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skzdarlings · 6 months

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part viii: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending. (chapter word count; 13,800 words)

chapter warnings: the usual dynamics and abuse history. reader is harassed at a bar by a handsy man. some fighting. unprotected sex. BDSM dynamics (dom!felix/sub!reader, sadism, masochism, rope bondage, spanking, belting, fear kink).

You sleep through most of the afternoon, waking in that bleary, purple hour where evening is unexpectedly creeping into the day. Felix is not in the room, though the evidence of your lovemaking remains in the mess of your shared bed. There is also a tender ache between your thighs but it does not register as pain, or at least not as bad. It is proof of pleasure.

You touch yourself there, still sleepy but still wanting.

You listen for Felix. He is talking in the other room, on the phone with your father. You slip out of bed and dig around for a shirt, because you don’t want to distract Felix too bad while he is reporting.

A conversation with your father will no doubt cool him down, more effective than a douse of ice water, but you will not abandon him to that cold. Never again.

You wait in the corridor, listening as he mentions your missed class but lying about you having a stomach flu. He claims he made you rest because you have an important exam in a few days. He also claims you argued with him, which is convincingly in character for you, but naturally he won this supposed argument so your father has ‘nothing to worry about’.

You grin, biting your bottom lip, as tender from loving as the rest of you.

Felix ends the call. After a moment, he sighs and says, “I know you’re there.”

You turn the corner. Felix is sitting in the middle of the couch, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hair is partially pulled back, a lazy half-bun with the rest in a messy sweep around his neck. The collar of the shirt does not hide the love bite on his throat, twin to your own.

Despite his frown, he is sitting with his legs apart, and light sweatpants do very little for hiding anything inside them. He clears his throat but doesn’t close his legs, just cocks an eyebrow when you meet his gaze.

You blink oh-so innocently.

“You made me sound like such a good girl,” you say. “Even I almost believed it.”

You can see the amusement tugging at his lips. He pushes his tongue into his cheek.

“Mmm…” His low voice comes softly. “But you are a good girl. When you want to be.”

“When I’m made to be, you mean,” you say.

You hold his gaze as you approach. He plays the professional, watching you with a detachment that contradicts the thickening bulge in his sweats. Your desire is even more obvious, in your eyes and face and the sway of your body.

You put your hands on his knees and bend over, the collar of your shirt swooping low. Still, he looks into your eyes and no where else. A conversation happens there, beneath the surface of your words. You have often read each other like a book.

Come with me, you say, and though he does not move, though his body and eyes are rooted, he lets a little fondness run through the fissures of his usual mask. He finally looks at your lips.

“Do you tell them?” you ask. You get down on your knees, face at level with his open thighs. “When they ask how you get me to behave, how you seem to do it so easily when so many tried and failed…”

He says your name, darkly coloured with promise. You both know where this is leading.

It is not just about the kneeling or the pouting, but that this is you, who has never willingly knelt for even the most dangerous of men. And when you rest your head on his knee, you are thinking about that, about how it is only for him, exactly as he is. How he knows every possible way his body could be used to hurt someone. How he runs a gentle hand across your hair.

“Sweetheart,” he says.

“Do you tell them how you win our arguments?” you ask, flicking your gaze from between his legs to his face. “Or do you leave out the part where you shut me up with your dick in my mouth?”

His hand drifts down your face and he holds your chin, lifts your head. He furrows his brow as if he, too, is completely innocent.

“Shut you up?” he asks. He presses two fingers at your lips in a patient request. You open your mouth and take him to the knuckle. “That doesn’t sound right.” He lets you tease him, lets you swirl your tongue around his fingers. He looks at those fingers as he slides them out between your lips and back in again. “You weren’t quiet this afternoon,” he says. “Mmm, the opposite even, I think, don’t you?”

You give him your best glare, to which he laughs, a little huff of amusement.

“You can hate me,” he says, “if it makes you feel better.”

He stands and takes his fingers with him, so you chase him with pursed lips. Your breath catches when he grabs the back of your neck, stopping your pursuit, holding you firmly, safely.

He smiles down at you with that too-sweet, too-innocent smile. His other hand unties the band of his sweats.

You swallow. Your heart is thumping, an excited and pleasurable thrum you feel right down to the core of you. You blink up at him as the waistband comes loose so he can roll the material down, his dick hard and springing up, his hand as firm on the back of your neck.

You smile.

“Make me,” you say.

He smiles back.

“Don’t have to,” he says. “You’ll do what I say. Now come on. Be a good girl and open your mouth.”

He is right, that it takes nothing more than that. You want him too badly to even pretend to refuse, your lips parting in an open kiss that welcomes him to enjoy you as much as you are enjoying yourself.

Though he plays along, Felix is naturally restrained. Even when assuming the semblance of total control, he holds himself in a type of bondage, his body tense and breath ragged.

You make a showy mess of your wet mouth and stick out your tongue.

“Is that it?” you ask. “I don’t think you would any arguments like that—”

He laughs and shakes his head. He hesitates only a moment before taking your face in his hands and fucking himself back into your open mouth.

It gets you hot and wet, how he hands himself over to you, how he trusts you with the pleasure he is always so reluctant to accept. You give it to him and more, until your jaw is sore and your face is wet with tears.

He touches you there, looking down at you with the sort of reverence that usually comes from the person kneeling. He cups your face and tilts it up, looking at you affectionately even while stroking his dick right beside your cheek.

You glance there out of the corner of your eye, then bat your eyelashes up at him.

“I hate you,” you say, and it makes him come in a streak on your wet cheek.

It is stupidly hot, but Felix being Felix apologizes anyway.

When he reaches for you, you lean away. His gaze is wary, watching as you swipe a finger over your cheek then lick that finger clean. There is very little evidence left on your face, but you gather what remains and put your fingers back in your mouth, giggling as he huffs but surrenders to a smile. He reaches again but you dodge his hand.

You wonder if he is also remembering your first night together: how he chased you to stop you from petulantly shoving things in your mouth, how you were the hot-tempered girl you are pretending to be now, how he was the dutiful soldier already in over his head because of that girl.

You think he does remember, because you understand each other with one glance.

You run and he chases you. He vaults the couch and sweeps you into his arms before you can get too far.

When Felix truly applies himself, you stand no chance of escaping, so every little squirm and wiggle is something he grants you.

Right now, he concedes no ground. He locks you in his arms, your back to his front, and marches you right up to the window.

It is a mirror on the outside and, even if it was not, you are too high up for anyone to see anything but a spec in the glass. Still, there is a thrilling moment when you feel like you are standing on top of the whole city, where everyone can see you, where they can see him, his hand slipping under your shirt as you plant your palms on the glass.

“That’s it,” he says, nudging your feet apart with a little kick.

Your breath is already fogging the glass by the time he touches you. He makes an even more guttural sound than you, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he rubs his fingers through all that wet desire.

His hair is more dishevelled now, wisps falling from the knot. You unravel just as quickly, quicker even, riding the rhythm he sets with his hand.

His arm is around your neck, cradling you close, and his other hand is inside you. You press against him and come to the soft sound he makes, to his breath hitting your neck, to everything intimate between you.

His touch gentles but not stop. You realize he does not intend to stop, that he is slowly working you towards another orgasm. You whimper and wriggle in his grip, but you also push desperately onto his hand.

He shushes you soothingly, his arm holding you steady when your knees start to tremble. He eases you both down, on your knees, never ceasing his touching.

You come even harder the second time, throwing your head back onto his shoulder.

He kisses your face then slows down and finally stops his touching. He cups his hand over your pussy with a sort of possessiveness. Then he sighs with satisfaction, his breath waking goosebumps along your skin.

“That’s my girl,” he says, a soft murmur.

It is only for you, a secret whisper spoken right into your ear. You look down at the city beneath you, sprawling as far as the eye can see, all the way to the where to the last rays of sunlight peek over the horizon. An entire world.

You touch a hand to the glass. He kisses your neck and your eyes close. You imagine falling into that big open world, secure in his protective hold.

You let yourself relax in his arms. You release a breath you did not realize you had been holding.

The next few semesters pass in a blur of similar dreams and desires. It is just you and Felix in the middle of everything, in and out of a dangerous world, escaping to a haven of your own design.

You do not know where the times goes, but weeks turn to months. Semesters come and go. Another graduation looms on the not-so-distant horizon. Somehow, you feel as ill-equipped for the world as you did when you were a teenager.

So much has changed and so much has stayed the same. When it is just you and Felix in that apartment, you feel free to safely exist. You lives are mired in trouble and trauma but you grow comfortably into your weird, grown-up selves. You might even say you are happy to be who you are, appreciating the good days because of the bad ones.

But beyond graduation is the looming threat of a permanent return to your father’s house and the life he has planned for you.

You are spending the weekend there, in your old bedroom, because of a few events your father wants you to attend. After just one day in his house, you revert to all your anxious teenage habits. It worries Felix when you withdraw like that, when you get snippy and cold, though he knows you well enough to understand.

You look at him now, on the opposite side of this huge bed, far away because you are not alone in this house. The space feels bigger than you remember. Terror forms its usual death grip on your heart. You wonder how you were ever so reckless with your safety, with his safety. Felix is the bodyguard but you would do anything to keep him safe.

You slide a little closer, then a little more. The cadence of his breathing changes as he wakes, always a light sleeper, though he does not open his eyes.

You brush some hair off his face. He leans into your touch and you smile despite everything. You stroke his cheek and feel your sorrows melt with his soft exhale.

“Rest,” he says in a deep voice rough with sleep.

You continue to stroke your thumb over his cheek, just looking at his face. His roots are getting dark again and his freckles are more pronounced in the blue dark of this bedroom. You admire his profile, the slope of his nose, his lips, and you find yourself overcome with affection and desire.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, catching your hand when it slides down his neck. “Not now.”

His admonition makes sense. You have only been here a day. You will be back in the apartment in a few more. An apartment with privacy and protection, where you can touch each other without any consequences. There is no reason to put yourselves in jeopardy here, tonight.

Maybe you do remember how and why you were so reckless as a child, stealing back whatever parts of your life you could, whenever you could, however you could. You should be allowed to touch who you want when you want. You should be allowed to live in your own body.

You want to feel alive, and you feel most alive when you act in defiance of all the rules that would restrain you, when you face down danger in your path and steal back your heart from that death grip.

“Felix,” you say. Then, in a softer hush, you whisper, “Baby.”

It catches his breath as it always does, such a simple endearment, so common, like he is just a boy and you’re just his girl. You are certain if you slide your hand lower, you will find him already getting hard just from hearing it.

“Please,” you whisper.

“This is crazy,” he whispers, eyes still closed, tightly now, like he can make the rest of the world disappear by not looking at it.

“I’ve always been crazy,” you say. “You like me anyway.”

He finally opens his eyes. He looks at you and your heart skips beats, and you wonder if that gaze will ever cease to make your heart race this way. Years and years and years of sharing this bed, and you still feel warm and dreamy when he strokes the pad of his thumb across your knuckles.

“Hmm, doesn’t matter how I feel, yeah?” he says. “You hate me no matter what.”

His tone is light and teasing. It is your usual innuendo. The game you always play.

You do not want to play any games tonight. Tears prickle in your eyes as you look at him, as those words cross his lips. You want so badly to say what you really mean, but your emotion gets the best of you and the words never cross your lips.

His brow furrows when he realizes you are struggling with something. He touches your face, turning it towards him to look at you more closely. A tear slips down your cheek and he wipes it away.

“Felix,” you say. You shake your head. You clasp his hand to your cheek. “Make love to me.”

You cannot help but laugh at the look on his face. Very little surprises him, a consummate professional in all appearances, and he is good at absorbing his own shock and moving on. But he looks physically stunned, eyes wide and mouth open, words caught in a cluster on his tongue.

When you laugh, it snaps him out of his daze. His face softens, expression fond if not a little morose.

“This is, uhh…” He clears his throat, shakes his head. “Stupid.”

“I don’t care,” you say.

It is the truth. You are suddenly completely apathetic to everything beyond the bedroom door. You don’t care if they catch you. You don’t care if they hurt you. You don’t even care if they kill you. That dark thought has you reaching desperately for the only source of light and life in the room.

You wrap your arms around Felix. You hold his shoulders and kiss his face, lining your body up against his. When you kiss below his jaw, he makes a soft sound of surrender. His hand slides up the back of your shirt, rests between your shoulder blades and holds you, firmly, as he looks at you then kisses you.

Your eyes close and you kiss him back. They stay closed, even when the kiss deepens, when he licks into your mouth, when he catches your sigh with a bruising press of his lips. You let yourself fall into the sublime haze of desire, not looking but feeling.

He puts you on your back and holds himself above you. You are already breathing hard. You tug on his shirt so he leans back and whips it off. Then you are touching his bare shoulder, his back, dragging your nails down his backside and feeling him shiver against you.

His open mouth is hot against your throat, wet on your chest through your shirt, then under it. You tug it off and over your head, leaving it spilled on the pillow beside you, then your arms are around him and your legs are spreading to fit his hips. You are both fumbling with the last of your clothes when he gasps against your throat and mumbles something like, “We don’t have—we can’t—”

Some distant, logical part of your brain knows he means protection. After the first coming together, you’ve been careful in all your intimate moments. But sense and logic are far from your mind right now.

Once you are both completely naked and free, you wrap around him and pull him to you. He comes to you with another surrendering sigh.

Your eyes have been closed for so long, and the physical sensations have been so strong, that you very literally see stars when he is finally inside you.

He instinctively covers your mouth when you make too loud a sound. You grab that hand and lace your fingers, then rest it beside your head. He covers your mouth with his, gathering your other hand so both are pushed into the mattress on either side of your head. He is so close, his whole body pressed to yours, that you think he must be deeper inside you than ever before.

His hips roll against yours with a slow sensuality, one sometimes lacking in your more desperate couplings. It all feels so good that you genuinely believe you could die happy if you died right now.

He makes another soft noise that sounds like a question. You answer with a gentle moan of your own, a squeeze of your fingers between his, and a clenching between your thighs that has his whole hard body going soft and tender in seconds. He comes inside you and maybe that should wake you up and cause alarm, but it doesn’t. The room just gets quieter, your heart thumping against his all the while. He holds himself above you for a few breathless seconds then lets go.

You hold him against you, hands separating so you can slide them along his arms and up into his hair. His face rests in the crook of your neck and shoulder.

Maybe you should feel more concern for your circumstance. But you are not really worried.

Tomorrow, you will attend another party, you will smile, you will dance with someone your father pushes your way.

A few days later, you will convince your father to let you take birth control, claiming it is to manage your irregular and too-heavy period flows. He will be as immature as ever and quickly agree, anything to end a conversation he finds too awkward to navigate.

You and Felix will go back to your apartment. You will study for tests and drink coffee and write essays. You will count the days to graduation.

Right now, you laugh. It is soft and carefree. It catches when he slides out of you, but it returns when he looks at you with a quirked eyebrow. But his regard is a tender one. You stroke his face and he kisses your palm, then he swoops down and kisses your nose and cheeks and just under your chin.

I’m alive, you think. In your father’s house, disobeying all his rules. He has tried so hard to kill you, to break you down into pieces that he can rebuild, the way he does with any malfunctioning piece of industry tech. And he has failed. Despite his best efforts, despite his money and power and influence over what seems like the whole world, you are alive.

You concede that maybe with your problems and imperfections, there is not much more to boast, but being alive is all that matters.

Felix kisses you. You think about the childish fairy tales that your father and grandfather ensured never took root in your mind. If you were like them, you would not believe in magic kisses or true love or saving grace.

You kiss Felix back.

“Can you ride a motorcycle?” you ask.

Felix, who is concentrating so you do not fall off your bicycle, briefly flicks his gaze up to you. You lose your balance and swerve, but he is quick to catch the handlebar and steer you straight. His hands hover around you as he walks alongside where you peddle.

“I can do anything,” he says but absently, too focussed on watching you.

You snort and your amusement almost derails you again. You correct your wobble with a little jerk of the handles.

“Cocky,” you say. “I’ll have to see it to believe it.”

Felix laughs. He holds the handle and guides you around a corner in the path.

“Maybe I should learn to ride a motorcycle,” you say with absolutely no sincerity. “I’m sure my father would loooove that, don’t you think?”

Felix levels you with a predictably dry regard. You giggle maniacally which causes you to swerve again.

He steers you forward with a quick yank. He cannot help but smile at your cheesy grin.

“How about you learn to ride a regular bike first, hmm?” he says.

“It’s not my fault,” you say, wobbling again. “It’s the wind.”

“Mhm.”

“It is!”

It is a rather blustery day, all grey skies and swift winds. Felix almost lost his favourite beanie, so now it is yanked tight and low over his head so you can hardly see a wisp of hair. You are similarly bundled in a hoodie, the strings drawn comically tight around your face so it would stop blowing off. Felix keeps snickering when he looks at you, but it just makes you giggle back at him.

The university has bicycles for rent to cross campus. Though you usually walk, today you thought it would be fun to try, even if you did immediately disprove the old adage about memory and bike riding.

You have not ridden a bike since childhood. You were not allowed to use it outside because your father was concerned the wheels would carry you away too quickly, that something could happen before your nanny and guards caught up. You were only allowed to ride your bike in the gym, which got very boring very fast, so you never bothered with it. The only other time you sat on a bike was the few times you sat on the handlebars when Jisung rode his bike around.

The memory comes so suddenly, a snapshot of a moment you did realize you remembered so vividly. His goofy laughter sings through your memory, your own delighted shrieks as he sped down a slope and scared himself more than you.

It makes you a little sullen. After years, it seems ridiculous that you should still be so hung-up on an adolescent friendship, especially with so much more to occupy your mind. But then, you suppose it was not just any friendship. The Han Jisungs of the world are few and far between. You were lucky to know him while you did. Without him, you doubt you would have ever gotten on a bike again.

Without him, you doubt you would have ever done much of anything but curl into an empty husk of a person.

Instead, you are soft and smiling when Felix touches your back. He notices the change in your disposition and looks at you with concern, and it does not trigger frustration nor do you flinch from his touch. You just smile and steady your handlebars.

“Just silly stuff,” you say with a shake of your head. “Sometimes I sat on Jisung’s bike while he drove us around. Just… thinking about him, I guess.”

“Mm.” Felix nods, understanding. He holds the handle to help keep you steady but he looks ahead, sighing into the wind. “It’s not silly. Your friendship was important,” Felix says. “Though, uhh, I definitely wouldn’t trust Jisung behind the wheels of a motorcycle.”

You laugh at the image of Jisung on a motorbike when that poor boy would sweat just from speeding down a hill.

“No,” you say. “Definitely not for him.”

Of course, maybe that is not true anymore. You are picturing a teenage boy, but Jisung will be as grown as you now. Who knows what he looks like or what he enjoys, what he fears or wants anymore.

Romantic intimacy holds its own special felicity, but it is still different from the gentle affection of friendship. Your heart pangs with the ache of missing him, of years passed apart, of your first ever friend now potentially being as unrecognizable to you as any stranger.

“I just hope he’s happy,” you say, feeling it so strongly you cannot keep it yourself. But then, that was always the way with Jisung, to have liked him so much that you cannot help but let it spill out of you, consciously or not. You’re kinder for having known him. You know how to joke and be goofy and make Felix smile.

“Me too,” Felix says. “He was… well, sort of my friend too. In a way.”

“He was,” you say. “I guess he was the first friend for us both—whoa!”

You make a playful swipe at his shoulder and it makes you lose your balance again. Felix fortunately catches you with those lightning-fast reflexes, holding you up while your bike hits the pavement. There is some stumbling while you try to stand, tangled up with the bike, and nearly yank him down with you.

Eventually you step out. Felix brushes off your shoulders and pats down your arms, as if inspecting for injuries.

“I’m fine,” you say, at the same time Felix says, “He wasn’t.”

“Huh?” You blink at him. “Who wasn’t what?”

“Jisung,” Felix says, a little exasperated. “He wasn’t my first fr—” He cuts himself off when he meets your eye, frowning instead. He tugs on the string of your hoodie so your already tight lacing gets a little snugger. “I’m not talking about this while you look like that,” he intones dryly.

Before you can even open your mouth to protest or ask more, he picks up the bike and swings onto the seat for himself.

“Come on,” he says, patting the handlebars. “I’m hungry. Let’s go.”

You are not exactly a spritely adolescent anymore, but you manage to get yourself perched up on the handlebars. Felix is a better driver than Jisung, faster too, and you find yourself laughing into the wind from the thrill of it. When you reach the campus café, Felix is smiling too, and your previous conversation is forgotten for the time being.

You park the bike in one of the rental receptacles then enter the café. The warmth inside is a balm after the chill. You take off your hood and breathe in deeply, satisfied. Felix rubs your back as he walks you up to the counter to order.

You are waiting for your order when you hear your name. You lift your head, smiling when you see the friendly, dimpled grin of a class-mate, Yang Jeongin. He is a year younger than you but academically advanced so you have shared a few classes over the years. He is a very sweet boy, but you have kept your distance given what happened to the last very sweet boy you befriended.

“Jeongin, hi!” you say.

“Hi, what’s up?” he says. “Have you started any of your final projects? I’m already drowning.”

His big smile and wheezy laugh is disarming in its boyish charm, though you know Felix has his guard up as always. You are still not expecting to feel a proprietary touch settle low on your back, subtle but possessive, and it makes your stomach flip.

It is not really necessary anyway. Jeongin is genuinely just being friendly. He even invites you and Felix to sit with him and his friend, Seungmin, and talk about some readings.

Instinct almost propels you to blurt your usual reply, a polite dismissal or vague promise of a next time that never comes. Friendships don’t end well. You know that.

But Jisung is on your mind, not just the bad but the good. You find yourself agreeing, then you find yourself sitting at a table with two class-mates, having a normal conversation about school and exams and some silly, gossipy campus rumours. You laugh and drink, and Felix does too.

You touch his knee briefly. He touches your hand under the table.

You leave the café feeling lighter, a bounce in your step that has Felix smiling affectionately at you.

“I do have to tell your father something,” Felix reminds you. “If he found out you were seeing people and I said nothing—”

“Ughhhh, clock out for two seconds,” you say. To be extra annoying, you reach out and yank his beanie down over his face. “Just tell him I’m studying with some people. It’s for the benefit of my education, so I can be his perfect and dazzling heir, since I am such a well behaved little girl now, all thanks to the dutiful care and guidance of my oh-so competent bodyguard. See? No big deal.”

Felix fixes his beanie and shakes his head at you, but he still smiling.

“I think you and the rest of the world have, hmm, a different idea of no big deal,” he says. “You know, your extremely powerful father for one… and how he might, uhh, ruin our lives…?”

You shrug.

“Win some, lose some,” you say, to which Felix laughs and rubs his face in disbelief.

Although some days the power of your father and the world under the thumb seems insurmountable, some days all you can do is sigh in the face of it. Today feels like one of those days. You are so often frightened or sad or just downright despondent. Sometimes, the pendulum swings back the other way, and all you can do is laugh.

You do so now, pulling your hood up and tightening the string around your face again.

“Don’t worry, bodyguard,” you say with an exaggerated, innocent flutter of your eyelashes. “I trust you to keep me out of trouble.”

“Oh, you are gonna get me in so much trouble,” you say.

Seungmin laughs.

A few weeks have passed in which you have tentatively befriended Jeongin and Seungmin. Jeongin is all smiles and wheezy laughter, with a biting wit that catches both you and Felix off guard. You can tell Felix enjoys his companionship, even beyond the superficial college-boy role he plays. And not just because Jeongin is something of a gamer and Felix not-so secretly likes having a go at whatever hand console Jeongin keeps on him.

You quite like Seungmin. He is more soft-spoken until he has an opinion to vocalize, at which point there is no escaping his somewhat scathing commentary. His frankness reminds you a little of Hyunjin, just without any showmanship or embellishment. With Seungmin, what you see is what you get. He’s smart and funny and playful, and you like listening to him talk about the readings and his family and all the general shenanigans of an ordinary life.

Felix has told your father they are study partners, which is not an outright lie as all of your interactions have taken place on campus. You have stayed away from parties and clubs and private spaces, so there has been nothing tangible to protest.

But today certainly straddles that line.

After class, the four of you went to your usual campus café. With a major project due at the start of next week, you have been swamped with work.

It was after a few hours and several coffees that Jeongin suggested a break. There are a couple bars around the sprawling campus. Felix was a little hesitant but your pout was as effective as ever in persuading him.

The bar is a cozy one, packed wall-to-wall with noisy students seeking downtime. There is no way anything insane would transpire in here.

Other than Kim Seungmin.

“What, you can’t leave your boyfriend for a second?” Seungmin says, but with no animosity, smiling his big puppy grin. He exhales and shakes his head, eyebrows lifted in faux exasperation. “That sucks for you, wow.”

“First of all, he’s not my boyfriend,” you say. You look over at Felix who is standing at a pinball machine with Jeongin. His eyes keep darting over to you even though you are not that far away. The game is just a few steps from the couch where you and Seungmin sit.

Felix smiles. He is in his favourite black beanie, some ripped black jeans, and a crisp white coat, wisps of blonde hair falling over his freckled face. He looks like such a guy, just a casual university senior, slouching against the wall with hands in his pockets, chatting with his friend and his eyes on his smiling girlfriend. It certainly looks as simple as that. Your heart does not know the difference.

He looks away for a moment because Jeongin says something. Felix laughs. The room is loud so you do not hear him, but you know that laugh so well, the low drop and happy rumble. His eyes crinkle with delight. Your heart skips beats like a little girl with a crush starting all over again.

“Right,” Seungmin says, looking between you and Felix. “Sure.”

You punch Seungmin playfully on the arm.

“Stop,” you say. “We’re just friends.”

It is for the best you maintain that as your cover story. It would be far too convoluted to pretend to be together while being together but lying about being together and—

No. It is for the best that no one ever suspects, that everyone assumes you are close friends or room-mates and nothing more. Not an inkling of your true dynamic.

No one needs to know you woke before your alarm this morning, that you kissed Felix awake, planting soft kisses on his face until he smiled. That you teased him and kissed him and finally bit his shoulder, a playful step too far, so he gathered you in his arms and kissed you breathless. That he stretched out behind you, that he pulled back your thigh with a strong grip and kissed your neck. That he fucked you long and slow until you were gasping and wriggling in his arms. That he made you come mere minutes before your alarm. That he then made a professional call to your father about the week’s plans and the pompous, foolish, awful man was none the wiser.

You look his way. Felix winks then looks down at the game again.

Seungmin clears his throat and you look at him with all the innocence you can muster. He just laughs.

“Uh-huh,” Seungmin says. “Well, does he know you’re just friends? I mean, seriously, watch this—”

Seungmin slings his arm over the back of the couch, not quite around your shoulders but close nonetheless. He leans in ever so slightly and Felix looks over as if on cue. He would never cause a scene without due cause, and, besides, you doubt he seriously considers Seungmin a threat, but he instinctively shifts into guard mode.

It sends Seungmin into peels of laughter. You thump him on the leg.

“Ahaha,” Seungmin says, but lowers his arm. “Fine, I’ll go get drinks all alone so your super good friend doesn’t pop a vein if you come with me.”

You hide your face in your hands and shake your head while Seungmin laughs. He gives you a pat on the back before rising and pushing his way through the crowd to get to the bar counter.

Felix watches him go then looks at you. You smile at him reassuringly, waving a hand, non-committal.

Your stomach does a little flip when his sharp stare softens to something more intimate, something just for you. Years ago, you worried those glances and touches would be addicting, and you were right. It is more intoxicating than anything in a glass. Headier than the atmosphere of the bar. You are flushed with warmth in seconds, the packed heat of the bar keeping that warmth at a simmer.

You have always desperately chased highs and adrenaline, whatever form they took, good or bad. When Felix looks away, you crave the thrill of his determined attention, so you stand and step behind the couch. He looks up as quickly, like you knew he would, standing straight and taking his hands out of his pockets.

You truly do not go far. You have no intention of running, of making him follow, of making him worry. You would not do that to him. While you are certain no one would try anything in a place as public as a campus bar, you nonetheless will not play completely stupid games. You only mean to catch his eye so you can level with him a teasing smirk of your own.

But then someone grabs your arm and yanks. The unexpected touch and the forcefulness triggers a swift panic, your eyes swimming with the shapes of shuffling bodies, your ears slurring what sound like a friendly enough sentence – someone asking if you are in a certain class with him.

“I think I’ve seen you,” he says, still gripping your arm. He smells as drunk as he sounds. Harmless, or maybe not, given the bruising strength of his touch. Drunken stupidity can be as dangerous as conniving intention. “But you always got that little lap dog hanging around, cutie,” he says. “Can’t get within a foot of you without him in the way—”

Said lap dog manifests without delay. The man is taller but he is no match for Felix who comes up behind him and yanks on his collar.

Felix pulls the man over backwards to stare him down. He says, “Hands. Off. Now.”

The man lets go but with a stupid, futile struggle, shoving you so hard that you hit the woman behind you and topple her drink.

In less than a second, the man is on the ground, people shrieking and stepping back when he falls. Felix steps over him to reach you, catching your hand and touching the side of your face.

“You all right?” he asks.

Everything happened so fast that you hardly know what to say. Instinctively, you throw your arms around his neck to be closer to him. He hugs you back as fiercely, murmuring words of comfort that get muffled in your shoulder.

His senses are sharper than yours. He knows the man is up and he turns in time to catch the clumsy punch the guy throws his way. Felix does not show off, even though he could probably lay the guy low a second time. He just pushes the hand away.

This nonchalant rejection seems to anger the man more than a direct hit. He is embarrassed and his stupor only encourages retaliation. His buddies are trying to pull him back now, failing to lead him off.

The man looks at you, red from both exertion and embarrassment, and says with a snarl in his upper lip, “Should keep that dog on a leash.”

Splash.

It takes a second for everyone to realize what just happened. The man is as startled as you, standing stock still with something dripping down his face.

You all look over to Seungmin who is standing there with a half-empty glass.

“Uh… Woof I guess?” Seungmin says, then throws the rest of his drink on him.

The guy staggers towards Seungmin who backs up rapidly. Then Jeongin literally flies in between them and takes a swing at the guy. It completely misses and he smacks his hand on a stool, but it is enough for the man to back up. He must decide that the odds of three-on-one are not in his favour so he finally abandons course, shaking his head as he stalks off with his friends.

“Yeah, yeah, walk away,” Seungmin says as menacingly as Seungmin possibly can, which is not much, especially with Jeongin doubled over beside him. He is shaking out his hand, his face contorted with pain from hitting the stool. “Are you okay?” Seungmin asks.

“Yeah, I’m—” Jeongin starts.

“Not you, dumbass,” Seungmin says. “Go apologize to that chair you assaulted. I’m talking to her.” He looks at you with a tilt of his head.

You nod, letting Felix tuck you under his arm. He rubs your arm soothingly, up and down, and it helps ground you.

“Just happened really fast,” you say. “Startled me, you know…”

“The guy was a jerk,” Seungmin says.

Felix scoffs. His eyes follow the retreating figure. “No kidding,” he says.

“I just wanna go home,” you say.

Your panic ebbs and the hurricane inside you settles.

You touch Felix’s chest. His heart is beating fast with adrenaline. Your breath catches when he looks at you, tendrils of frustration radiating off him. Yet despite the aura of energy, he looks composed, hair neat across his forehead, beanie in place. His jacket is slightly rucked up the arm, but otherwise he is in perfect command of himself.

Your heart dances its bewildered little dance.

His hand drops to your hip and he tugs you close. He exhales through his nose, your eyes drawn to his closed mouth.

You think you must be drunk despite not touching a drop of liquor. How else to explain the physical sensations inside you, so contradictory to your heart and mind? Your soul could never, ever abide by violence or true possessive domination, not with your history and upbringing.

But perhaps it is that, the naturally contradictory nature of its manifestation in Felix. Made by violence, but not made of it. You feel safe because his careful touches and gentle glances do not come from the same blithe, civilian naivete of your sweet friends. It comes from all the violence and control that he rises above.

He holds you and you are safe, protected.

You say goodbye to your friends and Felix calls the car. You wait outside together in the light of a streetlamp. The cool night air dwindles what remains of his adrenaline, though his heart picks up when you step closer, when you press your face to his neck and sigh.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“You did nothing wrong,” he says, cupping your cheek and lifting your face. His thumb strokes your cheek, down along your jaw. He looks into your eyes and smiles. “You were just standing there. He shouldn’t have grabbed you. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say. You look down and his hand falls away from your face. You fiddle with the zipper of his jacket then drag it down a couple inches. “I’m just really sorry.”

He is silent for a moment, his back a little stiffer. You think he catches the tone in your voice because his hand drifts a little lower, resting on the base of your spine.

“I see,” he says, voice lower. “Even though Jeongin did all the work hitting that stool—?”

The unexpected joke in a sultry exchange makes you snort with laughter. The sound surprises Felix who laughs so hard he almost falls over. You give him a little shove, shaking your head.

“All right, all right,” he says, patting your back. “Behave. The car is coming.”

“I always behave,” you say with a swish of your coat, stomping ahead of him to the approaching sedan.

You sit in silence for part of the journey, quiet even with the partition up. Felix has an elbow resting on the window sill, temple pressed to his fist as he stares at the passing streetlights.

“Are you mad?” you ask in your coldest tone.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, dimple flashing with an aborted smile. “I’m never mad,” he says. “I’m a professional.”

“Right,” you say. You slide across the seat to be closer to him but he puts up his hand, stopping you.

“I know it’s a limo, but seatbelt, yeah?” he says. You do not miss the patronizing tone.

“You gonna make me?” you ask. You grab his hand and lower it, looking at him with your smokiest gaze.

His tongue jabs into his cheek as he looks at your hands, palms touching, fingers lacing. He appears contemplative, beyond your little game. You give his hand a gentle squeeze. His eyes meet yours.

“I never want to hurt you,” he says, low even though no one can hear you back here. “You know that, yeah? You know I— I never knew how to want or not want something. I would never—”

“I know, Felix,” you say.

I love you too.

It sits on the tip of your tongue. You very nearly say it in that same low voice.

He lowers your hand to your lap, his palm to your knuckles as he cups your thigh and squeezes. Once, twice, three times. He taps on your knee three times then guides you to do the same. You are a bit bemused until he says, “If you want to talk to me, then…” Three more touches.

“I see,” you say, hot beneath the skin of your cheeks and throat, your heart a thunderous thing. “You expect to shut my mouth then?” You blink at him too cutely.

“I expect you to apologize properly,” he says.

He catches your face before you can spit a rejoinder. It steals your breath. He holds your face steady in his hand, jaw pinched, mouth shut, his eyes burning into the side of your face.

“You answer to me,” he says sternly. “You think you’re sorry, yeah? Then you’re going to apologize. Properly. Quietly. Obediently. Now nod for me. You understand.”

You do not nod. You look at him out of the corner of your eye. His lips break into a smile.

“Ah,” he says. “I see.”

And he does. He has always seen to the depths of you. Just as you have always seen beneath his surface smiles.

The driver sees nothing but a professional on payroll, exchanging an evening pleasantry before Felix escorts you into the apartment building. The greeter nods at you, you nod back. Felix marches you into the elevator and stands politely at your side, hands in his pockets.

You lean on opposite walls of the elevator. He takes off the beanie and tucks it in his pocket. Then he runs his fingers through his hair, fluffing the fair strands. Eventually he meets your gaze. You stare at each other, a silent exchange of thought and anticipation.

In the apartment, he does his security check. You take your time drifting toward the bedroom, wiping off your lipstick, dropping your coat in the middle of the doorway. He scoops it up as he enters behind you, tutting while he brushes it off.

“No respect,” he says but lightly, teasingly.

He walks right past you and drapes the coat neatly over the back of your computer chair. There, he stands with his back to you, unzipping and discarding his own jacket. It leaves him in a black t-shirt and his ripped black jeans, plus those heavy regulation army boots. He is a sharp streak of black shadow, all at odds with his light hair and sweet freckled face as he turns to look at you.

You stand across the bedroom from each other. Your heart is going a mile a minute as he looks you over. You hardly know why the roving glance affects you so deeply. He has seen you in a hundred variations of dressed and undressed. Checking you out in your jeans and t-shirt should hardly warrant a herd of butterflies in your belly.

But it does. Your skin feels alight as he looks at you, assessing you like a target. When his dark eyes flick up to meet yours, he is not smiling. He exhales. His shoulders are tense, his body hard.

“Take off your clothes,” he says.

You expected some deviance from routine given your flirtations, but that is still quite different. You often undress each other, or you provoke him by stripping, flustering him into surrender. He is not flustered now, his stare cold and ungiving as he waits expectantly for you to obey.

Your fingers flutter at your side. Your lips part with a breath.

“Um,” you say, voice rough with arousal in a way you cannot hide. It is hard to fake an affronted feeling, though it is not hard to look nervous. “Excuse me?”

“Everything,” Felix says. “Off. Now.”

You scoff, suffusing the worst of your jitters into the sound. You feign a cocky tilt of your head, hands on your hips as you say, “I don’t think you’re in position to give me orders. If my daddy knew—”

He lifts his knee only infinitesimally but when his foot slams down there is a knife in his hand.

He flicks some hair out of his hair and smiles, perky, just like Felix.

“Off,” he says. “Or I take it off.”

What should be a flicker of fear is a font of pure desire, sharp in your belly and hot between your legs. You look at the knife then his cool smile, the crinkle of pleasure in the corners of his eyes, the pretty fall of his hair. He flips the knife over his knuckles, around and around, smoothly, thoughtlessly.

You step out of your shoes and kick them aside. Your jitters are back, excited and jumpy, prickling under your skin as you lift your shirt over your head and toss that aside too.

“Neatly,” he says, with a tsk, tsk tsk. “Don’t make a mess. Daddy wouldn’t like that, would he?”

“Bastard,” you say, flushed with the admonition. It also makes you a little giddy. There is real power and real evil out there, and it is utterly meaningless in the face of everything between you and Felix. It is a punchline. It is an inside joke. The only thing that holds any real power is his gaze, his voice, his hands.

Your eyes, your sigh, your obedience. It makes him blush, despite his relative position of power, watching you neatly fold your shirt and place it on the bedside table. You remove your jeans and fold those too.

When you look at him, he points the knife to your underclothes, a mute statement: yes, I mean those too. So you take off your bra and place it on the table, flushed and hasty and embarrassed and excited. You slip off your panties and crumple them. You miss the table and they fall to the floor, and Felix points to it with the knife.

“Pick it up,” he says.

You do, quickly, putting it on the pile then stepping away. You cross your arms, only a little chilled, mostly hot under his gaze.

“Good,” he says. “Very good.”

With a flick of his wrist, the knife is swiftly embedded in your desk behind him. He does not even look back.

You jump. It makes your heart beat even faster, stomach tied up in anticipatory knots, desperate to unravel as he approaches you with a slow, predatory stroll.

He circles you. His fingertips brush your side, sending a shiver shooting up your spine. He takes a pillow off the bed and puts it on the floor.

You stand with your back to him, arms still crossed. He touches the middle of your back, walks his fingers gently up your spine until he is holding the back of your neck, pulling you into him, your naked body against his clothed one.

“Get on your knees,” he says. You swear his voice is even deeper than usual. “Sweetheart.”

You cannot think of a snarky reply, not even when he steps back and you can breathe again. You just look at him over your shoulder and make a show of rolling your eyes. He tips his head, regarding you as if oh-so confused by your petulance.

He stands while you kneel. You sit back on your heels and hum to yourself as if bored.

He ignores that, pointing to bed and saying, “Face there, not me.”

You look at him with genuine confusion, once more surprised by his direction, but you do as told. You kneel facing the bed. He gets down on one knee beside you, cups the back of your head and guides you up, off your heels.

“Up, up, up,” he says in too jovial of a tone, so frustratingly Felix. “Hands up here.” He pats the bed with his other hand until you uncross your arms and place them where directed. “That’s it,” he says. “Just like that, sweetheart.”

He stands, leaving you kneeling at the bedside, upright, arms in front of you. Kneeling like a penitent in prayer at their bedside. You look over your shoulder at him, wearing your best and bitchiest expression. There is an irrevocable challenge in your eyes.

Clink.

Your eyes drop to his belt, to the swift flick of leather and metal over his hands as he opens it. He is unhurried, sliding it free of its loops.

But then he does not discard it. He folds it over his hand. Once, twice, three times.

He tips his head. He holds up three fingers, a question.

He knows the significance here. He knows how your insides unravel at the sight of that belt hooked around his fist.

You know he would stop if you said so. If you said the word three, if you held up three fingers, if you tapped three times or did anything else to speak to him. He has given you a voice in every form.

He is standing over you, at once a personification of your pains and fears, and also he is none of them. This does not feel the way it did back then, unwilling and tortured and harmed.

He loves you. And he is trapped with you, and he is carving out holes in the world with you. He is handing you back your life, if only pieces, however he can. You are not a scared little girl under him. You are in control of that pendulum of emotion. There is no power in the things that once scared you. It is a punchline. An inside joke.

You smile at him.

He gets down on one knee again, squeezes the nape of your neck then runs his hand down your spine. Your back arches under his touch, breath staggering into gasps even though all he does is caress you skin.

You jump when he smacks the soft curve of your ass, just the flat of his palm on your skin, but already you are tingling head to toe with pleasure.

“I am responsible for you, yeah?” he says, and smacks you there again. “That means you are mine. You don’t run off, you don’t play games. You do what I say.”

“Or what?” you say, voice already breathy. “You’ll beat me up like you did that brute in the bar?”

You can hear him adjusting the belt, flipping it around his hand for a better grip.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” he asks. “Does it get your pussy wet, watching me hurt them for you?”

You don’t get a chance to answer. Your voice is a feathery-light sound, piercing a gasp when he brings that strip of leather down against your backside.

You squirm. You are already so, so wet.

“Hmm?” he asks, and does it again, a stinging, hot line across your skin. “Is that how it is?”

“I hate you,” you say. You are gripping the blanket, nails digging in. Your back arches at another strike, chest pushing into the bedding.

“Awww…” he says, careless. “Yeah… I know.”

You must be wriggling too much because Felix pins you down with his free hand, your cheek pressed to the blanket. He adjusts his position for a better reach.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says, and snaps the belt across your skin. This one makes you cry out. “I know exactly how you feel about me.”

You cry turns to a watery whine, shaking when he gently sweeps his fingertips across your smarting backside. Your breath snags when he leans in close, breath ghosting your skin.

“I know,” he says. “Because it gets my dick hard. Oh? What’s that? Did that scare you?” He hits you again. “You wanna tell your daddy? Tell him how you’re all wet because your mean bodyguard got a little too, mmm, rough with you?”

He kisses the middle of your back and you shiver.

“Mmm,” he says. “No. You’re not going to do that, are you? You’re going to stay right… here…” He leans back and snaps his wrist again, patting you when the belt sears your skin and you cry out again. “That’s it. You’re gonna take it until you apologize—”

“I’m sorry,” you say, even while tilting your hips, seeking more from him. You can feel how wet you are when you squish your thighs together, hot and slick between them. “I really am.”

“Oh?” he says. “For what?”

“Uhhh—” It turns to another yelp when he hits you again. “F-for disobeying y-you.”

“Why is that bad, sweetheart?”

“B-because—” You don’t even cry out when he does it again. This sound is a pure moan, roughly exhaled into the bed. “Because you’re in charge,” you say breathlessly, voice on the cusp of a sob. You can feel your knees starting to shake. “Y-you’re in charge of me.”

“Am I?”

You hear the belt unravel, the clink of the metal as it hits the floor. He touches you with his bare hand, smoothing his palm over your warm, smarting skin. Every inch of you quivers with the tingling aftershock of the soft touch.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m—I’m yours, Felix.”

There is a moment of quiet when all he does it touch you, gently, a caress across your stinging skin. Your whole body reacts to him, the slightest brush sending floods of heat shooting through you.

He traces a circle on your backside, pinches the warm skin. It makes that sob spill over your lips.

“Say it again,” he says, his voice lower, only just above a whisper.

“I’m yours,” you say just as softly. A tear spills onto the blanket.

“My name.”

“Felix,” you say. “My bodyguard.”

“Yes,” he says, still in that soft voice. He slips his hand down between your legs and you rear up, spreading your thighs, eager to feel him. “I am, aren’t I?” He hardly needs to touch you to feel how wet you are. Just a surface touch wets his fingers with your desire, a slow stroke that makes your knees shake again. “I’m good at it, aren’t I?” he says, and takes his hand back. “At guarding this body. Hmm?”

Another tear spills out. You nod, breathing hard into the blanket.

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat.

He stands up and you lift your head, blinking up at him with big, wet eyes. You can see how hard he is, obscenely bulging behind his fly. It makes your mouth water, makes you press your cheek into the blanket as you stare at him wantingly.

“If I’m not going to hit you,” he says, “then what am I going to do with you?”

His thumb presses at his zipper and he smiles, dimpled and cheeky, and slowly tugs it down. Your knees finally surrender and you sit again, slumped against the bed and reaching between your legs.

“Uh-uh-uh—” he says, diving down to catch your arm.

You groan, wriggling while he scoops you up and deposits you on the bed as easily as tossing a pillow. You shuffle around, making some pitiful blubbery noises as you lay on your sore backside. You rest your head on a pillow, breathing hard, so aware of your body in a way you have never felt before.

Felix takes off his boots while you settle yourself. Then he gets on the bed and kneels at your feet, a vision of sin in his black clothes with his flushed face and heady, dark eyes. He wets his lips, leaves his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he looks at you like a meal offered to a starving man.

“Hold the headboard, sweetheart,” he says, nodding above you.

You do not look away from him, reaching back to grip one of the bars in the headboard. Though your legs are pressed together, you feel the exposure of the vulnerable position, throbbing everywhere he looks at you.

Your breath gets ragged when he moves closer. He takes a pillow, ripping it out of its case and tossing the cushion aside. He flips the soft material of the pillowcase around his fist until it makes a long line like a soft rope.

Then your hands are bound to the headboard. His fingers curl around yours, showing you how to tap, how to talk to him. It registers, even if he immediately distracts you with a wandering hand, slipping down your body to touch and fondle.

Then he is back at your feet, grabbing your ankles and sliding up, up, up until his hands are hooked under your knees and he can spread you open to him.

Your hips buck, your back arches, legs shaking in his steady hold. You are so open to him that it makes you whimper and close your eyes.

They open again when you feel his mouth between your legs, his teasing abruptly finished as he dives in with full commitment. You cry out in relief, with utter ecstasy, noisier than you have ever been as he licks and sucks and strokes. You twitch when he nips at your thighs, when he slips his tongue inside you, when he licks back up then tortures the source of your pent-up need, again and again until you are crying out and coming hard on his tongue.

He lets you finish, takes over that peak and beyond. He lowers your trembling legs, lets you wrap them around his hips. You make a horrible mess of his pants, you are sure, grinding up against the hard material.

“Shhh, shh, shh,” he says, reaching past you to the bedside table.

You hardly have a second to look before he is shoving your balled up panties in your mouth.

“That’s it,” he says, kissing down your neck. “That’s a good girl. Don’t need to think, yeah?”

He sits back on his heels and finally unzips all the way. He shuffles his pants and boxers down past his hips. He smiles, then pushes your legs against you so are nearly folded in half.

“Just—” he says with a soft grunt, pushing at the soft, wet heat of you, so easily sliding inside. “Just—need—to—take it.”

And you do, moaning helplessly into your gag, still sore from your earlier punishment but all that sensation mingling with everything hard and sweet and good between your thighs. Your eyes close and you let yourself float, feeling as he hits all those soft places inside you that make your body keen. When you come again, it is just from that, and a stream of euphoric tears follow as you wrap him between your legs and bring him over the edge with you.

“God,” he says, dropping every trace of his persona, sounding near tears himself as he comes inside you. “God—fucking—You. Oh, sweetheart. Jesus. I—”

His brain sounds as mushy as yours, maybe only marginally smarter because he takes out your gag and releases you from your bondage.

Your arms fall limp around your head and you hum sweetly, literal music moving through you as your whole body aches with pleasant aftershocks.

“We gotta clean you up,” he says softly, from somewhere, stroking your sweaty skin. “And I wanna take care of where I used the—”

“Felix,” you murmur, “if you don’t get over here and kiss me stupid, then I’m gonna take a turn with the belt.”

He laughs, then you feel him stretched out beside you, his arms circling you. You roll into his embrace, throwing your leg around his hip and snuggling into him.

“You still hate me, yeah?” he says after a moment, though how he expects any coherency when he is massaging down your arm like that, you do not know.

But you nod, kissing his chest.

“Of course, you’re my bodyguard,” you say.

You sigh when he smooths his hand over your backside, tenderly caressing the sore skin.

“Yes,” he says. “Always.”

It sounds almost ridiculous to say, but he honestly fucked you so good that you feel like a new woman.

You have a little skip in your step – or maybe it’s a limp – for the next couple days, and it’s cute how it flusters him in the daylight because he knows the cause.

In the mood for a full cleansing, you get the idea to clean out your closet. You toss things around left and right, sorting donations and garbage and pieces you forgot you owned.

You are elbow deep in a pile of old sweaters when your fingers curl around something soft. You yank it out of the pile, hidden away at the very back of your closet. You wonder what it is and why you have not been wearing it when it is so soft—

Peppy music is blaring out of your speakers, your disposition cheery and pleasant as can be. It all gets a little fuzzy when you unfold the sweater and realize it is Jisung’s hoodie, the one he gave you that last night you left his house.

You and Felix are meeting Jeongin and Seungmin after class today, a usual coffee at your usual café while you do the finishing touches on your semester project. Having friends and a lover and a future you can almost see, can almost imagine controlling if only in your own special way, makes you realize how far you have come.

Things have changed. You have changed. You have forgotten a lot about high school. You don’t really remember faces, or the things that had you stressed, or half the arguments with your father. You were obsessed with Lee Minho for years but, frankly, you can hardly remember what he looked like.

But you touch the hoodie and you can feel your best friend, solid as if he was still sitting beside you. When you lift it to your chest, you swear you can faintly smell the lingering trace of him, that boyish body spray that was probably baked into everything he owned but that you stopped noticing because you were around him so much.

It is the smell that overwhelms you. In a matter of moments, your face is buried in the hoodie and you are crying, and you don’t know if it’s because you’re happy or because you’re not.

Felix comes running, stumbling to a stop in your closet door and looking at you with alarm.

“Sweetheart?” he says, crouching down beside you. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say, because you don’t know what to say. You lift your head and look at him, face streaked with tears. He wipes them immediately, a gentle back and forth, soothing you until your crying is just a mere hiccup. “I’m sorry,” you say, wiping your face on your sleeve. “I don’t know why I still get so worked up.”

“About what?” Felix asks.

You open the hoodie and recognition lights up in his eyes.

“Jisung,” he says.

“You recognize it?” you say, a bit surprised.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, and looks at you with a dimpled grin. “You were wearing this the first night we—”

“Right,” you say with a watery giggle.

You look back down and sniffle some more, blinking back another onslaught of tears. You run your hand over the material while Felix rubs a soothing circle on your back.

“Why is it so hard to let go?” you ask softly. “When I have people here, now... When I have a future and…” You trail off, voice breaking. You wipe your face again.

“I don’t know,” Felix says, sounding as morose. His gaze wanders. You can see his own mental space shift as he goes somewhere far away. “I guess…” He rubs the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “One person can’t, uh, really replace another, I guess. And he was your friend. It’s different.” He swallows. “You can’t just let go of love. Not… not easily.”

“I guess not,” you say. You trace a circle on the material with your thumb. You sigh. “I should get ready for school.”

“Yeah,” Felix says, voice breaking too. He clears his throat and stands. “Do you need anything?”

You shake your head, hugging the hoodie to your chest and staring straight ahead.

“No,” you say softly. “Thank you, Felix.”

You are a little too distracted with your own thoughts and grief to notice his own solemn disposition. He does not hold it against you, though, as you are distracted for the rest of the day. The cause is reasonable enough.

You are sitting in the library with Felix and your friends, working on your project but distracted, when you lift your head and spot the library computers.

You have not looked for Jisung anywhere, not online or in person, far too terrified your father would find out and track him down and kill him. You remember his rage. You know how serious he was.

But that seems far away now, not the same nightmarish terror that haunted your every shaking step. Now you are staring at the campus computers with a more calculating air. You realize there is no way to trace any searches back to you if they are made on a public server.

Felix looks up when you stand, shooting you a questioning look. You just point to the computers and he nods, slouching back in his seat again.

You feel a little queasy, maybe from the tumultuous feelings of the day. Maybe plain worry. Until now, you could pretend Jisung was fine, but what if he isn’t? God, what if your father went after him anyway? What if something else happened? What if he got worse after you left him on that hospital bed? You are sick with the thought.

The world needs him. You need him. Even far away, even without seeing or touching him, because your friendship does not require that. It can be words on a page, tucked away in a yearbook that you read on your worst days when you need a reason to keep fighting.

And so you search. You find results faster than you thought. It turns out Jisung has been writing music. He is very underground and indie, it seems. He does not have a huge collection of followers, but his artistry has stirred interest nonetheless. You find his social media profiles without much struggle, as well as his soundcloud and professional profiles. It looks like he works part time at a grocery store while making music.

You click through his profiles, smiling at some of his goofy pictures and videos. There are some click-bait short videos with dramatic fonts slashed over his face, saying things like GIRLFRIEND DRAMA!! and GAY RIVALS??

You click on a couple. It’s just videos where he talks to the camera, but he’s so funny that it feels like miniature stand-up routines. Some of these videos get more views than his music.

It looks like he had a girlfriend for a while, then a boyfriend, which is probably not too surprising when you remember he was obsessed with Hyunjin.

He says exactly that in his video, laughing as he runs his hands through his hair, black-painted nails stark against the lighter dyed locks.

“Yeah…” he says, laughing awkwardly, “Turns out most people don’t have an arch-nemesis that occupies their every thought in their horny teenage years. Who knew, right?”

The comment sections are all a bit chaotic, as comment sections are often a no-man’s land of anarchy, but it feeds the algorithm so he lets the public run amok. It does not seem to ruffle his feathers.

You scroll until you see a video with the words BEST FRIEND? It is the only video where he turned the comments off.

You are not sure what you are expecting. It has been years. This video could be about anyone. He has more friends, quite a lot by the look of it.

His video starts with that very message.

“I know it’s hard to believe since I am, like, so insanely beautiful and funny and popular and talented now,” he says with a goofy drawl, grinning at the camera, “but I used to be like… the loser. Not even a loser, no way, man, I’m an overachiever. I mean the loser. I did not have any friends but, like, I didn’t even have any enemies either, like what’s a guy got to do to get bullied around here? I was just, you know, kinda invisible I guess… Hard to believe I developed issues and became an online clout-chaser like whoo-hoo…”

You shake your head, smiling in spite of yourself. The Jisung on camera is wearing glasses, his hair longer than you remember. His shoulders are broader and he looks good, healthy.

He rubs his shoulder as he gazes past the camera, looking wistful.

“I had one friend, though, eventually,” he says. “I used to think she was kinda scary but, also, to be fair, I thought everything was scary back then haha… I mean, not haha, you know I was… It was rough. I was like ready to end it all, man… Times were hard! Teenage angst, you know, nothing like it! But she, uh…”

He looks at the camera and it makes your spine straighten. This was posted a year ago. He is not actually talking to you, but for a moment he feels present.

“She was really good at seeing people,” he says. “I think, maybe, that’s because she wanted for someone to see her too. But, like, that’s hard to ask for… And even harder to accept when you finally have it. She would run away just as fast as she would want attention, haha. But at the same time… You know, she got it. She got me. We got each other. Until then, neither of us had ever really—you know, we didn’t really have good families and stuff, we didn’t have friends. I talk about firsts a lot, and, you know, every one makes a deal out of their first kiss and their first lay and stuff but like… Your first friend...”

You pause the video for a second, blinking so you don’t cry in the library. You briefly glance at Felix, Jeongin, and Seungmin. Jeongin has predictably strayed from his studies, showing Felix something on his hand console. Seungmin throws a pencil at them.

You smile then look back at the screen, hitting play.

“It changes you, you know?” Jisung says. “Especially at that age, you know, when you’re growing and stuff… You kinda learn from each other. Even though we super different, in some ways we were the same, and I think I still… um, carry her with me. It sounds cheesy but it’s true. I was a stupid softy but her…! She never took anyone’s shit! And I got better at that, and I think it was because of her. We, um, we didn’t exactly have a falling out— Life just— Sometimes life isn’t fair. And she was… she was kinda in a bad spot. And at the time I felt like I let her down, because I couldn’t get her out. Of course, now I’m like, yo, we were both kids, haha, how the fuck was I gonna do that anyway… And before we said goodbye, you know, she told me I did save her, and I didn’t really know what she meant at the time. But when I realized how much of her was still with me all the time, every day, how much she taught me to get me where I am today… I got it. I still wish I could have done more, but I get it. And I mean, um, hey, if you’re out there—”

You are startled into greater attention when he looks directly in the eye of the camera. You realize he is speaking to you, across space and time, as surely as a scribble in your yearbook or a laugh in your memory.

“I don’t know if you’ll ever see this,” he says. “But I, uh, I told you once a best friend promise is forever. Ten years, twenty years, fifty years, you know… hit me up. But, um, even if you don’t… even if you can’t…”

He takes a breath and shakes his shoulders, wiggling like he would do when he was trying not to cry. He exhales and smiles. You can see all the emotion behind that smile, grief and hope alike.

“I just hope you’re happy,” he says. “I am. And that’s partly because of you. So if you ever need a reason, or an excuse, or whatever to be happy… This is it. Thank you for… for everything I guess. I loved you so much that it made me love the whole world just because you were in it. So I don’t need anything else from you, but if you could be happy for me… Yeah. That, uh, that would be good.”

He pauses, purses his lips, then he laughs a very watery laugh.

“Okay!” he says. “I’m gonna go cry now like a big baby. Love you all! Bye! See you next time. Oh yeah, stream Volcano! Bye!”

You end up laughing through your tears, Jisung being so incredibly Jisung. You glance back at Felix and your friends, watching them try to keep their laughter down as they snicker over something in Jeongin’s game. Seungmin has his big puppy grin on and Jeongin’s dimple are so deep as glee pours off him.

Felix looks so delighted and carefree, his whole face glowing like it was touched by a drop of sunshine.

You want this.

Now. Always.

Oh, Jisung, you think to yourself. How many times are you going to save me?

You open a new window and make a profile on the website. Fortunately, Jisung allows private messages from accounts he does not follow. You just hope he clicks on the message despite the blank profile. You cannot have anything public that would give you away in any capacity.

But you open the private message and you write, and you hope it reaches him, even after you have closed the window and walked away, head high with your purpose and a newfound determination to fulfill his only wish for you.

To the bestest most awesome boy in the world, from the bestest most awesome girl in the world.

I think I have that whole note memorized by now. I don’t know you even remember these words, but it was how you started your message in my yearbook.

I know it’s been a long time but I wanted to reach out. My situation hasn’t really changed, so it’s still not safe to see you properly, which is why I’m messaging this way. I’m sorry for that. But I saw your video where you said you were happy, and I just wanted to say how glad I am. You deserve the world, Jisungie. I hope you know how much it loves you back. How much I love you back.

I have friends and even a boyfriend now. I don’t think I would have any of it if not for you. I think I am starting to be happy, but truth be told I don’t really know what that is supposed to feel or look like. But I think I am starting to understand. I think I know what I have to do.

I’m going to get out. I am going to get my love out too. I have been waiting and wallowing, but I’m not going to do that anymore. I want to be happy, whatever that looks like.

Thank you for saving me when you did. Now it’s time for me to save myself.

You also gave me the world and I love it a little more everyday. I hope someday soon I can see more of it. If I’m lucky, maybe I will see you too, but even if we never meet face-to-face again, know I carry you with me too. A best friend promise is a forever promise, right?

Take care, Jisung. Keep fighting. Be happy.

Love,

Your best friend.

Now and always.

♡

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix smut #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #skz x reader

696 notes · View notes

mochie85 · 11 months

Note

hi! congrats on 1000! 🍾💚

angsty/fluffy drabble inspired by prompt #26 (“I can’t stand not talking to you”) and this gif?

Midsummer Pining

1K Masterlist One-shot Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: It's summer in Asgard and you and your brother, Hogun, have come to stay with the royal family for the season before you are presented to society. A/N: Part of my 1K celebration. I wanna give a shout-out to @shadeysprings for helping me BETA and giving me ideas on how to finish. Also, a shout-out to @michelleleewise for letting me bounce ideas back and forth. And a big thank you to @infinitystoner for sending in the request! Pairing: Asgard!Loki x Vanaheim!Female Reader Word Count: 4,542 (it's a long one) Warnings: Fluff, angst Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

The heat from Asgard’s sun was piercing. These were rare days indeed when the temperature outside was too sweltering to do anything but laze about.

You had followed your brother, Hogun, from Vanaheim for the summer. You had done so every summer since you were young. This was the first year when your parents hadn’t accompanied either of you. They thought that Hogun was old enough to watch out for the well-being of his younger sister.

And you were horrified to find out that they were correct. Hogun had not left your side since you arrived. Only having privacy when you retired to your quarters for the night. It made things especially difficult to garner the attention of the younger prince of Asgard.

Ever since you started visiting the palace as children, you had always stayed with Loki. At first, it was because the two of you were younger compared to the other children. They would lump the two of you together while they played soldiers or other activities. But then Loki started seeking you out. Showing you tricks with his seidr that the Allmother had shown him.

You were instantly besotted with him. How could you not? A magical prince who sought out your company? Any young girl would fall head over heels. And you’ve been falling ever since.

You thought that since this was the first summer without your parent’s supervision, you would have the courage to confess your feelings towards Loki, once and for all.

However, you weren’t the only one seeking his attention. Other ladies of the court had decided that this was the season to try and catch themselves a royal match. You’ve been hesitant and non-too eager to fight for his attention. Only offering it up when he sought you out. Especially under the watch of your overbearing brother.

You missed him. You missed your best friend in the palace. The one who would spend hours just creating life-like images to make you smile. The one you would sneak into the sculleries with for a sweet treat. You missed your riding partner in the early mornings before breakfast. Just the quiet solitude of the two of you.

“Brother, you’re worse than an old nursemaid,” you said one morning as he escorted you from your quarters.

“What do you mean? I am only looking out for my younger, most cherished sister.”

“You are scaring off everyone. Even mother would let me off to play with Loki. You wouldn’t even let me give my best friend a hug when we arrived.”

“Oh, so that’s what this is? Afraid that I’m getting in the way of your little romance?”

“You tease me! Take that back!”

“Mother and father have charged me with your care, and I take that responsibility seriously. Just because they are not here does not mean you can do whatever you wish.”

“All I wish is to have my friend back. Surely, you’ve missed out on trips with the others just by watching me. You cannot be having as pleasant of a time as you ought to be.” You avowed. You knew you struck a chord when Hogun’s eyes marginally widened, and a quiet hum left his throat.

“Do you not think I am capable of watching myself? Just one day, brother. I will show you there is nothing to worry about and that I will behave as a well-raised young lady should.”

“Alright. One day. Today,” he finally relented. You jumped up and down excitedly. Already making plans of what you and Loki would be doing today. “And I do think you’re capable, sister. I trust you. It’s the others I don’t trust.”

“Spoken like a true parent. Now go on! Go be with your friends. I will join you for supper later.” You practically pushed your brother away as he smiled and hurried along toward Thor and the warriors.

You found Loki in the dining hall, breaking his fast along with Lady Bisley. She was animatedly talking to Loki as he tried to enjoy his food. Loki didn’t look too enthused about having to spend his morning entertaining one of his mother’s friend’s daughters.

“Your Highness,” you called behind him.

“Ah, Lady Grimm. How wonderful it is to see you.” He greeted you with a hopeful smile and a side eye towards Lady Bisley.

“Her Majesty, your mother, requested I retrieve you. It seems she had something urgent to speak to you about.”

“Well, there you have it. Excuse me, Lady Bisley,” Loki stood up and bowed as he hurriedly excused himself from her presence. You curtseyed and followed a couple of steps behind him, watching his fingers run through his hair. He rounded the corner and you followed steadily, not wanting to attract attention.

As soon as you walked around the corner, Loki grabbed your wrist and pulled you hurriedly along the corridors. Soft giggles and peals of laughter could be heard as you ran past servants. You escaped into the back gardens of the castle and Loki didn’t stop running until you both got behind the gardener’s shed.

You laughed and panted as you tried catching your breath. Loki looked at you with a knowing gaze. “Thank you for saving me from that droning harpy,” he breathed as he steadied himself.

“Saved you? The Allmother really is looking for you Loki,” you spoke. Loki stood up promptly with a worried look on his face. “I jest! I jest!” you laughed when he tried to make his way back to the palace.

Loki’s face fell at having fallen for your trick but soon started laughing with you. He tucked a strand of your hair back behind your ear and soon the heat from the summer weather couldn’t compare to what you felt inside.

It’s now or never, you thought. “Actually, Loki, there is something that I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“What is it, darling?” he asked, leaning against the wall of the shed. He held your hand in his as he pulled you closer to him. “Your hair is untamable,” he laughed placing another strand behind your ear. “The same spirit as you I suppose,” he said smiling, making your heart race. You couldn’t look him in the eyes any longer. His stare made you weak in the knees.

“I’ve grown fond of you, Loki. And not just in a friendly way, but more…intimately.” You annunciated the syllables slowly. The word ticking off your tongue.

His fingers paused behind your ear. He looked straight into your eyes but yours were downcast. A pointed silence hung in the air and you were tempted to look up at him, but you couldn’t. You didn’t dare see the mocking expression he might have at the news of your affection.

“Intimately?” he repeated. “As in, romantically? Darling, we’ve known each other for years. You’ve been my best friend…”

“I know, Loki. And all this time…”

“All this time?” he questioned. His voice rose a few octaves. All this time he could’ve been closer to you. He could’ve held you the way he longed to. All this time…you could’ve been his. “Why now?”

Why now after your brother had specifically told him at the beginning of the season to stay away from you? That your parents wished for you to find a suitor. Why couldn’t it have been him? The timing of it all made him angry at the situation he found himself in.

His questioning wasn’t anything you were prepared for. At best, you dreamt that he would kiss you, take you in his arms, and profess his love for you too. At worst, you dreaded that he would mock you and your feelings and pretend to ignore you for the rest of your time here. But this? This was unexpected. Was he angry with you? Was this his way of saying he wasn’t interested?

You took your hands back from him quickly. “I apologize, your highness. I see now that I have overstepped my bounds. Forgive me. It was all a jest.” You hurriedly said and turned to run away.

Your chest hurt. Your breathing was sharp and painful as you ran the distance back to the palace. Loki called out your name behind you, but you didn’t listen. You didn’t stop. You didn’t want him to see the fresh tears falling down your cheek. The same cheek that had burned from his touch on your skin moments ago.

As Hogun escorted you to the dining hall for supper, you noticed the wide smile on his face. “I’m glad you had fun with your friends today, brother.”

“I did. All thanks to your persistence,” he answered back. “I heard that you’ve been busy yourself, today.”

“Y-you have?”

“I heard from the servants you’ve been running around the palace. Is this a game you’ve been playing with His Highness?”

You’ve been successfully hiding from Loki since this morning. Managing to slip by him only seconds before he entered a room. He was relentless in his pursuit of you. Which scared you even more. The last thing you needed was his wrath coming down on you.

“No. I think he has outgrown our childhood relationship. I had not been with him all day.” You said dejectedly. Hogun detected a hint of sadness in your voice.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Perhaps you might want to spend time with us for a while. I know Lady Sif has been asking for an opponent worth her time. I know no better mace-wielder than you.”

“Not even His Royal Highness, Thor?” You lightheartedly spoke.

“I might be a little biased.” Hogun smiled and he squeezed your hand. You entered the dining hall to find Loki surrounded by several members of the court. Ladies dressed as if they were in a grand ball, all vying for his attention. He was talking indifferently about something, looking agitated and wanting better company.

You looked away, not wanting to see it anymore. He always loved being the center of attention. He was getting that now from others. He didn’t need you tagging along with him.

Loki looked up at the sound of joyous laughter from the opposite end of the room. Thor and his friends welcomed you and Hogun to the table. He quickly excused himself from the menagerie of coifed women and made his way over to the table.

“Brother!” Thor yelled in a booming voice. “Sit, sit. Look who has also joined us?” Thor said pointing to you. You tried to keep your discomfort to a minimum as you felt Loki sit by your side. You felt trapped, now that you couldn’t run away. The scent of his cologne lingered towards you, tempting you to look in his direction.

“You’ve been so popular with the court ladies ever since Father announced your eligibility last year, Loki.” Thor started.

“Yes, pretty soon you’ll have more admirers than Fandral himself,” Volstagg teased.

“Didn’t you debut this year?” Sif asked you.

“Not yet, but I will. On my birthday later this year. As is the tradition in our family.” You cleared your throat. “I am to travel around the realms in the meantime, in hopes of catching someone’s eye. Like bait, apparently.” You said that last sentence as a whisper, more to yourself. But the group had heard it, nonetheless.

“Oh, but you’ll make beautiful bait,” Fandral teased.

“Yes, make all the other baits jealous,” Volstagg added making everyone, including you, laugh.

“Has anyone caught your eye, dear Lady Grimm?” Thor asked. Your cheeks heated. You opened and closed your mouth, not knowing how to answer.

“Darling, would you like to go riding with me tomorrow morning? You know, for old time’s sake.” Loki asked next to you. His voice snapped you out of your pondering.

You answered without looking at him, “Unfortunately your highness, I had promised Lady Sif that we would train together tomorrow morning.”

“We are?” Sif questioned aloud. You raised your eyebrow and looked at her decidedly. “Yes, we are!” She agreed.

“Perhaps, afterward?” Loki tried again.

“I’m afraid I might be too fatigued for good company, your highness.”

“It’s Loki. You’ve never been so formal with me before,” he joked. “And that will be perfect. We could sit in the library, and I could show you some of the newer volumes we’ve acquired.”

“Regrettably, I’ve already seen them earlier today, your highness…”

“It’s Loki,” he asserted once again, a slight irritation showing on his face. You nodded and looked away, slightly agitated. The rest of the group could feel the tension between the two of you. You and Loki were as thick as thieves, and they had never witnessed either of you at odds with each other.

“I apologize, your majesties. I seem to have overwhelmed myself today. I think I’ll retire early tonight. If you’ll excuse me,” you asked standing, looking straight at Thor who gave you a confused nod.

“Let me escort you back, milady.” Loki offered, standing.

“No, please. Stay and enjoy your time…with the others. I’m sure they can offer you far better company than I could.” You left quickly without seeing Loki’s eyes. Without having once looked up.

“What have you done to my sister?” Hogun stood up and faced Loki.

“Me?! Why do you assume it was my fault?” Loki fired back.

“Was it her fault?” Fandral asked pointing to where you had escaped.

“We’ve never seen the two of you argue before. It’s quite unsettling.” Volstagg said.

“Oh, I am so sorry to have put you off your third helping,” Loki provoked. “And if anyone’s to blame for her demeanor it should be you, Hogun. I’ve done exactly as you’ve asked and kept my distance from her this season and look at where it’s gotten us.”

“Hogun!” Sif rebuked him. “They are best friends. How could you ask him to do that?”

“That’s exactly why I asked. She doesn’t see anybody but you, Loki.” Hogun said pointing to him. “And if she was to have any agreeable match, she needs to start seeing who else might be available.”

“So the second prince of Asgard is not good enough for a noble lady of Vanaheim, is that it?” Loki yelled out loud.

“Loki, that is not what Hogun said.” Thor cautioned.

“Are you more than just friends, Loki? Are you ready to break that cycle, possibly ruin your friendship forever with her if it doesn’t work out between you two?” Hogun asked earnestly.

Loki huffed, an internal struggle brewing in his thoughts. “If you are not sincere in your affection toward my sister, then I don’t think you should be around her,” Hogun concluded.

Loki left in a seething rage. How dare they insinuate that he didn’t care about you. Of course, he cared about you! Of course, he thought about what would happen if you two ever got together. It’s been plaguing his mind since the first time he showed you his seidr and you looked at him like he gave you the world- in the palm of his hands. He couldn’t risk the wonderful friendship that you two had on a fleeting romance. Because that’s all it would ever be, wouldn’t it? Fleeting? All his thoughts and worries finally came to light, and it hurt that he couldn’t talk to his best friend about it.

The two of you stayed away from each other for the rest of the summer. You threw yourself into training and reading. During supper, you ate with Lady Sif and The Warriors Three to stave off the loneliness you felt inside.

But it wasn’t enough, every now and then you would hear a loud uproar of laughter coming from a group of women and men. And at the center of it all, was Loki. He always had a group of people around him. You’ve even caught him arm-to-arm with a lady or two after supper as they disappeared into the dark hallways towards his chambers. It was clear that Loki did not return your affections. Nor did he require your attention anymore.

Loki had kept his distance from you, as agreed. But his eyes and thoughts couldn’t hold the same promise. Every night he would try to distract himself by having various company. Sometimes he would be in a room full of people, all having fun, but he would feel this ache in his heart. He could feel the lack of your presence.

The last night of the season was upon you. Tomorrow you would head to Midgard for a month before returning home to Vanaheim. You were laying in bed hoping that Loki would finally come to you, at least to say goodbye, but he hadn’t. And thus cemented the pain of having lost your best friend indefinitely.

“Are you happy to be home?” Hogun asked breathing in the fresh mountain air. You looked sullenly at the green canopy of the trees. The lush carpet of moss and grass at your horse’s feet. The once-bright colors of your home seem to have faded. Perhaps it was just the morning haze creeping in. But deep down you knew why the world lost its color for you.

“Don’t look so glum, sister. Soon the snow will start falling and Saturnalia will be with us once again. You’ve always loved that holiday.” Your lack of response worried Hogun.

“Your birthday will be here soon.” He tried again, hoping to break your glum reverie. “Then, you’ll finally be presented to society.” Your face had become even dourer as you were reminded that the only person you wanted to be with, didn’t want to be with you.

You galloped faster on your steed, hoping to hide the disappointment on your face from your brother. The small troupe you had traveled with went ahead and announced your return. You could see a small welcome in the front gardens along with many other servants preparing for your arrival.

You dismounted and handed your reigns over to the stable hand as you ascended the stairs to your home. “There she is! Welcome home, my darling girl!” Your father said as you stepped through the front foyer.

“Papa! I’ve missed you!” You said bounding into his arms and he gave you a big hug in return.

“I trust your brother has taken care of you.” He added holding you at arm’s length and taking you all in.

You rolled your eyes and nodded. “Where’s mama?”

Just then your mother walked in from the side garden, arm in arm with Loki. You silently gasped a lungful of air and stopped breathing. He was charming your mother as she laughed. His bright smile and gleaming eyes made him look achingly handsome.

“My dear! Oh, how I’ve missed you!” your mother said letting go of Loki’s arm and striding towards you to give you a hug. You had not taken your eyes off Loki. He had not taken his eyes off you either. What was he doing here?

“Milady,” Loki said nodding to you behind your mother. “I trust your journey was fruitful. Did you have a good time on Midgard?”

“I did. Thank you, your highness,” you replied back curtseying.

“What’s with you two?” your father pointed out. “You act as if you didn’t have centuries between you.”

Your mother just watched, all-knowing as she grabbed your father’s hand. “Dear, why don’t we give them time to catch up.” Your mother said as she led him further into the house.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, your grace?” you asked boldly.

“Thor and I are here for your birthday celebrations of course. We have been invited and are the official ambassadors from Asgard.” Loki said with a proud smile.

“Your presence is most welcome, your Highness.” You curtseyed again, refusing to look him in his eyes.

“Are we still doing that?”

“Doing what? Pray, tell?” you said through gritted teeth.

“Pretending, as your father said, that we don’t have centuries between us.” The audacity!

“Forgive me, your highness.” You curtsied again, barely containing your irritation. “How shall I act? Shall I just hang on to your every word? Simper over you like one of your debutantes in search of your match? Shall I giggle or bat my lashes in your presence? Perhaps then maybe I would be worthy of your attention.”

“Darling…”

“And now, is it not enough that you ignore me the entire season, but you decide to try and torture me IN MY OWN HOME…”

Loki kissed you.

He grabbed your face in between his hands and placed his lips over yours. Your eyes widened in shock as one of his hands traveled down to your hips, holding you in place. He smelled like sunlight and the peonies from your garden. He tasted like the berries growing from underneath your bedroom window. And he felt like…he felt like home.

You gave into his kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him tighter to you. His whole body visibly eased in your embrace. Settling into your arms and molding his body against yours.

“It was torture for me too. To have you so close and not be able to do anything about it,” he breathed as he placed his forehead to yours. “I can’t stand not talking to you. I’ve missed you so much. Every night, I’ve wanted to go to you. I would get as far as your door but stop short of knocking.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“You, my darling, are a lot braver than I am. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. But when you confessed your feelings towards me, I must admit I was angry. Not at you!” he tried to placate seeing your worried face.

“Your brother had expressed that I give you space to find yourself and to perhaps find a suitor. And you couldn’t do that if you were spending your days with your best friend. I was angry at the fact that I couldn’t be that for you. That no one thought I could be that for you. I wasn’t brave enough to stand up for you and my feelings.”

“My brother asked you to stay away?” You were filled with jumbled emotions. Excitement, shyness, anger, confusion. You held your hand against Loki’s face. The one face you longed to see every day. The one your heart ached for when you were apart.

“Loki I…” you started but stopped short when you heard Hogun enter the front foyer laughing animatedly with Thor.

“Awe, it looks like they made up! See, I told you it would all work out in the end!” Thor said clapping Hogun on the back of his shoulder.

Now it was your turn to be angry. “HOGUN!!!” You yelled turning to him.

Hogun knew that face. Your brows were slanted in anger, the fire in your eyes was fueled by wrath, and nothing could calm you down until you had gotten it out of your system. “You are lucky I do not possess the power to call forth my weapon like Thor can, or else I would make it go through YOUR HEAD!”

“I better…” Hogun started saying, backing out into the front steps again.

“Run.” You finished his sentence for him, chasing him out with a conjured mace, thanks to Loki.

“Loki, I don’t think you should have given her that,” Thor said to him as they watched you battle on the front lawn.

“Just look at her go,” Loki said in wonder. “She is breathtaking, is she not?”

It was the night of your birthday party, and the entire manor was in a flurry of chaos. Last-minute flowers were added to vases and servants were running around with large platters of petit fours. You had begged your mother not to go overboard. Her plans to introduce you to society were irrelevant now that Loki had come back into your life.

You were leaning against a pillar, your forehead on your arm, exhausted. “Mother, it’s just one night. All of this is ridiculous. I have already made my decision.”

“And it’s a good decision. But now the entire realm needs to know of it too. An announcement worthy of the Prince,” she concluded turning back to you.

But you had already disappeared. Loki had quietly grabbed your waist and led you down to the back gardens. As soon as you felt the cool breeze of the night sky, Loki grabbed your hands and ran, escaping the hurried frenzy of tonight’s activities.

He looked back at you, smiling. The skirts of your gown flitted in the air creating a cloud behind you. He stopped when you had reached the back stables, panting and looking to see if your mother had caught you.

You giggled into his arms. “Thank you,” you said as he wrapped himself around you. “I don’t understand why everyone is making such a big fuss about it,” you whined. These stolen moments away from the prying eyes of your family were few and far between.

“Why stop them from celebrating you? I know I want to,” he said softly, taming your hair behind your ears. You smiled at him, reaching up for a stolen kiss.

“And that is all I require for my birthday. That is all I wish for. You and me.”

“Then you shall have it!” Loki proclaimed bowing formally to you. “I am Loki. Odinson. Prince of Asgard. God of mischief. And I offer myself as your birthday present.”

He looked up at you through the curtain of his lashes, a suggestive smile breaking through, making you bite your lip. “I shall be by your side the rest of the night. You and I, together.”

“Must we attend? Can’t we just lay here and watch the stars?” you said toying with the leather collar of his armor. “There are a multitude of other things we could be doing,” you teased.

Loki chuckled at your boldness. He pushed you against the wall of the stables and caged you within his embrace. “Shall I give you the rest of your present? Here? Now?” His body pressed hard against yours. You stretched your neck to look up at him and his devious eyes. He traced his nose along your temple. Down your cheek, towards your neck, inhaling your perfume.

You felt light-headed and awakened. As if your skin was inflamed. “Your birthday was traditionally set for you to be introduced into society. Let your parents introduce you…”

“But Loki-” you moaned.

“…as my intended.” He kissed your neck. Your pulse fluttered under his soft lips. “Don’t you want all the realms to know who you’ve chosen? Who has claimed your heart?”

“Yes,” you said breathlessly.

“I give myself to you. Claim me and I shall do the same for you tonight.” He whispered his promise. One he seals with his teeth grazing against your skin.

"Lady Grimm!"

Both of you looked up at the sound of your name being called. It was your mother’s servant passing by as he sought you out.

“Save your first dance for me,” Loki said escorting you back towards the party.

“I’ll save all my dances for you,” you said as you pulled him along with you.

🏷️ @emarich7 @coldnique @vickie5446 @psychospore @mukagentropy @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallows @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine

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babydollmarauders · 1 year

Text

KIDS — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

FAITHLYNN’S 500 CELLY!

🌷: “They’re not your kids, back the f*ck off.” & “That was kind of hot.” & “How is my wife more badass than me?” with Jack.

warnings: toxic mother (readers mom), profanity

as a mom, one of my biggest pet peeves is when someone else tries to parent my children. it happens most often with my own mother. she and i never had a great relationship, and i thought it may get better now that i have my own kids, but i was wrong, it’s only gotten worse.

she makes passive aggressive comments about Jack and i’s parenting choices, tries to undermine my decisions, and has even completely disregarded my words completely. but the real cherry on top is what’s happening right now.

Jack just got back from a roadie, and he was spending time with the kids when my mom showed up at our house. when i asked her what she was doing here, she said that she ‘thought i might need some help with the kids while Jack slept’. which rubbed me the wrong way because first of all, she knows he always sleeps on the plane so that he can play with Eli and Luella when he gets home; and second of all, she acts as if i don’t take care of my children all on my own the entire time he’s traveling.

“mom, what the hell?” i stage whisper, standing across from her in the kitchen. i glance out the kitchen doorway towards the living room, where Jack lays on the floor on his stomach, between our four year old and two year old, coloring with them. “you know full well that we’re perfectly fine.”

“well, i just wasn’t sure. you know, he spends so little time with them already, and he just got back from a long trip, i figured he would be tired. so i came over to take care of them so he could sleep.” she feigns innocence, raising her hands up in mock surrender.

“do you realize how bad he already feels about being away from them? he does the best that he can in order to spend as much time with them as possible, and you coming here, just assuming that he’d be giving up any time he has with them, is rude and disrespectful.” i tell her.

“well now that i’m here, i’d like to spend some time with my grandchildren.” she says.

“fine. whatever.” i storm out of the kitchen, and Jack’s head pops up when i walk back into the living room. his eyebrows raise at the sight of my irritated expression and i shake my head to tell him that i don’t wanna talk about it. his attention is pulled away when Eli calls for him, telling him to look at his drawing, and Jack praises our son’s art skills.

my mother follows me into the living room, and Luella stands to come show me her picture.

“look! mommy!” i crouch down, looking at her page of multicolored scribbles.

“it’s amazing, Lu! you did such a good job!” i tell her, my smile wide as i clap for her. she giggles and turns to show her grandmother the drawing, but my mom pays no attention to the art.

“oh, Luella.” my mother scolds. “look at your pretty dress, it’s all covered in popsicle. you have got to be more careful. and you shouldn’t have been eating a popsicle this early in the day.”

i roll my eyes. she can’t even help criticizing a two year old.

“she wanted one after lunch, and she did a good job with her food, so we gave her one, mom.” i tell her, my tone hostile.

“you need to stop giving them so much sugar.” she replies. “no wonder they have trouble listening. all that sugar and barely any adult supervision”

“they’re not your kids, back the fuck off.” i say lowly through a passive aggressive smile. “they have trouble listening sometimes because they’re children. and they have plenty of adult supervision.”

“i’m just trying to help you, y/n. lord knows you could use it.” she huffs. my eyes go wide as i look at Jack to see if he heard that, and i know he did because the muscle in his jaw ticks from clenching it. but i know he won’t say anything because he doesn’t want to offend his mother-in-law.

“Jack.” my words are sweet, but venom drips from my voice, and i square my shoulders to prepare for an argument. “can you please take Luella to get changed? and take Eli with you.”

my husband jumps up at my words, corralling our kids into Lu’s room.

“what the fuck is your problem?” my tone is harsh as i attempt to keep my voice down. “those are my children. if i needed your help, i would ask for it. i’m sick and tired of you coming over here and making comments about our parenting or judging my husband for how he takes care of our family. Jack loves his job. he loves hockey. and yes, he has to leave sometimes, for a week at most, but he is the best father to our children.”

“y/n-” she starts.

“no! i’m not done. if you want to continue to be a part of their lives, you’re going to stop with the passive aggressive comments. you’re going to quit undermining our authority. and for the love of god, you are going to stop criticizing my children! you already fucked up my childhood and i will not let you ruin theirs.” i’m nearly yelling at this point, my anger reaching new levels. “do i make myself clear?”

my mother huffs, eyeing me up and down before nodding.

“good. now i’d like for you to leave. i would like to spend time with my children, whom i love very much, and their amazing and selfless father.” i tell her. my mom spins around, stalking towards the front door and i don’t move until i hear the door shut. it’s then that i finally let my shoulders slump, heaving out a deep sigh.

Jack steps out of the kids room, the children trailing after him as he makes his way over to me. his hands grip my waist as he pulls me against him, a smirk gracing his lips.

“that was kind of hot. like, seriously, how is my wife more badass than me?” he leans down, pulling me in for a kiss. his lips are soft and taste like the grape popsicle he shared with Luella earlier. “you did great, baby.”

“you think so? i wasn’t too harsh?” i ask, tears stinging my eyes.

“no. you said what needed to be said. i’m so proud of you for standing up to her.” he mutters against my lips.

“thank you, babe.”

#faithlynn’s 500 celly!#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fic #nj devils #new jersey devils #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl blurb #faithlynn’s writings <3

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

Text

“We should probably just do vanilla cake, right?”

“Our daughter is not boring. She should have confetti cake.”

“Vanilla isn’t boring!”

“It’s literally called being vanilla when someone doesn’t like a little fun in the bedroom, Steve.”

“First of all, don’t call me that. Second of all, she’s turning one. She’s not gonna care. She’s never had most of this stuff.”

“So her first adventure with it should be fun!”

Steve and Eddie had been arguing about Ella’s first birthday for a month now. It was starting to become an issue as it was two weeks away and they’d planned nothing except for the guest list.

Even Robin was starting to get worried they wouldn’t be able to pull it off.

“What if we let her pick?”

“She’s one.”

“Yeah, and? We give her two options on pieces of paper and she picks one.”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“Why?”

“Because what if she picks princess plates but dinosaur decorations?”

“Why can’t she have both?”

Steve glared at him.

“I’m just saying, she’s one. This party is more for us than her, and she won’t remember it.”

“But there’ll be pictures.”

“And when we all look back at them, she’ll be happy that we let her have whatever made her little one year old brain happy.”

Steve sighed, which meant Eddie was winning. This was the first time he’d had the upper hand the whole time.

“Where can we get a confetti cake?”

“You know Lena? Owns the bakery by the tattoo place?”

“The one who gave you the notebook of all the queer friendly spots in town?”

Eddie snaps his fingers and points at Steve.

“That’s her! She already offered to make one.”

“And you told her yes already, didn’t you?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny such allegations.”

Steve rolled his eyes and turned to continue writing things on his checklist that had nothing checked off.

“We also should check with Joyce about using the cabin. I know we said renting the bar out in the morning would be good, but imagine a first birthday in a bar.”

“It’s metal as hell, Stevie.”

“It’s questionable parenting, Eds.”

And here they were at another problem.

————————————

“So you’ve accomplished nothing?”

“We got a cake!”

Eddie was sitting on the couch supervising Ella’s play time while Steve and Robin were “planning” her party in the kitchen.

Eddie had been banished from all party endeavors after he brought home a baby-sized electric guitar and drum set and said it was for her to play at the party.

Robin took over and, admittedly, they’d accomplished a lot more already.

But this was their first official meeting and Robin was shocked to find out that they had next to nothing with only one week until the party.

“You stop talking!” Robin yelled back at him.

So he focused on entertaining Ella.

“Baby girl, I don’t know about you, but this party planning business is not what it’s cracked up to be. Maybe we should just give you your presents here and call it a day, hm?”

“Dada! Pay!”

“Yes, baby, I’m playin’.”

He helped her build a castle with her alphabet blocks, smiling when she pointed to the D and said “D. Dada!”

She was so fucking smart, it was scary.

When she got bored with the blocks, she started tapping on her plastic keyboard, hitting the same two notes again and again.

Eddie showed her the D key.

“This is D, Ella. See this one? You push this and it makes a D note. D like Dada!”

Ella pushed the key and then clapped.

“D! D!”

“Yeah, D!”

She kept smacking the D key, and Eddie kept smiling at her.

Someone cleared their throat behind him and he turned to see Steve smiling down at them, hands on his hips.

“Oh. Ella, show Daddy what you learned.”

“D! Dada! Daddy!” She said as she banged the D key.

Steve sat down next to Eddie and put his hand on his knee, squeezing it once before running his thumb back and forth over the hole in his jeans.

“You showed her that?”

“I’m gonna make her into a baby Mozart,” he said as he nodded. “She’s a natural.”

“Okay, love.”

“How’d the planning go?”

“Robin’s handling it.”

“All of it?”

Steve sighed.

“She said I’m being unreasonable.”

“But when I say it, I’m being rude and not giving you a chance.”

“When she says it, I know it’s true. When you say it, I know it’s because you’re not getting your way.”

“Do you hear this Ella? Slander from your father. I remember when it was just you and me, playing some tunes…”

“Oh my god,” Steve said around a laugh.

“Sometimes three’s a crowd, huh Ella?”

“Dada song!”

“Here, I play, you help.”

Eddie sat Ella in his lap and moved the keyboard in front of them, holding her tiny hands in his to guide them through Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

Steve clapped at the end of it, beaming at them both as if they’d just performed at Madison Square Garden.

“Incredible. I’d offer you a record deal on the spot.”

“Already had that, I’m retired. Thank you, though.”

Eddie kissed the top of Ella’s head as she kept banging on the keys, then leaned over to kiss Steve’s forehead.

————————————

Robin pulled off a hell of a party.

Not only did she manage to find princess rock star decorations, but she managed to find a live band that was willing to play kids songs, and a caterer who was willing to serve an entirely new menu so last minute.

There was even an open bar for the adults.

Eddie’s entire band and their families were there, the Hawkins crew and their families, Steve’s coworkers and their families, and most surprising of all, Steve’s mom.

He’d gone back and forth on whether to even invite her, but since she’d left his dad, she’d been trying to reconcile and get to know him again.

She brought a Barbie dream house because she didn’t seem to understand that one year olds weren’t quite at Barbie level, but it was the thought that counted or so Eddie kept reminding Steve when he got mad about “thoughtless gifts that just take up space.”

Ella loved playing with all the kids and sharing her new toys. Eddie and Steve had built her a play set at home that she didn’t even see yet.

She was spoiled, but it was the best kind.

Not the kind that Steve had growing up; useless and thoughtless gifts that were flashy and expensive because that’s what helped his parents feel better about leaving him with nannies or alone.

The kind where love was in abundance, where everyone wanted her to have the best because they loved her, where the best was sometimes the dollar store magic wand and tiara set so she could play princess and sometimes was a toddler sized drum set. Everyone came to her party because they were excited she was part of the family, not because they expected a big blowout with the finest food and drinks money can buy.

Eddie took a moment to look around at everyone. He never knew he’d end up here, he couldn’t have even dreamed it in his wildest ones that came from being cross faded in high school.

Steve wrapped his arms around him from behind, kissing his shoulder when he started to lean back.

“Turned out great, right?”

“It did, sweetheart. Always does with you.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #tumblr drabbles #steddie dads #domestic fluff #they’re great dads your honor

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ghostflowerhotpotch · 7 months

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You know I had seen some headcanons about ghostflower as parents, and here is a bit of my take on that.

Miles is the responsible dad, Gwen is the fun mom.

And that assumption has entirely to do with this.

Yep, I think the roles would be reversed for them, hear me out.

Miles was raised by loving and present parents, they have room for improvement but I don't doubt that Jeff and Rio knew how to establish healthy boundaries, knew when to be strict and when to be more permissive, and are all overall supportive, amazing parents.

Now, the thing about Gwen's parents-

Mom we know nothing, Gwen's mom is never mentioned in the spider-verse movies and again, I haven't read all of her comics, but if that woman was mentioned I don't remember. I normally assume she died when Gwen was very young so she doesn't have too many memories of her.

This leaves us with George.

So, I don't think George is the worst, I have my issues and I would scream at him until he goes deaf- but you can see at the end that he loves Gwen, and while he doesn't know what he is doing, he is trying.

We haven't seen much of him, but what did I notice?

He is not good with emotional intelligence; he doesn't realize that telling Gwen how the case is doing will not make her feel better (and it has to be a while since Peter died, he should know this by now.) Clearly doesn't know what to say to cheer her up. Tries to talk about his job and his duty when he doesn't know how to proceed.

And then he leaves because there was an emergency with the police; and is obvious this is not a rare occurrence. As someone who was basically raised by a single parent doing a lot of hours at work, I can tell you by this interaction that Gwen probably spend hours or entire nights alone.

So, how does translate to their parent styles?

Miles would feel a lot more confident in his role as a parent, he would definitely read a lot of books and would have his parents on speed dial; but Miles he is also a natural. He would thinking back on how his parents raise him, looking back in their decisions and understanding where they are coming from, and overall end up finding a middle point between how he grew up, and what he thinks is right for him and his family.

I will share what he does when the kids are older while sharing Gwen's approach.

Gwen on the other hand? Extremely anxious, Miles needed to reassure her a lot specially at the beginning. She can barely remember her mom, and her dad wasn't the most present. While I think by this point the relationship between her and Miles's parents would be better, I think part of her would also be afraid looking incompetent in comparison to Rio.

Later when the kids are older, Gwen defaults more to let the kids play and do things that they probably shouldn't "Is just one day/night," "Oh when I was their age I was trying to imitate the gymnasts on the TV, at least they are a lot more resistant that I was!" and "Hmmm, maybe this is something we should ask your father too."

Gwen's laxer approach was thanks to not being heavily supervised and not realizing when is too much at times, or thinking these is one of those things kids should learn and it would be fine.

Thanks to this, Miles is normally the one who needs to more strict and reasonable. "No, we can't have popcorn and ice cream for dinner, it doesn't matter if is Friday and summer is starting"; "I DON'T CARE IF YOU CAN HANDLE FALLING 6 FEET TO THE GROUND, YOU ARE NOT PRACTISING TIGHT ROPE!" and "I told you no, and don't go asking your mother just so she can say yes, I will find out."

Miles is still, the one parent to go when the kids are sad, upset or need to be hear out. While he may be stricter of the two and tries to stop anything that he deems too far; he knows the best how to de-escalate a situation and see reason.

Gwen while a lot of times doesn't know what to do, their kids always go to her when they just need a hug and be comforted. While Gwen a lot of times doesn't know what to say to make things better, or what advice to give; she never shy's away from telling her kids that sometimes they will make mistakes, and she would do too, but that never means they deserve any less love or compassion; no matter how hard the world is or the mistakes they make, Gwen promises to be there at any point, and that Miles and her would never stop loving them.

There is a lot of adjustments and discussions, but they balance it out.

#atsv #across the spiderverse #gwen stacy #miles morales #ghostflower #gwiles #ghostflower hcs

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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

Text

Elementary, Chapter Eight:

pairing: pre-outbreak joel miller x sarah’s teacher!reader

rating: E (18+ only, mild mentions of nerves/anxiety, mostly just cutesy summery fluff, alcohol consumption, shower sex, unprotected piv, these two just don’t stop, do they??)

wc: 4.6k

series masterlist | joel masterlist | playlist

— May 27, 2000 —

The auditorium quickly grew stuffy once everyone began filing in, eager to find good seats for the upcoming 5th grade promotion ceremony. The sweltering and humid air from this summer’s first heat wave snuck in, even with the loud, industrial fans attempting to keep the gymnasium cool by blowing it out.

You stood in the even hotter back room of the auditorium with the school’s entire fifth grade class—about 150 tweens running around, excited for the summer to officially begin. Fanning your face with the ceremony program, you relished in the air hitting the bead of sweat that trickled from your scalp down your neck and throat, your eyes nervously scanning the incoming crowd for your favorite fifth grader and her father, the two cutting it short on time.

Tommy had already arrived, taking his seat in the front row beside both of Joel’s parents. You made sure to go over and quickly greet them as soon as you saw them, Mary giving you a tight squeeze while both of the Miller boys simply offered you a smile.

“Where’s Joel and Sarah?” You turned to Tommy, receiving a chuckle and a shrug in response.

“Runnin’ late like always,” he replied in his signature Texas drawl. “Think Joel got a stain on his shirt when we were at Whataburger and had to go home to change.”

“Well, that’s what he gets for not inviting me out with you guys,” you feigned sass with a smirk, knowing that your obligations here at the school prevented you from attending the gathering even if they’d offered.

“Hey, I think they want us to corral the kids in the back,” John, your overly friendly co-worker and fellow fifth-grade teacher, tapped your elbow and stole you from the conversation.

“Alright.” You nodded at him before turning back to Joel’s family. “Well, I’ll see you guys after the ceremony?

“Yep. Oh, and good luck on your speech, sweetie,” Mary called out and you waved at her in response.

Now, the clock was ticking, the ceremony beginning in less than three minutes. You knew you could postpone it a bit if you wanted, maybe get another five or ten minutes of room for Sarah to show, but you remained hopeful that the Millers would show up before you had to stall. Thankfully, just as the clock hit five, Joel and Sarah came jogging in through the back door.

“There you are,” you whispered as they found you, hugging Sarah quickly before ordering her to find her place in the alphabetically ordered line of students. “Yeah, between Michael and Nessa.”

“Sorry,” Joel whispered as you returned to the front of the line again, leaning in to quickly kiss you on the cheek, his hand resting on the small of your back. You hushed his apology and gave his chin a loving pinch. “M’gonna go find a seat, alright?”

“Tommy saved you a chair up front,” you whispered, pointing towards the front row.

Joel flashed you a smile before rushing off into the now-hushed auditorium, Pomp and Circumstance beginning to play through the shitty speakers. After watching him go, you turned around to greet the line leaders with a reassuring smile. “Ready?”

After a confident nod from the kids, you gave the thumbs-up to John who was waiting further into the room. Soon, the kids started their march up the aisles of metal folding chairs to the beat, smiling and waving at their parents hurrying to try to capture a good picture from the audience.

You hurried to the front of the auditorium to guide the kids into their seats, assuring that they didn’t throw off the entire seating plan, and therefore throw off the entire order of the program. While supervising, your eyes found Joel’s in the audience, his smile content as he watched Sarah walk down the aisle in her polyester cap and gown. You’d never get tired of watching Joel love his daughter the way every little girl deserves to be loved by their father—the way you and so many others wished you were.

With all the kids now seated, you stepped up the stairs at the side stage to join the rest of the fifth grade teachers, principle, and superintendent. When you took a seat to allow the student-body president to come up, make the introductory remarks and recite the Pledge of Allegiance, your eyes found Joel’s again, this time finding him already staring at you. Your friendly smile quickly turned into a grin, forcing you to hide behind your program. The Pledge acted as a distraction from his shit-eating grin that you know was still pointed at you.

“Now, we’d like to invite our fifth-grade teachers up to make some remarks directly to their students.” The principle called you up one by one, leaving you for last. Smiling and shaking her hand, you accepted your place at the podium, the bright stage lights blinding you from most of the audience, but Sarah and Joel’s sweet smiles were bright and clear as you looked into the crowd, finding them looking up at you.

Your once smoothly practiced speech was now stuttered, Joel’s eyes fixed on you making you more nervous than the entire audience combined. You stumbled your way through it before blushing back to your seat and shaking your head at him in the audience, clapping for you.

After a round of speeches from the higher ups at the school, the principle began handing out certificates, the rest of you waiting on the side to shake the child’s hand and allow their parent to take a picture. When Sarah’s name was called, you took a deep breath, trying to keep your tears at bay as you watched this little girl that you’d grown to love like a daughter walk up to you with her certificate in hand. Turning towards the audience, Joel stood near the stage with a disposable camera pressed to his eye.

“Say cheese!” he called and you and Sarah obliged, grinning through your tears as you hugged her to your side. “Beautiful!” he complimented, moving to the side stage to help his daughter down the stairs and walk her back to her chair while you went back to work.

After the ceremony had ended and your obligations ended, you hurried out to the courtyard to find the Miller’s gift table. Joel had Sarah tucked into his side in the shade of a willow tree, a balloon tied to her wrist as she talked to Jessie while Joel talked to Jessie’s mother. You walked up to the table fifteen or so feet away to greet his mother and he flashed you a smile, clearly trying to wrap his conversation up so he could talk to you instead. Just as the conversation seemed to die with Jessie’s mother, Jessie’s father came over and started it back up.

“You look so beautiful in this light, sweetheart!” Mary nearly squealed as she turned to look at you, your face illuminated in the golden summer light paired with the shade of the willow tree. “Let me take your picture.”

“Oh, please,” you chuckled, waving off her compliment as a joke, but then she was reaching for the camera, winding it up before clicking a few different shots of you. The clicking of the camera seemed to catch Joel’s attention, his eyes now unabashedly fixed on you rather than the couple yapping his ear off.

“Excuse me,” Joel excused himself from the conversation and let Sarah go run off with Jessie, much to her delight, his eyes and smile fixed on you as you talked to his mother like you were old friends.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a smile, keeping your feelings tamed around his parents. Joel, however, didn’t seem to care. Slipping his arm around your waist, he placed a soft but sweet kiss on your lips.

“Hey,” he greeted back finally.

“We’re at an elementary school, Joel, must you feel up your girlfriend in front of everybody?” Joel’s father, Paul, spoke, effectively scaring you off of any more PDA. Joel gave you a frown and attempted to pull you back into his side, but you shook your head. Joel nodded and allowed you to go off to deliver cards to the rest of your student’s tables while he dealt with his father.

“She’s intimidated by you already, pop, you know that.” Joel scolded his father with a hand perched on his hip, the older man shrugging in indifference.

“That ain’t my fault,” he argued, earning a scoff from his eldest son.

“He’s just extra grumpy ‘cause it’s hot out today,” Mary interjected into the conversation, apologizing on her husband’s behalf.

“Dad, when can we go home for the party?” Sarah came running up to her father, the remnants of a popsicle turning her lips red.

“Whenever you want,” he replied, his eyes scanning the courtyard for you, finding you talking with John, a look of pure discomfort on your face. “Hey, remember how we worked on aim last week?” Joel grabbed the soccer ball beneath his daughter’s feet and held it up, pointing at you and the man clearly bugging you. “Think you got it? Don’t wanna hit the wrong person now.”

“Oh, I got it,” Sarah grinned and lined herself up for the kick, using all the confidence and skill Joel had instilled in her over the years, and went for it.

The ball cut through the courtyard like a bullet, hitting John square in the ass. Joel had to hide his glee over not only his daughter’s amazing shot, but John’s whining. You locked eyes with him from across the yard and gave him a playful head shake before excusing yourself and coming back over.

“You two—“ You pointed at Joel and Sarah, the duo snickering like children when you approached them. “Could have hit me, or somebody else—“

“But I didn’t…because I’m amazing,” Sarah countered, and you couldn’t find it in you to disagree.

“You think that got the message across?” Joel asked, nudging his chin to gesture behind you. You looked over your shoulder to see John pouting and staring back at the two of you.

“I don’t know, he’s persistent.” You turned back to Joel and gave him a smile while Sarah snuck back off to find her best friend. “Why? You jealous, Miller?”

“Very,” he admitted freely, reaching for your hand and using it to pull you against his chest. “Don’t wanna lose you to Matthew McConaughey.”

“You’re not going to lose me to anyone. I’m perfectly happy right here with Joel Miller.” Joel’s smile spread so wide that his dimples made a rare appearance, his eyes crinkling as he leaned in to kiss you. Allowing him a subtle peck, you held him back to prevent him from getting too handsy with you. “How about we leave? Start the real party at your place where I can kiss you freely without my bosses staring at me.”

“Yeah,” he nodded and pulled away from you in a show of strength, walking over to the gift table. Joel ordered Tommy to help carry the gift bags and cards from Sarah’s friends before collecting his daughter. “Alright, ma, we’ll see you at the house?”

“Yep, but we gotta go swing by ours first and pick up the pies I baked,” she drawled back as her and Paul got up to follow you all out to the parking lot.

You bid the Millers goodbye in the parking lot before heading to your car, having driven to the ceremony on your own. You needed to swing by your place anyways, your dress now much too formal for the laid-back pool party ahead of you tonight.

Quickly hurrying inside, you changed into your favorite and most conservative black one-piece swimsuit and a pair of denim shorts. Next, you threw on a new layer of lotion and sunscreen, touched up your makeup, before finally packing your overnight bag in case you decided to stay over at Joel’s place tonight, which you were already sure you were going to do.

By the time you made it over to his place, Joel was greeting his cousins as they arrived before you with their families. You watched him watch you from the sidewalk, a smirk tugging at your lips as he rushed his cousins into the house so that he could greet you quicker.

“Finally,” he playfully scolded as you met him at the door, his arms wrapping around your waist and giving you a squeeze. “You look beautiful.”

“You’re just sweet on me,” you retorted with a grin.

“Damn right.” His lips pressed against yours deeper than earlier tonight, no one around anymore to scold the two of you for being eager. You hummed against his lips as he held you there, swaying you on his front step for all his neighbors to see as they wandered over for the big party.

“Nice to see you in love,” Mrs. Green, a retired teacher and recent widow that lived across the street, came over and beamed at the two of you as she arrived for the party. Joel let you head inside while he greeted the new guests with friendly smiles, mumbling something about the ladies “embarrassin’” him.

Outside, you found his backyard to be full of people both new and familiar, but mostly new. You awkwardly tucked yourself in the corner as you debated going up to some of his cousins to introduce yourself, but worried that perhaps Joel would want to do that himself, or maybe not at all. It had only been two and a half months since you started seeing each other, after all.

“What the hell are you doin’ hidin’ over here?” Tommy found you and laughed, shaking his head at you before pointing across the pool at the coolers. “Go get yourself something to drink and have fun. Us Millers are simple people, it ain’t gonna be hard to win us over.”

You chuckled and followed his advice, weaving your way through the packed backyard to the coolers to grab yourself a beer, the crispness of a good, icy Corona making your mouth water.

“Knew I’d find you by the booze,” Joel wrapped his arms around your waist as you lifted a beer out of the ice. You turned in his arms and held the beer out for him.

“You got a bottle opener?” Joel nodded and reached into his pocket for his keys, quickly popping the cap off before handing your drink back to you. “Tommy sent me over because he saw how nervous I was.”

“Nervous?” he asked, reaching into the cooler for himself. “What are you nervous about?”

“Meeting your family, I guess,” you shrugged, giving him a shy smile. “Want them to like me.”

“Baby,” he chuckled and tilted his head at you, pulling you into his arms. “You’re the most educated person here, you’re the kindest person here, the funniest, the best lookin’…you don’t have to impress anybody. They gotta impress you.”

You placed a hand on his cheek and looked at him with an adoring smile, too in love with him for your own good.

“Come on, you wanna help me with the grill? Keep me company, put some cheese on some patties, hand out some hot dogs?” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and proudly walked you through the party, introducing you along the way to some of his cousins as they whistled at the two of you. “See?” He leaned in to whisper to you as you stood at the grill together. “You’ve got nothin’ to worry about.”

The party went on well into the evening, Sarah still doing cannonballs into the pool with Jessie while you looked on, acting as a lifeguard. Joel was walking the last of his family out, calling cabs and arranging carpools for the drunk ones. You sat curled up on a patio chair, a dopey, content smile on your face as you watched the girls play mermaids together, reminding you of fond childhood memories of summertime.

“All gone,” Joel husked from behind you as he draped his arms over your shoulders, bending down to press a kiss to your cheek and whisper in you ear. “Think it’s time to get the girls in bed so you and I can go for a swim.”

“Yeah?” you turned, looking up at him with a bright smile. “I think that sounds nice.”

“I’ll break the news.” Joel left you to go squat down by the edge of the pool, both of the girls groaning in unison as he told them that it was well past bedtime. “It’s midnight, baby girl. Y’all can swim more tomorrow.”

Sarah finally gave in, though it wasn’t as though she had much of a choice in the matter. As soon as they wrapped themselves in their towels, both girls yawned and grew sluggish, the workout of their all-night swimming finally hitting them.

Joel walked both girls upstairs and stayed inside the house for a while, no doubt waiting for their snores to sound before coming back out to join you as you waded in the warm water. You didn’t mind the wait, choosing to spend your time floating around, your eyes closing to allow you to relish in the peace of the moment, the warm, nighttime summer breeze prickling your skin as it blew against your wet skin.

“Water bug.” Joel’s voice interrupted your floating, your head springing up to watch him as he stepped into the pool, one hand holding two bottles of beer, the other carrying two shot glosses. “Thought we’d take a celebratory shot seein’ as you made it through the last day of school.”

“That is a cause for celebration,” you agreed, accepting the beer and shot glass from his hands. You followed him over to the edge of the pool, both of you setting your beers down before holding up your glasses of silver tequila. “To Sarah being a middle-schooler.”

Joel winced and held his hand over his heart.

“Too soon, I’m not ready to accept it,” he joked. “How ‘bout…to our first summer together. First of many, that is.”

“Oh yeah? I don’t see a ring in my finger,” you teased, wiggling your ring finger at him playfully.

“Oh, I plan on fixin’ that in due time, baby. Don’t you worry.” He grinned, delighting in the fluster his words caused. “Alright, alright. To us.”

“To us.” You clinked your shot glass against his and tipped the liquor back, only gagging a little as you used your beer to wash the medicinal taste down with a shiver. “Ugh, still hate it.”

“Yeah, that used to be a hell of a lot easier.” He shuddered and took another swig of his beer before reaching for you, pulling you close in the warm water. You wrapped your legs around his waist and held his face in both hands, grinning at him like you were the happiest woman alive. “You’re so beautiful, baby. Right now—“ He shook his head and lifted his hand, his fingers tracing the side of your face. “Can’t stop lookin’ at you like this. So beautiful.”

“Are the girls asleep?” you asked, leaning in to hover your lips over his. Joel nodded, squeezing your hips to pull you closer. Planting a soft, teasing kiss to his lips, you spoke again, whispering against him. “You up for a game of Marco/Polo?”

“I…was thinkin’ we were gonna do somethin’ else, but I guess—“

“Trust me,” you purred, kissing him once more before pulling away, making him chase you. “I think you’ll like the way I play.”

“Oh, will I?” he smirked and watched you as you slowly swam away.

“You’re Marco, I’m Polo. Close your eyes.” Joel obeyed your command with his smile still wide, so playful he almost looked like a kid again. Resting his hands over his eyes for extra measure, Joel gave you a nod to signal he was ready.

“Marco!” he called as you slipped carefully towards the steps.

“Polo!” you called back, and he turned to you, his ears well-trained, it seems.

“Marco!” His smile widened, his feet walking him slowly in your direction as you stepped out of the pool as silent as the breeze warming your skin.

“Polo!” you called back, meeker than before as he neared the steps himself. Hurrying with the plan, you peeled off your bathing suit, keeping it in hand for when he called again.

“Marco…” His voice was now low, his feet padding across the patio to find you under the built-in gazebo where his singular lounge bed sat. You let the wet one piece hit the stone below your feet with a wet slap, Joel’s hands falling from his eyes as he opened them, finding you bare to only him and the moon above, the trees in his backyard shielding you from the Adler’s sight.

“Polo,” you finally replied in a purr. “Guess I lost.”

“Guess so,” he rasped, stepping to you until he was pressing his body into yours, his hands gripping at your hips and waist. “Baby, I want to fuck you out here so bad, but I can’t risk the girl’s sneakin’ out for a swim only to find us here…goin’ at it.” You nodded in understanding, resting your hand on his face as you started to feel embarrassed by your too-bold idea. “But that don’t mean I don’t want to collect my prize, darlin’. Get your towel on and get your beautiful ass upstairs.”

“Oh,” you gasped at the hunger in his eyes, not having seen him so worked up over you since the first time you slept together. The sight thrilled you with excitement.

“Go on,” he grinned, charming as ever. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

Your feet propelled you into obedience, hurrying you into the house with your towel wrapped tightly around your frame, Joel’s eyes on you the entire time. You jogged upstairs and got freshened up a bit, showering off the pool water until you felt and smelled a bit more like you. While giving your legs a quick run-over with your razor, you watched the bathroom door click open, Joel’s form in the foggy glass coming into focus more and more as he walked through the steam. He was stripped down to just his smile when he opened the shower door and stepped in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Here to collect your prize?” you asked teasingly. Joel shook his head and placed a lingering kiss onto your shoulder.

“Just here to be with you,” he replied, soft as ever. “And then afterwards—“

“Knew it,” you chuckled, finishing your half-assed shave job before turning him into the stream of the water. Joel hissed at the temperature and turned it down a bit before soothing into it. You squeezed his body wash into your palm before rubbing it onto his chest, the white suds contrasting with his golden skin. “What were you doing downstairs?”

“Put a frozen pizza in the oven ‘cause I didn’t get any food earlier,” he replied softly, his eyes closed shut as you washed his body, your hands eventually wandering to his half-erect cock to stroke him. “Mm, your hands seem to be payin’ an awful lot of attention to that one specific area.”

“Drawn to it like a moth to a flame,” you replied, half-kidding.

“Baby,” he tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. “What do you think about…maybe spending the summer over here?”

“You mean like…move in?” Your eyes studied his thoroughly as you froze. With a nervous nod and equally timid smile, Joel nodded.

“Not…permanently, or anythin’. I know it’s soon, but…I just…I don’t wanna be without you this summer,” he confessed, cupping your cheek. “Wanna be able to wake up with you in my bed every mornin’. And, if you get tired of me, you can go back to your place. Just…I just want to soak up all the time I can before school starts back up and work gets crazy for me again.”

“Okay,” you nodded, your smile growing as you threw caution to the wind. Besides, it wasn’t permanent, and you were already staying over most nights anyways. “I’ll pack a bag tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled, half-convinced he hasn’t heard you right.

“Yeah.” You bit your lip and wrapped your fist around his now fully hardened length, giving it a squeeze at the base. “I need you, Joel.”

“Here or in bed?” he asked, leaning in to kiss your neck.

“Here,” you sighed out a moan as his tongue swiped over your pulse. Joel let out a groan against your skin and nodded, wrapping his arms around your waist and turning you to press your back against the wall. “We can do the extra stuff later,” you panted, gripping his cock and lining it up with your entrance. “I just need to feel you right now.”

Joel groaned again and kept his face buried in your neck as his cock sank deep into your heat, your breath hitching as he stretched you open.

“So good,” you whispered into his ear as you kissed his sideburn, Joel’s head nodding against you earnestly as he withdrew himself and sank back inside. “Love you.”

“Love you,” he husked, lifting his head so that he could rest his forehead against yours. Sounding more desperate than before, he whined against your lips and continued fucking into you fast enough to make his heart pound in his chest, “I love you so much, baby.”

Licking his fingertips, he lowered them to your clit, rubbing over the liquor-heightened nerve endings there like he was on a mission. You bit his shoulder to muffle the sob threatening to erupt from your chest, his body working against yours like it was made just to please you. Perhaps it was.

“I’m so fucking close,” you warned, guiding his lips to yours. Joel moaned, his lips vibrating against yours as he kept at it, just adding the slightest bit more pressure. “Joel, fuck…I’m—fuck.”

“G-od,” he choked on his praise as he felt you cum for him, your walls like a vice grip around his already throbbing cock. “Baby…you want me to cum? Cum inside you? Can I?”

“Yes,” you panted, tightening your leg’s grip around his hip as it rested there, pulling him in deeper. Joel’s moans were wanton, giving your own a run for their money as he fucked into you like some sort of primative creature. You held on tightly to his shoulders as he fucked you into the wall, your feet slipping on the floor from the force of his thrusts, but he was quick to scoop you up and pin you against the tile, your knees folded over his forearms. “Holy fucking shit, Joel!”

He had you spread open, his cock drilling deeper than it ever had before in this new, punishing angle.

“That’s so fuckin’ good,” he praised, his words drawling out. “Gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna—god damn—gonna make you mine.”

When he came, his groan was so loud, so primal, that you had to place your hand over his mouth to muffle it, though it nearly hurt you to quiet such a pretty sound. His chest heaved, his golden skin turned red from the exertion and heat of the water.

“Fuck,” he panted as he set you down onto your feet and crowded you against the cool wall of the shower once more, kissing your lips soft and sweet. “I know you’re gonna think I’m just sayin’ shit, but…sex has never felt this good, baby. With anyone.”

“No, I know what you mean. Sex before you was always so…iffy. But with you—“ You held his face in your hands and gave him a dopey grin. “It’s always perfect.”

“God,” he exhaled and shook his head at you, matching your smile. “You sure got me wrapped around your finger, don’t ya?”

“That’s okay, you usually have me wrapped around you in a couple different ways.” Joel gasped at your cheekiness befor laughing.

“I think I’m startin’ to wear off on ya.” You giggled and nodded, leaning into his kiss. “Good.”

•

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twisted-wonderland-shenanigans · 10 months

Note

Humans have the tendency to put poisonous plants in their mout and enjoy eating it ( coffee and anything that has effects of being spicy like chili peppers and weirdly we have the habit to eat things that are not good for us )

Like imagine anyone seeing the local human eating grapes out in the open or trying to make coffee?

Better yet eating chili peppers they found and make it part of their lunch

It'll be wild

If it looks edible, humans will put it in their mouth. That’s a fact of life—but not exactly a good idea sometimes! :V

Put a human in a world full of humanoid monsters where certain foods are toxic or can give them really bad tummy aches? You’ll either get a human complaining about a craving for something not readily available, or you’ll get this:

Yuu: *glancing around before sneakily eating bag of grapes*

Sebek: “Human! What are you eating?!”

Yuu: *freezes, shoving the grapes in their mouth before taking off at top speed*

Sebek: “HUMAN!! Get back here!!!”

*two hours later*

Ace: “Did you have to chase them up a tree?”

Sebek: “It’s not as if I intended to do so! The human shouldn’t have been hiding what they were eating in the first place. They are not a chipmunk!”

Yuu: *sitting on a branch high up, eating more grapes* “This is fine.”

Jack: “Wait, where did that bag come from?”

//----//

Granted, moments like these will calm down quite a bit once it’s clear that Yuu is—in fact—safe. But if the local human happens to be allergic to certain ingredients or foods, they’d better be prepared for quick hands swiping their food or getting tackled and rushed to the nurse’s office/the researchers. When the discovery that some monster students possess human DNA, this opens up a whole new world of food possibilities for them to try! In a supervised environment of course, and more on a volunteer basis just to ensure student safety.

Otherwise, Yuu will gain some snack buddies! 😃

Now, when it comes to mini!Yuu, as all little kids do, it’s highly likely that the toddler will try to put random things in their mouth.

//----//

Mini!Yuu: *playing in Jade and Floyd’s room, climbing up on Jade’s desk while Floyd isn’t looking and picking up a mushroom* “Oooh.” *goes to put it in mouth*

Floyd: “Eh, Shrimpy, what’s—Shrimpy, no!!” *bolts over and grabs the mushroom, holding it high over his head* “Don’t eat that!”

Mini!Yuu: “Why?”

Floyd: “Because mushrooms are disgusting. Bleck!”

Jade: *walks in carrying a small terrarium* “I thought I heard a commotion. Did something happen while I was away for a moment?”

Floyd: “Jade, little Shrimpy almost ate one of your mushrooms! Didn’t Azul tell you to keep your stuff away from them?”

Jade: “They did, did they? Oh my…I was only gone for a minute. Fufufu…well, it’s wonderful knowing that you were watching out for them, though I assure you that this particular mushroom is perfectly safe. It is a pearl oyster mushroom, one of the most commonly used in cooking. I had hoped to make a small terrarium of perfectly safe and non-toxic mushrooms for our dear little Yuu.”

Mini!Yuu: “I wanna try the mushy!”

Jade: “Of course, little one. Would you like to help me build your terrarium?”

Mini!Yuu: “Yes!”

Floyd: *groans*

//----//

And thus began the tiny toddler’s first part of the collection of terrariums and Floyd suffering. Jade’s just happy to have someone who will listen to him talk about mushrooms and plants he finds in the mountains, even if they don’t understand half of what he says! X’D

Anyway, as you can imagine, taking care of a child who doesn’t know what’s good and safe for them is difficult. Especially since—as any parent would tell you—it’s when you look away for just one split second that things can happen to a kid. Hence, why for some of them (Jamil, Vil, Rook, Trey, Jack, Crewel, and Trein), they’re able to just calmly reach over and snatch the dangerous food or object and replace it with something safer.

Then there are those who might end up freaking out/panicking. Funny to reminisce over, but not so funny in the moment 😂

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland monster au #twst monster au #sebek zigvolt #ace trappola #jack howl #twisted wonderland mini!yuu #twst mini!yuu #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu

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beruxyz · 1 month

Text

- Annoyingly Adorable

Genshin Women x (Platonic)Child! Reader

"𝙸𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑, 𝙰 𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜."

Characters : Jean, Lisa, Ganyu || (Seperate)

Warnings : Fatherless 😹 (Reader is GN)

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐆𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫 || 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚍𝚝

- A Mother and an Acting Grandmaster of Mondstadt, She was as usual very busy with stacks upon stacks of complaints from the citizens.

- She loved you very much to the point that she would even let you play inside her office, As long as you were not disturbing her. (And that's saying alot.)

- Perhaps it was the fact that you looked so much like your father that she didn't want to be seperated from you. She didn't want whatever happened to your father to happen to you too due to her ignorance. (Which was just her being really busy.)

- Usually, The Knights or Klee would play with you but Klee was currently in.. Jail as the spark knight puts it and the Knights were too busy to play with you since a particular potion shop decided to appear out of no where.

-And.. That left you alone. with your not-so strict, overworked and busy mom. In a room. Together.

- You were not gonna to do anything, It was just that it was too boring and the awful sound of pen scratching against the paper was probably the only entertainment a child could have in this barren wasteland. Playing with toys given to you by Mr. One Eye and Lady Lisa was already boring you to death.

- So.. You decided to leave the office, Closing the door fast as your mom was about to say no.

------__--_-_-_-_-_-_-_-____

"Y/N get back ʜᴇʀᴇ-" Jean's voice was soon muffled by the door closing. A child out of their parent's sight is a child to fear because no amount of pestering is gonna be able to calm them down unless you get the parent themselves.

You were not gonna do anything, Maybe perhaps try to picklock the door to Klee's jail (Didn't work) or maybe you could try to steal a book in the library (Lisa saw you immediately upon entering) or maybe you should just hide, Yes! Hide, Hide and Seek! Oh you were so happy upon having that sudden thought in your little head as you ran around the Favonius Headquarters with a toy in hand and no adult supervision.

It was not in Jean's checklist to spend almost half the day trying to find and catch you. Even with the knights who came back to HQ upon her request to help her find and catch her child was ALSO not part of her checklist! Ah, This was too much already, This sure will put a bad image on not only her but also the knights!

"Y/N." A stern voice spoke behind you as you were sitting, facing the wall giggling to yourself. Perhaps it was the lack of softness in her voice that absolutely terrified you as you slowly looked behind you with fear in your eyes. "Mom.. Hi!" You spoke nervously, Standing up from your hiding spot as you gripped the hand of your toy tightly.

"No more games. Come now, Mom is very tired of this." The softness in Jean's voice returned as a sigh escaped her. Jean picked you up, A stern look on her face before breaking out into a soft smile. You just reminded her too much of your father.

𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐚 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢 || 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚍𝚝

- The one and only Favonius Librarian and your mom, She may not seem like it but even librarians like her tend to be overworked most of the time, Especially the appearance of the Potion Shop that the Acting Grandmaster wanted to put up. Safe to say it was going pretty well.

- You and Lisa were often seen sitting next to the Potion Stand, You usually drawing on the coloring book that Mr. Kaeya gave you and Lisa sipping on her cup of tea while reading the Market demands.

- Your Mom made sure that she explained to you what will happen if you happened to steal one of the potions. (Lighthearted threats of course, She didn't want you to just up and steal the potions that the Traveler worked hard for.)

- But, Did that stop you? A little bit, You were still curious of the effects of some potions. Like the one that made you get all the wisdom! Like every wisdom in the world?! That would be so cool to use, especially on days where your mom suddenly quizzed you out of no where..

- So perhaps you stole a potion, Maybe two.. Or three. They were just vials, Not the actual potions of course. Paimon made a deal with you to give her some food in exchange for some vial of the potions that the Traveler was making.

- To any costumer that happened to walk by the two of you were very much suspicious and weirded out, Because the two of you looked like you were doing some "strange deals" together.

-A kid and a.. Floating fairy doing deals, Yeah totally normal in today's society of course.

- Paimon told you that the effects would wear out eventually, especially since these were not the actual full blown potions but more of a "sample". Which, You were a bit disappointed about but i mean.. It's better than nothing i suppose.

-_--_-_-_-----_-_-_-_--_-_-__

"Where have you been? Mom has been worried sick.." Lisa spoke worriedly as she stood up from her seat, Checking to make sure you're alright.

"Im fine, im fine. Me and Paimon were just playing and.. Stuff." You answered with a grin, A grin that if your mom looked too closely at then she will surely interrogate you. "Hmm.. What's that in your pocket sweetie?" Lisa asked with curiousity, Curiousity that was definitely mixed with teasing as a smirk was already plastered on her face.

"Snacks.. Uhh, Paimon gave me some snacks which i know, really weird since she never uh.. Shares food.. Or something." You were practically spewing out sweat like a sprinkler, Looking up at you mom with an Innocent smile. "Mhm.. Empty your pockets." Lisa spoke sternly, A hand already out for whatever was inside your pocket. You just let out a loud groan before emptying your pockets to reveal 3 vials of Wisdom and Constitution potions.

"Why would you need these? Are you hiding something behind me Y/N?" Your mom asked with a serious tone as she examined the vials for a bit before knowing what it was. "Well.. I just wanted to answer your quizzes correctly.."

"But you do answer my quizzes, Sure it's not correct most of the time but that's what matters. Mistakes are proofs that you're trying, and that's what matters, Alright?" Lisa spoke with a soft smile, Crouched down in front of you while softly patting your head. You can never fool you mom and give her a hard time, Because she just turns it into you sobbing at her clothes.

𝐆𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐮 || 𝙻𝚒𝚢𝚞𝚎

- A Qixing General Secretary and a Mother. Ooh boy, So many things to do and so many papers to go thru, The life of a particular Half-Qilin and Half-Human named Ganyu.

-You, As her sweet (And unfortunately mischievous) pride and joy, Her child is quite literally the only thing that motivates her to get home on time. That is unless a sudden overtime happens which she will suddenly lose all tiredness and fully commit to her work. (Even if she already had fully committed, She just wants to embrace her kid after a long day.)

- Has her child already eaten?

- Complex meeting minutes, disorderly report data... Every day, piles of documents flow by like water, each one personally compiled by Ganyu into clear and concise words in order to assist the Qixing's every decision and negotiation as the papers go through various organizational departments.

- Archons, she misses her child already.

- As the secretary of Yuehai Pavilion, Ganyu undertakes many tasks that ordinary folk do not see. For those that have witnessed her standing by the dock on her breaks or enjoying her breakfast in silence, it is difficult to imagine her in such a position.

- Oftentimes, when she returns home from work at around midnight, She would see you sleeping on her Mentor, cloud retainer's lap. She was quite shocked when she first saw you with her family figure, Apologizing immediately after accidentally waking the two of you up as Cloud Retainer just sighed.

- Recently, After a particular event happened. Ganyu kept seeing a little girl named Shuyu play with you, Which turned out to be her mentor's newest disciple, A disciple from the human world.. Well Ganyu can't be weirded out by it, You yourself was a product of a human man and Ganyu, But that's a story for another time.

- Ganyu of course was very happy that you were making friends with Shuyu, even the other kids in Liyue Harbor has started to hang out with you which made her very proud. But it felt like you were growing too fast, Ganyu is not even sure if you got her Qilin blood as well.. She's only half qilin, Which definitely lessened your chances of you being one. But until you started to show signs that you did in fact have Qilin blood running in your veins, Let her be cuddly and clingy to you.

- This however, Led you to be a bit displeased with your mother's sudden clingyness towards you, Often leading you to ignore her kisses or hugs. (Which Ganyu understood but still very much felt motherly pain from it.)

- You displeased it so much to the point that you would stay out of your mother's sight whenever you were playing with your friends in public. (Knowing that she is the secretary of Yuehai Pavillion.)

-_-_----_-_-_-_-_--_-_-_--___

"Y/N! Y/N! Isn't that your mom?" One of your close friends asked while not-so subtly pointing at the direction in which your mother was talking to a merchant, She looked quite angry if you were being honest.

"Yeah, Come on let's go!" You spoke while grabbing your friend's arm, pulling them back as you ran to the other side of Liyue Harbor. Of course, Ganyu noticed this. In fact, She had already finished talking to the merchant the moment you grabbed your friend's arm to drag them away.

As your mother, She quickly followed behind while making sure to be out of you and your friend's sight, She didn't want you running away again to some weird place in Liyue Harbor. (Because archon's know what those alleyways do.)

"Hm.. Wait, Why are we even running? Isn't your mom a Qixing or something?" You friend asked while taking deep breaths, Looking at you with a curious gaze. "Secretary of the Qixing, And i just wanna be left alone right now.. Mom is way too clingy around me, I don't even understand the suddenness of it and why she's suddenly clingy!" You whisper-yelled to your friend, Ranting about your mom while your friend just stayed quiet.

Maybe the reason your friend stayed quiet is perhaps because your mom, Ganyu, is literally right BEHIND you. "Yeah.. Yeah.. Uhh, Well.. Dad needs me in his stall now, Bye bye Y/N!" Your friend spoke hurriedly before leaving you confused.

"What's up with them? Eh, Whatever.." You muttered under your breath before turning around, Only to be met with your mother with a sad frown on her face. "Y/N! I.. I didn't know that you didn't like my hugs! Or kisses! You could have told me you know?" Ganyu whispered, She was talking to you in a public place after all of course and she didn't wanna draw so much attention to the both of you already.

"We're talking later when i get home."

"Ah.. Crap."

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨! 𝘐 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘓𝘓 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘛𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳. 𝘉𝘶𝘩-𝘣𝘺𝘦

#genshin x male reader #platonic genshin x reader #genshin x reader #lisa minci x reader #lisa minci #genshin impact x female reader #genshin lisa #genshin jean #genshin ganyu #ganyu #ganyu x reader #jean gunnhildr x reader #jean gunnhildr #genshin x gn reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #beruxyz's fics

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fairyhaos · 9 months

Text

. ˚ game on !

requested by 🫧 anon: what about strangers to lovers with wonwoo, the guy that you met at the arcade 😌

pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader

genre: college au, meet cute, arcade au, fluff

word count: 1256

warnings: 1 curse word, maybe mildly ooc

notes: this took way too long for me to write,,, i hope y'all enjoy anyways <3

Every competent, sensible, slightly-more-sane-than-the-rest college student has a safe place. A haven, a refuge, somewhere they go to be alone and clear their thoughts to relax after a stressful day.

For some, that place is one of the libraries. Maybe a secluded place in a park. Maybe meeting up with their friends in a coffee shop a little ways off campus. Maybe even just hopping on a train and going all the way home.

For Wonwoo, however, his place is a little different.

Wonwoo goes to the arcade.

There is a small arcade a little ways away from where he lives, on the corner of a busy street and yet, oddly, seems to remain empty for the majority of the day. On the off-chance that there are people there, they're mostly small kids with adults, or pre-teens giddy at having been able to go out without parental supervision. All of them however, know to avoid Wonwoo’s arcade game. The one he’s staked claim over all the way back during his first year.

It's nothing special, simply just one of those shooting games with the plastic guns and bad graphics and weird, tinny sound effects, but Wonwoo likes it. It reminds him of the terrible arcade games back at home.

It also helps that he's really, really good at it.

And so, it's another one of those days for him, where he wants to run away from the stress of college life, wants to ignore Mingyu's texts for once and Seungcheol's endless offers to go out for a drink and stand there and shoot at pixelated images without a care in the world.

When he arrives at the arcade, however, he finds his plans are somewhat disrupted.

There's someone using his game.

Wonwoo blinks, surprised. He doesn't move from his spot, a few metres away from the machine, watching the person play and listen to the crackly sounds that come from the speakers every time a successful shot is made.

They're actually really good.

Eventually, the game finishes with dramatic closing music and the words 'GAME OVER' flashing in front of you, and you set down the arcade gun, sighing.

You've never played in this arcade before. Coming from another area of the town, the arcade near where you’re staying has been closed down for apparently engaging in "suspicious business" and, without your usual escape, you've had to scour the town for another place to seek refuge in.

This arcade certainly looks cleaner and more looked-after than the one you'd been frequenting before. Maybe yours really had been engaging in "suspicious business". Old Mr. Song’s oily moustache had been rather suspicious-looking, now that you think about it.

The games are more or less the same, however, and whilst you haven't played in a while, you're pleased to see that you aren't doing too badly, seeing your score flash up as first place in the leaderboard on the game's screen.

Well, as expected, really. You've been playing this game literally every week for years, whenever you have time or want to chill. Even in a new arcade, you're still a pro.

You raise your eyebrows at the second place score, however, surprised by how high it is, noting the barest difference in number compared to yours. Not bad, stranger who apparently is as addicted to arcade games as me, you think.

"Hey," a voice calls out behind you, and you whip around to see a boy standing there, hands in his pockets, walking towards you.

Oh, shit. The first thing you register is that this guy is quite possibly the most attractive person you've ever seen.

His black rimmed glasses glint in the neon signs of the arcade as he tilts his head, a bag slung over his shoulder, and there's the faintest smile on his lips. He stops beside you, nodding at the flashing screen. "You're pretty good."

You raise an eyebrow. "Pretty good?" you echo. "I beat the high score that was previously held on his machine. On my first time here, might I add. I think I'm more than 'pretty good'."

That makes him laugh, surprised by your quick-witted response. "Ah, of course. My apologies. You're incredible."

You grin, pleased by both the compliment and the way you managed to pull such a delighted sound out of this boy. Who was really, really attractive, damn. "Thank you. I know."

He smiles again. "So it's your first time in this arcade, hm?"

“Yep,” you say. “I’m not from around here, actually. The arcade in my area closed down, though, because apparently the owner was using it as a cover for a money-laundering scheme, or something.”

The boy’s eyes are glittering behind his glasses lenses, amused. “Or something?”

You shrug. “Something like that. I can’t remember. It was something illegal, anyway, so they shut down and I haven’t been able to let off steam since.” You pat the machine like it’s a long-lost friend, and he follows your movements with that mildly amused expression on his face. “This is the game that I normally play. Well, not this exact one, but we had one of these in my old arcade.” You pause. “Before the illegal—”

“—before the illegal business, perhaps,” the boy says, and you grin.

“Exactly. I don’t know, but something about these games are just so… stress-relieving. I love them so much.” You glance at your score on the screen, still somehow flashing up even though you’ve finished the game a while ago, and smile proudly. “Back at my old arcade, this was ‘my territory’. No one could touch this game because they knew it was mine.”

That has the boy smiling, an amused twitching of the lips, glasses flashing as he holds out his hand to you. “I’m Wonwoo.”

“Um.” You blink, a little confused by the sudden introduction, but you shake his hand. Wonwoo’s grip is firm, warm, and his eyes seem to light up when your palm makes contact with his. “I’m Y/N?”

“You’re Y/N?” he says, voice a little teasing, mimicking the questioning lilt you’d unintentionally added to the end of your sentence. “Are you sure?”

You roll your eyes, unable to help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

He laughs, a soft chuckle that makes your heart clunk oddly in your chest. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, releasing your hand to gesture to the game machine, “and in this arcade, this game is my territory.”

You blink, and then your eyes widen. “Oh my god,” you say, laughing a little. “That’s such an incredible coincidence. Wait, does that mean that all of these scores are yours, too?” You point to the screen, and Wonwoo grins.

“Maybe. No one else has touched this game in years. Not since I’ve claimed it.”

You nod appraisingly. “You’re pretty good,” you say, as if giving him your grudging respect, and he smiles again. “Not as good as me, unfortunately.”

That makes him pause, raising an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, Y/N?”

“Maybe,” you chirp, drawing yourself up to full height, looking him right in the eye. “Will you be willing to take the challenge, Mr. Wonwoo?”

Wonwoo tilts his head, observing you quietly for a moment, before the corner of his mouth quirks up in a half-smile, confident and gentle and shy and eager all at once. He drops his bag from his shoulder and steps closer to you, eyes bright with an emotion you can’t quite name.

“Game on.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @butiluvu @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @sakufilms

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kira-broflovski · 1 year

Text

Secret || Kyle Broflovski x Reader

note: characters are aged up to high school!! decided to add an element of social media into this one 🫣

It was an evening just like any other in the Marsh residence. However, in a moment of impulse, Randy decided to treat Sharon for a night out.

Shelly was now in charge of her younger brother and sister, Stan and Y/N. Not that either of you needed supervision considering you were in your senior year of high school. Your older sister was fully aware of this, so she just kept to herself in the living room.

She decided to reside downstairs, also knowing that you and Stan would stay in your respective rooms.

Playing all the video games he wanted with nobody to tell him to keep it down, Stan lazed about in his room and mumbled along to his gaming playlist that was blasting from his speaker. He sat back without a care in the world. Although, he was starting to get a little hungry.

Then, there was you. Cool wind was blowing in from your wide-open window, your 'love' playlist contrasting the music coming from your brother's room, as you laid on your bed and texted your boyfriend.

The boyfriend that nobody else knew about, none other than Kyle Broflovski, of course.

You had been dating Kyle for a few months now, and how you haven't been caught is a mystery to both of you.

Most of your conversations did happen over the phone for the sake of not blowing your cover, just like the conversation you were having with him right now. God forbid Stan found out about his own best friend dating his twin sister!

You mentioned your parents were out, so Kyle decided to play a risky game.

Curious, you slowly turned your head to look at the window like your boyfriend had said to do. You jumped out of surprise, not exactly expecting said boyfriend to be leaning into the window.

"Kyle?" You whisper-shouted.

"Help me in." He laughed.

You scrambled out of bed to help, not wanting him to get hurt.

Your room was at the side of the house where the garage was underneath the window, so Kyle had somehow got onto the roof and waited for you to notice him standing in your open window.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, sitting back down on your bed.

"Uh, I didn't want to wait to see you again." He shot you a sheepish smile that you couldn't stay mad at.

Shaking your head and laughing quietly, you patted the bed next to you and he immediately sat down beside you. He threw his arms around you, unable to contain his affection. You laid back, still holding Kyle in your arms, and he gladly leaned back with you, getting as close as physically possible.

Thankfully, the music playing from both your room and Stan's room was loud enough that your brother next door couldn't hear anything, nor could Shelly downstairs.

After taking a deep breath, Kyle mumbled into your neck, "this is nice."

"Yeah, it is."

Due to your relationship being a secret, moments like these were rare. But that made you both appreciate them much more.

The last time Kyle was able to sneak in was a month ago. He told his parents he would be at Stan's, which wasn't a total lie, but they didn't know Stan was out on a camping trip with his scouts group.

Everything was going well. You and Kyle just laying in each other's arms, listening to music and talking about whatever came to mind.

It seems, however, the music was a little too loud as you didn't hear Stan walking downstairs, back up, and down the hall.

"Hey, Y/N, Shelly's ordering food so— what the fuck!?" He interrupted himself when he saw a random person laying with you.

"Oh shit!" You yelped.

"Who the fuck is that?" He couldn't see who it was as Kyle's hood was up and he was facing away from the door, where Stan was stood with his arms crossed.

"Uh..." You had no idea what to say. What could you say?

Kyle slowly got off of you, still refusing to turn around and face his best friend. This was not how either of you were expecting your relationship to be found out.

"Well?" Stan stepped closer.

Knowing there was no getting out of it, Kyle slowly turned around and looked at him.

"Kyle!?"

"Now, Stan, listen—" you started.

"Listen? What the fuck is going on here?" Your brother exploded. "Guys, I'm not fucking stupid, so don't treat me like I am."

"We never said you were," Kyle mumbled.

If looks could kill, Kyle would be dead where he sat.

"Of all people, you decided to date my best friend?"

"Stan."

"How long have the both of you been doing all this behind my back?"

"Stan!"

"Answer my question, Y/N."

"A few months." You mumbled.

"Months!?" He yelled out of disbelief, feeling like he had been betrayed by two of the closest people in his life. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Listen! For once, just fucking listen." You got up and stood in front of him, getting fed up of his shouting.

Kyle stared at the floor and played with his hands nervously.

"Neither of us can control who we like, alright? And we just so happen to like each other. We knew you'd try to stop us, so we kept it from you and have been dating in secret." You stated calmly. "He treats me so fucking well and makes me feel like nobody ever has in my life, so excuse me for wanting what's best for me, Stan."

"But my best friend? Really?"

In reality, he had no idea what else to say. He knew you were right as he knows you've been happier the past few months.

"Hey, I didn't say shit when you started dating Wendy!" Now it was your turn to get mad.

Your brother stared back and forth at the two of you in disbelief, trying to find something to say. "Just wait until mom and dad find out about this."

You simply rolled your eyes in response, and Stan turned to Kyle.

"I'll tell your fucking parents as well, about how you've secretly been dating my sister. I'm sure they'll love that!" He pointed a finger deep into Kyle's chest, before turning around and storming out, slamming the door on his way out.

A couple minutes of uncomfortable silence passed before Kyle peeped up. "That could've gone a lot better..."

"Tell me about it." You sat back down and grabbed your phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Texting Shelly what we want to eat."

#kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski #south park #south park x reader #south park x y/n #south park boys #stan marsh #shelly marsh #randy marsh #sharon marsh

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thecameronchronicles · 2 years

Text

The Dare

PART 2!

TW: Masturbation, smut, language, angst.

SUMMARY: A dare during a sleepover leads you to learn just how badly Rafe wants you…

WORD COUNT:

The Dare

“You can’t be serious…” The words left your lips behind a heavy scoff that led Sarah and Kiara’s eyes to connect in silent confirmation before looking back to you with shared agreement.

“It’s only fair with the picture you made me send to Topper-” Sarah explained.

“AND the text you had me send to John B-” Kiara added, “I’m just glad he didn’t answer…” She muttered, half relieved and half disappointed.

“This is different! You’re dating Top! And Kie and John B just have to get a bit of a push-Technically I did you favors-” You tried to convince your supposed friends to alter their minds, but found the expressions of pride and amusement spread across their faces to inform you that this would be futile.

“Consider this karma…” Kie lifted her drink as if to cheers to her own words before finishing the contents of her makeshift cocktail, courtesy of stolen liquor from Tannyhill’s kitchen under the allowance of a lack of parental supervision.

“Besides…I remember a time when you LIKED Rafe-” Kie’s eyes flashed in surprise as this was a detail she couldn’t have possibly have known as her and Sarah had only been friends for a few months but appeared as close as sisters, a friendship recently sweetened by the reconnection you made with the middle Cameron after drifting apart following Junior year.

“I did not!” You lied, your cheeks betraying your attempts to convince them otherwise. In truth, Rafe Cameron always had your thighs pressing together with the way his voice said your name and his full lips pulled to a grin when he noticed your eyes making note of him.

“It’s only fair…” Kie teased as you now shot up to your feet in objection.

“I don’t want to play anymore-”

“Oh come on…” Sarah whined, “You don’t get to get out of it so easily…Not after we followed through on OUR dares…”

“Then I change mine to truth-” You spoke quickly, not caring to hide the pout from your lips.

“Didn’t realize we were playing with Wheezie-” Sarah taunted in reference to a version of ‘truth or dare’ with her sister where the latter was excluded.

“If you don’t do this, I am ABSOLUTELY telling Rafe that you used to have a thing for him.” Kie interjected as you scowled at her.

“Is it REALLY worth him holding that over your head over just stealing his phone?” Sarah added, the peer pressure making you anxious.

“Why do you even want it? I mean…what if he’s using it or something…” You continued to try and convince them of an alternative torment, but they were too convinced of their aforementioned decision.

“The fact he hasn’t been down her ‘perving’ on you or Kie in the last hour tells me he’s definitely asleep. And I have my own reasons for wanting it…so…” Sarah and Kie stared at you with growing excitement to see you squirm behind a series of grunts and groans.

“Five minutes and an impromptu 007 mission or a lifetime of Rafe knowing you used to have a thing for him…Every time you come over having to hear him tell Topper and Kelce how you missed your chance with him…Every dinner him finding an excuse to remind you-” Your mind darted at the thought of him teasing you with this, a detail you couldn’t fathom having to live through as you could barely handle the touchless banter you shared now.

“Okay!” But this is blackmail-'' You glared before reluctantly crossing into the corridor responsible for holding the ascension of the staircase leading to the bedrooms. The second your hand wrapped around the railing, you considered returning to them to say you couldn’t find it or he was awake. But an even larger portion of you was desperate to have an excuse to be close to him. He made this a necessity by the way he greeted you with his usual teasing and his eyes kept on you until he climbed those very stairs a few hours prior. It was maddening-but also enough to commit to this action.

By the time you reached the top of the steps, having turned back when hearing Kie and Sarah chuckle at your expense, you were now a mess of tremors and anxiety. It would only take approximately ten steps before you’d reach his door and you were horrified on how you would go about it.

What if he wasn’t asleep? What would you say that would make your presence believable at two in the morning?

“Three minutes-” Sarah called as if to remind you of your mission as you turned back to shush her, ultimately deciding that the lesser of two evils would have to work as being appealing enough to convince you forward. Pressing your ear to his door, you weren’t able to hear anything close to a conscious Rafe, who was usually in motion one way or another. Validated enough for your entry, you twisted the knob slowly before finding a dark room set before you, relief relaxing your nerves for a time as you realized he had been asleep.

You were thankful for the darkness for many reasons, but mostly for it making it impossible to appreciate his figure which had beckoned you since he had begun to take care of himself in the last few years. But the thought of this gratefulness left you to think of the muscles in question; specifically how they would collect you in passion and pull you around as he saw fit. But with this existing only as a fantasy, you were able to return your focus rather quickly to your task.

A deep groan stilled you as the springs from the bed gave away the adjustment as you lowered behind the rival side of the bed as you began to conjure a thousand varied explanations from throwing Sarah under the bus or claiming you simply walked into the wrong room. But before you could begin either or, you heard it again. Only this time, it was spoken in the accompaniment of a deep breath.

“Fuck…” He groaned, your eyes widening as you deduced quickly that he certainly wasn’t asleep. Instead, he had been portraying the most decadent moans, keeping your gaze locked onto him as you were able to make out the motions of self pleasure embedded in the darkness before you.

“Walking around in those shorts…thinkin’ you can get away with that shit…” He moaned, the sound of self pleasure breaking the silence of your deafening heartbeat as you kept yourself concealed at the side of the bed, remaining magnetized to the way his body moved to his ecstasy, you were further rooted by his words.

“Yeah-you like this cock, baby?” Your skin became impossibly hot, the words continuing to narrate his thoughts aloud that you had only imagined when you were alone in your own room with ideas synonymous to these. It was the very guttural groans and vulgar mentions that left you pulsating and in need of a release all your own, confusing and guilting you in equal measure of just how distracting it had been.

“You’ve wanted this a long time, yeah? Go ahead-take it…Like THIS” Half of your body tightened at the drawl of his words lengthened from his unsteady breathing before the fear of being found kept you motionless but still in analysis of him.

“SO GOOD-I knew you’d feel so good…” He now spoke behind clenched teeth, the illumination of his phone pushed you further into your weak cover as he continued to moan and groan between the slick sounds of self gratification.

Quickening pumps making your mouth dry from anticipation, you were able to view the motivation behind his desire. You imagined the type of girl he would go for, immediately comparing yourself to the painful belief you were nothing more than something to torture for him. But it wasn’t a prissy girl who spent way too much money on deceptive beauty enhancers that the likes of his friends would be vying for.

It was you.

Photos you posted without a second thought, ignorant at how it had clearly affected him.

“Shit!” His body began to move wildly before you, the bed buckling beneath him as he quickened his inability to control his reaction to his thoughts of you.

“I can’t wait any more…Gotta cum in that pussy gotta-gotta-fuck!” With that final breath before his release, Rafe expelled your name, verifying once and for all that he held the same lustful thoughts you had possessed since you’d known him. Those once innocent butterflies now exchanged for scorching embers drifting well beyond your stomach and now settled between your thighs.

“Shit…” He breathed out, rising to the side of the bed, feet made flat with the hardwood supporting his entire room, all while you prayed to remain unseen.

Whether it was the haze of a recent orgasm, the darkness of the room, or the fact that he was simply THAT careless, he hadn’t noticed your body’s attempt to hide in the side of the bed as he disappeared into the connected bathroom. But it was this ignorance that allowed you to move to your feet and set for your exit.

For a moment, you looked back at his phone, considering if you should try for it to ensure that Sarah and Kiara kept your crush a secret. But not wanting to risk having to explain yourself in your current state; soaked nearly down to your kenes, panting, and with a blush you were certain he’d still be able to make out despite the sygian setting of your surroundings, you left it at your back and turned to the door.

Your heart stopped.

The sudden appearance of a large hand set against the frame of the door keeping it closed led your eyes to run up the flexed muscle, until you met with Rafe’s lust blown eyes illuminated by the sliver of moonlight allowed by the bathroom door falling open from his exit.

“And where do you think you’re going?” His voice, low with lust, had your lips part in a quick attempt to make up some sort of an excuse. But instead, you were left swallowing hard at the way he now carried his second hand to pin your back against the door.

“I-I-Sarah’s waiting for me…” You hoped this would be enough to deter whatever thoughts he intended to make a reality, but you also knew Rafe was sporadic and reckless-making up part of his charm, and so you knew if you were in his line of focus, he wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted. And he ALWAYS got what he wanted…

“No…You’re not going anywhere, baby…”

Part 2?

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts

#outer banks #outerbanks #rafe cameron #rafecameron #obx #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron smut #drew starkey #netflix #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks smut #obxsmut

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typical-simplelove · 3 months

Text

Guilty (W. Nylander)

Summary: Based on the title song by Jordana Bryant, it's easy to hide your feelings for your best friend because, after all, you're guilty of loving him.

Author's Note: Hi! This is for @lifeofpriya for @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange! I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Warnings: None that I can think of!

Word Count: 5k (Including song lyrics)

gif very generously made by @wyattjohnston :)

likes are appreciated, reblogs are better!

I've been working way too hard to act like I don't care If I got paid to hide the truth, I'd be a millionaire

Walking into Willy’s house always felt different from walking into your own house. Physically, it was different. The smells were different. The furniture was distinctly different from the ones your mother picked out. All of the wall decorations screamed Nylander in a way that you never knew possible until you saw those exact paintings. The pictures adorning coffee tables, shelves, and walls were different (obviously). All these differences were good, despite how different and odd it was.

Maybe it wasn’t the physical differences that impacted what you felt when you walked into their home. Maybe it was the smile and pat on the shoulder you got from Willy’s brother, or maybe it was the brief hug his mother always gave you, or maybe it was the way Willy would jump up and down until you took off your boots and coat before he could take your hand and drag you toward whatever toy or game he was obsessed with at that moment.

Maybe it was just Willy that made it different walking into his house in comparison to yours.

At your home, it was you and your family. While you loved your home and loved being at home, it wasn’t the same feeling as going to Willy’s house and seeing him. Part of him always made your bad days better. And that continued all through elementary school into middle and high school. You felt just as much at home with Willy’s family as you did with yours.

And a lot of that had to do with Willy.

One of the memories and traditions you have with Willy and his family is Christmas cookie decorating. Every Christmas Eve, your family and his would gather together and make and decorate cookies.

When you and Willy and your siblings were little, you would all watch your parents as they baked the cookies. You, kids, would sit at stools by the counter, drinking milk, and watching the cookies get made. Sometimes, you would play small card games—not getting in the way of the adults, making the cookies, and warming up with sips of wine.

That was how it was done.

As you kids got older, more freedom was given, and you were allowed to help with the baking but under strict supervision because after all everyone still planned on eating the cookies. Mostly, though, your favorite part was decorating the cookies. It wasn’t ever a competition, but between you and Willy, it was a competition. With that man? Of course, it was; everything is a competition to him.

It was always a competition of who had the most colorful cookies, who had the most realistic cookies, who had the least scary cookies, and who had the overall best cookies.

No one really ever wanted to judge the competition. It is always just you and Willy judging each other’s cookies, but because you were each biased towards your own cookies, no one was ever crowned a winner.

“Oh, come on, you know mine is better,” you would chide, sending him a sweet smile, hoping he’d also smile at you and declare your cookies better.

“They’re really not,” he’d reply, smiling at you, looking at you like you owned a sugar factor. “If anything, mine are better.”

An eye roll would always follow that because there was no way his cookies were better than yours, and oftentimes, yours were better because Willy just didn’t have that skill.

By the time all of the cookies were finished being decorated and all the milk drank, Willy ended up relenting, calling your cookies better. It didn’t take much nagging. By the time he relented, it would have been at least an hour or more since you bugged him about the cookies.

“I give up,” Willy would say out of nowhere. “Your cookies are much better than mine.”

“Really?”

“Mh-hm,” he’d tell you, nodding his head in a similar rhythm. “Always have been, always will be. That’s the way it goes. You always have been and always will be the better one between the two of us.”

Oh, the things those words did to your little middle school heart.

You look at me, I look away Wouldn't believe the energy it takes But I bet it shows, clear as a sign on the highway

It was sometime during your second year of university that you figured it all out. You were finally able to put words and attributions to the feelings and aura that surround all your interactions with Willy. For so long, you thought it was just an elevated friendship that you felt. You figured that all close friends felt what you felt whenever you were around Willy. Turns out, you were wrong on that front. It wasn’t just friendship. Sure, it was a deeper, elevated friendship, but it was love.

You loved Willy and have loved him for so long.

The little fireworks that explode all over your body when he hugs you or gently brushes against you are more than just friendship.

The warmth that consumes your body whenever he’s near you is more than just friendship.

The ability to know exactly where he was in a room without even seeing him means more than just friendship.

They were signs of love.

It was always more than just friendship, and it was always love for him, your best friend, your Willy.

And as much as you know that you want to tell him your feelings, you know that he probably and likely doesn’t feel the same way about you. You’ve seen the way he acted around previous girlfriends and people he liked, and he wasn’t that way with you. There was no comparison. So why would you put your heart and happiness on the line?

You weren’t going to tell him; you knew you couldn’t ever tell Willy just how much you loved him.

So you didn’t.

You were on the sidelines, and you were guilty of falling madly in love with your best friend. You were guilty of wanting his full and undivided attention. You were guilty of wanting his love and everything a life with him could bring. You wanted it all, but for the sake of still having Willy in your life, you knew you couldn’t say anything.

And you didn’t.

As you moved through university, moved around a little bit, trying to find the right job, you and Willy remained the best of friends. While communication occurred more through texts than phone calls, the connection never wavered. When you moved to Toronto, finally finding a job that fulfilled your needs and long-term goals, it was as if the puzzle pieces had finally fit in place.

Until you remember just how much you loved him and being around him reminded you of your life.

Every time he looked at you, sent a smile your way, laughed at one of your jokes, or praised you for one of your accomplishments, a little fire that only Willy could ignite would start and spark in your heart. There were little parts of your heart, mind, body, and soul that only were triggered whenever you were around Willy. You tried to set boundaries and give distance between the two of you, but sometimes, at the end of a long week or day, all you would want was to be around him.

He is the light and love of your life, and he only saw you as a friend. A close friend, a best friend, but still, only a friend.

It still pains you to think about the state of your feelings, but fully cutting Willy out of your life was going to do much more harm than good, you know. You know it deep in your soul, that’s why you’ve refused to fully step back from him and his life and orbit.

At the end of the day, all you were to Willy was a friend, and while you weren’t okay with that, you’ve found peace with it. You’re going to take in all the little moments with him, trying not to read into it too much, but you’re not going to hate yourself or be disappointed in yourself for soaking it in and loving it. Because, after all, you can’t control your feelings. It’s biological and psychological—things you can’t control.

You were guilty of falling in love with Willy, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

So, you’ve resulted in being his friend, and for the most part, you were okay with that.

Really.

Or so you tried to convince yourself.

That I'm guilty of love, guilty, so what? I'm guilty of thinking of you too much These feelings just won't quit So I'll admit it I'm guilty of you stuck in my heart Guilty of wanting to be in your arms Wanting a kiss, wanting a call, wanting to fall I'm guilty of it all, all, all, all, all

“Hello, hello,” you hear Willy’s voice echo from the front door from where you’re sitting in your room. With a slight smile on your face and your face heating up, you walk out of your room to find Willy shrugging off his shoes, and bags in his hand.

“What’s this for?” you ask, helping take the bags from his hand, and leading him towards your kitchen.

“You know how we’re going to that concert in a few months?”

“Sure.”

“I figure that we could make friendship bracelets for them,” Willy says, hiding a cheeky smile, his cheeks burning red.

“Yeah?” you confirm, too, concealing a familiar smile.

“I figured it’d be fun to binge-listen to their discography as we make bracelets.”

You nod, trying to hold in and push away the feelings blooming deep in your heart. This man, oh, the things this man could make you feel with an afternoon of crafting.

With an emotion that can only be described as giddiness and elation, Willy pulls out the various friendship bracelet kits and separate bags of beads in your and his favorite colors in addition to various types of string. In doing so, he said various things that made your stomach clench, but for the sake of your heart and long-term plan, you pretend you’re not feeling those feelings.

“I didn’t know which type of string is best, so I figured we could just go with trial-and-error.” “There are more beads of your favorite color because I guess you’d rather wear those colors more than your lesser favorite colors.” “I remember you telling me the color of the outfit you planned, so I also got more of those beads.”

You couldn’t help the wide smile on your face with every word that left his mouth. Who knew this man could be so precious and thoughtful? Well, you did know just how precious and thoughtful he could be because, after all, you did fall in love with him.

“Are you ready to get started?” he asks, eyeing you, giving you curious but nervous looks. “If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to. I could always return it.”

Oh, he was so cute when he was nervous.

“Willy, I promise that I want to do this,” you reassure.

“Okay,” he breathes out. “I’m just going to go get some water.”

You nod, watching as he seamlessly maneuvers around your kitchen, grabbing water, snacks, and drinks for the two of you. The way he easily fit into your home life caused a knot in your throat. How easy would it be for him to fit and fill into the remainder of your life? Well, the delusional thoughts were going too far now; it’s time to pack those away.

As you and Willy began to make the bracelets, you managed to have fun, pushing away thoughts about you and Willy being more than friends. If you were going to survive your friendship with him, then you were going to push those thoughts to the back of your mind, choosing to remember the platonic moments between the two of you.

This plan went down the drain when Willy was having difficulty putting the smaller, letter beads on the string and you had to help him. As you helped him with your technique, your fingers often brushed against his. The roughness of the tips of his fingers but the softness of the palms of his hands overwhelmed you.

This man.

One day at a time is the way to go, right?

Yeah, I don't mind At least these words ain't locked up in my head Those eyes that smile Guess I was buying time 'til I confessеd

It was inching closer and closer to midnight, well past the time you should be in bed to have a decent amount of resting time before having to go to work tomorrow. But, it was as if your body wouldn’t let you finish your night routine and make your way to your bedroom.

You were sitting on your couch with a re-run of one of your favorite now-ended sitcoms playing in the background. It was as if you were glued to the couch. As much as you wanted to get up, you knew you couldn’t and wouldn’t.

It’s not like you don’t know why you’re stuck on the couch. You know exactly why you’re stuck there, and the reason just pains you more and more. It’s not like it’s his fault that the picture he posted on his private story would freak you out or pain you. It’s his prerogative. He’s allowed to hang out with whomever he pleases, and if they’re pretty girls with long, gorgeous legs, then so be it. He had his own life, and he was allowed to do whatever he wanted.

There was a reason why you haven’t told Willy your feelings for him, and part of it is the fear that he doesn’t have feelings back for you. And, with that territory comes the idea that he’ll be spending his time with other people—other girls. You know how important it is for him to find a life partner, so of course he would be doing that on a night off when he didn’t have any early plans or obligations the next day.

That doesn’t mean your decisions and choices don’t haunt you and cause you visceral aching.

This now leads to why you’re currently sitting on your couch, unable to move, shocked at the pictures you’re seeing on his private story. He’s all over this girl, and this girl is all over him. Good for him, you think because this girl is gorgeous. Good for her, too, you follow up because Willy is a great person.

As the clock struck midnight and the minutes into the new day got closer, you kept replaying his story, overanalyzing the images, trying to see if there were any signs that he was being held captive. Because that could be an explanation, right?

By twelve-thirty, wiping away stray tears, you decide to get up and go to bed. This wasn’t going to help your feelings or make you feel any better. You’ve been good at hiding your feelings (at least you think so). This means that there’s no reason for him to think you want anything more than friendship with him, so why else would he be waiting around for you? You’re sure if you gave him a sign, then he would act on it if he felt any particular way about you. You also know that Willy is a confident person, so if he felt anything more for you, then he would make it clear. He’s not one to keep things hidden; he wears his heart on his sleeve and makes his thoughts and intentions clear. He would have told you or given you a sign.

Therefore, you conclude there shouldn’t be any reason for you to be upset by his hanging around this other girl. He has a right to do whatever he wants, and he does not need to listen to you or report to you.

With that, you place your phone on your nightstand and finish getting ready to go to bed. As you’re brushing your teeth, you tell yourself that you’re not going to check Instagram one last time before you sleep. You know that if you see another photo of him—regardless if anyone is in the photo with him—you’ll spiral and obsess over every little thing. He’s one of your closest friends (and vice versa), so every little thing that seems different in a picture, phone call, or text sticks out to you. You tell each other everything (for the most part), so little changes are interesting and concerning. And you want to notice something different so that you have a reason to text him or call him in the morning and bring up his night out. You wanted any excuse to bring up his night out without sounding jealous, bitter, or judgmental.

But for your sanity, you’re not going to check his story again. It wouldn’t do your mental health or relative stability any good.

By the time you’re ready to go to bed, you’ve considered picking up your phone at least two and a half dozen times, but surprisingly, your self-control is holding strong.

But you can’t fall asleep, constantly tossing and turning. It’s a quarter after one, and all you want to do is call him. Even if it’s not about his night out or anything important, you want to talk to him. His smooth, deep voice never fails to put a smile on your face and calm you down. In some instances, his voice can put you to sleep.

As much as you want to call him, part of you knows that you’ll be nosey and ask about his night out and what he did, and just hearing what he did—whether or not he tells you the truth—will pain you in ways unimaginable. You want to know, but you also don’t want to know. Though, you still want to hear his voice.

Man, having crushes and being in love is so embarrassing sometimes. Why, just why??

You don’t call him, and end up falling asleep a little while later after tossing and turning. It’s for the best, you reason. You wouldn’t know what would happen if you talked to him. Maybe it’d be best just not to bring tonight up at all, you know, out of self-preservation.

Little did you know, Willy was sitting in his bed, alone, trying to find any reason or excuse to call or text you. Just so that you had something to wake up to from him in the morning.

So now you know, so do all my friends And the town's smaller than it's ever been They all know

After obsessing way too long about the pictures on his story from that night a few weeks prior, you thought you had gotten over it. You thought that you could ignore the ugly feelings of jealousy and dread deep in your stomach weren’t there. You thought you could look at Willy and not immediately picture the images of him with that girl.

It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t like he knew what him living his life was doing to you, and you weren’t angry at him. You were jealous and sad and wished you could control these ugly feelings. You wished those images weren’t seared into your memory, but they were, and you felt those feelings.

But the way you felt when he smiled at you greatly topped the other feelings you had.

Until he flashed that smile, those sparkling eyes, that persuasive tone to some random girl at the bar.

It wasn’t the same person from the other night (you would know; that image is burned into your memory for the rest of your life). It was someone else, but from the way Willy was looking at her, he seemed into her, despite only meeting.

The bartender had just taken Willy’s order, but within seconds, he was flagging them down again and asking that girl for her order. Once it was taken, his hand was low on her hips as he pulled her closer to his body.

He was whispering into her ears, and it made your stomach drop. It felt like you wanted to throw up, but you were wedged between some friends. A glance at the bathroom’s long line made you realize that the chance of a swift escape was futile. He’d be waiting for you, and at this moment, you didn’t want to explain to him why you didn’t want to talk to him.

It wasn’t like Willy knew what he was doing when he was doing this. At the end of the day, you and Willy were just friends, so it didn’t matter.

But.

But, oh gosh.

Weren’t you just so guilty for the way it made your heart patter every time he glanced at you? Weren’t you so guilty for how happy it made you feel when you’d look over at you and you’d see that he was already looking at you? Weren’t you incredibly guilty for how happy it felt when he chose to sit next to you? Weren’t you incredibly guilty for the happy feelings you felt when he’d text you, even if it was over something mundane?

All those happy feelings were flushed down the drain by the way Willy touched that girl’s hair and lingered his fingertips down her neck. It wasn’t his fault, but the way you felt couldn’t be controlled. While you recognized that, it still hurt knowing you couldn’t have your best friend like that.

You’re gripping your glass tightly, hoping that none of your friends can sense your inner turmoil. They would try to get you to talk to him, or they would try to get you to get over him. Neither of those options was one you wanted right now. Or maybe ever.

When you happened to look up at Willy and that girl, shock hit you as you watched him already looking at you over the girl’s shoulder. She was whispering something to him, but all he was doing was looking at you. By the way that she was pulling at his hair, it was something intimate, but he was staring with his eyes open right at you.

That was weird.

Right?

Clearing your throat for no one, you broke the intense stare and looked down at your phone, checking your phone for the millionth time. You’re staring at the notifications on your lock screen so intently that you don’t notice Willy slide into the booth next to you.

“Was she not your cup of tea?” you ask, internally smacking your face for asking that.

He shrugs. “She’s really pretty, and I’m sure she’s a great person. I just wasn’t feeling it.”

You snort. “That’s such a dude thing to say.”

“Hey!” Willy says, feigning annoyance, slightly pushing your arm. “I have my eye on someone else, so it would be fair to that girl.”

“If you have your eye on someone else, then you should just tell them,” you reply, your heart beating rapidly. “If they know what’s good for them, they won’t turn you down. I can promise you that.”

Willy’s eyes are intently staring at you.

“Okay,” he replies, eyes not leaving yours or blinking. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you answer.

“Okay,” he responds, the air thick with tension. If he wants to say something else, he doesn’t. Either he loses his nerve or it’s the burst of laughter to your right that strikes him out of the trance.

Not you, though. You’re not entirely sure what just happened. Did something just happen?

I'm guilty of love, guilty, so what? I'm guilty of thinking of you too much These feelings just won't quit So I'll admit it I'm guilty of you stuck in my heart Guilty of wanting to be in your arms Wanting a kiss, wanting a call, wanting to fall I'm guilty of it all, all, all, all, all I'm guilty of it all, all, all, all, all

At first, you didn’t think it meant anything. It was a common saying, and you said it all the time. And then he kept on saying it, and you figured that he was just feeling insecure in his friendship or maybe his job or maybe just in his life in general, so you responded and just helped him know he had you as a friend. You didn’t think it meant anything until it did mean something and you realized what he meant.

“I like you,” Willy told you one day while watching a rerun of your favorite show.

“I like you, too,” you reassured, patting his hand before grabbing the next pencil crayon for your color-by-the-number coloring page.

“What?” you heard him mumble. He shook his head to himself before turning back to the show.

The next time he did it, you and Willy were walking through the grocery store, finding snacks to bring to an upcoming football night.

“I think four bags of chips should be more than enough, considering we’re also bringing cheese and crackers,” you said out loud but mostly to yourself.

“I like you,” Willy responded, grasping a bag of chips on the shelf.

“I like you, too, but that doesn’t mean we need five bags,” you commented. “Unless, you wanted that bag for your apartment, then do whatever you want.”

With that, you grab the shopping basket and start walking down the aisle toward the next thing you need.

And it kept happening. At random moments, he would just tell you that he liked you, and it didn’t really click in your mind. In a sense, you’re similar. When things get tough in any part of your life, you reassure yourself of your favorite things in your life as a grounding technique. You didn’t think anything of his words.

Until he said it to you once, and his face was burning red—the only time you’ve actually looked at him when he said those words.

It was game night at your place. Well, a game night for you and Willy, and you were playing Monopoly. He had just landed on one of your properties, and you were looking down at the property listing to determine how much he owed you.

“Eighty monopoly dollars for New York Avenue please,” you said with a small smirk, looking up. You scrunched your eyebrows when you noticed the little beads of sweat at his hairline and how red his face had gotten. “It’s only eighty dollars, Will.”

“I like you,” he whispers, barely meeting your eyes. With his words, his face grew a deep shade of red, and his frantic blinking seemed to be what made you finally realize the meaning of what he was saying.

“Oh,” you whispered, unsure of where to go next. You’ve been in love with Willy for as long as you can remember, and now that you know he feels the same way, you’re not sure where to go from here or what to say. What does one say to their best friend that they’ve been secretly in love with for years and were convinced that there were never any feelings between the two of them?

And then all the times he said those words to you over the past few months came rushing back to you.

Months!

He’s been telling you he loves you for months, and you kept brushing it off.

You have to give him credit for not giving up.

But, you still have to face plant. And you do.

“Oh my goodness, oh my goodness,” you keep chanting to yourself as you push your chair back and make your way to your kitchen counter to get a drink of cold water. You’re both happy that you know but you’re also embarrassed at yourself for not noticing.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you hear Willy mumbling from where he’s sitting at your table just a few feet away. That takes you out of your trance. He must think you’re rejecting him.

“No, stop,” you blurt out, rushing towards him.

You’re standing next to him, and he shifts in his chair to face you. He’s staring straight ahead, not looking up at your face. Gently, you wrap your hands in his hair and angle his head to face yours.

“Did I do something wrong?” he whispers.

You shake your head. “No, I’m just an idiot.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you for so long, and you didn’t say anything. At this point, it’s gotten pathetic,” he whispers, his eyes closing at the way you’re massaging his scalp. “Please tell me if I’ve gotten it wrong.”

“I got it wrong if anything.”

“Really?” Willy’s eyes open, lazy from being comfortable with the way you’re holding him.

“I like you, too, Willy,” you whisper. “You know, maybe I even love you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “A lot, and I’m really stupid for not recognizing what you were saying. I guess I was completely convinced you could never love me that I didn’t take it as that.”

“Love?”

“Shit,” you murmur, pulling your hands out of his hair.

“I’m joking,” Willy says, smirking and pulling you down on his lap. “I love you, too.”

“Okay,” you smile, leaning in to give him a small kiss.

“Okay,” he replies, closing the space. “Always okay for you.”

You were guilty of loving Willy, but he was also guilty of loving you, so maybe it all worked out in the end.

Was guilty of love, so what? If I'm guilty of thinking of you too much These feelings just won't quit So I'll admit it

#willy nylander #william nylander #claudia writes #hockey fic #nhl fic #willy nylander x reader #william nylander x reader #op: 2024 #nhl writing #hockey writing

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