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parkerpeter24 · 4 months

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be alright

i’m sorry i really had my exams 😭 and i couldn’t write in december, but soon i am hoping to post winter blurbs

pairing ➳ tasm!peter x reader.

warnings: heavy angst. like forced kissing and a bit of grabbing.

masterlist

“it’s like you’re never here.” your voice came out shaky. it felt like the cold outside had gotten to you even through the closed window of your room and the radiator going in the room didn’t make you feel warm anymore.

december always felt like a lonely month to you, with your exams approaching and having no plans for christmas or the new year. it always felt unfair that your family got to enjoy while you stressed about your exams. but when you met peter, a little voice inside you told you that this year would be different.

you’d been dating for ten months now and it felt so natural with peter. he was always there for you, always holding your hand, always looking out for anything you needed, always helping you with your homework and your studies, always bringing you coffee.

until he wasn’t.

it stopped by the last of november. maybe it was the stress of all his college projects or maybe he was busy taking pictures to submit in hopes of finding a new job. you told yourself everything was fine for a month but now it wasn’t water under the bridge anymore. now all the avoided calls and the lack of his ‘good morning, beautiful’s had gotten to you.

so, in your state of desperation, you went to the only reliable source to reach peter. his aunt, may.

and it had worked.

when you looked up from your study and found your spandex clad boyfriend knocking at your window, you got up quickly and ran to open it. a little spark igniting in your chest and the voice told you that everything will be okay, finally.

peter climbed in and took off his mask, “you complained about me to may?” were his immediate words. his voice was no sort of sweet like you had expected and wished it to be, “what am i, a child?”

your mouth opened and closed, then opened again and then it closed. peter gave you a look of exasperation, making you frown. you watched him run a hand over his face as he shivered a little, the mix of cold from outside and the heat in your room getting to him.

the room felt eerily silent for a few seconds.

“i didn’t know how else to reach you.” you mumbled.

“just text me.” he sighed and turned to face you as you walked towards your desk, closing your notebooks, placing your pen on the last page you were writing on.

“i texted you hundreds of times!” your voice sounded rushed, “you never answer!”

“don’t you think that means i’m busy?” peter argued. you felt guilt rise and clench your heart in your chest. he sighed, “i was going to text you, but i was busy.”

“it’s like you’re never here.”

and that’s how the fight started. it felt like a fight. it felt like peter was throwing harsh words and pushing you away. you knew his tendency to do so when he thought he was doing something wrong. he knew he didn’t give you enough time and it got to him, and he took it out on no one other than yourself.

“that’s because i’m out there trying to save people.” he pointed a hand towards the window and you gulped, “i’ve got a lot on my plate.”

“so do i, peter.” you pleaded, your voice shrill, “i wish i wasn’t missing you so much but i do. i feel selfish for missing my own boyfriend, how’s that fair?!”

“i’m not trying to make you feel like that, you have to understand my responsibility towards the city-”

“yes, you have great responsibility! i know.” you gulped, watching his face harden. he looked colder, nothing like your peter. you tried again, “i know what you feel about the city… but don’t you think you’re overdoing it?”

he blinked, “overdoing it?”

“peter, you have a life outside spider-man.” you tried to reason with him, taking a step towards him. his brown locks looked so soft and you wished you could run your fingers through them.

“and you want that life to revolve around you.” he rolled his eyes, speaking matter of factly. his words may have been spoken in the heat of the moment, to you it felt well-thought. it felt like peter was slowly twisting the knife that had pierced through your heart.

“i didn’t say that.” you mumbled, feeling your eyes brim with tears. he avoided looking at your face. he knew that if he looked into your eyes, he would break. he would fall down to his knees and cry his heart out. and he couldn’t afford to do that right now.

“it felt like you wanted to.”

to you, it felt like both of you were trying to blame the other for everything that felt wrong. you wanted to throw your thickest history book at him but you also wanted to hold onto him and cry until all the stress you felt vanished away. you wanted to pull at your hair in frustration but you also wanted his soft hands running through your hair, comforting you.

but it was hard to realise the good things when you hadn’t seen the person you care most about in a month and he was not even trying to be civil. so you pushed those thoughts aside and retaliated.

“there was a time before spider-man.”

peter’s eyes snapped towards your face, cold and venomous, “what?”

“there was a time. when there was no spider-man. and the city was carrying on just fine!” your vision was blurred, jaw clenched as you finished, breathing harshly. your nails dug into the palm of your hands as you clenched your fists.

peter stood there, looking at you unbelievably. he was almost shaking from how tense his whole body was. you gulped, almost opening your mouth in an apology but before you could, peter’s voice reached your ears, hoarse and deep, “you said you missed me?”

you took a step back, intimidated by the way he was looking down at you. peter was taller than you but it had always been an intimate thing between the two of you. you liked being the ‘big’ spoon and he liked teasing you about it. but in this moment, it felt like he was a predator, staring down at his pray.

“pete-” you thought you could reason with him about this whole argument. about how stupid it was but he was taking fast steps to fill the distance between the two of you until you felt his breath of your face, “p-peter…”

“well, here i am.” he said, instantly grabbing the back of your neck, making you gasp as he pressed his lips harshly against yours. your hand instinctively flew to the back of his head as his lips mingled with yours. it didn’t start like the other times, it wasn’t sweet. it was rushed, and messy. your salty tears mixed into the kiss and peter’s hand in your hair tightened, pulling at it. you whimpered, but he didn’t stop. his other hand traveled to your hip, squeezing it with force, holding you against him.

you knew it was going to bruise badly in a few hours. he had trapped you between the desk and himself and even though it felt like he was violating all your space, you kissed him back, you tried to hold on to him. tried to calm him down but it didn’t feel like he was in charge of himself anymore.

you tried to push at his chest but you knew it was not gonna help. he was way too stronger against your normal human strength. you felt peter bite at your lip and you gasped at his harsh behaviour, feeling the copper taste fill your mouth when his tongue pushed past your lips. your fist collided with his chest once, trying to make him stop as more tears slid down your face.

you felt yourself sob when peter finally pulled back, but only to pull your hair, prompting your head to tilt backwards. his lips trailed over your neck, down to your collarbone.

“peter, stop!” you cried, trying to push him away from you, your hands hitting his shoulder, trying to snap him back to reality. his teeth dug into your skin and you gasped, “stop.”

you felt your knees buckle, trying to push him away and when peter finally looked up at your face he realised.

he finally realised what he was doing. his grip immediately loosened on your hair, and your hip. and your head sprang forward to reveal your busted lip, his doing. he was holding on to you, this time to stop you from falling down and as were you, hands clutching on to the wooden edge of your study desk.

you looked lost and peter looked petrified as he couldn’t catch your eyes even though he was looking right at them, “baby…”

watching you try to regain your posture, peter felt your hand still pressing against his chest to push him away and he backed off, letting you stand on your own, “i’m so… sorry.” he mumbled, feeling his eyes fill with tears as he watched you wipe your own.

you turned around, your back towards him. he couldn’t move, just staring at you back as he felt his heart fall to the pit of his stomach. he knew he deserved it. he wished you’d yell at him, hit him, do something so he knew how wrong he was. not like he didn’t already know.

“you should go.” your voice was so quiet. so quiet that if he wasn’t spider-man, he wouldn’t have heard it. but he listened to you. last thing he wanted to do right now was ignore you and end up hurting you more than he had for the last month. especially today.

he picked up his mask and you heard the shuffling of his feet. you heard the window slide open and you heard it close. and you heard the ‘thwip’ that took him away from you.

“and i was wondering if you’d clean out the back, you know the boxes and everything that’s clogging the garage entrance…” may trailed off, looking at her nephew who was in turn busy staring at his phone, “peter?”

the old lady placed a hand on her nephew’s shoulder when he didn’t respond, “peter.”

his head snapped towards her, eyes looking tired as ever as he locked his phone, sliding it in the pocket of his jacket, “sorry, i-”

“we don’t have to do this today.” she smiled at him kindly, “i’m sure miles would be okay with helping me. you could use some rest.”

“no, no, i got this.” peter stood up, “it’ll… it’ll keep me distracted.”

may nodded and started telling him all the things she needed cleared out from her garage. she was getting her house renovated, hoping to put a room on rent. it never hurt to have a few extra bucks in hand.

peter followed the instructions, sorting out stuff from the old boxes into the new ones so they could be donated or stored in better condition.

it had been five weeks since he saw your face after the way he left it. he was sure the bruises would be gone by now, at least the physical ones. he sighed and tried to focus on the task at hand but his mind kept wandering back to his phone screen. all the texts he’s sent and the way you hadn’t read them. he was surprised that you didn’t block him because he would have, if he was in the position you were in.

it was january now but peter knew your exams were still going on. he gave you as much space as you needed. however, it didn’t feel like new year without you. without your laughter, there was nothing happy about the new year for him. he tore his eyes away from the screen again and got back to the work. it was going to take way longer than expected if he kept letting his mind wander.

brushing his hands together when he was done, peter made his way inside the house through the garage door. he carried the box with the items may was going to donate.

he walked to the living area but the sudden sight of you standing in his aunt’s house made the box drop from his hands, the (thankfully) metal objects clanged against the polished wooden floor.

peter’s mouth opened, then closed– partly in disbelief, and partly in perplexity. his heart was hammering in his chest as he took a step towards you. for a minute he thought he was hallucinating. his desperation of getting another chance to just talk to you was getting to his head.

it was not until he reached right in front of you, less than five feet apart, and all breath knocked out of his lungs, that he spoke, “you’re… here.”

he was relieved when you responded, “i am.” you nodded almost formally, “i was here to donate some clothes. may asked.”

“oh.” he mumbled, nodding back at you in acknowledgement.

there was a moment where no one spoke. neither of you knew how to, or what to, talk about in this moment. the door to the house was closed but somehow peter felt a gust of wind flow– maybe he left the garage door opened– but that was last of his worries.

“so…” he started quietl, “how are your exams going?”

“good. good. well enough.” you shrugged, “today was the last one actually… so i thought why not clear out my closet too.”

“that sounds nice.” a small smile appeared over his face.

now as the two of you stood in front of each other, it felt like there was nothing else to talk about except for the elephant in the room.

“about our fight…” you started at the same time as peter.

“you look better.”

then both of you went quiet at the same time.

“you go first.”

peter nodded, “i know what i did was unforgivable. i’m not gonna ask you to forgive me. b-but i will keep apologising for it. i will try to make up to you if you let me.” he rushed through his thoughts. you could tell he was being sincere even though his eyes didn’t meet yours. then he surveyed the surroundings, quietly mumbling to you, “it was the lizard. everything was so crazy and i almost got killed and i didn’t want you to worry so i tried to push you away. and my head was going in circles it…”

peter quieted down when he felt you close the gap between the two of you. your arms wrapped around his shoulders and peter froze. until he realised that he should hug you back. a soft sigh left him as soon as his arms were around you and he realised how much he’d missed this.

“i missed this.” you mumbled, as if reading his thoughts.

“i missed this too. i’m sorry i hurt you. a lot.” peter pressed a kiss to your hairline and you closed your eyes, reveling in the feeling for as long as you could.

“i know you didn’t mean to.” you looked up at him when you parted from the hug, “i was really stressed too. i shouldn’t have said things about spider-man. i know how much it means to you and i don’t even know how this city was lucky enough to have a guy like you looking after it. i guess i got jealous.” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

peter gave you a smile, “you know you come before everything for me.”

you smiled in return, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it once, “so then… i’ll get going.”

“oh.” peter sighed, disappointment clear in his voice, “can i…” you waited for him to finish his sentence, “take you out on a date?”

you smiled slightly, relieved to find the same old boy you used to love after what felt like an excruciatingly long time and for a moment, as you nodded ‘yes’ to his question, it felt like everything will after all, be alright.

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unfriedough · 11 months

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Hello!! I have a request, Zuko and Y/N are married, fire lord and lady, yada yada yada and after 5 years of marriage, they have been trying to have a child. Then they give up and start to drift away from each other, and Y/N had high hopes of having a family with him that she started considering adoption, he fully supports her but then she became sick, she finds out that she’s pregnant (they still adopt a child hehe) Have a nice day!!!

‘The heir’- Zuko x female!reader

Masterlist <3

An: “how dare she have the nerve to disappear for this long?” I HAD A MAJOR BLOCK OKAY? 😢 exams are over tho which is chill

SOOOO SORRY I took this long, life gets busy but still, thank you so much for ur requests and ofc ur patience. I wrote a good chunk of this at like about 3 am so feel free to lmk if there’s mistakes.

Summary:

After years of being together, not being able to conceive was really taking a toll on your picture perfect relationship

Warnings: not being able to have a baby, children(?)

A single day blanket connecting you and your husband in the dark room, the candle light long abandoned as you both laid staring at the high ceiling. There was so much to say, and yet, neither of you found the words. And so you sat in silence.

You’d been trying to conceive for what felt like ages, and as of recently, it’s been taking a toll on your relationship. Neither of you meant for it to- but you found it was almost inevitable for you two. And so there you were, feeling foreign in your own home, words exchanged with Zuko were short due to his busy schedule, and by the time he’d come to bed, you’d be out like a light.

“You’re not usually up at this hour,” he remarked, turning his head to you. Your eyes had adjusted to the moonlight and his face was relatively clear.

“What, waiting to sneak out?” You jerked a brow, lips adorning a smile.

“Where would I even go?” The fire bender stretched, suppressing a yawn.

You shrugged, sitting up on the bed and resting your back on the headrest.

“How’re you not tired?” His eyes struggled and fought to stay open. You reached a hand and stroked his hair back from his face.

“I’m not sure, go to bed Zuko,”

“Can’t a man spend time with his wife,” he breathed out.

“Not at this hour,” you mumbled.

He smiled softly, bringing your hand back to his hair, humming as you scratched his scalp. It was in peaceful, domestic moments like this when you felt you were actually married, and actually in love. He rolled over, back facing you, body beginning to doze off into a deep slumber. You rested your head on the back board, sighing as you willed a wink of sleep to hint at your body. Your eyes trailed around the room, from the messy desk to the clean vanity, you always found yourself staring back at the window. As you became entranced with the stars, you felt goosebumps on your skin. The window was closed- so it couldn’t be that. Then again, insulation in the fire nation sucks, and the winters were harsh. You extracted your hand, carefully stepping out of bed to inspect the heaters. You tiptoed out before allowing your socked feet to walk normally across the expanse of the hallway. You breathed out a sigh, humming as you trailed one hand on the walls. You felt another shiver, and you became more frantic in your search- fire nation nightwear seemingly catered to the summer heat. By the time you reached the boiler room, you were shivering, shakily grabbing the handle to allow yourself into the confinement. You rolled your eyes, the machine was sneezing and coughing, your watchful gaze studying its movements.

“I’m not a handyman,” you scowled, nearing it to inspect more clearly.

Dust and grime built up from years of not renewing it, turns out royalty can be pretty lazy. You shuddered again, curling in on yourself. Defeatedly, you kicked the machine, which seemed to stop its sputtering entirely.

“Useless thing,” you groaned, walking out.

You were thankful for your socks at least, but maybe a pair of gloves would’ve been handy- at this rate, you would freeze to death. A sour look on your face and a slouch on your frame escorted you back to your room. When you pushed open the door, you found Zuko standing there, also about to open the door.

“Why are you awake?” You asked, still folding your arms.

“Why're you not in bed?”

“Heater’s busted, some of us aren’t natural fireplaces,” you rolled your eyes playfully.

“Give me your hands,”

“Okay,”

When your hands collided, you felt instant relief as the walking boiler used his powers to microwave your hands.

“Thanks,” you breathed out, and he smiled softly.

He led you back to the bed, before searching through the closet for spare blankets - none of which were present right now. Due to them recently being used by guests, they were in the wash, so you were stuck with the light fire nation palace covers.

“Sorry,” he scrunched his face in worry, joining you in bed.

You just sighed, trying to cuddle up into the blanket. Seemingly out of nowhere, he pulled you against his chest, ‘spooning’ you. You groaned at the sudden warmth, pushing your body further into his.

“You’re freezing,” he remarked.

“Really? Didn’t notice.”

“Ha ha.” He rolled his eyes.

His hands moved up and down on your arm, leaving a trail of heat in their path.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Your husband mumbled- almost sounding disappointed.

“I mean- I was just inspecting,,” although you knew he was watching you, you avoided his gaze.

He sat up suddenly, resting on one arm while the other remained on your body, “You were never gonna wake me up were you?”

Silence.

“Are you mad at me?”

You looked backwards, questioning whether or not you should tell the truth. You paused, sliding your tongue along your teeth

“Your silence is enough of an answer, what’s wrong?”

“Zuko you’ve just been so distant- things aren’t the same between us and I just don’t get it,” you mumbled, turning over to face him and shoving your face into a pillow.

“Yn,”

“I’m not crazy Zuko, and I’m so over being forgotten- if you’ve got something to say, say it now.” You say up, glaring at him.

“The meeting are-“

“Oh don’t hit me with the meeting like you always do! I go to meetings too! You don’t see me ignoring everyone around me huh? Do you?”

“YN let me speak,”

“Why should I? So I can get another lame excuse? Or what? An insincere apo-“ you suddenly doubled over, covering your mouth as you gagged harshly.

Quickly, you got to your feet and landed in the restroom, throwing up what felt like all your intestines in the bowl. Zuko panicked, struggling to figure out how to help, when he settled on getting you a towel and sitting next to you.

You groaned, resting your head back on the wall, hugging your body with one arm while the other used a towel to dry your face.

“Did you eat something weird?”

“Not that I know of,”

“Can I explain myself now?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yn, I’ve been getting bashed at practically every meeting by some general because I don’t have an heir yet- truth is they’ve kinda been on my back about it and I guess I’ve been taking it out on you. I’ve just been so worked up, trying to find a solution whilst keeping the peace I just forgot about how you might’ve felt. I’m really sorry Yn.”

You stared at him, mouth agape.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,”

You say in silence for a little, trying to digest this information.

“A-and if your up for it, I think we could try adoption?”

“But wouldn’t the sages be even more annoyed, I mean it’s not your blood right?”

“They don’t have a right to be mad right? They said get a kid so I’ll get a kid what more?”

“Fair enough,” you giggled.

He leaned over, kissing the top of your head, then helping you up to your feet. You stumbled back into the bedroom, drowning in the warmth he provided. Things felt like they were diffusing, and hey, maybe they’d even go back to normal.

After the morning groups and talks, you and Zuko met up with each other to visit a nearby adoption agency. Once you explained the situation, the lady was ever so helpful, providing insight on each child, what life would be like, what to expect and everything of the likes. After the contract wore your name, you and your husband were matched with a gentle, sweet and social child named Lee. The little boy was 5, with soft features that sort of resembled Zuko. The following week, you were visited by a few men and women who just checked around the conditions of your home. Then finally, the wait was over, the little boy was welcomed into your home. You and Zuko took a few days off to help the new member adapt to the conditions, and he seemed ever so excited to be adopted by the “king and queen”. You picked his room to be the one directly next to yours, the bedroom decorated and tailored to the little boy’s interests. Elated was the only word to describe how you felt as the child settled in nicely. He was a funny, charming young boy who made sure to express his appreciation daily. Never missing a “thank you” after a meal, or a hug goodnight. Even the fire nation folk were surprisingly welcoming, Zuko setting standards higher due to welcoming an orphan. The fame was of course never his intention, but the people still seemed pleased. Which now brings you to the third night in a row where you and Zuko sat somber in the bathroom- both exhausted beyond belief form the long day. However your stomach was awake and partying, and you were experiencing the effects of that.

“I think it’s time we go get that checked out,” he remarked.

“I don’t have time, with Lee and work and-“

“This is important too you know,”

“Yeah but priorities.”

“Yeah exactly so tomorrow?”

“Zuko I have things to do,”

“Okay but you said priorities, you’re a priority no?”

“Not in this scenario I’m not dying,”

“You’re throwing up,”

“Still not dying,”

“Why're you so opposed to going to the medic?”

“My life.”

“Huh?”

“It’s my life don’t tell me how to live it,”

“I’m not?”

“Yes you are.”

“YN.”

“ZUKO.”

“WHAT ARE YOU ARGUING WITH ME ABOUT JUST GO.”

“NO.”

“WHY NO?”

“BECAUSE.”

“BECAUSE WHAT?”

You lifted a finger, pointing at your head and shrugging. You could tell Zuko was getting impatient, but in your mind, not knowing what this is gave you one less thing to worry about. I mean, what if it’s something super serious? You now have a family, and more responsibilities than before- now is not at all the time. However, your husband saw differently. It wasn’t a hidden secret that Zuko was hard headed and stubborn, but this matter had virtually nothing to do with him, so if you don’t care he shouldn’t either. He slide his hand across his face, clenching his jaw.

“You’re going tomorrow.” He said sternly.

Your brows rose, a smirk on your face, “Oh? Says who?”

“Me.”

“And what gives you that authority over me?”

“I’m the fire lord,”

“That trick doesn’t work on your wife Zuko,”

“Yeah well I don’t have any others,” he fisher back a smile, losing the one scolding-type exterior.

“I just don’t want to bear another burden, I have enough on my plate as it is,”

“Yeah but what if this is a burden we have to bear? In the worst case scenario- I don’t want to be too late.”

“Can you tell me why you’re on the floor?” Startled, you both looked to see Suki at the door, a grin on her face.

“YN is-“ you smacked a hand over his mouth, his words coming out as mumbles.

“Just thought we’d change things up,” you scrunched your face.

“Yeah and that’s why it sounded like you were throwing up right?”

“I-“

“I checked the doctor is free and Lee is asleep let’s go,”

Zuko smiled brightly, feeling less alone. You however, opened your mouth to disagree when Suki pulled you out into the room, then out into the halls.

“Sukiiiiiiii,” you whined, trying to push back.

Zuko followed, ensuring you don’t escape.

“This is for your own good,”

“Leaving me alone is also for my own good!”

“You’re hilarious,” not a hint of a smile on her face.

The medic sat on the bed, her uniform dishevelled and eyes tired from this hour.

“You should go to bed,”

“Right after she checks up on you,” Your husband replied, narrowing his eyes.

“Fine.”

She sat you down on a bed, and began examining and asking questions. By the time she had gotten to the end of her checklist, you were preparing for the question. Despite being ready, you were thoroughly embarrassed, which the kyoshi warrior could only laugh at.

The lady thought for a moment.

“I have my suspicions that you could be pregnant ma’am, shall we bring in a water bender to give the results tomorrow?”

You sighed deeply, nodding.

That night was practically sleepless, Zuko held you in his arms, attempting to both provide you with warmth and ease your worry. Restless, you were fatigued when the sun finally emerged.

By noon, you, Zuko and Lee were sitting in a room, where you were on a bed and they were on some chairs. The water bender swished and swashed to try to gauge whether or not you were bearing a child. Then suddenly, everything was silent.

It was so silent, in fact, you could probably hear your own heartbeat.

“Congratulations, miss YN, you are pregnant.”

And with that, the celebrations began.

Lee was ever so joyed to have a younger sibling, going on to tell you all the fun adventures they’d have. Suki was excited to have more nieces to mess around with. Sokka, Katara and Aang travelled to congratulate you once they’d received the pigeon- as well as to welcome the little boy Lee. Toph, despite denying it, was actually happy you two got the family you dreamed of.

And of course, Zuko. You engraved the picture of his reaction into your head. He had waited for things to simmer down in the medical room before practically jumping for joy. He hugged you tightly, face glowing and eyes brimming with tears. Right after, he scooped up Lee, pecking kisses on his face, then yours, then laughing.

“You’re gonna be an older brother,” he whispered with a smile to Lee.

An: I could not think of a good title and a good ending so forgive me 🫣

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bosbas · 5 months

Text

Chapter 8: no one wanted to play with me as a little kid

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 3.4k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love (sort of. it's like pre idiots in love. on the cusp of idiots in love), fluff (so much fluff)

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: you know what. let's pretend all of the ages/years make sense. kisses to all of you!

December 4, 1809 - Dearest, loveliest, most wonderful Y/I (your initial),

I am so sorry I have not written in almost two weeks, though I did enjoy the very strongly worded letter you sent me reminding me of this fact and demanding a response. I wish I had a better excuse, but truthfully, this term has just been hectic. But to answer the question you so politely asked: yes, I will be home in time for Christmas, and I will be staying for New Year's and your birthday (your birthday is not even two weeks after Christmas, darling, give me some credit!). Though I rather think you owe me a present instead of the other way around after calling me an oblivious toad.

As an apology for my silence, I've attached my reading list for the courses I am taking at Oxford this term so you can also read them. I am sure you will be able to find them in your library but do let my mother know if you cannot find them. We should also have copies in our library. I will be heading back to Aubrey Hall in ten days to see the lot of you, and I will eagerly be awaiting all of your thoughts on this term's reading.

Yours, B

You couldn't help the excited gasp that left your lips as soon as you were finished reading Benedict's letter. You hadn't even managed to leave your entryway before you hastily opened the envelope addressed to you, blurting out a thank you to your slightly startled butler, who had been taken aback by your eager rifling of the mail.

Now that Benedict was at Oxford, you barely got to see him at all, so you were more than a little excited when you read that you would only have to wait ten more days to see him. The three weeks he was home for the winter holiday were the bulk of your in-person interactions with him for the year, as had been the norm for the past three years he had been at university.

It wasn't all bad, though. Proof of that lay in a box in your bedroom filled with every single letter or note you had received from Benedict while he was away at Oxford. Even the short ones, when he was studying for an exam and barely had time to write a coherent response, had found a place inside your box. You supposed the box contained most of your friendship with Ben over the past three years, neatly organized by date from oldest to newest and separated by term.

Sometimes, you found yourself missing Benedict more than usual, and you would read through your favorite of his letters. Often, it ended up being the shortest notes that were the sweetest and ones you would read over and over. Even years after he had sent the letters, you found comfort in his messy scrawl after an afternoon playing Pall Mall without Benedict and his typical banter. But once you saw him at Aubrey Hall every December, it would be like no time had passed at all. You kept him up to date on everything happening at home with your family and his, and he told you wild stories from his time at Oxford.

And although you enjoyed hearing about his life, it was also bittersweet. You were so jealous of him, wishing more than anything that you could go to university, too. But alas, the pesky issue of your gender prevented you from furthering your education. You got as close as you could, though. Benedict would send you all of his readings every term, and you enjoyed discussing the books you read at length when he returned for the holiday season.

This is not to say that your conversations about literature and art were limited to your in-person time. In fact, most of your correspondence was about the books you were reading or the galleries you had gone to. Ben could spend pages and pages talking about a particular part of a painting, the way the artist had captured the way light filtered through the trees. And you loved every bit of it, engaging in your usual discussions. In a way, if you ignored how much you missed him, it was lovely to have a physical representation of your friendship.

However, you would soon stop being constrained to receiving correspondence from Ben every few days, and you could simply knock on his door if you were particularly interested in talking about an aspect of your book. Your time at Aubrey Hall had become your favorite time of year, three weeks of daily interactions with your best friend being the absolute best birthday present you could've ever asked for.

But this year was different. This was the last time you would have to say goodbye at the end of the holidays, seeing as Benedict was graduating in the spring and returning from Oxford permanently. To say you were over the moon was an understatement. You could barely wait to spend hours in his studio watching him paint again or reading aloud to him under the shade of the tree in your backyard on particularly warm days.

---

August 12, 1799 - Y/I, I thought you would like this one. Yours, B

Bypassing Alex and Anthony having a heated debate about who was better at billiards, Benedict headed straight in your direction across the garden, ignoring Daphne, Colin, Theo, and Bastian, who had been playing some team game that devolved into an argument. Benedict patted your head as he came by to sit beside you on the grass, momentarily drawing your attention away from the massive book on your lap.

Grabbing the book from your lap and transferring it to his own, he asked, "So, what do you think?"

You let out an excited squeal, shaking Benedict's nearest arm with both hands. "It's amazing, Ben! An entire book about flowers, who knew? I've spent hours looking at it already, and I'm not even halfway through! It's got so much information I could die. It's incredible. Thank you so much." Though it was left unsaid, Ben knew these were hours you would have otherwise spent alone. The twins were especially adamant about not having you play with them, and Alex and Anthony were too caught up in their never-ending competitions to pay any attention to you. With your mother and his being occupied with the toddlers, Francesca, Cass, and Eloise, who had only just begun to walk and talk, you and Ben were truly the only odd ones out. But it was no bother to him. He loved when you read aloud to him, and you would happily listen to him talk about his sketches for hours on end, something he could not say about any other member of the Bridgerton-Beaumont cohort.

Ben could only laugh fondly at your excitement, internally very proud that he had found a book you really enjoyed. "It's called an encyclopedia. There are loads of them about just about anything and everything in the world," he told you, leafing through the book himself. Gently pushing the book back in your direction, he prodded, "Well, go on then. Show me your favorite flowers so far."

Grabbing the book, you hastily turned the pages until you reached the flowers, starting with the letter 'd.' Standing up, you rushed to the nearest corner of the garden and dug around for a few seconds, coming back with a bunch of small white flowers clutched in your small hands.

Ben let out a short laugh, but you quickly shushed him, whining, "Stop it! It'll make sense in a second, I promise."

"I didn't say anything!" responded Ben defensively, putting his hands up in the air but unable to conceal the smile you had elicited from him.

"Okay. Look at the page. The daisies. They're also called Bellis perennis, but that's in Latin. We have them here in the garden! Isn't that lovely?" you said excitedly, placing the flowers beside Ben.

"Oh, that is quite nice, Y/N," he responded, picking one of the daisies up and placing it behind your ear, eliciting a bright smile from you. "Did you know that a Violet is a type of flower? And so is a Primrose."

"You mean both our mums have flower names? That's so fun. I wish everyone could have a flower name," you responded, excited to have learned new information.

"You could always give your daughters flower names," Ben suggested, enjoying the pure joy you were getting out of this.

"Well, before I have daughters, I would have to get married. And I don't want to do that! I just want to keep reading books. I want to read every single encyclopedia in the world!" you exclaimed, reaching your arms as high as they could go.

Ben laughed, highly amused by your antics. "Just like me, then. Except instead of reading it's painting," he responded as he laid down fully on the grass, looking up at the sky and feeling particularly thankful that someone understood how he felt. On the other hand, you took the opportunity to dump all of the flowers you had picked onto his torso, arranging and rearranging them into different designs. He could only laugh, not at all bothered that his shirt would surely be dirty now, just happy to watch you enjoy yourself.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you spoke up as you tried unsuccessfully to stack the flowers on top of each other. "That's perfect, then. We can get married, I can read, and you can paint, and we can have a daughter and give her a flower name."

"That sounds wonderful! I'm glad that's sorted," he laughed, lifting his head to find you flashing a toothy grin. "D'you like the name Daisy for our daughter, then?"

"That's lovely! And you can paint her a painting of a daisy for her room!" you responded eagerly. Benedict hummed in assent, busy imagining the dynamics of a blissful imaginary marriage.

---

January 3, 1810 - Y/I, Happiest of birthdays, darling. Come downstairs, where I have a proper gift and card waiting for you. Yours, B

As you came downstairs, you already feared the fate that awaited you. Every year, your birthday would begin with a very extreme and frankly excessive snowball fight involving all the Bridgerton-Beaumont children. You could trust no one. Alliances would easily crumble under pressure, and people were just as likely to betray their siblings as they would someone from the other family. You and Benedict, ordinarily inseparable, could become sworn enemies in the span of two snowballs. You couldn't even trust sweet Hyacinth, only seven years old, to be loyal to any team, seeing as she was an outstanding double agent, a lesson you had all learned the hard way. It was absolute chaos, and you loved every second of it. It didn't matter how old you were; this was always the best part of your birthday.

As soon as you stepped outside, a snowball the size of your fist hit your right shoulder. Slowly turning toward the perpetrator, you narrowed your eyes once you saw it was Gregory, who had helped you defeat Bastian and Francesca in one fell swoop last year. Clearly, that alliance was gone, and you would have to find someone else to rely on this year.

Since it was your birthday, the fight officially started when you threw the first snowball, and this year, you chose to throw it at Cassandra, your own sister, who had annoyed you at dinner yesterday by incessantly flinging peas at you. Once the tightly packed ball left your hand, all hell broke loose. You were hit in the stomach and leg simultaneously as you fired snowballs in every direction you could, laughing as you did.

You briefly ducked behind a tree trunk, needing a moment to breathe. You took advantage of the fact that you weren't a target to form a massive snowball. You carefully stepped away from behind the trunk, checking that the coast was clear. Without a second thought, you flung the snowball as hard as you could in the direction of the person closest to you.

Unfortunately, it hit Benedict straight in the face, blinding him for a few moments. Your mouth hung open, trying not to laugh because you knew you had packed quite a bit of force into your throw. You ran to Ben's side, apologizing as much as possible without bursting into laughter. He cleared the snow from his eyes and turned to you slowly, an evil grin forming on his face.

"I believe you have just declared war, Miss Beaumont," he said finally.

You screamed and ran in the opposite direction, knowing he would be absolutely merciless. You couldn't even look back, not wanting to slow down. After a few seconds of frantic sprinting, you felt Ben tackling you onto a massive pile of snow. Both of you were laughing hysterically while trying to catch your breath. He turned you over so you were lying down side by side, both of you panting heavily, looking up at the winter sky.

"I miss you," you said finally, turning your head toward him, only to find that he was already looking at you. He pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around you tightly before he helped you up and brushed the snow off of your coat.

"I know. I miss you, too. But it'll only be like this for a short while longer, and then you can come round every day and read to me while I paint, yeah?" he said, lifting your chin to look at him.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your heartbeat quicken, his brown eyes not letting yours go. Your eyes flickered to his mouth briefly, your lips parting slightly. Looking back at his eyes, you saw something flash in them that you couldn't quite parse, an expression you hadn't seen before. Finally, you nodded, letting him pull you into him and kiss your forehead, enjoying the warmth and comfort you felt as you were wrapped tightly in his arms.

---

September 17, 1805 - Y/I, I can't believe you had a book about the exact artist I was talking about! I'll pop by yours later to say a proper thank you. Yours, B

Benedict walked into your sitting room, sprawling on the couch before you with his arm behind his head, silently waiting for you to look up from your book. But you had just gotten to an exciting part, and your eyes remained glued to the page, ignoring your best friend's attempt to get your attention.

You heard him huff and muttered a soft "Just a second, Ben" as your eyes raced across the page, eager to know what happened next. In response, he slid further down the couch and crossed his arms, eliciting a laugh from you and finally drawing you away from your book.

"You were barely waiting ten seconds, Benedict!" you exclaimed, secretly pleased he was so eager to see you. He was leaving for Oxford in a few weeks, and although you were trying not to think about the reality of him going, you were acutely aware that you would soon be unable to see him every day.

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, responding with a teasing, "It felt like ten years!"

In recent months, the two of you had become inseparable. Your days were spent reading next to him as he painted, listening to him talk about his most recent artworks, or going for nature walks if you found yourself in Aubrey Hall. Anything to keep him close by before he left for Oxford, you reasoned. Though you couldn't help the growing affection, you were feeling, finding it impossible to look away when he tousled his hair just so and being a bit too pleased every time he complimented you. Every handsome smile or cheeky wink he sent your way lit you up inside, melting your heart just a little bit.

The problem was, and of course, there was a problem, that Benedict was always like this. Nothing about his demeanor had changed; your friendship was still the same as it had always been. Except now you found yourself spending a little too much time in the mornings making sure your hair looked good in case he popped by unannounced. Regardless, you knew Ben did not reciprocate your affections, so you tried to ignore these feelings as best as you could, folding them up very small and tucking them neatly in the corner of your heart for later examination.

Now, you found yourself on a couch against a wall of Benedict's studio, reading Romeo and Juliet as he was quietly sketching. This was quite possibly your favorite thing to do. Spend quiet afternoons together, reading and painting, enjoying each other's company. You took a moment to look at him as he scrunched his nose, unhappy with a certain aspect of the sketch.

He sighed and looked up at you, nodding toward your book. "What has Shakespeare got to say today?"

"That marriage is a death sentence," you replied, voice deadpan.

Ben burst into laughter. "Oh, come off it. It can't be that bad in real life. That's only a play! Besides, you've still got a while before you have to think about that," he tried to reason with you.

"Well, maybe. But it just sounds so unappealing. I want to do this. What we're doing now. I want to keep doing it. I don't want to be a wife! I just want to read and study," you argued.

Benedict stood up, coming to sit beside you and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I know, darling. I'm sorry," but he knew you had more to say.

You groaned, pushing your forehead into his shoulder. "I just don't think I'll ever be happy if I'm forced to marry. And I most likely will be, knowing my mother. She'd rather die than have one of her daughters turn into a spinster," you huffed, missing the sympathetic look you got from Ben. "And who will my husband be? A clueless man with no interest in me beyond my ability to be a good wife? I cannot imagine a worse fate."

---

May 8, 1810 - Y/I, I'll keep this one short, seeing how I'll be properly back in a few days! I've been quite busy with graduation, but I'm excited to come home. Yours, B

You smiled as you placed the last letter you had received from Benedict back in your box. The collection was complete. Three years of correspondence between the two of you finally come to an end. You carefully closed the box and returned downstairs, where a big family gathering was occurring in the garden.

As soon as you stepped outside, Ben was at your side, chatting your ear off about one thing or another. He had barely left you alone since he had been back, granting you only a few minutes to yourself, but you couldn't complain. You wrapped an arm around his torso as you walked back to the garden table.

"Oh, you look so darling!" cried Violet, cooing at the two of you.

"You're proper adults now! Both of you! How the time has passed," your mother added, reaching out to hold Violet's hand.

Benedict could only smile, too happy to be back at your side to focus on anything else. He had missed you loads while he was at Oxford, but having your arm around him now, he realized just how much he needed you. Ben placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, unable to help himself as you sat down at the table. He sat right next to you, taking one of your hands into his own so he could play with your fingers as you chatted with Primrose and Violet.

Oxford had been a riot, to be sure, but he was so glad to come home to you.

—

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Tag List (lmk if you want to be added!): @bellahadidnt16 @like-gabriel-and-castiel @riverraingrayworld @5sos-calm @elissanatok @titanicnerd-blog @noonenuts @moonwayne @lilasblogg @mmontgomeryb @fulltacoparadise @joyfullymulti

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bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove · 4 months

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Light My Love Masterlist

This is the masterlist to my Theo series! This series is a rewrite of the movies, adding in fan created characters like Mattheo Riddle and Enzo Berkshire. Every link will have the summary of the chapter below it so you can see what the chapter is about.

Series Summary - Follow Y/N as she navigated the wizarding world on her own, starting from her first year, all the way through to her seventh. As she falls in love and get her heart broken, how a certain friend is always there to mend her broken heart even though his is slowly getting broken in the process.

Series Warnings - Blood purity, dark wizards, Reader is a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, pining, angst, reader will have some shitty boyfriends, Female Reader, use of Y/N

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST, LEAVE ME A COMMENT ON THIS POST!

My full Masterlist

My requests are OPEN! If you would like to request just send one in and I'll write it as soon as I can!

not my gif

Prologue

Y/N finally receives her Hogwarts letter, meeting with her friends in Diagon Alley and doing their shopping together. She is counting down the days until she finally gets to see Hogwarts and get herself sorted.

Y/N makes a new friend on the first day of classes. There is a time jump to nearly 2 months later. She receives a letter from her mother after the woman finds out about her failing grade. She finds a certain mirror after receiving said letter.

It's exam season before the Winter break and Y/N receives help from someone unexpected. Spending nearly every night awake studying for the exams, she is quite exhausted. Theo takes note of this and helps her out. After a long night of studying, the Slytherin boys see something rather interesting related to their dear friend Y/N.

III

It's officially winter break, Theo stays at Hogwarts with Y/N and sticks by her side during a migraine attack. Theo and her godfather help take care of her, Theo spending the whole day with her and pulling an all-nighter together.

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multi-fandomfuckboy · 8 months

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Stranger Than Fiction

Part 24: Tension

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 24, Part 25 (Coming Soon)...

AN: Hope you guys like this one! Word Count: 5,112 Warnings: Language, Suggestive themes, panic attacks

Friday morning you wake up with the violent urge to vomit. You move on autopilot, cooking, dressing, brushing your teeth, kissing your mom goodnight. You can’t bring yourself to eat anything, not trusting your stomach to hold it down with the way it's doing somersaults.

It doesn't help that when you got home last night all you could think about was Billy. You had to force yourself to strip off his clothes and take a shower, hoping it would calm you down. It didn’t. Everytime you closed your eyes you saw him, how he had looked lying next to you, how he had felt under you, his body against yours, his arms around you, his smell, his taste…

Needless to say, you didn't get much sleep. But somewhere in the night your thoughts shift from Billy to the upcoming exam. You know that you’re not ready. You’ve been studying constantly but you have the sinking feeling that it’s not going to be enough.

When Steve picks you up he’s all smiles, excited for the last day before winter break. He tells you about the ski trip he and his family take every year to Colorado, but everything he says goes in one ear and out the other. Your mind swirls as all the information Billy has crammed into your mind over the past week tries to organize itself. The twisting in your stomach only gets worse when Steve pulls into the school parking lot, you can feel the panic growing, humming in the back of your mind that just won't settle.

“Hey, I’ve got to head to the bathroom before class, I don’t feel good.” You say, unintentionally cutting Steve off. His eyes turn to you, looking you over, his happy expression quickly shifting into one of worry.

“Oh, okay. Are you alright?” He asks, clearly concerned.

“I’m fine. I just need a minute.” you tell him, not even able to give him a fake smile as you quickly open your door. You climb out of the car taking a deep breath, letting the cold air penetrate your lungs, before you start towards the school. Steve follows after you, rushing to catch up. The two of you enter the school, other students rushing around you, idle chatter filling the air, only adding to your growing anxiety.

“You sure? Do you need anything? I can run to Malvald’s really quick and get you something.” He offers, gently grabbing your arm. For some reason the touch feels suffocating to you, and without thinking you rip your arm out of his grasp whipping around to face him.

“Jesus! I’m fine Steve! I just need a minute, alone!” You snap. Steve’s eyes initially widen in surprise at your outburst but he quickly ducks his head, trying to hide the hurt you know is clearly written on his face. You immediately wish you could take it back.

“Right. I’m- uh- I’m sorry.” Steve says, taking a slight step back, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Steve, no. I’m just-” you try to explain, taking a step towards him. He takes another step back.

“It’s okay, really. I’m going to get to class.” Steve says, taking a step around you. He gives you a small smile that looks so forced in your eyes. “I hope you feel better.” He says, before turning fully and walking away.

You watch him retreat down the hall, you don't miss how he hangs his head rubbing at the back of his neck as he goes. You feel like such a jerk. Steve was just trying to help and you bit his head off. You groan, heading towards the gym you ignore the few pairs of eyes that follow you as you go, having seen the interaction. You didn’t mean to get upset like that, it’s just that this test feels like it’s life or death. To make matters worse you should have been spending every last second studying instead of daydreaming about Billy.

You pace back and forth in front of the lockers between the bathrooms outside the gym, anxiously running your fingers through your hair.

You’re going to fail this exam, and then history all together. No college is going to want you with grades like that. Then on top of all that, you just pushed away one of your only friends because you couldn’t get a grip. You feel like a psycho. The anxiety and shame mix forming a pit in your gut, all of it bubbling up inside of you causing your hands to shake. This is ridiculous! You’ve helped save the world twice, nearly dying in the process multiple times, but a history test is what threatens to send you into a spiraling panic.

“Fuck!” You yell, a burst of anger shooting though you. Turning you slam your foot into the metal lockers, filling the empty hallway with a loud bang. It hurts your foot but you kick out again, denting the metal.

“Whoa there, loca! Angry and destructive are my things.” Billy’s lilting voice calls from your left. You don’t respond, taking off your bag and pulling out his food for the day. He comes to a stop in front of you. “Don't tell me I’ve been a bad influence on you.” He teases, his white teeth flashing in his usual smug grin.

You keep your eyes down, not wanting him to see the tears of frustration that threaten to blur your vision. You’ve heard his thoughts on feeling sorry for yourself and are not in the mood for another rant about how useless it is.

When you don't respond, Billy’s smile fades. You can feel his eyes scrutinizing your every breath.

“You okay?” he asks, the teasing tone in his voice gone.

“I’m fine.” you say, keeping your voice firm trying to even out your rapid breathing. “Just take the food, I have to get to class.” you say, holding out the containers to him, fighting to stop the shaking in your hands.

Billy takes a step forward, reaching out to take the food. Instead of grabbing the containers he grabs your wrist tugging you towards him, causing you to stumble forward almost running into him.

“Hey!” You protest, getting your feet under you again. Before you can say anything else Billy’s hand is on your chin, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes are narrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line, looking over your face with such intensity you could almost confuse it with anger. But you’ve seen him angry and this is not that.

“What’s going on? Why do you look like you’re about to be sick or burst into tears any second?” He asks. You’re surprised by the lack of judgment in his question but still you open your mouth to tell him that you’re fine. He cuts you off. “And don't give me any of that ‘I’m fine’ bullshit. We both know it’s a fucking lie so don’t even try it.” he tells you firmly.

You hate that your body's response to him looking at you like this, asking if you’re okay, demanding that you tell him if something is wrong, isn't anger. Instead more tears fill your eyes, blinking once they finally spill down your cheeks.

Billy’s eyes widen momentarily. He lets go of your wrist and chin, using both of his hands to hold your face, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“I’m going to fail history!” You blurt out, pulling his hands away from you and taking a step back, wiping furiously at your face.

“Is that what this is about?” Billy asks, disbelievingly. He shakes his head, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“I’m serious Billy!” you groan, glaring at him. “I’m going to fail history because my brain is fucking broken or something!”

“Hey! Listen to me crazy, you’re not going to fail.” Billy says firmly, stepping towards you again, placing both of his hands on your shoulders. He keeps his eyes leveled on you, his voice steady. “You’ve got this. Do you really think I would have put as much time and effort into teaching you if I thought you couldn’t nail this thing?” he asks, lifting a brow. “You’re cooking may be good but I value my time more than anything.” he tells you seriously. You keep your eyes on him, searching his face for the lie.

“You’re going to pass.” he says with such conviction, you almost believe him. “But you can’t do anything until you calm down.” He tells you, his hands tightening slightly on your shoulders. “Take a deep breath, count to ten, and keep telling yourself ‘I’ve got this’. Okay?” he instructs. “Confidence is 90% mental. Let me see you do it.” You know his eyes are on you even as you close your eyes, filling your lungs with air, counting silently in your mind repeating the affirmation.

“Do it again.” he orders. You repeat the process, slowly feeling your pulse regulate and the panic slither back from your mind. You hear Billy chuckle.

“Good. I think oxygen is finally getting to your brain.” Billy says, causing you to open your eyes and immediately roll them. But part of you thinks he must be right, you are still nervous but the paralyzing fear you felt is nearly gone. You wonder where he learned that. If he has ever had to use it himself?

“Thank you, Billy.” You say, hoping he can see how much you mean it.

“Don’t thank me yet, loca. You can do that after you ace this test.” he says, another smirk flashing his perfect teeth. Letting go of your shoulders with one more reassuring squeeze he takes the containers of food from your hands. Without another word, the warning bell rings, both of you head to your respective classes.

The rest of the day you continue to repeat Billy’s calming routine whenever you start to feel your panic rising up. You practice all through lunch while you study, unable to find Steve who must still be upset about this morning. You know you will have to see him after basketball practice, there is no way he is going to leave you without a ride home.

You are actively counting to ten as you walk towards history. You don’t notice Billy fall into step beside you only glancing at him when you feel his hand slip into yours. It’s subtle and in the bustling hallway it would look like he simply brushed against you. Neither of you stop walking as he leans in slightly.

“You’ve got this.” he says firmly, giving your hand a squeeze before letting it fall, both of you entering the class.

During the exam you focus on remembering all the stories Billy told you. All the long nights of putting the pieces into a cohesive plot. You recognize a lot of the material even though there are a few questions that stump you. You have to take a few deep breaths when your classmates begin to rise one at a time as they finish. You're not even halfway done as they set their completed tests on Mr. Willson’s desk, exiting the classroom. Billy is among the first to leave. You watch him confidently swagger to the front setting his test down. His eyes meet yours as he walks to the door, he gives you a nod and a quick wink before exiting.

You don’t finish until the last minute of class, reading and rereading every question checking your answers. It’s only you left in the classroom as you rise taking a deep breath walking to the front. Mr. Willson watches you, one brow raised as you place your test in front of him.

“Grades will be posted by the end of the day.” he says stoically, taking your test and placing it on the large stack to his right. You exit quickly, the urge to snatch your test back just to check one more thing is overwhelming.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder you exit into the busy hallway. You notice the palpable energy that fills the air, everyone excited for the last class before winter break officially starts.

You spot Billy leaning against the lockers ahead of you, casually scanning the hallway with his practiced indifference. You wonder if he’s been waiting all this time for you. You start towards him, hoping to talk about the questions on the test you weren't sure about. His eyes meet yours but before you can reach him someone steps directly into your path. You stop short, nearly running directly into Steve’s chest.

“Hey.” he greets you, a hesitant smile already in place.

“Hey.” you respond, taking a small step back. You aren't sure how to act after what happened this morning. You want to apologize but the words are escaping you. There is a pause as both of you look at eachother, students hurry past, breaking around you like a rock in a stream.

“About this morning, I-”

“I’m sorry about this mo-” you both say at the same time. It manages to break the tension, causing both of you to chuckle. It lightens your heart seeing a more genuine smile on his face.

“Sorry, you go first.” Steve says, gesturing for you to continue.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry for what happened this morning. I know that you were just trying to help.” You say, keeping your eyes on him despite the urge to look at your shoes. You have lost friends by not saying what needs to be said, and you would be damned if you let it happen again. “I’m sorry I snapped at you like that.” you say earnestly. Steve shakes his head at your words.

“No, I’m sorry too. I know I can be a bit much sometimes. I didn’t mean to smother you or anything. I just want you to know if you ever need space I’m cool with that, I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me everything.” He apologies, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. You smile slightly, feeling all the tension between the two of you dissipate.

“Apology accepted.” you say extending your hand. “Friends?” you ask, lifting a brow. Steve glances at your offered hand, his smile growing.

“Friends.” Steve confirms, taking your hand and giving it a firm shake. You both smile at each other and despite the crowded hallway you let him pull you into a tight hug. He squeezes you tightly, lifting you off the ground for a moment causing you to laugh. “Does this mean you’ll go to the Christmas party with me tonight?” he asks, smiling brightly down at you. You scoff, pushing him away to look squarely up at him.

“Really Steve?” you ask, lifting a brow. You had told him ‘no’ weeks ago when he first invited you to the big party taking place at Bobby Mathers house. “Are you seriously using my apology as leverage to get me to go with you?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. Steve laughs, holding his hands up.

“I would never do something like that.” he protests, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s just, everyone is going to be there.” he tells you, his smile no longer reaching his eyes. You know he’s been self conscious about going to parties like this since everything with Nancy and Jonathan happened. Especially when it became public knowledge in the small highschool. “Don’t make me go alone.” he begs, giving you his best puppy eyes.

Damn those brown eyes.

“Maybe.” you say. Steve’s grins ear to ear pumping his fist in the air in victory.

“Yes!” He cheers.

“I didn’t say ‘yes’, Steve!” you say, shaking your head, reluctantly smiling as he backs away from you still grinning brightly.

“I’ll pick you up at 8!” He calls, pointing at you before turning to jog down the hall. It’s less crowded now and you look around for Billy. He’s gone.

The rest of the day passes quickly, hardly anyone paying attention to the last class of the day. When the final bell rings you can hear the cheers erupt around you, everyone rushing from their seats to the parking lot. You take your time packing your bag, instead of heading to the library to meet Nancy you head back to Mr. Willson’s room. You can’t leave until you know, for better or worse.

When you reach his room, the door is open and you can see him seated at his desk, working through another stack of tests. You knock gently on his door, causing him to look up. He doesn't look surprised to see you standing there, setting down his pen as he watches you enter the room.

“I thought you would be back for this.” He says, picking up one of the exams set aside. You hear him sigh as he looks over the front of the test. “I can tell you put a lot of effort into this.” he says, rising from his chair. Your stomach twists at his words. He looks so serious. Fuck. You failed. You knew it. You failed and he feels bad for you. You hold your breath as he extends the test out to you. Taking it, you slowly turn it over.

Your heart stops.

“Keep up whatever you’ve been doing and you might actually pass my class.” he says, a small smile almost imperceptible on his face. You could scream. You can't believe what you’re seeing, but right there, next to your name, in green ink, is a big ‘B-’.

You fucking did it.

Your grin is so big it actually hurts your face.

“Thank you!” you exclaim, beaming up at him. You have to find Billy. Turning to leave you practically run for the door.

“Hey! I still need that!” Mr. Willson yells. You stop, quickly rushing back to hand him the test before hurrying out.

You’re absolutely buzzing with excitement. You rush through the halls, heading towards the gym. You feel the need to tell someone, anyone, about the test but there is one person in particular you want to share the news with. Reaching the gym you skid to a halt outside the double doors. Looking through the glass you see the basketball team scattered across the court getting warmed up for practice. You spot Billy’s curly blonde mullet almost instantly. You go to push through the doors but stop, seeing Steve stretching on the side of the court.

If you go in there now to talk to Billy, Steve will freak out and knowing the two of them it will likely end in a fight. Your eyes turn back to Billy, he bends a knee tying his sneakers. Seeming to feel your gaze, he glances up. He looks somewhat surprised to see you standing there, his brows pulling together in confusion a beat later.

You glance at Steve to make sure he hasn’t seen you at the doors before quickly gesturing for Billy to come outside. He nods once, confirming that he understands. He stands, saying something to one of his teammates before jogging across the gym towards you.

You duck out of view moving to stand next to the bathrooms where you and Billy normally meet in the mornings. A minute later Billy exits the gym doors, he glances around a moment before spotting you and heading over.

“Hey, what’s up?” He asks, looking you over, clearly confused by your presence. You’re practically bouncing with excitement, struggling to contain your smile.

“I went by Mr. Willsons to see my grade, and guess what?” You prompt, biting your lower lip, losing the fight to keep your grin hidden. Billy’s expression loosens, rolling his eyes.

“You finally caught him shedding his lizard skin?” Billy asks, a small smile ghosting over his lips. The excitement bubbles over and you laugh.

“I passed!” You exclaim, your smile overtaking your face, impossible to hold back. Billy’s smile grows as he watches you bounce on the balls of your feet, the energy inside you needing a way out. “I mean I got a B minus but still!” you elaborate.

“You say that like it’s a surprise, loca.” Billy says. “Not to be that guy but, I told you so.” He teases. You laugh again, shoving his shoulder lightly. He catches your hand as you pull back, holding it in his.

“One B minus doesn't mean you’re off the hook you nutjob.” He says. “You still have to pass the class and that means passing every other quiz and test before the end of the school year.” He reminds you. You nod, only letting that dampen your mood slightly. “There were a few things on this exam we didn’t get to cover, so tonight we’ll-” Your smile falters, causing him to stop short. “What?” He asks.

“I won’t be able to come over tonight.” you tell him. It’s subtle but you see his smile fade, though he hides his feelings well. “Steve is dragging me to this party and-” The sound of voices approaching the gym doors cuts you off. More specifically, the sound of Steve’s voice.

Without thinking you grip Billy’s hand and pull him into the bathroom to hide. You hear a group come through the gym doors a moment later. You look around for a place to hide hearing the conversation grow closer.

“Where the fuck is he?”

“I don't know, he said he would be right back.”

“Check to see if he’s taking a piss.”

“I’ll go check the bathroom, you guys look around.”

You mentally curse yourself. Of course they were just coming to get Billy. Why did you drag him in here with you? You turn to tell Billy to go but he drags you forward, ushering you into a bathroom stall.

“Stand on the toilet seat.” He orders. You do as he says, stepping up onto the toilet, bracing your hands against the wall for support. Billy stands in front of you, his hands hovering near your waist in case you fall.

He doesn't look at you though. He keeps his gaze narrowed at the ground, his lips pressed into a firm line. The tension in his shoulders is obvious and from where you are positioned above him, you see the muscle in his jaw flutter as he clenches his teeth together.

He’s pissed.

Looking at this objectively, you see why. You’ve just made it clear that you don't want to be seen close to him. And it’s glaringly obvious that you are hiding your connection with Billy from Steve. Your face burns. He knows you're hiding him. You try to tell yourself it’s for the best but part of you still wants to apologize.

The bathroom door swings open, banging against the wall.

“Hargrove, are you in here?” you recognize Steve’s voice. You see the muscle in Billy’s jaw tick again before he responds.

“Fuck off Harrington!” He bites back. You hear Steve scoff, his sneakers squeaking as he walks further into the bathroom.

“Trust me, I wish I could. But coach has us running plays and apparently you need to be there.” Steve explains, the irritation in his tone clear. Your pulse quickens as Steve’s sneakers come into view under the stall door.

“Fuck.” Billy curses under his breath, shaking his head. You couldn’t have said it better yourself. When Billy doesn't respond after a moment, Steve only grows more irritated.

“I swear to god if you're taking a shit! Hurry up!” Steve yells, pounding his fist on the stall door. The sudden sound makes you jump, your foot slipping from where you’re perched on the toilet seat, sending you careening towards the floor. Your arms flail out, banging loudly against the stall, as you try to catch yourself.

Billy rushes forward, wrapping his arms around you to stop you from crashing to the floor. Your sudden weight threatens to take him down as well forcing him to pivot, pinning your body against the stall wall with his to keep you both upright. Your head collides with the metal, a pained sound escaping you, cut off by Billy's palm over your mouth. You inhale deeply through your nose, the throbbing in your head matching up with the pounding of your heart.

“Jesus christ, Do you have someone else in there?” Steve yells pounding on the door again. Billy’s eyes meet yours. You can barely breathe with how his body has you pressed into the wall. Your legs are loosely wrapped around his waist, keeping your feet off the floor. The hand that's not covering your mouth is wrapped around your waist helping hold you upright. Your hands automatically clutch Billy’s shoulders, and from this position you are eye level with him.

His eyes search yours for a moment then you see something click. He leans in, whispering in your ear, low enough that Steve can’t hear.

“Moan. Loud. Make it sound real.” He orders. Your eyes widen at the implication of his plan. You shake your head against his hand, your mind racing to come up with a different plan. You’ve never even kissed a boy! You don’t know how to moan like that, there is no way you can believably imitate-

Billy moves his hand from your mouth, sliding it over to gently cup the side of your face. You shake your head again, mouthing ‘I can’t, I don’t know how.” Hoping he understands.

He grits his teeth again, his eyes falling to your neck, you see his gaze darken. Before you can protest, Billy lowers his head, pressing his mouth to your throat.

You can’t help the gasp of surprise at the sudden sensation. His mouth is open as he kisses down your neck. Your grip tightens on his shoulders as his tongue presses over your thundering pulse.

This is so different from the small kisses you gave him last night. This feels so much more intense, his touch spreading fire over your skin making your breaths come in short gasps. It’s like he’s going to devour you, and you want him to. You tilt your head into the hand that holds the side of your face. You feel his fingers slide into your hair, pulling it slightly, earning another gasp

Your body feels like it's vibrating, heat pulsing through your veins. His body presses you harder into the wall, his arm tightening around your waist as if he could pull you closer than you already are. When his mouth moves lower Billy sinks his teeth gently into the sensitive flesh of your neck. It’s all too much. Then using his tongue and teeth he pulls a bit of skin into his mouth sucking on it hard enough that it stings but in a way that makes your brain go fuzzy. A moan erupts from deep within your chest, your hands flying to his hair, either to pull him away or keep him there, you’re not sure.

“Jesus christ.” you hear Steve grumble. You had almost forgotten what a precarious situation you’re in. To be fair, you can barely form a coherent thought as Billy finally pulls his lips off of you.

“You going to stick around and listen to the finale, Stevie boy?! I didn’t think you were into that!” Billy taunts, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Alright, whatever! Just… hurry up!” Steve says, finally taking a step away. You listen as he quickly exits the bathroom.

When he’s gone, the only sounds in the room are yours and Billy’s ragged breathing. His eyes search your face, his expression filled with something you can't quite place, but it stirs something deep in your gut.

What just happened?

His gaze flickers to your parted lips, the hand in your hair sliding down to hold the side of your neck. His tumb glides over the portion of your neck he had bitten into, you can feel him smear the remnants of his saliva as he moves over the spot, sending a shiver down your spine.

Then he blinks a few times, rapidly, like he's just waking up. He takes a step back, his hands moving to your waist to steady you as your feet lower back to the ground. You keep your hands on his shoulders, not trusting your legs to hold you up with how they currently feel like jello. The darkness in his eyes is gone, replaced by something eerily close to fear as he scans your face. You know that you must be blushing like crazy but that’s the least of your worries given the circumstances.

“That's all I could think of. Sex tends to make people uncomfortable enough to leave you the fuck alone, so I thought-” Billy explains.

“No, no. It was a good idea.” You say, finally finding your voice again. “I’m sorry I couldn’t fake it, I’ve just never-” You stop yourself from saying more. You feel his hands flex slightly where they hold your waist.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his eyes still searching your face closely. You note how tense he seems, concern still clear in his eyes. You get the sickening sense that he’s getting ready for you to snap at him.

How could you possibly be upset? You did the same thing to him not 24 hours ago, and the only reason he had to do that was because you dragged him in here because you were worried about what Steve would think. If anyone should be upset, it’s him. All you can really think about is the way his mouth felt against you and his teeth-

“I’m… good.” You lie. Every instinct inside you is screaming at you to press him against the wall and find out what else his mouth can do. You shake your head, like that will clear the thoughts from filling your mind. You lower your hands from his shoulders, resting them on his forearms, his hands still on your waist.

His eyes bore into yours, still searching, still waiting. After a moment he must see what he needs because he nods.

“Alright, I’ll go out first and make sure your guard dog is gone, then wait 5 minutes to be sure the coast is clear before you come out.” He tells you. You only nod.

Then, like he has to force himself, Billy pulls his hands away from you, yours falling away from him as well. He turns to the door, opening it slightly and peering out to make sure it’s empty before quickly ducking out of the stall. Leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

What just happened?

AN: I hope you guys enjoyed this one! Let me know what you thought of it, it's kind of new for me to write intimacy like this so please let me know what you think! Leave a like or a comment and you'll hear form me soon!

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gimmethatagustd · 9 days

Text

venor (final) | kth + jjk

The barista at the university’s café keeps telling Jungkook not to come back, but Jungkook is too busy daydreaming about kissing the beauty marks on his face to be paying attention to his warnings.

○ Pairing: Tiger!Taehyung x Bunny!Jungkook

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Hybrids, predator/prey, college au, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, light angst, eventual smut

○ Word Count: 5,064

○ Warnings: Scenting, lots of kissing and happy crying, gross cute romance and all that other annoying stuff

○ Notes: It's the end of an era, my friends. I promised a Bestie Who Must Not Be Named that I'd write an epilogue, so technically this series isn't 100% over. I hope you had fun with it! And thank you to everyone who was so kind to me as we went on this unique little journey together 💜

○ Post Date: April 21, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Cross-Post

○ What was Jai listening to? The series playlist

Series Masterlist

Jungkook and Taehyung wait until they finish their final projects and exams before visiting Taehyung's family home. As much as a getaway trip, no matter how short or ordinary, would help alleviate Jungkook's end-of-the-year stress, his commitment to his studies, and his fear of disappointing his parents force him to focus on his studies. Exercising helps, especially when he convinces Taehyung and Yoongi to tag along, but most days near the end of the semester, Jungkook spends in the library or in class.

When Jungkook submits the last project due, the mobile app he spent the whole semester designing, he feels like his brain dribbles out of his ears. With final presentations and exams now over, they have the freedom to do as they please in the last few days before they must leave the dorms for winter break. He's lucky he doesn't have to drive to Taehyung's house, even though it's a short trip.

"Jiae is still in school, but my appa should be home," Taehyung explains, keeping his eyes on the road as he drives.

"Where did you say she's studying?"

"New York University. I've never been to the United States, but she likes it for the most part. She said the city is dirty, though."

Jungkook watches Taehyung smile as he shares a story about his sister's first time seeing a rat scurry across the city streets. Without a sibling, Jungkook doesn't know what it's like to share a life with someone for so long and then be separated by so much distance. There's love in how Taehyung talks about Jiae; Jungkook can feel it. Taehyung also experiences a little bit of joy in knowing his sister has been chased by rats, and Jungkook supposes that's just how it is being an older sibling.

When school isn’t in session, Taehyung stays with Jiae and their father in the home where the children grew up. It’s a small villa in a quiet neighborhood far enough away from downtown Seoul that Jungkook almost feels like he’s back in his own town, free from the bustling city and the hassles that come with it. The villa is well-maintained but modest and home to four families, with the Kim family occupying one of the apartment units on the second floor. The building is cute from the outside, not as big and intimidating as the apartments Jungkook imagined in the city, and a few of the nerves jittering through his body calm down.

Taehyung finds street parking nearby so they don’t need to walk far in the cold. Just like the end of the semester, winter descended on Jungkook quicker than he expected.

In the villa’s compact front yard, a few young children bundled up in thick coats, scratchy scarves, and winter hats too big for their heads build miniature snowmen. Feline tails whip out from two of their coats, and another child has sparkly olive scale splotches on his cheeks like freckles.

“Taehyungie hyung!” squeals one of the children when Taehyung leads Jungkook up the front steps.

Once the other two children notice Taehyung, they fumble in the snow, knees lifting high to jump over the lumps of snow they’ve pushed together. They’re adorable, even more so when the three crash into Taehyung, clinging to his legs and tugging on his gloved hands.

“Hey kids,” Taehyung pats each child on the head with the hand that isn’t being pulled nearly to the ground by one girl.

“When is Jiae noona coming back?” the little boy demands, making Taehyung frown.

“I come home for the first time in months, and you want my sister instead?”

“We missed you too, oppa,” one of the girls insists with wide eyes that remind Jungkook of how he looks when he’s trying to get someone on his good side. He can’t help but giggle over it, and the sound alerts the children to the fact that he’s there, patiently waiting on the front steps behind Taehyung.

“Hello,” the little girl hanging on Taehyung’s arm swings her body around to look at Jungkook. “Who are you?”

“That’s my boyfriend, your Jungkook oppa.”

“You have a boyfriend, Taehyungie oppa? Did your appa say that you can have a boyfriend?”

With his hands on his hips, Jungkook turns to Taehyung, giving him an expectant look that mirrors the three children's expressions.

“Well, Tae, did your appa permit you to have a boyfriend?”

“Bun, not you, too,” Taehyung groans as he tries shaking off the children.

“Oh my gosh! He’s a bunny! Look at his ears!”

“Come on, guys. It’s cold.” Taehyung grabs Jungkook’s bicep and pulls him forward as the children rush to cling onto Jungkook instead.

Shouting over each other, the children demand that Jungkook remove his winter hat to show off more of his ears and demonstrate if he can jump really high. Their silly questions are endearing, but Jungkook’s nose is frozen, and he grows more nervous with each step he climbs to reach the villa’s front doors.

“Go back to your snowman.” Taehyung shoos the kids away while he holds the door open for Jungkook. “You’ll see Jungkook later.”

“Bye hyungs, bye oppas!” the children call out, fumbling over each other to move out of the way when Taehyung tries to usher them from the door.

Despite Taehyung’s grumblings, his affection for the children is evident by how sweet and patient he is with them. Jungkook hasn’t thought much about children. He knows his parents expect grandchildren, especially since they only have Jungkook to provide them, but he always saw parenthood as a far-off concept not worth worrying about in his youth. Seeing Taehyung interact with the neighborhood children makes Jungkook consider that, perhaps, he could spend a little time thinking about it more than he has in the past…

“My appa did give me permission to have a boyfriend, by the way,” Taehyung says with a silly smile as he loops his arm through Jungkook’s to lead him down the hall once they’ve reached the second floor.

“Oh, good. What would we have done if he hadn’t?” Jungkook smiles, too, just as goofy.

“Break up, I guess?” Taehyung offers, laughing when Jungkook stops in the middle of the hallway to stomp his foot in frustration.

Taehyung is obviously joking; Jungkook can’t imagine him ever asking for permission to do anything, not that he’s the type of kid to go against his parents at every turn. Something tells Jungkook that Taehyung’s mother encouraged his free spirit rather than trying to stamp it down. Perhaps some of that has rubbed off on Jungkook, too.

“You didn’t even formally ask me out!” Jungkook complains.

Squeezing Jungkook’s bicep, Taehyung tugs on him gently. “I totally did!”

“When?!”

Taehyung removes his gloves to input the apartment unit’s code. His hat covers his ears, but Jungkook can tell that they twitch under it just as his tail flicks out to smack Jungkook on the thigh. He’s so cute that Jungkook thinks he might genuinely die over it one day. How can he possibly withstand this type of cute aggression for the rest of his life? Because that is what he wants, to be with Taehyung until the end, even if it’s too early to say such a thing.

“I was nervous, okay,” Taehyung presses his shoulder against the door to give it a little push as he opens it. “Just saying it seemed easier than asking. Besides, I knew you wanted it, too.”

Winking, Taehyung gestures for Jungkook to enter the apartment first and grins when he notices Jungkook’s bright pink cheeks. Ridiculous. Taehyung is ridiculous. The only reason Jungkook is willing to let this slide is because Taehyung does get nervous when he’s put on the spot, as Jungkook quickly learned during their final presentation for their Art History class. Standing at the front of the lecture hall, Taehyung had forced his tail through his belt loops so it wouldn’t nervously swish back and forth and started off the presentation with wide eyes pleading for Jungkook to take the lead, but it went well.

The Kim residence reminds Jungkook of Taehyung’s dorm room and his father’s restaurant. It is bright and nature-toned, with plants in every corner and large windows providing natural lighting. It isn’t perfect, but it’s lived in, and Jungkook prefers that over something so minimalist that it’s sterile. Taehyung kicks his boots into the corner of the entryway and tosses his coat on the kitchen table as he walks past, meaning Jungkook should follow his lead.

“So it’s just you, your appa, and your sister?” Jungkook asks.

“Yup. It’s kind of small for three adults, but as a kid, it felt huge.” Taehyung shrugs. “We’ll both be out of the house soon, anyway.”

Jungkook folds his outerwear and neatly places it on the kitchen table, trying not to take up too much space. He’s hesitant about taking off his scarf. The bruise Taehyung left Jungkook when he bit his neck still hasn’t entirely disappeared, but Jungkook concludes that it would be more suspicious to keep his scarf on inside than to have splotchy skin.

“Your appa will be so lonely…” Jungkook looks around, taking note of the little pieces of Taehyung and Jiae scattered around the house — Taehyung’s pottery and Jiae’s soccer trophies. Recently, Jungkook has learned that both Kim children are exceptional athletes.

“Eh, he’ll be fine,” Taehyung says, intertwining Jungkook’s fingers with his. “I’ll give you a tour.”

It’s a bit of “organized chaos,” as Taehyung calls it. Clothes are strewn around the apartment, draped on the backs of the kitchen chairs and the arm of the living room couch. The whiteboard calendar on the fridge still reads “November” despite it being the beginning of December now, and there are kitchen appliances everywhere, including niche ones Jungkook can’t name.

“Appa is somewhere around here…” Taehyung thinks aloud, “Might be on the roof, though. There’s a garden up there. The one I told you about.”

Taehyung’s mother’s garden. Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t interrupt Taehyung as he shows off the chaotic apartment, even jiggling the doorknob of his sister’s room hard enough to force it open so they can take a peek at the disaster of boy band posters and too much pink.

“She’s such a girl,” Taehyung teases before ushering Jungkook down the hall to his bedroom. “At least she gets to keep her room, though. Appa turned mine into a fucking office.”

The last room on the short but thorough apartment tour is Taehyung’s, which is more like an office than a bedroom. It seems that Taehyung’s furniture—a bed, dresser, and nightstand—has been arranged in one corner to free up space for a desk, bookshelf, and filing cabinet that wouldn’t fit anywhere else in the apartment.

“Why does he need a filing cabinet? Who keeps paper documents anymore?” Taehyung shuts the bedroom door behind them.

When Taehyung turns around, Jungkook feels a shift in the energy between them. Having been uncharacteristically talkative, Taehyung suddenly grows quiet.

“You didn’t put your backpack down,” Taehyung notices with a frown.

Jungkook squeezes his backpack straps and shrugs, hoping Taehyung’s predator hybrid senses don’t ruin everything by noticing his nervousness. He’s trying to be chill, just as he tried when he first met Taehyung. It hadn’t worked then, and it probably won’t work now.

“I, um…” Panicking, Jungkook looks for a distraction, not ready to let Taehyung know why he still has his backpack with him. “Didn’t you say you wanted to give me something?”

Eyes widening, Taehyung rubs the back of his neck and averts his gaze. Why are the two of them being so awkward right now? It catches Jungkook off guard, making his chest tighten and his heart feel as though it’s being crushed by his ribcage.

“Tae—”

“Can you sit on the bed, please?”

Nodding, Jungkook sits on the edge of Taehyung’s bed, thinking Taehyung will follow him. Instead, Taehyung squats in front of the old wooden dresser. He pulls out the bottom drawer and looks through the clothing, no longer neatly folded, as he pushes it to the side. Whatever he’s looking for is buried deep in the back of the drawer beneath cable-knit sweaters and flannels.

“I wanted to keep it safe,” Taehyung mumbles once he pushes the drawer shut.

In Taehyung’s hand is a small pouch of blush velvet that matches the shade of pink blooming across Jungkook’s cheeks. Shy embarrassment makes his upper body feel hot. Though Jungkook was excited about the gift when he first learned of it, the reality of being presented with it is nearly too much for his little bunny heart to bear. With a frenzied heart, he takes the pouch from Taehyung, and his breathing stutters when their fingers brush, as though it’s the first time they’ve ever touched.

“I hope you like it,” Taehyung says softly, and Jungkook thinks he might explode.

Undoing the tie at the top of the pouch, Jungkook lets the contents inside slip out and fall into his hand. Rose gold and cold against his skin, the expensive bracelet shines in the natural light bathing Taehyung’s bedroom. It’s a simple gold band that comes together at the top of the wrist where the tiger-shaped clasp is. Decorated with sparkly white diamonds for eyes, the bracelet shimmers when Jungkook turns it to examine every little detail.

“It was my eomma’s. She didn’t wear it a lot, mostly just for fancy things. But she gave it to me when she… Well, she said I should keep it for someone special.”

“It’s beautiful,” Jungkook murmurs, too afraid to speak louder because he can already feel a lump growing in his throat.

Taehyung reaches out to take the bracelet. He turns it so Jungkook can see what’s engraved into the inner part of the bracelet.

“I found a jewelry shop that does engravings, so I got our names…” Taehyung’s face turns bright red, and his tail flips between his ankles faster than Jungkook has ever seen. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’ve been… ah, fuck , why is this so hard.” He exhales through pursed lips, making a silly sound when his lips flutter. “I’ve been courting you, and I’m supposed to give you something really nice at the end to ask if you accept me, okay? That’s what I’m doing. So. Yeah. That’s all.”

Thrusting his arm, Taehyung holds the bracelet for Jungkook to take back.

Taehyung never formally asked Jungkook to date him, but Jungkook knows that this means something more than just a silly title for a young relationship. Although prey hybrids have different customs, it’s easy to see how important this moment is for Taehyung. He’s unbelievably agitated. Not once has his tail calmed down, and now his hands tremble enough for him to shove them into the back pockets of his jeans.

Conversely, Jungkook’s infatuation makes him burn with an eagerness he’s never felt. He can’t help but smile, even when Taehyung frowns, and it feels good because Jungkook knows Taehyung well enough that he can tell the frown is because Jungkook has yet to say anything. Does he accept Taehyung? What a silly question!

“Tae,” Jungkook begins and thinks he can genuinely feel Taehyung grow tense from how suffocating the room is, “I would have accepted you with just the striped donuts. This is… this is more than I could ever imagine, Tae. I accept you, but I don’t know if I can accept something so special to your eomma.”

Shaking his head, Taehyung sits down next to Jungkook. He takes Jungkook’s face in both hands to slowly rub his thumbs across his cheeks, gathering the tears that stain them.

“You’re special, bun. She would’ve loved you. Probably more than she loved me.”

“Shut up, that’s not true.”

“It is, I swear! I gave her so much grief. You’re literally perfect.”

Jungkook’s giggle sounds wet and stuffy. He shivers as Taehyung pulls him against his chest so he can tuck his face against Taehyung’s shoulder.

“Baby, why are you crying?”

Jungkook tries answering Taehyung, but his words get muffled and lost, and he can hardly put the scrambled mess together in his own head. It takes a few minutes, but he eventually stops crying. It helps that Taehyung eases the backpack straps off Jungkook’s shoulders so he can rub his back in soothing circles. He hums a gentle purr and plants little kisses atop Jungkook’s head until Jungkook finally pulls away to look at him with glossy eyes.

“You’re really sweet, Tae,” Jungkook says with a soft smile that grows larger when Taehyung tries to look away from him. “You want to act like you’re not, but you are.”

“I’m alright, I guess.”

“You’re lovely.”

Taehyung’s ears flatten against his head, and he sticks out his tongue, reaching for Jungkook’s hand to squeeze it.

“Can I put it on you?” Taehyung takes the bracelet and clasps it around Jungkook’s wrist. It fits well, not too tight, and it doesn't slip down his forearm.

Jungkook can’t stop thinking about how pretty it looks and how important it is for him to keep it nice. He’ll cherish it for the rest of his life. This gift is not only a declaration of Taehyung’s love but also demonstrates the level of trust that Taehyung has in Jungkook to keep his mother’s beloved possession safe.

Taehyung rubs his wrist against Jungkook’s, scenting him before he pulls back so they can both admire how the bracelet looks on Jungkook. A thick band of rose gold, it’s pretty but isn’t dainty, instead solid and bold. Jungkook knows he won’t wear it always; he’ll be afraid to. Perhaps he’ll wear it on the days he wants to feel Taehyung’s love the most, so his love can be a tangible pressure on his wrist, pressed to one of the points of his heartbeat.

“I love you,” Jungkook whispers against Taehyung’s lips when he kisses him. He loves hearing Taehyung purr when he unexpectedly initiates a kiss, and he loves feeling the warmth of Taehyung’s hands on his body.

“I love you too, bun,” Taehyung whispers back, but he speaks into the corner of Jungkook’s jaw, then nips at each faded hickey down his neck. “Are you gonna tell me what’s in your backpack now? Or do you wanna keep stalling? I could come up with some ideas…”

“Taehyung.” The scold doesn’t mean much when Jungkook digs his fingers in Taehyung’s hair to hold him close as he scents him.

“Come on, baby. What are you hiding from me?”

Of course, Taehyung sees right through Jungkook and catches on to what he’s doing. It should be embarrassing, but Jungkook is too drunk on the feeling of Taehyung’s lips against his throat to care that he’s the most obvious person in the history of the universe. It doesn’t matter anyway. Jungkook has no reason to lie or hide things from Taehyung.

Though this is at least a little bit serious — in a good way, but still…

“How do you know I’m hiding something?” Jungkook stalls just like Taehyung guessed he would, though not in the way Taehyung might want.

Rather than respond, Taehyung pokes Jungkook on the tip of his nose. Like Taehyung has hit a magic button, Jungkook immediately scrunches his nose and giggles when Taehyung kisses the tip of it.

“Suyun told me you were courting me,” Jungkook admits shyly as he drags his backpack into his lap and unzips it.

“Of course she did.”

Jungkook buzzes with excitement even as Taehyung pouts. He holds all wiggles in, though. He can’t afford to have Taehyung teasing him during such a brave moment. Instead, he focuses his energy on not growing too nervous.

“Close your eyes,” Jungkook commands. He stares blankly at Taehyung until he follows his instructions, unwilling to tolerate Taehyung’s cheekiness when it gets in the way of an important moment.

Once Taehyung has obeyed him, Jungkook pulls out a thin, rectangular frame from his backpack and places it in Taehyung’s lap.

“Okay, you can open them now.”

When Taehyung saw Jungkook’s half-finished portrait, he’d sucked Jungkook off so good that Jungkook allegedly passed out. Jungkook didn't want to make any assumptions, and he’s still nervous from being in Taehyung’s dad’s apartment, so he tried not to imagine what Taehyung’s reaction would be after seeing the finished product.

“I know it’s not as fancy or as special as your eomma’s bracelet, but—”

Jungkook quiets when Taehyung presses his finger to his lips and shushes him while his amber eyes scan over the artwork.

“Baby, respectfully, shut up.”

The snort that comes from Jungkook is uncharacteristic. It feels like a Yoongi thing Jungkook must have picked up in the months they’ve lived together. Taehyung pays him no mind, though. He holds the frame up to admire the print. It’s colorful, glossy, and perfectly matted because Jungkook asked one of the digital photography students at their university to help him with it. The girl knew Taehyung; she swore to keep the print a secret and didn’t even charge Jungkook for help. That might be a testament to how sweet Jungkook is, but it could also indicate just how personable Taehyung is, that people are willing to do kind things for him without anything in return.

“Bun,” Taehyung says after spending a quiet moment with the portrait, “Please don’t downplay yourself like that ever again. You are an amazing artist. Your talent, god, bun… your talent is unreal.”

Taehyung is almost too serious when he speaks, and Jungkook feels the looming need to scoot away from him. He doesn’t, though, because he knows this is Taehyung working through his intense feelings for Jungkook, feelings that his predator hybrid instincts don’t know what to do with. Neither Taehyung nor Jungkook is hardwired for a relationship like theirs.

“Thank you.” Jungkook runs his fingertips along Taehyung’s clenched jaw and watches the tension slowly melt away when he pulls back his sleeve to scent him. “Having a gorgeous model is half the battle, actually.”

Ignoring Jungkook’s teasing, Taehyung slides his hand around the back of Jungkook’s neck to pull him closer.

“I love you, bun.”

Jungkook can’t answer, though he doesn’t need to. His lips speak in other ways when Taehyung slips his tongue between them. Unlike before, their kiss isn’t heated or rushed. It’s sensual, but Jungkook is learning that all intimacy with Taehyung, sexual or not, is still somehow sensual. But this kiss feels comforting rather than rousing. It lulls Jungkook instead of stimulating him, and he likes the reassurance that it brings.

"Is this your final courting gift, too?" Taehyung asks once they've finally detached from each other.

Jungkook blushes with a shy, "Yes."

Months ago, Yoongi told Jungkook that pursuing a predator hybrid would break his heart. For the first time in his life, Jungkook feels like his heart finally has a home.

“Would you like me to speak with your parents, Jungkook?”

“Oh, no, no, that’s okay!” Jungkook politely but quickly shuts down Mr. Kim’s offer. “They’re, uh, they would probably be upset if they heard it from anyone other than me.”

With an understanding smile, Mr. Kim resumes cleaning the kitchen, though his endeavor must begin with decluttering, considering all the appliances and utensils tossed around. It’s the life of a chef and restaurant owner, Taehyung had groaned as he complained about how long it would take for them to eat dinner when his father had created a disaster in the kitchen.

Jungkook is eager to scramble out of the kitchen and return to his spot on the living room couch with Taehyung, bringing two bottles of beer given to him by Mr. Kim.

“What was appa talking to you about?” Taehyung asks, before opening his mouth for Jungkook to give him a sip of beer. He looks like a baby bird waiting to be fed, and it makes Jungkook giggle despite how his stomach twists with new nerves.

“He asked me if I told my parents I’m staying with you for winter break yet…”

“Well, have you?” Taehyung raises his eyebrows, but he keeps his eyes on the TV.

Jungkook feels like he needs to remind Taehyung to blink occasionally, but he doesn’t. This is Taehyung’s first time playing video games; Jungkook may as well let him get the authentic gamer experience by fucking up his eyes.

“No.”

“Bun,” Taehyung’s scolding is cut short by a string of expletives when his video game character is murdered.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that Taehyung would choose to play a game about a virus that turns humans into vampires and the human hunters dedicating their lives to slaying them. Violent video games aren’t Jungkook’s preference, but it certainly feeds into the stereotypes about predatory hybrids.

“I’m nervous about it…”

“What’s the worst thing that’ll happen? They’ll get upset, and then they’ll get over it. It’s not like you’ll never come back ever again.”

Taehyung is right, but he’s also wrong. Is Jungkook being dramatic? Perhaps, but he knows his parents better than everyone else, and he knows that they are sensitive.

“Let me talk to them. Do a video call so they can see how handsome I am, and they’ll know you made the right choice.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook takes a few more sips of his beer to take the edge off his nerves before he gets up, phone heavy in his hand like a weapon or a ball and chain.

“Pray for me,” Jungkook mumbles into Taehyung’s hair when he kisses him.

“Tell them I’ll eat them if they’re mean to you. I like how bunnies taste.”

“Oh my gosh, Taehyung, your appa is right there,” Jungkook whispers harshly, but Taehyung’s boxy grin is the symbol of audacity.

Jungkook uses Taehyung’s bedroom to make the phone call. It takes a few minutes of Jungkook biting at a hangnail before he randomly chooses his father to call, having no idea which of his parents will be the least likely to be upset over the news. Jungkook wonders if other college students must worry about having this conversation when they go away for breaks.

Before visiting the Kims, Jungkook tried to do a roleplay scenario with Suyun and Yoongi to see if that would help him plan what to say.

Yoongi was too scary to talk to; Jungkook kept slipping up. The more he talked, the worse it got, until he was practically sharing the whole story of his romance with Taehyung to justify why he was choosing to stay with a predator hybrid.

“Well, don’t tell them what he is!” is what Suyun had insisted.

“True… I don’t have to. It would be lying, though. I’m so bad at lying!”

“It’s not lying. It’s just withholding information. Totally different.”

As usual, Jungkook thinks hanging out with predators changed Suyun — but probably for the better.

With a sigh, Jungkook sets his phone on speaker and lies on Taehyung’s bed, counting each ring and thinking that his heartbeat somehow harmonizes with it.

“Jungkook-ah?”

“Oh, eomma, hi. Where’s appa?”

Jungkook doesn’t think it matters which one of his parents hears the news first, but he doesn’t like being caught off guard. Despite being proud of how much confidence he has gained and the personal growth he has experienced since transferring to Seoul, Jungkook still feels like a kid when around his parents.

“He went into town for groceries but forgot his phone again. I think I need to buy him one of those watches. Do you know the ones?”

“A smartwatch?”

Despite their flaws, Jungkook loves his parents. It’s just that the love they all share for each other is different, and it isn’t always easy. Jungkook feels that love while his mother rambles about his father being forgetful, and he reminds himself that Taehyung is right. This isn’t the end of the world.

“Hey, eomma, I can’t talk for a long time right now, but I needed to tell you I have a boyfriend now…” Jungkook takes a deep breath and continues before his mother can respond, “And I’m going to stay with him and his family for winter break.”

The silence that follows is expected. Because of this, Jungkook hears the bedroom door open, and he nods when Taehyung asks for permission to come inside. He sits on the bed beside Jungkook, who is now lying on his stomach, and gently scratches the base of Jungkook’s ears.

“Oh. For the whole break?”

“Mhm.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”

Jungkook cringes. “I know, eomma. I’m sorry.”

Taehyung doesn’t seem offended. He plays with Jungkook’s hair and ears and keeps quiet to let Jungkook think.

“Hmm, Jungkook-ah, I hope he is treating you well. Is he smart? What is he studying? What do his parents do for a living?”

“Ah, please, don’t interrogate me!”

“I’m just asking simple questions every eomma should know.”

“We can talk later, okay? I will call you, and we’ll talk with appa, too.”

One day, Jungkook will tell his parents more than the bare minimum details about the boy who holds his heart. For now, Jungkook tells his mother he loves her and tosses his phone off to the side once the call ends so the pretty tiger, who smells like summer rain, can shower him with sweet kisses until all of Jungkook’s worries are washed away.

“I can’t wait to meet them,” Taehyung purrs against Jungkook’s throat, where he kisses him. “How many times do you think I should visit with them before I ask them if I can marry you?”

“Stop it,” Jungkook whispers, though Taehyung can’t tell if Jungkook is scolding him for what he said about marriage or for how he’s got Jungkook flat on his back with his leg hiked up over his waist so he can grind their hips together.

Both? Either? Jungkook doesn’t know.

“Did you know Jackson can officiate weddings?” Taehyung asks with a slow roll of his hips. They’re both in jeans and sweaters; Taehyung just likes being a tease.

“Taehyung.”

“I heard sex feels different after you’re mated.”

“Taehyung. You’re so gross.”

Jungkook throws his arms over Taehyung’s shoulders and crushes him against his chest, ready to drown in the giggles he earns in response, giggles from a big, scary tiger who is utterly whipped for his bun. Who would have thought?

Series Masterlist

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie).

#taekook #taehyung x jungkook #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #venor #jai writes #gimmethatagustd

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charlesslut16 · 4 months

Text

-Coffee date-

summary : you and george have a coffee date...

PAIRING : george russell x fem!student!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : i hope that you like it my lovies. And the request that i became about this was so cute, i just wanted to thank the person that requested this. <<<<<<3

december masterlist ; masterlist

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ As the winter sun began to set, you and George Russell found yourselves drawn to the warmth of a cozy café down the street, seeking refuge from the chilly December air.

The semester at your university had been a whirlwind of lectures, exams, and projects, but today, with the promise of a quiet coffee date, the weight of academic stress seemed to dissipate.

George arrived first, his cheeks rosy from the cold, his eyes brightening as he spotted you entering the café. You exchanged a grin, and his smile widened as he stood to greet you, pulling you into a warm hug that instantly melted away any lingering tension.

"Hey there, you," he said, his voice filled with affection. "How was your day?"

You settled into the seat across from him, shedding your coat and scarf off and hanging them on the chair. "It was good, but I’m so glad it’s over. How about you?"

George chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Long, as usual. But meeting you makes everything better."

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped you as you scanned the menu, eventually settling on a festive peppermint mocha. George, always the traditionalist, opted for a classic cappuccino.

As you waited for your drinks, conversation flowed effortlessly. Well, it always had been. As you had been dating for a while, you could talk about anything and everything and the conversation flowed effortlessly.

You reminisced about the highlights of the semester—the late-night study sessions that turned into laughter-filled moments, the shared triumphs of acing tough exams, and the little victories that made the challenges worthwhile.

The café was adorned with twinkling lights and garlands, emanating a warm and festive ambiance. George’s eyes sparkled as he shared his excitement for the upcoming holidays.

"I can't believe that Christmas will end so soon. It's my favorite time of the year," he said, his enthusiasm contagious. Everything he did, talk, smile, laugh, it was contagious.

When the steaming cups of coffee arrived at your table, you wrapped your hands around yours, reveling in its comforting warmth, as your hands were cold from walking outside.

Sipping the rich, Chocolatey drink, you couldn’t help but steal glances at George, admiring the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed and the passion that radiated whenever he spoke about racing.

Amidst the laughter and shared stories, the conversation turned to plans for the holiday break. George’s eyes lit up as he talked about spending time with family, sharing tales of his childhood traditions and the joy of reuniting with loved ones.

"You know, I was thinking," he began, his voice slightly nervous yet earnest. "Maybe we could plan a little trip during the break. Just you and me, somewhere cozy?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of a getaway together. "That sounds amazing," you replied, a smile spreading across your face. "I’d love that."

As the evening waned and the café started to fill with soft melodies of classic holiday tunes, you both realized the time had flown by. Reluctantly, you gathered your belongings, but the warmth of the memories made lingered.

Outside, the streets were adorned with twinkling lights, the air crisp with the promise of snow. Arm in arm, you strolled together, enjoying the simple pleasure of each other’s company, feeling grateful for this stolen moment amidst the hustle and bustle of the season.

As you parted ways, George pulled you into a gentle embrace, his warmth seeping into your being. "Thanks for today," he said softly, pressing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"Thank you," you whispered back, feeling the weight of the semester lift a little more. With a final lingering glance and promises of more moments like these to come, you both went your separate ways, hearts brimming with love, warmth, and the spirit of the holiday season.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fluff #george russell imagine #george russell x reader #george russel imagine #george russel x reader #george russell #george russell blurb #george russell x you #george russell fanfic #george russell icons #christmas #masterlist

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

Firehouse Harrington - Chapter 5

fireman!Steve x f!reader/f!oc

series masterlist

Steve is still recovering from his injuries. She's just trying to help. But tensions run high when they clash over who knows best.

warnings | 18+ SMUT, really rough sex, degradation kink, slight dubcon, also angst because, duh

a/n | wooh boy! I got a little carried away here, folks. Had the day off and couldn't help myself. get yourself a tall glass of water and sit down for a long one

“You’re healing nicely, son. I’ll send another refill script to your pharmacy for the oxycodone and I wanna see you back in a month, alright? Wanna keep an eye on those headaches you’re having.” Steve grunts out a thank you to the doctor as he’s led back to the front desk. After three weeks, he’s still not used to seeing her, sitting and waiting for him after his appointments at the VA medical center. She’s been coming with him whenever she can and he would hate to admit how much it means to him.

She offers him a bright smile from where she’s sitting in the waiting room, a large stack of index cards in her lap. With Thanksgiving next week, her exams are fast-approaching and she’s been studying so hard it makes Steve worry that she’s working herself to the bone, and that he hasn’t exactly been helping her stress-load. Since the week after Halloween, she’s all but moved in with him, save for when her RA job or classes demand she be on campus. She’s been taking care of him, and it both amazes and terrifies Steve that she’s willing to, while all he can really do is be a human rolodex for her endless supply of flashcards. She’s been having him quiz her in the evenings, her hands around his neck and her thighs straddling his waist as she rattles off insanely-smart sounding descriptions of the brain. His girl is studying neuroscience, and his girl is going to be a doctor, and then, Steve figures, his girl isn’t going to be his girl anymore. But for now, he’ll enjoy whatever sweetness she’ll give to him.

He finishes scheduling his follow-up, turning and finding her already standing with her bag slung over her shoulder. He opens the door for her and they step out into the sharp bite of the oncoming winter.

“Well, what did he say?” Steve’s apartment is only a few blocks away from the medical center, so they set off down the sidewalk as she asks her question.

“Said everything looks good. My next appointment is in a month, gave me another prescription for the painkillers.” He feels her hand flex in his and he knows it’s because she doesn’t like the sound of that.

“What about your headaches?” He shrugs, glancing at her and seeing the worried look on her face.

“He said he’d keep an eye on it, whatever that means.” She stops in her tracks, fully looking at him now. He just sighs.

“Steve, I really don’t like how they’re just feeding you these pills. Has anyone said anything about getting you in an MRI machine?” He huffs, tugging her along to continue walking.

“Baby, it’s fine. Nothing new, really. Once I get back to work it’ll go away on its own, it always does.” His paid-time-off is ending after Thanksgiving, and Steve is chomping at the bit to get back into the station, to her much-vocalized dismay. She stops walking again, and he tries his best to tamp down his growing frustration.

“I still think you should let me–” “No.” “Steve.”

“No. You’ve already done way too much for me. I’m not letting you do that.”

“You would be helping me out by coming in. You know I need the practice, i-it’d be killing two birds with one stone.” She had told him two weeks ago about one of her specialty courses at the university medical center, conducting brain scans and assessments that were free to volunteer patients. She had been bugging Steve about coming in ever since, but he was putting his foot down on this one.

“Hey, I’m sick of all this nagging, alright? I told you it’s fine and I meant it. Making my fucking headache worse, jesus. Just wanna get home.” He can see her face crumple at his words and his stomach twists, but he’s too pissed off and cold to really feel sorry, instead squeezing her hand and continuing their walk home. She’s silent the rest of the way.

…

Steve is really starting to worry her. At first, he had seemed to be making a change, being endlessly sweet with her, letting her take care of him, even opening up a bit about his life. She knows his concussion symptoms are lasting well within a normal amount of time, but it seems like some of them are getting worse. He’s been more irritable, more reactive, his headaches are endless, but he won’t listen to a word she says about it. She had talked to Robin over the phone about it, and she had told her his irritability could also be stemming from the impending holiday. Steve wasn’t exactly on good terms with his family, something he had only hinted at to her, and hadn’t been home for Thanksgiving or Christmas in five years. As a result, he turned into a bit of a scrooge (Robin’s words) the instant that the holiday season kicked up.

Perhaps more than anything though, she doesn’t understand why he’s so eager to get back to work after he nearly died on the job. She had actually started inquiring at her school about admittance for veterans, reading whatever information she could get her hands on. It’d be practically free at a state school like Indiana University, with vets nearly sure to be accepted. She hadn’t yet broached the subject with him, knowing it’d probably lead to a huge blowout argument, but she had convinced him to do Thanksgiving with her, just the two of them, and was planning to get him good and sedated on turkey and stuffing before bringing it up.

When they get back to his place after his appointment, he barely looks at her, mumbling that he’s going to lie down for a while. She already knows he’s going to be looking for his bottle of oxycodone, which she had flushed down the toilet that morning. She had talked to one of her supervising professors about the medication, posing questions from a place of clinical curiosity, and had learned just how wickedly potent the stuff was. Steve shouldn’t have been on it for more than a week max, and it was now coming up on a month of doctors filling the prescription for him. She had decided then and there that she was going to get him off it, kicking and screaming if she had to.

She sits down on the couch, pressing her fingers into her temples and waiting for his inevitable question about where his pills are. She can hear him rummaging in the bathroom, and then in the nightstands in his bedroom. All of the sudden, his movements still, and she can hear his bare feet padding back into the living room. Her heart sinks when she sees that he’s holding the pamphlets she had gathered about veteran’s admission to IU in his hand. She must have left them in the nightstand on her side of his bed. Shit. His expression is cool, steeled, as he waves the pamphlets in front of her.

“Care to tell me what this is?” Her mouth had gone completely dry, and a thickness settled in her throat.

“Um, I– um–” He cuts her off, shuffling over to stand in front of her, bending at the waist to get in her space.

“Um, um, um. C’mon, miss college. Thought you were a big girl. Use your words.” He’s practically sneering at her with the way he’s talking and it makes her feel impossibly small under his flashing gaze. She gulps a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

“Steve, I’m just trying to help–” He scoffs, standing back upright and starting to pace the floor.

“You think you know what’s best for me? Think you’re so much smarter than me, huh? Gotta help your poor, stupid boyfriend get along, is that it?” She shakes her head vigorously, going to stand but he’s back on her in an instant, resting his hands on the back of the couch to cage her between his arms. She shrinks back into the seat.

“That’s not what I think, Steve. I-I just want you to have options, that’s it! All I did was ask around in the admissions office, it doesn’t mean a-anything, baby. I just thought it’d be helpful for you.” He lets out a humorless laugh, his sharp eyes fixing her in place.

“Well it’s not. Quit trying to mess with shit you don’t understand.” With that he’s turning heel so fast it makes her choke, storming back into the bedroom. A beat later she starts hearing loud clattering.

“Where are my fucking pills? Goddamnit!” She jumps in her seat at his roaring words, punctuated by the sound of what she assumes is one of his nightstands getting thrown on the floor. She sits there for a moment trying to steady her breathing, the continuous sounds of slamming drawers and muttered curses coming from Steve causing her heart to jump. Finally, all the commotion stills and she thinks to herself that she liked it better when he was at least making sound.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she slowly stands, inching towards the bedroom on tenterhooks. She holds onto the doorframe, peering into the room. Both nightstands are tipped onto the floor, their drawers skewed open and the contents strewn on the floor. The wooden bureau that sits across from Steve’s bed has been shoved a few inches out of place, its drawers all open and the clothes usually neatly folded inside in various states of spilling out. Steve’s sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging harshly at the roots of his hair, his chest heaving. She really doesn’t want to do what she’s about to have to. She inches into the room, kneeling down in front of him to try to catch his gaze. She reaches out for him but he swats her hand away.

“Don’t. Fuck, baby. Don’t know where I put my damn pills. I-I need ‘em so bad right now.” His voice is a broken grumble and she feels a sharp twinge in her stomach at his words. It’s time to rip the band-aid off.

“Steve, baby? I know your head’s hurting, but you can’t keep taking those, ok? Why don’t I get you some advil? I know it’s not the same, but we can do that combined with tylenol and it should start to help.” He finally looks at her, and the anger in his eyes is breathtaking, causing her to sit back on her haunches.

“What did you do with them?” She takes a sharp breath in, watching Steve’s knuckles go white where he’s still tugging at his hair. She’s not going to let him scare her, not on this. She squares her shoulders, slowly standing in front of him. She hates that there’s still a warble in her voice when she finally speaks.

“I-I threw them away, Steve. They’re no good for you, and that has become painfully clear this afternoon.” His jaw goes slack at her words, but he quickly catches himself, swallowing hard and glaring up at her.

“Well, that’s not really your decision to make, sweetie.” He stands, brushing past her out towards the front door, starting to toe on his shoes. She follows dumbly behind him.

“Where are you going?” He doesn’t even glance at her, already shrugging on his coat.

“The pharmacy. Gonna get my new prescription since someone has to make everything so goddamn difficult.” She swallows hard.

“I-I called the pharmacy this morning too. Told them that under no circumstances should they fill any more oxy scripts for you. Steve, please–” He lets out a bark of laugh that startles her where she stands, whistling low as he finally sizes her up.

“You are something else, bunny. Really think you know better than me, don’t ya?” He’s started slinking towards her, causing her to back up until she’s pressing up against the wall. He presses a forearm up by her temple, leaning into her. She’s trying to not dissolve on the spot.

“Steve, that’s not what this is about. I-I talked with one of my professors about those pills. He told me it's some of the nastiest stuff out there. People get addicted to them all the time. Please, I just wanna help you.” His other hand has come down to grip her hip harshly, his fingers flexing into the skin and sure to leave bruises.

“Stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong and stop trying to play doctor on me. You wanna help? Here’s how you can help. If you’re so hell-bent on taking away my pills, my relief, I think it’s only fair you make it up to me, don’t you?” She’s trying to steady her breathing, but can’t help the light gasps that rise as Steve nudges the slope of her neck with his nose. He harshly grabs her jaw, forcing her gaze to focus on his steely expression. She hates that there’s already a simmering heat trailing down her spine.

“Words, now.”

“O-okay, Steve. I’ll m-make it up to you, w-whatever you want, baby. I’m s-s-sorry.” His smile is slick, not reaching his eyes.

“Want you on your knees, pretty. Can you do that? Be good for me and do what you’re told, for once.”

“Yes, Steve–” He cuts her off with a sharp squeeze to her jaw that makes her whimper.

“Not my name. Not right now.”

“Yes, daddy. I’ll be good for you.” Part of her wants to leave, just grab her bag and go. But she’s fixed to the spot by the way he’s looking at her. She figures it’ll be quick, a rough blowjob and then Steve will finally calm down, so she complies, kneeling down in front of him while he starts working at his belt buckle.

She goes to reach for his hips when he starts to unzip his jeans but he immediately swats her hands away.

“Uh-uh. You don’t get to touch. You don’t even get to think. That pretty head of yours has done enough thinking for a while. Just gotta sit there, open your mouth, and take it, you understand?” She nods as he comes behind her, drawing both her wrists back. When she feels the soft leather of his belt circling her wrists she shudders. She winces when he tugs the loop tight.

“C’mon, if you’re so smart why don’t you use your fucking words?” She gasps when he pulls on the belt, making her fall back onto her ass, her back crashing into his heaving chest.

“Yes, daddy. I understand.” Her voice doesn’t sound like her own anymore, entering that higher, breathier register that she knows only Steve can draw out. He grunts at that, squeezing her hips to help her back onto her knees before he’s getting up and coming back in front of her. He slips his jeans and boxers down just enough to tug his cock out, already hard as he fists himself. Stepping forward, he cards his fingers through her hair, tugging harshly to tilt her face up towards him.

“Open your mouth, bunny. You better be good for me.” She complies, letting her jaw slacken and Steve’s on her in an instant, forcing his thick cock past her lips as he holds onto her hair for leverage. She can’t help the small, sputtering chokes that come out around his length as he already begins fucking her mouth, getting deeper with each thrust. Normally, he’d give her time to work her way up to taking all of him, it wasn’t exactly an option to just go for it with his length if she didn’t want to gag. But Steve didn’t seem too concerned with that today, already grazing her throat with his tip.

“Fuck– that’s perfect– just take it, bunny– s’what your pretty little mouth is made for– don’t want you thinking– shit– or talking– just keep your lips around my cock all the time, huh?” She can’t exactly respond to his degrading words with the way he’s dragging her mouth up and down his cock, his fist in her hair guiding her. But she guesses he’s not really looking for a reply.

“What would your little egghead professors think– shit, take it– if they knew their star student spent her time sucking dick like a f-fucking whore, huh?” His words sting, but she hates to admit that they send a clenching ache right through her core too. Unfortunately, Steve seems to notice the way her thighs are clenching at his words and he lets out a jeering laugh.

“Aw, you like that, bunny? You like it when I call you a whore, huh? Guess you’re not as smart as you think you are, just a dumb slut for her daddy’s cock.” His thrusts are unrelenting, now hitting the back of her throat everytime, causing her to gag and sputter around his cock. She can’t help but wriggle her arms against the belt confining them, trying to find some purchase as he uses her mouth but with no success. On the next thrust, Steve’s hips still with his cock down her throat, her nose crushed up against his pelvis. Drool is dripping down her chin as she chokes around him. He just holds her there, and she starts to panic, trying to fight against the hold he has in her hair.

“You don’t need air, do you, pretty? Just need my cock down your throat, right? S’all you need, you stupid slut.” He finally relents, pulling out of her mouth and she’s a wheezing mess, coughing out exhales as she hunches over her shivering body. He’s still hard, but he tucks himself back into his boxers, watching her reel on the floor. Before she can catch her breath, he’s hauling her up by her armpits and pressing her back against the wall, her hands still bound behind her. The way he holds her jaw, fingers skating over her cheeks, is startlingly tender as he drinks in her cockdrunk appearance. His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks.

“Look at you, bunny. So pretty for me.” Something in her snaps, her lip starting to wobble as tears pool over her lashes. Steve sighs and she shivers under his delicate touch as he wipes away the first tears to fall.

“What’s got you crying, baby? I don’t like it when you cry, at least not very much.” His grin is sardonic and entirely patronizing as he watches her crumble. She’s trying to stifle the sobs that want to flood her body, her words coming out on heavy shudders.

“You’re s-s-so mean, Steve. I-I j-j-just wanted to h-h-help you.” He tuts, drawing his fingers under her chin to tilt her eyes up to his.

“Aw, you did help, pretty. You and that perfect little mouth of yours. And you know what else? I think you liked it.” With that, he wrenches one of his hands into the front of her jeans, cupping her cunt and stroking harshly through her folds. She lets out a broken gasp at his brutal movement. Steve just chuckles.

“See, bunny? You’re fucking soaked. All because daddy fucked your little throat, huh?” He easily slips two fingers into her, curving them in a way that makes her let out a long, preening cry. She stumbles in his grip, pressing her forehead into his shoulder as he starts fucking her with his fingers.

“P-please, daddy, it’s too much.” He scoffs in her ear, not letting up with his relentless thrusts.

“I know what’s too much for you, bunny. Daddy knows what’s best, right?” When she doesn’t answer, his other hand comes down in a harsh crack on the outside of her thigh and she yelps.

“Y-yes, daddy. You know w-what’s best!” She can feel his smile in her hair as he abruptly removes his fingers, causing her to slump in his hold.

“Atta girl, I think that little brain of yours is finally starting to get it right.” She can’t tell where the pleasure ends and the pain from his words begins, but she knows that the more he says, the more poison that drips off his tongue, the smaller she feels in his grip. Holding her in his arms, he walks them over to the couch, facing her towards the arm rest and bending her over it, her cheek smearing into one of the cushions. Her arms are still bound behind her back and she’s all but given up tugging at them, but Steve seems to notice her squirming.

“If I take the belt off will you be good for me, bunny?”

“Yes– yes, I will, daddy– please– be so good for you.” He shushes her, laying a kiss in the middle of her spine before finally unwinding the belt from her wrists. She flexes her hands, whimpering at the ache that’s already set into her joints. Steve presses a kiss to both of her wrists and she can’t help the shudder that runs through her at his gentle movements.

“There you go, baby. I know it hurts, I’m sorry. Gonna make you feel so much better.” His hands snake under her waist, undoing her jeans before sliding them down her legs. His rough palms splay over the swell of her ass, squeezing the flesh and making her gasp.

“Daddy’s gonna make you feel good, bunny. I promise. But, I just don’t think you’ve quite learned your lesson.” She jolts at that, craning her neck to look at him.

“No– I have! I promise I have, daddy!” He chuckles, catching her off guard when he lands a harsh smack to her ass that sends her lurching forward into the couch.

“You saying you know better than daddy, baby?” She shakes her head, burying her face into her forearms.

“N-no, daddy. Just don’t want it to hurt.”

“Aw, pretty, you won’t learn if it doesn’t hurt, yeah?” He runs his palms up and down her spine, a soothing before the storm.

“Tell you what. Since you’re being so good for me now, we’ll just do five alright? No belt, just my hand.” That’s a small mercy. She hates when he uses the belt, and he knows it. She sighs, nodding her acceptance.

“Does that first one count?” He chuckles, hands squeezing her hips.

“I don’t think so, pretty. That one was a warning, these five are punishment. You think your little brain can handle counting them for me?” She huffs at that, he’s twisting an already deep knife in her gut, but she nods.

The first blow is quick and she yelps out “one!” For a while after, he just rubs his palms on her ass to the point that her legs start trembling in anticipation. He abruptly lands the second and third in the same spot and she shrieks out the count. She already knows that he’s aiming to leave a mark. The fourth and fifth come quick too and she’s been reduced to a mess in the aftermath. Tears are streaming down her face and her whole body shivers under his touch, but she can also feel the wetness smearing across the inside of her thighs. Steve leans over her, draping his warm chest across her back and she reaches a hand back to grab onto his thigh.

“Did so good for me, baby. My good girl, huh?” He presses a kiss into her temple before he hoists her up, keeping her back pressed to his chest as she’s all but slack in his arms. He helps her step out of her jeans and panties, turning her around in his arms and letting her clasp her hands around his neck. She’s mute in his hold, pressing her face into his neck as his hands slide down her thighs to hoist her legs around his hips.

He pads into the bedroom, laying her down across his bed and slotting himself between her legs. She brings her hands to the hem of his shirt and he gets the hint, sitting back and shucking it off over his head. She thinks that she’ll never get used to it, seeing him bare. There’s strange scars along his abdomen, she assumes from previous burns, but he’s still the prettiest thing she’s ever seen, all tan muscle and the sweetest little freckles. He motions for her to sit up, slipping her shirt off when she does before pressing them both back into the mattress in a harsh kiss. His tongue invades her mouth immediately, wrapping her senses in a hazy fog of him. He pulls away with a hot gasp.

“Need to be inside you, baby. Need your pussy so bad.” She just sighs out his name, watching him lean back to tug his cock out of his boxers before dropping the heavy tip against her folds. She whines when he draws the head of his cock through her cunt, her wetness smearing over the length of him.

“Tell me you want it, pretty. Tell me you want me.” He dips into her entrance and she gasps at the feeling.

“I want it, Steve, please– want you now.” He rolls his hips forward in one smooth thrust that sends her reeling, her hands clinging to his back as she cries out at being entirely full with him. He groans into her neck, quickly finding a steady rhythm as he fucks into her.

“Fuck– pussy’s made for me, baby– so perfect– just take it.” He brings one hand down to toy with her clit and it makes her hips buck up into his as she chokes on his name.

“Come for me, pretty– need it so bad– you better fucking come right now.” Her release sneaks up on her and then she’s falling hard, spasming around his dick and digging her nails into his back. He isn’t far behind her, fucking her through her high before he thrusts into her one final time and spills inside her with a shivery groan. They’re both panting, laying entangled in a hazy stillness as they come down. The ache is already coming back into focus, in her wrists and along the swell of her ass. She winces hard when he finally pulls out.

He had certainly gotten her good and fucked out, but she’s all too quickly coming out of the haze, all the dark things he said resting heavy on her chest until it feels like she can’t breathe. She goes to get up, but he’s quick to stop her, bringing his hands to her shoulders to press her back.

“Woah, easy, baby. Just lemme take care of you.” She shakes off his hands, dipping under his hold to stand and shuffle into the bathroom.

“‘I’m fine, Steve. Just– give me a minute.” She scrubs her hands down her face before turning in the mirror to take in the sight of her mottled ass. Sure enough, there’s a perfect, blotchy, red handprint across her one cheek, it even looks like he broke skin around the edges. There’s little bruises dotting her hips as well from where he had dug his fingers in, and she hisses as she runs her fingers over them. It’s then that she catches sight of her wrists in the mirror, rubbed red and raw from his belt. Normally, she enjoyed this kind of thing, evidence of a good session with Steve. But right now, the sight of her weary body coupled with his words still swirling in her head just makes her want to cry.

“Baby?” She’s startled out of her thoughts by Steve’s hoarse voice. He’s leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest and a furrowed look across his face. She sighs, not quite able to meet his gaze as she brushes past him back into the bedroom. He’s following behind her mutely as she grabs her shirt, quickly pulling it back on before walking out into the living room to get her panties and jeans. She’s sliding her pants up her legs when he finally speaks again.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I think I should go, Steve.”

“What? What do you mean? Baby, I– you need someone to take care of you, lemme look at those bruises.” He goes to reach for her but she flinches, stepping back away from him. He stops dead in his tracks.

“All that shit that you said, did you mean it?” He gives her a confused look, but she presses on.

“Steve, your words really hurt me. All that talk about me being your stupid slut. I-It felt different, it felt like you meant it.” He swallows hard.

“I was just angry, baby. I didn’t mean that shit. You just– you caught me off guard with those– those fucking pamphlets– and then the pills. I overreacted, I–”

“I can’t keep doing this, Steve!” His face crumples in an instant at her words, and when he speaks, his voice is so small it makes her breath catch.

“Can’t keep doing what?” She huffs, throwing her arms out in frustration.

“This! All I wanna do is help you and all you wanna do is push me away. It’s-it’s absurd. Why you won’t stop being so fucking stubborn is beyond me. But then, you just get so nasty about it, so mean.” She lets out a bitter laugh, sitting down on the edge of the couch and holding her head in her hands.

“And the worst part is, I let you be that way to me. I keep trying to help you and you keep lashing out at me a-and I can’t take it anymore, Steve. I just can’t.” Her words seem to have left him speechless, he just stands there, his eyes searching her face. She huffs, standing and heading towards the front door. It’s silent as she shrugs on her coat and puts on her shoes, sliding her bag up her arm. When she goes to open the door, however, his large hand comes into view, pressing the door shut. She turns around to tell him off, but chokes on her words when she sees his face. His eyes are swimming in tears, his expression completely crumpled.

“Please don’t go, baby. I’m sorry– I’m so sorry. You know I didn’t mean any of that stuff I just– I got freaked out, ok?” She pinches the bridge of her nose with her fingers, squeezing her eyes shut to keep from crying anymore.

“You say that every time this happens, Steve. I can’t keep believing what’s obviously a lie.” And then, Steve does something she couldn’t have expected in a million years. He gets down on his knees in front of her.

“I swear it’s not a lie this time, I swear. I-I’ll go to a shrink like you want me to– I won’t take anymore of those pills, just– please don’t fucking leave me, baby. You-you’re so good a-and so smart and– I love you, I really fucking love you.” It’s the first time he’s said it, and she wishes more than anything that it had been under any other circumstance. For a moment, she wonders to herself how she got here, in only three months, completely entangled with this broken man. She’s startled out of her thoughts when he wraps his arms around her hips, burying his face into her stomach.

“Please, baby. You know I need you.” She tentatively rests her hand in his hair, feeling the way he slackens against her at the contact. She draws her fingers through his hair firmly, tilting his head back to look at her. She lets out a long sigh.

“Listen to me, Steve Harrington. This is it. I swear to god if you’re lying, if anything like today happens again? I’m gonna leave and I’m never gonna come back.” His eyes go wide at her words and he’s quick to get on his feet, cupping her face in both his palms.

“I promise, it’s never gonna happen again. Gonna be better for you. Love you so much, baby.” She lets him press a damp kiss to her lips before pulling back.

“Will you let me take care of you now, pretty?” She nods, having to admit that her skin is smarting under the rough material of her jeans. He gives her a sweet smile before taking her hand and leading her back into his bedroom.

…

She swears she could get whiplash from how quickly Steve can change, going so sweet on her the second he has her laid back out on his bed. He gently peels her jeans down her legs, having her turn over onto her stomach while he rubs aloe lotion into her welts, murmuring apologies as he works. He thumbs at her wrists before kissing each, letting her turn onto her side while he slides behind her, wrapping her up in his arms. She’s exhausted from everything and falls asleep easily, moored by the steady rise and fall of his solid chest pressed into her back.

When she wakes up, it’s much later, the sun already setting on the city. Steve stirs behind her, grumbling into her neck.

“Can you stay tonight?” She hums her affirmation. She’s off RA duty until tomorrow and doesn’t have morning classes either, she can stay. Steve sighs. Her voice is hoarse when she speaks.

“How’s your head?” He groans.

“Hurts. I’ll take some advil.” Relief floods through her system that he really has seemed to drop the prescription debate.

“You can probably take a higher dose than normal, just for a little while before it starts getting better.” He sighs again, a seeming acceptance of her words. She wills herself to believe that it will get better.

“You hungry, baby?” She hums another yes to his question, turning in his arms to look at him.

“Should probably get something in you before you take anything too.”

They order takeout from her favorite spot, something Steve does every time he’s had to apologize to her. She’s had a lot of takeout in the last three months. She hopes this time really is different.

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington au

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astra-ella · 2 months

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𝐙𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

fandom: haikyuu ship: nishinoya yuu x oc/reader status: complete ao3 link

"I think you're really pretty. Will you go out with me?" That was the first thing he's ever said to her. And needless to say, Amari Chiyo was not impressed. So as promised, Nishinoya Yuu will get to know her better and confess again. And again. And again. And again. It'll take 6 years and 9 confessions, but he'll get there. Eventually.

⌦ content: fluff, light angst, love at first sight, friends to lover, slice of life

⌦ note: you are free to insert yourself into Chiyo, just keep in mind she has her own character/backstory. i know some people don't like that, so just a heads-up.

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The fifth time he confessed was a little less than a year later — a few months into their first year of high school.

After a few grueling months of study sessions and a little bit of luck, Nishinoya barely managed to scrape by on the entrance exams. They went to the results board together on that cold winter day, along with Hotaru and Kaito. Neither of the kids were surprised to see Chiyo’s number there, but when Kaito somehow caught Nishinoya’s exam number on the bottom right while perched on his shoulders, they celebrated with so much enthusiasm Kaito nearly lost his balance and fell off.

So when April rolled around, Nishinoya and Chiyo were once again attending the same school. Though with Chiyo’s better grades, she ended up in Class 1-4 – a college preparatory class – while Nishinoya was put in Class 1-2.

The day club applications began, Nishinoya immediately joined the volleyball club. He encouraged Chiyo to join a club of her own or even run to become a class rep again like she had in middle school, but she refused.

Instead, she put all her energy into applying for a part-time job. She was hired at a small media and repair store near school, run by a little old lady and her grumpy calico cat. They sold all kinds of electronics, from old VHS tapes to the newest gaming consoles. They also had a huge catalog of DVDs that the old lady often insisted Chiyo borrow for the week to watch on her own.

Despite the two of them being in different classes and volleyball practice running longer than they did in middle school, Nishinoya’s visits never stopped. He’d drop by after a quick text, eat dinner, do homework, play some volleyball with Kaito, watch a movie then head home for the night. He became such a regular presence that even Chiyo’s father, who was rarely home due to his busy schedule, knew his name and often included his portion whenever he brought back desserts for the kids.

Chiyo would scold him, telling Nishinoya to go home to rest and that his body must be tired after a long day of volleyball and school. To which Nishinoya would simply remind her that he had to return the lunch box she brought him. Something Chiyo started doing after she found out Nishinoya often only bought banana bread for lunch from the school store.

And that day, Chiyo was on her way to the gym as usual. She preferred to deliver his lunch in the mornings, right after she got to school. Like that, she wouldn’t have to spend her lunch time trying to track him down between the classroom, the gym, or the vending machine.

As she climbed the staircase, she could hear the sharp screeches of sneakers scraping against the gym floor. Despite not being a powerhouse school, Karasuno seemed to take volleyball pretty seriously.

“Nishi-”

“Kiyoko-san!” Before she could call out to him, the sound of two boys’ boisterous voices interrupted her. She instinctively hid around the corner so as not to bother them. It took a second before it registered in her head that one of the two voices belonged to Nishinoya.

“Kiyoko-san, do you need any help carrying anything?” Someone asked.

“Kiyoko-san, you look beautiful as always today!” Nishinoya shouted.

“No thanks.”

Chiyo felt her heart drop.

She snapped her head around in time to see Nishinoya and a boy with short, fuzzy blond hair run up to a girl just as she entered the gym from the back door. He wasn’t kidding. With shoulder-length black hair and large black eyes, the girl had an air of adult maturity to her, someone who was stoic and passionate yet aloof with their intentions.

Suddenly, the name Kiyoko jogged her memory. Nishinoya had mentioned her during dinner a few months back when he told her all about the club. Her name was Shimizu Kiyoko and she was their one and only manager.

He spoke highly about her, going on and on about how pretty and responsible she was. But Chiyo had always sort of disregarded his comments. After all, Nishinoya did the same thing with a character in their old literature textbook. But seeing him fawn over another girl, a real one at that, made Chiyo’s heart clench with an emotion she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Guys, stop bothering- Oh!” An upperclassman with short brown hair approached the gym from behind her. “Hey, are you looking for someone?”

Chiyo blinked. “Um, I’m looking for Nishinoya. I have his lunch.”

“Nishinoya!”

“What is it, Daichi-san, ah!” Nishinoya’s eyes lit up upon seeing her. “Amari!”

As he began to make his way over, Chiyo suddenly felt the urge to run. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and in the moment, she wanted to be anywhere but there. But she still had his lunch in hand, and there was a part of her that stubbornly wanted to complete the delivery.

“Here,” she shoved the neatly-packed boxed lunch in his hands, not even bothering to make eye contact. “It’s leftovers from last night, so don’t expect too much.”

“I’m sure it’s delicious,” Nishinoya took the box and grinned. “Thanks as always!”

“Noya-san, this girl’s always bringing lunch for you. What’s up with that?” At this point, the boy with blond hair began to approach them. His eyes then widened as an idea dawned on him. “Wait, don’t tell me she’s your girlfriend or something?!”

“She’s-”

“No, I’m not!” Before Nishinoya could respond, Chiyo cut him off perhaps a bit too loudly. “I’m just his middle school classmate. I’m only making him lunch 'cause if I don’t he’s just gonna end up buying banana bread for lunch and be short forever.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You have your lunch now, right?” Meeting Nishinoya’s offended look with a sharp one of her own, Chiyo quickly turned on her heel. “I’m leaving. Bye!”

She walked briskly away, feeling more and more breathless the further away she got from the gym. She wanted to outrun it all, the sound of her beating heart, the emotions that bubbled in her chest and the hot tears that pricked at her eyes. When she saw Kiyoko, all she could think about was the day he first confessed to her under the cherry blossoms nearly three years ago. She had warned him that he would lose interest overtime. But when faced with reality, she felt like she was the one who lost something.

Her steps slowed as she reached her classroom. It then occurred to her that this wasn’t anything new. Nishinoya has been fawning over other girls for as long as she’s known him. And thinking back on it, the only reason he gave for confessing to her initially was because she was pretty, nothing more.

A classmate opened the door, cocking her head curiously at Chiyo who stared up at their classroom tag in a daze.

“Amari-san? What’s wrong?”

Chiyo looked at her.

“Boys are stupid.”

After her shift at the media store that evening, Chiyo was surprised to find Nishinoya waiting outside with two soda-flavored popsicles.

She initially thought that he wouldn’t want to speak to her for at least a good while, after how strangely she behaved in front of his teammates. But to her surprise, he simply gave her his usual greeting and smile before tossing the extra popsicle in her direction.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

“Oh, okay…”

As they set off, Nishinoya tore his popsicle packet open and began chomping down. Chiyo watched him, fidgeting at the sound of crinkling plastic.

“Hey, Nishinoya,” she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry about what I said today.”

He gave her a confused look. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I… I called you short in front of the entire volleyball team,” she murmured, still refusing to make eye contact. “I didn’t mean it. I was just in a bad mood and I… I’m just really sorry.”

"Oh, what, that?" Nishinoya scoffed. "Don't sweat it, it's whatever. Kaito's been calling me that for like a year."

“Kaito’s still young,” Chiyo shook her head. “But I… should’ve known better than to make petty remarks like that.”

“Like I said, don’t worry about it,” he waved a hand before quickly finishing his popsicle in two bites and checking the stick. “Dang, another dud.”

Chiyo’s lips quirked up a little before falling. “So Shimizu-senpai, huh?” She opened her popsicle packet. “She’s really pretty.”

“Wait, you know Kiyoko-san?!”

Nishinoya sounded so excited and Chiyo felt a lump forming in her throat. “I saw her when I dropped off lunch for you today.”

“That’s right, that’s right,” he tossed the wooden stick into a public trash can. “Yeah, she’s super pretty, isn’t she? A literal goddess. I heard she’s been the club manager since last year.”

Chiyo nodded before averting her eyes, pretending to admire the street view she’s seen more than a hundred times already. “Well, I better not hear any more of your random confessions from now on,” she said half-jokingly.

“Huh, what are you talking about?” Nishinoya stopped walking. “I still like you, Amari.”

Chiyo nearly dropped her popsicle. She turned to look him in the eye.

He was dead serious.

“Why would you say something like that?” She snapped, immediately losing all composure.

Nishinoya cocked his head to the side. “Because it’s true.”

“What do you mean ‘because it’s true’?” Chiyo’s eyes widened with exasperation. “You were literally just gushing about how pretty Shimizu-senpai is. Don’t tell me you’re like one of those sleaze bags in shoujo manga that’ll flirt with anyone you find even mildly pretty.”

“What? No! I mean yeah, Kiyoko-san is pretty and all. But,” he then thumped his chest with a confident smile. “In the end, my heart will always belong to you.”

Her lips parted slightly.

“Don’t say stuff like that, you idiot!” Those were the first words she found herself able to say. “You idiot. You’re such an idiot! The biggest idiot that’s ever existed in the history of idiots!”

“I’m not an idiot!”

“Yes, you are! You’re a shallow, stupid idiot!” Chiyo shouted back, trying to ignore the sore feeling in her nose. “You can’t tell me you don’t have even a little bit of a crush on her. I saw you and that blond kid trying to get all cozy with her. You even call her by her first name even though you’ve only known her for like, what? Two months?”

“Amari, I-”

“I’m completely fine with being friends with you, Nishinoya,” she cut him off, trying her best to avoid his pointed gaze. “I just… I don’t want to date someone who only wants to get to know me half-heartedly.”

Nishinoya rubbed his forehead, eyes flickering up to glance at the setting sun. Taking a deep breath, he then gingerly took her hand and pried her fingers off the hem of her jacket sleeve.

“Look, Amari,” he spoke as softly as he could. “Kiyoko-san to me is more like… a goddess. Someone you put on a pedestal and admire, but still way outta your reach. But when I’m around you, I feel… way more comfortable. Like when I get to see you at home cooking dinner, not giving a damn about your hair, and getting mad at us, I get really happy. Cause it feels like a side to you that only I get to see.”

He looked up to see Chiyo’s dark blue eyes glassy with what seemed to be tears.

He mentally cursed himself.

“I get what you mean though,” he gave an awkward chuckle. “I mean I literally asked you out the day we met without knowing anything about you. But I promised to get to know you better, and you know…” there was a faint tug at his lips. “The more I get to know you, the more I like you. So trust me. I’d never ask you out with anything other than pure intentions, m’kay?”

Chiyo felt her heart stop as he smiled at her. Her breath was caught in her throat, and when she reminded herself to breathe again, her heartbeat became so erratic she was sure the entire prefecture could hear it.

“Y-You idiot!” Those were the only words that came out when she found her voice again.

“Wha-?” Nishinoya looked genuinely confused. “Why am I still an idiot?”

“Because you just are!” Chiyo turned away, biting down on her popsicle in a feeble attempt to stop the rising heat in her cheeks. She couldn’t understand how he could say something so cringey with a straight face. She then peeked over her shoulder, watching as Nishinoya became lost in thought, wondering exactly what he said that made him an idiot.

“But… Do what you want, I guess,” she murmured just loud enough for him to hear.

Nishinoya’s eyes lit up.

“You got it!”

After that little kerfuffle, the two of them continued on their way home under the setting sun when Nishinoya spoke again.

“But you know, if you wanted me to call you by your first name, you could’ve just asked.”

Chiyo averted her gaze. “When did I ever say that?”

“You got all jealous over how I call Kiyoko-san by her name,” he reminded her with a mischievous grin. “Come on, I’ll start calling you by your first name too.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” she grumbled.

“Come on, Chiyo.” Ignoring her obviously false remark, Nishnoya poked her arm. “Say it. Yuu~”

Chiyo’s eyes wandered from their surroundings to Nishinoya to her feet. She pressed her lips together, struggling for a moment to find her voice.

“Y-Yuu…” Her voice was barely a whisper.

Satisfied, Nishinoya smiled. “I like you, Chiyo.”

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#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x oc #hq #nishinoya #nishinoya x oc #nishinoya yuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya x y/n #nishinoya x you #haikyuu x you #hq x reader

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bluemoonhoon · 4 months

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santa doesn’t know you like I do

jake sim x fem reader mini series smau

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NINE

Jake didn’t remember the moment he fell in love with yn ln, which was weird because sim jaeyun was always a boy with a good memory; He remembered seeing 7-year-old yn playing alone in the park of his new neighborhood rocking a teddy bear on a swing; while all the kids were screaming and running around, yn played with the bear as gently as you would treat a baby. Little Jake felt genuine curiosity for the girl in pigtails and ribbons that oddly matched the bow of her bear, and when he talked to her in his limited language after moving to a new country and she answered him with a voice softer than the wind of that day; little seven-year-old jake knew at that moment that he wanted to know more of her.

Yn loved the Christmas season, Jake knew that pretty early on in their friendship, she loved winter, hot drinks, and the bright colorful lights that December brought, he remembered 10-year-old yn helping him and his family put up the Christmas decorations as soon as Jake birthday passed, yn was always a curious girl so when she asked “why are there only 4 puppies?” while organizing the ornaments for the tree and Jake explained his family tradition “we have one for each member of our house” and even though she smiled and told him how much she loved that, a part of him felt a yearning feeling in her voice.

He remembered yn at 15 crying in her new bed because the moving truck lost her teddy bear, where the only comfort her parents gave were the cold words telling her to “stop making a big deal out of this, teenagers don’t have teddy bears” he remembered hugging her so hard in hopes of helping her hurt less and he remembered the face of yn at 16 when Jake gifted her a teddy bear with a pink bow in her birthday with a note that said, “we can’t replace bear but you can have someone that helps you remember him”.

he remembered yn at 17 counting days for the college entrance exam, studying and sending applications to the farthest universities possible, he remembered her excitement when her acceptance emails arrived (which was even bigger than the joy she expressed when her high school crush asked her on a date) and he remembered her even bigger smile when they decided to go to the same college.

he remembered yn at 18 packing all her life in a suitcase before going away from her hometown, how even if she wasn´t smiling, her eyes had these hopeful sheen, relieved for finally leaving, and how the whole car ride was her waiting for the fresh air of a city without surreal expectations on her.

he remembered yn at 19 asking him to be roommates during summer break because she hated sharing showers in the dorm building, he had never agreed to something faster, just like 7-year-old jake, 19-year-old jake still wanted to spend more time with yn.

he remembers yn at 20 running to his room to tell him she got her first internship at a clinic, he remembers 20-year-old yn waking up at 3 am to make him a cup of coffee and pat his back while he was working on a project, getting sweets for them after her work, he remembers getting texts asking for him to get stuff for the grocery store on his way home, he remembers yn face when he forced her to try a new recipe for a dish he saw online, he remembers loving the routine that he fell in while living with yn.

He saw her relationships come and go, he started dating too, and he liked the girls he dated at the time, and he liked seeing yn coming home happy after a date; but at the end of each relationship and each heartbreak either his or hers, jake always wondered what would it feel to be loved by yn. he tried not to think of the what ifs as often, maybe once every full moon, but he could never bring a conclusion to his own secret dilemma: he found someone who knew him inside out, who was next to him in all his ups and downs without expecting anything back and he was pretty sure he knew yn in the same way, there were times where they wondered if they shared the same mind; but that only made jaeyun more hesitant over his romantic feelings because if he confessed them and it did not work out, he would be throwing away a friendship that gave him the best moments of his life.

he loved her, he always knew it, and as they grew up, that love he felt grew and transformed with him. he didn´t know what made him realize it: it could be the sleepless nights they share now in college or the gifts she makes for his birthday, it could be her hugs and how warm she felt, it could be how well she knew him or how they've shared pretty much half of their life together. but he was never brave enough to face the consequences of that fact.

he didn´t know what he was going to tell her the moment she walked through the door: he didn´t know if he was going to keep up with the lie or not, he didn´t know if it was a small argument or if it was going to affect their current relationship; he just knew he was going to say he was sorry, he was sorry for his attitude, and he was sorry for not being able to explain why it happened. he just knew he hoped she would forgive him and he hoped she wouldn´t leave the house angry anymore; he knew if that happened he would spend another sleepless night and he just hoped in this one his heart will finally calm down.

Jake couldn’t remember the moment he fell in love with yn ln, he always just knew that her presence was one of the most important things in his life, and he would go ages without telling her how he really felt only to keep seeing her smile for the rest of time.

taglist: OPEN (@ghostiiess, @02zluvbot, @greenmilkyee, @addictedtohobi)

#enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #sim jaeyun #enhypen smau #enhypen jake sim #enhypen x reader

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soleilceirinen · 5 months

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Renaissance | teacher!Cillian Murphy x fem!Reader - Part 12

Summary: you are an Art History student in your last year at university. Cillian is your teacher. A/N: in this story Cillian is about 20 years older than the reader. Everything happens in an alternative universe where he is not an actor or famous, he doesn't have a wife or kids like in real life. Also, English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistake! MASTERLIST - Part 11 - Part 13

You were one of those people whose mood was affected by the weather. And winter had finally arrived. The days were considerably shorter, with fewer hours of daylight and bone-deep cold. This morning when you woke up, you couldn't help but feel especially sad. Today was your birthday and you felt lonelier than ever in the last months. At least it was Friday and the week was almost over.

At that moment you were sitting in class, at your usual spot by the window. In addition to being bored as hell, you were freezing.

Your teacher was a very old man who spoke so monotonously that if you closed your eyes you could fall asleep. In fact, he was already retired but decided to return to the university to replace a sick professor. His methodology for teaching classes consisted of showing photographs of architecture taken by himself (forty years ago), while pointing with the cursor and saying: "this is that and that is this. Do you see it?"

You looked around, only to find about ten people spread throughout the classroom. They all had the same bored faces.

At this point in the semester, almost no one attended class, people preferred to stay home or go to the library to study for exams, or sleeping. That was what you wanted to do, go back to your small home where your bed was waiting for you and hide under the covers until the next day.

No one had wished you a happy birthday yet.

To make things worse, Cillian was gone. He had been away all week because he was invited to speak at a symposium in a different city; he would not return until Saturday morning. So you hadn’t seen him all week because all his classes had been cancelled as well as your tutoring sessions.

Once your teacher finished the lecture you picked up all your things and headed home without wasting time. At least you were close. After eating the first thing you found in the refrigerator, you resigned yourself to going out again even though you didn't feel like doing it at all.

Just before you grabbed the keys to leave, your phone buzzed. You checked it out of habit, just to see that Olivia had written you a long message wishing you a happy birthday along with a gif of puppies. You couldn’t help but smile at her effusiveness.

Maureen and Laura weren't there either.

That week the gallery was participating in an art fair so they left, leaving you in charge. Usually, with such small art galleries, having to go to a fair meant closing for several days but since you were there, at least they wouldn't stay closed for so long. Being left in charge made you feel mature, you could almost imagine yourself in a few years having your own art business. Although in reality, you weren't entirely sure of what direction to take with your professional career since research also caught your attention.

Only a couple of clients came in to pick up works they had purchased, and a few groups of fine arts students. They always used to walk through the gallery as if it were a museum but they never bought anything.

A couple of hours before closing Maureen called you to see how the afternoon was going, after wishing you a happy birthday, she told you that you could close early and go celebrate. You thanked her, although you wouldn't go anywhere this year.

After waiting for half an hour, you came to the conclusion that no one else was going to enter the gallery, so you followed Maureen’s suggestion and closed it. Instead of going directly home, you decided to stop at the grocery store and buy something pre-cooked for dinner. You didn’t feel like cooking after all.

Once in your studio, you lit some candles to make the atmosphere a little cosier in an attempt to feel like home. You breathed in the scent, it was your favourite smell. Then, you put on your pyjamas and heated up the food, sitting on the couch ready to watch a movie. Outside it had started raining, as a perfect reflection of your current mood.

Halfway into the movie your phone started ringing. You looked at the screen lazily only to find out that Cillian was calling. You picked up and brought the device closer to your ear.

“Hey”, you greeted him.

“How is my birthday girl? How was your day?” His voice caused a wave of warmth to spread through your chest.

“Fine”, you told him weakly, which he noticed.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

You sighed, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Yes, it’s been a tough week, that’s all. And today wasn’t much better.”

He seemed to think for a few seconds in which he remained silent. When he talked again, his voice was softer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Shooking your head, you let out a sight. “No, I don’t feel like talking about it. Thank you though, Cillian.”

He hummed in response, understanding that you weren’t in a good mood. In an attempt to lighten up your spirits, Cillian started talking about his week, the conferences he took part of, he told you of the interesting ones thinking that you would have enjoyed them and the boring ones too. He even managed to make you laugh a couple times, although you didn’t respond with anything other than monosyllables.

“...and then I felt something on my shoulder and when I looked down I saw this old lady, one of the lecturers, and she was fast asleep leaning on my shoulder!” Cillian laughed at the other side of the line and you smiled.

“You are comfortable to sleep on, Cillian. Don’t try to deny it”, you joked. He huffed, amused.

“The poor lady was snoring, Y/N.”

“I feel kind of bad for her, that must have been a bit embarrassing.”

“Absolutely”, he agreed. “By the way, Y/N, I know you don’t want to talk about it right now but let me tell you that if you need to talk to someone about whatever, just know that you can call me. It doesn’t matter the time or where I am, just call me. Alright?”

Cillian’s sudden words left you speechless. A knot was starting to form in your throat. “Alright, Cill. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, Y/N. I love you, I’m here for everything you need, remember that. I’m going to bed, my train leaves early tomorrow morning. Sleep well, darling.”

“Good night, Cillian”.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

After hanging up, you realised that you were crying. Something as simple as a phone call had made you feel loved. More than ever during that week you wished that Cillian was there with you.

The next morning you woke up with more energy than the previous days so you decided to bake something. After looking for an easy recipe, you decided to make chocolate chip cookies. Everything was going as planned, the cookies were in the oven and the dishes were draining after being washed. All that was left was waiting.

The doorbell rang, giving you a micro scare. A minute later you heard knocking on your door.

When you opened it, the first thing you noticed were a pair of blue eyes crinkled at the corners the moment you appeared in front of him. Cillian was standing at your door, wearing the fluffiest sweater that you had ever seen. You let out a small scream of joy and wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in the soft fabric of his sweater.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up, hugging your body tightly. The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, hugging in silence.

“I wasn’t expecting you, Cill”, you finally said smiling widely, with your cheeks slightly blushed.

“I told you my train left early, I can leave if you don’t want me here”, he said, erasing the smile from your face.

You frowned and grabbed his wrist, pulling him inside your home and closing the door.

“No!” You complained. “I didn’t mean that. I was just surprised to see you”, you started rumbling, making him laugh quietly.

He reached and caressed your hair. “I know, Y/N. I’m just messing with you.”

You let out a puff and sat next to him on the couch, legs crossed. Cillian put a large hand on your knee and gave it a squeeze. “Close your eyes”.

“Why?”

He gave you a look that said do as I say. “It’s a surprise, eyes closed now.”

Sighing, you obeyed. With your eyes closed you sensed his weight leaving the couch and positioning behind your back. You opened your eyes when something cold touched the base of your throat, a small ornament hung from a thin gold chain. You held it between your fingers delicately, it was beautiful.

You looked at Cillian, who was staring at you expectantly, crouching at the side of the couch to be at your height.

“So? What do you think?”

“Is really pretty”, you whispered, biting your lip.

“I have one too,” he confessed, showing you the matching chain. “I saw them in an antique store and thought of you.”

“Thanks, I love it.”

It really meant a lot to you, the fact that he thought of you while he was away. Even the way he was looking at you at the moment, with a glint of adoration, made your heart ache. You felt your eyes beginning to fill with tears, so you throwed yourself towards him and embraced his shoulders while inhaling his scent.

Cillian grabbed the sides of your face, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs before kissing you. When your lips parted, he whispered against your mouth.

“Happy birthday, Y/N”.

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x y/n #teacher x student #alternate universe #cillian murphy x fem!reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfiction #reader insert

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blurredcolour · 2 years

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一期一会 | ichi-go, ichi-e | Part One

一期一会 | ichi-go, ichi-e Masterlist

Summary: The Tokyo premiere of Elvis brings Austin Butler into your life. He proves difficult to treat as just another client, and the effects of your choices will have lasting consequences.

Pairing: Austin Butler x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Language, Sexual Tension, Longing Glances, Brief Violence, Mentions of Alcohol Consumption, Mature/Explicit Themes [oral and manual stimulation - f receiving, penetration, unprotected intercourse] - 18+ Only

Disclaimer: For entertainment purposes only. This story is in no way based on fact. The rumoured bar fight between Austin Butler and Ezra Miller has been disproven. This is only an exploration of one possible explanation. The thoughts and experiences of life in Japan are based on my own experience of living there for nearly seven years and may not reflect the thoughts and experiences of others.

Inspiration: This fantastic gif set courtesy of @carnevol

Word Count: 10,208

--------✿❀✿------✿❀✿------✿❀✿------✿❀✿--------

“Sources close to Austin tell TMZ the incident never happened, and Austin never even stepped foot in a pub during his time in Japan as the initial claims suggested. Not to mention, the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department tells TMZ they have no record of the incident.”

You smile to yourself as you skim through the article on TMZ, body jostling with the movements of the packed rush hour train taking you home to your Asakusa apartment after another long day. It had worked. The best ¥20,000 you’d ever spent. Sliding your phone into your purse you shift your eyes to the scenery flying by the window, letting your mind wander back a few days.

══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══

The morning of June 28, 2022 promised to be hot and clear in Tokyo. The rainy season was not living up to its name this year, with temperatures much hotter much sooner than expected. The weather, however, was the furthest thing from your mind at 5 AM that morning.

After years of studying, of working your way up the rigid corporate ladder, you were finally being deployed on a translation assignment. Sadly, not as one of the primary translators assigned to the celebrities in Tokyo to promote Elvis over the next few days, but even being an alternate was an achievement.

It was not common for people born outside of Japan to be hired by translation companies, but since arriving in Japan five years ago, you had immersed yourself in the culture and the language. It had not been difficult to do so; your teaching assignment from the government had you living in a fishing village on the northern island of Hokkaido. It had been in your best interest to learn to communicate with the locals. Long, dark winter nights had been perfect for studying, and you had measured your progress by taking the Japan Language Proficiency Exams twice annually.

As your teaching contract came to an end, two years ago now, you had just achieved the level of N1, native speaker, and thought you may as well shoot for the stars when you applied to work for a translation company in Tokyo that often provided services to the entertainment industry.

By some miracle, they had actually taken a chance on you. The first year, you had not stepped out of the building on assignment once; in charge of arrangements by phone, making tea for the office, observing your superiors.

When that didn’t make you up and leave, you were slowly used as a supplementary translator at conferences, inching your way closer to TV shows and red carpet events. When you’d received the assignment in early June, your colleague Sachiko had pulled you into the bathroom to squeal with you excitedly. She was nearly fifty and had taken it upon herself to look after you as her own daughter.

You’d run everything by her, what to wear, how to do your hair and makeup, wanting everything to be just right for this opportunity.

You looked yourself over in the mirror, hair pulled back off your face, makeup just enough to make you look fresh-faced, but not too bold. Your black skirt suit was perfectly tailored, and you wore a black blouse with black lace accents on the collar and cap sleeves beneath it. Despite the heat, you were wearing black nylons, a must in Japanese society, and modest black heels. Not too tall as to stand out. Your job today was to disappear into the background, a shadow placed behind the talent to ensure the list of interviews, and later the premiere, were perfectly executed to the studio’s standards.

Despite the low chance of rain in the forecast, you still took your umbrella as you headed out to the train station in the weak light of dawn. Rather than just a probability, you’d found the percentage of precipitation in the forecast was more of an indication of how much of the day it would rain or snow. The day’s schedule began with morning shows and that meant the group needed to be on camera in Fuji television studios by 9:30.

The team for the day – Sachiko, Yuka, Mr. Kimura, and yourself, met at the office before heading to the hotel to join Mr. Luhrmann and Mr. Butler. That was how you were instructed to address them, even if they requested otherwise.

Protocol and hierarchy were deeply entrenched into Japanese society. Everything one did orbited around where one fit into the current social situation. Thus, you entered the suite last, carrying a bag of clipboards, pens, water…anything the primary translators might need in the execution of their duties. Mr. Kimura was in the lead, the supervisor for the day. As he’d introduced himself to them and their people, you had set your items down in the corner and lined up with Sachiko and Yuka. Mr. Kimura introduced Sachiko as Mr. Luhrmann’s translator, Yuka as Mr. Butler’s, and you as a back up. The three of you bowed deeply at the waist, hands pressed to the outside of your thighs, giving the highest level of courtesy to your clients for the day.

As you straightened, you swallowed thickly as your eyes were caught by the startling blue of Mr. Butler’s gaze. You’d never encountered a gaze with such a physical impact in and of itself. You could fairly feel his eyes taking in your face…trailing down your body. You felt several things …confusion – you were not entirely certain what you had done to draw his attention……panic – you were supposed to be invisible, and he was most definitely looking at you…attraction – he was handsome. Why hadn’t you prepared yourself for that?! Everything about him was lanky grace. Long limbs, long fingers, long lingering looks. And then he opened his mouth to speak.

“It’s very nice to meet you all” He murmured in agreement with whatever Mr. Luhrmann had said. Well shit, you job was also to listen even through a cacophony of chatter…this was not a good start. But you did hear the sleepy rasp in his voice…his voice dripping with a southern accent that tasted like an old fashioned – bourbon forward with a sweet cherry finish. You were fucked.

You managed to murmur platitudes about looking forward to working with them, prompted by Sachiko and Yuka as they cheerfully replied first. You turned to gather the bags and stood against the wall as the primary translators stepped forward to work on building rapport with their clients. You fished a clipboard with the schedule on it from the supply bag and busied your eyes with tracing the numbers and letters on the paper. You knew it by heart, but the exercise was grounding, and you were able to slow your racing heart.

The scent of citrus mixed with something utterly masculine seeped into your thoughts and you lifted your head, startled to find him standing right in front of you. The plush of the hotel carpet had muffled his approach. You cleared your throat to try and regain your senses.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there. Is there anything I can help with you, Mr. Butler.”

That mouth, with those luscious pink lips, formed your name. You watched his tongue move with the vowel sounds as though he was tasting it and you shifted a little on your heels.

“Th..that’s right.” It was a herculean task to tear your eyes from his lips, to speak coherent words. Meeting his eyes had been an equally bad idea, though. There were flecks of colour in the rich blue of his irises, and you had just wanted to spend hours cataloguing each of them devotedly.

“I just wanted to say hi, even though we might not work that closely together.” He had outstretched his hand, and you had reached yours out in kind, watching as his warm skin and long fingers engulfed yours completely.

“Please let me know if you need anything. Anything at all. I’m happy to help.” You had felt the blush on your cheeks; you were helpless to stop it. You settled your eyes on his left cheekbone, the beauty marks trailing along his skin there.

You’d spent so long in Japanese society, where eye contact was considered too forward, that looking most people in the eye was rather difficult. Mr. Butler’s eyes were like staring into a welder’s arc…certain to blind you.

“There may be times when Yuka needs a break or has to step away. I will take over then, but hopefully I’ll be able to let you know so you’re not startled.” Focusing on the task at hand had helped you find the ability to articulate yourself again.

“I look forward to it…” He murmured and squeezed your hand again before releasing it gently. His personal assistant appeared then, from somewhere to the right of your eye line, and pulled him into a discussion about the schedule. You had seized the opportunity to escape, sliding along the wall to check in with your team. They had sent you down to ensure the van was ready to depart and you took a deep breath of the scentless air outside the hotel room to refocus.

You found the van waiting out front of the hotel and called Mr. Kimura to confirm it was ready. You waited patiently, making polite conversation with the driver, before you had heard some squealing from a group of girls waiting to the side of the hotel entrance. You looked over to see those long legs carrying him down the stairs with nothing short of a cocky swagger. The distance allowed you the opportunity to take in his outfit: black pants, black boots polished to a shine, a white t-shirt and open pinstripe button-up.

It was not fair how handsome he looked in that assortment of clothes, with his tanned skin and sun-kissed hair. You had tensed as you felt it again…that gaze…you stifled a gasp as he had caught you in the process of drinking him in. You turned to confirm one last thing with the driver, hoping the blush would disappear from your cheeks. They were still warm when the scent of citrus came close again…mixed now with a hint of cedar. His cologne had been evolving as his body heat warmed it. You swallowed tightly and slid on your KN95 mask. It was perfectly matched to your skin tone to encourage eyes to overlook you.

There was only half a seat left on the forward bench when you went to climb in last. Beside Mr. Butler. He’d settled with his legs slightly spread but upon seeing your conundrum, he’d shifted to make room for you. You gritted your teeth and perched on as little of the seat as possible. The driver pulled the rolling door shut and you had jumped a little at the sound.

“So, may I ask how you found yourself in this profession?” He spoke in a low voice, just for you, and you could feel it slide along your skin. The question made your lips slide into a thin line beneath your mask, reminding you of the constant micro-aggressions: ‘Where are you from?’ ‘Why can you speak Japanese so well?’ ‘When are you going home?’ Japan was not an easy place to make a home when you had been born somewhere else.

The driver had pulled out into traffic, swerving suddenly as a cyclist darted into traffic, and your perch on the seat did nothing to prevent you from being thrown into his side. He may be slim but under those clothes he was solid. His hands had gripped your elbows to steady you as you began apologizing profusely, pulling back to return his personal space to him.

“Really, I am so sorry” You looked up into his eyes as you apologized one last time, sitting your butt fully into the seat. Your thigh had pressed against his and he made no move to shift away. You could see his face was earnest, question genuine, so you took a deep breath and launch into the simplified version. Once you were fully seated, his hands had settled back into his lap.

He leaned in, listening intently as you spoke, focusing your gaze on the city passing by the window. It was, again, just shy of making eye contact, but you could see those damn blue eyes out in the periphery of your vision. You got the impression the mask bothered him, but it was still required for staff and crew to wear masks when in close proximity with talent. He had asked the occasional question as you explained all the forces that had brought you here, mostly your own efforts, but mostly he just listened with such an intensity your heart fluttered irregularly.

As you neared the end of your answer, you had noticed you were only five minutes from the first television station and could hear Sachiko talking to Mr. Luhrmann about what to expect.

“Did you have any questions about your first interview, Mr. Butler?”

He had started a little and shook his head. “Austin, please.”

“I apologize but I am not able to do that, Mr. Butler.”

He sighed and rubbed his fingers along his chin thoughtfully. “What is ‘good morning’ again?”

“Ohayou gozaimasu. You can slow it down and remember it using English words though…Ohio goes-I-muss.”

He grinned and practiced it a few times. “So arigatou goes-I-muss is thank you then?”

You nodded encouragingly. “Exactly. But Yuka will be right there with you.”

“You’ll be there too, right?” He asked quickly and something in his voice had made you glance at his eyes quickly. He somehow seemed a little…nervous?

“Absolutely, I’ll be behind the camera” You nodded and turned as the driver had parked and was now opening the door. You slid out quickly and stood off to the side to bring up the rear again. The glass building was huge and imposing as the group headed in, Mr. Butler chatting with his assistant and Mr. Luhrmann alternatingly.

The two men were run through make-up and mic’d up backstage while you helped Yuka and Sachiko prepare for the live, simultaneous translation. It was possibly the most difficult task that could be requested of a translator. The hosts would speak to the guests in Japanese with the translators immediately translating into the ear of the guest from behind. The guests would then answer in English and the translator would translate it into Japanese for the host and the camera. To an outsider it looked like utter chaos. To a translator it was a very careful juggling act, and the clipboards for notetaking were essential tools to ensure it all went smoothly.

Once everyone was in place, you had stood behind camera to watch the live segment. You could not help but feel a growing affection for Mr. Butler. He kept his arms crossed, obviously feeling out of his element, but was still so warm and friendly in his responses. He would have been a dream to translate for, you thought. He modulated his answers to make them easier to relay, and always turned toward Yuka as she provided English translation to him. A gentleman who refused to ignore what everyone was begging him to not see.

He had found you pretty early on in the segment and glanced when he delivered his adorably accented ‘good morning.’ You had grinned brightly, eyes crinkling with your encouragement, and he had found them again as the clips of Elvis had played. You had to admit you were quite excited that you would get a chance to watch the film that evening. There was something in the way that man moved that made it difficult to breathe…

After the segment came to an end your group had moved off the set to allow the rest of the morning show to play out. You stepped away to the windows overlooking Tokyo Bay to slide your mask off one ear, taking a deep sip of water from your bottle. You slid the mask back on and turned to see if they had been freed from backstage. He was looking at you again with that gaze, pretending to listen to something his assistant was saying. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you were grateful as Mr. Kimura came over to give you more marching orders and keep you on task.

The rest of the morning show segments were taped to be aired a later date. They were at most five minutes long, but with driving time, it was nearing noon by the time you returned to the hotel. Mr. Butler had saved you the seat beside him every time, asking questions about your favourite restaurant in Tokyo, or how to say good afternoon. He also asked if any temples or shrines would be open after the premiere was finished and after he humored Baz with some karaoke.

“Kaminari-mon and Sensoji temple stay lit and accessible all night long, so you could definitely go see those no matter what time you’re finished for the day.” You had replied. Stepping out back at the hotel, you confirmed on your schedule that lunch was next, then Mr. Luhrmann and Mr. Butler had a break before a special segment would be recorded at the hotel.

They would be meeting Yukawa Reiko, a Japanese music journalist who had met Elvis three times before his untimely death. She was also known for her close relationship with Yoko Ono and John Lennon. Your group headed up to the suite where a set of high-end bento lunch boxes were waiting along with a variety of bottled drinks. You hung back against the wall as Mr. Kimura gave them another run down of the schedule and invited them to eat.

The whole team had then waited in silence for the clients to decide if they would take the food back to their rooms or if they would invite you dine with them. Assumptions were never made, interaction was never forced, but Japanese hospitality dictated that you all wait until the clients’ wishes were made clear.

“Please, eat with us” Baz had smiled brightly, and you couldn’t help the thrill in your stomach. More time to stare at him. Maybe he would ask you more questions, you had thought. You grabbed a bento and a bottle of sanpin-cha – a blend of jasmine and oolong teas from Okinawa. Mr. Butler was right beside you, looking over the selections. You could empathize; the stylized labels provided little insight to a non-native speaker. You had walked him through the choices, describing the tastes of each, before he settled on a barley tea. He pulled out a chair for you at the long table and gestured with a graceful motion of his hand, inviting you to sit.

“Thank you very much” You sat with him warmly, pulling a pair of reusable chopsticks out of your bag and had removed your mask to start eating carefully. You looked to him and decided you should at least ask him one question in return…but nothing cliché…not about his last twenty-four hours in Japan…not about making the movie…

“So how did you end up in your profession?” You turned his own question back onto him. You flushed with a hint of pride at his soft laugh before he launched into the simplified version of his career for you.

People had begun to excuse themselves from the table, Mr. Luhrmann back to his room, your team to rest for a while in the bedrooms of the suite, but the two of you had stayed there just talking. Somehow, you’d landed on the topic of travel, and you had regaled him with your current project of visiting each of Japan’s forty-seven prefectures.

“The country is only the size of California, but each region is so remarkably distinct, it’s just so fascinating to explore them all.” You were chancing more frequent glances at his eyes the longer you talked. They were somehow irresistible, drawing you in like refreshing pools of water on this very hot day.

“I really wish I was here longer; my first time and its all of forty-eight hours…” He had sighed wistfully, but a polite cough from his assistant, recently returned from her room, brought you both back to reality.

“I’m sorry Austin but we need to get you ready for the meeting with Ms. Yukawa.”

He had apologized to her and then again to you before excusing himself. Finding yourself alone in the suite, you had slid out of your suit jacket, slipped out of your heels, and stood in front of the air conditioner to try and cool down. You knew that the heat in your cheeks had little to do with the temperature outside and much, much more to do with the intensity of Mr. Butler; it was almost entirely due to your growing desire for the man. You exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the lingering scent of sandalwood he had left behind, the low note in the cologne he was wearing.

It had flooded your senses and spoken to the ancient part of your brain that was quite insistent he would make an excellent mate; the sooner you swapped gametes, the better. You slammed the heel of your palm into your forehead with a groan, trying to reset your brain like a faulty hard drive. You were not successful.

You had managed to get some rest and recollect yourself, heading down to one of the meeting rooms where three chairs had been set up with a plexiglass barrier between them for Mr. Luhrmann, Mr. Butler, and Ms. Yukawa to engage in a filmed conversation. It would be easier translation this time as the footage would be edited to allow for smooth playback for the Japanese audience. Ms. Yukawa had not been provided a translator and asked if someone might be able to assist her as her hearing wasn’t what it used to be. It was hard for her to hear Sachiko and Yuka with masks on and plexiglass between them.

Mr. Kimura had nodded at you then and your veins flooded with a thrill of adrenaline. You stepped forward and bowed deeply to her, introducing yourself to her warmly. You had felt those eyes on you again, watching intently, and surely listening, as you spoke Japanese. You took your place behind her, off camera, clipboard in had to note important words to hit in your translation. You narrowed your focus to just the words, trying to push out that accent that felt like it was licking at the shell of your ear every time Mr. Butler spoke. You could see the joy on his face, as well as Mr. Luhrmann’s, as you translated Ms. Yukawa’s statement that she was grateful to tears for such a beautiful film about Elvis’s life.

There was passion in him, you realized. Passion for the film, passion for the man he had been chosen to portray…and unless you were mistaken, a desire to like every part of his life with that same passion. The allotted time for recording the meeting flew by rapidly and as it ended, it took you a moment to re-engage the rest of your brain, to flesh out into a full human and not the pared down translation machine. You thanked Ms. Yukawa profusely for her time and returned to your place at the back of the room as Mr. Kimura instructed your team to go rest for the next two hours while the clients changed for the premiere.

You did not miss the slide of Mr. Butlers eyes along your cheek as he was ushered up to his room to get ready. Your eyes had flicked to his, and he’d nodded to you before following his assistant out the door. You had followed your colleagues back up to the working suite, hanging up your suit jacket before laying on one of the futon on the floor to try and sleep. You’d been up since five and the main event of the day was still yet to come. You were restless at first, mind filled with his voice, his glances, his cologne…but fatigue, thankfully, won out and you managed an hour of sleep before forcing yourself up to brush your teeth and fix your hair and makeup.

You could only imagine how tired the two men must be, all of this heaped onto the jetlag…

It was a fleet of sleek black cars waiting in front of the hotel entrance for your group this time, and you waited at the door of the last car in the line. Lowest in the hierarchy meant you needed to be there first, waiting. The combination of squealing and the familiar caress of his gaze turned your head to look up at the steps. Your fingers nearly dropped the supply bag as he stepped out of the hotel doors in all white, shirt unbuttoned down to his sternum, a gold chain and pendant on the tanned, exposed skin of his chest.

You had briefly wished your heart would arrest at that point…the rhythm was so chaotic it would not have been too much to ask. You swallowed quickly as there was a lot of saliva in your mouth all of a sudden. You had turned away and snapped your mask onto your face like armour, holding the car door open for Mr. Kimura to slide in. Mr. Butler’s eyes met yours and he had offered you a nod with just the hint of a smirk before sliding into the front car with Mr. Luhrmann.

You quickly jumped into your vehicle and the trio of automobiles headed out through traffic to the event. It was quite frankly unlike anything you’d ever experienced; a glittering pink carpet packed with media and fans. Somehow through it all Mr. Butler seemed utterly calm and cool, while Mr. Luhrmann stole the show with over-the-top excitement. You were all watching the Jailhouse Rock dance performance by a popular Japanese dance group when Yuka tugged at your sleeve sharply.

“I have a headache and sore throat; protocol says I have to leave. Good luck.” She had bowed deeply to you before slipping off through the crowd. You looked after her in concern before Mr. Kimura shifted to stand beside you.

“Are you ready?” He asked and you nodded quickly, grateful you’d had a bit of a warmup earlier in the day with Ms. Yukawa. You stepped over behind Mr. Butler and took a breath to interrupt his focus on the dance troupe. Your senses were flooded with that cologne again, eyes inadvertently fluttering shut. The whisper of your name, in that voice, against your ear made then snap open again. He was so very close to you…your heart rabbited in your chest, but you clenched your fists, digging your nails into your palms to ground your focus.

“Yuka has had to leave, I will be assisting you through the Q&A, Mr. Butler.” You had leaned up to murmur in his ear.

His smile was small, just visible to you, as he nodded once before looking back to the performance. Every concession and consideration he had provided Yuka was offered to you two-fold. His eyes sought yours as you translated questions, he broke his answers into neat chunks or simply kept them brief to allow you to accurately convey his words to the audience. By the time you were ushered into the theatre to watch the film, you wondered if he might not just sleep through it. It was dark enough and surely he had been tired enough.

You, however, were on the edge of your seat from the first. The haunting line from Suspicious Minds took a hold of you and the film did not let you go for all two hours and thirty-nine minutes of it. It was not so absorbing, however, that you didn’t feel his presence in the seat to your left like the glow of superheated embers. Every nerve in your body was happily announcing to you that he was right there, that man on the screen who was moving his hips like that, making you cross and re-cross your legs in an attempt to keep your arousal to yourself.

His gaze had found your thighs as your skirt inched higher along your nylons with all your fidgeting. You had sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, taking slow breaths through your nose. Do not look at him, you had thought. Do not acknowledge or encourage…your fingers gripped the hem of your skirt, not so subtly, and tried to pull it down a little.

Lust was not the only feeling the film had aroused in you, however. By the time he was delivering the speech about the bird without legs, you were dabbing at your eyes with the cuff of your suit jacket, trying to wick away tears before they could fall down your cheeks.

As the credits began to roll, the theatre erupted into applause, cheers, and a standing ovation. You were quick to join in, risking a glance at him. He was blushing now, and you felt somewhat vindicated to see him embarrassed for once today. But how humble it was of him, to be able to embody such an ego on film so very well and yet remain so down-to-earth. You had all piled into the cars then, heading back to the hotel suite. You had been weighed down by the sudden realization that this magical day really was at an end. You and Sachiko were in the middle of a sweep of the suite when you heard Mr. Butler calling your name. You looked at Sachiko and she dropped all her professionalism with a broad grin.

“Ichi-go, ichi-e” She stated simply, and you had flushed scarlet. She’d proceeded to shoo you out into the main room, and you smoothed your suit jacket in a self-soothing motion.

“Mr. Butler?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Look, Baz is determined about the whole karaoke thing, and we have no idea where to go or how to do it…Please?”

You swallowed roughly, Sachiko’s words ringing in your ears. Live life now. Live it to the fullest as though this moment would never come again.

“Of course, I can help you two find a place.” You grabbed your purse and nodded.

“On one condition…” He had grinned slyly.

You had looked to him startled; not certain he was in any position to put stipulations on a favour he’d ask of you.

“You have got to stop calling me Mr. Butler.” He laughed cheekily and you couldn’t help your bark of relieved laughter.

“Fine…Austin. Are you two ready to go now?”

He had nodded enthusiastically, and you had bowed deeply to Sachiko, thanking her for all her hard work that day, before following him out. Honestly, karaoke bars were not that hard to find once one knew what they were looking for, but you reminded yourself you too had once been a lost foreigner. You found a reputable chain location close to the hotel, one you even had a points card for, and booked them a room for an hour. Their assistants were there, along with a few other people you didn’t recognize. You weren’t certain if you were meant to join them until long, warm fingers wrapped around your wrist and pulled you into the room.

Even with the air conditioning it was warm, so you slid out of your suit jacket…The skin of your arms was not given the opportunity to cool down, however, as the fabric of your jacket was quickly replaced with the heat of his gaze taking in the new territory. You made sure everything was set up in English for them, passing the mic to Baz who was bouncing with excitement. You tried to find the back corner of the room, but your wrist was in his grasp again and you were pulled into the space beside him, pressed quite close.

It behooved any resident of Japan to learn a karaoke specialty song, inevitably you would be called upon to perform for karaoke with friends or colleagues and it was better to be prepared. You had been sly in your choice, learning a song that usually came with guide vocals at most establishments. Many people usually knew it from graduation ceremonies, but that would not be the case with this group. So, when the tablet was thrust into your hands by an enthusiastic Austin to input your song, you had easily found Angela Aki’s 手紙～拝啓十五の君へ～, (Letter: Greetings to My 15-Year-Old Self). That was not to say you had not been petrified; a fear which only deepened when he performed Polk Salad Annie for you all.

To hear his voice in the movie theatre had been one thing. To hear it coming from the man next to you, to feel the vibrations of his voice where his side pressed against yours, was entirely another. He had handed you the microphone, still warm from his grasp, as the opening strains of the song came up and you tried to push out all the distractions. You knew this song; you would be fine…and you sang. It was not going to win you a Grammy, but you made it through without missing notes or words, the hallmark of a successful karaoke performance. You even had the room clapping along to the beat during the bridge.

You were still grateful when the song ended, passing the microphone to his assistant as though it was scalding your hand. As she took over singing a Britney Spears song, you felt him lean in close.

“Will you tell me what it means after this?” He had intoned into your ear.

You swallowed visibly, had seen his eyes flick to your throat to watch the motion closely, and nodded firmly. More songs were sung, and suddenly the five-minute warning flashed across the screen. You double-checked if they wanted to extend the time, but everyone was suddenly looking quite tired…even Austin. You had settled the bill for the drinks, snacks, and booth rental with Baz; you did the talking, he did the paying. The group meandered back to the hotel, and you stopped in the lobby as people began filtering up to the elevators, wishing each other good night. Austin leaned in close to your ear, looking as though he was saying farewell.

“Give me five minutes? I want to take you somewhere.” Were the words that actually came out of his mouth.

You had nodded, rendered mute, and sat in one of the lobby chairs, checking your texts idly. True to form, he was back within the promised time frame, wearing the black short-sleeved button up and black pants from that afternoon’s meeting with Ms. Yukawa. He had a mask over his face, but truly it did little to hide how overwhelmingly attractive he was. You had moved to your feet as you saw him step out of the elevator and he took your hand, leading you to the line of cabs.

He helped you in and looked to the driver. “Kaminari-mon onegai.”

You had been running through an endless list of guesses as to where he wanted to take you, but this was the best of all. You squeezed his hand gently and added your more formal ‘onegaishimasu’ to the driver who bowed and pulled out onto the much quieter streets.

“So…the song…It obviously meant something to you…”

Your cheeks reddened but you nodded.

“It is a letter to the performer’s 15 year old self, talking to them about all they have been through…saying things like believe in your own voice, don’t give up…even as an adult there are nights when my heart is broken and I can’t sleep, but I am still alive…I was a pretty awkward kid, I would have loved to get a letter like that from myself at that age. Because things are better now. I can pull up the lyrics if you’d like?” You looked to him in the intermittent glow of streetlights and signs, but he shook his head.

“I’ll look it up another time, I’d rather look at you right now.”

Your heart gave one terrific thud, and you were certain that might have been the last blow it could take, but somehow the rhythm kickstarted again and you exhaled shakily. The driver pulled up to the massive lantern hanging beneath a bright red gate and turned to ask you for fare. You pulled out your wallet, filled with cash as Japan was still very much a cash-based society and paid, despite Austin’s protests, before sliding out.

The temple complex was much quieter now than it was during the daytime, but it was well-lit and striking. His hand took yours again as his other busied itself snapping photos on his phone. You walked slowly, letting him set the pace, telling him a little about the history of the place. The normally bustling Nakamise shopping street was shuttered for the evening, but you were thrilled as Austin gravitated to the intricate street art painted onto the metal shutters. Your path up to the temple was winding and inefficient, but he was so clearly enjoying himself and you were feeling very privileged to see it.

You had showed him how to cleanse himself with incense before stepping onto the sacred grounds and led him over to say a prayer on the steps of the temple. You had fished a few five yen coins out of your wallet, holding one out to him.

“Go-en, it’s a homonym for destiny. The best coin to pray with. This temple is dedicated to the bodhisattva Kannon. She embodies compassion.” You dropped your coin in the wooden coin box before bowing deeply and pressing your hands together. You waited quietly as you heard the noise of his coin ricocheting against the sides of wooden box after he tossed it in, finishing your prayer with a bow. As soon as you had looked up, his hand had seized yours again.

“What else can we do at this time of night?” He was so intently focused on making the most of every moment in this country, your heart ached a little.

“I’ll take you to my favourite izakaya…it’s like a pub. I actually live quite close to here.”

He had nodded eagerly and, unfortunately, neither of you had been blessed with the slightest inkling of what would happen there.

It was busier than you had anticipated, with a large number of ex-pats seated at tables. The owner had heard the bell above the door jingle as you entered, calling out his blanket welcome of ‘Irasshaimase!’ before looking up. He grinned broadly and called out your name in a more personal greeting.

“Konbanwa Nakamura-san! Futari, onegaishimasu.” You held up two fingers, asking for two seats.

“Kauntaa de ii no kai?” He gestured to the only two open seats at the counter, next to the yakitori grill. You looked up to Austin.

“Are you ok with the counter?” He had nodded enthusiastically and the two of you had wound your way over to take the seats. You hung your suit jacket and purse on the hook under the counter, asking the owner for one English menu along with a Japanese one for you.

You worked through the options with him, choosing a few snacks and drinks. You placed the order with the owner, feeling Austin’s gaze on your mouth and throat as you spoke. The blush had crept up from below your blouse, but you remained focused on what you were trying to communicate. You looked to him slowly as you finished, and he shook his head in awe.

“I don’t think I will ever get tired of hearing you speak Japanese…You really love it, don’t you.”

You laughed shyly but nodded with a shrug.

“I do…it’s a language with a lot of meaning and history and levels of formality and…” You nodded again and watched the fingers of his left hand trace along the characters of the Japanese menu in front of you.

“It looks impossible to read…There’s no reference to anything I know here.”

“You start with the basics, each segment of the more complicated kanji has a meaning, so it’s all about how they are combined and where certain characters are placed.”

He raised an eyebrow dubiously and you laughed, pulling out a notebook and pen from your purse.

“Let me show you. So, for example, there are two words for love: ai and koi. But the difference between them is illustrated by where the character for heart is positioned. This is kokoro – heart.”

You carefully drew the kanji 心.

“It’s pretty straight forward, four chambers just like a real heart. A much more accurate representation than a Western heart symbol. Now this, is ai, a deep abiding love. Long lasting, and can describe either romantic or platonic love.”

You drew the kanji 愛.

“The heart is here, in the middle…in your chest…” You were so wrapped up in your explanation that you didn’t even process that you were pressing your hand against the centre of his chest. He was watching raptly, licking his lips.

“Whereas koi is a shallow love, based on attraction, usually describing flings or the early stages of a relationship. It’s also part of the word for lover, only used for romantic situations.”

You drew the kanji 恋.

“This time the heart is at the bottom of the kanji, between the…” Your words stumbled a little, and you gestured vaguely towards his lap. “…legs.” It was your turn to watch the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in a visible swallow.

The clunk of your drinks being set on the bar pulled your attention away from his throat. You moved to put away the notebook, but he plucked it from your fingers, carefully extracting the page you’d given him the kanji lesson on. You watched as he folded it with care into four before sliding it into his breast pocket. You took a deep, bracing sip of your drink as the snacks began to arrive and you two set about sampling the various items.

He had asked more questions about the different kanji on the menu, and you had happily explained them, using the same technique your first Japanese teacher had used. You had used the stroke count to differentiate the kanji for one, two, and three; gotten him to see the shape of a cow’s horns in the kanji for gyu 牛 (beef). Neither of you had noticed the couple beside you leave, nor the increase of volume as a new boisterous group arrived. You did, however, notice him tense as someone hollered his name through the crowd.

You turned your head to follow his gaze, eyes widening a little as Ezra Miller had crowded into your local izakaiya with a pack of friends. The conversation had seemed friendly at first, if a little tense. The two celebrities had exchanged pleasantries and explanations of what had brought each of them to Tokyo.

“I saw the film when I was in Hawaii…Decent job, Butler.” Ezra had said in a tone that set your teeth on edge. It was very clearly a back-handed compliment. You saw the muscles of Austin’s jaw bunch as they clenched in an effort to stay civil. “Well, if you’re done with your Japanese tutor here, why don’t you two get out of our way so we can sit down” They had said, snide tone no longer gilded with a sheen of feigned civility.

“Don’t talk about her that way.” Austin had said tersely, sitting taller on the bar stool. “We were here first and have no intention of leaving until we’re good and ready.”

“Defending a nobody in a department store suit, Butler? What happened to the revolving door of actresses and models? Why are you wasting your time on a dowdy thing like…” You never did get a chance to hear the rest of Ezra Miller’s insults.

Austin had slid to his feet, drawn himself to his full intimidating height, and employed the toned muscles of his right arm to slam his right fist into Ezra’s jaw. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as their face had snapped to the side under the force, spit flying from their venomous lips as they stumbled back into their group of friends. As they tried to scramble back to their feet, to lunge at Austin, things were suddenly sped up to twice the normal speed. Ezra’s friends were holding them back, Austin standing still and intimidating, shielding you from the problematic star. You had moved quickly then, spurred on by the reactions of the staff and patrons of the izakaiya. You pulled all the bills out of your wallet, totalling around ¥20,000, and put them on the bar. It was roughly the equivalent of $200 USD, much more than your bill.

You called out to the owner, who was taking in the scene in stunned silence. You assured him you would be leaving promptly, asked him not to call the police. He had eyed you and the stack of bills for a brief moment before nodding sharply. He collected the bills as you grabbed your suit jacket and purse. He sent one of the yakitori cooks to drag the Miller group out the front door before motioning you to follow him out the back. You had slid your arm through Austin’s, dragging him after you through the kitchen and out into the alley.

“Come on, please…” Your heart was racing, terrified a career ending scandal might taint all his hard work promoting the film that day. The Japanese were not as forgiving as the rest of the world when it came to scandal. You needed to get him out of public and the fastest way to do that would be to take him into your one room apartment. It was a short walk to the next block where you lived, walking as fast as your heels would allow. Austin had stridden alongside you smoothly with those ridiculously long legs, hand clasping yours. You unlocked the gate before leading him up the stairs in your building, hands a bit shaky from the adrenaline, but you’d managed to unlock your front door and pull him into the entryway.

You had spun and slid your heels off as you stepped up onto the hardwood floor, a very practiced movement. He unzipped the sides of his boots and kicked them off to sit beside yours, following you into the hallway of an apartment you called home. It took precisely ten seconds to run from one end to the other. You had timed it once, out of curiosity. You reached into the fridge and pulled out a pack of frozen peas, reaching for his right hand as he got close enough, looking his knuckles over.

You gently pressed the improvised cold pack to his skin, making him hiss a little. Your heart rate had yet to recover from the rush out of the restaurant and down the darkened streets, the sprint up the stairs, the fact that he had defended you…You gasped a little as you felt the skin between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand slot itself below your chin. His thumb and fingers had gently pressed into skin on either side of your jaw as he guided your head up.

“Why won’t you ever look me in the eye?” He whispered softly, eyes searching your face.

Aside from your cultural adaption to Japanese ways, you had also been so afraid of what he might see there – the naked, unabashed desire you had felt for him since first laying eyes on him that morning. You took a fortifying breath and snapped your eyes to his now, no longer interested in trying to hide it. The flames of the fire blazing in your lower abdomen flickered in your eyes as you let yourself fall into his rapidly shrinking blue irises. His pupils had been rapidly expanding as he was finally able to see you. You heard the sharp intake of breath through his nose before his lips crashed into yours, body surging forward to push you back into the refrigerator as he pressed into you greedily.

You shuddered as you felt the outline of his hard cock pressing against your stomach, free hand reaching up to twist your fingers into those cursed curls that had been teasing you all day. The sound of the bag of frozen peas hitting the floor hardly registered in your brain as he pushed them out of your other hand to employ both his hands in pulling your blouse of out of your skirt. His fingers quickly snuck up and underneath the silk to stroke along the skin of your sides. Your breath shuddered into his mouth at the feel of his touch, the callouses on his fingers, the warmth of his palms.

His tongue took advantage of your open mouth to finally get a chance to taste you. The feel of the slick muscle of his tongue sliding along your own made your toes curl into the hardwood floor. Eventually oxygen became an unavoidable necessity, and you pulled back from his lips to gasp for air, breath thick with desire. You could feel him panting against the skin of your throat as took deep inhales of your scent.

“Fuck you smell so good; it’s been all I could think about all day.” His generous lips brushed against your skin as he spoke, making you shudder. He took the hint, showering your sensitive skin with kisses as his clever fingers found the zipper on your skirt. You chuckled wryly, breathlessly.

“You have no fucking idea what your cologne has been doing to me, do you?” You carefully stepped out of the fabric as it fell to the floor, hands hooking into the belt loops of his pants, pulling him after you as you moved deeper into the apartment to where your bed was.

“Oh, I think I do. When I caught you with your eyes closed on that pink carpet…I just about ripped that mask off to kiss you senseless…” He replied, standing still as you worked his pants and shirt off. Once they lay on a pile on the floor, he pulled you tightly against him, seizing your lips with his, kissing you until you felt unsteady on your feet, as promised. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your nylons and slid them down to your knees before he gripped your hips, lifting you onto the bed. He knelt at your feet, looking down at you in your bra and panties hungrily. His lips fell victim to the ravages of his teeth as he pulled the nylons up and off each leg in turn.

You watched, chest tight with anticipation as he tossed them aside, lips working their way down from your right ankle, along the inside of your calf, to your knee and up your inner thigh. You trembled as he got closer to the centre of your need, licking your lips eagerly.

“Did they survive?” His eyes looked up to yours as he came face to face with your panties. “The way you kept crossing your legs…I was rather hoping for them to be utterly ruined.”

You flushed and threw your head back with a sudden laugh. He grinned as he pressed his forearm into the mattress beside your head, stretching his body over yours as the fingers of his other hand slid past the waistband of your panties, seeking your folds. He hummed, pleased as he found your slick.

“So not entirely unscathed then…” He drank in your face as your eyelids fluttered, threatening to close at the sensation of his languid, exploratory strokes. Your thighs pressed together around his wrist needily, having fought to be well-behaved for so long.

“Please…” You breathed in desperation and his lips found yours, kissing you soothingly as fingers traced around your bundle of nerves before applying gentle but fleeting pressure. You squirmed beneath him, gripping his shoulders tightly, hips pressing up to his hand eagerly.

His lips pulled back from yours with a parting nip to the flesh of the lower one. He sat back onto his heels and tugged at the waistband of your underwear, getting you to lift your hips so he could divest you of them. He then gripped your elbows, pulling you up to a sitting position before reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. His fingers teasingly dragged the straps down your arms, raising goosebumps in their wake before that too was removed and tossed aside. Latching onto your right nipple, he had settled his hips against yours, leaning you back onto the mattress. His skin was frustratingly still clad in the fabric of his boxer-briefs but, as he ground against your core, you stopped your internal complaining and moaned eagerly.

The fingers of his free hand cupped the mound of your left breast as he settled back over you on his right forearm. He continued to pleasure your breasts as his hips rocked against yours insistently, the once hint of a shape now a very definitely hard, generously sized cock pressed tightly against you. As you grew wet enough to soak into the fabric of his underwear, he pulled back out of your reach, sliding down between your thighs to taste you eagerly.

Your hips had a bad habit of bucking towards his mouth needily, and he held them down with a firm grip as his tongue parted your folds to lap at your clit hungrily. He watched your face hungrily as your fingers sank into his curls again, crying out his name reverently. Throwing his left arm across your hips, pinning you under his elbow and hand, he freed his right hand to seek out your entrance. The pad of his index finger slowly dipped in and out of you before pressing deeper into you, making you throw your head back with a whimper.

Thrusting the digit in and out of you, working you open, he gradually added a second and third finger, curling them up to press against the area that made you toss your head to the side and swear like a sailor.

“Ohhh Jesus fucking Christ, Austin!” You wailed and he was relentless; manipulating the sensitive spot inside you with those delicious, dextrous fingers until his arm could no longer hold your hips down. You bucked hard, thighs clamping tightly around his head as his tongue had not once let up on your clit. Your orgasm had rocked through you, leaving you a trembling, gasping mess.

You watched through hooded eyes as he cleaned you up with his tongue before licking his fingers clean, savouring every last drop of your nectar. He had raised up on his knees again, sliding his boxer-briefs down to allow his insistent cock to spring free, slapping against the taught skin of his abdomen. The man was blessed, and you were about to be as well.

Tossing the fabric aside, he had slid up against you, cock pressing against your still-fluttering core as he settled his hips between your legs again. You arched your back up to kiss him appreciatively, not caring that his mouth tasted of your climax. His tongue twined with yours, moans sliding from his throat and down yours are he slid his cock between your folds, the crown snagging on your clit, making you whimper in reply. Before you could pull your lips back from his to beg, his cock began to sink into you, stretching you, filling you.

“Aus..Aus…tin…” You had stuttered between your whimpers, chest heaving.

“I know, you’re so fucking tight, holy fuck…” His head dropped to press against your collarbone, and you felt him shudder as he attempted to maintain control over his body’s urgent wish to slam into you. At last, he had settled into you fully, pelvis slotted snugly against yours. You shuddered and flexed your walls unintentionally, making him moan raggedly against your skin.

Unable to resist any longer, he pulled his hips back before pushing into your heat again, making you both moan. He set an easy pace to start, your exhales of pleasure meeting in the air between your mouths, curling around each other in the low light of your apartment. The pendant on the end of the gold chain knocked against your chin teasingly and you gripped it in your teeth teasingly.

The delicious feel of his cock sliding against your walls, nudging your cervix with each thrust, made your eyes roll back in your head. His pace increased as his left hand slid to cradle your jaw again.

“Lemme see your eyes” He ground out huskily and you fought to open them, to lock them onto his. Your walls clenched around him at the vision he presented above you, pink lips parted, eyebrows crinkled in pleasure, jaw working in concentration.

“I’m gonna…”

“Oh fuck, please…” His hips slapped into yours faster, your thighs spreading wider, heels digging into the bed as you just…needed…

“AHN!” you arched hard against him as his fingers found your clit again. You forced your eyes wider rather than clenching them shut as your release ripped through your body. Your walls clamped down around him tightly, pulling him under with you as he swore a litany of curses into your neck, flooding you with his hot cum. Shuddering breaths echoed in the quiet room as you both fought to calm racing hearts, to satiate the burning in your lungs. He slid from you carefully, making you whimper at the loss, before rolling to lay at your side. He gripped your right hip with his left hand and rolled you into his chest, pressing his plush lips to your forehead.

You lay your cheek on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slowing to a normal rhythm beneath your ear pressed to his skin.

“Thank you…for defending me…” You broke the silence and he scoffed sleepily.

“Thank you for saving my ass after I hit him…” He replied. You could tell sleep was working against him, the marathon of a day catching up with him.

“What time do you need to be at the airport?” You left off the word tomorrow as it was definitely today now. He was leaving today.

“Leaving the hotel at 9…” He murmured softly and you kissed his chest, just above where the pendant lay. You waited patiently, fighting off your own sleep, letting him drift off before you slid from his embrace to set an alarm and assemble his clothes on the chair beside the bed, hoping to make the wake up a little easier on him. You cleaned up in the washroom, coming back to stand on the threshold of the bedroom, watching him sleep soundly, bathed in the light from the street. God he was perfection. Your heart panged a little with the knowledge that this was surely the end of…whatever the last twenty hours had been.

“Ichi-go, ichi-e” You had whispered to yourself and blinked as the idea came to you. You fished out your wallet and found a clean, shiny five yen coin. You found some origami paper on your coffee table and carefully folded a pouch to slide the coin into. You added a slip of paper, writing out the expression on one side – he would be able to use his phone to translate it if he wanted. You added your email on the reverse. You slipped it into the breast pocket of his shirt, along with the folded note paper from the restaurant, before sliding into bed with him to enjoy a few hours of sleep.

══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══

You slide your shoes off in the entryway and step into your apartment proper, sighing a little as the scent of his cologne is almost gone. You flick on the lights and set down your things, changing into comfy clothes before pulling out your phone again. You mindlessly scroll through Twitter as you lay on the bed, his name catching your eye. You click on the post, not your usual habit, but curious after your experience with him. The photo of him posing with some fans on the streets of Los Angeles makes you smile…such a sweetheart.

The chain around his neck, or rather the pendant, catches your eye and you zoom in, gasping to see he’s slid the chain through the centre of the five yen coin, wearing it proudly. You swallow back something akin to a squeal. So, it had meant more to him than just a chance meeting…

Your phone buzzes with an email notification and you roll onto your stomach on the bed, cheeks aching from your grin as he’s sent you a screenshot of the translation of the phrase you had written for him. What had previously felt like an ending, in the early dawn of June 29, is transforming into a beginning right before your eyes.

--------✿❀✿------✿❀✿------✿❀✿------✿❀✿--------

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一期一会 | ichi-go, ichi-e Masterlist

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redeemingvillains · 9 months

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the soul's brand (v) - draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x half-blood fem!reader

summary: draco tells you the truth, about his feelings for you, about everything.

word count: 3.7k

chapter four series masterlist

The rest of fall term was spent devising the most creative ways to steal time alone with Draco without being noticed.

It was nearly impossible to pay attention in any of your shared classes as you snuck constant glances at each other, smiling when you met each other’s eyes, him winking at you when no one was looking, making you want to squeal and kick your feet in the air. Sometimes after a late night in the library, you’d be wandering back to your common room and a warm hand would pull you into an abandoned classroom or broom closet and you’d feel his smile pressed against yours, his hands tangling in your hair as he muttered everything he’d wanted to say to you that day in between his kisses, unrelenting in his praise. “So beautiful, you make it impossible to focus on anything darling, you’re all I can think about.”

Once you had even woken up to a single red rose on your bedside table with an emerald ribbon tied around the stem; he had refused to explain how he had made that happen.

Everyone was too wrapped up in their end-of-term studies and exams to notice the change in your demeanor, except for Hermione who watched you float through the halls, and gaze longingly at the Slytherin table during mealtimes. You and Draco had managed to keep things well under the radar.

You were walking out of Potions, trying to linger and see if you could talk to Draco who was with Blaise in the back of the room when Dean Thomas approached you.

“Hey Y/N” he said shyly, rubbing the back of his neck, “I uh heard what happened with Cormac at the ball, and I was thinking…”

Your eyes flicked quickly over Dean’s shoulder to see that your conversation had caught Draco’s attention. “Well, Ginny and I broke up” Dean continued, “And I figured maybe you’d like to go for a butterbeer this weekend?”

If looks could kill, Draco’s would have been the fourth unforgivable curse. It would have left a small pile of ash where Dean Thomas had once stood. You honestly tried not to laugh, the irony of the whole situation too much for you. As much as you wanted to milk it, you needed to end this, for Dean’s own safety if nothing else. “Dean, that is so kind of you” you said, “but I have a lot of studying I need to do.”

“Yeah, alright, Y/N, no problem” Dean said smiling bashfully at you before making a quick exit.

You smiled at him as he shuffled past you, leaving you and Draco alone. You turned to face him, your heart squeezing at the anger written clearly across his face and his hands balled into fists at his side. “Draco” you whispered, smiling, taking one of his balled fists in your hand, working his fingers into yours.

“I’m going to put puking pastilles in his pumpkin juice” he said through gritted teeth.

“Draco” you whispered louder, and he turned to face you. “You have nothing to worry about” you said as you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. He turned to look at you, “I just wish that everyone knew you were mine.”

Winter break came quickly, with you and Draco stealing one last embrace and a chaste kiss in a secluded corridor the morning before you departed for home. Your return home forced you to face the sober reality of your tense parents and what felt like a nation holding its breath for the unknown.

You and Draco were able to exchange written letters via owl, deeming it too dangerous to try to meet in public so near to his home and his parents. You missed him terribly and eagerly awaited every written note, sometimes receiving three or four a day filled with his thoughts, with how much he missed you or even just a silly joke to make you laugh. Your owls likewise provided him with a welcome distraction from the turmoil of being alone for the holidays with his mother, his father’s absence lingering along with the weight of the spring term and all that would be expected of him. He barely spoke to his mother. She was completely withdrawn, often spending hours in the study staring out the window, rubbing a raised scar on her wrist. He left her alone.

Your owls told of a jollier holiday filled with silly stories of your family and muggle traditions with your mother which he found endearing if not a little weird. It felt cruel that you were so close and yet so far away. It made him wonder if you would ever find a time and a place to be together, but he had learned better than to wish for too much and get his hopes up. Even still, despite everything that lay ahead of him, he was eager to return to Hogwarts, to you.

'What about the Room of Requirement?' You wrote to him on the eve before your return to school, remembering how Dumbledore’s Army had used it the year before. It was supposed to turn into whatever you needed. Would the castle provide them with a place to hide from prying eyes? It was worth a try.

On your first night back in the castle you crawled out of bed just before midnight, keenly aware of how much trouble you could get in for being out past curfew with the raised security measures.

You slid on a pair of leggings a sweater and spent far too long fussing with your hair and makeup before slipping through the corridors, ears and eyes attuned to every noise. As you turned the final corner, you saw Draco, head down, pacing in front of the stone wall that held the Room of Requirement. When he heard you, his eyes lifted and immediately brightened and you couldn’t help yourself but to run into his arms. He caught you effortlessly as you wrapped your arms and legs around him. He held you tightly, reveling in the feeling of you being back in arms as you nuzzled against his neck. He sighed a deep sigh of relief knowing that here, for now, you were safe and he could keep you safe.

As if the castle was reading his mind, the stone wall began to shift and shape, presenting a small oak door.

You untangled from each other just long enough for him to take your hand and pull you towards the door. He reached for the handle, paused and slid you behind him as he took out his wand, he couldn’t be too careful, all too aware of the mysteries and danger the Room of Requirement could hold. He opened the door slowly and you peeked around him, hardly believing your eyes.

In front of you was a small room, about a quarter of the size of the Ravenclaw common room adorned with thick Persian carpets, a plush sofa overflowing with pillows and throw blankets, and a fireplace roaring with warm flames that lit the room in a soft glow. Candles lined the walls and various surfaces and a tea set sat on small table with an array of snacks.

It was perfect.

You stepped into the room, admiring every detail as Draco quietly shut the door. As it snicked closed the realization washed over both of you: you were truly alone, you were safe. He didn’t hesitate, crossing to you again and picking you up, one arm around your waist, the other cupping your face as he kissed you, his signature tenderness causing you to hum against his lips and squeeze him tighter. He walked you both to the couch laying you gently down beneath him, hovering on his forearms above you, careful not to crush you with his body weight as his lips left yours only to trace kisses across your cheek, your jaw, your neck and back again before peppering kisses across your nose and forehead, making you laugh. Finally, you pulled back to look at him as you ran your fingers through his hair which was loosely styled without any product in it. He looked more relaxed than you could remember seeing him all of first term as he settled in to lay beside you, the couch big enough for you to lay side by side comfortably as he tucked you into his warm chest and pressed soft kisses absentmindedly to your head and the side of your face. “M’missed you” he murmured into your hair, eliciting a smile from your lips as you sunk into him. You were so warm and content to just be here, with him, in his arms, not having to hide, or sneak around. He was here with you and he was all yours.

After a while, you turned to face him and found a soft smile on his lips as he drank in your features, so at peace and trusting in him it squeezed his heart. But despite everything, you saw that flash of guilt behind his eyes, quick but present. You reached up to stroke his cheek. “Talk to me” you whispered. He looked up at the fire before looking down at you again and sitting up, situating you next to him upright on the couch. There wasn’t any good way to say what he had to say. Certainly not to anyone, let alone you. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands pulling at his mussed hair, begging Merlin that this wouldn’t be the last night that he got spend with you like this. He was breathing heavily, trying to collect himself, trying to muster the words to say when he felt your arms slide around him, a wordless embrace that said simply I’m here.

Before long he released his head, sat up and looked in your eyes. “I care about. Immeasurably… I-I’m falling in love with you, Y/N, I need you to know that. I also need you to know that if you never want to talk to me again after tonight, I-I’ll understand, it’s okay.”

“Draco, you just told me you’re falling in love with me, how could I ever walk away from you? That aside, you know I never would.” You leaned forward and pressed your lips against his passionately, his arms circling you tentatively, like he was hesitant to believe what you said but meeting your passion with his own. You grasped his face with your hands and eventually ran your fingers into his hair, breaking the kiss only momentarily, lips lingering on his to say “I am very much falling in love with you too.”

His heart shattered upon hearing that as his eyes squeezed shut, the guilt and self-loathing eclipsing his ability to enjoy what you had said. You took in the pain in his face and slid out of his arms. “What is it, Draco?”

“Please hold onto that sentiment until you hear what I have to say.”

You couldn’t imagine anything that would change the way you felt about him, but you took his hand in yours, squeezing gently. He swallowed and took a deep breath, pulling his hand away and grasping the end of his sleeve, pulling it up to reveal the hideous mark on his arm beneath. He looked away immediately, unwilling to face it, nor to face you and your reaction before quickly shoving his sleeve back down.

Your breath caught in your throat and your hands clamped over your mouth involuntarily. Harry had been adamant all year that this was true, but you had tuned him out. He was always so quick to point the finger at Draco when he knew nothing about him and now the truth was staring you in the face. The Dark Mark. A mark of evil, of hatred, that spoke death over people like you. Your stomach roiled, a war raging between your head and your heart, screaming, telling you to leave, to run far far from here and never look back. But you read the pained expression on his face, still turned from you. He couldn’t even look at the mark, or you. He was anguished, ashamed. This wasn’t someone that reveled in You Know Who’s plans. You knew that, you always had. These were the same arms that had wrapped around you so tenderly, that hugged you, that made you feel safe.

You took a shaky breath, “Draco, look at me" you said. He hung his head in refusal. “Please” you whispered, crawling closer to him on the couch, closing the distance between you and pulling him into a hug. “I’m so sorry” you said finally when he refused to respond.

“You’re sorry?!” he said finally. “What in the world could you possibly have to be sorry about. I’m sorry. I am overwhelmingly sorry.”

“I’m sorry because I imagine you didn’t have much say in the matter, Draco. You Know Who doesn’t seem like someone that takes no for an answer and frankly neither do your parents. So, I’m sorry that you didn’t have a choice.”

There.

Without any explanation from him you were able to understand exactly what he had wanted to say but thought no one would believe. No one cared what a Death Eater had to say for themselves. Everyone lived in a black and white world and yet you were able to pick up on the shades of grey before he had even had a chance to explain it. You simply understood, you simply accepted him, just as he was. Just as the rest of his world was unwilling to do for you.

“I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve your pity or your compassion” he said through gritted teeth, the anguish pulsing through him as he pulled out of your arms and pressed his forehead to yours. “There’s an initiation of sorts, a task I have to complete to prove my allegiance…”

You pulled away to look at him as he hung his head once again. His next words were so quiet you nearly missed them or surely you thought you’d misheard him. “Dumbledore” he mumbled. “He wants me to… I have to…. kill him.”

Your hands were shaking as you tried to steady them and shook your head. “What?” you whispered in disbelief, your heart hammering in your chest as tears rushed to your eyes.

“Draco, what are you talking about? That can’t-he can’t expect-you would never…” you trailed off, mind turning to the cursed necklace that Katie Bell had touched in Hogsmeade, to the poisoned mead that had almost killed Ron, your classmate, your friend.

Just as your tears overwhelmed you, blurring your vision, you saw Draco place his head back in his hands choking back a sob of his own that managed to tear through his throat despite his best efforts. It was guttural and anguished with the pain of keeping this bottled up for who knew how many months; the regret, the shame, the fear, the self-loathing the insurmountable and unrelenting pressure after every failed attempt and the trail of pain he left in his path. He wept openly for Katie, for Ron, for Dumbledore, for himself and the lack of choice he had in the matter.

Your own sorrow overwhelmed you, but seeing him fall to pieces next to you broke something inside you, so many pieces of the puzzle over the last five years falling into place. So, you wept for him too, for the boy he was and the man he was fighting to be and without thinking you pulled yourself into his lap and hugged him tightly, letting your tears wet his sweatshirt and letting him grasp you desperately as he rocked back and forth, the feeling of your arms around him springing forth a new wave of guilt and regret, his body physically shaking with the force of his pain, but you held him tightly and you didn’t let go.

Eventually, his tears slowed to shaky breaths and you could tell he had nearly exhausted himself. You let go just slightly enough to take his face in your hands, his skin splotched, his eyes red and swollen, his face damp. You kissed both cheeks and his forehead. “It will be okay” you said, lying to him, lying to yourself but not knowing what else to say, what else you could possibly say to make this pain go away.

You hadn’t left to go back to your respective common rooms until the sun was nearly breaking the horizon.

You spent the rest of the day going through the motions of breakfast, classes, staring at the same page for over an hour while you studied, your mind whirring over and over on the information you learned.

That night, you were worried Draco wouldn’t want to see you again. You didn’t have any classes together and you hadn’t seen him all day. You padded to the Room of Requirement, and your heart dropped when he wasn’t waiting for you. You paced back and forth for several minutes, tucking yourself into an alcove at the sound of approaching footsteps when you peered out and saw it was him. You walked hesitantly to him, and he took your hand in his, brushing a kiss against your fingers as he led you inside.

That night you talked about everything, about his parents, about the vanishing cabinet, about what it was like to be in the presence of You Know Who, his eyes getting a faraway, detached look in them. He never let you go, constantly touching your hand, rubbing his thumb over your fingers, or pulling your legs to drape over his where he would draw circles on your thigh as he talked. You could tell that the talking was helping and for now all you could do was listen as you rested your head on his shoulder.

He kept glancing at you like he was surprised to see you still sitting there after everything he’d said, and he was, shocked, truthfully. But guilt and shame gave way to comfort, a grounding that you were still here after everything he’d said, after he’d bared the ugliest and darkest parts of his soul. He could trust you to stay and you finally understood what was at stake, his life, his family, your own, perhaps everything you knew and loved. He seemed to breath easier once he had gotten so much off of his chest, but you felt there was still something that bothered him in the way his eyes glanced at you, like you were going to break or disappear. “What is it?” you asked.

“They’re coming here and I have no way to keep you safe. I don’t even know when they’re going to show up. I won’t be able to warn you.” The words tumbled out of him, the worry clear across his face. You squeezed his hand. “I-I’ll be okay” you said, your reassurance waning. It was getting harder and harder to be strong against the enormity of what he had shared with you.

“Okay isn’t good enough. I don’t know how to keep you safe. Absolutely safe. To prevent anything bad from happening to you… Nothing bad can happen to you” he said as he pressed his forehead to yours and breathed heavily.

And for once, you didn’t know what to say.

As the sun rose, he pressed a kiss to your lips, knowing that that feeling would have to carry him for the day before you parted in the hallway. You headed for your dormitory but he made straight for the library. There had to be an answer he wasn’t thinking of. A spell, a way you could apparate, someplace he could hide you where no one would ever come looking for you, and he was going to find it.

He skipped every class that day as he scoured through book after book for safety spells, hexes, charms, even herbology textbooks, couldn’t there be a weed you could swallow that would make you invisible? Nothing seemed good enough. He was pacing back and forth when he walked by the restricted section. He had had no luck elsewhere, it seemed he didn’t have a choice. He slipped inside, quickly orienting himself towards a section on dark magic. He had no intention of cursing you or using any sort of dark magic anywhere in your vicinity, but he was desperate for an answer, for anything.

It was near dinnertime and his eyes were blurring from a sleepless night and a lack of food. He pulled the next book over to him, 'A Brief History of Death Eaters'. My people he thought bitterly as he flipped it open, thumbing through the pages, scanning images of the Dark Mark, making his own crawl under his skin, and nearly skimming past another series of pages displaying a different sort of mark of raised scars near the wrist. This caught his attention. He’d seen the same mark on his mother. Anima Notam, he read, The Soul’s Brand and he sat up a little straighter.

While technically completely unrelated to dark magic or Death Eaters, it was a charm commonly used by spouses of Death Eaters, a linking spell, tying them to each other. There wasn’t much written about it, it seemed like the extent of its powers were unknown, only that the charm was only as strong as the souls’ connection to each other and that there could be protective powers in it. He grabbed the book and quickly sought out more, finding two or three other books that referenced it, each confirming that there was an element of protection. It seemed promising and he began to get his hopes up as he flipped back to the first book to study further how to perform the spell. His heart sank as his eyes skimmed words like “searing” “burning” “excruciatingly painful” “a brand that would leave the initials of the Death Eater on their arm forever.” No. He wouldn’t cause you any more pain than he already had and he wouldn’t make you commit yourself to his name on your body for the rest of your life. He wasn’t sure why he had expected this to be easier. The sun was nearly setting, so he ripped the pages out of the book, shoving them in his pocket before retreating back to his room.

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