye yelled at her, shoving her in the direction of her comrades gathered nervously on the road to their right. If he survived this, he was going to see to it personally that the one who’d loosed without a direct order was on latrine duty for at least six months.

The desperate beating of wings as the creature floundered and screamed again filled the air and the bridge gave way beneath them with a thunderous clamour.

Nye found himself sucked downwards amid a cloud of masonry and dust and the woman beside him screamed and floundered for the remaining edge of the bridge but it was too late.

Amid the clouds of choking dust, gold flashed and flickered, and something incalculably enormous barrelled out of the carnage at them with the force of an avalanche. Talons snatched for him and Nye found himself borne upwards while the scaly foot of a dragon closed around him. The brief thought that he would be punctured and crushed like an egg in his steel armour flitted across his mind as the dragon lurched upwards with a knight in one hand and, to Nye’s relief, a soldier in its other.

It struggled to escape the blocks of sandstone as they rained around them, but despite the bolt in its shoulder, it cleared the wreckage and swooped over the road, but as it banked, the soldier slipped from its grasp and plummeted away. Nye had the vague impression of her bouncing once and sitting upright while crossbow bolts buzzed through the air like summer flies until someone obviously yelled at the soldiers to stop in case they hit Nye.

The last thing he saw before they wheeled away into an open sky was Ruairí’s horrified expression peeking out from the visor of his golden helmet and the sword falling from limp, shocked fingers as his friend was snatched away by the dragon they had been sent to kill.

He wasn’t sure how long they flew northwards along the spine of the Icetide Mountains, but the dragon eventually began to tire, swaying and weaving, sometimes dropping a horrifying ten or twelve feet between wing beats, until a shivering Nye looked up and realised that a wide, snowy field was rapidly coming into focus through the oncoming snow that had started to fill the air perhaps an hour earlier. At the end of the long meadow covered in a perfect layer of deep snow, Nye could just about see a gaping hole in the cliff-face, and realised it must be a cave. Dimly, his mind supplied that this was probably the dragon’s home, and he was probably either about to be eaten or stored for later like a woodlouse in a spiderweb.

As the ground rushed up to meet them, he tried to thrash free of the enormous, curling talons, but he was held firm, and there was no freeing himself. When the dragon didn’t slow down nearly enough though, another thought crossed his mind. They were going to crash land, and he realised this might be it. Death by high-velocity impact with a mountainside wasn’t on the list of ways the Crownsguard knight had ever thought he would perish, but he didn’t have any more time to ponder it as the dragon twisted at the last minute and collided with the ground in a spray of snow, and Nye was tossed from its talons to land in a heap thirty feet from the point of impact.

He struck his head, helmet clanging once, and his consciousness winked out instantly.

Warmth was the next thing he felt, and he blinked his eyes open to find that he was lying on his back in the snow, and above him, a dragon was squinting against the onslaught of a full storm, its ochre eyes fixed on him as it tilted its head this way and that to get a better look at him, and it exhaled again. Its warm breath washed over him and he realised his clothes were soaking wet where the heat of its breath had melted the snow.

Aneirin’s first thought was that he was about to be eaten, but instead of floundering away or reaching for a weapon, he just froze.

“You’re awake,” came a rich, rumbling voice and he blinked. Nothing in the tales he’d ever heard had suggested that dragons were capable of human speech. They were wild, savage beasts that burned the land below them in great swathes and snatched people into the air like owls hunting vermin in a cornfield. “Thank goodness,” the dragon went on, and then sat back on its haunches like a dog to regard him at a bit of a distance. A huge, golden dog, partly covered in snow and bleeding from a barb in its shoulder, but still, the resemblance to a dog was remarkable.

“How… How long was I out?” Aneirin rasped, sitting up. When he didn’t feel sick and his vision didn’t warp, he felt a degree of relief. The concussion he’d suffered wouldn’t be bad.

“Only a minute or so,” the dragon said, lowering its muzzle a little and puffing out again. “But you should get inside before you freeze. The temperature out here is too low for human survival.”

“How would you know that?” he groused as he struggled to stand and then gave a yelp as his ankle gave way beneath him in a hot flash of pain. In all the shock of coming round and finding a dragon in his face, he’d not noticed the pain in his leg.

The dragon caught him in its claws and tightened its hold just enough to hold him steady and he clutched at the tiny, snake skin scales that covered its hand more out of reflex than anything else.

“Come on,” the dragon muttered, and he could hear the bellows of its breathing clearly this close up. The sheer presence of the creature was astonishing, overwhelming, and he swallowed, trying to process everything that had happened that day.

Using three out of its four legs, the dragon ploughed through the deep snow, keeping him aloft with its right front foot, and then it ducked its head and slipped into the cave like a snake disappearing into its den.

Aneirin blinked slowly, looking around. It wasn’t a cold, empty cave littered with carcasses and bones, but instead the walls were smooth, ashlar masonry, and adorned with tapestries. In the far corner was what appeared to be a great nest on a stone platform made of silks and furs.

“This… This isn’t what I’d expected,” he whispered, wondering if he was hallucinating all this.

The dragon chuckled, low and warm and oddly friendly before he sat the knight down on the bed of fabric and stepped back. “I’ll find you something to wrap your ankle. I don’t think it’s broken, but it might like some support…”

“How would you even know that?” he asked again, ignoring the pain and staring up at the creature.

Its sunset orange eyes seemed to laugh and the pupils dilated just a little as the dragon stared at him. Then it cocked its head a little to one side and laughed quietly again. “I have an interest in human scholarship, though I admit, my sources may be a little out of date now…”

“You… what?”

If dragons could look embarrassed, this one managed it, so much so that Nye felt a prickle of shame creep in behind the slightly hysterical exhaustion that was making his body heavy, his mind a bit slow, and his dark eyes incredibly gritty.

Clearly seeing as much, the dragon sighed, a sound like wind moving through woodland, and then said, “Why don’t you rest and we’ll talk more tomorrow?”

“I thought perhaps… uh…” Nye faltered, the shame intensifying.

“That I was going to eat you?” the dragon said, one brow-ridge rising with disconcerting familiarity into a dryly sarcastic expression. “Please, all that pretty, etched steel of yours would give me terrible indigestion.”

“Says the dragon that was gorging on fish in the river like a grizzly bear.”

“Well we don’t exactly have an overabundance of trout up here on the mountaintop,” the dragon retorted, puffing smoke out of its nostrils. “Excuse me for wanting to broaden my diet and make the most of an unfortunate situation. Until you lot came back and shot at me, I was actually enjoying myself. They weren’t the mountain goats I’d been looking for, but the fish were fun to catch and tasty to eat.”

At his words, Nye’s brown eyes slid to the bolt that was sticking out of the dragon’s shoulder still, like a bee’s sting, and his gut twisted. “You want me to take that out for you?” he asked, jutting his chin upwards to indicate the bolt.

“If you would be so kind,” the dragon admitted. “Though I’m surprised you’re offering, since you seem to have been sent to finish me off. It does hurt rather…”

“Here,” he said, and gestured for the dragon to lower its body down, which it did with surprising grace given the close confines and evident discomfort. “My name’s Aneirin,” he added.

“The one with the gold on his helm shouted something different at you as we flew off,” the dragon said as it got settled on the stone floor in front of its nest. “He seemed particularly distressed.”

“‘Nye’, probably,” he said as he reached for the oak bolt and braced his other hand on the scales of the dragon’s shoulder. The body beneath him was solid and warm, and the scales had the most beautiful iridescence to them over the gold lustre beneath. “The prince is the only one who calls me that, except my sister. What should I call you, by the way?”

“My name is —” the dragon began, but grunted and bared its teeth when Nye drew the bolt out. A little blood trickled down, but it wasn’t much, and Nye pressed a wad of clean linen from the pile beneath him to the wound, and the dragon went on. “My name is Vulfuri’ik.”

Nye scowled. “Vul… fury… ick?” he repeated, butchering the syllables and the glottal stop even while they were still fresh in his ears. “Never been much good with languages,” he added with a wry look at the dragon, who was regarding him sidelong with a flat, unimpressed sort of look at his poor efforts. “How about I call you ‘Fury’ instead?”

Indignant, the dragon’s head lurched up and the movement pulled the makeshift dressing away from the clotting wound as it fixed the knight with a scowl of outrage. “Fury? Fury?!” it repeated. “My name means ‘peaceful wanderer’, you know? It’s a name that’s been carried by many of the noblest males of my line!”

“I’d been wondering if you were male or female,” Nye mumbled. “Well, I can certainly try to pronounce your name — what was it again?”

“Vulfuri’ik,” he said with exaggerated pronunciation, huge teeth clicking when he snapped his jaws shut at the end of the word and glared down at the knight.

“Vool… fur…eek…”

“Oh for the love of the sky, no. No. Just stick with Fury. That’s fine. You’ll only be here for one night anyway. Once you’ve healed up and I’ve convinced you to tell your kind to stop shooting your nasty little bolts at me if I ever need to venture down into the valley, I’ll take you back to the road and I’ll never have to hear you spoil my sacred name with that tiny little tongue of yours.”

“My tongue’s had quite a few compliments, you know?” Nye shot, not entirely sure where the bout of playful innuendo had come from. Perhaps it was exhaustion and the fact that he was trading gentle insults back and forth with a creature that was only supposed to exist in legends now anyway.

“I’m sure,” Fury said dryly. “But until you decide that I can test that claim for myself, why don’t you take your little metal shell off and I’ll find you a goat or something you can eat, and then you can rest.”

Nye had to smile. The creature was supposed to be intimidating, and in a way he supposed he was, but the sense of humour was not something he’d been expecting. As he stripped off the various pieces of his plate armour, he felt the dragon’s curious eyes on him and turned to meet his gaze. In the stillness that swung between them, Nye sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said, gaze snagging on the scab that had formed over the hole where the crossbow quarrel had sunk into his shoulder. “When we’d heard that a monster from the mists of time had crashed down on the border of our kingdom, we only thought to protect ourselves from you. Clearly, you were just… raiding our larder…”

The dragon laughed, deep and rumbling like a rock slide, and something shot through Nye that he wasn’t expecting to feel. He didn’t often seek out the company and touch of others, despite his momentary brag earlier. It just wasn’t something he felt the need for, but in that moment, the way the dragon’s voice rippled through him and his supple lips pulled back to reveal a maw full of sharp, white teeth, and his talons flexed on the stonework floor and his wings drew a little closer to his muscular, lithe body… Nye felt his cock twitch and decided he might actually have a concussion after all.

The dragon left not long after that, and returned with a neatly butchered and roasted goat, which surprised the knight, who had been poking around the large, chilly cave and hopping awkwardly to avoid putting weight on his sprained ankle.

“You shouldn’t be up,” the dragon purred as he landed and held out the goat on one talon. “Here.”

“You want me to eat out of your hand? Bold. We’ve only just met.”

The dragon’s laugh sounded again, only longer and louder this time, and he looked at the steel hanging on Nye’s hip. “I thought you could use that. It’s not the most elegant of solutions, but I don’t exactly have a full dinner service here. I don’t collect crockery like an old lady.”

It was Nye’s turn to bark a laugh at that, and he shook his head. “Alright, I’ll use my castle-forged steel sword as a carving knife, but just this once.”

“I hope it’s clean,” the dragon grimaced.

“I take good care of my weapon,” he said, and then hoped the dragon wouldn’t notice the flush in his face at the horrible and actually unintended innuendo. Definitely a concussion. He was never this bold or unguarded with people ordinarily.

“Glad to hear it,” Fury muttered dryly.

Fury let Nye sleep on the pile of fabric that night while he curled up on the floor like an overgrown, gold-adorned house-cat, and Nye found that he had no trouble drifting off whatsoever, and woke to find the snowstorm raging outside the cave entrance when he woke the following morning.

Over the next three days, while his ankle healed and the snow piled up, he and Fury talked. The cave he was living in was the remnants of a human outpost from the time when dragons and humans had apparently once lived in peace. “This cavern was actually where the dragon would have lived, while their rider would stay in a small room below — through that tunnel,” Fury said, astonishing Nye with the information.

“Their… ‘rider’?”

“Mmm,” the dragon rumbled, puffing a small flame over his tongue to ignite a torch on the wall beside an opening large enough for a human to walk down. “Every room in this little termite mound of an outpost is accessible to my kind as well, though I have to go outside and back in again. Something to do with the structure of the rock not being sound enough to tunnel down from here. There are other rooms below.”

“Yes, sure, but… rider?”

“Oh. Has your kind forgotten that?”

“Forgotten what? All we know about dragons is that you’re deadly, fire breathing lizards who —”

“Reptiles, yes,” he growled. “But not lizards. Lizards do not spit volatile compounds which ignite when combined.”

“That’s how your fire is made?”

“Yes, it’s a simple bio-chemical reaction. Don’t they teach you anything these days?”

“I… You know what, no. Dragon biology wasn’t covered in my training to become a knight.”

“No, but they do cover how hard you need to hit a fellow man and where to cut him open to make him die… Very refined.”

“You’re one sarcastic lizard, you know that?”

Instead of taking offence, the dragon grinned at him. “Gosh, it’s wonderful to have company,” he sighed. “I know I shouldn’t enjoy it too much, since you’re only still here because you’re hurting and there’s a snowstorm and all, but I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve actually… you know… exchanged words with someone. I talk to myself all the time, but it’s not the same.”

“When was the last time? Are you the only dragon in these parts?”

“I’m the only dragon for at least five hundred miles,” he sighed. “And she’s a big, grumpy elder dragon who thinks I’m still a hatchling for goodness sake! A hatchling! I’m very much an adult, and I’m sorry my gizzard isn’t saggy enough for her tastes, but there you have it.”

Nye laughed and then rolled his ankle around experimentally. “I think it’s basically healed,” he said. “But it’s been an unexpectedly nice change from castle duties. Keeping the prince from falling down a staircase because he’s too busy flirting with some lording’s son has it’s own challenges, sure, but this is a nice change of pace.”

“You and the prince are… close?” Fury asked carefully. “But you are not… mated?”

“Mated? Gods no. They wouldn’t let him ‘mate’ his Crownsguard. He’s expected to continue the line, and I know you know enough about human biology to know that wouldn’t happen with the two of us, even if we wanted it.”

“Oh. Yes,” he said. “Is it… acceptable for two of your kind to mate though?”

“Yeah, when the future of a kingdom doesn’t hang in the balance,” he shrugged. “You?”

He nodded. “Dragons do not dictate with whom another may mate, though I admit, I’ve only ever met one of my kind. There are so few of us left in these parts after all.”

That rather dampened the mood, and they spent the rest of the evening discussing lighter topics. Nye told him about his twin sister and the work she did in the Temple of Healing, and how he had always felt like she was the smart one out of the two of them. He told Fury of her passion for healing and helping, and how he felt that his role as a knight in the castle, training younger soldiers and protecting the crown prince, was barely halfway as useful as Seren’s work, and was surprised when Fury reassured him that helping to ensure the longevity of a ruler he valued was just as important.

“I realise I don’t know you all that well,” Fury said, “But I don’t think you would stand behind a ruler who did not care for their people.”

Nye looked down at his rough, scar-flecked hands where he had cradled them idly in his lap. “Ruairí is a good man,” he said with quiet certainty, thinking of that fire-lit camp and their warm smiles and boyish laughter. “The soldiers love him, and the people adore him too. You should see the way they cheer for him at the tourneys…”

“Tell me about them?” Fury asked, his eyes lighting up at the idea of more knowledge.

“The tourneys or the people?”

“All of it…”

So he did.

While the snowstorm continued to whisk the world into a white haze outside, Nye told the dragon everything he wanted to know about how humans in his kingdom lived these days, and in turn, Fury curled around him to keep him warm with the heat of his enormous, golden body.

Nye talked late into the night, and he only realised that the dragon had fallen asleep when he noted the regular rhythm of his breathing had slowed even more than usual. Turning, he stared at the dragon and marvelled at what he was seeing. The light of the nearby fire in a niche in the wall caught the iridescence of his golden scales, each one unique and perfect, and Nye reached out and ran his fingertips over the dragon’s brow-ridge and around the base of the horn that curved elegantly backwards over his head. The dragon let out a long, low, sleepy rumble of pleasure and Nye gave a sigh.

Conflicted about his feelings for a creature that was about as far from a human as it was possible to get, he curled up against the dragon’s side that night, and woke in the morning with the dragon’s arm snugging him close to his warm body.

Sliding free, Nye stretched and walked easily across the cave floor towards the entrance; his ankle was healed and he would have to return home soon, lest he be pronounced dead and the modest estate he owned outside the city be turned over to someone else. His sister must be beside herself with grief and worry too, if the prince had done what Nye was sure he would, and informed her personally of what had happened to her twin brother.

The wind had lost its vigour and now the little flakes drifted gently down like the pattern on a lace curtain.

A warm breeze wafted over his neck and he turned to find that Fury had come to stand behind him. He’d been so lost in his thoughts that he’d not heard the enormous, golden dragon moving behind him, and he exhaled too. Fury nuzzled him gently and crooned softly. “You are thoughtful,” he said. “Even… sad?”

“Just thinking about what my sister must be going through right now, thinking I’m dead.”

“I will fly you back today,” the dragon replied immediately. “The weather is not ideal for you, but I have a human friend who keeps horses on the plains below these mountains. You can borrow a mount from her and ride to the capital. If I try to approach, they’ll shoot me down on sight without realising what a precious cargo I would be carrying,” he added, and huffed a breath out that made Nye shiver again. “You’re cold standing here on the threshold, come,” Fury added, scowling.

“Not cold,” Nye said, his voice cracking just a little. “It’s nice.”

“Oh. You had but to ask,” he smiled, and sighed out another deliciously hot breath in the cold air.

Nye brought his hand to the delicate skin between the flared nostrils and Fury jolted and then relaxed in almost the same heartbeat. “You like that?”

“Mm, very much,” he rumbled, eyes rolling slightly as he closed them. “Your touch is… wonderful.”

Nye moved his hands along the dragon’s head, taking his time to feel the contours beneath his hands, and Fury gasped and lay down on his belly, allowing Nye to touch him wherever he pleased. “You’re so beautiful,” Nye murmured. “Your scales are like coins… You’re like a treasure yourself…”

“Oh,” the dragon sighed, shuddering bodily.

“What?”

“That’s… That’s quite the compliment among our kind… calling someone — ah — a treasure…”

“You are,” he said, leaning closer and kissing him just in front of his closed eye. “You’re rarer than gold, too.”

“Charmer,” the dragon rumbled, but he sounded pleased. “Oh, that’s wonderful.”

“You… You want… more?”

Fury opened his eyes and regarded Nye. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You’re careful,” Nye said. “And clever. I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Fury let out a long, low-frequency growl that Nye felt in every fibre of his body, and then licked his lips. “I want to use my tongue on you,” the dragon rasped. “I want to taste you. I want… I want you, human. Like I’ve never wanted anything before.”

“So long as you’re careful, you can have me,” Nye said, stepping back and undressing slowly.

The dragon watched, as though Nye were a priceless statue that was being unveiled just for his pleasure. He rocked his hips from time to time against the floor, and Nye realised with a jolt of satisfaction that the dragon was as aroused by the situation as he was. “Fuck, you like this, don’t you?”

“I like you, human,” he said with a bit of a snarl to his tone. And when Nye’s dark, linen trousers and underwear hit the cave floor beside his shirt, the dragon raised his head and exhaled to drive away the goosebumps that had prickled over Nye’s skin. “Let me pick you up?” he breathed.

Nye inclined his head, and the dragon’s claws closed around his naked body. He’d never felt so vulnerable and cherished and so turned on in all his life. He went limp in the dragon’s grasp even as the sharp teeth and lashing tongue descended, seemingly to devour him. Somehow, he trusted that this was not the way he would die.

Fury parted his jaws and let his searing hot tongue lave over Nye’s entire torso and down to his groin where his cock was straining and leaking already, and when the heat of Fury’s mouth washed over him, his mind went blank with pleasure. “Gods, that’s good,” he gasped, bucking weakly in Fury’s careful hold.

“Now who’s a treasure, look at you,” the dragon purred, his deep voice skittering through Nye’s body and setting every nerve ablaze.

His tongue pressed against his cock, the friction perfect, and Nye tumbled towards his release with a shout, arching and writhing helplessly in his hold as the dragon worshipped him. When he came against his tongue, Fury gave a great groan of pleasure and Nye’s hearing warped for a moment.

When he came back to himself, Nye found Fury’s tongue gently cleaning him, and he glanced dazedly down the dragon’s belly to where he found his hard cock dripping freely onto the floor. “You can… Use… me to make you come, if… if you like…” he said vaguely.

Fury laid him down the bed and lined his hard cock up with the knight’s thighs. He was far too big to enter him, but the feel of Nye’s legs around his hard, slick cock was enough to send a rumble of ecstasy through Fury and he gasped, tilting his head up to the ceiling and rutting against him. His hips moved desperately and a constant, low-frequency growling rippled out of him.

“You’re going to make me come,” Fury groaned. “Oh I’m going to come, I’m coming… I’m…”

He lifted Nye up in his talons while his back legs pistoned helplessly, and he spilled over the silk sheet beneath him and halfway up Nye’s legs and torso. His hot come covered Nye’s skin despite the dragon’s best efforts to raise him out of it, and the feel of it around his cock and over his abs nearly made him come again right on the heels of his first orgasm.

When the dragon finally stopped, he lowered Nye to the cleaner part of the bed and let out a long, rumbling purr. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Nye chuckled. “Fuck, that was hot.”

Fury gently cleaned him and he dressed in one of the finer silk shirts from the dragon’s collection.

“Is this what you hoard then?” Nye asked, plucking at the sleeve of the garment.

“Mmm? Oh, no,” came Fury’s sleepy reply from where he’d curled up on his nest after discarding the fabric that had been ruined by his release. “I just collected it for my own comfort over the years. Come here.”

Nye lay down with him and let the dragon’s warmth seep into him while the world passed them by for another day. They made love again later, and Fury took his time to take Nye apart a second, third, and even a fourth time before the sun set on their secret lair.

The following morning though, Fury woke to find Nye dressed in his armour and ready to leave. “Wait,” the beautiful, gentle, golden dragon said. “Before you go, I want you to see something. Go down that staircase, and I will meet you at the other end.”

Nye nodded and headed off in the direction the dragon had pointed, turning down a switchback staircase cut into the rock. He came out in a pitch dark room with no idea how large the echoing space was until a warm light trickled around the edge in a creeping tide. He looked and found, astonished, that a channel of oil had been ignited, and the light was racing around the perimeter of a massive chamber, at the centre of which were rows and rows of… books.

Kept at a safe distance from the fire, the books were stored on stone shelves, and he stepped out to find ancient tomes, perfectly preserved by the stable atmosphere and humidity of the chamber. From behind him, he heard the steady footsteps of the dragon, and turned to find him rounding the corner, scales shimmering in the low light.

“This is your hoard?” he asked.

“Mm,” the dragon nodded. “Silly really, but your kind are fascinating to me. The way you chronicle everything… Look there,” he added and pointed to a nearby shelf. The two approached it together and the dragon raised a talon to a particular tome.

Nye drew it off the shelf and realised it was a tome dedicated to healing.

“That might help the lord you told me about. The one who was travelling to the capital for relief from his illness,” Fury said. “When you described his symptoms to me, I thought of that book. Take it with you today, and it might save him if your sister can prepare the necessary tinctures for him.”

The knight looked up at the dragon and his eyes brimmed with quiet tears. “You’re not at all what I thought you’d be,” he croaked.

Fury lowered his head and exhaled just to make Nye shiver. “Nor are you, human.”

With a heavy heart, Nye let Fury pick him up, and they began their journey southwards in silence. The wind roared in his ears and he curled up in the protective embrace of the dragon’s claws, enjoying the ride but wishing he had warmer clothes.

Eventually they dipped low over the landscape and Fury touched down in a snow-dusted pasture while a few horses scattered and whinnied indignantly at their arrival.

From the small farmhouse nearby, a middle aged woman emerged and put her hands on her hips when she saw the dragon.

“Your friend?” Nye asked as he was set gently down in the snow and Fury stepped back.

Eliara was wary of a stranger at first, though not of the huge, golden dragon it seemed, but when Fury vouched for him, she lent Aneirin a horse on the condition that he would bring the mare back to her in the same condition when he was able. He swore an oath to do so, and she seemed satisfied.

“Will I ever see you again?” Nye asked Fury while they stood on the snowy road outside the barn where some of the less hardy horses were kept.

Fury bit his lower lip and then said, “If you wish it, I can give you a gift that will allow you to see me again.”

“I do,” he said. “I… I want to tell Ruairí that you’re not an enemy to the kingdom but an ally. I want him to meet you. I want… I want you to be welcome in our lands. Providing you don’t eat our sheep…”

He rumbled a low laugh and dipped his head to nuzzle Nye’s side. The horse seemed completely unbothered by his presence. “No, precious one. I will not eat your people’s sheep. There are plenty of wild ones to sustain me.” He drew in a deep breath and held it before rising up to reveal his chest and exhaling gently. Taking his talons like two pincers, he plucked free a single, golden scale from right over his heart and held it out to Nye.

The knight took it like it was a sacred relic and held it in the palm of his hand. Its warmth was surprising, and he closed his fingers around it before looking up for an explanation.

“My magic will allow me to feel what you feel when you hold it against your skin, Nye,” he said. “If you wish to see me, I will know it, and I will come.”

Nye squeezed it tight and tried to ignore the ache in his chest. “I wish you could come with me now,” he said, “But you’re right. They would attack you this time.”

“Perhaps in the future,” Fury smiled. “Don’t be sad… It… I do not like to feel you sad…”

Nye kissed the smooth scales between the dragon’s nostrils and tucked the gifted scale safely into the pouch on his belt. “I’ll have it made into a pendant that I can wear around my neck, always.”

Fury swallowed thickly and looked away, but he was obviously deeply moved by the promise.

Eliara’s palomino mare might have been alright with the dragon’s presence, but she was not at all happy at the prospect of a ride in the snow. She did allow Nye to mount, though only after making her sentiments known with a hefty nip on his arm. With an oath to return the mare and a promise to the dragon to summon him when he was first able to, Nye set off for the capital.

Eliara’s stud was only a day’s ride from the city walls, and when Nye trotted in near sunset, the first place he went was the Temple of Healing. Seren screeched when she saw her brother and flew at him, looping her arms around his neck and sobbing. “I thought you were dead,” she cried. “The prince said…”

“Hush,” he smiled, holding her too. “It’s quite the tale, but first, this is for you. It is for Lord Mortingale.”

Thanks to the lost knowledge in the book, the lord was healed within in a month, and Nye returned to his life in the castle. Ruairí begged him to tell every detail of his time with the dragon, and while Nye was a loyal servant to the crown, he felt justified in not telling his prince quite everything… Magister Ferrar seemed to suspect a deeper bond existed between the two of them than simple friendship, but if he did, he kept that to himself.

When spring melted the snow and the crocuses pushed their bold, purple spearheads through the frosty ground to liven up the pastures, Nye took the mare and his own black gelding which Ruairí had led back to the castle when he’d been snatched away by Fury, and he returned the mare to Eliara.

Then, in the privacy of the deserted, wildflower meadow, he took the silver pendant that he had had crafted for him and cradled it in his hand, closing his eyes and trying to beg the dragon silently to come to him.

He waited in the pasture for an hour before he heard the beating of wings and when he looked up into the clear, spring sky, he saw a flash of gold and his heart leapt. The dragon banked, showing his gleaming wings, and a huge gout of flame burst from his maw across the sky like a pennant before he turned, tucked his wings, and made a peregrine dive towards the meadow.

He barely stopped in time to avoid crushing Nye beneath him, and when he nuzzled him like a cat over and over, rumbling and purring and crooning, Nye laughed and kissed him. “I missed you too, Fury,” he said.

“You have no idea,” the dragon replied. “Gods, you have no idea. Are you well?”

“Can’t you tell?” he asked, only then releasing the large pendant to dangle back against his chest.

“Yes,” Fury laughed. “Yes, I can. My most precious treasure, you are happy and I love it. I missed you. Will you fly with me?”

Nye turned and looked back to find Eliara standing at a polite distance. The horsewoman nodded once and called, “I’ll keep your gelding for you til you return.”

“Thank you,” he said.

And with that, the dragon picked him up and thrashed his wings hard, taking off and soaring up into the clear sky.

Nye spent a week at Fury’s home, and after that, he returned to the capital with Fury this time.

Ruairí was the first to greet the dragon, and he swore that Fury could come and go from their city in peace, so long as he respected the same bargain. Fury solemnly gave his oath in return. The second human to greet Fury was Seren, and the two spent a solid three hours talking about healing treatises until Nye and the prince interrupted politely with an offer of refreshments. Fury had no time for Magister Ferrar, apparently.

Thus, the ancient alliance between dragon and human was reforged by a knight and his golden dragon, and Nye spent the days when he wasn’t at his prince’s side in the loving arms of his dragon.

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