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lipglossanon · 1 year

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They Were Roommates

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Roommate!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

For the anon who asked for roommate Leon! 💜 I hope I did it justice 😬 🫣 this is pretty much just smut not much lead up 🫣

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, masturbation, voyeurism, dirty talk, unprotected sex, slight oral, cum swallowing, uhh I think that’s all lol

Not proofread (you know me 💁‍♀️ lmao)

Title pulled from a vine! It’s one of my faves lmao 🤣 ୭̥⋆*｡୭̥⋆*｡୭̥⋆*｡୭̥⋆*｡୭̥⋆*｡୭̥⋆*｡୭̥⋆*｡୭̥⋆*｡୭̥⋆*｡୭̥⋆*｡୭̥⋆

“What do you mean you didn’t put in the ad?”

You know your voice is pitching higher, but this couldn’t get any worse. The guy at least has the good grace to look apologetic.

He rubs the back of his head, “Yeah, I guess my old roommate put that out but he ended up moving instead of me. He never told me he even made an ad, so I’m really sorry about that.”

Frustrated tears prick your eyes but you ignore them.

“So there’s no room to rent? This is literally my last resort before sleeping out in my car.”

He looks at your earnest face and the bags at your feet. You watch as his blue eyes dart back into the apartment and he frowns.

“Well, do you have any references?” He finally sighs, “if you’ll give me their numbers, I’ll call them and if everything’s kosher I’ll let you rent the room.”

“Really?” Your smile lights up your whole face, “yes, I have some printed out. You’d really be doing me a favor.”

He blushes as you hand him the reference paper in question, looking down at it then back up at you, “I just don’t feel comfortable letting you go without somewhere to stay.”

“Thanks, that’s really nice of you,” you nod your head at the paper, “I’ll chill out here until you’re finished with that.”

“No,” he shakes his head, opening the door wider, “you can at least sit in the living room. I’ll make these calls and we can go from there.”

And that’s how your first meeting with Leon S. Kennedy, your current roommate, went. So after months of living together, getting used to each other’s schedules and eating habits, you fall into a really nice and comfortable pattern. Leon is tidy and polite, but also kinda dorky and sweet.

You find yourself excited to come home after a long, grueling day at the office. Leon works in law enforcement so sometimes he’s working opposite hours from yourself; this week, however, your schedules are synced and it’s Friday night which means movies and pizza. Even better is you got to leave work early, a rare occurrence that you won’t take for granted!

Opening the front door, you drop your keys back in your bag and sing out, “Honey, I’m home!”

You hear a muffled thud from the living room, making you pause in the entryway—door half shut behind you.

“Leon?” you call out hesitantly.

Hearing no answer, you quietly set your bag down and slowly inch your way further in the apartment. You peek around the wall into the living room and hold in a gasp.

Leon is practically naked, the only thing covering his modesty is the flimsy boxers he has on—doing nothing to disguise the fact his dick’s hard.

You notice a box of tissues tipped over in the floor along with lube which must be what caused the noise. Covering your mouth with your hand, you can’t pull your eyes away from the scene in front of you.

Leon has his phone in hand, headphones connected, as he splays out lazily on the couch. His thighs are spread wide, taking up as much space as possible. You can see his other hand slide underneath the band of his underwear and jerk himself off in his boxers.

“Fuck,” he whispers, eyes glued to his phone, hand picking up speed.

He rests his head on the back of the couch for a moment then pulls his cock completely out of his boxers. You have to swallow down a whine as you see how big and thick Leon’s cock is, throbbing in his hand as he pulls the foreskin down to show off the fat, oozing tip. You rub your thighs together to ease the ache in your clit.

Leon groans low in his throat and slowly strokes his cock, teasing his fingertips across the head. He fingers the slit, precum oozing out and coating his fingers making them sticky. He sets his phone on the couch so he can keep watching but use both hands on himself.

He pants and keeps slowly teasing himself with slow, light touches using one hand on his cock as the other gently rolls and tugs his balls. Your mouth waters at the thought of walking the rest of the way into the room and getting on your knees in front of him. As you watch Leon, slick drips from your pussy and fills your panties, making them wet and clingy.

Leon tosses his head back with a low moan. He humps up into his hand as he fucks his fist in short steady strokes. Pausing, he reaches down for the lube and coats his hand in the clear, shiny liquid. He brings his coated palm back to his dick and moans as he jerks himself off more easily.

“So wet,” he whispers to himself, “being so good for me, huh.”

You feel shameful arousal curling in your belly as you watch Leon in a private, intimate, moment; but you can’t help ask why he’d do this in the living room? You know you’re home early, but—

Wait, your eyes widen as your brain whirs with thoughts— is this even the first time? You bite your lip to stop yourself from whining. God, how many times has Leon jerked off in the living room while you weren’t here? Or even when you were??

“So good,” Leon’s voice rumbles, “suck that cock, baby, fuck.”

His hips slowly thrust up as his hand tightens around the thick shaft, “You’ve got such a pretty fucking mouth, sweetheart.”

Those words make you dizzy with arousal, a hot surge flooding your body so quickly it feels like you’re going to pass out. You rub your thighs together and can feel yourself starting to leak through your panties.

Leon starts to fist his cock more roughly, precum and lube oozing over his knuckles.

He groans, voice gravelly, “Can barely fit me in your mouth, baby.”

He bucks his hips up hard, “God, can even see how far you get cause of that ring of lipstick around my cock.”

You bite into the meat of your palm to curb any sounds, not wanting to get caught. You swallow thickly at the thought of getting caught while watching Leon get off. Maybe he’d want to see how far your mouth would fit around him. Leave your own sheen of strawberry lipgloss around his fat length. You rub your thighs together again, feeling more turned on than ever before in your life.

Leon groans, pulling your attention back to him away from your own thoughts. One of his hands is still tugging his heavy looking balls while the other keeps a tight tunnel formed around his cock.

You really want to touch yourself, but it’s hotter to just watch Leon. You can always get off later, remembering this moment.

Your wide eyes continue to watch as the leaky tip of Leon’s dick peeks out of his fist on every stroke—teasing you with the promise of hot cum on your tongue if you only dared enough to go in there for a taste.

He quickly jerks himself harder, sounds of shlick shlick shlick filling the air. Leon starts humping up into his slick fist, growling in satisfaction as he rolls his hips just right.

“Fuck, you take it so well, baby. A tight little throat just for me.”

Your nipples tighten under your bra, clit throbbing with need. You’re so wet, you can feel it leaking down your thighs now. Torn between wanting to leave to touch yourself or watch Leon finish, you ultimately want to see him come undone.

“Gonna cum all over that cute face, sweetheart,” Leon moans out, thrusting his hips harder as his hand strokes faster.

Leon’s head lolls back on the couch, eyes closed as he strokes himself faster to completion.

“Yes, fuck,” he groans, low and deep, as ropes of cum spurt across his abs and chest, coating himself in white sticky strands.

Your pussy flutters, aching and throbbing— needing something in your wet hole. Eyes darting up to his blissed out expression, his own eyes thankfully closed, you quietly tiptoe backwards to the front door.

You pick your bag up off of the floor and pull the half open door completely open and walk out. You softly shut the door and lean back against it, blowing out a harsh breath.

You really don’t know how you’re going to react when you look Leon in the face, but I guess that’s just something you’ll wing when you get to it.

Giving yourself several minutes to calm down, you finally re enter the apartment acting like it’s the first time.

“Heey I’m home!” You yell, a little louder than usual, but you really hope Leon hears you this time.

“Oh uh, hey,” you hear Leon call back, voice nervous, “you’re home early.”

“Yep!” you take more time than usual to close and lock the door behind you, dropping your bag in the floor near the coatrack.

“Cool, I haven’t ordered the pizza if you wanna go ahead. I’m actually gonna grab a quick shower,” you can hear his voice get further away as he walks deeper into the apartment.

You listen for the bathroom door to shut and once your hear it, you let out a relieved sigh. Opening up your phone, you just order the usual Friday night spiel and walk to your bedroom.

Once inside, you close and lock the door. You shed your clothes like they’re on fire and quickly climb into your bed. This isn’t your usual way of doing things, but your brain is a little too fried to think outside of the image of Leon’s thick cock.

You grab a pillow you only use as decoration and swing a leg over it as you kneel on top of it. Rocking your hips down, your clit grinds against the fabric and makes you whimper. Slick is steadily dripping from your needy hole as you hump your pillow, imagining Leon in its place.

Using one hand to keep the pillow steady, your other hand comes up to tease and pinch at your nipples, shooting bolts of pleasure straight to your clit making you cry out softly.

“Leon,” you whimper, rolling your nipples between your fingers.

You rock against the pillow faster, already so close just from watching Leon earlier, dragging your wet sensitive clit over and over the coarse pillowcase.

“God, ‘m gonna cum,” you whine out loud, eyelashes kissing your cheeks as your hips stutter and grind down, cumming so quickly it makes your thighs spasm.

Slick covers your pillow as you shakily let your hips drop down to sit. Your clit pulses with aftershocks while you pant to catch your breath.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself, flopping down onto your bed and pushing your used pillow into the floor.

Your phone dings and you lazily grab it from your nightstand and look at the notification, reading that the pizza delivery is on its way.

Pushing yourself up, you get out of bed and go to throw on some ratty pajamas when you pause.

You pull out a sleeker, prettier matching pj set—a thin teasing top with matching shorts. Deciding to try your luck, you put them on and give yourself a once over in the mirror. You fluff your hair and apply a quick layer of gloss on your lips, puckering them at the mirror before grinning at yourself.

Spinning around, you make your way out of your room and into the shared living space hoping to, subtly, grab Leon’s attention as you hang out for the night.

It works or at least maybe it does—it could be you’re looking too much into things; frowning to yourself, you shake your head and go back to relaxing on the couch. The pizza’s long since gone and now you’ve been chilling in the living room, watching b-rate horror flicks and chatting. You at least think Leon has been looking at you when you weren’t paying attention, but it’s hard to say when you’re not paying attention.

You sigh out loud and cross your legs.

“Something the matter?”

You start and turn to Leon with a sheepish smile, “Yeah just thinking.”

He squints his eyes at you, “Mmhmm.”

You laugh this time and kick out your foot to push his knee with your toes, “Fuck off, it’s nothing important.”

He grabs your foot and presses his thumb in the arch making you suck in a sharp breath.

“You’ve been on your feet all day, haven’t you?” he asks, eyes looking down to his hands now rubbing your foot.

You feel like melting into the couch cushions, a hot coil of want slowly unraveling in your belly.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, “was a long day.”

His brow pinches as he looks back up to you, “Did you talk to your boss about—“

You groan and flop back into the couch arm, kicking your other foot up into Leon’s lap, “Yes, mom. I talked to him and he said until we can hire a replacement, that we’re all just gonna have to ‘do our best for the team’.”

You roll your eyes and grumble, “Like he even does anything more than clock in.”

Leon grabs your other foot and traces along the arch, “I can go talk to’em if you need me to.”

Your smile spreads across your face, “You really would, wouldn’t you? You’re so sweet, Leon.”

His blue eyes drag up from your legs and skimpy sleep shorts, across your body with the nearly sheer top, to look up into your face, “You need someone to take care of you from the sounds of it.”

You gasp out loud at that and Leon wraps his hands around your calves, yanking you down the couch til your ass lands in his lap.

“Hoping I would notice your slutty little getup, honey?” his smoky voice murmurs in your ear, snapping the band of your shorts, “trying to show me what I’m missing out on, huh?”

Your head spins from the complete 180 Leon is pulling, but you feel a thrill run down your spine.

“Just wanted to feel pretty,” you say, feeling hot all over, hands plucking at the hem of his shirt.

“So pretty, baby,” he affirms, hands running up your calves to your splayed thighs, thumbs softy grazing your skin.

His hands slide from your thighs, up your hips to pet at your sides.

“Heard you get off earlier too, honey,” he whispers hotly in your ear, “walls are thinner than you think.”

You lean back to look him in the eye, “B-but how? I thought you were in the shower.”

He grins at you, “I forgot something so I stepped out to grab it. Not like it’s the first time hearing you anyway.”

Embarrassment makes you squirm on his lap, ducking your head down, “I didn’t know.”

“Sure, baby,” he kisses your jaw, fingers dipping below the band of your shorts and panties, fingers finding your leaking hole and slowly sinking into your pussy.

“Leon!” You cry out, spine arching until your chest is pressed against him.

“How d’you think I don’t hear you?” He rumbles, making your nipples stiffen in your shirt, “stuffing your fingers in that needy fucking cunt night after night.”

You gasp, hips rocking down into his fingers, pussy clenching around the digits.

“M sorry,” you hiccup, eyes watering, “I’ll do better.”

“Yeah you will,” he rubs his thumb across your swollen clit, “cause I’m gonna start giving this little pussy what she needs, whenever and wherever I want. Sound good?”

“Leon,” you whimper, hands grabbing at his forearms, tendons flexing as he keeps finger fucking you on the couch.

“Seems like every night, I’m in my room stripping my cock raw from those hot breathy moans you make,” he murmurs in your ear, low and smoky, “wore my fleshlight out the first month you moved in, baby.”

Your eyes rolls back as slick leaks from your pussy all over his hand.

“Like that huh,” he laughs, tongue dipping in your ear before he places a wet kiss on the shell, “s’true, never made such a mess til you moved in, always fucking into that fake pussy thinking of yours.”

You moan high in your throat, “Leon, please, want you so much.”

“Yeah? Y’sure? Don’t want me using my toy, want me in this needy cunt?”

“Yes, yes,” you grind your hips down harder, his fingers stretching your hole open, “want it so bad.”

You whine and tug at his wrist til he finally slides his fingers out of your drenched pussy.

“Gonna give it to you sweetheart,” he promises you, eyes heated and dark, “gonna fuck you open right here, and then I’m gonna bend you over that kitchen counter and eat your pretty pussy til you cry for me.”

“Leon!” You gasp wantonly, “in me please. Wanna feel you.”

He pulls out his hard cock, smacking the head against your clit, making your hips jump.

“Sit on me, want you to ride me baby,” he grins, guiding his dick into your drippy hole but not pressing in any further.

You whimper and rock your hips, easing down his thick cock inch by inch until you’re sitting flush against him. He’s so deep in your pussy, it feels like he’s in your throat. You moan as he grinds up into you, fingers pinching and tugging at your hard nipples.

“Mmm just like that baby, feel so much better than that plastic pussy,” he groans, twisting your nipples until you’re whining, “god, love the sounds you make.”

Pulling his hands away, he slaps across your breasts making your back arch your chest towards him.

“Leon,” you mewl, tears slipping from your eyes because of the sting.

“I know,” he soothes, slapping across your tits again, “feels good doesn’t it, baby?”

You dig your nails into his big biceps, bouncing down in his lap to stuff his cock repeatedly into your hole.

He slaps across each hard nipple until they’re puffy and swollen. You moan and hump down on him harder, the pain bleeding into pleasure and making you even wetter. One hand dips between your bodies to softly rub across your clit; he drags his fingers lower to stroke your pussy lips, getting his fingertips wet and dragging them back up to circle around your swollen bud.

“Greedy little thing aren’t ya, honey?” he laughs deep in his chest, “c’mon ride me a little harder, baby.”

He moves both of his hands down to grab the fat of your ass and fuck up harder into your clenching pussy.

“Leon,” you moan, fingers digging into the tense muscles on his shoulders, “gonna cum.”

“Already?” he scoffs, “pretty easy cunt ya got here then, sweetheart.”

You cry out, the sound of skin slapping and your pussy squelching from his rapid thrusts are so loud in the small living room, making your walls flutter and clamp down on his pistoning cock.

“Wanna cum,” you sloppily kiss down Leon’s jaw to his neck, sucking a bruise into his skin, “want you to cum with me.”

Leon groans, sounding pained, “Sure, honey. Where do you want it?”

“My mouth,” you pant out quickly, “cum in my mouth, please.”

“Fuck,” he laughs choppily, “okay then sweetheart. I’ll cream your little throat.”

You whine and rock your hips down faster, “Yes, yes, Leon, so good.”

One hand moves to your hip to help you keep up a quick rhythm and the other goes back to rubbing and flicking your sensitive clit.

“C’mon, honey, cum on my cock so I can fill that pretty mouth,” he smirks and shakes the hair out of his face, “you can do it, be a good girl and cum for me.”

Leon bottoms out in your pussy and just grinds against your g-spot as he teases and pinches your clit; your thighs lock up as your orgasm washes over you, pussy clamping down and milking his cock, clit throbbing under his thumb as he keeps up the slow steady circles on the sensitive nerves.

“Good girl, good girl just for me,” he noses your hairline, feeling your body shake as he overstims your clit, “get in the floor, honey, ‘m ready for you to swallow this load.”

You moan and arch up, begrudgingly pulling yourself off of his dick so you can kneel between his thighs on the floor.

“Want it, Leon,” your glazed eyes peer up at him, watching as he fists his cock in front of your mouth.

“Oh you’re gonna get it, baby,” he grunts, “open that fucking mouth.”

You part you lips and loll your tongue out, whining when you feel hot spurts of jizz land on your tongue and lips.

“Fuck that’s it,” he groans, watching you with sea dark eyes, hand slowly stroking his dick, feeding each spurt of cum into your open, eager mouth.

You moan, the sound garbled from the cum pooling on your tongue and sliding down your throat.

With one last groan, he lets go of his twitching cock. You watch as it droops, a drop of cum beading on the fat tip making you duck froward to lap at the head.

“Baby,” he hisses, “a little early for me to go again,” he laughs and rubs his thumb across your bottom lip.

Your tongue darts out to lap at his thumb, “S’good though?”

“The best, sweetheart,” he leans down to pull you up in his lap, “can’t wait to taste you later.”

You sigh, eyes drooping in pleasure. Guess that pajama set really did work out in your favor.

#roommate!leon s kennedy #they were roommates #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #fem!reader #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon s kennedy smut #resident evil smut

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milesmolasses · 10 months

Note

maybe e-42 miles x black fem fashion designer reader 👉🏾👈🏾 and she makes all different types of clothes like street wear and party dresses, and some girls even pay her to make their prom dresses and miles being her model for stuff.

my lil fashionista (e-42 miles x african!reader)

— I’ve added a small twist to this request I hope you don’t mind

— designer… but make it african

— this song has been on my mind all day

— ⚠️: use of the igbo language, some things may be confusing because they are written in broken african english, cursing, this one is on the longer side

in your room scattered with fabrics and sewing materials, you were on the phone with a last-minute client who wanted a prom dress done for her daughter. she was a close friend of your mothers and she called you expecting you to help her out on this last minute request, with prom only a month and a half away. but hey, if she was willing to pay double, who were you to refuse?

she was sending designs and inspo pictures, as well as different materials she wanted you to use on the dress. your mind was reeling, trying to write everything down as she spoke to you on the phone about all of the measurements of her daughter.

"ah, see the picture I sent to you now on whatsapp, that's kind of the style of dress we want for her. the long skirt one," she yelled into the phone. you could hear all the traffic from the road she was on, as well as gospel music from the speakers of her car.

"aunty have you changed the colors of the dress now?" you asked, praying she would say no as you looked at the photo she sent. you had already taken the fabrics out of your wardrobe and laid them out, so a change in colors would only stress you out more.

"no, same colors—"

just then, the woman was cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. you could hear it buzz on the wood of your floor, and when you went to check on who it was, you saw it was your boyfriend miles. "ahhh leave me nah!" you groaned as you picked up the phone to decline his call.

"are you talking to me?"

"no! no no no aunty, someone called me sorry," you pleaded, not wanting to seem rude to the woman who was paying you good money to make a dress on such short notice. you haphazardly threw your phone to your bed as you focused on remembering all of the measurements she told you and writing them down.

"biko (please), what did you say her busts were?" you requested.

"ahn that one is—"

just as she was about to tell you the measurement, your phone cut off. looking at the device on your bed, you saw miles was calling you again. you sucked your teeth as you declined his call, once again. knowing miles, you placed your phone on dnd to make sure you wouldn't get any more of his calls.

you sighed as you just decided to re-take all the girls' measurements whenever she got to your house.

"am nearing your house now, can you buzz me in?" the woman on the other line asked of you.

"of course, just tell me whenever you ring," you said. the commotion and traffic you heard before were gone. "she must be close," you thought to yourself.

you threw your notebook and pen alongside your phone on your bed as you went to focus on the half-finished dress on your mannequin. it was your own prom dress that you chose to make completely on your own, choosing to go for a more cultural look this prom season. you left the needle and thread looped through the sleeve of the dress to attend to the client you had on the phone, but now you went back to the dress you were working on.

the top of the dress was a beautiful, deep, dark red corset with jewels decorating the bust of the dress going all the way up to the sleeves. a swirl pattern of shimmering vines decorated the rest of the top portion. the bottom of the dress—a beautiful maroon color that was also decorated in shimmering, floral vines— went straight down in a tight fit to accentuate all your curves. not yet added to the dress, was the matching train, which you would sew later.

you were about to make the last loop around before finishing off the first sleeve of the dress when you heard a buzz from the front of your apartment. sticking a random hole in the dress to place the needle in, you tugged your bonnet off your head and ran to the buzzer. after buzzing the woman in, you waited by your door patiently.

after a few minutes, your doorbell rang. after waiting a few seconds to make it seem like you weren't literally right next to the door, you unlocked the door and swung it open.

"Y/N, kedu ka ị mere? (how are you),” she asked, leaning in to hug you.

“adị m mma aunty (i'm fine aunty), I was just finishing up a dress i’m working on," you responded. you looked at the girl right next to the woman; she looked just about your age.

"Adaoma you don't greet? is this not your agemate?" she looked to her daughter who made a face of discomfort. you understood exactly what she was feeling as her mother said that, so you shook your head as you chuckled and smiled.

"it's fine aunty, come inside both of you," you affirmed as you walked backward into your apartment.

as they sat down on your couch, you turned to your kitchen and headed straight for the fridge, "do you guys want some lemona—"

you couldn't even get the sentence out as you heard your buzzer buzz again. without thinking, you walked to your door and buzzed whoever the perpetrator was in.

"ah ah, are you having visitors?"

"no, it's probably just my mom. I think she forgot her key on her way to the market," you reasoned. walking back to your kitchen, you poured two glasses of lemonade into glasses and walked back to the living room couch where your visitors stayed.

"thank you my dear," said the woman. her daughter mumbled a small "thank you" as you handed them the cool drink.

"I have the measurements written down somewhere, hold on," you said, running to your room.

as you were searching your room for the small book you kept full of measurements and designs, you heard your doorbell.

"fuck where is it?" you whispered, scolding yourself for losing it so easily. your bell rang again, and then it rang a third time.

"oh my god— I'M COMING!"

finally, after recking your room completely, you found the book on your bed right next to your phone. you were too happy to beat yourself up about how stupid you were to not check your bed first, so you ran back to the living room, placing your things on the small coffee table.

you muttered an apology to your guests as you turned to the door, unlocking it. who you expected to see was your mom frantically telling you about how she left her keys at home before going to the market. however, what you were met with instead only made you even more annoyed.

"why you not answering the phone, hm?" came a deep, calm voice from the other side of the door.

sighing, you calmly tried to collect yourself, tilting your head back and saying a small prayer to the lord up above.

"miles, please. i'm doing something right now," you pleaded. the last thing you needed was your passive-aggressive boyfriend pissing you off when you already had so much to get done.

tilting his head forward, he peeked into your apartment looking at the people sitting on your couch. when he saw that the older woman was wearing a blouse with an African print—an Ankara blouse— he knew to watch his mouth when he entered your home.

"Y/N, who is that? is it your mum?" she questioned. sighing, you opened the door wider, revealing miles standing there with his head down facing you.

"no aunty, one of my friends came to visit," you said, putting on the fakest smiles known to man.

"introduce yourself, friend—" you grunted that last part, hoping miles got the message.

"good afternoon ma'am, my name is miles," he said walking up to the lady to shake her and her daughter's hands. he gave a small smile to seem less intimidating than he usually did and straightened out his back a little.

pulling miles away from your guest, you excused the both of you, walking over to the kitchen. "are you insane just coming here like you own this place? you couldn't even bother to call me before showing up here?" you whispered, not needing anyone but miles to hear you.

"excuse me, but you're the one ignoring my calls and leaving me on delivered. I sent you like ten messages but you ain't even look at them huh?" he accused sounding annoyed with you. you thought back to when he was calling you and you ignored him completely, going as far as to put your phone on dnd.

"if you did look at my messages, you would've seen one of me telling you I'm coming over. but you obviously too busy for me," he chuckled, but ain't shit was funny to him. "my fault, lemme get out your way—"

cutting him off, you grabbed his hand under the kitchen island to make sure any lingering eyes couldn't see you. you never want him to feel like you don't have time for him, miles was everything to you.

"no, no i-i'm sorry miles, i'm just a lil stressed right now. i'm handling a lot... don't go, baby stay."

he sighed looking around the room. he was definitely mad in the moment, but he understood what you were dealing with right now at this moment. he squeezed your hand from under the island and nodded his head yes. immediately, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug with a smile.

that was until you heard a cough coming from your living room. turning your head, you were met with the eyes of a wide-eyed woman with her hands folded on her lap, seeming very uncomfortable. almost immediately, you shoved miles away from you and turned to face the woman.

"ahem, uh, s-sorry aunty— i'll be right there," you said looking down at your feet ashamed. you turned to miles and gave a small head nod towards your bedroom, signaling him to reside in there until you were finished.

It only really took around 30 minutes for you to discuss plans on what the dress would look like, and to take the girl's measurements. she showed you her pinterest board of prom dresses she had in mind and you even helped her settle on a photo for you to refer to while making the dress. after the thirty minutes were over, you gifted them some puff puffs your mom cooked earlier that morning and bid them farewell.

sighing in exhaustion, you walked back to your bedroom ready to relax and focus on your current project, only to find your boyfriend hovering over it. he looked absolutely entranced at the sight of the dress, from the jewels sewn into the plunging neckline to the way the rest of the dress shinned whenever the sun from your window hit it just right. he'd seen you wear clothes like this to weddings and whatnot, but every time you managed to blow him away with how effortlessly gorgeous you looked in them.

"it's stunning mi reina," he said, finally turning to face you. you walked up closer to him and leaned your entire body into his, wrapping your arms around his waist. "you think so?"

"baby I know so. you don't even have the dress on and i'm blown away," he reassured to you as he held you closer to him.

looking up at him you reached up to peck his lips, that was until he moved his head back to avoid your kiss.

"what's wrong?" you questioned.

he smirked down at you as he shrugged his shoulders, "nothin', i'm just wondering when you gon' make me a nice suit to match ya dress."

— lord have mercy

— i’m like dying here

— please read lol (｀_´)ゞ

#miles morales #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #earth42 miles #miles g #prowler miles #into the spider verse #e-42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles #miles g morales #miles g x reader #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #spiderman miles morales #spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse

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lattaeyongs · 2 years

Text

summer of love (ljn)

original gif

↳ pairing: lee jeno x reader

↳ word count: 15.2k

↳ genre: ‘90’s!au, brother’s best friend!au, summer!au, neighbor!au, slice of life(ish)!au, fluff, slowburn

↳ summary: The summer of 1997 was a weird time. As a person living in the modern era, you’d completely forgotten what it was like to live in the ‘90’s. In May 1997, you listened to the Backstreet Boys, flipped through TV Guide, and had an answering machine which seems so archaic now. But that isn’t the only reason why the summer of 1997 was weird. That summer was the time you fell for your brother’s best friend.

↳ warnings: minor cursing, making out

SUMMER 1997

Your second year of college is over. You’ve taken your last exam, and it’s finally time to ditch your dorm and lousy roommate to go back to your childhood home for the summer. It’s a three-hour drive with no rest stops from college to your home, but it took longer due to the gas station stops to get junky, sugary snacks and coffee. But eventually, you made it back home in one piece.

Your childhood home looks almost exactly the same as you left it: The old, green, flowery wallpaper that your parents keep forgetting the change still hangs in the kitchen, the brown carpet in the entry hallway with the weird stain is still there, and the pantry still has an endless supply of potato chips. The only thing missing are your parents.

“Y/N!” Renjun exclaims, coming to hug you. As your older brother's arms lock around you, you notice how different he feels despite last seeing him only two months ago; prickly stubble pokes at your skin, and he definitely has been working out.

He parts from you, moving to the answering machine sitting on the kitchen counter. “Where are mom and dad?” You ask.

“Out,” he says abruptly, playing the messages in the machine before clearing them out. “They’re shopping to make dinner. They thought you would come back later. And by the way,” he continues, “Jeno’s coming over.”

“Okay,” you respond back simply. At this point, you’re used to Lee Jeno; he’s practically your family, in that the Lees live only a few houses from yours. It is honestly a wonder how Renjun and Jeno have remained friends since they were five-year-olds running around the neighborhood grafitti-ing the sidewalks with colorful chalk designs without growing apart or finding people more apt to suit their developing selves as time passes. It seems that instead of growing apart because of the new scenes and sounds in their adult lives, they were growing together like two parallel vines despite the distance they had to combat in college. When you hear the doorbell a few moments later, you know it’s Lee Jeno.

He certainly looks different than what you remember with dark hair this time and a slight tan. You haven’t seen Lee Jeno since winter break when he was staying with his parents across the street. Just like you and Renjun, he’s back home from college after the school year, and you’ve seen him around a couple of times a year with all the school breaks.

“Y/N!” Jeno smiles in that very Jeno way that makes everyone’s heart melt. He leans down a bit to meet your eyes, taking his thumb and forefinger of his hand and squishing your cheek. You playfully bat his hand away.

“Quit doing that!” You giggle with a pout on your face. “I’m not a baby anymore! I go to college!” You say incredulously, a little bit of a whine in your tone.

“You’re always a baby to me,” he teases. You roll your eyes at this, moving over to let him in.

“Jeno!” Renjun yells, ditching the answering machine. He rushes over to hug the other boy. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too Jun,” Jeno replies. You smile at the sight.

“Let’s play pool,” Renjun says. Jeno agrees, nodding. Both boys go to the basement where your family’s famous pool table resides (your father having gotten it for free from some bar closing in the ‘70’s), and Jeno shuts the door loudly on his way out. You’re about to rain on Renjun’s parade and tell him to come back and clear the answering machine he left behind, but you think against it. You didn’t feel like interrupting a friendship that is so beautiful. So you sit on the chair that Renjun recently left, pressing the ‘listen’ button on the answering machine.

As you listen to the promotional spam calls from companies trying to sell you things that you didn’t need or couldn’t afford, you purse your lips. Seeing Renjun and Jeno together almost made you jealous; none of your high school friends were back from college, and through the few calls you all would have during the school year, they’re off doing bigger and better things than this sleepy town that you call home.

That night you were going to sleep in your bedroom filled with cassette tapes, posters and pink and yellow wallpaper that you picked out when you were seven. After satisfactorily wrapping yourself in your comfortable blankets that smelled of lavender detergent (your favorite scent), you stare at the ceiling. You couldn’t imagine not visiting this place.

So you have a secret. No, not of the deep dark kind, but something that would definitely earn you a lot of teasing if your friends and family found out about it. One of your biggest guilty pleasures is the movie series The Zygon Kingdom, a science fiction franchise about alien invasions. Stereotypically, people think this series is for losers, gamers, and nerds who live in their mom’s basement. When you’re in public, you try your best to refrain from comment or make fun of the series alongside others, but in private, you secretly anticipate the new movies, going to see it immediately when it comes to theaters.

And that’s what you’re planning on doing today. Today is the release of the fifth movie of the franchise, The Zygon Kingdom: A New World. Finally, you actually had plans; you were starting to look pathetic with how much TV you were watching; your parents were even joking that the most recent book that you’ve read is the TV Guide that was mailed a few days ago. On top of not having friends to hang out with this summer, Renjun, a fresh graduate from a pre-law program, has been running around town trying to find positions to start paying off his degree debts and to gain experience while also trying to study for the LEET exam to qualify for law school. All your friends and family being busy would be depressing to you on any normal day, this comes to your advantage today, for you don’t want to be seen.

“I’m going to see a friend. Love you.” You say quickly to your parents. With how immersed they are in Full House, their marked TV Guide beside them, you could have said that you wanted to get a tattoo, and your parents would probably not bat an eye.

“Okay, be safe honey,” your mother says dismissively.

Leaving through the basement, you go to your car outside, unlocking the door. Obviously, you’re carrying your big tote bag so you could sneak in snacks; you even went shopping at the convenience store to prepare. Once you’re finished with the ten minute drive from your home to the movie theater, you look in both directions before entering the line in the lobby of the theater to get a ticket. You’re going to pay in cash, not credit to make sure that this can’t be traced back to you, and you pull out a large flopping hat that you have saved in your car, placing it on your head the second you step out of the car. Yes, you were being completely paranoid, but the last thing you want is someone recognizing you as you go into the movie theater or your parents looking at your credit card statement to see that you went to the movie theaters to view The Zygon Kingdom.

The time you spent waiting in line is filled with you looking around in all directions, making sure to avoid gazes of anyone that went to high school with or parents whose kids you babysat. Gossip travels fast, and you didn’t feel like finding out how fast. This is a whole covert operation – you get in and you get out, hopefully with your reputation still intact.

“One ticket to the new Zygon movie,” you say quietly. The woman sitting at the counter almost doesn’t hear you because of how quiet you are or how loud the chatters are of high schoolers and adults coming to the movie theaters after a long week, but either way, she gives you your ticket.

“It’s in room B,” You’ve gone to this movie theater enough to know where everything is without needing a map or extra time to find your way around. Since you took into account Friday night traffic and the length of the line, you have about five minutes before the movie starts.

“Thank you,” you say, smiling quickly. Keeping your head low, you move your neck around as if your head is a moving surveillance camera, still trying to make sure that no one you know is seeing you walk into room B, which has a huge blue and yellow poster of The Zygon Kingdom: A New World right next to the door. Once the coast is clear, you head into the dark movie room, finding row sixteen, in the middle.

“Excuse me, excuse me,” you whisper to people who you had to cross to get to your seat. The room is at half capacity; a few advertisements are playing on the screen, for now you have three minutes before the movie starts (but it will probably be longer since ads play for at least ten minutes after the movie is supposed to start to give people extra time). You find a spot in the middle row, which is where the majority of those few people are because you can get a good view of the screen and the audio would be loud but not too loud.

Pushing down the foldable seat, you sit down. Bringing your purse to your lap, you pull out a bag of chips from your bag, opening it before the movie so that no one gets annoyed at you for opening it so loud. You adjust your sitting position, letting your left leg cross over your right one, and in the dark room, you accidentally kick the seat in front of you. It’s a loud sound, and you slightly grimace at the pain in your foot now. The person in front of you turns around, and you feel like you lost the air in your lungs.

“Jeno?”

“Y/N?”

After the movie incident, you and Jeno realize that you actually have more in common than you thought. Apparently, Jeno is in the same position as you when it comes to high school or local friends. Just graduated from college, his friends have found well-paying starting positions and internships, and except for a few people, he’s also been bored at home. Instead of finding a job immediately or stretching himself thin like Renjun, Jeno decided that it was best for him to take a break mentally after college, and then he would be on the job hunt. So now you two have been much more inclined to meet up.

This would have never happened a year ago. Sure, you would hang out with Jeno when Renjun invited you to hang out with them, and you would even have a good time, but by yourselves, you were a bit more than strangers. Now that doesn’t seem so.

“I still can’t believe that you like the Zygon Kingdom. Liking the Zygon Kingdom is so not you.” You say, grinning at Jeno. “I would never have pegged you as a fan,” You and Jeno are at an ice cream parlor, enjoying the shelter of this building better than the merciless afternoon sun outside. Lee Jeno, a college soccer star who gets all the girls liking a cheesy science fiction movie? That’s not something you learn every day. Picking at his chocolate ice cream, Jeno smiles at you too.

“I could say the same for you.” Taking a bite of your ice cream, you cross your legs under the table, a slightly pensive look on your face. Leaning forward, you put your elbows on the white table. “So what else do I not know about you?” You ask.

“Well,” Jeno tilts his head. “I like to dip my pizza in honey.”

“I know that,” you say. “Back when you and Renjun used to order pizza at the house, you would always ask me where the honey is.”

“You remember that?” Jeno asks, surprised. You shake your head, a disapproving frown on your face. “I only remember because you’re the only person in the history of humankind to dip your pizza in honey. Honestly, how do you even stomach that?”

“The same way you can eat that mint chocolate chip ice cream you have here,” he says, pointing to your cup. You gasp in mock offense, and he only continues. “That stuff tastes like toothpaste.”

“To make up for what you just said, you have to tell me something that I actually don’t know about you.” Jeno grunts and this, and you wait, tapping your foot against the tiles annoyingly.

“When I was a sophomore in high school, I went to one of Ten’s house parties,” he stops for a few seconds, and you look at him, your gaze willing for him to continue. “He brought in eight kegs of beer from God knows where, and I had a few drinks.”

“Shut up!” You say, pushing Jeno’s shoulder from across the table. You’re absolutely astonished. “You, Lee Jeno, student council representative for your entire high school career, got drunk while going to Ten’s parties?” You only know Ten through his reputation, specifically his outrageous house parties that he throws whenever his parents are out of town that almost always end with the cops coming to shut it down. They’re always the highlight of your high school class’s weekend in your sleepy little town, where the mall or the park are the most interesting places to go. You’ve never been to one of Ten’s parties yourself since in high school, you were never much of a partier (and you didn’t have the ‘contacts’ to get invited anyway), but you’ve heard that he’s the definition of a privileged rich kid with money to burn.

“Yes, that was me.” he laughs. “And, it gets better.” You lean farther forward, your cheek propped up by your fist. “I was so drunk that I couldn’t drive home, so I called Renjun at like midnight to pick me up. When I came into his car, it smelled like perfume, and he had lipstick all over his face. Yeri Kim was in the back of his car.”

Your eyes widened. “No way! Renjun told me he was studying for a history test!” You remember this day in-depth because it was the night of the freshman dance that you went to with your friends.

Jeno smiles at your astonished look before clearing his throat. “I told you something you didn’t know about me and something you didn’t know about Renjun, so you better tell me something good that I didn’t know about you.”

You sigh, tilting your head upwards. Pushing your tongue against your cheek, you’re deep in thought before you spring up in your chair again.

“Remember when you, me, and Mark would all volunteer at Taeyong’s animal shelter?” You ask. During your high school years, you were in desperate need of Honors Society hours to make you look better on your college applications, so you ended up signing up to take care of unadopted pets, either rescue or lost. Jeno, Renjun, and a few of his other friends had the same idea since it would be easy to carpool.

“Yeah?” Jeno responds. Bringing your palm against your mouth, you shelter some giggles before Jeno has a curious look on his face.

“Y/N? What is it?” You lick your lips before inhaling sharply.

“While getting in the parking lot with Renjun to get something from your car, do you remember getting hit by a bunch of water balloons?” Jeno squints for a few seconds as if trying to connect some invisible dots, and after a few moments, his eyes widen, his mouth in an “o” shape.

“That was you?” He says, astonished. “I blamed Chenle for that for an entire year!”

“Yup, it was me,” you say, giggling in between words.

“Why did you do it?” He asks.

“It was supposed to be for Renjun, but then you got in the way, and by that time, I already dropped the water balloons.” Jeno purses his lips, as if trying to picture you in the situation you described. This only leads you into another laughing fit.

“You should have seen your face, I will never forget how hilarious you looked and how you were like ‘Chenle if you’re working the dog walking on the ceiling, then I’m gonna kill you!’” You snicker, imitating Jeno’s voice by making it abnormally deep.

“I do not sound like that.”

“I do not sound like that,” you imitate again. Jeno crosses his arms, a brow quirked.

“Okay, I’ll actually stop this time,” you say, giggling.

After a few moments, Jeno laughs with you. The prospect of no friends in town seemed unfounded today, for there is a friend for you that has been sitting under your nose this whole time.

You’re sitting cross-legged on your bedroom floor as you organize your colorful array of CDs, different albums you’ve collected through various birthday monies and Christmas gifts. Not only are there CDs, but your shelf is loaded with cassettes. By this point, no one used cassettes anymore, but it was the easiest way to record songs from the tape radio and have to listen. You would simply put the cassette in your tape radio and press the ‘record’ button when radio stations would have their two hours ad free music. A mini cassette of free music was perfect to put in Renjun’s old walkman as you took a jog around the neighborhood. You learned this method two years ago from your father, who used this way to get free music in the ‘80’s, but now, you have a huge collection of songs that have become a pain to oragnize. You’re not exactly good at putting things back in their place, tending to grab your CDs and cassettes, use them, and then discard them on top of the little shelf you have.

Point is, this is an arduous task. This is why when you hear the phone ring in the living room, you run out to get it. Plus, if you didn’t answer it now, it would be your task to clear out the answering machine at the end of the day. So, now you had one less message to listen and clear out.

When you hold the house phone to your ear, you only hear a monotonous dial tone, signalling that the person hung up. You feel a little suspicious, but think nothing of it; sometimes, neighborhood kids find it funny to dial random numbers and not answering when the person picks up – like virtual ding-dong-ditching.

But your suspicion proves right when you feel wetness on your head. On the floor of your living room is a deflated balloon, and in your hair, you’re pretty sure it’s water. There’s only one person you think could be behind this, and he slowly comes out from the space he’s hiding in your kitchen. He smirks as he shows you a small corded phone connected to the wall, shaped like a lip (probably Jeno’s sister’s that he stole from her room). Before you can grab him in your kitchen, Jeno is running out onto the street.

“Lee Jeno what the hell?” You screech to the boy running down the street. You don’t bother to take your shoes, only closing the front door to prevent any animals coming into your house to take shelter from this hot weather. The heated pavement sings the soles of your feet as you run, but the feeling doesn’t bother you: you’re on a hot (literally hot) pursuit of Lee Jeno, and in the distance, you can see him.

“Damn these short legs,” you mutter. You run and you run through the neighborhood. Lee Jeno has you taking sudden turns, trying to get you to break your tail on him, but it’s unsuccessful. Finally when you’re close enough, you spring forward onto Jeno’s back. He sways at the sudden weight, falling to the ground. Thankfully, you’re on grass, which is cooler to the pads of your feet and breaks Jeno’s fall.

“What was the meaning of this?” You ask, pointing to your dripping head.

“It’s a little something called payback.” He smirks.

“Hey, there’s a difference,” you start off, “Mine was on accident. It was supposed to hit Renjun. Your’s was on purpose.” You cross your arms, pouting.

“Well, then this was supposed to teach you not to be mean to your brother.”

“Siblings in the same age group act like this all the time,” you say. You then put your index to your chin. “At least if you’re like me and Renjun.” If Jeno pulled something like this on his older sister Jihyeon, who is six years older than him, he wouldn’t survive to tell the tale.

The boy in front of you sucks in a big breath. “Let’s settle this once and for all then,” Jeno says. He comes closer, his body only a few inches from yours. “A game.” He smiles. “I have some water balloons at home. If you win–”

“You have to give me 20,000 won.” You finish. Jeno raises his eyebrow. “There’s a new Backstreet Boys album I want,” you say.

“Alright, fine,” Jeno says. “But if you lose,” Jeno stops midway, trying to bite his lower lip in a way to shelter the huge smirk on his face. “You have to clean my car.”

“Too easy, all I’ll need is a hose,” you wave your hand.

“Not the outside.” Your eyes widen at this new development.

“You mean…”

“Yup. The inside.” You’ve never been in Jeno’s car yourself since mostly when you would hang out with Jeno, it would be with Renjun, which means that you’re using Renjun’s car. But Renjun has told you, pretty infamously, that his car is messy and smells like a giant foot.

“That’s cruel and unusual punishment!” You say. Let’s just say if Renjun thinks it’s smelly, it’s probably smelly. Renjun has been a teenage boy before, and many teenage boys are a species that usually cannot detect the lack of hygiene.

“Those are the parameters of the game,” Jeno says. “If you resign now, that’s considered a loss, which means you have to clean my car anyway.”

You flatten your lips. Damn, you’re in a deadlock now.

“Fine. Game on.”

Lee Jeno destroyed you. But honestly, what else did you expect? Lee Jeno, who has played soccer his whole life and has had plenty of experience with strategy and planning, completely and utterly destroyed you. It wasn’t the smartest idea to go guns-blazing with water balloons at Jeno, but you didn’t have many other choices. Your long-distance aim and contact skills weren’t that good, for you never played “sports,” sports as in competitive sports since you only danced for a couple of years. You did use your surroundings well, hiding behind trees and bushes so you can stalk your way to Jeno, but that only did so much.

So now you are wearing an old T-Shirt and some jeans shorts, opening the front door and performing the ‘walk of shame’ as you walk to Jeno’s house, where boxes of unopened trash bags, air freshener, sponges, and soapy water sit.

Jeno is only a few feet away from the cleaning materials he left out, sitting on a beach chair.

“Y/N,” Jeno says, waving to you in a friendly way. “Thank God you’re here. I was worried you might happen to forget about the deal. I really need you right now,” Jeno chuckles, “because my mom wanted me to clean my car last week. She said that if I don’t clean my car by tonight, then she’s really gonna give it to me.”

“Good,” you say, laughing a bit to yourself. “Somebody’s gotta tell you. Back in high school, I was afraid to get in this car, or else I would never be the same again.”

Scrunching your nose, you peek your head inside Jeno’s car. It’s an old 1984 Nissan 300zx, most likely used because if his parents are anything like your parents (which not so surprisingly, growing up around each other, they are), they would never give their teenage sons brand new cars. The people in your neighborhood certainly aren’t tearing at the seams with money.

Gulping harshly, you decide to throw whatever junk you find in the car away. You pulled out wrappers, chip bags, old water bottles, and random coins that you pocketed (Jeno let you since even he knows how bad cleaning his car is – which is why he held off on it for so long). Jeno kept you good company, and you found yourself chitchatting with him as you organized every piece of junk in his car in a trash bag.

“Are you liking college so far?” Jeno asks broadly when chatter between you both slowly dies. No response.

“What’s wrong?” Jeno asks. He knows he’s right to think that when it takes you a few minutes to respond, a few moments for your gaze to focus on him.

“College hasn’t been that fun,” you confess to Jeno, the words falling out of your mouth faster than it should. “I haven’t made a lot of friends despite finishing my sophomore year, and my roommate is a pain. Her entire side of the room is so messy and acts like I’m unreasonable. It’s a small space anyway, she should keep it clean!” You huff, scrubbing the cloth seats in Jeno’s car harder. It felt as though a huge weight has been lifted off of your shoulders.

You were surprised that you confessed this to Jeno of all people. When you told Renjun this freshman year, he advised that it would get better after the first semester, and your parents said the same thing, but nothing really changed. You’re going to university on a significant scholarship, and you didn’t want to give that up if you decided to transfer somewhere closer to home, closer to your support network of familiar places and people. Ever since then, you didn’t tell anyone how miserable you were in college.

“Can I make a confession?” Jeno asks suddenly. You were worried that you were being way too personal after Jeno didn’t say anything for a while; after all, Jeno is your brother’s friend and not yours.

“Shoot,” you say.

“I didn’t have many friends in college either. Why do you think I always hang out with Renjun every summer?” You’re piling all the trashbags together near the edge of the Lee property for the trash truck to come later today, but hearing this is enough for you to turn around and look at the raven-haired boy quizically.

“I don’t believe that,” you scoff. “You have teammates and a hundred girls who would tattoo your name on their chests immediately.”

“They’re just teammates and girls. I got along with my teammates, but I don’t talk to them on a regular basis after graduating college.” Jeno sighs. “And the girls who liked me in college liked me because I was ripped. None of them really wanted to know me personally.”

The silence between you both is deafening. You purse your lips, sympathy in your voice. “I had no idea.”

“Most people don’t,” Jeno says. “I try not to tell everyone this,” he says, a slight humorous lilt in his voice.

“Those girls missed out,” you say, a soft smile on your face. “You’re hilarious and great to be around.”

“It seems like I have that effect on the members of the Huang family,” Jeno smiles, any sign of melancholy gone from his face.

“Say,” you start off, bending down to reach the mat on the car floor. “if I find something I think is of value in this car, then can I keep it?”

Jeno nods. “Sure, I guess. I can’t imagine what could be of value.”

“Now I’m 20,000 won richer,”

Jeno’s back instantly becomes more rigid as he sees you wave a few crumpled bills in the air, almost unrecognizable due to the amount of dust and grime accumulated on it. A couple of coins here and there were tolerable for him to let you keep, but 20,000 won is a lot for loose change in the car. “I tend to find 20,000 won very valuable,” you smile.

Jeno curses under his breath. “Touche.”

“I guess we both won.” You shrug your shoulders, “You’re gonna have a clean car for your mom, and I have enough money to buy that Backstreet Boys album.”

Just the other day, you ran into Taeyong, the owner of the pet shelter you used to volunteer at. You were at the supermarket, picking up some groceries for your parents when you saw the man carefully weighing a bag of Roma tomatoes. Although he is almost five years older than you, it certainly doesn’t seem that way with how youthful his face looked, and when he noticed you putting bananas in your shopping cart, he was glad to see you. You both engaged in pleasant conversation about your lives since you volunteered at his pet shelter, and he mentioned to you that he was short of hands. Recently, a full-time employee quit, and he needed people more than ever. He offered you a job on the spot, and you gladly took it – you needed something to do this summer anyway, and your parents were starting to get a little restless with how much you were at home, revolving your life around TV Guide.

You had been working for a few days at the store and got to know the two other employees, one of which is Doyoung, who you already knew from your time volunteering at this shelter, and Sungchan, a boy around Jeno’s age who had been working for a year. Compared to the last time you saw this shelter as a senior in high school, not much has changed. The only thing that was different was that the walls were recently wallpapered.

Taeyong greeted you when you walked in, and you already started following a routine you set up for yourself; the good thing about hiring you was that he didn’t have to teach you much since as a volunteer, you would feed and wash animals a couple of hours a week, which as an employee, that was the same thing on a fuller time basis. In the mornings, you liked to start off walking dogs in the dog walking area on the roof before the sun would shine mercilessly in the afternoon. Carrying a light brown golden retriever puppy named Dasom, you head down the roof stairs back to the lobby, where Jeno is sitting on a hard, metal chair.

“Jeno?” You ask. “What are you doing here?” You don’t ever remember telling him that you would be here.

Jeno smiles at you. “Your mom told me I could find you here. And some other guy said you were walking a dog, so he told me to wait here.”

You nod. He must not have meant Doyoung since he would already know him from his time at the pet shelter in high school. “So you must have met Sungchan.”

Jeno shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess. He said he was going to wash some of the new arrivals.” While speaking, Jeno’s lips curled into a small smile. “Remember when we used to do that?”

“God,” you say, shaking your head. “That was one of the worst jobs.” You said. If there was anything that dogs and cats hated was being in water. New arrivals, especially strays, haven’t been introduced to clean water in a long time and can get especially rowdy since they are also untrained.

“There was one dog that me, Renjun, and Chenle had to wash, and let’s just say that it looked like we took a bath too!” At this, you both laugh.

You lick your lips, looking at Jeno, good humor in your eyes. “I almost feel bad leaving Sungchan all by himself.” Crossing your arms and leaning your back against the wall, you look at Jeno, your head cocked.

“So what are you really doing here?”

Jeno looks fondly in the distance. “I think Bongshik needs a new playmate,” you smile at Jeno. For as long as you can remember, Jeno has always been a cat person, and after much convincing, his parents agreed to get him a cat seven years ago. They initially were only getting Jeno the cat to help teach him responsibility, because as a teenage boy, he had none, but slowly, Bongshik grew on them too. Ever since, the Lee family’s soft spot has been Bongshik.

“Do your parents know?” You ask.

Jeno smiles. “They were the ones who suggested the idea.” As Bongshik grew older, his energy hasn’t quelled, and for the lack of neighborhood cats, he follows the Lee family around everywhere in the house.

“What breed?” you ask.

“Maybe a Bengal. I’ve heard that they are energetic.”

“I think there are some Bengals. Let’s check the back.” You both go into the room adjoining the lobby, where the rescue and stray animals were stored. After a long night with Doyoung yesterday, the cages were cleaned, and all the animals looked happy that it was clean. You both are greeted with excited barks from the dog section of the room, and finally, you approach the cats in another room. Cats of various breeds occupied the segregated space, from Shorthairs to Bobtailed cats. Black, white, gray, and tabbies are all present, and they look at you and Jeno quizically.

Jeno also observes the felines intently. “Actually, Bongshik is full of energy, so maybe a bit of a quieter playmate to contrast,” Jeno taps his chin, thinking to himself. Some cats wave their tails at Jeno as if wanting his attention while some other cat mothers wrap their tails around their young, protecting them. There are two cats that seem to take his attention, two cats that are sitting together. They don’t appear to have any sort of genetic or familial relationship, for one cat is white with a few specks of black around the ears while the other is a gray tabby with a white chest; they both appear to be Shorthair crossbreeds, though.

“Can I hold that one?” Jeno says, pointing to the white one with the few black specks. You open the cage with the master key that you have in your pocket, and carefully, you take the cat out of the cage. Jeno has his arms open, so when you place the cat in his arms, he cradles the animal, the most adoring look on his face. The other cat seems to be annoyed and meows a lot, its gaze on the white cat, and the white cat starts meowing back.

You and Jeno both melt on sight.

“So cute,” Jeno murmurs, putting the tip of his nose on the crown of the white cat’s head. This cat does not seem to be bothered that it’s being held by Jeno (when most cats take some time getting used to a new human). It is as if they were both destined to meet. This cat does turn to face his companion still in the cage once in a while, still meowing.

“I think this one’s more concerned that its friend is not being held,” you jest. You stand on your tiptoes to grab the other, carefully cradling the tabby in your arms. It starts meowing for its companion, and you face Jeno.

“This one’s also so cute,” Jeno says longingly. He comes closer to you, bending a little, his face close to the tabby that you’re holding. His smile is wide, his eyes shaped like crescents. Carefully, he holds the white cat with one cradled arm, and with the other, he uses his index and middle finger to pet the other cat. The tabby meows happily.

As Jeno tries to stand upright again, his head almost bumps your face, but he stops before that, carefully meeting your gaze. For what feels like an eternity, you both stare. Jeno’s eyes are like brown pools, and you notice every detail on his face; how dark and pronounced his eyebrows are compared to his suntanned skin, how pretty his nose looks against his face, the fringe on his forehead that is so close to giving a lovetap to his eyes, how shapely his chin is, a small, stray mustache hair kissing his upper lip…

His lips. Pursed slightly as he drinks in the sight of the little details of your face as well. They look a little chapped –

“There you are Y/N! Is that you Jeno?” A familiar voice rings across the large room, and you notice it to be Doyoung. His gaze is focused on you both. You and Jeno immediately stop gazing at each other, as if Doyoung flipped a switch, and you both focus your attention on the raven-haired employee, his hair wet from a fresh shower. He usually comes to work at eleven or noon since he is not a morning person.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Jeno says, waving before repositioning his other hand to hold the white cat in his arms.

“Long time no see,” Doyoung remarks. “How’s college?” He asks.

“Graduated in the spring,” Jeno says. “I’m back with my parents now.” He says.

“Oh,” Doyoung says, nodding awkwardly. “Well, if you want a job, the door is always open here. Trust me, we need the help,” Doyoung says.

“Thanks,” Jeno says, smiling courteously at Doyoung. “I’m actually here to look for another cat. Maybe two,” Jeno looks at you, an eyebrow raised in anticipation. Suddenly, he sneezes.

“Jeno,” you chastise. “What about your cat allergy?” You suddenly remember. Jeno learned affirmatively after adopting Bongshik that he had a cat allergy, and his sister and parents tried to convince him to give Bongshik back to the shelter, but Jeno vehemently refused. After almost a month of bonding with the feline, he didn’t have the heart to give Bongshik back. Instead, he went to the drug store and got some anti-histamines to suppress his allergies and eventually got more personalized medicine from his doctor. At first, his doctor said the best (and cheapest) course of action would be to return Bongshik, but Jeno just took the prescription and has since then been refilling his prescription on a regular basis.

“What cat allergy?” Jeno asks, but he sneezes a few times. Cocking your head at the raven-haired boy, you snort.

“That cat allergy?” You say, leaning all your weight on one leg.

“It’s nothing,” Jeno says dismissively. “I’ll ask my doctor. I’ll probably just have to up my dose.”

It was Doyoung’s turn to snort. “Can you really be around three cats every day?” He asks. “The only reason your allergy didn’t get out of control while you were volunteering here was because I kept you with the reptiles.” You nod in agreement. The reptiles were kept in another room on the far side of this shelter, far away from all the cat hair floating around in this room. Jeno, though, still used to sneak a few minutes with the cats.

“I can be around three cats!” Jeno says defensively. By this time, the white cat is rubbing itself against Jeno’s T-shirt.

Feeling this, Jeno’s gaze softens, and he smiles at the kitten, whose brown eyes Jeno looks in to. “I am going to name you Seoli,” Jeno says in a soft tone and gazes at the cat in your arms. “And I’m going to name you Nali.”

“Did your parents agree to two new cats?”

“Well,” Jeno trails off, shrugging his shoulders.

“Lee Jeno!” You say.

“My parents grew to like Bongshik. They’ll grow to like Seoli and Nali.” Jeno reasons.

You roll your eyes. Lee Jeno is the only person in the whole world you know who has a cat allergy and still wants three cats. “Lee Jeno, you’re crazy, you know that?”

Seoli and Nali instantly got along with Bongshik. The three of them would sleep together, eat together, and roam the house together, only being apart momentarily. Like Jeno predicted, his parents grew to like the addition of Seoli and Nali to the family.

Hearing about the new cats from you, Renjun would visit Jeno, and you would come along with them and play with all three cats. Renjun started joking that you two started being best friends without him and that you were leaving him in the dust.

Renjun started a new job as a paralegal and became busier than ever; he was working to save enough money to live in an apartment closer to the law firm he worked at, which is forty-five minutes away from your house. The commute itself was tiring and he was working extra hard to get along with his coworkers, going to events, and establishing contacts.

Like many weekends, this weekend Renjun was hanging out with a few coworkers at a party at one of their houses, and normally, you didn’t mind this, only joking to him that he only came home to eat and sleep.

In mid-July, without fail, you and Renjun would always go to the beach, ever since he was old enough to drive; it was valuable “sibling time” that your parents supported and even suggested; as teenagers, you didn’t always get along, and your parents wanted you both to establish a close relationship because sibling relationships were the only life-long relationships.

This weekend, Renjun was busy, and for the next few weekends, he would be catching up with old friends and would even go on a few dates, for his dating life was pretty sparse with how busy college was. You were hoping that Renjun could blow someone off and come with you and not break the tradition, but your hopes did nothing to change reality after Renjun told you about his plans and apologized that he wouldn’t be able to come to the beach with you.

So you decided, if you can’t bring your brother to the beach, bring your brother’s best friend.

At 7 AM on a Saturday, you knock on Jeno’s door, a few doors from your house, dressed in a casual T-Shirt and jeans shorts. You’re ready to go, without a doubt in your mind that Jeno won’t come.

Jeno answers the door, rubbing his eyes. From the looks of the dark house, Jeno’s parents aren’t awake. As a means to hold himself up, Jeno leans against the door. He’s dressed in long pajama bottoms and a black T-shirt (that is littered with Seoli’s white cat hair). The white, spotted cat follows Jeno to the door, sitting a few feet away from the living room couch.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” He asks, his voice heavy with drowsiness.

“We’re going to the beach, obviously,” you say matter-of-fact, in a voice that Jeno didn’t look like he wanted to argue with. He knew that you were hurting because Renjun couldn’t come with you to the beach any time soon, so he was ready to be called to go to the beach.

“Right now?”

“Yes right now. Don’t you remember that Renjun and I would leave early in the morning to get a head start to the beach?” The closest beach to your house is two hours away, and being landlocked during the college semester makes you restless for the yearly summer beach trip as well.

“Yeah I know but–”

“No ‘buts,’” you interrupt. “If we leave now, then we get the whole day at the beach. Be ready in thirty minutes.”

Jeno acknowledges with a sleepy grunt before closing the door, and you head back to your house to eat breakfast. If you left hungry, then you would be tempted to stop along the way for snacks, making the drive longer. So you ate a hearty bowl of oatmeal, a banana, and drank a glass of water before seeing Jeno standing at your door twenty-five minutes later with one of his sister’s peach-colored tote bags hanging on his shoulder, in casual shorts and a T-shirt, and a navy colored cap covering his black hair. You already had your things ready in a bag next to the dining room table, and you carry your bag and exit out the front door, saying a quick goodbye to your parents.

Out on the porch, you jog across the driveway to Jeno, and your parents wave to him. “Have fun guys,” they chorus, smiling. You roll your eyes.

“It’s like they’re leaving us on a playdate,” you say, and Jeno smiles, the tiredness in his eyes long gone.

“Want to ride in my car? After all, it’s clean now,” Jeno says. You sigh, but it’s not exasperated or tired.

“I should know,” you say.

Jeno’s Nissan sits in its usual place on the driveway, and Jeno takes his keys from his pocket, unlocking the car. As you both load your bags onto the back seat, you breathe in the air. “Minty fresh,” you smile, looking at the tree-shaped car freshener hanging on the rearview mirror. “You better keep this car clean because I am not cleaning it again,” you threaten, pointing your finger accusingly.

“I pinky promise,” Jeno says, he extends his hand, his pinky out, and you grasp it with your pinky, pinkies locking as well as your gazes.

Jeno’s hands are way softer than you expected.

The pinky promise lasts way longer than you expected, with you quickly pulling away and getting into the front passenger seat of the car. Jeno hops in the driver’s seat, and the car starts.

Jeno’s driving is smooth, and through the window, you admire the scenery. You pull out of your neighborhood, driving on local roads for a good few minutes, and you admire the beautiful scenery of houses, shrubs, and picket fences before getting on the highway. Now, cars are zooming past you both, of all sorts of shapes and colors, minivans to sport cars, black, white, gray, and silver.

“Turn on some music,” Jeno prompts. It’s easy to get distracted on the road, not by external forces such as a random bird flying by, but from the lull of the car when driving on the highway – when driving on the highway, the roads look the same, a cause for boredom and tiredness. The steady humming of Jeno’s car is particularly relaxing on this early morning.

“I thought you would never ask,” you say, in a voice that sounds mischievous. You twist your body to reach the back of the car, and you reach into your bag, fishing for something. When you pull it out, Jeno rolls his eyes.

“Seriously?” Jeno groans.

“What? You said you wanted music,” you say defensively.

“I didn’t mean the Backstreet Boys.”

You don’t listen to him and instead press the ‘CD media’ button on the front dashboard and insert your CD. The music is catchy, and you hum along to the songs that you’ve loved, namely ‘I’ll never break your heart’ and ‘Everybody.’

“I’ll never understand girls. I mean, what’s the appeal of boybands anyway?” Jeno says after some time.

“It’s the group dynamic, the interactions, the teamwork, and the songs are catchy as –” you stop yourself, cocking your head at Jeno. “Are you nodding along?”

“N-No,” Jeno stutters, purposely keeping his gaze fixed on the road so he doesn’t have to face you.

“Admit it,” you say, a smug look on your face. “You like it.”

“No, I don’t” Jeno argues.

“Yes, you do,” you argue back.

“No I don’t,” Jeno repeats.

You snort at this. “Look at us, we sound like two five-year-olds.”

“I think,” Jeno says with a joking lilt, “that we sound like an old married couple.”

“That too.” You look at the boy, an eyebrow arched.

After a few moments of silence, Jeno changes the topic. “I’m hungry,” he says. “Let’s get some instant ramen.”

“Where’s the microwave, genius?”

Jeno pouts. “Fast food?”

“We’re gonna be there in like fifteen minutes. I have some snacks in my bag.” Once again, you reach for the back of the car, fishing inside the tote bag for a bag of Cheetos.

“Here,” you say, holding the bag towards him.

“I’m driving, genius,” he says, emphasizing the last part in a mocking tone. You roll your eyes.

“I guess you’re gonna have to feed me,” Jeno says.

“Seriously?” You groan.

“Yes. If I could open the bag with my eyes and feed the Cheetos with some mad telekinesis, then I would.”

“Well, you would have to keep your eyes on the road, so you still couldn’t do that either.” Jeno grunts at your response, and you silently feel a small victory winning this conversation.

You open the bag and take a Cheeto in your left hand. Jeno opens his mouth, and you place the piece in his mouth. He crunches on it, and when you see his Adam’s apple move as he swallows the snack, you reach in and grab another piece. On and on this pattern goes until there are no Cheetos left in the bag, and at the final time you drop a piece of the snack in his mouth, he playfully clamps down on your fingers.

“Jeno!” You exclaim.

Jeno has a youthful, playful look on his face. “That’s what you get for forcing me to listen to this crap.”

“You like it too!”

Jeno rolls his eyes. “Here we go again.”

The rest of the car ride is filled with laughs, as though you were supposed to bring Jeno along to the beach this year instead of Renjun. The beach is filled with people wanting to soak up some sun, children playing games, and surfers swimming in the water. Luckily, there’s enough beach for everyone; the sands on this beach are well-maintained, and they go on for miles.

Suddenly, you grab the boy’s wrist, and Jeno looks surprised, a cute doe-like expression on his face (Jeno has the most beautiful, expressive eyes).

“Come on,” you say, a wide smile on your face. “I’ll show you a nice spot.”

Together, the two of you are lugging your tote bags across the beach, careful not to step on anyone being buried in sand or children playing games or other people sunbathing. It’s like the sand wants to absorb your feet, which is why your steps are labored, along with the load you are carrying.

The spot you take Jeno is more secluded, with sparse surfers coming about here and there. It’s next to a jagged, gray peak, perfect for divers. The small pieces of eroding rocks falling to the water make it less kid-friendly, but it’s still a good spot if you want to relax and get away from the noise. Right here is where you decide to set up, a few yards from the shore where the cold seawater can’t touch you.

Carefully, you unpack your tote bag, set up your beach towel, and place a book on the sand. The beach was always a way for you and Renjun to relax together, talk about updates in your lives, and strengthen your relationship. But sometimes you both liked to sit in silence, enjoying each other’s company while enjoying the words of an author, the introverts you both are.

Before sitting down, you also take off your T-shirt and shorts, revealing a navy, strappy bikini underneath. Picking up your book, you open it to the first page and sit down. Next to you, Jeno takes off his shirt, revealing toned abs. (What did you expect? He plays soccer). You don’t want to admit that your attention on your book is long gone.

When Jeno catches you staring, an immediate flare of heat hits your face, and you quickly try to bring your attention back to your book, starting at the first sentence. You’re unable to keep focus anymore, just re-reading the same sentence at least five times because your brain is too distracted to understand the sentence.

“You don’t have to look away,” Jeno teases. “Every girl wants a look at Jenabs.”

“That’s what you’re calling it? Jenabs?”

“Yes. Is there a problem?” Jeno asks.

“Obviously. It sounds so self-centered,” you huff.

“You’re just lashing out because I caught you red-handed.”

“Maybe you’ll get a red hand to your pretty face,” you challenge, a humorous look in your eyes.

“Ah,” Jeno says thoughtfully. “You think I’m pretty?”

Another hot flare hits your cheeks, with the heat of a thousand suns. “No,” you say.

“Yes,” Jeno counters.

“No,” you repeat, this time more confident. By this time, you both are gazing at each other intently in silence, until suddenly, you start laughing. Jeno does too. It was one of those times when the moment seemed so serious, but the argument was just so silly.

“Just admit that you think I’m attractive,” Jeno says simply.

“Every girl with a pulse thinks you’re hotter than a sidewalk in August.” You deadpan.

“I don’t care what they think,” Jeno says suddenly. You quirk an eyebrow at this statement. Quickly, Jeno recovers himself. “I care about what you think.” He smiles. “You’re the only person I’ve known that hasn’t ever brought up my looks.”

“Why should I?” You shrug your shoulders. “You know you’re hot.” At this you and Jeno laugh again together, but after a few moments, Jeno stops laughing.

“So you admit it?” Jeno asks curiously.

“Yes, I do.” You say sighing, hating that you’re giving him this victory. “Lee Jeno, you’re one of the most attractive men I’ve seen in my whole life,” you vow. “Now, can I get back to my book?” You ask.

“Fine.” Jeno obliges. He sits down on his towel laid out beside yours, lying down on his back as you read your book. His gaze changes from the ocean’s waves licking the sandy shores to the side of your face. You’re maybe a chapter in when Jeno interrupts your train of thought.

“Are you really gonna be reading the whole time?” Jeno whines. “I didn’t bring anything to do because I thought we were gonna go in the water.”

“Th-The water?” You ask. You look at Jeno as if he grew a second head.

“Yes, water. We’re at the beach per your request. Remember?” Jeno says slowly.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think–”

“You didn’t think about swimming at the beach?” Jeno asks incredulously.

“No,” you respond, your voice small.

“You’re literally wearing a swimsuit,” Jeno points out.

“Yeah, but that’s just to get a good tan,” you say. Now that you say it out loud, it does sound kind of ridiculous that you didn’t even make plans about getting in the water today. “And plus,” you say a bit awkwardly. “I don’t really know how to swim.”

It seems as though Jeno’s eyes are about to bulge out of his face. “You’ve been coming to this beach for years, and you don’t know how to swim?”

“I never really learned how. I mean, I did, but I wasn’t very good, and I’m super out of practice. I usually just come here to read or admire the scenery – Jeno!” You exclaim. Jeno snatches the book out of your hand and places it on the towel. He’s strong enough to hoist you up, and you’re left with no choice but to jog along with him to the edge of the shore, kicking up mounds of sand; you have a stinking suspicion about what he’s going to do.

“Today’s the day I’m gonna teach you how to swim.” He says.

“B-But,” you stutter, struggling for words. Jeno doesn’t look like he’ll take no for an answer.

“I promise I won’t let go of you, and we won’t go far from the shore.” He says, his gaze sincere. “Let’s start off with floating. Spread your arms out and kick your feet up. Act as though you want to lie down on the water like it’s sand. Like this.” Jeno demonstrates, going slightly away from the shore and deeper in the water, leaving you knee-deep, standing on the wet sand underfoot. Once Jeno has floated for a few seconds, he positions himself upright, everything except his neck and face submerged in water as he swims towards you, walking the last few steps to you.

“Now you try.” You look a little nervous but follow what Jeno says. You kick your feet up and try to treat the water like it’s the sand you rest your towel against; Jeno’s hand is on the small of your back as he holds you up. You’re not used to the feeling of water in your ears, and you’re struggling to stay afloat as you accidentally breathe in water. Hearing you cough, Jeno sets you upright, and you cough up the salty water.

“I don’t like,” you say between coughs. “The water in my ears. It keeps going in.”

“Trust me when I say that when you don’t want water to go in your ears and nose, it doesn’t. When you are thinking about water going into your ears and nose, it does. Now, let’s try again.”

“No,” you whine. “I don’t like swimming.”

“Please?” Jeno asks. “For me? After all, you did drag me out here so early.”

“Fine.” You relent.

“Like I said,” Jeno chides, “Kick up your feet and lie on the water like it’s sand. Don’t struggle too much right now. Unless you don’t think about the water around your ears and nose, it won’t go in.”

You repeat what you did earlier, kicking up your feet and lying on the water like it’s sand. This time you don’t move a muscle. You let the gentle low-tide waves of the water kiss your skin and wash over you again before it’s exposed to the refreshingly cool ocean breeze again. Jeno’s hand is against the small of your back as he leads you to deeper waters.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Floating is all the same. If you can float in knee-deep water, you can float in deeper water.” Jeno looks into your eyes. “Don’t worry, I still won’t let go.”

You don’t struggle against the water, and when you’re in the deeper water, Jeno helps bring you upright on the water. This time, your feet are unable to touch the ocean floor, and before the panic can settle in your eyes, Jeno is holding your waist.

“Upright floating works the same way. Don’t struggle. Hold your head up high.” You follow as Jeno says and observes how he does it. Jeno slowly takes his hands away from your waist and holds your arm instead. Slowly, he lets go, and here you are in front of him, swimming; you’re pretty amazed too.

“Oh my God, I’m doing it!” You say excitedly. Jeno shares your excitement.

“I know. To think you wanted to give up,” Jeno shakes his head.

Your bodies are close, so close that you can feel Jeno’s breath on your nose. Jeno looks almost angelic with the way the salty water glistens against his face as if his skin is made of diamonds. His jet-black hair is stuck to his forehead, and your hair is in thick, salty strands, but the moment still feels perfect; the shouting of children in the distance doesn’t bother either of you.

You almost want to ki–

Suddenly, you’re taken out of your thoughts when a splash of cold water hits your face. Jeno has already swum a few feet away, the culprit of the cold splash on your face.

“Tag! You’re it!” He says in between giggles.

“Jeno!” You exclaim, trying your best to swim and splash him.

He’s the most handsome, adorable dork you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

Every summer, city council organized a summer concert series held at the local park. They mostly featured student bands, cover bands, and lots of vendors. But most importantly: they were free.

The one happening tonight was the last one of this year’s series, and there would be fireworks. You hadn’t been able to attend the last few summer concerts because of your growing responsibilities at the pet shelter; you were becoming pet manager, a position where you would inventory what animals were available to adopt, and the numbers were changing every day. Also, Doyoung had gone on vacation along with many of the volunteers, so you, Taeyong, and Sungchan were left to cover for them.

Tonight though, you were given the day off, so you decided to see if Jeno was free to go to the concert with you.

You tell your mother your intentions, and when you’re done talking, she gives you a sly look.

“You’ve been hanging out with Jeno a lot recently. Is there something I should know about?” She asked. She doesn’t ask this in a condescending, strict-parent tone, but of one as a friend. For the most part, your mother was always the woman you came clean to and got advice from; there were truely only minal secrets you kept from her.

“Yeah Y/N, is there something we should know about?” Renjun asks.

Renjun. For a while, you had completely forgotten about him. He had started getting suspicious recently that you were harboring feelings for his long-time best friend. After the beach trip, he started getting suspicious, but he had been too busy to do anything about it, only sulking in the corner thinking about it.

You had to admit that you had a little crush on Jeno, in that every time you thought about him, your heart started racing in an exhilarating way. Maybe when Renjun was around, you weren’t as slick as you thought you were. “No,” you say, a little quieter than you meant for it to be. You clear your throat, making your voice louder. “Nothing’s going on. Jeno’s always available to hang out, which is why I’m hanging out with him.”

Your mother doesn’t say anything, knowing Renjun is in the room. Most likely, Renjun was worried that if you and Jeno got into a relationship, it would mess up the long-time friendship they had, and if you broke up, it would be even worse. You understood his sentiment, but it’s not like Jeno likes you back…

Right?

The way he looked at you, the way that when you talked, he was fully attentive, his soft, expressive eyes reacting, listening to every word you say.

That’s just because you guys have become good friends, right?

(A part of you wishes that it isn’t).

You’re wearing your standard summer uniform of daisy dukes and a T-shirt when you walk up to Jeno’s house and the door opens before you knock. Jeno is standing at the entrance of his house, already dressed in shorts and a sleeveless shirt, showing off his strong arms.

“Jeno,” you say. “Do you want to go to the summer concert together?” You ask.

“Actually,” Jeno says shyly. “I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

“Great.” Jeno invites you in and asks if you want anything. You said you would just have some water. He pours you a glass before heading to his room to grab a towel and some bug spray. Stepping outside, you both spray yourselves, and when he goes back inside to put the bug spray away, he tells his parents that he’s going to be out and will be back before ten.

The park is a short drive from your neighborhood, and it is just as scenic as you remembered it to be. It’s about sixty-something acres filled with walking trails that loop around your city, which city council has tried hard to have more “green” city planning, rather than letting this place become a concrete jungle.

In this park, there is lots of green space for people to lay their towels across the grass and enjoy the music. Most of the people here are young parents with budding families, in which a family-friendly free concert with a packed picnic and fireworks is the perfect summer activity. There are also older people like you and Jeno, showing up to the concert today because they were bored. The beginning of August signaled to high schoolers the start of school, and to college people that they would be moving back to their dorms soon. Either way, the park is packed. Tonight isn’t as hot and stuffy as most nights, which also accounts for why there are so many people here tonight.

“What’s the theme for this concert?” You ask Jeno when you hop out of his car.

“‘70’s American rock,” he says.

“Fun,” you say. You weren’t an avid rocker, but you turn on the oldies radio station, you didn’t mind listening to a few rock songs. “It’s better than working at the pet shelter every single night.” Jeno laughs. You loved your job more than anything, but you wanted a semblance of work-life balance.

“Now I’m glad I didn’t take up Doyoung’s offer immediately,” Jeno says.

“It isn’t usually this bad,” you say. “It’s just that Taeyong and many volunteers are on vacation, and I’m being given more responsibilities.”

“Maybe I could come in and volunteer just to help you out,” Jeno says wistfully. “I’ll have to find time in my schedule,” he jokes.

You raise a brow at the boy. “In your schedule of doing nothing?” You snort.

“It’s not nothing,” Jeno counters. “I’m just relaxing before finding a job. Jobs are going to be there after I take a little break from college,” he says. Renjun wouldn’t ever be caught saying something like this. For him, it’s always one thing onto the next. Renjun is a restless man, and taking a break without a job would drive him crazy.

While Renjun is ridiculously Type A, Jeno is the opposite. He’s used to opportunities coming to him, believing that everything has a way of working out in the end. It’s crazy how the two have managed to be friends with such vastly different outlooks on life.

You drop the topic, opting to lay out the towel that Jeno brought. There’s enough space for both of you to fit… but tightly. Even though you’re wearing bug spray, the sharp, freshly cut grass makes your skin feel itchy.

“I guess we’re gonna have to sit like this,” you say a little awkwardly. Jeno turns to face you, his face only inches from yours; your arms brush Jeno’s biceps, and you feel your throat become dry.

“Yeah,” he says softly. No witty reply.

The silence between you is broken by the cheers of the audience. The performers are here.

“What’s up Neo City?” The head performer asks the audience. He’s a man in his mid to late twenties, wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. Cheers are the response, filling the air.

“We’re Neo Culture Tech, and today we’re going to be performing some covers to end Neo City’s 1997 Summer Concert Series! We hope you enjoy the performance!” The man stops talking, and the park erupts with cheers.

The first note is played on the piano, followed by the addition of drums and electric guitar. The songs go on one by one, and Neo Culture Tech plays popular songs by the Eagles, ACDC, Fleetwood Mac, and Def Leopard. Parents are dancing with smaller children, singing along to the songs they listened to in grade school, while younger people sit on their towel and jam out to the songs less physically.

You and Jeno are bobbing your heads together to the music, stealing glances at one another. Jeno was able to sing along a little to ‘Shoot to Thrill’ and ‘Gold Dust Woman,’ while you were able to sing along to ‘Witchy Woman’ and ‘Hotel California’ after memorizing the lyrics so long ago. As the guy who was playing the guitar played the guitar solos for ‘Hotel California,’ people cheered.

“Before we start the fireworks show, I’d like to end off with a banger. Everyone stand up and find a partner to dance with!” the lead singer said. With that, the band started the chords for ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’ by Def Leopard.

Jeno looks at you, a wry smile on his face. “Would you care to dance with me, partner?” He asks, holding out his elbow. You loop your arm in his.

“Of course.”

By this time, more of the younger people were standing up, dancing with their friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, or wives. You and Jeno were dancing, not caring how you looked, your hands clasping and unclasping as Jeno twirled you around to the rock song. You both sing along to the song, knowing the famous song.

When the song ends, you’re out of breath, your chest against Jeno’s, but Jeno doesn’t look very tired; there’s only a small drop of sweat pooling at his forehead, and he’s able to control his breathing. While the crowd screams, cheering for the band that just performed, you and Jeno are in your own world.

You feel like you know what Jeno’s thinking.

Slowly, you start leaning in, and Jeno follows your example. Before long, your lips land on his. You only want it to be a peck, but your body refuses to listen to your brain, so here you were, for what feels like centuries kissing Jeno. You weren’t going to struggle against your feelings anymore, you were going to float like you were at the beach.

Kissing your brother’s best friend.

Kissing the guy that all the girls in high school drooled over, the guy that got so many sports scholarship offers, the guy that many thought was infallible.

But he’s just Jeno, the adorable dork who’s stuck with your brother for almost their whole lives through thick and thin.

The adorable dork that you’ve helplessly fallen in love with.

Reluctantly, you both pull away, your breaths hitting each others’ noses. You’re almost to scared to look Jeno in the eye.

You just changed everything.

While you’re too busy not looking at Jeno, he takes your chin with his thumb and forefinger and tilts your gaze upward, to look at him.

When you look into his beautiful brown eyes, you realize that you didn’t change everything with one kiss. The feelings were always there. While you were slowly falling for Jeno, Jeno started slowly falling for you.

“I-I think I’m in love with you,” Jeno says, his voice unsure, lacking that cocky athlete tone that’s synonymous with Lee Jeno. While one hand remained holding your chin up to face him, the other hand was on your waist.

You didn’t think you ever wanted him to stop touching you.

“No,” he corrects himself, clearing his thoat. Seconds felt like hours, and your heart is racing like crazy.

“I know I’m in love with you.”

You think the loud beating sound is just your heart, but when you look up, the black sky is filled with color, expressive fireworks shining before dissipating. Red, orange, blue, and purple fill the sky before gray smoke settles and floats away. The park is oddly quiet while at least two hundred people enjoy the fireworks and are held by their boyfriends or girlfriends. You look up with Jeno in the same position you were, his arm still on your faces close. Your jaw is close to touching his collar bone, your nose almost touching his neck.

“I love you too.”

It’s probably one in the morning right now.

Ever since you and Jeno confessed your feelings, all you were doing was hiding your feelings around your family. You didn’t want Renjun finding out about your relationship just yet, and Jeno had the same idea. You and Jeno wouldn’t advertise to your families that you were hanging out, and most of the time, you met up at the pet shelter, where Doyoung was the only one who knew about the true nature of your relationship (after the unfortunate man walked in on you two making out in the janitor’s closet). You and Jeno forced him to promise that he wouldn’t tell anyone or even give any hints if he ran into your families; in small towns like yours, word travels fast.

Other than seeing Jeno at the animal shelter, you would sneak Jeno into your bedroom at night. A little part of you thrived from the danger you felt, doing something secret and slightly forebidden (nothing this exhilarating ever happened to you in high school or in college). You live in a one-story bungalow (like all the houses in your neighborhood), and your parents’ room is on the other side of your room, with the kitchen separating your rooms.

However, only a wall was separating you from Renjun’s room. You think you’re safe right now since through the paper-thin walls, you can hear Renjun soundly snoring to himself. The iceing on the cake was that Renjun is a light sleeper.

You hear a knock on your window, and you look to see that it’s Jeno. You’re in your pajamas, just a shirt with some pajama shorts, and you get off your bed, systematically opening the latch to your window. Pushing the window, it opens now, and Jeno opens it a little wider, enough for you to let him in.

He’s dressed in a T-shirt, sweatpants, and red, drugstore flipflops. He rubs his arm a little bit, a small scowl on his face.

“You should really trim that rose bush,” Jeno says softly, his gaze following to the rosebush that is near your window. Outside your window, you had a good view of the garden, and your mother took great pain to maintain that garden; your father often joked that it was her third child. For Jeno to get access to your window, he would have to wade through all the plants and flowers, careful not to step on anything because your mom would notice the next day. “I think it roughed me up pretty good.”

“Let me see,” you whisper, pulling his arm. In the minimal light that came from the almost full moon outside, you’re able to see clearly. It’s just a little scratch, that was slowly turning into a red line. No blood.

“You’ll live,” you say rolling you eyes. Sometimes Lee Jeno was the most dramatic guy that you’ve ever met.

Jeno pouts. “I think I would feel better if you kissed it,” he suggests.

You heave a sigh. “I swear to God,” you mutter. You lean foreward, pressing your lips against his arm. “That better?” You ask, crossing your arms and leaning your weight to one leg.

“How about one here?” He asks, pointing to his lips.

You laugh a little to yourself. “Greedy little–”

Jeno interrupts you. “Don’t act like you don’t want to.”

Standing on your toes, you lean in, your nose touching Jeno’s for a brief moment before your lips collide. Jeno’s hands gravitate towards your waist as he tries to push you against the nearest wall. He pushes you to the wall with the window he climbed into your room with. There’s only a narrow gap of space between the edge of the window and the bookshelf that houses all of your albums. He pushes you there, his knee finding its place between you legs. He grunts a little as his lips trail from your mouth to your chin to your neck. He slides you against the wall, your elbow hitting the edge of your bookshelf, and something goes flying off of the top of your bookshelf.

Immediately, you and Jeno jump apart at the noise when the object hits the floor. You’re thankful that the carpet muffles the sound, but it’s still audible since it hit the edge of the wooden door. You bend down to examine the fallen object, realizing that it’s just a snowglobe. You pick it up, putting it on your desk instead. No one stirs. Renjun is still in his room snoring.

“We’re supposed to be quiet!” You whisper loudly, putting your index finger to your lips.

“I’m sorry!” Jeno apologises.

“God, you lumber around my room like you haven’t been here before,” you joke. “How about let’s go into the bed where there’s less chance of making a noise.”

Jeno quickly agrees, and you both go into your bed, under the covers. Jeno’s arms find their place around you once more, and you put your head on Jeno’s chest, feeling his heartbeat. Jeno kisses the top of your head. After a few moments of lying like this in silence, your lips find Jeno’s again. You’re on top of him, him straddling your hips, but quickly, it turns into him on top of you. You both kiss each other with a new kind of fervor, but Jeno pulls away. “How long are we going to be doing this?” He asks. “I don’t know about you, but this whole sneaking around thing is getting kind of old. I just want to call you my girlfriend in front of people.”

You kiss him. “Just until I get the chance to tell Renjun.” You say. “I have a speech prepared.” You clear you throat, shifting your position in bed so you can face your boyfriend. In the dim light in which you can barely see Jeno, you can imagine his beautiful features, barely believing that you are his girlfriend. “I love Jeno, Jeno loves me, we want to be together, and you can’t do anything about it.” Jeno waits for more.

“That’s it?” He asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “What else am I supposed to say?”

Jeno smiles. He finds directness to be one of your most endearing qualities. You aren’t scared to say what’s on your mind, even if it’s controversial. He puts a hand on your cheek and brings you closer to him, kissing you again. His lips smack against your’s and you’re pretty sure you can hear audible popping sounds every time you both mutually pull away for air, only meaning to come back.

When he pulls away, Jeno says. “Y/N, you should at least be a bit more considerate to his feelings. This is going to be a big change for him.” Jeno reasons.

You seemed to like the exact opposite of what Jeno sees in you. You liked the way he considered everyone, and although it sometimes makes it seems like he is a people-pleaser, people who are the most considerate to others’ feelings when it doesn’t align with their own are the people who are the peacemakers, the role models, the people who rule the world.

While you were the fire, Jeno was the water, who made you see reason. And your directness teaches Jeno to stand up for himself.

“I know, but if Renjun can’t accept it, then he needs to grow up.”

“I don’t think Renjun wants to grow up.”

After you hear the new voice, the lights turn on, and you and Jeno immediately jump apart to opposite sides of your twin bed (but it’s not possible without your bodies still touching). This only gives the onlooker a better view of the two parties involved. When you and Jeno finally decide to face the onlooker, you realize that it’s Renjun in his pajamas. He wasn’t wearing his contacts, but he doesn’t need them to recognize the two most important people in his life. His arms are crossed as he examines both you and Jeno, and together, you both struggle for an explanation.

“Surprise?” You and Jeno chorus together.

PRESENT DAY

Eventually, Renjun got over it. Or else, he wouldn’t have been able to give such a wonderful best man speech.

That’s right. After years of dating which helped you realize that no one was more perfect for you than Jeno, you and Jeno decided to get married in 2003 after you both were settled in your careers. Jeno, after a few months of relaxation, got a job at a marketing firm, and he worked his way up to become a lead account manager. You, after earning your degree in accounting, worked at a firm for a few years before quitting and becoming the book keeper at Taeyong’s pet shelter, which now you owned. Taeyong moved to his mother’s paid-off house in Seoul to take care of his aging mother, so he stepped down and gave you ownership of his beloved pet shelter. He now worked at his mother’s supermarket and visited you often.

Sometimes, it amazed you how far society has gone since your childhood. You would never have dreamed of touch-screen cell phones with the power of a full-sized computer or your fridge making grocery lists for you. It was convenient and fascinating, but at other times, this new world scared you; only recently has it been confirmed that your phone is listening to you and people are selling your online data.

“Kids, dinner!” You shouted up the stairs. Just after you were married, you became pregnant with your daughter, and five years later, your son came along.

“Coming,” your daughter Yoona said.

“Yeah!” Your son Hyuckjae yelled from his room. That wasn’t really an answer, leaving you signing by the kitchen.

Jeno is already sitting at the table, eating the meal that you prepared. It wasn’t that complicated, just some fried rice with some vegetables and meat, as well as potato soup since you were tired after your long day at work. You sat at the table next to your husband, and you know you don’t have to call for your children again when you hear thundering down the stairs. Yoona’s phone is glued to her hands, while Hyunjae finds his position next to Jeno. The food is on the table, but only three of you are eating; Yoona’s food remains untouched as she sits down and keeps her attention only on her phone, not acknowledging the presence of her family.

“Yoona!” You say, snapping in front of her face. Only when you put your hand between her phone did she actually look at you.

“What do you want mom?” She says, exasperated.

“Aren’t you going to eat your food?”

“Yeah,” she replies, “In a little bit,” Almost immediately, she only looks back at your phone.

“Yoona, put the phone away.”

“That’s right honey,” a new voice interjects, and it’s Jeno. “Put your phone away. We want to have a conversation.” Jeno adds.

“About what?” Yoona asks. She finally puts her phone down and looks at you both. “Are you guys having a midlife crisis?”

“Midlife –” Jeno stops.

“We’re not even that old yet!” You exclaim.

“Yeah Yoona,” Hyuckjae adds.

“Shut up Hyuckjae,” Yoona says, her voice snarky. “Buttering up to Mom and Dad isn’t going to get you a phone.”

“Says who?” Hyuckjae argues back. “Mom and Dad didn’t say anything.”

“Hyuckjae, you’re not getting a phone,” you say stubbornly.

“Oh come on, Mom!” Hyunjae whines. “I’m the only eighth grader without a phone!” Hyuckjae counters.

“Me and your father didn’t have a phone at your age. You’ll live.”

“That’s because you guys lived in the stone ages.”

Jeno scoffs. “The ‘90’s weren’t even that long ago.”

Yoona cocks her head. “The ‘90’s are in history books now.”

You and Jeno both look at each other, but Yoona continues. “The ‘90’s were like thirty years ago.”

You knew that time had passed, but it never really occurred to you the quantifiable number of years; someone born in 1990 is in their thirties now. You vividly remember 1990, being a thirteen year old. Jeno was fifteen. You wonder how he’s feeling.

“That doesn’t change why you should have a phone, Hyuckjae,” you say.

“What about schoolwork? I’ll be in high school in the fall.”

“You can use the family computer.” Hyuckjae groans; the desktop in the computer room right off the entrance of your’s and Jeno’s suburban home (originally the formal dining room) is a Windows 8.1, and somewhat slow.

“Hyuckjae, we’ll get you a phone your first month of freshman year, just like your mom and I agreed on.” Jeno says cooly. “That’s when Yoona got her first phone.”

Hyunjae grunts. “But that’s so long from now.”

Noticing how the conversation mainly was between you, Jeno, and Hyunjae, Yoona gestures to pick up her phone when you point at her.

“Don’t even think about picking up that phone right now, young lady,” you say pointedly, and Yoona’s hands immediately back away.

“Right that conversation we’re going to have,” Jeno says, redirecting the topic. “How was everyone’s day?”

“That’s the conversation you want to have?” Yoona says.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with it?” You ask, defending Jeno.

“Nothing…” Yoona trails away.

“I’ll start,” you say. “I had an overall good day. Taeyong gave me an extra 15% off groceries instead of 10%.” It was incredibly convenient that Taeyong’s mother’s supermarket was only eight miles from the pet shelter.

“Nice,” Jeno says, smiling in that same boyish eyesmile that you fell in love with all those years ago. “I had an average day. It would have been good, but the coffee machine in the cafeteria broke,” Jeno sighs.

You and Jeno both turn to look at Yoona. “I had a good day, I guess. I got a 100 on my calculus test.”

“Great job!” Jeno says. You reach over to rub Yoona’s shoulders.

“You see? I told you it would benefit to go to calculus tutoring,” you say.

“Hyuckjae? How was your day?” Jeno asks.

“Not good. You guys aren’t getting me a phone.”

“We just said we would!” You exclaim. “When you’re a freshman.”

Hyuckjae grunts at this and stands up, heading towards the sink to clear the remnants on his plate. You didn’t realize that Yoona and Hyukcjae had been eating particularly fast tonight, evident by their nearly empty dishes.

“I’m going to the computer room,” he says, not waiting for a response when he leaves. Shortly after, Yoona is done with her food. After rinsing her plate, she leaves it in the sink and snatches her phone off of the dining room table (as if you were going to take it and look at the texts on the notification bar).

“I’m going to my room,” she says. She waits for you to say a resigned ‘okay,’ and she heads up the stairs, sparing no time to look at her phone.

“What could be so important that she can barely stay a free moment without her phone?” You voice to your husband. You and Jeno are taking your time eating your meal at the table, now by yourselves.

“What isn’t so important at that age?” Jeno says before slurping the soup collected in his spoon. “When you’re a teenager, you see things with a different perspective than you would see if you were a mom, for example.”

You sigh at these words, the fresh perspective that your husband is giving you that you failed to see initially. Jeno is good at seeing all sides of the situation; that’s why Renjun always goes to him for advice.

“I guess,” you say, crossing your arms. “I can’t imagine being a kid right now.”

“I bet Yoona and Hyuckjae can’t imagine being a kid in the ‘90’s.”

You sigh. “Things really have changed, haven’t they?” When you and Jeno were younger, you weren’t trying to get the best gadgets to impress your friends, you didn’t have advanced TV’s and vacuum cleaners that were listening to you, you weren’t always on Instagram and Twitter, and the concept of a ‘social media influencer’ didn’t exist at all.

When you and Jeno were younger, you thought the future would resemble Back to the Future. Although there weren’t any hoverboards that actually hovered the ground in 2016, the actual future paralleled the movie in surprising ways with the fact that people were always so distracted with the screens in their hands.

“Don’t you ever just feel…” you start off. Jeno’s attention is on you while he eats.

“Don’t you ever feel that people are always in their own worlds?” You ask. “Always on their phones looking at the latest posts, listening to music, downloading photos? No one ever runs around the neighborhood and draws chalk or play with the neighborhood kids,” you sigh. It was like people preferred to type than to talk.

“Yeah. It wasn’t like that when we were kids,” Jeno says. You eat a couple of spoons of friend rice, the silence between you both evident.

“In a way,” Jeno says, “Things are still the same.”

“How?” You ask.

“Well, people still have the need to be social, whether it’s on social media or in person. And we are still trying to keep up with our friends,” he says. Without words, you know he’s talking about your son and how obsessed he was about getting a phone since his friends started to flash their iPhones and Samsungs.

“I still think life was simpler back in the ‘90’s,” you say stubbornly. “Even though we had to use TV Guide to find out what was on TV, it was still easier. I’m always looking over my shoulder these days,” you confess. “Every single second, so much data is being collected and sold, it makes me worried. On top of all that, social media isn’t good for young kids,” you say, redirecting the conversation back to Hyuckjae. You feel a little guilty seeing Hyuckjae so upset that he doesn’t have a phone, but it was the principle that mattered. You didn’t think phones were good for young kids, to be hooked up to the internet 24/7. Being fifteen and having a phone isn’t much better than being fourteen and having a phone, but you drew the line at high school. You couldn’t protect your son forever, no matter how much you desperately wanted to.

“There’s still something that remains simple, though,” Jeno says. When he gently squeezes your thigh, you think you have an idea.

“This,” he says. He leans over and kisses your lips, cupping your cheek. His lips are soft as they rub rhythmically against your lips. He pulls away, his voice soft. “I love you. We can be in 2092, teleporting to see our great-grandchildren, and I’ll be in love with you,” Jeno says.

You giggle. Nineteen years of marriage, and he still makes you feel like a young bride.

“We can be in 3092 with our brains connected to robots, and I’ll still be in love with you,” you counter, turning this into a competition.

“How about let’s think about right now,” Jeno says. He cups your cheeks in his hands and admires your eyes before he kisses you deeply, as if he isn’t going to kiss you ever again.

The world can change as much as it wants, as long as you have Lee Jeno by your side.

a/n: if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading :) since this is my first slowburn, let me know what you thought in the comments or by sending me an ask! thanks again!

#nct #jeno #lee jeno #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct dream #jeno fluff #jeno scenarios #jeno imagines #nct imagines #nct reactions #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #jeno smut

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sadlynotthevoid · 1 month

Text

Once I had this dream about a modern lcf AU where Lily was like 13~14yo and somehow got involved into an otome-novel-ish type of drama. What I mean is: some girl at school was going around acting like she was such a sweetheart and making others believe Lily was a mean rich girl who bullies her.

She was very sad because a lot of people, including some friends, actually fell for it and treated her as if she was a villain. More and more people avoided her and frowned when they saw her. People who she used to play and chat now talked bad about her. And only a few close friends seemed to believe in her and treat her kindly.

She's brave and bold, but she feels really lonely right now.

And she didn't know how to tell her family. She hasn't heard that any of them had had such a problem before. What if they don't understand? (What if they don't believe her?)

One day, Cale (the original one) entered into her room while she was crying after a bad day. His brain's alarms started to sound. Whom the fuck hurt his little sister? She's a good kid who only wants to train with swords and eat sweets.

So he sat next to her and comforted her, softly humming a song. It felt so nostalgic (though she's not sure why) that Lily ended up spilling out everything. He promised things were going to get better. Then proceeded to distraught her with a gift and a promise to sparr with her.

It was Friday at that moment. On Monday, Lily went back to school just to find out everyone acting strange. Not bad, just strange.

When she asked, her classmates explained that the troublesome girl's mother had carried her from house in house to confess the truth during the weekend. She and her mother were at the headmaster's office at the moment.

Only some people apologized, but no one kept treating her like a bad omen.

Lily didn't know how, but she was sure that Cale was somehow behind this.

Other points about the dream:

-Lily and Cale got close after this. He takes her to and from school quite often. They spar together when Cale is at home or Lily tries new things with him.

-Probably because of the reason above, I remember a scene of them ice skating at an ice rink. They seemed to like it, so hc that it becomes an usual activity for them.

-They take Bassen out for a break when he seems too meddle into his studies. Then the three of them end up sitting at an ice cream shop or a coffee shop, dumming around and ocassionally getting tutoring from Cale.

-I think Cale was on his last year of college here, but he also had a business. I think it was a fashion business but I'm not sure. I don't know why he was taking college classes when he already had a sucessful business, he's weird like that. Probably because he was bored.

-Rok Soo was his roommate. I mean it like platonic roommates, not the vine. Cale somehow convinced him to work at his company after college.

-Ohn and Lily became friends after this.

-The rest of the Henituse family didn't find out about the incident until months later. They freak out a bit before Lily tell them that Cale already solved it. And Bassen is like "yeah, that tracks", which turns into an explanation about his own past bullying situation. Which leads to them connecting the dots. They freak out.

-Cale is walking between classes when he gets a call from Deruth. Half of the campus could heard the "CaLE hENiTuSE, did you sabotage yourself to help Bassen?!". And the "WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT WHAT'S THE PROBLEM?! YOU COULD HAD BEEN HURT!". A few seconds later, it was the whole campus that heard the "AN ACT? IT WAS ALL AN ACT?!".

-Thanks to the people who were near enough to listen to Cale's replies, now the whole campus labeled him of eccentric genius. The general consensus is that he's a good person, too.

-The acting class teacher kept running after Cale, trying to get him into his class after he heard Deruth's last scream. He tries harder after he overhears Cale saying "what? Like it was difficult. You guys are just easy to fool" when his childhood friends asked. Amiru is between the best students, she's definitely not easy to fool.

#lcf #og cale henituse #original cale henituse #og!cale henituse #lily henituse #bassen henituse #deruth henituse #the image of the acting teacher pestering og!cale to become an actor live rent free in my head #fic ideas #lily henituse is precious and must be cherished

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hunny-bean · 10 months

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Got a Frank Castle request. How about a little vacation with him. A cabin by the lake and a campfire with marshmallows .

Out Of Mind

Pairing: Frank Castle/F!Reader

Summary: You finally managed to persuade Frank to take a break with you. He happened to know the perfect place.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Um.... yeah, none. Teensy bit of swearing. Mentions of violence?? Maybe?? Pretty much straight fluff. This was so calming to write.

A/N: I really enjoyed making this one! There wasn't as much stress about it being enjoyable because it's all stuff I'm used to. Somehow it turned into a sort of angstless hurt/comfort. Don't ask how, I've got no idea. Let me know what you think! XOXO.

Read on AO3

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

"Are you sure this is the right spot?" you asked, looking out your window at the sea of orange leaves around you.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Frank promised. "But we'll have to walk a little while to get to the lake."

He hopped out of the driver's side and walked around to the back of the truck to gather your things. You sighed, standing up and stretching to prepare yourself for the last part of your journey.

"How much is a little while?" you wondered, knowing Frank's tendency to be vague about not-so-ideal situations.

"'Bout two miles. It's not that bad," he answered nonchalantly, throwing a leg over the side of the truck bed. Your eyes shot open wide, and you let out a surprised laugh. You were pretty good about walking long distances from growing up in the city, but you weren't looking forward to dragging your bags for half an hour through a damp, rocky forest.

"Why are we parking two miles away from the lake?"

"So if someone comes looking for us," Frank replied, lowering your favorite duffel bag into your arms, "we can hide without them knowing immediately that we're there."

"No one's gonna come looking for us," you assured him. "Everyone thinks you're dead, remember?"

"I'm just trying to keep us safe, sweetheart. You never know what could happen."

The two of you were standing on the side of an old dirt road, your truck tucked behind a cluster of large trees to keep it hidden from view. Looking around, you saw there wasn't a path, clearing, or bike trail in sight. Evidently, Frank was determined to do everything the hard way.

You couldn't really complain, though. You were on your first vacation with the love of your life, and you were planning to enjoy every single moment of it. You expected Frank to hand you another bag, but he just leaned in to kiss your forehead before arranging the other three on his body and starting off into the forest. You followed close behind, allowing him to clear the way of vines and thorns before stepping carefully after him.

After eighteen months spent staring at and studying the gorgeous figure and mannerisms of the man in front of you, you had learned a few things about him. Because of this, you could tell that Frank was a bit upset about something. He seemed tense, and he was ripping at the twigs and spiderwebs more aggressively than was necessary, almost like he was trying to work out some unwanted feelings. It took you a moment to decide how to approach the subject. He wasn't exactly known for being super open about his emotions.

"Is there something bothering you?" you asked offhandedly.

Frank stopped in his tracks and turned around to face you, his head cocked to the side and his forehead scrunched in confusion. He seemed amused by your attempt at casualness.

"Why do you ask?" he responded, ripping up a dead branch that had been in your way.

"I don't know. I just thought you looked a little nervous."

He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again as he decided against it. He stood there thinking for a while, but right when you thought he might give you an answer, he turned away from you and kept on walking without saying anything. The two of you continued on like that for what seemed like hours, just making your way to the lake in silence. You thought that was the end of that conversation, but after shredding a few more twigs, he finally spoke.

"I guess I just don't have the greatest track record with things like this," he admitted.

"Like what? Vacations?" you asked hesitantly, afraid he might go silent again. Thankfully, he seemed ready to talk whatever was upsetting him.

"Yeah? I guess so," he began. "I think I'm just kinda on edge because, uh, whenever I let my guard down or try to be happy. . . things tend to go wrong." He sounded like he was figuring it out for himself as he spoke, as if he was telling both of you instead of just you.

Hearing this, you sped up to stand beside him and grabbed onto his arm. He let you, but he didn't look over at you like he usually did. You knew from past experiences that Frank wasn't the biggest fan of feeling vulnerable.

"Nothing's gonna go wrong this time. I promise," you said, leaning in close to him.

"I appreciate that, baby, but you can't possibly know what's gonna happen," he mumbled.

You couldn't exactly argue with that. There were tons of things that could go wrong when you were in the middle of nowhere. You could only be as careful as possible and put all your energy into making sure Frank enjoyed this trip as much as you were planning to. Suddenly, you were struck with an idea.

"Why don't you list all the things you think could happen while we're out here, and I'll tell you all the reasons why they won't," you suggested, smiling brightly at him.

He took a moment to consider your proposition, but you could tell he was on board. You were hoping you could turn this into a game of sorts that you could play whenever one of you was worried about something.

"Alright," he decided. "One of us could. . . trip over a rock." It was a rather tame first suggestion, so you brushed it off pretty easily. You knew he wasn't actually worried about rocks. He was just testing the waters.

"We've got, like, four first-aid kits and we know how to catch ourselves. I don't think that'll be an issue," you teased. You saw his lips quirk up on one side. Your master plan was working.

"Okay. Someone could find us and try to kill us." That was definitely more what he was worried about. It was certainly a valid fear, but you were still determined to help him let go of it until you returned to your normal lives.

"It's very unlikely that someone's actively trying to find either of us right now," you reasoned. "We've been really good at laying low; you especially. Even if someone accidentally stumbled upon us, they probably wouldn't try to kill us because they wouldn't know who you were. Even if they figured it out and attacked you, there's a ninety-five percent chance that you'd win. Need I go on?"

It would take more than that to completely comfort him, but it was easy to see you were making progress.

"I think you're okay," he said, shifting his arm so yours were linked together. You looked up to see him thinking intently about something that he very obviously found entertaining.

"What is it?" you pried, smiling back on instinct. You couldn't help it. Everything about Frank's happiness was contagious to you. He could be laughing at the goddamn apocalypse and you'd still be laughing with him.

"You really think I'd lose to five percent of the population?"

You scoffed, bumping into him playfully. "I don't know, I was just throwing out a random number. It's probably more like ninety-nine," you amended. "Besides, if you're that confident in your abilities, then why are you worried about losing?"

"If focusing on the one percent is what keeps you safe, then that's what I'm gonna do," he asserted.

"Well you're welcome to, just not this week. You chose this place specifically because it was safe. You know you're allowed to feel safe, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know. I guess that's just not as easy as it sounds," Frank joked pessimistically.

"Well, we're gonna keep working on it. Anything else you think could go wrong?"

"We could drop all our bags in the lake."

The two of you kept playing for a long while, walking arm-in-arm through the fallen leaves, enjoying the crisp early-autumn air. As time went on and you ran out of ideas, the suggestions and rebuttals grew increasingly more outlandish until you were both cracking up, all your previous concerns forgotten about. Just when your shoulder was beginning to ache from the weight slung over it, you heard the soft sound of moving water in the distance. As you got closer to the sound, the air began to smell like lake water, which would have been unpleasant had it not carried so much nostalgia with it.

"It should be right over here," Frank announced as soon as the shimmering waves came into view. Sure enough, just barely visible in the distance, hidden in the shadows cast by the setting sun, was the silhouette of a small, cozy log cabin.

"This place is incredible," you marveled, excitedly hopping up the front steps. You stepped to the side, looking around the front porch as you waited for Frank to dig the key out of his pocket and unlock the door.

"My dad and some friends of his built this place in their early thirties. This was their special spot growing up and they wanted to preserve it in some way," he recounted, twisting the key as hard as he could until he managed to open it with a hard shove and a loud creak.

The inside was just as quaint and inviting as the outside, despite the dust and cobwebs that had formed after years of disuse. It was obvious what you'd be spending your first evening doing. Thankfully, you'd anticipated this, and had packed a whole gallon-sized bag full of old rags and cleaning spray. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a convenient broom propped up against the wall. That certainly wasn't the only thing you noticed though.

On the wall opposite you, directly across from the front door, there was a stone fireplace that fit in nicely with the wooden interior. In front of the fireplace, there was a soft red and orange rug with dusty pillows strewn across it that were clearly meant to be sat on. On one side of the room, there was a tall oak table with a simplistic design and four matching chairs around it. There were a few windows in the cabin, positioned in a way that told you they would light up the whole room in the early morning. For the night, there were candles literally everywhere, some in elegant holders, others tossed haphazardly on their sides. On the other side of the room, there was a door leading to a teeny little bedroom with nothing but a queen sized bed, a small nightstand, and a dark wooden dresser on the wall. With a little love, you knew it would be the perfect place for you two to relax away from all the noise and danger of the city.

"So. . . what do you think?" Frank asked, taking in your awestruck expression.

"I absolutely love it," you told him, dropping your bag and turning around to pull him into a giant hug. "And I love you. So much," you added, kissing him sweetly before pulling away to start unpacking.

Frank whistled, taking in the state of the place after sitting empty for so long. "I guess we'd better get to work, huh?" he sighed.

"The sooner we start, the sooner we'll be finished."

And so you worked until the sun finished its descent, dusting furniture, fluffing pillows, scrubbing windows, sweeping floors, taking snack breaks, and changing sheets until you were finally finished. Now, it was definitely perfect.

"It looks just like it used to when I was a kid," Frank reminisced, inspecting the various trinkets scattered across the mantel.

"Sounds like we did a good job then," you grinned.

"I'd say so too," he said, spinning you around and pulling you close to him. "What would you like to do now?" he asked.

"Hmm..." You thought for a moment, considering all your options. Suddenly, you remembered something you had seen on your way up to the door. "Do you wanna start a fire?" you suggested, beaming.

"That sounds nice, baby."

"Yay! You go ahead and get it going. I'll grab the blankets and marshmallows," you directed.

"You packed marshmallows?" Frank teased lightly.

"Well, it wouldn't be a camping trip without them!"

When you made it outside, you found Frank crouched over the cleared out firepit, lighting a stick on fire and using it to create several little flames throughout the pile. The pit was dug into the ground with a circle of large rocks surrounding it for people to sit on. Once you got the fire going, you and Frank shared the largest stone, wrapped up together in a cozy blanket and carefully toasting your marshmallows to perfection.

Well, not really to perfection. You both had yours catch on fire several times before you figured out the right technique. You never quite got yours exactly how you wanted it, but Frank was toasting masterpieces before too long. It didn't bother you though, because he always gave you his best ones.

The warmth of the fire and the body next to you had you feeling sleepy after a while, and you began nodding off with your head on Frank's shoulder. The comforting smell of the shifting leaves and the curling smoke created an atmosphere that you never wanted to escape. You were truly free of all the stress of your everyday-life. Every responsibility, every problem, every tough decision; they were all officially out of sight, out of mind.

"I think this is gonna be the best week of my life," you mumbled, melting into his strong embrace.

"Me too, baby. Me too," he whispered.

After a long moment, the silence became heavier and the dying fire got somehow louder. You knew there was something else he wanted to say, and you waited for it patiently.

"I thought of another worst-case-scenario," he said at last, rubbing your arm gently.

"What's that?"

"You could leave me." You turned your head to kiss his shoulder lovingly.

"Never."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

A/N: Not my best work but I kinda like it! Anyway, thanks for reading!<3

#jon bernthal #frank castle #frank castle smut #frank castle x reader #jon bernthal smut #jon bernthal x reader #frank castle fanfiction #punisher

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slushiepizza · 13 days

Text

Marie and Mother Mary

Relationship : Marie & Milo Greer

Tags : Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Partum Depression, Gender Roles, Catholicism, Motherhood, Italian American Marie Greer

Word Count : 1,510

ao3

Notes and Warnings:

this fic kind of surprised me because I'm not super into the Shaw Pack. But I do find Marie Greer's presence and bits and pieces we know of her character fascinating. I wanted to explore Marie's mind and feelings about being a mother when she's dealing with a gambling husband; and for her to raise someone like Milo Greer- she must've done a great job as a parent.

I took inspiration from my own experiences growing up with Catholicism and specifically in relation to the biblical Mary as a religious figure; and how mothers often find comfort in the thought of a figure who related in their struggles of motherhood and womanhood. It also has a theme of gender roles/ alluding to rigid gender identities because of the circumstances that Marie grew up in.

This fic isn't really... religious per se, and it takes more of a neutral standing while still criticizing how religion could be used to provoke feelings of personal guilt and trauma in someone who grew up in it, while also giving comfort to anyone that needed the universe to say that everything will be okay. If any of the themes may cause distress in you, I do implore you not read this fic, as consuming writing is a vulnerable activity.

The year was 1993. Marie Greer walked into the empty church lot with her baby in her arms. It had been decades since she last stepped on its stone floors. The security guard stationed outside looked at her strangely, but let her in once she asserted that she was there to pray.

She passed the main building for a small garden in the back. There were rows of wooden benches but nobody to be found. Good. Marie didn’t want company at the moment. To call it a garden was an overstatement- it was tiny and cramped, overgrown with vines. In front of the benches, the centerpiece of all the foliage was a statue of the Virgin Mary. Mother Mary, she thought, the double entendre not escaping her.

As soon as she sat down right in front of the statue- Milo wailed inconsolably like he always did.

The baby’s loud cries echoed disturbing whatever peace that was left from the place. Marie sighed, tired and weary, of this. He was an especially sensitive child, smaller than other babies his age. Marie was used to catering to people who’d fuss over the littlest things, Colm had a particular affinity for order and cleanliness whenever he came back from blowing his month’s earnings in a night, after all. The addition of Milo to the family just added more on her plate- she had to catalog every single one of his many allergies, and make sure that the room was never dusty because he’d have a coughing fit otherwise. The replacement of their popcorned ceiling had not been cheap, either, not with Colm leaving barely anything left after his trips to Vegas.

She did this all for love. For him. For her husband. But oftentimes, she felt like there was nothing left of her to give. Dry. Hollow.

She shushed Milo and lightly rocked him in hopes that he’d calm down but to no avail. He thrashed and turned, his nails accidentally scratched her in the arm. Marie winced and tried to soothe him, lightly patting his back. It took thirty minutes of rocking and soothing Milo until the baby went back to sleep.

St. Mary’s weathered ivory-colored face looked down at her, her expression blank and unmoving. Her lips were sculpted into a serene smile. Her pupil-less eyes gazed back at Marie.

Just like any other Italian-American family at the time, church was a routine for Marie growing up. Her mother would dress them in their Sunday’s best and wrangled her and her seven unruly siblings into the building. “Quit fussin’ your pigtails, Marie. I did that real pretty for you,” she’d chide. They’d sit in the back of the church because tardiness ran in that family’s blood like a curse.

Past the twelfth and thirteenth pews, God felt distant.

Marie would follow everything diligently. She stood up when everyone else stood up as the priest lifted the circular white wafer, the body of Christ, above the altar. As a child, her height wouldn’t allow her to catch a single glimpse of it. She’d comfort her younger siblings whenever they’d make a ruckus. But the whole thing- it went one ear out of the other.

She could’ve sworn she tried her best to listen and followed whatever the adults did.

I have greatly sinned, escaped past her lips as she did the same thing she had now, rocking her baby sister in her arms. At the time, she hadn’t even lost her milk teeth.

She stopped going when she married Colm. He was the opposite of the man her mother wanted her to marry, and in retrospect, she felt that it was one of the many reasons she liked him. His mind was raucous, his eyes wild and unmoored. Like nothing was holding him back. Colm used to be an ambitious man- the thrill of being an Investigator for DUMP perfect for his unrested soul.

Marie loved that part of him, the fact that he’d question everything, unbelieving in anything unproven.

He said that he wanted to purge the world of assholes- the unjust, those who hurt others for their own sake. As he turned in empowered criminals in the pursuit of it, he became one himself.

Marie met St.Mary’s gaze- almost challenging her hollow stare. Something surged through her, from the ache in her back settling to her tight diaphragm.

After the birth of her boy, Mary couldn’t cook or clean. All she did was stay in bed. Her sister came by to help take care of the house while Colm stepped outside as usual. She said that it was normal, her body had been through hell, after all. But the heavy feeling, the heaviness that settled in her chest persisted for the next two months.

Marie hated feeling helpless- her house a mess, and her baby cried constantly. She was a woman of action, and stagnation shackled her, leaving her trapped. Her visit to the psychiatrist- and the fourth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual- had told her that it was depression with a postpartum onset. She told the doctor that she refused to accept that she was a ‘bozo who was sick in the head’ and that she will cure herself with a margarita and a sorely needed hair perm alongside a fresh coat of manicure.

And look where that got her. Crying in front of a statue in church.

She still stared at the other Mary, the statue’s size and height caused her to look like she was looking down on whoever prayed in the confined space, guiding them iin a time of need. With that, for once, Marie realized that she was angry.

She wasn’t stuck to her mattress, fatigued, and lacked energy because of sorrow- she was so angry, the weight of her job description as wife, mother, woman, wolf, dog, bitch- Marie weighed down on her like anchors. She was angry, at the fact that Colm was nowhere to be found throughout all this, angry at her mother- for making her a mother to her own siblings when she was barely a child, angry at the fact that she couldn’t even love her child properly because she no longer had any love left in the hollow of her heart.

The emotions had clawed the insides of her ribs and caused her to let out heavy breaths- she was a dog panting for air when there was none.

“When does it get easier,” she demanded to the Mother of all Mothers through gritted teeth. “Tell me, Mary,” she begged, desperate, as tears started to roll down her face. “Tell me!”

“When does being a mother ever get any easier?”

Her voice was a whisper, barely audible, as she started to sob and heave quietly.

A soft breeze blew past the branches of the trees that surrounded her. It moved the leaves and allowed them to move gently back and forth. The statue still looked down at her, hand slightly outstretched in a supposed kind, helpful gesture. Ants crawled from the crack in the marble, they moved past Mary’s dress down to the hem, circling around her exposed foot, past the head of the sneak that was crushed triumphantly under her toes.

Marie sank into her seat, tired. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, sniffling. Unbecoming of her, she thought. She’d rather die than let anyone see her like this. But there was a comfort between women, she supposed. Damage from rain stained Mary’s cheek like tears- not unlike the thick mascara that currently ran down her own. The air was comfortable, easy, and Marie felt light. It reminded her of the 80s. Of girls in the bathroom of the disco, talking someone out of calling their past lovers as they applied lipstick and passed cigarettes between one another.

“I guess,” she sniffed. “I guess you know better, right?” she stared into a picture that hung on a distant wall. In it, St. Mary cried as she held Jesus' dying body. “He didn’t give you a hell of a good time either,” her voice cracked pathetically.

Girl, tell me about it, Marie imagined the statue said. The Virgin Mary had the voice of her best friend in college. Is that not what being a mother is? The pain so bad, it feels like you’re splitting in two? Going through all seven hells for your baby’s sake?

“Why do we even put ourselves through this,” she chuckled sardonically. “If I wanted to go through pain, I’d rather just listen to Colm talk about whatever fish he caught on the weekend.”

Mary didn’t answer, and Marie understood. Milo opened his big eyes in her arms and reached up to her with tiny hands. He giggled, light and oblivious to the puffiness of Mary’s face and the swell of her eyes. She cooed at him and held up a finger. Milo wrapped his hand around it, gentle.

St. Mary’s serene smile was still plastered on her face, her hand outstretched in the air between them.

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #marie greer #milo greer #redacted milo #redacted marie

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emblazons · 1 year

Text

I said I was gonna so a whole long post about the monologue after my rewatch so: having watched the whole Vecna monologue v Mike monologue that happens in the Piggyback in full for the first time in actual months…god damn. Just.

There is no way to understand what’s happening with El (and her relationship with Mike) during the monologue without looking at Vecna's monologue that comes right before it. There just isn’t, and if you try you’re 100% going to miss critical context for why things happen the way they do both in mlvn’s relationship and on screen.

First off: after what Vecna says to her, El is fully in self-defeat (and self-loathing) mode. She’d just learned that every single attempt of hers to do "right" with the knowledge she had at the time had actually been useful to the person destroying her world—

—and despite trying so hard to overcome her sense of destructiveness about things like scaring Mike and hitting Angela by going to “learn who she is” at Nina, it turned out that even the moments she perceived as her “heroic” ones (like closing the gate and stopping the mindflayer monster in S3) were actually tools useful to Vecna…just like her Piggybacking in to save Max.

El is literally hearing that even her best attempts at being “good” were used for evil, which makes her an accomplice to Vecna even if she didn’t mean to be—

—which we're shown, as El remembers all the moments she thought she was "helping" only to be told each one of those was her having her powers used by Henry/Vecna.

If that wasn't enough, we literally watched as El paralleled herself directly to the person whose powers are now being used to destroy the world, even as we (the audience) know most of what is happening is just Vecna do what he does best by tapping into her deepest core fears.

Vecna adds insult to injury here by making it clear that he once "wanted her by his side" in the first place (aka the powers she's been trying to use for good cannot be divorced from bad things)—

—and from this second onward (in El's perception at least) there is no way for her powers to be used correctly even when she wants to be helpful—which is why she “gives up,” lets the vine loop around her neck in the first place, and stares unmoving and crying at Max.

Basically: What Vecna says steals even the little resolve she gained back at Nina…which is why she stops fighting entirely.

Now, all of this is an extremely fair reason to feel defeated and dejected about trying to fight (on top of traumatizing af for El)—

—the problem is (like everything else wrong in their relationship) Mike once again has no sense of El’s internal state because she doesn’t and has not historically shared it (or can’t in this case), and therefore can only answer what he externally perceives her state to be—which he guesses, based on their last argument, has to do with him not being able to say he loves her.

The disjointedness between what is really happening with El and what Mike wrongly perceives the issue to be is why we see El not only look repeatedly displeased by his confession—

—but why the only thing she can think of in relation to Mike positively is his initial rescue, when he takes her to a space where her powers are neutral / unknown (and not the force for evil even her best attempts at using them just became in her mind).

That dissonance is also why she doesn’t fight until he starts saying she need to get over herself and save someone else…which is why she looks at Max and decides to fight anyway.

In truth, Mike could have glossed over the entirety of the “I love you," "not I'm scared of you but I’m afraid of losing you” part and just said “I believe you can do anything, but right you need to fight” and gotten the same result, given that what needed to be addressed was her self-loathing, not Mike’s (lack of) romantic affections.

Basically: even if they weren’t on the precipice of a breakup, Mike’s love wasn’t going to make up for the fact that El has basically just learned that what Brenner said was true—she wasn’t ready, not even physically, but mentally…because she was not prepared to learn that even her best attempts at saving the world were actually helping Henry build to the end of it.

Combine that with the fact that she ends up losing Max despite trying to fight with Mike's encouragement...on top of the fact that all of her relationship with Mike was rooted in her wanting to feel "normal" (aka what Vecna just shot out the window permanently)?

...no amount of "I love you's" from a boy as insecure as Mike (who she keeps at emotional distance) is was going to help that, especially given that Mike was directly mirroring what Brenner (who she literally cannot stand atp) said to her trying to encourage her.

All of this...we haven't even touched on anything happening on Mike's side or how her powers (that he so admires her for) are now officially "evil" in El's mind, never mind every other aspect of their incompatibility? ☠️

—I know I'm gonna move from this post on to how what Brenner said to her about "facing the good and the bad / humans are rarely so simple" is actually how El's arc has to be resolved in the end, but.

For now I'm at 30 images and anything more would get convoluted easy, so I'll just leave us (and my million mile an hour thoughts) here.

#this post turned out so long but I HAD to get it out before it drove me insane lmao #byler #< target audience #anti mlvn #el hopper #mike wheeler #martin brenner #my s4 rewatch #henry creel #vecna #my st commentary #stranger things

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louisupdates · 6 months

Text

The Habit He Can’t Break, 2/4

IQ 123 | Gordon Masson | 9.11.2023

“In Santiago, for instance, we’d sold out two full arenas of 13,000 cap, but then the government declared that for mass gatherings the number needed to be limited to 10,000 people.”

Rather than let fans down, Move added a third day, which again ended up selling out. “I remember being on a night plane from Miami, while Matt Vines was flying in from Dallas, and we were both using the aircraft wi-fi to negotiate via text for that third show. It was an interesting way to confirm putting the third date on sale, just three days before the actual show!”

He adds, “We’re taking a big bet on this tour when it comes to the number of cities and the capacities of the venues, but we’re hoping for the best, and we’ve gone out strong. We feel that the artist is in a good moment and that the latest album has just created more interest, so we’re looking forward to when he arrives in May.”

Further north, Ocesa will promote three dates in Mexico, including a stadium show at the F1 circuit, Autódromo Hermanos, Rodríguez, deepening Tomlinson’s footprint in that crucial North American market.

Meanwhile, in Tomlinson’s homeland, Jack Dowling at SJM is promoting seven UK dates in November at arenas in Sheffield, Manchester, Glasgow, Brighton, Cardiff, London, and Birmingham, which will round out the European leg of the tour.

“SJM has done every show Louis has been involved with, including all the One Direction arena and stadium shows” notes Dowling, adding that on the first tour, the London show was originally penciled in as a Roundhouse, then two Roundhouse shows, before finally being upgraded to Wembley Arena.

“This time, The O2 arena show in London will be sold out, while all the others have passed the expectations of where we wanted to be on this tour. In fact, when the UK dates were announced, it ranked as the fourth most engaged tour on social media in SJM’s history – his fans are just nuts.”

But Dowling also reports that the fanbase for Tomlinson is expanding. “The demographics are pulling not just from pop, but also from indie rock now.”

Dowling adds, “Louis really looks after his fans. On the last tour, they did a deal with Greggs to give free food to the people waiting in line, as some of them camped out for days in advance.”

Out of My System

Ensuring his fans are looked after properly is the number one priority in Tomlinson’s live career.

Noting that Tomlinson’s audience comprises mainly young women and girls, Rowland reveals that, at the artist’s insistence, a safety team has been added to the tour to ensure everyone that attends his shows is looked after. “They manage all the safety within the shows for the fans,” she explains. “They came in for the Wembley show last year and have been with us ever since - they’ve been beneficial to the running of the tour.

“When he played in South America, some of his fans were camping outside for a month. So we have a responsibility to look after them. Coming to a show should be a safe place, it’s where they find joy, and we have a responsibility to protect that.”

Manager Vines comments, “One issue that we came up against almost all last year was crushing and fans passing out. We adopted a system where we could communicate with fans, who could hold up a mobile phone with a flashing red-and-white sign if they were in trouble but then we’d see them all popping up.

“I don’t know whether some of that was a hangover of the pandemic where fans just weren’t used to being in venues. But we experienced a number of situations where hydration and temperatures in venues became an issue. I know Billie Eilish went through similar issues.”

With Tomlinson determined to meet a duty of care toward his fans, Vines says that the team now sends a “considerable advance package” to promoters ahead of their tour dates. “Our safety team goes into venues in the morning, and basically ensures that a number of different things are in place – making sure that water is given to the fans, where the water comes from, and at what points in the show it happens.”

And on the crushing phenomena, he reports, “We’ve worked out how many fans it’s safe to have without a secondary barrier. So we instruct promoters to have certain barriers in place to relieve the pressure and avoid crushing.”

He adds, “I get detailed incident reports after each show, which lets myself and my management team know exactly what happened, and so far on this tour, we haven’t had any issues with crushing or hydration, which is fantastic.”

Production manager Craig Sherwood is impressed by the way the tour has pivoted to protect the ‘Louies.’ “The welfare officers are vital for the young girls were aged from, I guess, 14 upwards. They can get dehydrated and malnourished pretty quickly if they are camping out for days, so it’s important that we look out for their well-being,” says Sherwood.

Citing the extremes that the Louies will put themselves through in an effort to secure themselves prime positions at the front of the stage, Sherwood recalls, “The first show on our US tour was in February, and it was freezing, but we found out that girls had been camping out on the pavement for five days. It’s crazy, as we know these young girls are coming from all over the world to see Louis.”

However, Tomlinson’s connection with those fans is evident in the level of merchandise sales at each show. “It’s a huge part of our business, says Vines. “In America, we averaged about $36 a head, and it’s not much shy of that in Europe – we set a few national records in terms of spend per head. But we spend a lot of time on merch plans, and we do venue-specific drops and give it a lot of care and attention, as it’s a really important element of Louis’ business.”

1/4, 3/4, 4/4

#louis tomlinson #iq magazine #louis press #9.11.2023

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silversweetpea · 1 year

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Come Home

word count: 3798

summary: A nightmare is only a nightmare when viewed at the right perspective.

Warning: reader is sad and doesn’t like themselves a whole lot but there’s no outright self deprecation.

author’s note: I am obsessed with the idea of Nightmare reader and the way that I just barely restrained myself from making this like a 30 chapter slow burn makes me feel like I have earned a little treat. A little reward if you will, so if you need me I will be writing up yet another self indulgent little story lmao. Also if anyone wants those thoughts on previous chapters of pining I cut so that this wasn’t insane I have so many thoughts please come talk to be about them holy shit.

❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿

Nightmares weren’t designed to be loved. They weren’t even made to be thanked. You, in specific, would know that better than anyone else. And yet, standing on the outskirts of yet another beautiful party for yet another beautiful couple, it was easy to ignore the sting in the back of your throat and the way that you could feel the vines curling around your heart.

You were made in the image of love unrequited, you had always known that. But the waking world was bursting with love and at least this way you were able to stand in its afterglow.

The bride and groom were beaming, radiant in their joy. There was a moment where you were worried about the state of things when it started to drizzle but there had been backup plans ready, tents secured, and smiles on everyone’s faces.

“It’s good luck,” The bride had giggled when you did your final pre-ceremony check in with her. The woman couldn’t be older than her early twenties and yet for just a moment you could see the echoes of all the brides you had assisted. Young and old but always beautiful in their joy. eighty years was a long time to stay in the same field, to keep mysteriously appearing at just the right time, and yet you couldn’t resist it.

The plate in your hand was easily placed in reach of a wandering child, sure they would get far more enjoyment from the sugar rush than you would. You lingered long enough to look at the couple again, to rest in their warmth and imagine for just a moment that you could have that someday too.

And then there was a cough that began to threaten to rip through your throat and you were moving again. It was better that way anyhow.

“He’s not coming back for you, don’t you get that? He’s not coming back for any of us. You might as well see the world, have a little fun.” The Corinthian was the closest thing you had to a friend these days which meant that even after months of silence between you two, his voice lingered in the corners of your mind.

It didn’t help that he didn’t understand your need to be so close to humanity and you didn’t know how to explain it. Not to someone who had always been content with his purpose in the dreaming. Hell, the only reason he had ever found to venture further than it’s boundaries was because he wanted more of the world to see him and what he could do. Corinthian loved, you knew he did, but it wasn’t the sort of endless ace that you were forced to chase for all of time simply by virtue of being alive.

Still, you thought of calling him. Especially when the man in a suit similar to his tailed you from the reception.

“Hey! You’re the planner right?” Nightmares could recognize one another plain enough for you to know that the groomsman meant no harm in chasing after you. Unfortunately that did little to ease the annoyance at his questions and when you turned to face him the most you could manage was a thin smile.

“That’s me.” His eyes were bright, almost the same shade of Dream’s the last time you had spoken to him. There were no stars there though, no depth to the waters. His hair was several shades lighter and much shorter, his posture more outward than your king would have ever been with you.

“I just wanted to...” he struggled for a minute before you could see the lightbulb go off. “I just wanted to say thank you for your help in the wedding. It was really great and I know that Garrett and Anna wouldn’t have been nearly as prepared without you.”

“Just doing my job.” He didn’t need to know that you weren’t paid, that you had no intention of being paid other than the slice of cake. You never were. You had plenty of money and the fewer ways for people to prove you existed the easier it was to convince them you didn’t. That their friends were actually the planners along with some strangly helpful staff at the locations.

“I, uhm, never got your name,” Josh. That was his name. He wasn’t the best man but he was fairly close with the groom. There was a split second where you allowed yourself to imagine what would happen if you introduced yourself. The few weeks of easy affection and the hope, however brief, that you would finally find use for the bouquet within your ribs. Poppies could represent something soft and romantic instead of a constant reminder that you were left behind. Abandoned on a windowsill to wilt.

But you had played that game before and eventually the thorns would grow too big or you would pull away from a kiss to watch them pull petals from their mouth. And then when you left, the ache would be so intense you were sure it would kill you.

“You didn’t need it.” The gap closed between the two of you just enough to give him a pat on the shoulder before leaving. You didn’t look back at him as you waved. “Goodnight Josh.”

He was still standing there when you pulled out of the parking lot. New York didn’t feel nearly as big as it used to as you pulled up to your apartment and went through the motions of packing up. Four years on the dot. More than enough time to make a name for yourself that you could use as reference when you arrived wherever you were going.

Instead you ran a bath of scalding water and lingered in the water until you could convince yourself that the brief flicker of warmth you felt was not Dream reappearing in the waking world after a century of silence, but rather that it was just the water. There was no love for nightmares, no matter where you went that was true, and if there was to be no love for you in either realm at least in the world of the waking you could peek through the windows at its beauty.

There was, however, voices in the living room that shouldn’t be. It was hard to make out the words but you knew the deep baritone and creaking of floorboards were not from the television. You hadn’t even brushed by the thing since yesterday evening when you finished your last minute paperwork.

Pajamas were slipped into quickly and quietly, footsteps muffled from the towel you’d placed on the ground to absorb any of the water spilled from your movement in the bath. Your throat burns with the scratching of vines creeping up it and your hand shakes as you hover over the doorknob. You don’t fear whoever is on the other side, you worry for them. To be buried in flowers sounds so beautiful until you see it happen.

“Are you sure about this boss?” You don’t know the voice, but there’s a strange chirp like sound at the end of his sentence. There’s no malice but the words do quiver slightly. Whatever his boss is doing is making him nervous.

You don’t wait for his boss to respond before opening the door and allowing the thorny vines that had been writhing under your skin to pierce through. The petals that suffocated you were flowing freely from your mouth, piling up at your feet.

The man in front of you doesn’t budge from the monstrous image and when you manage to look him in the eye, the thorns retreat.

“What are you doing here?” It’s your turn for your voice to shake as you look at Dream. He seems tired, but not ill, gaunt but strong enough to demand respect in the center of your living room. Behind him is a raven, not jessamy but you knew how to recognize the king’s familiars in moments.

Dream doesn’t respond, voice just as you remembered it the last time you spoke over a hundred years ago. For his part, he says nothing about what the piles of petals at your feet or the way your jaw drops open. The last time you had seen him plays in snapshots in your mind.

“All I have ever asked was that you let me have some semblance of a home. I have lingered at the edge of your shadow for millennia and all I have to show for it is the same empty chasm within myself that I had upon my first breath!”

His features were just as hard as they had been then. Except for the fact that he had his hands hidden from you now. Tucked away into the pockets of his jacket, eyes softer than was warranted for a nightmare. Morpheus loved all of the dreaming, but he was never soft with a nightmare, it isn’t what you were made for.

“We can talk about this when I return.”

“Corinthian told me you have begun to use a new name,” He speaks as if this was a social call. Nothing more than two friends catching up together instead of a call for you to return to your duties or a warning of your punishment to come from leaving your post. Its all you can do to move far enough into the living room to rest your weight against an armchair.

“Yeah, I have. I found that (Y/n) fit me a bit better than Isolation.” The raven gave a startled sort of noise, head whipping between the two of you before falling back into silence. “I’m sorry, you’re new right?”

“Yeah, sorry. Name’s Mathew,” It suited him. Names usually did. Perhaps that was why Dream was still staring at you with that closed book expression regarding your new title. The warm lights of your apartment looked strange on his cool toned skin. Your life here had been built up in such a carefully human way that you weren’t sure that he was really there at all. Mathew looked like he belonged on your couch more and he was a literal raven.

Your chest aches again. To know that Dream is so close, that his whole attention is on you for however brief a moment, it’s intoxicating. It’s also suffocating.

“Well, is there a point to this call?” There are snappier responses on the tip of your tongue but you can’t will them into existance. Not when your king, the only person you have ever truly longed for, was taking such slow and graceful steps in your direction.

“(Y/n),” your voice sounds like a prayer on his lips. You had chosen it for yourself because you loved it but that love is easy to grow accustomed to, to take for granted. To hear Dream say your name is to fall in love all over again, both with your self chosen identity and the king who spoke as if you were something precious he couldn’t afford to loose. “I would like for you to come home.”

You will. His hand moves from his pocket to rest in the air, palm up. You know, despite only having brushed by his hands with your own on rare occasions, that his skin will be cool to the touch, near freezing given that your skin was still steaming from the bath.

Mathew watches the two of you, you wonder what he must think to see someone stare so intensely at Lord Morpheus’ hand.

“Why did you abandon us?” the room chills by several degrees but you don’t look away from the extended hand that stays just in your reach. “I would rather have been unmade on the spot where I stood than spent a hundred years thinking that you just didn’t care enough to come back and finish the job.”

“I have always cared for you, I care for all of the Dreaming.” A single cough, enough to dislodge a stray petal that you pull from your mouth with little more than a sad scoff.

“I know. Gods I know you care, that’s what hurt the worst. I know I’m not made to be loved or cherished like a dream is, like you are, but when you said you were coming back to talk to me I had hoped-” the words die on your tongue. You were willing to reveal more than you had ever before, but some things were still too personal to put into the air. You can only imagine the chaos that could be inflicted by someone like Desire should they catch you straying too close to their realm.

The silence is heavy and you can’t tell if you would rather it end or stretch forever. At least in this space of in between he hadn’t confirmed your fears yet. The petal you had been playing with was slowly picked from your grasp and it looked even more fragile in Dream’s touch.

“Was I really so cruel that you would think so little of me?” His voice is little more than a whisper. In fact you weren’t sure that Mathew was able to hear the two of you all. That was probably for the best though given that you were currently struggling to breathe once more and barely managed to sputter out a word before being cut off once more.

“Little-”

“You came to me with a problem and I had every intent on fixing it.” His gaze burns into you but there’s no bravery left to meet him. You just accept that he is examining you. If his face was the opposite of the careful regret in his voice you’re not sure you wanted to see it anyhow.

“You’re a king. You’re able to do whatever you want and that didn’t include finding me.” The floorboards crack as Dream moves closer again. It’s just another foot or so but you can nearly feel the brush of his jacket against you where it sways.

“It was not for a lack of wanting to search,” Mathew shuffles a bit on the couch behind Dream. Does he know who you are? If he doesn’t, who does he think he is meeting? In the time that you look away to Mathew your king moves ever closer. A single hand reaches up to your cheek at the speed which would make the erosion of stone feel like a flash in the pan of time. “I should not have made you in this image.”

“But you did.” You sound as breathless as you feel and can’t help but close your eyes at the intimacy of the moment. Millenia of longing, of starvation for the barest of touches had left you in this predicament. You can feel every atom of where you end and he began and wished that you could press those atoms even closer together to close whatever space remained between you for this moment.

“Yes.” A second hand comes up as the first lowers, both of them cupping your face. You can feel Dream’s breath on your skin but you still fear what you may find in his eyes if you look.

“Why?”

It takes him longer than you thought it would to answer and you swallow no less than three budding flowers in that time. Stress had never seemed to activate the more painful parts of your condition before and yet now you were sure that it did.

“Because when you were made, I was alone and that had seemed the worst nightmare of all. And now that I am not I see that I was correct.” There’s a flutter of wings that draws your attention and Mathew, who just a split second before had seemed to be elated with something, now turned his head down sheepishly.

It’s enough to make you smile, which is enough to give you the strength to look him in the eyes. Dream’s eyes have always been that which you admired most about him. No matter the color or shape his eyes always seem to hold infinite depths within them. Morpheus was the Dreaming and his eyes were the ocean which never quite calmed enough to navigate safely.

“Glad to be of service your majesty.” The title causes a twist, nearly imperceivably, in his expression. Had you not been watching the man so closely you would have missed it you were sure. The hands do not leave your face and for a second you allow yourself to daydream of leaning forward, of kissing him.

“You have done more than I could have asked of you, (Y/n), It is time to rest.” His hands are cool on your face and cool where you rest your own hands over them, a silent ask for him not to withdraw, not to leave you alone in your own skin again. “Please, come home. Let me remake you into something less cruel.”

It should make you nervous, the thought of being unmade. It should drive you to the brink of fear and anger and cause you to run or fight but instead you imagine living without the burden of want and your body relaxes.

“Do you promise it will be kind?” If Dream had been mortal he would not have heard you. It’s little more than a thought, your lips barely move. But Dream is not mortal and your eyes close just as soon as he nods, eyes still locked in on yours.

“You have both my word,” his voice deepened and the volume dropped as you feel his lips press to your forehead ever so lightly. “and my deepest apologies.”

The magic of the moment lingers as you feel yourself slinking into the dark of the void beyond. It isn’t particularly cold or particularly warm but you feel something you can only attribute as peace as you faded into the depths.

Being born again is as easy as waking up. The first sound is the crashing of waves on a familiar shore and the first smell is salt and water. Your new eyes’ first sight is so similar to your old ones that you’re almost not sure that this isn’t a memory for a moment.

But then Dream smiles, small and questioning in its silence, and something in you melts. Your hand moves to cover your mouth on instinct only to find...nothing. No petals. No torn up mouth. No vines.

Through your self exploration, the turn you make as you look for any sign of nightmare within yourself and the laughter that builds slowly but surely until you can’t keep it in anymore, Morpheus says nothing. You’re not sure how long you stand there because time has always been such a nebulous concept in the Dreaming, and yet you know that it’s long enough for you to make yourself dizzy from the spinning.

“What’s my title?” The king finally seems to snap out of whatever daze he had found himself in while you looked over the familiar build. From what you could tell it was exactly the same save for the self consuming flowers that threatened to rip yourself apart from the inside.

"Anything you would like it to be,” You spin again, elated at the ability to move without the feeling of constriction around your bones. Dream’s voice is warm and you can hear the smile again as you stumble to a stop, closer than you would have ever dared without an excuse to fall back on. An excuse you wouldn’t need if the sudden presence of a cool hand against your hip to steady you was any sign of approval. The closeness makes it hard to focus on air again, caught instead by the intensity of the look leveled your way. “You told me that you would grant me anything I asked of you, and yet you never stopped to wonder why I could not bring myself to ask.”

Your hand shakes as you bring it to his face as he did to yours in the waking world. Every moment is slow in case he were to change his mind, to give him a opportunity to pull away. Dream doesn’t though and to feel him lean into your touch is enough to make you giddy all over again. It makes it easier to ignore the way that your stomach has begun doing summersaults at the thought that your longing had been but one side of a window for all this time.

“I didn’t think you wanted anything I had to offer.”

“I wanted everything you had to offer and then some. I would have destroyed you.” It’s a statement, a fact. And yet you can’t help but take a step closer into his personal space, to lean more into him and see if he would support you. Dream does, without question or comment.

“Maybe. But I would have taken it nonetheless.” A second hand joined the first on the opposite hip and now that you were secure and there was no way to run from the situation you had found yourself in there was a spark of bravery in your veins. Not quite enough to lean forward and kiss him yet, but enough that despite his gaze you didn’t shy away from openly admiring him. “I still would if you offered.”

“And if I offered a place at my side instead?” There’s quiet again. Morpheus holding your hips and you holding his face and the neither of you speaking, just swaying ever so slightly in the wind.

“I would take it.” Tension slips away at the confession. A small release in the lines of his brow and an easier lilt to his smile. “You could ask me to be your advisor or your jester alike and I would accept either with the same optimism.”

“And if I would ask to court you?” The kings voice isn’t scared, but it is cautious. His words even slower, his swaying stopping long enough for him to make eye contact during which he seems to search your very being.

“Dream,” The gaze doesn’t break. “Morpheus, I would give you everything I am for nothing more than a moment with you.”

The silence returns just for a beat, something you can hear unobstructed from within your chest for the first time. And then, like the sun rising over the horizon, a smile lights up Dream’s face as he leans his face ever nearer your own.

“Is that a yes?” You can feel his words against your lips for how close you two are and you can only hope that when you close that final gap he doesn’t doubt your answer too terribly much.

Although, if he did you had some ideas on how to convince him.

#Dream x reader #Dream of the endless x reader #Morpheus x reader #Sandman x reader #Dream x you #Dream of the endless x you #Morpheus x you #Sandman x you

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moonschildsworld · 1 year

Note

Omg I’d love a Nagi POV for Regrets 🥹 Only if you’d love to do it though!

author note: I'm sorry, it look so long T^T but at last, here it is! i hope it doesn't disappoint :<

☆ p.s: i got another great plot idea but I'm worried I can't execute it properly but i'll try my best. hint: it's about itoshi brothers wink wink.

♡ for new readers, before you read this, make sure you read the main part!

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

We lost. I lost? Me?

I could feel my hot blood running through my vines as I collapsed, my hand fisting the grass my fingers dig into the dirt trying to hold onto something to keep my sanity from slipping away, as the whistle screech out signaling the game was over in our opponents’ victory, ending it with a close call of 3-4. What’s more regrettable and got me feeling like shit is that I was going to propose to her on the interview I was suppose to go on after I win this match. I could finally gather up my courage to do troublesome thing like that, just for her.

I was suppose to win the match, coach said that team was the easiest target, I almost got another goal in and we’d get to do penalty kicks and we’d smash them up then. So what went wrong?

My forehead was facing downward to the grass field as tears surge out of my eyes in frustration. Seriously, what the fuck went wrong? How did I lose? I could taste the bitter metal flavor as my bottom lip was bleeding from my front teeth sinking on it too hard.

I was so stuck on the idea that I was the best, I was unbeatable, the prodigy, the most promising player of the next generation of world class player. Nothing could’ve gone in my way. Nothing should’ve gone wrong when I’m on the field.

“come on man, coach said to gather everyone up” I got snapped out of my hellish thought reo’s voice rings into my ears. I took one deep breathe as my eyes suckle back up the tears. I got on my feet in slow motion and walks to the meeting in the locker room.

As expected, coach was furious. Silence fell as I walk into the room along with Reo when coach was just yelling. The silence and stares were suffocating, it was as the gazes were yelling, ‘it’s your fault’ ‘you were supposed to be the one who got us through dilemmas’ ‘the prodigy lost his touch?’

I couldn’t do anything but bite the inside of my mouth and get seated. After a few more minutes of silence, the coach clears his throat, “what’s up with you, nagi?” my stomach drops upon hearing the question , what’s up with me?, nothing is ever wrong with me so how am I suppose to answer this.

Another suffocating silence as no response were given from me as I kept staring at the tiles floor, the coach lets out a big disappointing sigh, he paces back and forth for a while in the room before he announces, “cancel any prior engagement or schedule, we’re staying here for a month for special training” with that, he storms out of the locker room shaking his head furiously.

Murmurs of complaints, groan and sighs were pour out as soon as the coach steps out, “only if someone had done their job properly” a benched player spoke out loudly in spite. “I know right, that’s why you shouldn’t have love to interfere with career” another spiteful comment follows. “what’s your career? Warming up the bench?” Reo hisses back to them as I kept my mouth shut, my eyes still glued on floor.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The special training and my pride getting smashed was the least of my worries right now but I couldn’t bring myself to open her message, I wanted to text her, “I won” to her good luck text, how can I face her now? My hand clenches my phone hardly as my head hangs down.

I know she wouldn’t eat me alive, nor tear my down just for one lost, and I don’t know why my feelings are this stubborn to run away from her. I know she would try her best to attempt to comfort me. So why do I want to run away?

I spent hours staring blankly at the phone before I made up my mind to shut the phone off and store it in the cabinet beside my hotel’s bed. I just need a day.

A day turn into days, days turn into a month. The anxiety bubbling up inside me never left and I just want to pierce myself and take it out, whatever is making me feel stuffy.

Training was hell, the constant backhanded comments and spiteful backlashes behind his back, from online and my teammates were really getting to me.

Coach pushing me more than he ever does, the gazes that were once admiring and praising me now turn into something more like a civilian camera that are waiting for me to trip again so they can all jump me.

She would never done that or let anybody do this to me.

Time passes quickly with the training that lasts almost the whole day with 8 hours to spare for mandatory personal business, eating and sleeping. It’s finally time to go back to Japan to continue the usual training and another match coming up in 2 months, I need to be on my best behavior so they won’t catch me tripping.

I am now alone again with my thoughts in the hotel room, I reach out for the phone in the cabinet for the first time in a month.

She must’ve been worried right?

I turn the phone back on, my heart thumping in anticipation for what she has to say.

..Nothing..? No new messages since that day..?

I could feel something snapped as the overwhelmed emotions that has been piling up over the past month came spilling out, I throw the phone across the room as my breathe grows heavier and quicker.

Does she not care about me? What’s the point of this relationship huh? When I’m away training my ass off, getting attacked verbally everyday, she hasn’t checked up on me once? Not mentioning, I haven’t answered her for a month, a month!

I sat down with my arms laying on my spreaded legs, my head hung down low. No, I directed my anger at her. She probably just didn’t want to get in way of my work here. I know that so, why..?

I raise my head up as my eyes turn blank and cold, no emotions found as my heart feels heavy out of the sudden, a voice suddenly flashes into my ears, “that’s why you shouldn’t have love to interfere with your career” it was the fleeting comment one of my teammate made.

That’s right.. She’s not necessary, is she? My mind is already heavy from soccer, why bother carrying any more unnecessary weight..? Come to think of it, she would understand. She probably can live, with her career and things, it shouldn’t be a hindrance to her, right..?

Yeah, she’d understand me. Y/n always does.

That’s how I selfishly broke up with her for my own career under a façade that I think she’d understand when I know she would break down even if she understands.

I broke up with her with a promise to never to lose again in any match, neither friendly—nor a serious match.

The result came to fruition as I have a come back in my career in the next match and I continue to do great the match after and the match after that. I buried myself in my career because that’s all I knew to do, it’s what I throw away everything for and I had a promise to keep, 3 years of full success, no loss.

It’s going great again, people that were waiting for my downfall click their tongue and turn away in defeat. People are again looking at me with praises and admiration. I had move up to join a more prestigious club and many others are offering million to get me, Isn’t this what I wanted? It is.

Strangely, now that I don’t feel heavy anymore, there’s a great amount of void in me. Of course, I have a slight idea of what is it but I choose to live in denial. She has been well, I keep watch on her, secretly of course I know much at least that she wouldn’t want to see me after all of that, at random times and she’s still the same, calm and composed. Going to work and going out with her friends once in a while. I do notice smiles are rare to come by for her. But she’ll get over it right? She’s y/n after all. That’s what I selfishly convince myself so I could look away, for my own benefit.I chose it myself so it’s a given that I chose to live with the void.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

That is until, today after 3 whole years, on a coincidence that I stepped out to get drinks, my eyes spot a familiar build standing outside of the stadium I was suppose to have a friendly match at today. I felt like the world had stopped moving as my eyes laid on her figure.

Before I knew it, my feet brought me to stand in front of her, without permission my voice calls out to her. She looks up in a slightly shocked expression but soon calms down. That’s it? Seeing me after all of this time. I could feel something poking at my heart.

I knew I shouldn’t be acting so familiar to her after all of that but my heart, my mind, they crave her more than I thought. She’s still as calm as ever, why am I the only one whose heart is thumping like some high school boy meeting his crush? This is so unfair. I asked her what she was doing here, I pray to gods that existed in all direction hoping for a slight chance that she’d say ‘I came to see you’

Our conversation was cut short by one of the guy in the opposition team I’m up against today, my heart drops seeing him acting so familiar with y/n, my y/n.

I didn’t know what my expression is shown on my face as I watch them. So she found someone after all..? They act like I wasn’t standing there in front of them, I just want to yell at y/n to keep her attention on me, what rights do I have..?

I bite the inside of my mouth as I try to keep myself in check. y/n finally turned her attention back to me, like a puppy, that much attention had me wagging my tail at her if I had one. That unsettling feeling attack again as she introduced the muscle blonde head as her boyfriend.

I just want to rip my body and scoop out the intestine that keeps developing that feeling. “are you playing against my boyfriend today?” I know I am probably just imagining it but it seems like she emphasized my boyfriend to spite me. “…yeah” was all I managed to get out of my mouth. I soon come to realized that it made things awkward, fuck I didn’t want it to be this way with y/n, after all these years, after finally she can meet me eye to eye again.

The blonde muscle man decided to steal her away again, in excuse of guiding her to her seat. I could feel my heart tightened at how she smiles at him, how she talks, how she jokes, the way she gazes at him. Those all used to be mine, It should’ve been forever mine.

He grabbed her hands and guide her away. No, she can’t go just like this, I need to come up with something— “do you think I’ll do well today?” the question spills out of my mouth before I can think about it thoroughly and I wanted to dig myself into a hole. Seriously man? In front of her boyfriend?

Though to be frank, I couldn’t care much because she turned to me again and flash one of her smile at me, “you always do well, don’t doubt yourself” I could feel myself choking up, that’s what she always used to say but it’s not the same anymore, where’s the loving tone she always uses?!

Before I could say anything more, the blonde almost dragged her away. I could only watch their backs as they disappear among the crowds.

There it is again, the same unsettling feeling but this time, I had nothing to throw away anymore, I have nothing..

My head was hazy, eyes are blurry. It feels like all of senses had been lost. The match starts and ended before I can realized. I had only realized when the same gruel some screeching sound of whistle signaling the match had ended,,, in the opponent’s victory.

It felt like déjà vu, it felt like that day. That day I felt like I had lost everything but no, I had my everything back then. I dropped to my knees as tears spill out of my eyes, the tears blocking my visions as some teammates came forward surrounded me and frantically comfort me and ask me what's wrong.

My eyes were stuck on the two of them as she runs from the sideline and he picks up her and spin her mid-air. I see it, her genuine smile, she’s happy, she’s genuinely at peace. And he was the one who makes it possible..

There’s no me in the picture anymore, I am not involved in her life anymore. It makes sense now, she wasn’t unnecessary. She never was, what she was is an essential, I couldn’t figure that out. I was blinded by guilt, pride & anger.

This unsettling feeling here and back then, it’s regret. Back then, I regret not being able to win the match for her and regret not being able to continue with my plan to propose to her on national TV. Right now, I regret now knowing and understanding the feeling of ‘regret’ until it’s now too late to know.

But one thing that I don’t regret is that, if one of us can be happy, I always had prayed that it would be you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

#bllk x female reader #blue lock #nagi angst #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #bllk fanfic #bllk x reader #bllk nagi #bllk angst #bllk anime

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strangersatellites · 11 months

Text

pride, envy, sloth, gluttony, greed, lust, ao3

Seven Deadly Sins Series (NSFW 18+)

wrath (noun): uncontrolled feelings of anger, rage, and even hatred. wrath often reveals itself in the wish to seek vengeance. in its purest form, wrath presents with injury, violence, and hate

cw: rough sex, unhealthy relationships, blood, unsafe sex, choking, slapping, dacryphilia, angst (????) on accident, probably more tbh they genuinely fucking hate each other in this universe

This thing they’d had going on for three months now really had started off fun.

It started out soft and sweet. Stolen kisses in the back of The Hideout, quick, messy blowjobs in the backseat of Steve’s car, booty calls late at night when one or the other couldn’t sleep.

He can’t really identify what went wrong or when. All Steve knows is that the butterflies that he used to get when Eddie came around have turned and twisted into something sharp and heavy. Now when they’re within earshot of each other it's all biting insults and low-blows.

Somewhere along the line, the happiness that Eddie planted in his heart morphed into bitter resentment. But Steve’s nothing if not self-sacrificial, and the sex was too good to give up. Who is he to deny himself of the only good thing Eddie has left to offer him? So now he finds himself shoved into bar bathrooms and left high and dry, bruises mottled up and down his chest and dark bags under his eyes from a fitful sleep. Somehow he’s convinced himself it's better than nothing.

On nights where he can’t shake the memory of Eddie’s lips on his and his heart fluttering pretty and soft, he goes out.

He goes out to a seedy club and he finds someone that he won’t remember the name of in the morning and he tries anything to clear his mind. Nothing’s ever as good.

Tonight he’s found himself a few beers deep and tracing water stains on the bar top at some place he’s never been just outside of town. He’d spent the last ten minutes or so talking to a guy that looked like he’d show him a good enough time. Dark, curly hair cut so that it flopped down into his face, pretty blue eyes that went a shade darker when they looked Steve over, and a shirt cut low enough that Steve could see ink swirl across his collarbones in vines and leaves.

Steve thinks his name is Adam, but he wasn’t really listening and still really isn’t. He’s found that a few soft laughs and hums while guys talk is usually enough to feign interest long enough to coax them to a bathroom.

This guy, Adam maybe, is about two seconds away from dragging him there himself, he can tell. It’s written all over his body language. Steve smiles his prettiest smile and flutters his eyelashes.

But as soon as he opens his mouth to purr something like “Do you want to get out of here?” There are strong arms snaking around his waist and teeth scraping at his throat and Steve’s blood runs hot in an instant. He’s well-accustomed to it no longer being a good sensation.

Steve shoves his elbow back with as much force as he can muster and it all goes red before he even hears his chuckle.

“Strike out again, Harrington? I made it just in time then, huh sweetheart,” Eddie coos in a tone dripping with condescension.

He’s on his feet and shoving at Eddie’s chest with enough force he knows it’ll bruise, sees it knock the wind out of him a bit. Gets right up in his face and would do anything to rip that self-satisfied smirk right off of it.

“You miserable fucking prick,” he spits, uncaring of the way Eddie flinches back the tiniest bit. “I was not striking out, and I never am! And yet here you come acting like you’re saving some damsel in distress when it’s you crawling back to me. Every. Single. Time,” he punctuates with jabs to his chest.

Eddie’s smile doesn’t leave as he huffs a laugh. His tongue swipes across sharp, sharp teeth and he leers at Steve with narrowed eyes. Predatory in a way Steve liked once upon a time but now makes him want to punch out his teeth. He’s got his hands in his pockets and he looks entirely too comfortable with the fact that he just ruined Steve’s night. Again.

“God, sweetheart. You’re so wound up,” he whispers, face pinching up in faux concern. He brings his hands up to smooth down Steve’s biceps and digs his fingers in tight enough that he doesn’t budge with Steve’s attempts at shaking him off. “Tell me. When was the last time someone fucked you good enough that you remembered his name the next morning, now be honest.” He leans in close and that smirk is back and Steve hates it. “You can say it was me, honey. It’ll be our little secret.”

And Steve’s seeing red again because he’s right.

It was him. It’s always him and probably always will be.

He gets back up in his space once more and makes sure he’s looking at his eyes when he whispers a sharp “Fuck. You.”

And it's only for a split second but he swears he sees hurt flash through brown eyes. Gone in an instant and replaced with a real, raw indifference that Steve thinks might be worse.

He feels a hand at the back of his neck and Eddie’s lips brush his ear.

“Yours or mine?”

And it was always going to go like this. Steve’s not under any illusions. Knew this time wouldn’t be different. But it still stings the way that he knows in an alternate universe that question might’ve been accompanied with giggles and a kiss.

But then he remembers the way that Eddie looked so proud when Steve first said he hated him and the rage is back ten-fold.

He turns on his heel and knows he’s being followed.

“Yours. Don’t want you in my fucking house.”

*****

Steve’s got Eddie’s wrists pinned to the wall above his head and his teeth raking down his neck. Wants to leave a mark. A memory.

He hears Eddie gasp as Steve’s hips shove hard against his own and he shoves harder in retaliation.

“Remember when you used to kiss me?” Steve asks, Eddie’s breath against his face enough to pull some bricks from the walls he’s spent months building.

He feels more than hears Eddie’s hum. Feels his knee come up to shove him backwards until he’s the one pressed against the wall, face turned sideways and arms pinned behind his back.

“Yeah sweetheart.” He leans in to bite at Steve’s ear and make him hiss.

Steve’s grinning, ugly and mean when he grits out “Worst decision of my fucking life.”

But now Eddie’s the one smirking, he can hear it when he speaks. “Mine too. Liked my life a lot better when I didn’t know what you taste like.”

Steve aims for the shin when he bucks a foot backwards, nails it if Eddie’s grunt is anything to go by. He spins around and shoves at Eddie hard enough to send them both to the floor, grateful for a second the fact that his muscle mass makes it easy to manhandle his way into what he wants.

He laughs, loud and fake. “Now see, that I just don’t believe, Eddie.” He’s got his eyebrows raised high and pout on his lips and he knows what’s coming and he relaxes into it.

And yeah maybe Steve’s strong, but Eddie knows him. Knows when his guard is down. He gets his knees up around Steve’s hips and flips them over, Steve’s back against the ground and there’s the fury Steve’s been after. Been trying to bring it out all night.

Eddie’s got a ringed hand pressed tight against Steve’s throat when he finally lets himself feel. Feel good the way only Eddie can make him. Lets the fight drain out of him as his vision goes spotty. Eddie’s spitting words in his face, “Do you ever shut the fuck up?” and saliva into his mouth and it’s so bad-good.

His next breath is heaving as he comes back down and Eddie’s already standing and walking away.

“Get up. I don’t have all night.”

And now that he’s got Eddie mad, got him fired up, he knows he can let himself go. Lets himself fall even though he knows Eddie’s not going to catch him. Thinks it's worth it until it's not. Until tomorrow when he remembers the way he and Eddie won’t look at each other when their friends are around. They way they don’t talk.

Because this is how it's always going to go. He’s going to let Eddie rile him up, make his sharp, heavy butterflies flutter out in words he thinks he doesn’t really mean. He’s going to push and push and push until Eddie breaks. And even though he started it, Eddie always will. Break, that is. He’ll break out of his self-assured, indifferent asshole persona and he’ll turn into something real and mean. Someone that hates Steve back.

Steve thinks it shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

There’s nothing gentle about the way Eddie stretches him open. The way he smacks the inside of Steve’s thigh hard enough it leaves a welt the shape of his hand.

He’s got two fingers inside him and Steve feels so good and he can’t help but talk. Head thrown back, words fall from his lips between desperate moans.

“Hate you so fucking much.”

A smack to his ass and a dejected huff.

“Yeah. I know you do sweetheart."

Steve groans in annoyance but his back arches all the same.

“Hate it when you call me that.”

And he’s not looking but he knows Eddie is rolling his eyes.

“I know you do, baby.”

And there’s tears pricking at the back of his eyes because sure he really does hate this man. Really does think he’d have been better off never meeting him. But all he can hear when Eddie calls him “baby” is the way he used to say it through laughter against his skin.

He knows he’s pouting but he thinks he deserves it with the bitter memories he’s fighting away. “Hate that even worse.”

Eddie pulls his fingers out and crawls up his body to squeeze at his cheeks until he fishmouths.

“I know. Now shut up and stop crying. You wanted me mean and you’ve fucking got it baby.”

Steve gasps high in his throat when Eddie grabs him by his hips and flips him onto his belly and something about this flavor of anger Eddie’s wearing sets Steve off again. But this time his anger isn’t a facade. It's raw and real and it's hurt that got brushed aside and became something else entirely.

“Hate what we could’ve been. Hate that I hate you.” He says into a pillow.

He hears Eddie groan and not in a good way. In the way he does when he’s annoyed. He feels his weight lay over his back and his hand on the inside of his thigh yanking upward and open.

“Well I hate that you don’t know when to stop talking." He grits out and the pressure as he presses inside Steve is enough to make him white out.

By the time he builds up a bruising rhythm, punching Steve’s breath out of him on every thrust, he’s talking again.

“Could’ve given you everything you wanted sweetheart,” and his tone is so patronizing, “But it just wasn’t fucking enough was it?”

And Steve’s barely holding on to his consciousness through the pressure deep in his guts and the hand pressing the back of his neck down, down, down. But he’s still got enough wherewithal that that strikes a chord.

Because no, having Eddie behind closed doors wasn’t enough. And Eddie knows that. He knows how that hurt him and chooses to use it against him anyway.

His voice is muffled into the pillow and broken up by whimpers and whines but he speaks anyway.

“Well it wasn’t my– shit, so good. Wasn’t my pride that got in the way.”

Eddie’s hips slow to a deep grind and freeze pressed to the hilt.

The hand at the back of Steve’s neck slides to the front and yanks him up on his knees, pressed against Eddie’s chest.

His chest is heaving where its plastered to Steve’s back and his voice rumbles through them both.

“Maybe not. But it was you that kept your mouth shut and made it my fault.”

Steve goes to argue but gets cut off by the sharp stinging of teeth breaking the skin against his shoulder blade. His breath goes ragged on a shriek and his vision whites out around the edges. Eddie’s shoving him back down, ass-up and face smushed sideways. His hand slips up and pries his mouth wide open and shoves in hard, stopping anything he could possibly say. Steve’s eyes are wide where he’s staring, gone glassy and wet.

“And it looks like now you don’t know how to do that, do you baby?” He asks.

And he’s got his fingers down his throat and his dick shoved deep.

There’s blood dripping from his teeth in that sharp, bitter smile. And he’s so pretty. And Steve hates him.

He chokes around his fingers on a sob as Eddie picks up his pace again.

Hates that it feels so good.

Hates that he comes back for this.

Hates that Eddie’s right.

Because maybe he can’t pinpoint when or where things went south, but he knows it has everything to do with the way he started needing more and not asking for it. Knows Eddie was letting him figure it out on his own. And instead of just going for it, he knows he started blaming.

So maybe he does hate Eddie. Hates him for the way he didn’t push him when he knew he needed it. Hates that he still uses him like this.

But he really hates himself. Because he could’ve had what he wanted but he didn’t take it.

(Hates that tomorrow he’ll forget this all again, too far in his head and in the feeling of Eddie taking what he wouldn’t give. He’ll forget it all and go back to hating him again.)

A sharp smack to the outside of his thigh brings him barreling back down into reality and it's Eddie’s words that send him hurdling into release.

“Here you fucking go again with the crying. God I hate that you’re so fucking pretty.”

Steve hates that that’s what does it for him. Hates that his crying is what does it for Eddie. Hates the way he’s filled up and will have to go home messy, the way Eddie pulls out of him and throws him his clothes.

He hears the flick of a lighter and Eddie’s heavy inhale from far away.

“I assume you can show yourself out.”

As Steve pulls his shirt over his head and wipes the tear tracks from his face he thinks “Yeah. This is why I hate him.”

And from the other side of the room Eddie thinks that if Steve would say half of the things that run through his mind with Eddie inside him, maybe they wouldn’t hate each other at all.

#seven deadly sins series #wrath #steddie #steddie fic #steddie smut #steve harrington #eddie munson #gin writes #this got way more angsty than I intended I am so sorry #they're both really awful for each other in this please be warned #this is also nearly triple the length it was supposed to be #can you tell this got away from me be honest #sponsored by gin watching shrek 2 and 3 #shameless delete and repost since the last one was up way too damn long for the interaction it got (respectfully)

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halsins-herbal-underpants · 2 months

Text

Control, Chapters 3+4 (finale!)

Halsin/Tav (Named Original Male Character)

Dayan | Seldarine drow Ranger

Rating: Explicit 18+

PWP, D/s, Sub Halsin, Bottom Halsin

CW: Rough Oral (hair pulling, deep throat, gagging), Light Bondage, Some mild blood

Kinks: Scent kink, face-sitting, face-fucking, biting, scratching, knotting, inappropriate use of Polymorph

Read Chapters 1+2 on Tumblr Read all on Ao3 Approx. 9k words

Dayan (Tav) needs some time to himself after the victory against Ketheric Thorm, the win a bittersweet one. Halsin finds him however, reluctant to leave the troubled drow alone. They decide to relax together and share a pipe --though due to Dayan's special blend, relaxing soon becomes the last thing on their minds. Dayan decides he wants to give a bit more than receive this time around, and Halsin obliges, Dayan indulging in his lover's body in way he hasn't gotten to experience for a very, very long time.

Light D/s fic where Halsin gets to experience submissiveness in safety and love and Dayan gets some catharsis for the very, very difficult month he's had.

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Dayan's teeth closed over his bottom lip in concentration, hiding his excited grin as he slid back down straddling Halsin's ribcage again. The vines held, Halsin's wrists bound above his head. They’d moved further up the islet, to a small copse of trees in the center, surrounded by wildflowers, where Dayan told Halsin to lie down with his arms crossed over his head. He concentrated hard, said a few words and glimmering green vines sprouted from the ground, ready to do his bidding.

“It seems I do remember that little spell you taught me, after all,” Dayan said with delight and ran his hand over Halsin’s arms and shoulders, massaging the muscles carefully. “Still comfy?" he asked, and Halsin nodded, breathing hard through his nose.

"I miss your scent," he rasped, in a voice that made the hairs on Dayan's arms rise and a delicious shiver thrum through him. Gods, he loved that voice. When the druid sounded like that, Dayan knew he was doing very good things to him.

“Then I won’t keep you from it any longer,” he purred, slowly crawling up the druid’s body. He shifted his legs to kneel over Halsin’s head, his thighs spreading right over his face and grinned down at him. “Snap your fingers twice for me, love?” Halsin obeyed and Dayan nodded, satisfied at hearing their agreed signal to stop if needed. He gripped his length in a hand, stroking it from base to tip a few times and then lowered himself, his scrotum squishing pleasantly over Halsin’s nose. He felt the full-body shudder of his lover as Halsin inhaled deeply, mouth already working to suck the supple skin and soft round orbs. “Gods…just like that…” Dayan groaned, his head falling back as he rolled his hips, grinding himself against Halsin’s face. Beads of sweat slid down his thighs and the druid huffed, straining his neck to lap eagerly at the soft skin and clean him of every drop.

Dayan ground down harder, stuffing Halsin’s mouth and nose with his heavy sack. “Open up more, wider,” he ordered breathlessly, huffing harder in pleasure when Halsin obeyed.

His lover sucked Dayan’s balls dutifully, his tongue working over them without cease, licking and tasting, saliva starting to drool from the corner of his mouth. The scent and taste of Dayan’s sweat and musk was making Halsin shudder and twitch with need, his thick cock bouncing slightly as his hips ground up into empty air. “Not – hhh – done with you yet,” Dayan gasped, fist working his curved shaft faster. He slid back just enough to be able to watch Halsin’s face as he moaned and mouthed over Dayan’s saliva-slick ballsack, his eyes hazy with lust.

“Fuck, that’s pretty,” the ranger gasped, lids heavy as he watched Halsin worship beneath him.

Precum beaded at the tip of that plush head and dripped, plinking onto the bridge of Halsin’s nose and sliding down over his cheek. Those glittering eyes stared up at Dayan under furrowed, needy brows and he actually whined, muffled around a mouthful of scrotum. Dayan grinned and gently slid back, freeing himself. Halsin sucked in a sharp breath and panted, his cheeks flushed darkly and his mouth wet. “Open up, beloved,” Dayan whispered, and smiled as that pink tongue slid out for him eagerly, ready to catch the drops of precum Dayan milked from his cock. His hand moved to slide two fingers into Halsin’s mouth, pulling it open more as he fed him, the druid swallowing every drop of syrup that drooled from the drow’s cockhead.

Watching Halsin moan for his taste made Dayan’s prick swell even harder; Dayan ground it against that scarred face, smearing precum and drool all over Halsin’s lips and cheeks, his lengthy shaft pressed into Halsin’s nose as Dayan rolled his hips. His lover shuddered and jerked his own hips more. “M-My heart, you tease me–” Halsin gasped, his voice husky and strained, muffled against Dayan’s length. His mouth opened more, tongue desperately lapping against Dayan’s cock to taste every inch he could reach. The ranger chuckled softly and gripped himself, rubbing his plush tip against Halsin’s lips.

“Do I?” he breathed as the druid groaned and tried to suckle, his prize pulled away too soon. Dayan felt Halsin arch below him, a flustered, frustrated growl rumbling. He petted through those loose brown locks soothingly. “Mmh patience, sunstone,” he admonished and then shifted completely off Halsin’s face, the druid lifting his head to try to chase after him with a hungry tongue.

He was rewarded for his eagerness moments later, however, as Dayan simply turned around and sat back down. He felt the tremble of Halsin’s moan, that huge body shuddering as the heat and pheromone-laden scent of Dayan’s hole filled his senses. Dayan sucked in a sharp breath, as that thick, hot tongue wasted no time; his back arched deep to shove himself further into Halsin’s face, even as he reached for the poor druid’s neglected cock.

His fingers wrapped around it as best they could and stroked, earning a muffled, muted huff of pleasure from the writhing wood elf below him. He got an extra hard grind for that. Dayan stroked more, his thumb rolling around that fat, plush cockhead, teasingly circling the rim of foreskin. Halsin bucked with a breathless growl, and Dayan laughed softly. “Keep going down there,” he called, slowing the pace of his hand. “Don’t get distracted, my sweet bear.”

As if to prove a point, that hot thick tongue expertly breached Dayan’s tight ring, lapping over the taut muscles with a hunger that made the drow bite back a cry of pleasure as his cock twitched, hard. He grunted and moved his hips, practically riding Halsin’s tongue as the druid rolled it into him, deeper and deeper.

Halsin’s cock was drooling almost as much as he was, Dayan noted with a grin; he strained forward to taste, tongue darting into the slit, causing a small earthquake of writhing below him.

He groaned in delight as he licked up every tasty drop, Halsin twitching both in his hand and between his thighs. He heard the telltale creaking of wrists twisting in vine-wrought binds, subconsciously seeking escape.

Dayan stroked a hand over the druid’s hip, caressing it. “Still good?” he murmured. There was a pause, then a finger snap. Dayan grinned and really started to grind against that beautiful face below him, Halsin’s surprised gasps and shuddering moans practically muffled to silence. Finally, he eased off, caressing Halsin’s shoulder as the druid’s hoarse pants for air warmed his thighs. “Easy, sunstone, breathe deep and slow,” he murmured, stroking back stray strands of hair from his face. Halsin’s mouth was gently swollen and flushed red, lips and cheeks slick with precum and drool. His pupils were blown out, the rim of green around them interspersed with flashes of gold. Even in his submission, the bear hungered.

Dayan loved it. He shifted backward and bent to kiss the wood elf, upside down and messily, tongue claiming the heat of his mouth. He pulled back to let Halsin breathe, the druid no doubt light-headed from having his nostrils plugged with Dayan’s balls. He stroked through his hair, cradling his face. “More?” he asked, lips curling slowly at the sheer need that twisted on Halsin’s face. The druid sucked in a breath and begged, voice raw and crackling. “More – more , my wolf, I need you – fuck me, please ! Silvanus give me strength, I cannot wait another moment–”

"You can and you will,” Dayan interrupted firmly, his hands gentle in Halsin’s hair. “There's plenty more to come.” Halsin growled in frustration and received a hard, biting kiss, Dayan shushing him lovingly. He licked softly over those bruised, swollen lips, then rose in one graceful motion and moved to straddle Halsin’s torso again, settling down across his chest. He gestured, squinting with concentration, as the Entangle spell shifted, sprouted more writhing vines that snaked up the tree behind them, wrapping around a branch and then downward towards Halsin. They curled around him, lifting the druid’s arms and upper shoulders from the ground. Head raising, Halsin blinked at him and shifted himself to get more comfortable. He nodded to Dayan, letting him know all was well in the new position. Dayan smirked as he carefully slid his shaft between the impressive rise of Halsin's pecs and gripped them tight, squeezing them together and starting to grind his hips. He glanced up to the elf's face and his lips curled wider to see the open-mouthed flush that stained his cheeks, much different than the instinct-driven arousal from before. Halsin's eyes darted off to the side, his expression no less than flustered, embarrassed enjoyment.

"Ohh, what's that look, my love?" Dayan purred, precum pooling over his lover's neck. He bent down and whispered low in a pink-tipped pointed ear, hips still sliding himself between his love's plush cleavage. "I think you must like it when I rut myself against you, eager for whatever friction I find to sate me, mmh?"

"Hhhh..." Halsin shuddered, arching up against the drow, his wrists twisting in the magicked binds. "I-I do. No one..offers such a thing..."

Dayan pressed a kiss to Halsin’s ear, his husky whisper warm with adoration and love. “I’ll use you any time you wish, my sun. You only need ask.” He moved to plant a warm, loving kiss on those panting lips, Halsin moaning into his mouth, spurring Dayan on; his hips snapped, grinding his cock into Halsin’s makeshift cleavage, seeking the warmth of his body. He could tell it was making the elf squirm with embarrassment in the most arousing way and he kissed him again deeply.

"Being so good for me," he murred against those kiss-swollen lips, tasting himself on them. “So good ~ gets you a reward.” He rose back up, planting his legs firmly.

"Lift your head more," he instructed, his hand moving to grip a fist in those sweat-dripped locks. "And open your mouth. Mmh, yes, just like that. Tongue out…” Dayan’s other hand moved to grip Halsin’s chin, thumb pushing into his maw and pulling it open more, stretching his lips wider. He smiled adoringly at the pretty sight of his love, flushed and needy. So undone, such a mess.

“That’s my sweet bear, so patient~."

And then he thrust.

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"Mmmh, tongue out more, my love. Drink down the taste you missed so much~"

Halsin gasped and groaned as Dayan's cockhead plunged past his open lips, raking across his tongue and spilling precum into his mouth, plunging into that warm heat and back out again, over and over. Halsin's tongue worked to lick up every drop frantically, rolling over Dayan's slit and plush tip every time it kissed his lips, again and again.

Dayan kept thrusting – deeper, past Halsin’s tongue now, and deeper, hitting the back of his throat. He heard the gagging and almost came, but managed to hold on until he could– “Nngh!! Fuck! So tight–” Dayan’s words cut off as his cock popped down Halsin’s throat, the druid jerking in his bonds as he fought his gag reflex. He choked around Dayan’s cock, gagged prettily, saliva drooling from his open mouth.

Dayan soothed fingers through those brown locks, even as he kept thrusting; Halsin held his breath and then sucked in air through his nose, sitting up more. He opened up his throat for the drow, who praised his lovely bear and curled a hand tighter in his hair. Dayan thrust, fucking Halsin’s throat now, loving the filthy noises it made, the loud suck echoing in the air. His hand instinctively went to cup the druid’s thick neck and feel his driving length shift beneath skin.

It didn’t take long. Halsin’s tongue working his hole deeply had done half the job and feeling his cock slide back and forth, bulging Halsin’s neck finished him. Dayan felt his balls tighten as he fucked into Halsin’s panting mouth and groaned low, guttural. Head dropping forward, eyes locked on the image in front of him, he gripped Halsin’s hair tighter, the druid’s tongue lolling out as he moaned huskily, his face flushed red. Dayan pulled out of Halsin’s throat and clutched his cock, pumping it with a low breathy moan until he felt that taut line snap – his hips jerked forward, cock twitching in his hand as thick cream spurted over Halsin’s waiting tongue. It coated his face, spattering in lines over his cheeks and nose and pooling into his mouth.

He swallowed and swallowed with shaking, pleased noises. Just before Dayan finished, he grabbed Halsin’s hair with both hands and yanked his mouth down on the drow’s pulsing shaft. He shoved himself deep down that narrow throat and finished there, Halsin’s swallows squeezing the last few spurts from him, filling the druid’s nose with the thick, heady musk of his scent.

With a low quaking groan, Dayan finally pulled out and sat back as Halsin sagged, panting softly. It took a moment for the drow to come back to himself, the fog of pleasure dissipating slowly; he found himself sitting back on Halsin’s chest, panting and shivering lightly, his cock still slightly twitching as it softened.

Halsin was breathing hard, swallowing spit and semen and trembling in his bonds, body drenched in sweat. His eyes had a haze over them and Dayan glanced behind him to see the druid’s cock still full and stiff, soaked shiny with pre and throbbing. He smiled softly and quickly climbed off the massive elf. Lying next to him, Dayan carefully directed the vines to drop Halsin’s arms slowly, his shoulders no doubt sore from the stretch of being held aloft by his wrists; they fell heavily over Dayan’s neck and he allowed the bindings to loosen and slither away. Halsin didn’t move his arms though, leaving them wrapped around the smaller elf as he sank down against him. His head tucked up against the hollow between Dayan’s neck and collarbone.

The drow wrapped his arm around those broad shoulders and Halsin instinctively curled up into him, despite the size difference; Dayan reached down for that throbbing, aching cock and started to stroke. Halsin began to protest, bleary eyes opening as he claimed Dayan didn’t need to finish him, the pleasure in serving was enough – but Dayan shushed him and just held him close.

He watched his love’s face as he deftly stroked him closer and closer to his own climax, Halsin gripping his arm as his silver wolf pulled him over the edge. It didn’t take long until Halsin clutched at him hard enough to bruise, shaking violently in Dayan’s arms as he shouted his name and painted them both with copious amounts of sticky seed. Dayan kept stroking through the orgasm, slowing with Halsin’s heartbeats until he stopped, the druid giving one final full body shudder before stilling. Dayan lifted his hand to his mouth and licked it clean, groaning at the taste of his lover, and then wrapped both his arms around the druid and just held him for a long while, gently combing fingers through his hair over and over. He cast what little healing magic he had, just to make any soreness fade; Halsin sighed and nuzzled his neck in thanks, kissing it gently before getting comfortable again for a little while longer. Finally, calmed and comforted, Halsin sat up slowly with a soft little groan, rubbing at his still-slick mouth. He came back with a handful of sticky drool and made a face as he laughed quietly. His voice was still slightly hoarse. “You did make a mess out of me, didn’t you?” “I keep my promises,” Dayan smirked, plucking a fat leaf off one of the nearby plants. He folded it into a large makeshift cup and offered it to Halsin. The druid accepted it gratefully, conjuring it full of water and drank his fill, then another full cup after that. He did the same for Dayan, who then sated his own thirst. “I admit, I thought you’d planned to…well, do something slightly different,” Halsin said and Dayan laughed softly, cupping the druid’s still slightly-flushed cheek. “Oh, I still plan to, no need to call it a night yet. If you’re desiring more, that is.”

Halsin chuckled low and nodded, his hand raising to press against Dayan’s. “Always, my heart. I can never have enough of your touch.”

Dayan smiled, relieved to hear it. “Might need your help.” He looked at Halsin with a teasing little smile. “If you can spare a restoration spell…or two~” Halsin blinked and then laughed, having to take a moment before he collected himself. “Ah, of course, my proud wolf. Of course. Can’t have you ravish me with a flagging spirit, can we?” He cast the spell, both of them bathed in a calming green light briefly. Dayan sighed, feeling awake and ready for a second or third round. “I don’t want anything flagging, thank you,” Dayan grinned and shifted to his knees. “But I do have a surprise for you.” “Oh…?” Halsin asked with a teasing smile playing around his lips and settled back in a small sloped patch of grass, watching Dayan with interest. “Yes. I don’t know if this is going to work exactly like I want, but I’ve been practicing and – well, let’s just see,” he muttered mysteriously and shifted to sit on his heels. He lifted his hands, gesturing a little while mumbling words under his breath, as his hands started to glow. Whatever he was casting surged up his arms and over his body, making it shine faintly, then more and more strongly, until Halsin’s eyes widened as he realized what Dayan was trying to cast. “My heart, is that – are you casting polym–” But before Dayan could answer, his body jerked back violently as his whole form alighted, the shape of him flickering strangely; Halsin sucked in a breath, brows furrowed in slight worry as the spell seemed to struggle somewhat. But then with a slight flare of light, it stilled and Dayan fell forward onto his hands and knees, breathing harshly.

“Hhhh…” The drow’s head was down, hair falling over his face as his splayed fingers curled and dragged through the grass. Each finger was tipped with a dark claw, almost like a tiefling’s, but black and slightly more curved and narrow. There was shaggy silvery-gray fur now over his shoulders, elbows and knees, and fluffed on his chest between his pecs.

He lifted his head and Halsin felt a thrill surge through him to see those gentle violet eyes had turned as yellow as a harvest moon, bright and gleaming. Dayan smiled and his teeth were sharp. And – likely not intended but still, striking – the drow had traded his elf ears for two tall proud wolf ears, tipped with black, and a thick tail that whipped almost challengingly. Halsin stared for a shocked, silent beat and then took a shuddering breath. Dayan stalked towards his lover on hands and knees, his smile curling wide to show those sharp, long wolf fangs.

As he crawled onto Halsin’s lap, straddling him, the druid’s eyes widened as he felt something hard press against his stomach – thicker and longer than it had been before, with a very tell-tale bulge at the base. Halsin’s eyes flashed gold and he groaned a low, rumbling sound, his hands grabbing onto Dayan’s hips as the drow started bathing his neck with a long, flat tongue. “Ooohhh fuck , Oakfather preserve me…”

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

"Soo...you haven't...mmmhh said what you think."

There was a smile, a flash of fangs in the moonlight, and dark claws dragged slowly across a muscular back.

"Hhhaah..."

"Ah, good things, then."

"Hhhnn....g-good things, yes. Very good things, my hh--hah--!"

Dayan gave a low throaty chuckle and leaned back on Halsin's lap, withdrawing his clawed nails from the druid's back. He lifted a hand to his mouth and dragged his tongue over the edge of one, tasting copper. Halsin stared, lost in the sight of it.

"You should keep the marks," the drow continued. "I want to be reminded of tonight for awhile yet, when we're in our bedroll." His voice was huskier than usual and it was doing things to the poor wood elf. Even with the restoration spell he was surprised at how quickly heat pooled in his groin and his flaccid length stirred just from Dayan talking to him.

Though, of course, the tongue on his neck, and the teeth and claws in his skin helped.

"Con...Consider it done..." It was hard for Halsin to answer, Dayan's hips hadn't stopped their slow, torturous roll since he straddled his thighs; his rock-hard prick was grinding distractingly into the druid's soft stomach, smearing stickiness across his skin. The stammer earned another low laugh and Dayan leaned into Halsin, to run his tongue languidly over the slowly-seeping bite marks he'd already left in the crook where neck meets shoulder.

After he'd left the druid thoroughly shivering, skin prickled with goosebumps, he pressed lips to his neck, murmuring.

"It's not silly...? I didn't mean to include...these particular additions," he sat up, gesturing to indicate the ears perched atop his head and the tail, with a crinkled-nose frown.

Halsin bit his bottom lip, considering his words.

"Not silly," he emphasized and then chuckled softly. "But...I can't deny, my heart. It is cute." At Dayan's look he held up his hands in surrender.

"Cute and...! Well. Rather arousing. Or is this not evidence enough?" He slid his hands back down to Dayan's hips and pulled him closer, so he could feel his length press against the druid's nearly-full erection. Dayan groaned low and rolled his hips again, earning a huff from his love. He leaned in flush against the bigger elf, his lips brushing the other's.

"You just like the fangs," he rasped with a grin, and kissed Halsin hard, that tongue licking between the druid's lips and over his teeth before pushing into his mouth.

The claws lightly traced down the back of his neck, down his spine, and then dug into his lower back and raked their way back up. Halsin arched, hissing as the pain shot pleasure through his limbs and groin. The burning chased after, endorphins making him almost woozy as he clung to Dayan, moans edged with the softest whine.

Dayan pulled back and slid his tongue down Halsin's jaw to the other side of his neck to lavish it with attention now. "Such pretty noises and I've barely started, besides..."

"So cruel to tease an old elf," Halsin groaned and Dayan actually sat up and laughed, showing off all his sharp teeth and making Halsin's cock twitch at the sight.

"Hahah! Who do you think you're talking to?" He grinned, cupping Halsin's face and planting a kiss on his nose. "Shall I call you Elder now, oh venerated one? What are these fine lines at the corners of my eyes and mouth, I wonder~"

"Beautiful. Perfect." Halsin said simply, his eyes soft as he gazed at Dayan. "Nothing more and nothing less."

Dayan blinked, at a loss for words; lips parted and cheeks warming. He puffed out a breath and in a sudden lurch buried his face in the right crook of Halsin's neck, tongue hot against the skin. A hand gripped in his ruddy brown locks and pulled as wolf teeth sank deep.

Halsin gasped and dug his nails into Dayan's hips, his mouth dropping open with a cry as his silver wolf marked and claimed him fiercely, sealing it with a bloody kiss.

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

"Gods, my love -- you taste so much better. You smell so much better..." Dayan's voice was nearly a growl now, his lips pressed to Halsin's ear as he actively ground himself against the druid's thick full cock, a hand spanning them both to hold them together, slickened with his own spit and the shared mix of their precum.

Halsin was lying back against the gentle grassy slope, writhing beneath the polymorphed drow. His skin was criss-crossed with claw marks, some only red scratches and others harsh lines of torn skin, seeping lazily. The rest of his body held sharp bites, circles of stinging red dotted from Halsin's neck to his hips.

The druid's eyes were practically rolled back in his skull with such a heady mix of pain and pleasure constantly surging through him.

Dayan moved his head down to place another, biting a ring around Halsin's left nipple that made the druid jolt, quivering as Dayan's tongue flicked the pert bud trapped between his teeth.

"D-Dayan...by all the Gods, please, I-I...I am going to go mad without you inside me--"

"Is this what it feels like for you?" the drow groaned, ignoring the sweet plea while he suckled that nipple until it tingled. He felt a gush of liquid pour over his fingertips from Halsin's throbbing cock and smirked, nipping his skin once before sitting up.

He eyed Halsin's face, noting his eyes were almost entirely glimmering gold now. He saw his teeth seemed sharper; he glanced down and exhaled a hard breath to see the pulsing cock had a little extra addition at its base, swollen and tender. A shiver of arousal went through the drow and he hummed, leaning to kiss him deeply.

"Hold back the bear, beloved...but I can take the claws and teeth. Do you like how I feel against you, like this?" He thrust into Halsin more, that round knot at the base of his thicker cock grinding against the druid’s own.

"Ye-e-e-eesss..." Halsin answered, a guttural growl of a sound, his eyes flashing. Dayan returned the growl as he sat up, the timbre different; they complimented each other, he thought. He gripped their cocks with both hands and stroked them together, frotting almost viciously.

Halsin bucked up into his hands, heaving short sharp breaths; his knees lifted, toes digging into the grass. “Silvanus preserve me,” he panted, glitters of gold light sparking down his body like a cresting wave. “My wolf, I’m not – I-I can’t–”

“Shhhh, shh shh shh…” Dayan’s ears flicked forward as his right hand cupped Halsin’s jaw, the left squeezing his cock at the base, above the new knot. He leaned in close, murmuring against those parted, wet lips. “Breathe, beloved…” He felt Halsin’s now-sharp nails dig into the soft meat of his ass, and traced a thumb over a bottom lip, then dipped inside and touched a fanged tooth, bringing forth the lightest pinprick. Halsin groaned at the sudden scent of blood.

With a gentle grin, Dayan slid his fingers to the back of the druid’s head and gripped his hair, pushing his head into the crook of his neck.

“Bite. Soothe the beast with heat and blood,” he murred and tensed in anticipation. He could feel Halsin fight against it and tightened his fingers, tugging sharply on his hair. His voice was a growling rasp, an order.

”Bite.”

And Halsin did.

The pain was intense, but Dayan had felt much worse, and hardly with the heat of his lover’s body against him and his throbbing cock in hand. He gritted his teeth, sucking in a painful quivering breath, Halsin’s nails cutting into his skin as the druid gripped his hips tight.

The growl that escaped Halsin’s throat made Dayan’s eyelids flutter and he shook with a husky groan more animal than man, lost in blissful agony. Halsin’s cock leaked down his shaft, coating Dayan’s fingers and he lifted them to his mouth, sucking each clean in turn, lost in the scent of him, his sweat and musk, in the scent of blood.

“D-Don’t…bite off a chunk,” he laughed breathlessly and Halsin moaned, seeming to shake himself and eased off. His tongue lapped at Dayan’s bloody shoulder and his strong arms slid around the ranger, fingers curling in the fur that now lined them.

“I’m sorry my heart,” he breathed, touching Dayan’s shoulder with a glowing hand. The drow felt healing magic start to knit him together. “Thank you, thank you…”

“Not too much,” Dayan panted, letting go of Halsin’s hair to touch his hand with fingertips. “Leave enough to scar.” He laughed again, giddy and lightheaded and pulled back, cradling Halsin’s crimson-streaked jaw between hands. His lips and entire chin were coated in Dayan’s blood and he thought it was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. He kissed him, deeply, tasting his own copper and wondered if this is how Astarion felt when Dayan shared himself.

He pulled back, still looking into those lustful eyes, the gold sparks calmed now. "May I bind you again?" he asked reverently and rewarded Halsin with hungry kisses when he nodded his assent. Halsin returned them with a desperation Dayan wasn't sure he'd ever felt from the druid. Open mouthed and panting, tongue lolling, begging softly between for his love to use him, break him, make him his.

Those familiar ropes of green slithered up and over Halsin's strong powerful limbs, wrapping around them in a way that was both practical and lovely to look at, as Dayan backed away. The vines -- strong and strewn with leaves and flowering honeysuckle -- tied themselves across his body, knotting at certain points, criss-crossing at others.

They wrapped around his throat, his chest, binding his wrists and arms together, wound over his cock, between his legs and around them, tying thigh and calf. Halsin moaned at every motion, the tendrils not soft enough to avoid scraping the claw and bite marks and making them burn deliciously.

The final flourish covered his eyes like a pretty blindfold and he writhed, turning his head with a shuddering breath.

"Still good?" Dayan whispered in his ear and Halsin nodded, pressing his face to nuzzle into Dayan's hair needily.

The drow backed up to look his fairly mentally-taxing handiwork over, Halsin panting softly, turning his head to follow his sounds. The sight was exquisite; all that power and strength given over to vulnerability and trust. Dayan slid his hands over the druid's thighs.

"Dark Dancer save me, you're so godsdamned beautiful Halsin," he whispered and bent to kiss a trail down his inner thighs, between each binding tendril, his hand lightly stroking the poor elf's trapped cock. His love only moaned, bending upward into his touch, gasping and shuddering with each sharp bite and suckle over his inner thighs.

Dayan huffed a hard breath as he pressed his face between the elf's legs, his scent making a hungry growl rumble in the back of the drow's throat. Halsin's cock pulsed under his hand, only held back from release by the vines holding him in pleasure. Dayan shifted some of them to free his heavy balls, burying his face in them and breathing that intoxicating scent, musk and woodsmoke and sweat; he suckled on them and tasted salt and river water.

Halsin groaned somewhere far above and Dayan felt like he might not be able to wait much longer himself, his cock aching and twitching between his thighs as he rolled his tongue down to press against that tight ring of muscle. He delved into it, the heat inside so much hotter it almost burned.

Saliva dribbled down the druid's ass, the drow's tongue breaching his hole and pushing inside, rolling and tasting and making that channel slick. His claws scraped lightly at sensitive skin, making Halsin jerk with a gasp and shiver, tense up just enough to squeeze.

Dayan panted as he spread thumbs on either side of that trembling ring and stretched it wide, pressing his face into it and started tongue-fucking the druid. Deeper and deeper -- much more than he could get with his usual appendage. What a thrill it was, too.

Halsin writhed even more wildly, making Dayan have to hold him down to properly reach deep, until he felt a familiar nub with the tip of his tongue. He pressed it, rubbed firmly back and forth and got the reaction he desired. Halsin wailed, bucking so hard he nearly pushed Dayan off him as he cursed -- Dayan assumed -- in a druidic language the ranger didn't know. His cock jerked, flushed dark red and trembling, weeping clear syrup over his bound stomach, aching to come but unable.

He reached up to feel that thick meat twitching beneath the vines and moved them aside to free it and stroke, managing to angle himself so he could keep grinding that hot wet muscle into Halsin's prostate.

But before Halsin could climax a second time, Dayan pulled back and rose over him, gesturing the vines away from his eyes. Halsin looked up, cheeks and ears flushed pink, the color crawling down his neck. Once more fully blown out, those pretty eyes stared up at the drow, brow crinkled in lust and desire and need.

"...Please..." Halsin said, his voice breaking in a near-sob and something in Dayan sparked, lit aflame -- he hefted those tree-trunk thighs up, vines tying them neatly to the rest of the bindings so his love could relax, let himself lie there and take what he was given. Halsin's head lolled to the side, his loosened hair falling prettily across his face as he watched his silver wolf finally press up against his plump round ass, cock in hand.

Dayan glanced down only once, to aim the tip at Halsin's spit-soaked entrance and push it in slowly with a thumb; his eyes lifted to remain locked on his sweet bear's wanton, needy expression. That alone was nearly enough to make him falter and thrust too deep too soon, but he managed to hold it together. Dayan was much bigger than usual, almost Halsin’s size and he wanted to be careful; the druid’s innards squeezed him tight enough as they parted to take it all, slow but firm.

His fangs closed over his bottom lip, lower eyelids twitching at the sensation of sinking into that searing heat, Halsin's eager hole practically sucking him in. Lips parted as he watched Halsin's face contorted in pleasure; watched his mouth drop open slowly, brows furrowing over eyes squeezed shut. His back arched fully off the ground, the druid crying out a long shaking sound of ecstacy.

Dayan felt like the wolf more than ever; he pressed closer, leaning over Halsin, his ears back and teeth bared – finally, finally, burying himself in his love to the hilt – or, almost to the hilt, his knot nudging into that stretched rim like a promise. He pressed harder, seeking more of that warmth, toes scraping the grass, until Halsin’s head fell back and he whimpered, eyes wet with intensity. Only then did Dayan pull back, til only the tip remained. He exhaled a growl and with a gesture – Halsin’s cock was freed from the binding and Dayan thrust.

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

The cry that his lover gave echoed across the river, Halsin climaxing immediately at the first powerful slam inside him. Dayan snapped his hips hard against the druid’s body, fucking him through his intense orgasm, the vines creaking as Halsin tested the bonds with his violent contortions, his cock pulsing again and again as he painted his chest and stomach with thick jets of seed. Whatever control Halsin had clung to during Dayan’s unending teasing snapped and he sobbed his pleasure to the stars, voice crying the drow’s name with abandon.

Dayan’s grin was feral as he grabbed the vines and pulled Halsin to him for a heavy kiss, his love’s moan swallowed by mouth and tongue as he finished. The druid’s body collapsed against him, quaking at the sensation of being taken so deeply, sensitive and tender from such an intense orgasm.

Dayan grabbed Halsin’s hips and held him steady, the druid’s head leaning on his shoulder, while he thrust harder and deeper, making the massive elf jolt with each pound of his narrow pelvis. He kissed Halsin’s jaw and neck and bit him gently, earning a hoarse, crackling groan.

“You still have a request, my love,” he growled in his ear, sucking the lobe and earning a shaking noise of pleasure. “Anything you want – anything. I’ll even switch places, or stop if you’re sated–”

“No – don’t stop! Don’t stop,” Halsin moaned quickly, his face burying into Dayan’s neck. “J-Just – let me hold you, please, please, my heart, my wolf, I need to hold you–”

No other words were needed – the vines came undone in a heartbeat, Halsin nearly falling atop Dayan as he was suddenly released, his limbs trembling from the strain they’d been under. But true to his word, as soon as he was freed his legs hooked around those pumping hips and his arms wrapped tight around the drow’s shoulders. His face was still crushed against the spot he’d bit, his panting breaths muffled into the drow’s shoulder.

Dayan balanced himself on his hands, his movements smoother and less jolting, breath coming in grunts and ragged gasps. After a minute he slid his arms around the larger elf and held him just as tight, kissing wherever his lips could reach.

He felt something poking into his abdomen and realized Halsin was getting hard again; he grinned and angled his hips so he could rub his body against it, pleased when a shudder made the druid twitch underneath him, his clawed fingernails dragging over Dayan’s shoulders and making him hiss in pleasure. His head bowed, lips pressing a kiss to Halsin’s chest, his nipples, his neck.

“Gods, you’re like an aphrodisiac,” he mumbled into Halsin’s collarbone. “I can’t get enough~”

With a grunt he suddenly rolled over, pulling Halsin so the druid was atop him, his legs straddling his hips now. Halsin gasped and then cried out as his weight brought him back down on Dayan’s thick shaft heavily, the drow catching him before he took more than he wanted. He kissed him again and again in apology, shifting his shoulders so Halsin could wrap him back up in those thick arms.

Lifting his knees and bracing his heels in the dirt, Dayan pumped a little faster, his brows furrowed as he felt himself getting closer and closer to that plateau. Halsin pushed himself up on his palms to hover over Dayan, look down at him, their eyes lost in one another a moment. Dayan lifted a hand, cupped Halsin’s cheek, the druid tilting into it and drawing his thumb into his mouth.

“Do you want to…” Dayan paused, hesitating, and then grinned, cheeks flushing a little darker. “Do you want to take it…?” he asked quietly, biting his bottom lip, a fang poking over. Halsin melted at the sight and nodded, eyes closing as he sucked on Dayan’s thumb and bit it gently.

”Please,” he rumbled, looking down…and Dayan was struck mute by the sight.

Halsin’s hair hung wild, falling over half his face, strands stuck to his forehead and cheeks with the sweat that dripped down his temple and dotted his forehead. His cheeks were flushed beautifully, reddened to the tips of his ears and down his neck, lips bite-bruised and swollen, parted and soft.

And those eyes…shining wet, red-rimmed and hazy, pupils big enough they looked dark in the moonlight; he looked at Dayan with such naked, tender vulnerability the drow’s chest tightened and he suddenly felt incredibly protective.

“Come here,” he said suddenly, reaching for Halsin’s shoulders and drawing him back down, wrapping one arm tight around him and the other slipping between their bodies to grip his hard cock and stroke it in time with the deep rocking pace of his hips. Halsin moved as well, rolling back on Dayan’s cock to meet his thrusts, rim pressing more and more onto that thick knot with every motion. Dayan could feel himself cresting, stroking faster as Halsin clung tightly to him, eyes widening with surprise at how quickly the drow’s touch was bringing him to his pleasure.

Dayan shifted his hand to Halsin’s jaw, thumb pressing lightly on his lip, groaning as that pretty mouth fell open, fangs glinting. He wondered if his own were as attractive; his fist pumped faster and Halsin suddenly gripped his shoulders painfully tight.

“Dayan! I’m–!!”

Whatever words he meant to say were swallowed by the shout that exploded from his open mouth, the druid’s body jerking as his cock pulsed in Dayan’s hand, spurting another heavy load; his ass tightened hard and Dayan’s breath caught in his throat, his back arching as he struggled to thrust through the rhythmic squeezing of Halsin’s intense orgasm. His fingers slipped from Halsin’s cheek and he slapped his hand on his ass, grabbing it and squeezing tight; he jerked his hips hard, arched deep and held himself inside with trembling thighs, cresting his climax right alongside his lover’s.

Pleasure-filled cries spilled from Dayan’s lips as his aching cock pumped jet after jet of hot seed deep in the druid’s guts; his eyes squeezed open, meeting Halsin’s own and he lifted his head and bit his neck again, marking him a third time. Halsin moaned happily, spreading his legs wider, eagerly. Dayan growled more, dug his nails into the larger male’s ass – and thrust.

Halsin cried out til his voice broke, as his silver wolf knotted him, the sudden stretch and fullness making him orgasm a second time, dry but shaking; electricity shooting through him from groin to toes and fingertips. He sucked in a shuddering breath and collapsed, his body trembling with aftershocks for several minutes afterwards.

“...I love you,” Dayan rasped as he held the druid tightly, taking deep slow breaths to quell his pounding chest. . “And I, you; my heart, my brave silver wolf.” Halsin smiled in bliss. He was so full. He could feel his channel gently swollen with Dayan’s seed and knot both, making him shiver every time he shifted gently. He decided not to move, content to lie there and feel his wolf inside him as long as he could. Arms the color of the sky before a storm wound around him and his chest rumbled like a happy bear in the sun.

Limbs relaxed as Halsin sank into his love’s embrace, both of them resting into the grass, eyes closed and foreheads pressed together. Dayan’s fingers eventually found his hair, twining in it to stroke gently. The only sound accompanying their reverie was the gentle breeze through the trees, a harmony to their gently panting, satisfied breaths.

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

“Halsin…sweet lover mine~”

“Mmmhhhh…?”

“I think I can pull out now…want me to try?”

“Hrrrfh.”

Dayan could feel Halsin’s huff against his chest, his face nested in the new soft fur that tufted over it, eyes closed with contentment. He chuckled quietly and gently poked the elf’s pointed ear.

“Hey lazy bear, I’m thirsty, geddoff me.”

“Comfy,” came the answering grumble, Halsin’s face pointedly turning into Dayan’s chest more.

The drow stared up at the stars, his arms splayed beside him in the grass. “So this is how it ends for me, trapped beneath a druid I fucked into hibernation.” He sighed dramatically. “I accept my fate with open arms. May Lady Silverhair sing my lifesong~”

Halsin opened one sulky eye and sighed heavily at the melodramatic speech, pushing himself up to sit on Dayan’s hips. “Who’s learning bad habits from our little star, now?” he grumbled to himself, rubbing his eyes and stretching. The drow watched, endeared by how much Halsin really acted like a grumpy bear when he was forced to move from a favorite spot.

Pushing himself up to a sitting position, he shifted a little and felt his length slide free, fully flaccid now, though he – a little worryingly – hadn’t yet changed back to a plain drow. He mused on that as Halsin exhaled, a shiver running through him at the sensation, and moved to plop beside Dayan in the grass.

“Did you get the catharsis you hoped for tonight?” Halsin asked softly as he lounged back and basked in the soreness given to him by his lover.

“I think so. I certainly feel more relaxed,” Dayan laughed. “And it was nice to…know what to do, for once. Know what worked. I think I worry too much whether I can make the right decisions. Deciding whether a grove should be ransacked by goblins is easy,” he murmured, eyes cast down. “But we’re going into the lion’s den and I don’t know what to do. Everyone’s counting on me and I’m lost.”

“My heart,” Halsin leaned in, took one of Dayan’s hands and brought it to his lips. “You’re not alone in this, I promise you. We are all of us all counting on each other.” His voice lowered and he leaned in. “For as long as I’ve known you – you’ve only ever tried to do what you thought was right. Often at some great cost to yourself.” He paused and smiled, bittersweet. “I know that firsthand.”

Dayan’s brows crinkled. “Halsin…”

A finger to his lips. “Shush. Water under the bridge, as you say. But listen now. I speak only the truth.” He tapped Dayan’s chest. “Your heart is the strongest lodestone I know. Follow it, beloved. And I’ll follow you. I will be by your side, always.”

Dayan didn’t trust himself to speak. He just nodded and leaned up to kiss his honey-sweet bear so he wouldn’t see wetness at the corner of his eyes.

His head lowered, pressing against Halsin’s shoulder a moment; his eyes fell on the druid’s chest and he blinked, lifting his head with a wince. Reaching out, the ranger ran fingertips over all the bite and claw marks that covered the elf, all the wounds he left on Halsin’s skin.

“Too tired to heal these away?” he asked, a little worriedly. “Are you all right? I hope I wasn’t too rough…”

“Not at all, my heart. It was perfect, every moment,” Halsin reassured him, then paused and laughed a bit sheepishly, touching the bite marks around his left nipple with gentle fingertips. “I did just a cursory healing for us both, to avoid infection, but I, ah…I want them to stay for a bit. Like you wanted yours…I want to be reminded of tonight when we’re together in our bedroll,” he grinned at Dayan, echoing his earlier words.

He noticed Halsin’s teeth seemed to be back to normal and ran his tongue over his own, frowning a bit.

“Halsin! Your jerkin won’t cover half of those, everyone’s going to think I mauled you,” Dayan fretted, though his cheeks warmed at the thought of walking in there with the druid, proudly showing off his handiwork. Halsin smirked, leaning on his hand to whisper in Dayan’s ear, his voice a husky purr.

“Let them.”

“You are incorrigible. Thank the gods,” Dayan smiled and tilted his head to catch the elf’s mouth in a kiss, soft and tender, lasting until they both had to pull away for air, chuckling together at still being so hungry for each other’s lips. He leaned back in the grass as Halsin searched for the abandoned leaf cup, filling it up to slake his thirst after all their very energetic activity, and basked in the glow of the stars.

“I notice the polymorph hasn’t worn off. Not that I mind you still being my handsome silver wolf,” Halsin mused, filling the cup again and offering it to Dayan. The drow accepted it gratefully and sat up to drain the cup, wiping his mouth after and holding it back out for a refill. Halsin obliged with a smile and then started to work a little more healing magic into his sore body.

Just a little. The aches and tenderness were part of the experience, after all.

“It has not,” Dayan agreed and grimaced, staring down at the water. “In truth, um…Gale made this spell for me, it’s something he created himself. I asked him for his help…” Dayan coughed. “I may have neglected to also ask how long it’s supposed to work.” He took a sip of water and sighed, his ears flattening with his realization.

Halsin had to suppress the urge to reach out and scratch one of them. Dayan probably didn’t even realize he’s doing that, he thought. Nor how adorable it looks.

“Knowing him…everyone’s going to wake up to a sight tomorrow much more surprising than a few bite marks.” He groaned and flopped back in the grass. “Astarion is going to have a fit, I will never live this down.”

“You asked for Gale’s help?” Halsin repeated in surprise, looking down at the other with raised brows. “I – this was rather spontaneous tonight, was it not? I hadn’t even planned to follow you until I saw you take your weapons, surely you didn’t intend–”

“Oh no, no this wasn’t planned,” Dayan said quickly, holding up his hands. “I mean – this wasn’t,” he touched a row of claw marks on Halsin’s hip, unable to keep from grinning a little at the sight. He was rather proud of them, he couldn’t deny it. Maybe that was more of the wolf. “My desire tonight was all your fault, sunstone.” He smiled at that but Halsin pressed.

“But this spell was something planned…? I’m sorry to keep on it, I’m just curious. You’ve said before that you don’t enjoy shapechanging.”

“I don’t enjoy having to disguise myself with magic just to safely exist topside,” Dayan clarified softly. “I didn’t go into it. But that’s what I really meant.”

Halsin’s brow furrowed and he scooted over to Dayan, lying down on his side next to him so they faced one another. He lifted a hand to the drow’s cheek, and Dayan smiled, his own hand cupping Halsin’s, an instinctive motion.

“My apologies, my heart. I didn’t intend to make you think of such things. Nor that you felt you couldn’t tell me the specifics. I know why, and while we’ve already had that discussion – I’m sorry, still.”

Dayan squeezed his hand, but didn’t speak on it; like Halsin said, they’d already talked about that, and a great many other things besides on the particular topic of Dayan’s heritage. Water under the bridge. “It’s all right,” he said softly. “But as to this spell…I asked Gale to help me do something like it because I…well, I wanted to know what it was like, for you,” he murmured softly, feeling a little embarrassed about it.

“For me?” Halsin blinked.

Dayan slid closer to the druid, his hand moving to Halsin’s chest, over his heart. “Your bear is a part of you, in every way it can be. That feeling of connection to it, that wild free thing that comes out in you. I just. I wanted to know what it was like,” his eyes, still as golden yellow as the sun, flicked up to meet Halsin’s.

“It’s such an important part of who you are, I wanted to share in it with you.”

The druid exhaled a breath and pulled Dayan to him, lips pressed to the drow’s forehead. He pulled back and chuckled low, his voice slightly thick with emotion. “You do not have to go to such lengths to share the wild freedom of nature with me, beloved. You already have, every moment we’re together. I feel it in you. When we run through the forest on a hunt together or share a night under the stars, or when I watch you chat with Scratch. And every other creature you come across,” he teased. “You would welcome an entire pack of four-legged friends if you could.” He paused and then hummed, considering. “Or include them in the pack you already have, perhaps.”

“Pfft!” Dayan scoffed, his cheeks warm, about to deny such a thing. Then paused himself, thinking, and gave a small soft laugh. “Aye, I suppose that’s true enough.” He grinned a little. “Still, not quite the same as knowing what it’s like.”

“And now that you do?” Halsin asked, his finger tracing Dayan’s bottom lip and then over his fangs..

Dayan tilted his head. “It’s – an experience.” He paused and then grinned, dipping his head. “All right, I love it. I’ll miss it when it fades, but perhaps this should be saved for special, rare occasions.” He shot Halsin a smirk. “The instinct is a bit hard to tamp down. Now I understand that night by the river a lot better.”

Halsin groaned and dropped his head against Dayan’s shoulder, making the drow laugh. “I can only hope the time comes when you don’t remember to tease me about that once a tenday.”

“With my memory? Undoubtedly,” Dayan snarked and then stretched deeply and rolled onto his back.

“Come, sta kha’sik. Let’s lie here a little longer before we have to return. I want to watch the sunrise with you, while we can still see it like nature intends.” He grinned and Halsin snorted, curling up against his side, his head tucked into Dayan’s hair, his arm stretched across him.

Unable to resist any longer, he lifted his hand and scratched one of those black-tipped ears. Dayan surprised himself with the happy whine that left his throat – he blinked, glancing at Halsin, his face warm; the druid was smiling ear to pointed ear with practically sparkling eyes.

Dayan gave a deep, long put-upon sigh – but he was smiling too. He gave in and nodded, settling down to let his bear pet him all he wished, while they waited for the sun to rise.

(It did feel rather nice, after all.)

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #halsin #halsin silverbough #bg3 tav #bg3 halsin #sub halsin #d/s dynamic #smut fic #I CAN'T BELIEVE I FINISHED IT I'M SO HAPPY

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roselensedeyes · 9 months

Text

Of tea and dreams

Hello everyone!

I hope August has been treating you well :) I'm sharing with you another elriel fic, this time we meet a special character...

You can find it on AO3 here.

CW: explicit language, NSFW

Word count: 5k

Enjoy!

Elain Archeron took a sip of her tea, frowning when she found it still too hot to drink. She placed it down on its plate. She again admired how finely it was made, the white porcelain delicately decorated with vines and irises. She wondered how much it must have cost, to afford such a marvelous tea set.

Her memories of her childhood, when her mother had still been alive and her family bathed in her father’s riches, were blurry. She had flashes of certain events, balls thrown in her or her sisters’ honor. What she could recall distinctly, however, was how she felt in those moments. She could remember feeling happy when she tended to her garden, her beautiful flowers could have passed for a painting her younger sister Feyre painted. She recalled attending balls with her sisters and their mother, watching her older sister Nesta dance with such mastery that made it seem easy. She could remember giggling with her friends when the guy she liked noticed her and told her she was pretty.

And then their wealth was taken away with vanished ships and her father’s broken leg.

Even though she wasn’t living in poverty anymore, Elain couldn’t shake off the memories of those years, the hunger and the cold. After Feyre had welcomed her and Nesta in her and her mate, the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand’s manor, she had begun to learn how to grow vegetables and fruit, as well as to bake and even a little cooking. She was terrified of waking up and realizing it had all been a dream, and she was still living in that freezing cottage, with little food and even less money.

Elain was reflecting on that as she was sipping her tea with Bethane, the elder Fae whose garden she tended to. Bethane had fast become her friend in the months since she first started helping her, despite their differences. The first being their age.

Yet that had not mattered, not at all, when they had much more things in common, like their passion for flowers, sweets, and tea. That they were both seers had helped them become even closer.

After being thrown into the Cauldron, it was revealed that Elain was a seer, had the ability to see the present as well as the future. Initially, she’d refused to acknowledge the truth, but soon realized that her power was needed for the ongoing war. So she’d sucked it up, and did as she was asked. After the war was over, though, she’d ignored the brief and confusing visions she’d at times get, and tried to live the normal life she always dreamed of having.

“You’re quiet today, Elain,” Bethane observed, her dark eyebrows slightly raised. Bethane was supposedly an elderly citizen, yet you couldn’t tell from her appearance. Her honeyed-colored skin was smooth, no wrinkles in sight, while her chestnut brown hair barely had any gray in it.

“I’m only tired. I couldn’t fall asleep last night,” Elain admitted.

“Did someone keep you company?” Bethane subtly asked, her eyes turning inquisitive.

Elain blushed deeply. Even after two years of living among the Fae, she still hadn’t gotten used to some of their customs, or quirks. Like their nonchalance regarding sex. Elain was no virgin, yet still she found she couldn’t discuss sex as freely as the Fae and her sisters did. She knew everyone thought her a prude, but she could still remember the teachings her mother and grandmother had instilled in her, and she couldn’t ignore them. For so long she had believed her discipline would ensure she’d find a good man who would protect her and make sure she’d live a happy life. Now, although she knew it wasn’t the truth, she found herself unable to break free from those teachings.

“Ah, well… No.” She paused, trying to find the right words. “I was thinking about someone, though.”

Bethane threw her a curious look. “Do tell.”

Elain felt her cheeks get even warmer. “Well, I’m afraid it’s not a story you will like. He broke my heart,” she said, quietly.

A protective look shone on Bethane’s face. “What fool would dare do that to you?” She asked, before adding, “Apart from your human man. Are you still thinking about him?” She sounded offended.

Elain gave a small chuckle. “No, I’m not. Someone else, a Fae male, did. Pathetic, isn’t it,” She admitted with a self-deprecating laugh.

Bethane shook her head fiercely. “You’re not, stop that. He’s a fool, he has no idea who he let go.” She reached forward and grabbed her hand. “Don’t wallow in self-pity, dear. You’re beautiful, but more than that you’re smart, and you’re kind. If a male can’t see that, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

Elain’s heart squeezed at her kind words. She’d always been called beautiful, since she was a child. She’d never been told her other qualities were more important than that, though.

She smiled gratefully at Bethane, inclining her head.

“Anyway, if you want a good male then you should go out with my son,” Bethane continued. Elain huffed out a laugh. The older female had been trying to set the two up since their first meeting. Too bad Elain had set her eyes on a hazel-eyed male, who, apparently, did not share her feelings.

It had been five months since that almost kiss with Azriel, the Illyrian Fae who had stolen her heart and crushed it with just a few words. She’d never told Bethane that she had fallen for Rhysand’s Spymaster. He was renowned, not only in the Night Court, but in the rest of Prythian, too. She knew Bethane had heard of him at least, so she’d never revealed her infatuation. Hadn’t told her about that fateful Winter Solstice night, either.

“He’s quiet, like you, a bit aloof perhaps, but he will tr–” She was cut off by a loud whoosh, as heavy feet landed near the table.

Elain yelped, yet Bethane didn’t do anything but roll her eyes in an affectionate way. She raised from her chair and approached whoever had crushed their afternoon tea.

“You could have told me you were coming! You interrupted my tea and scared my guest,” Bethane scolded, even as she wrapped her arms around the much bigger figure.

The figure let out a masculine chuckle, and something about it sounded familiar to Elain. She inclined her head, confused, just as Bethane turned around, allowing Elain to get a clear view of the male.

“Elain, let me introduce you to my son, Azriel,” she said excitedly.

Elain sat frozen, her eyes wide as they took in Azriel. As her brain tried to make sense of the words. My son, Azriel. The woman she’d come to think of as her confidante, her friend, was Azriel’s mother. They murmured hellos, still too shocked to say anything more.

“We were just talking about you, Az,” Bethane went on, not noticing the tension between her son and Elain.

Elain mustered a shaky smile when the older woman turned toward her. Azriel, on his part, stood ramrod still, his eyes fixed on Elain. She wasn’t sure if he was even breathing.

His mother– his mother— tugged on his hand. “Come sit down with us.”

Elain slid her chair backward. “Oh, no, I can just leave. I don’t want to intrude on your time.” She made to leave, but Bethane waved a hand and signaled she should sit down.

“Nonsense. You were already here, you’re not the intruder.”

She glanced at Azriel, even as she sat back down and smiled at his mother.

Bethane waved a hand in the air, a calling, and sure enough a servant appeared. She asked him to pour a cup of tea for Azriel, ignoring his weak protests.

The older woman watched him until he took the smallest sip of his tea, to which she nodded, satisfied.

“I’m so happy you two finally met. You’re my two favorite people in all of Prythian,” Bethane exclaimed, elation clear in her voice.

Elain glanced at Azriel again, and found him already looking at her. He quickly looked away, setting his eyes on his mother. “I’m happy to see you again. I’m sorry I haven’t been around recently, I’ve been busy.”

“No one is ever too busy for their mother,” Bethane said in lieu of a reply. “But let’s not change the topic. Az, have I ever told you about the nice young woman who gives me a hand with my garden?”

Azriel’s scarred hand tightened on the teacup. “I think you mentioned it once or twice,” he said, eyes still fixed on his mother.

“Right, I think I did. Elain is the young woman. She’s incredible at what she does!” Bethane exclaimed.

“I know,” Azriel nodded, then seemed to think about what he said because he added, “From what you’ve told me and what I can see.” He threw her a quick glance, before refocusing on Bethane.

“She was just telling me about how a male rejected her. What a fool,” the older woman said, shaking her head in disbelief.

Azriel choked on his next sip. Then he started coughing. The dark-haired female reached over and gently patted him on the back, a concerned look on her face.

“Are you alright, dear?”

He nodded, his head moving so fast Elain feared he might break his neck. “It just went down the wrong pipe,” he explained, still coughing. He’d brought his hand against his mouth, unconsciously flexing his muscled arm. Elain stared at it appreciatively.

“Oh, thank god. Anyway, the guy is a real jerk, Elain. You will find better, I’m sure of it,” Bethane turned toward, nodding along with what she was saying.

Elain felt a blush make its way up her neck. This time she was the one who refused to look at him, though she could feel Azriel burning a hole through her. She needed a change of topic, immediately.

She glanced at the window. “Oh Mother. I’ve been here for a long time already. I promised my sister I would watch her baby tonight, so she and her husband can go on a much-needed date.”

Not a lie, not entirely. She had promised to babysit Nyx for a few hours, tomorrow night. The identity of her family, of who her sisters actually were, was another thing she’d kept from Bethane. Every time she’d introduce herself as Elain Archeron, people would make the connection to Feyre and Nesta and start treating her differently, almost like she was a famous singer or writer. She’d try to explain she didn’t need any special treatment, that she was just Elain, but they wouldn’t hear a word about it. Someone had even dared to bow to Elain’s greatest horror. So she hadn’t uttered a word about it to Bethane, only introducing herself as Elain the gardener, Elain the seer. She’d felt ashamed about lying to the elder female like that, but it was the price for her friendship. She’d paid it without a second thought.

Bethane’s eyes lit up at the mention of Nyx, even though she obviously didn’t know that was her sister’s baby’s name. No, Bethane thought he was called Matthew.

“Then you should go. Hopefully one day I will get to meet him,” said the elderly female. A strange light danced in her eyes, something that made Elain’s arms break out in goosebumps. It didn’t sound like a wish, but… more like a promise.

Elain gracefully got up from her chair, and nodded at Bethane. “Thank you again for the tea. I’ll come by in two weeks to assess the lilies, and we’ll decide what to do with it.” The other female replied affirmatively, and Elain headed toward the door. Bethane’s voice stopped her.

“Let Azriel fly you, dear. The sun is about to set, I don’t want you walking alone in the dark.”

Elain scrambled for something to say. “But–But he’s just arrived, don’t you want to spend time with your son?”

Bethane waved a hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about that. He’ll come by tomorrow, isn’t that right, Az?” Her question was more of a statement, one Azriel couldn’t escape from.

He seemed to realize that, too, as he nodded slowly, glaring at his mother, who glared right back. Elain observed the silent exchange between mother and son, and yearned for that connection. Her mother had never liked her, that she knew, but she still wished for that kind of relationship. She turned her head to the side, to hide from the pain the sight gave her.

Until someone brushed her finger. She looked up, startled, and found Azriel staring at her, gently yet grimly. She wondered if he knew he was the male who had broken her heart and then stomped on it, or if he’d even forgotten the whole exchange.

He’d started coming to the family dinners again, always sitting as far away from her as possible. She knew it was intentional at first— she avoided him like the plague, too— yet now she wondered if throughout the months it had become an instinct. Her heart squeezed painfully again.

“Can I?” He asked softly, gesturing toward the sky.

Elain nodded, not trusting her voice. He attempted a smile, and took her in his arms. Within seconds, they were up in the air.

The view was spectacular, the hues of the sky so beautiful they seemed like they were painted. She could hear children laugh in the distance, the music sounding from pubs that opened early. Yet as Elain’s arms circled Azriel’s neck, all her mind could focus on was that she was in his arms again, for the first time in what felt like years. She could hear his heart beating, fast, which she attributed to the flight. She didn’t have wings, couldn’t shapeshift like her younger sister Feyre, but she reckoned it must take some strength and concentration. She wondered if he could hear her own heart beating fast, wondered if he knew why it was beating as though it was poised to explode.

They landed at the town house, where Elain currently lived. She spent most of her time at the river house with Feyre and Rhysand, to help them with baby Nyx when they were too exhausted, or help with the food, but Rhysand had generously given her the town house when she’d told them she was looking for her own place. She had moved in six weeks after Nyx was born, and it was slowly becoming her home.

Azriel placed her delicately on the foyer, and took a step back. He cleared his throat, making Elain look up at him. “Thank you.”

Elain’s face must have shown her confusion because he hurried to clarify, “For my mother. For helping her.”

“Oh, there’s no need to thank me,” Elain waved a hand in the air. “You know I like gardening.”

“I’m not– you’ve been doing a lot more than that. In the past few months, I’ve seen my mother happier than ever. Now I know it’s thanks to you.” A strange light shone in his beautiful hazel eyes.

“I’m— I didn’t do anything special. It’s— just tea,” she said, softly.

Azriel shook his head. “No, it’s not. Thank you,” he repeated.

Elain smiled slightly. Silence fell between them, and just when Elain thought he was leaving, he spoke again. “I’m sorry.” It was nothing more than a whisper. She wouldn’t have heard him if it wasn’t for her Fae hearing.

“What for?”

He took a step closer, so close she could feel his body heat. Her breath caught in her throat. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “For what happened on Solstice.”

A buzzing sound ringed in her ears. She froze, and he took the opportunity to slide even closer. His scarred hand landed on her waist. Azriel’s eyes locked on her own.

“I never should have lied to you.” Elain could feel her heart breaking again at his words. Why was he doing this to her?

“It’s fine,” she said, attempting to break free of his hold. His hand tightened on her waist, not enough to hurt her, but tight enough that she wouldn’t be able to leave.

“It’s not fine. I made you believe I had no feelings for you, told you kissing you was a mistake. But it’s not. It could never be,” Azriel said, pronouncing the words clearly, not allowing her to misunderstand what he was saying.

Elain was sure her heart had stopped beating. She couldn’t breathe properly, her hands shaking so bad she had to clench them in a fist.

“I should have never said those things to you, I should have never listened to— Elain, please,” he begged, as his hand went up to her cheek, never lifting his touch. “Believe me when I say how ashamed I am. How sorry I am. It was all lies.”

Elain shook her head, and made to take a step back. This time, he let her go. “I– I’m– I don’t know what to say,” she murmured. She looked him in the eyes again, and although she could read honesty in them, she was still unsure.

Taking a deep breath, Elain said, “I don’t know what to believe. Five months ago you broke my heart, and now you’re saying it was a lie? Why? Why would you do that to me? Why would you tell me now?”

Elain Archeron was known for being quiet, kind, mellow, a people pleaser. Yet in that moment, all she could feel was hot fury sizzling in her veins. How dare he? Azriel’s eyes widened.

“Was it a joke to you? Was I a joke to you? What even is the truth?” She was almost yelling, yet unshed tears blurred her sight. She refused to let them out, refused to let him see how badly he still hurt her.

Yet Azriel didn’t back down like she thought he would, didn’t retreat. No, he moved toward her again, slowly backing her against the wall. Until she could do nothing but look him in the eye, the ire in hers complementing the determination in his.

“The truth is I’m irrevocably in love with you. For almost my entire life I thought I knew what that word meant, but it turns out I had no idea. At night I find myself having to restrain myself from coming here, from kissing you like I should have five months ago. At the family dinners, I have to sit as far from you as possible because I don’t trust that I won’t take you in my arms and fly us to a faraway place, where no one can find us.

“The truth is, I find myself yearning to spend my days with you. I want to listen to you talk about your garden, your visions, I want to know all about you. I want to help Nuala and Cerridwen train you. But most importantly, I want to give all of myself, all that I am to you.

“When my mother said I broke your heart… I know I did, and at the time I thought staying away from you was the better choice for you, but hearing it— it almost felt like someone stabbed me.” Azriel’s voice broke, and his eyes were veiled with tears. “Elain, please believe me when I say you showed me what being in love truly feels like. Even if you can’t find it in yourself to forgive me, I want to thank you for this gift.”

Elain was crying, freely, unashamedly. Growing up, she’d been courted by many men, many times. They would read poetry to her, bring her flowers, some would even sing. No one had poured their heart out like Azriel just had.

Azriel raised his hand and carefully wiped the tears from her eyes, her cheeks. She closed her eyelids. The feeling of his touch sent shivers down her spine, a gasp escaping her mouth. Azriel’s glance immediately fell to her lips, his eyes darkening. She shivered again.

Elain leaned forward. “I don’t want to talk now. But you owe me a kiss.” And with that, she sealed her lips over his.

Azriel let out a deep moan. It was the push she needed to open her mouth, her tongue meeting his. He groaned, one of his hands slid to the back of her head, the other fell to the small of her back. She pressed her front against his, and the friction between his broad, muscled chest and her breasts made her moan. He took that as an invitation, his hand sliding down to her leg. He lifted her up, carried her to the bedroom, laid her down on the bed.

Elain looked up at Azriel, the heat in his eyes matching her own. She took him in, her gaze following his big arms, his toned legs, the thick hardness that was visible through his shorts. She instinctively squeezed her legs shut. His eyes flashed at the sight.

Yet he didn’t come on the bed. “Are you sure?” He asked her, his voice rough, deep.

“Yes, please,” she begged him. “We will talk. Later,” she promised. Azriel seemed to study her, but eventually nodded and followed her on the bed. She smiled against her lips, which quickly turned into another moan.

He brought his mouth down to her breasts, while his hand found her wetness. He groaned, the vibrations sending her another wave of pleasure. She gripped his hair until he raised his head. His dilated pupils made it impossible to see the color of his eyes. He was flushed, pleasure and desire clear on his face. She kissed him again as he pushed a finger inside her. They both moaned at the feeling, and he broke the kiss. Azriel left peppermint kisses on her neck, her chest, her stomach, until he reached that sweet spot between her thighs.

Elain leaned back into the sheets as he kissed her, again and again, until she was writhing in pleasure. Until she screamed his name and collapsed in the bed. He was immediately there, kissing her softly on the mouth. She barely managed to kiss him back, her legs shaking. “I need you inside me,” she whispered against his lips. He sucked in a breath. She smiled.

She got up to her knees and gently pulled him down. Azriel’s eyes flared, understanding what she meant to do. She climbed over him, her hand reaching behind her to grab his hardness. Elain placed it near her entrance and, staring him straight in the eyes, slid down on it.

It was pure ecstasy. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back as she started moving slowly, Azriel’s hands on her waist guiding her. The room was filled by their moans and short breaths, the sound of their bodies joined together, Elain’s whispered pleas for more, more, more.

She collapsed on top of him just as he came, inside her, filling her.

Azriel took her in his arms and laid them down on the bed. He stroked her hair as he kissed every inch of her face, murmuring sweet nothings. She smiled in pure bliss, nuzzling his hands, the feeling of being in his strong arms lulling her to sleep.

Elain awoke a couple of minutes later to a warm, wet cloth cleaning her. She caught Azriel’s eyes and they both smiled at the other.

“Go back to sleep, love. I’ll be back soon,” he said quietly. Elain did as he said.

Hours later, as they cuddled in bed, Azriel began speaking.

He told her of his childhood, of the torture he was subjected to at the hands of his half-brothers.

They both cried at that, Azriel pressing his face against her breasts as Elain cradled him like she did with Nyx. Then it was her turn, she told him of growing up believing she was nothing more than a pretty face to be sold to the highest bidder. She told him how Graysen was the first choice she’d made for herself, and how she’d believed for months after he humiliated her, that maybe her mother and Nesta were right, that she couldn’t make her own choices. Nuala and Cerridwen had made her see the truth.

They talked some more, until finally he told her about his mother.

“Mine wasn’t a lucky guess,” Azriel admitted. “The more you talked about your visions, the more I realized what you were. I recognized the look on your face you’d get when a vision came to you– it was the same one I’d see on my mother’s face. I went to talk to her, told her about you, and she confirmed my guess.”

Elain listened as he recounted his boyhood with Bethane– when he was allowed to see her– and how they’d caught up on the lost moments after he’d escaped his father’s house.

Azriel confessed what had stopped him from kissing her on Solstice. She’d felt anger toward Rhysand, but she couldn’t fault him, not entirely. For Azriel and their future children, should they have them, she would do anything. No, she couldn’t blame him at all.

They talked until the night sky turned into early dawn, when they fell asleep, hugging each other as though they might disappear, as though this was all a dream.

Two weeks later, Elain was again at Bethane’s manor. Rosehall, she found out it was called.

She’d spent two hours in the garden trying to find out why the lilies were dying, and then trying to fix it when she detected the issue. Bethane, Azriel’s mother, had not been home when she’d arrived, but left instructions to proceed with the work.

She’d come home an hour later, leaving Elain to her work. Elain was anxious to talk to her friend, but she was not about to do a sloppy job.

Now they were seated in the tearoom that oversaw the blooming garden, in the same positions as last time. This time, Bethane wore a different look on her face. Her features were sharper, controlled.

Elain opened her mouth, wanting to ask her how her weeks had gone, if she’d gotten more visitors, yet what came out was, “You knew.” It wasn’t an accusation, it was a fact. A truth she only realized now, sitting in front of the older female.

Bethane took a sip of her tea, even though Elain knew it was too hot. Azriel’s mother leaned back in her chair. “You have to be more specific, dear. What do you think I knew?”

Elain narrowed her brown eyes. “You knew who I was. You knew who my sister is, you knew I knew your son, and you knew he was the guy who rejected me. What I don’t know is when you figured it out. Was it when I told you I’m a seer, and you remembered Azriel coming to you about a once-human-now-Fae female, with a power similar to yours?” She challenged.

Bethane’s features remained the same, not at all concerned by the words. “It wasn’t hard to guess. There’s not many once-human-now-Fae females around. Actually, I think there’s only three. And I’d heard from other villagers that one of those three, who happened to be the sister of our High Lady, was a gardener. Imagine my surprise when you appeared on my front porch.”

Elain ignored that other piece of truth. “But why? Why did you not tell me you knew who I was? Was it… Was it a joke?” There was pain in her voice, just as a wounded look glinted in her deer-like eyes.

“No, dear. It wasn’t like that. When you showed up at my door, you had this expectant look on your face… It was clear to me you feared I’d treat you differently, that I wouldn’t allow you to do any work. You needed to escape from reality, and that’s what I chose to be for you.” She leaned forward and grabbed Elain’s hands, drawing invisible circles with her fingers. “I had a vision, months before your first visit. I saw my son, Azriel, smiling in pure contentment. He was standing near a bed, his arm encircling someone’s petite shoulders. You were half-sitting on the bed, a tired yet elated look on your face. You were holding a small, bundled cloth— a baby. Yours and Azriel’s baby. I didn’t know you back then, but from that frame alone I could see, I could feel how happy you made him. I only helped you come closer.” Bethane explained, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Elain sat frozen, her hand to her mouth. She knew her own eyes mirrored the older female’s, her sight blurry. Her mind kept replaying the words pronounced by Bethane. She didn’t know when the vision would take place, or if it would even prove true– there had been cases, Bethane had explained to her one afternoon, where the visions had proven a missed possibility, a what-if scenario only known to seers— yet something told her it would. In a few years, yes… but it would.

“You can’t blame an old female for wanting to ensure she gets grandchildren, can you?” Elain laughed at Bethane’s attempt to make the room lighter, a few tears escaping. Happy tears. “No, I really can’t.” She shook her head. “Well, then I guess you will be happy to hear that Azriel and I have been spending more time together.”

The older female’s features now split open in a huge smile. “Did he apologize?” Elain blushed. “He did, he sure did.” Flashes of the creative ways he’d come up with to apologize to her danced in her mind, but she quickly waved them away. It was not the time.

“Thank you, Bethane. For everything you did, for me, your son, us. Being your friend has been an honor, my saving grace in these dark months.”

Bethane blinked rapidly. “Thank you, for everything,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

They drank their tea in silence, enjoying the warm weather. At some point, Azriel joined them. He took a quick look at their tear-stricken faces and watery eyes and went still. “Is everything alright?” He asked them, worried.

The two females looked at each other and smiled. “Yes, it couldn’t be better.”

#elriel #elriel fic #elriel fanfic #elain archeron #azriel #feyre archeron #rhysand #nyx #azriel's mom #rosehall #acotar #i forgot about lucien #sorry

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