#I know I’ve been unable to do anything for like more than a year | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

primehyuck · 1 year ago

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MOVES

aka good things take time (the happy ending version)

word count: 11.3k

i first started writing this because i’ve been listening to the song Moves by Suki Waterhouse on repeat, but it became much more than that

contents: long time best friend!haechan, slice of life, pining and yearning, chronological time jumps (mostly college and young adulthood), other members mentioned (Mark and Jeno!roommates), kissing, fluff, wet dreams, a good example of two people who seriously need to communicate, face sitting, morning sex, lots of pet names

“Do you think we’ll be friends for a long time?” Haechan’s soft voice distracts your attempt to focus on a blade of the blurry ceiling fan, unable to keep you cool despite it spinning so fast you think it might fly away.

“How do you mean?” the bed squeaks when Haechan sits up to lean over you.

“Growing up, I feel like my parents didn’t have many friends aside from each other. My mom told me that it’s because when you get older your priorities change and you realize who adds value to your life, and that’s who you decide to keep.” His eyes are glowing with sincerity, body blocking the flow of air from touching you at all “so when we’re older, and married with kids and other priorities, and we maybe live in different cities, do you think we’ll still be friends?”

You stare at him for a moment before shoving his face out of the way of the fans air stream.

“Definitely,” your confidence soothes him enough that he lays back down “if I ever muster up the creativity to come up with a reason to stop being your friend, you have to swear you’ll tell me how stupid I’m being, swear to me.” you smack his chest before he can even answer.

“I swear!” He smiles to himself, staring up at the ceiling with you, rubbing his hand over the warm spot where your hand made contact, melting into the mattress.

———

Growing up people always joked that Haechan and you would fall in love, that it was inevitable, practical even. Because, if you fall in love with your best friend you’ve already conquered one of the highest mountains - finding someone that you like, and who likes you back.

You had both seen the other in a relationship, an inevitability when you’ve been friends with someone since puberty. He’d cheered you on when you had your first kiss during a game of spin the bottle in high school, forced you to come out on double dates with him and a friend of his you didn’t even like just so he could take someone else out, and freshman year of college he’d even introduced you to the person you'd lost your virginity to.

The only time he cockblocked you was when you tried to get to know any of his friends more than platonically, so eventually you gave up and settled for real friendship with all of them.

“Trust me, you don’t want to touch him with a six foot pole.” He’d said freshman year when you had mentioned your attraction to his roommate, Mark.

“He seems so nice, though.” you pouted

“He is nice, but that doesn’t mean you want to be with him.”

“How would you know what I want?” you scoffed, and he looked at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Has the wind beneath my wings ever led you into the wrong arms?” He was highly animated, offended that you would question his judgment.

By the start of sophomore year it was obvious to everyone else that you were strictly off limits. All of his friends had decided unanimously that even if you did attempt anything with them they had no choice but to shut you down. The cold stare Haechan unknowingly serves them from across the room whenever they got too close was enough to keep them away. None of the boys ever minded the boundaries with you, there always was an ease in your friendship since they all knew it could never go further, but that didn’t mean they never thought about the possibility.

One night, at the end of junior year, Haechan is nowhere to be found at his own party and you graciously accept Jeno’s invitation upstairs when you complain of a headache, “we can play Mario Kart, and it won’t be all competitive like when Haechan plays with us.”

It starts like normal, and you're having fun when you realize that your tipsy brain can’t focus on the screen and the conversation simultaneously, opting for the latter as you relax into Jeno’s pillows. You don’t even notice him inching closer to you until his nose touches yours, tugging at a strand of your hair. This is the first time any of Haechan’s friends have shown interest in you, you’d never even been on the receiving end of a flirtatious stare from across the beer pong table, so you take the reins.

Kissing Jeno feels a little bit like winning, like you’ve finally made it past the invisible forcefield Haechan had put up around his friends. The kiss is lazy and hot, Jeno props himself up on one elbow and presses your back into the mattress with his chest. Your eager fingers run beneath his shirt, his abs tightening when you trail them over his sides. Your spine tingles when he groans into your mouth, the hand on your cheek moving to grip your knee and hike your leg over his hip. His hand holds strong around your thigh, and you sigh when he grinds into you.

Jeno pulls away too soon, stopping your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt with a pained sigh as he drops your leg to roll onto his back, flinging an arm over his eyes.

“Fuck, I should not be doing this with you.”

“Why, you don’t want to?” You want to curl into yourself, sitting up to stare down at his shaking head.

“No, definitely not that.” he pulls his arm away to meet your eyes, the alcohol in his veins making him brave enough to admit “Haechan would be pissed.”

“Haechan?” you question “did he say something to you?” Jeno groans, sitting up and hooking his elbows around his knees, staring at the mattress between his legs.

“No, no. He’s never actually said anything,” he knows he’s revealing too much, but he also knows he’s gone too far to stop “we just know he would never want us to cross that line with you.”

“We?” you can feel embarrassment bubbling in your chest at the idea of all of your friends talking about this.

“Yeah, you know, all the guys. We figured you were just off limits, I don’t know.” he grimaces, looking up at you with apologetic eyes when you don’t respond. You huff and climb off the bed, feeling rejected in more ways than one.

You’d crossed a boundary tonight, but Jeno was still a close friend, someone you’d spent a lot of time with since he met Haechan freshman year. He still knows you, so he grabs your wrist before you can leave, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed so he can stand you between his legs.

“I’m sorry, don’t be mad.” He envelops your hands in his and brings them to his chest.

“I’m not mad,” you mumble, avoiding his apologetic gaze “I’m embarrassed that all of my friends agreed not to touch me.”

“Did you really think not a single one of us was ever interested in you?” you shrug and he squeezes your hands tighter, heart tugging in his chest.

“When people don’t act interested, that’s usually a safe assumption.” you pout and Jeno’s laugh buzzes through your linked fingers "I gave up on all of you halfway through freshman year."

“Well, some of us are better actors than I remember.”

He has you laughing by the time you leave his room, sealing the night with one more self indulgent kiss and a pinky swear to never tell Haechan about what happened.

———

Halfway through the first semester of senior year Haechan bangs angrily on his roommates door before swinging it open and Jeno is genuinely shocked that it's taken this long for the gossip to hit his ears. The rest of the boys had clocked Jeno the next morning for being ‘too happy’ and he had to make them all swear not to tell, wanting to protect your pride and his own friendship with Haechan.

"You slut!" Haechan points an accusatory finger in Jeno's direction, dragging his feet slowly toward him until he's so close Jeno has to bat his hand out of his face.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about." Haechan's voice is low and angry, something new and unpleasant sparking in his gut at the idea of Jeno kissing you, touching you.

"No, I don't." Jeno can’t help but antagonize. Pleased with the perfect opportunity to trick Haechan into saying out loud what everyone else seems to have known for years.

"You kissed my best friend!" He shrieks, tossing his hands up in the air dramatically.

"So what, she's not allowed to kiss people?" Haechan squints his eyes at Jeno’s response, scrunching his nose in annoyance “how did you even find out?”

"She can kiss whoever she wants, it's all of you that aren't allowed to kiss her." Haechan waves his hand wildly toward the bedroom door, alluding to the large group of boys living in the house “you know Mark can’t keep a secret, he’s been bursting at the seams for months. All I had to do was ask.”

"It happened forever ago dude, why are you so pissed? You've never even given us a chance to get close to her in that way, maybe one of us could really like her." Jeno reasons, tugging at Haechan's strings, watching the gears in his brain turn as he tries to come up with a real argument.

"She has a boyfriend," Haechan finally says with a frown at the thought of the guy he’d only recently met, he doesn’t like him at all. From his stupid hair to the shoes he wears, there’s not a thing about your new boyfriend that Haechan thinks is good enough for you. He collapses into the gaming chair across from where Jeno is relaxed on the couch, not having moved at all since Haechan stormed in "plus, I think any of you would know by now, you've all known her for four years."

"I think, that it can take a lot longer than four years to realize how much you like someone." Jeno bites, "how long have you known her?"

"Since middle school." He picks at the hole in the knee of his black jeans, realizing what Jeno is alluding to, defensive exterior quickly crumbling.

"Right, I think that if you're blind enough then it can take ten years to realize how much you like someone."

"Well, maybe ten years is too long and that person missed their chance." Haechan turns his head to stare out the window, anxiously spinning the chair side to side.

"You know I'm talking about you, right?"

"God, yes, I know you're talking about me." Haechan glares at his friend, fidgeting stopping abruptly "and I know I've been a complete idiot about it, but like I said, I’m out of time."

———

Haechan can’t stop his free hand from clenching and unclenching as you sob into your pillow, his less angry hand rubbing over your back.

“He told me he saw us moving in together after graduation,” your voice shakes “how do you look someone in the eyes and say shit like that and then sleep with someone else?”

“I don’t know,” Haechan replies earnestly, feeling as helpful as flip flops in the snow from where he sits on the edge of your mattress “I’m so sorry.”

He takes your silence as an invitation, lying on his stomach, face turned toward you, fingers still drawing soothing circles over your shoulder blades. He waits patiently for you to calm down, unease swarming his stomach knowing that even after years of friendship he can’t truly comfort you in this moment.

“I’m so embarrassed.” you sniffle, smearing your face over your pillow before turning to look at him. He holds his breath, waiting for you to collect yourself enough to explain.

“I’m so gullible, he even told me he’s cheated in the past and for whatever reason I believed that he’d treat me differently, that he’d love me enough.” Haechan has to count to five in his head to stay calm before he speaks.

“You have no reason to be embarrassed. The most natural thing you can do is believe someone when they say they love you.” He murmurs, turning onto his side so he can pull you into a hug. When you curl into his body to bury your face in his chest he can only pray you can’t hear his heart pound against his ribs.

“He’s an idiot, and he didn’t deserve any of the love you gave him. I promise, you’re so much better off.”

Haechan hates the piece of himself that’s relieved your relationship has ended. The same piece that hated your ex the minute he met him, that feels heavy in your absence whenever you’re busy with anyone who isn’t him. The piece that crosses it’s fingers whenever you get this close in hopes that you’ll be the first one to cross the line, to finally do what he’s thought about doing for the last few months since he realized exactly how he felt about you.

“Thank you,” you mumble into his tear dampened shirt, lifting your leg over his to cuddle in even closer “thanks for always being my friend, even when I do dumb shit, like let boys be mean to me.”

He nuzzles his nose into your scalp, eyes fluttering shut at the smell of your shampoo “Thanks for letting me. Besides, even Beyoncé got cheated on, so you clearly aren’t that dumb.” the crowd in his brain cheers when you giggle into his chest.

“You’re so annoying.” He holds you even tighter.

———

“I can’t believe it,” your jaw drops and Haechan whips his head up nervously to look at you from across the couch

“What happened?”

“I got it, I got the job!” you shove his feet off your lap to jump up excitedly, bouncing on your toes as you read the email out loud. Haechan’s ears are ringing so loud he barely catches the first half, trying to shake off the dazed look he’s sure appears on his face.

“We were extremely impressed with your resume and even more so with the impression you left on the board during your interview, blah blah blah, excited to offer you this position, blah blah blah, and a relocation bonus to join us in in our new office!” the pitch of your voice rises a few octaves as you finish reading.

Haechan stares at you from his spot on the couch, eyes wide with shock that you’re too excited to notice, skimming your screen as you re-read the details in your offer letter.

His entire body is buzzing, torn between feeling excited at your accomplishment and sorry for himself.

He had a plan, a really good one, he thought. After your breakup you’d made it painfully clear that you wanted to be single for a while, and he knew if he could just be patient, it would all be worth it. So Haechan decided to bottle his feelings up, sitting patiently by your side where he had been for so many years, waiting for you to heal and hoping that when you were finally ready to start dating again he’d have mustered up the courage to make the first move.

“Lee Donghyuck, are you even listening to me!?” you drop your phone to pull him up off the couch, bouncing up and down with your fingers intertwined “I’m moving to my dream city, to start my dream job.” you reiterate and he snaps out of it, sweeping the imaginary shards of glass that his plan had been made out of under the rug and pulling you into a hug.

“That’s amazing, I’m so proud of you.”

“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.” You deadpan, but squeeze him back just as tight.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to miss you is all.” He admits, "I'd follow you if my job didn't keep me here."

“I’ll make sure you don’t miss me too much, don’t worry.” you plant your cheek on his chest, surprised at the relief you feel in hearing him say it first.

———

This feeling was still a little unfamiliar, nerves. Haechan had never made you nervous growing up; excited, annoyed, passionate maybe, but never nervous.

The nerves began last summer, when he’d come out to visit you for the first time to celebrate his birthday. It was the longest you’d gone without seeing each other since you’d met, almost ten full months and the anticipation was palpable.

When he steps through the airport doors you think that it’s the relief of finally being near him again that knocks the wind out of you. Running into his open arms and being squeezed so tightly in them that you tap his shoulder to let you breathe. Ruffling his hair when he steps back and ignoring the fact that he had grown so much since you’d seen him last.

But as the night goes on, the slight changes to the person you have memorized become glaringly obvious. The way his cheeks have lost some of their cushion, revealing a sharp jaw and pointed cheekbones. The natural wave in his once unruly hair now falling perfectly over his brow bone, he had dyed it a little darker which made his tan skin glow even in dim lighting. Even his smell seemed to draw you into a trance, a much more expensive version of the Haechan you know.

“You know, that group of girls has been staring over at you since we walked in.” You raise your eyebrows playfully, pointing your glass toward the pretty gaggle that keeps walking past the booth you and Haechan occupy.

He doesn’t break eye contact with you before shrugging, “I didn’t come here to see them, I came to see you.” he smiles, punctuating his thought by reaching over the table and tapping your nose.

“I know, I know,” you laugh, batting him away “It never hurts to know when people are staring, though”

His face is unreadable as he rests his arm lazily up over the bench of the booth, body sinking into the seat while he lifts his glass to swirl his drink, biting the words that have been resting on the tip of his tongue the entire trip, and at the end of every phone call since you started your new job.

“How are you, seriously.” You push. In the time since you moved he’d started and ended a relationship with a girl that you’d never met. Your new job kept you so busy that you hadn’t even learned about the breakup until a week later, when you finally had the time to call him back. The guilt of your absence weighs you down, resenting your inability to be there for him the way he had been for you in the past.

“I’m over it, seriously.” You know he’s telling the truth, but it’s in your nature to pry.

“You never really talked about, why, you know.”

“Do I have to?”

“No, I’m sorry, I just feel so behind on your life.” You sigh and push your empty glass to the side, swirling your finger in the ring of cold water it leaves behind.

“It’s okay, really. You’ve been busy, I understand.” He reaches across the table to stop your anxious fingers “I didn’t love her the way I knew I should, that’s all. It’s a good thing that it ended, and I’m happy that it did.”

“That’s all that matters, then.” and he’s grateful that you drop the subject.

You eventually get back to your apartment, both giggly and flush from the alcohol still fogging your brain despite the long walk you'd hoped would lessen it. Haechan holds your hand the whole way back, even when he stops suddenly to pet a dog, dragging you down to the ground with him. He can’t help himself, grateful that at this point you'd touched one another in every way other than what he dreams about most, and you seem oblivious to his need to be so close to you.

As you get ready for bed he lets himself watch you undress facing the wall away from him, unaware of his gaze burning into your backside and the way his fingers tingle at the thought of pulling at the meat of your hips. He scolds his heart for thudding so loud when you squeeze your eyes into a smile at his reflection standing next to yours at the sink while you brush your teeth, the domestication of your friendship that he used to appreciate now suffocating him.

You put on a movie and invite him to rest his head on the pillow in your lap, wishing he could bury his nose into the skin of your thighs beneath it. Halfway through the movie he has to sit up to hide the way his cock is hardening at the feeling of your nails combing through his hair and down his shoulder, occasionally thrumming over his chest. He pulls a blanket off the back of the couch and tosses it over his legs as casually as possible, pulling you into his side by your shoulder, the other arm stretched across the back of the couch.

"Are you cold for the first time in your life?" Haechan never wants to use a blanket, but you’re grateful for the position giving you access to bury your face into his chest, gripping his shirt.

"No, just want to be warmer." he presses a blushing cheek onto the top of your head, trying to think of anything except the way your hair smells, or the feeling of the side of your breast brushing his wrist through your shirt. Haechan feels eighteen again and like he's discovering the connection between romantic and sexual feelings for the first time in his life. He tries to match his breathing to yours, holding his breath whenever you shift in his hold and reconnecting his stomach with your back as quickly as possible. The temptation to pour his heart out is overwhelming, but when he feels your body completely relax into his and your breathing slow down, the words become trapped in his throat, so he lets you sleep.

Haechan had never experienced a shorter 48 hours than that weekend he spent following you around the city you now call home.

You’re shining in your new space, and he happily trails behind you to all the places you’ve discovered in the almost year since you moved. His stomach does somersaults whenever you point something out that reminds you of him.

“I’ve been waiting to come here until you could come with me!” you're so excited to take him to the video game themed coffee shop that your co-workers had recommended “I thought about coming to see if it was even worth it, but I only want to play these kinds of games with you anyway.”

Sometimes he can forget about his feelings for you, when things are just as they always have been. You talk with and touch him the same, laugh at his jokes the same. He thinks that if he were to ever say out loud what he’s been feeling, that the two of you would still be the same but with a little More, ‘you guys’ but on steroids. So when everything is normal he can pretend like it‘a not. He can act like the More is there when you hold his hand to drag him around to the different machines, play games he wants to play even if you don’t want to, you even wipe ice cream off of his chin when his cone starts to melt because he’s talking too much to eat and he wonders why it took him so long to see it this way, and if you could too.

He keeps thinking the moment will come, when he’ll know spilling his guts to you is the right thing to do. But between you gushing over how much you love your new life and your willingness to point out every girl who has blinked at him this weekend, he completely loses the steam he’d gained during his flight, regardless of how his imagination runs wild with the More.

He curses himself the entire weekend for his lack of bravery, hoping that keeping his feelings in is the right decision. After his recent relationship crashed and burned because of his feelings for you he thought he had no choice but to come clean. But watching you, being with you in your new life makes him realize that his role in it hasn’t changed even if his feelings for you have.

The lump in his throat as he stands outside the departure doors is more than just sadness at the thought of leaving you, it’s the realization that he has to let the romantic idea of you go.

“How come you never cry when we have to leave each other,” you hiccup into his chest, and he coos your name lovingly.

“Don’t worry, you know I save my tears for the plane to make everyone in my row uncomfortable.” He knows that you hate that he’s making you laugh at a time like this, pulling away so you can swat his chest and he raises his hands in surrender.

“When will we be able to see each other again?”

“As soon as possible.” He nods reassuringly, wiping your tears with his thumb, heart pounding as he stares into your watering eyes “hey, you’re my best friend in the world, you annoy me every day, and I love you.”

“Whatever, I love you too.” you laugh, but his heart speeds up at the words that you’ve said to him thousands of times. You sweep your arms around him one last time before pushing him toward the airport doors “you better go, if you miss your flight I can’t guarantee I’ll let you leave at all.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He walks backwards slowly, staring at you with a ‘kicked puppy’ kind of face he mastered years ago and you wave enthusiastically, blowing loud kisses into the air that he catches and clutches to his heart.

“This is it,” he thinks, “this has to be it.”

———

Haechan is dreaming about you. He has been nightly ever since he got back from his birthday weekend. He’s grateful the dreams have variety, since some of them overwhelm him to the point of waking up and not being able to fall back asleep.

Sometimes, you’re young again and whenever anyone says “You know, it’s just a matter of time until one of you has a crush on the other.” you both theatrically gag, laughing at each other as if it were the most insane idea in the world. Or, you're sitting on his childhood couch watching your guys' favorite movie for the hundredth weekend in a row, vocalizing the parts of the two main characters and recreating all the best scenes.

Sometimes you’re at his apartment just hanging out together, which are dreams that feel so real he almost expects to see you in his kitchen when he wakes up. Most of these dreams spark a deja vu laced flame in his gut so deep he finds himself confusing them with memories. The ache of missing you wakes him up before his alarm some mornings, and he finds himself face timing you once he knows you're awake just to watch you make coffee and wash your face.

But sometimes, he has dreams that make him feel so ashamed he can barely text you back in the morning. Dreams where he reaches to touch you and you let him, where you tug at his hair and moan his name while he does all the things that he can only do to you in his sleep. He hates to say that these are his favorite, but it's the one dream he knows he'll never actually achieve and he goes to bed every night praying for them.

That’s the kind of dream he’s having when his phone buzzes him awake. He answers without looking because there are only a handful of people who can reach him when he’s on ‘do not disturb’, and you’re one of them. He hums a sleepy greeting into his phone, putting it on speaker next to his pillow and nearly drifting right back into the dream and between your thighs.

“Donghyuck” his eyes shoot open at the sound of your voice “did i wake you up?”

He can practically hear the pout in your voice, squinting at the time on his phone, “Yes, it’s three in the morning,” he stares down to where he’s half hard, running an embarrassed hand over his face even though there’s no possible way for you to know “are you okay?”

“No, well technically yes but I miss you which means things could be better.” you slur your words and Haechan smiles, somehow he's never annoyed that you call him pretty much every time you drink. He thinks it's because he's familiar with this version of you, though he definitely hasn't seen it often since college graduation. This version of you loves him hard, and is never afraid to say it.

"I miss you too," he takes a beat before adding "I was dreaming about you just now."

You gasp excitedly "Really! What were we doing." He smirks at the thought of telling you that you had been sitting on his face, hand reaching back for his cock while he guides your cunt over his tongue until you were shaking above him.

"Just, hanging out." he shrugs. It's his second time this week alone dreaming of your clit bumping his nose, and the thought makes his mouth water.

"I don't believe you." You say accusingly "that's way too boring for a mind like yours to dream up."

"What exactly is my mind like?" He yawns, throwing his forearm over his eyes.

"Oh, you know," you hum "your mind is a galaxy, with at least a billion planets and twice as many stars. I wish I could fly into your head and explore it, but NASA doesn't have the funds."

Haechan holds his breath at your compliment, the smile on his face so wide he can hear it in his own voice "That sounds like an episode of Magic School Bus."

"Your brain is definitely cooler than some cartoon, it's pretty much my favorite place on Earth."

"How would you know, you've never actually been inside?" He shakes his head, teasing you gently. Hearing words like these come out of your mouth breaks his heart and glues it back together at the same time.

"Are you saying you never think about me?" you ask him, not an ounce of sarcasm in your voice.

"I think about you all the time, I promise, all the planets in my brain are shaped like you." You hum, pleased with his response. He shuts his eyes and waits for your answer.

"Yeah, all the planets in mine are shaped like you, too." you pause for a second and add "plus all the stars, I win, I think about you more."

———

This time when Haechan comes to visit you, you know the nerves are more than just excitement at seeing your best friend. It’s a feeling that is nestled so deep in your stomach it makes you a little nauseous. You haven't seen him since you went home for the holidays and he only has one night in the city. You find yourself grueling over your reflection in the mirror, not used to being self conscious in front of him. You’re only going out for happy hour, but you put yourself together to last all night.

When Haechan finally arrives he whistles lowly, making you blush when he pulls out of your hug and requests a spin.

“I appreciate that you got so dressed up for me.” He teases, hoping you don’t catch his eyes sweeping over your legs, wanting to commit you in this dress to memory.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you roll your eyes as if you hadn’t spent the last two hours making sure you looked as perfect as possible. Hoping he doesn’t see the pile of clothes shoved into your closet from all the failed attempts.

“Never,” he grabs your purse off of the counter and opens the door, sweeping his arm out in front of him dramatically “after you. There are some strangers outside who are waiting to catch a glimpse of you, they just don’t know it yet.”

“You are so dramatic.” You lock the door behind you, using the moment facing away from him to collect yourself. Lately you catch yourself wondering if he'd always been so flirtatious, or if you're just forcing meaning behind his words because of how badly you want him to be.

“What, a guy can’t compliment his best friend?”

You smile widely at him and grab your bag out of his grasp, popping your key inside and walking toward the entrance of your building. Praying your fingers stop shaking when you finally get a drink in you. Haechan throws his arm around your shoulders while you walk down the street to your favorite cocktail bar and you're grateful for his usual chatter, talking to you about work and his slow climb up the ladder.

“They put me in a hotel this time, so you don’t have to worry about making me breakfast in the morning.” He smiles at you, sipping his drink gingerly.

“You know I never cook you breakfast.” He feels so far away across the table and you wish that you were sitting next to him instead, shoulders cold without the weight of his arm around them. It feels so good to have him touch you, to feel like you're his. There's a small part of you that feels guilty for using his knack for physical affection to your advantage, he has no idea what the heat of his skin on yours does.

“I know, but all the meetings are in the hotel anyway so it’s easier this time to just stay there.”

You try not to let yourself visibly deflate at the news, wanting to keep him for yourself the whole time he’s in town. His knee presses against yours under the table and you focus all your energy into acting the way you would have before, but you can’t focus on anything else and cross your legs to pull away from him as casually as possible. As badly as you want to touch him, sometimes you can’t.

“What time do you have to be up?”

He groans, leaning back enough that his knee now slides against your shin, “too early,” and glances down at his now empty glass, motioning to the bartender for another “which means you need to drink faster, so I can stop at a reasonable hour.”

You smile, downing the rest of your drink in one gulp, when his foot taps against yours you know it's going to be a long night.

The end of the night finds you together on your couch with a shared bottle of wine sitting empty on the coffee table, his early meetings temporarily forgotten. You and Haechan have been in this position plenty of times, drunk, slap happy and overly touchy in a way that you had always been comfortable being with one another. The difference now is you, this version of you who wants your best friend in an entirely different way.

Every time he pulls you closer you feel electricity shoot straight to your heart so intensely that you have to duck out of his grasp. You don’t know what to do with the feelings that have been growing gradually from your toes up, now practically sprouting out of your scalp with a neon sign blinking “I’m in love with you” over and over.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Haechan whines when you all but flinch away from his hand reaching for his phone near your arm. He’d been aware of it all night, the space you left between the two of you while you walked back from the bar, your sudden inability to maintain the eye contact that he craved. The complete lack of physical touch makes him feel dejected.

“Doing what?” You give him a panicked look, practically sober at the thought of being found out, of what it would feel like to be rejected by him.

“You’re not letting me touch you,” he frowns, and the alcohol buzzes through your veins again “not that you need to let me, but you only avoid it like this when you’re upset. Did I do something?” he pouts, tired eyes low when he flops his head onto his bicep resting on the back of the couch. You forget to breathe for a second when he looks up at you under dark lashes.

“I’m not upset. I wasn’t doing it on purpose.” you’re lying through your teeth, but scoot an inch closer to him to make your point. He doesn’t look convinced, and if you’d had less to drink you may have noticed the mischievous glint in his eye before he grabs you by your arm, knocking you off balance and into his chest.

“See,” he sighs happily, wrapping his arms around your body and you can feel his chest buzz when he hums, cheek pressed to the top of your head. You have no choice but to ungracefully shift your lower body closer to him, making yourself a sponge and soaking in his familiar touch “isn’t that better?”

You nod, “Yes, it is better.” and you really wish he didn’t know you so well, that even in his fifth hour of being drunk he can read your mind. He pulls your ear off his heart to grab your cheeks, smushing them together and whispering your name with a shake of his head.

“What is it?” he urges, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist to loosen his grip. You shut your eyes, take a deep breath and count to three in your head before you can talk yourself out of leaning forward and pressing your lips to his.

You feel him falter for a half second before he’s kissing you back, pulling your face closer and pushing his body toward yours. You can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in your ears when his tongue touches yours, and then suddenly his mouth is gone. He moves so quick you have to put your arms out to stop yourself from face planting into the cushion he had just been sitting on.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” you gasp “i shouldn’t have done that, Haechan, I’m so sorry.”

It takes everything in you to look up to where he’s now standing with his arms crossed over his chest protectively. You have no idea what he’s thinking, staring down at you with wide eyes. Insecurity sweeps through you under his intense gaze, and you almost beg him to say something.

“I’m seeing someone,” the way the confession rings in your ears would have you believing that he screamed the words, but his voice was barely above a whisper “shit, I’m sorry.”

You aren’t sure if it’s your life that flashes before your eyes, or your years of friendship with him, at this point the two tend to blur together.

“That’s-” you sit back on your calves and inhale shakily, knowing it’s not even worth it to attempt to fake any sort of excitement for him “why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs, swallowing thickly and pulling his eyes away from your face to stare at the ceiling “It’s new and I didn’t know how. It just never came up.”

“Well then, I’m sorry that it didn’t. I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t know what came over me.” grateful that he’s finally the one avoiding eye contact with you so he doesn’t see your legs wobble when you stand “probably best to pretend that never happened. I’m just drunk and I missed you-”

Your name sounds so pathetic when he says it this time and you think it’s the eighth wonder of the natural world that you haven’t started crying yet. You shake your head instead, wishing so desperately that you had changed out of the dress you were wearing as you pull the slinky material down your thighs.

“Honestly, Haechan,” You regret your next words before they even hit the air “you should probably go. You have an early morning.”

The shock on his face pains you, but you can’t stand to see what you can only assume is pity growing in his eyes for another second.

“I don’t want to go, I want to talk about this.”

“I’m sorry.” you say again and his shoulders slump in defeat, recognizing that you’d made up your mind.

“It’s okay.” He means it, shuffling forward and the look on your face is nearly enough to bring him to his knees. His breath catches when you shift away the inch he moved toward you, eyes locked on his and he can see the desperation in them before he hears it in your voice.

“Text me when you get to the hotel?” your voice cracks with a heavy mix of exhaustion and embarrassment that makes him nods once, grabbing his things and walking slowly toward your door. He turns to look at you, but his words catch in his throat when he sees your eyes begin to water, mustering up all his energy to offer what he prays is a reassuring smile before letting himself out.

You sink back into the couch when the door clicks shut, head hanging in your hands as the tears finally start to flow. You cry so hard you feel like you could throw up, replaying his rejection over and over in your mind, shame and regret coursing through your veins. Pure embarrassment heats your body at the look on his face when he told you he was seeing someone, and you’re not sure if it was disgust or pity in his eyes.

On top of the rejection, knowing that he didn’t feel like he could share something as big as meeting someone with you was a dagger to the heart, up until recently you had never kept a secret from him, and even this one you clearly couldn’t keep in for long.

You force yourself into the shower, scrubbing angrily at your skin under the scalding water. You get out once your fingers have pruned and your skin feels raw, avoiding the mirror on your way to your bedroom. You kick angrily at the dress you'd left on the floor, watching it land near the pile of outfits you had discarded while getting ready.

Haechan had texted you nearly thirty minutes earlier

“made it back”

you give it a thumbs up before turning your phone off, setting an alarm with the clock on your side table and letting the emotional exhaustion lull you to sleep.

------

Haechan is realizing that there is no way in hell that you need space more than he needs to talk to you. He tries to call you multiple times the first week after you kissed him but you never answered, and Haechan doesn’t want to push you to the point of no return. What he really wants is to go back in time and not leave you that night, but the pain in your eyes was so pronounced he couldn't bare to make it any worse. The only physical proof that you had kissed him at all being the stupid blue thumbs up on the text he had sent you that night. It's followed by a slew of reassuring texts, saying that he broke up with his girlfriend and if you would please just talk to him, that he's not mad.

This is the feeling he carries with him nearly two weeks later on the flight to you, when he’s sure that another minute of silence from you will kill him. By the time he gets to your apartment it’s almost midnight, so he knocks loud enough to wake you up.

When you open the door in a shirt he thinks might be his, Haechan knows he has no choice. He's speaking before you can say anything, before he can change his mind.

"I came here to tell you that I think you're being really stupid." He curses internally for the obvious nerves in his voice, your tired eyes widen with shock at his words.

"Excuse me?"

"Years ago you made me swear that I would tell you if you ever came up with a reason not to be my friend anymore. So I'm telling you now, I think you're being really fucking stupid."

"I'm not doing that" You defend yourself, tearing up at the sight of him. He pushes into your apartment, shutting the door behind him and standing close enough to touch. He’s staring you down with pleading eyes, and you bury your face in your hands so you don’t have to look at him.

“Then why are you ignoring me? Why won’t you let me fix this?”

“I don’t know I just,” you inhale shakily “I don't know how to do it right now, not like this."

"Like what?" He hopes he already knows the answer, but needs to hear you say it, to know that you’re as serious as he is. Your mouth feels full of cotton when he forces you to look at him by whispering your name, pulling your hands from your face and his heart pinches tightly at the tears welling in your eyes "please tell me, please. Like what?"

"You already know," your bottom lip betrays you, voice weak beneath heavy emotion when you speak "I love you, Haechan. I'm in love with you, and I don't know what to do about it. I feel like I fucked everything up, but I can’t undo it."

He feels his lungs fill with relief. Haechan steps forward to close the small gap between your bodies, grabbing your jaw to rest his forehead against yours. You falter, but his hand on the small of your back keeps you from going anywhere, he's practically panting and you can barely stand, dizzy with the feeling of him. You want to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming when he whispers "You didn't fuck anything up."

He ghosts his lips over yours for a moment until he's sure you're not going to stop him. When he finally kisses you it's with years of pent up adoration, directing your arms around his neck and pressing his thumb firmly into your jaw, long fingers wrapping around the side of your throat. He practically whines when your fingers tighten in his hair and your lips part for his warm tongue. His arm wraps around your waist so tightly you have to hinge backward to keep your mouths connected, gasping at the strength you didn't know he had.

He keeps your stomach flush to his own and kisses you until you're practically limp in his arms, pulling away to breathe. His eyes are shut as he rubs his nose over yours

"I love you, too. I've been meaning to tell you for a while." All the blood rushes into your ears at his words and you can't stop your biggest worry from spilling into the air.

“What if you change your mind?”

“I made up my mind a long time ago, there's nothing you could do to change it." He blinks his eyes open, pulling his face away from yours just enough to see you, the trepidation in your eyes makes him say your name quietly.

"It's only me, you know me," he assures you in a hushed tone "you have to know by now that you are my entire world."

You could laugh, only him, as if he hasn’t been one of the most important people in your life since the day you met. As if he isn’t someone who has seen you at every stage of it so far. It’s Haechan, who has always been funny, who has witnessed the worst sides of you and never made you feel bad, who has never left your side.

You kiss him again, fingers wrapping in tight fists around his shirt to keep yourself grounded. Haechan’s heart pounds happily in his chest and he hopes you can feel it this time, both hands nestling into your hair. He kisses you gently in an effort to slow down your urgent movements, moaning at the taste of your mouth. You fall into his rhythm easily, the way his tongue rolls gently over yours makes your body go up in flames. You move your hands to slide beneath his shirt, landing on the strong muscles in his back and teasing your fingers up his sides.

When you finally come up for air he stares at you for a minute before laughing, stomach tightening beneath your fingers when he does.

"What's funny?" you shut your eyes, leaning your forehead into his chest, letting the pretty sound ring in your ears.

"Nothing, I'm just-" he cuts himself off with a shrug, nuzzling his nose into the crown of your head "I love you, and you love me back. That's all, that's how easy it is."

"It hasn't been easy at all, in fact my life has been very very hard since your birthday last year.” He pulls away from your head to ogle at you.

"My birthday last year?" You nod, feeling your cheeks flush under his intense gaze, it had really been that long "God, I'm sorry I'm such a fucking idiot."

He's kissing you again before you can ask him to elaborate, grabbing hold of both wrists in one hand while he walks you backward and guides you up onto the counter as slowly as he has to in order to keep his lips on yours. His hips are the perfect height for you to wrap your legs around, gasping in surprise when he slides his hands around your ass and presses your core tightly against the growing bulge in his jeans.

You feel shy when you pull away to ask if he wants to go to your bedroom, feeling frozen in place when he stares at you with half lidded eyes, his plump lips swollen and red.

"Tonight, I'm just kissing you." Every cell in his body is screaming in protest at his own words. He can't express how badly he wants to do everything else, to recreate his dreams, to learn the parts of your body he'd never seen before. But he can't imagine doing anything but this tonight, just this; his lips on yours, your breath in his lungs and your body melting into his.

"Why?” your eyebrows pull together in confusion. You practically shiver with need, tucking your arms between your stomachs and burying your nose in his throat. His laugh buzzes against your face, rubbing his hands gently over your shoulders and trying to control his own breathing as your lips brush over his skin.

All he can say is, “Because I’ve been needing to for a long time.”

“How long?” You pull away from his chest, leaning back onto your hands and closing your eyes when he runs his own down your sternum and over your waist, groping at the flesh of your hips and trying not to regret his romantic side.

“Way too long.”

“Your birthday?” you ask, tugging gently at his shirt. He plants his hands outside of your legs to lean in close, one corner of his mouth pulling up.

“Much longer.” Your eyes widen in shock, and he interrupts you before you can question him “can we talk about it later? I have something really important to do tonight.”

———

He tells you that he's had feelings for you since senior year of college, when you kissed Jeno. He tells you about his plan to admit everything when he had seen you on his birthday, but that he was too scared. He assures you he ended his relationship the moment he got back home the previous week “because everyone has felt like a matter of 'when' it will end, not 'if',” He tells you that just two weeks of your silence hurt worse than any previous heartbreak, and you agree. And before you fell asleep next to him he tells you again, ‘I'm so in love with you.’ and shimmies excitedly when you say it back before kissing you until you can barely keep your eyes open. He holds your cheeks in his hands and practically lulls you to sleep with his tongue, plush lips pressing to yours so gently you can hardly feel them dotting around the rest of your face. He thinks he could do this forever before sleep finally catches up with him, his arm slung over your side to hold your face to his chest.

You wake up curled into a familiar side, your first emotion being giddy as the night floods back to you. Despite your obvious willingness to go further, Haechan had meant it when he said he'd only be kissing you. It made you crazy at first, but when the two of you were staring at each other in the mirror with shy eyes while moving through a nighttime routine you had gotten familiar with years before, you were happy he had the self control you clearly lack. The idea of him actually seeing and touching you in ways he never had before, of doing all the things you'd found yourself imagining him doing over the last year; it was overwhelming. Kissing until your jaw was sore and your lips were swollen felt easy.

You’re startled by Haechan’s hand reaching for yours, holding your palm and bringing your fingers to his lips to press a kiss to each one, “good morning.” his voice is deep and tired, mouth landing on the crown of your head.

"Good morning." You press your nose into his chest happily, gripping his hand in yours and resisting the urge to squeal with delight.

"What are you so excited about, me?" He teases, hand falling on your thigh to guide your leg up the front of his, stopping just below his crotch and you hope he's going to give you what you'd been wanting all night, for the last year.

"You, I just can't believe how happy I am." You admit, lifting your head off of his chest to smile at him. He pulls you right back down, kissing your lips once before rolling you both over so he's on top of you. He presses a hand over your collarbone and drags his lips down your chin and over your throat.

"You know, this means you're all mine now." he smirks against your neck when you nod, gasping when he sucks gently at the base. He has one forearm on the mattress, the other hand too gentle on your ribs. You can feel that he's hard and you immediately roll your hips up.

"Does this mean you're gonna do more than just kiss me now?" you intend to sound confident, but it comes out as a whimper. His nose brushes over your jaw before he presses lingering kisses to your chin and cheek.

"Yes, baby, if you'll let me." You nod eagerly, shifting your face so your lips are beneath his and sighing happily when he lowers his weight onto your torso, licking into your mouth. You shiver with anticipation when he pushes at your shirt, long fingers tickling up your side before landing on your breast. You gasp into his mouth when his thumb brushes over your already hard nipple.

Your impatience is overwhelming, grabbing the back of his shirt and tugging it up to his shoulders. He pulls away reluctantly, reaching one hand toward his back and pulling his shirt over his head. You gnaw at your lip, running your hands over his stomach and hooking your knees around his hips as much as you can while stretching your arms over your head.

“Cute.” he murmurs, pulling your shirt up and tossing it to the side. He gropes at your chest, tongue wetting his lips before he leans down to wrap them around one of your nipples. He’s trying to act without thinking, to let the dreams he’s had pave the path down your body because he knows the second he acknowledges his nerves he won’t be able to shake them off. His heart thrums when you gasp above him, arching your chest into his mouth. He’s greedy for your sounds, his hands squeezing your breasts together and licking between them to get to the other nipple. When your hips buck up into his he groans, pulling away from your chest and staring down at you with wondering eyes.

“Can I?” He feels unnaturally shy, leaning back on his calves and watching his fingers press dimples into the flesh of your hips above your underwear, tugging at the hem.

“You don’t need to ask.” He smiles, forcing you to sit by grabbing the back of your neck for a kiss. His fingers press into your clothed core and your hips roll into his hand. He sighs into your mouth at your desperation, torn between teasing you and touching you everywhere.

You can’t keep your legs from shutting around his arm when he pushes your panties to the side and slides his middle and ring finger up your wet center, circling over your clit.

You pull away from the kiss, blinking up at him and your mouth falls open when he presses firmly on your clit, rubbing in slow circles. His head hangs as he lets out a quiet “fuck” at your reaction, moving his hand off your neck to stroke over your stomach and without it behind your head you have to lie back, he presses your legs open. Haechan stares at your chest while he settles between your knees, pushing two fingers inside your dripping core. His jaw hangs open, watching his knuckles disappear inside of you.

“So soft,” he breathes, staring down to where his fingers glisten when he pulls them out to rub over your clit again, palming over his cock getting harder in his sweats “want to be everywhere at once.”

“Want you everywhere.” you whine when his fingers pull away to hook into your underwear, tugging them down your legs. Haechan stands to strip and you hold your breath and soak in the soft swell of his hip that leads to where his cock hangs heavy between his legs. It’s pretty like the rest of him, and thicker than you'd expected with a leaking tip that matches the color of his tongue, he strokes himself once and you don’t get the chance to reach for him before he lays back on the bed, rolling you to sit on top of him. You shudder when your pulsing clit rubs over his stomach, inner thigh squeezing into his ribs. He runs his hands up your waist, scooting you an inch higher and grabbing onto your tits.

“Do you remember a few months ago, when you called me drunk and I told you I was dreaming about hanging out with you?” He shivers when you grind down in response, wet pussy sliding easily over his skin “I lied.”

Your hands press into his chest, tilting your head “what were we doing?” you can barely speak above a whisper when he pinches gently at your nipple with one hand, the other rubbing over your ribs when he smirks up at you.

“You were about a foot higher than you are right now,” you gasp and reach out to grab the headboard when he jolts his hips to move you up his chest, staring down at him with wide eyes as he shifts to wrap his arms under your legs, fingers pressing into your thighs.

“You dreamt about this?” you let him bring your hips to hover over his face, hands falling into his hair when he brushes his nose over your clit as he nods.

“All the time,” he moans and drags you down onto his face, lips wrapping around your clit. You shudder above him, letting some of your weight collapse into your heels and he groans happily at the pressure of you on his chin, pressing you harder onto his mouth to fuck his tongue into you. He wants to devour you, every sound you make goes straight to his cock which is already rock hard at the taste and smell of you. Even just thinking about the fact that it's your hips grinding over his face right now is enough to make him moan into your pussy.

You slur out praise, one of your hands shooting up to grip the headboard. His hands wander gently up your sides, eyes opening to stare up to where he plays with your tits, hard cock pulsing at the sight of your head thrown back, hips moving in gentle circles over his face. Haechan’s hand tugs yours down to his hair, trying to restrain himself from thrusting into the empty air at the feeling of you all over him. He hums happily into your pussy when you start to grind over his mouth, flattening his tongue for you to ride until your legs are shaking.

He lets out a deep “mmhmm” when you warn him that you’re going to cum, suckling hard on your clit until you’re practically begging him to let you go, body crumpling forward with both hands tangled in his hair. He's grateful you didn't touch his cock, just the thought of your fingers wrapped around him is enough to make him cum and he has other plans.

You can’t speak when you collapse onto the mattress beside him, immediately warmed by the weight of his body on top of yours as he slots himself between your thighs, sucking a hickey onto the front of your throat.

“Taste too fucking good,” he hums, mouthing over your chin and cheek “been dreaming of eating your sweet pussy for so long.” you practically swoon when he kisses you, pre-cum wetting the inside of your thigh when he relaxes his stomach onto yours.

“Hyuck, want you in me, please” Your vision is blurry, whining into his swollen lips. He works them over your cheek before pulling away from you, bringing one of your legs up to his shoulder and you rest the other knee on his hip. He can feel himself pant when he taps the head of his cock on your swollen clit, practically drooling when he sticks barely the tip inside before pulling back and repeating the tantalizing motion.

“Been waiting for too long to be teased,” you pout, trying to encourage his hips toward yours with the ankle he’s not pressing his cheek into. He smirks and circles his leaking tip over you again, watching his cock spread your arousal around before he pushes into you a little further.

“I’m taking my time with you, feels so fucking good.” He can’t look away from between your thighs, messy hair hanging over his forehead while his fingers grip your ankle tightly. You whimper when he pulls all the way out again, one more hard tap against your pulsing clit before he pushes himself halfway into your leaking pussy. You rise onto your elbows, trying to reach one hand to grab for his hip but he releases the base of his cock to stop you by lacing your fingers together. When Haechan finally looks into your eyes he bottoms out, stretching your leg toward your chest so he can lean in. His hips stutter, a choked groan rumbling deep in his chest.

“Oh my god, Hyuck please.” you beg him to move with a gasp. His forehead presses to your chin, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Fuck, baby, been needing you," he thrusts into you slowly, lifting his head to look down at you glowing beneath him with your eyes shut. He pulls out all the way before thrusting back inside, quickening his hips when your eyes flutter open, the look on your face enough to make his balls tighten slightly, shutting his eyes to regain self control "knew you'd feel so fucking good."

"M’so full, Haechan." you moan at his words and the rapid slap of his hips on the back of your thighs, forcing your eyes to stay open so you can see his face. The way his nose scrunches with focus when he pulls away from your chest, both his hands wrapping firmly around your hips while he watches his cock sink into you. Brown, shaggy hair sticks to his damp forehead, full lower lip taken between his teeth. He’s pure, unadulterated boyish beauty, and he’s all yours.

You squeak when he lets your leg drop off his shoulder, pressing your thigh as far open as it will go with your heel digging into his backside. He fans his fingers over your lower stomach, thumb reaching down to push your clit side to side and your hips tuck up for more pressure, Haechan moans loudly when the movement causes you to clamp around his cock, "Perfect fucking pussy, can't believe it's mine now. Like my fingers on your pretty clit?”

You nod enthusiastically, letting go of your breasts to hold the backs of your thighs, Haechan's eyes move up your body to stare at your chest move beneath him, nipples looking sweet as candy. He’s dying to sink his fingers into the softest part of your stomach, the way you’re moving for him makes his mind turn to sand. You stare down to where his thumb is making circles over your clit, perfectly timed with the head of his cock bruising your g-spot. You feel a second orgasm build and the corner of his mouth pulls up proudly when your legs shake. Your head hangs back as you gasp for air, "yes, please, Haechan feels so fucking good."

"Make the prettiest noises for me, want you cumming all over my cock." he leans forward just enough to trap your throat beneath the weight of his palms, other hand still moving over your swollen clit. You smile at the pressure of his body on yours, eyes fluttering shut while you moan. You nod desperately when he asks if you can do that, "if you can let me make you feel that good, please, my pretty girl."

He takes his hand off your throat when you cum, wanting to hear every sound you could possibly make. You repeat his name like a blessing that has him cumming with you, moaning and breathless as his hips start to slow, milking you both through your orgasms.

You wrap your arms around him when he pulls out of you, reveling in the feeling of him when he lowers himself down, burrowing his face into your neck and warming your skin with his breath. You hold him there for a minute until he pulls his head up, dopey smile lighting up his eyes and making you laugh.

“What?” you scrunch your nose at him “better than your dreams?”

He nods, “so much better, best I ever had, my body belongs to you now.” he smirks at his own words, but his tone is so gentle he can’t even call it a joke.

“Just your body?” you tease, and he leans his nose onto your lips for a kiss that you carry onto the mole under his eye.

“Body, mind, heart, soul,” he sighs happily when you cup his cheeks in your hands, kissing him gently “all the planets in my head.”

"All the planets in my head too."

————

masterlist

authors note // this ended up being much longer than i anticipated, maybe the longest one shot i’ve ever actually written! i appreciate everyone who voted for happy ending because when i was originally thinking of a sad ending it was too hard lol. this feels forever unfinished because there is so much good to this version of haechan, i adore him.

#haechan #haechan fanfiction #haechan smut #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #nct dream fanfiction #nct dream smut #nct 127 fanfiction #nct 127 smut #nct fanfiction #nct smut

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inaconstantstateofchange · 5 months ago

Text

okay so when reading the final chapter of svsss volume three, the interactions between yue qingyuan and tianlang-jun are so—

Shen Qingqiu wanted to say something when Tianlang-Jun raised his chin, squinting at Yue Qingyuan. “I remember you.” After thinking for a bit, he said with conviction, “Back then, the Huan Hua Palace’s old geezer wanted you to help him with the ambush, but you ignored him. So you’re the current sect leader of Cang Qiong Mountain? Not bad.” “Your distinguished self’s memory is also quite good.” Tianlang-Jun smiled and smiled, then gave a sigh. “If you were also trapped in a pitch-back darkness for over ten years, unable to glimpse the sky or sun, with nothing to pass the days but for reminiscing over past affairs, your memory would be quite good as well.”

tianlang-jun remembered him, and while yes, it's clear he has a pretty good memory and might also be using it as a way to throw his potential enemy off-balance, it is still a very interesting way to go about it. and the rejoinder yue qingyuan sends back at him, perfectly polite - even respectful! - totally unflappable—tell me you do not see the potential there!!

but never fear, if you are not yet convinced, i have more:

Tianlang-Jun continued to sit upon his stone, completely at ease. “I remember that you also waited until the last moment to draw your sword that day,” he said to Yue Qingyuan. “Doing the same now?” Yue Qingyuan didn’t answer.

tianlang-jun remembered a lot about yue qingyuan, even small details like his sword, and the actions he took (or didn't) upon the day of tianlang-jun's betrayal. to me, this reads as though, even then, he took note of yue qingyuan's power as something to look out for. he is also, despite all of the other people around, primarily engaging in conversation with yue qingyuan.

Tianlang-Jun pulled his hand back and smiled. “Honestly, in the beginning I had no malice, nor did I find fun in the idea of the world burning. I only occasionally crossed the border, coming here to sing songs or read books—it was quite nice. However, since I’ve already been in residence beneath Bai Lu Mountain for so many years, if I don’t follow through on something along the lines of your thoughts, I’d truly find my circumstances a bit too unjustified.” Yue Qingyuan flicked his finger. Xuan Su sprang three inches from its sheath, its spiritual energy seething. The bones of Tianlang-Jun’s body cracked and popped, almost like his joints had been dislocated. He made a sound of surprise. “As expected of a sect leader. Not bad. Your master was quite mediocre but had quite the eye for disciples and successors.”

okay first of all, the tension here is remarkable, and second of all, the compliment at the end—tianlang-jun, for the power level we know he possesses, is being practically effusive with his praise of yue qingyuan's strength something we know to be greatly prized by demons.

this segment follows the previous directly, but i had to give it it's own spotlight, for reasons that i hope will be readily apparent:

Then Tianlang-Jun reached out and grabbed Xuan Su’s blade directly, as if he couldn’t feel a thing. “But why not draw it all the way?” he said with a smile. “You can’t do anything to me with only this much.” Yue Qingyuan’s gaze hardened, and Xuan Su jumped another half-inch from its sheath.

tianlang-jun: oho, you'll need more than that much to handle me, big guy

(jokes aside, considering the rampant spiritual energy of xuan su, described as so powerful as to be oppressive in volume 2, and the susceptibility of demons to spiritual energy, tianlang-jun is truly doing the absolute Most™ right now.)

... moving decidedly away from jokes now, this is one of the most pivotal lines for them, in my opinion. it comes at the conclusion of wu chen's reveal of the betrayal-that-wasn't, and how su xiyan chose death over bringing harm to tianlang-jun, only for it to find him regardless:

“It wasn’t that she didn’t care about you, but that she was without alternative. Yet the world is pitiless, and so you passed each other by…” Tianlang-Jun’s lips seemed to tremble slightly. A long moment passed. Then he said, “Is that so?” Right after those three words, he asked again, “Truly?” “This one swears upon his life that his words contain not a single falsehood,” said Master Wu Chen. Tianlang-Jun turned his head to look at Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan. As if seeking confirmation, he asked, “Truly?” He didn’t even care whether someone was in the know; he was just asking anyone he could. Unable to say anything, Yue Qingyuan silently lowered his head. It was unclear what he thought.

it is clear that the tragedy of su xiyan and tianlang-jun was one that yue qingyuan felt keenly, not only for his response here, clearly processing some significant emotion, but also for the way that he used the same words to describe his relationship with shen jiu just a short time later:

“I really…didn’t mean to not return,” said Yue Qingyuan. “Only, it really is true that the world is pitiless, and so the two of us passed each other by…”

pardon me while a cry a new freshwater body into existence.

there is truly so much more that can be said about what makes these two a great fit for each other, especially in a canon-adjacent/post-canon scenario, but i'll save that for another day. for now, i will let these excerpts speak for themselves.

#svsss #meta #my meta #i love them your honor #like truly they are SO complementary AUGH #tianyue #tianlang jun #yue qingyuan #tlj #yqy

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jester-lover · 10 months ago

Note

May I please ask for a Jamil, Leona and Azul with a female reader, where the reader is a secret admirer of them and has been giving them secret little gifts with cheesy love notes throughout the year and has always acted like "That's so corny, why would I ever do such a thing-" if they are ever around hearing about the gifts- just trying to throw them off the trail the whole time because they are too embarrassed to admit they have been crushing on them this whole time- and maybe the receiver of said gifts figuring out who it is one day- thank you!

Secret Admirer

Feat/ Jamil, Leona, Azul

CW/ Female reader, fluff, insecurities, shyness, embarrassment

Jamil

Jamil wholeheartedly thinks someone’s messing with him at first

That is, until the little gifts and notes get more personal

When he starts finding bottles of his favorite hair oil, little compliments about his basketball skills, and pocket-sized bug spray, he knows it’s someone who knows him

At one point, Jamil couldn’t believe someone would care for him, but this mindset was quickly taken over by his desire to lavish the attention this stranger gave him

He feels like he’s in the spotlight; someone cares for him the most, and the thought brings a blush to his cheeks and a flaming desire in his heart to find the person who is giving him these tokens

Jamil almost can’t believe it's been you this whole time, but the surprise washes away into a form of pure delight he hasn’t felt in ages

He most definitely catches you slipping something onto his side table or getting something in the mail that has strikingly similar handwriting to yours

Either way, he quickly tells you he knows, stumbling over his words as he tells you he feels the same way

Jamil finds your immediate denial and slow acceptance of the fact that you’re caught to be a beautiful sight and knows he’ll treasure you above anything else

“I know it’s you…I’m glad I’ve been getting such sweet attention from someone I love just as much…”

Leona

Leona knows from the first letter

While he figured out that you were his secret admirer from day 1, most likely from the fact that the paper smelled just like you, he keeps a facade of stupidity on toy with you

He waves around the little pink notes and gifts almost cartoonishly, chuckling to himself as he watches you stammer on about how cringe-worthy such loud declarations of affection are

He keeps every trinket, letter, and preservable good you get him, keeping it in a box carefully hidden in his dorm

(because God forbid anyone thinks he’s gone soft)

One day, when he knows you're catching on to his knowledge, he presents you with the box and tells you how he knew from the beginning and that he feels the same way about you

“Who knew you could be such a poet, Herbivore? Way better than the other poet I know…”

Azul

You would think he would know too, but he’s deluded himself into thinking you’d never like him back and that it’s one of the twins messing with him

But then, as he thinks about when he’s finding the little charms and notes, he realizes the twins would be working at those times and unable to plant them

Then, he starts thinking about how, whenever he brings up the admirer with you, you immediately start denying or shying away from the topic

(He’s pacing around his office at this point)

Azul most definitely sends out Jade to keep a close eye on you, and when he reports back confirming your role as Azul’s secret admirer, he practically melts

Not only does he plan out how he’ll tell you he knows, he has you presented with a special VIP offer to eat at the lounge

This is, of course, so he can get you alone

Half way through his planned speech, he starts bumbling on about how he can’t believe it and how he’d love to be your partner and take care of you

“O-of course I knew this the entire time! I just didn’t say so because I-I quite enjoyed the attention…”

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foreverisntenough · 17 days ago

Text

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend. You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy?

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Chapter 2 - Bruises | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 10.6k

Trent slumped down next to Noah, running a hand over his hair, his thoughts all over the place. It had been hard enough leaving you upstairs, seeing you so vulnerable, so close. Noah nudged him, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Mate, seriously—what is the deal with you two?” Noah asked, raising an eyebrow. “She’s putty in your hands, and you’re practically breathing down her neck. Thought you’d snap eventually but you just keep dragging it out.” Trent let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back against the couch.

“I don’t even know, mate. I can’t keep this up. Every time I’m around her lately, it feels impossible to just… be her friend.” He shook his head. “But Jack would kill me, you know that.” Noah burst into laughter, shaking his head.

“Trenty, it’s been years of this. You’re acting like this tension is new! This is, hands down, the longest and most intense case of foreplay I’ve ever seen. Even Jack’s gotta know by now.” Noah smirked. Trent rubbed the back of his neck, a guilty grin breaking through.

“Yeah, but it’s different now. She’s… she’s not just Jack’s sister anymore. It’s like she’s looking at me the same way I look at her.” He groaned and then he let out a shaky breath, feeling exposed for the first time. “And tonight—I feel like she’s slipping, no? Just hard to leave her room after all that. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” Noah leaned in, eyes glinting with amusement. “Mateeee.” Trent groaned once more for good measure.

“Bro, you gotta sort this. You can’t go on like this forever.” He clapped Trent on the shoulder. Trent chuckled, a little embarrassed but unable to deny how much he wanted you.

“I know. But I’m just trying to play it smart, you know? I don’t want to hurt her but Jack’s my boy.” Noah raised an eyebrow, laughing harder.

“Play it smart? Just try not to trip over yourself sneaking back upstairs.” He teased. With one last laugh, Trent let himself sink into his thoughts of you, wondering how much longer he could hold himself back.

Another night of drinking to forget came. You knew it wasn’t the healthiest method, but it was maybe the most fun. The club was packed, pulsing with the beat of the music and the energy of people letting loose on a Saturday night. You had dragged Layla along with you to have a fun night out, a chance to unwind and forget about all the stress from the past week. You were in good spirits, laughing and dancing with Layla, letting the music take over. But everything shifted when you spotted him—your sort of ex, a footballer for Manchester United, Josh. If playing for that club wasn’t enough of a reason for you to hate him, he also was just an awful person. He was standing by the bar, surrounded by his friends, looking as arrogant as ever. You tried to ignore him, but it was clear he had seen you too. A smirk tugged at his lips as he pushed through the crowd, heading straight for you.

“YN!” he called out over the music, a mocking tone in his voice. “Long time no see.” You forced a polite smile, not wanting to cause a scene but you knew this was being done to be rude.

“Hey,” you replied shortly, hoping he’d get the hint and move on. But he didn’t.

“What’s the matter? Not happy to see me?” he jeered, leaning in closer than necessary. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, could see the malice in his eyes.

“I’m just here to have a good time with Layla,” you said, trying to keep your tone even. “I’d rather not—” But he cut you off, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that. You were always such a good girl, Y/N. Too good for the likes of me, right? Or maybe you’re just playing hard to get?” He sang in an obnoxious tone. You’d ‘split’ because you didn’t like each other enough. It was sex and that was about it. Josh particularly didn’t like that no matter what, you’d never look at him the way you looked at Trent and so he blamed the split on you. Despite him ending it, it was your wrong doing apparently.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you, yeah? Fuck off.” Layla stepped in, sensing the tension. He sneered at Layla before turning his attention back to you.

“What’s the matter, YN? Still pining after Alexander-Arnold? Aye just get it through that pretty little head, he’s never going to want you.” The words stung, sharper than you expected. You rolled your eyes and he didn’t take kindly to that. Even though you didn’t care for him anymore, his cruelness cut deep. Tears welled up in your eyes despite yourself. Josh had never been the kind to hold back, not even in public. You had seen glimpses of his temper before, but tonight, it felt different—meaner, more deliberate. His words were mocking as his fingers gripped your arm with a force that made your skin sting, and as he leaned in closer, his words grew more venomous. "What, are you going to cry now?" he spat, tightening his hold on you. His grip was firm, biting into your flesh with enough pressure to bruise. You winced, trying to twist free, but he only tightened his grip, his nails digging into your skin. He was holding you close to him, he was angry in a possessive way. You could feel the bruise forming under his touch, a dark mark that would remind you of this night long after it was over. You hated how he could make you feel so small, how he could strip away every ounce of confidence with just a few words and a harsh grip.

“Please just stop,” you snapped, your voice breaking. You tried to yank your arm away again, but he only pulled you closer, his lips curling into a cruel smile. He pulled you away from everyone so it was just the two of you. You felt a wave of shame, not just for the scene he was causing but for yourself—for letting him do this to you, for putting up with it, for not having the strength to push him away once and for all. Layla didn’t know what to do. So often you had said it was fine with him but right now it felt anything but. You didn’t know why you even put up with him, why you had let him into your life at all. He had always been like this—aggressive, dominating, possessive,always needing to control every situation, even when you were out in public. It was as if he thrived on belittling you, on reminding you of every perceived flaw, every mistake you’d made. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“You’ll be nothing without me, know that?” he hissed, his grip tightening painfully. You flinched, the pain radiating up your arm. “You’ll always be nothing.” The tears blurred your vision, and you hated yourself for letting him see you cry. You hated how he still had this power over you, how he could reduce you to this—a sobbing, broken mess in the middle of a crowded club. You hated how he could strip you of your dignity with just a few cruel words and a tight grip on your arm. Somewhere in the haze of your thoughts, you found the strength to pull away. You jerked your arm back with a sudden burst of energy, managing to break free from his grasp. You stumbled back, cradling your bruised arm against your chest, the sting of the fresh bruise radiating through your skin. You looked up at him, your vision blurry with tears, your chest heaving with a mix of anger, hurt, and frustration.

“I’m done. We’re done” you choked out, the words barely more than a whisper. “I get it. Just let it go, okay?” You whimpered. He just laughed, a dark, hollow sound that sent a chill down your spine.

“You’ll be back, babe” he called after you as you tried to leave, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You always come back.” You hated that you had gone back to him before, that you had let yourself get tangled up in his web of anger and possessiveness. The sex had been good—at least, that's what you told yourself. But he had cheated on you more times than you could count, though you were never really sure if it counted as cheating. Your relationship had always been undefined, a messy entanglement of emotions and misunderstandings. He was hypocritical, a storm ready to explode any time he saw you so much as smile at another man. And yet, there you were, always caught in the crossfire of his jealousy and rage. It didn’t matter what he did, his whole goal was to just have complete control over you and Trent threw a wrench in that. He especially hated Trent. It wasn't just because they played for rival clubs, though that was part of it. It was deeper than football. He saw the way your eyes lingered on Trent, the way your face softened when you spoke his name. He knew there was something there, a connection that went beyond friendly banter or casual attraction. Trent was everything he was not—calm, kind, successful in a way that made others admire rather than fear him. And you—God, he could see it—your feelings for Trent were written all over your face, in the way you laughed at his jokes, in the way you always seemed to find yourself at his side. He resented Trent for being everything he wasn’t and for being the object of your affections. You ootd to keep Josh’s behavior hidden from your brother, somehow managing to mask how fucked up it all was. Jack didn't know how deep your ex’s temper ran or how controlling he could be. But if he knew.. If Jack knew or even his friends knew but probably especially Trent knew… all hell would break loose. So you’d learned how to swallow back the stories, pretending that everything was fine.

“Can you just leave me alone,” you managed to say, your voice breaking.

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” He leaned in, his voice a harsh whisper. “Does your brother know you slut yourself out for his best friend? What’s your dad think of that... Being a whore for the boys your brother trusts most… and your mum.. Oh well.. You wouldn’t know what she thinks of her slutty little daughter.” That was the last straw. You hated that you even trusted him enough that he had that bit of information about your life. You felt the tears spill over, and you turned and bolted, pushing your way through the crowd. You needed to get away, to breathe, to clear your head. Your heart was pounding, and your vision blurred with tears. You stumbled trying to get to the back hallway of the club, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Layla had seen enough.

“Fuck you!” Layla screamed rushing over but when she turned to try to follow after you, you were lost in the crowds. Unbeknownst to you, Trent had been at the club too, celebrating with a few of his teammates. He had seen you running, and had noticed the distress on your face. Without a second thought, he followed you, his concern outweighing any questions about why you were there or what had happened. The flashing lights of the club blurred around you, a kaleidoscope of colors that seemed to spin faster with each passing second. The pounding bass reverberated through your chest, matching the erratic beat of your heart. You felt dizzy, your thoughts swirling like the flickering neon signs above. The laughter and shouts of the crowd melted into a distant, muddled hum as your vision began to swim. Tears streaked your cheeks, hot and unchecked, as you stumbled through the throngs of people. The room felt like it was closing in on you, walls shrinking as the faces around you became distorted, like a nightmare you couldn’t escape. Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, each one catching in your throat as you fought the rising tide of panic.

You could barely think straight, your mind a haze of confusion and pain. Everything felt wrong—your body, the people around you, the pounding music that seemed to pulse through your veins. You wanted to escape, to find a place where you could breathe again, but everywhere you turned, there were people, faces, eyes. It was too much, all of it pressing down on you, squeezing your chest until you thought you might break. Your legs felt heavy, your steps unsteady as if the ground were shifting beneath your feet. You pushed through the crowd, desperate for air, for space, for anything but this suffocating chaos. Your tears blurred your vision, and you wiped at her eyes, her hand trembling. Then, through the haze, you felt it—strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. At first, you panicked, thinking it was someone else, another stranger trying to touch you, but then you caught a familiar scent, a mix of cologne and something uniquely comforting.

Trent.

Your body sagged with relief, your knees nearly buckling beneath you as you collapsed against his chest. His arms were solid and warm, encircling you like a protective barrier against the chaos of the club. You felt his hand on the back of your head, gently cradling you as he whispered soothing words you could barely hear over the music. Then for the first time, Trent saw a bruise forming on your arm. His face was a mask of concern, his eyes darkening with anger as he took in the sight of you, your arm marked with the telltale signs of aggression.

"Y/N," he whispered, stepping back before reaching out to gently lift your arm, his touch featherlight but steady. He turned it over, revealing the bruises that had already started to bloom in shades of purple and blue. His jaw clenched, and his grip tightened just enough for you to feel his rage simmering beneath the surface. "Who did this to you?" You tried to pull away, tried to hide the evidence of your shame and pain, but Trent wouldn't let go. It was so obvious it came from someone grubbing you too tight, being too rough in a way no one wanted. His hand held yours firmly, his thumb brushing against your skin as if he could erase the marks with a touch.

"Please," you muttered, your voice breaking, "stop." you weakly begged.

"Y/N…" he insisted, his voice low and steady, but with an edge that made it clear he wasn't going to let this go. "Who…" He snapped demandingly. Your eyes filled with tears as you looked up at him, the weight of everything crashing down on you. Trent's face hardened, his eyes narrowing as he took in you attempting to tell him what just happened but he couldn’t focus on anything but how sad you looked, how broken. He pulled you closer, wrapping you in his arms as if to shield you from the world, from the pain, from everything that had ever hurt you. In that moment, you felt safe for the first time in what seemed like forever. His arms were your refuge, his strength your solace. Trent's blood boiled with a fury he rarely felt, his hands shaking with the need to do something—anything—to make Josh, who he knew it had to have been, pay for what he'd done. But then he saw your tear-streaked face, your lips trembling as you tried to hold back sobs, and all that rage took a back seat. His anger didn't matter right now; you mattered. Your body shuddered with each sob, and Trent felt a pang of helplessness in his chest. He wanted to tell you everything would be alright, that he'd take care of everything. He wanted to promise that no one would ever hurt you again. But he knew that words wouldn’t be enough, not now. So, he just held you tighter, letting you cry into his shirt, his thumb brushing away the tears that spilled down your cheeks. “Hey, hey, hey, you're okay. I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice a low, steady rumble that cut through the noise, anchoring you to the present. You buried your face against his chest, your hands clutching at his shirt as if he were the only thing keeping you from drowning. The tears kept coming, but they were different now—less frantic, more a release of all the tension you had been holding onto. Trent’s embrace was a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge of the abyss you had been teetering on. The world around you seemed to fade, the thumping bass and flashing lights dimming in comparison to the steady, comforting rhythm of Trent’s heartbeat against your ear. You could feel his warmth seeping into you, calming the storm that raged inside you. In his arms, you felt a safety you hadn’t known she needed—a reassurance that, despite everything, you weren’t alone.

“Just breathe for me,” Trent whispered, his voice soft and close to your ear. “I’m here. You’re safe.” You tried to do as he said, taking a shaky breath that caught in your throat. But with him holding you, the air seemed easier to draw in, the panic slowly ebbing away. The tears continued to fall, but now they were softer, quieter, as if his presence was slowly soothing the hurt you felt. For a moment, there was only you—no noise, no crowd, no chaos. Just the steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his embrace. Trent held you tightly, his grip firm yet gentle, his touch grounding you in a way that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright. You stood in there struggling to catch your breath as Trent's arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the faint smell of spilled drinks and cigarette smoke, grounding you in a way that felt comforting and electric all at once. He tightened his hold, his chin resting on the top of your head, and his fingers tracing soothing circles along your back. But even as he tried to comfort you, a battle still raged inside him. Part of him wanted to go find Josh right then and there, to make him pay for every single bruise on your skin, every tear he'd caused. The other part of him—the rational part—knew he needed to stay with you, to keep you safe and calm. And then there was the question he couldn't push away: Should he tell Jack? Jack was his best friend, but Jack was also your brother. He deserved to know that his sister had been hurt, but Trent also knew how fiercely protective Jack was of you. If he told Jack, there’d be no holding him back, and things could spiral out of control. Plus, he wasn't sure if you'd want Jack to know—if you'd want your brother to see you in this vulnerable state.

"I got you," he whispered as his thoughts spiraled, his voice filled with a tenderness you hadn't felt in a long time. "I got you, okay?" You felt something break in that moment-a wall you'd kept up around yourself for so long. And when his lips brushed the top of your head in a soft kiss, something stirred inside you, a longing that had been quietly simmering for years. It felt like an opening. Your heart raced as you pulled back slightly, your gaze finding his, and in the dim light, his eyes softened, a silent understanding passing between you. You hesitated, but then, almost instinctively, you tilted up, pressing your lips to his. It was a tentative kiss at first, a question in every touch of your lips against his. Trent tensed, caught off guard, but he didn't pull away. He wanted this so instead, his hands found your waist, his fingers digging in ever so slightly as he kissed you back, the warmth of his mouth melting away the hurt that had clung to you since your ex's cruel words. The world around you disappeared, leaving just the two of you tangled together, like a fuse that had finally been lit. The kiss grew deeper, hungrier, years of unspoken attraction finally bubbling over. His hands roamed, his grip on you tightening as he leaned into you, pushing you up against the cool brick wall behind you. Every touch, every brush of his lips against yours, felt like it was meant to be, like you'd waited your whole life for this moment. God, he wanted this… but not like this. This was wrong. So then, just as quickly as it started, he pulled back, his breathing heavy as he looked at you with wide eyes, his expression torn between disbelief and something deeper.

"What...Y/N… what are we doing?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, his fingers still lingering on your skin. The conflict in his eyes was clear, and it sent a pang through your chest. But you didn't care about the doubts racing through his mind. You leaned in again, refusing to let go of this feeling. To remind him how very right this wrong was. The kiss was softer this time, gentler, but just as consuming. You poured everything into it—all the years of longing, the quiet, unspoken feelings, the ache you'd felt every time you saw him with someone else. And for a moment, he gave in, his lips moving against yours like he'd been holding back for years. You could feel him wanting more but then, with a deep sigh, he pulled away once more, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to steady his breathing. "Y/ N... we can't. I can't," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I'm sorry. I just..." He muttered. The rejection cut deeper than you expected, the pain raw and immediate. Your eyes burned with fresh tears as you took a shaLay step back, your heart pounding with a mix of heartbreak and anger.

"Fuck you!" you cried, your voice trembling. It felt like the walls you'd let down were crashing back up, each one harder than before. You turned on your heel, ready to escape before he saw you fall apart completely. But he reached out, his hand grazing your arm, as if he couldn't quite let you go. You recoiled, stepping back, your expression a mix of pain and anger.

"Wait," he pleaded softly, but you yanked your arm from his grasp, your heart shattering as you disappeared into the crowd, leaving him behind with the lingering taste of regret on his lips. Trent’s heart ached seeing the tears well up in your eyes again. You turned and ran, pushing your way back through the crowd, your vision blurred with tears. You didn’t care where you were going; you just needed to get away from him, from the humiliation and the heartbreak. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you as you fled, but you didn’t look back. Trent watched you go, his heart sinking into his stomach. He wanted to run after you, to explain, to somehow make it right, but his feet felt like they were glued to the floor. He knew you needed space, needed time to cool off. But as he stood there, the guilt and worry gnawed at him. He had never wanted to hurt you, but in trying to protect you, he feared he had done exactly that. The sounds of the club grew louder around him, but Trent felt miles away, lost in his thoughts. He knew he’d have to find a way to make this right with you, to explain himself, and to make sure you knew how much he cared. But for now, all he could do was watch you disappear into the crowd, your absence leaving a painful ache in his chest. Trent leaned back against the wall, trying to process what had just happened. Some of his teammates who he was out with came over. They were giving him confused looks, clearly curious about the scene they had just witnessed. From their perspective, he had chased after to a a teary-eyed girl, who then kissed him like her life depended on it, and then, just as quickly, pulled away with a broken ‘fuck you.’ They had questions.

“Mate, what was that about?” one of them asked, laughing awkwardly, unsure how to react to the tension still lingering in the air.

“Bro, was that…” Another piled on cautiously, recognizing you. Trent ran his hands over his face, trying to shake off the flood of emotions. He glanced toward the crowd, desperately scanning for you, but you’d disappeared into the sea of people. His chest tightened, and he let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of what just happened settle in. He couldn’t explain it, not to them, not in a way that made any sense.

“Yeah, was Jack’s sister.” He muttered after he took a deep breath, eyes still flicking toward the direction you’d gone. The second those words left his mouth, Trent knew something had shifted inside him. It wasn’t a lie, not really, but it felt bigger than that. It felt like a realization he’d been avoiding for too long. You weren’t just Jack’s sister. You were his everything. And the truth of that hit him like a freight train, leaving him standing there, breathless and rattled.

“Fuck, mate. That’s complicated.” One of his teammates whistled, finally connecting the dots.

“Yeah,” Trent breathed out, his mind racing. It was beyond complicated. Jack was his best friend, and you… you were the girl who had been slowly slipping from childhood crush to something deeper, something dangerous. He shook his head, his thoughts swirling. The way you’d kissed him tonight, the hurt in your eyes, the fire in the way you’d pulled away—it was like everything had boiled over, and Trent had been too slow to catch up. He’d rejected you, not because he didn’t want you, but because he wanted you too much. He couldn’t handle the idea of hurting Jack, of crossing a line that could never be uncrossed. But now, standing there with his teammates still glancing at him for answers, he realized that line had already been blurred for a while. You weren’t just Jack’s sister. You hadn’t been for a long time. And now, Trent wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep pretending otherwise. As the music pulsed around him, Trent felt a shift. He needed to find you, needed to figure out what came next, no matter how messy it got. Because, after tonight, he knew he couldn’t go back to seeing you as just Jack’s little sister. You were more than that. You always had been.

After leaving Trent behind, you had stumbled back into the chaos of the dance floor, your heart pounding and your emotions a tangled mess. You had felt rejected and humiliated, and in a haze of frustration and alcohol, you made a poor decision. You spotted a man at the bar—a tall, handsome stranger who had been eyeing you all night. Without much thought, you walked up to him and struck up a conversation. His flirty smile and eager compliments were a welcome distraction from the pain you felt. When he suggested you leave together far sooner than appropriate, you didn’t hesitate. You just wanted to forget, to numb the ache in your chest caused by Trent's rejection. You told Layla you felt sick and had needed to leave. She knew it was a farce but she also knew she couldn't stop you. She assumed it was just Josh being an ass she had no idea you had just kissed Trent. She called and called to find you; to leave with you but you just texted saying it was all fine. But as the night unfolded and you found yourself in the stranger's bed, you quickly realized how hollow it all felt. The sex was awkward and unfulfilling, a stark contrast to the passion you had imagined when you thought of Trent. You found yourself comparing the man to Trent in every way—his touch, his movements, the way he spoke to you. Every comparison only made you miss Trent more. You knew deep down that Trent would have been different—gentler or maybe rougher but definitely more attentive, more real. Tears stung your eyes as you lay there, regretting your impulsive decision. This was a low. By the time morning came, you left the stranger's place without a word, feeling emptier than before. You hadn’t heard from Trent since that night. Part of you was relieved, thinking it was better this way—less complicated. But another part of you ached for him, for his presence, for the safety you felt in his arms.

You’d stumbled in through your front door just after dawn, your steps heavy and uneven, your head pounding with every movement. Jack was already up, a coffee mug in hand, leaning against the kitchen counter with a lazy grin.

“Rough night?” he joked, his eyes barely glancing up from his phone. “You look like you’ve been through hell.” You tried to muster a response, but all that came out was a soft hum, barely audible over the sound of the coffee machine. Your shoulders slumped as you shuffled over to the fridge, your body moving on autopilot. The sting of tears was still fresh in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall again, not in front of him. Jack finally looked up from his phone, his grin fading when he saw the look on your face. He straightened up, setting his mug down on the counter, his brow furrowing with concern. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, more serious. You just hummed again, the sound weak and empty. You didn’t have the energy to explain, didn’t want to get into it with him. Not now. Not after everything that had happened. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you closely, but you kept your gaze fixed on the floor, avoiding his gaze. Jack took a step closer, his concern growing. “You sure?” he pressed gently, sensing something was wrong. “You don’t look so good.” You just shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak. Your throat felt tight, your chest aching with the effort of holding everything in. You needed to get out of there, away from his questions and his worry. You couldn’t deal with it, not now.

“I’m fine,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely more than a whisper. It was a lie, and you knew he could see right through it, but you didn’t care. You needed to be alone, to let yourself fall apart without an audience. Jack watched you, his expression a mix of confusion and concern, but he didn’t push any further. He just nodded, letting you go. He knew you knew he was there if you needed him.

“Alright,” he said quietly, stepping back. “But if you need anything...” You nodded, not waiting for him to finish. You turned and headed upstairs, your steps heavy and slow. As soon as you reached your room, you closed the door behind you and sank onto your bed, burying your face in your hands as the tears finally came. The weight of the night before crashed down on you, and you couldn’t hold back the sobs that tore through your chest. The shame, the regret, the confusion—it was all too much. You’d thought you could handle it, thought you could keep it together, but now, alone in your room, it all felt too heavy to bear. You cried until there were no tears left, your body shaking with the force of your sobs. And when you finally stopped, when the tears finally ran dry, you were left with nothing but the hollow ache in your chest and the haunting memory of Trent’s rejection.

You were absolutely mortified. You had kissed Trent. How could you have done something so reckless? You laid there, staring blankly at the ceiling on Layla’s bed at her place, your mind racing in sheer panic. Every nerve in your body felt on edge, replaying that moment over and over. What was worse was that it never happened before, not even close, but something had come over you—like instinct taking over reason—and now you regretted it. Layla shifted beside you, sensing your turmoil.

“Come on, it won’t that bad,” she said in an attempt to soften the blow. You groaned, rolling onto your side to face her.

“No, Lays. I can never, ever see him again.” The words came out in a rush, your voice cracking under the weight of your embarrassment. She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

“That’s not true.” She told you. You sat up, hugging your knees to your chest, your breath shaking.

“It is! I crossed the line. And he… rejected me.” The last part was barely a whisper, like speaking it aloud made the sting of it even worse. You felt your face grow hot, the emotions swelling until they spilled over. The rejection was unbearable, and before you knew it, tears slipped down your cheeks. You tried to laugh it off, wiping at your face. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired,” you said, your voice wavering between a sob and a chuckle. Layla immediately wrapped you in her arms, pulling you close.

“No, it’s not just tiredness,” she murmured into your hair, holding you tightly. “This sucks. The boy you like just said no. That’s a lot to handle, but we move.” You stayed in her embrace, taking in her warmth, but her words only made your heart ache more.

“I’m not even sure if I just like him,” you admitted, voice small and hollow as you pulled away slightly to look at her. Layla’s face twisted in confusion.

“What?” she asked, blinking, and then a knowing look crossed her face as she softened. “Oh no. Babe…” You swallowed hard, blinking back more tears.

“I mean, I do… but it’s more complicated than that. It’s not just like.” The weight of the word hung in the air between you both, unspoken but understood.

“You love him,” Layla said quietly with a frown she couldn’t control, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “But maybe right now, the feeling of love is for your friend.” She paused, her eyes full of sympathy. “You don’t need to hurt yourself imagining anything more, okay? Not right now.” You bit your lip and nodded, the tears still threatening to spill over. You were exhausted, heartbroken, confused. You knew you loved Trent as Jack's best friend, as a friend of your own but you had never had an intimate relationship to say you loved him any deeper than that. The thought of those feelings right now though were making you sick.

“But what if I can’t face him? What if it’s too awkward?” Layla shook her head and gave you a reassuring squeeze.

“You’ll bounce back. Trent’s nice. He’s not going to make fun of you for this or make it weird. You two have been friends for too long for that.” But deep down, you couldn’t shake the sting of rejection. Maybe Layla was right—Trent wouldn’t make fun of you, but things weren’t the same anymore. Not after this.

When Jack invited Trent along with all the other boys over for a movie night a few days later, Trent was hesitant. He knew you might be home, and he wasn’t sure how you’d feel seeing him. But Jack was his best friend, and Trent figured maybe it was time to face the music. As Trent walked up to Jack’s front door, his nerves were on edge. He took a deep breath and knocked, his mind racing with what he might say if you were there. The door swung open, and Jack greeted him with a grin, pulling him into a quick hug.

“All good, mate?” Jack said, stepping aside to let Trent in. But Trent only hummed. He managed a smile, following Jack inside. He glanced around the living room, half-expecting to see you curled up on the couch. But the room was empty. “Y/N’s out,” Jack said casually, noticing Trent’s quick survey of the room. “I think she’s been a bit off lately. Haven’t seen much of her.” Trent nodded, trying to hide his relief that you weren’t home but sadness Jack noticed things were off..

“Yeah, I haven’t seen her either,” he replied, his voice steady despite the churn in his stomach. Jack grabbed a bottle of water and handed one to Trent.

“She seemed pretty fucked up when she came back from a night out but didn’t tell me much, though.” Trent took a long sip of his water, not sure how to respond. Jack and Trent were sitting in silence on their phones only best friends could sit in whilst waiting in the kitchen for the other boys to show up. Trent kept glancing toward the hallway, waiting for the moment you would come home. He wanted to see you, to talk to you, to somehow make things right. But as the minutes ticked by and there was no sign of you, a sense of unease settled in his chest. The sound of a key turning in the front door caught Trent’s attention. He tensed, his heart quickening as he heard the door open and close. A few seconds later, you appeared strutting through the house, your face mildly flushed from the summer heat outside. You froze when you saw Trent sitting there, your expression shifting from surprise to something unreadable.

“Hey,” you said quietly, your voice tight.

“Hey,” Trent replied, his eyes locked on you. Jack, sensing the tension, cleared his throat.

“Hey, Y/N. Weird vibe but erm.. Lads are watching Shawshank tonight. Want to join?” He asked, trying to lessen whatever awkwardness just flooded the room. You shook your head, avoiding Trent’s gaze.

“No, thanks. I’m just going to head to my room.” Jack looked between the two of you, frowning slightly.

“You sure? You haven’t been out here much lately.” He cooed gently.

“I’m sure,” you smiled sympathetically at your older brother. You appreciated him caring but this was far from something he could help with. You turned and disappeared down the hallway without another word. Trent watched you go, the weight of your unfinished business hanging heavy in the air. He knew he needed to talk to you, to explain himself, but he wasn’t sure if you’d even listen. For now, all he could do was sit and wait, hoping for a chance to make things right.

You had spent the last few days trying to keep yourself busy, but no matter what you did, you couldn’t get Trent out of your mind. Trent, on the other hand, was torn between worry and respect for your space. He had tried to find you that night at the club, but it was like you had vanished into thin air. He didn’t want to push you, especially after how things had ended between you. Still, the thought of your hurt and alone gnawed at him. Trent thought about that kiss everyday and how much withstraint he was having to practice. He wanted to rip your clothes off, he had to stop his hands' magnetic pull to grab your ass. It was a typical movie night—Jack had all the boys over for another film. They’d yell through the whole thing and gossip in a way they’d claim only girls did. You knew the drill by now, but tonight felt different. You hadn’t seen Trent since that moment, the kiss that had turned everything upside down. You tried to ignore how awkward things were between you and trent but you were dying of thirst and you weren’t sure if dying of embarrassment of dehydration would be worse, You settled on dehydration so you moved quickly through the house, attempting to avoid where all the boys were, but Trent wasn’t going to let it go. He heard you try to sneak into the kitchen.

“Y/N,” he called out quietly, coming into the room behind you and taking a few steps toward you. You froze, your back to him, the tension thick in the air. You could hear Jack in the cinema complaining about something, completely oblivious you’d hoped. You weren’t ready for this, not now, not when your emotions were so raw.

“Please, I don’t want to talk to you,” you said firmly, your voice low, trying to keep the emotion out of it.

“Y/N, come on… just give me a minute,” he persisted, his voice filled with a quiet plea.You whipped around, eyes already welling up.

“Trent, I really don’t want to talk to you,” you snapped, trying to hold your composure. “Frankly, I’m having a hard time even just seeing you right now, so please,” you begged, your voice cracking under the weight of it all. You could feel your chest tightening, the tears threatening to spill. His face softened, but he didn’t move.

“I just want to talk. Please,” he said, sounding desperate now, like he was grasping at straws. But you couldn’t do this. Not here. Not with Jack just a few rooms away. You shook your head, blinking back tears, but one escaped anyway.

“I don’t want to talk,” you choked out, your voice shaLay, as the tears began to build along your lash line. Trent stood there, helpless. His hands flexed at his sides like he didn’t know what to do, caught between wanting to comfort you and knowing that he couldn’t—not here, not now. You could see the frustration and guilt etched on his face, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t have the energy to deal with this.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice laced with regret. But you just shook your head again and walked out of the room, leaving him standing there, stuck in the mess that neither of you had any idea how to clean up. And the worst part was, Jack was still there—completely unaware of the storm brewing between you two, his heart left open to wounded arguably as much as yours if you couldn’t sort this.

Trent thought about that drunk, tearful kiss at the club every single day. It replayed in his mind over and over, the taste of it, the way your lips had trembled against his, the way your hands had gripped onto him like he was the only thing anchoring you. He hadn't even expected it—had been caught off guard by how much he wanted it too. But then, the reality had hit him hard. The restraint he had to practice afterward felt like torture. It felt like trying to fight a g force the way his hands moved on your body. He wanted to rip your clothes off that night, to give in to the magnetic pull that constantly drew him to you. But he couldn't. Not like that. Not when you were drunk and emotional. Not when it could ruin everything. Now, the moment haunted him, and he was stuck in the limbo of not knowing what to do next. What if you regretted it? What if that kiss had meant something completely different to you than it did to him? And what scared him the most-what kept him up at night-was the realization that he didn't just want the kiss. He wanted more than that. He wanted you in a way that wasn't just about desire or physical attraction. He wanted to be the one who made you smile, who you leaned on, who you could trust with all the messy bits of life. But what if he'd already blown his chance? What if that kiss had been the beginning of the end rather than the start of something more?

This tension carried on for days. Neither you or Trent making any further attempts at sorting it. Trent sat at a restaurant with Jack and Noah one night, completely lost in his own thoughts. His fork hovered above his plate, food untouched, as he stared blankly at the table. Jack, noticing how quiet he’d been, shot Noah a look. They’d been trying to get him to open up all night, but nothing was working.

“Mate, seriously, what’s going on?” Jack finally asked, setting down his drink. “You’ve barely said two words.”

“Yeah, you’ve been in your own head all night. Go on.” Noah chimed in. Trent talked nonstop all the time so this was very out of character and it’d been going on for over a week. Trent shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn’t sure if this was something he should even bring up, especially not with Jack sitting right there. But the weight of what happened between him and you had been pressing down on him for days, and he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore. He ran a hand over his hair, debating how to word it without setting off alarm bells.

“Have you ever…” he began slowly, his voice low, “turned down a girl and then immediately regretted it?” He sheepishly asked his eyes, flicking to both boys trying to gauge their responses.

“Nah, mate. If I turn her down, it’s for a reason.” Noah, always the confident one, scoffed.

“Yeah, once or twice. Why?” But Jack, ever the romantic, leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful nod. Trent’s eyes flickered between them, his stomach churning as he chose his next words carefully. He had to be vague, had to make sure Jack wouldn’t catch on.

“There’s this girl…” he started. He hesitated, feeling the weight of his own words. “She kissed me, but she was drunk, so I pushed her away. Now she’s pissed, and she won’t talk to me.” Trent hesitantly explained. Trent wasn’t normally shy talking about women so this whole thing was very confusing for his friends.

“So why did you turn her down if you’re this worked up about it?” Noah’s brow furrowed.

“Because she was drunk!” Trent said, frustration lacing his voice. He looked down at the table, unable to meet their eyes. “I didn’t want it to be like that.” Jack shrugged, clearly puzzled.

“That’s more than valid, mate. If she was drunk, you did the right thing. Why wouldn’t she understand that?” Trent groaned inwardly, knowing he couldn’t explain the real reason behind his frustration without giving too much away. The truth was, he didn’t want just a drunken kiss. He wanted more than that—something real, something that wasn’t just swept under the rug as a mistake.

“It’s complicated,” he muttered, his voice trailing off. Noah, always the one to push for action, smirked.

“Next time you see her, just go for it. Easy.” He looked at Trent like he had solved his issue no problem. Trent couldn’t help but laugh at the simplicity of Noah’s solution. If only it were that easy. He wasn’t just dealing with any girl—this was you, Jack’s sister. It wasn’t something he could just ‘go for’ without thinking about the consequences. Jack, who had been listening quietly, leaned forward with a more serious expression.

“Mate, just talk to her. Tell her you actually care about her and that you want it to be something she remembers, not something that happened when she was drunk. Simple as.” Trent’s heart sank. Jack had unknowingly hit the nail on the head. That’s exactly what he wanted to say to you, but how could he? How could he tell you that he cared about you—really cared about you—when Jack was right there, completely unaware of the storm brewing between the two of you? He tried to keep his expression neutral as Jack gave advice, but guilt gnawed at him. He was about to take his best mate’s advice and use it to get closer to his little sister. The irony wasn’t lost on him, and it made his stomach twist. But he couldn’t keep running from the situation. He had to talk to you, had to tell you how he felt before it drove him insane. Noah, oblivious to the deeper layers of the situation, laughed and gave Trent a light punch on the arm.

“Yeah, man. What’s the worst that could happen? You talk, she listens, and you two figure it out, I imagine she’s leng.. Get her in bed. Done.” Noah quipped and Trent’s guilt worsened. He forced a chuckle, but his mind was already elsewhere. What was the worst that could happen? Jack could find out. He could lose his best friend. You could reject him, or worse—tell him that kiss was nothing more than a drunken mistake. The thought made his chest tighten. But Noah’s lightheartedness didn’t calm Trent’s nerves. Jack’s advice, however, echoed in his mind—talk to her, tell her how you feel. Trent knew it was the right move, but the fear of rejection, of ruining everything, loomed over him like a dark cloud. As they finished dinner and paid the bill, Trent’s thoughts were already on what was coming next. He was heading to your house after this. You’d be there. Jack would be there. And somehow, amidst it all, he had to figure out how to have that conversation. As they walked to the cars, Jack patted Trent on the back.

“You’ll be alright, mate. Just don’t overthink it.” Trent forced a smile, but his mind was racing. He couldn’t shake the anxiety bubbling inside him. Jack’s words rang in his ears, and he knew he had to take the advice, but how? As Trent drove to your house, the weight of everything pressed down on him. He was about to walk into a house where everything could change in a matter of minutes. He wanted more than a kiss, more than just a fleeting moment—but what if you didn’t? What if that kiss had meant nothing to you? You only said you didn’t want to see him… were you just mad. He couldn’t tell. Pulling into the driveway, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. He had to talk to you. He had to try, even if it scared him to death

Trent awkwardly made his way into the living room, his heart pounding as he spotted you already seated on the couch, a blanket wrapped around you. You looked adorable and it made him sadder. You were curled up in the corner, your eyes glued to the TV, but he could tell from the stiffness in your posture that you were aware of his presence. The soft glow from the screen cast a flickering light over your face, highlighting the tension in your jaw and the way your lips were pressed into a thin line. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should sit down. But with a deep breath, he took a seat next to you, careful to leave a respectful gap between you. The silence between you was thick, almost tangible, and he could feel the awkwardness settling over you like a heavy blanket.

“Hey,” he said softly, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. You barely acknowledged him, giving a short nod without looking away from the TV.

“Hey,” you replied curtly, your tone clipped. Trent’s heart sank a little at your cold reception. Never in his life had you greeted him like this and it was starting to eat at him but he couldn’t blame you. He knew he’d hurt you that night, and he was ready to face the consequences. He could imagine what he would feel like if you said no to him. Still, the distance between you now felt like a chasm, one he was desperate to cross. He kept his eyes on the screen, pretending to be engrossed in the show, but he was acutely aware of every small movement you made—the way you shifted slightly, the soft sound of your breath, the way your fingers fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. He wanted to say something, anything to bridge the gap, but the words seemed stuck in his throat. Minutes passed in silence, the tension between you unyielding. Trent’s mind raced with what he could say or do to make things right. He didn’t want to push you, didn’t want to overstep, but he also didn’t want to let this moment slip away without trying. Finally, gathering his courage, he reached out and gently placed his hand on your leg, just above your knee. It was a tentative touch, his fingers light and hesitant, but it was enough to make you stiffen slightly under his hand. You glanced down at his hand, then up at him, your eyes wide with surprise.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “I didn’t mean to upset you that night.” He cooed gently. Your gaze remained on his hand for a moment longer before you sighed, your shoulders relaxing a fraction.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “For… trying to kiss you. I was drunk and— Clearly that’s not something you want and I get that…” You earnestly and awkwardly were trying to apologize but Trent couldn’t help but chuckle softly, interrupting you.

“You honestly think I didn’t want to kiss you back?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. He kept his eyes on the TV, a coy smile tugging at his lips. “Trust me, Y/N, it took everything in me to stop.” You looked at him, a flicker of confusion mixed with curiosity in your eyes.

“Then why did you?” you asked, your voice softer now, almost vulnerable. Trent’s smile faded slightly as he turned to meet your gaze.

“Because you were upset and not in a good place. I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you, especially after what that asshole did to you.” You flinched at the mention of Josh, the hurt from his cruel words still fresh in your mind. You looked away, your eyes downcast.

“He… he said some awful things. It wasn’t great,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Trent’s grip on you tightened just a fraction, his touch becoming more reassuring. You sat there, your heart pounding as Trent's words hung in the air. He'd never spoken to you like that-direct, unfiltered, like he'd been holding back for too long. The way he placed his hand on your thigh, his fingers pressing just enough to make you aware of every inch of contact, sent a spark straight through you. Your mind raced to keep up, to make sense of what was happening, but he was already pushing forward, his tone low, serious, like he needed you to understand.

"That kid's a fucking idiot for losing you," he said, his voice tight, almost angry. "Saying whatever he could to make you feel small... he doesn't know shit about you, and you know that. Right?" You nodded slowly, words caught in your throat. It was true-you did know, somewhere deep down. But hearing it from Trent felt different, grounding, and it made the sting of your ex's words fade, bit by bit. Trent's hand stayed warm on your thigh, a quiet promise in the small gesture. You glanced up at him, your eyes searching his face. You could see the sincerity in his expression, the way his brow furrowed slightly with concern.

“You really think that?” You asked quietly, your voice tinged with disbelief. Trent nodded, a small, earnest smile playing on his lips.

“I know that. You’re smart, occasionally funny,” he teased with a glint in his eyes and your lips curled, “you’re the sweetest girl I know, and—” he hesitated for a moment, his cheeks flushing slightly, “—gorgeous. You’re fucking gorgeous. Anyone who can’t see that is a fucking donut.” He kept his eyes on the TV, trying to play it cool, trying to be nonchalant in case anyone else happened to come into the room but he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He risked a quick glance at you and saw a soft smile slowly spreading across your face. The sight of it made his own heart lighten, the tension between you beginning to ease.

"Trent.." you started, wanting to say something, anything, but he shook his head slightly, a glimmer of intensity in his eyes.

"You're beautiful," he interrupted, each word sounding heavier than the last. It was like he'd been carrying them around, waiting for the right moment to let them out. You felt your cheeks flush, a mix of nerves and thrill rushing through you as his gaze stayed locked on yours. He leaned closer, lowering his voice so it’d be impossible for anyone else to hear, his hand firm on your thigh. "And just so you know... that's not the way you get bruises. Never again. I'll fucking kill him if he ever comes near you." His eyes were dark, protective in a way that felt both comforting and incredibly dangerous. Then, in the midst of the tension, he smirked, the intensity softening into something else, something teasing. "The only bruises you ever get are from not being bored in the bedroom. Yeah?” Your breath caught, your face flushing as his words registered. You recalled telling when you split with Josh citing boredom in the bedroom as a problem but you were surprised he remembered that. Surprised he just said that to you. Before you could respond, he gave you a wink, that same smirk lingering as he stood up and walked away, leaving you stunned, heart racing, and desperate for him to come back.

You laid in your bed later that night, staring up at the ceiling, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts about Trent. You could hear the low rumble of laughter drifting up from downstairs where Jack, Trent, and their friends were still hanging out. But your thoughts were miles away, lost in memories of Trent and all the moments you’d shared over the years. You closed your eyes and let the images flood your mind. The way he’d smile at you from across a room, a mischievous glint in his eyes, or the way he always seemed to find a reason to touch you—a hand on your shoulder, a playful nudge, his arm brushing against yours when they sat close. You thought about all the times he’d said sweet things to you, little compliments and comments that you’d always brushed off as friendly banter. You tried your entire life not to take the pet name ‘pretty girl’ too seriously, you always thought maybe he said that to every girl but now it felt personal and just for you. Was he talking about bruises in the bedroom in a sexual way, yeah 100% but did he mean that he would give them to you? Leave love bites on you? Your mind was racing. But, lying there in the dark, you couldn’t help but wonder if there had been more to it. Your heart fluttered as you recalled the feel of his hand on your leg earlier tonight, the warmth of his touch and the firm yet gentle way he’d reassured you. You shivered, a pleasant tingle running through you as you thought of all the times his hands had been on you, even in the most innocent of ways. His touch always left a lingering warmth, a sensation that seemed to seep under your skin and settle deep within you, leaving you longing for more. You bit your lip, a wave of desire washing over you. In your longing haze, you wondered if maybe you’d been missing something all along. Had Trent been flirting with you all these years, in his subtle, teasing way but in all seriousness, did he want something? Was there something real to your relationship that you hadn’t let yourself see? Was it more than teasing? The thought sent a thrill through you, a mixture of excitement and nervous anticipation. Your fingers itched to reach for your phone, and before you could second-guess yourself, you grabbed it from your bedside table. You couldn’t shake what he said to you, Trent had made it clear-it wasn't that he wasn't interested. Now, you were ready to take the risk, fully aware that all the boys were together. It was dangerous, maybe even reckless, but that only made it more exhilarating. They were watching a movie in the cinema room, the lights dimmed, everyone absorbed in whatever action scene was playing on the screen. You were upstairs in bed, restless and buzzing with anticipation. You flipped your phone camera to 0.5 to catch yourself at a high angle, tits prominently displayed in your thin bralette, the flash making your nipples obviously visible. You typed out a message, your fingers moving faster than your brain could catch up.

"Is this the appropriate place to get those bruises you were talking about?"

You pressed send, heart pounding in your chest. The silence afterward was deafening as you waited for a response. It was insane you just did this, but you couldn't back out now. A part of you wished you could retract it but there it was… ‘read.’ Trent opened the message, his heart skipping a beat. He blinked, unsure if he'd seen it right, unsure if you had actually sent it. This was the first time you'd ever texted him directly. Sure, you'd always been in the group chats-always flirty in your usual playful way-but nothing like this. The last personal message you'd sent was your order for a takeaway months ago, and before that, it had been something for your birthday and then passport details for a trip that seemed forever ago. A trip you weren’t sure why you were invited on to begin with but it was one where you'd teetered on the edge of something more with him but never quite tipped over. Now you had pushed things over that fragile edge with a stupid text. There was a reason for the limited texts though, because you knew it’d lead to something just like this. Trent swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the image, the words beneath it repeating in his head. He couldn't let the boys see this but he also didn’t want to look away. He couldn’t… but he had to.

Quickly, he swiped out of the message, his phone burning hot in his hand. He shoved the phone into his lap, screen down, and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the visual of you barely in that bralette. He felt a slow, stupid grin spread across his face despite his best efforts. His heart was racing, and he could feel the tension building inside him. He knew things were spiraling. He'd always told himself this was a line he couldn't cross, but now? Now, it felt inevitable. Trent moved, his thumb hovered over his phone. He dimmed the screen, adjusted his seat in the chair, trying to play it cool making sure the other boys were none the wiser. His mind was racing, wondering if this was you really finally putting your hat in the ring. And god, if it was... there was no way he could say no. Now, all that was left was his response. Trent took his time responding, trying to be as calculated as possible. You stared at the screen, your breath catching in your throat as you waited for his response. The dots appeared then disappeared only to reappear, showing he was typing back, and your heart leaped into your throat. What was he going to say? Had you gone too far? You felt a rush of adrenaline mixed with a hint of fear. But underneath it all was a simmering excitement you couldn’t deny. You could practically feel the tension building in the air around you. Finally, your phone buzzed with a new message, and you hesitated before opening it, your pulse racing…

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Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 3 - Crossed A Few Lines xx

#trent alexander arnold #Trent Alexander Arnold x reader #alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #taa x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader #fie fic #Movie Night Fic

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scarletts-scribbles · 10 months ago

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Spice Up Your Life

⁀➷ Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

⁀➷ Notes: Just a small idea I thought could be really cute :) If anyone has requests/ideas please send em over!

⁀➷ Summary: Natasha admits to you that she never really learnt how to cook, luckily you're more than happy to teach her.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Natasha knew you were cooking from the moment she’d gotten home. The smell of oil and fresh vegetables hung in the air, wrapping her in a sweet aroma, as she hung up her coat Nathan couldn’t help but smile to herself as she made out your low humming coming from the kitchen. A slow happy tune gracing your lips.

She loved coming home to you cooking. Not only was it something you enjoyed but you always made something delicious for her and she was always beyond grateful.

Truth be told, she was a little jealous of your culinary skills. Sometimes the redhead would just linger at the kitchen door, leaning on the wooden frame whilst she watched you effortlessly guide a knife to chop ingredients or she’d come to your side and help you plate your meals. It was somewhat enchanting to her to see you in your element.

Tonight was no different. Natasha finished taking off her coat and slid off her boats, placing them on the small rack by the front door before making her way to the kitchen.

She couldn't resist the urge to sneak up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder. "What's on the menu tonight?" she inquired, her voice filled with genuine curiosity.

“Well let’s see, I’ve got some fresh peppers from the market and we’ve got those left over noodles.” You explained as you continued to dice up a garlic glove, “I was thinking maybe a stir-fry, how does that sound?”

“Stir-fry sounds amazing.” She smiled and planted a soft kiss on your cheek and peered over at the ingredients. Nat pursed her lips for a moment before stepping back to admire how you navigated the kitchen so easily.

“So.” Natasha began but paused for a moment, causing you to stop and look back at her. She seemed to be blushing a little, her cheeks a darker red, “How do you know how to prepare everything so well? You do it so easily, I’ve never been able to do anything like this.” She mumbled quietly, her gaze not quite meeting your eyes. It was something you’d learnt that she did when she was embarrassed, “I never learnt how…”

You chuckled softly, turning to face Natasha, "Well, it's just something I picked up over the years. Trial and error, you know?" You noticed her hesitancy and added, "But if you want, I'd be more than happy to teach you some tricks?”

Natasha smiled widely, unable to stop the corners of her lips curling up, her eyes seemingly sparkled with excitement. “You’d do that?”

You turned to face her, surprised but amused. "Of course darling, it's never too late to start learning. How about you help me finish making this? I'll teach you the ropes as we go.” You smiled, washing off your knife before offering it out to her.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. "Are you sure you want to risk it? I might burn the kitchen down."

“Well it’s lucky that I live with a very strong Avenger who can elegantly carry me to safety, isn’t it?”

Natasha muffled a giggle, shaking her head a little as she kissed your cheek. You returned the gesture softly before guiding her towards the cutting board, you handed Natasha an orange pepper. "Here, hold the pepper like this, and let's start with a simple chop." Your hands gently covered hers, guiding her hands gently with the knife, slicing through the vegetable as you demonstrated, “See? You've got this."

As Natasha started to chop the pepper with your guidance, she couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. "I might not be as smooth as you, but I’ve love to cook for you sometime - only once I get a little better of course, wouldn’t want to poison you.”

You chuckled, nudging her playfully with your hips, “I think I’d love that Natty.” With a wink, you handed her a pan, showing her how to heat it up and explaining the order of ingredients and how to know when each one was ready. It didn’t take long to explain your seasonings either, she was so eager to take it all on. “We could make this a regular thing if you’d like? Start making meals together from now on?”

Natasha's eyes lit up with excitement. "I'd like that very much," she replied, a genuine warmth in her voice. As you both continued to cook together, the kitchen filled with laughter and the sizzling sounds of the oil. It was the beginning of a new tradition, where the joy of cooking intertwined with the joy of being together and you couldn’t be more proud of the progress she’d made.

✧･ﾟ: *

〚 Masterlist! 〛 ೃ༄ 〚Join My Taglist! 〛

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x gn!reader #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort #fanfiction #marvel #black widow

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sabbathbloodysabbeth · 5 months ago

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AHHHH I’ve been rereading some of my past posts (they were created for me and god am I happy I created them) but they have also put this thought into my head.

What if Omega Steve is the only one able to carry Eddie out because he has been doing everything in his power to not be seen as “just another weak omega” on his free time. Working out, purposely preparing for this moment. He needs to be useful. He needs to be needed. And these needs all stem back from his lack of physical and emotional intimacy. He does have some with Robin, and Robin only but Robin is a beta and doesn’t know how to handle an omega so Steve just doesn’t act like one of those Omegas even though it’s in his nature.

Now he can’t deny all of his nature, he does tend to act “motherly” and protective of those he loves and does other smaller things that aren’t that noticeable. In summary, Steve has and most likely will always be in control. (Which is fine but it’s a rare trait in omegas)

But what if in this universe you don’t find out your second gender until you were closer to eighteen. The youngest being sixteen but that was more rare than anything. Which means in season one neither Nancy, Steve or Jonathan are presenting. Along with this, it’s a well known fact that chaotic situations before presenting is a bad thing as it can affect how your omega/beta/alpha is for the rest of your life. (Basically if they are going to be feral, protective, closed of, or any other traits but to a higher extreme that can lead to complications)

So the younger kids are safe as they are no where near presenting but Steve, Jonathan and Nancy are all in the danger zone. All of them are being actively watched at all times by doctors that were assigned to them. (They each get their own) and when the time comes they all start presenting.

First Nancy, she presents as an Alpha (which was effected by the stressful situation, the doctors did the probability check and testing and she was supposed to be a beta) but other than that she is completely fine and an average alpha considering the circumstances.

Then there is Jonathan. It doesn’t take him long but he presents as a beta. And he’s also completely fine considering the circumstances. Besides having a bad anxiety disorder he’s good.

And finally Steve. Steve who is extremely late with presenting. He doesn’t present until after the events of season three. The doctors think it may have had to do with the unknown drugs that were forced into his system.

Steve’s omega is definetly fucked up, and similarly to that of Nancy Steve was supposed to be an alpha. But in the chaos and trauma his secondary gender switched completely but still holds some “alpha traits”. And he is now always on watch just in case. Along with this he can’t have any heats, which means he’s essentially unable to have children.

Time skip back to him struggling in the upside down. Robin can’t carry Eddie, she’s so tiny and can barely hold herself up. Nancy possibly could but she looked just as exhausted, her own Alpha overwhelmed with how much charge she had to take. And poor Dustin is sobbing, Steve doesn’t think he has much choice. And before any of them can stop him he lifts Eddie (who is an alpha) up and carry’s him out. All of them are shocked, and slightly alarmed as something triggers and Steve’s omega has finally done what the doctors said it would. It goes feral.

It takes a couple of doctors but he’s safely detained while he heals and his omega pretty much takes over completely. The doctors describe it as a form of coma, where the main person (Steve) has been forced to go to “sleep” for a while by his omega as a form of protecting him from anymore trauma. And with the amount of trauma he’s gone through they predict he won’t ever wake up.

But thanks to Steve, Eddie is still alive. Sacrificing himself in the process. Both him and Eddie are in comas and after a year when Eddie wakes up time starts to move again.

Eddie gets taken care of and the doctors come to him after a month of being awake (without telling anyone else) to see if he could test something for them. And by test they mean they want them to go into the same room as Steve’s omega and see if that helps trigger him back awake.

The first session (this goes on for numerous sessions) they see a flicker of Steve return to himself but bla bla bla summary of what I’m trying to come back to is that Eddie and Steve have numerous sessions together where Eddie’s alpha helps Steve’s omega out.

Teaches him how to nest, gives him more physical intimacy that an omega needs (except a heat of course) and starts to bond with Steve who is slowly coming back to each day Eddie comes. It gets to the point where Eddie has to move from his room to Steve’s to stay with him full time while they both heal because his Alpha has bonded with Steve’s omega.

I feel as if I’ve rambled enough but this was an idea I had!

#steddie #stranger things #omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #strangerthings #steve stranger things #eddie and steve #robin buckley #wip wednesday #they are traumitized your honor #ahhh

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yenqa · 11 months ago

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angel

synopsis — sunghoon can’t seem to figure out if you’re human or an angel.

warnings — sunghoon is a lil tipsy but sobers up quickly (also idk how tipsy people act so sorry), mentions of drinking, reader is called pretty and has a purse

pairing — sunghoon x (implied) fem!reader

wordcount — 1197

a/n — happy late bday sunghoon! hope he had the best birthday ever

inspired by the song “angel” by keshi! also not proofread sorry

Sunghoon wasn’t having the greatest birthday of all time. After 21 years of his life he decides he likes this one the least.

It’s weird, he was supposed to be drunk and having fun at Jake’s apartment until the clock hit ungodly hours of the day, but instead it’s 9pm, and he’s more tipsy than he would like to be at a random bench in a park.

It’s not like he was kicked out or anything, but Jake’s apartment had become too stuffy for him and the smell of alcohol overwhelmed him and they had invited way too many people for his liking, so he decided it was best to go on a walk alone. He had no idea how or why he was now sitting on the bench.

Sunghoon has always been a people watcher, he enjoyed seeing others smile over news he had no idea about, or watching someone quickly walk to their destination, creating make-believe stories of where they’re going and why they’re going so fast.

There’s not many people around—scratch that, Sunghoon can’t spot anyone, but his vision is too disoriented to be trusted.

That’s when his eye catches you, strolling down the stone pathway—Wait were those angel wings?

His eyes squint towards you, unable to differentiate if you were wearing a scarf or were an actual angel from heaven, but he saw the grin on your face and figured you could easily pass for one.

You happily plop down on the other side of the bench, eyes scanning the scenery around you.

This immediately sobers him up, and he fixes his posture. Glancing over to him, you give him a smile, asking “What are you doing here so late at night?”

He’s unable to comprehend that you’re talking to him, as if the alcohol had come rushing back to his head and made him unable to think or even say anything to pretty people like you.

He finally finds his voice, replying, “It’s my birthday, and I’ve been out with my friends all day, but I needed some space for a little.”

Gasping at the mention of his birthday, you rummage through your purse, also saying “Why didn’t you say so! I don’t have a gift for you.”

He chuckled, shaking his hands, “You don’t have to give me a gift, we don’t even know each other's name yet, angel girl.” Looking up, you can feel warmth fill your cheeks at the name, quickly snapping out of it to search for something you can do.

“My name’s Y/n, what’s your name, birthday boy?”

Letting out an Ah-hah! You showcase a small lighter proudly in your hands, he mumbles your name to himself a couple of times, forcing it to go to his sober mind so he remembers everything.

You push the lighter, letting a flame fill the metal part, scooting next to him, you gesture for him to blow the fire out.

He smiles, blowing it out in one go, you clap your hands singing the words happy birthday over and over again. Maybe this birthday isn’t so bad.

“Sunghoon.”

“What?” You tilt your head slightly.

“My name, it’s Sunghoon.”

Nodding, you place the match carefully into your bag, “Well, Sunghoon, how does it feel to be—wait how old are you?”

You silently pray that you aren’t talking to anyone over the age of 24, crossing your fingers in your pocket and anxiously wait for his reply.

“I’m 21 today, got my first sip of alcohol!” He jokes.

Mentally letting out a sigh of relief, you make sure he isn’t left curious, “I’m 20! But anyways—how does it feel to be officially 21?”

He takes a breath, unsure where to start.

The truth is he’s terrified of growing old, having more responsibilities than he could ever imagine. Every year he’s inching closer to a time where he’s supposed to be successful, but all he feels is that he’s failed to do anything.

“Can I say something kind of personal?” Sunghoon decides it’s much better to be safe than sorry.

You nod, a soft smile grows on your face, “Tell me anything! I’m here to listen.”

“I feel kind of scared? I don’t think I’m ready for those kinds of responsibilities.”

Feeling bold, you gently take one of his hands, cupping it with your hands. His cold hands contrasts your warms ones, but you don’t mind.

“I think you’re underestimating yourself, Sunghoon. As you grow older—yes you’ll have more responsibilities but it’ll join your routine, then when you find that you have lots of responsibilities you’ll be so used to it that you won’t even notice a thing!”

He nods, taking in your advice word by word, “I guess I never really thought of it that way, thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.”

You hum in reply, and a wave of silence washes over you two.

Turning your face up, you relish at the sight of the sky. Though the city won’t ever let the stars shine, you can still admire the moon, glimmering in the dark sky.

It's almost a full moon, and you swear you’ve never seen a sight prettier.

“The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” You ask.

Sunghoon’s eyes widen slightly, but you don’t look over at him. He’s not sure that you understand the true meaning of it, considering you just met. So he brushed it off, agreeing with your question.

Though it’s hard to focus on the moon when there's a person right next to him, emulating a warm aura that he can’t help but mistake for something mystical.

You two sit in silence, both admiring the surreal sight ahead of you.

You finally look back at him, warmth filling your cheeks when you catch that he wasn’t even facing the moon the whole time. Looking away, he raises a hand to cover his face, you giggle, looking away just as flustered as him.

A sound of your cell phone rings through your ears, you begrudgingly pick it up, muttering an apology to him before answering the call. He doesn’t eavesdrop but he can tell it’s something important.

He’s proven right when you put the phone down, a frown on your face when you explain, “I gotta go—I’m so sorry! My sister needs urgent help with something, but have an amazing birthday Sunghoon.” You wave goodbye standing up and taking a few steps away.

He grabs your arm before you can go, turning you around so you’ll face him.

“Will I ever see you again?”

You chuckle, opening your bag to pull out a pen and an old napkin. Writing your number, you hand the napkin to him, leaving with the same grin that you had when he first spotted you.

He watches as you walk away, calling back your—what he assumes—sister to address the situation. He slouches back down when you’re out of view, checking the time he’s realized he’s been out for too long, so he races back to Jake’s house.

Walking back in he spots Jake, the boy hastily walks over to him, asking “Bro—where were you? We were looking for you.”

Sunghoon lets out five words, “I just met an angel.”

perm taglist — @jwnghyuns @ja4hyvn @trsrina @redm4ri-deactivated20231209 @badmuni @yeokii @enhastolemyheart @softpia @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @boyfhee @hanniluvi @teddywonss

yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.

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angel-eyes05 · 1 year ago

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a spider in the snow

pairing: fem!reader x miguel o’hara

summary: you help rehabilitate an injured miguel after he returns from one of his late night patrols…in more ways than one

warnings: nsfw, fluff then smut then fluff, handjob (both m and f recieving), blood mention, an incy wincy tincy bit of angst

word count: 2.5k

notes: heyyyyy i've come back from the dead. i don't really write a lot of one shots so go easy on me for this one. just like every horny person on the internet, i’ve fallen head over heels in love with miguel o’hara. this is me giving into my impulses lmao. sorry if i do anything thats out of character idk him that well so just work with me here. i also don't know everything about nueva york and if names are different than here or something so im just gonna pretend they’re the same. if they are, great! if not, just go with it lmao. one more thing, despite being cuban i am a no sabo kid (rip me) so i had to use a translator for some of this so apologies in advance if some things aren't super accurate. ok lets get on with the show.

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Snowy nights in Nueva York have always been one of your favorite parts about moving up north. Seeing all the lit up buildings illuminated in the snow, all the people ice skating in Rockefeller Center rink just below your apartment window, the reminders of Christmas coming soon. It kept your heart warm against the freezing temperatures outside. You also loved the feeling of being able to bundle yourself up in blankets and hoodies, a mix of yours and your boyfriend’s, having an excuse to make hot chocolate, and finally being able to use the fireplace that normally laid dormant in the middle of your living room. The one con about the snow was when it would land on Miguel’s patrol nights. Your already nervous mind was only heightened by the added uncertainty of everything that could happen while he was out there. What if he got too cold while out there and it affected his ability to fight? What if it started snowing too hard and he wouldn’t be able to find his way back to the apartment? You knew some of your concerns were probably dumb, but they felt serious to you.

This was one of those nights. One of the nights where you would sit on your couch, next to the cracked window, unable to sleep until you could see him come back safe. You flipped through the channels of the tv aimlessly, trying to find something to keep your mind off of the growing cold outside. You eventually turn it off after coming across the weather channel, claiming a snowstorm would be rolling into the city in about 15 minutes. Deciding there was nothing you could do about your situation, you walked over to your bedroom and wrapped yourself in your massive duvet to shield from the cold. Worries dashed around your mind about everything that could happen. Despite being verbally supportive about Miguel and his…hobbies, you really hated the idea of him sneaking out in basically pajamas almost every night to “beat up the bad guys” essentially. Even though he had explained everything to you by this point, having been dating for about three years now, you still couldn’t quite understand everything. Radioactive spiders? Corrupt businesses? Fangs and claws? Mutations? A multiverse? It was a lot to wrap your head around. But, despite all of this, all of your worries and concerns over Miguel, you stayed. Because you knew you didn’t start dating him because of his whole superhero business or whatever. You were dating him because you loved him. The real him. The way he would always press gentle kisses into the crook of your neck. How on his days off, you would be woken up to the smell of eggs and bacon cooking in the kitchen just for you. How he would always whisper sweet praises to you while you would give him head. How easily he could be crumbled down beneath his rock hard exterior. The Miguel underneath the red and blue spandex. You dreamt of this as you slowly fell into a calm slumber. You fell asleep bundled up in all the blankets on your bed, arm outstretched to the opposite side the bed, almost as if you were reaching for something that wasn’t there.

After some time had passed, you’re not sure exactly how much, you were awoken by a thud coming from your bathroom. You lazily rubbed your eyes and grabbed your alarm clock to check the time. 3:47 am. Yeah, that’s definitely Miguel in there. You dragged yourself out of bed to help him out, throwing one of this hoodies over your tank top for extra warmth. You also liked how it still smelled like him after three times in the wash. You opened the door, eyes squinting from the bright fluorescent light. And there he was. You found it endearing. How Miguel was trying, and failing, to reach this massive scratch on his back to clean it instead of just waking you up to ask for your help. You look to the floor to find a bottle of hydrogen peroxide sitting there on the rug, probably what caused the thudding sound. You stood there leaning in the doorframe, waiting for him to notice you, even though he probably already heard every step you’ve taken from the bed up to the door now. “You need any help there?” you ask him, jokingly. You had seen him in much worse conditions, so you took moments like these to be more comedic, an attempt to lighten his mood sort of. It didn’t usually work. “No, I got it. Please go back to sleep,” he said, still attempting to wrap his arms around himself. You rolled your eyes and walked over to sit behind him, picking up the hydrogen peroxide off the floor and grabbing a couple of cotton balls from the first aid basket. “Mi amor, please go back to sleep, I promise I can do this by myself,” he argued. Before he could get another word in, you poured some of the hydrogen peroxide over his wound. He groaned in response and squeezed your thigh to help level out the pain. “That’s for worrying me all night,” you said to him, just over the volume of a whisper. As you began to dab the blood off of his cut, he responded. “You know I don’t want you to worry.” Once you could see he was turning his head around to look at you, you turned your eyes away. You didn’t really want to look at him right now. It’s not that you were mad at him. Ok that’s a lie, you were a little mad. But it was more of a helplessness you felt when you would see him like this. Beat up, cut, scratched, bruised. And there wasn’t anything you could do to help. Not until after at least. And it wasn’t like you were a trained nurse or anything. You dreaded the day that he would come stumbling through the window, too injured for you to take care of yourself. Or worse. The day he wouldn’t come home at all. “Yeah, well that doesn’t mean I don’t,” you said sort of coldly. You stood up from your position, waiting to patch up his back until after he showered. You changed your positions to sit from behind him to in front, ready to take care of his front side now. “I don’t want to talk about that right now tho-.” You cut yourself off when you finally saw his face

Cuts were scattered across his face, one above his eyebrow still dripping blood catching your attention first. He also had a bruise quickly forming on his left cheekbone. Once you moved your eyes more, you saw his nose marked with a deep cut going through the middle. His beautiful nose. It was one of your favorite parts of his appearance. Done scanning his face, your eyes moved down to his chest and his torso. His chest was marked with similar cuts to the one on his back. You kept your eyes on his chest in an attempt to hide the fact you were holding back tears right now. “I’m sorry mi cariño. I really am.” You knew he was. But sorry wasn’t going to keep him safe. This was one apology among many. It didn’t really matter. He wasn’t sorry for getting hurt again and again and again. He was sorry for the fact you had to see him like this. If you wouldn’t have seen that he was injured, he wouldn’t have said anything And you knew after this apology as well, he would go out tomorrow night and do the same thing over again. You didn’t respond to his words. All you could manage to do was pull him into an embrace and apologize when he winced from your hands hitting his cuts. You sat there for a bit, running your hands through his hair and trying to hold yourself back from crying. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck and planted gentle kisses there, each a little apology from him. Once you finally pulled away and wiped your face, you started to clean the scrapes on his face, this time more gentle than his back. You dabbed the cotton ball on his forehead as he held you straddled on his lap. He admired your features as you concentrated on him, rubbing your back with his fingers in the process. You didn’t say much, only a simple “sorry” if you were a little too rough with cleaning. Despite the stern face you were putting on, Miguel knew you secretly liked the way he would grab at your thighs and hips with his claws when you did something that hurt.

Once you were finished, you silently put the first aid equipment away and left the bathroom so he could take a shower. He planted a soft kiss into your forehead before you left the room. Once you crawled back into bed, you sighed to yourself. How did you end up here anyways? There’s no way you were expecting all of this when you first saw Miguel at the concert bar that day. Some days were amazing with him. Others were much harder. And while you’ve definitely had worse days with him, today was leaning on the latter option. You contemplated all of this until you heard the door to the bathroom behind you open, Miguel stepping out of the steaming room with his towel wrapped around his lower body. You were very quickly reminded of one of the reasons you’ve stayed with him for so long. The way his wet curls were laying around his head. How his chest glistened while it was damp, despite currently being tattered with cuts at the current moment. He sleepily shuffled over to the bed, dropping his towel before crawling up close to you in bed. The warmth of Miguel’s freshly showered body against yours helped to melt the majority of your worries away. It also helped that you could feel his his cock getting harder against your leg while he cuddled against you. You finally turned around to face him, cupping his jaw in your hand and rubbing your thumb across his face. He grasped your hand and pressed soft kisses into it. “I love you so much Miggy,” you finally said, breaking the silence and drawing his eyes towards you. “I really do, and I’m sorry if I ever make it seem like I don’t. You just…you scare me sometimes.” You quickly realize those weren’t the words you meant. You begin to stutter and take back your words a bit, until you see that Miguel has given you his full attention. You take a deep breath and continue. “You don’t scare me. It’s more of what you do that scares me. I never know when you’re gonna come back or if you even are. If you think I take joy in taking care of you after you come back, I really don’t. I hate seeing my boy like this. And it makes me scared that one day you’re gonna come back in a shape I can’t fix. It scares me so bad Miggy you don’t even know,” you say, choking back your tears. Once Miguel notices you’re about to start crying, he wraps his arms around you immediately. “Shhh it’s ok preciosa,” he comforts as you quietly cry into his broad shoulders. “I’m so sorry for making you worry,” he says in between kissing the top of your head. “I promise I’ll make it up to you, and I love you too.”

You pull away from his hug and stare into his beautiful crimson eyes as he wipes away your tears. You suddenly fall into the overwhelming urge to kiss him. He returns the kiss with even more passion than you put into it. You quickly found yourself exploring his body with your hands, moans escaping his lips whenever you would graze over one of his wounds. You drew yourself closer to him to absorb more of his body heat, though you were quickly reminded of his bare cock as you could feel it hardening on your leg. Your hands eventually made it down there, teasing Miguel along the way as you felt him up on the way down. You then took his hard, already wet cock into your hands, caressing every ridge you could find on it. You could hear more moans exit his mouth and slide into yours as you handled him like putty. He would let out messier sounds, even a growl at one point, and jerk forward into your hand when you would tease around his tip. “F-fuck baby. Y-you’re s-so good to me. ‘N pr-retty too,” he would blurb out Feeling his cock get increasingly hard in your hand began to make you slightly wet as well. This only increased as Miguel began to take off your underwear as well, sliding two of his fingers into your pussy and placing his thumb to draw circles onto your clit. Your grip on his length becomes lazy and sloppy as you’re stimulated as well. You’re surprised at how quickly Miguel is able to find your clit, but then again you expect him to know your body so well after three years. After both of you have been at it for a while, you’re the first one to get close to your orgasm. “Fuck M-Miggy, I-I’m gonna cum,” you manage to moan out. His kisses on you get sloppy as he reaches his as well. It’s over for you once he begins to put more pressure onto your core. You let out an inhuman noise as your stomach fills with the white heat of your orgasm, shaking your entire body. Miguel takes his fingers out of your entrance and licks your cum off of his fingers. It’s then over for him when you eventually put the pressure of your fingers onto his cock. You hand is then covered in his cum once he reaches his climax in your fist, moaning intensely into the air. While he’s in the middle of his orgasm, his claws pop out of his fingers and into your hips and underneath your thigh where his hands are placed. Then, he lets out his fangs and uses them to leave hickeys into your neck, making sure not to let out any of his poison while doing so. “Just stay here with me Miggy,” you sigh out, his fangs deep into your neck. “You don’t ever need to go back out there again. Just stay here with me forever.” He simply nods at first, still sucking into your neck. Once he lets go and and begins to calm down, he responds with “Forever and always mi corazón,” whispering the words into your ear as he lays more kisses along your collarbone and neck.

You stare outside the window at the falling snow, hoping this time he’ll keep his word, but knowing deep down that he wasn’t going to. But for now, you could just appreciate your time with him now. He was all yours right now. Everything. And that was enough.

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A/N: uhhhh sorry but i didn't feel like proofreading this cause its super late for me rn sorry not sorry lmao

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #x reader #smut #marvel smut #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderverse

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causenessus · 4 months ago

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love notes

part 0.8. IF YOU'RE WILLING TO LISTEN

"home and i know, it's always different. i'm the one in love."

from genesis by grimes, left at osaka university, osaka

she’s slipping her phone into her pocket right as she sees them approaching. she smiles, waving excitedly towards both of them. omi is a few strides behind him but she sees them both return the gesture.

“sorry we’re late,” suna says as they both approach, paper bags in hand. “we got held up buying you these.”

her breath catches in her throat when he pulls out a bundle of tulips wrapped in parchment paper from the bag and she gives him a hug in thanks, trying not to linger or overthink the contact. “don’t worry about it at all, we just opened like eight minutes ago so you guys aren’t late, and this totally makes up for it anyway. thank you so much, suna– rin.��

he smiles when she corrects herself. omi steps forward and reveals his own bouquet which she receives with thanks and hugs him as well, “congratulations. it looks like everything turned out well. how do you feel about it?”

there had been some portfolios she’d slaved over and still not been happy with the end result no matter what anyone told her, and he had been there in high school, staying awake late into the night, listening to her rant about it. “i like this one. a lot,” she answered truthfully. “and i hope you do, too. thank you for asking and coming tonight, omi! you’ve been my number one supporter since high school.”

she can see his smile through his mask and smiles just as wide when he ruffled her hair. “thank you for letting me support you. i’m glad i’ve been here since day one. you deserve this–all of this. remember me when you get famous.”

she laughs at his words, repositioning the flowers in her arms, “i should be saying that to you! you’re the upcoming professional volleyball player here.” he only scoffs at her, trying to keep humble but there’s no denying it. “i’m gonna put these flowers somewhere safe. in the meantime, you guys can wander around if you want. everything’s on the wall and kenma and akaashi’s exhibits are to the left if you want to check them out as well!”

omi nods and walks off and suna gives her another look before following after him. she's giving them time to look at her art before she comes back. she wants them to interpret the photos themselves, without anyone looking over their shoulders, telling them how to feel.

but this is suna’s first exhibit, and she can’t blame him for looking a little lost. all of her shows last year had lined up with days he had games and he’d been unable to come to any of them. he had always apologized for it but it never bothered her. if anything, she felt a little nervous now, letting him see such a raw side of her through her photos.

but at the same time, she didn’t really mind when it came to him. they had had intimate conversations before; he had even spent the end of last year with her when she was all alone at her apartment. he had assured her that he wouldn’t think any differently of her no matter what he saw, and she hoped that was true. she hoped that even if he saw the worst parts of her, he would still stick around.

she placed the flowers by her bag at a table she was sharing with akaashi and kenma. they had all dumped their things there to claim it as their own and had relaxed there for a little bit before the gallery had opened. akaashi was there now as well, screwing off the lid of a bottle.

“how’s it going?” she asked, making sure the flowers were stable and wouldn’t fall off the table.

“good,” he responded simply. “more people than i expected showed up, to be honest. but they seem to be liking everything a lot. is it going well for you?”

“of course they like everything! anyone who says they don’t like your work is lying,” she laughed and looked up at him. he only smiled and shook his head in response. “it’s been good for me, too. suna and omi just got here so they’ll probably come visit you soon.”

“good to know. i’m sure i’ll see sakusa, but not so much suna,” akaashi says, putting down his bottle.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” she raises her brows, unsure of what to make of his statement.

“he only came for you, i’d be surprised if he even left your side tonight,” he answers with a teasing grin.

she sighs, her face reflexively warming at the thought, “oh please. he’s still your guys’ friend too. i’m sure he’ll come by. and it’s not like he’s gonna stay for the whole three hours.”

“you’d be surprised what a person would do for someone they love,” akaashi says and then shrugs when she looks up at him in shock, as if he’s just said something completely normal. “didn’t you tell me you used to make him food for basically every game you went to for him? didn’t you take pictures for inarizaki just to be around him? well now he’s all the way here in the arts building to see you and i have to get back to my stand. bokuto’s waiting for me. i’m sure suna’s waiting for you, too.”

he leaves her after that, and she’s left staring at the flowers suna brought her. she can’t get akaashi’s words out of her head, and her heart won’t calm down. she tries to take a breath before walking back to her wall.

she sees omi just as she returns, and he gives her a nod, which roughly translates to he’ll talk to her later, but he glances back at suna and she knows he’s purposefully leaving them alone.

she comes up from behind, moving to stand beside him and follows his eyes to see the picture he’s looking at. it’s her favorite one of the bunch, the one she had posted last on her twitter, saving the best for last. she hadn’t even taken it recently, it was a picture from nearly a year ago that she had been saving for the right time. “what do you think?” she asks with a playful smile. “this is your first time seeing this side of my photography, right?”

he turns to face her, but his eyes stay staring at the photo for a second longer as if he can’t look away. “it’s stunning. i mean– i feel like i don’t even know what’s right to say, sorry,” he breaks eye contact with her to look down towards the floor and her laugh brings his attention back to her.

“you don’t have to apologize for complimenting me. there’s no right way to say it, but hearing those words from you means a lot. thank you, suna,” she tells him, trying to keep her tone friendly. if he wanted to question her words, he could, but she wasn’t brave enough to outright tell him anything.

“rin,” he corrects. when she looks at him, frowning in confusion, he clarifies, “you called me suna.”

“oh, right. sorry,” she apologizes sheepishly, and it’s her turn to look away. it feels too intimate to call him the name and it nearly gets caught in her throat everytime, but he keeps urging her to call him it and she doesn’t know what to make of that. “any questions you have about any of the pieces? you know how i am, i can go on for hours about anything photography related.”

he turns back to the work she initially found him looking at, “no. i mean, i think all of your pictures were great, and the titles really hit. isn’t finding a meaning for yourself part of the fun? haven’t you said that before?” she nods at his question, mumbling a small thank you. “i think if anything, i’m just confused by this one. it’s– it’s us. we took this picture together. last year. but you said the theme of this group is ‘home’ so it’s the only one i can’t figure out. how is this home?”

“oh,” she says, her mouth working faster than her mind. “that’s easy, well i guess for me–” even when he turns to look back at her, sharp yellow eyes looking into her own, it doesn’t stop her from saying the next few words. “it’s here because to me, you are home. all of the other pictures are mainly centered around childhood homes but the night we took that picture is when i really realized i had found a new home. a new place to belong.”

when he doesn’t respond, the realization of what she just said kicks in and she breaks eye contact, her stomach turning as she plays with her fingers nervously. “oh god– sorry. that probably sounded really weird. i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or be sappy–”

“y/n,” he cuts her off, the knuckles of one of his fingers under her chin gently guiding her face up back to look at him before he seems to realize what he’s doing and drops his hand back to the side of his hip. “it wasn't sappy. i just didn’t expect you to say that,” he explains with a small smile, and this time she can’t look away. she feels like she’s only being pulled in farther to him. “can i ask you about the other pictures, too? i just want to know how you see them.”

“of course, i mean– if you’re willing to listen. just tell me to stop if you get bored,” she already feels like she’s rambling and she hasn’t even started talking. finally, she tears away her eyes to look at her own photos, deciding on which one to talk about first.

but he's still looking at her. there's nowhere else he wants to look; even in front of her own work, nothing is more beautiful than her.

“i’m willing. i’ll listen to all of it.”

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

suna thought it'd be funny when he was buying flowers with omi to be like "oh man these are kind of expensive and i'm broke. you think you can pay for mine too?"

omi just looked at him asking, "is she not worth everything to you? is she not worth the money to buy flowers for?"

suna immediately dropped the joke

NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE A SORT OF FLASHBACK ! i'll make that clear there as well but just so we're all on the same page <3

one more chapter of slight hurt/comfort and then we're silly again!!!

kenma continued to have a stare off with a girl across from him and would get all snarky whenever someone came to his display and not hers LMAO

hopefully the images i chose for y/n's exhibit are okay :) i had a theme going for them and they feel a little mismatched but to me every single one of them is important

omi hung out with akaashi and bokuto and then kenma before leaving. he texted y/n later about his thoughts and how well she did but he left to give suna and y/n time to themselves :)

suna stayed with her until closing

she didn't even realize how fast time was going. a lot of other people came to look at her pictures as well and many stayed to listen while she was explaining her thoughts behind each photo to suna

a lot of things went unsaid that night. suna wanted to say he felt the same way after y/n explained the picture of them together but thought that was too much

thank u guys as always for reading <3

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#suna rintarou #suna rintaro #rintarou suna #suna #sunarin #suna x reader #suna smau #suna x reader smau #haiykuu smau #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq #hq x reader

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shadowdaddies · 1 year ago

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Hi!! I adore your writing! I would love if you wrote a story with Azriel, where reader (mated with Az ) hears the IC talking about someone being clingy/annoying, and she thinks it’s her, so she withdraws herself entirely, even from Az and he finally finds out and explains they were talking about someone else, and then fluff. Love you!

hi! thank you for the request, love you!💜 (Madja stans if you're out there, maybe avoid this one)

Family

Azriel x Reader (ft. the IC and Valkyries)

You had only been mated to Azriel for about six months now, but the way that the Inner Circle had accepted you as part of the family immediately meant the world to you. You had struggled much of your life with friends and family making you feel like you were clingy, or a burden when you spent ‘too much’ time with them, so being able to be around your new family in Velaris was a breath of fresh air, lifting a weight off your chest for the first time in years.

Skipping down the stairs to join your family for dinner, you heard them from where they were already seated at the table. You froze in your tracks when you heard the words spill from Feyre’s mouth. “I know, she can be quite overbearing. It was tiresome when I had to see her so much before. I’m glad I’ve had a break from her visits, at least for the time being.”

Tears sprang to your eyes as everyone around the table laughed at the comment, Nesta adding to the insult. “Well, I have no way of avoiding her, at least for now.” It felt as though your heart was caving in, completely crushed by Nesta’s words in particular. You had enjoyed starting training with the Valkyries lately, and you thought of the other females as your friends.

Unable to hear anymore of their jokes, you covered your ears, running back upstairs to your room and locking the door behind you. Not a moment later, Azriel knocked on the door. “My love, is everything alright?”

Sniffling through your silent cries, you refused to be any more of a burden than you apparently were. “I’m fine, Az. I’m just not feeling well, so I thought I would go to bed early.”

There was a long silence before you heard a soft sigh through the door. “Okay. I’ll bring you some leftovers. Please let me know if you need anything from me, angel.”

Once you knew Azriel was back downstairs, you let the tears out. Yet again, you were unwanted, and it hurt that much worse to know that your mate was sitting at that table as well. If he didn’t defend you, he must feel the same way. After crying out every tear you could produce, you found yourself exhausted, sleep claiming you quickly.

You awoke the next morning to a pounding on your door, a nervous Nesta on the other side. “Hey, are you in there? We missed you at training today. I had some things I was hoping to talk to you about.”

You scoffed internally at her claims, knowing exactly how untrue they were after her words last night. Managing to produce a fake cough, you responded in a weak voice. “I’m just not feeling well. I’m sleeping but maybe we can talk later.”

The sorrow was palpable in Nesta’s tone. “Okay then. I hope you feel better. Please let me know if I can do anything for you,” she said softly, before walking away.

Unable to be around these people any longer, you put on a coat and headed out for a walk along the Sidra, the fresh air helping to clear your spiraling thoughts. None of it made sense - they seemed so truly happy to spend time with you, so why would your family say those things?

Just as you started to question everything, shadows swirled in front of you, your mate appearing with concern clear in his hazel eyes. “Love, what is going on? First you skipped dinner last night, and now Nesta tells me you missed out on Valkyrie training as well. Talk to me.”

Filled with anger, you couldn’t push down your emotions any longer. “I heard you all talking at dinner last night, Azriel!”

Your mate staggered backwards, raw confusion written across his face. “Love, what are you talking about? What about dinner?”

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed at his attempt of evading the conversation, which earned you a rare seething glare from the shadowsinger. “I heard Feyre and Nesta, and all of you laughing. They were talking about how overbearing and tiresome I am, and how Nesta ‘has to spend time’ with me now. And you - you didn’t stand up for me, Azriel.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you watched his reaction to your words. The confusion, and the realization. Instead of apologizing, Azriel just sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between scarred fingers. You were about to fly into another fit of rage when he spoke. “We weren’t talking about you. With Nesta’s new pregnancy, she is having to see Madja for check-ups often. Even though she has the hips to birth an Illyrian baby, Madja has been very concerned and it’s been driving Nesta crazy. Feyre was talking about the same, with her pregnancy with Nyx.”

Immediately, you were filled with shame over your assumptions. Burying your head in your hands, the self-loathing came rushing into you with a renewed force. “I’m so sorry, Az. I should’ve known better than to assume - I’m just so used to feeling like a burden and I thought...”

Azriel stepped forward, wrapping one arm around your waist as the other came to cup your chin, moving your hands away so that he could see your face. “I understand, my love. I know what you feel. But we are your family, and you are not a burden. You are so loved, and I need you to feel comfortable talking to me about these things.”

You nodded, a soft smile of relief gracing your features as you leaned forward to give Azriel a gentle kiss. He wrapped you in both of his arms, his warm embrace filling you with immediate calm. He pulled back, the smirk on his lips highlighting the dimples that you loved. “You should speak to Nesta.”

You nodded, knowing he was right, and the two of you walked back home hand in hand, enjoying the sunset over the Sidra. When you arrived home, Nesta was waiting in the kitchen, concern etched on her face as she noticed your still-puffy eyes. “Hey, Nes,” you said weakly, and Azriel gave a kiss to your temple before leaving the room.

Nesta stood up, walking over to you with a purpose as she wrapped you in a hug. “I don’t know what you’re going through, but I hope you know that I am here for you, if you ever want to talk.” You nodded, taking a deep breath as you hugged your friend. After a long moment, Nesta pulled back, a smile on her face. “I did need to talk to you about something this morning - if now is a good time.”

You eagerly nodded, encouraging her to continue as you took a seat next to her at the kitchen table. The beautiful female rested a hand on her stomach, absentmindedly rubbing where her baby rested as she spoke. “Madja wants me to rest from now through the rest of the pregnancy. The girls really love and respect you, so I was hoping that you could take over training them in the meantime.”

Your heart swelled at her kind words, the affirmation that you needed in that moment. Diving forward, you brought Nesta in for another hug as you nodded, tears lining your eyes yet again. “Yes, Nesta. I’d be so honored to help with training. Thank you.”

You pulled back, your friend taking your hand in hers as she gave it a reassuring squeeze, just as Rhys and Feyre walked in with Nyx. The little boy ran up to you, “Auntie! I missed you at dinner last night. Uncle Az said your tummy hurt. That happens to me, too.” You laughed at the sweet child, lifting him into your arms for a hug as you followed Rhys, Feyre, and Nesta into the dining room.

Taking your seat next to Azriel, Rhys poured the wine for everyone - Nesta raising her glass as she proposed a toast to you, one of the new leaders of the Valkyries and a great addition to the family. Leaning into Azriel’s side, you smiled as you looked around at your family - thankful for this unparalleled love, love so great, love that you deserved.

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bravo4iscool · 1 year ago

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return (simon “ghost” riley x fem!reader)

fluff, colleagues to lovers (?), singlemom!reader, soft!simon, dad!simon (?), happy (open) end, protective!simon

„You taught him how to do that?“ you asked, your voice on an edge. You didn‘t know if his name really was Simon but everything pointed in that direction. „Did you teach my son how to break noses?“ your voice rose but Ghost stayed calm. „I asked you something! Did you teach him that?“ You were trembling, almost unable to control your anger.

Ghost looked at you and tilted his head. „Yes, I did teach him that. I‘m surprised you didn‘t.“ That only fuelled your anger even more.

or, you’re a retired military operator and ghost decides to spend his leave with you

word count: 6,2k

(masterlist | return pt.2)

You’ve been done with the military. After years of service and being haunted by death you decided to cut the string and leave. Price wasn’t happy but he knew there was no way he’d be able to convince you to stay, so he let you.

The minute you retired you disappeared from the screen, finding yourself a little farm in Denmark to stay. You were happy there and you saw yourself living there till the end.

You settled down with your son - the result of an unserious one night stand - and slowly started to fade away from the surface.

It’s a sunny summer day and you’re on your way to feed your chickens. It was still early in the morning but you were enjoying it. The mornings were the only time of the day you actually got to relax.

Your son, Louis, was a handful sometimes and you barely got any time alone since you were single parenting. You sure would’ve been able to find the father of your son but you didn’t want to. That one night stand was a pathetic attempt of yours to escape reality. You had nothing left for Louis’ father. You were fine on your own.

You were humming to yourself as you fed the chickens and collected their eggs, moving onto your two cows Martha and Marie. You got them a few years later than the chickens but by now you were used to them. They provided for you and your son and gave a reason less to leave your farm. The less you left, the better.

So, while you were busy milking the cows you noticed something was different. You couldn’t name it yet but your years with the military, especially Task Force 141, taught you to listen to your instincts.

Someone was here.

You let your eyes carefully roam, your hand ready to reach for the pitchfork but then you pause a minute to think. Whoever was watching you had enough opportunities to jump you already and they didn’t. That could only mean one thing. They weren’t here to hurt you. But before you could shrink the choice of people who could be here you decided to go on. You wanted to let them watch you for a bit longer and maybe make a mistake.

So, you stand up, gently petting Martha and grabbing the bucket of warm milk. You would make some butter out of it today.

You put the bucket onto a wood panel, which served kind of as a counter. Then you heard a silent shuffle. It was almost enough to tell you who was standing as good as directly behind you.

“What do you want, Ghost?” You turned around, crossing your arms to look at your former Lieutenant. He was - to your surprise - not wearing any tactical gear but civilian clothing. That confused you.

Why would he creep up onto you wearing anything but his gear? That wasn’t really Ghost-like. But even if he somewhat looked like a normal human being he still had his mask on.

You sighed. “If you’re here to recruit me for some kind of fucked up mission you can leave already. I won’t come. I’ve got better stuff to do.” You faced your bucket of milk again, grabbing a couple of empty bottles to fill the milk into.

You expected Ghost to leave as quietly as he appeared but he stayed. “I’m on leave,” he said and you stopped dead in your tracks.

“You’re what?” You looked at him over your shoulder, barely able to hide the shock and confusement on your face and in your voice.

He shifted, stepping closer to you. “I said I’m on leave.”

You snorted. “And you decided to spend it with barging into my life and waiting for me in my barn at fucking 5 am?”

He looked at you, his eyes almost as sharp as a knife. “You’re the only one I know who isn’t actively in the military.”

You blinked at him. “I’ll give you that,” you then sighed, still confused. “But I wouldn’t say we were the best of friends, were we?”

You always thought Ghost didn’t like you. He barely spoke to you - only if it was necessary - and, well… he wasn’t particularly easy on you anyway. He wasn’t on anybody but it seemed like he pushed you way more than the others. You constantly needed to prove yourself worthy and all that shit. It didn’t really make you like him either.

“I know,” he simply said while looking around. “Can I stay here?” His eyes met yours again. A cold shiver ran down your spine.

You thought for a moment. Normally you wouldn’t have let him stay but you needed a 2nd hand for some repairs on the farm and Louis was way too small to help you. So, technically speaking, Ghost could and probably would be of great use…

So, you answered, “Only if you help around the farm. I have some stuff to repair here and I need a helping hand. Louis isn’t ready to help yet but you’ll do.”

Something flashed in his eyes before he straightened his back and rolled his shoulders. “Okay. Whatever you need.”

You grinned. “Great. Follow me!” You left the barn, the bucket of milk long forgotten. “I only have two bedrooms, one for myself and one for Louis, so you need to sleep on the couch,” you explained with a shrug. You both knew a couch was like luxury on the open field.

“That’ll do,” Ghost grunted, speeding up his steps. For your size you walked incredibly fast. “Who’s Louis?” he then dared to ask, accompanied with him clearing his throat.

“Louis?” you laughed. “He’s my son. Turned 7 a couple weeks ago. He’s still asleep. I hope.” You glanced at Ghost and you didn’t know if you were hallucinating but he seemed to relax at your words.

“Mom… Why is there a scary man standing in our kitchen?” you heard Louis' strained voice. Your head shot up from where you were ducked down, searching for your shoe.

“Louis, darling.” You rushed to his side and saw Ghost staring at your son, completely shocked. “This is Ghost. He’s a…colleague of mine. You don’t need to be scared of him.” You ruffled your son’s hair, gently hugging him from the side. Meanwhile you gave Ghost an urgent look to say something. At least a hello would be nice.

He can’t just stand in your kitchen like a 6’4’’ giant with the build of a fridge, expecting a 7 year old to not be scared of him.

He quickly got your hint and cleared his throat. “Hi Louis,” he said, his eyes looking almost insecure. “I’m Ghost.” He paused again. “Nice to meet you…”

“Why are you so tall?” Louis immediately asked, angling his head to look up at Ghost’s, the fright from moments ago completely forgotten.

“I…don’t know,” Ghost answered, looking down on himself. He was indeed quite tall. Not as tall as König though.

Louis was about to talk again but then you linked yourself in. “I’m sure he just ate really well as a child.” Ghost looked at you when you finished your sentence. Why did you answer for him? He was capable of talking on his own.

You on the other hand thought he didn’t want to answer. You knew he didn’t like to talk about himself and Louis - sadly on this occasion - was very interested in other people’s lives…

Louis turned his head to look at you, then at Ghost. “Do I get as tall as him when I eat all my vegetables?” His eyes were big and you needed to suppress a laugh. He barely even knew Ghost and he already wanted to be like him in a way…

“Of course darling.” You ducked down to whisper in his ear, “Maybe you’ll get even taller.” Louis started to grin and ran off to eat his breakfast. You watched after him with a gentle smile.

When you found out you were pregnant you didn’t know what to do at first but now… Now you enjoyed every single moment with your little boy even if he was a handful sometimes. You just loved him too much to be truly angry at him…

“I can talk for myself, y’know,” Ghost muttered, staring at you. You were shocked for a moment. You just did what you thought was right. Ghost didn’t like to talk about himself.

“I’m sorry. I just…you never liked talking about yourself and-“ you wiped a couple strands of hair out of your face. “-and I know Louis likes to question the shit outta other people. I just tried to help you out.” You looked at Ghost with your arms crossed in front of your chest.

He just grunted and turned away. “Where’s your tea?”

“2nd cupboard from the left,” you sighed. You knew he was difficult at times. Why exactly did you agree to him spending his leave here? You didn’t even know how long he was on leave.

You looked at Ghost. Nothing more. You just looked at him sleeping. He’s been with you for, what, two weeks now and you already asked yourself, if he maybe was on permanent leave?

Back, when you were still with the 141 Price never gave you more than 5 days off. He always said: Terrorists don’t sleep, so why was Ghost still here?

You silently sighed before you retreated into your bedroom. It was weird that he already slept because he was the night in person but maybe you managed to tire him out enough…

You knew you didn’t. He was used to way more stress… He surely just acted like he slept so you would go to sleep. This man was a true mystery to you.

You tossed and turned in your bed, your thoughts dodging any attempt to fall asleep. You thought you were going crazy. Not a single technique you learned in your military days helped you, so you let out a deep sigh and stood up.

You put on some clothes and quietly tapped out of your room. You saw Ghost still laying on the couch, relief washing over you. You didn’t need him to know you weren’t able to sleep, even if he probably felt the same.

You quickly grabbed your jacket and left. Once you were outside your feet found the way on their own while your eyes started to get used to the night. It wasn’t as dark as some nights but you still could barely make out the small way that led you over the dunes.

You pulled your jacket around you, the breeze being colder than you thought. Out of habit you scanned your surroundings, making sure there was nothing suspicious.

After a short walk you reached your destination. A small wooden observation deck on top of one of the dunes. You rarely saw people coming here so this quickly turned into your place to go when you needed to be on your own.

You leant against the railing, your eyes focused on the beach and the restless sea in front of you. You felt how you immediately calmed down. You really needed this moment for yourself.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. Oh how you loved your life right now. You couldn’t wish for anything better.

You were alone with yourself and your thought for maybe half an hour before you felt a familiar presence behind you.

“I’m starting to believe you like to sneak up onto me,” you said without your eyes leaving the sea. You knew it would only be a matter of time until Ghost found you. He was a light sleeper, if he slept at all. He was a night person, just like you.

He just huffed, carefully walking towards you. He stood beside you, glancing down at you. “Why’d you leave?” he wanted to know, his eyes following your line of view. He found himself staring at the waves crashing at the shore.

“I just needed to think for a moment,” you replied, straightening your body with a sign. Ghost showed no reaction to your answer. Typical of him. Always asking, never answering.

After a couple moments of silence you decided to speak up. “Why are you really here Ghost? And don’t start with this “you’re the only non-military person i know”-bullshit! I know that you never were fond of me, so why are you here now? Matter of fact, why are you still here? We both know Price doesn’t give more than, what, four or five days of leave?” You turned to directly look at him. He was already facing you, the look in his eyes as piercing as always.

“What if I don’t want to answer that question?” he asked, slightly tilting his head. You huffed. That fucker.

“I don’t care that you don’t want to answer!” your voice grew louder. “All those years you pushed me around like some sort of…toy and now you show up in my fucking barn at freaking 5am and ask to stay with me during your leave.” You almost threw your hands in the air but warned yourself to try and keep calm. “Do you even hear how fucking…absurd that sounds?”

You tried to read the look in Ghost’s eyes but it was nearly impossible. The mask made it even harder. You took a deep breath, before continuing.

“I know nothing about you Ghost, other than maybe your last name and call sign and I worked years by your side. I’m putting an insane amount of trust into you right now, do you know that? I’m risking not only my live but most importantly my son’s by having you here so I think the least you can do is answer my question: why the fuck you are here?”

“Why…are you risking your life by having me here?” he asked, trying so hard to hide the confusion in his voice. You nearly started to scream. Was he actually stupid or did he just act like it?

“Why do you think I chose Denmark out of all the places in Europe?” You stared at him. “I’ll tell you why! It’s cause no one gives a single flying fuck about Denmark! There’re a shit ton of people after me but most importantly after you.” You pressed your index finger against his chest, unaware of how close you suddenly were to him. You heavily breathed, your thoughts clouded. “And if they find out you’re here not only you will be in danger but me and my son too. I swore to myself to leave anything military related behind the second Louis came into my life, so yes, at a certain point you’re risking my and his life.”

When you were finished you stepped back, clearly shocked about your rant. Fuck, that was embarrassing, you thought. He maybe wasn’t your superior anymore but you still had an immense respect for him. Under normal circumstances.

You wanted to start talking again to apologize but he cut you off. “I understand.” He did? “I’m causing you trouble. I’ll leave as soon as possible.” He turned to walk away and you groaned.

“Ghost! Wait!” He didn’t stop. “For fuck sake,” you cursed as you went to run after him. Insufferable man! “I didn’t ask for you to leave!” you nearly shouted and he came to a hold.

“Well, what is it then?” he snapped while turning around, throwing his hands in the air. He shouldn’t have followed you here in the first place, now he was knee deep into some shit.

“I just want to know why you’re here. I want to know what to expect of this whole thing here,” you answered. You're suddenly dangerously calm. “I wouldn’t have allowed you to stay if I wouldn’t be able to take the risk. I just want to know what you want here. What you really want here.”

Ghost blinked at you and you started to give up on getting an answer out of him but then he started to talk. “I wanted to spend time with you.” His voice was slightly shaking, going almost unnoticeable.

You were speechless for a moment. He wanted to spend time with…you? Who the fuck poisoned him? You opened your mouth to reply, trying to think of the right words.

“What?”

“I’m not gonna repeat myself,” he huffed, turning away again. “Do what you want with that information.” His voice was only a mumble but you still were able to hear it. Your head was spinning, not knowing what to think.

„You look scary with that mask.“

„I do?“

„Yea…“

Ghost smirked as Louis stared at him. You currently were in town to buy a couple of things and trusted Ghost enough to stay alone with Louis. He needed to admit, the young boy was funny.

„Why are you wearing it? Mom told me you wear it for work but you’re not working now.“ Louis tilted his head and Ghost sighed. The boy was right. He wasn‘t working right now but the mask comforted him in a maybe fucked up way. He didn’t want to take it off.

„I like how it feels on my face,“ Ghost tried to explain, looking down at Louis. „It makes me feel safe.“

„Oh…“ Louis stopped to think for a minute. „Just like my mom makes me feel safe, right?“ he then asked, staring up into Ghost’s eyes.

The older man nodded. „Yes, just like that.“

“Do you have another mask?”

“Why are you asking?”

“If your mask makes you feel safe whenever you wear it, maybe it would make me feel safe when I’m at school…”

Ghost stopped in his tracks, turning to look at Louis, the concern clearly visible in his eyes. “You don’t feel safe in school?”

“No… They always make fun of me because I only have my mom. They’re talking about their dads all the time and I don’t have one…” A quiet sob left Louis’ lips and Ghost felt an unfamiliar pang in his chest.

“They…they don’t hurt you, do they?” Ghost sat down on the grass, the barn door he wanted to fix long forgotten. He patted the stop beside him, motioning Louis to sit down. He needed to find out what was going on in that boy's school.

Louis hesitatingly sat down, avoiding Ghost’s eyes. He was quiet for a while and Ghost wanted to start talking to assure him everything was alright but then Louis broke the silence.

“They shove me sometimes,” he said, his voice quiet. “It doesn’t hurt or anything but I still don’t like it… They always call me Mommy’s boy and make fun of me because I’m not as good at sports as they are…” A silent tear was making its way down Louis’ cheek and Ghost wanted to reach out to wipe it away but…he was afraid.

“Have you ever thought of…defending yourself?” Ghost wanted to know after a while, glancing down at Louis again. “You shouldn’t just take what they throw at you.”

“I don’t know how. I never- I never even told my mom about it…” Louis averted his gaze further and Ghost knew it was because he was afraid that Ghost may think he was weak.

“Mhh,” Ghost hummed, leaning back on his arms. “Would you like to learn? I could teach you a thing or two. Nothing major of course but it could help you.”

Louis’ head shot up, an unknown sparkle in his eyes. He started to beam. “You would do that?”

“Of course,” Ghost smiled under his mask. „Just some basic self defense,“ he further explain, wondering why you didn‘t teach your son. If he had kids it would‘ve been the first thing he‘d teach them. The world could and would be cruel. He would want to prepare them for it.

„Fuck,“ you cursed as you picked up your phone. „Yes?“ you ask, giving Ghost a quick look. You two were currently in town, grocery shopping, when your phone rang. You didn‘t know who it was. You barely had any friends.

„What?“ you almost whisper in disbelief, the grip you had on the pack of noodles in your hand loosening. Before they could fall to the ground Ghost catches them, raising his eyebrow under his mask. What was going on?

„Of course, I‘ll be there as soon as possible. Yes, thank you for calling.“ You end the call, your hand slowly falling to your side. You only manage to blink for a couple seconds. Then you grab the noodles from Ghost‘s. „Louis school called. He got in a fight, we need to pick him up,“ you explain, throwing the noodles in the cart and pushing it forward.

Ghost only followed you, knowing that he probably was the reason Louis got into that fight. Would be funny to explain that to you…

You quickly pay and rush to the car. Once everything was packed away you started the engine. For two years Louis didn’t make trouble once and now he suddenly got in a fight? What the hell?

Ghost was quiet beside you, only looking at the road ahead.

When you pulled into the parking lot of the school you sighed, pushing a couple of hair strands out of your face. „Into the hell hole we go,“ you mutter while opening the door. Before you could close it, Ghost spoke up.

„I can go with you, if you want. I‘ll look out for Louis,“ he suggested and you stopped to look at him. Was he okay? He hated social interactions normally.

„Uh, sure. You can tag along,“ you reply, clearly surprised. Ghost nodded and opened his door. You wanted to ask about his mask but as you knew him he would keep it on.

You quickly brushed down your clothes before you entered the school, Ghost trailing behind you like a guard dog. It probably looked scary to anybody else but you were very used to it. He used to do it all the time while you still were with the 141.

After a couple minutes you stood in front of the principal's office, gently knocking. The sooner you were done with this, the sooner you‘d be home.

„Come in,“ you heard the voice of the principal. You cringed. He was a weird man, always so suggestive… Weird and disgusting in your eyes. That's why you never acted on it but well… men were men, weren‘t they?

You opened the door, walking in with a forced smile. „Hello Mr. Jorgensen.“ He stood up and gave you an almost nasty looking smile. It faded when he noticed Ghost behind you.

He extended his hand to greet you, then he turned his head to face Ghost. „And you must be Louis' father, am I right?“ He extended his hand again.

You were about to correct Jorgensen but Simon dryly replied for you. „Mr. Riley.“ Jorgensen nodded, visibly swallowing.

„You may have a seat,“ he then gestures towards the chairs in front of his desk. „I‘m well aware you know why I asked you to come here,“ Jorgensen starts, folding his hands on top of his desk. „Louis has been showing…concerning behavior lately and he probably should have contacted you earlier about it.“

„What behavior?“ You ask, slightly tilting your head. Louis always was a brave kid.

You could see that Jorgensen hesitated, his eyes jumping back and forth between you and Ghost. Was he scared to talk? „He broke another boys nose,“ he ripped the plaster off, straight up looking at you.

Before he could continue Ghost spoke up. „He was defending himself.“ Now you look at your old colleague in shock. Jorgensen didn‘t do anything different.

He cleared his throat. „Mind to elaborate on that Mr. Riley?“

Ghost straightened his back, mimicking Jorgensen‘s folded hands. „Kid‘s just defending himself. He‘s been bullied for months now. What did you expect him to do? Drink tea about it?“ His voice was cold and his eyes were piercing. You saw Jorgensen swallowing.

„We‘re still trying to find out what really-“

„Are you saying he‘s lying?“ Ghost questioned, leaning forward on his knees. „Are you saying that you don‘t believe him? A child doesn‘t hit without a good reason and it especially doesn’t break a nose because it feels like it.“

You saw how tense Ghost became and you decided to step in. You gently placed your hand on his shoulder. That caught him off guard.

„Thank you for giving us that information Mr. Jorgensen but I would like to see my son now. I assure you that I- we will have a talk with him as soon as we return home.“

„I…have no doubt in that,“ Jorgensen replied, standing up. „Please, follow me.“ He walked around his desk and out of his office. You and Ghost followed.

You walked down a hallway and then another door opened. In that room sat Louis. As soon as he saw you he jumped up, running into your arms. He started to cry as you held him close.

Jorgensen cleared his throat, turning to look at Ghost. „Well, Mr. Riley, I will leave your little family alone for now. I hope we don‘t see each other again about this matter.“ Then he left, but his words didn‘t. They would haunt Ghost until the early morning hours.

„Why did you do that?“ you immediately asked Louis when he calmed down, your voice gentle. It made no sense screaming at him now. „Did…they really bully you?“

Louis only nodded, sniffing. „Simon taught me how to do that,“ he then whispered, looking at Ghost behind you. You stiffed. Then you slowly turned around and stood up.

„You taught him how to do that?“ you asked, your voice on an edge. You didn‘t know if his name really was Simon but everything pointed in that direction. „Did you teach my son how to break noses?“ your voice rose but Ghost stayed calm. „I asked you something! Did you teach him that“ You were trembling, almost unable to control your anger.

Ghost looked at you and tilted his head. „Yes, I did teach him that. I‘m surprised you didn‘t.“ That only fuelled your anger even more.

„You‘re surprised I didn‘t teach him how to break noses and punch children?!“ You jammed your finger against his chest, forgetting that your son was able to witness all this.

„Yes, I am surprised!“ he replied, his voice also suddenly strained. „Why does someone with your abilities and knowledge doesn‘t teach his child how to defend himself from a bunch of little bastards?!“ Ghost‘s eyes grew dark and he made himself taller than he probably was.

„Because I am not a blood-thirsty monster like you!“ you yell back at him, shocked by your own words. You take a step back, swallowing. You didn‘t mean to say that. You didn‘t- Louis‘ trembling voice interrupts you.

„Mom?“ Your head snaps, looking at him. The look in his eyes is terrified. „Mom please don‘t yell…“ he pleads, his voice quiet.

„I’m- I’m sorry darling…“ your own voice is shaking, as well as your hands. You swallow again. „Come on, let’s get you out of here.“ You grab his hand, leading him past Ghost.

„You wanna walk?“ you snapped at him when he didn‘t follow. You didn‘t want to see his ugly mask but you also didn‘t want to leave him here alone…

You were back home again, it was late and Louis was already sleeping. You were in the kitchen preparing something to eat for you and well, for…Ghost. And as if you think of the devil you felt his presence behind you. You wanted to say something but he was faster.

„I care about him. That‘s why I taught him,“ he says and you turn around. He‘s leaning against the doorframe, looking at you.

You huff, „You care about him? Please, you know him for one month! How do you already care about him so much that you’re willing to teach him how to break fucking noses!“ Your voice was strained as you tried not to yell at him.

„I’ve known you for two weeks before I started to care about you!“ He replies, his voice calm but his eyes piercing. He pushed himself off the doorframe and walked towards you.

„Oh please, you didn‘t exchange one single word with me! You care about nobody!“ Ghost looks at you and for a second you believe you saw hurt in his eyes.

„That’s not true,“ he defends himself, coming to a hold just in front of you. You need to crane your neck to look up at him. His height really annoyed you sometimes.

„I care about people!“

You huff again, „And who are those people?“

„Johnny, Price, Gaz,“ he starts to list your former colleagues. „I care about Louis. I care about…you“ His voice fades and he turns his head away. „Believe it or not but I care about you.“

You swallow, struck by his confession. How do you answer something like that?

„If you care about me, why did you never make any effort to get to know me? I wanted to be friends with you, Ghost… Just like I‘m friends with Soap and the others.“ Your anger seemed to disappear and sadness took its place.

He didn‘t say anything and you sighed. You knew he wasn‘t good with feelings. Still, it annoyed you a little bit. You turn around, checking the noodles in the pot. The water should be boiling by now.

„I wanted to protect you…“ Ghost said after a minute of silence, his voice…unsure. He sounded even a bit insecure.

„From what?“ you ask in return, your gaze fixed on the food in front of you. You were more than capable of looking after yourself. You already had years of military experience before you joined the 141. Why, or better said, from what did he want to protect you?

“From me.” You felt his breath against your neck. Did he take off his mask? What the hell happened? “I wanted to protect you from that blood-thirsty monster I am,” he recalled the words you said when picking up Louis.

You closed your eyes, embarrassed at what you called him. He wasn’t a monster. Not to you at least…

“Look, I-” you start but he interrupts you.

“Don’t take back what you said because it’s true.” you hear his voice directly besides you ear and you can’t help but let out an unsteady breath.

You sigh, not daring to turn around. If you were right and he took his mask off you didn’t want to disturb his privacy. “Ghost-“

“Simon,” he interrupts you once again. “Call me Simon.”

“Okay.” Your gaze drifts down to the pot of noodles, carefully stirring it with a wooden spoon. “Simon… What I said- it’s not true. You’re not a blood-thirsty monster,” you try to clarify, signing once again. “I said it in the heat of the moment and-“

“And it’s true. I am who I am and I was protecting you from that.” He was placing his arms next to the stove, caging you in. You briefly closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to calm down. This was getting kinda…weird. Why was he suddenly talking like that?

“Why would you protect me from yourself?” you want to know, your voice almost cracking. Hell, why were you getting so emotional now?

“Because… Because I love you,” you felt his breath stutter and you wanted to reply but he just kept talking. “I love you and I have the terrible habit of getting the ones that I love killed. That was why I kept my distance. That was why I wanted to protect you from me. I didn’t want you to get hurt, I couldn’t forgive myself if you were hurt. But now, now that you left the 141 and…me I realized that maybe, maybe I should…risk it and that I should make up for all the times I hurt you because I wanted to keep you safe…”

Simon had finished and you needed a couple minutes to sort your thoughts out. He was still standing beside you, his hot breath almost burning your skin. “I…don’t know what to say,” you whisper, too overwhelmed and confused by his confession.

“Then say nothing,” he replied in a, suddenly, very gentle voice, now placing his hands on your hips. You were immediately melting into his touch. How many nights did you dream of that already? Now it was turning into reality…

He carefully turned you around to face him but you kept your gaze low, not daring to look into his eyes. If he really was without his mask-

“Look at me,” he whispers. Then you feel his hand on your chin, carefully lifting it up. You were now looking directly at him.

You were almost starstruck as you saw his face. It was…so much more handsome than you imagined it. He had messy blond hair, a little stubble and—god forbid—scars littered all across his face but you loved it.

Unconsciously your hand reached out to trace his features, slightly flinching when he grabbed it. He caressed your wrist with his thumb, slowly raising it to his mouth to press a little kiss onto it.

“Do you understand now?” he asks you, leaning down to be face to face with you. You only manage to nod, too overwhelmed by this whole situation.

He gave you a little smile, then he starts to tilt his head. “Can I kiss you?” he wants to know after a couple moments of silence and again you can’t manage more than a nod.

He smiled again before pulling you in to capture your lips with his and you feel like heaven. Was this really Simon Riley, Lieutenant Ghost, kissing you? You felt like you took a wrong turn somewhere but…it was good.

After you break the kiss he keeps you close, one of his hands on your hip, the other at the back of your head. “Let me show you that I love you,” he mutters, starting to trail kisses down your neck.

You let out a satisfied sigh, your hands finding the way into his hair. You would let him. You would let him show.

Not in bed though. He didn’t deserve that just yet.

„God, that kid is a handful sometimes,“ Simon groans as he flops down on your bed, belly first. You only laugh at him, putting your book aside.

„You get used to it,“ you smirk, your hand finding its way into his hair. „I‘ve been handling him for 7 years now…“ You laugh at his facial expression, pressing a gentle kiss on his head.

Before you can pull back he grabs your face, locking his lips on yours, a satisfied hum leaving his mouth. You smile into the kiss.

„You‘re gonna be the death of me,“ you chuckle after breaking the kiss.

„Better kill you with my charm, then my gun,“ he mumbles in reply, before pulling you in again. He shifts, so he’s on top of you, supporting his weight with his arms.

Your hands caress the back of his head, then his cheeks and his neck. You sigh into the kiss.

After he breaks the kiss he lays down between your legs, his head on your stomach and his arms around your waist. You softly smile down at him. Never in a million years you would‘ve thought that one day your former Lieutenant would lay in your bed, cuddling with you. It was like a fever dream…

„Everything okay, love?“ he mumbles against your stomach, looking up at you. You smile again.

„Yes, nothing to worry about.“ Your hands find their way into his hair again, gently playing with the dirty blonde strands. You were savoring this moment because it could be any day that he needed to leave again…

You were close to dozing off when he started talking again. „Price reached out to me…“

„And?“ you mumble back at him, well aware of what was to come. You were already preparing yourself for the day he‘d leave. You knew he couldn‘t stay forever.

„Said I need to come back. I’ve been gone for almost two and a half months…“ The words were heavy on Simon‘s tongue as he tightened his hold around you.

„When will you leave,“ you gently ask, continuing to play with his hair. You enjoy the feeling of him just laying on top of you. It made you feel safe. You didn‘t want him to leave you again.

„They‘ll pick me up tomorrow,“ he sighs and you don‘t even bother asking how they know where to pick him up. He managed to find you too, didn‘t he?

„Tomorrow?“ you smirk, grabbing his face to pull you up to you. „Better make the best out of tonight then, huh?“ You feel him smile against your lips, propping himself up on his arms above you.

„You damn right sweetheart,“ he whispers against your lips, leaving you a puddle. The power he had over was crazy.

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