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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

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What Is A Mother, But The Woman Who Loves Us Most?

A Batmom x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: I know there is a story like this already (by a different author) but I should preface that this is a story that I posted a year or so before but deleted my previous blog last year, so it's not going to seem like it. I haven't copied any ideas, this is my own that I posted a year or so ago, and re-posting again now. -Thorne

You are not my mother!

The loathing words came out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he watched the cave go deathly quiet around him. Everyone's eyes were wide, even hers, but a millisecond later, they set in a hard stare as she stood straight, her jaw tightening.

She nodded, staring at him. "You're right Damian. I'm not Talia al Ghul. I'm not your mother. But I will tell you what I am." She raised her left hand, flashing the silver wedding ring on her finger. "I'm your father's wife. And what I tell you to do in this manor is what I expect from you."

He shook his head in anger, glaring at her. "This is my father's manor!"

"No Damian, this is the Wayne Manor. And I've been, to use a rather weathered term, the lady of the house for almost fifteen years. Long before you were even a thought in Talia's mind." He stopped and she crossed her arms. "I may not be your mother, but you are a child and your father and I are the adults. When you turn eighteen, you can make all the decisions you want. Until then, what we say goes."

His lips drew in a taut line and she added, "I've already talked about it to Bruce. You're not allowed on patrol after what happened at the gala. If you want to complain to him about it, he's going to tell you the same thing." Her eyes shifted to the others, then she looked back at him one last time before turning around and walking up the stairs.

When she was gone, he let out a shout in anger and threw silver coffee pot against the cave wall. It hit the wall with a clang and dropped, rolling on the ground a few times as it spilled its contents, much like his mood.

He felt their eyes on them and he whipped his head up, glaring at them. "What?!"

Tim and Jason simply narrowed their eyes at him, but Dick walked forward and knelt in front of him. "Kiddo, that wasn't a nice thing to say to mom."

Damian scoffed at him before shoving past, climbing up the stairs. “Like the three of you haven't said that to her before." There was no return to his statement, giving him all the answer, he needed.

***

He stepped out of the study stretching his arms and listening to the sound of his bones popping before he shifted, moving towards the door. The boys had left a few minutes earlier to catch a rerun of an episode of Vikings, leaving him alone in the cave.

Alfred walked up to him, handing him a sweater before motioning to the door. "Mrs. Wayne has taken a seat out on the patio. I suspect you'll wish to see her."

Bruce nodded, taking the sweater from him before thanking him and moving out of the study and towards the patio. He crossed into the living room as he did, stopping to stare at his four sons passed out on the couch. The TV was still going, so he leaned down, gently taking the remote from Dick's hand and shutting it off.

He set the remote down and started his path again, but stopped when he heard, "You going to check on mom?" He turned around, looking at a his oldest.

Bruce nodded, taking in the sight of Dick’s arms wrapped around all of his brothers. “After you boys told me what happened, I thought I should talk to her about it."

Dick nodded, reaching up and rubbing his eyes, careful not to wake the others beside him. "He didn't mean it...he'll see that when he gets over being angry."

Bruce nodded and leaned over, ruffling his hair. “Tell Jason that you two should stay at the manor tonight...it's too late for you to head home anyway."

Dick started to argue, but a look from his father and quick, “Your mother would have a fit if you two tried to drive home now or later…you know that.”

His son nodded and Bruce turned around once more, this time making his way to the dimly lit patio. His hand curled around the cool metal handle of the sliding glass door, and he quietly opened it, stepping out onto the deck. She lay on the porch swing, covered by a heavy hound’s tooth blanket, with a barely full wine glass in her hand.

He walked towards her and bent over, picking up the wine bottle; he shook it lightly before quipping, "I can't believe you've drank an entire bottle in one sitting."

As if finally noticing his presence, she tipped her head lazily to him and mumbled, "It's empty?"

He snorted and tipped the bottle upside down. "As it was the day before it was bottled."

Bruce paused and grinned as she huffed a laugh and brought the glass she had in her hand up to her mouth. He watched her down the rest of her red wine before she set the glass on the table; he set the bottle beside it and shifted her forward, easing his way behind her until they were both comfortable. She rested her back against his chest, her head dropping against his shoulder. His arms came up around her as he pulled the blanket up to her neck, keeping her warm.

He was quiet for a second then he murmured, "...The boys told me what happened earlier."

There was a moment of silence, then she whispered, "I know I should be used to it after hearing it come from each of them..." She stopped, then continued with, "But it still stings to hear it."

A sad smile crossed his lips as he pressed his lips to her temple. "Of course it stings (Y/N)...you're their mother and you love them." After he didn't receive a response from her, he tipped his head and looked down. "(Y/N)? Love?" She turned her head, and he took in the sight of the tears in her eyes; his face fell at the sight and he brought a hand up, cupping her cheek. "Oh…sweetheart."

(Y/N) choked out a sob and pressed her face into the crook of his neck as she clenched a hand in his sweater. Bruce rested his chin on the top of her head as he rubbed her back, comforting her with quiet words.

***

Damian watched them from the screen door, feeling his heart clench in his chest at the sight of (Y/N) sobbing. He swallowed thickly and stepped back, only to come into contact with someone—something. He let out a quiet gasp and spun around, seeing Dick staring sadly out at his parents, Tim and Jason behind him doing the same.

Damian looked at them and whispered, "What are you three doing?"

Dick glanced at him briefly before motioning to them. "We heard the sliding door open, and we went to listen."

"I didn't know you were eavesdroppers."

A hand came up and cuffed him upside the head; he held his head, glaring at Jason who bit out, "Shut up, two-bit. You were eavesdropping too."

Damian opened his mouth to retort, but shut it and turned back around, looking at her. A moment passed, then he mumbled, "You said the same thing I did." He looked up at his brothers, who wore clouded expressions; each of them nodded after a few seconds, and he asked, "What happened?"

Dick was the first to speak, remembering a time from when he was a mere ten years old.

***

He stomped angrily through the house, not even caring about her following him; she called after him repeatedly. "Dick. Dick, honey, stop for a second."

He didn't listen, still moving. "No! You grounded me!"

"And I grounded you for a reason. You deliberately disobeyed me." He grunted at her and she called out, her voice ringing with authority, "Richard John Grayson. Not another step young man." He stopped at it and she continued, "You left the cave tonight and went on patrol without asking. As your mom-"

He spun around, his eyes angered as he spit, "You're not my mom! Stop acting like it!" Her mouth shut, and her eyes went wide from the declarations.

She blinked, obviously stunned at his words, and she stared down at her hands murmuring, "I may not be your real mother...but I...I am...I..." She drew off, bringing a hand up to wipe at her cheek. Dick's widened when she looked up at him, and he saw the tears beginning to spill, running down her cheeks.

He raised his hands out to her. "Wait! I—I didn't mean it!"

(Y/N) looked down and she brought a hand up to her mouth, moving past him, letting out a broken, 'excuse me'. He watched her go past him, then a few moments later, Bruce walked into the room and he turned to him.

"Bruce!" Bruce looked down at him, taking in the sight of Dick, who was almost in tears.

The lecture he had ready for him went out the window as he squatted in front of Dick. "Dick?"

The boy looked up at him, tears filling those big blue eyes. "I—I messed up B-Bruce."

He reached out a hand, wiping his tears away. "What happened Dick?"

Dick lowered his head and he whispered, "I a—accidently told (Y/N) that she wasn't my m-mom."

Bruce sighed at him and murmured, “Oh, Dick." The boy began to sob, and Bruce reached out, pulling him into a hug. "It's okay, bud."

***

Dick looked at her and murmured, "I've never forgotten the look she gave me after I said it to her..." He looked down at Damian, and said, "And neither has she."

Jason nodded at that. "I'm sure she's never forgotten how I left the cave telling her I had to go find my real mom.

***

"What are you looking at baby?"

He jerked forward, clicking the screen to minimize the images. "Nothing!" He spun around to see her walking towards him, an amused smile on her face.

"And I'm assuming that nothing is not important?" She questioned.

He nodded. "Not at all."

She stared at him until he sighed and turned around, clicking the screen to reveal the images of the three women; she walked up to him. "Who are these women?"

He pointed to each one. "Sharmin Rosen, Lady Shiva, and Sheila Haywood."

(Y/N) nodded, looking at them. "They're very pretty women." She paused and looked at him. "But why are you looking at them." He dropped his gaze and picked at his fingers. "Jason? Hon?"

He looked back up at her. "One of them is my mom."

Her eyes widened as she said, "Like...your biological mom?"

He nodded. "I found out after I went back to my old apartment." He looked between the screen and (Y/N). "I'm gonna track them down." She was silent, her eyes moving to the screen, and he turned to her, rising from the chair. "I have to go find them...I have to go find my real mom."

***

"And those were the last words I ever said to Ma." They stared at Jason as he leaned against a table by the door. "And it got a lot worse when I came back...I said horrible things to Ma...about her not caring...about her not being a mother." He went silent and shook his head. "I fucked up a lot of things between us for a good couple years."

Tim watched him, then nodded. "I hadn't even realized I'd actually said it to mom...it was such an offhanded comment that I didn't even know what I said until she was gone."

***

He barely registered the sound of his bedroom door opening, let alone the sound of her footsteps as she walked up to him. He did, however, hear the disappointment in her tone as she said, "Timmy...you need to go to bed."

He shook his head, typing on the keyboard. "I'm fine."

"Honey, you've been awake for almost forty-eight hours." She rested a hand on his shoulder. "It's not good for your body if you stay up like this."

"I'm fine. Really, I'm good."

She squeezed his shoulder, the other hand reaching out to close the laptop. "You'll be good when you're asleep in bed." Skimming the top of this laptop, she stopped when his curled around her wrist.

He turned to her and said, "Will you stop mothering me? I'm fine. I don't need your help."

He let go of her and turned back to the screen, barely registering the way she quietly whispered, “Alright Timmy...goodnight”, and walked out of his room.

***

"The only reason I actually realized what I said was after a few minutes, I realized that she hadn't told me she loved me after saying good night." He paused, digging a groove into the carpet with his toes. "Mom didn't say anything about it the next day, but I could tell that something had shifted. She was more reserved when it came to me." He looked at Damian. "Look, I know you and I don't get along, but I'm going to tell you something brother to brother. Go apologize to mom and tell her that you didn't mean it."

It was all he said before he looked at the others and waved. "I'm going to bed.

Jason soon followed saying, "I'm with Timbers. I'm gonna go crash."

The two of them began making their way to their rooms when the sound of the screen door opening and closing brought their attention back. They looked towards it, seeing Bruce carrying (Y/N), her head pressed against his chest.

He stopped when he saw them, his surprised look giving way to a hard expression. "Were you four watching?" They all started making excuses, but he shushed them, nodding at their sleeping mother; they shut their mouths and he brought his foot back, sliding the door closed.

"Is mom alright?"

Bruce looked at Dick and nodded. "She's fine. Wine drunk...but fine." He looked down at Damian. "(Y/N) does a lot for all of us. You owe her an apology when she wakes up." Damian nodded, watching as he walked past them, carrying her up the stairs to their bedroom.

***

The dull throb in her head told her the migraine was something she was going to need some aspirin, water, and a heavy blanket to block out the light to fix. She groaned lightly as she burrowed her face in her pillow, then she opened her eyes and looked around the room.

Immediately, she took in the sight of the four of her boys curled up like cats in the bed with her. A smile graced her lips and she reached down beside her hip, running a hand over Tim's head; he shifted in his sleep, burying his face in her side and she struggled to bite back the laugh that wanted to come out. She reached over again and ran her hands through Dick and Jason's hair, watching them do the same.

She smiled at them, then a voice sounded from beside her. "Are you awake, Umi?" (Y/N) looked to her side, seeing Damian curled up beside her. Bruce's broad shoulders made him look so tiny from where he was laying and she nodded, raising a hand and caressing his head.

"I'm awake, sweetheart." He nodded, then moved under her arm, resting his head on her shoulder. Her arm settled comfortably around him, and she brought up her hand, gently running her fingers through his short hair.

After a few moments he whispered, "...I'm sorry, Umi."

Her response was to press her lips to his forehead, and murmur, "I know, baby."

He swallowed thickly, feeling the beginnings of tears gathering in his eyes. "I didn't mean to say it."

She nodded; her lips still pressed to his forehead. "I know you didn't, sweetheart. It was something said in anger."

He moved to sit up, looking up at her as he whispered harshly, "But I have hurt you! I made you cry! I...did this." He dropped his gaze, closing his eyes, and (Y/N) watched the tears begin to fall down his cheeks. He looked back up at her a few seconds later and said, "You are my mother, Umi...you are the only mother I've known."

(Y/N) shifted, careful not to wake her sons, then she cupped Damian's cheeks in her hands. "Baby...it's okay...I'm not angry at you."

He shook his head in her grip. "But you're sad because I said you weren't my mother."

(Y/N) brushed her thumbs under his eyes, wiping away the tears. "We all say things that we don't mean." He looked up at her and she searched his eyes. "What matters is that when they are said, we try our best to fix what we've done wrong."

Damian nodded his head and whispered, "I'm sorry, Umi."

A sad smile crossed her lips and she leaned forward, kissing his forehead. "I am too, baby." She pulled away and brushed his cheeks again. "I still love you though...with all my heart."

"You do? Even after what I said?"

(Y/N) nodded, pulling him to her; he rested his head under her chin, and she wrapped her arms around him as she murmured, "The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness." She brought up a hand, caressing the side of his head as she whispered, "Each of you has told me as some point that I am not what I am. But I know deep down that none of you meant it. And each time I heard it, it hurt...but forgiveness is a good thing when used."

"To err is human...to forgive...divine."

She smiled at his quote and squeezed him gently. "I love you, Damian...my beautiful baby boy."

The feeling of tears gathered in his eyes, but he blinked them away, his hand clenching in her shirt as he replied, "I love you too, Umi."

There was a moment of silence between them until, "How come the demon-spawn gets all the love? We were here first."

Damian raised his head, glaring at Tim. "I am Umi's favorite, Drake."

"The hell you are, Tater-tot. If anyone's the favorite, it's me."

"I think you're wrong, Little-wing. Iwas the first. I'm the favorite."

"No one asked you, dickhead."

"Mom! Jason called me a mean name!"

"Stop mocking me!"

"Mom!"

(Y/N) rolled her eyes at her two oldest as they began to shove at each other, and eventually, Tim and Damian got into the mess, and she watched their fists and feet fly at each other.

A grunt sounded from beside her and she looked down to see her husband glaring at her. "You just had to get them going this early, didn't you, Mrs. Wayne?"

(Y/N) let out a 'pfft' and leaned down, pressing her lips to his before laying her head on his arm, their foreheads touching. "Yeah...but I know that when they're fighting like this, they're giving each other love."

"Tough love."

She snorted and tickled his side, feeling him jerk away. "But love nonetheless."

He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of someone grunting cut him off. "Mom! Jason won't let me out of this headlock!"

"Mom! Jason won't let me-"

"STOP MOCKING ME, JASON!"

"You're unbearable, Drake! I am Umi's favorite!"

"Keep telling yourself that, oompa-loompa."

"I am not an oompa-loompa!"

(Y/N) sighed and looked at her husband. "Never a dull morning, is it Mr. Wayne?"

He grinned at her but grunted when one of them hit his side. "No, it's not Mrs. Wayne. No, it is not."

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viastro · 3 years

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pacman | yoon jeonghan

ミ★ synopsis: being best friends, you and jeonghan know all there is to the disastrous effects of developing feelings for each other. that’s why you both make a sleep-deprived promise at 5 am to never fall in love with the other. however, jeonghan begins to question everything when he tasks himself with making you and the new transfer become a couple.

ミ★ genre: best friends / to strangers / to lovers!au, angst, fluff, some humor

ミ★ warnings: none !

ミ★ word count: 7,559

ミ★ pairings: jeonghan x gender neutral reader / jun x gender neutral reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! here’s my jeonghan oneshot that was inspired by jaehyun’s upcoming kdrama ! it took me a few days to finish this, so it’s pretty long and i would like to apologize in advance AJSKBGKB i also recommend listening to stay here by gaho on repeat for like top tier reading experience HAHAHA i hope you guys enjoy this oneshot, and remember to give jeonghan lots of love <3

Your eyes are closed as your head rests on the table, waiting for the lecture to begin. Your airpods are in your ears, playing a soft instrumental that has you on the verge of drifting off to sleep.

Until Jeonghan sits beside you.

“I thought you slept early last night?” Instead of hearing the piano, you hear your best friend’s voice fill your ears as you open up one eye. The newly dyed redhead is staring at you with an amused expression on his face, causing you to squint at him.

“Yeah, 2 am this time. Personal best for the year so far.” You tell Jeonghan, sitting up from the desk and stretching your arms over your head. Jeonghan rolls his eyes, knowing that is a lot earlier than the usual 6 am bedtime routine you’ve got going on. He sits down in the seat beside you, pulling out his things from his bag.

Yoon Jeonghan, your best friend of almost eight years now. The two of you met in middle school, having been paired up in science class to dissect a frog. Jeonghan was close to tears the whole time while you were practically gagging over the smell through your mask.

Someway, somehow, the two of you ended up sticking together after that unfortunate occurrence. No words were exchanged either, you both kind of just started sitting beside each other during lunch and waiting for each other at your assigned lockers.

In high school it got annoying, as Jeonghan suddenly started to become... pretty. He grew taller, cut his hair short, and had a smirk that made anyone and anything swoon. Well, everyone except you. It got worse when you both entered university, as Jeonghan is continuing to become prettier by the minute.

You can’t count on your hand how many times someone was jealous of how close the two of you were.

However, the two of you made a vow after watching one too many kdramas with the trope of best friends to strangers due to one of them falling in love. It might be a bit drastic, and it was in the wee hours of the morning when the two of you made this oath so who knows if Jeonghan remembers. You don’t even remember most of what you both agreed upon other than the fact that the two of you can’t fall in love.

“Hannie, our friendship is too precious to end like theirs did!” You say through your tears, with Jeonghan pulling out a bunch of tissues to throw at your face. He nods his head in agreement, running a hand through his black hair as he fights back his own tears, only to pause and turn towards you.

“You think I’d like you?” Jeonghan asks with a look of disgust on his face, making you halt your movements, looking at him with a glare. “Hey!”

“I’m teasing you.” Jeonghan says with a laugh, taking one of the tissues he threw at your face and wiping the snot that’s slipped past your nose from crying. You quietly let him, too tired and sad to tell him how gross that is.

“We gotta stop binging kdramas until 5 in the morning.” Your best friend tells you, and you nod your head silently as you stare into his pretty eyes. He lets out a yawn once he’s done wiping away your tears, turning off your TV and placing the remote on the table.

“Come on, lay down, yn.” You don’t move from your position on the couch, still huddled into the corner as you think of what could happen if one of you ever developed feelings for each other.

A small smile forms on Jeonghan’s face at how deep in thought you are, reaching out and patting the top of your head. You look up at Jeonghan, and he tilts his head at you.

“What’s up? I’m trying to tuck you in and you’re staring off as if you’re going through an existential crisis.” You purse your lips at his observation, wondering if you are having an existential crisis. Jeonghan sits back down beside you, and he rests his head on his hand as he turns his body towards you.

“Let’s make a vow.” You say after a moment of silence passes between the two of you. Jeonghan raises an eyebrow, “What kind of vow?”

You turn your body towards his, fixing the blankets on your lap before finally looking into his eyes again. You find Jeonghan’s eyes to be his prettiest feature, as you can always see what he’s feeling through his gaze. It’s how you’re able to tell when he’s lying.

“A vow for us to never fall in love with each other.” You state, and you watch as mirth pools Jeonghan’s eyes while his lips curve up into an amused smile. “I don’t think we can make a vow on something that’s out of our control.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, and Jeonghan watches as your eyes brighten when another idea comes to mind. He’s a bit taken aback when you suddenly reach out and grasp his hand, holding it tightly between your warm ones.

“Then we make a promise.”

“That’s the same thing as a vow-”

“No, shut up. Let me explain.” You say, and Jeonghan chuckles. He motions with his hand for you to go on, and you let out a breath.

“If one of us catches feelings, then we end our friendship.” Jeonghan stares at you with a serious expression on his face, and you find that you’re afraid at how fast the amusement left his eyes. Jeonghan leans in closer towards you, “You’d want to end our friendship just like that?”

“Nono! I mean like, for a certain amount of time. Essentially we’d just ghost each other until our feelings go away, and the other can’t intervene.” You explain, slightly shoving Jeonghan away, but you see that he still looks a bit put off by your idea.

“I’d feel like ass if you just left without a word, though.” Jeonghan tells you, and you slowly nod your head, understanding where he’s coming from. You let out another sigh, looking up at the ceiling.

“Pacman.” You peek at Jeonghan, wondering why he mentioned your guys’ favorite game when you were children. He gives you a tired smile, “It’ll be our code word. Instead of leaving without a trace for a couple months, or confessing our feelings and then leaving, we can just say Pacman. It’s not directly saying I love you, and who knows if either of us will remember the word. It’s the perfect thing to say before disappearing for a bit.”

You slowly nod your head, finding that it seems like the best option thus far. And so, out of your 5 am fatigue, you hold out your pinky towards your best friend.

“Pinky promise that you won’t fall in love with me.” You mutter sleepily, and Jeonghan chuckles, reaching out and intertwining his pinky with yours.

“I pinky promise that I won’t fall in love with you.” Jeonghan responds softly, pressing his thumb against yours, sealing the promise.

And now here you both are, still going strong after that sleep-deprived promise you made when you two were barely 16 years old.

You let out a yawn, covering your mouth with your hand while Jeonghan scrolls through his phone to try and show you the meme he saw earlier. Only for you to pause your movements when someone enters the auditorium.

“Look, I found it.” Jeonghan says happily, about to hold out his phone towards you, only to pause, seeing that you’re distracted. He turns his head in the direction of your awed state, only to find a handsome guy standing at the doorway, looking for a seat.

Jeonghan slowly turns back towards you, finding you still staring at the man. He’s never seen this expression on your face before when you looked at someone else, but he knows this look. And so, he lets out a grin, before standing up from his seat and walking down the steps.

Your eyes widen when you suddenly see Jeonghan’s red hair flash before your eyes, and you internally scream when you watch him walk up and bow to the incredibly pretty man.

“Hi! I’m Yoon Jeonghan.” This seems to startle the guy, but his eyes almost immediately turn up into an eye smile as he bows back in Jeonghan’s direction.

“Hi, I’m Wen Junhui.” Jeonghan grins back, before motioning over towards where you and him are seated.

“Oh God.” You mutter to yourself when the pretty man looks up at you, causing you to look down at your phone and check to see if you look at least half decent. You internally scream when you look back up to see him and Jeonghan walking up the steps, and you would’ve flipped Jeonghan off if it weren’t for the pretty guy looking at you.

“Yn! This is Wen Junhui, he’s a transfer.” Jun smiles at you, and you find yourself smiling back at him, warmth flooding your chest at the precious sight. “Hi yn, you can call me Jun.”

You nod your head, “Hi Jun, let Jeonghan and I know if you ever need any help!”

He sits down in the seat besides Jeonghan and bends down to take out the things from his bag, giving you enough time to quickly smack the back of Jeonghan’s neck. He squeaks, turning and shooting you a glare, only to stop and give Jun a reassuring smile when the pretty transfer looks at him in concern.

“Are you okay?”

Jeonghan nods his head, giving Jun a thumbs up. He glances towards you once more when Jun goes back to preparing his seat, only to find the slight sparkle to your eye as you stare at the transfer student. Jeonghan slowly looks away, knowing exactly what that sparkle will signify in the future.

Jeonghan walks towards the square with both airpods in, hands holding heat packs in the pockets of his coat to keep warm. He notices you sitting on the bench, bundled up in your large jacket as you wait for him, causing a small smile to form on Jeonghan’s face.

He’s about to call out your name, only to halt his movements when he sees Junhui heading the opposite way. Jeonghan looks between the two of you, knowing that you have a raging crush on the pretty man but won’t initiate anything, and that Junhui might possibly be interested in you as well.

It’s been a month since Jun transferred to Seoul National University, and Jeonghan’s slowly been trying to push the two of you together. However, he does it so that it’s not too obvious for the sake of him not getting yelled at by you.

When you yell, you yell for a long time.

And so, being the kind friend that Jeonghan is, he quickly walks unnoticed past you, and places both hands on Jun’s shoulders without a noise of greeting. This promptly startles the transfer student, considering the brief look of fear on Jun’s face, only for it to morph into a smile when he looks into Jeonghan’s eyes.

“Jeonghan!”

“Jun! Are you done with your lectures today?” Jun nods his head in response, and Jeonghan grins at his answer. He turns and points towards you, making Jun peek over his shoulder to see you practically shaped like an onigiri, with your shoulders to your chest and your large winter jacket wrapped around you. “Yn and I were just about to go and get lunch, wanna join?”

Jeonghan notices Jun’s eyes become a bit brighter when he looks at you, before he turns back to look at him and runs a hand through his hair. “That sounds great! I’m starving.”

Jeonghan nods his head, before turning towards you and calling out your name. You glance up at the sound of Jeonghan’s voice, looking over to find him and Jun standing a few feet away from you with small smiles on their faces. You shoot your best friend a look, and his smile simply grows wider as you stand up from the bench and walk over to the two.

“Jun! Are you joining us for lunch today?” You ask when you make it over to them, secretly slapping Jeonghan’s side for being a goddamn whore. Jun smiles and nods his head while Jeonghan inconspicuously rubs his waist to ease the sting from your smack.

“Where do you guys wanna eat?” Jun asks as the three of you begin walking out of the square. You think to yourself for a moment while Jeonghan stays quiet, letting you decide on where the gang will have lunch. You let out a grin when you finally think of where to eat, glancing at the two before saying, “Thai food!”

Jeonghan and Jun nod their heads in agreement, and you celebrate quietly between the two. You squeeze the heat packs in your pockets when Jun turns and looks at you, causing you to look back at him.

“What do you usually order at Thai restaurants?” You purse your lips at Jun’s question, fighting back the warmth from rushing to your face at the way he’s staring at you with so much interest. “It depends on my mood, to be honest.”

“Wanna order for me when we get there then? I’m not sure what to eat.”

“Horrible idea. What if I choose something you don’t like?”

“Then I’ll keep eating it, yn.”

“Jun!”

Jeonghan watches as you and Jun unconsciously walk faster until the two of you are now ahead of him. You are in your own little world as you bicker, but Jeonghan knows there’s no malice in your guys’ argument with the way you’re both smiling brightly at each other.

You pause when you don’t feel that familiar presence beside you, and you turn your head to find Jeonghan standing a bit far behind you and Jun. You squint at your best friend, before pulling your hand out of your pocket and waving him over.

“Hannie! What are you waiting for? Come here!”

Jeonghan tightly squeezes the heat pack in his pockets, before nodding his head and walking a bit faster to catch up to you guys. It’s only when he’s standing right beside you that the three of you begin heading towards the Thai restaurant again.

As the frigid temperatures hit him, Jeonghan’s left wondering why the heat packs no longer offer him any warmth as he watches you laugh with Jun.

Jeonghan sits beside you on your couch, invested in the new episode of the kdrama the two of you have been keeping up with. He turns his head when your phone lights up, and his eyes land on the contact name.

jun <3

“You got a text from Junnie.” Jeonghan says, taking a piece of popcorn and placing it into his mouth. You look away from the TV, picking up your phone and reading the message. Out of the corner of his eye, Jeonghan watches the dopey smile form on your face as your thumbs type out a text to your crush.

Suddenly the popcorn feels a bit too dry to swallow as Jeonghan reaches over to take a sip of water. It only goes down smoothly when you place your phone back down on the couch and adjust the blankets over you and Jeonghan.

“I love when the main actress stands up for herself.” You mutter, taking a few pieces of popcorn and tossing them into your mouth. Jeonghan nods his head in agreement, watching as the female lead starts cursing back at the man.

“There’s just something so satisfying about women proving that they don’t need a man to protect them. They need to show this more in kdramas, break the stereotype, ya know?” Jeonghan adds, and you smile softly, pride swelling in your heart at the simple sentence. He turns his head and catches sight of your soft smile, and he feels the undeniable feeling of warmth from the beauty of it.

A sudden bright light makes him glance down at the blankets, finding that your phone has lit up again. You notice as well, picking up the cool metal and reading the new text from Jun. Jeonghan watches as your mouth drops open and how you immediately stand up from the couch.

“Did something happen?” Jeonghan asks, only for your phone to be shoved directly into his face. The redhead curses quietly, muttering about how you need to update your phone to be able to turn on dark mode, before reading the message on the screen.

“He asked me on a date! Me! Wait, is it a date? What should I say?! What if he didn’t mean to send me that text?? Oh my God, I’m so nervous I could actually pee my pants.” You ramble, and Jeonghan’s eyes slowly trail up to your face, watching as you mumble to yourself and begin to pace around the small living room. He bites the inside of his cheek, before grabbing your phone out of your hands and typing out a message. Your eyes widen when you watch your best friend’s thumbs move swiftly across your screen.

“Wait, Yoon Jeonghan!”

“There.” Jeonghan states, handing you back your phone. You stare at the screen in silence.

jun <3: i was wondering if you wanted to go to the aquarium together on saturday? I remembered when you told me how you’ve never been, and the aquarium is having a christmas special even tho it’s november :3

It’s totally fine if you don’t wanna go by the way

you: that sounds great ! i can’t wait <3

jun <3: yay! I’ll pick you up at around 4 on saturday ~

Jeonghan watches as your eyes slowly trail up towards his face, and he wonders whether you’re gonna choke him or scream at him. Or both.

Jeonghan thinks it’s both.

It comes to his surprise when you instead wrap your arms around his frame, squeezing him tightly. Jeonghan slowly reciprocates the hug, cradling your head in his hand like he always does.

“Thank you, Hannie.” You mumble, and Jeonghan bites the inside of his cheek at the softness to your voice. He lets out a smile, nodding his head, “Of course, yn. Anything for you.”

“Did you know that you smell good?” Jeonghan raises an eyebrow at the random question, and the rumble of his chest from laughter makes you giggle in response, squeezing him tighter.

“Really? What do I smell like?”

You purse your lips in thought, before letting out a deep sigh. You close your eyes as you quietly say, “You smell delicate, it reminds me of Spring.”

Jeonghan’s heart thumps against his chest as he pats your head, “How can I smell like a season?”

“I don’t know. You just do.”

You pull away from the hug to flash Jeonghan a bright smile, and you watch as his features brighten at the sight. You rub the back of your neck, about to sit back down to finish the drama, only to pause when you realize something.

“Jeonghan!”

“Yn!”

“I have to choose an outfit for Saturday! Oh my GOD!” You sprint out of the living room and to your bedroom, while Jeonghan remains in the living room. He listens to the sound of your screeches, and the chaotic noises of clothes being pulled out of your closet.

“Hannie, come help! I’m not that stylish!”

Jeonghan bites his bottom lip, turning to look at the long forgotten drama. He lets out a sigh, bending down and picking up the remote, turning off the TV. The screen turns black, leaving him to stare at his reflection in the monitor.

It’s as if Jeonghan is having a staring contest with himself as he stares at the TV monitor, thinking of the answer to a question that he’s not willing to ever admit. He only looks away when he hears the call of his name, pursing his lips at the thoughts he was thinking.

Jeonghan pushes everything in his brain away, letting out a small smile when you walk out of your room with your head stuck in a hanger. You scratch the top of your head, confused as to how you even managed to fit your head through the small space.

“Please help.” You say, and Jeonghan chuckles, nodding his head and walking over towards your room.

“Should I ask how you even managed to get your head through the hanger?”

“No.”

“Good, because I didn’t plan out how I’d react if you told me about it.”

Jeonghan runs a hand through his hair as he looks out the window of his apartment, seeing the grand view of the city of Seoul at night. He tilts his head at the sight of a few fireworks shooting up into the sky, even though there’s about ten minutes left until it’s the new year.

“Hannie! My parents want to see your red hair.” He turns his head at the call of his name, finding you sitting at his kitchen table on FaceTime with your family. He grins and walks over to you, resting his hand on the back of your chair as he puts himself in the frame.

“Hi auntie and uncle! Happy New Year!” Jeonghan greets with a smile, and the two of you let out a laugh at your mom’s reaction to his bright hair color. He runs a hand through his hair, sending your mom a thumbs up in the camera. “Do you like my hair?

“I’m honestly just surprised that you pull it off so well.” Your mom responds, and you chuckle. Your dad nods in agreement, giving Jeonghan a thumbs up with a proud smile on his face. Grinning, you reach out and ruffle Jeonghan’s hair.

“Of course Hannie can pull it off! He’s one of the prettiest guys ever, I wouldn’t be surprised if he were able to rock green hair.” Your mom and dad laugh, while Jeonghan just stares at you for a moment, feeling slightly empty when you pull your hand away. Your mom lets out a mischievous smile, and you raise an eyebrow at it. “What are you planning, mom?”

“Since you think Jeonghan is so pretty, why aren’t you dating him yet?” Warmth immediately floods your face, and you let out a whine, causing your mom and dad to holler over in laughter. You turn to Jeonghan to apologize, and he just gives you a small smile, nodding his head in understanding. When you glance back at your phone to scold your parents, Jeonghan’s smile turns bitter, and he looks away from your screen to hide it.

You and Jun have been dating for a month now.

“I’ll talk to you guys later! Jeonghan and I have to take our annual New Year’s photo.” You say, waving at your parents with a bright smile on your face.

“Bye Jeonghan!” Jeonghan glances back over at your phone, finding your parents waving at him with happy expressions on their faces. He forces out a smile, waving back at them with the same energy they’re giving him. “Yn and I will try to visit soon!”

“Yeah you better!” You let out a laugh at your dad’s comment, waving at them one last time before ending the call. You lean back into the chair, closing your eyes to try and muster up some energy.

“Your parents’ love suck all the life out of you?” Jeonghan asks with an amused expression on his face, and you wave him away with your hand, eyes still closed as you do so. He chuckles, reaching out and pinching your cheek before walking back over to the couch.

“Are we gonna take a picture or what?” You open your eyes to see Jeonghan already preparing the polaroid camera, and you stand up and walk over to him. You rest your chin on his shoulder, making Jeonghan stiffen slightly, and he hopes you didn’t notice. However, you’re observant.

“Why’d you freeze? Oh! Is your shoulder bothering you again?” You ask in concern, immediately stepping back and assessing Jeonghan’s shoulder. He watches as you begin to ramble about how he should go to the doctor about his shoulder pain as you poke and prod at him. Biting the inside of his cheek, he moves his shoulder out of your reach, “It’s fine, I just slept wrong last night.” He lies through his teeth, and you stare into Jeonghan’s eyes as your hands slowly fall to your sides.

His deep brown eyes bore into yours, seeing a reflection of his own as he does so. After a moment of searching, you look away with a sigh.

Jeonghan’s eyes are your favorite feature of his, as his true emotions always show through them. They’re his most honest feature, you’d say.

so why can’t I tell if he’s lying right now?

You shake your head, before looking back at Jeonghan with a smile. You nod your head, reaching out and softly patting his shoulder as a means to not accidentally hurt him. “Let’s take the photo, I need a post for Instagram.”

Jeonghan scoffs, holding up the polaroid camera, “You only want to take photos with me so that you get more likes on Instagram.”

You smile, peace sign up towards your eye as you nod your head, “Of course. If I have a pretty boy beside me in my photos, then everyone will like them!”

Jeonghan smiles, winking into the polaroid camera as the flash goes off. The film photo immediately pops out, and you take the small photo and wave it around. Jeonghan purses his lips, before holding up the camera again.

“Let’s take one more.” He says, and you raise an eyebrow, surprised that he wants to take another photo with you. You place the polaroid down onto the coffee table before posing without question, as you’re afraid he will immediately take back the request.

“1, 2, 3-” Your hand makes your way to Jeonghan’s face, squishing his cheeks when the flash goes off. Jeonghan turns to face you, finding you giggling happily as you take the developing polaroid, flapping it around a bit before placing it onto the coffee table.

“I wanted to look handsome in that one.” Jeonghan whines, and you roll your eyes.

“You’re always handsome, be quiet.” You respond, and Jeonghan opens his mouth to argue, only to stop when you glance at the time.

“15 SECONDS!” You screech, grabbing the noise maker and confetti, handing one to Jeonghan in the process. You jump up and down as the two of you begin to count down.

“10!”

“9!”

“8!”

“7!” Jeonghan glances at you, feeling as if time is starting to slow down as you excitedly dance while counting down.

“6!”

“5!”

“4!” You laugh happily, doing a small dance as you prepare the confetti in your hand.

“3!”

“2!” Jeonghan feels his heart sink in his chest when you turn to face him with a bright smile, seeing all the stars in your eyes as you stare at him.

“1!”

“Happy New Year, Hannie!” You squeal, throwing the confetti up as high as you can into the air. Jeonghan swallows, noticing how dry his throat has become as he takes in the sight before him. Time comes to a slow as the fireworks explode in the air behind you through the window, while the confetti sparkles fall around the two of you. All the background noise drowns out, all of his senses honing in on you and you only. You look nothing short of ethereal in this moment.

The realization of what he’s been denying for the last three months comes to the surface as he stares at you, and he wishes for nothing more than for it to not be true. That it’s just a fluke.

However, when you turn back towards him and wrap your arms around his frame, greeting him Happy New Year once more, Jeonghan knows it’s the truth.

“Happy New Year, Yoon Jeonghan.” You say softly with a grin, and Jeonghan slowly wraps his arms around you, biting the inside of his cheek as he closes his eyes.

“Happy New Year, yn yln.” Jeonghan mutters, and you pull away to pull out your phone from your pocket. You wave it around Jeonghan’s face with a mischievous smile, “I’m gonna go greet Jun a happy new year, I’ll be back in a sec.”

Jeonghan squeezes his fist at his side, nodding his head as he gives you a smile. “Tell the handsome man I said Happy New Year.”

You give the redhead a thumbs up, before dialing Jun’s number and heading towards the bathroom. Once the door closes behind you, Jeonghan reaches up and clutches his chest, biting his bottom lip harshly as he looks down at the floor. He notices the now developed polaroids, and lifts up the one where you're squishing his face.

You’re staring at Jeonghan with stars in your eyes as you smile widely, hand squishing his cheeks. Jeonghan purses his lips, before pulling out his wallet from the back of his jeans, placing the polaroid into the slot before his driver’s license.

The photo reflects back at him underneath the light from the fireworks behind him, and Jeonghan lets out a breath. Running a hand through his hair, he closes his wallet and places it back into his pocket. Just in time too, as he looks up when he hears your bathroom door open, noticing the happy smile on your face.

“Ready to make midnight snacks to celebrate the new year?” You ask with a wink, and Jeonghan throws on his best fake smile, nodding his head.

“Of course I do, don’t ask me no stupid fucking questions.” Jeonghan teases, and you let out a laugh at the sentence, sending the redhead’s heart into a frenzy.

“Let’s go make food then.” You say, turning and heading towards the kitchen. Jeonghan slowly walks after you, a sad smile on his face as he watches you dance as you walk.

Just one more day. Jeonghan thinks to himself, before speeding up his pace and wrapping his arm around you. You turn to look at your best friend, and he smiles at you.

“Let’s make rice krispy treats.” Jeonghan suggests, only to let out a laugh at how your face brightens just at the mention of the delicious dessert, and you nod your head excitedly. You lead him to his own pantry, and begin explaining who’s gonna do what as you take out all the ingredients. All while Jeonghan watches fondly, knowing that he needs to ingrain this moment in his brain.

Just one more day with yn.

Jeonghan shuffles in front of your door, dreading what’s going to happen as soon as he knocks on the surface. He lets out a sigh, resting his head on the wall for a moment, questioning everything.

What if I just pretended?

I could just walk in and we could hangout like we usually do, like nothing has changed at all.

No.

Jeonghan lifts up his head, raising his fist and knocking on your door without a second thought. He bites the inside of his cheek when he hears you say, “Coming!”

Your front door opens after a moment, and his eyes trail over your outfit. An oversized vest over a white dress shirt paired with straight leg pants and sneakers to match. Jeonghan’s eyes slowly go back towards your face, just to find you staring at him with surprise painted over your features.

“Hannie! I wasn’t expecting you, what’s up?” You ask, and Jeonghan stays quiet for a moment. He gestures to you, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Are you going somewhere?” Jeonghan asks, and you nod your head. Letting out a smile, you show off your outfit and do a timid spin for emphasis on the oversized vest. “I have a date with Jun today, you like the fit?”

Jeonghan doesn’t respond, instead squeezing his fist in his pocket. He looks down the hallway, making you look in the same direction as well. You find Jun walking towards your apartment, and you let out a smile.

“Speak of the Devil. Did you need something from my apartment? You can just lock up when you’re done.” You tell Jeonghan as you turn back towards him, and you find the rest of the words die in your throat at the sadness in his eyes. You reach out to grasp his arm, and he takes a step back.

“Hannie, what’s wrong-”

“Jun is lucky to have you.” Jeonghan cuts you off, and you stare at him as he struggles to utter the next word. He turns back to look at Jun, seeing that he’s almost to your door, having not noticed Jeonghan yet.

“Jeonghan?” You ask, and you watch as the pretty man turns back to look at you.

“Pacman.” Jeonghan breathes out, and you feel your heart stop, unsure of why.

He turns around and walks away without another word, and your eyebrows furrow in confusion. You step out to ask him what he means, only for Jeonghan to stop and turn around himself. He gives you a bittersweet smile, waving his hand at you.

“You look beautiful, yn. Have fun on your date.” And with that, Jeonghan turns around and walks away, sucking in a deep breath to try and hold back the tears that threaten to escape. Leaving you alone by your doorway, confused.

“Was that Jeonghan?” You turn your head at the sound of Jun’s voice, and he gives you a soft smile. You nod your head slowly, turning to look back in the direction that he left in. “Yeah, he seems sad though.”

“Wanna go and check on him?” Jun asks, and you bite the inside of your cheek, remembering the tickets Jun bought in advance for the two of you to go to this garden. Regretfully, you shake your head and give Jun a warm smile. “It’s okay, I’ll check on him after our date.”

You quickly grab your phone and bag, locking the door to your apartment and turning to Jun with a grin. He extends his hand towards you, and you intertwine your fingers with his. The two of you walk towards the elevators, but you’re left in confusion as to what Jeonghan meant, and why he was so sad.

Hours turned into days, days turned into weeks, and months eventually turned into a year.

You and Jeonghan haven’t spoken since the day he stopped by your apartment and said that cursed word.

You tried to reach out once you realized what he meant, even stopping by his apartment multiple times to just get him to say something, anything. You were quite literally talking to a door, as there was never a response. There were times that you fell asleep in front of his apartment on the floor, and would wake up in Jun’s arms as he carried you back to your own place.

Many tears were shed, hearts were broken on both sides as you lost not only Jeonghan, but Jun as the two of you broke up four months after Jeonghan left.

“I’ll always love you, but I know that your heart belongs to someone else.” Jun tells you softly, and you bite the inside of your cheek. He gives you a small smile, grasping your face, making you look down at the floor as he presses one last kiss to your forehead.

Jun pulls away, and pats the top of your head. “Don’t be a stranger, yn. I love you.”

You wanted nothing more than for Jeonghan to be there with you at that moment, to help you take the baby steps in healing, but you couldn’t get through to him no matter how much you tried.

It was what you two promised to do, anyways.

He even managed to avoid you on campus successfully, you couldn’t be surprised though. The university is huge, you wouldn’t have been able to find him if you tried, which you did. He stopped frequenting all the places the two of you used to go to, it was as if he disappeared.

And the hole in your heart grew and grew the longer Jeonghan was gone.

Now here you are, a year later, sitting on a park bench as you let the music flow through your airpods. The weather is nice, a contrast to the rain that’s been pelting the city of Seoul for the last few days. The sky is blue, and there’s a slight wind to cool you down from the warmth of the sun. You tilt your head back, letting out a sigh as you remember the pile of assignments sitting on your desk back at home.

And so, placing your hands into the pockets of your hoodie, you get up off the bench and begin to walk down the path in the direction of your apartment. Your eyes stay on the ground the whole time, just trying to focus on the soothing piano as you ignore the other people walking by you.

You only look up when you get to the crosswalk, seeing a crowd of people across the street from you. Your eyes trail along the numerous faces you see, and you’re about to look back down when you lock eyes with a familiar pair.

“Jeonghan.” You breathe out as he stares at you with the same amount of shock written across his face. His red hair is now dyed black, emphasizing his sharp features. His eyes still hold all the warmth that you remember as he stares directly back at you, making the pain in your chest more evident at how much you miss him. You bite the inside of your cheek harshly at how much prettier he’s become, wondering how he’s capable of doing so as time passes.

The crosswalk signal turns green, but you remain where you are for a moment, as does Jeonghan. The reminder of the promise the two of you made flooding through your mind.

“Pacman.” You peek at Jeonghan, wondering why he mentioned your guys’ favorite game. He gives you a tired smile, “It’ll be our code word. Instead of leaving without a trace for a couple months, or confessing our feelings and then leaving, we can just say Pacman. It’s not directly saying I love you, and who knows if either of us will remember the word. It’s the perfect thing to say before disappearing for a bit.”

Jeonghan begins to cross the street first, and you look down at the road as you step off the sidewalk, melting in with the crowd as you walk in Jeonghan’s direction. Your heart is breaking within your chest as you do so, knowing that you have to keep the promise you made with Jeonghan.

The two of you pinky swore, after all.

Tightly, you squeeze your fists at your side as the piano instrumental reaches its climax in your ears. Numerous questions flood your brain as you reach the middle of the street.

Is this it?

Are we never going to be best friends again?

Has he already passed me?

Does…

Does he still love me?

All thoughts rush out your brain when a hand grabs your wrist unexpectedly, the sudden jerk of your arm making your earbud fall out of your ear and onto the road, the soft key sounds of the piano disappearing with the wind. You open your mouth to protest, but the words die in your throat when you’re pulled into a tight embrace. It’s only when the familiar scent of Spring fills your senses, that you immediately wrap your arms around Jeonghan’s frame, tears filling your eyes from the overwhelming feeling of relief.

“Hi, yn.” Jeonghan mutters into your ear, tears falling from his own eyes as he holds you tightly, never wanting to let you go. You let out a sob at the sound of his voice, closing your eyes as you clutch onto him just as tight, scared that he’ll disappear without a trace again if you let go.

And so, through your tears, you whisper, “Hi, Jeonghan.”

“Yn! It’s only a few more minutes until midnight!”

“Coming!” You shout back, checking over your reflection once more. You step out of the restroom once you’re sure that you look decent, and walk over to your living room. You let out a smile once you lay eyes on Jeonghan laying upside down on your couch, scrolling through his phone.

“What are you doing, Hannie?” You ask, and the black haired beauty peeks at you past his phone, flashing you a smile.

“It’s more comfortable this way, wanna try?” You roll your eyes, flicking his forehead as you grab the polaroid camera. He lets out a whine, fixing his position so that he’s now sitting properly and not upside down.

“Why’d you flick me?”

“Cause you’re cheeky.” You answer, preparing the polaroid film to take the annual New Year’s Eve photo. Jeonghan grins, quickly fixing his hair to make sure it looks presentable. “Do I look okay?”

You quickly turn towards him, taking in his features. His soft eyes gaze into yours as you stare at his pretty nose and high cheekbones. You reach out and pinch his cheek with a smile, “You look pretty, Hannie. You always do. Now let’s take this photo.”

Jeonghan smiles happily at your compliment, before taking the polaroid camera from you and holding it out as you have trouble doing so. You let out a bright smile at the camera, Jeonghan doing the same as he takes the photo. The flash goes off, and you’re quick to take the film out and wave it around.

“Another one.” You command as you take the polaroid camera out of Jeonghan’s hands, and he chuckles, nodding his head. You hold the camera out and send a wink towards the camera, Jeonghan doing the same pose.

“Okay. 1, 2, 3-” Jeonghan quickly changes his pose last minute, reaching out with his hand and squeezing your cheeks with a laugh. The flash goes off, and you let out a whine, turning back towards the pretty man to see him still giggling as he takes the polaroid out and waves it around.

“Are you happy now that you’ve gotten your revenge?” You ask, and he nods his head with a grin. “Very happy, actually.”

You’re about to respond, only to pause when you see that there’s only 30 seconds left until the clock strikes midnight. You practically screech, standing up from the couch to grab the noise makers. Jeonghan watches you with a fond smile on his face, getting up from the couch to snatch the confetti.

“You’re doing confetti this year?” You ask when you scramble back over, noise maker now in your grasp. Jeonghan chuckles, “Why do we always get confetti when it’s a pain to clean up afterwards?”

You purse your lips, refusing to answer the question as you begin to count down the seconds instead. Jeonghan rolls his eyes at your antics, starting to count down along with you.

“10!”

“9!”

“8!”

“7!” Jeonghan nudges you a bit, and you stumble over, making the latter laugh loudly as you squint at him.

“6!”

“5!”

“4!” You and Jeonghan turn towards each other, bright smiles on your faces as you continue to count down.

“3!”

“2!”

“1!”

“Happy New Year!” You both cheer, and Jeonghan throws the confetti up high into the air. You laugh excitedly as it falls around the two of you, feeling your heart warm when he turns to you and grasps your face with his hands.

Your eyes softly fall shut as Jeonghan leans in and captures your lips in a kiss to celebrate the new year. Your hands trail up and rest on his sides, gripping his shirt as a smile breaks out onto both of your faces. He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours, staring into your eyes.

“I love you, yn.” He whispers, and you feel your heart swell from joy.

“I love you too, Jeonghan.” Warmth fills Jeonghan from those three simple words that hold so much depth as the two of you begin to sway side to side to the soft music filling the background.

The polaroid that Jeonghan kept in his wallet for the last two years sits up on the frame behind the both of you as you slow dance, the bright colors of the fireworks exploding outside casting an iridescent glow over the two of you.

As you scoot closer and rest your head onto Jeonghan’s chest, and his hand softly cradles the back of your head, you realize that sometimes,

Promises are meant to be broken.

1K notes · View notes

cuddlepilefics · 3 years

Text

Snuggly puppy

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Seungmin

Caregiver: Felix

Sequel to ‘Not sleepy’

Noone’s POV.:

It had been almost a week since Seungmin had taken a sick Felix back to the dorm. The Aussie was finally feeling better, his voice was back to normal and his fever had broken the previous night. Over breakfast a small dispute arose because the dancer couldn’t wait to get back to work, while Chan would have preferred the younger resting for at least another day. Their loud voices soon quietened down when a disheveled looking Seungmin joined the group at the table. The members exchanged worried glances at the lack of a greeting from the vocalist and watched the boy listlessly push his food around the plate. It had been predictable really, given how cuddled up Hyunjin had found Seungmin and Felix the previous week. A hoarse cough confirmed their suspicion, the second youngest had caught Felix’ cold. “Hey, Minnie, you ok?”, Hyunjin whispered from his seat next to the vocalist. The younger just nodded, not feeling like talking with the straining ache that had settled in his throat. Chan nudged Felix and motioned for him to follow the leader to the kitchen. They took their empty plates and announced, they’d be doing the dishes today.

When they were out of earshot, the oldest spoke up: “Lix, would you do me the favor of taking care of Seungmin today? There’s no way he’ll go to practice today. We can’t afford to get another member sick and you’ve just gotten over the same thing, so it’s unlikely you’ll catch it again. Only if you feel up to it of course.” – “Hyung, I feel fine. And sure I will, it’s my fault he’s sick to begin with. I’ll be missing another day of practice though, and I really need to catch up with how many mistakes I made with my dancing last time”, the younger Aussie replied, a pained expression flashing across his face. “Ah, don’t worry, we’ll help you catch up. We can all take turns going over the choreography with you, we’re not gonna leave you behind”, Chan promised, “Just please watch Seungmin.” Felix smiled: “I already told you I will. I owe him anyways.” Just as their conversation had ended, the members came in one by one, carrying their plates for the Aussies to wash while they got ready for their schedule ahead. When Seungmin passed them, Chan stopped him with a hand on the younger’s arm. “Hey, I think it’ll be best if you stay home today, since it seems like you caught Felix’ cold”, the leader hummed, frowning at the dark circles adorning the vocalist’s eyes. Seungmin shook his head, avoiding his hyung’s eyes: “I feel fine, hyung, just a bit tired. There’s no need for me to stay back.” Felix who was overhearing the conversation from where he was standing over the sink, shook his head slightly. This was exactly how it had started for him too and if it wasn’t for the strained rasp in the sick boy’s voice, they might even have believed him.

Before Seungmin could react, Chan had spread his palm over his dongsaeng’s forehead: “I mean, you don’t have a fever, at least not yet but neither do look nor do you sound alright, so you’ll be taking the day off to rest.” – “Hyung-“, the younger whined, voice cracking. “Hey, maybe you’re really just tired and will be fine tomorrow. In that case you can tell me how much of an ass I am for making you stay back, but for now, you’re staying back”, when the oldest saw the fight building in the vocalist’s eyes, he added, “Leader’s orders.” – “This is abuse of power”, Seungmin fought back, “and completely unnecessary.” Though he immediately proved his statement wrong by turning away and muffling a cough into the sleeve of his sleep shirt. “Aish, Minnie. Stop fighting, last week you were the one lecturing me about how I shouldn’t push myself when I’m sick and now look at you”, Felix scolded, drying off his hands. The vocalist shot his youngest hyung a deathglare: “’Look at me’ ? It’s your fault that I’m in this situation anyways, so who are you to talk?” – “See, you just admitted it and yes I know and I’m sorry, that’s why I’ll stay back too and keep you company”, the dancer giggled, while his dongsaeng quickly covered his mouth noticing how he had just messed up. Chan pulled the sulking boy into a hug and tried to get him to look at him: “Min, it’s ok to be sick and if you rest now, instead of pushing on, you’re chances of recovering faster than Felix did are pretty high. You’re not as stupid as him, forcing yourself to hours of dancing, now are you?” – “Hey, I’m not stupid!!!”, the dancer yelled, smacking his hyung’s butt with the towel he was still holding. Seungmin giggled: “No, I’m not. I’ll stay back but only to prove to Felix-hyung that I’m the smarter one.” Felix put on a fake-offended act but if that was what made his dongsaeng rest, it was fine with him.

The group soon left, leaving Felix and Seungmin alone at the dorm. “Hey, what do you want to do now?”, Felix asked, “Do you want to sleep more?” – “I’m not a baby, I don’t need to sleep again immediately after getting up!” The dancer rolled his eyes, he should have expected how difficult of a task it would be to take care of Seungmin. The younger was way too stubborn and insistent on his independence. “Ok ok, no need to sass me. What about a movie?” The vocalist seemed to actually think about it: “Alright, but if you make me watch another of your boring dramas, I swear to god…” – “No, I’ll let you choose what we’ll watch, like the good hyung I am”, Felix retorted, throwing him a blanket as the pair got settled on the couch. True to his promise, the dancer let his dongsaeng choose a movie. He hadn’t seen it before, but the vocalist insisted it was really good. They were both focused on the screen in front of them, the only thing distracting Felix were the increasingly frequent sniffles coming from his dongsaeng. He glanced over at the younger, only to see him bring the blanket up to his face sneezing twice in quick succession. “Bless you”, Felix hummed, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie, when he noticed the younger’s eyes closing again. “Hh’ktCHhsx!”, Felix watched expectantly, “hh’txCHH’uh!” – “Bless you again”, he chuckled when it seemed like the younger was finally done. “Thanks *sniff*, I’ll just go get some tissues”, the vocalist mumbled. The older wanted to offer, getting them but one stern glance made him keep his mouth shut. He really didn’t want to fight with Seungmin right now.

When Seungmin returned, they continued their movie. By the time it ended, his eyes were watering from focusing on a screen and his head hurt worse than he wanted to admit. They considered watching another one when Felix had an idea: “Hey, how about we shower now? That way we won’t slow things down when the others get home and the steam might help you breathe better.” The dancer had noticed how miserably congested his friend sounded, which was the sole reason he wanted the younger to take a shower. “I cad breathe perfectly fide”, the younger rasped, his glare not nearly as intimidating as intended, due to the itchy tears dotting his lashes, “but yeah, shower sou’ds alright.” – “Sure, so why don’t you go first?”, Felix offered, pushing his dongsaeng in the general direction of the bathroom. ‘That little spawn of Satan, why does he have to make this so difficult?’, the dancer thought, making his way to the kitchen when he heard the bathroom door close. He decided to prepare some of Seungmin’s favorite tea, because he still remembered how irritated his throat had been not to long ago. The younger didn’t really seem to appreciate his hyung’s efforts to help but Felix knew that under this overly independent facade were mostly insecurities, so he would just continue to care for the younger despite his protests. He could hear the painful coughs over the sound of the water running and cringed in sympathy, sure he felt guilty. Seungmin had only cuddled him because Felix was in desperate need of cuddles when he was sick, ‘like a little child’, the dancer thought. Had he acted like the adult he physically is, his dongsaeng wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences now but now it was too late and all Felix could do was make the younger as comfortable as possible, while he rode out his sickness.

Locking the bathroom door behind him, Seungmin finally let his guard down. For aa minute, he just sat on the closed toilet lid, burying his aching head in his hands and rubbing his face. He gave a few wet sniffles before finding the strength to get up and strip out of the clothes he had slept in last night. Goosebumps spread over his body as the cold air touched his overly sensitive skin and he hurried to get into the shower, letting the warm water soothe his chills. The vocalist kept turning the water temperature higher and higher because he still felt cold. Soon the room was filled with thick clouds of steam and he took deep breaths in hopes it would loosen at least a fraction of the congestion clogging his airways. And it did, but the dislodged mucus just fell deeper in his lungs, choking him. The sick boy had to lean against the wet tiles of the shower to keep his balance has he prayed for the coughing fit to end. When he finally managed to catch his breath, the damage was already done, his throat felt really swollen and tender and his head was spinning from the lack of oxygen. With his last remaining energy, Seungmin rinsed off the soap and dragged his achy body out of the shower. He felt so much worse than before, weak and shaky, his muscles not willing to cooperate, but there was no way he’d ask Felix for help with this. After drying off, he put on some fresh clothes, a hoodie and sweatpants, hoping they’d keep him warm against the chills wracking his body, before dizzily stumbling back to the livingroom. Getting comfortable under the blanket on the couch, he told Felix to go and take his turn showering and not wanting to blow his cover as to why he forced his dongsaeng to shower, the dancer went to the bathroom.

While Felix was showering, Seungmin found the tea the older had left him on the coffee table. He was barely able to hold the cup with how much his hands were shaking and he had to use both hands to not spill the hot liquid, but the vocalist sighed in relieve when the few sips he managed to force down soothed his abused throat. Laying down, he pulled the thin blanket up to his chin and draped one arm over his eyes to block out the light. ‘How could I get so much worse so suddenly?’ He lay there not able to sleep due to the pounding in his skull, but also not able to move with how badly his muscles were burning. “Hey, did you feel homesick?”, Felix laughed as he walked into the living room with a towel around his neck, “because the water was hot as hell.” Seungmin just blinked at him confused, too out of it to get the pun. “You ok?”, the Aussie asked, sitting down next to his dongsaeng. The vocalist tried to be strong, he really did, but way too soon the tears he fought to hold back spilled from his eyes and he shook his head defeatedly. Felix’ face softened and he pulled the younger into his arms, alarmed at how much strength he had to use, because Seungmin didn’t seem helping by using his own muscles at all, though he did, he was just really weak. He allowed the vocalist to cry into his fresh shirt, while he ran a soothing hand through the younger’s hair, frowning to find it still dripping with water. Glad he still had a towel with him, Felix whispered sweet nothings, while gently rubbing the other’s hair dry. “We wouldn’t want you getting worse from running around with wet hair, would we?”, he hummed lowly, stroking the sobbing boy’s back. “Is already worse”, Seungmin managed to choke out before turning away to cough. The older used this opportunity of not having the younger’s face buried in his shirt to feel his forehead for a fever and sure enough, the vocalist was burning.

The dancer continued to gently rock his dongsaeng in his arms till the latter either calmed down or had exhausted himself, Felix wasn’t sure. “I guess the hot water raised your temperature, sorry you feel so bad”, he whispered, aware of the headache the younger was suffering, “I’ll go find you some medicine and then you can go to bed and hopefully sleep as much of this off as possible.” Seungmin nodded gratefully, though he really didn’t want to let go of his hyung. Feeling cold, he curled into himself tightly, shaking while he waited for the older to return. His nose was itching again and he brought a sweater paw up to his face: “H’iKTsh!’tsh! H-’khSHt’NGsT!”. He must have nodded off after the stuffy triple because the next thing he knew was the dancer rubbing both of his arms for warmth humming: “Hey puppy, do you think you could sit up for a second to swallow this? It should help with both, the fever and the pain.” The vocalist tried but weakly fell back, needing Felix to pull him upright against his chest. “Tha’gs hyu’g”, he mumbled, accepting the pills and washing them down with the lukewarm tea, the dancer steadying the cup to avoid spills. Swallowing was a struggle with how swollen his throat was but his hyung rubbed his chest through the entire following coughing fit.

Felix was getting worried at how weak his dongsaeng had gotten within less than an hour. First, he was sassing him not accepting any help at all and then suddenly he wasn’t even able to sit up by himself. Since it was obvious that Seungmin wouldn’t be walking anywhere, the dancer just scooped him up and carried him to his room, figuring the younger would be most comfortable in his own bed. He was met with no resistance at all but he wasn’t sure whether the flush on the vocalist’s cheeks was from fever or embarrassment, both probably. Tucking Seungmin in, Felix chuckled when his dongsaeng held onto his wrist, tugging him. The grip was really weak and the dancer would have had no problem freeing himself, but he climbed under the blanket with a small smile, heart beating fast, when the younger snuggled into his side. “Want me to read you a story, puppy?”, he whispered. The vocalist nodded against his friend’s arm: “I-I lohh- N’gsCH! *sniff* -love y-your voice.” Chuckling Felix pulled out his phone and searched up a calm and peaceful bedtime story, making sure to keep his voice soft and low, while the hand that didn’t hold the phone drew comforting circles on his dongsaeng’s back.

#sick #sickfic #fanfic #stray kids #skz #snz #fluff #comfort #whump #kim seungmin #lee felix #seunglix

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evildeadgf · 3 years

Text

coffee & tv.

Gabriel Enjolras never necessarily believed in miracles, no, but what else could explain what would eventually lead him to her? Perhaps he had let Jehan's preachings of "no coincidences" force itself within the boundaries of his well established skepticism, like an invasive thought, intruding into the high walls of his crumbling kingdom. Whatever the case - miracle, fate, coincidence; Éponine had come into Enjolras' life when he had needed it most, and for that, he was grateful, grateful to whatever had crossed their paths.

Seated towards the back of the tiny yet comfortable and cozy club that was neatly hidden away in its obscurity from the public, Enjolras dragged a hand over his face, tired, looking over the documents on his laptop. Prouvaire hollered loudly next to him as they welcomed the next musician to the little stage, causing the exhausted golden boy to look up towards the commotion. A woman with an acoustic guitar was approaching the mic-stand, a sheepish dimpled smile growing on her face. She coughed, brushed a stray hair out of her face before introducing herself and looked out toward the crowd. "Thanks for that." There was a laugh in her voice. Something probably to do with nerves, Enjolras thought to himself. He'd definitely be nervous if someone were to place him front of a crowd where they most definitely expected you to have the voice of a god or goddess, or anything in-between. Lecturing to hundreds of students? Sure, he was capable. Singing? He'd rather opt out of that one, only the trusty shower knew how he sounded in that regard.

"Name's Éponine, hope you're all enjoying your night. Here's a little something I wrote." With that, the woman with the dimpled smile filled the club with her music; a voice escaping her that made even Enjolras blink to himself, she sounded professional, the likes of which you'd hear on the radio. What was someone with a talent such as that doing in a club that was hidden, known to only hipsters like Jehan? He shook his head and focused back on his work, letting the girl's voice become a lullaby of sorts; it was definitely relaxing, he'd be lying if he were to say it wasn't, his shoulders weren't so tense as they'd been before, and the wrinkled lines on his forehead probably had calmed some. When the song had finished, he looked up toward her again, a half-smile unknowingly pulling at his lips. Éponine smiled at the patrons, looking specifically toward her - he noticed - at a bug eyed blonde who whistled for the singer, and a brunette, small, clapping with the glee of someone who looked as if they still held a childlike view of the world, he was good at picking up these things. He clapped along with them, looking directly at the musician again, she awkwardly stood there for a moment before grabbing her guitar case and rushing off stage, making way for the next.

Little did Enjolras know, that this would become a new routine - get a coffee after work, sit with Jehan at the back of the club, and listen to her whenever she came in. This was solely for finishing work with a clear mind, obviously, there was absolutely no other reasons whatsoever, you'd be mad to even suggest as much. Two weeks into the routine, Éponine looked toward him and Jehan after her song was over, a sort of glint in her eye, and for someone such as Enjolras, who mastered at reading others like a book; he couldn't discern that look in her eye. With a cough, he had broken the stare, looking over the finished exams of his students. Jehan coughed back at him, earning a roll of the eyes from Enjolras. "Would you mind?" Enjolras quipped at the poet, which gave him a nudge of Jehan's arm to his own. "What're you doing right now, Prouvaire? I'm trying to work. I come here with you to work, I could do this at home just as easily." Jehan was now the one to roll his eyes at him, gesturing over to the three women; Éponine and her two friends. Enjolras feigned clueless for a moment, putting on a portrayal as if he had no idea as to why Jehan was not so subtly looking over at the three with the giddiness akin to a schoolboy.

"Don't play dumb with me, Enjolras. You like when that woman sings. You clap! You look to her in awe! It's almost like something out of a play. Romantic, no?" Enjolras simply deadpanned at him in response, letting out a sigh. "Ah, who am I kidding, hm? You know nothing of romance." A grin played out on Jehan's face as he took another sip from his latte, and Enjolras merely furrowed his brows at the man, not wanting a moment of this. Nothing could have prepared him for what was about to unfold, however, as Jehan rose from his seat, walking over to the three women in question. That smug asshole. The entire world could probably see the pure look of horror on Enjolras' face. "Enjolras!" Jehan called out, "Come over, say hi!" He sat with the ladies as if he knew them, and the realisation of the fact he most likely did crashed over him in waves. With the looks aimed toward him, he swallowed up his pride and quickly zipped up his laptop inside the case with a force that was a tad bit too strong, making his way other to the table - a routine that was comfortable for him had suddenly become a nightmare. "Here he is. This my friend with the stick up his arse that I've all been telling you about. 'Ponine, Cosette, Azelma - meet Gabriel Enjolras, he doesn't interact with women all that much; so apologies on his behalf." The small brunette barked with laughter at Jehan's remark, Éponine looking over to her with raised brows and a smile whereas the blonde greeted him with a quiet 'hello', much appreciated over roaring laughter.

Éponine looked away from the small one and directly toward him instead, "Azelma can be a bit loud, sorry about that." No kidding, but for the sake of politeness, Enjolras simply brushed it off and told her that it was okay before he formally introduced himself, noticing now that Jehan was chattering away with Azelma and Cosette, leaving him to speak to the singer alone. He clung to his laptop almost as if for dear life. "You've been here a lot these past few weeks with Jehan and never once stopped by to say hi, you always leave early. Now what's up with that?" There was that glint in her eyes that he didn't know how to place again, he felt heat building up in his throat - that was one way to be confrontational, he thought, and not to mention more observing than he had originally thought her to be. He had no clue that she had even retained knowledge of his existence outside of this little hole in the wall coffee club, in a rare turn of events he supposed he had now become the oblivious one. What two weeks could do to someone. Éponine rested her head against her hand, elbow propped up against the table, doe eyes staring up at him.

She reminded him of both a kitten and pup, mixed into one person, how was that even remotely possible? He had never made that distinction about a person before, new experiences seemed to be happening all around; what a world. He couldn't help but groan quietly to himself, his thumb unconsciously rubbing at a tear-duct before clinging to his laptop again, he suddenly had no idea what to do his hands nor himself. "I don't know if one could count the early morning hours as early, per se. I think of anything after midnight as 'it's time to go to bed', but that has definitely not stopped me before from working until five in the morning." A perfect brow perked up at him, a cheeky sort of smile dancing at the corners of her mouth. At the back of his mind, deep down in there (you'd need to go very deep before coming back with this fleeting thought) he couldn't help but think of her many facial expressions to be cute and, well, attractive. It would be a blatant lie to not admit to himself that Éponine was attractive, that much was very obvious to anyone who was blessed with vision.

"Five in the morning! Far out. How do you cope? I mean yeah, I've absolutely stayed up past my schedule once or twice playing The Sims because, c'mon, that's honest work when you've got a whole family who works to earn that bread and butter, and the hours just fly by and then what d'ya know? It's accidentally almost six, not PM, but AM." She had him laughing, genuinely laughing, and it's so foreign that it surprises him before he'd caught himself. Jehan was in too deep with the two girls to even notice what had just transpired. Enjolras couldn't remember the last time he had let himself unwind like this, to properly relax and take his seemingly always busy mind away from his work - to laugh, to smile, to integrate himself with new people. It was a good, welcoming feeling - warm, rather.

The pair who had been left alone to their own devices had ended up speaking to one another for a long while; Enjolras had learned rather quickly that Éponine would die of embarrassment if she were to busk; she already had a day job, there was no need for anything else - in her own words, busking reminded her too much of her father, and that was that, she wouldn't delve too deep into that topic, and Enjolras was understanding, the last thing he wanted was to prod into places where he had absolutely no business in the first place. He learned that the small brunette, Azelma, was her younger sister, who currently lived with her in her apartment temporarily until Azelma could get back onto her feet and land a new job. It was apparent that she and her family were not well off, which saddened him some, but she was a woman of determination, and stern, at that, he didn't need to ask her to know that she didn't want help from anyone that was well off. It wasn't as if Enjolras was a billionaire himself, though he had a steady income and a roof over his head that he could pay the rent for, and that was more than you could say for the less fortunate. At fifteen minutes past two, the group said goodbye to one another, and Éponine forced his phone into her hands, putting her details into his contacts. "Don't be a stranger."

And he would prove to her that he certainly wouldn't be. He couldn't help but message her during the week days, asking her how she was, what she was up to, the early pleasantries. Three months had gone by, and during those three months, there was a point where Éponine, as Jehan would say 'ghosted' him for a week because of a disagreement they had over a phone call; it had been over something minuscule, yet she would not double down, and it had infuriated him to no end. She was sarcastic, stubborn (just as much as he was) and loved to correct him whenever he was "wrong" about something, and yet, there was something about her that had him coming back. He had been genuinely upset when he had been 'ghosted', and reacted by not showing up to the coffee club that weekend, which had been a stupid move on his part. After work that following day, he would go see her at her day job, working at a clothing retail store, with a bag of her favourite things - a very specific brand of chocolate and a bottle of cheap rosé (which she would constantly say outshone any other type). She had almost choked upon seeing him walk into the store, that dimpled smile he had missed gracing her face upon digging into the bag. "Wow, what's this? My birthday?" She had scoffed in disbelief, shaking her head. "But in all seriousness, thank you, Gabriel. You didn't need to do this for me, you know how I get sometimes. I was gonna say something, reach out and say sorry for how bratty I was being but, hey, I s'pose I'll just take this instead." With another smile, she had thrown her arms around him in an embrace for the very first time, and he went home thinking about it until he had went to sleep that night.

He had no interest in any sort of romantic relationship, always deeming himself too busy for them, much to the dismay of his family. No one had caught his eye nor interested him, and he had been fine with that up until Éponine had become this force in his life to reckoned with. It was pathetic how long he thought about that hug for, about how nice it was to be entangled with her in such a manner, about how comfortable it was, about how warm she felt, about how much she smiled afterward. It was thought after thought after thought, and they were definitely not going to let up. Five months now of knowing Éponine and she had him completely wrapped around her finger, he would go so far as to even message her during his breaks after lectures, it was becoming a bit too much to the point where he knew she ought to have realised something. Everyone that knew Enjolras prior to meeting Éponine knew, he was perfectly aware, and they chose to say nothing, because they knew he knew, even the loudmouth Grantaire, of all people, had not harassed him about this. This was suffocating, suffocating up until that six month point where he was there with her at the club after her performance, he completely broke and had blurted out to her, "Do you want to have dinner with me on Friday evening?" She let out a breath in return, deep dimples with that beautiful, breathtaking smile.

"Who do you take me for, Gabriel Enjolras?"

That Friday evening, they enjoyed a night in his apartment with Chinese takeaway and movies; sure, it wasn't anything fancy, but Éponine had wanted this, and who was he to refuse her? At some point in the night, she had rested her temple against his shoulder, getting comfortable, and he was suddenly very hyper-aware of the fact that Éponine Thénardier was in a close proximity to him, leaning on him, his heart almost skipping a beat when her hand began to rest atop his knee. He seemed to be frozen in that moment, he knew what she was doing; she was making the first move, and yet he sat there like a marble statue, unsure of what to do with the beautiful woman that was currently getting comfortable on his couch. His palms surely sweating, he reached out to place his hand over hers, locking their fingers together. He swallowed harshly, heart racing. This was it, he had to admit to himself how he felt, that he was absolutely head over heels for Éponine in the most uncharacteristic fashion. In response to their entwined fingers, she only got more comfortable, a dreamlike sigh escaping her.

Without thinking, he kissed the top of her head, heat engulfing his whole form, his face burning. Éponine broke their hold, and just like that, her lips were pressed against his, the coldness of her palm resting against his cheek greatly appreciated in that moment. Embarrassingly enough, he had no recollection of the last time he had kissed someone, but hopefully for her sake, he had not become an awful kisser in the time he had for the lack of a better word, abstained from the act of doing so, though he did return her kiss with the same sort of vigor, an arm wrapping around her waist. He was nervous, probably messy - but she didn't seem to care, smiling and giggling to herself more times than he could count on one hand during their shared moment of passion. When they finally parted, Éponine merely looked up at him with that cheeky catlike grin on her face that he couldn't help but adore. "God, you have no idea how long I've been waiting to do that."

He could most definitely say the same.

#enjonine #enjolras x eponine #you are my revolution #les mis #lizzie writes #it's been ... so long guys ... i haven't written for e/e since i think 2015??? 2016??? but i'm so happy to be back :')#text

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hyuniebaby · 4 years

Text

Focus (4)

Pairings: Baekhyun x Y/N x Junmyeon

Genre: smut

Warnings: oral (giving & receiving), throat fucking, daddy kink

AU: College student! Baekhyun, Professor! Junmyeon AU, college!au

A/N: Surprise!!!!!! Another update!!! I wasn’t expecting this fic to be really dirty but here it is now.... i hope you enjoy reading this.

@coffee-prince-kyungsoo

Your class with Mr. Jung ended earlier than expected. The five hour lecture was cut short to three. He had to attend some meeting with the Chemistry Department faculty so with two hours to spare, you and your friends decide to go to the cafeteria to grab a quick meal.

As your group exits the room, you hear someone call your name. All of you turn your heads to the person who said your name.

“Jongdae?”

“Hey Y/N, I need to talk to you real quick.”

You tell your friends they can go ahead to the cafeteria, you’ll follow them afterwards. You thought Jongdae was going to talk about the quiz bee team so you casually walked up to him.

“So I heard something about you and someone.”

Your eyes widened. You immediately grab him by his hand and drag him to the nearest empty room. Unfortunately for you, it was the janitor’s closet.

“He told you?!” You exclaimed.

Baekhyun was right, you were cute! He remained silent, allowing you to rant while he maintained his smug look. His eyes landed on your hickey, but he kept quiet.

“Wow great, am I the talk of the Chem seniors now?” You run your hands through your hair, ruining your ponytail completely.

“Chill. He only told me. You do know I’m his best friend and roommate, right?”

“I don’t! I don’t see you hanging around him.” You tell him. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

You abruptly went out the closet, Jongdae following behind you asking you to wait.

You turn to your left and you run into someone. You look up to see it was Junmyeon. His eyes furrowed as he looked at you. You had messy hair, you were sweating a little, breathing heavily, and you have a hickey. Not to mention the fact that you came from the janitor’s closet with Jongdae. He looks at you and Jongdae.

Seriously? Were you that desperate for a fuck that you would do it in school? The thought made him furious. He takes a step towards you and growls to your ear “Find me after your last class.” The way he said it made you feel chills down your spine.

He walks away but not before glaring at Jongdae.

The both of you stood there in place, shocked at how Mr. Kim responded. You went red out of embarrassment.

Not a while later, someone calls out to Jongdae. You freeze. Great, just great. The last person you wanted to see today was here.

“Baekhyun.” Jongdae greets. “What are you doing here?”

“Mrs. Lee called me in to discuss something about my thesis. Wait, is that Y/N?”

You wanted the ground to swallow you up at this moment. You refused to face Baekhyun.

“Yes... We — uh — we talked about the upcoming assembly for the organization we joined,” he lied.

“In the janitor’s closet?!” Baekhyun hissed. Jongdae was sweating now. The situation made it look like they did something dirty.

Afraid of what will happen next, you take this opportunity to sprint to the cafeteria. You do not want to be part of the argument so you “noped” your way out of the situation.

You weren’t even finished with this day but you were already so drained at this point. Your body was still sore and you don’t know how you were able to run twice this day.

Adrenaline does work wonders.

You stopped before entering the cafeteria, trying to catch your breath. When you were composed, instead of going to your friends’ table, you opt to buy your meal first. You’d rather have something to eat while you and your friends get into a long conversation about what happened to you.

You’re a very reserved person, you don’t go out much. You only ever go party when your friends are around and strictly during the weekends only. Your friends would sometimes call your life boring but you’d rather describe it as simple. So when something remotely interesting happens to you, they jump on it. They genuinely want you to enjoy your college life, especially since when you start your professional lives, all of you were going to be so damn busy.

As you took a seat on your table, your friends stare at you, waiting for you to start talking. You chuckled at how cute they all look. All wide-eyed. All leaning towards you. You felt like a teacher reading a story for toddlers. You take a deep breath and begin to tell them what happened. Now that they’ve seen you talk to Jongdae, you can’t really lie about Baekhyun anymore so you just tell them the story truthfully up until your talk with him in the janitor’s closet.

What you fabricated though, was when Mr. Kim saw both of you. You played it off as some grumpy old professor saw this and reprimanded you both. You were to talk to this professor after class.

“So how was it with Baekhyun?!” Joohyun blurts.

You turn red again. “It was amazing. And he has really pretty hands,” you say. “I’m definitely up for a second time” you jokingly added. But for real though, you wanted it to happen again. But you don’t tell your friends that.

“Ooh is this the Y/N we all know? Getting laid on a weekday, on the first day of classes... What happened to ‘weekdays are for studying’?” Seulgi said.

“It was a one time thing! I’m definitely not doing it again on a weekday. 3/10, would not recommend. The sex was 15/10 though.” Your friends laughed loudly at what you said. Of course the conversation wouldn’t end without you exaggerating at least once.

The rest of the classes you had went by fairly quick. The next thing you know, you were walking towards Mr. Kim’s office. Your heart was beating so loud. You don’t get into trouble. Ever. What happened earlier and how Mr. Kim reacted definitely screams “You’re in trouble, young lady.”

With a knock, you enter Mr. Kim’s office. He looks up from the papers he was reading and motions you to sit. You did as you were told.

“It’s not what if looks like, Mr. Kim,” you started. “We were just talking about something private.”

He raises his brow in question. He obviously doesn’t believe you. “Y/N I’m not dumb, you know.”

“But it’s true,” you whined.

Mr. Kim abruptly stands up and goes over to your side. He leans in and whispers in your ear “Do you really have to do it inside the campus? You can’t just wait to be fucked, huh?” His voice dropped an octave lower. He sounded so sexy, it sent tingles on your nether regions.

He looks at you in the eye, you can see lust. You gulped. He slips his hand under your skirt, he never breaks the eye contact, his hands rubbing your core through your panties. “I can feel your wetness, Y/N.”

“You look so pretty squirming like this.” He says.

Without warning, he moves your panties to the side and inserts a single finger in you. You moan instinctively. “You’re so naughty. Getting fingered by your professor in his office. Such a bad girl.” He tsks.

“Please...”

“Please what?”

“Please give me more, Junmyeon...”

He pulls out his finger. “Is that what you’re supposed to call me?”

You whimper. “Daddy, please give me more.”

His eyes grew darker at that. He leans in and starts kissing your neck while inserting two fingers in you. You moan at the sensation. It felt so good. His fingers felt so good.

Junmyeon hates the fact that someone marked you. Filled with jealousy, he starts marking the other side of your neck. He pulls out his fingers again and lifts your sweater. He unclasps your bra and lets it fall on the floor. He scans your body. You were half naked in front of him. Your eyes begging him to do something, anything. He kisses you this time. You don’t dare to fight him for dominance. He grabs your chin and breaks off the kiss, he shows you the fingers he used on you. “Suck” he orders. You do as you’re told. You suck his fingers while you looked him in the eyes. This gets him harder. He removes his fingers from your mouth, capturing your lips in a heated kiss again. He squeezes your breasts and pinches your nipples. He kisses your neck and then your breasts. He sucks on your right nipple while his other hands continue to carress your left boob.

You touch his hair and arch your back. He backs off. “You do not get to touch.” You nod in understanding. He then leaves a mark on your chest. Just a few inches about your nipples. He proceeds to remove your panties and lifts your skirt. Without warning, he slips his tongue to your core. “Fuck, you taste so sweet baby girl.” You let out a moan. He continues to eat you out while he inserts his fingers to your pussy again. You were so close. He can feel your cunt clenching.

All of a sudden, he detaches himself to you. You whine. “You don’t get to cum. You’ve been a naughty girl. Bad girls need to be punished.” You were shocked and frustrated. You were so close!

He then removes pants and shows you his cock. Knowing what he wants, you kneel in front of him. “Put that dirty little mouth of yours to work.” He says. You start licking the sides of his shaft. “Don’t tease,” he growls. You take him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you bob your head up and down. You squeeze his balls and he moans out your name. “You feel so good, baby girl.” He grabs your hair and fucks your throat. You were choking on his dick but you didn’t care. You loved it. You love how rough he was being. Seeing you on your knees, getting fucked on your mouth with tears in your eyes drove him mad. He thrusts in your mouth a few more times and he cums. You swallow everything. He stares at you in awe. You looked thoroughly fucked.

He picks up your clothes and gives them back to you except your panties. “I’ll take these.” He says while he shows you your panties. You dress up immediately.

He sits on his table. “So Jongdae, huh?”

It took you a minute to respond. One minute he was eating you out and fucking your throat, the next, he’s talking about another man. “No, Mr. Kim. It wasn’t Jongdae.”

He gives you a questioning look.

“It was Baekhyun.”

His initial reaction was shock and then he turns jealous and then he grows irritated. Fucking Baekhyun.

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bansept · 4 years

Text

Family festival

A very big shout-out to @star-snail whose Ichihime fanart inspired this fanfic : it is a very beautiful piece that just radiates peace and love and fun to me, so I tried my best to convey this in a written way. I hope I do their work justice 🙃

-----------------------------------

Japan is the land of festivals, Ichigo is pretty darn sure of that. He is far from complaining, especially because it allows all his family to reunite so that they can eat sweets, have fun, pray and just, be together.

For days, the house down the street of the Kurosaki clinic had been filled with excited chatters of both Orihime and Kazui, the little boy asking his mother about this and that story, his mother explaining with great details. The 5 year-old had looked at her like magic was pouring out of her mouth, which was probably the case, to him. Kazui had asked about many festivals, including the Tanabata one, which of course brought tears to his eyes.

"B-but why did they part away? Why aren't they together!"

He wasn't a fussy boy, very far from it. He was calm and collected, and obeyed all instructions, but when it involved anything bad, even remotely linked to his parents (a name in this case), he was crying.

So Ichigo had to assure him that no, mommy wouldn't go in the stars, no, they wouldn't be separated. Yes, he could have a big kiss from papa.

"Ichigo, come get Kazui please!" Orihime called out from their room, and her husband complied, leaving the kitchen to tickle his son, who was playing with a few toys near their sofa.

The boy laughed at the fingers on his sides, wriggling in his dad's arms. He shook his tiny legs to try to get him out of such a monstrous grip, but Ichigo had him in a hug in an instant, his son up in his arms as they climbed the stairs.

"Here is my prey... Where do I put him, Hime?" Ichigo chuckled in a fake deep voice, which pulled a squeal from his son, who extended his hands to his mom, hoping to get away from his horrible father.

"Oh, well how about you give this cute boy a bath before dressing him up? We'll be late..."

"We are supposed to meet the rest in an hour, Hime, don't worry."

Ichigo walked to his nervous wife and gave her a very gentle peck on the cheek, hoping to calm her down. Kazui turned his head to the side, suddenly interested in what was on the walls while Orihime blushed a little.

"... You're right. I'm just a bit nervous... I don't know why."

Ichigo gave Kazui a little kiss on the temple before placing him back on the floor, and rubbed his back.

"Kazui, can you go get ready for the bath? I'll be here in a second."

The boy, being the sweetheart he was, nodded simply and pitty patted to the washroom, leaving his parents in their room. Ichigo looked back to his wife and raised his hand to caress her cheek.

"Orihime? Are you okay?"

The young woman breathed out, going to hug Ichigo and burying her face in his neck. She melted in his touch when she felt Ichigo's arms wrap around her, drawing nonsense on the fabric of her kimono.

"I am, it's just... I'm reminded of... I don't know, everything. My parents, my brother... For the first ones, I still wish I had some knowledge of them. And Ni-Chan... He would have been happy to be with us."

Ichigo could only agree with her, only knowing one part of the way she felt. He wished his mother was here today too, to be with her husband and her children and now Kazui too. But it was impossible.

"They're not here physically. But the people we love are with us in spirit." Ichigo said simply, his strong arms tightening a little around Orihime, his face meeting with the top of her hair.

Orihime didn't answer, only hugging him more, letting her emotions calm down, the thrumming of her heart go back to normal. Those types of thoughts didn't come often, not because she was too happy to get them, simply because there was no reason to feel bad about the past. But tonight... Tonight felt different.

After a few minutes, Orihime gave Ichigo more of her sweet and enlightening smile, brushing a hand on his cheek to thank him before getting downstairs. Ichigo went back to his son, who was looking at his reflection and waiting patiently.

"Ah, sorry Kazui. Took more than one second. But now mommy is better and you can get washed!"

Ichigo started the bath and quickly but very carefully washed the boy, who giggled and tried to splash his dad with water multiple times, but was stopped with the promise of more treats if he was nice tonight. Wetting a kimono with soap-filled water? Big no no.

The boys got ready pretty fast, father making sure that son was comfortable in his kimono and waraji, not daring to try to tame his unruly hair. He really was like Ichigo in that department. The only way to make sure it wasn't all over the place was to cut them, even if another reason was more, hem, personal.

Totally not related to how Orihime all but loved to scratch the back of his head and it was easier done when the hair is short.

They got down the stairs, Kazui holding onto Ichigo's hand tightly to not fall, still not used to the straw shoes in his little feet. Orihime checked her reflection one last time before squatting to her son, giving him a big smooth on the forehead, praising Ichigo for dressing him so well.

Did the two blush profusely? Yes. One because he was a little boy and proud to make his mommy proud, and the other one because damn if his wife wasn't the most jaw dropping beautiful woman in existence.

A few knocks on the door wanted them of the arrival of the louder part of the family, as Ichigo jokingly called them. Isshin didn't really wait until anyone opened the door to burst it open, his laughter and happy face infectious.

"Ah! Where is my grandson! Oh, you look so good.. so cute my boy!" He sniffed, tears already streaming down his face as he kneeled down to hug Kazui. Yuzu almost did the same, but had some self restraint (thank goodness) and instead laughed with Orihime. Karin kept the door opened and saluted everyone calmly, without a word, but the smile on her face too obvious for her to pretend to be unhappy about the commotion.

-----------------------------------

All of them, after a lot of tears, walked to the closest festival stalls, the night setting in and the lampions lighting up the streets, giving it a fairy tale like atmosphere. Kazui walked neatly next to his father, holding to his arm closely, but his eyes darted everywhere in wonder. This green light, that blue stall... Some people wore masks and some kids were chasing each other with tiny fireworks in their hands.

"Let's get some food! Yuzu insisted on not making any at home as to not waste the one here..."

The young girl nodded her head enthusiastically while her twin sister trotted to a Ikayaki stall, asking for one before watching the drama play out.

"Well yes, because otherwise you would have eat like normal but all your appetite would have been gone with us and you would have complained about your stomach!"

Yuzu lectured her father, and Orihime stood next to her to tap her shoulder and calm her down, otherwise it would turn into a quite loud conversation. Karin came back next to her twin and gave her a candy apple, placing it in her hand.

"Don't mind him. Let's enjoy the festival. Let him eat if he wants."

The sisters walked ahead, not really caring about their dad's wailing, Ichigo pushing Kazui between Orihime and him.

"Tsk, he always has to be dramatic about everything..."

"But it's funny papa! When grandpa cries he always makes funny faces! And then I hug him and poof! Gone!"

Orihime gave her son a very sweet kiss on the forehead, because who wouldn't melt at the boy's sweet heart and words.

"Hm, oh, Hime. Look there."

Ichigo pointed at a stall with a shooting contest, which confused the woman at first, before she clapped her hands excitedly.

"Oh, we've haven't done one in so long!" She giggled, jogging to the inviting booth with Kazui on her side. Ichigo smiled brightly, shaking his head. Who was the child?

"You go win her a prize, I'll look after Kazui." Isshin told him, surprisingly calm after one minute of crying. He raised an eyebrow at his dad who clapped his hands together before raising Kazui in the air.

"Kazui, you'll see if your papa is good with shooting targets. If he's not, then you'll be staying with me for a while week!"

So, that meant going to bed very late, eating candy, not doing any kind of work and losing a few braincells because of Isshin cooing at him and talking to him like a baby.

No way was he going to lose. Especially when Orihime was watching intently, her hands holding each other on her chest.

-----------------------------------

Of course Ichigo won.

And got the biggest prize he could obtain, a grey teddy bear, proudly holding it for his wife. Orihime was filled with happiness, feeding him a chocolate banana from time to time.

The evening passed like that : between chatters, contests, street food and laughter, not a single Kurosaki wasn't smiling. The sisters stood close to Orihime, always hoping to spend more time with her, always hoping to find this reminder of Masaki in her. Ichigo walked by her side, listening to their chatters and keeping an eye on Kazui, who was getting sleepy.

"Papa?"

"Hm?"

"Who is that?"

Ichigo turned his face to look on his right, where Kazui had pointed at, but seeing no one. There was barely any civilian at the stalls around them, so it was safe to say Kazui definitely needed some well earned sleep. Ichigo crouched down to pick him up in his arms, patting his head gently.

"You're tired baby, were going home soon. You can sleep some if you want."

"But the lady..."

"Hm?"

Kazui couldn't say more, already closing his little arms and snoring softly. The day had been long, of course he was exhausted. Ichigo made sure he held him tight, the teddy in his other hand being a bit of a pain now. Orihime stopped to check on the little boy, her heart feeling like it turned goowee at the adorable sight.

"We should head back... Kazui needs to take some well deserved rest." Ichigo announced to his family, the two girls nodding in unison and Isshin hugging Orihime quickly before patting Ichigo on the shoulder.

"We had a great time, thank you, to the three of you." Orihime bowed and got her goodbyes back at her, Yuzu making one last joke with her before everyone returned to their homes.

-----------------------------------

Once Kazui was changed and put to bed, Ichigo cracked his back bones and brushed his teeth sleepily, now in his sleeping t-shirt and shorts. Weird how before he could have his bed time at 3 in the morning without any problem, and now 11:30 was the maximum.

He heard Orihime sigh next door, in their room, and popped his head out of the bathroom door.

"Hm?"

She laughed at his cute appearance and his puppy look, the head tilted to the side. She waved her hand as if to say "later, later" and went back to changing. Ichigo frowned, the infamous gesture that he had forgotten along the years bringing back the usual anxiety he felt in his younger days.

He spit in the sink and washed up his hands before entering their room and pushing the door closed.

"Hime, what's wrong? Please tell me..." He asked, sitting on the bed to watch her take her hair down, unleashing it from the tight grip of her sofisticated bun. She sighed again, and Ichigo frowned again, before going to hug him, the force of it pushing Ichigo to lay on the bed with his wife in his arms.

"Hime..."

"Nothing is wrong, I promise." She cut him off, rolling to her side if the bed and staring at his eyes. She was not lying, she was alright but then why did she sigh? Why did she look so exhausted when they return back home?

Ichigo still nodded, reassured to a point, before leaning down to kiss her in the lips. She gladly accept the peck, placing her hands on his face in such a sweet and careful hold, Ichigo definitely wanted to kiss her more. But she pulled away again, still looking at him with this strange look, one that made her eyes glitter in excitement. Orihime took one of his hands, so strong, so callous from all those fights, to place it on her belly, warm tears filling her eyes.

"I'm pregnant."

-----------------------------------

Oh I'm so bad for leaving this like that 😂 but then again, if you guys want the rest, you can always ask for it hehe

As I am not Japanese, I had to research for festivals and clothes and food, hopefully what I wrote made sense ;;

#bleach #ichihime #pro ichihime #ichihime headcanon #ichihime writing #ichihime fanfiction #papa ichigo #mama orihime #ichigo kurosaki #orihime kurosaki #kazui kurosaki #isshin kurosaki #karin kurosaki #yuzu kurosaki #do go check the artist's work it is very beautiful!

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sienna-writes · 4 years

Text

Butterfly Blood || novel update

chapter three

I initially had a lot of trouble with this chapter. It’s been through about three drafts and it’s still nowhere near perfect, but I’m working on just moving forward with the novel now and am trying to quit obsessing over revising because... it’s unrealistic to expect a first draft to be perfect.

The first draft of this particular chapter, though, was basically all dialogue, and all very poorly executed dialogue. (Dialogue is absolutely the weakest aspect of my writing but I’m working on it.) On my second attempt at the chapter I initially attempted to create an outline, thinking this would help me find a direction. However, in my next writing session I ended up totally ignoring the outline and just winging it, and the second draft was formed. I really liked the events in the chapter now but still wasn’t happy with some of the individual scenes so I reworked it yesterday morning. The argument between Rowan and Karmen still needed revision because Karmen’s character within it was totally inconsistent to his usual disposition. So! The final (for now..) draft is a more stripped back, since Karmen is too disassociated to get as angry as he did as quickly as he did, and I think the tension and the build up is a lot better timed and more... muted? It’s less overt, more subtext heavy, and I'm relieved because that is what I had been trying to achieve all along.

Again, it’s not perfect, but it has evolved and it is definitely better than before.

The chapter is just over 3000 words now, but I am only going to be sharing the main, gritty extract. The other scenes are less exciting, but I also suspect they need the same amount of work till they're even remotely sharable. (I was going through a bad writing slump in this chapter lol.) I really hope you enjoy it? I'm ultimately quite proud of how it turned out in the end :)

excerpt:

[Rowan has missed her GP appointment + her dad uses it as an oppurtunity to also be angry about her slacking in school]

“I’ve booked another for tomorrow morning. You’ll miss some school, but I figured that’d be an incentive since you don’t seem to care about that anymore.” There is now an edge to his voice that hadn't been there before.

Rowan visibly flinches, digging her fingernails into the supple skin of her palms. The dents purple then fill with blood. She locks eyes with her father, searching for the reason for his sudden anger. He has struck a nerve and he knows it.

“Miss Phelps called.”

She pushes her toes into the dirt, white sneakers now blotted with dust. “Oh.”

He doesn’t ask for an explanation, simply straightens his back like an ancient scroll unravelling itself and meets her gaze finally. Karmen stands with his chest puffed out and his chin pointed forward. It is apparent that he won't ask her side of things. He’s heard enough, and has his made up his mind about her already.

Rowan pushes past him to get inside. Karmen doesn’t shift as she squeezes by his statuesque stance. His face twitches like a camera shutter, so fast she can barely believe the change in his expression. She convinces herself it didn’t happen and throws her bag onto the couch, almost tempting another lecture. A tamer one. Something he could murmur through his daydream fog before slipping back into his silence and letting everything remain undiscussed. Like it normally is. Her slipping grades. Her laziness in class. Not writing a single word in an entire school day. Talking back for little to no reason.

He turns as her rucksack lands, his footsteps looming behind her. Something sharpens the air between them, but she can’t tell what. The elephant is in the room and it is wrecking the place. They watch the destruction mutely, each waiting for the other to intervene and consequently letting the walls crumble into ruin. The old house audibly creaks, it is so quiet. Finally, Karmen speaks. “What’s the matter with you?”

Rowan runs through all the excuses she can think of. I was dropped as a child. I was a premature baby, so my brain must be under-developed. The content is so easy it feels obsolete. I’m being bullied. I’m just not as smart as you thought, dad, sorry. Teachers are liars and we both should have known this. “There’s just too much.” She says instead, through gritted teeth, moving into the kitchen. “I can’t focus on school and have to be there for everyone.” It is limp and she knows it. It flops between them weakly like a helpless fish. She takes a glass from the cabinet and closes it softly.

He consumes the lie like a starved ghost, though. Proving he doesn’t know her. Doesn’t know how absent a friend she has been of late. How she has become her father at school, numb and quiet. How, secretly, she enjoys the façade because people avoid her, don’t ask difficult questions, don’t tackle her with unnecessary comments about her long-lost mother. “Then stop being there.” He says simply.

Rowan scoffs. “I do enough of that at home.” She studies her dad’s face—clenched jaw and squinting eyes—as if it hurts to look at her. “Everyone’s always telling everything how things must be. I must participate, I must be smart not emotional, I must not slack for exams I know I will pass without a glance at my books”—suddenly an urge to twist the knife into his gut overwhelms her, she draws out the moment as she fills the glass with a thread of water from the tap—"I must deal with a stranger for a Dad and a god knows what for a mother. A shrieking banshee? An abusive fugitive? She’s probably become a social worker just to scorn us.”

He rolls his lips, lowers his gaze and chews on the inside of his cheek, sucking it in. Rowan’s breath catches in her throat. In this moment he looks shockingly hollow. Did she empty him? Wind him with her blows? Spoon out his entrails with an ice cream scoop? Carve him like the roasted corpse of some great beast? Karmen puts two hands on the back of the chair opposite her, clutching it as if he might just fall over. His stare is cold and unsympathetic when he raises it toward her. “Don’t you want to make something of yourself?”

Yes. “What?” She laughs bitterly, placing the tumbler on the counter with a satisfying thud. “Like how you made something of yourself?” There is a terrible moment where he sits in the midst of the cruelty, shrinks into himself as if absorbing it, before his mouth creaks open and he lets out a broken shriek.

“GOD DAMMIT ROWAN!” Rowan flies back, arms sheltering her head instinctively as he reaches for the glass she placed on the counter, spins, and throws it at the wall. One big horrific movement. A cutting arc of his arm through the air and then the shattering. “Are you ever even listening?”

Millions of glittering fragments of her life laid out before her, encircling her bare feet. She thinks of the sneakers she slipped off at the door, wishing she had them now. Something about naked feet look so naïve, so vulnerable. Her toes shrink, curling inward. Her breath quickens and her hands begin to tremble. All this broken glass. All these fragments like a lifeline stretched between them. Her eyes blink away tears in different shards, her reflection is fragmented, her features lost and bobbing about as if at sea.

“Are you, dad?” Rowan asks in an empty voice, staring at him till he flinches. He stares at the glass on the floor in shock.

“I...” He crouches, sifting through it with his bare, shuddering, and unsure hands. “I don’t know why I did that...”

Rowan gets a sudden urge to have the last word. Except she doesn’t speak. Her eyes settle on the glass and the idea flourishes like a flame in her mind, burning everything rational, everything he might think. To hell with appropriate. To hell with acceptable. One unsteady step. She expects a crunch or a crackle, but instead there is a damp muffle and squelch. Her spine rattles and her teeth prickle in response. A sunrise in her chest warms her throat but she presses against it with her palms, forcing it down. It is a scorching, molten pain. Third degree burns and all she swallows rays of light till she is drowning, gorging. Slipping through furnace tongue flames. Rowan gags. Bile and acid boils her tongue and the bright, burnt out orb slips into her stomach. She gulp, gulp, gulps every atom of the blaze that consumes her. Till she is heavy. She walks across the broken glass as he yells out. Let there be outrage. Let the sky fall. Its clouds embrace her limbs, draining everything fluid from her, letting her grow limp. Letting her rain. Heavy. As she moves away from the kitchen, she feels her footsteps peeling from the floor, warm and wet. And she is so, so heavy. Then she stumbles, splintered feet unable to keep her up—her legs can no longer hold her and her lava—as the pain erupts within her fierce and sharp and sudden. Flashing its ugly teeth. Catching one last glimpse before her vision goes dark, she sees a red ocean seeping into the living room. How could one body hold so much? Fast and gushing the rapids wash her dregs of consciousness away. It was just a few steps...

soo... yeah. Rowan walks on glass because, oh lord that girl has no impulse controls.

I'm not going to lie, although it was a pain to get this scene to the stage I have just shared, I think it's one of my favourites in the book so far. I'm proud of how much it's grown. Also, I love me some dramatic descriptions of pain and characters being nasty... :”)

I hope you enjoyed this update! (if you did, reblogs really help me out, but absolutely no pressure <3) I’m also still looking for people to add to the tag list, so if any of this interested you, feel free to send me an ask, message or comment. :)

Tag list under cut (ask to be added or removed):

@alicewestwater @elaz-ivero @coffeeandcalligraphy @hanwatchingmovies @sirfitzroys @chloeswords @nev-953

#butterfly blood #butterfly blood novel #my novel #novel update #novel wip #writing wip #writing #writing project #writing update #chapter update #writer #writeblr #writing process #novel writing #excerpts #novel excerpt #writing excerpt #excerpts from my novel #excerpts from my writing

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queenladyknight · 3 years

Text

Queen of the South

Chapter 1: Dealing With it

Naomi POV

Texas. The Lone Star State. But to you, it's always been home. You owned 150 acres of land to fill with your heart's content. You chose to follow in your grandfather's footsteps in owning a farm. You had 25 milk cows, three pigs, two Appaloosa horses, and an Australian Sheppard named, Bear.

Your farm was your life. You took pleasure in making sure it was taken care of. This farm allowed you to be free when for most of your life, you've been caged away. Hollywood Acres ( what you named it), made you almost forget your life before. Almost.

"Beep! Beep! Beep!" The alarm woke you from your peaceful slumber. You sat up n bed rubbing your eyes. You glanced at the clock while getting out of bed. It read 6:30 am. "I have plenty of time," you thought out loud.

Today was a special day. Your dear sister would be visiting for a few days. She lived all the way in New York, and you had not seen her in a few months. You wanted to make sure everything was in tip-top shape for her arrival.

You stepped out of bed and began getting ready for the day. Bear was running around your bedroom, exited. He seemed to know that today was important. You pulled on a plaid shirt and overtop you put on a pair of short jean overalls. As you got dressed, Bear sat on your bead watching intently. You loved Bear with all your heart. He had been there for you through thick and thin, unlike a lot of people.

You walked out of your bedroom, with Bear at your heels, downstairs to the kitchen. Your farmhouse was too big, but you loved it anyway. It was meant for a family, not just one person and a dog. As you make breakfast, you think about how your grandmother would remark about how this house should be filled with the laughter of little children. She wanted to have grandbabies before she passed, but that was one of the many things I failed to do.

The eggs sizzled in the pan as you poked it with your fork. You had bacon in the oven for you and Bear, his favorite treat. Bear ate and acted as a human most of the time. He barely ate his dog food and had a place at the table.

I put some scrambled eggs and bacon on two small plates. I put one plate in front of Bear and grabbed a fork for myself. "Dig in, Bear." As soon as the command left your mouth, Bear started going to town on the bacon. You laughed and started eating yourself.

Third Person POV

"This is going to be great, you know that?" Tony asked Pepper. The couple was in Tony's lab in Avengers Tower, looking over remodeling plans. Pepper lowered her head on Tony's shoulder while swirling her flute of champagne. "I know it will be amazing, honey," she replied while kissing his cheek. Tony smiled and leaned over the table of plans.

After the Battle of New York, Tony had been emersed in trying to make the Tower better and making new suits. This had not gone unnoticed by Pepper. She was seeing him less and less, and she was worried. Pepper walked to the other side of the table and began her lecture.

"You know Tony, you haven't been getting much sleep lately. And you think I haven't noticed." She paused for a second to make sure Tony was listening. He was too lost in his papers to pay attention. "Tony! This is serious you need to listen!"

With the shout of his name, Tony stood up straight and remarked, "Pepper, hun, don't shout I'm right here." He reached out his arms playfully to go hug Pepper, but she smacked his arm away. "Tony, you think this is a joke, but it's not. You really need to take a break," Pepper scolded.

She walked towards the floor-to-ceiling windows and gazed out. Tony frowned and walked towards her. He had been avoiding this talk for some time, but she was right. He had not been getting any sleep. Nightmares invaded his rest and were unbearable. Smothering himself in his work allowed him to take his mind off what troubled him.

"Pepper, you know you don't have to worry about me. I'm fine," Tony said. He wrapped his arms around Pepper and laid his head on her shoulder. Pepper sighed and replied, " If you say so, Tony, but I'm here for you if you want to talk."

Tony let go of her and walked to the bar. He poured himself some whiskey and walked back to Pepper. " I know Pep, but speaking of break. I think that's a good idea." Pepper nodded and he kept going. " We should go somewhere like Paris or Australia."

"Paris sounds fun, you set it up and I'll go, but for right now," Pepper planted a kiss on Tony's head, " I'm going to fly Stark Headquarters. I'll be gone for a few days." Tony grabbed Pepper's hand as she began to walk out.

" You know how much I love you right?" he asked. Pepper turned toward him and smiled, " You love me to the moon and back."

Naomi's POV

"In other news, the price of gas has gone up significantly in the past few weeks." The news reporter babbled on and on about the gas, while you cooked. You knew your sister was going to be really hungry, so you had to cook a feast.

Cooking one of the other things that gave you joy. It was comforting and peaceful, well usually. Bear was making a lot of racket with his squeaky toy. Bear was sitting in front of the TV, knawing on his toy.

You flipped the pork chops over in the cast iron pan. They sizzled and filled the kitchen with its delicious scent. You wanted to impress your sister with your cooking. You had not seen her in forever and wanted to prove that you were doing something with your life.

As you hovered over the food, the TV caught your attention. "It has been officially a full month since the Battle of New York. With the help of Tony Stark, New York has been slowly picking up the pieces, but it won't look the same. Let's hear more from our New York correspondent, Tina Lakes. Tina, what are you hearing from officials?"

You quickly picked up the remote and turned the channel. The Battle of New York brought up too many things that you weren't ready to deal with yet. Even though you had not been a part of it, seeing the destruction and the fight brought forth many bad memories. You stared at the TV in thought, not realizing the pork chops were getting burned.

"Ruff! Ruff!" Bear barked twice to snap me out of it. I swung around and ran towards the stove. "Shit!" The chops were burnt and inedible. I threw them out and started over. So much for proving myself.

3 hours later

You had finally finished. You had a good-looking dinner prepared. Pork chops, green beans, mashed potatoes, rice, rolls, and a coconut pie. You expected your sister to be here any minute. You walked over to the mirror hanging on the wall. You had fixed your hair in a high ponytail and had changed out of your overalls and into a forest green sundress.

You knew green was your sister's favorite color and you so happened to look good in it. You twirled in the mirror and faced Bear. "How do I look Bear, honey?" Bear barked in response, putting a smile on your face. Just then you heard a knock at the front door. "Coming!" You ran and opened the door with a blazing grin.

"Naomi! How are you!?" You opened the door wider and lept into her arms. "I'm doing good, Alex. Come on in!" You broke the hug and ushered her inside. You and Alex walked into the kitchen. " I like what you've done with the place," Alex remarked looking around the home.

"Thanks! Ready for dinner?" you asked, but you already knew the answer. " I'm super hungry, that plane ride has given me an appetite!" You both laughed and you got out the food. You finished putting the food on the table and sat opposite Alex.

" You made a feast, Naomi!" I grinned and called for Bear. "Bear, honey, it's time to eat!" Bear jumped up and landed in his chair at the table. " Let's dig in!" exclaimed Alex. We all started to devour our food.

"So tell me, Alex, how have you been?" You talked to your sister on the phone once in a while but you really didn't know much. Ever since grandma died we've drifted farther apart.

" I've been well, I recently started a new job and it's been going well. Jason wished he could be with me right now, but he has other responsibilities." You nodded as she kept going about her life. That's one thing you did not miss about your sister, she was a talker.

"Enough about me, what have you been doing?" Alex questioned. You swallowed down some mashed potatoes and responded, " Nothing much, just tending to my farm and hanging out with Bear." You nodded to yourself, pleased with your answer, but Alex was not.

"Naomi, you need to get around more. You can't stay cooped up in this house every day," Alex said. I stopped eating and responded, " Taking care of the farm is a big job, Alex. And I don't have any help. This takes up most of my time. Besides," you reached over to pet Bear, " Bear has been here with me."

Alex scoffed and looked at you straight in the eye. She had striking honey golden eyes. It was like she was piercing into my soul. " I'm going to give it to you bluntly. You haven't been the same since grandma died and you know it. Acting as though nothing happened and running away isn't going to help. You literally ran away from all of us to this place." Alex gestured to the house around her.

You looked down at your food in shame. She was right. You had run away from your problems thinking that getting away would be the answer, but in reality, it only made it worse.

" I'm sorry, Alex. After grandma's funeral, I couldn't do it anymore. I had lost too many people. I didn't realize how it might have affected everyone else." You looked up to see Alex holding back tears.

" We were so worried about you Naomi. We didn't know how to help because wouldn't tell us anything. After you left the Army, you changed a lot, like you went through something."

You looked in your food once again, not wanting to break down in front of Alex. That was a tough subject to talk about. What you went through was traumatic and changed your life drastically.

" I did go through something, Alex, and I'm sorry." Alex nodded and smiled again, " How about we change the subject a little?" You agreed and spent the rest of the evening chatting and eating.

#the avengers #mcu #marvel #the south #iron man #tony stank #steve rogers #natahsa romanoff #bruce banner #thor

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talatomaz · 4 years

Text

alone | dinah drake x lance!reader

a/n: thank you, ‘anon’ ;) also I made the ending super angsty, I’m sorry.

requested by anon: “youngest lance realises how alone she is after e2 laurel leaves for earth 2 as her father is dead, mother is gone and sara is off with the legends so dinah takes her in and stuff? Like dinah and reader bonding kinda thing”

warnings: mentions of death

word count: 1.3k

masterlist | request list | request rules

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

Alone.

Always.

Forever.

***

Switching on the lamp, you sat up in your bed, hugging your knees close to your chest.

You couldn’t sleep. You rarely did since your sister had died.

Laurel, that is.

Sara had been brought back to life but was now off galavanting with the Legends. Not that you minded, of course. The happiest you had ever seen her was when she was time travelling with the Legends.

But it didn’t mean you missed her any less.

You missed your other sister too. Laurel.

Sighing, you rested your head on your knees. She was the best. So kind and hopeful. She definitely was the strongest out of all the Lance’s.

She was taken too soon from you. Callously murdered by Damien Darhk. Even the thought of him brought bile to your throat.

You swallowed harshly.

He was gone. Dead. And that was the only thing that kept you sane.

Now Laurel had returned. Well, not her exactly. Her doppelgänger from a parallel Earth who had pretended to be her. It took you a while to trust her. After all, she was practically evil for the first year or so that you had known her.

But she had changed.

She had become kinder, whilst still remaining her sarcastic self. She became the DA and every so often, you could see your Laurel in her. But she had left too. Back to her own Earth.

You didn’t blame her.

She could barely deal with the fact that she had lost another person she had loved. Your father. Also murdered by a villain. God, you could just not catch a break.

And worst of all, after watching your father die, your mother had disappeared too. You wished you could hate her. Despise her even. But how could you? She had lost two of her daughters and now her ex-husband.

All she had was you.

And who really cared about you?

You weren’t special.

You weren’t a vigilante.

Or a time travelling superhero.

You were just a Uni student, studying Law to follow in your sister’s footsteps.

Sighing again, you switched off the lamp and lay back down and wrapped yourself in your duvet, praying that slumber would finally overcome you.

***

“Why do you want there to be a vigilante to catch? Take a break, hoss.”

You shot up at the sound of voices. Shit. You clambered out of your makeshift bed, quickly making up the bed that Oliver sometimes slept on.

No one knew you stayed here. And you sure as hell weren’t going to be the one to tell them. You darted to the bathroom, brushed your teeth and put your hair in a bun. Then you grabbed your clothes and rapidly changed into jeans and a top.

At the sound of footsteps, you ran to the shelf and acted as if you were looking through them.

“Y/N?”

You turned to face the duo and saw Dinah and Rene standing behind you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I lost my Torts book and thought I left it here. Guess I didn’t. Well, I’ll see you guys soon. Got a lecture to catch.” You said quickly, walking past them before they could say anything.

Dinah looked over her shoulder and saw the duvet on the bed was slightly rustled and she then looked back at the door you had just walked out of. She sighed and shook her head. Not again.

***

“See you tomorrow, Beth.”

“You too, y/n.”

You waved goodbye to your study partner and stepped outside. Barely containing your surprise, you greeted the familiar face standing in front of you.

“Dinah? What are you doing here?”

“I wasn’t doing anything so I figured I’d pick you up.”

“Oh okay.” You said, warily. You both walked to her car but when you got inside, she turned to face you.

“What?” You said, when she continued to stare.

“Are you okay, y/n?”

“I’m sorry?” You blinked, the question having came out of nowhere.

“I know you sleep at the bunker, y/n. No one else does though.” She added when she saw the colour drain from your face.

“Why? I thought you were staying at your dorm.” She continued.

“I was. I am. I just-I just need a break sometimes.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” She asked, her hand resting on your arm.

“What isn’t wrong, Dinah?” You said softly, as if accepting what your life had become. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Please.”

She rubbed your arm softly before gently nodding and starting the car.

“Whatever you need.”

***

After your brief conversation with Dinah, she had become a lot more involved in your life. She began taking you to and from each lecture. She often took you out for a Big Belly Burger after a difficult exam and you found yourself constantly studying in her office as she completed her paper work.

It was kind of nice actually.

It was as if you had another big sister again.

“Hey, Baby Lance.”

Your head lifted as you playfully rolled your eyes. You had grown to love the nickname but still loved teasing Dinah.

“I’m almost finished. I’m taking the rest of the night off. I was wondering if you wanna come back to mine and we can order some Chinese or something?”

Dropping your pen in your book, you laughed, “I’d thought you’d never ask.”

When you got back to Dinah’s, you decided to watch Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom. Takeaway boxes and bags of popcorn filled the table, blankets covering you and Dinah as you snuggled into her arms.

Picking up the remote, she paused the film and turned to stare at you, similar to how she had done in her car all those months ago.

“I’ve got something to ask you. You don’t have to answer now but I just couldn’t wait to ask you.”

“What is it, Dee?”

“Do you want to move in with me? I have a spare bedroom and I know you’re still staying at the bunker which is fine but I was wondering if you wanted to stay with me instead.” She rambled before you stopped her with a hug.

“Of course I would!” You could practically feel her relief as she tightly hugged you back.

“And you’re sure it’ll be okay?” You asked, head resting against her chest.

“Are you kidding me? I miss you whenever you’re not here. And I’d rather you stay with me than at the bunker. I hate when you’re alone.” She said when she pulled away to look at you.

“Thank you.”

Dinah wiped away a tear you didn’t even know had fallen and gathered you back in her arms, pressing play on the remote.

***

“I’m scared.”

You whispered, your voice wavering.

You glanced up at Dinah, her arm around your shoulders.

You were both currently standing in the waverider with Iris, Superman, Cisco, Mia and a few other heroes. Pariah had used his powers to make your sister, Sara, vanish alongside the other 6 paragons, leaving the rest of you alone on the time travelling ship.

Lyla, who was being controlled by the Anti-Monitor had just murdered the Monitor and you watched in horror as Earth 1, your home, was destroyed. Vanished in mere seconds. And now the anti-matter wave was heading directly for you.

You watched as Lyla disintegrated along with part of the ship. You then saw Iris vanish alongside the other heroes, leaving you and Dinah for last.

“I love you, Dinah. Thank you for being my sister.”

“I love you too. I’ll be with you no matter what.”

You felt yourself slipping away until you were engulfed in darkness. Gone. But not alone.

***

Loved.

Always.

Forever.

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cathygeha · 4 years

Photo

-REVIEW

Temporary Wife Temptation by Jayci Lee

Heirs of Hansol Series #1

Arranged marriages...would YOU want one? I wouldn’t…

Marriages of Convenience...would You want one? I don’t think so

So…

Why would two attractive people in this modern age opt to move into a situation that would put them together 24/7 and create havoc with their hormones KNOWING that they should not succumb to one another even though both feel the chemistry?

AND then…

Throw in a bit of

*cultural information

* a hunky and wealthy Korean American super-handsome male thinking he has life his life all planned out only to find out that his grandmother has another plan in place for him...one he is not willing to go along with

* a woman working in the family business that might help him out while he helps her out by providing a partner that will increase her likelihood of adopting the daughter of her deceased sister

* a hanbok (that REALLY caught my attention because my sister told me all about wearing one to her son’s marriage and how it fit and felt and all the rest)

* how one deals with the person one wants but can’t have...according to the contract for the marriage of convenience

* information on how to deal with in laws in a culture you did not grow up with

* a baby that more than one couple wants

* avoiding falling in love...or not

This book was not what I thought it would be but am glad that I read it and in reading it learned a bit, laughed a bit and enjoyed the reading while wanting to find out what will happen next in this series.

Thank you to NetGalley and Harlequin-Desire for the ARC ~ This is my honest review

3-4 Stars

BLURB

Much more than he bargained for… “You want me to find you a wife?” “No. I want you to be my wife.”

Garrett Song is this close to taking the reins of his family’s LA fashion empire…until the Song matriarch insists he marry her handpicked bride first. To block her matchmaking, he recruits Natalie Sobol to pose as his wife. She needs a fake spouse as badly as he does. But when passion burns down their chaste agreement, the flames could destroy them all…

EXCERPT:

Garrett resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder to check on her. Natalie was a grown woman and he didn’t need to protect her from being swarmed by admirers. Besides, she was the one who had proposed they refrain from other relationships, so she wouldn’t do anything to hurt his reputation or hers.

Earlier, at her apartment, he’d caught fire at the sight of her in her little black dress. It was demure compared to the one she’d worn at Le Rêve, but it hugged her hourglass figure and highlighted the curves underneath just enough to tease his imagination.

He walked to the bar for his Scotch and grabbed a flute of champagne from a server on his way back. As he’d anticipated, Natalie was now surrounded by a group of men and he lengthened his strides to reach her.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, sweetheart.” He pressed a light kiss on her lips and handed her the champagne.

“Thank you.” She leaned her head against his shoulder when he pulled her to his side, playing her part like a pro.

“Natalie was just taking us to task about USC’s new head coach. It seems neither he nor I truly understand college football,” said one of Mike’s college friends.

“Is that so?” Garrett raised an eyebrow at her and she shrugged.

“Taking you to task is a bit harsh.” She hid her grin against the rim of her champagne flute as she took a long sip. “It’s just that I have a better understanding than you guys.”

The audience winced and guffawed at her cheekiness. As Natalie continued with her lecture, all the men listened intently, as did Garrett. She was funny and down-to-earth, and her mind was quicker than lightning. Lost in her words, Garrett belatedly noticed the crowd had grown. Her champagne glass was depleted and her smile was becoming strained.

He leaned down close to her ear. “Tired?”

“And hungry.”

“All right, gentlemen. I’m whisking away my date now. I’m tired of sharing her.”

When the crowd finally dispersed, Natalie slumped against him with a groan. “I need food, champagne and somewhere to sit.”

A server walked over with a tray of bacon-wrapped shrimp and Natalie snatched a couple of them. She popped one in her mouth and mumbled around her food, “Not necessarily in that order.”

Garrett laughed and guided her toward the French doors leading out to the garden. Natalie ate every single hors d’oeuvre she met along the way and finished another glass of champagne.

“Holy cow. Is everything really, really delicious, or am I just famished? I would totally go back for that crab cake if my feet weren’t screaming at me to get my butt on a chair.”

He glanced down at her zebra-print high heels. They did amazing things for her legs but didn’t look remotely comfortable. “There’s a bench around the corner.”

“Oh, thank God.” She kicked off her shoes as soon as she plopped onto the seat.

Garrett shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders before sitting next to her.

“Thank you,” she murmured, gazing at the garden. “It’s so beautiful out here.”

“Is it?” He and Mike had grown up tearing apart that very garden, but Garrett had never sat still and taken it all in, like they were doing now. “I guess you’re right.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

He studied her profile, her high, regal cheekbone and the graceful curve of her neck. Half of her hair had escaped the loose knot behind her head and fell down her back and shoulders. He wanted to sweep aside her hair and feel the softness of her skin, which he absolutely should not do.

“So how do you know so much about college football?” He tore his gaze away from her and stared at an old maple tree ahead of him, hard enough to make his eyes water.

“Long story.”

“We’ve got time.” He made a show of checking his watch. “I’ll give you ten minutes.”

Her laughter filled the garden, then ended on a wistful sigh. “My dad and I, we weren’t very close. The only time he didn’t mind my company was when we watched college football together. He was a huge fan. I don’t think he even noticed I was sitting there half the time.”

Garrett understood what that felt like. As soon as he finished graduate school, he’d thrown himself into his work. It was satisfying in its predictability and it created a common ground for him and his father. His dad had stepped down from the CEO position when his mom died, but returned to Hansol a few years later as an executive VP.

“I thought if I learned enough about the sport, he’d like me a little better.” Her shrug told him it hadn’t worked, but Natalie told her story without an ounce of self-pity—like she owned her past, hurt and all. His respect for her deepened. “But soon I noticed I wasn’t faking my enthusiasm anymore. I’d grown to love the sport. Who knew it’d come in handy at an intimate birthday party for a hundred people?”

“You certainly won over quite a few of them.”

“I did?” Her eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise.

He huffed out a laugh. “Why did you think that crowd was hanging on to your every word?”

“Watch yourself, Garrett Song.” Natalie narrowed her eyes and pointed a finger at him. “I know where you live.”

He snatched her hand and tugged her to her feet. “Yes, and you’ll be living there with me starting Sunday.”

“Ugh.” She hooked an index finger in each of her shoes, not bothering to put them back on. “Do you ever stop thinking about work?”

“Yes.” He cocked his head and pretended to consider her question. “But only when I’m thoroughly distracted.”

Her lashes fluttered and color saturated her cheeks, and his gut clenched with heat. She could definitely become his most dangerous distraction.

AUTHOR BIO

About the author JAYCI LEE: Jayci Lee writes poignant, funny, and sexy romance. She lives in sunny California with her tall-dark-and-handsome husband, two amazing boys with boundless energy, and a fluffy rescue whose cuteness is a major distraction. She is semi-retired from her 15-year career as a defense litigator, and writes full-time now. She loves food, wine, and travelling, just like her characters. Books have always helped her grow, dream, and heal. She hopes her books will do the same for you.

#Jayci Lee #Harlequine #HQN #HQN-DESIRE #Romance #NetGalley #Hansol Series 1 #contemporary romance #Cross-cultural interest

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crinkled-emotions · 5 years

Text

Sam Winchester Bingo

Today, I bring you my first work in an attempt to complete the @samwinchesterbingo premade card 13. If you want to do this too, I have a link for you to follow! Check out the bottom of this work :)

Square Filled: Asexual

Sam was sixteen when he finally stayed in one place long enough to make friends and get invited to a party where there were people his age turning up instead of dead people or poltergeists- he still had nightmares about the last one he attended with dad and Dean.

Dean dropped him off, slapping a condom into Sam’s chest right before he got out of the car. Dean knew his brother hadn’t lost his v-card, and sometimes he liked to egg him on a little. Surely under those puppy-dog eyes there was a sex demon, right? Dean grimaced at that thought- he really ought to stop making sex jokes about his brother… and actually; he should stop talking about demons too. They really gave him the creeps sometimes.

Five minutes into the party and Sam had already lost the people who had invited him. He grabbed a cup of beer- something he could stomach well since living with Dean and dad meant a lot of beer- then headed for the back door to the decking, dodging people with a quick, polite smile that everyone seemed to be charmed by. When he got there he rested against the railing, just enjoying the moment. His eyes closed, but even then he could still hear the heavy bass in Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit playing in the background. It nearly shook the whole house and he was not up for that- not after all of the things he’d seen that started with a house shaking.

“Not your scene?”

A girl with flowing dark hair approached him and Sam blushed, nodding quietly after a minute. She smiled, joining him at the railing. She seemed to be drinking a vodka and coke, and when she caught Sam looking she just offered the cup.

“Try it.”

“Oh, no, I-“

“-try it! You’ll like it, I promise.”

She held the cup out to him and he accepted after a moment, tipping back the red solo cup. When he swallowed he grimaced at the taste of the vodka, but relaxed when the familiar taste of coke rushed it down.

“Okay, yeah. Yeah, you may have a point.”

“That’s what I thought. I’m Elliot.”

She extended her hand and Sam shook it, trying hard not to blush again. He was a naturally blushy person, leave him alone.

“S-Sam. I’m Sam.”

“You want to get out of here Sam, maybe get to know each other a little better?”

He put his beer down, not even noticing his hands were shaking. She didn’t seem to notice either, and gestured to the front door.

“My car’s just down the road a bit.”

The night didn’t end like Sam thought it would- he thought he’d be going home as someone no longer labelled as a virgin, but instead he found himself hanging out of the car vomiting so hard someone took his phone and called Dean to come and get him. They had to leave the town the next morning Sam was so ashamed, not even willing to go and get his things from his locker as the story had already spread.

Dean would never let him hear the end of it.

Years later Dean took Sam to a bar for his twenty-first, an attempt at brotherly bonding after Sam had left for school. They sat down and Dean ordered two shots of tequila, gesturing behind his brother.

“Hey, I think someone’s trying to hit you up already. Damn Sammy, proud of you.”

“What are you talking about, Dean?”

Sam huffed, about to launch into a lecture when he felt an unfamiliar hand on his shoulder. He froze, but Dean seemed relaxed. Dean surveyed the room and seemed to spot something, getting up.

“Gonna go and water the cactus. Be safe, Sammy.”

He disappeared, Sam about to ask what he meant when an attractive man slid into Dean’s seat in front of him. He had gorgeous blue eyes, tanned skin that seemed flawless, and a pearly white smile that Sam felt he could stare at forever.

“Sammy? That your name?”

The guy was talking to him. Sam cleared his throat, blushing as he threw Dean’s shot back. This handsome stranger watched him, and Sam decided to just be nice.

“No, actually. My brother’s just a jerk. It’s Sam, just Sam.”

“Nice to meet you Just Sam, I’m Daniel.”

They shook hands and Daniel gestured to the waiter, nodding his head.

“Two beers, please. Put it on my tab.”

He turned back to Sam, smiling slightly.

“Sorry, I didn’t even think. Did you want a beer?”

“Yeah, yeah sure. Sounds good.”

The bartender handed them the beers and they each took a gulp, Daniel nodding at Sam’s wrist where there was a huge scar.

“That’s a nice scar. How’d you get it?”

“Oh, I, uhm… I got it a few years ago, I was at work.”

Not a complete lie. Not completely.

“Right. What are you, a builder?”

“A law student,” Sam blurted, and Daniel raised an eyebrow.

“But you were at work when you got the scar?”

“Well, yeah. Law doesn’t come cheap, y’know.”

Daniel chuckled, nodding.

“Fair enough.”

The two spent a while chatting and drinking, to the point that the bar began to shut down and Dean swung out the door with a girl on his arm, waving at Sam as he went. Sam flipped him off as Daniel paid the bill before meeting his eyes.

“Look. I’ve been trying really hard to flirt with you for the last few hours but you’re completely oblivious so I’m just going to ask; do you want to come back to mine tonight?”

Sam felt his heart leap into his throat, and he swallowed. His head span, and he could feel a panic attack starting if he didn’t get out of the situation.

“Oh, uh, I-“

“-you okay? Sam?”

“Dean, I need Dean.”

“So you froze up?”

“Yes, Dean. That’s what I’ve been saying for the last twenty minutes.”

“No need to give me attitude, man. I’m just trying to figure it out.”

Dean stood from his spot on a motel room chair, Sam sitting on the end of the bed. Sam was looking at his hands in his lap in guilt, while Dean began to pace.

“So what- you’re not into guys? No big deal.”

“Dean, I don’t think I’m into girls either.”

“Then what the fuck are you into?”

“Nothing.”

Dean sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“C’mon, I’ll drop you back off at school. You need some sleep.”

Fast forward another year and Jessica is practically living with Sam, but they haven’t done anything even remotely… sexual. Hell, it took Jess three weeks to get Sam to kiss her back- she hated having to initiate every single move, but Sam didn’t. He liked to cuddle though, he liked to spoon, but sometimes he got overwhelmed and would roll away.

About six months into their relationship and Jess found him on his computer, looking at something. She approached him, kissing his cheek as she brushed a hand through his hair. He slammed his laptop down, and she grew suspicious.

“Sam? What’s up?”

“O-oh, n-nothing, just… looking into presents. I don’t want to spoil it just yet.”

“Oh, okay.”

Jess disappeared into Sam’s bedroom after that, and Sam heaved a sigh of relief. He didn’t want his girlfriend to know he’d been researching what little there was on asexuality.

That night she lay on his chest, tracing the muscles over his shirt. Her shorts slid up a little revealing the lace underwear she had on, and she looked up at Sam to see if he would have any reaction. He didn’t, and she frowned. Jess sat up, Sam following when she turned on the lamp.

“Sam, I think we should talk. About this, about us.”

“Sure…?”

He pulled the sheets over his long legs, Jess coming over to sit in his lap. His hands awkwardly held her hips, and she frowned.

“Sam, you’re just… I love you, and I love how you like to cuddle me and kiss me, but you’ve never… we’ve never…”

She trailed off, biting her lip and Sam felt like he could barf. He didn’t think he’d be talking about that already.

“Jess, I-“

“-am I not pretty enough, is that the problem?”

Jess’s eyes were welling with tears and Sam immediately used his thumb to wipe them away, brushing a hand through her hair. He shook his head, sniffing.

“The problem- it’s not you, not at all. It’s actually me, I don’t- I haven’t been interested in-“

“-you’ve never had sex?!”

Jess’s eyes widened with shock and Sam blushed, but slowly nodded. Jess sighed; it was her turn to comfort now.

“Sam, I don’t care if you’ve never done it before. I love you, and I want to be close with you.”

“I’ve tried everything,” he whispered, and she felt a tear drip on to her thigh. She reached for Sam, holding his head to her shoulder.

“Tell me everything Sam, I want to know.”

So it all came out; from when Sam was sixteen and got so nervous he puked, to now, when even his naked girlfriend couldn’t get him going. He felt nothing but friendship toward a lot of people, but it was stronger with Jessica. He felt something different toward her, but he still couldn’t see himself with her in a sexual nature. He told her everything, until he was crying into her chest. Jess sighed, brushing a hand through his hair.

“Let’s start small, okay Sammy? We can start somewhere you’re comfortable with. For now, you need sleep and I need to know my boyfriend’s okay.”

“Only Dean calls me Sammy,” Sam murmured as he lay down, Jess curling up on top of him like she usually did, intertwining their legs for good measure. She lay a kiss on his cheek, smiling.

“Well now I do too, Dean can kiss my ass.”

Jess was dead. Sam didn’t feel anything for anyone anymore. He loved his brother and he loved his dad, but they were in a different way. They were in a familial sense, while Jess… she had finally helped him open up. She’d been the one to understand what was going on, the one to make her way through his walls until she got him to experience his first orgasm. It was quite the journey, and she had almost cried at how proud she was as he panted, his hand covered in- heh. Leaving that right there.

Now it was just Sam and Dean- Jess had been brutally murdered by the demon and Sam was on the prime suspect list as a culprit. Dean had come just in time to rescue him, take him out of the dorm and get him downstairs. When they got to the Impala Sam curled up on the passenger seat and burst into tears, Dean had no method of comforting him so he let Sam cry and be sad, until they got to the border of California where he pulled up, tugging Sam into his arms.

“C’mere Sammy.”

And Sam had cried harder into Dean’s jacket, begging for Jess back, begging and crying until he passed out mid sob. Dean had laid him back in his seat and buckled him in, heading for the road.

Time to go find dad.

Sam hadn’t had time to get laid recently, nor had he been even slightly interested in it, but Dean wanted to chat up some ladies so here the brothers were, chatting up ladies in the back of a nightclub. Sam was sitting back uncomfortably while Dean regaled made up stories. The couple of women around them laughed, until Dean saw Sam making an escape toward the men’s room. Dean stood, placing a kiss on one of the girls’ cheeks, whispering call me in her ear before going after his brother.

Sam was sitting on the grungy floor beside the basin, head in his hands. Dean joined him and brushed a hand through his brother’s hair, watching him for a moment.

“Sam, is there something you want to tell me?”

“I- oh god, I need to stop crying.”

Sam wiped his eyes, lifting his head. His nose was tinted red, his eyes the same and it was pretty obvious he’d been crying. Dean pulled a couple sheets of paper towel down, handing them to his little brother.

“Here. Try calm down, then talk.”

A good five minutes passed, and then Sam rested his head on his brother’s shoulder.

“I’m asexual.”

“I thought so.”

“Even being with Jess, I was so uncomfortable. I loved her but the sex- I had no interest. I’m not normal, Dean.”

“You’re a Winchester; we’re never normal, it’s in our blood.”

The boys both chuckled, Dean running a hand over his own beard.

“But if I were you, I would have told me sooner. We could go catch a movie if you want, one with no sex scenes but lots of laughing?”

Sam looked up at Dean, eyes wide.

“You- you’d do that for me?”

“Yes, Sam. As long as you never cockblock me again.”

Sam blushed and Dean punched his shoulder playfully, chuckling.

“Kidding. You can cockblock me whenever you want, I’ll just go back to putting Nair in your shampoo.”

“Fuck you, Dean.”

“But seriously, Sam.”

Dean ruffled his brother’s hair, smiling.

“I’m really proud of you for coming to terms with who you are. It’s a big deal and I think it’s awesome that you felt you could tell me.”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re the only one I tell anything to.”

Okay, that one made Dean tear up.

The Card I’m working on (scroll to number 13!)

The Account I got my card from

My AO3 (this is posted there too if the formatting looks weird)

#sam winchester #Sam Winchester Bingo #Square filled: Asexual

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nny11writes · 6 years

Text

Let’s Try This Again- Chapter 11

<-Previous

Anakin woke slowly, groggily blinking his eyes and hissing as pain lanced through his head.

“Ani!” Ahsoka screamed in his face, from way, way too close.

“Ow! Shh!” Anakin begged, flinching as she jammed her face up into his. He struggled to figure out what was happening. “My head hurts.”

Ahsoka ducked down, darting in to give him a quick hug before she reached out for something. It looked like a remote. Oh, wait, Halls of Healing? Right. Wait.

“Why are we in the Halls of Healing?” He asked, squinting as she curved in towards herself.

Ahsoka spoke softly towards her boots, her voice stilted as she took her time to clearly choose the words she wanted. “‘m-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you hurt. Do you remember what happened?”

“Uh,” Anakin wracked his brain, he could almost feel where the memories were supposed to slot into place. And the gaping emptiness where they weren’t. “We were...we were cleaning up and Obi-Wan tricked us into bed.”

There was a pause as Anakin realized he was waiting for a rush of anger to follow that, but none came. He half stated, half asked, “I was... upset about that.”

Ahsoka looked at him critically, and for the first time in a while he remembered she was a Jedi Knight. Her gaze was piercing and his skin crawled as she gently manipulated the Force around them. It made him shrink a bit.

“I don’t like making people do stuff.” he said meekly, picking at his robes. “Did...did I fight it?”

“No,” Ahsoka looked over her shoulder briefly, as if worried about someone listening in. “You thought it was funny and you laughed at me because I did fight it- a little bit.”

Anakin frowned, his stomach dropping slightly. No, that didn’t sound right did it? He would have helped her. “I wouldn’t think it was funny, it’s not...I don’t like it.”

“When did you start, hmm, disliking Force suggestions?” She had one arm tucked under the other, crossed loosely across her chest. Head tilted in curiosity. There was something important to questions but he wasn’t sure what.

Stars his head hurt,. “I dunno, for a while? Did you call a healer, my head is killing me!”

Ahsoka picked up the remote and pressed the button.

The one he assumed she’d already hit.

Chills shot down from his head, shivering, pulsing little electrical veins filling with ice. Something was really, really wrong. Something about him. He swallowed roughly and asked,“What’s wrong?”

Ahsoka smiled so sadly at him that she might as well have slapped him. “I kriffed up.”

“Language!” He snapped, his mind latching onto the easiest thing it could, right as one of the healer’s got there.

“Welcome back Padawan Skywalker. Initiate Tano, I must ask that you remain calm and not antagonize my patient or you will need to leave.” The young man quickly checked a few read outs before sitting on the edge of Anakin’s bed. “How are you feeling Padawan?”

“I have a headache...and I’m cold.” Anakin grumbled before looking back over at Ahsoka. He wished the healer wasn’t here so he could find out where Ahsoka had learned that kind of language, and then lecture her about it. That’s not why you want him gone.

But he didn’t leave, instead the healer asked more questions, drew blood, and generally was a nuisance. Ahsoka hopped off the bed and tapped something out on her com unit, standing quietly off to the side and refusing to make eye contact. His heart kicked, but Anakin managed to keep his mouth shut and wait. This check up was taking forever. He perked up when Master Obi-Wan arrived, but he only smiled wanly before sitting down in one of the visitors chairs and made no move to save him.

Anakin sent a small wave of annoyance down their bond, and jerked when it felt brittle. Like he’d taken a step out on a crumbling bridge. That wasn’t right. Their bond was strong! This wasn’t right! Anakin looked at him wide eyed, “Master?”

“It’s alright Anakin,” Obi-Wan said softly, “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but we’re alright and we can fix the damage.”

The damage-Anakin switched, grasping at his bond with Ahsoka to find it holding on by the thinnest threads of spider silk. He slammed back into himself, one wrong move would snap their bond like a twig. Anakin hadn’t noticed how quiet it was in his head, it was so quiet and lonely without them there. He didn’t want it to be like before-yes he did! Anakin wanted...he wanted them back.

The healer finally finished, he said something about Anakin being in good health, before nodding at them and giving his Master a pointed look as he left.

Anakin had barely opened his mouth to ask any one of the questions buzzing around his mind, when Ahsoka leapt back onto his bed and snuggled back into his side. Obi-Wan watched them with a sort of resigned tiredness before standing up and sitting on the edge of his bed. His master looked at him carefully before asking, “You don’t remember then?”

Anakin looked down at Ahsoka’s head, as if the right answer was written between her montrals. “...no?”

“There was...an incident. Our proximity and bonds with Ahsoka drew us into a situation we should not have been in. We interfered and accidentally let a Sith into her mind.” Obi-Wan paused watching for some sort of reaction.

Anakin’s chest felt tight, and he knew, he knew this was what they thought he needed to know. Anxiety flared up as he considered why. Obi-Wan wouldn’t let a Sith in, but Anakin knew he could be rash. He’d done something, it hurt Ahsoka, it hurt their bonds, and now...His emotions felt like a stone finally settling in a boiling pot of water. The Jedi were going to throw him out, because he wasn’t special, and he had hurt a child. And they wouldn’t make excuses for him anymore.

“We knew the Sith.” Obi-Wan prompted, but when Anakin just numbly stared back he continued, “Anakin...the Sith is Chancellor Palpatine, and he-do you remember when Mace spoke with you?”

It felt like he should be more emotional about that. Despite the way his mind flicked through options and reasons for his dismissal, Anakin found it easy enough to still follow along with Obi-Wan. So he was an accessory to, what, Sith-dom? He was too close to the source then. Palpatine was-had been his friend. There was a small curl of anger in him at that. Friends didn’t lie like that to each other, they didn’t hurt one another. Anakin had known he was still a tool to many people, he’d just thought Palpatine wasn’t one of them.

He didn’t know what the Jedi would do with a Sith. He didn’t understand the politics of the Republic still. Anakin just hoped that it would be done quickly. He shifted uncomfortably as he waited for the anger or the betrayal to really kick into gear.

“No.” Anakin said, shaking his head slightly.

“There were, compulsions he left in you. Not many, luckily, none too deep. Removing them was delicate work and caused a bit of damage, hence the bonds. Do you understand?” Obi-Wan asked, one hand resting gently over Anakin’s.

Oh, that answered so many questions then. Anakin really was an accessory to Sithness. Compulsions, they’d gone over those in class. They were, in essence, a long con by Force users to make others bend to their commands. Those being controlled rarely knew it was happening. Anakin was lucky that they’d been found and successfully removed without hurting him, he knew that.

He didn’t feel lucky.

“Yes,” he mumbled, his whole body was pins and needles. “How long do I have?”

“How lo-no, no! You’re fine! Anakin, you’re going to be fine!” Obi-Wan twisted, pulling one leg up on the bed to turn and face him. His knee pressed awkwardly into Anakin’s hip and his hand gripped tighter.

Anakin rolled his eyes, “I got that, I mean how long do I have here?”

Obi-Wan looked over towards Ahsoka, like he was looking for guidance and it just made Anakin bristle. Yeah, he’d gotten that far too. They would continue on and just cut out the middleman. Anakin wanted to push her away, snap at her for chewing on his tunics, but he was just too tired. He couldn’t even put up a fight against his own fate. It was pathetic.

“A few hours for observation, then we can leave.” Obi-Wan spoke slowly.

“You don’t have to be obtuse Mast-just…” Anakin sighed. “When am I supposed to leave the Temple then? Is there paperwork- what am I saying, there’s always paperwork! Something to release the Order from responsibility at least.”

Ahsoka jerked back and stared at him with wild eyes, then sniffed and starting crying. Softly hissing at him, “Anakin you-you are so drama-you’re so stupid! Stop it!”

Obi-Wan looked gobsmacked. He shook himself, physically shook his body before shifting to lie on the bed next to Anakin. A split second later he was enveloped in a hug. “You are my Padawan Anakin, you’re my little brother and a Jedi. This, this is not your fault.”

Why would he say that? Unless it was true. It felt true. Anakin wanted it to be...he reached out into the Force and gasped.

The veil lifted with one last growl, and Anakin shook. “Oh. So I’m not…?”

“No, of course not,” Obi-Wan whispered into his hair. “Never.”

Anakin knew he should feel smothered between them. With Ahsoka clinging and crying on one side, and Obi-Wan holding him on the other. Hot tears on his neck and warm breath in his hair. Anakin shivered, frowning at his own waiting expectancy. Why would he feel smothered? He loved them, and they loved him. They still wanted him and he wanted them. Anakin weakly grasped for their hands.

“Why do I feel so strange?” He whispered, turning to look up at his Master’s face. His Master and...his brother.

Obi-Wan smiled, but his eyes watered. “Sith compulsions subtly change the way you think. After a few years of having them, you may be...expecting them to guide you. Or at least that is the best guess we have after consulting a few experts in the field.”

Something had been controlling him for years. His friend had. He’d been used. Anakin scrunched his nose up as his heart began to pound. Like all the other strong emotions it still felt weirdly like he was standing on an invisible ledge, just waiting to fall off it. He should be outraged. He whispered roughly, “I don’t like it.”

“No, I’d assume not.”

Ahsoka had finally trailed off into small hiccuping bursts, one arm wiping at her nose ineffectually as she pulled her control back. It struck him that he wasn’t annoyed by it at all, that she wasn’t “ruining” his tunic. Clothes were just, well, clothes. They could be washed or replaced here at the temple. What was even the point of making him annoyed at something like that?

“Meditation.” Ahsoka miserably huffed, glaring at the shining little trails on her sleeve.

Anakin grinned a little bit at the sight, especially when his mind brought up the armored woman doing the same. He could hardly equate the two right now, but the glare was probably the same. “What for?”

Ahsoka said, “You! For, for decoup-UGH-undoing the, hmp! Stupid!”

His good humor died up at the look of absolute frustration she shot at his belt. Anakin gently nudged her with his elbow. “Hey, take your time.”

“It’s for-” Obi-Wan started, and Anakin glared to cut him off. She wasn’t ever going to learn if Master Obi-Wan kept speaking for her!

“To uncouple your physical reaction and mental...conditioning. You gotta meditate to, mmmmm, stop it? Learn to stop it. You’re gonna learn it ok.” Ahsoka finally looked back up at him. “You’re gonna be ok?”

He wanted to say that of course he would be ok. That there was no reason for him not to be. He wanted to insist it would be fine. Anakin bit his tongue and wondered if he really meant it or if some left over hoodoo meant it for him. He closed his eyes, turning inwards gingerly to avoid even so much as bumping the bonds. His mother’s words were always there for him. Look in your heart Ani. What does it tell you?

“I think so. I hope so.” Anakin shrugged, suddenly restless. “I can’t just give up...but what happens now?”

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka looked at one another seriously, before turning back to him. “The Council is working on that Anakin, we can’t just arrest him without causing trouble for the Order. He is the Chancellor of the Republic after all.”

“So we can’t make the first move,” Anakin grumbled, rolling his eyes. “So who can?”

“It’s part of what we’re-”

“I’m so stupid,” Ahsoka whispered, eyes wide as she looked at them.

Anakin bristled on her behalf, snapping, “Hey! What did I say about poodoo thinking?”

“Shut up Anakin!” Ahsoka ignored his bewildered stare in favor of looking at Obi-Wan. “Padme.”

Obi-Wan blinked rapidly, as if rolling the idea in his head. “Queen Amidala? What could...she could request Jedi investigation and with who we’d be investigating-”

“No Senate.”

Anakin wiggled a little to free himself from Obi-Wan’s grip, sitting up slowly and delighted that the pain killers were finally working. He took back most of his uncharitable thoughts towards the healers. “So he can’t know in advance.”

“Yes but how do we contact her without tipping our hand?” Obi-Wan gently stroked his mustache, clearly too caught up in whatever details he could see to take the easy path.

Anakin took pity on him. “Uhm, I’ve just been seriously injured and could use some time to recover. On a peaceful planet with a lot less, you know, activity in the Force? Maybe somewhere in the Chandrilla sector?”

“You could call and tell her. ‘Cause you’re friends.” Ahsoka added almost smugly.

“She switches out and we’re clear to talk.” Anakin added, grateful to shake off the weird not quite feeling feelings. Something to focus on other than his turning emotions, and apparently meditation.

“Gets Ani away too.” Ahsoka added.

Anakin’s head tilted before he flushed with-with shame? It felt like anger, but he knew the bite of shame anywhere. It was a good point. He still hated it.

“Alright, what about you?” Obi-Wan asked, now sitting back up straight and proper. As if he hadn’t been on the verge of tears a few minutes prior. Anakin envied him that ability. “We don’t have a reason to take you with us, but surely we can’t leave you here now that he’s aware.”

Ahsoka motioned towards her head and frowned, “Dunno. Master Mace isn’t done.”

Anakin blinked rapidly as he tried to swallow that one. He’d been doing better with Master Windu since Ahsoka’s arrival, but he wasn’t sure what to make of someone referring to the Head of the Order with such familiarity. First names were more of an apprenticeship thing, and the thought made Anakin jolt slightly. He clenched his jaw and shook his head when she looked at him curiously, it wasn’t even his jealousy.

Anakin finally gave in a little when he could feel Ahsoka attempting to reach him over their bond. It cause a small thrill of panic to race through him, and unwilling to let it be damaged he muttered, “I really hate this.”

She gave him a strained smile but didn’t push.

“Wait,” he said, brain finally catching up to what she’d actually said, “what do you mean Master Windu isn’t done?”

“There was some damages left behind after-”

“Master, you need to let her speak!” Anakin huffed.

Obi-Wan looked both sheepish and churlish. “I was just trying to help.”

“Ok, thanks, please don’t?” Anakin grumbled and looked at Ahsoka.

She grinned back at him, in what was far too evil of a manner for a child, before saying, “I don’t mind!”

“I appreciate that, but Anakin is right.” Master Obi-Wan conceded with just a hint of a stern look.

“Ok,” Ahsoka said with a shrug, “there was some damages left behind.”

When Obi-Wan snorted, Anakin buried his face in his hands. “This is serious!?”

Ahsoka pouted, “ ‘m always serious!”

“The point,” Obi-Wan cut in, “is that they are shoring up her shields.”

The idea that Ahsoka’s shields, Ahsoka’s shields, were somehow damaged so badly as to need repair from Master Windu was unfathomable. It was like trying to understand the sheer size of something without a comparison point. Had it been that bad? Anakin tried to remember, desperately reaching for those empty spots searching for the memories that wouldn’t come. He’d accidentally let a Sith into her mind, but he hadn’t really considered what that could mean. Anakin felt light headed as he thought about what must have happened for him to over power her shields. He just couldn’t wrap his mind around it. It was like hearing that he’d created a black hole, or cracked a planet in half.

“How did I do that?” Anakin whispered.

“You didn’t, he did.” Ahsoka shrugged, eyes nervously flitting away from him and hunching in on herself.

Anakin didn’t know what to think about that.

“What if Master Plo came with us?” Obi-Wan asked, either unaware of their feelings or brushing past them. “He could still work with you and us, as we all have bonds to repair. Surely that is reason enough for you to come while still addressing your issue?”

Ahsoka tried to answer when Master Yoda tapped on the door frame with his gimer stick.

Anakin rapidly blinked as if it would make the intrusion any less invasive or sudden.

“Excuse my interruption, please,” Master Yoda looked at him with a gentle smile. “Good to see you awake again. How do you feel, hm?”

“Weird. Better? Uh, I think I need some more time.” Anakin flubbed his way through what felt like a simple answer and hoped his whole face hadn’t gone red.

“Yes, time will help. Yes. Good this change may be, difficult as well!” Master Yoda chuckled, before frowning. He cut right to the point. “Asking for you the Chancellor is.”

Anakin’s heart felt like it had exploded.

“We can’t possibly-”

“No!”

“Calm yourselves, calm. Peace. Explained that unwell you are. But, perhaps, best if we discuss your health.” Master Yoda gave them a significant look, eyes lingering just a hair longer than Anakin was comfortable with.

“We were,” Obi-Wan paused to clear his throat, “we were thinking that a meditative retreat would be best. Perhaps somewhere quiet that we are comfortable, with allies to the Order, and our anonymity would be respected. I was thinking a temperate world as well, maybe some water?”

Anakin was amazed he didn’t die from embarrassment. That wasn’t even subtle at all!

“A destination in mind, you have?”

“Yes, but perhaps it is best not to say specifically.” Obi-Wan smiled, “That said, I was thinking perhaps Master Plo and Ahsoka could use this time to rebuild their bond as well.”

Anakin looked at Ahsoka desperate for someone he could commiserate with, because there was few things more obnoxious than adults acting as if they were very clever, but Ahsoka was all smiles even as she rubbed at her puffy eyes. He caught himself before trying to broadcast his boredom to her. Anakin couldn’t wait until their bonds were repaired.

Master Yoda chuckled, “Yes, yes, a good suggestion! Call Master Plo I will. Then off with you!”

“Thank you Master, I can certainly tell you more about our plans when we return.” Master Obi-Wan said with a small bow.

“Plans?” Master Yoda said with a smirk, already halfway out of his room, “Plans for what? Recovery, you should focus on.”

Anakin flopped backwards in his bed and winced as his head throbbed. He hated that. No, he, well, Anakin hadn’t liked that. It felt like Master Yoda had dismissed them but clearly he hadn’t? He was just giving them leeway and himself some plausible deniability. So why did it bother him so much? Anakin frowned at the ceiling and hated the way his lower lip trembled as the brunt of his confusion washed over him. He closed his eyes, and began to concentrate on his breathing.

Ahsoka’s meditation suggestion looked better and better as he breathed through the waves, drifting along the currents of the Force. Finding his own emotions slowly but surely with his Master and Padawan by his side.

#fanfiction #fanfic #LTTA #Anakin Skywalker #Ahsoka Tano #Obi-Wan Kenobi #clean up on ALL THE AISLES #TFW your not sure what's your own thought process and what's the influence of an evil old man #Palpatine meanwhile is all Shoot how literal was that? Do they know? Better check on my apprentice to make sure we're cool.#which uh it's gonna really be interesting when he's denied access #woof #poor Anakin deserves some hugs and ice cream #at least Obi-Wan admitted to being Anakin's brother before it's too late #I've decided to run to Padme even if my grasp of her tenure as Queen is pathetic and my ability to remember the timeline sucks #anyhow #not sure when the next chapter will come as I struggle with that #and the fallout of the attack #and the fallout of Ahsoka's busted shields #...how did this whole damned fic get so big and out of hand?????

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swanandapirate · 6 years

Text

anonymous swan (1/1)

It was @captainwiley’s birthday a couple of days ago and to celebrate the joyful day the world gained such a wonderful and crazy person, I’ve written a fic. This is inspired by how @captainwiley and @artandteaandstuff got introduced to each other but with our lovely ship instead (the road is a bit bumpier because have you met Emma and Killian?) ♥

summary: A Google Docs AU where Emma and Killian both get asked to beta-read something of David’s and start anonymously bickering about every conceivable grammatical and lexical and any other feature of the English language in the Google Docs Comment section but what happens after David decides to intervene?

Ohhh intrigueeee.

rating: T for some swearing

~10,000 words

ff.net / ao3

Major love to @ofshipsandswans for listening to me ramble ♥

(Let’s pretend that once Docs assigns you an animal it stays the same. Sorry for the mistakes, btw. Selina is not only amazing but also my beta)

She sat sunken in the soft leather couch, tucked in a corner with a blanket hiding everything from the neck down. Soft music sounded through the room, drifting to every nook chasing away the quiet, the eerie feeling that occasionally lingered in an empty apartment. Emma placed her palm on her face, fingers sliding into her hair as she tiredly rubbed her eyes. It wasn’t even nine yet, school hadn’t been particularly demanding as her early morning class got canceled and she got to sleep in, and still, exhaustion seemed to follow her every move and step. It didn’t help that the days were getting shorter, daylight becoming scarcer, any sign of warmth vanishing into clouds of air.

As tempting as it might be, she wasn’t going to go to bed at nine pm on a Friday. She just couldn’t. That was not an option. She was twenty-one, not seventy-one, for crying out loud. Though she did fit the description with her warm blanket, mug of hot chocolate with a dash of cinnamon, and an episode of that soap opera her best friend and roomie Mary Margaret insisted on recording and that Emma secretly watched when she was alone in their apartment.

Mary Margaret was out on a date with Emma’s brother David, who basically had become a second roommate to Emma. She didn’t mind, however. She loved her brother dearly, ever since they met in middle school, they’d been two peas in a pod and after David’s mom—their mom— decided to adopt Emma, their bond only became stronger. Mary Margaret was thrown into the mix when Emma befriended her in high school and when she introduced them, it was—according to her brother and Mary Margaret, Emma was more skeptical about it all— love at first sight.

It was best that she stayed up until they returned. Emma knew Mary Margaret: dimmed lights and a shut bedroom door would lead to a discussion because she was concerned about Emma’s welfare and social life and so on. And if there was anything Emma could live without, it was the concerned mom speech. She already got her fair share of those from her actual mom, she didn’t need them from her sister-in-law as well.

The lock of the door clicked as the key was turned and Emma hastily grabbed the remote control to stop the episode. She threw the blanket off her and grabbed one of her books. When David and Mary Margaret walked in, slightly giggly and drunk on some expensive Italian wine, she seemed less the spitting image of a socially deprived person and more of that of an intellectual seeking diversion. Not that they would notice anyway, so focused on each other.

“Hey Ems,” her brother greeted her, wide smile on his face.

Oh, he was drunk. He absolutely never called her Ems.

“Hi, David.” Emma looked up, trying to keep herself from laughing. “Wow, it seemed like you two had a great night.”

“We did,” Mary Margaret replied. “Your brother is such a gentleman, Emma. He makes me swoon.” The way Mary Margaret stretched out the word made Emma cave, her laugh filling the apartment.

“Good that he does, Mary Margaret.” She put the book back down, wiping a tear caused by her moment of amusement away, before contently sighing. “Well, I am pretty tired so I’m going to turn in. Night, guys.”

“Night, Emma. We love you,” they said in sync. The alcohol clearly did not blur their supposed true love bond.

Emma snickered. “Love you too, lovebirds.”

The last thing she saw before she closed the door was her brother caressing Mary Margaret’s face while they lovingly gazed at each other and the last thing Emma thought before falling asleep was how she yearned for that kind of love as well.

-/-

“Morning,” David groaned as he emerged from his and Mary Margaret’s room, shutting the door quietly, most likely to grant his girlfriend a few additional moments of sleep.

Emma sipped her coffee with an amused smile while jumping off the stool next to their breakfast counter and grabbing an extra mug to provide David with a necessary kick of energy.

“Morning to you, too. How’s the hangover?”

David flashed her a grateful smile as he accepted Emma’s kind gesture and wrapped his hands around the warm mug.

“Bearable, actually. Mary Margaret forced me to chug something that seemed like a gallon of water so I’m sure that, once I properly wake up, I’ll be as fit as a fiddle again.”

“Good.” She wriggled back onto the chair and continued to munch on the Pop Tart she had chosen as breakfast. “I wasn’t looking forward to spending my Saturday with two grumpy zombies.”

Emma could see the effects of the coffee on David as his gaze became more open, more attentive and as the corners of his lips subtly began to rise.

“How is my lovely sister doing this morning, by the way,” he inquired after a moment, his cup almost empty already.

Narrowing her eyes, Emma took a sip again, watching David over the rim of her mug and trying to figure out why it suddenly seemed as if he was attempting to coax her into doing something she would not like. She knew that tone, had heard it far too often over the years.

After clearing her mouth, she decided to go for the direct approach. It was far too early to beat around the bush. “What do you want and/or need?” She asked, eyebrows shooting upwards.

“You remember that dissertation I’m writing to get my degree?”

She did remember what he was talking about since he had been fretting over the ten-thousand-word paper for months now and the deadline kept on creeping closer. It was important to her brother, if he got his criminology major, the chances of him getting hired as a police officer—a lifelong dream of his— would increase considerably. So, she had endured every freak out session and every lecture about the exact subject he had chosen because that was what siblings did. Once the time came for Emma to write hers, in social studies this time, she knew David would do the same for her.

“Yeah, it’s difficult to forget.” Emma nodded. “But what does that have to do with me?”

She stood up to clear her plate, halting by the trash can to clear some of the remaining crumbs and depositing it in the sink. Turning on her heel, she faced her brother again.

“I need you to work your magic.” David had an apologetic look upon him as he shrugged, his police-themed PJ’s moving along.

“Which is?” She encouraged him to be more specific, to tell her exactly what she needed to do to help him.

“Read it over, give me some feedback, correct the errors that are most definitely in there?” he spoke, his voice rising as if, besides the work he had written, he was now also second-guessing his request to her.

Emma didn’t consider herself a nitpicker, but she had an eye for details and an affinity towards the English language fed by countless stories read and countless tales originating from the depths of her mind. It was a mere hobby, nothing more than an escape when things got too much to handle and people became too demanding that had originated when she was still a foster kid. That did not change Emma’s devotion or attention to detail, however; if anything, it enhanced it.

She wasn’t a nitpicker but she was the kind of person that noticed when commas stood in the wrong place or when the author should have used whom. Numerous of David’s high school assignments had to pass Emma’s watchful gaze first before getting the green light to be handed in and Emma couldn’t understand why her brother was so hesitant about asking her help now. She loved to help him, time and time again.

“David,” she said, soft and reassuring. “Of course, I’ll do it, you’re my brother. I’ll happily correct whatever mistakes I find and give some constructive feedback.”

A joyful smile broke the surface of David’s worried expression. He approached, arms open to embrace her in a hug. Emma wanted to comment on how this was all a bit too much for a simple read-through but as she felt his hand cup the back of her head, she reconsidered, basking in the warm feeling and memories.

-/-

She had to search for the right moment to tackle David’s text. Late in the evening hardly ever worked because her mind was often too clouded with the information it was bombarded with throughout the day, her eyes too tired after staring at textbooks and screens for over six hours, and her fingers fast to make a mistake as they were slow to take commands after writing down seventeen pages of notes. Emma doubted either of those elements would ameliorate the text, if not even worsen.

About four days after David had asked her, Emma finally sat behind the small wooden desk in the corner of her room, opening her laptop and shoving the chair closer. She scoured their Messenger chat to find the link to a Google Docs he had sent her, Emma claiming it would be easier to comment and adjust things on there and David following her advice.

She drank from her mug of coffee, slightly burning her tongue and rubbing it to the edges of her teeth to get rid of the feeling. Softly humming along to her Spotify playlist, Emma saw the link transform into a site and the site slowly loading and supplying a so far six-thousand seven-hundred-word-essay. She could do this, this was what she did best.

As she began to read the introduction to get a general view of what criminological theory she most definitely would not understand the essay was about, she noticed something. Footprints. Steps of someone else who had taken the path she was about to embark on. The words flashed by as she rapidly scrolled down to see if the entire document had already been scrutinized by someone else. And indeed, it had. This “anonymous python” had consistently left feedback on what her brother had written, the blue boxes appearing every paragraph or so.

anonymous python: Effect is the noun, affect the verb

anonymous python: Maybe change this word to another one. You use it thrice in two sentences.

At the end of David’s every line, Emma’s eyes dashed to the margin to see what the other proofreader thought, if they had noticed the same things she had before adding her own. She considered every comment the anonymous python had made, nodding her head in agreement with the logical and just ones, and frowning while reading those that were pure nonsense. Before she knew, she was pressing the reply button to refute whatever claim this Python was making.

anonymous python: You should add a comma here, Dave. It will structure your sentence a bit more.

anonymous swan: Please ignore the anonymous python, David. A comma is useless here, put an em-dash instead.

After checking about a third of the document and losing herself in countering any- and everything that Python had said, Emma looked up at the arrows of her clock, awfully close to the time she was expected in class. In a rush, she locked her computer, chugged the remains of her coffee—a drop missing her mouth and running down her chin before her hand hastily wiped it away— stood up, snatched her bag from her bed and dashed away to her class.

She made it with one minute to spare.

-/-

The weariness engulfing her from head to toe, Emma collapsed on her bed, an unceremonious thud in her flannel sheets. The mattress needed to process the shock, the sudden additional weight and softly bobbed as a ship might’ve on the water. Her room hadn’t quite warmed up yet, so, to give her body the warmth it yearned for, she crawled under the covers. A sigh left her lips as she settled in her own little cocoon of warmth and peace. Not feeling up to do anything else, she was planning a nice evening of scrolling through every social media app known to mankind. Emma struggled to retrieve her phone out of her jeans’ pocket without letting the cold air hit her skin, wriggling around in her sheets and turning from left to right.

A small blinking light caught her attention and she paused the fight against her sheets and pocket. Her eyes turned into slits to be able to determine the source, which was her laptop, still standing on her desk. She forgot to turn it off, right. Just before she could take the decision to ignore it, to keep it like this until the next time she needed it, her brother’s voice appeared in her mind telling her that it was bad for her computer. He wasn’t even here right now and still, he was lecturing her. Grunting, Emma reluctantly lifted her sheets and let the shivers attack her body. Three steps were all it took to reach her desk. Her fingers hit the right combination of keys to unlock the device and she began the close all the tabs she had accumulated during her last browsing session. As she moved her mouse to the red box that would close David’s paper, a sentence caught her interest.

See new changes made by anonymous.

It certainly wasn’t David, or it would’ve said that he made the changes and she didn’t change anything since she last saved everything. It had to be them. The anonymous python. With a strange feeling, a mix of excitement and apprehension, swirling inside of her, Emma looked for the alterations that had been made while she was away.

anonymous python: Excuse me? I do have a degree in English literature, I think I know when a comma is necessary, thank you very much.

“Oh, we’re being snobby, are we?”

Emma snorted and rolled her eyes. So, Python was that kind of person. All indignant and offended when someone knew better and pointed out their mistakes. Also known as Emma’s least favorite kind of person.

anonymous swan: Well, they clearly failed to teach you the most basic of punctuation.

She was already sitting at her computer, reading the document, and the adrenaline had given her new energy, so she might as well continue to do so instead of mindlessly scrolling through social media and watching cat videos. That way she could claim to be productive even if she didn’t actually do anything for school.

Suddenly a blue box popped up on the top of her screen with the white depiction of a snake in it, signaling that the anonymous python had returned.

Shit.

In a surge of panic, Emma shut the page down. Eyes wide and heart beating way faster than it ought to, she stared at her desktop image, hoping that they hadn’t seen her. It was one thing to anonymously bruise someone’s ego, a whole other thing to be in the same online room at the same time with that person, both painfully aware of what had been said.

It was time for a food break—or at least, that was what Emma told herself. She went in search of something to eat and came across a little message from Mary Margaret.

Good evening, Emma. You probably forgot but my archery class is tonight so I won’t be home ‘till late and David is staying at his own place. There’s leftover spaghetti in the fridge for you to devour. Enjoy and see you tonight.

-MM

Times like these made Emma really appreciate her friend and her caring nature. Mary Margaret was sweet, so innocently and selflessly sweet. Emma had told Mary Margaret numerous times that she could also just send a text, seeing that it was indeed the twenty-first century but Mary Margaret persisted and unknowingly brought a smile to Emma’s face every time she found a yellow post-it stuck to the refrigerator, or their table, or her bedroom door.

Emma removed the spaghetti, placed it on a plate and stuck it into the microwave, drumming her fingers against the counter as she waited for her serving of warm food. The seconds ticked away before the machine made a releasing sound while announcing her food was ready.

Plate in hand, she returned to her room and, more importantly, her computer. Taking a deep breath and first a bite of the still too warm food, Emma unlocked her computer again, bracing herself for the response of her online…— of somebody.

Oddly enough, they hadn’t reacted to her obvious jab, so Emma felt her nerves settle, only to be replaced by raging fire as she saw what they had reacted on. Which was almost every comment of hers.

anonymous python: Wrong. Your formulation is even worse than Dave’s original one.

anonymous python: A semicolon? In this sentence? I think not.

Emma was fuming. The audacity of this person. She spent the next half hour alternating between arguing on every comment they made, proving why exactly she was right and angrily chewing on her food. Reading and beta-ing were what she was good at. She didn’t need some know-it-all pointing out all of her mistakes when they were, in fact, not. There was a reason David specifically asked for her help.

(She was ignoring the fact that David had clearly asked someone else as well.)

With more force than was necessary— and healthy for her computer— she shut her screen, in dire need of something to distract her, to lead her away from her place of absolute rage and vindication. It was Python’s right to comment on her remarks as she did the same on theirs but the big difference was that hers were correct and fair criticisms while theirs were just a whole load of crap set out to drive her up the wall.

How very childish.

Continuing to revise David’s paper wasn’t in the cards right now, so she left her desk and decided she’d watch some more of that soap opera. It was the perfect opportunity seeing that Mary Margaret wasn’t getting home until late. As the title track played, Emma chose to be the bigger person and to not get carried away in this feud that had somehow unleashed. She was a responsible and smart adult and was better than this.

-/-

“Son of a bitch,” Emma yelled, fingers typing at inhuman speed. “I’ll show you just how fucking American I am.”

-/-

Emma woke up to the jingling sound of a notification and groaned, burrowing her head deeper into her pillow. She’d created this rule for herself that once she woke up, she could not go back to sleep so as her hand sloppily hunted for her phone, she prayed to Zeus that the time would be some ungodly hour so she could go back to sleep.

Zeus disappointed her.

As he often did.

Tapping her code, Emma saw what had caused her phone to chime and take over the role of her alarm clock.

David Nolan created this group chat. You, David Nolan and Killian Jones are a part of it.

Why would her brother create a group chat when they already had one? And who was this Killian Jones?

It was most likely by accident, a butt-dial sort of incident, though Emma failed to see how it was possible to add two random people who had never interacted to a group. His butt must’ve been oddly specific. Mental images flashed by her closed eyelids, turning her expression into a grimace. Thinking about her brother’s butt was a very bad idea. She should probably stop and focus on the overall situation. David hadn’t sent any additional messages which almost confirmed Emma’s suspicion of it being an accident.

Emma Nolan: ?

Emma Nolan: What’s this?

The white bubble appeared instantaneously and Emma awaited what her brother had to say.

David Nolan: A request to the both of you to stop bickering in the comment section of my paper. Your like little children.

The two of them? Was this mysterious Killian Jones the anonymous python that plagued David’s essay? She reread the message to assure she wasn’t imagining things but that was the message that his text contained. And a mistake.

Killian Jones: Dave, *you’re

Emma Nolan: *you’re

They’d responded at the exact same time and his message was all the confirmation she required. Oh, he was it, alright. Python felt the insistent need to call David Dave on every other comment and it was yet another thing about him that annoyed her and here he–Killian Jones–was using the exact same nickname with the exact same casual air that made Emma roll her eyes every single time. Why did people feel the need to nickname someone else and then only use their nickname? Dave this, Dave that. Emma was quite frankly annoyed. Even more than she already was.

David Nolan: You got my point, so quit it.

David Nolan: Though I am eternally grateful to you both for doing this. Just stop bickering.

The moment Killian had seen the message, Emma could feel him staring at her, assessing her. Not in the creepy way of course, but he wasn’t replying, nor was she, neither of them willing to acknowledge each other now they knew who exactly was hiding behind those pseudonyms. It felt like an online stare down to see who would crack first.

Even though she wanted to be strong, to show this Killian Jones just how stubborn she could be, her brother was still online, awaiting an answer, and what he was asking her—them— was only fair. Emma sighed and typed out a short answer before pressing send.

Emma Nolan: Okay.

Killian Jones: Fine.

-/-

“ Mary Margaret?” Emma said, her right hand holding a wooden spoon as she stirred a pot filled with vegetables and made sure their dinner wouldn’t burn.

“Yes?” her friend answered, walking around their dinner table and stretching her arms to set the plate and glass she was holding on the other side.

“Do you know a Killian Jones?” Her eyes focused on the orange of the carrots and the green of the broccoli.

“Why?”

Because he was incredibly annoying and a smartass and because Emma had discovered that he was also breathtakingly gorgeous after clicking on his Facebook profile. But she still hated him, let that be clear.

Mary Margaret inspected her work, quickly checking off a list of things they would need for dinner and when she concluded everything was present, she rearranged her dark pixie cut and looked up to Emma, who avoided her gaze and went on with stirring with the utmost concentration.

“Doesn’t matter, just answer the question, please,” she muttered.

There was a silence but Emma didn’t dare to turn around to see what was taking Mary Margaret so long before answering. She was just about certain what kind of look Mary Margaret’s expression would bear.

“I know him,” Mary Margaret finally gave in. “He’s one of David’s good friends. Killian is very nice, slightly full of himself but he has a heart of gold.”

Even though Mary Margaret appeared to be convinced of her view on Killian Jones, Emma couldn’t accept it. Mary Margaret saw the good in everyone even when there wasn’t any good to be found. She would give a speech about how everyone was redeemable and that one only needed to hope, so her opinion wasn’t reliable.

“I think you’re depreciating how full he is of himself because he seems pretty egocentric to me.”

And even that was an understatement.

Emma lifted her eyebrow, having found her confidence again and finally facing her friend.

“Why are you asking me this if you’ve met him?” Mary Margaret’s fair skin creased as she frowned.

Extinguishing the fire, Emma removed the vegetables and placed them on the table, turning around to grab the other components of their dinner.

“We haven’t met in real life,” she explained, “We’ve only interacted via Google Docs.”

“And it did not go well?” Mary Margaret assumed correctly.

Thinking back to what had been said, she shook her head, blonde locks slightly swaying along. “Not well” was an understatement too.

“To summarize: we fought incessantly and David made us promise we would call a truce.”

They both settled in their opposite chairs, Emma serving herself and getting ready to eat until she noticed that Mary Margaret hadn’t taken any food yet and was instead staring at her with a confused look.

“I can’t say that this doesn’t surprise me,” she spoke, drawing her eyebrows together anew. “I always thought you two would hit it off. Maybe you should you get to know each other a bit better, you do have some things in common.”

Getting to know him better was just about the last thing Emma wanted to do. It could only end up being a disaster.

“Well, it’s never going to happen. I hate Killian Jones.”

She visibly ended the discussion by taking a large bite of her food, overacting the whole thing to make her message clears but that didn’t stop Mary Margaret from making one last comment that did absolutely nothing to reassure her.

“If you say so, Emma.”

-/-

anonymous python: For goodness’ sake, Swan, he used the wrong tense here. How did you not see that?

anonymous swan: It’s creative license, Jones. It can work. Also, we’re not supposed to bicker and it’s Emma.

anonymous python: We aren’t bickering if you just agree that creative license in a dissertation is bollocks, Swan.

anonymous swan: EMMA. And no can do, sir. I suppose we are bickering.

-/-

anonymous swan: Jones, I am begging you. Please stop changing everything to British spelling. We’re in America. Adjust.

anonymous python: Normally I prefer to do more enjoyable activities with a woman begging me, but you’ve left me no choice. Care to show me?

David Nolan: Jones, stop hitting on my sister. And what did I tell you about bickering?

anonymous python: We’re just having a bit of fun, David.

David Nolan: Then have fun somewhere else than my dissertation.

anonymous python: You heard him, Swan. Let’s have fun somewhere else. Drinks on me tonight, The Merry Men, 9 pm.

David Nolan: No, you’re not doing that.

anonymous python: Don’t fret, Dave. You can join too.

-/-

She shouldn’t actually go, should she? He must’ve been joking, daring her to do something only to not show up to make fun of her. But why would he invite David as well? He wouldn’t do that to his friend, would he? Even though Emma did not hold him in any high regard, he did seem like a good friend to David. So, his proposal must’ve been genuine.

That didn’t help with sorting out her thoughts, it only gave her more questions, more doubts and fears. One thing, however, was blatantly clear.

Killian Jones confused her.

And not in a good way.

(Or so she told herself.)

-/-

The neon letters of the bar flickered against the inky night, a lighthouse in the dark to guide her ashore. She hadn’t figured out yet if it was a trap leading her to the cliffs or not.

Emma inhaled, the cold air almost painfully filling her lungs and shut her eyes. She hadn’t entered, hadn’t met him for real, hadn’t gotten drunk and she was already regretting this.

A decision had to be made. Either to enter or to go home. The internal debate with herself couldn’t last the entire evening or she would freeze. Wrapping her red leather jacket a bit tighter around herself, she shivered. Go inside or go home. There was a warm bar right in front of her and if she chose to go home, she would have to wait for a cab in the cold.

In the end, the prospect of feeling her fingers again won as Emma pushed the heavy wooden door and entered the bar. The heat warmed her skin and she knew she had made the right choice.

Her eyes roamed the room as she searched for her brother’s sandy colored hair, but to no avail.

“And here I thought you wouldn’t show.” Emma was startled by the voice suddenly appearing to her right. And by the accent. It didn’t make it difficult to guess who it belonged to despite the fact they had never spoken. She felt her heart speed up as she faced the source. “Swan.” He smirked, a cheeky and cocky thing that told Emma she had made the wrong choice. “Pleased to finally meet you.”

His hair was a chaos of black, his eyes a sea of blue. And if the dim bar light did not mislead her, his beard a haze of red. No amount of Facebook profile pictures could’ve prepared Emma for this.

“You know my name is Emma.” She stared at him with a raised eyebrow, the picture of not amused and unimpressed. Or so she hoped.

Jones laughed, a resonant thing, while pushing up the sleeves of his light blue shirt which totally did not make him ten times more attractive.

“I do, but I like Swan.” He shrugged. “It suits you.”

“And why is that?” she said, the suspicion coloring her voice.

Their eyes met and even though Emma wanted to look away, she couldn’t; the connection was too strong to sever. He didn’t move either, or blink, or answer the question she’d asked him.

“Feisty and beautiful.” was his reply after a minute or so. Perhaps it was more a couple of seconds. She had no idea. It was like the hard drive of her brain had been deleted and she’d forgotten how to do the most basic of things. Like breathing. Emma took a deep breath through her nose as she shook herself out of the trance. “I must say that your profile picture does not do you justice,” Jones continued.

Emma is surprised her eyes don’t roll out of her skull but the heat rises to her cheeks, nevertheless.

“Wow.” Emma scoffed. “It’s a good thing that you’re buying because I’m going to need a lot of alcohol to handle this.” Her hand drew a circle around his silhouette in the air.

“Say no more,” he smirked and led her to two empty bar chairs.

-/-

“Jane Austen? That’s your favorite author?” she almost shouted in disbelief. Emma had to stop herself from laughing. “Is it because you see yourself as a Mr. Knightley? I hate to break it to you, you’re not. At most a Mr. Elton.”

“I beg your pardon?” He looked genuinely affronted but Emma didn’t know if it was because she was mocking his choice of favorite author or because she was comparing him to one of the worst characters in Emma. “What’s wrong with Jane Austen, she quite frankly wrote terrific books. Who’s your favorite author, may I ask?” he challenged her.

It didn’t take Emma long to come up with a name.

“Hemingway,” she said before taking a swig from her bottle of beer and contently nodding as she thought about it again.

Jones tilted his head and quietly hummed as he considered her answer.

“Very good author,” he finally reacted and Emma was about to start beaming with pride when he continued to speak, “but definitely not worthy of the honor of being your favorite. You need to pick someone who deserves it, with whom you would love to be friends. I for one would love to be friends with Jane Austen. Hemingway… not so much.”

“What?” She tried to find some sign of ridicule or humor but found none. He was being completely honest. And she did not agree in the slightest. “That’s bullshit. I don’t need to like Hemingway as a person to like him as an author.”

“But who he is as a person is reflected in his books. Trust me, I have a degree in literature.”

“Ugh, this again,” she complained and rolled her eyes, a very common occurrence when she was in the company of Killian Jones, it would seem.

“It’s the truth. Oh no!” he suddenly shouted.

Emma almost fell off her bar stool, her hand flying up to her chest in shock and barely missing her bottle of beer on the counter. She looked around, eyes frantically searching for something amiss before they landed on Jones again who sat calmly on his stool, amusedly watching her.

“What?”

“We’re bickering, Swan,” he announced. “David would disapprove.”

Emma clenched her jaw in anger while she attempted to get her heartbeat back to normal.

“You just scared the shit out of me. Where is David by the way?

Jones raised his shoulders, showing that he did not know either what was keeping her brother. Bent on finding out why he hadn’t shown up in the last hour, she fished her phone out of pocket and dialed David’s number. The bar and the area surrounding it kept on getting busier, so as the dial tone rung in Emma’s ears, she left Jones there and went in search of a place where she would be able to hear what David’s most likely lame excuse for running late would be. The continuous ring stopped with a rustle, telling her he had finally picked up.

“Hello?” he said.

“Hey, it’s me. Where are you?” She settled against a brick wall in some hallway not frequented by other people.

“Um.” Emma narrowed her eyes as David struggled to get a uniform answer out. This was suspicious. “I can’t make it.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, sorry, Emma. I have to go.”

And abruptly she was met with the end of the call and silence. Nothing in that call seemed like her brother. The last-minute cancelling—could you even call it that if he was supposed to be here an hour ago— the general vagueness, the abrupt end of the call. Odd. Very odd.

Thinking about it had her frowning as she walked back to the spots Jones and she occupied earlier and that he was still protecting against predators

“Is everything okay?” His eyes showed concern for her.

“Yeah,” Emma reassured him, smiling to get rid of the scowl on her face. “David is not coming.”

Grabbing her deserted bottle of probably lukewarm beer, Emma climbed back onto the stool.

“I don’t really mind if I’m being honest. I’m quite enjoying myself with the present company.”

Were they sitting closer than before? They must be. Emma wasn’t able to discern his distinctive smell before, nor could she see the small scar on his right cheek or how long his eyelashes were. It almost managed to take her breath away.

“I should probably go home,” she whispered.

“Come on, Swan, don’t let a man drink alone.” She felt his gaze trace her face as he pleaded with her, both verbally and physically.

They stared at one another again and for a split second, Emma was certain they were going to kiss. He was going to lean in or she was and their lips would meet and she’d be kissing Killian Jones. The other people around them would disappear as they focused on each other and how their tongues would interact and time would stop as they pulled and pushed, fighting for control and the upper hand. She would moan, he would groan, the feeling so satisfying and it would definitely be mind-blowing. She would instantly regret it.

“I have to go,” she said weakly. “I have an early class tomorrow.”

It was a shit excuse and they both knew it.

-/-

“So?” A chirpy voice behind Emma spoke. At this hour, there was only one person in this apartment that scattered chirpiness: Mary Margaret. “How was your date with Killian?”

How she reminded Emma of how her mom behaved when she went on her first date. Way too nosy and excited about the whole ordeal.

“It wasn’t a date,” Emma reminded her friend. “David was supposed to show up too but he bailed on me.”

Which still confused her. Her brother, who had gone to great lengths to avoid that Jones spent time with her, was suddenly okay with leaving them alone at night, with alcohol involved? It seemed awfully out of character for David. He considered himself her savior, the big brother that had to keep all harm away from his little sister. Killian Jones was far from being harmless and David was aware of that.

“I know.”

“You know?” Emma turned her head, suspiciously eyeing her sister-in-law. If there was one person that could make David not act like himself…

“I might be the reason why?” Mary Margaret grimaced and confirmed Emma’s suspicion.

What the hell?

“Mary Margaret!” came out as a shout. Emma didn’t even try to hide her displeasure.

Of course, she meddled. After her comment from before about how she thought they should get to know each other, Emma could not be surprised that she made sure that they did. She couldn’t be surprised but she could be disgruntled.

“Sorry.” Her hands went up as a defense mechanism. She didn’t seem sorry at all, making it all so much worse. “But, how was it?”

Emma let her change the subject because deep down she’d been wanting to discuss it with someone. She hadn’t rightly figured out what exactly it was she wanted to discuss but she knew she needed to verbalize it, even if it was only an attempt to. Killian Jones did things to her, things she couldn’t wrap her mind around, things that were all over the place as if they swung from left to right, from one opposite to the other and she was stuck watching it all take place.

“He’s … urgh.” It was both a sigh and a grunt at the same time and the best thing she could think of to describe her evening.

“Emma Nolan at loss for words, I didn’t think I would live to see this day.

“I’m not at loss for words I can give you a million words to describe Killian Jones. Aggravating for instance. What else?” She bit her lip in thought, trying to prove she hadn’t lost any of her magic powers. “Oh!” She raised her finger a bit too excitedly as another word came to mind. “He’s also pedantic, conceited and most of the time very…”

“Distracting?” Mary Margaret prompted with a look of compassion.

Emma let her shoulders sag, her whole body following as she dropped herself on their couch. It took a lot of energy to pretend. “Very,” she faintly admitted, hair strewn across the leather and eyes glued to the ceiling.

She felt her legs being lifted as Mary Margaret made room for her to sit on the couch too.

“Emma, there is nothing wrong with asking him to hang out again,” she assured her, a squeeze following meant to emphasize her words but Emma shook her head disagreeing. Mary Margaret couldn’t know that for certain, she lived in this brightly colored fairytale world where everything went great and everyone was happy and got their Happily Ever After. Emma didn’t believe in all of that. This thing with Jones wouldn’t lead to that if they—she— acted on it. She didn’t know where it would lead her and that was why she wouldn’t dare to take the plunge. Staying safely ashore was far safer than risking to drown.

“And grant him the opportunity to gloat at every given moment?” She sat back up, trying to shake off the conflicting feeling and immersing herself back into her earlier mindset. The mindset from when Jones was just still anonymous python and she couldn’t stand the sight of him. Maybe Mary Margaret would believe the act she was putting on. “No, thank you. I need to stay as far away from Killian Jones as possible.”

-/-

“Swan?” Emma froze, her hand still reaching out for the box of hot chocolate mix and her eyes shutting as she winced while hearing the nickname only one person in the whole world called her. Just her luck that that one person was also the one she was avoiding with might and main. But apparently, she couldn’t even go to the supermarket in peace. Maybe if she didn’t move, continued to stand there with her hand in the air, he wouldn’t approach her? Perhaps he would just walk by with an acknowledging nod and she would go about her day without having to face Killian Jones after she very obviously stood him up two weeks ago. Who was she kidding, the universe wasn’t kind enough to grant her that gesture. “What a lovely coincidence.”

Taking a breath, she turned around, a neutral expression on her features instead of the alarmed one they bore.

“Jones,” she curtly addressed him.

He was wearing a dark burgundy sweater, a pair of dark jeans and a warm coat over it to protect him from the outside temperatures; his hair was still a controlled mess and his cheeks slightly rosy due to the cold but what caught Emma’s attention the most was the smile that did not waver from his face.

“I’m happy I’m running into you.”

Emma had noticed that. She needed to be strong, however, to not get distracted by the way his eyes crinkled.

“Why exactly is that?” Her brow skeptically furrowed.

He moved his shopping basket to his left arm to take a step closer to her. Her body wanted to back away but the rack with hot chocolate mixes was in the way. The distance between them had declined so much that, because of their height difference, Emma was now forced to look up to look him in the eye.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something but I didn’t want to do it via Messenger.”

There was a foreboding silence as they watched each other. He wouldn’t dare. She had just gone through two weeks of agony and he wasn’t about to reset her whole process by saying what she thought he was going to say. He couldn’t.

“I wrote an essay for an academic publication-” Emma felt her chest deflate as she let the air out of her lungs in relief. He wasn’t. She mentally thanked Zeus. “-and I was wondering if you could take a look at it?”

“Take a look?” Emma repeated harshly. “Why?” She didn’t give him any time to reply and answered her own question, “To boost your ego? You know what, I think I’m gonna pass. Hey, I have an idea. Maybe you should ask one of your flings, I’m certain they’d love to have the scoop of reading the essay of the prodigal Killian Jones.” To finish her statement, she added a sly smirk— though it was more of a sneer.

They bantered and jabbed, all with the same air of sarcasm and mockery, this was what they did. But why did he appear so defeated, then? So sad? He wasn’t supposed to; he was to supposed to counter with his equally clever remark, another battle in their never-ending war.

“Emma, please, would you read it,” he begged. It wasn’t the way he said it but what that caught her off guard. He’d never called her Emma before. Never, not even once. He purposely and stubbornly refused to. So, this was dead serious. “I’m begging you. I’ll do anything in return. I just need a second set of eyes.”

The desperation drenched his words and Emma could feel her resolution of staying detached fall apart, piece by piece.

“Okay,” she said, before thinking about what she was doing. Her heart clenched at the sight of his distressing disposition and wanted to banish it once and for all. She was pretty sure it would do everything in its power never to see that look again. “You can send me the file. I have to go now but I’ll take a look tonight.”

“Thank you so much, Swan.” He managed to smile a small smile. “You’ve earned my eternal gratitude.

She had no idea what to with that.

Not even five minutes later, her phone chirped.

Killian Jones has sent you a friendship request.

Sighing, Emma clicked accept. It was just a Facebook friendship, she was aware, but still, it was more. She’d agreed to help like a friend would. They suddenly became friends instead of fluctuating in the grey zone of enemies-but-not-really. It felt weird to enter this new territory. To have Killian Jones as a friend while she spent so much time being annoyed by him and far too much time with him residing in the back of her mind.

Killian Jones: Thanks again for doing this, Swan.

Emma Nolan: No problem. So, what do you want me to do precisely? Spelling, grammar, anything else?

Killian Jones: Well, spelling and grammar should be on point, but it can’t hurt to double check. It’s mainly the message, however. Do you get what I’m saying? Am I not repeating myself? Is there a clear structure? etc. I’ve read it so many times now that I’m second guessing every word and phrasing.

Emma Nolan: I can do that. I’ll read it as soon as I can.

Killian Jones: Be kind, Swan.

Emma Nolan: Eh. I’ll see how good this is before making any promises.

-/-

It wasn’t just good, it was incredible. Written with passion and intelligence. He incorporated humor in an academic essay and managed to get away with it. He drew her in from the very first sentence and kept her attention for the whole thirteen pages, the speed with which she was reading only increasing so she could see what else he had written. Fuck, he was talented. And she now had to admit it to him.

anonymous swan: I would add em-dashes here just to clarify the structure of your sentence.

anonymous swan: Good metaphor, I’d go even further with it. Compare more to it, the reader won’t mind one bit

anonymous swan: I thought you said creative license in academic essays was “bollocks”? Someone isn’t being consistent.

Killian Jones: I was expecting you to be more critical

Emma Nolan: So was I, but there was nothing to be critical about. It was really good, surprisingly enough.

Killian Jones: You think so?

Emma Nolan: I do. Well done, Jones.

-/-

Killian Jones: Swan! Guess what!

Emma Nolan: What?

Killian Jones: Because of my essay, I got nominated for the Newcomer of the Year award!!

Emma Nolan: Wow, Impressive! Congratulations!

Killian Jones: Thank you! Apparently, they attempted to reach out to me as soon as it got published, but they got my contact information wrong. The award ceremony is tonight and I thought I’d ask you to come along as a thank you.

Emma Nolan: Jones, I’ve already told you that I did absolutely nothing, stop trying to thank me. Emma Nolan: Besides, fancy award ceremonies and I don’t mix. I’m going to skip. But have fun!

-/-

“Have you heard the news?”

Emma startled as her brother barged into her room without knocking, without so much as a word to warn her of his entrance. In confusion, she took out her earbud, the white pod still blasting her playlist of study music, and silently asked him what he was doing with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

“Have you heard?” he repeated, his voice insisting.

Slamming her book shut and pulling out her other earbud, aware of how she would not be able to do any studying when he was interrogating her in her room’s door opening, she turned to him, begrudgingly giving him her full and prompt attention.

“Heard what, David?” The annoyance was obvious in how she almost spit the words out.

“Killian’s essay got nominated for some prize.”

“I know. Good for him. I already congratulated him.” She failed to see why David had to kick down her door and announce it, interrupting her sacred reversion time. She was finally being productive.

“That’s all?” he asked, disappointed about something Emma couldn’t figure out.

What more could he want?

“Yeah,” she stretched out the word, watching him. “I was invited to come along but I passed. What else do you want me to say?

“Emma!” She was definitely missing something to understand this whole situation. “He asked you out and you said no!”

David provided her with the missing information, but she was wrong, it did not help whatsoever to understand.

“What? I said he didn’t need to thank me with some fancy dinner.” Her voice rose in pitch as she slowly began to comprehend what was going on and tried to defend herself. She was innocent.

“Knowing Killian, he took it as a rejection.”

“No, he didn’t,” Emma was convincing herself more than David at this point. “What are you talking about?”

David grabbed his phone, ceremoniously cleared his throat and started reading, “5:21 pm: “Mate, do you think it’s a good idea to ask your sister to join me? But like on an official date,”” he horrendously copied Jones’ typical lilt. “And then just now, 7:57 pm: “Dave, I don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve tried so many times, but I think she’s just not interested. I should give up. Anyways, I have to go. I have a ceremony to attend.””

Her brother was awaiting a reaction but Emma was right there with him, no idea how or what she should react. All she knew was that she didn’t want him to give up. So, all this time spent talking and bickering, that was him trying?

“What happened to him being this suave ladies’ man?”

“Do you really believe that’s who he is? Or even was?” His blue eyes were solemn as he questioned her opinion of his friend. She could see it there, the close bond the two of them had, the way David wanted to protect Killian. Perhaps the reason he never introduced Emma to him wasn’t because he wanted to protect her, but because he wanted to secure his best friend’s fragile heart.

“No,” she answered, head and eyes cast downwards in shame. “Okay, but what do you want me to do about it?”

The look he gave her didn’t leave a lot to the imagination and if it wasn’t quite clear yet, his arms crossing in front of his chest did tell her what he wanted her to do.

“When did you become such a fan of Jones and me together?”

His stern gaze and posture softened again as he thought of an answer which led Emma to think that the answer would be something she wasn’t ready for yet.

“Since I saw how much you’ve both changed since you met one another.” He stepped closer and went to sit on a corner of her desk. “Mary Margaret had to open my eyes but once seen, it could not be unseen. I didn’t completely realize how much you two were talking.”

“About your dissertation,” Emma clarified.

David looked down at her, not a trace of pressure or implication. Only a simple question with no underlying meaning; he was giving her the freedom to answer as she pleased. “Are you sure about that?”

They weren’t only talking about his dissertation. Every conversation might’ve started that way but they slowly but surely drifted to another topic, time and time again. She’d gotten to know a lot about him over the past few weeks she’d considered him a friend, and he about her, more than she cared to admit.

She shut her eyelids and shook her head. Once she reopened them, David sympathetically watched her. The hairs on her body stood upright with the realization that she wanted to try too. Finally, she had gotten ready to risk it, to give him a chance. But Killian told David he was done trying. Fuck.

“Now go.” David shook her out of her contemplation.

“What?” Emma replied in confusion.

“To the ceremony.” David grabbed her arms and helping her out of her chair. “You might still make it on time.”

She had only just come to the realization that she liked him and she already supposed to go and tell him? Oh no, she could not do that. Emma needed at least another couple of days or so to accept it all, and then visit him on her own terms, and then maybe bring up the topic. This was going way too fast.

“David, I can’t just barge in!”

What would it look like? Her swinging open the doors of a black and tie event in her sweatpants and oversized sweater, hair a mess—and not the good kind like Jones’— out of breath and sweating, disrupting some important person holding a speech and all eyes flying over to her just to say that she liked Killian Jones enough to want to date him. Emma’s worst nightmare, that was what it looked like.

“Yes, you can!” he disagreed, pushing her out of the room.

“Why are we yelling?” Mary Margaret appeared in the hallway and joined the conversation.

Before Emma could turn around and answer her question, placating Mary Margaret and downplaying everything to avoid her interference, David took the opportunity to recruit her onto his side.

“Emma is going to Killian’s ceremony to tell him she likes him.”

Waving her hands, she attempted to transfer the message that that wasn’t what they were doing. Everyone needed to calm the fuck down. David needed to stop pushing her, both physically and emotionally; Mary Margaret needed to stop looking at her with that sparkle of hope in her green eyes; and Emma needed the space to breathe and not freak out about everyone knowing she liked Jones.

“Oh my god!” Mary Margaret joined the yelling and simultaneously did so with Emma.

“No, I’m not!”

Her head was starting to hurt and to relieve the pain, Emma began to rub her temples with the tips of her fingers.

Mary Margaret came closer and tenderly placed her hands on both of Emma’s shoulders.

“Emma, you should,” she advised, bringing the yelling to an end with her soft voice. “It would be so very romantic.”

David came to stand right next to her, nodding and echoing what his girlfriend had said, yet again a reappearance of their trademarked true love bond.

“Why are you two like this?” Emma inquired as a last refusal, no idea what she was supposed to do right now. She could feel those two sets of eyes staring at her and pulling her over that line, convincing her, regardless how hard she might be against the idea.

“Emma.” She looked up at her brother and sister-in-law, who were standing awfully close to her in a tiny hallway. “Do you like Killian?”

“Yes.”

Mary Margaret smirked, an unsettling sight because she was not the type of person that smirked. Emma knew that it was decided. They were going.

“Then put on that pretty dress in your closet—you know that soft pink one— and go to the ceremony. I’ll drive.”

Emma supposed it was time to do some grand romantic gesture of her own. Ugh.

-/-

She slipped into the dark room, her dress swishing against her bare legs, and softly closed the door behind her. Scanning the room, she went in search of him and after some squinting, she could spot him in the front row. He looked an awful lot like the day she ran into him at the supermarket, nervous and afraid, with as only difference the suit he was wearing instead of his woolly sweater.

“To end our evening, we would like to announce our Newcomer of the Year,” the slightly balding man on the stage announced. Emma smiled, she had made it just in time. “The winner of this prize is a young, up-and-coming author. After recently having graduated in the studies of English Literature–”

And never shutting up about the fact that he did, Emma thought.

“–our laureate received acclaim for his dissertation and he managed to prove again with his recently written essay that this was all due to his talent and dedication. We are very pleased to announce that this year’s winner is Mr. Killian Jones.”

She clapped and whooped as she saw him walk towards the stage with a brilliant smile, pride swelling and spreading in her chest. He truly deserved this.

Killian reached the microphone and accepted the little statue, giving the host a handshake and looking at the bronze prize in awe.

“Thank you very much. I cannot properly express what it means to have your support. Writing and reading have been passions of mine ever since I was a young lad and to take this path was, therefore, a logical option I’ve not once regretted. Me standing here today would not be possible without my brother and mother who read countless stories until their voices went hoarse, without the amazing friends I have, and without the incredible people who read and gave feedback when the doubt grew too large and to whom I’m eternally grateful. So, thank you. I will treasure this moment forever.”

His speech was met with loud applause and Killian left the stage again, still shaking his head in disbelief. She was about to surprise him again. Waiting in a corner of the room until the mass of people wanting to congratulate him had dispersed and he was alone again, Emma left the shadows and walked over to Killian, who was admiring his prize yet again.

“I believe congratulations are in order. Newcomer of the Year, well done.”

Killian’s eyes left the trophy and moved to her, wide and blinking to see if this was real.

“Swan,” he breathed. “You’re here.”

She shrugged. “I decided that I might try one of these fancy award ceremonies.” Jones beamed as she leaned in. “I particularly liked your speech. Tell me, are there a lot of incredible people that read your text? Or was it just me?”

“Just you, Swan. You are more than enough.”

Fuck these stupid fancy award ceremonies for not being an appropriate place to attack him with her mouth.

Five Years Later

“Are you nervous?” she asked, running her hands through his dark locks, making them look just right. After taking a small step back and nodding approvingly, her hand slid down, settling on his cheek and caressing the soft skin there.

“Why would I be nervous?” His blue eyes looked up and betrayed that his confidence was all just an act.

Which Emma already knew, of course. She knew how he reacted to publishing his own work, to letting people he didn’t know and trust read the things he had worked on for weeks, months and even years sometimes.

“Because I know you and you’re publishing something that’s a bit bigger than just an essay in a magazine this time.” Emma’s eyebrows rose and Killian let out a sigh.

“Yeah,” he finally admitted, covering her hand with his own. “I’m bloody nervous.”

A smile crept on her face and she curled her free arm around his, pulling him closer to her to whisper a confession in his ear.

“I was waiting until you would say that.”

“Were you?” he questioned, tilting his head and lifting one expressive eyebrow.

Moving her head up and down, Emma confirmed. “So I could do this–” Her lips gently brushed his, an innocent thing, but it wasn’t about passion right now. It was about calming him and his nerves down and kissing her almost always seemed to have that effect. “– and tell you that your book is amazing and that everyone is going to love it. It’s the best thing you’ve ever written, Killian. And it can’t hurt that you had the world’s best beta-reader who also happens to be your lovely wife.” She winked, earning a laugh from Killian. “I’ve finally picked a favorite author that deserves it and that I love ” The words carried the memory of their very first date— first according to Killian, Emma wasn’t really convinced of that— and managed to eradicate the last remnants of stress inside of Killian as his hand stopped trembling and his eyes only contained love.

“You’re brilliant, you know that, right?” He cradled her cheeks before letting their foreheads touch.

“And you’ll do great, you know that, right?” she whispered back with closed eyes, reveling in the moment.

“I love you, Swan.”

She felt his lips on hers again and kissed back, the sensation still making her feel lightheaded as it had when they first kissed on the parking lot of the venue Killian had won his first award.

“Go knock them dead.”

He winked one final time at her before walking out on stage, a thunderous applause welcoming him, and Emma left the backstage to join the audience.

“Hello everyone, welcome and thank you for being at this reading,” Killian greeted his fans. “I’ll be reading the first couple of chapters and afterwards, you can get your copy signed if you’d like.”

The book on the stand was opened and Killian began to read.

“This book—and all of its em-dashes— is dedicated to the anonymous swan.”

A/N: This fic—and all of its em-dashes— is dedicated to the notorious nonnie

#cs ff #captain swan #cs au #cs crew #my words and sentences #notorious nonnie

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samingtonwilson · 7 years

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7 Things Said on Leonard’s Couch

Summary: Leonard McCoy’s couch is host to many conversations.

Warnings: language

A/N: first vignette style fic with len! i wish i liked this a lot more. there are parts of it that i love, though

one

It’d been a long day.

Between chasing after Jim to make sure he would actually attend his physical and admonishing Jim for making you chase after him, you were exhausted. You needed a long shower, an even longer nap, and the absolute longest break.

But, of course, being a physician aboard the Enterprise meant your showers were never long enough, your naps were far too short, and breaks were infrequent. You had to find relaxation in the little things and your favorite thing to find relaxation in, or rather on, was Leonard’s couch.

You were seated at the far right, your back against the light grey armrest and your legs outstretched before you. You’d abandoned your boots in the corner of his quarters long ago, spreading your toes and contracting them only to repeat the process with a little more wiggle each time.

Leonard’s eyes stayed on your hands, though. From where he sat at the far left, seated the correct way so his feet were flat on the ground, his eyes didn’t waver from the bright red liquid in your glass. He watched as the disgusting, overly sugared sports drink sloshed against the walls of glass on one side, then sloshed against the other with each of your small movements.

He wanted to reach out and snatch the glass away, he wanted to dump the drink down the drain. Sure, he could argue he was dumping it for your own good— that many grams of sugar per serving could never be canceled out no matter the electrolytic value— but he really wanted to dump it for fear that his light grey couch might bear a bright red stain, a stain he would never get out no matter how obsessively he scrubbed at it.

You brought the glass to your lips, taking a long sip but ultimately only taking down a cubic centimeter of its volume.

He sighed in discontent, his leg bouncing in agitation.

“Something wrong, Len?”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours, the hazel distant and pinched with worry. He shook his head, muttering unconvincingly, “Tired is all.”

Once he finished talking, his sharp gaze went right back to your glass. He watched as you turned it in your hands, watched as you purposely let the liquid move from left to right, watched as you had the audacity to swirl it as if it was expensive wine and not a drink football coaches would be bathed in after a successful match.

Your suspicions were confirmed when you lifted the glass to your lips again. You sighed and lowered it without taking a sip. “I thought you said this stuff’s disgusting.”

He scowled, his gaze still fixed and pointed. “It is. S’like downin’ an entire jar of sugar.”

“Then why are you staring at it like it holds all the wonders of the universe?”

“No reason.”

You shrugged a shoulder, still thoroughly unconvinced but you decided to let it go. It wasn’t until a small drop dribbled down the outside wall of the glass, splashing unnoticeably against the couch cushion beneath you that you finally understood his problem.

“That’s it!” he shouted, pushing his tired body from the sofa and snatching the glass from you. “No more fuckin’ neon drinks on this couch! You’re stainin’ everything!”

Of course, he should’ve realized the violent movements of his hands would send what remained in the glass spilling all over his blue uniform tunic, creating a much bigger stain than you probably ever would. But it was too late.

He didn’t scold you when you laughed, though, he only chuckled with you as you threw your head back and tears slipped from the corners of your eyes.

two

Three hours ago, you planted yourself on Leonard’s couch, right in the middle with your legs folded onto the surface. Three hours ago, you fired up your PADD and pulled up a novel Jim had begged you to read months ago but you’d blown off in the name of irritating him as much as possible. Three hours ago, you began staring at the screen with a forgotten plate of browning apple slices beside you and sat almost perfectly still, save for your scrolling finger.

Leonard had gotten a lot done in that amount of time. He’d tidied up his bed, scrubbed down all the dishes, wiped down every surface, and folded all of his laundry. He would glance at you every few minutes, though, hoping you would set the goddamn tablet down and look at him, or talk to him, or just pay him the slightest attention.

He knew you liked his couch— you claimed it was far cozier than the couch in your quarters as the fabric was insanely soft and the cushioning was so fucking fluffy. He had just always held out a little bit of hope that maybe it wasn’t the couch you liked so much— maybe it was his company. You were around one another all day anyway in the medbay and, during meal times and shore leaves, you never strayed too far from the group of friends you’d made during your Academy days— a group Jim always called the dream team as it consisted of the captain himself, Leonard, you, a preliminarily reluctant Uhura that would now lay down her life for any of you, and a still very reluctant Spock.

There was always a part of him that thought those signs pointed towards you liking him as much as he’d always liked you. With your loud laugh, quick-witted sense of humor, and total lack of ability to take shit from him or anyone else, you were exactly what he needed and he thought maybe you’d see and understand his characteristics and realize he was exactly what you needed, too.

There was a corny, cheesy, cliche part of him that found comfort in the whole alternate universe thing Spock Prime explained to you all years ago as it meant there was another version of him somewhere, in some reality that had you, that got to love you as openly as this reality’s Leonard really wanted to. But he continued to hope that somehow the universe the two of you ended up together in was this one— he would’ve given anything for that.

But your infatuation seemed to be solely with his couch, the time display now indicating you’d been seated in the same spot for four hours.

He decided enough was enough. With a slapping of his hands against the freshly polished counter he stood behind, he gained your attention easily. He frowned. “Sugar, don’t you think you should be gettin’ up soon?”

“Why?”

“‘M not lookin’ forward to having a you-shaped dent in my fuckin’ couch cushions for the rest of our time up here.” He sighed. “You need activity.”

You looked back down. “Reading is an activity.”

“Activity involving movement.”

“Listening to you lecture me is creating a lot of downward movement right here,” you answered, pointing to your lips that were now weighed down in a frown.

Despite himself, Leonard cracked a smile and snorted. “Get the fuck up, time for dinner.”

“Where are your Southern manners? Where is that Southern hospitality?”

“You’re leavin’ an ass print in my couch. You don’t deserve Southern manners or hospitality.”

three

The away mission was supposed to take less time than it did. It was meant to be a quick trip down with the intention of resupplying a sorely lacking Federation hospital with some of the many medical tools on board neither you or Leonard thought twice about keeping— after all, they needed it more.

But, because the attack-prone border planet was so remote and so cut-off from the many advances every other planet now relied on, the two of you and your many overly-competent nurses stayed put for hours just teaching the hospital staff the basics of each tool and what to do if one of the many rogue Klingon attacks depleted them of any necessities, like electricity.

It was safe to say you were standing on weak legs the instant you were beamed back. After the debriefing Leonard thought was nothing short of completely useless, he guided you with whatever strength he had remaining to his quarters and didn’t have to ask twice for you to make yourself at home.

He replicated a nice mug of coffee for himself and an even nicer mug of peppermint tea for you, the steam warming the cold tip of your nose as soon as you took the blue ceramic vessel from him.

He sighed as he sat back, tipping his nose upwards so he stared at the ceiling. “What if they run out of supplies sooner than we anticipated?”

“The Bradbury’s heading in this direction— should be passing by here in, like, two months time,” you said, the tiredness caking your voice surprising to the both of you. “Could just warp over if need be.”

He turned his head to look at you, your own head tipped back like his but your eyes shut. “Darlin’, you sound exhausted.”

You lifted your tired lids and face him as well. You traced the lines on his face that were more pronounced with his own state of burnout, his dark hair messy and his eyes dull. “That’s because I am exhausted.”

He nodded, straightening out his position and pointing towards your legs. “Put ‘em up here, come on.”

You lifted your head only to tilt it questioningly.

“Put your legs on the couch, sweetheart. If there’s one thing these legendary hands are good for, it’s an excellent foot rub.”

You didn’t have to be told twice.

four

Jim sat across from you, his elbows on his knees and his chin upon his palm. He tilted his head as he looked at you, blue eyes wide and filled with enough concern to drown you and the rest of the Enterprise crew. He didn’t say much, though. He just took random sips of his drink and nodded every so often.

Leonard sat beside you, his arm draped over the back of the couch so he could run his hand up and down your upper arm or give your shoulders a squeeze if need be. His gaze never left your red-rimmed eyes, your trembling lips, your restless fingers. He didn’t say much either. He just clenched his jaw in anger and loosened it each time you looked his way.

His hands were made for healing. Everything he’d been taught in medical school, during his residency, his fellowship, and his years in Starfleet Academy pointed toward only using his skills to mend, to treat, to fix. But right now, as he saw tears leave your eyes and hiccups break your breaths, he wanted nothing more than to use those same hands to hurt the person that had the nerve to leave you like this.

But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t overstep, he couldn’t intervene, he couldn’t impose a permanent solution on a temporary problem— it wasn’t his place and he knew that, especially when it came to the goings on of your family back on Earth. It was only his place to comfort you, to listen to you, to be there for you— and that’s what he did.

“Move into my place when we get back,” Jim suggested, smiling a little when you scoffed. “I’m serious! I keep the place clean, I’ve got premium cable, I cook—”

Leonard snorted. “You can barely boil water.”

“Okay, well, I can order takeout,” he amended, laughing when you cracked a smile. “We’ll change your number, too. Maybe even your name. Keep you totally hidden.”

“Then we’ll burn your fuckin’ fingerprints off and get you a new social security number,” Leonard added dryly, rolling his eyes. “Go the full nine yards and pay for plastic surgery. No one’ll find you.”

You finally laughed, the sound taking Leonard’s scowl and practically flipping it. You sighed then, rubbing your tired eyes. “Tell you what, I’ll take you guys up on that the day the government finds all the bodies I’ve buried in Golden Gate Park.”

“What about the ones in Half Moon Bay?” Jim asked, a single thick eyebrow raised.

“They’ll never find those,” you winked, shaking your head. “Fuck, I’m so tired.”

“Sleep here.”

Your eyes found Leonard’s, trying to find a hint of humor over his features as you blinked moisture away. “What?”

“Sleep here,” he shrugged. “You said you didn’t want to be alone and it doesn’t have to be on the couch, I can take the couch. You just need to sleep, sweetheart.”

“Can’t sleep in the bed with me, Len?” you asked with a tilted head and a small smile, that glint in your eyes he loved so much causing his stomach to flip. “Afraid you’ll join the bodies buried in Half Moon Bay?”

Jim, watching the two of you with a grin, nodded at Leonard when the latter glanced his way. If he had it his way, he’d be lighting lavender scented candles and turning on some mood music before leaving. Something to get the two of you to go at it already.

five

You were due to depart the Enterprise in less than an hour for a well-deserved shore leave and your sense of urgency increased tenfold with each passing second.

Leonard had never seen you like that before. Hair wild, eyes wide, lip bitten. Each time you cursed loudly and whimpered, he needed to shift in his seat and look away. It didn’t help that you were bending over the couch every few seconds, clawing at the cushions and kneeling to look under the light grey piece of furniture.

When you set your hands against the edge of the couch one last time and bent as you lifted a cushion, he traced the arch of your back, the swell of your bottom, the length of your legs. After what felt like hours, he sighed loudly and covered his lap with a throw pillow. It was all too much.

“Sugar, did you ever think it might not be here?” his voice sounded rougher and heavier even to him. He cleared his throat. “D’you check your own quarters?”

“It’s here, Len,” you said in a breathy voice, moving back so you could kneel.

He really didn’t need you to be kneeling so close to that… region right now. He shifted again.

“I was wearing it last night when I feel asleep—”

“While I was talking.”

You smiled apologetically, your eyes growing wider as you looked up at him. You bit down on your bottom lip again and he thought he might combust. “Did I apologize for that yet?”

“You did,” he nodded, leaning forward to lean his forearms on the pillow in his lap. Your noses were close enough to brush together as he said in a soft voice, “It’s just a necklace.”

You leant away, scoffing. “Don’t show me those stupidly beautiful hazel eyes to try and convince me that finding my necklace isn’t important!”

“They’re not that stupidly beautiful,” he said with a wave of his hand, his smile a little smug. “Darlin’, we ain’t gonna make the last shuttle if you keep this up.”

“I lost a necklace to this thinly cushioned bed of rock, Len! I need to find it! It cost me—” you paused. “Well, it didn’t cost me a lot but it’s mine and I want it back!”

“I’ll buy you a new one, just stop bendin’ over the fuckin’ furniture and get to movin’ off this floatin’ disease incubator.”

six

You were laughing at something you’d just said, your head thrown back and your eyes squeezed shut. Your hand sat atop your stomach and your giggles shook the walls of the room and the walls in Leonard’s chest.

He felt himself begin to laugh as well. It wasn’t because what you said was so funny, it was just the sight of you so full of joy that made the laughter contagious.

When your giggles were far less frequent and far lower in volume, you lifted your head and wiped under your eyes. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t even funny. I don’t know why I amuse myself so much.”

“Somethin’ in the air bein’ circulated might be making you delirious.”

You smiled wider. “Very reasonable suggestion. I should confront Scotty.”

“Yell at him when you do,” he said with a nod. “The man’s terrified of you.”

“Is he really? Good, he should be.”

“He’s just never heard you singin’,” he noted, smiling when you sent him one of the scowls he usually offered you. “He hears you singin’, he’ll never be afraid of you again. Tone deaf as shit.”

“Excuse me? I’m the next Whitney Houston.”

“Next who?”

“It’s classical music, Len. Widen your horizons.”

There was another few minutes of back and forth until the two of you grew silent. It was a comfortable silence during which all he could think about was living in a comfortable silence with you for as long as he had left. However in order for that to be anywhere near possible, he’d have to tell you how he felt. He’d have to get past all the uncertainty forcing him to live in fear from the moment he met you years ago until now, he’d have to break down every wall he’d been building up from the moment he’d filed for divorce until now.

But he felt ready to do it all.

“I might,” he began, sighing and shaking his head to himself. “It’s possible that—” he sighed once more. “I… have feelings for someone on board. Significant feelings. Feelings I thought I wasn’t goin’ to be capable of since my divorce. And they’re— I need to talk about ‘em.”

seven

You nodded— twice. You smiled at him a little.

But you didn’t know what to say. Part of you was afraid to encourage him— he could say something that would break your heart to the point that each beating in your chest would force you to double over. And part of you would have jumped at encouraging him— that part of you thought he could say something that made you feel so full, so whole that any subsequent happiness would seem insignificant.

With some prompting from Jim, you’d begun to realize your feelings for Leonard were never really going to go away. No matter how many people you dated, no matter how many people you convinced yourself to like, those feelings were here to stay.

Maybe it was his kindness, maybe it was his dryness, maybe it was the drawl of his voice— whatever it was, you couldn’t stand the idea of ever kissing someone that wasn’t him, ever saying you were in love with someone that wasn’t him. It all seemed impossible.

When he didn’t speak and only stared at you expectantly, you smiled again. “Who is it? Is it Jim? I saw the hearts in his eyes while you guys ate lunch together.”

“S’not Jim, sweetheart.”

“Is it Uhura?” you asked, nodding upwards. “She’s hot. I mean, you guys barely talk and she is with Spock—”

“Darlin’ —”

“Is it Spock?” your eyes widened. “He’s hot, too. It’s just the whole Uhura thing and the volatility in your relationship—”

With a lean in your direction, he captured your lips with his. One of his hands sat against the side of your face and his other clasped around your hip to prompt your movement.

When the cloudiness in your mind and feeling of finally in your veins subsided a little, you listened and moved to straddle his lap. You sighed into his mouth when his arm wrapped around you tightly, the roughness of his hand against your face combined with the softness of his lips creating a warmth you’d never experienced before.

He broke away first, smiling as you followed his lips and sat back with a pout. “Sorry. I needed you to shut your mouth for a quick second so I—”

“Could’ve just told me to shut up.”

“I practically just did that and you’re still talkin’,” he laughed, shaking his head. He then sighed and searched the depth of your eyes with the eyes that only held a thin ring of hazel around dilated pupils. “In case it’s not obvious enough now, I was talkin’ about you, darlin’. I’m so in love with you.”

#i really really do wish i liked this more #i feel like there isn't enough len which doesn't even make sense but i'm needlessly hard on myself that's just who i am i guess #leonard mccoy #bones #leonard bones mccoy #WHY DOES HE HAVE SO MANY NAMES #bones mccoy #leonard mccoy x reader #bones x reader #bones imagine #leonard mccoy imagine #mccoy imagine #mccoy x reader #star trek imagine #star trek

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soft-jihoonie · 7 years

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I Keep Falling For You - Chapter Three

Chanyeol doesn’t want to be jealous, it’s his least favourite trait that he has. Trying not to be jealous is extremely difficult, however, because the whole damn campus seems to be crushing on Byun Baekhyun, and Chanyeol’s no different.

Chanyeol x Baekhyun - 4K Words - Fluff and Angst

One Two Four Five Six Seven Eight

This is also posted on AO3.

Chanyeol’s very busy the following week, he’s got assignments to focus on and deadlines to meet, making it difficult to see Baekhyun. He does, however, receive quite a few cute texts throughout the week from his crush, who’s obviously still feeling guilty. There’s still a small part of his mind which keeps reminding him of Baekhyun’s actions the previous week, but Chanyeol’s luckily too busy to focus on much more than university, remembering to eat and getting embarrassingly happy over Baekhyun’s texts. He finds himself spending most of his time in the library or at one of the university recording studios, only heading home at a reasonable time due to Kyungsoo calling him up and nagging him to come back for food before he starves. It’s a normal routine for them when Chanyeol gets into work mode, even back when they were doing exams in school, Kyungsoo would be making sure Chanyeol would actually remember to eat at lunch.

He knows neither him or Baekhyun have lectures on Wednesday’s, and he needs a break. So, on Tuesday evening he texts Baekhyun to invite him over for a film day. Baekhyun replies minutes later agreeing to come over, and then follows it up with a text of 'No dressing up, it’ll be a sweatpants day’.

Chanyeol groans out loud at the request, not really a fan of how he looks in lazy day clothing. He figures Baekhyun probably won’t care after how he’d looked at the meal the other week, and uses that thought to convince himself it’ll be okay.

The next morning, Chanyeol gets up a lot earlier than he usually would on his day off. He finds Kyungsoo in the kitchen, looking confused as to why Chanyeol is awake. When Chanyeol doesn’t provide an answer whilst pouring himself some cereal, Kyungsoo says, “Okay, why the hell are you awake at 8 am on your day off?”

Chanyeol moves to get the milk from the fridge as he says, “Baekhyun’s coming over for a film day at like 10.”

“A film day? You mean you’re going to spend the day being all grossly cuddly and flirty.”

Chanyeol sighs, pouring his milk as he replies, “No Kyungsoo, we’re just gonna watch films and relax, nothing more.”

Kyungsoo follows him to the table with his coffee, voice mocking as he says, “No Kyungsoo, we’re just going to be totally gay as we watch films, nothing more.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, ignoring Kyungsoo’s jab in favour of eating his cereal. Not a fan of silence though, he’s soon starting a conversation with his best friend about what had happened in last nights episode of their favourite tv show.

Once Chanyeol’s finished eating and washed his bowl and spoon, he heads upstairs to get ready. He has a quick shower, towel drying his hair and forgoing styling it even though he so badly wants to. He gets changed into some sweatpants and a loose tank top and, although he’s not happy with his appearance, he’s determined to pull through with Baekhyun’s request.

He heads back downstairs to kill time before Baekhyun comes over, ignoring Kyungsoo’s loud remark of, “Park Chanyeol not dressing up for Baekhyun? Are you feeling okay?”

He lays down on the couch as Kyungsoo says, “You’re being no fun this morning, respond to my teasing.”

Chanyeol shifts to look at Kyungsoo as he says, “Stop teasing me on my day off, you’re such a meanie.”

“A meanie?”

“Yes, a meanie, Kyungsoo. You’re a big meanie.”

“Okay, nice to know I live with a 6-year-old. Anyway, I need to go to uni, have fun with your non-gay film day.”

Chanyeol flips Kyungsoo off from where he’s lying, but he still calls out, “Have a good day.” He’s a good best friend, he swears.

He sticks on the tv to fill the silence once Kyungsoo’s left, scrolling through Facebook on his phone to kill time until Baekhyun arrives. Eventually, the doorbell rings and Chanyeol feels embarrassed by how quickly he stands. He makes himself take a deep breath before heading into the hallway, wanting to seem calm when he opens the door.

He opens it, and before he can say anything or fully register how Baekhyun looks, Baekhyun is shouting out, “Oh come on! How is that fair?”

Chanyeol startles at this, confusion covering his face as he asks, “How is what fair?”, and steps aside for Baekhyun to come in.

Baekhyun heads into the hallway as he explains, “How is it fair that you still look good when you’re not even trying?”

Chanyeol finally checks out Baekhyun, the smaller wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. He wonders how Baekhyun can still look like a model as he responds, “I could say the same to you.”

Baekhyun follows Chanyeol into the living room as he exclaims, “But you look good with messy hair! My hair would’ve looked terrible if I hadn’t styled it.”

Chanyeol shoots him a playful glare as he sits on the couch and says, “Hey! You said no dressing up.”

Baekhyun smirks, dropping down next to Chanyeol and saying, “Oops, I guess I cheated.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes as his says, “Betray my trust, that’s fine, whatever.”

Shoving Chanyeol lightly, Baekhyun says, “Shut up, like you didn’t consider styling your hair, I'm impressed you didn’t.”

Chanyeol’s lips morph into a small smile before he quickly covers it up and says, “Whatever, you pick a movie whilst I go grab a blanket.” Baekhyun agrees, and as Chanyeol is leaving the room to head upstairs, he calls out, “And don’t you dare pick a horror movie.”

When he returns with a blanket from his room, he finds Baekhyun on the couch with the start screen for Marley and Me on the tv. He dumps the blanket on Baekhyun as he says, “No. You know I'll cry.”

Baekhyun grins, patting the spot on the couch next to him as he says, “You said no horror films, and it’s not real anyway.”

Sitting next to Baekhyun and tugging part of the blanket over his legs, he whines out, “It's a true story Baek.”

Baekhyun feigns shock before saying, “Oh. Well when you cry real tears, I'll give you real cuddles. How's that for a true story?"

Chanyeol pouts but responds, “Fine, whatever, just press play.”

Baekhyun does as he’s told, and once he’s placed the remote down, he curls his legs up onto the couch and leans into Chanyeol’s side. Chanyeol stiffens at first, staring straight forwards at the screen and trying to focus on the movie.

Baekhyun tugs Chanyeol’s arm to wrap around his shoulders and mumbles, “Just relax, will you?”, and Chanyeol forces himself to un-tense. Soon his focus is fully on the film, and only part of his mind strays to thinking about how right it feels with Baekhyun curled into his side.

Sure enough, the first sad part of the film arrives, and Chanyeol finds himself sniffing in an attempt to not cry. Baekhyun smiles at him fondly, softly saying, “It’s okay, you can cry. I won’t tease you till tomorrow.”

Chanyeol chokes out a little laugh but finds tears rolling down his cheeks moments later. Baekhyun just cuddles further into Chanyeol’s side, reaching over to intertwine their fingers and rub his thumb along the side of Chanyeol’s hand.

The tears do stop, but when the film ends with a sad ending, Chanyeol finds himself crying all over again, even though he has seen the film before. Baekhyun giggles at him, wiping away Chanyeol’s tears as he says, “Come here, you big baby.”

Chanyeol whines out, “You said you wouldn’t tease me till tomorrow”, but leans into Baekhyun’s touch anyway. He’s sure he looks terrible, face puffy from crying, but Baekhyun has nothing but a fond smile on his face as he pulls Chanyeol into a hug.

When he leans back, he grins cheekily and says, “So, next film... How about Up?”

“No! No more sad films, I am done crying.”

Baekhyun laughs, ruffling Chanyeol’s hair as he says,“Fine, I'll find some comedy”, and starts flicking through the comedy’s on Netflix.

Chanyeol tries to be subtle as he lets his gaze fall onto Baekhyun, smiling at how soft and cuddly he looks. He’s quick to look back at the screen when Baekhyun says, “How about this one?”, and he barely registers what film it is as he agrees.

Baekhyun starts the film and assumes his previous position curled into Chanyeol’s side. Five minutes in, however, he’s shifting uncomfortably until he finally says, “This isn’t comfortable enough, lie down.”

Chanyeol stares down at Baekhyun in confusion as he responds, “What?”

“I said lie down. I want to lie down and I can’t do so if you’re still sitting up.”

Chanyeol laughs lightly as he says, “Baek, there’s no way we can both fit on this couch lying down.”

Baekhyun frowns in thought for a moment, clearly determined to come up with a solution, before he says, “Well then I'll just have to lie on top of you.”

“What?”

Baekhyun smirks, voice teasing as he says, “What? Are you scared of a little man on man touching?”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, shifting to lie down instead of answering the question, and Baekhyun follows suit moments later. Baekhyun tangles their legs together and rests his head on Chanyeol’s chest, mumbling out, “Put your arm around me, it’ll be comfier.” Chanyeol does as he’s told and hopes Baekhyun can’t hear how fast his heart is beating in his chest.

It’s too awkward an angle for Chanyeol to watch the film, so he lets his eyes trace Baekhyun’s facial features instead and admire how soft he looks. Soon, with the warmth of Baekhyun against his body and the sound of Baekhyun softly laughing, Chanyeol finds himself drifting to sleep.

He’s woken up to Baekhyun softly snoring against his chest and Kyungsoo smirking down at him, the film no longer playing. After Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything, Chanyeol says, “What? Why are you smirking at me?”

Kyungsoo’s smirk turns into an amused grin as he says, “Yeah okay, just watching a movie, nothing gay about this at all.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes and responds, “You’re acting like we’ve never fallen asleep watching a film together.”

Kyungsoo gestures at them as he says, “We have, but not like this.” His smirk returns as he continues, “Are you going to wake him up?”

Chanyeol just shakes his head as he softly says, “He looks cute, and he's cuddling me, why would I wake him?”

Kyungsoo laughs, murmuring, “You’re so whipped”, before heading out of the living room and upstairs, leaving Chanyeol alone with a sleeping Baekhyun.

About 10 minutes pass before Baekhyun finally stirs, and Chanyeol’s first instinct is to move so they’re not in such a questionable position. Baekhyun just tightens his arm around Chanyeol’s waist, however, sleepily mumbling, “You’re warm, don’t move.”

Baekhyun’s hair had gotten mussed up in his sleep clearly, and Chanyeol laughs softly as he says, “Y’know, you’re wrong.”

“About what?”

“Your hair doesn’t look terrible unstyled, messy hair looks cute on you actually.”

Baekhyun fully stirs at this, rising to sit as his hands fly up to fix his hair. Chanyeol laughs softly, teasing Baekhyun for caring so much about his looks, even though he knows he’s being a hypocrite.

As Baekhyun gets more frustrated with his messy hair in his sleepy state, Chanyeol rises to sit as well and laughs out, “Okay, come here.” Baekhyun pouts but moves to face Chanyeol, allowing the taller to smooth down his hair until it looks less like he’s just woken up.

They sit there for a moment, eyes locked, before Baekhyun’s phone starts ringing and startles the two of them. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Baekhyun mumbles, “It’s Jongdae”, and answers the call.

Chanyeol watches Baekhyun’s free hand trace a pattern on the couch as he talks, not wanting to interrupt or get involved. After around 5 minutes, Baekhyun hangs up and says, “Jongdae asked me to head into uni to get something from one of his lecturer's since he can’t right now. It’s okay if I go, right?”

Chanyeol nods quickly, smiling as he says, “Yeah, of course, thank you for coming round anyway.” Baekhyun smiles softly back before moving to grab his discarded hoodie from the floor, pulling it back on.

Chanyeol walks him to the door, hugging Baekhyun goodbye and saying, “I'll see you around, yeah? Call me if you need anything.”

Baekhyun grins, responding, “Yeah, of course, thank you for today”, before opening the door and heading out.

Chanyeol watches him leave before shutting the door, heading into the living room to grab his blanket and take it back upstairs. He decides to continue working on an assignment he’s got due, smiling softly as he thinks about the day whilst starting up his laptop.

He’s spending his Friday evening in the studio when one of his lecturers knocks on the door and asks him to come to her office. Chanyeol’s not too worried as he follows her, she’s easily his favourite lecturer and he knows his work has been up to standard recently. He takes a seat across from her once they get to her office and she smiles warmly at him, allowing Chanyeol to relax fully.

She goes on to bring up the work placement she had mentioned the previous week, explaining what it would entail in further detail. It’s a good offer, working as an assistant to a producer at a high-end recording company. Apparently, the producer had heard some of his work and requested him, which Chanyeol finds very hard to believe. The official paperwork is all there in front of him though, and his lecturer explains that the university is willing to let this go towards his grades instead of assignments and exams he’ll inevitably miss out on.

He knows he should say yes, shouldn’t deny such an amazing opportunity, but the recording company is on the other side of town and the idea of being away from friends for months has him hesitating. Seeing his hesitation, his lecturer passes him the paperwork and details, telling him to think it over and get back to her by the end of next week.

Chanyeol returns to the recording studio to collect his bag and save his work, plans to continue working ruined by the flurry of thoughts in his mind. He finds himself heading out of university automatically, his mind not focusing on where he’s going but his feet taking him there anyway.

He only realises his phone’s ringing about half way through his ringtone and he scrambles to answer it without looking at who’s calling. It’s only when he hears a quiet voice say, “Chanyeol?”, that he realises it’s Baekhyun and his feet halt to a stop.

He quickly asks, “Baekhyun? Are you okay?”, and all thoughts about the work placement disappear from his mind.

It’s strange to hear Baekhyun so quiet as he says, “Jongdae’s gone home to see his family this week and I just really don’t want to be alone right now.”

Before Baekhyun can even continue, Chanyeol’s blurting out, “I'll be there in 10 minutes”, his feet turning him round to head in the direction of Baekhyun’s flat.

Baekhyun lets out a sound of surprise before saying, “Thank you Chanyeol, thank you so much.”

Chanyeol smiles softly at this, asking, “Did you want me to get anything?”, as he remembers the corner shop he’ll have to pass to get to Baekhyun’s.

Baekhyun just replies with a soft, “No, nothing, I just need you”, and Chanyeol can’t stop a large grin from forming on his lips.

He quickly replies, “Don’t worry, I'll be there soon.” He allows Baekhyun to end the call, not wanting to accidentally upset him more.

He sends Kyungsoo a quick text to let him know that he won’t be back for dinner, feet speeding up partly to get out of the cold air but mainly to get to Baekhyun faster. He reaches Baekhyun’s street and speeds up to a jog, reminiscent of the previous time Baekhyun needed him but trying to push the thoughts from his mind.

He reaches Baekhyun’s flat and presses the button to alert Baekhyun he’s here, a little worried when Baekhyun buzzes him in without even checking it’s him first. He rushes up the stairs, taking two at a time, and quickly arrives at Baekhyun and Jongdae’s door. He knocks loudly and strains to hear footsteps approaching the door, relaxing slightly when he hears the sound of the door being unlocked.

The door opens to reveal a tired looking Baekhyun and Chanyeol quickly envelops him in a hug, rocking him slightly as Baekhyun clings onto his t-shirt. He pulls away to close the door, but when Baekhyun doesn’t let go of him after closing it, he brings him back into a tight hug. They stand there like that for a minute or two before Chanyeol leans back again and says, “It’s okay, I'm here, let’s move away from the door.”

Baekhyun finally lets go of his shirt but reaches for Chanyeol’s hand to pull him towards the couch. Chanyeol doesn’t miss the opened bottle of wine sitting on the coffee table next to a glass of wine as he’s pulled down to sit next to Baekhyun.

He turns to Baekhyun, eyebrows raising as he says, “You’re drinking?”

Baekhyun’s face lights up as he says, “Let me get you a glass too”, and he’s rushing off to the kitchen before Chanyeol can respond. He places the glass down in front of Chanyeol, falling back onto the couch and picking up his own glass.

Chanyeol picks up the half empty bottle, turning back to Baekhyun to say, “Did you just open this tonight?”

Baekhyun nods and whines out, “Drink with me Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol considers for a moment that he should probably stay sober if Baekhyun is close to being drunk, but he’s had a tiring week so he thinks fuck it and pours himself a glass. He settles back onto the couch, letting Baekhyun curl up against his side as the two of them take sips of their wine.

His free hand comes up to run his fingers through Baekhyun’s hair as he softly says, “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

Baekhyun leans into his touch as he mumbles out, “Jongdae left on Monday. I don’t actually know when he’ll be back and I've been pretty lonely.”

Chanyeol hums, drinking from his glass before saying, “Did you not invite anyone else over? Usually, you’d have someone over each night.”

He’s hoping he doesn’t come off sounding bitter and luckily Baekhyun doesn’t notice because he presses closer to Chanyeol’s side and says, “It didn’t feel right to have anyone else around.”

Chanyeol turns to look at Baekhyun as he says, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? You know I would’ve come to see you”, and he watches as Baekhyun reaches to pour himself another glass.

Baekhyun fills up the glass almost to the top as he responds, “I mean you invited me round on Wednesday. Plus I saw Sehun at the cafe and he told me that you had a load of work to do this week. He was very sarcastic.”

He pouts as Chanyeol passes him his half full glass, taking Baekhyun’s from him and sipping it before he can stop him. Still pouting, he whines out, “Do Sehun and Kyungsoo hate me?”, before taking a sip from the glass Chanyeol had given to him.

Shaking his head, he pats Baekhyun’s leg and says, “Of course not, they’re just protective of me, they seem to forget I'm an adult.”

Baekhyun laughs at that, grinning as he says, “Well you do look like a child”, and Chanyeol accepts the teasing because it’s got Baekhyun smiling again.

The two of them decide on a movie to watch and Chanyeol feels himself getting tipsy as he tries to drink more so that Baekhyun will slow down on his drinking. It’s at this point that he decides to take the wine away, ignoring Baekhyun’s protests as he makes his way to the kitchen slowly, realising just how tipsy he is when he stands.

He makes his way back to the couch, sitting down beside Baekhyun who says, “You can’t leave me again, you’re warm.”

Chanyeol lets out a laugh, mumbles out, “You’re ridiculous”, but still allows Baekhyun to curl up against his side.

The two of them settle into a comfortable position and Chanyeol refocuses on the movie. He realises 10 minutes later that instead of focusing on the film, Baekhyun’s staring at him and has been staring at him since he’d sat back down.

He looks down at his crush, raising his eyebrows as if to silently ask him what he’s doing. He’s not sure if Baekhyun understands this, but the smaller boy still says, “You’re very pretty, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol can feel his cheeks turning red as he coughs out, “Thank you, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun pouts as he leans closer to Chanyeol’s face, eyes searching his for a moment before saying, “What about me? Am I pretty?”

Chanyeol smiles warmly at his crush as he says, “Of course you are, Baekhyun. There’s no one prettier.”

Baekhyun’s face lights up as he scrambles into Chanyeol’s lap, straddling him easily like he’s always meant to be there. Chanyeol tries hard not to think about how much he wants Baekhyun to slide closer to him, forces his hands not to reach out for Baekhyun’s waist. Baekhyun shuffles around a little, getting comfortable, not noticing the flush on Chanyeol’s cheeks.

He finally settles and plants his hands on Chanyeol’s shoulders, cocking his head to one side as he says, “Pretty people always get kissed in movies, don’t they?”

Chanyeol feels his heart rate pick up as he mumbles, “They do.”

Baekhyun, seemingly pleased with this answer, leans closer ever so slightly. One of his hands playfully tugs at Chanyeol’s hair as he says, “If I'm pretty, then don’t I deserve to be kissed too?”

Alarm bells ring in Chanyeol’s mind but he can’t stop himself from responding, “Of course”, and letting his hands rest on Baekhyun’s waist. Baekhyun slides himself closer to Chanyeol’s torso, a hand coming up to cup Chanyeol’s chin as he stares at Chanyeol’s lips.

His eyes travel back up to meet Chanyeol’s as he says, “You think I'm pretty, so surely you want to kiss me then?”

Baekhyun’s tongue comes out to lick his lips and Chanyeol can’t help himself, he closes the gap between them and kisses Baekhyun. It’s just a soft press of lips at first but when Baekhyun eagerly kisses back, the kiss deepens. Baekhyun’s tongue pushes into Chanyeol’s mouth, fighting to gain the upper hand between them. Soon both of Baekhyun’s hands are in Chanyeol’s hair and Chanyeol’s pretty sure he’s forgotten how to breathe because this is really happening, he’s really kissing Byun Baekhyun.

He lightly bites Baekhyun’s lip, earning him a low moan from Baekhyun before he leans back to look at him. The both of them are breathless and Chanyeol sort of feels like he’s in a dream. He squeezes Baekhyun’s hips under his hands just to check that he’s really here and this is really happening. Baekhyun looks so beautiful, his lips darkened from kissing and his eyes looking at Chanyeol endearingly, waiting to see what he’ll do next.

The movie plays on in the background but all of Chanyeol’s focus is on the boy shuffling slightly in his lap, Baekhyun clearly itching for something more. Chanyeol knows now isn’t the right time, he knows even kissing wasn’t a good idea with Baekhyun in a fragile state. Baekhyun looks so beautiful though and all Chanyeol can think about is how much he loves him, how he wants to kiss Baekhyun over and over again. He wants to shout to the whole world about his love and he sort of wants to take a photo of Baekhyun like this, breathless and eager.

He takes a deep breath, thumbs rubbing at Baekhyun’s hips as he says, “Baekhyun, I like you. No, I love you, I love you so much and I can’t hide it anymore.”

#fanfiction #chanbaek #baekyeol #exo #chanyeol #baekhyun #kyungsoo #jongdae #chen #d.o #university au #exo fanfiction #chanbaek fanfic

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